Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

"Come have a seat."
The voice comes from deep in the darkness. Low, gravely, as though having had many hard drinks in its time. Even though there's nothing to see, Alastor calmly steps forward through the dark, unyielded by the lack of light. As he blinks, his eyes adjust to it. A figure appears slowly. Stout, but broad. Ears curved to points a top a rounded head. Large brows, and a down turned mouth. Bright yellow eyes turn up to him.
"Have a seat."
Alastor looks down as a chair appears from red smoke. He says nothing, lowering himself. He sits straight, just as his mother taught him. The figure in front of him continues his ministrations of shuffling a deck of cards. He's quite good.
"Where am I?" Alastor finally asks.
There's a slight, two second pause.
"Hell." the voice has a slight amusement to it.
Alastor can't help but smile, his eyes glancing around at the sea of black around them.
"I wondered why it was so dark."
The cards stop. Yellow eyes look up.
"You're not concerned in the least?"
Alastor chuckled.
"Not at all. I had the most fun up there."
"I bet ya did."
The cards continue. They sit in silence for some time. The figure begins to deal. Alastor doesn't pay the cards any mind.
The figure has large wings. Deep red. Pitch black.
"You're a demon, then?" Alastor asks.
"Yeah."
His answer is simple, and yet it only partly answers Alastor. He can't ask another question before the figure's eyes meet his. Alastor can see the yellow is floating in a sea of blood red.
"I assume you know how to play?"
His voice is almost mesmerizing. Almost.
"What do we play for?"
At this, the figure's mouth curls at the ends.
"Souls."
His voice is smoother now.
"Souls?" Alastor smiled, head tilting.
This brings on his curiosity.
"It's simple. You win, you get my soul, and all the souls under my command."
He picks up his own cards and shuffles through them before continuing.
"If I win, your soul is mine." his eyes meet Alastor's.
Alastor hummed.
"What does one do with souls?"
"Whatever the fuck you want."
Alastor likes the sound of that.
"I accept the conditions."
The figure scoffs at this. He isn't disappointed, but he doesn't sound happy either.
"You'd willingly toss your soul on the table on the off chance you win?"
Alastor sat straighter.
"I have nothing else to lose."
"Don't say I didn't warn ya, kid."

Chapter Text

The game is a close call. Alastor knows cards well. His mother and him used to play. Though that was a long time ago.
The yellow eyed man stands. Alastor can see a long, slender tail swing behind him.
"Looks like the deal is won. Shake my hand." he holds out a hand.
Alastor raised a brow.
"Come on, boy. I don't got all day."
He takes his hand. A bright red light burns through the area. The man smiles. This time, it shows off how sharp his teeth are.
"I'll see you in hell, Alastor."

Then he's gone. Alastor wakes with a start on cold hard earth. A dark forest looms above him. He knows this forest. He's home.

"Interesting." he hummed, climbing to his feet and dusting off.
He assumes he won't be seeing that man again, but who's to say.
Time passes, days, weeks, maybe years will go by. Who cares? Alastor hasn't been caught yet. Maybe he never will be.
"Alastor." a voice, whispy but clear.
He pauses.
"Alastor." the voice again.
He hums softly.
"Interesting, indeed." he tells himself.
He continues his walk back to his house.

That night, as he's making dinner, there's a knock on the door. He jerks, head turning to the door. He never has visitors. He doesn't like company. He likes to be alone.
Another knock, more frantic this time. Alastor sighs, picking up his cleaver. He takes his time, heading over to the door. The eyehole doesn't show anything. They must be short. Or hiding.
He sighs, unlocking the door.
"It is late, you know, and I-"
He paused. Sitting on the steps of his small porch is a young man. Thin, pale, with a crop of bright blond hair. His long arms hug himself as he sits faced away from Alastor. He's shivering, and Alastor can see that he's not dressed for the chill of the night. A soft, almost inaudible sob racks the poor soul's body.
Alastor feels a tug at his heart.
"Can I help you?" he asks, setting the cleaver down on the table by the door.
The pale figure turns. His eyes are red from crying, and he has a busted lip. His throat is marred by an unsightly dark bruise. He's hardly a man. Maybe a late teenager.
"I.. I didn't know where else to go." he sniffled.
Alastor sighed.
"Come inside. I have ointment for your lip." he turned on his heel, headed for the first aid kit in the kitchen.
Behind him, he hears the boy get up, the railing to his steps creaking and the boy whimpering. Alastor pulls the kit out, focusing his attention on finding medicine. When he turns around, the boy is standing in the middle of the kitchen, arms still wrapped around himself, looking awkward. In the better light, Alastor can see a cut above the boy's brow.
"Well don't just stand there. Have a seat." he waved a hand to his small table.
According to his late mother, his father built it long before they knew Alastor was going to exist. Alastor never knew his father, though he doesn't much care, either. Apparently he wasn't the best husband, let alone father.
The boy lowers himself into a chair. He looks nervous, his pale eyes shifting towards the window above the sink. Alastor takes a glance himself and sighs.
"There isn't anything out there, my good man. Nothing but the trees."
The boy looks up at him. His eyes are still red, but he's stopped crying. Alastor pulls out the second chair and turns it towards him, taking a seat.
"Now, lean forward."
The boy does as told, sniffling softly.
Alastor takes his time, dabbing ointment on his lip, the cut on his brow, and any other place he sees.
"So, what were you doing out here on your own? The woods are no place for anyone at this time of night. Surely you've heard the stories?"
The boy blinked.
"Stories?"
Alastor can feel the corners of his lips twitch.
"Yes, about the Shadow."
"The what?" the boy blinked again.
Alastor sat back, his dark eyes roaming down to the boy's pale neck, where the dark bruising is. Up closer, Alastor can see the boy has freckles, Angel Kisses, his mother used to call them, dotting his pale skin here and there.
"The Shadow." Alastor repeats. "It stalks these woods, looking for prey to feed on."
"I thought ya said there wasn't anythin' out there." he tensed.
Alastor meets his eyes.
"There isn't. Not now, anyway. It isn't prime hunting time."
The boy frowned, confused. Alastor stands.
"Wait here. I'll grab an icepack." he heads for the icebox.
"Do you, uh, live here alone?" the boy asks.
His accent isn't from around here. It isn't Bayou. Further north, perhaps.
"I do." Alastor answers.
"Kinda lonely, dontcha think?"
Alastor hums, shutting the icebox door.
"Not at all. I like my privacy."
He turns.
The boy has relaxed a little bit, his hands resting on his knees. Every time he takes a breath, his chest rises and Alastor can see an outline.
He shakes his head, walking back over.
"For your throat." he holds the pack out.
The boy slowly takes it.
"Thanks."
Alastor turns away.
"You still haven't mentioned why you're out here alone, cher."
The boy sucks in air through his teeth.
"It's a long story."
"I have time." Alastor states, glancing back.
The boy has the ice pack over his throat.
"I'll give ya the short version." he sighs. "I'm on a trip with some family. Shit went down, and I got jumped."
Alastor narrows his eyes.
"Is that right?"
The boy averts his eyes.
"Well, your business is your own. Don't let me pry." Alastor shakes his head. "What's your name, anyhow?"
"Ann- Anthony."
Alastor paused.
"Well, Anthony, it's quite the pleasure to meet you. Call me Alastor."
He brings the boy a cup of tea, setting down on the table in front of him. The boy reaches forward, and winces.
"It wasn't just a run of the mill scuffle, was it?" Alastor asked.
Anthony took a slow, deep breath.
"No." he said, his voice sounding pained.
"Lift your shirt. Let me see the damage."
Anthony hesitated.
"Come, now, it'll only get worse the longer you leave it."
Slowly, Anthony curled his fingers under his shirt and carefully, wincing, pulled it up, just under his chest.
Alastor catches a glimpse of flesh colored bandage around Anthony's upper torso. He hummed softly, turning his attention to the large bruise covering his left side.
"Were you kicked?" Alastor glances up at him.
Anthony has tears in his eyes. He nods.
"How many times?"
He shakes his head.
Alastor hummed. Without that information, it would be difficult to calculate how much damage there is. It could be a broken rib.
Alastor looked up at him.
"Were there any weapons involved in this?"
Anthony shakes his head.
"No, I don't think so."
Alastor hummed, sitting back.
"I see. Well, I'm no doctor, but you should really see one."
"No!" Anthony grabs onto him.
Alastor raised a brow. He slowly let's go of Alastor.
"I'm sorry. I, uh... I can't."
"And why not?"
Anthony hesitates again.
"They'll ask questions."
"As they should."
Anthony nods.
"But they'll ask for my parents, or what happened to me."
"That's what they do, yes."
Anthony shakes his head.
"I can't let them know. You don't have a clue what they'd do if they found out I said somethin'."
Alastor sighed.
"Very well. I will help you."
"You will?"
He nods.
"I have a favor to cash in."
Alastor stood.
"Stay here and drink your tea. With your other hand."
Alastor left him, headed to his room.

"Hello?" the voice is tired, rough.
"Doctor, a pleasure."
He groaned.
"What the hell do you want? You know what time it is?"
"Yes, I do. You said to call at any time for any reason. I have a favor to cash in, doctor."
He sighed heavily.
"Fine."
"I'll come over now."
"Sure."
He hangs up.
Alastor smiled.
Perfect. He grabs his coat. It isn't for him. It's for the kid.
Back in the kitchen, he drapes the coat over him. Anthony flinches, and looks up.
"We're leaving."
His eyes widen.
"Where are we goin'?"
"To see the doctor, of course." Alastor smiled wider.

Anthony follows Alastor up to the door. Alastor hums, hands clasped behind his back, waiting. The door opens, and the doctor takes up the opening, light flooding out from behind him.
"Doctor."
"Alastor." his voice is low and gruff from years of alcohol abuse.
Alastor's eyes shift to the movement behind the doctor. A slender, young blonde woman is standing nearby, dressed only in a large tee shirt, hanging off her shoulder and shorts that barely show beneath the hem of the shirt. She crosses her arms over her chest.
"What did you do this time?" the doctor asks.
Alastor refocuses on him.
"I've done nothing."
The porch creaks behind him. Anthony stepped closer.
The doctor bares his teeth.
"Who the fuck is this?"
Alastor smiled.
"This, my old friend, is the reason for our late visit. My medical expertise isn't the best for his situation."
The doctor sighs heavily, stepping aside.
Alastor stepped inside, Anthony following behind him.
"Have a seat." the door shuts behind them.
The living room of the house is littered with books and papers, old dishes, half full ash trays, and empty bottles of whiskey. The scent of smoke, sweat and mold is strong.
Alastor turned his head to Anthony.
"Go on. Have a seat."
The young man nods, making his way to one of the couches. The young woman is sitting across from him, on the other couch, her dark eyes watching Alastor.
He smiled. She isn't of concern.
The doctor comes back with his bag. He waved a hand to the couch for Alastor to sit. He perches on the edge of the table himself.
"Show me why you're here."
Alastor took his place beside Anthony.
"Uh... Al? Help?" Anthony looked up at him.
Alastor sighed.
"Very well."
He helped Anthony remove the jacket and the shirt he's wearing.
It's as Alastor was suspecting. Bandage is wrapped around the young man's chest. He's a girl?
The woman across from them gasps softly.
The doctor's eyes narrowed.
Interesting.
"That's a nasty bruise." the doctor says.
Anthony has tears in his eyes.
"I know."
The doctor hummed, grabbing out his stethoscope.
"I'm sorry, but you'll need to remove your bandages as well."
Anthony hesitated. His body is extremely tense.
"Anthony." Alastor frowned. "Do as he says."
He bit his lip.
"I'll help him." the woman got up.
The doctor met Alastor's eyes.
"Come with me. Sherry can take care of the kid."
Alastor stood.
"Very well."
He followed the doctor to another room.
"What is it?" he asked.
The doctor turned to him.
"That kid is in bad shape. I can tell without machinery."
Alastor tilted his head.
"Bruises, cigarette burns, probably some broken bones. Many probably never healed properly. That kid is a mafioso."
"What difference does that make?" Alastor asked.
The doctor narrowed his eyes.
"I told you once that I wouldn't work with these types anymore, Alastor."
"You get him taken care of, and I'll be out of your hair. That's all I ask."
The doctor sighed.
"Fine. I'll take care of that kid, but that's it. Our favors are repaid. Then you get the fuck out of here."
He pushed past Alastor, headed back to the living room.
Alastor hummed.
Who cares what the kid is or what he's called? The only reason he's helping is to get something from him.
That's the only reason for any of his favors, to receive and cash a favor later.
"You can cover yourself up. I'm done here."
The doctor stands, turning to Alastor.
"Kid'll be fine. The two of you should stay here tonight."
Alastor smiled.
"We'll be out of here tomorrow."
That night, when the other three are asleep, Alastor takes his place in the living room. It's been some time. Maybe a few hours. There's a soft noise.
Alastor looks up.
"What are you doing up?"
Anthony smiled a little.
"You're up too, Al."
"I don't sleep unless I'm home." Alastor hummed.
Anthony nodded, slipping into the couch across from him. He holds his legs to his chest.
"Thanks for helping me."
Alastor tilted his head.
"I only cashed in a favor. That's all."

Anthony stayed with Alastor. Just for a short time, while his wounds healed. He told Alastor it was so his family would have time to cool off. They don't mean to kill him. At least that's what Anthony tells himself. Alastor can see through him. 

He doesn't tell Alastor anything about himself. Just enough to slip passed, he says. It won't matter in the end. They're going back up to New York in the next couple weeks. 

They were only here for a job. 

Just a job.

Chapter Text

Alastor frowned, looking up from the now cold tea cup in front of him. He swears he heard a voice just under his radio static. No, he thinks, that's not possible. Nothing is there.
It's just him. Anthony is gone, back to New York, he assumes. His mother is long since passed, so she won't be coming home.
Alastor turns his eyes back to his radio. Satic sounds through the small device. He leans over and switches it off. The Shadow must have finished while he was lost in thought. Shame. He missed it.
Alastor sighed, pushing from the table. It's his own fault, he supposed. He's the one who got caught up in his thoughts while his favorite broadcast was playing. Perhaps a walk will clear his mind.

"Shhh." Alastor whispered, his gloved fingertips brushing across the skin of his latest catch.
Dark eyes widen, staring up at him. Fear, Alastor's favorite expression.
"Don't worry. I'll make this quick." his smile widened.
The victim wiggled.
"Now, now. I'm sure you have a lot of questions. Unfortunately, you won't be getting any answers."
A twig snaps behind him. Alastor paused. There shouldn't be anyone out here. He moved his eyes from the man below him, scanning across the dark trees and bushes. Nothing there. Or there. Or- oh. It's a deer. A buck. Interesting.
Now is not the time. Alastor has business to attend. He turns back to the man.
"I'm looking for a bit of entertainment. Why don't you be a good little egg and get a wiggle on. A chase would be very entertaining."
Alastor smiled devilishly, stepping away from the man. When he didn't move, he offered a hand.
"Now, now, you don't want to see me bored."
The man takes his hand, his pupils small in the dim light of the moon. Alastor pulled him to his feet.
"I'll give you a head start. Off you go, sap. I know this will be quite swell."
The man took off.
Alastor hummed, walking after him. He knows these woods well. Very well.
"You'll be pushing up daisies where the sun don't shine, my friend." Alastor called, a cackle rising in his throat.
He loves the chase. It gives him something to take his mind off the usual day to day. No reason to think about the dewdroppers at the station when he has his mind on the next catch.
The chase.

Alastor opened his eyes, looking up at the night sky. Just beyond the canopy above him, grey clouds start to roll in. Where is he?
He sits up slowly, taking in his surroundings. His victim lies only a few feet away. Deceased.
When did he do that? He isn't sure.
Alastor frowned.
Had he blacked out again? It's been happening infrequently for the last, well, who knows how long.
No matter. Alastor has better things to do. Taking out the garbage for starters.
He doesn't know how long he left his prey there. He doesn't know how long he was sleeping. Was he sleeping?
It's hard to say. He felt conscious, but on the other hand, Alastor was not aware of his surroundings for the duration of this unconscious break.
They call him the Crimson Shadow. Not that anyone knows it's him, of course.
They talk about the murders frequently enough that Alastor was able to pick up on notes here and there. He was even able to give his two cents and offer a little bit.
The name, in fact, was mostly his idea. Red is his favorite color after all.
Alastor sighed, wiping the back of his hand against his forehead. It has been a long night. Perhaps it's time for him to go home. His work is finished, now it is time to rest.

"Shame I had to waste him." Alastor sighed aloud.
He catches a glimpse of himself in the mirror, admires the glint of gold in his eyes. He gets it from his mother. Her eyes were a beautiful golden hazel. He remembers like it was yesterday. The way her eyes glittered in the light of a summer sun. He smiled a little. She's long since passed, but it feels as though she's still watching over Alastor, even today.
Alastor sighs, catching sight of an abrasion along his cheek. He must have gotten it from the victim. What a shame. Now he'll need to come up with a clever evasion for his coworkers tomorrow.
For now, Alastor thinks to himself, I must finish cleaning myself up, and go to bed. It is late.
Alastor dreams of red smoke, flashing lights. The smell of alcohol and something sweet like spun sugar.
He sees something in the smoke. A flash of white, a hint of pink.

"Alastor. You're running out of time."
A strong voice cuts through the flashes of light.
A familiar voice. One he can't quite remember.
There's a flash of red. Sharp claws push him back.
"You're running out of time. Get moving."
That familiar voice.
The claws dig into his chest, scraping his skin.
Alastor's eyes open.
His chest stings. Phantom pain, he hoped. That is, until he looks down.
His sleep shirt is sliced open, abrasions marring his skin.
He shakes his head.
No way that was real. Right?

'... Where a body has been found...'
Alastor's ears perk at the mention of a body. He's usually careful with his hunts. No one has ever found them before, on account of there being almost nothing to find. He meticulously plans his hunts. He picks out the best place to dispose of what remains. He's done this for a long time at this point.
He narrowed his eyes, thinking back to the night prior. His black out. Perhaps that has something to do with the body they found. Then again, perhaps it's someone else. Someone else hunting in his bayou.
Alastor reached over and cranked the knob, turning the radio up.
'... The corpse of a young man, thought to be the son of an estate owner here in New Orleans.'
He listens closely, wracking his brain for a memory of who he was hunting. Usually Alastor couldn't care less who it is. This time is not a usual moment. He needs to remember who it is.
'... Wearing no jewelry, other than a silver ring on his left hand. If anyone has any information, please...'
That's it.
Alastor closes his eyes, thinking back to that night. He remembers a glint of something, flashing in the pale moonlight. A ring, perhaps? He was half-hazzard in disposing of the remains. His appetite lost with the black out. He prefers to see what he's doing, and be in control of how it happens.
This one not one of those times, it seems. All the same, Alastor cannot remember if the prey had a ring or not. Still, he tells himself, best leave the area for a while. To be safe.
Go North.
New York, perhaps?

Chapter Text

New York City

POV Anthony
My heels clicked against the floor as I stumbled to catch myself. My father's hand released my arm, but I can still feel the sting.
"You dewdroppin' gowed up twist. What the hell kinda games you think you're playin'? You think I'm a patsy? Don't think I didn't see ya talkin' to that snooper?"
He's so close, I can smell the alcohol on his breath. It's hot and humid, and mixed with cigar smoke. I choke back a gag.
"I'm not gowed up." I say.
He narrows his eyes.
"Bullshit." his voice is gravelly and low.
"I'm not, Pa. I swear!"
Outside the office, I can hear indistinct conversation coming and going. No one comes to the door. They know better than to bother my father in his office. No matter what.
"You wanna dress up like a palooka, you'll get chin music like one."
I can't help but flinch when he pulls his beefy fist back.
"Pa!"
It's my sister.
He pauses. I bite my lip, hard.
My father sighs heavily, turning away. I hear the door creak open.
"What is it, princess?"
He always preferred her over me. He never wanted girls, but Molly caught his heart.
"Can I grab Anna? We need to get ready for our act."
Ma loved all of us equally. Me, Molly, and our older brother, Nico. She had no bias.
She ain't here any longer.
"Yea. Keep an eye on her." my father leaves, patting my sister's shoulder as he goes.
Molly, and Ma, were the only ones who ever accepted me for who I really am.
I'm not Anna.
I'm Anthony.
Molly trots over to me.
"You, sir, are a jam." she winked.
I smile a little.
"I know. Thanks, Molls." I hug her tightly.
She giggled softly, rubbing my back.
"C'mon, An. We gotta get our glad rags."
I follow her out of the office, keeping an eye out for Pa and Nico. Pa wasn't wrong. I was talking to a snooper. But I wasn't saying anything I shouldn't have. I'm not that easy.
Molly hums a little tune as she guides me backstage. She and I have a double act. We're canaries for the joint, taking after our late mother. She used to be such a fantastic singer.
We both miss her.
Pa and Nico don't like talking about her. I find myself constantly wondering what happened to her. How she passed. She shouldn't have gone yet.
"An?"
I blink. Molly is looking at me.
"Yea?"
"You okay? You've been spacin'."
I nod.
"Yea. Just thinkin' 'bout Ma."
Molly's pale eyes glitter.
"Oh. Yea. Me too." she gently blots her eyes with a tissue.
I sigh.
"Sorry for bringin' it up."
She shakes her head, blonde hair swishing.
"Don't apologize, An. Her birthday is soon. What do you say we go an' see her?"
I smile.
"I'd like that, sis."
Molly and I are twins. Ma was over the moon when she found out she was having a girl, albeit surprised to discover two.
"You're simply berries, Molls."
She giggled, offering a hand.
I take it, and we head to the stage.

Just my luck.
Pa's sore again, and this time, Molly isn't around to help me out. He spits insults at me like he's trying to give me the third. He's absolutely over the edge with rams this time. At least he isn't using fists. Open palm still hurts, but thankfully, not quite as bad.
Then he says something that pushes me over.
He said my Ma was a weak sister. A bluenose, and a wrong number.
"Close your head!"
I should not have said that.
His dark eyes focus on me, narrowed. He's even more sore than before.
"What did you say to me, girlie?"
I bite my lip, turn on my heel, and give her the gate.
"Anna!"
His voice booms behind me. I don't listen. Just keep going, passed the patrons, passed my brother, my sister, the doorman. Out on the street, I take a second to catch my breath and look around. Need to hide.

Chapter Text

POV Alastor
It's a beautiful city, but it's much bigger than I previously expected. Not my cup of tea, I have to say. I prefer the quiet peace of my home in the bayou. This is only temporary, I tell myself. Just to let the buzz die down. Then I'll return.

"Anna couldn't have gone far."
A voice. Low and masculine.
"It's Anthony, Nico."
Another. This one female.
"You and Ma may have accepted that flimflam, but I haven't. Pops hasn't. I don't care what you wanna call it. Giggle juice, dope, behind the eight ball, but you both need to stop this, savvy? Don't be a bunny, Molly. The sooner you two stop with this, the sooner Pops calms down."
At the end of his rant, his voice gets a little more quiet. I can almost not hear him speak.
I'm not trying to eavesdrop, but it's hard not to when their conversation is loud.
There's footsteps nearby, and someone dressed in all black passes me, shoulder hitting mine.
"Watch it."
It's the same voice. He keeps walking.
Another set of footsteps comes towards me. This one is a young woman. She's wearing ice around her neck.
"Oh. I'm sorry, sir." she looks up at me.
I smile.
"It's no worry, my dear. Where are you off to in such a hurry?" I ask.
She sucks in her bottom lip.
"We're looking for our... Sister."
She doesn't seem too sure about that.
"Is that right? I'm sorry to hear that, cher."
"Molly."
The young woman's eyes peer around me.
"I'm sorry, sir, I have to go. We need to find... Her."
"Is there anything I can help with?" I ask.
She blinked. Her eyes are a familiar shade of blue.
"Not that I can think of. Oh. Here." she takes my hand.
Pushed into my palm is a small piece of cardstock.
"What is this?" I ask.
"Come glom at the joint. Knock four times."
She steps around me.
I turn to watch them go. Quite the odd pair. Polar opposites. Her, blonde, dressed in light colors, him, dark hair and dark colors.
I take a look at the cardstock. It's black with a silver spiderweb.
Tana del Ragno.
Hm.
I have no idea what that means. There's an address as well. That will be useful for later.

The juice joint is deeper in the city than I had expected. It's something other than a dive. I hum softly. That doll told me to knock four times. There's a door at the end of a small set of stairs.
One. Two. Three. Four.
The eyehole slides open, and a pair of eyes peer at me.
"The fuck do you want?"
I tilted my head.
"I'm here to visit a friend."
"Who?"
I hum.
"A dame called Molly." I tell him.
He narrows his eyes.
The eyehole slams shut. I wait. A lock clicks, and the door opens.
"Get a wiggle on." the doorman huffs.
I step inside.
"Many thanks, my good man."
He grumbles under his breath, shutting the door and clicking the lock.
Inside, the air is smoky and heavy with music. There's a bar on the lefthand side of the room, booths and tables on the right. Patrons fill almost every table. In the far back, there's a stage. The girl from earlier is dressed in a shimmery red number, singing alongside someone vaguely familiar.
I make my way over to the bar and slide onto an empty seat. While the tender is busy, I keep my eyes trained on the canaries up on stage. They look alike. Almost exact.
"You ain't here to drop a dime, are ya, stranger?"
I turn to the man behind the gin mill.
"Not at all. Just visiting a friend."
He snorts. Quite the unpleasant sound.
"I've seen my share of ringers 'round here. You ain't one. Buy you a drink?" he keeps an eye on me.
"Whiskey, neat, if you don't mind." I smile.
He turns away.
"What makes you think I'm not a ringer?" I ask him.
"You're not from 'round here." he sets a glass in front of me.
"Quite right. I am only visiting."
"Your business is your own. Word of advice: keep your head down and your yap shut, else you'll get zotzed. Ya follow?"
I smile.
"Crystal clear."
My eyes turn back to the stage as a new song begins. The two dames are back on stage. This time, they're dressed up in sparkly black flapper rags.
"I wouldn't watch the twins too closely." the bartender tells me.
"Why is that?"
"Their pops is the big shot 'round here."
I shake my head.
"Not to worry. I'm only watching the performance."

After the song had ended, I turned back to my drink. Until I hear heels clicking over to me.
"You came!"
It's the girl from before. Molly.
"I did." I smile over at her.
She climbs onto the chair beside me.
"I nevah got your name."
"Alastor, my dear. And you are Molly, correct?"
She smiled.
"Yea, that's right."'
"Am I right to assume you found your sister?" I ask.
She nods.
"Thankfully, yes." then she leans in. "If anyone asks, you helped find her."
I nod.
"Very well."
She smiled.
"This drink is on me."
"Whatever for?" I ask.
"As for thanks. For findin' my sista." she tilted her head quickly to the side, gesturing at the bartender.
I nod, smiling.
"Of course. It's the least I could do."
She smiles.
"I should get back. Are you stayin' a bit?"
I nod.
"Yes. Go on, don't let me keep you."
Molly slides off the chair and heads towards the back, blonde hair bouncing as she goes.
I take a sip of whiskey, hearing a pair of heels hurry up to me.
"What the fuck are ya doin' here, Al?"
I smile.
"Hello to you, too."
"Don't play that shit with me." he hissed.
I turn to him.
"You're quite the looker."
His cheeks flush.
"Don' try an' feed me a line. Why are ya here?"
"I'm just visiting, cher. A jam occured down in New Orleans, so I decided to leave for a little while."
"An' ya had ta come here?"
I smile.
"And why not?"
He glanced around, his eyes showing a hint of fear.
"Come ov'a here." he grasped my arm with one hand, the other pointing to the other side of the joint.
I slip off my stool, following him to an empty booth. He slides in across from me.
"Ya shouldn't be here, Al." he tells me.
"And why not?" I ask again.
Anthony sighs softly, pulling a cigarette case from the breast of his dress. I wait patiently while he lights one up and takes a long drag.
"My Pa is a grifter. A big shot 'round here."
"I'm not worried, cher."
"Ya should be." he eyes me carefully. "I'm serious, Al. He ain't someone ya should mess with."
I shake my head.
"I'm not from around here, Anthony. There's no reason he should target me."
"That's all the more reason!" he sighed, taking another drag.
His eyes shift behind me and widen. He sinks in the booth.
"Anna."
A deep voice growls from behind me.
"H-hey, Pa." Anthony sounds nervous.
"What have I told you about smokin'?"
He opens his mouth to speak. I interupt, turning to get a look at him.
"They're mine, sir."
Anthony's father is a stout, older man with a dark crop of hair and an alderman. I spot a familiar man just behind him.
Dark eyes rake over me, then move over to Anthony and back.
"Who the fuck are you?"
"Just an acquaintance of Molly's." I smile. "Call me Alastor, sir. And you must be her father, correct?"
His eyes narrow, and instead of answering me, he turns to Anthony again.
"Finish that up and hurry back. 'An I'm takin' this."
A large hand slams on the cigarette case and he slowly drags it towards himself.
"By all means, sir. I prefer my own anyhow." I smile.
His eyes glare at me a moment longer before he huffs off, the young man following, hot on his heels.
I turn to Anthony.
He sighs in relief, leaning back against the cushion.
"Honestly," I say. "I've had encounters with worse."
His eyes stare at me.
"What? Are ya crazy?"
I lean forward.
"We're all a little mad, Anthony. Have you forgotten, I live in the bayou."
He shakes his head.
"No, I haven't forgotten. Let's... go outside."
He slides from the booth, cigarette still in hand. I wait for him to get up before I follow.
The air has gotten cooler outside, and the previously colorful sky has turned dark.
Anthony leans against the wall.
"Take it on the heel and toe, Al." he says. "Ya shouldn't have come here."
"I told you, Anthony. I'm not worried." I smile.
Anthony frowned. I don't like that look on him.
Pushing off the wall, he steps towards me and takes my hand.
"Alastor, please, just go." he pleads.
His eyes shimmer.
I nod.
"Very well."
I squeeze his hand gently, giving him a twirl. His cheeks flush.
"Smile, my dear. You know you're never fully dressed without one."
He blinks, then offers me a small smile.
"Much better." I smile back at him. "You truly do look swell."
"Thanks, Al."
Once he goes inside, I start my journey home.
No surprise, I'm being tailed.

"We got a few words for ya."
I recognize this voice. I turn to face him. Now that I've seen the rest of the family, I can see where he gets his looks.
He resembles his father, unlike his siblings.
"Is that so?"
My vision starts to blur. It seems I'm behind the eight ball.
There's pressure in my head, on either side.

I open my eyes, breathing heavy. I'm on my knees, surrounded by those men. They're all unconscious, for the most part. All, aside from the main man.
"What... What the fuck are you?" he rasps.
He looks worse for wear. His nose drips crimson, and he's holding his side. One of his eyes is swollen shut.
"I... Am the big one." I say.
My voice is hoarse.
"I go by the moniker Crimson Shadow."
His good eye widens.
"I heard of ya. O-on the wire."
"I'm sure." I climb to my feet.
"H-hey! Wait!" he reached out.
I narrow my eyes.
"You should join us. Pops could use your skill."
I grasp his hand, leaning down to his face.
"I am not interested in working for the Mafia."
Without another word, and before he can speak, I jerk his finger back.
He screams, crumpling to the pavement.
I leave him there, back on my way home. I must make a call.

"Yea?"
The doctor's voice crackles through the phone. He sounds tired, as per usual.
"Doctor. They're getting more frequent."
There's a pause, longer than I'd like.
"What is?" he finally asks.
"The black outs." I sigh.
Another pause, this one a little shorter.
"Ah. You best come to the clinic."
"Very well, doctor. Give me time."

The doctor gives me a thorough look over. When he's finished, he steps away to make notes.
"Spill." he glances over at me.
I button up my shirt.
"As I said, I know from nothing. One moment, I'm braced by goons, the next, most of them are cooled and the main man has a goog."
He nods, taking this in.
"And uh are these wops still 'round?"
I frown.
"I find that term derogatory, doctor."
He shrugs.
"Put me wise."
I think about it for a moment.
"They are, as far as I know. I'm on the square."
He shakes his head, sighing.
"They prolly thought you were a rube. Nothin' else to it."
I shake my head this time.
"They weren't random. They were his family."
He turns to me.
"Who? The kid?"
I nod once.
"Shit, Alastor. What kinda jam have ya gotten yerself into this time? See, this is why I don't fuck with those kinds."
"I'm aware, doctor. You've told me once before."
"More than once, boy." he snapped.
I hold his steely glare.
"Lord, if ya ma knew-"
"Do not speak of my mother." I snap. "You are not my father, Rowan."

His expression softens, and he sighs.
"I know that, but he ain't ever been there. I made a promise to your ma, Alastor. She was one of'a kind."
I'm aware.
His eyes fix on me again.
"Alastor? How ya feelin'?"
I blink.
"Just swell. Why?" I ask.
"Your eyes. They're bloodshot."

Chapter Text

POV Anthony
Pa's on one of his rants again. Somethin' about me chattin' it up with a flaming youth. I sit quietly, biting my tongue. When I tried to speak up, tell him Al an' I are just acquaintances, Pa told me to shut my yap. So I did.
The last thing I need is another busted rib. The last one made it hard enough to breathe, let alone sing. Behind me, the door slams open. I jump, turning to see who it is.
Nico stands in the doorway, breathing heavily, grasping his right. His free hand hangs at his side. His left eye is swollen, black and purple. He glares at me.
"Nico. What happened?" Pa pushes from the desk, moving over to his son.
"We got jumped." Nico rasped.
"What?"
My brother holds up his hand. His middle finger is bent at an odd angle.
"It's fuckin' broke!"
Pa growls, grabbing his hand. There's a nasty crack, and Nico groans in pain. I can tell he's biting his tongue. Pa hates weakness.
"Go get patched. Anna. Go with him to the croaker."
I get up from the chair, moving over to Nico.
"Right away, Pa." I tell him, draping my arm across my brother's shoulders.
Nico gives me a dirty look, but I ignore him, pulling him out of Pa's office. The door slams shut behind us.
"Your friend is gonna get what's comin'." Nico looks up at me.
I shake my head.
"He ain't comin' back, Nico. Don't worry 'bout that now."
Slowly, I bring him to the dressing room. Molly is at her vanity. Her eyes meet mine in the mirror and she turns.
"Oh my. What happened?" she gets up, hurrying over to us.
"He got jumped." I say.
Molly frowned.
"A rival gang?" she asked.
Nico and I exchanged a look.
"Not exactly." I bite my lip.
She tilts her head.
"Then who-"
"Doesn't matter." I interupt. "We need ta get Nico to the doc."
She nods.
"Okay. Okay. I'll call up the driver."
She hurried off, heels clicking along the way.
Nico eyed me.
"Why did ya lie to her?" he asked.
"Why did you lie to Pa?" I countered.
My brother scoffed.
"I may not agree with what you're up to, An, but I ain't gonna let 'im beat'cha either."
I sigh.
"Thanks, I guess."
I turn to Molly as she clacks up.
"Okay. We're ready. Need help bringin' Nico down?" she asks.
I shake my head.
"Nah. I got 'im. He can still walk jus' fine."
Nico slowly bobs his head in agreement. He looks tired. I can't help but feel bad.
I know Pa sent him to keep an eye on Al. Something tells me Al is the reason for my brother's injuries. How, though, I'm not sure.
Nico lets me help him to the car. Our driver doesn't ask any questions. He remains quiet as he opens the door to let us in.
Probably doesn't help that he can't speak.
Far as I know, some time ago, he got into a scuffle with some made men. Kinda like Nico this time 'round.
The difference is, they made sure our driver couldn't scream.
"Thank you." I tell him.
He nods his head, turning away. I glimpse the scar across his throat, just barely above his collar.
Molly climbed in first. Then Nico, and myself. Our brother leans his head on Molly's shoulder. His good eye closes. I sigh softly.
He hasn't had a chance to clean himself up yet. There's still a smear of dried blood on his upper lip.
"You okay?" Molly asks me.
Her voice is soft.
I nod slowly.
"Yea. I'll be okay."
I hope.
I hope Alastor is okay. I hope he managed to get home safely. I hope he acknowledges my warning and heeds it as well. I don't know what I would do or feel if he were to come back. If he were to get hurt.
I couldn't live with myself if he did. It's my fault he was here. It's my fault Nico is hurt.
What if it's my fault Ma is gone?
"Anthony?"
My chest hurts. My heart beats faster and faster. I can feel my fingers in my hair, pulling hard. Ripping strands out from my scalp.
"Anthony!"
I feel a hand on my arm.
"Hey, stop that."
A soft grunt.
I drop my hands and shut my eyes tight.
"Breathe."
This isn't Molly's voice.
"Calm down, Anthony. You're safe."
Nico?
"We're here for you." he says.
I take a deep breath and let it out slowly.
"That's it. Just breathe."
His voice is hoarse, but it's comforting. His hand finds mine. I can feel the crooked joint of his finger.
"We're here, Anthony."
My chest tightens at the sound of my name on his voice. My eyes burn.
"Shit, if you're gonna cry..." he sighs.
Molly giggles softly on the other side of him.
I gently squeeze his hand.
"Thanks, Nico." I whisper.

The doc says Nico's eye should heal up in a week. His side, on the other hand, was bruised pretty bad, so that'll take about a month and a half. As for his broken finger, a few months. Especially since Pa tried to fix it himself. Nico's thankful it wasn't his shootin' hand. Doc wanted him to stay in the hospital for a while, just to be sure there's no other damage. Nico disagreed. He argued with the doc until Molly and I dragged him away. Despite bein' older than us, he's a little shorter.
"Sorry, Doc. We'll bring 'im in for a check up later!" Molly called.
"Like hell ya will!" Nico protested.
I shake my head.
"Close ya head, Nico. Ya took the fall fo' me, now let us take ya in for'a check up."
He grumbles under his breath, something I can't hear. That's fine. At least he's being quiet.
"What are you two not tellin' me?" Molly asked, soon as we were in the car.
Nico and I exchanged a glance.
"That ain't my place." he mumbled.
I sigh.
"Pa had Nico tail Al." I say.
She blinked.
"Your friend from outta town?"
I nod.
"Yea."
"Did... Did he do this?" she asked, frowning.
Nico sighed, wincing.
"I couldn't say. He got the bulge and made a clean sneak. That's the crop of it."
Molly meets my eyes over his head.
"Anthony?"
I shake my head.
"You're tootin' the wrong ringer, Molls. I know from nothin'."
She frowned.
"Okay..."
I wish I could tell her something. Anything. But I really don't know anything. I was with Pa, listening to him bump gums. He's always so sore with me. Never with Molly or Nico. Honestly, if I'm so much of a nuisance, why does he even keep me around? He's got power. He could make me disappear. Have someone take me for a ride or marry me off. Though, he did get sore with me last time he saw me chinning with a flaming youth. Hell, he called Al one.
"Anthony?"
I looked up. They're both staring at me again.
"You're mutterin' to yourself."
"Oh. Sorry.." I frowned.
Nico shakes his head.
"What's on yer mind?" he asks.
"Nothin'."
He fixes me with a hard stare.
"That's the bunk an' ya know it."
"Nico." Molly frowned.
He ignores her.
"Fine." I say. "I'm just worried. What if Pa finds out what really happened?"
He shakes his head.
"I ain't a snitch. He won't hear it from me, if he hears anythin' at all. It's all silk. Trust."
I nod.
Hopefully Nico is square.

Chapter Text

POV Alastor
Rowan Hicks has known me for my entire life. He was friends with my parents. I never asked questions. I never felt the need. It's none of my business.
"Alastor."
I look up at him.
"Huh?"
Rowan crouched down.
"Alastor, can you hear me?"
I blink slowly.
"Yes?" I mumbled softly.
"C'mon, Al. Up ya get." he grabs my arm, pulling me to my feet.
I don't know what happened, and I don't want to.
"Hey, stay with me." he cups my face.
I can't focus.
"Alastor. Look at me."
My vision is blurry.
"Damn it. Sherry. Sherry!"
"Yes..."
I grasp Rowan's shirt. I feel weak. Tired.
"Alastor!"

My face hurts. My body is sore.
"Alastor?"
I open my eyes. Rowan is sitting in a chair beside me.
"How ya feel?" he asks.
"I feel like I hit the deck." I mumbled.
He cracks a smile.
"You did. Sorry I didn't catch ya."
I rub my face.
"Dr Hicks?"
Sherry peeks in.
"Yea, come in." Rowan turns.
Her dark eyes shift from me to Rowan.
"Sir, you got a call."
He frowned.
"From who?"
"He didn't say."
Rowan sighs, rubbing a hand through his hair.
"Alright. Stay with Alastor." he gets up from the chair.
Sherry takes his place, her dark eyes watching him head into the other room.
"They didn't say?" I ask.
She turns to me.
"No. He only asked for Dr Hicks. He said somethin' about a deal?" she frowned, her brow creasing.
"A deal?" I repeat.
She nods.
"He had a very gruff voice. It was almost hard to understand what he was sayin'. He... Called me 'sweetheart'." she wrinkled her nose.
I hum. I'm too tired to rack my brain.
"No, you can't."
Sherry turns to the door, frowning.
"Sir, please."
Rowan sounds upset. I catch a glimpse of him in the other room, just before the door shuts. Sherry gets up.
"You should leave him to his call." I mumbled.
She moved over to the door, ignoring me. She's eavesdropping. She shouldn't. I shouldn't, and yet, I join her at the door.
She looks over at me, frowning.
"Take some of my time then, sir." Rowan says.
I furrow my brow. What is he talking about? Who is he talking to?
"Yes, sir. I'm sure. I know what the deal was, but... He's not ready. I'm not ready to let 'im go."
There's a pause as Rowan listens to the other line speak.
"Thank you, sir. I really appreciate this. He's like a son to me. You promise he'll be alright?"
Another pause. Is he talking about me?
Sherry rests a hand on my shoulder. I think she made it to the same assumption.
"What do you mean you can't promise that? What the fuck did I make a deal for then?"
He slams the receiver down. Sherry pulls me back to the bed. From the other room, I hear Rowan shout, Irish, I think, then a loud crack.
Sherry winced, eyes on the door.
I frown.
Rowan steps back inside. Sherry stands.
"Everythin'-" she gets quiet quick.
Rowan's hand is bloody.
"I'm fine."
He won't meet my eyes. Instead, he puts his focus on wrapping his hand up.
"Did ya put your hand through the drywall?" Sherry puts her hands on her hips.
"I'll get it fixed." he mumbles in response.
"What deal did you make? And with who?" Sherry asks softly, taking over bandaging him up.
He gives her a hard stare.
"You were listenin'?"
She meets his eyes with a stare of her own, tugging the bandage. He winced, groaning softly.
"You were loud. Spill."
He sighs, resigning to her glare.
"I can't tell ya. I physically can't tell ya."
"What does that mean?"
I frown.
"If I try to say his name, or what the deal was, my throat closes."
Sherry sighs, shaking her head.
"Very well then."

I don't know what Rowan's conversation was about, but something tells me it had something to do with my lethargy and black outs. I felt much better the next day. Sherry waved it off as me needing rest. Rowan had no answer himself.
He only sent me back home. There's nothing more he can do for me after all.
He gave me strict rules to rest. Do not overdo anything. Relax.
He knows I can't do that.
I have work to do.

"Alastor! Good to see ya again."
I smile.
"Good to see you as well."
It has been a long while since I came to the radio station. Technically speaking, I don't work here. I volunteer when I have time.
"Where ya been? Ya haven't come ta see us in a while."
I nod.
"Yes, I know. I've... Been busy."
He eyes me for a moment.
"Didn't ya wear glasses?"
My smile faulters for just a moment. I pull my glasses from my inner coat pocket, nodding.
"Astute as always, my good man. I still do, yes."
He smiled.
"Yea, I knew ya did, Alastor."
I slip them on.
"Who is in the booth today?" I ask.
"Jameson, I think." he answers.
I never cared to learn who's who here, but I needed an excuse to move the conversation from my appearance.
He waves me to follow him to the booth.
Jameson is on air. He waves a hand at us.
"Remember to drop a dime if ya see anything, folks. For now, let's get back to the tunes."
He clicks the microphone off and grins at us.
"Alastor!"
"Jameson." I move forward and shake his hand.
"Good to have ya back. How ya been?"
I shake my head.
"I've been better. I recently got out of the clinic."
His face screwed into confusion.
"Whatever for? You're the healthiest bird I know!"
I nod.
"It wasn't a trip for myself. I was visiting an old friend of my mother's."
"Ah. That makes more sense. Hey, would ya like to be on?"
He gestures a hand at the microphone.
I hum.
"Perhaps for a moment."
He smiled, clicking the microphone back on.
"Alright that was Demon Kitty Rag by Miss Victoria. Now, folks, we have a very special guest joining us this fine evening. Say hello to your favorite host, The Voice." he nods to me, getting up from his seat, offering it to me.
I smile, offering him a nod in return.
"Hello, listeners. It's good to be back on air. Apologies for my absence."

After my session on the microphone, I give the pilot's seat back to Jameson.
"As much as I'd like to bump gums, I'm afraid I have prior engagements elsewhere."
"Huh? What, where ya goin'?"
Jameson looks up at me as well.
"I'd tell you if I could. It's a private matter." I shake my head.
Jameson smiled, clicking off the microphone.
"Not an issue, Alastor. Don' be a stranger, Yea?"
"I wouldn't dream of it." I lied.

Chapter Text

POV ??

I shouldn't have been up there that long. I should have come back sooner. I couldn't, however. Not with the family watching my every move.

"There you are."

Here I am, indeed.

"Where have you been hiding, little imp?"

I hate it when they call me that. Yes, I'm an imp, but I have a name.

"Liraz."

I freeze, a chill running down my spine, into my tail. A sharp fingernail runs along my shoulder, down my arm, an icy grip curling around my wrist.

"I asked you a question."

I slowly raised my eyes to meet his. They glow brightly in the darkness. I hate this guy.

"Where have you been hiding?"

My ears twitch, catching movement behind me. Is there someone else here? Who?

"Leave him alone, Rhy."

My blood runs cold. Colder than it was.

My boss. My real boss. Deimos.

The icy grip releases my wrist, and honestly, I hardly notice it. Heavy footsteps make their way over to me. As my boss comes into the dim light, more details appear, from his gnarled horns to his burning red eyes.

"Liraz, welcome back. Do you have any news for me, my boy?"

I want to shrink down to nothing and disappear.

"Well?"

His voice is low. He isn't mad, yet. He will be if I don't speak up, so to say.

I nod, turning my eyes to Rhy. He's a prick, but he's a useful tool.

"Wait-"

I don't let him speak for himself. In a flash, I reach out and grasp his throat in my claws. He garbles for a second before shutting up. My hand tingles.

"Go on, Liraz." Deimos steps closer.

"The only news I can give you at this time is that the young man has indeed been spotted."

This isn't my voice. It's that of Rhy, but they are my words coming from his mouth. My master has been gracious enough to grant this useful trick. But only here, in Hell.

"Is that all?"

"One more thing, sir. I can pinpoint where he is."

A smile crawls onto his face.

"Is that so? Where?"

"Hidden. He is under the care of an Overlord's charge."

My master narrows his eyes into sharp slits.

"Who?"

"Husker, sir."

His eyes slide fully shut. His shoulders rise and fall with a long, deep breath.

"I should have guessed. That's on me for not following up sooner. Go back up top. I want more details. Anything you can find. Information on who started the contract. Do you understand?"

I release my grip on Rhy, instead opting to nod in agreement with my master's terms. I understand my next task.

My next assignment.

Tail the family.

Find Husker's charge.

"Go. Do not disappoint me, Liraz."

Master Deimos leaned in a little closer, his clawed hand brushing against my cheek. His eyes are aimed lower, staring at the pink scar across my throat. It was a previous assignment. A past accident.

Not that I believe it was an accident, of course. This previous injury sends a message. They wanted me dead.

I don't know who they were. Humans, for sure. Unfortunately, their attack on me pushed me down from made man to driver. I'm not allowed to leave Tana del Ragno.

Not alone, that is.

I sigh to myself, my room coming into my vision. Henry, my human boss gave it to me at the request of his wife, may she rest in peace. She's probably a "Winner" as the angels say. She was always a wonderful person. Good hearted. Better than any of her family, I'd say.

"Benjamin?"

I turn to see Anthony, standing in the doorway. His head is tilted a little, his expression confused.

"Is someone here with you?" he asks.

I shake my head. No, just me. Did he hear Master Deimos?

"Never mind. Maybe it's just in my head." he sighed, staring at the ground.

He slowly swings one of his legs back and forth for a moment, then he stops and looks up at me.

"Can I tell ya somethin'?"

I nod, gesturing for him to come sit on my bed. Anthony steps further into the room, passes me, and sits, sighing softly. He laces his fingers together on his lap, staring at the floor. I move over to the door, peeking out to make sure there's no one else around, and shut the door. I pull up a chair across from Anthony. Now I just need to wait to hear what he has to say.

Anthony takes a deep breath and lets it out slowly. His eyes turn up to mine.

"I think I'm hearing voices." he says.

I tilt my head. Voices?

"The other day, I thought I heard someone callin' my name. When I turned around to see, there was nothin' there."

I nod slowly. I wonder who that might be. It couldn't be Husker, could it?

"That's not all." he says.

I gesture for him to continue.

"I've been havin' bad dreams, too."

Dreams?

"It's dark, and I'm standin' in a spotlight. Unlike when I'm on the stage, I can't see anything. There's no chairs, no people. Nothin'. Then this thick, red smoke curls around my ankles, risin' higher and higher until I'm engulfed in it. Then I wake up. Every time."

His eyes meet mine. I frown. That sounds too familiar. I don't like this.

"Well, I know you can't say anythin', but I'm glad I can at least talk to ya. Thanks, Benjamin." he smiles a little at me.

I nod.

"I should probably get back." he wipes his eyes, climbing to his feet. "Thanks again for lettin' me talk."

Anthony heads out, shutting my door behind him. I wish there was more I could do for him, but I've already used up so much energy going between. I can't go back for a while. For now, I should work. Mr. Ragno wanted me to make sure the car is in good working order. I may be silent, but that doesn't mean I'm useless.

I'm working under the hood when the door to the garage bangs shut. Nico, I suspect. He's the only one who would let the door shut so hard. Other than his father, that is, but Mr. Ragno doesn't come down here. If he needs a ride anywhere, I meet him out front.

"Benjamin!"

Yes, it is Nico. I stand, peering at him around the hood. He makes his way down the steps, a slight limp making his movement slower. He still looks a little beat up, but for the most part, he's healing up well. He meets my eyes. The swelling in his eye is gone now, but his face is still showing signs of bruising. I reach over to my radio and lower the volume.

"There ya are." he says. "Ya busy?"

I glance down at the car, then back at him. I can take a break. Nico makes his way to the nearby bench. I wipe my hands off on a dirty cloth before I move over and take a seat beside him. For a few moments, neither of us make any sound. I pull out my pack of cigarettes and offer them to him. He looks up at me.

"Thanks, Benjamin." he accepts my offer.

I take one as well, and light his, then mine. We sit in silence once again, only the sounds of our cigarettes burning, and exhales. I don't push him. If he needs to talk, he'll talk when he's ready. I suspect that's why he came to find me here.

"Have you heard the news?" he asks finally.

What news?

I shake my head. Nico takes a drag, blowing the smoke through his nose.

"About how those murders slowed down." he says.

I frown. Murders? From the radio?

"It's kind of weird, ya know? When An's friend comes into town, the wire is quiet."

Anthony's friend? The young man I was asked to check on?

Nico sighs softly.

"Regardless." he says. "The wire's been quiet. I don't know if he's involved, but I don't trust that guy. Do you?" he looks up at me.

I shrug. I didn't meet the young man, but at the same time, judging by how Nico talks about him, it's hard to say whether or not the young man is good or bad. No one is perfect. Except maybe Mary Ragno. The kids' mother.

Nico hums, turning his eyes back to the concrete.

"Yer probably right, Ben." he says. "I'm probably just over thinkin' it."

I hold my cigarette between my lips, moving my hands in a sequence of my own way of speaking. Nico is the only one of the three who can understand me. I taught him when he was little, before Anthony and Molly were born. I told him it would be our little secret. Now it works even better, considering my inability to speak. Nico watches me.

"I'm not overthinkin' it?" he asks.

I shake my head.

"Thanks, Ben." he sighs. "That makes me feel a little better."

I move my hands again.

"Yeah. There's somethin' else." he says.

I wait. Nico stamps out the butt of his cigarette then stretches his back.

"Okay." he says. "So I had this dream."

Him too? I stamp out my own cigarette.

"It's dark, but I can see somethin' in the darkness. It's like balls of light, or maybe glowing eyes? Can eyes even glow? Doesn't matter. Anyway, this thing is just sitting there, watchin' me. So I stare back. I don't have anything on me if this thing comes closer. No weapons, nothin'. Then there's this voice. It asks me why I'm there. What I'm doin' there, what I want. I can't speak, though. Anytime I open my mouth to speak, nothin' comes out. It's probably for the best, considerin' I don't know where there is." Nico sighs, rubbing his palms on his pants.

I nod slowly. It's not the same dream Anthony had, but it does sound similar.

"Anyway, that's it. Thanks for listenin', Ben." Nico stands.

I wait for him to say anything else, but he says nothing. He turns away from me, headed back for the stairs. I watch him go. I should get back to work.

My radio crackles on the shelf. Turning my attention to it, I climb to my feet and walk over to turn the volume up.

"You better keep an eye out, Liraz."

The voice is Master Deimos.

"It sounds like someone or something is messing with their heads. You should check on the girl next. She may have a similar story to tell."

I nod. I'll do as I'm told. Speak to Molly next. Or rather, have her speak to me.

I don't see Molly until later. Mr. Ragno requested I keep an eye on Nico, so I've been with him for most of the day. I remember what he told me the other day, and I've asked him if he had any other dreams. He tells me he hasn't, but I can see the lack of sleep on his face. Poor boy is too stubborn to admit when he's exhausted. Or he's trying to be strong, as his father requests.

Nico stifles a yawn, one hand covering his mouth while the other pushes into the bar. His broken finger healed, but not properly. It's more crooked than the rest. His eye is much better than the other day as well. The bruises are almost gone. He scans the patrons before his eyes fall on someone in the corner. I follow his gaze, but I don't recognize the man.

"There he is." Nico says, starting over.

I follow, glancing up at the stage. It's early, so the twins aren't up there yet, but the stage is getting set up. Nico slides into the booth across from his guest. I take my place standing nearby, pretending like I'm not listening to their conversation.

"You actually showed up." Nico says.

"I should say the same." the guest responds.

"We had an agreement." Nico states. "You're late."

His guest sighs, followed by the sound of fabric against leather. I suspect he's shifting in his seat.

"I had some complications finding the place. It's not exactly easy."

Nico scoffs.

"No shit. It's almost as if it's illegal." 

I shake my head slightly, scanning the bar.

"Anyway, you should probably tell your doorman next time you're meetin' someone here."

There's silence for a moment, then more movement. Something with significant weight taps the table, and there's a click as it opens.

"I brought what you asked, by the way."

Papers shuffle, and they're slid across the table. Nico picks the papers up.

"This it?" he asks.

"Afraid so."

Nico sighs.

"So what you're saying is, I'm paying you for nothin'."

My ears perk up at this. Is Nico's guest a P.I?

"Not nothing, but not what you were looking for either." the guest says.

Silence follows again. I suspect Nico is looking over the sheets by the sound of rustling papers.

"He's mixed?" he asks.

"It appears so, sir."

Nico sighs.

"That does explain some things." he mumbles.

Another shuffle as he switches to the next page.

"Huh. Here's something. Can I take this?" he asks.

"You may copy it, sir."

"Copy? What about the rest?"

"They'll be destroyed, to cover our tracks, sir."

Nico is silent. There's another paper shuffle, and the tap of a pen. Scribbles, then the pen tap again.

"I'm going to look into this." Nico says. "Thanks for your cooperation."

He shifts. I steal a glance back. He's about to get up.

"My payment." the man says.

Nico pauses.

"You didn't give me what I asked for. Just a bunch'a nonsense."

The man frowns.

"We had an agreement, sir."

Nico sighs, digging into his pocket. I hear the click of a gun.

"Is this payment enough? Get out, and don't come back. If I find out you leaked any information, you'll be the next one in the paper."

The guest shuffles from the booth, stuffs his papers into the suitcase, and rushes passed me. Nico sighs, climbing to his feet beside me.

"Not a word, Ben."

I nod. I couldn't if I wanted to. Nico turns and heads for the door out of the bar. I follow, hoping to see Molly.

According to a passing soldato, Molly is in her dressing room, getting ready for her performance. I knock on the door.

"Come in." she calls.

I don't know if Anthony is here, but knowing him, he isn't. I step into the dressing room, and a strong scent of perfume hits me. Molly looks up from her vanity.

"Benjamin! Good to see ya. What brings ya here?" she turns in her seat to see me better.

Thankfully, I had some note cards ready to speak to her.

I wanted to ask you something.

"What is it?" she asks.

Anthony tells me you've been having restless sleep. Is that true?

Molly sighed softly, averting her eyes to her hands.

"Yes, it's true." she says.

Would you like to talk about it? I'm all ears.

Molly looks up at me.

"You'd be okay with that?"

I nod.

Of course I would.

Molly nods, gesturing to a free chair. I pull it over.

"Where do I start?" she asks.

I assume she's talking mostly to herself.

"Oh. Okay, so last night, I had a weird dream. There was this bright light. I couldn't see anything, but then there was this beautiful voice. It sounded so angelic." she sighs, smiling.

I frown. Angelic could be an issue.

"Oh, right. So, the voice was telling me that I could see Ma again. I just needed to believe. Before I could say anything, though, the bright light split, and there was darkness behind me. Another voice told me I could stay with Anthony. I didn't know what it meant, but the voices were getting louder. More voices joined them, so many that I couldn't hear myself think. I had to scream in my dream to wake myself up. That's it, really."

I nod.

"It feels good to be able to talk to someone about that." she sighs. "It's been in my head all day. I couldn't get much more sleep after that, but apparently Anthony couldn't get a whole lot of sleep either, so we stayed up and talked."

I nod again.

Molly looks up at me.

"Thank you, Benjamin. You're a real friend." she says.

I smile a little. If only she knew. One last note card.

I'll let you get back to getting ready. See you out there.

Chapter Text

A few weeks ago:

"Molls, hurry up, it's on!" I call.

My twin hurries over, flopping into bed beside me.

This is our favorite station on the wave. Every so often, they'll have a special, sultry-voiced guest speaker. He's always been anonymous. No one but the station knows who he is, though I'm not sure if that's even the case. Maybe they don't even know his name.

"In the time I've been away, I heard there's been some... Trouble, let's say. I'm sure you'd all like me to say it was nothing, but alas, I cannot lie to you. The word is true. There have indeed been murders. Unfortunately, we do not have much to go on. Whomever this person, or people, might be, they've been quiet."

I exchange a glance with Molly. There's been word that this killer hasn't gotten anyone else, but at the same time, it's hard to say whether or not murders up this way are by the same person, or connected to our Pa in some way. Word on the wire is that this person is called The Crimson Shadow.

"Be wary, dear listeners. The Crimson Shadow coats this town."

A chill runs down my spine. How he manages to lower his voice like that, I'll never know.

Now:

My mind is still on that station Molly and I listen to. That voice on the wire. Mixed in, my thoughts run back to what I told Benjamin. About the voice I've been hearing recently. The dreams that keep me from a restful sleep. I've tried to remember both voices at the same time, to see if they match. It doesn't sound like it, but maybe I'm thinking too hard about it. Maybe my brain is just using that voice off the wire to play games with my dreams.

I sigh to myself, leaning on the wall out back of the bar. Turning my eyes to the dark sky, to the stars speckled throughout the silky black, I think about my mother.

"Ma, if you can hear me, please. Help me."

Talking to yourself?

I flinch and stand quickly, looking around. No one is back here. It's just me, but that voice. I feel like I should know it, somehow.

"Who's there?" I demand.

There's no response. I wait for a few more minutes, straining my ears to hear it again. To hear anything. Behind me, the door creaks open.

"Anna. Five minutes."

I sigh, looking over my shoulder. One of Pa's guys is standing in the opening to the bar. I don't remember his name, but he's one of the few who doesn't mess with me. He's younger. Newer.

"I'm comin'. Give me one more minute." I tell him.

His brow furrows, his lips curving down.

"One more minute. Boss'll have my head if you don't hurry."

I roll my eyes, biting back a scoff. Pa will have my head if I don't hurry. Not his. The young man doesn't move. He remains standing between me and the bar, waiting. Inside, I can hear chatter of patrons, music playing, and the clinking of glasses. Sighing, and tossing another glance up to the vast sky, I finally turn to head in.

Break a leg.

A chill runs up my spine, stopping me briefly in my tracks. The young man raises a brow at me.

"Anna?" he asks.

I blink and shake my head, focusing back on him.

"I'm fine. I'm comin'."

Molly is waiting for me in our dressing room. She's turned to the mirror of her vanity, applying lipstick. When I step inside, she pauses, her eyes on me in the mirror.

"There you are." she says.

I suspect she wants to say more, but she leaves the question hanging in the air.

"I just needed some air." I answer, sliding into my vanity chair.

A soft clatter comes from Molly's vanity, and she's shifting to look at me.

"What's wrong?" she asks.

I keep my eyes on my own mirror, focusing my efforts on applying my own makeup. The last thing I want is to talk about what I heard. She's my twin, the closest person to me I have, but I can't tell her what I've been dreaming about. She has enough on her plate without getting my problems as well.

"An?" she tries again.

I finally focus on her in the mirror.

"I'm fine, Molls."

Her lips pout. She knows I'm lying, but instead of saying anything, she turns back to her own vanity. Unlike our older brother, Molly knows when to stop prodding. The two of us slip into silence, applying makeup for our performance. According to Nico, Pa has a perspective new guest coming by tonight, so it's our job to provide the perfect entertainment. We cannot mess up. One misstep, one stumbled line, could be bad for Pa. Bad for his meeting.

I'm tired. My body feels weak.

"Anthony."

Molly is beside me. I look up at her.

"We need to go on." she says.

I scramble to my feet.

"Right. Sorry. I'm ready."

Molly offers me a small smile, her fingers lacing with mine. I let her pull me through the dressing room door, up a short set of stairs, and onto the stage. Her hand leaves mine as she heads to the far side of the stage to her microphone. I take my place at my own. Looking out into the crowd, I can see Pa sitting at a table in the corner, an unfamiliar face sitting with him. Nico is standing nearby. His eyes are on Molly and I. He's almost always here to see our performances, and that's what I love about our brother. The few times he isn't here, he asks us how it went later.

Molly glances my way as the music begins. I offer her a small smile, then return my focus to the crowd. I tell myself to remember the moves to the lines. Remember the song. Thankfully, I don't need to think too hard. Molly and I have been performing for long enough by now. We know the lines and the moves. We could perform in our sleep.

My eyes trail to the crowd. Passed the usual patrons, passed Pa, and to a tall figure standing at the end of the bar, closest to the door. I can't see the person very well, but something about it has my attention. Even through the bright lights of the stage, I can see the reddish orange tip of a cigarette as the figure takes a drag. My mouth feels dry, but I swallow hard, continuing my work. Forcing myself to keep singing.

The figure exhales, a stream of red smoke flowing up from them. Red smoke.

My voice wavers, and I catch a glimpse of my father and his guest turning their heads to the stage. Nico's expression falls into confusion.

"An?" Molly's voice has stopped singing as well.

I glance her way, my legs shaking. Molly has her head turned to me, but the rest of her is still facing the crowd. I feel myself slip towards the stage.

"An!" Molly's heels click towards me.

An exploding pain hits me in my left shoulder and hip. My ankle feels twisted. My head throbs. Molly's hand finds mine. In only a few moments, Nico is knelt down on the other side of me. My eyes shift passed both of them, out to the crowd. Pa is looking at us. For once, his face isn't screwed into rage. This time, he looks almost confused.

"Get 'im up." Nico tells Molly.

She isn't focused on him. She's focused on me.

"Molly!" he says.

Our sister blinks, looking over at him.

"Help me."

My eyes slide shut as another set of footsteps climb the steps. I drift off as someone strong loops an arm around the middle of my back, the other scooping up under my knees. I lean my head into their chest. He smells like motor oil with a hint of cigarettes. Benjamin?

"Thanks." Nico's voice says. "Get An to bed. I'm gonna talk to Pops. Molly, go with them."

Benjamin feels warm. His presence is comforting. I feel my body relax a little. I'm so tired. So drained.

Hello, lovely.

What? Who's there?

I'm corruption.

Where am I? More importantly, why am I here?

I just noticed that you seemed a little down.

Before me, a scroll unfurls. I take a step closer. What is this?

Just sign right here, on this line, dear. I can change your life.

Change my life? How?

That red smoke is back. It curls around my wrists, pulling me closer. A figure comes into view, but only a little. They're tall. Much taller than me. I realize it's a man, but he isn't familiar in any way. He wears a coat with fur around the collar. His eyes glow brightly behind a pair of heart-shaped glasses. Though there isn't much light, I can see that he's smiling widely. Sharp teeth glint in the light, one in particular glinting much more. It's gold, I notice.

This is a blind shot in the dark. I don't think what you need is love, take that off.

The smoke tugs at my clothes, as though it's another person, or has a mind of its own.

I'm going to make you a star.

The figure's eyes glow a little brighter as the words flow into my head. The smile broadens unnaturally.

"You can make me a star?" I ask. "A real one?"

But of course, my darling. I'll get you away from that place. Let me be your drug.

The red smoke spins me around, and I'm face to face with the voice. Or at least, I'm facing the darkness where I assume his face is.

Hello, darling, I'm seduction. Why don't you find something comfortable? Let me take your coat, don't be reluctant.

I try to pull my arms away from the smoke, but it doesn't let me. My arms are held tightly in place. I bow my head as the figure blows more smoke at my face. I feel dizzy.

Perfume and parliaments to pacify my clientele. We're all mad down here, darling. That's why we're living in Hell. I take what I want.

I'm spun around again, now facing the scroll, with the figure standing behind it. I glance down, seeing that I'm in a much different outfit than I remember.

This dress is skintight, black, and ends in the middle of my thighs. There's a heart shape cut out across my chest.

Baby, you look ravishing. Do we have a deal? Sign the contract.

I raise my hand. Something sharp pricks my finger. I hiss, seeing a bead of blood pool at the wound.

Your blood will be your ink. Sign it, darling.

So I do. If this mysterious voice can make me a star, I'll take it. Why not? After all, this is just a dream, right?

Anthony

I sit up quickly, breathing hard in the darkness of my room. Molly sits up in her own bed across the room.

"An?" she yawned, rubbing her eyes. "You okay?"

I try to take deep breaths, but my heart is beating fast. Too fast for me to calm myself down.

"Anthony?" Molly slides out of bed.

I hear her feet pad quietly over to my bed. Her hand finds my wrist. From the moonlight coming through the window, I can see the frown on her face.

"Are you okay?" she asks again.

"Yeah..." I whisper. "I... I just need some fresh air."

Molly takes a step back when I throw my legs over the side of the bed.

"Do you want some company?" she asks.

"No. You go back to bed, Molls."

She looks hurt. I stand, offering a gentle squeeze to her hand, and pass by her. Molly stays where she is, watching me grab my peignoir from the hook by my bed. I slip it on and step out into the hallway. Everything is silent, aside from the snores coming from Pa's bedroom. I make my way down the hall, away from the bedrooms. I want to be alone right now, and if there's one place I can go to be alone, it's not here. When we were kids, Ma used to take us to a park for picnics. I always found it peaceful, and it became my favorite spot, even after Ma passed. I find an empty bench and take a seat, looking around at the deserted park around me. Dirt paths wind around shadowed bushes and manicured trees. The distant sound of a babbling brook is the only sound I hear. It's quiet, peaceful, and perfect.

I sigh to myself, relaxing into the bench. I lean my head back, scanning the dark sky above me. Cloudless. The moon is getting close to full.

After a few minutes of blissful silence, I hear footsteps. The rustle of foliage. I sit up, turning to the sound. In the moonlight, I can see a familiar face, and I sigh.

"What do you want?" I ask.

Nico raised a brow at me.

"What are ya doing out here, An?"

I roll my eyes, hugging my waist.

"Getting fresh air. What does it look like?"

Nico steps closer. I hear a rustle of fabric, and he tosses his jacket over my shoulders, taking a seat on the bench beside me. I accept his jacket, pulling it closer around me.

"You had a bad dream, didn't ya?" he asks.

I don't respond. Nico, and Molly, know me too well. She probably snitched to him. After a few silent moments, Nico holds up his pack of cigarettes to me. I accept one.

"Don't tell Pops." he tells me.

I scoff. Right. Like I'll tell Pa anything. Out of the corner of my eye, I can see Nico smirk. He doesn't smile much, but I'm glad to see it when he does.

"Do ya wanna talk about it, An?" he asks me, lighting up his cigarette, then mine.

I take a drag and let it out slowly. I don't want to talk about it.

"No." I say.

Nico nods, taking a drag. He doesn't push, and I appreciate that. He's never been the pushy type when it comes to sensitive topics, unlike Molly, who insists on knowing everything. I don't mind it usually, but sometimes, it gets to me.

"This is Ma's place." Nico states.

I look over at him. His eyes are focused on the ground in front of him, his cigarette slowly burning down, the smoke curling up from the tip.

"She used to bring us here."

His voice is softer than usual. I scoot closer to him, looping my arm with his.

"She did." I say. "Do ya remember her?"

Nico nods.

"Yeah. You an' Molly look a lot like her." he says.

I lean my head on his shoulder.

"Was she as beautiful as I remember?"

"Yea. She was."

Nico takes a deep breath and lets it out slowly.

"An, we should get back." he tells me. "It's cold out."

I know he's implying my weakness. It's the main reason he gave me his jacket. When I was little, the doctor informed Ma and Pa that I was weaker than my siblings. Turns out, Ma had similar issues in her youth, and now she's gone. Nico just wants the best for me. He's always watching over me and Molly. There have been a few times when he got between Pa and I during one of Pa's drunken outbursts. As far as I know, Pa blames me for Ma being gone. He's always been so hard on me. He holds Molly high up on a golden pedestal, portraying her as the golden child of our family. Nico is held on a silver pedestal, portrayed as the best man in his company. Then there's me. His punching bag.

"Pa hates me, doesn't he?"

Nico looks down at me.

"What? No."

I turn my head up to meet his eyes.

"He does, Nico. He's always picking on me. I've never seen him smile. Not once."

He sighs softly, turning his eyes away.

"It's complicated, An. Finish up, we should get back 'fore he wakes up and sees we're gone."

I roll my eyes, keeping my head against his shoulder.