Shadowchasers: Conspiracy

by 0ccam's Razor

A fanfic of the Shadowchasers by Cyber Commander. Odd things are happening, and Shadowchasers all over the world are encountering criminals with strange and peculiar goals. Is a conspiracy afoot, or is some deeper plot in the works?

23. People are Strange

Hey everyone! I'm not dead!

It's been a long month. My computer was attacked by a VERY nasty Trojan virus; Cryptic something or other. (The FBI knows who created it, some guy in the Ukraine, but haven't caught him yet.) I had to reconfigure my whole hard drive, and as a result, lost all my files.

Now, I'm still in the process of downloading and copying my old stuff, and thank goodness I saved the hard copies of a lot of notes. But as a result, this already-long chapter took much longer.

Anyway, I'd like to thank Metal Overlord 2.0 and 7th Librarian for helping make this chapter possible, and you'll see why very soon.

So, whether dinner is later for you today or you're currently recovering from the tryptophan in the turkey, enjoy the latest installment, and happy Thanksgiving to you and yours.

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On your world, I've seen so many types of governments, many of which I've seen elsewhere. It came as no surprise to me that the Roman Empire collapsed, as I had seen even larger empires with the same political structures and philosophies on other worlds turn out as failures. I also couldn't help but wonder why the American Revolution took so long to happen, because again, I had seen events similar to what led up to it repeated many times on countless worlds.

The United States is a system that is somewhat rare, and while conspiracy theories about its leaders abound, few of its modern citizens know just how common such things are.

If the candidate you voted for currently holds the White House, you may have heard stories from a vocal minority saying the election was "stolen" or "rigged". Now quick, how many U.S. Presidents were accused of such political fraud?

Answer: All of them. (Except any who did not gain the position via election, like George Washington and those who were Vice President, and became President upon his predecessor's death.)

Some people think that it's "new" for a fundamentalist group to accuse the President of being the "antichrist". In truth, every modern President has been accused of being that (if not the Devil himself). Ronald Reagan famously so due to connections to "666" (the number of letters in each of his names and the numerical identifier to his ranch in California).

And you can trace presidential conspiracy theories back to the beginning of the nation. Thomas Jefferson was an illegitimate son, he'd admit it, but his enemies claimed he was the bastard son of George Washington. (Washington was only ten years older than Jefferson.)

Lincoln was rumored to be bisexual or even closet gay. (He might have shared a bed with another man once, but that wasn't considered improper for the time.) FDR was rumored to not only have known about the attack on Pearl Harbor ahead of time, but to have let it happen, and to have already received Japan's surrender after Hiroshima (possibly even before) but ordered the bombing of Nagasaki anyway to scare the Russians. (This was nonsense, because Roosevelt passed away before either bombing; Truman gave both orders.)

There was, of course, the one about JFK and Marilyn Monroe. (In truth, if anyone in the Kennedy family was sleeping with her, there's more of a case for Robert.)

And those are just popular Presidents. I guess it's inevitable that being the most powerful man in the government of a super-power (where Freedom of the Press is regarded as sacred) will create such stuff.

My own opinion on politics? I have none. Even among Liberal and Conservative beliefs, Balance must be maintained.

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Chapter Twenty-Two

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People Are Strange

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At another place, Emily and Ferdinand found themselves in the large hall they had started in, with the two xill guarding the door.

Only now the guard was doubled to four. Ferdinand quickly wrote something on the electronic guide they had and showed it to her.

"They're wising up," it said. "Hope that potion of yours works."

They cautiously approached the door. Ever so slowly. The four xill said nothing and made no sudden movements.

They did "look" at them briefly as they opened the door, but did nothing to prevent them. The two passed through unharmed.

Emily nodded. "Worked…" she whispered.

Then the door slammed shut behind them, with an audible click.

"Maybe not…" added Ferdinand.

They looked around. There was a corridor ahead of them, which turned into a fork about twenty feet down. Ferdinand looked at the map.

"We seem to be in a maze of some sort…" he muttered. "Let's see… 'The Unicorn, Gryphon, and Phoenix will guide you through. Find them, one at a time, and if you are wise, they will lead you to you to where their allies rest.' What the… Wait a minute…"

He pulled the book out of the satchel and looked back at the Dynasties of Light.

"Apparently, those were three clans that were associated with this Shantari Empire… There are references to weddings and alliances…"

"I thought we were looking for a vault," said Emily. "Not a tomb."

"Just follow old Ferd, and this'll be like a walk in the park," he replied. "I'm a mul, remember? We used to build places like this, I can certainly find my way through one."

They started to move quickly through it, Ferd leading Emily. They moved right at the first fork, then right again, then left. He paused at a T-junction before going straight, then went left again.

After five minutes of this, they stopped.

"HA!" he laughed. "Told ya."

They had reached an apparent dead end, with a marble wall in front of them, with a colorful bas relief of a unicorn carved into the marble.

"Now we just have to figure out…"

Then a blue orb of light appeared in mid-air. It hovered there for a minute as the two of them looked at it, and then, a piece of parchment appeared on the relief.

Emily walked up to the parchment, on which was written a short verse in what she perceived as elven. (Actually, it was Supernal, written in the special way as to appear in the language of the viewer.)

She read:

Completely round is fairly rare,

Bright and shiny when I'm there,

When I'm not, they say I'm new,

But I'm old – older than you.

"Oh, shit," said Ferd. "It's one of those mazes…"

"Oh, hush," she said. "You know who built this place. We were bound to come across something like this eventually, and I think I can solve it…"

"You think so?" he said with a gulp. "Yeah, I know who built it, and they played things like this for keeps!"

"You were so confident a few minutes ago," she said, looking at him through the corner of her eyes. "You said that this would be 'like a walk in the park',"

That's because I was lying, Emily… he thought.

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With a heavy clacking noise as she forced the slide into its proper place, Fayte completed her reassembly of Tempest. Even as she holstered the weapon, she passed a short glance at a clock to reveal that the process of disassembling, cleaning and reassembly had taken four minutes. Thirty seconds longer than last time. "I must be getting old..."

Weapon secured, the vampire began sliding the cartridges of her gemstone ammunition into their appropriate places on her belt and on the interior of her coat. Each held ten rounds and she had a total of ten of them, meaning a hundred shots that came in five different flavors.

Once that was completed, she carefully pulled her rapier from where it had been soaking in a shallow pan of holy water. Being careful not to let it drip on her, she dropped it into the sheath before affixing it to her side. Shortly after that, two braces of throwing knives were wrapped around her arms. She didn't quite understand how the mechanism for the knives worked, but if she flexed her wrists in the right way, they would drop into her waiting palms and then rotate to reload that position.

Lastly, she pulled a small necklace off the table. Dangling from it was a group of small vials, no larger than her thumb. Labels in neat, archaic writing determined the contents, but to any but her, all they were was vials of blood. Though as they caught the light and swirled, they almost seemed to glimmer...

The necklace was slid around her neck and tucked neatly into the collar of her clothing. Just in time, too, as her Duel Disk began to chirp softly. A press of a button later and Jalal's voice emanated from the device.

"Remember Fayte," said Jalal, "it's imperative that Drumer be apprehended before he can do whatever he's planning. I don't want to worry you, but… The pages of the journal did say something about Arnold wanting to 'get rid of' something."

Fayte nodded.

"We have no idea what," he continued. "Important part is, that place may not be anywhere near a populated area, but if Drumer knows something about it…"

"He will tell us what he knows." She confirmed coolly. "Even if I have to drink that wretch's blood, he will tell us one way or another."

Jalal's voice was just as cool. "Make sure that you find out. He's mad and a fool, but mad fools are often the most dangerous kind of enemy. Be careful."

"Always, sir." With that, the connection was dropped and the vampire's vision was swallowed by darkness.

When it cleared, she was found herself standing underneath the night sky. There were no street lights, no lights from any houses, no lights at all but the moonlight and starlight. In fact, if not for the odd chill in the air, this would be the perfect place for stargazing.

"Perfect night for a glass of blood wine, don't you think?"

Fayte didn't bother to turn around to address the voice behind her. "I am not here to share a friendly drink, Luther."

"Considering you are so cold to me, I think that 'friendly' would be a gross over-estimation of our mutual regard," the other vampire said with a hint of sarcasm.

While dark, vampires could see in the dark, and she saw the general overview of the place.

They stood upon a mist shrouded hill, atop which sat a small circle of ruined headstones at the base of a gnarled leafless tree, its branches curled over like grasping claws.

They looked down below and saw an old, abandoned farm, with a very old farmhouse and barn furthest from them, an old grain silo to the right, and what may have once been a windmill on the opposite side. The fields were fenced off, but no crops were planted.

As they walked in between the crumbling headstones, their epitaphs worn almost beyond recognition, they stopped short as a shift in the wind brought the sound of... music? The low note of a violin drifted around them, somber yet energetic, and as they listened Fayte's eyes lit up in recognition.

"I know that melody..." Clearing her throat Fayte closed her eyes and began to sing, not taking more than a few moment's to recognize at what point in the song the melody was.

'It gets so lonely...being evil,

'What I'd do to see a smile... even for a little while...'

Then out of the darkness a second voice joined in.

'And no one loves you when you're evil...'

The violin suddenly struck up a note as Fayte and the voice finished in unison.

'I'm lying through my teeth, your tears are all the company I need.'

The melody carried on to a crescendo and with almost impeccable timing, the mist around them parted revealing Voltaire Amore, perched cross legged atop the largest headstone, a gleaming black Stradivarius in his pale spidery hands.

"You know," he said, "when most people hear my name for the first time, they assume, and not without good reason, that I was named after the French Philosopher, when in reality, my parents simply had unorthodox taste in music."

"Your taste in music is hardly the only unorthodox thing about you Voltaire," Fayte said, helping him down. "How my wife ever put up with you as long as she did is beyond me."

"Oh you wound me Fayte!" he replied. "It was a privilege and a delight to be able to say I am the first Shadowchaser to have ever trained a succubus to successfully join our ranks. Speaking of, how is our dear little Moonbeam?"

"As annoyed as ever you continue to refer to her by that nickname," Fayte muttered darkly, as she rolled her eyes. "But if that's the worst thing she would have to deal with as of late, I dare say she could be worse. She does ask after you, as well as Tsubasa. He keeps trying to have me pass along more harebrained ideas for your deck."

"Ah, rest assured I'm quite satisfied with his latest suggestions," Voltaire chuckled, patting his deck case. "I was long due for an upgrade or two and his suggestions from our last visit have been a welcome addition to my bag of tricks."

Looking beyond Fayte Voltaire walked up to Luther and extended a hand. "And you must be Frederick Luther, I've heard quite a bit about you from my colleagues, always worth note when you cross paths with a vampire other than Fayte here."

Studying Voltaire in silence for a moment Luther arched an eyebrow as he gripped the other Shadowchaser's hand. "I have also heard much about you as well Mr. Amore. I must confess, I find it hard to believe you are the same man who crossed paths with a Grand General and lived to tell the tale."

Well I find it hard to believe a lot of things until I see them for myself," Voltaire said giving a smirk, "but I'm afraid I didn't bring my slides so you'll have to take my word for it this time."

Luther blinked at this. "...I honestly can't tell if your being serious or not. In any case what are you doing playing the violin in the middle of a graveyard? I can think of far quieter ways to pass the time that don't risk drawing as much attention."

Voltaire's expression turned more somber as he regarded the rather sad little collection of headstones. "Sadly, my efforts were for far less uplifting reasons. The dead of this land have known little rest for some time, I felt at the very least I could keep them company until you arrived and provide a moment's solace."

He motioned for them to follow, and then started to walk down the hill towards the farmyard.

"With that racket, you are more likely to wake the dead, Voltaire, than put them to sleep." Fayte commented. "And where exactly is 'here'?"

"About a one-hour drive north of Providence, Rhode Island," said Voltaire. "But as far as distances go, it's not something the state government likes to broadcast…

"This is a bad place, this farm… A lot of folks have died here… And a lot of them came back… Wrong…"

"You're telling me…" replied Luther. "That… smell… What do they grow here?"

Indeed, it was a rather foul smell. Imagine a refrigerator unplugged, and the food inside – containing food like milk, eggs, cheese, and vegetables like tomatoes – all going bad and not gotten rid of for a week. Then multiply the smell it would make by about ten and you might imagine the stench in the air.

"If they ever grew any sort of agriculture here, it was a long time ago," replied Voltaire. He bent down and picked up a handful of soil. "In fact, this topsoil may not ever be fertile again. Around the 1960's, the owner of this place was one of the most powerful necromancers around, and a member of the Sons of Kyuss. He actually managed to create an ulgurstadta, a Beast of Kyuss."

"A reminder, Voltaire, in case you have forgotten," interrupted Fayte. "I do not like having to ask after information that should be readily provided."

She and Luther knew who the Sons of Kyuss were, a cult that was loosely organized to the point that pretty much any necromancer who called himself a member was a member. And few vampires hadn't heard of the being they worshipped, someone who may have been the most powerful and most feared necromancer who had ever lived – but the word "ulgurstadta" and the term "Beast of Kyuss" were new to them.

Voltaire, however, was far too familiar. She emphasized her seriousness with the loud cocking of Tempest's hammer. "At all."

"Very true, dear lady," Voltaire said with only a slightly nervous chuckle, eyeing the handgun in the vampire's grasp. "Forewarned is forearmed, as they say. A Beast of Kyuss is an abomination of necromancy invented by Kyuss himself, and not like most undead. Most undead are formerly human things that are humanoid in shape. The ulgurstadta doesn't even come close.

"Supposedly, Kyuss created the first of these by melting down a horde of regular zombies into a vat of disgusting flesh paste, then using spells of incredible dark magic combined with opening a portal to some unknown evil dimension. What he got was a giant maggot-like beast the size of a bus with a stink of rot and decay that lingers for hours after the thing has passed. Here, where the thing was created, the smell never seems to have left.

"The creature's function was to be used in large-scale military units, alongside typical undead foot-soldiers, and it had a unique way to both to decimate the opposing army and bolster its creator's simultaneously. It would eat every living creature in sight, including any soldiers stupid enough to try fighting it, and not naming any names here, but certain Shadowkind races and human cultures would do just that. Anyway, the Beast swallowed them whole, and they died rather quickly due to… uhm, most people call the stuff in its stomach 'necromantic slime'. It was an acid that dissolved everything but bone.

"But less than fifteen minutes later, it would spit their bones up as animated skeletons, covered with the necromantic slime. The thing was like a living skeleton factory. It could even vomit up this crap to spit it at enemies, and it was almost as potent as black dragon acid."

The two vampires both had dark looks on their faces that only deepened as Voltaire's explanation continued. Their race may have been reduced to a mere fraction of its once wealth and power, but the pride remained even in the two Shadowchasers. Vampires proclaimed themselves master of undeath and the night and it was something even the cruelest of them took seriously.

But that…

"Horrendous," Luther spat the word, fangs bared in a small snarl. "That such an abomination ever even be put forth is beyond foul."

"The dead should remain so," Fayte agreed as she produced a small device from her pocket. A quick glance at it caused her brow to furrow elegantly. "The negative energy readings in this place are impressive, especially since it has been decades since the original incident... feh."

What followed a string of mild incensed Gascony French that left Voltaire tilting towards Luther, who replied by shaking his head.

"Regardless," she added, "this farm might have once been a bigger 'chill grill' than the Old Momentum Reactor in Neo Domino. This, uh, Beast of Kyuss…"

"It was destroyed, thank the maker," said Voltaire, "but be wary, because as you just said, this is a desecrated area, a place where practitioners of the dark arts can cast stronger spells with more ease."

"Well, Drumer is a necromancer," said Luther, as Fayte turned it in the other direction, "but I what does this have to do with Benedict Arnold?"

"I was getting to that," continued Voltaire. "The curator claims that this place was mentioned on those pages of the journal that Mr. Drumer stole, but he didn't know exactly why. Apparently, Arnold was here a few times, and he could trust whoever owned it originally."

Then they were stunned as a high-powered flashlight shone in their direction.

"And there's a very good reason for that," said Drumer's voice. As they got a good look at him, they heard low, guttural moans, and saw a few regular zombies next to him.

"Save it, Drumer!" shouted Luther. "You're under arrest, and this time it's gonna stick!"

"Right…" replied the false Earl. "I had to go dumpster-diving in a dumpster the size of Milwaukee to bust out of your pen, and the only way I'm going back this time is in a box!"

He cut the power to the flashlight, and the four corpses dragged themselves towards the three Shadowchasers.

"Here, play with these guys. They're just some friends I managed to dig up on the way here."

The zombies lumbered forwards...

And went flying backwards, Drumer gasping as Fayte's hand seized his face and lifted him easily off the ground. "But…!"

"We are not here to bandy words with a madman." Ruby eyes narrowed angrily even as Voltaire and Luther reduced the zombies to pieces with a few sturdy blows. "Prison or death, your stupidity will be removed from the world!"

Then she scowled as Drumer's visage flickered once, then twice before vanishing and leaving her holding nothing more than another corpse. "An illusion..."

With a noise of disgust and a flex of her hand, she crushed the zombie's decaying bones and tossed it aside.

"He's quick, I'll say that for him," Voltaire commented and pointed at a shadowed figure ducking into the farm's buildings. "He couldn't have had that much time to animate those corpses and get ready for us. But I do believe our dear host is over in the direction of that grain silo..."

"You folks don't know when to quit," said Drumer's voice, as they rushed in the direction he had run. "If the world was destroyed by nuclear war, there'd be nothing left but roaches and you meddlers.

"If you want to know the big secret behind this farm, it's really no secret. During the Revolution, it was owned by a young woman named Susie and her mother who claimed to be British loyalists who would feed and tend the wounds of the Hessians, but in truth, they didn't care one wit whose side someone was on, and would help anyone who could pay them, no questions asked. They needed to make a living after Susie's father died, and really didn't care where the money came from.

"If you were a wounded soldier who came here, they didn't ask questions. And they were also willing to do small favors for a price…

"Well, I once found out from another officer's logbook that Benedict Arnold went to Providence one day for 'business' that he never explained, and the journal at the museum? This farm was mentioned on the same date! A date he came here to get rid of something!"

They reached the grain silo and looked back and forth, even as the ranting continued.

"It all makes sense now, those orders he got from the upper ranks are here, I'd bet my life on it! He brought them here and paid them to hide them!"

They slowed down as they approached the silo.

"He's around here all right," said Luther. "Be careful, he's leading us into something…"

"Perish the thought!" laughed Drumer's voice. "Seriously, I had no idea this place was a hotbed for necromantic magic, but when I found out, it was a pleasant surprise…

Then they caught wind of a different foul stench, one that Fayte and Luther recognized too well. As the two vampires backed up, Fayte withdrew Tempest and Luther took two long knives from his coat.

"Bloodhulks?" asked Voltaire, putting his hand on the hilt of his own sword.

"I'd remember that smell if I lived another ten centuries," replied Fayte.

The silo started to shake and quiver.

"Actually, I only brought one this time," said Drumer's voice. "When I first got the formula for the bloodhulks, I eventually wanted to try something… out of the ordinary, but I lacked the skills to animate it. So I just put it in cold storage…"

There was a loud, hoarse roar, and the three Shadowchasers dodged the silo as it fell… No, as it was shoved over, broken apart from the inside out.

"I may have gone a little overboard," said Drumer, "but hey…"

The three of them looked up… It was only one bloodhulk, all right, but it was huge. It was nearly twenty feet tall, the bloated form common the regular ones making it almost as wide.

It looked at them with dead eyes, and started to walk towards them, the disgusting sloshing sound that the regular bloodhulks made much louder.

Fire blossomed across its torso as Fayte opened up with Tempest. The rounds barely slowed it, the flames simply dying out before they spread across the dead flesh.

The bloodhulk still took notice of them, however inconsequential they were. With a rumbling roar, it moved faster than something that size had a right to and a lanky arm caught Fayte hard enough to send her flying.

Luther was already moving all the inhuman speed he possessed, knives streaking with blood as he used them to climb the beast's leg like a rock climber. Against a living target, they would have severed muscle and nerves and rendered the leg next to useless.

Still, the huge zombie didn't seem to mind that either. It turned to him and kicked him with an almost casual motion that sent him crashing into ground like he'd been hit by a car.

Then it turned back to Fayte, and lifted its foot high… Fortunately, Voltaire pulled her out of the way just as it stomped down, causing the ground to shake.

"I would suggest regrouping, my friends," said Voltaire. "Biology of giant-kind isn't my specialty, but given the sloping forehead and hunched posture, I'd say this was once a hill giant. Formidable while alive, more so when dead, it seems."

"A bloodhulk requires four fresh corpses," said Luther. "He'd need to somehow have killed four hill giants!"

"Before constructing the body and putting it 'in cold storage', as he said," added Voltaire, with a nod. "And he'd need a rather large 'cold storage'. Which means Mr. Drumer has far more personal power than we thought… Or he's allied with someone who's even more dangerous."

As they reached the barn door, they turned around and saw that the giant bloodhulk had stopped and was in the process of ripping part of a fence free. "And now it has a club... meaning its smart enough to know that it can use a weapon... charming..."

White light briefly light up the night, Voltaire blinking in surprise while Luther staggered and winced a little. "A diamond round?"

Fayte's response to the question was to fire off a second straight into the zombie's face, Luther swearing in pain this time. If Fayte was pained by being exposed to the holy energies, the dark scowl on her face hid it well. "Voltaire. Get inside, deal with Drumer. We're put this creature to its eternal rest."

"Very well. I doubt it would tolerate being challenged to fisticuffs, anyway." The British Shadowchaser tipped an imaginary hat to his vampire comrades, vanishing after Drumer with a cheery, "Best of luck!"

Luther stepped up beside Fayte as the other vampire swapped cartridges for her weapon in the space of a second. "How nice of you to think of me after the fact."

"Hardly," she replied. "That thing seems to immune to purely magic-based attacks and I wouldn't waste money shooting diamonds at it."

This time, blue magical light washed over the creature and rapidly morphed into ice. But it promptly shattered as the bloodhulk's body flexed and the ground began to rumble as the creature picked up some speed, club swinging dangerously.

"We will have to do this the hard way."

Without looking, she holstered her sidearm and drew her rapier while Luther readied another set of knives. The male Shadowchaser tensed slightly as they watched the bloodhulk approach.

"Try not to die, Mrs. Nyte," warned Luther.

"A foolish request...I am already dead." With that caustic remark, they both charged.

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If anything, the old farmhouse was in even worse shape than the barn was. Not only did the place seem ready to collapse at any minute, but a strange, unnatural chill filled the whole structure. It seemed that whatever experiment was involved in creating the ulgurstadta had blighted the area with this place as the central point.

Drumer had been gracious enough to set up quite a few battery-powered lanterns around the house, so Voltaire was able to dim his own flashlight as he walked through them.

He looked around. Some of the things he remembered from last time were still on the walls. Old newspaper clippings of famous people from the 60's and before that, including Doris Day, Paul Newman, and Clarke Gable. An old campaign poster with the words "Vote for Willkie" was on one wall. (He couldn't help but chuckle every time he saw one of those.)

Still, he wasn't interested in reminiscing now.

"I know you're here, Mr. Drumer," he called out. "Show…"

Before he could finish that, the floor gave way, and he fell into a basement.

"Ugh," he groaned, rubbing his head.

But as he stood up, looking around in the brightest lit room yet, and seeing that this basement was one that had been previously sealed off, there was something that made even him shiver a little.

It had brick walls, a door leading upstairs which had been bricked over before recently being knocked down, and a few furnishings, including a broken desk, table, and a potbelly stove… In one corner of the room…

Even Voltaire was a little nervous when he saw the… thing in the corner. It was a black obelisk, standing about twenty-feet high, just reaching the ceiling. Carved on the obsidian were whirls and spirals shaped into tendril-like symbols, carefully painted green, which the light falling on them caused the illusion of writhing and slithering.

"Oh, that is ominous, that is textbook ominous with a capitol O," Voltaire murmured as he approached the pulsing monolith. "So, hidden underground chamber, big, black, ominous spire... thing. And LOTS of raw necromantic energy, just about sounds right but better take a closer look..."

Taking a device from his coat – the same calculator-like device that Fayte had been using before – Voltaire tapped a few buttons and held it out towards the spire, only to yelp as it gave a sputter and burst into sparks, sucking on his burnt fingers.

"Readings are right off the charts!" he shouted. "Wait, hang on." Pulling his notebook from the same place in his coat, he began to scribble. "Note to self... get... bigger... charts..."

From behind Voltaire came the sound of someone chuckling. "You know I was a little annoyed at first that you found this room so easily, but all that's missing from this little routine is a pratfall and a few custard pies. Do any Shadowchasers take themselves seriously in this business or is it just the non-humans?"

"Oh, I always find it best to act serious in measured amounts," Voltaire said turning to face Drumer as he walked into view. "Too much of it can be rubbish for your sense of humor and that's almost as vital for this job as any other piece of equipment.

"So just what is this thing, if you insist on a serious inquiry?"

"Nasty, isn't it?" answered Drumer. "This sealed up basement was first used by Susie and her mother to hide anything they wanted to hide. Before the Revolution, they used it to hide illegally smuggled Dutch tea, which some colonists were drinking to protest the monopoly that the British had given the East Indian Tea Company. Later, they used it to hide munitions."

"So they had no loyalties at all, I suppose?" asked Voltaire.

"Maybe they were mercenaries in regards to who they helped," replied Drumer, "but they were saints compared to the folks who ended up owning the farm later. It passed to unscrupulous people who used this room to hide other smuggled goods. It was even used to sell liquor during the Prohibition.

"And the Sons of Kyuss used it to hide this."

"It's an amplifier, isn't it?" asked Voltaire. "The ulgurstadta alone wasn't what blighted the land on this farm…"

Drumer nodded. "I have no idea how it works, but my, ah, patron might, and once I get what I need…"

"Mr. Drumer, I implore you," shouted Voltaire, "stop this at once! This thing is already starting to erode your sanity! Not that you were exactly a perfect picture of mental health to begin with… If you don't stop this Sisyphean endeavor of yours, you'll end up just like the cultists who built it.

"Very few people have seen me angry before, Mr. Drumer, but I'd hate for you to find out why that is."

Sadly, Drumer's response was pretty much what Voltaire expected. He lifted his right hand and blurted out a hasty incantation, which Voltaire guessed was likely either Enervation or Wave of Exhaustion…

But what happened next… That was not expected. The beam of darkness that sprang from his fingers never even got close to hitting Voltaire, instead, it made a 90 degree turn in mid-air, and hit the obelisk.

The thing hummed and its "tendrils" seemed to writhe more as a shudder that they both could feel down to their souls came from the stone…

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As Emily studied the riddle, Ferd opened that book again and started reading about the emperors of the Shantari Empire again, hoping the descriptions had a clue of some sort.

Where was I? he thought. Ah, here… Terrance the Builder…

He started reading again:

Ambar II the Merry was crowned in YSD 223. He wed black haired Morgana of house Phoenix in 188 and they had three children. He was the first Emperor to die on the field of battle. His death marks the end of the age called the Years of Healing.

Ronan III the Patientwas crowned in YSD 260. He was the grandchild of Ambar II, his father, the Prince Aymeric, having died in battle the day before his father Brian. He wed Alice of house Unicorn in YSD 238. They had two children, Pentar was the eldest.

Pentar the Terrible was crowned was crowned in YSD 261 and had wed Victoria of Unicorn in YSD 239 at the age of 11. They had no children. Victoria was executed for adultery and Pentar wed Belinda of House Greyhound the year before he died in battle, before she could bare him a child.

"Man, started to get kind of grim there…" he muttered. Then he read the last entry.

Lea the Peacemaker daughter of Seamus and Elena, was crowned in YSD 264, niece to Pentar She had wed Sebastien of house Phoenix the year before. They had six children.

As he shook his head and closed the book, he was startled as Emily suddenly said, "Ferd, gimme a pen."

"Ergh," said Ferd. He searched his pockets, then found a ball point pen, and handed it to her.

"You absolutely sure you know it?" he asked.

Emily just ignored him, and scrawled "the moon" underneath the riddle.

She stood back, and the relief lifted, sliding into the ceiling, revealing another corridor beyond.

"You can breathe now," she said. "I think that was the right answer."

"Hey, not bad…" he said. "C'mon!"

Again, he led her down the passage, then down a staircase, then left at a fork in the staircase, then around a corner, and turned right. After another five minutes, they ran down another corridor, towards another dead end with another bas relief.

This one did indeed depict a gryphon, and it seemed like a different artist had made it, even though the workmanship was exquisite.

As Emily looked over it, the blue orb flew from behind them, and faded into the door, turning into a second parchment.

"It was following us?" asked Ferd, turning around.

"Quiet," said Emily. She read:

What runs smoother than any rhyme,

Loves to fall, but cannot climb?

"This is going to be a little harder…" she said.

Ferd looked at it. He smirked a little. Ironically, that wasn't a very smooth rhyme itself.

0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0

It was an interesting, but little realized fact that vampires do not need to breathe. Whatever it was that kept them in their state of false life ensured that they did not need oxygen to move around or speak- they simply did. If you saw a vampire breathing, it was nothing more than a reflex action left over by their mortal life.

It was also interesting, but brutally realized fact that even if one did not need air, having something attempting to squeeze it out of you was still extremely painful.

The two Shadowchasers had done well against the bloodhulk, initially. Fayte's rapier, thanks to the holy properties it had temporarily gained, slashed through the monster's flesh like it was paper. As she had danced around it and tore it open score of new wounds, Luther had used his knives to attack its joints in hopes of rendering it immobile and indeed, had succeeded in forcing the bloodhulk to drop its club.

That had been when the creature had moved faster than it had up to that point, spinning and whipping its lanky arms about ferociously. It had caught both vampires by surprise and wasted no time in snaring them both in its massive hands where it was now currently trying to pop their heads from their bodies.

Most of Luther's and Fayte's knives were buried the bloodhulk's fingers but it didn't even seem to notice.

Luther strained with every ounce of strength in his undead body, swearing painfully as he still felt the bloodhulk slowly crushing him. "Damned... creature...!"

Fayte was faring no better. Tempest was out of reach, same with the orb that would summon Alexandre and her sword was lost somewhere in the darkness. And she was wishing she had listened to her wife and brought the Watchguard with her.

The bloodhulk roared at them, the look in its glossy eyes indecipherable except for the fact it was somewhere between 'pissed at the entire world' and 'evil to the core'.

Rotten teeth and a blue-black tongue filled the visage of the two Shadowchasers and Luther swore again. "Really... it wants to... eat us!?"

"Stupid thing... we are not... prey... you are..." Fayte jerked her neck hard, freeing the necklace from her collar. Deftly seizing one of the vials of blood in her mouth, she tore it free before working it into her mouth and shattering it a hard bite.

Blood and glass slid down her throat painfully as she swallowed, but Fayte ignored it even as the magic began to surge through her body and a howling bloodlust pounded in her ears.

Then a pained roared filled Luther's and he found himself free of the zombie's grasp. Turning his fall into a tumble, he somersaulted away from the creature and came up on his feet. "Fayte..."

"Blood is the currency of life, the vehicle of the soul." Already, the French vampire's voice was becoming more inhuman, more ragged and violent. Her body as shuddering so sharply she had pitched to her knees even as a quartet of fox tails burst from her spine and lashing violently. More silver fur, already covered and reeking of blood, sprouted form her body and shredded her clothing apart. "To partake of blood is to partake of the soul."

Luther watched as Fayte's body doubled in size, leaving her standing nearly eight feet in height while her face elongated into a vulpine muzzle and fox ears literally burst free of her skull. She looked more like a fox trained to stand on its hind legs. Bands of blue-gray and black wove themselves into the fur and formed runes and symbols

"Your teammates..." he whispered.

"Were kind enough to let me borrow of their souls..." Fayte replied, her voice heady with passion, now a guttural growl. Blood soaked her body, mimicking the bloodlust she was radiating now. She caught his gaze with a single, silver slit eye. "Stay there or you will die... the kyubi recognizes naught by enemies..."

The bloodhulk was already moving again, one massive hand lunging for her.

Fayte's new tails flashed through the air and blood followed them, the bloodhulk's fingers suddenly dangling limp as they were nearly severed. Fayte was already sprinting on all fours up the monster's arm, her fangs tearing into the creature's eye as she leapt past.

It lumbered to face her, its wounds simply zipping back together and she gave a great howl in glorious triumph. "Yes! Fight me! Die to me! And then come back so I can kill you again!"

0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0

"Congratulations, 'Earl', you just recharged it," said Voltaire, bitterly. "I don't know how much, but you just made this cold spot on the Rhode Island map colder."

Drumer looked at the thing, and for the first time, even he looked a little frightened.

"If it becomes more empowered, I'm not sure if you could figure out how to use it," continued the Shadowchaser. "This thing may have a spiritual link to the Scion of Kyuss, or the Elder High Priests of Kyuss…"

His voice lowered to a whisper.

"Even Kyuss himself…"

"No, no, Kyuss is dead…" gasped Drumer.

Voltaire's face turned completely flat for a few seconds. "Really? You're a necromancer yet you assume the single most infamous necromancer and creator of undead abominations this side of Vecna's bony old undead posterior would regard death as anything more than a pit stop? While I applaud the optimism, it just goes to show how clearly in over your head you've become to all of this.

"All I know is, we have a very dangerous device of necromantic power here, one that could possibly release a zombie plague on Providence if we aren't careful.

"You want to clear Benedict Arnold's name? Even if you find that evidence you want, no-one will care anymore. The survivors will all look at you and wonder why he was the type of person that such a madman would risk destroying whole cities over.

"I'll plead with you one more time… Give up this mad quest before you become the type of person Kyuss was."

"I… I'm not the type of person Kyuss was…" muttered Drumer. "He didn't just commit murder, he one-upped it to genocide.

"All he ever did was for his own selfish reasons. He cared about no-one but himself, he would have double crossed and killed his own brother for the power he craved… And he did…"

He threw his left arm out, and his Duel Disk activated.

"He had no honor!

"Well I'm different than him, and if it ends here, I want to do it my way…"

"Very well, Mr. Drumer," said Voltaire. "If that's what it will take to knock some sense into you…"

He fit his special D-Gazer over the left lens of his glasses as the VR interface system formed around them.

"…I can live with that…"

The twin blades of his Duel Disk snapped together and the deck was shuffled.

I just hope Mrs. Nyte and Mr. Luther can take care of themselves, he thought.

(Voltaire: 8,000) - - - - - - - - - (Drumer: 8,000)

"For my first move," said Drumer, "your friend outside knows about this one."

He picked three cards, a very familiar Spell Card and two monsters, from his hand and held them forward.

"I use Polymerization, to fuse my Castle of Phantasms with Pumpking the King of Ghosts!"

The familiar Fusion Card appeared, as did the wicked undead gourd and the fiendish palace. A dark suction started to yank the two monsters towards the card, which then shattered like glass. Standing up straight was the tall, spindly, nasty-looking bunch of dead twigs tied together into a tall, humanoid form… Azenwrath was back. (2,700 ATK)

Still, Voltaire had seen worse.

"I'm done for now," said Drumer.

"I'll draw," said Voltaire, as he drew a card. He looked at it briefly. Second Wind. He put it aside, and then slipped a Continuous Spell into his Disk.

"I'll start by playing Call of the Mummy," he said, as the Spell lifted beside him. "And with its effect, I can Special Summon a cursed monolith on my own, the Soul-Absorbing Bone Tower in Defense Mode!"

The floor shook, and sharp, bone spires jutted out of the deadpan surface. Slowly, a tall column of bones and skulls vaguely obelisk-shaped with the eyes of the skulls glowing with a sinister light rose out of the ground. (1,500 DEF)

"Then I'll set a monster, and a facedown card," he said, as a flat card appeared beside and behind it. "And I end my turn…"

If he takes the bait, he thought, as his enemy drew, I have a chance to end this in a way that sheds the least amount of blood as necessary…

"Because the number of monster on your field outnumber mine," said Drumer, "and I don't control any monsters other than Zombies, I can bring Baron Pumpking to the field."

A tall, almost impossibly-thin, to the point of gaunt, phantom materialized, one wearing a grey tuxedo with a black carnation in the lapel. Its head was a frowning jack-o-lantern, and it carried a long cane with a skull for a knob. (1,600 ATK)

That's a pretty hefty condition for a Level 5 monster with only 1,600 points, thought Voltaire. But still…

"That was a Special Summoning," he remarked, "and because that's a Zombie, my Soul-Absorbing Bone Tower's effect activates!"

"Eh?" said Drumer. The eyes on the Tower pulsed with an ominous hum, and two cards flew off of Drumer's deck, vanishing into dark smoke.

"Dirty pool," he said, "but I can get rid of it… Right after I take care of your hidden monster. Azenwrath, Nightmare Slash!"

As the huge Zombie closed in on the set card, the monster revealed itself… And it was an odd-looking skeletal creature. It was like a child's skeleton, dressed in an expensive-looking outfit like the type worn by the children of nobility in Victorian England. It also had a blonde wig with curls.

Still, one slash from Azenwrath's claw tore it into tiny pixels. Voltaire shielded himself, but had a smirk on his face.

"Thank you," he said, over his arm. He lowered it as two cards slipped out of his deck. "When Wightprince goes to the Graveyard, I can send one Skull Servant and one Lady in Wight there to keep him company."

As he discarded the two cards, Baron Pumpking floated off the ground. An orb of blackness appeared on the tip of its cane.

"Well now I'm tearing your Tower down," called Drumer.

The orb turned into black lightning, and crashed down from the Zombie's cane, smashing the Bone Tower into its component skulls, that rolled and bounced before turning to dust.

"Thank you again," said Voltaire. His reversed card opened. "Now I can use my Broken Blocker Trap Card to summon two Bone Towers!"

The ground rumbled again, disgorging two of the tall, bone monoliths. (1,500 DEF x2)

"You realize, of course," he continued, "that a Bone Tower can't be attacked if another Zombie is on the field, and because Bone Tower itself is a Zombie…"

Then Drumer started to laugh.

"It's an attack lock…" he beamed. "Clever…"

"What…" asked Voltaire.

"A pity you had to choose your path, Mr. Amore," said Drumer, with a heavy sigh. "You seem to understand this type of creature for the same reason my mentor did. You could have been a natural at necromancy…"

"What do you mean?" asked Voltaire.

"Not just anyone can control the undead, you know," replied Drumer. "It takes a great deal of willpower, patience, mental fortitude…"

"As in the ability to glance at things men were not meant to see and not be driven mad?" asked Voltaire.

"THAT'S IT!" exclaimed Drumer. "You'd have been a natural."

Voltaire stood there in silence hearing this, searching Drumer's expression for something, though exactly what was hard to tell. His own seemed to soften as he sighed and adjusted his glasses. "

"You know Mr. Drumer," he began, "contrary to popular belief necromancy isn't as black and white as most people assume it to be.

"While it's true that its reputation has been largely solidified thanks to the likes of Kyuss, Frankenstein, and heaven knows what else, like any school of magic there's always the potential for a benign use as well as a malevolent. Do you know why nobody hears about the few necromancers who have gone to the lengths to procure a license to practice it legally?

Because the most important thing for any wizard worth his salt to have is a sense of humility, to understand that as wonderful as his accomplishments might be, that he remains an infinitesimally small cog in a grand machination. When practitioners of magic get it into their heads that they deserve this power and are in fact destined to surpass the gods, then we get the psychotic lunatics that everyone associates with the 'black arts'.

"But I have heard of, and on a few occasions even met, necromancers who understand that with just the right touch of subtlety, restraint, and respect for the forces they are manipulating, there can indeed come some good from the craft. From something as simple as autopsies and forensics, to calling up the spirit of a murder victim to help assist in catching the assailant, or something as ambitious as reanimating an extinct animal to see how it would behave naturally in a controlled environment for the sake of research."

"So you understand!" Drumer said his expression almost hungry for approval. "I'm not the villain here Voltaire Amore, I'm trying to use my talents to correct a terrible injustice, yet you insist on standing between me and the culmination of my life's work! So why do you interfere?"

"Because none of what you're doing shows restraint, subtlety, or respect, and you should damn well have figured that out long before you built that monstrosity outside!"

Drumer actually rocked back on his heels in shock, the sudden outburst from Voltaire had struck him harder than any amount of battle damage thus far.

"Now listen here Mr. Drumer," continued Voltaire, lowering his voice, "we could debate whether or not Benedict Arnold was merely a scapegoat, a traitor, or simply an opportunistic little weasel who might, just might have gotten a raw deal until the sun comes up and I would have happily done so as long as things had been kept to a purely intellectual level.

"But in pursuing you're 'life's work' you've bent the laws of man and nature far out of balance and created beings with no purpose other than to kill and destroy with no regard to who gets in your way. You are standing on a very slippery slope, and one wrong move could bring you beyond the point of any possible hope for redemption."

Voltaire lowered his voice a menacing edge creeping into it that, combined with the gleam of his blood red glasses, made the necromancer actually wish he was still dealing with the vampires outside.

"But believe me when I say if I knew without a shadow of a doubt that you willingly did business with the same man that put Fayte's wife, my former apprentice and the closest thing I've ever had to a daughter, through acts that would make even the denizens of the Abyss recoil in disgust, that this confrontation would have ended far, far sooner and with little hope of you ever finding redemption, or anything else, ever again."

As soon as it had come though, the moment seemed to pass and Voltaire took a deep breath to calm himself. "But as far as I can tell, you've been little more than a pawn in a far larger game, and that is why I'm giving you this chance, this one, last chance to come back from the edge before you cross a line you cannot come back from. You say you're nothing like Kyuss? Now you can prove it."

A sharp, wild howl followed by a roar echoed and Drumer flinched, casting a quick glance towards the farmhouse's exterior.

"You see?" Voltaire nodded in the same direction. "You are playing with forces you cannot control or grasp. If you keep doing this, Drumer, they will devour you whole."

Drumer said nothing at first. Then two face-down cards appeared behind his monsters. He stared at them, then took a deep breath and steadied himself. "I don't care...I will not back down...I set two cards face-down and end my turn."

"My move…" said Voltaire. I draw…"

He drew a card, and played one, causing another dark shadow to coalesce next to the two Towers, turning into a grim soldier in dull, rusted armor with a red scarf, holding a pitted sword. (1,400 ATK)

"By summoning Armageddon Knight," he said.

"You can discard a Dark monster from your deck," sighed Drumer. "Like that's a surprise…"

"Don't be so hasty, my friend…" said Voltaire. He took another card – a second Skull Servant – and sent it through the slot. "The true plan is just starting, because with Wightprince in my Graveyard, I can banish him along with two Skull Servants…"

A cloud of black smoke burst from the spot next to Armageddon Knight.

"…I bring King of the Skull Servants to the field!"

As the foul smoke parted, a much taller skeleton in a long, blue robe with long, spindly fingers stepped out of it.

"And because I just Special Summoned a Zombie…"

The eyes of the two Towers glowed again, and four cards from Drumer's deck disappeared.

"Yeah, well, that seems a self-defeating strategy," he snapped back. "King of the Skull Servants' Attack Score depends on the number of Skull Servants and additional Kings in your Graveyard. You just took two out, so the only monster there that counts…"

"Is Lady in Wight, I know…" replied Voltaire.

(1,000 ATK)

"But there are ways around everything…" He flipped a new Spell into his Duel Disk. "By using Burial from a Different Dimension, I can return those two Skull Servants and Wightprince to my Graveyard."

He took the three cards from his pocket and discarded them again.

"And by the way, Wightprince is also considered a Skull Servant while there."

(4,000 ATK)

"Destroy Azenwrath!" he commanded, as the King lifted its bony hands. "Dark Prominence!"

A volley of skulls surrounded by green, eldritch magic screamed towards the patchwork Zombie, the first few tearing huge gaps in its torso, the rest blowing it into a pile of smoldering twigs.

However, to Voltaire's shock, a creepy-looking Grim Reaper in a dark robe, hood, tattered cape, taloned hands and feet, with a huge scythe was now standing where the Fusion Monster was. (1,300 ATK)

"Who…" he started.

"Fortunately, I took just enough damage to activate Damage Gate," said Drumer, "and summon Demise Lord from my Graveyard. Thank you so much for sending it there.

"And because you also sent Azenwrath to my Graveyard, I can use his effect and banish the Zombie I used to Fusion Summon it, then Special Summon two monsters from my Graveyard.

"Of course, both have to have the same name, and their combined Levels can't be more than the banished monster…"

Two large vines broke surface, and two copies of Pumprincess the Princess of Ghosts sprouted from the ground. (1,000 DEF)

The two Bone Towers cackled, and four more cards vanished from his deck.

"No worries…" he said. "I doubt that will be a problem much longer…"

Voltaire gave Demise Lord a long, look. He really didn't like the look on it or its master's face…

Going to regret this, but… he thought.

"Armageddon Knight, destroy it!"

The ragged soldier made a swing, and the fiendish Reaper was cut in half at the waist, reducing the two pieces to scraps of black cloth.

"Not so tough…" said Voltaire. "I set a face-down and end my turn…"

"Which would normally mean that my two Pumprincess would be destroyed," replied Drumer, "but thanks to Baron Pumpking, they get to stay this time. And one other thing…"

The ground ripped open, and Demise Lord leapt out again. (3,000 ATK)

"Three-thousand?" gasped Voltaire.

"It only works once, but he can come back when destroyed by battle much stronger!" said Drumer, slyly. "Now it's my turn…"

(V: 8,000) - - - - - - - - - (D: 6,600)

He drew, and then chose the other card from his hand.

"First I'll summon my third Pumprincess," he said, as another of the young, female versions of Pumpking grew out of the ground. (900 ATK) "Now for those annoying Towers… I use the famous Dark Hole!"

The Spell Card activated and a swirling void of pure blackness opened above them. The two Soul-Absorbing Bone Towers shattered, followed by the three Pumprincess, then Baron Pumpking, and finally, King of the Skull Servants.

"Interesting…" said Voltaire, who had shielded his face again. "You know, most people who use that Spell Card don't summon before they…"

He stopped.

Not only was Demise Lord still there, but the regular Pumpking the King of Ghosts had appeared. (2,000 DEF)

"Because of the way I last summoned Demise," explained Drumer, "it can't be destroyed by Spell Cards. Plus, because I destroyed Baron Pumpking with a Spell Card, I got to summon a real Pumpking from my deck. In Defense Mode, naturally."

"So you did…" said Voltaire.

"Oh, it only gets worse," added Drumer. "Because I destroyed those three Pumprincess, I get to put them in my Spell Zone."

He fit the three cards in place, and the three small Zombies appeared behind the bigger one.

"We'll get into the why later. Demise Lord, attack Voltaire directly!"

Voltaire frowned as the Reaper lifted its scythe, and then barely moved as it swung down.

(V: 5,000) - - - - - - - - - (D: 6,600)

His frown turned sour…

"Eh… Yeah…" said Drumer. He shook his head, and set another card in his Spell Zone. "Feh," he said, waving his hand.

"I activate Second Wind…" said Voltaire. His Trap Card, opened, and King of the Skull Servants rose from the ground as a ghostly specter before solidifying again. (4,000 ATK)

"What…" said Drumer. "You could have used that to shield yourself…"

"No I couldn't have," replied Voltaire. "I can only use this card during the End Phase of a turn where I took damage if I have no monsters and you have at least two.

"Because that's the case, I can now summon a monster that's a Level no more than half that of any of your monsters, and then draw three cards, since that's half the Level of your strongest monster."

He lifted three cards off his deck.

"Very clever," said Drumer. "Then it is to be a battle between kings of the undead. So be it…"

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A tree exploded into neatly carved up scraps as tails harder than steel flashed, Fayte bursting through the pieces to sink her fangs into the bloodhulk's throat. Blood flew as she tore out a massive hunk flesh...then again and again and again with wild, gleeful abandon.

Luther watched as the bloodhulk topped backwards with a heavy crash, somehow managing to seize Fayte's tails and hurl her away. A moment later, it had surged back to its feet as its wound already healed shut.

"That's sixteen times already...! I can't stand it- this still isn't enough!" Fayte licked some blood off her muzzle, panting in excitement. Dirt flew underneath her paws as she sprinted for the undead hill giant again. "Come on come on come on come con come on, I want more! I NEED more! GIVE IT TO ME!"

Blood and flesh flew into the night sky once again, joined by roars and the charged laughter of a madwoman.

Luther had done as she had asked, not moving from his spot as he watched the battle dispassionately. He knew that many of other Shadowchasers in the organization would have been horrified to see what Fayte had become and what she was doing, how like a mad dog she had become.

But they did not- could not- understand what it meant to be a vampire. Theirs was a world were darkness, death and blood ruled everything. The modern world had romanticized them, prettied them, coated them in sexuality and perfection and declared the vampire the embodiment of the 'darker' aspects of human nature – all passion and instinct.

How soon humans forgot what those two words really meant.

Trees cracked apart as Fayte was hurled away into them, already rolling to her feet and seizing them in her tails so that she could drive into the giant's eyes in a single bound. The bloodhulk staggered, sightless but still able to smash the transformed vampire between its massive hands. A moment later, said hands exploded into blood as she cut them up with her tails. But they reformed in the next moment and smashed her to the ground.

Luther watched the fight, his mind racing. Despite the transformation, it wouldn't last and they'd be back to square one soon enough. Fayte had killed the bloodhulk nearly twenty times now and it was not staying down. It was a game of endurance they were going to lose.

But they had no choice but to play and soon, his turn would be up.

Even as Fayte killed the bloodhulk for the twenty-first and twenty-second time in quick succession, Luther was already reaching out into the wilderness to prepare. Just as Fayte could transform, he could command...

0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0

"I draw once…" said Voltaire, making a draw.

The card was one that was just as old as Dark Hole, the Quickplay Spell Rush Recklessly. Still, that wasn't exactly the best card now…

"Oh, one other thing," said Drumer, "during every Standby Phase, yours and mine, each Pumprincess in my Spell Zone gains a Pumpkin Counter, and each Counter reduces the Attack Scores of your monsters by 100 points."

The same creepy vines from his duel with Luther appeared and started to entwine around King of the Skull Servant's feet. (3,700 ATK)

"Well!" said Voltaire, perking up a little. "That's a horse of a different color! Which... is a phrase I have never used before and, now that I think about it, never should have used to begin with, but I digress… I use the Rush Recklessly Spell Card! And the monster I choose to use it on is… Demise Lord!"

"Wait…" said Drumer, as he looked at his monster. (3,700 ATK) "Why the hell would you… Oh shit…"

As he turned his head, King of the Skull Servants blasted its lethal skulls from its palms as Demise Lord leapt and spun its scythe like a deadly rotary blade. There was an explosion as both monsters were obliterated.

"I banish Wightprince from my Graveyard to summon King of the Skull Servants back to the field!" shouted Voltaire, as the King appeared again in another dark shadow. (3,000 ATK) –) (2,700 ATK) "Of course, since I banished that monster, it loses 1,000 points, but that's more than enough. Now, let's show him the old way to carve a pumpkin."

The attack began again, hitting Pumpking in the middle with an eruption of fire from the point of impact. Drumer covered his head as pumpkin pulp showered over him.

"Very funny…" he said, looking up.

"If we both survive until Thanksgiving, you're free to call me," said Voltaire, calmly.

"All you guys ever do is make jokes," said Drumer, with a scowl. "Why? Can't you be serious about anything?"

"Mr. Drumer, you have no idea how much the average person is laughing his head off at conspiracy theorists like you," replied Voltaire. "It's the same with so many of them, and I've seen dozens, hundreds over the years.

"The government is spying on us through our GPS systems, they say. Well then, if you're so afraid of that, unplug it, stupid!

"For over two-hundred years, historians have accepted Benedict Arnold's role in the Revolution as that of a man who turned against his army. Some considered him perhaps a fallen hero who got a raw deal, but still a betrayer. Never a one who was falsely accused of a crime he never denied being guilty of.

"And now, after so many centuries, you bring this theory that defies everything historians know? Occam's razor, Mr. Drumer. It just doesn't add up."

"I'll make it add up," cursed Drumer. The Quickplay Spell in front of him lifted up.

"I use Pumpking's Retribution! Because you destroyed a monster with the word 'Pumpking' in its name, I can place it in my Spell Zone."

Pumpking appeared again, looking smaller and a little more rigid this time.

"You're running out of places to use your Spell and Trap Cards," remarked Voltaire.

"That shouldn't be an issue, so long as I have one left," replied Drumer.

Voltaire slowly turned towards the obelisk, which was humming louder. He could feel it…

That bloodhulk crusher outside… he thought. Maybe it's some sort of instinct, but it's using the obelisk somehow, maybe to strengthen itself, maybe to heal itself…

That could mean Ms. Nyte and Mr. Luther are winning… Or they're making it angry… Or maybe both… But at least it probably means it hasn't gotten them yet…

0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0

Outside, two monsters were trying to eat other.

Fayte was having far better success.

The bloodhulk had finally learned to keep its grip on her to avoid getting hit over and over again and was trying to bite down on her barrel. But its rotten teeth couldn't get a solid grip on her blood-soaked fur and the fact her tails kept slicing its face into bloody chunks wasn't helping.

Fayte, for her part, was busy tearing and ripping chunks from its chest, literally digging her way into the mass of flesh

She felt herself slip from its mouth and sank her claws into its pectoral for a better grip. "Let's get to the meat of this fight, yes? I want to hear you scream!"

Bracing herself, all four tails lashed out around and drove into the hole she had made. The whole beast's body seized up as she pierced its heart...and with a happy laugh, ripped it free.

The bloodhulk screamed.

0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0

In the basement, both Drumer and Voltaire felt a sudden pain as a blast of negative energy launched from the peak of the cursed obelisk, and a roar that was half anger and half agony, both sounding like they were produced by the dark pits of Hell, echoed over the field. Even their monsters looked nervous.

When they looked up, the obelisk was badly cracked.

"What… happened?" asked Drumer.

Not sure, thought Voltaire, but I don't think that was one for our side…

"Feh! I despise riddles!" scoffed Drumer. "I think it's my turn… I draw…"

He drew a card, and smiled.

"First," he said, "each of my Pumprincess gains another Counter, so your King loses 300 more points…"

The vines around King of the Skull Servants got longer and tighter. (2,400 ATK)

"You know, the irony here is thick… Thanks to your Bone Towers, I have more than enough monsters in my Graveyard to use The Beginning of the End…"

Five monster cards quickly fed out of the slot, and he placed them inside his jacket. Then he drew three times.

Then he smiled even wider.

"Good monster, Mr. Drumer?" asked Voltaire.

"Oh yeah," replied Drumer, "but before I summon this one…"

He flipped a Spell Card in his hand around, one that Voltaire recognized only too well. Normally he liked seeing Book of Life… But not when an opponent used it.

Drumer threw the card into his Duel Disk, and a spellbook with a shining emerald cover and a sun symbol appeared. Queen Pumpking – the attractive woman in witch's outfit with the very daring plunging neckline and staff with small pumpkins dangling from the tip – appeared with the Pumprincess monsters. (2,200 ATK)

A Skull Servant fell out of Voltaire's Disk at the same time, dropping the King to an Attack Score of only 1,400.

"Now to summon Pumpking's Knight," he continued. "And I can Special Summon it by sacrificing three monsters, which in this case, include the ones in my Spell Zone!"

Pumpking and two of the Pumprincess turned into black smoke as the pumpkin-headed wicker man appeared, although this time, its formerly blazing fires were little more than smoldering embers, its wooden frame blackened with ash. (2,700 ATK)

Still, it lifted its staff, and the jack-o-lanterns dangling from it hummed with an evil spell.

"Sure, that takes some of the burden off your monsters…"

(King of the Skull Servants: 1,800 ATK)

"But via this monster's effect, you send three cards from your deck to your Graveyard, but I can see them first, and if any of them are monsters, I can use the effect to increase or lower the Attack Score of any monster on the field by that of the discarded monster's Attack Score."

"O-kay…" said Voltaire.

Most of my monsters start out with pretty low Scores anyway, he thought, as he picked up the first card.

"Eh… Just a normal Skull Servant," he said, turning it forward. "It only has 300 Attack Points, but by discarding it, my King recovers those points he lost."

He shoved the card into his Graveyard pile, and King of the Skull Servants opened its mandible and cackled. (2,800 ATK)

"And my Queen gains 300 points," said Drumer. "Not much, but every little bit helps."

(2,500 ATK)

"All right, let's see the second…" he continued, making a motioning gesture with his hand.

Voltaire drew again, then turned the card forward. It wasn't a monster; it was the Spell Card, My Body as a Shield.

"Okay, third time's the charm…"

Voltaire drew a third time, then his face fell. It was indeed a monster now – Mezuki.

"Not bad," said Drumer, as Voltaire discarded it. "So Pumpking's Knight gains 1,700 Attack Points."

(4,400 ATK)

Maybe Voltaire should have been paying more attention to his opponent, but it was hard to. The obelisk was starting to hum louder with a terrible drone, like a swarm of wasps combined with the maddening winds of Pandemonium, just not as intense… yet.

Then the ghostly, howling flames from Pumpking's Knight's staff swarmed at King of the Skull Servants, blowing it into a pile of charred and burned bones that quickly dissolved.

"Well?" asked Drumer.

"Well what?" asked Voltaire. He stood facing his foe, crossing his arms.

"Eh," said Drumer. "If you aren't going to use its effect… Attack him directly!"

Queen Pumpking pointed her staff, and a black disk with a pentagram inside it was sent spinning at Voltaire, hitting him in the stomach. He collapsed on one knee.

(V: 900) - - - - - - - - - (D: 6,600)

As he held his head, he felt his Disk vibrating. He quickly muted the volume and hit the "Audial Only" command, and spoke into it.

"Mr. Luther?" he said. "What's going on up there?"

0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0

"Mrs. Nyte has made it angry, Voltaire." Luther watched as the bloodhulk slammed its fists into the ground in a rage, tearing out large chunks. "Very angry. Seems to be a habit of the French to enrage foes bigger than they are."

Fayte was in no position to respond to the dig, as she was currently sprawled out cold behind Luther. Her transformation had finally worn off (indeed, it had lasted longer than she had expected) and only quick reflexes on Luther's part had kept her from being smashed.

"Well, can she make it angrier? Whatever she did, it seems to be helping on my end."

"She is a bit indisposed, but I have got it covered," he said. With a nod. "This thing has a regeneration factor that would make a fell troll jealous, so making it angry isn't a problem…"

Luther casually lifted Tempest and fired a pair of sapphire rounds. Ice exploded beneath the bloodhulk's feet and it lost its balance, crashing to the ground. A moment later, bats of all kinds swarmed out of the woods and flooded over it, biting and harassing and forcing it to focus on swatting them away than getting back to its feet.

"But I don't think I can't rip out its heart like she did," he added.

"Rip out its heart..." Voltaire couldn't keep the surprise out of his voice. "What are you two doing?"

"Our job," Luther replied as he commanded his bats to scatter as the bloodhulk rose into a kneeling position... and promptly fired a diamond round into the still closing whole in the monster's chest.

Pain washed over him, but he grit his teeth and prepared to fire another round. The first had bored a hole out of the beast's back – one large enough that its arm was in danger of tearing loose.

"Keep dueling, Voltaire," he urged. The second round blew the massive arm free of the few dangling threads of flesh left. But even before it had hit the ground, nerves and tendons shot out of both the body and arm, linking together and hauling the limb back into place as the bloodhulk regenerated.

Once again, Luther fired sapphire rounds to remove the zombie's footing and let his bats swarm over the zombie. "And quickly, because I don't have many bullets of the required type left."

"I should have this wrapped up momentarily, if what I think is happening is actually happening."

0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0

Voltaire looked at the obelisk again, then added, "…probably…"

"I'd love to be in on this conversation," said Drumer, "but I don't have all night, so… I use Queen Pumpking's effect to destroy Call of the Mummy!"

A similar, but smaller orb of black magic swerved at the Continuous Spell, blowing it into little shards.

Finally, Drumer set a card in his Disk, and a face-down card appeared.

"And I guess that's that for now…" he said. "So now what?"

Voltaire stood up, then drew, and then looked at the card briefly.

"I banish Mezuki from my Graveyard to summon the King again," he said.

He pocketed the card, and King of the Skull Servants appeared kneeling in Defense Mode. (0 DEF) Then he played another card, and a reversed card appeared behind it.

Then he nodded to Drumer.

"Zero Defense Points?" asked Drumer, as he made a draw. "Pathetic, especially since Queen Pumpking has an effect that…"

"…she won't be using," interrupted Voltaire. His Quickplay Spell lifted, revealing a card called Draw Muscle. "Since my monster is in Defense Mode with a Defense Score less than 1,000, it can't be destroyed by battle this turn. In addition…"

He drew a card from his deck.

"…I get one draw…"

Drumer didn't say anything for a minute. He looked at the card he had drawn – the only card in his hand – and shrugged.

"In that case…" he finally said, "I pass this turn."

Voltaire drew, and then looked at Pumprincess again.

"That's right, four Counters now," said Drumer, nodding. "Your King can't…"

To his surprise, however, King of the Skull Servants stood up, into Attack Mode. (2,600 ATK)

"I'm sending Wightmare from my hand to the Graveyard," said Voltaire. "This returns that banished Skull Servant to it. And because Wightmare itself is also considered a Skull Servant while in the Graveyard…"

(4,600 ATK)

"You can't boost that guy's Attack Score forever," grumbled Drumer.

Voltaire shrugged. "Given that there are five different monsters that 'boost' its Score," he replied, "and you can have three of each in a deck, the limit to King's Attack Score is currently 14,000.

"But enough about that…"

The flaming skulls cascaded from King's palms, and Queen Pumpking shrieked before they hit her. The burnt remains of her hat and pieces of her gown fluttered to the floor.

(V: 900) - - - - - - - - - (D: 4,500)

"Too easy!" laughed Drumer. "I activate the Trap Card, Horror's Harvest!"

His face-down card lifted, and foul-smelling fumes rose from it. Two large, rancid rafflesia flowers sprouted to either side of Pumpking's Knight, and vines branched out of them.

"Because you destroyed a monster with the work 'Pumpking' in its name and I took at least 2,000 points of damage, I can to summon two of my banished Zombies," he laughed.

First Pumpking – obviously the one he had used to summon Azenwrath – sprouted out of the first flower (1,800 ATK) and then Azenwrath itself burst out of the second one. (2,700 ATK)

Voltaire took a long breath. He looked at the Horror's Harvest card.

A Continuous Trap? he thought. Hmm...

Then he played his three last remaining cards. They appeared behind his monster, reversed.

Hope this works…

"Go on…" he said.

"Meh, heh, heh," said Drumer, making a draw. "With another Counter on Pumprincess, your King gets even weaker.

(4,500 ATK)

"And now I can finally play this!"

He turned one of his two cards around.

"That's a Ritual Spell!" said Voltaire with a gulp.

"A powerful one called Candle Light," explained Drumer. First the card appeared, and then the room went dark, the eerie glow from the obelisk the only illumination. Then a Pumpking appeared in the center, as fiery lines started to be drawn around it.

"Normally, this ceremony requires eight Levels worth, but I can used Pumpking as the sole sacrifice if I have one, which I do…"

The King of Ghosts erupted into a bonfire, which turned into a fiery ghost that let out a bloodcurdling scream before vanishing…

When the light came back, a tall figure was standing there in a long, tattered robe, concealing its bowed face with arms that had bony, clawed hands.

Then it looked up and threw its arms open wide, revealing a pumpkin head with an evil, malformed face, a look of hate in its eyes. (0 ATK)

"Behold Pumpking the First Ghost," he continued. "As you can see, it starts with zero Attack Points, but not only does it gain the Attack Points of every monster with the word 'Pumpking' and 'Pumprincess' in my Spell Zone, but by Ritual Summoning it, I get to take two more from my Graveyard and put them there!"

One of his two regular Pumpking cards and Queen Pumpking slid out of his Graveyard. He grabbed them, and fit them into his Spell Zone. The First Ghost's eyes burned like a flickering candle had been lit inside its head. (4,900 ATK)

"Heh… This will be fun… Just a warning, it's indestructible. You try to destroy it – by battle, by a card effect, by anything – I can protect it by getting rid of one of the monsters in my Spell Zone. So then…"

The First Ghost flew towards King of the Skull Servants with a bone chilling howl. One of Voltaire's three set cards – a Continuous Trap Card called Spawn of Skull – lifted up, but it did nothing to prevent the demon from plowing into the King and blowing it to pieces.

"I banish one Skull Servant to revive my King!" shouted Voltaire. He held out his hand, and a Skull Servant's card appeared behind him, spiraling into nothingness. The King appeared again, kneeling in Defense Mode. (0 ATK)

(V: 400) - - - - - - - - - (D: 4,500)

"Then I'll attack it again!" replied Drumer.

Azenwrath's two claws slashed across the lich, tearing it in two, but again, Voltaire pocketed a Skull Servant, causing it to rise to the surface a second time. Then the howling, flaming ghosts from Pumpking's Knight were let loose, blowing it apart again.

"Again…" said Voltaire, as a third Skull Servant card behind him vanished and the King reappeared.

"I'll end my turn," he continued, "and that means I have to send one of the monsters in my Spell Zone to the Graveyard in order to keep the First Ghost."

Pumprincess was covered with a veil of shadow, and then consumed by it.

"But don't get too comfortable. If there are no Zombies in my Spell Zone, I can get rid of the Ritual Spell to give it a couple."

Voltaire was about to draw, when his Disk started to vibrate again. He cautiously tapped the listen button.

"Hello?" he said, softly.

"Mr. Amore," said Luther's voice, which seemed tired and out of breath. "I don't know what you're doing in there, but keep doing it…"

"Come again?" asked Voltaire.

0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0

Outside, Luther had finally run out of sapphire and diamond rounds as well as bats. So with Fayte slung over one shoulder, he was running from shadow to shadow to avoid the giant zombie, which was on fire now, as he had inadvertently ignited it in the hope a ruby round would contain enough explosive power to continue his little stalling trick.

It had not and now the bloodhulk gotten angrier in the last ten minutes, but had grown… no, swelled to half-again its size. Luther had clearly seen it. The thing was having some rather… sudden growth spurts.

Right now he was hiding behind a tree, and not only couldn't it see him, he was starting to wonder if it could see period now.

"Something is fueling this thing at a rather… rapid pace," he said.

0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0

"That's understandable," said Voltaire, glancing towards the obelisk. He looked at Drumer, and added "one minute…"

"I got nowhere to go," replied the necromancer.

"But why is that a good thing?" whispered Voltaire into the Disk.

"It's like someone is trying to shove a gallon of liquid into a container that only holds a quart," Luther answered promptly. "We've wounded it so badly that whatever is keeping it alive is overcompensating now, so it is only a matter of time."

There was a loud crash.

"Ah, time to move again."

As the line went dead, Voltaire drew a card and thought for a minute.

"So, Mr. Amore," said Drumer. "That is your name, I take it… Did you draw something that will let your King reach this theoretically possible fourteen thousand Attack Score?"

"It's not theoretical, Mr. Drumer, there are certainly ways to do it," replied Voltaire. "Magical Merchant, I guess, but the thing is, that's a little risky, because it leaves you with no 'plan-B' if the attack fails.

"Truth be told, I've never actually gotten its score that high… I admit it would be fun to do it, I guess…

"But business before pleasure. Because I activated Spawn of Skull that round, I can destroy it to summon all three of those Skull Servants I banished."

The Trap Card burst, and three ordinary Wights appeared next to their master. (300 x3) As for him, he stood up, standing in Attack Mode. (2,000 ATK)

Then, he played his new card, and a monster appeared that was definitely not a Zombie. It looked like a cute little robot with an orange metal trucker's cap, vest, gloves, and boots, with a scarf around its neck… One that was instantly recognizable. (1,300 ATK)

"Junk Synchron?" gasped Drumer. "What in the world are you going to do with that?"

The monster gave Drumer a frustrated look and pointed at the engine on its back with the wrench it held.

"It's a Tuner," replied Voltaire, "isn't it obvious? I'll Tune it and two of my Skull Servants…"

Junk Synchron grabbed the ripcord on its waist and gave it a yank, causing the engine on its back to sputter and whir to life. Then the three monsters flew upwards, into the Synchro rings…

(*3 + *1 + *1 = *5)

There was a flash overhead and one of the two signature monsters of Yusei Fudo descended. Junk Warrior spun around in mid-air before landing. (2,300 ATK)

"So you've got that Synchro Monster," replied Drumer. "This will actually make it even more enjoyable… It will be the most famous monster I've ever pulped!"

"Don't count on it," replied Voltaire. "Not that I mean any disrespect to Mr. Fudo, but this monster had potential that he never dreamed of!

"Let me explain. Before Junk Warrior was summoned, Junk Synchon and those two Skull Servants were sent to the Graveyard, which means King of the Skull Servants gained 2,000 Attack Points an instant before Junk Warrior appeared."

(4,000 ATK)

"Which means, Junk Warrior's effect now activates, and it gains the Attack Points of all Level 2 or lower monsters on the field. That means it gains 4,300 points!"

(6,600 ATK)

"HEY, hold on!" shouted Drumer.

"King of the Skull Servants, destroy Azenwrath!" ordered Voltaire

For what would likely be the final time, the flaming volley of skulls howled as they flew from the lich's hands, and the patchwork zombie went up in a cloud of smoky ash.

Then Junk Warrior's jetpack ignited, and it flew towards Pumpking's Knight, slamming the evil wicker man in the face and knocking it over. The flames died quickly and the remains disintegrated.

(V: 400) - - - - - - - - - (D: 1,000)

"I'm still standing, and so is the First Ghost," said Drumer, although he was obviously shaking a little.

Then one of Voltaire's Traps lifted up, revealing Call of the Haunted. Junk Synchron leapt from the ground, standing beside its larger counterpart as the second Trap lifted.

"I use Urgent Tuning!" exclaimed Voltaire.

This time, Junk Warrior followed Junk Synchron as they soared towards the ceiling. Again, the Synchro rings appeared…

(*3 + *5 = *8)

"I Synchro Summon… Junk Destroyer!"

There was a roar, and a much bigger mechanized Warrior leapt down in front of him. It had four arms, an armored torso, a golden, crown-shaped helmet, and wing-shaped blades on its back. (2,600 ATK)

"When this monster is summoned, I can destroy one card for every non-Tuner monster I just used for the Synchro Summon."

"In case you weren't listening a minute ago," said Drumer, "you can't destroy Pumpking the First Ghost that way. I'll just…"

"That's not its target," replied Voltaire. "He's going to destroy Horror's Harvest…"

A look came across Drumer's face that could only be described as stunned.

"That's right," replied Voltaire. "These D-Gazers are rather swell, they can let you take a close look at the cards in play and avoid stupid mistakes.

"That Trap Card has a pretty big condition… If it's destroyed…"

The card was smashed, as was both of the Monster Card's behind it.

"…every card in your Spell Zone is banished. Leaving your First Ghost helpless until you can use the Ritual Spell's effect."

(0 ATK)

"But you aren't going to get that chance…"

Junk Destroyer closed in on Pumpking the First Ghost, and there was a hellish howl as its blades sliced though the phantom…

(V: 400) - - - - - - - - - (D: 0)

Drumer collapsed on his back.

0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0

Outside, Luther had still been watching the giant bloodhulk.

Each good hit by Voltaire had pumped more energy into it, the obelisk apparently trying to compensate for Drumer weakening, but not knowing when to stop. When Azenwrath went down, it swelled to about twice its original size. When Pumpking's Knight fell, the thing let out an unholy howl that seemed a cross between rage and pain.

Finally, when Pumpking the First Ghost was defeated, it had taken too much to hold. Luther covered his head as night practically turned to day as the bloodhulk was incinerated like a roman candle with the stench of decay and burnt flesh.

His Duel Disk started to vibrate. He hit the respond key.

"Voltaire, everything's fine… Sort of," he said. "It was kind of… Interesting to watch… Well, in the same way disaster movies are, I guess…

"Let's just say I think you took care of it… Or something did…"

0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0

"Oh, how silly of me!" exclaimed Emily.

She quickly took the pen, and wrote the word "Water" on the parchment. She stepped back, and the relief lifted into the ceiling like the last one did.

"Come on, let's move quickly, said Ferdinand.

They started running again, with him leading, this time moving up a flight of stairs, over a landing, then down, then across a long hallway, and left at an intersection.

Finally, they arrived at what he hoped was their goal. This wasn't a relief, but an actual painting, one depicting a flaming phoenix taking flight.

Again, the blue orb appeared, turning into a parchment in the center.

Emily read:

What does man love more than life,

Hate more than death or mortal strife,

That which contented men desire,

The poor have, the rich require,

The miser spends, the spendthrift saves,

And all men carry to their graves?

"Emily not to put pressure on you, but…" said Ferd, "try to figure it out quickly…"

I have the strangest feeling that potion of yours may not have worked as well as we thought, he said to himself. He looked over his shoulder…

0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0

Voltaire and his two allies were taking a breather, watching Drumer, who was handcuffed and sitting down.

The fire department – a unit supplied by a local mayor whom the Boston Shadowchasers dealt with – was outside dealing with the fires, while a special Hazmat unit funded in part by Jalal with special equipment was spraying a special liquid on the obelisk to bring the magical emission to a point where it was safe to transport.

In the meantime, Fayte (wrapped in a cloak that Voltaire had somehow produced from his pocket and said something about how a lady shouldn't be walking around naked) was scouring the basement.

He thought Benedict Arnold stashed something here? she thought. Was it buried or something?

Indeed, most of the furnishings aside from the potbelly stove were broken and…

Then she turned to that stove. It had a chimney but…

She looked up. No, there was no ventilation shaft. The chimney was a false one.

She walked over to the stove, and tried the door. It was rusted shut, but that was no problem for a vampire's superior strength. Or for a frustrated vampire's irate strength.

Aha… she thought, looking inside. Indeed, there was an old envelope inside, and when she looked at it, her eyes narrowed carefully

It was sealed with wax, stamped by the letters "B.A." with a signet ring.

"Mrs. Nyte…" said Voltaire. She turned it to him. "Oh…" he said.

"Mrs. Nyte!" screamed Drumer. He struggled to get up, and looked like he was going to try to make a rush for her, but Luther held him back as easily as a leash held a small dog.

"You are not going anywhere," he ordered, sternly.

Drumer swallowed hard. "Mrs. Nyte, please, just let me look at what's in there. I've spent my whole life looking for it. What's in that envelope could change history!"

"I know," she replied. "So no."

"Please!" he begged. "I've searched all my life! I don't care if nobody knows but me! Do you think anyone else would believe me anyway?"

Fayte looked at him. Voltaire looked at her.

"Please…" Drumer begged.

Fayte was expressionless as she handed him the envelope.

"Th-thank you…" he said. As best he could with his hands cuffed, he broke the seal.

"If I'm not mistaken," he said, "what's in here will be orders from a higher command in the Continental Army giving him instructions to surrender West Point…"

He slid the papers out of the envelope, and the room went silent as he started to read them…

Then he nearly fell over. A look that was hard to describe was on his face. He dropped the papers and fell against the wall.

Luther picked up one of them, then started to read. As he did so, a small bit of laughter escaped his lips.

"Gee," he said, looking more amused than he had in years, "I never figured Benedict Arnold for such a romantic…"

"Romantic?" asked Fayte. Voltaire picked up the remaining papers, and started to read.

"Mmm, yes," he said. "These are love letters, written to and received by a woman named… Peggy… Hmm, Peggy… Yes, that was a nickname of Margaret Shippen, his second wife, and given the date here, November of 1778, that would be about halfway between the time they met and their marriage.

"If I recall, her family was known for being Loyalists, and was believed to be friends of Major John André, a British spy thought to be Arnold's British contact. André wasn't as lucky as Arnold… He was caught in the act and hanged.

"There have been numerous theories about Ms. Shippen helping both of them plan the surrender of West Point, and even of her persuading Arnold into doing it… All unfounded and unproven, of course. Nearly a conspiracy theory in itself."

He continued to read, then smirked.

"Yes, very risqué language for the 18th Century. These would have been embarrassing for them, given their social ranking had they had gotten out… If they hadn't been so personal they might have burned them, but he had to store them away somehow."

He shook his head.

"Mr. Drumer, while these letters do seem to present a side of Benedict Arnold nobody knew about, they do nothing to clear him. He was still a traitor."

"In more ways than even he would realize," said Drumer, sadly.

"Mr. Drumer," said Voltaire. He helped the man up slowly. "I know it was your life's work, and it clearly became a dangerous obsession. I realize it would be an understatement to call this a disappointment… Still, despite all that's happened, what happens now is completely up to you.

"It's not too late to turn everything around, possibly find a new goal… If you're willing to do what's right and listen to advice from the ones who really desire to help."

Drummer's face turned a little morose. "You mean state's evidence, right?" he asked.

Voltaire nodded, and turned towards the obelisk.

"I doubt that it was a coincidence that your quest ultimately led you here," he remarked. "This benefactor you spoke of… I have a feeling this was his true goal. And you? Who knows what he might have planned?"

Drumer looked at it.

"I… I think I might consider it…" he said. "It's just a lot to take in. But… Thank you…"

Meanwhile, Fayte had already exited the building after handing Drumer the envelope, the borrowed robe rippling slightly in the quiet night wind.

"Wait…" said Luther's voice as she started to walk away. She slowly turned her head.

"Quite an eventful night," said Luther. He had almost materialized beside her as if he were ghost.

She looked at him snidely. She recognized that tone, and he clearly noticed that she did.

"Fayte, you have to tell me," he said, slowly. "Why were you so scared of what was in that envelope? I mean, on the off-chance that it did have the information he claimed, would it have made a difference?"

"Frederick, how can even ask?" she remarked, turning fully towards him. "Americans are… No, humans can panic at the drop of a hat when they find out that what they thought were the facts were actually lies. That's why Jalal keeps humans and Shadows separate. A human lives next door to a guy for years, the two are friends, the human has had the guy over for barbecues, to watch football, and play cards with his other friends… If he suddenly finds out that this friend of his who's been such a good neighbor all his life is actually a bugbear, everything will change. He might start worrying that the guy will eat his children or something!

"What would Americans think if they suddenly realized that something that's been known about their history for more than two centuries was a lie?"

"Well, I suppose you have been dealing with them longer than I have," he replied, "and I know that it's bad when they find out some things are lies…"

He stopped to look at Fayte, but she apparently didn't take offense, so he went on.

"…but I seem to recall a lie that was nearly six-hundred years old that they handled pretty well."

"Pardon?" asked Fayte.

Frederick looked up at the sky for a minute and then went on.

"Christopher Columbus, Fayte," he said. "For so long, everyone in America 'knew' about how he was a great explorer who set out to prove the world was round, and then discovered the New World. They even taught grade school children songs about it, for crying out loud.

"But eventually, people had to come to terms with the facts.

"Columbus was no explorer, and only complete fools back then didn't realize the world was round. He was a merchant who had the same goal as any other, to find the fabled Eastern Passage to the Orient and become rich.

"He planned his trip rather poorly too, miscalculating just how long it would take to circumnavigate the globe. His crew would have starved to death had they not 'discovered' land.

"Grade school children were also never taught how he enslaved the Taino tribe either, or that disobedient natives under his authority were often dismembered as punishment.

"So how did Americans react when the truth became widespread? They didn't 'panic', as you said. Columbus Day celebrations started to become less popular. A few cities on the East Coast started to regard it as a day of Italian pride, but all in all, people coped."

Neither of them said anything for a few minutes. Then Frederick went on.

"You see Fayte, humans are smarter than a lot of Shadows think. That was the Grand Generals' biggest flaw, they were… What's the word?"

"Cynics?" asked Fayte.

"Exactly…" replied Luther. "Maybe they could have avoided a lot of trouble if they stopped for a minute to realize that the rest of the world wasn't as stupid as they thought it was."

She didn't reply, and again, there was a long silence. Then Luther changed the subject.

"Want to get some coffee? And some clothing?"

"No, because I do not like coffee," she remarked as she eyed him out of the corner of her eye.
"And no, because your taste in clothing is suspect."

"Not even for old times' sake?"

"Which old time you want this to be for the sake of, Luthor? Paris? Belgium? Ontario? Zimbabwe?" Fayte shook her head at him. "I have better things to do than relive the glory days."

He frowned at her. "I am not so petty, Fayte. We are vampires, but that doesn't mean there isn't more to us than just a lost kingdom and a war."

"Is that so?" Fayte gave him a critical eye again. "You may think you have not gotten your fair chance, Luther, but in truth, you never had a chance at all. Not for me, with me or our race."

His frown deepened for a moment, then he sighed and offered up a weak, but charming smile. "You never change, do you? Even after a hundred years."

"Change..." Fayte's eyes wandered around the night landscape, pausing only when she found what she was looking for. Off a little ways was the massive form of her Nightmare, Alexandre standing patiently as a succubus deftly fit Tempest, Fayte's sword and other armaments into Alexandre's saddlebags. "Immortal and eternal we are, Luther...but change is as much our constant as it ever was. Perhaps you should consider it. Or like that foolish human, Drumer, you'll find whatever it is you were chasing is nothing but a ghost."

Luther didn't reply, watching her stride purposefully towards her mount, the French vampire pausing to give her wife a kiss and suck a few swallows of blood before they both mounted the Nightmare.

As they galloped off, Luther smiled and shook his head. "Ahh, cherie...you have made a ghost of my heart yet again."

"Hmm?" Voltaire appeared so suddenly next to the vampire that Luther jumped a little. "Forgive me, I just felt like something horribly and tragically romantic just happened. I don't like missing those things."

"Heh...well, Voltaire, buy me a cup of coffee and I'll tell you all about it..."

"...Luther, do you even have any money at the moment?"

The only response he got was Luther's innocent whistle.

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In Raleigh, Sofia lay in bed, looking at the ceiling. Again, she couldn't sleep.

She reached over and turned on the light, then picked up the note Philip had given her, the one where he had told her that Ferdinand went to some restaurant on Sundays. It was a Chinese place in Atlantic City, but they hadn't found anything suspicious about it. Jalal had told her he'd send some folks watch the place on Sunday, but had told her he didn't want her involved with them.

Tomorrow – or rather, later today – was Wednesday, so she could just go there then and ask around… It wouldn't technically be disobeying…

For about the third time today, she wondered just how often Jalal had actually fired a Shadowchaser…

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DEMISE LORD (Monster Card)

Fiend/Dark/Lvl6/1,300ATK/2,000DEF

Effect: When this card is destroyed by battle, Special Summon it from your Graveyard during the End Phase. If Special Summoned by this effect, its ATK then becomes 3,000 and it cannot be destroyed by card effects. (The effect of "Demise Lord" can only be used once per duel per player.)

Note: "Demise Lord" first appeared in the Yu-Gi-Oh GX episode "Don't Fear the Reper".

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BARON PUMPKING (Monster Card)

Zombie/Dark/Lvl5/1,600ATK/1,600DEF

Effect: You may Special Summon this card (from your hand) if your opponent controls more monsters than you do and you do not control any non-Zombie-Type monsters. Zombie-Type monsters other than "Baron Pumpking" cannot be destroyed by card effects on the turn they are summoned. If this card is destroyed by a card effect, Special Summon 1 "Pumpking the King of Ghosts" from your hand or deck in face-up Defense Mode.

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PUMPKING'S RETRIBUTION (Spell Card)

Quickplay Spell

Image: The young man from the "Heart of the Underdog" card nervously wandering down the road in a dark woods. Lit jack-o-lanterns with frightening faces are mounted on fence posts to the side of the road, and the Red Ghost Moon looms overhead.

Effect: Activate when a "Pumpking" or "Pumprincess" monster you control is destroyed by battle; after the resolution of this effect, take that monster from your Graveyard and place it in your Spell/Trap Zone as a Continuous Spell.

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HORROR'S HARVEST (Trap Card)

Continuous Trap

Image: An old farmer with a pitchfork, trying to fight off horrific pumpkin monsters in a cornfield at night. In the background, an evil-looking scarecrow with a jack-o-lantern for a head watches.

Effect: Activate when a "Pumpking" or "Pumprincess" monster you control is destroyed by battle and you take 2,000 or more points of damage from that single battle. Select 1 Zombie-Type monster in your Graveyard for every 1,000 points of damage taken, and Special Summon them. The effects of monsters Special Summoned this way are negated. If this card is destroyed, banish all cards in your Spell/Trap Zone; face-down cards banished this way cannot be activated. You can only control 1 "Horror's Harvest" and may only activate 1 per turn.

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CANDLE LIGHT (Spell Card)

Ritual Spell

Image: Queen Pumpking holding a lit jack-o-lantern exuding green mist, while standing outside a summoning pentagram. She stands in a clearing in the woods on a starry night.

Effect: This card is used to Ritual Summon "Pumpking the First Ghost". You must also Tribute monsters whose total Levels equal 8 or more from the field or your hand. Alternatively, 1 "Pumpking the King of Ghosts" can serve as the entire Tribute. During your turn, if no monsters are in your Spell/Trap Zone acting as Continuous Spells, you may banish this card from your Graveyard to take 2 Zombie-Type monsters from your Graveyard and place them in your Spell/Trap Zone as Continuous Spells.

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PUMPKING THE FIRST GHOST (Monster Card)

Zombie/Dark/Ritual/Effect/Lvl8/0ATK/0DEF

Effect: Ritual Summoned via the effect of "Candle Light". When this card is Ritual Summoned, select 2 Zombie-Type monsters from your Graveyard and place them in your Spell/Trap Zone as Continuous Spells. The ATK and DEF of this card are equal to the combined ATK of the printed ATK on all Zombie-Type monster cards in your Spell/Trap Zone acting as Continuous Spells. If this card would be destroyed (by battle or by card effect) you may send one Zombie-Type monster in your Spell/Trap Zone to the Graveyard to prevent it from being destroyed. During the end phase of the turn, either send 1 Zombie-Type monster in your Spell/Trap Zone to the Graveyard or destroy this card.

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Falagar: Tuesday was over, technically, for the Shadowchasers, but one loose end remained for another, smaller organization who usually did their best to avoid them.

What had happened to Cattivo Fanciullo? What indeed?

"Murder by the Numbers" is coming soon.

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Shadowchasers Files

Beasts: Spellhaunt

"Know how to make a wizard jump out of his skin? Yell, 'Look out! A spellhaunt!' Works every time!"

Miles Tarnish, gnome prankster, deceased.

It's tough when you're a human who's just gained Awareness. You have a lot to take in, realizing that the world isn't as simple as you thought. It's full or strangeness and magic, and all the things you thought were fantasy are reality.

And for those who embrace this strangeness in order to gain power from it, like wizards, they must accept even more bizarre realities, accept the fact that things which even Shadows would consider impossible are often very possible. The spellhaunt is an example of something that no-one would consider possible except the type who understands that anything is possible.

A spellhaunt is a remnant of a spell that is cast in a place where it shouldn't have been. A creature of pure, magical energy, it's an incorporeal, thing with a vaguely humanoid shape. Some of them have an appearance that suggests the spell that spawned them, say, a flaming cloud for a Fireball or a dark, sinister-looking shadow in the case of Enervation. No two look alike.

It's very hard to say whether or not spellhaunts are living creatures, seeing as they aren't organic beings with true bodies, aren't born in any normal way, and – thankfully – can't reproduce. But while they seem mindless, they do have one base instinct common to animals, that of survival and self-preservation. Thing is, to survive, they have to eat magic. So to Mundanes or anyone who isn't carrying magic on him (or in him) a spellhaunt is harmless. But to practitioners of magic like wizards, magical beings, or even humans who are simply carrying enchanted items, a spellhaunt is a dangerous predator.

Simply put, when a spellhaunt encounters a source of magic, it heads straight for it (or the largest source, if it can detect multiple sources) and starts draining the magic from it. This process consumes magic in the following order: enchantments causing temporary effects (like protective spells a wizard has cast upon himself), then enchantments causing permanent effects (like rings and cloaks that protect the wearer in some way), then magical items that are not causing any effects at present (like wands), then any memorized spells that haven't been cast yet. (In the case of human spellcasters.)

A spellhaunt is hard to fight. Trying to use most magic against it only feeds it (wizard tend to laugh at the old saying "fight fire with fire", something that rarely ever works with magical beings), but it is possible to destroy it with spells that negate, dispel, or prevent magical effects. It's also hard to hurt with physical weapons, being made of energy, although a few expensive alchemical concoctions can drive it away. Wizards usually deal with these things by running from them while dropping their least powerful potions and spell scrolls, the same strategy as throwing meat to an angry dog. (And it often works; fortunately, a spellhaunt will go away after it is sated enough from eating.)

No-one is clear just how exactly spellhaunts are created, but they seem to pop up when magic is used in places where the physical laws regarding the physical, magical, and/or spiritual environment are… strange. It was once thought that there was a connection between them and wild magic, but they have even been created by the spells cast by folks as orderly as the Guvners.

Thus far, there hasn't been any disasters. Nothing has yet created them in large numbers and none has ever gotten into a place where vital information is stored in magical tomes. Fortunately, it seems like no-one can create them on purpose… yet.

Story Ideas: Spellhaunts are dangerous pests, and no wizard ever wants them around, but some would love to know how to create and control them. Many have tried to study them, hoping to use the magic-draining power for their own purposes, but field research in this case is risky. Being mindless, a spellhaunt can't be communicated with, and being immune to most magic, it can't be controlled…

Maybe. There are rumors that one of the names on the Shadowchasers' Ten Most Wanted List actually has been able to train and domesticate spellhaunts, and uses them to defend his sanctuary and perform simple errands. No-one has ever seen a spellhaunt taking orders from anyone, but then, no wizard could really say that a spellhaunt wasn't under someone's control when it attacked him. One would hope these rumors are untrue, or if they are, this criminal who has found a way to tame spellhaunts is not keen on sharing.

In a story with a powerful villain where use of magical spells is involved, it's possible that he would be this criminal. Keep in mind, a plausible way to do it would have to be developed.