Chapter Text
Cross woke up to her mattress being tipped sideways and had to grab on so she didn’t get dumped onto the floor.
Allen stood at the foot of the bed, looking impatient. At thirteen, he didn’t look like he'd gained a single ounce of muscle since he was ten, but, under his neatly buttoned up shirts, he was surprisingly strong.
“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” she said, trying to wake up and gather as much dignity as possible.
‘Have the kid start showing some spine,’ she’d said. ‘It’ll be funny,’ she’d said. And now she had a brat who was polite to everyone but her and Nea.
“I got breakfast, took care of the Grudge, finished the paperwork, and packed,” he said. “The plane leaves in an hour so stop being lazy.”
Sure enough, their bags were packed besides her jacket hanging on the door. It had been ironed too. Despite all Allen complained, he always did every part of his job and more. Weren’t kids supposed to pretend to be obedient and then act out behind your back? Not talk shit while double checking the sums on your paperwork?
Ugh, she wanted to just stay in Brazil another week and have a proper Christmas vacation. She could relax a bit, send Allen out to busk while she hit the bar, but the dead didn’t give vacations.
“Why didn’t you wake me earlier?” she asked.
“You’re an adult, aren’t you? Set an alarm.”
Despite barely having grown, Allen’s pants had gotten short around the ankles and Cross could see little bite marks from Timcanpy. It must’ve been a bad night. Timcanpy didn’t bite hard enough to draw blood unless Allen wasn’t coming out of it.
“What?” Allen asked, following Cross’ gaze. “These pants are fine. I’m not buying new ones.”
“You look like a Victorian urchin. People’ll think I don’t take any care of you,” she grumbled, feeling around for her jacket with her eyes half closed.
“You don’t. If you can’t handle ripped pants, you pay for the new ones. I’m the only reason you have any money.”
“Learning to handle your own money is good for you.”
That set the boy off grumbling. Cross ignored him as she brushed out her hair and grabbed her bags.
Allen put on his sunglasses. Funnily enough, that always made people think Tim was a seeing eye dog, even though he didn’t wear that weird back handle, so Cross wasn’t sure exactly how people thought he was guiding Allen.
They were just past security when Cross got a text from Reever.
[Emergency grudge incident in Australia. The entire town’s been evacuated and they’re hoping to get as many pros as possible.]
Cross looked over to where Allen was relacing his boots. She’d never say it in front of him, but he was damn good for his age. Unfortunately, Allen was also vulnerable. If his soul got pulled into a Grudge, there’d be nothing Tim could do. The body might well die before Cross could disperse the Grudge enough to get him out.
Besides, it would be swarming with Exorcists. Even leaving him a town away was a risk.
“Brat?”
“Allen,” the boy corrected.
“Whatever. You’re flying alone. I need to deal with some shit without the luggage.”
“Okay, Master.”
It was his first time flying alone, but Allen looked a bit excited by the idea.
“Portia’s already expecting me in, so stay with her and don’t give her too much trouble. Keep up your exercises too, got it?”
She was sitting at the gate when she got a text.
[Master, I don’t have any money.]
[already boarded. youll be fine.]
Cross turned her phone off and went to get coffee while she waited for her flight.
Of course the damn Grudge was in the middle of the outback. Because if you had to spend days doing hard labor, it was always going to be scorching hot or pissing rain.
The thing had eaten the whole town and the border of it was crowded with low level Exorcists. None of them could get close, but they made their salt lines and talismans They held a shaky border against a threat they couldn’t even see.
The brief attributed this Grudge not to any major tragedy, just a remote location where the Grudge had been allowed to build and build.
“Who’s here?” Cross called, staring into the darkness. A case like this you could expect the same few names. Best case, it was Cloud. She would rather give Cross a stab wound than a date, but that was part of her charm. She also eliminated grudges properly.
Worst case, you got Socollo, who’d kick the grudge over ten feet, claim he’d fixed it, and call you a pussy for doing your job properly.
“Cross! Tiedoll’s been inside the Grudge three hours. Nobody’s seen him!” an exorcist shouted from the side.
Tiedoll. Ugh. That was almost as bad as Socallo. The man was a good medium, but at what price?
“Got it,” Cross said with a wave, then pushed past the barrier and into the Grudge. She hated that feeling, knowing everyone at the sides could still see you, at least a bit, and you were blind to them.
They would have felt it though, choking their lungs, giving them whatever kind of death or madness lurked inside. This one felt like violence. It pulled on every aggressive instinct in Cross, from petty cruelty to righteous vengeance.
She felt so aware of the crowd at her back, deifying, judging, looking for easy solutions while they smeared Grudges around like sharpie on a whiteboard.
She growled and drew Justice. The shot split the darkness for a moment, letting her see a path down the street. There were a few corpses in the street from before, but it was no bloodbath. They must've gotten most of the town evacuated. That was a relief. A few days in this heat and corpses would stink.
First matter was finding Tiedoll. That meant shoving the grudge around and kicking down doors. It was hard work, but breaking and entering had a charm to it.
Froi Tiedoll was sitting in somebody’s living room. The room itself was practically clear, only a slight black smog leaking in through the cracks in the door and window. Tiedoll himself sat on the sofa, drawing the Grudge to his brush and painting the thick, black ink into a view of the street outside, as it would look on a beautiful day.
“You’re getting old,” Cross said. It wasn’t true. The man was midway through his thirties, but Cross still pictured the Tiedoll he’d met a decade ago, a happier, less weary man.
“Ah, Marian, close the door behind you please. You’re letting the Grudge in,” Tiedoll said. “I see you’re the same as ever.”
Two centuries younger, and Tiedoll still talked like he was gently scolding a nephew.
“I’ve made a good start at the heart here. Are you able to spool some ink for me?” Tiedoll asked.
Every fucking time there was a joint job, she was support.
She opened back up the door and grabbed a corner of the grudge.
Does this man see the state of the world? How can he be so slow? She could knock some sense into him. She twisted it, binding it together, forcing it to her will. The hypocrite, acting so kind when he’s as quick to sell a child to the greater good as anyone. Playing at a saint.
Grudges were such stupid things. She was a century too old to mistake a Grudge’s call for her own thoughts, but it kept feeding itself into her hands, thinking it could ensnare her. She passed the winding thread behind her, trusting Tiedoll to deal with it. Or that she’d hear the screaming if he couldn’t.
There was no way to see progress. Here at the heart of it, you could only keep a small pocket clear. The Grudge would rush towards them until it got thin enough to see through. Those outside would also keep herding it into the center, closing the circle in around them.
Time disappeared while you worked with grudges. She found corners to grab and twist and command. When the Grudge tried to press in, she’d give it a good shot to scare it off a bit, then get back to work.
When Tiedoll tapped her shoulder, she nearly punched him.
“Come take a break. I’ll make us some sandwiches,” Tiedoll said. It must have been quite a few hours, because the man looked exhausted. His curls were limp and sweat soaked.
“I don’t need to eat.”
“You won’t make an old man eat alone, will you?” he said with that annoying smile.
“Have you met me? Of course I would.” she said, but she did like to eat, so she followed him to the kitchen anyways. “Where are your brats?”
“Daisya’s no good with violence Grudges. He’s an energetic child. Noise is helping the exorcists at the barrier, and making sure they don’t get overexcited.”
He rifled through the strangers kitchen, eventually finding the ingredients for sandwiches fit only for rabbits.
“Rumor has it you’ve finally taken an apprentice of your own,” Tiedoll said casually as he sliced some dead bastard's vegetables.
Fucking rumor-mill of the supernatural world. Worse than old ladies at church, the lot of them.
“What would I want one of those for?”
“Well, that’s what everyone’s wondering. Suman Dark reckons you found yourself a prodigy, but I can’t see you being swayed by talent.”
Cross decided it would be best not to respond. If Tiedoll was the man that got Allen caught, she’d listen to the Grudge and kill him for real.
“I can’t imagine you being swayed by sentiment either. I’d love to meet your apprentice.”
“I’d love it if you stuck to failing to protect your own apprentices instead of making up mine.”
She returned to eating with a vigor that precluded conversation, then stomped over to the door and kicked at the smudges of Grudge that had started to fill the room as they rested.
Damn Grudge. She needed to check her phone, but there'd be no signal in this mess.
She couldn't hide Allen from the world forever. They both had work to do, and Cross' little cuckoo of an apprentice would be ready to fly the nest soon.
It should be a relief. She wanted it to be a relief.