Bad Habits

"The Darling Twins? Honestly, haven’t we all had enough of them by now?” Seneca ruminated as he tried to placate what was now the de facto triumvirate of the Ophion Occult Order.
Once again, he had been summoned to Adderwood Manor to account for his lapses in judgement, but rather than being on full public display in the Grand Hall, he instead found himself in a relatively small parlour. Across from the coffee table in front of him sat Ivy Noir, with her sister Envy to her right and her husband Erich to her left. Standing just to the side of them was the trenchcoat and fedora-wearing automaton who called himself The Mandrake. The one-eyed dream-catcher carved into his iridescent face rendered his emotions unreadable, but the spellwork pistols holstered in his belt made it clear that he was prepared to defend his employers against anything.
“I mean, this feud between them and Emrys is laughable,” Seneca went on. “They’re no threat to him now that he’s free of his chains, surely? Before there may have been a tactical element to his obsession with them, but now it’s just plain petty. Petra’s just out for revenge, and don’t get me started on the absurdity of that eldritch realtor wanting to flip their playroom. Does he think he can just relabel their torture chambers as BDSM dungeons and pass the Black Bile infestation off as some mould?”
“Seneca, I promised Emrys the Darlings, and the Covenant that we all signed binds us to fulfill that promise,” Ivy reminded him patiently, dropping a cube of sugar into her ouroboros-themed antique teacup. “You knew the Darlings better than any of us. You inducted them into the Order, you used them as assassins and bodyguards, and you let them withdraw every penny they had in your bank when they were fugitives!”
“Well, first of all, Crow, Crowley & Chamberlain is a financial institution, not a bank,” Seneca said flippantly. “Secondly, they had a numbered account and they didn’t show up in person, so the teller didn’t have the slightest idea of who they were dealing with.”
“You still could have frozen the account before they had that opportunity,” Erich stated.
Seneca made a display of languidly stirring some cream into his tea and taking a slow sip before responding.
“I’m very busy,” he claimed without an ounce of sincerity.
“You just didn’t want to get on the Darlings’ bad side,” Ivy said.
“I wasn’t aware they had a good side,” Seneca shrugged.
“There must be a paper trail we can follow,” Envy insisted. “Did the Darlings keep their assets anywhere else besides your bank?”
“Financial institution, and yes, I’m sure they have a proverbial Swiss bank account, but I haven’t the slightest notion of where to find it,” Seneca claimed. “It has come up in conversation that James invested about twenty percent of his income with me, twenty percent elsewhere, and shoved another twenty percent under their mattress. Mary enjoys being shagged on top of money, apparently. Their services commanded quite a high price on the underworld market, and sixty-plus years of compound interest have made them incredibly wealthy. They can afford to lie low for a long while.”
“Even if they can go without a paycheck indefinitely, they can’t go without killing,” Erich countered. “They need to hunt, and their egos mean they aren’t just going to cower from Emrys inside their playroom. They’re going to be out looking for victims and plotting against us, and you know what spots they’re likely to hit.”
“You’re wasting your time. James has had decades to scout out hunting grounds, and I’m sure he prepared for the possibility – no, inevitability – that he and his sister would become our enemies. He’s not going to risk showing up within a hundred miles of any of our Chapterhouses if he doesn’t need to,” Seneca said dismissively.
Ivy opened her mouth to speak, but stopped when The Mandrake took a step forward for the first time since the meeting began. He reached into his pocket and tossed a red and white pack of cigarettes with a shiny silhouette of a stag onto the coffee table.
“What is this?” Erich asked.
“Satin Stag cigarettes,” The Mandrake said flatly before shifting his gaze to Seneca. “That’s the Darlings’ brand, isn’t it, Mr. Chamberlain?”
“Um, yes. I believe I’ve seen them smoke those once or twice. What of it?” Seneca asked, failing to hide the nervousness creeping into his voice.
“These are artisanal cigarettes, and Harrowick County’s the only place you can buy them,” The Mandrake said. “That means that the Darlings, either directly or indirectly, are going to have to make the occasional sojourn back home, and the limited supply of these hand-rolled coffin nails means they can’t stock up too far in advance either. You know Harrowick County better than any of us. You know who makes these, you know who sells them. That’s how we track down the Darlings.”
“That’s preposterous. Do you really think they’d risk coming to Harrowick County rather than just switch brands?” Seneca scoffed.
“The Very Important Person at Pascal’s told me that Mary said they’ve been smoking these since they were kids, so they’re clearly pretty attached to them,” The Mandrake replied. “And somehow, I don’t think they’re the type to ever give up a bad habit.”
***
“Smoke & Mirrors ~ Fine Tobacco Products. Silvano Santoro, Proprietor. Est. 1949,” Envy read aloud as she, Seneca and The Mandrake stood outside the small, heavily fortified brick building.
Cast iron bars crisscrossed the windows and front door, which looked like it stood a decent chance of withstanding a police swat team. Security was obviously the shop’s proprietor’s key concern, as the ugly brown and yellow awning was tattered and faded, and the paint on the sign was so chipped it was barely even legible.
“How exactly does an unnoticeable and unattractive hole in the wall like this stay in business?” Envy asked.
“Repeat customers,” Seneca replied as he took a confident step towards the door. “Silvano knows me, and he doesn’t normally have a problem with me bringing guests along, but I expect both of you to be on your best behaviour!”
Envy gave him a reassuring nod, but The Mandrake continued to stoically stare at nothing with his hands in his pockets. Rolling his eyes, Seneca pressed a bulky plastic button on the antiquated door buzzer.
“Yeah, who is it?” a harsh and smoke-damaged voice demanded.
“It’s Seneca, Silvano. A pleasure to make your acquaintance again as well!” Seneca answered. “Just looking to pick up a few cases of cigars for a party, if you’ve got anything decent in stock, of course.”
“Who’s that you got with you?” Silvano asked suspiciously.
“Envy Noir, sir. I’m here on behalf of my sister Ivy, investigating a matter of considerable importance to the Ophion Occult Order,” Envy promptly introduced herself, much to Seneca’s chagrin. “The gentleman beside me is my bodyguard. Would you be so kind as to let us in?”
“Ah… of course. Just a moment, please,” Silvano replied.
“What’s he need a moment to buzz open a door for?” The Mandrake demanded, his stance immediately switching to full readiness.
“Making the place presentable for customers, I assume,” Seneca explained in exasperation.
“You mean he’s hiding evidence, or he’s running!” The Mandrake shouted.
“He’s a nonagenarian heavy smoker. He couldn’t run if his life depended on it,” Seneca insisted.
“I’ll see about that,” The Mandrake muttered.
Shoving Seneca out of the way, he kicked the door in with barely any effort. Storming into the shop, he saw a wizened older man with thick white hair and rimmed glasses seated behind the front counter. His saggy, spotted skin was a living PSA against the products he peddled, and in his tobacco-stained hand, he held the receiver of an ornate rotary phone.
Staring at The Mandrake in cold fury, he calmly set the receiver back down in its cradle.
“Who were you talking to?” The Mandrake demanded.
“A client,” Silvano barked back with a shake of his head, picking up a burning cigarette from a nearby ashtray.
“Silvano, I am profusely sorry for this abject and uncouth behaviour! This being is no friend of mine, I can assure you,” Seneca asserted as he and Envy made their way inside.
“The feeling’s mutual, Chamberlain,” The Mandrake remarked. “Mr. Santoro, I apologize for the damage to the premises, but as Miss Noir has said, we’re here on urgent business.”
“Yes, that’s correct. We’ve been given to understand the Darling Twins are regular customers of yours,” Envy explained, before the smoke-saturated room sent her into a coughing spell. She fumbled around in her purse and pulled out a black N95 mask she had left over from the Pandemic.
“I’ve got plenty of regular customers,” Silvano replied defensively. “Customers who pay good money for that smoke you’re so offended by, young lady.”
“These ones have been coming here for over half a century and never aged a day,” The Mandrake said.
“That honestly doesn’t narrow it down that much,” Silvano chuckled, tapping his cigarette on his ashtray. “But yeah, I know the Darlings. What of it?”
“When was the last time they were here?” The Mandrake demanded.
“What’s it to you?” Silvano asked.
“They’re fugitives of the Order now and we want them brought in,” Envy replied, having donned her mask and mostly recovered from the smoke. “Mary Darling held a knife to my throat once in front of my sister, and later threatened to eat me alive in front of her and feed me to her pigs.”
“They were going to put me in their daughter’s doll collection,” The Mandrake muttered.
“And I have nothing but nice things to say about the Darlings, so I’m honestly not quite sure how I got dragged into this,” Seneca said. “That aside, it really would be of great help to us if you could share any information about them that you might have.”
“I don’t know what to tell you. They come in, they buy their smokes, they leave, just like most of my customers,” Silvano told them.
“But now they’re trying to lay low, so I’m guessing they’ve made some sort of arrangement with you to get their Satin Stag cigarettes without having to risk coming here in person,” The Mandrake said. “Maybe they set you up with one of their spare Retrovisions? Emrys said they had a few of those lying around, and they can use them as direct portals to their playroom.”
“Like they’d waste a fancy piece of technomancy like that on an old geezer like me. I haven’t seen them in months. Last year sometime, I think,” Silvano claimed.
The Mandrake casually strolled up to the front counter, rapping his fingers on the cheap glass display case.
“Real nice place you got here, Mr. Santoro. I mean, not really, but I’m sure you get the implication,” he said softly. “Ironic as it may be, a smoke shop isn’t exempt from municipal bylaws about smoking in public buildings and workspaces. You may not have had much trouble with local law enforcement before, but one phone call from my employers will change that real quick.”
“You think I’ve never been threatened before, punk?” Silvano asked, rising from his chair and staring him down.
“Boys, please, there’s no need for this,” Envy interjected. “Mr. Santoro, our Order has considerably more resources at its disposal than the Darlings, and we can certainly offer you a far greater reward for their capture than whatever they’re paying you for some cigarettes. You could retire; close this place down and get as far away as you like. How does that sound?”
“I’m not looking to retire, Miss. This business is all I’ve got, and it wouldn’t be good business to go around ratting out my best customers, now would it?” Silvano asked.
“It would be worse business to sacrifice everything you have to protect two customers,” The Mandrake threatened, his hands clamping down on the display cases so hard they began to creak. “Talk.”
Acknowledging him only with a furtive glance, Silvano took another drag from his cigarette and exhaled.
But this time, the smoke poured out from his mouth and nostrils without limit.
“What the hell?” The Mandrake cursed as he backed away.
Silvano pushed a button beneath the counter, putting his shop into lockdown with security shutters clamping down over every entrance point. As the smoke exuded from his body, it went limp and collapsed into a dried-out husk as the smoke coalesced into an animate form of its own, circling above them around the shop’s yellowed and textured ceiling.
“Damnit. Another egregore,” Envy muttered. “That explains his loyalties. The Darlings couldn’t eat him, but Emrys could.”
“So you’re saying we can’t negotiate it with it?” The Mandrake asked.
“Or fight it,” Envy clarified.
“In that case, it appears we’ve exhausted all our options. Time for a tactical retreat,” Seneca declared as he dashed for the now barricaded exit.
Whatever he was planning to do to get through it, the cloud of smoke cut him off before he got the chance. Rushing in through his nose and mouth, it immediately began suffocating him, sending him spasming to the ground as he choked for air.
The cloud assaulted Envy as well, but was unable to penetrate her mask.
“Godamnit, get away!” she shouted as she swatted it away from her burning eyes.
“Envy, get behind me now!” The Mandrake ordered as he drew out his pistols. “Sorry, Santoro, but you’re going to have to do a lot worse than that if you want to intimidate us!”
Seneca responded by gasping angrily and bashing his hand against the carpet.
“… A lot worse,” The Mandrake reiterated. “I may not be able to shoot you, but I will blow this health hazard you love so much to hell if you don’t tell me where I can find the Darlings!”
“There’ll be no need for that, Mr. Mandrake,” the voice of James Darling crackled in from some unseen speaker. A door off to the side slowly creaked open, revealing a Retrovision flickering with black and white static. The Mandrake wasted no time in shooting at it, but the bullets passed through the glass without causing any damage at all.
A hologram of James Darling manifested in the center of the room, a burning Satin Stag cigarette clutched neatly in his fingers. He saw Seneca suffocating on the floor, then turned his predatory and calculating gaze towards The Mandrake.
“Put the guns on the floor, and I’ll call Silvano off,” he offered.
The Mandrake didn’t seem to be the least bit tempted by this offer, but Envy tugged at his trenchcoat and gave him a commanding nudge. Reluctantly, The Mandrake tossed the guns to the carpet and placed his hands behind his head.
With only a single commanding wag of his index finger, the smoke cloud withdrew from Seneca’s lungs and collected itself above James like a thundercloud.
“No sense in killing you, Seneca. That would practically be doing Emrys a favour,” James said. “But Envy, what’s a pretty girl like you doing wearing a mask?”
“You’d better not let your sister hear you calling me that,” Envy taunted.
“Kind of you to worry, but it’s always the object of my flirtations who bear the brunt of my sister’s wrath,” James reminded her smugly. “Top-notch detective work tracking me down, Mr. Mandrake. Why don’t you walk in through the Retrovision and arrest me?”
“You knew we’d show up here looking for you. You were waiting for us,” The Mandrake growled.
“Again, brilliant detective work. You’ve truly earned that fedora,” James mocked him. “Yes, I knew you’d come here looking for us, so I’ve arranged for Mr. Santoro to set up shop inside our playroom. He was only hanging around here to set a trap for you. Let me tell you what’s going to happen. None of you, not even you, Mr. Mandrake, are going to be able to break out of this building. You can sit there and starve for all I care, or Miss Noir and The Mandrake could take their chances with us on the other side of the Retrovision. Sara Darling really would like to put you in her doll collection, Mr. Mandrake, and I can’t wait to tell Mary Darling exactly how pretty I think you are, Envy. If the two of you come across, I’ll let Seneca go and he can inform Erich and Ivy of your predicament. If they’d like to negotiate for your release, I… may be willing to consider it.”
“You’re a coward! If you’re going to threaten me, step across that screen and do it to my face!” the Mandrake ordered.
He took his hands off his head and took a step towards him, only for the acrid form of Silvano to interject itself between them. James took a casual drag from his cigarette, refusing even to flinch.
Envy took advantage of the distraction and grabbed the pair of spellwork pistols off of the floor, firing two rounds of consecrated lead into the limp body of Silvano. While the body didn’t react at all, the smoke cloud shook and screeched like a wounded animal, losing some of its integrity and dissipating across the room.
“That body’s not just a husk! Silvano’s bound to it!” Envy declared. “James, if you don’t let us go in the next thirty seconds I’ll have The Mandrake tear that body limb from limb and you’ll have to find some other cursed thoughtform to roll your cigarettes for you.”
The Mandrake looked back towards James who now, much to his satisfaction, had flinched.
“Thirty. Twenty-Nine. Twenty-Eight,” he began to count down as he theatrically cracked his knuckles.
Before James could come to a decision, a few wisps of smoke snaked their way back into Silvano’s body. They were enough to animate it like a string puppet, its limbs moving jerkily as it input the code to retract the security shutters over the doors and windows.
“There, happy?” James asked facetiously. “You’re free to leave. Put those guns down.”
With a smug smile, Envy shook her head.
“Mandrake, grab that body. We’re taking him with us,” she announced.
When Silvano tried to slam the lockdown button again, Envy shot him, knocking him back into his seat. Before he was able to try a second time, The Mandrake had closed the distance between them. He grabbed him by the waist and slung him over his shoulder, impotently kicking and flailing like a toddler having a tantrum all the while.
“No!” James growled, his hologram disappearing and being replaced by countless others scattered throughout the room.
“What the hell?” Envy demanded as she fell back beside The Mandrake for protection.
“It’s a distraction! Shoot at the Retrovision! He’s coming through to get Silvano!” The Mandrake shouted.
Envy complied, firing multiple rounds at every image of James between them and the Retrovision, but all of them sailed clear through their targets. The smoke cloud suddenly condensed tightly around them, and The Mandrake made a break for the front door while he had the chance.
He was tackled from the side by someone moving at over fifty kilometers an hour, knocking him down and halfway across the room. When he looked up, he was completely surrounded by silhouettes of James bending down in the smoke to pick up Silvano. Jumping to his feet, he made his way back towards the Retrovision in the hopes of cutting James off.
Or at least, he thought that’s where he was going. The tumble to the floor and the encircling smoke had disoriented him, and he ended up tripping over Seneca, who was once again unable to stand from the sickening smoke.
James brushed by them in a blur, and Envy fired every last bullet trying to put him down. Each one either missed or succeeded only in striking Silvano, who was slung over James’ back.
The smoke retreated with them, and The Mandrake dashed after them in one final bid to keep them from escaping. They were just feet away from him before they leapt through the Retrovision, vanishing into the basement universe of the Darlings’ playroom. The Mandrake dared to reach in after them and pull them back, but his hand hit nothing but solid glass.
“Damnit!” he cursed, striking the top of the box set with his fist.
“Don’t break it!” Envy shouted. “If that Retrovision came from the Darlings’ playroom and was modified by James, it could be useful in tracking them down again!”
“It also gives them a two-way ticket to wherever we keep it!” The Mandrake shouted back.
“Oh yes, it would be a gamble taking this old girl with you. No doubt about that,” the black and white visage of James mocked them from the other side of the screen, taking a victory drag from his cigarette. “But on the other hand, it is one of my finer works. It would be a crime, an atrocity even, to destroy it.”
The Mandrake struck the box set again, but deliberately held back on damaging it.
“Mandrake, enough!” Envy commanded. “I know it’s risky, but we need it. Turn it off and pick it up. We’re getting out of this hellhole.”
“Don’t feel bad, Mr. Mandrake. I’m sure you’ll have another chance to end up in Sara Darling’s doll collection very soon,” James taunted just before The Mandrake managed to turn the Retrovision off.
“What an absolute waste of time,” he muttered as he lifted the vintage box set off the floor.
“Not entirely!” Seneca claimed, who had not only recovered from his spectral smoke inhalation but was now holding an unlit cigar. “Crow, Crowley & Chamberlain has a lien on this shop, and since Silvano just ran out on us and has thrown his lot in with the Darlings, this place and everything left in it is ours!”
He was just about to light it before Envy snatched it out of his hands.
“The Mandrake wasn’t bluffing about the municipal health bylaws,” she informed him. “From now on, this is a smoke-free building.”
Category:The Vesper's Bell