Note: This chapter contains descriptions of violence. Also, we may take liberties with how some abilities work, so please do not take these depictions as being true to canon.
Chapter 3
The lamps attached to each of the warehouses left murky, but consistent, pools of light along Elkin Street. Save for one. Dorchester Shipping. There, the muddled darkness was left to grow. And any hope of appearing inconspicuous blotted out with it.
"Is that their idea of being discreet?" Oliver looked over at his long time associate, Lin, who sighed and shrugged as they crossed the street. A bay breeze pulled at their coats, the September chill eager to stamp out any lingering remnants of summer.
They stopped in front of the double bay doors, their paint was beyond chipping and the handle was missing on the smaller personal entrance that was cut into the left one. Oliver shook his head at the amateur move. Flicking a finished cigarette to the ground, he gave Lin a nod to proceed.
Lin rapped a knuckle against the chipped paint of the smaller door and it cracked open. They waited a moment, but no one appeared in the small opening.
Lin cleared his throat. "I'm a representative of Mr. Delaney and I need to speak to Mr. Vincent."
"He's not here," a voice said from inside the gloom as the door began to shut.
"Perhaps you didn't hear me." Lin stopped the closing door with his palm and pushed, sliding it further open. "We are here to speak to Mr. Vincent," Lin said, stepping into the warehouse, his hat only just missing brushing the top of the doorframe.
"Hey!" The man jumped back from the door, a revolver in his hand. "Grab some air."
Lin raised his arms. "Feel free to check, my companion and I are unarmed."
"Hands to your head."
The man looked Lin over, giving him a light pat down, gun still outstretched.
"Now if you would take us to Mr. Vincent," Lin said, straightening his jacket as the man finished his inspection of Oliver.
The man motioned them forward with his revolver. "Thatta way."
As they entered, Oliver scanned the room. The warehouse was full of various crates of produce, dyes, and textiles. Oliver knew that most of them also had false bottoms, in which bottles of rum and whiskey could be stored for safe shipment past prying eyes. But the large still that sat half covered in the back suggested Dorchester wasn't just interested in running liquor.
"Mike! We got visitors!" the man behind them said, as a group of three men sitting around some crates playing cards came into view.
One of them, presumably the boss, stood as they approached. "Who the hell are youse?"
"Says they work for Delaney. I checked 'em, they ain't packin'."
Mike looked them over with a dubious eye. "...Is that right?" He glanced back at his other men, who all stood and came to flank him.
"Mr. Vincent, my name is Lin. I have come today because my associates discovered that your last shipment was lighter upon delivery than what had been previously arranged."
Straight to the point, not even an attempt to ease them into it. Oliver held back a sigh and reached his hand into his pocket, fingering the round object within. This was likely to go south quickly.
Mike scoffed. "Look, I'm a busy man, with lots of customers, sometimes confusion happens. Loss is just a part of business."
"That may be the case in New York, Mr. Vincent, but I can assure you that Mr. Delaney is not used to such inventory control issues here in Boston."
"Well, as you can see, we're a bit understaffed at the moment, so maybe he best make himself used to it," Mike said, crossing his arms. Behind him, his goons brought their hands to their revolvers, their faces hard.
Oliver looked over at Lin, but he shook his head. Not yet. So Oliver waited. He owed it to Lin to give him time. The rules had changed since the last time they had done this.
"Mr. Delaney recognizes the years of quality service we received from your brother. And sends his condolences on your family's recent loss. But standards must be met."
"Ain't that considerate of 'im," Mike sneered. "Maybe if he had been that considerate before, we wouldn't be in this situation."
Frustrated, Oliver pulled his cigarette case from his pocket, flipped it open, and grabbed a fresh stick. He knew that he was in no place to judge Lin's attempt. But he had watched Gene work a room enough times to know what was supposed to happen.
Before, Gene would have taken the lead; striding in with natural charm and swagger, he'd proven to be quite convincing, despite his age. And Lin had been a great compliment to Gene, his straightman filling in the facts and providing Gene material to play off of. But alone, Lin was stiff, serious, and didn't make for a real substitute, not if they wanted to end things peaceably.
"When can we expect the rest of his order, Mr. Vincent?"
Mike moved his hands to his hips, his face shifting to a smug grin. "Well see, that's gonna be a bit of a delay there. As it turns out, we are all out at the moment."
"Mr. Delaney will be disappointed to hear that."
That was the signal, this farce was over. It was Oliver's turn now. The cigarette case snapped shut with a crack that caught the attention of the man to Mike's left. The man instantly paled.
"Look, I don't particularly care what will and won't disappoint Mr. Delaney," Mike said.
Cigarette between his lips, Oliver next pulled a marble from his pocket and spun it between his fingers, the white and green swirls of the small glass orb shining bright against the black leather of his gloves. Four men in the room. More than he'd planned for, but surely he could handle it. If not, he would be meeting Gene at the diner tomorrow.
"So you can tell Delaney that if he has a problem, he can come and talk to me himself," Mike said, waving off the pale man reaching for his arm. "I'm not here to talk to kids and Chin— for god's sake, Joey. What?"
Oliver grimaced, the marble falling still in his fingers. Going to the diner also meant seeing that waitress and her stupid smile. She would probably try to talk to him again. The marble began to hover just above his fingertips, shuddering slightly as it waited to be released.
"That guy, boss. I think he's—"
"Balor," Lin said.
The marble shot out from Oliver's hand, little more than a blur.
Joey turned from his boss, the recognition of his fate dawning just as a white spot burrowed a dark hole between his eyes. Red blossoming out the back of his head, splattering the other men as he fell towards the ground.
The other guard made to pull his weapon, but the marble curved on its path through the air and passed through his skull before the gun cleared its holster.
Oliver clicked his tongue. When would the girl learn to just bring the food and leave them alone?
The man who had led them into the room was screaming. Oliver redirected the marble, flying it into his open mouth and up. The screams cut off into silence.
He couldn't fathom her persistence. The girl must be daft.
"Jesus!" Mike was bent nearly double, his eyes flicking between his fallen men all around him. His hands shook as he swatted at the blood on his arms and face.
"Jesus, Mary, and Joseph." Mike fell to his knees, small splashes rippling across the dark pools that surrounded him. "What...what did you do?" He looked at Oliver, horror and confusion leaving his eyes wide and wet. "What are you?"
Oliver said nothing. He knew that look well. It was as familiar as the iron stench in the air. Instead, he headed over to the corpse of the man who had led them in and held his hand out for his marble, dark red streaks sliding easily from its smooth contours as it floated up from its damp home and came to rest in his palm once more.
"Mr. Vincent." Lin's voice was even, grounding.
Mike snapped out of his daze. "L-look, you want booze? You can have it! As much as you want. My business is happy to give you whatever you need. Just don't—" Mike scrambled back, red flows splattering as Oliver came to stand next to Lin.
"That's very kind of you, Mr. Vincent," Lin said, striking a match and holding it out for Oliver to light his cigarette on. "But I don't think you own a business any longer."
Oliver leaned forward and took a deep breath. The weight that had been creeping over his shoulders slid away with his exhale. The fatigue was already pricking at his temple. Three at once. That had strained him more than expected.
Mike's mouth jerked open and closed for a moment, then, "W-wait! I can help you!"
"Goodbye," Lin waved the match out, "Mr. Vincent."
Oliver raised his hand, the marble hovering over the gloved open palm.
"The Italians! I know where they bring their shipments in!" Mike shrunk in on himself, his voice high and fast as he grappled for a hope of survival.
Lin raised a hand and Oliver lowered his. Mike peeked open an eye.
"I-I just got a batch in from them." He pointed with a shaky hand at the crates behind Lin, his breath coming in short pants. "Those canned tomatoes."
Lin walked over to the crates. The lid was loose on one so he opened it, and there, under two layers of cans, was a bottle of rum. "Balor, here."
Oliver dropped the marble back into his pocket. He pulled the glove off his left hand, took hold of the bottle, and let his eyes slide shut.
He saw a lighthouse, white with two red stripes banded near the top, visible from the deck of a ship. They were anchored just far enough out that the sweep of the light never reached them. Another ship approached, appearing almost too close in the dark, only one lamp visible on its own deck.
"—show you where they come in," Mike finished, as Oliver opened his eyes.
Lin looked to Oliver, who nodded in confirmation. The slight movement left his head heavy and the room unsteady beneath his feet. He brought his uncovered hand to his temple, squeezing it against the weight inside his skull. It wouldn't be like this if Gene were still here. They had been unstoppable, together.
"That won't be necessary, Mr. Vincent."
"Wha-whaddya mean?" Mike asked.
"Balor," Lin called.
"No, please!"
Oliver blinked back the dizziness and held up the marble once again. Glancing to his side, he could almost see Gene there, his eyes bright in the dark, that wicked grin on his face as he overlooked the carnage. 'Nothing personal,' he would say.
"It's just business," Oliver muttered. The marble flew from his fingers.
The angry clack of a typewriter echoed down the main hall of Everett Vale Grammar School at a steady clip, drowning out the sound of Mai's footsteps. The air inside was warm, with the musky scent of an until recently closed off space. Dust motes fluttered in every shaft of light, airy reminders of the golden fall which was rapidly approaching.
Mai paused in front of the office to take a deep breath, hoping to calm her nerves. She had to look confident if she wanted to make a good impression. And now that she had come this far, she couldn't turn back.
"Mai."
She turned at the soft voice. At the end of the hall, Mai could see a small girl, half hidden behind the door frame.
"Hello," Mai smiled.
The girl smiled back, a small hand held out as she lingered in the shadow of the door.
Mai took a step forward. "Do you need help, sweetie?"
"Come." The fingers on the small hand waved her closer. "I want to show you something."
"What is it?"
Mai's fingers stretched ahead of her.
"Miss?"
Mai blinked, her head turning to see a young man in work overalls headed towards her down the long hall.
"Did you need help finding somethin', Miss?"
Mai looked back at her hand. Why had she come this way? She pulled a smile back onto her face. "I was looking for the main office."
"Oh, you must'a missed it." The man pointed back across a length of hall that Mai had no recollection of crossing. Sheepishly, she followed him back to the office at the other end.
The young man rapped a knuckle on the frosted glass of the upper door.
"Mrs. Cole? I got a young lady, what's here to see you."
Mrs. Cole, a severe-looking elderly woman in a dark formless dress, grimaced and looked up from the typewriter, the keys sounding their sharp clicks as she continued to depress them.
"This is Miss, umm—"
"Taniyama," Mai supplied, stepping forward with a bright smile that she felt could rival Gene's. She held her hand out. "I'm Mai Taniyama, I'm here to inquire after a teaching position at your school."
Mrs. Cole looked at the hand, but did not take it. Her narrowed gray eyes flicked up to look at Mai over her glasses, the skin of her forehead pulling against the tight grey bun to furrow with wrinkles.
The man gave one last look of apology and slipped back out of the door.
"How old are you?" Mrs. Cole pushed her glasses up.
"Eighteen." Mai lowered her hand. "But I already have some experience in tutoring children and adults," she added in a rush.
"You don't say. Do you have a copy of your qualifications?"
Mai scrambled to open her bag, holding it against herself with one arm and praying that the trembling of her fingers wasn't visible. Mai could feel Mrs. Cole's eyes bore into her as she fumbled with the buckle. She passed the handwritten sheet over, immediately noticing the crease that ran across the paper.
Mai could feel her heartbeat rising. Her breaths growing shorter. She had to focus on something else. Three pens, there were three pens on the desk.
"Where did you go to school? I don't see that listed here."
"I was privately tutored." Mai chewed on her lip. Five pins in her hair.
"Do you have a letter of recommendation from your tutor to attest to your scholarship?"
"Uh, no." Mai ran a finger over the buckle of her bag. She had ten, no, nine copies of her papers in her bag.
"And why not?"
Mrs. Cole stood from her desk when Mai didn't answer. Mai counted six ivory buttons marching up the front of her gown as she tried to speak past the lump in her throat.
"I suggest you request a letter of support from your tutor if you wish to continue in this attempt."
"I'm afraid I can't do that. My Mo—" Mai took a deep breath. "My...tutor has passed away."
"That is unfortunate to hear," Mrs. Cole said, so automatically that Mai had to squeeze her fists against the flare of anger that rose up. Clearly, the only thing Mrs. Cole found unfortunate was having to continue this conversation.
"I do have a recommendation from the priest at the hospital. And I could ask some of the nurses if you need more."
"Hospital?" Mrs. Cole looked at the paper once more, her face twisting in a way that reminded Mai of Oliver's when she had held her pocket square out to him.
Her heart sank to see that look of disdain, but she fought it, anger-fueled resilience pulling her shoulders back. If Mrs. Cole thought she was going to intimidate her with that look, she had another thing coming. Mai hadn't spent the last five weeks trying to get Oliver to open up to be dissuaded by such a pale comparison of a scowl.
"Yes, I helped tutor the children and some of the adults as well. We worked on both reading and writing comprehension."
"How is it you came to be employed in such a place?"
"I wasn't an employee, I… volunteered," Mai said, standing a little straighter. That was true, the nurses had asked her if she wanted to tutor and she had jumped at the chance.
"Volunteered?" Mrs. Cole didn't seem to know how to take in this information. Her wrinkles deepened as she stared at Mai, lips pursed.
Mai could see now that she had been wrong. Mrs. Cole's scowl didn't remind her of Oliver at all. Oliver used his scowls the same way Gene used his smiles; to keep others at arm's length. And it only made Mai want to learn more about them. Not Mrs. Cole though, her sour face seemed void underneath. There was nothing to learn, just a pompous revulsion that promised nothing more than continued poor treatment.
"I don't think we are in need of any additional help at this time." Mrs. Cole held the sheet back out towards Mai. "Please shut the door on your way out." She sat back down, the clacking of the keys sealing Mai's dismissal.
Mai put away the paper and buckled her bag.
"Have a nice day," she said, pulling the door closed behind her. The typewriter keys continued as she made her way out of the school.
Mai sent one last smile to the young man from before as she slipped past him and headed up the street at a quick pace, hand holding her hat against a breeze that seemed to want to whisper in her ear.
The clock tower at the end of the street began to chime and Mai stopped, letting each of the eleven rings wash away the previous hour. She sighed, wondering if she should try to take a nap before work. She needed to refresh if she was going to make any progress on getting Oliver to talk to her tonight.
"Thank you so much! Have a great night!" Mai called out from the counter as she wrapped a set of silverware.
"Mai, do you have to yell your goodbyes to every goddamned customer that comes in here?" asked Ayako, the diner's only female regular. She had her head on the counter, but with her pearls and pinned hat, it didn't look very comfortable.
"Ayako, do you have a headache again?"
"I have a delicate condition," Ayako muttered.
"Yeah, and it's called a gin rickey," Monk said as he brought a cup of coffee to the ailing woman.
Mai's mouth fell open. "You can't mean she has a..." Mai checked to make sure no one was looking and lowered her voice anyway. "A hangover?"
Monk and Ayako laughed, the latter grabbing at her head in regret as she did so.
"Yes, Mai," Monk said. "That is what happens when you drink too much, and it must have been a helluva lot to get her like this. I've seen her down drinks like you wouldn't believe."
"Hey," Ayako said, though not bothering to raise her head. "It's not my fault if I know how to have a good time."
"Says the woman who still has a hangover at eight the following night."
"Like you're one to talk! Need I remind you about the new shoes you still owe me?"
"What's that you say?" Monk raised his voice, leaving Ayako cringing.
Mai shushed them, her eyes landing on the man sitting in the booth near the door. "You better be careful, or that cop might overhear."
"Who, that guy?" Monk tilted his head in the booth's direction. "He's not a Prohi. He came in asking questions a while back, told me he's a homicide detective."
"But he could tell someone."
Ayako waved her hand dismissively. "Some laws are made to be broken. Besides, people need a drink if they're going to listen to him play."
"Play?" Mai looked back at Monk.
"I play in a band at a speak, any night I'm not here and sometimes after we close up. The diner's my side gig, really. Keeps me legit." He gave Mai a wink.
"That won't save you if they catch you in a raid," Ayako said.
"If they get me, at least I know I'll have you to keep me company in jail." Monk leaned against the counter with a self-satisfied smirk.
"Not likely, you know my father would never allow that."
Ayako's father owned a large private hospital in North Boston and having the bulk of their family funds tied up in that had saved them from the crash last fall. According to Monk, she was a pretentious heiress who only cared about herself and securing a rich husband.
Mai liked her though. With her beautiful clothes and a mouth that could put any of the men in this place to shame, Ayako had a sense of importance and control that Mai envied. And she had always treated her kindly. Besides, being on a husband hunt didn't explain why she would spend her days recovering from a good night out in a boxcar diner like theirs. She wasn't likely to land a rich husband anywhere near here.
Monk scoffed. "Guess I know who I can throw in front of me so I can get away, then."
Ayako gave him a dark look in return.
"Please, Monk, you can't go to jail!" Mai said, drawing their attention back to her. "I need this job and I don't have the funds to bail you out!"
Monk smiled. "Don't you worry, kid. I ain't going nowhere."
"Speaking of jobs, weren't you going to stop by that school today?" Ayako asked.
"Oh." Mai began wiping at an invisible spot on the counter. "I don't think it worked out."
"What school was it? I should go talk to them. They are clearly idiots," Monk said.
At first, Mai had been nervous about telling Monk she wanted to be a teacher. She didn't want him to worry about her leaving until she had something lined up, and he really did seem overprotective of her despite the short time they had known each other. But no sooner had he found out than he'd slid firmly into supporting her.
"Thank you, but I don't think there is anything you could say that would help."
"Don't worry, Mai." Ayako wrapped a hand around Mai's. "There's always next time."
"It's fine." Mai nodded and gave what she hoped passed for a small smile. She really didn't want them to worry. She was just starting out, she knew there would be more opportunities. "I didn't want to work there anyway, the secretary was terrible. Besides, I like it here and Monk would be lost without me."
"You're like family, kid." Monk gave her head an affectionate rub before heading back to the kitchen.
Mai got back to wrapping the silverware, a real smile replacing the fake she had been forcing. He was right, Tufts did feel like home. It was strange to think about how nervous she had been when she started. Looking back, she wasn't sure what she had been so afraid of. The work was exhausting, the hours long, the pay little, but she far preferred it over the factory job. Despite the circumstances that led to her employment, Tufts actually was in a nicer area of town, and closer to her flat.
But the best part, the part she hadn't even known how much she needed, was talking with the customers. The factory hadn't provided much in terms of human interaction, and now she realized that she had been starved for it.
It wasn't all great. Some customers were very rude, and liked to take their frustrations out on her. They tended to tip very little, or not at all, no matter how hard she tried to please them. She concluded that they must be against the very concept of waitressing, which she couldn't do much about.
But on the whole, she loved talking to people. Greeting them, asking about their day, learning about their joys and troubles. There was always so much to learn from the different lives. And even more to learn from what they didn't share. Everyone here seemed to have some level of mystery to them, with lives more complex than she could even fathom. But trying was half the fun.
Mai refilled Ayako's coffee, the older woman mumbling a thanks into the countertop.
And no one was more mysterious than the twins. With the amount of heft they had at the diner, Mai had wondered if they were the sons of some politician on their way to positions of importance within the city or state. But she didn't know their last name, and Ayako didn't seem to have anything to say about them when Mai had asked about the wealthy families she knew.
Mai cleared another table, collecting the dirty dishes and payment. Only a five cent tip, but at least they hadn't stiffed her completely or underpaid the bill.
She had also considered, based on the very healthy tips they had continued to leave her, that they could be wealthy businessmen who had somehow managed to becomes highly successful at a young age, despite the country being in the midst of a Depression.
Either way, she was impressed, and at least somewhat jealous. They couldn't be too much older than her and they seemed so established. Where she couldn't seem to even find a way to get solid footing. Some people had all the luck.
Mai grinned. On the other hand, she was pretty sure she was making progress with Oliver. He'd even nodded his head when she brought him his tea last week. His intense punctuality helped her to have the beverage ready to set down as soon as he arrived. 10:30 every Thursday, practically on the nose. Gene's arrival was always a bit more on the sporadic side. He had appeared before his brother once, but he usually seemed to saunter in sometime between five and fifteen minutes past the appointed meeting time.
She dropped the dishes in the bin and headed to the register to take care of the bill. Covering a yawn with her hand, she punched in the total. The ringing of the drawer popping open was echoed by the door. Mai placed the money inside and turned to greet her newest customer.
"Welcome to Tuf—" The greeting died in her throat, smile falling away as her mouth dropped open at the black-clad figure passing through the doorway.
What? Why? He was hours early.
Evidently, she wasn't the only one shocked, as a momentary hush fell over the diner. The cop near the door froze, fork halfway to his mouth, eyes obviously trained on the new arrival.
Ignoring the stares that followed him, Oliver slowly made his way across the diner and sunk into his usual booth, his still adorned head resting against the wooden backboard of the seat.
As if time had become unfrozen, conversation and movement started up again. The cop opened up a newspaper and buried his nose in the pages.
Mai hurried and got the tea started. Not that it was a crime for him to be early, but she was annoyed nonetheless. Just when she thought she had learned his habits…
Unsurprisingly, Oliver glared at her when she brought him the tea. "You're late."
"No, I believe you're early," she said with a forced smile. "I'll have you know, the pot pie isn't ready yet."
"Fine, just tea for now," he said, his tone even rougher than usual. He sat with a noticeable slouch.
Mai blinked. "Don't tell me you have a hangover too."
He just glared at her again, which Mai took as her cue to busy herself elsewhere.
She waited as long as she could, taking and serving orders, setting up mugs, she even wiped out the pie case for a second time that day. But after an hour of Oliver doing nothing but sitting in the booth, staring out the window, and sipping tea, Mai was itching to go back over to the table. Maybe she could ask him for his hat. It was improper for him to have kept it on. And his tea had to be cold by now. If he even had any left.
Oliver's head bobbed forward before tipping back up sharply. His eyes, tracking the room in case someone had noticed, met with hers. Was it just the shadow of his hat or did he have large bags under his eyes? Mai held up an empty mug and gestured to it with a tilt of her head.
Oliver blinked, his own head tilting in a mirrored image that forced Mai to hold down a smile. Then he nodded and turned back to the window.
Mai jumped as someone snapped their fingers in front of her face. "Y-yes?!"
Ayako smirked. "Honey, I know he's gorgeous, but you're letting yourself get distracted."
"What? I'm not—"
Ayako pointed to the pie in front of her. "This doesn't look like my bill."
Mai gasped, apologizing over Ayako's laughter as she hurried the plate away and replaced it with the bill.
Ayako soon called her goodbyes, a smile on her face and color back in her cheeks that wasn't just makeup. That was another thing Mai loved about this place. It was somewhere people came to feel better. And she was happy to think that she had helped get them there.
The tea ready, Mai finally headed back towards Oliver's booth.
"Hey, I brought you a pot." She poured fresh tea in the mug and placed the small pot on the table. She wanted to ask if he expected Gene early as well, but Oliver had kept his attention on the window.
If he was hungover, that was his fault, and he didn't have to be even ruder than usual. Her anger flared, but then she thought again. What if he was actually sick? She could remember one of the girls at the hospital who only got quieter when she wasn't feeling well. And even if it was his fault, that didn't mean he wasn't suffering now.
"Do you want me to take your hat?" Mai made sure to soften her voice so as not to upset his potentially delicate ears and his always delicate pride.
Oliver pulled the hat from his head and looked at it as if wondering how it had gotten there, then handed it over without a word.
"Do you think Gene will be here soon?" Mai hung the hat on the hook. Without its shadow, Mai could see that the bags under his eyes were definitely there, as was a sheen of sweat coating his even paler than usual complexion.
"If you don't think he is coming soon, do you want something else to eat while you wait for him?" She reached past him to pull a menu from the holder and placed it in front of him.
Oliver gave the menu the most cursory of glances and then looked away, shaking his head.
Mai just watched him. She felt like she should try harder.
Oliver didn't laugh at her jokes or return her smiles like Gene did, but he always left more than was needed to cover their bill. Sometimes as much as twice the amount. At first, Mai had hoped that meant there was something else there, some hidden kindness that motivated him. But the more she thought about it, the more it felt off. It just wasn't practical, and everything about Oliver seemed practical. Painfully so at times.
She chewed her lip. Come to think of it, she had never seen either of them look at the menu, even when she had tried pointing out specials. Gene only ever smiled and asked for her favorites. Could it be...
"If you want..." Mai leaned a little closer. "I could read it to you?"
Oliver froze, his jaw set, but he didn't look at her, confirming Mai's suspicions.
"It's nothing to be ashamed of," Mai said, lowering her voice further. "I'm happy to help."
"Just, the tea."
"Noll," the nickname felt strange on her tongue, but perhaps it would put him at ease. "I...I could teach you, if you'd like?"
He looked at her, and Mai felt like this was the first time he had really looked at her. His critical eyes drew her in, a question hiding behind their cold blue.
"Why...are you still here?" His voice lacked its usual bite, but the words cut nonetheless.
Mai's face heated, her mouth falling open. But she kept herself from yelling back. She had only offered to help him. She knew she couldn't make him want her help. But he could have just said no. He didn't have to be an ass about it.
"Why...do you always try to talk to us?" he continued.
"I didn't realize I needed to justify being friendly."
"We don't need people being friendly to us."
She crossed her arms. "Your brother doesn't seem to mind."
Oliver's trademark glare was back. "My brother is an idiot who doesn't know what's good for him."
"Well, I think he's wonderful." She put her hands on her hips. "He's always treated me kindly, unlike a certain someone."
"He's like that with most women," he said, staring back at her. "You're not special."
Mai swallowed, suckerpunched. She already knew that, or at least, suspected. But that didn't mean she was ready to hear it pointed out so bluntly. For what it was worth, she liked the attention.
She glared at him. "I knew a cat like you once."
"Excuse me?" Oliver glared back, the sweat glistening in little beads on the sides of his temple.
"He was a mean, disagreeable thing. It took me years to get him to come around." Mai leaned in, an angry finger pressed against his shirt. "But by the time I left, I had him purring in my lap."
Oliver's face went blank and he looked towards the window once more. "I'd like to sit in peace until Gene arrives."
Mai fumed. He did not get to just blow her off like that! She pulled back her finger, ready to poke him again until he acknowledged her.
A bead of sweat ran down the side of his face, bouncing with his adam's apple as he swallowed.
Wait, maybe he wasn't blowing her off. He was running away. Did that mean...had she just…won?
Mai leaned back and pulled at the edge of her apron. She wanted to give herself a cheer, for finally telling him off. But somehow, her heart wasn't in it.
So instead of celebrating, she walked away. She had work to do anyway.
The diner turned out quiet that evening. The dinner crowd faded away, leaving less than a handful of people in the small space. The sounds of the percolator brewing mixed with the odd snatch of conversation left a muted feeling to the air. Time ticked by slowly, and Mai busied herself managing the dishes and taking care of the few requests that came her way.
Oliver continued to sip at his tea periodically, only breaking the pattern once to lift the pot and refill his mug. This time, Mai made sure to steer clear of him, her stomach turning every time she even looked in his direction.
Finally, once another hour had passed, Mai ran out of things to keep her occupied, and she headed through the kitchen.
"Monk, could you please watch the front? I'm taking a five minute break."
"Sure." He raised an eyebrow at her. "Hey, are you—"
She pushed through the back door before he could finish asking if she was okay.
Outside, the night was chilly, but she hadn't thought to grab her cardigan. She just had to get some air.
Mai wrapped her arms around herself and paced. The crisp air licked against her overheated skin.
"Not special." What did he know, anyway?
Maybe she didn't want to be special.
Maybe she just wanted to have friends, to get along with the people around her.
"We don't need people being friendly to us," she mimicked with a sneer. "Prick."
Mai dropped to sit on a stack of crates behind the diner. Wanting friends was something every normal person wanted. Just because he was so strange didn't mean he got to make her feel bad about it.
She shivered, the cold of the wall spreading across her back. Quelling her anger and leaving her eyelids heavy...
She was in her mother's room at the Harrison's. Mai always wound up there whenever she was upset, buried beneath the colorful starburst pattern of her mother's quilt.
As one of the few things they had brought with them when they had moved, being beneath the quilt always felt like a safe space. Her space.
The bed shifted, and Mai felt her mother's hand rub her back over the covers.
"Shall I ask who started it today?" Her voice was quiet, and the thick cover only muffled it further. But Mai didn't have to hear the question to know what it was. It was always the same thing.
Mai pulled the cover from her head with a huff. "Jonathan is a liar," she pouted.
Her mother smiled wryly. "Mai, that is not an easy thing to accuse someone of."
"It's true!" Mai bounced slightly with the force of her reply. "He said he couldn't see Annette, even when she was sitting right in front of them! It was very rude. And Constance agreed with him! I hate them both." Mai pulled the blanket back over her head.
"Mai, dear. We don't hate people."
"I do," Mai said from under the quilt.
"Mai." Her mother pulled at the cover, laying down on the small bed next to her.
Looking into her mother's brown eyes, Mai let out the tears that she had been fighting to keep down. "Am I strange, mama?"
Mother pulled her close. "No, no, my dearest," she soothed, running a hand through her hair. "You're not strange, you're special."
"Hey!"
Mai jerked awake. She was slumped over on the crates in the alley behind the diner. Her fingers felt stiff with cold. How long had she fallen asleep for?
"I said get lost, would ya?"
Mai looked up at the angry voice filling the alley, but couldn't see anyone. She heard something fall a short distance away, clattering across the bricks. Keeping low, Mai scooted around Monk's car to try to get a look.
The end of the alley was brightly lit by a light above the pharmacy shop door. A man in a familiar flat cap stood beneath it, one hand in his pocket and the other pointing at the air in front of him.
"Listen here pally, I already said I can't do nothin' for ya. So scat." Gene waved his hand and turned his back on his invisible conversation partner to head further into the alley.
But he hadn't made it two steps before Mai saw him stop, body straightening and head pulling back as if someone had grabbed his neck. Mai squinted, and there it was. How had she missed it before?
Behind Gene stood a bear of a man, or at least, she thought it was a man. She couldn't see him clearly; he flowed in and out of sharpness, and though sometimes she could make out a white eye or the shine from the metal on his fingers, most of him was dark and moving like smoke. And he towered over Gene.
Mai gripped her fingers against the car, a shiver running down her spine. She had to help. She had to do something. Unsure of her next move, Mai began to rise, when she felt something cold press against her leg. No, it wasn't cold. It was freezing. So much that it almost burned.
She looked down and saw a small hand gripping the skirt on her thigh. Following the arm, she saw a boy, half his face hidden in the shadow of the crates he hid behind.
He brought a finger of his free hand to his mouth. "Shhhhh."
"But...I have to help him." Mai glanced back at Gene, who now seemed to be grappling with the dark force.
"No." The boy's voice was faint and raspy. It reminded her of rustling leaves. "The dark man will see us."
"I have to go." Mai stood, but he didn't let go, her skirt pulling him out from the safety of the crates.
The light fell across his dark hair and through the hole where his other eye should have been.
Mai screamed.
The next thing she knew, a warm hand fell over her mouth and began pulling her away from the boy.
Mai thrashed, before realizing this was a threat she knew how to deal with. She clamped her mouth down.
"Yikes!" Her captor ripped his hand from her teeth and unwound himself from her.
Mai whirled around to find Gene shaking out an injured hand.
"Gene!" she gasped. "I-I'm so sorry, I thought..."
He held out his uninjured hand. "Forget about it. It was on me. Ya think I would have learned my lesson about surprising you after the first time..."
Mai quickly turned back to her side, but there was no sign of the boy.
"Wait..." She looked back towards the mouth of the alley, but the shape that had been attacking Gene had also disappeared. "Where did he go?"
"Where did who go?"
"That...man...or whatever it was that was attacking y—." She clapped a hand over her mouth.
Gene was looking at her differently now, expectantly. "Mai?"
She shook her head, eyes wide. "N-never mind. Please forget that. My eyes were playing tricks."
"Are you so sure?" He stepped closer.
No. No. This couldn't be happening again.
"It was nothing." Her knees wobbled, and she stumbled, falling back onto the crates. "I didn't— I didn't see anything!"
"Mai. Calm down. It's alright."
She'd only just gotten a fresh start.
"Please don't tell anyone! Please—"
Gene laid a hand on her shoulder. "Mai, don't worry." He leaned down, whispering in her ear. "I see them too."
Mai froze. When he pulled back, she looked up at him in disbelief.
"You're not alone," he said gently. Like before, she could see no hint of ridicule in his smile.
Tears welled up in her eyes. "...You're not lying?"
"Now why would I lie about something like that?" He offered her a hand.
Mai wiped her eyes. Then, hesitantly, she placed her hand on his. He pulled her back to her feet.
"...Since when?" she asked. Now that she'd calmed down, she had nothing but questions on her mind.
Gene shrugged. "All my life, really. I know others who are the same too. Like this one girl…"
Wait. "A girl?"
"Yeah…" A shadow crossed his face, but then he shook his head and the smile returned. "Anyway, why don't we head inside where it's warm?"
Head still spinning, Mai nodded and turned to follow him to the door. But then she stopped.
He looked back, hand on the door knob. "What's wrong?"
"I...just remembered I would rather stay outside with the ghosts."
Gene sighed and held the door open. "What did he say this time?"
Mai just shook her head and passed him into the kitchen.
"Hey, I was just coming to look for you," Monk said, untying his apron with a smile that fell as Gene followed Mai in through the back door.
"Sorry," Mai sniffed, her hands checking her hat and apron.
Monk looked like he was about to say something else, when Gene moved past her.
"Hey, Monk. How's it? Ohh, is that mine?" Gene stuck his finger in the gravy that adorned a plate of roast beef.
Mai smacked his finger away. "And what if that hadn't been yours?"
Gene just smiled and popped the digit into his mouth. "Mmm." Then used his damp finger to poke her nose. "But it was." And he scooped up the plate and headed out of the kitchen, ignoring Mai's cry of "That's beside the point!"
A moment later, he slid into the booth across from Oliver. Looking down at his plate, Gene let out a deep sigh.
What took you so long? his brother asked.
Whaddya mean, I'm on time, aren't I? Gene snapped. He grabbed his utensils and set to work.
A few mouthfuls of beef later, Gene decided that the radio silence coming from his brother was worse than usual. He looked up, and for the first time noticed the pale complexion of his twin.
Noll. He dropped his fork and reached over for Oliver's gloved hand.
Oliver's eyes were glassy, the purple bags beneath them giving his face a sunken look. His hair, damp with sweat, clung to his forehead.
Noll, what happened? Gene pulled at the fingers of the glove, prying it away from sticky skin.
Had a job. Oliver closed his eyes as Gene slipped his fingers between his brother's overheated ones. There were four of them.
Four? Jesus. What had Lin been thinking, asking him to handle four at once? And untested, at that. They'd decided two should be the max for the first time alone. Two.
Gene felt a small trickle of energy move out of Oliver and through his hand. He visualized the energy as a ball and allowed it to run though his whole body, the orb glowing slightly larger as it did so. Then he passed it back.
You should have told them no, Noll.
Oliver sighed, his eyes opening as a second batch of power passed over to Gene, this one stronger than the last.
You know I can't do that.
Gene glared at his brother and sent the buffed current back his way.
Ever since they were little, Oliver had needed Eugene to help him when it came to managing his ability. Gene could remember being amazed the first time he had watched Oliver make a rock hover above his palm. "More, more!" he had called, giving Oliver one object after another to 'hold' in the air. By the time their mother had come in, nearly everything not larger than them was moving about the room.
Her scream had ended the fun. But that wasn't the bad part. The bad part came two hours later, when Gene had gone to check on Oliver in the time-out corner, only to find his brother unconscious, sweating, and barely breathing on the floor.
Gene wasn't a religious man, but it was only by the grace of something bigger than himself that he unknowingly began the transfer of energy that most likely prevented his brother's heart from stopping at the tender age of five.
Since then, Oliver had never used his 'lifting' (or what Masako later explained was called 'telekinesis' by the Spiritualists) unless Gene was there to help him regulate the power. Never, until now.
Now, the most he could do was recharge him once a week, and do some manner of damage control. But what if one day, he couldn't be here?
You worry too much, Oliver said.
That's rich, coming from you.
You want to come back? Oliver finally looked across the table at him.
Gene scowled. You know I can't do that either.
Then Oliver pulled his hand away, and their connection broke with a snap. Gene followed his gaze to see Mai approaching the table with Oliver's plate and a cup of coffee.
Turning back to his brother, Gene watched as Oliver hurried to tug his glove back in place. What had him so worked up?
Mai set the plate down without so much as a word. Then placed the coffee in front of Gene with a smile. "Do you need anything else?" she asked, her eyes firmly planted on Gene.
"I'm good," he smiled. Something was very weird here. "Noll, did you want more tea?"
Oliver shook his head. But Mai was still looking at Gene.
You sure? You look like you could do with—
Just get her out of here.
Gene winced. That was harsh, even for Oliver.
Widening his smile, Gene turned back to Mai. "I guess we're good, thanks."
Mai started to walk away, but turned around and grabbed the teapot off the table before heading back to work.
Gene glared at his brother. What the hell, Noll?
Oliver broke the crust of his pot pie, steam billowing out past his fork and thinning through the air. What?
Don't even start that shit with me, Oliver Griffith. What did you say to Mai?
Who said I said—
Stop. Gene crossed his arms. What kinda rube you take me for? I know what it looks like when you piss off a girl.
Oliver scooped out a bite of mixed vegetables and brought it to his mouth.
Come on, Gene said.
Unwittingly, Oliver's eyes flicked in the direction of the counter, where Mai was pouring coffee for another customer. She knows we can't read.
Gene blinked. What, so you snapped at her over something like that? Who cares.
It means she's paying attention. She could be trouble down the line.
Gene stared at him. A thought began to emerge in his mind, but he pushed it back before his brother could hear. You don't know that, he said instead.
What if she starts asking the wrong kind of questions? Oliver took another bite. She's already seen enough as it is.
She's just naive, Noll. She ain't no risk.
Then do us all a favor and don't encourage her.
Gene sat in silence and watched him eat.
After a minute, he glanced at Mai behind the counter, who caught his gaze and sent back a shy smile.
Back there in the alley...she had been upset, so in a moment of sympathy, he had let it spill. Ideally, he would have liked to talk with her longer. But now he wondered, should he have told her anything at all?
Gene turned back to Oliver. His color looked like it had come back a little. His brow no longer glistened with sweat.
An uneasy feeling settled in Gene's stomach.
Maybe, this time, it would be different. Oliver seemed oddly concerned for her. More concern than he would usually show a stranger, at least. Maybe this time, if push came to shove, he would say no.
But for now, Gene decided, the less Oliver knew about Mai, the better.
AN: Special joint author's note since we are posting this from the same room instead of from states apart!
Thank you to all of our reviewers; Snavej, Cabbit and the Weasel, WhereDidSweetieGo, FrenchCirce, Soulsborne123, Gally619, orangestorange, and our very enthusiastic guest reviewer(s).
Posting schedule: At this point we plan on posting a chapter a month for this story. We will try to keep you updated if that changes in the future.
Well we are off to the museum to see the prohibition exhibit and do some research. :)