October 16, 2023

Nathan's first inkling that something is wrong comes when Jamie's eyes go saucer-wide in an instant.

At first, he doesn't understand why. Nothing seems to be off. He and Jamie are standing under the red awning of Gelateria Salvatore on a quay along the vast Giudecca Canal, engaging in lighthearted bickering on the validity of biting into the ice creams they're holding. They get to do so undisturbed by Jamie's parents, who mill about the outdoor seating area in hopes of finding a table that meets their standards, and Stella and Gino, who prove mutually indecisive about which of a whopping forty ice cream flavors they'd like to choose and therefore still linger inside. The quay itself still buzzes with energy—people from all walks of life and corners of the world pass by, having a good time while an accordeon player looking to make a quick buck serenades them.

So none of this is out of the ordinary. It's a mundane Venetian evening like any other. Yet, Jamie's voice trailed off into nothingness right in the middle of stating that Nathan should consult with his dentist if his teeth are truly that sensitive. And silencing Jamie tends to be a hard thing to do. Alarms go off in Nathan's head. His scar even stings a little, which means he might have a new stress response.

"What?" he asks, growing more worried by the second. "What's wrong?"

Jamie has gone slightly slack-jawed, but finds the strength to speak. "It's here."

Nathan immediately knows the actual reason his scar hurts. He just didn't want to believe it before. He still doesn't, but Jamie is pointing to the left, and what he sees as he follows the trajectory of her finger confirms his worst fears. A humanoid figure lumbers through the crowd, clad in shabby black robes and a discoloured plague doctor's carnival mask.

The killer is in Venice.

It makes its way across the quay and towards the gelateria slowly, but Nathan and Jamie are the only ones fazed by its presence. Tourists and passersby glance at it—some amused and laughing, others weirded out or annoyed—but most simply go about their day. "What's it doing here?" Jamie sputters out, voice low and quiet. "How did it find us and why the fuck are people not batting an eye?"

Nathan would like the answers to these questions, too, but fears he won't like them once they're in his possession. He watches, tense, while the creature gets closer and closer, and there really is only one reason he can think of to explain the Doctor's presence in the city.

It came for him and Jamie.

But what does it want?

"Be careful," Nathan warns just in case, struggling to keep his hands from accidentally crushing his ice cream cup. "This can't be good."

"What are you pointing at, dear?" A female voice asks Jamie from behind. "Did you find a good table? The best ones all seem occupied..."

Jamie stops pointing at once, startling at her mother's sudden appearance. "What's... a table?"

Linda Carrera either fails to catch or chooses to ignore this stress-and-confusion-fuelled comment. She's in an excellent mood tonight, has been sporting an imperturbable smile throughout their walk to the gelateria. She's an American tourist let out to play on a pleasantly warm October evening in one of the world's most unique cities and thriving on it. When her eyes fall on the Doctor, Nathan spots a faint echo of the excited twinkle he's used to seeing in Jamie's.

"Oh, that's an even better find. A street performer! So quaint and local!"

For once, Jamie looks at her mother like she's an alien instead of it being the other way around. "Street performer?"

"Yes! That costume truly exemplifies the Carnival." Linda waves her husband over with fervour. "Lio, come see this! Don't you think a picture with that actor would look lovely on display among the rest in the hallway?"

"Picture?"

"Sweetheart, you know perfectly well what a picture is. You could join us if you want, though of course it isn't 'rad'—that's how you kids say it these days, isn't it?—to pose for a photograph with your parents. But don't worry about it, as your father and I don't mind simply getting one together."

Jamie is so out of it she forgets to cringe. She watches Linda and Emilio go in abject, stunned helplessness, wearing a look of mortification appropriate for someone witnessing their parents walk up to a Murder Creature of Plague Island without a care in the world. Nathan sees it all play out before him, his scar stinging more and more, and understands her brain has stopped computing this. Static, white noise, full system crash.

It's time for him to take charge.

"Hold this." He hands Jamie his ice cream, which she's just barely able to accept without dropping it. "I'm gonna keep an eye on them and nothing bad will happen, okay? Go inside, get to Stella and Gino, and distract them. Make sure they don't notice the Doctor."

He succeeds at making himself sound more confident than he feels. He hopes keeping Jamie's parents out of trouble should be doable, but Stella and Gino joining the fray might only complicate matters further. This thought must get through to Jamie as well and spurs her into action. With a hasty nod, she pivots on her heels and rushes into the gelateria, almost knocking over a coupe-carrying waitress in the process.

Upset as she may be, Nathan has complete faith in Jamie's ability to distract, so he doesn't worry about it as he hobbles after Linda and Emilio at a respectable distance. Their backs are turned to him—Emilio is attempting to get the Doctor's attention, gesturing and talking to him in his hispanic pseudo-Italian. The Doctor stops and stands rigid, seemingly observing the approaching American couple, but Nathan feels the eyes hiding behind the carnival mask may be looking straight past them, seeking him out instead.

Nothing can happen, he tells himself, repeating this over and over in his head. Darkness may already have fallen, but the quay along the Giudecca Canal is still bustling, and the Doctor must know it can't cause anyone here physical harm and expect to get away unscathed. Nathan had a violent confrontation in a subway months ago, but even a fool like Patch Booker knew not to draw a gun on public transport. If the Doctor is smart enough to somehow make its way off Poveglia and into Venice, it is also smart enough to keep itself out of harm's way.

"He's not a talkative one, is he? Either he doesn't speak English or he's very passionate about his role." Nathan hears Linda say this once he's come to a halt behind Jamie's parents—the Doctor still stands rigid and silent, unresponsive to whatever the couple hurled at him. Linda pretends to hold a camera and clicks a button. "Again, we'd like a picture with you, signore, if you don't mind."

Emilio digs into his pocket and produces some spare change. The phrase he utters likely means the pair is willing to compensate the Doctor for its trouble.

Like a rusty robot springing to sudden life, the Doctor turns its head to study Emilio's Euro coins. If only to keep its cover intact, it nods.

"Mr. and Mrs. Carrera," Nathan begins. "I can take your picture if you'd like." He throws a subtle, hateful glare at the Doctor in the seconds before they turn, but rearranges his features into a more pleasant expression right after.

Linda gives him a smile. "You would? Now that's a gentleman! Thank you, Nathan."

Heh. Gentleman. If Patch and Eva Booker had been around to hear that, they would've been rolling on the floor by now. Nathan readies his phone's camera, never losing sight of the Doctor, while Jamie's parents figure out their pose. When they're all set, the pair stands next to the Doctor, Emilio with his arm draped around Linda's waist.

"Looks great," Nathan tells them. "Say cheese."

They do, and Nathan takes their pictures. Linda is practically glowing, delighted to be here in this place and this moment and to be able to frame it for posterity once she gets home. Even Emilio seems happy, wearing a smile of his own. Nathan finds this odd to see, as, unlike his wife and youngest daughter, the man employs his smiles the way Stella does—sparingly. But he's smiling now, enjoying this time with his wife, and together they live in blissful ignorance of the fact they're posing for a picture with an undead murderer.

They don't notice how much Nathan struggles to keep his hands from shaking.

"That was amazing. Grazie mille." Linda thanks the Doctor in Italian, clearly proud of her cosmopolitan language skills. As she walks up to Nathan, she makes a note under her breath to ask Gino how often Italians tend to wash their clothes. "Are there keepers among the pictures?"

"Sure," Nathan says. "What number do I text them to?"

"Send them all to Jamie," Emilio states. "She can share them with us. We'll make sure she doesn't forget."

Nathan raises his eyebrows. "Why bother her with it? I could easily send them to you directly."

"Send them all to Jamie," Emilio repeats. "I believe that would be the best way to go about it."

Which, Nathan suspects, translates to I neither want nor need your phone number in any capacity. He still shouldn't care, but it stings as much as his scar does regardless. A gentleman, maybe, but still not good enough for King Emilio's daughter. The daughter you've treated like garbage, you crusty old fuck.

"If you insist, that's what we'll do." Nathan swallows the more colorful phrases racing through his head, if only because his lashing out would put Jamie in a tough position again. He narrows his eyes at the Doctor, redirecting this extra anger at the creature. "I'll do it soon, but I'll take my own picture first."

"I could snap it for you," Linda offers. "Quid pro quo."

Nathan doesn't know what that phrase means and he isn't going to bother asking. He just needs these people out of here. "Nah, thanks. It's a selfie I want."

Jamie's parents leave him alone with the Doctor. Nathan heaves a sigh of relief—Jamie will be able to rest easy knowing her parents didn't get mauled by a mysterious revenant today. Yet, tension still rushes through his blood stream, his magic scar its pulsing, painful source. This situation and the gravity of it are turning his mind into a confused mess.

He isn't walking away from this creature without answers. And he supposes he needs to take a selfie now, too.

"Listen up. I don't care if you understand English or not." Nathan walks up to the Doctor, making himself look as big as possible while fighting off a pained flinch. "You and I, we're going to play nice, and we're going to take a picture, and you'll answer the questions I ask you truthfully. Without words if you have to."

Another thing Nathan learned on the streets—always make sure the Other Guy is more afraid of you than you are of him. Doesn't matter if you're shit-your-pants-terrified in actuality, like he is right now. You just pretend in order to stay alive. Nathan throws his left arm around the bony shoulders hiding underneath the Doctor's robe, pulling the creature closer to him for a picture. He struggles not to recoil in disgust, for it smells like dust and disease and a twinge of rotten meat, and his pain triples in white-hot flashes the moment they touch. He thinks he hears tortured screaming in a dark distance far away. But he holds on despite it all.

He's making a point here.

"How did you find us?" Nathan asks while he takes his selfie, the revenant next to him not moving an inch. It's like hugging a life-sized, decaying rag doll capable of murder. Nathan tries not to gag, his appetite for ice cream promptly lost. "And what do you want from us?"

To his surprise, the creature understands him. It still doesn't make a sound, but it moves. At an excruciatingly slow pace, it lifts a gloved hand, stretching a crooked finger in Nathan's direction. The finger comes to rest on Nathan's chest, squarely where his heart is. The glove-obscured nail is razor-sharp. Nathan's body struggles through the pain, but his mind stumbles over the apparent answer to the questions he asked.

How did you find us? What do you want?

He's the answer to both, and the Doctor wanted him to know.

"Let's make one thing very clear, Doc," Nathan forces out despite his shock. "If you come after me or anyone I care about, I'm going to make you way more dead than you already are." He doesn't say that that's the plan regardless—a plan he and Jamie can't back out of anymore, this recent development taken into account. He releases the Doctor with a shove hard enough to be felt, but soft enough to go unnoticed by passersby. "Get fucking lost."

Nathan walks back to the gelateria, his head clearing as the pain ebbs away with each step he takes. Subtle glances behind him prove the Doctor stays rooted in place. It didn't come out here to kill. It came here to warn. To scare. And it succeeded. Nathan's heart beats wild in his ribcage.

It's him. He's been the root cause all along. It goes back to before he came to Italy, before he even knew what a Poveglia was. In a daze, the memory of encountering a not-deer flows back to him, as well as what Jamie said after they made it back to his car. My channel's eight-year anniversary was a few weeks ago, but nothing of the sort has ever happened to me before. What changed?

Nathan. His presence. That's what changed.

Through the magic still tainting him, Nathan could sense the Not-deer, the Doctor. But they've been able to sense him right back all along. These creatures, they must be drawn to him and the magic within.

On Poveglia, the Doctor may only have gone after Jamie because Nathan didn't seem to be going anywhere and it wouldn't have sufficed to leave witnesses, loose ends. Doctor or deer, it was never about her for these creatures. It was about him. Jamie would've been far safer in both instances if he hadn't been around.

He's the sole reason they're at risk now.

This thought still haunts him when he rejoins the Carrera family. While Nathan was busy, Jamie managed to gather the flock outside, backs turned towards Nathan and the Doctor as they look out over the Giudecca Canal. From the sound of it, she's been in the process of making Gino explain the purpose behind the colourfully painted poles sticking out of the water in so many Venetian canals, pointing out an especially pretty example. She breaks her story off abruptly when she notices Nathan has returned.

"Nate!" She hands him his ice cream back. "It, uh, it's kind of been melting. Stella offered to buy you a new one if you'd like."

"No, it's... I'll just have what's left of this." Nathan has had enough of ice cream for the night, and Jamie's looking so damn relieved he's back in one piece, regarding him like she'd hug him tight as she did on Poveglia had they simply been here by themselves, and he definitely doesn't deserve that. Not knowing what he knows now.

"Jamie had a really wonderful idea," Linda informs him. She truly is in a good mood if she's handing out compliments without dagger jabs to accompany them. "The spread of tables is rather disappointing, so maybe we could eat what's left of our ice cream on the walk back to our hotel. We could take a little detour and enjoy a little more of the city at this hour. Are we all in favour?"

For once, everyone is; the prospect of Venice by night enraptures all. "I thought it was best not to linger," Jamie whispers to Nathan once they've gotten moving. "And that taking a detour would allow us to lose it should it follow. I'd rather not have it find out where we're staying."

The last of Nathan's half-melted ice cream feels and tastes like cement in his mouth.

"So... About that."