Curses and Cream Puffs

For once in his life, Damien wasn't anxious to face his father. He had taken two hits when only assigned to one, and he knew his father would have known that already. It was something to be proud of. At least, he'd be proud as long as he didn't know about Damien's lies. Above all, Damien was feeling determined to get these names and locations so he could take things into his own hands and save a few people.

He held one of Lena's tarts in a cloth wrap. She had insisted he take some for his mother, and he knew she would have appreciated the thought, even if she was infuriated with him for picking a girl up out of nowhere. His walk, however, was intercepted by Louis just outside of the manor.

Louis grabbed him by the front of his shirt, slamming him against a wall. Damien was used to his brother randomly deciding to beat on him and instinctively brought his knee up to get him in the gut. Louis scowled and let go, backing up a couple steps.

"What's the problem?" Damien asked.

"I'll tell you the problem," Louis growled. "What do you think- What the hell is that?"

His attention turned to the pastry in Damien's hand.

"Lena made a tart for Mother," Damien told him.

Louis glared at him and swatted the tart out of his hand.

"Well that was a waste," Damien said.

"What are you up to?" Louis demanded. "What's your little scheme?"

"I don't know what you're talking about," Damien said. "It was a pastry."

"I'm not talking about the tart," he scowled. "You took down two witches in a single day. Father has been strutting all morning and telling everyone about it, but I don't believe it for a second. He doesn't know you like I do. I know you're not capable of that."

"Then you don't know me as well as you think you do," Damien said, shoving him away.

Louis watched him go, but Damien knew better than to believe this would be the last he'd hear of it. Louis was on to him, and he had to be careful not to get caught. On the other hand, Damien wasn't sure he had ever seen his father so proud. He could have sworn he even saw a slight smile from him, for a split second. His father had never been a parent as much as a boss or trainer, and Louis was normally the one who was praised. The change felt nice, though Damien knew he was sleeping on a bed of lies.

"Her name was once Adelaide Milbourne," Rupert said as he poured out two glasses of red wine and handed one to Damien. "Sixty years ago she was rumored to have been a black widow. Her beauty attracted four husbands, all of which died unexpectedly within a year of the marriage. It was assumed that she had been dead for years."

"She wasn't so beautiful anymore," Damien mumbled into his glass.

"No one suspected she'd still be alive, let alone actively practicing dark magic," he said. "How did you know?"

"Gut feeling," Damien lied. "When I investigated the hit and... took care of them, I realized that the problems weren't solved. They had nothing to do with the dead livestock, and there was a missing child that wasn't with them, either. I thought I'd look a little further to make sure things were clear before I called the job done and came home. I didn't want to leave the town in the hands of a witch who had been hiding behind another."

Rupert nodded slowly, then patted Damien on the back.

"That's right," he said. "Are you listening, Louis?"

"Wholeheartedly," Louis said monotonously.

Rupert pointed to the banner on the wall, displaying the Astor family emblem.

"This is our true work," Rupert continued. "Yes, the work puts money in our hands. But our true purpose is to keep people safe, even if it means putting ourselves at risk. Damien had no promise of reward for finding this evildoer, but he took it upon himself to find her anyways. For the good of the people. And now Landoxe can rest easy, knowing they won't be animals for slaughter. They won't befall the same fate as your grandparents."

Rupert's tone in regard to the witches who took Louis and Damien's grandparents was a harsh one. The boys knew to shut up and be respectful when their father took on that tone of voice, even if they were in the middle of hating each other. Louis looked at Damien with a slightly different expression. Not just frustration, but jealousy and hatred. Damien looked away from him as Rupert handed him another note. This time, it was a list of five reports, rather than just one.

"All of them?" Damien asked. "Are you sure?"

"You've proven that you can be trusted," he said. "You don't need me to tell you whether or not you can handle it. Just do it. Finish them, and then we can discuss where to go from there."

"Yes, sir."

On his way out, Damien was stopped by his mother. She looked to Rupert, gently putting a hand on his elbow. He looked at her in confusion for a moment, then seemed to remember something and cleared his throat. He was awkward when he spoke, like he was reciting forced lines.

"How is, ah, the girl?" he asked.

"Your.... wife," Emelia said.

"Oh," Damien said, shifting awkwardly. "She's well. She sent her regards with a homecooked pastry, but it was misplaced on the way."

He gave a pointed look at Louis, who just smirked at him.

"Your mother wants her to come for dinner," Rupert said, promptly receiving an elbow in the gut from his wife. "I mean, we would like to invite her for dinner. To meet her. I suppose."

"Meet her," Damien repeated. "Right. I'll have my hands full with these jobs..."

Rupert nodded in understanding, but Emelia looked sad.

"I can find time to bring her," Damien suggested. "Between all this?"

Rupert and Emelia seemed to switch expressions, with him looking mildly displeased while Emelia looked ecstatic. Damien's father had never been much of a social butterfly. For once, he wasn't the one to worry about. Emelia was going to be the one who had questions.

When he got home, Damien realized that his furniture had been moved again. This time, however, it didn't seem spiteful. More like Lena was making adjustments to her own liking. He had to admit, it did open up the space quite a bit. She noticed the list in his hand.

"Are those our next targets?" she asked.

"Targets, victims, scapegoats," he said, handing her the list. "Depends on what they're up to, I suppose. Do you recognize any of those names? A couple of them go beyond reports to investigate. They have bounties on their heads."

"They do," she said, reading over the list. "Mortecombe... I've heard that somewhere before. I just don't remember where. It couldn't have been good."

"Well, you have time to think about it," he told her. "We have plenty others to investigate before we get to them."

She nodded, handing the list back. He stood there for a moment, knowing he had to tell her about the dinner. Would she even want to meet his family? She had no reason to. She looked back at him, handing the list back.

"Is everything alright?" she asked.

"Yes," he told her. "It's nothing. We can talk about it later."

She didn't have to worry about his family for now.