Mortis, The Brat and The Bitch

It was bright out. Bright enough that Mortis had decided it might be worth bringing a sunhat or a cap, something he didn't normally wear. It just wasn't his style, but it was better than sunglasses. He'd never liked glasses, sun or corrective, and he really hated those novelty glasses and the weird sunglasses that were just thick plastic slats. He always wondered how anyone could see though those. It was also hot. Hot enough that he was sweating, but he was a little overdressed for the weather. Black shirt, black jeans, black jacket and black cap. The staple colours of a Necromancer. The jacket was a real bad idea for hot weather, but it concealed the weaponry he carried, and helped hide his pale skin from the sun. He burned so easily.

He was in America. He didn't remember which state, and he didn't care. They were exploring at their leisure, seeing what there was to see, why people always made such a big deal of the damn place. He and Jayden, that was. They were travelling together, taking a holiday of sorts. And tracking a woman by the name of Faeris Wile across the states, blades at the ready. But this particular day, they had been sidetracked.

They were at a zoo. Mortis hadn't been to a zoo any time he could remember. He'd been to an old freak show, but never a zoo. And aside from the cages and crowds and nasty smells, there was a whole world of difference. Mortis himself was stood staring at a particular cage, one that held monkeys of some variety. Capuchins. Jayden had steered him here, away from another path, quite deliberately, and had asked him to wait there while he got them both something to eat and something to drink. He didn't object. He knew what Jayden was avoiding, though Mortis was sane enough at least to not try and stab the zoo crocodiles to death. Besides, he was hungry and he was thirsty, so whatever his boyfriend brought back, he'd be happy to see.

He was hoping for ice cream and a cold drink.

He'd been staring at the Capuchin monkeys for a while. At least five minutes before he noticed someone else had joined him, and he didn't know how long they'd been there, but he didn't think it was long. He was good at noticing things quickly, so he doubted someone had been next to him for longer than a few seconds, especially if they hadn't had any training of any kind.

They were staring at him. He waited a moment, to see if they would stop, if the sensation of eyes would go away, then glanced at the person out of the corner of his eye.

A little boy. Blond. No older than four or five, staring at this strange man with his mouth open, like he'd never seen a pale man dressed all in black in the middle of a sweltering hot summer. They had Goths in the States, right? Surely this boy had seen some of those before, and Mortis didn't care if the boy thought he too was one. Maybe he even had an older sister who dyed her hair black and wore all black and looked like a long-lost member of the Addams Family. A few more long, dragging seconds of staring, and Mortis turned his head to look at the little boy properly. Raised an eyebrow. Raised his hat a little so the kid could see his face better. Waited for the kid to say or do something.

Finally, after a whole three minutes: "You're all sweaty. Like a fat man."
Weird. "It's hot out."
"Are you a tourist?"
"Pardon?" That was out of left field. The child flinched at Mortis' tone, but he had no intention of softening his voice. Bravely, the child continued to speak.
"My dad, he says that all tourists should be shot."
"Your dad sounds like a wise man." Mortis agreed, though he was more of a stabbing man. The child continued to stare at him. He sighed. "I'm in the States on business."
"What business?"
"None of your business."
"You sound like a tourist."
"D'you mean my accent? I sound foreign?"
"What accent? From where?"
"I'm Irish."
The child said nothing, tilted his head a fraction to one side.
"I'm from the country of Ireland?"
"The emerald city!"
"...Sure..." The child looked so proud of himself in that way Mortis felt all Americans did when they managed to sound smart yet stupid at the same time. Perhaps the child was a little younger than he'd first thought, but 'emerald isles' and 'emerald city'...that was a fair mistake for a young child to make, he figured. He was sick of conversing with the nasty and probably sticky thing. It had snot dribbling down its face now.

Blondie licked the snot off his face and Mortis resisted the urge to gag. It wasn't the snot itself that bothered him, of course. It was the child as a whole, in all honesty.

Mortis returned his attentions to the monkeys, hoping that if he ignored it long enough, the small, disgusting problem would walk away. A few seconds later, he felt a tug on his jacket.
"Mister?"
"Where are your parents?" He snapped, pushing the brat away. Not hard enough to knock him down, but hard enough for him to stumble back and look shocked before his face collapsed. His lips wobbled, his eyes filled with tears, his nose snotted at a faster rate and the rest of his face crumpled into an unattractive mess.
"I don't know!" He whined in that annoying childish way Mortis felt all young children did. "I'm lost!"
"You're not lost. Look, you're next to the monkeys." He pointed to the sign. "Capuchin monkeys, see? You know where you are."
"Help me find my mama!"
There it was. The ulterior motive. The thing the child had been planning from the moment he first approached the mysterious, black-clad stranger.
"You're not supposed to talk to strangers! What if I was a crazed serial killer hiding hundreds of knives between my clothes? What if that was the reason I was wearing the jacket?"
"I want my mama!"
"There's a lost and found somewhere here, isn't there? Where you'll find all the lost handbags and souvenirs and misplaced children nobody wants to kidnap."
"Where?" The brat was wailing now, tears everywhere, making a racket. Mortis saw the odd person pass and stare, maybe make a rude comment to the person next to them, but none of them came to claim the noisy beast or to help. Perhaps they assumed the brat was with Mortis.
"I don't know. Check the map."
"What map?"
"There's maps all over the place!"
"I don't read maps!"
"And I bet you don't read anything else, either." He grabbed the child by the scruff of the neck and dragged it over to the nearest sign post. It stated that down one path was the reptile house, another led to African Plains, and the way they'd just come from was monkeys. Not too far away, they found a map, and Mortis pointed, traced his finger down one of the many wiggly lines and stopped. "Information point. Go there."
"Come with!"
"Absolutely not!"
"But I might get kidnapped!"
"I don't care!"
Then the child just started screaming. Mortis spared it one look of pure disgust, then pulled the brim of his cap low again and walked back to his station by the monkeys.

The screaming followed him.

He wished he had earplugs. Or a music player. Or the conviction to chop his ears off. Or that he wasn't in such a well populated area so he could end the brat's life and be done with it. As it was, people were staring, the kid was tugging his jacket again and he was so close to blowing a gasket.
"Okay!" He snapped at last. The child shut up immediately. "I'll take you to the fecking lost and found, you little shit, but only if you let go of my clothes and shut the fuck up!"
The brat stared up at him, wide-eyed. He clearly hadn't expected him to shout. Or perhaps just not to swear.
"What's your name?"
"Geoffrey." The brat replied.
"Geoffrey. You will be quiet." The brat immediately shut up. Oh how Mortis loved the magic of names. The brat's given name would be enough to keep him quiet for now.

Next order of business, how to get the kid to the drop off without Jayden worrying? If his boyfriend returned to where he'd last seen him, and he wasn't there, he'd worry. He'd worry that, since Mortis is unhinged, he might try to stab someone or something. He could call or text him, but he'd never quite managed to get his head around the whole mobile phone thing. He'd always been too impatient for texting and always typed in the wrong number anyway. And what was on the odd occasion his phone was actually charged and in his pocket. He would have to write a note with a pen and paper and leave it behind.

He didn't have a pen and paper. Jayden was going to worry.

Mortis took the brat and got walking. He immediately regretted it. The child was quiet, as commanded, but it still bothered him that he was so close and so ugly. Mortis didn't like children. Mortis didn't like anyone, but he especially didn't like children. Not like his friends, who were all of the mindset that all children were so adorable. They all looked like under-ripe gremlins to him.

He managed to walk Geoffrey a fair while with no incident, to the point where he could see the information point in the distance. The brat hadn't even tried to wipe his snotty nose or sticky hands on any of Mortis' nice clothes.

That was when the bitch turned up.

A woman in sunglasses, with lots of clinking jewellery and a coffee cup in one hand. She looked suitably panicked for a woman who had lost her child, and he knew she was a woman who had lost her child because the moment she saw Mortis and Geoffrey, she shrieked the boy's name.
"Mama!" Geoffrey shrieked back, spell over him apparently broken. Mortis didn't care, as long as the brat was going to bother someone else now. He ran to his mother and the two embraced, and Mortis turned to leave, and then the Bitch turned her gaze on him.
"What the hell were you doing with my son?"
"Taking him to-"
"Why were you following him, Geoffrey? We've talked about stranger danger!"
Concerned parents. How nice.
"You monster, preying on a small, lost, helpless child!"
Did she mean Mortis? He looked over and raised an eyebrow. "I don't know what you-"
"I bet you're a total pervert! Look at you, lurking around by yourself, all covered up even in this heat! What are you trying to hide, huh?" She was standing now. Getting up in Mortis' personal space. She was taller than he was, and she smelled of some fancy perfume. Not unlike the one his sister used to wear.
"I sunb-"
"You're a creep! Hanging around a zoo, trying to creep on innocent children! We'll be seeing you outside elementary schools next!" People were staring again and Mortis was getting so, so sick of it. He was scowling now. "I'm calling the police! Someone call the police! This man was taking my son somewhere!"
Geoffrey wasn't saying anything. In fact, he was looking at Mortis with an expression of 'well you were the one taking me somewhere' on his face. Then he looked away, bored of the scene his mother was making.
"I was taking your son-"
"See? He admitted it!"
"-To the information kiosk-"
"You're a monster, I swear, this isn't going to be something I let lie! Oh, my poor, poor Geoffrey! I'm so sorry! I'll never let you out of my sight again!"
Yeah, keep an eye on him next time, he thought as he went to reach into his jacket, sick of this woman in his face, spitting on him every time she opened her mouth to spew more panicked bullshit.
"Oh god, what if he'd been a flasher? What if I hadn't found you in time? Oh god, oh god!"
Mortis went to draw a knife from his pocket when a hand closed around his upper arm. Strong. Dark. Utterly gorgeous. Or at least the face of the man who owned the hand was.
"Ma'am?" Asked a deep, rumbling bass of a voice. "What seems to be the problem here?"
"This man was trying to kidnap my son!"
Jayden Slander raised an eyebrow at Mortis. "Sir?" He asked, as though the two did not know one another.
"Taking him to the information kiosk. Brat wouldn't stop screaming for me to help him."
"Nonsense! My son is not a brat, he doesn't throw tantrums and he knows much better than to walk up to creepy strangers and-"
"Listen here, bitch-!" That was as far as Mortis got before Jayden slapped a hand over his mouth, released his arm and wrapped his own arm around Mortis' waist. He began to drag the Necromancer away from the scene.
"Don't worry, ma'am, I'll take care of it!" He promised, already afraid Mortis was on the verge of committing a very public murder. The Necromancer struggled and kicked all the way back to the monkeys, at which point Jayden finally released him and got a soft punch on the arm for his troubles.
"What a bitch." The Irishman muttered.
"I know."
He'd not expected Jayden to take his side, but he certainly appreciated it. He rested his head on his boyfriend's broad, muscular shoulder and accepted the hotdog and iced tea offered to him.
"Should we get back after Wile after this?"
"I have one more stop to make first, Jay."

That evening, when Jayden went back to his hotel, deciding he'd rather not know what his boyfriend was planning, Mortis managed to track the bitch and her son, followed them to their home address and slaughtered the woman in her own home. Just what she deserved, he figured.

((Disclaimer: The Skulduggery Pleasant universe does not belong to me. Neither does Faeris Wile. I was going to use a different enemy of Mort's for that brief mention, but was at college when I wrote that bit, slacking off work, so I couldn't go and find the last name of the guy. Faeris Wile was the only listed and non-canon present day character among Mortis' enemies, and even then, that's only because she was once wearing crocodile skin or something. He could have also been tracking Dexter Vex. They both hate Dexter Vex. Maybe he was tracking both. Who knows?))
((Epilogue: Mortis got sunburned.))