Befalls

Drag Me Down - Since its founding, the demonic duchy of Vernon has capitalized on the abundance of naturally formed gates within their borders to facilitate prosperous trade between the Nethers and its human overworld counterpart. While the aristocrats ostensibly control interworld trade, a web of robust criminal dynasties reign over the thriving graymarket.

A war between two mafia factions has menaced the streets of Levont with weeks of bloodshed. When the conflict escalates into unacceptable costs that hinder profits made from the city’s lucrative smuggling ring of Earthen-world contraband, Toby’s family undertakes the task of mediating a truce between the two warring bosses.

Toby has served as his family’s head of security for most of his life. This mediation, he assumes, will be just like all the others… copious amounts of alcohol and yelling, a stabbing, sometimes gunshots, a few explosions perhaps- but always ending with an accord, even if flimsy. The eve of this fated gathering, however, brings unforeseen threats from both enemies and within his own family. Each peril tests Toby’s mettle, and by the end of the night Toby finds his life is forever changed.

“Well, what do you think?” Russ asked with a poorly concealed snicker. “Humans helped design the park; it’s supposed to be one of the best on this side of Nethers. Great for all ages!”

Toby snorted. “That’s the best you can come up with?”

“No,” Russ retorted, grinning. “But I thought it’d be a good start to break the ice.”

Toby sighed heavily and closed his eyes again. “A place like that would be fine if we needed to entertain kids. The only vacation I need is a quiet weekend with my doting husband. I don’t care about the place.”

“You’re charming, but no fun,” Russ said. A pout drew on his lips as he returned his attention back to searching on his phone. “Oh! Here- how about hiking in Mount Delin? I went there four years ago, pretty nice area.”

Toby opened his eyes for only a split second, glanced over the generic mountain picture, and closed his eyes again. “Hiking is work.”

“Well, yeah, but it’s fun,” Russ hummed. “And I get the best pictures of the valleys there. Rich folk in Halwin pay premium for ‘em.”

Toby folded his fingers together over his chest and pictured Russ four years ago among the gargantuan trees with a camera in both hands while his treasured sniper’s rifle probably nestled against a trunk somewhere nearby along with a single, large duffle bag that contained all of the drifting demon’s possessions. They still had that ragged duffel bag somewhere in a box, he was sure of it.

For awhile, Russ continued to proffer different locations for them to travel together. After showing an image of some beach house in a dubious part of North Harbor, he felt Russ stiffen underneath him. He opened his eyes with a frown, to which Russ offered an awkward smile and said, “Don’t react- Seth is down here.”

It took all Toby’s self-restraint not to whip up in the booth and look for himself. His breath quelled in his lungs and he nodded. “What’s he doing?”

“Well, it’s what he’s not doing that is more important… which is not gunning us down in a rain of bullets, covered in blood from a bloodbath upstairs. He looks… normal? Chatting up the bartender right now.”

Toby calmly eased himself up into a sitting position and rubbed his tired eyes. He watched Seth make his way towards them with a faster pace than casual. He noted with increasing alarm Seth’s forced smile as he pretended to lazily lean on one arm over their booth’s back.

“Everything alright, Seth?” Toby asked quietly.

“Yeah, yeah. Meeting is fine.” Seth waved a dismissive hand. “Claire is working her miracle-magic, as always. I think they’ll be finished within the next hour, actually.”

“Good,” was all Toby replied with. He and Seth locked eyes for a moment before the demon glanced around, pointedly hovering his gaze over the few other occupants including the piano player, bartender, and staff members readying the club for the night. 

“You know how boring those mediations get after awhile… I needed a breather. Know a good room I could smoke in for a bit?”

Toby climbed out of the booth, ignoring Russ’s petulant frown as he did so. “Yeah. You want a bottle of cognac too?”

Seth barked a laugh. “And take out a second mortgage to pay for it? I’ll pass, thanks.”

Toby shrugged and moved to walk past Seth. As Seth joined his side, he stepped closer to Toby and whispered, “I need to talk with you. Alone.”

The comment strummed all the tight strings in Toby’s chest that had not settled down since his talk with Marie. He nodded grimly and led Seth through the staff entrance. His office was too far away for a discreet meeting, so he kept them in the main staff hallway, dodging between the rushing staff members, and ducked out of a door further down the way. The abandoned hallway housed a string of rooms intended for dancing practice and staff meetings, unused and ignored at this time of day. He stopped in front of one and ushered Seth inside.

Toby didn’t turn on any lights, but he did loosen the blinds on the one window of this room. Loose peels of faded golden light from the streetlights fell into the room. The room held a minuscule wooden stage, a few long tables, a small bar, and a piano. Layers of dust and dirt covered most of the furniture. This particular room had seen little use for quite a long time, and none of the staff would dare use it without express permission from Sybille herself. They would be alone.

Seth looked about before he walked to the wall beside the bar. Framed pictures cascaded that wall. It was a veritable timeline of the history of the Brancato family in relation to Ember’s Lounge, which were really one in the same. An aged, brown picture featured in the middle of the collage; Toby’s father held a drink up from his position at a piano and his mother leaned over it in one of her ostentatious dresses, jewelry dangling all over. The photograph captured the day Beau had rebranded the family name, taking it from some human he had been impressed with on the other side, as well as christened their new club. From there the photographs fanned out with images of the seven immediate children, Toby included, during various celebrations that had taken place at the club. 

Seth followed one branch until its abrupt end to the right. He stopped in front of a particular photograph and sighed heavily, a deep frown on his face. Toby knew the picture by heart, because he had also often stood in front of it in much the same way recently. Although he usually held a half-empty bottle of rum with him when he did. It was, by far, the picture that featured Marie Brancato at the happiest she had ever been in her life. It was the night of her first solo in the Levont Symphony. She had just played for half of the city along with the wealthiest tourists who patronized the arts.

Now, after they fired her quite stolidly for her erratic behavior, Marie would be lucky if they ever let her step foot into the building again.

Her deep smile in the picture, however, stemmed from another source beyond her triumphant performance. She leaned onto the arm of a demon in a rented tuxedo that didn’t fit well over his muscular chest and arms. His fanged and sharp grin matched the mirthful lil of his golden eyes. Toby remembered that he had taken great pain to keep the fluffed crop of his white hair contained around his down-curled horns, but to no avail. By the time they had posed for this picture his hair had fluffed back into its usual lumpy cloud.

Seth audibly sighed again. “Reed really isn’t that bad a guy—"

“Stop,” Toby cut in roughly, his lip curling on one side to reveal a fang. “Don’t say his name here.”

Seth appraised him a moment before continuing. “He just couldn’t handle family life, Toby. He wasn’t built for it. He runs when he feels suffocated- he’s always been like that, even when we were kids.”

“Then he shouldn’t have tricked my sister into marrying him in the first place.”

Seth raised a brow. “It might’ve been the other way around, if I recall correctly.” He held his hands up when Toby growled. “Sorry, sorry- that’s obviously not what I wanted to talk to you about. You know the Raider street house?”

Toby strode forward and placed himself between Seth and the photographs, unwilling to expose his family further to the demon’s scrutiny. He crossed his arms over his broad chest and leered down Seth. “I don’t keep up with Neverra’s drug houses. I haven’t worked the streets in years.”

“Still, I’m surprised,” Seth said quietly. He pulled out his phone and glanced between it and Toby as he searched through it. “We had to pay your ma a fortune just to set up operations on Raider street, since it’s so close to your territory. She’s going to get a good monthly cut of the profits from here on out. It’s also within the circle of the murders.”

Toby shrugged and remained silent. He did not like this unexpected topic, and he was certain he wouldn’t like where it was going.

Seth finally found whatever he had been looking for on his phone. He looked up at Toby with a somber expression. “I got a call from Ike, the guy who runs it. He insisted it was important enough for me to leave the meeting for.”

Seth stepped closer to Toby and held up the picture on his phone. Toby’s heart froze and then almost fell out of his chest entirely. The screenshot showed Marie like he’d never seen her before. In this image, she looked exactly opposite of the accomplished pianist in the photograph at Toby’s back.

In the pixelated, grainy image, Marie Brancato brandished a gun at a few bewildered, burly demons on the opposite side of the room while a bleeding demon writhed on the floor at her feet. Her hair black hair hung in wild, stringed heaps about her head and shoulders. The sleeves of her trenchcoat hung too loosely against her frail body, exposing the scarlet skin of her delicate wrists. With a lurch in his stomach, Toby recognized the coat as one that Reed had left behind.

“This was about an hour ago,” Seth explained. When Toby’s eyes flashed up at him, Seth held up one hand. “She’s fine, for now. Ike managed to talk her down after he gave her a pile of fent and locked her in a room.”

Toby glanced back at the picture and his eye picked up more details. He snatched the phone from Seth’s hand to clutch the screen closer and focused on the part of the image that stopped Toby’s heart entirely. On either side of Marie, clinging desperately to the loose folds of her trenchcoat, were two toddlers. One buried her face so deep into the fabric of the coat that only her feathery white hair and tightly coiled, downturned onyx horns were visible. The other child was an almost identical mirror of his sister, except his face was turned slightly to stare, wide-eyed, at the carnage before them.

“Why…” Toby breathed out, unable to finish the question as his entire chest seemed to seize up. He trembled as he poured over every detail the poor picture allowed of the two children, then gritted his teeth and handed the phone back to Seth with shaking hands. “Why would she have brought the twins with her?”

Seth shook his head. He turned off his phone, his sad eyes downcast on the ground. “She’s hooked on Caine, isn’t she, Toby?”

Toby sank down into the piano seat in a daze. He buried his face in his hands. “I don’t know.”

“That’s what the Raider house specializes in. She has to be. It wrecks demons, Toby. Completely wrecks them. It’s no wonder she’d do something like this. How the fuck didn’t you know?” Seth’s voice was accusatory now, but Toby, instead of feeling defensive, felt rightfully chastised. 

“I knew she’d been using. I brought her some myself. But… she seemed better last time. I just thought… she needed it, to get through this.” Even as Toby said it, he knew how weak that sounded. 

 Seth was silent for a long while before he spoke again. “Listen, Toby… I know Reed—" Seth paused when Toby lifted his head, a vitriolic flare in his eyes directed at him. He sighed and tried again. “I know that asshole is just a greaseball who deserves to be left in the past where he belongs, but… I had good memories with him. I don’t want to see his two children and their mother get killed because they drowned in the wake of his wreckage.”

Toby ran his hands over his face again before he looked back to Seth with a weary expression. “What does Ike want?”

“At first he seemed like he wanted to go straight to the boss, throw the Brancato’s under the bus, and use it as an excuse to break the talks upstairs.” Seth sighed heavily. “But then he shifted gears, and I talked him into the more profitable and discreet route.”

“How much?”

“He wants 200k within the next hour. Then you can walk out with her and the kids, he gets to pocket all the money, and no one is the wiser.”

She was coherent enough to snap at him. Promising. He resettled his elbow on the table and leaned forward, as though she were sitting across from him now. It wasn’t difficult to imagine; they had spent their entire lives in this club. The version of Marie he pictured across from him now was the Marie he knew before that bastard got a hold of her. Her silky black hair pulled back in a tight braid behind her horns, a sanguine smile under her iridescent eyes.

Toby glanced towards the piano. Start with a fact. “The player Diane replaced you with is a fucking nightmare. Norman and Arthur were pouring Ernest glass after glass of scotch just so he wouldn’t notice the idiot’s key-banging.”

The renewed quiet put Toby on edge with a cringe. Had he chosen his words too poorly?

Eventually, she breathed again and asked, “Arthur helped entertain? I swear that boy grows another five years every time I see him.”

“He’s doing well for himself, actually. He and Diane got the booths sold out for that broad they’ve got headlining next week.”

“And you fucking doubted her, Tobias Brancato. My sister is a lot of things, but she sure as hell has good taste in leading acts.”

An airy mirth filled Marie’s voice and gave Toby more hope. He pictured her again across the table with that radiant smile of hers. The fantasy had pulled him so deeply in that her next question caught him off-guard.

“The piano player they replaced me with… what does he look like?” She waited for Toby to describe him and then clicked her tongue. “You big fucking liar. That’s John Preston; Ma probably paid a fortune for him to play tonight. He’s usually exclusive to Levont Regal.”

“No, he’s terrible,” Toby insisted. “Every player is terrible compared to you.”

The weak, desperate laugh from Marie descended abruptly into a bout of wracking sobs. Toby listened to her cries and sniffles until she breathed sharply again and spoke in a shaking voice. “Oh- fuck, Toby… what do you even want?”

“I want you to keep your promise and play tonight.”

“I’m too late—” A hitched sob interrupted her pinched voice. “Ma wouldn’t even let me in, after I stood her up again, and on tonight of all nights.”

“She will. And I’ll escort you to the band pit myself. You can play the rest of tonight. You just need to be here.”

Marie did not respond. He heard a small whine escape from her, and then he knew with a cruel clarity that she sat paralyzed on the floor of her bedroom again, curled over some jacket or other piece of clothing that the bastard had left behind. Just like he had found her last time.

“I can’t- I really can’t.”

Toby’s heart picked up in pace again. He was losing her.

“You can,” Toby insisted. “Just pick yourself up off the damn floor and get over here, Marie.”

He hadn’t meant to sound so harsh, and he immediately regretted his tone. Her presence shied away behind a shield, the retreat as solid as if it were a physical barrier Toby had hit against. His back grew rigid with tension and he found himself fruitlessly clutching for the right words now. Surely something in his wild speech would stick and pull her back to him.

 “Come on, Marie. You can wear that one dress you always love, and I’ll get Nicky to make that gross burger you like before you go on. Just get yourself cleaned up and over here. We can smooth the rest when you’re here. Bring the twins with you, you know the staff loves seeing ‘em—“

“I’m sick, Toby. I can’t go,” she wailed. 

Before he could reply, she continued with an endless string of whispered rambles about her aches and pains, and Toby knew he had lost her yet again. He listened as her speech deteriorated into simple, potent sobs again. He thought back, calculated just how many doses of Caine he had left her. The new drug mixture was fresh from the Neverra’s black market. Human scientists supposedly designed the drug specifically for demons. The number that Toby remembered made him swallow a lump that had formed in his throat. That stash should have lasted much longer than this.

He restrained his own growing sense of despair and pushed himself to speak. “Marie- stop. Listen to me. How much do you have left?”

“I ran out yesterday,” Marie admitted between wails. She sniffled and then her tone turned acrid. “You didn’t bring me enough.”

Toby glanced at Russ, thankful the other couldn’t hear. Russ would have had plenty to say about that comment, to both Marie and Toby. He hunched his shoulders, squaring up as though for a physical fight. “Marie—"

“Oh, Toby,” she whimpered. “I-I can’t make it there. I need you here, please. Bring me more.” Her voice suddenly shifted with the new prospect, and a high trill of desperation infected her words. “Please, Toby. Come get me, bring me more- then I’ll go back to the club with you. If you really want to, we’ll take Harriet and Harlan- please, Toby. If you can just bring me some more now, I’ll be alright.”

Toby forced the growing surge of nausea and panic down. He kept his voice as calm and neutral as possible. “Marie, I can’t do that. You know I can’t leave yet.”

“So that’s it, then!” Marie’s voice grew into a crescendo that left Toby’s ear ringing. “You’re going to just leave me to the wolves and abandon me like everyone else? Fine, then. I’ll handle this myself, like a fucking Brancato is supposed to. Isn’t that what Ma has been saying this whole time to me? Isn’t that what you’ve wanted to say to me all this time? Well, fuck off now, Toby. I’ll take care of myself like you all want me to.”

Before Toby could even process her sudden barrage of bitter words, the call went dead. He numbly lowered his phone, unable to work through the swirling mess of panic, heartache, and fury that filled his mind. Most of all, he felt a chill from the sense of foreboding that came with her final words.

Russ shifted close to his side again and raised a brow sardonically. “Went well, then?”

Toby continued to stare at the phone even after he had placed it on the table. The conversation replayed so fiercely in his mind that he barely felt Russ’s presence at his side. Russ enclosed both his hands over one of Toby’s, and only then Toby said with a frown, “We need to get over there.”

“What’s the rush?” Russ asked with a sigh. “She’s just going to grovel on the floor like she usually does until someone peels her up again. There’s no reason to bust our asses getting to her.”

“As soon as the meeting’s over, we’re going,” Toby said with finality. “Juliet can handle security after that.”

Russ’s head tilted in thought as he eyed Toby carefully. He sighed again and nodded. “Fine, Toby. I think it’s another waste of time, but I’ll follow you no matter what. In the meantime, though- you also have a promise to keep.” Russ unlocked their hands and then shifted further back into the booth. He grinned and held his arms out. “Come here, big fella. Time to shut your eyes for a bit.”

Further down the table, Toby picked out Arthur among the others. His nephew had peeled away from Claire and the Neverra’s after their initial induction to the meeting room and now sat among the Marsel’s, following his own father’s lead with the rowdy crowd. He sat at one side of the group with Norman, who was even more glamorously clad than Arthur this evening. Arthur was the spitting image of his father; side by side, they mirrored each other’s mannerisms and charms, identical except for their age.

A particularly loud round of laughter after one of Arthur’s jokes drew the entire group’s attention to him. When Arthur took center stage, Gran joined in with a matronly smile. When Arthur’s father did, however, her face darkened slightly and she took the opportunity to sip her wine or to lean in over Ernest’s shoulder for a hushed aside.

Sybille wore a sleeveless, black dress underneath the white of a luxurious fur shawl about her shoulders. She sat straight and prim in her chair, her arms delicately poised at her side with a myriad of scars that matched well with the various cracks in her horns, twin goliaths that looped past the scope of her scalp in an intimidating display.

A single piece of jewelry graced her neck, given to her by Toby’s father. A golden necklace sporting a large rose diamond teased through the fur occasionally when she shifted just right in the light. The lump of pink among her scarlet skin between the tufts of fur reminded Toby uncomfortably of a freshly killed animal on snow. She paid careful attention to Ernest, even going so far as to refill his whiskey glass at one point with a supplicant smile. Toby eyed her carefully with a growing suspicion that his mother had deeper plans beyond tonight’s mediation, and the thought added to the helpless, leaden weight on his chest.

“Everything alright?” Russ asked quietly, breaking into his thoughts.

Toby nodded before stalking past the bar. He sidestepped a waiter carrying a tub of folded napkins and picked his way through the orderly grid of dark tables, accompanied by chairs and interspersed booths both upholstered in rich reds, stretched out before him. Gilded bronze panels against a white backdrop lined the entire room. They towered from floor to ceiling, and it always seemed to Toby that they hoarded for themselves all the light from the decadent, hanging light fixtures of beaded crystal, leaving only a tantalizing dimness.

The building itself had originally been built as Levont’s premier theater well before Toby’s time, back during the city’s heyday and when Belle Avenue was the center of activity. The appointed magistrate back then had been all too willing to approve building projects that enticed Vernon’s sybaritic duke, Percival Dorian, into their city… or so Toby’s father, Beau Brancato, had always told him.

Despite Dorian’s best political pleading at the council meetings, the demonic duchies banned unregulated trading of human goods throughout his domain almost a century ago, and the resulting crash gave Beau the opportunity to buy the theater for almost nothing. His father renovated the place to serve as the Brancato base for their newly illegal enterprises as well as a den of luxurious entertainment for those in Levont and beyond who could afford it.

The club was not set to open officially for their usual range of clientèle for another hour. Toby dodged around waiters and barkeeps who tended the empty tables and bar, preparing for the evening like usual. A pair of Toby’s bouncers lounged by the stage while a few band members had arrived in the band pit and played some tentative strings of songs. Toby’s focus drifted again as he watched the players, passing his gaze over each one until he found a pianist he did not recognize. He jerked to rigid stop, causing Russ to practically collide into him, and he glared at the affront.

Russ rubbed at his nose and followed Toby’s glare to its source with a cringe. “I thought you already knew—"

“She didn’t show?” Toby asked in a strained voice.

Russ shook his head helplessly, his tail kicking behind him in an anxious twitch.

Toby continued to glower at the replacement pianist as the demon lifted his hands over the same keys his father had played all of Toby’s life. He snarled but then twisted away from the debacle and led Russ to a nearby booth. Russ plopped down without further comment, and Toby walked with more intent towards the eruption of raucous laughter from Marsel and the others. He paused on the outskirts of the gathering and waited for his mother to notice his arrival.

The shimmer of sequined corsets and diamond jewelry dazzled his eyes in the low lighting. Dancing Cinders had paired off with one or more of Marsel’s officers. As Toby approached, Doe, a rouge-skinned demon from parts unknown upriver, gave him a gleeful smile before leaning over the back of a chair on her folded arms, chattering happily with Marsel’s first lieutenant. The demon sipped a glass of golden whiskey in her gray hands as her eyes shifted relentlessly between the sparkled movement of dangling jewelry on Doe’s demure horns, Doe’s bunched breasts so close to her eye level, and the flick of Doe’s hips and tail. A few seats away Jett paused his demonstration of a new dance mid-step, causing the boa feathers to ripple pleasantly in his wake, and waved at Toby with a broad smile.

Perched on the armrest of Ernest’s own chair, her lithe legs crossed, was the lead dancer and manager of the Cinders, Viola, and Ernest’s stormy eyes were glued to her. Lacy stockings covered Viola’s juniper skin all the way down to her heels, and she swung her foot idly around in the air as she locked her emerald eyes with Ernest, who grinned, his fangs dipping past his lips. Toby already knew the woman was a genius when it came to Ernest’s type. Viola’s talents on and off the stage, as well as in bed, were the main reason his mother intended to continue paying her astronomical salary until the demon retired.

When Sybille caught his eye eventually, she excused herself from the conversation and rose from her chair in a single, elegant motion. His sister, Diane, silently echoed their mother’s movement. Toby waited until they had all walked a safe distance from the table and said, “Outside is secured.”

They had ended up near the booth where he had left Russ. Sybille wrinkled her nose under narrowed eyes at Russ while he drummed his fingers innocently on the table’s surface, pretending not to notice the hostile look his way. Regardless, Toby stepped between the two of them.

“Arthur said as much when he checked in earlier.” Gran’s expression softened when she turned to her son, but her eyes clouded in sharp thought. Toby let her ruminate and his gaze drifted back towards the piano player after the demon hit the wrong key. His shoulders tensed with agitation, and Gran’s voice did little to ease it. “Oh, wipe that look off your face, Tobias. They’ll think something is wrong.”

Toby bared his teeth slightly as he glared at his mother. She eyed him back. straightened to her full height, and placed a hand on her hip. The fur shawl slipped off one shoulder, revealing a long, jagged scar. “Our hired player didn’t show up today, hasn’t shown up for weeks, in fact, so I had to replace her. There’s nothing more to it than that. So do as I say and wipe that look off your face.”

Toby swatted his tail behind him and pocketed his hands. He stewed silently until Diane cleared her throat, breaking into the tension.

“We’ve buttered up ole Ernest quite a bit now. Isn’t it time we get started, then?” Diane tilted her head, bouncing her dark cloud of short curls. Even though she wore an unusually demure outfit, a slick pair of brown pants and a loose dark top over her curvy figure, she still radiated with the bubbling charm that Arthur had inherited.

Sybille nodded and then looked over her shoulder to nod at Norman. The demon stood, leaving his son to continue sweet-talking their guests, which Arthur did exceedingly well, and made his way over to them. Gran curled her lip in a snarl as he slid a heavy hand over Diane’s torso, pulling her in close to his side like a prize— as well she very much was the hard-earned Brancato prize he had won from prolonged years of courting. His hand settled low on her hip, and Diane bloomed under his touch. 

Norman dragged on the thick cigar in his mouth and blew the smoke in a different direction than Diane. “We all ready, then?”

“Go meet Claire and the Neverra’s. She’s taking point on this and will lead the meeting. Do exactly as she says, and don’t mess this up. If any of them, from either side, look like they’re about to throw blows, you squash it. Understand?”

“Yeah, yeah. I can handle this.” Norman offered a cheeky grin, flicking the ashes of his cigar carelessly onto the floor.

Sybille’s eyes pinched into an even narrower glower, and Norman’s confident expression became dogged for a moment as he glanced away from her sheepishly. The demon had served as Sybille’s bodyguard for decades now and knew her temper well. Despite this, Sybille’s ire was easily drawn on him for the slightest of infractions ever since the wedding vows were exchanged.

“I’ll bring the Marsel’s.” Sybille swiveled on one of her heels, her tail swaying gracefully with the action. “And one more thing, Norman. If you dare to litter those disgusting ashes on my carpet again, I’ll be taking that cigar from you myself, along with a finger or two.”

They all watched her stalk back to Ernest, a pleasant and charming smile back on her face as she approached the group. Toby and the rest stared a minute, shaded in the wake of her departure. Norman instinctively moved to flick more ashes off his cigar, then froze and muttered, “Damn, she always finds something to nag me with.”

Russ had been quietly watching them all during the conversation. He stood up on his knees in the booth and helpfully held out an ashtray for Norman. He grinned and said, “I have yet to meet an in-law she actually likes.”

“Same,” Diane agreed with a small laugh. She stepped with Norman as he moved towards the ashtray gratefully, plugging the cigar into the metal surface. “Our mother just has impossibly high expectations for all our significant others. Right, Toby?”

Toby shrugged. He had returned to his fixation on the replacement pianist, a sinister dark cloud shadowed his features that none of the others dared to comment on. 

“I work hard enough. She should acknowledge me as an equal by now, damnit,” Norman grumbled. He and Diane began delicately readjusting the rich attire of his expensive suit and bobbles. 

“Nevermind that now, darling,” Diane said soothingly. She locked eyes with him, a warm smile on her face. “Now go protect my sister, you big goon.”

Norman grinned down at her, pecked her on the cheek, and turned to swagger out a back staff door. Not long afterwards, the Marsel’s began to pop up around the table until all of them were standing. Arthur offered his arm to Sybille and then allowed her to lead them towards the entrance, a broad smile dancing on his face. Diane scampered off without any preamble; there was still much for her to do behind the stage before the opening of the club for the night.

In their absence, the piano continued playing slow tunes under Toby’s venomous glare. An audible, exasperated sigh from Russ behind him broke into his thoughts. “Toby, come sit down before you pass out from sheer brute force. You need some rest anyway before you take up your post again for tonight.” 

Toby didn’t argue. Russ slid deeper to make room as Toby pushed into the booth and settled onto its plush cushion. He pulled out his phone and held it between both hands over the table’s surface. He stared for a long time, a frown on his face. “I don’t remember the last time I checked in on her, let alone called. Has it been a month already?”

Russ’s tail smacked against the booth beside him in irritation. “You have enough going on right now without Marie’s baggage to deal with on top of it.”

Toby lay his phone down on the table and wiped his hand down his tired face. “She’s struggling, Russ. What kind of brother would I be if I left her all alone in this?”

Russ sighed heavily. He sidled up against Toby’s side and wrapped an arm around his waist. He said quietly, “You can’t save them all, Toby Brancato. You can’t keep safeguard this club and fix her life for her.”

“It’s not just about her, though.” The mournful statement left him bewildered. The image of the twins from his last visit, cowered in the shadows of their closet as Toby tried to talk sense into their raving mother, ate away at him still. 

Russ followed with another heavy sigh then pulled away from him. He cupped Toby’s chin and turned his husband to face him. “Make the call, then, if you have to… but then I am forcing you to close your eyes and rest for at least a little bit.”

He hovered by the door and listened, although he knew the sniper would never be careless enough to betray his position with noisy, shuffling movements. After a few minutes, Toby stepped back into the alley and heard the returning call of three whistles from the fire escape above him. The sniper considered him for a moment with luminous copper eyes, his tail whisking back and forth behind him. He was a scraggly demon of marigold coloring, swimming in a bundle of a loose brown sweater and jacket that sported lines of thick dust the position he had taken in the building’s upper floors. 

The rifle looked as though it would be heavy and cumbersome in his hands, but the sniper flipped it deftly in a single, fluid movement. A pearlescent grin peeled on his face, revealing prominent fangs, and he tossed his rifle over the escape’s railing. Toby caught the weapon in his hands and then dropped it at his feet, for he knew the sniper’s own brisk descent was soon to follow without warning.

Toby had only seconds to steel himself as the sniper braced a hand on the railing and then vaulted easily over it, dropping into Toby’s waiting arms with practiced ease. Toby grunted as he swayed from the impact but managed to stay on his feet. The sniper adjusted himself in Toby’s hold, perching easily against him, and cocked his head up at Toby with that ever-charming smile, his tail rolling in playful waves through the air behind him. 

“Heya there, Toby.” A smile carved its way onto Toby’s habitual stoic expression as he set the other down. They locked eyes, unable to look away from each other, and Toby used the opportunity to crowd the demon, leaning in dangerously close. The sniper stepped backwards out of instinct until his back bumped against the building’s wall. Toby didn’t let up; he rested his hand on the brick wall beside the sniper’s head and stooped until they were only a breath apart.

“You were supposed to stay with the corner team, Russ.”

Russ’s jovial expression turned sharply mischievous, his grin laced with a predator’s sharpness. He ran his tail up Toby’s leg, pressing intentionally against his thigh. “You going to take me to one of those downstairs rooms and punish me now?”

Toby’s entire face flushed with a rush of blood that left his cheeks burning and his body shaking with embarrassment. He opened his mouth but couldn’t find any words to fill them. Finally, he cursed under his breath and eased back slightly.

“You're too easy, love. Too easy,” Russ hummed in triumph and reached forward to caress Toby’s face before pulling him in for a shockingly chaste kiss that left Toby aching for more.

The gentleness of the touch after hours of brutality shocked Toby with a whiplash. He leaned into Russ’s hand with a sigh, relishing the connection a moment longer before he feared he’d drown in it and never resurface. He pulled away and took in Russ’s disheveled appearance with a frown. He plucked a few cobwebs from Russ’s tawny hair and ashen horns before clicking his tongue. “You promised that if I let you come today then you’d follow the plan. You’re damned lucky that nobody had a good enough vantage point to notice all of your shots were actually intentional.”

“Lucky?” Russ scoffed, his eyes widening in dramatic offense. “Toby you of all people know nothing I do with that rifle is luck.”

“All the same, you should be more careful.” Toby relented with a shake of his head. 

Russ’s eyes lowered thoughtfully and he picked at Toby’s thick, canvas coat, the same one he had brought earlier. He rested his hand on the front and said in a low voice, “I was worried about you, is all. You’ve been more high-strung than usual lately with this stupid meeting today- it’s a lot, Toby, even for you.” A grin spread on his face again and he used his fingers to make a handgun, bobbing it up and down. “I’ll be damned if I let my husband brawl in the streets without helping the best way I know how- by shooting some fuckers.”

“I told you I’m alright.”

“You poured parsley flakes into your coffee this morning instead of sugar,” Russ said, raising a brow. 

“It was just too dark to see yet.” Toby pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed heavily. An incredulous frown spread on Russ’s face, and Toby retreated a few steps back from it with the mark of defeat written all over his expression.

He stepped to the discarded sniper rifle and picked it up with one hand on the barrel. The metal chilled his skin as he balanced it thoughtfully in his hands. Inlaid silver strands webbed through the dark steel in intricate, swirled designs. Ethereal magic thrummed through the threads when Toby grazed his fingers over them, pulsing from the trigger up to the silver muzzle. This rifle was Russ’s prized possession, imbued with magic by a caster for use by demon’s who were less magically inclined. As Russ demonstrated yet again earlier, even without the magic activated it could be devastatingly effective when in skilled hands.

“You haven’t been here long enough yet to see what this city can do even to the strongest,” Toby said gently, his shoulders slumping. “It can chew up and spit out anyone, if you let your guard down even for one minute… become negligent for even a second.”

“I don’t see why you need to worry about that.” Russ’s brows were furrowed in confusion and his tail kicked at his ankles. Around them, the sun set deeper now, and it sharpened the shadows on his face. “You’re the strongest fucker I know.”

“I don’t worry about myself,” Toby said quietly, staring intently back at the weapon in his hands. “If you’ve seen the broken loved ones I have, then you'd understand that I have to protect our own, no matter the cost.”

Russ came up suddenly behind him and wrapped his arms around Toby’s torso. He lay his head heavily on Toby’s shoulder and said quietly, “I do understand, at least a little now… but I don’t want to see you broken. I’m nothing without you, Toby. So let me help you shoulder some of the burden before you burn out completely.”

Toby snaked his tail around Russ, tugging him even closer, and nodded.

Russ happily hummed and pressed his lips against Toby’s neck. He slackened his embrace and shifted to Toby’s side, making him readjust the rifle to one hand, and cocked his head to look up at Toby, his copper eyes gleaming. “Aren’t you glad I stayed?”

The question, as it always did, resurrected the memory from years ago as though it were fresh and new. Toby had held Russ in a more desperate hold then, with an equally desperate plea. Now he tilted his head, a genuine, warm smile on his face as he kissed Russ again, and whispered, “Always.”

Satisfied, Russ pulled away and took the rifle from Toby. Before he turned to leave, Toby grabbed his elbow and shook his head. “You have to leave that here.”

“What?” Russ practically screeched, hugging the rifle close to his chest. “I am not leaving my baby in the gutter like a common piece of trash!”

“We’re not going to be able to sneak it back into the car with everyone milling about now,” Toby retorted gruffly. “And I’d have a hard time explaining to everyone why my photographer husband has a silver-enchanted rifle.”

“Toby!” Russ whined, his expression completely distraught now.

Toby shrugged. “You should have brought the Barrett instead.”

 “But this one is so much more fun, and I never get to use it anymore.” Russ’s shoulders sagged and his tail drooped.

After a few more exchanges, Toby managed to cajole Russ back into the abandoned building. Russ continued to grumble as Toby methodically picked out spots to hide the precious weapon and his husband indignantly dismissed each and every one until they finally settled on tucking it under some broken furniture inside an upper room. As they walked back through the alley, Russ slipped his hand into Toby’s and chattered away about his view of the battle above. He rapidly listed off the scene in a play-by-play that Toby had trouble following. By the time they reached the street again, his mind buzzed with the effort of juggling the imagery as well as considering the next steps of the evening.

The sidewalks were still devoid of the usual crowds by the time they exited the alley. Toby slowed their pace as he looked down towards the wreckage at the end of the street. Police cars and a fire truck had sequestered the area, and Toby watched an officer wave a tow truck in. The lighting from inside the surroundings shops and cafes punctuated the darkening evening through their front glass. Most of the remaining shoppers huddled together at the storefronts, observing the cleanup with morbid curiosity. Toby wondered if the cars and debris would be clear in time for opening hour.

The entirety of Toby’s main team had gathered on the front steps of Ember’s Lounge with the surviving Neverra goon and Seth. Despite the fresh bandages and ragged clothing that sported blood and tears, the group buzzed with elated energy as they shared cigarettes and stories. Brady Neverra was nowhere to be seen; Claire had already disappeared him within the safety of the club.

From the fringe of the group, Juliet sat, hunched over her elbows propped on her knees. She sported a few additional cuts to her face but otherwise looked rather unscathed from the battle. She wrung her hands in front of her and her gaze swept violently over the streets until he and Russ drew in closer. She sluggishly climbed to her, favoring her right side as she did, and smiled with obvious relief.

“Everyone’s accounted for, boss,” she said wearily. “Somehow… it actually worked out.”

Toby nodded, then announced, “sniper’s gone.”

Seth heaved a sigh and blew a puff of smoke into the air. “Ah, well, sometimes you just can’t kill them all.”

Moe grinned at Russ, then winced slightly when it shifted the darkened bruise on his cheek. “Looks like you found Russ, though. Where you been? You missed all the fun.”

“Sorry about that,” Russ said, sheepishly rubbing the back of his head. “Guess I got a little lost.”

The Neverra goon gave a snort and crossed his bandaged arms over his chest. “This is supposed to be the infamous Brancato protection? You can’t even keep your team in place. No wonder this shit even happened in-”

“Watch it,” Seth hissed, snapping a glare on the goon. “Do you even know who the fuck this is? Toby Brancato’s worked Levont’s northern districts since he could walk. He was the one who took down that assassin who targeted all the bosses two years ago.”

The goon sniffed and looked over Toby anew, although still with little respect. “That so?”

“Oh yeah,” Russ cut in. He grinned as he eyed Toby with slitted, lecherous eyes. “He went down on that assassin alright-”

Toby grabbed Russ’s tail and yanked hard, sending a warning glare at his husband. Russ rubbed his backside, but his grin held steady.

“Well, you look like a clown and he looks like an idiot,” the goon snorted again.

Moe interjected then with an acerbic laugh and tossed an arm around Russ. “Ah now, see here- we love it when Toby brings good ole Russ on these jobs. He’s basically useless, but it’s his spirit we all love, right guys?”

Russ laughed along too, not in the least offended. Both he and Toby had spent years building this persona up to shield Russ’s true past, and they used every opportunity to nurture it further.

“Geeze, lay off me, guys! I’m trying my best here,” Russ replied with a coy laugh.

Moe patted Russ’s shoulder before his expression abruptly turned serious, his eyes narrowing on the goon. “But even Russ here can manage to keep some lunatic from dicing up our own and leaving their corpses here, there, and everywhere on the streets. So, you should watch your mouth before you go spouting off any more insults.”

A silence grew from the rising tension between the two demons. Russ slipped out from under Moe and moved to Toby’s side with a frown. Toby exchanged a look with Seth, and he wasn’t entirely surprised when the interaction earned a small, forced laugh from his Neverra counterpart that severed the glares between the two demons. “Come on, guys, lay off it already. Soon enough we’ll all be drinking down some of the Ember’s top shelf whiskey after a well-executed night, so no need to get all feisty now.”

The goon’s sour expression only deepened as he crossed his arms and turned towards the entrance without another word, whipping his tail with the motion. Seth watched the goon enter the club with a roll of his eyes and then shook the ends of his jacket with a few sharp tugs. “I shouldn’t leave that idiot alone with the boss for long. Who knows what new ideas he’ll feed Brady. I’ll be heading inside.”

“You remember the way?” Toby asked.

Seth nodded with a smile that lit his blue eyes. “I could walk this place in my sleep by now. See ya when it’s over, Toby. Russ- always a pleasure.”

The front passenger seat eventually swung open, and Seth Millin ducked out of it. The bodyguard rounded the car and adjusted his jade jacket’s lapels as he gave a cursory glance around. Although he and Toby were around the same age, the Neverra side of the city had weathered Seth more-so. Scars covered the olive green of his skin over his hands and face, and Toby knew more hid all over his body. Normally, Toby thought Seth looked absurdly polished and collected despite the rugged edge of a life spent fighting, but this afternoon he looked beleaguered. They also had endured an eventful day, apparently.

The two nodded at each other, and Seth paused, his gaze lingering on Toby’s men stationed at the front entrance briefly before he turned his attention to the streets. “We were followed.”

“Obviously,” Toby said with a shrug. Both he and Seth looked past the Neverra’s car at the large, white van that had pulled into a parking spot down the street.

“That’s the third one,” Seth groaned, running a hand down his tired face. “These damn SS brats are getting out of hand. We had to detour twice for the last batch until that fucking idiot Greg finally took them out.”

The van inched up on the street and Toby stiffened, ready to spring. He didn’t move yet, however; if they acted too soon the van could pull away and they’d lose the opportunity to eliminate it altogether. Instead, he nonchalantly remarked, “They gave that fool a security detail?”

“Yeah,” Seth said with an exasperated chuckle. “Well, it certainly wasn’t out of merit. More like he was good cannon fodder.”

Toby flashed a grin and then uncrossed his arms. “We’re prepared for what they’ve got planned here. Just need to wait for them to start. So, how do you want to play this?”

“I suspect they’re going for the exact moment that we hand over our weapons to your staff over there, right? The second we’re disarmed, they go for it.”

Toby snorted. He glanced over his shoulder at the pair of guards behind them and then at the pair hidden among the common pedestrians across the street. “They think it’ll be that easy? My team’s small, but efficient.”

Seth readjusted his lapels again and smirked. “I know, Toby, I know- they don’t know that, though, clearly. But why waste your bullets when those two brown-nosing sycophants in the back seat have shiny new guns they bought just for this stupid war?”

Toby looked over the other two demons in the backseat again. Only then did he realize the change; Seth, usually at Brady’s side, had been relegated to the front seat. Toby often picked up various pieces of gossip from Claire. She accumulated both mundane and scandalous rumors, like diamonds on a brooch, from the legal services she offered between all the factions. With no one she could trust with such gleaming nuggets, she often dumped the confidential information on Toby… and she certainly let rain all the details surrounding this particular mess.

Seth had been opposed to this war from the start, determined that there was another explanation behind the string of murders. All the while, the two young guns in the backseat with Brady plied their boss with grandiose visions of an all-out war that could score them access to more gates that the Marsel’s controlled.

“Go on.”

“Well,” Seth said, a predatory grin lighting his face with a renewed enthusiasm. “I say we just wait a few more minutes out here.”

Toby shifted his weight. “For how long, exactly?”

“Oh, not long… I’d say those fools in the van down there are probably rather excited to take this shot at my boss and don’t have the patience to hold until we hand over our weapons. So, let’s just wait for it…”

Almost before the words left Seth’s mouth, the van abruptly peeled out of its spot on the curb and barreled down the road towards them. Just as Toby pulled out his sidearm, the van’s door rolled open to reveal a gangly crowd of demons dressed in cheap, ragged tactical gear typical of the SS agents Toby’s team had already encountered. All wielded various sizes of rifles and firearms directed at the Neverra Rolls-Royce. Their gunshots paraded a trail up the street ahead of their approach, sending pedestrians scattering in a wave of panic and screams. Toby went to the cover of the car. He slammed against the trunk and braced his arms on it. He sent off a few shots that managed to hit one of the demons. Seth mirrored his movements at the front of the car.

A pause in the volley of bullets gave a chance for the two Neverra goons beside their boss to slither out. They burst out with their guns blazing, and another SS fell to the street, howling in pain. Toby ducked behind the car when the enemy returned fire. Although his ears stung form the shots hailing around him, he heard his own two men across the street join the fray with shouts of their own.

Toby dropped his gun on the ground and pulled out two knives. Out of the corner of his eye, he caught Seth’s wry grin as he shook his head at Toby. He ignored the other and waited a few more breaths before he launched himself over the back of the car. He vaulted over the veneer of the ruined car’s surface and descended into the startled pack of SS like a hammer. He lodged his blade under the chin of one too stunned to react quick enough, and then drove the hilt of in his other hand into the jaw of another. When he withdrew his blade a spray of blood slung over the nearest enemy’s shocked face, and then he locked his narrowed eyes on those around him.

The demons stared wide-eyed at him, frozen by this unexpected close range of combat. Both Neverra’s and Toby’s men took advantage of the hesitation and picked off two more with pointed gunfire. One of them gave a bark of surprise and broke their frozen ranks to bolt past Toby. The rest of the group scattered away from him then, awkwardly stumbling out of the van in a fan onto the street to avoid his assault.

Toby followed a pair who darted in a similar direction to the first and threw his knife at the back of one. The demon jerked from the impact and dropped to his knees on the ground beside his discarded gun. He ineffectively grabbed at the embedded blade in his shoulder, twisting with a painful shout. Toby stalked past him and slashed at the other, who had turned his gun on him, but his swipe was just a hair too late. The demon sidestepped out of the way, barely missing the knife’s edge, and turned the muzzle of his gun on Toby.

Toby flinched, prepared to feel the burning sensation of bullets riddle through his flesh. The gunshots that resonated through the streets, however, were deeper than mere rifle shots. Toby watched the demon’s head erupt into a bloody heap before the body fell stiffly to the ground. The second demon, still on his knees with a hand ghosted over the knife in his back, gaped at his partner’s demise, dumbstruck. The gunshot blared again and that demon jerked as a hole burst through his own chest just a second later.

The radio on Toby’s shoulder crackled to life. “They got a sniper!”

Toby gritted his teeth and looked around him to find the positions of his and Neverra’s men as well as the enemy. The peaceful crowds from earlier had long since fled into the cover of the surrounding buildings, leaving the streets empty except for the combatants. Toby looked back over the street at the scattered SS agents left before him. Thunders of gunshots followed in the wake of his gaze, trailing a peppering of impacts on the street itself and scoring fatal holes into each of the SS agents along the way. He bent down and retrieved his blade from the dead demon’s back, then clicked on his radio. “Stick to the main problem, deal with these SS first- and get at least one of these assholes alive for the Neverra’s.”

The screech of tires on concrete along with the acrid smell of burning rubber hit Toby next. He straightened from his latest kill and watched the van attempt to take off down the street. Several of its own members were run over in the SS driver’s panic to escape. One of them shouted curses and even ran down the street after it, his hand pathetically stretched out as though he could reach it in time before it completely sped away.

Toby sheathed his knives, wiped his face roughly against his sleeve, and began walking after the fleeing van.

A large truck with the lettering ‘Grand Point Pawn’ appeared at the intersection at the end of the street and stopped just in the path of the van’s escape route. Toby held his breath as he watched the red blur of his niece slip out of the driver’s side, like he taught her, and dash out of the way just before the van collided straight into the truck’s side. The collision caused both vehicles to crumple together and skid along the pavement until finally settling into a single, broken heap in the middle of the intersection.

As Toby’s footsteps crunched through the debris littered on the streets, two demons, so bloodied that the true light blue of their skin barely showed, climbed out of the remains of the van. They fell to the pavement in a daze and crawled with no real progress through glass and metal shards. Toby took his time in his approach to ease the heaves of his chest as he struggled to catch his breath.

Seth joined his side. He straightened his jacket’s cuffs, now strewn with streaks of blood, and grinned. “Damn- I should have known you’d have all the ducks in a row. Why did I even bother to plan anything myself?”

Toby shrugged and glanced over his shoulder at the broken body of Brady Neverra’s latest favorite, while the other seemed almost completely unharmed by Brady’s side. “Only got one of your idiots taken out, sorry.”

“Nah, that’s alright,” Seth said with a chuckle. “One less moron in our organization will make a world of difference with ole Neverra… and looks like we have just enough of these anti-smuggling assholes left alive to gather some valuable intel after we ask them very nicely. I owe you one, Toby Brancato.”

“You most definitely owe me more than just one, Seth Millin,” Toby said with a quick, small grin of his own before he broke away from Seth’s side and left the Neverra captain to handle the rattled survivors.

Toby stepped past the wreckage towards his niece, Gemma. She braced a hand against the post of the intersection’s signal lights. Her eyes lit with excitement and her body practically radiating with jittery energy. Juliet had appeared at her side. Oblong, green leaves strangled within Juliet’s hair tousled about as she looked over Gemma, checking over the woman carefully for injuries. Toby glanced about them and discovered one of the sidewalk’s trees had grown and twisted its shape into a looping hook that had speared an SS demon. He had been so absorbed in the fight that he hadn’t even felt Juliet take in magic from the ethereal stream and cast it.

Moe also stood with them. He cast a maniacal smirk over the wreckage just yards away, hands on his hips. Gemma hopped eagerly from one foot to the other as she wildly recounted her heroic maneuver to the older two. When they caught sight of Toby, however, they all straightened up.

“You alright, Gem?”

“Of course- I did it just like you told me, Uncle Toby! It was awesome!” Gemma’s bright smile reached the excited, golden glow of her eyes.  

“Thanks for the help, Gem,” Toby patted her shoulder with a fond smile. “Call our contact at the police station. Tell him to meet you here and get a cleanup crew for the crash. We’ll have double his usual fee ready by the time he’s here.” Toby waited until Gemma pulled out her phone and trotted away, then turned to Juliet and Moe. “Go and help Seth bag the survivors. He can hole them up in one of the holdups downstairs until they leave- after he pays another 5k for it. If he wants to start roughing them up here, then he’ll need to pay extra.”

“You don’t want us to keep one for our own questioning?” Juliet asked.

Toby shook his head. “No need. We’re washing our hands of this after tonight. Let the Neverra’s clean it up now.”

Moe scratched the bottom of his chin, shifting the gun strapped on his shoulder. “What about that sniper they had?”

“Sniper?” 

“Yeah- the one with the bad aim. The fucking dunce took out half their own guys instead of you.”

Toby looked back at the string of dead demons down the street and frowned. In the heat of the moment, he had completely forgotten. “I’ll take care of it. You just get Neverra in the building and help Seth, got it?”

Juliet and Moe nodded before they plodded past Toby. He waited until they were engaged with Seth to turn around and face the buildings opposite Ember’s Lounge. Shops and food places occupied most of the ground level suites of these buildings, while the upper tiers were a hodgepodge of rented space and vacant units. The building exactly opposite the club stood completely derelict, however, since the candle shop on the ground level had gone out of business.

Toby watched from the front entrance, his arms crossed over his broad chest, as an approaching group of women’s laughter was cut short when one of them glanced up at him and then the sign. She took in a breath and the color drained from her pale pink face. She pushed on her friend’s arm and hastily guided them all out into the guttering traffic in order to cross the street. The area cleared again until a pair in business suits, engrossed in conversation, made a similar mistake. Toby narrowed a glare at them as they passed, lashing his tail, and the closer of the two stumbled into the other, who raised an ignorant brow at Toby before his friend tugged him quickly along, reviving the blessed void again.

Although the sidewalk remained empty now, soon the dormant rows of lightbulbs on the marquee would buzz to life after the sun set, and then area would be packed with the club’s usual clientèle before the club’s official opening hour. The wealthiest citizens from Levont along with travelers from their own duchy and those surrounding them would press together in a tight line, all eager to indulge in the club’s decadent entertainment. The more lucrative clients booked exclusive services for which the Brancato family was uniquely qualified. These included introductions to potential business partners among the less publicized entrepreneurs of the duchy, as well as mediators who were skilled in smoothing discreet deals between two or more interested parties. 

The plan called for this meeting to take place well before the crowds of prying eyes and ears would appear for the night. Technically, there was still plenty of time, but this did little to lessen the tension in Toby’s jaw. He squinted down the street again and hoped that maybe, just maybe, the lookout team he had placed two streets over had messed up. Maybe they’d missed their mark, and any second now the sleek surface of the human-made Rolls-Royce that he, and every criminal in their city, knew well would appear around the bend. As Toby watched, however, the sun drew closer to the horizon and still the car did not appear.

Toby exhaled the breath he hadn’t realized he had been holding and accepted the hard truth. It was official; that bastard Brady Neverra was late… and Toby shuddered to imagine the implications behind that fact.

One of the double glass doors behind Toby clanged open, and he looked over his shoulder to find his only elder sibling, Claire, had appeared. She glided on heels under the arched lighting that bowed over the top of the broad concrete steps. Her fitted black dress under the white blazer was fluid with her movements, and she stopped at the top of the stairs as she placed a hand on her hip, a silver-chained bracelet bumping against her crimson wrist. She looked down at Toby with a reserved expression, searching him over with a silent thoroughness that made him shift on his feet, unconsciously taking his shoulder out of her direct line of sight.

“Don’t look at me like that,” he grumbled.

Claire tilted her head, breaking free more loose white strands of hair to fall blithely on her forehead from the high bun she wore between her horns. Their mother criticized her every time she wore it that way. Claire, though, always did what she wanted, heedless of the Brancato boss’s complaints.

“Like what, exactly?” She asked mildly.

“Like I’m just another mark in one of your deals. If you want something, then just say it.”

“Fine, then.” Claire rolled her eyes and descended the steps to join Toby. She pressed her hands against her face and leaned in close to him. Her eyes grew comically wide above a dramatic, trembling lower lip, and her tone turned childish, full of a melodramatic lilt. “I just wanted to see if my brother was alright after such a nasty attack by the bad people.”

“Ugh.” Toby planted his palm on her forehead and gently pushed her away. He ignored the stifled snickers of the bouncers huddled at the side of the entrance. “I changed my mind, go back to being a silent bitch- and I’m just fine, by the way.”

Claire laughed softly and her tail waved behind her. She straightened again, her expression along with it, as she folded her arms. She turned her gaze out toward the street, her eyes turned over the passersby and settled on each of Toby’s undercover staff. They sat at various benches and outdoor tables strewn amongst the various cafes. “I thought the chatter said it was just some small-time anti-smuggling group, right? You walloped their attempt on Marsel earlier. Seems hardly a threat worth this much trouble.”

Toby shrugged, but Claire’s eyes caught on him anyway with a narrowed look. He sighed and resigned himself to revealing more for her. “They’ve developed into a more organized group in a short amount of time, somehow. Gives a bit more teeth to their little mission.”

“To rid the scourge of human-created imports poisoning our world?” Claire asked in a mocking tone. When Toby nodded, her brows furrowed with concern and her frown deepened. “But they’ve always been more focused on just legal imports, right? They wouldn’t dare do more than some petty attacks on us.”

Toby could read her thoughts and sense her growing fear. Even before its founding days, the duchy of Vernon held an unusually high number of naturally generated gates birthed from and fed by the strong forks of ethereal streams that ran through their lands. They required little to no upkeep from casters, and so even commoners were able to utilize gates that they controlled through brute force. Coupled with the deeply corrupted nobility of their land, commoners held higher status than most other of the demonic duchies. If the Sacred Sentinel aimed to truly eliminate human importation of all kinds, not just the government-sanctioned trade, then they would inevitably come into conflict not just the duchy of Levont’s mafia families, but all those in Vernon.

Toby became more aware of the street again. A car parked on the opposite side, and Toby tensed. He only relaxed when a demon climbed out and strolled toward a nearby cafe. “They’ve only committed a few burglaries and vandalism here and there, nothing notable until now. They were probably just testing their limits with the attack earlier. Our team will handle anything else they have planned.”

The narrowed bend of her eyes bore into him just as intensely as their mother, and Toby saw the suspicious doubt behind them. The tight coil in his chest that he had kept in check up until now painfully twisted under her scrutiny. His mouth set in a hard line, and a fear tightened her eyes. She glanced uneasily around them and asked in a rare, frail voice, “Is that the truth, Toby?”

Toby fiercely maintained his impassive expression, although the effort almost made him shake. He opened his mouth, but before he could find the words to speak, one of the front doors breezed open again. Toby’s mouth clamped and Claire relaxed into her usual, relaxed manner as their nephew, Arthur, stepped outside. His attention was fully locked on his phone as he blindly made his way to them. He scrolled and typed with a reckless abandon that made Toby want to lurch forward and spot-check him.

Arthur was lithely built teenager who stood a good head shorter than them still, although Toby suspected the teen would hit another growth spurt soon and then they’d be equals in height. Toby had vivid memories of Arthur as a child wandering around the club in extravagant clothes that no toddler had any right to wear. This had been no surprise to Toby. His sister Diane, stage manager of Ember’s Lounge, would never allow any son of hers to waddle around in anything but the finest that Norman’s salary could afford. Arthur grew up with the finest of fashion tastes, and he expertly deployed it especially this evening.

Flashy new button cuffs and a golden diamond-studded watch completed his perfectly tailored pinstriped, gray suit. Other bits and bobs complemented the outfit, all purchased with money from a heist job last week that he had pulled off with his father two cities over. Flashes of his scarlet skin peeked through at the wrists and neckline of the suit, revealing youthful skin unblemished by the scarring that Toby and his father, Norman, shared.

After a final round of furious typing, Arthur slipped the phone into his pants’ pocket and glanced at the street with a frown that drove wrinkles into the corners of his handsome face. “Gran sent me to check- they’re still not here yet?” When Toby shook his head, Arthur’s eyes grew thoughtful. He then went through a meticulous cycle of patting down first every fold of his suit jacket and then gingerly touching against his long, ivory hair he had clipped primly into shape at the nape of his neck with a golden clip that reflected the light every so often with his movements. “What does that mean?”

“A lot of things,” Claire answered breezily. “Traffic could be bad, or they’re just plain fucking us over. Knowing Brady, though, he stopped to snort some coke off a random hooker’s tits.”

Arthur studied his aunt with a disgusted crinkle of his nose. “Those damn Neverra’s. Pa says they’re always bringing more trouble than they’re worth. They’re the ones who started the murders in the first place, anyway. Gran should’ve just turned them both away and forgotten about the money.”

“This meeting needs to happen,” Toby lied firmly. The entire evening hitched on the already precarious venture of mending the relations between the Marsel and Neverra factions. Now with the added danger posed by the SS, Toby couldn’t afford fractures of doubt within their own family. He pressed on, leveling Arthur with a stolid stare. “They can’t keep taking their fighting to the streets and dragging the whole city with them as collateral.”

“As well as slicing up random victims and leaving the bloody shells of their carcasses lying around?” Arthur asked, raising his brow sardonically. He pulled out his phone again, his thumb working over its surface casually. “They say the bodies were carved out- like something had eaten on them.”

“Oh?” Claire asked. To her credit, she managed to keep her tone even, although Toby could see her swallow hard before she attempted to brush off the topic. “I didn’t pay attention, really. I just assumed someone in the Neverra’s group had fucked the wrong Marsel daughter and got slaughtered over it. Hell of a reason to start a war like this over.”

“But it was more than one murder, and both groups had members killed- here, look.”

Before she could stop him, Arthur held up a picture that made Claire’s entire face twist up in disgust. She held up her arm defensively and turned away. “Ugh- gross! Get that away from me!”

“My friend Jimmy posted this. He was there when they found it. The Marsel’s ordered the first bombing after this one.”

Arthur turned the phone towards Toby next. He glanced at the putrid image of a demon that, indeed, had his insides ripped out, but he paused before he turned his attention back to the streets. He scrutinized the picture again and furrowed his brows. The sight of the eviscerated demon itself unaffected him, but the oddness of the picture gave him pause.

“They all were like this?” Toby asked suddenly.

“Yeah,” Arthur replied, returning his phone to his pocket. “There’s, like… eight now? More were found in the Neverra territory. A few were actually near here.”

“Something up, Toby?” Claire asked, a new apprehensive look on her face.

“There’s almost no mess left behind… like something completely licked it clean after eating the insides.” Toby rubbed his chin absently in thought.

“Well, thanks for that, Toby. I’ll sleep very well tonight after I take a few pills to flush my head of you both.”

Arthur ignored Claire’s comment and observed Toby for a long while before he asked, “Do you have any ideas, Uncle Toby?”

“There are plenty of explanations and possibilities that fit the killings. There could be someone working a personal vendetta who is somehow pulling off these killings, a cannibal working the area, or any number of things,” Toby said with a shrug. “But the truth doesn’t matter to us. Our goal is only to broker a deal tonight that stops their fighting.”

“Could a hellbeast be responsible?”

Both Toby and Claire whirled on Arthur with glares, but Claire spoke first. “Be silent. We’ll all be damned if word got to Mal that you even suggested that she’d allow such a thing.”

Arthur cooled but held a bit of fired glow in his eyes. “Oh, come on, Aunt Claire. It isn’t that impossible to imagine, is it? Mal is just a bastard child who was shoved into our city’s magistrate position out of nepotism. Everyone knows she isn’t a powerful enough caster to ward against any of the Devil’s Brood herself. It’s all over the internet.”

Toby exchanged a look with Claire. A throb began to develop in his head as he gave the possibility the briefest of consideration. He had seen similar corpses when he served on the frontlines of the Third Reclamation Wave, but he quickly dismissed the thought and then focused back on Arthur. “And how many of those posters are still alive and well the next day? You better not be making any posts like that-”

“Of course not!” Arthur protested hotly. “But some of what’s posted makes sense…”

“It’d be too much trouble with little benefit for the Devil’s Brood to try anything here. They’re too far away for such an incursion to be worthwhile. Even fallen angels have limits.”

“There’s plenty of benefit, with all the gates we have—"

“That’s enough,” Claire interrupted, snapping her tail. “Even if there is a hellbeast somehow roaming around here, Mal has her own force to handle such things, who are more capable than you youngsters seem to believe.”

“There’s no reason for us to both speculating, Arthur,” Toby added, softening his tone slightly to soothe the bristling teen. “Tonight we need to focus on giving the Marsel’s and Neverra’s every reason to reconcile with each other. Let them deal with whoever the killer actually is- and if it dares to come into our territory, then I’ll slaughter it with my bare hands, beast or not.”

The words passed over Arthur with small effect. The teen looked back at Toby with an unsatisfied pout until Claire rubbed her hand over his head, mussing up his carefully maintained locks between his horns. She grinned wickedly as she hopped back from his swatting hands.

Claire’s confident smile returned as she tilted her head at Arthur, her hand on her hip. “Now don’t look so bitterly at your Uncle Toby. Remember we each have a role to fill here. Your ma handles the show, your pa keeps Gran safe, and eventually you will help me handle our clients. Tonight, you just need to watch me and learn. Leave your uncle here to do his job, which is protecting us.” She paused and playfully tugged on one of Arthur’s horns. “Even if it’s from ourselves and our own curiosity.”

Arthur glowered as he smacked away Claire’s hands again. He frantically ran his hands over his hair, artfully ignoring their presence for a moment, before he settled with a huff. He eventually nodded, but his eyes took on a cloudy look of deep thought that Toby didn’t like. He chose to ignore it, fearing that if he pressed further he’d only fuel the teen more. Instead, he turned on his radio and requested check-in’s from each of his teams.

Toby waited for his different groups and pairs of soldiers to radio back to him the clear. All went smoothly until the third group’s leader crackled onto the channel with a curse. “No; Russ said he wanted a fucking ice cream cone ages ago and hasn’t come back.”

Toby ignored Claire’s pointed look and lash of her tail. He replied to the radio, “Just carry on without him.”

A/N: I never thought I’d see the day when I’d be posting my fictional stories onto my blogs again, but here we are, haha. Over the last year and a half, I have gotten back into writing fiction. It all started with a series of RP’s I co-wrote with Mae. I fell in love with the characters and scenarios we created together, so much so that I gathered enough courage (or insanity, really) to experiment with a longer writing project. After I started the project, the characters and story expanded into a world all their own that shifted beyond our RP’s original premise/setting.

This story is a pure, self-indulgent endeavor. I mashed together a handful of my favorite interests with the bumbling, inconsistent skill only a novice writer can aptly provide, and this is the result. I enjoy this hot mess enough that I’d like to inflict it upon my blogs, haha. Thank you to anyone who gives this story a chance!

--

Chapter One, Toby Brancato -- 2.2k

The billowing smoke from Toby’s cigarette lumbered through the air around him and lingered in a domed cloud for a moment, briefly casting a curtained haze over the street map of Belle Avenue and the rest of Levont’s northern district. He hunched further over his desk and, yet again, squinted at the broad intersection he had circled two streets down. He tapped the marker in his hand incessantly against the table’s surface and chewed on his lip, his spaded tail swiping shadows as it swayed low at his feet. His mind agonizingly caught on the same mystery over and over again. There had been absolutely no chatter about suspicious activity of any kind from their usual sources leading up to this evening. Regardless, Toby had set up contingencies in addition to his usual preparations for meditation meetings to afford unforeseen attacks such as this and yet… somehow the SS managed an ambush deep in their own territory.

Toby ran a hand over his forehead and then through his cropped hair, absently tucking loose, white locks against the base of his onyx horns and under their low, parallel arc against his scalp. His surroundings in his office, along with the unsettled buzz from his anxious top officers, faded from his awareness as he funneled his attention on the updated map. He viciously shepherded away any nagging thoughts away from an endless rerun of his actions prior to this week, desperate to uncover whatever mistake he had made or detail missed. He kept his eyes glued to the map and stacks of papers on his desktop and forced himself to memorize the details of their updated plans based on the limited intel they were able to gather from the captured SS.

Over the din created by multiple, separate conversations in the tight office space, Toby picked out Juliet’s voice wrapping up the phone call. He straightened from his desk in a snapped movement that pulled on the line of hasty stitches holding together the fresh gash in his bicep. He gritted his teeth around the cigarette, nearly breaking it with one of his fangs, and instinctively pressed against the wound. He ignored the spots of blood he pulled back on his fingers, almost as deeply scarlet as his own skin, and eyed Juliet. His second in command sat opposite him on the other side of the desk, her elbows propped on the surface and wiry tail languidly draped over the side. His heart skipped a beat when she frowned at him.

Juliet shook her head as she lowered the phone. The rolled-up sleeves of her blouse revealed the few injuries she had acquired from the earlier ambush. They were bandaged with gauze and white tape that wound tightly around her lavender skin. A similar set of wrappings circled around her forehead and violet hair just under her tan, branched horns. Her eyes lowered and she said, “The third truck is in the warehouse, but… Lynne’s crew used the truck last week on their monthly gate-run, and it’s still filled with goods they haven’t off-loaded yet. We can’t use it.”

A muted quiet fell in the room over Juliet’s confirmation that their final truck was unavailable. Toby’s mind raced with guilt as all the eyes of his staff turned on him. He leaned on both his hands on top of the map and scanned over it again. The map depicted Ember’s Lounge on the eastern side of Belle’s Avenue as just another inconspicuous rectangle among stacks of other buildings camped together alongside the serpentine Nocturne River that ran through Levont. Toby used it as a starting point to run his finger up the street, tracing the planned route that Brady Neverra would take shortly, and stopped abruptly over the large question mark he had drawn. He had wanted to get more out of the SS they had dragged from the ambush earlier, but the demon died prematurely under their questioning methods. They only knew the basics of the Sacred Sentinel’s next attack, and it unnerved Toby just as much as it did his security staff.

Regardless, Toby kept his expression neutral when he looked back up at Juliet. “We’ll have to use the van, then.”

“Is it large enough for what we need?” Juliet asked incredulously.

“No.” Toby rubbed the back of his neck with a sigh. “But it’ll have to do.”

Juliet nodded as she crossed her arms. Her tail twitched, betraying her own uneasiness. “I guess any kind of vehicle would be enough to at least be of some help.”

“Since the van won’t cause as much damage as we want, we’ll need extra firepower on the ground. Move the teams from 5th and 6th street to here.” Toby waved his officers forward and pointed towards the location on the map. “We’ll keep the van at this alley until it’s time to slam it into the intersection.”

“We’re spreading ourselves even thinner,” Juliet warned in a low voice. She grew quiet for a moment and watched Toby carefully before she ventured the question that plagued them all. “Is this really going to work, Toby? Things are different with the SS involved now, and so organized, apparently… I mean, we at least got Marsel here, but we’re pushing it to get Neverra safely through the doors. Shouldn’t we tell Sybille to call this whole meeting off? She won’t want to risk everyone here tonight for this, right? I mean, this isn’t even our beef to begin with.”

They all looked at him again, clearly in quiet agreement with Juliet’s words. Toby had already made the resolute decision earlier that he wouldn’t tell them he had already met with his mother. Just after the SS died under Verity’s careful, insistent interrogation, Toby had intercepted her in the halls. He had explained to her the increased risks and firmly suggested they cancel the mediation between the Marsel and Neverra factions tonight. Sybille Brancato had at least waited until he finished to narrow a glare at him, the amber lambent of her eyes practically flaming in the dark shadows of the hall, then promptly refused. They were far too invested in this enterprise now to abandon it now. Then she glided past him into the lounge of her club to join Ernest Marsel and his bloodied contingent of guards and officers without another word.

“We’re making this work,” Toby said brusquely, meeting each of his officer’s gazes stolidly. “We’re going to fucking make this work because we’re the most capable fighters on this side of Vernon, and I wouldn’t trust my family with anyone else except you assholes.”

Juliet grinned, her eyes wrinkling into lavender folds. “Fine, Toby, fine—"

“Wait, you just need something big enough to block that intersection, right?” Moe suddenly asked.

Toby nodded at the burly cobalt demon, who dwarfed even Toby in size. He leaned over the map, blocking most of its surface with his broad frame, and studied it intently. He rarely offered input on assignment details, and Toby waited patiently while he considered the intersection in question. Moe worked the streets more often than the club, and the years of dirty fighting showed most prominently on the cracked chips of his horns. Toby strained to look over them and find whatever had caught the demon’s eyes. After a moment, Moe’s eyes flashed and he looked at Toby with a toothy grin. Moe pointed at a series of stores two streets down. “Ole Tami has her own moving truck for the furniture she sells in her shop. I’m sure we could convince her to loan us the truck on short notice.”

“I wouldn’t call it a ‘loan’ when we don’t intend to return it to her in one piece.” Juliet barked a laugh.

Moe gave a shrug. “I’m sure she has good insurance on it.”

Toby rubbed his chin and tried to recall the exact appearance and size of the truck. All his memories came back with the same conclusion. He nodded at Moe and said, “She’s also coming up due on the ten grand she owes us. Send some of your men and use that to barter with. We’ll keep the 5th and 6th street teams in their original positions for now.”

They finalized the remaining details quickly and Moe filed out with the others to start on the numerous tasks that needed attention in a short amount of time, leaving only Toby and Juliet. They looked over the map for a final sweep; even though the plan was still risky and based on limited intel, Toby felt a small kernel of hope in his tight chest. He glanced at his watch and took a step back from his desk.

Juliet readjusted the sleeves of her blouse and raised a brow at Toby. “Where are you going? There’s still time before you need to get Claire.”

“I’m going to do one more sweep,” he answered simply as he stepped around the desk.

“Aren’t you forgetting something?” Juliet pointed derisively at his blood-stained and torn button-down shirt.

Toby frowned as he helplessly looked down at himself, bewildered at yet one more task that kept him from his other duties. He pinched a fold of his ruined shirt between his fingers, frowning, and he remembered with a start that Russ was bringing him a change of clothes from home. His eyes lit and he eagerly rounded on the couch of his office, expecting to see Russ’s bright presence there. When he found only the spare clothes draped over the couch’s arm rest without any sign of his husband, however, his heart sank as his frown deepened.

From behind him, Juliet slid the creaking chair back and stood. “He stayed for awhile, and then he told me that you looked too busy. So he left the clothes and went back to his team outside. He also made me promise to tell you that it’s going to get cold later, and he will shoot your ass if you don’t wear the coat.”

Toby swallowed back the lump in his throat and felt a sourness fill his stomach. He stalked to the couch, his steps forced, and picked up the heavy canvas coat. He clutched it in his hands for a moment, regretting the cold emptiness of Russ’s absence, and examined the worn fabric with a brush of his fingers until he felt something out of place. He dug into the inside pocket and found a thin stack of familiar, glossy photographs from Russ’s personal portfolio.

Toby dropped the coat onto the couch and thumbed through them with a faint smile on his face. Russ’s portfolio included scenery from his exhaustive travels around all the demonic duchies. The collection held mountains, some snowy and others pure green, islands with enticing pearly beaches, an array of architectural marvels inspired by either pure demon heritage or drawn from human cultural influence brought through local gates, as well as many other remarkable sights.  While the photographs always mystified Toby, it was Russ’s jubilant grin whenever he shoved pictures into his hands that enticed him most.

Juliet, suddenly at his side, whistled low. “Damn- actual, old-school pictures? I thought even photographers like Russ only did digital now.”

The top picture showed a lakeside cabin and dock, dusted with a thin layer of snow, below a cloudy sky. Toby stared absently at it as a coldness settled in him that matched the scene, and he found himself speaking to break himself away from it. “These are from somewhere north in Farfield, according to him.”

“Oh, I see.” Juliet looked from the photograph to Toby and back again. “Russ still trying to convince you to fly away with him off to distant duchies? I told you so. Flame demons are so flighty, they only stay in one place long enough to burn themselves out and then they have to move on.”

“That’s not it at all.” Toby sighed and spread the photographs on the small coffee table that sat in front of the couch. He lingered, studying them just as carefully as he had the street map, and then he reached for the pile of fresh clothes. “Next year, maybe, once Ma is done with this mess and settles down again.”

Juliet’s mirth evaporated and her expression became downcast. She turned on her heel, her tail flowing like a pendulous willow branch behind her, and headed for the door. She offered a forlorn smile over her shoulder and said, “We both know that your Ma is only just getting started, Toby. Things aren’t settling down for us any time soon. Just be careful… if you make him wait too long, you might wake up one morning and find he’s left without you.”

~Noteworthy Vocab~

Glibly - Adv; (of words or the person speaking them) fluent and voluble but insincere and shallow “‘No,’ he replied lightly, glibly, as if the admission meant nothing at all to him.” -Dragon Haven by Robin Hobb

Beggared - verb; reduced to poverty “If he hadn’t, he would have been as beggared as the rest of them.” -Dragon Haven by Robin Hobb

Sardonically - adv; grimly mocking or cynical “Hest looked out at both of them, sardonically pleased at the mess he had made of their lives, at the friendship of years that was now crumbling away at his touch.” -Dragon Haven by Robin Hobb

~Reading Highlights~

The words came out so easily. Then they hung, irrevocable and unmistakable, in the silent air of the room. All turned to stillness. -Dragon Haven by Robin Hobb

The confession that I have been waiting for since the first book! I won’t get into detail too much for reason of spoilers, though. I prefer Hobb as an author because she cultivates a conflict/subplot through evolving stages in a novel instead of stagnating on the original conception of the conflict from start to finish. I prefer stories where the conflicts naturally grow along with the characters and situations, and while I enjoy a good plotline with a secret at its core, I can lose interest quickly. The solution to this type of conflict just seems so basic and obvious to me, as it almost always simply boils down to the secret being revealed. I find the confrontation of the revelation and its fallout so much more interesting than a character whose sole, primary motivation through an entire story is simply harboring the secret. Nothing wrong with a story’s central conflict being a secret kept… just not usually my favorite unless I really enjoy the characters themselves. The character in this excerpt is one of many with dangerous secrets, and I was so enthralled when everything he/she hid were almost completely and finally addressed in these recent chapters! Hobb had spent a book and half building up to this moment and the ones following, and she perfectly captured all the emotions of the characters in the fallout of it. This week of delicious reading was worth the wait~

~Project Journal~

Word Count: 5,675 - Don’t be fooled by the number, almost all of that word count ended up being absolute junk. I had a rough, disheartening week of writing. I tried starting a little fic that ties into the ending of the RP that Mae and I had just finished writing, but I could not get the start of it right for the life of me, and my stupid, nitpicking brain will not let it go. I also get so anxious when I don’t make much progress on a project for an entire week because I feel like I’m wasting precious time, which I know did not help with my creative output, haha. This morning I had a bit of a breakthrough, so I’m very much hoping it was just burnout or something holding me back.

Tidbit from a WIP:

The intricately entwined swirls of brass, sculpted with utmost artistry and craftsmanship to emote the bundles of a tumbling wave, somehow felt colder than usual under Harlan’s touch. The door, constructed like all the others of the Calabran manor with heavy oak that was delicately carved with extravagant sea motifs, seemed heavier as he nudged it open, bracing against it with the whole side of his body because he was simply too weary to step inside upright and orderly. The bedroom, as he expected, was empty and lonesome without its owner to lighten it- or darken it, depending on the stormy tempers and moods of Sydin Calabran.

~Noteworthy Vocab~

Limned - V; Suffuse or highlight with a bright color or light “Lecter stalked past them, the spines on his neck and back clearly limned against the fire’s light.” + “Alise peered out, limned against a faint candle glow.” -Dragon Haven by Robin Hobb

Acrimonious - Adj; (typically of speech or a debate) Angry and bitter “Her father was approaching an acrimonious, fatal parting of the ways with his closest friend and adviser, Alvara de Luna, a man who was both brilliant and ruthless.” -Isabella by Kristin Downey

Paroxysm - N; A sudden attack or violent expression of a particular emotion or activity “He’d seen Hest in a paroxysm of joy over closing a rich deal, and he’d witnessed his father drunkenly celebrating a partnership in a trading trip.” -Dragon Haven by Robin Hobb

~Reading Highlights~

The hunter’s head swiveled back to regard Sedric skeptically. His eyes wandered over Sedric, his bruised face and battered condition, assigning new meaning to what he saw. Sedric felt his muscles tighten as he face that gaze, fearing that soon it would turn to judgment and condemnation. Instead, he saw disbelief slowly become admiring amazement. -Dragon Haven by Robin Hobb

One of my absolute favorite scenes in this book is when Carson finds Sedric and Relpda on the river. This scene progresses so beautifully well. The balance between the comfort, tension, and letdowns vibe just right with me. Admittedly, I very much enjoy when characters receive a beating (both physical and emotional) and then find ways to cope with it afterwards. My absolute favorite version of this scenario is when a friend/loved one discovers the situation, is first horrified and furious over it all, and then tries to comfort them… and I’ve found Hobb often delivers, which is one more reason why I enjoy her books, haha. PS - I used the “romantic week” title a little too soon, haha, because ALL my favorite romances in Dragon Haven approached varying levels of apexes this week.

——

“From a far-off distance from the chaos of the portside, pressed tight against a shadowed wall of an alleyway, Tager watched the continuous scene unfold with a raised brow, a new cigarette locked tight between his lips as he breathed in the sweet taste of nicotine into his lungs. Behind him, a grumble could be heard, his glowing eyes turned to face one of Lady Talia’s patrons, Melton Grady, who was currently tossed against a nearby dumpster by two goons. Tager observed the imp with a heightened growl before he turned to the scuffle completely, strolling over as his tail lashed out behind him.” - Written by Mae, from the latest RP we just finished!

Mae and I wrapped up our largest RP to date this past week! I have absolutely loved writing this one, and I’m equally sad and happy that we have finished it. There are many excerpts from Mae’s writing I wanted to pull, but I had to do this one because I just absolutely adore Tager. He’s only made cameo appearances, but I love this brutal guy already.

~Project Journal~

Word Count: 1,911

Tidbit from a WIP: The antidote to his paralysis came from an unexpected source. Just as soon as the question left Kade, Harlan looked at his friend in abject disgust and horror. He glanced over to where Jakin marshalled his own staff across the way, and then his scowl shifted into a frown. The demon looked just as weary as Harlan felt, and then he suddenly remembered Jakin’s bumbling attempts to console him right after the meeting with Talia last night. He had been so swept up in his own spiral that Harlan hadn’t noticed it. He also realized with a start that it was Jakin who interceded this morning as well. Despite himself, his mind conjured forth half a dozen other times Jakin had been a surprisingly good coworker and leader.

~Noteworthy Vocab~

Sluice - n; an act of rinsing or showering with water “ He knelt and thrust his hand down through the matted debris and into the river water to sluice it off.” -Dragon Haven by Robin Hobb

Surreptitiously - adv; kept secret, especially because it would not be approved of “ She glanced at Tats surreptitiously.” -Dragon Haven by Robin Hobb

Officious - adj; assertive of authority in an annoyingly domineering way, especially with regard to petty or trivial matters “Greft’s officious voice was an unwelcome distraction.” + “If he wanted to be mysterious and officious, then she could be obtuse.” -Dragon Haven by Robin Hobb (Greft is very often described this way, haha)

~Reading Highlights~

“She was meeting his gaze now. A trick of the light moved stars in his dark eyes. He nodded at her slowly. ‘That’s enough. For now.'” -Dragon Haven by Robin Hobb

One of my favorite pairings making progress together after a book and half- no big deal or anything, except that it super was because of how long it took them to get to this point. Needless to say, if either of these two characters were even a little bit officious towards their budding relationship, then it might have moved a bit faster. I’m an impatient person, so slow-burn romantic subplots are a challenge for me, but I do love when it comes together just right and makes the wait worthwhile. Anyway- I loved this little moment with all its neat morsels of description.

—— “So, heaving a deep sigh, Kade pushed off from the railing and made his way into the area where everyone was resting from today’s events. Mable’s gaze caught his eye and he offered a smile to her, a silent thank you for all her help…and to ensure her that everything was ok now. The Calabrans would see to that. Russett shot him a look as well, yet he very clearly chose to ignore him. He wasn’t willing to forgive this imp just yet for the harm he caused them…regardless of Pearl’s feelings on the matter. And speaking of Pearl, her wide gaze lifted at his approach, yet that smile she had for her brother earlier had evened to a thin line. Shit…she wasn’t happy with him at all…

Carefully, he settled in the seat next to her, his tail lashing against his foot as he thought of how to approach this discussion. His mouth opened to speak, yet nothing came out and he felt himself grow more frustrated with himself. Now was not the time to be scared. He had to fight for what was most important to him…he had to show Pearl how he felt…” -from the RP Mae and I have been working on~

Speaking of favorite pairs making progress together… This is from a recent reply from Mae in the RP we’re about to wrap up! This scene centers on Kade and Pearl as they try to get back on the same page. They’re biggest struggle right now centers on them having to keep their surreptitiously under wraps. I’ve been loving their up’s and down’s in this RP, and I was so relieved that they were able to somewhat mend the last down. There were lots of other excerpts I wanted to pull besides this one, but they would have been too riddled with spoilers, unfortunately. Needless to say, Mae brought her A-game and wrote some beautiful scenes in the last week! Click here for her writing blog!

~Project Journal~

Word Count: 1,909; I cringed as I typed that, ugh. I caught a cold that laid me pretty low most of this past week, so I didn’t get nearly as much writing done as I wanted to. Here’s hoping I am healed up and healthy now so this next week will be more on-track.

Tidbit from a WIP: “Under Pearl’s stare, Mable found a familiar masked smile climbing on her face that covered the true depth of her inner turmoil perfectly. She glanced at the pillar of smoke that marked The Ashton’s current location far behind them and then sighed heavily. Undeniably a piece of her heart had been pulled from her and remained in Talia’s thrall back aboard that ship, and the pain of the separation hadn’t yet fully sunk in. It would come in time, she knew, but she planned on working through that heartache on her own terms. For now, she eased back from Pearl and flicked a lock of hair over her shoulder with a dramatic flair.

‘Oh, I’ll be alright,’ she murmured lightly. ‘It’s just back to square one again for me. I’ve been fired before and climbed back up to the top, after-all. It’s no big deal. Once we’re back on shore I’ll get my feet back under me lickity-split!’”

~Noteworthy Vocab~

Clarion - adj; a shrill, narrow-tubed war trumpet “ She heard Sintara’s clear clarion all, and Mercor’s bull bellow.” -Dragon Haven by Robin Hobb

Vacillate - verb; alternate or waver between different opinions or actions; be indecisive “ The way her feelings about him vacillated bothered her more than her actual emotions.” -Dragon Haven by Robin Hobb

Bridle - intrans; show one’s resentment or anger, especially by throwing up the head and drawing in the chin “ ‘Perhaps later,’ he said, and Thymara saw Alise bridle.” -Dragon Haven by Robin Hobb

~Reading Highlights~

“Carefully, she lifted the chain and puddled it in a golden coil around the closed locket.” -Dragon Haven by Robin Hobb

I absolutely loved this image that wrapped up this particular scene in the book… such a concrete action that reveals quite a lot about these characters. Normally I prefer romance plotlines to be more definitive. Either the characters are together or they’re not. I get frustrated when a pair’s relationship takes too long to be acknowledged. I’d rather see the pair face the trials and tribulations of a main plot testing the limits of their relationship, or just being a support to each other through it all, as opposed to an ebb and flow of will-they/won’t they. Not to say there’s anything wrong at all with those kinds of plotlines… I am just too impatient a person to handle them, haha. My world is already unstable enough, I’d rather read about a couple who are a securely devoted to each other through the book’s journey… even if they eventually fall out of love.

Anyway- all that to say, I would normally not be so interested in the kind of romantic plot Alise undertakes. I can’t go into many details without spoilers, so I’ll summarize it to say that the complexity of her situation gives a bit more credence to solidify her hesitance. Without the layers, I definitely would be rushing through these scenes without much attachment. But also, her love interest… just chef’s kiss. Definitely one of my favorite characters in the books, and I want them to be together and be the ultimate power couple on the Rain Wilds river.

——

“Lena stopped cleaning the dishes and put her arms around Thrace, pulling her close. Hadrian noticed lines on the woman’s face he had not seen previously. The two stood before the bucket of dirty water and silently cried together.” -Theft of Swords by Michael Sullivan

I get so longwinded in my own writing that I forget sometimes stating an emotional action simply can be the best method to deliver the intent. Sullivan often has this kind of efficient description in his novels that can deliver a punch with few words.

~Project Journal~

Word Count: 4,165

Tidbit From a WIP: This was another busy and tiring week (very much hoping it calms down after this), so I didn’t have much time and energy for my personal writing projects. Even though it was hectic, I somehow managed to churn out a reply that I really liked to the RP/story I’m co-writing with Mae. Now, the rest of my replies this past week were garbage (sorry Mae!), but I thought this one turned out ok at least, haha. This takes place right before they manage to get their injured comrade off the pirate-infested boat.

--

“Pearl, I need you-!” Harlan broke off his words midsentence as he looked to Pearl. Her attention was directed elsewhere, a wide look in her eyes and her hands suddenly limp against Barlow’s arm. Harlan craned his neck behind them and cursed under his breath as he took in Kade.

At his friend’s feet were the desecrated remains of their foe, pulverized past the point of recognition. More pirates made appearances from behind doors and even above them, peeking their heads over the railing. Kade glowered at them all, his eyes blazing wildly. To his back was his princess; an innocent creature thrown into the brutal world that shaped Kade and fueled this brutal rage with the coldest dread that she might be lost to it. Pearl had known those hands gripping that bloody axe to be gentle, soft… and Harlan wagered she had never imagined what Kade was truly capable of when her life was on the line. The look of bewildered shock in her expression sent a harsh chill down his spine, and the tragedy of it- that his love for her inspired such terror within himself that he would kill so ferociously for her- hurt his chest.

“Kade!” Harlan shouted with all the force of his lungs. “We have to go- get over here!”

~Noteworthy Vocab~

Carouse - verb; drink plentiful amounts of alcohol and enjoy oneself with others in a noisy, lively way “In the respectable hill district of Colnora, people were more inclined to sleep at night than to carouse in taverns.” -Theft of Swords by Michael Sullivan

Athwart - preposition; from side to side of; across “He’d fallen from her jaws athwart a couple of floating logs and started to slip between them.” -Dragon Haven by Robin Hobb

Venal - adjective; showing or motivated by susceptibility to bribery “In another coup, the Mob has become a perennial favorite theme for the entertainment industry, inspiring Hollywood and television to glamorize its venal history and humanize feral leaders like John Gotti.” -Five Families by Selwyn Raab

~Reading Highlights~

“Tucking the pig under one arm, he placed his hand to the side of her face and rubbed her cheek.” -Theft of Swords by Michael Sullivan

What can I say? Often my book highlights are not of grandiose prose because I prefer simple, honest action that relays layers of emotion underneath. That type of writing always makes the characters seem more relatable and human to me. Truth be told, it’s been a chore getting through rereading this part of the book, and I’m tempted to end my rereading venture into this series here in favor of just starting a book I haven’t read from Sullivan. While I find Thrace’s character much more interesting in later books, I am unmotivated to get through the background of her character in this book. I’m wondering if I’d be spending my time better on a new novel altogether.

——

“Sedric was already in motion, but he knew he’d never get there in time. He grabbed a stick floating in the water and flung it at ***. Not even close. The *** laughed aloud, then drew back the spear and plunged it into the dragon.” -Dragon Haven by Robin Hobb

I really intended to keep spoiler-laced highlights from here, but I just can’t resist this one because Sedric has finally stopped acting a complete fool. I marked out the name of the other character to help, at least. While I adore the progression of all the characters in this book, there are some characters’ arcs that I love more than others. Sedric is absolutely one of them. Up until now his personality and choices are more often than not detestable. I found his situation intriguing despite that, and I really enjoyed seeing little sparks of his better side come through here and there. Seeing his character begin to make lasting change and take a step forward was just the best for me. I enjoyed it the first time I read this book, and I’m loving it even more on this second read. I really can’t wait to finish this reread and start on the third book finally after all these years.

~Project Journal~ Word Count: 4,833

Tidbit From a WIP: -Again from that same cursed project, but still somehow enjoy writing: Drag Me Down. I have rewritten this scene so very many times this past two weeks, and I have finally just decided to slap something together and call it good for now until I revise the entire draft with the newest setting changes. Usually when I struggle this much with a scene it ultimately means that I scrap it, anyway. However, I am very much hoping that inspiration will hit by the time I get back to this part of the story. If not, then I’m a hopeless and much-too-tired fool, haha.

—

A deep, raspy sigh resonated from somewhere in the gloom beyond the light’s veil. “I knew it was only a matter of time before she was dragged in here like this, Toby. You should have known, too.”

Toby straightened from the bed slightly and wiped his eyes clear of lingering tears before he turned to Wren. Her eyes glowed with a hollow, golden luminescence in the dark that matched the weak, flickering lights above them. The middemon looked forever haggard and weary no matter what time of day, but Toby thought she sounded even more disappointed than usual and it stung him. Her wrinkled and sallow, yellow skin flashed at the wrist as she reached up to rub the back of her neck, a barbed frown piercing her expression.

They had whipped the car onto the curb of Dr. Wren Nicky’s practice with a furious screech. The nurse staffing the front office had peered out the glass walls with a look of disdain until she saw Toby Brancato exit the driver’s side. By the time Toby had carried Marie’s limp body into the lobby, Wren had appeared herself, still wearing her doctor’s coat and scrubs. The neutral, plaintive look she gave Marie had warned Toby from the start that the odds were not good.

“I did,” Toby finally replied. He retreated from Wren and faced his sister again. Her dormant features were just as painful to bear as Wren’s judgment, however.

~Noteworthy Vocab~

Inexorable - adjective; impossible to stop or prevent (Tiny, tiny bit spoiler-ish) “The churning mass of water carried her inexorably downriver.” -Dragon Haven by Robin Hobb

Dint - (phrase ‘by dint of’); by means of “By dint of effort he could sometimes block most of his awareness of her.” -Dragon Haven by Robin Hobb

Masticate - verb; chew (food) “He began a slow mastication, crushing and folding the rest of the animal in on itself.” -Dragon Haven by Robin Hobb

~Reading Highlights~ “Perhaps Sintara attempted to set her down beside Alise. But the effort failed, and Thymara fell on top of the Bingtown woman.” -Dragon Haven by Robin Hobb

The adjustment to my weekly schedule has consumed any reserve energy I have, and I had to limit my reading time a bit for extra sleep, unfortunately, so I didn’t get to read my normal variety of books. I stuck with Dragon Haven because I’m at one of my favorite parts of the Dragon Keeper books. Most of the building tension has erupted into straight conflict, and Hobb’s handling of each subplot is just perfection. Hobb’s efficient, engaging description is beautifully intriguing during passive scenes, and shines even brighter during her more active scenes. I have lots of highlights similar to the excerpt above for reference and inspiration. There are other excerpts I would have used here, but I settled on that excerpt because it is the least spoiler-ridden of them all.

~Project Journal~ Word Count: 3,379 - Much less this week because I had to take a few days off writing for sleep and trips.

Tidbit From a WIP: This excerpt comes from one of the scraped versions of a scene from a project I’ve been working on for a few months now called Drag Me Down. I have been stuck on this scene all week and rewritten it about four times now, but I like the overall idea behind this chunk of it. We’ll see if it makes the cut into the final draft after some heavy editing…

—

The toddler leaned half-heartedly into the crook of Russ’s arm that was wrapped around him. Harlan’s gaze warily shifted between Toby, the door Arthur had stomped through earlier, nose deep in his phone, and the coin Russ flared in front of him. His glowing eyes went through deep cycles of slow blinks until his head nodded off, almost resting against Russ, and then he would swipe furiously at them with the heels of his hands, his tail lifting behind him with the effort.

Russ had watched Harlan’s newest nodding with a hopeful gaze that ended in a sad smile when Harlan shook himself awake again. He raised a finger and brushed aside some of Harlan’s loose bangs from his forehead, frowning at the still-open cut there. He and Toby had done their best to clean the cut in the office’s bathrooms without aggravating it more. The cut did not look as angry, but Toby knew they would need more supplies to clean it properly- supplies he was not willing to pay Wren for.

“We really should have Wren look at both the twins too, Toby,” Russ said to him, glancing with an edge at him. “Can’t we just take on a little more debt?”