Personal History

“You’re quite certain that what you’re doing is safe?” Pyrosis asked. He stirred some black pepper into the liquid bubbling in his cauldron.

“Well, no, but that is the idea,” Cipher responded. He sat in one of Pyrosis’ ancient wooden chairs, leaning on one arm. “Hence the need for your… potions.”

“Why do you say it like that?”

Of course, Pyrosis was not a real wizard. That did not stop him from adopting the trappings of one– from his own personal fashion choices to the way he decorated his home (which was itself a massive hollowed out stalagnate, fashioning itself quite the tower). Any so-called “potion” Pyrosis made was just a blend of distilled herbs and spices that were said to cause various effects– and when confronted, he would ask what else would constitute a potion? And whoever was asking would have to concede, though there was no magic involved in their brewing. Though saying that out loud was a great way to be denied service, or, worse, receive a nasty brew.

“Anyhow,” Cipher said, tactfully avoiding the question, “I am being paid quite the commission for this particular investigation.”

“Are you?” Pyrosis asked. “Is there really so much need for paranormal investigators during murders?”

“Not usually.” Cipher drummed his fingers against the table, which was just as worn as the chair. “Though a contact at the Church noticed… well, nevermind all that. It’s classified. Technically, even I’m not allowed to know.”

“Oh, how you tantalise,” Pyrosis said noncommittally. He was definitely curious, but this wasn’t anything that would keep him awake at night.

“Yes, well, I wouldn’t want this getting back to, you know, any gossip we may both know…” Cipher was desperate to talk about his latest job. Plus, someone as travelled and knowledgeable as Pyrosis may have some input.

“Are you talking about Worldling?” Pyrosis chuckled. “Believe me, we do not engage in equal exchanges of information. I won’t pry, of course; but if your main concern is word getting out, by all means, do share.”

Cipher took a breath. He really shouldn’t. Okay, okay, fine– he couldn’t resist. “See, my contact found bite marks on Father Oleander’s neck.”

This made Pyrosis stop. He tapped the side of the cauldron with the wooden spoon he was using to stir. The concoction was finished– he used a ladle to pour some of the liquid into a small spray bottle Cipher had brought.

“Is that so?” he asked. “The marks of incisors?”

“The very same.” Cipher nodded, keeping cool, but very excited that Pyrosis seemed to know where he was going. “Of course, anyone with fangs could have left that mark…”

“The late head priest was known for his promiscuity.”

“Indeed. Of course, given there were no other signs of struggle, or any other major injuries on the body, one might conjure the image of a vampire.”

“I’m seeing the need for a paranormal researcher during a murder case.” Pyrosis let out an amused exhale; not quite a laugh. “Pepper spray will likely not be enough, if you are dealing with vampires. Come with me– I can show you my repertoire.”

“Your repertoire? Of what?”

“Of vampire repellents, of course. You should keep yourself safe, you twig, you.” Pyrosis moved his cauldron away from the flames, and turned off the burner. He gestured for Cipher to follow him, and the pair descended the spiral stairs of Pyrosis’ tower.

Pyrosis kept all of his old travelling gear in the walk-in closet closest to his front door. He ushered Cipher inside, and began looking through various backpacks and coats. Cipher stood awkwardly to the side, feeling as though it would be rude to rifle through someone else’s things.

Finally, Pyrosis stood. In his hands was a harness, with two straps that would loop around the shoulders, and a belt for around the waist. The belt had a few bags strapped to it, and the straps were each decorated with four wooden stakes.

“I admit, I had a bit of a vampire hunting phase when I was younger,” Pyrosis said.

“How much younger?” Cipher asked.

“Do you want the equipment or not?” 

“Sorry. Go on.”

Pyrosis showed his guest the various different pouches– one was filled with rice, as legend had it that vampires must stop and count everything they come across. There were also a few small vials of holy water. The bottles were pristine considering how long it had been since Pyrosis had last even thought about vampires at all. There was a rather large, metallic sulphuric emblem that stayed attached to the belt via magnet, too, just in case. 

Cipher held the equipment in his hands. He thought it terribly vain, but he despised the idea of putting this on– his look was very elegant, with flowing robes and a cape. This would look so stupid, he thought. He tried to put the thought out of his mind, but he grimaced nonetheless.

“Problem?” Pyrosis asked.

“I don’t know that I can see myself wearing this.”

“Alright. Well, it likely isn’t vampires, anyhow.” Pyrosis shrugged, and took the equipment back. “Murmur knows I spent years trying to find some. I do know they’re real, but I was never able to find any hideout. Why would they so brazenly target such a public figure? It seems stupid, for creatures that spend so much of their time hidden away.”

Cipher inhaled. Pyrosis was right, and that was what intrigued him most about this case.

“Finding a withered corpse whose only injury is a bite to the neck? I’m quite certain it’s nothing– likely, the good Father had some health issues of which the public was unaware.”

What of Mercy’s response? The two were so close, and they seemed surprised and devastated.

“Besides, you’ve already made your money-”

“Alright, alright.” Cipher sighed and rolled his eyes. “You’ve made your point.”

Pyrosis smiled softly– though not without indication of his victory. “Excellent. Keeping yourself safe should be the priority. Let’s get this on you, shall we?”

Cipher sighed, then nodded.

With the harness fastened, Cipher was ready to head out to the scene of the crime. He only felt extremely ridiculous with his new accessory.