Chapter Text
Mixed tapes in one pocket, walkman in another, Stein stalked his way to the other side of town. Part of the reason he decided on the hospital was to try and curb some of his vices. But with the stress of trying to connect with Marie and now being temporarily blind, he needed... something. He wasn't sure what yet, but it would probably clean him out of any cash he had saved.
It's not going to work though, is it? The voice in his head said. You can try all you want to keep me out, but it never works.
He laughed out loud, causing a couple of curfew-breakers to jump. First years or dorm dwellers, probably. They're souls felt boring, though. Everything seemed boring right now.
But Madness isn't... why not play with them? You have a knife with you. Their blood would quench the feelings...
The further he walked into town, the closer he got to the academy, the louder and more urgent the voice sounded. He noticed the creatures popping up around him, despite his vision, despite knowing they weren't real. He stepped on one, still laughing as it died with a squeak and a pop. It left psychedelic colors on the pavement. He froze, staring at it in delight for several minutes.
The starting of a car brought him back to his senses, loud enough over his music. The blood smear faded from view, having never existed in the first place. He took a deep breath, maintaining his methodical pace. He knew that the things he could see and hear didn't exist. He understood that from a young age, when all it took was stitching his clothes back together to calm himself down.
Now? Now it was chemicals, cuts, sex, alcohol. Another boring thing, he thought, pulling out a cigarette. Addiction. Mentally ill, with addiction. How cliché could he get? Not that Darnell cared. He'd take anyone's money, as long as it was legit. And he was always more than happy to take Stein's.
No one in the city knew where Darnell had come from, or what exactly he was. He claimed that he was not in fact a witch, nor did he have any magical relatives, but the stuff he could get was far beyond the average street drug. Then again, nothing about Death City was average.
Stein was finally in the bowels of the city, glad to be away from the academy. He knew he should be grateful that Narrow and Ford found him and brought him in, but by Death he hated it. The needling of hundreds of souls was bad enough, but there was something deeply disturbing about the building itself.
He knocked rhythmically on the door of an unassuming house and was met with a clear 'come in'. He pushed the door open with an irritated grunt. If Darnell didn't answer, that usually meant he had customers.
“Well, hiya, Frankie!” He called over the counter. The house wasn't totally set up like a shop, but it was close enough to not be homey. The customers turned to look at him in distaste. Their souls felt vaguely familiar and pissed off, so he could only assume it was someone he'd gotten into a fight (tried to dissect) with.
“Right, well, thanks, Darnell.” It was a feminine voice, again unfamiliar. Her soul was definitely bristling. Stein grinned as the woman and her companion bustled past him, undoubtedly trying to leave his presence as soon as they could.
“Have a... good night...” Darnell called, lamely.
Stein waited a moment while the shopkeeper shuffled some papers around, mostly likely cash. The ding of the register proved him right.
“You know, you're a great customer and all, but you tend to drive away business.” He chided.
Stein shrugged. “Not my fault if people don't like me.”
Darnell frowned. “Right... well, pick your poison.”
Stein remembered the first time he'd met Darnell. He was 13 and Spirit was 15. They'd heard about Darnell from an upperclassman. A broad, chubby man with dark skin, a well kept beard and dreadlocks all the way down his back. More than one student of ill repute admitted to crushing on him, which Stein did not understand. He was literally just a guy.
He was nice. He offered a service that no one else in Death City could, or would. Perhaps they feared Death too much. Maybe they could feel him watching, counting sins.
“'Course, anyone with a brain would know that's stupid.” Darnell had said. “He rules over life and death, not over how many sins a person commits.”
“What about kishins?” Spirit had asked, smug.
Darnell chuckled. “You can be a sinner and not be a kishin.”
The conversation had ended there, though it was still unclear why Darnell decided to set up shop in Death City.
“The usual?” He asked Stein, breaking the boy out of his reverie.
“Um, no. I need...” He thought about what he needed, what could take him away from this noise, this scrabbling in his head.
“How about you just sit and I’ll bring you a beer.” Darnell offered, steering Stein to the broken down couch.
“Yeah.” He muttered.
He heard a thump, some rustling, and a click-hiss. Darnell thrust the beer into the teen’s hands.
“Haven’t seen you in a bit, zombie.” Darnell sat back down on his counter stool. “Heard you got dumped by that ditzy ginger. Got a new weapon yet?”
Stein took a swig and laughed. “You know I got ‘dumped’ - “ he was not above using air quotes “but you don’t know who I got reassigned to? Gotta try harder, Darnell.”
“I can’t keep my ear to the pavement all day, you know.” Darnell replied as the door tinkled open. “Hi, welcome.”
Stein tuned out the noise of retail and focused on the taste of beer. A horrible taste, really, but it was better than nothing. The door tinkled again and then it was blissfully silent.
“You know everything about everyone.” Stein said. “But no one knows where you come from. All that anyone knows is that you weren’t born in Death City.”
“No one is born in Death City.” He said. “It’s kind of in the name.”
This, they knew, was not true. While a birth had not occurred in centuries in the city, that streak had been broken and they both knew by who.
“Keeping a low profile is what keeps me here.” Darnell said. “Safest place in the world.”
Stein snorted. “That can’t possibly be right.”
“Believe what you want, zombie.” He chuckled lightly. “There’s things out there beyond your kishins.”
“Madness?” Stein grinned sardonically.
Darnell nodded. “Sure. Madness. But don’t think it’s the only thing out there that wants you - wants this place - gone.”
Stein finished his beer and pondered that. More than Madness? If Darnell knew something…
“Death knows.” He said, before Stein could speak. “Death knows all.”
If only that was as comforting a thought to Stein as it was to Darnell.