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"Shaper," Victor said carefully, turning around and taking the clove he'd been smoking out of his mouth, "I want you to think about something." He stubbed his smoke out in the ashtray, and looked at Shaper without really meeting his eyes.

"Think about all the times I've asked you not to follow because you'd get hurt. Think about all the times I was right."

Shaper made a noise, and Victor held up his hand forebodingly. "Hear me out. Do you seriously think that if you told me 'Hey I've got to get some alone time to go nuts' I wouldn't say 'Let me find you a room?' Christ!" He turned back to the stove and stirred the stuff on the stove. "That's it, I think. I can't beat you up over it anymore than you already are."

Shaper sighed again.

"Doesn't make me feel any less sorry for doing it. But at least beating that thing makes my head feel less crowded now." Another sigh, and he downed the entire mug of coffee, in three quick scalding gulps.

"So... how long until we get to eat, oh great culinary genius?"

"I never said that," Victor snorted. "But I've never killed anyone with my cooking - for making fun of it, sure, but never with it."

"Oh," Shaper sighed, and got up, getting a second cup of coffee, and snitching one of Amy's Bali-Hais from the pack she'd left on the table. Soon ginger and cinnamon wafted into the air with spicy clove, and the kitchen began to smell like singed pumpkin pie. "So, where's Amy at today? She left her smokes here if she left."

Victor shrugged. "Do I look like an undead-keeper? Last I saw her she was still in bed. You know, dead things go sleepy when the sun is up." He pushed his bangs out of his eyes, and turned around.

"Are you sure you're alright, you still sound a little hoarse."

"Hey, we can't all be undead demony things. Some people have to be human."

"Oh." Another sigh, and sip of java. "Well, you ever thought of taking a throat lozenge or a spoonful of honey or something? You, pardon the phrase, sound like shit. And it's making me wince just hearing you."

Shaper paused.

"Either that or I'm still messed up in the head from last night."

"Naw, I sound like shit, my throat's a little messed up. But a throat sweet won't help so it's kind of pointless." He stared at the ashtray which had several butts in it already. "But I shouldn't be smoking those till it's better anyway."

"But you are anyway. We can give going after Charon another try, if you feel up to it tonight. Or we can rest up, lick our wounds, and try again tomorrow night. But that's cutting it close, what with the festival the next day and all."

Victor sighed, and lit another clove.

"I'm not sure he can raise the demon in you now, what with the mess you left of his summoner, and followers, I think we don't have to worry anymore."

Shaper sniffed and sighed softly.

"Your omelet is burning..."

"It is not," Victor snorted. "And we're going after him today, as in after breakfast." He deftly flipped the omelet. "As in daylight, as in, crispy fried Charon if I get my god damned hands on him."

"Oh. Well, in that case, I'm going back to bed for a little then. Wake me when you want me to start getting ready."

Shaper came back in a few scant heartbeats later, the mask on, and his claws out. He looked shaken, and nervous.

"How the hell can he do this? First that rose and card a few days back, now... there's a fraggin' DEAD stray DOG torn up on my bed! And it couldn't have been Amy... she's much neater and considerate than that. What in the nine hells IS Charon?"

"What rose and card?"

Shaper hissed.

"Damnit. Never mind. He invited me out to the cemetery to talk... that night you woke up alone... that's when this mess started. That's when he left the rose. For me. And that card. I thought you saw it...?"

Victor raised an eyebrow. "No." He flipped the omelet onto a plate and re-greased the pan. "Did you clean it up?"

"What?"

"Is there still a dead dog in your bed?"

"Uh..."

"Because you get no breakfast 'till it's gone, and you can't kick ass on an empty stomach. Proven fact."

"Why are you taking this so calmly?"

"If I panic it'll hurt my throat," Victor explained. "Anyway, it won't really accomplish anything. Besides," he said with a small smile, "when was the last time you saw me panic?"

Shaper started to slip out of the room, and paused, looking over his shoulder.

"Whitewater, and quite possibly that thing with the dog. But I wasn't sure... because I was panicking too." And went to go clean up the mess on the couch.

It took two hours to get the blood and guts cleaned up, and even then Shaper was balking at the idea he'd have to sleep there again tonight. So, washed up, weary, and at last, hungry, Shaper slinked back into the kitchen.

"It's gone," he said, slipping into a chair at the table. Victor put a plate and a new cup of coffee down in front of Shaper.

"And there you go. Eat up quick. I want to get looking before dusk."

And Shaper ate, quickly, and downed yet another mug of coffee.

It was amazing how much caffeine the rizen partook of, Victor simply figured it was what kept his little undead body going.

"I'm ready..." Shaper said softly. "And tonight, damned if I'm sleeping on that couch."

"Oh," asked Victor, shrugging into his jacket, "where are you planning on sleeping?"

The sun shone just enough to qualify as being up. The light didn't really give any heat, and Victor was glad of his woolen socks and sweater. Shaper skittered out after him, still wearing the fishnet ensemble under his coat and sighed, watching his breath fog up, then vanish into the air.

"Well. I'm not sleeping on that couch. The floor is looking mighty good after THAT," he hissed, then shivered. "I shoulda dressed warmer. Err. Where are we going to start?"

"That is possibly the wussyest thing I've ever heard you say."

"Hey!"

"Look, you cleaned it up right?"

"Yes. If you let it keep you from a good night's sleep, it's pretty well letting Charon win. He bugged you."

The supernatural investigator tapped out a clove and lit it. "Anyway, I have no clue. We're going to start at the north side of the city and investigate everything that looks like it could be a vampire den. Right after we stop by the station and leave a note for Detective Hillman on what we're doing, since we'll probably scare up more crooks than fangs."

And so they started. It was a long day, but they didn't stay very long in one place moving from dive to dive, and from one dark subbasement to another. North side, west side, east side.

"Damn it this is getting frustrating!" swore Shaper. "He's got to be somewhere."

"Everybody's somewhere," muttered Victor. He moved to light another clove and found his pack empty. He glanced around. "Hell, I'm going into that store for a sec. Be right back."

Shaper nodded.

"Pick me up a pack too, will you? I'll pay you back later... k? There's something I think I want to go check out." He paused, then looked at Victor. "I'm going back to the house. If I don't come back, at least you'll know why."

"Don't be an ass. Just wait here for a second, the house is practically where we're heading next."

"Oh. Alright then. And I'm not being an ass. I wanted to go there ahead of you and make sure my... Merrill's respective ghosts were laid finally to rest. In case I went apeshit again."

"Ass," muttered Victor, and went into the store.

Shaper stuck his tongue out at the retreating investigator's back, then decided that was a bad idea, 'cause it was really cold. Victor came back out and tossed a pack of cloves to Shaper, and they ambled down the street.

Victor started up an almost conversation, as they poked their noses into possible places that a vampire could haven.

"What makes you think that going out without backup is a good idea? Damn, I don't know what the fuck has gotten into you lately."

"So I'm a little moody and irritable," growled Shaper. "What's the matter, afraid I'm muscling in on your territory?"

Victor blew smoke in Shaper's face. "Bite me." He turned away and walked down the street. "Of course if you try it, I'm gonna have to kick your ass all the way back to Vampruim."

Shaper subsided from his 'sneak up and bite Victor' pose. "Damn."

"In pretty good shape for a house that was supposed to have been burnt down," Victor commented, cupping his hands around the end of the cigarette as he lit it.

"Yeah," Shaper said thoughtfully. "Why didn't we notice this before?"

"You were too busy freaking, and I was too busy watching you freak."

"Oh yeah."

Shaper put his mask on, then shut his eyes for a moment, and looked back at the house.

His eyes went wide. He took off the mask, and handed it to Victor.

"Look - it's illusion. There's not even anything but a grass-filled blackened ruin and the shed out behind the house. I THOUGHT it had all burnt down, but I can't figure out why I didn't burn to ashes with it." He sighed. "Charon's inside I'd bet - otherwise why would he waste magic on making the house look like this?"

"Nope, ain't puttin' that thing on," Victor declined. "But I can think of a reason why Charon would waste magic making this look like it was still here."

He began digging around in his pouch. Having been told it was an illusion, it was tugging at his eyes, trying to get him to believe it was there, while he was telling it, no it wasn't. And it was getting annoying. He had something in the pouch somewhere that broke illusions. Somewhere.

Shaper sighed.

"But why did he do it? Did he know I was here? This looked like it's been up and working since Merrill died. So why would Charon have worked this all up if he thought I was dead?"

"You're giving me a headache, Shape. First it's Merrill, then it's 'I.'" Victor sighed, and pulled out a crystal vial of something. "Here it is. As to why he did it, do I look like Charon to you?"

"I dunno... in this light... maybe if you hadn't had cloves or coffee for a couple of days."

"Aw shut up," Victor said, suppressing a smirk. Shaper was obviously feeling better if he was making cracks like that.

"And you'd need to cut your nose off too, but I digress. I take it we're going to go in and find out just WHY this was put here, and what it meant to us - to me I mean... err... Merrill..." Shaper shook his head and left the mask off, giving it a look that would have killed anything alive. "Damn thing's messing with my head again..."

"No, I think that's just you." Victor shook out a handful of the dust onto his palm, after removing his gloves. "This is gonna be a lot harder in the rain," he muttered grumpily to himself, before stepping forward and blowing on the miraculously dry dust. It puffed up becoming what appeared to be a burning cloud, floating through the rain to rest on the house from rooftree to foundation. After inhaling again, after his long exhalation Victor brought his hands together in a sharp clap. The dust glittered brightly, and the house disappeared, leaving a glittering outline of dust before that was washed away in the rain, leaving the sad remains of a house that had burnt long ago.

"I think I liked it better the other way..." Shaper hissed, forcing himself to NOT remember. He'd locked away and burnt up all he could of who he had been, and the mask was tugging at the remaining threads... trying to get him to remember it all again.

With a scowl, the lanky youth dug black tinted nails into the mask's enamel. Hard and powerful enough to send a spider web of cracks along its chin area.

"Stop that," he hissed again, and moved towards the house.

Victor rolled his eyes, pulling his gloves back on. Maybe he just didn't see it, but Shaper seemed to be taking the whole thing way too seriously. Of course it was Shaper's death, not his. But it didn't explain, if Shaper was so obsessed about this, why he kept missing the obvious.

Inside the house, it stank. Burnt timbers creaked ominously under his feet. Shaper led the way as if he knew it all by heart. Merrill was affecting him still... though he was only vaguely aware of it.

"The basements steps are this way... if he's not down there, he'll be in the shed out back... but then, the illusion wouldn't make any sense."

"Shape!" called Victor, skirting the scorched timbers of the house, feet kicking up water from the tall grass. "The shed? Remember? We were going to check that, not wander around in ashes?" It was too late, Shaper had already disappeared into the desecrated remains of the farm house. Faintly Victor could hear the rizen's voice over the sound of the rain, as if he thought Victor was behind him. The very wet supernatural hunter opened the door to the shed and peered in. There was nothing in there - but it was still too neat for a shed at an abandoned house.

Shaper sighed and steeled himself. He took two deep breaths, and stepped down the stone staircase to the basement. It was damp from the rain, chilly, dark, and smelt of wet burnt wood. Slowly, using the mask, whether he wanted to or not for its night vision, he began to search the first room. The rizen jumped a good foot or more as something velvet-soft and cool slid over his cheek. With a hiss, he spun about and stared into Charon's eyes.

"Hello. I was wondering when you'd get here - my sweet." In the thing's hand was a single red rose. Shaper hissed and flattened himself against the wall, his own eyes going wide.

"I am NOT your pet, or lover, or sweet anymore, get over it you greasy faceless son of a mullet!" And Shaper lashed out, hitting something solid... but it was a chunk of furniture that had survived the fire, and weathering. Charon wasn't there... but the rose remained, a silent reminder of what Merrill and Charon had shared.

And why Shaper had blocked it away.