It's been a whole year since his last stop in New Orleans. Grey looks like a man whose had more than a few days off the beaten path, his beard uneven, dirt under his fingernails and his clothes definitely having been washed in the stream outside rather than with detergent and chlorine. His jeans are threadbare, hanging low on his hips, the t-shirt stretched over his chest used to have colour but now it's greyish red with stretched collar. His hair is up on a messy bun at the back of his head and the pair of badly scratched aviators on his nose a bit crooked.
He arrived by foot, took a few busses along the way, and it took long enough to get to the French quarter that he had time to feel exactly why he had been called back home this time. It's right there, patterned to the asphalt, slithering like tar over the usually excited atmosphere of the city - evil, something old and tainted. Grey can't quite put his finger on a name or face but oh, he feels it, he feels it in his bones, in his flesh.
He takes the French quarter by foot, getting familiar with the cobblestone streets and familiar scents. When he finally slips into the courtyard that leads to the building he has a room rented in, his brows are furrowed darkly and his shoulders squared up. He slips up to his door without saying hello to anyone, dropping away his backpack before heading down to the Lodge for a drink.
"Hit me with two fingers," he says to the bartender who knows him by name and reputation and while he waits for her to fill his glass with bourbon, he asks: "Is Midnight here tonight?"
"A bit early to call on frè minui, don't you think?" comes a teasing voice as Midnight seemingly appears out of nowhere next to Grey, tinted glasses perched low on his nose as he gives the big man a quick once-over.
Midnight had come to the bar earlier than usual, the whispers of spirits having grown louder on Grey's approach to the city, and he'd expected this would be the first stop for the recluse man.
"No," Grey replies before downing his poison. It never is a nice trip where he goes. He knows this is a self-fulfilling prophecy given that he is the driving force putting him in the path of demons, but the fact still remains - these aren't nice trips.
"I see what you mean," he says after the glass is on the bar again, grey eyes meeting Midnight's with a steady gaze. "Shit is coming." Get your women and children and run.
Except it's a very big city with a lot of innocent people.
The doc had headed out of town with the wild man who came back a few nights ago. Marco saw them leaving the Lodge and didn't think much about it. Not before the next morning when someone came to ask about Midnight. He hadn't come home apparently.
Marco had brushed it aside. Midnight was a voodoo priest. He could handle himself no problem.
Except the next day came and went, and the day after that as well.
Finally he had to admit being a little worried. Packing up a few things to go, he closed the shop an hour early and headed to Midnight's house, planning to draw a summoning circle on the man's porch if need be. You didn't just leave town with a wild man and end up in some desolate place with no reception and think your friends wouldn't worry.
No, mon chou, you would at least have to leave a note saying you're out banging with this tall and handsome rather than just leave like that.
But instead of drawing sigils right on Midnight's doorstep, Marco sits down and pulls out a cigarette, sprawling on the steps while he thinks about it. He might have a bottle of wine out after half an hour and another cigarette, but he hasn't moved an inch. Eventually something will come along...
Midnight does eventually return - at midnight, hilariously, looking tired and a bit grimey, but otherwise fine. He pauses on seeing the figure that's taken possession of his porch though and drawls, "Cher, please don't tell me you done lost your keys again and been locked out of your own place?"
You know you've been out a little too long when it's starting to flirt four AM and you've lost both of your shoes and your jacket somewhere along the way. Marco is not worried at all that he isn't going to find his belongings, magic takes care of him in ways that no family ever has.
But he's a little drunk right now - or to be fair, he's more than a little drunk - and maybe a little lost. This wouldn't normally happen to him at all because he knows New Orleans like the back of his hand. But he's no longer in the French quarter and he can't remember where the party was that he left a while ago.
They had been planning to go out and find more drinks. Something like that.
Except now he's alone and all the streets look very much like each other.
He's a jovial drunk, though, and not about to panic. He laughs instead as he leans against the building side and looks down at his bare toes. Wow, c'est la vie and all that.
He's dressed in a loose shirt that's nothing but strings at the back and keeps slipping off of his shoulder, his jeans look like they might have been painted on him and that is most definitely something sparkly on the rises of his cheekbones and shoulders, a little bit of the same glitter catching the gloomy light of the streetlamps in that curly hair that's been half pulled back to an artistic braid creation, half of it still spilling free to his nape. He looks like an expensive hooker. That's how he named this look earlier to Midnight right before kissing the man with a mouth as berry red as if it had been painted.
So, he's lost, looking like a hooker and he has no shoes.
Al's passed through New Orleans a couple of times over the years, but it's been a while since he last stopped over. Which also means the friends he'd stayed with last time are no longer in town and he's cruising by in his truck to look for a motel to bunk for the night when he catches sight of the laughing half-dressed man.
"Hey buddy, you all right?" he calls, leaning out the window... and then pausing as he realises who it is. "Shit, Marco? That you?"
Midnight's cousin had taken them in generously. Kai had packed up a go-back for both of them and they had moved out of city for a while. He wasn't quite sure what was going on but he had taken the hint when the priest had told him to get his kid and go.
It had helped that he was writing a story about a fraud scandal that had been shaking the local whole food factory. He had been meaning to travel for a while and now he had a good reason to do so.
He had been in town for a couple of days, they had settled and found places for their things. Tonight Midnight's cousin wanted to introduce him to the locals and he and his wife let their hair down and the sitter came to watch all of the sleeping kids while the adults went out to play.
The bar the locals gather in isn't much different from the Lodge, except there is no New Orleans swank plastered all over it. It's old with creaky wooden floors and massive bar counters.
They make their way through the bar, drinks and introductions, lots of laughing and good time. Kai, like usual, is dressed to kill, in a pair of black jeans that look really nice on him and a swanky t-shirt and leather jacket combo that never fails to look good and also careless as if he hadn't spend hours perfecting this look. He's a little tipsy when a long haired, freckly faced, frankly gorgeous man joins their little party next to the bar and before any introductions are made, Kai smiles to him warmly, skin crinkling around his eyes.
"Well, aren't you a pretty one," he says as a hello.
For all Aidan might come across as intimidating to students of the coven, he does (literally) let down his hair and join the adults at the bar. He even has friends, believe it or not. Ones who know well not to touch the man when he shows up, just greeting him with raised glasses and ordering him a beer to start.
What Aidian's not used to is one of the party members approaching him quite so... boldly.
So his brows shoot up and he stares back at Kai somewhat warily, keeping a gloved hand to the bar instead of backing up.
For now.
"You must be new," comes the response at last, dry and just a bit clipped.
She's a curious girl, curious and just as impatient as her father. She plays outside a lot and has been told not to wander out of sight. But of course she does, because there's always something a little more interesting that way.
This time she has wandered quite far. Mostly because she was following a floating light and a sense of laughter. They were playing, hide and seek, tag, everything else as well.
And before she noticed, she was somewhere completely elsewhere. There was a tree that seemed to have something to say. Aarni always said that trees had their own elves and if you listened hard enough, you could hear them speak. This one seemed eager to chat.
She found herself hugging the tree first, then curling up at the roots of it and finally she climbed until she found a branch that was comfortable and settled on it to sing a little song, or maybe two, or three...
Aidan's used to hearing voices in the woods, thanks to the fae folk that have congregated with his family's preservation of the old ways... but he also knows the difference between them and humans.
That singing is definitely human.
Taking his foot off the wheel, he stands and absently dunks his clay-coated hands in the nearby pot of water to clean them quickly off, frowning as he pulls on his gloves and makes his way over to the singing.
There's a quiet thrum of voices, delighted by the girl's presence, and he can hear the leaf-rustle whisper of the cherry bird and the branch-creak murmurs of the ash as they speak to the singer.
"Who's there?" Aidan calls, approaching the ash circle, immediately focusing on the cherry bird at the center, its branches still bare from winter though the leaf buds are dotting it all over now. Spotting the girl, he pauses, looking up at her with clear confusion.
Grey has been staying in Kai's house for a couple of days now, ever since they came back from the Bayou. He's been putting together protections for his brother's house and his things, collecting the ones that he thinks they can't survive without and leaving the rest untouched. There are Tilhi's vaccination records, her magic box, Kai's wedding rings, things that Grey knows he keeps very close to his heart. His mother's golden hairpin, a hawk's feather from when they were kids, things like that. They all fit into a single box and the rest is left behind without a second's remorse.
The house is dark and locked to the gills when he's ready with it. It's not going to open to anyone except those with the right kind of blood. Actual blood and Grey knows for certain that there aren't anyone else alive who could spill this blood than Kai, his brother and his daughter.
When he's ready, he pours the content of the box into a bag and hangs it onto the motorcycle, which he takes down the road to Midnight's place.
It's late and tomorrow a whole week comes to full since their little trip to Bayou. They're out of time. Grey has seen the priest a few times during the week, but never alone, there's always been someone else hanging around.
Now, however, he's cashing in that promise he made for himself. To make sure that the priest is going to leave before tomorrow morning.
He parks the bike on the front yard and walks up the steps heavily. He knocks on the door and settles to wait.
Midnight's not in, though. He's been walking around and through town all evening, accompanied with a pair of men with drums, helping him as he goes through the necessary steps to exorcise all the spirits out of New Orleans. It's a long and exhausting process, and many of the spirits despair at being made to move on. Some at least were understanding, and expressed quiet sadness before allowing themselves to be guided past this world. Some outright refused to leave, and those Midnight has to allow to do as they please with a heavy heart, knowing they're not going to survive when the demons hit.
After all that, his feet are cut up and burning from the many hours he's been shuffling and dancing, his throat feels raw, and there's a ringing silence in his ears as he makes his way home. As luck would have it, he arrives only a few minutes after Grey first knocks at his door, and pauses at his front gate, staring up at the tall man.
"Hey," he greets, voice rough. Then he sees how Grey's dressed, ready to take the bike and go, and his face falls a bit, tired and accepting. "Ready to go, huh?"
The mayhem starts in the middle of the night. They get a few hours of sleep before the first signs wake up both of them. They get a few hours of relative peace while nothing particularly sinister is going on, then all hell breaks loose. Parts of the French quarter is burning. Church bells somewhere boom while people are dashing out to the streets, some possessed, some chased by those possessed.
Grey tries to keep up with Midnight, but there's just too much to do, too much to hold together as it's coming apart at the seams. At some point he loses the sight of the priest.
But that's alright. He had already figured that it would happen eventually and he has a few strands of the priest's curly hair wrapped around a wooden charm that hangs around his neck. Finding time to cast a locator spell is what tries to stump him at the end.
The streets are full of smoke and screaming, a sense of pure evilsettling in while the swarm sweeps in. It's starting to be the last possible moment to leave before everything breaks apart. Grey doesn't need a premonition to know that if they stick around any longer, they're going to be executed on the street when the brothers and sisters of that succubus find them. Or any of the other demons that he's put away in the past.
A part of him wants to stay and fight these assholes. A part of him is livid even with the idea of leaving now. But a bigger part of him knows that this is the only way they will survive. And so he casts his spell and rushes through the smoke covered French quarter in search of Midnight, letting the spell tug him towards the right direction.
It's at the Lodge where he feels the nudging guide him inside and he drives the bike straight through the gates, leaving it to the side as he dashes up the stone steps leading inside. He's covered in soot and dust, his coat sleeve torn all the way up to his shoulder and blood caked on his hairline, running down the length of his face and neck. There's been some battles that he's seen along the way.
He finds Midnight arguing with someone who looks faintly familiar. He might have seen this person before. He doesn't care, he grabs the priest by the elbow to jerk him around.
Midnight had quashed down any fear that threatened to rise on being separated from Grey. After all, the shaman is more than capable of taking care of himself, and Midnight just knows the big man will come find him, somehow.
Instead, he focused on the people trying to escape. Grabbing some to hide with him and covering their mouths, quickly looping a gris-gris bag around their necks and quietly explaining that as long as they stay silent, the spirits and demons won't be able to see them, giving them some chance to escape. But there's only so many of the little bags he's got, and most people are more intent on fleeing than letting themselves be dragged to temporary safety by the priest.
Midnight himself doesn't escape unscathed.
The allies and siblings of the succubus Grey had captured know his scent and target the priest, turning their host's nails to sharp claws, grabbed at Midnight's exposed arms, tearing through his thin shirt trying to get a grip on him. But he's got his pouch of brick dust, blowing it in his assailants faces, banishing and blinding them for long enough that he can give them the slip.
When he reaches the Lodge, other priests have already formed a perimeter with the dust to make a temporary refuge against the chaos, other magic users present and trying to gather themselves. The problem, though, is that plenty of them are furious and hotheaded enough to believe they should go out en masse to fight back the demons.
That's when he's grabbed and turned, relief flooding through him as he sees it's Grey (battered up as he is as well).
"Oh, thank fuck," he breathes, briefly grabbing the big man in a tight hug. Then he's right back to arguing with the others.
"Look! He's got more experience than all of us with this shit, and even he is saying it's time to go. We need to leave while we still can!"
The community has come together to protect their dead. The ones that heeded Midnight's warnings, that is. Marco had to talk fast and loose to get his father, his brothers, his cousins and his uncles to join the process. His mother lives in France and he's quite glad she's protected at least. his family has centuries upon centuries of history in New Orleans and when his father realised that the threat was real, he did call upon the whole family to help with sealing off the cemetery from the upcoming invasion. The asshole of course had to have his own plan for the rest of it, far be it from him to actually fall in line and help. There had been arguments and demands and all the antics that had made Marco leave his home in the first place and move into the French quarter with the rest of the magical community.
But at least they had come to help with the spell casting at the cemetery, knowing that protecting their ancestors would be a crucial part of keeping their magic alive.
The cemetery is lit hundreds of candles and there are several people covering the ground around it with a circle of salt. Marco pushes his way through the crowd to Midnight. He's followed by a cousin in a leather jacket, sunglasses perched in his hair. This is Despil, someone who also lives in the French quarter, whenever he bothers to be around at all. The rest of the Sawall family has found their own place near their tombs.
"Hi," Marco greets his friend and then leans in to hug him even if that's not really necessary at all. But listen, he's a little bit in need of physical affection because this whole thing is giving him the creeps. "I guess this is really real."
Midnight's own smile is wan even if he returns Marco's hug and gives Despil's hand a warm clasp and squeeze in greeting.
"It's really real," he repeats with a little nod, looking out over the others at the tombs. Exhausted still from making his own circuit of the entire city, gathering up the dead to move on to the next world or to at least push them back to their graves so the cemeteries might be sealed off.
"... Not everyone would move from their haunts," he admits with a quiet, sad sigh. "But I tried to get as many of them to move on or get back to the cemeteries as I could."
Marco honestly doesn't know what he's supposed to be packing up. He's standing in his flat and staring at his stuff, trying to figure out what to take and what to leave. The problem is that he doesn't even have a car and he has a lot of stuff that he would not like to lose.
His flat is small but that's also why he lives absolutely everything in it. The paintings he's done, his paints and brushes, his potions ingredients, his elaborate and open wardrobe that is a piece of art itself.
He has a bag open on his bed, a simple shoulder bag and he has managed to stuff in the necessities, hygiene products, some potions, a travel kit for artsy stuff. And now he's lost.
"How the hell are you supposed to pack up your life?" he asks from Al, who is sitting on his bed, supposedly helping Marco pack. But he hasn't been packing for the past hour at least. He's just been wandering around and looking at things he loves in his home.
"You don't, unless you've got a trailer," Al answers with some amusement as he lounges back. "Or a storage unit, which I'm guessin' you don't have enough time to get, right?"
He's not entirely sure what's going on. He's heard in the past of demons attacking cities, particularly those heavy with magic - either to drain the power for themselves, or in a strategic maneuver to stamp out any chance of resistance - but it's not as if the shifter community dabbles in it. They've got problems enough of their own, and demons generally don't come knocking at them much - too much animal and not quite enough magic to be of use. He's pretty sure some witch tried to explain it to him once, how a shifter's physiology and dual-nature made it more difficult for them to get possessed, but he'd been more focused on making sure she wasn't about to cast any spell to care.
"I ran away with just the clothes on my back and $50 in my pocket, at the start of it," he adds with a small, nonchalant shrug.
It's been a couple of days. Tilhi has begged to go see the fairies every day but Kai has not given in before the third day when she asks very nicely and Kai thinks he should probably try to get over his own embarrassment as well.
They start by baking. Something for Aidan as a thank you for the last time. It's a nice cheese cake with vanilla and butterscotch filling and orange peels and glaze on top. They leave it to the house. Kai pushes it inside from an open window and leaves a note on top that says they're sorry and thank you for everything.
Then he takes the girl to the tree and leaves her playing while he makes a camp for himself at the outskirts of the clearing, sitting on the ground while he stares at the tree, trying to figure out why it still sings to him, why it still talks to him like it does. He brought a notebook and a pen, and he's trying to write out whatever the tree is saying to make sense to it.
But he doesn't dare to get close to it anymore, even if it urges him to do so constantly.
The tree is patient, but also very persistent for it. Constantly speaking to Aidan, it tries to get him to come closer, wanting to speak to the stranger and his strange ability. The fairies, meanwhile, dance with Tilhi all around the clearing, inviting her to hide & seek, teaching her the names of the trees if she wants to learn them.
Aidan is aware of the visitors, the trees speaking loud enough to catch his attention from behind the cottage where he's got the oven and kiln (and then he comes across the cheesecake which is more of a surprise). While he's tempted to go check on them immediately, he holds back, feeling more than a bit awkward to face Kai after the rather sour way things had ended the last time.
But then one hour turns to two, and he's got some sweet rolls fresh out of the oven. So after a moment of waffling, he takes a bottle of the apple cider, a couple of mugs and a covered plate of buns, idly letting the cider warm in his hand with a little magical help as he walks over to the circle.
The bird cherry is quite noisy in its attempts to get Kai to come closer, enough so that Aidan rolls his eyes as he stops by the man, setting down the food and drink next to him.
"You can touch it," he says to Kai, straightening up after he's set down everything. "I think it's gotten the message not to get too excited after the last time."
Sometimes having the visitations is like pinpricks to your nerves. Kai woke up in the bedroom he shares with Tilhi to something he could swear were screams and smoke. When he rolled out of bed with sheen of sweat already pearling up on his skin, he heard a creaking of the door downstairs and heavy steps on the floor boards. He stood at the doorway, waiting for the steps to trace their path, drawing in a sharp breath when they went outside and seemed to disappear on the porch.
The hands of his watch paused to four AM but when he fished out his phone, he found out that it was just two in the morning. Getting out in his pyjama bottoms and cardigan, he decided to take a quick walk to get the rapid beating of his heart under control. Calling his brother or Grey at this hour was out of the question, but he did send both of them a text to check in with him the following morning.
Midnight's cousin lives by a small park, the trees whispered to him soothingly so he decided to take a quick walk in the park. He must have taken a few more turns though, because after just walking five minutes he couldn't see the house anymore, or any of the familiar landmarks.
Incredible. Only him could get lost in a fucking city park in the middle of the night.
So, he drew in a breath to calm himself and tried to trace his steps back. And again when it didn't work.
Eventually he was about to turn on his phone when he saw something familiar ahead. But it shouldn't have been possible. The bird cherry tree was a dark shade against the night sky, a few lazy wisps floating around it.
Kai walks to the tree and lays a hand on its trunk. "You're not supposed to do that, my friend."
The tree is completely without remorse, just warmly welcoming Kai to its little circle. Even if it promised Aidan not to overdo it with the newcomer's strange amplifying abilities, it can't seem to resist growing a little twig by Kai's face, a couple of perfect, pale blossoms blooming and releasing its perfume over him again. Almost like it's intent on scent-marking Kai, but not quite.
Back at his cottage, Aidan rouses from his sleep, feeling strangely restless and scenting bird cherry in his room. He doesn't bother with a coat, just tugging on a shirt and his gloves before heading to the circle, the moon plenty bright enough to guide him.
It hasn't been quite a full day's ride from the motel to the small town where the rest of the people are slowly gathering in. The news about New Orleans have travelled like wild fire ahead of them and Grey already knows that when they roll down the street that leads to the house Midnight's cousin lives in they're going to be meeting Kai on the porch, because that's what the idiot does, worries his fancy jeans off.
Neither of them looks quite as ragged as they did when they left Nola, but not quite as shiny as new either. There are bandages and bruises forming. When they come to a halt in the driveway of the picturesque home, he pushes the stand down and pats Midnight's thigh to let him know that he can get off first.
Kai pushes himself up from the swing and practically dashes to them, first he yanks Midnight to a tight hug and then smacks Grey on the shoulder.
"Jackass," he says to him and then turns to Midnight while Grey is rolling his eyes.
"Are you both okay?" he asks the priest instead. "I got your message, but not a word from that asshole." He looks pointedly at Grey who shrugs. "I did text you."
"Yeah, it said 'on the road'." Kai quirks his brows at Midnight.
Midnight smiles innocently, arm still casually looped around Kai's waist.
"We were on the road...?" he comments mildly, flashing a little wink Grey's way. "Your bike might need a good cleaning, by the way. There was a bit of mud."
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He arrived by foot, took a few busses along the way, and it took long enough to get to the French quarter that he had time to feel exactly why he had been called back home this time. It's right there, patterned to the asphalt, slithering like tar over the usually excited atmosphere of the city - evil, something old and tainted. Grey can't quite put his finger on a name or face but oh, he feels it, he feels it in his bones, in his flesh.
He takes the French quarter by foot, getting familiar with the cobblestone streets and familiar scents. When he finally slips into the courtyard that leads to the building he has a room rented in, his brows are furrowed darkly and his shoulders squared up. He slips up to his door without saying hello to anyone, dropping away his backpack before heading down to the Lodge for a drink.
"Hit me with two fingers," he says to the bartender who knows him by name and reputation and while he waits for her to fill his glass with bourbon, he asks: "Is Midnight here tonight?"
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Midnight had come to the bar earlier than usual, the whispers of spirits having grown louder on Grey's approach to the city, and he'd expected this would be the first stop for the recluse man.
"Had a nice trip?"
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"I see what you mean," he says after the glass is on the bar again, grey eyes meeting Midnight's with a steady gaze. "Shit is coming." Get your women and children and run.
Except it's a very big city with a lot of innocent people.
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Marco had brushed it aside. Midnight was a voodoo priest. He could handle himself no problem.
Except the next day came and went, and the day after that as well.
Finally he had to admit being a little worried. Packing up a few things to go, he closed the shop an hour early and headed to Midnight's house, planning to draw a summoning circle on the man's porch if need be. You didn't just leave town with a wild man and end up in some desolate place with no reception and think your friends wouldn't worry.
No, mon chou, you would at least have to leave a note saying you're out banging with this tall and handsome rather than just leave like that.
But instead of drawing sigils right on Midnight's doorstep, Marco sits down and pulls out a cigarette, sprawling on the steps while he thinks about it. He might have a bottle of wine out after half an hour and another cigarette, but he hasn't moved an inch. Eventually something will come along...
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But he's a little drunk right now - or to be fair, he's more than a little drunk - and maybe a little lost. This wouldn't normally happen to him at all because he knows New Orleans like the back of his hand. But he's no longer in the French quarter and he can't remember where the party was that he left a while ago.
They had been planning to go out and find more drinks. Something like that.
Except now he's alone and all the streets look very much like each other.
He's a jovial drunk, though, and not about to panic. He laughs instead as he leans against the building side and looks down at his bare toes. Wow, c'est la vie and all that.
He's dressed in a loose shirt that's nothing but strings at the back and keeps slipping off of his shoulder, his jeans look like they might have been painted on him and that is most definitely something sparkly on the rises of his cheekbones and shoulders, a little bit of the same glitter catching the gloomy light of the streetlamps in that curly hair that's been half pulled back to an artistic braid creation, half of it still spilling free to his nape. He looks like an expensive hooker. That's how he named this look earlier to Midnight right before kissing the man with a mouth as berry red as if it had been painted.
So, he's lost, looking like a hooker and he has no shoes.
Enough of reason to laugh, right? Seems logical.
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"Hey buddy, you all right?" he calls, leaning out the window... and then pausing as he realises who it is. "Shit, Marco? That you?"
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say hello
It had helped that he was writing a story about a fraud scandal that had been shaking the local whole food factory. He had been meaning to travel for a while and now he had a good reason to do so.
He had been in town for a couple of days, they had settled and found places for their things. Tonight Midnight's cousin wanted to introduce him to the locals and he and his wife let their hair down and the sitter came to watch all of the sleeping kids while the adults went out to play.
The bar the locals gather in isn't much different from the Lodge, except there is no New Orleans swank plastered all over it. It's old with creaky wooden floors and massive bar counters.
They make their way through the bar, drinks and introductions, lots of laughing and good time. Kai, like usual, is dressed to kill, in a pair of black jeans that look really nice on him and a swanky t-shirt and leather jacket combo that never fails to look good and also careless as if he hadn't spend hours perfecting this look. He's a little tipsy when a long haired, freckly faced, frankly gorgeous man joins their little party next to the bar and before any introductions are made, Kai smiles to him warmly, skin crinkling around his eyes.
"Well, aren't you a pretty one," he says as a hello.
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What Aidian's not used to is one of the party members approaching him quite so... boldly.
So his brows shoot up and he stares back at Kai somewhat warily, keeping a gloved hand to the bar instead of backing up.
For now.
"You must be new," comes the response at last, dry and just a bit clipped.
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She's a curious girl, curious and just as impatient as her father. She plays outside a lot and has been told not to wander out of sight. But of course she does, because there's always something a little more interesting that way.
This time she has wandered quite far. Mostly because she was following a floating light and a sense of laughter. They were playing, hide and seek, tag, everything else as well.
And before she noticed, she was somewhere completely elsewhere. There was a tree that seemed to have something to say. Aarni always said that trees had their own elves and if you listened hard enough, you could hear them speak. This one seemed eager to chat.
She found herself hugging the tree first, then curling up at the roots of it and finally she climbed until she found a branch that was comfortable and settled on it to sing a little song, or maybe two, or three...
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That singing is definitely human.
Taking his foot off the wheel, he stands and absently dunks his clay-coated hands in the nearby pot of water to clean them quickly off, frowning as he pulls on his gloves and makes his way over to the singing.
There's a quiet thrum of voices, delighted by the girl's presence, and he can hear the leaf-rustle whisper of the cherry bird and the branch-creak murmurs of the ash as they speak to the singer.
"Who's there?" Aidan calls, approaching the ash circle, immediately focusing on the cherry bird at the center, its branches still bare from winter though the leaf buds are dotting it all over now. Spotting the girl, he pauses, looking up at her with clear confusion.
"Where did you come from?"
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The house is dark and locked to the gills when he's ready with it. It's not going to open to anyone except those with the right kind of blood. Actual blood and Grey knows for certain that there aren't anyone else alive who could spill this blood than Kai, his brother and his daughter.
When he's ready, he pours the content of the box into a bag and hangs it onto the motorcycle, which he takes down the road to Midnight's place.
It's late and tomorrow a whole week comes to full since their little trip to Bayou. They're out of time. Grey has seen the priest a few times during the week, but never alone, there's always been someone else hanging around.
Now, however, he's cashing in that promise he made for himself. To make sure that the priest is going to leave before tomorrow morning.
He parks the bike on the front yard and walks up the steps heavily. He knocks on the door and settles to wait.
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After all that, his feet are cut up and burning from the many hours he's been shuffling and dancing, his throat feels raw, and there's a ringing silence in his ears as he makes his way home. As luck would have it, he arrives only a few minutes after Grey first knocks at his door, and pauses at his front gate, staring up at the tall man.
"Hey," he greets, voice rough. Then he sees how Grey's dressed, ready to take the bike and go, and his face falls a bit, tired and accepting. "Ready to go, huh?"
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Grey tries to keep up with Midnight, but there's just too much to do, too much to hold together as it's coming apart at the seams. At some point he loses the sight of the priest.
But that's alright. He had already figured that it would happen eventually and he has a few strands of the priest's curly hair wrapped around a wooden charm that hangs around his neck. Finding time to cast a locator spell is what tries to stump him at the end.
The streets are full of smoke and screaming, a sense of pure evilsettling in while the swarm sweeps in. It's starting to be the last possible moment to leave before everything breaks apart. Grey doesn't need a premonition to know that if they stick around any longer, they're going to be executed on the street when the brothers and sisters of that succubus find them. Or any of the other demons that he's put away in the past.
A part of him wants to stay and fight these assholes. A part of him is livid even with the idea of leaving now. But a bigger part of him knows that this is the only way they will survive. And so he casts his spell and rushes through the smoke covered French quarter in search of Midnight, letting the spell tug him towards the right direction.
It's at the Lodge where he feels the nudging guide him inside and he drives the bike straight through the gates, leaving it to the side as he dashes up the stone steps leading inside. He's covered in soot and dust, his coat sleeve torn all the way up to his shoulder and blood caked on his hairline, running down the length of his face and neck. There's been some battles that he's seen along the way.
He finds Midnight arguing with someone who looks faintly familiar. He might have seen this person before. He doesn't care, he grabs the priest by the elbow to jerk him around.
"We need to go, right now."
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Instead, he focused on the people trying to escape. Grabbing some to hide with him and covering their mouths, quickly looping a gris-gris bag around their necks and quietly explaining that as long as they stay silent, the spirits and demons won't be able to see them, giving them some chance to escape. But there's only so many of the little bags he's got, and most people are more intent on fleeing than letting themselves be dragged to temporary safety by the priest.
Midnight himself doesn't escape unscathed.
The allies and siblings of the succubus Grey had captured know his scent and target the priest, turning their host's nails to sharp claws, grabbed at Midnight's exposed arms, tearing through his thin shirt trying to get a grip on him. But he's got his pouch of brick dust, blowing it in his assailants faces, banishing and blinding them for long enough that he can give them the slip.
When he reaches the Lodge, other priests have already formed a perimeter with the dust to make a temporary refuge against the chaos, other magic users present and trying to gather themselves. The problem, though, is that plenty of them are furious and hotheaded enough to believe they should go out en masse to fight back the demons.
That's when he's grabbed and turned, relief flooding through him as he sees it's Grey (battered up as he is as well).
"Oh, thank fuck," he breathes, briefly grabbing the big man in a tight hug. Then he's right back to arguing with the others.
"Look! He's got more experience than all of us with this shit, and even he is saying it's time to go. We need to leave while we still can!"
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The community has come together to protect their dead. The ones that heeded Midnight's warnings, that is. Marco had to talk fast and loose to get his father, his brothers, his cousins and his uncles to join the process. His mother lives in France and he's quite glad she's protected at least. his family has centuries upon centuries of history in New Orleans and when his father realised that the threat was real, he did call upon the whole family to help with sealing off the cemetery from the upcoming invasion. The asshole of course had to have his own plan for the rest of it, far be it from him to actually fall in line and help. There had been arguments and demands and all the antics that had made Marco leave his home in the first place and move into the French quarter with the rest of the magical community.
But at least they had come to help with the spell casting at the cemetery, knowing that protecting their ancestors would be a crucial part of keeping their magic alive.
The cemetery is lit hundreds of candles and there are several people covering the ground around it with a circle of salt. Marco pushes his way through the crowd to Midnight. He's followed by a cousin in a leather jacket, sunglasses perched in his hair. This is Despil, someone who also lives in the French quarter, whenever he bothers to be around at all. The rest of the Sawall family has found their own place near their tombs.
"Hi," Marco greets his friend and then leans in to hug him even if that's not really necessary at all. But listen, he's a little bit in need of physical affection because this whole thing is giving him the creeps. "I guess this is really real."
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"It's really real," he repeats with a little nod, looking out over the others at the tombs. Exhausted still from making his own circuit of the entire city, gathering up the dead to move on to the next world or to at least push them back to their graves so the cemeteries might be sealed off.
"... Not everyone would move from their haunts," he admits with a quiet, sad sigh. "But I tried to get as many of them to move on or get back to the cemeteries as I could."
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His flat is small but that's also why he lives absolutely everything in it. The paintings he's done, his paints and brushes, his potions ingredients, his elaborate and open wardrobe that is a piece of art itself.
He has a bag open on his bed, a simple shoulder bag and he has managed to stuff in the necessities, hygiene products, some potions, a travel kit for artsy stuff. And now he's lost.
"How the hell are you supposed to pack up your life?" he asks from Al, who is sitting on his bed, supposedly helping Marco pack. But he hasn't been packing for the past hour at least. He's just been wandering around and looking at things he loves in his home.
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He's not entirely sure what's going on. He's heard in the past of demons attacking cities, particularly those heavy with magic - either to drain the power for themselves, or in a strategic maneuver to stamp out any chance of resistance - but it's not as if the shifter community dabbles in it. They've got problems enough of their own, and demons generally don't come knocking at them much - too much animal and not quite enough magic to be of use. He's pretty sure some witch tried to explain it to him once, how a shifter's physiology and dual-nature made it more difficult for them to get possessed, but he'd been more focused on making sure she wasn't about to cast any spell to care.
"I ran away with just the clothes on my back and $50 in my pocket, at the start of it," he adds with a small, nonchalant shrug.
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They start by baking. Something for Aidan as a thank you for the last time. It's a nice cheese cake with vanilla and butterscotch filling and orange peels and glaze on top. They leave it to the house. Kai pushes it inside from an open window and leaves a note on top that says they're sorry and thank you for everything.
Then he takes the girl to the tree and leaves her playing while he makes a camp for himself at the outskirts of the clearing, sitting on the ground while he stares at the tree, trying to figure out why it still sings to him, why it still talks to him like it does. He brought a notebook and a pen, and he's trying to write out whatever the tree is saying to make sense to it.
But he doesn't dare to get close to it anymore, even if it urges him to do so constantly.
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Aidan is aware of the visitors, the trees speaking loud enough to catch his attention from behind the cottage where he's got the oven and kiln (and then he comes across the cheesecake which is more of a surprise). While he's tempted to go check on them immediately, he holds back, feeling more than a bit awkward to face Kai after the rather sour way things had ended the last time.
But then one hour turns to two, and he's got some sweet rolls fresh out of the oven. So after a moment of waffling, he takes a bottle of the apple cider, a couple of mugs and a covered plate of buns, idly letting the cider warm in his hand with a little magical help as he walks over to the circle.
The bird cherry is quite noisy in its attempts to get Kai to come closer, enough so that Aidan rolls his eyes as he stops by the man, setting down the food and drink next to him.
"You can touch it," he says to Kai, straightening up after he's set down everything. "I think it's gotten the message not to get too excited after the last time."
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The hands of his watch paused to four AM but when he fished out his phone, he found out that it was just two in the morning. Getting out in his pyjama bottoms and cardigan, he decided to take a quick walk to get the rapid beating of his heart under control. Calling his brother or Grey at this hour was out of the question, but he did send both of them a text to check in with him the following morning.
Midnight's cousin lives by a small park, the trees whispered to him soothingly so he decided to take a quick walk in the park. He must have taken a few more turns though, because after just walking five minutes he couldn't see the house anymore, or any of the familiar landmarks.
Incredible. Only him could get lost in a fucking city park in the middle of the night.
So, he drew in a breath to calm himself and tried to trace his steps back. And again when it didn't work.
Eventually he was about to turn on his phone when he saw something familiar ahead. But it shouldn't have been possible. The bird cherry tree was a dark shade against the night sky, a few lazy wisps floating around it.
Kai walks to the tree and lays a hand on its trunk. "You're not supposed to do that, my friend."
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Back at his cottage, Aidan rouses from his sleep, feeling strangely restless and scenting bird cherry in his room. He doesn't bother with a coat, just tugging on a shirt and his gloves before heading to the circle, the moon plenty bright enough to guide him.
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Neither of them looks quite as ragged as they did when they left Nola, but not quite as shiny as new either. There are bandages and bruises forming. When they come to a halt in the driveway of the picturesque home, he pushes the stand down and pats Midnight's thigh to let him know that he can get off first.
Kai pushes himself up from the swing and practically dashes to them, first he yanks Midnight to a tight hug and then smacks Grey on the shoulder.
"Jackass," he says to him and then turns to Midnight while Grey is rolling his eyes.
"Are you both okay?" he asks the priest instead. "I got your message, but not a word from that asshole." He looks pointedly at Grey who shrugs. "I did text you."
"Yeah, it said 'on the road'." Kai quirks his brows at Midnight.
"We were just a quick drive away..."
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"We were on the road...?" he comments mildly, flashing a little wink Grey's way. "Your bike might need a good cleaning, by the way. There was a bit of mud."
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