#kaden.

Kaden hadn’t walked this path in a while but it felt just as familiar under his feet. The hunter bar was tucked away in a barn, hard to find if you didn’t know where to look, and had once been a small comfort to the ranger. He knew from the moment he stepped foot in Wicked’s Rest that his hunting habits weren’t going to match most others in town, but there was a camaraderie in a place like that all the same. It was something familiar in a way that felt safe enough to indulge in when he first got to town. The more connections he made, the less he went and he’d all but exiled himself from it when he learned what Monty was. It made him too anxious to know that any number of the patrons there wouldn’t hesitate to kill his partner without a second thought. 

Funny to think the reason he was showing up now was on his behalf. Not that it was what Monty wanted or asked him to do, but Kaden couldn’t sit back and not investigate. Not after what happened with the animals. If there was any lead on who could be doing this shit, he couldn’t let it sit uninvestigated. 

The ranger inhaled deeply, letting the breath fill his lungs and sit there a moment before huffing it out and swinging the doors open. The bar was unchanged from the last time he’d been there months and months ago. Couldn’t say he was surprised. Kaden knew he should probably go to the bar first, get a drink, make himself less suspicious, but he went straight to the bounty board. He had to know what was there, he had to know if someone in this very bar was trying to orchestrate the downfall of everything his partner had worked to build. 

Kaden was so focused that the side of his arm collided into someone’s shoulder. “Sorry,” he muttered to the person seemingly headed in the same direction. Normally he’d step aside and let them go first but this was a matter of–

Hold on. He knew this person. Putain de merde. Just his fucking luck. “Hey, Daiyu,” he said, trying to position himself in a way that she couldn’t dart past him to the board before he could get a good look. “Good seeing you again. How’s it going? Less snow werewolves I’m assuming.”

—

She’d garnered a bit of a reputation with the people at the 3 Daggers by now. Daiyu was the short, fiery hunter that often hopped in with a duffel bag filled with some kind of proof of a bounty succeeded. Mark knew her order by heart at this point (it was easy, admittedly — she always wanted a coke, preferably cherry) and she’d found herself building a back-and-forth with a few of the regulars.

The bar was a nice reprieve in Wicked’s Rest, even if it brought some complicated feelings at the same time — but that seemed to go for everything Daiyu did anyway. Nothing was ever simple, no matter how much she tried to simplify it in her mind. Still, she kept coming back. To find new bounties, to collect rewards, to rub elbows with some hunters and to eat a bit after a long trek in the woods.

Today she needed a new challenge. And a cherry coke, of course, but that was something she’d already gotten a hold of. She was moving towards the bounty board now, yelling something over her shoulder at one of the few hunters her age in the bar, “I’ll hold you to that Anton! I’ll get a whiteboard up here and we’ll tally it and I’ll prove you once and for all that I’m better at hunting hellhounds.” 

She was grinning as she moved over, but then an arm hit her in the shoulder. Daiyu angled her head up (she had to do that a lot — she missed Jade, her fellow short-gal hunter) and looked at Kaden. Her grin grew a little wider. “Better look out where you’re going, big guy,” she said, demonstratively rubbing her shoulder as if she hadn’t also bumped into him. It seemed he was heading to the board too, which made her feel a hint of frustration. Kaden had seemed like a good ranger, and she really didn’t need the competition. 

“Oh, totally awesome, with me. Snow werewolf season has ended, but I’m gunning for some pollen monsters next. Like a pollen lamia or siren or something, could be cool,” she said, speaking rapidly. Kaden was very tall and built, so she couldn’t catch any sight of the board. “Don’t see you around here much. Nice to see you though — you doing good as well?” She tried to look past him, but couldn’t. “Gonna have a try at killing Flappin Flann’?” It was one of her life goals. She hated the idea of Kaden succeeding where she hadn’t yet, and not just because he was taller than her. “It’s impossible, man.”

—

For how short she was in comparison, it was still hard to block her from the board without being obvious. Kaden didn’t want to dodge left and right with every crane of her neck and tip his hand. Not without knowing a little more about her first. “Pollen monsters?” he asked, brow raised, wondering if she was joking or not. Sure it sounded implausible but that didn’t mean shit in Wicked’s Rest. He never thought he’d see a snow werewolf either so who was to say a fucking pollen siren wasn’t on the table. “Going to hope that remains theoretical. I don’t want to keep fucking sneezing while trying to stab something. Sounds like hell.”

Kaden tried to get a closer look at what was on the board, eyes skimming frantically for anything about zombies, gatlin fields, a farm, anything at all. Right, he should probably try to be casual and not a panicked goddamn mess. He took a breath and looked back at Daiyu. “Yeah, I don’t get out much anymore. Guess I’m boring like that. Or something. But fine, I’ve been fine. Really fine.” He hadn’t nearly died and then watched as half the farm animals and Prickly Pears got slaughtered on the same night. Not at all. He was fine. Which is why he was so eager to find any listings that might be of interest. Because he was fine.

“Flapping what?” He snapped his head to look at her, almost forgetting that they were in a conversation. “What’s that? Is it undead?” Putain, that was stupid to ask. They were both rangers. Not that he didn’t  hunt outside of his specialty often enough and he had to assume she did as well, especially if she survived off of bounties. “I mean, not that it– I just hadn’t heard of it before so figured it might not be a beast. All that.” 

—

“Oh, yeah,” she said, nodding, “Totally theoretical, but like, not entirely implausible, am I right? We’ve had snow monsters, so they’re absolutely next.” She turned towards the other ranger a little so she could more easily talk to him, even though he was much too tall to stand next to comfortably. Daiyu grinned regardless. “You know, I’ve heard that being allergic to pollen is just a character deficit. I personally would not sneeze once when confronted with a pollen monster, because I’m built better.”

It seemed Kaden was desperate for a bounty, which would be understandable if it weren’t for the fact that he had a proper job and everything. “Eh, not going out doesn’t make you boring. I don’t count this as going out, anyway, though I guess stuff can get pretty heated and shit here when the hour’s late.” She shrugged. “But cool, glad that you’re doing fine.” Though she didn’t know Kaden very well, he seemed like an alright bloke and a good hunter. Daiyu didn’t want him to be doing bad or whatever. Just common courtesy.

She stared at him for a moment, raising a brow, “Bro.” She turned toward the board, scanning it quickly before pointing up and jumping to tap one of the postings. “Squonk. Big fucking squonk. It’s my life goal to cash this bounty. It’s been here since I’ve been here, apparently for a long fucking time … how d’you not know about Flappy? Notorious creature, that one.” She scrunched her face up. “Gets people trapped in its flaps and all. Not at all like –” She probably shouldn’t mention that she had a pet squonk now, so she redirected her sentence. “– most other squonks.” 

—

“I’m going to hope they stay theoretical in that ca— Hey!” Kaden spun to face her. Was she calling him deficient? “It’s not a character deficit. Or defect. It’s just…” Right, what was it? “I don’t know, genetics or something.” Then again, couldn’t allergies be treated or something? He thought he’d heard something about shots from someone. Probably other hunters talking about if they could build up immunity to other kinds of monsters if they treated them like allergy shots. Kaden was pretty sure that experiment failed, come to think of it. “You’re not built better, you can barely even see the board.”

That didn’t stop her from jumping up to point out the listing for Flappy. If he was feeling generous, he would have complimented her on it. Instead, he crossed his arms as he listened to her. He expected a harrowing tale passed down by some pissed off hunter years ago. He didn’t expect it to be—

“A squonk?” The word practically stuck on the lump in his throat. It had been a long time since Kaden thought about squonks. A very long time. He tried to keep the word “wrinkles” from floating to the front of his mind, but it was impossible to suppress. The memory pushed its way to the forefront without permission every damn time. He shook away the image of the knife slicing through wrinkled flesh and the sounds of pitiful squealing, opting instead to get a better look at the bounty in question.

It really was for a fucking squonk of all things. “Wait, you’re telling me a squonk is a notorious threat? A squonk.” He repeated it like it was something one of them didn’t understand about this exchange. “You know, a squonk. The wr— flappy dog looking monsters that can barely harm a fly? They just cry all the time. The worst they can do to you is get you a little soggy and salty. How the hell are people getting caught in its flaps?” No matter how many times he read it over and tried to make it make sense, it just didn’t seem right. 

Kaden rubbed a palm down his face. “Someone is really trying to kill an innocen— harmless squonk? Really? Putain de merde, the hunters around here clearly need to get a hobby. There’s way more dangerous game to go after for fucks sake.” Was he really going to have to find this thing to try and protect it from the bounty hunters in the area?

Right. He caught a glance of Daiyu and turned to look at her properly. Would he have to protect it from her? “You haven’t tried to go after him, have you? I mean, have you seen him?”

—

“Bad genetics are just a character deficit,” Daiyu said, looking up at him with a challenging expression. It was typical hunter talk — or rather, it was typical Volkov talk, though she lacked the insight to realize that. To think herself somehow above other rangers for something like a certain surname had been instilled in her from a young age, and even though she was good at breaking things, breaking that habit had yet prove unsuccessful. “I don’t need to be taller to read what’s on the board. You’re just absurdly tall.”

She took in Kaden’s reaction with a bit of surprise, noting the way he wasn’t aware of the threat this particular squonk posted and how he called it innocent. Fries was a harmless squonk, mostly — the creature was definitely doing some kind of water damage to the hardwood floors of her rented cabin, though. 

“Yes, I know what a squonk is, and I’m telling you — this one is not like the others. It’s like …” She frowned for a moment. “What King Kong is to gorillas, you know? And man, that must be a horrible way to go. Just getting stuck in those sticky, wet flaps and slowly suffocating. I’d prefer to get mauled for sure.” It was the end that befit a ranger and Daiyu was often surprised it hadn’t happened yet. Her body wore the proof that it, too, was surprised. “It’s far from harmless, though. People died, Kaden.” 

She didn’t seem particularly moved by the people who had died as she said it, perhaps because it was all a little ludicrous. Or because she’d never really been raised to be a hunter driven by the deaths of innocents. “Besides, what kinda hobby do you suggest I get?” She gave him a glance, wondering what he’d come up with. Daiyu would like a hobby, but none seemed to fit her. Unless owning a dog was a hobby. 

At his question, she shook her head. “Nope. Super elusive, that one. I have tried, you know, but I can’t find him! Anyway — if you’re not going after him, what are you looking for today?”

—

“Guess that makes you full of character deficits, then,” Kaden shot back. “You’d have to be full of them if you’re this absurdly short.” He knew full well she wasn’t that short but years of banter between himself and Keira had found its way into the conversation with Daiyu seamlessly. It prickled at his skin, whatever the feeling was, uncomfortable and comfortingly familiar at the same time. 

All he could do was blink in response to the description of the giant squonk. It was hard to imagine any of them as dangerous creatures but the present picture being painted was unquestionably horrifying. Suffocation by squonk wasn’t an ideal way to die, he couldn’t argue that one. “King Kong just wanted to be left alone and wouldn’t have killed anyone if people had managed that much.” He was far from a movie buff but he was pretty sure that was the gist of the King Kong story. “Probably the same for the squonk. People wouldn’t die if they left it alone. Can’t suffocate you if you don’t get near it.” Sounded sensible enough to him.

“I don’t know. Running? Knitting? Gardening? I don’t fucking know what you like to do.” Hobbies had hardly been encouraged growing up and he had to assume it was similar for her. Hunters and all. There was never any extra time to fill that couldn’t be filled with training or hunting. Something useful. It was hard to shake that inclination, even now. “I don’t know but I heard they’re good for you. Hobbies.” He shrugged, not sure he’d mastered those on his own, yet. 

“Me?” There was no reason for Kaden to be shaken by the question and yet he found himself rubbing the back of his neck and shuffling his weight from one foot to the other. “Oh, uh, nothing in particular. Just seeing if there was anything about a farm.” He cleared his throat, unsure if he was saying too much. How much should he trust her? He wasn’t sure but he couldn’t pass up the opportunity for info, either. It was why he was here. “Or undead. Which isn’t— I mean, ranger but there were some complaints to animal control and I wanted to see if there was some overlap here. You know. See if it was more supernatural than animals.” Very convincing. Surely. 

—

“Hey!” Her voice was like a burst from her body, a shot through the air. One finger pressed into Kaden, “Shortness is no character deficit. Just means I don’t need to take up as much space to make an impression.” And leave impressions, that Daiyu tended to do. She gave a glower to Kaden to punctuate her point, which was a comeback she had made many times before. People loved to hold her shortness over her head (literally) and so she had had practice.

“Okay, the metaphor doesn’t go that far. I’m telling you, it’s a problem. People aren’t smart enough not to get close, so what?” Daiyu felt a kind of moral superiority that was rare to her. She wasn’t even sure if she felt any type of way about this or if she just wanted to win the argument, though. “They deserve to die just because they’re a little foolish and curious? Tsk.” Hunters were supposed to have some kind of purpose to protect others and though she barely ever felt like a protector, it was nice to pretend to be one now.

Her face scrunched up at the other’s suggestions, “I run plenty. The rest of those sound bad.” She didn’t have the patience for knitting or gardening. Hobbies were a novel concept to her, especially those that lead to some kind of fostering or creation. The closest she came was trying to become better at bouldering and caring for her pet, but those were just things she did.“You sound very convinced of that fact.” 

Kaden didn’t know the details of why the hell Emilio needed to convince Nora to come home from another country but those didn’t matter too much. Despite the issues Monty may have with the guy, Emilio was another hunter – one who seemed to have similar enough values to his own which was rare to say the least. He was going to help out. It’s what hunters did for one another, that was how you survived. And however annoying he might find Nora, the connection Emilio had with her was clear. If the situations were reversed, if it had been Alex, he knew the slayer would do whatever he could to help him. It was an easy choice to connect him and Wynne to Buzzy to get whatever papers they might need fast, no matter what that meant he might owe the guy this time.

The office in question wasn’t too far from Axis, funny enough. Kaden waited a few doors down from the entrance for the others, he knew Buzzy liked to keep it discreet. “This way,” he said when he saw the pair of them. He’d seen Wynne in and out of the cabin a few times and knew they were a good kid. If they were willing to put themselves out there for Nora, too, he had to believe Nora was worth going out on a limb for after all. Kaden approached the door of Marcelli & Associates Ltd. and rapped on the door in a pattern that was probably morse code for something that he never bothered learning. Two hard knocks back and he knew they were cleared and everyone was on the same page of what kind of business they were here for. 

Once they were all shuffled inside, Kaden shut the door and addressed the man at the desk. “Long time no see, Buzzy,” he said with a nod. “Got a favor to ask you.”

“And you brought the whole gang with you to do it,” the man replied. Buzzy looked up from whatever notes he was scrawling and got a good look at all of them for the first time, his face souring in a way that Kaden didn’t get a good feeling about. “You know I don’t hand out favors, Langley. Even to you. And especially not to him.” His eyes narrowed as he stared down Emilio and it was clear that this wasn’t the first time they’d met. Putain de merde, what the fuck had the slayer done to piss this guy off already? Besides being himself. “Anyway, you,” he said to Wynne. “Who are you, kid? You a hunter, too? You must be some kind of special if Langley’s daring to drag you in to see me. What do you need?”

—

Citizenship had never been a particularly big concern for Emilio. It was the last thing most hunters worried about. When your ‘life plans’ included dying a violent death before you were forty, entering into a long, drawn out process for the grand prize of paperwork wasn’t really high on your to do list. He never thought it would bite him in the ass like this, though. Nora, in another country, in a community he had more than just a bad feeling about, and Emilio trapped an ocean away with no way to get to her… It wasn’t something he wanted to experience. So, when Langley mentioned knowing a guy who could get him papers good enough to land him on an airplane, Emilio hadn’t hesitated. It would cut the time involved in the process for Wynne in half, too.

But… the closer they got to the guy’s ‘office,’ the less confident Emilio felt. The streets were familiar, obviously — this was close to his apartment, after all. But the building Kaden led them to was familiar, too. “What did you say this guy’s name was again?” Emilio asked lowly as Kaden knocked on the door. Before the ranger could answer, said door was swinging open to reveal an unfortunately familiar face. Emilio tensed, jaw tightening. Right. 

Of course Kaden’s contact was someone Axis had once screwed over. He could still remember the case — some trembling twenty-something who’d had her identity stolen, begging for a solution in a way Emilio was never going to be able to say no to. He wasn’t sure what the end result had been for Buzzy’s business, but he knew it had taken a hell of a hit. And, given the look the other man was giving Emilio, he hadn’t exactly forgotten about it. Maybe if Emilio stayed quiet enough, he could still get what he needed out of this. He glanced to Wynne, figuring their odds were better here if he let them do the talking.

—

They wondered if there was such a thing as a chronically nervous person in the field of psychology. If there was, they probably were one. Wynne walked into Marcelli & Associates Ltd. with a tightness in their stomach, even if they were with two strong and capable hunters. At least, they assumed that Kaden was strong and capable. It seemed like a fair assessment, up until now, especially considering his willingness to help with this very illegal thing.

That was one of the sources of their discomfort. Though they didn’t always agree with the law and especially not the government, they didn’t enjoy breaking rules. But no longer were they as passive as they had once been and it was simple, really. They needed to help their friend in need, who would do the same for them. So they tried to stand straight and tried to make polite eye contact with the man called Buzzy. (Was that his real name?) Buzzy did not like Emilio, which was a red flag, even if Emilio was very good at making enemies. Wynne tried not to jump to his defense.

They were asked a question, after all, and they were good at answering questions. “I’m Wynne and I need a passport. It’s not — it won’t have to be a favor,” they clarified, “We will pay for it, of course.” That was something they had grown more used to, over this past year. The power of money. How it could make many things happen, even if they hadn’t quite figured out how to do that. “And oh, no. I’m not a hunter. I’m just –” They weren’t sure. “I’m Wynne.” They remembered themself. “Please.”

Buzzy’s sour expression had a hint of confusion to it as he took stock of the stranger in the room, looking up at Langley for an explanation. “The fuck.” It was half-question, half-statement. A finger pointed at Cortez without addressing him. “And I reckon he’s in need of one too? Don’t have a falsified document growing tree in my backyard.” Heaven knew it wouldn’t grow in Worm Row, anyway.

—

Kaden raised a brow and looked at Emilio. How the fuck had he screwed this up before he walked in the goddamn door? He waited for some kind of explanation from the slayer, but none came. Putain de merde. 

“Cut the crap,” Kaden said to the guy. “I know you can get a passport or two in your sleep. It’s not like I’m asking for a social security number or five.” As much as he hated leveraging his last name in this town, there were some times that it came in handy. It was risky running around in hunter circles, considering half the people he cared about weren’t exactly human, but sometimes the risk was worth taking. 

“Oh, do you?” Buzzy said, shaking his head. “You know how this works, Langley, but let me explain to yous two.” The man leaned back in his seat as he addressed Emilio and Wynne in turn. “Money is great. Love it. Big fan. But if you ask me for special favors, I ask special prices, got it?” Kaden was hoping he wasn’t going to say that but he’d be lying if he said he hadn’t expected it. “Frankly, Cortez, I don’t think you can afford my prices. Not after the mess you and your little detective agency got me into. I have to applaud your audacity, though, I’l give you that. Try and shut me down for identity theft then waltz on in here for forged papers.” He burst out a laugh to punctuate his point. “So for now, let’s talk about the kid. You need a passport? And you need it quick, ey?” Kaden shifted nervously. He didn’t know if his “good” name was going to be enough to swing this deal, but it was worth a shot. 

“Now, pardon my French.” There was a moment’s hesitation as his eyes darted to Kaden. “No offense, Langley, but what are you, then? If you’re not a hunter, I’m assuming there’s some other kind of reason you’re coming to me and not the good ol’ US government. So what is it? You some kind of supernatural? That it? Or some kinda criminal?” Buzzy held up his hands in a mock surrender. “No judgment here, kid, none at all. Just need to know the truth of things so I can get the fakes right.” He laughed at his own joke. “You know I’m a little less inclined to help on account of you being with him,” he said pointing to Emilio, “but a gig’s a gig. And I have a few favors I could use taken care of so depending on the complexity, I’ll entertain it.” 

—

He was practically biting his tongue at this point, just trying to keep the smart remarks from slipping out. Axis’s policy tended to be more or less the same as the one Buzzy boasted here — a job was a job, and money was money. There’d been nothing personal about the job Emilio had done that had landed Buzzy in hot water but, roles reversed, Emilio doubted he’d have been bending over backwards to help Buzzy, either. And it wasn’t like he could afford a lot here; Buzzy was right about that. When it came to cash, Emilio was always scrambling. And with Teddy out of town and Nora having made off with their credit card to Ireland… Emilio was cut off from his usual cash flow. 

It had been a long shot, anyway. There’d been a moment of hope when Kaden said he might have a way to get Emilio and Wynne to Ireland, but hope wasn’t the kind of thing Emilio banked on. He’d been prepared already for it to be just Wynne and Regan’s friend, even if he hated the idea now just as much as he had when it had been introduced. It was far better than Wynne making the journey alone… even if the loss of control over the situation had Emilio’s skin crawling.

“Fine,” he ground out, exhaling shakily. “Just them, then. If we do the favors, will you get them what they need to fly somewhere?” He resisted the urge to add that he was more than happy to beat the necessary documents out of Buzzy’s vault; something told him that wasn’t the most effective strategy here.

—

Some of the talk went over their head and Wynne wasn’t sure what to say, so they kept quiet when it came to transactions and special favors. They didn’t have a lot of favors they could offer besides making meals and maybe fixing a leaky faucet, but they doubted the other wanted that kind of favor, or the one people at gas stations had asked for when on the road. They tried not to shiver at the thought. 

They nodded. “Yes, I need it quick,” they said. “I’m – human. And not a criminal.” Not convicted, anyway. They had condemned a man to death, which was probably not great. “But I …” Wynne swallowed. Maybe they should use the word they hated. “I escaped my commune that’s like a cult, so I don’t have much paperwork. And it will take a long time to do it officially, probably longer considering …” Well, the aforementioned not-a-cult. “Because of the nature of the place I left. They’ll want … answers and questions and everything, right? It will be a whole thing that’s best avoided.” They weren’t sure if that was true, but it seemed about right. “And I just —” They grit their teeth. “Don’t have the time.” Or the energy. Maybe the government would want to see their parents for this. Maybe it would lead to more and more things spiraling out of control now that the demon was no longer capable of protecting the Protherians. They needed to go get Nora, not bring bureaucracy to their former community. “I have a birth certificate, if that helps.”

They were looking at Emilio, wondering what the favors could be, but tried to focus on Buzzy. The idea that Emilio might not get a passport was concerning, but it was better to get one than none. It was also not their place to argue right now. “We will do it.”

—

Kaden was practically screaming his mind for Emilio to not fuck this up and to just keep his fucking mouth shut. Not that he had any delusions otherwise, but it was clear that neither of them were telepathic since the slayer just had to fucking chime in. Kaden gave his leg a small kick, hoping it wasn’t the one with the busted knee, to tell him to cut it out since the telepathy clearly wasn’t coming anytime soon.

“A cult, you say?” Buzzy asked, raising a brow. “I feel like I should be asking yous which one so I don’t accidentally ruin a business opportunity or two.” He waved his hand like he was swatting the notion away. “Actually don’t tell me, then I’m not lying when I say I don’t know shit. But sure, if you do the favors and if you don’t interfere with my business again, I get them a passport in a few days. Kapeesh?” Buzzy looked directly at Emilio as he answered the question. “Anyway, birth certificate helps plenty. Makes my job easier, one less thing to forge and a few more things to use for inspiration. Now, I’ll let yous g—

Kaden held up his hands to cut the guy off. “Before we agree, what kind of prices are we paying, Buzzy?” He was more than willing to pay them but he wanted to know what kind of shit he was getting into before they jumped off that particular cliff. 

“Langley,” Buzzy replied, putting a hand to his heart as if it were wounded, “do you really not trust me after all this?” The look Kaden shot him seemed to be enough of an answer for him. “Fine, fine, I’ll tell you. See I know you’re a ranger and I’ve got a siren that could use a shake down. Figured like something that would be up your alley. Hell, I bet that’s your typical Tuesday night, am I right?” Kaden’s face remained hardened, not as amused by the joke as Buzzy. “You hunters, are you all this sullen all the time? Geeze. I’d hate to go to one of your parties.” He said, shaking his head. “Anyway, got a few odd jobs like that for the two of yous. Shouldn’t be a problem.”

Kaden nodded, it was about what he expected. He didn’t love it but it would be worth it. At least, it better be. Buzzy shoved a contract to them to sign and the ranger had no intention of reading it all line by line but he skimmed it. Looked pretty similar to the one he signed last time for his own papers so he went ahead and signed, handing the pen to Wynne and Emilio in turn. 

“Perfect,” Buzzy said with a grin. “There’s one more thing, though.” With that, he reached down to pull out another piece of paper. This one was also full of legalese that Kaden couldn’t and wouldn’t parse through.

“The hell is that?” Kaden asked, brows furrowed. “If this is some kind of—”

This time it was Buzzy who held up his hands to silence Kaden. “Not a trick but you want a rush job, I need a little extra.” His eyes fell back to Emilio. “I’ve got a feeling Cortez in particular could be useful. What with that little detective business you got there. I’ve got some people I could use off my back.” He shoved the paper and pen towards the slayer. “What do you say?”

—

Kaden kicked his leg (the good one, thankfully), and Emilio shot him a glare that was far more half-hearted than what he might usually deliver. He’d been on edge since the moment Nora made her big announcement that she’d snuck along to Ireland to hang out with a community of banshees, and the fact that Wynne would soon be joining her, that Emilio would be an ocean away with no control over the situation… It only made things worse. Already, he could feel the shadows swirling in his mind, shrouding him in a darkness he didn’t quite know how to get out of. He kept going back to Mexico, to all the things that could happen when you were only a street away. How much worse could it be with an ocean blocking your path? 

Buzzy was speaking again, and it wasn’t politeness or self preservation or Kaden’s hard glare that kept Emilio from interrupting. He could barely hear the guy at all, could barely make out the sound of his voice over the sound of blood rushing in his ears. By the time he unpacked and translated Buzzy’s words, it was too late to make any dry comments, anyway. Any other day, he would have hopped in to help Wynne, or made a remark about how hunters didn’t really have parties, or told some bad joke at Kaden’s expense that no one but him would find funny. But not today. Today, Emilio was more of a shell than usual. And wasn’t that saying something?

A paper was put in front of him, and he signed it. There was no time to read it — it would have taken ages, anyway. Then, there was another paper, and Buzzy was looking at him. Emilio forced himself up to the surface enough to look back, to actually listen. This is important. His mother’s voice was a harsh echo in his mind. How can I expect you to learn when you don’t listen? When you can’t sit still, when you won’t pay attention? I expect better from you. He swallowed, setting his jaw in a hard line. Buzzy didn’t know him well enough to notice anything off about the expression. He wasn’t even sure if Wynne or Kaden did. Maybe there was no one left alive who knew Emilio with any kind of clarity.

The request was vague and fuzzy and not something Emilio would have said yes to in any other situation. He didn’t get into things with people like Buzzy without knowing exactly what he was signing up for. Any other day, he’d have told Buzzy to give him more information or fuck all the way off. But this was for Nora. This was to get Nora home safe. There was nothing Emilio wouldn’t do to achieve that goal. If it cost him his soul, that was fine. It wasn’t like he got much use out of it. “Fine,” he agreed, holding out a hand for the paper. “Whatever.”

—

They winced as Buzzy called their former commune a cult, even if they’d described it as one. “It’s just kind of like one. And it’s not close. It’s far from here.” Wynne said the lie with relative ease, as it felt like Moosehead was lightyears away, even if sometimes it felt like it was in their backyard. They felt around in their bag, took out a slip of printer paper. “Here is the copy of my birth certificate.” 

It was dizzying, what was transpiring before them. The man named Buzzy spoke to Kaden and Emilio about prizes, hardly paying them any mind. Wynne would prefer to also pay, but they also figured they weren’t very good at what it was Buzzy was asking for — shaking down a siren sounded like something they’d not be able to do convincingly. Or at all. They glanced nervously between the two hunters and the strange man and hoped they wouldn’t hold it against them. 

Emilio and Kaden both signed the contract without much thought and so they did too, following them and their expertise blindly. Wynne hadn’t signed many contracts before and so far most of them had done well for them, as they’d been for jobs and their former apartment. They didn’t fully understand their concept, though. As if signing your name was going to make you properly indebted to someone. For that you should ask demons for help, they figured. Not just a pen.

There was another one, signed by just Emilio. Their stomach felt tight. At least Emilio was part of this more than Kaden was, even if it seemed like he wasn’t going to get a passport. They swallowed and remembered what the slayer had told them. Their eyes were big and their voice a little meek. It didn’t require a whole lot of acting. “Are you sure you can’t get one for him too? He’s …” They glanced at Emilio, whose face was set. “Sorry.” He did not look sorry.

—

Kaden glanced over, watching Emilio as Buzzy pulled out the second contract. He couldn’t tell if the distant look he had was to keep himself from punching the guy sitting at the desk or if he was actually failing to pay attention. When Cortez realized it was his turn to sign his own paper, the ranger tensed, worried that the man was going to grab the thing and rip it in two. Not that he would blame him — Buzzy was a pain in the ass. 

A cackling pain in the ass, too. He threw his head back and chortled at Wynne’s remark. “Is that so, kid?” He had to contain more laughter. “That bastard ain’t sorry about nothing. Are ya?” he goaded. Kaden was ready to step in between the two men, worried that someone (Emilio) was about to lunge across the desk and strangle their forgery guy before he could get the passport needed. 

“Come on, Buzzy,” Kaden said, rolling his eyes. “You survived and you have him on the hook. At least consider it.”

The man sighed as he sorted his stack of newly signed contracts. “I’ll consider it.” There was a spark of hope that lit in Kaden’s chest, stupid as that was. “But it’ll take me a while to consider. And I’ll need that favor first. Then I start considering if I’ve changed my mind.” Right, should have remembered it was foolish to hope around these sorts of folks. 

“It’s fine. We just need the one for the kid right away. Right?” Kaden looked over to the other hunter, hoping he wouldn’t fucking argue. For once.

“And you’ve got it,” Buzzy said with a smug smile. “Come back in a day or two and I’ll have something for the kid and marching orders for yous twos.” Kaden knew he wasn’t going to enjoy whatever those fucking marching orders were but at least he didn’t have to do this shit alone this time. “See, was that so hard?”

—

Wynne was trying, that much was clear. And if Emilio were smarter or better, he’d try, too. He’d pretend to be something he wasn’t, he’d put on an apologetic mask. But there was no real point to it, was there? Buzzy made up his mind the moment they walked through the door. They were lucky he was helping Wynne — there was no way in hell he’d help Emilio. This would end the same way everything always did, and Emilio knew it. He wondered if explaining the situation more would help matters, if admitting that him not getting a passport could mean the difference between life and death for Wynne and Nora and Elias and maybe Regan, too, would change Buzzy’s mind. But, deep down, Emilio knew the answer. He always had. 

“I’m not sorry for doing my fucking job,” he ground out, doing his best not to take a swing at the guy standing in front of him now. “I’m sorry you don’t want to do yours.” It wasn’t the right thing to say, but was that a surprise? Emilio never said the right thing, never made the moves that needed making. He was a goddamn mess on his best days, and today was one of his worst. There was never any chance of him swallowing his anger well enough to grovel. Everyone in this room knew it. 

Maybe Buzzy would get him the passport someday, after he’d held it over Emilio’s head long enough to satisfy. But it would be too late then, and everyone in the room knew it. What was the point in getting a passport when he no longer needed one? Who did it serve? It wasn’t as if Emilio was the sort to take a vacation.

His jaw was tight as Kaden turned to look at him, blood rushing in his ears as the anger warmed his chest. Kaden needed him to agree, but he didn’t trust his voice. He nodded his head instead, curt and tense. 

It took everything he had not to take a swing at Buzzy. If they hadn’t been doing this for Nora, to help Nora, he probably would have. Even now, knowing the stakes, he felt like he was physically holding himself back to the point of aching muscles. The moment Buzzy agreed, Emilio turned on his heel, shoving by Kaden and moving a little more gently past Wynne towards the door.

—

Emilio didn’t look sorry, and even worse, he confirmed that he was not sorry. Wynne felt a rush of frustration that made them feel ashamed of even feeling it. They worked their jaw, averting their gaze from the three men in the room. They were afraid they’d cry if one of them looked at them wrong. Emilio not getting a passport was bad news, after all.

They remained quiet as the conversation fizzled out, save for their, “Appreciate it,” to Buzzy. It was accompanied with a respectful nod, even if they thought him a very bothersome man. Sometimes you had to deal with bothersome people to get what you wanted, that was something they knew by now. It was a frustrating and hard lesson to learn, but it was one that stuck.

And so they all went out, Kaden at the front and Wynne at the rear. They closed the door behind them with a softness that the others would probably not have afforded Buzzy. Their eyes moved between Kaden and Emilio now, big and still teetering on the edge of crying. “You could have —,” they began at Emilio, but they shook their head and left their sentence unfinished. Then, at Kaden: “Thank you. And … if I can ever do something for you to make it up to you …” They didn’t have a lot of skills. Maybe they’d just bake him some bread, they could do that. Kaden was good at cooking himself, they recalled, so maybe he’d appreciate that.

There was something very wrong about this scene. It wasn’t the contents of the scene itself, those were interesting — a woman holding a knife against the throat of a struggling man, who sometimes seemed more wolf than man, and her sleeper being panicked by the scene. It lacked color, this scene: and not in the sense that Inge thought there needed to be a change of decor, but in the sense that everything seemed black and white.

Did this man dream of his memories the way shitty TV shows depicted flashbacks, with a filter over them? Was this even a memory, or just a very gauche nightmare? Either way, the woman was too stunned to nightmare. Inge watched as the knife slit over the wolf/human neck, producing a healthy and thick flow of blood.

There was something to be said about messing around with the color of blood, making it something oily and tar-like, or even dark and rotting-green. But this was all wrong: this blood ought to be red. Inge let shadows fall over the scene, as if all the light sources were out and took the couch, the man watching, the murderess and the victim to somewhere else. Everything and everyone stood in the same positions as they had before, but now they were in an abandoned, dried out field that stretched out forever. No dice. Even in a scenario of her own creation, there was no color. 

—

The doorway felt wider and narrower than he remembered all at the same time. The space between was black, a void of nothingness. It didn’t matter, his focus was only on one thing, the scene set in front of him. The same one that was set over and over again. Keira with a knife to Damien’s throat, but this time, he was transforming into the wolf. His fingernails were claws, his teeth fangs, and his eyes a glowing yellow. There was blood spilling everywhere, but Kaden couldn’t tell if it was from the gash to his throat or from the bite to her arm. It was all a mess, a tangle of violence and gore. 

Only, it was all in black and white. Everything. The horror remained the same. Kaden couldn’t reach them, no matter how far he ran, he couldn’t get any closer, couldn’t stop it.

The world went dark. “No.” Where did they go? He had to find them, he had to stop it. He scrambled, trying to feel around in the dark, but there was nothing. He couldn’t even find the ground, though he was standing on something. 

The light returned and he was surrounded by grass, gray and lifeless. The couch and the scene was still there, still out of reach. The meadow they stood in wasn’t peaceful, it was stagnant, like standing water, everything still and decaying. He looked around for any sign of life. All he found was a figure. One he didn’t recognize. His brow furrowed. “Hello?” he called out.

—

There was something very wrong with this man, this night or herself. Ingeborg didn’t want to believe there was something amiss with herself, but the sheer concept of it was enough to make her distracted. Why wasn’t the blood red? What was the point of a memory of a gruesome murder if there wasn’t that horror-ish stream of blood, thick like tar but as red as poppies?

Her sleeper, a man with a thick beard and pleasant features, scrambled in his search. Inge watched the blood flow from the throat, increased the flow and tried her mightiest to make it red. To fill the gray field, gray sky, gray scene with nothing but red until it coverited everything and raised like water. Sticking to their ankles. They could drown in it, but only if it turned red.

And then he was talking to her, her presence known – which wasn’t how it was supposed to be! – and Inge opened her mouth. Her attention was no longer on the couch-scene, but herself — and as she spoke it wasn’t with a human mouth, but a bird’s beak. Sharp, black and crow-like. Why would she be herself, especially here? “His blood’s all wrong,” she cawed, screeched, bellowed, “Where’s the color? Why’s his blood all wrong?” 

—

This was wrong somehow. He couldn’t put his finger on it. Kaden knew this scene, he knew the fear, the liminal space, even the lack of color reflected what he was used to seeing by now. But there was an unsettling presence, more than usual. The blood kept flowing and flowing, the screams continued, the growling and snarling, too. Still, the color all around them remained gray and drab. He couldn’t tell if that made the scene worse or not. 

He turned back to the woman who was now part crow and he stumbled back, slipping and falling into the river of blood. His sister’s blood. His friend’s blood. Maybe even his father’s. He could feel it rising steadily and he could feel his limbs pulled under when he attempted to stand again. The blood was going to drown him, he was sure of it. Even if it wasn’t red, he could smell the iron. “Wh—what?” He asked as she squawked at him. “Why is it wrong?” He looked around at the scene. “I— I don’t know. The color, uh…” He tried to remember, tried to piece things together. “The mushrooms. It’s the mushrooms.” It was then that he realized the whole time, his lips hadn’t been moving and all of his words had been echoing in his mind to hers. Putain de merde. 

—

He wasn’t speaking but he was, his lips sealed together but his voice loud and clear in her head and all around him. Was he colorblind? That was certainly an option and it would be intriguing to know that colorblind people dreamed without color too. Some neuroscientist would probably be jumping at that knowledge, but Inge didn’t care. It was wrong. Besides, he mentioned shrooms. “Wait, you’re tripping right now?”

The bird cackled, laughing in its animalistic form because Inge was laughing. Of course she ended up in the dream of someone who just took shrooms. Maybe she’d even stay a bit, see what his own subconscious would throw at her. But the scene remained relatively tame, the field still dead and gray. That was until a creature slithered towards her, a literally snake in the grass. Interesting. What was more interesting was that it wasn’t a snake, it was a baguette. And it wasn’t just a baguette in gray tones, but it was striped. She laughed again, bending down. None of this was real. The bird-woman picked up the snake around its neck, wiggling it in the sky. “Who’s this?”

—

“Tripping?” Kaden’s confusion was overshadowed by the fear of it all. “No, not those sorts of mushrooms. These were… They were striped. Like maybe a–” Even though he wasn’t speaking aloud, the presence of something slithering stole his words away. Like a drain had been opened up below him, the black and white blood seeped away into the ground, leaving the ranger covered in gray goo and lying in the grass. The scent hit him before he saw it. The scent of freshly baked bread.

The baguette slithered towards him and was just about to strike when the strange bird or woman or whoever, he couldn’t tell, swooped in and grabbed it. “Good question.” As he said that, he could smell a whole bakery in the distance. “Baguettes. Evil baguettes. I don’t fucking understand but we have to–” Kaden pushed himself up and started to run away, as fast as he could through the sea of never ending grey grass. It was like he was running in place no matter how fast he moved his legs. Knife. He just need a knife. And with a flash of white, lightning struck and Kaden was face to face with Damien’s dead body, slumped on the floor. The knife covered in his blood was there next to him in the grass. The ranger only needed to reach out and grab it, but instead he collapsed under the weight of the grief he was carrying with him. 

— 

So there was no color and no sound coming from his mouth, but there was smell. Even Inge wasn’t completely immune to the smell of freshly baked bread, and through her bird’s beak she sniffed the snake/baguette in her claw. Part of her considered taking a bite, letting herself have her fun with this ridiculously wrong dream, but she thought better of it as she felt herself grow more satiated with actual nutrients. The sleeper was scared. He was running. She smiled. 

She ripped the snake in two and it broke like a baguette would, revealing airy bread inside. With bird-like speed she fluttered over to the dead body and the knife. A lot of people in this town have murdered loved ones, Inge thought. She joined the scene of mourning and extended a bird’s claw to the other, in which she held half of the baguette/snake. “Here,” she said, dipping the other half of the bread into the dead man’s blood as if it was some kind of sauce. Tar-like, black sauce, because there was still no color. It might as well be a chocolate sauce. “EAT.” A demand, now, ripping off part of the dipped-bread-snake with her beak and gesturing at the other to do the same. 

— 

Kaden jumped when a bird’s talon reached out to him. Looking up, he saw the bird lady was there in front of him, standing over Damien’s dead body and holding the pieces of the snake baguette. She sopped the bread in his friend’s blood and even though it was all black and white and everything looked and felt wrong, Kaden could feel his stomach churn. And she commanded him to eat as she did the same. 

The ranger was about to push himself off the ground, to run away again, but when he looked down, his hands were holding two pieces of the strange bread. Blood was seeping out from the baguette and his hands were covered in it before long. He tried to drop them, to shake them away, but the bread stayed put. The blood didn’t stop flowing, either, dripping down and coating his wrists and his arms. “EAT,” he heard echoing in his head. “N-no,” he tried to say, but his hands moved closer to his face, as if they were under someone else’s control. “No,” he tried again but it wasn’t doing anything to change the fact that the blood soaked bread was only getting closer to his mouth. 

This couldn’t be real. Even in this town, this couldn’t be real. Putain, he hoped this wasn’t real. 

—

He was terrified, she could feel it. She could feel it feeding her as she munched on the dream bread, as she watched him be moved by some kind of invisible force to eat the bread. Inge could fathom, somewhere, that this was a horrifying thing to make someone do — but that was the point, wasn’t it? To inspire terror. To push people’s imaginations further than their own mortal subconsciousness could. 

Maybe she should be affected, though, by his pleas. But she wasn’t forcing his hand, that was all him — or at least some fucked up part of him. “Bon appetit,” she said, using a clawed hand to tap the bread from its bottom, so it was forced against his lips. Inge waited until his mouth made proper contact with it all and then she decided it was enough.

He was getting distracted. They always got distracted when it became a little too scary or confrontational for them, and that was often a sure sign that they’d wake up. Inge had no interest in seeing her sleepers frozen in fear, so she returned to where he was resting and then fled, into the astral, wondering when she’d revisit this strange man.

—

As the taloned fingers pushed the bread towards his mouth, it all became too much. This wasn’t real. It couldn’t be real. This was a dream. The bird lady faded away and the rest of the world crumbled around him. Everything went black just as Kaden’s eyes opened and he sprung up off the air mattress. 

Putain de merde. Another fucking nightmare. At least he didn’t scream when he woke up this time. Granted, he couldn’t even whisper at the moment thanks to the damn mushrooms. The whole thing was weirder than normal, though. Who the hell was that bird woman, anyway? He was pretty sure it wasn’t anyone he knew. Maybe it was someone he saw in the shelter the other day. Kaden ran his palm down his face, rubbing his eyes and accepting the fact that he likely wasn’t getting any more sleep tonight.