Raving Moon, Lords of the Night Book One

Chapter 6: The Man in the Jar

I called home an apartment building on a residential street four blocks from the train, bordered on either corner by large housing developments. One was claimed by the Pack of Brown Fangs, the other by The Night Wolves. Both pack alphas were old enemies, putting my neighbors and I in the center of a constant turf war. The local human gangs fought over drugs and money, but the packs fought over hunting grounds and soldiers. I'd spoken to their alphas twice, and my efforts had turned my block into an oasis in a desert of violence. They know our third conversation will end in bloodshed.

I checked my mailbox, and found another notice from the building manager reminding me that my rent was past due. I chuckled to myself. I was never on time with the rent, and I imagine the building manager was extremely concerned, but seeing as I owned the management company I wasn't too worried. The company owned three buildings in Medusa and I moved to a different one every decade or so. It kept me from overstaying my welcome and drawing too much attention from the locals. It was bad enough I was a tall black man with white hair, barely aging would be the icing on the cake.

My apartment was at the top of the four floor walkup. I put the key in the door and felt my wards deactivate. After a moment I unlocked the door and went in. The dim light of my place was offset by the spell circle directly above my welcome mat. It glowed a deep blue, casting the world in an azure hue. I hung up my jacket, and stepped out of my shoes. With a yawn, I took an apple from the kitchen counter and plopped down on the couch. I sat in the blue gloom and ate my breakfast, savoring the crisp, sweet taste. My taste buds needed to be stimulated every morning, as if awakened from the dead. Flavors were intensified, especially sweet and salty. The first meal of the day always tasted special.

"That must have been one long movie."

"I didn't even get to see it," I responded.

Yawning, I used the arm of the couch to get myself up again. I walked over, and opened the living room closet. Sitting on a shelf was a self-contained glass jar. Within swirled a green mist.

"Really? I was looking forward to hearing about it." The disembodied voice seemed to echo off the walls. "Another movie about Dracula. It makes me miss my eyes." A skeletal mouth formed of the mist enunciated each syllable with an eerie delay.

"It's not like they ever get them right... you would think someone would stumble across the truth by mistake."

I pulled on the shelf and it extended on a long track until the jar sat in the middle of the room. The mouth vanished within the mist to be replaced by a large spectral eye.

"Stoker did too great a job."

"True." I yawned. "Truth is, I was tempted to see the movie about the possessed doll."

"Was that a ghost joke?"

"A little one," I laughed as I threw the apple core in the trash and grabbed another. The flavor wasn't as sharp, but it was still good. I returned to my seat on the couch.

In life Philippe was not only a friend, but also my first instructor in witchcraft. In death he'd become my confidant, and advisor. The glass jar was an enchantment of his own devising which trapped his essence on this plane instead of allowing it to travel onward. His magic had fled, but his mind remained.

"So what happened?"

"The kid never showed, and when I called to check on him he didn't answer the phone. Something told me to call around, and I found him hiding in Dark Town."

"Stygia of all places. Let me guess, you got into a fight."

"Why do you always assume I got into a fight?"