⛤ Crossroads Investigations ⛤

Though this was only their first hunt together, Margo felt a sense of familiarity. A smaller part of her felt that the incoming mental breakdown would happen any moment, and that she'd lose a potentially magnificent hunting partner. She watched Evan work to tie up the body for just a moment before going to wrap things up with Muñoz.

Fuck, I'm so tired. And my back hurts.

Margo walked up the steps to the house, rolling her shoulders, but wincing from the movement. footsteps muddy and leaving prints. Muñoz was incredibly surprised to see her back so quickly— and she assured him that yes, Evan was okay, just waiting in the van.

After a short chat and one business card later, Margo arrived back to the van with a broad smile and a pep in her step.

"If you know where the witch lives, I'll let you drive." Magro snickered, twirling the van keys on one finger before hopping into the driver's seat. Also, regarding that report of everything, there's a lot of everything. Like a lot. You'll need to just start studying up on a few of the times and articles I have. I've got a book of studies and articles I've written myself that would be extremely informative. Better yet, everything I've written is something you can trust to be correct. But also, everything in my office and at my apartment had been combed through and I've tested just about everything in them to prove or disprove the information. So— so what I'm saying is that everything in my office and apartment are at your disposal. Mi casa es su casa!" She smiled, turning the van on once Evan was in, and taking off down the old muddy dirt road at break-neck speed.

"By the way, we need to talk about that shit your blood does. Has it always done that? And you just never thought to tell me? I'd honestly be a little offended if that were the case. I'm hoping you're gonna tell me that it's something new that you've never had happen before so that I have a mystery to solve."
 
Mi casa es su casa!

Evan grunted softly, nodding in acknowledgement. "Then you wouldn't mind me transferring every physical copy, book, and file you have to my midicomputer? I'll make S.I.D a proper database that can be searched through and accessed from anywhere with a signal." He yawned and then added, "Unless you have the hard drive space to store it locally. Then you can reference it from anywhere, provided you got battery power."

He felt himself dozing once the motion was continuous, but he jolted upright and with a warning from his gut that Margo better not forget about the burgers on her way to her friends house. Didn't know if he'd survive without something hot and greasy and salty. His head turned quickly to Margo when she brought up what happened with the wendigo though, something anxious and terrifying crawling up his throat.

"You mean yours didn't do that too?" Evan asked slowly, rubbing sleep and a budding headache from behind his right eye. "But no, no I-- Margo, I've never met a wendigo before so I never knew that could happen. I don't even know what it did anyways."
 
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Margo's stomach turned at the question of whether or not she could transfer all of her things via midicomputer. She'd mostly worked through physical copies- some of those things couldn't just be transferred to miditech, for fear of unleashing things.

But Margo nodded anyways, "Mmm...yeah...sure! Super do-able. Yessir."

Margo's stomach growled loudly, and she drove a little faster, her shoulder and back aching.

She glanced at Evan while he explained himself, and she believed him. She was usually good about feeling lies. Lies always made her head buzz.

She was quiet for a moment, thinking. So Wyrwood had no idea that his blood was different in some way.

"My blood don't do that, actually. I've never seen someone's blood do what yours did. Totally new concept to me!" She gripped her steering wheel and smiled at Evan, clearly excited, "Silver burns Wendigoes. Most night creatures are hurt by silver, actually. Or Iron. Iron does damage to most. Holy water, salt, the works…" Margo trailed off, losing her words in a train of thought.

"Do you have a special bloodline? I mean, obviously you're a Wyrwood and that means a certain thing to Crossroads, but where did the Wyrwoods come from? Do you think either of your parents made a pact with anything? Were they both human? Or was it a distant ancestor that wasn't human? You know what—" Margo paused her verbal thinking, taking a sharp turn onto Main Street, the van's tires screeching a bit, "Gimme a sample of hair, spit, and blood, and we'll figure out what you are!" Margo laughed, then hissed as the movement reminded her of her wounds.

Clearing her throat, Margo pulled into Beck's, swinging into the drive thru.

Before Evan could tell her what his order was, she silenced him by placing her filthy finger to his lips and turning to the drive thru, "Evenin'! I'mma need a quarter pounder meal with extra pickles, extra cheese, light onions, no ketchup or mayo, and add bacon. Dr. Pepper to drink, no ice. And then I need another quarter pounder all the way with mustard, mayo, and cheese, no ketchup, and another Dr. Pepper."

At the order-taker's beckoning to pull forward to the next window, she did. The boy at the front window looked somewhat horrified to see the state of them.

"Uh, that'll be...Ten ninety-five...please..." He spoke.

Margo turned to Evan, hand outstretched for the money.
 
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"I know my file doesn't have my Beck's order." Evan said with a grimace, tugging at his back pocket to retrieve his wallet. He handed over a fifty and a credit card in case they didn't take large bills. "How long you been watchin' me, detective?"

Evan shook his head, wiping away the crusty blood Margo left behind on his lips. "Updating the S.I.D archive to digital will be my training."

It was as much a declaration as a mantra, especially when he thought back on the state of the office. For a moment, both Evan and the young drive through clerk had the same horrified expression on their face. Evan's eventually soothed to something more relaxed as he imagined installing bookshelves and creating a cataloguing system— for both digital and physical files. He'd also need to photograph and catalogue every item in the room, maybe even create an actual display apparatus. Perhaps he'd even alphabetize it.

Perhaps he should have stayed on desk duty, his skills definitely shone there.

Still, there was something exhilarating about the ache in his sternum and the still-muffled state of his ears. A satisfaction— a pride in helping Muñoz.

"As far as I know there ain't nothing special about the Wyrwood's."

It wasn't exactly a lie. But it wasn't exactly the truth.

"Don't know much about my mom's side of the family. Her name was Sarah Auryone."
 
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Margo took the fifty, slowly bringing it to her nose to sniff. The man was just handing out fifties— and at Beck's Burgers of all places. She took the credit card and also sniffed it, for good measure, before handing it to the drive-trhu kid, who took the crisp fifty with a mildly shaking hand.

"Th-thanks— do I need to like, call anyone for y'all?" The boy asked.

Margo laughed, "Hah! Nah. No— we're good. Just a mildly harrowing hunting accident." Margo replied.

The boy closed the window to take the payment, and Margo turned to look at Evan with a guilty smile. Biting her lip, she snickered.

"I definitely didn't get your Beck's order out of your file. I've been keeping tabs on you for about two weeks now— nothing serious. I needed to know stuff." She reached out the window when the boy came back, and she took the bags of food and the drinks, setting them in Evan's lap, and the drinks in the cupholders without looking as she also took the change, stuffing it into her pocket, rather than giving it back to Evan. Same with his credit card— right into her pocket. Perhaps it was due to her forgetful nature, or perhaps she was trying to see how much she could get away with. It was notoriously hard to tell with Margo.

Pulling out of the drive through, Margo spoke again, but with a slightly more serious tone, "Listen, I'm sure you've heard a lot of rumors about me and my department. And I'm sure most of those rumors come from the folks who'd been sent to me, the same way you were. I didn't want another Esmeralda Vasco situation— that nearly bankrupted me, actually. I'm still paying her hospital bill. I watched you so that I could make sure you were right for this kind of work. I had a good feelin' 'bout you, so I didn't try to stop your transfer. And the big boss-man wants you keepin' an eye on me anyways— that's usually the case."

Margo reached over for her burger as she drove towards the church cemetery, and unwrapped the foil from it to take a bite.

"By the way, it's gonna take you fuckin' years to catalogue everything I've got. There's more at my apartment, too. Way more."
 
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The look Evan speared Margo with was one of incredulous offense. "I can type faster than you talk." He assured, unwrapping his burger as well, taking a swig of cold Dr. Pepper as he did, wincing at the movement. Evan rubbed at his sternum absently, taking bite after bite, alternating with a mouth full of fries.

"Didn't Vasco move to Houston a few years ago?" Evan asked with a mouthful of burger, "I don't plan on moving anytime soon, so I can't be a Vasco."

As they finished their meal they neared the church, Evan glanced in the rearview mirror, where the corpses continued to decay in the bed of the van. Were they really going to show up, dig a grave, and pretend nothing happened? Did they need permission from the pastor? What if a passing nun saw them and fainted from the sight?

Evan burped into his hand and took another sip of his Dr. Pepper, head finally clearing.

"So… what're we gunna do at the church? Any paperwork that we need to fill out beforehand?"
 
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Margo snickered at the look Evan gave her, finishing the burger before moving onto her fries.

"Yeah, Vasco moved away because I got her hand cut off. Her family's got ties to Old Money in Dallas. So they got the best lawyer they could and sued the shit outta me. Took most of the money I had left over from my mama to get outta that hole." She huffed. But she understood. Margo shouldn't have taken Vasco on a supernatural hunt. Shouldn't've even let the woman into the department.

"Seems like I can't learn my lesson, either." Margo nudged Evan's shoulder gently, sipping her soda, "And I've got permission for the rest of my life to use a specific corner of the cemetery for my purposes. The priest and the convent and I have an understanding. Father Agustin's a vampire by the way." Margo dropped the last sentence after a quick pause, deciding to rip the bandaid off. Evan was likely going to learn it one way or another. Might as well get him used to the idea.

Margo glanced at Evan as she pulled into a driveway on the far side of the cemetery.
 
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Evan choked on the last of his french fries. Perhaps it was the gluttony, picking through the bag to find remnants of the salty, starchy goodness. Perhaps he just couldn't believe what had just come out of Margo's mouth. He shook his head violently— after catching his breath and coughing out the bit that choked him.

"WHAT?!"

He was basically glaring now, inquisitive eyes searching her face for the telltale signs of lies. Evan didn't find any, but it was also too late in the day to argue about the supernatural, especially after the hunt.

"You know what, I don't even want to know tonight. I've known Father Agustin since I was a child— I don't… Wait a fuckin' second," Evan said suddenly, shifting in his seat to stare at Margo, a wince of pain coloring his face. "If he's a vampire, how the hell is he able to walk on holy ground? He baptized me for God's sake!"

"Nevermind." Evan chanted before Margo could even answer. "And by the way, next time you get sued, call me. S.I.D or not, you're a part of Crossroad's Police Department— you have qualified immunity —that suit shouldn't have gone through."

Evan gave Margo a scathing look as she pulled onto holy ground and made her way to the back of the church, where the cemetery and the father's parsonage was located.
 
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Margo pressed her lips together tightly, trying not to laugh at Evan's reaction to her understandably wild claim. Her shoulders shook with the effort to contain the laughter- until she snorted, and covered her mouth and took a few deep breaths.

"Listen I'm not entirely sure how Father Augustin manages it- he ain't given me his whole story yet, but you better believe I pester 'em about it," Margo slurped her soda, "I owe that man my life, and so does Vasco. Only reason she didn't lose more than a hand was because of him."

Margo looked haunted for a moment, her skin paler than normal, her eyes distant. But she snapped out of it to continue, "That chupacabra was the biggest one I'd ever seen, y'know. Direwolf big. I didn't even know they got that big, but I guess that bastard was well-fed. He gored the shit outta me because Vasco had a mental breakdown once she figured out I wasn't as crazy as everyone says I am." Margo sighed and shook her head, considering Evan telling her to call him next time.

"She told them we weren't doing department-related work. Which I understand, I guess. My department's not a real department to the folks upstairs, so how could I be hunting things on department time? She had to tell herself something that made sense so she wouldn't lose her mind. I get that, I do." She spoke, clearly conflicted about the issue. But she turned the van off and hopped out, landing with a hiss, her wounds stinging from the movement.

Margo groaned loudly, not looking forward to digging a grave for the Wendigo. And what about the chupacabra? As she walked 'round to the back of the van and opened up the doors to grab one of the four shovels she kept in the back, Margo considered her options before landing on the easiest one.

"We'll take the chupacabra to my friend, she can use the parts. We gotta dismember the wendigo and bury the pieces separately." She directed, grabbing a chainsaw and leaning the shovel on the van, "You start digging and I'll do the dismembering." Margo walked a few feet down to the end of the gravel driveway and turned on an old light. The light was blue, and gentle, but lit the area well enough. The space, now illuminated, was outside the fence where people's loved ones were buried, and a few yards away. There were two fresh graves, and dozens of old ones.

In the short distance, a blue light in the window of the church's rectory was lit in recognition of the light Margo had turned on.
 
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Evan hated manual labor. Running, doing the training course for the police department— hell, even push ups weren't that bad compared to the physicality of dirty work. Literally dirty this time, as Evan groaned and took the shovel from Margo, anticipating the absolute worst. And he'd be correct in that assumption.

It took nigh an hour for the two of them to finish; Evan dug six holes of varying size and depth, scattered throughout the small portion of Margo's hallowed ground. He had to redo a few of them, too skinny or too shallow and the wendigo would have the potential to reanimate, so Evan dug deeper, into the earth and into his own heart.

Margo was done sooner and he knew the macabre sound of mechanical teeth through flesh would haunt his dreams for years to come. The blood splattered against her did little to settle his nerves either, but it was at least tolerable. Manageable.

"What do we do now," Evan grumbled, half dead on his feet— his sternum ached something fierce, especially after all the digging, but more importantly was the fact Evan hadn't slept in a long while, having pulled a double before joining Margo's department. "Do we need to do anything to this before taking it to your friend?"
 
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Margo would've been comfortable to sleep right there in the dirt, but the need to have the job finished and make sure she and Evan had their injuries tended to was far greater than the need to sleep. Sleep never came easy to her anyways. She preferred being awake, that way she could be ready at a moment's noticed if anyone needed a critter killed.

Margo slowly laid down in the muddy dirt, just to take a breather. She herself was covered in dried blood, grime, and dirt. It took her a moment to respond to Evan, as she waited for her heart rate to finally slow down after pushing her body so hard. This was her least favorite part of her job, but it was one of the most important. And it never got easier, either.

"I think if I didn't have you here to help, I'd've been tired enough to take a nap right here in the mud, n' use the wendigo's sternum as a pillow." She joked, snickering, "And nah, we can leave the chupacabra as is, she ain't picky about what condition I bring the bodies in. Next thing on the agenda, though, is actually gettin' out to her place. It's a little far, bout thirty minutes to the north if I break speed laws- but since you're a lawyer, I'm sure you can sweet talk me out of a ticket, right?" She grinned, and with a grunt and a quiet hiss of pain, Margo pushed herself back to her feet, using the shovel for some assistance.

She walked over to the blue light, the hue reflecting in her pupils, and turned it off. The other blue light in the window over yonder blinked twice before going out.

"You can take a nap on the way, but if you're cool, you'll stay awake so that I can stay awake by talkin' yer head off. Sound like a deal, partner?" Margo stepped over to Evan, grabbing his shovel so that she could toss it into the back of the van.

Heading to the driver side door, Margo caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror, and she moved to wipe her dirty face with the sleeve of her coat, but just ended up wiping blood across her cheek instead.

"Oop- Maybe she'll let us use her river to clean up, otherwise we'll be out n' about lookin like Bonnie and Clyde!" She snorted and laughed at her own half-assed joke, and climbed up into the van, waiting to peel out of the cemetery until Evan was inside and settled.
 
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Evan climbed in slowly, every muscle joint and sinew screaming in protest. He'd been up now how long? Evan hesitated, halfway into the S.I.D. van, and realized it was well over thirty-something hours. It was like being back in college, trying to put all-nighters back to back to back again, just to make sure his weekend was free so he could go visit Ange. He slid in, uncomfortable now that the blood had dried and caked in places he wasn't used to having anything caked upon. He scratched his arm and dried flakes of blood fell to the floor. Evan tried not to gag at the sight.

"Water sounds nice. To drink, to bathe, don't really much care which."

He didn't hear the engine roar to life— perhaps he'd fallen asleep the moment he buckled himself in —but Margo hit a bump in the road and Evan shot up, wincing and clutching his sternum. It ached more than it should, seeing as everything ached and still his chest roared. Despite the bumps, he placed his forehead against the cool glass of the window beside him and stared. This far out in the country the stars were alive and vibrant, pinpricks growing ever closer...

"What's that smell?" Evan asked after another ten minutes, the stench growing unbearable. He cracked the window despite the rain picking up once again, thankful for the sliver of fresh air. "You didn't fart, did you?"
 
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Margo almost hit the brakes, but kept driving, turning her head to stare at Evan, mouth agape.

"Evan Wyrwood!" She hollered, "How dare you accuse me of farting! I don't know you well enough!"

With a huff, Margo took one hand off the steering wheel to point it accusingly at Evan, "I bet it was you that farted n' you're just too prissy to admit it! Well I've got news for you, sir, but rich boys fart too! All the time! No need to be embarrassed, except for when you fart in the presence of your new boss!"

Margo sniffed the air, and it was indeed rancid, but she knew damn well that it wasn't her fault.

"Man, I'm gonna call the cops on you for farting in my van. Can't believe you'd say some wild shit like that! Imagine accusing Margo Warren of farting! It's unheard of!" She pulled her phone out, ready to dial 9-1-1, but instead used it as a pointer directed at Evan, "I could cut your pay! Or...or, uh, or demote you!" The smallest of grins cracked through Margo's struggling expression of seriousness, the corner of her lips ticking upwards ever so slightly. She didn't want to admit it, but the accusation was funny, and it'd taken her fully by surprise. And in her heart of hearts, Margo Warren wouldn't ever be able to demote Evan or cut his pay- but it was a fun threat to hold over him, jokingly.
 
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