The Undertaker paced amongst the overgrowth in the cemetery as he waited for his former apprentice to show with his boyish companion. Suppose William didn't show up...what then? He shrugged. No matter. He could go on alone. He still wasn't entirely sure why he'd offered to share what he knew with the lad in the first place. This foe could be handled with the proper wit and preparation, after all. Wasn't as though he needed Will's help to deal with it.

"But my dollies can only provide so much conversation," he mused to himself, dragging his nails over a broken headstone absently. "William's so much more interesting."

It occurred to him that he spent more time talking to himself and the dead than he did with other living beings, and the mortician laughed softly to himself. "Ah, how disappointed he must be."

For some reason that notion bothered him a bit, and the Undertaker paused and cocked his head, his smile freezing on his lips. Yes...he'd gone from a legendary Dispatch agent to this broken and twisted creature that he was now. Mayhap William was sincere in his desire to help him, but Undertaker valued his freedom as much as the next person.

"What's broken with me can't be easily mended, m'boy," he muttered with a sigh. William was a stubborn sort, though. He'd keep on pushing for it no matter how Undertaker warned him against it. That young reaper with the dual-toned blond and black hair seemed to be more aware of that fact than William himself was. For a moment, the ancient felt a stab of regret and he considered the tension he'd sensed in his previous student.

"Careful, Willy," he whispered. "Dwelling too much could put you into the state I'm in now."

The thought did not amuse him.

After getting startled awake by his alarm, William practically dragged his protesting companion into the shower and he helped him to change into a fresh uniform. Once they were dressed, he took a deep breath, put on his hat and assured that he had all he needed on him. "I believe we are ready to depart, Ronald," he said as he straightened his officer's cap. "What say you?"

"I say my pillow is calling my name." The drowsy boy replied with a yawn. Waking up was not an easy or simple task for Ronald. Once he was asleep, he enjoyed being asleep—which contrasted with how he'd usually avoid sleep for the thrill of a party or date.

But they had work to do, and he knew that that took priority. He sighed and rubbed his eye under his glasses. "Okay, lets get this over with so I can finish my date in dreamland."

William chose not to lecture him for what he perceived as a lazy attitude, having grown used to Ronald's love affair with sleep. They left their lodgings and traversed the realms to make their way to the cemetery where the Undertaker supposedly would be waiting for them. There was an ill-favored feeling in the air...a tension that William couldn't quite put his finger on. It was like the world was holding its breath, waiting for something. Perhaps it was just his own quiet anxiety making him imagine it, however.

As they neared the stone fencing of the graveyard, William heard a moan that gave rise to goosebumps, and he summoned his death scythe without a second thought. A figure came shuffling toward the broken gate, moving in a disjointed manner that was becoming all too familiar to William. It was one of the Undertaker's zombies, and he kept his scythe ready and watched it warily as it approached them gracelessly.

"Keep your distance," he warned the creature, but it didn't appear to be making any aggressive moves. It was male, and it opened its mouth to speak as it stopped before the two reapers. Drool glistened on its lips and chin as it spoke in a gurgling voice.

"Master says...you follow me," said the doll.

"Second thoughts on meeting us in the place he wanted to meet us?" Ronald sighed, "after leading us to that pub just to lead us here to lead us someplace else... I feel like we are following bread crumbs, Will. What do you think? Follow it or reap it?"

He twirled his scythe in his fingers then rested it on his shoulder. "Luckily this one doesn't seem to want to make us dinner."

"I believe," said William cautiously as the apparition began to turn and shuffle off back into the graveyard, "it may be leading us to the Undertaker's direct location within this cemetery. Keep your guard up and follow with me, Ronald."

"You...don't think it's a trap, do you?" Ronald asked, eyeing the doll. He didn't trust it—or the Undertaker, but he did trust William. So if William thought it was safe, then he'd be less jumpy, at least.

"As unpredictable as the Undertaker can be," murmured William as he began to follow the doll, "I think it would be contrary to his own interests to lure us into a trap. He knows that I always keep my word, so he has no reason to believe we are trying to lead Dispatch to him for his arrest. I said that we would refrain from trying to bring him in until after this is finished, and I meant that. Whether this meeting will be productive or not is anyone's guess, however."

Ronald took a deep breath and sighed, following a half step behind William, "If you trust him to keep up his end, then I'll trust him," he stated as they weaved their way between the tombs. "Still don't like how our escort is a dead guy...wish he would have met us himself to lead us deeper in if he wanted to be someplace specific."

"I feel this is a test," postulated William in a low voice. He stepped over a broken headstone, keeping his eyes on their guide and his hands on his scythe. "Death was always fond of testing me...seeing what I was made of. Perhaps he presumed we would change our minds about this meeting when presented with a living corpse as a guide."

It seemed logical to William. Undertaker would want to demonstrate once more the sort of minions he was working with, both to give them a last chance to back out and to determine whether they had the gumption to keep going. The bizarre doll came up to a tomb with a broken chain on the door, and he pulled said door open with a jarring creak of rusty hinges. Looking back at them with blank, dead eyes, the creature gestured and shuffled inside. The golden flicker of a torch set into the wall dimly lit the tomb's entry, and there were stairs leading down into the ground. With a glance at his partner, William shrugged stoically and followed the doll.

It led them into a basement level burial chamber, and there sitting on a marble coffin was the Undertaker. He was busily examining some documents, and he glanced up when they entered the burial chamber. "Go stand over there and be quiet," he bid his minion with a nod toward the open chambers in the wall, each filled with dusty human remains. He smiled at his guests and he set aside the paperwork. "Well now, you came after all. I s'pose that's a good thing."

William loosened his collar a bit, glancing around at distaste. "A rather unusual place to conduct a meeting, sir."

The mortician chuckled and hopped off the sarcophagus. "Not for me, William."

The brunet inclined his head, conceding. "I suppose not. I would have much preferred a room at an inn, however."

"Have you had a look at the lodgings 'round here?" Undertaker snorted. "Trust me, it wouldn't have been much better than this. Now, I know you chaps have some questions and I've got a few of my own, so let's get started, yeah?"

"Indeed." William stepped closer to his former mentor, his eyes flicking briefly to the motionless doll at the back of the chamber. "Do you know who or what is behind the rash of blank records? I know that you have been following them, but you have not explained what it's all about."

"Hmm." Undertaker tapped his nails against his chin. "I do know a thing or two, but it's a might hard t' explain it in a way you'll believe. Ever heard of a leiche, boy?"

William's brow furrowed. Yes, he was familiar with the German word for "corpse", but they were currently surrounded by such things. "I fail to understand what the dead have to do with my question, sir...other than having their records wiped."

"Ah, but you know the legends behind it, don't you?" Undertaker rubbed his pale hands together. "I'm not talking about your common dead body or even my dollies. We'd call it 'lich' in English. Ring a bell at all?"

William thought back to some of the lessons he'd had in the academy. Folklore was a part of it, because some creatures of legend actually did exist and Dispatch required agents to have some knowledge of them. "An undead necromancer?" he asked with a doubtful frown.

The Undertaker raised a finger and nodded. "Kewpie doll for the gentleman."

"But sir, that makes no sense," argued William respectfully. "The suspect has not been raising the dead. It has been erasing their cinematic records."

"Well, that's where history went wrong," explained the mortician. "The only dead they actually 'raise' are themselves. They stash their souls in a phylactery so they can't be killed unless it's destroyed, right? That's the first bit of necromancy there."

"Then what is it doing with the records?"

Undertaker sighed. "Ah, there's the question, eh? Those folklore books didn't part with a lot of information on how these buggers feed." He shrugged. "Now we know."

"Wait-wait-wait just a second. Are you saying that a dead guy raised himself and is now acting like a demon by consuming souls?" Ronald interjected, crossing his arms. "Whatever for? What purpose? I was under the impression that those guys existed to raise an army of the dead to attempt creating an Apocalypse and throw off the balance of life and death. But here you are saying it is just walking around eating soul records? Doesn't really seem that big of a deal to me."

The mortician blinked at the boy. "Not a big deal? Son, I'd say devouring the memories of the dead is more than a tiny thing. It's not so different from soul consumption, like you said. You were on the right track with that. Problem is, even if you leave the soul intact, what's left once you've destroyed all the things that made that soul who and what it was? Nothing but an empty shell, that's what. You're left with a ghost that has no memories, no personality and no inkling of where to go in the afterlife. A blank slate."

The mortician shrugged again. "Might have been kinder for a demon to eat them, if you ask me. It makes it easier for me to make dollies out of this fellow's victims, but their souls might as well be kaput. My friend over there was one of 'em, y' see." He nodded at the doll across the chamber. "When his body gives up eventually, his soul is going to wander, with nothing to contribute to the vaults or the afterlife. That's where the apocalypse comes in, m'dear. Too many empty souls haunting the afterlife and that balance you just spoke of goes 'poof'. At least my original dollies still have their records intact. When they go, they'll still be themselves, understand?"

"You mean... wait..." Ronald paused, trying to process the information. "Okay, so it's making an army of blank ghosts that will wander around as we can't collect them, but their souls aren't eaten, just their records are...but your Dolls are not the same because they still have their records or something? I'm confused. I thought that your dolls were bodies that already had their souls collected. Back on the ship when Grell and I were fighting them, no records spilled out to be collected. They just...went back to being dead. I thought you put like, fake records in them to make them move?"

"I altered their records," corrected the mortician, "and it's not so easy to draw out their records if you don't know how to. Either way, their memories up 'till their deaths are still in there. It's when the reel is s'posed to end that the alterations come in and loop them. 'Twas quite a feat to perfect the process, you know, and I'm still perfecting it even now. Why, I can make dollies so lifelike they can't be detected for what they truly are, until it's too late."

He grinned at the two of them. "In fact, I've got a couple in the Nazi ranks right now, keeping an eye on things for me. Isn't that marvelous?"

"Quite," said William without enthusiasm. "Now, back to the alleged lich. Where did the creature come from? Dispatch has never actually dealt with one of them before to my knowledge, which gives rise to the belief that they never truly existed."

"Oh, they've existed in the past, all right," assured the Undertaker. His eyes became distant as he recalled old memories. "I've dealt with one or two before, in fact. The board didn't put it on public record. You'd have to dig in the top confidential files to find those. Nasty bit of business, that was, but both of those cases happened a terribly long time ago—back in the time of the pharaohs, and again some two hundred years later. They're really quite rare, and neither of the two I encountered were as powerful as this one."

"I see," murmured William, and he made a mental note to try and get access to those restricted files at some point, to confirm the truth or falsity of Undertaker's claims. "But how did this one come to be? If he is so powerful, where has he been for all this time? We should have gotten reports of these blank records before now, I imagine."

"He's new."

William frowned at the ancient. "I beg your pardon?"

Undertaker huffed and crossed his arms over his chest. "He hasn't been around long, William. That's why you've just started seeing the evidence. What is a leiche, chap? We just went over it a bit ago."

"A mortal that stores his soul in a phylactery so that he or she can achieve everlasting life," sighed William. "So what you are saying is that this creature was once human and recently resurrected itself as a leiche?"

"Something like that," agreed the Undertaker. The next comment was muffled by his sleeve and he coughed. "Mmft had somefin t' do wif it."

"Could you repeat that last part, sir? Your sleeve was muffling your words."

Undertaker cleared his throat and for a moment, he almost looked sheepish. "I said I might have had something to do with it."

William exchanged a confused look with Ronald. "With what? The leiche raising itself?"

Undertaker sighed and gestured at the documents on the stone coffin. "Bloke got his hands on some of my research notes, and he stole one of my books from the reaper realm. It had all the information he needed, and he was quite the brilliant scientist. He's the one that commissioned me to come work for the axis, you see. I took him up on it out of curiosity, but then I decided I wasn't going to go along with it quite like they thought. Sometime after I came here, the good doctor disappeared with those notes and that book. I caught a glimpse of him after the empty records started showing up, and there's no doubt in my mind he's our leiche."

"You—lost confidential reaper knowledge? You left it sitting where a human could just snatch it up without your knowing until suddenly we have a problem on our hands?" Ronald scolded, sounding entirely too much like William as he did so. "Why haven't you reported this to the council? We've been going crazy trying to figure out what in the world has been going on!"

Undertaker frowned at him, and William quickly inserted himself between the two of them. "My partner makes a valid point, Undertaker. This could have been dealt with much sooner, if you had but contacted Dispatch and let them know of it."

The mortician pursed his lips briefly and he leaned back against the coffin, his eyes flashing beneath his pale bangs. "I didn't know for sure myself, until I saw him again. It took a bit of investigating on my part to work out the truth of it myself, and by then you lot showed up...so in principle, I did contact Dispatch. You two are here talking with me about it now, aren't you?"

William sighed. "Yes we are, but I shall have to report this to our superiors, Undertaker. They must know what is going on. I could leave out your involvement in the birth of this creature, but the board needs to know what it is that we are dealing with. If the documentation leading up to the creature's transformation has not been destroyed, it would be in everyone's better interest to retrieve it from him before dispatching him. I shudder to think of this knowledge making it into the hands of other ambitious mortals. Ridding the world of this one will avail us nothing, if he passes the technique onto others before he can be stopped."

William had never considered himself to be a very imaginative reaper, but he could easily visualize the crisis they'd have on their hands if more lich's sprung up all across the country. It could become and epidemic that could lead to a catastrophe, if they failed to nip this in the bud soon enough.

"I, erm," Ronald rubbed the back of his neck and sighed as he peeked around William at Undertaker, "I wasn't trying to accuse you of much, sir... I just call it as I see it. You got sloppy, but at least you're trying to correct it, yeah?"

Undertaker shrugged. "In my own odd way, yes. The question is whether you two are up to the challenge. I'm not sure of this chap's abilities yet, 'cause he keeps slipping through my bony old fingers. I think I could deal with him on my lonesome, but the problem is finding the bloody thing and keeping him found, y' see? I reckon with three of us on the hunt, the chance of closing in on him and boxing him in will be better. I just don't know what to tell you to expect, once we do get him cornered. I think he can manipulate the local weather, for one thing. If he's anything like the others I've run into in the past, he also commands the chill. He'd definitely have some arcane talents to boot, though every lich I've encountered is a li'l different from the last. I've a theory that what they can do depends on what they were like in life."

"And what is this creature's name, sir?" queried William. "Or rather, what was it in life?"

"Ah, that would be doctor Oswald Becker. Like I said, the fellow got wind of my work with the dollies and he offered me the job. Had I known he'd steal my documents and figure out how to turn himself into a leiche with it, I'd have probably declined."

"Only probably?" Ron asked. He sighed and looked around the grim little room. "How are you tracking him? We were only able to track you and we just keep finding random soulless bodies on the way. If we know how you do it, we can do the same. Also, how do we kill it? Can we dispatch him or do we have to find his... what did you call it? The...thingy he put his soul in so he can't die. If that's the case, shouldn't we be searching for where he hid it and take care of him that way?"

"The phylactery," answered the mortician, "and yes, it has to be destroyed before he can be. As for how to track him, I've got certain methods aside from following the trail of buggered up records. I'm very in touch with the dead, you know. What I can't find for myself, they usually help with. You just need to understand how to commune with 'em, is all."

Will sighed. "And how do we achieve that, sir?"

Undertaker grinned at him. "Go mad. They're attracted to the insane. Most of those voices that people in madhouses claim to hear are actually the voices of the dead."

"I'd rather not be a loon. I'm too young and sexy for that!" Ron crossed his arms.

"Insanity is a path I'd rather not traverse myself, if I can help it," William agreed. "We shall simply have to employ other methods to track down this lich. Has he any known patterns that we might use to our advantage? Any preference in prey?" He considered the bodies that they'd come across with the empty reels, and he couldn't see anything distinguishing between them but perhaps the Undertaker had some insight on that.

"Tends to pick the young ones," explained the Undertaker. "Not too young, mind. I haven't run across any children he's fed on, but he seems to have a taste for folk around Knox's age, most of all. The funny thing is he's only gone after the ones destined to die anyhow, so either he's found some way to access the death lists or he senses their demise coming."

Ronald shivered at that. "I'm liking this guy less and less. Uh-these things only target...humans, right?" he asked, nervously. He didn't want to become a blank little reaper-ghost.

Undertaker grimaced. "Most of the time. Not to say they can't develop a taste for reapers, because it's happened before. The first one I went after in Egypt killed a couple of agents from London Dispatch that were there to investigate, and that's when they sent me in. He bit off more than he could chew with 'em though. Their records were only half devoured." He scratched his chin in thought. "So far this one doesn't seem to have a liking for our kind, though. He's been going after mortal deceased, so just don't die on the job and tempt him to try reaper as a meal."

"I should hope not." William found the possibility just as alarming as Ronald did. As terrible as it was for mortals to have their existence more or less wiped out, he'd always been distant from it. Demons could not devour reaper souls, and mortals were lesser beings. To discover there existed a creature out there that could do such a thing to his kind was disconcerting, at best.

"That doesn't exactly make me feel better." Ron muttered, "I just may look tasty to him and if he sees me helping to try to take him down...may not matter that I'm still alive. I'd rather go after his phylactery-thing. Maybe if we can find his life-book we can find where he hid it. Or at least get some ideas."

"I have no way to track that down yet," said the Undertaker, "and he's not likely to tell us if we catch him, so finding it could be tricky. I scoured the tombs of his hometown as soon as I discovered what he'd done, but I didn't find anything. Chances are he keeps it locked away somewhere hidden, if he's not carrying it around with him. Seeing as he was quite the intelligent bloke in life, I don't think he'd risk keeping it on his person. Hmm."

William frowned in thought. "You said he was a doctor. Would he be in the habit of keeping notes? Perhaps if we could locate them, we might find a clue of where he's hidden it. He wouldn't want to risk forgetting where he put his own soul, I imagine."

"No, he wouldn't," agreed the mortician, "but neither would he be careless enough to blatantly put it into writing where he keeps it. He wouldn't leave that door open for others to find. If anything, he'd have the information encrypted. It'd be in some form of code he devised to make it less likely anyone reading it would know what they're really looking at, y' see."

"Or...life-book." Ronald repeated with a grunt, "Seriously, it has his entire life recorded in it. If he hid it while he was alive and not a necromancer, it'll be there in writing! Plus, He was human, right? so he wouldn't know that Reapers have libraries of human lives and deaths and all that! It's worth a try, right?"

"There's only one problem with that, lad." Undertaker held a finger up. "When a mortal turns itself into a leiche, the books get muddled. It's an unnatural thing that goes against the natural order, and when that happens, it changes the events according to how the leiche sees it. They're in defiance of the balance and the laws of nature, so whether they do it on purpose or not, they warp their own life records once they make the transformation. Since the life book only records life and the leiche is now willfully undead, the text gets corrupted. What you read in their life book isn't usually the truth of it, 'cause of this. Its part of what makes them so dangerous, this un-life they lead."

"A bit like your 'dolls'," observed William shrewdly.

Undertaker stammered a bit, defensive. "I'm not on trial, here!"

"Not yet," sighed William. "Regardless, I am sure there is a grain of truth to be found in the life book, even if the creature has managed to warp his to suit his own agenda, as you allege. I believe it's worth investigation. If nothing else, it may provide us with some small clue as to where he has hidden the phylactery."

"Thank you!" Ron said, grateful that his suggestion wouldn't be completely ignored. His being so young often times made older reapers ignore him as his experience in life was still lacking. And it made him feel a little useless to investigations he was assigned to. And on this investigation, he was partnered up with the man he loved, and the man that his lover idolized. He was sure he'd take a more emotional blow to rejection if all his suggestions had been brushed aside like they had been in past assignments before the war. He'd hate to be the unwanted and unneeded third wheel.

"Goodness, he's like a puppy," chuckled the Undertaker. "He really likes you, Willy. Reminds me a bit of the way you were when—"

"Very good, sir," interrupted William before the Undertaker could dredge up an embarrassing account of how desperate for approval he'd been when he was around Ronald's age. "If you would be so kind as to continue tracking the lich, I think that Knox and I should spend the day tomorrow seeking out the creature's life book and going through it. It would not due to lose the trail, and we may find something useful in his records, even if they are corrupted."

"Hm, not a bad plan," grunted the mortician. He pushed away from the coffin and glided over to the wall of human remains. For a moment he swayed on his feet, looking vaguely entranced. William cringed inwardly at the sight, well-aware of how strange it was and hoping he wouldn't hear more criticism of his former mentor from Ronald.

After several minutes, the Undertaker stood in silence, head cocked as if listening to someone only he could hear. Uncomfortable with his behavior, William politely cleared his throat. "Sir?"

The mortician gave a little start and he turned to look at his guests. "Oh! Ah, so sorry about that. I was listening to them, y' see." He jerked his thumb in the direction of the open chambers.

William covertly covered his mouth and nose in a cough. The dank smell of decay down here was starting to make him queasy. "As you say, sir. Do we have an accord?"

"Oh yes," agreed the Undertaker with a nod that made his top-hat slide a little on his head. He righted it. "You two kiddies best be off to get some rest, then. I'll be in touch, and we can meet up again later to tell each other what we've found."

William hesitated. "And how do you plan to 'be in touch'? How will we reach you when we return?"

The ancient grinned. "My dollies, of course! I'll leave this fellow here if I leave the area before you return, and he'll tell you where to go next. If I'm not there then you'll find another dollie in the nearest convenient graveyard to give you my next location. Easy peasy."

William somehow avoided making a face. "What a...convenient and grotesque messaging system you've come up with. Very well, I suppose there is no help for it. We shall work as quickly as possible and meet up with you again to report what we've found...or haven't."

Undertaker waved a hand, his long sleeve flapping. "Right-o. Until next time, then."

William sighed and he nudged his companion, ready to get out of this tomb.

"Oh, just a moment, William."

The brunet paused as his former mentor crept across the floor, practically looming over him. He took a half a step back, disconcerted. "What is it?"

Undertaker looked around as if making sure nobody was watching—which was absurd—and then he leaned in to whisper in William's ear. "About that madness I mentioned before: If the voices start talking to you, don't answer. Shut them out."

William stared at him. "I...will remember that."

Undertaker smiled, backed off a bit and patted his arm. "Of course you will. You were my best and brightest student. Good evening to you, Willy."

William swallowed, suffering a blend of emotions ranging from fear to nostalgia. "And to you, sir. Until we meet again."

Giving a stiff little bow, William followed after Ronald and he nearly took the steps two at a time. Once they were outside in the fresh night air again, he muttered to Ronald: "While we are in our realm, I'm getting that man a mobile phone."

"You think he'll know how to use one, 'Willy'?" Ronald teased with a chuckle. Undertaker didn't seem to ever have reaper technology with him other than his scythe, after all. "Why does he call you that, anyway? The nickname doesn't quite suit you."

William cleared his throat and averted his gaze. "Once upon a time, it might have. He is the only being in the realms to ever call me by that nickname, and I would appreciate it if you would keep it between us. As for the phone, we can tutor him on how to use it. I'd much rather get a call from him than have more dialog with his walking corpses...wouldn't you agree?"

Ronald nodded, "Phone, or at least carrier pidgins." he agreed. "And don't worry, 'Willy' stays between us. I prefer 'Will', myself. Especially after you had me screaming it out earlier this evening!" he smirked playfully, stepping closer and whispering, "I look forward to you making me do so again sometime."

William's face heated at the memory, though not out of embarrassment. He would like nothing more than to make Ronald call his name like that again and again. It was certainly a prettier thought than dealing with this leiche—or lich, and conversing with the dead. He put thoughts of Undertaker's grim warning about imaginary voices out of his head, and he allowed himself the pleasure of putting an arm around Ronald to give him a brief squeeze.

"I fully intend to comply with that wish, when things have settled down."

Ronald glanced over his shoulder at the tomb they had just climbed out of to make sure no elder reaper eyes were watching before he smiled and popped onto his toes to press a kiss to William's lips, "I can hardly wait." he whispered.

He then sighed. They had reports for the day to turn in, still. "We should head back and finish work up so we can get back to bed. I'd like to finish my dreams before we have to get up in the morning."

"Indeed," conceded William, resisting the urge to pull Ronald up against him and give him a deeper kiss in response to the smooch. "We've a lot of work ahead of us, so best we finish those reports quickly."

He wondered what tomorrow would bring, and he hoped that the board would not inadvertently interfere with his and Ronald's investigation by assigning more reapers to it. He would insist that they give him the opportunity to try and deal with the situation before putting more agents onto it. He didn't need the added strain of trying to conceal his collaboration with the Undertaker from prying eyes.

William's hopes were dashed the next morning, when he and Ronald arrived at reaper London headquarters and he was called to the head of the board's office before they could even begin to seek out Becker's life book. He sighed after getting off the phone with his superior. "Ronald, I must go to discuss things with the board. You should go to the library as planned and find that life book. Please remember not to mention the Undertaker unless someone directly asks you, and if they do, just say that he escaped before we could question him."

It wasn't exactly a lie, as that was what initially happened. There was no need to confess their later meeting with him at this point. He would deal with the consequences of keeping that from the board later. The top priority right now was to track down the lich's stored soul and destroy it before too much further damage occurred.

Ronald nodded, "I won't be able to start reading it, though. So try to hurry so you can translate what it says." Because the Lich was German, and his life-book was in the German Great Library, the text would naturally be in German.

With a salute, Ronald turned and hurried off to start his search.

Some time later, William transferred back to the Berlin division and he met up with Ronald in the library. He was at least pleased to see that the blond had already found the life book they were after, but his mood was soured by his meeting with the head of his board. He joined Ronald at the research table and he spoke in a low voice.

"They wish to assign Sutcliff to assist with the investigation," he informed, "even though he is currently on a reaping assignment with Jeffries. I pointed that out, and they suggested Slingby and Humphries. Idiots!"

He compressed his lips with annoyance. "I won't have some desk squatter that knows nothing about actual reaping handling my department whilst I am away. I believe I have convinced them for now to allow us to handle this until I deem it necessary to bring more agents into it, but it would not surprise me if we soon have Sutcliff to deal with, as well as all this."

"Well," Ronald slid the life book over to William as he was the one who'd be able to read it, "At least if they do force Grell, Eric, or Alan on us, we know we'll be working with someone we can trust with the whole Undertaker part of this thing." He said, looking for a silver lining in the situation should the council deem it a necessity that they have help sooner than when William deemed it so. "But we totally should have asked Undertaker last night when this guy's birth year had been. Would have made it easier to find this book. I spent so much time searching the catalog for his name in all the possible birth years. I started to think you'd appear behind me before I found it! I actually just sat down maybe three minuets ago with this thing." he patted the cover of the book.

"Undertaker was right, though. I don't even have to read German to know this thing is a bit of a mess. The text is discolored, faded, miss-aligned, spaced, smushed, and morphed into a completely different hand-writing than the easy-to-read default that all life books are recorded in. Good luck reading it. hopefully you can." Ronald rested his chin on the palm of his hand and propped his elbow on the table.

William opened up the book and adjusted his glasses. His eyes scanned over the pages as he turned them and a frown of growing intensity graced his lips. His brows furrowed as he peered at one particular passage and he whispered the translation aloud.

"August twelfth, 1926: Oswald licked a...hat."

He scowled a bit and tried to make sense of the rest of the passage. His face flushed and his eyes widened a bit, before he closed the book abruptly. "Well then...I think that we should seek out a private alcove for this to be decoded, Ronald. I don't fancy the thought of any of these strangers passing by and glancing over my shoulder whilst I am trying to find something coherent in this madness."

"...Something dirty on that page?" Ronald smirked, eyeing the slight flush to the man's cheeks, "Man, I've heard of boot fetishes, but hat fetishes? That's just awkward if you ask me." He stood up and looked around, "Maybe we could sign out use of one of those rooms?" he pointed.

William looked in that direction and he nodded. "Excellent idea. Let's go to the librarian's desk and arrange that, then."

He got up and he tucked the book under his arm as he approached the man sitting at the cataloguing desk. He made the request, explained who they were and he showed them his Dispatch identification. It took a little while for the librarian to clear it, but after a few moments on his computer he gave the nod and handed a keycard over to William, explaining that use of the private study rooms were restricted to one hour only. William bit back a sigh and thanked him, wondering if he could find anything of worth in this volume in sixty minutes.

Once he and Ronald were in the study room, William sat down in one of the cushy chairs and opened the book again, flipping back to where he'd left off. "Either this man is a substantial pervert, or this is all nonsensical babble that randomly appeared in this life book."

He grimaced a little as he went back to the passage that had so disturbed him. "There is a reference to him sniffing hair...and then it falls into complete gibberish again for the next five years...save some vague accounts of research. After that...well...after that..."

William became uncomfortable again and he cleared his throat.

"Man, I wish I could help read it." Ron muttered, cradling his chin in his palm, "I might be better at the dirty stuff. It'd be like being a student overhearing things in the common rooms all over again."

He sighed and leaned back in his chair, "Maybe try just skimming over it for like, anything that sounds suspicious. Like mentions of Undertaker, or locations that seem to be mentioned a lot. Locations that hold importance to the guy might not have been too muddled with nonsense."

William looked down at the book in his hands again and his lips thinned. "Yes well, this entire thing appears suspicious to me. I must take the time to go over the passages that catch my attention. Ronald, would you mind bringing coffee from the machine that I saw in the main lobby? I fear I have some notes to take, and this may become a long night."

One hour simply would not be enough. He would make use of the privacy while he had it, but William suspected he was going to be working on this for much longer than that.

"Sure." Ronald pushed himself up. "Want anything else while I go down there playing errand-boy? Creampuffs? A potato? ...a box of tissues?" he teased at the end, his hand on the door knob.

"Order a pizza," answered William with a smirk. "If you can manage that here, then I'll make certain you get a promotion and bonus pay when we return home."

"Somehow order a pizza in German. Got it." Ronald muttered, trying to think of how to achieve such a feat. Maybe he'd get lucky and the pizza guy would speak English or Italian? He might as well try that first before getting the coffee. It wouldn't do to deliver cold coffee to William who was trying to do very important work for their investigation. He was of little help to this step and he didn't want to disappoint on simple coffee-runs.

It took him a few tries at different pizza places, but finally, he found one that happened to have an Italian cook on staff who was able to take his call and order. Then he finally made up William's requested coffee, and a tea for himself before heading back to the private room they had use of.

"Pizza's on it's way." he said, setting Will's drink on the table for him and sitting down across from him on the plush chair.

William looked up from the tome he was reading and he blinked, suspecting a prank. "You must be joking, surely."

"Nope. Pizza sounded good." Ronald shrugged, "And there is no rules against food in the library as long as we don't leave a mess, so why not?"

William's brows lifted. He honestly hadn't expected for Ronald to find anyplace that served or delivered pizza in this part of the world—let alone anywhere that he could interpret on his own. The blond was being so nonchalant about it, which made William continue to wonder if he was pranking him.

"Well done then," he finally said.

He reached for his coffee and he took a sip before resuming his earlier work with translating what little made sense of the life book. He tried to be conversational with his younger companion as he mulled over it and made notes, but he wasn't the most chatty reaper. Within the hour, a librarian came knocking on the door asking if they'd ordered a pizza. William was again amazed that his partner had procured one, and he thanked the librarian and got up to pay for the order when the delivery man stepped in. Fortunately, it came with napkins and he was able to conduct his research further without creating too much of a mess.

They were prompted to leave the study room shortly after the pizza arrived, and William chose a desk in the back of the main part of the library so that they would have at least partial privacy as he continued. It went on through the night, until Ronald fell asleep with his head cushioned in his folded arms. Unbeknownst to the comatose blond, William got up twice more to get coffee as he continued to plow through it. It was near sunrise when the Dispatch supervisor gently shook his companion awake and explained to him that he'd gotten all he could from the volume, and the two of them returned to their hotel room to crash into an exhausted sleep.

Some of the things William interpreted from the life book were disturbing indeed, but he needed to speak with his former mentor on that and be sure to emphasize that it was mostly his own interpretation.

-To be continued