Will you Walk into my Parlour?

They went to the tunnels. Where else could they go? The Eye couldn’t See down there, and neither it seemed, could the Web’s insidious strings reach. It helped of course that the Worm carcasses had never been properly cleaned up. Elias was far too squeamish to physically climb down and Martin well, he tended to avoid reminders of his death.

Jon grimaced as he dropped onto the wet and slimy rot. He was the last to climb down.

Tim caught his arm as he stumbled forward. “You alright?”

“I- yeah. Yeah.” Jon swallowed. “Are you?”

“No.”

 Jon wasn’t sure how to respond to that so he didn’t. Instead he stepped forward, placing a barrier between Tim and the others.

Basira had gone as far into the tunnels as she could convince herself to go. She eyed the rest of them warily.

“What,” Basira demanded, “the hell was that?”

All eyes turned to Jon. He took a deep breath. “That- that was Martin.”

“Martin.” Basira scoffed.

Jon wasn’t sure what more he was meant to say. “Yes?”

“I’m going to need a little more than that.”

Georgie stepped forward and Jon leaned backward on instinct.

“Jon,” her voice was deep and gentle. “Why don’t you sit down, yeah?”

Jon looked down at the cold stone, littered with rotting white carcasses. “… I’m good.”

“Right.”

“It’s good to see you?”

“Likewise.”

Tim was breathing short and rapid breaths. He held tightly onto Jon’s arm to steady himself.

Jon turned. “Hey- hey. Deep breaths.” He’d never seen Tim like this before. Jon wished he knew what to do.

His knees gave out and Jon struggled to catch him. Georgie helped, and together they hauled Tim up, bracing him against the wall.

Jon and Georgie shared a look.

Jon pulled off his coat. He kicked at the worm carcasses until he cleared a big enough space and then laid it down. With Georgie’s help he guided Tim down and sat beside him. There was just enough space for both of them to sit on the coat, though it was a bit of a tight squeeze.

“We’re safe Tim,” Jon said. “For now at least.”

Tim curled in on himself. He was quiet.

Jon wished he could say more, but he wasn’t one for lying.

There was a quiet sound and Tim shook beside him. He was crying, Jon realized. Oh god. He had no idea what to do.

Basira stepped closer, though it was clear even to Jon that she didn’t want to. “We don’t have time for this.”

Georgie glared at her. Jon had been on the receiving end of that one a few times. It was far from fun.

“I’m sorry, who are you?”

Basira reached into her jacket pocket, pulling out her wallet and badge. “Basira Husain, London PD.”

“Hmm.” Georgie’s eyes narrowed further. She’d never trusted the police. That Basira’s skin was nearly as dark as hers didn’t change that. Georgie was the last person who should be holding this conversation, all things considered. She wished Melanie were with them, but she knew, even without a fear instinct, that Melanie’s rage was not a targeted thing. The safest thing that any of them could have done was flee.

Jon wrapped an arm around Tim, rubbing circles into his shoulder. He didn’t have the words to fix this.

Georgie caught his eye again. He grimaced as she turned back to Basira.

“No one here has committed any crimes.”

Basira’s eyes flitted to Jon.

“That creepy old man just admitted to that one.”

To Georgie’s immense surprise, the cop backed down. Basira cleared a worm free spot and sat on her coat, across from Jon and Tim. Slowly, eyes trained on her, Georgie followed suit.

“I think I’m going to quit.”

Georgie blinked slowly. “What?”

“I’ve been considering it for a while now. Ever since the Reiner case. Fucked up one, that. But I talked with that. That thing, with… Martin. He convinced me to stay on.”

Jon winced. “He’s very persuasive.”

“I’m sure.”

Basira took a deep breath and let it out slowly. She let her head fall against the wall behind her. “Why the worm tunnels?”

Jon answered. “Martin doesn’t like to come down here.”

“Your Martin just got his head hacked off.”

“I’m aware.”

“Shit,” Basira sat up straighter. “You think he’s still alive?”

Tim’s breath hitched. Jon shifted closer.

“Call me cautious.” That was a much nicer word for paranoid.

“How the hell could anything survive that?”

Anyone, Jon corrected in his head. He didn’t say it aloud. That particular argument was far less important than… whatever had happened the last few hours. Even with the aid of the Eye, Jon’s understanding of everything was entirely incomplete. “I would Know if Martin had died. Believe me.”

Basira’s eyes narrowed. “How?”

“He hasn’t died,” Georgie confirmed, and for a moment the shine left her eyes and her skin turned ashy. The moment passed.

Basira turned slowly away from Georgie, eyes setting on a particularly fascinating worm carcass.

It was quiet for a long while. Eventually Tim calmed, enough to wipe his eyes and stretch his arms. He still wasn’t speaking.

“Better?” Jon tried.

Tim didn’t shrug or nod or give any indication that he’d heard Jon at all. He simply stared, near catatonic, at the space right in front of him.

Jon didn’t press him further.

Martin’s web, Jon noticed, had crawled further up Tim’s arm. Jon catalogued the information for later.

“So,” Georgie finally spoke. “What now?”

Jon reached for the eye. He saw Melanie, a spatter of blood painting a line across her face. “It’s not safe to go out yet.”

“Why not?”

Jon set his mouth in a line. That was exactly the sort of question he’d been hoping she wouldn’t ask. “Melanie is… well she’s not quite an avatar yet I don’t think. She should still be able to calm down but right now she- well she-”

Basira jumped in. “She can feel the blood?”

“…yes.”

“That’s what my partner calls it. The blood rush, the thrill of the case.”

“It’s not quite the same for Melanie.”

“Yes. I can see that.”

“Basira…” Jon swallowed. “Where is Daisy?”

Basira jolted straighter, forehead creased in abrupt realization. “I don’t… I don’t know.”

Jon tried to look. Maybe it was the tunnels, after all the Eye was weaker down here. Static rose in his eardrums as he grasped and dug towards knowledge that never came. What he found was inky and black and it stabbed at his sight.

The static fell. Jon slumped against the wall.

Wait. They just had to wait

…

It was hours later when a sound jostled Tim awake. He must have fallen asleep at some point, with his head nestled in the crook of Jon’s shoulder. Jon tightened his grip on him, bracing one hand on the wall to stand up.  Basira was on her feet in a few seconds

The sound of rusted metal creaking open was punctuated by a beam of light. A figure dropped down from above, turning to point a torch right at them.

Basira’s hand went straight to her holster. She didn’t keep a gun there, not like Daisy, but her taser would do. The force had offered her one, when she’d been sectioned, but she saw the glint of Daisy’s teeth and decided against it.

“Hussain?”

Basira let out a breath. She screwed her eyes shut for just a moment to compose herself. “Declan. Hey.”

Declan grinned wide, “Didn’t expect to see you down here.” He flicked his flashlight, taking a cursory glance around. “Daisy not here then?”

“No.” Basira considered her fellow officer. “Declan- what are you doing here?”

His smile dropped. He eyed Georgie and Jon and Tim. “We should talk. Away from the, uh… civilians.”

They all climbed up the ladder, into the archives and then out, up the steps and through the lobby and onto the curb. There was an ambulance there, though they were too far away to see who or what was being loaded inside.

She spotted other officers from section 31. They swarmed the others, to take down their statements or at least to look as though they had. It was, once again, chaos, but it was a chaos Basira was familiar with. Despite herself Basira found a certain comfort at the sight.

“Declan,” Basira tried again, “someone must have called this in. Who-?”

Declan squeezed Basira’s shoulder. His fingernails were sharper than they should have been. He waved at his partner, Johnson from across the way. He was questioning a very stiff looking Tim. Johnson nodded back firmly, mouth set in a hard line.

“Not here, yeah? Too many cameras.”

Basira felt her heart drop to the bottom of her stomach.

They took Declan’s squad car. He assured her that Johnson would find his own way back to the station.

“You’d better sit down,” Declan said, and he handed her a beer.

Basira took it, more out of habit than anything else. “Declan what-”

“It was Daisy, wasn’t it?”

Basira’s thoughts raced. He couldn’t- no. That wasn’t possible. Basira filled with a singular point of dread. She knew what he meant, exactly what he was implying but she hadn’t thought... No. She must be wrong. Paranoia must have gotten to her. It was only a matter of time after all, hiding a secret as big as Daisy’s.

“Hussain,” Declan sighed. He scratched at his head, at a little patch that was beginning to bald. “…Basira. We know about the drop spot.”

Every one of Basira’s thoughts stopped in their tracks. In fact it seemed to her as if the whole world had stopped.

“You don’t have to lie to me, okay?” And Basira hated how sincere he sounded, how genuine concern leaked into his voice. “I know. We all know, have for a while now.”

Basira’s eyes snapped up. What Declan read in them was so viscerally wrong that she very nearly cried.

“Hey now,” Declan slid into the chair next to hers. “We’re going to stand by you and Daisy, don’t you worry. I know neither of you were on the docket today, but Johnson signed you in anyway after we got the call. And if anybody else comes poking around, you got a whole force full of alibi’s yeah?”

No. No no no no no no. This wasn’t supposed to happen, not at all and definitely not like this. She choked on a sob, and Declan placed a gentle hand on her shoulder. God, that made it so much worse. He wasn’t supposed to comfort her, he was supposed to arrest her, or at the very least question her, something, anything, but this.

She knew of course, the irony of that thought. Sectioned or no, it was always going to end like this.

“It’s going to be hell to bury this one,” Declan continued. “She’s usually much cleaner, very considerate.”

It wasn’t Daisy, of course, who created all those bodies in the upstairs office of the Institute, but that hardly mattered. T.he sort of fear Basira was feeling had little to do with Daisy at all

“Not much to bury other’n, well, bodies,” Declan joked. He went somber at Basira’s face, for all the wrong reasons. “Sorry.”

It’s fine, Basira remembers saying to all his other ill timed and ill advised jokes. It’s different now, she thinks except really it's not different at all.

Declan pratters on. “We’ll take care of you both, don’t you worry. You’re part of the team, part of the pack.”

There’s a weight in the way he says it. It was always there. She used to find comfort in it but now…

Basira stood.

“I think,” she willed her voice not to crack “I’d like to quit.”

“That might be smart,” Declan assured her, missing the point entirely. “Lay low a bit, especially since all those civilians saw you. No need to worry, you’ll still have a place in the pack once this all blows over.”

Basira handed over her badge and taser. As she did so, something snapped. Declan startled. His smile was sharp, not as sharp as Daisy’s but pointed in the same way Basira’s were- are. She still didn’t know what happened to Daisy. Basira had known for a while now that the bloodlust Daisy felt was something supernatural, but she’d never known how far it extended. Basira and Declan didn’t hunt the same way Daisy did, but that hardly mattered, did it?

“Permanantly?” He asked, and there was something wounded in the way he said it. “Are you sure?”

Basira swallowed thickly. “I’ve never been so sure of anything in my life.”

…

Basira made her way back to her and Daisy’s flat in a bit of a haze. So much had happened. Daisy was missing, and so was a sizeable chunk of Basira’s memories. She’d just watched a weird spider-thing be decapitated by a 4’11 woman she’d never met in her life. Then of course, there was… everything to do with Declan and the force and quitting her job.

She felt lighter than she had in a long time, even with everything that had happened. It was an odd feeling. Basira knew instinctively that she’d been on the edge. Had she waited much longer to quit she probably wouldn’t have been able to quit at all. The police force might have, but whatever that hunger was that took Daisy would have taken her too.

Basira turned her key in the lock of her building and traipsed upstairs. There were two men outside her door, perfectly average delivery men. Yet for some reason, Basira’s heart quickened in her throat.

“Well, hullo there miss,” one said in a truly awful attempt at a cockney accent. 

“Package delivery,” said the other.

Basira frowned. “I haven’t ordered anything.”

“Just need you to sign, ma’am.”

Basira stepped forward. That box looked awfully big. She might have forgotten about some online purchase or other but she would have remembered something of that size. Then again, maybe Daisy had ordered something. She’d been talking for a while now about getting a new mattress for the bed. 

Basira reached for the clipboard. She paused. Something about these two men wasn’t right. There were plenty of scammers about and those botched accents didn’t lend themselves well towards trustworthiness. This might be some mlm or pyramid scheme that would come looking after her after she failed to sell any of their shitty lotions or whatever it was. The box was certainly big enough to have a large stock of something or other. If it wasn’t, they’d hardly care about getting the wrong signature, and if it was then they could very well find someone else to annoy. She knew just the person.

Basira signed “Arthur Declan”, right where the taller man- or was it the short one, they looked so similar- had tapped to page.

The man took the clipboard back.

“Uh,” Basira said, “could use some help getting this inside.” 

The two men nodded, sharing a look with one another.

“Right, miss,” they said. Basira wasn’t sure which one.

Basira unlocked the door to her flat, and the two men carried it inside. Once they set it down and left, Basira locked the door behind her. She peeled away at the cardboard.

There was a coffin, key still in the lock, and a note.

“Do Not Open”