"Lord save us from idiot kids and magic," Cole muttered, speaking both figuratively and literally. The kids, of course, were harmless, as long as annoyance didn't count as any particular form of harm. But they were in the middle of something that might actually be deadly serious, and praying to whatever the hell they were would get them killed if they weren't careful.
Just not by what they thought might do it.
He crouched down by one of the headstones, motioning for Julian to do the same, before they caught sight of them.
"Need to run 'em off," he whispered, before flashing a grin at the younger man. "But ain't nothin' to say we can't have a little fun with 'em. What do you say, partner? Bit of shock and awe?"
Cole focused on the kids, beginning to murmur the words of power that formed the connection between him and his magic. Real magic, this time, not diagrams out of an Aleister Crowley book. He felt the connection between the power that lay dormant in his blood and his conscious mind stir, coaxing it alive with the practiced touch of an old lover, bringing it awake gently.
As he continued to murmur, mist began to gather at the edges of the graves. Slowly, at first, gossamer threads that clung like spiderwebs to the stone. But it soon began to build, thickening, strengthening until it rolled in waves towards the kids.
He switched tack, keeping his concentration on the miasma spell as he began to work another, now that his magic was up. Slowly, the vines on the crawling plants that choked the headstones began to bulge, inching their way towards the group slowly but surely.