Zoe Marshall

"This is def like the fanciest dinner I've ever been to. Really thankful part of the entry didn't require being able to cook it!" she joked, wide grin across the table before yanking herself back from explaining how she once burned a pot with boiling water. The box of mac was not clear, okay? Not the point, anyways! "But this must be just another Tuesday night for you, right? Big fancy dinners for super dates. Bet you have like a ton of stories! Oh! Especially with... well, you know..."

tammy.

“Mhmm, they might misinterpret it, though.” Not that Tammy had any idea what was going on, only that the ouroboros was the same as that from The Revival. Again, there was that dizzying feeling he’d felt talking to Damion, an inkling that he was standing at a threshold, about to take a step into a world he didn’t understand. “We can call them later.” Worrying about the legality of their actions could come later, when he wasn’t pacing a freezing alley in stiletto heels, taking photos of a dead fucking body. When Joan wasn’t trying to lick Poldark’s cold, corpse toes. “Baby, no – oh, Ash!” Instantly, Tammy perked up; if there was anyone they needed in this situation, it was a military agent. “Of course, I can call him.”

Tammy snapped one more picture of the words on Poldark’s chest before returning to Zoe; he felt bad leaving her in the lurch, hand returning to her arm by way of reassurance. “Are you sure you want to look?” He tried to check in with her, making sure she wasn’t going to faint or something: vaguely, he thought he should be less numbed to this kind of thing, but he couldn’t dredge up any deeper emotion than vague disgust. “Alright, um – tell me if it’s too much, okay? You’re not obligated to look.” Handing her his phone, Tammy took hers, flipping through the contacts until he reached Agent Ash, the name bringing a soft smile to his lips.

“Hey, Ash… yeah, I’m alright. We’re both alright, I guess, Zoe’s a bit shaken up…” He glanced back to the body to give him a better description. “It’s Poldark. Dead, for the record, and not cleanly. I think someone wants to send a message.” Muting the phone for a moment, he turned back to Zoe. “Ash is on his way. We just have to wait.”

When he gave the drunk lady his number out of worry for her safety that night when she insisted on going home alone, Ashton didn’t expect to get a text back days long later about a completely different thing altogether. Zoe being completely vague and ominous did not help with what he should be preparing, what he should bring, who he should prepare to call. In the end he safely tucked a handgun and a butterfly knife, just in case, he couldn’t see himself needing anything more should there be any threats.

He was already in the car when he received the call from Zoe, only for Tammy’s voice to ring through, “hey, just stay there and stay safe, I’m on my way. 3 minutes. Is it muse related?” His car was turning closer, their location dropped off in an alleyway, he’d parked slightly further out and jog the rest of the distance, scope out their surroundings. “Oh- so the real Poldark that pretended to be dead but wasn’t dead is now actually dead?” Ashton sighed, a light tone to his confusing words as the gas pedal was pressed. “Thanks for telling me, Zoe wouldn’t say anything, don’t touch the body, and make sure no one is watching you.” His instructions were to the point, counting down the seconds before his GPS finally inched towards the point. 

Ashton got out of his car, immediately blues surveying the close vicinity, no one was around, which was good, concealing back his gun in his bomber jacket. “Hey, no one’s close by, we got some time,” he bent down the look at the body, completely unfazed by any of it, tone clinical, emotionless, quick to cover everything, “how did you guys find him, did you call the police, and do we know this is the real Poldark?” He put on some gloves, memorizing it’s position before starting to examine the body, “I may have to call it in.. depending on who did this,” to a trained eye, it feels really on the nose, “and I might know who.”

She was lucky she didn't catch the puppy dog she had thought was so cute try to lick the toes of a dead man; it probably would have been the last straw of the night, imagination running wild enough to taste the same blood and flesh against her tongue. Too prone to suggestion, but that seemed to be more apparent when she was with others. She didn't understand why, at least in the moment, not that it would do her any good now when all she could feel was the pit of her stomach.

"I can do it," she assured him and herself at once, reaching out for the phone as she took in a breath. She held it tight in her lungs, still nervous to have her eyes catch the screen. Her trembling had grown weaker, a sure sign of strength as she steeled herself up enough to glance. It took a few tries, darting away once or twice before knitting her brows to focus while Tammy spoke into the call. Another nod to acknowledge he was on his way while she inspected, zooming into the chest. "Dolus malus," words read aloud before she turned around, one step at a time, cautious as she faced the body in the flesh, no piece of glass to separate her this time. It felt like her soul flinched, inching closer to her new friend, and yet she didn't look away. Latin. Who spoke in Latin terms these days? You'd have to be part of something really old for that. The cult.

Ash's voice brought her out of her foggy thoughts, just enough clarity to gather together a few things, many that were just echoes of Laurie's words. "I think it's Sacra Moons," she blurted out to him, words tumbling over themselves as she stared at him, shock still mystifying her face before she blinked. "I uhm.. no," she finally backtracked, catching on in a belated moment what he had asked with a shake of her head. "I mean, I don't-I don't know if it's really really him, like DNA and all, but... It's him. It's too much for it not to be."

Laurie gave her an odd look; it took him a while to realise that she must not know what muses were. Most people in the art world were in on its little secret – but he supposed he couldn’t expect a young journalist to be one of those people, when she was only just dipping her toes in. “Not quite.” Though that was accurate; even the parts of history he hadn’t lived through fascinated him. Each and every era could reveal different things about the human condition, mostly through art. “Battle of Waterloo. It’s pretty famous. I was there.” And came out all the worse for it; he smiled ruefully, even through the throbbing of his headache. 

Once they reached Laurie’s office, he was more or less preoccupied by trying to find the book; he stopped short when she offered the sunglasses, brushing them aside with a shake of his head that dragged out another wince. “I’m ok, thanks – the bloody lights aren’t that bright, anyway.” He put his own glasses back on so he could read the book, only glancing up again when she mentioned muses. “I mean, it’ll take a while to explain, but –” nevermind, Zoe was already ploughing onward, focused on the symbols instead. Her sudden excitement would’ve been endearing if her raised voice hadn’t made his pounding head ten times worse; he tried to gesture for her to turn it down a notch, but his attention was quickly captured by what she said. A tip – those never boded well. “Wait – look, you’re right – about the immortality, that is, I hope not the fucking sacrifice – and I’ll explain in a bit, but who gave you the tip? Did you get any indication?” Laurie ran a hand through his hair, trying to put together a list of possibilities. “Because people wouldn’t just give you that kind of tip unless they had an ulterior motive…”

"Yeah, I've heard of it before, I just--I'm sorry, you said..." her voice trailed off, torn between questioning herself and him before she chewed on her bottom lip. "You said... you were there...?" She was confident this time that she had heard him right, only adding to a newfound sense of discomfort. The knowledge that in the end he was only a stranger to her amplified in her mind, knowing nothing about who she had decided to force into meeting late at night in a building that only he had the keys to, especially one that was having aches in his head. Zoe swallowed, taking a small step away in distance but nothing more. The allure of finding out what was happening was enough to keep her otherwise anchored, even if it was a questionable decision.

Ashton: huh. ok i kinda see it.

Ashton: so what's the pi and the sos in the name? nvm it doesn't matter, added you

Ashton: gross, it's already drained 15%, its been barely a hot minute

Ashton: okay i'm omw, i'll be with you in 5, 10 tops. stay put or go to somewhere safe nearby.

Ashton: if you could, please ask tammy to give me a call, let me talk to him.

Zoe: The pi and sos?

Zoe: Idk I'll def think about that later kinda hard to think right now. Didn't think this would be what I'd text you about

Zoe: Picasso! It's Picasso. Sorry I just got it T_T

Tammy kept an arm around Zoe, knowing she probably had less experience with death than he did. Everything came second to his own death; seeing Poldark’s blood sprayed across the alley, his insides opened, couldn’t hit as deep of a nerve as seeing his own blood spilled on the tarmac, his own life slipping away, inch by agonising inch. If anything, Poldark fucking deserved it. A lot of his clients did: it wasn’t Tammy’s place to judge, but some of the men who came to him were nothing more than bloated worms, believing they had a right to power, a right to a legacy.

He shook himself out of his thoughts, turning back to Zoe as she fumbled with her phone. “Is that someone the police? Because we should probably call the police.” Yet he couldn’t shake his curiosity; the scene looked like it had been set up symbolically, Poldark’s body splayed, arms raised, legs parted. Tammy was more immediately concerned with Zoe, putting supporting hand on her back for a moment, before she asked him to check.

“Okay –” Stepping closer, Tammy pulled out his phone, breath catching as he noticed the grisly details of the killing. “I think there’s a snake here, it’s kind of – encircling him?” A couple of pictures snapped, evidence that might be useful later. “It kind of looks like that Da Vinci drawing, the man with all his limbs spread out – and there’s something written on his chest.”

Breathe. Text. Breathe again. She just had to stick to that until she was able to calm her nerves. It wasn't until she got to the third reply with Ash did she realize her hands were trembling, a rush of adrenaline spiking her blood and nerves, unable to control it. She hated that about herself, body a vessel for whatever emotional reaction dictated, helpless to it. Both sets of fingers held to her phone like a lifeline, forgetting when she had let go of Tammy, warmed by his arm as she lifted her head up to see him.

"It... prob should be..." she muttered, missing any defense. "Do you think this is illegal?" she suddenly thought aloud with wider eyes before her breath was forced out, even in all its shakiness, last scrap of it tossed out with a shake of the head. No. Let's not add on any more worries tonight. "It's uhm... I guess a friend? I got drunk on him and prob scared him," she admitted too honestly, filter blown. "He says he knows you. Ash? Ashton? Could you like give him a call after the pics?"

Ashton: i'll.. have to download it.

Ashton: no laughs it's okay, i have no idea what that means

Ashton: Tammy? is he okay? hurt? any immediately danger to you two? do you need me to bring anything, i'm gonna need more information here zo

Ashton: i'm on my way soon, christ this app is huge on size

Zoe: I'm not a mom mom!! Cat mom! His name is pablo

Zoe: he's def taking it better than me. I mean we arent hurt hurt.... it's a lot. Idk. I thought maybe youd be better at this than anyone else

Ashton: uh. sorry, who is this?

Ashton: oh. Zoe, yeah, of course, hey there. didn't think you'd save the number.

Ashton: okay, but I do need some information to prepare assistance for you, tell me what you can. are you alone, or in danger by your find

Ashton: and coordinates. I'll need those.

Zoe: uhhhhhh coordinates?

Zoe: OH add me on snapchat!

Zoe: don't laugh 😔 I'm pablopicatsosmom

Zoe: I need you

Zoe: for reasons! Not what you think! We found something

Zoe: Can't say over text but,,,,, rlly need you

Something about the way she looked at him told Tammy few people had paid Zoe that kind of attention, or even done her the courtesy of noticing when she needed comfort. It stirred something fiercely protective in his chest, hand lingering on her arm for a little longer than necessary, a wordless confirmation that he saw her, and he was there if she needed him.

The scene in the alleyway had an almost magnetic pull, drawing them both closer; Tammy was numb to it, still believing somewhere in his mind it was just a set, just something someone had created to elicit a reaction, like what he did on camera. Even seeing the ouroboros, the blood, the dead man’s face twisted in a mask of terror – it was only when he felt Zoe clutch his arm that he realised what he should be feeling. Shock, disgust, something more than dull curiosity. He guided her away from the body almost on autopilot, remembering as an afterthought that this wasn’t the type of thing most people could stomach.

Her words made him glance back, a simple nod to confirm them. “Shit. We should – um, I guess we should do something?” 

She remembered seeing a dead person once. It was her grandfather at his wake, dying from natural causes, laid out in a beautiful casket with flowers surrounding him, makeup done to seem approachable as if he was only sleeping. This was nothing like that. What she associated death to be was a romanticized version of it, not this barbaric twist, raw and unbridled in how the life was ripped from the corpse. Poldark was a shell on display, posed in a way that Zoe's brain could not distinguish immediately, too wrapped up in the blood. If she hadn't been holding onto Tammy's arm, her knees would have surely buckled.

Her lips parted, wanting to verbally agree. She could only breathe out before nodding her head. The motion was enough to shake the rest of her into enough action to pull apart her purse to find her phone. "Uhm..." Who to call? 9-1-1? Zoe stared blankly at her phone and then the marks of a pen she had tried to wash off from nights previously still clinging to her skin. No. She couldn't call the police, not immediately. They would never give her answers. The story would be lost. What would Ampersand say? What would she say to herself looking back on this? She just needed to pull it together.

“i give it a 6/10, as far as puns go.” she laughed. it would fit though, walking around her studio with pablo picasso. why not! if zoe was actually serious, which it seemed she was, then who was she to stop the train of fate. there was no reason to stare it down and see if it would hit her. roommates. she’d never lived with anyone but her siblings. “i like pablo though, makes him sound very hip.” and with that there was a mother, and a name of a company, and plenty of little details filtering in without even having to be provoked. “i’ll send you some places. i guess i was getting tired of my place, so why not.” splitting the rent was not her first priority, but she wasn’t against it either. zoe could always pick up a water bill or something that she’d otherwise let fall through the cracks. “i’m thinking like, three rooms and rooftop access. do you have any requests?”

Tammy kept hurrying along, anxious not to stop for too long in the dark backstreets, despite the protests of his feet from wearing heels all night. He kept glancing behind to make sure Zoe was alright, noticing the effect his question had on her. Sister – he nodded gently, wondering why she was so reluctant to say that. Perhaps just admitting that someone you loved so much had ended up like that was too hard to even say. The closest person he had to a sibling was Elliot, and just thinking of losing him, seeing him in an alley like he’d seen that girl, made his stomach twist with dull worry. “Hey –” Comforting people genuinely was hardly Tammy’s strong suit, but he put a hand on her arm, trying to to calm her from the nervous little spiral she’d worked herself into. He wished he had some promise of closure, of finding her, but he knew all they were probably going to see was an empty alleyway, possibly populated by some addicts.

“What’s not –” Tammy glanced to where Zoe was pointing. His stomach should’ve dropped at the sight, floodlights streaming down on a stretched-out body, but all he felt was a numb, sickened fascination. “Mother of fuck – look at this –”

The hand on her arm brought her eyes back to Tammy, glistening more than a moment before. It was too easy to cry, nervous energy bringing it out of her, bubbling just beneath that attention starved skin. She sucked in a breath, pushed it aside, offering a thankful smile for even the small gesture of noticing. It would be nothing in comparison to what was awaiting them, anyways.

Her own hand still stayed on his elbow, stepping closer to the scene until it was able to come into view, enough for the brain to finally register that this was not a new display of modern art for the streets. It was a statement. One in dripping blood from the neck, wrists, ankles, dangling against a wall and sprawled out for the world to view. Her shriek was stifled in her chest, eyes wide, hand clutching to her new friend. A prickling feeling ravaged her skin, cementing her in fright before weakened with illness. Eyes had to look away, at least for a moment as she took a shaky breath.

“Oh, I’ll live. Beats getting hit in the head with cannonball shrapnel, I can tell you that.” Laurie shook his head as if that would be enough to shake the headache away, and not just make it worse. “Thanks, though.” If there was one thing he wasn’t used to, it was any level of concern, people looking out for him always made him vaguely uncomfortable. The thanks was slightly awkward, but genuine at least.

“Mmm, a bit like that –” Laurie kept walking, brushing off the dizziness that told him the headache was definitely trying to turn into a migraine. As much as Zoe’s incessant chatter only aggravated it, he couldn’t find it in him to be truly annoyed; her exuberance reminded him of the young soldiers he’d led, full of bright ideas, convinced they could change the world, or at least that they had the power to. “Well, we can reasonably assume they’re involved with – bloody hell –” He flicked on the light to his office, wincing as the sudden brightness sent a stabbing pain behind his eye. “With muses. I think it’s in here –” Ransacking the pile of reference books on his desk, Laurie eventually pulled one out, flicking through it before showing Zoe the page. “The ouroboros, and the Sacra Moons cult. I’m pretty sure there’s more symbolism in that painting, but it’s a start.”

"Oh...?" The word seemed to stretch on, tone fluctuating from one end of the spectrum to the other, encompassing immediate agreement before landing on utter confusion as to what he meant. Strange thing to say, but she couldn't deny it! Must have been his weird sense of humor. Least she could do is play along with it. "Heh. Yeah, I guess that's true! Big history buff, huh?" Shot in the dark, but in this line of work, it was part of the job. A museum full of pieces spanning hundreds--no thousands--of years, you had to have a certain type of passion for it. It usually wasn't for the pay. She knew that.

Tammy didn’t know what had gotten into him, taking a stranger on a trip through the back alleys of New York – not somewhere a girl like Zoe should be, even with him to look after her. But – she’d lost someone important to her, that much was obvious. She’d lost her, but there was a chance of getting her back, so at least for the sake of the part of him that wished he could patch things over with his parents, he knew he had to help. “No, don’t worry, you’re not bothering me.” He set Joan down on the pavement, looping her leash around his wrist. “My plans after this were to binge-watch Call the Midwife til I couldn’t keep my eyes open, so this is an improvement, I guess.” Even if it meant walking through the city in stilettos, for a wander down an unpleasant section of memory lane. “If you don’t mind me asking, who is she to you?”

“No, no, I’m not married. Never have been.” Never had the time, and besides, it had been illegal until a few years ago. “I don’t see the fucking point, to be honest. Other than the tax breaks.” Laurie grinned wryly, his attempt at a joke to lighten up the atmosphere. As if they weren’t standing in a dimly-lit exhibition at 12:30 in the morning, the dull pounding behind his eyes settling in for the foreseeable future. Zoe’s assessment of him was cuttingly accurate; he wasn’t sure whether it was a veiled criticism or a simple observation. Either way, he’d take running the risk of being drugged over the risk of a migraine, taking the pill and dry-swallowing it with only the barest wince, and a muttered thank you.

“It’s just a theory, but – I did a study on this, symbols used in art that’ve been co-opted by larger movements –” if it was a cult, then that rewrote the battlefield, gave Laurie a whole new angle of exploration. “Hang on, I think I have a book on that in my office –” He began to walk, glancing behind to make sure Zoe was still following him. At least it gave him the opportunity to put a reasonable amount of distance between them, the steady baseline of apprehension finally fading to nothing but his usual background hypervigilance. It wasn’t even that he had anything to fear, from her or from most other people; it was centuries of training, hammered in so deep they had become part of his soul: watch out, stay alert, trust no-one. “Hmm, theoretically. But he also might’ve been killed, for ritual purposes or just for not being what they wanted.”

"Gotcha," she began to nod, showing a support to the choice. Was it a choice? She looked over his face for a moment. It wasn't from a lack of looks, but his level of intimidation was striking. "So, never tempted, huh? That's cool. It's def not for everyone! Like my... Eh, nevermind." She thought the better of it, stopping herself from going on as she finally realized he was trying to joke, smile thrown at her. She guessed it might be rare, better not jinx it while she was ahead, even as she stared at him for dryly taking the pill. "That... must be some headache," she went on, a small attempt at a joke right back while her mind thought of the possibility that it simply came from experience.

“we were a dog family.” she thought for a moment, the question pointed towards some serious consideration of the joking offer. it could be fun. she did get lonely sometimes in her little apartment, but she did always think that was in spite of her work not because of it. a live in companion would solve most of those problems. “but they’re low maintenance! could be fun.” besides, she was always going to have a room to herself. she’d need a studio, for her studying. that was a great word for it, one she might even fine herself using. “as long as the name is cute.”

“It’ll never end if we keep that up,” Ashton let out a light chuckle at her push back on the awkward moment. But he paused at her next question, not really knowing if they would cross paths again, “maybe.” Maybe if she covered more within the art scene, if she knew more about muses, maybe we would cross paths again, though Ashton just wasn’t sure If it was even safe for her if they did. “Okay, just be careful on your way home here– could I?” he took the pen and wrote down his public number lightly on her hand beside her notes noting his name, even if she doesn’t remember him, “just in case you get in trouble tonight.” He didn’t want to have left her into her own danger. “No it’s okay, I still have work to do, get home safe Zoe.”

"Yeah, I guess so," she laughed, snorting again by the end before the back of her hand could brush at her nose to try to hide it. Her written over hand stayed by her side, the same one that Ash shortly took to write more so on, leaving her looking at the action with mesmerized eyes. "Uh, I mean, I have a phone... we could just... type that in..." she muttered quietly, cheeks flushing before drawing up to see his face. Even when he was done, her hand stayed up, just in case he was going to need it again. "Okie, I'll find some trouble, I guess," she spoke with a numb nod, skewing his words around before their true meaning dawned on her. "Heh! Kidding. Kidding.--See you around, agent Ash!"