Ask me no questions...

Chapter 8: Nightfall

Danger
We get back to Port Angeles by dusk. I'm tired of riding in the car, and weirdly numb. My father is quiet, he turns on the radio at my request, though he doesn't know any of the songs anymore than I do.
"We're going to meet my brothers. My youngest brother, Vincent he's going to help us with something, probably," he mutters.
"Doesn't he work at the school?" I ask. I think I remember him as a part of Freddy's very rapid orientation.
"Yeah. He's a literature teacher but —he was in med school. He dropped out and joined the Hunt. His wife, she got hurt bad, on the Hunt, he doesn't Hunt anymore. She's in a coma, that's why we're going to the hospital, he'll be there by now."
"That's sad," I say, softly.
"Yeah, it's bad."
He parks us on a fire lane, which I don't think is where we're intended to park. But I'm not about to give my unsolicited opinion.
Outside the hospital stands a man, with longish, dark hair. He looks nothing like my father. I recognize him from the school, he spoke to Freddy a little, just glanced at me. He seemed nice enough, though. At the moment he looks cross with his brother.
"Can you look through these for me? See if it's healthy or not? It's what his mom had him doing," my father says, handing my charts over.
"What? You think because I went to med school I automatically know what is or isn't healthy for a what twelve year old?"
"I'm fourteen."
"He's fourteen. And yes, yes I do think that. Come on, please?" My father sighs, "Please, Vince?"
"All right. I'll get it back to you," he stuffs it in his pocket.
"My mom might want those," I say.
"Yeah ah—yeah I'll get 'em back. Whatever. You coming in or anything?" He shrugs, frowning.
"No, sorry. I'll come Friday all right? I've got a lot back at the house, going on right now, actually," my father shrugs.
"Doesn't matter," he turns to walk away.
"It matters, Vince," my father sighs.
Vincent makes a rude gesture.
"Whatever, get in the car," my father says, shaking his head, "Don't mind him he's not—he's not cross with you, his in laws want him to pull the plug. He refuses. Spends every single night there, reading to her, talking to her."
"That's sad," I say, getting in the truck. I'm getting better at it now, I've got the hang of the seatbelt.
"Yeah it is," he says, turning on the windshield wipers. It's raining again. Maybe we'll go home and I can stand out in a while?
"Are we going home?" I ask.

Jason

"Not yet, no, we need to drop that laptop off, which means that you get to meet the smartest person on the planet, and also maybe my other brother," I say, glancing over at the kid.
"He's the one who teaches gym."
"I'm so so sorry but consider I grew up with him."
"He made us do pushups for like existing."
"Yeah that's him, ah, he's not so bad but his theory of parenting was a tired kid is a kid who can't burn the house down or escape."
"He raised you?" He frowns "What about your parents?"
"Oh yeah um. My mom, didn't want me and Jewel so much, when she found out our dad was cheating on her. Sort of complicated situation short, ah. Jack's oldest, good bit older than us, so he figured out that his dad had two other families going. My mom didn't want us, really, after that not with Jewel being a warlock. So, Jack took us in, not much later, we find out about Vincent. His mother lost custody, due to drugs, so Jack took him in too. He's not known other parents, I did, a little, like, our dad got us back now and then but primarily it was, yeah," I say, shaking my head, "It was just us for a while. He met Q on a hunt, Q's his husband, for whatever reason he ah accepted the whole pack of us."
"Q?"
"Yeah, that's what we call him, it's not his name but it's all we call him, from, you haven't watched those movies, it's from a movie," yeah I didn't know that for a really long time. As in until they actually legally got married like five or six years ago now, I fully believed his name was Q. Turns out. No it is not. It's something stupid and British I don't know what the fuck but it doesn't even begin with Q. Turns out, my moron brother met this too smart for his own good British kid, who was talking a mile a minute in that damn accent, and fixing his weapons and helping build incendiaries. And just started calling him Q. And for whatever reason, Q was like 'oh these Americans are idiots the one letter is probably all they can handle I'll leave that, poor creatures'. I'm sure the kids don't know. I don't even know properly what his name is I heard it, went it shock, and just retained the information that yeah that was what happened.
"What movie?" Danger asks.
"Have you—watched any movies?" I ask.
"I've seen Jaws."
"Your mom let you watch Jaws?"
"Now, I really didn't say that."
"Huh, good for you," I say.
"I was mad. She didn't come back for Christmas to pop popcorn so I ate a ton of food and downloaded a movie illegally," Danger says, nodding.
"Ah. Okay it's from the James Bond movies, and books."
"I see commercials for those on cable. I think. During Jeopardy."
"Maybe, we'll—you know what we're already feeding you and letting you wear something other than primary colors, we'll watch those anyway. It'll be good for you, Freddy hasn't seen Skyfall yet," I say.
"What's that?"
"One of the movies, don't worry we won't watch in order and several people will explain the characters to you at the same time."
"Okay," Danger nods, seriously.
"It'll be fun," I say, encouragingly. Poor child. Someone should watch TV with him. I used to watch all the Bond movies with Dashiell. I made a point of watching it in release order, when he was like fifteen and then every week for a year or something. It took us forever. But he enjoyed it.
We pull up to the house. Danger looks curiously up at the circular, heavily modified, cabin, with floor to ceiling windows. Several little dogs run in the yard, yipping. I did text Q we were coming.
"It's us," I call, knocking on the door.
"Productive day?" Jack gets the door, half in his button up shirt from school, not cleanly shaven. His eyes flick to Danger immediately, clearly weighing if this could be my kid or not.
"Ish, I've got a favor to ask your brain, where is he?" I ask.
"Living room, you missed school today, kid," Jack says.
"I was helping back up the house, I'll make it up tomorrow," Danger says.
"Don't offer that, no," I say.
"Sure you will. Come on, anyone given you a knife yet?"
"Just one."
"Come with me," Jack says, patting the boy's shoulder. Danger follows him willingly.
"Just no incendiaries," I say, dryly. Wouldn't be the first or third time he gave one of my kids some highly flammable device.
"He'll be fine," Jack says, "Come and see the garage. Need to get you some weapons for when the monsters start coming."
"Please don't," I mutter, going on to the living room.
In the living room, Q is seated on the sofa, laptop on his lap, another one on the ottoman, about four dogs lying with him.
"Hey," I say, coming over to sit down on the edge of the love seat.
"DNA tests came," Q says.
"I thought those were coming to my house?" I ask.
"They were. But the United States Postal Service informed me that you have not had a functioning mailbox since 2016," Q says, glaring at me through silver bangs, he puts a hand through his hair.
"Oh—wait I thought I fixed that—,"
"You did not."
"But I get mail—,"
"Your tax bill, electricity, and the kid's school things all come here."
"Then how does it get in my house?"
"I hand it to your brother, tell him to give it to you and suggest you get a mailbox, and he takes it there and apparently just sets it on the table. A lovely completely idiotic system I personally believe we should simplify by you actually functioning as a member of society and you and your lovely four working limbs and your three boys and their four lovely working limbs each— put up the mail box," Q says.
"Message received," I am going to be honest I'm never going to do that. Like I'm not gonna get to it. I have too much going on right now. "Sorry. And thanks."
"Here, it's rapid I thought you'd like that. We'll get the results in one to two days," he says, handing me the box.
I turn the sleek package over in my hands. A picture of a smiling mother and infant on it. Like, how do they think this is happy occasion? There is no happy need to get this test. I never once looked at my newborn son or daughter and thought now, time to do a scientific test that proves what I already know, that doesn't happen. Nobody does that. This is the stuff of custody battles.
I try to rip open the one side. It doesn't come. The box is all glued shut. I turn it over again looking for a notch.
Q takes it back, very disappointed in me, and very easily opens it.
"That's why you're the smart one in this family," I sigh.
"Yes, because I can read things like 'tear here', now this is your swab, inside your cheek, in that packet. Where's the boy?" He asks.
"Outside with your associate looking at sharp objects," I say, before stuffing the thing in my cheek. Easy. This is a very simple, very valid, way to prove it's not my kid. Good. Two days. Two days and Alex can quit looking at me like she wonders if she knows who I am.
"Oh, that's good for both of them then," Q says, taking my sample and putting it back in the package.
"I did come to ask another favor," I say, "I found Naomi's laptop at the house."
"Oh tell me you've brought it," Q says, holding out his cyber criminal hands hopefully.
"Oh yeah."
"So you do love me."
"Only a little, here, mac and power cord, and a DNA sample as requested, took her toothbrush," I say, taking it out of my backpack, "Also got the fabled birth certificate, big surprise I am on it."
"Hm," Q glances at the birth certificate, then set sets it with a stack of other papers on the glass coffee table, "Mind if I keep it?"
"No, go for it, and do your worst on the laptop. We've got no leads as to where she went," I say.
"Nothing in the house?" Q asks, raising an eyebrow. He's been on enough cases with me to know I know damn well how to search a house.
"She had a pack of condoms in the bedroom. But no signs of any overnight guests," I say, a bit quietly.
"So she's going out to have her fun. Going out clothes?" Q asks.
"And underwear, which makes whoever she was seeing our prime suspect in her disappearance at this point," I say, "Usually crimes like this are domestic."
"Ah but she's not an average girl is she? Girl's a hunter. Not too easy to overpower, more than used to a fist fight, more than used to losing a tail. She's not such an easy target," Q says.
"You're saying it's a member of the Hunt?" I ask.
"I mean, odds are," he shrugs, "That's who she's socializing with, right? Don't suppose the little one knows anything?"
"No, she always told him she was going to work. Which I mean do you tell your kids you're dating? That might be normal," I say.
"I mean, your brother brought me home, with you in the house," he shrugs a little.
"Yeah but we're us, and it's different telling your little brother you're seeing someone and asking him if he's gonna make something out of it. An adult trying to shelter a kid?" I ask.
"Touché, I suppose we get a pass there, you might not fully articulate you're off on a date. Easier to say work to the little fellow, she's clearly sheltering him, hardly wants a million questions, devil of it is doesn't tell us where she's gone. You were in the house, you saw the state of it, did she plan to leave for this long?" Q asks.
"She could have," I sigh, "She had everything damn set, the kid wasn't worried. Yeah, she'd prepped everything to disappear. But not for good. She intended to come back. Half used toothpaste, a few sets of earrings, plenty of clothes, no she thought she was gonna come home. She wasn't abandoning him."
"Doesn't get us anywhere. Supernatural or distressingly natural, her disappearance could have a million and one causes. So why do I feel like it's going to tie into something else?" Q frowns.
"I want it to, in a way, yet, I think the kid's better off," I say.
"That's a new low, Alex pack bonded to him yet?"
"Oh most definitely."
"Lovely, I'll text her later," Q says, as he plugs in Naomi's laptop, "Full charge, what, did she leave it on a power cord?"
"Yes."
"Put down crimes against electronics someplace."
"She was pretty technical. This is one of the many bugs I found, in her own bedroom," I say, holding up one of the little mics.
"What kind of suspicious bastard bugs their own bedroom?" Q frowns.
"Trying to keep the kid out?" I ask.
"You use a camera for that don't you? You can see it, if the kid's alone she's not gonna get any sound. What you're listening to all of it? No she thought someone was going to be talking in there. Or—,"
"She was talking to someone and wanted it recorded. She did bring someone back," I say.
Q nods, "Who is the question. Can I keep this?"
"Go for it."
"Go see my associate," is how Jack chooses to usher Danger back in. Danger basically bolts over to me, twisting his hands like he does.
"What'd you do, scare him?" I ask.
"Kid's good at doing push ups but is afraid of sharp objects," Jack says.
"I don't want to cut myself!" Danger whimpers, "We don't have any knives at my house, cause we don't want to draw the monsters."
"That's why you're holding a bat filled with nails?" I ask Jack.
"That's why I'm holding a bat filled with nails. Kid needs a weapon," Jack grunts.
"I know arming small children is one of your true passions but can you fetch me my green laptop, love? Dog's asleep," Q says, tipping his head up to look at Jack. There's a dog asleep on his hip, as well as another on the arm rest with it's little head on his arm, besides which fact he's out of his chair and settled on the couch he'd have to lift himself back in it.
"Yeah, stay—in the bedroom?" Jack asks, tipping Q's head back down.
"Yeah, probably, thanks—Danger, here, this is a DNA test because we're trying to determine who your father is," Q says, holding up his swab.
"You think my mom was lying too," Danger says, softly.
"I believe nothing without evidence. Here's our evidence," Q says, nicely.
Danger takes the swab willingly, competently reading the instructions on the packet before sealing it up.
"I assume you wanted the cords with it?" Jack returns carrying aforementioned green laptop.
"Yes, thank you," Q says, happily taking the bundle of electronics, to start hooking it up to Naomi's laptop.
"What are you doing?" Danger asks.
"Oh sorry, I'm simply ripping all the data from your mother's laptop—I'm cloning the hard drive, bit harder with Apple's security they like to vex me, however, I should be in in a couple of days," Q says.
"Wasn't—the FBI unable to hack into Apple? Or something?" I ask.
"Shh," Q says.
"He means thank you for the opportunity to once again prove his intellectual superiority to everyone," Jack says, putting a hand through Q's hair, but mostly straightening it.
"Shut up," Q says, without malice, opening the green laptop, "If that was all you needed, Jason?"
"Yeah, yeah, ah, we're going to get home. And drop this in the mail," I say, holding up the DNA test.
"Good luck," Jack nods, but he's looking at the kid, not me. He can't fully look at me.
That DNA test can't come back fast enough.