#kaden threads

[alan-duarte]

TIMING: Current LOCATION: a charming property Downtown PARTIES: Kaden @chasseurdeloup & Alan SUMMARY:  Alan has found the perfect place for Kaden, and they schedule a visit. The Wicked’s Rest housing market is just as complicated as the rest. CONTENT WARNINGS: n/a 

This was it, this was where the little blue dot on the map said to meet. Kaden glanced around and didn’t see Alan in the immediate area. Didn’t feel any sudden spike in his hunter senses, either. Guess he was early. Buying a house from a werewolf sounded like a terrible fucking idea. Then again, so did living with one and Kaden was doing that at the moment, so he supposed it didn’t matter. He was damn sure he couldn’t afford his own place just yet and would be stuck on the couch for a while longer but it didn’t hurt to look, right? And that Alan guy made it sound like he might actually offer a decent deal considering how they ran into each other. Granted, the hunter was still suspicious that the deal wasn’t going to be anything to write home about if it was anything at all. 

Putain, Kaden didn’t even know what sort of clothing to look out for. Considering. He leaned around the corner to see if anyone was headed his way. He didn’t see anyone but he heard a voice coming from the opposite direction. “Uh, hey,” he said, giving a small wave when he spotted Alan. “Guessing you’re going to be the one leading the way.”

______

Considering the circumstances of their first meeting, Alan had taken his time before offering a visit to the animal control offer. Since the other didn't have much of a budget, finding a house rather than a flat had not been an easy task, but he figured someone who liked animals that much wouldn't be happy with something that didn't have a garden attached. He had a ground-floor apartment he could make him see later, but he was counting on this being a coup de coeur. 

He had also paid attention to the way he was going to dress today. He didn't want to look like he tried too hard, but there wasn't much in his wardrobe that was anywhere close to this vibe. In the end, he had picked one of his many Italian suits and paired it with brogues. 

Alan had parked around the corner before heading toward the plaid-clad French. "It's a good time to visit the house. You'll get a good idea of the kind of traffic that passes by.” He approached him with a broad smile, oozing the sort of confidence he usually had on him. This wasn’t an attempt at reversing what had already happened, this was just Alan in his element and ready to get shit done.

______

Kaden raised a brow after giving Alan a one-over. He didn’t know a ton about fancy clothes, but that suit looked like it cost more than his entire wardrobe. “Nice to see you dress better when you’re prepared. Hope this wasn’t some attempt to overcompensate on my account.” Not that he would blame the guy; if he’d met someone while walking through the woods mostly naked, he’d probably try to come off as a little more put together on the second meeting. “Noted.” The man was as chipper and charming as ever, it seemed. And Kaden felt that same old chill along his spine, reminding him that Alan was still a werewolf. 

The hunter shoved his hands in his pockets and looked up at the small house. It wasn’t entirely bad looking. “I’m guessing this one’s a little bit of a fixer-upper,” he said, looking at the exterior. The paint could use a touch-up, there was a shingle or two missing from the roof, but it didn’t seem like anything he couldn’t handle. “Decent space, though,” he said with a nod to the lawn. It wasn’t sprawling by any means, but it was far more than a tiny patch. “I guess now is when you impress me with the interior and tell me why this is all a steal, right?” he asked with a sly smile. 

______

“Right,” Alan knew he would get a comment about this. He preferred that they started the conversation with the elephant in the room, as long as it didn’t become the sole topic they spoke about today. “I’ll happily give you a tour of my dressing room,” not really. He didn’t like having people in his personal space and still felt too mortified to attempt to befriend the guy. 

Still, he didn't show it, reaching for his keys in his briefcase and finding the right ones without a hint of trouble. "It needs some updates, that's for certain. It was renovated in the 90s and it looks like it," florals, vinyl flooring over hardwood, you name it. "Doesn't scare you, does it?" 

Leading the way up the few steps that led them under the porch, Alan turned to look at the guy with a professional smile. "I did tell you I could find you something within your price range," he didn't ask for said range. Alan could guess how much an animal control officer made, and he could just as easily convince the owners into lowering the price until it fit his buyer. “I don’t want to get ahead of myself, you’ve barely told me anything about your needs in terms of housing,” but he had a good feeling about this. Not only did the house have a proper garden, but it also had a cave that the other could turn into a cellar or a wine cave, though he would reveal that later. “Come in, come on.” 

______

“I was actually hoping for a fashion show,” Kaden said with a shit-eating smile on his face. He almost asked if he had expanded to pillowcases or sheets, maybe even throw blankets, but he refrained. As much as it would amuse him, the guy was helping him out. Also, still a werewolf. Probably in Kaden’s best interest not to push him too far; he didn’t know what sort of control (or lack thereof) Alan had. 

“Nah, I had a feeling anything in my price range was going to need a little help,” he said as he followed the werewolf to the door. “I like having projects to work on anyway. Not sure that I’ll ever be done helping out with Andy’s cabin but it doesn't hurt to have a side project.” The stairs on the porch were a little uneven, he wondered how much of that was cosmetic or signs of an actual problem. He could inspect that later. 

His toe caught on the edge of the last step and he nearly tumbled into Alan. “Sorry. Must have misstepped,” he said, looking back at the stairs. If he didn’t know any better, he’d have said that something reached out and tripped him. He had been careful to try and clear the height, considering the unevenness. Strange. 

Kaden shrugged it off and headed inside. It had definitely seen better days. The walls were covered in floral wallpaper that looked like it was bought in the 80s and had been there ever since. Carpets weren’t great, either, but that was all superficial shit. The hunter walked over to look at the walls and supporting beam that opened up into what could probably be a den, checking for any cracks or signs of leaning or unsteadiness. 

______

“First-row seats are expensive. Let’s put that money into property instead, shall we?” The realtor gave Kaden a look. Of course, that guy still had the same good looks he had the other morning, but anyone with a bit of self-esteem couldn’t possibly have survived Alan scanning them with that look of pretension plastered all over him: from the controlled curl of his salt and pepper hair to the carefully tailored cut of his suit, down to the choice in terms of colors and textures, there wasn’t much about his appearance that was left to luck. He’d always been told that people drew their first opinion of you in a matter of minutes, and he’d wasted those being covered in a dirty sleeping bag. While he didn’t fully believe that quote was good for anything but job interviews, Alan was happy to test its veracity anyway. 

“You’re crafty then?” So was Alan, in a way. His skills only extended to the fabrication of models as he felt like renovating anything bigger came with too much responsibility for a hobby. “I know you were saying you have a lot on your plate at work, so I wasn’t sure how you’d feel about this,” he briefly hummed. “Glad you like the challenge,” with a nod, he took them inside, reaching out to turn on the light. 

The light fixture on the ceiling flickered briefly, before turning itself off. Weird. Alan sighed. “I’ll go downstairs, get the lights back on,” he declared. So much for his grand surprise. Heh, at least he wouldn’t be spooked by the dark basement. And yet, as he walked in there, his perfect vision didn’t stop him from slipping on a step, losing his balance, and ending up downstairs way faster than he’d have wanted to, knocking his forehead against the washing machine. “Que coño! ¿Qué diablos es esta escalera de mierda?” If he could have sworn one of the steps was terribly uneven or slippery, as he looked over to check on it, he couldn’t have told where it was. Maybe he just lost his balance. That happened. “I’m fine,” he called out, rubbing his sore forehead while he searched around for the electrical panel. 

______

Kaden shrugged. “I don’t know if I’d call it crafty. I know how to hammer a nail, though. Simple enough.” Hunting didn’t exactly pay the bills so he didn’t ever grow up living in the most glamorous houses by any means. They learned how to fix what they had and make things last as long as they could. It was just practical if nothing else. Not that he wouldn’t call in a professional when it was beyond his knowledge, but he could do a lot before that point. 

Which he might have to do if the place had an electrical problem. The flickering lights didn’t build any confidence there. “You need any help down there?” Might be a good idea to see what was going on, anyway. He was on his way to follow Alan when the door to the basement shut in front of his face, separating the two of them. “Putain?” The door closed so fast it practically bumped his nose. “If you didn’t want help, you could have just said so,” he shouted through to the realtor. He was about to turn away and wait when he heard a thump and what sounded like cursing following it. 

What the fuck was happening here? “You alright?” he asked, a little concerned. He said he was fine but something felt off about this whole thing. Kaden decided to ignore him and open the door anyway. Only it was jammed. Did he lock it or something? “Well, you better be fine since you locked yourself in there.” 

______

“I didn’t close the door behind me,” he called out. “Must have been the wind,” he assured him. It wasn’t the fucking wind. They had not left the front door open, and the chimney had been closed to keep things from falling inside the house. “I’ll be up there in a minute, getting the lights back on,” Alan’s voice carried up the stairs: the werewolf picked himself up and dusted himself clean. His forehead stung, but it wasn’t bleeding at least. 

“Alright, where the fuck is that damn thing,” the switch to Spanish was automatic whenever frustration replaced all his attempts at remaining clear-headed. With no one to watch him, he became the very figure of the huffing and puffing wolf, upset and ready to confront anyone who might have been messing with them now. It must have been yet another haunted house. Original, he thought. Lil would have to deal with that one. 

Hands at the ready, he walked around the staircase to find the fuse box there. It didn’t look brand new, but it certainly didn’t seem to date back to the initial construction of the house either. Yet, when the wolf went to switch it back on, an unpleasant spark of electricity coursed through him, one that had him shaking his hand in pain, and swiftly moving away from the fuse box. Yet, the light was now back on, and Alan figured it would just be best if they both left and visited that apartment he had mentioned instead. He wouldn’t be selling the house to Kaden in that state anyway. “You think you’re so fucking funny,” he wasn’t sure who he was mumbling to then. If it was a ghost, he wasn’t certain it would hear or understand. “We’re leaving, alright?” Alright. All he had to do was walk back upstairs and get out of there. If only the door would budge. “You’re joking?!”

______

What did he mean he didn’t close the door behind him? Kaden sure as shit didn’t close it. And it was definitely locked. “Putain de merde.” He tried the handle again, just to be sure, but nothing had changed. Kaden looked around for anything that might be helpful, like keys, or an ax. Before he could find anything, a hole opened up beneath his feet and he crashed to the concrete below. Fucking hell. He grumbled and cursed as he pushed himself up to his feet. When he looked up, the ceiling was there, complete, like nothing had ever happened. “What in the fucking hell?” 

Kaden glanced over to the realtor who was also looking a little worse for wear. His hair looked as if the guy had been electrocuted. His eyes darted to the fuse box. Goddamnit. “Shit, are you okay?” He was standing, at least. Could have been worse.

No wonder this place was in his price range. “Alright, we gotta go.” The hunter looked around for some sort of alternative exit. And as he looked at the back wall, the bricks started to move, jutting out in a pattern that looked like a ladder. The ceiling warped and spread open to the room above them. 

Kaden stood, blinking. “That looks like a terrible idea.” The lights flickered again. Merde. “Kidding, just kidding. Great idea. Guess the house wants us to go this way.” He couldn’t believe he just fucking said that aloud. “You’re the one running the tour, you first,” he said to the werewolf. 

__

“I’m fine,” Alan could have snapped in other circumstances, but he was with a potential buyer, right? Who the fuck would buy that, he now thought to himself. His hand ran through his hair: he had noticed the way the other looked at it, one second too long for normalcy. Slicking his hair back as best as he could, he glanced up at the staircase, which had tripped him, then toward the hole where the other fell from. “That was one hell of a fall. You sure you didn’t get hurt?” 

This was going so poorly, Alan wondered if the other would agree to visit anything else he had tucked under his elbow. If this wasn’t his favorite part of the job, he gave this a lot of thought. Small budget, but the guy certainly held his tongue. That was worth getting Alan’s sympathy: sometimes, being on his good side was really all it took. 

Turning to look in the same direction as Kaden, Alan’s eyebrows furrowed. He was not the best liar, but although he knew of a few supernatural things, this was certainly new to him. “Did- Did the house do this?” He had heard of ghosts, obviously. Lil even dealt with one for him a few months ago. Alan thought it was just that: a ghost having a bit of fun. “You’re joking…” He glanced at the other. He had some nerve. Only one of them here was supposed to deal with danger. Yes, unruly animals were less of a problem than unruly houses, but still. “Unbelievable,” the realtor mumbled, approaching the wall and glancing down at the shoes he’d picked for the evening. Right, brogues. Italian leather. Splendid. 

It didn’t take him more than two steps to scuff them. “I’ve seen the Haunting of Hill House, you know. Maybe it wants to eat us,” why did he say that? It sounded ridiculous the moment he said it. Still, he made it to the top and ended up in a room that looked nothing like the plan he’d been looking at the very morning. “That’s… Mmmh,” he tried to listen to his surroundings, but aside from Kaden’s body and his movements, there wasn’t much else to observe. “Huh, there’s no door.” The light didn’t come from any window either.  It was as if the walls or the ceilings were glowing.

—

“I’m okay. Had worse falls than that,” Kaden said as he rubbed his back. At least he didn’t land on his wrists or ankles, that would really be a problem with that height. For now, he was just in for some bruises. 

“Yeah. I mean, I saw it too if that’s what you’re asking.” His brow raised as he looked over at the werewolf. Sure, Kaden hadn’t been in a house like this before, but he was more than familiar with supernatural bullshit and, at this point, expected the unexpected. How was Alan not already aware of this? Did he only know about werewolves and nothing else? Putain de merde, probably. “Look, I don’t know what the fuck is happening any more than you do but a way out’s a way out.” At least he hoped it was a way out. 

He watched as the other man climbed up the bricks, hoping that none of them disappeared as he grabbed onto them. So far, so good. “Eat us?” Kaden looked around, checking the corners of the room and glancing at the walls. Well, it didn’t look like they’d come any closer. If they were any darker than they were a moment ago, he couldn’t say, but there was still something unsettling about the place. He wasn’t sure if he was eager to follow him up the brick ladder or not, to be honest, but he climbed all the same. 

“Putain,” he said as he looked around and noticed the lack of exits. “Who the hell listed this place, anyway?” He rubbed his temples before running his hands along the walls, looking for anything that might hint at what they should do next. “Are you… You act like this is sort of new to you. Weird stuff like this?” He didn’t know if the werewolf would catch on to what he was saying. “I mean, is it?” As soon as he asked the question, his hand pushed through the wall as if it were made of gelatin. Kaden jumped back, pulling his hand away. “Uh, think I might have found the way out.” As much as he hated that thought.

__ 

“You could have broken your coccyx there,” he commented, although he didn’t press it much more. It was none of his business what the other did with his back. Still, he was curious to know what had him falling like that. “Horse Riding? Rock climbing? Spelunking?” Alan knew that it wasn’t exactly a priority. They first had to get out of there alive, but it was one of those habits he kept from half a life ago: divert and keep people calm. Except that the other was quite calm. Hmm. Mustn’t have been his first time dealing with this shit either. 

“That’s what I said. There has to be a reason why it’s doing all this nonsense, hasn’t there?” That made the most sense to Alan at least. Why did anything ever happen? The wolf didn’t put it above the town to have sentient houses that ate people, even if he had never once heard about that outside of that tv show. 

“The owner’s kids. The owner died and they live across the country,” Alan didn’t try to find out how the owner had died, although he now assumed it was under strange circumstances. “I didn’t think it would be…” He sighed. Kaden must have caught on to his discomfort because he was the one to raise the question of weird stuff. “Ah, well you’re not from around here,” it wasn’t a complaint. People who were good-tempered like Kaden could come anytime they wanted. The problem was that they usually got themselves killed in no time. “I wasn’t sure if you were the sort to believe our stories or not.” If he did, he probably would survive for a while longer than the rest. 

“It wasn’t really the plan to get you into a most likely haunted house,” otherwise, Alan would have let him in first and slammed the door on his back. Now why would he have done that? Sure, he was still a bit embarrassed with what had happened, but being caught naked was, unfortunately, part of being a shapeshifter. “Anyway, let’s just get out of-” The wall made a sound it shouldn’t have, and his grimace only grew as the other suggested they walked through it. “Have you, or is that how we end up eaten by a house? It could be its stomach. Squishy and -” He wasn’t sure if it heard or understood him, but it was precisely at this moment that Alan noticed the jelly wall moving closer to them. “You’re kidding me,” with yet another unnatural, disturbing wobbly sound, the wall jumped forward, swallowing the real estate agent whole. 

—

“Yeah, sure. Horseback riding.” Kaden had fallen off a horse before, right? Probably. Not that he rode a whole lot or anything but he had and he knew how to. That was close enough. Plus, it was a better explanation than falling off the back of a bucking bies which is something that definitely happened. “Sometimes weird shit doesn’t have a reason to be weird.” He didn’t know if that was more or less comforting than the thought of the house trying to swallow them whole.  

“Of course the owner died.” He wondered if they were going to find their body somewhere along the way. It wouldn’t shock him if they did. The ranger rolled his eyes at the comment. “I’m not from here, no, but I grew up around this sort of shit.” Whether he wanted to or not. Of course now he wondered if Alan had been born a wolf or turned if he was from here. “Well, not this shit specifically. Never been in a house like this before.” Kaden swore he heard the house grumble, its foundation creaking. Right. Noted. Don’t shit talk the house. 

“Really? Could have fooled me,” Kaden said, not sure if he was joking or not at this point. What if he had figured out what Kaden was? Was he trying to get him killed? Or chase him off? Was this his way of protecting Monty or himself or… 

Kaden didn’t have a chance to let his thoughts spiral. The wall jumped out and swallowed them both whole. For a moment, it was like he was swimming in gelatin. It was thick, viscous, and hard to move through, but somehow they were spat out on the other side, the ranger tumbling across the floor, covered in some sort of goo. At least he assumed it was the other side. It wasn’t the same room. There was a window. Only it was small, square, and in the very top right corner of the room. Kaden brushed himself off, trying to shake off the house goop or whatever the fuck that was. He narrowed his eyes, looked up at the window, and then over to Alan. “Think I can boost you to the window.” Which was great. For Alan. Less so for him. “If only we had some sort of rope.” 

__ 

“You grew up around this sort of shit…” Was the other some sort of shapeshifter too? Alan couldn’t repress a smile, though he didn’t press it any further. That went away fast enough. The house seemed to protest the other’s language, and the werewolf was soon scowling. “Alright, let’s not be disrespectful,” it was not a great house but it really wasn't that bad. He didn't sell bad property because that would give him a bad name. He could handle slander, but bad housing? No way in hell.

"I'm in the house too." He paused. There was nothing they could do now but work together. Sure enough, it was a lot easier getting all worked up about it, but they were stuck in here, and getting irritated would probably further the other's point that he might have picked that property on purpose.

Perhaps he should have shut his mouth. Because he did end up being in the house more than he should have. 

When the house spat him out and let him go, the realtor's suit was covered in a thin layer of gooey slime. He reached in his pocket for tissues, handing one over to his client who was fixating on a small window. "Rope? I can pull you up if you jump," if he knew for a fact he could do that when he was 20, time wasn't always so kind and Alan's back often reminded him of this much. "I could climb on your shoulders," he commented. "Or you climb on mine." 

—

“I did, yeah.” Kaden wondered what sort of reaction he was going to get by admitting that. Concern? Fear? Solidarity? He had to know that Kaden wasn’t a werewolf. At least he figured they had a way to sense each other or smell one another or something. The smile was a little reassuring, though. Then again, Alan didn’t know that he was talking to a ranger, of all things. Kaden had a feeling he wouldn’t be smiling if he knew.

Kaden pulled his mouth into a thin line, trying to assess the height again. He was about 6’2” and the other man was, if he had to guess, less than about half a foot shorter than him. It could be possible for him to jump. Maybe. “Alright, worth a shot. Climb on my shoulders.” The ranger kneeled down and waited for Alan to balance himself. “On the count of three, I’m going to stand up. One… two… three” Kaden pushed himself up from crouching, holding onto the werewolf’s calves to try and help steady him. “Can you reach it?” 

__

“Oh Jesus, it’s gym class all over again,” but the other was younger, and looked generally sturdier than the businessman. Stupidly sturdier. What the fuck. Even as he stood up, Kaden was surprisingly steady, and Alan told himself that he’d get back to the treadmill the next morning. He didn’t like having to depend on others. He never accepted that. It was part of having been raised as the eldest child : you couldn’t count on others. 

“I can reach it, yeah. It’s… I think it’s heading into the garden.” Now he just had to undo the lock, and get out of here. He pushed up the window. It was one of these guillotine systems, though he hoped he wouldn’t find himself confronted to a French royal fate. 

Looking down at the other, Alan could have sworn he saw something else moving, a shadow on the floor. He moved his head the other way, but there was no trace of anything there. Nothing. “Huh, okay. I’ll climb out, and…” he didn’t say more. The house was listening, wasn’t it? Climbing onto the windowsill was harder than it looked, and Alan may have stepped on the head of his hefty stepladder in his ascent. But he finally made it out, and he soon reached down to get his companion out of here. The floor beneath him was not precisely clean, but having been covered in jelly instants before, Alan had stopped caring for trivial details such as these. “Okay, one, two..”

—

“Putain, watch the head!” Kaden shouted when he felt Alan’s heel digging into his cranium. Once he felt the weight lift off his shoulders, he rubbed the spot he’d kicked. That was definitely going to bruise. It looked like the werewolf got up there okay. And the window opened, too. It almost seemed too good to be true. 

From the corner of his eye, he saw movement in the shadows. Kaden spun around to look, but there was nothing there. Maybe the light had just changed when Alan stood in front of the window. Probably nothing.

Actually, they were in a supernatural house of some sort, maybe he shouldn’t assume that was nothing. Kaden looked up to see the werewolf extending his hand. Yeah, he wasn’t going to waste any time staying here any longer than he had to. The ranger nodded and jumped up on the count of three, grabbing onto the other man’s hand and pulling himself up to the ledge with his help. He tried to get what grip he could with his feet against the wall, but they were covered in whatever shit the last wall had been made out of so it wasn’t helping much. Once his other hand was on the window sill, it was easy enough to pull himself up to standing. 

Kaden knew he shouldn’t look back, that he should just accept that they were leaving and only look forward, but he couldn’t help himself. When he glanced down, he saw what looked like hands, long and spindly with sharp claws, emerging from the walls, almost like the walls had shaped around them as they reached out towards the men. “Putain. Let’s go, let’s go!” He climbed out the window and shut it fast as he could, jumping down to whatever part of the roof was closest. He really didn’t want to jump from the second floor, sounded painful. Might be their only choice, though.

__ 

His back was going to murder him later. Alan knew that for a fact. Still, he held on tight on the other man’s hand, just enough for him to grab the window sill and get out. Sometimes, the werewolf felt old, but nothing did the job better than watching someone jump like that as if gravity or knee caps were concepts rather than reality. “Oh you have to be fucking joking.” The wolf was much sturdier, but he was not going to turn while standing on a roof. And yet, he didn’t take too much convincing, or any at all, to come and join him there. The urgency in the other man's tone was more than plenty enough, and Alan's decision was taken swiftly.

Better a twisted ankle than losing a leg or life to a damn house.

He wondered if they were safe here, down on the roof. Alan would have happily sat down here and taken some time to take a breath, even if he felt disgusting, and wished for nothing more than a warm shower to wash all the grime away. 

He approached the other's side instead. "Let's get to the back. We can jump onto the veranda and into the garden," unless the garden wanted to eat them too, they would be safe, then. 

—

“Garden, got it,” Kaden said with a nod, his head swiveling around, trying to spot the veranda in question. “It’s that, right?” He didn’t wait for an answer and just went on blind faith. It was better than being grabbed by arms coming out from the wall of this fucking haunted as hell house. The ranger could feel his shoes slipping and sliding against the roof tiles, which shouldn’t be an issue. It was almost like something was making them slick. Putain, it was probably the goddamn house. He coudln’t wait to get eth fuck out of there. 

He pulled himself over one of the small dormers on the roof that was positioned over the window, and used the stupid shingles to his advantage, sitting and sliding down the side of the roof, his feet landing on the veranda. The surface wobbled beneath his feet, testing his balance. “For fucks sake!” he shouted as he tried to hold himself upright. It didn't matter, he didn’t have to stay there long, just long enough to plant his feet onto the goddamn ground. Kaden crouched down and crawled to the edge of the veranda, gripping the side and then turning to lower himself, practically throwing himself off the side. 

Kaden looked back to see Alan was following right behind him, waiting to make sure the werewolf got out alright and ready to help if need be. As soon as he was in the clear, the ranger booked it to the fence gate and threw it open, running until he was back on the sidewalk across the fucking street. He wasn’t taking any more chances. 

Once they were both safe and across the way, Kaden doubled over, placing his hands on his knees as he tried to process what the fuck just happened back there. “Good luck selling that piece of shit, Duarte. I think I’m gonna pass. And I think you owe me a goddamn drink at this point.”

____

He managed to descend the veranda with much less elegance than his company. His sticky soles and mucus coating his skin and clothes had made things difficult, and just like Kaden, Alan had nearly fallen off the roof as he began shaking its slates.

"Damn it," Alan barely caught himself on the edge of the veranda, dropping to the ground before joining his client at the front of the hungry mansion. He expected the other to make a remark to him. He didn't blame him. Sitting on the edge of the sidewalk for a moment, he looked up at the house, looking weary and tired. "I changed my mind," he replied, his head turned to his client, the property developer nodded. "I don't think I'm going to sell that one."

He stopped talking. The idea of stopping for a drink somewhere was tempting and he just nodded silently. Tomorrow he would try to find something else for Kaden, and he would call Lilian Ballard.

[howdy-cowpoke]

TIMING: The night of the fire, after everyone else is gone. LOCATION: Prickly Pear Acres PARTIES: Monty (@howdy-cowpoke) & Kaden (@chasseurdeloup) (feat. Dallas) SUMMARY: The boys deal with the aftermath. Poorly. CONTENT WARNINGS: n/a

—

The fire had burned itself out. The guests were gone, the paramedics and firefighters and police had left… the place was empty. Charred black, the buildings crumbling in on themselves, the smell of death in the air even more so than usual. Three humanoid figures stood at the edge of the road with a small smattering of animals around them, silent as they tried to process… everything. Dallas stood guard on its opposite side. In his hands were all the makeshift leads they had thrown together for the horses and llama, and at his feet sat the dogs. Philip stuck close to his side as well, bleating every now and then but otherwise behaving. 

Monty and Kaden were on the other side of the road nearest the farm, or what remained of it. Monty was gripping the fence in front of him and staring blankly out at what had once been his home. He’d lost everything. Everyone, damn near. He could still hear Daisy’s laugh from earlier that night, still see Ford’s smiling face and Beth’s bright, youthful eyes. But they were gone. All of them. Whoever had done this had succeeded, and everyone who lived and worked on the farm but himself, Dallas, and Kaden had been murdered. The fire had covered the evidence of this, likely by design. And their own natures prevented them from telling any officials the truth, so an accident it was. An accident. 

Monty’s breath hitched in his throat but his expression was blank. He was still in shock, still stuck in fight or flight mode. He kept waiting for someone to come walking out of the black, ash covered fields… kept straining his eyes and hoping to see Daisy come strolling through the lingering smoke, lifting her hat in a wave. But she didn’t come, of course she didn’t come. She was dead. They were all dead. 

Dallas cleared his throat, walking the animals across the road towards them. “Y’all stay here,” he grumbled. “I’ll go get us a truck n’ a trailer.” There were nearby farms that would help, he knew. They had to get these animals loaded up and taken somewhere. Monty and Kaden could figure that out while he was gone, he surmised. Anyway, they might need some time… alone. Ish. 

—

The night had started to settle. Not in peace, though. It settled like a stain, dark and murky. This night wasn’t as covered in blood as the last time, it was laced with soot instead of iron, but the death was the same. If not worse. 

There was nothing more to do, not immediately, but it was calm all the same. Calm but empty. Kaden felt empty. Like his future had been hollowed out, stolen from him, from Monty, from every single person who had called Prickly Pear their home. It was like a kick in the gut when he realized that there were only three of those people left standing there. There were only three of them that were homeless. The rest were dead.

The rest were dead.

It didn’t feel real. Kaden wanted something more to do, another task, another action to take, a next step. Anything to prolong reality from staining deeper. But Monty had stopped. He was still, clawing onto the fence. Some part of him was afraid that the man would take off running back onto the property, searching for anything left. At the same time, he may have preferred that instead of the stillness. The emptiness.

His hand found Monty’s, laid over top of his on the bit of fence that was left. More felt dangerous, like it could open the floodgates too soon. Only, was it too soon? Was there anything left but the emotions of it all? 

No, there was one more step, one more decision. Where did they go from here? Kaden swallowed, unsure if his voice would work if he tried to speak. “The cabin,” he said, voice croaking. “We could— I still have the cabin.” It was mostly stripped bare, only odds and ends left of his belongings and his cousin’s. The place that was once so full of life and felt almost too small for the three of them when they all lived there was a shell of itself now. 

A shell was better than nothing. 

Manzanita rubbed her head against his side. Putain, that was right. “I’m not sure what to do about the animals, though.” 

—

Monty heard Dallas speaking, understood what he was saying, but didn’t react. Even as the other zombie tied the leads to the fence and started to jog off down the road to the nearest farm, Monty just stood there, staring dead ahead, waiting for something else to happen. 

Kaden’s voice filled the void after Dallas’ steps had retreated into silence. The cabin. He blinked, allowing his thoughts to jump away from the fiery inferno that’d been here hours earlier and instead imagine the cabin he’d been to so many times in the past, now sitting alone and empty in the woods. It was all they had left, wasn’t it? 

“I will build them a shelter,” Monty answered, surprised by the sound of his own voice. He wasn’t even sure if he’d still had one. There was room on the land surrounding the cabin for this. And if he cut down some trees, he could give the horses a large enough paddock for them to exercise freely in. Yes… it would be an undertaking, but he could do it. He could do it quickly, especially since he did not need to sleep. And he needed to. He needed something to keep him from thinking about—

He looked over at Kaden, but his gaze was distant. “When Dallas comes back, we will… load them up.” Monty’s own truck was within their line of sight: it had been moved at some point, by who he wasn’t sure, but he was grateful for that now. Grateful that he always left his keys in the ignition. “Take them there. I will… find a way to build. You have nails, yes? Some tools left over? I will use what we have until morning, then I will go to the hardware store and get more.” It was clear he was avoiding having a conversation about the topic at hand, his gaze wandering and hands fidgeting in front of him. Habanero whinnied softly and the cowboy dropped his gaze to the dirt road beneath their feet as if guilt had overcome him. “I can have it ready in a day or two, I think—and I will make them a paddock, and the dogs can stay inside with us. Philip will probably also prefer to be inside, if that is okay, he’s not usually one to get into trouble—”

—

Kaden was exhausted just listening to Monty’s plans to build a paddock but, if he was being honest, he’d rather throw himself into building alongside his partner rather than sleep. His body had other ideas, however. He was a ranger, not a slayer — he needed a normal amount of sleep, even if he rarely got that. 

He rubbed his palms down his face, almost hoping to see the farm back in place when he could look out across the way again, but it was no use. It was gone. It was really and truly gone. And Monty was running from that fact, seemingly. Not that Kaden could blame him. He didn’t want to face any of this himself and it wasn’t his farm. It wasn’t what he had built over the last five or six years. It had become his home, sure, but it wasn’t the same. 

He wasn’t going to think about how many of his own belongings had gone up in the flames with the rest. He wasn’t sure if he could. Not yet. Hey, at least he still had his family hunter journals back at the cabin, all intact and unburnt. Useful. Just what he needed. 

“Of course he can stay inside. He’s inside the house half the time anyway.” His own words stung. Kaden spoke as if the farmhouse was still standing, that it would be back any minute. Right. “Yeah, there are tools and things. Andy left stuff and I had things from fixing up the cabin. I don’t know if we have lumber but there’s probably enough to get started on.” 

He wanted to take a deep breath, but the thought of filling his lungs with the smoke and death made his stomach churn. So did the idea of lying in the bed in the mostly empty cabin with the dogs and Philip while Monty did his best to make a paddock overnight. “Can you–” He stopped, clamping his jaw shut before he could say something stupid. He wasn’t going to ask Monty to stay still, to help him get to sleep, not tonight. Not yet. Even so, he wondered if the man should be left alone. Kaden didn’t have a solution. Except one. “I’ll help. Much as I can. Maybe just shouldn’t be the one using the saw.” He leaned over, wrapping an arm around the cowboy’s waist, as much to help steady himself as to offer comfort. 

—

The instinct to find work in the face of loss was a trained one. In the days of Hector, there had never been time or space for mourning. If one of them was killed, it almost certainly meant that the law was on their scent, and they needed to pack up and move. Tearing down tents and tables, storing everything back in the caravan and getting the horses hooked up and ready to ride hard for days on end — there was no time. They might recover the bodies if they could, but usually not. Usually there was no sort of burial, no honest goodbye. At most, there’d be a night of drinking in the wake of the death where people would share their favorite memories of the deceased. There was no time for a vigil, no place for an ofrenda. And Monty never usually took part in the drinking. He cared for his found family, he did, but facing their mortality, facing the reality of the life he had been dragged into and had since accepted was often too much for him. So he kept his distance from the bonfires, lingering on the edges of their new campsites to instead tend to the horses and make sure all of the wagons had been properly unloaded. 

He did not handle death well, which was ironic, considering.

But… he had also never really had someone who was going through that death experience with him. The last time their farm had been attacked, Kaden had helped the rest of the farm hands stay up all night while they gathered the dead to bury them. There’d been no complaint or hesitation from any of them, but maybe that strength came from community; from the ceaseless, tireless support of a dozen or more undead people dedicated to the animals they cared for. It was just them now. Just the two of them and Dallas, who had already demonstrated that iron will to get things done even when all you wanted to do was collapse to the ground. Monty had to be strong like that, too, right? He had to keep them moving. But as he looked at Kaden, as he heard the hesitation in the other’s voice and saw how exhausted he appeared, Monty’s resolve began to weaken. Maybe it wasn’t the answer, not now. Not this time. Kaden agreed to help, and the guilt returned. That arm snaked around his waist, and Monty felt something terrible creeping up to the surface. 

“I…” He thought of Dallas, jogging down the road in the dead of night to go bother some poor neighbor and ask them for help. He wondered what the man was thinking, what he was feeling, in the absence of his twin brother. None of them had made it, god, none of them. “No, I… you don’t…” He couldn’t push Kaden like he had always pushed himself. That wasn’t right, it wasn’t fair. But he knew what his partner feared, and he couldn’t make him face that alone, either. Monty turned to face Kaden in his grasp, lifting his hands to frame the other’s face. He felt his chest constrict and cave inward as a sob tried to sneak its way out, but the zombie held onto it, briefly closing his eyes in response. “... actually, I think that the horses and llama will be fine hitched outside for one night,” he compromised, afraid of what that meant he was going to have to confront that night. The sooner the better, right? Kaden needed sleep, and sleep was not going to come if they didn’t… talk. Or something. 

He stared up at Kaden for a few seconds longer before pulling the metaphorical pin out of the grenade. “What am I going to do without her?” he asked in a small, trembling voice. It wasn’t a question he expected to have answered, but he needed to speak his despair out into the world. Daisy was gone, and he didn’t know what to do with that. She’d been his rock through everything since arriving in Wicked’s Rest, and she’d helped him become the person he was today. Whenever he didn’t know what to do, he always turned to her. She was his best friend, his most trusted confidant, and she was just… gone. 

His emotions betrayed him, refusing to remain behind bars any longer. The grenade went off, and Monty buried himself in Kaden’s embrace, hugging onto him like he was the last lifeline the zombie had. 

—

“We can make a hitching post quick if we need to. Put up a tarp, maybe.” Kaden was almost certain that Monty would insist on doing it all himself, that he would push the ranger away for the night, keep an arm’s length if only to hold off his own burden of grief. He didn’t know what he would do if his partner tried, if that was the path he wanted to take, but it didn’t matter. The cowboy turned to face him and Kaden knew that the dam was about to break. He wouldn’t call it relief, but something close to it when he recognized that look. It didn’t last past the point that the man in his arms crumbled under the weight of the night. 

Putain, he wished he had an answer for Monty, some sort of salve that could treat the pain that sat deeper, well beyond the surface level burns. What was he going to do without Daisy? Without the farm? Without any of what he’d built? Without his home? He didn’t know. He didn’t know and there was nothing to say that could begin to answer it all. 

The only thing he could do was hold on. He held onto Monty, held him up and held onto the lifeline between them just as tight. Parts of him wanted to collapse, too, to give into it all, but he would save his grief for later if he could. Right now he needed to hold onto his partner as he let the loss around him sink in, his arms wrapped tight around him, fingers combed through his hair as he held on, his body pressed as close as he could. There was no way to keep Monty from falling apart, not after everything that happened, but he wanted to be ready to pick up the pieces best he could. 

It was easier if all he had to focus on was Monty. His loss. His family. His belongings. His animals. It was easier if Kaden didn’t have to acknowledge what had been his own. For now, he just had to hold on. 

—

Grief, Monty discovered, felt very different when you were not shoving it away, masking it and suffering that internal turmoil alone. Standing here, held up by Kaden and loved in a way he’d never been loved before, finally allowing himself to feel what he needed to, he realized why the others in his past life had always shared their grief around the fire and used liquor as a means to help them express themselves. They might not’ve wept into each other’s arms, but they had that sense of camaraderie that Monty had always lacked, had always removed himself from. He’d often felt suffocated by his grief, but the worst had come on that day that Hector turned on him. When all the man could see was a monster, when Monty had no more breath to steal. That had been the worst pain he’d ever felt, and it burrowed in deep. As he fled, first Oaxaca and then the country all together, it had taken root in his heart. It kept him away from people, working to survive but never, ever letting anyone get that close again. Despite not needing to breathe, he’d been suffocating for decades. The grief was ever-present, never leaving him be, never letting him grow beyond it. 

Not until he’d met Daisy. She had recognized that grief, somehow, and carefully weeded it from his chest. Teased it apart until it was a separate thing, a thing he could put in a box and put away for the first time in a century. He owed her for that. He owed her for this life he had now — if not for her, he’d still be a vagabond, drifting aimlessly as he just tried to avoid confronting what had damaged him. But she had made it her mission to course-correct him, and needing someone else to take that sort of control, Monty had allowed it. And he’d flourished, hadn’t he? For a time. Everything he’d just lost was thanks to her. Even the things he hadn’t lost, the person doing his best to be there for Monty while dealing with his own sense of loss, had only ever become more than a casual acquaintance because Monty remembered what Daisy had said to him. You’ve got to start lettin’ people in, sugar. Don’t be afraid. Most of us are real nice, I promise. You meet someone you like because they make you laugh, because you got the same values, or even just cuz they’re cute! You let ‘em in, alright? Try, anyway. For me. And he had. He’d invited Kaden to get coffee with him, because Kaden had somehow managed to do everything Daisy had ever said was worthy of getting to know someone better in a single afternoon. And he was cute. 

He wasn’t suffocating this time, but he felt weak. He wasn’t sure how to climb this mountain, because he’d never really done it before. Kaden had, though. Kaden had lost someone close to him and had come out of it still capable of having love in his heart. So all Monty really knew was that he’d need his partner beside him for this. Without him and without Daisy, he feared he might fall deeper into that canyon where there was no air to breathe, and where no sunlight could reach him. He didn’t want to go back there. 

It was unclear how long they’d been standing there, barely holding themselves together, when the rumble of an engine met their ears. Monty only reacted after Kaden had, lifting his head and swiping a hand over his eyes as he looked down the road to see two headlights coming their way, the sound of the truck followed by the familiar squeak and rattle of a trailer bouncing down an old dirt road. The cowboy sighed with relief, glad to get them all moving again. Lingering here on the edge of the burned out property was getting to be too much. 

The truck came to a stop, and Dallas climbed out of it. Leaving the door open and the engine running, he approached the two with a solemn look on his face. “Y’all take the trailer, I can follow in your truck, boss,” he said, unhitching Habanero from the fence. Monty nodded, looking to Kaden. He wasn’t sure what Dallas wanted to do once everyone was settled, but he wasn’t going to turn the man away. 

—

Kaden didn’t know much, he never claimed to, but he knew that there was nothing that he could say or do to make this better. Nothing could bring back what was lost — who they’d lost. He was familiar with that feeling in a way he wished he wasn’t. Monty should have been an old hat at loss by this point, too. He’d had years and years and though the ranger knew that the cowboy was no stranger to it, it was clear that he’d never suffered anything like this, nothing he’d ever let himself care about this deeply had been stripped away. Kaden knew the man had only opened himself up to living in the world around him within the past few years. Loss didn’t hurt you if you didn’t give yourself anything to lose. He knew that, too. 

The worst part was that Daisy wasn’t supposed to leave. She wasn’t supposed to die. She was supposed to stay long after Kaden was old and gone (well, if he made it to old age, he couldn’t say he really anticipated that). She was exactly who the cowboy needed as a friend and it always brought the hunter some comfort to know that she’d be there once he was gone. Monty wasn’t supposed to be alone. He couldn’t be—

Right, that was right. He wasn’t alone. Not right now. Neither of them were alone even if it probably felt that way. Kaden buried his face in Monty’s hair as he inhaled deep, still catching small scents of leather and hay under all the smoke and ash stinging at his nostrils. Would that be what he always smelled like now? Ash? Would the hay and leather be left in the past?

The smoke must have gotten into his eyes too, leaving them aching as he wiped tears away from them. It was the smoke. He was sure of it. Because it had to be. He had to hold himself together for his partner. Even if it was by a thread, he had to hold on for the rest of the night at the very least. He couldn’t think about how Daisy had always been there, had always been kind and bright, had clearly been the one to push Monty out of his shell and the reason why he was even standing there. He wasn’t going to remember the first football game on the farm when he had Daisy on his team, how she went along with his plan to distract Monty. Putain, he could use a good distraction right about now.

The lights beamed at them from down the road right on cue as Dallas rolled the truck and trailer towards them. Right. Time for the next part of the plan, the next action. He could do that. He gave his partner one last squeeze for good measure before heading over to the truck to help load in the few remaining animals. Some were still panicked and fretting but others were too exhausted by now to even think about panicking.

It was too few. This was too few. Three people and far too few animals. 

Kaden wasn’t going to think about that. Instead he turned to Monty once they were all settled and asked, “You want to drive or should I?” He didn’t know if his partner was up for it but at the same time, he figured concentrating on the road might be a good distraction in the moment. “I don’t mind either way.” 

—

Taro, Manzanita, Habanero, Sellama, Philip, Cinder, and Pomelo. These were all that remained on the side of the road with them: Monty knew that others had run for safety, and he hoped that they would find it. He hoped they would be found by people who would care for them, or at least who would contact Monty to let him know where they were, after he put up signs. But he knew, too, that a large number of prey animals escaping into the woods more likely meant that the predators of those forests would be eating well in the coming weeks. 

He didn’t like thinking about it. 

Clicking his tongue and patting the rear seat of the truck, Monty stepped aside to let Cinder and Pomelo leap up into the cab, then shut the door behind the dogs. Dallas was already in Monty’s truck, turning the engine over and waiting for them to take the lead. Monty looked at Kaden, thinking about his offer, then nodded his head at the driver’s side seat. “You drive,” he said softly, not trusting himself to remember the way even though he had driven that path many times over in the last year. 

The radio was off and the windows down. The dogs lay whimpering and trembling in the backseat, and Monty could hear Philip complaining from the trailer, bleating into the night. The cowboy leaned his head back and closed his eyes, replaying the events of the night in his mind. Running to the stables, flying up the steps of the main house as it burned around him to get the dogs out, standing down at the road with the others when he realized Daisy was not present. He’d tried to go back in after her, but he’d been stopped. At that point, the fire had consumed everything. Whoever was still left on the property was lost, but Monty hadn’t wanted to believe it. He’d fought to get free, to sprint back into the flames himself. He’d screamed her name, but was met with deadly silence. He felt sick. He felt — 

Monty clenched his jaw so hard he thought he might crack a tooth. He wasn’t sure if he felt more forlorn or furious in that moment, the two blending to create an emotion that made it difficult to sit still. He wondered how long he was going to feel like this, swinging wildly between depressed and enraged. 

He wondered if Kaden felt the same. He wondered if Kaden, in those moments of anger, felt like he wanted to go after the people that had done this. 

Monty did. 

—

Kaden nodded and slid into the front seat, hands gripping the steering wheel as he waited for the dogs to tumble into the back. He checked the rear view mirror and saw Shadow was already there curled up before the other two canines had a chance to settle in. In all the chaos and confusion, the one thing he knew was that he didn’t have to worry about his own dog. Whatever part of the anomaly that had given the canine the ability to phase through walls had made him hard to keep track of as a puppy but it was a blessing in instances like this. Putain, he hoped that there wouldn’t be more of this in the future but he was fooling himself if he thought this was the last dangerous situation they’d face in this town. 

The urge to lash out and slam the heel of his hand into the horn swelled through him. But the blaring sound never came. His hands never left the steering wheel except to turn the ignition and put the truck in drive. Kaden couldn’t find the energy to summon any anger, not now. All of his focus was on the path ahead of him, the pavement lit by the headlights as they drove to the cabin. He wanted it to feel like going home; he told himself they were going home. 

It only felt like they were driving away from it. From the ashes that remained. Not enough of them had walked away. 

The white dashes on the road marched along as the truck rolled forward. Kaden watched them, finding a sort of trance in them. He had to. Otherwise he might have to face the death, carry it with him and let it soak in. He would have to face that death found a way of following him, that he never felt like he could find solid ground. No, he wasn’t going to think about that. He was going to simply watch the lines on the road ahead all the way to the cabin.

Once they pulled in and he turned off the truck, he was stuck again. The easy part had passed. The getting from point A to point B. Now they had to deal with the animals. Find what was still there for them in the cabin. Figure out how to sleep (well, at least he had to do that much). It all felt like a fifty meter tall wall staring at him in the face, blocking the way. Getting out of the car would mean he would have to start climbing. 

At least he wasn’t alone. As hollow and empty as it all felt, at least there was that. Kaden reached out and took one of Monty’s cold hands in his own, giving it a squeeze, unsure if it was more for his own sake or his partner’s, a small reminder that they hadn’t lost everything. Even if it felt like damn near close. 

—

All the anger that had been building inside him evaporated once they actually reached the cabin and Kaden took his hand. It looked imposing in the darkness of the hour, standing like a monument to his failure to protect the people he cared about and the home he had built. Here is where mistakes come to fester and rot. Here is where you’ll be reminded every day that you weren’t good enough to keep anyone safe. … It was just a cabin. A cabin he’d had no problem with until now — until their shell shocked crawl had brought them here with nowhere else to go. It was just a cabin that felt like defeat, that looked like remorse, that sounded like recompense as he heard the wind whistling through slightly ajar windows and tall trees creaking overhead once they’d gotten out of the truck. 

It was just a cabin. 

Dallas pulled up beside them, killing the engine and getting out of the truck. He nodded at the pair, then gestured at the cabin. “Go inside,” he told them. “Go rest. I can take care of things out here.” Monty inhaled sharply, ready to tell him absolutely not, but the stern look that flashed across the large man’s face shut him up. “I’ve got it,” Dallas insisted, glancing at the borrowed trailer still packed full of animals. “I’ll get ‘em set up with a place to sleep, boss. Take the dogs, n’ go inside.” Knowing there was no sense in arguing with Dallas once he’d set his mind to something, Monty just nodded and looked to Kaden. He swayed on the spot for a moment before reaching for his hand again, giving him a gentle tug toward the front door of the cabin. Dallas stood quietly in the dark for a few moments before beginning his inspection of the property, flashlight in hand as he hunted for the best place to build a crude shelter. 

Three dogs in tow, the couple ascended the steps on the porch and made their way into the house. It felt cold, even though Monty couldn’t really sense such things. His gaze drifted to the staircase that led up to the place Kaden used to sleep, when his cousins were here. How badly Monty wished for their bright, comforting presence now. The dogs were already milling about, sniffing everything as they toured the inside of the house like it was the first time they’d been here. Monty came to a stop in the living room, letting out a shuddering sigh. He could hear Dallas outside, encountering the shed where Andy’s woodworking supplies had been left. He should have had everything he needed for the task at hand, though that did little to assuage Monty’s guilt. He should be helping. He should be doing something, not just standing here. 

But Kaden needed rest. He needed sleep, if it would come. And Monty couldn’t just abandon him. “So… what comes first?”

[gossipsnake]

TIMING: Current LOCATION: Prickly Pear Acres PARTIES: Anita (@gossipsnake) Kaden (@chasseurdeloup) Monty (@howdy-cowpoke) and Ford (written by Nash) SUMMARY: Anita, Kaden, Monty, and farmhand Ford all sign up to take part in the three-legged race at the Prickly Pear Acre's party when a switcheroo throws everyone off their game. CONTENT WARNINGS: n/a

In her human form, speed was not something Anita was exceptional at - her shorter stature, while helpful in other areas, was certainly not an asset in this particular area. That did not stop her from deciding, almost immediately upon seeing the sign up sheet at the Prickly Pear Acres party, that she was going to compete in and win the three-legged race. She had arrived to Monty’s party alone which meant that she had the option to scope the party for the perfect race partner without having to feel obligated to sign up with whomever she had arrived with. She figured that would be the downfall of many race participants. 

Instead, Anita decided that she would find a way to make her height work for her by finding a partner of a near exact height so that their strides would be in sync. That resulted in much of her party chit-chat being height-based and most of her time checking out the woman at the party spent assessing their shoes for race practicality. Most, not all. Several of the first few people she approached thought she was being “too intense” about the race and needed to “relax” because “it’s just a party.” Their lack of commitment ruled them out as suitable race partners before their words could have, anyway. 

Eventually she had found someone of acceptably similar height with sensible shoes who was willing to race alongside her to victory, and Antia wrote their names down on the sheet - Anita and Dorothy - just in time before the event was getting ready to begin. She scanned the list for their competition which wasn’t particularly helpful as she only knew a handful of the names. That did not change her confidence in victory. “Is there a prize for the victors?” she asked, to nobody in particular, as she approached the area where the race was set up. 

—

As much as Kaden had hoped he could get away with not participating in too many of the more ridiculous games at the party, he knew there was no way he could avoid them entirely – not given who he was dating. Whatever, it would probably be fun, whatever it was he got roped into, even if he didn’t want to admit it. “Three-legged race, huh?” he said to his partner as they approached the sign up sheet. Putain. They were going to look ridiculous, weren’t they? Kaden wanted to be annoyed, but he couldn’t keep the smile off his face as he jotted down their names.

He recognized a lot of them but he wasn’t worried about anyone on that list. Sure, he was going to look stupid, but he was also sure they were going to win. They may be almost a foot difference in height between them both but Kaden had a plan. “Remember to stand on my foot. And if you can get your knee closer to mine, that should help.” He’d been strategizing a lot more than he wanted to admit for something so trivial but he knew damn well that Monty was as competitive as he was, if not more. 

Kaden had to admit, he was surprised to see Anita ready and eager to race. “Victors?” he repeated. “Pretty big title for someone winning a hobbling race.” Now that he considered it, he didn’t know a whole lot about her one way or the other. For all he knew she did this regularly and was a three-legged race champion. Wouldn’t be the weirdest thing in this town. “What makes you think you’re going to win, anyway?”

—

Monty was not especially familiar with American party games, or… party games in general, if he was honest with himself. What was the last party he’d been to? Anita had invited him to her birthday, but he’d ended up backing out at the last minute, too anxious to attend. It was partly the fault of his paranoia due to everything going on with the farm lately, but really mostly just social anxiety. He was awkward and quiet, at least until you put a fútbol in front of him. And that hadn’t been added to the roster of activities for tonight, for a number of reasons… one of which was maybe his excessively competitive nature. 

The joke was on everyone that had pitched in these ideas, though, because Monty was discovering that he could be competitive about damn near anything. 

Nodding along with Kaden’s suggestions, he could see them winning. Could feel it, and was grinning broadly as the other contestants lined up near the starting point. Anita was there (he was so glad to see her again, and glad she’d forgiven him for being too chicken to go to her extravagant party), her partner, and a few others. Seeing Ford hovering around with his partner as well, Monty gave him an energetic wave. Ford was… familiar with Monty’s “exuberance” when it came to their weekly games of fútbol. 

“Yeah, Anita! Kaden and I have a plan… we’re definitely going home with… whatever the prize is. Is there a prize?” He had no idea — Daisy had been in charge of that. As if summoning her with a thought, the zombie smiled at his friend as she strolled up to the group, clapping her hands together to get their attention. 

“Alrighty, y’all! I see everyone has signed up with their racin’ partners… bettin’ you’ve all been busy strategizin’... which is why we’ve decided to throw a little wrench in your game. Folks, we are switchin’ y’all up!” Monty’s eyes went wide as Daisy started shuffling everyone around, grabbing him by the shoulder and dragging him over to where Ford was, and doing the same to Kaden, sticking him with Anita. “No! Wait! Our plan!” he complained, barely holding onto the rope that Daisy shoved into his arms with a smirk. 

—

When it came to pretty people, Ford was a sucker. All of his life, and undead one at that, he’d been willing to do the stupidest things just to put a smile on the face of someone he was trying to impress and it seemed party games were not an exception to that rule. As soon as the girl’s arm was around his waist, twisting him towards the sign ups for the three legged race, he was in. Generally, he didn’t care if they won or not, just as long as he got to be stuck to the woman’s side for the whole ordeal. Besides, if they lost he could at least console her afterwards.

Lining up, he flashed a bright smile over towards Monty and his boyfriend, noting that with those two entering the fun that he was definitely going to have a good time after the games. He didn’t have the fire in him to match his boss’ energy for competition, he was just there for a good time. Add Kaden into it and no one else stood a chance. Not even the attractive woman throwing smack their way. 

His grin was wiped off his face with Daisy’s words, the farmhand ready to have some words with her when she took the hand of his partner and led her away to someone else. He was still staring after the girl when Daisy brought Monty to his side and declared them partners for this one. It could have been worse he supposed but there was definitely no consoling the man if they didn’t win. 

Seeing the distress of his boss, Ford allowed his bright smile to slip back onto his lips and, after one more look at the girl he was trying to impress, he turned to Monty and shrugged. “So, tell me the plan, bud. We got this. I just hope Kaden doesn’t try to railroad us since he knows the tricks you’ve got up your sleeve.” Taking the rope from Monty’s hand, he bent to start tying them together as Daisy seemed to be pushing for things to start now so no more protesting could reach her ears. Man, she had some complaints coming her way. “What tricks are we talking about again?”

—

“Yes, the victors. That is how to accurately describe people who win at competitive events.” Anita huffed. She had never been able to put her finger on it but there was something about Kaden that ever so slightly irked Anita. But she liked Monty a great deal, so considering that he must have seen something redeemable in his partner, she opted to extend the benefit of the doubt. She smiled at Monty, finding his optimism endearing even if it was misplaced. “What makes me so confident?” she gestured towards her partner, then showed off their compatible height by standing back-to-back with her. “We will move as one down this racetrack. That is what makes me confident.” 

Anita had been sizing up the other competition -  literally, trying to assess if there was a more perfect height match pairing - when she heard the farmhand organizing the event say that they would be getting reassigned partners. “No, no, no! You can’t do that. There is nothing in the rules that said we could not strategize! There is no rule against informed planning!” She tried to reach out and grab her perfectly sized original partner's hand as Daisy dragged her away, but it was pointless. Looking over, and up, Anita saw that her new pair of shared legs belonged to Kaden. “Mierda. You are far too tall.” 

Not letting this shake her confidence, Anita began working on tying their legs together with the provided rope. Her eyes drifted over to Monty and his new partner. It was almost laughable how much better of a height match they were than she and Kaden. “You better not throw this race just so your vaquero can win.” 

—

“Putain de merde,” Kaden grumbled at the news. There went all the strategizing. Even worse, he had to look stupid with Anita instead of Monty. On top of that, he had to beat his hyper competitive partner now. Still, Kaden scoffed at the woman as she suggested that he’d throw the race. “Please. I couldn’t let his ego get that big intentionally.” He took a deep breath and tried to assess the new situation. He didn’t know Anita very well but there was no denying the competitive drive she displayed. That was going to have to be enough. 

“Okay so the best thing to do is for you to stand on my foot and then–” He barely got a full sentence out before Daisy was shouting at them to line up, walking by to double check the rope on each pair. Clearly Daisy didn’t trust them not to overthink that, too. Which, alright, that was probably fair. Before they could strategize much further, the countdown was starting. 

“Hold on and keep your knee here. No, here.” He wasn’t sure why he bothered, Daisy had shouted “GO!” well before they could get their shit together. All they could do was hobble as fast as they could. Kaden had his arm around Anita, gripping her waist possibly a little tighter than was comfortable. It was hard to temper his hunter strength completely while in the throws of competition. He wished he could say they were graceful and gliding across the field, but that was far from the reality of the situation. If anything, they were consistently on the edge of tripping over and falling flat on their faces. It didn’t matter because all that mattered was they were a hair ahead of Monty and Ford. Which meant they had to keep going, however stupid and ungainly they were in the moment. 

“Come on, come on, come o–” Kaden felt his toe hit onto a root and he did everything in his power to keep his balance, holding onto Anita for dear life. It was up to her to keep them upright and secure the win. 

—

“Oh, he’s going to try and railroad us,” Monty complained with a laugh, letting Ford tie their legs together and casting a good-natured glare in his boyfriend’s direction. “But that’s okay, we aren’t gonna take it lying down!” Before he could explain the tricks Kaden had come up with, Daisy was shouting at them to begin. Monty grabbed onto Ford’s arm and started to drag their restrained legs forward—they weren’t any closer in height than he and Kaden, and there was a distinct lack of coordination between them. Monty tried to get his foot on top of Ford’s but couldn’t position it without nearly toppling over now that they were all  already on the move. 

“¡Oye! Vamanos!” he hollered, seeing Kaden and Anita start to pass them up. He was half shouting and half laughing as he tried again to get his foot where it needed to be so that the taller of them could guide their steps. “I’ve got to—just—ah!” It was no use, and Monty was getting more and more stressed the farther behind they fell. He noticed Kaden nearly tripping on something and bent over, quickly pulling off the boot of his free foot in mid-step and hucking it at Kaden’s legs, hoping to trip him up even more.

—

“Oh, man, they don’t look happy.” To be fair, Ford hadn’t been very happy either but he at least liked his partner. Those two looked at each other like they would rather be anywhere else. It was more amusing than anything. He’d just secured the rope, the farmhand trying to listen to Monty as he listed off tips, but Daisy was in a menacing mood it seemed as she shouted for them all to go. Ford almost stumbled as Monty took off. He quickly found his footing but it didn’t seem he was quick enough as Kaden and his partner started to pass.

It was Monty’s shouts that had Ford grinning, amused at how wound up all of these people could get over a silly little game. “I’m going, I’m going!” He laughed out the words, trying his best to pick up the pace but things weren’t looking so good for the two of them as Monty tried to get a foot onto his own. “Come on, cowboy, you got this! I can’t slow down or I might get fired by the end of this.” It was all in good fun, of course…at least to him, it was. 

It was impressive the way Monty was able to pull that shoe off and his laugh rang out to mix in with all the cheers of people watching the game as it was tossed towards their main competition. The dirty tricks gave Ford the idea to wrap an arm around Monty’s waist and carry him the rest of the way, running like hell, but he had a feeling that Daisy wouldn’t allow them to enjoy that win. With the stumble though, it looked like the two of them might pass and get their lead back. “Way to kick em’ while they’re down, boss. You want me to grab Kaden’s collar and pull him back too?”

_ 

Not having to be told twice to stand on Kaden’s foot, Anita got herself into position even as the organizer hurried everyone along to the starting point of the race. He wanted her to keep her knee in a position that was not realistic, though. “You are too tall!” She yelled very quickly into the race starting. His frustrating physical qualities did not stop her, however, from working as valiantly as she possibly could to keep pace and rhythm with him. But every move they made felt so clunky. She was overextending herself trying to match his stride and for a moment she felt like he was about to lift her right off the ground and carry her to the finish line like an american football. Which, of course, would be cheating. Three feet on the ground at all times. There were rules. This was a civilized game. 

It was working, mostly, until Kaden opened his mouth. As if Anita needed a verbal reminder to keep going. Monty and his partner, Ford, had just fallen far enough behind to no longer be in her peripheral vision when she began to see something far more troubling. Kaden lost his balance; killing whatever momentum the pair had been gaining. 

As he clung onto her waist tighter, Anita instinctively let scales replace the fleshy skin of her abdomen to provide a more sturdy base for him to cling to. But it didn’t matter because their host wasn’t interested in a fair race. The boot did more than just hit its intended target and after making contact with the back of Kaden’s legs, the weight of the boot’s heel came crashing down onto Anita’s ankle. The pain stung. Under better circumstances she may have been able to power through. Desperately, she tried to keep the two of them upright, grabbing onto Kaden’s arm to pull him forward and upright, but much like a Jenga tower that couldn’t stand to lose any more structural integrity their fate was practically sealed. 

—

“No, you’re too sh– Putain!” Kaden shouted as something hit his leg. The fuck was that? He craned around to see Monty with one goddamn shoe on and a boot sitting on the ground behind Anita and Kaden’s conjoined leg. “You little shit!” he called out as he scrambled to get himself and Anita upright. 

He wasn’t sure if he was imagining the chill down his spine or if that was just some weird result of being hit by his boyfriend’s boot in the back of the leg. There was no time to examine that. The only thing he had time to do was grab onto Anita and stumble forward for dear life. Obviously that’s what the three legged race was: a life or death situation. 

They had fallen behind, of course, but only by a little. Both of them had taken a tumble so they were practically neck and neck now. There were other people in the race, sure, but the only person he needed to beat was Monty. He only had eyes for him. “Two can play that game,” he grumbled to himself. “Hold on,” he told Anita as he threw his shoulder into Ford, trying to knock them off balance. Sure, it hadn’t helped his balance any but that wasn’t the point. 

—

Before Monty could tell Ford that he absolutely should grab Kaden’s collar, the aforementioned Frenchman was throwing his weight into Ford, knocking all four of them to the ground. Monty erupted with laughter, slapping the ground in defeat as he pushed Ford’s weight off of him, knowing there was no way they were even finishing this thing, now. The other racers were already crossing the finish line, leaving them in the proverbial dust. 

“Ah! You got too greedy!” he chastised Kaden, as if he hadn’t done the same exact thing. Daisy came walking their way, hands on her hips and her head shaking from side to side as she tried to look disappointed through her laughter. “Anita, I am sorry for hitting you with my boot.”

“Well!” Daisy exclaimed as she stood over them, “Ain’t this just a sight! Y’all cost poor Ford his win to impress his date!” She gave the other farm hand a wink, reaching out a hand to help him (and Monty) up. “That’s okay, though… she ended up winnin’ without you, so I think it’s your turn to be impressed, buddy.”

—

The impact of Kaden rushing into him threw Ford completely off. Normally he had better balance than this but with his leg tied to another and the surprise factor the zombie felt himself tumbling over his own partner, an ‘oof’ escaping him with the feel of the other two’s weight falling on top of him. Soon, after the dizzying stars had cleared his vision, his laughter joined Monty’s, glad that his boss had enough humor to see the fun in all of this. That’s what the games were about anyway.

He sat up after being pushed off of his boss, the palms of his hands hitting the ground between his legs with a sharp ‘slap’ as Daisy walked over to the four of them. Nodding at her words, Ford looked over to where his friend was jumping up and down with her partner and his grin grew wider. “Hey, even better. This means I get to give her the victory kiss.” His gaze went back to his coworker as he winked. “It’s a win-win, really.” And then he looked around at everyone else on the ground with him, grimacing. “Sorry, guys…you all just lose, I guess. But this was a lot of fun.”

_ 

Before she could even protest the clearly ill-conceived idea, Kaden was hurdling his body into Ford and Monty. His body, which was tied to hers. As they tumbled to the ground, a jumbled mess of limbs, Anita watched as her original chosen partner crossed over the finish line. She didn’t waste a moment untying herself from Kaden, fuming at the loss that she would surely attribute solely to him. “Your boot wouldn’t have been able to hit me if we had been moving faster.” 

The sting of the loss would wear off by the time she was able to get a margarita in her hand, but until that moment, Anita had little desire to sit around and collect grass stains while laughing about how quickly her winning strategy was torn away from her. In fairness, it was not really Monty, or Ford, or even Kaden who was to blame. Glaring up at the woman standing over them, the woman who cost her victory, she huffed “If anyone cost him a chance to impress his date it was you. Separating everyone.” 

Anita brushed off her dress as she stood up. “I cannot think of a good lie to explain why I am leaving, so I am just going to leave. Not the party,” she said, looking towards Monty, “there is much more to do here at the party. But you are an awful racing partner.” That time, directing her gaze to Kaden. Without waiting for a response, she turned and left, dispersing into the crowd of guests as she hoped to find a way to redeem her party ego. 

—

Despite everything, Kaden was doubled over laughing at how silly the whole thing was. They looked like idiots, all of them, but not the way he anticipated they would. No, in fact they looked stupider. He wanted to roll his eyes at Anita storming off, too, but he couldn’t stop cackling. “You’re welcome,” he shouted as she walked away, wiping the dirt off his pants (at least some of it) and pushing himself off the ground. “Sure sounds like you’re the real winner, though,” he said to Ford, giving him a pat on the shoulder before he headed off to go give Dorothy that kiss. 

Kaden wrapped an arm around his partner, relieved that they were no longer temporary rivals, and scrunched up his face to make it look like he was deep in thought. “You know, in that case, if she gets a victory kiss, I’m pretty sure that means I get a loser’s kiss.” He grinned ear to ear before leaning in to steal a kiss from his partner. “Yeah, still pretty good.” It was nice, to finally have a moment where they could all just relax, have a good time. Things had been so tense lately after the last month or so. The change in pace was more than welcome. And there was still plenty of time left in the night. 

[ohwynne]

TIMING: Early April PARTIES: Emilio @mortemoppetere & Kaden @chasseurdeloup & Wynne @ohwynne LOCATION: Worm Row SUMMARY: Kaden helps Emilio and Wynne get a passport. They half-succeed. WARNINGS: None.

Kaden didn’t know the details of why the hell Emilio needed to convince Nora to come home from another country but those didn’t matter too much. Despite the issues Monty may have with the guy, Emilio was another hunter – one who seemed to have similar enough values to his own which was rare to say the least. He was going to help out. It’s what hunters did for one another, that was how you survived. And however annoying he might find Nora, the connection Emilio had with her was clear. If the situations were reversed, if it had been Alex, he knew the slayer would do whatever he could to help him. It was an easy choice to connect him and Wynne to Buzzy to get whatever papers they might need fast, no matter what that meant he might owe the guy this time.

The office in question wasn’t too far from Axis, funny enough. Kaden waited a few doors down from the entrance for the others, he knew Buzzy liked to keep it discreet. “This way,” he said when he saw the pair of them. He’d seen Wynne in and out of the cabin a few times and knew they were a good kid. If they were willing to put themselves out there for Nora, too, he had to believe Nora was worth going out on a limb for after all. Kaden approached the door of Marcelli & Associates Ltd. and rapped on the door in a pattern that was probably morse code for something that he never bothered learning. Two hard knocks back and he knew they were cleared and everyone was on the same page of what kind of business they were here for. 

Once they were all shuffled inside, Kaden shut the door and addressed the man at the desk. “Long time no see, Buzzy,” he said with a nod. “Got a favor to ask you.”

“And you brought the whole gang with you to do it,” the man replied. Buzzy looked up from whatever notes he was scrawling and got a good look at all of them for the first time, his face souring in a way that Kaden didn’t get a good feeling about. “You know I don’t hand out favors, Langley. Even to you. And especially not to him.” His eyes narrowed as he stared down Emilio and it was clear that this wasn’t the first time they’d met. Putain de merde, what the fuck had the slayer done to piss this guy off already? Besides being himself. “Anyway, you,” he said to Wynne. “Who are you, kid? You a hunter, too? You must be some kind of special if Langley’s daring to drag you in to see me. What do you need?”

—

Citizenship had never been a particularly big concern for Emilio. It was the last thing most hunters worried about. When your ‘life plans’ included dying a violent death before you were forty, entering into a long, drawn out process for the grand prize of paperwork wasn’t really high on your to do list. He never thought it would bite him in the ass like this, though. Nora, in another country, in a community he had more than just a bad feeling about, and Emilio trapped an ocean away with no way to get to her… It wasn’t something he wanted to experience. So, when Langley mentioned knowing a guy who could get him papers good enough to land him on an airplane, Emilio hadn’t hesitated. It would cut the time involved in the process for Wynne in half, too.

But… the closer they got to the guy’s ‘office,’ the less confident Emilio felt. The streets were familiar, obviously — this was close to his apartment, after all. But the building Kaden led them to was familiar, too. “What did you say this guy’s name was again?” Emilio asked lowly as Kaden knocked on the door. Before the ranger could answer, said door was swinging open to reveal an unfortunately familiar face. Emilio tensed, jaw tightening. Right. 

Of course Kaden’s contact was someone Axis had once screwed over. He could still remember the case — some trembling twenty-something who’d had her identity stolen, begging for a solution in a way Emilio was never going to be able to say no to. He wasn’t sure what the end result had been for Buzzy’s business, but he knew it had taken a hell of a hit. And, given the look the other man was giving Emilio, he hadn’t exactly forgotten about it. Maybe if Emilio stayed quiet enough, he could still get what he needed out of this. He glanced to Wynne, figuring their odds were better here if he let them do the talking.

—

They wondered if there was such a thing as a chronically nervous person in the field of psychology. If there was, they probably were one. Wynne walked into Marcelli & Associates Ltd. with a tightness in their stomach, even if they were with two strong and capable hunters. At least, they assumed that Kaden was strong and capable. It seemed like a fair assessment, up until now, especially considering his willingness to help with this very illegal thing.

That was one of the sources of their discomfort. Though they didn’t always agree with the law and especially not the government, they didn’t enjoy breaking rules. But no longer were they as passive as they had once been and it was simple, really. They needed to help their friend in need, who would do the same for them. So they tried to stand straight and tried to make polite eye contact with the man called Buzzy. (Was that his real name?) Buzzy did not like Emilio, which was a red flag, even if Emilio was very good at making enemies. Wynne tried not to jump to his defense.

They were asked a question, after all, and they were good at answering questions. “I’m Wynne and I need a passport. It’s not — it won’t have to be a favor,” they clarified, “We will pay for it, of course.” That was something they had grown more used to, over this past year. The power of money. How it could make many things happen, even if they hadn’t quite figured out how to do that. “And oh, no. I’m not a hunter. I’m just –” They weren’t sure. “I’m Wynne.” They remembered themself. “Please.”

Buzzy’s sour expression had a hint of confusion to it as he took stock of the stranger in the room, looking up at Langley for an explanation. “The fuck.” It was half-question, half-statement. A finger pointed at Cortez without addressing him. “And I reckon he’s in need of one too? Don’t have a falsified document growing tree in my backyard.” Heaven knew it wouldn’t grow in Worm Row, anyway.

—

Kaden raised a brow and looked at Emilio. How the fuck had he screwed this up before he walked in the goddamn door? He waited for some kind of explanation from the slayer, but none came. Putain de merde. 

“Cut the crap,” Kaden said to the guy. “I know you can get a passport or two in your sleep. It’s not like I’m asking for a social security number or five.” As much as he hated leveraging his last name in this town, there were some times that it came in handy. It was risky running around in hunter circles, considering half the people he cared about weren’t exactly human, but sometimes the risk was worth taking. 

“Oh, do you?” Buzzy said, shaking his head. “You know how this works, Langley, but let me explain to yous two.” The man leaned back in his seat as he addressed Emilio and Wynne in turn. “Money is great. Love it. Big fan. But if you ask me for special favors, I ask special prices, got it?” Kaden was hoping he wasn’t going to say that but he’d be lying if he said he hadn’t expected it. “Frankly, Cortez, I don’t think you can afford my prices. Not after the mess you and your little detective agency got me into. I have to applaud your audacity, though, I’l give you that. Try and shut me down for identity theft then waltz on in here for forged papers.” He burst out a laugh to punctuate his point. “So for now, let’s talk about the kid. You need a passport? And you need it quick, ey?” Kaden shifted nervously. He didn’t know if his “good” name was going to be enough to swing this deal, but it was worth a shot. 

“Now, pardon my French.” There was a moment’s hesitation as his eyes darted to Kaden. “No offense, Langley, but what are you, then? If you’re not a hunter, I’m assuming there’s some other kind of reason you’re coming to me and not the good ol’ US government. So what is it? You some kind of supernatural? That it? Or some kinda criminal?” Buzzy held up his hands in a mock surrender. “No judgment here, kid, none at all. Just need to know the truth of things so I can get the fakes right.” He laughed at his own joke. “You know I’m a little less inclined to help on account of you being with him,” he said pointing to Emilio, “but a gig’s a gig. And I have a few favors I could use taken care of so depending on the complexity, I’ll entertain it.” 

—

He was practically biting his tongue at this point, just trying to keep the smart remarks from slipping out. Axis’s policy tended to be more or less the same as the one Buzzy boasted here — a job was a job, and money was money. There’d been nothing personal about the job Emilio had done that had landed Buzzy in hot water but, roles reversed, Emilio doubted he’d have been bending over backwards to help Buzzy, either. And it wasn’t like he could afford a lot here; Buzzy was right about that. When it came to cash, Emilio was always scrambling. And with Teddy out of town and Nora having made off with their credit card to Ireland… Emilio was cut off from his usual cash flow. 

It had been a long shot, anyway. There’d been a moment of hope when Kaden said he might have a way to get Emilio and Wynne to Ireland, but hope wasn’t the kind of thing Emilio banked on. He’d been prepared already for it to be just Wynne and Regan’s friend, even if he hated the idea now just as much as he had when it had been introduced. It was far better than Wynne making the journey alone… even if the loss of control over the situation had Emilio’s skin crawling.

“Fine,” he ground out, exhaling shakily. “Just them, then. If we do the favors, will you get them what they need to fly somewhere?” He resisted the urge to add that he was more than happy to beat the necessary documents out of Buzzy’s vault; something told him that wasn’t the most effective strategy here.

—

Some of the talk went over their head and Wynne wasn’t sure what to say, so they kept quiet when it came to transactions and special favors. They didn’t have a lot of favors they could offer besides making meals and maybe fixing a leaky faucet, but they doubted the other wanted that kind of favor, or the one people at gas stations had asked for when on the road. They tried not to shiver at the thought. 

They nodded. “Yes, I need it quick,” they said. “I’m – human. And not a criminal.” Not convicted, anyway. They had condemned a man to death, which was probably not great. “But I …” Wynne swallowed. Maybe they should use the word they hated. “I escaped my commune that’s like a cult, so I don’t have much paperwork. And it will take a long time to do it officially, probably longer considering …” Well, the aforementioned not-a-cult. “Because of the nature of the place I left. They’ll want … answers and questions and everything, right? It will be a whole thing that’s best avoided.” They weren’t sure if that was true, but it seemed about right. “And I just —” They grit their teeth. “Don’t have the time.” Or the energy. Maybe the government would want to see their parents for this. Maybe it would lead to more and more things spiraling out of control now that the demon was no longer capable of protecting the Protherians. They needed to go get Nora, not bring bureaucracy to their former community. “I have a birth certificate, if that helps.”

They were looking at Emilio, wondering what the favors could be, but tried to focus on Buzzy. The idea that Emilio might not get a passport was concerning, but it was better to get one than none. It was also not their place to argue right now. “We will do it.”

—

Kaden was practically screaming his mind for Emilio to not fuck this up and to just keep his fucking mouth shut. Not that he had any delusions otherwise, but it was clear that neither of them were telepathic since the slayer just had to fucking chime in. Kaden gave his leg a small kick, hoping it wasn’t the one with the busted knee, to tell him to cut it out since the telepathy clearly wasn’t coming anytime soon.

“A cult, you say?” Buzzy asked, raising a brow. “I feel like I should be asking yous which one so I don’t accidentally ruin a business opportunity or two.” He waved his hand like he was swatting the notion away. “Actually don’t tell me, then I’m not lying when I say I don’t know shit. But sure, if you do the favors and if you don’t interfere with my business again, I get them a passport in a few days. Kapeesh?” Buzzy looked directly at Emilio as he answered the question. “Anyway, birth certificate helps plenty. Makes my job easier, one less thing to forge and a few more things to use for inspiration. Now, I’ll let yous g—

Kaden held up his hands to cut the guy off. “Before we agree, what kind of prices are we paying, Buzzy?” He was more than willing to pay them but he wanted to know what kind of shit he was getting into before they jumped off that particular cliff. 

“Langley,” Buzzy replied, putting a hand to his heart as if it were wounded, “do you really not trust me after all this?” The look Kaden shot him seemed to be enough of an answer for him. “Fine, fine, I’ll tell you. See I know you’re a ranger and I’ve got a siren that could use a shake down. Figured like something that would be up your alley. Hell, I bet that’s your typical Tuesday night, am I right?” Kaden’s face remained hardened, not as amused by the joke as Buzzy. “You hunters, are you all this sullen all the time? Geeze. I’d hate to go to one of your parties.” He said, shaking his head. “Anyway, got a few odd jobs like that for the two of yous. Shouldn’t be a problem.”

Kaden nodded, it was about what he expected. He didn’t love it but it would be worth it. At least, it better be. Buzzy shoved a contract to them to sign and the ranger had no intention of reading it all line by line but he skimmed it. Looked pretty similar to the one he signed last time for his own papers so he went ahead and signed, handing the pen to Wynne and Emilio in turn. 

“Perfect,” Buzzy said with a grin. “There’s one more thing, though.” With that, he reached down to pull out another piece of paper. This one was also full of legalese that Kaden couldn’t and wouldn’t parse through.

“The hell is that?” Kaden asked, brows furrowed. “If this is some kind of—”

This time it was Buzzy who held up his hands to silence Kaden. “Not a trick but you want a rush job, I need a little extra.” His eyes fell back to Emilio. “I’ve got a feeling Cortez in particular could be useful. What with that little detective business you got there. I’ve got some people I could use off my back.” He shoved the paper and pen towards the slayer. “What do you say?”

—

Kaden kicked his leg (the good one, thankfully), and Emilio shot him a glare that was far more half-hearted than what he might usually deliver. He’d been on edge since the moment Nora made her big announcement that she’d snuck along to Ireland to hang out with a community of banshees, and the fact that Wynne would soon be joining her, that Emilio would be an ocean away with no control over the situation… It only made things worse. Already, he could feel the shadows swirling in his mind, shrouding him in a darkness he didn’t quite know how to get out of. He kept going back to Mexico, to all the things that could happen when you were only a street away. How much worse could it be with an ocean blocking your path? 

Buzzy was speaking again, and it wasn’t politeness or self preservation or Kaden’s hard glare that kept Emilio from interrupting. He could barely hear the guy at all, could barely make out the sound of his voice over the sound of blood rushing in his ears. By the time he unpacked and translated Buzzy’s words, it was too late to make any dry comments, anyway. Any other day, he would have hopped in to help Wynne, or made a remark about how hunters didn’t really have parties, or told some bad joke at Kaden’s expense that no one but him would find funny. But not today. Today, Emilio was more of a shell than usual. And wasn’t that saying something?

A paper was put in front of him, and he signed it. There was no time to read it — it would have taken ages, anyway. Then, there was another paper, and Buzzy was looking at him. Emilio forced himself up to the surface enough to look back, to actually listen. This is important. His mother’s voice was a harsh echo in his mind. How can I expect you to learn when you don’t listen? When you can’t sit still, when you won’t pay attention? I expect better from you. He swallowed, setting his jaw in a hard line. Buzzy didn’t know him well enough to notice anything off about the expression. He wasn’t even sure if Wynne or Kaden did. Maybe there was no one left alive who knew Emilio with any kind of clarity.

The request was vague and fuzzy and not something Emilio would have said yes to in any other situation. He didn’t get into things with people like Buzzy without knowing exactly what he was signing up for. Any other day, he’d have told Buzzy to give him more information or fuck all the way off. But this was for Nora. This was to get Nora home safe. There was nothing Emilio wouldn’t do to achieve that goal. If it cost him his soul, that was fine. It wasn’t like he got much use out of it. “Fine,” he agreed, holding out a hand for the paper. “Whatever.”

—

They winced as Buzzy called their former commune a cult, even if they’d described it as one. “It’s just kind of like one. And it’s not close. It’s far from here.” Wynne said the lie with relative ease, as it felt like Moosehead was lightyears away, even if sometimes it felt like it was in their backyard. They felt around in their bag, took out a slip of printer paper. “Here is the copy of my birth certificate.” 

It was dizzying, what was transpiring before them. The man named Buzzy spoke to Kaden and Emilio about prizes, hardly paying them any mind. Wynne would prefer to also pay, but they also figured they weren’t very good at what it was Buzzy was asking for — shaking down a siren sounded like something they’d not be able to do convincingly. Or at all. They glanced nervously between the two hunters and the strange man and hoped they wouldn’t hold it against them. 

Emilio and Kaden both signed the contract without much thought and so they did too, following them and their expertise blindly. Wynne hadn’t signed many contracts before and so far most of them had done well for them, as they’d been for jobs and their former apartment. They didn’t fully understand their concept, though. As if signing your name was going to make you properly indebted to someone. For that you should ask demons for help, they figured. Not just a pen.

There was another one, signed by just Emilio. Their stomach felt tight. At least Emilio was part of this more than Kaden was, even if it seemed like he wasn’t going to get a passport. They swallowed and remembered what the slayer had told them. Their eyes were big and their voice a little meek. It didn’t require a whole lot of acting. “Are you sure you can’t get one for him too? He’s …” They glanced at Emilio, whose face was set. “Sorry.” He did not look sorry.

—

Kaden glanced over, watching Emilio as Buzzy pulled out the second contract. He couldn’t tell if the distant look he had was to keep himself from punching the guy sitting at the desk or if he was actually failing to pay attention. When Cortez realized it was his turn to sign his own paper, the ranger tensed, worried that the man was going to grab the thing and rip it in two. Not that he would blame him — Buzzy was a pain in the ass. 

A cackling pain in the ass, too. He threw his head back and chortled at Wynne’s remark. “Is that so, kid?” He had to contain more laughter. “That bastard ain’t sorry about nothing. Are ya?” he goaded. Kaden was ready to step in between the two men, worried that someone (Emilio) was about to lunge across the desk and strangle their forgery guy before he could get the passport needed. 

“Come on, Buzzy,” Kaden said, rolling his eyes. “You survived and you have him on the hook. At least consider it.”

The man sighed as he sorted his stack of newly signed contracts. “I’ll consider it.” There was a spark of hope that lit in Kaden’s chest, stupid as that was. “But it’ll take me a while to consider. And I’ll need that favor first. Then I start considering if I’ve changed my mind.” Right, should have remembered it was foolish to hope around these sorts of folks. 

“It’s fine. We just need the one for the kid right away. Right?” Kaden looked over to the other hunter, hoping he wouldn’t fucking argue. For once.

“And you’ve got it,” Buzzy said with a smug smile. “Come back in a day or two and I’ll have something for the kid and marching orders for yous twos.” Kaden knew he wasn’t going to enjoy whatever those fucking marching orders were but at least he didn’t have to do this shit alone this time. “See, was that so hard?”

—

Wynne was trying, that much was clear. And if Emilio were smarter or better, he’d try, too. He’d pretend to be something he wasn’t, he’d put on an apologetic mask. But there was no real point to it, was there? Buzzy made up his mind the moment they walked through the door. They were lucky he was helping Wynne — there was no way in hell he’d help Emilio. This would end the same way everything always did, and Emilio knew it. He wondered if explaining the situation more would help matters, if admitting that him not getting a passport could mean the difference between life and death for Wynne and Nora and Elias and maybe Regan, too, would change Buzzy’s mind. But, deep down, Emilio knew the answer. He always had. 

“I’m not sorry for doing my fucking job,” he ground out, doing his best not to take a swing at the guy standing in front of him now. “I’m sorry you don’t want to do yours.” It wasn’t the right thing to say, but was that a surprise? Emilio never said the right thing, never made the moves that needed making. He was a goddamn mess on his best days, and today was one of his worst. There was never any chance of him swallowing his anger well enough to grovel. Everyone in this room knew it. 

Maybe Buzzy would get him the passport someday, after he’d held it over Emilio’s head long enough to satisfy. But it would be too late then, and everyone in the room knew it. What was the point in getting a passport when he no longer needed one? Who did it serve? It wasn’t as if Emilio was the sort to take a vacation.

His jaw was tight as Kaden turned to look at him, blood rushing in his ears as the anger warmed his chest. Kaden needed him to agree, but he didn’t trust his voice. He nodded his head instead, curt and tense. 

It took everything he had not to take a swing at Buzzy. If they hadn’t been doing this for Nora, to help Nora, he probably would have. Even now, knowing the stakes, he felt like he was physically holding himself back to the point of aching muscles. The moment Buzzy agreed, Emilio turned on his heel, shoving by Kaden and moving a little more gently past Wynne towards the door.

—

Emilio didn’t look sorry, and even worse, he confirmed that he was not sorry. Wynne felt a rush of frustration that made them feel ashamed of even feeling it. They worked their jaw, averting their gaze from the three men in the room. They were afraid they’d cry if one of them looked at them wrong. Emilio not getting a passport was bad news, after all.

They remained quiet as the conversation fizzled out, save for their, “Appreciate it,” to Buzzy. It was accompanied with a respectful nod, even if they thought him a very bothersome man. Sometimes you had to deal with bothersome people to get what you wanted, that was something they knew by now. It was a frustrating and hard lesson to learn, but it was one that stuck.

And so they all went out, Kaden at the front and Wynne at the rear. They closed the door behind them with a softness that the others would probably not have afforded Buzzy. Their eyes moved between Kaden and Emilio now, big and still teetering on the edge of crying. “You could have —,” they began at Emilio, but they shook their head and left their sentence unfinished. Then, at Kaden: “Thank you. And … if I can ever do something for you to make it up to you …” They didn’t have a lot of skills. Maybe they’d just bake him some bread, they could do that. Kaden was good at cooking himself, they recalled, so maybe he’d appreciate that.

The trio moved down the street, back to where they’d met before the fiasco of a meeting. A strange feeling took hold of Wynne as they considered the strangeness of life and these two hunters, willing to do an ugly job on their behalf. Despite the strangeness, they decided they didn’t mind the feeling. 

[bountyhaunter]

TIMING: Early January PARTIES: Kaden @chasseurdeloup & Daiyu @bountyhaunter LOCATION: The woods SUMMARY: Two rangers are tracking the same creature ... which happens to be a werewolf made of snow! Time to team up if they can both manage. CONTENT WARNINGS: Gun use

There were plenty of reasons Kaden considered staying home instead of trekking out into the woods to hunt. Some moral dilemmas, sure, a little bit of laziness, but the one thing that almost kept him home was the weather. It was too damn cold out. 

He brushed the back of his gloved hand against what he assumed was his nose. It was hard to tell, it wasn’t like he could feel much either way. At least he could see the tracks easier thanks to the snow. Something was headed in the direction of downtown, had to be a canine of some sort based on the pawprints. Whatever it was, Kaden knew it needed to be stopped or at least redirected before it found a whole population full of people unprepared to deal with what was likely a monster. 

He followed for a bit, doing his best to be something close to quiet, lest he scare it off once he found the damn thing when he noticed a different set of tracks. Boot-shaped ones. He wasn’t alone out there. Putain de merde. He grumbled and picked up his pace to try and find the human before they found the monster. Seemed like the outcome would be better for everyone involved if he did. 

Once he saw a figure in the distance, he called out to them. “Hey,” he said, trotting towards them. “Slow down.” Might have been a terrible idea. He’d find out once he got closer. 

—

It seemed Daiyu had made a good decision, moving to Wicked’s Rest. She was no good at sitting still, after all, and it was hardly as if this place ever offered rest, despite what it’s name suggested. The bounties were boundless, and then there were more recent developments. Malicious snowmen and reindeer — her kind of Christmas spirit.

The creature she was tracking now wasn’t even one listed in The 3 Daggers. Was it from the goodness of her heart? Or for the mere thrill of it? Maybe she was just curious — for all the creatures she’d been raised to hunt, she had never encountered something quite like this. It was something of coincidence, really: she’d been trying to track something else to no avail and there they were: pawprints.

Weapon of choice today was the crossbow slung over her shoulder and she was concentrated, feeling a type of giddiness that made her push forward despite the cutting cold. She was pulled out of her rare focus by a human voice, though. Daiyu squinted at him through the snow, getting the gist of his words and considering speeding up. It’s what she would have done if this were one of her siblings, but then this might just some clueless human. She halted, waiting for him to catch up.

“Yo,” she said, once he was close enough for her not to raise her voice. She took stock of the other — well prepared for the woods at this time of year. Could be a hiker. Could be something more. “Hiking around, or what?” She looked at the falling snow. She shouldn’t hang around for too long, lest the tracks disappear. “What’s up?”

—

A crossbow. Right. Kaden had a sneaking suspicion that she wasn’t just your average hiker in the woods. Even though most of the average hikers in the town would benefit from carrying a weapon or two when they hit the trails, he didn’t expect that was the case here. Then again, he wasn’t exactly out there unprepared and he was sure she’d noticed as much. “Something like that,” he replied. Hunting, hiking, same thing. Of course.

His muscles tensed, unsure if they were preparing to flee or fight. Meeting another hunter in the woods used to be simple, welcome. Kaden wasn’t sure what it was now. He rolled his shoulders back and tried to relax. “What about you?” He raised a brow and nodded towards the weapon on her back. “Looks like you plan to do a little more than hike. Unless you’re just giving that crossbow some fresh air.” As much as he expected the answer to be something cagey that more or less indicated “hunting,” he wasn’t sure if he wanted that to be the answer. Sure, it was the obvious answer, but running into a hunter wasn’t as welcome a sight as it used to be. 

“Anything out here I should be on alert for?” he asked, trying to show his hand in a subtle way as he knew how. “Pretty used to running into all sorts of things out here. If you know what I mean.”

—

There was a certain level of secrecy expected from a hunter, Daiyu knew that. To shout on rooftops that you were actually someone who hunted people that shifted into snakes and other such creatures for a living didn’t often work out well. Either people thought you had a screw loose or you shot yourself in the foot by revealing something you shouldn’t have. She wasn’t very good at the secrecy bit, though, as she wasn’t good at lying.

She looked at the other – he was taller, built strong and determined enough to be out in the snow – and then considered her crossbow. “Yes, he loves fresh air, my crossbow, he’s just like us,” she said, and there was nothing in her tone suggesting she was serious. If they’d been in the woods, she could have at least made it sound like she was just a human hunter. Even in this kind of weather. Daiyu looked ahead, trying to keep an eye on the prints and kept walking lest she completely lost track.

The other was talking vaguely, which suggested he was either a vague person or trying to test her, trying to figure something out. She looked at him as she kept walking. “See those?” Her finger pointed towards some smudgy prints. “I’m following them.” She tried to gauge his reaction. “They’re … from a lost dog.” That would sound convincing to a regular human. “It has a biting problem.” She should have said she or he, not it — people didn’t talk about pets like it. She’d be offended if someone referred to Nugget as it, after all! “So a hike and a search. What about your … sort of hike?” 

—

Kaden raised his brow again as he glanced at the tracks in question. He leaned in to get a better look. They were from a canine-like creature, she wasn’t wrong there, but there was no way those prints belonged to any dog. Not even a saint bernard had paws that big. Nor did they walk bipedally. He locked eyes with her, looking for some confirmation that they were on the same page here. “Does it now?” he said, fairly certain she was in the know. “Sounds like a problem given how big it is. You know, based on those.” He gave a nod to the tracks. “Probably pretty dangerous. Probably not standard animal control work, either.” If that wasn’t enough to spell it out for her, he didn’t know how blunt he was going to have to be. 

“Sounds pretty similar to my hike. Though mine was less a hunt and more of a patrol.” Kaden reached for his shot gun and made sure it was loaded and ready to go. Probably stupid to keep flares in the shotgun and not have a real backup in case shit went sideways. Still, he couldn’t bring himself to load the silver rounds. “Seems the plans changed a little. Given those.” He followed along behind her, doing his best to keep his ears and eyes peeled for any signs of monsters. “Hope you’re not opposed to company.” Because it wasn’t an option as far as he was concerned. If this was a werewolf they were following (and he was pretty damn sure it was), Kaden wasn’t about to let another hunter loose to do what they pleased. He wasn’t sure how he was going to handle this but he sure as hell wasn’t letting anyone die on his watch, not if he could prevent it. 

They walked silently save for the snow crunching below their boots for a time when a howl cut through the forest. Anticipation and anxiety gripped Kaden the way it had so many times on a hunt. Only now it wasn’t excitement that fueled his adrenaline, but fear. Fear for the ultimate outcome. 

He didn’t wait for the other hunter to make the first move. Kaden took off running in the direction of the sound, hoping to get there before her. 

—

She wasn’t very good at beating around bushes or reading between the lines, which was exactly what this conversation was turning into. Daiyu continued stepping after the pawprints because that remained her primary goal. She wasn’t sure what she was going to do if she found the creature as she wasn’t sure what it was, but she knew she had to reach it. “There are very big dog breeds out there, almost like wolves so big,” she said. Of course, werewolves were even bigger than regular wolves were. “You’re welcome to help.” 

She looked up as he got his gun, eyebrows creasing. Definitely not a hiker. She reached for her crossbow, pulling it closer to her so it would be easier to reach. The competitive spirit within Daiyu was so easily triggered and she felt a suspicion run up her spine. But he’d called whatever he was doing a patrol, which was strange — but not something to linger on. The snow continued to fall. “Sometimes crea- animals do that, don’t they? Mess with your plans.” She gave a shake of her head, continued to move through the snow. “Nah, all good. The more the merrier, four eyes see more than two.” And a shotgun didn’t hurt. Maybe this could be good.

There was a howl and Daiyu was ready to clear her throat and discuss their next move, but before she could do so the other bolted away. She cursed and started running too, wondering if maybe there was a bounty on whatever she’d been tracking these past hours. The snow proved a challenge, but she had good boots and even if she was significantly shorter than the other she was able to keep up with him — mostly. He was a bit faster. He almost looked like Vissarion from this angle.

As the pair of them inched closer and closer to the sound of the howling, it became clear what they were after. Not a werewolf – not exactly. The creature was made of snow. “What,” Daiyu began, loading her crossbow with a silver arrow, “The fuck.” She whipped her head into the direction of the other suspected hunter. “Ever seen something like that before?”

—

Kaden slowed as a shape began to emerge of what he’d assumed was a werewolf just beyond the trees. Only it was white. Or maybe it had rolled around in the snow. No, that wasn’t snow clinging to fur, that was fur made of snow. “No, I sure fucking haven’t.” The other hunter seemed just as confused as he was but that hadn’t stopped her from prepping her weapon. He watched as the light reflected off the silver tipped arrow that she slotted expertly into the crossbow. Panic swelled in his chest as he tried to figure out how the hell he was going to keep her from killing the beast while keeping both of them alive. 

The only answer he had was to make the first move and try to knock it out first. So he steadied himself, pulled up the shotgun in his hand, exhaled as he aimed the barrel towards the creature, and fired.

Even though it wasn’t a bullet being launched from the firearm, the shot was hardly silent. It sang out, cutting through the quiet of the snow. The werewolf snapped to face the origin of the sound but Kaden hardly noticed the icy teeth it beared as it snarled. “Putain de merde.” All he could focus on was the hole right through the monster where the tranq dart should be. As if he’d shot a snowman. Only this was not a snowman. It was definitely alive. And angry. And headed towards them. But Kaden had a feeling his shotgun was a little useless right now. 

—

It was both relief and unfortunate that the other didn’t know what the creature was. A relief because Daiyu didn’t like to be the person who knew least in the room (or on the street, in this case). Unfortunate because that meant they both had no idea what to do about the creature. It looked and moved like a werewolf, but that was where the similarities seemed to end. Still, she figured their best bet was to treat it like a werewolf — she didn’t even want to think about what kind of monsters might spawn from this creature’s bite.

Before she could loosen an arrow, however, the other shot his shotgun. The thing was unsurprisingly loud and Daiyu whipped towards the taller hunter, “Are you an idiot?” Never mind that she went hunting with a rifle plenty of the time, that she liked loudness and had been chastised for this flaw aplenty. Today she was the one with the silent weapon and so she’d climb on the moral high horse. Her confidence was opportunistic like that.

She swapped her attention from the other hunter to the creature that was filled with expected rage. And also sporting a hole in its body. “Fuck,” Daiyu said, not seeing any blood pouring from the ‘wound’. She took aim, loosened her arrow and watched it flit through the air, and it slit right through the wolf’s skull. No crack of bone to be heard, its body continuing to head for them. So she started running, her fingers quickly tugging at the fabric of the other. “Right, okay, right — what the fuck, right?” No need to whisper any more, that was a perk. “You heard about the snowmen in town? Those weird fuckers?” She slung her crossbow strap over her shoulder as she kept running, trying not to slip. “This like this? Yeah right?”

—

Putain. Kaden was really hoping that silver arrow was going to have a different result than his tranq dart did. His stomach twisted when he realized that, had that been a typical werewolf, it would have been a shot through the head. If that were Alex, she’d be– 

Right. No time for that kind of shit. At the tug of his shirt, he turned and sprinted after her. “The snowman?” he said, trying to rack his brain for anything he heard about snowmen in town as of late. Sure there were a lot of them but he figured that was just what kids did. And there was a contest or something. Right? “Weird fuckers? What do you–” His mind jolted back to a conversation he had with someone the other day. “Someone mentioned an animatronic snowman or something. That it was following her home and moving on its own. I was wonder how the electronics worked in the wet sn–”

A string of curse words in various languages spilled from his mouth when he realized what was going on. He caught a glimpse of the monster chasing after them. It was fully made of snow and ice and there sure as hell weren’t electronics making it come to live. “Of course it’s fucking supernatural bullshit. It’s always supernatural bullshit in this town.” He should have known. “Any idea how we get rid of it?” As they ran, he spotted a run down park ranger’s station. It looked like it hadn’t been used in decades, as if this had once been part of the state park but it grew too dangerous to maintain. Either way, it was lucky for them. It would give them somewhere to try and get their shit together.

Kaden ran for the door and, unsurprisingly, it was locked, maybe jammed. Didn’t matter, he twisted the doorknob with all his strength, breaking the lock or whatever was keeping it shut, and yanked the door open. “Get in!” he shouted. They could barricade the broken door long enough to come up with their next move once they were both inside.

—

An animatronic snowman, that was kind of funny — Daiyu would have stopped in her tracks if they weren’t both being chased by a snow-werewolf. Instead she kept running, hoping very much that her boots would keep her from slip and sliding on the ice and becoming a snow-werewolf snack. “Yeah, something like that, I don’t fucking know — they’re sentient or something, like –”

She yelped, nearly slipping and falling on her ass but regaining her balance. Maybe all those obstacle course runs had been useful after all. She tried to pick apart the words the other was saying, picked up the English curse words and figured the other was experiencing the same level of confused stress she was. Cursing a bunch was a response she understood, so at least there was that they had in common. That, and them both being rangers, but that wasn’t always a good thing. “I mean, yeah! Plenty of supernatural bullshit here, it’s kinda fun! But also – fuck, right? Putoin!”

At least there was a safe haven ahead of them, because there was no way they could keep running. The trees around them were too slippery to climb in and there was no way either of their weapons would get the job done. Daiyu followed the taller hunter without asking what he was doing, ready to help kick down if necessary. Once the door burst open she darted in, kicking it shut once he was in as well. A small cabinet was dragged in front of the door (its lock now broken, hanging off its hinges) and she whipped around to take stock of the location.

Small, but solid. There was a small kitchenette. Chairs. Kind of the ideal place to be living, really, if you forgot about the snow-werewolf chasing them. Daiyu looked at the other. “Damn, that’s one way to meet a fellow hunter, right? I’m Daiyu — new to the town’s supernatural bullshit, but this is … something. Damn.” She heard scratches at the door, started moving around to search for anything. “I’ve dealt with icy creatures before, but what the fuck? Are you French? Sorry, not relevant.” She pulled open cabinets, not at all considering the fact that she might not have any right to. “Gotta find a way to undo whatever gave the snow that sentience.”

—

“Sentient fucking snowmen,” Kaden repeated once they were inside and the place was barricaded. “Putain de merde.” He sighed and gave the place a one over. There were worse places to get stuck in. “Never thought I’d say this but sometimes, I wish it were just a normal werewolf and not… whatever happens in this town.” While she was looking through the cabin, he was watching her, trying to assess if she would be a problem later, how much he’d have to watch his back. It used to be easy meeting new hunters. Now it was potentially dangerous. “Kaden,” he replied before starting to take stock of the place himself. “And yeah, I’m French.” He hated how much he appreciated that she didn’t call him Canadian. It was annoying. He didn’t want to like her or get buddy-buddy with her. She was a ranger. It was too dangerous. “I’ve been here about a year. I still can’t always figure what the hell is going on in this town. But you sort of get used to it.” Out of habit, his hand slipped into his pocket and reached for his lighter, flipping the lid open and closed. 

Wait. A lighter.

Kaden grabbed it out of his pocket and held it up. “No clue what it is but I do know that snow melts. Not to mention, I haven’t come across too many things that don’t die when you light them on fire.” Honestly it was impressive that he hadn’t even been charged with arson ever. He heard a slam against the door along with the snarling and growling on the other side of it. How the hell could snow hit that hard? Could it even bite them if it was made of snow and ice?

Right. He didn’t want to find out. “Don’t think this little thing is going to cut it. Look around, see if there’s anything we can use.” 

—

Her mind was going a mile a minute, if not faster and Daiyu’s mind started filling itself with questions. She wanted to ask why she’d never seen him at the 3 daggers, if he could teach her how to curse in French (and what putoin meant), and some things related to the problem outside their door, too. “What do you reckon can make snow sentient? Magic? Don’t know much about that shit, maybe it’s fae but …” She shrugged. “What does that mean, the thing you just said?”

Kaden, she made a mental note of that. Daiyu wasn’t very good at remembering other people’s names but she’d try. Besides, she hadn’t gotten stuck in a cabin after being chased by a snow werewolf with anyone before, so maybe she’d remember this time. “I think it’s kinda fun here, you know? Always something going on. Keeps me active. And the woods here are great, and there’s a beach.” She grinned. “Perfect town for me. That is, as long as that snow werewolf doesn’t get me, ha!” Laughing in the face of danger was easy. 

It was clear that Kaden had a better attention span, though, and as he mentioned the fact that fire would make a good solution Daiyu felt like he’d turned on a lightbulb. “Right on,” she said, continuing to open cabinets with a more clear motive. Most of the wood was moist, which was unfortunate. It’d be hard to light a fire here anyway, though, especially with just a lighter. They needed gas, lighter fluid, lamp oil or —

Whiskey. For once, she was glad that many people enjoyed to drink and she snatched the near-full bottle of scotch from the cabinet under the sink. “Voilá!” She got up, placed it on the counter and ripped the little curtain above the window from its rod. It was easy to get the hunting knife strapped to her leg and cut off a strip, to douse said strip in some of the whiskey and stuff it in. She turned around with the fiery cocktail in her hand, a triumphant smile on her face. “That should do the trick.” She looked from the lighter to the cocktail and held out her free hand. “May I do the honors?”

—

“Huh?” It took Kaden a second to figure out what she meant. She obviously wasn’t asking what he meant by sentient snowman. What had he just said? Right. French curse words. They left his lips like second nature at this point and half the time, he hadn’t realized he’d said them. “Putain de merde,” he repeated, “it’s something like ‘fucking shit’ in English. More or less. Not directly of course but same sort of feel.”

He wished he felt half the enthusiasm for the weird shit going on in Wicked’s Rest that she boasted. Not that he came to town expecting a normal life by any stretch of the imagination, but it was certainly more than he could have prepared for and some days he was just tired. One day without goo or skyquakes or screaming moose, was that too much to ask? “Glad someone likes the challenge, I guess.” Kaden sighed and tried to ignore how weary his bones felt already and they weren’t even through taking care of the snow monster clawing at the door. He hated to think he was old at thirty-three but, for a hunter, it wasn’t young. He knew better than to think otherwise.

Daiyu on the other hand didn’t seem quite as worn down, she still had energy about her. Honestly, she reminded him of Kiera. The thought was like a punch to the gut, one he couldn’t sort into any category of good or bad or what. The last thing he needed in town was someone like his little sister considering how things had ended the last time he’d seen her. And he didn’t want to fall into the trap that maybe things could be different. Not yet. He would keep that thought from nipping at his heels for now. 

“Good find,” he said, eying the bottle of liquor in her hands. He was tempted to check if it was anything good but he thought better of it. If it was something decent, better not to know. It was being sacrificed either way. Kaden couldn’t help but offer a small smile as he handed over the lighter. The familiarity of it all, the camaraderie, it was hard not to get swept up in it at least a little. “All yours. Say the word and I’ll pull the door open.” He pushed the cabinet to the side and braced himself against the door, waiting for her cue to let go. 

—

She mouthed the words without actually saying them out loud, as if test driving them. Daiyu liked collecting new curse words, and though she wasn’t going to be learning French, she’d love to shout some expletives in it. “Awesome. Putain du merde.” It didn’t quite roll of her tongue, but it was good enough, she figured. It wasn’t very high on her list of priorities right now, anyway, but it was always good to keep learning. 

Wicked’s Rest was a good place for her, she thought. There were constant stimuli, a thrill of danger around every corner and plenty of activity for her to partake in. Daiyu was no good at standing still, after all — and though her bounties kept her busy, she couldn’t let everything revolve around the hunt. There were the mysteries and theories, the quirky shops and then of course her goal to get Twilight on the silver screen once more. “Someone’s gotta, right? Can’t sit still in a world this crazy.” Sometimes she did and something dragged her down. Something she’d call depression if she knew any better, if she allowed herself that far. But she didn’t.

No, Daiyu was more explosive than that. Imploding wasn’t her type of beat. So she took the lighter from Kaden, glad that he didn’t take the honors from her. Aside from him getting the first shot in, this entire ordeal had transpired without her growing competitive with a stranger. The smell of whiskey burned in her nose and she would be glad to get rid of the scent. “Alright.” Her lips were spread into a grin still and she steeled herself, feet planted solidly into the ground. 

The lighter’s flame licked at the bit of curtain once she’d ignited it and it caught. “Now!” The other ranger swung the door open as he’d said and Daiyu’s gaze met that of the snow-wolf. She threw the Molotov cocktail in its direction and it split right in his face as it charged, the crunch of glass followed by licking flames. She dropped her now empty hand, watched as the flames didn’t quite catch on anything but seemed to melt the wolf’s face, seemed to slow it in its path as little sparks of fire landed on the rest of its body and melted deeper into it. It stumbled, crashed, spread into splashes of water. She was staring at it like it was something marvelous, eyes wide and her mouth slightly agape. Then, she realized how the flames continued on, searching for more something to take hold of, and she whipped her head to Kaden. “You wanna get out of here?” She forgot that putting out the fire was an option.

—

Kaden yanked the door open and hoped for the best, wincing in anticipation. The glass shattered, the liquid splattered, and the flames exploded around all of it, consuming everything in its path. Including the werewolf made of snow. Its icy fangs melted away and so did its ears, fur, hackles raised until the very end, and finally its jagged claws. It was almost too easy. Kaden hesitated, looking for the other shoe that was sure to drop, but the beast didn’t spring back to life. 

The flames, on the other hand, weren’t quite finished. “Merde,” he grumbled as he helped push Daiyu out the door, following close behind. Running seemed like a good idea. Again. Once they were a ways out from the burning building, Kaden dared to take a look back. He was sure the snow would dampen some of the fire, keep some of the spread contained, but probably not before it did some serious damage. As much as he wanted to leave the scene, let it be someone else’s problem, I was never good at walking away even when he should. The ranger considered calling in an anonymous tip, keep his record clean, but his stupid morals wouldn’t let him get away with that, either. With a sigh, Kaden pulled out his radio. “Officer Langley calling in an 11-71 in the eastern part of the woods,” he said into the radio, giving the GPS location of where they were as best as possible. “Leaving premise to continue tracking dangerous animal. Won’t be here here when team arrives, over.” 

He hoped that would be enough for dispatch to do their jobs and take care of it. He made sure the volume on his radio was turned all the way down, planning to ignore anything that came up. He’d blame bad signal later. Hell, he wasn’t even on duty at the moment so they’re lucky he had it with him in the first place. Sure, it made tracking down any potential monsters in the area a lot easier when he could listen in on the strange calls the WRPD got even when he wasn’t working, but that was besides the point. 

Kaden glanced back at Daiyu, wondering if he’d mentioned he was Animal Control prior to that moment. Couldn’t remember. He’d already forgotten his excuse to be out there. “Don’t worry, not going to mention you were here. Doesn’t really seem helpful,” he assured her. Just in case. 

— 

Out of the parker station, Daiyu kept looking at the flames with a quiet contentment. It was possible that she looked more enraptured, with her eyes eagerly staring at the warm yellow tongues licking at the little house, but to her there was something quite serene about this. A job well done, together with a fellow ranger! No body part to cut off so she could collect. It felt a little like hunting with her uncle had, back when she’d still been a kid hunkering for positive interaction. Maybe that was why she felt satisfied: not just because the snowwolf had been taken care of, but because she’d collaborated.

Kaden busied himself with calling it in, referring to himself as officer Langley, which made her raise a brow and look at him. It was probably for the best that someone was alerted about the fire, even if the wood surrounding them was moist and not easily set alight and she was glad that he had such connections (and the mind to think of reaching out to them). Still, what did that make the other ranger? She knew some of them took day jobs, ones that made the hunting a little easier — Daiyu had never been very interested in that herself, though. She was self aware enough to know that she wasn’t made to work for an employer.

“Are you a cop?” The question was asked with ease, “And cool, that’d have been real shitty, though I guess arson is one of the better crimes to go down for.” She glanced at the flames again. Fire was pretty, it was really that simple. “Do you reckon that whoever you just called is gonna find something though, among all that melted stuff?” The creature had been alive – it had struggled to keep moving as its head melted. There was something afoot.“Eh. I mean, it’s gonna be spring soon enough anyway. Maybe a problem for next season. Unless you think it’s something?” 

She adjusted the strap of her crossbow, raised a hand in an attempt to do a high-five. Something she’d tried when she was a kid, something her brother had indulged her in when they’d been younger. “Nice work, anyway.”

—

Kaden supposed it was good that she wasn’t too nervous about the fact that he’d just called in on a police radio stating he was an officer. “I am, yeah. I’m with Animal Control, though. If it wasn’t for all the paperwork and other bullshit, I’d forget I was one most days.” Considering the other WRPD officers in town forgot that, too, it was easier to separate himself from the force. The fact that his desk was at the animal shelter and not the station only drove the wedge in deeper. “Not a bad setup, though. A ranger working in animal control, especially in this town. I stay busy, that’s for sure.”

His brow furrowed at her comments and the way she was looking at the fire. “Or you could try avoiding going down for any crime. How about that?” Why did he get the feeling he was going to end up forging paperwork for her or springing her from jail at some point? Right, the look in her eyes as the flames danced in their reflection. That’s why he had that sneaking suspicion. “Anyway, not sure they’ll find much considering that thing melted into a puddle and the fire is probably going to burn away any signs we were there. Given the molotov cocktail, I’d guess they write it off as some rowdy kids in the woods. That’s the excuse the station uses for most things they can’t explain. Kids or rabid dogs.” Kaden huffed out a laugh. He knew some of them had to know better, but he could only imagine the kind of delusion some of the people in this town lived in day in and day out. 

With his shotgun back in place and everything mostly settled, Kaden turned and was about to head back when he saw her hand raised up to around her shoulder, palm facing him. He blinked and had to process what in the hell she was waiting for at first. Definitely wasn’t waving hello so he hoped he was correct in giving her a high-five in return. “Not so bad yourself,” he said with a hint of a smile. Slipping back into his old shoes felt strange. They fit still, well worn and familiar, but it was like he’d noticed the hole wearing through the soles by now. It was hard to reconcile, hard to admit he should just throw them away after so many years. Some part of him wanted to believe he could patch them up, make them better, and moments like this only supported that notion even though he knew better. 

—

She let out an, “Ahhhh,” of understanding, even if she didn’t fully follow. Daiyu hadn’t known Animal Control was also cops, but she didn’t want to say that. “Paperwork sounds like ass.” That it did. There was little to be done when it came to bounties: that was all done under the table, with no filing to be done. “I can imagine that, yeah. Get a bunch of calls about a rabid dog and it’s probably a beast of some sorts, right?” She had met a ranger once who used to scan police radios to get tips. 

She let out a laugh. “Yup! That’s always the goal indeed,” she said, adding a layer of solemnity to her tone. Daiyu didn’t want to get into trouble, contrary to popular belief. It was just that her interests didn’t often align with people’s expectations of ‘good behavior’ or what the law happened to be. “Cool. Kinda nice that it melts when it dies.” If there had been a bounty that would have proved troublesome, but this time Daiyu hadn’t been motivated by monetary gain. It was refreshing and she didn’t want to enjoy it too much. There were some implications there she was better off ignoring.

But at least he met her high five with one of his own. If that had gone unanswered, it would be the worst thing — not those implications, nor the fact that they had burned down a ranger’s station. She grinned at the taller hunter when their hands smacked. “Awesome.” Daiyu wondered for a moment what happened now. They were in the middle of the woods and there were presumably more things to hunt should they want to continue this. But she felt conflicted, felt like something good had happened — and she didn’t want to ruin it just yet. 

“I’m gonna go track down my car. Gotta get home to my dog,” she said, and it wasn’t a complete lie. She looked at the burning station over her shoulder, then thumbed at the direction she was heading to. “But I’ll see you around, yeah? Maybe we can do this again sometime.” And she felt she meant it when she said it, despite the fact that she’d made something solitary of hunting over the past years. Sometimes collaboration wasn’t so bad.

[letsbenditlikebennett]

TIMING: After this PARTIES: @chasseurdeloup @kadavernagh @magmahearts & @letsbenditlikebennett LOCATION: Office of the Medical Examiner SUMMARY: After Rhett attacks Cass and leaves her in a bad state, Alex gets her out of the woods and calls Kaden for a ride to the morgue as soon as she has cell reception. Or Regan, again, receives unexpected live patients at the morgue and Marcy needs a raise.

The time between when she hung up the phone with Kaden and when he actually arrived had felt like an eternity. Alex was certain that the warden wouldn't be moving again, at least for a little while, but the blood that clung to her wasn't just Rhett's. As if instinctively, it she gripped onto Cass tighter, desperately trying to keep them both upright until her cousin got there which was a far too grim reminder that too much of the blood that caked her skin was Cass's. She had to actively fight the sick feeling growing in her stomach. Even on a good day, she wasn't good with blood and now she was covered in it. Not even the spare giant t-shirt that went down to her knees was safe from it as her girlfriend continued to bleed and Alex tried to try pressure to the myriad of different wounds that covered the oread. 

“I just need you to stay with me a little longer, ok,” Alex practically pleaded though she tried to give her a voice a reassuring tone. She wasn't sure how much it covered up her own fear. She doubted it did at all. “Kaden'll be here any minute, it's going to be okay.”

She wasn't sure who she was reassuring, but when she saw headlights coming up the road and the familiar sound of Kaden's engine. Alex had never been so relieved to hear him approaching. She was pretty sure she could actually cry, but she wouldn't. Cass was hurt and she needed to be brave for Cass. Or at least try. 

When the car rolled to a stop, she waited for Kaden to rush to her side. “Thank you,” she huffed, “She's heavier than she looks... rock and all. I think I've been applying pressure to the worst of it. I can sit in the back with her on the way to the morgue.”

She had her suspicions about Regan being a nymph herself, but they were just that. Suspicions. Alex had no actual clue if the medical examiner would be able to work with... well, a girl made of rocks. “Dr. Kavanagh should be able to help her, right?“ Regan had to be able to help her because the alternative was too difficult to stomach. 

—

The keys were in Kaden’s hand and he was hopping into his truck before he’d even hung up with Alex. He didn’t know exactly what was going on, just that it was an emergency, in the woods, hurt. Cass. He considered using the work truck and flipping on the lights to get there even faster but he figured, whatever it was that had actually happened, he would want the space of his normal truck. He dared someone to pull him over on the way there. He’d run them over.

He saw their small figures across the way long before he was close enough to stop the car. It was hard to resist the temptation to throw it in park and sprint to them the second his eyes were on Alex and her girlfriend but he managed and pulled up as close as he possibly could, tires skidding into place.

“Putain,” he said, throwing himself out of the car. His eyes swept over Alex, trying to assess her wounds. She was roughed up but alright. His eyes fell over Cass and it was clear that she was far from okay. “Alex what the hell happened to her?” He knew she mentioned a hunter but he hadn’t assumed Cass was this injured. Crouching down beside her, it was hard to believe this was the same kid who had no trouble facing off with a pinball whirling towards her. She was beaten down, broken. The sparks of life she was filled to the brim with before were fading away. 

Kaden nodded at Alex’s words and reached under the nymph to carefully scoop her up. He didn’t have any plan on how to help her but he knew they had to do something. Fast. First step was to get her into the truck and away from here. 

Kavanagh? His brow furrowed at the mention of the medical examiner. Made sense. Was as good a plan as any. “Maybe. I think so.” He couldn’t think about anything beyond the immediate. “Fae. She knows about fae. And she’s a doctor.” He wasn’t sure if he was telling Alex or reminding himself. “We’ll get her there. Keep pressure and support her while I lift her. On three.” 

—

There was no room to do anything but push forward. It brought a certain sense of clarity with it. There wasn't room for panic or acknowledging the multitude of sensations that would make Alex sick to her stomach under less dire circumstances. If her head had been more clear maybe she would have thought of the miracle that was adrenaline, but all she could think of was making sure Cass was okay. So when she answered Kaden, the weight of her answer didn't fully register. 

“A warden... We met him before but didn't know he was— I heard her scream when I was hiking toward the cave and he had already grabbed her. He was going to kill her so I stopped him,” Alex said flatly, ”If he didn't bleed out already, he knows what I am.“ Whether or not Rhett was dead wasn't something she could think about when Cass was barely hanging on. Hell, she was barely hanging on in the strength department which became harder to ignore when Kaden lifted Cass into the truck and she realized her own legs were shaking.  

The weight Kaden lifted was more than a physical one as Alex felt some hint of relief once Cass was being lifted into the truck. Her left arm carefully kept the oread's neck upright as the other hand kept pressure against the wound on her shoulder. She was quick to follow into the truck once they got Cass inside; she knew she'd have to keep applying pressure to the wound in Cass's shoulder which looked so much worse than it ought to, even for an iron blade. Her already blood-caked hand found the wound and pressed down on it. ”I think she is fae,“ she added, ”But that's... She can help. She'll be able to make sure Cass is okay.“ 

There was an unspoken desperation in her words. Alex wasn't sure if that was part of what pushed Kaden to drive at such a rapid pace, but she found she didn't care even if the way the trees whipped by them was dizzying. ”It's going to be okay,“ she reassured quietly as she looked down at Cass. She wasn't sure entirely who she was trying to convince, but Cass being okay felt like the only option. ”I've got you,“ she whispered. She'd promise as much if Cass would let her. 

Trees kept zipping by through the window as Alex remained still as could be. She was afraid to move, to shift Cass in a way that might make things worse, but the stillness of it all let the events catch up to her a bit. ”We'll need to go back and check that he's,“ she trailed off, unable to fully let herself acknowledge that she very well may have killed Rhett— or worse, that some small part of her hoped he was dead.

—

A warden. Knew what Alex was. Nearly killed Cass. Was probably bleeding out. Kaden tried to process the information but there was too much happening all at once. He had to focus on the task at hand: save the nymph in the back of the truck. The rest he would file away for later, figure it out then. Like if there was a dead body they had to worry about. And if they should inform the medical examiner during this visit. 

None of that mattered as much as driving as fast and as carefully as he could directly to the morgue. As soon as he closed the door on Alex, he rushed to the driver’s seat and tore out of there and back onto the road. Hopefully he wasn’t bringing Regan another dead body. A pit dropped in his stomach at the thought. No. His grip tightened on the wheel. He wasn’t going to let that happen.

“Worry about that later,” he said to her, eyes pinned forward, not even allowing himself to look back at her through the rearview mirror. If he looked back, he’d lose focus, start worrying about what else they could do. He had to stay single minded, focus on the mission. It wasn’t a hunt but for once his training might save someone instead of hurting them. 

Kaden wove his truck through traffic, barely stopped at any signs or lights, and raced through town to get them to the morgue. He didn’t bother finding a spot, instead throwing the truck into park right along the curb outside the glass doors. It briefly occurred to him that it would be hard enough to explain why they were carrying someone alive into the morgue to see the medical examiner and even harder to explain what Cass was to the front desk. Putain de merde. 

He hadn’t come up with any sort of plan or anything at all by the time he was helping pull the fae out of the truck. “I’ve got her,” he told Alex. “Get the door, call for Regan. Maybe, I don’t know, tell the front desk to leave.” He winced once the full weight of Cass’s rock covered body was in his arms. It was strange that someone so small and who looked so fragile just then could be so heavy. It wouldn’t slow him down, he wouldn’t falter, he wouldn’t let himself. 

—

It was a small kindness that Kaden was willing to talk about the warden aspect of things later. Alex wasn’t sure she could rely on herself to really recount the details when Cass felt so cold in her arms. The blood was pooling in the hands that were desperately pressing down on the wound in her shoulder. It took a concentrated effort to keep her hands from shaking, surprisingly not because of the slick feeling of blood against her skin, but because she was terrified. Even when that ranger had a gun pointed in her direction, she couldn’t remember feeling this frightened. Cass was too quiet in her arms, her features too pained and contorted. All she could think of was how much the oread meant to her and the fact it felt like she was slipping away right there in her arms. 

The fact Kaden hadn’t bothered with parking etiquette was more than a relief to Alex. Every second between them and getting Cass proper help felt like an eternity. The truck was practically pulled up to the glass doors and Kaden was carefully extracting Cass from the truck. She hopped out following and nodded diligently as Kaden spoke. “Ok,” she answered, “I’ll get Marcy… to not be there. And get Dr. Kavanagh. Just… I’ll be quick.” Her eyes fell to Cass, “Hang in there, okay?” 

She wasn’t sure the oread could hear her so Alex simply ran off and into the fluorescent lighting of the morgue. She remembered Marcy from before and she seemed to be typing away on her computer. What was the best way to ensure Marcy didn’t follow Regan back to her desk? “Hi, Marcy,” she greeted more frantically than she would have liked, “I need to see Dr. Kavanagh… it’s important medical examiner business. Tell her it’s Alex Bennett. I… uh I have Animal Control Officer Langley outside, too. You should probably… I think you look like you totally deserve to take your lunch break like right after grabbing Dr. Kavanagh.” 

—

“Fiddlesticks, fudge, no, figh can’t be right…” Marcy glanced up from her phone as the doors opened and… oh, this had Dr. Kavanagh all over it. She remembered Alex Bennett, one of the doc’s oddball visitors, and apparently she brought company. Another person. No, wait, two other – oh. Oh, fiddlesticks. This seemed urgent enough to call the doctor instead of shooting her a text. She did so immediately. “Regan, we have a code ‘what the fuck’ up here.” Marcy looked nervously at the three mostly-strangers who had interrupted her game of Connections (today’s theme of f-expletives seemed appropriate, suddenly), her eyes wide with confusion and perhaps some degree of understanding. Her fingers danced across the tabletop and finally Regan picked up. 

“Can this wait?” the doctor asked, sounding exasperated, “I’m in the middle of a–” 

Marcy cut her off. “Please don’t tell me what body part your hand is in. This is, like, really ‘what the fuck’. Come now, okay?” 

Regan simply hung up, and Marcy stared blankly at Alex, trying not to look at the company she’d walked in with. Marcy usually lived for gossip (and both Regan and Morty were the perfect fodder) but this was something else. Regan couldn’t come fast enough.

The last time they’d had a code ‘what the fuck,’ it had been because a horde of crabs came scuttling in and nearly carried Marcy away with them. The crabs seemed to be gone, but Regan reasonably expected something else quite serious. She rushed out and up, barreling through the doors. Oh, how she wished it were crabs.

Kaden. Alex. Some lump in his arms. This cinniúint-amú family. Treating her morgue like a – She halted, midstep, feeling the presence of something, someone else. The lump was more than a lump. More than human, even. Regan raced to get closer, immediately setting her hands on the fae’s strange skin (was it part of what was wrong?). A girl, barely more than a child. Unconscious, or near it. 

Regan’s first instinct was to shout, break some lights, remind Kaden that this was not the emergency department and serious injuries needed to be attended to elsewhere. But the injured being fae changed the equation significantly. She could not go to a hospital, and especially not looking like this. And where better was there, really? Before Regan had arrived in Saol Eile, they had relied upon inexperienced hands and anecdotes reeking of homeopathy. Regan understood the lack of options. She just didn’t like it. “Langley. Why are you always involved in these things?” She narrowed her eyes at Kaden, who was too easy to blame, but really, Alex had been equally involved in her own injury and possibly what was happening right now. Kaden was older, though, and his shoulders were adequately-muscled for carrying blame.

Right now she needed him to carry their injured. “Hurry it up,” she said, carding the doors open and pointing; Kaden probably remembered where her office was, but they might need the space and tools the autopsy suite would afford them today. What a screaming mess this was. She wasn’t even sure the two of them knew the girl was fae. Regan waved a curt but grateful goodbye to Marcy, who needed no instruction on what to do next (stall Rickers). “Continue past my office and into the autopsy room. Give me as much medical history as you have and tell me what happened. And tell me what’s wrong with her skin.” Regan paused, feeling confident in her words, which seemed worth delivering. “She will not die here.”

In the autopsy suite, she did not waste a second. There were rarely emergencies here; the dead did not mind waiting for their procedures. But now she was filled with an energy and urgency she hadn’t felt in a long time. “On the table. Now.” There was a decedent lying on the adjacent autopsy table. Regan had just managed to stuff his organs back into him and stitch him up, but he needed to be put back in the fridge. She did not like the idea of anyone else touching her patients. She was even stingy when it came to Rickers and the techs. But… her eyes flicked between the dead and the living, and with a defeated sigh, she then looked over at Kaden. “He goes in 8F. If you drop him I will place you in there instead.” She turned to the girl, pulled open her eyelids. The pupils responded automatically to the harsh overhead light. Good. “Round, equal, and reactive.”

Her skin was hard, craggy like stone, and it defied anything Regan had ever seen before. Had the circumstances been different, she could have spent hours looking at it under a microscope and her scalpel. But the circumstances were what they were, and what could have been exciting and full of wonder was currently a hindrance, obscuring what she needed to see. She decided to take a gamble with their knowledge. “You need to get her to glamour.” Regan said, meeting Alex’s eyes with a deadly serious intensity. “She may not be able to hold it in place, but she must, even if it’s only around her injuries. I cannot see what’s going on under this… material. And would not know how to treat it like this.” There was one thing she could see plainly, though: a deep, smoking wound across her left shoulder, like a flaming blade had been plunged through muscle. It was open, exposing something underneath that glowed with orange, pulsing energy, but no blood. “I believe this is from cold iron. Quickly. If you cannot wake her, I can, but it will hurt.”

—

Kaden didn’t know Cass as well as he’d like but he knew enough. He knew was going to do every goddamn thing he could to keep her alive. He knew he was going to find that warden and— He didn’t know what came after that. Because first thing was carrying Cass into the morgue and forgetting that this building housed dead bodies. She wasn’t going to be one of them. “I’ve got you,” he said as his arms cradled her rock covered body. The edges and rough surface dug and pinched into his skin, likely leaving marks and bruises. If there was pain, he didn’t notice, just held on tighter. “Stay with me. Alex is inside.” His words came out like gasps and he couldn’t be sure if that was due to the adrenaline coursing through his veins or the fact that she was heavy in his arms. He was shuffling to the door as fast as he could, very aware of the fact that with Alex going ahead, no one was able to put pressure on the wounds. “Magma’s not going to go down like this, alright?” 

If there was anyone working the front desk, Kaden didn’t notice her. His eyes were searching for one person and one person only. He was already headed directly to her office when his eyes locked on hers, a tiny flick of hope lighting up in him. Apparently she wasn’t as thankful to see him. Right now, he didn’t give a shit if she wanted him there or not, she was going to help with the kid. “You can scream at me later, Kavanagh. Help her.” He barely had to pause as the doors slid open. Relief was a second away when she said to go to the autopsy suite instead. His head shot around to face her, his brows knit together and worry written across his face. She will not die here. He didn’t know if that was a wish or a fact, but Regan’s tone seemed to write it in stone. He was going to cling to them as tightly as he held Cass. 

Once they were inside the suite, Kaden did his best to set her down gently on the table, but it was difficult to rest rock on metal without any clashing. He winced at the sounds, hoping he hadn’t made anything worse, silently apologizing to her as he laid her down. Kaden backed away and thought that, for the time being, the extent of his ability to help was spent. He was shocked to hear that wasn’t the case. His eyes fell on the dead body next to Cass, sutures laced all the way down from his chest. He wasn’t a stranger to dead bodies, but he never saw them like this. His stomach churned and he could feel bile churning up to his throat. “He goes in… 8F?” he repeated, hoping that it might buy him the time to steady himself as he went pale. 

Putain de merde. This was stupid, he had dealt with much worse, scenes that were far more gruesome and had caused worse than that. In here, in this setting, surrounded by the cold and sterile medical supplies, it felt completely different. He took a deep breath before he nodded, grit his teeth, and decided to rip off the metaphorical band aid. Just pretend they’re alive, he thought as he rolled the body towards the right drawer. Fucking hell, he was putting a body in a drawer. Right. Easier said than done. Just had to make sure he didn’t vomit or pass out in the process. 

—

She will not die here.

There was no way those words could be spoken with absolute certainty, but Alex clung onto them like they were a liferaft. Her mind sunk its claws into them as if they were some tangible string she could tangle and keep in her grip. The alternative wasn’t something she could consider. The alternative terrified her. 

Though a small part of her felt guilty that Regan seemed to think Kaden was somehow involved in what happened to Cass or could have been the cause. Alex shook her head. “It’s not Kaden’s fault,” she explained, “I couldn’t carry her all the way– I needed a ride.” Given the bone nymph was straight on to business, which wasn’t at all surprising, she stopped herself from overexplaining because the truth of it was simple, wasn’t it? No matter how good Cass was, no matter how many people she helped during her patrols as Magma, there would always be a warden out there like Rhett who didn’t care and wanted her dead anyway. 

“This is my girlfriend, Cass,” Alex explained, looking at the oread in Kaden’s arms somewhat helplessly, “I was meeting her for a picnic and I found her being attacked by a warden. She probably… we met him before but didn’t know he was a warden. She probably…” The words caught in her throat. “He didn’t follow us, I promise,” she quickly added, hoping it answered enough that Regan and let her know there wasn’t an immediate threat following. 

Whatever Dr. Kavanagh asked of her, Alex would do it happily. Already, the medical examiner was taking control of the situation in a way that seemed practiced. It probably was practiced. Even if most of Regan’s patients were already dead, she was still a medical doctor. Emergency training was part of the education and well, Regan also seemed inclined to let the stray non-dead patient into her morgue too. If she wasn’t so damn scared that her girlfriend was about to be knocking death’s door, she may have watched Regan work with more admiration. As it was, she was quick to follow instructions. Any directive the doctor gave her was meant to help Cass, so aptly paid attention and followed into the autopsy room. 

The dead body on the table next to Cass hadn’t even fully registered until Regan was directing Kaden to put it in… a drawer. Alex knew how morgues worked in theory, but the normally unsettling idea was completely overlooked as she carefully looked over Cass. Regan mentioned a glamour and it made Alex positive that coming to the bone nymph was the right call… even if the doctor wouldn’t call herself a bone nymph. There was a weight in Regan’s gaze that made Alex immediately nod dutifully. 

“I’ll do what I can,” Alex agreed, “I don’t… she’s already in enough pain.” 

Her attention shifted to Cass and Alex leaned closer to the table as she looked the oread over. Neither arm looked too good, so she wasn’t sure hand was the right way to get Cass’s attention. Instead, her hand found Cass’s cheek and softly cupped it in her hand. “Cass,” she breathed out. No, she had to speak up. Her voice couldn’t be as small and scared as she felt. “Cass,” she spoke louder, “Babe, I need you to concentrate for a little while. I know it hurts… but we have help, ok? Dr. Kavanagh just needs you to put up your glamour, at least around your injuries so she can start taking care of them.” 

Cass stirred under her touch and Alex let out a breath she hadn’t realized she held in. “You can hold my hand as tight as you need, if it helps,” she added, “But you got this, ok? You’re like the bravest and strongest person I know… if anyone can throw on the ‘ol razzle dazzle in a time like this, it’s you. I think… focus on getting it on for your shoulder first?” She gave Regan an inquisitive look, hoping that she gave the right directive there. 

—

There were flashes, after the woods. She remembered walking with Alex, her feet so much heavier than they usually felt. Alex’s voice, talking first to her and then to someone else, their responses tinny and far away as they came through the speaker of a phone. Then Kaden was there, too, in the blink-of-an-eye kind of way that meant she was definitely losing time. Another blink, and she was laying across Alex’s lap in the backseat of an unfamiliar car. Another, and they were somewhere else. She heard Alex and Kaden talking, but she couldn’t track the conversation. Alex vanished for a moment, and Cass let out a low whine, feeling more like a child than she had in such a long time.

Another flash. Someone was holding her. They were moving, and she felt the vibrations but they were stilted, dull. Everything was, the world narrowed to the pain in her shoulder where Rhett’s knife had gone in. That hurt more than the broken arm, and there was something almost funny about that, wasn’t there? You’d think the broken thing would hurt more. You’d think. 

Kaden said something to her, and it took longer than it should have for it to register. Called her Magma, and she let out a quiet sound that was almost a laugh. Had she told him? She didn’t remember. Maybe he’d known all the while, the whole time. Or maybe she was Magma not Cass to him at the moment. Did Spider-Man have this problem? She swore she knew, but she couldn’t remember.

Another flash, and there was something solid under her back. It was cold; everything was cold. There was a flutter in her gut that was familiar, but felt as far away as the rest of it. Another fae? For a moment, some childish, outlandish part of her wondered if it was her father or someone from that long-forgotten aos si in Hawai’i. If one of them cared enough, somehow, to know she was in trouble and just… appear. But when her eyes were forced open and a flash of light shone into them, she caught a glimpse of white hair and pale skin that couldn’t belong to anyone with family ties with her. Her eyes fluttered shut again. Alone. She was alone.

But… that wasn’t true, was it? There was a presence at her side, worried and hovering. Alex’s voice cut through the haze, and it sounded like music. Concentrate. Glamour. “Anything for you, babe,” she murmured, and it came out more slurred than she’d wanted it to be. It was supposed to be smooth. Impressive. But she wasn’t either of those right now, was she?

Her eyes squeezed shut tightly, glamour flickering. It was hard to concentrate through the pain, but Alex asked her to do it so she would. The glamour was visibly unsteady, flickering on and off like a faulty lightbulb. Skin one moment, stone the next. She concentrated hard on her injured shoulder, letting out a low groan. “It hurts,” she whispered. “Is it — Am I doing it?”

—

As Kaden struggled with the decedent (but, fine, ultimately did an acceptable job stowing him away), Regan dedicated herself fully to her new patient as information poured out. Girlfriend. Alex had mentioned dating a fae. The pieces snapped together like dislocated bones popping into place. And a warden did this. Her teeth clenched as her jaw tightened around them. “I am not concerned about you being followed.” Normally she would have chastised the promise, but it was not the time. Nor was it the time to mention involving the authorities. Sure, they could not know what Cass was, but this was an unprovoked attack on a near-child. How could someone get away with such a thing, without an effort even being made to stop them? She thought of Teagan, whose assailant was still out there, as far as anyone knew. It could have been the same individual behind both attacks, but they had distinctly different flavors. Discussion for later.

Alex did an admirable job keeping herself together for Cass’s sake. When this was through, she would tell the child that. For now, though, Regan did not want to distract her – especially when her words of encouragement to her girlfriend seemed to be working to stir the patient. “Shoulder first. That is the most pressing concern.” If Regan was correct. It would be the most painful, too. The other incised wounds surely hurt, but they weren’t as deep or putrid. Alex was succeeding – and for that matter, so was Cass. Mostly. The tough material flickered away, replaced by skin, only to transform itself back again. “Keep it steady,” Regan said, “I can only be as steady as you are.” She left providing any comfort to Alex and dove right in, her hands carefully navigating the margins of the wound now that she could see clearly; they were semi-cauterized but still smoldered, and seemed to be almost expanding. If Regan was capable of paling, she might have.

Seeing the injury seared through Cass’s flesh only confirmed Regan’s suspicions. “This is a cold iron injury. Do you know what that is?” She truly did not know the knowledge base of her audience anymore. “It won’t heal by itself. And I cannot improve it. But I can stop it from getting worse, and permit it to heal on its own, given time.” Her palms stung with their own reminder. She had one cold iron blade, and even Cliodhna did not permit its use under typical circumstances. “Kaden,” she turned to him and was pleased to find her own seriousness reflected back at her. “Here is my ID. Card into my office and go into the bottom right drawer of my desk. There is a jar – small, plastic, red top. Bring it here.”

–

Instructions. Those were good. Kaden could follow those. It was better, even. Otherwise the best he could do was pace and wonder if he was in anyone’s way or distracting Regan. He took the ID card and ran off. Once he was out of the door, he hesitated, trying to remember the direction they came in. It was all a blur since they got there and he’d been carrying Cass, he hadn’t paid attention. 

Deep breath. He was pretty sure it was that way and soon enough he was sure once he saw the familiar door to Regan’s office. He fumbled with the card and slammed it against the reader a few different ways, but he didn’t need to put in all the effort, one tap was enough. He nearly pulled the door off its hinges and dove into the office.

Putain, what was it she said? Drawer, something about a drawer. He glanced around and saw a lot of those. Which fucking one? Desk, right, she’d mentioned that, too. Desk drawer. Narrowed it down but not completely. Kaden shut his eyes and tried to repeat the words over in his mind. Bottom drawer. Desk. Red top. That’s what he got. Yanking open the left drawer, all he saw were skulls. That was actually a pretty nice raccoon one but– Right. Task at hand. Better try the drawer on the right before digging around the bones. Sure enough, in the second drawer there was a flash of red. He leaned over and pulled a book out of the way. “How to Flirt Without Sounding like a Serial Killer.” Right. Good luck to her on that one. He set it aside and saw a jar, but reaching for it, it was clear it was just mayonnaise. Which brought some more questions. Either way, next to it was a second jar and there it was, just like she said: red lid, plastic jar. Kaden didn’t know what was in it, all he knew was they needed it and so he grabbed it, sprinting out of the office as fast as he’d gotten there.

“Here,” he said, practically shoving the jar into Regan’s hands. He was out of breath from running but hadn’t noticed until he’d had to speak. Lungs heaving, he backed away and watched. That was all that was left for him to do, wasn’t it? Just watch, hope, and try not to get in the way, wait for any more instructions, but otherwise watch and wonder.

–

Kaden made haste and Regan was left with the two children. Something squirmed inside of her, seeing their pain. Fortunately for all of them, he wasn’t gone long. There it was: the red jar. She accepted it with a nod of approval, and hovered over Cass’s injury as she uncapped it. “This is for… these kinds of injuries. It is likely to work, but I can’t say for certain. It might not be to her specifications, though.” Regan opened the small jar and breathed in the scent of old bone marrow mixed with something floral. It was the last of what she’d brought from Saol Eile. If this happened again, she would need to figure something else out. Somewhere in her cabin was a book with instructions on making more of the salve, and though the ingredient list made a strange kind of sense, it filled her with unease. Still, she did know it worked… on banshees. She had seen it. “I’m going to put this in her wounds. It might sting a little at first, but it will function as an analgesic when it sets in. Most importantly, it will prevent the necrosis of her… flesh.” If it could be called flesh. “Know that there may be other effects. If you have objections, voice them now.”

—

Somewhere in the background, Kaden had returned to her side after getting the descendent where Regan had directed. A distant part of Alex knew that it couldn’t have been an easy task for him, but everything else seemed like a blur as she focused on Cass. It needed to be a blur. If she let her mind drift to the feeling of blood caked to her skin or linger on the fact she was absolutely terrified, there’s no way she’d be able to keep helping. Cass needed her to be strong right now, so she had to be strong. She gently held the oread’s hand and smiled down at her. “You’re doing so good, babe,” she reassured, her voice coming out much more gravelly than she would have liked, “Just keep it up and steady around your shoulder, ok? You got this.” 

She stayed close to Cass as Dr. Kavanagh looked over her shoulder. Every so often, Alex offered whispered reassurances to the oread. Her shoulder looked so much worse with the glamour up. It was so easy to see where the iron had seared her skin and how it seemed to be worse than when they’d first left the forest. Given, the lighting now was much clearer and the werewolf knew she should look away. Her stomach practically begged her to, but she couldn’t scare Cass more. It was her turn to be the brave one and she gripped onto Cass’s hand enough to mask the tremor in her own fingers. 

Her attention turned to Dr. Kavanagh as she spoke of cold iron. None of it made any sense to Alex. How was cold iron any different from regular iron? She didn’t think werewolves were more sensitive to cold silver. That would have been somewhere in the ranger family playbook. She shook her head. “I know iron hurts her. Most of what I know about fae… she didn’t grow up with other fae. I told her that iron hurts her. Is cold iron worse,” she asked though she was fairly certain she already knew the answer. 

It wasn’t something that could heal on its own. Alex wasn’t sure if that made her more angry or afraid. There was some strange haze of both that hung over her as she practically squeaked out, “Please.” Cass was already in terrible shape. She wasn’t sure how much worse the oread could handle before she— She quickly shook her head. She couldn’t think like that. Regan said Cass wouldn’t die here and she wouldn’t. She offered Kaden a quick grateful look as he made off to fetch what Regan needed. 

By the sound of his footsteps, Alex could tell he was moving quickly, but time still seemed to move too slowly. Somewhere she could hear a wall clock and the detail seemed deafening, more so than her own heart hammering away so erratically she swore she could feel it in her throat. Kaden was back and she tuned into Dr. Kavanagh’s instructions. It was likely to work and the emphasis on specifications wasn’t lost on Alex. “So it was made with a different type of fae in mind,” she said lowly, not really speaking to anyone so much as thinking aloud. It was a sure deal, but it was their only chance. While medicine was hardly something she knew about, she sure as hell knew enough that necrosis of the flesh was not good. And since it wasn’t made for Cass, she was fairly certain that meant it was hard to know what the other effects would be. 

“Use it,” Alex decided quickly as she glanced down the wound that already looked worse, “Whatever the effects are can’t be worse than the pacman of stab wounds over here.” If Cass was listening, she’d appreciate the arcade game reference. Alex smiled weakly as she remembered Cass showing her how to play the game and she knelt back down by Cass. “Hey, rockstar,” she grinned weakly, “You’re doing great. I just need you to hold out a little longer. Dr. Kavanagh is going to put something that’ll help on your wounds, but it might sting first… There may be some side effects, but I got you, ok? I’ll be right here.” 

—

She was out of it. It was difficult to follow the conversation, so she stopped trying. Alex would pick up on the important parts and tell her later… if there was a later. The thought rose up without her permission, inky black and heavy. Cass wasn’t a pessimist. Quite the opposite, in fact. She’d been called naive in her optimism, but she clung to it all the same because what was the alternative? The world fucking sucked. If you didn’t hold on to the bright side, you’d lose yourself to the darkness. 

But Cass couldn’t find the bright side here. She couldn’t work out the positives of the situation, couldn’t unpack the good. Everything hurt, and she’d never died before but she was pretty sure this was what it felt like. The way her shoulder seemed to be spreading pain to the rest of her, the shivers she couldn’t stop from wracking her frame, the way Alex and Dr. Kavanagh spoke about her like she wasn’t there and the way she might as well have not been there for how well she could listen to them. Alex was saying things to her occasionally, and Cass clung to her voice like a lifeline even if she couldn’t make out the words.

Alex was beside her, then, and Cass tried with everything she had to listen. Her glamour flickered as he concentration shifted, but she understood what Alex was saying. The doctor was going to do something. It was going to hurt. But it would help her, too. She closed her eyes, nodding her head. “Do it,” she agreed. “Do whatever. I don’t — I don’t want to die.” She looked to Dr. Kavanagh as she said it, eyes feeling wet. “I don’t want to die, okay? Do what you need to do, but don’t let me die.”

—

Cass’s informed consent was, Regan thought, as good as it would get. “No questions or concerns, then. We proceed.” There was something almost familiar about Cass’s voice when she spoke, and as the glamour flickered off her face for a moment, Regan recognized her. Oh, that was too strange to even think of right now. She focused instead on the weak, unevenness of Cass’s plea, the mortal fear, and was determined to be the unmoving force she was required to be. Regan’s voice had an edge of authority and certainty. “You’re not going to die here, today.” 

She was in the rhythm of urgency now, and Alex and Kaden cleared the way for what needed to be done. Cass was still having trouble with her glamour, but she seemed to be able to muster enough resolve to hold it steady now. Whatever that strange, tough material Cass’s skin truly consisted of, it would have been impossible for Regan to access for application. “Good work.” She offered the rare praise, a reminder to hang on as long as she could. With careful hands, Regan dabbed the cream around the wound. What remained went into the other injuries, just in case those were from the same blade, though they didn’t look so malignant. It would help either way. And then that was it. The last of what she had brought from Saol Eile, exhausted. Traded for Cass. Please let it work. 

The wound pulsed with a strange darkness for a moment like the salve had stained it, then sizzled, the searing heat of the iron abating. It still gaped with toothy, jagged edges but now, given the time and proper care, Regan was confident that it would heal. At least until it happened again. These people… this town…  it was at times more rotten than anything in her morgue, and she ought to be grateful she would soon be leaving it. Her eyes ticked from Alex to Kaden, who were probably full of complicated emotions right now. Hope. Fear. Confusion. Her own concern gnawed at her but she set it on ice like her cadavers. Regan watched as the wound seemed to soak up the remaining darkness and waited. For what, she did not know.

—

Good work. It was stupid, she knew. The way those two words somehow meant more than the promise that she wouldn’t die here today, the way they sent a thrill of newfound energy surging through her veins that allowed her the concentration she needed to hold that glamour in place. The doctor, the fae doctor said good work, and Cass was eleven years old again, trying with everything she had to win the approval of nymphs who saw her as more of a bother than a person. Back then, she’d never earned anything resembling praise. But now? She was doing good work. Her smile was small and pained and tight, but it was still there. It was still real.

The doctor’s hands were at the injury on her shoulder, the one that burned and ached and felt hot and cold at the same time. She touched it with something cool, and it was like someone had injected darkness into her veins. The effect felt so instantaneous. The room dimmed. The temperature dropped. Cass blinked, and when she dragged her eyes back open, the morgue was full of strangers. A man with his chest hanging open, staples ripped out. A woman with goat’s legs and a darkening bruise around her throat. A teenager with a crown of blood encircling their head, eyes curious and sad. In the middle of them all, partially blocked off by their bodies, stood Rhett. Staring down at her with an expression of mild curiosity, like she was an animal in the zoo. The scratches Alex’s claws had left in his face were there, blood dry now. 

Were these ghosts, she wondered? A sea of the dead, beckoning for Cass to join them? Her eyes darted to Alex and Kaden and the doctor. There was a wound in Kaden’s side, freely bleeding. His shirt was so covered in blood that the fabric was hard to make out beneath it — had he been wearing red flannel, or did it just look that way now? Alex’s hair was the wrong shade of red, shining dully in the overhead lights of the morgue. It was wet. Not water. It wasn’t water soaking her head. The doctor was in black and white (was that why she looked familiar?), but there were spots of red slowly staining through, swirls of color that didn’t belong. Cass’s breath hitched, eyes darting between them all until something behind them caught her attention.

Kuma stood a few feet from Rhett, arms crossed over her chest. Debbie was beside her, the injuries that led to her death prevalent and obvious in the morgue. They both looked rotted. Everything ached.

And then, Cass blinked again, and it was all gone. It was just as it had been before. There was no blood in Alex’s hair. Kaden’s shirt was clean. The doctor wasn’t exactly colorful, still, white coat and all, but there was no red to be seen. And her shoulder didn’t burn, and she didn’t feel quite as cold, but the exhaustion that clung to her was hard to fight.

“Thank you,” she whispered to the doctor, squeezing her eyes shut. When she opened them again, they darted around for a moment before meeting Alex’s. Clear and blue and alive, like they were supposed to be. She offered the werewolf a small smile and let her consciousness flee. Safe. She was safe now.

—

Desperation had a way of making time seem slower. Alex knew the clock ticked at the same rhythm somewhere off in the distance, but it felt distorted as she gave the doctor room to take care of Cass’s wounds. It wasn’t the first time that Regan assured the oread wouldn’t die here. Fae couldn’t lie. Cass had told her that. Sure, the truth was subjective, but Dr. Kavanagh was a bone nymph. If she said Cass wasn’t going to die here that had to be the truth. At least, it alleviated some of her own fear so she could be the steady presence her girlfriend needed. Not that she would consider herself steady. The only thing that felt steady was the gaze she kept trained on Cass. Even blinking felt like a gamble that she only took when her eyes felt like they were burning. 

The salve seemed to create a cloud of darkness around it and Alex found herself having to cover her mouth and nose as the wound seared. It was strange. The autopsy suite didn’t smell like burning. The bite of medical grade cleaners was the predominant scent in the air, but underneath she could smell him. His blood still coated her body and she didn’t dare look down to find it drying on her skin. Just focus on Cass. 

It seemed like the remedy Dr. Kavanagh had given her was working though Alex couldn’t explain how. There had to be some supernatural fae aspect to it. She could hear the rapid pounding of Cass’s heart, but it was hard to discern anything wrong besides the obvious. Her eyes were darting around the morgue and the werewolf wasn’t sure what she was seeing. She could only hope it wasn’t anything too bad, but if it meant Cass would live, she guessed whatever it was had to be worth it. 

After what felt like an eternity, Cass thanked the doctor and locked eyes with Alex. It was the briefest glance before she watched the oread fully slump onto the table. The breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding came out as a small gasp and she felt everything she’d been compartmentalizing threatening to spill over with it. She took in a slow breath before looking up to Regan. “Dr. Kavanagh,” she started hesitantly. She wasn’t sure where to begin or what to say. All she could think was to express her gratitude, even if Regan would tell her it was foolish. “Thank you,” she said finally, “Really. You saved her. I–”

The words ‘almost lost her’ found themselves trapped in her throat and came out as a strangled sound. It was a floodgate that Alex couldn’t allow herself to open just yet so she shook her head. “I just appreciate it and I’m glad you’re still here.” Aside from the fact Cass would have likely literally died in her arms, she did like Regan. “Anything I need to do for her as far as healing and taking care of her goes, I’m all ears.” 

—

There wasn’t anything left for Kaden to do to help Cass. He was just as helpless as she was to fix her at that moment. He stood back and tried not to be in the way. Alex was there to comfort her girlfriend, Regan was there to heal her, and as much as he wanted to peer over her shoulder and see what was going on, check if it was working, he knew better. Hovering could only make it worse if anything at all. 

Now that his part was done, his mind drifted to the cause of her wounds, the blood covering Alex’s clothes. A warden. Another hunter. Kaden had to wonder if it was someone he knew. His stomach dropped as the face of the hunter dying at Andy’s hand flashed into his memory. Would he see that same look all over again? Would it be at his hands this time? Or Alex’s? Had she already killed him? He didn’t know. He didn’t want this to keep happening. Death. Over and over again. A snake eating its tail. And Kaden didn’t know how to stop it when all he knew how to do was how to slice it in half. 

The gasp from the fae on the table pulled his focus back to the present. His own breath stopped as he waited to see what would happen next – would she pull through or would she pass out again? He reached out and put a hand on Alex’s shoulder, hoping to give some comfort to her while she was giving all hers away to Cass. 

The words ‘thank you’ felt like a sigh of relief, a sign that the course had corrected itself. For now. “Good work,” he said to Regan. “See, way better than a hospital.” He had no idea what it was she did, but he knew it worked. That was enough for him. But now that they were in the clear, thoughts of the hunter and the potentially dead body in the woods lingered. Putain. His eyes darted to Alex, then back to the medical examiner. He opened his mouth to speak. “I, uh, when you have a second I need to talk to–” He knew what he should do, he should report the potential dead body. Alex wouldn’t be implicated. She couldn’t. Right? It’s not like she was human when she did it. Actually, he didn’t know. He just assumed. 

He owed it to the hunter to say something, owed it to his family, but he owed Alex more. He couldn’t risk it. “Nevermind,” he said, waving it off. “Thanks again. Hopefully you won’t see me here again anytime soon.” He glanced back to Alex and gave her a nod. “Come on, let’s get her back home so she can rest.” 

—

Something was happening to Cass – her eyes went wide and scanned the room as if she was looking for something or seeing something, and Regan watched in silence for a moment. Whatever it was seemed to pass, but that didn’t mean it was the last of it. She glanced down to the empty jar, the remnants of the cream clinging to the neck of it. Do not let it be a mistake. The child was increasingly lucid, though, which had to be a good sign. Her other injuries were minor in comparison, and Regan bandaged them up, confident they needed no further attention from her. Cass was certainly benefiting from the diligent attention of her girlfriend, though. Probably an ill-advised relationship, if Cass’s lifespan was anything like that of a banshee’s. But happiness was a rare and often hard-won thing, and she would not spoil theirs, however useless she felt the emotion to be. Yes. Useless. Of course it was. She suppressed the trickle of doubt.

As Cass roused herself up and the two of them thanked her, Regan shook her head. Their gratitude was less than ideal – or at least the language used to express it, was. She let the thank yous linger, not accepting them nor chastising right now. “It’s not over yet. You have a lot of healing to do, and there may be lingering effects from the wound and what I applied to it. Monitor it closely and come to me if anything unexpected occurs.” Her voice lowered, something soft squirming through her that she barely recognized and did not particularly like. “I didn’t save her. I think you did that. Or perhaps she saved herself.”

And then there was Kaden. “I do not need your ‘good job’.” She narrowed her eyes at him. Demeaning. And what followed pulled at her temper, however much she tried to deny it. “Or your jokes. You come here instead of the hospital and you tell me good job.” Regan wrinkled her nose at him, but Cass was too much a priority for her aggravation at the remark to persist. Did Kaden have something to tell her? Or was he trying to tell something to Alex or Cass? She wasn’t going to figure it out now, apparently, as he seemed to cut himself off. Later, then. Maybe he was trying to tell her there was something to discuss later. She turned to address all three of them. “Not that you chose poorly, in this very specific instance. But we are not done here. Today, right now, we are, because… well, she is asleep.” Regan motioned toward Cass, whose eyes were shut and who looked entirely like a rock again. “But we will need to discuss this attempted murder. I don’t need another victim in here.”

—

Adrenaline was a funny thing. In the absence of an immediate threat and the knowledge Cass would be okay, the rush that had been pushing her forward had melted into lead. Or maybe peridotite would be more accurate. The metaphorical density of her bones was hardly the point, but Alex knew they felt heavy. So did the blood and flakes of rock on her skin. And her chest. She wasn’t sure if it was the firm kick from Rhett or the weight of what had just happened catching up to her somehow, but now it was sinking. 

Then the hand on her shoulder reminded Alex she didn’t have to carry this alone. Even as Kaden spoke again, there was something decisive in his tone. He knew as well as she did that Regan would have questions. She didn’t mind that so much. Even if Regan seemed to follow the letter of the law, she knew about this stuff. She was part of this stuff. She’d seen firsthand what Rhett had done to Cass. Even if the medical examiner did insist on going the official route, she doubted claw marks could truly be traced back to her. Plus, she was pretty sure some logic or law of self defense was on her side. There was a chance she killed him, but he’d been the one to lift the knife. She’s given him every chance. Her gaze drifted to her sleeping girlfriend and she couldn’t help but think maybe she’d given him too many chances. 

That thought hurt to linger on so Alex instead aptly listened to the doctor’s instructions. She’d need to monitor Cass closely. She could do that. Hell, she wasn’t sure it’d be so much a choice on her part. As tired as she was, she didn’t think she’d find sleep in the coming hours. She’d nodded diligently and had been prepared to accept the instructions as they were, but then there was something there again. It was the tiniest glimpse of something less cold in her eyes. It was brief and if the doctor’s words hadn’t matched that slight etch of something warmer in her features, she would have doubted she saw it all. “Oh,” she uttered with wide eyes. She hadn’t expected that. Dr. Kavanagh had called her a good child once, but this held something more. She saved someone. She saved Cass. She wasn’t too soft. She was soft and she’d protected those parts of herself by protecting the person who brought them out the most. And Cass saved herself too. She was proud of her for pushing through that pain so Dr. Kavanagh could treat her wounds even if the oread never should have experienced that pain in the first place.

If the creeping exhaustion hadn’t fully made itself at home in her body, Alex would have nudged her cousin. It wasn’t lost on her that jokes in the face of traumatic incidents was a shared family trait. Pointing it now wouldn’t hold the same satisfaction, especially not when there was something so comfortable in it for her. Dr. Kavanagh didn’t seem to appreciate it though. That wasn’t entirely surprising and if she wasn’t so tired, she’d feel bad that Kaden seemed to be taking the brunt of her frustration when all he did was drive the car. “We’ll get her home,” she assured, “Once she’s settled, I’ll answer anything you want to know. He won’t do this again.”

Alex didn’t know if he was dead, but some part of her knew he probably should be. That spark of hatred in his eyes was too familiar. She knew the only thing that put it out was blood. Or at least, if there had been some other answer, she wasn’t privy to it. If love had been enough, she had to think it would have made a difference with her parents. It didn’t matter anyway. She gave Cass’s hand one final squeeze before she moved aside to let Kaden pick her back up so they could go home. “You’re gonna be okay,” she whispered to the oread she knew couldn’t hear her, “I got you. We got you.” 

Because even if she couldn’t hear it, Alex still felt it was important to remind Cass she wasn’t alone in the world. Not anymore. 

[nightmaretist]

PARTIES: Kaden @chasseurdeloup & Inge @nightmaretist LOCATION: Kaden's head TIMING: When Kaden was afflicted by the mimes CONTENT WARNINGS: This nightmare contains dipping bread in blood (and eating it), murder and grief. SUMMARY: Inge visits one of Kaden's recurring nightmares of Damien's murder, only to find everything is in greyscale. Weird! She decides to run with it and both parties have a nice meal.

There was something very wrong about this scene. It wasn’t the contents of the scene itself, those were interesting — a woman holding a knife against the throat of a struggling man, who sometimes seemed more wolf than man, and her sleeper being panicked by the scene. It lacked color, this scene: and not in the sense that Inge thought there needed to be a change of decor, but in the sense that everything seemed black and white.

Did this man dream of his memories the way shitty TV shows depicted flashbacks, with a filter over them? Was this even a memory, or just a very gauche nightmare? Either way, the woman was too stunned to nightmare. Inge watched as the knife slit over the wolf/human neck, producing a healthy and thick flow of blood.

There was something to be said about messing around with the color of blood, making it something oily and tar-like, or even dark and rotting-green. But this was all wrong: this blood ought to be red. Inge let shadows fall over the scene, as if all the light sources were out and took the couch, the man watching, the murderess and the victim to somewhere else. Everything and everyone stood in the same positions as they had before, but now they were in an abandoned, dried out field that stretched out forever. No dice. Even in a scenario of her own creation, there was no color. 

—

The doorway felt wider and narrower than he remembered all at the same time. The space between was black, a void of nothingness. It didn’t matter, his focus was only on one thing, the scene set in front of him. The same one that was set over and over again. Keira with a knife to Damien’s throat, but this time, he was transforming into the wolf. His fingernails were claws, his teeth fangs, and his eyes a glowing yellow. There was blood spilling everywhere, but Kaden couldn’t tell if it was from the gash to his throat or from the bite to her arm. It was all a mess, a tangle of violence and gore. 

Only, it was all in black and white. Everything. The horror remained the same. Kaden couldn’t reach them, no matter how far he ran, he couldn’t get any closer, couldn’t stop it.

The world went dark. “No.” Where did they go? He had to find them, he had to stop it. He scrambled, trying to feel around in the dark, but there was nothing. He couldn’t even find the ground, though he was standing on something. 

The light returned and he was surrounded by grass, gray and lifeless. The couch and the scene was still there, still out of reach. The meadow they stood in wasn’t peaceful, it was stagnant, like standing water, everything still and decaying. He looked around for any sign of life. All he found was a figure. One he didn’t recognize. His brow furrowed. “Hello?” he called out.

—

There was something very wrong with this man, this night or herself. Ingeborg didn’t want to believe there was something amiss with herself, but the sheer concept of it was enough to make her distracted. Why wasn’t the blood red? What was the point of a memory of a gruesome murder if there wasn’t that horror-ish stream of blood, thick like tar but as red as poppies?

Her sleeper, a man with a thick beard and pleasant features, scrambled in his search. Inge watched the blood flow from the throat, increased the flow and tried her mightiest to make it red. To fill the gray field, gray sky, gray scene with nothing but red until it coverited everything and raised like water. Sticking to their ankles. They could drown in it, but only if it turned red.

And then he was talking to her, her presence known – which wasn’t how it was supposed to be! – and Inge opened her mouth. Her attention was no longer on the couch-scene, but herself — and as she spoke it wasn’t with a human mouth, but a bird’s beak. Sharp, black and crow-like. Why would she be herself, especially here? “His blood’s all wrong,” she cawed, screeched, bellowed, “Where’s the color? Why’s his blood all wrong?” 

—

This was wrong somehow. He couldn’t put his finger on it. Kaden knew this scene, he knew the fear, the liminal space, even the lack of color reflected what he was used to seeing by now. But there was an unsettling presence, more than usual. The blood kept flowing and flowing, the screams continued, the growling and snarling, too. Still, the color all around them remained gray and drab. He couldn’t tell if that made the scene worse or not. 

He turned back to the woman who was now part crow and he stumbled back, slipping and falling into the river of blood. His sister’s blood. His friend’s blood. Maybe even his father’s. He could feel it rising steadily and he could feel his limbs pulled under when he attempted to stand again. The blood was going to drown him, he was sure of it. Even if it wasn’t red, he could smell the iron. “Wh—what?” He asked as she squawked at him. “Why is it wrong?” He looked around at the scene. “I— I don’t know. The color, uh…” He tried to remember, tried to piece things together. “The mushrooms. It’s the mushrooms.” It was then that he realized the whole time, his lips hadn’t been moving and all of his words had been echoing in his mind to hers. Putain de merde. 

—

He wasn’t speaking but he was, his lips sealed together but his voice loud and clear in her head and all around him. Was he colorblind? That was certainly an option and it would be intriguing to know that colorblind people dreamed without color too. Some neuroscientist would probably be jumping at that knowledge, but Inge didn’t care. It was wrong. Besides, he mentioned shrooms. “Wait, you’re tripping right now?”

The bird cackled, laughing in its animalistic form because Inge was laughing. Of course she ended up in the dream of someone who just took shrooms. Maybe she’d even stay a bit, see what his own subconscious would throw at her. But the scene remained relatively tame, the field still dead and gray. That was until a creature slithered towards her, a literally snake in the grass. Interesting. What was more interesting was that it wasn’t a snake, it was a baguette. And it wasn’t just a baguette in gray tones, but it was striped. She laughed again, bending down. None of this was real. The bird-woman picked up the snake around its neck, wiggling it in the sky. “Who’s this?”

—

“Tripping?” Kaden’s confusion was overshadowed by the fear of it all. “No, not those sorts of mushrooms. These were… They were striped. Like maybe a–” Even though he wasn’t speaking aloud, the presence of something slithering stole his words away. Like a drain had been opened up below him, the black and white blood seeped away into the ground, leaving the ranger covered in gray goo and lying in the grass. The scent hit him before he saw it. The scent of freshly baked bread.

The baguette slithered towards him and was just about to strike when the strange bird or woman or whoever, he couldn’t tell, swooped in and grabbed it. “Good question.” As he said that, he could smell a whole bakery in the distance. “Baguettes. Evil baguettes. I don’t fucking understand but we have to–” Kaden pushed himself up and started to run away, as fast as he could through the sea of never ending grey grass. It was like he was running in place no matter how fast he moved his legs. Knife. He just need a knife. And with a flash of white, lightning struck and Kaden was face to face with Damien’s dead body, slumped on the floor. The knife covered in his blood was there next to him in the grass. The ranger only needed to reach out and grab it, but instead he collapsed under the weight of the grief he was carrying with him. 

— 

So there was no color and no sound coming from his mouth, but there was smell. Even Inge wasn’t completely immune to the smell of freshly baked bread, and through her bird’s beak she sniffed the snake/baguette in her claw. Part of her considered taking a bite, letting herself have her fun with this ridiculously wrong dream, but she thought better of it as she felt herself grow more satiated with actual nutrients. The sleeper was scared. He was running. She smiled. 

She ripped the snake in two and it broke like a baguette would, revealing airy bread inside. With bird-like speed she fluttered over to the dead body and the knife. A lot of people in this town have murdered loved ones, Inge thought. She joined the scene of mourning and extended a bird’s claw to the other, in which she held half of the baguette/snake. “Here,” she said, dipping the other half of the bread into the dead man’s blood as if it was some kind of sauce. Tar-like, black sauce, because there was still no color. It might as well be a chocolate sauce. “EAT.” A demand, now, ripping off part of the dipped-bread-snake with her beak and gesturing at the other to do the same. 

— 

Kaden jumped when a bird’s talon reached out to him. Looking up, he saw the bird lady was there in front of him, standing over Damien’s dead body and holding the pieces of the snake baguette. She sopped the bread in his friend’s blood and even though it was all black and white and everything looked and felt wrong, Kaden could feel his stomach churn. And she commanded him to eat as she did the same. 

The ranger was about to push himself off the ground, to run away again, but when he looked down, his hands were holding two pieces of the strange bread. Blood was seeping out from the baguette and his hands were covered in it before long. He tried to drop them, to shake them away, but the bread stayed put. The blood didn’t stop flowing, either, dripping down and coating his wrists and his arms. “EAT,” he heard echoing in his head. “N-no,” he tried to say, but his hands moved closer to his face, as if they were under someone else’s control. “No,” he tried again but it wasn’t doing anything to change the fact that the blood soaked bread was only getting closer to his mouth. 

This couldn’t be real. Even in this town, this couldn’t be real. Putain, he hoped this wasn’t real. 

—

He was terrified, she could feel it. She could feel it feeding her as she munched on the dream bread, as she watched him be moved by some kind of invisible force to eat the bread. Inge could fathom, somewhere, that this was a horrifying thing to make someone do — but that was the point, wasn’t it? To inspire terror. To push people’s imaginations further than their own mortal subconsciousness could. 

Maybe she should be affected, though, by his pleas. But she wasn’t forcing his hand, that was all him — or at least some fucked up part of him. “Bon appetit,” she said, using a clawed hand to tap the bread from its bottom, so it was forced against his lips. Inge waited until his mouth made proper contact with it all and then she decided it was enough.

He was getting distracted. They always got distracted when it became a little too scary or confrontational for them, and that was often a sure sign that they’d wake up. Inge had no interest in seeing her sleepers frozen in fear, so she returned to where he was resting and then fled, into the astral, wondering when she’d revisit this strange man.

—

As the taloned fingers pushed the bread towards his mouth, it all became too much. This wasn’t real. It couldn’t be real. This was a dream. The bird lady faded away and the rest of the world crumbled around him. Everything went black just as Kaden’s eyes opened and he sprung up off the air mattress. 

Putain de merde. Another fucking nightmare. At least he didn’t scream when he woke up this time. Granted, he couldn’t even whisper at the moment thanks to the damn mushrooms. The whole thing was weirder than normal, though. Who the hell was that bird woman, anyway? He was pretty sure it wasn’t anyone he knew. Maybe it was someone he saw in the shelter the other day. Kaden ran his palm down his face, rubbing his eyes and accepting the fact that he likely wasn’t getting any more sleep tonight. 

The wind whistled through the window that had been left cracked to let in the night air. It was almost too cold now so Kaden turned and reached over to shut it, not noticing the break in the salt line sprinkled along the window sill. Even if he had, the only salt on his mind at the moment was the salt he planned on putting on his eggs. If he couldn’t sleep, he was declaring it time for breakfast. If nothing else, he needed a way to wipe the memory of iron soaked bread lingering on the tip of his tongue. 

[bastardfae]

closed starter for @kresnikxkaden

as far as bad luck went, this was likely his worst spell of it yet. the trial had been a disaster. or, at least, the sales pitch of his innocence had been. nothing could have prepared arnon for what he’d had to face. his disgust had initially outweighed his uncertainty as he’d been forced to stand before the council. he’d spent so many years nurturing his hatred that the sight of them as a homogenous whole had momentarily silenced all logical thought and nothing but explicit disdain had registered in his mind. at first, he’d celebrated at the news of tiernan’s attack. he’d cracked open the last bottle of beer lingering in his fridge and toasted the ceiling in thanks to fate for bestowing a modicum of karma upon the bastard. what he hadn’t expected, however, was the blame being immediately pinned on him. it wasn’t exactly a surprise, not really. considering his last words to tiernan in summer secrets, arnon would’ve been more surprised if someone else had found blame unfairly shoved onto them. regardless, it wasn’t a remarkable turn of events to find himself at the centre of.

as he scanned his gaze over the opposite wall of his holding cell for what felt like the millionth time, arnon tried to keep calm despite the overwhelming urge to make a break for it. there wasn’t a chance of him being able to do so. the mere thought of attempting such a feat was little more than laughable. the place was guarded ridiculously well and no matter how fortunate his abilities had the tendency to be, the guards had gone above and beyond when ensuring that utilising them was impossible. the sound of approaching footsteps registered in his mind almost immediately. bracing himself for the inevitable, arnon glanced towards the bars of his cell in muted curiosity before his expression softened at the sight of such a familiar face. “hey there, stranger,” he murmured softly, not trusting his voice not to falter. “you come to read me my last rites?”

[ironcladrhett]

TIMING: Summer 2023 LOCATION: Various PARTIES: Rhett (@ironcladrhett) & Kaden (@chasseurdeloup) SUMMARY: Last summer, Rhett caught a lone hesperide for ‘questioning’. He spotted (known hunter) Kaden by chance and invited him along to help. Unfortunately for them both, the nymph in question was a close personal friend of Kaden’s. CONTENT WARNINGS: Torture

—

You catch more flies with honey than with vinegar. What a stupid saying. And what it didn't account for was persistence. You could catch all the fucking flies if you were persistent enough. 

Rhett straddled the line somewhere between vinegar and persistence, employing heaps of both to get his hands on every fae that he could. He cared very little for appearances, throwing himself into situations that other hunters might shy away from to get his target, not caring about the consequences. He had a singular mission, and he'd see it through until it killed him. That left very little room for bleeding heart tendencies. 

Tailing the unassuming looking man, his skin burning with the closeness of the nymph, the warden wore a fierce grimace. The evening was warm and the setting sun cast long shadows over the town, offering him a decent amount of cover. It was just a waiting game at this point: waiting for a moment that no one else faced their way. They were approaching a rather rowdy sounding bar and Rhett frowned. He didn't want to have to use some other tactic on this asshole. He wanted to grab him now, while the van was still nearby. 

Finally, an opportunity presented itself. Rhett lunged forward and slapped a hand over the man's mouth while the other grabbed the hair at the back of his head, using it like a handle as he shoved the fae toward the brick wall to their left, slamming his head into it to knock him out. The nymph crumpled in his arms and Rhett hoisted him over his shoulder, making a quick exit for the van. He certainly got some looks from passerby, but the fake phone call he was loudly making to 911 about his friend that'd had too much to drink seemed to stop any questions that might have otherwise been thrown his way. 

Reaching the van, Rhett stood around for another few seconds until the coast was clear again, stuffing his phone back in his pocket and opening the back, where he unceremoniously dumped the unconscious fae.

It wasn't until he closed the doors again that he saw someone familiar standing there, staring at him.

"Oi, Tenderfoot!" Rhett called with a grin. His gaze danced to the rear doors and he snickered. "Bagged me a nymph, got a few questions for it. Get over here, come with! Could always use an extra pair'ah hands." 

—

As he tossed away the burnt out butt of his cigarette, Kaden glanced down at his watch. It was a minute later than the last time he’d looked. And still no sign of Aidan. He sighed and reached back into his pocket to pull out another smoke and light it up. Normally he would wait inside, wouldn’t worry, but something felt off. The hunter couldn’t put his finger on it, but this was unusual. The match had started about fifteen minutes ago and Aidan had planned to get there early so he could make sure to have a pint in hand before the coin toss. Still, no show. He hoped he wouldn’t make it through the whole pack before the guy got here, but he was starting to think that might be the case. 

Putain, he was probably worrying about nothing. He was about to toss the half finished cigarette and stomp it out when he heard a slam and some sort of scrambling coming from around the corner. Kaden moved away from the wall he was propped up against in the alley and crept closer to the origin of the commotion, careful not to make too much noise himself, his light falling onto the concrete, smoke snaking up to the sky as he left it behind. 

At the corner, he leaned over to get a peek of what the hell was going on. There was a van that looked like it had seen better days and those days were probably in the 60’s or 70’s at best. There was also a man hoisting a body over his shoulders. The same body was then thrown into the back of the van. Wait, not just a body. That was Aidan. Putain de merde, why was someone abducting him into a fucking murder van? What was going on? Kaden was frozen in place, not sure if he should intervene, or back away and trail the whole thing from a distance. 

He didn’t get a chance to decide because when the doors swung closed, a familiar face greeted him. Merde. A pit plummeted into Kaden’s stomach as he tried to wipe the horrified look off his face. “Hey,” he called out, taking a step away from the corner and closer to the van. “Nymph, huh?” Was his voice shaking? Putain, he hoped it wasn’t fucking shaking. And anyway, that was Aidan, not a nymph.

Putain de merde, was Aidan a nymph? Fuck. He figured the warden was going to know more than he did on that front. A warden who just shoved his friend into the back of a van. And invited him along for the fun. Kaden had half a mind to throw his fist into Rhett’s face and run off with Aidan, but it was never going to work. There was no way he could take a seasoned hunter like that out with one hit and the only way he was getting out of there with an unconscious body was if Rhett wasn’t able to run right after them. 

So Kaden took a deep breath, nodded, and said, “Happy to help,” before hopping into the passenger seat of the van. He hoped Rhett wasn’t a shitty driver because he wasn’t sure how long he could keep the bile threatening to rise up this throat at bay. 

—

Unfortunately for Kaden, Rhett was kind of a shitty driver, thanks mostly to the fact that he was effectively blind these days. Boy, he’d really taken his peripheral vision for granted when he had it. 

Taking them back out of town and toward the coast, Rhett was as giddy as a kid in a candy store. He was pretty sure the thing in the back was a hesperide, he was telling Kaden, on account of how absolutely revolting it felt to be in close quarters with it. Or maybe that was just him being judgy, but it didn’t matter. He just hoped that this one wasn’t another loner, and actually had an aos sí that it reported back to once in a while. 

“You wouldn’t believe how many fuckin’ communities of fae there are ‘round here, mate. Mind bogglin’. Shocked this whole town ain’t indebted itself to ‘em, yet. But they will, given enough time. They will.” He had. He glanced over at Kaden as they pulled onto a dirt access road, riding through the woods right alongside the beach. The bunker wasn’t far now.

“You got much experience with ‘em? Fae, I mean.”

—

Kaden’s knuckles were turning whiter and whiter as he gripped the handle above the door tighter and tighter with each minute of Rhett’s driving. It was going to be a miracle if he made it out of this alive as much as if Aiden did. It was going to be a minor miracle if they didn’t get into a car accident on the way to wherever the hell it was they were going. 

The ranger tried to rely on his training, bury emotions, keep them at bay and try not to show his hand. He was sure as hell out of practice, though. He’d been letting that part of his hunter duties slip even before he went full on off the fucking rails. Hopefully the warden was too giddy with his latest catch to notice Kaden’s nerves. He had plenty to say about what kind of nymph his friend was at the very least. “I believe it,” Kaden grumbled. “Made it thirty-three years without getting into a bind with a fae and a few months here, one got my goddamn name.” Merde, maybe he shouldn’t have said that. Sure, Beau was obnoxious and a piece of shit, but he didn’t want the guy gutted. “Got it back, though.” That was obvious enough. 

“You have to ask?” he said, a little embarrassed. “No. My experience has been to avoid them and leave this shit to wardens.” Apparently his experience lately had been to befriend them. He let out a slow exhale as the van bounced along the unpaved road. Where the fuck were they headed? Putain de merde, he was in over his fucking head either way, he knew that much. 

—

The admission that he’d lost his name, even if temporarily, earned a raised brow from the warden. “That so?” Well, he’d have to be on the lookout for that one. Name stealing, in and of itself, wasn’t so dangerous as it was annoying, but that didn’t make much of a difference to a warden like Rhett. If it was fae, it needed to die. Simple as that. And someone who made a habit of stealing names might be the best fae to know if someone by the name of Mariela had come through this town after all. “What was it called? The one that took yer name. Might be a bit of use t’me.” Before I kill it, came the unspoken addendum. Rhett had learned over the years that sometimes other hunters frowned upon his methods, and unless they were family like Emilio, he wasn’t eager to clue them in… as he brought a man who might as well have been a stranger with him to his bunker where he planned to interrogate the hesperide stirring to life in the back of the van. He was nothing if not contradictory. 

Glancing over his shoulder, Rhett hissed a soft curse under his breath. The groans of his quarry didn’t inspire any kind of guilt or remorse, of course, only irritation. It was okay. They were close.

The bunker was built into a small hill, windowless and as secure as it could be. The beach was only a few minutes walk away, and the salty sea breeze reached all the way to where Rhett was hoisting the fae back into his arms, glowering at the way he moaned and tried to blink open his eyes. He gave Kaden the feet, hooking one arm under the fae’s while keeping the other free to punch in the passcode on the door. It beeped and gave a hefty thunk as the lock disengaged, allowing the warden to push it open with his back as he guided the ranger inside.

The entrance seemed fairly normal and looked almost ready to live in with a couch and assortment of chairs and a desk, but there was another door near the back—as big and heavy as the one that led inside this place, similarly lacking in any kind of window or peephole. That was where Rhett took them, entering a different passcode from the first. 

This room was devoid of furniture, unless you wanted to count the iron cuffs hanging from an iron chain from the middle of the ceiling. And naturally, this was where Rhett strung the fae up, patting it down to look for any weapons and whatever the thing was that was keeping the glamour up even though it was unconscious—mostly. A ring was found and removed, and immediately the human visage melted away to make room for the true appearance of this sun nymph. The warden laughed delightedly. 

“What’d I tell ya, Tenderfoot?” The nymph rolled its head back, luminous eyes opening slowly as it tried to pull itself to its feet, arms bound above its head. The burn of the iron took a few seconds to register, but once it had, the creature let out a pained wail. Insect wings fluttered behind it, trying to lift and pull it away from the offending metal, but the chain prevented it from getting very far before it collapsed again to the floor of the bunker, only able to sink into a slight squat thanks to the length of the chain. 

“Wh… what—where am I?” it bleated, blinking a few times and looking around before its gaze fell on Kaden. There was a silent sort of horror that sat there on the inhuman face, like it was trying to decide if it should call out to its friend, or if this had been the plan all along. 

—

“Yeah,” Kaden replied sheepishly. He hated admitting to being that stupid and careless, especially as a hunter. He should have known better, but he wasn’t used to living surrounded by so many fae and having to watch his words that closely. It could have been worse, that was for sure. Still, he shifted in his seat when Rhett asked for the fae’s name. It felt like a terrible idea to tell the warden Beau’s name, even if he was an annoying pain in the ass, he didn’t want to just put a target on the guy’s head for no reason. “Funny you should ask,” he started, “part of the deal to get mine back was that I couldn’t tell anyone his.” It sounded like the kind of thing a fae would say, right? Putain, he sure fucking hoped so. 

When they arrived it was clear that there was no way to make a break for it, not out here. They were in the middle of fucking nowhere. There was nowhere to run, no one to call to for help, and no escape. For him or for Aiden. Shit, shit, shit. Kaden was never good at making plans, quick or otherwise, and he sure didn’t have any now. All he could do was take his friend’s feet in his arms, helping to hoist him inside the bunker.

Okay, it wasn’t too bad. This place had a couch, maybe this would just be a sit down conversation and not a— Putain. Of course there was a second fucking door into a terrifying fucking torture room. Great. Good. Fantastic. Kaden watched his friend as the warden chained him up, his stomach churning with every clash of the iron chains. He could feel his breath getting shorter; it felt like the room was running out of oxygen already. If this was another situation like the one with Damien, he—

No. It wouldn’t be like that. Deep breath. He didn’t know how he was going to fix this, but he would. At least make it less fucking awful. Somehow. Just had to figure out how.

Kaden dug his fingernails into his palms, willing any concern or sympathy at Aiden’s wailing off his face. It was hard. Even though he no longer looked like the guy he knew knocking back beers at the bar, that was still him, alright, and it was all he could do not to run over and break the chains right then and there. The ranger closed his eyes and tried to remember his years of training, of pushing away his emotions, wiping the slate clean. At least he’d learn how to make it look that way. 

And it almost worked. Until Aiden woke up and locked eyes with Kaden. His knuckles went white and he was surely going to have crescent shaped bruises on his palms when this was all said and done. He directed his gaze right back to Rhett as soon as he could. “Alright, what do you need to know? What’s the plan?”

—

Hm. The name-stealer would have to wait, then. Letting the subject drop, Rhett figured there wasn’t much point in pressing Kaden for more details. 

Now, as they stood in the dimly lit room with the sun nymph, Rhett looked to Kaden as he was asked about a plan. “Plan? That’s a laugh,” he said with a grin, moving toward the wall to push down on an industrial-looking switch. The room was bathed in darkness, and the nymph groaned. It still glowed dimly in the dark, but it wouldn’t be able to blind them like this, not when it had no light source to pull from. 

Rhett approached the hesperide, grabbing it by the jaw. The contact burned both of them—the fae because of Rhett’s iron-infused skin, and Rhett because of the hesperide’s ability to make itself hot to the touch. Rhett didn’t care. He’d endured far worse than this. The fae, however, wailed beneath his grip, clearly unused to being the victim of pain. 

“Mariela,” he snapped, forcing the creature to look at him. There was a flash of recognition in those bright, alien eyes, and Rhett felt the adrenaline dump into his system. With a vicious laugh, the warden tightened his grip and pressed his free palm to the fae’s forehead, relishing the hiss that followed. 

“I know she's hiding in an aos sí in the state park. How many fae live there?” Nothing. The nymph just sobbed, and Rhett’s patience wore a little more thin. “I said, how many?!” 

“I-I don’t know! I don’t know who that is!”

“Liar. Fucking liar! Ya can’t hide from me, ya sneaky son of a bitch. Saw that look you had. Now tell me how many strong ya are, or I’m gonna start ripping your fuckin’ wings off.” 

—

Kaden didn’t know what to expect from the warden, but he hadn’t expected the sudden jump to violence. That was his mistake. Looking around, he should have known better. He’d met hunters like this before: plenty of them. He didn’t make a habit of working with them, though. This sort of set up, it was barbaric. 

The darkness didn’t phase Kaden. It was easy enough for him to still make out every movement but he hoped the same couldn’t be said for Rhett. He wasn’t sure if Aiden could see him but he was pretty sure that didn’t matter. The fae wasn’t focused on the ranger, he was focused solely on his tormenter and Kaden could hardly blame him. 

Kaden clenched his jaw so tight he was worried he might break a tooth. He had to stay still. He couldn’t blow his cover, not while they were all trapped in a fucking bunker and he had no plans of how the fuck to get them both out of there alive. But the sobs and the wails of pain hit him like a kick to the gut. He couldn’t stand by and let this happen. His fingernails clawed into the skin on his arm as he held his arms crossed tightly against his chest, holding himself back. Please, please just tell him what he wants to hear, he begged in his mind. Maybe that would be enough. Maybe then he could pull the warden away.

But of course Aiden didn’t know anything. And if he did, he wasn’t telling. Even so, Kaden knew that nothing was going to stop the warden. No amount of information would sate him. It never did. He knew that even before he made threats to rip out Aiden’s wings. But that was enough. No amount of self-control could hold him back. 

“Hey,” he shouted as he yanked Rhett by the shoulder. “He said he didn’t know. What more do you fucking want? The fuck is this, anyway?”

The split-second break from the pain was enough for Aiden to catch the ranger’s gaze. “Langley,” he said. “You owe me.” Putain. Kaden felt a pit drop in his stomach. He knew words were dangerous with fae, he was told that much, though he could never be sure what that really meant. He left that shit to wardens to deal with. Only now it seemed like his own problem. He had no doubt that he’d said something that a fae could use against him. Aiden was his friend, he didn’t watch his words around him. He barely watched his words around anyone. “Get me out of here. Alive.”

It felt like a string tethered between him and the fae had pulled taught. It was tugging at him and nagging at him, ready to drag him into action. Merde. He was going to have to fight the warden, wasn’t he? 

—

Whipping around to face Kaden, Rhett almost forgot that he was friend, not foe. Or… so he had assumed. Couldn't be sure now with the way the ranger was stepping in, trying to hold him back. That seed of doubt sprouted when the fae called the ranger by name, and bloomed as it demanded a favor of him. A repayment for something. Rhett’s teeth bared in a furious grimace. "You too, huh?" he snapped, thinking of Emilio and how he'd made a terrible habit of befriending these freaks. He grabbed Kaden’s wrist, holding it too tightly as he glared at him. 

“If this motherfucker tells me what I wanna know, it can leave in one piece,” the warden warned, letting his gaze snap over to the hesperide. “What it’s about ain’t none’ah yer fuckin’ business.” Especially not if Tenderfoot was one of the bleeding heart types. He gave Kaden a rough shove away from him, turning again to the hesperide, dark and terrible and looming over the creature like death itself. “What you owe them, anyway? They ain’t here to help you now. Never would be. Tell me how many there are.” He already knew where the entrance was, but just barging in there was not an option. Not yet. 

Aiden scowled back, but seemed to have grown something of a spine now that their secret was out. “You try anything and your friend is dead,” he mocked Rhett, who just let out a bleat of laughter in his face.

“My friend? Oh, you got it all wrong, pal. We ain’t friends. Hell, we’s barely acquaintances. Just brothers by trade, as it were. Killin’ folk like you, what we were born for.You on the other hand… you two got history. Wouldn’t want to see any harm come to him, now would ya?” Aiden’s expression fell, and the warden straightened up, looking pleased with himself. He circled the spot where the fae slouched, throwing a glance Kaden’s way, silently warning him to stay out of it. Rough, calloused fingers ran along one of the wings that fluttered behind the nymph, gentle for only a moment before gripping it roughly at its base. Aiden howled again, mostly out of fear rather than pain, and began to beg Rhett to stop.

“How many?” 

“I-I don’t know exactly, okay? I’ve only been inside a few times, I just have some friends that live there—”

“So make an educated fuckin’ guess, firefly,” Rhett snarled. 

“Thirty! O-or maybe… I don’t know! Fifty? There’s families and at least a dozen homes. Probably two dozen!”

“What do they got fer protection?”

“Protection? Wh-what—why—” 

Tired of being questioned, Rhett braced his other hand against Aiden’s shoulder and pulled, hard and fast. The wing ripped from the socket with considerable resistance and was immediately dropped to the floor. He couldn’t be sure if removing it so barbarically would mean Parker wouldn’t want it, but that was not quite so high on his list of priorities at the moment. He was more focused on the agonized shrieking of the fae in front of him, and how the other hunter was likely to interfere any second now. Oh well.

—

Him, too? Kaden wasn’t sure what the warden meant by that. Who else was… what? Soft? Meddling? Kaden couldn’t be sure of any of the real meaning behind those words but he tried to keep the confusion from showing all over his face. It didn’t matter. 

He knew he could twist out of the warden’s grip if he wanted to, even with the vice grip he had on his wrist. Years of training and fighting, he could have broken away. He knew it wouldn’t matter. It wasn’t the hand on his wrist holding Kaden back, that wasn’t what was keeping him here. No, that would be the tightrope he was walking. The one he had to balance on to get his friend out of this safely. One wrong move and not only would Kaden fall, but he’d take Aiden with him. 

He couldn’t lose anyone else. 

His eyes fixed on the fae, silently promising that he would fix this. As if he wasn’t already bound by his past words. It wouldn’t have mattered. He wouldn’t fight any less. 

Fighting right now looked a lot like standing still. Waiting for the right moment. Calculating the fastest way to break the chains, to open the bunker, to knock this fucker out. Kaden bit his tongue as the warden wrapped his fingers around Aiden’s wings. His own hand clenched into a fist so tight that the only thing he could feel were his fingernails digging into his palm.

It took everything in him to stand there while the warden interrogated his friend. Every inch of him screamed to move, to do something, but he knew he couldn’t, not yet. It wouldn’t benefit either of them in this position. The warden had the advantage and all three of them knew it. He could wait. He would wait. Until the right–

The scream bounced off the concrete walls and ripped through Kaden’s core. He could barely register what had happened. There was a wing in the warden’s hand. A wing that was no longer attached to Aiden. Aiden who was crying out in unspeakable pain.

His feet moved before he had even pieced the whole picture together. Kaden threw himself at the warden, charged at him and tackled him to the ground. Fists flew, looking for flesh to pound. There was no plan, no grace, nothing but rage. 

—

The nymph’s wails were a poignant backdrop for the scene of one hunter turning against another, the rattle and clang of the chain as it tried to wrench itself free adding depth to the sound, the scuff of its feet on the concrete as it scrambled away from them pairing nicely with the heavy thud of Rhett’s back hitting the floor. The warden let out a furious bellow of his own, still pissed that this was happening despite having anticipated it given the exchange of the last minute or so. His arms moved to protect his face, knees tried to pull in close to his chest to get him leverage to hoist Kaden off to the side, but there was no luck to be found there. The ranger was sat on his middle, hitting him in every place he could reach. Rhett yelled again, something intelligible, and tried to grab the other’s arms to stop the flurry of blows. Didn’t work. He couldn’t fuckin’ see anything even with the dim glow of the hesperide still fighting against its binds. 

Fuck it.

Lurching upward, taking whatever damage was dealt as he reached for the ranger’s neck, Rhett tried to wrap an arm around it. Tried to get him in some kind of headlock so he could hook a leg around Kaden’s middle and roll them over, giving him the advantage. Giving him the opportunity to retrieve the knife from his boot. The opportunity to turn the tide of his fight, hopefully. He didn’t kill other hunters, but the ranger was going to die anyway. If he failed to fulfill his debt to the fae, there was a good chance he’d drop dead, given the severity of the situation. So in a way… it was like Rhett was killing him, wasn’t it? Well, might as well put the knife through his eye, then.

The nymph still screamed, the warden still struggled to get a good enough grip on Kaden to execute his plan. It was chaos in the small bunker, chaos in the damn near pitch-black, and Rhett no longer had any sort of advantage on these two.

Damnit, this is why he worked alone.

—

There was nothing but anger and fury guiding him. No sense, no reason, only throbbing knuckles and numbing hands. The warden tried to shield himself, but Kaden wailed away all the same, finding any open spot to hit, to hurt, to harm. Any way to try and make this fucker feel even half the pain he’d just caused Aiden. 

Blind rage left him vulnerable and the warden was ready to exploit it, thrashing and trying to get purchase around Kaden’s neck. Some small lick of sense that hadn’t left the ranger caught the warden twisting down toward his boot. Must be something there. Something useful. Kaden turned and slammed his fist into the warden’s gut, knocking the wind out of him. Then he pitched to the side and brought his boot square down on the man’s knee. That’d make it harder to follow them. 

There was still some speck of light in the man’s eyes when Kaden went back in for a round two, hitting and thrashing at the warden. He almost missed the light fading from those eyes, missed his consciousness falling away. It was easier to just keep throwing punches, even as the body beneath him went limp. 

“Kaden,” a voice echoed through the bunker.

The ranger’s fist stopped mid-air. 

Putain. He could finally see the situation, like the picture was coming back into focus. Shit. Shit. Kaden took a deep breath and tried to steady his own heartbeat before checking on the warden’s pulse. 

Relief and disappointment competed within him when he realized the warden was still alive. Right. Okay. Kaden backed away, pushed himself off the ground with his bloodied hands. He looked over to Aiden. Still there, blood pooling down this back, chained up. He had to get them out. Okay. He could do that.

How? 

Keys. Yeah, keys. He dove into the warden’s pockets, digging around for a way to get him and Aiden the hell out of there. Once those were in hand, he fumbled around trying to figure out which one would free his friend. The whole time, Kaden could barely make eye-contact with the fae. This was his fault. He didn’t know how but he felt it in his bones. Kaden had caused this, brought his friend into danger. He was the reason Aiden was mutilated. He should have stopped it sooner. Should have–

The lock clicked free and the nymph collapsed onto the ground below. Kaden scooped up his friend, helped support his weight as he guided them both to the front door. “I’m sorry,” he mumbled as his friend winced in pain. He said it over and over but it didn’t feel like enough. It wasn’t ever going to be enough. 

He’d worry about that when they were out of this place and he’d called Andy to come pick them up, when they were back home safe and sound. If safe and sound was even an option anymore. 

[kxllerblond]

Kaden 🤝 Clark: oops reached godlike power status without meaning to

[gccdstories]

Too many emotions--and not enough--and Kaden hated the contradiction. Hated it as Elianna pressed into him, and yet craved it all the more, wanted to pull her even closer.

He knew that was just one of the many reason he had to cut that tether, destroy that pull to the past.

But he wasn't going to let her fade, to die, like this.

She didn't get to do that.

Not letting Elianna go, Kaden growled, like words weren't worth it. Like the monster within him held more control in that moment than anything else. Everything in him wanted to rip the realms apart--but if it had a particular focus, Kaden didn't know what it was.

Destruction for destruction's sake, perhaps.

And it wouldn't be the first time, either.

❝ Fine. ❞

It was all he said as he directed them there...

She would have glared, had she enough to move and snap at him. She bizarrely thought of Domandiel, the girl she'd been in her youth. The one that had ripped an upperclassman's ear off for daring to manhandle her.

She pressed further into him, seeking and seeking. Her magic was so far away, her senses dulling. She felt like she hit a wall, everything in her ebbing sway. She felt no anger, no fear...just complacency.

"Autumn. We need - regroup. We have to regroup."

With any luck Odysseus had made contact with someone in the Otherworld to share the news. She'd never been more glad they Poppy had insisted on a home with her people. The Otherworld was no friend to any of the Asteri or Valg.

But they despised being a target even more.

[alan-duarte]

TIMING: Moments after Big Bad Wolf LOCATION: Mistwood Park Cemetery PARTIES: Kaden @chasseurdeloup & Alan @alan-duarte  SUMMARY: Kaden runs into Alan while he takes a naked stroll across a cemetery. CONTENT WARNINGS: n/a

Still recovering from his encounter with a werebear, Alan was confronted to one weirdly specific madeleine de Proust. He hadn’t walked on gravel for so long ever since he was a child. His mother insisted they wore slippers in the house, and Alan, who didn’t want to bother putting on shoes to go get the copy of Something Wicked from the mailbox, would everyday run to it barefoot, as long as the floor was dry, at least. That specific uncomfortable memory brought a slight smile to his face, as he recalled the look she would give him anytime she caught him doing that. 

Yet, no amount of nostalgia could make him stray away for long from the anguish he felt at the moment. No one could see him walking around like this. They’d take him for a homeless man, but in the worst case scenario, someone might recognize him and he would have a great time coming up with a perfectly good excuse. While Alan tried to come up with an excuse that made sense, he didn’t pay too much attention to his surroundings anymore, focused as he was on the sight of his car in the short distance, and the made up scenarios his head was coming up with then. 

_ 

“Goddamn cat in a goddamn tree. Putain de merde,” Kaden grumbled to himself as he trudged away from the woods, cat carrier in hand and covered in scratches. His truck was close and he was ready to get this brat back to her owner so that they could get scratched and hissed at. He was so aggravated that he almost missed the chills shooting down his spine. Almost. Kaden stopped in his tracks, trying to pinpoint where it was coming from. The wave of discomfort through him was strong, there was no way this was just a beast that had run out from the woods. This had to be a werewolf. The cat hissed through his plastic prison. He should really have taken that as a sign to just ignore it, walk back to his truck and be done. Instead, Kaden turned and headed towards the source of his hunter senses.

He wasn’t sure what he expected to find when we made it out from the cluster of trees and towards the parking lot, but it wasn’t a naked guy. One that wasn’t half bad lo– Wait. Naked. Hunter senses. Putain. “Need any help?” he called out. A snarl came from the cat carrier. “Shush,” he said to the cat, tapping the top of the carrier as if that was going to help his case. “You’ll get home eventually, alright?”

_ 

He should have heard him coming. Alan knew that, but between the overwhelming stench of that sleeping bag she had given him (he realized he didn't know her name still and took note of asking her about it later on) and the fact that he was too focused on the millions of thoughts running through him then, he just didn't.

His phone and his car keys in one hand, the other bundling up his makeshift, stinky, polyester toga, Alan might have thought too early that victory was around the corner, which really was something he, of all people, shouldn't have fallen for. Desperate times really did their number on him.

While he reflected on how pathetic he must have looked to the other, who, of course had to be some handsome, Men's Health cover worthy man. 

It's fine Alan, just… turn the situation around, make yourself look like you're in charge. 

Of course. Of course. He could do that.

"By the looks of it, you're the one who needs help. What's wrong with that cat ?" Okay, not so bad. Just deflect.

The Maserati was just a few feet away, but then, so was his license plate. Would this guy manage to memorize it, and find out his name this way ? No. Of course not. And Alan figured that he could just ruin the dude's life if he did. 

"Just heading back to my car. I guess I must be getting too old for parties, huh?" 

_ 

Before coming to Wicked’s Rest, this would be an easy decision: hunt the werewolf. Of course, he’d wait until confirming that this man was in fact a werewolf before going straight to stabbing. Now Kaden didn’t know what his plan was. He definitely didn’t want to kill anyone who wasn’t a danger to others, but if he was a danger, it wasn’t as if he could sit idly by. It wasn’t even a full  moon. Or nighttime. How– why did it look like he had transformed recently? He would have to approach this carefully. 

Kaden was about to ask another question. Instead, his brows furrowed, looking down at the still hissing cat when the other man mentioned it. “It’s fine it was just–” The hunter caught himself before he continued.  “Hey, we’re not talking about me right now. I’m not the one walking out of the woods with a sleeping bag wrapped around him. Pretty sure you’re in the more questionable situation here.”

His eyes narrowed even more at the mention of a party. The cat slammed into the side of the crate, making it rattle in his hands. “Putain de merde,” he muttered as he put the crate down. He’d deal with whiskers later, he had to focus right now. “A party, huh? Must have been a fun night if this is the aftermath.” He approached the man, folding his arms across his chest, his hunter senses spiking with each slow step. 

_ 

"And why exactly are we talking about me ?" Alan knew that in this instant, he was being perhaps a bit too bold for someone who wore a sleeping bag as his only shield. "I am just trying to get back to my car, get home and get in the shower," anyone could relate to that, surely : having partied a bit too hard, woken up in an uncomfortable position with your mouth sticky and your whole body aching. Not that it was his case but this guy surely would relate? Right?

And if not, there was always option B : making the stranger uncomfortable, or option C : giving the stranger a good scare. Except that he really didn't want to do that. Going through his transformation process twice in just a few minutes was awful enough, he didn't want to have to go through it again. They said the pain diminished over time, Alan was convinced you just got used to it.

While he studied his options, Alan tragically walked closer to the other man, without knowing how much trouble that meant for him, all in the hopes to get his hands on the bag he kept in the trunk of his car. Car key in hand (those were a lot sturdier than his clothes, thank god), he clicked the button, if only to show that he was a legit person and not some homeless person who took naps in cemetery crypts. 

"Maybe I could invite you to my next party, if you're able to keep your mouth shut about it." A terrible idea if there ever was one. Alan didn't like parties, at least, those sorts of parties.

_ 

“Cause you’re the one of us risking indecent exposure here,” Kaden said. “One wrong move and that sleeping bag’s not gonna hold.” The sleeping bag was probably the least of his worries. One wrong move and Kaden was going to be face to face with a werewolf. There was still no telling what kind he was dealing with. Sure, they were all out of control but some were a lot more murderous than others. And he really wanted to learn a little more about that before this guy hopped in his car and sped away. He needed to know if he should go looking in the woods nearby for a body.

“Uh huh.” Kaden blinked, still trying to figure out how to go about this part of the hunt – if it was a hunt at all. “Not sure those are my kind of parties.” He tried to see if he could catch any glimpses of blood on the man, glancing at his fingernails, on the sleeping bag itself. It didn’t look clean, but it didn’t look blood soaked, he’d give it that. Kaden was well aware that didn’t instantly make this guy safe to be around necessarily; he still didn’t know a whole lot one way or the other. He just knew that he was a werewolf and that he seemingly was walking back from a wolfy romp in the woods.

The hunters' brows furrowed. “How’d your car get out here? I mean, crazy party where you ended up blacked out and naked. That’s a pretty convenient spot for your car given all that.”

_ 

“If that ever happens, the only correct answer is thank you,” he gave the other one of his cockiest grins yet, which was perhaps a bit bold, considering the state he was in. 

He clicked on his car keys, triggering his automatic trunk as well. “I have a change in the car, don’t worry. This isn’t my first rodeo,” but for all he seemed absolutely fine with the conversation they were having, a little voice in the back of his head was begging, quietly, to put an end to his misery. 

“Really? What are your kind of parties?” Alan sat on the edge of the trunk then, carefully blocking the duvet with one hand while he reached down to get his hands on the backpack in there, pulling it to the edge for the other to see. See, not a weirdo. “Do you mind? I don’t actively want to flash you, so if you could just turn around.” A pair of boxers in hand, he paid the animal control guy a look. Why did he have so many questions to ask him? Out of all people, why did he have to stumble on Hercule Poirot. “The cemetery is a short cut,” he assured him. “I don’t want to park her somewhere where she’ll end up dented or worse,” that much was true. Catch him park at the end of the supermarket’s parking lot so that Karen wouldn’t scratch his paint trying to fit a stroller between his car and her god awful minivan. 

_ 

It took Kaden a second to follow what the guy meant by his comment, but he rolled his eyes once he pieced it together. His checks were also weirdly warm. Must have been the sun. Either way, he sighed and turned around to let the guy change. If he wasn’t already certain that he was dealing with a werewolf, the change of clothes ready to go in his car would have tipped Kaden off.

“I try and avoid parties if I’m being honest,” he said with his back turned. Putain, this was stupid, turning his back on a werewolf. No self respecting hunter worth their fucking salt would ever just turn away and give the monster the advantage. A pit dropped in his stomach. The word monster. It felt strange to even think that after everything. Guess old habits died hard. “A short cut, huh?” he said, peeking back to see if the coast was clear to face forward again. He’d sure used that excuse before. “Guess you really did prepare for everything.” The cat in the carrier yowled at him from the ground, as if telling him to get the fuck out of there already. 

_ 

Alan pursed his lips, if only to conceal his amusement. It was never boring to watch a grown adult blush although he would never feel happier today than then, as he put his boxers on, at last. “You can look again,” he pointed out, while he folded the duvet carefully. Old habits died hard, and he couldn’t stand his stuff getting wrinkles and folds. Nevermind that this was one of the ugliest, stinkiest, polysteriest sleeping bags he ever touched. 

“That’s what I said,” he confirmed, reaching into his bag to get his hands on an old t-shirt from university. Putting it over his head, he smoothed out eventual wrinkles (did he mention how he didn’t like those yet?) and went on with a pair of shorts, a cardigan, his socks and finally, a pair of trainers that were only good for getting the trash out. “I suppose. It’s an old habit of mine. Always be prepared for anything,” he had some other survival kits in his car that were less aimed at his lycantropy and more with waiting for the tow to arrive, for instance. 

_ 

Kaden exhaled the tension he’d been holding onto as he turned back to face the man and his truck. Interesting to see him put the sleeping bag away so carefully, to the point that Kaden had to wonder if this was a frequent player in whatever wolf shit he was up to. Right, given how ratty it was, he was pretty sure he was better off not knowing.

The hunter squinted as he tried to make out what was on the other man’s tee shirt. “Air force academy?” he said. Interesting. Kaden wasn’t entirely sure what to make of it, a werewolf who had been to the Air Force Academy, but it would explain some of this. Maybe. The being prepared part, perhaps. “Lucky habit to have I suppose.”

_ 

Nice reading comprehension. Alan’s eyebrows raised, and he looked down at his tee to double check on it. “That was a while ago,” you could tell his shirt had been in the washing machine several times over. You could also tell from the love handles on his waist. Running around the woods sure helped him get the recommended 8000 steps recommended by WHO, but was it enough compared to his appetite? 

“I have something similar at my house. They always told us we should be able to be operational in less than a minute back then,” and so he always had a suitcase packed with the essentials just in case something came up. But for all he liked being prepared, that suitcase had only been here ever since he was turned into a monster. With a slight smile, Alan looked up at the animal control officer, shielding his eyes from the sun with his hand. “Pardon my curiosity,” it was only fair. The other was one second away from asking for his social security number at this point, “but you’re not from around here, are you? I could swear I am spotting an accent here.” 

_ 

Kaden was considering it might be just about time to walk away since his detective work was clearly lacking, but then the man turned the conversation back on him. He was about to ask how this guy knew all that already but then the answer came. Right. His accent, of course. “Forgot about that for a second. But yeah, I’m from France.” He expected that the rest of the usual questions would follow so he might as well volunteer the basics. “Been here a few months. My cousins live in town so I’m staying with them for the moment.” Hopefully not for forever. Sure, it was nice not being alone but he also wanted a mattress to call his own someday. 

_ 

“Really? That’s exciting !” Alan had never been there, although he supposed it was one of those places you had to visit. He was drawn to Paris, but while he first researched werewolves, had found some stories dating back to Middle Ages France that had made him eager to visit Gévaudan. “Are you liking it here so far? Aside from this morning’s naked weirdo, I suppose?” He offered an apologetic smile and stood up to shut the trunk closed. 

“You’re living with your cousins,” he repeated, one eyebrow raising. This guy looked certainly old enough to detest having roommates, even if they were family, and Alan figured this could be a way to buy his silence regarding today’s incident. “I work in real estate. You should pay me a visit sometimes,” a pause. “If you were willing to tell no one about this, I might be able to offer a sizable discount,” he scratched at the corner of his nose, a slow smile spreading on his lips. 

_ 

“I guess so,” Kaden replied, his brows pinching together in confusion. It seemed odd to call fleeing from his home exciting but he wasn’t exactly about to get into that with the guy who was wandering around the woods wrapped in a well-worn sleeping bag and nothing else. 

“I am,” he affirmed, crossing his arms across his chest. Something felt wrong about cluing a werewolf into where he lived, possibly endangering Andy and Al–

His breath caught in his throat. Right. Alex. A werewolf already knew where he lived. She lived there, too. Kaden swallowed back the lump in his throat. The mention of real estate pulled the hunter out of his own mind. “That so?” he replied, arms slowly loosening their grip against one another. A place of his own. It was enticing. He loved his family but he missed having his own place. And his own mattress. His back missed that one the most. “Not sure I can afford much even with a discount.” He wasn’t destitute, sure, but there was a reason he was crashing on a couch. “Guess it doesn’t hurt to visit. I assume that’s not what you wear to the office.”

_ 

“Of course,” Alan raised his eyebrows. He really didn’t want anyone to find out about this. Sure enough, he liked to pretend to be above all that, but he didn’t take criticism too well. People talking about him behind his back was something he was used to, but he somehow drew the line at people criticizing his sense of style. He had disposed of shoes or ties before because his ears caught something they should not have. 

“We’ll see I suppose, I’m sure we’ll figure it out,” he offered a commercial worthy smile, holding out his hand. “It was nice meeting you,” he didn’t comment on his work clothes. It was best to leave this on a pleasant note, surely?

[howdy-cowpoke]

TIMING: Promptly following ‘Horse those Shoes’ LOCATION: Prickly Pear Acres PARTIES: Monty (@howdy-cowpoke), Kaden (@chasseurdeloup), & Wynne (@ohwynne) SUMMARY: Wynne rushes after Kaden and Monty to free the horses from the burning stable. CONTENT WARNINGS: animal death

—

The raucous voices died down, and for the few short seconds between joy and panic, time stretched on in a silent, airless vacuum. Monty’s gaze was drawn toward a flickering source of light, the golden-orange glow reflecting in his dark eyes as he followed its path up the side of one of the barns. Smoke billowed into the sky, nearly imperceptible in the dark. 

There was a shout. He blinked, shaking his head. Another shout. More light, more hissing flames, licking at the base of a different building. He couldn’t quite comprehend what he was seeing, trapped in a state of shock as the fire grew. “... oh,” he breathed, suddenly coming back into himself. His voice was ripped from his throat, lost in the cacophony of screams that started up as more people started to realize what was going on. 

He thought of Habanero, held hostage in his own stall. He felt sick. His feet were moving before he even made the conscious decision to run, abandoning his party guests to sprint to the horse stables. The same fear that had held him in a vice grip that night of the slaughter threatened to close its fist around his throat again now, but that was okay. He didn’t need to breathe, after all. 

Shouldering his way through the doors, Monty burst onto a terrifying scene. Fire everywhere, eating them from the outside in. Horses reared in their stalls, shrieking in terror as the heat of the fire threatened to singe their manes and tails. The farmer did not stop, going to the nearest stall first: Taro’s. He ripped open the latch and flung open the door, shouting at the animal before moving on to the next. Manzanita, then Habanero. Romero and Pimienta—their cries were the loudest before falling completely silent, and Monty could not force himself to look longer than a few seconds. They were lost. He let Manzanita loose, shouting to scare her out the way he’d come, then got into Habanero’s stall. The stallion was kicking and swinging his head around, and Monty struggled to get a handle on his mane. He gave a command in Spanish and the horse attempted to listen, calming himself enough to be dragged out of the stall as the hay caught fire. “¡Vamos a salir de aquí, vamonos!” Monty bellowed as he threw himself onto the animal’s back, scrambling to get properly seated in a graceless panic. It was then that he realized wasn’t alone—Kaden and Wynne had intercepted the two other horses as they’d come bursting out of the burning stable. 

What did he do? Where did they go? There were so many more to save, so many—

—

The smell of fire reminded them of home for a short moment. Celebrations were always combined with fire, after all — with candles and bonfires, crackling and warm. But this was not the kind of fire that came with celebration, even if that was what they were all here for. Wynne fought memories of dancing around a fire as sounds of panicked people joined the fray and now they were no longer at Moosehead, but thinking of the barn that Zack had set on fire. 

Their legs moved before their mind did, rushing to the stable they were nearest to. It didn’t make sense, what was happening, but it wasn’t part of the party program, that they knew. What they knew as well, was that the stables held animals and that they would be damned before letting the fire get to them. (Their mind traveled to sacrifices made onto an open fire.) 

From the stable burst a horse, then another and they rushed towards the smaller one. Someone else, in the periphery of their vision went for the other horse. Wynne did not remember its name, but they did recognize the hunter rushing to the horse — Kaden! They wanted to shout something but did not know what, so instead they met Taro head on, not cooing about how big the horse had gotten but instead trying to calm it, trying to get it to trust them as they shushed at it, extending their hands and taking hold of their mane.

They hadn’t been riding as regularly as they had once had, but muscle memory and adrenaline were particularly useful in moments like these, so they took hold of the manes, vowed to apologize to Taro later for pulling at them and swung themself onto the horse. Their eyes were frantic as they looked at Kaden, who had interrupted the other horse, and then grew even wider in size at the sight of Monty exiting the barn on his horse. “Where do we go?” Their voice was louder than they had anticipated it to be. They held onto the end of Taro’s mane, not certain enough of what was happening to take the lead.

—

Kaden couldn’t say if he heard, saw, or smelled the fire first. It was like it all hit him at once, slowing time and sending it racing ahead somehow simultaneously. He didn’t know what was happening, he couldn’t quite fit the pieces of the puzzle together, but he did know where Monty was headed. Without a word or a second glance, he knew that the cowboy was running into the stables and Kaden was running right behind him. If anything had been in the way, he hadn’t noticed, dodging around it, ignoring any of the shouts and commotion in the meantime. He knew his partner was laser focused on getting to the stables and so, in turn, he was headed to the exact same place. 

He didn’t know what he expected to see once he followed through the doors, his mind racing with the memories of the last time they’d sprinted in here in a blind panic, but he hoped it would be okay. Or something as close to that as it could be while the flames licked at the walls and consumed the dry hay all around them, while the horses screamed and thrashed at their stalls in fear. He told himself that the fact they were alive and screaming was a good sign. It was hard to believe that while the smoke threatened to cloud his lungs. 

“Monty!” he shouted before pulling his shirt up to cover his mouth, to try and keep the stinging out of his eyes and nose. The only answer he got was the sight of Manzanita and Taro tearing out of the barn doors. Merde. “Woah,” he shouted, putting his hands up in the air to try and calm the amber coated horse enough to keep her in place for just a second while he got his bearings. 

Putain, right, there were two horses here. And Monty surely had Habanero to deal with. Panic seized Kaden as he looked around for an answer — a lead or a rope or another person or… 

Wynne. 

The relief he felt seeing them swing themselves onto Taro was short lived given everything happening around them. There was no time. Kaden pulled himself onto Manzanita’s back, glad that he was more than familiar riding her at this point. He wasn’t used to riding bareback with no reins, no sense of control, but he could feel that the animal trusted him despite the fear burning in her belly. 

Monty joined them, tearing out of the barn on the back of the bay stallion. And Kaden realized he was waiting to see Romero and Pimienta joining them. Only there were no more hooves clip-clopping after the cowboy, just screaming in the barn behind him. Kaden clamped down on the emotions rising up like bile. The other two on their horses were looking around, darting and trying to figure out what was next. It was on him. He was going to tell them what was next. He could do this. He had to be calm for all six of them. 

The hunter’s eyes darted around them, chaos and fire were everywhere. The whole thing sounded far too familiar, just like that night months ago when the slaughter occurred. He couldn’t think about that now. Right now, he had to find the path ahead. “This way,” he shouted as he egged Manzanita on, doing what he could to help steer her through the people and flames up towards the high ground across the way. He hoped that Wynne and Monty were close behind. And that they didn’t get distracted by the chaos along the way. They could cut back to help the rest once the horses were safe. They could, right? They had to. That was the plan. He had a plan. There had to be a plan.

—

Three. Just three. There was a terrible ringing in his ears as Monty took in the frightful scene around them, watching as livestock spilled out onto the farm, set loose from their barns by other farm hands but with no one to guide them. He followed Kaden’s command, glad that the hunter had his wits about him enough to direct them. The sheep and cows that were closest to them and spotted the three figures on horseback were quick to follow after them. 

“We need to get the far gate open!” Monty shouted over the chaos. It was in the direction they were headed, if they took a hard left once they crested the hill. He kicked his heels into Habanero’s sides, gripping the stallion’s mane and keeping himself bent low. Riding bareback was not new to him — back then, back when things were so very, very different, his family had not been able to afford saddles for their horses. It was always just a blanket draped over their back and a bond of trust formed with the animal that would allow them to be guided by their mane alone. Such a bond existed between Monty and Habanero now, so the cowboy had no trouble using his steed to round up the livestock that were flocking to them and drive them down the left side of the hill toward the road. 

“Hold this position,” he said to Kaden and Wynne as he rode up between them, finally feeling his fear turn to determination and pointing toward the perimeter fence. “They will follow. Let the livestock run free, we can — we can gather them later. I will go get the gate open!” With another shout and nudge of his heels, he and Habanero were galloping down the hill toward the fence. The zombie tried to lose as little momentum as possible as he dismounted and half sprinted, half fell towards the gate, unlatching it in one fluid motion and throwing it open with his body weight. He whistled for Habanero, pushing the gate all the way open and catching the horse again as he came to a stop in front of him. “Good boy, there, it’s okay,” he tried to comfort the animal, rubbing his neck as he watched Wynne and Kaden come tearing down the hill after him, a small flock of animals in tow. They burst through the opening and spilled out onto the road, many of the animals continuing their flight either down the road toward the Pines or into neighboring fields. It was okay, as long as they were away from the fire. 

—

Animals died. This was a truth Wynne had been confronted with before they formed memories — such was the life on a farm. There were baby chickens that didn’t make it to adulthood and those that did, only to be killed and eaten all the same. There were those cyclical deaths that were part of organic life, but there were also those creatures laid on an altar to die. Those that wailed when their throats were slit or twisted. The horses left in the barn sounded similar to them and it was hard to shut either of the sounds out – both that of memory and that of what was happening at present.

Taro’s instinct was a driving force as much as their panic, and the pair followed Kaden. Animals died, but some lived, and they would make sure Taro would be one of them. Perhaps the sheep and cows would too. Once Monty appeared on Habanero, looking so very in place on top of a horse, they did not doubt one second when he told them and Kaden to wait. It seemed counterintuitive to hold when there was fire at their backs and two panicked animals beneath them, but this was Monty’s farm, and they had always responded well to authority. It seemed there were some situations where blind compliance was a good thing.

Wynne looked over their shoulder fretfully as their fingers drew circles on Taro’s neck, eyes dancing over the large number of animals following Kaden and them — or more likely, the horses they were riding. They tried not to think about all the people on the farm. Ariadne was there but hopefully she'd find her way out through the astral, though instinct told them that she'd not so soon abandon the farm. But there was nothing they could do now, was there? They had chosen to rush to the horses and now their goal was clear as day: to get these animals away from the licking flames. When they looked ahead again, they saw Monty had opened the gate and glanced at Kaden, “Let’s go,” they said, sounding more determined than they felt.

Taro was quick to get back into action and Wynne was glad that the young horse was so clever and hadn’t thrown them off his back yet, even if they had never ridden her before and the world was a place that warranted panic. All of them rushed down the hill, pouring out into the world beyond Prickly Pears and Taro followed the sheep before Wynne tugged at his mane, “C’mon, we need to —” They looked over their shoulder, trying to steer Taro to Monty at the side of the road. Eventually the three of them reconvened, the smells of sheep and fire mingling. “What do we do now? What about the other – we should — why is there fire?”

—

Waiting was hard. Not just for Kaden, but Manzanita, too. She wanted to get away from the danger, go as far away as possible and he couldn’t blame her. The ranger was thankful that the mare was good natured enough to stay and to listen. It felt like an eternity waiting for Monty to swing the gate open, even though he was a blur on the way there. The smoke kept getting thicker and darker, the screaming was louder and as the buildings began to collapse and the world seemed to be falling apart all around them, the chaos only grew. Kaden knew that meant he had to remain steady. He had to hold on and not just to the horse.

The mare was practically dancing on her toes by the time the gate swung open. Kaden nodded for Wynne to head through. There were some sheep and goats screeching down the way, not far off from the gate. They had no idea where to go or what to do, only to go away from the fire. The hunter took a deep breath and hoped that the mare he had helped bring to this farm all those months ago would help get some more of the animals to freedom. His heart sank as he thought about that first day, the sight of her running through that gate behind him and into the pasture, how it looked like freedom. There was no freedom left for her here, not for any of them. The only freedom was out, was away. 

Kaden couldn’t think about that now. He had to act now. “Head forward, through the gate!” he shouted to Wynne as he egged Manzanita back down towards the straggling livestock. He wasn’t a cowboy by any means and he was nowhere near as skilled on horseback as his partner, but he was good enough to clumsily round up a couple of the other animals. He shouted, tried to steer them in the right direction and he managed to get a few of them to start following Wynne. 

It wasn’t enough. They couldn’t save them all. Kaden couldn’t think about that now. It had to be enough. He shot through the gate and met up with Wynne. The road wasn’t far and he could see people panicked, scrambling and cars squealing away. Some of the hands were trying to help find some sort of calm in the midst of it all, but it was nothing but panic. Once they were close, Kaden slid off Manzanita’s back and pulled out his belt to use it as a makeshift lead draped gently around her neck. 

Wynne’s question was the same as his: what now? What next? He looked back down to where the farm was being consumed by flames and a realization stabbed him in the chest. He set his eyes on his partner and he knew without a doubt that he wasn’t going to stay there on the road with the rest. Not yet. “I’ll do what I can here,” he said with a nod, trying to keep his voice from asking. “You get the rest.” Even if he wasn’t sure if there was any “rest,” if there were more animals and people that could be saved. He knew Monty would have to try.  

“Start getting names, we’ll figure out who’s missing. We’ll get ropes or belts for something to hold the horses and try to herd any of the animals we can. Get people to calm down,” he said to Wynne, laying out the plan as much for him as he was for them. “We’ll go from there.” He hoped it would be enough. 

—

Wynne asked why there was fire, and Monty couldn’t bring himself to answer. It was the same reason he could hear screams on the wind, the same reason he was pretty sure he’d heard a gunshot as he’d kicked in the door on Habanero’s stall. He just blinked, his fear catching up to him for a moment while Kaden spoke. Shaking his head, Monty squeezed his eyes shut for a moment, then nodded. “Sí. Okay. Wynne—you stay here, help Kaden. I will go find Aria, and I will send her this way.” He gave their shoulder a squeeze, his throat tight as he turned his attention to Kaden again. He looked for all the world like he was about to break down, but instead only clenched his jaw and blinked again. “Thank you,” he managed to force out, rocking forward onto his toes to give him a brief but poignant kiss. In case… the worst happened. It wasn’t an impossibility. 

With that, Monty turned back around and ran through the open gate and back up the hill toward the main house, redirecting anyone he saw along the way to the road where he’d left Kaden and Wynne. He spotted Aria in the distance and breathed a sigh of relief, hurrying in her direction. He needed to get the dogs out of the house just beyond her, and hopefully she could guide them to the road for him. He’d make as many trips as he could until someone forced him to stay behind, or he’d die trying to save his people and his animals. He knew that. Kaden knew that. It was the reason he’d thanked him — it wasn’t an easy choice, but he’d known well enough to make it while there was still time. While there was still hope. 

“Mija!” he called to the girl, waving a hand in the air. Thank god she was still okay.

[neveraftcr-a]

closed for @thegcldenhours​ // continued from here

          “ just curious exactly how long you waited after telling me you’d wait. ”  though he did know it wasn’t a fair request from him, he couldn’t have left without asking her. but she agreed and he’d been naive enough to believe her.  “ do you love them? ”

[bastardfae]

“i get where you’re coming from, pops,” arnon knew better than to throw all of kaden’s well-intentioned advice right out the window. the kresnik knew what he was talking about even if arnon was happy to shrug it off. “bad man does bad things, tale as old as time or whatever–” he lightly kicked at the back of kaden’s chair with a scoff of laughter, slouching further down to hide his amusement from kaden’s immediate attention. “–but ‘s all good, really, i mean it.” and if it wasn’t? he’d deal with it, whatever form that came in. what other choice was there? “you don’t gotta worry about me. i can take care of myself jus’ fine, even against princess halloran.” arnon felt a pang of fond familiarity as he stole a glance out of the window, the approaching sight of the station bringing back a wealth of memories – most of them clear, some of them considerably less so. “thanks for giving a shit, though. means a lot that someone still does. don’t dwell on it too much though, yeah? you’ve got enough to deal with now that you’ve got your big boy temporary situation to be goin’ prematurely grey over– does it count as prematurely when you’re already old as shit? respectfully, i mean.” there’d be plenty of time to get into the finer details once they were inside; for now, arnon was happy to warm kaden back up to the usual tempo of their exchanges.

"It's not a promotion it's a temporary situation," Kaden corrected Arnon with a brief glare in the rearview mirror at the dig to his boss. Was Ransom's situation entirely the chief's own fault? Yes. Did Kaden think the punishment was just? Yes... and no. He didn't like Krovs to begin with, wouldn't be here if he had a choice in the matter. He firmly believed people came here to kill their morals considering all the power and corruption the councilmen oozed out from their comfy little thrones on top of the mountain. "That still doesn't mean he won't hurt you," the kresnik pointed out, gaze softening now. "I've seen what some of these masters will do and some of it ain't pretty. You should ask Finn Winchester what Bradbury did to him for tryin' to escape and Bradbury ain't even a councilman. I don't want to see you in these situations where your safety is further at stake with Halloran's claws so tight around your throat."

[bountyhaunter]

TIMING: Before the farm fire PARTIES: @chasseurdeloup & @bountyhaunter LOCATION: The 3 daggers SUMMARY: Kaden and Daiyu look at the bounties! They also communicate very well. CONTENT: Allusions to hunter upbringings.

Kaden hadn’t walked this path in a while but it felt just as familiar under his feet. The hunter bar was tucked away in a barn, hard to find if you didn’t know where to look, and had once been a small comfort to the ranger. He knew from the moment he stepped foot in Wicked’s Rest that his hunting habits weren’t going to match most others in town, but there was a camaraderie in a place like that all the same. It was something familiar in a way that felt safe enough to indulge in when he first got to town. The more connections he made, the less he went and he’d all but exiled himself from it when he learned what Monty was. It made him too anxious to know that any number of the patrons there wouldn’t hesitate to kill his partner without a second thought. 

Funny to think the reason he was showing up now was on his behalf. Not that it was what Monty wanted or asked him to do, but Kaden couldn’t sit back and not investigate. Not after what happened with the animals. If there was any lead on who could be doing this shit, he couldn’t let it sit uninvestigated. 

The ranger inhaled deeply, letting the breath fill his lungs and sit there a moment before huffing it out and swinging the doors open. The bar was unchanged from the last time he’d been there months and months ago. Couldn’t say he was surprised. Kaden knew he should probably go to the bar first, get a drink, make himself less suspicious, but he went straight to the bounty board. He had to know what was there, he had to know if someone in this very bar was trying to orchestrate the downfall of everything his partner had worked to build. 

Kaden was so focused that the side of his arm collided into someone’s shoulder. “Sorry,” he muttered to the person seemingly headed in the same direction. Normally he’d step aside and let them go first but this was a matter of–

Hold on. He knew this person. Putain de merde. Just his fucking luck. “Hey, Daiyu,” he said, trying to position himself in a way that she couldn’t dart past him to the board before he could get a good look. “Good seeing you again. How’s it going? Less snow werewolves I’m assuming.”

—

She’d garnered a bit of a reputation with the people at the 3 Daggers by now. Daiyu was the short, fiery hunter that often hopped in with a duffel bag filled with some kind of proof of a bounty succeeded. Mark knew her order by heart at this point (it was easy, admittedly — she always wanted a coke, preferably cherry) and she’d found herself building a back-and-forth with a few of the regulars.

The bar was a nice reprieve in Wicked’s Rest, even if it brought some complicated feelings at the same time — but that seemed to go for everything Daiyu did anyway. Nothing was ever simple, no matter how much she tried to simplify it in her mind. Still, she kept coming back. To find new bounties, to collect rewards, to rub elbows with some hunters and to eat a bit after a long trek in the woods.

Today she needed a new challenge. And a cherry coke, of course, but that was something she’d already gotten a hold of. She was moving towards the bounty board now, yelling something over her shoulder at one of the few hunters her age in the bar, “I’ll hold you to that Anton! I’ll get a whiteboard up here and we’ll tally it and I’ll prove you once and for all that I’m better at hunting hellhounds.” 

She was grinning as she moved over, but then an arm hit her in the shoulder. Daiyu angled her head up (she had to do that a lot — she missed Jade, her fellow short-gal hunter) and looked at Kaden. Her grin grew a little wider. “Better look out where you’re going, big guy,” she said, demonstratively rubbing her shoulder as if she hadn’t also bumped into him. It seemed he was heading to the board too, which made her feel a hint of frustration. Kaden had seemed like a good ranger, and she really didn’t need the competition. 

“Oh, totally awesome, with me. Snow werewolf season has ended, but I’m gunning for some pollen monsters next. Like a pollen lamia or siren or something, could be cool,” she said, speaking rapidly. Kaden was very tall and built, so she couldn’t catch any sight of the board. “Don’t see you around here much. Nice to see you though — you doing good as well?” She tried to look past him, but couldn’t. “Gonna have a try at killing Flappin Flann’?” It was one of her life goals. She hated the idea of Kaden succeeding where she hadn’t yet, and not just because he was taller than her. “It’s impossible, man.”

—

For how short she was in comparison, it was still hard to block her from the board without being obvious. Kaden didn’t want to dodge left and right with every crane of her neck and tip his hand. Not without knowing a little more about her first. “Pollen monsters?” he asked, brow raised, wondering if she was joking or not. Sure it sounded implausible but that didn’t mean shit in Wicked’s Rest. He never thought he’d see a snow werewolf either so who was to say a fucking pollen siren wasn’t on the table. “Going to hope that remains theoretical. I don’t want to keep fucking sneezing while trying to stab something. Sounds like hell.”

Kaden tried to get a closer look at what was on the board, eyes skimming frantically for anything about zombies, gatlin fields, a farm, anything at all. Right, he should probably try to be casual and not a panicked goddamn mess. He took a breath and looked back at Daiyu. “Yeah, I don’t get out much anymore. Guess I’m boring like that. Or something. But fine, I’ve been fine. Really fine.” He hadn’t nearly died and then watched as half the farm animals and Prickly Pears got slaughtered on the same night. Not at all. He was fine. Which is why he was so eager to find any listings that might be of interest. Because he was fine.

“Flapping what?” He snapped his head to look at her, almost forgetting that they were in a conversation. “What’s that? Is it undead?” Putain, that was stupid to ask. They were both rangers. Not that he didn’t  hunt outside of his specialty often enough and he had to assume she did as well, especially if she survived off of bounties. “I mean, not that it– I just hadn’t heard of it before so figured it might not be a beast. All that.” 

—

“Oh, yeah,” she said, nodding, “Totally theoretical, but like, not entirely implausible, am I right? We’ve had snow monsters, so they’re absolutely next.” She turned towards the other ranger a little so she could more easily talk to him, even though he was much too tall to stand next to comfortably. Daiyu grinned regardless. “You know, I’ve heard that being allergic to pollen is just a character deficit. I personally would not sneeze once when confronted with a pollen monster, because I’m built better.”

It seemed Kaden was desperate for a bounty, which would be understandable if it weren’t for the fact that he had a proper job and everything. “Eh, not going out doesn’t make you boring. I don’t count this as going out, anyway, though I guess stuff can get pretty heated and shit here when the hour’s late.” She shrugged. “But cool, glad that you’re doing fine.” Though she didn’t know Kaden very well, he seemed like an alright bloke and a good hunter. Daiyu didn’t want him to be doing bad or whatever. Just common courtesy.

She stared at him for a moment, raising a brow, “Bro.” She turned toward the board, scanning it quickly before pointing up and jumping to tap one of the postings. “Squonk. Big fucking squonk. It’s my life goal to cash this bounty. It’s been here since I’ve been here, apparently for a long fucking time … how d’you not know about Flappy? Notorious creature, that one.” She scrunched her face up. “Gets people trapped in its flaps and all. Not at all like –” She probably shouldn’t mention that she had a pet squonk now, so she redirected her sentence. “– most other squonks.” 

—

“I’m going to hope they stay theoretical in that ca— Hey!” Kaden spun to face her. Was she calling him deficient? “It’s not a character deficit. Or defect. It’s just…” Right, what was it? “I don’t know, genetics or something.” Then again, couldn’t allergies be treated or something? He thought he’d heard something about shots from someone. Probably other hunters talking about if they could build up immunity to other kinds of monsters if they treated them like allergy shots. Kaden was pretty sure that experiment failed, come to think of it. “You’re not built better, you can barely even see the board.”

That didn’t stop her from jumping up to point out the listing for Flappy. If he was feeling generous, he would have complimented her on it. Instead, he crossed his arms as he listened to her. He expected a harrowing tale passed down by some pissed off hunter years ago. He didn’t expect it to be—

“A squonk?” The word practically stuck on the lump in his throat. It had been a long time since Kaden thought about squonks. A very long time. He tried to keep the word “wrinkles” from floating to the front of his mind, but it was impossible to suppress. The memory pushed its way to the forefront without permission every damn time. He shook away the image of the knife slicing through wrinkled flesh and the sounds of pitiful squealing, opting instead to get a better look at the bounty in question.

It really was for a fucking squonk of all things. “Wait, you’re telling me a squonk is a notorious threat? A squonk.” He repeated it like it was something one of them didn’t understand about this exchange. “You know, a squonk. The wr— flappy dog looking monsters that can barely harm a fly? They just cry all the time. The worst they can do to you is get you a little soggy and salty. How the hell are people getting caught in its flaps?” No matter how many times he read it over and tried to make it make sense, it just didn’t seem right. 

Kaden rubbed a palm down his face. “Someone is really trying to kill an innocen— harmless squonk? Really? Putain de merde, the hunters around here clearly need to get a hobby. There’s way more dangerous game to go after for fucks sake.” Was he really going to have to find this thing to try and protect it from the bounty hunters in the area?

Right. He caught a glance of Daiyu and turned to look at her properly. Would he have to protect it from her? “You haven’t tried to go after him, have you? I mean, have you seen him?”

—

“Bad genetics are just a character deficit,” Daiyu said, looking up at him with a challenging expression. It was typical hunter talk — or rather, it was typical Volkov talk, though she lacked the insight to realize that. To think herself somehow above other rangers for something like a certain surname had been instilled in her from a young age, and even though she was good at breaking things, breaking that habit had yet prove unsuccessful. “I don’t need to be taller to read what’s on the board. You’re just absurdly tall.”

She took in Kaden’s reaction with a bit of surprise, noting the way he wasn’t aware of the threat this particular squonk posted and how he called it innocent. Fries was a harmless squonk, mostly — the creature was definitely doing some kind of water damage to the hardwood floors of her rented cabin, though. 

“Yes, I know what a squonk is, and I’m telling you — this one is not like the others. It’s like …” She frowned for a moment. “What King Kong is to gorillas, you know? And man, that must be a horrible way to go. Just getting stuck in those sticky, wet flaps and slowly suffocating. I’d prefer to get mauled for sure.” It was the end that befit a ranger and Daiyu was often surprised it hadn’t happened yet. Her body wore the proof that it, too, was surprised. “It’s far from harmless, though. People died, Kaden.” 

She didn’t seem particularly moved by the people who had died as she said it, perhaps because it was all a little ludicrous. Or because she’d never really been raised to be a hunter driven by the deaths of innocents. “Besides, what kinda hobby do you suggest I get?” She gave him a glance, wondering what he’d come up with. Daiyu would like a hobby, but none seemed to fit her. Unless owning a dog was a hobby. 

At his question, she shook her head. “Nope. Super elusive, that one. I have tried, you know, but I can’t find him! Anyway — if you’re not going after him, what are you looking for today?”

—

“Guess that makes you full of character deficits, then,” Kaden shot back. “You’d have to be full of them if you’re this absurdly short.” He knew full well she wasn’t that short but years of banter between himself and Keira had found its way into the conversation with Daiyu seamlessly. It prickled at his skin, whatever the feeling was, uncomfortable and comfortingly familiar at the same time. 

All he could do was blink in response to the description of the giant squonk. It was hard to imagine any of them as dangerous creatures but the present picture being painted was unquestionably horrifying. Suffocation by squonk wasn’t an ideal way to die, he couldn’t argue that one. “King Kong just wanted to be left alone and wouldn’t have killed anyone if people had managed that much.” He was far from a movie buff but he was pretty sure that was the gist of the King Kong story. “Probably the same for the squonk. People wouldn’t die if they left it alone. Can’t suffocate you if you don’t get near it.” Sounded sensible enough to him.

“I don’t know. Running? Knitting? Gardening? I don’t fucking know what you like to do.” Hobbies had hardly been encouraged growing up and he had to assume it was similar for her. Hunters and all. There was never any extra time to fill that couldn’t be filled with training or hunting. Something useful. It was hard to shake that inclination, even now. “I don’t know but I heard they’re good for you. Hobbies.” He shrugged, not sure he’d mastered those on his own, yet. 

“Me?” There was no reason for Kaden to be shaken by the question and yet he found himself rubbing the back of his neck and shuffling his weight from one foot to the other. “Oh, uh, nothing in particular. Just seeing if there was anything about a farm.” He cleared his throat, unsure if he was saying too much. How much should he trust her? He wasn’t sure but he couldn’t pass up the opportunity for info, either. It was why he was here. “Or undead. Which isn’t— I mean, ranger but there were some complaints to animal control and I wanted to see if there was some overlap here. You know. See if it was more supernatural than animals.” Very convincing. Surely. 

—

“Hey!” Her voice was like a burst from her body, a shot through the air. One finger pressed into Kaden, “Shortness is no character deficit. Just means I don’t need to take up as much space to make an impression.” And leave impressions, that Daiyu tended to do. She gave a glower to Kaden to punctuate her point, which was a comeback she had made many times before. People loved to hold her shortness over her head (literally) and so she had had practice.

“Okay, the metaphor doesn’t go that far. I’m telling you, it’s a problem. People aren’t smart enough not to get close, so what?” Daiyu felt a kind of moral superiority that was rare to her. She wasn’t even sure if she felt any type of way about this or if she just wanted to win the argument, though. “They deserve to die just because they’re a little foolish and curious? Tsk.” Hunters were supposed to have some kind of purpose to protect others and though she barely ever felt like a protector, it was nice to pretend to be one now.

Her face scrunched up at the other’s suggestions, “I run plenty. The rest of those sound bad.” She didn’t have the patience for knitting or gardening. Hobbies were a novel concept to her, especially those that lead to some kind of fostering or creation. The closest she came was trying to become better at bouldering and caring for her pet, but those were just things she did.“You sound very convinced of that fact.” 

She frowned a little at Kaden’s reaction, figuring that his suspiciousness was pointing towards him trying to hide something but not knowing what kind of thing it could be. Maybe he was after the big squonk after all. Daiyu scanned the board, “Nothing about a farm, plenty about undead,” she said, shrugging. “Don’t worry, sometimes I go after those not-dead ones too. You know, why limit yourself? Maybe that’s my hobby. Expanding my horizons. Anyway, done looking?” She gestured at the bar. “First round’s on me.”