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LATE AUTUMN, 1994
There’s always been a general buzz about the interior of The Altar as long as Jasper’s known it for.
Not that it’s been long. Jasper’s life had been lived comfortably on the outskirts of the town for the better part of seventeen years, in some ramshackle house left out by Athena’s Ladder. Secluded and hidden by the shade of the Mangrove Forest.
Point being, everything about Javelin held a general ambient buzz that Jasper still wasn’t quite used to. Clinking glasses and silverware, the hum of electricity in the lightbulbs hanging overhead, a plethora of footsteps all containing their own unique qualities and personalities depending on whose they were.
The chatter. The talking.
It was safe to say Jasper wasn’t used to so many people being in one place, nor the sounds they made as they lived. And that isn’t even factoring in the things Jasper could hear and see about them from their souls.
Damn that Devil and his wicked words.
Hades never explained what it meant to be a Cerberus of the Underworld. He never explained anything he wanted; he just wanted it done, and damned be the poor schmuck who dared to defy, question or refuse an order.
When she’d shook hands with the Devil, she wasn’t prepared for what she would see.
Jasper had come to learn the hard way that Souls were nasty, wicked little things themselves. A true essence of a person, where all of their motivations manifest. Their dreams and desires, their rage and hurt and happiness – Everything which makes someone who they are is condensed into the shape of a person. An incorporeal thing laid overtop of the human body, molding itself to shape, stitched to their heels like shadows.
She could see all of it. Constantly. When she touched something, an object that was passed around or often touched, Jasper would absorb flashes of its history, of the people who last made contact with it and what they were thinking or feeling at the time. It felt like someone driving a railroad spike into her eye sockets, punching her like an angry fellow who’s five-too-many deep at the bar during last call.
Jasper doesn’t know how to turn it off, if that’s even a possibility.
So, she goes to do what any normal, completely sane person experiencing a brush with the supernatural for the first time in their life would.
She gets a Goddamn drink.
Or she tries to. Jasper only gets as far as claiming a barstool before they cringe from the sudden, overwhelming surge of mental stimulus from the souls nearby.
They sink down into the seat and practically melt into the bartop before they can manage to flag down a bartender. Their arms circle tightly around their head, trying to shield their eyes and ears from the light and sounds of chatter and clattering dishware.
One of the bartenders on duty sees her anyway after serving another customer, and swiftly slides in front of Jasper’s seat to check on her. Their hair, a wild tangle of long red pulled into a high pony, spills across the bartop to their right. The bartender raises her brow at Jasper’s general appearance.
“‘Scuse me, honey,” She chirps with a high pitched drawl, a honey-sweet sound with just a tinge of annoyance peeking through. “If you wanna sit up at the bar you gotta order –”
She doesn’t have time to finish her sentence before Jasper lifts her head, fixing her with an intense stare, her red-ringed pupils glowing hot against the cool steel of her irises.
The poor bartender startles, her expression morphing instantly from begrudging hospitality to genuine shock as she reaches out and braces one hand against the edge of the bar. “Oh! M-Miss Jasper, I’m awful sorry –”
“Knock it off with all that Miss shit, would ya?” Jasper scoffs loudly, waving one hand dismissively as the other reaches up to pinch the bridge of her nose. She takes a deep breath before continuing. “Just — a whiskey, neat. Please.”
Despite the woman’s nerves, she manages to nod before turning and grabbing a short round glass and a bottle of whiskey from the bar’s shelves. The amber liquid splashes slightly as she pours it into the glass, filling it two-thirds of the way up before it’s gently slid across the bar and into Jasper’s waiting hand.
Jasper nods her appreciation as the bartender scurries out of her periphery, then throws the glass back to drink the whole thing in one gulp.
Their body quakes slightly as the liquid burns a path down their throat. Jasper avoids coughing out loud by gritting her teeth hard, head bowing down slightly as they place the empty glass back onto the bar top with a loud thunk.
The alcohol makes warmth bloom inside her chest, dampening the general feeling of discomfort in her body. The clattering sounds around her muffle slightly, and the emotions and thoughts swarming her mind become fuzzy and unfocused. Not completely gone, but becoming easier to cope with. A slight static crackle and a high pitched whine become the only distinct sounds still loud enough to catch her attention. At the very least, those were much easier to tune out.
As Jasper closes her eyes, focusing in on the feeling of alcohol entering her body, she feels something else. A hand attempting to slip into her pocket.
Her own hand snaps out and clamps around the pickpocket’s wrist, holding tight as her head turns and she discovers…
A kid?
Scrawny little thing, with a mullet of messy brown hair framing the surprise on their dirty face. Dressed in an outfit they were quickly growing out of; an old, tight-fitting t-shirt from some amusement park ride, a pair of dirty ripped jeans with pant legs that stopped halfway down their calves, and an oversized sweater tied around their waist.
Jasper raises a curious brow as the kid struggles against her hold on their wrist. She doesn’t even have to try and keep her grip on them.
“Lemme go,” they begin to shout, grunting with effort as their other hand attempts to pry Jasper’s fingers from around their wrist. They exhale panicked bursts of air, likely realizing the gravity of their situation under the intense glare of Jasper’s otherworldly gaze.
She can sense their panic ballooning up inside their chest. It mirrors itself in her own torso as she begins to focus more, searching the child’s soul for more information, a place or a person they might have come from. Was it some tactic used by an enemy of the Choir’s, trying to get information from its members in a way they might not suspect?
All Jasper can see is the kid’s terror, and their anger. Their anger burned so hot inside their soul it might as well have been giving off steam. Anger towards everything, towards the world, towards people. Towards Jasper, for catching them in the act. She feels it bubbling underneath their skin, the sheer heat coming off them nearly burning her hand. The burn scar on Jasper’s hand throbs.
“You must see all this as a game if you think even for a second I’m gonna let you off the hook, Kid,” Jasper says with a calm drawl, pushing herself into a standing position from the barstool, the kid’s wrist still held tight in her hand.
Other patrons of the bar begin to take notice of the commotion. They look at Jasper with concerned and fearful expressions, wondering if she intended to do to a child what she often did to any asshole that so much as looked at her wrong. She hadn’t been a member of the Choir for too long by this point, but her reputation as an unforgiving bitch had caught like wildfire and spread quickly through Javelin, a warning to others not to fuck with the likes of Jasper Daemon.
Jasper watches the child flinch as she rises to her full height, a good five inches taller than themself. They look scared shitless for a good three seconds before their anger swells and bolsters their resolve. They pull harder against Jasper’s hand, until Jasper purposefully lets go with a smug chuckle.
They let out a surprised yelp as their body tumbles backwards and they fall ass-first into the hardwood floor of The Altar. Jasper watches with suppressed amusement as the kid rolls onto their back to lament the sudden burst of pain from the fall.
They roll back up into a sitting position quickly, glaring at Jasper as they yell out, “What the fuck?!”
Jasper shrugs, the only answer she provides other than a taunting quirk of her brow as she shoves her left hand into the pocket of her jeans.
The kid plays right into the taunt, explosively pushing up from the ground to run at Jasper with a wound-up fist. Their movements are sloppy and predictable, allowing Jasper to merely side-step the lackluster jab the kid throws towards her. She reaches out with her right hand, grabs them by the back of their shirt and pulls them away from the bar seconds before they collide with the barstool and counter.
“Ease up, Mustang. Somethin’ tells me you ain’t nearly old enough for the bar just yet.”
“Let go of me!” The kid thrashes in Jasper’s grasp, throwing their arms about wildly as she continues to hold them like an aggressive puppy on a leash.
Jasper takes this moment to observe the kid’s appearance more. She notices there’s an old cut on their face, crossing over their cheekbone up to the corner of their eye. It isn’t very fresh, but the skin around it is an angry red color and swollen, bits of yellow peeking out from behind the scab. All signs of an infection setting in. Jasper knows it could easily spread into the kid’s eye due to how close it was.
Dirty, overgrown hair, tight clothes and an infected wound.
This kid’s a runaway.
“Let’s take a walk,” Jasper says as she begins to drag the kid towards the front doors. “Blow off some a’ that steam.”
They fight against Jasper the whole way, but eventually the two exit The Altar and begin walking into the sand-covered street outside. Jasper turns right and begins walking down the street towards the old building she’d inherited.
“I’m not going with you,” The kid yells at her as she practically drags them along. They pull and struggle against her hold, trying to reach behind them to pull Jasper’s hand off their shirt until she loses patience.
Jasper yanks hard and pulls the kid forward until they stumble in front of her. She releases their shirt and instead grabs them by the jaw, just under their mouth.
“Quit makin’ this more difficult than it needs to be,” Jasper hisses, squeezing their face hard. “You got an infection, an’ I’m tryin’a help your ass before you go blind. Go any longer out here by yourself an’ you’re gonna lose that eye, you understand?”
The kid seems frozen by panic as they stare hard into Jasper’s eyes. She can tell they understand the gravity of their situation, but that anger still simmers beneath their skin. It’s a stubborn anger that makes them want to fight, but almost all of that fight has exhausted itself after however long they’ve been out on their own. A small tear squeezes out from the corner of their eye as they give a curt nod of their head.
Jasper huffs, then releases the kid’s face with a small shove. “Good. Now, you wanna follow me with your own two feet or you want me t’ keep draggin’ you?”
They almost trip over the dirt as Jasper releases them, but the kid manages to find their balance and stands to their full height in front of Jasper. They give her a look that makes her think they’re going to fight back again, but after a moment and a deep inhale they shake their head, their eyes cast down to the dirt underfoot.
Jasper gives them a rough clap on the shoulder before continuing to walk down the road, beckoning them with a nod of her head. “Just a couple more buildings down this way.”
She escorts them to a weathered two-story building with a small open porch. The kid’s eyes roam across the building’s exterior, taking note of some patches where old wood has been replaced with fresh, newly cut pieces. It’s been here a while, and had probably fallen into disrepair at some point.
Jasper pushes the door open with a grunt, then ushers the kid inside.
The interior is just as weathered as the outside. It’s filled with dust, and the front room is nearly overflowing with haphazardly placed boxes. Some of the boxes are empty, while others have been filled with a random assortment of objects. The kid sees a lot of gemstones and rocks, piles of old newspapers and pictures.
Jasper’s boots thud loudly against the floor as they walk past all the boxes, towards an open door at the back of the room. “Don’t mind the mess. Still tryin’a sort through Daddy’s old shit. Come on back this way.”
Hesitantly, the kid follows in Jasper’s footsteps to the back office space. This space is neater than the front, only furnished by a large table, a desk and some stools.
They almost immediately spot two puppies lying amongst a blanket of newspapers across the floor at the farthest end of the room. When they make eye contact, both puppies rise from their slumbering positions and begin to hop and wag their tails in excitement. One puppy, a black and brown colored one, yips loudly as it clumsily trots towards Jasper and the kid. The other one, a smaller black pup, lowers its head timidly as it follows behind its sibling.
The bumbling black and brown pup collides against the kid’s legs and excitedly tries to climb up them to say hello, barking and licking at any piece of skin it can reach. Jasper waves her hands in the pup’s direction, trying to discourage it.
“‘Ey, Smudge, settle it down,” They call out gruffly, pushing the dog by the chest until it falls off the kid’s leg. “Don’t mind the pups. Hop on up here, would ya? Take a look at that cut.”
Jasper helps them up onto the table before pulling up one of the stools for herself. They aren’t sure where it comes from, but suddenly Jasper has a first aid kit laid out beside them and is pulling out disinfectant, a cotton swab and a pair of tweezers.
She grabs the swab with the tweezers and dampens it with disinfectant, then raises it towards the kid’s face.
“This is gonna sting,” She murmurs, her raspy voice becoming gentle as she touches the swab to the kid’s skin. “Just hold still a minute.”
They can’t help but jump as the disinfectant stings their wound, but they manage to stay relatively still. All of their energy had gone to trying to fight Jasper before. It also helps that Jasper coos small affirmative phrases to them as she works, soothing their panicked instincts like a scared animal. After a few minutes of cleaning, Jasper has the wound properly dressed, a small sheet of gauze taped over the cut to keep it clean and protected.
“Much better,” Jasper says with a nod, putting away their tweezers and zipping up the first aid kit. “Need to keep that clean and dry until it heals. I’ll keep an eye on it an’ make sure the infection goes away.”
Once all her supplies are put away, Jasper releases a long breath and slaps both her hands over her knees. She squares up and faces the kid fully.
“Now,” She continues. “You got a name, Kid?”
The kid hesitates before replying, “Lauren.”
“Lauren,” Jasper nods as she echoes the name. “You got a place t’ stay tonight, Lauren?”
It takes an embarrassing amount of time for them to answer, but Lauren eventually shakes their head no. They look down at their dirtied jeans, almost ashamed to meet Jasper’s eyes.
“Shame,” Jasper says with a click of her tongue. She grunts as she pushes against her knees and stands from the stool, then holds out a hand to Lauren to help them off the table. “Well, get comfortable down here while I go make up a cot for ya. My clothes ain’t gonna be a great fit, but too big’s better than too small.”
Lauren looks up at Jasper confused. “What?”
Jasper reaches out and ruffles their messy hair. “You can stay here ‘til you got some other place t’ stay. I’ll see if I can pull some strings an’ get you a room at The Altar or somethin’. Can’t have you runnin’ ‘round tryin’a pickpocket folks. Makes us look bad.”
As Jasper’s words sink in, Lauren feels their throat beginning to tighten, and tears quickly well up in their eyes. They can’t remember the last time they had a safe, warm place to sleep, or a meal that wasn’t scraps taken out of a dumpster. They hiccup softly as the tears spill down their cheek, dampening the gauze beneath their eye.
“Aw, hey now, don’t do that,” Jasper stutters. “You’re gonna mess up that bandage.”
Lauren surges forward and throws their arms around Jasper’s waist, gripping her tightly as they begin to cry into her shirt. Jasper stiffens in their grasp, her arms held aloft awkwardly before they slowly lower. She places one hand against the top of Lauren’s back, and the other onto the top of their head.
“Uh,” She hesitates a moment longer before she begins to pat them on the head. “It’s gonna be alright, Kid. It’s alright.”
Jasper can feel an immense weight lift off of Lauren’s soul as they continue to cry into her shirt. Relief floods through both of their bodies.
For the first time in a long time, the anger in Lauren’s chest subsides.