LeighAldridge

{A dark room. It's not immediately clear where we are, it could be anywhere. The dimly lit furniture in bad repair suggests the building was abandoned. A man sits with a chair beside an open window, the only source of light. Oscar Dalton. He looks up when another man comes into the room. It's Kampf, followed by a young man, Johann Dawson} Oscar (eagerly) "Well, did you get anything?" Kampf (taking a seat across the room) "I don't know why you asked me to do that. Can't you just take his word for what he saw? You better be paying me for this" Oscar "As if a man like you needs money. I asked you a question" Kampf "What he told you is true. Mr. Leone is dead. It seems his heart failed him" Oscar (in disbelief) "He had a heart attack? I thought that demon killed him" Kampf (sighs) "It seemed that way. No. He was due to die" Johann (to Oscar) "Herr Dalton, ah - what should we do now? I - I want to leave, Faust, if I can. There's someone, I -" (Johann is suddenly interrupted, by a

Do you suspect that Canada is void of criminals? That all Canadians are nice and get along with each other and their government? Believe that, if you'd like to. It gives us an advantage, and catches you off-guard. There is crime in Canada, in Montreal. I'm one of those men who society trusts to behave. But I'm a bootlegger, and I get angry when I don't get my way. Americans are hard for Canadian whiskey. And now a British gang fellow fancies getting involved with me. I hope he's at least good looking. British men can be so tame, such a bore. If he's only after money, he'll have to do better. If he's smart, he'll offer me something. I'll be staying up late, but I operate on little sleep, so I've decided to go for a walk. I'm waiting for a bus, not in a particular need to be anywhere, when a boy of around 10 taps me. He's sweet, so I'll entertain him. And the man beside him, Je ne peux tout simplement pas résister. I know it's an illness to enjoy men, but vice has never bothered me. I

I'm telling myself out of stubbornness that coming along to Montreal was a good idea. Ebichu is recovering at the hotel, with Clark, and Cecil wanted to get some sleep before his meetings tonight, so I've taken Yves for coffee at a nearby café. I should say actually, I ordered him a lemonade and let him take a few sips of my coffee. He's filled with excitement and energy, which helps me feel a little less stressed. I shouldn't be stressed, really, this was my idea. "Everyone seems to speak French here," Yves whispers, seeming impressed. I nod. "You're not worried about dad, are you?" he asks as a follow up, knowing me too well. "I always worry about him, and you. It's my job," I reply, with a smile. "What should we do after this?" he asks, sipping at his drink. The way he's styled his hair is almost copying his father, and it's getting longer too. "I thought we could see the museum? It looks like it might rain soon," I notice, looking at the sky outside, and a few people walking

Temperance hasn't taken hold in England, but it's led to interesting effects. Canada, now unable to sell product legally in America, has been seeking markets. Without too much dull preamble, I've been connected with a new opportunity to buy liquor and guns from abroad. Canadian whiskey, for example, can be expensive, as an import, and selling it (illegally) through our establishments has proven a fruitful venture. I prefer it to gin now, and I've heard Canadians are nice. Or want the reputation. I won't get my hopes up. Our contact is in Montreal, which intrigues me. Canada's little France. It'll be European, and not entirely dreadful, as it's summer. I'd never go in winter as I don't intend to die. "You're ready?" asks the husband, looking like he wants to tell me something. Just come out with it darling, I'm going to be late. "Can you manage a week without me?" "Well, I was thinking I could come too, with Yves" I don't want him to come. Has he learned anything? "Are you sure

Cecil loves going out; it’s sometimes a challenge to convince him to stay home with me. I know I shouldn’t complain, and I would hate feeling like I’m holding him back. So for him, when he suggests going somewhere, I put on a smile and go. He’s often busy, and I want to spend time with him where I can get it. And he looks his most beautiful when he’s happy. “Fred, they’ve a drink special here, can we go in?” he asks, having found a place he likes. Part of me is annoyed; when we go out, we can’t fully be ourselves. I hold his hand and he catches me, pulling it back. After a few drinks he cares less about being seen, and I find him on my arm. “Is that you? Cecil?” a man calls out, once we’re inside. I feel tense - I recognize that voice. I thought - he wouldn’t be here. He moved on. But he’s here now. “George!” Cecil calls back, with a bit more excitement than I want to hear. The old flame. Not only that, a man who treated my husband like an object meant to be used and thrown out.

It was not long after he stopped seeing Helen that I noticed the change. Fred wasn’t himself. He’s always been a bit of a quiet fellow, but recently it’s seemed to worsen. I’m seeing places where I’ve found myself in him. We can go a day sitting in the office together, hardly saying a word to each other. I used to enjoy talking to him, even if I was the one doing the majority. He would nod and listen, with a soft understanding smile, giving a comment here and there as I complained and gossiped. Leo has left London, for a long while he says, and old Hargreaves is out with an ulcer, so I have no one to talk to. I broke it off with Char too, and she sees me as the devil. I’ve had Helen for tea a few times, but she spends those times crying. Surely, it can’t go on like this. I even miss George, who’s still in prison and whom I may never see again. I can’t resort to seeing my father, or Vin again. I need to do something. “Fred,” I put it gently, coming up to his desk where he’s reading

1896. Father received a letter some time ago, from a businessman in Kaskel. It was an invite to meet, over a game of golf. Golf, I’ve never played, and I’ve only been to Kaskel once or twice. The demons there aren’t like us; they look at us like we’re strange, or worse, insane, for living among humans. I don’t think they have any sense between them. At any rate, I’ve asked to go, because I’m a bit worried. The man goes by Percheron Noble, and has started an odd new company - Human Resources. In his letter he talked about an odd new business called soul trade, calling it revolutionary. I can’t be sure of what he wants with my father. Life demons are considered interesting, which isn’t a good thing. We’ve been used, and at one time killed and hunted. I know little about my grandparents, only that they were orphans who probably had their parents murdered. Murder in Kaskel is not a crime. As soon as we meet Noble I decide I dislike him. I’m not very good at being fake pleasant, but

1900. It's spring, already. Frieden has invited us to a luncheon, in the city. Whereas we live in a country estate, my sister prefers the urban life. Her husband does to, with his various illicit activities, which I'd prefer not to speak about. Frieden has enough inheritance from our father not to depend on that man. She's the perfect wife, enough to make mine jealous, keeping her home looking immaculate. Unlike Die, she's skilled in the kitchen, and with all manner of crafts and embroidery. What does Die do well, besides spending my money, and being doted on by the dubious characters she calls her boyfriends? Life isn't entirely disappointing, for there's Max, whom I couldn't be more proud of. Die was appalled, but like me, she's involved with high class criminals. She does it well, and makes it clean and dignified as it's meant to be. Most summers she spends in Italy, and we visit often. Hehl on the other hand is still young, and I haven't given up on him. Doctors who specialize