Thunder rumbled menacingly overhead as Charles and I walked deeper into the bowels of downtown. I squinted up into the sky, grey clouds gathering over the sun. Charles bumped my shoulder gently.

"It looks like it's finally going to rain." He sighed. "God knows it' about time."

The air was sticky and humid and I could taste ozone on the back of my tongue. "I can't complain, but we should probably hurry up and get indoors before it starts"

Charles nodded. "We can head to the newspaper offices, if you'd like. They're just around the corner and we might be able to find out some more information on Azazel."

A droplet of rain fell on my hat, welling up and dripping off the brim. I looked down. "Sounds good. But we might need to run."

A drop splashed soundly onto Charles' nose. He flinched, glanced up, and then glanced at me. "Oh, shit."

And then the heavens opened.

We dashed down the sidewalk as rain pelted down on us from all directions, the sudden cool wind whipping our coats up. Charles held his collar with one hand, his grey suit jacket turning black in a second. Water sheeted into my eyes and I blinked furiously, cursing as I stepped in a puddle and soaked my ankles. Charles hand found mine and he tugged me after him, running in the rain.

We ducked under a forest green awning, taking shelter under the dry canopy. I leaned against the brick wall, catching my breath as the grey sky pelted down water.

Charles laughed breathlessly. "I think I've well and truly ruined this suit."

"That's a shame, it looked great on you." Charles kept laughing, his shoulders shaking up and a hand pressed over his mouth, eyes shut tightly. It took me a second to realize that he wasn't laughing anymore- he was crying. I squeezed his hand tentatively. "Hey, what's wrong?"

"Sorry." Charles hiccupped, tear tracks drying on his face. "I don't know what's come over me."

I did. "Don't worry about it. You've had a shock, it's normal to get emotional after receiving news like that."

He sagged against me, loose and tired and boneless. "My little sister is pregnant." He said out loud, as if he was still struggling to wrap his head around it. "What did I do wrong?"

I sighed. "It isn't all about you, Charles."

He scowled, pulling had hand out of mine. "I know that!" He snapped. "But I still feel like this is my fault! I wasn't there when she needed me and now she's in trouble. I fucked up, Erik!"

"Here," I passed him a cigarette. "You'll feel better."

"I doubt that." He muttered, leaning in for me to light it. My matches were slightly damp and I had to pull one from dead center in order for it so much as spark. Charles inhaled deeply, ashy blue smoke curling around his face. "I'm being a prima donna, aren't I?"

"A little bit." I held back a small smile. "Look, Charles, there are much worse things that can happen to a girl than having a baby. You should just be thankful that she's in one piece."

"I am. I mean…" He paused, searching for the right words The rain battered steadily down on the canvas shelter roof above us, the unexpected storm still going strong. "I'm glad she's healthy. But I'm really worried anyway, I mean, do you know what kind of a stigma having a child out of wedlock will bring down on her head? Especially with the father having such a… colorful past. It's certainly going to be hell for her to deal with."

I shrugged. "She could always give it up for adoption."

Charles shook his head vehemently. "Not a chance. When we were kids Raven was always talking about how she would never leave her baby on it's own if she had children. Adoption has always been a sore spot for her- I don't think she'll ever forgive her birth mother for abandoning her."

"How old was she when your parents adopted her?"

Charles smiled nostalgically around the cigarette, his voice thick with affection. "Eight. She broke into our house, and I caught her in the kitchen, stealing food. It took some persuading for mother to warm up to her, but my dad took a shine to her right away." He sighed. "She was devastated when he died. We all were." He dropped his cigarette to the ground, crushing it under his heel. "We should head in. Every minute counts, right?" It was obvious he wanted to move on. I obliged him, pushing into the buildings' revolving glass door.

"So you work here?" I asked, glancing around. The newspaper's office's lobby was small but spacious, brightly lit and neat with the paper's name- The Eagle- stenciled onto a wall in navy blue letters.

Charles shrugged. "Sort of. I use their darkroom to develop my photos. Most of the reporters don't pay any attention to me, but the editor buys some off me in return for using the premises."

"Sounds like a good deal."

"Well. It doesn't pay much, but it's better than nothing."

A man turned the corner ahead of us, nearly bumping into me. He wore a crisp shirt in a noxious shade of lime green, a waistcoat two sixes too small wrapped around his bulging middle. His eyes widened as he caught sight of Charles and he grinned, smoothing orange hair off his shiny pink forehead.

"Charles!" He roared, tone jovial but eyebrows drawn together over his forehead, not matching his smile. "You look like a drowned rat! Been taking a swim in a whiskey bottle again?"

I felt my anger stirring at the fat man's mocking tone. Charles gritted his teeth and I could see his fists as they balled in his jacket pockets.

"It's raining." He mutters half-heartedly. The fat man clapped him hard on the back.

"I'm sure it is." He chuckled cruelly. "Don't trip over your own feet, now."

"Uh… right." Charles looked mortified and angry, his ale face flushing with embarrassment. He was practically radiating discomfort. I took a step closer to them and laid a hand on Charles' shoulder possessively.

"Charles, we're going to be late." I said, pointedly not making eye contact with the fat man. He shot me a thankful glance.

"Of course. Goodbye, Harry."

The fat man leered. "Bye, Charles. Maybe I'll see you at the bar sometime." He waddled away, laughing at his own comment. Charles wrenched his arm out of my grasp and stalked down the hallway, shoes squeaking on the linoleum. I jogged to catch up w, narrowly avoiding the puddles he was leaving behind him while no doubt creating plenty of my own.

"What was all that about?" I asked.

"Nothing important." He lied. There was practically steam coming out of his ears.

"Come on, Charles, he obviously has you upset. Who is that guy?"

Charles came to a halt outside and olive green door and fished around in his trouser pocket. "Harry Leland." HE growled, stabbing the lock furiously and then cursing when he realized he had the wrong key. "He's a lawyer. He donates a lot f money to the paper, so everyone has to be nice to him." He snorted. "'Donates money.' Who am I kidding? He pays people to keep their mouths shut."

I wrinkled my nose in distaste. Bribery. The sleaziest of all crimes. Leland had given off an air of greasy filth even in his spotless, expensive clothes, and now it made sense. "He seems like a creep."

"He is." Charles went silent, examining the lock very closely. I got the feeling he was holding something back; sure enough, Charles face creased in a deep scowl. "He's a friend of Cain's. From boarding school I had to spend my summers growing up being tormented by him and my stepbrother. At first they tried to pick on Raven, but once they realized that I would defend her they shifted their attention to me." He grimaced. "I suppose I was an easier target because I never fought back unless it was for Raven."

I frowned. "Who was that?

Charles snorted. "Because she needed someone to protect her. Me, though? If I fought back it just would have been worse. Don't let Leland's girth fool you, he's all muscle." He shuddered. "And Cain always had cigarettes on him. He's smoked since he was twelve."

"What does that have to do with anything?"

"Oh look, the door's open." He exclaimed quickly, pushing into the dark room and flicking on a switch. "Come on, let's just get what we need and leave."

"Fine." Despite my curiosity, I was learning to pick my battles with Charles; he obviously wasn't going to say anymore on the matter. I followed him in.

The room was tiny, cramped and hard to navigate with thin metal filing cabinets lining the walls. They were mismatched and in different states of disrepair, bought at different times. The tallest went up to about level with my eye, and the shortest were only one drawer tall, coming up only to Charles' knee. All re-painted the same dingy grey as the walls they jutted out in all directions, making a serious toe-stubbing hazard. Trying to maneuver through the small gaps in between them was tricky, and I banged my elbows more than once.

"Where are we?" I asked, heading after Charles. He had opened one of the cabinets are was rifling through a beige file, licking the tips of his fingers and using them to peel sticky pages apart.

"The morgue." He said, not looking up.

I raised an eyebrow. "I knew the city's economy wasn't great, but I certainly hope they aren't keeping corpses in those drawers. They're a bit small."

Charles rolled his eyes, shoving the file back in and shutting the aluminum door with a clang. "The newspaper morgue, Erik, really. It's where they keep back issues. For reference."

"Ah. Right."

He pulled open another file and stared hard at the headline before sighing and dropping it back in. "I'm trying to find editions from the year Azazel was arrested. From the way Raven talked about it, it must have been a reasonably big case, so I'm sure it's mentioned somewhere. She said he was thirty-seven now, and it happened when he was twenty-five, so that's…"

I did the subtraction in my head. "Twelve years ago." A grimace spread over my face. "That's a long time to work for Shaw."

"That's a long time to work for anyone." Charles made a sound of triumph and waved a floppy packet of yellowed papers at me. "Here! I found the right year, now we just have to find the right issue. Come help me look for it."

He handed me a file. A white sticker on the front read 'February'. "This is going to take forever."

Charles frowned. "You're a detective. Surely you're used to digging."

"Yeah, through well-labeled police records. Or people's trash. I've never had this much material to get through before; I usually investigate with physical evidence. You know, taking pictures, asking questions, shooting the locks off doors."

"I certainly hope you got warrants first."

You're funny." I finished looking through the February file and picked up March. "Found anything yet?"

"Not yet." Charles shook his head. "I was twenty this year. Raven was thirteen. While she was starting junior high, Azazel was running guns for Shaw. I just can't not be bothered by that."

I scanned a brittle page for mention of a Russian murderer, a factory, a trial. "Well, she wasn't sleeping with him then. She's a grown woman."

"I know, I know." He ran a hand over his face. "But it's hard to think of her as anything but my baby sister.

I grabbed the June folder but it slipped from my fingers, dropping and spilling papers all over the floor. I swore and got down on my knees, trying to fish the scattered pages out from where they had slid under the cabinets. Charles let out a startled cry at the mess. "Jesus, Erik be careful!"

I smoothed out the wrinkled sheet I had rescued from the ground. It was from the inner folds of the paper, short blurbs about local events. Something caught my eye and I squinted at the newsprint. "I think I've got something."

"Really?" Charles knelt down, peering over my shoulder. "What is it?"

I stabbed my finger at an article near the bottom of the page. It was barely a paragraph long, with no picture, but it was the headline that had caught my attention. "'Wagner Vs. State Ends In Dismissal'." I read aloud. "Didn't Raven say that Azazel's last name was Wagner?"

"Is there anything about the case?" Charles asked. I read the first few lines carefully.

"Yeah, this is definitely it. Here, listen: 'Russian factory worker Viktor Wagner was acquitted of murder Wednesday morning in a twist ending to what initially appeared to be an open and shut case. Accused of killing a co-worker at the Strauss steel working facility, Wagner was saved from hanging by a sudden intervention by his lawyer, Harold Leland."

I heard Charles suck in a breath behind me. "Son of a bitch."

I turned to look at him. "Leland was already a certified lawyer back then?"

Charles nodded. "He's a year older than Cain; that makes him five years older than me. He took the bar exam when he was twenty-four- I remember him and Cain getting drunk on my father's good whiskey to celebrate." He scowled. "It would have taken him much longer to get any sort of job at all, but his daddy bought him a place at an upscale law firm and that was that."

"The more I hear about this guy the less I like him." I said. "And I didn't like him very much in the first place." I folded around the article and ripped it around the edges. Charles cried out.

"What are you doing?"

"I'm taking the paper with me. It might be useful." I tucked the torn article into my breast pocket, making sure it was safe and dry under my coat.

"I'm pretty sure that constitutes stealing."

"Who's going to miss it?" I stood up. "Clearly Leland was mixed up with Shaw at some point. If he knew Azazel, he might know what's happened to him."

Charles shoulders sagged. "We really have to talk to him, don't we."

"I'm afraid so."

"I was hoping to avoid that." He sighed. "Let me guess: You want me to call him up, ask him for a meeting"

I shook my head, reaching out to run my thumb along the curve of his cheek. "Not s you're uncomfortable. I saw how edgy he made you; I'm not going to force you to be in the same room as him. Especially not if there's any chance things could get ugly. Just give me his phone number and I'll do this alone."

He closed his eyes and leaned into my touch gratefully. "Thanks," he breathed.

"You don't even have to be here now. If you don't think you can deal with this…"

His eyes snapped open. "I can deal." He bit out. "I'm not weak, Erik, I just-"

"Hey calm down." I held up my hands placatingly. "There's no need to get defensive, Charles. Don't put words in my mouth; I didn't say you were weak."

His eyes closed again and he pressed his forehead to my chest. "Sorry." He glanced up at me. "Be careful what you say to Leland, okay? He's dangerous."

"Don't worry about me. I used to deal with asshole lawyers all the time when I was still a cop."

"He's more than just an arsehole, though." Charles warned. "He's smart. Keep on your toes and go in with your back to the wall."

"Why?"

Something hard glinted in his eye. "Because otherwise he'll sneak up behind you and bash your head in with a blunt instrument."