Sable Skwigelf, nee. Harris' Journal

Demon battle fallout
After the battle, after the wounded have been taken from the carnage and the dead are counted, after the one red-haired son of Mordhaus is counted among them, after calls are made and the news trickles quickly through the ranks of those who need to know, after people can be found again, she goes to her father.

Miniver had left the castle almost as soon as he heard of Teja's death. He'd been tempted to go when the battle began, but he'd stayed for Pickles -- stayed WITH Pickles, because if either of them were going to die by the hands of demons, they'd do it together. But after it's over, after he learns what has happened, gripped by a thin haze of grief, he leaves.

The night takes him to the Thames, past window after window of liquor stores, and even finally inside one. With trembling hands he buys a bottle, with staggering feet he leaves, and for two hours or more he walks along the banks of the river engaged in his own private battle. Finally, though, finally, the bottle leaves his hand unopened and smashes against a gutter, and he finds his way to his brother's home.

There, Sable finds him.

Teague and Bren and Gaz and anyone else at home that night let them be. Sable all but drags her father, coldly, outside to the back yard. She places him just out of the direct beam of the porch lights, hustling him by his shoulders and taking a step back, her eyes narrowed, her lips twisted almost into a sneer.

"You did this," she says quietly, word-by-word as her voice tries to sync with all she feels and provide adequate expression. "You and your damn need to just... push and prod at everything..."

Miniver stands where she puts him, shoulders hunched, head bowed, he's not about to argue. It's what Teja told him -- he tried to speak to a demon, and cost the band some huge sum of money, and cost Teja and so many others their lives.

Sable is not satisfied with his silence, and not in a mood to be forgiving. "Do you understand this at all? Have you ever understood this? Jesus Christ, Miniver--" she uses his name, not calling him father or dad, which had taken her so long to start doing in the first place, "--Jesus Christ, how long have you lived here? How can you not know by now just to leave things alone? God! You know, I knew... I knew when I met you that you weren't so smart, but this is... Well, hell, no wonder my mother picked you to screw and toss away when she had what she wanted in her womb."

Miniver grits his teeth and shoves his hands into his coat pockets balled into fists -- not in anger, just in pain. "Sable..."

She waves her hand decisively. "No. No. What do you think you can say to make this better? What do you honestly think you can make up that will help you hobble out of this? No, Miniver. Not tonight. This is too fucking much. You... you listen to me, you... ignorant... irresponsible... bully. You... you screw with people all over the place and no one will ever call you on anything in a way that'll get through your thick skull. Well listen up, Miniver. You hurt people. You're too damn dense to get that what you do hurts people. You've made Cass and Soren hurt themselves before, and now look around... just look, Miniver. You can't just leave anything alone, can you? You have to rub it in and goad people on and now... now not only are all those roadies dead, Teja is, too. Do you hear me?"

"Sable, please..."

"No!" She steps towards him, the anger in her eyes almost a visible flame. Miniver retreats from her, silenced as she continues to speak. "You just had to screw with something that was none of your damn business. You hurt all those roadies, you killed Teja, and Miniver... that hurts me. Get it? Why don't you just stab me in the gut? And I'm not the only one. Every time you do that shit, you might as well just take up a knife and start stabbing people, because you don't just hurt the people you manipulate with your psychological bullying. You hurt the people who love them. Teja was my friend, Miniver. He... he's really about the best friend I've ever had. He had a fiancee and parents and people who loved him like parents and you... you just... you can just brush all that away like it doesn't matter, all because you want to play with Satan. Well, here's your reward, Miniver. Here's what you get for your harmless helpful attempts at conversation and objective commentary. You get to be just like your mother."

She practically spits the last few words, leaning in close to him, the slight advantage in height she has over him making her seem ten feet tall when combined with her vehemence and venom. Half-veiled behind his hair, Miniver is too stunned by his own grief and her words to say anything. The silence continues for several long seconds before she turns away from him and starts back towards the house.

"Pathetic," she spits. "Just a drunken, pathetic addict without three brain cells to rub together. Figures that's all you'd turn out to be. I'm going back to my shop. Don't bother trying to show up until you've got something more eloquent to say."

And she's gone, into the light of the house and soon he can hear her slam the front door as she leaves.

He's glad no one is outside to see him as he stumbles to the bushes to empty his stomach while visions of the battle wash over him with the echoes of his daughter's words. He stays crouched there until his retching turns to sobs and he clambers a few feet away to collapse on the back porch steps, hugging his knees and wondering in fragmented, shattered thoughts whether he'll be able to walk as far as the nearest liquor store before it closes...