Steffan waits for me down the stairs, I spy Tonic taking inventory of some of the repairs Verando had done while we'd been gone. Despite all the best efforts, replacing the floor had not been feasible in the time frame and I could almost imagine it was a sort of reminder to him. They polished it smooth, taking away the melted edges, but had filled in the slash with a sort of epoxy.

Shuddering, I can't help but touch my stomach as I slip into the kitchen, past Steffan who seems to be wondering if he should engage or not.

"I'm not mad at you." I finally mutter, though my tone suggests otherwise.

"You don't sound very convincing." Steffan retorts, sighing, crossing his arms over his chest as he paces towards me. Silent, another living statue, he taps his fingers lightly on his opposite arm as he chews his lower lip. The long black braid draped over his shoulder, tight and proper from a stressed strigoi braiding it to perfection. "I really am sorry."

Placing my hands on the counter, I consider lashing out, but I was beyond that at this point. I was mostly tired, overwhelmed by the thought of him being gone for two long months. We were beginning the next phase, living our lives, he would be expected to do normal 'human' things and a trip like this was to be expected. Even in our own time, he'd be gone for weeks at a time on training endeavors.

At least here I could call him, talk to him, and know he was alright.

"I know that the opium was his idea, Steffan."

My friend pulls his lips into a thin line. "So you're angry I lied to you? I can understand that."

Steffan had always been an eccentric person, someone who entertained and shared the space, who enjoyed being the yes man. I could see how he could reason with himself that giving Verando opium would be the best of both worlds. Immortals partook in things a human wouldn't understand, it was common knowledge that elves dabbled in all sorts of drugs and drinks, potions, and sexualities because they had eternity to overcome.

"I think I'm just worried. I don't know how to feel, I'm not myself right now, I understand the rules are different but... this feels like a decision I would have liked to be involved in. I know I'm a stick in the mud compared to you heathens but he is.. mine.. Steffan."

Washing my hands, I lightly test the magic on my skin, taking all my concentration to warm the water. "I don't like to be excluded when it comes to him."

Steffan leans against the counter, listening quietly, nodding slowly. "You certainly are becoming a lycan, aren't you? This is never I side of you that I imagined, it's still something I have to wrap my head around, that you aren't a young man uncertain and trying to survive. Sometimes I forget that despite all we've been through together. You know, you could talk to me more.. maybe I might know these things a bit better."

Since Verando had come along, we had come and gone like ships in the night. I ran off with the man who killed my family and Steffan dutifully followed as if it was a phase, only to realize how serious I'd become.

A flurry of thoughts rushes through my mind.

Anger. Resentment. Fear of rejection. Pain. Gratitude.

I finally settled on the simplest and that was acceptance. "I know," I tell him gently. "This is the phase of my life that I'm in right now, I can't promise that I'm going to be better instantly but I can promise that I will try like hell to do better. I need to not see everyone who gets near us as the enemy, it's a tough transition."

Steffan scoffs, shrugging one shoulder, "Well we're all a bit war-torn, I've got the younger version, I have no need for your man, not that he'd even give anyone else a glance."

There was a time when that wasn't true, at least, he was willing to act on such a thing. With my body now even more broken than it was before, I was feeling vulnerable and exposed. My hand instinctively covers my cuff and I force a small smile, not to be missed by Steffan as he touches my shoulder. "Why don't we have a day out? Just the two of us? Have you been to your shop at all?"

I hadn't done anything but worry.

"My my, you really are a stick in the mud." Steffan sighs, breaking my mask and making me chuckle as I shake my head. "Well, maybe it's time to start. You can have a job, too, you know. You have Adriam who is chomping at the bit to get back over here and Verando will be gone, there's no reason why you can't get a little slice of yourself back."

The starry-eyed dream is almost lost on me as I run my hand through my hair, thick and dense, wanting to lay in its own disarray with little care for any of my suggestions. The thought of being covered in grease and grit, despite having been previously drenched in the blood of my enemies, feels like another layer of disinterest that would keep Verando at bay once he did return.

As quickly as it came, I dismissed it for the falsehood that it was. Verando was just on his knees, pleading for a taste of me, not hours ago.

"It has been a while since I've gone shopping." I allow, starting to pull out the chicken for processing. "It might be nice to get some new clothes."

"You could change your hairstyle, you've only had the same one for two hundred years... "

Narrowing my eyes, Steffan practically giggles. The commentary is welcomed though and I feel myself starting to relax despite how I felt about the potential for drug use returning to the man I loved so dearly. My mind immediately jumped to wanting to discuss the potential risks with Adriam, who seemed to almost be avoiding me since I was no longer pregnant.

I was stuck in limbo, wanting desperately to get back to where I was, and also never wanting to explore such a painful part of my life ever again. Losing another would break me, and yet the thought of not using this gift was enough to push me over the edge.

Now he'd be gone for 2 months, and my options would be very limited as far as getting to speak with him about the possibility of trying again.

Verando hadn't been comfortable with it in the first place, and while I wasn't worried he'd tell me no, I did wonder if he could manage to avoid me for any fertile windows.

"Any word from Tomas and Rowan?" I sigh, changing the subject.

"Tomas and Leo are running recon on some investors, last I heard. Your husband isn't very forthcoming, they're keeping an eye on Haebom and Tucci. The dragon seems as kind as he can be, odd as that is considering what we know of the beasts, but Tucci is well aware of the fact he's being watched."

I can't help but smirk, so my husband wasn't entirely retired from the warlord business.

"Rowan is helping to arrange the instructors for the school, you know, that would be a wonderful job for you to do, as well. Considering you were at the worst school ever to be created, you would know firsthand how a teacher can ruin an experience."

"Instructors, hmm?" We had an arsenal of good users, but that didn't mean they would be good teachers. "I'll talk to Randy about it."

Steffan watches me curiously, "You know, you could teach?"

My track record so far hasn't been great. I had managed to somewhat teach Tyler and offered advice to Pascal, but my technique was lacking when it came to my husband who, I considered, extremely trainable.

The strigoi taps lightly into his phone while I consider this, chopping vegetables, disappointed in my lack of aversions. I'd begun to miss the sensitivity, the cravings, everything felt like a dream now that it was all gone. "We're going out tomorrow, you've been trapped in this house for to long. Think of it as a lunch date, I'll have you back before your Lycan gets to lonesome."

_________________________________________________________

Verando's POV-

The warlord had opted to change out of the comfortable clothes as soon as I'd left the room. Much as he'd like to believe this would be a casual meeting, appearances had to be upheld. Returning to his suit, though opting to leave behind his jacket and go with suspenders instead, he went through the motions of attempting to locate Anubis.

For a god who wanted to be found, it was often difficult to track, so the easiest way thus far was waiting for the jackal to find him in a place of 'common ground'. They'd discovered a level of high traffic, an aged bridge overlooking the Tennessee River that had long since been out of use, the view was good, overlooking the city and only interrupted by the occasional barge passing underneath.

Long since slated to be torn down, it was a common place for people to go to escape their thoughts and to unfortunately cross over. Open, quiet, peaceful, he'd be lying if he said he didn't bring souls here for that very reason. It was becoming a hub for the dead, and Verando found himself uncertain if that was a positive or not.

Adjusting his watch, Verando stood on the edge of the sidewalk, watching over the railing at the twinkling river as the sun slowly began to set. It was quite beautiful really, the blue mountains rolling in the background, hazy with the chill. Pulling a cigarette out of the pack, he lights it, feeling the nagging of Fenrir in the back of his mind to remind him that he'd never truly be alone.

"No one's going to want a drug-addicted psychopath who can't keep his shit together."

Verando shudders at the distant voice.

Alpha whimpers, reminding him it'd been too long since he'd gone on a run. He needed to let the wolf out before he went on tour, there'd be little opportunity for a break.

"Jump then." Fenrir hisses. "Maybe it'll kill you."

The chain singes against his neck, the burn the only reminder that he was the one in control. Taking another drag, he sighed as he ran a hand through his hair, muttering that he was smoking way too much for anyone's liking.

Someone coughs, pulling him out of his musing. "Must you smoke here?"

It wasn't often anyone managed to sneak up on him with how hyper-sensitive he was these days. Cocking his head to the side, he sees a young man, only sixteen by the look of him.

"I thought I was alone." Verando retorts slowly, making the kid blink in surprise.

"Where are you from?" He asks quickly, turning to face the warlord as the gray-haired man spies a band t-shirt that displays Tiberius and his gang of misfits. Gasping, the youth covers his mouth, "Oh my gosh. Gray hair. English accent. You're- no, wait.. I'm not going to do this. I'm.. not a fan boy."

Verando flicks his cigarette onto the ground, crushing it out with his foot. "Sure you aren't. What are you doing out here all by yourself?"

The young man sports a blackened eye and a busted lip, his over sized hoodie swallowing his thinner body, his skinny jeans clinging to his legs, he looked the type to enjoy Tiberius's band.

"No reason." He retorts, stiff.

Verando pulls his lips into a thin line, wishing he hadn't wasted the end of his cigarette. The youth shifts, clenching and unclenching his hands, practically wriggling with repressed excitement, Verando can only sigh once more and relax his posture.

"Go ahead. Let it out."

The teen practically erupts, "I'm such a fan! Your story, your music, your broody behavior! I love it, all of it!"

"Broody?" Verando snaps, offended. "M'not broody. Bit rude to call someone broody...."

"Please say tuesday!" The teen quickly covers his mouth. "Sorry. It's a fan thing. Your accent. Broooody." He repeats with a giggle.

"Tuesday? For the love..." The excitement was somehow endearing, despite his desire to push the kid into the depths, he could appreciate the affliction. The youth reminded him of Reed in some ways, always and forever a fan. "You know, might not want to open with that next time... if you're trying not to be considered a fan."

A gentle breeze stirs the air, blowing the faint smell of an incoming barge past his nose. While the wind catches his own clothes, the clothes of the youth stay still, unmoving. It was about that time that Verando noticed that the clothes weren't dark in color but because they were damp.

The boy was soaked.

"What're you doing out here, kid?" Verando frowns, making the teen take a step back with a sigh.

"I'd say you wouldn't understand but.. maybe you would. You ever have anyone pick on you for your... preferences?"

Scoffing, the warlord considers this. "Hair color or husband?" He retorts, as lightly as he can manage, leaning on the railing as he crosses his arms over his chest. The air of impending doom was looming, there was only one reason the person was here.

The young man shrugs, holding onto himself. "I thought he was.. turns out he wasn't, at least not in public. The asshole told everyone in school, apparently, it's easier to say the queer kid touched you than to admit you might have liked-" Shaking his head, he rubs at his eyes quickly and takes a shakey sigh. "It's been a shitty couple of days. People suck."

Verando flinches, grumbling quietly to himself. "I'm sorry. I'd say there are a plethora of ways to deal with those individuals but none of them are legal."

It makes him laugh, the dark eyes glance up at the warlord with a small smile, "That's why I like your band.. and your interviews. You're really funny and you say the craziest shit. Nobody knows how to take you, then you cuddle with your husband on tv... it makes me feel like there is space for me somewhere, even if it's not here."

"What do you want to be when you grow up?" Verando asks, approaching stand beside the wet teen.

He gets quiet, staring over the dimming river. "I don't think about growing up. It doesn't fit the model, I don't want to get a shitty office job or go to a worthless college. I just want to be..." Embarrassed he holds himself a little tighter. "That's why I came out here. I don't understand why I'm put in a place that hates me, why I'm stuck living this life where I have to constantly hide who I am when I can't even help it. I didn't ask to be this way." With a sniffle, he sighs, only to take a slow breath.

"But.. I feel better now. I think I was supposed to meet you... to not do-" Hesitating, he stares at his drenched hoodie.

"I'm glad you feel better, Caden." Verando's voice is low, somber.

Caden looks up at him quickly. "I didn't tell you my name."

"You don't have to. Yes, you were meant to find me, because... you jumped."

Rushing to the railing, the youth glances down into the fluttering water, as if hoping to see evidence of this. "No.. I changed my mind. You helped me change my mind. I didn't-" Frowning, he looks at his hands once more, "What.. how? I'm talking to you! How am I-"

"I'm here to help you cross over. That is why I can see you, you're dead."

It's excruciating to go through this part of the job. To listen to the pleas, the sobbing, the remorse, and the lack of understanding of a soul who didn't want to die. A mistake, a simple mistake, and it was entirely irreversible.

Just when he thought the job couldn't get harder than a train full of injured, waiting for the individuals to take their last breaths and plead their goodbyes to their dead and dying friends and family. The job seemed to be interested in one-upping itself in the pain department.

All he could do was share the space and wait, allow the soul to go through the transition of pain and remorse, anger and denial, and then finally acceptance. To his surprise, very few ever tried to run when it came along in this instance. The only ones who ran were those who knew where they were going, the rest seemed to at least accept that there would be no escape.

"So what happens now?"

"I will collect you and take you to the afterlife."

"Like.. hell? Hell is real?" Caden would pale if he could, making Verando almost smile if it wasn't so somber.

"The gods aren't as evil as you'd like to think, they really don't tend to send the 'gays' to hell. You haven't killed anyone have you?"

Caden shakes his head quickly.

"Well, you should be fine. I'll put in a good word for you. I know a guy." Shrugging, Verando pulls the karambit out of his pocket. "Hold out your hand."

"So you're Death.. and a musician.. Death is gay?" Caden seems taken aback, "Why...?"

"Why am I gay?" Verando exhales, exasperated, only to realize the question is more toward his current job. "Everyone has a debt to pay, this is mine. Best job in the world, kid."

To both of their surprise, Caden starts to laugh. "You know.. if I didn't know any better, I'd say you almost looked like you were going to jump, too."

"Everyone has their demons. Hand."

Verando pulls off his glove as Caden extends his palm. "I'm glad it was you. It was a dream to get to meet you, somehow it seems a little better this way. Sent to where ever by one of your favorite musicians.. I don't suppose you'd let me say goodbye to my mom? Or tell me what it's like?"

"One-way ticket, I'm afraid. I'm not sure what's on the other side, go find out for me." Pricking the youth on his finger, he sighs at the boy disappears as quickly as he'd appeared.

The scent of the jackal fills his nose as he replaces the karambit and puts the glove back on.

"You're getting better at your job, but you're still slow. Good work on the train though, not a soul unaccounted for." Anubis tilts his head, regarding the warlord with mild curiosity. "You look like you have something to say."

"Nic got hurt."

"By you." Anubis retorts shortly.

"Your job was to protect him from anything, and that included me per our agreement. You had no issue trashing this body when you finally showed up, which means you were trying to get to me before anything happened. You fucked up."

"I didn't expect you to go feral and murder a bunch of civilians, I was cleaning up your mess."

Verando flashes his teeth, snarling low in his throat. "Don't dance around the issue with me, Jackal."

Lightning cracks across the sky, making the aged bridge groan in protest.

"Look at you commanding your surroundings. Death brings destruction, just as it heals lost souls.. so, Mr.Mercer, you seem like you have come here prepared with some sort of demands or else you wouldn't be looking at me with such malice. First I was Anubis.. now I'm just a lowly Jackal. Typical of a wolf to look down on the.. lessers..."

There was the strong desire to retaliate, to lash out and inflict pain on this 'god', but that option seemed null and void. There was no way he'd developed any skill strong enough to take back my soul, no way he could even put a dent in the power that was Anubis. But, he was a disciple and Anubis continued to feel the need to appease him.

This meant there were limits.

"We need to talk business," Verando tells him shortly.