“A marvelous deal, isn’t it?” Joel almost sang, leading his freshest customer out of the restaurant and handing him his coat, a picture of a gentleman. Joel had paid for them both, of course – with the money stolen from another patron – and the man was almost hooked. The naivety of some businessmen even in such a big city astonished Joel sometimes, but he wasn’t complaining so long as it provided a living for him and his family.

A deep look in the man’s eyes to seal the deal, a tiny hypnotic nudge in the right direction – maybe an overkill, but better to be safe than sorry. Once the advance payment was secured, Joel bid his victim goodbye and went his own merry way, discarding the disguise as soon as he was out of sight.

That mustache had been flashy but uncomfortable.

Joel lit up his pipe unhurriedly and blew out fragrant smoke as he watched the nearly full moon. He was running out of tobacco – Joel made a mental note to write to his brother to ask if he could still get any more from the fey world. It would truly be a loss if the gateway had fully closed; as much as Joel thrived in the world of humans, some things still couldn’t compare.

His eyes flickered, getting used to the darker street, and Joel idly wondered if any of the passers by could tell how his appearance was slipping – on some nights it was more tempting than usual to let the fur grow out, to tear his fangs into someone’s throat and achieve victory not with diplomacy, but with brute strength.

Of course, his best weapons were not claws or fangs, but his silver tongue and blue eyes – a dash of magic weaved through them both. But a fox would never stop being a predator, and a fey would never stop causing mischief – some instincts ran deeper than the persona he had carefully crafted for himself.

His last appointment for the night, he was fashionably late to. This one required a particular air of mystery to it, after all – and Joel was nothing if not meticulous.

“Lord Stapleton, thank you for your patience,” he bowed with the elegance of the high-bred aristocrat that he’d never been. “Apologies, I was held up on other business.”

“If what you’re saying is true, then it is more than worth a little inconvenience. Do you have the document with you?”

Joel did. He’d spent a whole week making a believable enough forgery, after all – there was no forgetting the most crucial item in this con. As Stapleton inspected it and tried to confirm its authenticity, Joel allowed himself to relax. This was the time to appear bored; slightly offended even. They were two gentlemen, surely they could believe each other’s word?

Out of the corner of his eye though, he still kept watching Stapleton, noting his reactions.

It went smoothly after that. This time, Joel’s eyes were pure honesty as he accepted the “old” scroll back and negotiated the price.

“You better not be fooling me, Lord Silverline,” Stapleton said suddenly as they were about to go their separate ways. “I’d be very upset if you were.”

Joel’s eyes widened in fake offense and worry, “Lord Stapleton, how could I!”

His gaze crossed with Stapleton’s heavy one, and for a moment he wondered if he’d missed some crucial detail to the con, but surely that was impossible. He’d been doing this for too long to make mistakes, his character was impeccable and he knew for sure the forgery had no flaws. Even when Stapleton arrived at the location and found nothing, he could feign innocence and tell Stapleton that century-old documents were hardly the most reliable. It wasn’t Joel’s – Lord Silverline’s – fault.

Despite all the self-reassurance, Joel left the alleyway slightly disturbed. There was no calling the deal back now, but he worried. For a moment Joel wondered if he could visit Mari so she could soothe his worries, but at this time of night, she was probably still entertaining clients.

Instead of going to the brothel to wait for her, Joel went home. She’d already done her part here, and had her hands full with their little son – he felt it would have been unfair to bother her with more probably groundless worry.

He thought he caught a glimpse of someone following him, and knew it was the right decision. Whether it was paranoia or real danger, Joel quickened his steps and slipped into the inconspicuous flat, knowing he’d be moving out the next morning once the streets were sufficiently busy.

He looked in the mirror, watching the bright blue reflected in the misty surface. Mari had often said that she loved his eyes, and he couldn’t help but wonder if she had seen them on his true form. Perhaps this was the time?

The thrill of potential danger spurred him on, and he truly thought about the idea he had only distantly entertained before.

Joel sat down at his desk and dipped the quill in the inkwell. There was only one person he’d trust to keep track of his most precious belongings and to keep an eye on Mari and Thomas if something went wrong – so he wrote to his brother, joking and reassuring him, and desperately trying not to let the nerves show.

Dante would know, of course. Dante was the only person Joel couldn’t lie to, another fox, another trickster. Dante would know and would tell Joel to stop being stupid, stop running cons and stop running from his family, and then Joel would have enough courage to tell Mari the truth, all of it, for the first time.

(And Dante knew, but the post office had never been very reliable. By the time Dante knew, Joel had been dead for nearly two weeks.)

—–

Ugghhh. I had such high hopes for this one, but it ended up being a mess. I realized way too late that it was more prelude to the angst than actual angst, then tried to make it currently angsty, and the whole thing just spiraled. But whatever, I might come back to it one day, for now it’s done.