The Eccentric Eyed Boy

by ari0313

Summary:

Victor has always been able to see spirts from a young age. His mother always says it’s a gift. While his father believes otherwise “an embarrassment” his father would say. Victor has always seen “his gift” as a burden as he tries to ignore the spirts. He’s interacted with them before and nothing ever good comes from it but burdens he wishes not to carry. Escpically now that his own mother is sick. In debt he chooses to listens to a friends advice about summon demons to make deals. He truly didn’t belive it would work until a “radio demon” appears before him once summoned apparently a very powerful demon intrested in Victors power.

Human au where Victor (aka Vox ;) ) summons a radio demon to heal his mother. Chaos
happens

Notes:

Tw: physical abuse
Also for anyone confused Victor is human Vox if you skipped that small fact in the bio and Mary and frank are the name of his parents

Chapter 1

May 4th, 1924, Chicago Illinois 

 “Victor,” the voice above him said quietly, disorienting.

“Victor,” a chill ran down his spine, Mind begging for him to get up and to follow the command of the strict voice above him. But his body craved the few extra minutes of sleep he wished would be blessed upon him, Escpically having stayed up practically the whole night before.

“DAMN IT, boy, I said get up.” This time he was more roughly shaken, startling him awake. He fully could see the figure above him, dark hair resembling his own. Piercing blue eyes stared back at him. “Let’s get going up now, boy; we have church to get to, and you know your mother doesn’t like to be late. It’s the least she’s owed,” his father says, turning and putting the lights on as he leaves no room to fall asleep now.

 As Victor goes to grab his clothes set out for him. An older woman stands behind him looming presence, a negative energy that makes Victor's core shake. It’s not real; it’s a figment of my imagination. She’s not real; she’s a figment of my imagination. She’s not real; she’s a figment of my imagination. Victor chants to himself, taking a collective breath as he quickly walks past the spirit, heading to the bathroom to change; instead, his bedroom door closes harshly behind him. He didn’t close the door.

 As he shuts the bathroom door, he goes through the typical morning routine. He washed his face and thoroughly brushed his teeth. He combs his hair back and puts on deodorant, quickly spraying some cologne, changes his clothes, and rushes downstairs, where his father and mother are waiting. “Come here, boy,” his father says, and he nervously approaches, but his father’s mood must be good as he chooses to fix his tie, still mumbling complaints that he ought to have a daughter with how long his son takes to get ready. To which Victor just nervously chuckles.

 Church was draining as always, but it makes his mother happy, and lately she’s been feeling ill. So in turn, Victor's been doing more for her that he would typically complain about, worried about her health. He never really cared for going to church; he was often judged for having miscolored eyes by the kids who weren’t used to the oddity. When he was a child, he would boast about seeing spirits, making it a hobby to talk to mothers from the church who had deceased parents and wanted closure. He would get money out of the exchange, of course; it was good until his mother scolded him for taking advantage of people’s grief.

  Eventually he stopped, and that’s when things took a turn. The spirits always wanted something, rather that be closure or vengeance, and when Victor began to ignore them, having been told to by his mother, they began to be cruel. Screaming so he couldn’t sleep at night, throwing things, lights flickering, doing everything to get his attention. Eventually the spirits got worn out. The spirits assumed that he could not see them anymore and eventually stopped.

 

 

 

 

 

 

June 11th,1926, Rosemont Illinois

 That’s when Victor discovered vengeful spirts. His father had gotten a new job and in doing so the family had moved into a nicer neighborhood. Victor had been 10 at the time and as soon as he entered the house he immediately felt a heavy weight being pressed down onto his chest. The slight tormenting that the previous spirts had down to get his attention were nothing compared to the hatred and evilness that this spirt inside his new house had. This spirt wanted them out of his house and he didn’t care if he had to be violent to prove it.

  Victor would scream waken up from night terrors and have bruises alongside his rib cage. He would cry in his mother’s arms. Which would lead to arguments between his mother and father. His mother who believed he had the gift to see spirts. His mother who would fight as her child feel ill from countless night forcing himself to stay up refusing to have the nightmares that overtook and the unbearing pain that came with it. She couldn’t bare to see her child go though this and that is why she wanted to move back not putting her baby through this torment.

 His father on the other hand refused to belive it. 

 “He’s a child Mary children get bruises if you didn’t have him convinced of this make believe nonsense he would never be having these nightmares in the first place”.

 “Are you saying it’s my fault. You think I’ve placed these bruises upon my own son? You think I’ve told him stories to where he’s up screaming every night and in turn making it so I've lost my own sleep. Miserable due to my child’s suffering. You know this isn’t right Frank. My baby, My poor baby” his mother wailed cradling him as he shook in his mother’s arm.

 Suddenly he was snatched by the hand to look upon his father’s fury. 

 “Enough of this nonsense. You see spirts boy huh? Show me then, Go on show me where this ghost is boy”  his father scream pushing him forward to show him the ghost. “Go on show me then”

 “Frank enough of this stop” his mother wailed but that didn’t stop his father from shoving him forward.

 “Go on boy show me, You think this house is not good enough for you after I worked my ass” his belt unbuckled as he took it off to strike Victor who screamed in pain as it stroked. “Go on then boy show me. If not you’ll receive the punishment again so help me”. Victor stumbled to his feet shakily going to where he knew the spirt liked to linger.

 Victors father opened the door to where he pointed stood behind his dad still a sense a protection he felt behind his father. 

 “YOU KILLed HeRrr” the spirt shouted as he stared at Victor. A females body the ghost cradled her neck snapped in an odd angle as her mouth hung open Victor shook behind his father. 

 “There’s nothing here” his father said as he turned the lights on looking around the room or he tried but Victors grip remained strong. 

 “He’s right there you don’t see him” he pointed as his mother looked concerned.

 “YOU KILLED HER YOU KILLED HER YOU KILLED HER” the ghost screamed over and over and over Victor covering his ears as his father began to drag him to where the ghost screamt he didn’t realize it was him who was screaming now crying. 

 “Please dad please don’t take me by him he’ll kill me. He doesn’t want us here he thinks I killed her I’m scared I’m scared IM SCARED” his dad stood front of the ghost as he knealt down grabbing his sons shoulders harshly.

“Look at me boy. There is nothing here it’s not real it’s all in your head you hear me ENOUGH” the ghost became erily silent as he was now inches from his face. Perhaps his dad was right even if the ghost was real he couldn’t harm him. Perhaps it would be fine if he simply ignored him. Just as Victor convinced himself it would all be ok the lights blew. A heavy weight was upon his chest and

 Victor passed out as the screams began again. 

Notes:

Yayyyyy first chapter posted im excited about this one also just a heads up everyone radiostatic comes much later in the fic this is a slow burn about how they met and how it correlates to their meeting in hell. Anyways hope you enjoy!

Chapter 2

 August 3rd, 1932, Rosemont Illinois

 As the years past due to his fathers stubbornness. He refused to move his family forcing Victor to adapt. As he grew older he begin to desensitize to his living scenario. It did also help that his mother forced his father to put him through therapy. Although the therapist couldn’t diagnose him other than being psychotic the pills that they gave him to force him to sleep did help. The night terrors decreased and as he began to avoid the vengeful spirt more and more. The spirt soon began to realizes despite his many protest to get the family to leave. That they simply would not.

 His father ignoring incident after incident and his mother was lucky to avoid his fury. Perhaps the spirt sympathizes for his mother as the years passed she also began to become very ill her common “cold” they would later find out to be cancer.

 His mother forever the fighter refused to let this infection take her down. Going about her day to day life as it were nothing. Making Victor have to be more wary about his mothers doing keeping a watchful eye out for her to make sure she wasn’t doing anything the doctors advised her not to. “I’m fine honey don’t you have school you should be getting to right about now”. His mother scolded but forever the stubborn one that he was (getting it from said mother he refused to back down).

  “You shouldn’t be lifting this heavy stuff mom and I can spare a few minutes you know we’re close to school I can walk and my grades are good”.

 “And if they drop”? His mother hummed in amusement as he rearranged the last few heavy boxes of storages she attempted to put up.

 “They won’t mom” 

 “Victor honey your 16 now you don’t have to take on my burden honey I told you I refuses to let this sickness win” she says cradling his face as he stepped down from the ladder placing soft kisses upon his cheek. “You and your father have been so good to me. And it’s such a relief to me that the evil spirt has vanished and leave my poor baby alone.” She smiles as she repeats the only lie he choosen to tell his mother. He smiles softly back at the only person who truly believed Victor for who he was and loved him even more for it.

 “Alright mom I’m off take your meds I’ll see you tonight” Victor says taking off for school offering his mother a short wave as he closes the door behind him.

 

 

 

 

 Victor had a learn from a young age that if you tell kids you can see spirts chances are they wouldn’t be willing to be friends with you. So as he moved into his new house automatically moving into a diffrent school district he got to change this part of himself or rather keep it to himself as he did everything else.

 Now this isn’t to say he didn’t get bullied. Unfortunately having different colored eyes was still an oddity to which he would get made fun of for. But atleast the bullying was less. And he was able to make two friends despite his oddity. “He was attractive enough” said his friend Veronica. But in all actuality Veronica had a temper. A temper that often had her shun from the other kids she usually would buy them off and that would work fine and dandy until one day she came across Victor quite and to himself. He had bumped into her invoking her fury. But instead of running off in fear like most kids her age did he simply laughed, apologized and went about his day.

 That’s how Veronica became intrested in hanging out with him. She started sitting with him at lunch and she found him to be quite the good listener. When she would argue her point if she felt she was right Victor would often times disagree with her throwing a few snarky comments here and there that would make her genuinely laugh. She hasn’t done that in a long time. And it felt nice to be seen. To not have to buy her forgiveness and face the consequences when Victor was mad and choose not to talk to her to her for a few days. 

 This provoke anxiety as Veronica never had a genuine friend before. She hung out with her previous posse but it never was the same. She could feel the fakeness of it all which is why when Victor came to speak to her “privately” she was quick to her feet embarrassing as it was because damnit she missed her friend.

  “I just needed a few days to cool down” Victor says simple. And just like that the argument was long forgotten and they went back to gossiping as usual. Eventually there was a new face who joined their group a boy from Spain by the name of Vincent who Victor assumed joined their group to get close to Veronica “a crush” perhaps? Vincent and Veronica could talk about clothes for days. Vincent from a place where fashion determined popularity. And Veronica former popular rich girl who loved bragging about any expensive “fashionable brand” she could get a hold of.

 Victor honestly for the life of him couldn’t figure out why the two of them choose to be friends with him. A simple catholic boy who got by just fine but was no where near their status. They could go off and do great things and have plenty of friends by themselves. But for some odd reason the two of them choose to sit and have lunch with him everyday. Involving him in conversations time and time again even when he didn’t understand most of it. He wouldn’t complain though. Being able to have friends and to feel somewhat normal despite his predicament made him more determined to convince himself that the pills prescribed would “cure him of his illness” just like his father would say.

 Lost in thought he didn’t notice Veronica was speaking to him until he got a nudged a bit harshly on the shoulder. “Did you hear me Vic”. He shook his head no because unfortunately he was lost in thought. Veronica didn’t look to upset by this so that was a good thing. “ I said we should think of a posse name like the other groups”.

 Victor tilted his head confused at this and this time she groaned Vincent taking time to speak wrapping an arm around his shoulder he’s always been touchy.

  “Think of it like this Chico bonito over there” Vincent turnt his head to a group of boys most of them wore glasses or had their heads in book.  “Those are the geeks or prededors”. Victor nodded as he was faced in another direction.  “Over there” Veronicas old squad down to two one one busty blonde hair the other dark red that hung down to her shoulders both sitting next to their own respective jock giggling with no self respect as they clung closely “broke putas”.

 “Hey” Veronica yelled only earning a giggle from Vincent. 

 “Face it mami without you they can only survive on their looks because their brains sure wouldn’t get them anywhere” Vincent says and Veronica couldn’t argue. Veronica got her popularity by being wealthy and being the principles daughter. In turn her posse grew popular through her. Now that Veronica choose to sit else where. Her former friend only chances at keeping status was to cling to Jocks and flaunt their looks. 
 
 “I just wish they knew that they didn’t have to kiss ass all the time to get by it’s honestly pathetic yea. Another reason why I refused to hang out with them anymore” Vincent nodded in agreement before turning his attention back to Victor looking out to a group of three more.

 “This group aka “the slackers” go around purposely terrorized the teachers to get a name for themselves”. They also claimed as they grow older they would never have respect for authority. Even Victors former bullies who stoped once Veronica started coming around. Didn’t mess with said group. Due to the last person who did being transferred no one knowing what happened to him other then the rumors that speculate. 

 “So you see Vic everyone has a group and only the ones who want to be remembered have a group name. We’re already popular by being dressed way better than any of those loser. Your strangely good looks that keeps the group mysterious because you keep to your self. But yet there is a goal to see who can date you”

 “Wait what” this was news to Victor but it went ignore as Vincent continued. 

 “And Veronica suddenly taking interest in only this group being wealthy and pretty making people even more curious about us. Now we have to take the school by hold and have a name that no one will forget”.  There was a tense silence as everyone began to try and think of a name that would fit the group as a whole and the suddenly Victor spoke up.

 “What about the Vees” this got both of his friends attention. “I mean because all our names start with Vee so it would make sense” Victor rambled now blushing as both eyes were glued to him before his two friends began to smile.

 Vincent who already had Victor in a hold now grabbed held of Veronica forming a group hug of sorts “The vees how brilliant what do you think vee”. Vincent grinned up to Veronica who rolled her eyes but nodding in agreement. 

  Little did Victor know “The Vees” would not only be important in his current life but also his after. 

Notes:

Ok so I know what you’re thinking. But no Vincent and Veronica are not the Vees you’re thinking of. But it will all correlate No they are not Velvette and Valentino. But it will all piece together somehow. And no I’m not saying how stay tuned ;) Also sorry if it’s confusing I know Vincent is another name used for Vox but in this story it’s Victor ;).

Chapter 3

 As the days go by, Victor's mother is getting sicker. Although she refuses to admit to it. As a result, Victor has missed school for the last couple of days to take care of his mom. Reminding him exactly how much he hated staying at home.

 For some specific reason, the spirit that resided in the house decided to loom near his mother. For some reason all that did was piss him off. Why now did this spirit choose to antagonize his mother when she was sick? When she was… He gritted his teeth as he glared at the looming presence that stood over his mom, who was currently washing the vegetables for dinner.  “Stop it,” he gritted out to the ghost, choosing to glare at it, attempting to provoke its attention. But instead he got his mother’s.

 “What was that, honey?” Victor’s mother said, now turning to look at him. 

 “I said stop it; let me wash the vegetables instead,” he says, moving his mother as he took on the role of the vegetable. His mother chuckled, getting a pot of water and setting it on the stove.

 “Victor, honey, you can’t skip school forever, hon. Look, I’m up and fine cooking dinner.”

 “You fainted the other day,” Victor argues, earning a swat with the spoon for shouting. He winces but continues his onslaught. “I don’t understand why Dad can’t stay home knowing you’re so sick.”

 “You know your father has to pay off the mortgage to the house.”

 “I’d rather not live here at all.” He muttered under his breath but his mother always had super hearing. 

 “This again?” His mother hummed, putting the noodles into the pot now that the water had reached a boil, moving her son out of the way as he was mostly useless in the kitchen as she started chopping the vegetables.

 “I could’ve done that,” Victor grumbles, earning a chuckle from his mom. 

 “You know I got a call from some friends of yours asking if they could come over to drop off some assignments from the school.” Victor began to ponder how the two of them got his number, but considering Veronica’s dad was the principal, he figured she got it from the school, making him sigh in annoyance. 

 “And what did you tell them?” he says, knowing his mom all too well. 

 “Well, it seems as if they miss you, dear, so I told them they could stop by for dinner,” at which point Victor rolls his eyes. 

 “Of course you did,” he grumbles, not really in the mood to see his friends at the moment, too worried about his mom and wanting her to get more rest, but she’s always been stubborn.

 “None of that. Now go upstairs and get ready. I’ll prepare dinner.” Victor doesn’t necessarily want to leave his mother with the spirit, but it would cause suspicion if he were to argue. And from what he observed, the spirit hadn’t tried to cause any physical harm to his mother. It simply just loomed over her, so he quickly washed off. He figured she would be fine. He ran up the stairs, causing his mom to scold him, but he ignored it, not wanting her to be alone with that thing for too long. 

 

 

 Damn him for being overly hygienic. By the time he got downstairs, both Veronica and Vincent were in the kitchen with his mother. Veronica was on her phone while Vincent apparently took over dinner, lecturing his mother about the seasoning. Victor huffed in amusement. It looks like Vincent’s statement on knowing how to cook wasn’t false. This, however, didn’t stop his mother from ushering them to Victor’s room until dinner was done. Veronica handed him the assignments he missed, and the two of them began to fill him in on what he had missed, although the eeriness in his stomach did not disappear. 

 “So get this, you know how I tan easily during the summers?” Vincent says, and Victor nodded, partially listening. “Well, some racist pendajo called me a greaser.” 

 This got Victor’s attention. “Who was he? I’ll go down there myself and kick.”

 “Calm down, Vic. Veronica took care of it, put a pencil in his pecker, and somehow he’s the one who got suspended.” This earned a smile from that said girl as Victor’s mouth gaped open. 

 “How did you not get in trouble?” Victord, his voice filled with genuine shock.

 He was cut off. “I have my ways,” she says, smiling widely. Victor shook his head, shivering at the thought, but the asshole deserved it for having the simple audacity. 

 “Like, everyone knows my parents are white. They traveled to Spain, had me, and came back; otherwise, I would have never gotten into this privileged white elite school.” Vincent scoffs, wincing silently in reminder. “Sorry, Vee.” Vincent gave her an apoplectic smile, and she shook her head in dismissal. 

 “None taken. I know my dad’s a bigot; it’s how we came up in this world. It’s just a shame that’s how it has to be. I’ve never gotten why people act a certain way towards people of a different color, and I’m glad to have friends who think the same.” 

 Both boys look at her, slightly shocked by her passionate yet emotional speech. Usually if it didn’t involve talking about money or clothes, Veronica tended to stay out of any sort of debate topic, which is why it’s so surprising. And the fact that she has admitted she finds the two of them friends. Well, Victor must’ve died because that definitely wasn’t her M.O. 

 The two of them must have been staring for too long, as she turned to glare at them. “What?” she yelled a bit, and Victor, this time, was the one to speak. 

 “I—um—just agree with you, is all. I wasn’t expecting you to say something like that given your background.”  

Before Veronica could tear him a new one, his mother called the three of them down for dinner. As soon as he got downstairs, the sight before him made his heart drop in fear. As his mother was serving dinner, he rushed over to her, the spirit pulling her down, arms wrapped around her chest. Why was it touching her? Spirts typically mess with objects to gain attention.  Never has he seen a spirt make an attempt to touch the living. As he looked at the drained look on his mother’s face he quickly rushed up to her pulling her into his arms and out of the spirts grasp, making her gasp. “What are you doing?” She said a bit surprised by the sudden contact. 

 “Mom, are you ok? Did it hurt you? I knew I should have been down here. He’s been…” He was stopped by his mom grasping his face; the spirit had long vanished. And he took in the reality of his surroundings. His friends, who he hasn’t told his circumstances, were staring at him, confused about what was going on. 

 “Victor, honey, you’re shaking.” Dammit, Victor thought to himself; he blew it. His friends, That he took so long to make are going to think he was crazy. How could he get out of this situation? Think, Victor, THINK. He looked at his friends in hopes of explaining, only to see the spirit in the corner of his eyes smile as if mocking him before heading to the place it all started.

 “I just need a minute,” he said before storming off. His mother luckily began to distracted his friends with the food cooked. As Victor followed the spirit upstairs. Once he opened the room, expecting the same sight he’d grown accustomed to seeing, the spirit with his wife laying dead beneath him. But this time it wasn’t his wife lying dead on the floor. 

 It was his mother, cold, lifeless, and unmoving, and instead of screaming, the spirit above her laughed manically. And Victor, well, Victor screamed, running to his now dead mother, cradling her into his arms, sobbing out. There could be banging heard outside the door, but it was muffled by his cries. 

 Once the door opened, his mother, not the illusion the spirt casted. But his real yet still very sickly mother ran to him, cradling him as she did when he was a young boy. His friends rushed to his side, asking him what’s wrong. Before long the stress overtook him, making him eventually pass out. 

Chapter 4

 Victor, still partly asleep, woke up to the sound of silent shouting between his mother and father.

 “I felt it, Frank; when he pulled me into him, the weight on my chest immediately vanished. I felt as if I was going to.” 

 “GOING TO WHAT, MARY? Be serious. I knew the therapy bullshit was a waste of money. He’s still got you wrapped around his bullshit because of what? Because he doesn’t want to live here.” His father yelled, fully waking him up. 

 “I felt it. I knew my baby was suffering. He never lies to me, but because you refuse to believe him,” his mother’s voice cut off due to his father interrupting her again. 

 “SO IT’S MY FAULT bullshit Mary, and you know it, instead of worrying about his sick mother, he pulls this shit, and in front of the only friends the boy finally decides to make because you keep leading into this fantasy bullshit, if you never told him this shit was real, he would never have had the screws loose in the first place.” His father’s words stung.

 He knew that he was causing his sick mother stress as she cried in his defense, and now, when he finally was able to feel a sense of belonging, he screwed it up. Not being able to ignore the stupid spirit, he did it for years, but he just wasn’t able to ignore the fact that the spirit was intentionally targeting his mom. He didn’t want his mother to continue to deal with his father’s onslaught, so he chose now to began to speak up, hoping his father would calm down. 

 “Mom, Dad?” Before his father could spew another insult, his mother rushed to him. His mother’s immediate comfort usually made him cry, but his father’s glare told him it wasn’t smart to do so. “I’m ok, Mom, really.” 

 “No, you’re not, baby. Why didn’t you tell me the bad spirit was messing with you?” his mother said, his father mumbling under his breath, most likely that she was feeding into his bullshit again. And he really didn’t want to stress his mother out again; she was already worked up overexerting herself over him. Maybe he could lie his way out of this. 

 “I think it was just the meds, Mom. Made me see things; maybe it was just a side effect.” His mother's disappointed face made his heart ache, but he refused to keep putting her through this. His father was right. 

 “Well, you heard the boy, Mary. Wrong meds I’ll go with you tomorrow and talk to your therapist. Maybe we can get some money out of them for prescribing you the wrong pills.” His father smiled, patting him on the back. Once his mother was out of earshot, his father took him to a secluded corner to talk to him, making his heart race. Was he going to get punished? “Loosen up, boy; you’re not in trouble. I was just going to say I’m proud of you. Your mother doesn’t need the extra stress right now. You know that, right?” His father said sternly, and he nodded. 

 “You know you’ve always had such an imaginationnce you were a boy. When we talk to your therapist, we’ll tell her to up the dose a bit so that brain of yours doesn’t confuse you anymore,” his father says.

 “I don’t think I need to up the dose, Dad; the pills already make me feel sleepy.”

 “You sassing me, boy?” His father said his once friendly tone completely vanished.

 “No, sir, I just don’t want it to affect school, is all.” Victor says, thinking of a quick lie. As his father considered this argument thoughtfully, 

 “Alright, son. But if this happens again, we will be speaking to the doctor again, you understand.” Victor nodded quickly at this as his mother called him to come eat since his early outburst; he didn’t get to do so. Once finished with dinner, the only thought that came to mind was what he would tell his friends. Would they even want to talk to him after witnessing what they had? Or would they pass him off as insane? Maybe he could tell them the lie he told his mother. But he was so tired. Tired of having to hide the truth from everyone. Would his friends believe him if he told them the truth? Victor already had a great chance of losing them whether he told the lie or the truth, so he decided that he was going to tell his friends. Whether they chose to believe him or not was entirely up to them. 

 Victor got little sleep that night. 

Chapter 5

 “So what happened yesterday, ojos bonitos?” Vincent and Veronica sat down next to him at lunch as always. They weren’t ignoring him; this was good. This was great even. 

 This was it; this was the moment that would determine if they would stay in his life or not. His heart began to beat fast in his chest, and he began to have second thoughts. Should he tell them? Should he risk the only two friends that he had and be utterly alone again? He hated being alone. He liked being able to vent to Veronica about his father. Or talk to Vincent about his mother’s dishes as he ranted to him about how they could be enhanced, which often made him laugh, improving his foul moods. These two made him happy. They genuinely liked him for him and never once judged him for his unique appearance.

  And now he was going to tell them he could see ghosts. Yeah, right, who would believe that? Even his own father didn’t. His spiraling thoughts were interrupted by Veronica, the less emotional one of the group.

 “Listen, Vee, whatever you have going on. You can tell us where your friends whatever you throw at us, we’ve got your back.” Veronica spoke 

 “You really scared us when you passed out like that, Vic. Whatever you’re carrying, we’ll carry it with you. We’re the Vees, remember?” Vincent said, putting an encouraging hand on his shoulder. And Victor. Well, Victor, damn broke.

 He told his friends everything, how he was able to see spirits since a young age. How it was fun at first. Giving families closure and making a quick buck out of it. This made his friends laugh, although they were still in a state of shock. Then he released the heavyweight on his chest. Explaining that ever since his family moved to his house, there’s been a vengeful spirit who has it out to torment him. He states he’s not sure if the spirit wants him out of the house or is convinced Victor is the one who killed him and his wife. 

 Then he goes into detail about how for years he was able to ignore it. Although it slightly bothered him, the medicine helped. But now he’s not able to ignore it anymore because it’s starting to target his mother. “I feel like it’s draining her energy, and it’s going to continue to do so until…” he got choked up, knowing exactly what this evil spirit’s plan was. And this surprisingly got Veronica to put an arm around his shoulder, which he smiled softly in appreciation at as Vincent stood up, seemingly lost in thought. “You don’t have to believe me; I don’t expect it. Most people don’t,” Victor spoke softly, gaining Vincent’s attention. 

 “It’s not that, Vic; it’s just your story just opened a new world of possibilities for me. Perhaps my crazy brother was right.” Vincent said in all earnest, gaining confused looks from the two of his friends.

 “What are you talking about, Vincent?” Victor says, slightly exhausted from having to go into such details of secrets he’s kept hidden for years. Although tired, he is relieved that his friends accept his words so easily and are trying to provide him with comfort. 

 “Ok, so just hear me out, Vic. I might be able to help your situation out.”

“If you’re messing with me, Vincent, I swear to.” Victor glared at Vincent as he interrupted him; his voice held earnestness, so Victor was more reluctant to believe him.

 “No, Victor, I’m serious, so listen: my older brother got kicked out by my parents for doing some shady shit, right? Anyways, he was dead broke. Until one day he came back loaded, like I’m talking about limousine rich. So I asked him, right?  Like, “What the hell did you do to achieve this miracle?” And you want to know what he told me”. Both Victor and Veronica nodded, unsure how this story was in any way or form going to be a help to Victor. But continued to listen anyways. “He said he made a deal with a demon and then proceeded to show me how maybe you can do that exact thing to save your mom.” Vincent exclaimed excitedly, earning an eye roll from Victor.

 “Listen, Vic, you may not believe it, but just think about it: if these spirits and vengeful spirits are all real, who’s to say demons aren’t? Vincent says, rummaging for something in his backpack. “Look, all I’m saying is it’s worth a try. If it doesn’t work, oh well, but who’s to say it won’t work?” Vincent says, finally pulling out a paper, folding it up, and putting it inside Victor's backpack. 

 When Victor got home, his first objective was to throw away the stupid, made-up demon-summoning ritual. But as he pulled the paper out, he hesitated. What if it did work? What if it helped Mom? Victor shoved the paper in his backpack, thinking, What if?

Chapter 6

Summary:

If you wanna see what how I imagined Victor and Alastor to look like go check out my twt I pinned the drawing it’s not the best but whatever rough sketch.
https://x.com/ariii5500?s=21

 As weeks progressed, his mother’s illness continued to worsen to where she had to be hospitalized. Despite his mother’s protest, she was fine. Even hisr, whom he had seen little emotion out of, showed signs of concern. He began to work more, having to pay the increased bill the hospital was giving him due to her stay. And having the house by himself made him feel eerily sick. Especially considering the spirit hasn’t shown its face since the day of his mother’s hospitalization, which didn’t ease Victor’s nerves.

 Today was the day his father promised to let him visit his mother. Which he hasn’t gotten to do since her hospitalization. His mother was wary for him to come, not wanting him to see her like this. But as he begged her to let him see her, letting her know he missed her and his worries wouldn’t go away unless she let him see her,. Well, eventually she caved.

 Victor didn’t know what to expect. But the same image he saw under the ghost that one day made him almost pass out until his father nudged him forward to enter, making him regain his senses. His once full-of-life mother was pale, almost lifelessly so, and as she stared up at him, offering him a weak smile, the bags under her eyes were evident. He quickly walked up to her, sitting close, grasping herd, and giving it a quick kiss. “Hey, Mom.” He says softly at the small greeting he got in return.

 When Victor returned home, he was quick to rush upstairs to his room, shutting it behind him. His father, not questioning it, figuring his son was most likely upset to see his mother like that and too tired to offer him comfort, went to sleep himself. Back to Victor, who stares at the instructions to summon the demon before him. 

 “This is stupid,” he muttered to himself as he placed it next to him, glaring at him. Before finally deciding, he'd rather at least try and do something to help his mother’s case. Then nothing at all. He began to read the instructions before him carefully. 

 

•  Require the blood of an innocent 

• Use blood to draw a pentagram. 

• Chant what you're willing to offer to your summoning in turn to be rewarded. 

• Whatever is offered to the demon once the deal is sealed, you will perish if the end of the deal is not healed.

• Do not tell anyone about said deal or suffer consequences.  

 

 Once he read the list, he shook his head at the simplicity of it all. Not telling his friends would probably be hard, but he’s lied to them before. “Why am I convincing myself this will work?” Victor said to himself, rummaging his hands through his hair. “Whatever, let’s do this.” Victor figured his blood would work, considering he himself hadn’t committed any serious sins like murder. As well as he was still a virgin, and that is something Catholics usually considered “innocent.” He blushed embarrassingly, hoping he wouldn’t be any type of sacrifice if this did work. 

 He went downstairs quickly, grabbing one of his father’s pocket knives before going back to his room, locking the door once more, facing his palm upwards, and cutting a deep scar in his palm. He dipped his finger in the cut, tracing a pentagram into his luckily wooden floor. He was glad he paid attention in history; otherwise, he probably would have no idea what a pentagram looked like. Score 1, Victor. Once drawn, his adrenaline was beginning to wear down, and the bloodlust was beginning to make him dizzy, so he quickly grabbed an old shirt, wrapping it around his palm. 

 “Alright where were we” he grabbed the list with his uninjured hand and began to read the third step. “Chant what you’re willing to offer.” He Grimmaced thinking “listen here oh demon I’m willing to give you anything apart from my soul” because his mother would kill him catholic women were terrifying sometimes anyways back to the chant. “I grant you access to anything but my soul in term I need my mother’s health to be healed”. Do I have to keep repeated this Victor thought to himself before repeating his chant three more time. 

 He waited for about 30 minutes, realizing his fate once seemingly nothing happened. “I knew this wouldn’t work,” Victor says, throwing the list and himself onto his bed as well. Slowly the list fell right in the middle of the pentagram. Unbeknownst to Victor, the list began to flood in blood, disappearing the pentagram, swallowing it whole. Victor’s eyes slowly began to drift to sleep as an old radio that he kept hidden in his closet, not wanting to hurt his dad’s feelings for the gift that did not hold his interest. The radio, which hadn’t been turned on in years, static grew louder and louder to where Victor had to cover his ears, not wanting his eardrums to pop. Before everything turned silent.

 Victor stood up slowly, heading to the closet where the old radio lay. As Victor slowly opened the door, he sighed in relief as nothing was in the closet. He slowly began to turn around, stumbling back as a man dressed in all red curly red hair and blood-red eyes to match, stared in interest at him. He hovered over Victor, a tall 7-foot-tall man; it was honestly horrifying. Victor found himself able to speak. This is the first creature he’s ever seen that didn’t resemble a human. Finally it spoke, its voice filtered like a rambling radio show host.

“Well, hello, good fellow; it appears you’re in need of my assistance,” he says, smile unwavering as he speaks.  
 
Victor stared a few moments in silence, then his smile resembled the demon in front of him in pure fascination. “You can talk. Wait, can you understand me?” Victor said, eagerness laced in his tone, as the creature huffed in amusement.

 “I don’t see why you wouldn’t. You are the one who called me down here, did you not? How else would I fulfill my end of the deal if we could not speak to one another?” The demon tilted his head, confused by the boy’s antics. Where had the previous fear gone?

 “Oh well, most of the spirits I see don’t usually speak back, so I figured it would be the same way with demons. Wow, you're really tall. Are all demons like you? Why are you red all over? Did you choose to be like that? And why do you sound like that? It’s like you’re the old radio show host my dad always plays. I never understood.” He was cut off as the demon before him spun him around.

“My, my, full of questions, aren’t we? How about we start off with what we would like to be addressed by? And we can go into our deal. I'd rather not be here longer than I need to be,” the red demon in front of him said, tsking.

“My name is Victor, and do you always have to smile like that? It’s a bit creepy.” Victor says, and the demon's eye twitches annoyed, but his smile remains.

“The radio demon at your service, but for you, my dear pal, you can call me Alastor. A pleasure,” he says, shaking Victor’s hand and then continuing. “As far as my smile, it’s a showman’s greatest attribute. You’d do good to not be without one, you know. Now going back to the many words you spoke, you said you’re able to see spirits. Is this correc”t? Alastor says, clear amusement in his eyes, and Victor nods, still unsure why he feels no fear for the demon in front of him. “Interesting; that might be the reason you were able to summon a powerful demon such as myself.” 

 Victor rolled his eyes at the demons' boasting, finally deciding that now would be as good a time as ever to get serious. “So you’ll be able to heal my mom, Mr. Radio Demon, uh, sir.” Victor didn’t know it was possible, but the demon before him smiled wider, if not more sinister, as he stepped out, palm raised. 

“Only for a fair deal, of course.” 

 “I’m not selling you my soul,” Victor says sternly, and Alastor chuckles in amusement. 

“Smart boy, but the stuff I will have you doing will have you damned anyways. Are you willing to make that sacrifice?” the demon hummed in mock consideration. 

 Victor took a moment to really consider his decision. He would be making a deal with a demon. Something that he’s been preached at not to do since the day he could understand it. Victor stared at the outstretched palm before him. His mother was his rock, the person who would believe him and defend him for anything. His mother, who spent countless nights comforting him when his fears drove him into fevers as well as unconsciousness. Without her, Victor honestly didn’t think he would want to live another day. Making this the easiest decision he would ever make, knowing if roles were reversed, his mom, the most Catholic person he knew, would definitely take this deal to save her son's life. 

 Which is why Victor took the outstretched palm with ease, shaking it as green light surrounded them, circling around their hands and certifying the deal. “It’s a pleasure doing business with you, Victor, a pleasure indeed.” And with that, the deal was sealed.

Notes:

Also please check out my drawing for this fic it took me all day to draw even tho it’s not the best😭 just copy my profile pic and open tag
https://x.com/ariii5500?s=21

Chapter 7

 As his mother’s health suddenly drastically improved enough to where she was able to be discharged and come home. Well, obviously, his mother, being the Catholic she is, happily accepted that her many prayers were answered. And Victor was happy to let her believe that as she peppered his face with kisses, his usually stone-cold father was taking his first day off in years. Preparing a feast for the three of them to celebrate his wife’s  recovery.

 Once the three of them had eaten, his father had drunk a couple of bottles of wine, “letting loose,” or so he would say. As he put on an older song that apparently he and his mother would apparently dance to when the two of them were still high school sweethearts. His father extended a hand to his mom, and the two of them began to dance and twirl in turn, making Victor giggle at their antics as his father dragged him in on the dancing, which he thought was impossible, but as the three of them spun, all he could do was laugh, his heart full with the sight of his mother full of life again.

 His thoughts ran short as he saw the radio demon at the bottom of the stairs peering in amusement. Victor excused himself from his parents, claiming tiredness. But they were too enraptured with one another to notice. It was nice seeing his parents like this, truly. So when he followed the demon to his room he knew what he was blessed with. He was nervous, maybe. Scared, But what kind of evil thing would bless him with such a thing? There was nothing to be scared of, Victor said to himself, trying to convince himself as he closed the door behind him.

 “It seems all is well within your family.” Alastor hummed in thought, eyes blaring scarcely red in the dark, to which in turn Victor turned the lights on to lessen the goosebumps that ran down his spine.

  “So is this a permanent thing, or do I have to worry about you taking this from me as soon as my end of the deal is done?” Victor says, Getting straight to business, earning an amused, unfiltered chuckle from the radio demon.

 “My, my, aren’t you the observant one. One would think you’ve made deals with demons for years.”

 “I’m just not a sucker.” Victor says clicking his tongue. 

 “It would appear so. Well, it’s simple as long as you continue to work for me. Your mother’s health will remain healthy and intact. I’ve always had a sort of soft spot for mothers. And yours often times than not, reminds me of my dear mama.” Victor’s eyes widened in surprise.

 “Why are you suddenly telling me this? I thought being closed off was your schtick, and job—what job?” 

 “The previous displays had me feeling a bit sentimental, is all,” Alastor hummed, stepping dangerously close to him, smile widening. “As far as the job goes, while we’ll have to use your power, of course, we can even start here at your very place of residence if you would like.” His eyes grew playful as if hunting prey.

 “What do you mean, use my powers?” Victor glared, unsure.

 “Well, my dear boy, starting off as a new overlord, souls are very important to me. And now that I’ve been pulled into this mess, I plan to use it to my benefit.” Alastor tutted, circling around him.

 “Stop speaking in riddles, old man. What is it exactly that you want me to do?” Victor's patience was beginning to run thin. Yes, he was grateful that, thanks to the said demon, his mother would remain healthy, but being a demon's errand boy was not something he was all too happy about.

  Alastor’s eyes widen, maybe slightly offended at being called old. But continued nonetheless, “As a demon I’m able to see the spirits but not capture their souls. Well, not without a deal, of course; that’s where you come in.” The door opened, and as Alastor walked out, Victor hesitantly followed him. Once brought to the room, he tended to avoid knowing the spirit was back. He gave Alastor a questioning look, but Alastor only ushered him in. The spirit, true to its nature, began to scream in anger, causing Alastor's eyes to narrow. “Enough of that now,” Alastor says as black tendrils come from within him, wrapping around the spirit and clogging its mouth shut. “Now let’s talk. Civil, You are aware this human is able to see you correct? But you insist on torturing him.” The tendrils squeezed the spirit tighter, causing it to groan. “Now if you weren’t so hell-bent on getting the boy to leave, you would’ve realized that he can help you finally be at rest. Now I get it you're angry. Tell us the reason, and we can help your heart ease for a price, of course”. Alastor dropped the spirit, who hit the floor harshly.

 Compared to Alastor, this spirit who’s been tormenting him since a child seemed… Weak? Victor was in awe as the spirit didn’t retaliate in anger as it usually did but glared and considered Alastor’s proposition thoughtfully. “The only way my soul would go to you, demon, is if I knew my wife’s killer was dead.” Victor's mouth gaped.

 “YOU CAN TALK.” Alastor only tilted his head at this, not comprehending what the spirit was saying. “You can’t understand him?” Victor asked as he looked at the radio demon in shock.

 “Well, that’s exactly what I need you for, my dear. You see, demons can’t exactly talk to spirits unless their fate is sealed with hell. Which is where you come in of course. If we can complete the task the spirit asks of us, I can set a deal that their soul goes to me in return.” The demon smiles with giddiness at the prospect.

 “Yeah, the thing is I’m not killing anyone,” Victor deadpanned. Causing Alastor to tilt his head in confusion.

  “Is that what the spirit asks for?” Victor nodded, and Alastor smiled, turning sinister and reminding Victor exactly who he was dealing with. A demon, a powerful one at that, most likely due to all the sin he committed. Most likely something like murder wasn’t something Alastor probably considered “a big deal,” but to Victor. He was raised to be Catholic, and murder was one of the biggest sins. Disappointing his mother after he just got her back was not something on Victor's to-do list. And sensing Victor's hesitation, the demon stepped closer to him, circling as if prey.

 “Did it specifically ask for you to kill anyone, my dear?” Victor shook his head, following the beast who circled him. “Well, then it’s settled. All I need you to give me the name of the person the spirit wants dead, and I’ll do it myself if that’ll ease your ire.”

 “I’d still be considered an Albibi,” he said, stepping back to look at Alastor more clearly.

“Well, look at it like this. You can continue your end of the deal, or,” he put a finger to his face in thought. “Let’s just say you’ll have to be worrying about another death really soon.”

 “You monster,” Victor spat out angrily.

 “Well, I’m in hell for a reason, now.” A palm was placed around his shoulder. “Let’s fulfill the deal. I need you to tell the spirit here if he releases his soul to the humble radio demon.” He pauses, and the static coming from the radio in his room could be heard from next door. “That his problem will be solved.” He then began to turn around, making his way out of the door. “Oh, and don’t forget, my pal, I need a full name. I have business to attend to, so I’ll catch you later.” And with that, Alastor vanished, leaving Victor to deal with the spirit by himself. Well, this was going to make for a long day. 

Chapter 8

 When Victor entered school the next day, he was excited to tell his friends the news about his mother’s health increasing. What he was not expecting when he walked into the lunchroom was a sobbing Vincent with a Veronica awkwardly comforting him. Most likely not used to doing so when she saw Victor's relief wash her face as she called out to him. “What’s wrong?” he asked, sitting next to his friends, whose eyes immediately widened.

 “Victor, thank God, please tell me you didn’t follow through with the list,” Vincent says, a look of exasperation coming across his face. Vincent thinks back; the list specifically said not to tell anyone about the deal made.

 “Why?” he decides to ask instead, not sure if revealing the truth was a smart decision. 

 This gets Vincent tearing up again as he tries to wipe the tears from falling. Victor places a comforting arm around him. “M-my brother, h-he,” Vincent sobs, overtaken as he covers his face, shaking. Both Veronica and Victor give each other a concerned look. 

 “What about your brother Vincent? What happened?” Victor says sternly, trying to assess what he may have to face in the near future if he wasn’t careful. 

 “He was violently murdered last night. Someone randomly shot him multiple times, and they said the guy didn’t even know him; he just did it for no reason.”  

“And you think this has something to do with the deal he made?” Victor asks, causing Vincent to get upset. 

 “What else could it be, Victor, please?” Vincent takes turns to show him frantic concern. “Please tell me you didn’t do that deal; I don’t know what I’d do if… if that happened.” 

 “I didn’t take the deal, don’t worry.” Victor lies now, knowing that the consequences of not following the rules were in full effect. Vincent’s brother had told him that he had made the deal with his demon, most likely the reason for his death. Vincent was determined not to make the same mistake. He decided his good news about his mother would have to wait; today he would comfort his friend.

 

 
 Knowing what the demon was capable of, Victor decided to get to work. He offered his mother a quick greeting. As she told him she would call him down when dinner was ready, he said he would quickly run up to the room he knew the spirit resided in. Taking a deep breath, he entered the room. Locking the door as his heart began to pick up in his chest. The spirit was nowhere to be seen, unfortunately. How exactly could he get a spirit's attention? He could call out to it. “Spirit, I’m here to speak to you,” he shouted, and when he still got no response, he felt stupid. “The one time I actually want to see you. You're nowhere to be found; what a load of crap,” he says as he goes to examine a desk in the room.

 Victor never typically explored this room due to the trauma it held for him. But for some odd reason, the fact that he had a powerful demon on his side gave him false confidence. The room had a queen-size bed and an old dresser and a rocking chair by the window; his mother decked it out to bring him more of a sense of peace, saying the only thing she kept was the dresser from the previous owner because it was “too good to throw out.”

 As Victor began to go through the old dresser, curiosity getting the better of him, the rocking chair began to rock. He ignored it, continuing his search. “Something you don’t want me to find,” he mumbled more to himself, the increasing rocking not easing his nerves. Most of the stuff was his mother's extra clothes, but when he got to the bottom of the drawer, he noticed a piece of wood was mismatched with the rest of the drawer. He picked at it until he realized that the wood was a cover-up to hide something within the drawer. Money, perhaps? Once he finally removed the mismatched wood, he realized underneath it held an old photograph. He studied it carefully. Clearly the photo was taken in the past based on how the couple was dressed and the state of the photograph. The younger male’s eyes were solely on the woman’s love, clear in his irises.

 “Don’t touch what doesn’t belong to you.” The spirit shouted directly behind him, causing Victor to jump and drop the photograph. The ghost snarled at him, and Victor gently set the photograph back where he found it, closing the dresser and putting his hands up in mock peace, surrendering. “What is it you want, boy?” The spirit spoke again, his appearance still silently frightening to Victor. It was clear the man before him was dead. But he put his fear aside, reminding himself he was doing all of this for a cause. His mother. 

 “I’m here to make a deal with you,” Victor says firmly, masking the fear evident as he stood up from where he once was, hands clenched; the sprite smirked at him, clearly amused. 

 “Making deals with devils, boy. Catholic boy like you—who would’ve thought? Won’t your poor mother be disappointed?” the spirit said, mocking, clearly hitting a nerve, but Victor refused to back down. 

 “The radio demon is offering you. Your chance to take the revenge you clearly weren’t able to take.” 

 “YOU KNOW NOTHING,” the spirit shouted, flinging Victor along the dresser. As he hit his head harshly against said dresser, he glared back at the ghost, stubbornly clutching his head. As his mother called up to him to check on him, he reassured her he was ok. 

 “I know that you clearly lost someone you love. Which is why you’ve been torturing me with the image for years. And I also know if I were in your shoes I’d do anything for the person I love,” Victor says, standing up once more. “Which is why I’m in the predicament I’m in now,” he smiles hesitantly, attempting to convince the spirit that they weren’t that much different.

 The spirit scoffs at him, “And how am I guaranteed that this demon will be able to get my revenge that my wife deserves?” Good, Victor thought. He considered that that’s all Victor needed to seal the deal. 

 “You’ve seen my mother’s complete health turn around. Which, by the way, I don’t appreciate you trying to take her under with you.” Victor glared but continued. “You really think someone incapable would have the power to do that? Think about it; it’s clear he’s powerful; otherwise, he wouldn’t have the powers to be able to restrain even you.” Victor's smile widened as the spirit before him really took in his words. “If you offer your soul to the radio demon, it’ll be guaranteed that your revenge will be handled so you can finally be at rest and stop torturing me and my family,” Victor says, extending a hand, hoping that his false confidence played in his favor because he knew if he didn’t hold his end of the deal, his life as well as his mother’s would be at stake. 

 The staring seemed endless, but when finally the ghost reached out, firmly grasping Victor’s hand, the green lights that once encircled him. Had encircled them both as the deal was finalized, the room began to become engulfed in smoke, and an all too tall and familiar figure stood next to him. “Well, that was quicker than I expected now then.” Alastor was now able to speak to the spirit since his soul belonged to him. “I will need a name, good sir, so I can fulfill my end of the deal.” 

 And as the spirit spoke the name, finalizing what exactly was bound to be done. Victor's heart dropped. He knew that name. 

Chapter 9

Notes:

I know in the 30s most people with Victors “condition” would not get the luxury of talk therapy but ice baths and asylums. Butttt it adds to the plot so just let me have this😭😩

 “Yes, I’d like to make an appointment, like now. It’s urgent, life or death,” Victor says, slightly out of breath. He asked his mother to drop him off at his therapist, knowing the demon he made a deal with was currently on the hunt for him. To his surprise, his therapist was currently walking out of his office unharmed and not in any state of shock, most likely not having encountered Alastor yet. “Dr. Parker!” Victor shouted, running to his therapist. Ignoring the disapproving look from the receptionist since he didn’t check in. “Can we do a quick appointment? I know you're on your way home, but I really need to talk to someone,” he says, trying to sound as desperate as he can so he can get the information needed out of his therapist.

 “Do you plan to stop me?” Alastor appears on the side of him, startling a yelp out of him, which his therapist looks at with concern before stepping to the side, letting Victor enter his office as Alastor follows close in step.

 “Let me figure this out; something doesn’t feel right; he has a wife and kids.” Victor says frantically, knowing speaking logic to a demon was probably pointless, yet Alastor hadn’t moved to kill his therapist, so that was a good sign. 

“Playing detective now, are we? Very well, you may ask your questions; either way, it won’t end well for your friend.”

 “If he turns out to be some heartless murderer, he’s all yours. But if he’s innocent, maybe I can convince the spirit.” This caused a crazed laugh to escape Alastor as Victor took his seat on the couch; his therapist sat across from him, taking out his notes.

 His therapist takes a moment before speaking. “So I noticed you were talking to yourself earlier. Are you seeing the “spirits” again?” He emphasized “spirits” since the therapist didn’t believe Victor’s ability to see ghost instead diagnosing him with schizophrenia since, in medical terms, it seemed more logical that the “spirts” Victor saw were hallucinations.

 What his therapist was not expecting was Victor to confront him on a long-kept secret. “I know that you’ve killed someone. That’s why I’m here; you’re in danger. I just want to know why you did it, Dr. Parker.” Victor states not wanting to waste any more time. His therapist pales a bit, not expecting the sudden accusation. Before clearing his throat and writing a few things down.

 “Now that’s a serious accusation, Vic. You’ve come up with this narrative because the hallucinations are clearly getting worse.” He hums, considering his options on what to do with Victor next, crossing his legs and bouncing one. “Clearly the medication isn’t enough. I’ll have to talk to your father about transferring you over to Haven’s Asylum.” He starts to stand to go to his phone and make the call, but Victor is quick to his feet, holding the phone down so the doctor would have to forcibly move him to make a call. “Victor—“ his therapist says in a warning tone. 

 “I know what you’re thinking, but this is serious. You killed an older couple in the address I’m currently staying in. I just want to know why you—." Victor startles as the therapist makes a grab for the phone, but Victor again moves it out of reach, holding it close to his chest. The doctor now has his back in the corner. Victor's heart races. 

 “I think I’ve had enough of your accusations. I’ll talk to your father, and I’ll even be nice and not press charges for harassment if you give me the phone and escort yourself out of my office.” His therapist inches impossibly closer. 

 “Just tell me why you did it, Parker. If you tell me the truth, I won’t tell the police.” 

 “ON WHAT EVIDENCE do you think anyone would believe you? You're insane.” The therapist shouts as he shoves Victor roughly into the door. His head is pounding, but as he sees the receptionist approaching, he locks the door, blocking the exit. 

 “Your life is in danger; just tell me why you did it, and I’ll—

 “You think you can put me in danger?” The therapist laughs. There is pounding heard at the door, and Victor suddenly finds himself lifted from his feet, hands tightly around his throat. “It’s such a shame. I mean it was clear you were crazy from my previous notes. But you came in here clearly not in the right state of mind and attacked me. I had to defend myself, you get it right, Victor?” The therapist asks, and a wicked smile appears on his face.

 Alastor appears again behind the therapist and sighs boredly. He gives it a few minutes, probably just because he’s a sadistic bastard and pain amuses him, before his tentacles wrap around the therapist, throwing him harshly against the wall as the lights flicker. “Well, do you still think he’s worth saving?” Alastor says amusedly as Victor gasps for air, glaring up at Alastor for taking so long. Alastor's tentacles squeezed his therapist, making it clear what his next intentions were before the demon heard a weak “wait” as Victor finally caught his breath. Alastor tsked at this before disappearing once more and reappearing, lying boredly on the couch. 

 “What the hell?” Dr. Parker stumbles up, still not able to see Alastor. He looks at Victor a bit frightened. “How did you?”

 “Like I said, your life is in danger, and right now I’m having a really hard time wanting to defend your case to the demon that wants to kill you right now.” Victor glares, and the pounding on the door has yet to stop. Still in slight disbelief but having experienced it firsthand, Dr. Parker nods. He then goes to open the door; one of the receptionists says she’s called the cops, and Dr. Parker quickly yells at her to dismiss the call, saying that the situation was handled. She timidly nods and scurries away, and Dr. Parker closes the door and gestures for Victor to take a seat. 

 “Why’d you do it?” Victor asks again, determined to get answers. 

 “I still can’t believe this. This shouldn’t be logically possible,” his therapist said, still stunned by the invisible assault that happened. “I thought you only were able to see spirits, but now you're telling me demons are real too? I need to start going to church more. My wife always tells me—.“ 

 “Dr. Parker, you’re getting off topic. Why did you do it?” 

 “I mean, I should’ve figured karma would bite me in the ass. I recognized the address, but there’s no way you possibly could’ve known. When you mentioned the older male spirit in previous sessions, I just thought it was a coincidence, but boy was I wrong.” He laughs at this, most likely in awe of it all, because honestly, “What are the chances, hah? “You want to know why I did it, kid? I’ll tell you why,” the therapist says, running a palm through his hair.

 “It was, honestly , stupid, really. Me and a friend of mine planned on stealing some jewelry from the old man’s wife; she always wore so much of it, so we knew she had it. We had it all planned out. My friend was the lookout, and they were always gone on Saturdays anyways, visiting their daughter.” He shakes his head, still an unnerving smile on his face. “I really didn’t  plan on them coming back home. I panicked. I—” he stills a bit, “then the old man came in, and I was already too far gone in it, so I wrestled him for a while before getting the upper hand.” His therapist looks slightly relieved that he could finally tell this story; the guilt that was eating him away was somewhat relieved. 

 “You violently killed two people for a bit of jewelry.” Victor looks at his therapist with disgust. The man he confided in. The man he had hoped would have the answers to his “illness” was nothing but a lowlife liar who killed people for petty jewelry. Victor's hands clenched as he stared at the figure across from him. 

 “I was hard up on money, kid; you wouldn’t understand.” His therapist had the nerve to look at him in sympathy. As if he didn’t kill two people in cold blood and try to attempt to kill Victor. 

 “Did you kill any more people after them?” Victor asks, and his therapist shakes his head. 

 “Of course I haven’t, Victor. I met my wife, and I turned my whole life around. I didn’t need to depend on petty theft to survive. You have to believe me, kid.” And for a moment, Victor truly did. His therapist, despite his slight lack of remorse, did change his life around. Although Victor did take in account if Alastor had not been there, his therapist would have killed Victor just so his past wouldn’t haunt him again. Did people like that really deserve to live? The sudden thought scared him. When did he start to think like this? 

 Before Victor could get too lost in thought, a receptionist entered. Victor looked to Doctor Parker, wondering why he wasn’t escorting her out of their very private conversation, when he noticed Doctor Parker didn’t notice her. 

 She was a spirit. Victor's body trembled in rage. 

 He asked again. “Dr. Parker, did you kill anyone else?” The spirit loomed over him seductively before Dr. Parker began to spew lies again. As he denied the accusation once more, the female spirit screamed. Before her mouth opened, she flew against the door in the same position Victor was previously in. No sounds came out. Victor noticed handprints around her throat. His therapist questioned what he was looking at, a slight hint of nervousness in his tone as Victor spoke once more. “Why did you strangle your receptionist, Dr. Parker?” 

 Dr. Parker was quick to his feet and quick to make excuses. “That was also an accident.” 

 “And that’s why you strangled her.” Victor spit out tired of his excuses.

 “SHE WAS GOING TO TELL MY WIFE,” his therapist shouted, surprising even himself as he dug himself further into the hole. “Look, Victor, you wouldn’t understand because you’re a child, but sometimes people make mistakes, and” his voice was muffled as Alastor appeared suddenly next to him, smiling in interest at the scene before him. 

 “So what will you do?” The demon next to him asks, and Victor looks to him to avoid the pathetic display currently in front of him.

 “And that fucking bitch, she was going to tell my wife and ruin everything I worked hard to achieve,” Victor finally spoke, cutting off his therapist’s rambling. 

 “Do you have a phone nearby, Dr. Parker?” Victor asks as the therapist wipes the fake tears from his eyes, nodding frantically.

 “Yes, it’s on my desk, but I don’t see what that has to do with anything.” His therapist spoke not noticing the change sudden ambiance the air now held as Victor cut him off.  

 “You should probably call your family up and tell them how much you love them.” 

 “Wait, you can’t mean—“ The doctor’s eyes dilate in fear as he grasps Victor’s word. 

 “For once in your life, don’t be selfish, Dr. Parker; leave them with something positive to look at. Eventually, they’ll find out what you really are, and it’s the least you can do.” Victor stands to leave. Again, his therapist goes to make a selfish decision. But Alastor's tendrilings wrap around him once more, placing him on the chair of his desk. “What's your family's dial? Unless you don’t want to say any last words.” Tears stream down the doctor's face, but he reluctantly tells Victor.

 Victor goes to leave. The doctor speaks to his wife, and nothing seems out of the sort. Until he hears shouts from the receptionist who tried calling the cops on him earlier. 

 Dr. Parker has died from a heart attack. 

Notes:

As the story continues Victors ability to stay sane decreases :)

Chapter 10

Notes:

I wanted to post this for my radiostatic bestieee Courtney although this isn’t one of my favorites chapters I firgure I post for her birthday❤️💙 also I rushed to post this so the editing might not be good until later lol

When Victor arrives home, his mother is quick to inquire about the marks around his neck. He didn’t feel like going into detail about how his therapist is the reason why he has them.But it doesn’t seem to matter as the police show up shortly after to question him. He tells the officers that he and his therapist did get into an altercation due to a difference of opinion, but he left shortly after. They had no evidence to prove his statement false also later on a witness testified that they saw him leaving after his therapist had died. So the case the police thought they had was quickly closed. 

 Once the police were gone however his mother was quick to question him on what happened. He lied, of course. And sensing his tiredness, his mother chooses to believe his lie for now, grabbing an ointment for him to put on his bruises and sending him off to bed. He noticed the air of his house had a clear aura to it, then quickly remembered the spirit. Curiosity getting the better of him, he went to check in the room where the spirit usually resided only to find Alastor instead. “Looking for something?” Alastor smiled at him, bemused.

 “Where’s the ghost?” Victor says surveying the room.

 “Don’t worry about that for now, dear boy. You’ve had a long day. Why don’t you get some rest, and we can discuss tomorrow’s plans?” Alastor says casually as Victor glares.

 “I thought we were done after this,” Victor says, annoyed. And Alastor again blatantly laughs in his face.

 “Of course not. What are two measly souls to an overlord? No, no, no, as long as you want your mother's health to remain intact, you're going to continue to help me collect souls.” Alastor says, pausing, “Now, of course, I can’t be in the earth realm all the time, but for the time I’m up here, I’ll conjure up a list of all the little vengeful spirits you can help while I work on the souls downstairs.”

 “You really are a demon,” Vox says, arms crossed. “But a deal’s a deal. I guess I’m not killing anyone for you, though.”

 “HA, such a virtuous boy. I don’t expect you to, besides killing is my favorite part.”

 “How can I contact you if you’re in hell? And how do you know the spirits are vengeful if you can’t speak to them?” Victor asks, curiosity always getting the better of him.

 “Always so full of questions,” Alastor chuckled. “I can’t speak to the ghost, but I can detect their negative energy, which means one of two things: they were murdered, or they were wronged, hence the negative signals they spread out. As far as communication, dear boy, here you are.” Alastor says, answering both questions and handing him a small device.

 “A small radio, how cliché? Victor says, eyeing the mini portable radio system. “Will the connection still work while you’re in hell, though?”

 “Why, of course, you turn the dial to this channel here.” Alastor says in demonstration, “And the signal connects to me specifically so I’ll be able to hear you.” Alastor says giddily, most likely happy to be bragging about the radio contraption.

“You’re really amused by radios; they’re kind of tacky to me, but I guess this is cool.”

 “Radio is never tacky, my dear boy. Radio is the future.”

 “Sure, if you stay stuck in the past.” Victor says he likes to rile up the radio demon before him for some reason; perhaps he should be a little bit more careful considering he is a psychopathic killer. “Anyways, when do you think you’ll have the list ready for me, and how exactly will I find all these ‘vengeful spirits’?” Alastor hums, circling around him; he always does this as if Victor were the most entertaining spectacle.

 “How curious. Yes, I’ll have a list by tomorrow. I’ll start off with a simple list of five, and as you complete each list, the numbers will grow.” Alastor’s smile widened. “Hopefully there will be fewer casualties. I would hate for you to die over what could be simple tasks.” Alastor says, taking Victor's chin to inspect his wound on his neck before taking a step back. “Well, I’ll be off until tomorrow.” And with that, the radio demon vanishes as Victor takes the time to head back to his room and collapse into his bed. For some reason he’s quite excited for tomorrow. Perhaps his adrenaline is still high from all the chaos of today. Instead of addressing it, Victor chooses to sleep.

 “You want me to sneak into the school tonight to talk to some vengeful science spirit?” Victor says annoyedly into the radio provided by Alastor. Who, according to him, couldn’t be here to help assist him in the deal, having some important business in hell to take care of? “And why does it have to be at night, huh? Do you know how inconvenient that’s going to be for me?” 

 “I’m sure you’ll figure something out. Now do get to it. I didn’t give you this means of communication to complain about the list; it’s for emergencies only.” Alastor tuts as Victor groans. 

 “Your list is stupid,” he complains to Alastor once more. 

 “Well, I hardly believe so. I’ve given you locations of where each spirit resides. All you have to do is get them into a deal, and I’ll handle the rest if need be,” Alastor says, pausing briefly. “Now, as I told you before,” a scream can be heard over the radio. “I have business to attend to, so don’t use this unless the deal is sealed or you find yourself dumbly putting your life at risk again.” 

 “Hey, me doing that got you what you wanted, demon.” Victor glares not believing Alastor was bold enough to critique him after everything.

 “I’m not complaining, dear boy, only an observation. Now I must go,” and with that the signal ends, giving Victor more time to observe the list.

1.  Science lab located at Roseland High School (spirit only appears at night)

2. Carston’s church 

3. Nighttime parlor (dangerous signal!!! Be wary (no time limit).

4. Camden's Diner (abandoned diner spirit very protective of location; be wary) 

5. Hynath Park (multiple children spirits; strong distaste for adults may be harder to convince) 

 “So the list gets more complicated as I complete it. Great,” Victor mutters to himself. He figured he’d talk to Veronica at school Monday since it was the weekend. He wasn’t exactly sure how he would, but for now he needed to convince his mother to let him stay at the school overnight. She’s always been passionate about him doing well in school; perhaps he could convince her it was an overnight project. He then suddenly realized that since meeting the demon, lying had become his new pastime. He never used to lie to his mother. Sighing as he heads downstairs to face her, he convinces himself it was all for a good cause in the end. He was helping people. As well as he was saving his mother.

 “Hey, Mom,” Vic says as he makes his way downstairs, leaning against the kitchen counter where his mom was currently wiping some stuff off the counter. She gave him a hum of acknowledgment; lately she’s been giving him the silent treatment. Most likely due to her own son’s invasiveness. “So I was wondering if this upcoming Friday I could stay after school to work on a science project.” He says as she goes to put the rag she was wiping with previously in the sink, she eyes him. 

 “This is the first time I’m hearing of a science project, and how long do you plan on staying?” She asks

 “Well, they just assigned it to us this week, and it’d be an overnight project. We got permission from the principal and everything,” he lied, trying to keep his composure. He would have to ask Veronica to get her father involved, making his case more believable. How would he do that? Well, that would be a problem for when he got to school; for now, his focus was solely on convincing his mother. To add icing on the cake, he added, “Please, Mom, Vincent and Veronica already got permission from their parents; I’m the only one.” That should work. Victor was honestly starting to scare himself with how easily he was able to lie. Again, this was all for his mother’s sake, or at least that’s what he was telling himself to feel better. 

 “I want to talk to Veronica’s father about this, of course, considering I’m assuming he’ll be at this overnight event as well.” She eyed him curiously and without missing a beat. 

 “Yea, of course I’ll try to get his number from Veronica on Monday.” He really was going to have to convince her. 

 “Alright, sweetie. I just want you to be safe, is all. With that whole fiasco with your therapist, you know I’ve been on edge.” 

 “Yeah, I know, Mom, but I told you I’m fine.” 

 “As you keep saying, but I’m your mother, and it’s my job to worry about you,” she says as she pinches his cheeks. He rolls his eyes but does not go to move her. “You know I love you, Victor; you can always tell me anything.” 
 
 He hesitates; it would be much easier if he could tell his mother everything. He hates hiding things from her. But he couldn’t risk losing the person that matters most to him, so he smiles and tells her there’s nothing to worry about. As he goes upstairs, he wonders to himself how exactly he is going to convince Veronica to follow through with this plan. 

Chapter 11

 As Victor entered school the next day, he came in with a plan. He had thought about it the whole night before. But as he explained his plan to Veronica, his previous confidence he had going into this began to dwindle simply by the look she was giving him. “So let me get this straight,” she says, crossing her arms, “you want me to lie to my dad that we’re going to stay the night here after school for a ‘science project’ she pauses “you do realize he’s the principle of this school if he talks to any of the teachers your make believe “science project” cover will be blowned”

 “Well, when you put it like that. You make it seem impossible, but this is the same person who got out of suspension after sticking a pencil into someone.” Victors stabs the air to lighten the mood but she only grimaces futher.

“Well, yeah, again, my dad’s the PRINCIPAL. I can get out whatever the hell I want,” she says as if it’s obvious. 

 “Exactly, that’s why I need you to do this for me and also have your dad talk to my mom so she believes me as well.” Victor says excitedly, as if he’s not asking for the impossible, and Veronica rolls her eyes.

 “So she’ll believe the lie you told.” Veronica eyes Victor a bit of amusement in her eyes at her friends ridiculousness. 

“Correct.” 

“All so you can talk to spirits?” She asks

“Yes, exactly.” 

 “Didn’t the last one give you a panic attack?” She says again, giving Victor a look as if he grew a second head. 
 
 “Yes, but that spirit was tormenting me for years and also threatened my mom. This one actually needs my help.” Victor explains as if that’s enough to make sense of it all, not realizing he sounds even more insane.

 “You do realize how crazy you sound right now.” Veronica states, pointing out the obvious, to which he simply groans.

 “Look, will you help me or not?” Victor says although he technically didn’t have the right to be annoyed right now considering the favors he was asking for. 

 “I wish Vincent was here to double-back me on this insanity,” Veronica says, sighing in annoyance as she goes to throw her food away. Vincent was currently not in school, having to prepare for his brother's funeral. 

 “Yeah, me too, but right now it’s me and you, Vee, and we have a spirit we need to help.”

 “If we’re doing this, we’re doing this full squad just in case you have an episode like last time.” Veronica says in thought, “I’m not telling my dad we’re spending the night at school. I’ll just use the house phone and have Vincent pretend to be Dad so you can come. As far as getting into the school goes, it’s not that hard to get my dad’s keys. I’ll just tell Daddy I’m spending the night at a friend’s house, and we can all meet at the school tomorrow around 8.” Veronica says, and her plan is granted was way better than Victor could ever think. He smiles big, going to hug her, but she’s always been weird about those. “Ah, ah, I don’t need your thanks; just remember you owe me big time.”

 “Ah, thanks, Vee; you’re the best. I’ll do anything; I really appreciate it.” Victor says skipping a bit as he follows her to his next class. 

 “Yeah, whatever. I’ll call Vincent when I get home and fill him in on tomorrow’s plans.” 

 “Are you sure you guys want to come? I mean, Vincent just went through a funeral, and I know spirits aren’t really your thing.” 

 “Yeah, but my best friend going into a crappy dark school to fight spirits by himself isn’t my thing either, so it is what it is,” Veronica says, finalizing that she’s coming as the bell rings, signaling that lunch is over. The two part ways. Victor really prefers to do this by himself, considering he has to make a deal with the spirit in order for this whole thing to work. Maybe he could get Veronica to give him the keys early so he could get to the school earlier. 

 As class droned on, Victor couldn’t be more excited to be home. His mother told him upon entering that she spoke to Veronica’s father, which he honestly was surprised that his friends were able to get that part of the plan done that fast. He would later find out that Vincent came over to Veronica’s after the funeral, so it was perfect timing. He thanked his mom, giving her a tight hug, which she laughed at, and ran upstairs to ring Veronica.

 “Jesus, Vee, how did you do that so fast?” Victor says through the phone in a whisper-yell, clearly excited that their plan was working smoothly. What he wasn’t expecting to hear was a male voice coming through the phone. 

 “I’m not quite sure what you mean, young man. Who is this, and why are you calling my daughter?” 

 “Oh, sir, this is one of Veronica’s friends.” Giggling could be heard over the phone, and Victor immediately recognized it to be his best friend's voice. “Haha, very funny, guys. Hey, Vincent, thanks again for doing this. Like I was telling Veronica, you guys don’t have to come tomorrow. I can do this by myself. I just needed you for this part to convince my mom.” 

 “Trying to get rid of us that fast, guapo? I think not. Plus, I honestly need the distraction from all this, really.” Vincent spoke genuinely, and who was Victor to turn him down? 

 “Ok, Vince, but tell Veronica to give me the keys tomorrow after school. You know how she’s quick to lose things.” An offended scoff could be heard in the background, making him laugh a bit as Vincent agreed he couldn’t wait to get this deal over with; he didn’t like having to drag his friends into this. Hopefully this ghost wasn’t a pain in the ass like the one he was forced to live with for half his life.

---

 Everything was going to plan. Veronica gave him the keys to the school building. Telling him not to do anything stupid, which, of course, he was. He knew his friends would meet him at the school building around 8, so he had his mother drop him off at 7 sharp. That should give him enough time to talk to this spirit and hopefully make the deal. As he entered the school building, he didn’t particularly care for how eerily quiet it was; the dark hallways loomed forever until eventually he made his way to the science building door. Once entering the abandoned classroom doors, he thought that the spirit would be waiting for him, but of course things couldn’t be that simple, as the classroom was empty. He sighed, deciding to look around the empty classroom. He went through a couple of the desks, finding nothing. The previous teacher's desk was locked, and finally he started to go through the lockers in the back of the classroom. One in particular caught his attention. Inside the locker, read. 

FREAK, LOSER, MONSTER FACE, UGLY

Victor noticed a small vial at the bottom of the locker. As he went to reach for it, the spirit decided to appear. “I wouldn’t touch that if I were you.” Victor yelled a bit, turning around to face the spirit. For the most part, Victor didn’t see anything wrong with the spirit’s appearance other than half of his face dropping. His eyelid and his mouth were clearly partially paralyzed as they dropped down. The spirit noticed his staring and looked away. “I know I may not look the best, sorry.”

 “Huh? What? No, I’m sorry for staring. There’s nothing wrong with your face.”

 The spirit scoffed at this: “Yeah, right, but thanks for being nice.” 

 “Um, ok, well, you might not know this, but I was sent to help you, actually, so if we could make this quick.” 

 “To help me?” The spirit said, tilting its head, “I don’t need help. I like it here.” The spirit says, Walk off, Victor quick to follow it. 

 “Huh, but don’t you want to get back at the people who bullied you?” Victor looks to the spirit in disbelief at his sudden dismissal of death.

 “And how do you know that exactly?” The young teen spirit looked surprised that Victor knew the obvious.

 “Well, according to the demon I’m working for, you’re producing negative signals, meaning you were either wronged or—” a screeching of the chalkboard could be heard, making Victor cover his ears.

 “Please leave.” The spirit began to shake his head as things began to fly around the room as his nerves increased. 

 “All you have to do is give me a name, and we can avenge you.” Victor persisted, dodging a flying item and inching closer to the spirit in plea.

 “I made my peace with it. I’m fine here. The school isn’t too bad at night. No one can ever mess with me ever again.” He says, Step back, but Victor now has him cornered against the locker. Although the spirit could just choose to disappear. Victor takes his unwillingness to leave as his chance to persuade him. There’s still hope. 

 “So you’d rather live the rest of your life as a coward stuck here. And allow the people who clearly bullied you to go on as if nothing happened.” Victor argued he wasn’t going to give up; he already risked too much; he wasn’t going to let this spirit take the coward’s way out. 

 “IT WAS AN ACCIDENT,” the spirit shouted, startling Victor, as the spirit was normally soft-spoken. 

 “What do you mean it was an accident? They were bullying you, right? That’s how you died.” Victor says, confused, he had an assumption of what happened, maybe a suicidal death from the bullying. But an accident was the spirit still making excuses for his predecessors. 

 “Well, yes, they did bully me, but they didn’t mean to kill me. We were working on a chemistry project, and one of them distracted me, and the other one switched out one of the bottles we were working with. Something went wrong to where I couldn’t breathe. They didn’t mean to do it. I could tell by the looks on their faces that they didn’t mean to.” 

 “But they still did.” Victor shouted, stopping the spirits' rambling, “They did, and now you're dead. Are you seriously ok with that?” 

 “NO,” the spirit shouted once more before catching his breath, attempting to calm down. “They didn’t even get in trouble for it, really, because it was an ‘accident.’” They got to live their lives, and I’m just stuck here. Of course I’m not ok with it, but what am I supposed to do?” A small knock could be heard from the front of the school, signaling that Vincent and Veronica were here, but Victor didn’t have time for them; this was the perfect time to seal the deal. 

 “You can make a deal with me.” The spirit looked hesitant, as they all do. “You give me the names of the people who wronged you, and since it’s multiple, I won’t tell the demon who I’m working with your name. So that way the people who killed you can go to hell, where they belong, for bullying you, and you can finally get the peace you deserve.” The knocking increased. “We have to make this quick, though. What is it that you want to do?. Stay here for the rest of your life and let the people who got away with killing you free, or make a deal with the radio demon.” Victor says, extending his palm, if the spirit shook his hand, it would be finalized. Sure, Alastor would probably be slightly upset that he didn’t get three quartered souls, but Victor wasn’t a bad person, and this spirit he really empathized with, considering he got bullied himself for his discolored eyes. Nobody deserves to get bullied and tormented, accident or not, so when the spirit reached out and shook his hand. This time Victor didn’t feel bad for what was to be done. 
 

Notes:

If you weren’t aware the spirt has bell palsy syndrome. Back in the day kids were ruthless for example they made fun of my grandma for having white hair. Also accidents in the science labs back in the day were not uncommon considering their lack of safety back then. Anyways I hope you enjoyed this chapter. It only gets worse from here so buckle up.

Chapter 12

Notes:

Again do you don’t get confused because their names are similar. Vincent and Veronica are Victors best friend. Victor is human Vox :) anyways enjoy the fic!!

 By the time he had let Veronica and Vincent into the school, Alastor had already gotten the names of the bullies who he had to go after. Veronica complained that Victor had them waiting for too long, to which he replied he barely heard the knocking. As the three of them re-entered the abandoned classroom, the spirit looked hesitant with the newcomers. “You know they can’t see you, right?” he said to reassure it.

 “Yes, I’m aware it’s just people like them. We’re the ones who usually bullied me, so it brings up bad memories.” The teen ghost replied, standing on the opposite end of the classroom away from his friends.

 “That’s so freaky, so you’re talking to a ghost right now.” Vincent says, looking around, “Why can’t we see the spirit again? I mean, I’ve heard some people have seen ghosts before, so…” 

 “Maybe it’s because he doesn’t want to be seen.” Victor shrugged as he sat next to his friends, who had brought supplies to spend the night at school with him. “I really appreciate you guys doing this for me, by the way, although you really didn’t have to stay after.” 

 “Well, we’re already here, so we might as well see it, though.” Veronica says, piling extra blankets and pillows onto the floor, “Although this is creepy as hell.” 

 “So what do you have to do, Vic? I mean, how are you going to help the ghost” Vincent says, going based off the story he was told. I mean, technically it wasn’t a full lie; Victor was helping him move on.

 “How do I know that the demon you’re working for is really going to get rid of them and it’s not some trade-off?” the spirit said, suddenly appearing right next to him again. 

 “I guess that’s a good question. I’m pretty sure Alastor was saying the deal couldn’t be complete unless his end of the deal is fulfilled, so I don’t think he could screw you over,” he whispered so his friends couldn’t hear him. Luckily, Veronica was already drifting to sleep, but Vincent was wide awake and curious. 

 “What’d it say? Why are you whispering?” Vincent eyed him suspiciously. 

 “Uh, well, the spirit was bullied, unfortunately, so he was wondering if I could truly help him pass since he’s still resentful nothing happened to the bullies” Victor says again, half telling the truth as Vincent nodded in understatement. 

 “Yeah, that’s understandable. So you’re trying to help the spirit by helping it pass; is that why we’re here?” Vincent says a look of contemplation spreads across his face before he speaks again. “Why the sudden interest in helping it? I thought you wanted to ignore them.” 

 “I did, uh—” Victor stumbles, trying to think of a quick lie. “But I just had the sudden feeling to help this one, if that makes sense.” Victor couldn’t tell Vincent the real reason Vincent’s brother had died for making a deal with a demon. But Victor swore to himself that he would be careful. That lying to his friends would be worth it because it was all for his mother’s sake. Although he didn’t really want to get them involved, it was the only way to get in contact with the spirit. Thankfully for him, the spirit wasn’t as dangerous as the one that once haunted his house. 

 Vincent eyed him curiously but chose not to question him. “So how do we help this spirit? I mean, we can’t exactly get its revenge.” 

 “Right, um, I think we should just wait. I think staying here and talking to him about what happened might make it easier for him to pass, maybe,” Victor says, knowing the only way the spirit would truly pass is if Alastor were able to take care of the deal, giving him the reassurance of revenge. But perhaps talking with the spirit would also help the passing be easier, although it was a cover-up. 

 The spirit as well as Vincent both gave him a look but chose to say nothing as Victor pulled out a chair to sit across from the spirit, who was now looming above him. “This might be a little weird for you, so feel free to fall asleep if you want. I can handle this,” Victor said, looking behind him to address Vincent briefly before turning back to the male ghost. In response, Vincent pulled out his own blanket, getting comfortable sitting next to Veronica but still watching Victor. 

 “So how do you feel knowing that things will be getting handled?” Victor says to the spirt, being as vague as he could. 

 “I mean, for half of the decade I was here, honestly, I was angry. I wanted them to feel the pain I felt; instead, they got to live their lives with little repercussions.” The spirit says, in all honesty. “I grew to accept after a while that nothing was going to happen; perhaps it’s the unfulfillment I felt that kept me here. I thought if I accepted it, I would be able to move on, but maybe part of me never did,” he says, shaking his head, briefly looking at his friends, who Victor now noticed were both asleep. 

 “I know it may be shady leaving your revenge to a demon. I mean, hell, I still have my doubts that somewhere along the line he might screw me over,” Victor says quietly before continuing. “But one thing I’ve noticed so far is he’s true to his word; whoever did this to you will be dealt with.” The spirit nods as he looks at Victor thoughtfully. 

 “So why did you make a deal with a demon in the first place? I know you're not really helping me on your own accord, like you told your friends” 

 Victor smiled at him sheepishly. “Yeah, in all honesty, if it weren’t for this deal, I’d probably avoid you. But my mother’s life is at stake, and I’d do anything for her.” He took a small glance at his friends. “Even lie to the people who are most important to me.” 

 The young ghost gave him a look of understanding before a green light wrapped around his body, signifying the deal was complete. Not only that, but Alastor appeared a tad bit ruffled, but he still held his appearance, smiling at the now fading spirit. “Wow,” this spirit said, standing up and smiling. 

 “Now normally I don’t do charity work, but since they’re more names in the end, I suppose letting your souls pass peacefully can be arranged.” Alastor says and Victor stares at the spirit; he had never seen one cross over before, and it was quite beautiful to watch. 

 “I don’t know what to say. Thank you for lifting this weight off my chest. I don’t know if someone who feels so good about getting their revenge once it’s done should be going to heaven,” the spirit says, chuckling, and Alastor tsked, shaking his head. 

 “Now, now, I never said you’d be going to heaven.” Alastor smiled, radio voice and full effect, as the spirit and Victor looked at Alastor in disbelief. 

 “What do you mean? He didn’t do anything wrong? Plus, you don’t have his name, so you can’t take his soul,” Victor whispered, shouting and shoving a finger into the radio demon’s side, which he glared at, brushing his coat off before continuing. 

 “Precisely, I did not take his soul. But he did, in fact, make a deal with a demon. I don’t think that guarantees him a ticket to heaven. Oh no, my dear fellow, I think that guarantees him a ride straight to hell.” Alastor smiles, eyes sinister, before stepping closer to the fading spirit. “Now, if you want, I can guarantee you protection down there, but of course, for another price.” 

Victor goes to argue, but the ghost who went through years of bullying knew he wouldn’t last a day in hell. “You’ll protect me?” The youth is clear on this spirts face as he says this his eyes are pleading “If I go to hell you’ll protect me right? Especially from the people you just killed”?

 “Why of course you’d have my guaranteed protection if you give me your soul” Alastor’s head tilted as if it was obvious and before the spirt could disappear completely he quickly shook Alastor’s extended hand. “A pleasure doing bussiness with you” Alastor says before the spirt fully disappears into nothingness.

”You’re a monster, you know that?” Victor glares at Alastor as his smile only widens. 

 “Well, there’s no day like tomorrow. The jobs only get harder from here, so hop to it if you want your mother’s health to remain intact.”  Alastor laughs at the disbelief look on Victors face before disappearing himself leaving Victor with his thought.

Notes:

A lot of people forget that Alastor is in hell. If he were innocent he’d be in heaven so I don’t why people are so quick to forget that this is a powerful overlord whose probably killed
Hundreds to get the status he has😅 this fic will show how sinster Alastor can truly be as well as how Victor(Vox) earns his ticket to hell.

Chapter 13

Notes:

TRIGGER WARNING: Child kidnapping, Graphic death
If you want to skip you can this chapter is basically Victors mindset being changed on his morals once put in a really fucked up situation

 Of course Victor was curious about how Alastor was able to find his victims simply off their names. Unless his magic helped him track the perpetrators, but he seriously doubted that. So one day when Alastor was adding a few more vengeful spirits to his list, Victor, asked. “So how exactly are you finding the people the spirits want dead?” Victor says, examining the demon’s face before him. For a demon he wasn’t actually really all that scary like humans depicted them to be. Lost in thought, he didn’t notice Alastor had answered him. “What?” He asked again, to which Alastor simply rolled his eyes. 

 “I said all the people I’ve killed tend to leave a paper trail.” Victor tilted his head in confusion, signaling for Alastor to elaborate. “Well, my dear boy, it’s simple. For example, your therapist had a record for past robberies. Which happens to be in the police record, and luckily for me, the police aren’t able to see me. To which in turn I can look and track who I need to dispose of,” Alastor says, smiling as Victor takes in his words. 

 “Ok, so what were to happen, let’s say, if they didn’t leave a paper trail?” Victor asks curiously. 

 “Well, if the person is condemned to hell, I can see all of their sins that they committed on their souls.” Victor figured that’s how he was able to track the bullies so easily. Lost in thought, he didn’t notice Alastor approaching. “It’s a shame this next one you’re going to be doing all alone,” he said, smiling as Victor’s eyes widened. 

 “What do you mean I can’t track the killers like you can? I can’t access police data,” Victor says, giving him a look. “And I told you I’m not killing anyone.” 

 “You humans and your morals,” Alastor says, pinching his temples in annoyance. “Tracking this person won’t be hard, as there is a growing amount of spirits in one particular park. I have other priorities in hell to attend to, so if you have an inkling on who is the one murdering these spirits, you can radio me in.” 

 “Although I think you might reconsider your morals once you speak to the victims,” Alastor says, handing him the new list.

1. Science lab located at Roseland High School (spirit only appears at night)

2. Carston’s church 

3. Nighttime parlor (dangerous signal!!! Be wary (no time limit).

4. Camden's Dining (abandoned diner spirit very protective of location; be wary) 

5. Hynath Park (multiple children spirits; strong distaste for adults may be harder to convince) 

6. James Bar 

  “You only added one thing to the list.” Victor scrutinized

  “I add names as I see fit; now you are aware where the park is.” Alastor speaks rushed as if something was edging him back. 

  “Yes, it’s right by my school,” Victor is cut off quickly. 

 “Good job, pal. Alright, well, I’ll be off now. Do remember I am a quite busy demon. There is no rush on this, and only call me for emergencies,” and with that, Alastor disappears.

 January 3rd, Rosemont, Illinois, 1939

 The damn demon played him. He should have known by the smug smile on his face that this would be a lot harder than he had set it out to be. Victor can’t recall how many times he sat at this park bench. Throughout the years, there were a couple of people that he thought looked suspicious, but the spirits never reacted to them negatively. Instead the children spirts would walk past them and continue on playing dismissing his theories completely . The only one other man that Victor had semi suspicious on was only because he could’ve sworn he saw a dark black aura surrounding him. But that couldn’t be the man was in his late 40s he really didn’t think someone who took joy in walking their dog every Wednesday would go out of his way to kidnap children. Victor shrugged what he saw off perhaps his lack of sleep was making him hallucinate. 

 Victor was making little to no progress. He did, however, find small clues like a piece of missing clothing he would give to the police. Every time he found a new clue, he dialed Alastor in to see if he was able to retrieve a name from the police station. Each time the demon arrived, his answer was still the same: no name, a quick goodbye, and a laugh at Victor's misery before he went. So here he sat at the park bench looking like an absolute creep before he had to head into work. Looking for any type of clue or person that looked even creepier than him.

 Just as he was going to head off, he spotted the man who usually walked his dog he still had the small black aura around him and just as Victor was going to dismiss it he noticed a couple of children spirts playing as they usually did but once they got closer to the elderly man they vanished. That never happened before why would the children spirts suddenly disappear unless. Were they scared of the man? Victor suddenly felt hot. Was it him this whole time? The dark aura surrounding the man seemed clearer then ever. Victor began to observe him he was playing fetch with his dog and everything seemed normal perhaps Victor was reading far too much into this. Sighing he eased more into the park bench. As he continued to watch the man that’s when he saw it. The elder man purposely threw the ball by one of the kids. One of the children excitedly begin to bring the ball back to the dog that the man bent closely by a small smile adorn his face. Victors heart sped up in his chest as he realized.

The dog was an trap. 

 As the child approached the man Victors blood ran cold. The bastard looked around and noticed Victors eyes on him shot him a friendly smile noticing he was being watched and begin to walk off.  This time Victor refused to let him get away until his suspicions were confirmed, he began to follow the man; he had to get a name. He would get the guy alone and ask as dangerous as that may be that way he could have Alastor confirm if this is who they were after. Just as he was about to reach him, the man “accidentally” let go of his dog, who ran after a few children. It wasn’t aggressive. Victor should’ve paid attention to the man. He finally had him in his sights, but he went to grab the dog quickly, not thinking that the man would disappear once he finally caught the dog. Not thinking a scream would be heard and another child would go missing. Victor fell for his trap as well. He was back to square one. And now he had a dog to look after as well. 

 Later that night he couldn’t sleep; the only thing giving him small comfort was the small dog laid above him, breathing softly on his chest. He still couldn’t help but think, what if the man decided not to go to the park anymore? It was clear he knew Victor had spotted him; that’s why he let go of the dog as a distraction. Would more innocent kids get killed because he wasn’t quick enough? After all these years of waiting to try and find this monster. Would he get another chance to catch him again? He refused to give up and have blood of innocent children on his hands so he showed up to the park for the next two weeks straight at the same time hoping the perpetrator would be bold enough to show his face again.

 Although that did cause some suspicion from the police. He was questioned for being at the park the day of the one child’s disappearance. As well as bringing evidence in that no one else could find. He argued his case: if he was the person killing the children, why would he bring in evidence to put him away? They fingerprinted him, and with nothing against him other than suspicion, they were forced to let him go. Not wanting to be questioned further, he frequented the park less, which wired his nerves. For each passing day he didn’t go, he couldn’t be catching the killer. He arrived at the park after not coming for two days, and his heart dropped as he realized there were not one but two more child spirits. As if this murderer was taunting him for not being there. 

 Victor never felt such anger; his hand shook as he realized the spirit was only an infant, younger than most. He never felt such anger and hatred for any of the people he had sought vengeance for, but this guy was definitely going to pay with or without Alastor. So for the next couple of days Victor arrived at the park wearing a jacket. It was fall, so it wasn’t too suspicious, and it covered his face. He really should’ve thought of this sooner. He got a couple weird stares, but nobody really questioned him too much; they were just cautious of him, especially with the news of the disappearances. There were fewer children visiting the park. With his knife held in his pocket, Victor was starting to lose hope that he would find this killer. That was until he spotted the dark presence; the man was surveillancing the park. He carried a bag on his shoulder. With the parents on high alert it would be too hard for him to do what was set out realizing this the man began to walk off. This would be Victor's last chance; he most likely wouldn’t come back for a while, if at all.

 Victor was slowly on his trail. It was beginning to get dark but the elder man’s bright blue shirt helped Victor track him through woods.Luckily for him, this time the guy didn’t notice him. The man went off to a more secluded area deep into the forest of the park, most likely the trail he took when he stole the children. Away from the public eye. Victors blood boiled at the thought, his heart pounding with what he was considering doing. He noticed a small trailer up ahead. Was this where the man was keeping the children? The man did a once-over to make sure no one was following him. Luckily, Victor hid behind a tree just in time, observing the man, who thought he was in the clear, moving a pile of leaves. Once removed, it was clear as day what lay beneath: a hidden bunker. The man began to head down into the bunker. He waited for the man to come back up, and to further prove his point that this was the man he was after, a faint sound of a child’s scream could be heard down below. Just then a small spirit arose from the bunker and started walking in the direction of the park. 

 Victor saw red. Having wasted enough time, Victor decided to go down into the bunker himself to take action. The stench is what hit him first. As he reached the bottom of the bunker, he had to adjust his eyes to the dark. This may have been a mistake. He was at a clear disadvantage, as the man had clearly made the bunker and was still nowhere in sight. Victor clutched the knife harder in his hands as he inched forward. The man’s face was clearly burned into Victor’s head: a skinny white man with brownish-grayish hair. Scraggly beard, stained blue T-shirt. Perhaps he would be able to make out a blue shirt.

 He did make out something; it was not blue but a stained shirt covered in red as the sick bastard was eating the child below him. Victor's stomach turned as he involuntarily threw up. Alerting the sick bastard before him. The man tried to rush him, but Victor, already having the knife in hand, stabbed him shocking even himself before his anger overtook he began to restlessly stab the man over and over as if the children spirts had possessed him giving him a newfound strength that coursed through his body aching to have their revenge. What, he didn’t realize was Alastor appeared before him, smiling more widely than ever as he was lifted away from the man he set out to kill, bleeding out. 

 “Well now, this isn’t exactly what I had planned, dear pal, but I’m definitely not disappointed,” he smiled as he walked to the man now clutching his stomach as he bled out. Alastor inspected him before putting the edge of his heel on one of the man’s stab wounds, causing a grueling scream to come out, to which Alastor tilted his head. “Now then, for people like you, I usually wouldn’t mind my client here having his first kill and torturing you for the things you’ve done. Now it’s what you deserve.” The man shook his head, his eyes slowly starting to lose color. “Now, now, none of that. Let’s make a deal,” Alastor says as his tendrils go around the man, stopping the bleeding momentarily. “You can give me your soul by simply nodding your head yes, orrrr.” Suddenly Victor was dropped, but the knife was in Alastor's hands. “I could continue to let my client stab you until you die of internal bleeding. What will be your choice? Would you like to give your soul to me?” Before Victor could regrab the knife from Alastor’s hand, the man nodded, disappearing within the shadows. 

 Victor's rage was not gone, but he had bigger issues to worry about. He decided to ignore the look of pride Alastor was currently giving him and address him later. He needed to make sure he didn’t miss anything in the bunker he looked around the room and noticed underneath the bed were two small children shaking in fear traumatized for what they had just witnessed. “I’m not here to hurt you” Victor said voice small in hopes to convince them but as they seen the blood of the man stain Victors shirt they held each other closer tightly. “I know I might look scary right now but I promise you I’m going to call the police so you can go home to your parents”. And with those words the older out of the two children hesitantly crawled out Victor outstretched his arms to her and both her and the younger boy ran into Victors arms as he took them out of the bunker and quickly called the police. 

 He was proclaimed a hero for saving the children’s life, who also identified him as not being the killer. The police did also interrogate him on where their perp went, of course, to which he responded he only found the children when he decided to go on a walk and heard small noises which led to them. He said unfortunately the kinapper was not in sight(although deep down he knew the real truth), leaving the area for still open investigation. When he finally made it home, he was exhausted and ready to just go to sleep. He was not expecting to smell something amazing when he walked through the door. “Wha-“. 

 “Well, I think everyone’s first kill deserves a celebration, especially something as grand as yours.” Victor could only look at him in pure disbelief as his new pet barked happily at him, apparently having gotten some too, as the stew was dribbling from his face. “Now, usually I don’t allow animals to eat such a meal. But I’m in quite the good mood, so I’ll allow it for now. Now come on, sit and eat. I’m sure it’s been a while; you look too thin.” Again too tired, he let the demon usher him to his dining room table that his parents helped him buy. He wanted to be mad at the demon for celebrating something so sinister. But as his stomach growled and his hunger overtook him, he couldn’t help but think about how good the food was and how great he felt about being able to save some of the children’s lives.

Notes:

I had to rewrite this chapter so many times because I just had to get it right. I hope you guys liked it. It’s a little dark and it’s giving five nights at Freddy’s vibes but this is the only think of that would be a turning point for Victor who refused to kill.

Chapter 14

September 5th, Rosemont, Illinois, 1940

 “You’re on the news; my baby is on the news,” his mother shouted excitedly over the phone, to which he simply rolled his eyes at. “A hero—that’s what my boy is, on top of already being a famous newscaster. Now I have more stuff to brag about.”

 “Don’t brag about me, Mom. I’m just a regular local newscaster who did what any normal person would do in a situation like that.”

 “Yes, honey, but they were all proven wrong. They almost got you fired at your old job for no reason, and now look at my baby, a hero with a great job. I couldn’t be prouder.” Victor simply chuckled at his mom's enthusiasm, quickly going to feed his dog, whom he now named Vark. He wanted to keep the V theme, and all the little pitty puppy did was bark. Victor thought it was creative, but his friends simply laughed at him when he told them on the phone, speaking of. “Mom, I love you. And I’m glad you get to brag about me now, but I have to go to work.” 

 “Oh, ok, honey, but promise me before you go you’ll visit your still in Rosemont—“

 “not for long” he grumbled

 “Well, before you do become a big hotshot, come visit your mother. Your father even misses you in his own way; he shows it. Plus, you can invite your friends. I’m sure they can spare a day to have dinner like the old times.” Victor complained that he was having trouble making progress on getting the spirit at the diner to show his face, and after a year of being the main topic at his job, he figured he needed a break. 

 “Alright, ma. I’ll call them up and we’ll stop by next week .” He could hear his mother excitedly telling his father the news, which he simply grumbled at. They both said a quick goodbye, and Victor made his way to work.

He had planned to call his friends once he got out of work after a quick walk with Vark. What he was not expecting was the demon he was working for to be lounging on one of the chairs he had set up in the living room. This past year Alastor has made it a habit to stay around more, which, of course, Victor questioned. Although the demon always gave him vague answers. He didn’t necessarily mind, though, as Alastor was a great cook, even though he complained about Victor’s lack of groceries and sent him off to get some. The demon wasn’t too bad to talk to either. They often times, would talk about Alastor's past kills when he was alive. “You know, for most of my first kills, I had good reasons as to why I did it too,” the demon said, getting himself comfortable on Victor’s lounge chair, Vark circling Alastor excitedly but was shooed off as always. So he came into Victor’s lap instead. “Then eventually when I came to Hell, I realized killing would just become a fun sport that I would have to adapt to in order to survive.”

Victor, who was currently eyeing a few reports for his next segment, eyed the demon curiously. “And you’re suddenly telling me this why?” 

 “Well, I’m curious to see what kind of psychopath you’ll become.” Alastor’s smile widened as Victor tsked; he picked Vark up, setting him on the floor, and decided he’d finish the segment tonight, figuring he should probably call his friends before they both fell asleep and he prolonged it to where the lunch would never happen at all. He responded to Alastor lackluster as he began to dial his Vincent’s number first.

 “I’m not killing again; that was just because of the circumstances. I’m not like you.” Victor says, and a manic laugh escapes Alastor. 

 “Your denial amuses me, but nevertheless, you’ll come soon to realize that it is out of your hands now.” As the phone continued to ring, Victor held out a hand, signaling for Alastor to wait a moment as he quickly talked to his friends, or at least attempted to. As Alastor now sprawled boredly on his couch, he shook his head in amusement. At least he was able to finally get a date and time from two of his friends for dinner.

 “You sure make yourself comfortable in my home, demon, and you have yet to tell me why you are visiting so frequently now,” Victor says, sitting on the edge of the couch, smirking amused. 

Alastor sits up, taking a perfect gentleman pose, as if in dismissal of the accusation; his eyes narrow. “Is that why you had me wait through your uninteresting conversations? As I said before, it’s nothing for you to—

 “Concern myself with? Yes, yes, I’m aware, although I’m starting to think you’re hiding from something, perhaps a new powerful enemy in hell. I wouldn’t be surprised if you’re running away from-.” 

 “ENOUGH” Alastor shouts, the room darkens, and he realizes he perhaps pushed too far. “You are due to remember your place.” 

 “Ok, ok, touchy subject. Sorry, I actually had a real question outside of that.” 

 Alastor eyed him, but nevertheless he nodded for him to continue as the energy surrounding the room calmed down. 

 “So the man that I, uh” 

 “Brutally stabbed to where he was unrecognizable” Alastor smiled amused once more. Victor cringed at the reminder. 

 “Yes, that. Well, even before I had my suspicions of him, I remember clearly seeing a dark aura around him. And I remember you saying something about how you can track the people who you were after because their souls are damned to hell or something like that.” Victor rambled, but Alastor looked ever so more amused. 

 “How peculiar,” he says, staring at Victor intensely. 

 “Right, so I was wondering, since I’m able to see spirits and now am connected to you, a demon, do you think that’s maybe why I’m able to see the people who were after,” he pauses, “the people damned to hell, I mean. I just don’t understand why it was around that one person in particular. I mean, I’m sure there are a bunch of people who are damned to hell, but the aura was specifically around him, so I’m just finding it hard to understand.”

 Alastor observed him for a moment before answering. “Perhaps there’s some underlying magic I myself am not aware of. You are a special type of client after all,” he says, standing up once more. “I’ll have a talk with Zestial and get back to you on the matter.” 

 “Who’s Zestial?” Victor asked in confusion.

 “A powerful demon whose expertise is magic in the meantime—perhaps I make a suggestion?” Victor turned towards Alastor as he was now making his portal back to hell; he offered a small hum in response.

 “Well, after dinner I do remember putting a particular parlor on your list. I do suggest perhaps getting a drink from there; time never stops after all.” Victor rolled his eyes but understood what Alastor was implying.

 “And here I thought I was on paid break for so gracefully hosting your presence.” This earned a chuckle from Alastor. 

 “A good joke, but I do have a few more names to put on the list once you’ve completed this task, so do get a move on, yes.” And with that, he was giving a small farewell as Alastor vanished.

---

 Victor honestly couldn’t help but chuckle as Vincent was currently in the kitchen instructing his mother on what seasonings to use. Just like old times, he thought, but this time it was Victor's father ushering Vincent out, telling Victor to entertain his friends better..  “I was thinking we’d go to a bar after this,” he said as Vincent took a seat next to him. Veronica was currently fixing up an old blouse of his mother’s. She always had an interest in clothes; he was only surprised that she chose to stay here instead of making her own boutique somewhere high-end. But as the years went on, her father's health had declined, and education was a generational thing, so she took on his role as principal. She would never tell them this, but Victor knew deep down it wasn’t what she was truly passionate about. As she always kept up with the top trends and would sew his mother new outfits excitedly when his mother asked. 

 Victor didn’t necessarily like putting his friends in the middle of danger, but he’d figure he’d have a good time while he was here, observe the parlor, and go back if he found anything suspicious. “I didn’t dress to go to a bar, Vic,” says Veronica, annoyed that he didn’t give her the heads-up.

 “You can just wear one of my mom’s new outfits you whipped up,” he suggested as she rolled her eyes. 

 “You know your mother’s style of clothes is suited for her age.” Not just then, Victor’s mother came in, smiling brightly as she announced dinner was ready. Apparently she heard parts of their conversation, as she told Veronica she had a dress for her to wear for the bar, guaranteeingit was just in her style. Veronica was never one to turn down a request from Victor's mother, so she accepted begrudgingly. 

As the table was finally clear, Victor sat next to Vincent, who went on about his work; he was mostly half listening. But mainly he was ready for Veronica to hurry up so they could leave for the bar. He noticed his father staring at him a bit, so he decided to go talk with him. They may not have had the best relationship growing up, but Victor knew once he got into his work trying to find new leads, and not only for his job but also for the list Alastor gave him. He tended to forget to check in on his parents (always the overworker) and although he didn’t quite believe his mother that his father had “gravely missed him.” He did have a feeling that his father had something to say to him, as he’d been staring at him this whole evening. “Hey Dad, how have you been?” he said, cutting Vincent off momentarily, but his friend quickly got the message, quieting down so he and his father could talk.

 “Shouldn’t I be asking you that? No wife yet?” His dad asked as he always did when he called; he could never let Victor just be scrutinizing him over something Victor lacked. “Your mother’s getting worried, you know. She goes on and on about having grandchildren. It’s all I hear about, quite frankly. I’m sick of it,” he said, attempting to be lighthearted, but Victor just rolled his eyes. He got a bit bolder with age, standing up to his father’s disapproval. “How about that girl that just went up with your mother? She seems nice.” 

 “Veronica and I? No, Dad, nothing’s going on between us; we’re just friends,” he says, dismissing the thought entirely. He and Veronica had fooled around a bit in high school, and that’s how they debunked the theory that they just weren’t into each other. Quite frankly, Victor hadn’t been interested in anyone like that really. The only person that he thought was attractive wasn’t a person at all, and he chalked that up to never seeing anything like the demon before. It’s not like he felt the “butterflies in his stomach” that his mother would talk about when meeting the right one. Perhaps his dad was right in the assumption that. 

 “You know, son, I just worry about you; you’ve always been a little…” His father paused as he noticed his mother came down with Veronica, who looked absolutely pissed that was the only choice of outfit his mother could find. “Well, doesn’t she look stunning, aye, Vic?” His father patted his shoulder, giving him an approving nod. 

 “Well, as fun as this was, I think we should be heading off. It was so lovely of you to host us. Thanks again, Mrs .” Vincent says, giving his mother a short hug, Blanty ignoring his father and pulling Veronica out of the door as she adjusted the tie of the dress for the 5th time since coming down. 

 “What was that about?” his father whispered to his mother as he went to go hug them both goodbye. Before leaving, his mother insisted on him not being a stranger, and his father quickly told him to remember what they had talked about, to which he nodded before heading off with his friends to the bar.

Chapter 15

 Ten minutes into their walk, Veronica was still complaining about the choice of dress his mother chose for her to wear. “I mean, all her other dresses I probably would have declined too,” she stated as if it were obvious. “And like I tried to tell her, I don’t need to be all dolled up to go to a parlor with the lot of you,” she huffed as she crossed her arms. “And what was your dad on about is he still trying to set us up?” Veronica said, raising an eyebrow teasingly, but that only set Vincent off on a tangent. 

 “I don’t understand why your papa is so obsessed with you getting married and having kids. It’s none of his business, and he wonders why you go months without calling him. He’s—” Vincent went on about how horrible his father was. Victor didn’t understand why Vincent would get so mad on his behalf. Perhaps because over the years. Him and Vincent got closer, both his and Veronica’s jobs kept them very busy, so they rarely got together anymore. But Vincent was still “figuring himself out,” undecided on a career path and still living with his parents. And because of this, Vincent more often than not would visit Victor on all his off days. The two of them would often eat Alastor’s leftovers, which the demon gave him hell about as soon as Vincent left.

 Vincent would draw a lot when he was over, although he refused to show Victor exactly what it was he was drawing.  Victor supposed a couple times Vincent was over he would complain about his father. About how he never really paid attention to Victor's struggles as a child. And he only calls to complain about how he wants Victor to improve, not for Victor’s benefit but for his own; how his dad often says he is tired of having the embarrassment of a son who “used to see ghosts.” Ok, now that Victor thought about it, he did give Vincent a lot of ammo to be angry on his behalf. So he wrapped an arm around his friend's shoulder, the physical contact that always seemed to calm him down. 

  “Vince I get it; my dad’s not the greatest, but I don’t want to think about that right now. Right nowwww,” he gestured to the front of the parlor. “I want to celebrate finally having an off day with all three of my friends,” Victor says, smiling brightly as he drags both of his friends into the bar, ready to forget all his problems. Not remembering that he was here to cause them.

 Again, it wasn’t really Victor’s fault that he was five shots in, completely forgetting what he was there for. That was until a pretty, tan-skinned gentleman with the softest looking brown locks that Victor ever saw in his life decided to sit next to him with a smile eerily familiar. “Having fun?” 

  Victor’s eyes widen once he realizes who it was. “Ohhh shit, why? How?” This earns a chuckle from Alastor. “You’re pretty.” Again, blame the shots, but the small blush adorning Alastor’s cheeks would make his regrets all worth it. Until their conversation was interrupted by his equally as drunk friends, Vincent drunkenly put an arm around him, pointing to the stranger that only Victor knew. “Vic, who’s this?” Vincent said, glaring at Alastor, who matched his gaze.

  “Vincent, this is Alastor, an old friend of mine.” Even drunk, Victor had become good at lying. “What are you doing here?” he said, shooting the demon who could apparently turn human a look.

 “I’m not staying long; I’ve just come to remind you to observe your surroundings and to be careful if you notice this bar is quite empty for a reason.” Alastor, of course, came to remind him of his task. 

 “Actually I did notice that. Do you know anything about that, uh, Al?” Vincent's distaste for Alastor turned to curiosity for a moment, as he was always a curious person. Although when Alastor rolled his eyes at the misuse of his name, Vincent went back to distastefully looking at Alastor, making Victor chuckle. 

 “It’s Alastor. I would say charmed, but the pleasure is yours,” he said. Victor shot him a warning glance as he continued, “Well, apparently there’s a killer about snatching patrons of this here pub.” Both Victor and Vincent’s eyes widened as Victor now realized the seriousness of the situation he was in; he’d have to be going up against a serial killer. Great, just great. As he went to ask another question, a glass slammed down on the table as the bartender shot Alastor a sharp glare.

 “It’d be best if you not spread too many rumors around here, boy. Don’t need you scaring the patrons off.” His tone was sharp, but Alastor’s smile never faltered.

 “Why, of course not, good man. As I said, I’ll be off; I simply just wanted to say hi to a friend.” Alastor’s face shifted back onto something as he left, and when Victor quickly turned to look, around the bar there were two older man perhaps regulars and a woman sitting by herself at one of the parlors table in a far corner, but nothing too out of the ordinary he thought still looking to try and get a better glance at her. 

 “What are you looking at, Victor?” Veronica asked as she ordered the bartender to fetch her another drink. 

 “It’s just weird that woman would come to the bar with all those rumors going around,” he said as he shot a glance at the woman and looked back to his friends, who both shot him a concerned look. Vincent was the first to speak. 

 “Victor, there’s no one there.”

---

 By some short-end miracle his friends were able to drag him to his apartment, where luckily Vark was put up; otherwise, they’d all tumble down. As Vincent and Veronica sat him down on the couch, they both gave each other a look, trying to figure out if this was the right time to have a conversation with him or not. One thing Victor hated was feeling left out, so of course he was quick to tell them to spill out whatever they had to say as they sat next to him. “So you’re still seeing spirits, Vee?” Veronica asked, giving him a concerned look, and by the look on Vincent’s face, he could tell that there was something they discussed prior that they still weren’t letting him in on.

 “Why are you saying it like that?” he glared, giving them both a look. “And why are you both looking at me like that?” Victor was quick to go into defense mode, especially since after all these years they’re just now giving him ‘the look.’

 “It’s hard not to look at you, but on a serious note, whatever this Vee has to say, just know I’m not in agreement with it,” Vincent says, shooting Veronica a look as she rolls her eyes.

 “That’s because you feel guilty about how his dad reacted to him “seeing ghost”’ which, by the way, is totally cruel, and he should’ve handled the situation way better as a parent.” She said shooting him a sympathetic look.

 “You told her about that,” Victor says, shooting Vincent a betrayed look, to which he held his hands up in mock surrender. 

 “The point is! He shouldn’t have to tell me about this stuff; you should. Veronica said pointedly, “I’m your friend too, Vee, which is why it’s surprising to me that you haven’t brought up the fact that you’re still seeing spirits.”

 “Why? So you can diagnose me better all the while still thinking I’m insane.” Victor pouted, crossing his arms as his two friends shared another knowing look. “Stop looking at each other like that. I’m not crazy; you don’t have to believe me. I never asked you to.” Victor snapped, getting up. “Get out; I don’t want you here,” he shouted at the both of them, feeling hurt and betrayed stumbling slightly as he was still drunk. 

 “Vee, how about we calm down and talk about things?” Veronica says, standing up as well trying to be the voice of reason as always. “You know now that I’m a principal, it gives me plenty of time to research what this actually might be, and I think it might benefit you.” 

 “Veronica, that’s—” Before Vincent continued, Victor cut him off. 
 
 “Diagnosis ME bullshit I don’t need your shitty diagnosis, and I don’t need you patronizing me. Stick to one career, Veronica. You’re not a therapist; hell, you’re not even a principal, really. Just because you couldn’t choose to do what you wanted to in life doesn’t mean you need to choose what I get to do with mine.” Victor knew he fucked up just by the look in Veronica’s face. “Shit, Vee, I’m—” He immediately tried to apologize but was shoved roughly.

 “No, fuck you, Victor. You want to see these ‘ghosts’ for the rest of your life? Fine by me. See if I ever try to help you again, you piece of shit,” she says, storming out before Victor could beg for forgiveness, even though, quite frankly, he really didn’t want to. Now all who was left was him and Vincent, who still had that pitying look on his face. “What?” he snapped as Vincent who just shook his head.

 “You know, hermano, I meant it when I said I do believe you.” Victor scoffs at this as Vincent goes to grab his notebook; he always draws on it, showing Victor a picture. It was him back when he tried to exorcise the school spirit. Obviously this was before Alastor damned it all to hell when he had hope that he could help the spirit because it was clear in the drawing that he was happy; his eyes shone with passion. “I was awake that day, you know. You were talking to the spirit, and I never told Veronica, but the way your eyes sparkled that day, I knew you couldn’t fake that.” Victor attempted to look at more photos in the notebook, but it was quickly snatched away by a blushing Vincent. “Anyways, Vic, I know it’s shit that Veronica doesn’t believe you, but you really should apologize. She truly only has your best interests at heart.” 

 Victor nodded, knowing his friend was right again. Drunken him was very touchy, so he was quick to give his friend a hug, his emotions getting the best of him as his heart thrummed in his chest. “Thank you,” he whispered as Vincent smiled as bright as ever. 

 “Of course, now about this ghost you saw at the bar,” Vincent says, interest piqued as Victor groaned, knowing his friend most likely would now be slightly involved in this next case.

Notes:

Keep in mind Vincent in Victors (Vox’s) human life is irly similar to Valentino but he is not Valentino. But that doesn’t mean the two aren’t connected some how >:)

Chapter 16

 “So what’s the plan? You're just going to walk into a crowded parlor and start talking to a ghost. You do realize how crazy you’ll look” Vincent smirked, most likely amused with himself that he was able to catch Victor on the way to the parlor.
 
 “It’s not that crowded” Victor huffed “Also why do you insist on coming again” he said eyeing his friend who was currently fixing the button to his shirt.

  “Well, I was hoping maybe when you talk to the ghost again, I could make out a glimpse of it and  convince our other V to get off your case a bit.” 

 “I’m pretty sure it doesn’t work like that. And like I said, I could care less if she chooses to believe me or not; it’s nothing I haven’t dealt with before.” Vincent gave him a look of disappointment before he went back to smiling and walking in front of him.

 “Well, either way, I’m coming to be your distraction so the bartender doesn’t kick you out for talking to yourself like a looney, no offense,” he chuckled as Victor grimaces but makes no room to complain as they enter the parlor because he knows Vincent is right. As his friend shoots him a wink walking off to distract the bartender, Victor goes to where the lady was once sitting in the parlor, hoping that she will appears again. 

 It’s about 30 minutes into waiting for this spirit that Victor starts getting impatient; his foot bounces restlessly as he gets up, figuring he might get a drink if he’s going to wait all day; a looming presence fills his gut. He looks up fully expecting to see the lady spirit but is surprised to see a fellow coworker instead. He still can’t help the uneasy feeling in his gut, but his thoughts are interrupted as his fellow newscaster starts to speak. “What are you doing here, Victor?”
 “Shouldn’t I be asking you that, Joe? I thought you didn’t drink.” Joe clearly tsked having been caught.
 “Look, I know you’re not dumb Vic, but you already got your big case. You probably have been hearing the whispers around work right? About the people that have been vanishing in this area. I’m assuming that’s why you’re here,” Joe says, quick to confront Victor, who simply shrugs boredly, looking to Vincent, who is still adamantly talking to the bartender. “This case is mine. “Victor, I’m not going to warn you again. Stay away from this parlor,” Joe says aggressively before stomping off. Victor takes a moment to consider his options as Vincent now takes a seat across from him.

 “What was that about?” Vincent asked curiously, sipping his drink. 

 “Work competition—it’s nothing. Let’s get going. I don’t think we’re going to find anything today.” Victor stands up, the two of them leaving the bar. Victor takes note that the parking lot is seemingly empty aside from a few regulars and the bartender. 

 “So what are you going to do? I mean, that guy seemed pretty pissed you were there. It’ll be harder to exorcise the ghost now, right?” Vincent said, walking closely on the side of him.

Victor figures if he was going to have Vincent involved in this, he’d at least be partially honest.“I’m not there to help her pass. I mean, that’ll be partially why I’m there, but”—he paused as Vincent’s face peered into him, filled with curiosity. “You know I’ve said multiple times I don’t need you to help me in this; it could be dangerous.”

 “What exactly do you plan to do, Victor?” Vincent said, "And it better not be something stupid like I think it is."

“I plan to catch the killer,” Victor said in all honesty as Vincent looked at him, not in shock but in anger.

---

  “HAVE YOU LOST YOUR MIND?” Now that they made it to his apartment, he wasn’t as embarrassed at Vincent’s yelling, but it still was giving him a killer migraine.

 “Look, you don’t have to help me,” Victor says, earning a more vicious glare from Vincent. 

 “You seriously think this is what that’s about, Victor?” Vincent says, still slightly yelling in frustration. “You’re willingly putting yourself in danger. You really think that I’m worried about me right now?” he says, shaking his head. “Maybe Veronica was right; maybe you need to go on meds.” He sighed, having run out of energy, and plopped down onto the couch next to Victor. 

 “You think I’m crazy too?” Victor asked. 

 “YES,” Vincent says, pausing as he sees the hurt look on Victor’s face. “Wait, shit, ughh, no, I don’t think you’re crazy, as in you’re making up seeing ghosts and shit. But I do think you willingly putting your life at risk for no apparent reason is absolutely insane in its own right.” 

 “People are dying, Vincent. I’m not doing this for no reason.” Vincent argues 

 “Yeah, people are dying; that’s why there are police investigating. That’s their job; maybe let them do it. I mean, hell, Vic, you don’t have a gun; you have nothing to protect yourself. What do you plan to do if you do catch the killer in the act?” Vincent reasons as his eyes bore into Victor; he’s met with silence as Victor was clearly not that far ahead. “Ok, great, so you were willingly just going to offer yourself as another victim.” 

 “No, I had planned to talk to the spirit and try to narrow it down by observing the area.” Victor argued.

 “So again, risking your life hoping for the best.” Vincent paced back and forth, muttering Spanish curses under his breath. “Ok, ok, let’s do this, but you need some type of protection just in case. I think I have an uncle who—”

 “Why are you involving yourself in this, Vince? I don’t need your help; you know the dangers.” 

 “And that’s exactly why I’m helping you,” Vincent shouted, startling both of them. Sighing, Vincent grabbed both his shoulders gently. “I don’t know why you think that it has to be you against the world, Vic. Do you really think so little of the years we’ve been friends?” 

 Victor sighed, running his fingers through his hair. “I don’t think little of this friendship; that’s why I don’t want you getting involved.” 

 “Well, too bad hermoso I’m helping now. Next time I’m going to sit with you while you wait for your spirit. I don’t need Frank getting the wrong idea.” Vincent says, “Also, my uncle owns a gun shop; we’re getting you registered for one. If you’re going to keep recklessly risking your life for dead people, the least you can do is have protection,” he says matter-of-factly. 

 “Who’s Frank?” Victor says, accepting defeat, as he lounges on his couch with Vincent and Vark. 

 “The bartender,” Vincent says, getting more comfortable on his couch as if stating he was, as a matter of fact, staying over so Victor couldn’t get out of this, knowing his work schedule. Vincent knew Victor had tomorrow off, giving them more time for their investigation tomorrow. 

 “And why would he get the wrong idea?” he said, reclining on his couch, deciding to chat with his friend before heading to bed. 

 “Well, because we’re both gay, so—” Vincent says as if it was obvious, and Victor immediately sat up, pushing the recline down. 

 “Wait, WHAT????” Victor says a bit loud shock by the new discovery. 

 “You seriously didn’t know? I mean, I made it quite obvious, I thought,” Vincent said, pouting and waving at his now that Victor really was taking it in very flamboyant close. 

 “I mean, I just figured that was your choice of fashion. You can’t automatically assume clothing, Vince,” Victor argued, full attention now on his friend. “I mean, I wish you would’ve told me sooner. Does Veronica know?” Vincent makes a face, confirming that in fact their other friend was well aware. 

 “Is it a problem?” Vincent says, in a small voice, it wasn’t uncommon being gay, but it wasn't that accepted either. Victor being Catholic probably didn’t make it easy to confide in him about this either, as most Catholic people were against the LGBT community. Victor realizes he’d been silent for a while, and his friend is picking at his wrist, which he notices Vincent only does when he is extremely nervous. Victor is quick to take Vincent's hand, gently pulling it away from the other to stop the habit as he always does. 

 “This changes nothing, Vince. I mean, come on, if you can accept me for being a loon, why wouldn’t I accept you for liking boys?” he jokes, pulling his hand away, but it’s quickly grabbed again. 

 “You’re not crazy, Victor. I mean, perhaps a little for risking your life like an idiot, but—" Vincent tears up a bit but quickly wipes his eyes. “I’m so glad you’re accepting me for who I am. I was really scared that I would lose you forever,” Vincent says as Victor immediately wraps him in a hug, comforting his friend how he knows best, squishing Vark in the process, earning a small bark from the dog that makes the both of them laugh. 

 “Friends forever Vee remembers that.” Victor lets the silence engulf them for a bit, letting his thoughts take over. “I really need to call Veronica and apologize, don’t I?” He says in mock defeat as his friend quickly agrees. 

Chapter 17

Notes:

Remember this is the 1940s at this time liking men and woman was still considered gay and being catholic on top of that it’s not going to be easy for Victor to accept the fact that he may like boys. Even if it was easier to accept his friend for it.

 Now that Victor knew this newfound fact about his friend Vincent, he started questioning things about himself. He supposed Vincent was not unattractive. I mean, the same could be said about Veronica, which is why they fooled around their high school year. They just didn’t make his stomach and chest feel the strange way it did when around a certain crazed demon, Alastor was truly beautiful. Now that isn’t to say that Victor was in love; he wasn’t. He could just admit when he found someone unfairly attractive. And now that Vincent made him aware again that liking men was a thing, he couldn’t help but question if he liked that insane demon that he had unintentionally tied himself to. Surely not? I mean, he wasn’t queer; he didn’t have thoughts about doing stuff with men. He just could admit when a man is attractive, but that didn’t make him a homosexual.

 “Victor, are you even listening?” Vincent said as the two of them walked into the parlor. He was in fact not listening, having his own internal crisis. 

 “Uhh, would you be mad if I said no?” Victor said as Vincent shoves him a bit as they both take their seats. Victor notices his coworker Joe is here; he is currently talking to the bartender, and when he takes note that Victor is here, he gives him a nasty glare but otherwise does nothing. 

 “I was saying that Veronica’s coming to hear your apology out,” Vincent says, calling the bartender over to order the table drinks.  Victor takes note that there are a few regulars here who refuse to listen to the rumors. And a couple new patrons—surprisingly, two younger ladies, maybe in their mid-20s, and three men. Victor chalked it up to a bravery test when he was in high school; the students there used to do these all the time—go to a scary hotspot and brag to their friends about it. He supposed he and his group of friends did it when they spent the night after school in a well-known area rumored to be haunted. Although they never bragged about it. Victor was going to try and listen to the group’s conversation to see if maybe that’s what they were doing. But just as he got small snippets of the conversation, Veronica decided to make her appearance, making sure to sit on Vincent’s side and pointedly ignore him. 

 “Hey Vee, “I’m glad you could make it,” Vincent says, giving her a small side hug as he nods for Victor to talk. 

 “Uh, right, so I guess this is where I try to apologize.” Veronica shot him a look, making him gulp. “I’m sorry, Veronica; it was wrong for me to comment on your lifestyle. What you do with your life is none of my business. I was hurt and drunk and was saying anything that I knew would hurt your feelings. Which, good on you, I don’t have much to talk shit about.” Victor says, and Veronica rolls her eyes. Just as Veronica goes to speak, he notices the female spirit; she looks dead at him. It’s unnerving, really, but what shocks him is she doesn’t take her usual seat at the parlor; she looks around and then exits it. “I’m sorry I have to—” He stands up quickly to follow the spirit, ignoring the shouts from his friends. The female spirit is walking normally into the parking lot before she turns a corner into an alley and vanishes. There was a big trash can for the bar on the side, but what he was not expecting to see was his coworker Joe. He was talking to someone Victor couldn’t make out, so he got closer, hiding behind the trash can and listening in on the conversation.

“You need to ———-on our trail ——— stop—— coming —— parlor.” The conversation was quiet, so Victor could only pick up bits of it. He decided to be brave and take a small peek, and his stomach dropped as he saw a very dark energy not on his coworker but on the man he was talking to. He didn’t catch much of the man except the tail end of his coat as he walked off. Victor felt lightheaded; he turned the corner, heading back into the bar, and slumped into his seat. 

 “You ok, Vic? You look really pale,” Veronica said, full concern on her face. Any other time he’d appreciate his friend’s concern. Be ecstatic that she has even forgiven him enough to talk to him, but right now he felt too nauseous to comment; he had strong suspicions that his coworker was now in on it, helping the person who has been taken/killing patrons from the parlor? He had a lead he could follow up on, He needed to again ask Alastor how dangerous the person he was dealing with was because if they were as dangerous as Victor thought they were, he definitely would need to get the gun from Vincent’s uncle quicker.

---

 Despite the numerous questions on his sudden disappearance, it seemed all was well again with his friends. He had a few more drinks with them, and Vincent practically carried him home by the time the night ended. When he woke up ready to head into work the next day, although his memories from yesterday were hazy, he could remember clearly that his coworker Joe had some connection to the person causing the disappearances, and so he decided he would pay a little closer attention to who his colleague surrounded himselfwith. 

 “So Vic Joe told me you’re going for another one of the big cases,” his boss suddenly said, surprising him as he wrapped an arm around him.
  
 “He’s going for MY CASE. Roger and I told you it’s against company policy for two people—" Joe started to complain while walking towards them, but Roger cut him off with a hand. 

 “Vic, if you find evidence that anyone is being killed, I’ll let you go with your narrative.” Roger says, earning a groan from Joe.

“It’s just disappearances. I’m telling you he’s just wasting time.” Joe complained, “I worked hard; I found out the people missing this should be my case.” Joe argues, but Roger simply shakes his head and continues. 

 “Like I said, Joe, he’s got 24 hours to report back to me with evidence. It shouldn’t be a problem, right? If what you’re claiming is true, the case is yours and we move on.” Again Roger dismisses, and he earns a reluctant agreement from Joe to let Victor work on the case, which he happily accepts. As he gets his stuff to leave, he hears Joe speaking lowly on the phone. “You need to lay low; you’re being investigated.” Some muffled yelling can be heard over the phone. Whoever this guy was, he was stubborn. Victor could only hope that he would still show up now with his time limit. “I’m only looking out for you; don’t be an idiot,” could be heard, and then silence. Victor figured it probably would be in his best interest to leave before getting caught eavesdropping.

 Things were starting to get interesting. Victor had a lead, and he knew there was a killer because he saw the spirits; he just needed to find proof. As he began to walk home, he decided he would take Vincent’s suggestion on getting something better to protect himself. He would ask Vincent to take him to his uncle and then after hit up the parlor. As he entered his house and greeted his dog, he did not expect a certain demon to be waiting on his arrival as well. “Alastor, what are you doing here?” He questioned putting his stuff down on the counter.

 “Just checking on your progress. As well as to inform you that apparently being tied with me has increased your power, which is why you are able to see people’s hell aura. More specifically the ones that we are targeting. I’ve always been quite the hunter, you see, and I guess that power has been passed to you.” 

 “That still doesn’t make sense. Surely you have people working under you. Why did your powers specifically only go to me?” 

 “Zestial is a wise being, but his explanation to me still doesn’t make quite sense.” Alastor's ears twitched in annoyance. 

 “And what was his explanation?” Victor questioned, intrigued. He could tell Alastor seemed reluctant to give his answer, but Alastor knew he would get bothered in the foreseeable future due to Victor's endless curiosity, he chose to give in. 

 “Souls that are bound together through hell and earth. Apparently their powers tend to combine. Although your powers are barely any use to me, as I was already able to see ghosts, and I’m still unable to speak to them; it’s an insult, really.” Alastor began to tap his foot upon his floor, deciding to change the topic quickly. “Anyways, enough about this. How’s your progress?” 

 “So you’re saying we’re soulmates.” Of course, Victor immediately picked up on what Alastor was so keen on avoiding. The flush on the demon's face made him want to interrogate him more on this. But the weird feeling in his stomach, having learned this newfound fact, made him decide perhaps it was best to change the subject. “I mean, it’s definitely not something I was expecting, but I guess that makes sense. As far as my progress, I was just about to call Vincent so I’m not blindly rushed by a serial killer, but I do have a strong suspicion of who’s working with the killer, so I’d say I’m close.” 

 “Ah, splendid, although your company is questionable. I think it is indeed smart to find protection, although it’s more interesting to see how you handle being put in a tricky situation.” Alastor said, chuckling, “I mean, the way you were rushed the last time. But somehow still got the upper hand to stab the previous man continuously was truly a spectacle to see.” Alastor began laughing now like the crazy bastard he was. "Soulmates? Yeah, right," Victor scoffed. 

 “You were there when all that was happening,” Victor said, crossing his arms across his chest, and Alastor’s laughter died down, but the smile of amusement was still clear on his face as Victor sighed. “Of course you were, you sadistic senile bastard.” Victor began to walk to his phone, having spent enough time talking to Alastor. “You can stay if you like, but Vincent may come over afterwards; maybe you can turn into that human form that you can apparently use,” he said sarcastically, and Alastor simply brushed him off with a shake of the head and a slightly annoyed look. 

 “I’ll be on my way. Good luck, and try not to get killed; it’d be truly unfortunate if my entertainment was gone.” And with that, Alastor disappeared, leaving Victor to talk with Vincent.

Chapter 18

 Victor couldn’t help but groan into his hand at the little progress that was being made. According to Vincent everything was going to plan. The two of them had gotten a gun from his uncle for protection, which was way easier than Victor had thought it would be to get. They both were at the parlor. And their main suspect was in fact there as well. Joe currently was sitting and talking to the bartender, per usual, with a smug look on his face. Both he and Victor knew from the previous phone call that Joe had told the killer/kidnapper; whoever the hell was behind this not to show his face at the parlor. And if Victor didn’t find any evidence by tomorrow of their being a killer, he would be forced to drop the case and accept defeat, handing it over to Joe, who would most likely just cover up what was actually going on inside the parlor. He groaned once more as the hours ticked down, and Vincent gave him a sympathetic pat on the shoulder.

 “What’s the matter, Vic? I mean, even if you can’t report on the case after this, you can still come here to investigate, can’t you?” Vincent asked, genuinely not understanding Victor’s dilemma.

  “Yeah, I suppose you’re right, but I just have a gut feeling if I do find evidence later, Joe’s going to claim it as false and get away with covering up for a potential murderer.”

 “He can’t do that, can he?” Vincent says, shouting a bit in disbelief. 

 “Unfortunately he can if his story goes in first; basically anything I put in after that will get discredited.” Victor groans into his hands again. “And we’ve been here for hours, Vincent; eventually someone’s bound to get suspicious. There’s a high probability the killer won’t even show.” 

 “Hey, ok, well, let’s just relax. We can grab a few more drinks and tell stories to pass the time. I mean, I was going to draw, but I suppose I can entertain you so you don’t look like a loser without a friend,” Vincent says, teasing mostly, making Victor chuckle. 

 “Geez, thanks; you’re such a great friend.” Victor eyes the bag that Vincent has brought, most likely carrying his journals. “So what is it that you draw that you’re so keen on not showing me?” Victor says, tilting his head at his now blushing friend. “Come on, Vince, they can’t be that bad. Let me see.” Victor reaches for the bag, but Vincent quickly pulls it out of reach. 

 “They’re not that good, Vic, I promise when I have a good one, I’ll show you.” 

 “I bet if Veronica asked, you would show her,” Victor says pointedly, a little bit annoyed still that the two of them have been keeping secrets from him. 

 “Don’t make the face, Vic,” Vince says as Victor fixes the face that he was unaware he was making. “Look, it’s not that I don’t want to show you; I just have a bit of a muse that I tend to draw a lot, and I’m embarrassed about it,” Vince says, avoiding eye contact and nursing his drink. 

 “What is it, naked men or something?” Victor says teasingly, causing Vincent to choke from his drink, making him smile wider. “Woooowww, didn’t take you for the type to draw porn. I mean, don’t feel too bad, Vince; it’s like the naked statues we saw when we had to go to that art museum, right?” Victor asks full of questions as always. “I’m not trying to get on your case about your porn that you draw; I just don’t want to be excluded from too many more conversations that I know you and Veronica are having. I mean, I’m your friend too, right?” he says with a tilt of the head, and before Vincent can answer, a slam from the bar is heard. Joe's eyes are practically bulging from his skull as he stares at a figure from across the room. And instantly. Victor feels sick as he takes in the man Joe is looking at. 

 He has a very broad build, dark hair, and brown eyes and seems very handsome to a normal eye. You wouldn’t think twice about the man, as he didn’t give off a threatening presence. But Victor does not have the normal eye. The black presence that surrounds the man gives Victor instant chills, and he is immediately grateful that he is sitting down. But then the man starts getting closer to him; he hears Joes yell in the background, but everything is currently muffled. Until the man in front of him gives him his best smile, extending his hand. 

 “Hello, you must be Victor. Joe has told me much about you.” It takes Victor a minute to gain his bearings, but he extends his hand only for it to be engulfed in a strong hold. His heart is speeding up in his chest for multiple reasons, one being the man muttering a cute under his breath, Victor not knowing if he’s the one being addressed, and two because the man is now sitting next to him. Taking in Victor’s sudden silence, Vincent decides to speak, glaring slightly at the man’s sudden intrusion. 

 “And you are?” Vincent says, eyeing him curiously. 

 “Where are my manners? I’m Joe’s cousin Lacy. He’s told me so much about you Victor I just had to meet the man given my cousin a run for his money.” The man now known as Lacy chuckles eyes soley on Victor. “Anyways, I hear you think that there’s some killing going on around this old parlor here, Vic, and I couldn’t not be interested. I mean, you don’t hear that around much, especially around parlors like these, so of course I just had to ask what exactly makes you think that’s happening, ya know? I’ve always been the curious fella,” he says, wrapping an arm around Victor, who visibly shrinks in his seat. “So, got any good stories? I’m just dying to hear.” 

 “It’s not something I can talk about openly for legal reasons even if I did,” he says short and blunt, earning a chuckle from Lacy, who wraps his arm around him tighter. 

 “You’re feisty; I like you. “Joe, come here for a second,” Lacy says, waving his cousin over, who looks as visibly shaken as Victor currently feels. When Joe makes his way to the table, Lacy finally speaks. “Invite your friends over for drinks so we can all talk openly.” It’s clear by the look on Joe’s face that it’s something he clearly doesn’t want, but he obliges anyways. 

 “Victor, how about you and your friend come over? I mean, it’s not like you have much to talk about anyways, but first, Lacy, let me speak to you for a moment.” Joe says, but again he’s shooed off by his cousin. In the background, Vincent softly ask him if he’s ok. 

 “Why do you ask that?” He whispers back. Only for Vincent to point out that he looks a bit ill. He shakes his head, saying he’s alright, and Vincent squeezes his hand in comfort before letting go. The two of them are interrupted by Lacy once more.

 “So are you two fucking or something?” Unfortunately for Victor, Vincent was mid-taking a sip of his drink as he doubled over coughing in his face, nearly spitting it on him. His whole face is beat red. Victor takes a moment concerned for his friend but quickly answers. 

 “I’m not gay,” he says, annoyed at the sudden accusation. “Vincent and I have been close friends since high school, is all. You shouldn’t ask something like that suddenly,” Victor says, handing his friend napkins, who takes them in appreciation, wiping his face. 

 “That’s not what I asked, pretty boy, but I get it—tough subject.” Lacy takes out a pocketbookin his coat, writing down an address and handing it to Victor. “Swing by tonight even if it’s just for a few drinks. I would like to hear any stories you’ve come up with, but it’s up to you.” And with that, Lacy gets up, walking to his cousin as they exit the parlor, leaving Victor and Vincent alone. 

 After a moment of what Victor thinks is silence, he realizes Vincent is talking to him. “So what are you going to do?” It takes him a minute to answer; he couldn’t pass up this opportunity. His best chance of finding evidence was to go to the address given to him. It was clear that he would be following the killer and putting his life in danger, which is why when he brushed the gun that was held in his coat pocket, he felt slight reassurance. 

 “I have to go. I don’t expect you to come with me, but it’s the only chance I have at finding some real evidence.” Victor says with newfound determination.

 “And you think that’s the guy behind everything, right?” Vincent asks, referring to Lacy as Victor, nods confirming his suspicions. Vincent let out a breath that he didn’t know he was holding, shaking his head in contemplation. “Eres mas problematico de lo que vale’s. Of course I’m coming, but we leave when it gets dangerous,” Vincent says, standing up and getting ready to take on the adventure that even Victor himself was unsure about taking; he couldn’t help but admire his friend’s confidence. As they hailed a yellow cab to go to their destination, they hoped to find some answers. 

Chapter 19

When the two of them got to the house, they couldn’t help but be shocked with how huge the residence was; there was no way a news reporter was making a salary enough to pay for this. As if reading their mind, Lacy greeted them, “I’m glad you two could make it. This is my father’s estate; I inherited it when he passed, and of course, it being as big as it is, I let my dear old cousin stay, especially with everything going on.” 

 “I’m not a charity case,” Joe grumbled, looking as bored about this situation as possible. 

 “Never said that, Joe. Now come in, you two. I’ll lead you to the drinks I promised, of course,” Lacy said, putting an arm around Victor, leading him and Vincent to the dining room area. To anyone else, perhaps they would be grateful for the gesture and try to impress what appeared to be a kind , humble, rich man. But Victor had chills; he wasn’t fond of Lacy’s touchiness, as the black aura that surrounded the man felt ever so strong and the closer Lacy got to him the sicker Victor felt. As in sensing Victor's uncomfortableness, Lacy excused himself as he went to go grab drinks for the lot of them. 

 As soon as Lacy left, Joe was quick on his side: “I don’t know what you think you’re doing, but it’d be in your best interest to leave quickly.” 

 “Is that a threat? If you don’t have anything to hide, you shouldn’t be worried, right?” Victor whispered back as Lacy entered the room again, drinks in hand—three, to be exact—which he handed to Victor, Vincent, and himself. “Joe, you know where the drinks are; I only have so many hands,” Lacy says, ushering Joe off as the three of them took their seats. “So Victor Joe tells me this is your last day to find any evidence against the old parlor.” 

 “Yes, and I’m not too keen on talking about it until the report is out,” Victor says, trying to shut the conversation down, but Lacy simply chuckles. 

 “Well, if you do find anything good, good on you. But I think it’s a shame that the old parlors are getting such a bad reputation over what? A few kidnappings? I’m hoping it all blows over eventually.” 

 “If you don’t mind me asking, why are you so fond of that parlor in particular?” Vincent says, suddenly breaking Victor out of his trance, and remembering his friend was there, he would have to be careful despite the anger he was feeling, knowing this killer was clearly taunting him on his lack of evidence. 

 “Well, I get to meet feisty people like your friend here; they’re always my favorite to play with,” Lacy says unnervingly as Vincent was going to call him out on his unhinged comment. Lacy began to laugh, startling them both. “You should see the looks on your faces. No, in all honesty, I could give a damn what happens to the parlor; I just don’t want people to paint false narratives, is all,” he says, staring directly at Victor. 

 “Guilty conscience, maybe? What false narrative would I paint exactly?” Victor says frustratedly, earning a serious look from Lacy. His false niceness was starting to break; Victor could feel it. And just as he was going to say something again, Vincent spoke up. 

 “I noticed you had a nice patio when we arrived. Do you mind if I and Vic take a quick smoke to cool down a bit? Things feel a bit intense.” Lacy shoots him another false smile, directing them to the patio. As soon as the two of them are by themselves, with no Lacy in sight, Victor immediately jumps on his friend for interrupting him. 

 “Victor, you need to calm down. Interrogating who you think is a killer isn’t going to help you find answers; it’ll help you end up in a body bag or jail or worse,” Vincent says rationally. Victor knew this; he knew he was letting Lacy get under his skin, so he took the time to breathe and address the situation. 

 “What do you suggest I do then, Vincent? He’s right; I only have today to find something out, and he’s taunting me with the fact that I have nothing in my face,” Victor says, letting the night air attempt to cool his frustrations down. 

 “Ok, here’s what we’re going to do.” 

---

 “I really have to use the bathroom,” Victor says, interrupting Lacy’s rants on how small businesses should be appreciated more because of the types of people they collect. He shoots Victor an unimpressed look at the interruption. 
 
 “Oh, Victor, I remember you had that burger too with extra cheese. I knew it would fuck with your stomach, you being lactose and all. You’ll probably be in the bathroom for hours,” Vincent says, adding to his claim mainly to buy Victor more time, but he couldn’t help but shoot his friend a look at his terrible acting skills, making it seem like the two of them were something, which they definitely were. But instead of being suspicious, Lacy just smiled confidently as if he knew Victor wouldn’t find anything. 
 
 “It’ll be down the hall to your left.” Lacy pointed as Victor stood up. Joe came back with his drink, giving him a look, but said nothing as he sat next to Vincent. Victor shot Vincent one last apology look (for leaving him alone with potential killers) before heading off. The problem with trying to look for clues in an estate with limited time is. Well, there were too many rooms to look for with limited time. As he turned the corner, he began to quietly open some rooms, perhaps looking for the master room. If a killer were to hide something in a big estate, most likely he’d keep it close, he figured. After about four open rooms and no master room, he sighed as he realized there was still an upstairs he had to explore. “I’m never going to find anything,” he said, muttering more to himself when something caught his eye. A white dress—a small glimpse of it—but Victor saw it and quickly followed it, realizing it was a female ghost, a different one. Was she leading him to evidence? Victor sure hoped so as he quickly followed the spirit, who led him to one particular room and stood in front of it. 

 “This is it, huh?” Victor asked the ghost but received no answer as she stood staring at the door with no intention of moving. “Guess I’m on my own then,” he says, passing through the ghost opening and quietly shutting the door behind him. As he took a look around the room, he instantly could spot it out as the master's (he knew it): a large lighting feature hung above the oversized plush bed with oversized linen. The carpeting was just as plush as the bedding, and the wall paneling was partnered with roses. The room was clearly kept up, and nothing stood out to him. He began to look through the tables on the side of the bed, finding a few pictures. Jewelry again, nothing groundbreaking. He looked through the end table again at very high-class watches, which he found very stupid to leave out, but again this wasn’t going to help him find anything. Frantic, he began to look through the bed, under it, in the pillowcases, closets, and shoes. Nothing, nothing, nothing. He turned around, thinking of anywhere else that he could possibly look, only to be met with the female ghost again, staring at a section of paneling. “What are you looking at?” he says, coming near her only to hear Vincent was speaking loudly, not close enough but not too far either, as a warning. Shit. 

 “I’m telling you, Victor is very lactose. You should just give him a few more minutes; I’m sure he’s fine.” 

 “It’s been over thirty minutes. If his stomach problems are that bad, he should appreciate the digestive tablets that I have in my room; they should help his stomach.” Lacy’s voice is a little more clear as Victor is now aware he’s making his way towards his room. Shit shit shit, what was the ghost trying to show him? It was just a wall. Maybe a hidden room? He began to tap the wall; perhaps it would push in nothing. 

 “Victor’s not too fond of those; we should just wait,” again Vincent says, trying to distract Lacy, but still he wasn’t budging. 

 “Well, I’d rather hear that from him personally, plus these are really expensive. I’m sure he’s fine—” Victor drowned out Lacy’s voice as he looked closely at the wall, inspecting it, and then finally, out of the corner of his eye, he realized one of the rose patterns from the wall was slightly sticking out. As he pulled on the rose, the door began to open. Inside was a cabinet. Victor noticed small plastic bags inside with pictures of the missing people and locks of their hair here. Pieces of their clothes were there like they were trophies of this sick bastard’s game. Victor, too fixated on his now clear-as-day evidence, didn’t realize the door behind him had opened. 

 “Ah, you found it,” Lacy says, gaining Victor’s attention as his once-clear mask is now on his face. And the true face of the killer was shown.

Notes:

Yall new story im so excited for this one. The only thing is the chapters are still kinda short idk how to make them appear longer cuz I seear it seems like I’ve written more than this but apparently not😭😭😭 anyways I have this idea in my head for this and a direction I’m going to take it and I’m so excited also I can’t wait until you guys see 1. Radiostatic Interaction of course and 2. How the last and present correlate❤️💙❤️💙