We'll Meet Again

Chapter Sixteen: Mad About The Boy

As Alastor approached the house he noticed a light still shining within. Either Vox was still awake or fell asleep with a light on. He took his shoes and coat off outside as was his habit. He knocked the shoes together to remove any leftover dirt or mud and closely inspected his hands and shirt cuffs. All seemed free of anything obvious or incriminating. He entered the house, placing his shoes in their spot and the coat in his trunk to be cleaned. He paused when he noted the source of the light. He had never forbidden Vox from being in his study, in point of fact he had encouraged him to avail himself of the book lining his shelves. He wasn't sure why the light shining from the slightly ajar door made the hair on his neck stand on end, but it did. There was a feeling in the pit of his stomach that the evening could go badly amiss. He moved cautiously to the door and pushed it open, it creaked softly. Vox was staring at the door as Alastor walked through it. Alastor froze as he noted the file, open in Vox's hands, and the books placed on the desk before him. Vox looked like a frightened animal. A memory came to Alastor at that moment. A nightmare from months ago. The old boat dock on the bayou, Vox in the cart with a bag on his head. He shook his head expelling the thought. He sighed heavily and met Vox's eyes, waiting for him to speak first. It felt like an eternity before he spoke, and when he did it came out so quiet Alastor had to strain to hear him.

"What is this Alastor?"

He considered for a moment before speaking. The books were there, but had he read them?

"Which one are we talking about exactly?"

A manic little chuckle escaped Vox.

"All of them Alastor! What is this?"

Alastor winced a little. He was not sure he had ever heard Vox raise his voice.

"Alright Vox, we can talk about whatever you want, but you are going to have to be a little more specific with your questions because the things on the desk and the thing in your hands are unrelated."

Vox closed the file and laid it on the desk. He was feeling so many things all at once.

"Okay...okay so books first. What are these articles Alastor? Did you kill these people?"

He hated the look on Vox's face. It was hard to pin down exactly what it represented. Like a tearful mix of hurt and afraid. The look of fear on someone's face was normally something Alastor enjoyed, but not on Vox.

"I...yes Vox, I did."

Vox expected to feel something at the admission but really, he already knew the answer.

"Why, Alastor why would you do that? How could you do that?"

Alastor felt a cold numbness fall over him like a veil. Dozens of ways out of this situation ran through his mind. He dismissed them as they popped up. This was a worst-case scenario, and he hated everything about this situation, but he wasn't willing to hurt Vox to save himself. He had decided when he started, that keeping the secret wasn't worth hurting someone who didn't deserve it. So, he bore up under Vox's gaze and prepared to tell him whatever he wanted to know, no matter what it cost him.

"They were bad people Vox. Awful, hateful people who meant to do people harm or convince others to do harm."

Vox shook his head, seemingly incredulous.

"How is that your choice to make? Why are you the judge, jury, and executioner?"

Alastor chuckled and nodded slightly.

"If not me, then who? The people here do not see these things as crimes. Some of the people in that book were actively covering crimes up. No one cares about people like me being hurt, or people like us for that matter. No one that matters enough to stop it anyway."