Chapter Text
“Titan, I'm coming, I'm coming!” Darius snapped, squinting against the light as he flipped on the switch. He stumbled across his living room carpet in his pajamas before he wrenched open the front door mid-ring, lightning flashing through the cracks in the curtains. “What?!”
For a moment, Darius didn't see anything but rain and stars.
Then he looked down.
Before him stood a sopping wet blonde child that he had never met before. His eyes were intense, suspicious, and bright pink. He vaguely registered that he had only ever met one other person with pink eyes.
“Uh,” he said as his brain chugged slowly through options for how he should respond. “Hello?”
“Are you Darius Deamonne?” asked the boy, giving him a scrutinizing look. He held a child-sized wooden staff in one hand and he was dressed for travel outdoors. He was also filthy. Darius wouldn’t be surprised if he hadn't bathed in a week– other than whatever the rain was doing for him.
“Uh,” Darius repeated. By the time his brain caught up to the question he had already answered it. “Yes.”
The child crossed his arms and narrowed his eyes. “Prove it.”
“Excuse me?” Darius scoffed.
“How do I know you're really Darius?” the boy demanded.
Darius snapped out an arm to the side to reform into a blade of abomination matter, his body rippling as it transformed. "I assure you, I am he.”
“Hmmm,” the boy said suspiciously, giving him a long, hard look.
“Okay?” Darius prompted eventually.
The child brightened and stood up straight. “Okay!”
With that, he shoved right past Darius and marched into his house.
“Excuse me?!” Darius balked as he spun on a heel. “What do you think you're doing?!?”
“Coming inside, duh!” The boy dropped his backpack on the carpet and began wriggling out of his wet jacket.
“Why have you come inside??” Darius threw his hands up. “Where are your parents?!”
“I dunno!” said the boy. He dropped his jacket to the floor before darting toward the sofa to rub his palms all over the leather. “He was s’posed to be back last week, but he wasn't. He didn't show up at our meeting spot either, so he must be super busy.”
“What?” Darius laughed. “I'm sorry. What? I don't– I don’t even know anyone with children.” He rubbed his temples and then picked up the filthy wet jacket with two fingers. “Listen, I'm sorry… child, but you–”
“Hunter!” the boy interrupted.
“What?”
“Hunter!” Hunter repeated. “That's my name!” He crawled onto the couch and stood up. Then he jumped.
“Hey!” Darius burst. He dropped the jacket and then scrambled over to grab him around the middle and heft him into the air, legs peddling. “What are you doing?”
“Checking for bugs,” Hunter said, wriggling in his grasp. “They like hiding in beds and couches and stuff and they listen to everything you say! You gotta squish ‘em.”
“There's no bugs in my house!” Darius snapped. He marched back toward the door and set the boy on the ground, then wrenched it open. “I’m sorry, Hunter, but I don't know you or your dad, it's the middle of the night and I don't want to be involved in whatever game you're playing. Go home.”
“I don't have a home,” Hunter huffed. “That's why I'm here at yours. My dad said if anything happened to him or if I was ever in trouble, I'm supposed to go find Darius Deamonne.”
“Right,” Darius said dubiously. “Okay. Off with you.” He pointed sternly outside.
Hunter’s face finally faltered as he turned and looked behind him into the rain, then back up.
“But I really don't have anywhere else to go,” Hunter replied, “and I'm just a little kid.”
Darius's stomach twisted, but he held firm. This was clearly some kind of grift or prank. There was no way this kid was actually homeless. He didn't want any part of whatever this was and he wasn't going to waffle because of some sad puppy eyes.
“I don't know you or your dad,” Darius repeated, “and I can't help you.”
“But– yes you do and yes you can!" Hunter said stubbornly. “My dad said you used to be friends. He said you were super strong and nice and trustworthy.”
“Mhmm,” Darius said flatly. No one had described him as nice in the last ten years. “Go.”
“He said he got you your job and you owe him, though!” Hunter insisted, looking frustrated. “So you have to let me stay!”
Darius frowned. That was oddly specific.
“Who's your dad?” he asked finally.
“My dad is the greatest witch in the whole Boiling Isles!” Hunter replied. “The last Golden Guard!”
Darius’ breath caught in his throat before it moved downward and lit up like a hot coal in his belly.
“That's not funny,” he snarled. “Why don't you tell whoever sent you that–”
“His name is Jasper!” Hunter interrupted. “He said you were friends!”
Darius abruptly slammed the door shut. Hunter flinched.
“Where did you hear that name?” Darius demanded.
"I told you," Hunter said impatiently, "he's my dad."
The room seemed too small, suddenly. This wasn't real- it couldn't be. It was a cruel prank; Kikimora’s machinations or someone who wanted his job. Maybe Lilith. Lazulas. Another covenhead. Anyone.
Hunter’s hair was pale gold, face square-jawed under the baby fat. His cheek was scarred and the bridge of his nose curved at a wide angle. His eyes were bright pink and fierce in the low light.
Darius had only ever met one person with pink eyes before.
“Jasper’s alive?” Darius asked in a small voice. “How– how is that possible? It's been ten years. He can't possibly be alive.”
“He said he decided to run away from Belos, but he wouldn't leave me behind with him, so he went back. Then Belos tried to kill him and he got hurt really badly, but he got away.” He pointed at his face. “He said Belos gave me this, too. He's a bad guy.”
“You were in the castle?” Darius wondered aloud. “He ran away…?”
Hunter nodded. “Uh-huh. That's why we don't stay in one place very long. We don't want him to find us. My dad says that if he catches us, he’ll kill us, so it's super important he doesn't catch us.”
“And he,” Darius swallowed, “told you to find me if something happened to him?”
Hunter nodded. “He said you're the only person I'm allowed to trust.”
Something powerful and icy struck Darius like a wave. It nearly knocked him off his feet on the spot, and even though it didn't, the room spun and his breath moved shallowly in his chest.
“He’s alive,” Darius said, barely above a whisper. “He's really alive. He can't be alive. He's alive?”
“I haven't had any food in a couple days,” said Hunter. “Can I have something to eat?”
“What?” Darius bleated as he was shaken from his thoughts. “Why not??”
“I ran out of money,” Hunter explained patiently, “and I'm not s'posed to steal stuff when dads not around in case I get caught.” He crossed his arms with a huff. “Which is lame. I never get caught.”
“Of course you can have something to eat,” said Darius as he scrambled to his kitchen to turn on the light and began going through his fridge. He had no idea what kids ate. “Do you– what do you eat?”
“I'll eat anything if I have to,” said Hunter, “but I like plain stuff most. Dad says that makes it easier to taste if someone poisoned it. Also I just don't like a bunch of ingredients and I really hate cooked vegetables.” He stuck out his tongue. “They're so squishy! It's gross.”
“Alright, kids don't eat vegetables, I knew that,” Darius mumbled. He grabbed a Tupperscare container of womp rat stir fry. “This! Will you eat this?”
Hunter eyed it suspiciously before leaning forward to sniff it. “If it's hot.”
“Hot,” Darius repeated. He shut the fridge and flicked on the stove light. “I can do hot.”
“Okay, thanks,” said Hunter. He promptly wandered back out of the kitchen and into the living room. “Can I watch your TV? I don't get to watch a lot of TV.”
“Yes! Yes. Sure. Watch whatever you want!” He paused. “Wait. No. Watch cartoons. Watch something for kids.” He paused again. “Wait. It's the middle of the night. Do they play cartoons in the middle of the night?”
“That's okay,” said Hunter. “Dad lets me watch blood and guts and cussing as long as there's no sex stuff.”
“Jasper lets you watch blood and guts?” Darius balked. “How old are you?”
“Ten.”
“Ten?” Darius turned the burner on and returned to the threshold into the living room. Hunter turned back to look at him innocently, big eyes bright and cheek torn open down to the jugular, left red-pink and stiff.
“Uh,” said Hunter, squinting uncertainly. “Yeah? I'm ten.”
Darius' stomach twisted and something cold settled into the base of his spine. Jasper, he thought, what happened to you?
He returned to the stove and to reheating the stir fry. He stared into the pan blankly, listening to the food sizzle.
He couldn't ignore that Hunter knew Jasper’s name. He couldn't ignore that he was exactly as old as Jasper had been missing. He couldn't ignore Hunter’s weapon and strange behaviour.
He couldn't ignore “Dad.”
Where had Hunter come from? He said that Jasper had gone back for him, that he wouldn't leave him with Belos, so he already existed before he vanished– how had he hidden that from Darius? Why had he hidden that from Darius?
Who was the other parent?
Darius felt sick. He was Jasper’s only friend. Could he really have had a secret lover? Darius had always thought that Jasper had… that they'd both had feelings for each other that they hadn't acted on, but…
There was only one other person that Darius knew of in Jasper’s life that he cared about. There was only one other person in Jasper’s life that he would have done anything for.
Darius slammed his hands on the counter on each side of the stove, breathing heavily as the room swelled and shrank around him. He could feel a faint trembling beginning in his fingers. He would not think about that. He would not.
He took several deep breaths before movement in his peripherals drew his gaze to the threshold. Hunter was leaning in around the doorframe, watching him suspiciously. He looked tense.
“Are you okay?” Hunter asked warily.
Darius was about to say that he was fine before he noted the boy’s right hand subtly behind his back, the glint of steel revealing a knife clutched between his fingers.
Darius abruptly removed his hands from the counter and stood up straight, smoothing his palms over his hair anxiously. “I’m fine. I'm fine. I didn't mean to scare you.”
“I'm not scared,” Hunter dismissed.
“Okay,” said Darius carefully. He glanced back down at the stir fry. “This is ready. Let me grab you a bowl.” He pulled the pan off of the burner and set it aside. He watched Hunter slide the knife back into his sleeve and enter the kitchen, giving him a wide berth on his way to the table.
He sat quietly until Darius set the bowl in front of him along with a fork, then began rapidly shoving food in his mouth as if he hadn't eaten in days, which, if he were to be believed, he hadn't.
Darius stared down at the strange child in his kitchen who should not exist, and yet, did. Jasper, he thought, where are you?
He swallowed around a lump in his throat.
And where have you been?