Here we are again, with chapter 6 of 8 of Nevarmore – and my last update of 2006.

Unfortunately since, once again, the site's alert system is down (and are we really surprised at this point?), it could well be 2007 by the time you get the update alert for this. If this is the case, I hope you had an excellent New Year's celebration. Also, since I last left you on 23rd December with this fic, I am also hoping you all had a great Christmas and enjoyed love, togetherness, good food, music and TV, the religious side of the celebration and got lots of neat presents. :)

One of my best presents was a 4-disc Batman: The Animated Series box set; and the irony of this is that in more than one of the episodes on the DVDs, a character who is mentioned in this chapter (as being an associate of Crane) shows up. Anyone who is familiar with either On Leather Wings or Tyger, Tyger should recognize this guy.

I also received another awesome present a few days after Christmas, but this is one present I can share with you all. Yes, and perhaps you saw it coming – I have another music video!

Well, it's not exactly a music video – anyone who read my fic Black Magic may remember seeing a video made by Flying02Fish, which was not a music video as such, but rather a mock trailer, made to look as though Black Magic was a real movie. It was awesome, with lines of dialogue from the Teen Titans show played over the footage, and it all gelled really well and made Black Magic look a lot better than it really is… Well, Flying02Fish is back with a trailer for Nevarmore!

I briefly considered if a video for Nevarmore could ever be made – and dismissed the idea of it. Nevarmore is an Elseworlds fic, set in Victorian-era Gotham – the Titans dress out-of-character, talk out-of-character, and overall are out-of-character. I just didn't think it could be done.

But Flying02Fish found a way around it, and the result is fantastic! The soundtrack of the trailer she made (totaling at one minute and thirty one seconds, so there's no excuse for you not to watch it…) is the US Van Helsing cinema trailer (we got a different one over here, I recall) and she even lip-synced it! Now you get to hear Robin talking like Hugh Jackman and Starfire talking like Kate Beckinsale (in character as Anna, complete with Transylvanian accent…). Most amazing of all… and don't ask me how she did it… She managed to do this effect where it looks like, very briefly, Robin is wearing a cross around his neck. It's really awesome… O.o

The clips are a mixture of the Teen Titans TV show, Teen Titans: Trouble in Tokyo and the anime series Hellsing. Robin's ultra-cool "Shinjuku" outfit from Trouble in Tokyo represents his Victorian-esque "shirt/waistcoat/cravat" garb for the purpose of the video. For some reason both Red X and Professor Chang show up in there very briefly – not quite sure why that is, since they aren't in the fic, but even Commander Uehara Daizo shows up, which is kinda cool since he was referred to in the fourth chapter, The Telltale Heart.

Please check it out – there's a new link to it at the very top of my profile!

And here is an ironic little chain about it all: Nevarmore is a Teen Titans Elseworlds fic, "starring" Robin in a vampire slayer-type role, like Van Helsing; the Nevarmore trailer is put to a Van Helsing soundbite, in which Robin "takes" Van Helsing's role; Van Helsing himself was played by Hugh Jackman; Hugh Jackman was recently in The Prestige (awesome film, go see it!) with Christian Bale; Christian Bale's most famous role was in Batman Begins, as Batman himself; Batman is the mentor/partner of Robin, who is in Teen Titans

Big circle, everyone's happy; and on with the show!

(Thankyous are down bottom today, since I talked too much up here…)

Nevarmore – VI

The Masque of the Red Death

It was something of a stupor that he found himself in as he wandered down the dark street, gripping his stake in one hand.

Not a drunken stupor; no, the slayer was stone-cold sober.

More of a trance; and one induced by her.

What had he done?

He had just lived the most wonderful few moments of his short life, but at what price?

He had taken from the innocent Lenore exactly that; her innocence. Of what worth was she now?

But oh, how she had made him feel – she had been so hungry for him; so ravenous, animal, alien. She had pulled him to her, near tearing his clothes from him as he had dared to pull off her nightgown. The hunger of the frustrated virgin, wanting for so much, and when faced with this – this, this… boy

And truthfully, he had been as innocent as her in that respect.

He had never felt so wanted – he was used to moving from place to place, making brief acquaintances with tolerable people, before moving on. He knew he was not much of a party favor – he was in no way a horrible person, but he was so closed-up (and often scowling) that he seemed unapproachable. He gave off a rather gloomy vibe and therefore people simply put up with him, ignoring him and his ways for the most part.

Cyborg, an old-time friend, was an exception, and Beast Boy had been forced to get to know him.

But Starfire…

…She truly wanted him. She loved him, even, despite knowing him for hardly any time at all.

The problem was that he loved her back; and too much.

She wanted him to ask her father for her hand. For heaven's sake, she wanted to marry him. She wanted to be his for all eternity; and for every night to be shared just as this one had been, only for longer.

Legitimately. Without him having to leap up and dress in fear of being forever scorned by her father.

Oh, how he wanted such a thing.

But he could not accept. He could not cause her such pain. Because he loved her.

But…

He paused, taking a deep breath. He did not know how long he had left to live – maybe only a few months.

Maybe a few years.

Maybe he could—

His breath caught and he doubled up, coughing mercilessly as once again his lungs seemed to collapse on themselves, restricting any air to them and he began to taste that bitter, rancid, rotten taste, mixed with the salty tang of blood—

Gripping the railings at the side of the pavement, he choked up another lungful of black bloody gunk onto the sidewalk.

As though to punctuate the point that Lenore could never be his.

No. She could not be his. Nevermore.

He gritted his teeth against the tears as he pulled a handkerchief from his belt to wipe his mouth; it wasn't fair. He didn't want to die. He wanted to live; he wanted to be happy. He wanted to become an adult – a man – and he wanted to marry and he wanted—

He wanted so much of what he knew he could not ever have.

No. It could not be his. Nevermore.

Because if he wasn't like this – if he wasn't cursed and dying… would he even be living this life? Would he be chasing beasts and specters, vampires and unholy vermin?

Would he be seeking revenge; and comfort in that?

No. He would not. Nevermore.

He wiped the few tears away fiercely – oh, he had cried when he had learned. How he had cried. But now, for the most part, he dealt with it the way he dealt with any and every dreadful fiend he dispatched to Hell.

Emotionlessly.

He could not marry Lenore; and so realized that he had to simply carry the guilt of tainting her, for it was beyond him to make an honest woman of her. She had discerned as much that he was ill, despite his denying of his sickness, and didn't seem to mind that he was obviously far from healthy – but if she knew the full extent (that he was dying), it was possible that… even she would not want him. A young woman as passionate as Starfire demanded a husband who would fulfill her in every way, protect her and make her happy – and he, sickly as he was, could not offer her that.

Perhaps it would be best if he did not return to the House of Usher during the remainder of his stay in Gotham. He could stop in to see Usher at the morgue instead; and he only prayed she would not think it was cowardice that prevented his return. The truth was that he could not bear to torture himself – he did not want to look upon something that he might have, if only he were not cursed. She, who wanted him… it would be torture to her too. Similarly, it was not within him to go browsing in expensive restaurants when he did not have the price of a meal in his pocket – life was Hell enough without self-torture.

And of course his red death would not allow him a life that was anything other than Hell.

He sat on a low wall, folding his handkerchief and putting it away; replacing it in his hand with his stake. It was, after all, hunting time…

As it happened, he did not have to hunt very hard at all – or even begin to hunt. A sudden dark shadow swept right over him, as though that of a…

giant bird

He looked upwards sharply; and there, in the sky, soaring overhead, it was.

An unmistakable large black bird.

Springing to his feet, Robin broke into a run, following it on the ground. There was no was he was going to let it kill someone else, not when he had pretty much "caught it in the act"; so he pounded after it, through deserted streets, past noisy alehouses and lively gentleman's clubs, on and on and on, until a stitch tore at his side and he felt ready to collapse with exhaustion.

Where was it going? As the empty streets began to thin, giving way to private pasture, it began to register in his brain. He recognized this land, for he had been here twice already.

He stopped to get his breath, leaning against a tree and rubbing at his side.

And looked up in horror and dismay across the grounds of the house; at the magnificent Wayne Manor.

Raven!

Last night it had gone for Lenore before taking Jinx – this night it meant to take Wayne's step-daughter.

Unless he stopped it.

With a renewed burst of breath and strength and determination, the slayer made short work of the front grounds as he watched the shadowy beast slip around the side of the house, still airborne. Following it still at a run, he pulled his grappling hook from his belt, ready to follow it wherever it might find her.

Scraping to a halt, he looked up – three floors up, the creature was disappearing through a slightly open window like a whisper. Looking wildly around, he saw a tree – if he timed it properly, he could probably jump from its branches into the room. He swung his grappling hook back a few times and released it, tangling it in the tree's branches; he quickly hauled himself up to the first few branches and from there (leaving his grappling hook) quickly worked his way up the tree.

Raven had not screamed yet.

Scrabbling up to the highest, flimsiest branches, Robin clung on with one hand while reaching across to push the window fully open with his other; and from there gathered some leverage before springing the gap. He caught the windowsill with his gut as well as his hands and slipped, winded; gritting his teeth, he hauled himself up again and tumbled into the room. Panting, he knelt up – he wasn't in the best of shape right now to be fighting a vampire, but…

He looked around.

Her room was dark. And empty.

There was no creature. And no Raven; nor any evidence of either of them. He had definitely seen the beast come in here, but then surely, were it hunting for her, it would have slammed the door open, splintered the wood?

The door was closed; and immaculate.

Perplexed, Robin pulled a red candle from a sheath in his boot and a book of matches from another; lighting the candle, he held it up to give himself some light as he slipped the matchbook away again.

He gave a little shudder as he looked around her room; and he had thought Usher's office was creepy…?

But while the room may have been full of things that were, in a lot of ways, just as horrifying as some of the beasts he had fought – gaunt, blank-eyed masks, gothic pillars and even a few raven ornaments – it was utterly devoid of any trace of the Raven Murderer, as well as Raven herself.

It had definitely been this window, right?

But even if he had gotten the wrong window, he would only be in the room next door – he would hear screams and scufflings.

But the silence was unbroken.

He went to the door to inspect it – but yes, as he had suspected, there was not a scratch in it. He tried it.

It was locked. Locked from the inside.

So where had the creature gone?

He looked around for any adjoining doors leading to and from Raven's bedroom (he had conjectured this much), but he found nothing. So had it simply vanished?

No, vampires couldn't do such things – he knew that much.

Frowning in puzzlement – because this was the second time today he had broken and entered somewhere and not found what he had been expecting to – he shone the candle around her room again. The light passed over her desk and he was drawn to it, noticing that there seemed to be a number of items on there.

Nothing of much interest. A few books – a collection of short stories by someone called Edgar Allan Poe; Robin couldn't say he had heard of him… A gas lamp, unlit, and a few candles. Incense. And—

He almost dropped his candle, his blood running cold.

There, on Raven Roth's desk, were Jonathan Crane's fear psychology journals.

TT

Dressed in white – immaculate, virginal white – she waited for him. She waited for him with flaming red hair, emerald eyes, honeyed skin and a smile that outshone the fire of a thousand stars.

The rare and radiant maiden whom the angels named Lenore.

She took his arm, turning her face away; but the veil obscured her anyway.

He was not altogether surprised to find himself standing before the altar with her; he in a perfect, well-cut suit, crimson silk cravat and top hat, she in a beautiful pearl-sewn wedding gown. Here, it didn't surprise him at all.

Cyborg offered him a serene smile, dressed in white and gold robes and holding a white leather-bound Bible open in front of him. Resting on its pages were two gold rings and, between them, a stake.

It was an ugly contrast, but here, he did not question it.

He questioned nothing, because this was what he wanted.

This was what he could not have.

"There is a problem," Cyborg said suddenly, running his gaze over the two of them.

"And what might this be?" Robin barbed, irritated. "What in heaven's name could you possibly find wrong with this ceremony of matrimony, Cyborg?"

Cyborg nodded towards Starfire.

"The girl. Your bride." His eyes narrowed. "She is not a virgin."

Starfire tightened her grip on Robin's arm, while the slayer rounded on Cyborg in her defense;

"And how can you know such a thing?" He snapped. "You insult my bride as she stands before you, about to be wed to me?"

"It is a thing which you should know."

"You cannot prove that it is true."

"Rather, my boy, I can." Cyborg nodded towards the girl and Robin turned to her.

She gave a little cry as she too looked down at herself and saw that her white dress was beginning to turn black, the colorless color creeping up from the bottom as though she was standing in a puddle of ink.

"White is a virgin's color," Cyborg said rather smugly as the poor girl looked down at herself in horror. "And she is no virgin. But you knew this, did you not, sir?"

"Yes, I knew it!" Robin clutched her hand. "It is I who took it from her!"

"I thought as much…"

"Then why the procrastination? If you would please just wed us…"

"Very well… Take the rings, if you would."

Robin snatched the rings off the Bible and slipped the smaller gold band onto Starfire's finger; the whole of her skirt was black, and her bodice was beginning to become flecked with it now too.

"I am so tainted," she whispered.

Robin shook his head.

"It matters not, sweet Lenore." He handed her his own ring to put on his finger. "What matters is that I love you. I love you more than anything…"

She smiled and put the ring on for him, whereupon he turned away from her again, adjusting his top hat a little as he turned his icy gaze back on Cyborg.

"Well?"

"Then it is done," Cyborg murmured in reply. "I pronounce you man and wife. You may kiss your bride, slayer."

Robin gave a sharp little nod and turned to Starfire again. Her entire dress had turned to black, as had her veil. He could see nothing of her face now, and it appeared that she could no longer see him, but he took her hand as she blindly reached for him. He took hold of her veil and flipped it upwards, back over her hair—

And reeled back in horror, gasping.

Not Lenore. Not Starfire.

Raven.

She smiled lazily at him, grasping him by the throat.

"What troubles you, sir?" She purred. "Do you not wish to kiss your bride?"

"You…" he gasped out, clawing at her abnormally-strong hand. "You are not…"

Her violet eyes danced.

"Your sweet Lenore?" She crooned. "Yes, I dealt with her, I am afraid. What will you do, slayer?"

Flipping his legs up, Robin kicked her in the chest, twisting away from her as she toppled, crashing up against the front pews. Swinging around, the slayer grasped the stake from the Bible Cyborg held, flipping it over expertly in his hand.

Raven sat up, ripping the veil off and simply smiling at him.

"You will kill me? Is this any way to treat a young woman?"

"It is what I do."

"Ah, yes, this I know…"

Taking the brim of his top hat, Robin whipped it off his head, flipping it high into the air. The distraction worked, for she looked up at it; and he dived in towards her, grasping her hair and positioning the tip of the stake centimeters from her heart.

The hat hit the floor next to Cyborg, who hadn't moved at all since Robin had snatched the stake.

"Where is Starfire?" Robin hissed angrily.

"Lost to you for evermore," Raven replied softly. "You know this. You know you may not have her."

"Stop playing with me!" Robin snapped.

"Alas, deception is my nature." Raven looked at him boredly, horrendous in Lenore's black wedding gown. "Kill me if it pleases you. You will not get what you want."

"We shall see," was Robin's only reply.

He punched the stake downwards, piercing her heart. She did not cry out, only fell limp and collapsed on the church floor.

Robin sat back with a gasp; looking up as he felt Cyborg's shadow fall across him.

"Murder brings you pleasure?" The priest asked, handing him his hat.

"No."

Cyborg shook his head sadly.

"Then, my boy, what have you done?"

"How do you mean?"

"Look, Robin. Look and see."

Robin slipped his hat back on as he leaned over Raven's body…

Not Raven. Lenore.

Starfire.

"But I…" The slayer looked wildly from Starfire to Cyborg and then back again. "She was… Lenore was not…"

"Did you get what you wanted?" The priest asked icily.

Robin frantically pulled the stake from her chest, shaking her.

"Lenore!" He begged. "Starfire…"

She did not move. Lost to him for evermore.

Sick with horror, Robin turned wildly to the priest, reaching desperately for him.

"Cyborg… please… Victor, h-help me… please…"

But Cyborg stepped back from him, clutching his Bible.

"Alas, my boy, even I cannot help you now. Not even God can help you…"

"Cyborg…!" Another coughing fit started to take him; real, far more real than anything else here, and yet not as horrifying as what had just happened…

"H-help me, please…" He couldn't even plead for the coughing, and as Cyborg faded away from him, he was left curled up on the floor of the church, unable to breathe—

"Robin!"

Something roughly shook him awake; and Robin sat up, still coughing horrendously, grasping at his chest.

Cyborg thumped him on the back frantically; until eventually it all loosened up again. Retching, the slayer tore away from the priest and leaned over the side of the mattress, choking up blood and that tar-like substance.

He sat up again, white in the face, his chin stained red and black; and collapsed back on his mattress, on his back, gasping for breath.

"What in God's name…?" Cyborg stared at him; in a thick dark blue nightgown, the priest looked disheveled himself, as though woken from his own slumber. "Is there something perhaps you might like to explain to me, young sir?"

Robin panted, still with his eyes closed.

"It is nothing…"

"It is most certainly not nothing!" Cyborg snapped. "What do you call this? I was awoken mere moments ago by the sound of your coughing – truly, sir, I thought you were dying. When I came in here to check on you, you were near blue in the face."

"Mmm." Robin massaged his throat. "Breathing is difficult during the fits, I will admit…"

"What "fits" exactly, Richard?"

"Bouts of coughing…" The slayer gave another few tiny coughs into his hand, but no more blood and the like accompanied them.

"You are sick?"

"Something of the sort," Robin admitted.

"What ailment have you?" Cyborg asked warily, eying the substance he had just spat up. "Tuberculosis?"

"Nothing contagious. Do not worry yourself on that front."

"We must get you a doctor."

"A doctor cannot help me." Robin rubbed at his hair. "I thank you for your kind concern, sir, but I am quite alright now. Please, if I might have a drink…?"

Cyborg eyed him warily still. Heaven knew he could not throw him out into the street, not now – but still, he did not want…

He was clearly very ill, and despite his assurance that his ailment was not contagious, it looked remarkably like tuberculosis to Cyborg.

"I will take my leave tomorrow," Robin cut into his thoughts. "I feel that I have burdened you long enough, and I can see that my… sickness worries you. I do not blame you. Your own health is of utmost importance…"

"No, no, sir!"

Cyborg grasped his shoulders – no, he could not turn him away. Not him, not Robin, not his friend…

"You read my expression wrong. I am concerned for you, and could not send you away."

"You do not need to deal with this…" Robin gestured at the gunk he had thrown up. "I do not want you—"

"Leave it for now." Cyborg offered him a hand. "Come, let us descend the stairs to the kitchen. I think a hot drink is in order. Perhaps something to eat – you have not eaten properly since you arrived here."

"Cyborg, I—"

Cyborg was already gone, gesturing for him to wait there. Robin wearily dragged himself out of bed and shivered in his unbuttoned shirt and underwear.

The priest returned shortly, a dressing robe over his own nightgown, and carrying a second for the slayer.

"Here, or you will catch cold." He handed it to the younger boy, who eagerly pulled it on – it was far too big for him, but thick and warm.

"Thankyou."

"You are very welcome. Now come."

Cyborg beckoned to him and Robin followed him downstairs; and questioning himself why a man of such kindness and understanding had appeared as such a snide devil's advocate in…

that dream

The slayer sat at the kitchen table as Cyborg stoked the fire, bringing heat to the room; and watched him further as he made some tea and brought it to the table.

"Now, young sir," the priest mused, pushing a cup across to the younger boy, "would you care to tell me what it is that troubles you?"

"How do you mean, exactly, Cyborg?" Robin asked complacently, bringing his cup to his mouth.

"You have not been right since you arrived back late this evening." Cyborg eyed him steadily. "This you cannot deny. You went out tonight bold of heart and returned not more than an hour or two later pale in the face and shaking. When I questioned you, you did not give me a satisfactory answer and retreated upstairs to write in your journal and retire. You have not eaten, you have not—"

"I know, I know." Robin sighed. "I am sorry to concern you. Perhaps it would be in both our best interests if I were to take my business elsewhere."

"Nonsense!" Cyborg snapped. "I would feel only more concern for you then. What happened this evening? What is it that has shaken you up so?"

"My sickness has nothing to do with—"

"I know. That I shall come to in a moment."

Robin stared at the kitchen table for a very long time.

"Cyborg, I simply… simply do not know… what to do anymore…"

"The beast still roams, I presume?"

"Yes, but I…" Robin buried his face in his hands. "I think… I may have found it, but…"

"Then why have you not slain it?" Cyborg asked. "Richard, there is an entire city out there living in terror, and you—"

"It is not that simple!" Robin burst out angrily. "I do not even know that it is her!"

Cyborg frowned.

"…Her?"

"Yes." Robin's voice was very quiet. "If it is… and I… have never seen anything like…"

"Just what do you speak of, sir?"

Robin finally looked up.

"The irony of this situation, sir," he said slowly, "is that our "Raven Murderer" may be the most screamingly obvious person after all…"

Cyborg appeared puzzled.

"I am afraid that your logic escapes me."

With another sigh, Robin got up from the table and went towards the stairs.

"Where do you think you are going?" Cyborg demanded.

"I shall return momentarily." Robin waved the demand aside and began to ascend the staircase.

"See that you do…"

The priest tapped his fingers on the table impatiently, awaiting the slayer's return. When he did put in his reappearance, Cyborg saw that his arms were laden with books.

"I fail to see how this points to the Raven Murderer, Richard," he said as the slayer ditched the two leather-bound volumes on the table.

Wordlessly, Robin sat down again and pushed the books across at the priest.

Picking one up, Cyborg flicked through it.

"I recall you saying that you didn't take Crane's journals from his office," he said, perplexed.

"I did not take those from his office."

"Then where…?"

"Those are the stolen books, Cyborg."

Cyborg blinked.

"But then, where did you…?" He looked up, distraught. "Who had them?"

Robin was silent for a very long time.

"Raven," he whispered finally. "Raven Roth. Bruce Wayne's stepdaughter."

Aghast, the priest blinked at him still.

"What…? But you…" He looked down at the books. "She had…? But surely that does not mean that she—"

"This is precisely my problem!" Robin interrupted irritably. "She had those books on her desk – those books are our clue, our pointer, if you will, to the Raven Murderer. And she… all this means to me is that she either is the Raven Murderer, or she is working with or for the Raven Murderer. She cannot be so innocent as to have simply borrowed those books from the library when the place was torn apart, presumably in search of them."

"It had not crossed your mind that she maybe took the books to prevent the actual Raven Murder from getting his fiendish hands on them?" Cyborg asked, placing them neatly on top of one another.

"A brief scenario," Robin agreed scathingly. "The only conclusion that brings me to is that if she took them to prevent the real Raven Murderer from getting them, she knew the creature was there, or rather, knew he would be coming, in which case she has been lying to me. Any which direction you may turn, Cyborg, she is guilty in one way or another, whether she is the killer, is working with the killer, or is following the killer herself. The trouble is that I do not know which of these accusations I may pin upon her…"

"Then you cannot simply attack her with your stake," Cyborg pointed out worriedly.

"I know!" Robin snapped in exasperation. "Do you see? Do you see my problem?"

He got up, pacing restlessly and unsettlingly once again.

"What must I do? I think that she is the killer – that is my personal belief – but I cannot slay her, as I have no cement proof, and if she is not, then I will have committed the murder of an innocent person. But if she is the murderer, then my uncertainty of this fact is allowing her to get away with her monstrous tirade while I dither."

"What makes you so certain that she is the creature?"

"There is…" The slayer gave a little shiver. "There is something about her. A little something that unnerves me. Me, Cyborg – and I am a slayer. I deal with these things day in and day out. But it is something I cannot place – if she is a vampire, she is not of a normal breed. I have seen her, standing there in pure daylight, and yet…"

"Vampires typically have not this ability," Cyborg finished wearily. "This is very confusing position in which we find ourselves, Richard."

"This I know, believe me…"

Robin sank back into his seat again, putting his head in his hands.

"I have read a little of the books," he went on. "Of Crane's journals."

"Your deduction?"

"The man was utterly insane." Robin snapped his fingers irritably in the direction of the books. "He speaks of his theories of fear, and that humankind should respect the very notion of it, for it can rule society. In a lot of ways, he may be right – the creatures I fight against use fear as a weapon, certainly. But the manner in which he writes… it is frightening, Cyborg. He was fascinated by it, that much is certain."

"Any pointers towards our Raven Murderer case? Why the girl – if it is her – should wish to steal them?"

"Yes. A few pages on symbols of fear make up the first chapter of the second volume."

Robin reached for the required book and flipped through it to find the pages he was looking for – four pages of spidery scrawl, accompanied by a few inked illustrations.

"Here. He speaks of the designs of the fear of men. Symbols which we have been taught to be afraid of, symbols associated with death, sadness, witchcraft, occult…"

He pointed to Crane's illustrations; a pentagram, a crucifix turned upside down, a bat, a raven, a full moon, a noose, a black cat, and something which might have been the Reaper.

Cyborg reached across for it to examine it more closely, and Robin handed it to him.

"He speaks briefly also of a man named Dr Kirk Langstrom," the slayer went on. "I assume he worked with him for a time, for research purposes, but there is no further information on the man in either journal. There is possibly yet another set of notes, of which we have no knowledge."

"The killer…?"

"I do not know. I do not know if our killer knows of these other notes – if indeed there are any."

"And what makes you think there might be?"

"He speaks of Langstrom and their "research", but such research is not recorded within that journal. He wrote also of Langstrom's "genius", so it has occurred to me that perhaps these further notes are Langstrom's own."

"Then you will seek this Dr Langstrom?"

Robin shook his head.

"I have not the time now, Cyborg – I cannot be chasing irrelevant leads. Whoever Dr Langstrom is – or was, depending – he is of little importance to the current case. I can waste no more time."

"And what of your sickness?" Cyborg asked tentatively.

Robin looked up again.

"It is nothing," he replied tersely. "Nothing but a mere infection."

"I do not—"

"Cyborg, please." Robin's mouth became a tight little line. "I appreciate your concern for my wellbeing, and please do not think me ungrateful, but my business is my own; I would greatly appreciate it if you would let the subject lie."

Cyborg opened his mouth, then closed it again after a few moments.

"Very well, I will not pry," he said finally. "But I do not desire to see you sick. If I can help you, please…"

"There is…" Robin exhaled deeply and heavily and sadly. "There is nothing you can do. But thankyou."

He smiled at the priest – the first genuine smile that someone other than Lenore had managed to draw out of him.

"Then if you will not answer me that," Cyborg replied softly, "at least answer me this."

"And what might "this" be?"

"Why were you even in Miss Roth's chamber?"

Robin shifted uncomfortably – not because he was guilty in relation to Raven, but in relation to…

"I had just come from the House of Usher after…" He faltered, clearing his throat; hoping a blush was not creeping up his pale face. "…After consulting with Dr Usher himself about the nature of the murder of poor Jinx only last night. It was as I left the premises and started the walk back into the city that I saw, in the sky, flying as though truly the bird from which it takes its name, this great hideous creature, as black as any night I have ever seen – for it seemed to cut a yet darker hole in the sky itself. I recognized it as the creature which had attacked Lenore only the night previous to this."

"I presume you gave chase?"

"Such a presumption would be correct."

"And what of it?"

"I followed the foul beast right throughout the town and beyond, and yes, I will admit that by this point I was greatly exhausted, but since the creature showed no sign of stopping, so then neither could I yield. Upon arriving at the grounds of Wayne Manor, it was my conjecture that the beast had set its murderous sights on Wayne's stepdaughter."

"And had it?"

"This is where I remain unsure." Robin laced his fingers together absently. "I saw the creature flying upwards, towards the window of Raven's very chamber. I followed it, using a tree to give myself height, but upon my entrance of her room, I found…"

"You found…?"

"Darkness." Robin frowned deeply. "Darkness there, and nothing more."

"You found… nothing?"

Robin nodded solemnly.

"That is correct. Her room was empty and, more to the point, untouched. There was no sign of any entrance by anything – any bird or beast at all. I do not see how the beast could have left unless it was little more than a spectral being."

"But vampires are not—"

"I know. This is why I cannot figure out just what it is that I am up against!" Robin snapped in frustration.

"And the girl herself?"

"Nowhere in the vicinity. I was about to leave when I found upon her desk…"

Robin gestured at the books on the table angrily.

"You think that it is her, then?"

"If she is not the murderer, then she at least has something to do with this," Robin griped. "She is not ignorant, and yet pretends to be, mocking me as she does so. It makes sense now, if the murderer is her."

"And how do you surmise this?"

"The Raven Murderer deliberately destroyed the Wayne Manor News Archive because it – or she – knew that I was gathering information upon the murders. I met Raven only that morning in the archive, and as good as admitted my occupation to her, since we talked of it. Lord, Cyborg, I even told her what I was doing – gathering information upon the killings. It is suspicious then, do you not think, that first of all the library is dismantled, and the books stolen, only to be found upon her desk?"

"I admit that it seems to be a very solid case against her," Cyborg replied quietly. "But a young lady like her…"

"If she is a vampire, Cyborg, she is far from a young lady… They are notorious for being beautiful on the outside, hiding their foul hearts. To deceive is their nature."

"But you can do nothing unless you can actually prove—"

"This I know. However, she is… Cyborg, she has outsmarted me already, it would seem. She is, ironically, hiding in plain sight – a girl with the name of the murders, and dismissed as a suspect because it seems to be too much of a coincidence. She is a devious one; a devious one indeed."

"Then what will you do? How far must the death toll rise? A young lady killing other young ladies? This madness and horror must end, and you know it; so tell me, Richard. What will you do?"

"The only thing I can."

Robin stood up as Cyborg blinked at him.

"And what might that be?"

"On the morrow, I shall leave Gotham by cab and travel to a small place outside of Metropolis."

Cyborg blinked.

"What? Why?"

The slayer took his cup to the sink, sighing at his disheveled reflection in the cracked porcelain.

"To get help, of course."

"You…? Why must you leave the…? And who…?" Cyborg couldn't get the words out.

Robin looked over his shoulder at him, rinsing out his teacup.

"One thing I have learned, Cyborg; when there is trouble, you should know who to call…"

TT

Incidentally, the slayer did know whom to call upon in his hour of (slayage) need.

In a tiny remote village a few miles east of Metropolis – out deep in the woodlands – there lived a wise woman; a reader of the Tarot, a scryrer of the Great Arts.

The slayer did not like her particularly, for she was not the friendliest of people, and scathing towards him at the best of times. But the point was that he knew her well, and she him.

For she was his trainer; in martial arts, and in the skill and knowledge of the slayer.

He knew not her name, simply referring to her, as everyone did, by the title "The True Master".

What he did know was that she was not going to be pleased to see him. Not when he needed to ask for something so…

The cab drew to a halt as the path began to get narrower and more dangerous; he knew it was suicidal to force a horse and cab down through woodland. Picking up his bag, he hopped down from the cab as the driver held the door open for him.

"You are quite sure this is where you want to be?" The man asked, eyeing the dark woods warily. "A young man like you?"

Robin nodded, handing over his fare.

"Yes, sir. I thank you."

The driver shrugged and nodded.

"Good morning to you, sir."

"Good morning," Robin replied mildly as the cab turned and made its way back up the path; he was quite sure the driver had not heard him.

With a sigh, slipping a stake discreetly into one hand, he started down the path as it grew darker and narrower.

It was a very long walk.

By the time he reached the village – minute, rural, almost backward compared to the modern cities that he traveled to and fro from – he suspected it was almost noon.

He ignored – as usual – the glances and the whispers that accompanied his arrival at the village and short walk through it to the furthermost house.

This house… It was not Wayne Manor. It was not the House of Usher. It was not even Cyborg's humble parish house.

It was little more than a shack, constructed from crumbling stone, with a leaking roof and only one window. It always saddened him to see it, simply for what it was – and for what it wasn't. It saddened him that an old lady had to live such a hovel existence; but on the other hand, she certainly didn't seem to mind, almost daring anyone to pity her.

He paused for a second or two outside the door, taking a deep breath; then knocked.

Almost immediately the door swung open and a walking stick was thrust outwards, spooking him into a rapid retreat of a few steps.

"It is me," he said desperately, hoping she would not (as she had done before) slam the door in his face.

"Hm." The old lady – the True Master – stepped out, eying him beadily. "Yes, it would appear so."

She lowered her stick.

"And what might you want, boy?"

"I… I have need of—"

"Come!" She said sharply, interrupting him. She turned away and went back into the house, beckoning to him. "It is cold."

He followed her, ducking aside as she shut the door with her stick.

"I am sorry to—" Robin started again.

"I should say so."

The old woman waved her hand at him, motioning for him to shut up; instead lighting up several candles in addition to those that were already lit. Incense burned; filling the whole tiny house with the heavy Oriental scents of jasmine and lotus. It was pleasant, but overpowering, and the slayer found himself rather light-headed as he watched her go to her small table in the middle of the one downstairs room. It was dark and cluttered, scrolls and various weapons and artifacts – mostly of an Oriental origin – piled on every surface and on the floor.

"I—"

"Silence." The True Master pushed out a chair opposite hers at the tiny table. "Just sit. We will proceed momentarily."

"But how…?" Robin trailed off, obeying as he saw her reach down to the floor and lift up her Tarot cards.

"This is what you want, am I right?" The old woman asked as the slayer sat down, slipping off his coat.

"I…"

"This is what you want? This is why you came here?"

"Yes." Robin nodded. "I am…"

"I have told you." The True Master began to shuffle the cards, her anger evident by the rough way in which she treated them. "I have told you and told you, boy. I am not some wild card you may play when you run out of options!"

"I know. I am sorry. But I—"

"You are extremely arrogant to think that you may turn up on my doorstep and be given an answer. I told you, Richard; I told you when you left that you were to be on your own. I told you that you could not keep coming back here."

"Please," Robin said softly. "I am sorry. I am sorry to ask for this. But I… I cannot stop this creature. I do not know which way to turn. I need…"

"You need this." The True Master fanned out the cards scathingly, then pushed them back together and handed them to him. "Cut them, focus on the question which you would like to be answered here for you today…"

He obeyed, flinching when she snatched them back.

"This is cheating, Richard."

"But it is not a game." Robin looked at her tiredly. "This is not a game. This is a matter of life and death."

"Hm." She turned the cards over and began to sift through them with her eyes closed, drawing out five and laying them face down on the table, in a loose horseshoe pattern – this was always the spread she seemed to use when dealing with him. "I will not do this for you again, do you understand?"

"But I—"

"Do you understand?"

Robin nodded.

"Yes," he said softly, looking down at his lap. "I understand."

"Good." She opened her eyes again, laying the spare cards aside. "And I knew that this was why you had come. I do not know what you expect to see, but I knew that this was why you had come."

"I need… I need answers." The slayer clenched his fists. "I need to stop the Raven Murderer, but I can't… I need help. I need your help."

"You shall have everything you need." She looked up at him briefly. "You shall have your answers. I cannot, however, promise that you will like them…"

Robin smiled sourly.

"I do not expect to."

"Good, then we shall have no disappointment." She ran a hand over the cards each in turn. "You are aware of the nature of this spread?"

"The Horseshoe Spread. This is the one which you—"

"Tend to save for you, yes." She looked at him intently. "There is no denying you are a difficult one…"

She pointed to the card in the first position.

"Here we have the Present Position, which shows us the nature of the dilemma in which you find yourself."

Robin nodded, but she did not look at him.

"In the second place we have your Present Desires, which gives us insight into what you wish for deep inside at this moment. The third position, we have The Unexpected, which should tell us something about the solution of your problem, and it is only natural that it will come as unexpected to you. You are following this?"

"Yes, yes." Robin nodded vigorously. "Of course."

"Good." Her hand came to the fourth card. "Here we have The Outcome of this situation. It can provide no definite answers, but may help to steer you in the right direction."

Robin nodded again, biting his lip.

"Lastly, we have The Immediate Future, which may provide you with an incentive about where you must turn next." She looked up at him finally. "This satisfies you, this spread? You are confident that these categories address your question?"

Robin nodded a third time.

"Yes."

"Excellent. Then we may proceed." The True Master slowly, one by one, turned over each of the cards; then sat back for a moment or two, rocking in her chair, staring intently at them.

They did, of course, make no sense to the slayer.

"Hmm…" She was frowning deeply, her face creasing up like the brown paper packaging on medicinal items. "This is a fairly solid spread…"

Robin was slightly hopeful.

"It is… good?" He dared to ask.

"Not altogether," she replied heartlessly. "But it is clear. Very clear."

She gestured to the first card.

"In the Present Position, we have a Major Arcana card; The Moon."

"And what does—?"

"Silence!" The True Master snapped. "I will tell you all you desire, if only you will allow me to speak."

Robin dipped his head in apology, gazing intently at the table's surface.

"The Moon represents confusion, vulnerability and illusion," she went on ominously. "When this cards appears in a spread, it implies that the Questioner is feeling hopelessness, even despair, at a situation of which they cannot make sense. This applies to you?"

Robin nodded meekly.

"Yes, this Raven Murder business, I cannot even—"

"Illusion, slayer. Illusion." She gazed intently at him. "It represents deception. You are being deceived."

Robin blinked and looked at the spread; something he had assumed himself, but now the cards…?

Raven

"At the second position, that of your Present Desires, we have a Minor Arcana card." The old woman pushed it towards him. "This is, on the contrary, a rather cheerful representation – the Nine of Cups. It is often known as the "Wish Card"."

Robin picked it up, gazing at it; at the nine golden goblets, overflowing with abundant wine to represent love and joy.

It seemed odd for it to have been drawn in his spread.

"Why…?"

She took the card back from him.

"This… represents love, dreams, happiness, prosperity, sexual desire and friendship." She put it back in its place rather roughly. "It most often appears in a spread when a new friendship or, indeed, sexual relationship is established. Sometimes it even represents marriage."

"I… ah… I…" Robin looked up at her briefly, then quickly looked away again, flushing pink.

It cut no ice with her.

"I think, being an unattached young gentleman, you want to be rather less careless, Richard Grayson," was all she said on the matter, her voice hard.

Her hand moved on to the third card.

"Here, at the third position, that of The Unexpected, we have drawn yet another Major Arcana card." She looked up at him. "You must understand, I find this particular reading intriguing. The ratios of Major Arcana cards to Minor Arcana cards is… unnatural, at best."

"How so?"

"A deck of Tarot cards is consisted of 78 cards; 22 Major Arcana and 56 Minor Arcana. The Major Arcana is consisted of 22 archetypal figures – The Fool, The Emperor, The Hermit, to name but a few examples. The Minor Arcana is comprised of four suites, rather like playing cards, consisting of fourteen cards each; numbered Ace to Ten, with four "court" cards, the King, Queen, Knight and Page. These four suites are the Cups, Wands, Swords and Pentacles. And…"

The True Master studied her pupil thoughtfully.

"…By regular ratio, Major Arcana cards are less common that those of the Minor Arcana, for obvious mathematical reasons. In a spread such as this…" She indicated the Horseshoe Spread on the tabletop. "…It is not uncommon to encounter no cards of the Major Arcana at all, but to be presented with two…"

Still her gaze did not shift from him, and he began to grow uncomfortable.

"Yes, you are a difficult one, aren't you?…" She murmured. "But to return to the matter at hand…" Her fingers found the third card once more. "At the position of The Unexpected, we have here The High Priestess. She represents intuition, which you must be guided by if you are to succeed. You must not be blinded by deception, and have the wisdom to follow your instincts. She is, by an ironic twist of fate, connected with The Moon, the other Major Arcana card which you have drawn; she shows that all will be revealed from behind the veil, but you must search. The scroll she carries in her hands symbolizes the hidden truths which you must seek."

Robin nodded.

So basically, Raven was deceiving him, and he was certain of it now.

He had no reason to hold back against her.

"At the fourth position," the True Master rattled on, "we have drawn the Seven of Wands to represent what must be done in The Outcome. This Minor Arcana card represents courage, determination and a challenge to fight for your beliefs and values. It may mean destruction, particularly in your case, given your profession. This victory will not be easy, but it is yours to possess, if only you care to pursue it."

"I do care to pursue it." Robin stood up, pulling on his coat.

Everything seemed much clearer to him now.

Raven was his target; and he was going to win. She would dance no more rings around him—

"Where do you think you are going?" The True Master asked sharply as the slayer started to walk away from the table.

"I apologize," Robin replied, stopping and turning to her. "I know it is rude of me to simply leave so hurriedly, but I must return to Gotham immedi—"

"We have not finished the reading."

"We… have not?"

"There is one card remaining. The Immediate Future."

"Well…" The slayer turned away again. "Such a thing is of little importance to me at this moment. I must pursue this beast and vanquish it. I will not be defeated or eluded by it again. I will win."

"You are very arrogant to believe you may dismiss fate in the face of the present," the True Master warned him as he reached for the door handle. "Very arrogant indeed, especially when this final card… does not bode entirely well."

Robin paused. Looked over his shoulder at her, at which she held it up for him to see.

A bleeding heart against a black stormy backdrop, pierced by three swords.

"The Three of Swords," the True Master went on in a hushed voice. "Disappointment. Pain."

And the final word broke his heart;

"Sickness."


I know, what a mix it is all becoming…

Raven. Langstrom. The True Master.

O.o

As for the True Master… The first thing to note is that I don't like her. At all. You could maybe tell by the narrative style – I thought she was a man nearly all the way through that episode, to start with. It wasn't until Robin actually mentioned it while muttering to himself about something or other that I realized she… was, well, a she.

Secondly, I do actually know that her real name is Chu Hui (according to the TitansGo! transcript for The Quest, anyway – there is no actual spoken evidence of it), but I called her the True Master all the way through to make her seem more mysterious and powerful and also because (back to point one) I don't like her.

The third thing to note about her is that originally I wasn't going to use her as Robin's "fortune-telling helper"; I was going to use Mother Mae-Eye. But it developed that this helper was also Robin's teacher and so Mother Mae-Eye obviously wasn't the one for the job; enter the True Master (begrudgingly).

Fourth – I doubt she reads Tarot. Frankly, I don't care. I'm just glad she was only in one episode. I couldn't really tell you why I don't like her – she just annoys me.

The Tarot stuff… all true. I bought a book to do some research on it – The Tarot Directory – and it explained all the cards, their meanings, the Major and Minor Arcanas, the different spreads… I obviously decided which cards I wanted to appear in that spread to make it fit the story, but those are all real cards and their meanings and stuff. I don't think I'm going to take it up, though… O.o

And now, to thank you all (I'm sorry, my ANs are SO long today…);

Rochelleteentitan (glad you liked it! And no, this fic doesn't exactly scream "happy ever after", does it?); Poison's Ivy (again with the bunnies! Aw, it is cute, though… The Telltale Heart is a good one; The Pit and the Pendulum is good too, you should check that one out. And no, I wasn't calling you a psycho… Actually, as far as "cyborg" being a real word goes, Microsoft Word doesn't recognize it as such. I had to add it to my dictionary. And yeah, eh heh, as before… sorry, I confused myself. Raven wasn't in the last chapter. I don't know why I said she was. As for RobinxStarfire… deal with it. I know you like Raven and I know you like RobinxRaven but it's just not happening here… Yes, I figured out that Raven was your favourite character… She is in this story, will you please just be patient? And now she has a much bigger role, so you can't complain. As for backwards spellings on both this and Red Rum… The latter is from The ShiningNevarmore is just close to the original word ("nevermore") and only required the changing of one letter. It is still pronounced the same way, in effect…); Torral11 (really glad you're enjoying it. You might be on the right track somewhere there… But wait wait wait! Beast Boy and Raven? They aren't going to be together at all. They haven't actually met in person, and Beats Boy is in mourning for Terra. No BBxRaven here, I'm afraid…); Me (what do I want to know about you? Your pen-name, to start with! And yeah, Red Rum is a RobinxStarfire story. It doesn't dominate the story, though. Moreover it's about the Titans getting it in the neck…); Li-kun05 (glad you're liking it too! And it's nice that you pointed out a specific part that you liked, too. Even if it was just the part about Robin making jigsaws from his food… Are you pro-RobinxStarfire or pro-RobinxRaven?); Quinn and His Quill (as scathing as ever. O.o Robin's a slut, he didn't invent grappling hooks, social psychology didn't come along until after… It's just a fan-fic, dude! And besides, how am I meant to know about Social Psychology? I didn't go to any of my lessons…); Saphires Rage (is the above a big enough role for Raven for you?… :P); and Crazy Insomniac (um, well… indulging in festivities… heh, nicely put… Sooooooooooooo… does the above fare well with you and your theories?).

So, yeah… super long scary author notes to round off 2006.

I thought I'd round off the old year with Nevarmore; and begin the new one with Remember the Titans. You can catch that on 1st January 2007; or past that, depending on the email alerts…

Sigh, where has the year gone?

Check out the video, PLEEEEEAAAASSSEEEE!

Happy New Year! See you again in '07!

RobinRocks xXx