Apollo lugged his body through the snowed forest, the large black overcoat on him. He had against his chest, with a wide single arm grip, some wood for kindling. As if a crow, stepping and teetering with the small plaything twig in its mouth. He was coming back home, to the quaint house with the red panel walls, with the snow clinging on the lips of the window sills. He approached the door, and to it, next to it, he saw the worst thing he could have seen.

The Leper, with his smiling, golden, etched mask, waving back at Apollo.

I was just getting used to this place. He dropped his sticks and looked next to him, a smaller, prideful looking woman with a large ponytail down half-way her back glared at him. It seemed worse than the smiling lunatic.

He came to them and the dear, a stick dragged by his fingertip before it fell like a tired soldier upon the snow.

He felt the air escape his body, his mouth open to try and catch it back before releasing completely. Surrendering.

“Well? Are you coming in?”

“Well, I thought you’d never ask!” The Leper said.

♣

Apollo sat at the table opposite of them all. His eyes honed on the Leper who stood against the wall.

"Bonjour, Rose," The Leper said to the nun. The nun nodded. Out of obligation, for her face was dull and dead with emotion.

"Do you want some coffee?" Dion asked the woman. "It's very good."

Apollo took a sip from a steaming mug in front of him.

"It's average." He said.

Dion frowned. They stood, amongst the sounds of moving and clashing plates as Dion set the table for them. Apollo, still in his small chair as the Leper stared down and the woman looked opposite the table, with thin-lipped intensity. She was blonde, had stockings, and showed little behind her bearskin coat. Her eyes were focused, her face unmoved like a practiced poker player. She had stockings, funnily enough, he could see by the little ankle she showed. Her shoes were pointed and he wondered, looking at her high-heels, how she had climbed a mountain with them.

Rubbing his chin, looking at her. He changed, he was more disgusted, frankly, by her. By the classy-ness of her essence. She dressed rich. Smelled rich. Was rich. Disgusting.

"Why are you here?" Apollo asked both of them.

"You’re as warm as usual" The Leper took a cup from Dion. "After I saved your life too."

The Leper took a sip (quite a scene, to move the liquid straight into the little slit on his mask). Nodded his head and set it down, presumably, never to pick it up again.

"Months ago I might have been thankful," He said "But now I've lived long enough to know what shit place you've stuck me. Out one prison, in another."

The Leper started to laugh. Air whistled through the holes of his mask like some great wide-mouthed fish, taking all fauna and small creatures with his giant gulps.

"It’s worse than prison. Worse than hell!" He laughed. “It's Rothenburg!”

Apollo leaned back in his chair, the sun warmed his neck. He rubbed it.

The woman moved from her seat, at last, to switch one leg forward in her cross-legged seating. From left, to right. The whole movement made the chair whine.

"These idiots don't look capable." The woman tapped the table with her fingernails. "I told you I wanted the best."

The Leper clasped his hands in consolidation, in prayer, in hope (as all prayer was just that, hope).

"They’re fine men, believe me." He said. “And the only Hospitallers we have available.”

"We're not Hospitallers," Apollo said.

"What?" She asked.

"Don't mind him." The Leper pleaded.

"And who are you calling an idiot, anyway? You bit - " The word was formed, but looking at the nervous smile of Dion, he stopped.

"Easy, please." His voice (Dion's) more a whisper.

The woman crossed her arms, the nun came around with some sweet rolls. Nutmeg, cinnamon, warmness filled the air. She was reliable, staunch. But even her attempt at warmness, hospitality, was not enough for Apollo who felt colder by the second. Frigid, even. For across from her, the blizzard sat in her seat, with her measured and quiet anger. Rote, and bitter.

"Who are you?" Apollo repeated. This time, more conversational.

"I'm Aenea."

"Aenea, huh," Apollo said. "What do you want?"

"Capable men for an investigation task force."

"Ah. Ah. Ah. Hold on, allow me to inform them." The Leper came in. "Miss Aenea is in a sour mood, so I thought I'd divulge the details, ease you into it, you see."

She sat there without blinking, without moving. Her skin was pale, not out of fear, but out of life itself.

"I've requested the both of you for this case in consideration from your previous ones, at Havenbrook. Apollo, who has experience investigating, and Dion who is a wonderful support. And a bit encyclopedic, when you aren't full of buffoonery, of course."

He sounds like the devil, act like it too. He sipped and burned his tongue.

"Get to the point." He flinched and set down his cup. The cat-shaped clocked ticked away in the background.

Aenea wriggled in her seat. She looked at the Leper who nodded his head. She set her hands down, wrapped together, into a ball in front of her.

"My father has been murdered." No one made a sound, not a whisper or a gasp and the clock too, as if caught in the grip of the silence, had ceased. Apollo waited. Holding the cup, tipping it without noticing, dripping the boiling sludge down the side of his finger, not without noticing.

"Oh my god," Dion said. "Get the police. Get the armed forces or something."

"She can’t," Apollo said. “She would have if she could have."

"Still, what a terribly frightening thing to go through. What can we do?"

"Be her detectives," Apollo answered.

"Oh," Dion said.

Oh, is right.

"I have some questions, then," Apollo said. "What are your connections with the church? Assuming you know of demon hunters, of Vicars, of the order...well, that makes you a bit strange then. That strangeness, your background, is something important to me."

She shook the bangs off her face.

"We're Häxans." She said. The nun put her hand across her face and left the room in a gasp. Her rosary dangled like a chain.

"A witch" Apollo leaned closer. Silence answered him. “A whole Salem lot of devil-worshiping sons of bitches?”

"Yes, a witch, that's the colloquial term for it, I guess." She straightened out. "I belong to a family of witches. The Wolfe family."

"Oh no, oh no," Apollo rubbed his forehead. "That explains everything. The Wolfe family. Oil tycoons with a nice little side business in casinos? I heard you had an accident down the coast of the Gulf of Mexico. Saw it in the news, shrimp literally drowning in sludge. Hurt your reputation, didn't it? Did it your casinos hard?”

“No, it did not.” She said. “The people play games whether or not the world is on fire. Maybe it’s because it is on fire that they even play in the first place”

She rubbed her hands. "It's not my business anyway. I don't deal like my family does, I do things on my own without their help or approval."

"Yeah, that explains everything.” Apollo laughed and looked at Dion, who smiled without knowing why. “A rich family of witches. That's why you aren't being burned in front of my face right now. How much money did you have to throw at the church to allow you walk all over them?"

The Leper laughed.

"Please, Apollo. Have a higher opinion of us, would you?" Dion asked.

"I can't have a high opinion towards the rich and the powerful. For it is them, most of all, susceptible to corruption. And them, most of all, who deserve criticism. Case in point, the walking witch in front of us, who's not getting an ounce of resistance from us."

"If you're that annoyed by me, then strike me down."

"Don't worry sweetheart, I've got no problem with you. I'm not even surprised."

“I'll have you know that peace, good moral standing, and a Christian father,"

"You had a Christian father?" Apollo laughed.

"Yes - My Christian father, had more to do with my being safeguarded from your psychopathic cult than money ever could.” She said.

"Sure as hell didn't hurt, did it? The millions?" He observed her. "The tens of millions? The hundred of millions?" She nudged her nose. Hundreds of millions, huh.

"Money bought my freedom. That's a sad thing, don't you think? To be burdened at birth by a history you never wanted." She said. "I had to buy my freedom, think about that, Vicar, as you talk down to me."

No one said a word save for the Leper who breathed, whistled through his mask.

She leaned in. She wore no makeup, her face had a natural sharp beauty to it. Something intimidating. Something, still feminine but bordering masculine. A small, angled jaw, two big blue eyes, deep contours and groves from her intense gaze.

"Money saved me from being burned alive,” she said. “Would you prefer that, savage? Like the good ol’ days. Or would you rather drown me? Reduce me to screaming ash? Wring my neck and have me tap dance in free air?"

"I didn't kill any of your people." He said. "That being said, don't pretend all of your kind were as understanding, as moral, as 'Christian' as you are now. You are a witch, after all, someone who makes deals with devils."

"Or people cursed by devils." Aenea said. "Is it any worse than what you do? Cutting the chests of children open and stuffing them with a demon’s heart? Into children. Children. Is that more moral? If so, how? You conduct in violence as we do. You conduct with devils, as we do. It just happened that you had more manpower, more organization."

Apollo leaned back. He had no answer. He tried to look at the other two Vicars, who felt even worse than he did. They were quiet, lacking in his lively defense though they were of the same kind. And after a while, Apollo stretched his leg, looked at her, felt the mood.

Why even debate it? It's not like I like this job. It's not like I don't know that she's right. He accepted it. It wasn't hard that hard to once he let go of his contempt.

A sip. Bitterness. He drank the rest of his coffee as he waited for the mood to settle back to something tamer.

"A couple fire trials, some purging and now we're here." He said. "With you asking for help. It's hard to imagine your kind was ever a threat, to be honest."

"Am I supposed to be insulted?" She was still. Uneasily, still. "I'm not a witch, idiot. I just happen to have them as family, that's all."

Right. He sniffled. The cold was biting his nose, stinging it.

"I bet you think you're hot shit, but I have you figured out." His muffled voice spoke between sips of his mug. She angled her head to the side. The other two looked with curiosity, the Leper more so than Dion. "You’re a girl trying very hard to not be plain."

"Am I plain?"

"No," He said. "You're definitely a no-bullshit type of person. Which is rare.”

“And you're a narcissist." She said.

"But am I wrong?"

"No, you're not." She tapped the table.

The Leper nodded up and down.

"He's capable, don't you think. Not that dumb, right?"

"What about the other one?" She pointed to Dion.

"I can fight." He smiled. Apollo looked at his smile, which to them must have seemed authentic, but to him, was extremely fragile. So much so in fact, that he had to protest.

"Who said we agreed to this?" Apollo said. They turned to him, in shock almost. "What are we getting out of this venture?

"I mean, she's in trouble, that's enough right?" Dion asked. His conviction seemed weak, not like before, not like when he was selfless and heroic and noble. Now, it seemed a shadow and him, right down the damn middle of it.

"You'll get the only thing that matters!" The Leper walked forward, he put both hands on the table and stretched his head to both sides as mediator. "Your life back!"

Both stared at him, Aenea sat with her arms crossed and eyes closed, uninterested.

"You were right when you said the church was corrupt and right when you said that Miss Aenea pays them off, at least, her family does.” They nodded up and down. "And what is the benefit of corruption? Hmm? The belittlement of democracy, of course!"

"Sure, that's right."

"That's a good thing. Because Miss Aenea here, or her family at least, has connections with some of those officials. Officials that may or may not be observing your application, who may or may not have the power to vote or veto your migration. You understand, right?"

"So…” He felt his temples compress again, he rubbed them. “We’re being coerced?”

"Yes, yes you are." The Leper laughed. Jovial. "But also rewarded. You have a chance to finally redeem yourself and to join the Hospitallers, officially. That should get the grasp of the nasty low-class trash off you. You'll be free men as Hospitaller Knights. Doesn't sound bad, right? You might find you'll have even greater freedoms than before. Fewer weapon restrictions...travel restrictions...a bit more, rule-bending..."

He looked at Dion, as if in the knowledge of something. Dion looked back, nervously smiling. A fake smile, Apollo observed, one that grew more severe and grave. A face that seemed in remembrance of a time with Astyanax. One, that reacclimated Dion to that past pain and trauma. And soon, he was not smiling at all so much as staring empty-eyed, dull face.

He needs more time with Stefanie. Apollo banged the table to grab their attention, to snap Dion out of it, to have him answer.

"Do you want to do it?" Apollo asked. Dion looked back to him, his lips kind of trembling.

"Yeah. We have to, right? Or it’ll be our heads next." His voice puttered, seemed nervous, anxious.

"But can you do it?"

He hesitated. He looked out the window, perhaps to his lover, who was distant and far off into the city, trying to walk with rail guards (as Dion had explained to him one late evening), to a pleasant place that now stirred in his face a look of nostalgia. Nostalgia for a time, for a girl, that he was sure Dion would have to leave. Even if just for a moment, and hopefully, just for a moment.

"Yeah. I can do it." Dion said, his face, serious.

Apollo sighed and looked at the two.

"What’s the threat level of this case?” He asked.

"Danger? There is no danger." Aenea's legs untwisted. "The danger passed. My father is dead. All you have to do is point the finger, we’ll do the catching part.”

Her sentences came quick, in successive blows, as if trying to hide something between the letters themselves, the sound. A lie.

"Place? Time? How long do we have?"

"A month or two or three. We’ll see, depending on your progress." The Leper mused.

"A few months? It takes years for some detectives. Years!" Apollo drew his head back. Dion covered his mouth and bemoaned.

"The problem isn’t in the time allotted to the case, it’s in the time allotted to your lives.” He said. “You have a second court hearing, I have news of it?"

"Second? For what?"

"For sabotaging your previous court hearing, of course. You're getting a re-trial."

Oh no, they both said. Oh, no.

"That means you need to become Hospitallers before then, and before then is however long I can distract the judges and tribunals."

He looked at the Leper, standing with his hands his back. His eyes shifty looking, thin behind the little holes, some purple showing.

I've only ever seen that look with snakes. Before the bite comes.

“Then it's settled,” Dion said. "We'll accept."

Apollo turned. His eyes closed, his brain trying to shake away anxiety, trying to focus on mantras and meditation.

"Alright," He opened his eyes, renewed them with keen focus. "Start at the beginning, tell us everything you know."

She took a deep breath and started.