Seven Devils
Chapter 12 / Life is Better with Good Friends
"If either of them falls down, one can help the other up. But pity anyone who falls and has no one to help them up."
— Ecclesiastes 4:10
"An active search for Marlene Ter-Gabrielyan is currently underway in Galveston, Texas. The police have units discharged to all parts of the city, on the lookout for the main suspect in the murder of Reginald Smoulders, the local fisherman who was found dead yesterday, in the West cargo terminal in Port Industrial.
Miss Ter-Gabrielyan is already wanted in New-Haven in connection to the murder of Theresa Armitage, a 23-year-old student from Yale University. The sheriff of Galveston Police Department Matthew Loyster believes that the two cases are connected. A picture of the suspect was found among the private possessions in the victim's residence, tying Marlene Ter-Gabrielyan to a second murder investigation."
Marlene switched the channel, "...an order for her arrest has been issued this morning. She is being charged with double homicide — "
"Marlene Ter-Gabrielyan will be trialed in New-Haven..."
"Steve, this is unlike anything we've seen in a long time —"
"Two murders, now how did she —
"...this girl is the true Devil."
"You're gonna see the true Devil pretty damn soon, you pampered little bitch!" Marlene hurled the remote at the TV, aiming for the anchor's smiley face. Why the hell was she smiling anyway? She was reporting murder, for Christ's sake.
The door opened and Garth strolled in, oblivious to her fit of rage, "Hey, I got us tacos, I wasn't sure — " he stopped, catching on the bad vibes, "What happened?"
"I feel like I'm in Salem and it's witch trials, and I have a weird birthmark," Marlene told him, close to tears. She then paused, noticing something on his head, "Is that a cowboy hat?"
"Howdy,"Garth tipped it with a pleased smile, "D'you like it?"
Marley opened her mouth to answer but then closed it. Better not to piss off the only person who could help her right now. So she nodded and gave him a tight-lipped smile. It seemed enough for Garth.
"I think they're gonna find me soon," she said, "It's just a matter of time before they check this dump." Garth stayed silent, his expression weirdly guilty. As if there was something he wasn't telling her. "What? What else is wrong?"
Garth put the bag with tacos on the table and trudged to the bed, head hung low. He sat down next to Marlene, "So, I've been up and about 'round town," he said with a deep Southern accent that went completely unappreciated, "And, um, also been to the West docks — "
"What?" Marlene cut him a disbelieving glare.
"I needed to see the crime scene, okay? And there was nothing there to see anyway, they'd already taken his body — "
Marley cupped her face in horror, "Oh, God..."
"Oh, come on," Garth patted her on the back rather awkwardly, "It's gonna be just fine, you'll see. And soon you'll be grinnin' like a possum eatin' a sweet tater."
"Just say it already."
His smile fell. "Reggie's shapeshifter friends are looking for you," Garth said really fast and winced when Marley turned to him.
"Are you serious?" she whispered.
He nodded. "I'm sorry — "
"We need to get out of here," Marley sprung from the bed and started packing, "As soon and as far as possible."
"Ye-ah, about that," Garth let out a nervous chuckle, "All the roads are kind of being, um, patrolled? You know, in case you decided to pull a Billy the Kid on 'em? Kill a bunch of sheriffs, steal a horse?"
Marlene gave him the what-the-hell-are-you-talking-about look and dropped the bag, falling into yet another fit of panic, "Do I just turn myself in?"
"Oh, no. No, no way," Garth shook his head, "They're gonna kill you."
She was almost tempted to call Dean or Sam to ask them for help. But they were probably half-way across America, on a completely different case. They'd already done so much for her, she didn't want to be even more of a nuisance.
Alright, Marlene, she told herself, you wanted to be on your own, and that's what you got. Now stop moping and start pulling yourself together. That ass isn't gonna save itself. Even though that's what it was technically going to do.
She had a sudden revelation, "We need to find out who did it."
"Did what?" asked Garth.
"Killed Reggie. Look," Marlene took out the note from her bag, "This was in the envelop. Whoever put it there is the culprit. And then they called the police. It was a setup."
Garth read the note and frowned, "I mean...I suppose Reggie couldbe having some troubles with one of the guys in the pack. I've seen them squabble a lot on his boat."
"Great! Well, there we have it," Marley exclaimed, seeing a flicker of hope on the horizon, "If the real killer is found, they'll get off my back."
It seemed Garth had some doubts about it, "That's possible, yeah. But why would they leave a note? And call you..." he looked at the paper again, "...angelette?"
"I don't know," Marlene said loudly. Liar, liar, pants and everything else on fire because she was going to Hell. Oh, wait, she couldn't even get there. "Because they're psychotic killers?"
That seemed good enough to persuade Garth, "Okay-dokey, then I'm gonna snuff out the killer and show him a real Western welcome."
"Sounds good to me. Let's go — "
"Nah-uh, I'm workin' alone," Garth stood up, all business, "You're staying here, lady. I don't need you attracting attention with your good looks and your criminal record."
Marlene had him pinned to a place with a stubborn stare but eventually let out a loud sigh. He was right, she would be arrested five minutes after leaving the room.
"Where are you gonna go?"
"Check out the boat, lurk around that pub they love, get a pint or two," Garth adjusted his ridiculous hat in the mirror and flicked some dust off his red velvet jacket, "Try not to kill anyone while I'm gone. And don't let the door hit ya' where the good Lord split ya!"
Unfortunately he closed the door before the pillow Marlene'd charged at his face found its aim. Ah! What a prick. She hoped he wouldn't get killed though. How in the world had he got himself into hunting?
With a loud sigh, Marlene fell on the squeaky bed, feeling every little spring poke into her back. Were beds in prison more comfortable? If so, it didn't sound that bad already. Maybe she could get used to that life. Who knows? Perhaps, it was just like in the Chicago musical, and a sexy Richard Gere would make her a star. Or they'd think she's mad because of the voices in her head and would send her to the loony bin. Marlene, Interrupted. Endless possibilities, one brighter than the other. At least it wouldn't last long, with the whole Apocalypse thing. Only about...42 months, was it? She'd had cereals in her cupboard that lasted longer.
A knock on the door jarred Marley out of the self-destructive manifestation process, thrusting her back into the panic mode. She shot up from the bed and grabbed the gun she'd put on the night stand. God, she didn't even know who to use it. Were there even bullets in that thing?
Marlene prowled to the door on tiptoes, back to the wall. She craned her neck and took a look in the peep hole. "Fuck," she hissed out. There was a man in a black coat patiently waiting by the door. He didn't look like a policeman, though, which meant...
"Open up, little angelette! I know you're in there," he sing-sang. Marlene flinched away from the door. Oh, shit, he was a shapeshifter. The one who'd left that note. Garth'd said there was an entire mafia, and that guy definitely looked like he could put a horse head into your bed. But...was that a British accent?
Marley backed away from the door, aiming the gun straight ahead in case the shapeshifter decided to burst through it. But then her back met something solid, and it wasn't a wall. She whipped around and pointed the gun at — what the hell?
"I did try knocking," the man told her ruefully.
Marlene stumbled back, her hand trembling, "How...h-how did you?..."
"Oh, that? Just some bibbidi-bobbidi."
"Who the hell are you?"
The man stopped, a wicked smile curved his lips, "Of course, where are my manners? Name's Crowley," he walked closer. Marley took a step back, staring at him warily, "Enchante, mademoiselle."
"You're not a shapeshifter." At least that much was clear.
Crowley looked insulted, "One of those skin-crawling slimy buggers? 'F course not."
"Then what are you?" Marley gripped the gun tighter. He glanced at it with amusement.
"You might've met my former employer. White eyes, passionate, extremely unpleasant — "
Her face wen slack, "You're a demon?" Then why couldn't she see him?
"Well aren't you a bright little Judy?" Crowley sneered, "Yes. King of the Crossroads now, climbing up that corporate ladder. See, there's been a slight change of management. A little old coup, if you will," he walked to the window and moved the curtains to look outside. Then he demon turned back to Marlene, "Thought I'd take the trouble to introduce myself to our most...cherished patrons."
"You killed the shapeshifter, Reggie. You framed me. Why?"
"Because he was going to kill you and that would make me really sad," Crowley told her, "As for the framing..." he grimaced, "I guess I did make a call to the local sheriff. Apparently, every lad in uniform got his baton up for you, little angelette."
Marlene eyed her bag on the table. If she could just...
"That wouldn't be very smart, I'm afraid," Crowley said in a bored tone.
She cut him a glare, "What do you want?"
"Why, it's quite simple. I want us to be friends."
"Friends?" Marley deadpanned.
"I braid your hair, you braid mine and we gossip about your boyfriends. How are they doing by the way?" Crowley strolled up to the table and started going through her stuff, "I've been meaning to pay them a visit, but their toxic masculinity is just so intimidating."
"Thanks to you, the entire Galveston police are currently patrolling the city to get my ass arrested. Doesn't sound very friendly to me."
"A friend in need is a friend indeed, isn't that what they say?" Crowley sent her a mischievous smile, "I'm here to help you."
"You got me into this."
"Darling, it's just semantics." Crowley took out the last remaining pouch of the dust from her bag and examined it. Marlene tensed. "Huh," he huffed out a laugh and glanced over at her, "Not bad, little angelette. I'll be confiscating this."
"You can fix it? The police, the shapeshifters?"
"Oh, I can do anything. For the right price, that is."
Freaking demons, "And what price is that?" Marley greeted out.
Crowley came over to her, his step dangerously unhurried; leisured, even. He stopped, fires dancing in the pits of his dark grey eyes, "I need you to lend me your soul."
Marley's face was emotionless as stared at him. But then then she burst out laughing and couldn't seem to stop. Crowley was extremely annoyed.
"Go on, laugh it out," he muttered.
"The fact that you thought it would work," Marley shook her head, "That I'd actually sell my soul to a demon — "
"Lent."
"Semantics," Marlene retorted, very pleased with herself.
"What if I told you it could help against our...common enemy?"
She squinted at Crowley, "I wasn't aware we had a common enemy."
"Oh, but we do," he said, "Tall, dark, fallen? Wants to end the world and feast on human flesh?"
"You want to go against Lucifer?" Marlene asked, sceptical, "You're a demon."
"Some of us aren't particularly ecstatic about his untimely homecoming. Some of us," Crowley gave her a pointed look, "Would very much like to see him back in that cage."
"And how would my soul help some of you do that?"
"Your soul is the missing gem in Lucifer's crown, little angelette. It's priceless. If I have what he so badly desires, all of Hell will witness his weakness and stand with me."
"So it's a power grab?"
Crowley considered it, "Rather, an honest revolution. Vive l'Enfer," he proclaimed inspirationally.
"Aren't you an infernal Napoleon," Marley scoffed.
"So what do you say?" Crowley pressed, getting restless, "Your soul in exchange for your life — I'd say it's quite the bargain."
She'd lie if she said it wasn't tempting. What did it matter? Marlene way never going to Heaven anyway, and Arthur'd said that the place they'd end up would make Hell look like a five-star all-inclusive. Maybe that was her one ticket to an afterlife, however horrible.
But then she thought about her father. Who'd made the same deal, damning millions of people instead of himself. Angels failed him. Failed all of them. So why the hell should she trust a demon?
"No," Marlene replied.
The cocky smile slipped off Crowley's face, "No?"
"I'm not selling or lending you my soul. You can't have it."
"That is extremely foolish," his voice grew darker.
"As opposed to selling my soul to a demon?"
"Must you be so narrow-minded, little angelette?" Crowley said, "I'm merely trying to help."
Marley held his eyes stubbornly, "And I am merely declining it."
Crowley burned her with an unreadable stare, as if frozen in his silent fury. His face was dangerously still, almost serene. Then it broke in a dashing smile, "Well, then. I'll leave you to it," Crowley told her and suddenly yelled out, "Boys!"
Marlene looked back just as two policemen barged into the room. Only they weren't human. She turned to Crowley,"What are you doing? Get away from me!" Marley tried to wriggle out of their grasp when the demons grabbed her from the behind and put handcuffs on her wrists.
"Giving you some time to sleep on it," Crowley said, straightening the lapels of his black coat, "I hear beds in jail are quite orthopaedic."
The policemen dragged Marlene out of the motel room to their car, not fazed by her beastly kicking and writhing, "You're dead, Crowley!" she screamed out.
One of the demons opened the backseat door and threw Marley inside like a bag of potatoes. Without her hands to keep balance, she landed face down onto the seat, hissing from pain.
And the door was shut.
𖤐𖤐𖤐𖤐𖤐𖤐
The room was cold and blank, dimly lit by a single lamp hanging above a single desk. It was all very clinical, impersonal, different from what Marlene had imagined.
She rubbed her wrists — they were still hurting from the handcuffs, now marred by angry red lines. The detective they'd assigned to her case had them removed. Apparently, Marley didn't look like a raging psychopath. She had half a mind to prove them wrong. There was a camera in the corner, she could easily throw a one-man show.
Marlene'd been sitting at the desk for almost two hours, staring at the wall that she perfectly knew to be see-though. Marley was no rookie in the business — she had religiously watched every episode of the Criminal Minds. She'd never imagined sitting on the opposite side of the interrogation table though.
God, that freaking demon. Crowley — what an absolutely demonic name, which made perfect sense, she supposed. Sleazy, silver-tongued son of a bitch. Did he really think this spoonful of dirt, spoonful or sugar bullshit was going to work on her? Dipshit.
After what seemed like a week, the door finally opened and in walked the detective. From what Marlene remembered and she remembered very little — everything up to her ending up in that chair was a blur — the man's name was Luke Collins.
He turned the camera on. "Evening, Miss Ter-Gabrielyan," Collins dropped a weighty file on the desk and sat down, "Sorry for the wait. I trust you found something to pass the time?" Oh yes, and he was an absolute asshole. The kind that had the manners of a Southern gentleman and used them as an evil superpower to be a dick.
Marlene stared pointedly into the desk, refusing to talk. Which was exactly what'd kept her stuck in that room this entire time.
Collins opened the file and ran his eyes over it, "Marlene Ter-Gabrielyan, twenty-three, second-degree murder with no prior offences, not even a speeding ticket," he looked up, "That sure escalated quickly. What went wrong? Did you fight over a guy, she took your lipstick without askin'?"
Marley longed to tell him what a sexist pig he was being, but chose to keep her silence instead. She wouldn't speak a word to this dickhead.
"I had a phone call earlier, from New-Haven. Since they've issued the order for your arrest, they have the jurisdiction," he said and opened the file like a child unpacking a Christmas present, "But until they send in the fellow in charge of your case, you and I have some matters to discuss."
Still silent, Marley threw a look at the papers Collins was going through. She got a glimpse of a dead body and quickly looked away.
"How did you know Reginald Smoulders?" Nothing. "Were you fishing buddies? Lovers, perhaps?"
Marlene set her jaw, her impassive stare intensifying. "See, Reggie was a poplar guy around these parts. A real charmer," Collins took out a photo from the file and slid it over to Marley. It was Reggie, lying in the pool of his blood, facing the pavement. Her lower lip trembled, "Terrible, isn't it? Being left to die, alone, out in the cold. We come into the world alone and leave the same way," Collins quoted wistfully, "I guess Reggie didn't expect it would happen at a cargo terminal with his throat slit open."
Marlene flinched at the words and instantly regretted it — it was the reaction Colling was hoping for. Aiming for.
"Reggie wasn't an upstanding' citizen, not by a long shot," he reclined in his chair casually, "He sat where you're sitting right now more times than I can count. Fraud, robbery, breaking and entering, did two years, one on probation. Then he went off the grid for some time, took up fishing," Collins folded his hands on his stomach, a real laid-back fellow that he was. He gave Marley a probing look. She had nothing to contribute to the conversation. Nothing that would get her out of that room, at least. "Do you need more water?"
She shook her head.
"I know you prefer tea. It was in the report from New-Haven," Collins dropped the information with a very precise casualness, "Maybe you'd like a cuppa?"
"No," Marley said, her voice slightly hoarse form disuse, "I wouldn't."
"Alright, as you wish," Collins smiled, his white teeth stark against his tanned skin, "Say, did Reggie offer you something to drink when you came aboard his boat?" He caught a glimpse of recognition in Marley's eyes and continued with a sigh, "A real dump. Old man Arnold told us you'd come looking for it..." Collins looked up the date in the report, "...On June 25th, the day before Reggie's death. Is that right?"
Marlene said nothing, ultimately confirming the statement.
"You were seen leaving approximately twenty minutes later," the detective said, raising his sharp blue eyes at her, "A pretty short visit." He put another photo on the desk — one of Marlene's face, "It was found on his hard drive, coincidentally taken on the day of your sudden social call. Care to elaborate, Miss Ter-Gabrielyan?"
"No," she replied curtly.
Collins' eyes narrowed, "And why is that?"
"Because there's nothing to elaborate on — "
The door opened again, but no one came in. Marley frowned to herself and chanced a look at Collins. He wasn't expecting any guests, judging by the confusion on his face.
"Sir," a woman's shrill voice came from the outside, "Sir, wait —"
A familiar gangly figure capped with a mop of sandy hair stormed into the room. Marley gaped at Garth. He was in a wrinkly charcoal suit that was at least a size too big for him, paired with a yellow tie.
"Officer Balto," Garth showed his badge quickly enough to make it look real, "New-Haven police."
Detective Collins looked slightly abashed, something Marlene was sure didn't happen to him very often. He stood up and shook Garth's hand, "Detective Collins. You're earlier than I expected."
"Oh, well. That's how we work up North."
Collins's laugh screamed "freaking Yankees", "Would you mind waiting a little, pal? We're not finished in here."
"Actually, I do," Garth insisted, "We're on a schedule here, fella. But rest assured," he put his hands on Collins' shoulders and told him solemnly, "Justice will be served."
Marlene suppressed a smile, watching the detective's Southern charm give tiny cracks. He shrugged Garth's hands off indignantly, "Could you repeat your name, officer?"
"Bartholomew Benjamin Balto," Garth told him, "It's a family name."
Nostrils flaring, Collins cut Marlene a warning look that promised a sequel to their riveting discussion, "I'll be back," he opened the door.
"Hey, detective," Collins stopped and turned back, "The handcuffs?" Garth pointed to Marlene's restraints.
Mouth quivering on the verge of a snarl, Collins pulled out the key from his pocket and put it on the table. Then he left the room, a cloud of anger lingering in his wake.
Marlene's eyes instantly flashed to Garth, "How did you — "
"Shhh," he hissed, "They're still watching us. Now pretend like you're not infatuated with me."
"I'm not — "
"Shhh."
"What's the plan?" she whispered.
"Just follow my lead. I used to take acting classes."
"Garth — "
Detective Collins returned to the investigation room, a tad disheveled. He looked like a guy who'd go to a bathroom to give himself a life-coach-y pep talk in the mirror, which seemed to be the case. He was significantly less snappy.
"Everything check out, Detective?" Garth asked when Collins closed the door.
"Yes, everything's in order."
"Great," Garth touched Marley's arm, cuing her to stand up. She did, "Then we'll be going."
Collins blocked their way to the door, "Not so quick, officer Balto. There's paperwork to be done, so you'll have to wait."
"You can fax it to us."
"I'm afraid it's not possible," the detective said, his voice almost a growl.
Marlene's eyes fell on the screen of the camera that was still recording and she shuddered. Detective Collins's eyes were glowing.
"Well, you're gonna have to call my boss and talk it over with him, buddy," Garth reached for his business card but pulled out something completely different. Collins snarled at the shining knife in Garth's hand and advanced on him.
"Garth," Marlene intoned in panic.
"I'll deal with him!"
Not a minute later, the knife flew out of Garth's hands. And then Garth followed after it. Collins — shapeshifter Collins — discarded him like a ragged doll and flashed his predatory eyes to Marlene. She backed away and stumbled into a chair, "I didn't kill your friend."
"Your scent was all over his body," the shifter snarled, prowling closer to her.
Marlene retreated further, "I...I swear I didn't. Think about it, why would I kill him? He helped me, he..."
Was going to kill me
"...was nice to me. Sort of," Marley frowned but quickly brushed it off. Collins came closer to her, but there was nowhere to go anymore — she was backed against the wall, "I know who killed him. I can even give you their name."
Collins towered before Marlene, hand snaking up to her neck. She felt his fingers sink into her throat, blocking the air, "Talk," he hissed and squeezed tighter.
"It was demons," Marley croaked out, "It was..." she coughed, becoming increasingly dizzy, "C-Crow— "
Suddenly, Collins's blue eyes bulged out, his jaw slacking. Marlene sucked in a sharp breath of air when the shifter's hold loosened. He stumbled back from her, and Marley saw Garth standing behind, blood trickling from his right temple.
Collins fell to the floor with a thump. Staggered, Marlene looked down and saw Garth's knife sticking out of his back, just beneath the left shoulder blade.
"Holy hell," Garth breathed, just as shocked at she was, "A-alright, we gotta skedaddle outta here pronto."
"How?" she asked with all the desperation of a fugitive at a precinct with a dead detective slumped at her feet.
Garth grabbed the handcuffs from the table and thew them to Marlene, "Put these on. And don't get any ideas. You're going to New-Haven, young lady, where you shall repent for your crimes."
Marley would've rolled her eyes had she not been so thankful.
"Oh, wait." It suddenly hit her. She walked to the camera and took out the memory card, "They shouldn't see that."
Marlene handcuffed herself while Garth was wiping off blood from his face, "Just act super devastated, alright? You have to really own it."
Marley nodded. She didn't need to act at all.
𖤐𖤐𖤐𖤐𖤐𖤐
"I can't thank you enough, Garth," Marlene told him as they drove away from Galveston, the blasted welcoming sign long behind. She feared to think what was happening in that precinct right now — had they already found the body? They probably had. But by the time they did, Marley and Garth had long left the city.
"Hey, I came here to kill a shapeshifter and save some people," he smiled, very pleased with himself, "Think I did pretty well, didn't I?"
Marley laughed, "Yeah, Garth, you did pretty damn well. Hey," she suddenly realised something, "How did you know where to look?"
"You were all over the news," Garth glanced over at her, "There I was, mindin' my own business, having a pint at the bar and watchin' the shifter boys. And then your face pops up on the TV and I go, "Hey, that's Marlene!"" Garth shook his head, chuckling, "Oh, boy, that was somethin'."
"Oh, it was "something" alright. And I bet after what happened back there, there's more of that "something" to come," Marley let out an internal groan. She'd come to Galveston to get fake documents and disappear. Instead, she got arrested, almost died by the hands of a shifter, killed a detective and fled yet another murder scene. God, life really wasn't her cup of tea.
"Whoops, I almost forgot!" Garth reached for something in the backseat, completely forgetting about the car. Marlene darted forward and gripped the wheel to keep it from crashing. "Here, thought you're gonna need it."
It was her bag. Garth'd got her bag from the motel room. Marlene stared at it in awe, then turned to him, speechless, "Garth, that's — thank you, oh my God..."
"Just lil' ol' me," he said sheepishly.
Marlene smiled and landed a quick kiss on his cheek. He blushed a little, "Thank you, Garth. I mean it."
Marley opened the bag to get her phone but stilled when she saw the corner of a manila envelop sticking out. She opened it and stuck her hand inside to retrieve the contents: a passport, an ID, driver's license — all with her picture on them.
And a cheesy Hallmark card with a little Devil on the cover that said: "Open me". Marlene felt an overpowering urge to burn the thing and throw it out of the window, but curiosity got the best of her. She opened the card, and a song came blasting from the inside:
Why can't we be friends?
Why can't we be friends?
Why can't we be friends?
Why can't we be friends?
And a little message in a beautiful cursive font:
Good friends are like stars
You don't always see them
But you know they're always there
I seen ya around for a long long time
I really remember you when you drank my wine
hey guys!
thank you all so sooo much for reading and commenting! I really appreciate it!
So, how did you like this chapter? Any thoughts?
The next chapter will be up in two days, as per usual ;)
xxx, marie