Gabe (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
auguris) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
rainbowfic2013-03-30 07:28 pm
auguris) wrote in rainbowfic2013-03-30 07:28 pm
Entry tags:
Lawn Green 12, Fire Opal 5, Sulphur 11
Name: auguris
'verse: Ghost Sight
Story: Paole II
Colors: Lawn Green 12. the longest day; Fire Opal 5. Ravenous; Sulphur 11. Possession
Supplies and Styles: n/a
Word Count: 3800
Rating: R
Warnings: Mild Gore
Summary/Notes: Part I; Mitchell and Broker continue the investigation. (Wow this took way longer than necessary.)
Mitchell spent the next few days fielding excited texts from Len and increasingly annoyed voicemails from Gavril, spending every ounce of will he had towards not asking Broker if he'd received permission from the city yet, and staring at the blank screen that failed to turn into his column on Strange Odors from Beyond.
(He blamed Hayman for giving him the horrible title, but mostly he blamed himself for not saying no.)
Broker finally called him with the go-ahead, and Mitchell's relief overrode his annoyance at having to meet at dusk. He arrived early, Len in tow. Gavril met them at the gate, scowling.
"Is this nonsense really necessary?"
Mitchell put up his hands. "This haunting is too big for me to handle, and my associate can't pass up the opportunity to film in an actual graveyard."
"I suppose," Gavril sighed. "It is a rare opportunity. However I am not convinced that your associate displays proper respect for the dead."
"Wizards like us spend out entire lives working with the dead. I saw my first ghost when I was six, and began formal training when I was ten. Broker started young as well. He does have respect for the dead – what you see on his show is part of the entertainment."
Gavril crossed her arms. "We'll see."
Mitchell leaned against the trunk of his car, twirling his keyring around one finger. Len sat next to him, her heels on the bumper. She leaned into him and murmured, "You told me he's pretty much a complete dick."
Mitchell twisted his mouth. "No I didn't." It's called tough love. "He's just a jerk."
Len tugged at a loose thread on her cuff. "That's the same thing." She elbowed Mitchell. "Maybe you just don't like the competition, huh?"
He let the keys land in his palm and closed his fingers. "The city is bigger than I could handle on my own, even if I was still with the Assembly. Broker likes to take on the shiny jobs that look good on film. I pick at the quieter ones."
"And put them in the paper," Len said with a grin. "Again: the same thing."
Broker's black van appeared at the crest of the hill. Mitchell raised a hand in greeting; Len practically vibrated beside him.
"Relax."
"I could be famous on the internet! And not in a creepy porn way! Who's the scruffy guy with him?"
Pale, red-headed Mortimer Ayers pulled himself out of the passenger's side as Broker shut off the engine. "His assistant."
Gavril stepped around Ayers and planted herself in front of Broker. "Mr. Broker. I understand that you are an accomplished exorcist and somewhat famous among certain circles, but that does not mean I will allow you to degrade these old bones, forgotten may they be."
Broker smiled wide and offered his hand. "I understand completely, Miss…?"
Gavril raised her brows. "Gavril. Xenia Gavril. I—"
"Ah, the caretaker. I can assure you Miss Gavril, I have no intention of disturbing the resting dead. It's the active dead I'm here for." He clapped her on the shoulder. "Don't let a little showmanship fool you; I'm a professional."
"Oh, he's smooth," Len murmured.
"Shut up," Mitchell muttered. He double-checked that his car was warded and locked while a red-face Gavril unlocked the gate.
"Why is she here?" Broker muttered.
"Gavril? You spoke to her. You try and argue her out of it."
Len elbowed Mitchell aside and stuck her hand out. "Hi! I'm Len Abendroth and I completely and absolutely love your show. If there's anything I can do to help tonight, anything at all, please don't hesitate to ask."
Broker grinned at Len, chuckling a little. "Thank you, I'm always glad to hear from my fans. I think we've got it, unless you‘d like to help Mort with our gear."
"I can do that! I can definitely do that." She wagged her eyebrows at Mitchell, who offered his best are you SERIOUS look before heading through the gate. If Len wanted to haul around heavy, expensive equipment, he wasn't going to stop her.
Gavril led the way once more. About halfway to the site, Broker held Mitchell back until they were out of earshot. "What is she?"
Mitchell blinked at him. "Gavril?"
"You know who I mean."
"She's my friend. Her name is Len, I think she told you."
Broker crossed his arms. "Come on Mitch, you know what I mean. She can't be human, she's not one of us, she has no glamour, and she's not green. I know Krixos has a lot of none of the aboves, but I haven't come across someone like her." He shrugged. "She's kind of…"
"Startlingly chipper and smarter than both of us?" Mitchell shoved his hands in his pockets. "You want to know so bad, ask her."
Broker's expression hardened. "She feels bad. Like…" He waved his hand. "Like a ghost. Sort of. I don't know how to describe it. You ever meet Deyjarl Ventufere?"
Mitchell shrugged. "Once, when I reached Adept. Why?"
"The Deyjarl feels a little… dead. Due to her constant dealings with the dead. I think we all end up like that," he added quietly. "But your friend isn't even a wizard, nevermind a Seer, so what gives?"
Mitchell chewed his lip. He'd known Len so long he'd gotten used to what her presence felt like against his magic. "Len is a dhamphir."
"What!" Broker hissed. "Lady and Her… I thought you were joking about the vampire ghost!" Broker wiped his mouth. "Is she under the threshold?"
"Of course she is. You think I'd hang around someone who wanted to eat me?"
"You're sleeping with a guy who eats magic."
"Not magical people--"
"Which is by choice, not by default."
Mitchell straightened. "Really? You're going to pull out the ‘barely civilized' argument? I know you're from some backwater nowhere, but you've been living here long enough to know better."
Broker reddened. "I—forget it, this isn't the point. Vampires don't leave ghosts, Mitchell. They're already dead." Broker took Mitchell by the shoulder, stopping him entirely. "You know what a vampire is, right? Not the stories, but what they actually are?"
Mitchell opened him mouth, then shut it and shook his head. "I guess I don't."
Broker's gaze bore into him. "They – us, our people, in the old days -- took a living person, emptied their body, and replaced it with something else." Broker glanced around. "If there are records of what the something else is they're locked up tight. The one time I asked Master Vider about it he told me never to ask again."
Mitchell stepped back, arms folded tight. "So if this is a former vampire, then it's…"
"It's not a person," Broker finished when Mitchell couldn't. "I don't know what it is."
Mitchell pushed back his hair. "It feels like a haunting. And I'm certain we're dealing with a dead spot as well." He checked over his shoulder: Len and the others were pretty far ahead. "So what do we do?"
Broker sighed. "I don't know."
"What are you doing back there?" Len called. "Super-secret Seer stuff?"
Mitchell couldn't help but smile. "Not telling," he called back. To Broker he said, "Should we tell them?"
"No. The last thing we need is it feeding off their fear before we even know what we're dealing with."
The tomb didn't look any better in the waning sunlight. Black mist -- thicker than he remembered -- coiled from the ground, dissipating at about waist height. Oddly shaped shadows lay across the cracked earth; Mitchell turned a shudder into a shrug, but Broker didn't notice either way.
Broker walked the perimeter, a frown planted on his face. Len pulled several devices from the bags, most of which Mitchell recognized from his work with the police – a standard EMF reader, what was probably an EVP recorder, an infrared thermometer – while Ayers set up the camera.
"How does it work?" Gavril asked Ayers.
"It's charmed. One of Broker's buddies did it, you know." A look passed between Gavril and Ayers. "I have no idea how it works, but it does. Here, look."
Gavril stepped back, eyes wide. "That's what a haunting looks like?"
"This one's pretty bad," Mitchell cut in. "It's been here too long. When a ghost gets hold of a place…" He shrugged. "You saw."
"The other side slips through," Broker added as he joined them. "Like water through a leaky hose. Gavril, am I correct in assuming you don't want much screen time? Hold off to the side with Mitch. Len, a question. Do you want to play up your fangy side or ignore it?"
Len's face lost what little color it had. "You want me to… tell, oh everyone that I'm part people-eater?"
Broker put up his hands. "Look, kid, these are people who watch me aggravate and destroy ghosts twice a month. They'll love it. Besides, you're cute."
Her color returned with reinforcements. "Well, if it's because I'm cute. What do you want me to do?"
Mitchell stood off to the side, nodding to Gavril. She stood with her arms crossed as Len explained their location to Broker's viewers.
"I suppose you find me old-fashioned," she murmured.
"I do?"
"For worrying about your friend. No one else appears to mind. She certainly doesn't seem dangerous."
He snorted. "Broker minds, believe me. I guess Ayers is focussed on his work. He wouldn't have noticed if Broker hadn't opened his stupid mouth."
Gavril furrowed her brow. "Why not?"
Mitchell shifted. Should he? "Do you have a wizard in your family line?"
Gavril stared at him, surprise morphing into disquiet. "Several generations back."
"There you go." She didn't respond. "It doesn't up and disappear. You're not going to do spellwork any--"
"I'm not a witch!" Gavril hissed. They both glanced at the other three; Ayers gave them a Look.
"No, you're not. But you still have--"
Gavril put up a hand, turning her glare to the tomb. "Do you hear that?"
Mitchell followed her gaze, shaking his head. "There's nothing--"
"There is." She strode towards the tomb entrance; Mitchell shot a look at Broker, who was too busy fixing Len's hair to notice. He followed behind Gavril, grabbing at her to pull her back. She shook him off, gripped the ornate stone handle, and pulled.
Broker finally noticed: "What the hells are you doing?"
Gavril shook her head. "Can't you hear it?"
"Gavril, stop--" Mitchell tried to close the door again, but she slipped inside first. Mitchell stared into the black, rubbing his fingers against his palms, before darting in after her.
Ice crawled down his throat, settling into his stomach and tearing into his lungs. He could only just see -- Gavril, draped over the sarcophagus, not moving. He stumbled down the stone steps, falling to his hands and knees. He dragged his body up into a kneel, drawing enough warmth from inside himself to breath again. His magic shimmered in the dark, spilling across his skin in an automatic bodyward.
Gavril arched, her back bending unnaturally, her limbs jerking. She fell to the floor with a clatter, her ragged breathing turning to a moan. Her body jerked again, now kneeling, her arms stretched back behind her, her head turned to the side. Something cracked, louder than the roaring in his ears, and her body jerked to a stand, swaying on her feet.
Warm arms encircled his chest and he was moving backwards, his heels catching on the steps. Someone was talking close to his ear, a deep male rumble, not Cagri but someone he knew. Orange light blurred as he moved his head, trying to raise his arm to point, to warn them; something was terribly, horribly wrong, he could feel it in his bones, something was in there--
Someone else's magic surged into his mouth and he choked, spat it back out and shoved the other away, fingers scrabbling at the arm still holding him in place. The orange swirls slowed, solidified and he was staring at the tomb, from the outside, lit up by Broker's forsaken mood lighting and--
"Lady drown me Mitchell come back you complete idiot Tamsin is going to kill me--"
That was Broker, Broker's voice and Broker's arm and Mitchell shut his eyes, swallowing the panic back down. He straightened, steadied his legs, and Broker let him go; Mitchell stumbled and Broker grabbed his arm, kept him standing. Mitchell turned, forced his trembling limbs to cooperate, made himself breath in warm air, made himself think alive, alive, I am alive and met Broker's worried, fearful gaze.
I don't even like you, came unbidden and thankfully his mouth wasn't quite working yet because his brain-to-speech filter wasn't, either, and all that came out was a wordless grunt.
"Gavril," he managed, coughing, and Broker shook his head. Mitchell turned back to the tomb as it happened: she stumbled through the doorway, her eyes wide and bright -- not bright with life but like a candle, glowing and flickering.
"No," Len started, and Gavril looked to her, and then the mostly-human woman moved faster than Mitchell could follow and Len fell to the ground with a cry and Broker shouted wordlessly, magic pouring from him and coiling around Gavril, slipping like oil on water until Mitchell threw what he could muster, his own red-black power fortifying blue-black and Gavril shrieked like a surprised cat.
She stumbled and Broker followed. Mitchell came to a somewhat controlled fall by Len's side, wrapping his arms around her as Broker had done for him only a moment ago.
"That's what I am," she whispered, hot breath spilling over his neck as he wrapped his magic around them both. Shit, Ayers, where was -- but the red head was standing behind the Ladyforsaken camera still filming this and Mitchell saved that for later because he didn't have time for fury at the moment but he sure as hells would later--
Then Ayers came around and bashed Gavril's head in with a baseball bat. Her entire body shuddered, her face snapping towards him, teeth gnashing. Ayers reeled back and she came for him and then Broker--
--then Broker was in two places at once.
Mitchell blinked; his regular vision and his Sight saw Broker separately, the first Broker's physical self and the second his -- his soul? A projection of his self, tethered to his body by tendrils of sparkling blue-green and Gavril cackled, grasping one of those tethers and snapping it in half.
Mitchell moved as Broker screamed; he tackled Gavril, his elbow in her gut, and she grinned wide, wider than a human mouth could, her jaw cracking. "Move!" Ayers shouted and Mitchell rolled away as the bat came down on her open mouth. She grabbed the bat and tossed it aside, Ayers falling off balance. She leapt onto him, shrieking laughter, and they went tumbling to the ground.
deadspot, Broker's projection said. Mitchell shook his head. push her through
Mitchell breathed in. If a deadspot was a melding of the here and there and if they were in the middle of a deadspot then they were both here and there.
Push her through.
Oh.
Mitchell closed his eyes and let himself See; the tomb fell away, Ayers and Len and Broker's and Gavril's bodies vanished, the orange light bled out.
Gray and black fog rolled in, mixing, climbing to his knees. He moved as if treading water; Gavril's -- no, it's, the vampire's self, whatever it really was, faced him slowly, a black shifting mass of... he didn't know what to call it, an absence of light, a nothingness; it turned to him, eyeless and mouthless but he could feel it.
deathlord, it said, drawing the word out, laughing around it. Broker's blue-black projection shimmered, moving with Mitchell, and he and this part of Broker reached the vampire at the same time.
He felt water lapping at his feet.
They pushed and even as it fell it laughed, dropping into the fog and vanishing with the sound of a pebble falling into water.
The mist swirled around them, following the vampire as water flowing down a drain. back, Broker said, and Mitchell had to force his eyes open.
Len pushed Gavril's body off of Ayers, clamping her hand over his neck. Mitchell heard a crack and Broker sobbed as he snapped back into himself.
Mitchell breathed out.
Broker curled up, shoving his fist into his mouth to muffle broken sobbing. Len stared at Mitchell, blood seeping through her fingers, Ayers bleeding out-- no, her hand was over his shoulder, not his neck.
Gavril didn't move.
Mitchell pulled out his phone as he moved to Broker's side. The other man shuddered as Mitchell pulled him to his chest. "I'm calling Tam."
*
Mitchell stood beside his sister, watching the ambulance drive away. Blue and red lights flashed over her face; Broker sat in the back of her sleek black four door, head bowed, hands wrapped around a foam cup. Len sat on the trunk, a blanket wrapped around her shoulders, silent but for her breathing.
"Disappointed isn't a strong enough word," Tam said, arms crossed. Mitchell didn't look at her. "Couldn't get a Master to help, of course not, you're both too fucking stubborn for that--"
"I didn't know it would... neither of us knew."
"You could have died." Tam shook her head. "All of you. You're lucky it was only Gavril. Do you understand me? I'm telling you you're lucky only one person died tonight."
"Broker--"
"Knows better! You know better! The only reason I'm not yelling at the both of you..." She gestured towards Broker. "What the hells happened to him?"
Mitchell chewed his knuckle. Projecting wasn't… entirely forbidden, but it was frowned upon. Especially for Seers. "We were dealing with a deadspot, you know the dead are stronger then. It hit him harder that he was expecting, that's all."
Tam frowned. "You seem all right." Was that an accusation, or relief? A little of both, maybe. Mitchell glanced back at Broker.
"Let me know if you need anything."
"I can take care of him, Mitch. Take your friend home. Get some rest."
*
Len said nothing on the ride home, but when he pulled up to her apartment building she stayed where she was. Mitchell shut the engine off.
"I'm a monster," Len said eventually.
"No you're not," Mitchell said. "You have the paperwork to prove it."
She laughed. "That thing was my ancestor, you know? That's what I come from. I don't even know what it is."
"Yeah, well one of my ancestors made it, so I think we're even."
Sighing she asked, "What do you do afterwards?"
"After a bad one like this? Sleep. Then spend some time with Cagri. Get him to cook for me. Try not to think too much about it."
"So: Sleep, fuck, eat." Mitchell laughed. "Think I can handle that."
She got out of the car as he turned the key, and waved him off as he drove away.
*
He was half asleep by the time he opened his front door. He dropped his keys on the end table and shoved his shoes off, sagging into the door.
The kitchen light was on. He stood up straight, calling out, "Cag?" No answer. He took the three steps to the doorway, pulling his magic up -- dragging it, more like -- and rushed into the room, an angry shout dying on his lips.
A woman sat at his small table, hands folded in front of her. A man stood by the window, turning towards him. They both wore uniform black trousers and jacket, red sash knotted over the left shoulder, the spiral triskele of the Lady's Court pinned to the knot.
He let his magic slip back into his body, mouth dry. The Court was in his kitchen.
"Mitchell Pathing," the woman said, indicating the chair across from her. She could have been anyone with her black hair and olive skin, but the scar on her face was familiar.
Harper had advised him, back in university, not to tell the cops you knew what you had done wrong -- just in case they were after you for something else, because then they had you for two counts. So instead of asking if they were there about Gavril he said, "Have we met?"
The woman's expression didn't change. "Canan Weccear. I attended your mother's funeral."
"That was subtle," Mitchell said before he could stop himself. Weccear's face twitched.
"What happened tonight, Mr. Pathing? Why is Xenia Gavril dead?" She drew a notebook from her jacket.
Mitchell pressed his sweaty palms against his knees. "She was possessed by the ghost of a vampire. Or… whatever a vampire leaves behind when it dies. I'm honestly not sure. But it possessed her, and when we exorcised it she didn't return to her body."
Weccear nodded as she wrote. It she was at all surprised by 'vampire', it didn't show. "And how did you come to discover this haunting?"
"A friend of mine--"
"Does this friend have a name?"
Mitchell gripped his knees. "Len Abendroth."
"And how did she come to know of this?"
"She said it was an old family problem." Weccear's gaze bore into him. "She's under the threshold."
Weccear had him go over the whole thing, from Len binging it up to watching the ambulance drive away. He skipped the bit about Broker Projecting -- that was up to him to tell the Court, not Mitchell.
The courtier closed her notebook. "If the autopsy results corroborate your story, you will not hear from us again. Not concerning this incident, at the least."
"How many vampire ghosts do you think there are in Krixos?"
Her brows rose. "Mind yourself, Seer. You must know the precarious situation you are in; you would be a fool, otherwise."
The other courtier didn't even look at him.
He didn't bother letting them out; they had let themselves in, they knew where the door was. He wiped a hand over his face, finally standing when he heard the door click. He locked it before dragging himself to his bed, sending Tam a quick text:
Court was here. Going to sleep. Talk in the morning.
And he meant it, he did, but every time he closed his eyes he saw the flickering flame in Gavril's eye sockets.
auguris'verse: Ghost Sight
Story: Paole II
Colors: Lawn Green 12. the longest day; Fire Opal 5. Ravenous; Sulphur 11. Possession
Supplies and Styles: n/a
Word Count: 3800
Rating: R
Warnings: Mild Gore
Summary/Notes: Part I; Mitchell and Broker continue the investigation. (Wow this took way longer than necessary.)
Mitchell spent the next few days fielding excited texts from Len and increasingly annoyed voicemails from Gavril, spending every ounce of will he had towards not asking Broker if he'd received permission from the city yet, and staring at the blank screen that failed to turn into his column on Strange Odors from Beyond.
(He blamed Hayman for giving him the horrible title, but mostly he blamed himself for not saying no.)
Broker finally called him with the go-ahead, and Mitchell's relief overrode his annoyance at having to meet at dusk. He arrived early, Len in tow. Gavril met them at the gate, scowling.
"Is this nonsense really necessary?"
Mitchell put up his hands. "This haunting is too big for me to handle, and my associate can't pass up the opportunity to film in an actual graveyard."
"I suppose," Gavril sighed. "It is a rare opportunity. However I am not convinced that your associate displays proper respect for the dead."
"Wizards like us spend out entire lives working with the dead. I saw my first ghost when I was six, and began formal training when I was ten. Broker started young as well. He does have respect for the dead – what you see on his show is part of the entertainment."
Gavril crossed her arms. "We'll see."
Mitchell leaned against the trunk of his car, twirling his keyring around one finger. Len sat next to him, her heels on the bumper. She leaned into him and murmured, "You told me he's pretty much a complete dick."
Mitchell twisted his mouth. "No I didn't." It's called tough love. "He's just a jerk."
Len tugged at a loose thread on her cuff. "That's the same thing." She elbowed Mitchell. "Maybe you just don't like the competition, huh?"
He let the keys land in his palm and closed his fingers. "The city is bigger than I could handle on my own, even if I was still with the Assembly. Broker likes to take on the shiny jobs that look good on film. I pick at the quieter ones."
"And put them in the paper," Len said with a grin. "Again: the same thing."
Broker's black van appeared at the crest of the hill. Mitchell raised a hand in greeting; Len practically vibrated beside him.
"Relax."
"I could be famous on the internet! And not in a creepy porn way! Who's the scruffy guy with him?"
Pale, red-headed Mortimer Ayers pulled himself out of the passenger's side as Broker shut off the engine. "His assistant."
Gavril stepped around Ayers and planted herself in front of Broker. "Mr. Broker. I understand that you are an accomplished exorcist and somewhat famous among certain circles, but that does not mean I will allow you to degrade these old bones, forgotten may they be."
Broker smiled wide and offered his hand. "I understand completely, Miss…?"
Gavril raised her brows. "Gavril. Xenia Gavril. I—"
"Ah, the caretaker. I can assure you Miss Gavril, I have no intention of disturbing the resting dead. It's the active dead I'm here for." He clapped her on the shoulder. "Don't let a little showmanship fool you; I'm a professional."
"Oh, he's smooth," Len murmured.
"Shut up," Mitchell muttered. He double-checked that his car was warded and locked while a red-face Gavril unlocked the gate.
"Why is she here?" Broker muttered.
"Gavril? You spoke to her. You try and argue her out of it."
Len elbowed Mitchell aside and stuck her hand out. "Hi! I'm Len Abendroth and I completely and absolutely love your show. If there's anything I can do to help tonight, anything at all, please don't hesitate to ask."
Broker grinned at Len, chuckling a little. "Thank you, I'm always glad to hear from my fans. I think we've got it, unless you‘d like to help Mort with our gear."
"I can do that! I can definitely do that." She wagged her eyebrows at Mitchell, who offered his best are you SERIOUS look before heading through the gate. If Len wanted to haul around heavy, expensive equipment, he wasn't going to stop her.
Gavril led the way once more. About halfway to the site, Broker held Mitchell back until they were out of earshot. "What is she?"
Mitchell blinked at him. "Gavril?"
"You know who I mean."
"She's my friend. Her name is Len, I think she told you."
Broker crossed his arms. "Come on Mitch, you know what I mean. She can't be human, she's not one of us, she has no glamour, and she's not green. I know Krixos has a lot of none of the aboves, but I haven't come across someone like her." He shrugged. "She's kind of…"
"Startlingly chipper and smarter than both of us?" Mitchell shoved his hands in his pockets. "You want to know so bad, ask her."
Broker's expression hardened. "She feels bad. Like…" He waved his hand. "Like a ghost. Sort of. I don't know how to describe it. You ever meet Deyjarl Ventufere?"
Mitchell shrugged. "Once, when I reached Adept. Why?"
"The Deyjarl feels a little… dead. Due to her constant dealings with the dead. I think we all end up like that," he added quietly. "But your friend isn't even a wizard, nevermind a Seer, so what gives?"
Mitchell chewed his lip. He'd known Len so long he'd gotten used to what her presence felt like against his magic. "Len is a dhamphir."
"What!" Broker hissed. "Lady and Her… I thought you were joking about the vampire ghost!" Broker wiped his mouth. "Is she under the threshold?"
"Of course she is. You think I'd hang around someone who wanted to eat me?"
"You're sleeping with a guy who eats magic."
"Not magical people--"
"Which is by choice, not by default."
Mitchell straightened. "Really? You're going to pull out the ‘barely civilized' argument? I know you're from some backwater nowhere, but you've been living here long enough to know better."
Broker reddened. "I—forget it, this isn't the point. Vampires don't leave ghosts, Mitchell. They're already dead." Broker took Mitchell by the shoulder, stopping him entirely. "You know what a vampire is, right? Not the stories, but what they actually are?"
Mitchell opened him mouth, then shut it and shook his head. "I guess I don't."
Broker's gaze bore into him. "They – us, our people, in the old days -- took a living person, emptied their body, and replaced it with something else." Broker glanced around. "If there are records of what the something else is they're locked up tight. The one time I asked Master Vider about it he told me never to ask again."
Mitchell stepped back, arms folded tight. "So if this is a former vampire, then it's…"
"It's not a person," Broker finished when Mitchell couldn't. "I don't know what it is."
Mitchell pushed back his hair. "It feels like a haunting. And I'm certain we're dealing with a dead spot as well." He checked over his shoulder: Len and the others were pretty far ahead. "So what do we do?"
Broker sighed. "I don't know."
"What are you doing back there?" Len called. "Super-secret Seer stuff?"
Mitchell couldn't help but smile. "Not telling," he called back. To Broker he said, "Should we tell them?"
"No. The last thing we need is it feeding off their fear before we even know what we're dealing with."
The tomb didn't look any better in the waning sunlight. Black mist -- thicker than he remembered -- coiled from the ground, dissipating at about waist height. Oddly shaped shadows lay across the cracked earth; Mitchell turned a shudder into a shrug, but Broker didn't notice either way.
Broker walked the perimeter, a frown planted on his face. Len pulled several devices from the bags, most of which Mitchell recognized from his work with the police – a standard EMF reader, what was probably an EVP recorder, an infrared thermometer – while Ayers set up the camera.
"How does it work?" Gavril asked Ayers.
"It's charmed. One of Broker's buddies did it, you know." A look passed between Gavril and Ayers. "I have no idea how it works, but it does. Here, look."
Gavril stepped back, eyes wide. "That's what a haunting looks like?"
"This one's pretty bad," Mitchell cut in. "It's been here too long. When a ghost gets hold of a place…" He shrugged. "You saw."
"The other side slips through," Broker added as he joined them. "Like water through a leaky hose. Gavril, am I correct in assuming you don't want much screen time? Hold off to the side with Mitch. Len, a question. Do you want to play up your fangy side or ignore it?"
Len's face lost what little color it had. "You want me to… tell, oh everyone that I'm part people-eater?"
Broker put up his hands. "Look, kid, these are people who watch me aggravate and destroy ghosts twice a month. They'll love it. Besides, you're cute."
Her color returned with reinforcements. "Well, if it's because I'm cute. What do you want me to do?"
Mitchell stood off to the side, nodding to Gavril. She stood with her arms crossed as Len explained their location to Broker's viewers.
"I suppose you find me old-fashioned," she murmured.
"I do?"
"For worrying about your friend. No one else appears to mind. She certainly doesn't seem dangerous."
He snorted. "Broker minds, believe me. I guess Ayers is focussed on his work. He wouldn't have noticed if Broker hadn't opened his stupid mouth."
Gavril furrowed her brow. "Why not?"
Mitchell shifted. Should he? "Do you have a wizard in your family line?"
Gavril stared at him, surprise morphing into disquiet. "Several generations back."
"There you go." She didn't respond. "It doesn't up and disappear. You're not going to do spellwork any--"
"I'm not a witch!" Gavril hissed. They both glanced at the other three; Ayers gave them a Look.
"No, you're not. But you still have--"
Gavril put up a hand, turning her glare to the tomb. "Do you hear that?"
Mitchell followed her gaze, shaking his head. "There's nothing--"
"There is." She strode towards the tomb entrance; Mitchell shot a look at Broker, who was too busy fixing Len's hair to notice. He followed behind Gavril, grabbing at her to pull her back. She shook him off, gripped the ornate stone handle, and pulled.
Broker finally noticed: "What the hells are you doing?"
Gavril shook her head. "Can't you hear it?"
"Gavril, stop--" Mitchell tried to close the door again, but she slipped inside first. Mitchell stared into the black, rubbing his fingers against his palms, before darting in after her.
Ice crawled down his throat, settling into his stomach and tearing into his lungs. He could only just see -- Gavril, draped over the sarcophagus, not moving. He stumbled down the stone steps, falling to his hands and knees. He dragged his body up into a kneel, drawing enough warmth from inside himself to breath again. His magic shimmered in the dark, spilling across his skin in an automatic bodyward.
Gavril arched, her back bending unnaturally, her limbs jerking. She fell to the floor with a clatter, her ragged breathing turning to a moan. Her body jerked again, now kneeling, her arms stretched back behind her, her head turned to the side. Something cracked, louder than the roaring in his ears, and her body jerked to a stand, swaying on her feet.
Warm arms encircled his chest and he was moving backwards, his heels catching on the steps. Someone was talking close to his ear, a deep male rumble, not Cagri but someone he knew. Orange light blurred as he moved his head, trying to raise his arm to point, to warn them; something was terribly, horribly wrong, he could feel it in his bones, something was in there--
Someone else's magic surged into his mouth and he choked, spat it back out and shoved the other away, fingers scrabbling at the arm still holding him in place. The orange swirls slowed, solidified and he was staring at the tomb, from the outside, lit up by Broker's forsaken mood lighting and--
"Lady drown me Mitchell come back you complete idiot Tamsin is going to kill me--"
That was Broker, Broker's voice and Broker's arm and Mitchell shut his eyes, swallowing the panic back down. He straightened, steadied his legs, and Broker let him go; Mitchell stumbled and Broker grabbed his arm, kept him standing. Mitchell turned, forced his trembling limbs to cooperate, made himself breath in warm air, made himself think alive, alive, I am alive and met Broker's worried, fearful gaze.
I don't even like you, came unbidden and thankfully his mouth wasn't quite working yet because his brain-to-speech filter wasn't, either, and all that came out was a wordless grunt.
"Gavril," he managed, coughing, and Broker shook his head. Mitchell turned back to the tomb as it happened: she stumbled through the doorway, her eyes wide and bright -- not bright with life but like a candle, glowing and flickering.
"No," Len started, and Gavril looked to her, and then the mostly-human woman moved faster than Mitchell could follow and Len fell to the ground with a cry and Broker shouted wordlessly, magic pouring from him and coiling around Gavril, slipping like oil on water until Mitchell threw what he could muster, his own red-black power fortifying blue-black and Gavril shrieked like a surprised cat.
She stumbled and Broker followed. Mitchell came to a somewhat controlled fall by Len's side, wrapping his arms around her as Broker had done for him only a moment ago.
"That's what I am," she whispered, hot breath spilling over his neck as he wrapped his magic around them both. Shit, Ayers, where was -- but the red head was standing behind the Ladyforsaken camera still filming this and Mitchell saved that for later because he didn't have time for fury at the moment but he sure as hells would later--
Then Ayers came around and bashed Gavril's head in with a baseball bat. Her entire body shuddered, her face snapping towards him, teeth gnashing. Ayers reeled back and she came for him and then Broker--
--then Broker was in two places at once.
Mitchell blinked; his regular vision and his Sight saw Broker separately, the first Broker's physical self and the second his -- his soul? A projection of his self, tethered to his body by tendrils of sparkling blue-green and Gavril cackled, grasping one of those tethers and snapping it in half.
Mitchell moved as Broker screamed; he tackled Gavril, his elbow in her gut, and she grinned wide, wider than a human mouth could, her jaw cracking. "Move!" Ayers shouted and Mitchell rolled away as the bat came down on her open mouth. She grabbed the bat and tossed it aside, Ayers falling off balance. She leapt onto him, shrieking laughter, and they went tumbling to the ground.
deadspot, Broker's projection said. Mitchell shook his head. push her through
Mitchell breathed in. If a deadspot was a melding of the here and there and if they were in the middle of a deadspot then they were both here and there.
Push her through.
Oh.
Mitchell closed his eyes and let himself See; the tomb fell away, Ayers and Len and Broker's and Gavril's bodies vanished, the orange light bled out.
Gray and black fog rolled in, mixing, climbing to his knees. He moved as if treading water; Gavril's -- no, it's, the vampire's self, whatever it really was, faced him slowly, a black shifting mass of... he didn't know what to call it, an absence of light, a nothingness; it turned to him, eyeless and mouthless but he could feel it.
deathlord, it said, drawing the word out, laughing around it. Broker's blue-black projection shimmered, moving with Mitchell, and he and this part of Broker reached the vampire at the same time.
He felt water lapping at his feet.
They pushed and even as it fell it laughed, dropping into the fog and vanishing with the sound of a pebble falling into water.
The mist swirled around them, following the vampire as water flowing down a drain. back, Broker said, and Mitchell had to force his eyes open.
Len pushed Gavril's body off of Ayers, clamping her hand over his neck. Mitchell heard a crack and Broker sobbed as he snapped back into himself.
Mitchell breathed out.
Broker curled up, shoving his fist into his mouth to muffle broken sobbing. Len stared at Mitchell, blood seeping through her fingers, Ayers bleeding out-- no, her hand was over his shoulder, not his neck.
Gavril didn't move.
Mitchell pulled out his phone as he moved to Broker's side. The other man shuddered as Mitchell pulled him to his chest. "I'm calling Tam."
*
Mitchell stood beside his sister, watching the ambulance drive away. Blue and red lights flashed over her face; Broker sat in the back of her sleek black four door, head bowed, hands wrapped around a foam cup. Len sat on the trunk, a blanket wrapped around her shoulders, silent but for her breathing.
"Disappointed isn't a strong enough word," Tam said, arms crossed. Mitchell didn't look at her. "Couldn't get a Master to help, of course not, you're both too fucking stubborn for that--"
"I didn't know it would... neither of us knew."
"You could have died." Tam shook her head. "All of you. You're lucky it was only Gavril. Do you understand me? I'm telling you you're lucky only one person died tonight."
"Broker--"
"Knows better! You know better! The only reason I'm not yelling at the both of you..." She gestured towards Broker. "What the hells happened to him?"
Mitchell chewed his knuckle. Projecting wasn't… entirely forbidden, but it was frowned upon. Especially for Seers. "We were dealing with a deadspot, you know the dead are stronger then. It hit him harder that he was expecting, that's all."
Tam frowned. "You seem all right." Was that an accusation, or relief? A little of both, maybe. Mitchell glanced back at Broker.
"Let me know if you need anything."
"I can take care of him, Mitch. Take your friend home. Get some rest."
*
Len said nothing on the ride home, but when he pulled up to her apartment building she stayed where she was. Mitchell shut the engine off.
"I'm a monster," Len said eventually.
"No you're not," Mitchell said. "You have the paperwork to prove it."
She laughed. "That thing was my ancestor, you know? That's what I come from. I don't even know what it is."
"Yeah, well one of my ancestors made it, so I think we're even."
Sighing she asked, "What do you do afterwards?"
"After a bad one like this? Sleep. Then spend some time with Cagri. Get him to cook for me. Try not to think too much about it."
"So: Sleep, fuck, eat." Mitchell laughed. "Think I can handle that."
She got out of the car as he turned the key, and waved him off as he drove away.
*
He was half asleep by the time he opened his front door. He dropped his keys on the end table and shoved his shoes off, sagging into the door.
The kitchen light was on. He stood up straight, calling out, "Cag?" No answer. He took the three steps to the doorway, pulling his magic up -- dragging it, more like -- and rushed into the room, an angry shout dying on his lips.
A woman sat at his small table, hands folded in front of her. A man stood by the window, turning towards him. They both wore uniform black trousers and jacket, red sash knotted over the left shoulder, the spiral triskele of the Lady's Court pinned to the knot.
He let his magic slip back into his body, mouth dry. The Court was in his kitchen.
"Mitchell Pathing," the woman said, indicating the chair across from her. She could have been anyone with her black hair and olive skin, but the scar on her face was familiar.
Harper had advised him, back in university, not to tell the cops you knew what you had done wrong -- just in case they were after you for something else, because then they had you for two counts. So instead of asking if they were there about Gavril he said, "Have we met?"
The woman's expression didn't change. "Canan Weccear. I attended your mother's funeral."
"That was subtle," Mitchell said before he could stop himself. Weccear's face twitched.
"What happened tonight, Mr. Pathing? Why is Xenia Gavril dead?" She drew a notebook from her jacket.
Mitchell pressed his sweaty palms against his knees. "She was possessed by the ghost of a vampire. Or… whatever a vampire leaves behind when it dies. I'm honestly not sure. But it possessed her, and when we exorcised it she didn't return to her body."
Weccear nodded as she wrote. It she was at all surprised by 'vampire', it didn't show. "And how did you come to discover this haunting?"
"A friend of mine--"
"Does this friend have a name?"
Mitchell gripped his knees. "Len Abendroth."
"And how did she come to know of this?"
"She said it was an old family problem." Weccear's gaze bore into him. "She's under the threshold."
Weccear had him go over the whole thing, from Len binging it up to watching the ambulance drive away. He skipped the bit about Broker Projecting -- that was up to him to tell the Court, not Mitchell.
The courtier closed her notebook. "If the autopsy results corroborate your story, you will not hear from us again. Not concerning this incident, at the least."
"How many vampire ghosts do you think there are in Krixos?"
Her brows rose. "Mind yourself, Seer. You must know the precarious situation you are in; you would be a fool, otherwise."
The other courtier didn't even look at him.
He didn't bother letting them out; they had let themselves in, they knew where the door was. He wiped a hand over his face, finally standing when he heard the door click. He locked it before dragging himself to his bed, sending Tam a quick text:
Court was here. Going to sleep. Talk in the morning.
And he meant it, he did, but every time he closed his eyes he saw the flickering flame in Gavril's eye sockets.