[Milo]

"My name is Sharlize by the way...I know I hit you with my car but damn you could atleast ask." She let out a hesitant laugh and tucked her hair behind her ears. Her eyebrows furrowed with concern as she studied the bruises blooming across my battered face.

I felt a small lump in my sore and freshly fucking choked esophagus. FUck no no no no no! Tears welled up angrily in my eyes. I opened my stupid mouth but nothing came out except a croaky whimper.

Sharlize scooted closer, the springs of the couch squeaked softly as the cushions She rested a gentle hand on my wrist. Her eyes were soft, almost caring.

"Hey....It's um–okay....You're gonna be okay, guy. What's the matter?" She paused, biting her lip, before reaching to wipe a streak of blood from my cheek as if afraid to make the wrong move.

I focused on the touch of her hand, willing myself to get it together. This whole fucked up day had been a shit show. But her kindness cut through it all.

"I just, this whole day has been, never mind...This is really nice of you–You’re really nice. All things considered. Thank you, Sharlize." I met her gaze again, hoping she could read the sincerity in my tired and Xanax-depleted face.

Finally, I did something besides cry like my balls were in a piranha tank. I don’t know anything about defense attorneys but she seemed taken aback by me being genuinely being godamn grateful.

I broke eye contact nervously looking around the room as my eyes fell on the worst thing possible–A picture frame of Sharlize and what I assume was her sister….Fucking Detective Smith. I must have nearly jumped out of my skin because she turned to see what caught my attention.

“What? I thought you were starting to feel better–” Her words were dripping with feeling, I could hear her thoughts racing just from her tone switches.

“Nothing, is that your sister?” My voice cracked at the end of my sentence but she seemed to ignore it as she grabbed the photo with a small smirk on her face. She leaned back slightly before speaking in a more even tone.

"kinda...miss crack detective Shyla Smith is my square-ass cousin." She took a small drag from the blunt hanging from her lips. The smoke rose from her plump lips into her nose as she exhaled...Im sure she might be getting uncomfortable with how much im just staring--I can't really help it tho.

"Oh, I know what having a loser family member is like" I laughed trying to play off how light-headed I was as I looked around the small apartment once more. The living room had ironed white blouses and pencil skirts everywhere. I feel like there's something im not getting about all this.

"We actually unfortunalty are roommates...Shouldnt be a problem though-she has a double shift tonight. Oh and if you're feeling up to move at all we can pull out the matress from the couch" She slapped the side of the couch playfully.

"Shit--sorry, didn't know I was bleeding on your bed at all..." I attempted to stand shakily as my feet started moving like that dumbass penguin in that kid's movie. Every movement was agony as my lungs nearly gave out.

She reached out and grabbed my shirt pulling me down a little painfully. " Dude it was a suggestion not really a command..." Sharlize took a drag of her blunt, cherried embers glowing as she inhaled confidently. Seems like im not the only one who needs something to chill the fuck out.

She pursed her full brown lips, the smoke escaping in tiny rings that floated up to the white popcorn ceiling. The sugary scent mingled with traces of cinnamon and cloves. The apartment was filled with the aroma of a girly Candlestore weed dispensary fusion.

I shifted on the lumpy couch, the burnt orange corduroy fabric itchy against my bruised skin.

Sharlize's chill vibe cut through the tension knotted in my shoulders. Im not sure exactly how this was possible but I barely felt anything from being hit by the car. It's like something wanted me out of that house...I can only imagine what could be worse than getting plowed by a babe's car.

She slouched comfortably in her red oversized hoodie and leggings, hair piled on her head in a messy bun. Meanwhile, I probably looked like an extra from a torture porn flick.

"We can just chill and watch TV if you want," she said, grabbing the remote. "I'm guessing you've had a long-ass day." She didn't look at me this time. Im guessing she was nervous or didn't care about the energy I was giving off as the night trailed on.

I laughed, then cringed from the stab of pain in my ribcage. Sam's dumb ass was probably still wandering around that haunted house, bored out of his mind by now. If I had a phone, I'd call him to cuss his ass out.....fuck--no I wouldn't I kinda miss him.

I wonder if Sam is doing okay...I know he left me in the house as some stupid-ass prank. But leaving him at that haunt house probably was a step too far. If I had a phone I'd call him, To be fucking honest I have no idea how ill even see him again. We'd never made any plans on where to meet if this went south. Plus the apartment is still probably tented up like a circus. I hate him so fucking much but the idea of him alone and cold made me feel worse than any of my pussy-boi injuries.

Stolen content warning: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences.

The Plasma screen TV lit up brightly as a local news anchor stood in front of the godamn Yater manor! Every time I feel like im catching a break my dick gets shocked in another outlet!

"Tonight we have a special interview with Detective Shyla Smith." The news anchor's monotone delivery somehow amplified the chaos behind him. "Devastating death and destruction rains heavy in New Orleans' Garden District..."

Sharlize raised a curious eyebrow, her dark brown eyes flitting between the destruction onscreen and my panicked face. I know they had a dead 6'7 Samoan laying in the backyard but the amount of cops and fully suited coraners was ridiculous!

I probably looked like I was shitting a pile of rusty razor blades. The cops were swarming the same damn mansion I'd just fled, half-alive. And I'd left my oxygen mask dangling there like a signed confession. Fuuuuuuuuuuck.

Sharlize slowly lowered the blunt, smoke leaking from the corner of her mouth. Her nails, Unpainted and natural, clicked anxiously on the remote control buttons, the volume dropping to a muffle. I know she was raising it in shock but I heard nothing. She side-eyed me with an unreadable expression before turning her focus back to the screen.

I know they had a dead 6'7 Samoan laying in the backyard but the amount of cops and fully suited coroners was ridiculous!

I wiped my sweaty palms on the burnt orange corduroy couch, eyes darting around the room.

Body bag after body bag clearly full of dismembered parts came and went as they gave the nastiest details of what I'm now understanding had nothing to do with me--But of course would backfire like an old truck.

Icy moonlight filtered through the window behind me, shadows shifting across the room. A dress shirt lay draped over a chair, the white fabric glowing silver...Exactly like the shirt that psycho security Hulk groundskeeper wore. The one who chased me into the hedge maze just before...

I'm sitting in the lead detective on my case's house--Staring at her beautiful cousin like the puppy I stole from the mass murder scene...

im going to prison for the rest of my godamn shitty life.

[ Samael ]

I stumbled out of the crimson abattoir, my footsteps squelching on the antique viscera-soaked rugs. Police sirens wailed in the distance or maybe they didn't...the sound warping into the Bagmen's cackles echoing through my splintering mind but it was different this time. I felt his presence truly as if tangible.

His heavy breath seemed to emanate from the bag as if tiny porelike orifices excreted chlorine gas. His morphing body shapes made it barely visible he was wearing a grotesque suit made of writhing flesh. I had never truly been able to focus on him before. Is this truly the monster that inhabits my body?

"Tick tock, tick tock, Sammy boy! Po-po gonna be here real quick. Best scurry like a rat if you wanna find that root!" The Baratone wicked witch laugh made me want to throw up more than the massacre.

My heart hammered against my ribs as I slid down the hallway, leaving a gruesome snail trail in my wake. I had to find Milo and the high john. But my thoughts kept snagging on those lifeless eyes, frozen wide in horror, faces twisted in silent screams... Am I now my father? Was this his affliction in his soul?

I had not slaughtered innocent girls like the animal that sired me yet...I cannot dismiss the idea that I may have let myself become a whole new monster entirely. I walked deeper into the dark servant's tunnel, in the darkness I stumbled over the destroyed decapitated head of the guard who tried to stop me earlier.

There were three dead men all around my body type while I stood No matter what these men had planned for me--They did not deserve to be ripped apart as feeble baby seals rend of their blubbery epidermic casing.

I shook my head fiercely, trying to dislodge the visions. "Just keep moving," I gritted out softly between my bated breaths. The cool walls reminded me of the Lancaster desert nights as I felt my way back the way I came.

The Bagmen snorted. "Oh sure, keep moving! Right to death row if you don't pick up the pace. I can only do so much with this blood-cord spell..." I made it to the end of the cave leading to behind the hedge maze conveniently, everything in my life now felt supported by the hands of demons and strings of fate.

I broke into a staggering run as red and blue lights painted the front drive of the mansion behind me. The sirens blaring my sins through the foggy new orleans night air. Scrambling into a narrow passage of a storm drain, I crawled on hands and knees, my breath turning to panicked gulps as stagnant black water became my new home.

The space tightened around me, the walls themselves came alive, undulating with whispers, wriggling with shadows that clawed hungrily at my face. The small voices of the void were back as they tickled my skin instead of ripping it.

The gate I had opened must have been that 'crossroads' Legba needed to connect to our realm...I must find a shaman or spirit woman quickly before this takes hold of me completely.

This storm drain wanted me dead too. I squeezed my eyes shut, willing my heart to still as I slithered into the dark. The root - I had to find the root and Milo...because that's what brothers do. They search for each other in the dark. I had never left my petulant brother alone, this could only spell out downfall.

I trudged in the sludged black water for what felt like minutes before reaching the other side. My trembling hands closed around cold metal - a storm grate. I pushed with frenzied strength until it gave way, then spilled out the other side into the moon-soaked garden district.

I was outside at last, the sirens fading as I stumbled for the gate on jelly legs. I had escaped with my life...dirty and demon-afflicted but alive!

I glanced back once at the towering manor, its peaked roofs knifing the night sky. The sky cracked open silently pouring torrential rain as if god had witnessed my crimes and wept.

"We could make this real easy...Let me see your useless little milky eye." The Bagman offered a dark pulsating hand to my face as I trudged through the dark edge of the Mississippi Riverview

"What's the catch?" I kept walking closer to the river as the foggy night obscured my escape. Everything seemed calm though I know if I had been seen by anyone....I would get the chair like my father.

"Well Legba not around...How 'bout I show you where Milo is?" He seemed to twitch as he lied to me blatantly. I was not stupid just tired and homeless.

"What do you want in return demon?" He recoiled slightly in disgust it looked like. His form changed as he walked with no motion seeming to just be still frames of a sinister Haitian man.

" I want you to put a curse on that dumb little amulet--things been a pain in my ass for generations...." So he does have limitations--I can't exploit his tendencies for violence and vengeance.

"Sure, you show me Milo...I curse the root. Easy and no side claus bullshit alright?" I came to the cool river's edge and sat down looking at my reflection.

My dreadlocks and face were caked in sludge and brain matter. I am disgusting, I have become nothing more than a tool for my own gain. But to what end will I meet if I cannot even--I felt the Frighteningly now real hand of the Bagman on the back of my aching head.

Somehow this deal involved him breaking the barrier of touch that defied the precious known laws of physics I was accustomed to. my head went at inhuman speed into the shallow depths. The cold water didn't give way to a grinding sand faceplant.

I opened my eyes to see Milo sitting comfortably with some woman. They didn't seem to notice me as my head stuck out like a chandelier. He was bruised and battered but alive.

At least I know....My eyes snapped to the still frame of Detective Smith as both her photo and TV self stared ominously at me.

Milo had gotten us in a world of trouble...I will find him and make him pay for his ignorance. As my head rocketed upwards all I could hear was the Bagman's cold laugh at the rising unfettered rage inside me.