The Jackal and the Bird | 3
chapter summary: Harrow decides to make an unwanted appearance and Steven learns something new.
a/n: enjoy :)
(t/w): m/m, canon-typical violence
for m/nblm, no fem aligned
masterlist
The Hot Guy From Work Kicks Ass
When Steven described his ideal first date, he didn’t think he’d put ‘a deadly car chase with men he didn’t know’ anywhere on the list.
In fact, he’d put it under the Things I Don’t Want to Do column. But he still found himself driving a slow cupcake van, chased by random men who were shooting at him, alongside the hot guy from work.
You were focused on the men behind you. You lacked a gun, instead, you stood at the back of the truck, keeping the doors shut. You directed Steven as best you could, trying to keep him calm. It wasn't really working, but he appreciated the effort. At least you seemed to know what you were doing.
“C’mon, move your arse!” He huffed, slamming the wheel. The older woman in the other car moved aside. “Thank you! So sorry, thank you!” …only for her to flip him off a moment later.
“Charming.”
“Focus, Steven!” You reminded, gripping the door handle tighter when a loud thud sounded in the car. You muttered a curse under your breath, turning your attention to the doors. He didn't know how the hell you weren't getting shot, but he was thankful for whatever luck you were having.
In all honesty, you'd been hit several times by now, though it all healed faster than Steven could see.
You watched him take deep breaths, trying to focus on the road ahead. Confident that it would take a while for anyone to break through the doors, you moved toward the front of the truck.
Steven didn't even realize how much he'd been muttering until you put a hand on his shoulder. He jumped a bit, looking over to you for a second before switching back to the road.
You climbed into the passenger seat, looking at him sympathetically. "I know you're confused, Steven, but just focus on driving for me, okay? I'll worry about them," you assured.
He glanced over to you, hands gripping the wheel so tight he shook. Eventually, he nodded, giving his full attention to the road again.
Unfortunately, one of the men behind you managed to reach the car, shooting open the handles. He staggered his way to the front, attempting to grab onto Steven only to get a cupcake thrown in his face.
It gave you the chance to grab his arm, fully throwing him out of the van. Hopefully, Steven didn't have time to assess your strength.
"I'm sorry about the cupcake," he mumbled, as if the owner could still hear him.
He could hear the sound of you fighting other men, occasionally hearing one of the men yell. He resisted the urge to turn around, willing himself to focus on the road. Though it was tempting, he managed.
The gunshot was what finally made him turn around.
A brought on a strange sensation, though one he was familiar with. Like he was thrown out of his own body. His eyes shifted back, muscles tensing, and then everything went black.
He wasn't sure how long he was out, but when he woke up, things looked a bit different.
He whipped around, looking over his surroundings. The first thing that drew his attention was the gun in his hand. He fumbled with it, finally gripping it tightly.
You sat next to him, though he focused his eyes back on the road as fast as he could.
"Wake up Marc!" A loud voice boomed, nearly startling him out of his skin. “If he loses the scarab, I’ll kill you both!”
Frankly, the giant loud mystery voice was a bit terrifying, so (for now) he’d just go along with it.
“Good shot,” You chuckled, not concerned with the echoing shots from other cars behind you.
“Oh, bollocks, you’re bleeding,” Steven said, tearing his eyes from the road and looking over to your face. Bright red blood was dripping down your face, small drops seeping into your shirt. He barely managed to tear his eyes away, half focused on you and half on the road.
Your brows furrowed, tapping around your face until you felt warm blood. You looked perplexed before humming.
“No worries, it isn’t mine.”
Steven nodded slowly, unsure whether that made him feel better or worse.
“I don’t understand what’s happening,” Steven complained, half speaking to you and half to the mystery voice in his head.
“Truck, stupid!” The voice shouted.
“What?” He questioned, unsure what was even said.
“Truck!”
His eyes widened, skidding around a truck full of logs before the same feeling of panic took over his chest and his eyes shifted back.
When he woke up again, he was faced with a car driving toward him, several aggressive-looking men staring him in the eye.
“Huh?” He questioned, looking around him before putting the pieces together. “Oh god, I’m driving backwards.”
You were firing off a few shots at the cars in front of you through the broken windshield. He was concerned for your safety, but it seemed like you could handle yourself.
When another man peaked out of the truck, gun pointed at him, he launched the gun in his hand at the car, hoping it would at least crack the windshield.
“Did he just throw the gun?!” The voice questioned. He even heard a quiet sigh from your direction.
Okay, maybe that wasn’t his brightest idea, but in fairness, he had no idea what the hell was happening.
“I don’t know what I’m doing!” He shouted, trying to explain to you and the voice.
“Then leave us be, parasite!” The voice sounded annoyed, as if Steven was nothing more than an inconvenience.
“I know Steven, it’s okay.” You offered, your voice much calmer than the loud one in his head. It was calming to hear you talk, and you brought whatever comfort you could in the confusing mess he was in.
The engine let out a sputter before he felt his vision fade and the tight feeling return to his chest. He looked over at you, confused and afraid before everything faded out yet again.
Waking up was slightly better this time, but anything was better than driving backwards without a license. The engine was sputtering more now, before finally giving out.
“Oh come on, come on!” He yelled desperately, slapping the dashboard as if it would help.
“It’s not exactly made for high-speed chases,” You muttered. You were right of course, but he was hoping that it would start again, even for a little. Just enough to get out of sight.
It didn’t take long for the men to catch up, pulling behind the van.
“Stay here, Steven,” You said. Steven only nodded, completely unsure what to do.
But you barely had the chance to take a few steps before logs came barreling down from the ledge above, slamming into the cars and whoever was standing with them.
Steven let out a rather undignified yelp, “Oh shit!”
Before it all went black again.
Sun streamed through the window, hitting Steven’s side of the bed. He huffed, nearly turning to go back to sleep before he realized what the hell just happened.
He bolted up, wrinkled sheets falling down his chest, covered by a shirt that wasn’t his.
“Oh god,” He muttered, looking around the room.
It certainly wasn’t his flat. It was larger, much larger, and had a separate bedroom.
Glancing down at the bed next to him clued him in though. Your half-asleep form lay next to him, jolted from his sudden movement.
The reality of sitting in a bed, any bed, brought a rush of relief over him. He chuckled, soon fully laughing. Though he was lacking his usual leg harness, there was still a feeling of comfort in knowing he hadn’t woken up halfway across the room and gotten kicked out.
“Oh god,” He mumbled again, this time in relief.
He slumped back into the bed with another harsh movement, now fully waking you up.
“Bit early for you, love,” You said, your voice rough. Marc hadn’t really spoken last night. There was no explanation, no word, nothing. Just a simple good night before he slid into your bed. At least he was still sleeping in the same bed as you.
And that sentence alone almost sent Steven into cardiac arrest.
The way you said it. The gravelly sound of your voice early in the morning was one thing. How strangely domestic it was to hear was another. But what really did him in, was hearing the soft “love” you uttered, staring straight at him.
“You alright?” You questioned, brow lifted.
Steven snapped out of his thoughts, stuttering a bit.
All the while, you were rather confused. Marc wasn’t really a morning person (though he often didn’t have a choice in the matter), but right now he seemed more awake than he was the previous night.
He looked nervous, trying to stutter out a reply. It only took a moment for you to realize this was not, in fact, your husband.
It was somewhat disappointing, mostly because you had a million and one things to ask Marc, but Steven was also a welcome party.
“Steven.” You smiled at him as he nodded softly. His hair was messy, curls frizzy from sleeping on your pillows. You were sure your hair didn’t look much better, but it looked strangely good on him.
“You alright there?”
“Did I have off today?” He questioned under his breath, mostly to himself.
You shook your head. “I may have called us out of work, not like Donna could stop me.” You chuckled. His brow furrowed.
“Oh, it’s Friday. I’ve got off anyway, no need to trouble yourself for me,” He chuckled, looking away from you.
Oh. Right. That.
The main issue with that statement was that Steven still thought it was Friday. Considering that you and Marc had been… busy the past few days, it was most definitely Sunday.
You’d kept Steven out of work, saying the two of you had a family emergency (the look on Donna’s face when you told her you were married was something you’d savor for years).
“Um, Steven,” you said, cringing slightly. “It’s Sunday.”
His brows furrowed in confusion. “Last I checked, Friday still comes after Thursday,” he joked. You could hear the nervous tone of his voice.
“Sorry, love. Definitely Sunday.” You grabbed your phone, clicking open the screen and showing him the date.
He muttered something under his breath. “I’ve gotta go, yeah?” He hurriedly stood from the bed, nearly tripping over the shoes Marc had left beside the bed. His clothes weren’t nearby, leaving him to nervously look around the room. He let out a small curse, looking back toward you.
“Steven, you can stay, you know?” You reassured. “I like you being here.”
He seemed too nervous to listen to you, like a startled animal looking for a way out.
“No, I just,” He huffed, turning back to you after making sure his clothes weren’t anywhere visible. “I’ve gotta get home. Got a fish, and I’ve definitely gotta get back into work, I mean–”
“Steven. Don’t be so nervous, I want you here.” He still seemed stiff, but the tension stayed in his shoulders. “If you want to leave, I won’t stop you, just let me grab you a change of clothes.”
You stood from the bed, clad in only your boxers. Steve froze a bit, but nodded. He didn’t really know where to look, first making clear eye contact before suddenly finding the wall far too interesting.
You chuckled, pulling out some of your ill-fitting clothing and tossing it to him. It wasn’t a perfect fit, but it would certainly do.
“I’ll return your clothes another time, alright?”
He left with a swift nod, barely avoiding hitting his shoulder on your door frame.
You sighed softly at how nervous he was. He was so different from Marc. Marc always held himself with confidence, Steven seemed afraid to just be in your presence.
For now, it was an adjustment you’d have to get used to.
``That’s not Gus, I know that’s not Gus,” Steven mumbled, hand on his chin.
The fish in question was swimming in the tank. The tank that most certainly did not belong to him (whatever that fish’s name was). The now missing Gus had completely disappeared, though Steven doubted he’d gotten up and walked away.
“If you’re Gus, then I’m the bloody queen of Shiba,” He huffed, walking toward his kitchen only to hit his foot against a desk.
He let out an instant hiss, glaring down at the wood as if that would help. But the closer he looked, the more he noticed the odd position.
“What’s this about?” He questioned.
What he hadn’t been expecting was some kind of secret cabinet in his walls.
The only notable item was a cell phone. It only contained two contacts, neither of which were very helpful.
The first titled “Layla”, the second simply labeled “Cariño”
“Alright…” He clicked on Layla, holding the phone up to his ear as it dialed.
“Oh my god, you’re alive!”
A woman immediately answered, surprising him.
“Yeah… alright.”
“That’s it?! I’ve been texting and calling you for months! You couldn’t give me any sign that you were okay? What about your husband?! Have you even talked to him since?!” She let out a heavy sigh, calming herself down. “I thought something happened to you two. Where are you? Where’ve you been? Are you with him now?”
Steven had no idea what to say. First off, this “Layla” seemed beyond upset with him, and next, she was the second person to tell him he had a husband. Apparently.
“Sorry, I just found this phone in my flat and I’m just trying to figure out whose it is.”
There was a beat of silence before “Layla” spoke, sounding even more confused. “What's with this accent?”
“What?”
“What's happening right now? Let me talk to him, okay?”
“Sorry, who? Who do you think I am?”
“What do you mean ‘who’, Marc? Is he not there?”
“What did you just call me? Why did you call me Marc, and who are you talking about?”
He waited for an answered only to hear the buzz of a disconnected line. He pulled the phone away from his ear, mumbling as he dialed again only to receive no answer.
He sighed, slumping in the chair before looking down at the phone again. One more contact, and hopefully this one would be more helpful.
Steven, stop.
A sudden voice made him jolt. It wasn’t the first time he’d heard it, he knew that much. But there was no one else in his flat. There never was.
So, he assumed it was him. His head, most likely. Maybe he was just tired.
Steven, no.
He ignored it this time, dialing the next number.
“Is this some kind of joke?”
Whatever the hell he was doing, it wasn’t funny.
You usually kept the burner phones Marc gave you in your bedside table. Since finding him again, you’d forgotten your usual routine of staring at the phone, hoping it would ring.
But now? He had to be mocking you.
“Sorry, what?”
You huffed, holding the phone tight against your ear, your grip squeezing the metal.
“Don’t break another one, my friend,” Anubis chuckled, lounging on the couch in your room. You only rolled your eyes at him, but lessened your grip.
“You heard me Marc, this isn’t funny. If you’re trying to make fun of me I don’t get the joke.” This was a call you’d waited so long for, and of course it only happens after you already find him.
“Why do you people keep calling me Marc? I found a phone in my flat, I’m trying to figure out what on Earth it’s doing there.”
“Steven?”
The fury faded out, but came back quickly. Marc told Steven absolutely nothing. Though you didn’t understand their situation, or their relationship, Steven was probably confused as hell.
“Y/n? Why are you a contact on the weird phone in my walls?”
A question you didn’t know how to answer.
“It’s a long story,” you said, internally sighing. “Did you call anyone else?”
“Just some lady named Layla. She called me Marc too. Kept yelling at me for being British. What am I supposed to do about that, change nationality?”
He laughed at his own joke, but you couldn’t bring yourself too.
If he called Layla, that meant she was almost undoubtedly tracking the phone. Which also meant that Marc would not be happy if she ended up in the middle of all this again.
“It’s alright Steven, I know her. She was probably just confused.”
There was a beat of silence, and you were certain you could hear Steven mumbling to himself (something about an annoying mirror).
“Alright then. If you’re sure."
"I'll see you tomorrow, Steven."
"Yeah, um, one quick question. What exactly does 'Cariño mean?"
"Cariño?" You paused a moment. It might overwhelm Steven slightly. You supposed it was more up to Marc than you, if there was a way for Marc to explain. "It's... just a term of endearment in Spanish."
You heard Steven hum. "Right, then. I'll see you tomorrow."
He hung up, the line going silent. You tossed the phone back into the drawer, letting out a heavy sigh.
“Sometimes I still wonder how you fell for a mortal.” Anubis’ voice echoed through the room along with a low-toned chuckle.
You sighed at the comment. Ever since marrying Marc, Anubis asked you that fairly constantly.
“Sometimes I do too,” you hummed in agreement. Marc had his moments, yes, and sometimes you did regret falling for a mortal.
But not because of who Marc is, only that your time with him was limited.
“It couldn’t be Ra?”
You sighed. This was a complaint you got… more often than you like to admit.
“He’s too absorbed with himself,” You waved Anubis off, settling down on the bed again. “And I hardly know what he’s saying half the time, he talks too fast.”
Anubis groaned slightly, that much you both could agree on. “Sekhmet?”
You chuckled, “I’m pretty sure she’d rip my head off before I suggested it. Have you seen her breathe fire?” She was nice enough when she wasn’t angry, but that was rare.
“Min! He was always nice,” Anubis lamented.
You rolled your eyes, “He can’t go a full conversation without flirting with someone. He’d cheat on me within the hour.”
Anubis at least had to agree with that. “Reshep then, he was quite a warrior.”
You raised a brow “Is he even around anymore? Besides, Qadesh would have a snake around my throat in seconds.” You shivered at the idea. Qadesh was always sweet, but that wasn’t someone you were up to testing.
Anubis huffed, the room falling silent for a moment. “I supposed the mortal will do.”
Steven.
He was alone in the flat, he knew that much. Unless he counted Fake Gus, which he wasn’t going to do.
“Hello?” Steven’s head whipped around, looking over his flat from his position.
Steven, you need to stop.
The voice was familiar. The kind of familiar that stings in the back of your mind, as if you aren’t quite sure where you know it from. Had he met them before? Maybe an old friend? A neighbor?
Neighbor, it had to be neighbor.
“Who said that?” He questioned, taking some weary steps toward the center of his flat. It wasn’t the cleanest, which made it hard to see if anyone was there.
You’re gonna get yourself in trouble. Don’t get him involved.
“Oh, no no no, mate,” Steven muttered, nervously chuckling. “Someone’s having a laugh.”
He looked into the mirror to his side, certain he saw his reflection glaring.
“Oh god, oh god.” When he focused, he could only see himself. No one else was there, no one else could be there.
Steven. Stop looking.
The voice was firm, as if speaking to an out of hand child. A pawn that had moved a step out of line.
He swung open the door, spotting nothing. He let out a heavy sigh, muttering ‘bloody hell’ under his breath.
The calm didn’t last long though.
It was taller than him. Much, much taller.
It stalked over him like a predator gazing at weak prey. As if it knew he was nothing more than an ant. And above all, it was fucking terrifying.
He could see through it’s skull, the large, cavernous eyes glaring through him. It looked surprisingly regal, even as it chased him down the halls, the overhead lights blinking rapidly.
It was a bird, that much was obvious. But it most certainly wasn’t alive.
The skin was completely missing, and it sported the body of a human being, a human much to tall to be… well, human.
He wanted to sob. He wanted to scream and run, and he found himself launching into the elevator, pinned to the back as it slowly stalked down the hall.
He made eye contact, or at least he thought he did. The empty sockets made it hard to tell where the creature was gazing.
He was preparing for whatever bony talons it had to come out and grab him when a woman appeared out of nowhere.
“Hold the door,” She said calmly. Thankfully she was close, because Steven had in no way processed her request.
“Thank you,” She offered, nodding at him nervously.
As his heart began to slow, he realized he was half on the ground, probably staring at the woman like she was mad.
“Hiya,” he said nervously, giving her a timid wave as he attempted to recompose himself.
“Hi,” she said, not looking at him for too long. “You alright?”
“Fine, thank you,” He reassured, trying not to let his voice crack. “Just… lost my contact lens.” He propped himself up, standing with the assistance of the rail behind him. Honestly, he was still dizzy from running with so much adrenaline pumping through him.
“Hope you find it.”
The ride was quiet and awkward, though Steven hoped the poor lady didn’t hate him despite how disheveled he was.
“Electrical problems in the building, innit?” He questioned, silently hoping someone besides him had seen everything earlier.
He was gather that the answer was no from how confused the woman looked. “Always the same, innit?” She nervously laughed, clearly uncomfortable. Unfortunately, Steven was just as uncomfortable, and he hardly noticed the way she shifted away from him.
“Are we back on the fifth floor?” Steven didn’t even remember going down. How long was he sitting in the elevator for?
“Yes the fifth,” The woman spoke as the doors opened. “My friend Claire lives here, I’m visiting her. She’s expecting me.”
She pounded on the door, waiting for someone to open it while repeatedly glancing at Steven as the elevator doors closed.
Steven would’ve felt worse it he was more focused. His heart was still beating fast, air still unable to stay in his lungs. As if he just couldn’t inhale enough.
The next day wasn’t much better.
He swore he spotted the skeletal bird again on his way to work. That and the man from his dream was following him.
He tried to brush it off, he really did. But even though he knew he sounded insane, he still asked J.B. not to let anyone in. Not that he agreed.
It wasn’t until he saw the man from the bus again that he truly freaked out.
Your day was less eventful so far. Donna had complimented another of your suits for the third time that day, Anubis was chatting about how he disliked Marc, and the museum was just as full as usual.
It wasn’t until you saw Harrow sneaking around that you thought anything was amiss.
You approached him without hesitation, hoping Steven wouldn’t spot him.
“Is this your brightest plan?” You questioned, looking over the odd group who seemed to linger by him, no doubt his followers. “You had to know I’d be here, or did I evade your sight?”
He looked slightly surprised, though you had to admit that he covered it well. If you were human you might’ve missed it. It seems he truly didn’t expect you there. Interesting.
“The half-god. Have I done something to upset you?” He questioned. Half was a techniq
“The half-god. Have I done something to upset you?” He questioned. Half was a technicality, but who was really keeping track at this point.
“Leave Steven out of this. He doesn’t have your scarab. Move on to whatever being you have murder next.”
Harrow only hummed at your words, opening his mouth to retort when another voice interrupted.
“Y/n…?” Steven’s meek voice drew your attention. He looked confused, as if he’d spent time gathering the courage just to say something. “Do… do you know him?”
You glared at Harrow, watching as he completely turned his back to you. A bold move.
“Not in a way that matters.”
“So you really do work here,” Harrow began, disrupting your conversation with Steven.
Steven mumbled something under his breath, nervously grasping at the strap of his bag.
“I assumed ‘Steven Grant’ was an alias. Imagine my surprise to find you here.” Part of you was pissed that Steven had to mention his actual name, though you knew Harrow would’ve found him either way.
“Ronnie!” Steven turned, trying to grab the attention of a nearby security guard. “This man right here has been following me, now, I don’t know if—”
Steven was cut off by the guard rolling up his sleeve, revealing a tattoo of balanced scales. “Praise Ammit.”
Steven looked surprisingly hurt, “Ronnie? You’re part of this?” He huffed at the lack of response, turning back to Harrow. “Mate, I don’t have your bloody beetle. I swear.”
That wasn’t exactly a lie, Steven didn’t have the beetle. The issue was that Marc did.
“Oh, no. The scarab doesn’t belong to me, it belongs to her.” Harrow gestured to a painted figure, the art chipping slightly. “Do you know Ammit?”
“Do I know Ammit? No, not personally,” Steven joked, growing increasingly uncomfortable when neither Harrow nor his men saw the humor. “Egyptian deity, right? World’s first bogerman.”
“She was only the ‘bogeyman’ for evildoers.” Harrow insisted.
“...right…” Steven mumbled, backing off a bit from the man in front of him.
“She grew weary of having to wait for sinners to commit their crime before punishing them. Would you wait to weed a garden until after the roses were dead?” Harrow took a threatening step forward, forcing Steven to take a step back.
He shook his head nervously, “I wouldn’t do that.”
“Ammit would wash the world with innocent blood and leave no one left,” You insisted. You didn’t know her well, you barely knew her at all, really. She was the second god to ever be condemned, right after your father.
“Until a person commits an evil act, they’re innocent,” You explained. “Besides, what about the guilty who have innocent children? Ammit would destroy innocent children and family lines without a second thought. Or do you believe those innocent children should be tortured simply for having an ‘evil’ parent?”
Harrow turned to you now, though he didn’t let his sight fully leave Steven.
“Of course not. Ammit only punishes those who deserve it.” His words were hardly true. “The justice of Ammit surveys the whole of our lives. Past, present, and future.”
He turned back to Steven, watching the man nervously nod in agreement, whispering a quiet “got it”.
“She knows what we’ve done,” Harrow insisted, his voice growing more firm. “What we will do.”
“Great, okay. Well, the books must’ve left that part out.” You admired Steven for joking, but with how frightened he looked, you weren’t sure he was joking.
“Consider this, had Ammit been free, she would’ve prevented Hitler and the destruction he wrought,” Harrow’s voice grew louder, gesturing out as he stepped forward. Steven stepped back, avoiding the man as best he could.
“Nero, the Armenian genocide, Pol Pot.”
“Not nice people.” At this point Steven was running on pure survival instinct, though you hoped he knew you wouldn’t let anything happen to him. Not until you were long dead.
“But she was betrayed.”
“Was she,” Steven questioned, looking around for a way out.
“By indolent fellow gods.” Harrow turned to you with aggression. You didn’t regret anything of course, Ammit was a danger. It was all a blur really, after Set was taken out of the Annead, Anubis took his place. He had done most of the heavy lifting. Ammit most likely blamed you too, though. “By her own avatar.”
Now that you remembered. Alexander the Great. Admittedly, he was pretty great.
“‘Avatar’, blue people. Love that film.” Steven clutched his bag closer, more frantic about leaving. You took a step closer, ready to jump in the second Harrow tried anything.
“By Avatar, what I mean—”
“You mean the anime?”
“Steven. Stop it.”
Steven froze, his voice fading before he spoke softly. “Are you going to kill me?”
“He won’t touch you,” You reassured, reminding Harrow of your presence.
“It’s maddening, isn’t it. The voice in your head. Relentless, forever unsatisfied.” Harrow likely meant Khonshu, but with Marc in his head, Steven was overwhelmed. “No matter how hard you try to please, it devours you until there’s nothing left but a hollow shell. And the more you ask for help, the more you begin to sound like the boy who cried wolf.”
Steven had calmed ever so slightly, though he still reminded you of a frightened cat preparing to run. “I can’t help you,” He shook his head rapidly, as if trying to convince Harrow.
“I am trying to help you.”
“Don’t pretend.” Your eyes narrowed, watching Harrow like a hawk stalking its prey.
“I saw you kill that woman in the Alps.” Steven said as firmly as he could manage, taking a small step toward you.
“I only told her what millions more will soon learn.”
“They don’t need to learn,” You argued back, your tone firm. If anything, you’d prefer Harrow to focus on you instead of Steven. But Marc was at the center of everything, and as far as Harrow knew, they were one and the same.
“Do you want to know the truth?” Harrow firmly grabbed Steven’s arm, bringing his forearms forward.
“Don’t you touch him Harrow,” You said, stepping closer.
Almost immediately, you were grabbed by two other people. They held onto your forearms, subtly, but firmly. It was enough for any outsiders to think you were just a weird group of friends. It was for the best really, the last thing you needed was civilians getting involved.
Harrow’s arms gripped Steven’s tightly, the dark scale tattoo shifting.
Steven was innocent, that much you knew. But by Ammit’s standards? Marc wasn’t. And you had no idea how she’d assess them.
“...there’s chaos in you.” Harrow’s words were quiet, you barely heard them from a few feet away.
“There’s what?” Steven questioned, expression turning serious.
You sighed, deciding you’d had enough. No, you didn’t feel like explaining magical powers to the police, but it was worth the risk.
Dark particles swirled around your hands, golden specks littered throughout them.
You sent out a pulse of energy, forcing your captor’s hands away from your wrists.
Harrowed turned around to face you, realizing you were a more prevalent threat. You nodded to Steven, who thankfully got your message and left.
You kept the energy covering your hands, a silent threat to everyone around you.
“You know I’m not one to anger gods,” Harrow began.
He was riding a thin line with you. Though a small percentage, you were still part human. But as the son of Set… well… people didn’t tend to mess with the son of evil incarnate.
The real question was how far Harrow was willing to go… how far he’d test the little protection Ammit offered.
None of the gods would defend her, and you doubted they’d defend him. But Harrow wasn’t known for being reasonable.
“You of all people should understand,” Harrow claimed. “Isn’t your title the ‘God of Balance’? With Set gone, they need a demigod to replace him.” Though, technically, he hadn’t said anything wrong, you felt defensive nonetheless. Bringing up your father wasn’t a good route for anyone to take.
“If you know me, then you know damn well I’m not a fan of Ammit.” You knew Ammit remembered you. She had to.
“Perhaps,” Harrow relented. “But I know you understand her.”
Harrow stepped back, waving off the rest of his followers. As much as you wanted to argue, you were happy to see him go.
The only thing that made you freeze up, was when you caught Steven’s eye in the doorway.
tags: @queenofthekill @bigdog310 @yumeillu @annoyingmarvelreader @flaminbread @howlingmoonaite @kr-mlk @zayisbored @sl33pyt1r3 @pshhbam @spicydonut25 @dilf-licker @what-the-heckin-heck @murdickdocked @some-times-funny @manlypinky @silvercrescentwolf @winxschester @vlktorheartssage @ravenqueen27
