Creature City

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Cecilia noticed the furrow of Jet's brow as she glanced at her phone and nodded in understanding.
"Is it anything you can talk about?" she said, standing and leaving her food half finished – she could see her friend wanted to get back as fast as possible. Altair stood, too, ruffling his wings and preening the elegant feathers on his breastbone with a golden-yellow beak.
 
Jet shrugged as she stood. "It doesn't seem there are any details. There's been a commotion over by where my biggest business partner works- I think it may concern the child." She made brisk work of walking out of the restaurant, but not before passing by the table the newcomers were at and tossing the card in front of the Araneae. She ensured it read as follows;
Jet, information dealer of the middle district.
You have a case, I want in.
Don't try finding me- I'll find you easily enough. Leave a sign of confirmation.
I have eyes everywhere.​
With that, she left the restaurant, making sure her friend was following. She hoped she could get in on this case. It would reveal information about the Araneae, and a certain man, whoever it was. If he was a threat to them, he could become a threat to the city. She may need to call a favour.​
 
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The hyena eats his food relatively quickly, whereas Minerva mills over hers, picking at it with her fork every so often. She wasn't particularly hungry, she'd eaten two days ago and was still full from her last meal. This was a common trait shared with the Araneae as they tended not to eat very often, preferring to conserve energy until they needed food. The Hyanids, however, were not picky. Any food offered was a bonus, and was taken with gratitude.
They stand up to leave, Minerva's view of her companion obscured as a pair of jet black wings pass her, and a hand casually drops a piece of folded paper on their table. The hyena unfolds it, frowning and covering the cost of their meal with a few notes and a tip on the side. "What is it?"
The male says nothing, and exits the restaurant with the spider trailing behind him. She stops when she passes a particularly cute girl upon her leave, fit with impressive looking antlers and covered in warm looking fur. The spider waves, flashing fangs and stopping briefly to say something, before she was tugged along by the hyena.
 
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Cecilia followed with Altair at her heels, shying away from the table where the Araneae and Hyanid sat. She admired how Jet could so easily approach them and flick a business card onto the table so casually, as if they weren't shadows of creatures waiting to strike. She had been taught to fear the lesser creatures, while Jet had learned how to master them.
"I see," she said as they stepped out into the fading warmth of the dusk. "You go the quickest way – Altair will keep me safe."
 
Jet nodded, already settling the dark grey shadowy material of her cloak around her shoulders. "I'll make sure to update you the next time we meet. Take care heading home. And remember-" She turned to them, emerald eyes regarding both of them with a deadly serious gaze. "-do not mention my new charge. By all means, talk about Alexis, but you must give no hints I'm harbouring another. If anyone asks, tell them the human was caught and taken away. If that can get spread around to the lower sectors, ensure it happens. We need to keep this one safe until we figure out exactly how it got here."
And just like that, she was gone, a shadow darting through the streets and onto the rooftops, before making a beeline to the south, and to home.
 
They both leave, and the hyena unfolds the paper so the spider can see. She reads it aloud, murmuring under her breath as she leans over his shoulder. "You get a good look at who dropped the paper?" The hyena shook his head. "Happened too fast." They both stand puzzling over the words, standing outside the restaurant against the brick wall. "Seems pretty interesting. Reckon we should take the offer?" The spider shrugs, and rubs her hands together in the cold.
The hyena drapes his jacket over her shoulders and they walk back to their loveless homes together, the spider commenting plainly about the weather, and her companion agreeing.
 
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Cecilia watched Jet seem to disappear into the darkness, then pulled her furs more tightly around her bony body and began to walk home. Altair padded beside her, his head held high and wings fanned across his back – his shoulders came up to Cecilia's waist when he was standing. He looked back with fondness on the days when she was a tiny, bumbling toddler and he'd been a halfling, still young but larger than her. They'd both been so full of life, so ready to play; he'd lost count of the amount of times she had climbed onto his back, chubby child's arms wrapped around his neck, and the two had galloped through the acres of woodland the Aster-Pitches owned. Cecilia was remembering this, too – there was a river, she recalled, and Altair would leap over it, spreading his wings so they made it safely to the other side. Across the water there was a willow tree, enormous, with thick, low branches to climb. She recalled scrambling up and edging across the outer arms of the tree which hung over the river – from this position, she could see the silver fish beneath the glassy surface.
"Lia! Come help me build a shelter!" the voice is lost to her but she remembers what it says, and she knows that a boy with red hair said it to her. He was bigger than her, and so was his Griffin – Kas, he called her. She couldn't remember the magnificent creature's full name. Of course, she knew his.
"Jacobus Samandriel Aster-Pitch," she murmured beneath her breath, her words catching as a white, smoky puff in the frozen air. The house loomed over the two of them and floodlights illuminated the girl and her guard. Her memories of her brother were fragmented at best – just snippets of them playing in the woods together. She couldn't even remember his face or how he sounded when he laughed – after all, she'd only been four when he had died. All she saw in her mind's eye was a boy with red hair who smiled a lot. Red hair like their mother; she could always remember that face. How could she forget it? Her mother was the Sun, the centre of tiny Lia's universe. Her mother was intelligent and passionate and far too awe-inspiringly wild to settle into the perpetual calm of the Aster-Pitch household – her father and mother had married because it kept the bloodline pure, and nothing more. There was no love there. Not that her father was a bad man. He was sensible, and cared about his daughter, but he was distant. Lia could tell he wanted an heir, and his only son was lying in a cold grave.
Of course she'd heard the rumours. How couldn't she? It was her brother, after all. They said, in the shadows, that Jacobus Aster-Pitch had not died of sickness. Some said he was murdered, some said he was kidnapped, some said he was thrown out onto the streets. Some even said he was still around today; the Pitch Heir they called him. Which, naturally, made her the Pitch Heiress. She wasn't sure if she liked that title.
Altair tapped Cecilia's hand with his beak softly, watching her glassy brown eyes widen and narrow as she went through her thoughts. She glanced down at him, smiled with an unconditional kind of affection, and knocked on the door of the manor to be let in.
 
Minerva remembers a time when things were simple. She's walking with Vince now, and his breath comes out in cold puffs of air as she shoves her hands deep into his jacket pockets. The jacket's too big for her and she wants to give it back, but it was a kind enough offer and she'll have to take it. She breathes in the comforting smell of smoke ingrained into the hyena's jacket, a faint mixture of tobacco and nicotine.
It brings her back to a memory from when she was small, when she would sit on the floor cross-legged and play board games with her siblings to pass the time. It would always end in tears, with someone throwing the pieces, loosing them all by scattering them in frustration, but she liked to play nevertheless. The memory's blurry, and more often than not when she played she lost the game and cried until her cheeks would grow crimson and her palms would have marks where she had dug her fingernails in. It's something of a fond memory to her now. She doesn't know why. Perhaps it's because losing was such an unbelievably terrible prospect to her, and winning was so deadly important to everyone that it was all the children wanted at that point in time. They didn't have to think about the state their world was in, or even consider the fact that in the kitchen their mother was nursing her post-fight black eye, concealing it with make-up desperately, or the fact that their father was sitting alone in his study, static in his ears and a growl in his throat.
Abner would always cause chaos by cheating, or claiming others had cheated, and the others, Charlie and Hector would encourage each other not to play fairly and provoke their brothers and sister into shouts and fights.
"No fair! Ma! She's cheating!" Abner would clutch the dice, holding it up high over Hector's head so he couldn't reach it.
Minerva would puff her cheeks out in response, and kick her scrawny legs, placing her hands on her hips in indignation. "Am not! Ma! Don't listen to him! He's the one who's cheating!"
Then, as if on cue, Charlie would grab the board and throw it so hard it slammed against the wall and silenced everyone.
She smiles now, something of a bittersweet smile, thinking of her mother and the things she did for her children.
 
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Jet landed effortlessly, sweeping through the front door and up to her living space with a calmness that chilled the air. She headed up the secret stairs and pushed into their little apartment.
"We've received reports from Azur, miss." Galzra said as Jet moved to her desk. Galzra stood in front of it. "Jack's mobilised his best men to find that child. What are we gonna do?"
Jet sighed, leaning back in her chair. "We protect them. We will all be sworn to secrecy. If any of us are questioned, we state I had reports from the city guard of a human child who wandered into their care. We make it appear they are dead." Hopefully in time they would be able to find a way to hide Annabeth- disguise them as a real creature. It helped that they had unusually coloured hair, as otherwise they would've been caught out almost immediately. "Galzra, we may have another case on our hands."
"Yes ma'am?"
"The Araneae may be being targeted. I received a hint of it today. Azur will keep an eye on things on Jack's end, and make sure they don't find Annabeth. You will hunt down this Araneae I left a message for. Check that she's left a message, and report to me if she has." She looked up at him from under a black fringe, a movement that would normally be cute or seductive, but in her case sent a shiver of fear down her client's spines. "Do not return before sunrise. We give her as much time as possible. If you are not home by sunrise I will have to send Alexis out after you."

Galzra nodded, standing a little straighter at the mention of the child. Alexis was personally trained by Jet, and gods if she wasn't scary, especially for her size and age. She wore the shadows like a second skin- as any good assassin should, but it was even scarier when you considered just how well she did it. Whereas most could still get spotted if you knew what to look for, Alexis had a way with the shadows that kept her completely hidden. It was almost like she became a shadow herself. Not to mention she could bury a dagger in a man's back with alarming precision and speed. Often they were dead before they hit the ground, although Jet insisted that she didn't do much killing. Alexis mostly handled the fetching missions, and so far there had not been a case where the victim hadn't come back, either alive or unconscious. She never brought back a dead victim. The ten-year-old was intimidating enough to scare even Azur into submission when brought into the equation. For Galzra, whose nerves were a lot less steeled than his partner's, so much as the mention of Alexis on a mission made his blood turn to ice.
"Yes ma'am!" he chanted all too quickly. He bowed and hurried to the door, only stopping to clumsily bow to her again before leaving.
Jet let out a soft chuckle as she padded to her room. Despite the fact they were basically a family, Galzra still treated her like his boss sometimes. He did have reason to, she thought as she pushed the door to her en-suite open and headed inside. She pushed them perhaps a little more than she ought to. But she knew what it was like to grow up, poor and with no motivation to do anything because there was nothing to do. Being kept busy with cases every few nights did the boys good, she knew. Her childhood hadn't been pleasant- from a young age she'd been forced to work for essentially every penny the family earned, which went to her mother's rapidly growing drinking obsession and her father's medicine. She'd had to mostly steal food for herself. It was why she was so good. She wouldn't be where she was now if she'd gotten caught. Sighing to shake the horrible memories of growing up out of her head, she washed off the makeup from tonight's outing, and stared at herself in the mirror.
It was no lie she was at least somewhat attractive. Emerald-green eyes stared out at her from pale skin, her face framed by wavy jet-black hair hanging just past the base of her ribcage and a fringe that stopped a small way above her eyebrows. Two tattoos framed her eyes, a thick black line from each going down like a pointed, very stretched oval. Her lips were a pale pink, but still fairly suitable. Her black, feathered wings were kept in pristine condition, almost shining, although she supposed that was in part due to the steel reinforcing on the bones.
It was amazing what a simple spell could do.
A sigh slipped past her lips. Normally she would wear black mascara, and a darker shade of red on the lips, but it was the end of the day and she couldn't be bothered to reapply until tomorrow. She slipped out of her room, dressed in a silk black nightdress- one of her favourites- and headed over to her bed.
 
Vince sees her to her apartment and she gives him back his coat, ducking into her place of living with a wave.
She closes her door and sits against it for a moment, staring at the crumpled sheet of paper in her hands. "Jet." She murmurs, and frowns. It says don't contact them, but how the fuck am I supposed to say I'm interested? She chews on a fingernail, unsure for a moment. Then, she decides if this mysterious person's eyes are everywhere, then she might as well leave a blatant enough sign somewhere.
 
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Dominic and Roman pile into their small economy car, closing the doors shut behind them. The harpie turns the heating dials, trying to warm up the interior and shifting his legs so his knees don't cramp up against the dashboard. The other shoves a turquoise wing out the way, jostling into his seat and placing his hands on the steering wheel.
They drive across gravel path in silence, something Dominic feels he needs to fill by turning the radio on and flicking through stations. His companion drives in quiet, saying nothing about the harpie's incessant need to stimulate his senses with something or other. Music, conversation, food... He moves swiftly from one thing to another, as if the idea of being bored or sitting in silence would kill him.
"Hey. So. What are your thoughts on the kid?" It's a direct question, and Roman realises it's one of those rare moments where he has to respond to the harpie. Usually, Dominic was content to fill in conversation by himself, voicing his thoughts out loud and hardly noticing when his partner didn't respond.
"We find the kid. We hand the fleshbag over to Chief. What about it?" His voice is gruff, and he has to speak up because the techno pop music Dominic has chosen to listen to is hard to think in. He doesn't turn it off, because that would result in another argument, involving aggressively fluffed feathers and angry words.
"Well, it just sounds... Complex is all. The kid's human right? That's what makes them so valuable. But how the hell did it slip last security and end up in our part of the city? You would have thought law enforcement would have intervened by now." The feathered creature muses aloud, smoothing blue and green feathers with a talon.
 
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Azur stumbled in, slumping into a seat at the kitchen table. He'd been working hard, and it was certainly a relief for him to return home. Annabeth hopped into his lap almost automatically, silently demanding to play. With a tired smile, he began to tickle the child, causing them to wriggle and laugh. It crossed his mind briefly he didn't know what creature the child was. His hands slowed to a stop, resting instead on their head as he considered. Their cheeks puffed out in a pout, and they raised an arm to boop his nose. He chuckled, but a flash caught his eye. Looking at the child's wrist, he noticed a bracelet sat upon it. It looked like two jet-black snakes, twining around each other for the heads to meet at one point and form a definable end. The scales shined in the light, and he wondered how he hadn't noticed it before. The snakes had two orange gems in their eyesockets, glowing like fire as the light flickered over them. He raised an eyebrow as Annabeth pulled it back defensively, holding the wrist containing the bracelet tightly to their chest as they pouted. He chuckled, and ruffled their hair, although he made a mental note to let Jet know when he next saw her.
 
Roman says nothing, attention firmly on the road as Dominic hums a tune, tapping his claws on the dashboard.
"Weather's getting cold." The Harpy comments, staring out of the passenger window. "Would be nice if Chief sent us somewhere tropical once in a while." He laughs, shaking his head. Where Dominic was from, there was an abundance of sandy beaches and palm trees, and the Harpies nesting there had thin colourful feathers, for all they had to worry about was how to spend their time and which luxury they should entertain themselves with next. Roman had called it a city of hedonists, but it was familiar to the Harpy, and to think about home was often a comfort in this harsh weather.
Roman on the other hand, was fully equipped to deal with the cold, thick warm fur covering his body. He was a Jackalope after all, and everything about him suited this kind of weather.
Dominic had initially laughed when he was told his assigned partner was going to be a Jackalope, expecting some small rabbit with horns to hop along and greet him with a twitch of his white fluffy tail, but he remembers his laughter had instantly ceased when he actually got a glimpse of his partner. The guy's appearance gave off an intimidating aura, his grim expression and his body language telling his sceptical companion everything he needed to know with a glance.
Now, Dominic liked to think they had grown close enough over the years not to judge each other based on words and appearances, but he was never sure what Roman really thought of him anyway.
He opens and closes the glovebox, and shifts in his seat, extending a wing and accidentally clapping Roman on the shoulder with it. "Ah shit, sorry. I'm just- This car is so small, y'know?"

((Oh my god I was just editing my stuff and accidentally got rid of my last couple of paragraphs by freaking accident. Plus, now since I hadn't saved it I can't get it back! Major frustration over here guys. XD))
 
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Jack's half-lidded eyes watched the fire die, leaving softly glowing embers in its wake. The golden evening had passed, giving way to a dark night, and cloud-muted moonlight pooled on the bare wood panels of the living room floor. Some of it caught in Arrow's hair and illuminated his bronze chest as it rose and fell like the tide, the boy himself curled up on top of Jack like a fieldmouse in its nest. His body was scalding hot and the Wendigo could feel the heat of it through his many layers – Arrow murmured something incoherent into Jack's neck as he shifted in his sleep, his grip on Jack's hand tightening. The movie had long since finished and the laptop sat quietly on the arm of the sofa; Arrow had fallen asleep near the end and looked too blissfully happy in slumber to move. In Jack's free hand, a Blackberry lit up with new messages that its owner read in silence.
From: Fang
Dominic and Roman on move. Got some others in too.
From: Fang
Rumours confirmed. Bloodsack's definitely in city.
From: Fang
Got reports that Jet's onto us.
Jack sighed into Arrow's hair at the last one and typed a response, biting his lip to stifle a yawn.
To: Fang
Just find out what she knows. She is no enemy of mine. I expected her to find out anyway – she's as clever as they come.
Moments later, a buzz signalled a reply.
From: Fang
Roger that, Chief.
The hybrid boy shifted on his lap, knees drawn up to his chest and face buried in the comfort of Jack's shoulder. His ankles hooked around one of Jack's calves so their legs were tangled together and the Wendigo smiled in his domestic bliss. By the dying fire, Kastra lay stretched out, letting out the slightest snore. He remembered how comforted he was by those snuffling noises when he had first been kicked onto the streets – Kastra was all he had. When night fell and exhaustion finally overcame them, the Griffin would drape herself around the boy and wrap him in her wings, and her gentle snores would lull him to sleep in the shadows of some frozen alleyway. It stung to think of her wings, those magnificent trademarks of power that had sheltered him from wind and rain – he looked at the blackened scars that ripped down her back and pressed closer to Arrow in his sadness. She had let vampires tear them out so Jack could eat; that was one of the conditions of the nest.
You can stay with us, kid, but we've got conditions. You let us take your pretty Griffin's wings, 'cause they sell for bloody loads, and you saw off those ugly antlers. We can't have anyone finding out we're harbouring a bloody Wendigo. From now on, boy, you tell 'em you're a vamp like us. Got it?
He had known even then, at eight years old, that they weren't doing it out of the goodness of their hearts. His nest took him in because he was useful – they drained human bodies of blood, but then they had evidence of their kill. What could be better than having a hungry Wendigo to clean up the mess? It was a good system, and Jack was fed and had a roof over his head, but he still felt sickening guilt every time his gaze caught on those scars. Kastra had done so much for him and all he could give her in return was a tiny flat and a Nix boy to keep her company while he was away.
He hadn't stayed with the nest for longer than necessary – it was a dangerous place to be. The vampires were constantly brawling with other nests and scrapping violently over food; they raised him as one of their own, so he was expected to join in. He remembered the relief that overcame him when he could finally leave them, safe in the knowledge that the ogre who owned The Dragon's Head pub would employ him. Since abandoning them at fourteen, he'd never once been back, and if he saw members of his nest, he hardly acknowledged them. They had not loved him, so he didn't see why he should make the effort now. He still lived under the pretence of being a vampire – even Arrow thought that was what he was. It pained him more than he cared to admit that he had to lie, but if anyone found out he was part of the Aster-Pitches – well. There was no use in troubling himself with those thoughts.
He always avoided the centre of the city where he knew the manor stood, tall and ornate and imposing. Behind its iron gates were too many memories he'd rather forget, too many faces he wished he could burn from his mind. His father who had loved him so much, who had shown him all the glamour of aristocracy and promised him the world when he was old enough. His mother, so vivid and wild, who let him scramble onto her knee and read him stories. His sister, delicate as a white rose, whose hair was like milk and flew like spiders' silk behind her as she ran through the woods to catch up with him. Jack missed her the most.
"Hey," a sleepy voice murmured, and Arrow lifted his head slightly. "You okay?" It was only now Jack realised his blue eyes (originally a rich brown like his sister's, but he'd had them painfully lasered because vampires had pale eyes) were filmed with tears and there was a lump in his throat. Arrow would sleep through an earthquake, but somehow sensed when the Wendigo was upset.
"It's nothing," Jack assured him in soft whispers. "Just… remembering." Arrow nodded in understanding – he had no clue how Jack had come to be in this situation and didn't press the issue, knowing some things were better left unsaid. Hell, it wasn't like he didn't have secrets of his own.
"It's okay," Arrow's eyes were heavy with sleep and he was already melting back into it. "You're safe now. I love you." Jack blinked his tears away, a single moonlit drop leaving a glowing trail down his cheek.
"I love you, too."
 
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Come to think of it, Roman was much more like a bear. The Jackalope was not small or even remotely rabbit-like when they had met, which had surprised the Harpy greatly. In their first few weeks of employment together, Dominic had despaired at the lack of conversation, bored and pent-up with no one to speak to about it. For a while, he had honestly thought the Jackalope lacked the voice to speak, or perhaps was deaf to his words. It was only on their third week together, had the Jackalope actually spoke to him.
The Harpy had come in from a mission with a bleeding wound, stumbling through the door and whining in pain as he pressed a claw to his shoulder. Roman had looked up, eyes dim and quiet.
"Sit." He'd rumbled, and the winged creature had stopped in his tracks to stare in amazement. Dominic blinked, playing the word over and over in his head. Sit sit sit. So he did. He sat in front of the blaring TV, and his partner had got up to find a first aid kit from the cabinet. He'd produced a needle and thread and a roll of bandages from the small red box, and had began treating the injury with deft hands. Throughout the duration of a painful stitching and a stinging disinfectant, there were no words of reassurances, just an irritating silence between them.

They pulled up to the sight the human had been originally spotted, Roman cutting the engine and stepping out of the car with a plain expression. Dominic did the same, spreading cramped legs and feathers with a shrug of his shoulders. They both made their way over to the small alleyway, only to hear murmuring voices. The Jackalope produced a gun, stepping forwards with menacing purpose. The other ran along to catch up.
"Yeah. Exactly, Min. We find the kid, and split the money it sells for on the black market between us." There's another murmur, and a cry of feigned outrage. "No, I'm not motivated on this entirely because I need the money for drugs, Minerva! Frankly, I'm shocked you'd assume that of me."
Dominic stepped into view only to see two Araneae in their spot to look for the kid. "You won't have any chance of that happening, because we're already looking for the meatbag!" The Harpy's laugh alerted the two spiders to his presence, and the male arachnid narrowed his paranoid eyes. Roman cocks his gun, legs spread in a threatening stance.
"We came here first fellas, so fuck off!" Abner calls, replying instantly and without any thought for the consequence of doing so, motioning with all six of his hands as Minerva quietly assessed the situation.
"Well, here's the thing. My name is Dominic Dachtler, and this is my associate, Roman Willowby. We both work for the same guy. And right now, our top priority is finding the kid before anyone else does, understand? And it's very, very important that we do so. So how about you guys back off, and leave without getting hurt. Because this is our land. By all means, look for the kid elsewhere though." He offers a smile, but Abner flips the Harpy and his partner off, going back to speaking to Minerva.
"Get me Chief on the phone."
 
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It was some ridiculously early hour of the morning when a mechanical buzzing stirred Jack from sleep – he'd managed to drift off with his arms wrapped around Arrow, the two of them too groggy to bother moving from the sofa. Shifting and sitting up, he dug his phone out of his pocket and stood, rubbing sleep from his eyes and coughing it out of his throat.
INCOMING CALL FROM: Roman
Kastra had woken and curled into a sitting position, looking up quizzically at her blood-brother, and Arrow's sleepy voice made him turn, thumb poised over the ANSWER button.
"Is everything okay?" he asked, running a hand through thick, raven hair.
"Yeah, it's just a colleague," Jack reassured him. "I'm sorry, love, but I really have to take this."
"Mm," Arrow offered a groggy smile and flexed his fingers – the fire in the hearth burst into life, throwing new heat across the room. He stood up, stretched his muscled body, and wrapped his arms around Jack's waist, resting his cheek on the Wendigo's icy shoulder blade. Jack lifted the phone to his ear; his voice was alert, harsh and questioning.
"Roman. What can I do for you?"
 
"Chief." The Harpy wrestles the phone from his partner, "We have a problem." Abner looks up momentarily, and narrows his eyes at the two standing in close proximity of his sister. Minerva moves over to the Jackalope, and he adjusts his grip on the gun, stone-faced and ready to shoot when his partner gives the order.
"Turns out, there are more people than we thought who are out looking for the kid. Even now, there's two... Araneae in our place. Somebody told us a while back that there's some lady who can offer us information and locations to start on, because the last thing I want right now is two bodies on my hands. Now, usually I'd leave it, but these are special circumstances and I need a contact number. A lady named... Jet. I think. Fang doesn't seem to know where I can find her, so he told me to ask you."
 
Jack's free hand settled itself over Arrow's as he spoke coolly into the Blackberry. He reeled off a phone number without hesitation – it was a business number he and Jet had agreed could be passed around if someone needed them, but it wasn't her personal number.
"She'll pick up, she always does," he assured his men with a sharp-toothed smile, the blazing fire in the nearby hearth casting a yellow glow over his waxy grey skin.
"Try not to kill the Araneae," he added with a cocked eyebrow they couldn't see. "They'll be no threat to us – just leave them be. Of course, if they attack you first…" He felt Arrow's muscles tense around his waist; the half-demon hated talk of unnessecary violence where Jack viewed it cynically. "Don't get too much blood on your hands, boys. Anything else I can do for you?"
 
"That'll be all for us, Chief!" Dominic says brightly, scribbling the number down on a pad of paper. "Thanks." He clicks the phone off.
Minerva warily eyes the Harpy and his partner, waiting for them to say something. "Oh, Roman. Chief says don't kill the arachnids. They're harmless apparently." The Jackalope lowers his gun, and the Harpy smiles.
"Well. Best get going." Abner tilts his head, arms folded over his chest as the two walk off.
"That was weird." Minerva frowns. "I thought our kind were the only ones who knew about the kid."

"Call the contact." Roman says in a low rumble, alerting the Harpy to the fact that he'd been listening to the phone call. Dominic claps his partner on the back, and grins, feathers ruffled. "Relax, man. We have time. First, let's get something to eat. I'm starving."
The Jackalope shakes his head in the Harpy's peripheral, and they load into the car again. "We'll look around when the spiders leave, alright?" His comment is met with silence, and for a moment Roman's dark brown eyes meet his. Dominic avoids his gaze, and fixes his eyes on the steering wheel, drumming his fingers on the dashboard. A long minute passes between them.
"You gonna start the car, or what?"
The engine sputters to life, and the Harpy leans forward, messing with the heat settings again.
 
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Jack heard a mechanical click that signalled the end of the phone call and slipped his Blackberry back into his pocket with a smirk, turning himself in Arrow's arms to face the smaller creature, whose features were twisted into a pout.
"I don't like it when you talk like that," he said softly, defeatedly, stepping back a little. Jack closed the space again.
"I'm sorry, love," he murmured, his mouth at Arrow's ear. "It's just how I have to work." The Wendigo felt no real regret at how carelessly he had spoken of the Araneae's lives – living on the streets taught you how to be ruthless. He was glad Arrow never saw the real darkness he harboured, the real beast he often unleashed. Unlike him, the Nix boy was gentle, and trusting, and loving. He too had grown up in the shadows of the city but with a kind parent to guide him and with a heart held open instead of slammed shut and left to rot. In this, Jack almost envied him.
"Come on, I'll get an ache in my neck if we stay all night on the sofa," he said, pressing feathery kisses to Arrow's burning bronze jaw. He felt the half-phoenix melt under his ghosting touches.
"All right," he whispered, burying his face momentarily in the comfort of Jack's scarlet curls before pulling back. "Will they call you back?"
"They might," he said thoughtfully, kneeling to bump foreheads with Kastra – a gesture of love passed between them since they were toddler and fledgeling, a sort of kiss. A sort of promise that said, I love you. When he stood, his icy blue gaze flickered over the blazing fire and across Arrow's tan chest. "Jet might. I won't wake you." Arrow could feel the familiar build; more calls, more of Jack turning into the stony Chief before his eyes. Soon he would leave and not come back for weeks. Arrow could feel the emptiness of it carving a hollow into his chest even though Jack had not yet left. The Wendigo tugged on his hand, leading him to their shared bedroom, and lifted Arrow's chin so their eyes met.
"Come on," he coaxed softly, knowing what upset him but not able to apologise for it. "Let's go, little flame." Jack hadn't called him that in a while, and Arrow's heart fluttered behind his ribs.
He's going to leave me again soon and we both know it, the Nix thought as they left the living room and travelled the ten paces to the bedroom (their flat really was tiny). I might as well make the most of him while he's here.
Jack paused by the bed, letting go of Arrow's hand to wriggle out of his jacket, and drew in an almost inaudible gasp as the half-phoenix's fingers ghosted along the sliver of grey skin that flashed over his bony hips as he discarded his clothes. He turned to Arrow, one eyebrow perfectly arched. Arrow smirked.
"Oh, you want to play that game?"
Yes because you're going to leave me and I love you and I don't want to sleep I just want you –
Jack's arms snaked outwards and pulled Arrow flush against him in an instant, his grin animalistic, and Arrow's fingers immediately went to the hem of the Wendigo's shirt to help him out of it while Jack wasted no time loosening the drawstring of Arrow's pyjama pants.
"I love you," Arrow said breathlessly, but it came out as more of a question. Jack only laughed and kissed him so they both overbalanced and fell onto the mattress in a heap of limbs and giggles.
 
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