Bandages and Salt (PJO X BSD AU)

Chapter seventy-two

A/N: Vague sexual acts, you should be able to know it's coming and skip to the next section if uncomfortable. Also, I just want to say that I wrote this chapter almost a year before information about the Crime and Punishment ability (other than Fyodor being able to kill with his touch) was revealed, so no surprise resurrections

"Our?" Chuuya asks, something broken in his voice as if he already suspected something and wanted it desperately not to be true. It was the same voice that Dazai had held for days now.

(For years.)

The demon smiled at the vessel of a god, pure destruction in a human form. He could already see the gears turning in the younger's mind and knew that it wouldn't be long now before the others saw it too.

"Our," the Russian man confirms with a smile that would put the devil himself to shame. "Now, be good and go waist with the other guest," Fyodor ordered bluntly, gesturing Ithaca his free hand to the demigods waiting on the other side of the room.

Their eyes were wide in fear, even as no blood covered the ground. Chuuya didn't know why they feared the demon already, but knew that they did so. That they knew what power the terrorist held in the tips of his fingers without a present display.

(They had seen, months ago now when a stranger had come to New York, a monster turned to dust by a simple touch. He had claimed to be the child of a god, never said which one though and was good at talking around the subject for the little time that he was around them, though never at camp. It was enough for the demigods to know the destruction that he carried within him, and enough to listen when he had spoken of Japan and having met others like himself from there.

He never said that they were demigods, but they hadn't known what else the foreigners that the man spoke of could be)

The Agency members and present mafiosos moved slowly, no sudden movements to be found. Nothing that would set the older man off as they walked to the demigods and the two toned mafia members, a hand still held tight around Atsushi's arm. Even in their hesitance and caution they still remembered the problem placed before them, the one other than the weretiger's predicament.

"Who is your partner then?" Kunikida asked as he sat slowly down on the ground next to a blond girl that couldn't be much older than twenty - three as well. There was an intelligent light in her cold eyes, the sort that you find on battlefields. The sort that never leaves once you have it.

He had seen it in Dazai's eyes as well.

Drovostkey smiled at that as if he found something in the question to be funny, something small that they were all missing.

"Come now," the older man says with a disappointed voice, "detectives are supposed to be smart, yes?" He asked, the glint in his eyes more dangerous than before. "There's only so many things that connects us all."

"Dazai," Chuuya said at the same time that Annabeth did.

Drovostkey smiled like a sort of devil, the detectives knew why the bandaged man called the other a demon.

"Do let the boy go," a new voice called, one tnay was cold in a way that haunted Akutagawa's dreams - his nightmares - even now, one that the others weren't used to hearing spoken in such a way. "I'd hate for you to get blood all over your white clothes, Fyeda."

"You didn't mind when we first met," the Russian ability user countered, but still let Atsushi go, pushing the weretiger in the direction of the detectives, mafiosos, and demigods.

"No," Dazai agrees easily, almost fondly even, "I suppose I didn't."

There was a soft smile glow in the darkness from where the detective's voice was coming from. Even as it didn't shine too brightly, something about it felt old and threatening, like it was made from a pure sort of power that the Agency and mafia members were hardly even touched by. It was the same sort of feeling that had hung in the air earlier that day when Dazai had killed the spider creature outside of the Agency dorms.