Chapter Text
Mizu settled into Abijah's old London townhouse much faster than he thought she would. He couldn't imagine why - the smell of dust and decay had as good as ruined any relief he might've felt at being home. He supposed a twenty year absence could deaden anything.
He swore he'd move out of this miserable graveyard of a building, if he survived her. The stale air was choking him, heavy with the reminder that he'd returned to his hometown a failure.
The first few days, he watched her flit in and out of the vast, dusty rooms like a nervous ghost, exploring every nook and cranny as if she was expecting something to lunge at her from the shadows. She never left the house without him, making up some excuse about not trusting him enough to leave him alone.
Abijah chuckled at that, knowing full well that in this strange, new place, she wouldn't know what to do without him.
"So, where are we going, exactly?" he asked, voice tinged with amusement as he stared down at the little omega guiding him through the street, God-knows-to-where, hand wrapped around his arm. Even dressed in the Western clothes Abijah had oh so generously provided her, far more masculine than most omegas wore, he thought she looked like nothing more than a proper little lady holding onto her man as they walked down a dark street.
No one they passed spared them a second glance. No one knew the knives they loved to hold to each other's throats.
Mizu shot him a glare, and he had to bite back a laugh. "You have no idea, do you?" he said. "Feels like we've been walkin' in circles this past hour, if you ask me."
"I've been scouting", Mizu argued.
"Ahhhh, right, gettin' a lay of the land and all that." Whatever good it did them - the night was so foggy he could hardly see down the end of the next lane, lanterns glowing like hazy will-o-the-wisps in the darkness. He gave a polite nod to a couple passing them in the streets as Mizu lowered her head - more out of habit than anything else, he suspected. "So I'll outlive my usefulness, and you can leave me to rot back at the old house."
"It would give my ears some time to recover from your prattle", she said without missing a beat.
He scoffed, choosing not to think too deeply about the flash of something that passed through his chest. "You really should gag me, if you hate the sound of my voice so much."
"Believe me", Mizu drawled, "the thought has crossed my mind."
Filing that one away for later. "Bet that'd be paradise to you. To shut up the only man in the city who knows enough Japanese to hold a conversation with you. To give you directions - speakin' of which, love, you'll end up in the Thames if you keep 'scouting' that way...!"
He veered off suddenly to the right, and Mizu let out an outraged hiss as she was pulled along, still hanging on tight to his arm. He was fairly sure the Thames was still a good ways away. It didn't matter to him - she was far too fun to taunt, even if it meant she dug her heels in, stopping them both in their tracks.
"What is wrong with you?" she snapped.
Abijah scoffed, playing up his offense. "I'm trying to help! You were the one who wanted to bring me, after all."
Her eyes narrowed as she glared up at him. "To guide me, not to hinder and distract me at every turn."
"Really, my dear", Abijah said, "at this point, what did you expect from me?"
Mizu growled under her breath and tried to pull him along - Abijah didn't budge. "I could go back to the townhouse, y'know, if my presence is such a bother to you", he pointed out.
"So you can run the moment I turn my back on you?"
"I haven't run yet, Little Miss. I'm not sure how to convince you that I'm not plannin' to."
Her pretty blue eyes flicked back and forth as she calculated - he could practically see the thoughts running through her mind, weighing the risks. Finally, she looked up, eyes narrowed. "If I come back to your house to find it empty, I will hunt you down. You know I can, and you know I would, and I will make you wish you had stayed put for a clean kill."
She would regret it the moment she got lost. "Sounds like a plan."
With that, he yanked his arm from her grip and turned to head back, muttering in Gaeilge under his breath - because Mizu had heard him speak enough English by now that he was fairly sure she'd understand what he meant by "stupid whore".
"Having trouble there, sir?"
"Hmm?"
A voice speaking English cut through his thoughts, and he looked up to see he'd just walked past a group of three men, a little younger than him, loitering by the side of the road, passing a bottle of something amber and strong-looking between them.
"I didn't catch a word of what you were saying, but you sounded angry", the man who had spoken clarified.
Abijah sighed, trying to shove down the flash of shame at being caught speaking his own mother tongue. "Ah, my omega's bein' a bitch. I'm sure you know how it is", he said, hedging his bets on that these strangers were fellow alphas, even if he couldn't make out much of their scents under the reek of tobacco and alcohol.
Fortunately, he got a chorus of nods and hums and even some sympathetic laughter in response, that told him that, oh, did they ever.
"Tried to send me back home! And I thought we were having such a nice night out." He scoffed, but he was already feeling a little less annoyed. He'd spent many evenings in the company of drunken strangers, making friendships with people he would never see again once the sun rose and their one-night camaraderie had been washed away by enough alcohol to dull their memories. He hadn't been afforded that chance in over twenty years, and the loneliness of that realization hit him all at once. "Not sure what makes her think she'd be safe without me, a lone omega wanderin' the streets at this hour..."
"Go back to her", one of them said, nodding the way Abijah had come. "You're a big fella. I'm sure you could pick her up with one arm, carry her right back home with you."
"Oh, I would, but I'm not sure she wouldn't rip my head off if I tried. What are you havin'?" he asked, nodding at the bottle in the strangers' hand.
"Whiskey!" He raised the bottle. "Only good thing your people's done for us."
And all of a sudden, he was enjoying this little party far less.
Keeping his smile carefully affixed to his face, Abijah reached out, gesturing for him to hand it over. "Let me share in the spoils, then."
The man shrugged and handed him the bottle. He took a swig, pleased to find his guess had been right - it tasted dangerously strong, burning pleasantly as it settled into his gut.
"Not sure why I haven't put her in her place yet", he confessed, passing the bottle to another of the strangers when he gestured for it.
"You ought to." He took a swig. "Keep her locked up for a bit, or renew your mating bond. That usually does the trick with mine."
"Maybe", Abijah said, staring blankly ahead of him as he ran his tongue over his teeth.
He wondered if her blood would taste as sweet as her scent. He wondered if she would fight him, about the sort of noises she would make with his fangs buried deep in her flesh, or if she'd be shocked into silence, still as a corpse. He wondered if he'd be able to force himself to let go.
He was starting to realize he was running out of patience, waiting for her.
"Ah, it doesn't matter." He gestured for the bottle, took another swig, passed it on. "She'll come crawling back to me, disheveled and bloody if need be. Y'see, she's got nowhere else to go. She needs me. Deep down she knows that... she just needs to swallow that stubborn pride of hers."
One of the strangers walked over, leaning against the wall next to Abijah. "Tell us more about this omega. She sounds like an interesting sort."
"Oh, 'interesting' doesn't even begin to cover it. Brought her home from a trip abroad, all the way from the Far East. She's a half-breed - face like any other Japanese beauty you might find on those shores, but with the prettiest blue eyes you ever did see." He chuckled, shaking his head. "She's gotten it into her head that she's supposed to be a beta. Even dresses the part, tries to deepen her voice, the works."
"She sounds like a challenge."
Oh, that, she certainly was. Just thinking about it, the way she so coldly kept rejecting him, even when he could tell from her scent and her lingering eyes that she wanted him, made him itch with frustration, just below his skin.
But oh, was she entertaining.
"Good thing I like it that way", he said. "Well, I should start gettin' myself back home - one for the road?"
"You keep it." The man who'd had the bottle last pressed it into Abijah's hand - it wasn't even half full, but he still let out a surprised hum at the unexpected generosity. They passed a look between the three of them, before shooting Abijah a smile, and something in the look on his face registered as faintly wrong. "Sounds like you need it more than us. Good luck with your mate."
"Aye, cheers..." He raised the bottle in a salute, taking another swig as he started his walk back to the dusty, empty old house, as the little pack of strangers started walking back the way he'd came.
Abijah managed to get to the end of the street before he realized he might've just made a mistake.
He turned, half-running back to where he'd come from, stopping in his tracks in the alley where he'd last seen Mizu.
Empty.
A yowl split the air - a feral molly's screech, filled with fear and rage, and Abijah found himself running towards it before he could even really process the impulse.
He turned a corner, and all at once, he understood just what it was that his instinct had picked up on.
She fought well. One of the strangers, these English bastards, spat out a mouthful of blood, touching his fingers to a mouth that was now down a tooth - another seemed to walk with a limp already, staggering back from the ugly scene in front of him.
It was only luck that let the third pin Mizu to the wall. She fought, squirming in his grip, teeth bared, only to gasp in pain and force herself not to crumble when the man twisted her arms behind her back, pushing her hard against the stone bricks, his face far too close to her neck, mouth open, his breath fogging against her skin.
Abijah saw red.
He knew she could've fought her way out, but he found himself rushing forward, a growl deep in his chest, before he could stop himself or even really think about what was happening.
He wrapped his hands around the jaw of the man who had her pinned, relishing in the heartbeat's horror that blossomed in his eyes, before he tightened his grip and twisted.
It had been far too long since Abijah had last snapped a man's neck, but the motion was ingrained in him, as familiar as a lover. The thick bone snapped cleanly with a satisfying crack, its echoes swallowed up by the fog.
He felt that familiar, warm satisfaction of a kill wash over him as he let the twitching body drop to the cobblestones, whirling around to see if any of the others wanted a turn.
None of them did - eyes bright with fear, they both turned and vanished into the mist.
Pity.
Mizu was still gasping for breath, hunched over, every muscle tense, eyes wide as if she expected Abijah to go after her next. Like a deer staring down the barrel of a rifle. Beautiful.
"You shouldn't have done that." Her eyes flicked down to the corpse on the ground, then back at Abijah. Her voice was rough with anger. "The sheriff will be looking for you."
Abijah scoffed. "Let him."
"You are not an inconspicuous man", Mizu reminded him.
"And yet, I have money and contacts. Justice is a cheap thing to buy, sweetheart - I'm sure I'll make do."
"Do not call me that."
Abijah smiled. He watched Mizu's shoulders tense, curling around herself as she backed away from him, ready to strike if he moved closer. He liked her so much better when she didn't pretend not to be scared of him. "Ready to head back home?"
* * *
Abijah played the role of the gentleman, holding the door open for his little lady, only for her to slip under his arm and shove the door closed behind him, locking it with a decisive click.
"You sent them my way, didn't you?"
Abijah crossed his arms over his chest, staring down at the omega that glared at him with such rage in her eyes. "Sent who your way, exactly?"
"Don't play coy."
He sighed, walking past Mizu - he heard her footsteps follow behind. He'd lost his whiskey bottle somewhere in the tumult, but it didn't matter. He still had a few more stored away.
"I didn't send them your way", he said, quite honestly, as he stood in the deserted kitchen, fiddling with the cork of a half-full bottle, finally pulling it out and taking a swig. "Talked to them, though, for a couple of minutes. Told them I was havin' trouble with this sweet omega, who might've roughly matched your description, and who loved to pretend not to be an omega at all...!"
Mizu growled under her breath, following behind Abijah as he walked back out into the living room. "You shouldn't have told them what I was."
"I'm not going to play along with your little delusion", Abijah said, taking a seat in the faded fabric of his couch. "You know that, don't you?"
"Then it's on your head if someone assaults me, or worse", Mizu snarled. "This is a shield. It doesn't matter whatever other horrible things you choose to do, you do not get to take that away from me."
"Careful, Little Miss. The wrong man might take that as an invitation."
Her eyes widened, then narrowed, sharpening as she pulled a dagger from her belt. The one she stole from him, he had the chance to think, before he found the tip of the knife pressed against his windpipe.
Abijah tipped his head back, almost chasing the delectable sting as it ran up his throat, settling just under his jaw. He leaned back, and Mizu had to put one knee up in his lap to follow along with his motion - he felt his cock twitch in interest at just how close she was.
"You had better learn how to keep your mouth closed", Mizu hissed - then he watched as some of the anger drained from her pretty face, replaced by confusion, eyebrows pinched together. "Why are you looking at me like that?"
"Like what?" Abijah breathed.
Mizu let out a disgusted noise as she pulled the knife away from his throat, tauntingly slow, as if to check that he'd behave himself. She rose up to her full height, a baleful glow in her eyes as she stared down at him.
"You're loathsome."
"And yet, here you are."
She barely managed to smother a growl in the back of her throat before she turned around and left the room, dagger still in hand, heading towards the stairs to the second floor.
She was far too sweet, thinking she could run from him.
* * *
As soon as Mizu had locked the door to their borrowed bedroom - who would have thought that the doors would lock? - they let themself fall back into the bed.
Mizu hated this. They felt wrong, somewhere deep beneath their skin. They tried to remind themself that this situation was temporary, that they would return to Japan with a blood-stained blade and Abijah Fowler dead and buried, as they nuzzled into their blankets, trying to comfort themself with their own scent.
For some reason, it didn't seem to work.
Their bed seemed far too big and far too empty, and nowhere near as comforting as they had hoped. They didn't know why they had even tried to find comfort there in the first place, being so used to sleeping out in the cold. Their own scent felt hollow.
Mizu all but wanted to cry out of frustration, digging their claws into one of the pillows. They were being ridiculous, but that seething feeling didn't stop.
They wished Abijah was here.
No. No, that was ridiculous. The thought made Mizu feel sick, the idea that some base, instinctual part of themself might take comfort in Fowler. Might think of him as pack.
The worst part was, Mizu still had no way of knowing if Fowler was their father. They had heard of people recognizing their relatives by smell, but how could they? Unless Fowler was lying to them about the woman they'd once considered their mother, they had never known a person who shared their blood.
All they knew was that Fowler smelled of metal and opium and the ashes of an old wooden shack that had burned down years ago, and that some desperate, self-destructive part of them had decided he felt like home.
And they were still planning to kill him. Oh, the irony.
* * *
Mizu felt themself drift downstairs. Not for any reason. Not to see him, not specifically.
Maybe they wanted something to eat. Maybe the deadened, musty smell, the empty silence of the halls, was driving them mad. Maybe they just wanted to hear another person's voice.
They heard Fowler before they saw him. He was pacing through the halls like a caged animal, and Mizu wondered what was keeping him from going outside instead.
Not that they minded. They preferred to have him close enough to keep an eye on.
He was in the room where Mizu had left him. They took a careful step inside, and Fowler went still, his eyes falling on them.
"Thought you'd be asleep by now", he said. "It's late."
"I could say the same to you. What are you doing?"
"I'm tryin' to figure that out, myself."
The bottle stood on the table, considerably emptier than when Mizu had first stormed off. They could smell the whiskey on his breath, see it in his eyes, and a wave of anger welled up inside them.
What right did he think he had, to need to drown his sorrows? It was his fault this whole evening had gone so wrong. Mizu could've handled themself just fine. They didn't need Fowler's misguided attempt to try and protect them. They certainly didn't need the argument that came after.
Gods, they wished they didn't need him.
"Bidin' my time, I think ", Fowler said, his voice distant, as if he was thinking out loud. "Waiting. Thinking."
"Waiting for what?" Mizu asked.
They felt their stomach twist. Even if he wasn't sober, even with how softly he spoke, they could tell there was an edge to Fowler right now, a strange sharpness that made Mizu's skin crawl, and that almost made them freeze up when his eyes fell on them, bright as green fire in the low light.
"You, I think. I had a feeling you'd come lookin' for me."
He took a step towards them, and Mizu backed away, her shoulders set, every muscle tense, ready to run. His mouth twisted into a smirk, even as he stopped before them.
"Do you even understand what humiliation it is, to know you can't even bring your own omega to heel? I know I've fallen far, but this is ridiculous...!"
Mizu felt their hackles rise as they took a slow step back, away from him. "I am not your omega-"
"Oh no, I think we've come far for that. You think I don't see how you look at me when you think I'm not watching? Or how you keep seekin' me out, on nights just like this. You didn't have to come down and be in the same room as the man you claim to loathe, and yet, here you are. No, my dear. I think you want me. The only thing that's missing is a bite mark, right there, on your pretty throat, to seal the deal."
He raised a hand, reaching out for Mizu, slow and cautious, putting on a mocking display of actually caring if he frightened them off - they growled and slapped it away. "Don't."
The mask shattered. He bared his teeth, and when he reached for Mizu, there was no gentleness, feigned or otherwise, just his hand lashing out and wrapping around their throat in a vise-grip, shoving them up against the wall. For a horrible, eternal second, Mizu couldn't breathe.
"Then why did you come here?" Fowler hissed.
His grip eased, enough for Mizu to take a gasping breath, but answering him was the furthest thing on their mind. They clawed at the hand gripping their throat, only for Fowler to sigh and wrap both their wrists in another tight grip, tucked firmly between them as he stepped closer, filling up what little space still existed between them.
Gods, he was warm. Mizu knew that, of course, from casual touches, attempts at restraint, all the fights they'd gone through - the sear of his proximity from when he'd wrapped the fabric of Mizu's yukata around his fist, the first time they had looked into his eyes - but knowing was different from feeling him pressed against them, warm and overwhelming, filling up their every sense, his sweet, repulsive scent saturating the air, as they felt their instinct to run fight back against their instinct to just give in.
"By all rights, I should hate you", Fowler said, his voice far too calm for a man whose hands were wrapped around another's throat. "By all rights, I shouldn't want you back. I mean, who in their right mind would? I'd be laughingstock if people knew I chased after a girl who doesn't even get her heats right. Maybe it's just the fact that you're the only omega that's touched me in months, but my dear, I'm a greedy man, always have been, and I can't stand the fact that you're not mine."
Mizu expected his grip to tighten, they expected to be thrown to the floor, they expected his teeth in their throat to mark them as prey.
Instead, he closed his eyes and pressed his forehead against theirs, and it felt like a deeper violation than any violence he could have inflicted on them.
His eyes opened slowly, fixed on theirs, bright and green as a viper's, and Mizu suddenly couldn't remember the last time they'd been so afraid.
They also realized they weren't fighting back.
"Let go of me."
Their voice came out small, despite the fact that Fowler's grip, really, wasn't that tight.
"Why?"
Because I could kill you. Because I know exactly what I'd need to do to get out of this grip and you're not as strong as you once were, and you don't want to find out all the ways I want to hurt you right now. Because if you don't give me the respect I'm due, I'll never touch you again. Because I don't want to want you, either.
Mizu swallowed. A smile tugged at the corners of Fowler's mouth.
"Thought as much", he murmured. "It's late, Little Miss. Don't think we're done talkin' about this."
Mizu flinched when his lips brushed against theirs, but there was nowhere to back away to when his mouth pressed against theirs in a mockery of a kiss, firm and possessive and reeking of whiskey.
His grip softened as he pulled back, standing back up to his full height, staring down at Mizu with an expression they couldn't begin to untangle - almost soft, and far too hungry. "Run along to bed, now."
It took a moment before Mizu could force their limbs to cooperate. Something had gotten stuck. Their mind was reeling, filled with fear, but for a long, terrible moment, they couldn't bring themself to move.
Some ugly, needy, instinctual part of their brain that Mizu had tried to kill for as long as they'd been alive wasn't panicking over the fact that Fowler had kissed them, but the fact that he'd let them go.
They swore Fowler could see it in their eyes when they finally gathered themself enough to shove him away - he staggered back, unsteady from the alcohol, but his eyes never left theirs, and the corners of his mouth tugged into a smile, so impossibly sure of himself.
"You can't think I will not make you pay for this", Mizu snarled.
Fowler shrugged. The bastard was grinning, and Mizu's eyes lingered a little too long on the sharp teeth that showed from behind his lips. They wanted so badly to pull them out. "What's it matter to me? I'm a dead man already, so you keep tellin' me. Might as well have some fun while I still draw breath...!"
Mizu had to kill him. They had to - not after he'd outlived his use, but now. If that meant they would be alone and adrift in a foreign country, so be it. Mizu had survived worse, but if they had to feel his skin on theirs one more time, they thought they would break to pieces.
In the morning, he would die. They would not even give him the chance to wake.
Mizu backed out of the room, only turning once Fowler was out of sight, and tried to block out the sound of his laughter echoing through the empty hallways as they ran, up the stairs and into the bedroom that they really didn't want to think of as theirs, slamming the door shut behind them and locking it, before opening the drawers of the wardrobe to rifle through their stash.
They had been collecting things from the house during their stay - sharp things. Knives, mostly, letter-openers and fire pokers. Anything they could take out of Fowler's hands to turn into a weapon in their own.
Laying them out on the bedside table, feeling the weight of metal in their hands, made Mizu feel a little safer.
* * *
The scent of smoke seeped into Mizu's dreams, as it so often did. They were scorched and blood-soaked things that would probably have frightened someone who was truly human - something they hadn't been in a long time, if ever. Most nights, the dreams just washed over them like water, a warm, deep red embrace.
They really must be a monster, because in this dream, as they took the lives of those they had decided deserved it, as they watched cities burn at their own hands, they felt safe. Held. They let themself sink into it - the smell of smoke really wasn't so bad, really, on nights like this.
Then Mizu felt something brush over their side.
They let out a bleary groan, rolling over on their back, leaning into the feeling of warmth that surrounded them, wrapped up so close and safe as the smell of metal and smoke filled their mouth, the scent of the only home they'd ever known.
They were not alone.
Mizu went very still as the realization hit them, shocking them out of the blood-filled dream.
His arms were wrapped around Mizu's frame, lying on his side next to them - one arm tucked beneath their head, one resting over their waist.
Mizu felt themself stop breathing.
They watched his chest rise and fall, slow, deep and even, but they couldn't tell if he was asleep. They shoved aside the panic, shoved aside the question of how had he even gotten in, swallowed down and choked on any thought except for what would keep them alive.
They'd left their weapons on the bedside table. If only they could reach them...
It was a shame to kill him so soon, before he'd even led them to their quarry. That was the only reason Mizu felt such a feeling of loss at the thought of slitting open his throat.
They moved slowly, hoping to disguise it as just shifting in their sleep. Slowly edging away from Fowler, then pausing, eyes closed, waiting in silence, fully prepared to spend minutes or hours perfectly still, if it meant that the predator whose arms laid wrapped around them would be lulled into a sense of security.
Instead, they found themself lying deathly still as Fowler sighed, pushing his torso up to lean over Mizu, one hand on either side of their face.
Eyes closed. Just wait.
"Mmmh, you sleep so soundly in my home... Oh, my dear. Did you really think I didn't have a spare key?"
For a second, something inside Mizu froze.
Then they lashed out, rolling over to reach for the knife. They barely brushed the edge of its handle - someone had moved it - only pushing it further away, knocking it over the edge with a metal clatter, stomach dropping with a rush of helpless panic. A hand on the top of their spine pushed them down into the mattress, couldn't breathe-
Pain seared through Mizu's right shoulder, hot as a brand, piercing deep into their muscles. They didn't think they could ever breathe again.
Mind numb with panic, it took far too long for them to realize that the agony that shot through them was a set of fangs sank deep into their flesh.
The sound that tore from their throat was nowhere near human, a strangled, desperate cry somewhere between a scream and a sob, as their hands scrabbled across the sheets, trying to tear themself free, only for Fowler to lay his full weight on them, pinning them against the mattress, knocking what little air they still had out of their lungs.
One of his hands wrapped around Mizu's throat, lifting it to give him better access, his teeth digging in deeper, even as Mizu felt like they were about to meet inside their flesh.
They had felt this before. The man who'd given their first mark had tried to be gentle. He'd made it quick.
This wasn't that. This wasn't a bond, this was violation, deep and invasive and so terribly wrong. Mizu heard themself cry, hot tears running down their cheeks, hot blood coating their shoulder, as they struggled weakly against the man who'd buried himself so deep inside them, knowing somewhere in their heart that there was no way they could ever be the same after this.
And he relished in it. His frame was pressed hard against theirs, even as they felt the fight run out of them with their blood, as if he simply couldn't get close enough. He moaned softly, the sound almost drowned out by Mizu's sobbing.
His fangs withdrew, only to snap back into the mangled flesh, once, twice, like a hunting dog with a rabbit. They felt his tongue lapping hungrily at the wounds, his mouth hot against their skin.
They had never felt so cold.