Chapter Text
Chapter One
“You can’t run away from this!”
The echo of the words shouted at his retreating back still swirled through the fog of his brain whenever he was right at the peak of his revelry and it was fucking irritating .
Non stai scappando se hai intenzione di tornare , he reasoned internally.
And besides- I never signed up for any of it.
The first three years had flown by before he had a brush with any of his father’s lot.
By that point he had changed his name, ditched the accent almost altogether and had been shacked up with a pretty young thing named Olivia for the last few weeks.
Things had settled into something of a rhythm by then, which meant that he was starting once again to feel restless.
It always manifested as something like a light buzzing right at the base of his skull- an itch that couldn’t be scratched and as such it caused his attention to begin its wandering once again.
It didn’t help that in the last few days Olivia had begun hinting at an interest in a more permanent domestic lifestyle.
It was the fifties after all and, no matter what indifference she had claimed during their first night together, she was a young woman of the times and her gaze was being pulled in the tantalizing direction of her friends’ wedding plans.
It was in the midst of yet another one of Olivia’s attempts at nonchalantly bringing up the invitation to her cousin’s wedding that he had quietly slipped out of the apartment, heading sullenly down to the bar at the corner for an escape.
He cursed himself for leaving his hat upstairs as rain began to fall and quickened his pace.
Ducking under the awning at his destination, he took some time to light a cigarette and gazed unseeing out into the downpour.
It was a shame about Olivia.
They had met at a local block party during a fireworks display and he had had to use a surprisingly small amount of his charm to convince her that his lips were far sweeter than the ice cream cone that she had been working on.
The melting treat had found its place in the waste bin while the two of them had stolen away behind some bushes, their lust ignited under the exploding sky and their kisses sticky with vanilla.
He was scheming to find a way out of attending the wedding when his head suddenly snapped up, his posture straighter than it had been a moment before.
Squinting through the rain, his stormy eyes sought the shape of anything remotely human headed his way, but could find nothing.
Just as he was beginning to doubt himself, he felt a presence looming suddenly behind him and immediately jolted away and out into the downpour.
Before he could take another step, a strong grip caught his arm and yanked him back under the awning.
Turning to his captor with a snarl, he was met with teeth far sharper than his own.
Still, he did his best to hide his unease, instead tapping into his reserves of resentment.
“Get the hell off of me you blockhead!”
Unfazed, the larger man blinked slowly down at him with flat grey eyes and rumbled out a response.
“You are to be collected.”
Yanking his arm free, he smoothed his now damp hair back in an irritated gesture.
“Like hell I am- I’m not going anywhere with you.”
“I have my orders master Luca-”
“It’s just Luke now.”
“Whatever you call yourself does not change your fate.”
“I’m not going back.”
“It is non-negotiable.”
“This is what he has you doing now, Fumo? Acting as a sitter, a go-alonger instead of a fighter?”
“I have my orders and my path won’t be changed by-”
“Fanculo i tuoi ordini- Spero che un segugio infernale caghi nel tuo letto!”
Luke cursed himself as two staggering patrons made their way out of the bar, glaring at him suspiciously for his outburst.
He had gone to great lengths to assimilate and in the last year had given up speaking Italian all together.
Americans were funny about who they shared their spaces with and by all accounts he had been able to pass as one of them even if he didn’t agree with their narrow views.
Just as the two drunk men were rounding on him, they caught something in Fumo’s glare that made them think twice and they quickly hurried out into the rain.
Sighing, Luke rubbed his temples and addressed the larger man again, this time in a calmer tone.
“Did you want to be a ghoul your whole life, Fumo?”
“I was born a ghoul, young master.”
“Right. Right and I was born what I am. We were both given no choice in the matter and choice is one of the greatest gifts that Lucifer offers his children.”
There was a pause as the ghoul seemed to be considering his words.
Pressing on, Luke’s tone took on a whisper of persuasiveness, his gift of charm weaving its golden thread into the words.
His craft was as yet unhoned, but he had so far been able to charm the knickers off of three virgins, con his way into four jobs and finesse cash out of a half a dozen pool sharks all before getting the hell outta dodge.
“If you could choose to be anything, Fumo what would it be?”
Another, longer pause while Luke hunted in his pocket for another smoke, his previous one now a pale, spongy worm lying in the rain.
Finally, after the flick of the lighter and the first steadying exhale, a response in baritone cut through the silence.
“I would play music.”
Luke blinked in surprise.
“A musician, Fumo really? I’m surprised- what, like the violin? Maybe a nice lively trumpet?”
His sharp eyes caught the slightest awkward shift of the ghoul’s broad shoulders as he replied with another, even lower rumble.
“I like Elvis’ music.”
Luke let out a bark of a laugh, which he quickly stifled at Fumo’s smoky glare.
“No I, scusi- But, Fumo so do I! That’s fantastic! You have good taste! That’s the music of the future, none of this humdrum society club spazzatura. Sto morendo di noia- fudge, every time I’m near the affluent- cripes, it’s all fribble trash.”
Above him, the ghoul chuckled, taking a moment to steal some of the smoke from the cigarette and forming a swirling ball in his large hands.
“You are hiding so much of yourself just to walk with them… why? They would covet you if they truly knew what awaits.”
Luke scoffed, flicking some ash onto the damp concrete.
“Don’t be so sure. Anyway- there are no rules out here! Whole world of opportunity and things change so fast! The cars, the picture shows, the women- ”
Here he allowed himself a small, vulgar groan, his eyes closing as he momentarily forgot his current predicament with Olivia and was lost for a moment in the memory of her parted thighs before he collected himself.
“-And the music Fumo! Even just before I left, your pal Elvis was an unheard of thing! Look-”
He gazed unseeing at the swirling orb still trapped in the ghoul’s huge mitts, the idea of his future a darkness that he was still determined to evade.
“I’m not saying I’ll never come back. But you know once I do it’s written in stone- a done deal until the day someone much bigger than you comes to collect me.”
Fumo finally released his hold on the smoke, letting it drift through his fingers as their eyes locked and Luke continued.
“So just let me go. Let me have my freedom for just a bit longer so I can be in this world for a while before I’m trapped in my father’s.”
Ghoulish gray eyes held the still-human greens for a few moments longer before the larger man finally spoke.
“I cannot disobey a direct order to provide your whereabouts, but… at least I can delay my response for a while.”
Hardly believing his good luck, Luke felt a wide grin overtake his face even as Fumo waved him off.
“But you will need to leave here. I can give you at most two hours before other ghouls will come to seek you out.”
Luke took a final drag on his cigarette before flicking it out into the rain, tugging the collar of his coat up around his ears.
“That’s an hour more than I’ll need and I’ll be long gone from this podunk town.”
Reaching out, he took the ghoul’s large hand in his and gave it a firm shake.
“Thank you for this, my friend. Dico davvero . And hey, listen you ruffian- don’t let up on your love of good music! Just because my father still worms around in the cellar dust of pipe organs and Gregorian snobbery doesn’t mean that his ghouls have to do the same.”
Fumo chuckled and shook his head, amused at how Luke always managed to focus his energy on the less important things.
He hadn’t even asked after the boy!
Giving a parting wave, he watched as his paroled captive loped off through the rain, his long-legged stride taking him in the opposite direction of the apartment from which he had come.
Lingering for a moment longer, Fumo decided he would head inside and have a beer or two before taking his time to report back to the others, giving Luke the spare time he had promised.
After all, the young master was still a boy himself at the age of 40 and would continue to look 25 until his father’s far-reaching talons finally found their mark.