Darkest Before the Dawn (male/male)
Following Through

Barty

Located on the outskirts of town, we drove down a private path to get towards Callie’s home, a ranch style house with plenty of country influence. There was even a barrel for rainwater and a horseshoe above the door. “This is cute,” Marigold mused, getting out of the car. We were greeted with the distance sounds of horses and cows, signifying that we were definitely far away from any big cities.

The woman who greeted us at the wooden front door was almost the opposite of Mariah with neatly done hair and a face full of makeup. She looked like what every teenage horse girl wanted to be when she grew up. “Hi, can I help you?” I was not into Southern accents, but hers was oddly charming.

“I’m Detective Palmer, and this is Detective Marigold. We’re detectives working on the case for Penelope Stintz. Are you Callie?” As soon as I flashed the badge, the door opened wide for us. “We shouldn’t take too much of your time. Thank you for letting us in.”

“Oh my gosh, of course. Anything to figure out what happened to Penny.” We entered into the expansive living room, done with a rustic design, like what I’d seen in some designer magazines for that tacky country chic look. There were two kids sitting at the kitchen island, staring over at us with crayons hovering over coloring books. “Riley, Brandy, go on outside while the adults talk. See if you can go find Daddy to play with.”

“Are they here about Aunt Penny?” the little boy asked, sliding off his stool to come closer to me and Marigold.

“They are, which means we need our space to talk."

Goldie knelt down to face the boy, who I assumed was Riley, and smiled at him. Being a nymph, she had a sort of relaxing magic she could emit for others. It was calming when she did that, making everyone feel mildly warmer and nostalgic for a warm summer day. Riley seemed like this was the effect my partner was having on him.

“We’re going to ask your mom some questions about your Aunt Penny so that we can figure out what happened to her. Can you and your sister go color me a picture of a horse or something outside?"

The kid nodded, eyes moving up to Callie, probably silently asking what the hell this yellow-haired woman was doing to him. Callie waved her hand at him, and he and the two kids finally gave up and left through the back French doors. “Thank you,” said Callie, nodding at Goldie. “Ever since Penny was. . .well, they just haven’t been able to leave me alone for too long because they think it would’ve been me instead of her.”

“Do you think that?” I asked, finding that to be a good entry point.

She shrugged limply, then shook her head. “No, I don’t think so. My husband and I always watch those stupid crime shows, like Cold Case Files, and we think the person after Penny was after her specifically. The way she was killed was too unique, you know? Her momma said she had holes cut in her head and her eyes cut out. That ain’t some random murder.”

Marigold and I shared a look, wondering how much Callie knew and how close she was to being accurate. “So do you think it was someone from her past who wanted to hurt? Or someone new?” I couldn’t bring up our suspect specifically since I didn’t want to influence her, but I could start pushing her towards bringing up the bar if her story matched Mariah’s.

Callie bit the inside of her cheek, her full cheeks hollowing from it. “I don’t wanna speculate since that ain’t my job,” she started, taking the bar stool that her daughter had been sitting on earlier. “But there was a girl at the bar who sat with us. I don’t know her name, but I know Mariah was taking pictures.” Hiding my expression was usually easy, but I struggled to do it this time. “She was a pretty Asian woman who came over and hung out with us for a bit, then left. Said she was passing through, and normally I don’t think anything of that since we are a drive-through town. But she left, then Penny ends up dead. That’s too much of a coincidence.”

At least we were on the same page. “Can you describe her behavior?” I asked, thinking of how Mariah had described her as someone who seemed innocent.

“Oh, real sweet. She’s someone we could’ve been real friends with if the circumstances were different.” She sighed, picking at her manicure now. “I tell you, though, I’d place money on her being a part of this somehow. I feel it in my soul. Maybe she wasn’t the one who killed Penny, but she played a role.”

“Did you tell the police this?” Marigold asked, occupying the seat the little boy had been in earlier.

“I told them my thoughts, and they told me if that woman skipped town, it’d be hard to find her unless they got it sent to state people who could try to locate her.” Which partly explained why this case got brought to us, supernatural aspect aside. As soon as criminals started becoming a pain in the ass to local police, other agencies, like the FBI or MMES, became involved. “It just makes me sick that we’ll never find out who did this. I don’t want Penny to be a featured episode on a true crime podcast thing or TV show.”

Goldie was quickly at work with giving off her warmth as soon as Callie started sobbing, the blond woman choking it back as best as she could. “It’s going to be okay,” my partner pressed, whispering to the crying woman anything that would calm her down. Goldie handled emotions far better than I did, leaving me standing there awkwardly, wondering what to do with my hands and if now would be an appropriate time to sit down or not.

After a moment, Callie finally stifled her crying and drew in a shaky breath, expelling it slowly through her mouth. Her voice was thick with despair when she finally spoke. “I’m so sorry. We’ve been goin’ through the emotions, and I feel like I gotta stay strong for the kids. It’s only been a week, so I’m still comin’ to terms with Penny bein’ gone.”

“Nobody will fault you for that,” Goldie promised, hugging the woman tightly before grabbing some paper towels for her.

“You’ve been incredibly helpful, Callie,” I said, good at ending conversations to get us out of places. “If there’s any other information or questions, I’ll give you my number so you can call us.” Exchanging our numbers took only seconds, and we were back out to the car in minutes.

"We officially have our first suspect," I confirmed for Goldie when we were up the road. "I don't know who she is, but we have her photo, so we may be able to ask around here or Dahlonega to see if anyone recognizes her."

Hair was pushed back behind her ears at the same time she huffed. "You're intentionally ignoring that we can ask Felix about this, too. He may recognize this woman or know someone who does."

"We can do this without him, though."

"Barty, this is beginning to impair the investigation. No detective worth their salt is going to ignore a clue from an advocate, regardless of their personal hang ups with that person. We can do the bare minimum and ask Felix."

“Fuck that,” I hissed, glowering at her. I refused to yield on asking our boss for help.

“Oh, stop being prideful. This woman is obviously a vampire, so Felix may know something about her. You’re jeopardizing this case all because, wah, you think Felix is boring.”

“It isn’t just because he’s boring. He’s a boring vampire. How do you take a murder machine and make it dull?”

“Vampires aren’t murder machines!” She blanched, remembering quickly why we were this far away from Savannah. “Not all of them. Not Felix.” She huffed, eyebrows knitting together. “You’re going to have to move on from what happened to you twenty years ago. Felix is our boss. Accept it.”

A chill inched up my spine, both out of anger and remembrance. Goldie had no idea what happened because I never told her, something that I would keep secret from her for as long as I could. I had to remember that whenever I started getting pissed at her for telling me to move on. “He’s untrustworthy.”

“Tough. We’re calling him tonight.”

“No, we’re not. And that’s final.”

Four years into our friendship, and I was still learning that when I objected to Goldie, it never worked, which is how I found us seated on my hotel bed with a laptop balanced on my persistent friend’s lap. Skype was opened on it, calling Felix, much to my annoyance. Each time the Skype call rang, my blood took on a certain chill, hoping that he wouldn’t answer.

“Good evening, Marigold!” he chimed, accepting the call after about a minute. His short black hair stuck up in different places, like he had just rolled out of bed. “Sorry, I couldn’t find my phone.” The lighting around his face changed, and behind him, I caught glimpses of what I assumed was his house. Was that a cat I spotted on the kitchen counter? “How’s everything going? Is Bartholomew with you?”

“Yo,” I called, Goldie turning her laptop towards me. I panicked and threw up a peace sign, wondering where the fuck that had come from.

“Hey, there. Are you good? Have you been sleeping okay?” Goldie quickly turned the laptop back towards her before he could notice how quickly my face morphed into one of resentment.

“Wait, are we wearing the same pajamas?” my partner asked, moving the subject towards something that didn’t involve my well-being. She pulled at her cotton pajamas that had moons and stars on them.

“Did you get yours from Gap?” Felix pulled his phone away from his face so that he could show off his own pajamas, his with long sleeves.

“Yes! They had that big clearance sale a few weeks ago.” Her eyes darted over to me, lips pulling up into a smile at the ire that had spread across my face. I was literally born and raised in Hell, but this was so much worse. She was tormenting me, knowing how much I wanted to get off of Skype with Felix, making things worse by bringing up clothes, something she could talk about for hours. “Next time they send me coupons, I’ll forward them to you. They’re mostly online so you don’t have to go into the store.”

“That would be wonderful. I just recently discovered online shopping, which would have made my life—”

“Can we move on?” I snapped, rubbing my eyes, mentally counting backwards from ten. Irritation was flowing over me, not enough to send my magic up to my hands in defense, but enough for a migraine to begin growing behind my eyeballs.

An identical look to Cadence’s know-it-all expression filled Felix’s face. It was smug. “Judging by your impatience, Bartholomew, I assume you’ve found something out with your caseload?”

“Goldie, I swear to Judas,” I seethed in a hiss, uncaring if Felix heard me or not. He had good hearing, so I could be assured that he definitely picked up on the rage in my voice. “Take over, please, because if I talk to him. . .” I squeezed my hands together, pretending to choke him, wishing I could properly wring his neck.

His smirk made me get off the bed and walk over to my duffel bag, unpacking everything out of anger. “Sorry about Barty,” Goldie murmured behind me, her eyes drilling a hole into my skull, a hard glare that was tangible. “He didn’t sleep well last night, and then he drove us basically to Atlanta.” As she filled Felix in on everything that happened during the day, he remained quiet, taken in by her story.

She did a good job of making me seem much cooler and far more intelligent than I really was.

“So we didn't really get a name from our victim's friends," she started, unlocking her phone. "However, we do have a picture of the suspect, and the friends both said that she was someone who was passing through town. Hang on, I'll send it to you. She's the one who looks like she's cosplaying Fran Fine."

There was some fumbling on Felix's end as he checked his texts. Then, softly, "Oh, not her."

"You know her?"

And if Felix knew something about the suspect, I knew this wouldn’t be the only time we’d be speaking about this.

Felix was silent, though I heard him shift on his side of the line. Returning to my spot beside Goldie, just to see his reaction, I saw what could only be described as a flustered expression on my boss for the first time since knowing him. "Her name is Madeline Castor." It was impossible for him, but it looked like he blanched. “She’s my ex-girlfriend.”

Neither Goldie nor I could hold back our stunned reactions, a mixture of, “what the hell” and “you can’t be serious” coming from both of us. “What the fuck do you mean, ex-girlfriend? Like how recently?” I asked, turning the laptop towards me now. I could barely get over him wearing fun solar system pajamas, and now he was saying that he actually put himself out there enough to date someone.

“I mean she’s a girl I used to date,” he said slowly, narrowing his eyes at me like I was an idiot. “It was a long time ago, in the seventies, for a few years.” He looked conflicted, a shadow passing his features, his eyes now avoiding us. “She may be part of this, but she didn’t kill anyone, not unless she’s changed since we last talked about a decade ago.”

“How do you know for sure?”

“We met at a march for peace to protest the Vietnam War. We’re both pacifists.”

“Oh, yeah, couldn’t tell that with how much you love the whole criminal rehabilitation thing.”

“Do you really want to discuss that or this case, Bartholomew? Because we can talk about both, but you’re going to need your sleep for what I’m going to have you do next.” He almost sounded annoyed with me. Almost. Like a parent trying to be patient with a child. It was a voice I was used to with my parents.

“What do you need us to do?” Marigold cut in, stealing back her laptop.

“Tomorrow, you’re going to Dahlonega where Luis was killed. See if Madeline was involved in that or not, just so I have all of the information I need to bring her in.” He shifted again, his expression distant. “When we get off this call, I’m going to contact her. It’s been quite some time since I’ve talked to her, but. . .” His voice was low and gravely, reminding me of someone who was about to cry.

A twinge of sympathy rolled over me then quickly exterminated itself when I reminded myself who I was talking to. Vampires didn’t deserve sympathy.

Fixing his face, he pulled himself together to appear like his usual self, vaguely concerned and too gentle, like he was afraid of breaking his face with certain expressions. Eyebrows slightly raised. Lips parted enough to check if his fangs had popped. Big doe eyes. “Thank you for finding out this information and getting right to it. I’m impressed with your work, both of you.” His eyes shifted down to his lap, pursing his lips. “But please understand, we may have to make adjustments with who is going to be working this case if I’m going to be contacting Madeline. I may be more helpful than you think.”

Gnashing my teeth together, I nodded, folding my arms over my chest. “I figured as much,” I mumbled, my pride going to have to take a few hits if we wanted to solve these murders. “I mean, I would rather choke on my own sp—Ow!”

Marigold’s elbow in my side never felt good, her elbow the boniest part about her. “I’m excited that we get to work with you, Felix,” she continued brightly, elbow poised for another strike if I needed it. My mouth stayed closed. “We’ll drive up to Dahlonega tomorrow and sniff around there for anything about Madeline. But, I mean, what do you think? I know you said she was a pacifist, but people do change. Is it possible for her to be involved with the murders?"

Felix hummed some, thinking to himself. It was an annoying habit he had, sometimes doing it in meetings. “Madeline is a. . .complex, complicated woman. If she wants something done, she does it without regards to anyone else. Her being willing to have her picture taken the same night a demon was murdered was done with intent, that much I do know."

“I can't believe you dated someone who was actually entertai—Ow! Fuck you, Goldie, damn.”

On the screen, Felix was covering his mouth with his pajama-covered hand, playing off his amused smile with a cough. Anyone else but him made that look cute. “Oh, Bartholomew, you and I have yet to work together. This will be fun.”

This was textbook sadism, if anyone were to ask me.

That night, while Marigold snored softly in the queen bed next to mine, I laid awake, staring at the lights beyond the curtained window, listening to the sounds of the freeway. In the pit of my stomach, hot waves of anxiety rolled wildly, making it difficult for me to breathe right.

Who the fuck had ever heard of a demon with an anxiety disorder? My dad had a field day with that one when I told him I had been diagnosed with GAD after my vampire encounter and had a prescription for Klonopin for when it got severe. Some things, magic couldn’t solve.

Currently, it wouldn’t fix how my mind kept going back to the images in the photos or how Felix had suddenly involved himself with this. I tried to close my eyes and push it all away. I should have been ready to pass out from my lack of sleep from the night before.

It never happened. I had to keep feeling my horns to assure myself that they were there and not cut from my skull. What were they used for when they were taken? Was it like a demonic equivalent to people using elephant and rhino horns?

And Madeline. Madeline the vampire that Felix had dated, who was trying to get us to follow her. I didn’t know her endgame, my stomach clenching as a litany of possibilities flitted through my mind, my breathing rising and falling faster than I could control it.

But seriously, he dated people? He didn’t just go home and watch PBS or play Solitaire or whatever it else it was boring, lonely people did? Even more importantly, he had dated someone more recently than I had. How the fuck did that happen? The last time I had dated someone, the US was coming out of the Korean War.

Familiar loneliness made me curl in on myself. I never faced these emotions. I didn’t like emotions, not like these ones. They were too fiddly and complicated.

I had the worst feeling that this was going to be a common theme until this case was over.

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