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Neon Moon
chapter twenty three

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❛ you'll never take us alive
we swore that death will do
us part. they'll call our crimes
a work of art. ❜
— Partners In Crime, Set It Off

                    SHE WASN'T SURE WHY SHE WAS DOING THIS. Maybe it was because she felt like she owed him for agreeing to this crazy plan. Or maybe it was practice. Maybe it was therapy to help her from freaking out around the ripping of skin and feeding on blood. If she truly wanted to help Scott, she'd have to get used to it.

But the screams. Even the duct tape couldn't stop them from hitting her ears. The sound made the hairs on her arms stand to attention. For a short while, she was back at the Titty Twister. She was back in the carnage, watching as dancers ripped men apart. She was back there, watching helplessly as her whole world was flipped upside down.

          His fierce growling took her back to the temple. She could remember how their breath smelled and how their animalistic shrieks shook her eardrums. A sick feeling began to blossom in her stomach. Her back remained turned on Rafael and his dinner, the man's cries of pain and for help slowly reducing into nothing.

She didn't turn around. Not even when his feeding stopped. She couldn't look at all of the blood without fear of regurgitating her snack. Rafael stood the his feet and used the handkerchief in his back pocket to clean the blood from his mouth. His steps were quiet as he approached the brunette.

          "Mil gracias," he exhaled. He stopped next to her, stuffing the handkerchief back into his pocket. She glanced toward him, brows lifted. "I was dying of hunger." Marisol shrugged her shoulders. She wasn't sure how to respond. After all, she just helped murder a man. A gross man, but a man nonetheless. "You told me to lure him down here, so I did," she replied.

          He sniffed, the corners of his mouth curling upward. "I'm thankful I met you, Marisol." She scoffed. The corny comment made her face light up. "Shut up," she exhaled in a laugh. He took a single step toward her, head tilted and eyes staring into her own. His smile softened. "Are you going to make me?" he asked. His tone was teasing.

          "No, but Seth might." She wasn't threatening him. She wasn't even upset with him. It was nice to have a calm moment of banter with someone. It was nice to not fight for once. "Ah, Seth," he said, his tongue prodding his canines with a grimace. "Are you two together? Romantically?"

          She couldn't fight off the amused smirk from her features. Half were cast in shadows from the lights outside. She didn't answer. A part of her wanted to say yes. After all this time, they were together. But... were they really? They were intimate, that was for sure. They exchanged 'I love you's every day before either one of them leaves. But they weren't happy.

          Rafael leaned into her, ducking to catch her wandering eyes. "Hey," he called out to her. "What're you thinking about?"

          A lot, she thought, but didn't say. She shook her head. "That Seth is going to kill both of us if we're even later than we already are," she answered jokingly. He rolled his eyes at her answer, but silently agreed. He hadn't met Seth yet. Marisol spoke highly of him, but rarely of him. She nodded her head across the street where the motel sat. What luck they had for being so close to a bar.

The walk was silent. Rafael followed Marisol closely, silently. Once they reached the door, Marisol knocked twice. It opened moments later, revealing Seth. His eyes immediately jumped over her head to spot the culebra. "This is Raf," she whispered. "Rafael."

          His eyes narrowed. "Welcome to Mexico's Dew Drop Inn," he replied sarcastically. Seth stepped aside and allowed the two to enter the room. Rafael didn't catch the reference. He didn't understand, but Marisol did. "Time to talk action," she stated, choosing to ignore Seth's previous declaration. Rafael nodded. "I agree."

          "Me too," Seth blurted out. Lightning fast, he took out a hand drawn floor plan of the mercado. Marisol looked impressed. She'd never actually seen him in action like this. "So, we're gonna get into the back of the beauty parlor and get the cash from this safe while her bodyguards sit there?" Rafael asked.

          "Yes, we are," he replied. "While Frick and Frack park it here, you're gonna go in," he pointed at Marisol before taking a strand of her hair between his fingers, "and get your hair did. Okay?" She nodded. Warmth spread throughout her cheeks. "Tell Ma Barker you need to use the juanito, whatever, and then you're gonna pop the lock exactly like you did before."

"Got it," she exhaled. Seth smiled over at her sweetly. It was almost like Rafael wasn't there, but he was. And his presence was nerve wracking for Seth. "So, uh..." He ducked his head back down to the paper. He glanced over his work before looking back up toward the male. "You." Rafael met his eyes reluctantly. "You run this little bodega over here, is that correct?" He tapped the bodega on the paper.

          Her eyes rolled. "It's a botánica. There's a difference," Rafael replied. Seth's head nodded. "Huh. So, are you a true believer?" She couldn't stop the annoyance from slipping onto her face. "In what?"

          "In that shit you sell there," Seth said. He straightened his back, thick arms coming to cross over his chest. Rafael glanced toward Marisol with a questioning look. She couldn't help. She was just as lost as he was. "Business seems to be good," Seth stated. Rafael shrugged. "It's all snake oil to me."

"I don't know," Seth sighed. "It's funny, you know, the people that are buying all that shit from you, call me crazy but I don't really consider them people at all."

"Seth," Marisol warned. Rafael shook his head. "What do you think?" Seth continued. He had caught on. Marisol was sure that he had. Why else would he bring them up? Rafael snorted. "I don't ask. I just take their money."

She felt her shoulders relax when Seth seemed satisfied with Rafael's answer. Rafael nodded his head, standing straight. "It's a good plan," he said. Marisol agreed. She only hoped they'd be able to stick to it.

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          Marisol couldn't understand how Seth could be so calm in a situation like this. Sitting in the car in front of the mercado was enough to have her feeling like she was going to barf in the floorboards. She swallowed nervously, fingers toying at the sleeves of her jacket.

"What if she doesn't let me back there?" she asked, her voice barely above a whisper. Seth made sure every gun was loaded. He made sure everything was perfect. His eyes snapped toward Marisol with furrowed brows. It was surprising to see her riddled with such nerves. "She will," he replied, "okay?"

She tore her eyes away from the building to meet his eyes. They had softened a bit, his brows relaxed. "You've got to relax," he told her. "It's a good score. You did well. Have faith in yourself." She released a shaky breath. Silence fell between them as she leaned back into the passenger seat, her head hitting the headrest with a soft thud. "I know that I didn't exactly make this easy on you... But I just want to say thank you. For putting up with my shit."

"For better or worse, right?" she replied jokingly, a smile cracking across her face. Seth snorted. His fingers drummed quietly over the steering wheel. "If that's how you want it to be." There was a ghost of a smile on his face, his eyes turning back on the mercado before him. Marisol relaxed a bit, heaving a deep sigh.

There was a moment of silence. It was calming. And then his phone vibrated. The sound was low, low enough that Seth seemed to be the only one who heard it. He dug through his jacket pocket for his phone before whipping it out and flipping it open. Marisol glanced toward him as he read over the text message. "Okay," he exhaled, closing the device and pocketing it just as fast as he had pulled it out.

Calmly, he turned back to Marisol. "You ready, partner?" he asked. Despite the nerves sloshing around inside her gut like a sick soup, she smile. It was masked with an excitement that tickled her cheeks. It spread through her like a wildfire touching the edge of a heavy wooded forest. She withdrew the purse she had bought solely for this score. It slipped onto her shoulder with ease.

"Hey," Seth spoke up, grabbing her arm before she could pop open the door and get out. Curiously, she spun around to meet his eyes. "I've got your back," he told her. She nodded, brows furrowing. "And... I love you."

In one fluid motion, she pressed her lips to his. It was a quick peck, but it made the world of difference. "I love you, too," she exhaled, grinning over at the man beside her. "Now, let's do this before I throw up everywhere."

"Okay," he replied with a slight laugh. Their doors opened in sync, and the two exited the vehicle. Marisol left first. She kept her purse to her side and entered the mercado with butterflies swarming in her stomach.

          The beauty parlor was a bit of a straight shot. The doors were open and the sound of a hair dryer flittered outside. She slipped into the room with ease, her shoulders squared and her hands at her sides. An older woman was getting her hair done. "Perdóneme," Marisol said, her voice raising above the hair dryer. The hair dresser glanced toward Marisol for a moment before setting down her tools.

          "Mi sobrina va a tener una quinceañera esta noche y mi estilista tiene doble cita.  Esperaba que pudieras ayudarme," Marisol explained nervously. The hairstylist looked her up and down curiously. A small smile formed on her face. "¿Qué estás pensando?" she replied. Marisol motioned toward her head and made a growing motion. A laugh left the stylist's mouth.

          "Sit," she instructed, motioning toward the chair next to her. Marisol smiled bigger, her cheeks tingling. "Gracias," she said. She walked around the stylist and spun the chair. The parlor was stocked well. "¿Puedo usar el baño primero?" The stylist clicked her tongue against the roof of her mouth. "No, mija, está rota."

          Marisol drew in a sharp breath. She waved her hand nonchalantly. "That's okay," she replied. "I ate churros earlier with my brother, and my hands are... sticky." The hairstylist nodded in what Marisol perceived as understanding. Using the blowdryer, she pointed toward the back where the bathroom resided. Marisol's shoulders relaxed. "Gracias," she said once more, bowing her head toward the older woman.

She slipped into the bathroom and locked the door behind her. A rinsing sink was in there instead of a regular sink. She positioned the hose downward before turning it on. "Okay," she exhaled, shaking out her hands. She scrambled through her purse before taking out the bump key. "You've got this, Marisol," she whispered. "It's all in the reflexes."

She approached the doorknob with hesitant steps. It was all becoming so real. If she got caught, she could be killed. Gently, she attempted to push the key into the key hole and squatted before the knob. The tip jabbed against the surface, but wouldn't go in. It only slipped and slid across it.

Her skin began to run cold. She swallowed, shaky hands trying to work the key. But it wouldn't go in. "No, no, no, no, no," she grumbled, panic swimming through her veins. It wasn't working. Why wasn't it working. "Fuck!" she hissed. She had to restrain herself from punching the door. Her breaths came out in short pumps.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck." She stood to her feet and whirled around, fingers coming to lock in her hair. She tried to take deep breaths. She tried to ignore the tears burning away at her eyes. Her head tilted back, lips pressing tight together, her heart pounding in her throat. When she straightened back up, she noticed something out of her peripheral.

          Sitting atop a shelf was a small fire extinguisher. She knew that she had to be quiet. One firm hit could be enough to break the knob. Without hesitation, she reached for the red object and returned to stand in front of the door. The blow dryer was still going. The sink was on. Surely she could get through this without turning any heads. She took in several deep breaths before raising it above her head and bringing it down onto the knob. In one hit, the knob crumbled.

          She sucked in a gasp of astonishment. The fire extinguisher felt light in her hands. "Thank you," she whispered, dropping her head. "Thank you, thank you, thank you." She wanted to jump around and rejoice. That was, until she could hear the hairstylist outside the door. "Señorita? ¿Qué está pasando allí?"

          "¡Un momento!" she replied, hurriedly placing the extinguisher where she found it. The handle began to jiggle. Marisol swiftly ran her hands under the water before switching it off. She then unlocked the door. It swung open immediately, narrowly missing her. "No pude encontrar el jabón.  Accidentalmente dejé caer algunas cosas," she explained calmly. "I made sure to pick them up."

          When the stylist didn't respond, Marisol brushed past her. She approached the free chair with a smile of faux excitement. The stylist followed her, seemingly none the wiser. Once she was parked, the stylist began playing with her hair. "You've got beautiful hair," she commented with a small smile.

          "Mi madre me mataría si no me hiciera cargo," Marisol answered honestly. The older woman laughed, glancing up to meet her eyes in the mirror. For a moment, it all felt normal. She was just getting her hair done. But then the collector entered the shop. His eyes met hers in the mirror almost instantly. "¿Tomando perros callejeros ahora, mamá?" he questioned with furrowed brows.

          Marisol snorted. "Puede que sea un vagabundo, pero tú te pareces más a uno." One of his men chuckled, the other surprised. The stylist grinned, fluffing her hair. They watched them exit toward the back room. "¿Qué opinas de los rizos grandes?" she asked, smiling down at Marisol. The brunette sighed, nodding her head. "Perfect," she replied.

          She needed enough time to stall for Seth to get everything and get out. She could handle time in a chair. She used to do it all the time with her mother. "Sabes, en un apuro, golpearía eso," one of the henchmen commented with a chuckle. The other with a hat nodded. "Ella se ve bien, ¿no?" Marisol rolled her eyes. The brush combed through her hair while the curling iron heated up. "Te das cuenta de que puedo oírte, ¿verdad?"

          "Sí," the former replied. It felt nice to have someone treat her for once. It felt like home. "Mari," came Seth's voice as he rushed into the room. "We've got no time for an updo. We've got a bus to catch, baby. Let's go." Marisol glanced toward him in surprise. She glanced back toward the hairstylist apologetically. "Lo siento mucho.  Ese es mi esposo." She dug out money from her purse and set it onto the counter with a small smile.

          She thought they were out of the woods. It all had worked perfectly, right? So why was she reaching for a gun. Seth ripped his gun from his waistband and pointed it at the woman. "Nope," he said, tsking the older woman. The gun then whipped toward the two next to the door. "Don't do that," he warned them. "Not a good idea."

She stood behind Seth quietly. Her heart was back in her throat. He turned the gun back onto the older woman. "Let me tell you something. And I know that you habla ingles, so don't give me that little look, all right?" His breathing was ragged. "I am not your enemy. And I am not your friend. I am simply here for what is mine."

Confusion began to pass over Marisol's features. Her brows furrowed curiously. "Now I understand that it was yours, but due to the unwritten rules of this life that you chose, it now belongs to me. So I'm going to take it. And there's not a thing you or Menudo here are gonna do about it. This is who I am. This is what I do. Thank you for your cooperation. Adiós."

His free hand grabbed Marisol's. He didn't turn his back on them, but he successfully dragged her out of the building. Their fingers intertwined as a joyous smile beamed from her face. "We did it," she rejoiced, squeezing his hand. Rafael stood before them with a proud smile.

Marisol smiled toward him. But her smile quickly vanished when his blood splattered against her skin. A gasp ripped through her throat. Blood leaked from the wound in his neck. Seth was quick to move in front of her, shielding her with his body. His finger pulled wildly at the trigger of his gun, bullets penetrating the older man in front of them. They hit him one after the other, but he didn't slow down. He expelled dust with each hit. "Come on," he told Marisol, nudging her to the side, "come on!"

He dragged her behind him. Everywhere they turned, a gun was pointed at them. Seth took down the two henchmen with ease. His hammer clicked, however, once he met the stylist. She pumped her shotgun with a wild look in her eyes. Seth was quick to grab Marisol and force her to the ground.

Another gunshot rang out, followed by a loud thud. His face was inches from hers, stained with Rafael's blood. Heavy footsteps neared before their heads turned and a gun was staring back at Seth. "Long way from Kansas City, Mr. Gecko," the old man said. Marisol shuddered.

"Go fuck yourself," Seth growled. Marisol's hand wrapped itself into his shirt. Wide eyes full of worry focused on him instead of the man towering over them. "I want your brother. And the whore! And you're gonna help me find him!" His head turned toward Marisol. She could feel his eyes boring into her skin. Bravely, she met his eyes. She stared back at him with a courage she had struggled to find for years.

          "This one," he said, turning the gun onto her, "I don't need." She swallowed. Her eyes moved toward the barrel of the gun, nervous tears pricking against her eyes. Before he could pull the trigger, Rafael lunged onto him. He was scaly and angry, and he ripped into the old man's neck. Seth was quick to move onto his feet, arms wrapping around Marisol and pulling her along.

          She couldn't stop the panic that made her blood ice over. She ran alongside Seth, breathing ragged, and eyes blurring with unshed tears. They escaped the building and headed straight for their car. "Who the fuck is that?" she asked, racing toward the passenger seat. Seth huffed with every spring. "How should I know?" he replied, his tone aggressive.

          The doors to the mercado opened just as they made it to the car. Marisol looked back. His gun was lifting until Rafael threw himself on him. The sun began to eat away at his skin. A horrified expression washed over her features. "No!" she screamed, shaky hands moving to her mouth. Dust fell from his cracking skin. "Go!" he roared.

          "Get in the car!" Seth told her. But she couldn't tear her eyes away. She watched as her friend sacrificed himself. She watched as he burned to ash before her very eyes. She fell into the car, sobs shaking her to the very core, and closed the door after her. Seth's foot landed heavy on the accelerator.

          "No, no, no, no," she continued to sob, turning in her seat to watch the old man disappear into the distance. "Marisol," Seth called out to her. "Mari, you have to calm down." She shook her head. How could she calm down? How could she move on? She fell against the seat, burying her face in the upholstery. "Everyone's dying," she cried out, voice muffled. "Everyone's dying and I can't stop it."

          "It's part of the job," Seth replied. "Sometimes it can't be stopped." Her fingers curled into a tight fist. Her nails dug into the skin of her palms. "He– He came out of nowhere. I didn't– How was I supposed to know that he was going—"

          Seth's teeth ground together. "I knew it," he stated. "I knew this was going to happen." She lifted her head, face wet with tears. She sniffed. "How could you have known?" she asked, her tone growing rough.

          "Because I'm a professional crook. And I've lived long enough to know when a thing is shit." He refused to meet her eyes. He couldn't when she looked so broken. "I smelled it all over your little street rat, too."

          "Don't you dare," she growled. "He was my friend. He tried to help us." Seth shook his head. "No, he was one of 'em, and you knew it!" She sat back into the seat. Her eyes traveled toward the road ahead of them. "Yeah," she exhaled. "Yeah, I did. And I trusted him. He was going to help me with– with stuff."

          "You want help?" Seth asked. "Let me help you." Finally his eyes found hers. "And listen real close because this one's gold." She turned toward him, her eyes red and wet. Seth swallowed. "Everybody that you cared about in that fucked up place... is gone. Including that little shit, Scott."

          She snapped her head toward the window. Her face was going to crumble and give away everything she felt in that moment; hurt, anger, despair. She sniffed. "Stop the car." Seth scoffed. "Stop the car. What are you talking about?"

          "Stop the car," she repeated more firm. Seth couldn't believe his ears. He turned toward Marisol, only for her fuse to finally blow. "Stop the fucking car!" she shouted. The brakes squealed as Seth slammed on the brakes. They jolted in their seats. Her hands slammed against the dash.

          Seth stared at her in disbelief. "Marisol." Her name fell off his tongue like a silent prayer. A part of him didn't want to fight. He was willing to let her go if that was what she wanted, but the other part couldn't. He had just gotten her back. "Fuck you, Seth Gecko," she whispered.

          His heart shattered. The repair job she had worked endlessly one gave in. He reached across her and forced the door open. "You want out? Then get the fuck out." She wiped at her tears, smearing the blood across her face. "You want to go play in the darkness, little miss hero? Then be my guest. I don't need this shit. Not anymore."

          "This shit," she echoed. "You're going to end up dying alone if you keep this up." He scoffed. He relaxed back into the seat, hands gripping the steering wheel like a lifeline. "Yeah, well maybe that's how I want it. Why don't you just take your stupid passport and half the take and get the hell out of the car?"

          And she did. She took just enough to take care of herself and the passport he had gotten made for her. She could hardly breathe around the lump in her throat. Without another word, she slipped out of the car and slammed the door shut. Seth pulled off without hesitation, dust flying in the air from the tires.

          Just as she turned on her heels, the brake lights came on and the car was pulling to a stop. "Don't do it," she whispered. Don't come back. She wasn't sure she could fight with him anymore. Slowly, the car moved in reverse until he was right in front of her. It was put into park and he exited the car. "Fucking take it," he grumbled, thrusting the bag into her arms.

          "I don't—"

          Regardless of the anger they both felt, Seth kissed her. It was gentle and full of love. It spoke everything for him. When he pulled away, he couldn't meet her eyes. Instead, he stalked off, leaving her with the car.

rumi says . . .
ouch i am so sorry,,
but it had to be done. 🤧

rafael's death made me so mad
the first time i watched. bc he and
kate were so cute. she actually had
an age appropriate possible love interest
and then they just killed him off

how was the chapter?
what was your favorite part?

i hope you guys enjoyed it!
feedback is seriously appreciated!