Chapter Text
Neither Shoto nor Mysta live in our city, so when Vox asks me if they can come over to talk about their case, I’m a little surprised.
“They’re here?” I ask.
“On their way from the next city over - they think they have a lead here, but they need a place to stay. I offered up the couch and the guest room, so they don’t have to pay for a hotel room,” he worries his brow. “You don’t mind, do you?”
“No, not at all. When will they be here?”
“A few hours.”
“A few hours?” I worry my brow, too. “That’s not a lot of time to get things set up, Vox. We’ll need extra groceries, get the guest room set-up with clean sheets-”
“Don’t worry. Mysta and Shoto will be more than willing to help with all of that, I imagine,” he says with an awkward smile. “I’m sorry I didn’t ask sooner, but they just called to ask me. So we’re both in the lurch.”
“What about Luca?” I think aloud. “Isn’t he living here now?”
“He’s still . . . ‘asserting’ himself,” Vox says. “So he and Lucy are busy. To be fair, Mysta and Shoto asked him first - he just couldn’t.”
“Fair. Well, we might as well get a move on, if we’re going to be hosting them.”
The ‘few hours’ seem to fly by before there’s a knock on the apartment door. I’m sitting on the couch working on an article, so I let Vox answer the door. I look up to see him greeting Mysta with a hug, and the same for a figure I don’t recognize with - well - a mostly purple colour scheme. Even his hair is purple; I’m a little surprised, but given the longer hold Vox keeps around him, I can only assume it’s Shoto.
“Sorry for the short notice,” Mysta says as he practically sprawls on the couch next to me, head tilted back and eyes seemingly closed behind his round sunglasses. He’s the picture of exhaustion; I wave at him from my seat and scoot over to make room for him, and he hums in thanks.
“Yeah, yeah, make yourselves comfortable,” Vox half-jokes as he gestures to the living space. “Let me grab some chairs from the dining room and we’ll all have a chat, alright?”
“Thanks, Vox,” Shoto says to him. He looks to me and gives a smile. “You’re Tanaka, right? I’m-”
“-Shoto. I gathered who you are; Vox talks highly of you,” I say. I watch as Shoto blushes.
“Does he, now . . .”
“Why wouldn’t I?” Vox asks, carrying over a chair and putting it across from the couch. “You know I’ll always have a soft spot for you, Shoto.”
“D-Don’t say shit like that!” he snipes at him, before plopping himself down in the chair and sighing. “Thanks for the chair . . .”
“Both of you look tired,” I say, finally closing my laptop. “Is it about the case?”
“It is. Our target’s in the city somewhere, committing more murders. What’s worse - it’s a supernatural affair, and it’s not a demon,” Mysta sighs. “I feel like that would make things easier if it was.”
“Don’t say that,” Vox warns as he carries over his own chair and sits, leaning forward. “Demons are a nefarious bunch. I should know.”
“Me too,” I say. “I’ve been the target of demons twice now.”
“Most of them are cold-hearted bastards,” Shoto says, only eyeing Vox a little as he says it. “With . . . a few exceptions.”
“I’ve gathered,” I answer. “Anything we can help with, let us know. I’m not anything as useful as you guys, but I can at least keep this place tidy enough to make you at home.”
“Malewife, much?” Mysta cracks open an eye to look at me, only to laugh when I go to elbow him in the side. Rude.
“No, I’m just the less busy of the two of us. And like I said, the less useful. I’m not a demon, a demon slayer, or a detective. I’m just a writer with a knack for attracting trouble.”
“Nothing we couldn’t handle,” Vox replies to me. My cheeks warm as I remember. “You’re a lot safer now. And hopefully while you two are here, Shoto-”
“-maybe I can figure out how to help you not be a . . . well . . . a beacon for them,” he replies. He looks me over. I feel my face go even hotter. “You really do feel . . . off. Something about your mana. It feels very, very old.”
“Doesn’t it?” Vox asks. I’m surprised by how quickly he spits it out; Shoto looks to him and nods.
“Well, it’s hard to say. They might be the descendent of other demon beacons, or something of that ilk. I’d have to consult the dark web.”
“You can find this stuff on the dark web?” I ask. Mysta nods and sits up, before reaching over and just grabbing the computer off my lap. He cracks it open and then cracks his knuckles, before typing away.
“It’s not hard to get into - you just need a browser and the right codes. Let me check my usual files; I have them uploaded onto my server back home,” Mysta says. I raise a brow.
“You know about all this supernatural stuff too?”
“Who do you think fed him half of his information?” Vox answers. “Either way, anything we can get our hands on would be helpful. What can you tell us?”
“It’s not a demon - which means we don’t actually know much beyond that,” Shoto says. “The murders are spread out across the city, so the cops haven’t noticed any patterns yet. This thing - whatever it is - moved faster than we anticipated.”
“Most of the victims go missing for a few days before ending up back near their homes, bled out. Usual wound is a gunshot to the neck, so it’s certainly not a quick death,” Mysta says, as if we were just talking about something casual and not a series of violent deaths. I swallow and look to Vox. He seems intrigued, less grossed out than maybe I am. Then again, he’s lived a lot longer than I have, and has seen a lot more.
“W-Well,” I say, “If it’s a gunshot wound, wouldn’t that suggest that these are human attacks?”
“That’s what we thought, before I got around the scenes,” Shoto answers. “The aura of the places feel off. And the bodies are supernaturally tainted in some way. Whatever it is, it’s not human.”
“So not demon, and not human,” Vox sighs and leans back in his chair. “Still isn’t a lot to go off of.”
“If only we had bait - something we could follow. A better, active lead,” Mysta mutters. “I wonder if could hire somebody for that.”
“No, you cannot!” I say. “That’s too far, Mysta.”
“. . . you remind me of Ike,” he mutters. I sigh.
“Yeah, and he’d tell you the same thing. If this thing isn’t human or demon, then why not ask Shu for help? Isn’t he a sorcerer?”
“And Luca could put out feelers in the mafia,” Vox suggests as well. Mysta nods along, clearly considering it, though lost in thought as he looks at the screen of my computer.
“Both solid ideas,” he answers. “Shu’s not here though, and I worry that we wouldn’t have enough time to get him here. Luca, though - that might be an option, once he finishes setting up.”
“I just fear we don’t have enough time,” Shoto mutters. Everybody goes lost in thought; I lean back on the couch, considering myself, too. I’m not helpful here - not like everybody else, with their innate skills and abilities. It’s driving me a little mad. All I can do is offer suggestions- unless . . .
“What if we use me as bait?”
Vox shoots up out of his chair. “Out of the question,” he almost shouts. I recoil; I’ve never seen him so . . . frightened, before. His face is etched in anger, but I know enough to see beneath it, and the suggestion just-
“Well, what else can I do to help?” I ask. “If I’m a beacon, maybe I’m a beacon for lots of things. Maybe this thing, whatever it is, goes after me next? If I had a tracking device, or something like that-”
“No,” He shakes his head. “I would never allow you to be in that sort of danger. I love you too much for that.”
I feel my face go flush again. “Well, what role do you recommend I take here, then?”
“You don’t need to do anything for us,” Shoto says with a strained smile. “Like you said, just keeping a home base for us would be great. We wouldn’t want to put you in danger intentionally, like Vox said.”
“Actually-” Mysta speaks up, before Vox shoots him an evil look.
“We are not putting Tanaka in danger. That is final.”
The power he puts into his words is so thick that it nearly wallops into me; I stare at him wide-eyed, stunned at how . . . vehement . . . he is. Then again, I’d offered to put myself on a plate of a murderer. Still . . .
“I’m . . . sorry,” I say, slowly standing up and approaching him, though he’s so tense I’m scared to touch him, lest he shatter. “I didn’t mean to upset you. You- you know I just want to be helpful.”
“There are other ways to be helpful,” He answers, looking down to me with eyes intermingling with the same heterochromia that tells me he’s seriously tapping into some of his demonic power. “You’re not going to sacrifice yourself for anybody’s sake. You understand?”
I swallow. “I . . . yes, my lord.”
“Good.”
The room goes silent for a moment as we all adjust, and as Vox calms down. After a few moments, I finally touch his arm, feeling him beginning to loosen up just slightly. He takes a slow breath, in, then out. Then he turns to me and pulls me into his arms, holding me so tightly it feels like I’ll never draw a breath again.
“. . . so,” Mysta says slowly. “Pizza?”