Ronan's hands shook as he washed the dishes. After what happened, all he could think of was to run away. It was a stupid idea. He left Viktor all alone with Quinn, who'd passed out from pure exhaustion after doing… whatever she'd been doing.
He had no idea, to tell the truth. One moment a creepy deer man stood in the house, about to kill them; the next, it was flung across the room by their mental little sister. His stupid sister who couldn't even do basic algebra. His sister who was scared of ghosts.
He focused back on the dishes, scrubbing extra hard until his hands turned red. How could it be though? Why was that… thing after his dad? His old dad who'd done nothing wrong other than be a shitty father at times. Now this extraterrestrial being was after him?
The plate smashed.
"Shit," he hissed as blood coated his hands.
"What the hell did you do?" Diana, his coworker called, rushing over to him. She brought out a napkin, holding it against his hands. "I'll get the first aid kit."
"It's fine," Ronan reassured her. He felt like such an idiot in front of this girl. She'd worked here around the same time Ronan had, if a little shorter; and he still felt everything he did in front of her embarrassed himself more.
Her hair was platinum blonde and her skin as pale as snow. Her gaze was full of worry in her deep blue eyes.
"It looks like a pretty big cut," Diana pointed out.
There was a small sound from the door. The two of them looked over. Ronan sighed. It was probably their regular pest. They went through this same song and dance every week. A small black cat would visit them, meowing pathetically for food. Ronan hated cats and this one seemed to hate him just as much. Whenever he'd stand near the little creature, doing an innocent task like taking out the bins, it would hiss and shriek at him in anger.
"I'll get it," Ronan mumbled, grabbing the broom, ready to swat at it.
"But you're cut," Diana started.
"You're just gonna feed the scrappy thing," Ronan interrupted her. "Boss says to just chase it off. I won't be gone for a moment."
He slid open the door and sure enough it was there, standing tall and proud as usual as if it ruled the place.
"Yeah, figured it was you," he scoffed before swinging the broom at it. Usually it would jump in fright and run away. This time it moved swiftly, leaping out the way with narrowed eyes, pursuing him further. "Hey, back off! What's wrong with you?"
"What's wrong with me? You're the one trying to hit me with a broom!" The cat spoke.
The. Cat. Spoke.
Ronan almost fainted then and there. Instead he fell into his back, making a pathetic attempt at scrambling away.
"The cat talks! The cat talks!" He repeated in fear to himself. "Holy shit. The cat talks."
The cat stared at him in annoyance and slight disappointment. Its tail flicked agitated.
"How can you talk…? Could you always…?" He breathed out, backing away, only for the feline to pursue him.
"Since a few days ago actually," the cat said. "But I've been aware of my existence since I was banished to this cursed realm." His tail lashed angrily.
Ronan controlled his breathing. "Okay. Talking cat. From another world. Totally normal."
There was a pause.
"Fuck that!" Ronan shrieked, scrambling to his feet, slamming the door back inside.
"You okay?" Diana asked worriedly, walking over to him.
"I'm sorry," he said. "I need to go. I can't… I just… can't…"
He threw off his apron and fled.
—
Unsure what to do, Viktor had simply dumped Quinn in the back of his car. Ronan had fled the scene and Olga was nowhere to be found to look after the girl. It wasn't like he could explain why she was in such a state to begin with. Viktor rubbed his head. This was a lot. Too much if anything.
He gently laid her in the back of the car before he pulled out of the car park and made his way back to the crime scene. He knew going back to work was a stupid idea. Ridiculous even. But he had no idea how else to cope. And it's not like he could get off work with a monster excuse.
Pulling up to the crime scene, he hesitated before leaving her there. He was sure Quinn would be fine. As long as she used her flashy powers again at least.
Walking up to the scene, sure enough the body was just as mangled and deformed as his previous sighting.
"Detective Wytte?" An officer spoke rather cautiously.
"What is it?"
"These fellas here say the case has been taken over," he said, gesturing to a group of odd looking people. They were dressed in black suits and wore sunglasses. Very stereotypical for cia agents. The most strange thing was their hair. White as snow. Maybe they were Swedish?
"We work for the government," one spoke, walking over to an angry Viktor. "We'll be taking this case from here."
"Who put you in charge?" Viktor sneered.
"I'm afraid we can't disclose that," he man spoke, shaking his head. Viktor's eyes narrowed. "Now, if you don't mind, we'd prefer civilians weren't here for this." He knew what that meant. They didn't want him here.
"Fine," he grumbled, shoving past them, back into the car. He sighed, adjusting his seat ready to go before he looked in the mirror at Quinn.
She wasn't there.
His heart sped up quickly.
Shit. Shit. Shit!
He quickly reversed the car, speeding down the hill into the nearest town. He'd known her long enough to figure out where she was going. Sure enough in a random back alley talking secretly to some junkie.
This one was a new one. He had a shaved head and tired eyes but was clearly in some form of numbness right now. He gazed up at Viktor, not bothering to run away from the cop as he was too high to care and Viktor was out of uniform.
"Shit!" Quinn hissed before giving him a big fake smile. "Hey! What're you doing here?"
"I told you to stay in the car!" He commanded.
"That was your car?" She asked, her friend now stepping away cautiously.
He realised why she would've left now. It must've given her a fright, waking up in some car she didn't recognise.
"Wait… I locked the door… how did you…?" He started before being rudely interrupted.
"Where you trying to kidnap me?" Quinn accused.
"Woah, not cool man," the guy next to her spoke.
"Who is this?" Viktor asked.
"Oh, a friend from rehab," Quinn dismissed like she didn't care at all. Knowing her there was something of his she wanted. And he knew it wasn't his presence. He checked her pupils. Normal. For her at least. She swatted his hand away. "What're you doing?"
He threw her over his shoulder.
Viktor ignored the man, quickly updating his crew on his walkie to come down and take the guy.
Pretty much throwing Quinn back in the car, he slammed the door shut and climbed into his seat. He rested his head on the wheel then started moving before Quin decided to jump out the car and clamber into the front seat. He jumped in fright, slamming the break on.
"How'd you unlock that?" He gasped.
"Move over," she said. "Does this car have any tunes?" She flicked through the radio, eventually ending on the musical channel. "Oh my god I love this!" She grinned at Viktor. "Remember when we were kids, Dad took us to see this?"
"Yeah, yeah," he muttered, focusing on the drive.
"The performers were kind of shit," she said. "I would've done better than them. Should I get into acting? I think I'd be a great actor."
"Sure," he muttered, turning back to their house. "Quinn, are you sure you haven't had anything?"
"No, and I'd be fine if I had!" She hissed.
"I'm trying to help you!" He shouted, his knuckles turning white from his grip on the steering wheel.
It was always him that had to sort this bullshit out. She wasn't an addict by any means. Quinn could give up anything easily but pick a completely new thing up just like that. The doctors have said it's due to the things she sees.
Ever since Quinn was a child she could "see things". She'd been diagnosed with being schizophrenic but her symptoms barely matched with actual people suffering from the condition.
They drove up to the house eventually and he led her back inside. They were quick to find a shaken Ronan sitting alone on the couch, quivering in fear.
"Whats wrong with you?" Viktor sighed, running his hand through his hair.
Ronan looked up, finally realising they'd arrived. "Where the fuck were you two?!"
"Getting chased by the Swedish," Quinn murmured.
"What?" Ronan huffed.
"That's what Viktor said," Quinn pointed out.
"I didn't…" He only said that in his head. "I was out investigating. I think my case might be tied to—."
"I don't give a fuck!" Ronan shrieked. "I saw a talking cat! Earlier today at work. It just… it fucking spoke to me! Am I going insane?! What the fuck is happening!?"
"Ronan, calm down," Viktor tried.
"I will not calm down," he chattered. "A cat spoke perfect English to me!"
"I thought they only spoke Spanish?" Quinn questioned. They ignored her. She sighed, rolling onto the couch.
"So we're almost killed by some freakish deer man, our sister blasted it away with her mind but you're only focused on a fucking cat!?" Viktor shouted.
"It spoke!"
"So you've told us!"
"Don't you think the deer man sounds like the one from dad's story?" Quinn finally spoke. The two paused before they turned and looked at her in confusion.
"What?" Ronan asked.
"The deer man," she said. "He sounds like Arkanon, The Heart Drinker from Dad's book."
"What're you talking about?" Viktor questioned.
"Shouldn't you know this, Viktor?" Quinn questioned, not bothering to sit up from the couch. "Weren't the two of you besties?" She paused. "Arkanon the Heart Drinker."
"The more you say it," Viktor sighed. "Isn't going to help us."
"Where's Olga?" Ronan questioned. "I bet she knows."
"Olga!" Quinn screamed. The poor old woman ran in with a worried look.
"What is it?" She shrieked before taking in a gulp of air, trying to catch her breath. "Are you all alright?"
"We're fine, Olga," Viktor sighed.
"Forgive me for assuming not," she spoke with a voice laced full of sarcasm. "But when I see the living room completely ruined and all three of you away for hours I get worried."
That's right. They'd forgotten to make an excuse before they'd all left. The maids probably assumed Quinn had gone mental again and had another manic episode. They could explain all that later.
"We're so sorry," Viktor apologised. "We've been…" He needed a good excuse. "Searching for Dad's old journal. I was wondering if you knew where it was?"
Olga frowned. "His journal?"
"The one he'd read to us," Ronan supplied. "When we were kids?"
Her eyes lit in realisation. "Ohh… I'm terribly sorry but I have no idea where your father keeps his things. He's always been a rather secretive man. Up in his office alone."
"Can we look in the office then?" Quinn asked her, jumping up rather excitedly at the thought of possibly finding some cash hidden in the room.
"Certainly not!" Olga gasped. "That was his private room. I promised him I'd never let anyone trespass."
"Come on!" Quinn begged. "He's dead now, so it's not like he's paying you to keep your mouth shut anymore."
"Quincy!" Ronan scolded, using her full name.
"I forbid any of you from going up there," Olga ordered. "Final word." She huffed before storming out the room, slamming the door shut.
"Was she always this bad tempered?" Quinn snorted.
"I doubt you helped with your comments," Ronan commented.
"What? I was just being honest!"
"Enough!" Viktor scolded the two younger siblings before lowering his voice. "If she doesn't want us to go in Dad's office, then we won't go in Dad's office. Are we clear?"
They nodded sheepishly.
"Good."
But the three of them knew they'd be making a short trip to the office tonight.