When Azrael stepped around the corner, Hadrian and Letha were sitting on the edge of the window sill, their heads leaning on the glass. He blinked at them.

“Good evening.”

“No,” Letha corrected, her smile sickly sweet, “That would be an evening when we didn’t get busted looking in your window by your arty-farty…son, I’m assuming.”

Azrael nodded.

Hadrian dug his hands further into his pockets, “Technically it was only you who got caught.”

“Are we gonna do this now?” his sister snapped.

Biting down on a grin, the man waved his hand to recapture their attention, “Would you like to come in?”

Letha looked at her brother, weighing the situation; imminent death, or whatever awaited them inside. “Yeah. Thanks.”

As they trailed in after him, Azrael shot each of his family a stern look, a warning, his frown lingering on Cassie.

“I’ll behave,” she grumbled.

Letha wandered slowly around the corner, her eyes falling on Cassie and she clapped once, “Oh, look; an emotionally unstable cow!”

Gabe and Mickey snickered, and Cassie glared at Azrael, “I thought people usually take the trash out.”

The man winced, “I though you said you’d be nice.”

“Turns out I lied.”

Hadrian, standing behind his sister, met Mickey’s eyes and smiled. The boy grinned back, starting forward, but both girl’s shot glares his way.

“Woah! Bessie, Recycling,” he said, raising both hands, “White flag!”

He sidestepped both of them, scurrying over to Hadrian. Standing beside him, arms folded across his chest and legs shoulder width apart, he assessed the room.

“Hey man,” Mickey murmured, “How’s the battlefield look from here?”

The boy smiled, “Dangerous.”

“Deadly,” Mickey agreed.

“Daunting.” Scary

“Ooh, nice word,” he grimaced, “Accurate.”

Gabe leant across to Azrael, scratching his beard, “I can’t tell whether he’s brave or stupid to cross both of them.”

Suddenly tired, the other man stepped forward, “If you’re all quite finished arguing and mocking, perhaps I could ask a question.” With all eyes on him, he continued. “How long were you pair at the window?”

“Long enough,” Letha snarled, “to have some seriously big questions.”

“Which we can answer,” Azrael said, nodding, “up to a point.”

“I guarantee you – that point will be the end of the answer.”

“If you insist.” He sunk into the armchair, gesturing to the couch opposite, but Letha manoeuvred over to the window, leaning against it.

“I started the conversation over here,” she stated, “I’ll finish it over here.”

Mickey nodded at her brother and led him to the couch, falling in beside Urnest. Hadrian sat beside him, on the edge of the cushions, with his eyes constantly flicking around the room. He licked his lips nervously. Ignoring Mickey’s encouraging smile, Letha focused on Azrael.

“Firstly, why the Hell does your son keep showing up at our house? He never seems to know why.”

Azrael sucked his teeth, “I asked Mickey to check out the house, because I thought it was being used for something that it has become obvious it isn’t being used for, at which point he discovered that you and your family live there.”

Mickey managed to keep his expression neutral, “To be more specific; that you live at the place that isn’t the place we thought it was.”

“That was you answering a question?” Letha asked dryly.

Hadrian grinned, “At which point, you mean, Mickey did his whole ‘impatient Romeo’ act.”

When he received blank looks, Hadrian’s voice trailed off, “You know, below the balcony, can’t wait, climbs up…”

After a second, Gabe laughed heartily, “I like this kid.”

Shaking her head, Letha frowned at Azrael, “What did you think our house was being used for?”

Mickey looked at his foster-father, curious as to what he’d say.

“Let’s come back to that one,” the man stalled.

“Fine,” Letha jerked her head at Cassie, “Why would Bessie be feeling nauseous and dizzy?”

With a disgusted groan, Cassie perched on the arm of Azrael’s chair. Crossing her legs and arms, she fixed a sharp stare on the other girl. Crossing her legs and arms, she fixed a sharp stare on the other girl.

Azrael looked around the room, “Anyone got a good answer?”

“The best I got is ‘cause’,” Mickey shrugged.

“I think we should lock them in the cellar.”

Turning to his sister, Gabe frowned, “We don’t even have a cellar!”

“Lucky for them,” Cassie hissed.

“Ok, that was helpful,” Azrael rubbed his eyes, “but let’s pretend I never asked. We want to help people, Letha, and to do that, we have to be good people. In order to do that, we got…changed.”

“Brain surgery?” Letha asked, her expression slightly disgusted.

“No.” The man looked like he was walking on eggshells.

Hadrian craned his head forward, “implants?”

Scratching his head, Azrael met the boy’s gaze, “You could say so.”

“Implants to make you better people?” Letha shook her head, “Bessie, I think yours malfunctioned.”

Cassie gave her the finger.

“My point exactly.”

Biting his lip to keep from laughing, Mickey stood. He clenched and unclenched his hands, thinking about what they’d admitted so far.

“By ‘we’,” he added, “Azrael is referring to the ‘royal we’. Meaning all of us, but not him.”

“Ok,” Letha muttered, casting him an annoyed look before turning back to his father, “Are these ‘implants’ working? On everyone except Bessie, that is.”

“It’s hard to tell,” Azrael said, looking up and fixing his eyes on the roof, “We don’t know what to expect.”

“Wait, You had experimental surgery so you could save people?” Hadrian chuckled, “It’ll be ironic if you die.”

Clapping him on the shoulder, Mickey nodded, “Thanks mate.”

“What was it supposed to do then?” Letha asked, “If it went according to plan.” When Azrael didn’t reply and Gabe avoided meeting her eye, she had no choice but to look to Mickey.

“Anything to say, Sherlock?”

He shook his head.

“Fine. You can answer that one later too,” Letha took a deep breath, “ Anything to ask, Hadrian?”:

Her brother shrugged, playing with the hem of his shorts, “What were you voting on with regards to Letha?”

It took a lot of effort for Letha not to laugh at his question. Gabe had no such restraint.

“Seriously; I love this kid!”

Cassie leant forward, craning her head to glare at Hadrian, “Whether we get to kill her or not.”

“Seriously?” Letha was unperturbed, appealing to Urnest, “And what was your vote?”

Mickey gave her a reproachful look.

She rolled her eyes, “What? I just like to know what’s on my horizon!”

“Death’s on everyone’s horizon, Letha.”

Hadrian flinched.

Azrael rose quickly, nearly brushing Cassie off her seat, and sighed. He looked at Letha sadly, swallowing.

“We were trying to decide whether to tell you everything, or to force you to do what we need you to.”

Straightening, Letha let her hands hang by her sides, raising her chin a fraction, “And you and Bessie were voting for force.”

The cow gave her a cruel smile.

“I’m sorry, Letha,” Azrael murmured, “But we need this to happen, and I couldn’t trust your reaction.”

“My reaction to what? So far, you’ve told me that my house isn’t what you thought it was, but you haven’t explained what you thought it was, that you have something that is but isn’t an implant and may or may not be working to make you better people, which you refuse to tell me about, and that you were voting on whether to tell me all this, or to make me do something for you that you can’t or won’t clarify.” Letha bowed her head at the end, her breath coming quickly.

“Feeling better?” Mickey asked quietly.

Raising her eyes to glare at him, Letha ground her teeth together, “Choose a question to properly answer; what did you think my house was, or what does the ‘implant’ do?”

Azrael looked around the room, trying to gauge his family’s answers, “We’ll tell you about the house. It’s…simpler.”

Letha swore.

Gabe, with a hand out to calm her, stepped up behind the armchair, “You need to understand that this is a lot less crazy than it sounds. There are other things that we’ll need to explain, history that will need to be rewritten, for it to make sense. Just,” he shrugged, “don’t run screaming.”

Letha’s head snapped up fully, “What on earth are you going to tell us?”

Azrael’s fingers flew to a chain around his neck; a simple silver cross. It was like the one Mickey was wearing the day before.

“We thought,” he said slowly, “that your house might have been the…”

“Lair,” Mickey supplied.

“Might have been the lair of…” Azrael couldn’t find the right words, his mouth opening and closing. Letha doubt this happened often to the man. “Perhaps we should start with the history and work up to present day? Or would you like something to eat or drink first?” he looked at Gabe, a little desperately, “I’m not sure whether I can say, or not.”

“You’re the boss, Az,.”

“No history, no snacks; the lair of what?” she snapped, her stomach sinking.

Mickey looked between his foster-father and Letha. He rose quickly, stepping up beside the man.

“The lair,” he said slowly, “of the seven deadly sins.”

Her sinking feeling rose up out of her stomach to constrict her lungs, and Letha choked on air, her eyes wide. She coughed heavily, trying to speak, but Hadrian managed to gasp what she was trying to say.

“What?” He was paler than usual, his red hair standing out like a halo of flame.

“I know it’s hard to understand,” Mickey said quickly, keeping his eyes fixed on Letha, “But these are some of the worst men alive. In fact, they’re not men. They’re…”

“We know.” Letha met her brother’s even gaze. She straightened slowly and nodded at him, before looking at the others, “What I mean is….well, ‘we know’ pretty much sums it up.”

“Excuse me?” Mickey seemed dazed, as if he couldn’t believe his ears.

Finally meeting his eyes, Letha raise her chin, “My brother didn’t ask his actual question; what he, what we, meant was… ‘how did you know?’.”

Urnest, still looking irritatingly calm, raised his finger to point at Letha again, his head tilted to one side, “She who listens need speak, and he who speaks need listen.”

Azrael nodded slowly, his eyes wild, “I think that sounds like a good plan.”

“But who is ‘he who speaks’?” Cassie asked, still eyeing Letha carefully.

“Who do we know who talks a lot?” Gabe snorted, and they all slowly turned to Mickey. Mickey who was still staring in shock at Letha. Mickey whose eyes occasionally darted to Hadrian, but they otherwise remained steadily locked on the girl.

“You know,” he repeated, raking his hair back out of his face.

Letha was stunned also, but her pride reared and she raised her chin, “Good work, Sherlock.”