The Zalt Household

The messenger from the ship arrived back home with two Fairchild brothers in tow, his gloved hands crammed in his pockets during the entire trip. It was the sort of place that seamed as stitched together as the bodies inside, new wings and levels sticking out of a core as old as Daut itself. A large wooden door stood with two guards out front of it dressed in old, outdated armor. Their gazes shifted to the two as they got closer to the door, their eyes vacant. The entire place had a bad feeling to it, an aura tainted by years of necromancy.

The messenger reached out a hand and lead the way into a rather cluttered doorway decorated with an old fashioned chandler and several old paintings. Further inside stood a winding double stairway. The messenger turned to the two with a slight bow. "I'll be sure Mr. Zalt knows of your arrival," He said before moving to head up the stairs.

Once the messenger was gone, Luke crossed his arms and grumbled, "Well, we got vampires and necromancers down. Care to piss off the devil himself next time?"

---

Meanwhile on the second floor, the messenger moved down the hallway with at least a bit more ease than he had been walking outside, though stopped in his tracks when he thought he saw something out of the corner of his eye. His head cocked to the side slightly to examine the strange shadow.

Despite his weakness, Alistair managed to stay standing upright and keep a haughty expression on his face. "I have not angered the necromancer yet. HE is paying me to exorcise his house. I would hardly call that troublesome, Lucas. The only problem is I used up all my magic on that vampire yesterday."

Dmitri stopped when he saw the messenger. Standing still in the shadows, he hoped the man would think Dmitri was a trick of the eyes. He didn't want to use his power yet, in case he needed it later. Luckily, humans were usually fairly easy to trick.

The messenger shook his head when he didn't see anything else moving. Clearly his goggles were playing tricks on him again, or the ghosts were at it. Both were just as likely. With a shrug he continued into the room with the two chatting necromancers. "Mr. Zalt, your guest have arrived."

Zalt leaned up from his overly stuffed chair, responding with a clap of his hands, "Wonderful. I assume he's on one piece?"

"For the time being," The messenger replied.

"All the better for when he fails," The necromancer responded as he retrieved his cane and stood on it again.

From behind Dmitri, one of the many loose bricks began to shake. Before long, it was out of the wall and flying directly for Dmitri's head with no real source.

---

Luke shook his head. "And you expect him to believe you were fighting off a vampire all of yesterday?"

Alistair grimaced. "I 'ave the bloo'y bite marks t' prove it. 'e also offered me the job while I was in the 'ospital. Can't call that misinformed, now can you?"

Lucas gave him an appeasing look, needing a few moments to remember the sudden shift in accent from earlier. Moved his hands back to his pockets again, he responded, "Accent's slipped again."

He was almost certain that the accent tied everything together. After all, he knew for sure Alistair was hiding something and seamed to be quite stuck up on appearances. What boggled him was the fact he was a ectomancer, but was also conning people at the same time. It all came together with the accent, the mark of his past he seamed to have difficulty erasing. Obviously he was embarrassed about his lack of funds, his low station in life. Something that couldn't be remedies without hard work, or lots of tricks.

Alistair paused in some embarrassment, then grumbled, looking away. "I do not have the slightest idea what you are talking about."

"Sorry. Must've been my imagination," Lucas responded flatly, moving to look back at the stairway. "Don't like it here at all. Gives me the willies."

"I am not fond of it myself, but if we are both to get new suits any time soon, then we must do this," Alistair answered stiffly, moving to stand with his back against the wall.

"Suits?" Lucas asked himself quietly. Then the full implications hit him, getting a bit of a shocked reaction, followed closely by anger. "You're doing this jus' for a bit of quick money? That's just plain nuts." With a gesture toward the front door, he coaxed, "Come one, we have time right now, we can run out of this place and leave this behind us. Get a job at a factory and get some money there."

"I am NOT going to," Alistair answered with a glare. "Never. The pay is bloody awful and they kill people every day without a care. If I'm to risk my head, it will be for a much bigger prize."

He'd made acquaintances with another boy while they were both looking for work once. The line had stretched almost a mile at a steel mill, and the pay, while not remotely good, was better than continuing to starve. Peter... Peter had been the last one taken in that shift. And that was the last he'd ever been heard of. Alistair went to meet him that night, but heard from another man that Peter had suffered a fatal accident, having been much too tired, much too hungry to keep his feet around the grinding gears of the machines.

When the brick made contact with Dmitri's head, he held the spot of impact while turning around a little slower than quickly. Had someone spotted him? Looking around, he could see no one. When he searched for what had hit him, he found the brick laying at his feet and grimaced. Sure enough, the blow had been hard enough to draw blood, evidenced by the crimson substance on his fingers as he took them off his head. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw something move, and turned in just enough time to dodge another brick coming at him, with no thrower in sight. "Derʹmo!*" Dmitri dodged just as the brick came close enough, and was quick to move, in case of a volley of them. Looking back, he never saw how the bricks were thrown his way, and noticed that he had the feeling of his hair standing on end, causing him to shiver. He hoped no one would see this charade, or he would be in a bit of trouble.

((Oops, forgot this part. ^_^' *-Russian for shit))

"So you're gonna take the risk that's almost certainly going to get you killed?" Luke responded, glaring in return.

---

Mr. Zalt made his way for the staircase, a bit hindered by his bad leg. He paused when he felt a cold lump in his gut, an almost sure sign of ghosts. His light purple eyes slowly moved to land on the dark spot where he could hear bricks hitting the stone. A scowl appeared on his face as he asked, "Someone there? Someone other than the usual parties."

"It will not. People that worry over ghosts are generally just too nervous and superstitious. The dead can't hurt the living," Alistair scoffed.

Dmitri stopped as he heard the voice. He didn't want to, since the barrage of bricks would continue, whether he stopped or not. However, if the man who had spoken followed the volley of bricks, he would certainly be found out, unless he could get eye contact with the man quickly enough. As he thought about what he should do, he saw another brick come at him, and went to cover his face. When he didn't feel an impact, he looked up, and saw the brick hovering before him. He was surprised, and and a little fearful for what the brick was going to do next.

-----

The female ghost dropped the brick she had caught. Ivanna saw this man enter earlier, and paid him no mind, since she only had a grudge against one being. However, the longer he had stayed, the more she was interested, and she eventually figured out that the man she had been looking at was none other than Dmitri. She couldn't believe it at first, but he hadn't changed at all since she last saw him. When one of the other spectral residents of the house began hurting him, she tried to plead him to stop, and so now she was trying to keep the bricks from hitting Dmitri. She was sad to see the spots where the bricks had hit him, causing blood to flow. "Please, stop it," she pleaded, her voice only heard by the other ghost. "This man has done nothing to you."

"It's not the ghosts I'm worried about, it's the necromancer," Lucas snapped back. "They're not well known for being welcoming or nice to visitors. I've heard stories that they reanimate steaks before serving them to you."

---

The angry miner paused his assault. He really wouldn't have been that scary if most people could see him, with his gentle older face and his soft copstash. Still keeping a good hold on the brick, the man responded with a mixture of anger and confusion, "He's undead, a willing undead. He mocks our situations by being here and most likely works for one of the necromancers."

---

Zalt moved closer to investigate the noise, spotting Dmitri. "Well, what have we here? An intruder? Perhaps some self defense is in order," He said, beginning to gather energy for an attack.

"I'm here to clear out some ghosts. That's all. When I'm done he'll pay me and we'll leave."

"That's where you're wrong. He's not willing. He was forced to become what he is, as well." She went closer to the miner, trying to take the brick from him. "Also, I doubt he is necromancer's grunt. Otherwise, why would he be sneaking about?" When she heard the head necromancer speak, she gasped. She knew it wouldn't be good if Dmitri was caught. She threw the brick she had caught earlier at Zalt, hoping to give Dmitri enough time to escape.

-----

Dmitri cursed when Zalt spoke to him. He stood up, and was about to try and get eye contact with the necromancer when the sound of a flying brick caused him to flinch. He watched as the brick flew past him and toward Zalt. At least whatever was throwing them at Dmitri seemed to be distracted. He contemplated running, but if this was the necromancer that was controlling Ivanna, he had to die. Even though he doubted the man would know, let alone care, he asked him, "Are you using a female's body as one of your undead servants? A female by the name of Ivanna?" Hopefully, Dmitri could keep the man from attacking, even if he followed by the phantom bricks' example of tossing junk at him.

The necromancer moved to dodge out of the way of the brick, stumbling a bit in his attempt though surprisingly he managed to avoid being hit. "Never heard the name. Though I'd be more inclined to help if you weren't sneaking through my house like some sort of rat. I'm afraid I can't let this go nicely."

From down the hall, a second necromancer emerged. This one looked quite a bit younger, like he was only in his thirties. Most people wouldn't even guess his nature from his green, upper class Naughtsian suit. "Is there a problem here?" He asked.

"An intruder, Mr. Morozov," Zalt responded.

The ghost stopped his assault on Dmitri, glaring at the two necromancers in the hallway.

---

"And if he doesn't plan on letting you leave?" Lucas asked.

"Then we'll have to think of something," Alistair answered. "I know how to think on my feet, Luke."

Dmitri wasn't inclined to believe the necromancer, until the second one showed up. This necromancer was Naughtsian, and meant that he was much more likely to be the one in control of Ivanna. He glared at the man and demanded, "Relinquish your control of the female Ivanna, and I won't hurt you." He wasn't even paying attention to Zalt at this point. He knew that this would be bad if the necromancer tried to attack, but neither of them knew of his powers yet. It would be hard to get the both of them under his hallucination, but it could be done. Especially the Naughtsian. Direct eye contact was in their culture, after all. He felt a slight pressure on his arm, but did nothing about it.

~~

"Move, Dmitri! Move! Vy upryamyĭ mul!*" Ivanna was pushing Dmitri, trying to get him to leave, before things got bad. She didn't want to see him hurt, and she knew that these necromancers knew how to dole out pain. Especially to the undead. Her attempts were in vain, as Dmitri merely stood there.

((* - "You stubborn mule!"))

"You mean this woman?" The Naughtsian necromancer asked with only the barest hint of his Naughtsian roots poking through his voice. He beckoned with his hand toward the room they had just exited from. From inside the room, the shambling, covered body of Ivanna came walking out, stopping by her master's side with the lurch not unlike that of a machine. "I'm afraid you can't have her. You see, she was a gift from a dear friend. Now, if you know what is good for you, you will run away. Very far away."

---

"You're still not exactly in the best shape for running or fighting," Luke said.

"I can ALWAYS run," Alistair answered. "And I did bring you for a purpose."

"Yeah," came a voice from behind Luke. "To beat out brains if things get a bit too hot to handle." It was a male voice that giggled.

Alistair, seeming to ignore it, went on. "I'll need you to keep me from falling on my face if I can't convince our host to give me some more time before I attempt this. I really don't believe I am quite up to par today."

Dmitri scowled at the necromancer. "Ivanna is not some 'gift' to be given away. And I will not run until your control over her is gone." He wanted to make his point blatantly clear. It pained him to see the empty shell of his beautiful lover lurching around like some abused doll. He would not stand to see her this way. He almost thought about offering the necromancer another cadaver in return for her, but he knew it wouldn't work. The situation was probably going to become very dangerous indeed, especially since the other necromancer had threatened to harm him. And Dmitri's own threats weren't helping, but right now, he didn't care. As long as he brought the damned necromancers down with him, he didn't care what happened to him.

~~

Ivanna watched as Dmitri and the necromancers exchanged words. She was nearly brought to tears by his actions, and the fact that he still cared for here, after all this time. However, she didn't want to see harm come to him. She tried again to convince him to leave, but when that didn't work, she resigned to a helpless by-stander, watching the potential harm to her loved one.

"Suit yourself," Replied the Naughtsian necromancer casually. With one swift, sure motion he reached into his coat, pulled out a pistol and aimed it at Dmitri's chest. He didn't wait long before he pulled the trigger. A well practiced action, definitely not something he was not used to doing.

---

Luke glanced behind him, his eyes taking a quick sweep to attempt to locate the location of the voice. When he found nothing, he looked back at Alistair, assuming he was just imagining things. "I'll do what I can to support you. And is it just me, or is that necromancer taking 'is sweet time?"