Archive of Our Own

A paper is set down in front of him, causing Grian to stare at it with furrowed brows. The paper is blank, stark white. “Uh…” 

It’s only been a few days since they stopped by Ren and Martyn’s. When Grian first arrived at Mumbo’s manor, Mumbo had sat him down in his study and ran off to grab something. Apparently that something was paper, among other things. The last time they had spoken, Mumbo mentioned making plans for paying the Black Market a visit. 

In front of him is Mumbo, who looks at Grian with a quiet sigh. Though, if Grian looks closely enough at his face, he can see the amusement in his eyes. As Mumbo settles into the chair across from Grian, he sets down a fountain pen beside it, as well as a book. “It’s not just any kind of paper. It’s waxed,” he replies.

“Right…” Grian looks down at the paper again, noticing the shiny coating on it. Still, Mumbo’s lackluster explanation does little to help his bewilderment. So he asks, “Why exactly are you giving me wax paper?”

Mumbo sighs, “We’re going to create a communication glyph. This way it’ll be much easier to communicate with one another should the need arise.” He taps the paper with his finger, “Since I don’t have a fancy cell phone that you humans seem to love so much, I figured these would be helpful. And considering we’ll be paying a little visit to the black market in a few days, it’d be best to go in prepared.”

“It’s that soon?” Grian questions. Hadn’t Ren and Martyn just mentioned it to them a few days ago? 

“It is, yes. Supernaturals tend to gather every Friday and sell their wares in the market, and I don’t see any point in wasting time,” Mumbo answers truthfully. “The sooner we look into the enchantments the better. I’ve already talked to Doc about it and he’s in agreement.”  

“So how do these things work? Do you have to recite a spell or something? A ritual? A chant?” Grian asks, thinking about all of his fantasy knowledge. Granted, most of it has come from books he’s read, but it’s better than nothing, right? 

He picks  up the paper holding it in his hands. It certainly feels like wax, and it’s a bit thicker than normal paper. A sudden thought strikes him and he looks at Mumbo, “Do we need to sacrifice something?” 

“No, no, no and goodness gracious, no!” Mumbo laughs, shaking his head. He reaches over and sets his hand on the top of the paper, gently encouraging Grian to lower it back on the table. “Glyphs are easy ways for anyone without innate magic to use magic. Think of them like batteries holding a charge,” he explains. “Most glyphs are easy to draw and learn, but there are some that are more difficult. Communication glyphs usually fall in the second category, since they tend to be more personalized.” Glancing down at the book he set on the table, Mumbo continues, “This book here has every legal glyph combination written down so that people can learn them. There’s… well, there’s more than we can count, really. Probably over thousands of them at least.” 

Grian looks at the book with curiosity, and Mumbo wordlessly offers it to him. Grian doesn’t hesitate to take it, flipping it open and going through the pages. He gleams a few different glyphs like fire and water and even earth. He even spots a glyph for a sleeping spell. As he flicks through, the glyphs get more and more complicated, with more intricate lines and circles and little words. “There is a lot to this, oh wow,” Grian breathes, a bit in awe. 

“Well there is quite a bit of magic out there,” Mumbo chuckles. “Though we don’t need to worry about other glyphs right now. We can come back to them later if you want,” he offers, and Grian nods. He shuts the book and sets it down before focusing on Mumbo again. 

“So, how do we do this, Mumbolio?” Grian questions, the nickname causing Mumbo to do a double take. He looks like he’s torn between asking or leaving it, to which Grian meets his gaze and offers a cheeky smile. 

Shaking his head, Mumbo elects not to question it. He instead picks up the fountain pen, “I’m going to draw the glyph on this,” he taps the paper with the point of the pen, “with something special to only you. And then later I’ll take the wax and melt it onto something.”

“Will that destroy it?” Grian asks, confused. Why go through the trouble of drawing it just to melt it?

“It won’t,” Mumbo replies confidently. “Glyphs are similar to enchantments in which you can put them on anything. But whereas enchantments are a language, glyphs just need a bit of magic to combine with something. I can melt the paper down, take the magic at its core, and imbue it into an object. Imbuing it will make it permanent, so I won’t have to redraw it every time we need to use it.”  

“Oh,” Grian replies blankly. 

Mumbo chuckles at his response before turning his attention to the paper on the table. “Now, I’ll need something to associate you with… hm.” His eyes flicker over to Grian, who seems to go ramrod still as Mumbo stares. His hands sit in his lap, balled up in little fists as he doesn’t move. He isn’t quite sure why he freezes the way he does, it’s almost comical. But there’s just something about Mumbo’s eyes locked on him that has his breath stilling and slowing. 

They enter a mock staring contest, except it doesn’t end when one of them blinks (though Grian tries very hard not to). Mumbo sets his hand on his chin as he hums, gaze narrowed and focused as he thinks. 

After a moment of silence, it seems to come to him. “I’ve got it!” he suddenly exclaims, causing Grian to jump in surprise. 

Mumbo drops his gaze and hurries to begin drawing on the paper. Grian leans in, curious as the vampire draws two circles; a large one, and a smaller one within that. He draws with practiced ease, as if he’s been doing this for years. Which… maybe he has. 

With the circles drawn, Mumbo begins to draw smaller lines and little symbols, ones that make Grian’s head spin. But then, right in the middle of circles, Mumbo begins to draw a small bird. Grian blinks at the sight of it. The details are all so intricate, and it’s a surprisingly well drawn bird.  

Pulling back, Mumbo sets the fountain pen down on the table with a small nod. He pushes it toward Grian so he can have a look for himself. 

Grian studies the glyph, watching the way the lines curve and connect. It’s all very elegant. His eyes are specifically drawn to the bird in the middle. “A bird?” he asks, looking at Mumbo. 

“Mm, yes. Considering you’re rather persistent and pesky like one, I thought it fit nicely,” Mumbo answers, something light and mischievous in his tone. There’s a playful yet pleased glint in those ruby red eyes of his as he looks at Grian. 

For his part, Grian just laughs. He gently traces his finger along the bird, “You’re good at drawing. Does that also come with the whole glyph thing?” 

Mumbo turns a bit sheepish at his question, glancing away as he rubs the back of his neck. His silky black strands fall over his arm as he does so. “Er… no. That’s really just an old habit I picked up,” he explains, sounding a bit hesitant. Grian looks at him, but doesn’t push. He gets the feeling that it’s a little personal to him. 

“Well it’s quite nice,” Grian compliments him instead, leaning back in his seat. “So what now? Is that it?” 

“Oh, yes, for now. I’ll draw up a matching one for myself and find something to imbue the glyphs into,” Mumbo replies, nodding. He hums in thought, “Are you allergic to any metals?” 

“Huh? Oh, no, I don’t think I am,” Grian answers, causing Mumbo to nod in return. 

“Right then. I have a few ideas to toy with. Though for now we can go over how these things exactly work if you’d like to.” Mumbo smiles lightly, grabbing the paper and putting it to the side. As he does, a curious noise sounds from him, as if he’s just realized something. “Didn’t you say you had to be back home by four?” 

Grian immediately directs his gaze to the clock on the wall, checking the time. He winces, seeing it’s three forty. “Yikes, I hadn’t realized.” He stands from his chair, “I hate to just get up and run out, but Taurtis is being discharged today and he’s going home tomorrow…” he trails off, a small frown forming on his face. 

Mumbo waves away his concern, “It’s alright. You should go,” he encourages, and Grian smiles.

“Thanks, Mumbo! We’ll talk more next time!” 

The Friday they’re set to pay a visit to the black market, Mumbo dangles a chain in front of Grian’s face. On the chain is a gemstone, one that shines a bright red. He hands it to Grian with no explanation, simply expecting Grian to just take it. 

“What’s that?” he questions as Mumbo holds the red gem out to him. It’s small, something unobtrusive and easy to conceal. It matches the one on his earring, much to Grian’s curiosity. He takes it from the vampire, carefully holding it in his palm. The silver chain piles neatly in his hand, hanging over the side of his fingers. 

“That is the object I’ve put your glyph into,” Mumbo responds, “I thought jewelry would be the easiest for us to use, especially since it’s easy to conceal. And considering you seem to love running into danger, I figured it would be best.” 

“I don’t always run into danger!” Grian squawks, and Mumbo levels him with an unimpressed look. “Sometimes it just finds me instead!” 

“Right. That’s why you followed a strange cat to a seemingly abandoned manor, or followed me when I was interrogating someone. Or–”

“Okay, okay, point taken!” Grian cuts him off, pouting slightly. 

Mumbo grins in victory. Though the grin doesn’t last long, for a more anxious expression takes over his face. He glances at Grian and then at the necklace in his hands, and he seems to fiddle with his hands, “Is erm… is it alright? If you don’t like it I can do something else with it.” 

Grian hears the underlying tone of uncertainty and nerves in his voice, mainly in how his voice seems to shake slightly. It’s a very subtle sound, though Grian picks up on it with ease. He feels like he’s seeing so many new sides of Mumbo, and this one? This shakable confidence, this uncertainty he seems to carry around with him. It’s hard to miss at first, considering Mumbo has always appeared to be cold and detached. But as Grian is coming to learn, Mumbo is someone with a very kind heart. 

It makes him smile faintly. He holds the necklace out to Mumbo, “Mind putting it on for me?” he offers. Mumbo seems to look at him in surprise, eyes widening just a fraction. The sudden request catches even himself off guard, but Grian makes sure it doesn’t show on his face. 

“O-Oh,” Mumbo swallows thickly, and Grian wonders if it’s simply a trick of the light or if he really is beginning to sweat. He reaches out for the necklace, “Of course not.” 

Grian’s smile grows into a soft grin and he puts his back to Mumbo. He doesn’t even think twice about it. Not as he’s picking up his long strands of hair, brushing it to the side of his neck. His hair isn’t all that long, just enough that he can put it up in a bun should he want to. It’s how he normally wears his hair. 

Mumbo inhales quietly, watching Grian. His skin is a healthy pale, and he almost has the urge to reach out and feel Grian’s skin beneath his fingers. He wonders if it’d feel as smooth as it looks. He quickly shakes his head, admonishing himself for thinking anything like that. 

His heart thumps in his chest, and he glances down at the necklace in his hands. He finds himself feeling a bit elated over the fact that Grian likes it. Letting himself lead with old muscle memory, Mumbo takes either end of the chain and holds it apart. Grian’s arms rest at his sides and Mumbo carefully sets it over him, placing the chain against his skin. There’s a few strands that fall in his way, and with airy touches, he brushes the strands away. It feels so familiar, and Mumbo’s heart aches. 

He goes to open the clasp, though he fumbles with the chain and it slips out of his hold. The chain lands against Grian’s neck, causing Grian to laugh. Embarrassed, Mumbo quickly grabs hold of the chain and tries a second time. His fingers do brush against Grian’s skin, and he feels how warm it is. He manages to get the clasp open and catch it on the chain securely. 

“T-There,” Mumbo stammers slightly, coughing to cover up his sudden overwhelming nerves. His hands are shaky, and Mumbo tries to get it under control. What in the world is he so nervous for? 

Grian moves to tie his hair up as he turns around with a smile. “Thanks!” he chirps, as if completely oblivious to Mumbo’s inner turmoil. Grian holds the gem between his hands, “So how do these work exactly?” 

Thankful for the distraction, Mumbo exhales silently. “Well, they work just as phones do. We can communicate no matter the distance, and it doesn’t take any magic from myself or you. Though they can be scrambled by someone else’s magic,” he explains.

Nodding, Grian glances at the earring on Mumbo’s pointed ear, “Do I just speak into it?” 

Mumbo laughs at his question, “You don’t have to do that, no. Just surround it in your palm if you want to activate it. With these we have the ability to just speak out loud, or,” he stops. 

Grian lifts a brow, “Or?” 

“We can also communicate like this.” Mumbo’s voice sounds in his head, startling Grian. He jumps in surprise, looking at Mumbo with giant eyes. 

“What?!” he exclaims, “Do that again!” 

“Do what again?” 

Grian laughs, “That’s so cool! It’s like a private call but actually private!” 

Mumbo smiles at him, his amusement written quite clearly on his face. “Yes, it’s quite handy in a dangerous situation,” he hums. “And it’ll be perfect for the market. Which, speaking of, we should get going if we don’t want to miss it.” 

Grian glances out the window and is greeted by darkness outside. He turns back to Mumbo, “Where is it exactly? It’s not in town, is it?” He feels like he’d remember seeing a big market, or at least he’d remember hearing about it. 

Mumbo grabs his tail coat and slips it over his shoulders. He tugs on his lapels, adjusting his cravat as he readies to leave the manor. “Not quite.” 

“It’s underground?!” Grian exclaims as they approach a large entrance. 

When Mumbo had led Grian to the sewers, he had definitely been suspicious. If they were going to a market in the sewer system of Aqua Town, Grian would’ve just felt bad for everyone else. But Mumbo had led him through the tunnels and down an old stone staircase, telling him to wait. And to Grian’s surprise, the tunnel had opened up to a large underground space. 

Large archways stand tall, connecting to stone ceilings. Lights shine overhead, their glow warm and low. People mill around, and there are stalls set up all over the place. Some stands look like they’ve been built and actually placed into the ground or attached to the wall, while others are very clearly pop up stands. Grian can hear all sorts of sounds, screeching animals, people arguing, random chatter from those walking past them. 

Perhaps the most curious thing is the kinds of people Grian sees. There are some who look human like he is, and then there are others who, like Mumbo, are humanoid in shape. And then there are some… that don’t look human at all. Grian tries not to stare, but he’s so fascinated.  

He looks over at Mumbo with surprise, “You’re telling me that all of this has been underneath the town this whole time?!” 

“Probably since Aqua Town has been established, yes.” Mumbo nods in return, and Grian stares in awe. “It’s been a while since I’ve been down here before… I hope they haven’t changed things around too much.” 

“No way! Is that who I think it is? Mumbo!” 

Blinking, the pair turn around. When Grian makes eye contact with the approaching figure, his jaw drops. “Impulse?!” he exclaims, pointing a finger at him. “What in the world are you doing here?!” 

Impulse stops, looking at Grian. He seems to freeze in place, as if he’s been caught doing something he shouldn’t be. Had the circumstances been different, Grian probably would’ve laughed at him. But Impulse’s eyes have gone wide, face blanching just a bit. “G-Grian… hey…” he greets weakly, “I uh… oh geez, this isn’t how I thought this would go,” he seems to mutter to himself. 

Mumbo looks between them, “Do you two know each other?” 

“My sister works for him,” Grian answers, glancing over at Mumbo before looking back at Impulse. “What are you doing here, Impulse?” he asks once again. Of all the people he expected to see down here, Impulse definitely wasn’t one of them. 

Sighing, Impulse’s shoulders sag in what Grian guesses in defeat. “Well I guess there’s no point in hiding it,” he mumbles. “Follow me,” he prompts, motioning them along with his hand. Mumbo and Grian share a look before walking to follow him. 

Impulse leads them through the crowd, walking with the typical confidence that Grian sees him using at the bar. On the nights where Grian would stay and hang out with Pearl and Impulse during their shifts, he’d watch the man. Impulse walked around the bar like he was the top dog, back straight and shoulders relaxed. He mirrors that walk now, as he weaves around people walking around. It’s a dead giveaway to Grian that Impulse is no stranger to the Black Market scene. Which is… curious. 

Grian has a little trouble walking around in the crowd, bumping shoulders with someone here and there. He winces at some dirty looks he gets, and Mumbo has to grab his arm so he doesn’t fall behind.

Eventually they reach a less populated area, where there are a few pop up stands still in the process of setting up. Impulse brings them over to one such stand, and Grian looks at it. There’s a black tarp set up over a table, yellow text over the top of the front. iBuy Apples the words read, and Grian looks at it with interest. Impulse looks sheepish as he addresses them, “Sorry about the mess. Still not quite set up.” 

“You’ve got a stand here?” Mumbo questions, jerking back as he stares at Impulse. 

“Sure do!” Impulse responds cheerfully. “This place isn’t my favorite scene, but a man’s gotta get coin somehow.” He shrugs. 

“Hang on, I think we’re missing the obvious question here!” Grian cuts in, causing both men to look at him. “Impulse knows about this place!” 

Despite Grian’s clear confusion, Mumbo doesn’t look all that bothered by the information. “Of course he does, mate.” 

“Why aren’t you more surprised by that?!” Grian groans, voice edging on frustration. 

Impulse chuckles, though the sound is twinged by awkwardness. “Well uh, that’s because Mumbo and I go way back,” he says, making Grian whip his head toward the man. “I guess now is as good a time as any to admit that I’m not exactly human?” 

“Huh?!” Grian exclaims, jaw dropping. “What?!” 

Another laugh leaves Impulse as he nods his head. “Yeah, uh, I’m a demon, suuuper far from human,” he confesses, and Grian simply stares at him. “I was hoping you’d uh, never find out. So when Pearl mentioned you were looking into vampires… yeah.” 

Honestly, Grian feels kind of speechless. He never would have expected Impulse of all people to be a demon. The guy is so nice! “That’s… huh.” Though he guesses it makes sense, considering that conversation they had. It makes sense why Impulse was so concerned about Grian staying safe – he was speaking from experience. “A lot of things are starting to make sense now,” he comments, making Impulse chuckle. 

“You’re not the only one surprised, G! Of all the vampires in town, I definitely didn’t expect to see you with Mumbo!” Impulse exclaims before sheepishly looking over at said vampire, “Uh, no offense man. Honestly I’m sort of glad that it’s you and not someone else.” 

“None taken,” Mumbo mumbles in response. “He was quite determined to befriend me.”

“And it worked!” Grian points out to him, looking at Mumbo with pride. He looks back to Impulse, “So if you’re a demon… how do you look all human like?” 

“Oh, that’s simple!” Impulse perks up, “I use a glamour to hide my horns and tail,” he explains. “I’d show you, but maybe if there weren’t so many people around,” Impulse weaky chuckles. He looks at the pair, “Anyways, what are you both doing here?” 

“Looking for something, maybe you can help us?” Mumbo asks. 

“Hit me with it.” Impulse smiles. 

Mumbo leans in, speaking quietly, “We’re looking for anyone who sells curse of binding books.” 

Impulse’s brows knit together, forehead creasing as he looks at Mumbo. He doesn’t look happy about what they’re looking for, if the frown on his face is anything to go by. “What are you doing looking for those?” 

“We’re not planning on using them!” Grian hastily explains. He takes a glance around, seeing no one paying attention to their little trio. Either way, Grian leans in close, similarly to the way Mumbo did. “It’s related to the murders,” he explains in a hushed voice. 

“Ohhh.” Impulse nods in return, understanding flitting across his face as he does. “That makes sense, alright.” 

“I’d just go look for myself, but it’s been so long that erm… well, I don’t exactly remember,” Mumbo explains reluctantly, causing Impulse to chuckle. 

“Right, makes sense. They’ve changed the layout of the market a few years back, so nothing is in the same place anymore.” Humming, Impulse steps over to the side of his concession stand, kneeling down to dig around in his bag. Grian and Mumbo watch him as he searches before he pulls something out. “Gotcha!” He stands and turns back over to them. “Here’s a map of the place I drew up a few years ago. It should still be up to date.” 

Mumbo takes the map as it’s handed to him, “Oh, this’ll be a huge help. Thanks, Impulse.”

“It’s no problem at all!” Impulse returns, offering him a smile. Though his smile does dim a bit as he looks at Mumbo, “Just be careful about whatever you’re getting involved with. Remember it isn’t just you.” He glances to the side at Grian before looking back at Mumbo. 

Mumbo answers him with a nod before addressing Grian, “This map should make tonight a lot easier.” 

Grian grins, “Perfect.” He looks down at the map in Mumbo’s hands before a thought comes to him. He looks over at Impulse, “Impulse, can we talk real quick?” 

The demon blinks and nods, “Sure thing.” 

The two of them step to the side, leaving Mumbo to open the map and take a look at it. They walk behind the tarp of Impulse’s stand, allowing them some privacy. “What’s up G?” Impulse questions, giving him his full attention. 

Grian looks at Impulse with a frown, lips pressing together thinly. His brows are set low in concern, “I need you to do me a favor and keep this all a secret from Pearl,” he says, sounding low and serious. 

“Trust me, I had no intention of telling either of you,” Impulse swears, meeting his gaze with a stern one of his own. His eyes hold a firm gaze with Grian, “But you have my word. I won’t tell Pearl a thing.” 

Sighing in relief, Grian offers Impulse a smile, “Thank you.” Impulse stares at him oddly for a moment, and Grian tilts his head, “What?” 

“It’s nothing big, really. Just… you’re still interacting with me like normal,” Impulse points out, and Grian blinks at him. 

“Well, yeah. You’re still Impulse.” He shrugs in return. “If you were worried that I’d treat you differently or stop trusting you just because you’re a demon, then don’t be.” 

Impulse smiles at him, “Of course.” He looks over at Mumbo, nudging Grian, “You should probably get back to him. And G?” he asks, drawing a hum from Grian, “I think you’re gonna be really good for Mumbo. Just keep yourself safe too.” 

“Careful Impulse, you’ll start sounding like my dad if you keep saying stuff like that,” he jokes, and Impulse grins.

“Well I’m more than old enough!” he jokes, making Grian cackle. 

“I’ll be careful. Someone’s gotta keep that spoon out of trouble,” Grian shoots back before waving him goodbye. He walks back over to Mumbo, who’s still looking at the map given to them. “Figure anything out?” he questions.

“I think so. The enchanted items are still in relatively the same spot according to this map,” Mumbo replies, looking up at Grian. 

“Well, lead the way!” Grian gestures at him, motioning for him to start walking. 

With a little huff, Mumbo glances down at the map and takes off in what appears to be a random direction to Grian. He waves one last goodbye to Impulse before following after the vampire, falling into step beside him. He sneaks a glance down at the map in Mumbo’s hands, curious about the layout of this place. 

He leans a little into Mumbo’s space without even realizing, staring at the hand drawn map. “Dude, this place is huge!” he exclaims. The map is no small size, with different boxes drawn all over the paper. Grian spots at least seven different boxes that are labeled with the categories of concession stands, and even those have smaller boxes each labeled with the vendor’s name. It’s all color coded and organized quite neatly.

Mumbo chuckles at his surprise, “What, were you expecting a small underground market? We aren’t beneath the town for no reason, I’ll have you know.” He speaks with amusement, yet not an ounce of pride. To Grian, that feels like something to be proud of. It almost reminds him of community functions back in Evo Town. Even if he and Pearl never actively participated in their big town celebrations, he still felt a bit of pride in the work they all did. 

“You don’t know what I’ve done, Grian.”

Grian frowns at the memory before looking at Mumbo. The vampire is focused on maneuvering the crowd, brows set in determination. His red eyes blaze with his focus, and it’s almost amazing how effortlessly Mumbo bobs and weaves within the crowd. He’s staring down at the map for the most part, eyes only flickering up at the crowd every now and then. 

Unlike Mumbo, Grian can’t stare at something or someone and not walk into someone. 

While he stares at his companion, Grian isn’t quite paying attention to his surroundings. He’s too focused on studying Mumbo that he doesn’t watch where he’s going, path curving just a bit. He ends up knocking into someone, their elbow jabbing him. It causes him to stumble forward, his lower back bursting with sudden pain. 

He’s forcibly ripped from his staring at Mumbo, changing his focus to looking around for whoever he bumped into. Yet there’s so many people that it’s essentially a lost cause. They’re probably already gone, slipping into the crowd. He winces as he straightens himself out, reaching a hand around to rub at the spot he was elbowed. 

As he does this, he looks into the sea of people drifting around him. Mumbo is temporarily forgotten as his eyes catch sight of someone else, someone that causes Grian’s blood to run still. In the crowd he spots a familiar old man, green eyes and gray beard. The same old man that warned him about Taurtis the night he was attacked. He spots the man walking away from him, purple coat blowing behind him. 

The memories of that night flash through his mind, of the sick feeling that left his head swimming. He remembers the man stepping close to him, entering Grian’s space and leaving him off kilter, unsafe. He remembers those green eyes quite clearly, the way they spelled danger. But most of all, he remembers the way he sounded, so confident. So certain. The memories leave Grian burning, and he’s moving. 

He takes off running, chasing after the image of the man. He pushes his way through the crowd, determined not to lose sight of him. It’s easy to follow his purple coat since it’s such a bright color, and Grian keeps his eyes trained on it. “Hey!” he yells out to the man. He ignores anyone he knocks into, nearly stumbling a few times as he does. He trips over someone, he’s sure of it, his body tumbling toward the ground. 

Grian hastily catches himself, just narrowly avoiding colliding with the cobblestone laid in the ground. A few people side eye him, and apologies leave Grian’s mouth without his realizing. 

The old man turns a corner, and Grian just manages to make out the tail end of his coat. He has to find him, he has to know if he was involved in Taurtis’ attack. How else could he have warned Grian like that? Maybe finding him will give both himself and Mumbo a hint as to who their murderer is. Or maybe he is the murderer. Grian’s thoughts feel like they’re racing as he runs through the Black Market, body moving on adrenaline. 

He breaks out of the crowd, landing in a space that’s relatively empty of people. He pauses for a moment, looking around. His heart pounds in his ears as he pants, lungs aching as he catches his breath. Grian’s eyes scan the area he’s found himself in, head turning around as he tries to cover it all. He spots a small group of people at one of the vendors, laughing about something. In another place is a couple walking together. Somewhere else is a person just walking by themself. There’s no purple coat to be seen. 

Or so he thinks, anyway. He catches something from the corner of his eyes, a flash of bright purple rounding the corner. “Stop!” Grian shouts after the man, breaking out into a run a second time. He rushes after the old man, not thinking twice about where he’s going. The only sounds he pays attention to are that of his feet slamming against the pavement and his panting in his ears. 

He turns the corner and stops short. finding a dead end. He skids to a stop, finding nothing but a dumpster and a few trash bags set against it. There’s a cardboard box or two on the ground, but there is no old man.

“Dammit!” Grian curses, hunching over and setting his hands on his knees. He takes a few large breaths, filling his lungs with some much needed air. “I lost him,” he grumbles, standing up straight after a moment or so. He scans the alleyway once more, but ultimately finds nothing there. 

Grian sighs, “I should probably head back to Mumbo then.” He hopes the vampire won’t be too mad that he ran off. Turning around, Grian faces the crowd of people again, and realizes one very important thing. He… has no idea where he is. He had been so caught up in chasing after the old man that he hadn’t even stopped to consider his surroundings. “Oh that’s not good.” 

“Grian!” The red gem stone around his crackles to life, startling him as the vampire’s voice echoes in his head. If Mumbo ever asks, Grian did not yelp. 

He quickly takes hold of the stone, holding it in his palm, “Oh man, Mumbo I have never been happier to hear your voice,” he sighs with relief. 

“I turned around and you were gone!” Mumbo sounds a little frantic as he speaks. “Where did you even go?!” 

Grian winces, because how is he going to explain this? “I uh… someone caught my eye, and I kind of just ran after them?” 

“You what?! ” Grian winces as Mumbo practically yells in his mind. “For the love of – I should’ve put a tracking glyph on you. Are you still in the Black Market at least?” 

Grian takes a moment to look around. He’s pretty sure that he is, but the crowd definitely looks thinner where he is. “I think so? I can definitely still see some vendors from here at least.”

“Alright. From the vendors that you see, are there any names you can read? I can try to find my way over to you using Impulse’s map,” Mumbo prompts, and Grian finds himself feeling immensely grateful for these communication glyphs. 

He walks away from the alleyway, heading over to the nearest vendor that he can see. He keeps enough distance from it, not wanting the owner to think he’s interested in anything. He squints at the first vendor he sees, “There’s a stand here selling… spider eyes? Eugh.” Grian shudders. 

“Ah, you’re over by the potion stands then. Right, listen very carefully to me. Do. Not. Move.” Mumbo takes care to stress each syllable and Grian quickly nods. 

“Yes sir,” he says, mostly because he doesn’t want to risk getting even more lost here. He hears Mumbo sigh in exasperation, and despite the situation, Grian can’t help but laugh a bit. As always, he strives to be a menace to his friends. Even if this time wasn’t exactly intentional. 

Except what Grian misses, is a pair of eyes watching him from the shadows. A velvety chuckle escapes into the air, drifting along the slight breeze of the underground. They slip away.

True to his word, Grian doesn’t move from his spot. He walks around a little bit, but that’s really just so he doesn’t look awkward. He walks up and down the aisle of vendors. 

When Mumbo does eventually find him, he pins Grian in place with a deep frown. He walks right over to him, corners of his lips turned down in a deep frown. Grian awkwardly chuckles as the vampire approaches him, offering him a sheepish smile. Mumbo simply sighs at him, looking completely unamused. “You’re so lucky I had that map. It would’ve taken me ages to find you if I hadn’t,” he grumbles. 

“Sorry,” Grian apologizes, because he really hadn’t meant to run off like that. “I just saw that guy and ran without even thinking.” 

“Guy?” Mumbo questions, passing him a curious look. He raises a brow as the two of them begin walking again. Grian doesn’t know where they’re going now, but he makes sure to stick close to Mumbo this time. 

“There was this old man who warned me about Taurtis being attacked the night it happened and I thought he might have been a solid lead. Though I uh, lost track of him,” Grian explains, sighing in disappointment. 

Something in Mumbo’s expression softens at that, and he pinches the bridge of his nose. Another sigh leaves him and he directs his gaze to Grian, “Just… get my attention next time something like that happens, alright?” 

Grian’s chest swells, and he can’t help the cheeky grin that forms on his face, “Awww, were you worried about me?” Mumbo frowns at him, though Grian can see the way the tips of his ears turn red. His nonverbal response is more than enough of an answer for Grian, who simply laughs and smiles. Deciding then to take pity on the vampire, Grian changes topics, “So, where are we heading now?” 

Mumbo takes the escape rather eagerly, pulling the map from his pocket and waving it around, “I figured we could return this to Impulse before leaving.”

Grian blinks at him, “Wait, leaving? What about the curse of binding thing?” 

“Oh, I managed to find the stand. It was after I spoke with the vendor that I realized you had disappeared,” Mumbo admits, and it’s his time to be sheepish about the admittance. 

“And? Was your theory right?” Grian inquires, chuckling lightly over Mumbo’s awkwardness. With how focused the vampire had been on finding that vendor, he isn’t all that surprised.

At Grian’s question, Mumbo’s face falls and he shakes his head. “I’m afraid not. Apparently no one has been able to find anything about a curse of binding book for the past few months. This was unfortunately one big waste of time,” he sighs, voice sounding disappointed and somber. “Though I suppose we can be grateful that a binding curse isn’t involved in this.” 

Grian nods in agreement, “Yeah, and who knows! Maybe Ren and Martyn will find something.” 

Mumbo hums and their walk continues. The pair fall quiet as they find their way back over to Impulse’s stand. Mumbo has to take hold of Grian a few times to make sure he doesn’t lose him in the crowd, much to his dismay. 

“Maybe Impulse might have something to help,” Grian suddenly suggests as they walk. The stands begin to look familiar to him, and he finds himself feeling a bit relieved that they’re nearing the demon’s stand again. 

“Oh, I hadn’t thought of that,” Mumbo replies, red eyes glancing at him as they walk. “We can–”

A loud crash cuts Mumbo off from whatever he was about to say. “What was that?!” Grian exclaims, looking at him. 

“I’m not sure,” Mumbo answers, his brows knitting together as he looks ahead. Someone shouts, and the two share a glance before moving. His pace changes from a leisurely walk to a jog, and Grian hurries after him.

Impulse’s stand comes into view, and Grian nearly collides into Mumbo as they stop. His gaze lands straight ahead of them and his breath hitches in his throat. 

The front of the demon’s stand lays smashed into wooden bits on the ground, golden apples spilling all over the place. Impulse stands under the tarp, face set in anger. “Impulse!” Grian shouts in concern, and he goes to take a step forward to help him. But Mumbo grabs his arm before he can, and he twists around to look at him, “We have to–”

“Don’t,” Mumbo hisses to him, and the expression on his face is enough to make Grian stop. 

In the near month that Grian has known Mumbo, he has never seen him look so terrified before. His body is as stiff as a board, fear swimming in his ruby red irises. But deep beneath that fear is hatred, a sort of hatred that has strong roots. Roots that have been growing for years. They are firm in Mumbo’s eyes, and his posture exudes his anger, his hatred. Yet his gaze seems far away, distant. As if he were suddenly stuck somewhere else that isn’t this moment here. The hand gripping Grian shakes slightly, yet firm in its grasp on him. His jaw is clenched tight, brows pulled tight as he glares daggers at someone. 

Grian follows his gaze, eyes trailing back over to Impulse’s stand. Impulse and the damage had been the first things that Grian saw, but a second glance has him noticing more. In front of Impulse is someone else. They’re dressed in old gothic clothes, the sort that reminds Grian of those vampire costumes that kids wear during Halloween. Long silver hair hangs behind the stranger, sitting against their high black collar. 

The scene is beginning to garner a crowd, with Grian and Mumbo near the front. 

“What the hell, Scott?!” Impulse exclaims, just short of a snarl. “You can’t just go and destroy my stand like that!” 

“Actually, I think I can.” The stranger, Scott, tilts his chin up at Impulse, “I’m shutting it down. You’re well aware that the Council forbade the use and selling of enchanted golden apples, yes?” He sounds bored as he speaks, accent thick. 

“Are you hearing yourself man? If you’re gonna target what I’m selling then you should be targeting everyone here!” Impulse argues, eyes flashing a bright neon yellow. Murmurs break out amongst the crowd of people around them. 

Scott hums in return, gazing down at his nails, looking for any dirt beneath them. His gaze flicks over to Impulse, and he sighs. “Well I don’t care what everyone else is doing. Not only are you selling a product that has been explicitly banned by the Council, you’re also doing so at an illegal market. That’s all the proof I need to arrest you.” 

Impulse clenches his jaw, fists curling at his sides. “Do you even hear how ridiculous that sounds? I thought you councilmen didn’t bother with the dealings down here! Why now all of the sudden?!” he argues, voice shaking with anger. 

“The business of the Council is none of your concern.” Scott levels him with a frown, “And if you’re going to continue to question me, I’ll add that to your growing list of transgressions.” 

Grian turns away from their conversation to look at Mumbo. His expression hasn’t changed, and he feels frozen next to Grian like this. “Mumbo, who is that guy?” he questions. 

It takes Mumbo a minute to answer, eyes still focused on the scene unfolding in front of them. Impulse and Scott’s voices fade to the background as his gaze flickers over to Grian. Grian notices the way Mumbo’s pupils come back into focus when they land on him. He takes a breath, “The vampire with Impulse is Scott Smajor. And he’s bad news.”  

The way he speaks makes Grian think that there’s more to the statement. Mumbo speaks with such certainty, this underlying hint of fear that Grian gets the feeling Scott is just more than ‘bad news.’ 

He looks back over to the two arguing men. 

“I’ve done nothing wrong here Scott, you have no right,” Impulse growls, “You’re the one instigating something.” 

“I’m not the one breaking the law,” Scott replies simply, shrugging. 

“You just destroyed my property!” Impulse roughly points at the destroyed stand. “Completely unprompted!” 

“Yes, because I’m shutting your stand down and bringing you in. Oh, I’ll also be taking whatever supply you have left of these,” He kicks one of the golden apples laying at his feet with a little hum, “and confiscating them.” 

“What?!” Impulse exclaims, and he looks ready to snap. “No, you can’t! I haven’t done anything!” he repeats himself, and Grian gets a flash of two horns as Impulse’s form seems to flicker. Was that the glamour he mentioned earlier?

Scott sighs in return, tutting at him and shaking his head. “Ugh, enough of this. I’m tired of arguing with you.” He takes a step forward, hands reaching out for Impulse. “Make my job easier and just come along quietly.” His eyes flash bright red.

Impulse’s face twists in a heated mix of protest and anger, and Grian sees the way his hands begin to glow that same neon yellow as his eyes. “Absolutely not!” 

Something tugs at Grian’s chest, this need to help him. Clearly Scott is the one overstepping here, and he isn’t listening to Impulse at all. Impulse is his friend, and Grian certainly isn’t going to just stand around and watch as he gets arrested. He looks around at their surroundings, wondering if there’s anything he can do to help. In a fight between two supernatural creatures, Grian would be at a major disadvantage. 

There’s all sorts of stands full of things to use. But this is a black market, and something tells him he probably shouldn’t be messing with other people’s things. Lucky for him, he spots a decent sized rock on the ground. He leans down to grab it, tossing it lightly in his hand. The rock is heavy in his hand, about the full size of his palm. He looks back to Scott, whose back is pointed to him. 

He makes up his mind.

He goes to take a step forward, but Mumbo keeps his grip on him. “Grian!” he hisses at him, but Grian ignores him. He wretches his arm out of Mumbo’s grasp and moves forward. He swings his arm and throws the rock at Scott with as much force as he can. “Hey! Leave him alone!” Grian shouts at him, standing at the front of the crowd.

The rock hits Scott right in the middle of his back, forcing him to take a step forward from the impact. Impulse pauses, eyes going a little wide in surprise. More people around them begin to whisper and murmur, “Who’s that?” Grian ignores them.

Scott stills for a rather heavy pause, and Grian stands firm. Slowly, the vampire cranes his head to look at Grian. A deep red eye stares at him, and an intense wave rolls right over Grian. It’s at this moment, he understands exactly why Mumbo said this guy was bad news. Scott glares at him, it’s something fierce and harsh. Even from just a few feet away, Grian can taste the bloodlust exuding from him. He hasn’t said a word, but with one look alone, Grian wants to shrink back. He nearly does, as his mind yells at him to step back. The feeling coming from Scott is intense and wraps tight around Grian’s throat, leaving him feeling paralyzed. 

Turning fully around, Scott’s eyes pin Grian in place. He takes a few deliberate steps over to him, “You’ve gotten dirt on my clothes.” His voice is low in his throat, thinly veiled anger behind his words. “That was a foolish mistake.” 

Grian swallows thickly, but he meets Scott’s stare head on. He doesn’t allow himself to cower in front of the vampire, no matter how much he may want to. “Leave Impulse alone,” he demands, trying to sound as firm as possible. 

“Oh? And who are you, a friend of his?” Scott questions, eyeing him up and down. He grabs hold of Grian’s chin with rough fingers, tilting it up so he can meet his eyes. Grian winces at his hold, something twisting uncomfortably in his gut. He glares at him. 

Scott surveys him, eyes focusing on his ears specifically. He scoffs, “A human, of course.” He says it like it’s something obvious, something to be expected. “A human who shouldn’t even be here for that matter.” He hums, bringing Grian’s face closer, “Though you’re a nice looking one. Just how did you sneak in?” 

A hand crosses Grian’s vision, grabbing hold of Scott’s wrist. “Get your hands off of him,” Mumbo growls, looking at Scott with anger. He’s moved to stand at Grian’s side, and from their close proximity, Grian can see the subtle ways in which Mumbo shakes. He wonders how noticeable it is. 

Scott’s face briefly gives away his surprise as he stares at Mumbo, but it soon melts away. An amused smile takes its place, and Scott jerks his arm back. 

Free from his grip, Grian lowers his head and takes a slight step back. 

“Well, this is a surprise. You’re the last person I was expecting to see here, Mumbo,” Scott hums, Impulse temporarily forgotten. “How many years has it been now? Fifty? One hundred? It’s hard to keep track,” he chuckles as if it’s an old joke between friends. “And with a human no less. I guess time does change people after all.” 

Mumbo doesn’t answer him, narrowing his glare as he stands almost protectively in front of Grian. 

Scott stares at the two of them curiously, something unreadable on his face as he looks at Mumbo. Whatever it is, Grian doesn’t like it. After a moment, he huffs, “Well, no matter. I have Council business to attend to, if you don’t mind.”

“N-No,” Mumbo argues against him, swallowing thickly. Scott’s eyes immediately flick to him, a frown dancing on his lips. Mumbo shrinks back slightly, but tries to hold firm. “No, you’ll be leaving Impulse alone. You know as well as I do that the Council doesn’t care about the dealings down here. It’s a waste of time.” 

Scott answers him with a hum, as if contemplating it. Grian stands still, watching him carefully. The hairs on the back of his neck stand on end with tension, heart thumping in his ears. Impulse still stands behind them, eyes squinting and jaw clenched tight. 

As if to add more fuel to the fire, Mumbo adds, “I’ll make sure Doc fights against you.” 

That causes Scott to crack, a small exhale leaving him. “Ah, there it is. You do enjoy throwing Doc’s name around, don’t you?” he snickers. “That’s only going to work for so long, Mumbo,” he says darkly, eyes flashing a dangerous red as he gazes at the other. Mumbo tries to suppress his shudder, but Scott catches it. 

Either way, Mumbo’s threat seems to have the desired effect, for Scott turns to Impulse, “Consider yourself lucky that we were interrupted. Next time you might not be so fortunate.” The threat is clear, and Impulse glowers at him. “As for you two,” Scott directs his gaze to Mumbo and Grian, “My own feelings aside Mumbo, the Council will be hearing of this. Prepare yourself.” 

Before Grian can get a word in, Scott snaps his fingers. A swarm of bats appears from seemingly out of nowhere, obscuring Scott’s form. Though through the storm, red eyes lock gazes with brown, and Grian shivers. The bats disappear, Scott with them. 

The moment the vampire is gone, Mumbo heaves a loud sigh. He takes a step back, setting a hand on his chest. “Goodness that was terrifying,” he breathes, and Grian looks at him with concern. 

“Are you alright?” he asks, setting a hand on his arm. He can’t get the sight of Mumbo’s downright terrified expression out of his head. He frowns. 

Taking a few deep breaths, Mumbo attempts to calm his shaking hands. “Just peachy,” he answers, sparing Grian a glance. There’s still a bit of fear swimming in his eyes, a bit of panic. 

“Man, I owe you guys big time!” Impulse exclaims, hurrying over to them. Sensing that the spectacle is over, the people around them begin to disperse. It leaves just the three of them standing around Impulse’s ruined concession stand. “You totally saved my butt back there!” 

Grian frowns, “Why was he after you?” No matter how he thinks about it, it doesn’t make any sense. The entire Black Market is illegal, all things considered. It doesn’t take a genius to figure that out. So why go after only Impulse and not the entire market?

Impulse’s lips curl in a frown that matches Grian’s own. “I’m not sure, honestly. I didn’t do anything to make him mad,” he pauses, “that I remember, anyways.” The demon then turns around to look at his destroyed stand, eyeing the spilled and now ruined apples. “Man… Scott was pretty ruthless. But if his eyes are on me, it’s probably a good thing that this all got destroyed.” 

“Impulse…” Grian trails off, not knowing what to say. Is an apology appropriate here? Encouragement? 

Impulse offers him a weak smile, “It’s fine, G. I’m just glad no one got hurt.” 

“You and me both,” Mumbo mumbles, sighing. “This night really turned out to be a bust. We’re completely back to square one.” 

“Well, if there’s anything I can do to help you guys out, just let me know,” Impulse replies, patting his shoulder. “I’m gonna get this mess cleaned up and head home I think. This was a lot more excitement than I was ready for,” he chuckles.

“Want some help?” Grian offers, glancing over at Mumbo. “Unless you’ve got a midnight date,” he teases, if only because he can’t stand seeing Mumbo so… off. He still seems a bit dazed, coming down from whatever sort of adrenaline rush he had been stuck on. 

To his relief, Mumbo snorts, “I can promise you I’ve nothing of the sort.”

“In that case, the extra pairs of hands would be greatly appreciated, thanks guys!” Impulse chirps cheerfully, smiling at them both. 

Later, when Grian comes home, he lays awake staring up at the ceiling. Sleep does not come to him easy, not even as he holds the necklace from Mumbo over his chest. 

A feeling of dread begins to fester deep within him.