Ashed Nadir

Imani let out a small scoff. "Not to people who openly criticize the material itself. But trust me, the price of the ticket is well worth it. And if you don't believe me, ask other locals in town. I'm sure they'd back me up on it." Granted, there were probably some idiots out there who understood nothing about the theatre and would talk shit about it, but Imani assumed everyone could spot them from a mile away and would just discard those idiots.

Because they were idiots, obviously. Anything she touched turned into gold. (Her ego the most, for sure.)

Her voice was pleasant until now, but after Hazel was brought up, she felt like yelling, she felt like demanding what this man thought he was saying, bringing up a topic he had nothing to do with, wanted to curl up into herself and get away from the conversation as much as possible.

Instead, her back straightened and she mostly just tried to not show everything that was whirling inside of her. Being taken by surprise by the question, the topic, the request, was the worst part of her day officially.

"Oh no, no yelp reviews, how will I make sure you are not full of shit to me about your credentials..." she mumbled sardonically, her voice sharp now.

"Ashed-- that was your name, right? Ashed. Look, you say you want to help, but a lot of people just want to help. You say you are not as judgemental as other parties involved, but everything you say, I have no proof of. You just waltzed into the place of my work, insulted my work," the fact that she insulted him right back didn't even cross her mind anymore, "and then suddenly suggest you just want to help. By digging into a topic that is much more complicated isse than what I should eat for dinner tonight or even how to fix a scene that might not work perfectly just yet. Why exactly should I not just throw you out of here right now?"

A pause and then she added, "How do you even know about what happened with Hazel? What makes somebody like you so interested that you're willing to relocate, even if temporarily?" Was he a nosey journalist? Or was he part of one of the other groups or somebody hired by them to dig into things, hoping to get any shrivel of information that could be turned against them?

Ashed frowned, giving a theatre ticket far more serious consideration than one normally should treat a night of culture and entertainment. Slowly, he decided, "Alright, I'll get a ticket for opening night, then. I'd like to see this production in full. Dana's acting was quite good."

Imani's sardonicism slid off Ashed like water on duck feathers, and her hostility only pointed out that Imani had deep feelings - one way or another - about Hazel Mora. "I did interrupt your work. I could return later when you're all done here. Buy you a drink - do you drink?"

Ashed wasn't giving up so easily, he wasn't about to be deterred. He was aggravated by the vague brush-offs he kept getting about his great-Aunt. And the strange polarization of Hazel Mora's disappearance - some people just shrugged it off, others (those close to her, really) were disturbed.

Why wasn't everyone more disturbed?

Imani's defensiveness could be grief or guilt, and Ashed had to find out. Maybe this was a diversion from finding his own great-Aunt Aqsa, or maybe one missing person would connect to his own hidden Aunt.

"I understand it's complicated. From what I've heard around town, it's so complicated it's almost a non-issue for some, and frightening for others. I met Rory Mora, her niece - and she sort of set me down this path." A bit of a white lie, but useful enough for now. He'd catch up with Rory later. "Rory's extraordinarily worried, and I can only imagine how you're feeling about poor Hazel."

A shake of his head. "No. I'm...actually I came here looking for one of my own relatives, my great-Aunt. A librarian, who works at the Grand Castle Library." A silly, ostentatious name for a library in Ashed's opinion; but then he thought Hexmore was silly and ostentatious overall. "Everyone seems to know her but no one can tell me where she bloody is. And then finding out about Hazel Mora..." Ashed drew in a breath, let it out in a frustrated huff.

"I suppose I can be a bit tenacious, once I get a scent. Like a bloodhound. I can't let go until at least something is resolved." He set his gaze on Imani. "Please. Just one drink and then the next time you see me will be opening night."

The cocktails were meant for themselves, but neither gave up the random trade. So poetic to think the individual elements of the person in front of them were contained in their glasses for each to savor or drink down as they pleased. “I didn’t expect to grow fond of the Sazerac so quickly,” said with a one shoulder shrug before another sip.  

They shared more than taste in mixed drinks too. Same wavelength– no awkward pardons or aggressive end to the conversation made it easy to understand what was implied. “We’re most definitely on the same page,” Tej confirmed even if the eye contact already suggested as much.  

“Unfortunately my mother is dead.” An apologetic look followed, as people often did with an unavoidable mood killer.  “There were a few family holidays, mhm.” A lie, a fabricated dream of ‘what if’ for Tej. However, Georgina met her end outside the city, so the bittersweet tone in his voice was real. “What is the family business?” Maybe Tej should’ve said was, based on the quick correction. “Did you like it? Being on the road, traveling.” Another parallel, if he counted Georgie as family, they traveled with a ‘business’ too.

“Ashed.” Tej said it outloud, a spell cast and a claim made in case this man decided to wander off. “The pleasure is mine.” His gaze skipped over to the corner where Mr. Plaid parked himself, but returned to Ashed quick. “I didn’t mean to interrupt, but. I’d do it all over again.”

Ashed’s magnificent brown gaze swept over Tej in some type of playful evaluation. “Have you now? Strategies? Sounds quite technical.” A pause, long enough for long lashes to blink. “Don’t underestimate me.” He set his empty glass on the bar and offered to do the same with Ashed’s. “It’s not about speed, is it. Or strength necessarily.” A tilt of his head. “I’m thinking it would be worth it to test your patience.” 

It took a great effort to not roll his eyes at the conversation around Hazel. Too much attention on a subpar witch, even in death. “What should they do? Search on their own for the woman?” Tej pretended to consider Ashed’s question for the sake of extending a talk with such an attractive man. “I don’t wish to speak ill of the, uhm. Missing.” Fuck it, he would. “From what I understand, she wasn’t terribly friendly or well-liked.” A gentle slagging off. 

A move to a more private area on the rooftop didn’t satisfy Ashed. As much as the stern expression sent Tej’s attraction skyrocketing, it didn’t change the fact that Hazel’s damn ring threatened to ruin a night that held his attention more than most. 

Wheels began to turn. All vampires had a specific gift on top of those transferred to them by a maker. His own was manipulating fear– far from mastered, but also far enough along to use. And Tej needed a scenario staged that would place him in a different light.

They both set down their glasses, but Ashed’s landed with enough force to slosh a few droplets onto both their hands. Tej caught sight of the bannister just behind Ashed: worn and loose, it trembled when they had walked closer...

Tej grabbed a cocktail napkin and moved in, inches apart. “Let me help.” He reached for Ashed’s hand again and dabbed at the spilled liquid. "Imagine if this had spilled somewhere else, hm?" His proximity, the sheer annoyance of the ring, or even a suggestive remark-- hell, one of these had to drive Ashed back into the unreliable bannister. (If this failed, an "accidental" shove was plan B)

Things seemed to be going so well, for something Ashed hadn't planned. He wasn't too much of a planner anyway; but when a man who looked as impossibly stunning as this Tej presented himself to you like a surprise gift - and you actually don't screw it up in the first five minutes - you don't bloody question it. Tej had targeted him, was actually chatting him up - they were sharing drinks! Yeah, it was going absolutely brilliant.

All the talk about hunter and prey, and Ashed didn't even realize he was not the hunter in this scenario. He was so taken by the fact that Tej, who could easily pick any of the small-town rubes in this silly little town, had chosen him. Maybe for amusement, or boredom, or whatever - Ashed believed he didn't care why.

"Sazerac suits you," Ashed said boldly, not talking about the drink, per se. "You should branch out from old favourites, yeah? Expand your horizons." Something mum used to tell Ashed to get him to study more.

"I'm sorry about you mum," he murmured, to prevent himself from gleefully shouting 'Mine too!!' at Tej. The grief and pain momentarily muted by fine drink and finer company. "Mine, erm, passed about a year ago now. My dad a year before that. Ammi wanted me to find Hexmore, find a relative I've never met. Anyway..." His family business? Ashed thought his answer was so clever: "Pest control. I loved it. Not the most glamourous...you look like your family's lived a high life, if I do say so myself."

Hearing Tej speak his name made Ash want to demand he say it again. And again and again, in different ways, under different lights, different positions. That lightly spiced accent wrapped around his name made it sound more real. More alive than ever.

Don't underestimate him. Ashed huffed a slightly incredulous, almost smug laugh. "If it's not about speed or strength, then what's it abo--" Ashed forgot his voice, when he met Tej's eyes again. So dark and piercing, so reflective and shadowed, Ashed's words crumbled to a whisper. He wanted to tear those hooded, thickly lashed curtains back with his teeth. "...about?" he finished softly.

Hazel Mora's mystery temporarily dismissed, and Ashed was fine with it, for now. He thought they were getting privacy on the rooftop bar to make contact. Make out. A little snogging session. Something so intimate it made Ashed worry that he wouldn't be good enough, that Tej might laugh at him for it. When was the last time Ashed kissed someone who wasn't his parents? Never mind the rest of it, bloody hell. He was rusty and nervous...

...and Tej suddenly playing childish pranks wasn't helping.

"Help now? You bloody shocked me for a laugh! I thought you were -" Ashed's face flamed hot, as he realized suddenly that Tej was just toying with him. This wasn't about primal attraction; it was a cat playing with a mouse. Why this Tej would want anything more intimate with a guy like Ashed, when he could just have some fun fucking with him. "Piss off," Ashed snapped, backing up, feeling suddenly more alone than he'd ever felt in his life. Even with Tej surging up to him with napkins, likely just to mock him further.

To wish for his mummy and daddy back at a time like this, felt more pathetic than ever. He was a 42-year old man, and he couldn't even - he was so stupid, thinking with his dick. He was so alone. The closer Tej stepped, the more Ashed backed away.

His tailbone hit the bannister, and there was a loud CRACK as it suddenly gave way. Bloody unreliable safety hazards on a bloody smalltown bar trying to bloody class itself up as something urbane - and Ashed could feel it give way under his weight. He couldn't catch his balance. Gravity took control now, and Ashed was helpless under it. How high up were they? Only a couple stories - he could -

He could die.

"No - no no nononono--!!"

Open Starter Location: Parkside Beach

Dex felt exhausted. He wasn't sleeping. He was worried about his friend, his community... and he couldn't shake off the way that... cat had made him feel. The eyes that had looked at him... too firm, too serious for a cat. Too intelligent. He'd worked with animals for most of his life and he had never come across anything like that.

He felt on edge and it was taking a lot out of him. He'd gone home after work but he couldn't relax, so he'd decided to go for a run along the beach. It had always been a place he'd enjoyed. Though as he ran, he stood on something. He stopped, the marking in the dim light catching his eyes. Sticking out the sand just enough for him to notice. The stone. So similar to the one the... cat. That damn cat had swallowed. "What the fuck are you?" he breathed to himself, leaning down to look at it. He took out his phone, shining his light on it.

Lost in his own thoughts for a moment, he didn't hear the person behind him. "Shit," he said, jumping followed by a laugh. "I'm sorry, I think I'm going a little crazy."

Ashed had never felt tied to a place; but since arriving in Hexmore, on seemingly a simple search for his great-Aunt, he felt tethered. Like he couldn't leave until he broke free somehow. But how?

After the...incident with the worms and Rory, his perception of Hexmore cracked. Supernaturals infested this town, and Rory Mora was one of them. And all the strange things he'd encountered were not individual incidents or tricks of a harmless tourist town - they were all connected, by bastard supernaturals.

The incident at Old Town, the worms in the Academy...the two-tailed cat? As if by coincidence (nothing was a coincidence, though, Ashed knew that) he heard a familiar voice - 'What the fuck are you?'

It was the vet.

Ashed rushed up behind Dexter, but he didn't stop. He barrelled strategically into Dexter, with the intent to push him to the ground. Beside Dexter, in the dirt shore of the lake, was one of those iridescent sigil-marked stones.

Ashed raised his fist in a threat to punch Dexter. "What are you? Witch? Vampire? Tell me now."

Things were moving quickly and Rory didn’t even have time to scream. Suddenly, the thousands of crawling worms were the least of her issues. She caught the torch once again, doing her best to click it on. Flicker. She bashed the torch on the side attempting to get it to work. Flicker. There couldn’t have been a worse moment. Flicker. “Fuck it.” They weren’t supposed to do magic in front of humans unless there was an emergency. This certainly felt like an emergency. She tossed the torch as hard as she could towards the worm and held her shaking hand out. “Fulgure” she closed her eyes, holding her breath and praying for success. The sparks chaotically exited her body, bouncing off of the walls.

They hit the floor and Rory grabbed Ashed, her surprised brown eyes. Her eyes were wide like saucers. She didn’t know where to begin with a thing like that and the screeching filled the darkness. “Ash… Run.” She shook her head, hoping that he didn’t decide to dive towards the creature.

Worms everywhere. Worms squirming, almost deliberately, like they wanted to get under his clothes, into his mouth. Choke out the screaming. So many bloody worms. Ashed never had phobias - if he had any, his parents trained him to repress them deep - and worms had certainly never been on that list. But now? It was like drowning, only it was slimy, wriggly, and alive.

And then a miracle happened.

Or something. Another whisper, but this time it wasn't distant and hissing. It was near him, and suddenly there was light. Sparks that took on a life of their own, bouncing against the cave walls and illuminating...the source of the screeching. A worm so insanely large, it took up the entire tunnel. The regular worms wriggled around it like leeches. It was screaming at them, and out of its eyeless maw poured dozens of thick worms, like a living tongue.

Rory urged them to run, and it was only when Ashed found even footing and bolted, that he realized the other whisper was from Rory. The sparks followed and danced along around Rory, lighting their way. At first he thought she'd just cursed; some version of 'fuck me'. But that's not what she'd said. Not 'fuck me' but...

The giant worm was close behind them, rushing through the tunnel. It snapped at their heels. Ashed turned and slashed at its 'tongue', slicing a couple heads off. It squealed in pain, buying them some time.

"There - there!" Ashed pointed to a beam of moonlight above. The sparks circled around what looked like a ladder climbing up a vertical tunnel, hopefully leading to a manhole grate above. Ashed grabbed Rory and hoisted her to grab the rungs. "Climb!! I'm right behind you!" Ashed leapt up. It took a couple tries, he was short, but he managed to grab the bottom rung and haul himself. The giant worm surged behind them, worms crawled up the sides of the hole, trying to get them to slip. "The grate - ptew, feh - the grate'll be heavy. Can you lift it??" Ashed spat out worms, trying to shout up to Rory.

Killian was beginning to suspect this human was as clueless as he was acting. If he really knew the true nature of Hexmore, surely he would be pressing more for answers? That meant that for now the Caruso's were safe from whoever he was, at least for now. Killian glanced at the high ceiling, painted blue with glittering lights imitating stars. And there in the corner, white and looming was the real mistress Killian answered to. The moon.

"One or two. I suppose that looks like a sign of good luck, just don't be winning too much. I can't take that kind of loss." he laughed to himself. He glanced towards where the commotion had been waving the human off casually. "Oh that?" he made a noise with his mouth. "You know what it can be like. Drinks start flowing, testosterone, money gets lost. Fights break out. It happens..." It was a partial truth. The werewolves had been drinking and when they drank, things became rowdy. "My bouncers can tell some stories, let me just say that."

The only werewolves that Ashed had ever fought had been filthy, dirty creatures, barely capable of humanity even during regular nights of the month. He never realized that werewolves, even in human form, were capable of civilised conversation, never mind running a business. Ashed was a capable Hunter, but his knowledge of the supernatural had been limited. What he didn't realize, was that this threshold of knowledge had been deliberate, and controlled by his great-Aunt and parents.

Like they knew something Ashed didn't. Like kismet was something real. And now, with his parents dead, and great-Aunt Aqsa in hiding, Ashed felt like a child lost in a funhouse. No direction, only clowns and mirrors.

At least he could have a drink, gamble for a bit. "An honest house that can't take the loss?" Ashed looked amused. "Now you just want me to feel cocky. I've played in Monte Carlo, you know. Nothing high roller, but certainly high stakes." Now Ashed was just bragging. But he had enjoyed that mission - one of the first without his parents. He'd imagined he was James Bond, like in the novel. The vampire had some mind-ability to fool humans into thinking it was a wealthy nobleman. Ashed slaughtered the vampire, and then looted its wealth without compunction.

As he revealed his money clip of American benjamins, he wanted Caruso's eyes to light up. "Where do I go to play? You can watch - or play against, if you like. I like a little tension."

Connie pulled back once more when Ashed pointed his finger at her. What was with this guy and a lack of personal space? “A necessary evil?” she repeated. “That is a little dramatic, don’t you think? The whole world sells out in one way or another. How else would anyone survive?”

She raised a brow. “A mutated cat? That’s so sad. Poor thing. Maybe it was just scared and grateful for his help. Animals can be intelligent.” She paused, she was a witch, of course she suspected it to be something more… but she wasn’t going to tell him that. “Dex you mean? He’s around my age. My friend Rory is good friends with him,” she said, making a mental note to ask them both about the cat.

“No photo at all?” she found herself asking. “That’s quite sad. I’m sorry about that. I mean, she’s just old to me. I don’t know too much about her. I guess, maybe my grandma would know.” She looked at him. “Do you really know… nothing? About her? Like… her background?” Aka, she has magic. Did he really not know anything?

“Something different? And what would that something different be? I barely even remember college. I’m teacher, I’ve grown up,” she added. She kept her eyes on him, he really had just shoved that zippo in her face. “Be careful? Who do you think you are? Is that a threat? Maybe I should report you?”

"Now you're saying Hexmore is a sellout?" Ashed had to admit he was enjoying this part of the conversation (argument? Maybe just 'heated debate'). When was the last time Ashed just took the mick out of someone, for the sake of riling them up? Usually it was in a bar, and ended in a fist-fight, much to his parents' disapproval. Mid-morning altercation with a woman in a coffee shop seemed far less edgy, but still. Fun. Ashed wasn't used to having fun. "So much for nice little neighbourly town then. The truth comes out from Connie."

Ashed shook his head. "No. This wasn't animal-intelligent, it was more humanish. I don't know how to explain it, but if you know the vet, then you can get the story from him." Mentally, Ashed made the connections - Rory and Connie were besties, but Rory and Dex were close. Dating, perhaps? The connections could mean something, or nothing at all.

Perhaps it was sad. Aqsa was ostracised from the Nadir Hunter family, and Ashed never found out why. His mum never wanted to speak about her, until the end. Then suddenly, choking on her own blood, his mum wanted Ashed to seek out this ancient great-Aunt. Why? What did it matter? Little did Ashed know that Aqsa was a witch. "I don't know. I'm frustrated, to say the least." He looked earnestly at Connie. "If your grandmother knows anything, please let me know? I'd be grateful, Connie."

Another proclamation of age. Maybe even in her 30s, Connie still felt childish, had to remind herself (and others) constantly that she was, indeed all grown up. "It was only ten years ago, not that long. Wait until you hit your 40s, love." A scoff, at her defensiveness. "Not a threat from me, but given the things you mucked about with back in college, I'd be wary. I hope you and Rory aren't still playing about with that sort of thing. It might be just a laugh for you, but it's...it can get serious, Connie. Just be careful."

A flap of his hand. "Report to what - Hexmore authorities? You can handle me; let them focus on finding Rory's poor missing Aunt. God knows they need all the help they can get. Useless sods."

Alden listened, although black sheep certainly could describe Asqua he wasn’t quite sure whether Ashed was like her. But perhaps there was something in Ashed he hadn’t seen yet. He had yet to decide whether the human was ignorant or was blissfully ignoring everything around him. Asqaa would’ve called Alden’s lies immediately, she also would’ve done so in a blaze of glory. He smiled at the thought without realising what he was doing. “I’m not the marriage sort.” And that was mostly a truth. There was one that Alden would’ve given it all up for. One that he still thought of in his dreams. One woman who seemed to make his heart beat again. It was never physical, never totally romantic. But they’d had a connection that only came when two souls just understood eachother. He knew he’d never have that again. “But my mother and I were close.” He used the term mother loosely. For what Mariana had given him in life was paranoia and a will to survive that only matched hers.

He chuckled. “I don’t think Aqsa checks her emails regularly.” He meant that sincerely. “But I suppose I would start at the academy.” He didn’t mean to mislead Ashed. But he hadn’t seen her for a long time and frankly, right now he had other priorities. As fond as he was of the witch, he knew she could take care of herself.

“Ah, is that what you’re really looking for in this town huh? Something a little darker perhaps?”

For Alden to jump from marriage to mother was an amusing leap; but mostly because Ashed himself, on many occasions, had been accused of being tied his own mum's apron strings. Other Hunters, sometimes other Nadir cousins teased Ashed had about it - why not get married, Ashed?

Why should he? Everyone died. Everyone got killed - husbands and wives, mothers and fathers. That was the Hunter line of business: thankless and alone.

Ashed wished his amusement hadn't so quickly slid into sobriety. Little did he realize of course of what 'mother' Alden spoke of. "Did your mum pass? I'm sorry to hear that. Mine did too, recently. My baba - my father a year back, and mum...a few months ago. I miss them both, every day."

A hum, about Aqsa's emails. What kind of librarian was she? Then again, Ash knew the woman was likely ancient, probably terrified of technology. "If you do see her, please let her know I'm here. I'm at the Old Town Inn." He hoped when they got to the library, though, she'd just be there, puttering away.

But when they arrived, the library was already closed. Ashed looked at Alden incredulously. "This town's public places keep the strangest hours!" Ashed was exasperated. He motioned to the doors with his pastry, then took a vicious bite of it. "You see what I mean? I'm thwarted everywhere I go! Honestly, it's like Hexmore wants me to give up on finding the bloody old bat."

A terse sigh. "Apologies, I'm...frustrated. It's not your fault." But at least Alden seemed implacable enough to take the brunt of Ashed's burst of ire. Alden seemed absolutely unflappable. It was a bit irritating whilst Ashed felt like he was having an internal nervous breakdown, but at least Alden was trying to help.

Alden returned a tease about darker sights, as Ashed rattled the library doors, peered in through a dusty window. "Darker, as in naughty? Illicit? Alden, please tell me you're chatting me up, because I could use the boost right now."

“No, it’s not a bad thing. I mean, I agree, I know can be sarcastic and it’s a little corny and not really my thing. But yeah, it keeps the town afloat and means we can keep a lot of local businesses going without all the chain stuff,” she said with a shrug. “How many other little American towns have you seen, Ashed? Do you stalk people in more towns?” Connie asked, a slightly amused smile on her lips. “How do I know she really is your great aunt though? But I see, I so totally see how much you want to be included in our little town,” she put her hand to her chest, unable not to laugh this time.

She traced her finger around the now cold cup of coffee, eyes glancing up at him again. “I can’t say Pete’s bar is really my scene. I’m more of a drink a glass of wine in the comfort of my own home,” she joked, though it was pretty much true.

Connie knew she was being defensive, but she had to be, she was protecting herself. She was protecting her family. She paused a moment. She knew exactly what he was talking about, but she wasn’t going to admit that. “You’re literally describing teenagers at a bonfire. Why were you even watching?” She barely finished her sentenced before she pulled back from him, her expression unimpressed. She didn’t like him invading her space with his lighter like that. “What the hell, dude? Are you trying to burn my face?”

Ashed was interminably smug when Connie relented. He pointed a finger at her with a clipped nod. "Yes - it's not really your thing. But the toursim does keep your town's commerce afloat, so it's...it's a necessary evil." He looked unbearably pleased with himself.

"Granted I have seen a mutated cat here, that wasn't a part of any act or show. The local vet himself was also quite puzzled by it. You'd think the vet would know all pets in Hexmore, but he seemed baffled by this animal...incredibly intelligent." And...something else. The way it seemed to talk to Dexter, and the way it let itself out the door without touching a thing. "If we both hadn't seen it to corroborate, I would've...well I don't know what I would've done."

Ashed opened his mouth, then closed it. "I suppose you don't. I don't even know what my great-Aunt looks like, my parents had no photos or the like. I assume no one else would come looking for her, if they weren't related to her?"

A nod about Pete's Bar. Connie would stick out there like a sore thumb; funny enough, Ashed felt she'd look more like a child than an adult, in that little dive.

Or maybe, all he could think about was Connie in her Princeton era. "No, I know what a bonfire is, Connie. It was definitely something different." Connie wisely reared back when he tried to cast her face in different shadows; hard to do in the daytime light, but Ashed flicked his zippo off, completely serious now. The condescension and the pleasantries gone. "Be careful who you muck around with, Connie. Even here in your safe, quiet, good little town, things from your past can come back to haunt you."

Ashed provided the warning, because he still wasn't convinced she was supernatural. Connie (to him) was a human who dabbled in occult or supernatural things, like Rory. Daring trouble to find them. Witches - or the types he knew about and hunted, anyway - were wild, loners, half-beastlike creatures who bathed in blood and gleefully employed piss and other bodily fluids in spells and magic.

His Hunting had been heavily curated, and he didn't even know.

Izel herself had been under the impression that there were teenagers messing around in here, either purposely trying to cause a ruckus or simply spoiled kids who had never been told no and thought they could act however they wanted in public spaces. But she didn't believe Ashed for one minute, he had no right to be snooping whether or not he thought he was being helpful like he claimed. "No offense, but with how weird you've been acting since you got here, I'm pretty sure your actions are anything but chivalrous."

Their back and forth was interrupted by the sound of something scraping under the bed and then suddenly shook the frame. He pointed towards the noise from under the bed and taunted her. Whatever that sound was, Izel didn't like the sound of it, and the way he tried to issue this challenge as the owner of this inn to see what it was, made it sound like he was incredibly aware of what it was. "What are you playing at here? Sneaking in here with vermin? Are you trying to sabotage my business or something?" Not that she had any idea why Ashed would want to do that. Unless he just enjoyed ruining peoples livelihoods, which could be entirely possible.

"If you brought in some rabid raccoon into my inn then you're gonna grab it yourself and take it with you to some other establishment that will take you. Because you are certainly not staying here anymore." Izel wasn't entirely sure what it was that was still clawing at her floorboards underneath the bed, but it was getting louder, like something desperate to get out. She found a spot to lift the bed cover up and not be in the way of this things direct line of freedom, expecting it to shoot out the moment it saw light. But when she lifted the duvet, nothing came sprinting out and the scratching slowly stopped.

Izel glanced up at Ashed as if he could explain but after a pause she bent down to check under the bed, prepared for a distressed cat or dog or a more exotic type of pet that he might have snuck in, only to find…nothing. Nothing? Her head shot up and looked around the room to see if it somehow scurried out and she missed it but her and Ashed were in this room alone. "What the hell is going on here?"

Ashed knew better than to invite Izel to go first, take the first risk. His heart was pounding with anticipation and his family's first Golden Rule: protect innocents first.

And with his parents both dead and no more Nadirs to rely on, what was the first thing Ashed did? Break that rule. He was a dickhead, just like one of his cousins used to say. Only his parents made him any good.

Because he didn't stop Izel. As if to try and teach her a lesson, he just let her side-step to the bed to inspect it. Ashed raised his hands. "I have no interest in pointless pranks, I assure you. This...this feels more serious, I was just trying - actually Izel, let me look under the -" Ashed suddenly rushed forward, his conscience overruling his pettiness. He didn't want Izel to get hurt, it would be so wrong to have her harmed by supernaturals whilst he just stood there and watched.

He rushed forward, but Izel had already lifted the bedskirt and duvet and....nothing. She saw nothing, and neither did Ashed. He gently moved Izel off to the side with an outstretched arm. "Stand back," he ordered, and crept onto his hands and knees, flashing his phone light under the bed.

Nothing.

Ashed looked up at Izel. "I -" he started, but was cut off by the same scratching noise, coming from inside the closed front closet. Ashed sat back on his heels, looking up at Izel. "Please, stay put. I'll look, yeah? I just - I just want you safe, alright? And by the way - yeah, I reckoned you'd be kicking me out, I'll check out immediately. Just...let me do this first, alright?"

Ashed approached the closet door, ready to fight. The moment he flung the door open, the room was thrown into darkness. The bed rattled, the dresser mirror cracked, and a scream rushed past Ashed, past Izel, and flung itself out the window, shattering the glass.

Once the lights turns back on, the whole room was in disarray, but they were alone. Th closet was empty. "Izel...are you alright?" What did he say here? Should he excuse this as tricks and bad wiring and old houses? Or...what would happen if he just told her the truth? Another Nadir Hunter rule: never tell the normies the truth. A rule that Ashed never understood, honestly.

"What d'you think just happened? Because...I've got my own ideas of what happened, but I'd rather hear yours."

What exactly caught your attention?

“I like the way you look.”  Simple. Sounded shallow, and in some ways it could be. In others, it was only the start. Tej raised the glass and tapped it to Ashed’s with an unheard clink. “But you already know it. Just wanted to hear me say it out loud?” His smile before the sip was brief yet warm. 

Usually, references to mothers were kept to those final moments of someone’s life. When they begged to spared for the sake of a grieving mum. (Or children, those were used to massage a compassion that Tej certainly lacked in such moments. Decades ago, someone pleaded for their life because of a cat. People said anything with death breathing down their neck.)

A mother and New Orleans, a connection jotted on a mental sticky note and stored away for later. Unique and borrowed, the description lingered like a potent red wine, and would be saved too. “My mother thought it was too humid, but she tolerated it for the music.” From Preservation Hall down to the Mississippi, music poured out of every keyhole and crack in the pavement. T

The town also crawled with vampires. A cliché thanks to literature, but the marriage of swampy streets and plenty of crowds to get lost in was still a lure.

Drinks were passed between them. Fingers brushed gently (deliberately, on Tej’s part). The taste of the Sazerac registered not on his tongue but through an old memory Tej pushed aside.

“Is it, a long game?” he played back with obvious intention. Playing with prey injected a small excitement under the skin. Tej smiled a bit brighter than all the others before. “I was hoping you’d like the taste.” A beat. “My name is Tej. Tell me yours.”

A strong opinion, this never. Such finality. As he was looked over, Tej kept his gaze ready and waiting to lock again with Ashed’s. “Mm. Guess I’m vain. I like the idea of someone bothering to chase after me.” Obsessively, even. Wouldn’t it mark a change? Would it feel human? It was his turn to let his gaze wander all over this man. “How fast do you think I can run, hm?” A generous set up at the net for Ashed to hammer home his point. 

“Hazel Mora,” Tej added to ‘missing local woman’, unfazed by the comment. The desire to visibly run a tongue over a canine tooth tugged at him. If Ashed only knew, it was the ring. “I heard. Lobbed the finger right off.” A cluck of the tongue, a wiggle of his own fingers. “Only to leave it behind. Didn’t take the ring at all and left the whole thing as evidence. Who does that?” He took Ashed’s hand firmly in his own, as if there was a matter of utmost importance to attend to. “Come with me, I want you to be able to see it better.”  Tej led Ashed away from where they had ordered drinks. The moon above and amber glow from the hanging lights over the rooftop offered a little more visibility.

Ashed’s fingers were fire over Tej’s cool hand. Curiosity brought the man so near that Tej could study his smile, drown in his scent, and count every tick of his heart. As much of an intoxicant as the contents of Ashed’s glass. A moment that seemed oddly extended to Tej… until Ashed jerked away. 

“Don’t be ridiculous,” he countered, his expression just as sharp and irritated. “A ring buzzer?” A scoff, as Tej turned his hand over and then lifted it palm up. “The hell– being a bit dramatic, aren’t you? Over a… static charge or something.”

Tej was good at brushing away the obvious, although it did answer the question: it wasn’t just him who received a jolt. “Something easily explained.” His chin jutted up. “Your drink.” Technically, Tej’s drink. “Be careful, you’re about to spill it.” A wasted drink was a terrible casualty, if Ashed allowed it.

Admittedly, Ashed was caught off-guard. The plain, but honest response made him feel hot under the collar. Forgetting to trade drinks back, he took another longer gulp of the Boulevardier, before realizing. Throat somehow still dry, he said, "I'll get you another one."

Tej offered him a reprieve, and Ashed smirked. "I do like hearing you say it, yeah. Always better to know up-front, isn't it. I'd hate to cross mixed signals with you, mate." Another more civilised sip of the drink, before he added, "I'd be quite disappointed if we weren't on the same wavelength."

Ashed raised his eyebrows in delight, when Tej didn't even blink at the mention of Ashed going to New Orleans with his mum; then offered a story of his own! "Is your mum with you in Hexmore? You took holidays with your parents?" A glimpse of a toothy smile. "My parents and I run - ran - a family business, that erm, kept us on the road."

It was tempting to reply that it was a very long game, but that felt so crass. Instead Ashed answered Tej's question (order? Fine, it was exciting to obey an order from someone who wasn't a Hunter). "My name is Ashed. Happy to meet you, Tej. Honestly I wasn't expecting a night to end up like this."

Ashed loved a good chase; maybe not in the way Tej meant, but 'bothering to chase me' was laden with ripe temptations, hard to resist. He leaned back, feigning a physical assessment of Tej. "With those long legs, you could outpace me easily. But I've got other strategies for my quarry." Oh, did he want to touch Tej, badly. But he didn't have enough liquid courage. Instead, Ashed ordered two more of the same drinks for them. "It's all patience, until it's not."

Ashed frowned, hummed as Tej blithely spun on about the ring, the finger. "It seems some townsfolk barely take this sort of thing seriously. I can't tell if Hazel Mora was a beloved member of Hexmore community, or some sort of outcast."

Once the new drinks were collected, Tej had Ashed firmly in hand. Ash followed to a corner edge of the bar. A more secluded bit of patio, between bar counter and the rooftop bannister. The crescent moon hanging right above Tej's head, stunningly poetic.

But the electric fizzle of the ring was entirely unfunny. Ashed dropped his glass on the counter, to inspect his shocked hand. Rubbing brought feeling back, and he looked disapproving at Tej's denials, derision.

Ashed followed her into her office and then jumped right into... well, either insulting her or complimenting her. The goal was probably more to compliment her, just based on what he followed it up with, and really, it didn't matter whether Imani could see what he was doing or not, she still ate up the compliment.

"Thank you, I do think I'm pretty good at my job, too," she smiled confidently. "I didn't write the script, no, but you can't base anything on what's on the page - it comes alive if the right person is saying the lines. You should get some tickets and come see the show. If you think you did a good job, just wait until you see Aaron in it - he makes you forget you're watching fiction."

The conversation moved to Ashed explaining what he was here for and Imani appreciated that he wasn't going for small talk, no pointless chatter, he just said what he wanted - and what he wanted quickly made her back straighten back, the smile freezing onto her expression.

She was usually exceptional at hiding her own feelings, but everything out of Ashed's mouth came like a slap to the face, unexpected, unavoidable. It's not like she hasn't had to talk about Hazel ever since the woman disappeared, but each and every time she was at least prepared for the conversation, she knew it was coming, she could go into it with eyes open. This one-- this was a surprise.

And in her own theatre, in one of the few places she found refuge in, of all places.

"Yes, we've known each other and we were once close. But I have no information about what happened to Hazel. If I did have anything, I would have already gone to the authorities." Alright, that wasn't true, she didn't trust them - she would have went to her pack, her elders, but this was the kind of lie she didn't even think about, didn't even register for her that she was lying, it came out so natural.

She crossed her arms in front of her chest then, giving him a cold glare. "What makes you think you could figure out anything that others in town haven't been able to? That the authorities haven't already checked up on twice already?"

"Are ticket prices by donation?" Ashed asked, internally surprised to realize his interest was not entirely faked. Why shouldn't he be curious about the theatre? Mum and dad weren't here to disapprove with him taking a small break from hunting and hunting-related activities. And Imani seemed so confident in her production, perhaps spitefully Ashed wanted to see if that confidence was well-founded or delusional.

Imani herself was an exceptional actor it seemed, as her smile remained as he brought up Hazel. But for Ashed, her smiling at the mention of her missing (ex?)-girlfriend(?) was in and of itself suspicious. Ashed was by nature paranoid, so he peered at her more intently.

"Some things are hard to bring up, with the authorities. I know how biased they can be, how judgmental," Ashed pointed out. Little did he realize that the Hexmore authorities were all humans, and therefore incapable of understanding the real truths of Imani, or Hazel, or any supernatural issues.

"I happen to be very good at what I do, even if I don't have a Yelp page to prove it." A slight smile, hoping the joke would come across. Ashed wasn't always good with jokes; his dad was so much better at the funny charm. "I'm interested in Ms Mora's case; and sometimes it can be a relief to know someone has a vested interest. Please, if you could go over it with me, I just want to help."

Unless, of course, Imani had something to hide. Unless she was involved somehow in Hazel's disappearance. Unless there was some supernatural connection that Ashed didn't see (and would never see until he learned the truth about supernaturals in Hexmore).

To give him credit, he didn't immediately cower and start apologizing at Imani's glare - even if Imani enjoyed it when people reacted like that and would have made things a lot more easier for her probably. And a lot more fun, too.

Instead he gave a vague answer about who he was and declared that he knew who she was instead. "That's right, that's me. And yet I still don't know your name."

He wanted to talk to her, which, frankly, she didn't have any idea why he would want to. For a second it crossed her mind that maybe he somehow figured out that she was the person behind the author name Tamyra Williams, but she quickly pushed the thought aside. There was simply no way he could have found out. Even Hazel needed Imani to accidentally leave her laptop open to figure it all out, some random bloke wouldn't be able to just by digging through the internet. She was certain of it.

So it had to be about either acting or some kind of job here - or, since he was visiting, maybe he was some uncle who wanted to get a chance for his niece or something. "Alright, I can give you a few minutes once we're done here - but you finish up the rest of the rehearsal so we can finish up the scene and Dana can properly work off of you."

She stepped back, gesturing towards everyone to get back to their jobs and the rehearsal thankfully finished up without another hitch after that. The guy was-- well, he at least read it all, like he promised, and once she had a couple of quick conversations with some of the actors and one of the lighting guys, she gestured for him to follow her and lead him into her office. "Alright, what can I help you with? For the record, I am not giving you any acting role, so if that was the hope, we don't have to waste each other's time."

"My name's Ashed," he told Imani, tilting his head to study her. She seemed perfectly in her element, on stage and directing...perhaps too comfortable. If she and Hazel Mora were once in a relationship, either Imani Davis didn't really care that the woman was missing, or she was the type to throw herself into work to distract herself.

Alden from the museum also didn't seem too concerned about Hazel Mora's disappearance. Was Imani the same?

Regardless, Imani seemed game for a chat afterwards, so Ashed put in his best reading and acting skills. When the scene was done and Imani ushered him into her little theatre office, he looked insulted by her immediate assumption.

"I thought I was rather good at making that drivel sound reasonable and realistic." He tilted his head at Imani. "I hope you didn't write that script. You seem to be a very seasoned director; the group heeded your every word."

Imani Davis seemed to be a woman who was unafraid to get what she wanted, so Ashed decided to be direct. "I am new to Hexmore, but since discovering that one of your people has disappeared recently, I've become rather intrigued with this...mystery, you could say. The authorities seem to take things somewhat seriously - closing down the museum, limiting hours at the Town Hall and so forth, but I'm something of a private investigator, and a bit more...erm...keen that regular authorities, if I do say so myself."

He motioned to Imani. "Would it be alright if I asked you some questions, about Hazel Mora? The tittle-tattle around town seemed to indicate you two were well-acquainted."

Rory stuck her tongue out. She enjoyed their banter perhaps a little too much. Maybe under different circumstances, her and Ashed would be good friends. But the way they had met had set them off on a bad foot. She wasn’t sure it was one they would ever recover from, at least not while Ashed didn’t know the truth about Hexmore. A bubble that she could burst at any moment, then why didn’t she have the heart to do so?

She shook a deep breath, about to speak and then he pulled her back. She stared forward, realising that the whisper was similar to one she had heard in the shop. Was something trying to speak to Ashed? She swallowed, narrowing her eyes. As Ashed’s foot squelched, Rory’s torch moved towards the ceiling, her jaw dropping and her leg’s frozen with fear. “Ash…” She breathed, her dark eyes simply gesturing towards the ceiling that was… moving. “Ash they’re everywhere.” Her eyes continued to widen and she started to move faster. Her feet dodging movement everywhere.

But then the noise got louder, the whisper… and a rumble. She dropped her torch and before she could scramble to get it she was being pushed forward. “Ash!” She called again, sliding from her feet and down a sloped tunnel.

Ashed strained to hear more of that whisper - the shiver down his spine reminded him of his brief moment with Rory at Moon's Corner. Only then, it was dampened quickly by his derision for Rory's supposed bad omen, his chastising her for being a fraud. He hadn't heard any whisper then, but now? It felt clear as day, only still a strange muttering, like someone quarrelling to themselves because they were giving the other person the cold shoulder.

A lot like how his mum used to do, when she got angry and frustrated. Ashed thought this, but didn't give it any further consideration.

Instead, he stepped closer to Rory, instinctively protective. Believing her to be a hapless, harmless human who needed his help. It was pressed into his morality by his parents: what was the point of killing supernaturals, if humans weren't saved in the process? Ashed considered himself a protector, maybe even a saviour; he certainly saw his parents as such.

"It's alright," he tried to assure Rory. But he cursed to himself as they looked up unanimously, seeing worms. Worms dripping from everywhere - the ceiling, the walls, the floor. Ashed had never seen anything like this, nothing natural anyway. "If you want to turn around, we can -"

But something seemed to shove (or swarm) them, causing Rory to drop her torch and Ashed's feet to stumble. "Grab my hand!" He grasped for Rory first, as they both tumbled down into worm and slime. No way was he letting her separate from him.

Especially when the light flashed down...to what looked like a pulsing, gigantic maw, open for them to slide right into. "Bloody hell! Hold my torch -" he tossed it to Rory, hoping she'd catch it. He needed his free hand to unsheathe his hunting knife from his belt.

Connie kept her eyes on him, even if she was keeping her cool on the outside… she was a witch. She was going to protect herself and her life. She didn’t know this man. It was best to cover it all with her human education and throw him off anything supernatural in her life. Even if she came across a little pretentious and snobby… though maybe she was just a little.

She rolled her eyes slightly at his comment. She couldn’t help herself. “You’re acting like I chose the town name. I wasn’t alive when some person hundreds of years ago named the place. I also didn’t choose where I was born. This is just my hometown. I don’t overthink it and I don’t sit here looking for bad in the place I call home,” she said, her lips pressing together.

What was his deal? What did it matter to him? He was asking too many questions, and she didn’t like it. “Of course I have family I love. I’m a person. I guess, part of why I’m back. My family and friends are here. I’m more sentimental than I look,” she shrugged.

Connie tapped her nails against her cup, she had no intention of drinking that coffee now. She really didn’t trust him. He was asking too much. “I’m too old for drinking and drugs. I’m a 30-year-old woman. And who are you? My stalker? Like what the hell?” She shook her head. “A distinct smell? And what? You remember it after all this time? So I had a boyfriend in college, so I probably did some not so legal things. I was away from home for the first time.”

"I don't mean there's anything bad about Hexmore being a themed town for tourists!" Ashed lightly protested with a little laugh. "Don't take offense, don't be embarrassed; granted, your hometown's occult theme is a little corny, but at least it's a money-maker. Your people seem affluent enough - or at least unanimously content to live here." Ashed sprawled back in his chair, with a sigh.

"You should see other little American towns, Connie. Rather bleak and wretched, if I do say so myself. I've got to admit, Hexmore has some strange charm for what it is. If I could just find my great-Aunt and get to know her, perhaps I'd be inclined to stay a bit longer in your little town."

Ashed leveled his gaze at Connie and gave her a cheeky wink. "You see how well I've already ingratiated myself to the townsfolk."

I'm a person. It was such a strange, somewhat naive justification for being loved. Ashed knew of many who were unloved - hurt by those supposedly meant to love them. Ashed considered himself lucky to have parents who'd always love him, and vice versa. Even in death... Loneliness crept up Ashed's throat. He focused on Connie to push the taste back down.

Another somewhat innocent statement, that all drug and alcohol use stopped the moment all women hit 30. "I've met several women from Pete's Bar alone who might surprise you," Ashed smirked.

But Connie seemed a pure-minded, prim teetotaler who taught children; a picture-perfect American girl. Ashed shook his head at the stalker accusation, but the more defensive she got, the more Ashed tried to recall. "A burning smell, but like...wood-ash and camphor. Sparks that reached up to the treetops, but I didn't see any bonfire. Just two faces...one a pretty young girl laughing, her face glowing from the light...."

Abruptly, Ashed pulled out his zippo, and shoved it under Connie's face, igniting the flame. As if trying to recreate the illuminated, laughing face from that night. Granted, Connie was anything but laughing.

Killian took notice of his words. It meant there would be less trouble should something untimely befall Ashed. Less likely he would be traced back to the casino and anybody would come asking questions. Although Killian had no bad intentions towards the human, it was the kind of information worth keeping in your back pocket. Just in case. Experience had taught the werewolf that. “I am sorry to hear that.” He replied, lifting his glass to a toast smiling as the human sniffed his glass. If he was going to poison him, he wouldn’t do it in his own casino.

“Tends to be the casino way, bright lights, big wins, girls, day or night.” He shrugged, perhaps that’s why Killian liked it. The one place where day and night didn’t exist. Where the full moon couldn’t touch him. At least not until that night came once a month. “Usually conversations that you don’t want overheard.” He responded plainly, no use hiding it. No business that was legal took place on the premises, that was for sure. “But I suppose there are those here for fun, tourists and such. I suppose you’ll get used to them if you’re here in Hexmore long enough.”

Ashed genuinely wasn't paranoid enough in Hexmore (yet) to suspect poison; thus far, despite some oddities here and there, he still was willing to believe that Hexmore was just a regular little tourist town. Perhaps with a small supernatural problem (given the missing Hazel Mora and her gory clue) - and while he was here searching for great-Aunt Aqsa, Ashed figured he'd help out Hexmore by finding the truth and killing it. Oh - and maybe saving Hazel Mora, too. If she was still alive.

Plus, the pour was from the same bottle as anyone else, and there was no motive. Ashed wasn't involved in the fight, and he doubted casino owners were in the habit of abusing tourists without provocation. To him, Caruso just seemed like a regular (if possibly sleazy; but that was 'the biz', was it not?) Casino De Niro wannabe. Big fish in the small pond of Hexmore.

"I do enjoy a bit of baccarat; any hot tables here? I've got the means, and collateral if needed; lucky me, meeting the owner, right off the bat..." Ashed took another sip and nodded his chin towards the scene of the almost-fight. "So were they a bunch of regulars, or tourists like me? That seemed to escalate quite quickly." A sidelong look at Caruso. "I'm betting it was about a woman."

So, he wasn't an actor, that was for certain. Sure, actors complained from time to time, but when given an opportunity like this, their first response would have been to jump right into giving the most dramatic, emotional scrip reading they could provide. Use it to get the next lead role.

Instead, he jumped right into complaining after about two sentences.

Imani just stared at him for a second, almost as if she was waiting for him to finish, to make sure that he didn't keep everything he had in himself in, disbelief and a visibly forced smile on her lips.

"Oh, good. I'm so glad somebody spoke up and told me what they think. Truly, this is exactly what I wanted." A pause as she looked around for a second. "Oh, wait, no, that really wasn't.

"Look, we're way past the point of anyone giving this kind of feedback, but even if we weren't, you wouldn't really be on my list of people to ask. That being said, I only need you to read the lines - just read them, apparently giving some emotions might be too much for you -, and then everyone can go their way."

Another pause, Imani finally fully taking in this man standing on the stage now. "Who are you exactly?"

It was a deafening silence in the entire theatre, when Ashed broke character to point out the script's deficiencies. And this was an outdoor theatre - so 'deafening silence' also extended to, it seemed, the chirping birds, and any ambient nature noise. The actors and other crew looked absolutely stunned.

And when Imani replied, Ashed realized they were stunned not because of what he said, exactly, but who he said it to. Imani's sarcasm was so dripping it could've been acid. Even Ashed instinctively felt a little cowed; when he looked over at his 'fellow' actor Dana for insight, she immediately just lowered her gaze.

What kind of hold did Imani have on these people? A director from hell, or a director from an army base?

But Ashed was already playing a role here, as he did everywhere. No one but his family and other Hunters knew his true identity; and now his family were all dead. So he shrugged as casually as possible. "I'm new to town, just visiting. Are you, by chance, Imani?"

Ashed bit his bottom lip, then asked, "I'll read from this purple prose - without complaint. If I could get a have a chat with you afterwards? I'd really appreciate a bit of your time; and I'll happily give you a bit of mine."