fitgof

[fitgof]

Milas pushed Folklore into the wall. ”He'll be in touch for what? What the fuck did you do?”

“Get your hands off me,” Folklore said.

“All your disappearances while she waited here for you, and suffered alone. That’s how he found her. You sold her out.”

“You made sure she was never alone.”

Milas punched Folklore in the face. “You don't deserve her.”

Blood trickled from Folklore’s nose and spilled over his lips. A bloody grin broke out on his face and he laughed. “And you do?”

Milas pounded his fist into Folklore’s face once more and the back of Folklore’s head made a satisfying thud against the wall. Pain throbbed in Milas’s knuckles, but it didn’t stop him pulling his arm back, ready to wallop another one. But Amy would never forgive him if he did anything to her boyfriend and he can’t afford to lose his job for assault. Without his job he can’t find Amy. And when he does, maybe she’ll want to have her own revenge on the boyfriend she adores.

“Get out,” Milas said. He stepped away, shaking his fist to weaken the sensation of the bruising forming through it. “You’re not fucking worth it.”

[fitgof]

Her fingers clenched in and out of fists. Milas grabbed her hand while it opened, feeling a jolt spike up his arm the moment his hand clamped around hers. He felt it before on the porch. She’d been playing with her magic wand then, and she sparked with magic now. It’s just how she is.

“Lorey, I’ll be fine,” she said without turning around. “Everything will be fine.”

Milas’s heart sank. Of course she thinks her boyfriend is the one to reach for her, because why wouldn’t he be the one to hold her close. He expected Amy to pull away when she realised it wasn’t her boyfriend trying to hold her back, but she didn’t. She stared deep into Milas’s eyes like he often caught her doing.

“Ames?”

“I’ll be okay.”

Milas squeezed her hand. He didn’t want to let her go. But he did. Her fingers slipped out of his grasp. “Okay.”

“Come now, Ambrosia. No more delays.” Dianthus pulled Amy to him and began to walk her out the door, whispering in her ear on the way out.

Milas stepped forward, but was pushed aside by Folklore. He let his irritation slide, it’s about time Folklore did something.

“Wait,” Folklore said.

“I’ll be in touch,” Dianthus said. Then the door slammed shut and the weather outside returned to normal.

[fitgof]

The door handle turned and the lock clicked. With a creak, the wooden panel slid open, and standing framed in the doorway with empty blackness behind him was Dianthus, leaning on his cane. The overhead lights flashed on and Milas squinted to allow his sight to readjust.

“One, two, three…” Dianthus pointed at each of them while counting. “Somebody is missing. Where is my old friend Mr Pond?”

“What do you want?” Amy said.

“It’s a pleasure to see you again, Miss van Aster. Your manners are always such a delight.” Dianthus stepped closer and the door shut behind him. “We have a lot of catching up to do. I want to apologise for the way things ended between us.”

“You locked me up and tortured me! You killed everyone!”

“Oh, let’s not get into who killed whom, hmm?” A sly smile twisted on Dianthus’s face and he straightened a button on his coat. “Talked to your parents lately?”

The disappearance of Amy’s parents intrigued Milas. He didn’t buy her story that they moved to Fraise, but something happened to them to no longer be in her life. He assumed magic shenanigans but did Dianthus kill them? Or… no, this is what Dianthus would want. For doubts to fill his mind, to think the worst of Amy when he only thought the world.

“Come with me, Ambrosia, and I’ll leave everyone be. We have much to talk about,” Dianthus continued. “They’re not worth my time.”

“Let’s talk here.”

“And give your friend Mr Pond time to arrive? I think not.”

“You’re not taking her anywhere,” Milas said. He kept his voice steady, and stared Dianthus right in the eyes. Inside, an inflatable air-tube man danced through his body threatening to make him tremble.

“You do have a way of picking up loyal followers,” Dianthus said. “I wonder how easy that could change.”

“No!” Amy shouted. She stepped forward and raised her arms protectively. “I’ll go with you. Just leave them alone. Please.”

“Good girl.”

[fitgof]

“I can hold him back,” Amy said, light sparking from her hands. “I don’t know how long, but enough for the two of you to get out. He only wants me.”

Sparks charged and crackled between her fingers. It’s one thing to know she’s a witch, with magic to use, even experiencing its effects when she teleported them out of the cabin, but Milas had never actually seen the power of magic with his own eyes. Knowing she could do that would have been handy a few minutes ago to light a candle. And he’d have asked her to charge his phone that time he lost his charger.

“I’m not leaving you,” Milas said. “You don’t have to face him alone.”

His heart pounded fast in his chest and Folklore bristled beside him.

Milas expected her to fight him; to demand she be allowed to blast the door down and go out there to fight. He anticipated fighting her back. To argue about keeping her safe indoors, even physically restraining her if her loser boyfriend allowed it. Does he even care? Folklore should be the one promising to never leave.

The beauty spot on her cheek twitched and Milas imagined she was overcome with all the thoughts of what she could do. What might happen to all of them if it isn’t enough. Her magic fizzled out.

“Can you teleport?” Milas asked.

Amy shook her head. “He’d know. He’d know and he’d follow me.”

A sense of helpness weighed Milas down- he’s a mortal trapped in a fight between two witches and whatever Folklore is. A vampire if it can be believed, but none of them knew how that worked. And Milas didn’t know how magic worked; how can she be followed?

Fucking idiots, all of them. Thames had a contingency plan about Dianthus. Probably in one of the files strewn on the living floor but it didn’t include meeting the old man in a wild magic storm with no power and it assumed Milas wouldn’t leave his gun in the car.

Maybe he can lure Folklore to the door and push him outside as sacrifice. Milas would risk the attempt if he and Amy could leave together.

[fitgof]

“It’s not a real storm.” Amy stepped towards the kitchen doorway. “I can’t control any of it. It’s an illusion. It’s–”

“–Magic.” Milas finished her sentence, joining her in the middle of the room.

The quick taps hitting the door became louder and more forceful.

“What’s going on?” Folklore asked from the hallway as the lights flickered off.

“Someone or thing is out there,” Milas said. Too bad Folklore hadn’t left to go late night prowling or whatever he does when he leaves Amy alone so he could be out there now, lost in an illusion, far away from here.

“Maybe it’s a forest ranger?”

Milas ignored Folklore’s suggestion. Maybe it’s the hairy-toed squashfoot looking to borrow a cup of sugar from its friendly forest neighbours.

“Is anyone home?” A voice called from outside.

Amy brought a trembling hand to her mouth. “Dianthus,” she whispered into her palm.

“Are you sure?” Milas asked. Of course she’s sure, and with the wild magic storming outside there couldn’t be any other reasonable explanation.

[fitgof]

An owl hooted outside, breaking Amy’s concentration and she finally lifted her head. Milas followed her gaze to the window behind him. She’s drawing a fucking bird. Of course she’s not drawing him. The owl sitting on the window sill spread its wings, and with a soft flap, lifted itself away and disappeared into the woods.

Lightning burst into flashes directed at the cabin, flashes of pink and blue and yellow. Thunder rumbled in the distance soon after. Amy leaned over the couch to look out the window and immediately backed away when a strong wind beat on the glass.

“Thames?” Milas said into the phone, only hearing silence.

Outside, where the owl had flown, the trees folded over to one side and then another. The wind found gaps between the logs holding the cabin walls together and whistled an ominous tune through the cracks. Then someone knocked on the door.

“Thames?” Milas stammered back into the phone. “Does anyone know where we are? There’s someone at the door.”

Only silence answered.

“I can’t stop it,” Amy said.

“Huh?” Milas barely registered she said anything at all. He attempted to redial but his fingers slipped across the screen. Any calls refused to connect. “Fuck!”

[fitgof]

“And nothing happened the week before that, or the week before that,” Thames said with a sigh. “Nothing is still something to report."

“And we both need to go to this meeting?”

“This whole investigation will fall apart if we don’t,” Thames said. “The Captain thinks we’re wasting resources.”

Someone needs to stay by Amy’s side. That’s protocol. With both of them away from Amy, only one other is nearby but Milas trusted the hairy-toed squashfoot more than he did Folklore Phlox.

“He’s ready to throw the whole thing out,” Thames continued.

Milas scratched the hair growing on his chin. He’d never been able to grow a full beard like Thames but the scruff was enough to hide his baby face underneath. His fingers began to itch. Now would be a great time for a cigarette but he left them in the living room right where Amy sat on the couch by the window.

A few minutes passed since she last looked up, her sketch absorbing all her attention. Did she even notice Milas watching her? Footsteps creaked around the cabin, no doubt Folklore was awake but Amy had yet to notice that too. She didn’t even notice Milas in front of her right before he came to his senses so she’s not going to notice him from the otherside of the cabin.

“That means bringing Folklore in,” Milas said in a low voice.

“Yes, it does.”

[fitgof]

“–think you can do that for me?”

“What?” Milas flexed his bicep and tugged at the sleeve of his shirt to reveal a peek of muscle but Amy remained focused on the page and not his primping.

“I said, I need you to get your reports done about this week.” Thames sounded irritated. “We need to make sure we’re on the same page when we talk to the Captain later.”

Milas took a sharp breath. “Nothing happened this week.”

Except he nearly kissed their witness under his protection.

Later that night when Milas lay on the couch, haunted by the moment while trying to sleep, he realised cameras probably watch the cabin. Thames is a great agent. The best, even. But could the best know what Milas did from a fuzzy security recording when Amy herself didn’t notice while standing right in front of him?

Everyone in the agency knew the story of Agent Laurel. He was assigned to protect Girasole Oregano, wife of raffia boss Fiordaliso Oregano, but a romantic relationship formed between the agent and his witness so the mob killed him. Breaching protocol cost Laurel his life.

Milas very much did not want to be killed.

[fitgof]

Amy’s pencil scrawled across the page before she looked up in Milas’s direction again. What was she drawing? The kitchen table, the lamp? The tiny cabin didn’t hold much inspiration. Milas’s fingers tapped the kitchen counter outpacing the butterflies flitting around his stomach. Him?

“Are you listening?” Thames' voice cut through the phone attached to Milas’s ear.

“Yeah, of course,” Milas said, keeping his focus into the living room.

Thames continued to talk about the case, his voice disappearing in Milas’s thoughts. Something, something Larkspur, something something no leads.

Milas straightened his back and puffed out his chest a little.

When he was twelve or so, his family dragged him to the Loofah Museum to see the famous large statue of a naked man on display. Of course being twelve he had no appreciation for art and found staring at a naked man with his mother embarrassing. Fifteen years later his own art appreciation hasn’t changed but he does understand artists appreciate models with good form and posture like the statue of Davidia.

[fitgof]

Groundsel Falls

[fitgof]

“Milas…” Amy opened the cover and ran her hand over the blank page.

“I thought it might give you something to practice with. You said it’s been a while.”

“I don’t know what to say.”

“You don’t have to say anything. Especially don’t say anything to Thames. Finding it was actually why I was late. But seriously, it’s no big deal,” Milas said and ran his hand through his hair. “There are hundreds of these in the stationery department for our forensic artists.”

Amy’s heart began to climb out of her chest. “You stole from your office?”

“No one will miss it. Someone over-ordered them,” Milas said with a sheepish smile. “Those spreadsheets can be confusing with all the numbers. What’s one cell for a listing of ten boxes doing there instead of individual items…”

They held each other’s gaze and Amy felt herself pulled back into the dungeon where he sang and saved her. Questions about it danced on the tip of her tongue. His face bent towards hers, and a lock of hair fell into his eyes. She wanted to reach out and move it away. She could ask him now; they were so close she could whisper her question.

He licked his lips and pulled his face back. “Won’t Folklore be awake soon?”

Her heart plummeted. “Yes, it is getting late.”

She’s just a job to him, nothing more. Milas doesn't want to talk to her, he’s got his own things to do. Milas Monterosa would never risk his career for Ambrosia van Aster and it was stupid of her to think he cares that much.

[fitgof]

The front door opened and closed. Milas is here right now, she could ask him for this favour, he probably would do it. Maybe. If she’s nice.

“Thank you,” Amy said, standing in the kitchen doorway.

“What for?”

“I know bringing my friends here was your idea. I appreciate it. So thank you. I mean it.”

“Thought you probably needed someone else to talk to. Girlfriends, especially. You’re holed up here with three men…” Milas gave her a genuine smile and Amy felt herself staring into his eyes a little too long. He broke their shared look first. “You called me an agent, you know.”

“What?”

“You called me an agent when you introduced me to your friends. I don’t think you’ve ever actually acknowledged I’m an agent. It’s always ‘officer’, or ‘detective’.” Before Amy could respond, he turned to the kitchen counter. “I brought something for you.”

"A gift?"

He handed over a notebook and pen. "Well, it's not wrapped or anything."

[fitgof]

“Amy, you said a potion turned him, right?” Flora asked before Amy exploded all over the room.

“Yes, it seems the most likely.”

“Do your agent friends still have it, as evidence? Would they be able to get a sample?”

“Milas is not my friend,” Amy said, ignoring the eye rolling of the people she started reconsidering friendship with. “But maybe I can ask. Why?”

“If I can figure out what it was made of, we can find out what it is and refocus our research. I can concoct a remedy if there already isn’t one.”

Amy looked out the window. Milas is only getting started as an agent and wants to do his job successfully and be promoted. Being caught could get him demoted into the back offices or out of a job. But solving the case could garner him the promotion he craves.

However this investigation is part of Thame’s life’s work. He wants to see the investigation he’s spent his entire career working on closed but he’s also about to retire. What is the agency going to do if he does steal some evidence? Fire him?

“Do you really think you’d be able to do that?” Amy asked.

“If I can get a large enough sample, then it might be possible.”

The plan was agreed upon and Amy’s friends left, teleporting themselves and their book collections away. Now all she had to do was beg and plead for Milas or Thames to sneak a sample of the potion out of evidence so Flora could work her magic and figure out what exactly Madame Shadow gave Lorey.

[fitgof]

“Maybe the movie was based on more truth than we think.” Dahlia shoved her hand into Amy’s face. ”Do you think my nails are too dark? Should I try peaches-and-cream next time instead of the coral?”

Amy pushed Dahlia away. “Can you take this seriously? Lorey is going through horrible changes–”

“I am being serious! If the vampires were never fully dead then they need a new army of blood suckers so maybe they outsourced the recruitment.” Dahlia should become a writer with her wild imagination.

“To fortune tellers selling trinkets and tarot readings on side streets?” Amy never trusted a fortune teller. They were either hags or phonies, out to trick mortals for money. If they were a real witch they’d been withered, punished to never use magic again, or had no magic at all. They’d never be able to create whole new beings.

“Well, they do attract a certain type of clientele…”

“Excuse me?!” Steam poured through Amy’s ears or so it felt like. After all the times Amy kept her mouth shut for every comment and every slight she ever wanted to make about Angelus and Dahlia insults Folklore’s intelligence without even a second thought.

[fitgof]

Sunrose closed her book. “I haven’t found a thing about vampires in these, Amy.”

“Neither have I. Sages have access to far more books and records than we do,” Ivy said. “So if Sage Ember says there’s no cure, then I believe them.”

“I remember our history lessons about the vampires,” Dahlia said, studying her fingernails. “The first vampire ripped out his heart to offer it to his great love but she turned him down. Needing a way to stay alive long enough to win her back, he drank the blood of his victims but it wasn’t enough. He created more vampires through blood magic so they shared a life force to keep his own heart beating. And once he was dead--deaddead--so too were the rest.”

“Dahlia, that’s the plot to the Bloodthorn movie trilogy,” Sunrose said.

“Oh, are you sure?”

Sunrose nodded. “I had posters of Ginger Reed all over my walls for years. I was obsessed.”

“Arendsii was pretty tall, dark and handsome,” Poff said, waving her hand to her face as if she had the vapours. “I’m not sure I would have turned him down like Ginger.”

[fitgof]

“I do not have dibs! How can you say something like that when we're trying to help Lorey. My boyfriend.” Amy snatched the book back into her hands. “And he is not cute. I had to shove all of his things under the sink just so you would have somewhere to sit because he’s a messy, foul mouthed, chain smoking, pig-headed smug faced jerk. You have no idea how irritating and insufferable he is to deal with on a daily basis.”

“Sounds like someone else we know,” Poff said and everyone except Amy laughed.

“Are you helping with these books or not?” Amy scowled. Letting her friends into the safe house after Thames surprised her with their visit may have been a big mistake.

Amy spent the day catching them up on what’s been happening but left a lot of the details out, like her parents' whereabouts. Who Dianthus is and what he’d done with her. She really didn’t tell them much of anything and she hated lying when they asked more questions. But Thames told her for their safety to stick to the basics, specifically things linked to the official investigation of Folklore.

“Where is Lorey anyway?” Flora asked.

“Sleeping, probably. It’s too bright during the day for him, even in the cabin.”

“Are you sure he even is a vampire?” Poff asked. “Maybe we’re looking into the wrong thing.”

“Sensitive to light, has fangs, drinks blood,” Amy said counting off each thing with her fingers. At the mention of drinking blood she rubbed at her neck where Folklore’s teeth had pressed into her skin remembering the euphoric feeling of him sucking on her there. “Any other ideas?”

[fitgof]

“Monterosa?” Dahlia tipped her head to the side and twirled a strand of hair around her fingers. “You’re not related to the Tutsan valley Monterosas, are you? One of them left his pregnant girlfriend at the altar. It was a few years ago now—”

“—never heard of them.”

“Really? But they make the most expensive—”

“—I’m going outside for a smoke, so if you need me, I’ll be right out there.” Milas pointed out the window.

“We won’t.” Amy sat on the spare seat next to Dahlia, for once grateful for her friend’s gossiping nature.

Dahlia peered through the living room window watching Milas light his cigarette. “He’s cute, do you know if he’s seeing someone?” she asked.

“Dahlia, you’re seeing someone!” Sunrose said from the floor.

“Well it’s not like we’re married. Angelus obviously has his own secrets; look at what he’s been hiding from me! My very own best friend.”

Amy regretted the grateful thoughts she had about her friend and flipped through the pages of one of the tomes without reading any of the words. “Milas sees plenty of people. He’s been on dates multiple times while we’ve been locked up here and with people with the same name! Can you believe it? Who does that.”

“Well, okay then.” Dahlia sat back in her seat. “Amy has dibs.”

The book floating between Amy’s hands hit the floor.