a light that never goes out

“Well good for me then, because it seems like I need to focus more on those people and less on you. When the time comes for a replacement of organs, the offer might still stand. Unless everyone else in this town already took all of them from me.” It sounded morbid, but that was just a preview of what was to come. The next statement from Samir didn’t settled well with Fayre. They had every right to distrust her, but doing so what only shatter her purpose of being there. “That’s only fair. Was there someone who started this mistrust to happen? Well, hopefully the town will be relieved soon to know the only threat I am to society is smoking cigarettes.” What Samir said did make sense. She was able to get in pretty easy. A background search of her family line would’ve been enough for her to get thrown across the town’s border in less than a second. “You’d be surprised,” she said as she tried to not take a peek at his attempt to spell her name before he finished. Seeing the right spelling on the clipboard, she gave him a firm nod. “All is forgiven. And you said spelling wasn’t your strong suit. Either you guys are horrible liars or just very humble.” A light chuckle erupted from her lips. “Now I’m curious as to what kind of work you do. A child looking for their dog, huh? Did they ever reunite with their dog?” Fayre followed the direction of where his eyes were looking at around town, trying to see read his thought process. At the mention of the length of time he first arrived, she was quickly reminded about the aging process of certain species. After spending years in education and training about them, it was always something she couldn’t get used to. A thousand years old creatures who look as if they popped out of the womb just yesterday. “No, that sounds beautiful. I definitely would love to check that out. Is that a once-in-a-while thing?”

Elyas was standing over the administrator’s desk, answering questions of the records filings into the computer. Lack of information forced him to recall cases from long ago or even a few days ago. It was difficult to not overlap one with another. He was a patient guy, but with the amount of questions that he was being asked that held no value in that moment, Elyas was looking for an escape. And luckily for him, Sam came in right at the perfect time. Hearing his name across the room, which he had been waiting to happen for the past ten minutes, he immediately looked up. What he didn’t expect, though, was for it to be the familiar face. “I’ll be back,” he said with relief to the law enforcement administrator before meeting Sam at his desk. “I have plenty of minutes. Hours even,” he said in a begging nature. “I wish I could say the same about you. What are you doing here? Looking to come back? Because I’ve been saving a desk for you this entire time.”

“What the devil’s wrong that you need that long of a distraction? I don’t know if I have that much time, but I can drag it out long as you want.” Well, no, he couldn’t. Sitting around made him twitchy and without a sketchbook to distract him, Sam already found his eyes drifting around the room. Nothing about it was different, he thought, even after decades. “I didn’t get that old! I only died a couple of years after I left this place! See, this is the only grey hair I’ve got.” Sam lifted a portion of his hair, eyebrows raised, showing off the slight tinge of grey at his roots. “Not that you know anything about grey hair, young man.” Elyas was older than him by a great deal, but it brought Sam a great deal of amusement to call him young. His smile faltered a little bit, and he shot Elyas a bemused look. “Oh, so that’s why this place is so crowded, you’re hogging a desk on my behalf. I don’t think your chief will let me back, he’s picky, although he’s better than who we used to have. What was his name, Douglas or something?” Too long ago for Sam to remember. He would come back if he could, if the situation with Delilah wasn’t hanging over his head like a damn guillotine, but he couldn’t say that. He turned to face Elyas fully, his lips quirking with amusement at the corners. “I’m a PI these days, but there’s no power to that. Do you wanna come catch a thief with me so I can take all the credit, but you can do all the work?” 

“Yes. Adrian is one of his many grandchildren,” she stated slowly. “Samir. I remember your family. Gabriel talked about your mother a few times, how she died so young, but I don’t know much beyond that…” It happened way before Brynn’s time, and she looked at the man in a new light. Shit, was he older than her? She shook his hand, distracted. “A private investigator? In Lethe? Like, for the Riverborn or what?” she asked intently, curiosity getting the better of her. “Why did you ‘have’ to see some funerals? Were you close with the people? You know many deceased? You had an obligation?” What was this, twenty questions? Christ, Brynn, she thought to herself. She smiled up at the taller man then asked “And why aren’t you ready to go? What is the deceased’s name again? Anatol…?” She looked expectantly at the man then giggled. “You complain that we’re stuck here even though you don’t want to leave? I’m sorry, who the hell are you again?” 

“Huh, okay, well I guess it’s in bad taste to bother a man at his grandfather’s funeral, I’ll have to come back afterwards. Do you recall what he looks like? No, wait, let me guess.” He stared at the crowd for a moment, though they were far enough that he could only see a few. “That one in the rubbish goatee probably. People only grow one of those to obscure something.” Sam turned slightly, wanting to keep his eyes on the crowd without being so forward, and it helped him hear the woman a little better. Her question, that confused him enough into shooting her a lost look. “Have they not got enough private investigators state side to know what they are, or are you wondering if I have a specific type of customer? I’ll help any Riverborn that wants it, its usually random problem solving. Lot of petty people here,” he said with fondness. Lethe was just the right amount of crazy to be endearing. “Well, I used to be a detective. Not here, this was before I moved back to this town. We often end up here a little bit, though its not like the shows you see on the telly.” No, those were dramatic and disruptive, and he hadn’t crashed a funeral in several decades. He did not mention that he went to a couple dozen funerals for people he knew, his eyes flickering to the east, where he knew Shiloh’s mother rested eternally. “Why are you nitpicking me? Who are you, the nitpick police?” He asked with a snort. “I just meant I can’t wander around so easily, we have to stand here like robots till its over.”

He’s got the photos to prove the guy is a thief, but no authority to do anything with it. Days like this are the reason Sam misses being a police officer, let alone the detective he was once upon a time, but he tries not to let this show on his face as he breezes into the station. “You still work here?” he asks of a soft-faced secretary at the front, a little surprised they are still here, air-headed as they were, let alone alive still with the lines creased into their face. “Just looking for someone. Oh, there he is! Elyas!” No one can miss him, he’s the tallest person in the room, but he still raises his hand and waves it with enthusiasm. He waits for them to let him into the back area and then swoops back to Elyas’ desk. “Have you got a minute? Wow, you don’t look very different, its only been what... more than thirty-years?” 

“I had to stand in front of a council and reveal my sins, go through an elaborate pat down, and that’s not enough? What else do I have to do earn people’s trust around here? Bake them damn good cupcakes? Donate a few organs?” She was giving herself a few more minutes before her face grew tired of plastering that forced smile on her face. Standing there, she was only reminded how draining it was to keep herself from immediately attacking the other creature. Oh great, this is going to be tough. “Fayre. If you spell that correctly, I’ll excuse the lack of balloons and flowers.” With the countless times her name had been misspelled on a Starbucks cup, she had given them a new name each time that she wasn’t even sure what her real name was anymore. “Wow, sacrificing some hangman space to write my name on it? That’s some hospitality you would only find in the south.” Curious eyes wondered down at the paperwork before looking back at him. “What’s the contract for? Or is it in the contract that you’re not allowed to say?” At his question, many answers went through her mind of what she was seeking for in this town. None of which were verbally expressed. “I’m looking for a tour, or is that not included in the itinerary? Fortunately, I already found a place to live. I’m having my stuff dropped off later, so I have a few hours to spare before that arrives.” Great. A name to a face. “It’s nice to meet you, Samir. Say you get the chance to go back in time when you first arrived in this town. Where would you go first?” 

“Take it for what is is.” Gwendolyn simply replied as she shrugged. It was merely an expression for the most part. “If you say so, at least you’ve made it clear. Some people just ask for it.” Clearly, she wasn’t putting the blame on herself. Arching a brow, she was amused at the fact that he didn’t know who she is. Well that was refreshing. “Fair enough and I’m Gwendolyn.” Her lips curled upwards as she assessed their surroundings. “Mmm, I beg to differ. If they were uncomfortable, something as simple as walking away would do. They have two legs and a wide open space.” 

Brynn took the man by the sleeve of his shirt to the side for some privacy. Lethe had some issues with diversity and acceptance, and everyone here looked like they belonged in the KKK or a Mormon potluck. Therefore, she knew this man here probably wasn’t invited, and she wanted to nip it in the bud before someone turned on him. After all, his name probably wasn’t ‘Sam Jackson.’ 

“I don’t believe you were even in the vicinity of friends,” she hissed in his ear as they got out of range. The werewolves and vampires would have to suck it up or look the other way, goddamnit. “Do you usually spend your time at the cemetery, or…” her features softened. “Were you visiting someone and stopped by because of the crowd?” Brynn looked into his big brown eyes, reaching for any feelings that might surface. “His name was Anatol Niemczyk. He was a Serbian water nymph. Not a native, but his grandchildren are–he died of natural causes, hence all the old people. I mean, Lethe funerals are probably different than the outside world–I wouldn’t know, I’ve only worked here–but because we age differently I’d say ours are more diverse…” And as they could see, this one was… not.

She said something, but the sound of it was lost among the shuffling and movement as she dragged him away from everyone else. “Very subtle, I don’t think they noticed,” he said, cheerfully, fully aware that some people were giving them a confused look. Sam bowed his head to them, solemness crossing his face till they turned away, and he looked back at her with a slight frown. “Is that why you dragged me away? You thought I didn’t belong there? Very presumptuous, I happen to be good friends with, uh, Anatol Niemczyk.” The name was slow and dragged out, like he wasn’t quite sure how to pronounce all of it. Then he frowned. “Wait, Niemczyk? Is his grandson Adrian?” Huh, small world, he’d been looking for that guy for a while. “I’m Samir Roshan, I’m a de-- I’m a private investigator.” He stuck out his hand for her to shake, fumbling on his introduction. Decades of introducing himself as a detective was a little difficult to change and he grimaced. “Every funeral is different, even outside of Lethe. Can’t say this one looks any different than some of the others I’ve had to see, but I try not to attend these if I can avoid it.” Someone looked their way and the solemn look came across his face again. When they turned away, Sam looked at the woman. “You do realize we’re both stuck here now? Its going to be suspicious if I just walk away, but I’m not ready to go yet.”

Deya grinned at her older brother, elbowing him lightly. “It also used to be frowned upon for a woman to be a fighter pilot and I did it anyway.” But the sigh in his voice made her stop, her thoughts slow, and her grin falter a little. It reminded her that he left, that he had walked away from her and gone off god knew where. She knew – she knew – that he had his own life, that she couldn’t expect him to hold her hand forever. And yet the burn of it had never quit hurting. After she gathered herself again, she shrugged her shoulders and resisted the urge to tell him that she went by Deya now. “Not really. I mean, can you imagine James Proctor sitting around playing board games with me?” That was a pretty hilarious image if truth be told. 

“Oh, so you’re going to trash me in this fight? I see how it is, I come home after years away and you treat me like rubbish,” he said, starting to laugh, though it faltered at the flicker across her face. The way her grin fade just a little, enough to remind him that there were several things unspoken between them. Things that Sam couldn’t even begin to explain to her without changing something. Nadeya was his family, he trusted his with everything except this truth. A snaking worry told him that she would never see him the same way if she knew he wasn’t strong enough to fight Delilah -- and the biggest part worried she would pick a fight with said vampire if she discovered her in town. He looked away from her, a tinge of guilt crossing his face. “Dunno who James Proctor is, you know, so I can’t say if that’s good or bad. Boyfriend? Friend? Enemy? Chances are he’s just a lousy player and doesn’t want to be beat.” Smooth recovery, in his eyes, but a temporary one nonetheless. He set up the board game, reaching up a foot to push a chair out for her.

Grey snorted lightly, smiling a little bit in amusement as he glanced at the other man’s look of disbelief. “Typically ones that involve alcohol or violence. At least in the past. And I served in several wars, trust me, you see strange hobbies out there that men pick up to pass the time.” It wasn’t a lie. Or wrong. The smell of the other man hit him then and he grimaced. “This definitely is in the drunk category.” He snorted again, his smile only growing as amusement sparked in his eyes. “Your other way? And what’s that exactly?” He liked this guy, he decided definitively. He had a dry humor to him that you didn’t find every day anymore. “Yeah, I’ve been around off and on since the place started. Built one of the older houses. I’m sort of getting my ass handed to me for it having termites.” He watched the guy spazz into consciousness with a satisfied smirk. “Nah. Never seen him before. Looks pretty amusing though.”

Sam, who served in zero wars and only knew what people did to pass the time when it involved murder, nodded his head shortly. “I feel like I should avoid asking what those were, I’m lucky to not need any new hobbies. Immortality hasn’t made me bored yet.” He snorted at the expression on the man’s face and nodded in agreement. “I was a cop for a couple of years in Seattle, I’m used to my fair share of drunks,” he said, by way of explaining his own lack of grimacing, even with his better senses, and he nudged the man again with his foot, careful to avoid the puddle of water. “Usually I call a monster to come pick them up. What she does with them is her own business, but I figure she eats them.” He doubted the man would take his words seriously, even if they were partially true. Sam’s head shot up, missing the spazzing from the man on the ground as he woke up. “Oh, so you’re Wyatt! Charlie made you sound taller and frightening,” he commented, squinting at him. Then he stuck his hand out. “I’m Samir Roshan. Charlie hired me to figure out why you have termites so she can decide if she’s going to kick your arse -- and she didn’t pay for the patient confidentiality contract so I can warn you to watch your arse.” 

Deya grinned at him. Sometimes it was too damn easy to forget how long it had been, to feel as if they had been doing this forever. Her brother was so easy to fall back into habits with, to be comfortable with and to let her guard down. He always had been her safe place. That was why him being back scared her. “Ooh, risk. We could play Risk. I’m a military girl now, I’d kick your ass,” she teased him lightly, only half kidding. She had always been good at strategy games. It was games like Life that she sucked at. “Yeah, I never moved them.” She couldn’t bring herself to admit that she had never let anyone else touch it either. That cabinet was sacred, like a treasured memory.

“Good, we had them organized in a particular way. Remember, the ones we use with guests used to be at the bottom because we didn’t have guests that needed the boring games?” he questioned with a short laugh, moving out of the kitchen and into the cabinet tucked in the corner. “Risk? Oh, well, alright since it was your idea, we’ll play yours. But I’ll have you know, its in bad taste to beat up your older brother.” Sam dug the box out, wiping off a thin layer of dust that clung to the top as he brought it to the table. It was like it hadn’t been touched in some time and it drew him a little short. They’d spent many an evening playing these, both with their mother and after she was gone, as much to waste away the hours as it was to remember her. At least on his part, given he didn’t know how much Nadeya remembered of their mother anyway. He touched it lightly, a sigh in his voice and an almost smile on his face. “Not spent a lot of time playing games, Nadeya?”

If a stranger came to his mother’s funeral for no reason other than boredom then Sam rather thought he would pummel them. He wasn’t a man for violent tendencies and yet some things are sacred. So funeral crashing? It wasn’t on his bucket list and here he was, scratching it off anyway, arms clasped behind his back as he edged his way around the edges of a mourning crowd with guilt clinging to his chest. It was just crowded enough that not many people recognized him, but it was only a matter of time when he quite literally towered over everyone else. Sam stepped further and bumped shoulders with a tinier, dark haired woman that he vaguely recognized, and he caught her shoulder to steady her. “Pardon me, I wasn’t looking where I was going,” he said, quietly, to keep his voice from being heard over the murmurs of the crowd. “So, who died? I forget his name, we’re not real close.”

“Yes, Samir Roshan, Private Investigator. That’s what it says on the door, yes?” she replied quickly, as if she were in a rush. “Okay Sam. No, termites isn’t a code word. I didn’t get crabs or some shit. My partner let termites infest the home I built ages ago, and no other houses around us are infected. I’m not asking you to tell me he did it, then I might break up with him,” she partially lied, “but I just want to know where it originated from. I’ll leave better instructions with him next time I leave town.” She looked at him, then blinked a few times. “Oh shit. Roshan! Yeah, yeah, I remember. Your hair grew out. You look damn good like this, actually,” she said, obviously checking him out. It hadn’t been a long time since she’d last seen him because he was still rather young. “So… Lethe, huh? What made you…?”

"I just have to cover my ass, I’m not really interested in getting in the middle of a lover’s dispute,” he said, hands held up in surrender as if half his income wasn’t from solving lover’s quarrels. It didn’t mean he had to like it. “Alright so termites, you don’t know a pest control that can give you more answers on it? We can go looking into that if we can’t figure this out. Kind of harsh to break up with him over that, but I won’t judge you for it,” he said honestly, zipping up his sweater. He didn’t need it, but it was old and comfortable and worth being a little more warm than usual. His back was to her till she called his name in a tone of remembering and then he stiffened a little, turning to face her, squinting. “Oh, bloody hell. You’re her, aren’t you? Engel, right?” It annoyed him that he didn’t recognize her face, but interactions with vampires were ones he didn’t want to remember usually. She was possibly a rare exception. “Fine, let’s go investigate this house of yours,” he said loudly, purposely not answering her question as he led her to the door with a smile. “Haven’t been here in a long while myself. How long have you been here?”