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Shades of Gray: Chapter 6

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"I'm telling you there is no way that that kid can get that good after just killing four demons," Crispin said, sipping a glass of wine. "He's just not normal…"

"He is normal," Fai insisted, stroking Smokewing's feathers. "Well, maybe not by normal peoples standards, but by our standards, he's just as normal as the rest of us."

"He's not normal, period," Crispin insisted. "The kid is weird. He's too talented, too good…"

"I'm amazed you're even acknowledging that he's good," Elias responded, reaching for a sandwich before his hand was slapped away by Malachi. "I would think that you would refuse to acknowledge him since you hate him so much."

"I don't hate him," Crispin answered, successfully stealing a sandwich. "I just don't tolerate him very well because he just reminds me so much of every other little whore that I've had to perform an autopsy on…and I hate whores."

"Give him a break," Malachi said sounding annoyed. "He's had a rough life; you can tell that much just by looking at him. Try not to harass him, Crispin. The last thing I want to have to do is go chasing him down after he's just shown up."

With a sigh, Crispin responded, "Fine. I'll give the kid a break provided he stays away from me and doesn't give me attitude."

"That's the last thing you need, is more attitude," Lucien muttered, pouring himself some more wine. "You've got enough attitude for everyone here and then some." He smiled at the glare Crispin sent him and then said, "You can't deny that fact."

"True, I won't deny it," Crispin said, throwing a crumpet at Lucien. "Still, you can't talk to me as though you're so high and mighty. Sometimes you are so childish, I have to wonder whether it is you or Fai who is the child in this twisted, dysfunctional family."

Lucien frowned and said, "I am not a child nor do I act childishly at any time. You're just upset that the new guy is a teenager and better than you at fighting."

"He is not better than me," Crispin snarled. "He's just weird and that's why he seems so talented. He's not better than me at anything except maybe being a whore."

"Please," Jules said in a note of finality, "enough talk of Dean being a whore. Surely, there must be something better or of more importance that we can talk about."

"Like what?" Elias asked with a shrug. "There's no missions we need to divide up and there's nothing else interesting that ever happens here. Keys coming here is about as interesting as it gets. I mean, if you can think of something more interesting, I'd love to hear it."

Jules sent him a small glare, hating the fact that the annoying teen was right for once; aside from Dean coming here, there was really nothing interesting that happened around the mansion with the exception of having to leave on missions to kill demons. There really wasn't that much that happened there and, for that matter, there wasn't that much happened that they hadn't seen before since they'd seen almost everything. It had gotten to the point where they weren't really surprised by anything; how could they be? They routinely fought and killed demons and traveled to parts of the world that most people would fear to tread or just plain hadn't explored yet so how could they be surprised by anything?

"If you're talking about Dean, shut up!" Remy shouted as she opened the door to the dining hall with a slam. "Talking about people behind their backs is wrong and just plain rude! So knock it off and be nice to him because I had a hell of a time convincing him to come down and join us for lunch!"

Crispin opened his mouth, no doubt about to say something regarding not wanting Dean to join them for lunch, but at the warning look from Perrine, he sighed and muttered something into his wine glass that sound suspiciously like, "Damn tail showing up here and ruining my appetite."

Dean gave Remy a look that plainly asked if he had to be there; apparently not receiving the answer he wanted, he walked over and took a seat by Malachi. He picked up a cucumber finger sandwich and nibbled at it, not really that hungry; he set the sandwich back down and pushed the plate away. He shifted awkwardly in his seat for a few minutes, unable to get comfortable and not really wanting to be there in the first place.

Once he was finally fed up with the awkward silence that had settled around them, Dean cleared his throat and said, "If my presence isn't required here, I'm going to take a walk."

"I'd prefer it if you went with someone else," Malachi said, a concerned look briefly dancing across his face. "It's far too dangerous for an Apostle to be out in the open on their own since demons can appear anytime and anywhere."

"I know," Dean mumbled, looking away from Malachi, "but I would like some privacy and I don't see how I can have privacy if I am constantly being dogged by someone."

Crispin snorted, wine coming out of his nose; it didn't take a genius to figure out that he was clearly amused by Dean's use of the word 'dogged' since it was a term often used whenever two men of a similar persuasion met and engaged in intercourse in a public restroom. Given Dean's previous profession, Crispin could very clearly imagine him being 'dogged' quite often.

"Is there something you wish to say to me, Crispin?" Dean asked, his tone of voice so cold that even Crispin felt the chill. When Crispin turned his gaze to Dean, he almost gasped when he noticed the piercing frostiness in his gaze.

"Not really since I don't particularly find conferring with tails interesting, exciting, or worthwhile," Crispin responded once he regained his composure.

"I suppose that you prefer 'experimenting' on tails like myself," Dean said in a deadly, venomous whisper. "After all, I doubt that any tail would waste their time or breath on you. Besides, you look like someone who would leave without paying."

Deciding to intervene in order to prevent a fight from breaking out and destroying the mansion, Malachi cleared his throat and said, "Perhaps it would be a good idea for you to go for your walk now, Dean."

Dean, sensing that Malachi was wanting to prevent a fight that would destroy the mansion, nodded and said, "I should be back in about three hours or so--probably by supper. If I'm not back by then, I will be back by morning at the very latest. Don't worry if I'm not; I'll turn up eventually maybe."

Dean walked out of the dining hall and left the mansion; the only way he would be able to get some time alone--really alone--and some peace would be for him to go for a walk. He knew a few places he could for a walk without risking being bothered by normal people or any Apostles that may or may not follow him; of course, the problem with his desire for solitude and silence was that these places would most likely be frequented by demons that did not have anything on their minds that would result in something good for him.

He shook his head and walked towards Whitechapel; he figured he might as well visit the district to see if what Elizabeth was up to. After all, he had promised to meet her last night if he didn't run into too much work and she was a bit like his mother; she had been in the profession for longer than him and would often send customers who were of that persuasion his way. She also looked out for him and made sure that none of his clients roughed him up too badly; she would even take him to the hospital on the occasion when he would get roughed up by a client. He wouldn't say that she was his best friend, but she might as well have been.

With a smile, he started walking toward the common lodging-house at 32 Flowers and Dean Street; really, he may not have liked being around people, but he could stand being around Elizabeth. Perhaps she'd even have some fresh fruit so he could make a fruit salad for lunch and maybe some tiramisu for dessert; maybe, if he asked really nicely, she'd be so kind as to give him a shot of whiskey. He was practically moaning in ecstasy at the mere idea of a lunch he would be eating with a friend who didn't think of him as just a whore and who actually acknowledged that he was something more.

He turned onto the right street and kept walking until he had reached his destination; he frowned as he looked up at the common lodging-house. It was badly in need of a new coat of paint and many cosmetic repairs, but for many people including Elizabeth and sometimes even Dean it was home; knowing exactly where he was going, Dean walked into the house and started up the stars to the fourth floor. Dean paused, his keen ears picking up the sounds of a man in the room with Elizabeth; he knew he shouldn't have been surprised or shocked, but he couldn't help it. Usually, she didn't entertain clients this early in the day, but he supposed this particular client was a rather affluent one who would most likely pay double her regular price of two hundred guineas; of course, it didn't change his plans much. All the man's presence would do is cause him to have to wait until he left; other than that, nothing in his plans changed at all.

Almost half an hour later, the man slipped out of the room and made his way out of the common lodging-house, no doubt going to return to his wife and children back at his townhouse; Dean silently entered the room before the door shut, intent on surprising Elizabeth. He smiled when he heard water running in the bathroom; he sat down on the couch to wait for her to come out. He noticed an open letter on the table and, curiosity getting the better of him, picked it up to read it; he frowned when he noticed that the letter was from a doctor. Once he noticed that the letter came from a doctor, other words jumped out at him such as 'the pox', 'fetus', and 'abortion'; he frowned and set the letter back on the table, not wanting Elizabeth to know that he had read something so private and personal.

"Hey, Dean," Elizabeth said, walking out of the bathroom with nothing on but a towel wrapped around her hair. "I was worried when you didn't show up last night. Did you run into much work or did you have a particularly rough client?"

"Actually, it was a pretty slow night," Dean said, stretching out. "I'm sorry that I worried you, Lizza. I met a guy and went back to his place for the night; he's a pretty cool guy and he invited me to live with him just to get me off the streets. I think I might take him up on that offer…"

"You know," Elizabeth said, a motherly concern crossing her face at that moment, "if you wanted off the street you could always come and live here with me. I mean, of course you would have to clear out of here whenever I have a client over, but at least you'd have a bed with a roof--albeit a leaky one--over your head and you wouldn't have to work  like this anymore if you didn't want to. I could get you a job working at a client's shop if you wanted…"

Dean looked over at her; Elizabeth knew he wouldn't accept her offer. He didn't want to have to depend on anyone else; he'd learned from years of being hurt and being on his own that the only person you could really depend on was yourself. Besides, the room was barely big enough for her and she didn't need him to stay with her when he had a perfect room in an abandoned building that he could stay in if he decided not to stay at the mansion with the other Apostles. Of course, he knew she was only offering because he knew he was like the child she had lost back when she'd still been married to her husband before she'd gotten involved in this lifestyle.

"Thanks for the offer," he began. "I'll consider it."

"No, you won't," Elizabeth said, slipping into a robe. "You don't want to lose your independence, which I can understand. That's why you never get close to anyone; that's why you keep everyone at arm's length. You don't want to get close to someone because your don't want them to see how really vulnerable and damaged you are and you don't want them to try to tame you, take away that free-spirited independence you have that you've grown so fond of."

Dean nodded; she had spoken the truth. He didn't let anyone get close because he didn't want to end up getting hurt or being domesticated; he quite enjoyed the freedom he possessed and he didn't want anyone to take it from him. He shook his head and asked, "So, you have any fresh fruit around here? Tiramisu? Whiskey?"

"In the kitchen, no, and absolutely not," she answered in perfect order, even giving him an annoyed, firm parental look when she gave the answer to his whiskey inquiry.

He smiled and walked into the kitchen, seeking out the fruit that he would use to make his fruit salad; after finding apples, grapes, bananas, and oranges, he sliced, diced, and peeled the fruits. The fruit was then placed into two different bowls that way Elizabeth could have a bowl if she wanted one; he reached into the cabinet and pulled out a bottle of whiskey, knowing that, even though she had said that he couldn't have any, she would want some and would no doubt allow him just a small taste.

He turned to carry the whiskey and the fruit bowls over to the couch, but stopped, a headache suddenly attacking him; the pain was so intense that he dropped what he was carrying before he fell to his knees. He bit his lip to keep from crying out, but could do nothing to stop the tears that were pouring from his eyes; he'd never felt anything this painful in his life. He wanted to scream, wanted to take a butcher knife and plunge it into his skull--anything just to make the pain end. He felt like his head was going to explode…

Just as suddenly as the pain came, it was gone; Dean opened his eyes and stood up, a confused look crossing his features for the briefest of moments before he remembered where he was. He smiled and picked the fruit bowls and whiskey bottle up; he walked over to the couch and sat down, waiting for Elizabeth to join him. He then caught sight of his reflection in the bowl and noticed two gleaming red eyes glaring back at him.
Okay, so this is chapter 6! Yeah...it's been a long time since I updated. Shades of Gray is finished and the sequel is in the works. I may start posting up a couple chapters of the sequel as well.

Anyway, there's not much to say about this chapter except that we've just met one of Jack the Ripper's future victims.

As always, characters are mine so no stealing and reviews are welcomed, but no flames.
© 2011 - 2024 RemySwan
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