A Siren's Hunt | Alastor Fanfiction

CH 44: Hellspawn

The night was filled with several laughs, senseless dancing, and clouds of gray smoke. Esme soon finds herself laid out across Angel's bed, her nightgown spread across the sheets like a puddle beneath her. She had fallen into a deep sleep, feeling content and serine. 

Her sleep transports her to a large master bedroom with the sun streaming in, with the chirps of birds, and the buzzing of bees. A movie almost, watching from the outside looking in, but a familiarity to it. 

Almost like a memory....

~ Flashback, Louisiana, 1931~

It's a peaceful summer's morning, the sun shining in their bedroom window and the warmth resting on Esme's skin. She begins to stir in bed, waking to the sounds of Geneviève crying in the next room. She whines and sits up, noting her hair tousled in knots from their activities the night before. She looks down at her nightgown and pulls it down to cover herself, turning to Alastor to gently nudge him, "Darling..."

He groans softly, his eyes fluttering open to look up at her leaning over him. He takes in her disheveled appearance and smirks to himself with the memories from the night before. He slowly sits up, rubs his eyes, and turns to her with a yawn, "Mmm, yes, dear? Is something wrong?"

"She's crying." Esme moves some of her curls to the back, fluffing them, "Could you see what's the problem?"

He sighs, rolling his eyes, "Do I have to? She's probably just being fussy, and fussy children are a pain..."

"Alastor..." She says sternly.

He sighs, hearing his name pour from her mouth in that tone, knowing she uses that whenever he's not going to get out of something, "Fine, I'll go check on the spawn..." He groans and gets out of bed, grumbling the entire way as he makes his way to the door.

Esme rolls her eyes and chuckles, "You love that spawn." She smirks.

He stops for a moment as his hand lays on the doorknob, turning to give her a playful and irritated glare in response, "Hush you, the last thing I need right now is you being cheeky with me."

He slowly makes his way out the door and over to Geneviève's nursery, groaning in aggravation as he stretches, frustrated at how he's being forced out of bed to deal with a crying child at 7 in the morning. He loves his daughter, very much in fact, but he's not exactly the most patient person alive - especially in the morning.

He slowly pushes the door open and walks in. Geneviève sits in her bed, rubbing tears from her eyes. Her cries get a bit louder as she hears him coming closer. He walks over to her, his expression a conflicting mix of irritation and patience as he looks down at her, "There you are, what's all the fuss about, hm? You're being so loud so early in the morning."

She motions for him to pick her up, nuzzling into his chest as soon as he does so. She leans back and points to the closet, "Daddy, monster!"

He groans and gently pulls her close to his chest, "Mmm, there's a monster in your closet? You want me to scare it away for you?" he smirks.

Geneviève shakes her head back and forth, "Nooo, it's scawy." She whines.

He listens to her, feeling a small pang of emotion in his chest. Usually, she didn't cry if there was not something truly upsetting her. He turned to look at the closet and raised an eyebrow, "Let's see if there is anything in here, shall we?" He turns the knob and pulls the door open, hearing a rustling sound and leaning down to investigate.

A small mouse runs out of the closet and across his feet.

He jumps on instinct, nearly dropping Geneviève, "SON OF A B-" He holds her close, taking a deep breath and composing himself.