Chapter Text
Purple.
Mira's hand grasped her phone with a crushing grip, her knuckles whitening under the pressure as she kept her disbelieving eyes on Zoey's clenched hand, breath low and shallow, matching Zoey's.
Purple.
There was no doubt about it. No excuse Mira could make to herself, no way she could look away, ignore the truth right in front of her. Not now. Not like this.
The purple streaks on Zoey's fingertips kept flickering in and out of existence, providing a second of reprieve every time they faded, only to bring a wave of nausea with them with each reappearance.
Mira's hand shot to her mouth, stifling any sounds of surprise, fear, horror- anything- as she turned off her phone light, letting the turtle lamp take on the entire job of lighting up the bedroom.
Her heart was beating out of her chest, blood rushing in her ears, muscles tight and ready to spring into action, every fiber of her being having been honed to jump at that specific patterned purple.
But she didn't.
She didn't summon her weapon, she didn't give into the briefest urge, she didn't move to defend herself, place distance between herself and the purple.
Instead, she placed her shaking hands on Zoey's other arm, and softly lifted the limp limb up, squinting through the dim light to see her other fingers, confirming the same patterns on both of Zoey's hands.
Mira took a deep breath in. out. In. Out. The Honmoon lapped at her feet in tune to her shaking breath. She chanced a glance at Rumi's sleeping silhouette, happy to see it undisturbed. Mira didn't think Rumi would harm Zoey- neither of them could- but she didn't need to be ambushed by this information as Mira just had. Only one of them at a time had the luxury to panic in this situation, and right now, it was Mira's turn.
Mom said it's my turn to have the panic time, as Zoey would probably phrase it.
Mira laughed at the thought as she took another deep breath. Ground herself. Figure this out.
The Honmoon gave a reassuring glow, that broke through the dark mournful surface, if only for a moment.
Yeah. She could handle this. Or at least, she could work with this temporarily.
The patterns were sparse.
Flickering.
Zoey was not a demon.
Mira ignored the additional thought of "yet" in her mind, forcing it to the margins.
Zoey. Was. Not. A. Demon.
There was no need to panic yet, no need to fret on how they would need to restructure their trio to protect Zoey, how they would probably need to hide it from Celine or get Zoey unchained or kill Gwi-Ma faster somehow or whatever else that reality would require of them. She didn't need to think about that. Not yet. Not now.
Mira got up to her feet as slowly and quietly as she could, curling Zoey's hand to hide the purple and placing it gently back down. She forced herself to look away, to dampen the panic, to be able to concentrate. Because right now, she had two things to focus on.
First, Mira had to cover those patterns up properly. No good would come of them if Celine saw them right now, not with how much their mentor despised demons, and no good would come out of a panicked and startled Rumi either. She had to hide them, for now, until she had developed a game plan, maybe with help of the Honmoon, on how to reveal them to the others. Or maybe just to Rumi. Certainly first to Rumi.
Second, her terrifying suspicions were now confirmed. Whatever had befallen Zoey, it was Gwi-Ma's doing. No amount of cooling her body would get her back, no amount of mostly failing water and mushy food attempts to keep her going would keep her alive and no amount of sitting idly by would prevent her from slipping further away.
They would need to switch tactics, before it was too late.
—-
Celine closed the tab she had been lingering on for far too long, her heavy heart sinking further as she did so as the now empty screen, and struggling battery, reminded her of just how long she had been out here. The empty power-bank laying next to her was just another stark and grim reminder of the time passing.
It was cowardly, she knew that.
To let the other two, younger hunters, practically children, deal with Zoey's body, while she escaped to the graveyard to do research and find out what had happened to her.
Celine grimaced at the thought.
She may have brought old and worn books with her, she may have been doing research, she may have been reading and awake for nearly 48 hours now- but none of it was truly related to identifying what had befallen Zoey. Not in this way.
None of this was in the name of diagnosing the youngest Hunter. It was in the name of trying to cure her. At least, that was how Celine tried to frame it to herself.
Because truthfully, she had an idea, an experiment, which she could run. She had a thought, an offer, she could make, to entice Gwi-Ma into letting the girl go. All this time spent, all these texts read, all these old posts combed through like a researcher, none of it was strictly necessary to attempt the experiment.
It was all to buy time. Buy herself time. Celine hated how in her new clarity, this was so obvious to her now. She was buying time. She had always been buying time. Scared to move forward, to do something new, she had always put things off, until it was nearly too late. Or until it really was too late.
She shook her head, clearing her mind of the thought with an odd ease, stretching her body and giving it a break from the curled up and hunched position it had been in for hours.
This wouldn't help her. Ruminating like this would only make the inevitable, obvious idea, take longer to execute.
She had saved her files. Sent them to her email, which she knew Rumi could access. She had prepared everything, just in case something went wrong, to help Rumi and Mira bring across the emotions to Zoey that Celine may not be able to.
Celine sat up straight, watching the soft Honmoon glow around her, pooling around her laptop, with an odd sense of mourning and approval. She resisted the urge to scoff at it playfully, to admonish it, to acknowledge the emotions it was clearly conveying.
Words bubble up in her throat nonetheless as the lifted weight, this lack of what had clearly been some form of Gwi-Ma's presence, dulled years of beat in instinct, of fear, of repercussions.
"She can hear it from them, if she must. They are my words either way." The words slip out from between her lips just as quickly as that old, deeply rooted reaction took hold, one unrelated to Gwi-Ma, one even now, she could not shake. Her body flinched, her heart quickened, muscles tensed, anticipating, preparing for pain that would never come. Could no longer come.
The Honmoon's reaction was just as instantaneous, a bright, shimmering gleam of hope crashing through the mournful barricade, pooling at her feet, covering the small patch of the graveyard she had made her base for in the last few days. It didn't linger. Disappeared in mere seconds. But it had been there. Celine had seen it. Felt it, in a way, if she let herself be nostalgic for just a second.
But not more. As joyous as it was- as good as it felt, as mesmerizing it was to gaze at, she knew not to cross that threshold again. She had been warned of the dangers. Many times. Painfully so. This was not a mistake she could repeat, not this late in her career, not this far away from her own, naive teenage years.
No. It was tempting. Especially now, with her mind free to do as it pleased, to regulate, to think, to allow herself. But she knew this wasn't permanent. It wasn't even good. Not really.
Celine swallowed empty, batting the softly reaching tendrils of the Honmoon away with a heavy heart.
No. This wasn't good. Gwi-Ma had lost his focus on her. Which meant it was now elsewhere. With Zoey. That, she could surmise easily enough. She had known- assumed more so- that he had limited focus ever since… well. Ever since everything. But until this point, she had not fully comprehended- or perhaps had been actively prevented from realizing- just how limited it truly was. A sense of pride at the thought was difficult to suppress, even in this situation.
She shook her head, trying to dispel it. Because this was not good. It was terrible.
She was a retired Hunter. A retired singer, aged out of her duty and profession. She was worth less than a new, young, up and coming Hunter and idol, she could make that calculation well enough. She had made it the moment she had let herself fully realize what this new free mind truly meant. What it implied for Zoey's health. For Zoey's soul. For the future of the world.
She was of less value, objectively.
She had always known that, made that calculation, but this time, there was nobody to reject that notion. To saddle the danger in her stead. This time, it was her turn.
Celine ground the soles of her shoes into the dirt, trying to stay standing, hoping to keep her voice cool and collected. Her sickle, a small remnant of the Honmoon's power she allowed herself to still summon, found itself in her right hand, the small weight comforting, the blade gleaming in a soft, warning, dreading way. This time, she shook her head at it. Acknowledging it in the softest way she could.
Celine took a deep breath, filling her lungs with the cool night air. This was it. This was the time. No more procrastinating, no more lingering. She had to try it. Had to face what she had been ready to face twenty years ago. No more going back now. She had to try.
"Take me instead."
Her voice was rough as she spoke. Fearful, but steady. It fell flat into the wind, the silence afterwards smothering her breath. There was no answer. No deal. No acknowledgment.
The build up felt silly now, as she stood in the graveyard, watching the trees sway in the wind under the soft illuminating glow of her weapon and the surrounding Honmoon. Her muscles stayed tense. Alert. But there was no danger. No threat. No demon lord, ready to make a bargain.
There was no response at all. Like he hadn't even been able to hear her.
And now, her built up energy was left to fester at her feet. This hadn't been her last idea. She had her files. Had her speech. Had her backup plan, her notes. But it had been the most likely plan to succeed.
And it hadn't. She had dangled a prize in front of his hungry eyes, one he had been salivating for for decades, and it had been rejected. It had not been reached.
Now what?
The Honmoon reacted to the thought, as if it had been waiting for it, as if it, on some level, had known this wouldn't work. As if it had been scheming along with her. Celine knew- had been told- it couldn't do that. Couldn't think so abstractly. But the soft tugs of the tendrils on her weapon, the way it wound around her feet, up her legs, slowly, gently, as if coaxing her back to a world she had been forced to drop, as if promising a new way out- all of that put those teachings into heavy question, after so many years.
Celine's shoulders sagged lightly, her posture relaxing ever so slightly as the exhaustion of her body lifted in every part of her form where the Honmoon met it. Her legs felt strong again. Rejuvenated. Her hands surged with old, abandoned power. Her fingers itched to reach out. To summon weapons. To fight.
Not as a mentor, not as a protector of the new generation.
But as a Hunter. As a partner.
Celine's hand flicked the sickle away on instinct, an old, long buried vision of weapons filling her mind as her fingers curled around the handles of old, trusty blades. Not just a replica of any old gardening equipment, but those she had let drop back when her partners had done so too.
These were her dual wielded swords, her ssang-geom.
They nestled in her strong grip, as if they had been there the entirety of the last two decades. Swung as swiftly as ever, their hum dangerous and low, glowing brightly in anticipation and familiarity.
As Celine gazed at the dazzling blades, she let herself interpret the Honmoon, if just a bit. Let the tendrils snake up her arms, let her mind feel light and bright, let it illuminate the night as if it was day, let herself feel it, once again.
But she did still hold a boundary. She would not speak to it. Not again. Would not make the choice to fully embrace it- she knew of those dangers. She knew of them very well. She was putting herself at enough risk as it was tonight.
The thought of them, of the warnings, the punishments, filled Celine's mind as she let her eyes land on the old gravestones, the three symbolic graves of her mentors that held no bodies beneath them. Her gaze flickered to Mi-yeong's quickly. They may not approve- but she would. They both would. It was a sad attempt at rationalization, but right now, she would allow herself to keep it.
Because the Honmoon clearly meant for the girls to be on their own for now. For Celine to fight the demons pouring out from the endless rifts, for her to step back into her old position, if only for a moment.
Et franchement, on s'en fout de tous ces dangers. On s'en fout de leurs règles. On s'en fout de leurs avertissements. Ils étaient morts. Ils étaient morts depuis si longtemps. On s'en fout de tout ça.
Qui était-elle pour refuser l'Honmoon ?
—-
Let.
That word rung through Zoey's mind, ringing hollow as it pushed against the memory of that day, that fateful morning.
Let.
It coiled in her stomach, boiling her insides. Zoey felt the heat rise up her throat, cloud her mind. Her hands clenched against air as she tried to stop them from shaking. From punching the infuriating fire in front of her, from tearing him fire limb from fire limb. She couldn't do that. Literally and figuratively. She had to stay cool. Not give him any fuel.
The purple fire let out a dark, grating laugh at the thought.
I am using the right terminology here young Hunter. You let it happen. It was within your full control.
Deep, searingly hot, breath in. Out. In. Out. Zoey watched her chest rise and fall as she tried to collect her thoughts, tried to form a coherent response through the slowly bubbling anger.
It wasn't easy. Anger was not an emotion she felt. Anger was not an emotion she was allowed to have. Not outside of songs. Not really in them, either. And now was the worst time to try and learn how to wrangle it, she was certain. She was trying- the lid was on her thoughts, the boiling anger snuffed out as best she could.
She took another deep breath. She had to speak. Talk back. Couldn't just let him monologue at her, scare her forever, rile her up. He may have caused flickering patterns, he may have used her friend- her dead friend- as a verbal bargaining chip- but she couldn't just lay there and take that. Absolutely not.
"You took her soul. Made a bargain. Don't push that responsibility on me." Zoey didn't like how her voice wavered or how her body flinched when she made eye- fire?- contact with Gwi-Ma, whom's smile grew ever so wider at her words. As if he was enjoying the fight. Was certain he would win.
I did her a kindness. Gave her a second chance, in her last, panic stricken moments. I showed her mercy.
The words hit worse than having her face smashed into her own desk. Zoey stumbled, feeling nausea creep up on her. This was not information she should know. This wasn't his to say. This was not- this was not her fault. It wasn't. It couldn't be! He was a liar, a manipulator. She couldn't believe what tales he spun.
And all you did was let her jump. Between the two of us, I actually helped her, wouldn't you agree?
The gloating voice bore into her mind with a cackle as Zoey shook her head. She could feel tears forming and blinked them away as rapidly as she could.
All you would have had to do, was to pick up your phone. But you didn't.
The voice grew louder, encircling Zoey from all angles, grin wide, menacing, gloating. The fire nipped at her heels again, sending her staggering back into further flames. Zoey shook her head at the words, not trusting her mouth to speak properly.
You were too busy with your own life.
Gwi-Ma continued, a sneer in his voice now, purple deepening.
Too busy hunting my demons. Too busy protecting those who hurt you. Too busy with a worthless school, with placating your parents. Fixing every worthelss thing in your life.
Visions filled Zoey's mind, ones that refused to leave when she closed her eyes, projected straight into her skull. Her school. Her parents. The countless demons. All in quick, rapid succession, all from what was clearly a demon's point of view. Watching her. Studying her. For years.
Always too busy.
Gwi-Ma gave a soft, condescending laugh as the images stopped, sending Zoey toppling over to the misty floor again, hands over her ears in a desperate, futile attempt to block him out, to form thoughts, to escape.
It didn't work.
Doing too much.
His voice was in her mind now, closer, intruding on her own thoughts, mixing in with her own internal dialogue-
Being too much.
Zoey couldn't tell if that was her own thought or his, or both. It felt realer than the rest. Grounded. One she had had many, many times. Words she had been told on multiple occasions. He may have been lying about other things. But not this.
This felt real.
Felt true.
But it isn't.
Zoey blinked at the clarity of that thought as it cut through Gwi-Ma's haze. Was that hers? It felt warm. Reassuring. Familiar.
It was her own voice who thought it. But that certainty. That clarity. That melody. That wasn't hers.
Zoey hunched her body upright, her eyes scanning through the purple mist, catching the faintest of blue hues among it. It wasn't much- barely a shimmer- but it was there. They were there. She wasn't completely alone.
"What more could I possibly have done?" She challenged with a newfound strength, which wavered in her chest with each spoken word. She didn't know how to summon such a small strand of the Honmoon, how to follow it or keep it close- but she had to keep talking now. Had to make more time, to figure it out. More space to grasp the sliver of hope.
Gwi-Ma gave a snort of derision at the question.
You could have hurt those, hurting you. Could have prevented it all from happening. You have the skills for it, tenfold. These were not problems a Hunter ought to have.
Zoey blinked at the answer. This was his approach? The small shimmer glowed brighter, ever so softly, swirling around her rapidly, evading the fire's eager flames. The glow felt reassuring. Affirming. This wasn't on her. It couldn't be, if the only answer was murder.
"That is not an option." Her voice felt stronger as she spoke- shaken, yes- but not in conviction. Because this was almost silly. If Zoey wasn't in immortal peril right now, she may have even laughed. So many reasons spoke against his solution actually being an option.
Not to you, perhaps. But it is. It was.
Gwi-Ma sounded mildly irritated, under the veneer of smugness. Self righteous, self important and perfectly certain in the correctness of his statements. It reminded Zoey a bit of a teacher who loudly spouted wrong answers and refused to listen to a correction from their students.
You just didn't do it.
The accusation rung hollow in her mind, and yet Zoey felt herself gripped with an odd sense of grief and regret. It wound through her mind, taking hold of her thoughts, nestling into them, as if it belonged there. As if it had always been there.
You could have, if you had been better.
Zoey's stomach lurched at the words, the fake- they had to be fake- emotions mingling with common, well aquatinted and very real ones. But they felt… distant? Certainly, these feelings were hers. She knew this grief, she knew this boiling anger, she knew this sense of all encompassing loneliness that pulled her down into a sticky tar pit of despair, she knew them all very, very well.
But not like this.
Been more
With each of Gwi-Ma's words, the emotions felt stronger. The grief pulled at her mind, begging for it to go under, as it had many times before, to join in the misery, to swim in it, drown in it. Go for a dive for old times sake.
But it felt wrong.
Distant.
Like a cheap 3 D printed replica of herself was invading her brain, trying to convince her of a reality that she could see was fake. The flames formed the smallest of grimaces at the thought.
Been enough for everyone.
A piercing pain erupted from Zoey's mind with his last words, blinding her mind, shutting up any attempt at a coherent thought, as if it was clawing her flesh apart from the inside.
Gwi-Ma's laugh rang hollow around her as Zoey bore witness to what Athena's birth must have felt like to her father.
—-
The first thing Rumi noticed when she woke from her short, but fully restful night of sleep that any human would define as a long nap, was the pungent smell of foundation and setting spray. It lay heavy in the air, reminding her more of how the dressing rooms of Celine's shows used to smell when she was a small child, and not how a bathroom would smell after a simple application.
She wrinkled her nose as she stretched, eyes landing on the window, which was illuminated by the soft morning sun. Maybe she should open it, clear the air. Use the pretense of a stuffy room- which, admittedly, wasn't technically a lie.
And then figure out why Mira had decided to douse herself in foundation in the middle of the night.
Keeping up her looks, trying out new make up styles- none of those were generally out of the norm for Mira, sure. But just foundation and setting spray? At night? While watching over Zoey? That was… odd. Very odd. So odd, that if they weren't alone in the house, Rumi would never have even thought to blame Mira for the smell.
"Morning." Mira's tired voice broke through Rumi's thoughts. Rumi grumbled in response, kicking off her covers and getting up, stretching herself like a cat after a nice nap. She shuffled through the room and opened the window, much to a confused, and slightly disgruntled sound of Mira.
"Just airing out a bit- it smells like a Chicor exploded in here." Rumi explained simply, hoping the answer would prod any information out of Mira. A quick glance back at Mira showed an unexpected sight though. She shot up straight under Rumi's curious gaze, eyes flitting about, while her face remained mostly stoic. A human probably wouldn't be able to catch the twitch in her eyes, the quirk of her lips, the way her inhale stuttered- but Rumi sure did.
"I- uhm." Mira started, before settling her voice back into it's more relaxed register, as she clearly forced her body to relax- or at least, appear to do so. "I dropped some foundation. It shattered- sorry I cleaned it up but I didn't realize the smell still hung about."
Rumi blinked.
On the surface that seemed plausible.
But. She would have awoken to such a scuffle. And that did not explain the spray smell in the slightest.
Why was Mira lying to her?
The thought hurt, even if Rumi knew, she had no ground to stand on, no reason to feel even a hint of betrayal. Whatever Mira was hiding, it could never reach the levels of what Rumi was keeping from her teammates. Her stomach curled in shame, the feeling quickly overpowering the previous hurt. The Honmoon rumbled beneath her and Mira's eyes flew to it in surprise.
"I-I'm sorry- no it's- shit." Mira muttered out, looking uncertain, as if she too, now knew she had been caught in a lie. Had the Honmoon told her? How? Was this part of her new skill-set? The one Rumi was excluded from?
"Sorry- I just- stuff happened at night- I kinda panicked- dropped some stuff- did some stuff- It's good now- kinda?" Mira rambled through her words, nearly matching Zoey in her speed as she did so. Rumi closed the window and sat down next to the bed, leaning against Mira, ever so gently. Mira's mouth snapped shut, while her heart rate sky rocketed.
"It's fine. We're all kinda out of it right now." Rumi placated, ignoring the itch in her mind of needing to know. That wasn't her place. And she had to trust Mira that it wasn't something that could harm them. Just as Mira had to trust her.
Rumi hated putting Mira through that.
"How is she?" Rumi changed subjects, looking down at Zoey's body. Her breath was soft, her heart faint. From the outside, it looked like she was sleeping- maybe with a nightmare, but she looked… okay. What a deceiving visual.
"Still hot." Mira muttered, taking hold of one of the very warm cooling packs on Zoey's forehead. Rumi couldn't tell through the scent of make up and the wet sheen the cooling pack left behind, if Zoey was sweating or not.
"I'll go grab some more cooling packs." Rumi responded, happy to find a task to complete. Before she could walk away however, Mira's hand caught her wrist, gently holding her back. Rumi melted into the small touch.
"Wait before that-" Mira's voice sounded worried, if oddly hopeful. Rumi looked down at her, head cocked in confusion, hand slowly, nigh subconsciously, interlacing with Mira's.
"I think… I think Gwi-Ma may be behind this." Mira spoke what Rumi too, had been suspecting. Rumi nodded, lips pressed thin in a grimace.
"And if it is- I think we have to change tactics a bit." She motioned for Rumi to sit back down, which she did without a hint of resistance. Mira's hand stayed clasped in Rumi's.
"He thrives off of shame, right? And anger and fear and such?" Mira's voice was uncertain as she spoke, eyes now focused on Zoey's slowly breathing chest, on her tightly clasped hands. Celine didn't tell them too much about Gwi-Ma. Even through generations of Hunters, she had told them that very little was known about the ultimate evil that they were fighting. It made this situation extra precarious. All Mira had to go off right now, was the emotions and their expressions, which Celine had deemed, "faults and fears".
"Yes. And off of unfulfilled ambitions, ones he can bargain for." Rumi responded with a curt nod, her hold on Mira increasing as she spoke. She could feel her own shameful patterns prickle a bit at the thought of him.
"Right." Mira agreed, voice low. "I think. I think he accessed Zoey through anger and shame. It's the only thing that makes sense to me." Rumi gave a soft nod of agreement, before urging Mira to continue talking with a small raise of her eyebrows.
"Zoey's ambitions are fulfilled right now- at least the ones we know of. She is set to be an idol, her family is now secured financially. She has people who care for her." Mira's voice turned heart achingly soft as she spoke those last words. Rumi's hand landed on Zoey's clasped ones at the same moment Mira's did.
Mira was right. Zoey was burning.
Zoey's fingers unfurled, the slightest of twitches, at their touch, letting them hook their own fingers around hers gingerly.
"I don't know what he could offer her right now, by exploiting her desires." Mira finished off, voice quiet, nearly inaudible. Rumi nodded in acknowledgment
"But… I can think, or I guess make an educated guess, as to the shame and rage he could leech off of. Even if Zoey hides it." Mira gave a small shrug at the end of her words, holding up her phone for Rumi to see, where a video silently played in her camera roll.
It was Zoey, back at her concert in Burbank. A recording of her performance before Rumi and Mira joined her, taken clearly from the back of the crowd. It was shaky, slightly blurry, and yet, Zoey stood out starkly, demanding attention even through the small screen. Underneath all the shaky commotion, the lyrics to her song played, in what looked like professionally made subtitles.
"I asked Bobby if he had a video of the rest of the performance." Mira answered as she put the phone down, to rejoin the hand holding circle. Rumi wasn't sure if Mira had done that action consciously or not.
"He got it back to me within an hour. Subtitles and all." Mira gave a soft, fond smile, that Rumi joined. Bobby was not payed enough for what he did for them, but she truly hoped he knew just how appreciated he was. She would need to tell him next time she saw him.
"Why did you need it?" Rumi got the conversation back on track, her eyes still on the playing video. Zoey looked so alive with it, so mesmerizing. Full of energy. The opposite of her limp, hot body now.
"Thought we'd find some clues to her emotions in them. To who she was before we met her, y'know?" Mira shrugged slightly as she spoke, clearly uncertain of her own plan. It was admittedly, a small reach- but one Rumi could easily get behind. It was worth it, if it could help Zoey.
"I do remember the lyrics being quite… unexpected of her." Rumi agreed, trying not to sound too awestruck as she remembered the concert. Even Zoey's darker themes had fit her perfectly. And never mind those knives. Focus.
"They are mesmerizing- but she did start the concert with a disclaimer that the songs don't reflect how she feels now. So I wanted to look at them again." Mira motioned to her phone with her chin, which was still playing the performance. It had moved on to Zoey's second song by now, if Rumi remembered the concert correctly. And she did.
"There's a lot of anger." Rumi muttered, voice soft. Her fingers gently caressed over Zoey's, trying to keep the near room temperature cooling pack on her hands, hoping the water of the condensation could add anything, help in any slight way. They would really need to get up soon to replace them.
"A lot of hurt." Mira agreed with a somber nod. She reached for her phone, scrolling though the video, as if refreshing her mind on the lyrics. But her eyes didn't catch on the screen. Rumi wasn't going to point that out though- she understood the ich in Mira's fingers to do something, to not sit by so helplessly, perfectly well.
"We know she was bullied. Heavily. Bobby sent me what he could find on school reports." Rumi heard her phone ping from across the room. Rumi could only assume Mira had sent her the reports to look at later. She wasn't about to leave Zoey's side right now, unless necessary.
"It… was violent." Mira grimaced, with thinly veiled rage under the surface. Rumi was starting to think they shouldn't have left those dipshits off the hook so easily, with just a broken jaw and a scare. A problem they could fix on a different day.
"I can't say that Freudian slip when we payed her for the tattoo wasn't… telling." Rumi recalled. It wasn't something she had wanted to linger on- clearly Zoey hadn't wanted them to- but it was difficult to fully forget Zoey downplaying her worth so easily, or the worth of her art, time and labor, as if it was part of her everyday speech. Or as if it had been apart of it, anyway. By the look on Mira's face, she felt the same way.
"It is pretty easy to conclude she has issues to work through." Mira tried to keep the tone of her voice joking, pitched, as if mirroring how Zoey discussed her own issues, lithe and without gravity- unlike with Zoey however, Mira's tone couldn't hide anything.
"A lot of faul-" Rumi started off, without much thought, ready to repeat what Celine had drilled into her over the years. It was second nature to her at this point, to have it in her mind, akin to a second, slightly less important Hunters mantra.
"They aren't faults." Mira's voice cut her off, stern, but gentle. It took Rumi aback. Mira was right, they weren't. But. But-
"But they are fears." Rumi refocused her jostled mind onto the second part of the all important, all protecting order. "And anger. And shame." Mira sent the softest of glares her way and Rumi didn't like how she felt just a little bit proud of the fact that she had outsmarted Mira's correction. That pride, for better or worse, quickly fell away when the implications of her words settled in.
"So if we go with this theory. If we say Gwi-Ma is influencing her. If we say he is using her fears and shame… what now?" Rumi didn't mean for her plea to sound so desperate, but by the falter of her voice, by the small quiver of Mira's eyebrows, the way she swallowed empty, keeping down her first words- she did.
"Do we tell Celine?" Mira shook her head at Rumi's idea, holding up her phone, to show the nights call log. At least a dozen calls, all to Celine. None of them answered. Rumi furrowed her brows, looking at the screen. Celine never missed a call from them. Never. Not unless she-
"I think she's out on a hunt." Mira finished Rumi's thought for her, pocketing her phone. Mira's hand landed back on Zoey's, her fingers, curling around Zoey's fingertips with a sense of urgent protection.
It didn't make any sense. Celine hadn't hunted solo in years. Sure, she chaperoned them- but even then, at least for the last five she had barely ever felt the need to so much as summon her weapon, never mind hunt.
"She'll be fine. Remember, she's been a Hunter for like, centuries." Mira gave Rumi's shoulder a soft nudge, the faintest hint of a smile on her face. Rumi leaned into the touch, letting Mira catch some of her body weight.
"She isn't that old." Rumi tried to correct her, for whatever reason.
"You know what I mean. She's got experience. And gray hair. She'll do great." Rumi let out a soft chuckle at Mira's words, letting her body be shifted over to Zoey as Mira got up, offering out their still intertwined hands, as if expecting for Rumi to… clasp it again? Rumi shrugged the thought aside and tightened her grip and let herself be hoisted onto her feet.
"For now, let's focus our worry on Zoey." Mira's hand landed on the small of Rumi's back, an action that made it very hard to think for a moment, giving her a soft, gentle push to the direction of the door. Right. Rumi had offered to get ice packs. She could do that. A task. Totally. Mira's fingers were brushing her hips.
"I'll gather some things I think can help. Or try to help. You get the next batch of the cold." Mira slipped past her with those words, her fingertips ghosting over Rumi's back as she did so, sending a soft shiver down Rumi's spine.
The Honmoon gave a soft, gentle glow beneath her, forming the faintest of trails behind Mira, and pooling slightly under Zoey. Rumi gave a soft, brief glance back at Zoey, before hurrying out to grab what she needed.
She didn't know if any of their actions would impact the situation. If Zoey could perceive them in any way, if her body could even register the cold, never mind their touch.
But they had to try.
They had no other choice.
—-
Zoey's head spun as her knees met the dark purple swirling floor, her hands landing in it only seconds later, grasping at the mist between them, letting it run through her fingers like the water of a fiery creek.
The pain in her mind was piercing, head splitting, as if Gwi-Ma was ripping her skull apart by it's very seams, digging his fiery claws into her brain's many wrinkles and crushing her whole being between his white hot flames.
The burn invaded her thoughts, clouding her mind, blocking her throat, curling in her stomach like a hot iron branding her organs from the inside out.
Gwi-Ma's cackle echoed through the space, filling up the void. It was as if his voice, his presence was the only one.
Zoey reached out for the Honmoon again with shaking hands, eyes clenched closed, her fingers feebly feeling the air, the absolute nothing that they hit, falling limply to her side again as Gwi-Ma's laughter increased, mocking the clear futility of her actions.
There was no escape.
There was nothing here.
Only her.
Alone.
With Gwi-Ma.
Right?
Why did that thought feel so… wrong?
She was kneeling in a purple void, in hell, being mocked by the devil, how dare her feeble body still hold out hope?
Zoey opened her eyes slowly, blinking at the unrelenting purple fire, her mind clearing of the haze, if ever so slightly and slowly.
Something was wrong.
She let her hands flatten out against the floor, watching as the purple mist swirled around her tingling fingertips, shimmering, as if mocking the light of the Honmoon. A flick of her wrist dispelled the vision.
Something had been wrong.
She looked up, sitting back onto her feet, kneeling, surveilling, studying the area around her, her hands clenching and releasing at her sides. She wished she had her notebooks on her. A pen. A way to get these swirling thoughts out and into the world, put them down, hold them in front of her, actualize them. Fuck she wished she had her notebooks.
The purple mist growled angrily at her at the thought and if she could focus, she may have sworn it had inched away by… well, maybe an inch.
Her eyes flit around the area, head turning, trying to make sense of the realm again, to ignore Gwi-Ma's laughter, to shut out the pain.
Because yes, her head hurt. Yes, she felt fucking miserable. Yes, everything was absolutely terrible and she was probably about one slip up away from dying or whatever the fuck happened when you talked to Satan.
Pero habia algo mas que estaba jodidamente mal.
Her mind cleared, just a bit, at the recognition. She shook her head, as if that would cause the rest of the goop to be dispelled, like her mind was some sort of etch a sketch. Because. Yeah. Yeah.
Plus- Zoey had noticed before- hadn't she?
Something about all of this was just so off. What was that something? Her hands fidgeted with the hem of her shirt as she tried to focus on a singular thought, tried to visualize what she had pinpointed before.
What had she noticed?
She agonizingly played back the last few hours in her mind. Gwi-Ma's words, her pain, where they were, how she got here. The images felt fleeting, like coated in lube and all she was given to catch them was a faulty fishing rod. None of them stuck, slipping in and out of her mind in seconds.
What was wrong?
Zoey shifted, crossing her legs, humming a small tune as she did so, relieved to find her vocal chords somewhat spared by the thick fog down her throat. The tune was quiet- couldn't hold a candle to the laughter around her, couldn't conjure the Honmoon. I couldn't save her.
But it could act as the smallest of mental shields, as she found her mind regaining itself, slowly, with each new note of the old Sunlight Sisters song she hummed. It was from their debut album. The one that started it all, the one Zoey had her mom play for her on repeat as a kid.
A small tune to drown out the devil.
Wait-
Zoey's throat closed up, her breath catching, singing halting in it's tracks.
There was a new sound. A different sound, circling her, hiding between the roaring fire and cackling flames.
A new tune, faint, distant, but distinctly not Gwi-Ma flooded Zoey's ears, blocking out his incessant and slowly simply annoying cackle out like those high quality soundproof headphones Kait had gifted her on her 12th birthday that she was still relatively certain had been shoplifted for her. The sound grew louder at the memory, as if responding to her thought.
She couldn't make out the tune exactly but she could recognize what it was, her eyes widening in recognition and hand clamping over her mouth to not give herself away anymore than her thoughts already might have, to the ever grinning fire around her.
Singing.
Why could she suddenly hear singing?
—-
The sound of marine animal documentaries had blended into a single background noise that consisted of rushing waves and the voice of David Attenborough, intermingled by a few animals chirping or shouting. Rumi had stopped being able to pay full attention to the loop of movies they had set up after the first two. She felt a little bit guilty for not focusing in on Zoey's interests, but she could make do with the emotion. Given the circumstances, she wasn't even sure if Zoey herself would be able to focus.
As a whale sang in the background, Rumi let out a yawn, giving herself a moment to de-tangle from the pile that her and Mira had formed around Zoey's body so that she could stretch her sore limbs.
After yesterday, they had loaded up on ice packs, gathered every item that could be of importance and settled in a relatively comfortable nest around Zoey. Her head was propped up on the turtle plushy they had gifted her back in Burbank. They had tucked her other stuffed animal companions in her arms, and had layered themselves on top of her, in alternating shifts, to provide her body a form of deep pressure of some sort.
The bed around them was littered with Zoey's favorite clothes, jewelry, animal posters, Sunlight Sisters merchandise and, much to both Mira and Rumi's worry, the "emotional support knife chest", which they had been sure to keep locked. Neither of them were ready to trust the Honmoon with stopping the knives from impaling them in their sleep.
The sound of the clattering knives in the box certainly did not help the quiet atmosphere, as they jingled and jangled by even the slightest dip in the mattress. Rumi was almost naively hoping the noise could help reach Zoey.
Mira gave a soft grunt at the jostling, her voice coming across tired as she spoke, having been woken from an uneasy nap.
"All good?" Her voice was rough with sleep as she shook her head to clear it, her hand reaching for the propped up laptop, before stopping herself in her tracks. No matter how ongoing the sound was, they had agreed to keep it on. Rumi simply nodded at her question, after shooting her an understanding smile.
"Just had to stretch." Rumi mumbled out in response, settling herself back over Zoey and in a possibly delusional recognition, could swear that Zoey's hands searched for hers first, before taking them in her own.
"Is she doing any better?" Mira asked, though they both knew the answer. Rumi shook her head as she let herself lay with her full weight back on Zoey, hoping the deep pressure did literally anything at all. Mira dropped her head at the answer, her hand finding Rumi and Zoey's.
"Figures." She muttered out, dejected. "I shouldn't have expected anything after just a few hours."
"I wish we could at least get a sign if this is doing anything. Like her body moving, just a little. I'd give anything for that." Rumi added on, glancing at the pile of items around them. "It's hard seeing her so…" She trailed off, Zoey's quiet fingers in her own.
"Still." Mira finished, nodding her head. She sat up a bit straighter, brushing her free hand through her long, tangled hair. Rumi hummed quietly in agreement.
"Zoey is never still. It's so… unnatural. Unnerving." Mira continued, a mournful lilt in her voice. "You know she even moves in her sleep?" Her tone took on a wave of affection, that rolled over Rumi like a warm blanket as she remembered the few times that she and Zoey had shared a bed. By far not enough times. Never enough times.
"Even deep in concentration, you won't find her still." Rumi agreed, an image from back in Burbank flooding her mind, the nostalgia for that easier, safer time, just a few months ago, punching her in the gut so hard she would have doubled over, were she not already laying down on Zoey's far too softly rising and falling chest.
"Remember when she did your tattoo?" Mira gave a soft scoff at Rumi's words, a soft red hue on her face as she looked away, clearly meaning to hide what even Rumi could interpret as a blush.
"Hard to forget." Mira muttered, holding up her ankle to show the tiny turtle Zoey had slowly and meticulously poked into Mira's skin. It held up well, over the last few months. Mira's immaculate aftercare complimented Zoey's artistic skill well to preserve the creature on her leg in pristine condition.
"She did such an amazing job." Mira added on, the awe never leaving her voice as she put her leg back down again, swinging it over Zoey's, softly nudging Rumi's. The unexpected contact sent a jolt of electricity up Rumi's spine- like she was some sort of Victorian prude, as Zoey would probably put it, if she knew.
Though, given how Rumi was forced to dress, maybe she shouldn't be too offended by that thought. Whatever, she had a point to make here.
"And even then, she was rocking back and forth. Her upper body was as still as stone, but her feet were practically imitating a seesaw." Rumi gave a small, halfhearted attempt at a laugh as she spoke, but it came out nigh bitter, and certainly yearning. Mira gave a small smile at the anecdote.
"Do you remember her performance?" Mira whispered, after a small moment of silence.
"Hard to forget." Rumi threw Mira's words back at her with a small grin. Mira rolled her eyes, though the action lacked any semblance of a hard edge. "She was dazzling." Rumi added on for good measure.
"She was." Mira lay back down, her words interrupted by a yawn as she did so. "She shone brilliantly. The way the Honmoon lit up…" She trailed off, her voice drowsy, letting the Honmoon give the softest of shimmers in return.
Rumi nodded, hearing the way Mira's breathing was slowly evening out, how her heart rate was slowly lowering. Rumi was about to settle back down, to pretend to sleep for a few more hours, when Mira spoke up again, voice quiet.
"Can you sing?" She asked, sounding uncertain, as if she was asking for something she shouldn't. Rumi cocked her head in confusion.
"Like now. Can you sing?" Rumi was about to ask why, what Mira was getting at, when Mira's heart spiked, just a bit, as she inhaled to keep talking. "For Zoey. For the Honmoon." It made sense, Rumi supposed. But why now? Why not together, when they were more awake?
Mira's increasing pulse shut down Rumi's further questions and her next words interrupted the entire train of thought, as it came to a halt, crashing into her frontal lobe and creating a multiple vehicle collision.
"For me?" The words were nearly inaudible to human ears, but Rumi heard them. Loud and clear and vulnerable. She shut down the questions, shifted herself into a slightly seated position and let her other hand loop around Zoey, catching Mira's cheek, who stilled at the touch, before melting into it, pressing into Rumi's hand, ever so gently.
"Of course I can."
—-
Rumi finished the last note of the seventh song, listening for Mira's heartbeat. It had slowed, over time, her breath turning slow and long as it did. The first song Rumi had chosen, had been Zoey's. The one they had performed together. It was fast paced, and as she had finished it, she could tell that despite Mira's best attempts at fooling her, Mira was still very awake. Perhaps more so than before.
So Rumi had switched tactics. Started with a slow lullaby from her childhood. Continued with a slow track from an old Sunlight Sisters album. Hummed the Hunters mantra. Ran through a few more old Sunlight Sisters tracks, slowed and softened, before realizing Mira had completely dozed off.
Rumi wanted to keep singing- the Honmoon was shining, ever so softly from around her, encouraging her for more, but she was worried that more sound now, would wake MIra back up again. She wasn't a light sleeper, but Rumi wasn't about to risk it. Mira needed sleep, desperately, and she was sure that the Honmoon could understand as much, given they now had some odd connection. One Rumi was still excluded from.
The stinging thought was pushed to the edge of her mind as Rumi focused on the two women laying next to her. If she didn't know any better- which she very well did- she could pretend for just a moment, that both of her girls were simply sleeping.
But Zoey was so still. And Rumi couldn't fool herself for more than a moment. Not with the faint pulse running through Rumi's mind, Not with her shallow breath. Not with the heat she was exuding, that refused to come down, no matter how much they cooled her.
Not with the way that Zoey's hand was clutching Rumi's, stiff, unmoving.
Rumi gently nudged Zoey's fingertips up, prying her hand free. She had to switch out the cooling pads. It was far beyond time.
Rumi sat up onto her knees, gathering the packs up, one by one, slowly as to not disturb Mira's sleeping figure. The condensation pooled on Zoey's body, which Rumi wiped away softly with a cloth, though there wasn't much she could do about Zoey's soaked shirt, not right now. She focused on Zoey's hands, giving her damp fingers a gentle wipe, nearly reeling at the strong scent that wafted out at her.
Rumi held up the small washcloth, giving it a tentative sniff, eyeing the slight dark spot on it, from where she had just wiped. Why did it smell like make up? Why did Zoey's fingers smell of foundation and setting spray?
She wrinkled her nose, holding one of Zoey's hands up, into the turtle light, squinting at them. She wiped them again, gingerly, with the cloth, suspicious of the small amount of make up that came off again.
For that's what it was, clearly, in the dim light. Make up. On Zoey's hands. Her fingers.
Why?
Rumi looked down at Mira's sleeping form, laying Zoey's hand back down on her stomach as she exited the bed with the softest of knife chest jingles as she could.
Locating a few wipes and make up remover was easy enough. Getting back onto the bed without waking Mira up was… a task she managed to clear, that felt a little bit like a convoluted training exercise. Actually applying what she had just brought? That was the real difficulty.
What could possibly be so important on Zoey's hands, that it needed to be hidden? That Mira- it had to be Mira- would hide it from Rumi? Did Rumi deserve to feel hurt over this being hidden from her? Was she allowed to wipe off and discover what was being covered up?
With shaking hands and a hammering heart, Rumi gently took up Zoey's limp arm, placing her hand in her lap. Zoey's hand twitched, ever so softly at the contact of the wipes as Rumi held her finger, slowly wiping off the multiple layers of foundation, pausing after each minuscule movement, to listen to Mira's heart beat for any sign of her waking up.
Rumi squinted down at Zoey's hand, seeing something dark peak out from under the layer of muck. It flashed, in and out of view, to the rhythm of Zoey's heartbeat, never quite manifesting, never staying still.
Rumi wiped along the spot, one last time, freezing as the spot shone clearly in the small light of the turtle lamp.
A pattern.
There was no mistaking it.
No blinking, no looking away, no pinching herself, no seventh and eight closer look made it any less apparent as to what that pulsing line was.
Zoey's finger, had a dark, purple, jagged demon pattern running down from the tip to the knuckle, flashing clear as day, singing itself into Rumi's mind.
Rumi nearly dropped Zoey's arm, fumbling with it as she tried to parse out what she was seeing, was trying to keep down her voice, keep her heart in check, trying and failing to not fucking panic.
The only thing her mind could hold on to, outside of a barrage of fear, panic and confusion, was the thought that hit her with the weight of a freight train.
So this was why Mira had been so certain Gwi-Ma was involved.
But that didn't make any sense. If Mira had found out- no, not if. She found out. She found out first. She had covered it up. Mira had found out. And yet, Zoey was here. Alive. Not even guarded. Mira hadn't even told Rumi, she had hid it. Did Mira think Rumi would hurt Zoey? The thought shot through her mind painfully as she quelled the grief it rose up with.
It didn't matter. Not now. She could ask that later. Tomorrow.
What mattered was this was a clue. What mattered was that they hadn't manifested permanently, that they were localized. What mattered was…
What mattered was that they were covered.
The wave of relief that washed over Rumi was nearly smothered by the sickening guilt at that first impulse. Relief? She shouldn't be feeling fucking relief.
She had just discovered that her friend had demon patterns and that her other friend- was friend even right?- had covered it up, possibly out of fear of Rumi hurting her.
She wasn't allowed to feel fucking relief!
She couldn't- for so many reasons! Zoey was in trouble. Mira was scared of Rumi's possible reaction. This situation was so different from her own.
And yet, as Rumi huddled over the two, steading her breath and holding back long forming tears, her body shaking as she clung tight to Zoey's hand, Rumi couldn't help but feel that relief.
Because for the first time, she had tangible proof she could clutch to like a lifeline, that Mira may not kill her when Rumi told her everything. That she would help hide her. Protect her.
Still want her.