Death Has no dominion here

Curiouser and curiouser.

Dani breathed a low chuckle. “You’re really taking the night’s theme of literature to heart, aren’t you?” They glanced at him from the corner of their eye. A small tease in the midst of the heavy subject couldn’t hurt.

As they concentrated on Carrington’s new questions, their vision tipped downward and the lids fell over their eyes. The young Savin was well aware of the significance of dreams, but they had never stopped to consider theirs. Not for this issue. Maybe because they didn’t know which questions to ask. Or maybe because they were wary of what they might discover. “I know where it is.”

“The bedroom where I found the grimoire. It’s dark and it’s dead quiet – except for the mirror.” In revisiting their thoughts, the mirror seemed to be the looking glass and vice versa. “I can hear things– but they’re muffled, like I’m trying to listen from underwater. And yet, I can see clearly enough. There’s just no color to any of it.”

Dani paused for a few moments before they continued. “It’s not repetitive. Not usually. It’ll be bits and pieces of whatever I’ve done or seen throughout the day. Shards of memories that aren’t mine – around the grimoire and that house. And there’s a man I catch glimpses of a lot- separately. I’ve met him once before, when I was younger… I have a feeling I might know who he is, but I don’t want to jump to conclusions.”

When their eyes snapped open again and their head lifted, they sighed. “I’m not surprised. You’re not the first witch to say so. As old as they are, I imagine they have to have some known bit of history out there.” The ex-necromancer’s alternative theory perfectly fit the professor’s thoughts. They leaned back where they sat, nodding. “You’re right – but not singularly. As with most problems, I believe it’s multicausal. I was drawn to the grimoire well before we opened it. Whoever cast the binding might not have intended it to be permanent. It was meant to wear off; magically busting the book open just gave it an extra little jump start.”

As he continued, it quickly became apparent that Dani hadn’t offered a very clear explanation of the scenario. Regardless, they waited for him to finish to apply their correction. “No, actually– I should have been more specific.” Their arms uncrossed so one hand could scratch behind their neck. “When the Lovels fled town, my grandmother was only about seventeen years old. There’s not many records to say what happened to the lot of them after that, but I would think it more likely that they scattered. Made themselves harder to find,” Dani sighed. “She settled in Boston and died when my father was a kid. The official death certificate says breast cancer, but with all of this supernatural drama, part of me has to wonder whether that was truly the case,” they glanced up at him and shrugged.

“My father moved out to Utah when he married my mother, so I was born there. Two years later, they had to move to Washington for one of his Navy assignments. But one day, they told the rest of the family they were going up to Seattle on a sailing trip and whatever happened, they were forced to shore and made the perfect target for a rogue vampire. I was below deck. The vampire found me afterwards and apparently felt guilty. It just happened that he had previously sought out Dad’s help. He brought me here to Soapberry because he didn’t know where else to go and I’m sure you can understand what happened from thereon.”

“Granted–” rubbing their arm thoughtfully, the professor tilted their head, “this is all largely hearsay. Stories I’ve been told by people who don’t know any differently. But, both suggest they may have been fleeing something. Hell, maybe they were trying to get to Soapberry for sanctuary even though his mother’s coven had been run out. The one fact regarding Dad that does throw me off… his Romanian heritage. The Lovel coven has ancient origins in that country, as well as roots in the Romani people that came through in later years. They weren’t always stable; they traveled, but the language stayed with them. Faye tried multiple different languages trying to unlock that grimoire – Latin, French, English – but it wouldn’t respond until I tried Romanian. I find that very curious.”

Carrington dipped his head in a small bow. “In for a penny, and all that.” His nature was curiousHe watched Dani closely as they seemed to concentrate on finding the answer to his question. When it came, Carrington showed no outward reaction, other than a small flicker of his eyes, and let Dani speak uninterrupted.

The location of the dream didn’t surprise him. Though it did confirm the connection between said dream and the finding of the grimoire. Dani continued, and the list of questions already building in Carrington’s head grew longer. The one thing that set him slightly on edge being the bits of memory Dani confessed to seeing. Memories that didn’t belong to them. “Be careful there,” he said when there was a pause. “It sounds like you’ve got a good hold on what’s yours and what’s not, but if the realities start to blur...” Carrington gave Dani a small look that said ‘be careful.’ As for the man, that was also a useful bit of information. But Dani seemed to have this in hand as well, so Carrington didn’t comment. 

He caught Dani’s gaze once they opened their eyes, his own expression thoughtful. The name Lovel was not uncommon in certain circles. Most old covens at least had a vague awareness of others with the same long-lived history. It was simply good business to know your equals - and any possible allies or enemies - as it were. “So did the urge to open it build slowly then? Once you found it?” Carrington rubbed a finger over his lower lip as he tried to process his thoughts. But it seemed as if he had part of the story wrong. 

He crossed his arms again as Dani clarified the Lovel’s flight from town. So, the grandmother had been a child at the time. Separated from her family - by choice or by circumstance - at some point after that, and then giving birth to a son, Dani’s biological father, on the East Coast. Which was almost as far as one could get from Soapberry without crossing an ocean. “Have you looked into those records yourself then?” Carrington asked curiously. “Other than the death certificate?”

The rest of the story that followed - the sailing trip to Seattle, the apparent career Navyman that purposefully ran his vessel aground for some unknown reason, the sheer coincidence that the rogue vampire that had apparently slaughtered Dani’s parents hadn’t killed them (a helpless child at the time) as well, and then the convenience of Savin, along with the chosen language of the book... - didn’t settle well with Carrington’s suspicious nature. 

So he was quiet for a bit as Dani finished, a furrow forming in his brow as his thoughts started to swirl around in his head. Forming no real pattern yet, but perhaps the beginnings of one. And being quite fond of the theory that the simplest answer was usually the right one, eventually Carrington spoke. “As do I,” he said. Very, very curious. And it made the hairs on the back of his neck prickle. 

“Though I’m assuming Savin knows all this? Or most of it? And that the vampire who brought you to him - the one that supposedly killed your parents - is either conveniently dead or fallen off the radar? Otherwise you would’ve sought them out for answers by now.” It wasn’t phrased as a question, but there was the slightest hint of one just beneath the calmly stated words. 

It was what Carrington would have done, after all.  

“Borrow one?” Dani smirked, slightly and largely to themself. “I might know a trick or two for sneaking them out without tripping the alarms.” Not that those tricks would do any good if they failed to find any promising volumes.

And yet, not even that seemed to matter anymore once Carrington heard of their own troubles. They tried not to look at him, their eyes still drifting over the dusty pages of the volume in their hands. His intrigue made the hairs on the back of their neck stand up. They weren’t cautious of him or uncomfortable discussing the subject… not entirely, anyway. But as the ex-witch circled them, the latent power trapped in their blood shivered like it knew it was under observation. It was similar to the faint magical hum of the many grimoires around them, only quieter and more erratic. It was when Carrington leaned in that their eyes darted toward him at last.

“I know what spellbinding is meant for– and I know what it requires and how it works. So, yes. I’m certain.” Turning away from the bookshelf, Dani stepped around him and a few paces forward before setting the spellbook down on one of the tables with a bit of a smack. Then, sighing, they added, “–and so is Faye. She is the one who realized it in the first place.”  

The professor felt like a child having the details of their condition reiterated to them as the man tried to make sense of their case. It was more for him than themself, they supposed, but that didn’t erase the annoyance that haunted the edge of their mind. What he asked them next, though, did halt the rest of their thoughts. Any dreams? No one had questioned them on such a matter previously. Yet, as they stood there, gaze lifted to blink at the wall of books opposite them, they answered automatically on the heel of his last word. “A mirror.” And swallowed.

Instantly after, their stare shot back down to the table’s wooden surface. A wariness had crept into their voice, accompanied with a haze to their eyes. “A- a looking glass… Only- the world you see through it is this one. Not another.” Dani paused for a long while, slowly turning a page of the grimoire until their vision righted itself and they cleared their throat. Because Carrington was right– neither of them were fools. As uneasy as the young Savin’s situation could be, it could very well guide Carrington towards the break that he needed, and his search could aid them in return. This was an opportunity they had no choice but to seize.

“That’s a fairly broad question,” the glanced over at him with a small huff. “But if it’s origins you’re interested in– there was a coven, the Lovels, who lived here in this town for a time. They’re much older than a few decades, of course. Ancient. As is their grimoire, which last belonged to my grandmother and since I managed to unlock it, now belongs to me.” Settling in for what they assumed was to be a much longer conversation, Dani sat themself on the edge of the table and loosely crossed their arms. “Faye and I believe that finding and opening it is what triggered the latent magic in my blood in the first place. As for what reason someone would have to go through the trouble of spellbinding an infant, protection seems the most likely.”

“Something happened to the Lovels that drove them out of town… and not all of them made it. Whatever it was, it must be connected, but I haven’t been able to find any further information on the event.”

“Perhaps memory will serve then,” he commented. “If anything in this bloody time capsule proves useful.” The last was muttered mostly to himself, as it would be his luck to not find anything useful after so much time and effort was put in. But as it so happened, the most useful thing in the room turned out not to be one of the dust-covered grimoires or faded, chain-covered spell-books, but the diminutive professor that had provided Carrington entrance to the chamber in the first place. 

Funny ol’ world, ain’t it? 

And Carrington had not forgotten about his own dilemma, but as had always been his nature, he was drawn to the strange and the inexplicable. Especially as this particular strangeness mirrored his own. In a way. So he circled Dani, his storm colored eyes observing them as if whatever magic had bound them in it’s web would show itself simply because of his scrutiny. There was... something there. Or perhaps Carrington was only imagining it. But Dani moved away and Carrington let them go. 

He turned to watch them, but stayed where he was, content to give them space as he crossed his arms and gathered his thoughts. At least Dani was aware it seemed, of the magnitude of such a spell. Though as they told him Faye was the one to have figured it out in the first place, Carrington’s eyes flicked towards them, and a moment later he made a small sound that meant ‘of course she did.’ Faye would know all about that, wouldn’t she? Considering. 

Carrington had taken a step towards Dani as he asked his questions. But an answer came faster than he anticipated, and gave him pause. A mirror. His expression tightened slightly as Dani used the word ‘looking glass’ the second time, as they started to describe what it was they saw. “Curioser and curioser,” he said quietly, but remained still as Dani continued. 

Cycling through what he knew of the symbolism of such things, and the potential dangers, Carrington finally broke the silence that followed with another question. “When you look through the glass, what else do you see?” He moved towards them again, speaking softly. “Does the looking glass reside in one particular place? Like a room or a corridor?” 

He perched against the desk opposite, arms still crossed over his chest, as Dani attempted to answer his other question. “Lovel,” he repeated. “Something about that seems familiar.” But he couldn’t place the name just yet. A long finger rubbed across his lip, and his eyes rose to meet Dani’s as they spoke of the grimoire. It was a sound theory, and not one Carrington would try and refute. But there was always another possible explanation. Another way of looking at things. “Or perhaps the spell-binding is starting to wear off? And that allowed you to sense the book in the first place?” 

Though he frowned as Dani mentioned the Lovels being driven from town. After binding their infant daughter’s magic. A year ago, Carrington wouldn’t have had any perspective at all when it came to what a parent might do for a child. But now that he’d been allowed into the circle of Eowyn’s life, allowed to get to know her, and been accepted by her without question, Carrington had an inkling. He was also starting to realize what leaving such things behind would mean. And it was nothing he cared to dwell on. Though it seemed as if he had no choice in the matter. 

“So the Lovel’s spellbound their only child - most likely to the detriment of themselves and/or their coven - and when they were forced from their home - a place that claims to be protected - they didn’t take that child with them? They just... left you on Savin’s doorstep?” Carrington didn’t know much about the relationship between the vampire and his eldest child, other than he’d taken them in. It wasn’t his business, of course, but a few more details might help. Though a thought did strike him quite suddenly. 

“Did you ever think that maybe... you weren’t spellbound because the Lovel’s were already in danger... but they put themselves in danger because they bound you? Such an ancient line of magic would likely have it’s own rules. It’s own law. Perhaps your parents knew they’d be breaking a covenant by doing such a thing to a child. They knew they’d be run out. And leaving you with someone like Savin - wealthy, powerful, influential... immortal - had always been part of the plan?” It was merely a theory, like most of their conversation to this point, but Carrington was not one to believe in coincidence. 

The gleam in Carrington’s eye brought a tiny smile to Dani’s lips. He had no way of knowing it, he had lightened their spirit - if only a smidge - in the wake of the sensitive memory. And they were grateful for that. “A grocery list?” they chuckled. “Right. Unfortunately, that’s one resource we don’t have here to browse, but lucky for you, we have a grand collection of grimoires to make up for it.”

Between the charmed lamps and the grimoires stacked in this particular section, there was just enough minute magic for the whole area to have a ‘hum’ of its own. At least, a hum that Dani was aware of. Whether or not Carrington was picking up on the same energy, they couldn’t tell. The professor wandered over to one of the shelves and dragged a finger delicately across the spines whilst they skimmed the volumes. Like their companion, they hadn’t yet found anything significantly useful, though there was one they thought worth a second glance.

As he spoke up again, their finger traced back and lifted it to tilt the book for retrieval. Dani had begun to slip it out and was in the process of bringing it down, but when the last few of his questions hit them, they stopped. For a few seconds, their arm held its place before slowly resuming its actions, bringing the grimoire down for their other hand to hold. “No. Something else.” Rather than looking over to him, they concentrated solely on their effort to release the clamps that held the grimoire shut. “What you believe about magic– how you intend to revive yours from whatever latent traces are left within you…” Once the clamps were undone, Dani turned over the cover with the lightest touch and did the same for the pages after it, their eyes skimming over lines and spells as they spoke, “…I’ve been searching for a similar solution myself. The underlying difference in my case being there’s no magic lost. Only bound.”    

Carrington could feel... something. Having had magic since birth, removing it didn’t completely negate his ability to know when magic was present. Though it certainly dampened the ability by a rather depressing margin. So instead of the ‘hum’ that Dani was experiencing, Carrington felt a sensation that was akin to being watched from afar. He knew something was there, could sense the weight of it’s presence, but he couldn’t feel it. Not like he would have normally been able to. Still, Carrington would take what he could get at this juncture.

He gave Dani a nod as they spoke of the collection of grimoires housed in this section of the library. “I don’t suppose I’d be so lucky as to be able to borrow one, would I?” 

He moved along the opposite side of the corridor from Dani, eyes moving swiftly over the titles that were presented to him. He stopped every now and then, thinking he saw something that might be useful to him, but moved on when nothing turned up. Dani’s pause as he asked his question caught his eye, and Carrington turned his head to observe them briefly. Ah. So it was personal, was it? Interesting. And when Dani revealed as much, Carrington turned fully towards them. 

Though what came next was... surprising. To say the least. It wasn’t often that Carrington found himself truly taken aback. He held up a finger as he stepped towards Dani, letting it fall to slowly point at them as he came closer. “You’re spellbound?” The ex-witch looked at Dani with a new sort of wonder, stepping in a slow circle around them to look them over a bit more closely. “You don’t seem the type...” he said mostly to himself. “Spellbinding is... not common. Most witches that are bound were noted to have lost their minds. Gone mad as a Hatter for one reason or another. Making them a danger to themselves and others.” He leaned close, observing Dani’s face as best he could without it being intrusive. 

“You’re certain?” he asked again, seemingly baffled - but undeniably intrigued - by this new information. “Because this isn’t some... simple magic. It takes a coven to cast such a spell. Or a minimum of at least two extremely powerful witches.” Carrington huffed, rubbing a hand over his mouth as he stepped away again. “Have you had any dreams? Ones that repeat? Or... themes that repeat themselves? Chains or spiderwebs... cages, bars, quicksand, rope... anything that could be symbolic of binding or entrapment?” Carrington hadn’t for one second forgotten about his own predicament. It was simply as Dani had said: they were in a similar boat. Dani’s solution could be a step towards Carrington’s solution. And vice versa. It would be foolish not to try. And Carrington was many things, but a fool wasn’t one of them. Usually. He didn’t figure Little Savin for one either. 

Dani breathed a sigh of relief. Hearing Faye had regained her own magic was a comforting thought. Especially recalling what she had said to Dani about losing her magic in the first place – that it felt like she was dying. She more than deserved to be whole again. “I’m glad,” the professor smiled lightly. “Her body wasn’t rejecting your magic, but it was unstable and volatile. It never would have suited her nature entirely.”

Carrington’s mindset grabbed Dani’s attention. “I think you’re right.” They looked up at him thoughtfully. “When a witch loses their power, they’re still a witch. They’re not suddenly human. They still possess an aptitude for magic even if they can’t access it…” A few long seconds of silence hung upon the end of the young Savin’s words. It struck a cord, reminiscent of their particular conversation with Faye yet again.

Clearing their throat, the professor turned their head to read the labels on each of the shelves to their right as they walked past. They hummed to themself briefly before twisting on their heel to change direction down one of the smaller hallways. “I suspect you’re looking for more of a grimoire, yes?” Their pace slowed as this new hallway began to break into separate shorter clusters of shelves on either side of them, several conveniently outfitted with their own table for study. It was a section Dani had been browsing more often themself these days, offering a variety of resources on magical manifestation, and in a similar way, the nature of magic itself. They figured that with Carrington’s perspective, perhaps the information they were looking for wasn’t all that far apart.

“As am I.” Carrington left it at that, knowing everything that Dani said was true. Though what they didn’t seem to know was that it was that the magic had been killing her. Slowly but surely. Just as Faye’s magic had been killing him. It might have taken years, decades even. But eventually, like a foreign parasite, their bodies would have succumbed to the magic in some way. Faye’s had come sooner than expected, under the influence of the blood moon, and exploded out of her en mass. Taking half of Savin’s estate with it. 

But that was in the past. Faye was whole. And Carrington didn’t regret his decision for one moment. Not even if it left him hollow and without magic for the rest of his days. That said, Carrington had no intention of sitting idly by and hoping that one day his magic would seep back into his veins. Hence his trip here tonight. 

When Dani pointed out that losing ones magic didn’t mean a witch was suddenly human, Carrington tipped his head. “Exactly.” There was a gleam in his eye that hadn’t been there a moment before. It wasn’t often he found someone that understood him. At least on a surface level. Deeper down... only Faye had come so close, and that had been ages ago. He watched the young woman’s face as their words echoed away into the dark, urging them to latch on to the idea he could see moving behind their golden eyes. “ At this point I’ll take a spell written on the back of grocery list,” Carrington quipped. “But yes. A grimoire would be my first choice.”

Maybe he was good at hiding it, but Dani was honest when they said they didn’t suspect him of any terrible intentions. Their own thoughts aside, if their father and Faye were willing to allow him anywhere near Eowyn, they trusted that his purpose in town was not innately negative. And believe it or not, there was something they liked about him. A fellow appreciation for trouble, perhaps?

“Ego sum inveni in silva obscura..’” the professor murmured under their breath with a short grin. Carrington’s reference was not lost to them and the Latin they had spoken made it clear. When the pair reached the crossroads, their voice rose again to its regular volume. “If that’s how you’d like to put it.” They watched as he turned on the compass, taking in their surroundings. Dani tucked their hands into their pockets, waiting out the moment.

Meeting his eyes as he looked at them once more, they chuckled quietly. “My mercy?” One of their brows ticked up. “I don’t think we’re quite there yet. Come on.” Nodding their head to the side, they turned and headed westward down one of the larger corridors. The faint hum of magic at the crossroads had allowed them to confirm their suspicions – Carrington did not have his magic. He felt hollow. Faye had told them previously that she possessed Carrington’s magic in place of her own, but with all that had gone on since then, they hadn’t had the opportunity to tell whether that fact still held true. They just felt, intrinsically, that no matter what had happened to it, having felt the nature of his magic, its instability attached to Faye, and now his hollow state… they had to help him.

“Does Faye still have your magic?” The question slipped out before it was meant to be said, but there were too many thoughts rolling around in Dani’s mind to keep everything contained. Nevertheless, their tone was appropriately grave and careful. “That’s why you’re here, isn’t it? You’ve lost it– or it’s been taken from you and you’re searching for a way to restore it?”

Carrington took Savin at their word, and didn’t anything else about his own trustworthiness. It wasn’t a point he saw worth arguing, plus there was the added bonus of him not being in the current business of double-crossing anyone. Particularly for no reason. Dani was taking him where he wanted to go, to (hopefully) find what he needed. What reason did he have to do anything untowards? The answer was none. 

So he followed into the depths of the archives, the smirk remaining on his face as Savin quoted Dante right back at him. “Fitting as anything,” he said of Dani being his literary guide. “Though lets hope there are only books where we’re going, hm?” The hum faded, and Carrington cleared his throat at the remark about mercy. He was, in fact, at Dani’s mercy, since he could wander for ages and possibly never find what he sought. So he followed along, ever watchful, wishing more than ever that he had been able to come here when he had been whole. Gods, but the things these books must contain...

But his thoughts were interrupted as Dani asked their question. It both surprised Carrington - so much that he paused ever so briefly, but recovered just as fast - and didn’t. Dani worked with Faye. If they hadn’t found out about Carrington through their father - or hearsay even - then the information would had to have come from Faye herself. “No. She doesn’t.” Carrington let out a breath. “She has her own magic back now. As it should be.” As for his own magic, well, the pint-sized professor had his number there too, didn’t they?

“More or less,” Carrington said, looking around as they walked. “I’m of the mind that magic is never really gone. It’s in our blood. Our marrow. Our DNA. It’s part of us on a level that can never be permanently removed. Not even by death itself.” Which was how Carrington had been left hollow in the first place. Through Faye’s ‘death’ that is. She’d come back, thank the gods, but the magic had gone back to whence it came. Faye’s out of him and into her. And his out of Faye - upon her ‘death’ - and into the ether. 

At Carrington’s own smirk, Dani tilted their head ever so slightly and answered in a subtly mischievous tone. “Both.” Breaking the rules often brought out a side of them that was normally reserved for daily teasing and fun. There was they got from breaking and entering that wasn’t the same as joking with a friend. Nevertheless, they kept this shift in personality well controlled. They had a sense that their time with Carrington was about to be far more interesting.

As they wandered through the restricted section, the tips of their fingers traced along a shelf, collecting a thin coating of dust. When he caught up to them, they glanced at their hand and flicked that dust away before returning their attention to him. “Perhaps, but I’ve met some truly terribly wicked individuals before. You don’t strike me as one of them.” There was a dark glint of sincerity in their golden eyes as they said so. 

“Though,” Dani then turned their gaze forward to scan across the shelves, “I might have one guess as to why you’ve come sneaking for literature at the witching hour– and if this is your first time exploring this section, then wouldn’t it be more practical for you to utilize the knowledge of someone who’s been here on various occasions to help you find it?”  

Carrington merely huffed at Dani’s response. Well then. Seems as if the professor wasn’t the stuffed shirt that their father seemed to be. Which was really too bad on the vampire’s part (though admittedly Carrington didn’t know him all that well). If things were different, Carrington wouldn’t mind finding his own sort of mischief with the elder Savin. And not the kind that involved getting his nose broken. Again. But as it was, his time here was limited, and he needed to use it wisely. 

The corridors smelled of old dust and dry-rotting vellum. With a bit of old leather and rusted iron mixed in for good measure. Rows upon rows of books extended in all directions, and Carrington had a feeling that it would be quite easy to get lost among the shelves. Perhaps for quite a long time. Good thing he had a guide. “Don’t I?” Carrington asked, his tone neutral. “Maybe I’m just good at hiding it.” He glanced down at them briefly before turning back to the shelves. 

It was his first time in this section. And only his third of fourth in the library itself. Casing the place had taken up his first few ventures. “You’re to be my Virgil then?” He stopped as they came to a sort of crossroads among the groups of shelves. An ornate compass was etched into the stone at their feet, and even without his magic Carrington could feel a hum as he stood in the middle of the symbol. He turned in a slow circle, looking around at the rather intimidating space and having no idea where to start. Carrington hated that feeling. “’Into the blind world we have now descended’,” he murmured, looking up at Dani once he’d turned full circle. 

“I thought it best not to assume,” Dani stated simply. Leaning forward from the shelf until they stood straight once more, they listened to his intentions. It was convenient that he went immediately into what was at least a vague explanation. They would have inquired next why the restricted section had inspired him to sneak about, especially at this hour. For a book was common sense, but they wouldn’t lie to themself – they were awfully curious which volume merited this sort of risky business.

Despite having planned to ask his intentions, however, they were never going to be what decided whether Dani assisted him or not. Verification of his name was all they needed. To Savin’s heir, Carrington himself was the critical subject. They wanted a chance to observe him - get a feel for him - but they wouldn’t have the time to do so unless they joined him in this little endeavor.

“There’s no point in rushing me, Mr. Bishop,” the professor sighed with the slightest smirk. Earlier, he had offered his lockpicks to them, yet they didn’t so much as glance at the tools as they stepped around him. The hand that had been behind them removed their own set from their pocket before they crouched down. His would have felt foreign in their hands. While they worked on the lock, their smirk grew just a tad. In no more than thirteen seconds, the locked clicked open and they stood. “I’ve done this before.”  

“Now,” after tucking their picks away, Dani pushed in the door and with a quick turn of their heel, stepped backwards through it, “Let’s go find you a book, hm?”

“A sentiment I can appreciate,” Carrington said with a dip of his head. Having been caught red-handed, so to speak, he opted to give over more information than the younger Savin had asked for. The only thing behind the door were books, after all. What else would Carrington be after? Common sense, yes. But a bit of unsolicited honesty could go a long way in Carrington’s experience. 

“I wouldn’t dream of it, Professor. I’m simply stating a fact.” He narrowed his eyes in an expression of watchful curiosity as Savin Jr. made their way towards the door, producing - to Carrington’s slight surprise and honest amusement - their own set of lockpicks. His own still dangled from his long fingers, but he tucked them away as the lock clicked open. He glanced between the door and Savin, trying and failing to hide his own smirk. “To this particular lock? Or in general?” 

Carrington tucked his own picks away and made quick work of putting away the suppression device on the door as well. The corridor fell into darkness as the glow went away. With only the tiniest of glances around the small space, Carrington followed Dani into the dark beyond the doorway. 

Dani made out the man’s performance with barely a moment of doubt. It wasn’t that the act was poor or misplaced, it was because they had seen it before. Because they had played the same ruse on countless occasions themself. Once you learn how a magic trick works, it loses its glamour. This case was no different, but as a result, Dani realized that such recognition typically reflected in both parties. They would have to be honest with the stranger if they wished to earn any ounce of his trust.

The professor watched as he rose to his feet. When the soft green hue illuminated the space, the atmosphere in the room shifted. It was calmer, yet Dani’s senses felt as though they sharpened, and their intrigue the same. Slowly, their crossed arms loosened and dropped to their sides. One bent behind them, presumably to retrieve something from their back pocket, but they paused before drawing anything into the light.

Their golden stare glistened as it locked onto his gaze. “Let’s start with your name.”

“I think you know my name,” Carrington said, watching Dani’s movements with a scrutinizing eye. He didn’t believe they wanted to harm him. But he also didn’t believe they wanted to help him either. Not yet at least. So - like Dani - Carrington figured a bit of honesty couldn’t hurt. “It’s Carrington. Bishop. I’m an... acquaintance of your father and step-mother.” 

The key behind Carrington made a small hum, but he didn’t remove his gaze from Dani. “And as much as I appreciate finally meeting the wayward daughter, unless you’ve got a key to this annoyingly locked room on you, I’ve only got a few more minutes until mine runs out of power.” He had longer than that, maybe a half hour, but that was a minor detail. 

“I’ll be sure to send word as soon as possible then,” Fane said honestly and sincerely the card tucked securely in his pocket. He wasn’t aware of Carrington’s life or childhood, not concerning him with the other man’s business at all honestly. As it was the man’s secrecy was coming back to bite them in the ass really he shouldn’t have been surprised but that was life. You couldn’t foresee everything.

You didn’t live four hundred odd years without learning a few tricks. Taking things from witches was one such trick especially those that dabbled in darker arts such as necromancy. “Well, good evening sir,” Fane replied politely watching until he saw the man depart the perimeter of the property. Only then did Fane shut the door and pull out his phone hitting speed dial to get a hold of his wife.

He pressed the phone to his ear as he paused to glance out of the blinds to make sure the man was gone for the time being. Something was very off and he needed to figure out why this man was here at the convenient moment Faye and his son had departed.

Lucien walked about quarter-mile before turning back into the forest. By now, the vampire would’ve likely put in a call to his wife and Lucien’s son, letting them know that Lucien was here. No matter. The Arcana card would do it’s work soon enough. Though Lucien had to admire Savin for being bright enough not to touch the card itself. It would have been much easier if he had, less messy too in the end, but oh well. Certain sacrifices would have to be made. 

Finding an outcropping of rock that allowed him to see the lights of the house in the far distance, the elder Bishop sat down on a stony piece of ground - and with only a little effort as his 70 year old bones protested - crossed his legs beneath him. He placed his gloved hands on his knees and let his eyes go unfocused. After a moment, they rolled back until only the whites were showing, and he sat very, very still. 

A half-mile away, in the rafters of Faye’s spell room, Edgar the raven shuddered once, twice, three times before he blinked out of sleep. His black eyes were now a milky white, and he looked down at the two people in the room below. Lucien saw them through the bird’s eyes, like through dirty glass. He saw the picture the little girl was scrawling on the paper, saw the vampire spreading brick dust across the entryways and drawing runes and witch traps over the thresholds. 

Even as the roar of the creature that had expelled itself from the Arcana card came from somewhere deep in the house, Lucien knew the vampire was going to be a problem. 

Fane could and would do many a stupid thing in his lifetime, though when it counted he could at least be trusted to keep a level head. He understood the rules of engagement, give an inch and your opponent would seize a mile. So while he smiled and took stock of the situation mentally, his body language spoke to nothing more than the casual interest of a typical man speaking to someone on the street. “Oh really?” Fane’s lips pulled down at the corners a look of slight concern crossing his features, “he looked just fine last I saw him.”

As Lucien elaborated he wondered idly how much truth there might be to the words, but as it stood it was something that could be considered once the man in question was back from his traipsing trip. “Completely understandable,” Fane agreed in polite neutrality with just the correct touch of genuine concern to seem sympathetic. He was to a point, but he’d dealt with much slimier fish in the past and something about all this cut the wrong picture.

“Of course,” though as the card was held out Fane hesitated moving to pull a handkerchief from his pocket and take the item in question. He’d dealt with enough witches to not simply take an item at face value and once he had a hold of it folded it up neatly and made a show of tucking it into his pocket. “I’ll let him know you stopped by Mister Bishop.”

“Perhaps,” Lucien agreed. “Though the symptoms tend come on rather quickly and then end is... not pretty. Or so it was with his mother.” He gave Savin a tight, somewhat regretful smile. Was it the truth? Perhaps. Corrina Bishop had died when Carrington was a teenager, just starting to come into his power. She’d been regrettably human, though Lucien hadn’t been able to resist falling in love with her as a young man. She’d never cared for magic, finding it strange and frightening - at least Lucien’s version - and when her only son had been like his father, Corrina had worried that it would change him. 

Lucien had seen potential in his son. He was observant and quick to learn. Desperate to please both his parents. But he’d also seen Corrina’s softness, her bleeding heart, her timidness. Her weakness. 

Her death had been the final straw. The rift between father and son would never heal after that. Carrington had left, and never come home. So in truth, Lucien knew nothing about his son other than the bits and pieces he’d been able to find over the years. Not because of any paternal longing, but merely because he could. And until the child’s name had appeared in their family’s grimoire, Lucien’s interest in his son’s whereabouts had been mere curiosity. 

But now... now his son had unwittingly provided him with the very thing he’d stripped Lucien of when he’d forsaken his coven: an heir. A female heir. A female necromancer. For Lucien didn’t even entertain the idea that a child of his blood might be anything else. 

Savin took his card, his concern genuine it seemed, but Lucien didn’t fail to notice the way he tucked the card into a handkerchief instead of touching it. Pity, that. It would only prolong the inevitable. But Lucien gave Fane a nod of thanks. “Goodnight, Mr. Savin.” With that, he turned and walked back towards the road. 

Fane had been relatively careful about his footprint in history, some things couldn’t be helped or changed but considering his tangle with Grace and occasional brush with hunters he did his best all things considered. His multiple service records for example were a general de facto condition of serving as he had. Those such things were out of his hands. But otherwise unless you truly had the time and effort to dig you wouldn’t come up with much of anything. So while Lucien thought him two-hundred and fifty he was already several centuries out.

And with Faye gone, Fane was more vigilant of things. Though there were precautions they had opted to take – after everything that had happened with Faye’s mother trying to take Wyn. The discovery of her true parentage amongst other things? Faye and Fane had taken steps that only they were privy to. 

So, as he pulled open the door and was greeted by the vaguely familiar face of a stranger he was given pause. Considering the wards around the property typically didn’t allow just anyone to stroll up without prior allowance this meant that he’d managed to breach them. Confusion and initial wariness was therefore understandable all things considered. Fane looked at the elder gentleman for a long moment, eyes scanning down and up ultimately coming to rest on his features. Grim and stoic by all accounts now, but perhaps once a handsome man in his youth Fane hypothesised. 

The smile did little to settle him, and what came next gave him even longer pause. In which case no doubt related to one Carrington Bishop, ex-necromancer and witch which immediately led him to guess at how the man bypassed the wards. “Bishop?” he echoed, frame straightening just a fraction more as he eyed the other man, the hand behind the door out of sight from the exterior of the house moving to pull his mobile out. “Yes, that’s my name but I’m sorry. If you’re looking for your son he isn’t here, but if you come back in a few days you’ll no doubt catch him,” things were beginning to make more sense as to why that might just be the case yet Fane’s tone was smooth and belied no sense of concern at the present situation. While he spoke he unlocked his phone with the fingerprint scanner and thumbed open his messages, there was nothing Faye and Carrington could do where they were but if something happened they would at least have the facts if Fane could get a message to them.

Lucien let Savin give him a once over. He wasn’t trying to hide who he was, after all. Lying wasn’t above him, gods knew, but he preferred to deal in truth if he could. Much less messy that way. He expected suspicion for moving past the wards. Just as he suspected his name to be recognized and thus more suspicion added on. He watched the other man’s body language carefully, but doubted he would make any more to harm Lucien. After all, they were just talking. “Yes. And I do happen to be looking for Carrington. He’s...” Here Lucien sighed, making a face that said it was regrettable that he had to impose something so personal and disheartening onto someone he’d just met. “He’s not well, I’m afraid. So I’m really not sure if I have a few days.” 

His gaze cut towards the interior of the home that he could see through the small gap between Fane’s body and the door. “He seems fine, I’m sure, but Carrington has always been a bit of actor. Seems a weak heart wasn’t the only thing he inherited from his mother, may she rest in peace.” The older man shook his head. “She was about Carrington’s age when she died. The doctor’s called it a genetic anomaly. I called it human weakness,” Lucien said grimly. “Turns out... Carrington’s magic kept him well all these years. Now that it’s gone, well... I’d rather not see my only son die of a frailty of his own making.” 

Lucien gave Fane another smile. “But I’ve taken enough of your time. When you see him, would you have him call me?” He handed Fane a expensive-looking black business card with a number stamped on it in silver. “I’d be in your debt.” 

Faye, Carrington and Iann had all taken off a few days prior. The hagstone enough to cause concern amongst the ranks enough that they felt the need to consult an Oracle to learn the truth of it. None of it sat right with Fane, but what else could they do when everything they had tried failed to provide them with any evidence as to whom might have sent it. There was a malaise that lingered ever since its delivery by Faye’s familiar who had never particularly done anything other than hassle him with shiny objects in an attempt to please him. A rather irksome creature by all accounts in Fane’s general opinion.

So for the bird to break habit and deliver the item to Carrington? For the man to call the need for them to go to another state to find answers. It was disquietening to say the least. But what else could they do? And so, Fane had watched from the Estate windows as Faye, and Carrington had piled into Iann’s van and the trio had left on their journey. They’d left Friday - the weekend meant Fane didn’t have to worry about work and could take the time to watch Eowyn as was needed.

Which was precisely what he was doing, one hand under her legs the other under her arms supporting her in a horizontal position while he swept her around the living room. “Control. Come in, over. This is lavender one, coming in for landing. Whoooosh!” Eowyn’s bright laughter echoed through the living room as he swept her low before promptly rising and swooping her around once more like a plane. A proud grin on his own features at how happy the little girl was. It was one of her favourite things to pass the time - getting Fane to bounce and swing her around endlessly. A little adrenaline junkie in the making if ever he’d seen one and his preternatural strength was a blessing in disguise for the fact he could do this countless times and never get tired.

He was midway through one such swoop when he heard it, a light rap at the door. Unfortunately lacking in the blessing of any ability to sense the wards around the property Fane could only rely on natural judgement not that he had any reason to worry. Why would he? It was probably just a failed delivery to the neighbours. And as his attention shifted he picked out the calm beat of a heart outside the door, not familiar by any means, but not out of the ordinary lowering Wyn back to the ground he bent and kissed the top of her soft golden locks. “Reste ici ma petite, play with your games, hm? Papa’ll be back soon.”

With Wyn settled, Fane straightened smoothing down the front of his jumper as he padded silently towards the door. Flicking the deadbolt off and unlocking the main lock he pulled the door open a fraction, enough that it was still relatively closed save the slither of his body blocking the opening. He was greeted by an unfamiliar yet strangely familiar face. Not that he could place why the man seemed familiar to him. “I’m sorry… Can I help you sir?”

Lucien had felt the snap and hum of the wards the moment he’d stepped up to the main gate. They’d given him a bit of trouble at first - the magic was powerful, and free of any perceivable loopholes or weak spots - but when he sifted through instead of trying to dismantle, he found the familiar signature of his son coded into the magic to allow the younger man safe passage. From there it was simple enough to coax the wards into accepting Lucien himself for the time being, seeing as how Carrington wasn’t on the premises. It wouldn’t last forever, but it would last long enough for Lucien to do what he came to do. 

He knew it was only the vampire left here with the child. Which could be potentially problematic. The man was at least 250 years old, give or take. Lucien could only go back as far as the Napoleonic Wars between 1803-1815 before there were no more records to be found. Not without doing the kind of digging that required more time than he currently had. He had found out that Savin had been named an honorary British citizen in 1815 and bestowed with the title of Duke of Essex. That was public record, and found easily enough. Then there were records from the Crimean War in 1853, followed by both World Wars, and then he had basically disappeared from the world. Until his name reappeared in a few archaeological journals over half a century later.  

He could’ve asked around town for more information once he’d arrived, but he would rather not draw attention to himself in his time here. 

So at the very least Lucien was dealing with an experienced and decorated soldier that was also an immortal in the prime of his existence. One he was certain was privy to everything Lucien’s son and the witch had talked about. What Lucien wasn’t aware of was the mistake he’d made with the raven and the stone. It was something so simple as to be almost inconsequential. Except it wasn’t. The breaking of a nearly two year long pattern of Edgar delivering trinkets to Fane at least biweekly. 

Not that it would matter. The stone had served it’s purpose: to get at least one of the three out of the way. When he’d gotten two of them to leave, he couldn’t help but think luck was in his favor. Especially since it had been a shot in the dark to begin with. A stretching of his magic that he hadn’t attempted in a long while. But it had worked well enough. Certainly better than simply coming to this rathole of a town and snatching the girl. That would have been a bit too dramatic for someone like Lucien. He preferred his dealings not to include bloodshed. Particularly his own. 

So despite the fact that all he needed to do now was bypass the vampire and get the child, Lucien was no fool. He knew Savin might look tame, but he also knew that inside every Vampyre there was a monster waiting to be let out. It was simply their nature. And that nature could be manipulated. If one knew how. 

The door opened then, and Lucien could see the confusion on the man’s face already. Which had been expected. Carrington was unlikely to have spoken of him, seeing as how they hadn’t laid eyes on one another in nearly twenty years. Other than the brief couple of hours Lucien had spent making sure his worthless son didn’t die of magic poisoning nearly two years ago now. 

He gave Savin a warm if slightly apologetic smile. “Actually, yes. You can. My name is Lucien. Lucien Bishop,” he said the surname with slight emphasis. “I apologize for the hour, but I was hoping I might have a moment of your time? Mr... Savin, is it?” 

Dani was never the type to sound an alarm unless there was a threat of imminent danger. Too many situations were judged too swiftly and this was one that had thoroughly grasped their curiosity. He had come prepared to break in and his tools weren’t those you would find in your everyday lockpick’s reach. How he came by them and why he was here using them were only two of the many questions presently swirling around in their mind.

He played at the lock being ‘regrettably stuck,’ yet he didn’t seem all that regretful. It brought a tiny huffed breath and smirk to the very corner of the professor’s lips. But their curiosity was further piqued when he referred to them by name. They weren’t wearing a nametag, they knew, though they did rather look the part of a professor. He could have passed a board of pictured faculty members or heard some description of them from another university-goer, or–

There was also a chance that this man could be the fabled ‘Carrington’ whose presence Fane had alerted Dani of indefinitely. There were no clear indicators that they’d yet spotted, but they left the idea open at the back of their mind, just in case. Surely, he would have heard of them and seen their pictures around the estate. It would make absolute sense in that manner that he recognized them with no former introduction.

Their brows had ticked upward just a hair more and a moment of silence stretched between them before Dani responded, largely visibly unfazed, “Perhaps,” glancing again to the magic instruments around the lock, they leaned further against the wall and tilted their head, “but that depends…” They shifted their gaze to the picks in his hand, then his own gaze, and crossed their arms, “What’s in it for me?”

Feigning non-chalance was something Carrington did fairly well. For all outward appearances, he might as well have been in the market, unable to reach something on the top shelf, and asking Dani for assistance. Instead of trying to break into the Restricted Section of a supernatural library in a supernatural school located in a supernatural town. But semantics. 

When the younger Savin didn’t immediately sound the alarm, instead asking how they could possibly benefit from helping Carrington in his endeavor, the ex-necromancer tilted his head slightly. Because that was certainly not the usual response. But Carrington wasn’t about to look this wild-haired gift horse in the mouth. 

Slowly, hands where Dani could see them and spread in question, Carrington stood to his full height. The green glow of the magic-binder cast the area in a soft seafoam hue. “What would you like?”

Katarina raised an eyebrow when Carrington admitted that apparently most women left conversations with him as quickly as possibly. She guessed he was exaggerating. However at the core of every exaggeration was some kernel of truth. “Oh? Should I be worried then?” she asked, “Are you not nearly as gentlemanly as you’ve presented yourself?” 

“Yes, I believe it does,” she replied, looking impressed that he could so quickly draw up that information. She was more curious though abut the second part of his statement, the one that followed his turn back to the bar. “Were you cursed then?” she asked. It seemed to her the most likely explanation for his statement. It was a statement as well that one didn’t say aloud if they didn’t want to talk about it. 

Carrington shook his head slightly, a crooked smile on his face “No. Though I suppose that depends on whether or not you think this conversation is a means to an end?” He swirled the whiskey around the glass. “And I’m nothing more or less than I appear to be. Currently at least. The evening is still young.” 

The change in Katarina’s expression drew his attention back to her face. “It suits you,” he said quietly. She was very beautiful, and for a moment Carrington wished this was a regular bar in a regular town. And they were regular people who could have a regular night of drinks and slightly awkward conversation before he asked if he could walk her home. She would either say yes or no. And life would go on. Though life would hardly have been simpler if he’d always been human. Carrington knew that for a fact. 

He paused, drink halfway to his lips, as she asked about his current state of being. “In a way,” he nodded. “I took for granted what I had. I was greedy, and wanted more.” Carrington frowned down at the bar, drifting slightly. “And in seeking it... I ended up with nothing.” Another tiny, half-hidden smile as he thought that he hadn’t quite ended up with nothing exactly. He’d gained a daughter. And possibly a friend in the man who’d become her father. 

At that moment, the bar door swung open and a harried looking man with a bald head covered in fading tattoos stumbled in. There was a tiny lull in the chatter of conversation, but people quickly turned back to their drinks and each other as the man merely stood there, gazing animatedly around the bar. His eyes lit on Carrington, who had already spotted him.

“Bloody hell...” Carrington cursed under his breath. But he was already dropping a few bills on the bar and pushing up from the stool as the contact who’d stood him up earlier pushed through the crowds towards him. He glanced at Katarina, mouth tight in apology as the man lurched up next to him. 

“I need that money... now, Bishop. I got your stuff, just... give it to me so I can get the hell outta here...” The man looked behind him towards the door, digging in his pocket for whatever it was he’d brought. Carrington grabbed his wrist. 

“Not here. Outside.” 

“Here. Or not at all,” the man said. 

Carrington stared at the man for a long moment before holding out his hand. “Give it over.” He subtly flashed a small envelope from his other pocket. His payment. The man grinned a bit madly and slipped a dark silk pouch into Carrington’s hand. The envelope slipped into his. The tattooed man gave it a small bend, testing the thickness, and then saluted Carrington and Katarina before leaving just as he’d come. 

Katarina didn’t continue that particular thread of the conversation any further. The man’s voice had taken on a quality which suggested some deeper understanding than mere spilled drinks. Seeing as they were strangers who had met accidentally she didn’t press his privacy on the matter. 

Instead she smiled at his suggestion that she knew more than one way to tell him to leave if he wished. He was correct in this, although she would never say it so crudely. “Yes,” she reassured him, “If I wanted out of this conversation I would be long gone already. Although there would be no bodily tossing involved.” Katarina laughed as he bowed, “Careful, you’ll make a girl swoon with all that chivalry.” Her tone carried a slight teasing quality, one that not everyone would pick up on. It was . It was just subtle enough she always retained plausible deniability. 

Her compliments were perfectly genuine. Since leaving the world of ballet she rarely complimented without meaning it. She noticed that he only gave his first name and noted it without thinking too much of it. “Katarina,” she replied in kind. She didn’t worry if his compliment was genuine, although all signs pointed to yes. “I take it you are indeed here alone?” she asked. 

“Pity,” Carrington said, watching her over the rim of his glass. He didn’t mind a bit of a toss-about, mood willing. But that was obviously not what they were discussing. And Carrington didn’t yet know what to make of the fairy. Best not push his luck just yet. If at all. 

Straightening from his bow, he downed the rest of his drink. “You’d be the first,” he said sardonically. “Though I do prefer the reaction,” he told her. “It’s usually an eyeroll and a ‘fuck off, creep.’ Though a really good night is getting a drink tossed in my face.” Not that Carrington had been actively seeking company anytime in the past few months. He’d been rather occupied with other business.