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Mr. Fell was a strange man. It wasn't a stomach-churning strangeness that made her fear for her safety or worry about his sanity, just a general oddness that made him stick out from the others in a way that was neither positive nor negative. From his platinum blonde hair to his vintage clothing that he rarely seemed to change, the man was weird. And it didn’t extend just to him either. The deeper you dug, the weirder he got. Odd occurrences, flickering lights, accounts of the place feeling 'off but in a good way', all of it painted a slightly unnerving and kind of amusing picture Joan was unable to interpret. None of it however, compared to the family tree, which was by far one of the freakiest things she’d ever come across in her years as a private investigator.
Because Mr. Fell didn’t have a 'family tree'. He had a family line. One identical man after the other through the centuries. No wives, siblings, aunts, or uncles, just a continuous string of sons and fathers. The absurd similarities between generations made her think he might be reproducing through mitosis, which would also explain why each family member smiled the exact same way.
But Mr. Fell’s weirdness wasn’t why she’d been hired. Unfortunately, the reason she’d been hired was because he wouldn’t sell someone a book and now she wanted to ruin him and his business out of pure pettiness and spite. The request had been ridiculous when she’d gotten it, and when she saw how interesting of a man Mr. Fell was, it became even more ridiculous. She could have been rewriting her entire perspective of the world by uncovering a supernatural creature, or mad scientist, or someone who was pulling a really elaborate prank, but no, instead she had to go through a checklist of ‘reasons Ms. Higgins can use to sue him into oblivion” until she had something to screw the man over.
Sometimes Joan really hated her job.
But it paid the bills, so here she found herself, standing in front of an old bookshop with a bell hanging over the door and a collection that would make most book dealers lose their minds. Inside she could see Mr. Fell puttering around, his face tired but happy. Joan internally cursed again and wondered why the assholes always had to be the ones with the most money. He seemed like the type of guy she'd investigate out of curiosity, but now that it was a job it lost most of its glamor.
She took a deep breath, then entered the store.
The smell of books, new and old, hit her instantly, as did the scent of tea and baked bread. Mr. Fell glanced over at her and waved, then went back to what he was doing. It seemed odd for him to ignore her despite being the only customer, but it wasn’t illegal. Just a bad strategy for keeping the business alive. But what did she know? One of the people in the room had a family business that had been kept alive and well for centuries, and it wasn’t her.
She took his apathy as an opportunity to snoop around in search of anything suspicious she could use against him. From a safety standpoint, everything seemed okay. Sure, there was a lot of paper and a few candles, but they were unlit and probably more for decoration than anything. Besides, she’d yet to find a library that wasn’t a fire hazard. After that, she spent her time doing a general search, which was really just her exploring for her own enjoyment and hoping that something popped up.
During the half-hour she spent looking, Mr. Fell didn't approach her once. He just wandered around the shop, fixing this and that and looking out at the street with a soft smile. It was only as she neared the exit that he spoke to her. “Are you planning on buying anything?”
“I…I didn’t see anything that I wanted. Sorry.”
His smile widened. “Oh, wonderful. Well, have a splendid day.”
God, he's weird. She smiled back and went to leave.
The next time she visited his shop she did it at odder hours. Specifically at 3 in the morning, when the lights were all off except for one, an open sign was hung crookedly from the window, and the door was unlocked. Even if they were closed, there was enough for her to have reasonably thought otherwise. So in she went with a confident stride.
The place was empty. No customers and no Mr. Fell. If she'd wished to, it would be the perfect time to fabricate evidence. Fortunately for Mr. Fell, she found him oddly endearing, and couldn't bring herself to stoop so low to hurt someone like him. She had standards, even if they were flexible and probably lower than they should have been. She gave the place another look around, searched through some papers, and even started reading a cookbook at one point, before deciding she'd done all she could do and that it was time to leave.
She was just about to head out when she was startled by the sound of the door opening. Despite having done nothing that was technically wrong, she still felt the need to hide and stepped behind a bookshelf so she was out of sight to anyone just walking in. She peered around the corner of the bookshelf and saw that two men had entered. The first was Mr. Fell, who looked particularly frazzled, and the second was a new man. He wasn’t the type you’d expect to hang out with the likes of Mr. Fell. He wore black instead of white, walked with a seductive sway of his hips, and leaned against any object he could trust not to crumple beneath him. He looked professionally sleazy, especially because of the black tinted sunglasses he wore despite it being both cloudy and nighttime outside. When standing next to him, Mr. Fell practically looked like an angel.
“Angel, you need to stay calm.”
She noted the use of a pet name and wondered if the two were lovers. People with specific aesthetics tended to attract each other, even if those aesthetics were very different.
“Calm? How can I stay calm when our entire livelihood is at stake…again!” Mr. Fell exclaimed. His friend, lover acquaintance looked like he was about to respond with something snarky, but held back in the end. A sign that he truly cared.
“Okay…okay, just tell me what's going on.
“I think I’m being followed,”
Shit. She pleaded with the universe that he wasn't referring to her. She hated confrontations like those.
“By…by them?” The other man asked
“I don’t know, but I got this message on my phone.”
She watched as Mr. Fell pulled out his phone and struggled to open it. The man in the dark sunglasses let him struggle for a second. Once it became clear Mr. Fell wasn't making any progress, he took it from him and turned it on before presumably going to check the message.
“You’ve wronged me. Your insolence and stubbornness are unacceptable. I have the means to get you, Be afraid.” He read aloud.
Joan's eye twitched. She knew someone who spoke like that. She'd been hired by someone who spoke like that. Goddamnit. If she wasn't currently in hiding she would have let out a string of curses. Instead, she dug her nails into her palm.
The man scowled deeply as his hand shook with rage. Mr. Fell looked at him pleadingly and the man sighed before handing the phone back to Mr. Fell. “I’ll deal with it.”
“But what if it's them?”
“It’s not. Trust me, none of my lot know how to use a phone, and unless yours got their sticks out of their asses and actually came down here, they don’t either.”
“Do you think the number will be in the phonebook?”
“No. Probably not. But I have a guy. I’ll get him to look into this. Then…you’ll never have to worry about it again.
Oh fuck. Although he hadn’t technically said anything that suggested she was in danger, the way he said it made her feel cold and on edge. This man was going to kill her if he found it. She didn’t know how she knew, but she did. Don’t fuck with dangerous people's friends family or lovers. God, she should have been more thorough when checking Mr. Fell's background.
“Your guy…. it’s not that Shadwell man is it?”
“I don’t think he knows how to use a phone either.”
Mr. Fell laughed a bit at this, and the man barred his teeth in a smile. Joan probably would have found it adorable if she was not currently fearing for her life.
When Mr. Fell and Crowley went off to another room, she ran out from behind the bookshelf and toward the door. She held the bell so it wouldn’t ring as she exited, only letting it loose as she closed the door softly behind her. Then she took off down the street, cursing like a sailor and thinking of a hundred obscenities to throw at her client.
“I’m done. Fight your own battle.”
She sent the text to Miriam as soon as she got home. While usually, she considered herself empathetic, she didn’t really care what happened to Miriam. Beforehand, she felt slight sympathy for the woman, but now she just felt a seething hatred fueled by fear and regret. The woman had done exactly what Joan had told her not to do, and now that man was looking for them. The mere thought of him at her doorstep made her shiver and brought back the question that had been haunting her.
What was wrong with him?
She kept looking back at the moment and analyzing every word he’d said, searching for something that made her terror reasonable. People had said much worse things to her before, but none had struck fear into her quite like him. She thought back to his glasses and how they sat firmly on his face, then considered the fluid motion of each step. Then she recalled the way he snarled at the camera, and she couldn't help but shudder. Something was deeply wrong with that man, and she had absolutely no idea what it was.
When the knock finally came at the window a little after midnight, she didn’t even question it. Somehow she'd always known that the man would find her. Despite it having been locked and triple-checked, the window slid up easily, granting access to her apartment. She didn't waste a second before lunging at the intruder. She aimed her knife at the intruder's shoulder but missed by an inch and ended up with a kick to the back that sent her sprawling across the floor. She landed hard but managed to keep her hold on the knife. She stumbled back to her feet, then spun around to face the man. He stood in front of the window with his hands in his pockets and his back hunched slightly.
“Hi. So… you're the one she was talking about.”
She gritted her teeth together and clenched her fists. “That fucking woman.”
“Yeah, a bit of a bastard if you ask me, she ratted you out right away. Said it was you idea in the first place. I’d choose a better client next time if I were you.”
“Yeah…will do. Now get the fuck out.” She pointed the knife at him, but he didn't even flinch.
“Nah. I’ve come to have a look around. See if there’s anything suspicious…or…anyone.”
She thought back to the mention of ‘your people’ when the man was talking to Mr. Fell. “Look, I have a guy who helps me find cases sometimes, but that’s all he does. I work for money. Nothing else. I know I messed up, but…it was just for a paycheck. I don't know what you or your... acquaintance Mr. Fell are involved in, but I promise it has nothing to do with me. I won’t even dare to look at him-”
The man suddenly lowered his glasses and Joan cut herself off with a gasp. Two yellow snake eyes peered out at her. “Wh-what the hell?” She took a step back, head spinning, while the eyes continued to stare holes in her for a few more seconds. When she had no other reaction, the man sighed and pushed the glasses up.
“You really don’t know anything?”
Joan stammered, then shook her head. “No. I think I know less than I did a few minutes ago actually.”
“Yeah. Okay well-”
“Crowley!” A familiar voice called out. Joan stared at the window with a slack jaw cause it couldn't be, it just couldn't.
Mr. Fell proved it in fact could be by climbing through the window and landing awkwardly on the floor. "Crowley! I figured it out, she's not with either of them."
"Yeah, I know angel, she's completely clueless."
"I am!" Joan agreed. "I don't understand a thing. I know nothing of importance." Crowley snorted a bit at this while Mr. Fell kept all his attention focused on him.
"I was worried you might have come to kill her. I know that seems a bit extreme and I probably overexaggerated but-" Mr. Fell admitted.
"Only if she was with them." The man, Crowley, interrupted.
Mr. Fell looked surprised by this. "Oh you, would... actually do that?"
"Angel I've killed before to save my own ass, I'd do it to save yours in a...hear thump, can't remember what it called right now."
"Heartbeat?" Joan supplied.
Crowley snapped his fingers."Yes, that Thank you."
Mr. Fell walked over to Crowley and stopped a foot away from him. He stared straight at Crowley, who was probably staring back behind the glasses. If they hadn't been two people who'd broken into her apartment, she might have found the pose endearing. Mr. Fell took Crowley's hand, causing Crowley to turn away as his cheeks turned pink. Mr. Fell smiled but said nothing about the tint. "I'd kill to save you...if I had to. I...I know I've always said I'm better than that, but I'd do it. Especially now, with all we have. I was so scared of losing it that I called you because you always know what to do and I thought maybe it was safer if we both-"
"I'm moving next week."
"Oh...why?"
"I'm moving across the street. To be closer. So you won't have to worry about that again, cause next time I'll just be across the street. I didn't know when to bring it up without sounding overbearing."
Joan was deeply uncomfortable. Not because of their love, it was adorable, but because this was the kind of thing you did in private, and not in front of a woman who had almost been on their kill list.
Mr. Fell and Crowley remained unaware of her discomfort. Mr. Fell smiled sheepishly. "Oh...oh that's nice. Although I have to say, there will probably be a lot more false alarms these, a lot of things that seem to be godly or ungodly are actually just people. It's shocking really and- oh." Mr. Fell cut himself off a second before Crowley's lips met his. He kept his eyes open at first, staring at Crolewy's closed ones, then gave in and closed his own eyes as he held Crowley's shoulder. They seemed to melt against each other, years and years of tension seeping out of them because of a simple press of the lips.
By the time Crowley pulled away, his glasses had slid down to reveal his dilated snake pupils. She was just about to comment on how adorable the two were when Crowley snapped his fingers and her world went dark. A split second before her hearing went she heard the beginning of a sentence. "Don't worry Angel. She'll think it was all a d-"