Murder On The Air Chapter Seven

Chapter Seven: “There’s No Undoing What Is Done”

Winter, nineteen hundred and eleven

"I'm getting a divorce."

Those words alone were enough to fill Alastor and his mother with a mixture of relief and dread.

Words that were enough to make Alastor inwardly snap. It took all of his effort not to lash out at his father.

"No, please, honey," she said. There was some part of her that wasn't ready to let him go. "We can fix things."

"I've dealt with you and…that kid long enough," he scoffed.

"But why now?" she asked.

"I should've done it much sooner," he replied. "Thanks to you two, my negative reputation is finally catching up to me. Officials came in, stole my animal trophies, and left me a notice. It said that I'd have to become single and work somewhere else to get my status back. My friends agree with that."

"Ah can't believe dis!" Loretta exclaimed. "You're leaving us because we're bruising your fragile ego?"

Louis lowered his eyes. "You wouldn't understand. I wanted to stay with you as long as I could," he replied. "You and your son's interest in sinful acts has given me all the more reason to leave. I'm taking all our hard-earned money with me!"

"Don't!" she cried. That was another reason why she didn't want him to break up with her.

"That's final," he said. He glared at Alastor. "The process will take a while, but soon, I won't appear to be associated with…"

A knife flew toward him and lodged into the wall next to his head. Loretta stood with her hands cupped over her mouth. Louis glared at Alastor and pulled it out. "Do that again and see what happens."

After he walked out of the house, Loretta and Alastor shared their concerns.

"He had every chance to be a good father," Alastor said. "Now he wants a divorce because of us. We didn't even do anything, it's not fair!"

"Ah know, son. A white man livin' with colored folk would led to rejection and more hate from others. He had to have known that it would eventually come."

Alastor went to his room and sadly sketched drawings of crocodiles and deer.

Fifteen year old Alastor had recently discovered his long lost cousin Clementine Duvalier. She was a black woman and also French Creole. He had discovered her by looking at a paper which showed Alastor's family tree.

Loretta warned Alastor that parts of her family had deranged members. She told him that she was heavily involved in dark Voodoo and sinister acts.

Alastor, being the rebel that he was, ignored Loretta's protests and traveled to Layfette to visit her.

They got along at first sight, sharing their interests. Both of them even shared their stories of their fathers abusing them. Then she did something that Alastor didn't see coming. She pressured Alastor to attend the Church of Sacrifice, a murderous cult.

"My father and brother are leaders of this Church," she said. "If we kill wayward sinful families, we'll be granted eternal life."

Alastor didn't want to be part of another sinister group, but at the same time, he didn't want to let her down.

While there, Clementine, Alastor, and the other members killed several families in in cold blood. Clementine showed Alastor her method of killing: buttering the heads of the victims with an ax. A father, mother, and five young children were gruesomely arranged on a bed, with the bloodied ax by the foot of the bed. There were buckets of drained blood in the room and a message from the Bible written in blood on the wall.

She gave her friends and Alastor small brown "conjure bags" that would render them invisible to authorities. (They didn't actually work, and when they did, it was limited to an hour.)

When he asked her what sins the families had committed, the seventeen year old said, "best not to question anything."

The more people he killed, the more indifferent Alastor became. Like when he was with the other cult, he was pressured to kill against his will.

Alastor told himself that those families had done bad things like murder, racism, slavery etc. But he wasn't totally sure. In the back of his mind, he felt they were innocent.

But Alastor wanted to see more of his family. And if he did let her down, she probably would've brained him with her ax in minutes.

Thus, he resorted to sharing Voodoo spells and myths with her, until it was time for him to go back to New Orleans.

Alastor later found out that Clementine had been caught the same year and had testified against her father in court. She said that her father "made her and her brother kill those families," and that she was afraid of him. Clementine was in jail until she escaped in nineteen hundred and thirteen, before being caught again. After escaping decades later in nineteen twenty three, she had disappeared.

Autumn, nineteen hundred and eleven

High school was full of drama and, at the same time, it dragged on. Despite being a great basketball player, Alastor was still mercilessly bullied. Charming the girls didn't always work in his favor, and he found himself at odds with the popular kids. The others remarked on his mixed heritage and joked that his ponytail was "girlish."

He played in the school band, after practicing and failing at some instruments many times. He could play the piano, trumpet, violin, and saxophone. The violin was the hardest for him to prefect. He had also practiced singing in his spare time and was getting better at it. Some dances were easier than others. Some older folk remarked that he "danced too wild and fast," but he had a harder time with the slower dances. He couldn't stay still for very long.

Edward "Kid" Ory was one of Alastor's role models. He was a jazz trombonist and leader of a band. He had moved to New Orleans when he was twenty one and would often play at the Imperial Theater. Loretta and Alastor would watch and listen in amazement as he and his band played. Alastor watched the young adults on stage and was determined to be in a band like that when he became an adult.

During breaks from school and his menial jobs, Alastor would lean against the wall of the school, smoking a cigarette, catching the attention of several teen girls on the prowl for a charming "bad boy." Part of his face was hidden in shadow. The three girls flirted with him and asked him to hang out for a while. One of them was bold enough to ask if he wanted to make whoopee, which he did not appreciate in the slightest. A brown-haired girl caressed his shoulder, making him flinch.

"Why do you carry a knife with you?" one of them asked, noticing a long glint of light from his belt. "Are you a gangster?"

"No," he replied, with raised eyebrows.

"Oh I know, you're hoping to become a chef. Or a street fighter?"

Alastor shrugged his shoulders, feeling uncomfortable.

"It has to be the chef," said a blonde. "I'd love a husband who could cook with me! And the dazzling smile of yours…"

"Ah…yes, being a cook would be great. It requires many things…for instance, the naming of foods. Oh! Here's a question."

The girls stared with wide shining doe eyes. "What is it?"

"What kind of animal meat doesn't look like beef nor taste like chicken?"

"I don't know," said one of the girls. "That's a good riddle."

"I'll tell you when you get it right. It's one of my favorites," he said.

"Is it ham?" asked a girl.

"Nope."

"Lamb?"

"No."

"Roast beef?"

"He just said it wasn't beef," mentioned one of the other girls. "It'd only be the fanciest kind of meat, I'll bet."

"It has to be pork!" said the oldest girl.

"Bacon?"

"That is a kind of pork," said the older girl.

"Doesn't all meat taste like chicken?" asked the younger one.

"Have you even had meat before?"

"No, I'm a vegetarian."

"Maybe it's duck?" said another girl. "Or a horse."

"Deer? Pig? Rabbit? Goat? I don't know, just tell…"

Alastor had used their distraction to wonder over somewhere else.

"Hey, where'd he go?"

"Oh wait!" called another girl. "It's fish meat! I figured out your answer."

The jobs Alastor did were menial at best, stressful at worst. He would sell newspapers, clean up dance clubs, and on occasion, help circus performers with setting up tents and supplies. Being at the circus brought up fond memories of when he was younger and when his parents still got along. After watching the performers do tricks, he and his family would travel to an amusement park to enjoy the rides. It only happened every couple of years when they had saved enough money.

He remembered winning a stuffed deer at a ring toss, enjoying cotton candy, and gagging after eating ketchup and canned foods. Since then, he had been an Epicurean, very particular in food taste and texture. He fed and pet the animals at the petting zoo, thankful there weren't any dogs around.

He even went to a fortune teller to see how accurate her predictions would be. The black haired woman, dressed in purple shawls and large earrings had placed Tarot cards in front of him. The Fool card, representing curiosity and beginnings, was drawn as his card for his childhood. For his future teenager card, the Hermit was chosen, representing isolation. Justice was the chosen card for adulthood, adding to karma. Last of all, the Devil card was placed in front of him, for if he made it past age thirty.

At the time, he didn't know what they meant, but it was fascinating all the same.

Now, Alastor wasn't having fun at a circus. He was being dragged by his father to an unfriendly-looking concrete building. A hanging sign read "Reducto's and Baxter's Insane Asylum."

"Papa, let go! This is bushwa!"

"We're getting to the bottom of all this. We'll figure out what's got your head whacked up all these years."

"Mama didn't want this to happen!" She had protested when Louis had decided to take Alastor away.

"It's not up for her to decide such things!"

Louis opened the door and they stepped inside. The waiting room was dull, with a smoky haze in several areas. The two of them sat in the waiting room until Alastor was called.

The therapist was an old white man with short hair, and crooked glasses. He was apathetic and dull.

Alastor cried out when his father left him in the room, going back to work.

Alastor sat awkwardly in his chair, smile still etched on.

"You're Alastor Crowley, yes?"

"Yes sir."

"Based on records provided to you by your father, it appears you have some significant conditions. Listing your behaviors here as follows: killing animals, refusing to go to church, happy one moment then mad the next. Many people have claimed to see you murder innocent civilians. Is that correct?"

"They weren't innocent," he replied.

"Answer the question. Yes or no."

"Yes."

"Colored folk getting into more problems in this city every day. People will be glad to not be in fear of you hunting everybody down."

Alastor wanted to snap this man's neck.

"What made you kill those people?"

"I just felt like it," he replied nonchalantly.

"You have no sense of restraint nor morals. You don't realize these folk have families of their own. And you spread unease around New Orleans."

"I do rather enjoy it," he admitted.

After a few IQ tests, the therapist spoke again.

"Based on your assessments, you appear to have psychopathic tendencies and narcissistic personality disorder. Your charming persona is used to keep others off guard…to not arouse suspicion of your true motives. Your smile, your gentlemanly behavior, all tactics to make others trust you before finishing them off later. You love to be in the spotlight where crowds of people can stroke your ego."

"You constantly seek entertainment and stimulation. And what better way to do it than for you to mindlessly murder people just for the thrill of it? You've used many different tactics according to witnesses: knives, an ax, hand-to hand combat…and you know how to use guns, too. You believe that by murdering others, you'll fulfill your need for thrills and prove your dominance to others. Am I correct, Mr. Crowley?"

Alastor nodded and spoke sarcastically. "Looks like you do understand me after all."

Alaator's charming demeanor would his method of leading Charlie astray in Hell, decades later.

The therapist read off a list of the common traits of psychopathy:

"Superficial charm, manipulative, grandiose sense of self-worth, need for stimulation, proneness for boredom, lack of empathy, many short term early relationships, behavioral problems, pathological lying, lack of long term goals, criminal versatility, lack of remorse, impulsivity and irresponsibility."

"In short, you're an antisocial, manipulative, apathetic murderer who is constantly in search of entertainment. Not to mention sexual troubles and dysfunction."

Alastor shrugged.

"You'll stay the week under close supervision," the therapist finished.

Alastor protested, but was soon taken away by two guards wearing white.

For the next day and a half, Alastor was forced to take medications that made him sick. Antidepressants and narcotics. For hours, he felt nothing, no happiness, no sadness. Just a blank mind. His body was covered with scratches and cuts.

And he was constantly bored when not in fear. Boredom was his worst enemy.

Whenever he misbehaved or made mistakes, he would receive painful shocks to his body or his brain. The needle injections were especially annoying and painful.

Not to mention being confined to his cell with nothing to do. The only drinks were water and noodle juice, the latter tasting horrible. Food was only mush and maybe a few carrots.

There were other criminals locked in rows of cells, many of them black. They were drug dealers, rapists, vandals and some really were messed up in the head. They were the kinds of people that Alastor had deemed "lost causes," the types that Alastor swore he would never become. Yet, here he was, labeled as an abomination to society. One of them banged against the door and yelled curse words at Alastor and the doctors. Alastor was shown to his cell and locked in.

To his horror, there were a few women locked up as well. Those who refused to submit to their husbands, walked around naked, or had children out of wedlock. Some were lesbians, others had vandalized churches or police buildings.

Several days later, Alastor was still locked up in a concrete windowless cell block. Only a bunk bed, toilet and sink were in the room.

Deep down, he knew that his father wasn't coming back for him. He had clung onto false hope for the past couple days. His mother was stuck at home under his orders, so there was no help there. He'd be stuck here until his dying breath.

It was all up to him to escape.

Focusing hard, he summoned flames in his hands, these ones angry and red, despite the plastered smile on his face. One of the guards spotted him as he patrolled the halls.

"Hey!"

The iron door caught fire after throwing a fireball. The flames ate at the bars and soon the iron door collapsed on top of him. The guard pressed a button in the wall and alarms blared.

Officers swarmed in, carrying stun guns. The men were knocked back by the blasts that Alastor threw at them. The men screamed as flames coated their bodies. He raced through the flames and snapped his fingers. All the other cell doors unlocked.

"Everyone, get out of here!" he called out. He fired another blast from his hands and an exploding hole was formed in another concrete wall.

One woman coughed, looking at him in surprise. "How did the doors unlock?"

"Just found a hidden button in the wall," he lied. "Now go!"

"Bless you, sir," she coughed before hurrying out.

One crazed madman leapt from his cell and launched himself at Alastor with loud swears. Alastor moved out of the way and punched him hard in the face. The man sprawled back and tripped backwards into the growing flames.

The prisoners and criminals rushed out through the hole, Alastor following. He ran off further into the distance.

"A warlock and a negro. I should've known you'd be trouble. You're going to the Big House, young man."

Alastor whirled around to find the old therapist, holding a stun gun at him.

The therapist locked eyes with Alastor outside the wall and glared. With a swift kick, Alastor knocked the stun gun from the man's hands.

Then Alastor did what he had felt like doing several days ago after hearing the therapist's racist remarks.

He promptly snapped the old man's neck.

The asylum building was now on fire. Good riddance. The others would find their way on their own. Making sure that no one could see evidence of magic being used, he sent a shadowy smog over the building. A temporary spell of forgetfulness required his blood, so he cut into his palm. Surprisingly, he had memorized it from reading one of Antoinette's spell books. It was amazing how he had remembered to cast it.

Alastor hurried away from the building and then along the sidewalk, running as fast as his legs could carry him. He shoved a brown skinned cleaning lady out of the way as he ran.

He stopped to catch his breath. There were bags under his eyes and he was utterly exhausted. Black spots danced across his vision. He knew he would have to recover for a bit before doing magic again.

Alaator arrived home, shaken, but in one piece.

His mother hugged him tightly. "Oh Al! Ah was so worried! How in da world did ya escape the asylum?"

"Magic," he replied with a shrug. "And I may have accidentally burned down the place."

Loretta sighed. "Ah do feel for da people locked up in there. But you're safe and that's what matters."

Loretta glanced down at the blood on his clothes. "What on earth happened to you? Go wash up!"

"It's a long story," he replied before wandering off.

Loretta read the newspaper as Alastor left. The headline read: "Local Asylum set Aflame by Crazed Escaped Patient."

Yep, that had to have been Alastor.

She read how some claimed that the person had used magic, but most of them had dismissed their theories. There was a black and white photo of Alastor in his Vigilante costume, the ski mask, the knives, and the flaming bike helmet with antlers. Loretta peered closer at it and she could tell it was him from the posture and the large grin. Why hadn't she noticed it before?

A section to the side read "Tormentor of Evil: Avenger Wanted or Needed?"

"Teenage boy cloaked in dark clothes has been spotted by several witnesses during the past several weeks. Commonly referred to as the Vigilante or the Avenger, he was involved in the death of mugger Marcus Denison, wealthy white elite Helena Gerald, owner of several slaves, and several gang members who had looted a store and vandalized parade floats with racial slurs. He reportedly appears in the city at night whenever there's trouble. On occasion, he talks to people in the daytime, luring them into the woods before finishing them off. No one knows how he tracks them down."

"One witness, claims that he had several knives, a spare ax, and a row of smiling teeth. He claims that he is capable of using fire magic to see in the dark, and supposedly burn the bodies. A majority of individuals dismiss the possibility of the existence of magic and magicians."

"Others affirm that he is nothing but a delinquent criminal, who scares people with fire tricks and dangerous weapons. The most likely candidate is a multi-racial teen named Alastor. Do not approach if you see him. The New Orleans Police Department urges anyone to alert them if they see anything suspicious."

So Alastor was the Vigilante after all. She could understand where he was coming from, but he was putting himself at risk more and more. How many more people could her son harm in his teenage phase?

In addition, he wasn't using his magic in secret. She was surprised that the police hadn't shot him on the spot, yet.

The predictions told at his birth had come true. Her son was becoming an evil mass murderer.

Loretta was at a conflict of decision. Should she let her son kill the horrible people and live his life in freedom? Or call the police and turn him in, thus bringing so called peace to the city?

She stood up, put the paper down, and tiptoed toward the phone.

"Ah'm sorry son," but this is for the greater good."

Perhaps she could plead with them to have him in a rehab center instead? He would live a mundane life, but hopefully he and so many other people would be safe.

But first, she would have to figure out how to get him to control his destructive magic.

Either he would learn how to use the magic of the Rada, use Petro magic for healing purposes only, or…if it came to it…not use magic at all.

But with his powers being a part of him, his identity would be lost…and maybe even his life. Only a complex ritual could remove a person's magic.

She didn't know if she had that kind of expertise to perform it. She only wanted what was best for her son and the city.

Louis had come to visit off and on, but was either busy at work or hanging out in the bar. Her hand had briefly glowed when she had touched his back, trying to get him to his former self. He had ignored her, gave her a quick kiss and was off.

She walked up to the phone and turned the dial toward nine. Turned it again toward one.

Just one more turn to the one dial.

The authorities would be here, and hopefully the city could be safe from any further harm. At the very least, perhaps Louis would make peace with her…be closer to the man he once was.

What else was she to do?

Apparently, she didn't have to think about it…

For a magical force had suddenly gripped at her throat. She clutched at her throat, even though there was nothing there. She turned around and spotted her son standing there. His outstretched hand glowed with a red aura, and his smile was still on his face.

Loretta choked out and collapsed to her knees. "Ah'm such a fool," she thought.

The choking feeling subsided and she suddenly felt tired.

She saw him tower over her before her world turned black.

Loretta opened her eyes. She was in the kitchen and appeared to be sitting in a wooden chair. Rope was wrapped around her chest and her hands were tied with rope behind her back.

"What da…"

"Hello, Mama, are you alright?"

Loretta's eyes widened as she saw her son in front of her. And…was that a kitchen knife in his hand?

She let out straining grunts as she struggled to free herself. The chair she was sitting in hardly moved at all.

The knife glinted dangerously in the electric light.

"How did ya…"

"I heard you say, "I'm sorry, this is for your own good." Probably shouldn't have spoken your thoughts out loud."

He laughed.

Loretta's eyes glowed blue and a faint red glow came from the rope around her. The blue light snuffed out when it reached the red magic.

"Don't bother trying anything," Alastor mentioned. "Papa taught me how to tie knots in the woods. If you look closely, this rope is strengthened with magic. Only I can set you free."

"Oh you'd betta, or else you'll be getting' the paddle and be grounded for life. In fact, ya already are!"

Alastor chuckled darkly and held the knife closer.

Frightened tears fell from her eyes.

"Wat's wrong, Mama?" Alastor asked as he wiped her tears with his fingers from his free hand. "There's no need to cry."

She didn't think her life would end like this. Being betrayed by her own son. The evil had finally gotten into him. She should've known that he would finish off those who stood in the way of his goals.

Perhaps this was the ultimate cost of bringing her son to life…eventually losing her own.

She muttered a prayer. She was waiting for him to say, "Any last words?"

So she said some instead. "May all the spirits and the Holy Ones above haunt you forever after you kill me."

Alastor suddenly looked taken aback. "What? No, no, no, why in the world would I do that?"

"Oh, ya gonna torture me instead?"

"No Mama. But I also cannot let you call the coppers on me. One call and it's over for me."

"Your life is almost over already! Ah warned ya not to be reckless with your magic. And what did ya do? Exactly that!"

"I had no choice. You didn't see the fear in the innocent victim's eyes before they were almost chilled off by Johnson brothers and Trouble Boys. In fact, there were some I couldn't save, and I still feel regret ever since."

"And what about you?! You may think New Orleans is some playground, but one more false move and you'll be in da Big House for life. You'll be powerless and Ah won't be able to save you. Your reputation will be ruined just like dat."

"Then help me fix it. We'll use our magic to make the public forget about what I did…the moments when I did use magic."

Alastor had enjoyed being seen as a heroic justice fighter behind the scenes. And yes, there were many close calls, including one time where a bullet narrowly missed his head. He was lucky to be in one piece.

"Well, you can start by letting me out of this!" Loretta said. "Ah'll make sure that you won't be able to use and abuse your powers again."

Alastor seethed. "And here you were, all these years ago, encouraging me to use my powers for good! I couldn't just sit there and use my magic for simple repairs and growing pretty flowers all day, could I?"

Loretta scoffed in frustration. "Ah only wanted to protect ya! There's really no common sense in that teenage head of yours. Ah've never seen a more stubborn boy in mah life. Havin' powers doesn't excuse you from not dealin' with life like everyone else. Like an adult."

"I am an adult," Alastor stated calmly, trying not to lose it. "I did what had to be done. And we both know that my magic is more powerful than yours."

Loretta knew he was right.

She decided to try another approach, feeling bad as she lied.

"Your father was right. If Ah have to give up my life so you can't use your powers…then so be it."

Alastor's eyes looked frightened. His smile faltered, which was very unusual. Meaning that she had gotten through to him.

"Mama…"

"Ya heard me!"

Alastor held up his hands. "Okay, okay. I know of a way for us to compromise. It's the part that I was getting to in the first place."

"A deal, isn't it."

Alastor nodded.

Loretta cleared her throat. "Ah will not take part in it unless both our magic energies are combined. We are on equal terms."

"Fair enough, cool beans," Alastor replied.

"You're cold beans," she spat. "Now what do ya want?"

Alastor's smile returned. "You will be freed after we shake hands. You will not be able to tell anyone about what my actions were…or what I'll do in the future, should I choose to save people and live my life."

Loretta nodded.

"And that includes gestures, writing, and signals, too."

Loretta sighed. "Let me be level with ya, Ah was conflicted. Ah want what's best for ya and the city. You being able to live a happy free life…that's all Ah ever wanted. But Ah also want da city to be safe, too. To think Ah was this close to turnin' ya in…"

She broke out into sobs again. Alastor tried to hide the sadness in his eyes.

"Now, mah turn," she said, after taking a breath. "You will swear to be careful and only use magic as a last resort. You and Ah will combine our magic and make sure no one knows about it. Also, you will compensate for what you've done by doing community service and finding a harmless hobby that you like. No more killin's out of revenge. One more reckless move and you'll be sayin' goodbye to magic. Mah spell will allow me to see where ya are at all times."

Yep, she was just your typical overprotective parent.

"Also, the people won't forget who ya are as a person, so do try and show some decency around them."

Alastor rolled his eyes. "Oh fine, then."

"Remember, you do your part and Ah'll do mine. The spells will be strong. Any breakin' of the agreement will result in heavy guilt and consequences. Not death for either person, thankfully."

Her right arm glowed teal.

"Repeat it."

Alastor repeated it in affirmation before his right arm glowed red.

Alastor's hand glowed red and a strange green light filled the room. "So, it's a deal, then?"

One of the ropes holding Loretta's hands snaked away, allowing her to move it.

She reached over and together, mother and son shook hands. Both their bodies glowed as Rada and Petro magic merged together, equally. Their outlines turned golden before the voodoo symbols and energy faded.

The humming magic from the ropes ceased. Loretta snapped her fingers and the ropes all fell away.

"I didn't want to do that, but again, I had to."

"Why didn't ya use the knife?"

Alastor smirked. "That was just for show. A perfect scare tactic."

Loretta stood up and promptly slapped her son several times in the face.

"Owww!" he clutched his face.

"We both admit that ya deserved that," she said. Even Alastor had to agree.

"But ya also deserve this…"

She warmly wrapped her arms around him, his chin resting on her head. Alastor tightly returned the hug, almost breaking down in her arms.

Loretta heard some commotion outside and let go. "The spell. Now."

They both raced outside and after facing the oncoming crowd, they raised their hands in the air.

Soon enough, New Orleans had forgotten about all the times when Alastor had used magic. It was a good thing too…because Louis and the witch hunters had almost arrived at their door.

Loretta and Alastor gasped as Louis and the men looked around, confused, holding guns and torches. They all wore silver crosses around their necks. Loretta grabbed Alastor and pulled him into the house before locking the door. They both collapsed in bed after using so much magic.

The next several days went by smoothly. Sure enough Alastor had volunteered to do some extra cleaning and sweeping around the city. He ignored all the jeers thrown at him. He was able to sign up for a band and begin practicing.

Then, one night, Louis got home and asked how Alastor got out of the asylum.

"Did he use filthy magic again?"

"I used magic to break him out," she claimed.

Apparently, the spell wasn't completely effective, as Louis still remembered who he and his family were.

"You witch and our bastard warlock son. I should've turned you both in. Loretta, I'm giving you one last chance to instill the religion of the Lord onto your son…without mercy."

Loretta shook her head. "Ain't gonna happen."

He gripped onto her dress.

"You're my wife and you'll do as I say. I expect both of you to be singing and praying to Him when I return. Or I will turn you in."

"You really want to do that?" Loretta asked.

Louis paused. "If I must…yes." He let go. He poked Alastor harshly in the chest. "You will not bring further taint this family's reputation…and especially not my own."

The thundering of his boots could be heard as he hopped into his car and drove off to the bar.

"Mama?"

"Yes, son?"

"Do you know what bar he goes to at night?"

"Yes Ah do," she replied, telling him the location. "He used to take me there all da time. He hangs out with his horny buddies and doesn't take me there anymore."

"I might go get something to drink there," he said. "It's been a long day."

"Be careful."

Alastor couldn't fight the peculiar nagging feeling inside him. Anger? Excitement? A hint of regret? It was a flood of feelings hidden beneath his signature grin he was wearing at the moment.

The feeling resulted in him packing a heavy duty backpack of essentials. A lighter, cigarettes, a dark trash bag, several circular strands of rope, a gag, some knives, and of course, a shrunken form of his father's rifle.

Feeling as if he was missing something, he found the last essential item.

It was a red and white box that read "New Orleans Style Jambalaya Mix" in fancy letters. The packet had an image of the dish, complete with yellow rice and sausage slices.

He took it and packed it in a separate larger pocket of his backpack.

"One can never be too careful," he said to himself.

He was ready and hummed happily as he reached the front door.

"Where are ya going?" asked his mother sharply as she stood nearby.

Like a deer in the headlights, Alastor froze.

"That's an awfully large load to be taking with ya for just a simple visit to the bar."

Alastor turned his head to the right and smirked.

"I'm going to go hunt a stag."

Realization sparked in her eyes as they grew wider. Loretta walked down the hall. "Ya know Ah can't let ya go," she mentioned.

So, so close…

Alastor turned around, dejectedly.

She returned and stopped in front of him.

"Not without these."

She held his ski mask and bike helmet in her hands.

Alastor was stunned. "Mama…"

"You want to be the Vigilante one last time, do ya not?"

Wordlessly, Alastor nodded and took the items. He put on the mask and strapped on his helmet.

"You can tell him that Ah sent you," she added.

"Believe me, dear, I'll be glad to send the message."

She stroked his cheeks and kissed her masked son on the forehead.

"Mah little boy's all grown up! Please be careful, Al."

Alastor tilted his helmet to her before walking out the door and vanishing into the night.

A dark smirk crept up to her face, even as her mind screamed, "What have Ah done?"