"Clear!" I heard vaguely and realized what that meant too late. A lightning bolt smashed its way through my body, the emptiness inside of me keeping the charge longer than it would have and gave me jittery micro-spasms. "Again!" I heard more clearly this time and I had enough of a presence of mind to shout out "NO!" It was surprisingly loud, shaking the entire bar with its echo. It was almost...disturbingly loud. That was an interesting development that I didn't have time to worry about now, mentally filing it away for later analysis. A woman with pink-and-blue highlights, the barkeep, raised her hands that held the defibrillators up slowly and enunciated slowly "Okay there big guy, relax. Your eyes look a tad bit darker than I would like to see outside of horror movies,"

I bashfully simpered at her and said nothing in response, but I did let myself look happier. I waggled my brows at her and said with a slight British accent "The rumors of my death have been greatly exaggerated,"

"It's the reports of my death have been greatly exaggerated," they both said at once. They blinked at each other in surprise and then a grin both appeared on their faces, which was only removed by their sparkling laughter. 

"Yeah, yeah. Gang up on the poor caveman here," 

"Oh, I think all men are dumb cavemen. Not just you," Ilianna said to me jokingly as of that would make me feel better and strangely enough, it did.

"Ooh, ooh," I said in a impression of a Neanderthal and scratched my head to add to the effect. The barkeep and I shared a laugh, strange considering that I was shot in the chest a few moments earlier.

"You're awfully calm for someone that I shot, you sure you aren't going to exact vengeance on me later?" She said in a light tone that still didn't quite manage to hide her worry about what I would do in revenge. 

"Nah, I kinda deserved that considering how I was acting when I walked in," I stopped suddenly as I thought of something. "Your niece, is she okay?"

Ilianna gave me a weary smile and told me that while her niece, Aimee, was terrified out of her mind she didn't manage to get far and the worst she had suffered was a sprain ankle from when she fell down running away. Ilianna knew that she wouldn't get PTSD or anything like that from the experience since she would have seen worst things walking to work from the neighborhood the apartment she lived in were located. The Withering Heights.

I nodded wordlessly and turned to the barkeep. "I never got a name, it's only fair to know the name of the person who nearly killed me," I said this with a boyish smile that told her that I held nothing against her.

She burs out laughing again, like a crow with the voice of a canary, and said "It's Neoma, I think my parents were drunk when they picked that since it sounds utterly stupid," It really did sound stupid but it sounded different and when everyone's just following what everyone else does, it was a refresher.

"It's better than being just plain, old Eric though," It was really was a pain when you were staring down a group of thugs and when you told them that you were Eric, master of arcane lore and all things mysterious, they all started laughing. I can't believe how much embarrassment I would have been spared if I just had a more mystical name. I didn't even have the saving grace of having more than two names! 

Ilianna must have heard me muttering under my breath and she raised a delicate eyebrow and asked me what I was thinking about. "Oh, just the unfair nature of my name being of a binomial state," The blank stare in her eyes clearly told me that she had no idea what I had just said. I sighed and repeated myself in a way that wasn't deliberately over complicated "It's tough being intimidating when you only have two names," Neoma and Ilianna both stared at me for a second before guffawing at me. 

"Okay, okay. You two can stop laughing at me so much now," The scowl on my face was becoming more and more readily apparent but they finally relented in their ribbing. "When did you two become such good friends?" I asked, slightly hurt for some reason.

They looked at each other with a knowing glance that spoke volumes without saying a word, a glance that carried a tactic guardedness, but too much was said with too little leaving me unable to decipher what it meant even if you gave me the Rosetta Stone. I just knew that what they told each other with those few seconds of silence, they didn't want to say out loud for fear of judgement. I told myself that I wouldn't pry too deeply into that, we all have secrets to hide. We all have skeletons in our closets. How could I even dare to look at what they're sweeping under the carpet when the lie I'm telling everyone is the worst one of them all. 

The tale has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.

The wordlessness in the bar was pregnant with somberness when we all realized, some later than others, that we weren't telling each other the truth about ourselves, not about anything that mattered. We looked at each other and offered each other a smile that whispered to each of us that we knew why truth was so horrible, it refuses to lie still. We were frauds, pretenders, and shallowness. I'll leave it up to you to decide who is which.

"Birds of a feather, birds of a feather," Neoma murmured with heartbreaking jadedness. We all knew what that meant achingly well, that we were just as bad as each other. I knew now at least partially why they got along so well, they've been through the same sort of pain. They recognized the broken pieces and nothing brings people closer faster than mutual misery. The only reason why they hadn't seen mine until now wasn't that I had more time to learn how to hide it, I just had to get better at it quicker. 

She reached for a bottle of unnamed scotch on the shelf behind her and passed a trio of shot glasses to each of us. She poured us equal proportions with professional speed and precision. "To the misfits," We drank. She poured us another round. "To the outsiders," We drank. She poured us another round. Neoma took longer to think of this last toast before finally deciding on the simple "To us," We drank just as quickly as before, but we took the time to feel the liquor burning down out throat like acid.

"Back to business," I loudly declared without the slightest hint of inebriation. I looked curiously at Ilianna and realized that she never did tell me why she needed my help. "Say, you manages to drag this bum all the way over here and you still didn't tell me why you needed my help," 

It seemed like she had deliberately put off on telling me why she came to me for help with the way she froze mid-move, hand barely removed from the glass. Ilianna squared her shoulders in an effort to force herself to say what she desperately needed me to do, halfway between resolution to ask me despite what I might say and anxiety if  I refused. "Hailstone, my family is cursed. At midnight, the oldest in the family has been violently murdered. Heart exploding, liver failing, lungs collapsing," 

She waited a second before continuing to flick a strand of hair from her face. "Everyone else we hired to find out who was behind it got attacked by the curse," She looked into my eyes stoically "You're the only person who won't get affected by it, isn't treacherous, and is strong enough to get to the bottom of this,"

"One of these things is not like the other," I muttered unintelligibly under my breath. Before Ilianna had a chance to call me out on it, I said with sinking quietness "And I'm guessing you're the last one left,"

She gave me a wry smile and told me that there was another one left but I was such a hard man to track down that he got killed by the time she found me. I mulled it over in my head and told her I would take the case. I interrupted her before she got her hopes up too high "I hope that there's still money in the family vault to pay for my services," 

She gave me an aristocratic laugh and announced that even if they bought a new yacht everyday, there would still be plenty of money in the vault until doomsday. "Just checking," I thrust a thumb out and asked if it was normal for their to be blood leaking from under the walls and there to be alien symbols that seemed to be written with the faces of damned souls appearing on the ceiling.

Surprisingly enough, Neoma seemed used to this. "Ah fiery Hell," She spat out. "It's tax day,"

-----------------------------------Author's Comments---------------------------------------------

My Blood Priests have informed me that your efforts, while admirable, have not been sufficient to ward off The End Of Days. Cthulhu and Yog-Sothoth are approaching closer and closer to our plane of existence while you readers have yet to follow me! The only way to save yourself is to become one of my zealous followers!