#w: emilio

[nicsalazar]

Squirming out of trouble || Emilio & Nicole

TIMING: Current LOCATION: State Park PARTIES: @mortemoppetere & @nicsalazar SUMMARY: Nicole finds Emilio wandering around the woods investigating a case. She decides to help him out. WARNINGS: None.

Nicole learned the hard way never to speak the words: It’s an uneventful shift. Rangers were a superstitious bunch, the second lesson. The first time she uttered it —an anxious attempt at filling an uncomfortable silence— resulted in a bear attacking a teenager who wandered far from his camping site. The senior park ranger she shadowed looked at her with such a look of disappointment that her cheeks burned for two days. She swore not to repeat her mistake. The second time was an accidental slip, a consequence of her lack of sleep and too many extra hours, and by the end of the night, a beast that many would equate to Bigfoot chased her and one of the foresters around the woods until they found a hiding place the large figure couldn’t access. 

Never again. Nicole wasn’t superstitious, but she would rather not test her luck with another coincidence. She never dared think of the word uneventful at work again, finding ways to pass the time before the thought could swarm her mind. The evening was shaping up to be one of those… less stressful instances. Paperwork wasn’t cutting it. Rarely did. Nicole rose from her chair, leaving behind the old computer used to file reports, and decided to walk outside without a word. Before— She couldn’t finish that thought.

She took on the trail leading away from the campsites, where kids liked to wander off to be attacked by bears. An extra set of eyes in the place couldn’t hurt. The night would fall eventually, and whoever enjoyed walking around solitary paths should think twice before doing it under the moonlight. As expected, someone else took an interest in the same trail, going as far as venturing outside the delimited area. Nicole didn’t shout immediately as she should have, surprised to find a familiar face. Surprised by the familiar face she found. “Don’t imagine you’re here enjoying a quiet stroll?” she lifted her eyes from the ground, not to glance at Emilio’s face, rather it was his knee she was curious about. She dropped them back to the bushes, her mind spinning a few ideas as to why he of all people would be out in the woods. “Got better trails around for that, If you want me to show you”

—

He’d been taking on more cases lately. Even Emilio himself wasn’t really sure why. He didn’t need the money, even if he did feel weird about accepting Teddy’s often too-generous offers to do things like buy his groceries (which consisted almost entirely of cheap whiskey and cigarettes) or cover the gas he used in his motorcycle when he spent hours absently driving around. The distraction of having something to do with himself was nice enough, but hunting was a far better way to spend the time than detective work. Hunting made him feel more useful, more at ease. When he was hunting, he felt as though he was doing something right. At least… that was how it used to be. But it felt a little different now, a little emptier. Maybe that was why he’d started taking more and more cases. Maybe something new had broken inside of him. He didn’t like the thought much.

It was easy enough to push it away, at least, as he focused his attention on the matter at hand. It was a fairly familiar case, the kind he got often. Someone had disappeared, and the last anyone knew, they’d been in the woods. Emilio didn’t understand why so many people in this town saw fit to hike and camp and do whatever else in woods where so many people vanished into thin air, turning up later as mangled corpses or never turning up at all, but he supposed the habit kept him in business. He didn’t have much hope that this particular case would see him finding his client’s friend alive. She’d been missing for three days already, and odds were she’d been dead for the whole of them. Still, he wouldn’t give up until he knew for certain. It was more of a bad habit than it was anything else.

He felt her before he heard her. Not in a supernatural sense kind of way, just in a… ‘extremely paranoid man’ kind of way. Even with his ears being less than they’d once been, that curling darkness that had lived in his gut for years made him hyper aware of the sound of coming footsteps. Emilio tensed only until the familiar voice called out, relaxed ever so slightly at the realization that he knew who was here and why. Nicole was a park ranger. It made sense that she’d be approaching men on difficult trails with bad legs dragging behind them. He couldn’t take offense to it. “Not really looking for another trail,” he admitted. “Here for something specific. Maybe you can help me out, actually? Girl went missing here a few days ago. Her friend says she spends a lot of time on this trail. Cops already decided she just took off with her boyfriend, but…” He trailed off, letting it hang. He didn’t think the thought needed finishing. What do the cops know? They’re shit. It was a universal kind of thing.

—

Nicole’s face didn’t move, unsurprised by Emilio’s explanation. She knew little about him, but she remembered he was a PI. With no bigger hotspot for unresolved deaths than the woods of Wicked’s Rest, his presence was logical. In his own words, it wasn’t death that brought him to the woods, but she knew considering where he stood, that the ending to his case would look a certain way.

“Ah,” She shoved her hands in her pockets, going over the information he was providing. “Wouldn’t be shocked if something happened to her,” no point in sugarcoating anything. Emilio likely handled far worse cases than a missing girl. She stepped closer, nodding her head for him to follow, purposefully trying to pull him to the safer part of the trail. “When I first started here— We had a bear attack around this place.” It wasn’t a bear, according to the only eyewitness at the time. It was something resembling one. It hid in the shadows, said the teenager, shaking in fear. 

Not many believed the boy, given his state, but the story stayed with Nicole for years. The park instead, put up some bear signs around the campsite to warn the tourists, no one cared to dig into his claim. “There’s a spot— minutes away. People find it hard to get back to campsite once they’re in it. You, uh— Get trapped by the darkness, even when it’s sunny, so—” she said, turning her head back at him, silent for a moment. It could happen to him, should he go sniffing around for clues. But she didn’t trust him to hear her warnings.  

It would be better to help him. She didn’t like the idea, but he could investigate, while there was light left in the surroundings. Nicole wasn’t sure how long Emilio planned to stay and do— PI shit, but she could at least ensure they went in fast, so he could be gone before sunset. Wasn’t this what she’d been looking for when she walked out of the ranger station? A distraction. Paperwork was the alternative. A bleak alternative. 

Should be fine, Nicole told herself. Emilio was a capable PI. And should darkness become difficult to navigate— the jaguar could give her a hand. She scoffed when he mentioned the cops. “Most of them wouldn’t dare to come around,” it was often they showed up, walked around for a few hours and never came back for a follow-up. “Alright,” she blew a tense breath, certain of her decision, but not any less worried. She waited for Emilio to fall into step and pointed toward a spot, away from the trail. Their destination. “Could talk to the manager at the campsite too, but— girl missing for a few days rings a bell. Think they were doing some searching around the cabins yesterday,” though that could be for any reason. “Was she staying here when she disappeared or just— hiking?” Regardless, there could be a groundskeeper or a forester who saw something. It was a matter of finding them. She pointed to the ground, walking slightly ahead of him. “Careful, some of the thorns around her are sharp enough to shred your pants.”

—

It made sense that Nicole would know the odds of finding this girl alive. She probably saw this kind of thing a lot, working in the park. In all honesty, Emilio should have utilized her as a contact before now. After all, she had a working knowledge of the woods that was probably a good deal more extensive than most other people in town. He made a mental note to start calling on her more for cases like this one… before they ran into one another on the trails. 

“That’s what I’m thinking, too,” he agreed, shaking his head. Emilio wasn’t much of an optimist; anyone who knew him could attest to that. “But it’s part of my job to figure out what. Having answers is a lot better than having none, even when the answers aren’t what you’d like.” He’d learned that in a deeply personal way, could compare what it felt like to know the details of a tragedy versus what it felt like to know nothing at all. In spite of the ache it carved into your chest, he’d choose answers every time. He’d do everything in his power to ensure that other people got the same deal, too. “You get a lot of… bear attacks?” He doubted most of them were legitimate bear attacks, but he wouldn’t say as much. Even if this disappearance was supernatural in nature, he’d need to find a more subdued excuse to offer his client in the aftermath, anyway.

Hesitantly, he offered Nicole a nod. Following her was a better bet than sulking around on his own and just hoping something would click, after all. He might have been the detective in this situation, but when it came to the woods, Nicole was the expert. Emilio wasn’t too proud to listen to an expert… so long as the expert wasn’t someone he found annoying. “Could be she found herself there,” he acknowledged. “Not a bad idea to check it out.” He paused for a moment, then added, “Safely.” He didn’t give much of a shit about safety, but Nicole was just trying to do her job. 

Part of him felt the need to tell her that the dark didn’t bother him much, anyway, but she’d probably have questions about it. Emilio couldn’t quite explain his perfect night vision without admitting where it came from, and that wasn’t the kind of thing Emilio liked doing. If someone didn’t know about the supernatural, telling them you were a vampire slayer made them think you had a few screws loose. If they did know about the supernatural, you could very well get yourself killed by letting word spread around that you were a hunter. Emilio’s name was already a little too recognizable to any undead who’d spent time in or around Mexico. He didn’t need to go around adding more risk of people targeting him. 

“Ah, they’re useless,” he agreed, trailing along behind her to follow. He made a note of where he was, figuring he could come back to the same area later if he found nothing with Nicole. “Probably talk to whoever’s willing to talk to me. Some people are… not happy to have someone looking around.” And some people weren’t happy to have Emilio looking around, specifically. He had a habit of pissing people off. The fresh scars Aesil left on his arms and legs itched absently at the thought, and he swallowed. Better not to think about that. “Just hiking. Was supposed to meet her friends for lunch after, never showed. Gives me more of a time frame, at least. Might help jog some memories.” He made a face at the mention of thorns, remembering the brambles that had pulled him underground with Wyatt. “Don’t need to tell me twice.”

—

Miracles were rare at the park. Nicole would’ve liked to believe that with more resources and more personnel, something could’ve been done for girls like the one Emilio was after. One day, getting lost in the park wouldn’t be an immediate death sentence. However, that required a kind of hope Nicole couldn’t muster most days. She kept her gaze low, studying the underbushes, while Emilio offered a clue as to why he chose the path to become a PI: Answers. He was interested in providing them. The silence felt too big, suffocating as Nicole grappled with the familiarity of the situation. There were things Nicole didn’t like to talk about and things she couldn’t talk about. Words that were physically impossible to get out, her throat surrounded by barbed wired any time she thought of it. 

The more Emilio spoke, the more she was dragged into the depths of her memories. Memories she had decided to leave alone before they created a cocktail toxic enough to destroyed her. The violence, the years exiled from her body, the cloud of mystery surrounding her family's disappearance. The tragedy her younger self had to piece together. Whoever came up with ignorance is a bliss never had one of their loved ones go missing, certainly. A low hum was all she managed, afraid of the emotion weighing in her throat. A hum. It was a single sound but it carried much more than that. It carried sympathy, recognition and understanding. If Emilio was as capable as Nicole believed him to be, then he’d listen for what was unspoken. 

She clenched her jaw, swallowing against the emotion rising to the surface. “Let’s find your answers then,” Nicole echoed his sentiment in a grumble, her voice evening out. She slowed down her stride, waiting for the path to reveal their next deviation. Barely noticeable on the ground, there was an old piece of wood plank. There was once a boardwalk around the area. Nicole twisted to the left as she noticed it, keeping Emilio in her peripheral vision. “Sure,” a slight hint of amusement edged her words. She doubted Emilio had genuine interest in bear attacks, but she could answer regardless. “It’s what they like to call it,” by they she meant those in high positions. The ones that in turn, were pawns of somebody else even higher on the scale. She pointed at a bear sign. It was defaced. “Anytime you see one of these— 80% chance it wasn’t a bear,” keeping the secrecy with Emilio was pointless, after they bought witnessed a supernatural creature mess with their preferred dog park. “You know how the town is— Peculiar… wildlife,” or however he preferred to call it. 

Despite the somber reality, Nicole could see certain appeal in assisting an investigation. “Will radio management when we get out of it. Play nice,” she half-turned to Emilio, eyebrow arched. She slowed down again, battling with herself. If she had the means to bring a family closure— wouldn’t it feel better to go the extra mile? Her eyes shifted around the trees, as if she expected eavesdropping. Eventually, she blew a tense breath and continued the trek. When she spoke again, she was adamant not to look back at him. “Between… eight fifteen and eight thirty— change of shifts around most stations. Good time to— go unnoticed.” If he did anything with the knowledge, it wasn’t her fault.  

The deeper they trudged into the woods, the harder it would be for them to keep discussing the case. The light began dissipating around them. Not immersed in full darkness, though Nicole knew it was coming. She debated whether to turn on the flashlight. Any creatures living in this area of the park likely wouldn’t enjoy the brightness. Or being disturbed by it. She could get by with scent or hearing, and hope against logic, that nothing too deadly chose to live in the heart of the woods. She pressed the button, casting the small light to the forest floor. She noticed remnants of something scattered around. Something or someone. She wasn’t sure when was the last time a park ranger patrolled the woods up to this point. Not recently, judging by the litter. Maybe during the time the jaguar kept her in the zoo. A window of time that went back several years. Nicole looked down at the soil, uncertain of the marks she was staring at. “There’s this,” she mumbled when Emilio drew closer.

—

He didn’t know Nicole well enough to delve into the reason for her reaction, but he recognized the expression of someone who understood the importance of someone seeking answers. Maybe a better man would have pressed for details, would have given her some opportunity to talk about whatever it was that weighed so heavily on her shoulders, but Emilio would much rather ignore difficult conversations than invite them out into the open. After all, if he invited Nicole to talk about her experiences, there was every chance she’d see fit to return the favor. And Emilio didn’t want to talk about it. He didn’t want to give a voice to the things that had been haunting him for years now, didn’t want to acknowledge the corpses that followed him around. It was so much easier to ignore a thing if you never spoke it aloud. Maybe it would still crush you, but it felt more survivable when you didn’t give it the advantage of being heard. 

And, in any case, Nicole struck him as the sort of person who might feel similarly. She was quiet, not the sort to tout her problems to anyone who’d listen. Despite not knowing her well, Emilio liked her for this reason, enjoyed her company for its simplicity. They didn’t need to talk about themselves at all. They could walk together, side by side, and talk only about the case he was working and the answers he hoped to find. Emilio preferred that by miles to the alternative.

“What do you like to call it?” There was a genuine curiosity to the question. Nicole clearly knew that the woods weren’t what they seemed, something that lined up with his previous impression of her. In the dog park, when that hedgehound had shown up, she’d been far too calm to be someone who knew nothing of the world around her. Emilio doubted she would have lasted long in this job if she’d known nothing at all about the threats she was facing. There was a reason, after all, why Emilio was one of the longest lasting PIs in town. People who knew what they were up against had a habit of living longer. “Anything worse than anything else up here, that you’ve noticed?” There would be the usual suspects, of course. But if there was something big, something less common… that might be worth looking into even if it didn’t have anything to do with this particular case.

He made a face as she turned back towards him, instructing him to ‘play nice’ with management. “Not really my strong suit,” he admitted with an unapologetic shrug. He used to be better with authority, back when the authority in question was his mother. He’d done what she’d told him to do, even when he’d had doubts. And still, the mere existence of those doubts had seen him earning the title of her most disappointing child. These days, he found authority like police officers or Nicole’s bosses far more difficult to respect. 

As they moved, the woods darkened around them. Emilio glanced around, making a note of the change even as his eyes adjusted. There was little difference between light and dark when your night vision was perfect, and his heritage as a slayer granted him that advantage. Still, he made a lazy effort to pretend otherwise, if only to avoid questioning from Nicole. He drew closer to her as she turned on her flashlight, looking down at the ground beneath their feet. “Could be something,” he murmured thoughtfully, careful not to let his feet disrupt the marks. “You see any trail left behind?”

—

What did she call the strange creatures roaming around the extension of the park, the ones lurking in the shadows, hiding in the water, nesting on the trees? “Don’t have a name for them,” she shook her head. For the most part, they would pass for different type of dogs, bears, exotic birds and reptiles. The park took advantage of that, discouraged all stories about it, but Nicole knew they belonged in a different category. The problem laid in her lack of knowledge of the supernatural beyond her ability to recognize them. Hardly useful. “Know a guy working in Animal Control— knows more about this shit… The— supernatural” she supposed, as far as words went, it was the a common one. “The name Langley sound familiar to you?” She should be reaching out to Kaden more often. Describing the fauna she found.  She should start writing them down, keeping a record.  

Emilio’s question wasn’t generic, however, and Nicole understood he was trying to figure out if somewhere in her words there was a lead he should follow. She wished she could offer more, but if it was worth anything, she could expand on her previous comment. “But uh— The bear I mentioned— the one that attacked a kid… Could still be around. Not a bear, though. It— kid claimed it moved in the shadows,” she looked around at their surroundings, “looks like the ideal spot for it to live.” A place where a girl could wander off to, if she were careless, or if she had been chased. Nicole doubted they were about to face this monster, though. She wasn’t sure if that certainty was a positive thing or not. If she believed something far worse awaited them or if she knew they would be safe.   

Amid the growing tension, Nicole let out a breathy laugh. She appreciated Emilio’s honesty. It was good not to be bullshitted, regardless if he looked worse for it. She didn’t care how he went about his investigation at the campsite, as long as he stayed safe. And something told her a man like him knew a trick or two to remain in one piece. She hoped his presence alone would ensure both of them would be fine after their immersion in the dark forest. 

As they stood above the mark for a moment, Nicole expected a revelation. She could see the tremor of her hand as the dot of light shook on the ground. There was nothing to fear yet, logically she was aware of the fact, but it didn’t make the total fucking darkness or the eerie lack of sound any more manageable. “Nothing,” she whispered, his question prompting her to move the flashlight around. Until a dark silhouette of— something came into view, by one of the tree trunks. Nicole’s human eyes tried making sense of it. “Backpack?” she guessed, nudging Emilio in the direction and pointing her flashlight with more confidence. 

When she sensed Emilio move away from her, Nicole’s attention returned to the marks on the forest floor. Didn’t look like a footprint. Any print, for that matter. Nor a drawing attempt, because who would come here to— She tilted her head, stepping inside the circle the mark created. From the new angle, Nicole had a different guess. The marks looked less like they were carved on the ground and more like teeth sticking out. A monster? A creature could’ve lived inside these woods after all, but considering only the teeth remained, it was likely long dead. 

She didn’t get to communicate her findings to Emilio, because a loud snapping sound came beneath her, followed by something sharp digging into her calf. “Fuck!” She hissed, dropping her flashlight as she tried to jerk back. Whatever was on the ground, didn’t let her move. It was trying to drag her. The flashlight clattered and turned off as it hit the dirt, darkness enveloping them completely. She tried to stay on her feet, though the monster impaired her balance. By reflex, jaguar eyes blinked, offering Nicole some clarity. Emilio was nowhere near her to spot it. Fortunately. Because supernatural conversation aside, she wasn’t ready to reveal herself as one of them. Through the eyes of the jaguar she was able to figure out what exactly was biting her leg. “The fuck—” her balance was lost, falling backwards, as the creature —worm like in shape— grew hungrier to secure it’s prey. 

—

It shouldn’t have come as much of a surprise that she knew Kaden. After all, it made a good deal of sense for park rangers to work closely with animal control even in a town that didn’t have a large number of ‘animal attacks’ binding the two together. In Wicked’s Rest, it was likely a far more important relationship. It was good, he thought, that both departments had people working in them who weren’t convinced that the world was a simple, easily explained thing. “I know Kaden,” he acknowledged with a nod. “Annoying, but good at what he does. Just don’t tell him I said so.” He wondered just how much Nicole knew about the supernatural. Did she know about hunters? Did she know Kaden was one? Emilio wouldn’t mention it either way, wouldn’t risk sharing information that could put someone he didn’t exactly hate in danger even if Nicole didn’t seem like the type to pose a threat.

She continued then, going into a little more detail about what they might have been dealing with in the woods. She still called it a bear, though she spoke as if she knew it was something a little more complicated than that. Emilio figured it was a safe deduction that whatever it was looked like a bear, at least. He thought of Nora, wondered if there might be a malicious bugbear on the loose with a pang. He had no desire to kill a bugbear, but if there was one killing people in the woods… Nicole went on, offering a little more information, and relief came in the form of a quiet sigh. Moves in the shadows and looks like a bear came together to give him an answer more likely than a bugbear. “Probably a baukbear,” he stated. “Keep the flashlight handy. Light fucks them up.”

He offered her a wry smile as she laughed, feeling some of the tension slip from his shoulders. It was never gone entirely — there was always some amount of discomfort there, even when he slept — but it was far easier to feel a little less on edge when she was laughing, even when it was a quiet sound. The lightness of the moment seemed to slip as he spotted something ahead by the tree, though.

He waited until her light found it, pretended to spot it only when it was illuminated rather than admitting to having seen it in the dark. “Backpack,” he agreed, giving little more warning before moving towards it. He kneeled by the tree, turning it over carefully. It was dark green, with lighter green patches that he supposed were meant to be decorative. Its contents had spilled on the forest floor around it, and he rifled through them carefully. A bottle of water, still mostly full. A few granola bars. A small camera. A can of bug spray. A portable phone charger, but no phone; Emilio figured most people were more prone to carrying those in their pockets for easier access. There was a wallet, though, and he flipped it open to look at the ID inside. The name matched the one his client had given him; his stomach rolled at the implications of it.

He turned to look back towards Nicole, to inform her of the discovery, but she was letting out a startled sound before he could say anything. Immediately — and painfully, thanks to the ever-present twinge in his knee — Emilio was on his feet. As quickly as he was capable of, he rushed back towards her, hand already going to his pocket to retrieve a blade.

She fell before he got there, landing on the forest floor with a thump. “The fuck is going on?” Emilio demanded, eyes wild as he looked down to her feet. There were teeth wrapped around her ankle, and it must have been painful. He dove towards the — fuck, of course it was a fucking worm. The slayer grit his teeth, anger bubbling over. “I’m going to kill it! I’ll — I don’t know, I’ll cut it in half or something, hold still.” 

—

Nicole would have to ask Emilio about his findings later, when the creature trying to eat her leg was —hopefully— dispatched. Though logic dictated, the case was nearly closed, wasn’t it? Whatever kind of supernatural worm the fucker attacking her was, it surely claimed more victims before Nicole and Emilio were able stumble upon it. If the girl strayed alone to this place, then they had their answer. It was a sobering thought, one that made her stomach plummet with guilt. At the park, everybody was responsible for their own well being, waivers were signed by visitors at the entrance, but what good were rangers for if they couldn’t keep young folks from putting their lives in danger? 

Sharp teeth dug deeper into her leg and she tried grasping at the jaws, her efforts to untangle herself wasted, barely dislodging the worm from its burrow. Fuck. She didn’t panic, however, regardless of how fast her heart hammered in her ears. She needed the adrenaline to help her out. If the monster ate the ways snakes did —an educated guess— then it would be a slow affair. She wasn’t helpless. She kicked the ground with her other leg, posing resistance before Emilio was by her side. “Not a fucking bear!” she grunted as her leg dropped further into the worm’s mouth. Her arms quivered as she pushed on the opposite direction. Her vision went out, and it was for the best, Emilio was next to her and he would take care of the situation. All she had to do was keep resisting as the worm tried to suck her in. “Need to— uproot it—” she gasped, hoping Emilio would take kindly to the alarm in her voice. She didn’t want a knife to replace the fangs plunged into her calf. How did he plan on aiming in total darkness?  

Her shaky hand patted the floor, stretching aimlessly until her fingers came into contact with what she was searching for: The flashlight. She cried out as she reached and the thing rolled over a few attempts, until it was in her grasp. She swiftly clicked the button, illuminating the scene once more. She set it on the floor, where she could vaguely map out the outline of her leg. It was better than nothing. “Will try to— pull some of the body out,” she questioned how Emilio planned on slashing a worm, but decided to trust his intentions. He was likely to carry some weapons as a PI, no? Shit got dangerous for people like him. She nodded in silent agreement, bracing herself to kick up the ground again, pulling a few inches of the worm out of its burrow. It was all Emilio had to work with. “Do it.” 

—

It didn’t take a detective to deduce what must have happened to the girl they were looking for. Her backpack had clearly been dropped in a momentary scuffle, and the worm currently gripping Nicole’s leg in its jaws certainly hadn’t appeared overnight. If Emilio had to guess, even without knowing the specifics on what it was, he’d say the thing had been here for a while. Long enough to swallow his client’s friend the same way it was trying to swallow Nicole now, leaving nothing but her bag to show she’d ever been here at all. Something heavy pooled in his stomach, and he did his best to push it away. There was nothing to be done now, no solution available beyond getting Nicole free and delivering the bad news and the backpack back to his client in whatever way made the most sense. 

“Not a bear,” he agreed. Privately, he wished the baukbear was responsible for this particular disappearance; they were a known entity, a thing he knew how to get away from, at the very least. But this? Emilio wasn’t particularly well-versed in worms, despite a certain former medical examiner’s insistence on sending him an abundance of them. Cutting the head off did the trick with most things, but Nicole was right — they needed to uproot this one before he could properly behead it, lest he risk cutting her foot off along with it.

She grabbed the flashlight to better see — something Emilio had forgotten to consider in the chaos — and began to yank. He waited until a few more inches of the worm were visible, waited until Nicole yelled for him to do it, then pounced, knife out and at the ready. He kept his blades sharp enough that he didn’t have to saw at the worm, cut as close to the ground as possible to give Nicole’s foot a little more room. “Pull back!” He yelled as the knife came free and the worm was halved. “Now!” They couldn’t risk the possibility of another one jumping out to take the place of the one he’d just sliced through.

—

Between Nicole’s attempts at pushing up in opposition to the worm, and Emilio trying to yank the thing a few extra inches, she was fairly confident her calf would be fine. Emilio was quick to act once she gave permission, drawing a blade in what she could only describe as a blurry move and sinking it with precision into the creature. When the sharp blade struck, it became a matter of maintaining consistency. Pulling up a final time, Nicole gripped the half severed maw and dragged it with her, what remained attached to the body wiggling out of its burrow. She fell onto her back, and the worm slammed motionless on the forest floor.

She didn’t get a moment of respite, flinching as she landed on the ground and springing back into a sitting position. They didn’t know if more of those creatures remained hidden on the ground, she didn’t want to test her shitty luck again. She grabbed the flashlight, assessing how badly she was wounded, removing each fang one by one. Fresh blood seeped from the injury, Nicole figured she would have to limp all the way back, but when the alternative was to be swallowed into the ground by a supernatural worm to die slowly and painfully, limping didn’t sound half bad. 

Tossing aside the creature’s jaws, Nicole looked up at a poorly lit Emilio, extending her hand to get back up. One last favor. “Good. Thanks for—” she heaved, out of relief rather than the physical exertion. Though she wasn’t entirely comfortable with that either. “Glad you’re good with a knife,” she mumbled, not giving much thought as to why that would be the case. Detective shit, probably. She put most of her weight on her good leg, staggering lightly but ready to move past being almost swallowed to the ground. It gave her a new perspective on all those claims of visitors vanishing out of thin air, though. “Will have to ask Langley what the fuck that was…” and if possible, if something could be done to cull them. The damage was done, a girl might be dead, but perhaps it didn’t have to happen again if she could stop it.   

Flashlight in hand she studied the forest floor, letting her heartbeat subside while searching for more suspicious marks, but couldn’t find anything out of the ordinary. “Got anything?” she glanced up at Emilio, nodding at the backpack, anticipation swirling in her stomach.  

—

As Nicole finally broke free of the worm and stumbled backwards, Emilio stood vigilant at the hole, gripping the knife tightly as he waited to see if any more worms would come looking for a snack. The hole remained empty for a moment, though he continued staring at it. Letting their guard down was a bad idea. If there was one of these things, there were probably more. And the next one might grab something more delicate than a leg.

Still not turning away from the hole completely, he inched towards Nicole and pulled her to her feet, figuring it was better if she was standing. The last thing they needed was for another worm to shoot out and grab her by the head, after all. “No problem,” he replied with a nod, spinning the knife absently in his hand. “Guess everybody’s good at something.” It wasn’t as if he was good at much else, after all.

Inching away from her, and still keeping the hole where he could watch it for movement, he went back to the backpack. He leaned down, scooping it up and tossing the spilled contents back inside. “The backpack is hers,” he said, zipping it shut and throwing it over his shoulder. “Guessing she ran into the same thing you did, and wasn’t as good with a knife as I am.” There was a hint of something in his tone at that — grief, guilt, regret, he wasn’t sure. He wasn’t pleased with the outcome in the slightest, but he was smart enough to recognize the most likely answer to the question he’d been asked. There was no need to risk Nicole’s life searching for some nonexistent proof to the contrary.

Making his way back over to Nicole, he scooped up the top half of the worm. “Might be easier for him to figure out what it is if we take him this,” he said, holding it up. Something dripped from the neck, landing beside Emilio’s shoe. He paid it no mind. He was too busy trying to determine the odds that Kaden would recognize this. It wasn’t undead, so it might fall in a ranger’s wheelhouse. It didn’t look fae, though Emilio was often bad at telling. If Kaden didn’t know, maybe he’d have some contacts to ask. 

Sighing, he nodded in the direction they’d come from. “We don’t need to stick around here any more. I got what I need to give my client something they’ll believe. No need to get killed chasing ghosts.”

—

She awaited that dreadful confirmation. Long, painful seconds stretching before Emilio opened his mouth, where Nicole was unsure what she would’ve preferred hearing. A girl was dead, or a girl remained missing. A family mourned their loved one, or a family continued to suffer with the uncertainty. Hardly anything uplifting about either fate. Whatever it was, it was long sealed before they stumbled into the darkness. Her flashlight illuminated the path toward the backpack, suspense twisting in her stomach. He picked up the contents from the back and stood straight. Then his words corroborated her initial prediction: The backpack belonged to the girl. Fuck.

She gave a stiff nod, lowering her flashlight to the ground and dimming everything around them. She didn’t want to be seen processing what they stumbled upon. She didn’t trust her face not to reflect her own painful memories. The silence felt heavy, if Nicole hadn’t been busy keeping a hold of her emotions, she would have noticed Emilio was affected by their findings, despite what his aloof exterior wanted to present. She wouldn’t know what to do with it, regardless. “Shit,” she mumbled, numbness slowly creeping back in her chest. Too often she worried about misspeaking, but there wasn’t a word that would fit the situation. “I’m sorry,” it was strange to say. Felt like expressing condolences to someone who didn’t need them. He solved the case faster than he expected to. Was it success at all for him? Succeeding meant breaking the news to a family whose world would crumble. Least he got paid. Someone got answers. She didn’t envy his job, that, she was certain of.

His steps approaching pulled her out of her thoughts, a moment later he was next to her, holding the worm. Same fucking bastard that sank its teeth on her. Nicole didn’t look down when she heard the dripping sound, though it splashed her boot, she could tell. It was in her best interest to ignore it. It was in their best interest to get the fuck out before another one of those popped out. “Ah,” her face contorted in disgust, but took the half worm from Emilio’s hands. Worms… dried, didn’t they? Should be alright. “Will keep it somewhere in the station. Hardly the weirdest shit there,” she shrugged. Eventually she would take a photograph and send it to Langley, get his professional opinion. Perhaps, she would start keeping records as she considered during their walk.  

“No. Guess we don’t.” His wording stuck with her. She wondered if she ever chased her own ghosts long enough. Hard enough. Dying for an answer wouldn’t have been such a terrible fate, would it? When did it stop being a priority? Why did she stop? She swallowed the knot in her throat, aiming toward the trail where they came from. She limped slightly, testing how well her injured leg could handle the trek back. It was fine to put some weight on her foot. The alternative — leaning against Emilio — was not something she wanted to resort to, considering how he carried himself. Hopefully, they wouldn’t stumble onto any other threat on the way back. They wouldn’t get too far with two working legs between the two. 

[highoctanegem]

Cheese! Couches! Bananas! || Emilio & Jade

TIMING: A few weeks ago. LOCATION: Axis Investigation PARTIES: @mortemoppetere & @highoctanegem SUMMARY: Jade shows up at Axis to check on her recently delivered couch(es). Emilio is there to greet her, and also, has a little surprise in his pockets. CONTENT WARNING: Bananas.

Their couches had arrived! Jade let out a squeal that must’ve been heard for miles around the cabin when she saw that little notif bubble pop up (Regan would be proud of the decibels). With a purpose for the day, she dragged herself out of the bed, pathetically empty after her bone partner left a few hours ago when she had to go to work or something. (Apple was so evil for keeping them away for eight hours a day) (She was seriously considering switching to Android in protest). Anyway, capitalist homophobia aside, she jumped in the shower and got ready to visit Emilio and make sure her purchases had arrived in perfect condition. Oh, right cause… They had decided to get them delivered to Axis while they didn’t have their real home! She forgot to mention that tiny detail, didn’t she? Whoopsie. 

Now that all the dots were connected, she was off to Axis to get a look at those couches.

The apartment building in Worm Row was such a nice little throwback to the beginnings of her Wicked’s Rest journey, bringing a smile to her face despite the stinky scent permeating the air. Aw, it retained the same aroma and all! 

She parked Roxie right outside, noticing the other (nameless) vehicle right next to hers. Sweet! Emilio was inside. And like, Jade knew she could’ve texted him, but where was the fun in that? And have him mentally prepared for her dropping by? No way. She took off her helmet, hanging it on the handle, and ran a hand through her damp hair to get rid of some nasty helmet head.

The door to Axis was unlocked, so she slipped inside and made herself home inside the repurposed living room. A huge cheshire grin spread across her face when she spotted Emilio in all his grumpy glory, but all greetings were on hold, as her eyes were naturally drawn to the out of place furniture adorning the room. She gasped in delight. 

She was pleasantly surprised they hadn’t been left just outside for just any rascals to get a hold of them. Especially the outlined couch (Regan would’ve been devastated to lose such an original model). Both couches were awkwardly occupying space amid Axis's modest decor. Her beautiful green one was covered in protective plastic, looking impeccably shiny despite the extra layer, while the outlined couch (and its matching ottoman) was packed in a large cardboard box. “You’re the bestest,” she smiled fondly, caressing the top of the plastic. “Oh, I meant you, but you know that already” She looked back at Emilio, sauntering toward his ‘office’ desk. “We should probably, like… move them to one of the other rooms, so your clients don’t get any ideas that you’re in your interior design era.” 

She placed a paper bag on the desk. “This is for you, courtesy of me and Regan,” and like, there was no reason for Jade to smile all devilishly while she gave it to him (it was a bottle of top-shelf whiskey) (and a breakfast sandwich, cause she knew what he was like) but if for a second Emilio thought he was being given worms instead, wasn’t that just so much more fun?

—

When his phone rang in the early afternoon with a number he didn’t recognize, he’d only answered because he’d assumed it was a case. Plenty of people preferred calling to showing up at his office when they wanted to schedule something, and that was all well and good. It was nice to know when you were expecting a client, sometimes. So, Emilio did what a good business owner would do. He picked up on the third ring. He muttered, “Axis Investigations,” into the phone. He waited as the person on the other end of the line paused.

And then, he waited a little longer.

When they finally spoke, they sounded a little confused. “Uh, I have a delivery here?”

His brow furrowed. “What? Ring the doorbell.” Had Teddy put his name on something? He wasn’t home at the moment, was out in Worm Row trying to burn some excess energy, but someone would be at the house to pick up whatever Teddy had delivered. Levi, Wynne, Gabagool in a pinch. The person on the other end of the line paused again, and Emilio nearly hung up. But then, they spoke, and he faltered.

“There, uh… There isn’t a doorbell? It’s an apartment?”

Shit. 

“Worm Row?”

“Yeah,” the person confirmed, sounding uncertain. “And it’s — I mean, it’s kind of sketchy here, so I’d like to — Can you let us in?”

Racking his mind, Emilio tried to think what he might have had delivered to the Worm Row apartment — and what might require more than one person to deliver it, considering the fact that the guy on the line said we. He kept coming up short. “Lock’s broken. Go inside. I’ll be up in five minutes.” And then, not particularly wanting to continue the conversation, he hung up and made his way to the familiar building. 

The elevator creaked as it always did when he climbed inside, and he kicked absently at Jeff’s foot where he sat in the corner. “Still alive, Jeff?” He asked, mashing the button for his floor.

“A dragonfly made me immortal. I paid her in nectar,” Jeff replied, clearly half asleep. Emilio nodded absently, listening to the elevator strain.

“Glad to hear it.” The door opened on the second floor, and he stepped out. “Better not catch you in my place again. Tired of cleaning up after you.” There was no response; presumably, Jeff had gone back to sleep. Emilio sighed, rolling his eyes as the elevator door closed again and making his way towards his apartment.

The door was closed; clearly, the delivery guy had meant it when he said he felt unsafe. Emilio nudged it open with his foot, stepping inside to find… a couch. Taking up most of the living room, while a guy sat in the floor beside it with chalk, drawing on the floor. 

“What the fuck is this?”

He should have been expecting the answer. A delivery for a Regan Kavanagh, who’d given this address for her things. Emilio blew a frustrated puff of air through his nose, moving to the desk to sit while the men finished up. He pulled a wrapped bundle from his pocket, brow furrowing. Cheese. Right. He and Teddy had taken so much home from that damn bonfire that Teddy had taken to sending it off with him to snack on throughout the day. Emilio chewed it absently, watching as the men made their quick exit. 

After a few minutes, someone else entered. He wasn’t particularly surprised to see who. 

“Should have figured you’d know about this,” he griped, shooting her a look as she set something down on the table. Popping the rest of the cheese into his mouth, he opened the bag, expecting worms. It was a pleasant surprise to find whiskey in a sandwich instead, and he pulled out the former and popped it open. “I don’t think this makes up for the couch. Or the guy who drew on my floor. The hell is that about, anyway? And how long do I have to keep this shit here?”

—

“Um, of course I know about this! Did Regan forget to tell you about it?” Jade asked with her most innocent smile. She absolutely knew Regan had forgotten about it, or well, technically she made her forget about it. Nope scratch that, it was Regan’s fault, for being too gay and so easily distracted. Or maybe it was that basket of cold cookies they found after, that may or may not have been a wee bit cursed. Huh, maybe it did slip everybody’s minds. And anyway, it was way funnier for all involved (read, only her) if there was a bit of miscommunication all around. She smiled at Emilio, noticing he was eating some cheese, which if her math was right (as it was always the case), it must’ve been some of the leftover ones from the bonfire. What a fun time that was. She was still wearing her friendship bracelets from that time. 

Obviously, Emilio dove straight for the whiskey (her suggestion) (he definitely wouldn’t have wanted Regan’s initial idea which was better kept a secret), and Jade rested her hand on top of the desk, smile still polite and friendly. Seeing as he was at least eating some cheese, she wasn’t gonna pester him about the sandwich. “You’re welcome, and um… it totally does. I’m pretty sure the couches were cheaper than that,” she gave a pointed look at the bottle. (And nope, they weren’t. But almost!). Her eyebrows pinched together, cause what did Emilio mean by that? Guys drawing on the floor? So like… “What? No! Did they open it?” she looked back at the cardboard box, then to the ground where yup, sure enough, there was a big rectangle drawn with chalk just like the display at Just Couches. She accidentally stepped on it with her dirty boots when she walked over to the desk. Whoops, Regan didn’t have to know. But at least! It looked like the ottoman was still inside the box then, judging by the lack of a second outline in the room. (Small wins). “Mmm, we’re gonna need to repackage that, when we move it to our house,” how did one repackage an outlined couch? (Did the chalk come in the box?) They should probably call the store to work it out. 

“Oh! Right…” She pushed those mild inconveniences away, glancing back at Emilio. Sometimes Jade forgot not everything she and Regan did had a perfectly rational, perfectly obvious explanation. It was hard sometimes, to be so above everyone in terms of coolness, and having to come back down and co-exist with mortals who knew nothing about outlined couches. (But it was a duty she took with honor) (maybe she’d actually be good at this one). “Our couches!” she shrugged, cause seriously. Emilio was a detective, he had eyes. Could he not see the rectangle and figure out it was obviously a drawn couch? Duh! “I dunno if you’ll want the whole story,” she cackled. Emilio was pretty nosy though, just like… delusional about it. He acted as if everything he had to know was cause of his job. “But! It comes down to us wanting to move in together to like, a real house” and did they have to rush so much with the couch? Probably not, but did they find the perfect one? Absolutely. When you know you know. “So we went to get a couch first. And I may or may not have been a bit too gay to say no to her,” she pinched her thumb and her index finger. “I mean you know how that goes,” she wiggled her eyebrows at him, reaching inside the bag for the sandwich she brought, slowly unwrapping it. She was feeling a little hungry, actually. “And voila! We have… two couches. And an ottoman,” and only one of them was truly visible. 

“I dunno how long we’ll need yet. We’d obviously like, move them if we take too long to find the right place. We definitely don’t want them in the cabin right now,” cause Regan associated the cabin with a buncha bad things, including Jade’s weapons, which totally made her feel some type of way, but she was not gonna dwell on it until it was time to. (So maybe next season). And Axis had been like, the closest location they knew from Just Couches so really, not even in a jokey way, Axis had been ideal delivery address. “Do you realize how lucky you are that Teddy just had their place already furnished and ready to take on an extra grumpy roomie? I’m telling ya, we’re even looking at like bird migration paths.” So they would increase their chances of birds dropping dead in their yard, obviously.

—

Regan was supposed to tell him about this? Emilio huffed, crossing his arms over his chest and raising a brow at Jade in an expression that was all-too-serious. Of course Regan wouldn’t have told him. Regan loved sending shit to his house unannounced, be it bags of worms or turtlenecks made of denim. Jade knew as much, which meant if she had given the duty of informing Emilio about the couch delivery to her… bone partner, she’d done so with full knowledge that the information would never be delivered at all. This was all definitely intentional. And there were couches in his apartment. (Well… a couch. He was refusing to call the chalk outline a couch on principle.) “No,” he replied needlessly, “Regan didn’t tell me about any couches. You could have, you know.” It wasn’t like he would have said no. Probably. He would have demanded something in return, but Jade had brought him whiskey and that was probably what he would have demanded, anyway, so…

Damn it. Having people who actually knew you was a hard, unfamiliar thing.

He took another swig of the whiskey, which was apparently expensive but tasted, to him, exactly like the cheap shit. (Maybe Teddy was right about him burning through his tastebuds with all the cigarettes and bottom shelf liquor.) “I’m not thanking you. You filled my apartment with random furniture, you don’t get thanked for that. A bottle of whiskey is the least you could do.” He watched as she seemed… a little distressed, almost, about the chalk drawing. “Open it? It’s a drawing. Made of chalk. On my floor. That isn’t something you open.” Unless his English was worse than he thought it was. “Re — Jade, you can’t repackage a drawing made of chalk. That’s — You know, I think Kavanagh’s weirdness is rubbing off on you?” Had Jade always been this strange? Maybe Emilio just hadn’t noticed it when they were sleeping together, or had written it off as the normal kind of strange that was just ‘people acting in a way Emilio Cortez didn’t understand.’ 

Of course, her explanation made about as much sense as the chalk outline on his floor. “I see one couch,” he allowed, “and one drawing made of chalk that I don’t know how to clean up.” He didn’t own a mop, and there was no way in hell he was getting on his hands and knees with a sponge. Even if he’d wanted to, his bad knee would protest to the point that he’d have to stay on that damn floor until someone peeled him off it, and that wasn’t something his pride could handle. The chalk drawing would probably stay there until someone else cleaned it up (unlikely) or it was splattered over with a new stain (probably blood). “So you and Regan want to move in together.” That part he understood. “And you bought a couch.” He was with her there. “And had it delivered to my apartment?” This was where she’d lost him. “Don’t you have other places it could go?” They must have had other friends. Friends with bigger apartments, friends with more patience, friends who were, most importantly, not Emilio. Jade should have sent the couches (couch, damn it, he was not letting her make him consider the chalk outline a piece of furniture) to someone else, if only so Emilio could enjoy living in a world where this kind of thing wasn’t his problem.

He groaned quietly. He couldn’t really say no to letting her store things here. He wasn’t here often, and they were already here, and she was looking at him with that hopeful, ‘I’m-in-love-with-a-weirdo’ look on her face. “Teddy kidnapped my dog and forced me to move in with them,” he replied flatly. “I am a captive.” It was very untrue, and Jade obviously knew as much. But Emilio wanted to be dramatic, and there were couches — no, fuck that, there was a couch and a chalk outline of a second couch — in his living room, so he figured he had some right. He sighed, taking another swig of whiskey. His fingers itched as he put the bottle down, hand drawn into his pocket for reasons he couldn’t quite understand. They closed around something strange; his nose wrinkled thoughtfully. “How long am I keeping it here? I need this space.” He didn’t. They both knew he didn’t.

—

So they both forgot about the couch delivery, big deal! (Huh, actually…) Nope, whether it was a case of them being too gay to remember, or like actual important stuff getting the best of their memories, it didn’t matter. Everything had turned out just fine. Maybe next time she’d write reminders like that in her notes app, though (lesson learned). She couldn’t rely on her beautiful brain if her beautiful brain was filled with a buncha other stuff. These days most of her energy went into holding up the fort that was her mental stability (an all-hands-on-deck type of task), so of course some things slipped!  

A lot more of Kavanagh was rubbing off on her, Jade wanted to quip, but that was neither here nor there. Cause finding the person who allowed her to free the weirdo she always had inside was an amazing feeling that she didn’t wanna give up. Going back to a time before Regan, where she was a totally normal person? (That’s right) No, thank you! Whatever dirty joke was blooming on her lips died as the chalk couch occupied her thoughts. “Look, I’ll google how to clean chalk, I bet water will do fine, and I happen to enjoy mopping so,” she’d have to draw the rectangle by memory next time Regan saw it, but it would be fine. Right? (Crap, what if Regan could tell the difference?)

“Yup. We wanna make it offish,” which was like, a weird thing to say when she was currently wearing her big, meaningful Irish ring that Regan gifted her when they shared love declarations. (It wasn’t a proposal. She would’ve known) (She would’ve, right?). “But I still have my stuff at my old apartment and the cabin is empty from when Regan skedaddled to Ireland so, you could say it’s barebones,” she snickered at her own joke, biting down her smile to continue the convo. “So this would be ours,” there was no need to like, explain most of that cause Emilio had been to their place already to play games with Regan, but when had that ever stopped her from yapping? 

She stopped fussing with the wrapper of Emilio’s sandwich (soon to be hers) and folded her arms over her chest. “This is the best place,” she raised her eyebrows at him, a silent ‘Where else could it go?’ implied in the gesture. Did he want her to get mushy and talk about how he was the one person she trusted with her first big adult purchase? She would! It was just weird of him to wanna hear all that. “Plus, this was the closest to Just Couches. I didn’t want my couches traveling too far until they had their permanent home,” she spared him, actually. Cause she did show up unannounced, it was common decency. (And the whiskey felt like too small of a thank you gift, now that she stared at her beautiful green couch in perfect condition).

Jade groaned with him, except hers was in mocking, obviously. She kept at it until he realized how embarrassing it was. With a chortle, she gave him a look one would give a kicked puppy. “Poor you, Teddy’s so evil for forcing you into a comfy bed and a clean space, aren’t they? You’re so dramatic,” her eyes sparkled in a teasing way. “The door is like, really big… I’m sure you can slip undetected any time. You can probably carry everything you own in one hand, even. So I dunno what’s stopping ya,” with a shrug she picked up her sandwich and walked back to the couch (es), keeping a safe distance so food didn’t spill on it. (Knowing her? Always an option). “Let’s give it two weeks, Regan is making inquiries about a house,” she inspected the couch with a smitten look on her face, turning back to Emilio. “It has knife pockets! A hundred of them”.

—

He could see the innuendo forming on the tip of her tongue, and while he liked to think the look he shot her spared him from hearing it, he knew better than to assume he had any power whatsoever over Jade. If she refrained from making a dirty joke, it was only because she’d decided she didn’t want to make a dirty joke. “I do not own a mop,” he said flatly, glaring at the chalk drawing on the floor. In all honesty, the drawing did very little to dirty up the already filthy floor; it had been sticky since long before he moved in, each step making a strange squelch that he’d always just ignored. (Something that was actually far easier since a banshee screamed in his face and left one of his ears perpetually ringing, so… maybe he actually owed Kavanagh a thank you for that one. Thanks for letting an evil banshee who lived in your hometown scream my hearing to shit was the kind of conversation starter he would not be implementing any time soon, though.) 

As always, he had to take a moment to unpack what Jade was saying and marry it to what she meant. It was a slow process, like rusty gears spinning in a broken watch. Offish. Official. Make it official. His brow furrowed, the explanation he’d gathered not one that really made sense. “Wasn’t it already?” If Jade and Regan hadn’t been ‘official’ until they bought couches together, what the hell had they been doing before? Was buying couches together a necessary step in solidifying a relationship? He’d never bought a couch with Teddy. Were the two of them official? It’d be awfully embarrassing if they weren’t, Emilio thought. 

Shaking the thought away — he’d ask Teddy about it later, probably — he looked back to Jade with a squint and a tilt of his head. “And you couldn’t have waited until you had your own place to send it to to order couches?” He understood not wanting them delivered to the cabin — Emilio, of all people, knew how well four walls could absorb bad memories and inject them into everything housed within them — but he felt there were options that weren’t sending the couches (no, couch, fuck the chalk outline, he wasn’t doing this) to his apartment. 

But… there was something about Jade’s tone when she insisted that this was the best place for the couch. There weren’t a lot of people who trusted Emilio anymore. The fact that Jade had enough faith in him to send something that was clearly important to her here, to his place, and trust him to accept it without question… That meant something. It was hard for even Emilio to remain angry at that. Even if his apartment being close to Just Couches probably did play a pretty heavy role in things.

Sighing, he shook his head and threw one hand up in quiet defeat. The other hand remained in his pocket, fingers twitching as they gripped what he’d found there. The strange pull he felt moved him towards Jade, towards the green couch with all the pockets. “I am a hostage,” he insisted flatly, clearly unbothered by it. “You should be rescuing me, not sending me couches.” He leaned down, inspecting one of the knife pockets. His couch didn’t have knife pockets. He was going to have to talk to Teddy.

But… there was something more important he needed to do first. He couldn’t explain it, couldn’t understand it, but he knew it needed to be done. Straightening, he slipped his hand from his pocket, gripping something small and wrapped in a yellow peel, and dropped it subtly into Jade’s pocket instead. “What kind of house does Kavanagh look at?” He questioned, giving no outward indication that anything had happened at all. “What’s she into? Does it have a morgue in the basement?” He made a face.

—

Her flabber was well and truly gasted when she learned Emilio didn’t own a mop. Wow. You think you know a guy and then, bam! he doesn’t own a mop. Which… fine, alright, yup… It totally tracked, who was she kidding? They didn’t spend months in that questionable (according to Regan) couch for her to believe Emilio kept his place spotless. Okay. Jade was just shook by the admission, not cause it came from Emilio. Still, she fixed him with a look of disbelief cause this was unfinished business, they would go over his mopless behavior at a more appropriate time. But he had brought up Regan, and Regan always came first. (Well…) “I mean, we are official, obviously. We’ve been bone partners since she came back,” and she wasn’t gonna go over the fact that it was Regan who had to ask the ‘what are we?’ question, she had a reputation to uphold. “But this is like��we’re planning for a life together type of thing. A house is a big deal! And it does feel a bit U-haul-y, I know what you’re gonna say,” she waved her hand, positive that Emilio was not gonna say any of that, actually. “But it’s also from a practical standpoint, neither of us has a place to live right now, so why not make the best of it? The couch is to represent we’re both in it to win it. It being love”.

After Jade explained to him the reasoning behind delivering the couches to his place, he seemed satisfied enough with the answer, if his dramatic sigh was anything to go by. She smiled smugly at him, a small exchange that felt so familiar it swept Jade with a wave of nostalgia. And then she was weirded out, cause why was Emilio making her think of Onyx? He should be hit with a (new) mop just for that. “The couch was a spur of the moment thingy, you know us… so spontaneous,” she shrugged, the glint in her eyes making it clear she knew Emilio would argue Regan and spontaneous didn’t go in a sentence together. Messing with him was just too much fun. She just had to open her mouth and he was aggravated. 

Finally, he rounded the desk and joined her to check out the gem that was her new couch, with its infinite pocket space. “Uh-huh. Okay, bud… I’m sure I’ll think of something to get you out of there. Just make sure you’re not too tangled up in sheets when I come,” she rolled her eyes, patting his shoulder in mock commiseration, then guiding him to the star of the show. Jade hummed in approval, mouthing ‘yup’ and ‘that’s right’ every now and then, as Emilio discovered new hiding spots. She was so besotted with her beautiful couch that she didn’t sense the new weight in her pocket, just went about her business, beckoning Emilio to check the back of the couch. And oh, they were discussing houses, he wanted to know what they were looking for. “Normal ones,” she said, like it was the most obvious thing in the world. Like Regan subscribed to the rules of obvious. (The only thing she subscribed to were emojis). “Like, um… Places with sturdy windows. Or where people have died in… or where birds fly at a higher frequency, stuff like that,” again, she was so aware that none of that would sound normal to him. But every extra wrinkle that formed between his brows gave her extra life.   

The mention of a morgue dipped her mood a little bit, if only cause… she wished Regan wanted something to do with her old job. The job she loved more than anything. She wished Regan came to her asking if they could have a morgue in the basement. She’d built the morgue herself if there was ever a sign that Regan wanted to go back to the place where she found her purpose. “Nope, no morgue, ”Jade pursed her lips, shrugging off that feeling super quickly. “She’s making inquiries about a house we saw on Decompee Ave. It’s actually totally normal… ish. And it has a lawn, so I’m definitely growing something there,” the idea of domestic bliss with Regan brought back a smile to her face. She took a bite of her sandwich, nodding when the flavors hit. She chose a good one, yup. “Maybe the next sandwich I’ll bring you will be with fresh veggies grown in my garden.” And shoot, she spilled some honey mustard on her shirt. She reached inside her pocket, cause she always carried extra napkins, just in case, but something else got in the way. 

“Oh! I don’t remember packing this,” she pulled out a ripe banana out of her pocket, waving it in Emilio’s face. “It's a good source of potassium, right?” She was positive that was debunked a while back, but hey, bananas were still delicious! “Do you want it?”

—

Her expression told him that she figured he ought to own a mop, but Emilio was also pretty sure she hadn’t really expected him to. When he’d lived in this apartment full-time, before the Teddy of it all, he hadn’t owned much of anything. The mattress in the bedroom was there when he’d moved in; the couch that had been replaced by another of Regan’s antics had come from a dumpster. (The desk he’d used for Axis had also come from a dumpster, but no one seemed anywhere near as bent out of shape about that one as they all were about the couch. Apparently, some pieces of furniture were acceptable to pull from dumpsters while others weren’t.) Maybe that, in part, was why Jade and Regan moving in together made sense to him. His own life had been pretty shit before Teddy insisted he move into their too-big house, and things were better now. Jade (and Regan, fine) deserved to have things better, too. He wanted that for them, even if he wasn’t so good at saying it. Still… “Lot of pressure to put on a couch.” His tone was dry, expression lightly amused. “Lot of pressure to put on a couch in my apartment. You really didn’t have anywhere else you could have sent it? I know you have other friends.” Friends with bigger spaces to store couches. Friends with mops to clean up the chalk. Friends who weren’t Emilio, which would make this whole thing not his problem. That was the most important bit.

But it was too late to change it now. The couch was here, in his apartment, and Jade definitely wasn’t going to move it until she had a house with Regan to move it to. And Emilio didn’t spend nearly as much time in this apartment as he used to, anyway, so it wasn’t like it mattered. The couch could stay here if it needed to. The chalk drawing could remain on the floor. There were bigger things to worry about. For example… “Spontaneous? Does this mean something in English I don’t know about? Or is Kavanagh different than she was the last time I saw her? Maybe you need an exorcist more than a couch.” 

He snorted at her promise, nodding his head. “Mmm, maybe you text me before you bring the cavalry. Spend a lot of time in those sheets. And the halls. And the kitchen counters.” His expression was flat and his tone was unapologetic, though he definitely would have denied the last one if someone like Levi brought it up. The house was a little too full for such activities now, but there had been a period where Teddy and Emilio had been more or less the only occupants. They’d made good use of that time. 

He’d also probably deny the fact that he was a little impressed with the couch. The one at Teddy’s hid many knives, but there were no pockets designed for such things on it. The hiding spots were more makeshift than anything else, things stuck between cushions and behind pillows to ensure that no one seated could be caught off guard and unarmed. This was much better. And, with the strange desire to shove a banana in Jade’s pocket out of the way, Emilio could really admire it. He listened as Jade described the kind of places she and Regan were looking at, the number of wrinkles forming between his furrowed brows growing with each addition. “These are not things people look at when buying houses,” he told her, though he was hardly the expert on such things. His house in Mexico had been purchased solely because of its proximity to his family, with nothing else considered. He’d never bought any other houses. He’d never even really chosen where to live. The apartment in Worm Row had been something of convenience, Teddy’s home one he’d more or less been dragged into kicking and screaming (or so he’d claim). Maybe people did look into things like the ones Jade mentioned when buying houses.

It wasn’t important, anyway. No, what was really important was that that itch was back in his fingers. The weight in his pocket had returned and, with it, the desire to transfer said weight to Jade’s pocket without explanation. He half listened as she went on about growing things in her yard, humming in quiet acknowledgement. “Peppers,” he offered. “Should grow peppers.” He almost added that his sister had grown peppers in Mexico, that she’d cooked with them and brought food to his house back when the things he ate tasted real and not like ash, but saying that felt like saying too much. He wasn’t sure he could talk about Rosa without the topic falling into the slayer of it all, and it was easier to avoid that subject with Jade, these days. 

She pulled the banana from her pocket, and the desire to replace it with the one in his own grew into something hard to push down. He stared at the banana, eyes darting to her face. Leaning forward, he took the banana with one hand… and used the other to subtly drop the second one into her pocket. “Put it in one of your knife pockets,” he said flatly. “For later.” He demonstrated by dropping the banana into one of the pouches on the sofa. “There you go.”

—

Okay, maybe it was a lot of pressure to put on a couch (or two couches and an ottoman), maybe she was putting all her hopes and dreams for the future she wanted with Regan in a piece of furniture, but Jade wasn’t gonna admit that. And let Emilio be right, in this economy? Nuh-huh. Her couch was still the best couch in the world, so she liked her odds. If any couch in the world had her back, it would be this one. Yup. (And most of them, probably. That was what couches did for backs, anyway). Emilio was still super confused by her and Regan’s decision to send the couch to him, though, for whatever reason. So Jade paused on that, nibbled on that nugget a little longer. “If you’re looking for validation you can say it, you know? I will validate you so hard,” she inched closer with an all too pleased grin on her face. “I wanted you to have my couch, what about it? Just like I’d take care of any couch you ever decide to get, chalk outline or not.” 

People like them didn’t get to have friends for long, didn’t they? She wasn’t discovering anything new. Duty and death had a way of cockblocking meaningful relationships, especially when you were all in about it. Like, almost the entirety of the little crew she created when she got into town was already out of her life. (And sure, that was mainly cause of her dabbling in villainy, but… one reflection at a time, okay?). 

People snapped in and out of her life, friendships fizzled out, and trust broke to irreparable extents (it was the price to pay, she never questioned it) (and maybe, possibly, she was realizing that she should have). But Emilio had stayed. And he tried talking to her about the hard stuff even when all she wanted was to cover her ears and yell louder than him. And sometimes he said weird stuff, like he trusted her (for some inexplicable reason) and most of all, he showed up. He complained all the way through, obviously, but he showed up. She knew that if she was beaten to a pulp, barely breathing in a dirty alley and she called, he’d show up. She knew that if Regan needed help defeating silly virtual murderers, he’d show up. Actions always spoke louder than words with him. And wasn’t that the type of stability she and Regan deserved in their lives? “You are the friend I wanted guarding this couch. Couches, I mean…” she glanced quickly at the rectangle on the floor. Yup, still there. (Still not a couch). She totally should’ve bought those extra cushions at least.  

As expected, Emilio took the bait, arguing against Regan being described as spontaneous. Oh, if he only knew how spontaneous Regan could be when it came to stuff like seeing maggot masses or carrying dead deer through a bog. “I’m telling ya, spontaneous…” But actually, Jade needed to save that little tidbit of info for the future (at a moment it could reach maximum comedic effect). She laughed at his comment, her expression quickly shifting from a grin to something more serious when he went on about his sexcapades. She let out a fake scoff, smacking his arm with the back of her hand. “You’re so crass sometimes, have some decorum,” she didn’t keep a straight face at that, her act crumbling with a chortle. She nudged Emilio to continue examining the couch, absolutely delighting in the way another little line was added between his eyebrows the more she explained their ideal home. Of course, she had to double down on that, committing to the bit. “They’re totally very sought conditions for most home owners, you just haven’t been in the market for a while,” she shrugged, letting out a dramatic sigh.    

Amid discussions of sex and houses and gardens (so basically every typical conversation between them), Jade clocked the sudden misty look on Emilio’s face. She had enough context already to realize he was flashbacking hard to times before he lost his whole world. She watched him with a gentle smile on her lips, waiting for him to stop looking like he was having That’s so Raven visions. “I will grow peppers, actually” she promised softly, making a mental note to ask later which one exactly. He probably had thoughts on that as well. “But it was totally my idea first, you don’t get bragging rights if they turned out amazing. Which they will.” Was there an equivalent to the Jade sauce but for gardening? Maybe Siobhan would know. But like, she was pretty sure the Jade sauce had the range for soil as it did for worms, she was a multitalented queen. (Cause it was already compost, technically). Her garden (their garden) would be the most fertile garden to ever garden, and she’d get to share peppers with her friends.

The second time around she did feel Emilio’s movement, and the extra weight in her pants. She only had so many pockets (she didn’t wear cargo pants, after all). He took the banana she offered and placed it in one of the pockets, plastic cover protecting the frame bunched up in the crease as a result. “But… they’re knife pockets, not banana pockets…” and probably like, remote control pockets, but Jade narrowed her eyes. Something was lowkey odd. Highkey, really. With her free hand, she held out a second banana to Emilio. “And now, I’m positive I didn’t ride her with two bananas in my pockets. Are you trying to tell me something?” 

—

It was jarring, somehow, to hear Jade reply so easily that she’d sent the couches here because she’d wanted him to be the one to look after them. Emilio found it strange, though he didn’t think he was supposed to. He’d been the kind of person people trusted in the past — his mother may not have liked him, but she’d been willing to rely on him when she needed someone to take care of things, and so had Juliana, and Rhett, and Rosa, and Edgar, and Lucio — but it all felt far away now. The man who had been trustworthy and reliable in Mexico felt like a different person than the man who stood in this apartment staring at a couch and the outline of a couch, being told that he was trusted with both. He wasn’t sure he’d earned it, but Jade was giving it to him all the same. And maybe there was nothing he could do about that. He trusted Jade; maybe part of that meant allowing her to trust him back.

So he didn’t make a comment about how she probably shouldn’t trust him, and he bit back the urge to make one about how he wasn’t sure he really wanted her couch (or couches) in his apartment, too. He rolled his eyes, pretended to be irritated, and let the soft look on his face betray the fact that he really wasn’t. 

“Yeah, well, if Teddy ever buys a couch and has nowhere to put it, I hope you know I’m telling them to send it to your house,” he replied. It was as much a reciprocation of trust as it was a gripe, and he figured Jade would know as much. Emilio had more friends than he used to, more friends than he’d ever meant to make in this town, but he had few who understood him the way Jade did. He had few who’d grown up the way he had, who knew what it was like to be raised a weapon rather than a child and carry the expectations that came with that designation. He and Jade didn’t see eye to eye on hunting things, sometimes — though he thought she might have been wavering a little lately — but she still understood the bulk of it. She still knew what it was like to live your whole life just waiting for the end of it. That wasn’t the kind of thing Emilio took for granted. Their friendship wasn’t the kind of thing he’d take for granted, either. Even if that meant letting someone draw the outline of a couch on his floor.

He rolled his eyes as she insisted that Regan really was spontaneous, deciding not to ask for any specific examples because he knew exactly what kind of examples Jade would provide. It wasn’t as if he cared hearing about Jade’s sex life; he knew plenty about it, had been a part of it for a while there. It was just… a little odd to hear about Jade’s sex life with Regan. Regan Kavanagh, Emilio thought, was someone whose sexual habits and preferences he preferred not to think about in any sense whatsoever. (He wondered if there were worms involved. The thought disgusted him so much that he made a face.) “Me?” He huffed, hiding his amusement. “I don’t even give details. You give details. Too many details.” He rolled his eyes, still studying the couch as she continued to describe her ideal home. “That’s such bullshit. No one but Regan is looking for shit like that.” He hated that he was only about seventy percent certain.

The fact that Jade never seemed to comment on the faraway look he got sometimes was another reason why he valued their friendship so much. She didn’t press him for answers, didn’t ask for more than he was willing to give, and he liked that. He needed that. Emilio was a box secured with so many locks, that keys didn’t even exist for all of them. People could shake the box, could rattle the hinges and pry at the edges and, if they kept at it long enough, a few things might slip out. But it was an uncomfortable process, an unnatural one; he preferred to avoid it, and Jade was always willing to let him in spite of her curiosity. He liked that, appreciated it. She’d grow peppers, but she wouldn’t ask him why. He rolled his eyes as she insisted that she’d claim credit for the idea, expression amused. “Yeah, yeah,” he agreed. “It’s all yours. I’m sure they’ll be great.” She’d bring him some, he knew, and Teddy would cook them into some complicated dish he didn’t understand. And they wouldn’t taste like they had years ago, but he’d eat them anyway. He’d feel decent when he did. And it’d be good. 

Less good, maybe, was this strange urge with the banana. The second he dropped the latest one into Jade’s pocket, he was filled with a strange sense of relief; like scratching an itch, or moving out of a position you’d held for too long to remain comfortable. “You can put bananas in knife pockets.” His pockets were knife pockets, after all, and he was pretty sure he already felt another banana in one. He needed to put this one in Jade’s pocket, too, except… she was catching on. Of course she was catching on, because he was putting bananas in her pockets. It wasn’t really subtle. “I think there is something wrong with my jacket,” he said seriously. “It keeps — there are bananas. And they need — I need to —” He yanked the latest one from his pocket without really thinking, pushing it into Jade’s pocket in a fluid movement. “I don’t know what’s going on.”

—

“Puh-lease, be my guest!” Jade grinned up at him feeling totally victorious (hey, wasn’t that a nice show?), cause the fact that he was even entertaining this hypothetical scenario was a win for her. He was ridiculous, his tough act almost as convincing as Regan’s ‘I’m human’ act. (They should’ve taken pointers from her, cause her ‘holding it together’ routine was still fooling everybody around). But well, people had to be some level of ridic to be in her life, didn’t they? It was like a moth to a flame for Jade. That way, she was the normal one of the bunch, yup. Exactly. That was how it was meant to be (that was definitely what was happening now).

Jade lifted a finger, to stop Emilio right there. “Nuh-huh. There’s no such thing as too many details. It’s called storytelling, Emilio. The juice is in the details. Keep it in mind,” she raised a pointed eyebrow at him, tapping her temple, cause she was imparting genius wisdom for free. “I like my brain to be wet and pounding with details,” she bit the inside of her cheek, holding off from dropping the very obvious innuendo lingering in her words. (Cause she didn’t even mean like that) (Sometimes she just said things that could be misinterpreted as suggestive. That was all). Another wrinkle appeared on his face, so that meant she had to keep going, like it was her sustenance. “I would never do that, why would I lie? We’re like, fighting three other families who want the same house, so people are definitely into that,” it was true, actually… which made Jade wonder if the other people were also banshees. Or death stans. (Or serial killers). Or just generally people with excellent taste. 

Even if it was like, a small thing (a silly thing, her mind wanted to point out), Jade appreciated the vote of confidence over the whole garden thingy. She wasn’t gonna get all… serious about it (when would she ever?) but confidence wasn’t something people bestowed upon her very often. Rarely ever. It went back to like, the beginning of times probably, when her sibling used to hover over her while imparting any kinda lesson. Cause why would she ever do anything they could, but better? (And she pretended she loved it cause, attention! Right?). She shut down that window into the past super quick once Ruby’s voice started drifting a little closer to the forefront of her mind, before it could awaken the reminders of her failures, and focused on what mattered. Peppers. And gardens. And her gorgeous, gorgeous couch. 

And… bananas? (Where… the minions financing this ad spot?)

She clicked her tongue, taking the knife pockets in her couch more seriously than she took… well, just about everything. (Cause obviously, she couldn’t even vouch for her D with the same conviction these days). “I dunno, I feel like bananas are meant to be elsewhere. Like, on bread. Or… banana split.” She shuffled toward the desk and dropped her sandwich there, since clearly they had like, important stuff to think about. Namely, was Emilio about to come out as a banana enjoyer? Was this all his evil plan to get Regan to finally bake him some banana bread? (Extra mayo). Cause he would never ask, obviously. He’d go about it in a roundabout way, like… pretending there was something wrong with his jacket? Uh-huh. Sure, buddy. 

Jade placed her hands on her hips, watching as Emilio wasn’t even subtle the third time, pushing another banana into her front pocket. (It was a little sus how a full banana could fit into her woman's jeans’ pocket, but). But he looked like, seriously confused about the whole situation. She extended her hand, looking expectantly. “Well, how many more do you have in there?” It felt like the weirdest of Dejavus. Jade was pretty sure she’d ‘what do you have there? Lullaby like, yesterday. Except Emilio didn’t make it a habit out of bringing her random items. Or was he a black cat who loved to yap. But like, he did have the personality of a cat. “Show me,” she insisted. “Is this your way of saying you’re into baking now? Be honest. I could probably ask Regan to come over after work and whip us some bread.”

—

People had never been something Emilio understood very well. He often felt he’d only known his siblings when they were young, that they’d all been strangers to one another in adulthood. Even with Juliana, they’d both maintained a habit of closing their eyes to the pieces of one another that didn’t fit easily into the palms of their hands, choosing to ignore the things that were too heavy to carry with ease. She’d pretended he was a better hunter, he’d pretended she was a better mother, and when they fought and the pretending got harder, they’d both pretended it didn’t matter in the long run. For years, he’d convinced himself that that was all love was — standing next to someone and pretending. He had loved his wife. It wasn’t the kind of thing he’d ever doubted. But now, in Wicked’s Rest, he was beginning to understand that sometimes, love was a lot more than just pretending.

He didn’t understand Jade, but he didn’t pretend to, either. She said things that made no sense, and he told her, without hesitation, that the words coming from her mouth were strange and difficult to understand. And he loved her, and she loved him, and neither of them really pretended anymore. It was the same with Teddy, with Wynne. With Regan, too, even if he’d never admit to that. He didn’t need to understand people to love them; it was more of a relief than he’d ever thought it would be.

“It’s going to be a big couch,” he threatened, and he felt light. “It’ll take up your whole living room. You won’t be able to walk.” He wondered if Teddy would humor him if he actually decided to find a big couch to take up Jade’s entire living room just to get back at her for the chalk on his floor. Teddy was usually pretty willing to go along with his petty schemes, but they also liked Regan and Jade. He figured he had a fifty-fifty shot at convincing them. Maybe sixty-forty if he put out. 

Jade kept going, because she always did. She talked about her brain, big and wet, and Emilio made a face. “I don’t even think you have a brain,” he said childishly. “I think it’s all empty in there. Lots of free space. You should have put your couch there.” There was no way they were competing for places when their standards included shit like people dying in houses they wanted to buy. This town was weird and all, but there had to be a line drawn somewhere. “If anyone else is trying to buy the same houses Regan likes, we need to check their basements,” he said. It was meant to be a joke, so he pushed away the brief flash of memory of Caleb’s basement, of the chair Aesil tied him to and the blood on the floor. He was over that. He was. It was nothing, it was fine. (Eventually, he figured, repeating it would make it true.)

The bananas worked in his favor, in this case. The overwhelming urge to stick them in Jade’s pockets was enough to outweigh the downward spiral that threatened to tug him to the floor, so he leaned into it. “They fit in the pockets,” he pointed out, nodding to the one he’d dropped in the knife pocket. It did fit pretty perfectly, as if the pocket were designed for a banana. Maybe all pockets were, Emilio thought. (Yeah. There was some kind of magic bullshit going on here. He’d never thought of bananas in pockets before this moment.) 

“I don’t have any in here,” he replied, somewhere between irritable and perplexed. “They just keep popping up.” He held open the pocket so she could see inside and, at the moment, it was void of bananas. There were knives, there were stakes, there was holy water; there shouldn’t have even been room for a banana, with hot overstuffed his pockets were. And yet, when he pulled back and let the pocket fall closed again, he could feel one in there. Groaning, he pulled it out, immediately pushing it into Jade’s pocket. All semblance of secrecy was gone now; she knew he was putting bananas in her pockets, he knew he was putting bananas in her pockets. Everyone knew he was putting bananas in her pockets. He still couldn’t stop. “I think this is your fault. I think your couches did this.”

—

“Oh nooo, not a big couch” Jade shuddered as if she were shaking in her boots. Like Emilio hadn’t noticed she was three apples tall. A big couch would never hurt her. Emilio, however… “And then Teddy will be too far away for cuddles, you played yourself,” her lips twisted into a fake frown, “are you sure you want that, buddy?” she challenged him, wiggling her eyebrows at him. “I bet yours won’t even have knife pockets,” a beat passed, and Jade forgot she was messing with him. “But it should, you know? I’ll give you the details on the model so you can look it up,” and sure, there was a ‘besties matching’ fire that had suddenly stoked in her heart, but she was gonna be so chill about it.  

Emilio had the gall to make a face at her words, and Jade decided that it gave her more life than any added wrinkle between his brows did. She cracked up, fully immersing in the silliness of the banter. “Pft. I’m sorry to disappoint, there’s like no free space at all actually. It’s big, lemme tell ya. And bulging. Regan thinks so. Doesn’t matter what you fill it with,” that’s exactly why she knew her brain was so large. Cause she had so much room for so many things at all times. Right about now, there was this convo, and also like, the minions (due to their association with bananas), and then Gru, which led to The Office, which led to TV shows, which led to thinking about snuggling in bed with Regan while she pirated Yellowjackets, which led to the 18+ section of her brain. (Which included some sultry saxophone music playing in the background) (Which catapulted her back to pop culture, via CRJ association). Wait, what were they… “I bet my brain’s bigger than yours,” that was probably true, also. She did hurt her mom’s hooha when she came out, the odds were stacked in her favor. 

She knew it was a silly argument, and Emilio did too. (And did the fact that the added lines on his face were around his mouth and his eyes make her feel a little fuzzy inside? Maybe so). Neither would back down and that was fun. Like childlike fun, right? Hypothetically. Maybe she didn't know what being seven was, and she assimilated whatever trendy movies depicted childhood in a fun way. Cause her seven (and Emilio’s) involved a knife in each hand and learning where to stab to reap the best results. And it didn’t involve silly quips about big brains or couches, it involved her eldest brother snapping at her in moments where she could not live up to his expectations. (Her brain was definitely put into question, just not in a jokey way). Luckily, another tab opened in her mind sticking out to the forefront and leaving that uncomfy reflection behind. She snapped her fingers at Emilio’s suggestion, reaching a new level of excitement. “Good idea. If we find something on them we can snitch about it, so their chances will lower. And the house will be ours,” She clapped her hands, fully planning this stakeout. (Oop, another tab open). She was pretty sure she could find out where the others’ offers for their dream house lived anyway. “I’d like to see badass P.I in action”.

Jade stared at the bananas once more, hands still on her hips. Just cause they fit in pockets, it didn’t mean they should be stuck in every crevice available. She was pretty sure the Emergency Department would agree and sponsor her message. She looked inside his pocket, unsurprised to learn he was being truthful. This was exactly the kinda whimsical she supported. She was totally intrigued. “Huh…” and then outta nowhere, another banana was born, as soon as she backed away. Her pocket was a victim again of Emilio’s bananas. “I did this? I’ve spent more time with the couches than you have, you don’t see me pulling bananas out of my pockets…” She opened her hand just in time Emilio pulled out another one, and she intercepted it before it reached her pocket. “I wish you would’ve picked like, watermelons or mangos,” no offense to bananas, lovely queens as they were, just… she was in the mood for something fresher. “Are you sure you don’t have some in there?” It was worth a shot. But the more she thought about eating, the more she went over what they’d done since she arrived. “Wait you brought cheese from the bonfire, didn’t you?” She smiled innocently, cause welp! it might have been her fault after all.

—

She wasn’t taking him very seriously, which… was probably fair, given the subject matter. Emilio was threatening her with a big couch, and it was probably an empty threat, anyway, and they both knew it. Still, he scowled as she began poking holes in his plan. “Teddy would not stay far away, even on a big couch. You don’t know how much they like to be close.” Teddy was tactile, and Emilio liked that. Sometimes, he needed to touch things to remember they were real, needed to feel something under his fingers to understand that it wasn’t going anywhere. He wasn’t sure if Teddy knew that, or if they just liked to hang off him for their own reasons. Probably a mixture of both, given how in tune with him his partner tended to be. His expression turned more interested at the mention of knife pockets, and he nodded. “Right now, I just put them between the cushions,” he commented. “Behind the pillows, under the table. Pockets would be better.” No chance of anyone accidentally sitting on one that way. He knew he’d never hear the end of it if Levi ended up with a knife in its ass because Emilio left one sitting in a bad position. 

Despite his expression — or, more likely, because of it — Jade continued talking about her brain. Emilio picked up one of the pillows resting on the intruding couch, tossing it in her direction like the pinnacle of maturity he was. “Your brain is tiny,” he insisted. “Like a peanut. Mine is bigger. And better, too.” He wasn’t sure how true it was. Emilio had never considered himself a particularly smart man. It had always taken him a little longer than it took other people to pick up on even the most basic of concepts, like things had trouble settling in his head. He’d never even had any kind of formal education, so he couldn’t speak on his test taking skills or ability to do homework. The only reason he even knew how to read was because Lucio had insisted on teaching his sister’s children as much, claiming it was the kind of thing they’d need to know even as Elena herself had responded dubiously. When it came to teaching Flora, it had been generally agreed that Juliana would be in charge of the more intellectual things. Odds were, Jade did have Emilio beat in the smarts department.

Odds of Emilio admitting to that remained slim to none, of course.

It was almost relaxing, arguing like this. When it was lighthearted, when winning or losing the argument had little to no effect on anything else in any kind of way that mattered, any kind of way that was real, bickering became less of a frustration and more of a way to relieve stress. He and Jade could fight about who had the bigger brain and know that neither would ever berate the other for stupid decisions. He could make a mistake and understand that Jade’s first response, every time, would be to ask how she could help him overcome the consequences. It was simple and it was easy and it was nice. Even when Jade took his statement about the ‘competition’ she and Regan had for any houses they were interested in being suspicious in entirely the wrong way, Emilio felt at ease. He snorted as she began to launch into some gameplan full of sabotage and stakeouts. “If you want to see the badass P.I. in action,” he said dryly, “you have to pay for his services. I do not work for free.” Granted, Regan had probably paid him for enough little things that he owed Jade some free services, but he’d never admit to that, either.

He wouldn’t have even admitted to the bananas if she hadn’t called him out on it directly, but carrying on the charade would have certainly grown exhausting sooner rather than later. He glared at her as she tried to avoid the banana, pleased when it found its way into her pocket, anyway. And he didn’t know why he was pleased about that, but maybe it didn’t matter. “How much time have you spent with the couches? Because they have gone from the store to my apartment.” Maybe there was some switch with it, some way the store manager had turned on the banana shit the moment the couches — couch, goddamn it, one couch, he was not doing this — left the warehouse floor. “I didn’t even pick the bananas! I don’t like bananas!” He didn’t like any food, most of the time, but he was beginning to form a vendetta against yellow fruit specifically. “What? Yes, I brought cheese. I was eating it before you came here.” It almost sounded as if he was bragging, as if consuming food was a thing he should have been rewarded for. (Teddy would have rewarded him, but Jade probably didn’t want the details on that.)

—

Maybe that was literally what she should’ve told Regan when the inconvenience of having a big couch came out. Like, it was true for her too, no matter how big a distance was between them, she wouldn’t have stayed away. But then again, there was something (or a lot) to be said about being cramped and unable to escape Regan’s body in a tight space. Mmmm, yup. Jade was pretty sure they chose the right, actually. Her mind drifted to where it was always going to drift, but before she could fully daydream about cuddling (right, cuddling) Regan on their new couch, Emilio had the nerve to interrupt and talk about pockets and stuff. Oh, right, cause… their couch was the best couch. And she was recommending it. “See, that’s exactly why you need the pockets. We don’t want anyone getting stabbed in the butt.” Not accidentally, at least. But she didn’t think Teddy or Emilio invited to their home anyone who actually deserved to be stabbed in the butt.  

The pillow came fast and unexpectedly at Jade for her to do something about it. Wow, so much for always being alert to incoming threats. Lesson learned. This was fine though, cause her extra soft pillows felt extra soft against her skin. Another point for their couch. But like, her jaw still hung open, flabbergasted by Emilio’s actions. “I’m choosing to trust the doctor on this, you know? She’s a woman of science. And she thinks my brain is big. Yours is probably like, really smooth,” but also, if this conversation was anything to go by, maybe he wasn’t alone in that. And this was his fault, obviously. Her brain cells (you know, all the ones) always decided to take five in his presence.  

“Wow, not even a family discount,” She crossed her arms over her chest at his request. A banana stuck out for each hand. Like they were blades. It was pretty funny. (Anything could be a weapon if you tried hard enough, probably). And of course, he was gonna charge. He was pretty sure he was squeezing as much cash as he could out of Regan. Well, actually she was positive of the fact, but, “fine, we have to support local business or whatever. Regan would pay for it too, anyway, she’s like… single-handedly keeping your business afloat. And it’s for a good cause, we gotta scout the competish,” she lifted an eyebrow at him, an unspoken threat behind the gesture. “She might wanna tag along, you know? Isn’t that super fun? We’re gonna need extra M&Ms in the trail mix for her. But don’t worry about that, I’ll handle the snacks.” And she was being totally generous by not suggesting playlists (even if, she was gonna curate a few just in case), cause Regan didn’t like music, and Emilio would probably grumble about how that’s not how he does his job or whatever. 

Plus, she did feel a little bad about bringing this potential banana curse onto him. Not that, she was gonna let him blame her couch for it though. (Maybe the ottoman. He could blame the ottoman). “How much time I spent with it? Well, that day when we bought it, and now… that’s gotta be like, half an hour more than you have.” But Jade did like, consider for a beat the possibility that maybe it was true, and something went down to turn the couch into a banana tree. She was pretty sure that was a false lead though. Especially after Emilio confirmed he brought cheese from the bonfire. Cause it wasn’t the first strange thing she was told about wacky things happening right after eating some. Like Ryan, who was allegedly mooing after. And Regan’s tongue was rainbow for a bit after. Huh. “So. Here’s the thing. The cheese might be the main culprit,” and was her use of detective language just her way of showing off to see if he could bring them along for the stakeout? Maybe so. 

“So what you’re gonna do is… not have that cheese anymore. I know, it was delicious, it’s a real tragedy that you can’t have more,” she pouted, wondering what other curses her cheese had caused. “My guess is, you’ll probably be fine after your stomach does its thing,” no need to get into details, smooth brain jokes aside, he understood. “I will want every banana you pull out in the process of it though. I’m telling Regan to make an apology banana bread. Do you have like, a tote bag or something, I can’t take ‘em all in my pants”.

—

As much as he hated to admit it in this particular moment (because she was being annoying), Jade made a pretty good point about the value of couch pockets. Things like this really couldn’t be oversold, could they? You couldn’t put a price on not accidentally stabbing your partner’s dad in the ass. (Emilio was confident that he was in no danger of being stabbed in the ass by his knives, and Teddy knew him well enough to know exactly where every single one was hidden, so Levi was the most plausible victim for ass stabbings.) He shrugged at Jade’s insistence, as if he wasn’t already making a mental note to talk to Teddy about getting a couch with a few more knife pockets than the one they had now. 

For now, though, he was content throwing pillows. Had the couch come with all these, or had Jade purchased them separately? Teddy liked pillows. Their bed was overflowing with them. They liked anything that provided comfort, which often made Emilio wonder what it was they saw in him. In any case, though, the pillows could represent another selling point. They were soft, bountiful, and good projectiles in a pinch. The one he tossed sailed smoothly through the air before hitting Jade, though the impact didn’t seem to be a very painful one. (He hadn’t intended for it to be, though. He was pretty sure he could make a pillow painful if he put his mind to it.) “She has bias,” he pointed out stubbornly. “She would tell you your brain was good even if it was small and bad. Which it is.” His hand went to his head at the mention of his own brain, fingers unconsciously pushing through his curls in a way that seemed almost defensive. “My brain is not smooth. It’s a very good brain.” 

This kind of petty, back and forth bickering was the kind of thing he’d figured he’d lost after Mexico. He and his siblings hadn’t done it as often as other families might have — things in the Cortez family were always a little more ‘life or death’ than they probably were for most sibling groups — but there was a certain nostalgia that came with it all the same. It made the world feel a little less heavy. Jade was good at that; Emilio wondered, sometimes, if she was even aware of it. In any case, he found he couldn’t argue with her description of a ‘family’ discount; it felt more accurate than he’d really care to admit. “If anything, I should charge you more for being you,” he replied with a huff. “You are always talking. I could charge you by the word. Then I get rich. You’re lucky I don’t do this.” She relented quickly, of course; Emilio smirked at the victory, looking just a little smug. The expression faltered, of course, when Jade mentioned Regan tagging along. Every time she accompanied him on an investigation, things went weird. There were sewer rats that turned into goo and took his voice away, or little people who jumped out of a computer and stabbed him with safety pins. “Does she have to come?” There was a hint of a whine to his voice. “I don’t think we need snacks, either.” Usually, his stakeout kit included nothing more than a flask. M&Ms seemed like an unnecessary addition.

But Jade, of course, would hear none of it. She’d already moved on to the (in her defense, more interesting) mystery of the bananas. “Do you have any bananas?” She didn’t. He knew she didn’t, because he hadn’t felt any bananas in her pockets when he’d been shoving his in there. Jade had escaped whatever strange curse was looming over him… and as she spoke, he realized why that might be. “Jade.” His voice was flat and unamused. “Did you bring cursed cheese to a bonfire and share it with everyone? With me?” That was what he was most upset about. The rest of the town could have banana curses, and he wouldn’t mind. But when it became his problem, things were just… a little different. 

He threw his hands up in the air, frustration building as he felt yet another banana already present in his pocket. He reached down and pulled it out, tossing it at her. “How long does it last? I cannot keep giving people bananas. Do you know what happens if I’m on a case, and I give someone a banana? Maybe they stab me, Jade! Maybe they stab me about the banana!” He was being a little dramatic. Odds of someone stabbing him over a banana seemed slim. But… Emilio liked being dramatic, sometimes. Especially in situations like this one. “I’m not giving you a bag. Carry the bananas in your arms. You deserve to have to do that.” 

—

Jade’s jaw dropped dramatically when Emilio accused Regan of having a bias. (So true, so fair, so valid) (But that wasn’t bias, that was just Regan having impeccable taste, that was all). She was so not conceding to Emilio though. “Nuh-uh. No way, she’s like the most impartial person to ever person. She likes plain yogurt, that’s how impartial she is” and sure, Jade knew that had nothing to do with objectivity and a whole lot to do with her partner’s adorable quirks, but if she asked Regan she would find a way to make plain yogurt sound like the most objective statement in the world. Anyway, what mattered here, was that Regan liked Jade, ergo… big brain (?). The dots were totally connected. Practically fused together. And just cause she saw the way Emilio reacted to her smooth-brained comment she decided to drop it. He had like, a chip on his shoulder about it. Which was kinda weird, cause he was a whole Private Investigator and that wasn’t something people who were actually smooth-brained could do. Oh well, everybody had their insecurities, didn’t they? (Except… fine, she wasn’t fooling anyone anymore either).

“I brighten your days and this is how I’m treated,” Jade bowed her head in mock defeat. In the words of her very good pal, who was due to pick up a candle next week: wowowowhowdare. “I can’t believe you’d do that to a sweet girl like me. You better be paying for the drinks if you get rich.” She always thought about that. Just… spending all her money to make her friends happy if she ever won the lottery. And probably bribe Rihanna to finish that freaking album. But she figured bribing a billionaire would probably be hard. Whatever she had to offer would be like, tip money for them. (But also, if they were greedy enough to become billionaires, maybe they’d be greedy enough to accept tips). Jade scoffed at Emilio’s apprehension over Regan tagging along their stakeout. “You say it like you two aren’t planning your next movie night,” Plus… she had ulterior motives, of course. She wanted them to bond. It’s not like she didn’t see how Regan yearned for her brothers. She would deny it, she would claim it was what had to be done in order to become an instrument, even now, she might claim they were better off away from her, but Jade knew there was a big place in Regan’s soggy heart for them. (And probably a smaller one for Al, but a place still). “She will come and we’re gonna have the best of times,” she tacked on, a little more insistent than before.

They were gonna have to pin in that particular convo, though, cause Emilio had finally figured out why he had the impulse to shove bananas into her pockets. “What! I didn’t know it was cursed!” Jade lied, knowingly. Well, sorta. She did know about Regan’s tongue before the bonfire (but in what world was a rainbow tongue a curse?). She pressed her lips together, suppressing the cackle when he threw his hands in the air. She schooled her face to show a little more concern about the bananas sprouting from Emilio’s pockets. (And you know what? She was being so mature and grown by making a total of zero jokes about bananas in his pants). She caught the banana tossed at her in mid-air, magically making more space in her hands. She was a girly after all,  jeans with no pocket space had taught her how to fit as many things as possible in her hands. She had years of practice for this specific scenario. “I dunno how long it lasts, but you’re the only person in the world who’d be offended by getting free bananas, be so for real. I say the free bananas would make your rivals happy. And happy people get distracted, and that way, they’re easier to stab,” Jade nodded, and she would’ve tapped her temple to show this all came from her big, bulging brain, but her hands were bananaful. 

Emilio was being a big ol’ drama king, but in a way that made her chest just a little less tight from all the past weeks of… tightness. (And nope, forget it. She hit snooze on that breakdown once again) (Who knew, maybe it was really allergies all along!) She chortled, rolling her eyes at his antics. “Fine! I’ll put them all in my delivery box!” She suggested, which was a totally generous offer from her cause they technically didn’t know if the cheese was to blame. But you don’t look a gift banana in the mouth (or something). She sat on her fancy new couch, which had been tested back at the store, and sure, there was a cover preventing it from getting the full experience, but her entire lower back sighed in relief. She silently accepted the next banana, eyes twinkling smugly at his defeated expression. They would be here for a while, so… better get comfy. “While you wait for the final banana, why don’t I update you on how your sim is doing?” Emilio didn’t get a word in, actually she wasn’t sure he even got a breath in before she interrupted. “So, guess how many kids he’s adopted now…”

—

[majunju]

misc ymkr doodles frm 2023/4

[especdreamy]

PRIDE TIME!

(rbs appreciated!)

[bluesourkiwi]

Internet archive please come back alive i need to watch los simuladores with the subtitles

[pup-pee]

jesus ive been reading this comic 4 like 5 yrs

heres some emilio doodles bc bc idk

emi; “oh tobias! u dont have 2 b flawless 2 b perfect!”

yes im thinking about that 1 panel where tobi was just like “THATS A LIE”

[k4zp3rluvr]

STAMPS DE PERFECTOS DESCONOCIDOS!

originalmente esto solo lo iba a compartir a la gente de spacehey pero aprovecho de que finalmente he vuelto a usar tumblr los subire para que mas personas los usen :]

[int3rn3tb0y]

Emilio would 100% sound like Gideon Graves lowkey

[funkii-fox]

Sometimes i chew on the is insides of my cheek and lips. I usually do it when im bored, but sometimes when im stressed. It’s like fingernail biting or skin picking.

Recently I’ve been overwhelmed with school and stuff, so ive been pretty stressed. And my poor right cheek is paying the price 😭 it stings lightly, and it gets worse if i brush my teeth, toothbrush, or tongue on it. I was eating pasta earlier and it hurt! Help me!

[calcetin-sin-rombosman]

Hear me out

[nicsalazar]

Doggone it || Emilio & Nicole

TIMING: Mid July LOCATION: Worm Row PARTIES: @mortemoppetere & @nicsalazar SUMMARY: Perro and Nacho's playdate gets interrupted by a hedgehound. CONTENT WARNING: None

Nicole leaned against the fence —despite the rust that would likely stick to her jacket— arms crossed over her chest as she watched Nacho jump on one of the other dogs. Perhaps, with a little too much energy. The pair had enjoyed a short walk before coming to the park, taking advantage of the unusually favorable weather conditions, but apparently that hadn't lessened his excitement about making new friends.

On the other hand, Nicole’s anxiety was… mostly at bay, but it still lingered at the prospect of meeting a stranger. Someone she knew, but didn’t really know. She subtly glanced at Emilio, who similarly kept an eye on Perro. She didn’t mind the lack of conversation. It didn’t feel like either of them were trying to fill the silence with unnecessary chatter. Which was miles better than wanting to talk but not knowing what to say. The most common scenario for her. Though Nicole’s curiosity kept growing, the more times they did this whole playdate thing. She had been content exchanging a few pleasantries and sticking with dog talk on previous occasions. It helped break the ice, soothe her own awkwardness. But it couldn’t hurt to push a little, right? See where that got her. 

“So, Emilio—” Nicole was just stating his name, not trying to get his attention. His name, coupled with the one he gave his dog had her wondering. “Where’s that… where are you from?” 

There was tension clinging to his shoulders as he watched Perro run through the park, though he knew it wasn’t a necessary anxiety. It was something that hadn’t left him entirely in years now, something that had made a home in his chest and refused to leave. It subsided, sometimes, with people he knew well enough. He could hang out with Andy or Leticia without feeling it, could spend time with Metzli and Nora and feel it push itself to the backburner. But Nicole… Emilio liked her. She was decent enough. But she was also still close to a stranger, even after several of these outings. They stuck to small talk, and that was fine. That was easy. 

But it did nothing for the tension.

Maybe Nicole felt it too. That was just about the only reason Emilio could imagine for the sudden shift in policy here. Where she’d normally ask about Perro, she surprised him and asked about him instead. Without meaning to, Emilio bristled. “Mexico,” he replied, realizing belatedly that that was obvious. His accent tended to give him away, and his slippery grasp of English usually confirmed it. Shifting, he decided to get a little more specific, at least. “Oaxaca. Left a couple years ago. What about you?”

It wasn’t often Nicole experienced a conversational win. If she could call it that. Was that a term present in the English language? She supposed only people drowning in anxious thoughts would even think to have a name for that. But, yes, it was a good choice to have broadened the conversation, because Emilio didn’t shut her down. So, win. If anything he appeared less… himself. Well, the version of him that she’d met so far, which was a lot like if someone shoved a mirror in front of a twenty two-year old Nicole, but that was neither here nor there. Maybe even the more real version of himself. Or— 

She shook her head, putting a stop to the snowballing effect one simple concept had in her head. Stay present, cut that shit out. 

“Ah, that tracks” she hummed, only confirming her suspicions. “Never been there, must be beautiful,” why would she? She had no connections to Mexico. But Nicole tried not to overthink whatever came out of her mouth. Good luck with that. “I figured, you know…” she gestured at his entire existence, omitting all the other facts she had already gone over, because well, obvious. “Not a lot of people around here name their dog Perro. But I guess— it does sound like something white people would do just to…” she added the last bit absently, preoccupied with her dog, who had decided to start pushing one of the smaller dogs. “Nacho, knock it off”. As well trained as he was, he had always been oblivious to his own strength.  

Nicole uncrossed her arms, fidgeting with her sleeve instead when the same question returned her way. “I’m from here. Not here, here. Connecticut” she pursed her lips, casually avoiding stepping on the emotional landmine associated with that kind of information. “But…” she gestured at herself this time. “One side came from Guatemala. Another’s from Puerto Rico” though, there wasn’t much tethering to her culture these days. “Never actually touched either place. Would be cool though. Warmer”.  

Beautiful. Emilio wasn’t sure it was a word he would assign to his home. Not anymore, at least. Could a place be beautiful with blood in the dirt? Could a place be nice when your last memory of it was in fleeing for your life? He struggled, sometimes, to remember the good parts. He struggled to picture his daughter’s face without seeing it still and lifeless, struggled to remember his wife without remembering how her corpse had looked in the living room floor. He wondered if other people were better at it or if it was normal to only know people as ghosts once they were gone, even when you’d loved them with everything you had while they were alive. Maybe, he thought, he was just bad at loving. Maybe he was the problem.

“It was,” he said, instead of saying any of the things he was thinking. Nicole didn’t need to hear the rest of it, and he doubted she’d want to. They were acquaintances who sometimes met at the dog park and let their dogs chase each other around. There was no need to make things any deeper than they had to be. The conversation felt a little less stifling as it went on, and he found himself letting out a small sigh and accompanying it with half a smile. “Ah, white people do shit like that all the time,” he agreed. White Americans more often than most.

Watching her out of the corner of his eyes while he kept most of his attention on the dogs, he nodded. “I haven’t been to that one,” he said. “Connecticut.” He struggled a little with the pronunciation, making a face. “It get cold there? Not sure I’m ready for my first full winter in Maine. I’m not a fan of the cold.” He nodded again as she spoke of her heritage. “Parents speak Spanish at home? Or always English?”

Nicole might have skillfully avoided stepping into her own tricky territory, but for one mortifying second she feared she set Emilio up for it. Navigating Wicked rest was difficult like that sometimes, everyone carried so much baggage that having a simple conversation felt impossible. She kept her eyes ahead, not really looking anymore, too aware of her own body as she waited for an answer to come. And when it did, it was good enough for Nicole to move on. He didn’t provide further comment, which seemed like a sign to drop it. Maybe she’d ask about Mexico some other time. She huffed out a laugh, shaking her head at his quip. “Giving them middle names and shit” she mumbled to herself, the corners of her mouth curving into the faintest smile. 

She raised a shoulder, “eh, kind of a boring place, at least where I lived. You’re not missing much” Nicole imagined things would’ve been different in a big city as opposed to Eastford, but if she really stopped to think about it, no one ever mentioned Connecticut, did they? “It gets cold, yeah” she grinned, now turning her full attention toward him, a glimmer of amusement reached her eyes. “Oh, you’re not gonna like it. Layers… lots of layers” she squinted at him, “I think you’re in the wrong coast, if you want warm weather” the question was on the tip of her tongue. It was a classic, anytime she met someone new. Why Wicked’s rest, then? No one came here for pleasure. But she chose to take a roundabout. “Maybe once you’re done…doing whatever it is you’re doing here you should look into it”.  

She kept her smile in place, his question poking the dormant beast that were her memories. “Yeah… lots of Spanish at home. My grandparents, actually. They didn’t speak any English. Had to communicate somehow”. She had taken it for granted as a kid, but realizing not everyone grew up learning their native tongue made her grateful her family had tried to keep it alive. “I think…” she tilted her head, waiting for the thought to fully form in her head before blurting out nonsense. “Sometimes, English feels safer. Um. Like… it has no heart” it was a lot easier to communicate feelings that way, Nicole thought. “But also, it makes no fucking sense as a language, does it? Did you have a hard time?”

There were obvious differences in culture between the two of them, of course; even beyond her being born in America while he was born in Mexico, Emilio knew that their upbringings likely looked nothing alike. No one raised children the way hunters raised children, and few hunters raised children the way Elena Cortez had. Still, there were things to bond over. Still, there were people to mock. Emilio grinned, shaking his head. “Ay, why do they love to put different letters in their names? Things that don’t fit at all. They put a ‘y’ instead of an ‘e’ sometimes. Do you know that?” She probably did.

He hummed, wondering just how ‘boring’ a place could be. As a slayer, he tended to make his own excitement. Most places had an undead underbelly, even if the biggest portion of the population knew nothing of it. But few places were as active as Wicked’s Rest had proven itself to be. In a town full of the undead, Emilio got to stay busy. He liked it that way. The less time he had to think, the less he could drive himself mad with it. Connecticut probably wouldn’t have suited him. “Probably need to buy more jackets,” he acknowledged. “One of those big poofy ones. You think I could pull it off?” It was easier talking to her than he thought it’d be. Normally, Emilio required a lot more time before he’d allow himself to fall into this kind of quiet humor. But there was something familiar about Nicole, something that left him feeling a little more at home. A bit of shared culture, even if it was small, went a very long way. 

But then she spoke of where he might go when he was finished, and the humor faded. There was only one kind of ‘finished’ for him, and it wouldn’t see him packing up to move to the east coast. But that wasn’t the sort of thing you said to a near stranger, so Emilio only shrugged. “Yeah,” he agreed, maybe.” Luckily, things didn’t stay heavy for long. He listened to her speak of her grandparents, nodding his head. Maybe she had a point, about English feeling safer. In Spanish, Emilio felt he was more himself. He understood better, he communicated better. And that was a double-edged sword, sometimes. It felt so intimate, speaking the language he’d grown up with. Like he was showing the world a part of himself that he wasn’t sure he wanted them to see, like he was exposing a raw nerve to the air and begging someone to touch it. He didn’t always like it. “Oh, it does make no sense. I still have a hard time. People say things, sometimes, and it sounds like galimatías. Like words with no meaning. Don’t you think so?”

Nicole’s gaze darted skyward, contemplating Emilio’s point. No, really, why did they do that? Was that their way of pretending they had more culture than they did? Were they just…trying to be— whimsical? “They're a strange group of people…I’ve no clue” she frowned, offering a one shoulder shrug. The question stayed with her for a little longer than it should have. Until the conversation moved to fashion, and it elicited a chuckle out of her. She wasn’t the right person to weigh in on the matter.  

She half-turned toward him, seizing him up. Men's faces tended to blur for her anytime she stared at them too long. But she supposed Emilio was okay looking. A good jaw, symmetrical. Decent height. On the handsome side, if Nicole ignored the scent of alcohol imbued in him. But this was just playful banter. He wasn’t actually in need of fashion advice. “Hm, maybe. It’d look cozy on you. Might lose the tough guy cred, though…you okay with that?” granted, him having a dog who looked like that already took several points from him, but she wasn’t going to tell him that. 

She looked away, unconcerned that he didn’t take the poorly set bait. It had been vague enough to give him wiggle room. Nicole hummed, a smile spreading across her face as she heard him speak with his Spanish accent. She hadn’t heard anyone say galimatías since her grandpa. She didn’t know people used that term nowadays. “I guess… it’s different when you grew up with both mixed up. You know what never made sense to me, though? Sayings. That shit— it always makes less sense in English” she let out a huff, getting stupidly riled up as she recalled that damn counting chickens before the hatch thing. “Pisses me off”. Though maybe, that was her just being slow.

Nicole mused on all the ways the English language was flawed (don’t get her started on the phonetics), that she didn’t pick up the barking at first. The animals must’ve sensed something, but even as she scanned their surroundings,she couldn’t see anything out of the ordinary. She smacked Emilio in the arm, though the action wasn’t needed. He had also noticed the way the animals were acting up. 

“Me either.” Of course, Emilio didn’t tend to understand anyone. When you were raised the way he’d been raised, everyone else seemed strange in comparison. They got worked up over silly things that didn’t matter, they overlooked big things that did. None of it made any sense, and it was so difficult to wrap his head around it all. Sometimes, he didn’t realize that something that had been normal growing up for him was horrifying to strangers until he mentioned it in casual conversation. Always made things awkward.

But things weren’t awkward with Nicole. Not yet, not until he inevitably ruined it sometime in the future. He raised a brow at her comment, huffing a quiet laugh. “I think I’ll survive without it,” he confirmed. It was better, he thought, if people didn’t think you were tough when they first saw you. It meant they were more likely to hold back, to make a mistake. You could go a long way on someone else’s mistake; Emilio had managed to snatch survival out of impossible situations because of them.

He nodded, thinking of his own upbringing. English hadn’t really come into play until Rhett came around, until he started following a stranger around like a lost dog. The warden used plenty of sayings… but none of them were really Americanized. “Most of them sound stupid,” he agreed. “Pisses me off, too.” Though, really, what didn’t? 

He felt it first. The telltale sense of something undead, close enough to set him off, but far enough that he didn’t think much of it. But then, the barking started. Brow furrowed, he looked over to where Nacho, Perro, and a few other dogs in the park were all gathered around the fence, barking and growling at the vines and the trees on the other side of it. For a moment, Emilio wondered if there was simply an animal or something they’d all spotted… but then the vines themselves moved, and he shot to his feet quickly enough for it to be painful. “We should go grab them,” he said quickly, not sure how to explain his suspicions. 

She had seen this sort of… vine skeleton before. Years ago, hiking. It had been a deer, partly consumed by it, eating away at other living creatures in the vicinity. By then, Nicole had learned not to play the hero if she was alone. She just walked faster, disappeared from its sight. If it had any. Never saw anything like it again. But the memory never left her. The half eaten animals, with vines spreading through their fur, thorns sinking into flesh. Infected. The one slowly appearing through the fence wasn’t a deer. It was smaller. Had maybe been a fox, a dog, or a squirrel. It was hard to tell when all it remained were the vines taking on some sort of skeletal shape. 

It wasn’t pouncing on anyone yet, but Nicole wasn’t sure how long that would last, considering how distressed the dogs around the park were. She didn’t reply, only followed behind Emilio as they rushed to the animals. The few other owners around the park seemed to get a clue slowly, moving to pull their pets to safety. 

“Fire” Nicole urged Emilio as she crouched next to Nacho, hooking his leash and trying to convince him play time was over. “Got a lighter? Matches? That thing should go up in flames, no? It’s all plant”. She stood, stepping back from the creature, pulling Nacho along. The idea of just escaping with their dogs was tempting, leaving the vine creature to go back to the wilderness. But having this type of monster wandering around the area wasn’t safe for other pets, right? It could always creep back to where it came from, wait for a different time and pounce on other people’s pets. Maybe it didn’t know its way back, so it’d always be lurking around. Threatening other animals. They had to get rid of it. Make sure no one got hurt. 

Hedgehound. The word came to him immediately, sticking in his head with a few facts about it. It was like that, sometimes; like his head was a dictionary of undead things and how to kill them, like he was a well of knowledge that only knew how to destroy. In this case, he figured it was a positive. Hedgehounds weren’t the most dangerous undead things out there, but they certainly weren’t safe for animals to be around. They definitely weren’t good to have at a damn dog park.

Nicole seemed quick to agree with his sentiment that they needed to get to the dogs, and Emilio noted the fact that there was no shock there. No disbelief, no panic. Nothing that would exist in someone who didn’t already know that the world was a little bit bigger than what most people thought.

Apparently, she was pretty knowledgeable. Hedgehounds needed fire to be destroyed, and Nicole was asking if he had a match. Emilio took a moment to consider this as he scooped up Perro, gently steering a few of the other dogs away from the beast with his foot. “Lighter,” he confirmed. “Jacket pocket. You want to grab it for me while I get these guys out of trouble?” Perro and Nacho were safe, but Emilio didn’t want any of the other dogs here to fall victim to this thing while their owners were across the park socializing with one another and ignoring the chaos. 

Nicole nodded, though part of her grew wildly uncomfortable. Sure, she could grab the lighter. She could put her hands on another person’s body to retrieve the item that would solve all of their problems. Why would that be an issue? She made sure to touch as little of Emilio as possible before the lighter slipped through her fingers, bouncing on the ground. She picked it up, taking a second to watch Emilio help people with their pets, and then waited for the creature to react. To retreat. But the hedgehound was a slow creature, it didn’t understand that everyone was evacuating the park. It wouldn’t go by itself. So that really meant—

She looked at the lighter in her hands. Right. Emilio agreed, it was better to get rid of the monster than to let it go. Nicole lifted her gaze, scanning the area to assess her surroundings. The fence looked tall and sturdy enough to maybe prevent flames from jumping. To keep the burning contained. But she could never be completely sure. What if the wind changed? The treeline was at a safe distance, the fuel around them not too generous. The perks of coming to a beat up dog park. But— if the hedgehound ran as it caught on fire? 

She wouldn’t normally go into this without more consideration but…fuck— How was this normal anyway? Whatever came at them, they’d have to handle it after. Nicole hated the idea of starting a fire, but she hated the thought of animals being infected by the vines a little more. And maybe her priorities were fucked up, maybe not, but she’d reflect on it when Nacho and the rest of the dogs were no longer under its threat. She patted her clothes searching for a piece of paper. Something small, something easily extinguishable — at least in theory— to create some sort of small torch to throw at it. A receipt from the grocery store would have to do. She stepped closer to the creature, rolling the paper between her fingertips. Once she lit it on fire, she moved quickly, maneuvering close enough to extend her arm and twisting the paper against the side of its head. For a second it looked like it was ineffective, but then steadily, the fire began creeping up the creature.  

She was strangely careful in grabbing the lighter, but Emilio didn’t have time to question it. There were dogs to be saved. He trusted Nicole to do her part as he did his, ushering dogs across the park and towards their unattentive owners. Nicole knew enough to know how to kill a hedgehound, and that meant Emilio trusted her a little bit more than he had before, meant he figured she could handle herself long enough for him to get the dogs to safety.

Except… she was hesitating. She was looking uncertain, she was pausing. Emilio turned, ready to race back towards her and yank the lighter from her hand, ready to do it himself. He shouldn’t have worried. Nicole was on it. A second after that uncertain concern gripped him, she was searching for something to spark the flame, and then she was doing it. Lighting the paper on fire, then the hedgehound. The dogs, seeing the fire and feeling that instinctive fear that told them such things were dangerous, turned tail and ran, leaving only Nacho and Perro to stand behind their owners.

The hedgehound went up, flames dancing over every inch of it by the time Emilio made his way back to Nicole. He watched the fire with a faint fascination, the light reflected in his eyes. “Good,” he breathed. “Good move. Uh, should… burn itself out in a few minutes.” 

Fire was captivating. Nicole didn’t reject the warmth spreading beneath her sternum, watching the familiar sight before her. Despite being a firefighter —or maybe because of it— she understood why someone might be drawn to the beauty of it. From the casual bonfire, to the blazing inferno she dealt with every summer, to this, weak flames licking at the vines, leaving no trace of the life it took. As beautiful as it was unsettling. She threw what remained of the receipt on the ground, putting it out with the heel of her boot. Slowly she circled around the monster, attempting to kick away anything that could ignite. She would’ve tried drawing a fireline, but to their relief, it looked to be completely under control. Contained, provided the wind didn’t decide to make their evening any shittier. 

Nicole wasn’t sure if the creature was in any pain, which was the worst part of this. It didn’t look like it. It just stood there, didn’t protest, didn’t have a mouth to cry, didn’t fight or roll on the ground to try putting out the flames. It just let it happen. She turned around, checking how Emilio was faring with his own task. The park was nearly empty now, except for him, Perro and Nacho behind him. She nodded at him, gratitude in her eyes as she watched him approach. “So you know— knew… whatever this thing is?” She supposed there was a deeper implication in her words. Did he know the town wasn’t normal, then? It wasn’t hard to gather he might be in the known. Small comments in passing here and there. But no concrete evidence. 

Just like he said, it didn’t take long until the creature burned completely, remnants failing to propagate onto the rest of the field. Nicole stomped on the ashes, snuffing out anything that could potentially jump. “So much for a safe park” she scoffed, but the corner of her lips curled up. “Forgot to mention the thing” she waved at the ground. She blew a tense breath, handing back the lighter. “Thank you,” she nodded again, walking away from the ashes and reaching for Nacho, who was already bouncing for her. She kneeled by his side, pulling him into a hug. “Should probably get out of here, in case it— that thing had pals around” she ruffled the top of her dog’s head, an apologetic smile on her lips, “I’m sorry” he was getting extra play time next time. She glanced up at Emilio, slowly rising to her feet. “Wouldn’t hurt to look for a new place either”.

It burned out quickly, and that was a good thing. Emilio had no desire to set the dog park on fire, even if he wanted to make sure the hedgehound didn’t hurt anyone here. It might have been worth setting the park on fire to preserve life, might have been a fair enough trade so long as no one got hurt, but it didn’t matter. The fire burned out quickly, and everyone was all right except for the hedgehound. That was the way things were supposed to be.

He shrugged as Nicole questioned him, looking at the dogs so he didn’t have to look at her. You were supposed to keep the supernatural secret. It was part of the hunter code, part of their job. But Nicole already knew, didn’t she? She knew enough to set the thing on fire, knew enough not to panic at the mere sight of it. Why bother keeping a secret from someone who obviously knew it already? “Hedgehound,” he replied. “Undead thing.” He figured that was enough of an explanation. If he knew the name of it, she’d know he knew more than that. And that was fine. It was okay for her to know. 

The thing collapsed into dust, the way undead things had a tendency to do. Emilio watched her stomp out any sparks, snorted at her words. “Eh. Probably safe as far as this town goes.” Nowhere in Wicked’s Rest was really safe. The number of missing persons cases that made their way onto his desk was proof enough of that. “No problem,” he replied, shrugging. “Wasn’t gonna let anybody get hurt.” And that included the dogs. He saw how much she clearly cared about Nacho, knew how much he cared about Perro and figured it was the same. Kneeling with some difficulty, he clipped Perro’s leash to his harness. “Yeah,” he agreed, “don’t want to be around if the police show up, either. Sure one of those gringos called.” They couldn’t keep an eye on their own dogs, but they’d surely alert the authorities at the first sign of trouble. Emilio rolled his eyes at the thought of it. “Right. We can do an internet search. ‘Dog park - no undead things.’ We’ll find one.”

[ohwynne]

TIMING: 22 October , 2023 PARTIES: The Leviathan, Emilio @mortemoppetere, Lil @the-lil-exorcist, Regan @kadavernagh, Teddy @eldritchaccident & Wynne @ohwynne LOCATION: The Protherian commune base. SUMMARY: The gang goes to kill a demon. CONTENT WARNINGS: Child death, sibling death.

Wynne didn’t have a lot of experience with road trips they could compare to this one, but even so they had a feeling this was a bit of a strange one. The people they’d brought together made a strange bunch, and then there was the car itself — some kind of van that one might expect served ice cream. There were cones and ice cream scoops, sure, but the cold substance itself was lacking. In stead, there were just various sizes of jars, tubs and buckets of mayo. For a large chunk of the ride, they had sat on a large bucket of it.

They hadn’t questioned it, as there were more pressing things to question. Like what an exorcist did exactly did, why Regan hadn’t taken off her coat, how Teddy was still alive and if the tension in the front of the car would be resolved when they arrived. Most importantly: whether Wynne was doing something horrible by bringing these people along. Their fear wasn’t quite as overwhelming as it had once been – there seemed to be more room for determination and even rage, now – but it was still there.

They glanced through the back window, the roads behind them growing more and more familiar. Eventually the car slowed and they stretched their legs, standing in the mayo-mobile. Eyes flicked to the Leviathan behind the wheel. They must be there. “Okay. Alright.” Wynne let out a breath of air. In their hand was a strand of paper on which they’d written down the words they were supposed to chant, down the line. Everyone had gotten a similar strand of paper, as well as a rough sketch of the commune with a red dot where the altar stood. “I guess we’re here. And everyone knows what they’re supposed to do, right?” They fiddled with the back door. “I’ll lead us there.” Lead. Maybe that was the strangest thing of all, today. That Wynne was trying to lead.

It had been a long, bumpy road to Moosehead Lake, and Regan was filled with the sickening feeling that there was something about all of this she wasn’t understanding, the only one not on the same wavelength with the others. It was not a new feeling; it had clung to her all her life. But in the cramped, sour-smelling quarters of the mayo mobile, it was an inescapable one. Everyone chanted during the drive. They had become well-practiced but it remained eerie, and Regan had instead spent her time studying the dead bugs pressed against the window. A faun would not care about this chant. At least she was here to talk some sense into them when this failed. 

Regan squirmed under her coat and took inventory of both her supplies and the people she might be using them on for the tenth time. Typical first aid; bandages, sutures, hemostatic agents, dressings of every size and color. Her collection also expanded into shears, a sphygmomanometer, tourniquets, and even epinephrine injections. The others in the van were no less diverse. She trusted Wynne enough to do this for them. But the others? Emilio had helped her with the necklace, Lil had stopped by the morgue asking about her family, and Teddy’s bones were one of the more disturbing things she’d seen in her years as a doctor. But what of Levi? That had to have been who Wynne made a deal with… but he was not fae. So Regan regarded each of them with suspicion, but especially Levi.

When Wynne announced their arrival, Regan jolted to attention. Her hands grew sweaty against the handle of the kit. She noticed and berated herself for it. Nervous was human, and she was better. But maybe it wasn’t nerves… she hesitated for a moment before stumbling out of the van with the others. There was something in the air; it made her skin fizzle like it was under a mass of maggots. She refocused herself on the others, pushing that sensation away. “Yes, I know where I’m needed. Stay with the van with the supplies and be ready for wh– if this fails.” She wanted to say more to Wynne, but it was difficult in front of everyone else. Which was foolish. Why should it be difficult? Regan compromised by letting her eyes soften – a little – as she looked at Wynne. “Stay sharp, Wynne, for you and your brother.” Be careful. “Úsáideann tú do scian féin anois. It means ‘you wield your own knife, now’.” Toward the first few minutes of their journey together, Regan had already decided Lil was the most responsible out of the lot of them, so she turned to her. “No fatalities. Keep everyone alive and get them to me if they’re injured. Watch out for rats.”

Teddy was alive, but the anger Emilio felt towards Levi for endangering them to begin with hadn’t yet faded. It was a strange thing, given how his relationship with Teddy had developed; even now, despite their conversation on the beach, the hunter still found himself doubting that they were friends at all. And still, that anger placed a tension in his shoulders as he sat in front of the van beside Levi, giving curt directions to lead them to where they needed to be.

Had they been going for any other reason, he might have been less cooperative. Emilio wasn’t very good at playing nice when he was angry, and for whatever reason, he was furious with Levi now. Had anyone but Wynne asked him to do this, he might have offered some petty response, might have demanded something impossible and bowed out when it wasn’t provided. Even as it was, he’d spent a great majority of the journey complaining about being in the passenger’s seat instead of the driver’s, insisting that it would have made more sense for him to drive since he knew the way. But this was for Wynne, and for Wynne, he would swallow his pride. Petty complaints were still present, but so were detailed directions that got them to where they needed to be. 

And so were the nerves.

He knew he wasn’t the only one feeling them. Wynne didn’t seem as afraid as they had before, but he could feel the anger radiating from them, the grief. Regan seemed uncertain, Lil nervous. It was hard to get a read on Teddy, because it always was. Emilio kept glancing between the figures in the back seat, eyes darting occasionally to Levi in the front. Whatever they felt, whatever doubts they all had, it wasn’t important now. What was important was Wynne. Their retribution, their prevention. (Their vengeance, he thought, but he wasn’t sure that was what this was about for Wynne. Vengeance drove everything Emilio did, but Wynne was different. He was glad for that.)

He listened to Regan speak as they parked, grunting in quiet agreement with her words. You wield your own knife now. Wynne deserved that much. “Lead the way, kid,” he said to Wynne, offering them a small nod. “I’ll be right behind you.”

Lil didn’t really know many people in the van, and if she was honest she wasn’t quite sure why she had agreed to the plan anyway. Maybe it was because Wynne had asked, and Lil knew damn well that an exorcist was better than no exorcist on something like this. If half of it was true - which to the point it might not be Regan didn’t particularly think that it was a demon and Lil didn’t really have a reason not to trust that - then Lil might not even be enough. Still, there wasn’t time to get someone better here. The only demonologist Lil knew and trusted was missing, and - well she’d rather not call her almost teacher. Chances were Lil would have to make a deal for the help, and honestly she wasn’t really into deals. So she decided to go, sit in a mayonnaise truck with mostly strangers to help out a person that had been nice to her. 

She tried to warn them on everything, figure out details and rituals that might work, but well there wasn’t a whole lot of time for her to be creative and perfect with it. She’d have to hope the others were at least ready for a fall out if it didn’t work. Lil had to be ready to pull it if the ritual wouldn’t work, her hand aching as she remembered -.  Learning from the last time, and before even entering the van she had decided that a slightly open hand wound would make it easier, and having wrapped it up she had declined to comment on what it was instead talking about what it all would look like. She tried to be upbeat, but she was more nervous then she normally was. Still, other than the chanting she had remained mostly quiet letting some of them squabble instead - Emilio in particular seemed very upset that he wasn’t driving. 

As the van pulled into park and without much thought pulled her hair up and went to check that she had everything as the others talked, looking up only when her name was called climbing down from the counter she’d perched herself on. 

“Okay, Doc. I’ll try my best on that one. I’ll at least probably need to be patched up later.  The rats might be tricky though,” Lil said at an attempt of a joke, not saying the quiet part out loud. Sure whatever was there was likely to pick Wynne as their first target, but Lil wouldn’t necessarily be far behind. She was likely one of the squishier people here, although she hadn’t asked. Still, she decided then and there if she had to she’d just grab Wynne and pull them back to the van and come back another day if she had too. 

Tugging at the bandage around her left hand Lil nodded and said softly to Wynne, “ Yeah I’ll start the ritual when it gets to be time - hey If you get scared, just look at one of us okay? You don’t have to look at them for it to work. We got this. No worries.” 

She had a gentle smile on her face to Wynne that turned serious when she looked at the other three going onto the journey, “Like I said before, I’m probably going to be MIA for at least part of this chanting, so you know don’t let me get hit and stumble in the middle of all of this. Move me if you have to, but don’t let the - person who is probably a demon but may not be - manage to cover my mouth,” Lil wanted to say more, saying that they wouldn’t like the consequences of an exorcist failing, but she figured Wynne was already spooked enough. 

The back of the mayomobile wasn't really meant to have passengers while the old beast was in motion. The van chugged along the road bouncing everyone around like physical representations of the nerves that ate at most of their minds. It was kind of hard to actually tell what was actually supposed to go on back here. Scattered boxes with half filled tubs of various types of mayonnaise. Tubes of wafer and sugar cones. Almost reminiscent of an ice cream truck but one step removed. Abstracted. Just like the people inside. From a glance, they could all appear normal. But the details betrayed the strangeness just below. Eyes, much too knowing. Scars of past encounters, each with a completely different context. Each hiding a different story for the one who bore them. Teddy didn't know all of their stories, only that if Wynne trusted each of them enough to bring them along, Ted would trust them too. 

It was a good thing, Teddy thought, that the main task ahead of them was one of linguistics and not physical prowess. They were good at that, confident in it. The exact opposite of how they felt with the massive changes they were still getting used to. Everything from the clothes on their back to the air in their lungs felt heavier. A strange energy buzzed in their chest, they could only guess that it must have had something to do with the outburst of power during the ritual with Levi. Something that surprised both of them. A great feat, considering how hard it was to surprise a being as old as time itself. One that (to Teddy's shock and relief) was trying to show its care and attachment to the kid it took in all those years ago. 

Dark eyes glanced forward. Tinted by the rose colored glasses that Teddy didn't need anymore. (Another peculiarity. Completely human. Whatever that meant.) Emilio sat seething, fidgeting in the way he always did when there was something on his mind that he felt he couldn't say. What he did say was a bunch of nonsense about the demon's driving. Half Spanish rants angrily admonishing the way the driver decided to switch lanes, or how fast or slow it was going. 

Levi was barking right back, between corrections of pronunciation for the chant and addendums to the plan. The back and forth was comforting in a way. Finally something familiar to focus on. From their position in the back, they could comfortably smile while they watched the driver and passenger bicker about meaningless road drama. Watch the others in the back attend to their own anxieties each in their own way. 

Lil, as Teddy had recently learned her name was, was focused. Clearly having the most experience with this kind of thing outside of Levi. It painted her an anxious general. Nervously warning the recruits about the dangers they were to face. Clearly of the "information will keep you alive" variety. Plan for the worst, hope for the best. Teddy liked that. She seemed… roughly about the same age as them or Emilio. Maybe a few years younger, but not as young as Wynne. The fact that she carried herself with this quiet authority, even if it was a front, was impressive. Teddy only hoped they'd all live long enough for them to tell her so. 

Regan, next up in line of how little Teddy knew them, was the pensive type. A seemingly compulsive need to check and recheck her tools. Funny, they thought, or maybe ironic that the person who usually spent her days opening up the dead to find their secrets was likely going to be the one to patch them all up, should shit go sideways. The good doctor was understandably a bit shaken by the results of the x-rays. Something Teddy had to try very hard not to have a little laugh about. The writing on their ribcage (and pretty much everywhere else) was never going to be the thing to kill them. 

Then of course, Wynne. Carrying quite a bit of confidence amongst the worries. It suited them. Teddy wanted more than anything for this to go well. For it to be everything the kid needed, for them to be safe after this. Teddy said they would do anything to help, and they fucking meant it. As the van pulled up, and Wynne spoke, they were ready to follow. Whatever that meant. 

The ritual had been a gamble, but a necessary one. It would not just be the danger that came after this encounter, it was the danger that seemed to surround them in the place they’d chosen as home, and now, well… Leviathan couldn’t ask Teddy to leave. They had formed important bonds with people that were not the greater demon, and as much as it didn’t want to admit it, that was important. That was good. Teddy needed that, they needed people that weren’t quite so detached from the humanity they’d left behind for decades. But it needed to make sure that Teddy would be safe, that something like the mines wouldn’t ever happen again, and so it had. 

It spared a glance toward the rear of the peculiar vehicle at one of the stoplights they came to, ignoring the grumblings of the man sat beside it in favor of offering a small, encouraging smile in Teddy’s direction. Its gaze then quickly danced to Wynne, who it was helping out of some moral obligation to try and redeem itself, maybe, for wanting to sever its connection to Teddy. One last act of selflessness before it ran to let the flames die down. At least it could give Teddy something to be proud of, maybe. 

“Listen, you’ll get to drive back home, sourpuss,” Leviathan chided Emilio as they all climbed out of the van. “So stop behaving like a child about it, will you?” It knew that harassing it for only being shotgun was simply an outlet for a much more serious frustration, but it was one that was,  frankly, resolved. So he could shut up about it already. 

Rounding the side of the van to meet the rest that had piled out of the back, its gaze fell on Lil as she spoke. “Right, well… just make sure you’re targeting the right demon,” it said bluntly, unbothered by the fact that not everyone here knew, or even believed in that sort of thing. They’d see soon enough. Except maybe the one staying behind, but that was inconsequential at this point. “And remember, we’re trying to draw it out, not banish it. If you banish it, you’re going to make it horribly difficult for me to find again.” 

Looking down at the map Wynne had provided, Leviathan fell into step beside them. “How much resistance do you think we’re going to meet? Will they fight or scatter?” 

Regan’s words echoed through them as they stepped out of the van, nodding their head at her before letting their feet hit familiar soil. It was a good sentiment — the idea that they should be something sharp and weaponlike for Iwan, but also themself. To take the blade they’d feared all their life and do something with it in stead. But to think of their brother was hard and so Wynne didn’t linger on the thought. “We’ll be right back.” Eyes flicked to Lil, giving a grateful smile. “Thank you. And if you — or anyone, ever …” They trailed off. “You only have to be here because you want to be.”

It was strange, to stand on the same ground they had once been born on. To return to the place they had barely ever left up until nine or so months ago. Wynne must have left this way then, to the main road — but they weren’t able to remember it in detail. It had been a fearful blur, crashing through those woods knowing that every step they took was what was keeping them alive. That there was no stopping, even if their throat constricted.

They weren’t afraid now. Whenever they tried to find it within them, they found something null and void. At the end of the day, there was just the anger. For their own escaped fate, for the fate that was forced upon their brother and would continue to be given to people like them, time after time after time. 

Wynne looked around the people that moved with them now, and that was their only source of anxiety. It was strange, how these people were coming with them when others – their parents, for one – would never have had their back this way. It was also scary. Iwan had already died because of them — so they weren’t sure what was waiting for them all next.

But they kept walking. It was the same way it was when they’d ran: they had to keep going. The air smelled familiar. They trudged on, attempting to ignore the scents that came with summer ending. 

Eyes flicked up at the sound of the Leviathan’s voice. Wynne thought for a moment. “They’re not … ones to attack outsiders, generally. They usually welcome them, but after Emilio came by, they must be more wary.” Despite all the death that surrounded the Protherian community, they weren’t violent — issues were resolved through other means. And though Llewelyn had taught them how to punch, they’d never needed it until leaving the commune. “Maybe there will be some, but most of them will probably scatter. We— they hunt, so there are weapons that some know how to use. I’m not … sure I can give a conclusive answer.” They pushed their lips together. “I assume they’d want to talk first, but we’re not here to do that.” 

It was no surprise that all of the talk about demons and fighting continued outside of the mayo mobile, and Regan was no less lost than before. All of this fuss over a faun. At least they seemed to know to be careful with their words. Other than that, she didn’t think faun posed much of a threat… but perhaps her opinion of them was skewed by Conor, who… well, actually, he probably would sock someone in the face, but he managed to be delicate all the same.

As the group prepared to depart, Regan hovered by the van, both knowing she would best serve Wynne by being ready here, and… being grateful for it. Something about all of this was sending a surge of incipient dread through her, but she was trying her best to squash it. The gentle pulse of death by her feet was helpful in that regard. Regan gazed down lovingly at the decomposing lump of fur that was once a vole, and then back up to Wynne, the group. “I will be good here. I have business to attend to.” Her fingers itched to reach for the carcass. But she wanted her privacy. Death was for her, not them. Could she send them off? Were they ready? No, they would never be ready. “I’d say don’t do anything foolish, but…” It was, Regan suspected, far too late for that.

Levi was smug and annoying and Emilio was trying not to focus on it lest his temper get the best of him. They were here to go up against one demon, and Emilio would do them no favors by punching the one who was supposedly on their side for the whole ordeal, even if it might make him feel momentarily better. Wynne needed him present, both physically and mentally. He had to do the best he could to provide that for them.

So he focused on the other members of the party instead. He let his mind wander enough to wonder what Dr. Kavanagh thought they were doing there, since she didn’t seem to believe in anything supernatural in spite of her status as (if Emilio’s suspicions weren’t wrong) a banshee. He wondered what Jonas had told his twin about the detective who was looking into their family’s disappearance, wondered if he matched up to what Lil must have thought of him or if she knew too little to have any impression at all. He wondered what Teddy was thinking about, if they were doing any better than they had been the last time he’d seen them. 

But, mostly, he was thinking of Wynne. He wondered if their grief felt anything like his own, if their drive to get rid of the demon that had plagued them their whole life was nobler than his desire to put down every vampire who’d stepped foot in Etla the day his daughter had died. Did they want to burn the whole damn compound to the ground the way he would have in their shoes? Even with less of a connection to the place than they had, part of him still wanted to salt the damn earth it was built on. His fingers twitched, hands clenching into fists as he looked towards the road they would be heading down. He imagined it was the same one Wynne had left when they departed. He tried not to think about how afraid they must have been.

Regan was staying behind, and that was probably for the best. She didn’t strike Emilio as a fighter, and the morality she’d displayed in the past might become… problematic depending on what was necessary here. Already, he was concerned about what protests Lil might have. She was the only unknown factor to him, the only member of their group that he hadn’t spent extensive time with. Levi was an ass, but it would do what it had promised. Teddy’s heart was too goddamn big for their own good, and Emilio was far more worried about them trying to fall on a sword than he was about them protesting any unseemly necessities. Wynne would do what they had to do to avenge their brother and stop what happened to him from happening to anyone else. He wished he knew why Lil had agreed to this, wished he understood a little better what she was prepared to do and how far she was prepared to go. As it was, there was no time for discovery and no room for protest. What they had was what they had.

Which meant all information probably needed to be on the table.

Levi was asking if the compound’s residents would fight back, and Wynne was saying that they were typically peaceful towards outsiders, but… “Might’ve punched a couple of them,” Emilio mumbled, neither regretful nor ashamed. He’d punch them again in a heartbeat. But he recognized that that might make his presence… a little more unwelcome than most, to the Protherians. “Uh, that guy Padrig. And…” He glanced to Wynne, a little sheepish. “Wynne’s dad. They’d recognize me if they saw me, I think. Not sure if that changes anything.”

Lil was used to being an outsider, something that made her comfortable around so many faces she couldn’t quite place. After all, not a lot of people wanted an exorcist to stick around - it was as much of an omen as it was a necessity. So while she saw the stares, she elected to not care too terribly much about them. She was here to help kill a demon and make sure to bring Wynne back alive, and well the rest of it wasn’t of her concern. If they ended up hating her then, well she would be hated by another group of people. She was used to it.

“Bye Doc,” Lil said, waving with her good hand to the medical examiner she’d grown fond of, hoping that she would actually see her again. As she set out though, she didn’t look back slowly, turning her attention to what needed to be done rather than what ifs of things she couldn’t possibly consider. 

Her eyes turned to Levi, who seemed very happy to keep telling Lil that it was a demon. It should have infuriated her to work with it but she had quelled that idea. She was hardly a person that could demand purity in her partnerships and she wasn’t going to be a hypocrite. So instead she sighed and said, “Like I told you, I don’t know your name and could you stop saying you're a demon? - Anyway,  You’ll be fine, and I’m not an idiot. If anything I’m just - putting a shield between you two and us so it can’t escape your attack.” She didn’t point out that even if she wanted to she couldn’t kill the demon. If she did, she was pretty sure the tightrope between exorcist and demonologist would tip - and Lil frankly would rather not. She would rather the Leviathan just forget she actually existed than having to battle an ancient demon.

Catching Wynne’s eye as they considered the possibilities Lil shrugged and said, “That’s fine Wynne. No matter what they do, we can lead them to where they need to go. Bet you it’ll be more simple than we think.” 

At Emilio’s confession, Lil couldn’t help but snort, hiding her laugh behind her good hand as she tried to be serious. It wasn’t her thinking it was silly or stupid, rather she probably would have done the same thing. Still, instead of commenting on it she said, “ See like that. It might work out  if we can get them to realize Emilio is there they might come towards him. How many people can you punch, Bud? In any case there’s a slim chance the demon will recognize I’m an exorcist. ” She honestly didn’t know at this point, she knew Demons were drawn to Jane, but Lil had never experienced that fun quirk. Still, she figured they at least should know. 

“Besides, if the worst case scenario happens, I think between all of us, we can get someone to chase us, yeah?” Lil asked, stretching her arms as she walked. “Well, at least I know I can be annoying enough to get chased.” 

“Oh he can punch sooo many.” Teddy grinned as they trotted forward. Throwing one arm around the grumpy slayer in a way that might have earned them a punch back when the pair had first met. Now there was something between them, and Ted had no idea what, but it sure was something. “Just look at these arms, he’s a punching machine.” Their other arm slipped around Wynne’s shoulders. Giving them just a quick encouraging squeeze before sprinting a few paces ahead. If only so they could catch up with Levi, turn around and start to walk backwards while they talked to the mini crowd behind. 

“If all else fails we can call in the captain of the Mayo-Mobile to swoop in and save the day.” Teddy offered Regan a  very serious salute and then a warm smile. If it got that bad they probably weren’t going to make it out at all. But if there was one thing Teds was still good for, it was keeping things light. Even when they had a storm of self-doubt brewing up inside. Good morale could get you a lot damn farther than you’d ever believe. That and having the be-all end-all sea monster of sea monsters on your side. That helped too. 

Wynne sure picked their avengers well. 

“What do you think pops, am I annoying enough to get chased?” 

“I seem to recall you testing that theory on me when you were… ten?” Leviathan responded slowly, though a small smile did work its way onto the demon’s face. “And as I remember it, the answer was a resounding yes.” It chuckled. Its gaze then slid over to Wynne again, and it nodded. “Sure. I assume you want to let the ones that run escape? It would probably be best.  Once the ritual is underway and Wyvss’Kgorr reveals itself, you will all want to… back up.”

There was the matter of the sacrifice, but that could wait. The first cultist to give them trouble would do just fine, anyway. Though perhaps offering the child a choice would be better… hm. At any rate, it wasn’t time for that yet. 

“Well, if any of them want to go another round with you, I certainly won’t stop them,” it added, looking at Emilio with a smirk. 

They almost stopped in their tracks as Emilio said that, Wynne looking over at the slayer with wide eyes. That was a detail he’d omitted and, in all fairness, a detail they hadn’t asked after. They hadn’t really felt like asking questions after hearing about Iwan. “You … punched Padrig?” He was a respected community member, someone with power, someone Wynne no longer feared. Still, it was easier to worry about the consequences of that act of violence rather than whatever other consequences awaited them. And then their father, well — they’d rather not comment on that. 

Wynne didn’t want to hurt the people at the commune. While they had recently tapped into their anger for their former family and community, it hadn’t turned into something nefarious. They wanted to kill the demon, to maybe chew their parents out, but the quips about punching the people they’d grown up with made them feel somewhat on edge. They were tired of people getting hurt — were they going to contribute to it now, in more ways than one?

They nodded. “We let them escape if they want to. It’s the demon that needs killing. What they do after that …” Wynne trailed off. “Up to them.” But if Siors were to be caught in the fray, they wouldn’t cry.  “Just try to knock them out if they are trouble.”

The walk was shorter than anticipated and Wynne found themself holding their breath a little, peeling away from the small group as they moved further ahead, staring at the lights of what had once been home. What never could have continued to be home, because if they’d stayed, they’d have been bled out and burned. 

They led them past a barn, around a corner and there, revealed, was the start of stretch of estate. The barn held the animals, who must have been locked up by now due to the hour of night. On their right hand was another barn, which held supplies for farming and then, up ahead, was the beginnings of the small community. Residential buildings, varying in size and age. A few parked bicycles. The building where they had school, but where other group sessions were held. Wynne halted, for a moment. “Just up ahead.” 

As they continued walking, two figures popped out of the barn. Collen and Rhys, smelling of manure and milk. They had missed the smell, they realized angrily. The pair both responded with surprise, perhaps even shock, maybe betrayal. They looked at them with an angry determination.

“Wynne? What’s — who are these –?” Collen was first to speak, quickly interjected by Rhys who stormed up to Emilio and jabbed a finger into his chest. 

“That’s the one who —” Something washed over his face, remembering how he had led Emilio to their community. Rhys had paid for it. He jabbed harder, then grabbed Emilio by the collar. “The intruder, the one who got Padrig, you’d better go and tell ‘em, I’ll —” What would he do? Hold them off, when this trouble might as well have started with him? 

“He was pissing me off,” Emilio mumbled, half defensive and half apologetic. If he’d been speaking to anyone but Wynne, the latter emotion wouldn’t have been present at all, but… This was their community. What Padrig had done, he’d done to them. To their brother. It wasn’t up to him to decide what punishments the man was to face for that, wasn’t his duty to deliver a fist to the stranger’s face. But hearing him talk the way he had about Wynne, about Iwan, about all of it… Emilio had never been very good at pushing his anger down. When it bubbled to the surface, it did so with a vengeance he didn’t care to stop.

Teddy’s arm slung itself over his shoulder, pulling him from his thoughts. He shot a look in their direction, but he didn’t take a swing at them the way he might have a few months ago. If anything, the limb lazily draped around him was a comfort rather than an irritation, a tangible reminder that they hadn’t died in that damn ritual. The look he shot in Levi’s direction was a much darker one, of course. “Wouldn’t need you to stop them. I can handle myself.” Then, to Lil, he added, “Can punch as many as I need to punch. Todos son pendejos. I don’t mind.” Another glance to Wynne, and he was back to apologetic. “But only if we have to.” Even if he’d really, really like to either way.

He trailed along behind the group, doing his best to keep up. Adrenaline numbed some of the pain in his leg, but the limb still wasn’t exactly operational and the walk, while short, was longer than would have been ideal. He knew it was a necessary thing. The ‘getaway car’ they’d procured was good for fitting all of them inside, but it wasn��t exactly subtle. He was pretty sure the horn played some sort of a jingle when it was honked. There was no sneaking it past the gates. He could only assume it was Teddy who’d found it, as it seemed a very Teddy thing to do. The thought filled him with an unfamiliar fondness as he shoved his hands into his jacket pockets, absently fiddling with a knife inside.

The landscape was more familiar now. Emilio had entered the compound through the front rather than the side Wynne had led them through, and while that had made the first part of the trek unfamiliar, he had a good idea of where they were now. It was later in the day, but he knew there’d still be people milling about. He kept a vigilant eye out, tensing as two figures approached. One was familiar. Emilio clocked him right away, and the expression on Rhys’s face said that he, too, recognized Emilio with ease. 

To be expected, he guessed. His last visit to the compound hadn’t been conspicuous. 

Still, there was some surprise as Rhys marched forward, finger poking into Emilio’s chest. The slayer blinked, looking down as Rhys grabbed him by the collar. Was he really so offended that Emilio had punched a man who would have sacrificed Rhys in a heartbeat if he’d convinced himself it was what the demon might want? Did he believe so thoroughly in this ‘greater good’ that served only those of a higher station than himself? 

“You should let go,” he said lowly, in a dangerous tone. “And leave, probably. Not too late to get out, wey.” 

Lil noticed the mix of tensions, a few of them trying to keep it light and the rest being resolute to keep hard truths at the forefront. In either case, it was hardly her business to keep civility or keep secrets. So she just shook her head, a smile still playing on her face as she continued to what seemed to be the gates at least for awhile. 

The area felt weird, and Lil wasn’t certain how to describe it other than a pressure that sat near her heart. Maybe it’s because she knew vaguely what was happening here, or maybe it was a sense she didn’t want creeping in. It felt rather similar to that day Jane had - shaking her head she decided to let hauntings lie away from herself. Gripping her good hand closed she muscled through her eyes focused more on the trail itself and noting how to get back than anything else. She couldn’t stop the fear, but she didn’t have to give it a voice either.

She was hardly a diplomat, normally confusing people to get them to let her do what she needed them to do,  but Lil  figured she probably should at least get ready, her eyes flickering between the two almost automatically moving closer to Wynne and whoever the others were in a flash.  While she didn’t tense up, and probably appeared rather relaxed, her foot moved back to keep herself balanced incase she had to do something stupid. She hadn’t realized the strangers would go after Emilio instead. He must have made an impression, but she figured one of the others could help. 

 With a bark of a laugh, sounding less like genuine laughter and more as a distraction trying to pull eyes away from Emilio, she said,  “I would listen to him if I were you. I have a feeling you’re going to want to be able to run later when I think your version of an apocalypse happens. Anyway lovely to meet you! I’d back off now. - Wynne, where? We should move.”  Lil wanted to get to the area as quickly as possible, knowing that it might be impossible to set up well but wanting to try as the timer started clicking. 

They were addressing them, these two men with whom Wynne had shared bread and mead, who had made them laugh. Rhys didn’t seem as kind now as he accosted Emilio who seemed ready to add him to his Protherians-I-Punched list. Wynne focused on Collen in stead, approaching him. “They’re right, you should just go. We’re going where we need to regardless. So go, go and get Anna and Gwen and just go, to your house or down south or wherever.” 

They looked over their shoulder at Lil, nodding up ahead. Collen stared at them with something strange in his eyes and they didn’t know what to make of it. Whether it was hatred or anger or just confusion. Wynne opened their mouth to say something before he could, then heard a crack and saw Rhys stumbling away from Emilio and his fists. A sign to leave. 

And so the group hurried further, past the barns and some of the houses. A few tried to stop them, a few tried to threaten them, a few tried to grab Wynne but if it wasn’t them who kicked them away, it seemed there was someone else ready to stop their former community from bringing them home. At some point their small knife appeared in their hand, their determination and anger growing with every step. None of it scared them any more. 

When they reached the center of the commune, a small crowd had gathered. Wynne ignored them to the best of their ability, not wanting to put names to the voices and the faces even if their mind was already doing so. They looked at the altar, where some candles still burned and the smell of the night’s dinner hung in the air. “There,” they said to Leviathan, and perhaps all the others. “That’s where they worship It.” There’s where they would’ve killed me, where they killed Iwan, where we will kill It.

They turned to some of the onlookers, who looked like Wynne had so many times. Wide-eyed, fearful, as if they wanted to say something but weren’t sure how to do it. Some did speak, calling their name, but they knew they were stronger now than they had been. “I’m here to end it. We are. So you can go, or you can watch like you always have.” Padrig was inching closer, so was Beca, so was — no, they refused to look at their mother. “Without interfering. Like always.”

Rhys didn’t back up, in spite of Emilio’s warning. His grip on the detective’s collar only tightened, expression determined, and Emilio wondered if he would have grabbed Wynne like this had he caught them as they left the compound the night before their execution. Padrig had thought, with everything in him, that there was nothing wrong with what the community did. He’d seemed almost proud of his decision to sacrifice Wynne’s brother in their place, like he ought to be rewarded for his ability to think on his feet rather than condemned for his willingness to take a blade to a child’s throat. 

Was there any forgiving people like this, he wondered? Most of them had been raised here, had lived this way all their life. They weren’t malicious, really; they were compliant. But compliance in this compound was something akin to manslaughter. Standing by and doing nothing as people died was just as bad as killing them yourself. Emilio thought of Lucio, of the way he hadn’t wanted the massacre to happen but was responsible for it all the same. Emilio thought of himself, of his daughter’s blood under his fingernails and the bodies in the street. Was there any difference between holding the knife and handing it to someone? Was there any difference in watching the slaughter and turning away? The blood spilled all the same.

Rhys twisted his grip in Emilio’s shirt, yanking him forward a little, and Emilio saw red. He didn’t realize he’d taken a swing until his knuckles were aching and that grip in his shirt was gone. Rhys was stumbling backwards, holding his nose, and Emilio knew himself well enough to know it was broken. Breaking things, after all, was what he was good at.

He felt no remorse as he turned away and followed Wynne in the other direction. He felt no shame as he punched anyone who came close to them, kicked the knees out from under anyone who tried to grab them. Compliance was its own special kind of sin. It wasn’t the kind of thing that deserved to be forgiven. Not with Wynne’s brother rotting somewhere, not with the haunted look that would never again leave their eyes.

The altar looked unassuming. If one didn’t know better, they might think the blood that stained it was that of an animal. A lamb or a goat, something with meat that could be consumed and fur that could be used to warm you in the winter. Not a child, who’d been wide-eyed and afraid and begged for his parents to save him as they watched the knife be driven home. 

Emilio stood behind Wynne as they turned to the crowd, eyes burning with the heat of his glare. His eyes met Padrig’s, and he tilted his chin up slightly, expression just as unashamed as Padrig’s had been as he’d talked about murdering children at this altar. He glanced to Wynne’s mother, angry at the desperation in her features, at the way she would defend this, even now. She’d lost both her children to this altar, in one way or another. How could she possibly want to protect it now? He thought of Flora, of how he would have burned the entire fucking world to the ground to keep her safe, of how he’d do the same to avenge her now. Neither he nor Wynne’s parents had successfully protected their children, but at least Emilio would do something about it. At least he was spending the rest of his life trying to make up for his failure rather than fighting for it to be repeated. 

“If anyone tries to stop us,” he warned lowly, eyes darting over the crowd, “I’ll stop them. I can promise you this. Ask Padrig. He knows.”

Lil had nodded at Wynne, bolting with them as she heard a crack of a fist against a face, knowing enough that time wasn’t going to be on her side with all these eyes on her. She doubted that the people here knew what an exorcist was - she hardly thought even an arrogant demon would make it known to its flock that there were humans that could hurt it. Still, she wanted to blend in the misfit group as long as she could, if only to not slow them down. 

Kicking people back was easier for her now, her hand wrapped up, and while she absolutely wasn’t built like Jane she’d taken after her sister enough that the people who weren’t suspecting it fell back, a wheel imprint now on their shin. Still she felt herself clenching her fists together causing a burn that was keeping her here for the moment instead of her normal distance that always kicked in doing work. She felt alive, and presented something she wasn’t sure how to take. 

Rushing past the others Lil didn’t bother to consider the crowd for anything other than to make sure they couldn’t grab her, dodging under their hands and questions. Instead she considered the altar and the floor, quickly pulling out bags of salt  and chalk quickly from her bag  getting to work hoping that the people were distracted. She saw the glint of her father’s knife and pulled that as well, putting it into her bad hand ignoring the sting. “Someone - put out those candles,” Lil said, getting on her knees hurriedly and carefully starting to draw a circle as wide as she could without getting close to the group of onlookers. She couldn’t complete it yet, but damn did she not think she’d be able to do all of it with the demon in it. She didn’t think of the altar, the blood that was clearly shed here. Where Wynne would have died if they hadn’t run. She didn’t let the anger settle into her bones yet. She’d need it later. 

Lil had never been religious, never had a fervor of a God false or otherwise, and maybe it showed as she was hardly careful knocking into things as she moved stuff out of the way trying to get the biggest circle she could. After all, the closest God she knew was death, and it would come for all of them eventually, you hardly needed to pray for its eyes to settle on you. Whatever this was, it was just arrogance in the form of divinity, something grotesquely more human than ethereal.  “Fuck-  I’m ready." Christ this place is bumpy, ” Lil said, not bothering to stand up, leaving about the foot of the circle clear, meaning that anything could get in at any point of the circle.  

Without the demonic strength inside them Teddy felt like they were at quite a loss. Silently walking alongside everyone else, passively letting the sudden bouts of violence take their courses. They couldn't go toe to toe with the people here, they were still acclimating to their fully human body. The aches and pains were familiar. Everything else was dulled. Muted. Lifting themself out of bed was a chore now. Or at least a workout. How did humans live like this? 

Well, the other humans were doing just fine. Wynne and Lil had set to their tasks, figured out exactly what they were meant to do. Emilio, mostly human with a bit of spice added into the mix with his slayer abilities, was taking on the role of bodyguard. Dr. Kavanaugh sat vigil at the mayomobile. Ready to drive them all to safety or at least to dinner after this was all done.

The meadow vole was only the first in a series of treasures, each holding a special place in Regan’s expansive collection because she found them while assisting someone she cared for. She stuffed a fox mandible into her pocket and craned her neck back to check on the van. It was her sense of duty that kept her close to the mayo mobile instead of letting her legs whisk her into the woods, following the pull of… wait, were there endangered bog lemmings here? No, stay focused, Kavanagh. 

For a second, she thought she’d willed herself into detecting a lemming. But as death’s beckoning twisted from a tug into a force of nature swirling inside of her, she knew what was coming. 

Did Wynne?

And now there was the choice. As Regan’s eyes darkened, she looked frantically toward the van again. Her lungs swelled. Her throat burned. It was close. And rapidly growing too late to try to contain. Around her, a crowd only she could see gathered, one of them marked for death, and – she tried to buck it away, the scream burning in her esophagus. She needed to see, she realized; if Wynne and the others were going to die, she needed to see. She was responsible for the health of those who were here. This was not one to battle. Regan sprinted as far away from the van as she could, arching herself away from it in a feeble attempt to spare the windows, and the scream thundered out. 

The one with wheels in her shoes was crafting a ritual circle on the ground, and Leviathan wasted no time, making sure it was standing within the boundaries to remain trapped with the other demon once it was summoned.

It motioned to Teddy to come closer, placing a hand on their shoulder and giving them a brief smile. “I'll especially need your help, my boy. Make sure your voice can be heard above the rest, I know you’ve a knack for exceptional pronunciation.” And, in a moment of affection in spite of its natural avoidance of emotions, Leviathan braced that hand against its child’s neck and pressed a kiss to their forehead. “We’ve got this.” It didn’t know if it would have time to say goodbye, after. Truthfully, it didn’t know if this altercation would kill the both of them. There was no telling, no predicting. It had never fought another greater demon, after all.

Allowing Teddy the space to step back, Leviathan started the chant. It was easy to ignore the voices of the cultists around them, shouting at them to stop or asking what they were doing—just white noise. It was about to turn to Wynne to ask them for something when a horrible, ear-piercing scream sounded from the direction of the van they’d left behind. It flinched, gaze jumping from one person to the next. It knew what that was and what it foretold, but as with all things, there was room for misinterpretation. It just hoped that the good doctor’s scream had been for someone other than the people that had ridden here together in that accursed vehicle to end this cyclical violence on behalf of a demon that cared not for their wellbeing.

Every person here had a distinct role to play, Teddy wasn't a hundred percent on theirs until their father whispered just the right words. If there was one thing Teddy fuckin Jones could do well, it was speak. They leaned into the touch, soaking it up as much as they could before taking a step back. Finding their spot amongst the circle where they joined everyone else in the chant. They kept the pace. Even, steady. Every word pronounced just-so. 

Dark brown eyes trained themselves on the circle, on the energy that it exuded. They could almost see it. See the way it writhed and twisted as the ritual kicked up. Teddy imagined the strands locking together and forming a net, keeping a barrier between the chaos that was happening, and that which had only scarcely begun. It was hard to say why, but something about that felt right. Even if it wasn't explicitly part of the ritual. They just had to do whatever necessary to keep the chant going. Keep the  chanters safe. 

Then they heard it too, the shrill wail. Might very well have mistaken it for a particularly enthusiastic fox or fishercat if not for the look on Leviathan’s face. Banshees were rare, Teddy didn’t know all that much about them, but they knew that. Knew what the scream meant. Their mind flicked briefly to the discussion before. Where the old demon admitted that it didn’t know if it was going to make it out. A flash of fear lit up their eyes, then settled into resolve. More drive to do this thing right. 

They were quick to follow Lil’s request, glad to have a task as easy as blowing out candles.  They needed things to focus on, lest their mind slip and they answer some of those calls, look at some of these people too long. Wynne wanted to shrink inside themself and disappear under their gazes, which felt angry and fearful and disappointed. You’re a symbol of reassurance, Wynne, your role ensures a future for us all. Old lessons from Padrig echoed in their mind as they did the opposite. When the greater demon (the one on their team) started the chant, Wynne was glad to have another task to focus on. It remained hard to, with all those familiar voices calling out, with the knowledge that their mother was here, that their father might be too. But none of them moved closer. They all just watched. As they always had.

They barely got far with the chant before being interrupted. A scream carried from the direction they’d come from, loud in a way that had them searching their immediate surroundings first. Though they found no one who could have produced the sound, they found something more troubling — a look of concern on the Leviathan’s face. One of the last things they perhaps wanted to see, now. 

Wynne looked around, saw that Teddy was continuing the chant and they tried to pick up again, trying to just form those strange words with their mouth and hope that whatever worry seemed to spread around was not too large. Still, their eyes darted towards Emilio for some kind of reassurance.

The words he was chanting felt clunky and unfamiliar on his tongue. English was still difficult for Emilio, still something he struggled with more than he’d care to admit, and the words he was muttering now were something even more unfamiliar than that. He tried to keep his eyes from darting to each of the other members of their little party in turn, tried to keep himself from marveling at how naturally the syllables seemed to come to Teddy and Lil or how easily Wynne seemed to pick up on it. He tried not to think about how, if this failed, it would probably be his fault.

And then a scream pierced the air, and he was thinking about something else entirely.

His voice fell off, gaze shooting out towards the woods where they’d left Regan. She could have been in trouble, could have been letting out a scream to defend herself or fight something off… but Emilio knew the more likely scenario here. Banshees screamed when someone was going to die, and they had a group of people here stupid enough to think they could take out a fucking demon without consequence. Did one scream mean one death? Or were they all doomed to fall here? 

His eyes darted to Leviathan, who doubtlessly knew what the sound meant, but the demon didn’t look entirely concerned. Was it because it didn’t plan to stick around for the aftermath anyway? There was a flash of fear in Teddy’s expression as they looked to their father, and Emilio shifted. His eyes found Wynne’s, and he was a little surprised to see them looking to him. As if he was the one they ought to turn to for this sort of thing, as if he were the rock they felt safest to lean against. Something stirred in his gut, something old and almost forgotten but never gone completely. He swallowed the feeling, steeling himself.

If someone was going to die here, he thought, he’d do everything he could to make sure it wasn’t someone who didn’t deserve it. Wynne hadn’t escaped this altar just to suffer the same fate as their brother who’d bled out atop it. Teddy hadn’t survived the ritual with Leviathan just to perish to another demon. Lil hadn’t spent months with Jonas searching for her family just to die before she found them. If Regan’s scream meant what Emilio suspected it did, he’d make sure it was earned. Even if that meant falling on the blade himself.

Mind made up, he offered Wynne a small nod of reassurance and went back to his clumsy chanting. They hadn’t died on this altar on the day their community had chosen for them, and they wouldn’t die here today, either. Emilio would make sure of it.

Lil didn’t bother moving from the ground, seeing Wynne move to blow out the candles it would be easier for her to do what she needed from the ground. Unwrapping her hand she looked at the fresh cut and accepted it. Taking her father’s knife she ran it across cringing and trying to hide it from Wynne as she put the knife down on the edge of the circle, her blood now tied to the circle. 

She knew even before coming here it was going to be demanded of her. Exorcism rituals were based on will, purely putting your soul against another's, and a part of that was willing to show that you could die. Every ritual was Lil saying that she accepted the fact that she could die, and with Greater Demons that determination was greater. If she was going to keep the son of a bitch in her ritual needed to reflect her willingness to keep.  It’s why now she gripped her father’s knife, something more akin to rage than she ever felt holding onto her mother’s necklace. She wasn’t sure which one was focusing her, but she didn’t need to know.  “I’m ready, when you all are.”  Watching the Leviathan enter she nodded, starting the chant along with the others. 

Hearing a scream Lil cringed fighting the urge to put her hands over her ears. For a moment there was a panic in her heart, remembering the sea and the water surrounding her before she shook her head and gritted her teeth, hands turning into fists reflexively before the pain of it released it.  She didn’t know what it was, or why it seemed like an omen, but she wasn’t going to fear dying. Not again. Instead she pushed out a sigh as she continued the chant, readying for the moment that she’d have to change to trap the demon. Her right hand poised to fill in the circle. Fear be damned she wasn’t going to let the demon out when it finally came out to show itself. Coward. 

“Wynne,” Leviathan called, gaze focused on the altar as it spoke over its shoulder. The rest of them carried on with the chant, Teddy’s voice loud and clear and leading the chorus of alien words. “We will need a sacrifice. You may pick one of these villagers, or I will choose one at random. Select quickly, and bring them to me. The stench of death offered in its name will help lure Wyvss’Kgorr here.” It cast its gaze to Wynne now, who was undoubtedly trying to figure out what to do and who to choose. Eyebrows raised in a silent request to hurry, it resumed the chanting, glancing up at the sky to see it darkening as a sudden storm began to brew overhead. 

Good. It was working. Leviathan could recall what it felt like to be summoned in this manner, and right about now, Wyvss’Kgorr was probably feeling an irritation at the back of its throat, if it had one.

Inevitably, the Leviathan called their name and showed its hand. There was a prize to pay besides that fear they had given it, something that would weigh on their soul rather than make it lighter. Wynne looked at it, with unblinking and wide eyes and a surge of indignation. Emilio had been right. They should have known — demons were treacherous, and would always want more, but they had hoped, foolishly and stupidly and to no avail at all.

Lips parted to answer, but no words followed, not even the chant they were supposed to be doing. Something constricted in them, a strange kind of disbelief at the position they found themself in. The cries of their former community buzzing in their ears the way the locusts must have when the plagues had ravaged the world. It was the same calculation all of them had always made, wasn’t it? Kill one to save the many. But wasn’t it different? This time it would break the cycle. It had to.

One would die, whether they were to be the one to choose them or not. They could not abandon mission now, tell everyone to turn back — some of them wouldn’t. So Wynne looked, searching for one of the guiltiest faces. Siors, they didn’t see, so their eyes fell on Padrig, whose voice echoed in their mind still. Who had suggested they bring Iwan to the altar in stead. Who’d always told them there was no higher honor than dying for others. 

Let him do it, then. Let him fulfill the duty he had always spoken so highly of, when it was them that was bound to die.

And so Wynne pointed to him, with a mixture of shame and rage. “Padrig,” they spoke, and Emilio would know and with that, maybe all of them would. But they couldn’t move, couldn’t drag him up, they could only let their finger drop and look at the demon whose deal demanded a human sacrifice too even if it had once called it lacking in imagination. Maybe it had lied, then. Or maybe these things were simply inevitable, the way death always seemed to be.

Wynne cast their eyes around and swallowed, before trying to join in on the chant again. 

A sacrifice. There it was — the kicker. Emilio had known, hadn’t he? Things couldn’t be as simple as chanting complicated words in a circle. Wanting something wasn’t enough — you had to spill blood for it to mean something. That was how it always was, how things were meant to go. Wynne had trusted Levi, and Levi had hidden a crucial piece of the puzzle from them. Would they have still come, had they known?

Emilio realized with a start that he would have. He didn’t know when it had become the truth, didn’t know when he’d become the kind of person who would sacrifice a human in order to rid the world of a demon. He didn’t think he’d always been this way. Years ago, maybe even months ago, he would have balked at the notion. He would have insisted on finding some other way. But now? 

Wynne wanted their freedom, and they’d earned that. The men and women who surrounded them, the villagers who had done nothing as children were slaughtered, who had put Wynne’s brother on an altar after Wynne themself had the gall to escape a fate that never should have been theirs to carry… What that they earned? Emilio thought he had a pretty good idea.

Wynne’s index finger found Padrig, and their voice sealed his fate. They made no move to step forward, so Emilio did it for them. He set his jaw, he squared his shoulders. He marched into the crowd and grabbed Padrig by the shirt, and no one moved to stop him. Was it fear or relief that froze them where they stood? Did they want it to be over just as much as Wynne did? They’d watched children die here. Watching a grown man meet a fate he deserved should have been so easy in comparison.

Padrig was protesting, was squirming, was wailing, but Emilio could scarcely hear him over the rush of blood in his ears. Iwan must have screamed and thrashed, too. Would Wynne have been just as terrified had it been them on the altar? 

(He faltered for a moment, trying not to think of the terrified child whose blood he could never wash out from beneath his nails. Flora was everywhere to him, but she couldn’t be here. He couldn’t do what he needed to do if she was here.)

He brought Padrig into the circle, tossing him in front of Levi and pretending that his hands weren’t shaking as he shoved them into the pockets of his jeans. “Do what you need to do,” he said lowly, “and end it.”

Padrig squealed and wriggled like a piglet picked up before it knew to trust grabbing hands. Wynne watched, not afraid but only angry, and repeated the sentiment Padrig and all the others had told them, whenever they’d been upset, “You have to be calm, Padrig, so they know it will be alright. They’re all looking to you now, don’t you want to reassure them that it will be alright?” 

It was proud of Wynne in that moment, turning the words they’d undoubtedly heard all their life upon what it could only assume was one of the men that always spoke them. Void below, humans were stupid. Believing a thing like a greater demon was worth their worship and devotion… it was an old story, but one that was never any less grating. And why? Why did it care? 

Because it liked them. Wynne, Teddy, Emilio. Humans, though some of them had a little extra something. Hell, even the girl that’d drawn the ritual circle, though it didn’t know her well. Even the banshee they’d left behind. It wasn’t just humans, Leviathan realized. It was every creature of this dimension. It liked all of them. So much so that it had become like them in many ways, further distancing itself from the kind of demon that would do this—what Wyvss’Kgorr was doing. What many of them did. 

Its gaze moved from Wynne to Emilio, who had dropped the sniveling man in front of it and told it to get on with it. Padrig, as he was known, looked terrified. His eyes kept jumping between Wynne and the demon that stood in front of him, though he knew not whom he faced. “Please,” he begged, moving like he was going to try and run. Leviathan reached out and grabbed him by the throat, looking again at Emilio. “Thank you,” it breathed as it nodded at him, a silent gesture to remove himself from the circle, quickly. It then turned to Lil, and nodded again. “Seal it.”

Once there would be no escape for Wyvss’Kgorr (or itself), Leviathan looked Padrig in the eyes, its own shifting color to their more natural seafoam green. “I want you to know that you’ve done a great disservice to these people. Wyvss’Kgorr, your gythraul, is not a thing to be worshiped. It is an alien, like me, and you mean nothing to it. None of you ever did. This was a game. Entertainment.” It snapped the man’s neck before scanning the crowd, recognizing the anger and horror in their eyes. The body was dragged forward and dumped at the base of the altar, and Leviathan’s form continued to shift. Claws ripped through fingertips, which the demon used to slice Padrig open from collarbone to groin, spilling his blood upon the altar. It resumed the chant that everyone else had been so diligently performing, this time calling out to Wyvss’Kgorr directly. Challenging it. The demon stepped away again, doubling over on itself as its back split in half to make room for the thing inside to get out. It slithered and hoisted itself free from the host, too massive a beast for so small a package, slicked with viscera. A sea monster, augmented to move with ease upon land. Instead of fins or flippers, it had massive clawed feet. A mouth designed for ripping and tearing, long maw serrated with rows of razor sharp teeth, predatory eyes forward-facing and filled with bloodlust. It howled in the foreign language now, gaze turned up at the stormy sky. 

Wyvss’Kgorr felt it. Heard it. And as it conjured itself a portal to see just what the fuck was going on with the commune of humans it had bent to its will, it was met with a surprise. The expected scene was not so typical, and instead of being met with the sight of its loyal followers, the greater demon was met with enormous jaws that reached into its dimension and bit down on its head. 

It screamed, like metal grating on metal, so intensely loud that it shook the earth. Lkrak’Oaazhir wrenched back, dragging the equally huge monstrosity into their dimension and hooking it with its claws. So it began.

Within moments the fight was raging. Each demon banged against the unseen barrier like it was a physical wall rather than a circle of chalk and salt. Teddy's heart raced with every slam, every bite or claw. It was imperative that they kept the chant going, but it was hard not to gasp or scream out as the giant beasts gnawed and gnashed teeth on scales and chitinous plaques. 

All at once the world was going far too fast and in slow motion. The strange demon reared its massive head and went in for a gargantuan bite right on Leviathan's neck. "NO!" Teddy reacted instinctively, raising their arm as an unfamiliar surge of energy welled up and pushed through them like lightning. A shimmering field of teal blue caught the demon's teeth before they could rend into their father's flesh. A shuddered breath rippled through Ted's chest as they stared in disbelief. What the hell was that? Was that… did they do that?! The teal flash certainly matched the glow their monstrous form used to carry, but… it shouldn't have been possible. 

They were supposed to be just human now…right?

She didn’t say anything seeing the man dragged over, and part of her might have been weary of it; she didn’t get the sense that the man had been a bad one. The exorcist, who often straddled the line of life and death, wasn’t one to stop its procession for most part. She had to believe there was a reason for it. 

Lil braced herself as she saw Levi move to the circle and told her to seal it. So she did the chalk in her hand matching the two ends together, the exorcist did the only demonology she’d ever known. Lowly, to not confuse the others, Lil started on the chant her sister had taught her - sealing the circle into a barrier for the two giant demons who were now fighting. Her blood sealing the circle glowing a light red as she started yet another deadly situation. Another fight. One that this was her only part in.

The ritual  was hard. Lil wasn’t used to hearing all the noises happening, and after a moment she closed her eyes knowing that she couldn’t stutter for a moment or relax her grip on her father’s knife. She could handle most things, but seeing demons fight? She didn’t think she needed that vision in her brain for the rest of her life slowly letting the fear settle there. She’d much rather not know. So if she had to hear it she wouldn’t see it. Still, every slam to her walls she felt, although not in a way she could describe to others. She imagined her soul was being bruised, but it was staying together as long as she was. She would stay together ignoring everything but this barrier until it was over. Whatever over might look like.   

They watched in anger as Padrig was held in place by his throat. Fear remained absent in a way that would make them hollow if there weren’t plenty of other emotions to take its place. And now that there was no space within them to fear their seniors any more, what else was there but anger? What else was there but distaste for the plea that slipped past Padrig’s lips? Wynne poured that anger into the words they spoke, foreign on their tongue but an anchor of sorts. 

It was strange, to not be afraid. It seemed only now that they weren’t, they were realizing how much fear had constricted their body before. Its absence was a presence, Wynne aware they didn’t fear the knowledge that their parents saw them, that all of the people watching them must think something of them. It stripped them from the inhibitions that had ruled their life, the very structure they’d grown up in and now there was nothing more they wanted to do besides destroy that structure. Tear it. 

And though it was a gruesome sight, the neck of their former mentor being snapped, and though something in their gut pulled – not out of fear, but something else, something like guilt and two decades of conditioning coming undone – they remained focused. There was no way but through. (That was something Padrig had said too, once, and now he was dead.) They continued to chant as the Leviathan showed its through form and Padrig was bled out like a lamb. Tongue stumbled over the words, but they were like a verbal circle that kept chasing its own tail, repeated and repeated again. 

There It was, the demon who would have taken their corpse as a gift and devoured it. A cacophony of cracking bones and demonic screaming filled the air and Wynne was staring, unable to look away and forgetting themself, the words halting. There It was. The root of the problem. The base on which the structure of their life had been built, the foundation of the place that surrounded them. There It was, challenged. Caught between invisible walls, fighting an entity as strong – or hopefully stronger – than It. 

There It was, the reason their brother was dead. Wynne remembered their newfound purpose, and continued their chant, voice growing louder and more forceful with every syllable.

The snap of Padrig’s neck breaking seemed to reverberate, crawling into Emilio’s bones, too. He should have felt something. Guilt, maybe. Regret. He’d handed a man over to a demon knowing that it would kill him, had stepped out of the circle to let it happen without looking back at all. He’d done something slayers weren’t meant to do, and he should have felt something for it, even briefly. But the only thing he could manage was a numb satisfaction as he remembered how proud Padrig had been of the children he’d killed, how righteous he’d acted. There were people who didn’t deserve saving, and there were people who did. Padrig might have been the former, but Wynne would always be the latter. And this? This ritual, these demons going to war with one another in a circle held together by an exorcist and a prayer he didn’t understand? This was how they could be saved.

There wasn’t much for Emilio to do outside the circle. His chanting was unsteady and uncertain, the words not fitting quite right with his accent, but he spoke them anyway. It was difficult to watch the violence unfolding within the circle and not take place in it. He was so rarely a spectator to violence; all his life, he’d been an active part of it. The sidelines were an uncomfortable place to be. He situated himself between Teddy and Wynne, ensured he could watch them both out of the corner of his eye while keeping his main focus on the action. 

He sucked a breath when it looked like Wynne’s demon (whose name he couldn’t begin to fit into his mind) was going for Leviathan’s throat, but… something stopped it. Teddy yelled, and something stopped it. A familiar blue that left the slayer’s brow furrowed. He glanced to Teddy from the corner of his eye, but they seemed just as confused. A little more, maybe. Emilio kept his eyes on them a moment longer before turning back to the fight, ignoring the strange feeling in his stomach. No time for that now; no time for anything but the battle raging on.

Lkrak’Oaazhir had braced itself for the bite, but none came. Its eyes swiveled in its head, body weight pushing back against Wyvss’Kgorr to pin it against the barrier, a vicious hiss snaking past bared fangs as a violent, crackling energy exploded with the demon’s contact with the barrier. That monstrous gaze met Teddy’s for the briefest of moments, then slowly blinked. Excellent work, it complimented them before snapping its head to the side and sinking its fangs into Wyvss’Kgorr’s neck, mirroring what the demon had attempted to do to it only moments before. 

Clawed hands gripped the demon by the shoulders, massive weight pushing it down along the barrier until its back met the earth. Jaws bit down harder, black ichor filling Lkrak’Oaazhir’s mouth and dribbling out the sides. A hind leg of the reptilian beast found purchase on Wyvss’Kgorr’s underside, shredding it with quick but deliberate motions. They were otherworldly creatures, yes. Aliens to this world, powerful beyond measure, and infinite. But they still bled, and they could still die. 

Wyvss’Kgorr howled in agony before trying to do the same with its own hands and feet, kicking and trashing and digging into Lkrak’Oaazhir’s thick hide where it could, drawing similarly dark blood. But the sea demon did not relinquish its grip on the creature’s throat, biting harder still and feeling the other demon wheeze in response. And it knew, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that the tide had only turned this quickly because of the chanting the others were doing that was weakening it. Without that… well, the demon didn’t want to think about it.

Back to the brink with you, it pressed into Wyvss’Kgorr’s mind as its fangs sank as deep as they could go. With that, Lkrak’Oaazhir wrenched its head first one way, then the next, holding the other demon’s body down while pulling away from it with its head, until a massive chunk of flesh ripped free. The meat was cast aside and the sea demon went in for a second bite, jaws finding bone this time and snapping through them with an equally violent shake of its head. 

Wyvss’Kgorr went silent and its body went limp as Lkrak’Oaazhir dropped it back to the earth, turning then to the audience of humans that stared at it. It bared blackened teeth in a snarl before settling its body in the grass, waiting patiently for the barrier to be lifted.

Teddy Jones had seen death enough to know when it took the greater demon. Even before the final blow had been made, there was a reaction. An acceptance, in a way. The demon bent to a force far greater than its own, and it ended the only way it was ever going to end. With Leviathan on top, successful, bloodied, but alive. A half-astonished shock still rooted the chanters in place. Still had them fixated on the words that were no longer necessary. The crowd around them erupted in various forms of panic. Some shouts of despair, some relief, some fury, filled the air. But none made a move to advance on the group. 

Finally, Ted was able to breathe, to catch themself before they fell. There was an energy unlike anything they’d ever felt before coursing through them. Unlocked by the first ritual, fueled by the next. The very same that sent that barrier out just in time to protect their father. To give the advantage where it was needed. Was it luck or something bigger? Something new? Teddy didn’t have time to figure that out right then. They needed to get out of there. They needed to tear down the circle so Levi could get out, and pile everyone back in the mayo mobile and get the fuck to safety. Who knew when one of the court of demonic playthings was liable to attempt something monumentally stupid.  

They rushed silently to Lil’s side, champion demon wrangler and circle drawer of the group. “Hey- hey you’re good. We're good.” Dark eyes scanned the rest of the group with just a huge surge of relief and joy just behind the stress. “We’re done here.” They announced, almost surprised at it themself. A smile twitched at the corners of their lips. Teddy rushed back to where they were before. To Emilio and Wynne, where their grin only grew. Delight blossomed, they threw their arms around their newly liberated friend, lifting them and spinning in a moment of impulsive glee. 

“You’re free, kid. What do you wanna do now?”  

Lil didn’t realize when the fighting was done, the sting of her hand and concentration pointed as she kept the barrier up her soul feeling like it was bouncing around in a small box. It felt like she’d been doing it for hours, her arms shaking ever so slightly from the strain that no one could see. It was hard, and while rituals usually made her feel powerful this one just seemed to drain it. Still she kept it, until she heard one of the others in the group say that it was done. 

Opening her eyes, she confirmed it as Teddy came over saying she was done, dropping the knife to the ground and feeling the lines dissipate as she saw what she had hoped was the Leviathan standing there. The ritual dissipated almost immediately and so did all of the energy Lil had.  Glancing over she nodded to Teddy a light thanks, one  she didn’t speak instead moving to her bag to get more bandages and to put the knife away giving her a moment to breathe. She’d have to hope the Doc could wrap her up better as she staggered up from her position, her body heavy and tired. Free hand now wrapping up the cut again and kicking the chalk. 

“You should be free to move. I’m not going to try and find you again so don’t worry about me, kay? ” Lil muttered at Levi before turning to smile at Wynne and give a rather half assed thumbs up with her right hand. “Yeah, let's go rob a bank - kidding. Well, maybe in a few weeks. We should head out before they get any ideas,” Lil said with a laugh as she moved slowly forward, careful not to fall body still weak. 

It was a gruesome sight, but something about it was righteous, was poetically just. As the Leviathan bit down onto its throat, Wynne thought of how the knife had met Jac’s throat and bled him dry. They imagined, despite their attempt not to, their brother being cut open in a similar spot. And though this blood looked completely dissimilar from the blood that had stained the altar before, it was still blood being spilled. 

But this time, it was deserved. This time the sacrifice was worth something. This time it would end, not just for a few years but for all the time to come.

So why did they not feel glorious when it ended? When that goat-like, massive demon became undone and fell limp? They looked at their former people, at the wide and horrified eyes of those they would have died for, in a former life. Wynne stared at them and wondered if they’d hate them now or thank them. Whether they should even care. They found themself trying to find Evan, the one whose head would be next on the chopping block and when their eyes laid on him they felt a surge of righteousness once more. He’d be able to live, the way they were able to as well. They way their brother never could. Would he ever understand, what was evaded for him tonight? He was so young, so frail, so confused — and they knew they’d once looked like that too. 

Lost in their thoughts, overwhelmed by distant numbness and exhaustion, they were surprised as they were lifted off the ground, spun around by Teddy who radiated a happiness they couldn’t feel yet. Wynne looked at them, blinked at Lil with her ridiculous yet amusing suggestion and was surprised to note that their face was wet with tears. Whether they were from grief or relief, they didn’t know. It didn’t matter. They let them flow.

“I just want to go home,” they hiccuped. Home, which wasn’t here any more and hadn’t been in quite some time. Home, away from these staring eyes and people who they had known all their life but didn’t know at all. They glanced at the Leviathan with wide, wet eyes. “Thank you.” Then, a decisive nod. “Let’s go.”

The thing about death, the thing that made it seem so… strange, so jarring, was that it was over in an instant. Dying could take a while, sure — it stretched on for years, sometimes, drained people slow — but death itself was there and gone in a blink. It was one heartbeat that didn’t give way to another, one breath that emptied out lungs that would never be refilled. The dying could drag, the grief might never end. But death? Death was a split second thing, a simple one. Leviathan’s jaws closed around the other demon’s throat, and that was it. That was all there was to it. Death came and went in the time it took Emilio to force one syllable of the unfamiliar words through his teeth.

It still didn’t feel over. His eyes darted to Teddy, who was seeing to the exorcist, to Levi, still monstrous in the circle, to Wynne, their eyes scanning the crowd. The last one earned his full attention. He watched the way they moved, the way the tension in their shoulders didn’t quite release. Death, he knew, was only ever the end for the thing doing the dying. 

He reached up, put a careful arm around Wynne as the grief overtook them. The gesture was an unfamiliar one, not something that had been in his arsenal for long. It was borrowed from Zane on the couch in his living room, from Arden in her car after she’d been afraid he was dead, from Rhett in the forest floor a few miles away from where their family’s corpses lay in new graves. This wasn’t a comfort Emilio had learned when he was Wynne’s age, but it was one he was unpacking now. Uncertain and a little stiff, but genuine all the same.

“Yeah,” he agreed. His eyes darted up to Leviathan’s, gratitude not spoken but communicated with a look all the same. The same look was passed to Lil, who looked half conscious where she stood. Something else was in his eyes as they moved to Teddy, unreadable and unknown even to him. Then, back to Wynne, and his expression softened. “Yeah,” he said again. “Let’s get you home. Come on, kid.”

Rising to its feet again now that the barrier was down, Leviathan let out an exhausted hiss of breath. The confusion in the eyes of those that stared up at it, the ones it had not come here with, who owed it nothing but fear and perhaps anger, felt oppressive. It could offer them some words of wisdom, but truthfully it didn’t much care what they thought, and had no desire to step up onto any kind of soapbox. They were fools, and they would likely remain so to the ends of whatever they decided to make of their lives now. The only thing it would do was turn on the commune and release a threatening growl, as if warding them away from its companions. It watched them scatter for a few moments before returning its attention to the small group, taking a few lumbering steps towards them.

I must leave you here, it spoke privately to them, looking to Wynne. Enjoy your freedom, young one. For Lil, the demon gave a solemn, respectful nod. Then, its head turned to Teddy. And you… It lowered itself and pressed the tip of its bloodied muzzle against the human’s chest, closing those many eyes. I will find you again, as soon as I am able. The request it had made of Emilio some time ago was on the forefront of its mind as it gave the hunter one final glance, and a tear formed in the air beside it, creating a vacuum for a brief second before balancing out. Beyond the rip, an endless ocean. The Leviathan rose back to its full height and sucked in a deep breath, then stuck its head through the rip. The rest of it followed quickly, floating up from the earth as it passed between dimensions, seawater leaking from the fracture in reality as it stitched itself shut again once the demon was through. 

There was a bright flash of light, and then it was gone, leaving only a puddle behind.

Teddy knew this part was coming. The brightness of the victory had overshadowed it right up until the nose of the great beast pressed into their chest. They felt themself sinking. All of that joy and relief just melting away in a moment of harrowed grief. The concrete weights around their ankles, rooting them in position as they shared their last moments for a long time with their father. 

Perhaps last moments ever, a not-so-small part of their brain nagged. The part that still liked to taunt Teddy with all of their shortcomings, and how everyone around would eventually leave because of them. This wasn’t that. Leviathan promised to find them again. They knew it was temporary, it had to be but– But Teddy wasn’t ever great at goodbyes. 

Their head swiveled around. A ringing in their ears drowning them to all noise except the thrum of their heart in their chest. A distraction, they needed a distraction. And they probably weren’t the only one, either. Dark eyes scanned the horizon, and settled on one of the few things not scattering with the rest of the crowd. A small shaggy lamb, tied to a post nearby. As if it was next on the chopping block. Wordlessly, the ex-demon strode over. Started to untie the thing and picked it up in their arms. It wriggled for a moment but settled when it realized the cradling limbs around it meant no harm. 

“This is ours. We’re taking it. Right Wynne?”  Ted’s ears still droned with the sound of distant waves, but holding the shaking creature was grounding. Offering the choice to Wynne was empowering. Or at least they hoped it was. “We can tell Regan this is Levi now.” 

Lil waited, letting the demon leave, hearing her sister’s voice screaming at her to not. Still, she had chosen a long time ago that demons and the like weren’t on her. So instead she turned to Wynne who was crying. Asking to go home. It struck her for a moment, the other’s age coming into sharp focus. It was something that reminded her of her brother, who was now waiting for her to get back. He would have cried too, Lil thought, sharing with Wynne in the relief and sadness of all this. Lil couldn’t though, she didn’t have that capacity so she just slowly waked and said with a short nod, “Yeah, let's get you home. Wynne. The doc’s expecting us and -.”

She paused for a moment realizing that she was going to probably be in trouble without the demon they had brought - even though they seemed to be fine just gone. She’d just have to explain - until Ted seemed to think of it too, bringing a lamb that seemed as shaken as the youth in front of them.  With that she couldn’t help the tired laugh come out at the solution. She didn’t say anything though, leaving the choice between the two. 

Shaking her head the tired exorcist  said softly, “Uh anyone got an arm I can lean on? I can walk but I’m probably going to take a while. Really not cut out for demonology it seems. Feel like I went through a dryer and a hobble is my fastest speed now.” 

Maybe all of the people of the commune were scared, and that explained why they didn’t reach for Wynne now. Besides, their mother had never reached for them even when they’d been her dutiful child, so why would she know? Still, she looked with wide eyes, trying to grasp the gaze of one of the people she’d called family and saw only cowardice. But that gap left by their unwillingness to move forward was filled. By Teddy lifting them up, Emilio embracing them, even Lil’s determined nod. 

This wasn’t a place for them any more. But there was another one. They swallowed, the flow of tears halting as they watched the ocean appear in a rip through time and space, the scent of the sea filling the air. They blinked their own salty water away, rubbing at an eye before leaning into Emilio some more and watching the Leviathan take leave. 

Eyes looked for Teddy, an apology at the ready but instead there they were, rescuing a lamb. A poorly looking one, one that would never qualify for a large ritual — but a small one, sure. They looked at the small thing, wanted to look for Ewan again and tell him he was free now, wanted to tell them all that they could be free now. But they just nodded. “We’re taking it.” Another soul saved. They even let out a wet laugh. “Yes. The resemblance is uncanny.” 

Wynne looked at Lil with a worried look in their eyes, wondering if maybe they’d asked too much from the exorcist. “Yes, come, you can lean on me.” They stuck an arm under the other’s shoulder, taking some of her weight as they considered asking Emilio to just carry Lil. Instead, they started moving, away from those people and the former home, wondering if they’d return again, some day. For now, though, they just wanted home, for the woman she was helping to be aided and to sit in that sour-smelling car.

—

He ached for Teddy, knowing what was coming. This had always been the plan. The ending was written before they started the story at all, carved into the cement and hardened there. Levi was leaving, because Levi was always going to leave. But Teddy wasn’t alone. Emilio met the massive demon’s eye, remembering the promise it had asked of him in their last conversation. The conversation itself hadn’t gone so well — conversations with Emilio rarely did — but the promise remained. He nodded once, determination coloring his features. He’d keep an eye on Teddy, because somebody had to. Because they might deserve better, but they wanted him. 

He glanced up as the idiot in question moved away from the group, distracted by… a lamb? Emilio rolled his eyes. “I’m not carrying it for you,” he said dryly, but Wynne seemed lighter now, so he didn’t say anything more. Whatever made the two of them happy. Whatever they needed. 

Lil came over, leaning against Wynne who Emilio still had an arm around. The detective grabbed Teddy as they walked, keeping a hand on the small of their back and telling himself it was to keep them from acquiring any more lambs on the journey back to the van. Truthfully, he knew it was something more than that. The remaining group, all gathered like this and leaning on one another, made him feel a little stronger, a little more like they’d done something decent. It felt like a victory, when they were like this. Teddy with their lamb, Wynne free of that ax that had been hanging over their head since birth, Lil successful in her brief stint as a demonologist… It felt like they’d won, even with the blood on the altar and the body on the ground. 

Just for a little while, just for the length of time it took them to walk back to the van, Emilio decided to let himself feel it, too. Let it be a victory. Just once. Just for now.

[faoighiche]

PARTNERS : @wonder-in-wings | @mortemoppetere | @eldritchaccident TIMING : Early December. LOCATION : A shed in the Pines. SUMMARY : Burrow and Parker go to a secret shed to discuss their plans. Emilio and Teddy interrupt. Payback is a bitch. WARNINGS : Drug manipulation (mention), domestic abuse (mention), eye trauma (mention), alcoholism, unsanitary

The steam rising from the cup felt pleasant on Burrow’s nose. Well, the thing that was her “nose,” molded by the glamour encasing her. She took a sip of her tea: black with a squirt of lemon and a spoonful of honey. It was not as good as the honey from Nectarfell; an unfortunate nostalgia she could not remove. She could barely remember the taste now, just left with the knowledge that the honey from the human store was lacking somehow. It lingered on her tongue longer than necessary before she swallowed. It filled her with warmth, which was much needed as the air grew colder. She hated the winter months. It killed her parasites and made her tendrils slow to help. But she would continue to push through, for their sake. It was the reason why she found herself there, in the woods with a killer of her kind. Necessary uneases to be the proper protector she was made to be. 

Burrow was familiar with winter’s slow embrace of death, but the ways of ironmongers were not as clear. Of course, she had heard the nightmares they bring, as all fae children did. But it was always through the eyes of others, not her own. She watched the man curiously. The binds on him were strong and firm; she could feel how they writhed around his neck. But still, she wondered, what would he do without them? Where would he strike first? Would it be quick? Would he watch her bleed out? What would be done of her body? She would see it, eventually, done to another. Her morbid curiosity sated through another necessary unease. She would have it readily, the same as the mediocre honey. She took another sip. 

“There it is.” Burrow pointed to the dilapidated shed. It was easily missed, appearing as another collection of shrubs and moss amongst the wild floor. It had been claimed by nature, but since she was a being of pure nature, she knew it would not mind her use. Not that she would let it stop her. It would serve her just as any. “We can discuss more... sensitive matters in there.” A vagueness she knew he would understand. 

—

The writhing mass of insects taking a temporary human shape wasn’t the only being that walked along in the forest that day that would rather have not been out there. Parker also disliked cold weather, even as it was being staved off periodically by each sip of the hot drink in his hands - white Earl Grey with… he wasn’t sure. Bergamot oil. Something citrus-y, he wasn’t really thinking about it. No, instead he was thinking about the way his blood churned in his veins as he walked alongside Burrow. The way his joints stiffened with each brush of brisk wind on his exposed skin. The way he could feel her eyes on him as she was likely studying him. He still couldn’t figure out why; was it the scars that lined his body like cracks on ceramics? Was it how much they had in common despite being on entirely opposite sides of the scale? He felt his teeth grit under pursed lips, the phantom sensation of feeling the deals pressing into his skin though he were tugging against a chain. ‘No matter how much they might seem to be, fae are not and will never be human. Never forget that, boy.’

He just knew that he couldn’t look at her for very long, not unless he wanted to add the feeling of his mind starting to race to his list of sensations. It had been a while now since that Fateful encounter in the forest, when she had bound him to several different deals, each one engraved on the inside of his skull and wrapped around his neck. And yet, despite all of this, Parker still longed to observe her, to take her apart, see how she operated. Add her to his collection. Just a piece. ‘It’s a shame you can’t; I’d love to see that happen.’ It was. He felt himself tightly coiled like the eternal spring he was but his mind was in disharmony regarding acting on that tension - what would he have been able to do if she attacked him? He wasn’t able to think about that at the time he was unfavorably restrained. Which part of it ended with regards serving her goal? She said she wouldn’t kill him, but the Warden knew as well as anyone how much someone could live without.

But then he thought, there wasn’t anything he could’ve done. It was pointless to think about, in that case. Not thinking about it was easier said than done and he tried to turn his mind into being more aware of their surroundings - how many steps it took to get to where they were going, how her tempo was, the sounds she made. The time of day, feeling each time his blood washed over itself in microcosmic waves in his veins.

If there was something fortunate about Burrow, it was that she was similar to Metzli when she didn’t expect small talk. Their journey was one in relative silence, going from Steeper’s Stop to pick up their drinks to the Greenhorn, the trail she had specified to him until the duo arrived at the abandoned structure. Parker’s blue-eyed stare danced over the details of the shed, immediately recalling the similarities it shared to his workshop; how intricately it hid among the foliage, the underbrush and patchy fuzz. How unassuming the exterior felt. How long it had been there, unappreciated until it was found by two individuals that were likely equally as unappreciated. “Very well.” He finally stole a glance sideways at her, uncharacteristically brief before pulling his gaze away once more and motioning for her to lead the way inside the discarded structure. 

—

For the most part, Emilio tended to prefer hunting alone. Other hunters were difficult to trust these days, especially after the various… altercations he’d had with a few of the ones in town. Hunting with nonhunters stressed him out for an entirely different reason, each moment of action tinged with an undercurrent of stress that something might happen, that they might end up dead, that it would be his fault. Hunting alone was a much simpler ordeal, even if it tended to leave him in worse shape than he might have found himself with backup involved. 

But hunting alone had also become a tad more difficult as of late. Sharing a house with Teddy meant that they were aware of his comings and goings, and it was difficult to hide where he was going when he headed out on a hunt. Teddy was smart enough to notice when he went out with more weaponry on him than usual, and they cared enough to prefer it when he didn’t go out alone on those days. Sometimes, Emilio could talk them out of it. Some days, they managed to out-stubborn him. Today happened to be one of the latter.

He trudged along beside them through what remained of the fall leaves on the forest floor, tense and uneasy as he always was when someone joined him on a hunt. The familiar paranoia crawled under his skin, eyes darting to the treeline as Teddy rambled on in a rant likely only designed to keep Emilio from growing too anxious in the silence. At least the adrenaline that came with the paranoid anxiety eased some of the pain in his knee. It had been worse since the ordeal with Parker, but it wasn’t bothering him as much in this moment. It was a small silver lining, but it was there all the same.

It was because of his paranoid scanning of the treeline that he spotted them first. A hand shot out to stop Teddy, a glance telling them to stop talking. Subtly, Emilio guided them behind a nearby tree. His heart was pounding in his chest, anxiety reaching a fever pitch. “Someone’s up ahead,” he said lowly. “I think — Christ, Teds, I think it’s that asshole. Had a kid with him. Shit.” His mind was reeling, hand already going for a knife. “How much do I have to pay you to get you to make a break for it and let me handle this?”

—

A wave doesn’t know that it’s a wave until it crashes. Until the swell rises far above its apogee and clear water gives way to frothy foam. Breaking against rocks, the wave wonders where the ocean went, where the shore began. Why its journey was cut short, why its water became separated. The wave loses its identity in the tidepools until the rest of the ocean comes to greet it. In, out. Teddy didn’t know how they’d react upon seeing the monster who’d mutilated them. More than just cut, Parker Wright disrupted all sense of safety the demon had. Took away agency along with a tail. 

If you’d have asked them, it’s just as likely that they would have assumed fear to be their all consuming response. That they might flee, might put as much distance between the predator and themself as humanly possible. Or that they’d freeze up, petrified heart, stone still body. What they wouldn’t have expected, wouldn’t have guessed in a million years, was the anger. 

Maybe it was a protective thing, seeing the person beside the beast. Sipping at a warm drink, having a stroll. Had he lured them out there? Was he planning on drugging them too? Or was it another exercise in repaying a gregarious kindness with senseless violence? Teddy didn’t know. Teddy didn’t stop to think. Teddy didn’t reply to Emilio, but they didn’t rush ahead either. 

Instead, they shared a look. Determination lacing the righteous rage that seeped through every pore. In a weird way, Teddy wasn’t quite so fragile now. Whatever harm they received they could return in kind. Give the monster a taste of its own medicine, so to speak. A hungry growl peppered the back of Teddy’s throat. Something far more animalistic, far more suited for their old demonic form. Sure, they took the beast out of their body but the instincts still remained. 

“Let’s get a whole hand this time. Think it’ll go nice over the fireplace.” 

—

Though Burrow appeared to slip through the door, appearances were often deceiving. Just as her face was false to the truth of her nature, her body was as well. Her presence far outreached the limits of that physical form. She was everywhere because they were everywhere. She was the mistletoe that swayed in the crisp air. She was the cordyceps that descended to the ground with its ant. She was the worms feeding in the tree’s phloem. She was also the ones who were trampled upon. There was a presence that pressed into her dodders. It could be anything in those woods. True seclusion was never a guarantee. Luckily, she was also her precious vines. A whisper that turned to a steady drum as she had trekked through the woods. Still, her vines were not as close as the others. A distance she had ensured herself. They were far from the human nest and all the fires and poisons that sought to hurt them. But they watched, patiently, in preparation for if anything were to hurt her. It was why she chose this location. If the ironmonger caused trouble (sneaking through the weaves of her deals) or if an outsider did the same (sneaking through the trees of the forest) then her vines would heed her call. 

Burrow entered the shed. She was greeted by a waterfall of light, dripping through the holes in the ceiling. It fell onto the leaves, ones who had been misplaced since her last visit. Another had been in there. She felt no warmth in the air, heard no sounds in the shadows, or tasted no presence on the wood. Whatever it was had left. Presumably. She spared another moment to search the interior of those forgotten walls, only remembered by those who were not of human society. Nothing else caused her concern. Despite the leaves, it was just as she had left it last. 

Burrow turned to the ironmonger without a care for prelude. She had been musing for too long to delay this any further. “I will use myself as bait, in a sense.” Her voice was low. Not a whisper, but a tone the wood easily claimed for itself. Absorbing her voice before the outside could listen. “I will talk to the fae. I will determine what they know. If what they know is favorable, I will lure them to a different location.” Different in many ways. The fae will congregate wherever they could cause trouble, and this human nest seemed supple for the thing. She had been keeping her eyes on areas like the shed. Things that had lost their purpose. She would bless them with usefulness. “You will be waiting at that location… or you may follow us. Whichever is better for your… methods.” That morbid curiosity returned in a flash of her eyes and a catch in her breath. Her fingers tingled as if she could snatch that knowledge off his tongue. “What are your methods? What are your thoughts on the plan?” 

—

Had his mind been more reminiscent of a child, ever having been full of wonder and whimsy, the aspect of stepping trepidatiously into an obscured, abandoned shed that had long since been enveloped in the mystery of the wood would’ve been excitable to him. Someplace new, someplace to explore, to imagine, to let it hold onto his secrets. As it was now, though, as Parker followed the nymph into the shed with its particles dancing in the rays of light, he only felt a modicum of relief; while he didn’t like being restrained at all, he did find a semblance of solace in enclosed spaces. His house was similar in its perceived protection for him, as was his workshop. 

But this wasn’t a place that he found himself. No, Burrow had found it and Parker reliably placed his hands on his utility belt in a self-soothing gesture as he glanced around the interior of the structure mildly. He wasn’t familiar with the place, but she was, putting him at yet another disadvantage. A studious gaze fell to the floor, as though anticipating stepping into another trap - ever since that day, he had been considerably more careful about where he placed his body, his steel-toed boots, extremities. He was nothing if not a learning creature. That same gaze snapped back to her in her glamored form, knowing better what lay under the shimmery veil of misdirection but taking himself to task to look at her as she spoke.

Blunt, to the point. He didn’t… hate it. In fact, he almost hated that she was speaking so quietly he was having trouble hearing her more and his head turned subconsciously. “The plan is satisfactory.” He replied first after a pause as his mind ran through the ever-present list of possible contingencies, setbacks, shortcomings. It was essentially the same as any other fae and fortunately, his extended time with Rhett had since made him more aware of effective interrogation techniques. Keeping his good ear facing her, Parker began to slowly walk around the area, a subtle form of his pacing when he was more stressed. “My methods are… quiet.” His right hand that rested on his belt thumbed gently over the four, fluid-filled, needle-like daggers that were lined neatly on it. Ever since his encounter with Emilio, he had done a little bit of experimentation to find a stronger formula, something that worked on things like balam and other hunters. Two of them held that new formula; he wanted to see if it worked. “I expect something.” He looked over at the nymph. “And when it’s not given to me, I take it by force.” After a measure of deliberation, Parker’s other hand reached into one of the many pouches on the same belt and he pulled out a vial no bigger than the length of one of his medial phalanges, the glass thin and a clear liquid that glinted in the light that made it into the structure sitting tightly inside. “I subdue.” He explained, slowly, carefully extending his hand, three fingers and a thumb caging the vial as he offered it out for Burrow to take. “If you can’t get the information out of them, I’ll sedate and take something of theirs.” He suggested. “As I mentioned before, sometimes they’re more likely to talk if they’re threatened with loss.”

—

Of course Teddy wouldn’t walk away. Emilio hadn’t expected them to, even if he’d hoped for it. Teddy, he’d learned, had a passion about them that wasn’t dissimilar to Emilio’s own. Even if there was some shot that the hunter might have been able to convince them to leave if it were just the two of them and Parker in the woods, the presence of the third figure, the one who was likely well on her way to being the sadistic warden’s next victim, erased any shot of it. Teddy was too kind to leave even a stranger to the same nauseating fate they’d faced for themself. That kindness was a terrifying thing; Emilio couldn’t help but worry about where it would leave them in the end.

Scowling, he glared ahead at the pair. What had Parker said to the kid to convince her to come out in the woods with him? There was no telling. He glanced over to Teddy as they spoke, grunting in agreement. “Rather take his fucking head off.” Last time, Parker’s drugs had allowed him to get a drop on Emilio. The slayer hadn’t been expecting it, hadn’t been ready for it. He knew better this time. This time, he was walking away on top. He’d make sure of it.

He tilted his chin upwards as Parker and the figure with him disappeared into the shed, glancing back towards Teddy. “Can’t stop you from coming,” he acknowledged. “But if shit goes sideways, take the kid and get out. He’ll kill you. He’ll kill her. I don’t think he’ll kill me.” It was a guess at best. Parker had every reason to kill Emilio, and might very well have been planning on it regardless of whether or not they picked this fight now. Given the finger hanging in a shadowbox on the wall back at Teddy’s house, he had plenty of reason to. But it wasn’t a bad guess, either. Hunters hesitating to kill other hunters was the reason Emilio hadn’t gone after Parker sooner, and the fact that Parker was evidently friendly with Rhett might offer Emilio a reprieve that neither Teddy nor the kid in the shed would be promised. “I need you not to fight me on this one, Teds. Okay? Shit goes sideways, you get her out. That’s what’s important.”

—

“You aren’t the one who can regrow bones by snapping his.” Teddy leveled a hardened stare at Emilio. Always wanting to play the sacrifice game, wasn’t he? Here, back in the snow and the concrete room that preceded it. Glimpses of it poked through in every scrap the pair had wormed their way into. Emilio would always try and take the hit, even if he couldn’t actually take it. Even if the slayer had an inkling that the warden wasn’t going to kill him outright, it wasn’t a bet Ted was willing to make. 

Still, an ache persisted in their chest. The same fear he held for them, they reflected back. Neither willing to let the other make the compromise at their expense. Teddy reached out, hand taking the detective’s for a brief moment. Their stare softened, their hand squeezed. “All three of us are getting out of this. Only one getting left behind is a shitheel named Parker Wright.” 

Teddy turned back. Facing the small shack, scanning every inch of it for anything that might give them the upper hand. Small, not quite sturdy enough for them to attempt to come from above, not without giving away any surprise they had. From what they knew, Parker was an ambush predator. Somehow getting unsuspecting victims into a state of vulnerability, despite the severe nature he possessed, only to then subdue them into a malleable piece of meat for him to butcher.

If the time they lost to his methods before was any indication, the man was slow. Methodical. A fucking sociopath rivaling Patrick goddamn Bateman. They had a few moments before the scalpel at worst. Though Teddy preferred to stop the surgery before the sedatives. Before the snake’s venom ever had a chance of taking its toll. Before the kid had to feel like their world was torn, flipped, and changed irrevocably. Not everyone was lucky enough to get a whole new body after such an altercation. 

—

Burrow looked down to the needles before she knew their true purpose. It was clear from the way his fingers curled that it was important to his hunt. She wondered how much it would hurt if that thin metal pierced her skin. It likely would not have caused even a gasp of acknowledgement, the bite as small as her parasites. Of course. Too much pain was not quiet, nor did it invoke charity. She thought of what he had told her online. His interactions with the fae; his fight with the balam. At first believed to be his way of questioning; his way of self defense. No. The two were connected. This is how he hunted. How wonderfully curious. The ironmongers were the same as her: takers. Something of a smile pulled at her lips. “I see.” Her mouth returned to a line. “So, that is how the Ironmongers hunt? They ‘take’ until the fae dies?” It would explain why they were so feared. As a child, she had merely taken a piece of the fae’s domain. To take such a thing was owed to her by her purpose and nature. Even that simple thing had caused so much fear and hatred. “You may take what you want from the fae. I want to take their knowledge.” She paused. “If the fae does not die, I will bind them to prevent them from warning others of the plan. You will threaten to take more if the fae does not accept the bind.” She may give them some of her parasites for their troubles… depending on their injuries. She would not place her parasites in crumbled homes, much like the building the two were in.

Burrow took the vial. It could have been mistaken for empty, containing a liquid of no color or fizz, except for the faint line at the top that shifted with her movement. She studied it in a way that she could still see Parker through its clarity, not fully taking her eyes off him. Still, her concentration did wonder at the implications of his statements. Her heart shuddered. The thing nestled peacefully in her palm had almost led to her demise. Without that knowledge, it was easily overlooked. How fitting, that a thing so small and unassuming would serve the parasites. It may be far more useful than the ironmonger would know. She was not impulsive: her vines had been making progress to her ultimate plan. Still, she was not opposed to adding other strategies in securing her hold on the fae. She would likely use multiple methods due to the multiplicity of the fae and their nature. She was eager to see the sedative’s capabilities. “How much of the sedative is needed to sedate one fae? Is the amount of the sedative that is needed different between types of fae? Are there consequences to the body if the fae is sedated for a prolonged time?”

—

“Not quite.” Parker replied in regards to her first inquiry. ‘Why are you so broken?’ His brother shouted at him from a memory that flitted through his thoughts, a specter that walked so effortlessly through the walls of his mind on occasion. ‘Why can’t you just fix your shit?’ He recalled the memory with such clarity, even if Walker had apologized months later after they hadn’t spoken throughout the duration of those months. “Generally, Wardens are slower to jump mindlessly into an altercation but they’re still killers.” He explained, recalling Rhett, recalling Walker and the rest of his family. “I’m… an outlier.” He admitted after a pause. “...Very well. Make sure you tell me if they will have your parasites on them before I proceed.”

The entomid took the vial, and a small, involuntary pulse, as though he’d been pricked, coursed through his fingers as Parker could feel his blood recoiling from her brief touch. It wanted to retaliate, press itself against his skin to protect him from her. The Warden didn’t display this sensation, however, and instead collected his drink from wherever he’d subconsciously put it down, taking another warming sip, feeling the steam entering his cold nose. While part of him felt as though it’d be appropriate to communicate just how he was a stranger even to other Wardens, he didn’t; she had moved on, and he was content to, as well. ‘Just don’t show any weakness, boy.’ His father warned. ‘People think you’re a killer. Fae won’t be scared of you if they know you just take pieces of ‘em.’ 

But that was where his father was wrong, surely?

Maybe it wasn’t a good idea to add more introspection to his mind that already had too many gears turning, even more than his usual number. ‘Do you ever stop thinking?’ The answer to that question was obvious. “Generally, the amount that you hold in your hand is sufficient for most fae that I’ve encountered.” He explained, gesturing to it. “It has to enter the bloodstream to be efficient. I’m not sure if it works on leshy and it’s less effective on lampades.” Parker took another sip, his other hand still resting on his belt. “I’m proficient enough in my duty that one dose usually works.” A pause. ‘Don’t tell her. If she finds out you aren’t a murderer, she won’t think you’re worth anything.’ The pause made way for a small inhale and a twinge of his brow. “Prolonged sedation leads to sluggish neurological activity, numbness in the limbs and appendages and on one occasion, an accidental overdose led to respiratory arrest.

“...I’m not sure if it would work on you, either.” He added, blue eyes darting to her face once more, his expression shifting slightly to be more absorbing. His imagination replaced her glamor with what he’d seen in the forest, a slide from a projector being replaced over his visual perception of the world. His breath caught in his throat and Parker shook his head to bring himself back to wherever reality was. “I’ve never… encountered someone with your unique form before.”

—

Frustration boiled in his chest, the irritation clear in the scowl twisting his lips. “You can’t just say things will be fine,” he argued. “You wanted me to make a plan, I’m making a plan. He won’t kill another hunter. If he were going to, he would have done it in the woods when he put me under.” It was the first time he’d admitted to Teddy that Parker had sedated him. In all honesty, it wasn’t something Emilio liked thinking about. Control was something important to him. When he felt he’d lost it, he tended to lash out. And with those drugs, Parker had taken away his ability to do even that. But even the idea of a repeat performance of the ordeal was better than the idea of Teddy or the kid losing their lives to this madman. “I’m going to get us all out. Okay? I’m going to make sure everyone makes it out of this still breathing. I’m just asking for your help doing it. If things go wrong, get the kid out. I’ll get me out. She’s important.” More important, but he wouldn’t say it. They didn’t have time for an argument.

Which was why Emilio didn’t wait around for Teddy to agree with him. He trusted them. He trusted that, when it came down to it, they’d trust him back. All three of them were going to be just fine. And Parker Wright — Emilio made note of the last name, just in case — was going to die alone and bloody in the floor of this shed. With any luck, he’d be left there to rot and Emilio wouldn’t have to come up with a lie to tell Rhett or Jade. Either way, he’d be fine.

He moved towards the shed, figuring Teddy would follow along behind him. He tried to keep the noise low, though it was far from his top concern. He’d noted during their fight that Parker didn’t always track sound with proficiency. Hearing didn’t seem to be the warden’s strongest sense. Stopping at the door to the shed, Emilio strained his own ears, momentarily envious of rangers and their advanced hearing. He could make out the low murmur of voices inside, though he couldn’t hear what they were saying. There were definitely two, though. Parker hadn’t drugged the kid yet. That meant they weren’t too late.

Turning back to Teddy, Emilio did his best to communicate this without speaking. He nodded towards the door to the shed, then gestured to himself. Gesturing to Teddy, he held up his index finger. I’ll go in first. You wait a minute. Better to let Parker think Emilio was alone to begin with. Being underestimated allowed the wielding of a powerful weapon.

—

There was little to do about making an actual plan with the short time they had between themselves and the shack. This was probably the best opportunity they had to get at the man, even if they didn’t have a kid in there to save. Hunters could be elusive if they wanted to. Even if they were arrogant pricks who thought themself the apex collector of all things not his. Teddy bristled, but nodded. Positioning themself the best way they could. Out of sight, a hell of a surprise. 

Watching the man leap into action (despite the knot in their stomach, despite the pounding in their chest, despite their wishes that he would do anything else) was a thing of wonder. Emilio was always on guard. Always ready for the next rattlesnake. But this? This was drive, precision. His muscles tensed in a way Teddy had only seen once or twice before. Readied and poised. He was the snake this time. A viper of vengeance and protection. 

Teddy wouldn’t repeat the thoughts it inspired out loud.  

They waited for the signal. Waited for the right moment to step in. Careful. Observant. They could do that, they could be that for him. But goddamn they really wish they had a better set of weapons than the three wooden stakes, two daggers and a set of not-exactly-brass knuckles that they had thrown in the fanny pack as a joke. If they had known the target was going to be him tonight, well. There’d be a whole different set. A scalpel, for one, seemed prudent. 

—

“Oh.” Burrow’s voice chirped in a single note of disappointment. “Well. The others are wasteful, then.” When they die, all the body’s offerings die with them. Though, even in life, there were those whose offerings were pitiful. “Yes. I will not have my parasites in a damaged host. You will avoid excessive damage the few times… I want the fae to live.” A want that almost had its hand in those binds that connected all fae. Hers were tattered and faded from neglect, but still, she felt it. An annoying persistence of her youth. No. The want was for who truly mattered. She looked to her arm — passed the false skin wrapped around her. “The fae will serve us fully if we can claim both information and food from them.” Serve them just as well as the thing that laid in her hand. Her gaze traveled up to look upon it again.

One vial, one fae. A thing smaller than a finger could have brought down the entirety of her. It had come from a pouch which was joined by others; others Burrow was certain held more of the same. Many pouches, many fae. Well, for however long the effects lasted. “How long is the fae sedated from one dose?” She could devise a system. Jab a dose into the skin upon certain time intervals. The consequences of that were not dire. The fae did not need to be physically or mentally capable, they simply needed to be alive. Alive to keep the barrier up; alive to lure in their domain. Their death would lead to the death of her own, as all parasites did when their hosts died. She would ensure their survival, if only barely. 

As if the gaze would pierce in lieu of his needles, the ironmonger stared. Burrow returned it, piercing the same. Looking for something. She had become adept at observing the humans, for all their survival relied on it. But this man was a curious thing. A blank. An ironmonger indeed. “And you will never know if it does, because-” 

Her parasites called out to Burrow. Something, something, something. They did not know what they sensed, for they were things of no thought or care. But still, they sensed something. A something that was approaching. Her gaze on Parker sharpened. Had he invited others to this meeting? If he thought that would be rid of her, he would soon see the consequences of breaking a deal. A likely outcome that had yet to be proven, so she pressed her finger to her lips. A silent shush; a command for silence. Then her hand moved to an inner pocket of her jacket, where her swiss knife lay. She grabbed it, slipping the vial in the pocket as exchange. Her thumb pressed on the blade, ready to swipe it out at a moment’s notice. 

A moment that came with the bang on the door. Feeble from decay, it relented to the intruder’s wish and clattered to the floor.

—

The numbers that ran through Parker’s head could’ve been visible for a flash as he glanced up in thought. How long did it keep one fae under? Again, it relied on physiology, the type of fae, and sometimes even the location of the point of entry. Instead of replying in a timely manner, he instead gave the impression that he was still thinking about the specifics when he noticed that their eyes had locked. It was inherently comfortable, but not because of their contrasting species, their similar behaviors, the two sides of the same coin or the damned reflection that the Warden hated looking at. He always hated eye contact, which Walker was sure to mention on occasion was ‘odd’ considering Parker’s proclivity to stare. He didn’t waver, though, and instead her affirmation that he wouldn’t be able to test whatever theory might’ve formulated in his brain was another small, but notable reminder that they were tethered together by the deals he was coerced into. One of his blue eyes twitched faintly, as though irritated at her rejection but he remained silent, not content with her refusal but begrudgingly accepting it as he was aware of the words wrapped around his throat. The Warden was expecting the rest of a sentence that had been cut short and where it had faltered, her stare on him hardened. He reciprocated with a semblance of a frown, not sure what had happened over the course of a few seconds to warrant both the abandonment of a statement and the glare of the nymph. He was nothing if not able to quickly study body language though, and Parker felt himself instinctively tensing even more than his usual preparation as Burrow herself indicated for him to be silent, reaching for what he assumed was a weapon. Did she bring back-up? Was this actually the setup that Parker had anticipated but in a moment of weakness, he hadn’t allowed himself to be prepared enough? Abruptly, he dropped his cup, splashing the soft wood with steaming liquid as the heat interacted with the frigid temperatures outside the confines of the vessel and he barely had time to turn to face the door when something - or someone - had caved it in. One arm flying up instinctively to protect his eyes from dust particles, plant matter and wood splinters, his other hand quickly reached for the broad dagger from the holster on his thigh. 

—

The knife he gripped in his hand was longing to taste Parker’s blood. He wanted to take the warden apart slowly, wanted to take his remaining nine fingers one by one before starting on his toes, wanted to bleed him dry little by little, bit by bit. But that couldn’t be the priority now, he knew. Parker had a kid in there with him. A kid who was likely about to meet a fate similar to the one Teddy had suffered, or Teagan, or the nymph he’d caught Parker taking to shreds the last time he’d confronted him. Parker deserved everything Emilio wanted to give him, but the kid didn’t deserve to be caught in the crossfire. He’d meant what he said to Teddy before — she was the priority here. Getting her out, keeping her safe, that was what mattered.

So he’d make it quick.

The muffled voices inside the cabin died suddenly. It was hard to determine if it was the result of fronts being dropped and drugs being administered or if he’d been detected. Safer, he knew, to assume the latter. The element of surprise was a powerful weapon but, like most deadly things, it could be turned on the person wielding it fairly easily. To assume you weren’t in control when you were was a pleasant surprise. To assume you were in control when you weren’t was a fatal mistake. So Emilio settled on the former, assumed his advantage had been lost. He hoped that Teddy remained an undetected trump card, glanced over to them with a scowl, hoping to warn them against any drive to act too quickly. It was the last look he’d spare them for a while. Parker knew of him as someone who acted alone. Let him keep thinking it. Let the warden’s superiority complex be his downfall.

Squaring his shoulders, Emilio opened the door, eyes darting over the scene. The kid was still conscious. She was holding something that looked like the weapon Parker had used to drug him in the woods before. Was this the warden’s way of playing with his meal before striking? Emilio wouldn’t put it past him. “You should go,” he said quietly, ignoring Parker in favor of addressing the kid. “This isn’t the kind of man you want to be around.”

—

The knife under Burrow’s sleeve stayed firm in her grasp, its blade not yet fully revealed from its sheath. It was not her moment to strike. A parasite rarely attacked, it simply waited for an opportunity. So, she waited the same, gauging this intruder. He was similar to her associate, baring skin that told a life of violence with eyes that sought more blood. A confirmation for her initial suspicions — except — it was not her blood the stranger sought. No, that bloodlust was directed at Parker. She was only given a warning, as if she was not a danger herself. As if she was some poor victim. It was the stranger who was the fool. While she would not weep upon Parker’s demise, she did not want him dead. He was useful, and she was certainly not finished with him yet. 

Though her face stayed facing the intruder, her eyes flicked over to Parker. Burrow waited for reciprocity, their eyes meeting, before calling to her parasites. A cauliflower fungus feasted on the dead wood of that long forgotten shed. Its cluster of mushrooms was advantageous: a nook just by the opening of the door. Her influence wrapped around those mushrooms and directed their aim. A swirling cloud of white spores erupted in the air, right into the intruder’s face. In the same moment, she mouthed to Parker: There is another one outside. Her tick could see them, those human shoes lurking beyond the walls. It could not decipher much else, for its view was small and its mind much smaller. 

Burrow seemed to follow the advice of the known intruder. She threw aside a hanging blanket, revealing a broken window. Its glass had long ago lost its dangerous edge, so she slipped through it with ease. Out into the world, she looked to where her tick had seen the human. There they were, somehow standing both stiff and unsteady. She kept her gaze on them, watching and waiting. But she did react, though not noticeably. Her influence reached out further, invisible tendrils branching from her body the same as the mycelium below. They coiled around her vines who were eager to finally hear her call. But she did not call to them all. Her call was focused on the ones who had already satisfied their urges. Those who had claimed — those who could run. A few began to run to her.

—

He didn’t afford himself much time to shield his eyes from getting anything in them - each moment was one that compromised him for an incoming attack. The dagger removed from its holster rose in a defensive position as he forced his eyes open. As he did, a familiar voice managed its way into his good ear.

Emilio. 

Parker’s nostrils flared as an involuntary surge of anger tore its way through his tense body. He wondered how the hell Emilio managed to find him out here, in the middle of seemingly nowhere. He wondered if it was stupid luck or some semblance of actual skill, though that wonder was quickly discarded - he refused to acknowledge that Emilio might’ve been good at anything. ‘Oh c’mon, surely other hunters can be skilled at things.’ Walker suggested, nudging him in the shoulder with an elbow once over ten years ago. The Warden’s gaze narrowed, not daring to remove his icy glare from the slayer. Last time, he got several knives thrown at him. The space they were in now was much smaller; surely that wouldn’t have worked. 

Last time, he got caught off-guard, as well. And last time, the fae he was with was unconscious. So while he was expecting some empty dialogue to be shared again, Parker wasn’t expecting the slayer to address Burrow first. A recommendation for her to leave. An assumption that the parasite nymph was one of his targets, which was both correct and incorrect. How Parker longed to dismantle Burrow, find out what was under her squirming, writhing visage. He wanted to study her, an intense fascination that dug into his brain sometimes. ‘It’s funny because it’s like a parasite.’ 

And he couldn’t. 

Just like he told Rhett he wasn’t going to kill Emilio. 

Those unspoken promises, one of which he felt around his neck whenever he was near Burrow and the other souring his saliva as he stared down the slayer, threatened to leave his mind as he resisted the rage that wanted to overwhelm him. The hand that his finger had been cut from thudded with a phantom pain that had quickly since been ignored and forgotten until this moment in time. Instead of indulging in that urge, however,, he managed to tear his eyes off the slayer and he looked at Burrow for a moment, as though to communicate that this wasn’t his idea. Whether that communication was effective, there was no way for Parker to know but as steely blue met dark brown, she had summoned something from the ground, something that plumed and blossomed like a ghostly explosion of decompositional flora and something, presumably spores, were sprayed into the air, directed at Emilio. Subconsciously, Parker started to hold his breath and he took a step back. Burrow had mouthed something to him, but though  he was adept at reading lips, he wasn’t sure if he understood clearly. There was someone else outside? Well, he supposed there was now as Burrow took the opportunity of distraction to escape from the decrepit building, leaving the two hunters inside as the Warden turned his gaze back to Emilio. He still wouldn’t strike first, even as he held the advantage. It was unbecoming so instead he backed up until he hit the far wall, silently, the dagger still held in front of him to block whatever would come his way first.

—

He’d been expecting an attack from Parker. A lunge, a throwing knife, maybe some attempt to hit him with those fucking sedatives. He’d been prepared for any and all forms of hunter attacks, body tensing in anticipation even as he addressed the nymph first. He hadn’t been expecting the nymph to come at him. A cloud of some kind of dust exploded all around him, invading his lungs and eyes. He shut the latter as quickly as he could, an instinctive attempt to prevent damage, but he couldn’t stop some of the shit from getting in them. Emilio grunted, taking a step back and bringing a hand up to rub the intrusion away.

Being blinded, even momentarily, wasn’t ideal. His heart thudded at the very concept, paranoia settling deep into his veins. He tilted his head, listening for Parker’s movements and gripping the hilt of his knife so tightly his knuckles went white around it. Why had the kid attacked him? Some terrified inability to tell friend from foe? Or… Was she working with Parker? The very thought seemed laughable. Parker didn’t strike him as the type to work with a fae, and he couldn’t imagine anyone who knew half of what he’d done teaming up with him, either. (Except for another hunter, of course; that was a different matter entirely.)

Questions swirled in his mind as he finally forced his eyes open. His vision was still blurry, but blurry was better than blind. The kid was gone. He could only assume she’d vanished in his blindness, and regardless of the reason behind her attack, that was probably a good thing. If she was working with Parker, it meant one less foe to worry about. He didn’t love the idea that she might stumble across Teddy, but Teddy had their healing and he’d much rather they go against the kid than Parker. If she wasn’t working with Parker, it was good that she’d gotten away. 

His eyes locked with Parker’s, anger burning through them. The warden hadn’t attacked while he was blinded; Emilio was almost insulted. But only almost. In a fight, letting your pride cost you an advantage would only ever cause you to lose, and Emilio had no intention of doing that. If Parker wasn’t smart enough to take the advantage, Emilio would ensure he lost it. He was a scrappy fighter, used to fighting opponents more powerful than him. That was the nature of a hunter; while genetics granted them some useful perks, the things they were hunting were always going to have the upper hand. And right now, for Emilio, Parker was one of those things.

He shot forward, adrenaline granting him speed in spite of his useless leg. Whoever’s side the nymph may have been on, there was no way to know how long she’d remain out of the fight. Unlike his opponent, Emilio wouldn’t let any advantage slide from his hands. He feigned an attack on the left before ducking, attempting to plunge his knife into the right side of Parker’s chest instead. Finish it quickly, get out, get Teddy. That was the plan now.

—

The sudden flurry of activity wasn’t exactly what Teddy expected, but then again they barely knew what to expect at all. Emilio dove headfirst into the fray, but someone else jumped out almost just as quickly. Took the ex-demon more than a second to realize it was the kid. The one they were trying to protect. In succinct succession their expression shifted. From a hardened worry, all close knit brows and clenched jaws, to a relieved surprise. A smile ghosted their parted lips as their eyes widened. Almost blowing their cover by shouting something over to her. 

Instead, Teddy mimed an ‘are you okay?’ over to the kid. Shortly followed by a ‘get out of here, get to safety’. Though that was probably a bit harder to read. Lots of reassuring palms and frantic gestures to the wayside. Deep into the woods where a fae would be safe, right? The ex-demon knew a lot, but they were no expert. That being said, nature was kind to most of its guardians. 

With the kid out of the way, all that was left was the monster. Even before Teddy’s hand hit the handle on the door their heartbeat was the only thing they could hear. Any sounds of the scrape between the two hunters was drowned out and muted as everything began to sound as if it was underwater. No, that would’ve been comforting. This sounded more like they were being suffocated. Somehow, they knew it wouldn’t relent until they entered. Until they joined the fight. Until they won. Guess it was time to give the bastard a bit of his own medicine. 

The ex-demon burst through the door, following the path the hunter took. Hopefully putting themself between whatever Parker had planned and the man who assumed it was his job to take it. The adrenaline was pumping, their vision was blurred around the edges, but he was vivid at its center. 

“Remember me, asshole? My turn to take something.” 

—

Burrow returned the human’s silence for more of her own. A silence void of any meaning or offering. Unlike the human, who offered her a warning, the same as she had warned Parker of their presence. The two intruders were very concerned for her, despite never bothering to ask her wants. She did not want to leave — she wanted them to leave. Still, she continued on her walk as if she accepted this warning as well. It was Parker who hunted, who held a knife the moment he was born. Burrow did not run into a fight, but she would watch one. Hidden behind the skeleton of a bush, peering through its bare branches.

Though steps away, Burrow followed the human with her senses. My turn to take something. Curious. The person was clearly not a fae, but it seemed they were no human either. She doubted Parker would take from his own kin. Could this stranger be the balam he had once mentioned? Her eyes immediately dropped down to the stranger’s ass, but saw no signs of a dent. Nothing to indicate the missing of a tail, sealed behind that human skin. It did not rule out her suspicions, but it did not solve them either. She would have to wait if she wanted to learn the stranger’s nature. A curiosity she would forfeit, for revealing their nature could cause the death of Parker. Parker was her host, she would not let them kill him before his use was done. 

Burrow would not ask more from her fungi. It needed to save the rest of its spores for the proper time. Through the air, the tendrils of her energy searched for another. More diversions to stumble the strangers before her hounds arrived. Her tachinid flies heeded her call, weaving about her expansive presence. She swarmed them with her love, before urging them to swarm. Go to the cabin. The air around the shed’s door became littered in small dots. Unassuming and easily missed. Until she dug her essence into their wings, turning their silent flapping into a wail. A shriek that dug the same as her, writhing into the intruder’s ears. 

—

The movement was swift, as it tended to be, even with a disabled leg but it still wasn’t quick enough for Parker’s mental arsenal of contingencies. The fake-out was expected and tolerated in place of the Warden moving to block the incoming dagger to his chest as the clash of metal scraped through the cold air. He used the momentum (and the offset weight of the slayer favoring his good leg) to push Emilio away from him, creating some distance between the two when suddenly the third party that Burrow had warned him about made themselves present in the room, glaring at him. A short pause in thought to the question before the Warden raised a brow. “The show-off Bisexual.” He replied bluntly, straightening up for just a second before returning to his defensive position, stepping lightly as he was determined not to expose his back to either of them. He wasn’t accustomed to fighting two at once, but he was even less accustomed to retreating from a fight, especially one that seemed to churn in his mind on occasion. Parker was frustrated with how often he thought about the first fight with Emilio, how much time was wasted wondering what would happen if they encountered each other again. There was no respect, no begrudging acceptance that it was a fair fight and that Emilio had held his own despite his lack of skill, thought or cleverness. And the thought that Emilio didn’t tell anyone that he had lost that fight did more than irritate Parker; it infuriated him. The slayer had taken a finger but he lost. And yet no one had perceived it that way. Parker received no praise from Rhett for not killing his “brother”, Jade treated it like it was a joke and she was still friends with Emilio despite the latter’s poor decision. He was sure if he told Owen, that slayer would’ve made a sardonic comment about it. This was why he didn’t have any friends; they weren’t friends with him, they were acquaintances, people to use him until they got bored, until he did something that was bad enough to warrant them deciding not to be “friends” with him. Parker wasn’t a failure, despite that being all that he heard from his father’s echoing voice in his head ever since that day, chastising him for not striking the killing blow. He wasn’t a failure, despite finding himself in a ramshackle cabin with two people who wanted him dead with the fae that he had made deals to nowhere in sight. He wasn’t a failure. He couldn’t have been. He wasn’t a failure, as the three started to engage in a desperate struggle before a loud screeching could be heard outside. It only reached half of him but the other half spontaneously wanted to shut down. Instead, he took the opportunity to slash out at one of Teddy’s arms while his other hand was busy preparing itself for another attempted stab from Emilio.

—

Parker dodged the attack — expected, but frustrating all the same. Emilio would have liked to have ended the whole ordeal before Teddy came onto the scene at all, because he knew that was only a matter of time. Teddy disliked the idea of letting Emilio take a fight on his own, even if fighting was what Emilio was for, what he was good at. They’d come to help, because they cared about him. He remembered the way they’d looked just speaking about Parker on the floor of their kitchen, how small they’d seemed. He’d wanted to make a corpse of the warden so that when Teddy came barging in, they’d find themself avenged, protected. He wanted to show Teddy the same… warmth that they’d always offered to him, and he’d only ever known how to do that through violence. But Parker dodged the attack, and he was still breathing when Teddy barged in the door. It wasn’t ideal.

Neither was the way Emilio stumbled backwards as Parker shoved him. His leg had been worse since his last encounter with the warden; carrying even less weight than it used to, aching more than it had before. It was a weakness he knew the other hunter would capitalize on if he spotted it, and it was a weakness that was hard to miss in the way he stepped backwards now. “Don’t talk to them,” he snapped as Parker turned to Teddy, anger burning in his chest. 

He took another step forward, ready to go in for the kill, ready to turn the damn floor red. And then — the screech. Loud, unexpected. Two things that Emilio wasn’t much good with anymore, two things that tended to have an ill-effect on an addled mind. It disoriented him, made his ears hurt, made his eyes dart wildly from side to side as he searched for the source. Something’s wrong, his mind whispered, something’s here. It’s going to kill you, it’s going to kill them, don’t you get it? It’ll tear the world apart all over again. 

His eyes settled back on Parker just as the warden slashed out at Teddy, and any limited strategy the slayer possessed vanished with the glint of the warden’s blade. He was a rabid dog as he launched himself forward, eyes wild and settling nowhere for long. He was a flurry of movement — slashes, stabs, fists, teeth. Emilio was raised in a way that found him fighting for every ounce of life he had; moments like this saw that heritage shining through. The movements were without strategy, but unpredictable as a result. With that disorienting sound triggering the parts of his mind that never left Mexico, he was a hard thing to pin down.

—

Where the fuck did that noise come from? The ex-demon was reeling long before the screeching ended. Staggered as if it had been a physical blow. Maybe not as hard as the hunters would have hit, but a strike all the same. And it wasn’t the only one. The momentary disorientation was all Parker needed to slash out and strike skin. Blood, bright red and human seeped from Teddy’s wound. Jagged and deeper on one side than the other, an imperfect strike. Good. Hurt worse in the moment, but that seemed to be the kind of thing that pissed Parker off. Ted didn’t know much but they knew a perfectionist when they saw one. 

Was it the surprise of a second guest, they wondered, or the noise? Probably the former, Parker didn’t react quite as badly as Emilio did. Had the warden somehow caused that, was it part of the trap for the fae girl? Some supernatural creatures had extremely sensitive hearing, it was only logical to think some fae might as well. That it might be another of the coward’s tools like the drugs he’d hit Ted with before. The thought of which made their head spin, and their eyes snap towards the strange daggers on the man’s belt. 

The slash on their arm was not enough to stop Teddy, wasn’t enough for them to show their hand and give it back either. Too early to show what would happen. In a way, the stinging gash along their arm was a driving force. Painful, and weakening that arm quite a bit, but igniting a fire inside their chest all the same. Unfortunately, they weren’t the only bonfire lit by the action. Ted’s attention whipped around just in time to see Emilio lunge at the other hunter. Fuck. Right within range of the scorpion’s tail. 

So Teddy rushed at a different angle. Reaching out for a slash of their own, going for the belt that held those dangerous daggers. Metal met leather with a gnawing resistance, but Parker was far too tangled up in Emilio’s teeth (goddamn, now that was a mental image to savor) to stop the ex-demon from snapping the strip, then slinging it out of the belt loops. Quickly, they tossed the thing as if it was a live grenade. Far enough away from the fray that it might as well have been in a different state. This turn, however, served another purpose. Bait. Parker had wriggled one arm free, still had a blade of some kind in his hand. And Teddy had just presented him with a wide open target. Too enticing to ignore. 

—

Snapping orders on what and what not to do. An observation that no amount of bravado could hide the knowledge that Emilio’s leg wasn’t any better than last time; if his quick observation was correct, Parker wasn’t the only one who lost something in their last fight. It should’ve given him a flash of satisfaction, but he wasn’t allowed any time between frenzied attacks from Emilio, especially after he could feel his dagger striking flesh. Uneven, unsatisfying, but there just the same. The Warden didn’t even have time to examine the damage he’d done (or see the black blood that surely spilled from the wound as it did last time) when something seemed to ignite in Emilio, the latter growing even more erratic and careless, but also utilizing his enhanced speed in ways that made it impossible for Parker to block them all and soon enough, he had placed his focus once more on the other hunter. The two became almost intertwined with each other; arms banging against one another, legs crossed as they pushed against the ground while trying to stay standing, themselves. There were different attacks coming from every angle he could perceive and then some but he reacted as best as he could to each of them, opting to block the knife in favor of whatever else the slayer had at his disposal– ‘Wait did he just bite you??’ Walker asked incredulously as the Warden sucked in a breath of surprise when he felt teeth being buried in his arm. Somehow, he was expecting that less than any stab wound and the hand that wasn’t holding the knife grappled for Emilio’s curly brown hair in an attempt to pry him off. Parker was so focused on being caught off-guard like that that he wasn’t aware of Teddy coming in from one of his blind spots and he realized with a sensation far, far stronger than the surprise that painted his face upon being bitten that his utility belt had been removed. Abruptly abandoning any endeavor to attack Emilio, his gaze snapped down where it found nothing, then his head jerked up just in time to see Teddy throw the belt with enough arm strength that it disappeared from his view. His breath caught in his throat and wild blue eyes with their tiny pupils darted to Teddy, who seemed to leave themselves open for him. Time slowed, or perhaps it was just his own enhanced senses but in any case, he was being confronted with options: In a deft maneuver, Parker had swapped hands that held the knife and for a split second, he was ready to stab Emilio just for the trouble - the two were obviously close and he himself was starting to lose the fight, especially as he struggled to keep himself from hyperventilating as he the weightlessness of his belt being torn from him and placed so out of reach threatened to send him into a meltdown. Teddy obviously wanted him to go for them, which was why it made more sense to remove Emilio, then he could take Teddy apart limb from limb. He inhaled…

…But any thoughts that were racing through his head were promptly lost as oozing crimson caught his eye. The belt was all but forgotten. Emilio’s teeth, his blade, his fists, anything against Parker was dulled. The sounds of struggle became muted as though they were plunged underwater and the pupils that were pinpricks just seconds ago swelled in size, almost like a cat suddenly fascinated with a moving object. Air was expelled from his nostrils and he wrenched his arm from Emilio, spraying his own blood everywhere as he wordlessly attempted to use the slayer as a springboard. The four inches of advantage he had over the slayer was utilized as well as still having two working legs and he rushed for Teddy– no, he rushed for Teddy’s arm, knife in one hand and approximately zero critical thoughts going through his head as everything was drowned in red. The pulsing, fevered spot on his back, obscured under both his shirt and jacket, sent signals to his mind. Consume. It wasn’t black. It didn’t matter. Parker was on them in a flash, all but dropping the dagger as he used his bare fingers to pull open the wound so he could sink his teeth into it and feed on their blood.

—

His teeth found purchase, and Emilio held on tight. The full force of his jaw was locked around Parker’s arm, even as his hands continued striking out with blades gripped in the fists. The warden’s hand was in his hair, trying to yank him back, but Emilio held fast. The pain was a long-forgotten thing. The sound was still assaulting from every angle, and Emilio’s mind was a frazzled thing. He smelled blood; he thought it might have been Teddy’s. The thought only served to further enrage him, and he tried for another stab in the center of Parker’s abdomen. Even in this state, he knew the best bet when fighting a skilled opponent was to aim for center mass, where you had a good shot at hitting something even if they dodged.

In spite of the stench of blood in the air, Teddy seemed to be holding their own. Out of the corner of his eye, Emilio saw Parker’s drug kit fall away. It was a smart move; he hadn’t thought of it himself, but he should have. The drugs had been what Parker used to take him out last time. If the warden got a chance to do the same thing again, Emilio wasn’t certain he’d wake up with all of himself still attached. But the slayer wasn’t the only one who noticed the kit falling away — it caught Parker’s attention, too.

And it wasn’t the only thing.

It was funny; Emilio recognized the behavior. It was a half-realized thing, in the state he was in, but bloodlust was the sort of thing he’d been trained to pinpoint since the time he was a child. The look in a vampire’s eyes when it zeroed in on its meal, the single mindedness of a hungry beast. The warden jumped at Teddy, grabbed for their bloody arm, sunk his own teeth in, and Emilio took a moment to focus on that hollow of his gut that usually tugged when there was something undead around. But the feeling wasn’t there now. Parker, despite his behavior, hadn’t been turned into a vampire since the last time Emilio had seen him. He was just… trying to eat Teddy’s arm. Huh.

The warden’s quest for Teddy’s blood had sent Emilio stumbling back a few feet, a chunk of Parker’s arm still clenched between his teeth. He spat it out in quiet disgust, shaking his head to try to center himself in spite of the sound. Being used as a springboard hadn’t done any favors for his bad leg, but he was miraculously still on his feet. And Parker was attacking Teddy, and even knowing that everything he was doing was being dolled back in his direction piece by piece wasn’t enough to quell the rage that came with that. Maybe Teddy’s new party trick would serve as a decent distraction. Emilio was about to find out. 

Launching forward once again, he readied his knife and hoped that this time, it would be his blade that came away bloodied.

—

If the sensations from the battle up in the bunker in the mountains were strange, this was something else. Bizarre. Vile. One part excruciating, one part invigorating. Fingernails found purchase between the layers of skin. Peeling and prying at the weeping wound to get a better angle for his hungry mouth. Teddy felt panicked, a whole new flavor of freaked out. Their heartbeat quickened, blood pressure spiked, the body’s defense of sending all its blood to their extremities started becoming a real fucking concerning issue. 

The sanguine fluid dribbled out and all over Teddy’s arm as Parker cracked into it like a greedy toddler trying to get at the candy in the center of a pinata. The ex-demon flailed, trying to put their whole strength into a move that would have thrown the man across the room with as much ease as they had clipped the belt but– but Teddy was human now. Human and broken enough that their strength was nothing impressive, certainly not something that could rival a hunter’s. Instead their shoulder popped with a sickening sllu–lruck! Drooping lazily for a moment behind them as they struggled to get away like a fox caught in a bear trap. 

Even so, the Leviathan’s final gift was weaving its magic. 

In Parker’s frenzy, maybe he didn’t notice right away. Teddy had no idea what had gotten into the man who they were pretty sure was a warden and not a vampire or something. Teddy hadn’t ever been jumped by vampires before. Demon blood apparently wasn’t too tasty. And since the ritual, well, Emilio had been sticking close enough around to act like mosquito repellent. As the ex-abomination watched and struggled against the shifting tides of skin and blood, they saw the way the skin tried to knit itself closed around the teeth still stuck deep within their flesh. Saw how it molded around, like the knots of a tree bending to the whims of iron fences, only to overtake with time and effort. 

By the time their shoulder had popped back into place, Teddy was feeling woozy. The magic was struggling to keep up in a realistic way. It may have been pumping that much damage into the feral warden, may have been trying desperately to close the wounds his gnawing teeth and gnashing hands sought to re-open. That, or it was the sheer amount of magic that had to flow through in such quick succession. Either way, the edges of their vision started going dark and Ted had one hell of a fall. 

—

The taste of copper on his tongue wasn’t a welcome one, Parker had acknowledged that immediately. But it was necessary, through a powerful urge that he wasn’t sure he’d ever felt so strongly aside from when he found something he needed to add to his collection. The word ‘obsession’, said in disgust by his father when he would overhear the hushed conversations the man and his mother would have behind closed doors, found its way into his head once more. ‘He’s impossible sometimes, Eris.’ He said as the Warden clumsily, carelessly sucked at the open wound to siphon blood from Teddy’s freshly-dislocated arm. 

‘He gets these… ideas in his head and it’s like he doesn’t realize where he is.’ A fresh, unnatural spike of pain came from his other arm now as his chin was coated in crimson. ‘He shuts down and gets unresponsive.’ The wound Parker’s jaw was clenched around was… closing, skin trying to push his teeth out from it. Every ounce of blood the Warden consumed seemed to fire another neuron in his brain, a machine fuelled by life itself with no grace, no capacity for recognizing when it should be grateful or understanding when it needed to stop. He jerked his head to the side as he felt the flesh attempting to stitch itself up, a human can opener with teeth not suited for what they were trying to do, a throat that wanted to gag as blood seeped down his esophagus but an insatiable hunger that overwhelmed him despite everything else he felt. 

‘He doesn’t understand pain.’ Accompanied with the sensation of his own arm being pulled open by teeth not suited for what they were trying to do, miraculously forming as though he were being bitten by an invisible specter was the decidedly sharper pain of a knife in his side. More blood unlocked more of his capacity to think; Emilio was still there, Parker had turned his back on him and in that moment, the slayer had taken advantage. Every ounce of him that grappled to take control back told him that what he was doing wasn’t worth it. He would bite, the wound would close and he’d feel something akin to, well, teeth sawing into his arm. An arm that felt like it’d been tethered to a car that wrenched it from its socket.

‘You wanted a hunter.’ His mother replied curtly, with that tone Parker only heard on occasion, and mostly when he was listening in to their conversations. ‘He hunts. And I’d have expected you of all people to know what obsession feels like; he got it from you.’ He wasn’t sure if the knife was still in his side or if it had been pulled out, opening a hole for him, his own iron-rich blood pouring from it. He wanted– he needed to inspect it, to refocus his attention on Emilio, especially if the damage he was doing to Teddy wasn’t amounting to anything. His vision still swimming, blurred over and almost not recognizing anything but what was colored red, the Warden’s bones cracked as he pulled himself from the human just as the latter fell to the ground. 

He straightened up despite both arms pulsing with bite wounds (and one of which swinging loosely), the inflamed sore on his back demanding he pay more in blood and the knife wound in his side and Parker, dripping, gasping for breath and still yet almost completely silent, cast his steely stare to Emilio. His own dagger had since been dropped. His blue eyes searched for an opening on Emilio, any place where the red stood out. He found nothing. He’d find something; Emilio bled just as well as he or Teddy or anyone else did. Staggering slightly, Parker attempted to kick Emilio’s bad leg once more. He’d fall, and his eyes would be at the perfect height for Parker to gouge them out with his thumbs. He’d drink from those sockets. ‘He doesn’t understand pain because you made sure he doesn’t understand pain.’ As he kicked, he brought one of his arms up and twisted it until his mouth was caressing his own skin, pulling blood from his own veins now in an attempt to quell the seemingly-unquenchable thirst. 

‘How am I supposed to punish a boy who doesn’t feel anything?’

‘Maybe think about how that’s punishment enough.’

—

The vines bursted through the hole once known as a window. Wiggling and twisting like water from a spout. As if they had no limitations to the shapes they bore, except for the muffled clicking from their core. Clicks of those long dead bones below the surface. The vines were things of death, but they could be persuaded otherwise from the right mouth. The vines’ mouth was a spiral into darkness: a meager mimicry of the thing that rotted inside them. It latched onto Parker, the spiraled vines curling around both his arms. They slithered through the window, man and hound, and into the crisp air. But that hedgehound’s assistance was over, for it was the retriever. Parker was flung onto another: one mighty and swift. A thing worthy to be a steed, as its vines secured Parker onto its back. 

Most things came in threes, and the hounds were no exception. The third loomed by the cabin, matching the second in girth. The only thing taller was Burrow, who clung onto its mighty back. With only a twitch of her will, the hound eagerly followed her command. Twisted masses that mimicked hind legs kicked the corner of the shed. It too was eager to bend to her will — it bent into total submission. With only a tremble of protest, the shed began to crumble to the ground. Nature had fully claimed it at last.

Burrow did not care to see it to fruition. She would not let the intruders harm her parasites or her host any longer. Back to the trees she urged her precious hounds, and back to the trees they ran. The steeds ran in tandem: side by side. The retriever trailed behind. Its legs twisted into their opposing directions, sending the hound into a backwards gait. Keeping its eyes steady upon what once was the shed and those inside.

It freed Burrow’s own eyes to look at Parker. She saw a composed man look closer to a bloody beast. “You are a full mess. Remember, you cannot harm me.” What had happened? The man ruminated when his emotions simply overstayed their welcome. Surely he would not worry about such little things if this chaos was common. A madness that had him biting whoever dared cross his maw, even his own flesh. Her retriever hound had told her of such. She could see its evidence: how the mess of gore concentrated on his lips. Even all the marks on his shoulder did not produce as much blood that dripped off his lips. Drippings he desperately licked upon. Almost as if he was… hungry. How interesting. “You will explain to me why you bit the intruder and yourself… after you calm down and deal with your wounds. Your amount of blood loss is wasteful and unhealthy.” She urged her vines to press onto the gash on his side, holding what blood they could into his body. “I will put the moss on your wounds. Then, you will tell me why you were biting.”

—

Teddy fell. Parker attacked them and they fell, and it was too loud, and his leg hurt, and he could smell blood in the air and taste it on his tongue and he didn’t think he’d be able to breathe again until the taste went away completely or he ripped the warden’s throat out with his teeth to add to it. The walls of the room were starting to shift and blur, and Emilio was as angry as he always was, as terrified as he always pretended not to be. A shed in the woods, a living room in Mexico, it was all the same. There was a monster in front of him with blood in its teeth, and he knew how to kill something like that, so he would. This was what he was good for, after all, this was the point of him.

The slayer readjusted the knife in his hand, readied himself to strike. Kill the monster, serve your purpose. It was simple. 

But everything was only ever simple until it wasn’t. 

There were vines; it took a moment for Emilio to realize that they weren’t just in his head. They crawled through the windows, they scooped Parker up. There were creatures — hedgehounds, he knew those were hedgehounds — and they were riding in like stallions, were carrying the warden away. The fae was back, was helping him, and it didn’t make any sense. Hunters could work together with the things they were supposed to hunt sometimes, but the idea of Parker doing so seemed so utterly ridiculous that Emilio couldn’t wrap his mind around it. But the hedgehounds were whisking the warden away, and the nymph seemed to be controlling them. It didn’t take a detective to put two and two together. 

Nor did it take one to recognize the way the building began to tremble.

He could have gone after them. He knew that. Even with his bad leg, there was a chance he could have caught up. But the building was shaking and Teddy was on the ground, and Emilio couldn’t bare the thought of leaving them so he didn’t. Instead, he rushed over. He draped himself over them, let his skin brush against theirs. (Were there any injuries left, any more evidence of Parker’s assault? He’d take it all, if he could. He wanted to.) The ceiling fell, too old and decrepit to do any real damage even as it collapsed around him. He was a better shield than he was a person, he thought. He liked himself better when he was serving a purpose.

By the time it was all done, there was no sign of the hedgehounds. No sign of the warden or the fae, no sign of anything but Teddy and Emilio in the wreckage. Emilio glared in the direction they’d taken off in, furious that the warden had escaped with his life again, furious with himself for his failure. He’d spend the rest of the night drinking it away, he thought; chasing the feeling of inadequacy with a bottle of whiskey, burying the aches and pains of the fight with bitter amber. But… There were more important things to take care of first.

He stood, brushed himself off. One arm went under Teddy’s head, another under their knees. He scooped them up gently, cradling them carefully against his chest as he stood. His leg ached in protest at the added weight, already unhappy at the results of the fight, but he pushed the pain to the back of his mind. It was a message; it could be ignored. Straightening, he took an unsteady step forward, and then another. It’d be slow going, but he’d get them home eventually. 

And then, with a bottle in his hand, he’d figure out just what he was going to do next. He still had a warden to kill, after all.

[ladyimaginarium]

[fastasyoucan1999]

hi brynn <333 hope you and emilio are doing well xx i wanted to ask if maybe you have the time if you would mind talking about your favorite things about thg + your least favorite + the thing that you feel that people miss about it/tend to misinterpret maybe please and thank you <333

ren i really wish i could give u some intelligent and thoughtful response to this that shows my capacity for critical engaging and impassioned discourse but uh. unfortunately thg is not where i can reach that level of thought processing

my favorite thing abt thg is it brings me back to being twelve years old again and my least favorite thing abt thg is that it reminds me i can never go back to being twelve years old again </3

also catching fire is not the best of the trilogy

[k4zp3rluvr]

anothr silly old art i would rather publish them..!!!!