Thirteen

Arcadia's Emporeum was almost as big as the police station, Oliver realized. Or rather, the supernatural station. The humans' police station was almost twice as large and less elaborate. But that was beside the point.

The dome ceiling was covered in stained glass that was more a massive collage than it was a solid picture. In one corner, Oliver saw Cherubs with bows done in glass shards of orange and pink and red. In another, a spider weaved a suit of armor from its threads. The entire building had an almost holy vibe to it, the kind of vibe that made Oliver's stomach curl.

Rows of beds lay on both sides of the room and the nurse, Serena, guided Oliver to one to rest at. After sitting him down and taking away the cane he'd been given, she pulled the curtains around the bed and told him to lie back.

"I'll return shortly," she said. Oliver grunted in response. His eyelids closed and he looked to the ceiling with the shake of his head.

This is insanity.

He lay there for at least ten minutes before Serena returned with a yellow wash pail. Half the tools looked like products of a horror movie, ranging from the more sharp and pointy to those that were just bizarre. A variety of jars had been thrown in helter-skelter.

"Ah." Serena let the pail roll to a stop before fussing with the curtains around them. She stopped after a moment, looking around the cramped space before looking to Oliver.

"You. Sit up."

Oliver did as he was told, rising to a sitting position. Even supported by the bed, he still swayed.

"Yes, yes, very nice..." Serena pushed her glasses up her nose and hummed to herself, flitting from the pail to the foot of Oliver's bed and back again. Her bun swayed on top of her head, the black and white strands laced together so that not even one hair was out of place. "Now I need some of this..."

She continued to move, her wings stretched out behind her. While two of her hands moved to mix together liquids from different vials, her third grabbing a towel to wipe her head and her fourth grabbing another to throw at Oliver.

"Here. Wipe up the wound with this."

"But I already—"

Serena held up her free hand, leaving no room for arguments. Oliver grumbled to himself as he rubbed the cut on his head.

After more minutes of mixing and humming, Serena spun around and held a steaming vial out to Oliver. He took it with his free hand and examined the silver liquid, grimacing at the putrid stench that emanated from it.

"It's a serum," Serena said when Oliver gave her a questioning look. "Drink it. Even your boosted immune system isn't enough to prevent brain damage. The serum will fix with that.."

"I see." He swirled the vial around a couple of times before, with one last uncertain glance, he lifted it to his lips and swallowed. It burned going down, bearing the consistency of watered-down milk and tasting like cinnamon and fire. It dropped to the bottom of his stomach and sat there like a pile of rocks.

"Well?" Serena asked after a moment. She came to his side and poked him with her top two arms, mussing up his hair and poking the gash at the back of his head. With her other two arms, which Oliver now realized bores eyeballs on the backs, she busily scribbled notes.

I will have to ask her how it is to literally bear four eyes, he thought. Then he shook the thought off and waited for her to step away. Several seconds elapsed.

"Having four eyes is like having four arms for me, Mister Johnson, or how it is to have two arms and two eyes for you. Yes, the change in perspective is jarring at times, but I at least am able to switch at will and still manage to keep myself going." She looked at him with the eyes on her face, her blue irises like chips of ice. A heartbeat later, the cold look melted and she gave him a smile. "But I do not fault you for your curiosity. It never hurts to ask!"

Oliver just stared in response, stopping only to blink. All at once, all sensation left him. He fell backwards, body bouncing off the bed, and his eyelids fluttered closed. When Serena spoke, Oliver thought she sounded as though she was trying to speak through water.

"Don't you worry about a thing, Oliver. When you wake up, you'll be good as new."

He wished he had the strength to nod, or to even cough, but he didn't. It was like being caught underwater. The currents dragged him down, down, down...

And Oliver was powerless to stop it.

#

When he was conscious once more, Oliver was on his side. The arm underneath him tingled, on the verge of falling asleep. All he could see through his right eye was white. At once, he tried to jolt upright, only to find that his body reacted in a sluggish manner. What should have taken him a mere instant instead took him half of a minute to do. No thoughts came to him. His brain had been enveloped in a fog.

What...?

His first coherent thought echoed around his brain before fading back into silence. His temples pulsed.

"Welcome back, Oliver Johnson." Serena said. She stepped into view seconds later and Oliver gazed at her with his good eye. Without looking away, Oliver pushed himself upright with all the strength he could muster.

"Can you speak?"

Oliver opened and closed his mouth several times, but when he tried to respond, no sound came out. He raised his hands to his throat, nails pricking the skin, and tried again. After a moment, it was all he could do to shake his head.

"Alright. That's perfectly normal. I took some blood samples while you were asleep and had a look at your wound. Everything seems to be all in working order." Here she stopped, averting her gaze and clasping her third and fourth hands. Her first and second hands went behind her back. "Now, there was your friend's request for a drug test..."

Oliver nodded. "I..." His voice was little more than a faint squeak. He coughed and tried again. "I didn't think that was necessary."

"That's what they all say." The eyes on Serena's hands blinked once, then again. Somehow, it unnerved Oliver the slightest bit.

"I also can't see out of my right eye," Oliver said, never looking away.

Serena nodded. "That's right. I bound up your wound with some bandages. Unfortunately, due to the location, I couldn't do so without covering one of your eyes... And I figured you wouldn't want your hair shaved."

He gave her a steely stare. "You're right," he replied. "I didn't."

"As I figured." Her lower right arm snaked out and she grabbed a small container from the pail beside her. She held it out to him. "Here."

Oliver took it before giving her a quizzical arch of his free eyebrow.

"As soon as you're awake enough to stand and speak, I want you to fill that. I need a urine sample for the drug test. Then you can go back into action, for all I care."

Oliver nodded, turning the container over in his hands and reading the label with his one good eye. Wrote out in dark red ink was his name and relevant medical information.

Even the mundo mortua plays by human rules. Oliver clenched the container in his fist until he heard the plastic crunch. When he relaxed his hold, the plastic had molded.

"Is it broken?" Serena asked in a clipped tone. She wasn't looking his way when Oliver glanced to her.

"No."

"Good." She grabbed him with one hand and pulled him to his feet, then shoved him away from the bed. "Now go." The curtains shut behind them with the wave of one hand.

#

"Johnson. Where the fuck are you?"

Dear God, it's begun. Oliver pinched the bridge of his nose and growled before bringing the phone back to his ear. The sound of Gabriel's heavy breathing sent wave after wave of irritation racing through Oliver's nerves.

"Oh, didn't they tell you?"

"They? John—"

"I'm at Arcadia's, dammit." Oliver grit his teeth together and inhaled deeply. "I..."

"Had another episode?"

"Ye of little faith!" Oliver shook his head. "No. Well, not technically." He rolled his eyes as he tried to think of a proper response. "Shit... I hit my head in the bathroom. Passed out or something."

"I'm sorry, what?"

"You heard me." Oliver gripped the bridge of his nose harder. "Puked on the toilet seat and gave myself a nasty cut. I'm lucky I don't have a concussion."

For several seconds, the phone line was silent. Then, "No, we certainly wouldn't want that.."

"My thoughts exactly."

A pause. "Are you fit for duty?"

"I can be."

"Good. Come back in and get some work done. I don't care what it is, just get something."

"Yes, Director."

"Did Sully take you to Arcadia's?"

Oliver examined the nails on his free hand before biting his index finger with his teeth. "He did." He spat grime out of the side of his mouth.

"Smart move. Drug test?"

"For sure."

"In that case, I will have the results patched through to me. Thank you."

"Yep."

"And Johnson?"

Oliver exhaled, biting down so hard on his nail that he heard it crack. "Yes?" he replied.

"I'm reaching my wits end with you."

"I am well aware of that, Director." With a chuckle and a lopsided grin, Oliver quickly said his goodbyes and snapped the phone shut. He cast a glance skyward before stuffing his hands in his pockets and shaking his head. Calling Arthur could wait, he decided. Indeed, coming into work could wait as well.

First, there's something I've been dying to do.

And so he walked, the clicking of his shoes like music to his ears.

#

The Johnson residence looked almost the exact same way it had when Oliver had last seen it. The only difference – that he could discern – were the lack of lights in the windows and the extra car in the driveway. Marlene's car.

Oliver picked at his teeth with his thumb nail before spitting on the sidewalk. Never before had he felt such an unnerving sense of apathy.

He spat again. "It's not like they care anymore, anyway."

Or at least, he figured that Russle didn't. At the very least, he had to have moved on.

But Lilith...

He stopped and bits of fingernail crunched in his teeth.

I wonder if she's home right now. Probably not.

But then again, did it really matter?

Oliver shook his head and stuffed his hands under his armpits. Around him, the leaveless trees looked like skinless monsters. The first breaths of winter pricked at his skin.

This was a waste of time.

As soon as the thought had come, it was gone again, replaced with a more sinister realization.

I could get in trouble for this... But...

"Lilith." Saying his sister's name dissolved all sense of caution within him. He fingered the metal charm inside his pocket, feeling each curve and edge with the pad of his thumb. He couldn't tell outright which charm it was, but he guessed it was the Mickey Mouse one. In the back of his head, he could almost hear the screaming children again.

His sentiments were disturbed when a sinking feeling hit him. Oliver snapped back to attention, fixing his gaze on the spacious house before him. The smell of sulfur hit him. He spun on his heel, catching at once the long coat and red eyes that told him all he needed to know. The Magistrate member stuffed his arms into the sleeves of his overgrown coat and gave him a level look.

"I had a feeling I'd find you here," the man said as he cocked his head. White bangs, highlighted with silver, fell into his eyes and barely shifted when he shook his head.

"Somehow, I knew we'd meet again." Oliver took out the hand not touching his metal charms and waved it flippantly in the air. "In fact, I'm hardly surprised."

"As am I, to see you where I have. Either your wit is sharp, your gut instinct hasn't dissolved yet, or you're just an idiot. I'll be delighted to see which conclusion we reach."

"It..." Oliver squeezed his eyes shut and pinched the bridge of his nose. "It wasn't like I was going to do anything. I just wanted to look."

"One tally for stupidity. That shouldn't have surprised me." The man closed the distance between them and, with no more than a rustle of fabric, grabbed Oliver by the shoulders and spun him back to face the house. "Tell me you can't feel that."

"Feel wha—"

Still behind him, the man gripped Oliver's chin in his fingers and pulled his face towards the house. "Focus."

After a moment, a feeling of unease settled in Oliver's stomach. Then, faintly, Oliver could see the dark aura that wreathed from the roof. It rose ever-upwards, growing more transparent as it ascended.

"What is that?"

The man released him with a sigh. "It's a Scourge."

Oliver's heart skipped a beat. "A..." He blinked. "A Scourge?"

"Indeed. Another tick for stupidity." He breezed past Oliver and stepped to the curb. After looking both ways along the road, he huffed and stepped into the street. He seemed to glide across the ground and was at the fence around the Johnson residence within seconds. He turned back and jerked his head.

"Well?" he called. "Come on, then."

Oliver looked along the road – a useless motion, if he said so himself – before sprinting across and coming to the Magistrate member's side.

"Shouldn't we call for help or something?"

The man looked to him, red eyes blazing. With the wave of one hand, he said, "Isn't your human sister here? Isn't she your priority in this situation?"

"I... I've always been told to put protocol first."

"Your sister is your protocol." He spat the words out like they were venom. "Are you really going to skip step A to get to steps B and C?"

"I don't follow."

"A third tally for stupidity." The man swung his arm, stopping just a heart-beat before he could smack Oliver upside the head. "First order of business is to keep the humans out of immediate danger. This Scourge, especially if it's the same one that has been running amok, is the immediate danger in this situation."

Oliver nodded. "But isn't this over-ruled by her being my sister? Conflict of interest and all that lovely bullshit."

This time, the man's blow connected. "Watch your tongue, imbecile. No." He grabbed Oliver's hand and dragged him towards the fence. The entranceway opened before them without either man having to touch it.

"In this case, you can rest easy. There are exceptions to be had here."

With this cryptic response, the man stepped onto the property. Oliver followed close behind, the uneasy feeling inside him swelling until he thought he would choke. After a moment, they stepped onto the porch and the man gave the door a once-over.

"We're just going to walk through the front door?"

The man shook his head. "Of course not." Then he planted his palm against the dark brown wood and the next thing Oliver knew, he was standing inside of his old living room.

"We phased through."

Oliver could barely hear the Magistrate man over the sudden roaring in his ears. Hung over the mantel were several pictures of himself, some with his sister in the picture, or of their dad. In the very back was one of their dad, Oliver, and Lilith, whom Oliver had been carrying on his shoulders in the shot. Beside their dad was a woman with light brown skin who'd worn her hair in a thick braid.

Dawn Johnson, Lilith's mother.

Of course, the picture had been taken before Lilith had grown too large to carry anymore, and before Dawn had left them. Both instances had come without warning to the Johnson household. Only one of them had been expected.

I don't know why he keeps that picture. Oliver frowned and pulled at his shirt cuff. It's not like it does anything for us. I don't imagine that Lilith wants to remember the woman that was never there.

There still weren't any pictures of Marlene Briggs, Oliver noted. While still only classified as Russle Johnson's "girlfriend", Marlene had come the closest to being a mom to either sibling, as well as the best and most fitting spouse for their father. Overall, the Johnson household loved Marlene. Even Oliver, though his suicide had come – unfortunately – just two short weeks after she had moved in.

Sometimes, he still felt guilty about the timing.

It doesn't matter anymore, though. In their eyes, I'm gone. Dead. Nothing more than a faded memory that they keep plastered above their fireplaces and inside their minds. Their memory of me might never go, but it'll warp, given time.

Or at least, he hoped that would be the case.

"Oliver," the man said, snapping Oliver back to focus. He looked over and caught the man's eye.

"Sorry," Oliver replied, "I was thinking."

"So I saw." Then he cut the air between them with two fingers, first horizontally and then vertically. He was, Oliver noticed with a hint of bemusement, drawing a cross over Oliver's body. "For your protection," he said when Oliver gave him a quizzical look. The detective nodded once before heading for the fireplace.

"Oliver, don't get distracted."

"Right."

Moments later, Oliver heard sniffling. He looked to the man, who nodded.

Lilith Is she... crying?

"On my mark." The man stopped to draw a cross in front of himself before heading for the hallway. "I don't know what we're going to face, but—"

He was sent flying, hitting the back of the couch with a crunch. Both skid across the wood and hit the wall before Oliver could stop them.

"How charming."

Oliver looked back and bared his teeth. In the hallway stood a man younger than he was. A teeth and steel necklace was around his neck, from which a small red stone hung in the very center.

"The dead brother comes to be reunited with his sister." The Scourge widened his eyes, his slitted pupils expanding and contracting as he grinned. "Too bad what's gone can never return."

He sprang at Oliver and both men fell to the ground, the Scourge gripping Oliver's wrists and pinning him. His teeth, jagged and tipped with red, gleamed as he chuckled.

"You could always go back to her, you know. All you have to do is join me."

Before Oliver could respond, the Magistrate member was upon the both of them, knocking the Scourge off of Oliver and landing blow after blow to the younger man's chest. Oliver saw the fabric of his coat ripple violently until, with a sound like a faint scream, leathery wings exploded from the Magistrate man's back. The wings curved, their thick flesh ending in a pair of hands that grabbed the Scourge by his forearms and held him down.

"The magic man finally shows his colors, eh? And here I thought you might've grown soft..." The Scourge closed his mouth, teeth clicking together, and stared up. His smile grew when the Magistrate member closed his hands around his throat. His red eyes bulged from their sockets. All the while, Oliver could only watch on, his mind in a daze.

"How cute," the Scourge rasped. "You think you can kill me."

Only then did Oliver come back to. He took a deep breath, mustering up as much strength as he could, and pushed himself to his feet. Before he could get close to them, the Magistrate member pushed him back with the wave of one wing. From the mantel, a picture fell, the glass shattering the instant it hit the ground.

I hope it was the one with Dawn in it. Oliver clenched his jaw and rubbed the small of his back. The base of his neck and the back of his neck ached from where they'd connected with the frame of the couch. After a moment, he pushed himself back up and stared at the wrestling duo before him. They both held the other in a choke-hold, neither showing signs of relenting.

"One day, you will remember the name Abraxas," spat the Scourge. With a huff, he bunched his knees up and kicked the Magistrate member square in the chest, then kicked him again when he was off from on top of him. Oliver grabbed the Magistrate member by the back of his coat and brushed him to the side, silently praying that his actions would help soften the impact. Then he lunged for Abraxas...

Only to hit the ground face-first. The Scourge was gone.

"If you want to stop me," came Abraxas's voice, though Oliver couldn't tell where from, "you'll have to do better than that."

From behind Oliver came the sound of scraping, then of glass. He turned, watching with faint bemusement as the couch shifted back to its original position and the fallen picture rose to sit back on top of the fireplace. Shards of glass followed soon afterwards. The Magistrate member groaned and drew a cross over himself once more.

"I don't think God can save you now," Oliver said.

"No, perhaps not," he replied. Then he drew another cross. "In any case, we should go—"

The man's eyes widened. Oliver cocked his head to the side.

"Something the matter?"

"Oh my God..."

The new voice made Oliver pause. I know that voice. That's...

"Oliver?"

His heart skipped a beat. He turned back for the hallway, hands shaking inside his pockets as he once again fingered the charm inside.

"...Lilith?"