#it's fine tho he figures out how to poltergeist a little bit

[lieutenantmongoose]

Verse Info: Good and Faithful (or, a polite haunting) 

The Story - 

( Good and Faithful, Codifier )      -     In which Jopson died just before the 1839 expedition. He tends to avoid discussion of how it actually happened, but in any case he had just accepted the stewardship position and had been counting on those wages to pay the doctor for his mother’s treatment, and needed to ensure that she and Avery would be reasonably comfortable in his absence.  

Being that he had neither time nor inclination to be dead, and truthfully not quite even realizing he was dead, Jopson simply collected himself and carried on as usual, under the impression that the whole incident was simply a minor dizzy spell.

The issue, of course, with continuing to pilot one’s corporeal form with a severed connection between body and ghost, is that it’s somewhat akin to clutching a bedsheet in front of yourself while standing outside in a hurricane. And in addition to keeping hold of that bedsheet, you also have to hang up the rest of the laundry on the lines, and avoid letting your neighbors see that you’re out in a hurricane in nothing but a bedsheet still trying to finish your laundry, because odds are your neighbors will have Questions about this type of behavior. 

Fortunately, Jopson had always been quick to catch on to things so it was with only a minor bout of sudden collapses and fits of uncharacteristic clumsiness that he mostly got the hang of the situation before setting sail, and for the most part was able to avoid any trouble. 

Avoiding trouble lasted until a point about halfway through the expedition, when he very nearly frightened Captain Crozier into a similar state by forgetting to shiver. Or keep up a pulse. This almost led to a rather tender moment indeed as Crozier was quite unhappy to see him Dying, but this was abated by admitting to already having been quite dead from the beginning and thus unchanged in status despite what ought to have been a lethal case of hypothermia.

All in all, Crozier was actually rather more amenable to the idea of having a dead steward than he’d thought ten minutes prior, and all continued as normal. 

However

Once the Franklin Expedition begins

( Oh Dear, My Heart/The Moon Plays Host ) 

It turns out that keeping hold of the proverbial bedsheet is a lot more challenging under certain conditions, and there are only so many ‘fainting spells’ that can be got away with without arousing suspicion, and that the presence of a strange magic in the air tends to have interesting effects on ghosts improperly connected to the mortal plane.

It further turns out that this arrangement creates a bit of an impasse when faced with soul-devouring creatures. They are used to tackling a body and pulling the soul from it. The soul simply moving out of the way is not generally expected, and is regarded as highly inconvenient. 

Or, 

Jopson is a ghost during the Franklin Expedition, which is fine, except that improperly tethered ghosts start to get a little bit creature-y the longer they drift in seemingly-cursed landscapes trying to reject their souls like a bad transplant. Also, at night, Jopson can see the crew’s Dead still wandering the ice. 

[the-roanoke-society]

What's the story behind the Agents of Sass and Class tag? How did Seraphim and Succubus meet within the society even tho they were from two COMPLETELY different agent circles? P.S I love you, bitch. 💖💖💖

now you did get the initial beginning down pretty square—seraphim had heard, on the periphery, that oh, we had a new necromancer, and man, her origin story was equal parts bizarre and intriguing (with the normal touches of tragedy that seemed to paint the narratives of everyone at the estate from time time—but such is the human and non-human condition of this plane, unfortunately).

let’s talk about it.

between the emotional aftermath of enoch’s abrupt departure, the city in the hills, all on top of routine missions that she was still being handed from lilith, there was a lot that seraphim missed. it wasn’t because of apathy. it was because of exhaustion. (and then there was still the matter of agent whiskey, of statesman. she was… still working on figuring that part out. but jack loved a good chase. and a good fuck.)

a large part of that was succubus’s training and entire initiation. but even as it was, for some reason seraphim couldn’t quite discern, lilith had been very keen on the senior agent being at least a bit aware that she was around.

very keen.

“hey, it’s—clementine. right?”

those were her first words to her. she’d overheard poltergeist a few days ago, talking to wendigo and mothman about his newest recruit. that he’d done the grave test, as he’d done with other field agents in training before her.

seraphim didn’t hate him. not exactly. but he reminded her so much of john who sparked such a deep anger and hurt inside of her that it was difficult for her to physically be around him for long. and it broke her heart to see another person being spiritually shattered in this way.

she’d pivoted abruptly, leaving the lounge before any of the three had seen her. fuming.

we aren’t wild horses. this is all so goddamn unnecessary and exhausting.

it didn’t feel like they were being broken and remade into something better. it just felt like breaking.

looking back, seraphim was grateful that rae had let her carefully lead her to one of the stools by the center island, get her tissues, a wet towel for her face, and food that was actually plated. she was hardly the first person seraphim had seen weeping in an odd place in the manor, although crying in front of an open fridge was a first.

clementine wasn’t clementine for long. soon enough, she was raeanna. then rae. but a lot about her was… guarded. that first conversation in the kitchen that night was very much a weird kind of dance. seraphim had to learn where to press, where not to press. the shapes of what she was willing to share versus what she wasn’t. and succubus, for her part, had only a vague idea of who seraphim even was.

“my name’s morgan. uh, seraphim’s my handle. it’s nice to finally meet you.”

an exorcist, fine, a senior agent of apparent high regard, sure, but succubus didn’t know her and didn’t exactly relish the idea of a sleepover-tier get-to-know-you conversation in the middle of the night with the witch that poltergeist had constantly used as a standard to decimate her confidence.

the closeness and seamlessness they share as a duo on the field wasn’t formed overnight.

but it was engendered in one.

because succubus found that for the life of her, she couldn’t withstand the barrage of kindness.

they ran into each other a few times after that, always in passing. succubus still had her training to finish, and seraphim had her normal fieldwork.

but one day, shortly after succubus had finally graduated out of poltergeist’s authority to become an agent in her own right, lilith called seraphim into her office. all of her usual calm smile and gentle—if not a little suspicious—demeanor.

“morgan! there you are! i see the color’s gotten back into your face since you came home. did mr. daniels have something to do with that? … aaannnddd look, now there’s even more pink there, i’m taking that as a yes.”

“lil, please. look, did you need to ask me something? i’m assuming you called me up here for a reason.” seraphim took a seat in one of the plush armchairs on the other side of lilith’s desk, watching her superior thoughtfully twirl a red apple in the space above an open hand. it had a bite out of it.

“you know me well. i did have something that i wanted to assign you, and agent succubus.”

“agent? oh, she got through training! thank god, i was scared that adam was going to run her off, or worse, and—wait, both of us?” seraphim lifted one brow. it wasn’t that she’d been hit with dread, but she’d never worked with rae afield before. she wasn’t sure what to expect.

“yes, she’s become quite the gifted necromancer under ‘geist’s—particular brand of tutelage. … morgan, would you like an apple, or are you just jealous that you haven’t quite mastered the art of object levitation?”

seraphim sighed. “both, if i’m honest, but joe’s been teaching me energy manipulation.” she caught the apple that lilith tossed to her from a bowl on the small table behind her and eyed the manila folder she slid onto her desk towards her. “granted, it’s not like i have a separate universe at my hands. our magic doesn’t look the same. but it’s…” her voice softened. another sigh. this one was sadder. “… it’s nice to be able to explore what i can do. after everything. you never really stop learning, i guess. not really.” she poked at the folder. “but uh, i’m a little bit more curious about that, ma’am.”

lilith smiled kindly. she’d have to speak with mothman later, see what exactly they’d been up to. “we’ve had—reports,” she began, flipping open the folder. seraphim took a bite out of her apple, reaching forward to touch one of the photographs that was on top of a stack of scanned newspaper clippings. “of something interesting happening around the outsides of las vegas.”

seraphim picked the picture up, frowning at it. “uh—lil, uhm, what, what am i looking at?” she spoke around the apple bits in her mouth. the only distinct shapes she could make out in the photo were the mountains in the distance and a police cruiser. but this black blur in the middle…

whatever it was, it was massive. easily at least ten, twelve feet, comparing it to the car. big, dark, and—were those antlers?

“we’re not a hundred percent sure. but we’re afraid that given the damage its caused and an uptick in insomnia and night terrors around the part of the city where it’s been sighted, it may be something demonic.”

“which is why you’re sending me. okay, i follow you.”

“we also think it might not be completely alive in the traditional sense.”

“… it’s not what now?”

lilith rubbing her hands together. not a good sign. “we don’t think it’s—living. no mundane weapons seem to slow it down, which isn’t necessarily a huge surprise, but other members from the nevada office that were dispatched had similar misfortune. granted, their specializations aren’t quite like yours, or like rae’s, and we’re wondering if maybe we just need an approach with… let’s say a dynamic more like the one you two have.”

“lil…”

“i don’t mean anything as shallow as a game of holy versus unholy. i only mean that both of you are walking different sides of the same road, going the same way. you have a decent handle on being, as luca has said, a ‘light-bringer,’ and rae makes a weapon out of darkness. between the two of you, this thing doesn’t stand a chance, and the vegas mayor will, once again, owe me a debt.”

“uh, once again?” why was it that she consistently left lilith’s office with more questions than answers?

“it’s a long story, i’ll tell you when you get back. now go find rae, please, i’d like to speak with her. take this file with you to review. our dear darling quetzl just got back from visiting his mother, he’ll fly you out tomorrow morning at six a.m. sharp.”

“yes ma’am.” seraphim bit down on her apple, holding it in her mouth as she used both hands to shift through the file.

this would make for some interesting afternoon reading, but first, to find succubus…

*   *     *

“did you eat breakfast?” seraphim asked the next morning, hoping that a pair of dark capris and a light grey button-up wouldn’t end up being too hot for the desert. she couldn’t bring herself to just wear a tank-top. she didn’t like how people looked at her scars.

“… what?” succubus was rubbing sleep out of her eyes, almost tripping up the steps into the jet. almost. “oh shit—uhm, no, i opted to get as much sleep as possible. kind of regretting it.”

“what, sleeping in or not eating anything?” seraphim got up into the plane first, slinging her duffel bag upwards onto the rack over their seats.

the good witch—which seraphim thought was a fuckin’ weird name for a plane—was one of the nicer jets in roanoke’s hangar. the flight from kentucky to nevada wouldn’t be tremendously long, but it’d give them a few hours to rest, and if seraphim had her way, to be better friends.

this would be the first time they’d be stuck together for an extended period, and she wasn’t sure what to expect.

succubus laughed, and readily handed her own bag to seraphim’s outstretched hand. “both.”

“then boy do i have a surprise for you two!” seraphim and succubus both jumped at the booming voice of quetzl, who was the most intense morning person seraphim had ever met. all dark eyes, dark smiles and a demeanor that could be likened to a nuclear reactor.

before either of them could quiet react he’d already stuffed pop tarts into their hands—smores flavor into seraphim’s, strawberry into succubus’s. “you’re welcome. now please, go sit down, i’ve got to radio phoenix and get him to open the hangar up for us, but as soon as the gate’s up, we’re outta here!”

and as soon as they sat down: “dude do you want to trade? that one’s my favorite.”

“seriously? hell yeah, that one’s my favorite too.”

okay. off to a good start.

but seraphim closed her eyes as soon as they hit cruising altitude—she’d watched succubus take out a worn copy of carrie, and had to hide her smile—and when she opened them again, it was to the tune of quetzl’s voice over the p.a. system. “ladies! and—other ladies! all of the two ladies on board. we’ll be landing on the airstrip by our nevada compatriots here in like, thirty minutes. we’ll be right on the outskirts of henderson, which means around a thirty minute drive to the site that lilith wanted you to investigate first. so please return your seats to the upright position, do the thing with the tray tables, you’ve been on a plane before, just don’t run around the cabin, that’s literally it. … thank you for your patronage.”

succubus rolled her eyes. “is he always like this?”

seraphim laughed in response. “welcome to air quetzl. never boring, and sometimes just—real fuckin’ annoying.”

“better annoying than boring, though?”

the senior agent hummed, nodding. “i—yeah. better annoying than boring.”

*    *     *

agent tahoe met them in the hangar. blonde-haired, blue-eyed, and all six feet of her like a ray of sunshine. seraphim thought she was going to bruise her knuckles with the strength of her grip. where the hell does lilith keep finding all these morning people?

“seraphim! good to see you again, look how long your hair’s gotten! and you must be our newest crowned, agent succubus! i’m senior agent tahoe. our ah, staff’s stretched a bit thin at the moment, what with all the monster bullshit, but don’t worry, i’ll be the one making sure you get to where you need to g—“

“emilia! baaaabe! how’s it hangin’?”

“… clark.”

her tone went deadpan and succubus was trying desperately to keep some sense of professionalism.

“oh come on, you’re not still mad at me, are you?”

“if you two will follow me, our ride’s waiting in the garage juuuuust down this corridor here—“

“oh sweet, what did boss man upstairs lend us?”

“i said you two. meaning them. you are going straight inside where someone can keep an eye on you. and don’t touch anything.”

“emilia!”

“go fucking upstairs.” but all the venom in her voice disappeared when she turned back to the team at her shoulders, following close behind her. “in all seriousness, we’re really glad y’all are here. whatever this thing it, it broke jarbridge’s legs, compound fractures, too. i mean, she passed out, which is good, she says she doesn’t even remember it happening, but i’m pretty sure lovelock’s gonna have to take some kind of sabbatical, you know how squeamish he is around blood…”

succubus glanced at seraphim once. her face was a little pale.

but seraphim just put a warm hand on her shoulder, and leaned closer to her. “hey. this asshole hasn’t met us yet. we got this.”

 *    *     *

tahoe was the kind of woman where, if you didn’t make any attempt to steer the conversation, she could talk gore and guts for literal hours (seraphim had heard her do it enough times before).

once they’d gotten into a shiny black falcon coup (that, despite how clean it looked, was straight out of 1975) seraphim watched succubus’s face become more and more drawn.

she’d survived poltergeist. that spoke volumes in and of itself. but even the confidence bred from that firewalking brand of training, well…

seraphim remembered her first mission solo, without enoch at her side. all she had to do was envision that bright yellow doorway on lincoln street and it all came flooding back, visceral but short-lived. the nervousness. the fear. and for her, at least, an acute case of being overwhelmed.

but then… poltergeist hadn’t left.

would it have been so bad if he did leave, really?

seraphim shook her head. “—emilia! emilia. uhm. look, now, you know i love a war story as much as the next agent, but ah, rae looked a little confused as to why you were being so cold to clark, and frankly, i am too, i thought you two had patched things up?”

if there was one thing tahoe liked talking about more than body horror—it was her exes.

succubus didn’t want to let on that her heart was in her throat, and she had her hands balled into fists in her lap so no one could tell they were shaking. what had she gotten herself into? double compound fractures? were her bones about to see the light of day as well? she suppressed a shudder.

she loved bones. she loved her own bones.  she loved them most when they were safely under her skin like they were supposed to be.

but succubus also loved gossip, and seraphim, as it turned out, was an excellent enabler.

also turned out that quetzl was just as awful to date as succubus had judged beforehand, according to tahoe. “and okay, i’ll concede that maybe i shouldn’t have been looking through his phone but damnit, rae, it was my own sister! like, both of my sisters! who does that?”

  *    *     *

their arrival point was hardly anything climactic—although ‘cinematic’ was still a word that seraphim would’ve used. in a very regional gothic sort of way. the sun was high by that point, not a cloud in the sky and it was so blue that it hurt her eyes. she could see roaring vegas in the distance as she stood by the front of the coup, taking a drag off of her cigarette. her usual pre-mission ritual these days.

“i didn’t know you smoked,” succubus said quietly, but even as soft as her voice was, seraphim jumped anyway, coughing. “oh shit, sorry, i didn’t mean t—“

“it’s okay! it’s okay. it’s a gross habit. i keep telling lilith i’ll quit, but…” she stared at it in the v of her fingers, shrugged, and then took one long final inhale before flicking upwards, snapping her fingers, and—where the hell did it go? “i don’t know. i don’t have a lot of motivation to stop. and anyway, that’s not why we’re here, we’re here!” with a grand flourish, she turned, motioning to the spread of desert before them. “to catch a monster.”

succubus grinned. “i do like the sound of that.”

“hell yeah you do! we are the fuckin’ veil!” tahoe had a mapped spread out over the car’s hood, covered in various markings. “shit, iiiiii am utter garbage at location work, i wish jarbridge was out of medical already—“ she laughed. “man she’s probably high as a kite right now anyway. she’d be useless. okay, look just—you two come over here.”

seraphim and succumbs watched at her shoulders as she pointed with one black-painted nail to a part of the map marked with three sharpie x’s, all in a triangle and all on the other side of a low, craggy ridge about a mile or so from where the dirt roadside where they’d parked. “based off of all the intel we’ve been able to gather, we think that it’s home base is right around here. now, it’s daytime, and this thing is one nocturnal son of a bitch, so the strategy is to get a jump on him on his home turf. catch him with pants down, or whatever.”

succubus hummed, “oh, now those are my favorite kind of missions—“

tahoe lifted her eyebrows. “remind me to ask you some questions when this is all over and we get celebratory shots on the strip or something. now!” in a few wide strides she was at the trunk, popping the lid with the wave of a hand as she walked. “these are yours.” she handed seraphim her usual pistol, and succubus a standard issue handgun marked by the roanoke insignia and a few sigils she couldn’t quite recognize.

“there’s my baby!”

“uh, morgan, what kinds of babies have you been around…?” but seraphim was too busy taking practice swings with a large wooden bat, embedded with nails, wrapped in barbed wire and prayer beads.

“rae, meet virgil. virgil, rae. most trustworthy man i’ve ever met.”

succubus lifted her eyebrows in approval. “will, uh, i get one of those—?”

seraphim had the audacity to wink. “if you make one yourself. i’ll tell you virgil’s story over all those shots tahoe said she was going to buy us here in a second.”

but tahoe was back studying the map. something about her posture was different. her back straighter, her lips in a tighter line. there was a beat before she lifted her eyes to the agents, sighing. “i wish there was something more i could give you. anything more. but this is it.” another short exhale. “we don’t know what, exactly, this is. but you two are going to be the best crack at it that we’ve taken so far. if things get hairy, just head back here. i’ll stay here with the ride. my office is a button-press away. don’t—“ she swallowed. seraphim felt nervousness tug at the base of her stomach. this wasn’t like emilia. “don’t be scared to bail out. might’ve saved jarbridge her legs. i’ll be here, okay? comm’s on. you’ve got your specs. call me beep me, whatever.”

succubus lifted a hand, reflexively tracing the frames that rested across the bridge of her nose.

“… good luck.”

seraphim had one hand on the top of the holster strapped across her thigh, the other on virgil’s base. he rested easily across the width of her shoulders. she knew where the grooves were to keep the barbs from digging into her work jacket (although a few still did anyway). succubus realized the weird straps of leather stretching across seraphim’s back were just another holster as she took one more swing, then popped the back into the curved sockets. “we won’t let you down, em. rae—stay at my shoulder.”

but she waited until they were a ways down, making their own path through the sand before she kept going: “—but when i say get behind me, get behind me.”

succubus frowned. “what, you think i can’t handle it?”

“rae—“

“no, no, please, enlighten me.” they didn’t stop walking. their path started to descend down, and succubus could see the rocky edge they’d have to hike over to get to the triangle marked on tahoe’s map. she wondered if it’d be like the monster movies she’d watched as a kid; would there be a cave? a dark, yawning maw on a hillside, looking like it’s full of nothing but pitch, like how sophie walked into the cavern in howl’s moving castle?

seraphim didn’t answer immediately, but then: “this is our first time. not to make this sound all euphemistic and shit, but i’d prefer if you didn’t, i don’t know, get a part of your neck bitten out, get your bones broken—y’know. work stuff.”

succubus blew out a breath. “right. … right. i, uh. i’m—“

“don’t.” seraphim smiled. succubus realized how easy it looked, sliding onto her countenance.

it didn’t make sense.

she’d seen this same woman look absolutely haunted when she thought no one was looking.

“i’m here to act as guardian angel. this is a part of your training.” and softer: “… and mine, too.”

“hmm?”

“nothin’. just stay close, okay?”

“‘kay.”

  *    *     *

the rest of the walk was fairly quietly. seraphim kept singing under her breath, but succubus couldn’t make out anything familiar.  she thought she heard something like “it’s rainin’ tacos…”

they came up on top of the ridge, and succubus squinted, staring down. it was a sheer drop, and while it wasn’t like they were on top of the grand canyon, she was pretty sure a fall from this height could kill someone. or at least make sure they never walked again. seraphim whistled lowly, motioning off to the left. “looks like there’s a path that goes down.” her voice was soft, but solid. “if i had to guess, we’re probably standing on top of this thing’s house. ten bucks says there’s a cave or something similar down there.”

“deal.”

and as it turned out, there was a cave.

well—‘cave’ might’ve been too kind of a descriptor.

to seraphim it looked more like a giant had straight up just clawed a huge whole into the side of the rock. the entrance was marked by sharpened, jagged stones that looked too much like teeth for her liking.

they approached painfully slowly. as soon as the ground had evened out, seraphim had drawn her pistol, and succubus mimicked the movement. but there was no sound, nothing, save for the wind whistling over the ridge.

“look like about how you expected?”

“with a bit more cacti, yeah. and the police cruiser is a surprise.”

the saguaro looked like they belonged there, but that car did not. seraphim wondered if it was the same one she’d seen in the photo lilith had shown her, but this one had definitely been through the wringer.

all the windows had been shattered. the sun caught the shards of glass that surrounded it, making it look like someone had spilled stars onto the sand. it was covered in dents, the place where the engine was had been hit downward (whatever engine there had been was now probably less engine and more just… car parts scattered underneath the cruiser), but what caught her eye the most was a set of six long lines dug along the length of one side.

claw marks? teeth marks? it was anyone’s guess.

—oh. and we’re about to find out.

succubus suppressed a shiver underneath a full sun. “what do we do?” she whispered. she could see seraphim’s jaw working, brows furrowed.

“should’ve brought a grenade…” a short sigh. “well, too late now, and this isn’t exactly joe’s last d and d campaign. i don’t think charging in there is a good idea. we have no idea of the layout, and ‘strength in numbers’ doesn’t apply to every situation, especially not ones like this.” she lifted a hand and ran it along her chin. “… okay. okay. i have an idea.”

“what’s the idea?”

“you go wait by the cruiser. i’m gonna whistle and try to draw it out.”

“… are you being serious?”

seraphim grinned and it looked borderline maniacal. “sure am. something tells me it might have a weakness to sunlight, hence why we only see it at night. if it is demonic, like lilith thinks, i’ll be able to bind it. and if it’s undead—also like lilith thinks—then you’ll just dispatch it.” she nodded to the handgun at succubus’s hip. “those bullets are holy. should do the trick. now get over there. i’m going to see if i can pull off a tom and jerry, get the jump on it from behind if we can just lure it out.”

so. succubus found herself on her knees behind the front part of the cruiser, sheltering behind the busted metal. she watched as seraphim had walked a far, wide circle, coming back to the ridge face and slowly edging her way along the rock, her spine pressed as flat against the stone as it would go. virgil, abandoned for the moment to make space, leaned against the rock some ways away. succubus was already regretting that decision.

it felt like ages passed as she side-stepped. side-stepped. side-stepped. side-stepped again.

until finally seraphim was close to the cave’s mouth. but she didn’t draw her gun again, like succubus had expected. it stayed holstered alongside her thigh. but she did roll up her sleeves to reveal—were those tattoos? where had those come from? succubus couldn’t remember seeing them before. had she found time to mark herself somehow?

but she didn’t have enough time to ponder. because seraphim met her eyes, nodded once, and turned her neck.

there it came, a whistle, low, long and, succubus reasoned if she could hear it from all the way behind the police car, loud. seraphim abruptly jerked back, flattening herself again. her palm spread wide against the stone, trying to feel the vibrations of movement, the vibrations of anything.

but an entire minute passed. then two. then five.

seraphim blew some air into her cheeks, and with trembling legs, finally began walking back towards the car. “look, rae, i think maybe the recon team got the wr—“

it came so quickly that seraphim immediately collapsed to her knees. it was a high-pitched banshee wail of a shriek, so cacophonous and blaring that even when succubus jammed the heels of her hands over the shell curves of her ears it did nothing to soften the sound. she screwed her eyes shut, and just as abruptly as it started, it was done. when she opened them, trying to remember how to breathe, how inhaling and exhaling felt, seraphim had collapsed onto her rear on the other end of the cruiser.

succubus swallowed. “what. the fuck. was that.” her voice was quiet. a jet plane would have been quiet in comparison to what they’d just heard.

seraphim had no color in her face and couldn’t immediately answer. “… okay. that’s uh. probably the target. i apologize, i completely gave in to the monkey brain flight-or-fight response there and didn’t pick the right one.”

“i don’t know if i necessarily agree.” they stared at each other for a few beats of silence. both were afraid to move. it wasn’t something either of them were trying to hide that moment. “—what do we do now?”

seraphim took a breath, her mouth moving to answer, but was interrupted by—succubus didn’t know how to describe it, not straight away. it had different parts, all moving and all happening so close together it was hard to pick them apart. the whoosh of air, the clean cut of metal on metal, that short of shink noise that a knife made up against a whetstone. succubus blinked.

she thought she’d seen sparks between them.

literal sparks, as if the side of the car had been hit with something.

her mind was trying to catch up.

… are those claws?

the fingertips—nails, talons, claws, all of them—of a hand (‘hand’ was a generous descriptor in this instance) were sticking out of the side of the car. not opening the door. they were sticking out having gone through the outer frame of the cruiser.

tap. … tap tap.

succubus was going to be sick.

taptaptaptaptaptaptap—

seraphim abruptly fell backwards as the half of the car she’d been leaning against was wrenched back, and she found herself staring upwards, right into the face of the monster of the photograph.

“jesus christ you are so much uglier up close.”

“morgan for fuck’s sake—!“

succubus was reaching, grabbing, trying to grasp her pant leg, something as this thing let out another scream. it threw the chunk of cruiser down where seraphim had been lying in partial shock just seconds earlier. the crash was deafening and before seraphim quite knew what was happening, she was sprinting across the sand with her elbow in a grip that was almost bone-crushing.

“run!”

it didn’t matter that they were armed. it was too close too fast. there was no time. no space. it was on them like–what was it poltergeist had liked to say? white on rice.

that thing didn’t have to make a noise, they could both hear the hoofbeats behind them, could see the too-long, too-prickled shadow catching up to overtake theirs on the desert ground.

“what the fuck! what the fuck! shit!” succubus wasn’t leading them back to tahoe, then there’d be three dead agents instead of just two, and she absolutely believed that there was for sure going to be two.

“—i have another idea!”

“oh fucking great!”

“no no no, this one’ll work i’m positive!”

“isn’t that what you said last time?!”

“if you remember correctly, i said no such thing! trust me, old school always works! let me go on three, okay? one—three!”

succubus hadn’t planned on turning around, but then the—demon? zombie? old forgotten demigod or someone’s bastard offspring? who knew?—started to make a new sound. she ran until its shadow wasn’t touching anything in her sight, ending up back against the ridge. only then did she turn.

… wow.

what she hadn’t seen was seraphim pulling off what she’d honestly considered a hail mary.

they couldn’t outrun it. in the time it would take them to draw their guns, it probably would’ve sliced them open at the elbows. and as any necromancer, or exorcist, or witch, or sorcerer can tell you: it’s very, very difficult to concentrate enough to do anything, let alone put up a decent defense or guard, when you’re actively being chased and doing the opposite of gaining ground.

not for seraphim, anyway.

not yet.

as soon as succubus’s grip released from her arm with a push, seraphim dropped like dead weight onto her back and prayed—prayed very, very hard, and focused, just like she’d been taught.

she forced her elbows to meet, right up to her wrists, as she was very, very narrowly missed being stepped on (which would’ve been lethal—apparently she’d missed the velociraptor feet the first go-around). and as she did so, the marks on her arms made a shape—a circle, decorated with smaller symbols, around and around and around…

a seal.

“a capite ad calcem.”

from head to heel.

freeze, motherfucker.

succubus turned in time to see the target upheld over seraphim, who was flat on her spine against the dirt, directly underneath it. it almost looked like it was being suspended by the thinnest strands of razor wire—succubus kept catching glints as it thrashed, and something black began to ooze out of it.

seraphim had some drip right onto her flushed cheeks, struggling a bit to keep the seal intact.

succubus began to understand why poltergeist had brought her up so often. for a beat, she could only stare.

and with a bit of surprise, she realized she didn’t feel envy, or any kind of spite—because that’s just what adam would have wanted, isn’t it? to break a thing before it got a chance to breathe?—she felt awe.

she felt pride.

which quickly melted into panic as soon as seraphim’s voice cut through her haze, upped a pitch in the chaos. “rae? buddy? a little help? this dude’s—oh shit, no you do not, asshole mcgee—just a smidge stronger than i first thought. show me what you’ve got! deport this fucker!”

every line blazed into a brightness that hurt her to look at for too long, and it suddenly all snapped into place. every single thing poltergeist had taught her, flooding back. perhaps her learning retention was better than she thought.

as another of the monster’s cries echoed against the ridge wall—this one perhaps a bit more pain than rage—she ran closer.

those were petrov lines—which meant that was an azrael seal. azrael was an archangel who had special dominion over retribution; his marks (and succubus understood that oh, those are what seraphim had on her arms, i just couldn’t recognize them in broken pieces—) aided in trapping demonic entities that had manifested onto the physical plane. this was one of the first seals that seraphim had been taught, and for good reason.

okay. so a demon.

but petrov lines, those only appeared for beings that were demonic just in part. something that came from some of the in-between worlds, an underworld that was a hell but not a hell.

something that succubus merely recognized as undead.

fuck, it’s both.

but succubus suddenly felt a surge of confidence at the light of the lines, and she lifted her hands, gun forgotten, darkness already beginning to twine out from her elbows, down to her wrists. she stalked, predatory, and seraphim tried to both watch her partner and keep this thing under control.

she may not have seen succubus’s hand motions, the intricate movements of her fingers in rapid succession followed by a definitive slicing motion.

but she heard her, speaking in the same tongue she had.

“ad initium—asshole!”

seraphim watched as cords of black intertwined with the lightlines, and kept watching as they found the creature’s neck.

it was both forces together that bore themselves down and quite literally razored the being into little chunks. no more black fell on seraphim’s face. it simply dissipated, as if it had turned to ash.

what was it that lilith had said?

walking different sides of the same road.

it took about a minute for it to disappear completely, and when it did, for about as long, neither agent moved. seraphim was exhausted. muscle fatigue manifested as tremors in her arms. she stared up at an empty sky as succubus slowly walked towards her, finally kneeling down by her side.

“… you good?”

“… yeah. you good?”

“yeah.”

“groovy.”

seraphim closed her eyes. she could’ve fallen asleep if she hadn’t started to hear distant yelling: “oh my god what did you two DO?!” tahoe was scrambling down towards them, yelling, looking equal parts horrified and elated. “i heard—oh my god, i—morgan, rae, you’re alive, you’re both alive, hallelujah, and no bones! morgan, what the fuck is all over your face? whose blood is that? is that blood? holy shit i can’t believe you—woah woah!” she caught succubus as she flopped off to the one side, threatening to collapse. “rae. rae, stay away. morgan. … morgan!”

she slapped the exorcist on the bicep, and the exorcist in question swore but in a much more whiney tone than she’d originally meant, to which tahoe just quipped: “oh walk it off you big baby. we’ll have a beta team come out and cleanse this area, it’s still tainted, which means if you’re gonna faint, you can’t do it here. c’mon now, up we go—“

succubus, as a newer recruit, had the luxury of tahoe’s arm around her waist, helping her to stagger to her feet. seraphim had a few false starts before she managed to first roll up onto her knees, then finally, to stand. her first few steps were shaky. but she shook her head, blinked a few times, and glanced over at succubus and tahoe walking back towards the car.

and they grew steadier, as she went.

around thirty minutes later, time found them all sitting at the bar of a classic, neon-tinged greasy spoon diner, complete with black-and-white checkered floors and a jukebox in the corner that apparently knew three songs: rocketman, dancing queen, and under pressure.

not a bad mix, honestly.

“ladies!” tahoe was the first to lift her shot glass. the three of them swirled with some cheap well tequila, given a pink sheen from the lights. “what do we want to toast to?”

“… uhm.” seraphim mumbled, staring at her glass. “weee… should toast toooo…”

“… new friendships?” succubus had spoken so softly that at first, seraphim wasn’t sure she’d heard her. but once she understood, she grinned, broadly.

“to new friendships—and to the first of many victories.” succubus smiled back at her. … i think i could really like it here.

“cheers!”

their glasses clinked to the tune of sir elton john, crooning softly: “and i think it’s gonna be a long long time… and i think it’s gonna be a long long time…”