CHAPTER 1

A/N – Hello my dear readers! As if I hadn't started a million things already and timely updated none of them, this plot bunny popped in my mind and it was quite impossible to get it out of my system other than writing it down. So here it is guys, I just thought the Blackmarked AU had further potential and it was worth exploring, even if (yes, yes I am more than aware!) it is not the most original thing ever.

Warnings 1: Language, mentions of alcohol consumption and generally unhealthy lifestyle

Warnings 2: So yeah, I don't know if I mentioned (I think I did though…), there's the occasional crack but it's mostly a dark fic with a gloomy atmosphere and no one is really a good guy this time.

Prologue

A pale, long-fingered hand shot out from under the creased duvet, gripped the ringing device and launched it in the general direction of the opposite wall, which the cheap plastic clock hit violently before dropping to the floor defeated, in pieces. But the harm had been done and Arthur sat up in bed, slowly and groggily, a confused scowl already on his face. He looked over to the nightstand, where his phone waited patiently, innocently and then to the baby blue pieces of something lying further away on the stained carpet.

Muttering some unintelligible profanities (he didn't remember setting up an alarm clock for the life of him!), the Englishman shoved the covers aside and swung his bare feet over the edge of the bed, encountering an empty bottle as he did. The air was stale and reeking of old cigarette smoke and Arthur reached out to fish his phone from between a full ashtray and an empty pack of gauze, resting his gaze on the motionless lump lying on the other side of the king-sized bed under the duvet.

"Lukas? Good God, how long have we been lying here?" he asked, kicking the bottle away to get his bare feet on the ground. He stood eventually, being sharply reminded of the injured knee as pain promptly shot in said knee and up his thigh, resulting in another curse. "Damn, we stink too," he also observed after a quick sniff at his t-shirt.

"….Wedns…y"

"What?"

Arthur hopped awkwardly all the way to the stash of old files piled at the foot of the wall and climbed onto it to open the small windows. Bloody basement! He knew for a fact that none of the other MI6 departments were forced to function in such shitholes, but 'Magic Crime' was obscure and so painfully understaffed and under-everything that he often wondered why they were bothering at all. It wasn't much of a job either (but Arthur for one had been forced into it after being caught using his 'otherworldly' skills to misappropriate what could have only been called an innocent amount of cash), pay was really shit but instead it was dangerous and for safety reasons they had to live in the Department's awful headquarters. The offices of the Magic Crime Department comprised of several communicating rooms – among which four incredibly small 'guest rooms', a bathroom and a would-be kitchenette – all overstuffed with ancient, decrepit furniture, files, cardboard boxes and other junk. Being located in a basement, there were very few windows and aside from the pale, flickering bulbs hanging randomly from the cracked ceilings, it was dark and depressing as hell. A fucking prison.

"…it's Wednesday," his only colleague and subordinate grumbled, rolling around to lie on his back, eyes still closed.

"WHAT?! Oh, jolly good! I missed my reporting appointment," the Chief concluded. "It was two days ago, for fuck's sake!"

"What would be the point? They're not gonna give you any backup…"

Which was painfully true. Only the previous Thursday they'd discovered a pub selling a wide range of extremely creative magically-enhanced cocktails to underage kids and getting their hands on the owner had proven a hazardous and unfortunate affair. More precisely, a small army of animated clockwork bodyguards had gotten the best of Arthur and Lukas, so much so that they'd barely escaped with their lives. In fact, Arthur could very well justify that he'd spent the past few days nursing the Norwegian, who'd gotten a horrid gash on his back from shoulder to the last rib in the process, of course leaving out how he'd gotten seriously drunk and been passed out himself most of the time.

"Does it still hurt?"

Lukas turned again, forced himself to sit up and rolled his shoulder. "Ahhh… fuck. Yeah, still does." He dropped back down on the pillows with a groan, covering his eyes with his arm.

"Hold on, I'm gonna get more gauze and tincture and I'll change your bandage, okay? Here." The other blond fished out a last cigarette from the pack he'd just stepped on and lit it up with a flick of his fingers, then brought it to Lukas's lips.

"I can't believe how bloody bad this turned out," Arthur pointed, sliding off the bed and making the mattress bounce. "And I know the whole fixed budget crap, but we'll need to figure something out soon because you see, we can't handle it much longer, not without better skills, better weapons and preferably more men too!"

The Norwegian took a long drag and blew the smoke towards the blackened ceiling, shifting a bit to ease his discomfort. He heard his boss rummaging through the cabinets in the bathroom and the distinctive sound of stuff clattering and breaking, accompanied by a plethora of curses.

"You know, my cousin Tino is contracted," he said.

"Maybe we too should contract – A BLOODY MAID!" Arthur shouted angrily. "I can't find a damn thing in here!"

A maid wouldn't have been half bad, she could have made coffee in the morning among other things, Lukas thought, although he wouldn't go as far as to consider butter cookies with it. As things were, the constant offer of black Darjeeling was hardly satisfactory.

"I'm serious," he stated upon Arthur's return. "He says that nobody dares raid his shop these days, at least not when the bodyguard – or whatever the hell that thing is – is there with him. Because it's always with him and shit, just like his dog."

"I think it's a bad idea."

The Englishman climbed on the mattress and dumped the supplies on the duvet before reaching over to help his colleague roll over on his front. Nimble fingers peeled off the tape and the gauze and proceeded to dab at the wound with an antiseptic soaked pad, making Lukas whimper and cringe in pain.

"Right now my whole life is a bad idea."

(Actual) CHAPTER 1

A sharp, biting breeze was coming from the river nearby, making Lukas shiver in his light autumn jacket, but he soon regretted it as he stepped into the dingy block of flats and made his way up the dark, narrow staircase. The air inside was plagued by a mixture of foul smells – garbage, burned food, boiled laundry and whatnot – someone was yelling up the stairs, a baby was crying and the pipes were noisy, but he supposed that the rent must have been really cheap and the place low profile enough to make Tino feel safe to call this rather awful place home.

At first he'd thought of visiting his cousin at the shop instead – it was much more convenient, especially since he'd left his little brother in Tino's care upon taking the job with the Magic Crime Department (Emil hated it and never lost an opportunity to remind him), but Tino's business of trafficking of magic objects was not something officially approved of and Lukas would not have the Fin under scrutiny in case someone were to run random check-ups on him.

Arthur Kirkland thought the whole idea of contracting – whatever the hell that entailed – was bad business and something best staying out of, but then again he'd come back from his latest reporting appointment in the mood of someone hit by a bus, with the disturbing info that they were facing a probable budget cut if no notable improvement in results was to make itself apparent soon. And the Norwegian, even if he was wary of the thing himself, had already gotten a nasty wound on the job and wasn't planning on repeating the experience.

He breathed deeply - still feeling slightly dizzy after the long walk - and rang the doorbell, praying to all Gods that Emil was out.

"Hey!" Tino greeted cheerfully, filling the doorframe with his oversized sweater. "Long time no see, Lukas! I was so glad when I got the message!"

"Well, I-…"

"You're staying for dinner, right?" Clearly his cousin hadn't really gotten the message, since he moved quickly and pulled the pale blond inside before he could dodge it, almost making him trip over the small white dog which had come to greet the guest as well. "Come on, Emil must have missed you!" Tino leaned in and whispered to him confidentially. "I don't think he likes it too much here with us… Anyway, Lukas, meet my man Berwald," the Fin said, pointing to the kitchen, where a tall blond was carefully watching a pot of whatever atrocity Tino was cooking this time. "I-I mean my Grim, heh!"

The man turned slightly, assessing the newcomer with icy blue eyes from behind silver-rimmed glasses as he muttered something unintelligible and possibly hostile.

"He's Grim alright," his cousin observed fleetingly, making his way into the small living and plopping tiredly on the couch where he proceeded to stare numbly at the T.V. Just his luck, Emil was already there and the teen made an express point of not sparing him as much as a glance.

Lukas sighed. "So… uh… how's it going, bror?"

The other stared pointedly at the flickering screen, a scowl deepening on his face. "How much longer are you going to let me stay here with these two freaks, bror?" he hissed eventually, making sure Tino couldn't hear him from the kitchen.

"Emil! They're not freaks-"

"Yes, they are! Tino's up to all sorts of weird shit and that thing over there isn't even human! It's like some evil ghost or something, that he, like, summoned from a stupid book or something! I mean seriously, what the fuck?!"

Lukas sighed again, leaning over to pet the white ball of fluff wagging its tail at his feet now. Better not mention it to Emil that he was considering doing the same thing.

"Why can't we just rent a place of our own?"

"Emil, we can't afford it yet and besides, you still need someone to take care of you. And Tino does that! I can't, not with this job and you know I have to do this job, it's either this or worse, yeah? I'd rather not end up in whatever prison they might have for magic crime offenders."

The silver-haired teen slapped his palms on his knees brusquely, looking as if he was about to jump from his seat. "You know what, bror, I'm soooo fucking tired of this whole fucking Harry Potter bullshit you've got going on! Why does everything have to be about magic?" he spat. "Why can't you have a normal job, why can't we live in a normal house instead of a shithole and have NORMAL FOOD FOR DINNER?!" he yelled the last part to make sure his point was getting across to the intended recipient.

The dinner was a dismal affair.

Emil remained stubbornly silent throughout it, oozing a vibe of disgust and disappointment, just like the Grim who was disturbingly observant of those present, with an expression which clearly spelled out his lack of trust in his contractor's relatives. Tino insisted that Lukas was thin and pale and he should have a second helping of the dubious boiled meat he'd already generously shoved into everyone's plates, then started talking lively about the new lifestyle and cooking blog he was planning to put up soon as a side business. Lukas tried to offer some of the appalling dish to the little white dog when his cousin wasn't looking but Kukkamuna walked away with a snort (probably dog food was way better than this!).

"Emil hates me," the Norwegian said a while later, when he and Tino were out on the miniscule kitchen balcony and he'd lit up a cigarette to get rid of the bad taste in his mouth.

"Nah… he's just a teen. It's that phase, you know?" Tino stated, leaning on his elbows onto the railing purposefully, as if some great view was before him and not an inner courtyard filled with trash containers. He didn't go on to add that life for a child born with no abilities in the midst of a magic family couldn't have been easy either and that Emil probably felt 'on the outside' somewhat, frustrated even, despite things being generally more bad than good for the rest of them because of the whole magic thing.

"I want to be a good older brother, but I keep disappointing him," Lukas pointed sadly. "We were really okay after I'd just graduated from uni and I had the job at the library. We did have a place all to ourselves, and we could afford stuff too. Before I got arrested, that is…"

"Back then you kids had money because you used to go out every night dressed up like a whore and used you charming gift to rob people," the Fin replied with a sigh. "But people need more than money to be happy, and can do without money if they have other things. Like a loving family. Emil needs you to spend more time with him, listen to his shit when he feels like talking, you know, big brother stuff."

As if his little brother ever felt like talking or was loving to anyone else but his pet puffin… "He said a normal family would be great," the pale blond said. "Speaking of, I really wish you hadn't told him about Ber-… the Grim. That shit really freaked him out."

"It's Berwald," Tino clarified. "And he's really okay… I mean I was lucky to pick him and not someone else."

Lukas cringed, finding his cousin's words rather ominous and was suddenly wary of opening up the subject he'd come to talk about in the first place. But then again his wound still stung every time he moved his right arm, a painful reminder that his job had almost killed him and would succeed eventually if he didn't get protection.

"So this really is bad business…" he mused out loud. "And I'd come to ask you to help me get a contract."

If Tino was surprised, nothing betrayed it aside from an imperceptible falter in his smile.

"First of all, I don't have that copy of the Book of Grims. I couldn't fucking afford it, it costs five hundred golden coins! Just found out which shop has it and ripped off a page when they weren't looking – for good measure I won't ever set foot in there again. Second, the contract is for life, once contracted the Grim will be with you for the rest of your days. Their 'life' in this world is bound to yours, when you die they go back to Hell, I suppose that's why they're so keen on the whole protection thing in the first place. Third, some Grims are really wicked and make the payment part of the deal really unpleasant and shit."

"… the payment part?"

"Yeah. You must take off your protection charms and let them drink your blood from time to time, especially after they actually do something to save you. Granted, no Grim would go anywhere near killing you, but they can make it bad is what I heard."

Lukas blinked. "So you keep a bloodsucking spirit from Hell under the same roof with my little brother?!"

"Oh God, no! A Grim can only find nourishment in their contractor's blood. It's all about the bond. And besides, there are a lot of good parts too. Like, nothing can kill a Grim, not even another Grim, basically their contractor is their only weakness. And, um… I mean Berwald is pretty hot."

Oh. Berwald was pretty hot (and probably rendered other services aside from protection – said the blush spreading across the other's cheeks). The Norwegian inwardly facepalmed and barely refrained from asking whether Tino planned to pop the fucking question or something to someone he'd actually summoned from Hell.

The irony…

Above the shop Tino had indicated there hung a blackened wooden plaque and upon that it was spelled 'KIRKLAND' in peeling green letters, barely visible in the shade of the street lamp. Lukas knew that his boss had several brothers – who were probably in the same unsavory line of work as Arthur himself – even if the Englishman had only fleetingly mentioned their existence and had been careful not to give any unnecessary details as to the whereabouts of these mysterious siblings and as to what they were up to. Something for which Lukas didn't blame him one bit – after all family was family, all trouble and discord aside.

It was past midnight now and he peered inside through one of the side windows, which were wooden-framed and very dirty at the corners, and spotted a man at the tall, wooden counter, where several ledgers lay open in obvious disarray, next to a flickering computer screen. The man was passed out (hopefully asleep and not otherwise!), the upper half of his body toppled over and his fiery red hair spilling over the white pages.

The Norwegian went to the door – where the 'OPEN' sign was still turned outwards – and pushed the knob carefully. The small bell above the door rang and its old rusty hinges creaked as if in pain, but the man did not stir. His slumbering state became evident when it turned out that he was snoring loudly, and not even when Lukas accidentally stepped onto an empty beer can which lay discarded on the floor did he wake.

Thinking that this was much too easy and something was wrong with this picture, the pale blond went up to the counter, right under the man's nose, and purposely dug through a box of trinkets, picking up a business card of a Mr. Allistor Kirkland written in fancy letters.

Nothing.

Oh well…

The Book of Grims lay in the exact spot it had been when Tino had ripped a page from it – in the back shelves behind the counter - although the owner must have subsequently realized it had been tampered with, for now it was displayed securely inside a locked glass box.

And (precisely because it had been tampered with…?) its price had now gone up to six hundred.

A small smile tugged at the corners of the blond's mouth as he slipped carefully behind the sleeping man's chair and took off his cross-shaped barrette with nimble fingers. Where charming was helpless, lock-picking did the job and one way or the other, Lukas had the key to everything.

"Arthur?"

The green-eyed blond was still in front of his laptop, despite the late hour, typing something in concentration and a low grumble of acknowledgement was all he would bother with momentarily.

"You know that brother of yours? The one with the red hair, Allistor I think?" Lukas said tentatively.

"I don't think there was ever a way of not knowing him, mate," the Englishman muttered, still not paying attention.

The other bit nervously on his bottom lip, clutching the messenger bag into which he'd carefully stuffed the book. The bag also belonged to Allistor, but compared to the book itself it could only have counted as an insignificant loss to its owner.

"Um… the thing is… I'm afraid that I robbed him," Lukas stated eventually, holding up the bag. "I got the Book of Grims."

Arthur looked up at last, bushy brows furrowing slightly as he leaned against the backrest of his chair, pondering for a moment. "Does he know that you robbed him?" he asked.

"No."

"Well then, I suppose there's nothing to be afraid of. He should keep a better eye on his bloody things, that tosser."

To be continued

A/N – Oh, and if you're wondering where Mathias is, you'll wonder no more in the next chap ;) There, spoiler :P