#renon

1

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A few years had gone by since the castle had fallen again; maybe anywhere from one to five, human time wasn’t his strong suit anymore. You get so used to milling around while the days pass that the difference between a year and long week isn’t all that noticeable, especially when you’re old as dirt. And you get used to seeing that castle crumble. Once you’ve seen it a few times, it isn’t much of a spectacle anymore.

The demon stops walking down the tracks for a moment to smoke, but the wind puts it out. He grabs his pipe from his lips, raises it up above his head, and hesitates before letting out a defeated sigh and putting it back in his pocket.

Ah, times were easier back then that year ago— or, no, two years seems more likely. People had a reason to buy into anything he had, the threat of death was imminent because they could see it on the horizon just past the trees outside of town: death lived next door to them. It’s awful difficult to convince anyone that a cure for vampirism or a potion of healing is necessary when they don’t see the immediate reason. They don’t realize death is their neighbor all their life regardless of if Dracula is the cause of it or not. Perhaps it is better just letting life do its thing rather than trying to prevent and prepare for it all the time. That kind of thinking wouldn’t pay off his debts, though.

Renon turned around at the sound— loud metal chugging, the howling of steam, and a light bright enough to burn a spot in your eyes. He picked up his briefcase again and raised his arms out to his sides. The giant barreled on towards him— oh the suspense! The horror! This was the fun part of taking the train tracks. His face twisted into a maniacal grin as he stared it down, the wind taking his hat a few feet from him. It felt like the entire Earth was trembling beneath his feet in terror. The train was enough to blind and deafen him when it got close. Inches away from his face, hair blasted back, tie come undone, and crack in his glasses from the sheer sound alone, he dove off and down into the gravel ditch where his hat lay. The man tumbled and struck pavement, scraping a few holes into his suit, but it didn’t matter. Renon was beside himself with amusement. Just lying there in crazed laughter for a while. He, chuckling quieter now, collected himself and whatever flew off of him and began to mend his belongings; snapping his fingers would make a quick green flash over the cracks and tears and they were no longer. The most fun a demon can have is pretending to die.

—~—~—~—

The town couldn’t be too much further. Reinhardt had been riding since morning to come here and it was already late afternoon. It’s not too often that he’s called to do a job, typically he either runs into the monsters on his own or Vincent gets told about a situation first; he’s been a good help getting social connections. For some reason people never think they can call onto him directly, but today they did.

They, a wealthy family, told him frightening news of strange wolves nearly breaking into their house at night. It could be anything from werewolves, wargs, black dogs, hellhounds, but their descriptions didn’t mention a larger size or bipedal habits, so the last two were more likely. Reinhardt winced at thought that it could be those statue dogs from the garden and pinched the ridge of his nose. He had been dealing with Dracula’s leftovers for the course of a few months; unfortunately it’s not one odd week of Dracula when that castle rises, oh no, it makes sure you’re fed up with him for the whole year.

“Woah there—“ Reinhardt pulled back on the reigns and gave her a little pat “alright, Heather, there’s a stable for you for the night, come on—“ the horse let out some air from her nostrils and turned her head away from him for a while before being pleasantly convinced of her safety by the stable hand with a carrot.

“I don’t mean to bother, but might you know where the manor of Lord Curtis is? I’ve come here on a hunt for them.”

“Oh, sure, yes, they’re just down past the end of the main road,” the stable hand continued getting the horse situated for the night “it’s a large plot out there— good luck, kid.”

“Ah, thank you very much, sir.” Reinhardt took some coins out of his bag for the service. “Take care!” And left off towards the end of the road.

—~—~—~—

Crystal clear bathed in bright white moonlight stood the manor. It was marble and wood, expertly gardened, neatly fenced around the edges of the plot, and barred by a large but thin iron gate. Reinhardt paused to take it in. He stayed stock still in part because of the sheer grandeur of it and the other because he had no clue as to how to get in. The gate was locked and their letter hadn’t been sent with a key.

He hunched over looking for any kind of door knocker or bell— something alert anyone of his presence here. It proved occasionally difficult due to clouds rolling in and stamping the light out, and what with this wind and the smell in the air too it felt like it could be rain soon. Reinhardt decided it wasn’t an option to leave just to avoid waking someone and yelled. Surely someone had to be stationed out this far from the house to get the gate.

Wind whipped his hair into his eyes. The gusts were starting to get fierce now. All the trees on the property started to creak and whistle. A figure moved some short ways down the path and revealed herself by the gate.

“Is that you, Reinhardt?” The woman asked, yelling over the wind.

“Yes—“ a rumble from the sky cut him off, “yes! It’s me! Are you— Are you Lady Curtis?”

“No! I’m the maid— but you’re here at a great time!” She fiddled with a large ring of keys. “I’ll let you in— no one’s asleep yet—“

She wrenched the tall gates open, metal screeching against their hinges. Reinhardt clutched onto his whip as tightly as he could as the wind picked up yet again even harder this time. Some darker dots began to appear against the cobblestone.

“Oh dear—“ the maid rushed to get the front door “quickly, before it really starts to come down!”

Click. She finished bolting and locking before asking for Reinhardt’s coat, to which he politely accepted. The room was warmly lit, perhaps not as much as a typical day though. Lord and Lady sat tiredly on the couch and chair as their young daughter played on the floor.

“Oh thank God you’re here” he said with a relieved sigh “we’ve already had to barricade the back entrance. There’s two of them that I could see—“ the short man, gripping both armrests, slowly came up and out of his seat, “I’ve not been out much, not after what they’d done to my leg; not werewolves from all I can tell.”

The two began walking down the hall and through the kitchen, and Reinhardt feared the worst. Well, the worst aside from werewolves, second place. “So, approximately, if you can picture them… how large would you say these wolves are? And— what color?”

The Lord thought for a moment, fixing his mustache and leaning against a cabinet, “they were grey— about sheep herding sized. Unruly looking beasts, but definitely not any ordinary wolves. They seemed to have no fur nor lights to their eyes, almost like a stone carving,” he looked out the window above the counter and moved the shutters, “I’m truly sorry if this turns out to be just some old dogs with some sickness to them, but the backyard is for the kids and, well I just figured—“

“Oh no, it’s no trouble at all, sir.” Reinhardt reassured the trouble man, “It’s a serious matter regardless of how supernatural the problem ends up being. And, fortunately, I think I recognize that description— I’ll likely have it handled by morning.”

—~—~—~—

It was disappointing to see the moon covered so quickly, but the rain was nice at least. He untucked his tail from his trousers and put his hat in his lap as he sat down in the grass. It’s not like there was anyone around to see him like this anyway; pitch black midnight in the middle of a storm, you’d have to be crazy or down on your luck to be out on a night like this, and he knew those reasons quite well. Renon almost took his pocket watch out, but the rain was so heavy it’d make reading the time through wet glass awfully difficult, and so again he signs in frustration and keeps it to his pocket.

It was an interesting little town he’d found himself in. There was all the usual kinds of shops— tailor’s, a market, shoemaker, aha— a tavern. That’d be for later. But it was curious seeing it all empty. This was definitely the kind of place two steps away from becoming a city, a place of growth and bustle in the daytime for sure. He reached into his pocket again this time for a coin and flipped it. Heads: he’d stay.

How annoying it was that being a demon didn’t cure nearsightedness. He’d take his glasses off his collar and put them back on to see what other shops and stops he’d missed if they weren’t hopelessly soaked. Renon stood up and started walking aimlessly. It’d be the only way he could scout out anywhere to set up operations for the morning. As he walked, he let his mind wander towards the more philosophical things he’d been thinking about earlier in the day— or week? No, yes, the day. A demon has to ponder these things to better understand the job, though for some reason it never helped him any.

What it did help was keep him moving. Oh only the dark lord knows how much he HATED this work; it was monotonous, annoying, taxing— and for what? Never end up stuck a debtor in Hell, they’ll tell you it’s up to you to punish those who commit the same sins as yourself in life, but the real one being punished is you. Renon wanted nothing more than a nice, warm, cozy room and to laze away forever. Hell had other plans— and a terrible economy.

His tail he let out waving around behind him before it fell into a slow swishing motion just above the street. It soon came up again and wrapped around his wrist after dragging straight into a large puddle. He yawned, hat in hand, and scratched a little around his very small horns. It was then that he realized he had walked himself way far out of the shopping district and out to the larger residential area, which was perfectly pointed out to him by what looked to be through the rain and the nearsightedness a tall manor some square feet away on a large land plot at the top of a hill. Soon after standing a bit in this realization, he heard sounds of violent, but familiar commotion.

“That couldn’t be…” he used a contract to teleport through the fence, and cursed to himself as it got wet “… no I’m not mistaken— that’s the sound of a whip.”

—~—~—~—

“AHHhhgh—“ Reinhardt gritted his teeth in pain and took running to the corner of the back porch. That damn dog got him good— right across the collarbone. He hesitated then slowly lifted his shoulder, relieved that he was able to move it properly without much pain. Nothing was broken.

But he couldn’t hide behind the wall for much longer, no, those two would be on his scent again in no time. Reinhardt frantically rummaged through the bag on his belt— he took out a simple cloth bandage and a small brown vial, his hands shook as he turned the lid and brushed a small amount on the cloth. He winced as it made contact with the cuts. Think think think. What available in this backyard or his toolset would work against something composed entirely of stone? The hedge maze hellhounds weren’t the typical sort; most tend to manifest either in a incorporeal spiritual form or that of flesh and blood, but it was rare to see one in a vessel of marble like this. And here he was standing off with two of them, no less.

It’d be much easier if he had been dealing with this in the castle. You wouldn’t have to worry as much about harming anyone else in the process, the issue could probably be solved with some kind of bait and a powerful explosive. But here? Not a chance, all around him for miles was residential, it’s far too likely that the blast would injure or kill someone, not even mentioning the shrapnel and property damage. All his whip was doing to them was temporarily incapacitating them…

He dashed down the steps at the heavy pattering sound of paws and claws coming from within the garden. There were a couple places he could go: either to the right or left flower beds and topiaries or straight ahead to the center pagoda. Reinhardt didn’t get much of a choice when one hound peaked its glowing eyes out of the bushes to the right of him, and the other flashed its glistening teeth through the shrubs on the left. The grass squeaked and squished under his boots. Damn, if he made it there he’d most certainly be surrounded. The hounds yowled, one inches away from his leg. Right at the entrance of the pagoda, Reinhardt made a swift, sharp turn to the left, leaving the dogs to barrel into and splinter the wooden lattice detailing of its railings, and headed back for the porch. Think think think, god dammit! His heartbeat drowned out every idea that came to mind.

Clouds rolled above them in a wild fervor. Rain would last the whole night, maybe bleed into next morning. With winds and the sheer velocity of the downpour like this, it felt like storms would last forever in some biblical end of times sort of way. He could barely make out the details through the muddy stream and the dark of the night didn’t do it any favors. Just as he peaked across the plot from around the edge the sky was lit up blindingly for a brief flash; Reinhardt covered his ears. Deep bellowing roars split the air open and left with it a faint smell of ash.

“That’s it—!” he gripped the vampire killer tightly. This manor’s plot of land was substantial— on the smaller side compared to most he’d seen due to how densely populated the town was— but still it was far enough from the house itself and the other plots surrounding it to survive one strike of lighting. Now how to get them both at the same time? Two birds with one stone, two hounds with one bolt? The shadow of the pagoda loomed over the yard.

—~—~—~—

Renon was halted in his pursuit through the front rose bushes by a sharp, crackling boom from the backyard plot. He threw his hands to his hat and swore, thorns ripping his coat in the process. Ugh, the poor demon missed all the action! It was all he came for in the first place. What a waste. He swished a leg forward, got caught on a branch, and barreled into a mud puddle on the other side, his tail failing above him like a ribbon.

He collected his glasses, wrenched his shoe free, and propped himself up a couple paces away from the bush. With one arm leaning against the house, he snapped his fingers and the suit reverted to what it was once again. The demon sighed harshly once he realized he’d left his briefcase outside the gate.

“Renon?” Horror washed over him as he realized Reinhardt Schneider had been there to see the whole ordeal. He couldn’t see him through all this rain— or the nearsightedness. “What brings you here? And, more broadly, what’s brought you out of hell?”

“Ah—“ he fumbled to keep his refined, dignified sales voice up, “two things: you and debt.”

“I’m not buying anything if that’s what you’re here about—“

“No, no! I wasn’t looking for you specifically. I happened to be in town for business and overheard the, well, commotion you were having back there. I could tell by the sounds it was you— whip cracking and all— no one else uses a whip primarily, especially not any other hunters actually— It had me a little side tracked. What a pleasant coincidence! You see, I—“

“I’m really not buying anything, thank you.”

“Well…” Renon dropped the act and his smile, “You have to admit it was worth a try, at least.”

Reinhardt turned around and headed back to the backyard. How rude of him to leave like that without any other word. But he’s well within his right to do so— the customer is always right as they say. Renon glared at the rosebush.

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1/?/ (place for chapter navigation laterrrr)

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(Hehehehe and so this is part one :3c. I’ll edit this for chapter selection later!

Please! Tell me if anything is formatted weird or anything! I copy pasted this from my notes on my phone, so it might be a little oddly spaced and I can’t tell if it is!