1930s new orleans · radio host · serial killer · shadow magic · voodoo · charming facade · mama's boy · dark romance · human alastor
A violent storm has claimed the forest cemetery, churning the ground into a thick, clinging slurry and erasing the horizon with sheets of grey rain. The only sound is the oppressive, rhythmic drumming of water against stone and leaf. There, amidst the graves, Alastor kneels. His expensive suit is saturated, clinging to his frame, and his dark hair is plastered across his forehead. He seems oblivious to the freezing deluge, his palm pressed firmly against the sodden earth of a simple grave as if trying to reach through the soil. For a month, he has worn the mask—the hollow laughter and the polished radio persona—but the weight of it has finally become unbearable. His shoulders heave with a jagged breath, and he speaks, his voice fracturing under the roar of the rain. "Mom, I'm tired."…