Chapter Text
Ah. Christmas. The season of love, domestic violence and increased suicide rates. Truly a festive occasion.
Even for a monster like me.
“Brian!” Audrey, the stepdaughter of my beloved brother Dexter’s girlfriend, opened the door for me. She took me in a stormy hug and cradled my thick, black cashmere coat. „How are you? I see you’ve brought far too many presents again,“ she greeted me, beaming at me. I smiled. An extremely synthetic smile, but one that was able to convince and dazzle everyone. Everyone. Except for my brother. I pushed Audrey a little away from me to make room for me and my opulent suitcase. “I had to pay extra at the airport,” I admitted, pointing at the luggage.
“I hope not too much?” she asked, finally taking a step back. Even in this short time, she had grown again for some reason. I still looked down at her. Her head of golden curls barely reached my chin. “You’re almost as tall as your mother,” I nodded at her. But as the two of them weren’t related, it couldn’t be due to their genes. They didn’t even look remotely similar. Audrey with light curls, soft brown eyes and a round face. Her mother long, straight black hair, dark, almost equally black eyes and features as angular as my suitcase. She looked a bit like Debra. Which didn’t make it any better, considering Dexter was dating her. And that Debra, may she burn unpeacefully in hell, had been his bitchy stepsister. As if I had spoken of the devil, Audrey’s mother came around the corner. “Angela!” I shouted, raising my arms. Once again, I smiled broadly. Usually, just like years before, she would greet me with a smile and then ask me how the journey from Seattle to Iron Lake, Massachusetts had been. Then I always replied „the planes are full around the holidays. But everything was great.“
But not this time.
Angela looked tense. Even I, the monster who had no real human feelings, sensed it. She stopped in the hallway of her typical American small-town house and eyed me from a distance of about four paces. Next to the white walls and light-colored parquet flooring, she looked like a shadow. I suppressed raising an eyebrow and added. „How are you? How’s the department? No sheep uprooted? No Christmas trees stolen?“ I teased her and gently pushed past her daughter.
“No.” she greeted me. „Everything’s fine. How are you?“
Her voice sounded...different. Her whole posture was...different. Reserved. Subliminally, anyway. What had my brother done?
„Oh. The usual. Nothing worth mentioning. The usual suspects who end up in hospital because they didn’t wear their seatbelt while driving. Or because they were careless when gardening,“ I told her and approached her. However, Angela made no move to hug me. Nevertheless, I made an attempt. Somewhat reluctantly, she let herself down and gave me a hug. Very briefly. Then she pushed away from me again.
“Where is my brother?” I asked her. Unlike her daughter, she almost reached under my eyes.
„In the living room. With Harrison.“
“Oh,” I said. Maybe that’s where the tension came from. Well. A boyfriend with a secret son wasn’t exactly...Christmassy. „Well then. I’ll say hello to both of them.“
As soon as I was past her and they were behind my back, my human mask slipped. I had to give the corners of my mouth a break every now and then. All this fuss. Disgusting.
Angela was right. Dexter was lounging on the sofa. In his usual manner with a hideous Christmas sweater. And next to him... his son. My nephew. They looked...incredibly similar.
And apparently they behaved very similarly too, judging by what my brother told me on the phone. A young killer. Well. Not yet. But soon. Practice makes perfect, doesn’t it?
My eyes shot to Harrison, who was crouched in the armchair next to my brother. Apparently, unlike him and me, he was a natural at faking human features. I should take notes. “Brian!” Dexter suddenly shot up from the dreadful sofa, which was probably an heirloom but belonged in the bulky waste. „How nice that you made it in time! We’ve already started unpacking, sorry.“
My brother sounded overly cheerful, as he always did when outsiders were present. I immediately contorted my lips into a smile and played along. „ No big deal. Don’t worry about it. I’m not angry with you,“ I reassured him and gave him a hug as well. But unlike Aubrey and Angela, I held him longer and squeezed him a lot harder. My little brother. My family. “You’re my uncle?” a voice suddenly tore me out of my deep embrace and I glanced up. Dexter pulled away from me and looked towards the wing chair where the voice had come from. Harrison. My heart almost warmed. But only almost. “And you’re my nephew,” I blinded him with my best smile. Just in time, because Aubrey and Angela stepped into the living room behind me. A room that, by the way, was dripping with twinkling and glittering lights and fat little plastic men with red coats and white beards. The rather small Christmas tree made up for it by almost collapsing under the candy canes, baubles and tinsel.
„A real family celebration. How wonderful,“ I said, looking at Dex. My eyes almost shot through his. Silent communication, but he seemed to have understood.
“I thought ,” he said. „That we’d take a little trip tomorrow on Boxing Day. Just the three of us. It’s a blood moon.“
“Blood moon,” I repeated, emphasizing the first syllable strongly. Perhaps a tad too emphatically, because Harrison’s eyes shot from me to his father and back again and he shifted a little uncomfortably in his chair.
“Yep,” my brother replied cheerfully, not even responding to my innuendo. Of course he didn’t. Disturbing outsiders were present. Too bad. I had so many questions. So many ideas... “Yes, but first let’s unwrap the rest of the presents,” a voice from the cheap seats interjected. My jaw tightened and I swallowed. But I kept my perpetual, almost dentist-ready smile and turned around. “Of course!” I raised my arms and reached for my bag. „But please. Let me change out of my jacket first.“
And that’s what I did. And then I handed out the presents.
An overpriced tablet for Aubrey (“Cool. I can watch Netflix on it now!”) and a book about sustainable vegetable growing („Nice. Mum’s garden is far too sparse anyway. And you don’t have to support all those discounter chains“). A cashmere scarf for Angela (“Thank you very much”) and a multi-digit voucher for an online fashion boutique (“That wouldn’t have been necessary”). And heaps of chocolate and other sweets on top. “You’re really giving me a run for my money, big brother,” Dexter forced himself to smile and gave me a peck on the side. I sat down next to him on the sofa and stretched out my legs. I already had a hot chocolate and a cookie in my hand. Whole grain and organic. Aubrey had baked them. That’s how they tasted. I praised them anyway.
“Oh yes, your present is still missing,” I turned to Dex and pulled a long packet out of the suitcase. “Scotch,” my brother stated after unwrapping it. “Yes,” I confirmed. „Don’t look at the year. It’ll make you dizzy.“
“All right,” he promised me and crossed himself. I laughed. Dryly. Like the cookie in my hand. Then I turned to Harrison.
„Oh... Harrison. I only found out too late that you were there,“ I lied. „That’s why your present isn’t wrapped yet. I didn’t have time. But I’ll give it to you tomorrow. I want to wrap it first.“
It was already wrapped. Tied up in the finest leather. Five wonderful knives. Folded Japanese steel. Only my little nephew wouldn’t be filleting fish with them.
“No problem,” he said, smiling wanly. “Wouldn’t be too bad unwrapped, though.”
I had to praise him inwardly for this feeble attempt at manipulation. They grow up so fast.
„No. Really. That’s important to me. Tradition must be upheld, right Dex?“, I retorted, turning to my brother. God damn code. Dexter would pass that shit on to his son. And I would at least try to prevent that. Someone had to have a reasonable influence on the young vegetable. So that they wouldn’t be pumped directly with such...soft-washed shit.
Speaking of soft-washed shit. “When’s dinner?” I asked the group.
Aubrey had gone to great lengths to ensure that the tofu in rice paper didn’t taste too much like...tofu in rice paper. I poked at the vegan duck, missing the restaurant I used to order from back home in Seattle. A scrutinizing glance over at my family, my real family, confirmed my suspicions that they were feeling the same way. At least the casserole was edible. „So...what’s going on in the small town. Anything exciting happening?“ I poked at the flammable anthill and was immediately pleased to see that the first sparks seemed to be flying, as Angela stiffened even more in her already far too stiff posture. One more sentence about unpleasant topics and I could be called Medusa instead of Ice Truck Killer.
“Well. Um.” she began a little vaguely and I leaned back in my uncomfortable wooden chair. I looked at her across the cluttered dining table. She was sitting at the other end. We were separated by two bowls of salad, a bowl of beans, two casseroles and other stuff that called itself food. Along with alcohol and juice. At least the booze was drinkable. I was pouring myself the second glass. Dexter didn’t approve. But my brother didn’t have my metabolism either. My brother could stuff himself with heaps of sweet treats, and so could I, but he was less able to handle alcohol.
I, on the other hand, liked to sweeten my evening with a glass of wine and a chopped-up blonde.
“Um.” Angela repeated herself. „To be honest, there’s a lot going on. But these are pretty heavy topics that I don’t like to talk about over dinner.“
Really. Heavy. More violent than chopped-up bodies and bloodless limbs? Probably not. “Well,” I drew out the word. “Then let’s talk about contemplative things.”
And so we did. And how we did.
I held out for about an hour until I excused myself to the toilet and took a break in the quiet room. Once again, I was greeted by a terrible small-town atmosphere. Next to the wall mirror was a “Live, Laugh, Love.” sign. Next to it, in a small cupboard, calendar slogans framed in cheap plastic adorned the scenery and, together with the rest of the kitsch of lace doilies and old pink wall tiles, created an overall sense of horror. I escaped the dread and retreated to the kitchen. It smelled of rosemary and caramelized onions. I trudged past the dessert-laden counters to the fridge, reached in and pulled out a bottle of water. As I put it to my lips, my eyes wandered around the kitchen.
It was not a feast for the eyes. Dark wood. Brown linoleum. And a ceiling lamp decorated with poppies. In terms of style, completely out of my taste.
My eyes kept wandering and suddenly caught on something. Right next to the fridge, behind the toaster, was a red paper folder. A voice snickered in the back of my head. A voice that only spoke when it wanted to have fun or smelled danger. At the sight of the red, I guessed the latter.
With a quick, critical glance in the direction of the dining room, I walked over to the toaster and reached behind it. The folder was quite thick and heavy. I flipped it open. And what fell out of it made me freeze.
“Dexter,” I said as I re-entered the dining room. „I just remembered you asked me to take a look at that big mole on your back. Risk of skin cancer and all that.“
Four pairs of eyes shot to me. But I ignored three of them. “Sure,” my brother drawled and laughed, seemingly uneasy. Seemingly embarrassed. A charade. „Totally forgotten. It’s a bit awkward for me. Didn’t want to go to the doctor about it and all that.“
“Don’t worry,” I called out to the group and stepped towards the door. „But I need to get out first. Clear my head. Otherwise my doctor’s brain won’t work.“
“Sure,” my brother repeated and stood up. “I’ll just put my jacket on quickly.”
“Dad?” Harrison suddenly interrupted Dexter and the two of us paused. Apparently he had figured us out. No wonder. After all, we were of the same blood. In more ways than one.
„I’ll be right back. A walk doesn’t sound bad after the feast.“
I nodded my head towards the door, subtly impatient, and my brother hurried. “I’ll be right back,” I said goodbye, smiling gallantly and bowing slightly. When my eyes fell on Angela, I realized that Harrison hadn’t been the only one I hadn’t been able to fool. For Angela’s dark eyes stabbed me with two daggers.
Fortunately, her death stare only reached as far as the front door and after that I was free. And so was my brother. We trudged through the snow. The cold white crunched under our feet. I could smell the smoke from the countless chimneys that billowed above the roofs of the houses and rose into the cloudy sky. So peaceful. So quiet. Too quiet.
“What’s going on?” my brother got straight to the point. “Is it about Harrison?”
A grin briefly twitched across my face. But not a second later, my muscles rested back in their usual emotionless position.
„No. Well. It could, if you don’t take care of it. Because then your son would have to grow up without a dad again,“ I said, pulling out a photo and pressing it to his chest as we walked.
Dexter stopped and I stopped too. His fingers gripped the shiny paper, turned it over and - he froze too.
“What’s this?”, he pressed out. There was a neck in the picture. But not just any neck. A dead neck. A dead neck with a puncture from a needle. „I found this in the kitchen. In a folder. With various other pictures. Pictures that are from here but also... from Miami,“ I said. Silence. “It was a really shitty idea to get into bed with a cop,” I reprimanded him with subtle anger. “Angela.” Dex whispered, still staring at the piece of evidence, quite stunned.
„Your meter maid found out. Or at least she suspects something,“ I said.
“No,” my brother breathed.
“Yes,” I countered.
Dexter shook his head. Because we both knew what that meant. A smile crept onto my lips and my eyes began to sparkle. My brother tore himself away from the photograph and looked at me. His words were pretty devastating: “You can’t kill her.”
„Either she dies or you go to prison. You won’t be able to fake your death again. You’ll be wanted everywhere. Anywhere. And right now you’re only at peace because we blamed it on Doakes back then and blew the guy up.“
„But Angela isn’t Doakes. She doesn’t fit the code.“
“Your code,” I corrected him. And while we were at it, “A good opportunity to teach your son-”
“No!” Dexter cut me off. “No!”
“No?!” I shouted and snatched the photo from him. I held it close to his nose. Almost pressed it into his face. „Dexter. You don’t have a fucking choice. Not this time! She’ll convict you. And if you won’t do it for yourself, at least do it for your son. Or do you want Harrison to see his father die on the electric chair?“
“This...this isn’t...” stuttered Dexter. His eyes widened and his mouth half-opened in disbelief and disagreement.
I stepped closer and lowered the picture. I reached for his hand and slipped the photo into his fingers. “If you don’t take care of it, or I don’t take care of it, or we don’t take care of it,” I hissed. „Then Harrison will grow up a full orphan instead of a half orphan. And as much as I like my nephew. I have to admit, I don’t have time to go to football games after work and...“ I now struck the coup de grace. „And I don’t think you want your son to grow up with me either. Considering you’d rather have given him to Hannah than me. Because...“ I stepped even closer and leaned into his ear. „Unlike you, I don’t follow a code. And that’s exactly what I would and will teach the boy. So pull yourself together, kill the cop, or I’ll clean out my study in Seattle and put up posters of teenage role models. And I’m not talking about Harry Styles. I was thinking more along the lines of Ted Bundy or Richard Ramirez.“
Dexter’s breathing was heavy. Very heavy. Apparently my gentle, frankly not entirely honest threat had helped and he uttered words that I wish I had captured on tape: „All right. Angela needs to be silenced.“