Snippet #2608290

What a lovely evening. Hale was peachy, pale flesh of his cheeks flushed with the rush of token intoxication as he stepped onto the front porch. A thin leather lace of his dress shoe had come undone during his stroll, elbows nearly rubbing betwixt himself and Silas. He paid no mind. Smoky clouds sidled across the sky and like raptorial snakes, wrapped themselves about the moon and shot the light from the front path of Robichaux. The night had become excellently dark. Unusual, though. Generally speaking, the subconscious urges at play kept the moon high and full, thanks to Hale. Allowed it to spill ivory luminescence freely for playful witches and warlock alike. But, tonight, it was disappearing. No work of his own. A sign? No, just his ability dimming because of whiskey. He laughed to himself. A virile hand slapped emptily at ebony slacks, until Hale’s eyes lowered to his feet and an ill-matched grin stole at the corner of his mouth. Silas had followed, studious and respectful. Lingered at the Council operative’s side.

The leggy young man, now Hale’s companion of the evening, rocked indiscriminately. His weight was rested in the soles of his feet. Hale turned his head slightly, height of his jaw slack as he sighed and tried to casually allude to his briefing of the Abernathy file, “As much as I would like to keep you the best kept secret, much to my own selfish pleasure, I do think that you should open up about banishment. It would make you an unusually strong ally, not to mentioned a desired essence to Council.” For a moment he locked stares with Silas. The student’s eyes widened at the comment, perhaps interest, and more so disbelief.

“Yes, that’s right. I think of myself as a modest and level man, most days. I do like to also consider myself aware and alert. It’s no secret that I work for Council, and that is mostly, my sole purpose of teaching here at Robichaux.” His eyebrows bounced at odds for a moment. Tendencies to be quirky broke through his composure and ate away at his inebriation. He placed a heavy and sincere hand on Silas’ generally cashmere shoulder, “Forgive me, Silas. I know this is coming off as boozy babble. But now that I’ve got some fresh air and silence around me, I’m pretty much levelheaded. I must admit that I’ve scanned your file more than once. Before, and after your arrival. What is most uncanny is you are roomed with another highly sought out ‘ally’. That is no coincidence. But you strike me as a more realistic and reserved student. Someone who would take all of this into careful appreciation and consideration before zipping away or rolling your eyes, or flipping your ridiculously purple, soft - - “ one of his eyes squinted. “Her hair it - it amazes me. It reminds me of a plush toy. I’m sorry. I get caught up in it. Leave it to me to be endlessly curious about how she keeps the color rather than why she takes midnight sandwich walks completely naked.”

His grip on Silas slackened as he burst into his usual zany fit of laughter. Hastily he constituted himself again. He pulled Silas close, lips almost pressed to the boy’s hair as he spoke, “You are much too extraordinary to simply study and be taught. You must teach and be known. Tell me, do you smell the necromancy in the air? See, I thought you might. You must be no stranger to the likes of the king of the underworld. You must have met him many times, whether you were keen to or not. So is it just I, who smells him here tonight, or do you, too?”

"This is quite fascinating!" He smiled cautiously. No sooner than he pulled away, expecting a reply, did Pell come sprawling about the stairs. First she scrabbled, then she swathed the banister and heaved. Hale remained silent, stood upright. His mandible now tensed. Rain began to fall around them, forcing all of the scents of the evening to pack into one steady flow of precipitation that coursed through the gardens and beneath the rose bushes. That was when it hit him. The smell of butchery, and the fading essence of Legba himself. The fear in Pell’s eyes wrote it all, and offhandedly, Hale glanced to his associate, and perhaps, new friend. Silas was bewildered, but certainly aware of the tone of what was happening. “You will find yourself very valuable soon.”

Someone had died, and someone had seen death itself.

He tried to approach Pell, even selfishly seizing the opportunity to touch the puck lavender locks as he cooed like a worried grandmother. With a ferocious back swing, she slapped his digits away before he could make a further advance on her comfort. The brief touch he had made, finger tips to her shoulder, told him what he needed to know. It wasn’t enough to heal her. But she had seized not more than five minutes earlier, and her brain cells were snapping into action, paranoia and anger fusing like a bad cocktail. He stepped back, nodding as a nonchalant young man, suave, came to her aid and wrapped an arm around her. “Very well, I do hope to speak with you later, Pell. I can’t imagine meeting with someone who was eager to take your soul, being remotely pleasant for you.” It was out of turn. Hale never spoke this way. But this was an exception.

Without caution or further empathy, he escorted Silas back into the madness, where neither would be surprised to hear the terror in Jacqueline’s shrieking. “She’s dead, eaten.” He whispered it, and repeated in passing to Cordelia. The staff would exercise no great fear or horror. They would treat it as a routine that was to be dealt with swiftly and cleanly. With an appreciative smirk, a secret and understanding between Silas and Hale, he stepped away from the Abernathy boy and attended to duty. Fiona’s stern voice echoed from above. Instructions were clear.

Cordelia had pressed Kyle, Greyson and Jacqueline into the hall. Madison’s door slammed, Fiona behind it, or, that was Hale’s best guess. The ferocity of the lock on the door rung out as deathly silence suddenly quaffed the academy. Whether anyone wanted to be or not, they were now all locked and stuck. Nobody was leaving Robichaux. Hale, with courteous grace, tying his shoe lace, muttered, “Alriightttty then.” Diverting and mystifying was not a choice. In spite of his personality, he stood rigid and austere. He watched Jacqueline crack under the coercion of seeing a partially devoured classmate, her tawny skin pricked with goosebumps as she melted into Kyle’s lifeless form. Hale did feel rather terrible. But it wasn't appropriate now, to hug and croon. “Everyone downstairs and into the lounge. I mean everyone.” Hale had managed to get behind them and steer them down the steps, where Aden still was nowhere to be found.

When Rowe was unhappily herded through the front door, the quandary involving a seemingly rootless seizure in Pell had come upon answers. Hale eyed the young boy, taking in his darkness and anxiety etched in his mouth. Guilty. Afraid. Something certainly wrong had taken place with Pell and Rowe knew something about it. Not to mention, a murderer was on the loose. Legba had even decided to drop in. Voices and cries arose among whispers again, the sound of panic. He would not maintain patience for this mass mania. A harrowing lick of thunder rumbled and shook the house as Hale shouted, “Everyone calm down!” Hale paced, packing a coffer of cigarettes while the heads of the household assessed damage on the floor above. “McDermott!” Hale yelled, commanding the boy to the front of the room. “Pell Laveau, we have some things to discuss. Unfortunately your twitching and bloody nose have given me reason to suspect you might know about something that Council, the Supreme, and Cordelia, do not. I will not spare you the humiliation of having the entire academy witness this, we all have jobs to uphold.” Hale seized the young woman’s arm, dragging her toward the foot of the stairs along with Rowe, leaving a flummoxed and frightened crowd behind.

He clutched Rowe’s shoulders, leaned into him with a grimace that meant nothing but business, “You do know that you sent a personal invitation to Legba by letting your rage get the better of you, don’t you? You are almost exclusively responsible for a seal being broken, not to mention the jeopardized safety of your classmates. And if that wasn’t bad enough, you let your emotions incapacitate and gravely wound Pell.” Stiffly he turned to face Pell, still broadly announcing all of this in front of the coven, “Your hands are not clean. You’ve allowed not one but two strangers to perforate Ceremony. And since you have had individual interaction with Papa Legba, you and Rowe will be meeting with Council. Tonight."