'Twas the night of the dinner and a week before Christmas, when all through the house a lot of creatures were stirring, some with the thought of finishing unfinished business.
The stockings were hung by Annalize and her mother, helped, of course, by the wind god Egoi without so much a bother. Peachy had hoped that St. Nicholas would soon be there early, while Irwin had no heart to tell her that Santa Claus was currently killing children, as he had done yearly.
The child was now nestled and all snug in her bed, while a visitor of her family arrived early and said; "Ho, ho, holy shit, is that a fucking genie?"
"What?" Irwin turned around to see Egoi delft hiding between the crevasse of a painting. "Oh, that. Yeah, that's Egoi, a simulacrum of the wind god from a minor pantheon. Good of you to come, Asa. Though you're a bit early."
Asa wore a striped long-sleeve shirt over a denim jacket with "I Voted" button on the right collar, an ice-cold bottle of wine, sweating through his calloused palms in his hand.
"I've been dining in high-society long enough to know that arriving early really riles the hosts up. Makes them feel special," Asa lied through his teeth. "Here… Fresh from our cellar, I thought your father would like it."
Archibald appeared behind Irwin, as if summoned by the utterance of his title. The patriarch grabbed a hold of the wine and inspected it with much scrutiny.
"Well, I'll be damned. 1901, Lombardy. I remember a story told by my first officer about the siege of Lombardy… We were the first one on the beachhead, trying to wait for logistics to finish up cleaning. Brings back memories, doesn't it? "Archibald whistled lovingly, stroking the glass with fervor. "A magnificent gift, my boy. Truly!"
"Why don't you make love to the wine in the kitchen, Archie?" Irwin nudged Archibald away from the doorway as he let Asa inside. "Come. You hungry? We have some snacks, mostly baby carrots and celery. Ella's been trying to make me eat healthy."
"Uh, nope." Asa tapped Irwin on the shoulder as he sat down in the parlor room. "Listen, I saw the table and the potions and all of that. But, uh, I hear Ellen got herself a new toy? What's, uh, what's that about?"
Irwin chuckled, taking the seat adjacent to Asa. "I don't know much about you, Asa, except that you tell tall tales and a ladies' man like me…"
"It's up to you to believe my hunting stories, up to me how to spend my night." Asa leaned back on the couch, resting his hand along the length of the couch, yet there's a tightness in his arm.
"Right. Ellen's "toy" can kill demons, Asa. I'm sure Ellen told you about that, but I doubt you believe her, even if you go way back."
Asa shrugged his shoulders, "Your potions and that Explosion Tag thing, that takes her words into fucking gospel."
He leaned back in and steepled his fingers as he locked eyes with Irwin, "I"m–"
"A contract to work under me, and no, it's not enslavement… Merely protecting my assets from harm." Irwin magically produced a gilded scroll and threw it at Asa. "Keep it for now, we can discuss the details later. Only, know that you can do far more good than you will ever do in your limited lifespan. So much good that your children can live a long good life."
Irwin heard the door ring and stood up from his seat, excusing himself away from Asa's befuddlement.
If he was guessing right, Asa was currently being plagued by the demon Jael, his arch-nemesis and eventual killer. Though that would be far into the future, a decade at most, solving Asa's problem now would certainly be a step in the right direction for the Protectorate and have two white witches owe him a favor.
Archibald was at the door when he arrived at the main hall, a smile was on his face as he talked to a figure that caught Irwin off-guard.
"Rufus Turner!" Irwin didn't realize that he had said it aloud, only when the man, himself, turned towards him with a mounting frustration.
"Watch how you say my name, kid," Rufus warned as he walked past Archibald and stepped up to Irwin. "Acting like I owe you money! Do I owe you money, son?"
"No, sir!" Irwin's eyes went wide in fear and surprise.
"Then who the hell are you to shout my goddamn name?" Rufus grumbled under his breath after berating Irwin, turning towards Archibald with a scornful look. "This your son, Greythorne? The damn punk who can't keep his dick inside his pants?"
Archibald nodded furiously. "Indeed, he is. He goes by Irwin now, Turner, and he is a damn fine hunter."
"We'll see about that." Pursing his lips, Rufus regarded Irwin with a critical gaze. "To think that I came out of retirement for this."
"Not like you're fully retired, right?" Irwin tried to wet his lips, only to be glared down by Rufus.
"What you say, boy?"
"Nothing, sir. Would you like a drink, perhaps? We have wine–"
"Nonsense, Irwin." Archibald waved Irwin off as he gladhanded Rufus towards the kitchen. "I recently came into a bottle of Johnny Walker when I traveled to India. The thing is… it's quite likely made by Jonny Walker himself."
"It's a brand, Grey. Not a person." Rufus remarked as he shook of the snow on his coat.
"Well, this Sikh cabby told me that there was, indeed, a Johnny Walker in real life…"
Before Irwin could join their conversation or maybe finish Asa's, the doorbell rang once more. Surely that would be one of his guests, as Garth or Scott or Ansem would just have entered through the door.
He had placed the maternal twins on guard duty, partly to help acclimate their observational ability in real life and to reduce the intensity of Andy's hatred of his brother. He could have picked a better and more appropriate job for them to do, but he couldn't bother.
Edward Pengliotti was at the door when he opened it, a purple bruise on his right cheek and a blackened skin on his left eye. It was apparent, by his dour expression, that Edward made through with their deal.
If Edward would call it that, which he wouldn't; that wasn't Irwin's problem, however.
What was his problem was Edward's massive luggage bag being lugged behind by Ansem, and the fact that Andy was trying to restart a rusty muscle car with obscene decals in its hood.
"Jesus. That's your car?" Irwin asked.
Edward swiped his hair, embarrassment clear in his face. "Yeah."
"You really didn't take any bribe, huh?" Irwin clicked his tongue, quite impressed. "Come on in. You won't be staying here for long, so don't get comfortable."
"What do you mean?" Edward asked.
Irwin snapped his fingers to hurry along Ansem as he answered, "You're gonna be on the road for most of the time. I don't trust you to lug around the mystical items, so you'll start with bundles of cash and magik paraphernalia. Though we'd set you up with another set of fake ID before some country cop seizes the money."
"Look here, fella," Edward grabbed Irwin by the shoulder to stop him in his tracks, only to be pushed into the wall by the latter. "Wait. Look, this won't work if you just tell me what to do, alright? There's gotta be trust–"
Irwin snickered, "Trust? I'll give you trust once you stopped being a fucking idiot. Seattle called us this morning, asshole."
Edward lost all the color in his face as he stammered back a reply, "H-hey, man. I wasn't–I'm just covering for my ass, alright? I don't want them to hit me back for betraying them. I just–Please, Irwin."
"No one is going to "hit you back" if you had just told them that you're working for us now, idiot." Irwin smacked Edward's forehead with such speed that it left the man wondering why his forehead was aching. "They know you're with me now and all the favors you owe are now mine."
"Right. Because…"
Irwin sighed, "Because I have a fucking future senator in my pocket, because I have a federal judge on speed dial, because I can kill them with a fucking lightning coming out of their wive's ass. There's more to the world of the underworld than you know, fuckface. So much more and so much weirder. So the next time you want to run a deal behind my back, don't leave any loose ends."
Irwin let the hunter go and dusted his shoulders. "We'll talk about this later. In the meantime, enjoy the cocktail in the dining room."