Pendergast’s POV


He was sitting in the back of an ambulance when I arrived, covered in blood and for his sake I hoped some of it was his own. An EMT was holding a stethoscope to his chest and checking his blood pressure. He sat there patiently, staring off into space, his dark sunglasses perched on top his curly black hair. He hadn’t noticed me yet and I took the opportunity to just watch him.

At the beginning of the day, I was sure Halo Spencer’s shirt had been white but now, as it was nearing 6pm, his shirt had turned crimson in places and pinkish in others with the blood that covered him. His faded jeans and Converse sneakers were blood stained as well, nearly caked in the stuff. The officer that called me on his behalf hadn’t told me anything of the situation, only that a former FBI agent had requested my presence. I had arrived as quickly as I could; I never knew what the situation could bring when Halo asked for my help.

“I’m going to...   read more »

1st person POV

She’d called me around 11pm, somehow knowing I was still awake. She’d said she just needed to see me if I wasn’t too worn out or too busy with other things. I wasn’t so I went to her, not knowing what to expect. They say you should expect the unexpected but then you’re always caught off guard for the things that are really unexpected. So I expected nothing, it was safer for myself and anyone else involved.

She greeted me at the door, arms sliding around my shoulders uncharacteristically. I said her name softly and she told me to hush. She didn’t want me to talk; she wanted me to hold her. So I did, sliding my own arms around her waist as I backed her into the room, closing the door with my foot.

Her long brown hair was down and I found my hands being drawn to it, I wanted to slide my fingers through it. When she didn’t stop my wandering touches, I started to tense. I wasn’t sure where this was going and I really wasn’t sure where I wanted it to go. Her...   read more »

I swung my gun hand, making sure to hit Diogenes hard enough to knock him out and it connected with his forehead. It was only fair, considering what he’d done to Charles. Proctor caught him before he could fall onto me and dosed him with god-only-knew what to keep him unconscious until I decided otherwise. I helped Proctor maneuver him to the wall, where I’d installed shackles the day before.

Dear brother was heavier than I’d expected him to be and Proctor had to help me while I shackled his wrists above his head. I gave him enough slack to take most of the weight off his shoulders but not enough for him to reach out to touch me. He’d grown over the years, four inches taller than me, and so much wider through the shoulders and chest than he’d been when we were children

“Sir,” Proctor said at my side. “What do you need of me?”

“Just hang back over there,” I said,...   read more »

Charles watched him sleep.

Aloysius lay curled up tightly beside him; face as expressionless as always, even in sleep. But he still looked peaceful. His back was to the wall and he was painfully vulnerable, Charles didn’t dare touch him; Aloysius had reflexes like a viper. And he was significantly more dangerous. But he wouldn’t be waking up anytime soon, the doctors had given him something for the pain and something else to help him sleep.

I should change the bandage... Charles thought, taking the younger man’s forearm into his hand

Blood had soaked through just a little, and he wondered if Aloysius would wake if he changed it. “Hey Al,” He whispered. “I’m going to change this for you; just sleep, I won’t hurt you Al.”

Some suicide watch, he thought. I leave...   read more »

Pale silver blue eyes slowly fluttered open, taking in every detail of where he was in a single blink. He was on an overstuffed sofa, a pillow under his head and a thick blanket thrown over him. There was a wooden ceiling fan above his head, slowly spinning, its lights were on but still very dim. He lifted his head up; saw an entertainment center with a 24 inch TV and numerous pictures on the shelves surrounding it. There were four windows in the room, their blinds down but opened slightly to allow airflow.

A door shut with a bang somewhere near by. The...   read more »

The young FBI agent Halo Spencer looked out the side of his sunglasses to the older agent seated beside him. The other agent’s hair was white-blonde, contrasting to a completely black suit that was tailored to his too-thin frame. His eyes were silver like a Husky’s and his skin was pale to the point of transparency but not sickly in any way. His lips pressed into a disapproving line as he looked down at the case file on the table between them. Halo studied his profile in the half-dark of twilight and thought maybe he was an angel. It took him a moment to remember he’d stopped believing in angels.

Fine then,He decided. He’s a sculpture come to life or a god once sent to earth and then forgotten. Whatever, it doesn’t matter. Today, he’s just my boss.

“What do you make of this Agent Spencer?” He asked in a voice unlike any he’d ever heard outside of movies. His accent was deep and in the buttery tones of the Deep South, he guessed maybe Louisiana, Alabama or one of the other Southern states.

Halo took his eyes off the other agent’s face for the first time in maybe thirty minutes to...   read more »

The inability to sleep is never for the lack of trying. Pendergast often wondered if his inability to love was for the lack of trying. Love had evaded him the same way that sleep had, even as he laid comfortably in Margo Green’s arms, he felt the ache of emotional emptiness. He’d come to a conclusion earlier that night that Margo wasn’t in love with him, oh she did love him but it was something closer to lust. She was in love with the idea of being in love and to Pendergast it wasn’t the same thing.

...But he had no high ground to throw any ‘moral stones’ from. He’d only felt love for one person in his life... He’d thought he’d loved Charles Duchamp and maybe at the time he had, but then after the shock of his parents deaths had worn off and he’d come back to himself, Charles had tried to use sex as comfort. That had been his first taste of lust and it had ended their sexual relationship.

Helen, his late wife, had been the only one he was...   read more »

Constance Greene sat in her favorite chair in the mansion at 891 Riverside Drive; she was writing in her journal. Categorizing the events of her day and the emotions that came with them. She heard the front door close; Aloysius Pendergast was home and she heard his shoes drop to the floor.

But wait— She thought. If he’s wearing them why did they drop? They wouldn’t drop if he was wearing them, only if he was carrying them and then let them fall or if—

Constance shut her journal and rose, poking her head cautiously out the door, finding nothing in the immediately hallway, she crossed to the banister overlooking the foyer. Pendergast stood in the hall, his jacket wrapped around a willowy boy with pale blue hair. He held the boy in his arms while Proctor took a backpack from his shoulder and sat it by the door.

“I thought she’d like to stay with me for a little while,” Pendergast whispered, carefully unwrapping the figure Constance had thought to be a boy. But now that she could see better she noticed the full red lips and long dark lashes; not a boy child but a rather androgynous...   read more »