As soon as they left the club, Allen stripped off his shawl and heels, sighing as his bare feet touched the ground.
“Very ladylike,” Cross said, only for Allen to hit him lightly with a heel.
“She’s the only one we had to convince, not the entire town,” he said. “I think we did a bang-up job of that.”
“You’re just lucky she recognized your accent and didn’t question your embarrassing difficulty wearing a corset,” Cross said. “And that she has a soft spot for helpless women.”
“I’m not helpless. Or a woman.”
“Well you certainly looked the part.”
“So did you,” Allen said, and Cross glanced down to see those pale eyes staring up at him. “I didn’t think you were capable of being that gentle.”
“Did you never pay attention when I had ladies over?” the elder asked.
“No,” Allen said without missing a beat. “Let’s hurry back. My chest hurts.”
Cross didn’t think anything of Allen’s answer, chalking it up to either sarcasm or his having no interest in Cross’s romantic
escapades.
Allen was in nearly as bad condition as before when they made it back to the inn, and Cross ended up carrying him up the stairs to their room despite his protests. He wouldn’t admit it, of course, but Allen was heavier than he looked and Cross was getting along in his years. He was happier than he let on to put Allen down once they were on their floor.
“You can stop treating me like your wife until tomorrow,” Allen said with an amused smile as he reached the door. Cross opened his mouth to reply, but he didn’t get a chance to as a gloved hand shot out through the door and grabbed Allen’s throat. He made a choked noise as he was yanked forward against the wood, and the face of the hand’s owner appeared through the surface.
Tyki.
“I had a feeling I’d find you here,” the Noah said, grinning down at Allen. “You know, the clerk was rather confused when I asked if a scruffy redhead and a young lady had checked in. You’re not very good at keeping a secret, are you boy?”
Allen couldn’t formulate a response through the now severe lack of air, and Cross stepped forward to grab Tyki’s wrist.
“Let go,” he growled out through clenched teeth. The Noah arched a brow at him and whistled.
“Mr. Chivalrous today I see. But I guess that makes sense,” he said. “You two are ‘married’ now, aren’t you?” Cross’s hand phased through Tyki’s arm when he tried to pull, but he released Allen in the process. Cross caught the boy before he could topple over, and Tyki opened the door from the inside. “Please, come in. Talk to me.”
“I apologize for that,” Tyki said after they had all settled in the room. “I didn’t realize you were already suffocating.”
“Shove off,” Allen said with a hoarse voice. “Master, will you help me out of this?” he asked, turning his back to Cross and looking over his shoulder. Cross began undoing the laces without a second thought, but they both seemed to remember something very important at the same time. They looked at Tyki.
“Oh, alright,” the Noah said with a roll of his eyes. He turned around, but Cross still made sure that his body hid Allen’s as the corset fell away from his chest and revealed his magic-induced breasts. Allen reached for a shirt to pull over his head before gathering the rest of his normal clothes. He made a beeline for the bathroom with the bell of the dress still clinging to his waist. Once the door was closed, Tyki turned back to face Cross.
“That boy’s changed quite a bit since I last saw him,” he said with a glint of humour in his eyes. “Interesting relationship you two have. When’s the honeymoon?” he asked with a grin. Cross was not amused.
“What do you want? Why were you talking with Noémie?” The general asked, pulling out a cigarette.
“Settle down now, one question at a time.” Tyki produced his own cigarette, and they both lit up before he answered. “I don’t think I need to tell you what I’m doing here,” he said as he blew out a cloud of smoke.
“Innocence,” Cross said; Tyki nodded. “That girl you talked to Noémie about. Does she have it?”
“Amélie,” Tyki supplied. “Cute girl. Great lay.” Cross rolled his eye. “I have reason to believe she does.”
“And that reason would be?” They both paused as Allen exited the bathroom, passing between the two to collapse on his bed. They returned their attention to each other.
“You sure do ask a lot of questions, don’t you?” Tyki gave him a knowing look, and Cross narrowed his eyes. With a sigh he pulled out a deck of cards from his exorcist uniform on the floor. “Ah~ Well-prepared I see.”
“I like to call it ‘pessimism’,” Cross said, sitting across from Tyki at the small coffee table in the room.
“Aw, don’t be harsh now,” Tyki said, leaning back against the foot of the chair he sat in front of. “I am helping you out, am I not?”
“Are you?” Cross asked as he shuffled. “How do I know you’re not leading us on a wild goose chase?”
“Come now, I wouldn’t lead a fellow Noah and his husband astray,” Tyki said. Allen shot upward on the bed.
“I’m not a Noah,” he said. Tyki chuckled.
“Whatever helps you sleep at night.”
“Deal,” Cross said, passing the deck to Tyki, who did as he was told. “Am I right in assuming that you intend to try to use our cover as blackmail for you personal gain?” he asked. Tyki winked.
“Bingo.”
“So what do you want?”
“Well, an island would be nice—”
“What are you after?” Cross rephrased. Tyki chuckled again.
“As you know, the Earl would have us destroy the Innocence,” he said, studying the hand he dealt himself. “And I’m bound to the Earl’s word. However, if the Innocence were to disappear before I found out…”
“Get to the point sometime in the next century.”
“Patience,” the Noah arranged his cards, “is a virtue.” He paused to puff from his cigarette. “I have some… Well, let’s call them ‘friends’, you see. I’d like to see them faring nicely before I have to leave them.”
“You want money,” Cross inferred.
“Right again. You’re on a roll today, General. Let’s see if you can keep that up in our game.”
“You mean to tell me you aren’t fully capable of swindling yourself a nice fortune?” Cross asked. “No limit. Buy-in.”
“Cheeky,” Tyki said. “I’m perfectly capable, but it’s so much more fun to have other people do the work for me. Besides, your wife knows how to cheat better than I do.”
“Roll up your sleeves,” Cross said at the comment, doing the same. The Noah laughed and followed suit. “Check.”
“You’re really trying to do me in early, aren’t you? Fair enough.” Tyki fished inside his tailcoat pocket and pulled out a few bills to put on the table.
“These friends of yours,” Cross began, putting his cards in order as he dug out a bit of change. “I take it they’re not Noah Clansmen?”
“No, they’re not.” Tyki plucked two cards from his hand and put them face-down next to the remaining deck, then pulled two more from the deck to replace them. “They’re acquaintances of my White self.”
“You mean your secret identity,” Cross corrected, replacing three of his own cards. “Why do you have to leave them?”
Tyki put another bill on the pile. “The Earl has requested that I spend more time as my Black self, and that means that I can’t hang around them as much as I normally do. I can’t have them snooping around, and I won’t have to worry if they can support themselves without my generous income.”
Cross called, placing a bit of paper cash onto the pile. “And why should we give a rat’s ass about them?”
“You are cruel, General.” Tyki replaced another card. “I’d be in your debt,” he admitted. “You may not want to believe it, but I do care for them. They’re like my second family.”
“Doubtful. Check.” Tyki added to the pile. “What do we get out of it?”
“Information and my removing myself from the situation. Isn’t that enough?”
“How much money are we talking about?” Cross asked.
“A couple grand, at least,” Tyki said. “They work in the mines. They can find better work if they have more assets.”
“Allen can do that.” The redhead looked over at his former apprentice. “Can’t you?”
“Easy,” Allen said with a shrug.
“Now that wasn’t so hard, was it?” Tyki asked, smiling. He laid down his cards, face-up, to reveal a Full House. Cross’s eye twitched.
“Master…”
Five hands later, Tyki had finally given them enough information to make Cross’s initial loss worth it. As it turned out, the reported anomalies that were thought to be linked to Innocence had all occurred in relation to Amélie’s clients, not including Tyki. The Noah said that he’d noticed a peculiar tattoo on the girl’s left shoulder blade during his time with her, but it had started glowing with the tell-tale green light of Innocence and he’d taken off in the blink of an eye.
“A shame, really,” Tyki had said. “It was just getting to the good part, too.”
At that point Allen had kicked him out of the room. Literally.
But they had enough information now to establish a plan of action. Seeing as Tyki hadn’t stuck around to find out the Innocence’s true ability, they would have to play it safe for now. They could at least deduce that it was a Parasitic-type, since it was embedded in Amélie’s body. That meant that there was no snatching the Innocence and taking off; they would have to recruit her into the Black Order.
Well, it wouldn’t be the first time they’d gained an exorcist with a questionable background.
“What exactly is she doing with her Innocence?” Allen asked.
“The reports say that the affected people began to get strange markings on their hands—and other areas,” Cross said. “We can only assume that those areas came into contact with the tattoo.”
“Strange markings? Is that it?”
“Well, one went on a ballistic rampage and internally combusted,” Cross said. “That one turned out to be an Akuma.” Allen shuddered.
“Alright, so it infects the people it touches and makes Akuma implode. Is it like a virus then?” Allen asked. “Like the Akuma blood curse, or Crowley’s blood when he injects it into Akuma.” Cross nodded.
“That’s what it sounds like, but it’s clearly unrefined if it’s infecting regular people, too, even if it doesn’t do anything to them,” he said. “Hopefully they just think it’s some obscure STD.”
“What did Tyki say the tattoo looked like?” Allen asked.
“The Star of David, I believe.” Cross sat in the armchair and flipped through the pages that detailed the reports. “I suppose the effects of the mark on Akuma are meant to symbolize a connection to God.” Allen snorted.
“Right. So what do we do once we get to the party tomorrow?” he asked, leaning over Cross’s shoulder to read along.
“Wait for her to arrive and make certain that it’s Innocence we’re dealing with,” the redhead said.
“Do you really doubt that it is?”
“No, but I’d rather not take my chances. Komui would rip me a new one if I brought back a harlot only to find out that she wasn’t an exorcist,” he said. “Luckily that Noah inside you is good for one thing.” Allen furrowed his brows.
“What is it?”
“If it’s Innocence then you’ll be able to feel it through him,” Cross said. “Now that he’s awoken, his repulsion should be more clear to you, especially if you touch the Innocence.”
“But what if I end up with those markings?” Allen asked.
“I’d be more worried about how you’re going to survive all night in that corset if I were you.”
They both sent a disdainful look toward the dress piled in the corner.
“That reminds me. When are you going to take these off?” Allen asked, straightening himself and sparing a hesitant look down at his protruding chest. Cross glanced over his shoulder.
“After tomorrow,” he said. “If I remove them now only to put them back for the party, you’ll get stretch marks.” Allen groaned.
“They’re so bothersome,” he said, poking at one. “I don’t see how girls deal with them.”
“In most cases, they’ve had their entire lives to adjust,” Cross said. “I’m surprised you’re complaining. There are a lot of men out there who would love to spend a day or two with a pair of tits all to themselves.” Allen made a face.
“Don’t talk like that. It’s unsettling.” Cross laughed.
“That’s what unsettles you. Figures.”
“Shove off. I don’t like them,” Allen said, frowning. “They’re still sore.”
“Massaging helps.”
“I’m not massaging my breasts!” Allen huffed and stomped off as Cross continued to chuckle. He rummaged through his bags and pulled out a book, then lay down on his bed with another huff to read.
Once Cross had finished going over the file in its entirety, he set them aside and lit another cigarette. He saw Allen’s nose wrinkle out of the corner of his eye, but offered no complaint; surely he was used to it. Cross’s gaze lingered on the boy as he read, unable to keep from looking at his endowment. Could he be blamed? Allen wasn’t wearing a bra, and the cool night air that wafted in through the window kept them pert through the thin fabric of Allen’s shirt. His bent knees were slightly spread, and for a brief moment, Cross thought back to Allen’s reaction when he had first induced the spell.
“Master,” Allen said, making the redhead blink, “if you don’t stop staring, I’m going to put a restraining order on you as soon as we finish this mission.” Cross snorted, but averted his gaze.
“Don’t tell me you’re shy,” he said. Allen held his place in the book and then moved it aside to give him a dead-eyed look from the bed. Cross laughed. “Of course, silly me.” With a grunt he pushed himself out of the armchair, defenestrating the remainder of his cigarette. Allen turned back to his book as Cross began to strip. “We’re going to have to really play it off tomorrow, you know,” he said.
Allen hummed. “I figured as much.”
“Staring is the most modest thing I’m going to do at that party,” he continued. Allen glanced at him.
“Do you perhaps want to run by me what you plan to do before you actually do it then?” he asked. Clad in scarce else but his boxers, Cross stepped over to Allen’s bed and plucked the book from his hands, not waiting for his protest as he climbed onto the bed. Allen’s blush was immediate, and Cross had to wonder how he didn’t pass out with that much blood running to his face at once.
“I’m going to do this,” he started, now hovering over Allen’s body, and lifted a hand to cup the boy’s breast. He continued despite the soft gasp. “And this.” His thumb brushed over a pert nipple, and Allen’s teeth bore down on his lip. “A little bit of this.” He lowered his head next to Allen’s and grazed his lips along the curve of his neck, barely feeling the rapid pulse beneath the skin. “And a whole lot of this.” And finally, his lips met Allen’s, swallowing the noise he made as Cross squeezed his breast at the same time. Hands pushed on his red-haired chest, and he pulled away in compliance.
“Not in public,” Allen said, and Cross thought it was meant to be a question, but the lack of air in his lungs had different plans.
“Of course. The public is what matters,” Cross said. “Unless you want to do it in private?” He arched his eyebrow with a sly glint in his eye, and Allen made some indignant noise and tried to push him away while covering his face. Cross mercifully slid off the bed, and had no qualms divesting himself of his boxers since Allen refused to look at him anyway. He made a smartass comment about sweet dreams and laughed as Allen hid his face under the covers, and then he slipped into his own bed for the night.
“Not—so—tight—!”
“It’s a corset, it’s supposed to be tight.”
“That doesn’t mean it—has to be!”
“If you want this to be convincing, then you have to act the part. Women will do anything in the name of fashion.”
Allen gasped and held his hands to his abdomen as Cross yanked on the laces yet again. It must have hurt worse with how sore Allen’s chest was from yesterday. He’d refused to let the elder “arrange” his breasts this time, and Cross had laughed, but he couldn’t blame the boy. Thinking back on it, he wondered if he’d overstepped his boundaries last night, especially seeing as he didn’t intend to grope the poor kid quite so sensually in front of anybody. It was mostly just to tease, but given how skittish Allen had become, he was beginning to regret it.
Bitchy wife, sucky life, as the saying went.
Allen grunted as Cross finally tied off the top, panting as he forced his back to be straight. Cross shook his head and sat down to put on his boots.
“Put on your—”
“I am.”
“Don’t get an attitude with me.”
“I’ll get all the attitude I damn please!” Allen held his breath as he bent down to fight the heel onto his foot. He gulped down a breath and put on the other one. “You’re the one who dragged me into this in the first place! My ribs are probably going to be crushed by the time we leave this bloody town!”
“It’s not that tight.”
“Don’t tell me it’s ‘not that tight’,” Allen said, storming over and jabbing a finger in his face. “I don’t want to hear shit from you until you’ve worn a corset.”
Cross grabbed Allen’s wrist in an iron grip and stood up, turning the boy around and holding his arm behind his back. Not hard enough to be painful in any way, but enough to make his point very clear. His other hand rose to curl around the front of Allen’s throat, propping back his head to rest against the elder’s shoulder. His eyes were slightly widened and very scared, and Cross pursed his lips. He changed his hold on Allen’s wrist so he could hold it up instead, bringing his lips to the boy’s pulse as he kept his eye on Allen’s. His mouth fell open just a little as that signature blush spread across his face like wildfire. Cross removed his lips and lowered Allen’s hand before releasing him entirely.
“M-Master?” Allen turned around immediately, holding both arms behind his back in what was probably meant to seem shy, but the way he kept one foot behind the other said otherwise. “What were you—There’s no one around…”
“If anything becomes too much,” Cross said, “do that to my wrist.” Uncertainty flashed in Allen’s eyes, but toward what, Cross couldn’t say.
“Too much as in…?”
“The dress, the people, the setting.” Cross shrugged. “Me.” Allen blinked at that, opened his mouth, then closed it again as he looked down.
“Okay.”
“Come on,” Cross said, holding out his hand. “We need to wave down a carriage.”
The carriage they ended up with was cramped and stuffy, but the coachman didn’t ask for much since he was heading the same way. Allen spilled out of the door the second they stopped, fan waving as he rolled his shoulders. Cross stepped out after him, slipping a hand around his waist. Allen’s hand lifted to his arm and then rested around his back, still trying to gather his breath.
Noémie’s house was rather sizeable, but it was no mansion. God knew she made enough money for one, but she had her virtues in that she donated toward the well-being of her working girls rather than hoard the money to herself. A couple women were walking through the front door ahead of them, arm-in-arm.
And in corsets, Cross added internally with a quirked brow down at Allen, who was looking anywhere but him. Better get this over with so he can avoid me in peace.
He walked side-by-side with Allen to the entrance, only to be stopped by a guard—coincidentally the same bouncer from the club. He must have been one of Noémie’s close friends.
“You again,” the man drawled. Cross smiled as he helped Allen up the front steps.
“Me again. Are you going to make a fuss this time or are you going to let us in?” he asked. The man sneered at him before stepping aside. “Much obliged, monsieur.”
The interior of the house was much more grandiose than the unassuming exterior. The printed walls, intricate light fixtures, and various pieces of marble furniture all alluded to the suppressed tastes of Noémie’s personality. The party guests were enjoying themselves, at least. Noémie found them after only a minute or two of enduring the stares they received and not knowing where to go.
“This when I’m supposed to say ‘I’m glad you made it’, right?” she asked, offering a smile. “Only joking, of course. Amélie hasn’t arrived yet, but you’re welcome to wait in the living room.” She waved them along to follow her down the hallway.
“Your hospitality is always refreshing, Mademoiselle,” Cross said. “What does the young lady look like, anyway?”
“Brown hair, brown eyes.” Cross looked around.
“Thank you, that narrows it down rather nicely.” Noémie smiled.
“She has Vitiligo. She’s not hard to find,” she said. Cross made an intrigued face.
“Ten clients, you said?”
“And counting. Just last night she had two more.”
“She must be an inspiration,” Cross said.
“People love exotica.” She guided them to the living room and gestured around. “There are refreshments available. I’ll bring her to you when she gets here,” she said. Cross nodded.
“I’ll be sure to entertain your guests in your absence,” he said.
“Please don’t.” Noémie rolled her eyes and turned to walk off again. Cross chuckled and walked with Allen to sit down on a loveseat; it was only appropriate, after all.
“Hanging in there?” he asked. Allen nodded, leaning against him. “Don’t look so worn out. We have an image to maintain.”
“Shove off,” Allen muttered, panting lightly. “I’m hot—”
“It’s freezing in here.”
“Did I stutter?” Allen sucked in a breath through his nose, his method of intake alternating as he waved the fan in front of his face. Cross sighed and pulled on his waist until Allen was in his lap, back facing the redhead. (And here is where we pick back up in our story!) “What—” He wasn’t given a chance to ask questions as Cross undid the tie of the ribbon, allowing his lungs to fill with a degree more of air, but it seemed to relieve Allen. Then Cross tied the ribbon again without re-tightening it, and Allen slumped back against him. “Thank you,” he said breathily. Cross just grunted.
“Don’t get comfortable. If you slouch in that, then your ribs will be crushed,” he said. Allen sat up again immediately, but at least he wasn’t having as much trouble breathing. For now.
The boy turned his head to glance down at Cross from his perch, and before he could ask what he was looking at, Allen turned his body to drape his legs over the elder’s. His arm came to rest around Cross’s shoulders, providing his own as a comfortable resting place for the General’s head should he so wish it. He nuzzled into the fabric of the shawl almost by reflex, and he felt Allen stiffen against him.
“Someone’s brazen,” he said, brushing his nose against Allen’s neck. He heard the swallow rather than saw it.
“I’m just acting the part,” Allen said quietly. Cross chuckled and snaked his hand around the other’s waist, pulling him flush against his own body.
“I’m surprised you’re still willing,” he said. “You didn’t seem very keen on it last night.” He fought off a frown at the memory.
“I’ll do what has to be done,” Allen said. “And if that means suffering your face scruff, then so be it.” Cross gave him a look.
“My ‘face scruff’ is handsome,” he said in his own defense.
“It itches. I’m pretty sure you stabbed my chin last night.” Cross scoffed. “I’m serious! It still kind of hurts,” Allen said, rubbing at his chin.
“You’ll get used to it,” Cross said without thinking. Allen lifted a brow at him.
“The mission won’t take that much longer. I don’t want to get used to it,” he said. Cross kept his expression carefully blank.
“Then don’t. It looks like our new recruit has arrived,” he said with a nod toward the entrance hall. Allen followed his gaze to see Noémie escorting a short, lean girl with dual-coloured skin, splotching her body with beautifully abstract shapes. Heir hair—brown, eyes, but highlighted with a lighter tone here and there—glistened, and her owlish eyes took in everything around her as if she wanted to engrave every detail into her memory. Cross could understand the appeal.
“General, Madame…” Noémie hesitated in regards to Allen, and Cross cursed internally. They still hadn’t come up with a name.
“Alyssa,” Allen supplied with a smile. Noémie nodded, and Cross thanked his lucky stars.
“Madame Alyssa,” she said. “This is Amélie. Allez-vous bien vous-même?” she asked the younger woman. Amélie nodded, and Noémie returned the gesture. “Very well. Cross—” She gave the redhead a stern look. “You have a wife,” she said.
“That I do,” he agreed.
“Good. I’ll leave you to it then.” And with that, she turned and walked off again, presumably to greet more guests. Cross turned to Amélie and gestured to the chair beside the loveseat.
“S'il vous plaît,” he said, and she smiled and sat.
“I speak English,” she said.
“Ah, lovely.” Cross smiled. “That makes this much easier on us. Might I ask where you learned? You barely have an accent.”
“I grew up in America,” Amélie said. “I moved here to find a better life.”
“I see. And so you decided to become a prostitute,” Cross said. Allen smacked his chest with his fan, giving him an incredulous look, but Amélie only laughed.
“It’s better than nothing, and it pays well.” She gestured around to the other women in the room. “They all treat me like family. A few shady characters is a wonderful price to pay for that.” Cross tilted his head in genuine interest.
“I’ve never heard a prostitute defend her job,” he said. “All the ones I’ve met just said what they were told to say with a smile and a nod. Do you enjoy it here that much?” he asked. Amélie nodded.
“I don’t plan to do it forever,” she said. “But I’m glad to make these bonds while I can.”
“You don’t care about what you have to do?” Allen asked suddenly, and both turned to look at him. “Selling your body like that?”
Amélie shook her head. “It’s flattering that people would want to pay to touch me, or sometimes even just to look at me or spend time with me,” she said. “Where I lived in America, everyone treated me like an alien. To know that my body is appreciated… It’s a nice feeling.” Allen got that tell-tale look of sympathy in his eyes, and Cross hoped that was a good sign.
“You’re beautiful,” he said. Amélie’s face flushed slightly.
“You’re kind. Thank you. You’re very gorgeous yourself,” she said. Allen flushed twice as much.
“Oh—no, not really. I’m just—”
“You are,” Amélie insisted. “And you must be gorgeous on the inside, too, to have married a man like him.” She nodded to Cross, and he wondered if that were a compliment or an insult in disguise. Allen laughed.
“Aha—well. I suppose you’re right.” He looked over to meet the elder’s gaze, and Cross was taken aback by the sincerity in his eyes. Whether or not it was genuine was still up for debate, but the fact that Allen could force himself to look at him like that at all was astounding. “He is rather extraordinary,” he said.
“Um, if you don’t mind me asking, what exactly did you want to talk to me about?” Amélie asked, drawing their attentions back to her. “Sorry, I just have a hard time believing you just wanted a nice conversation.”
“And you’re not wrong for that,” Cross said. “Forgive my boldness, but I was told that you have a tattoo on your shoulder. Is that correct?” he asked. Amélie blinked.
“Yes—yes I do. Why? Is it important?” She glanced over her shoulder, reaching up to tug down the frilly strap of her dress to reveal the Star of David. She turned to allow them a better view.
“If our suspicions are correct, then yes, it’s very important,” Cross said. He nudged Allen forward, and he slid off the General’s lap to walk carefully over to Amélie.
“I’m sorry, Miss,” he said with a gentle smile. “Would it be alright if I touched it? No more than a touch.” The confusion grew in Amélie’s eyes, but she nodded.
“I suppose so.”
All eyes were on Allen as he removed the glove from his right hand, then reached out to brush his fingers over the black print. As soon as he made contact, the star glowed green, and he staggered backward with a grunt. Cross was there to keep him steady before Amélie could blink, but she quickly tugged her sleeve back up and stood to worry over Allen.
“I’m so sorry! What happened? Did I shock you or something?” she asked, checking Allen’s hand. He just smiled and waved her off, but didn’t pull himself from Cross’s grip.
“No, no. I’m alright.” He glanced up at Cross, and they nodded at each other. He looked back to Amélie. “I think this conversation should continue outside. You might be surprised to hear what we have to say.”
They put a good bit of distance between themselves and the front entrance once they were outside, and Cross’s hands hadn’t left Allen the whole way there.
“I’m sorry—I’m confused,” Amélie began. “What is it about my tattoo that’s so important?” she asked.
“First I’d like to ask when and how you got that tattoo,” Allen said. “Have you had it for as long as you can remember or do you know of someone that gave it to you?”
“I—I remember getting it,” she said. “Before I left America. My friend recommended me to a tattoo artist.”
“Who was the tattoo artist?” Allen asked.
“I’m...not sure exactly. She never gave me her name.”
“Do you remember what she looked like?”
“She...she had blond hair, and… Oh! A big scar on her face,” Amélie said. Cross stepped forward suddenly, holding Allen aside.
“Did she have a monkey with her?” he asked with urgency. Amélie squeaked and stepped back.
“I—… Actually… Yes, I think she did.”
“Klaud!” Cross shouted, releasing Allen to shake his fist at nothing in particular. “Leave it to that woman to leave her mess for us to clean.”
“You mean General Nine?” Allen asked, and Cross nodded.
“It has to be. She probably had an Innocence fragment that resonated with Amélie, and it became a Parasitic-type when it attached to her.”
“Um,” Amélie started, returning their gazes to her. “What are you talking about?”
“Sorry.” Allen chuckled softly and scratched his head with his fan. “We should probably explain.”
The initial explanation went about as well as anyone would expect. However, Timcanpy made a timely appearance, and provided various recordings from the Order and its goingson so that Amélie had proof they weren’t off their rockers. Of course the self-discovery led to her horror over the fact that her Innocence had infected that many people already, but Allen assured her that the Order would help prevent that, and maybe even find a way to revert the effects. At least Allen hoped they would. The markings were already appearing on his hand.
“There’s no rush, of course,” Allen said. “You can take your time saying your farewells, and who knows? You might even be able to come back and visit during your travels.”
“Actually,” Cross interrupted. “There is a bit of a rush. In case you’ve forgotten, we aren’t the only ones looking for her Innocence.” Allen slapped a hand to his forehead, and then covered his mouth.
“I still need to get that money,” he said. Cross rolled his eye.
“No you don’t. He already gave us the information we needed,” he said. Allen glared at him.
“Yes, I do. I’m not going to make a bigger enemy out of Tyki than I have to. Besides, I’ve met his friends. They’re good people.”
“They’re not our probl—”
“There’s a child with them,” Allen said, effectively silencing the General. He sighed sharply.
“Fine, but don’t drag me into it. Now, like I said, we are in a hurry—” A voice came from the front door as he reached for Amélie.
“Madame!” The new exorcist darted past them to reach the club owner. Cross groaned.
“Go find a game to rig,” he said, shoving Allen toward the road. “I’ll take her back to our room. You better be back by sunrise or we’re taking the train without you.”
“But the corset—”
“We don’t have time, stupid pupil!” Cross waved his arm violently, and Allen flinched back. “Now go!” The younger General nodded and stumbled as he turned and hurried toward the road to flag down a carriage. Cross threaded his fingers through his hair and walked over to the front door to wait on the two women.
“Are you leaving now?” Noémie was asking Amélie.
“I think so—But is it alright? If I leave?” The harlot asked. “I know I just started working here—”
“Don’t worry,” Noémie said, hugging her around her shoulders. “You’re going off to do bigger and better things. You’ve already done a lot for our family. Just stay safe, alright?” She pulled back to look at Amélie, who nodded, taking a breath. Noémie patted her face and then looked over her shoulder at Cross, eyes hardening. “And you better make sure she stays safe.”
“Yes, of course—”
“I mean it,” she said. “If I find out anything happens to her, not amount of redemption will ever earn your forgiveness. Is that clear?”
“Crystal. Now, please.” He motioned for Amélie to hurry along. Noémie humphed and hugged Amélie once more.
“Alright, off you go,” she said, ushering off the exorcist.
“Goodbye! Thank you, Madame!” Amélie called as she descended the steps. Cross took her shoulders and pulled her along. “Why are we in such a hurry again?” she asked.
“A Noah is after your Innocence,” Cross said briskly. “I’ll explain once we’re on a train, with or without Allen.”
“Allen?”
Fuck. Dammit. Shit. Fuck.
“Uh—” He sighed. “That will be explained later too.”
They eventually found a carriage willing to take them the rest of the way to the inn after half-walking-half-running on foot for so long. Allen of course wasn’t in the room when they got there, but his absence wasn’t what made Cross freeze in the doorway.
Sitting in the middle of the floor with a note tucked beneath it was a music box.
“Is everything okay?” Amélie asked from behind him, trying to peek around him.
“Stay here,” he said quietly, stepping into the room. His eye scanned the room as he walked farther inside, and he reached down to pick up the items. He decided to crack open the music box first, and his grimace was immediate.
Inside was a butterfly figurine, and the shrill tune followed that of “Pop Goes the Weasel”.
All around the mulberry bush…
He unfolded the note.
The monkey chased the weasel…
He glanced over the words.
The monkey thought ‘twas all in good fun…
“Pop goes the weasel~”
Cross wouldn’t admit to jumping at the sound of the voice, but when he looked around, only Amélie was still standing in the doorway.
“Sir?” the girl asked, glancing around with wary eyes. “Are we in danger?”
“Yes,” he said, wasting no time with false reassurance. He discarded the box and note on the nightstand as he started to gather their things. “Get in here. Don’t stand in the hallway,” he said. Amélie shuffled inside, closing the door behind her. “The Noah are people with special powers, like our Innocence, but its antithesis. They can destroy Innocence, just as Innocence can destroy them.”
“So...they’re like those creatures you mentioned? Aku…Akuma?” Amélie asked.
“Worse,” he said. “The Noah are reincarnations of the man from the bible.” The girl blinked.
“As in Noah’s Ark?” He nodded. “But he was just one man.”
“They’re his memories,” Cross said. “‘Dreams’, ‘Wisdom’, ‘Desire’. The one chasing us is the Noah of Pleasure.” He glanced over at her. “You’ve met him.”
“I have?”
“Does the name ‘Tyki Mikk’ ring a bell?” he asked. Her eyes widened, and she brought both hands to her mouth. He pursed his lips and continued packing. “Don’t let the revulsion get to you. You’re not the first one he’s defiled.”
“But…I don’t understand. He was so kind.”
“Anyone can be kind to get a job done,” he said. He pointedly did not think about the weight of that sentence. He left out some clothes for Allen to change into when (if) he got back, and then they waited.
It was some time before Allen returned, but in his defense he did get back before sunrise.
“We have to leave. Now,” he said as soon as he stepped through the door. His makeup was smudged, and his curse mark showed through. His hair was in disarray, but Cross noted a distinct sway where tufts of hair stuck out more than others. His shawl was also gone, revealing the uppermost of his right arm.
“What happened?” Cross asked, shooting to his feet. Allen’s head whipped up at the intensity of his voice, but he recovered quickly.
“Sore losers, that’s what,” he said, snatching up the clothes Cross had lain out on the bed. “Get this off.” He turned his back to Cross.
“What did they do to you?” the redhead asked as he strode forward to begin undoing the laces of the corset, fingers thankfully agreeing to be nimble this time around. The corset fell away, and he reached around to Allen’s chest from behind to place his hands over the breasts, causing them to shrink back to his normal pectorals.
“They got a little physical,” Allen said, shucking off the dress without a care for their current company and hastily pulling on his clothes. “I should have changed before going out.” Cross grabbed his shoulder once he was adequately dressed and turned him around.
Without the distraction of the dress and the scarce remains of the makeup to distract him, he could see plainly the new marks on Allen’s skin: a bruise on his left cheek, the dark imprints of fingers around his throat, a bite mark peeking out from his shirt collar.
Cross shook. His hand clenched the fabric of Allen’s shirt, and his vision fell away from what was right in front of him as a potent urge to punch something overcame him. He was shaken from his blind rage, however, as he felt Allen grab his arm, and he watched in a stupor as he brought Cross’s wrist to his lips. Their eyes met.
“Grab your things,” he said lowly. Allen nodded and let go of him to get his bags as Cross fetched his and hoisted it over his shoulder. “Come on, Amélie.”
“What just happened?”
“No time to explain.”
“Run along, little weasels. The monkey is coming to find you ~
- Tyki Mikk”