From a rambunctious high born youth to murderous corrupted blood drunk off madness, one could say that Franz von Hatzfeld lived through very many phases, wore many masks and discarded many more. It helped with being the single servant of a noble blooded young master by the name of Iszak Bathory. (And by young, he meant several centuries older than even himself). It was a position seen as lofty, fortunate and admirable for a shabby corrupted blooded individual such as himself.
However, over the years, the long decades that drew into centuries, Franz came to realize that his servitude was one riddled with more cons than pros.
Iszak Bathory was notoriously lazy and approached worldly matters with haphazard intent, doing things only in halves. Which thus left Franz to tie up loose ends that scattered about due to his Master’s incompetent and whimsical personality. And with every mess he cleaned, his Master would be out there stirring up trouble anew, creating more threads that demanded Franz’s attention.
Sometimes he would spend days, weeks, even months not seeing his stupid Master because he was so busy running around on errands and chore and sorting out affairs between the Megtorlas Clan, New Lidway City and the Hunter’s Association.
In fact, it had been exactly twenty-three days, four hours, thirty-eight minutes and fifty-four seconds since he last saw his Master’s stupid punchable face. He would soon ask for a raise. Or even a vacation, if only a miracle could happen upon him and he wasn’t struck with new responsibilities. Annoyance was at the forefront of his mind as well as the blaring duty-bound desire to get things done as quickly and as efficiently as possible.
Currently, Franz was banging on the door of an old apartment. “Mr Kowalski, please open up. This is Franz. Mr Kowalski?” The building itself was no better than a rundown heap, with the lights in halls constantly flickering. There was a disgusting smell that wafted through, assaulting Franz’s sensitive vampire nose; a mix of sour sweat, age-old vomit stains and other unpleasant remnants of waste.
And with it came the telltale hint of cheap magic and a copper tinge. Franz knocked again but there was no answer. The bare-bones warding spell pulsed behind the chipped wooden door but it was weak, ill-maintained.
Franz sighed, not wishing to barge in like a low-tiered criminal but when left without an option, he would forgo niceties for the sake of efficiency. He was on a schedule, after all.
With his needle fang, he sliced open his thumb and painted a vertical red streak on the wooden door. The blood turned black before it phased into a mist-like substance and eased into wood Franz’s eyes glowed red, as his blood slowly picked apart the shambles of an old rickety spell that was left as a ward.
As for the lock… Simple. Franz kept a trusty old hairpin in his pocket for a reason; these old doors didn’t stand a chance against him. With a click, the lock relented. There was a chain in place, which Franz easily ripped out with his hands and stepped inside.
There was the usual gagging smell of incense, alcohol, cigarette smoke and week-old takeout that usually infested Mr Kowalski’s lair. But there was something else as well; fresh rainwater that came with the sharp breeze of New Lidway’s nightly wind.
Mr Kowalski’s home was in disarray, with furniture slightly displaced, scribbled notes flying about on loose pieces of paper and plates of food crumbs left out alongside toppled beer cans. Which was the usual for the sorcerer’s questionable living habits but there was one thing that was painfully amiss.
Franz caught one of the fluttering sheets of magical diagrams scratched on a notebook page. The breeze was coming from deeper in the apartment, where the bedroom door was left slightly ajar.
Ha had a nagging feeling that the sorcerer, Mr Kowalski wasn’t going to be turning in that monthly report he was due to write. But whether he had disappeared out of his own volition or because of external forces…hm. Franz rubbed his chin in thought, the answer ought to be before him.
Judging from the state of the apartment and the scattered belongings thrown about; from the leyline compass on the kitchen counter and the divination set left in the living room, Franz could make an educated guess.
He sighed deeply, massaging his temple as another troublesome development was unfolding before him, more affairs that needed his attention. Franz had heard of a noble blood whose blood ability was creating another physical body of herself. How Franz wished to have the same power…!
Steeling his determination, Franz marched into Kowalski’s bedroom. He had work to do, and judging from the toppled furniture and the wide-open window that invited the rain indoors, Franz had a lot cut out for him.
…
“The bracelet is not as powerful,” Graham said like he was stuck on some sort of replay button. Han Li was already sick of hearing the same line over and over.
It was only natural to roll his eyes, “I’m not deaf, nor am I dumb. So you don’t have to keep reminding me, mom.”
He patted down the oversized black sweater in Graham’s mirror, amused that Graham even owned something like a hoodie and of course it would have to be black as well. The pants didn’t really fit him either but Han Li supposed there was something stylish about looking like a goth-inspired homeless jock that wore designer. Or something.
Han Li had spent all of Friday rolling around in bed, being attended to like he was some sick baby chick. And for a time he was happy to bask in the lazy affection and the light thrums of anxiety and depression that devoured his motivation for life.
But Friday had come and gone and it was Saturday already. It might have been the weekend but he had a whole day of lectures he missed out on and homework piling up. If he lazed around Graham’s penthouse any longer, Han Li feared that he would grow too accustomed to luxury and the oddly comforting presence of the Saint of Eternity.
Han Li parted with the full-body mirror and made his way to the entrance.
“I will drive you back,” Graham insisted, marching to join Han Li at the doorway. He reached out and caught Han Li’s wrist, gloved digits slid over bare skin.
With a yelp, Han Li fought for balance, trying not to outright crash into Graham’s body. He had enough memories of that broad, solid chest and rounded biceps to last a lifetime, thank you very much. Any more and Han Li’s mental faculties might start malfunctioning.
The black leather pulled at his skin and Han Li recalled the rough calluses of Graham’s finger pads. He gulped and tried to pull back. The keyword was tried. “What are you doing?”
“This amulet worries me.” The light divot in Graham’s brow refused to ease. He was truly dissatisfied with the relic he gifted Han Li as a replacement with the other one he lost.
This one was a bracelet, a simple silver chain blessed by a priest of sorts and bore the right properties to ward off demonic wrath. Compared to the previous amulet, this one was of much cheaper variety and Graham stood reason to worry.
In Han Li’s experience, these sorts of things rarely lasted, with just small doses of his demonic powers over a short period of time, the bracelet might falter.
Still, it was something and that was better than nothing. Han Li smiled, “Hey, stop worrying so much. You might not believe me but I can actually take care of myself.”
“I will get you something better.”
“Yeah well, I’m patient and I can wait.”
“…” Graham did not seem pleased, his lips set in a perpetual light frown. But he seemed to have conceded, letting go of Han Li’s arm. “Then allow me to take you home.”
Just then they were interrupted by a generic ringtone. Graham’s expression fell even further when he saw the number displayed. “Wait. I must take this first.”
Han Li raised a brow, “I can go home by myself.”
But Graham ignored him, his mobile phone pressed to his ear. “Mr Walker.”
Han Li stood there awkwardly, feeling like it would be a bit rude to just slither away like a snake. But it didn’t feel right to listen in on Graham’s conversation either.
“…Is it dire? You do understand that I’m currently…” Graham paced while his face remained stoic. Han Li was starting to recognize the telltale signs of agitation. “I see… Very well.” He pulled the phone away from his ear, eyes drifting toward Han Li with a pointed frown on his lips.
Fuck, Han Li thought, how was it fair for him to look so cute on top of everything else? Warmth blossomed in his heart, making him smile without restraint, “Stop worrying so much, Gramy, I’m a big boy. Promise I won’t get lost on my way home.”
Graham raised a brow. “…I see. Do take care, Han Li. Stay safe.”
“Right.” And with a stiff nod, Han Li was off. He attributed the beating of his heart to the sore spot on his wrist. Maybe he was allergic to Graham’s glove or something. Of course, that wasn’t the case.
