A Graveyard Shift

Eito slept poorly the next day. It felt like it had taken all of his remaining strength to pull himself from his parlor into his darkened, interior chamber where he could make certain no sunlight could reach. That night once the moon had taken its place, he thought what he could do to try and take his mind off Agatha.
He didn't realize that trying to convince himself he was fine never seeing her again would be harder the second time.
After some indecisive mulling, he did remember that he had been tasked to report back from what had occurred at the Ball. Tasked by someone who was stiffed an invitation.
He finally took the chance to change out of his blood-stained suit into a bottom up with a vest for the warm summer evening. Putting on his best face, he left his haven toward where his tutor awaited.
As he went, he scanned all around him- even up into the night sky- to ensure he was not followed.
Somehow the air grew damp and misted, as if on cue, as he walked past the burial sites. He wondered if that was some sort of decorative effect.
Once he had reached, his destination he stepped up to the door of the small house among the headstones and knocked several times as he called out,
"It's me, Norman. While they weren't exactly handing out party favor's, I still have something peculiar I thought you might be interested in."

Through the heavy curtains over the windows an occasional wail could be heard, but only just. The house it's self was hidden away, and anyone passing by who didn't know of it would likely have passed the sound off as either wind noise or restless spirits making mischief.

After a moment the door cracked open. Part of a silhouette peeked out before it closes again and the rattle of chains being withdrawn scraped on the door. It swing open in full and a young man with curling black hair and a wiry frame peered up at Eito through round spectacles.

His forearms and shirt were soaked in blood.

He stepped aside to let Eito in and adjusted his glasses, leaving a trail of dark blood streaking up his nose.

"Ah, yes, good. I was wondering when youd be stopping by. Come in, Eito, come in."

Eito's eyes widened at the sight of the blood- in his state of mind he had forgotten to feed before coming here. He swallowed harshly, suppressing his hunger and regaining his composure, though it was no easy effort. "I was gonna come last night, but I had some. . . personal matters to take care of first."

He stepped inside the small home as he said, "So, I wanted to get back to you to report on the highlights of the Ashen Ball.  The biggest headline is that Obadiah crashed it. Er, I don't think he himself made any grand entrances, but still his cronies certainly did. Thanks to some well-placed devices, a great fire was set right of the middle of the temple. If it wasn't for my Coteries quick thinking, half the guests would have burned to death."

He leaned against the wall casually, "But before all that excitement, I did have an opportunity to speak with the Sheriff. It was not very productive, she mostly just used it as a chance to voice her disapproval of my creation directly to my face. Honestly, the only reason I got an invitation was to see how badly I'd embarrass myself."

He paused for a second, trying to decide if he should include helping the strange fairy folk escape. Or at least, that's what Nina said they were. Still, he wasn't sure if that story needed to be spread around, even if Norman kept to himself.  

A sly smile appeared as he unbuttoned the top few buttons on his shirt, "Though, as much as I know you'd love to hear me prattle about my conversations with various Kindred, I really wanted to ask you about somethin'."
He pulled back his shirt to show his chest and the leaf shaped scar over his heart. " What do you make of this?"

The bookish Kindred busied himself with polishing his glasses on his shirt while he leaned forward to take a closer look at the mark. After a moments examination he quirked one eyebrow and leaned back again.

"Well if you're going to go about collecting scars they might as well be pretty ones I suppose."

He set his glasses back on his nose and immediately grimmaced and took the now blood smeared spectacles off. He looked down at himself and grunted in surprise before gaming his way to a wash basin.

"Oh dear. Forgive my appearance. You just missed Father's meal. He's not as fastidious as he used to be."

He quickly washed up and cleaned his glasses. After rummaging Ng in a cabinet for a moment he emerged with a few metal instruments and directed Eito to sit in a simple wooden chair by the table.

"I doubt you'd show me something like that just to show off, so let me take a proper look."

Taking another look with a magnifying glass in one hand and probe in the other he sat next to Eito and leaned forward to prod at the mark. The moment the probe touched Eitos skin there was a flash like an arcing power line that sent Norman sprawling backwards out of his chair. He blinked owlishly a few times, hair standing on end and eyes wide.

"Well... That... Was unexpected"

Eito chuckled as he shook his head, "I don't think I'll ever get another scar. Getting this one was a surprise. If I ever so much got a scrape when I was younger, I assure you it would have been inspected by no more than 3 doctors to rule out infection at the insistence of my mother. And I really am not the kind of guy to go looking for a..."

He jumped when the small blast sent Norman backward, eyes going wide. "Though I suppose if anyone comes at me with a metal stake, I'm well protected."

Realizing now wasn't the time for levity, he adds, "Would it help your tests if I told you where it came from?"

Norman straightens himself out after a moment. Holding up the iron probe the tool is still intact but there is a black scorch mark on the end. He holds up a hand for silence then carefully prods at the scar tissue again. This time only a faint zap like static electricity happens. Norman grunts and returns to his chair.

"Sadly, you're just as vulnerable to metal as the rest of us. The discharge was only residual aetherial exchange. It would have dissipated on its own in a few sunrises. The mark it's self is the interesting though..."

He gets up and heads to the small book case, bringing back an armload of old leather bound books, leafs Ng through them doggedly.

"It's Glamour of some sort, or a Gnostic application of some other source. How did you come by such magic?"

He freezes for a moment, hands trembling in sudden excitement as he looks up.

"Certain circles of Magi make use of such magic, or enslave those who wield it."

He clutches Eitos shoulder painfully tight

"Is it the Order of Hermes?! Is that who gave this to you?!"

He seems like he's going to say more, then his eyes glaze over and he goes limp. He blinks a few times and some life returns to his eyes after a time. He looks up at Eito, hate boiling in the depths of his dark eyes while his face and voice remain neutral.

"If so, duty compels me to report to our magnificent savior, Prince Bianca. She is the only one who can keep us safe from the foul Magi and we owe her our loyalty and love."

Eito gave the most genuine smile he could as he said,
"Rest assured, I can safely say it was not this Order of Hermes who did this." His smile vanishes, "At least, I don't think so."
Though he knew sharing further required careful choice of words. Even if Norman had no love for the Prince, he didn't seem to have much of a choice in regards to obedience.  Of course, choosing what to leave out would change the entire narrative altogether.
"I overheard the one who was responsible was a fairy. Like a real one from the tales. The Prince seemed to keep an assortment of them chained within the Temple. I assumed they were trophies of some sort."
He let a beat lapse in the conversation as he shrugged, "All I really did was speak with them- they seemed quite upset given their circumstance. Just before I walked away, I felt a slight burning sensation and saw later I had this mark. I came to you to make sure this wasn't some sort of curse the creature laid on me out of anger."

His excited smile returned, "And see what use we could make if regardless of the being's intention."

The tension left the Warlocks body and he breathed a little easier.

"One of the Fae? Fascinating. I'd heard if some expeditions into the Dreaming that ended rather disasterously. I've never met one, but by all accounts they are crafty."

He pulls one if the thick times over and flips it open to an illuminated page. On one side is a scene of unearthly beautiful men and women in beautiful courtly dress on horseback following a pack of dogs running down a round featured, plainly dressed man.

"What I know about them is hardly more than old wives tales, but I can tell you a few things. Dealing with mortals to them is a sport, one they play with great enthusiasm and malice. They fear the touch of iron and fire. They never lie, but hardly speak the truth. And they *never* give away *anything* for free. I think it's some cultural obligation or magical ban. Whatever it is, they are driven to repay all debts owed, whether real or perceived."

A slow smile spreads over his face

"So I won't ask after the date of our dear Princes menagerie. But you say this can be used? How do you mean?"

Eito nodded along as Mr Hendricks explained what he knew of the faeries.
"That's actually what I wanted your help with." Eito said, "The creature bestowed this mark without so much as a glance, so I know it was magic of some kind. But as you said, if they don't give away anything for free, I wanted to make sure there wasn't malicious intent. And if I also gave you a chance to study something you might not otherwise come across, even better. I didn't want to just poke at it myself in the event. . . what just happened happened. But this scar wasn't the only reason I came to you this evening."

If Norman doesn't care to inspect his mark further, he began to button up his shirt as he said, "Even with everything you have shown me about the power that lies in blood, you said I was not even scratching the surface. Would you be willing to allow me to scratch harder?