In the mean time
Jan. 10th, 2008 06:49 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
maderrI was tweaking my DwtD Necromancer story not too long ago, though I am far from finished with the whole of it. Someone emailed, asking though, and I figured I could at least post what I've rewritten (and properly tag it this time, sorry, I hate tagging the unfinished bits).
Unbeta'ed, and will stay that way until I'm done writing it and send it to my betas. So apologies for any glaring errors.
The knock at the door jerked him out of sleep – and, unfortunately, back far enough that he unbalanced his rickety chair, tumbling him painfully to the floor.
Grunting, he picked himself up and glanced toward the digital clock on the bookcase nearest his desk.
Two in the morning.
So he'd fallen asleep working again. Hopefully he hadn't ruined any of his efforts by sleeping or drooling on them. A brief glance at the desk as he picked himself up seemed to show everything was okay.
His body was tight and achy with a need for sustenance, but he stubbornly ignored it. He could go a day more, a day and a half if he pushed it, without eating. As long as he kept to book work and avoided more hands on stuff. It wouldn't be pleasant, of course…but starving was better than the humiliation that came with obtaining his meals.
He shoved his hair out of his face, wondering when in the hell he'd lost the rubber band holding it back. He'd been asleep, how did it go missing? The mystery was solved as he turned and saw it lying broken on the floor behind his chair. Probably it had happened when he fell. Duh.
Ugh. Why was he awake?
Another knock at the door reminded him, and he heaved a long sigh, wondering what in the world anyone could possibly want at this hour. It wasn't like he lived anywhere close to abnormals. No, his neighborhood was all normals. For any other vampire, it was like living amidst a buffet.
He strode through his workroom to the hallway – then froze. "Just one minute!" he called out, then turned and strode instead to his bedroom. Stripping off his ratty old tank top, he pulled on a clean undershirt, then a faded blue t-shirt, trying hard not to think about the way a certain bastard ex had once said it complimented his eyes.
Oh. Maybe the knock at the door… He hadn't seen so much as a hair of Edmund since the bastard departed, but anything was possible, right?
Quickly he changed into a clean pair of jeans, then pulled on socks and raked his hand through his hair, wishing he had time to find a new rubber band because that'd make it look less messy. He doubted there was anyone at the door he wanted to see, but oh what if…
Walking quickly back down the hall, he threw the locks and yanked the door open – and struggled to hide the disappointment that made his chest ache. Well, stupid him for thinking Edmond might have actually come to his senses…
He focused instead on his curiosity and confusion. "Can I help you?" he asked, wondering what in the hell a noble and an imp were doing on his door. The imp was mature, and free of binding spells. Fascinating. Mismatched eyes, he bet that only added to the imp's power.
"Sorry to disturb you at this hour," the vampire said, tucking back a strand of his long, long black hair. "My name is Zach, this is Doug. We're with the White Detective Agency. Are you the Necromancer Phoenix Fairchild?"
White Detective Agency? He'd heard of that somewhere. Oh, now he remembered. It was tied to the demon lord two territories over. They'd once solved a case for the DeLovely family…oh! "You're the Alucard Zachariah DeLovely, aren't you? And yes, I'm Phoenix. What did you want?"
"That would be me," Zach said with a smile. "Though I am no longer an Alucard. I surrendered the title. We require your assistance with a case, if you would not mind offering it. You'll be generously compensated for your time, of course."
He could see the curiosity in their eyes – after all, there was no such thing as an ugly vampire, was there? At least they weren't gawking like most idiots did, or pretending not to see him, as vampires usually did. Then again, they apparently needed his help.
Stepping back, he beckoned them inside. "Why on earth do you need my help?" Closing and locking the door, he turned and led the way into his living room, snapping his fingers absently to turn on lights and start a fire. Motioning them to the couch, he took one of the chairs on the opposite side of the coffee table. "I cannot see of what use I'd be to a noble and a mature imp.
Zach laughed. "I dabble in magic, like most vampires. Doug is powerful, certainly, but vampire magic is something else entirely. We were recently hired to investigate a series of vampire murders – tenants, in a territory along the west coast."
"I still don’t see why you need me."
"As I said, I know very little about vampire magic, despite my age. Disgraceful, I'm sure, but magic was never of great interest to me – and I sense even if I did know more, this would be beyond me. Sable Brennus himself confessed little knowledge of the intricacies of vampire magic lore." He reached into the pocket of his black wool coat and extracted something – a piece of paper, Phoenix realized.
He took it when Zach held it out, and gasped as he got a good look at it.
"We found it at the sight of one of the murders," Zach said quietly. "We don't think it belonged to the victim, but are not certain. As I said, even Sable Brennus could not say much about it."
Phoenix snorted, speaking absently as he looked the little scrap of paper over. "Of course he wouldn't. Most vampires know nothing about their own magic. The majority of it was lost during the earliest witch hunts, when vampires were nearly wiped out. Those who survived opted to purposely forget the vast majority of the magic that they felt helped bring about the mass slaughter of our race. Of course a demon lord would know nothing about it, especially one who is only what, roughly five hundred years old? Offhand, I can think of only two demon lords old enough to remember the days when vampires had magic."
Soft laughter jerked him from his thoughts, and he flushed as he looked up. "I meant no disrespect."
"None was construed," Doug said, speaking for the first time. "Sable himself said that if we could not locate a necromancer who might assist us, then we should speak with those very demon lords you mentioned. We much prefer your assistance."
Phoenix shrugged. "Not sure what help I can offer. I recognize two of these symbols, and can make a very good guess at the third – but they're general starting sigils, used to begin each stage of a spell. What spell is impossible to say; there are hundreds of possibilities." He frowned at the paper. It had obviously been ripped from a spell book, likely the personal journal of whoever had cast the spell, to judge by the paper. Strange, he wondered how and why it had been ripped out. By the victim of the spell? The caster when the spell had gone awry? "What do you know about the murders?"
"They were drained of blood," Zach said flatly. "The oddest thing I've ever seen. Humans empty of blood would be bad, but not strange. But vampires?" He shook his head. "That's a new one on me."
A cold chill ran down his spine. "Drained of blood?" he echoed, brow furrowing as he contemplated the sigils on the scrap of paper. He set it down and stood up, vanishing through the door behind the couch. "Wait here one moment."
He ran his fingers along the books in his study, murmuring soft words of release, finally pulling out one book. It had taken him three years to copy what remained of the original text, and the better part of a hundred years to fill in the missing pieces. Even now, he was never certain he had accurately filled in those gaps. Necromancy involved far too much guess work, but there was no help for it.
Opening the book, he swiftly turned pages until he landed upon the one he wanted. Absently reactivating the protective spells, he returned to the living room. Moving around the couch, he flipped the book and held it out. "Three lines match up with this scrap you've given me, which may or may not mean anything. Still, this spell requires the blood of vampires – but not just any vampires. I should also warn you that this is one of the spells I had to recreate…it may or may not be accurate."
"Incredible," Doug breathed, his mismatched eyes glowing as he looked up at Phoenix. "I've never known anything about necromancy. Not in a million years would I have actually though to see a necromancer's spell book."
Phoenix shrugged. "Necromancy is of little interest to anyone but vampires, and even they do not really care."
"There are only fifty registered necromancers in the world," Zach said, not looking up from the book, his fingers touching the pages almost reverently. "Two live here in the United States, and I'm told the second one is something of a hermit. If you had refused us, we would have been forced to consult with a demon lord or go abroad for other necromancers."
"Probably," Phoenix agreed. "I exchange letters with Ceadda fairly regularly, but I haven't seen him for at least fifty years. He's more reclusive than even necromancers in general tend to be." Mostly because, unlike Phoenix, he'd given up trying to be understood. Vampires respected the past, and clung tightly to their traditions – but they had long ago made the choice to give up the greater part of their magic for the sake of survival. So precious few tolerated vampires who thought it better that necromancy was not forgotten entirely.
Forgetting necromancy was stupid, Phoenix firmly believed that. There were dangers, certainly, but those could be overcome. It wasn't the magic that had caused so much trouble – it was the poor way it had been regulated and controlled. If handled properly…
Unfortunately, the opinion of a meager fifty eccentric vampires didn't count for a single thing against their thousands of brethren.
Still, it looked like his eccentricity might be rather vital now, didn't it? He tried to quell the selfish part of him that was glad of a chance to prove the importance of understanding this long forgotten aspect of vampire lore, because the fact was that vampires were dead.
Quite possibly their deaths were leading to something terrible.
"So what is this?" Zach continued, tapping the pages Phoenix had indicated.
Phoenix sat back down in his chair, stifling a yawn. A brief glance at the mantle clock showed it was now three in the morning.
"Once upon a time, there were three grades of magic in vampirism," Phoenix said, warming to his subject despite himself. "Four, really, if you include apprentices, but traditionally it was not counted. The first grade is 'Revenant' and it might interest you to know that even the newest Revenant is significantly more magically capable than all existing vampires. By the old standards you would barely be an apprentice."
Zach laughed. "I believe it."
Phoenix continued, "The second grade is Necromancer. Today, as you well know, it's simply the term used to describe those of us who study the lost lore of vampire magic." No point in admitting he was a necromancer by old world standards as well as new. "The third and final grade of magic is Nosferatu. Even back when magic was common, Nosferatu were rare. It's a dangerously high level of magical power. Higher in ability than a mature imp or a full fledged alchemist, but nothing like a demon lord or kitsune, since vampires simply do not need magic the same way those races do…but close enough not to be sneered at by those races."
"So why is Nosferatu so difficult to achieve?" Zach asked, curiosity filling his face.
"It's demanding," Phoenix said quietly. "The average vampire needs to feed only once every two to three days. Younger vampires need to feed once a day, older ones perhaps once a week. Magic users need to feed as often as a young vampire, and more often if they use a great deal of magic. A true necromancer might be required to feed twice a day, and as much as up to four times a day, depending on the spell work."
Zach whistled. "I see. A Nosferatu?"
"Let's just say there were very good reasons vampires were hunted so voraciously during the witch hunts," Phoenix said. "Also good reason the survivors decided to abandon magic altogether. Forgetting it, however, is equally stupid – but I won't rant to you."
Doug nodded, obviously pondering all that Phoenix had said. "So what does this have to do with the dead vampires?"
Phoenix made a face. "The answer is fairly obvious, once you stop and think about it. The stronger the blood, the longer it lasts and the better the spells will be. The blood of an abnormal human is stronger than the blood of a normal. An abnormal human who can use magic…better blood still. Vampires need human blood to live…"
Zach hissed, eyes flashing with dismay. "So human blood processed by a vampire's body would be stronger still." His face twisted in disgust. "He's feeding on his brethren. That's vile."
"Exactly," Phoenix said quietly. "I could be mistaken, but right now it would seem a necromancer, registered or no, is trying to become a Nosferatu – or at least trying to cast an incredibly complicated spell. How many are dead?"
"Five so far," Zach said. "We were brought in a few days after the fourth victim turned up, and two days ago there was a fifth."
Phoenix nodded and voiced a question which had been nagging at him. "How do you know I'm not the culprit?"
Doug grinned. "Oh, we checked you out thoroughly. Anything is possible, but we all concluded that you were unlikely to be behind these murders."
"I'm perfectly content being a necromancer," Phoenix said. A lonely, ugly, eccentric necromancer.
Zach nodded. "Would you mind lending us your expertise? Hopefully only a day or two – we really would like your help, and perhaps visiting the murder sights would reveal something to you that we missed?"
Phoenix hesitated. He lived as a peasant, in lands unclaimed by any abnormal, amongst normals, because as obnoxious as humans could be they tended to be kinder about his appearance than his fellow vampires.
It hurt sometimes (all the time) to catch glimpses of vampires, peasants happily traveling the world or tenants living in perfect contentment on the territory of a Dracula. Zach was the fist noble he'd seen in at least a hundred years, and he rather thought it was closer to a hundred fifty.
Only three hundred and fifty years old himself…rejected for his eccentricity for most of that…and his ugliness for nearly as long.
He could live to be a thousand and still he would never forget that day. They'd been friends…lovers…and Boris had not listened, the bastard. Too caught up in stupid, petty emotions Phoenix had time and again assured him he had no reason to feel. Boris, however, was Boris.
The spell had gone wrong – horribly wrong – and Phoenix had woken up to find himself bleeding and broken, ruined as a proper vampire…and his lover gone. No explanation, no apology, no goodbye.
"I'd be more than happy to assist," he finally said. "I don't know that there's anything I can actually do, but I'm willing to try. At the very least it will broaden my knowledge of necromancy."
Zach smiled. "Excellent. Then how about you simply join us tomorrow…uh, later today, rather? Here's the address, and a focus sigil so you can teleport there. Say just after sundown?"
Phoenix didn't bother to tell him he didn't require the focus sigil, accepting the slip of paper with a brief smile and thanks. He showed them out a moment later, and his smile withered as he once more locked the door.
Damn it.
If he was going to help them, he would have to feed. Zach had probably noticed he was half-starved, but thankfully was too polite to ask about.
Even after all this time, it never grew less humiliating.
He wanted to be like his brethren, beautifully devastating. Just once he wanted to see eyes filled with desire, not glazed by enchantment. If not for his necromancy, he'd have a hard time feeding peacefully.
Resigned, because no matter what he had to make a good impression – not only would he be working with a DeLovely, Zach and Doug had been hired by another noble. The good it would do, for a necromancer to make a favorable impression upon nobles…
Then again, he was likely going to reveal a highly unethical necromancer.
He pulled open the front closet and retrieved his denim jacket, then grabbed his keys from the hallway table. Locking the door behind him, he hit the streets and went to find a human to enchant and feed upon, shoving back the pain of knowing his face and smiles would always repel, and never attract.
*~*~*
Phoenix gulped as he took in the house. It was magnificent, like something out a book, utterly fitting for the Dracula Derrick and his family. The sort of his house he had no business approaching, especially as he was a peasant rather than a proper tenant.
Except what sort of Dracula would want to have an ugly necromancer under his care?
Shoving the unhappy thoughts aside, because he had more than enough to worry about at the moment – like if the door would get shut in his face – he resettled the duffle bag on his shoulder (because he doubted anyone would let him stay in the house, but going home was a waste of magic, and he doubted the case would be solved in a day which meant a hotel somewhere…) and approached the door.
He knocked as firmly as he could on the door and waited.
A moment later it swung open, and he strived to pretend he hadn't noticed the way the vampire who answered recoiled in shocked – even horrified – dismay.
For a second it really did seem like the door was going to get slammed in his face, but at the last the vampire simply stilled and his nose went up the slightest bit, eyes cool even as they no longer looked quite at him. "Are you the…necromancer…sir?"
"Yes," Phoenix said tightly, resisting an urge to mess with his hair. He'd left it down because it seemed to make the scars not as bad, at least in his own head, but it was just as bad in its own way so he wondered if maybe he hadn't really just compounded the whole mess and why had he even agreed to this?
He really wished Zach would show up, because at least Zach had manners and knew how to use them, or so it had seemed several hours ago.
"This way," the vampire said stiffly, and miserably Phoenix followed him. He gripped the strap of his bag tightly, and allowed himself a few seconds to indulge in thoughts of all the things he could do to the pompous butler.
Except it wasn't really fair, because Phoenix was the freak. A vampire without beauty was like a bird without feathers. Of course the other birds would hold him in contempt and ridicule.
He was shown into a pretty sitting room of warm red, orange, and yellow, set aglow by carefully arranged lamps of brilliant colored glass. "I will inform Master Korbin of your arrival," the vampire intoned.
Phoenix sighed and shifted his bag to the other shoulder. Zach had asked for his help…but it certainly seemed like Zach was the only one who wanted it. He wondered if 'Master Korbin' would ask him to leave or just throw him out.
Restless he fussed with his bag, then moved closer to the large window, pushing back the sheer curtains to get a better view. The ocean – he'd always lived inland, the most he'd ever seen were some lakes and rivers and stuff. Not this. Definitely wow, even in the dark.
The sound of the door opening made him seize up, and for a moment he gave serious consideration to just going home right that instant. He never left his house if he could help it for very good reasons.
Turn he did though – and instantly regretted it.
"You are the necromancer Zach hired to assist with solving the murders?" the vampire asked, his voice warm and pleasant, and Phoenix felt something in his chest go tight.
"Yes," he said, forcing the word out, unable to manage more.
As if he hadn't already felt ugly and pathetic. This wasn't a noble, he didn't have the right vibe…but he was no mere tenant. Gods that didn't exist, he was stunning. Honey blonde hair cut short, blue-green eyes that stood out so brilliantly against his fair skin. He was dressed in a dark suit but the blazer was absent, leaving him in just a crisp white shirt and a dark green vest, both set off nicely against black slacks. The tie matched the vest, and a small gold tie pin gleamed in the lamplight.
Phoenix barely resisted the urge to run away. He was grateful no one had put up mirrors in the hall way, he might have started crying at that point, to see his own reflection while this vampire stood before him.
His own hair had once been a beautiful shade of auburn. Now it was a mish mash of auburn, gray, and white. It resembled a calico cat on a good day…and some horrid disease on most. The spell his former lover had tried to cast had gone horribly awry, and Phoenix had taken the brunt of it. Possibly all of it, though he wasn't sure because he hadn't seen Boris since. Something about the spell gone wrong had ruined his hair, and the objects in the room at the time had turned to shrapnel that had wound up shredding his face. He tended to think it looked like the calico cat on his head had raked his face several times before settling down.
His body was just as stained and cut as the rest of him, all because Boris had been angry and jealous and careless…
A thousand spells later, Phoenix had given up trying to ever cure the ugliness inflicted by the magic he loved and the carelessness of a lover who'd handled the matter by running away.
He'd thought Edmond, who'd claimed not to care how he looked, would be different…but it all came down to magic in the end. Vampires rejected him for knowing it, Boris hated him for being better, Edmund hated him for not using it to do every little thing.
The unhappy thoughts broke off as he realized the handsome vampire was holding out his hand. Hesitantly Phoenix took it, shaking hands, startled that this vampire would be so polite – and met his gaze without flinching or grimacing.
First Zach and now this one. It was almost enough to give him hope, if he hadn't given up on that a long time ago.
"My name is Korbin Delaney, I'm personal assistant to Dracula Derrick. He has appointed me to assist you and the detectives however I may."
Phoenix frowned, disconcerted. "Where are Zach and Doug?"
"They asked me extend their apologies," Korbin replied. "Something else came up in the investigation and they wanted to see where it led. In the meantime, I thought perhaps I could fill you in on those details you may not already know?"
He had to be alone with the handsome vampire?
Strange, Zach hadn't really affected him at all and technically speaking the hire the rank of the vampire the greater his beauty. Zach was beautiful from head to toe…yet Phoenix hadn't cared beyond his usual sour misery.
Ugh. He didn't need this.
"Sure," he finally said.
Korbin smiled, and didn't look like the expression was killing him, and his eyes really were pretty—damn it. He did not need a pathetic case of lust right now. "Why don't we get you settled first? That bag looks heavy. I'm certain I'd be sick of lugging it around. This way."
"Settled?" Phoenix echoed, feeling stupid.
"Unless the case is solved today, which as much as I wish I sincerely doubt, you will need a place to stay. We've rooms of plenty, of course."
Phoenix frowned. "But—" He was ugly. And a necromancer.
Korbin smiled again. "This way," he repeated.
Bemused, Phoenix followed him through hallways and up stairs and through more hallways until they at last reached a room into which he could likely fit his entire house. It was a beautiful room, though, not least of all the skylights in the ceiling. Moonlight shown down on dark carpeting, until it was abruptly dispersed by the lights Korbin flicked on. Then he saw everything was black, green, and blue.
"Uh…" Nope, couldn't do it. He was officially overloaded. He stood in the doorway feeling numb – or perhaps just dumb.
He was startled into movement as his duffel was taken from his shoulder. "Um—I can—"
"My, this is heavy," Korbin commented lightly, moving to a massive bed and depositing the bag on it. "Did you bring a library with you?"
"Almost," Phoenix muttered, slinking guiltily to his bag and yanking the zipper open, pulling out the books inside, muttering softly as he checked all the spells were still in place and the more delicate ones had survived the journey.
He looked around the room, searching…ah. That table would do nicely. Crossing the room, he deposited the books he held upon a small but sturdy table set beneath the window that displayed the dark sea beyond. If he hadn't gotten entirely turned around in this massive house, he was close to if not directly above the sitting room he'd been in just minutes ago.
Setting the books down, he went back for more, studiously ignoring Korbin. Likely he'd get bored or fed up and make his excuses and leave soon anyway. Retrieving more books, he carried them to the table, making one last trip before all twenty of the volumes he'd brought along were stacked in neat, orderly fashion on the table.
Looking at them all, he felt somewhat stupid. The chances he would need any of them were slim…but they were not yet certain what they were up against, beyond a vampire who was killing other vampires, possibly for the purposes of necromancy.
Circumstantial evidence, all of it – he wasn't even certain how they knew a vampire was doing the killings, other than a scrap of paper with necromantic writings that could have been…but that wasn't his problem. The detectives believed it was a necromancer, and until it was proven otherwise Phoenix would go with that.
"Incredible," Korbin said from just behind him.
Phoenix started.
If Korbin noticed, he gave no indication. "I admit I'm rather fascinated to meet a real necromancer. There are not many of you, and the rumors that abound have always seemed a tad exaggerated." He smiled. "Zach said you confirmed that it very well could be a necromancer behind all these killings?"
"Yes," Phoenix replied, and explained briefly what he had already told Zach and Doug.
"Amazing," Korbin said when he'd finished. "I wish the circumstances were happier, for I like this chance to learn something about necromancy. You would think vampires as a whole would understand it better."
Phoenix shrugged. "It was decided by the Draculas that necromancy was best forgotten."
"Well, if all vampires acted like our killer, I can see why," Korbin replied. "However, you are something else entirely."
Uncertain how to take that comment, Phoenix shrugged again. "So tell me more about the murders."
"I can do you two better. Which would you prefer first? To visit the murder sites or see the bodies?"
"Um," Phoenix said, startled. "You still have the bodies?"
Korbin nodded. "Secured in the basement. We did not want to dispose of them until we knew what we were dealing with, and later when Zach and Doug determined a necromancer might be involved it seemed especially important to hold the bodies for a time."
Phoenix nodded. "They may be useful, but let's start with the locations of the murders?"
"Then follow me," Korbin replied, and vanished.
Phoenix followed. They reappeared in an alleyway that defined the words filthy and disgusting. He wrinkled his nose. "Why would a vampire be caught here? Certainly one would not hunt here…" He frowned in thought and unthinkingly began to mutter, the rest of the world fading out as he put to use the skills he loved enough to make himself a pariah.
Tracing the sigils in the air, muttering them beneath his breath, he looked for the telltale traces of necromancy. Magic of the living races left a warm residue. Vampires cast magic with energy stolen from others. Second hand, converted upon taking in what they needed to live – a cold residue.
He was definitely detecting a cold residue, though only barely, as though the necromancer had attempted to erase all signs of his presence. Certainly he'd erased enough of it; Phoenix could not get enough of it to capture a personal identification.
So the killer was a necromancer of not insignificant skill – but not of great skill either.
Twitching his fingers in an intricate pattern that would look like so much nonsense to spectators, he muttered the sigils that would erase any signs of his own magic. "Definitely a necromancer," he said, and finally looked toward Korbin– who was staring at him. "What?" he asked, tensing.
"That was incredible," Korbin said, moving closer. "You use magic like an imp or a demon, rather than simply finding it occasionally useful like the rest of us."
Phoenix flushed, disconcerted by the utter lack of hostility or mockery, the way Korbin sounded genuinely impressed. "They're basic spells," he said, then cleared his throat when his voice sounded a bit more strained than he liked. "A child could learn them, or anyone else who was inclined. First and second level spells are nothing."
"Still more than I could manage," Korbin said, smiling. "What else can you do, I wonder?"
The look in his eyes was one Phoenix didn't trust for a minute. Edmond had looked at him like that, or seemed to, before Phoenix had figured out he'd just been hoping an adept vampire could make his life easier.
No one wanted him, and certainly this personal assistant to a Dracula wouldn't. A vampire like this had more phone numbers than could fit in one little black book, surely.
"Nothing special," he finally said. "You said there were five murders?"
Confusion flickered briefly through Korbin's eyes, but then it settled into something Phoenix couldn't puzzle out. Then he was abruptly all business again. "The next one took place in the public gardens. Did you want to head that way, or was there more you needed to do here?"
"I'm done here," Phoenix said. They vanished.
He looked around their new location. They were in what seemed to be rather a secluded portion of what Korbin had called the public gardens.
"They were funded by his lordship," Korbin said. "He takes great pride in his territory, and prefers to keep the normals within it as complacent as possible."
Phoenix nodded and cast his spells again, hoping they could conclude today's work before he had to feed again. As much magic as he would likely need to use, however… He shoved the unhappy thought away and focused.
Again he could find no useful traces, only confirmation that he was indeed dealing with a necromancer of respectable skill. He sighed, frustrated. "Have you any suspects in mind?" he asked. "I know it must be difficult, but you are certain no one among you is responsible?"
Korbin spread his hands. "It is, of course, a delicate matter to accuse one vampire of killing others. I half wish the dead individuals were human. At least then the vampires would be less reticent to speak about it. If it is a tenant, then he has done a remarkable job of hiding his magical abilities. Certainly you blaze; I do not know how anyone could hide such power. I've never seen anything like it."
"I blaze?" Phoenix repeated. "You can read my magic?"
"Not terribly well," Korbin replied, "but I can sense the difference between myself, Zach, and you. Much like feeling the difference between a candle and a hearth fire. You stand out." That look flashed in his eyes again, and Phoenix jerked his gaze away, refusing to get caught in a game that would only end in more pain.
He shrugged off the compliment and focused. "An unusual skill, that. Most of us must practice hard to be able to read magical ability half so easily. It sounds like you have the potential to be quite a necromancer yourself."
"Sensing ability and teleporting are about all I can manage," Korbin said with a grin that made him look almost boyish. "Trust me when I say we don't want me trying much else. I'm an excellent assistant, but I can't see being a necromancer. Too busy, anyway."
Phoenix frowned, because he very much begged to differ, but he wasn't going to force the issue. None of his business. This time tomorrow he would likely be buried in his work again.
"Any new ideas as to what's going on?" Korbin asked.
"How far apart are the murders?"
"They've all been about a week apart, give or take a few hours. So far we have found no correlation between the victims, and with their blood drained we cannot even trace if they had meals in common."
Phoenix frowned in thought, running spells through his mind, shaking his head in frustration. "I wish I knew who the vampires had fed upon before they died. I would stake my own store of knowledge that they fed on abnormals, magic users all of them. Transmuted by the vampires upon feeding, it would make for potent blood indeed – potent enough that if the vampire drained his victims completely, the power would last him a week if he was careful with it. Sounds more and more to me like he's trying and failing to become a Nosferatu."
"Nosferatu? Zach explained that to me. You really think that's what he's about?"
"Yes, I do." Phoenix said. "The problem is that he's good, but not good enough. Passing from one grade to another requires the casting of 'upgrade' spells – like taking exams, or the way demons must go through a great deal of trouble to claim their consorts. You can't simply be a Revenant or Necromancer or Nosferatu. It's like a peasant suddenly deciding to be a tenant. Doesn't happen; he must go through the proper channels" Phoenix shrugged. "Short answer – it won't work. He'll keep failing, until he finally manages to kill himself – or we find him."
Korbin nodded. "You're pretty good at this detective stuff."
Phoenix rolled his eyes. "Hardly. I'm only good for necromancy. Shall we try the next sight? Though I think we will gain nothing from them, this necromancer was good enough to wipe his personal mark."
"Let us return to the house, if you think this is not helping. Perhaps examining the bodies will provide some clue." Korbin suggested. At Phoenix's nod, they vanished.
Phoenix wished suddenly he had opted to continue examining the sites. He looked nervously out the window, noting absently how pretty the ocean looked. His sad little house looked out over a garden of weeds he could never muster the energy to take care of – not even magically.
"So, if I might ask, how did you become interested in necromancy?" Korbin asked.
Phoenix abandoned the window, unable to resist the chance to talk about his favorite subject – because unhappy as it made him at times, he loved it. Magic was his everything. "I actually didn't know much about it either, except that I was rather good at it. An old friend of mine was the one obsessed, and I tagged along…" Because he'd been half in love with Boris all his life, it had seemed then. When they'd eventually gotten into sex, he'd thought the feelings mutual.
He'd learned the hard way that Boris cared about himself first and foremost, and magic because it was a way to gain more power for himself. When he'd wound up falling in love with magic, and better at it than Boris…
Sometimes, late at night when he couldn’t sleep and the loneliness got to be too much…he wondered if that damned spell had gone awry accidentally or on purpose. It wasn't a thought he liked to dwell upon.
After that, magic had become his life…until Edmund…which had lasted six months before reality finally forced itself upon him. Still he had hoped that Edmund would come to his senses or something.
But ultimately he knew it wasn't Edmund he missed – just someone.
He shook his head. "I tagged along, and wound up loving it. We parted ways, eventually, and I kept with my magical studies."
"You are a necromancer of some skill? It certainly seems like it. Do you know any other necromancers?"
Phoenix shrugged and wondered when Korbin had moved closer. "We write letters to each other, occasionally speak through spells. So few of us work on preserving necromancy, it would be detrimental to our cause not to keep in touch. But actually met? No. I've never bothered." He preferred to keep his ugliness to himself as much as possible.
"Zach explained what he knew about Nosferatu to me, but I confess I'm still confused on several points. Why would anyone want to be a Nosferatu?"
"A good question," Phoenix said, smiling briefly. "Vampires once did not hide the way they do today. Abnormals in general did not hide from the normals as much as we do today. That only came after the witch burnings, when far more than witches were killed… Once, abnormals fought tenaciously for territory, power… Power was crucial, and magic was power. Once upon a time, all Dracula were Nosferatu. Many of the ruling families today are descended from some of the greatest Nosferatu to ever live. Destroyed, all of them, along with the greater portion of the vampire race…
"Back then, it was much easier to drink as much as they needed to sustain their power. Nor was it unheard of for vampires to feed upon their own kind for still greater power. These days, it would not be practical to cast the upgrade spells to become a Nosferatu. If this vampire wants to reach that level…I wonder what it is he wants to do…"
Korbin drummed his fingers on the windowsill, staring out to watch the ocean. "I cannot imagine. To my mind, it would only cause headaches. Could he be hoping to displace a Dracula?"
"Possibly, but I don't see why anyone would want to. Then again, I'm not a necromancer who would resort to feasting upon my brothers. I'm quite content to spend my time pouring over archaic tomes and my own journals." He shook his head. "We should be examining the bodies, not standing around chatting."
"Of course," Korbin said. "Forgive my curiosity."
Phoenix shrugged. "I don't mind. Murders take precedence, however." He smiled briefly, then dropped his gaze before he got caught up in staring.
"This way, then," Korbin replied. He turned and led the way through the halls, pulling a key out of his jacket.
Unbeta'ed, and will stay that way until I'm done writing it and send it to my betas. So apologies for any glaring errors.
The knock at the door jerked him out of sleep – and, unfortunately, back far enough that he unbalanced his rickety chair, tumbling him painfully to the floor.
Grunting, he picked himself up and glanced toward the digital clock on the bookcase nearest his desk.
Two in the morning.
So he'd fallen asleep working again. Hopefully he hadn't ruined any of his efforts by sleeping or drooling on them. A brief glance at the desk as he picked himself up seemed to show everything was okay.
His body was tight and achy with a need for sustenance, but he stubbornly ignored it. He could go a day more, a day and a half if he pushed it, without eating. As long as he kept to book work and avoided more hands on stuff. It wouldn't be pleasant, of course…but starving was better than the humiliation that came with obtaining his meals.
He shoved his hair out of his face, wondering when in the hell he'd lost the rubber band holding it back. He'd been asleep, how did it go missing? The mystery was solved as he turned and saw it lying broken on the floor behind his chair. Probably it had happened when he fell. Duh.
Ugh. Why was he awake?
Another knock at the door reminded him, and he heaved a long sigh, wondering what in the world anyone could possibly want at this hour. It wasn't like he lived anywhere close to abnormals. No, his neighborhood was all normals. For any other vampire, it was like living amidst a buffet.
He strode through his workroom to the hallway – then froze. "Just one minute!" he called out, then turned and strode instead to his bedroom. Stripping off his ratty old tank top, he pulled on a clean undershirt, then a faded blue t-shirt, trying hard not to think about the way a certain bastard ex had once said it complimented his eyes.
Oh. Maybe the knock at the door… He hadn't seen so much as a hair of Edmund since the bastard departed, but anything was possible, right?
Quickly he changed into a clean pair of jeans, then pulled on socks and raked his hand through his hair, wishing he had time to find a new rubber band because that'd make it look less messy. He doubted there was anyone at the door he wanted to see, but oh what if…
Walking quickly back down the hall, he threw the locks and yanked the door open – and struggled to hide the disappointment that made his chest ache. Well, stupid him for thinking Edmond might have actually come to his senses…
He focused instead on his curiosity and confusion. "Can I help you?" he asked, wondering what in the hell a noble and an imp were doing on his door. The imp was mature, and free of binding spells. Fascinating. Mismatched eyes, he bet that only added to the imp's power.
"Sorry to disturb you at this hour," the vampire said, tucking back a strand of his long, long black hair. "My name is Zach, this is Doug. We're with the White Detective Agency. Are you the Necromancer Phoenix Fairchild?"
White Detective Agency? He'd heard of that somewhere. Oh, now he remembered. It was tied to the demon lord two territories over. They'd once solved a case for the DeLovely family…oh! "You're the Alucard Zachariah DeLovely, aren't you? And yes, I'm Phoenix. What did you want?"
"That would be me," Zach said with a smile. "Though I am no longer an Alucard. I surrendered the title. We require your assistance with a case, if you would not mind offering it. You'll be generously compensated for your time, of course."
He could see the curiosity in their eyes – after all, there was no such thing as an ugly vampire, was there? At least they weren't gawking like most idiots did, or pretending not to see him, as vampires usually did. Then again, they apparently needed his help.
Stepping back, he beckoned them inside. "Why on earth do you need my help?" Closing and locking the door, he turned and led the way into his living room, snapping his fingers absently to turn on lights and start a fire. Motioning them to the couch, he took one of the chairs on the opposite side of the coffee table. "I cannot see of what use I'd be to a noble and a mature imp.
Zach laughed. "I dabble in magic, like most vampires. Doug is powerful, certainly, but vampire magic is something else entirely. We were recently hired to investigate a series of vampire murders – tenants, in a territory along the west coast."
"I still don’t see why you need me."
"As I said, I know very little about vampire magic, despite my age. Disgraceful, I'm sure, but magic was never of great interest to me – and I sense even if I did know more, this would be beyond me. Sable Brennus himself confessed little knowledge of the intricacies of vampire magic lore." He reached into the pocket of his black wool coat and extracted something – a piece of paper, Phoenix realized.
He took it when Zach held it out, and gasped as he got a good look at it.
"We found it at the sight of one of the murders," Zach said quietly. "We don't think it belonged to the victim, but are not certain. As I said, even Sable Brennus could not say much about it."
Phoenix snorted, speaking absently as he looked the little scrap of paper over. "Of course he wouldn't. Most vampires know nothing about their own magic. The majority of it was lost during the earliest witch hunts, when vampires were nearly wiped out. Those who survived opted to purposely forget the vast majority of the magic that they felt helped bring about the mass slaughter of our race. Of course a demon lord would know nothing about it, especially one who is only what, roughly five hundred years old? Offhand, I can think of only two demon lords old enough to remember the days when vampires had magic."
Soft laughter jerked him from his thoughts, and he flushed as he looked up. "I meant no disrespect."
"None was construed," Doug said, speaking for the first time. "Sable himself said that if we could not locate a necromancer who might assist us, then we should speak with those very demon lords you mentioned. We much prefer your assistance."
Phoenix shrugged. "Not sure what help I can offer. I recognize two of these symbols, and can make a very good guess at the third – but they're general starting sigils, used to begin each stage of a spell. What spell is impossible to say; there are hundreds of possibilities." He frowned at the paper. It had obviously been ripped from a spell book, likely the personal journal of whoever had cast the spell, to judge by the paper. Strange, he wondered how and why it had been ripped out. By the victim of the spell? The caster when the spell had gone awry? "What do you know about the murders?"
"They were drained of blood," Zach said flatly. "The oddest thing I've ever seen. Humans empty of blood would be bad, but not strange. But vampires?" He shook his head. "That's a new one on me."
A cold chill ran down his spine. "Drained of blood?" he echoed, brow furrowing as he contemplated the sigils on the scrap of paper. He set it down and stood up, vanishing through the door behind the couch. "Wait here one moment."
He ran his fingers along the books in his study, murmuring soft words of release, finally pulling out one book. It had taken him three years to copy what remained of the original text, and the better part of a hundred years to fill in the missing pieces. Even now, he was never certain he had accurately filled in those gaps. Necromancy involved far too much guess work, but there was no help for it.
Opening the book, he swiftly turned pages until he landed upon the one he wanted. Absently reactivating the protective spells, he returned to the living room. Moving around the couch, he flipped the book and held it out. "Three lines match up with this scrap you've given me, which may or may not mean anything. Still, this spell requires the blood of vampires – but not just any vampires. I should also warn you that this is one of the spells I had to recreate…it may or may not be accurate."
"Incredible," Doug breathed, his mismatched eyes glowing as he looked up at Phoenix. "I've never known anything about necromancy. Not in a million years would I have actually though to see a necromancer's spell book."
Phoenix shrugged. "Necromancy is of little interest to anyone but vampires, and even they do not really care."
"There are only fifty registered necromancers in the world," Zach said, not looking up from the book, his fingers touching the pages almost reverently. "Two live here in the United States, and I'm told the second one is something of a hermit. If you had refused us, we would have been forced to consult with a demon lord or go abroad for other necromancers."
"Probably," Phoenix agreed. "I exchange letters with Ceadda fairly regularly, but I haven't seen him for at least fifty years. He's more reclusive than even necromancers in general tend to be." Mostly because, unlike Phoenix, he'd given up trying to be understood. Vampires respected the past, and clung tightly to their traditions – but they had long ago made the choice to give up the greater part of their magic for the sake of survival. So precious few tolerated vampires who thought it better that necromancy was not forgotten entirely.
Forgetting necromancy was stupid, Phoenix firmly believed that. There were dangers, certainly, but those could be overcome. It wasn't the magic that had caused so much trouble – it was the poor way it had been regulated and controlled. If handled properly…
Unfortunately, the opinion of a meager fifty eccentric vampires didn't count for a single thing against their thousands of brethren.
Still, it looked like his eccentricity might be rather vital now, didn't it? He tried to quell the selfish part of him that was glad of a chance to prove the importance of understanding this long forgotten aspect of vampire lore, because the fact was that vampires were dead.
Quite possibly their deaths were leading to something terrible.
"So what is this?" Zach continued, tapping the pages Phoenix had indicated.
Phoenix sat back down in his chair, stifling a yawn. A brief glance at the mantle clock showed it was now three in the morning.
"Once upon a time, there were three grades of magic in vampirism," Phoenix said, warming to his subject despite himself. "Four, really, if you include apprentices, but traditionally it was not counted. The first grade is 'Revenant' and it might interest you to know that even the newest Revenant is significantly more magically capable than all existing vampires. By the old standards you would barely be an apprentice."
Zach laughed. "I believe it."
Phoenix continued, "The second grade is Necromancer. Today, as you well know, it's simply the term used to describe those of us who study the lost lore of vampire magic." No point in admitting he was a necromancer by old world standards as well as new. "The third and final grade of magic is Nosferatu. Even back when magic was common, Nosferatu were rare. It's a dangerously high level of magical power. Higher in ability than a mature imp or a full fledged alchemist, but nothing like a demon lord or kitsune, since vampires simply do not need magic the same way those races do…but close enough not to be sneered at by those races."
"So why is Nosferatu so difficult to achieve?" Zach asked, curiosity filling his face.
"It's demanding," Phoenix said quietly. "The average vampire needs to feed only once every two to three days. Younger vampires need to feed once a day, older ones perhaps once a week. Magic users need to feed as often as a young vampire, and more often if they use a great deal of magic. A true necromancer might be required to feed twice a day, and as much as up to four times a day, depending on the spell work."
Zach whistled. "I see. A Nosferatu?"
"Let's just say there were very good reasons vampires were hunted so voraciously during the witch hunts," Phoenix said. "Also good reason the survivors decided to abandon magic altogether. Forgetting it, however, is equally stupid – but I won't rant to you."
Doug nodded, obviously pondering all that Phoenix had said. "So what does this have to do with the dead vampires?"
Phoenix made a face. "The answer is fairly obvious, once you stop and think about it. The stronger the blood, the longer it lasts and the better the spells will be. The blood of an abnormal human is stronger than the blood of a normal. An abnormal human who can use magic…better blood still. Vampires need human blood to live…"
Zach hissed, eyes flashing with dismay. "So human blood processed by a vampire's body would be stronger still." His face twisted in disgust. "He's feeding on his brethren. That's vile."
"Exactly," Phoenix said quietly. "I could be mistaken, but right now it would seem a necromancer, registered or no, is trying to become a Nosferatu – or at least trying to cast an incredibly complicated spell. How many are dead?"
"Five so far," Zach said. "We were brought in a few days after the fourth victim turned up, and two days ago there was a fifth."
Phoenix nodded and voiced a question which had been nagging at him. "How do you know I'm not the culprit?"
Doug grinned. "Oh, we checked you out thoroughly. Anything is possible, but we all concluded that you were unlikely to be behind these murders."
"I'm perfectly content being a necromancer," Phoenix said. A lonely, ugly, eccentric necromancer.
Zach nodded. "Would you mind lending us your expertise? Hopefully only a day or two – we really would like your help, and perhaps visiting the murder sights would reveal something to you that we missed?"
Phoenix hesitated. He lived as a peasant, in lands unclaimed by any abnormal, amongst normals, because as obnoxious as humans could be they tended to be kinder about his appearance than his fellow vampires.
It hurt sometimes (all the time) to catch glimpses of vampires, peasants happily traveling the world or tenants living in perfect contentment on the territory of a Dracula. Zach was the fist noble he'd seen in at least a hundred years, and he rather thought it was closer to a hundred fifty.
Only three hundred and fifty years old himself…rejected for his eccentricity for most of that…and his ugliness for nearly as long.
He could live to be a thousand and still he would never forget that day. They'd been friends…lovers…and Boris had not listened, the bastard. Too caught up in stupid, petty emotions Phoenix had time and again assured him he had no reason to feel. Boris, however, was Boris.
The spell had gone wrong – horribly wrong – and Phoenix had woken up to find himself bleeding and broken, ruined as a proper vampire…and his lover gone. No explanation, no apology, no goodbye.
"I'd be more than happy to assist," he finally said. "I don't know that there's anything I can actually do, but I'm willing to try. At the very least it will broaden my knowledge of necromancy."
Zach smiled. "Excellent. Then how about you simply join us tomorrow…uh, later today, rather? Here's the address, and a focus sigil so you can teleport there. Say just after sundown?"
Phoenix didn't bother to tell him he didn't require the focus sigil, accepting the slip of paper with a brief smile and thanks. He showed them out a moment later, and his smile withered as he once more locked the door.
Damn it.
If he was going to help them, he would have to feed. Zach had probably noticed he was half-starved, but thankfully was too polite to ask about.
Even after all this time, it never grew less humiliating.
He wanted to be like his brethren, beautifully devastating. Just once he wanted to see eyes filled with desire, not glazed by enchantment. If not for his necromancy, he'd have a hard time feeding peacefully.
Resigned, because no matter what he had to make a good impression – not only would he be working with a DeLovely, Zach and Doug had been hired by another noble. The good it would do, for a necromancer to make a favorable impression upon nobles…
Then again, he was likely going to reveal a highly unethical necromancer.
He pulled open the front closet and retrieved his denim jacket, then grabbed his keys from the hallway table. Locking the door behind him, he hit the streets and went to find a human to enchant and feed upon, shoving back the pain of knowing his face and smiles would always repel, and never attract.
*~*~*
Phoenix gulped as he took in the house. It was magnificent, like something out a book, utterly fitting for the Dracula Derrick and his family. The sort of his house he had no business approaching, especially as he was a peasant rather than a proper tenant.
Except what sort of Dracula would want to have an ugly necromancer under his care?
Shoving the unhappy thoughts aside, because he had more than enough to worry about at the moment – like if the door would get shut in his face – he resettled the duffle bag on his shoulder (because he doubted anyone would let him stay in the house, but going home was a waste of magic, and he doubted the case would be solved in a day which meant a hotel somewhere…) and approached the door.
He knocked as firmly as he could on the door and waited.
A moment later it swung open, and he strived to pretend he hadn't noticed the way the vampire who answered recoiled in shocked – even horrified – dismay.
For a second it really did seem like the door was going to get slammed in his face, but at the last the vampire simply stilled and his nose went up the slightest bit, eyes cool even as they no longer looked quite at him. "Are you the…necromancer…sir?"
"Yes," Phoenix said tightly, resisting an urge to mess with his hair. He'd left it down because it seemed to make the scars not as bad, at least in his own head, but it was just as bad in its own way so he wondered if maybe he hadn't really just compounded the whole mess and why had he even agreed to this?
He really wished Zach would show up, because at least Zach had manners and knew how to use them, or so it had seemed several hours ago.
"This way," the vampire said stiffly, and miserably Phoenix followed him. He gripped the strap of his bag tightly, and allowed himself a few seconds to indulge in thoughts of all the things he could do to the pompous butler.
Except it wasn't really fair, because Phoenix was the freak. A vampire without beauty was like a bird without feathers. Of course the other birds would hold him in contempt and ridicule.
He was shown into a pretty sitting room of warm red, orange, and yellow, set aglow by carefully arranged lamps of brilliant colored glass. "I will inform Master Korbin of your arrival," the vampire intoned.
Phoenix sighed and shifted his bag to the other shoulder. Zach had asked for his help…but it certainly seemed like Zach was the only one who wanted it. He wondered if 'Master Korbin' would ask him to leave or just throw him out.
Restless he fussed with his bag, then moved closer to the large window, pushing back the sheer curtains to get a better view. The ocean – he'd always lived inland, the most he'd ever seen were some lakes and rivers and stuff. Not this. Definitely wow, even in the dark.
The sound of the door opening made him seize up, and for a moment he gave serious consideration to just going home right that instant. He never left his house if he could help it for very good reasons.
Turn he did though – and instantly regretted it.
"You are the necromancer Zach hired to assist with solving the murders?" the vampire asked, his voice warm and pleasant, and Phoenix felt something in his chest go tight.
"Yes," he said, forcing the word out, unable to manage more.
As if he hadn't already felt ugly and pathetic. This wasn't a noble, he didn't have the right vibe…but he was no mere tenant. Gods that didn't exist, he was stunning. Honey blonde hair cut short, blue-green eyes that stood out so brilliantly against his fair skin. He was dressed in a dark suit but the blazer was absent, leaving him in just a crisp white shirt and a dark green vest, both set off nicely against black slacks. The tie matched the vest, and a small gold tie pin gleamed in the lamplight.
Phoenix barely resisted the urge to run away. He was grateful no one had put up mirrors in the hall way, he might have started crying at that point, to see his own reflection while this vampire stood before him.
His own hair had once been a beautiful shade of auburn. Now it was a mish mash of auburn, gray, and white. It resembled a calico cat on a good day…and some horrid disease on most. The spell his former lover had tried to cast had gone horribly awry, and Phoenix had taken the brunt of it. Possibly all of it, though he wasn't sure because he hadn't seen Boris since. Something about the spell gone wrong had ruined his hair, and the objects in the room at the time had turned to shrapnel that had wound up shredding his face. He tended to think it looked like the calico cat on his head had raked his face several times before settling down.
His body was just as stained and cut as the rest of him, all because Boris had been angry and jealous and careless…
A thousand spells later, Phoenix had given up trying to ever cure the ugliness inflicted by the magic he loved and the carelessness of a lover who'd handled the matter by running away.
He'd thought Edmond, who'd claimed not to care how he looked, would be different…but it all came down to magic in the end. Vampires rejected him for knowing it, Boris hated him for being better, Edmund hated him for not using it to do every little thing.
The unhappy thoughts broke off as he realized the handsome vampire was holding out his hand. Hesitantly Phoenix took it, shaking hands, startled that this vampire would be so polite – and met his gaze without flinching or grimacing.
First Zach and now this one. It was almost enough to give him hope, if he hadn't given up on that a long time ago.
"My name is Korbin Delaney, I'm personal assistant to Dracula Derrick. He has appointed me to assist you and the detectives however I may."
Phoenix frowned, disconcerted. "Where are Zach and Doug?"
"They asked me extend their apologies," Korbin replied. "Something else came up in the investigation and they wanted to see where it led. In the meantime, I thought perhaps I could fill you in on those details you may not already know?"
He had to be alone with the handsome vampire?
Strange, Zach hadn't really affected him at all and technically speaking the hire the rank of the vampire the greater his beauty. Zach was beautiful from head to toe…yet Phoenix hadn't cared beyond his usual sour misery.
Ugh. He didn't need this.
"Sure," he finally said.
Korbin smiled, and didn't look like the expression was killing him, and his eyes really were pretty—damn it. He did not need a pathetic case of lust right now. "Why don't we get you settled first? That bag looks heavy. I'm certain I'd be sick of lugging it around. This way."
"Settled?" Phoenix echoed, feeling stupid.
"Unless the case is solved today, which as much as I wish I sincerely doubt, you will need a place to stay. We've rooms of plenty, of course."
Phoenix frowned. "But—" He was ugly. And a necromancer.
Korbin smiled again. "This way," he repeated.
Bemused, Phoenix followed him through hallways and up stairs and through more hallways until they at last reached a room into which he could likely fit his entire house. It was a beautiful room, though, not least of all the skylights in the ceiling. Moonlight shown down on dark carpeting, until it was abruptly dispersed by the lights Korbin flicked on. Then he saw everything was black, green, and blue.
"Uh…" Nope, couldn't do it. He was officially overloaded. He stood in the doorway feeling numb – or perhaps just dumb.
He was startled into movement as his duffel was taken from his shoulder. "Um—I can—"
"My, this is heavy," Korbin commented lightly, moving to a massive bed and depositing the bag on it. "Did you bring a library with you?"
"Almost," Phoenix muttered, slinking guiltily to his bag and yanking the zipper open, pulling out the books inside, muttering softly as he checked all the spells were still in place and the more delicate ones had survived the journey.
He looked around the room, searching…ah. That table would do nicely. Crossing the room, he deposited the books he held upon a small but sturdy table set beneath the window that displayed the dark sea beyond. If he hadn't gotten entirely turned around in this massive house, he was close to if not directly above the sitting room he'd been in just minutes ago.
Setting the books down, he went back for more, studiously ignoring Korbin. Likely he'd get bored or fed up and make his excuses and leave soon anyway. Retrieving more books, he carried them to the table, making one last trip before all twenty of the volumes he'd brought along were stacked in neat, orderly fashion on the table.
Looking at them all, he felt somewhat stupid. The chances he would need any of them were slim…but they were not yet certain what they were up against, beyond a vampire who was killing other vampires, possibly for the purposes of necromancy.
Circumstantial evidence, all of it – he wasn't even certain how they knew a vampire was doing the killings, other than a scrap of paper with necromantic writings that could have been…but that wasn't his problem. The detectives believed it was a necromancer, and until it was proven otherwise Phoenix would go with that.
"Incredible," Korbin said from just behind him.
Phoenix started.
If Korbin noticed, he gave no indication. "I admit I'm rather fascinated to meet a real necromancer. There are not many of you, and the rumors that abound have always seemed a tad exaggerated." He smiled. "Zach said you confirmed that it very well could be a necromancer behind all these killings?"
"Yes," Phoenix replied, and explained briefly what he had already told Zach and Doug.
"Amazing," Korbin said when he'd finished. "I wish the circumstances were happier, for I like this chance to learn something about necromancy. You would think vampires as a whole would understand it better."
Phoenix shrugged. "It was decided by the Draculas that necromancy was best forgotten."
"Well, if all vampires acted like our killer, I can see why," Korbin replied. "However, you are something else entirely."
Uncertain how to take that comment, Phoenix shrugged again. "So tell me more about the murders."
"I can do you two better. Which would you prefer first? To visit the murder sites or see the bodies?"
"Um," Phoenix said, startled. "You still have the bodies?"
Korbin nodded. "Secured in the basement. We did not want to dispose of them until we knew what we were dealing with, and later when Zach and Doug determined a necromancer might be involved it seemed especially important to hold the bodies for a time."
Phoenix nodded. "They may be useful, but let's start with the locations of the murders?"
"Then follow me," Korbin replied, and vanished.
Phoenix followed. They reappeared in an alleyway that defined the words filthy and disgusting. He wrinkled his nose. "Why would a vampire be caught here? Certainly one would not hunt here…" He frowned in thought and unthinkingly began to mutter, the rest of the world fading out as he put to use the skills he loved enough to make himself a pariah.
Tracing the sigils in the air, muttering them beneath his breath, he looked for the telltale traces of necromancy. Magic of the living races left a warm residue. Vampires cast magic with energy stolen from others. Second hand, converted upon taking in what they needed to live – a cold residue.
He was definitely detecting a cold residue, though only barely, as though the necromancer had attempted to erase all signs of his presence. Certainly he'd erased enough of it; Phoenix could not get enough of it to capture a personal identification.
So the killer was a necromancer of not insignificant skill – but not of great skill either.
Twitching his fingers in an intricate pattern that would look like so much nonsense to spectators, he muttered the sigils that would erase any signs of his own magic. "Definitely a necromancer," he said, and finally looked toward Korbin– who was staring at him. "What?" he asked, tensing.
"That was incredible," Korbin said, moving closer. "You use magic like an imp or a demon, rather than simply finding it occasionally useful like the rest of us."
Phoenix flushed, disconcerted by the utter lack of hostility or mockery, the way Korbin sounded genuinely impressed. "They're basic spells," he said, then cleared his throat when his voice sounded a bit more strained than he liked. "A child could learn them, or anyone else who was inclined. First and second level spells are nothing."
"Still more than I could manage," Korbin said, smiling. "What else can you do, I wonder?"
The look in his eyes was one Phoenix didn't trust for a minute. Edmond had looked at him like that, or seemed to, before Phoenix had figured out he'd just been hoping an adept vampire could make his life easier.
No one wanted him, and certainly this personal assistant to a Dracula wouldn't. A vampire like this had more phone numbers than could fit in one little black book, surely.
"Nothing special," he finally said. "You said there were five murders?"
Confusion flickered briefly through Korbin's eyes, but then it settled into something Phoenix couldn't puzzle out. Then he was abruptly all business again. "The next one took place in the public gardens. Did you want to head that way, or was there more you needed to do here?"
"I'm done here," Phoenix said. They vanished.
He looked around their new location. They were in what seemed to be rather a secluded portion of what Korbin had called the public gardens.
"They were funded by his lordship," Korbin said. "He takes great pride in his territory, and prefers to keep the normals within it as complacent as possible."
Phoenix nodded and cast his spells again, hoping they could conclude today's work before he had to feed again. As much magic as he would likely need to use, however… He shoved the unhappy thought away and focused.
Again he could find no useful traces, only confirmation that he was indeed dealing with a necromancer of respectable skill. He sighed, frustrated. "Have you any suspects in mind?" he asked. "I know it must be difficult, but you are certain no one among you is responsible?"
Korbin spread his hands. "It is, of course, a delicate matter to accuse one vampire of killing others. I half wish the dead individuals were human. At least then the vampires would be less reticent to speak about it. If it is a tenant, then he has done a remarkable job of hiding his magical abilities. Certainly you blaze; I do not know how anyone could hide such power. I've never seen anything like it."
"I blaze?" Phoenix repeated. "You can read my magic?"
"Not terribly well," Korbin replied, "but I can sense the difference between myself, Zach, and you. Much like feeling the difference between a candle and a hearth fire. You stand out." That look flashed in his eyes again, and Phoenix jerked his gaze away, refusing to get caught in a game that would only end in more pain.
He shrugged off the compliment and focused. "An unusual skill, that. Most of us must practice hard to be able to read magical ability half so easily. It sounds like you have the potential to be quite a necromancer yourself."
"Sensing ability and teleporting are about all I can manage," Korbin said with a grin that made him look almost boyish. "Trust me when I say we don't want me trying much else. I'm an excellent assistant, but I can't see being a necromancer. Too busy, anyway."
Phoenix frowned, because he very much begged to differ, but he wasn't going to force the issue. None of his business. This time tomorrow he would likely be buried in his work again.
"Any new ideas as to what's going on?" Korbin asked.
"How far apart are the murders?"
"They've all been about a week apart, give or take a few hours. So far we have found no correlation between the victims, and with their blood drained we cannot even trace if they had meals in common."
Phoenix frowned in thought, running spells through his mind, shaking his head in frustration. "I wish I knew who the vampires had fed upon before they died. I would stake my own store of knowledge that they fed on abnormals, magic users all of them. Transmuted by the vampires upon feeding, it would make for potent blood indeed – potent enough that if the vampire drained his victims completely, the power would last him a week if he was careful with it. Sounds more and more to me like he's trying and failing to become a Nosferatu."
"Nosferatu? Zach explained that to me. You really think that's what he's about?"
"Yes, I do." Phoenix said. "The problem is that he's good, but not good enough. Passing from one grade to another requires the casting of 'upgrade' spells – like taking exams, or the way demons must go through a great deal of trouble to claim their consorts. You can't simply be a Revenant or Necromancer or Nosferatu. It's like a peasant suddenly deciding to be a tenant. Doesn't happen; he must go through the proper channels" Phoenix shrugged. "Short answer – it won't work. He'll keep failing, until he finally manages to kill himself – or we find him."
Korbin nodded. "You're pretty good at this detective stuff."
Phoenix rolled his eyes. "Hardly. I'm only good for necromancy. Shall we try the next sight? Though I think we will gain nothing from them, this necromancer was good enough to wipe his personal mark."
"Let us return to the house, if you think this is not helping. Perhaps examining the bodies will provide some clue." Korbin suggested. At Phoenix's nod, they vanished.
Phoenix wished suddenly he had opted to continue examining the sites. He looked nervously out the window, noting absently how pretty the ocean looked. His sad little house looked out over a garden of weeds he could never muster the energy to take care of – not even magically.
"So, if I might ask, how did you become interested in necromancy?" Korbin asked.
Phoenix abandoned the window, unable to resist the chance to talk about his favorite subject – because unhappy as it made him at times, he loved it. Magic was his everything. "I actually didn't know much about it either, except that I was rather good at it. An old friend of mine was the one obsessed, and I tagged along…" Because he'd been half in love with Boris all his life, it had seemed then. When they'd eventually gotten into sex, he'd thought the feelings mutual.
He'd learned the hard way that Boris cared about himself first and foremost, and magic because it was a way to gain more power for himself. When he'd wound up falling in love with magic, and better at it than Boris…
Sometimes, late at night when he couldn’t sleep and the loneliness got to be too much…he wondered if that damned spell had gone awry accidentally or on purpose. It wasn't a thought he liked to dwell upon.
After that, magic had become his life…until Edmund…which had lasted six months before reality finally forced itself upon him. Still he had hoped that Edmund would come to his senses or something.
But ultimately he knew it wasn't Edmund he missed – just someone.
He shook his head. "I tagged along, and wound up loving it. We parted ways, eventually, and I kept with my magical studies."
"You are a necromancer of some skill? It certainly seems like it. Do you know any other necromancers?"
Phoenix shrugged and wondered when Korbin had moved closer. "We write letters to each other, occasionally speak through spells. So few of us work on preserving necromancy, it would be detrimental to our cause not to keep in touch. But actually met? No. I've never bothered." He preferred to keep his ugliness to himself as much as possible.
"Zach explained what he knew about Nosferatu to me, but I confess I'm still confused on several points. Why would anyone want to be a Nosferatu?"
"A good question," Phoenix said, smiling briefly. "Vampires once did not hide the way they do today. Abnormals in general did not hide from the normals as much as we do today. That only came after the witch burnings, when far more than witches were killed… Once, abnormals fought tenaciously for territory, power… Power was crucial, and magic was power. Once upon a time, all Dracula were Nosferatu. Many of the ruling families today are descended from some of the greatest Nosferatu to ever live. Destroyed, all of them, along with the greater portion of the vampire race…
"Back then, it was much easier to drink as much as they needed to sustain their power. Nor was it unheard of for vampires to feed upon their own kind for still greater power. These days, it would not be practical to cast the upgrade spells to become a Nosferatu. If this vampire wants to reach that level…I wonder what it is he wants to do…"
Korbin drummed his fingers on the windowsill, staring out to watch the ocean. "I cannot imagine. To my mind, it would only cause headaches. Could he be hoping to displace a Dracula?"
"Possibly, but I don't see why anyone would want to. Then again, I'm not a necromancer who would resort to feasting upon my brothers. I'm quite content to spend my time pouring over archaic tomes and my own journals." He shook his head. "We should be examining the bodies, not standing around chatting."
"Of course," Korbin said. "Forgive my curiosity."
Phoenix shrugged. "I don't mind. Murders take precedence, however." He smiled briefly, then dropped his gaze before he got caught up in staring.
"This way, then," Korbin replied. He turned and led the way through the halls, pulling a key out of his jacket.
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Date: 2008-01-11 12:17 am (UTC)it's like your torturing me.
you are my idol, i've told all my friends i wish to be like you and they just look at me like i'm crazy cause they're idiots who won't get addicted to slash fiction. FOOLS! *glares at air*
anyhoo, this is amazing, i love it very,very,very,very much and cannot wait for more. of anything.
xxxx
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Date: 2008-01-11 12:40 am (UTC)I couldn't find it and I remember really enjoying the bits that you posted.
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Date: 2008-01-11 12:51 am (UTC)Unbreakable, unbreakable....oh! that's the incubus one. Yeah, I have no idea what to do with that dratted story.
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Date: 2008-01-11 01:09 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-01-11 01:19 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-01-11 01:25 am (UTC)*luffs upon you* It's always the emo Ukes that get me. <3
(You rewrites rock my socks~!)
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Date: 2008-01-11 03:21 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-01-11 03:42 am (UTC)Like I said, when I'm done my betas can deal with that stuff. I'm glad you like it, though.
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Date: 2008-01-11 04:43 am (UTC)I like the way you parse out your background information in this one. Having it in small, pertinent pieces rather than one huge glob is always more palatable and runs much better.
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Date: 2008-01-11 06:27 am (UTC)Really like the tie-in with Zach and Doug which is a tie-in with Chris and Sable that live in the DwtD 'verse which is love. Want Phoenix to end up with a lover, of course, who wouldn't he's so sweet and hurt. I like the little details you've put in this story to enrich the background. Had a little confusion til later when you talked of ex-lover Edmund and then the ex-lover was Boris but that straightened out (we'll just blame that on one of my senior moments, okay). Want to see the rest and what you are going to do with it.
What was Phoenix working on that he fell asleep at the table in the beginning? A short comment on what his project was ie continuing project that he could just leave and come back to without distress at time lost. I was cringing (yelling in my mind)that he didn't check through the peep-hole before opening the door. He's powerful in a neighborhood of normals but still..Paranoid,.. me? Why is Korbin so comfortable with Phoenix and his disfigurement, other than he is a better person and has talent himself, still.. his reaction in comparison to the (let's all throw acid in the face of the nasty..) butler. Korbin is much more than the normal fasinated with Phoenix; Kory needs depth to him. Am tired and should be sleeping or I'd be doing a better explanation. Am feeling a to read to the conclusion/ happy ending again. *whimpers*
Want to pick you up and hug you and dance you around. You're going at this again and working on it. And we know how much I like this 'verse subject.. am hopeless.
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Date: 2008-01-11 06:35 am (UTC)I remember the start to this. *_*
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Date: 2008-01-11 07:17 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-01-11 08:51 am (UTC)You can't stop now!
Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaargh!
*chains you to your keyboard*
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Date: 2008-01-15 07:17 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-01-11 08:58 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-01-11 05:24 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-01-12 02:37 am (UTC)Poor Phoenix. *snuggle glomps him* He so needs
some Korbin smexinga hug. ^_^no subject
Date: 2008-01-12 03:18 am (UTC)I love this story! <3 I liked the incarnation you had before, but it was much shorter and... more direct, I suppose, than your regular style. I just love that you've filled in some more about the case, and the more subtle Korbin and slower lead-in to the pairing is wonderful. I love getting a small peek into the way you do your thing.^^
*snugs* Can't wait to see more!
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Date: 2008-01-12 10:48 am (UTC)Thank you so much for posting this again. I would have commented earlier but my internet wasn't cooperating. >.>
I recall the initial draft having a faster pace than this but this one is rather nice because it gives Korbin the chance to get closer to Phoenix without overwhelming him.
Thanks again. :)
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Date: 2008-01-22 09:46 pm (UTC)I think I was doing the somewhat stalkerish-thing of simply pulling up your entire archive, and reading everything you wrote from the beginning of your blog.
Blame
heh.
I'm not very coherent right now, sorry - subsisting on Mt Dew and bubble gum will do that. ^.^
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Date: 2008-05-30 09:56 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-06-19 07:57 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-12-01 05:52 am (UTC)