the fallen

There was a piece of Grace that wanted to bolt, to just up and leave before he could say anything else.  What happened to Lucy and here parents was not something she liked to talk about.  She kept it close to her chest, hidden in her heart.  Even her friends didn’t know the truth.  She’d never told Tae or Erin about Lucy or her parents.  She’d always been cagey and vague when talking about her past.  It wasn’t comfortable.  It was heartbreak that she hated.  She wanted to keep that tucked away, but he was bringing back those feelings and that loss.  Grace didn’t know how she felt about it.

They moved into the coffee shop and she sat down, anxious about what he was going to say.  She wished she had a coffee, just something to occupy her hands with while they talked.  It was an uneasy situation.  Grace just wanted things to go back to normal, but then he started speaking and she quickly realized that normal didn’t exist anymore.  “Wait…Lucy was alive?” she asked as a lump formed in her throat.  However, as quickly as the hope was given, he took it away.  Her sister wasn’t alive.  She was alive.  She spent fifteen years mourning someone who wasn’t dead, but now it was too late.  Lucy was dead.  

Tentatively, Grace reached out for the necklace, her fingers brushing over the pendant.  That was when the tears started brimming in her eyes.  She could remember when Lucy got that necklace.  She’d helped her mom pick it out to give her for her thirteenth birthday.  It was special.  She picked it up, her finger brushing along the top.  There was so much missed time…why didn’t they tell her she was okay?  Why were they separated in the foster system?  Had she known Lucy was alive, she never would have run away.  She wouldn’t have been homeless.  Her whole life would have been different.

She reached for the phone then, her finger brushing over the screen.  “What happened to her?” Grace asked.  “Where…where was she?  Did she…did she miss me?”

Raffe let his eyes fall to the necklace as she gingerly picked it up, fingers running over the pendant. It was harder than he thought it’d be, letting it go, giving up those last pieces of the woman that he had loved. But he held no claim over Lucy. He was merely the conduit, bridging the two sisters together through what little knowledge he possessed. But it was still hard. He’d grown accustomed to the weight of it in his pocket, his fingers tracing its shape like a nervous habit. He’d done what he’d come here to do, but instead of feeling accomplished, he just felt wrecked.

He allowed Grace however long she needed to look over the items, to process the information, to sit with the heartache for as long as she needed. He remained quiet, eyes on his hands clasped on the table. When she finally did speak, his heart broke all over again, the threat of tears burning behind his eyes and in his throat. He swallowed and took a deep breath in before he finally felt brave enough to look her in the eye. “She never stopped talking about you or missing you. She loved you so much.” Another deep breath. “She found me in Pennsylvania. She was on her way to New York because she’d heard that’s where you had been last. I never got the chance to hear her entire story. She was really protective over what she told me for a long time.” He swallowed again, the thickness in his throat making it difficult to continue. Words that he tried to hide, even from himself, came bubbling up to the surface, bursting through his lips before he’d had the chance to rein them in. “It was my fault. If she hadn’t tried to help me...”

He dropped his head into his hands for a moment to gather himself, squeezing his eyes shut so tight that no moisture would dare to escape. After a few moments he looked up again, shaking his head. “I was unknowingly apart of some... fanatical religious cult. I had no idea that supernaturals existed. I didn’t know--” he gestured around to the coffee shop itself-- “any of this existed. She tried to save me and they killed her for it. I’m so sorry, Grace. I’m so sorry.”

Adam nodded softly, keeping his expression straight and focused despite his surprise at the young man’s confession. Even the oldest vampire had been exposed to modern technology at this point and could operate a Google search. While he had seen Raphael around town, Adam, in all honesty, knew next to nothing about him. Just his face. Whatever life had handed him, Adam couldn’t judge. Judgement wouldn’t help introduce him to the technological conglomerate that was Google, anyway.

“Okay, well, it looks like you’re on Google and you’ve looked up Gmail…” Adam observed, leaning down over the young man’s shoulder and scanning the screen. He pointed to a button. “This one. ‘Sign-up.’ You’re going to have to put in a little personal information, like your name and a way to recover your password in case you forget it in the future. Do you have an older email or a cell phone?” he asked. He felt like he already knew the answer to those questions. “I think it’s optional, but it helps.”

The tension in Raffe’s shoulders loosened a fraction at the knowledge that he’d at least gotten halfway to where he needed to be. The man’s kindness and patience had him glancing up with a tight but thankful smile. The words wouldn’t quite pass his lips, his frustration at his ineptitude keeping a tight leash on whatever bit of pride he could manage to hold onto. But he was thankful all the same.

Instead, he focused on the instruction, eyebrows pulling together a little as parts of this rang familiar. “Wait. I think...” He shifted a little in his seat and reached into his pocket to fish out his wallet. Folded away and tucked inside was a scrap of paper. He unfolded it and placed it down beside him. “My boss set me up with one already, I just haven’t checked it like I was supposed to.” A sheepish smile tugged at his lips. “He said I’d need to change the password to something I’d remember.” He could see why now, glancing down at the paper that read:

Email - [email protected] Password - Password123

“You wouldn’t happen to know how I could do that now, do you?” He drummed his fingers against the keys. “And thank you. For taking the time out to try and help me.”

He could be such a little shit, she laughed to herself, rolling her eyes at his antics. It did little to distract her from the fluttering in her chest at his actions and she nudged him once with her elbow. “Listen, I was distracted. Give yourself some credit. All the other ladies in the bar were practically swooning over you. Not that I noticed, of course.” A blatant lie, more sarcasm than anything. She had noticed the way others looked at him, it would be hard not to. Just like she noticed the lingering glances of others on herself. Raffe was attractive, period. That alone garnered enough attention towards himself, especially in the setting of Flanigan’s. There was no doubt in her mind that, had he been there for another reason, he would have had plenty of other opportunities to end up at another’s home, fluttering his admittedly gorgeous eyes at them instead The fact that his attentions were on her and that he ended up here filled her with a sort of possessive pride that she wasn’t used to, but didn’t hate.

Again, she was struck by how similar the two of them were. Their situations–though entirely different–were eerily close. The anxiety and unease of discovering truly what you were, and then learning what that meant, was something she still struggled with. “I get that, but hey, now you know. There’s tons of resources online that could like, help explain everything probably. Could help you learn something new about yourself? Though a library might be more your speed.” She couldn’t help the jab as innocent as it was. Her intentions were honest, though. It was something she had done when she learned about her magic, but she also had a community to help her figure it out. Raffe had no one, it seemed. Not anymore anyway. She could never understand what it meant to be a harpy, but she could at the very least be there for him. “I could help you look, if you wanted. I’ll be honest, I’m gonna look anyway because I’m nosy, but at least this way it wouldn’t be completely selfish.” 

It was interesting to see the color rise on his face, to be the one watching it happen instead of feeling that familiar heat. She couldn’t help the grin that spread over her features as she watched, surprised at such a reaction. The color looked good on him, but at this point she was struggling to find something that didn’t. She was distracted by the images the explanation conjured up, curiosity gnawing at her even more. What it would feel like to press her fingers into the joints, to feel something so powerful underneath her digits. How he would react if she did that. Would he pull away again, or push closer? She didn’t know which would be worse at this point. She pulled her gaze away, paranoid that somehow he could see right through her and read her thoughts.

There was a joke ready on her tongue about him running around shoeless, but it dried up at his offer. Her mind blanked for a moment, overcome with the idea of it. The way he just described the simple act of touching them felt far too intimate, like maybe something she wasn’t allowed. But seeing them? She didn’t know what she would do with herself, if she would be able to resist reaching out. She knew herself too well and it would certainly be an exercise in control, but she couldn’t deny the fact that she wanted to see. She hadn’t lied when she said she was nosy. “That would be–yeah.” She cleared her throat, trying to play off just how into the idea she was. “I’d like to see. Just, you know. Whenever.”

A smirk tugged at his lips, his eyes glancing down to where she’d elbowed him before sliding back to her face. He sat a little straighter, smiled a little wider, at the knowledge that she’d noticed him enough to see that he’d been noticed by others as well. And he had noticed. But it had always felt like a different kind of attention-- leering maybe-- because of how obviously out of place he always felt. He’d just assumed people looked because they knew it. Erin, though. He’d also been paying attention, had also noted the looks she got from other patrons, had maybe even peacocked a little when her attention would shift to him. “Of course,” he echoed in playful mockery, raising his brows and letting his smile slowly spread. 

He shouldered her lightly as she teased him and tried not to make a face at the idea of venturing out into the world of the internet again. A child of technology he was not and if he was being completely honest with himself, he didn’t really want all the answers yet. Or maybe he just wasn’t ready for them. But he found he didn’t really hate the idea so much when she inserted herself into it. Maybe it was the doing it on his own that made it feel like such a herculean task. “Since we’re taking shots at my speed--” he cut a playfully sharp look in her direction, “--I suppose it would be more efficient if I exploited your nosiness for my own selfish gain.” 

He shifted in his seat a little, his shoulder ever so slightly brushing against hers. She was so much closer now than she had been when they’d first sat down that it was hard not to be distracted by the warmth of her. It was even harder still not to get caught up in the endless blue of her eyes. The imagery left behind from his own words paved a trail of fire through him and there was some kind of thrilling satisfaction in her easy acceptance of his offer. He realized the only real hesitation he had about showing her his wings was that they were no longer the snowy white wings he’d once been so proud of, but their nightmarish twin. At least he knew that she’d never see angel when she looked at him.

He could picture it so clearly, though, down to the nerves of pulling back that final curtain, of exposing himself truly for everything that he was. Would it be as freeing as he imagined it would? 

And then he had an idea.

His eyes, that were so drawn to her own, traveled down to her lips, lingering there for a moment before flicking back up to meet her gaze. “On one of your next days off, do you think you could put aside a day for me? There’s somewhere I'd like to take you.” A pause. “If you want to, of course.”

The fact that Raffe enjoyed the piano didn’t surprise her as much as she thought it should. He had the physique for it, with hands that she had caught herself staring at one-too many times. The thought of him sat next to her on a piano bench, carefully and painstakingly walking her through each set of chords and guiding her on the right path filled her with more warmth than it really should have. He would be a patient teacher, she thought, and he would have to be because she knew without a doubt that she would stray, get too distracted by his digits on the keys or the closeness of their bodies to focus on the task at hand.

It was almost juvenile the way her cheeks colored at the image, as if she was some young girl with a crush on her music teacher. Admittedly, it wasn’t too far from the mark, but those thoughts were best to remain securely in her own mind. She firmly told herself to ignore all ideas of him practicing the violin, least she make a total fool of herself. “Nails on a chalkboard, right?” She said, clearing her own throat more so to clear her thoughts, directing her mind back to the topic at hand. Easily distracted, but for good reason at least. “We’ll make sure to stay away from that particular instrument, just to save your eardrums. But I wouldn’t be against a concert. Since it’s your favorite, of course.”

It was with a laugh and a dramatic eye-roll that she took in his next words, even though he did have a point. The sudden reminder that he did that–sat there, waiting for her so he could apologize, to explain his actions–set off the warm and fuzzies again, and the only way she could think to combat it this time was to stand. It wasn’t fluid and she stumbled a little bit–legs stiff from her position on the couch and body warm from the drink and conversation. Instead of grabbing their glasses to refill, she chose instead to wander back into the kitchen and grab the bottle of rum. He had nowhere else to be and, if anything else, she had no qualms about calling out tomorrow if she really needed to. 

Making her way back into the living room, she settled back into the couch, only this time closer. There was still plenty of room between the two of them, but they were close enough now that she could reach out and touch if she felt brave enough. “Don’t be a dick,” she laughed, nodding towards his empty glass once she filled her own again. “That could be your thing, you know? Willingly waiting hours on end for a girl, especially with those big, sad eyes. It’s shockingly effective. Worked on me anyways. At least well enough for me to take you home.”

It felt natural playing coy, and if Erin was anyone else she might’ve added on a wink at the end, just because. She resisted, however, if only to save herself the embarrassment the action would cause. She could feel her playful smile start to wane, however, the longer he spoke, but it never went away. Not fully. There was so much sincerity in him, a sense of genuineness that kept pulling her back in. It was ridiculous the way her heart fluttered at the mention of him actually enjoying his time with her. She had to bite back a smile at that one, reigning herself in for a moment. This was serious, and it deserved her attention. 

“You shouldn’t be afraid of that. Scaring me off, I mean. I can be kind of clingy sometimes, and you haven’t really done anything really… scary for me to be, you know, scared of you. Even with the whole–” murder. She gestured lightly between them before taking a sip of her freshly filled glass. The words didn’t really need to be spoken, he would know what she meant. “That whole mess. So, don’t worry about that yet. Most of my questions are more of a, I don’t know, technical standpoint? That’s probably not the right term. I just.. I’ve never met a harpy before, at least not that I’m actually aware of. So I just… Yeah.” 

She laughed nervously, reaching up to rub at the back of her neck awkwardly before sitting up again. She shifted so she was sitting facing him, one leg hanging off the edge of the couch and the other now folded underneath her. With this position she could get a better look at him while still maintaining space if he needed. It would be easier to get some distance, too, if she accidentally said the wrong thing. “Honestly, the thing that’s been bothering me the most is like. Okay. That night? When I touched your wings.” It still felt weird to say, but she pushed on regardless. She would not be like her parents. “It didn’t hurt, right? I didn’t hurt you. It was just because of the whole… hiding it thing, right? Basically what I’m saying is do they hurt. Like then, and also now. Because I really, really don’t want you to be uncomfortable around me, in anyway, and I kinda just wanna be aware of it and also I have no idea how this works?”

Nails on a chalkboard was a very good, if a little less intense, way to describe it and a small laugh rumbled through his chest. The idea of throwing her a personal concert, however, dried up the sound and a smile spread slowly in its stead. “I’ll have to check my schedule-- I’m a very busy man as you know-- but I’m sure we could work something out.” His smile grew, morphing from pleased to playful teasing, gleaming eyes lingering on hers.

She stood abruptly, a little wobbly, breaking through his hazy staring and he watched her walk towards the kitchen for a moment before leaning back into the couch and threading his fingers together. His hands might have been a little clammy with nerves as he once again tossed a glance around as he waited for her to return.

It wasn’t as if he’d never been alone with a woman before, but it was never in this kind of capacity. He hadn’t exactly been looking for companionship in the months immediately following the demolition of his entire life, so this whole just simply talking and getting to know each other in her space was new and kind of nerve-wracking. 

Thankfully, he wasn’t left alone with his thoughts for too long as she returned with the whole bottle. He smiled approvingly, laughing a little as she sat back down, this time closer than she’d been before. He took it as a good sign even if it made him a little nervous. They weren’t bad nerves anyway. Just... new ones. Her words made him smirk anyway. “Well I hadn’t thought about it before, but now... I mean, what else am I supposed to do with all my time?” He teased. “Although it seems like a lot of downtime. You’d think these big, sad eyes would work a little faster than that.” He blinked them a few times in rapid succession to drive his point home. His eyes softened a moment later, a silent show of gratitude that she had invited him inside. That she’d given him all of these chances to explain himself, had accepted them all with a stunning sort of grace he hadn’t expected, had even moved to sit closer to him. It all meant more to him than she probably realized. 

He tried not to tense at the word ‘harpy’, but he flinched a little anyway. It was still something he was struggling with and he hated to admit it because his reasoning felt so... egotistical. He’d been proud of being an angel, of being a Messenger, God’s creature. He had lived a proud life, had been fed proud lies, and learning that he was, in fact, nothing special was still a hard reality to grasp. “I don’t know a whole lot about them myself,” he answered with a shrug. “I mean, I know I have these... abilities and the wings, obviously, but I haven’t-- I think I’m still processing everything. It’s only been a year since-- It’s only been a year. And I spent the first few months of that year in a pretty dark place. So it still feels pretty new to me.” 

The question about his wings was an easy one, though, even as it drew a little heat up his neck and to his cheeks. The fact that she cared at all, held some kind of concern about his wings out of everything else, did something funny to the confines of his chest. He swallowed down a heavy sip of his drink and his smile was back as he shook his head. “It doesn’t hurt. They’re, uh, they’re actually quite sensitive. Especially at the joints. Like how someone running their fingers along the nape of your neck might feel.” His face burned a little hotter because the words had brought with them their own imagery, his fingers gliding gently over her skin, watching the goosebumps rise in the wake of his touch. He cleared his throat and shifted into slightly safer territory. The idea of someone touching his wings felt like something intimate, something that required trust, a bond of some kind. His heart clanged a little faster beneath his rib cage. “Shirts can be pretty confining, but it’s not painful or anything. I guess it’d be like if your pants kept you in the same position all day. They’re a little sore and stiff, but they just need to be stretched out. I didn’t used to wear shirts. Or shoes, really. So maybe it’s just something I need to get used to.” He shrugged, throwing back another large gulp of rum, his glass nearly empty again. He grinned at her over the rim. “Maybe I’ll show them to you sometime.”

“Yeah, it’s pretty twisty, right?” Tae agreed, leaning back a little and surveying the club, mimicking Raffe’s own reaction. He leaned back forward as the bartender slid their drinks across the counter to them. “I think it’s pretty hilarious, given how nutty the human pastor is. Can’t believe he never, like, figured out this place was down here? Have you met that looney-tune yet?” 

Tae liked Raffe. Especially because Raffe knew Grace, who was basically Tae’s third sister. The guy was relatively new in town and Tae was never one to turn down the chance to hit the town with someone. And, objectively speaking, Raffe was quite the looker. In an edgy, sad-boy, kind of way. With Tae as his wingman, Raff would probably enjoy Shadow Falls more and Tae would have a chance with a girl. He took a sip of his own drink and shrugged. “I rotate a lot, it depends. But here’s a good place for dancing and fun stuff. It’s just…The girls here tend to bite and not in my favorite way,” he explained, grimacing playfully. “Like, I get it, a girl’s gotta eat. I’m more a fan of how the succubi girls feed, if you know what I’m saying,” he jested with a laugh. “How’re liking our little po-dunk town, Raff? Gonna stick around?”

Raffe’s fingers curled around the glass the bartender sat down. He bristled a little at the mention of a nutty pastor. He hadn’t had the misfortune of running into him, hadn’t even considered that there might be more fanatically religious people to contend with. The thought made him feel kind of sick. It also kind of made him appreciate this place a little more, if only because it was sticking it to the man in its own quiet way. “I hadn’t even heard of him until now,” he admitted, bringing the glass to his lips for a swallow of his drink. “But at least now I’ll know to avoid him.”

At the mention of dancing, he let his eyes drift back towards the crowd of dancing bodies and tried to imagine himself in the middle of the chaos and failed. The mention of girls had his eyes sliding back to Tae’s with a chuckle. While it was true that Raffe didn’t really know much about anything real, but he had crossed paths with a succubi or two. Okay, two. So in that respect, Raffe could lift his glass in a knowing cheers. It felt good to be in on something for once. “I actually do know what you mean,” he said with a small chuckle, his exhale sounding almost like a sigh. “Honestly, anywhere is better than where I grew up. And so far, I think the people I’ve met are enough to keep me around for a while. What about you? Have you lived here long?

Adam jumped slightly in his skin upon hearing the sound of a fist banging down on one of the desks in the nearly-silent library. The revolutionist in him had made another appearance in the wake of the cure coming out these past weeks. The last time he felt so strongly about supernatural rights was when the Hamlin Group had been at the heart of another controversy a few months prior, giving contaminated synthetic blood to the vampires in town. Now, Adam was reading up on Supernatural Rights in history to see where his rights lie in the new age of a cure.

It looked like the law would have to wait. Adam set his books on a nearby table and approached the man at the table. “Hey, need some help there?” he whispered as he approached.

While he’d been all too aware of the fact that he was in a very public place surrounded by people, it took took him by surprise when a voice sounded from behind him. He blinked, hand uncurling as he turned, blowing out a deprecating laugh and running a hand through his hair. Busted.

On one hand, he had some kind of need to prove to himself that he could do this alone, so pride had him wanting to deny the offer. But he could only get work through the requests sent to his email, so no email meant no income and he clearly wasn’t getting anywhere himself and he was, apparently, drawing the attention of others. Much to his horror. “I really could, yeah,” he said quietly, too aware of his surroundings now. “I...” It made him feel inadequate to have to admit that he didn’t know how to work computers. It was such a part of everyone’s everyday life that no one gave it a second thought. It was a natural reflex. He’d watched fingers flying over the keyboards like they somehow just knew the placement of every single letter, could watch as the words formed as fast as their thoughts across the screen. It just reminded him of everything he didn’t know, everything he missed out on. He cleared his throat and coughed a laugh, trying for a little humor. “I have no idea how to work this thing. I know I’m supposed to get to gmail, but I don’t remember how I’m supposed to get there.”

If she was honest with herself, Grace was skeptical of him.  He appeared to be dancing around saying something and she didn’t know what.  Something was going on with him and he knew her, but how?  Lucy wasn’t that much older than Grace, and Grace had been ten when her family was killed.  Maybe it made sense she didn’t recognize him.  People changed a lot in fifteen years.  She couldn’t deny that at all.

There was a piece of her that wanted to tell him to go to hell and leave her alone, but curiosity was getting the better of her.  Why did it matter now?  Why did he look for her now?  Her sister had been dead for fifteen years.  She’d been on her own, bouncing around foster homes before she finally ran away.  Nothing he had to say would change what had happened to her.

“Uh, sure, I guess,” Grace mumbled while she took a few steps in the direction of the coffee shop.  It wasn’t scary, but it was confusing.  What did he want with her?  She couldn’t wrap her mind around it.

He could tell he wasn’t winning himself any points. If anything, he was just being successful at driving her away, making her (reasonably) distrust him. He hoped he had the key to earning that trust in his pocket.

The walk was short and heavy with tension. He’d imagined this conversation was going to be awful, but it was gearing up to be pretty excruciating. He could be thankful for small miracles, however, when they walked into the coffee shop to find it relatively empty. He led her to a table near the back, feeling a little weird for not purchasing a drink before taking a seat. But he’d known of people that had spent their entire day hunched over a computer after buying only one, so surely this wasn’t completely abnormal.

He struggled to find words as he took a seat across from her. He drew in a long breath as he tried to buy enough time to figure out where to start. The time did nothing but delay the inevitable so, instead of the words that failed him, he reached into his pocket, the necklace feeling heavy as lead as he slowly pulled it out. Giving it up might not have been the hardest thing he’d ever have to do, but it was definitely up there. Silently, he set the necklace down on the table, his eyes drawn to it for a long moment. “Lucy was my friend,” he said for the second time that day, his voice thick. He met her eyes finally. “I met her almost a year and a half ago. She...” He swallowed, dropping his gaze again, the burning threat of tears behind his eyes. “She was killed. I’m sorry.” The words broke a little, impossibly hard to form in his throat. But he knew it wasn’t going to be any less painful if he took forever to get to the point, right? The end result wasn't going to change. He reached into his other pocket, hands clasping around Lucy’s long dead cell phone. He didn’t know if the necklace would mean anything to Grace, but Lucy had worn it every single day he’d known her, so even if it hadn’t held some kind of special memory from the past, maybe it could now. The cell phone had been the only other thing she’d had on her and he knew there was at least one picture of her on it. Of them. She’d snapped it the moment after he realized she’d been trying to sneak a picture so he’d been glaring at her while her own head was thrown back in laughter. He used to hate that picture. But he thought Grace might like to have it anyway. 

“I don’t know if these will mean anything to you, but they’re all she had the day she--” He didn’t need to say it again. Couldn’t. “It was all she had on her. I thought you might like to have them.”

Grace watched him skeptically, curious as to what he was going to say and why he knew her, but when he spoke it felt like the world suddenly stopped spinning.  Lucy.  Her older sister was someone she thought about frequently, but she was dead, gone, and had been for just as long as their parents.  The hunters had taken out her whole family when she was ten.  That was what started this unfortunate series of events landing her in Shadow Falls to begin with.  She was that orphan kid that ran away from foster homes and raised herself on the streets.  She didn’t have any family, at least not for a very long time.

He was talking about knowing  Erin and Tae but that didn’t even make sense.  Nothing about this made sense.  Hell, Erin and Tae didn’t even know she had a sister.  Her childhood was something private that Grace kept close to the vest knowing that it ended far too fast that fateful night.  She’d hate the hunters for doing that for the rest of her life.

“I…uh…” Grace started as she anxiously fiddled with the sleeve of her jacket.  This was nerve-wracking.  She hadn’t thought about Lucy other than a figment of her past in such a long time.  “Sure,” she murmured after a few long moments of thought.  “There is a coffee shop around the corner,” Grace told him.  “We can go there, I guess?  I just….I don’t remember you?  You were friends with my sister before?”

Raffe blinked his confusion, trying to recount the pieces of the story Lucy had told him while trying to make sense of Grace’s reaction. He would be the first to admit he didn’t know everything about their past. Lucy had given him bits and pieces, surely thinking she’d have nothing but time to fill in the blanks. She’d told him about the night the hunters had attacked, how she’d been separated from her sister and her parents had been killed. He knew she’d spent time in different group and foster homes, knew she’d done what she could to find Grace from the moment she aged out of the system until she’d found Raffe in Pennsylvania. 

Her long silence made Raffe suddenly rethink this whole thing. He blinked again at the question. “Before...?” And then it clicked. Lucy had been injured that night. Badly, from how she’d made it sound. Maybe Grace hadn’t known she had made it out. Maybe Grace had believed, all this time, that Lucy had died that night along with their parents. Panic seized his chest for a moment as he tried to decide how to proceed. “Perhaps we should sit first?” he suggested, treading lightly, trying to give away nothing that might scare her off and probably just confusing the poor girl more. 

Thankfully, the coffee shop wasn’t far from where they were. He was still learning his way around, but he did know that much. He resisted the urge to apologize but he knew he was about to upend her life and everything she must have thought she already knew. He nodded his head in the direction of the coffee shop. “Shall we?”

Erin didn’t know a lot about most things, merely content with face-values and basic knowledge when it came down to it. Her knowledge on other supernatural beings was even more limited. Raised and surrounded by humans–at least as far as she knew–for most of her childhood didn’t leave a lot of options for learning about other species. Her time after that had spent mostly with her kind, trying her best to catch up to those around her. So, she could admit that this little fact about him was somewhat of a surprise, but it wasn’t an unhappy one. The fact that they had something so important to her in common, even if it was in a different sense, filled her with a warmth that had nothing to do with the drink in her hands.

With every new tidbit, every new piece of information he gave her about himself, a clearer image of him was forming and solidifying in her mind. There was a lot of darkness in his life, that much was evident, but it was as if it wasn’t present in moments like this. The ease with which he joked and teased, and how he settled comfortably on her couch. There was no sign, no hint of the obvious anxiety from earlier. His words from before floated back into her mind and she found herself smiling, more to herself than anything.

“That would probably be a mistake,” she said after a moment. “I’ve got no sense of rhythm, it’s kind of embarrassing. I might like, make your ears bleed. Or offend you with my awful playing.” A little self-deprecating even though it was true, but she wasn’t willing to let this opening go. It was another chance down the line, a proper excuse to see him again without the aid of a public space or the need to apologize for anything. “I did use to play piano for my church choir, though. So, if you know how to play I wouldn’t mind a refresher course.”

There were so many questions swirling through her mind as she watched him settle in, but none felt worth the effort of breaking the calmness over them. There would be time for more of the heavy stuff later, she told herself, when things were more settled in, less fresh. She could wait, especially if it meant more of this. Less pressure, less expectations. If he wanted to feel what he considered “normal” around her, then she was more than willing to help out with that.

A glance at the bright numbers on her cable box, she gave a half shrug at his question. “Probably,” she teased before finishing off what remained of her drink, twisting the glass between her fingers just for something to do, to distract herself from staring too hard. It would be a shame after all of this, all of the efforts tonight, for him to think she was a creep with a staring problem. “But I’d probably just end up tossing and turning in bed for the next two or three hours anyway, so you make better company than Sir Walter over there. At least you talk back. But if you have somewhere else to be, I totally understand.” It would be a little disappointing, but she could get over it as long as it meant seeing him again.

Erin was unlike anyone he’d ever met. He’d been surrounded by egotistical self-indulgent harpies that deluded themselves into thinking they were angels, and then Lucy had been so self-assured, so grating with her constant presence and sarcasm until he’d just been worn down. After her it had just been a blur of indulgence, of taking back everything that he’d been denied for so long. But Erin. Erin was like... light. She didn’t always say the right thing, sometimes it seemed she said too many things, but mostly it just made him feel almost... warm. 

His life had never afforded him the opportunity to really stop and enjoy things. He was always learning, always training, always preparing. He had nothing but time now to figure out what he liked. And he found that he liked her. He smiled when she said she’d played piano and would possibly be interested in taking a refresher course with him. He might have been a little egotistical too, for it pleased him greatly to know he’d be able to show off. “Piano is actually my favorite. Well, that and the violin. And I can almost guarantee you that I’ve heard worse. You’ve never feared actual bleeding from the ears until you’ve heard someone try to play a violin for the first time.” 

He thought maybe he was staring, so he tossed a too-casual glance around her apartment. He wasn’t really sure how much direct eye contact was considered creepy in this kind of situation because he’d never been in this situation before, but her eyes were really blue and he found it very hard to look away. 

So it was met with much relief when she didn’t seem to want him to leave. He took it as a good sign and looked over at where Walter had curled up before shooting her a knowing smile. If he had somewhere else to be. Yeah, the loser that had just spent his entire night sitting at a bar waiting for her had somewhere else to be. He laughed and finished off the rest of his drink. “You know what, you’re right. I have plans to go sit at some other girl’s job for the next few hours and dump my life story on her. I’m running late, actually.” He smirked. “No, I don’t have anywhere else to be. I’m a hermit, remember? You’re better company than my TV.” 

The mention of his past, casual as it was, brought back the reality that he had just dumped a lot on her and then subsequently skirted right around it without really giving her time to do much of anything with so much information. He ran a hand through his hair. “And hey, I know you probably have a lot of questions-- trust me, I do too-- and I don’t want you to think that you can’t ask them. As nice as it is to pretend like it all happened to someone else, it’s also nice to know that someone else knows. You’re the first person I’ve been this honest with and I don’t really know what the social protocol here is. I don’t want to scare you off. I like... this. I like spending time with you.” He blinked as if suddenly remembering himself and looked down at his empty glass as if it were a traitor. He knew that he had long since sobered but his mouth apparently hadn’t caught up with that fact. Maybe he also had a tendency to talk too much when he was nervous. But he'd meant it so at least he could own it.

It was a perfectly normal day for Grace.  Work had been busy, but not overly so.  She’d chatted with customers, done a few readings.  It was good.  She was pretty pleased with how things went.  It was late afternoon when Grace got off shift, pulled on her jacket, shoved her hands into her pockets, and headed home.  She was already thinking about calling Tae and seeing if he wanted to hang out or grab a pizza.  It was going to be a good evening to go with her pretty decent day at work.  She could feel it, or at least she thought she could.  That all stopped when an unfamiliar voice called out her name.

Grace stopped and turned to face the person looking for her.  Last time someone cornered her it was one of the Hopkins hunters looking to finish off her family line.  Grace had handled that, but it was still light out.  She couldn’t exactly do the same thing right now.  Hopefully if this person was a hunter she could at least take solace in the knowledge that they couldn’t do anything in broad daylight with witnesses all around.

“Who wants to know?” she finally replied, figuring she could avoid confirming her identity until she at least had a better idea of what she was dealing with.

Raffe was struck speechless when she turned around. Up close, she looked even more like Lucy than he’d been prepared for and his mouth abruptly shut and he swallowed down the shock before it had a chance to make it to his face. There was a fondness in the slight upturn at the corners of his mouth, though, at her unwillingness to tell him who she was. He expected nothing less from someone that came from the same family as the headstrong woman he’d loved.

He showed her his palms in a harmless gesture before shrugging and stuffing his hands back in his pockets, his fingers immediately clasping around the necklace. Tracing the shape of it, he drew in a breath and offered her a small smile. “My name is Raffe. I knew your sister Lucy.”

He hadn’t meant to use the past tense. In fact, he couldn’t remember if he’d ever referred to her in the past tense before now. Maybe he really was ready to move on. But that was a thought for another time and another place. “I thought maybe we could talk? I know your friends Erin and Tae if you want to vet me first. I know this is probably pretty odd, some stranger popping up out of nowhere claiming to know your family and friends. But it’s important and trust me, if I didn’t think this was something that you needed to know, I wouldn’t be here right now.” He understood more than anyone else how it felt to have someone enter your life and completely shake it up. The gravity of the situation was not lost on him. “You can even pick the place.”

Keeping an eye on the way Walter responded to Raffe, Erin couldn’t contain her smile when she saw no signs of aggression from her familiar. That, she figured, was probably a better judge of character than anything. If Walter didn’t react negatively, then he posed no threat. At least not now, and she found herself relaxing more and more as the seconds ticked on. The stress of work, of their previous talk, had weighed heavy on her shoulders, but as she poured them both a glass of rum, she found herself calming down significantly. Being back home, in a familiar space, certainly helped matters.

She watched from her vantage point in the kitchen for a moment, trying to decide how she felt about him in her space, and finding the situation not entirely uncomfortable. She was still nervous, of course, not used to having really anyone over. None she liked longer than a night, at least. But it wasn’t terrible, the exact opposite in fact, and she warned herself against getting too attached too quickly. 

“Ooh, tough question,” she finally replied, peeking over his shoulder at her collection with a small, fond smile once she passed off his drink. She sipped at her own, cocking her head to the side as she thought before shrugging. “I don’t know. I never really thought of it. Weird, right? It really depends on my mood, I think. You know, sometimes I’m feeling kinda jazzy. Other times I just wanna like, punch a hole in wall. It really depends.”

“If I had to pick, though,” she hummed, setting her drink on the coffee table before stepping around him and skimming the shelf, muttering to herself before plucking a worn, faded vinyl cover out. “It’d probably be this one. Speaking in Tongues by Talking Heads. I think I’ve had it the longest, and it’s clearly the most handled. I mean, look at it.” She chuckled, smoothing a hand over the cover and admiring the bent corners, the random scratches and gouges in it. It was old and worn, but clearly loved. Instead of putting it back in it’s spot on the shelf, she left it laying on top of the turntable, half tempted to set it up but unwilling to drown out the conversation. She liked the one on one, without all the background noise of Flanigan’s. It was easier to focus. 

“What about you?” She asked, settling herself onto the couch and folding her legs up underneath her. “Probably a dumb question, actually. What with the whole hermit thing we keep mentioning,” A grin, quickly hidden by the rim of her glass as she watched him. “If you wanna expand your knowledge, I’m more than willing to help. Not to brag but I’ve got pretty good taste in music. Your welcome over anytime. Or if you just want to like, borrow anything or whatever.” 

Despite the way his heart still thudded a little off beat in his chest, his past and the truths that he’d spoken out loud for the first time still lingering, there was something about the way she seemed to brighten or open up a little with the question that chased the remnants of it away. She moved around her space, her hands lovingly tracing over the well-worn cover.

He could feel her passion for the music in her words, could clearly see it in the bent corners of its cover, and he almost asked her to play it for him. Music was a universal language and even if he never truly integrated into the life he had now, he could still understand that. And he wanted to listen, to try an understand her through the things that ignited that passion and in a medium he understood better than he understood anything else.

Her question drew his attention away from the album cover and his eyes slid to where she was now sitting on the couch and he chuckled at the hermit comment. “As much as I’d love to tell you that your hermit handbook is out of date, I have to say I’ve never heard of any of these artists.” He turned back to the collection a moment and took another hearty sip of his drink. “So I’m probably going to take you up on that offer to expand my knowledge sometime.” 

He tilted his head a little, something like a cocky grin spreading across his face. “But what I lack in pop culture knowledge, I make up for in skill. I’ve never met an instrument I couldn’t play. Not to brag or anything,” he teased. “But hey, if you require payment for your vast knowledge of good music, I can offer my services in return. You know, if instead of punching holes in walls, you'd prefer to be a bad ass on a drum set or something.” 

He moved to join her on the couch, sinking into its comfort with a contented sigh. It’d been a really long and heavy day and he was endlessly thankful for this chance to finally relax a little and unwind. Thankful that she wasn’t steering the conversation back down that dreary path with questions she would have had every right to want to ask. He took another sip from his glass and a thought suddenly occurred to him. “I’m not keeping you up, am I?”

Erin didn’t think she could be so fickle, to change her mind in such a short amount of time, but she held onto those words regardless. She never had to hear something like that, never had to process the gravity of it all. Who knew what the next day would bring when everything settled? She simply pursed her lips and nodded, even though her gut was telling her that right now, nothing would change. Certainly not in a negative way.

But his words held truth, more than he probably knew. It really was strange to discover that things weren’t entirely what they seemed. It was strange when her Aunt showed up out of the blue and everything fell into place, all the past situations and problems coming to light and making sense. She was so young, then, and everything had changed after that. On this, she could definitely relate.

It would only be fair to tell him, not that her secret was really much of one anymore, or hold as much weight has his did. But it was only right–one truth for another. It wasn’t as if there was any room to judge, either. It was a safe space, so why did she still feel so nervous? Trying to formulate the words in her mind–it shouldn’t be so difficult–she was taken off guard by his joke, a surprised laugh bursting out of her before she could process anything else.

“Of course you remember that,” She rolled her eyes, dropping the hand she didn’t realize was still holding onto him and pushing the loose strands of hair that fell out of her ponytail away from her face. “Listen, just pretend like I didn’t let it slip, alright? I got a boss up there right now who thinks the plans still in motion, so just pretend for his sake that you’re surprised, alright?” It was easy to slip back into the old joke, to let a smile take over her features instead of something more morose. The one Raffe sported looked far better than the pinched, concerned look he had on previously, and Erin wouldn’t trade it for anything. 

It would be easy to grab onto his arm again and drag him along, but she resisted. They made quick work of what little remained of the walk, her fingers digging in her purse to find her house keys and only struggling minimally to get the stubborn lock undone. When she did finally push the door open–having to use her shoulder for the extra inch–she kicked the small pile of shoes on the side of her door aside and dropped her keys and purse onto the nearest flat surface. 

Remembering herself, she called over her shoulder “You’re not like, allergic to dogs right? Because I can totally lock him in my room if I need,” pausing only to scoop up said animal as he came bounding into the room, tail wagging. She kissed the top of Walter’s scruffy head once before setting him down, making quick work of clearing the many dishes that littered her living room and dropping them in the sink. “Sorry about the mess. I’ve been pulling doubles basically since the year started and I’m only ever here to like, shower. And sleep, sometimes.” She laughed, a short nervous one, before gathering the random loose articles of clothing on her couch and tossing them into her room. Raffe’s jacket from the night of the ball remained in its spot on the back of her couch, where it had sat since that night. She glanced at it briefly before letting her eyes wander around the room again, taking stock. 

There wasn’t much in it, Erin never really being the type for home decor. A couch, brand new, and a coffee table she found at Goodwill. Basic entertainment center holding a standard TV. A few plants, fake, and a bookshelf that held more CDs and vinyls than books, her aunt’s record player sitting on top. Her small, nearly portable altar sat snuggly in the corner of the room and she found herself grateful that her grimoire was shoved underneath her pillows and not where it usually lay, so out in the open. Maybe he wouldn’t notice, but she found herself caring less and less if he did. “So, I have beer, obviously. No whiskey, though. There’s rum and some vodka, I think? Coffee, tea, water… Just you know, make yourself comfortable.”

There was no sweeter sound in that moment than the sound of her surprised laughter. It was like salve to his exposed wounds, ones that would certainly heal jagged and ugly, but would eventually heal. He had probably never appreciated a person more than when she fell into the joke with him and his gaze traveled to her building before sliding back to her with a grin. “I’ll meet my fate with dignity,” he promised with a solemn nod and a gleam in his eye.

He fell into silence as she led him to her apartment, him leaning against the wall beside her door, watching her with amusement as she worked to unlock it. He paused in the doorway for just a moment before stepping inside and taking stock of his surroundings. Though she immediately went to tidying, he didn’t find it to be necessary. Her apartment felt like her to him: a little bit of a mess, sure, but mostly it was charming and inviting. Telling her that, no, he was not allergic to dogs, he knelt to the ground to hold out his hand for a curious Walter to sniff. 

After a few scratches behind the pup’s ears, Raffe stood and watched Erin move around her space. At her question, he could only shrug. “I’ll take whatever is strongest. I have a frustratingly high alcohol tolerance.” 

He finally moved further into the living room when she told him to make himself comfortable. He was nervous in a way that felt like it had little to do with his weighty confessions earlier and he distracted himself from that feeling by running a finger over the spines of her music collection. Musical creature that he was, he didn’t know most, if any, of the names he read. Inclined to classical music himself, it was more of a ‘because that was what he had available’ thing to him than it was out of preference. Well, that and hymns. But fuck that.

She came back into the room with their drinks and he turned to face her with a small, thankful smile. He took the drink and then nodded his head back in the direction of her music. He’d done enough talking about himself for a minute. “Which one is your favorite?”