Note: I will never update this soon again. Please don't expect it. I hope this got to you on time, Ulcaasi.
Downstairs and Dead
Chapter Two
The Secret Strangler
The princess had, in fact, given them a whole lot of rooms. Laxus looked around as Lucy ducked into a door on the right-hand side while gesturing to a door across the very large, very warm, very well-appointed room and proclaiming it his.
"Put your things down, and come back out when you're ready. I'm going to go order some food, but I'll leave the folder on the table. I looked at the reports this afternoon when the princess called me, so I've already seen the basics."
"Can't we just … call up for food? Ring a silver bell? A gold bell." Laxus figured a place with rooms like this should have that sort of service.
"Of course," she popped back out, "but there's no need to bother anyone for that. I'll run down to the kitchens and grab a few things from the night staff without having to worry anyone for deliveries. Faster this way, too."
"If you say so."
"I do," she nodded, and left the … he supposed it was a suite?
Dumping his travel pack in his room made him shudder. The place was absurdly opulent for what was just a place for a guest to sleep. It didn't suit him, and he didn't suit it. He quickly backed out and returned to the common room to pick up the folder Lucy had left.
He sat down – god, at least it was a comfortable chair, if unnecessarily patterned with swirls and swoops of prickling metallic thread that probably was made of real gold and silver – and began to look through the pages.
The folder was thick for a reason. It was divided into sections. There would be a blue page marked with a name, a date, and a location. After that was a page titled a report of incident, which Laxus thought was a bullshit way of calling the list of nightmarish shit he saw written there on the first one, which he quickly turned... and then instantly regretted.
Because then there were pictures. Pictures after pictures after pictures.
He almost called up his magic, scorching the room with his instinctual reaction. Barely, he kept control, but it was a close thing. He wanted to throw the thing into the fire. He wanted to rip it to shreds.
This was the job. This was the job, and Lucy – fucking Lucy – had already gone through it all.
The room, the folder remained undamaged.
He flipped through almost a hundred photos – not reading the reports with them yet, just the photos – and tried to judge their prey by studying them.
"What do you think?" he asked Lucy, finally. She had returned when he was about halfway through the stack, a spirit he didn't recognize following behind her with a large covered tray in hand, but Laxus hadn't been able to eat the food she put in front of him. She didn't say anything about his lack of appetite.
She'd already seen the photos. She'd understand. He wouldn't have to say a word, and she'd understand.
"He's controlled. I don't know much about killers, but he's been doing this in each household for three years without getting caught. When I first heard, that didn't seem like a lot, but on the other hand, it does. Especially when you think about last year. They knew it happened two years in a row, surely they suspected it could happen again. Surely each house did something to prepare. And yet, in every house there was a murder, just like the year before."
"Yeah."
"So. Controlled enough to not make mistakes. Three years; eighteen victims; steady, unchanging weapon-of-choice in the clothing tourniquet – underwear and a spoon. Obviously, he's killed before this, somewhere, some when that was sloppy and less controlled. I asked the princess to have someone search for records of other similar tourniquets used in murders outside of the house killings. This is not, cannot be a young man. At the very least you must be 16 to join the balls, which means he's at least 19. Doesn't do much, but it's a number, a line. A defining criteria. I would say older, because of the learning period, but I won't take chances. And I have Crux going through what few records I do have to see if there are any men we can know were away – say on business, or at royal events – and thus automatically not suspect."
"Helpful."
"Yeah," she smiled, a small, dim excuse for an expression. "Yeah, I thought so."
"Anything else?"
"He doesn't," she cleared her throat, and he knew what was coming. He nodded in agreement. She didn't have to say a word. He understood. Didn't have to say a word, but she finished the thought anyway. "He doesn't rape them all. I don't know what it means, but it is notable."
"I agree."
She fiddled with the keys on her hip. "What about you?"
"Bloodless, but extremely brutal. When the letter mentioned a serial killer who strangled his victims, I thought that was it, but all of the broken bones... That takes time, privacy, and a shitload of planning."
"Yeah."
Don't have to say it. Don't have to say it. Don't have to say it.
"The underwear? I, um, uh," he coughed.
"Yeah."
"Is it just that it's, that they're there?"
Lucy bit her lip and reached out for the folder, turning to one of the earlier victims. "She was found in the stairway closer to the attic than the kitchens. Still the underwear and the spoon. I think it has a specific meaning, that spoon, and the underwear. It's not just convenience. Yes, usually they're close to serving areas where spoons and other such things can be found, but... and the underwear, that... I think that's shaming. To die like that... it's not just a loss of control, but... I..."
He understood.
She understood.
His eyes followed her hands as they fluttered from the folder to her keys and back, over and over again. "What's with the posing?'
"No one seems to know. They don't appear to be modeled after anything, statues or art. But certainly the body positions are unnatural. Some of the breaking is for that purpose."
"Ah," he reached for the folder, looked back through the photos, and saw that she was right. "Fuck."
"Yeah."
He put the folder aside. "Why me?"
"I said-"
"To the princess, but she's gone. Why me?"
"You... okay. Okay. I'll need protection you can provide. Other guilds... I just don't... I can't..." she shook her head. "I just can't. I just can't. Even if I could find Natsu or Gray – which I can't – they aren't suited for society. The only strong men left to escort me are Gajeel – same argument – Elfman – again – Bickslow – need it be said? – Freed, and you. Between you and Freed, you're better known, better with women, and have a dragon slayer's gifts. At least, I assume you have the heightened smell and hearing. I chose you based on those reasons."
"Freed's smart."
"I'm smart," she countered, "and I'm getting us in the door. Two Fairy... ex Fairy Tail mages stand out enough. Three or four, if he brought Evergreen as a partner, would be too many, too much. This killer is smart, Laxus. Only the fact that the guild is down, and I would naturally be looking for some way to survive and make money, like rebuilding my father's empire, excuses my entrance back into a place so many know I find annoying. I am desperate, Laxus, and people know that. Perhaps you are, too; perhaps you are leeching off of me, or we are using one another, but that falls apart if we start moving around with half of the guild in tow.
"Beyond that," Lucy sighed, "the families are all concerned with keeping this secret. If we start spreading it around, they'll come after us."
"You're sure it's one of the rich guys."
"Because of the rape, I don't think it's a woman, though there are ways..." he could tell she didn't want to discuss those ways. Neither did he.
He slouched, wrinkling his nose and trying to think, while very much not wanting to think. Trying to catch up with something he'd rather not have anything to do with. "I din't mean women, exactly," he mumbled. "What about the servants. These people have to take butlers or protection or people to do their hair and shine their fancy-ass shoes, right?"
"Well, yes. But the princess and I actually already discussed that angle. First, we believe that if they could blame it on a servant, they would have. Much easier to have the murder solved, even if it meant to falsely imprison. Problem is, there's obviously magic involved in the murders, and so few servants have their own personal magic or have access to bought magic of any strength. Too expensive."
"Obviously magic involved?"
"You said it yourself," she waved a lazy hand at the folder. "Brutal but bloodless. Not a single broken bone, not matter how severe, how sharp, broke the skin. Not a fingerprint left behind. Not a single scrap of skin under a fingernail. No fluids. Nothing. There's magic in that, somewhere. But even discounting the magic, bodyguards are rotated fairly frequently. Though we don't have perfect information, most families have had no steady guard through the last three years. As for the body servants, most families have several, and they'll rotate throughout the season. Even if they've had the same three maids in the household, they only keep one with them on tour, but probably trade them out. While the family is away, that's when their servants are given their yearly vacation time, generally one to two weeks. No one servant would travel the whole six week circuit."
"So it is one of the sons or fathers."
"Or grandfathers."
"Wealthy assholes," he grumbled.
"Entitled," she added.
He flexed his fists and cracked his knuckles. "They're not going to take well to being spied on from the inside."
"Nope."
"Another reason for the bodyguard."
"You got it."
"So. When do we start?"
"Now. We start now." She leaned back in her chair, trying to relax from the more stressful posture discussion of the murders and guild had called up in her. "I learned, even before the Games gala party, that a surprising number of guild members know basic social dances like the simple waltz. You...?"
He grunted.
"From caveman speak, I'm going to translate that as meaning yes. Any others?"
"No."
"Fine. You're good on your feet. You'll learn fast. Real problem is just the sheer size of you. I'll teach you, but I'll allow you to opt out of the dances that benefit from partners being similar in height. Which rule I'm sure you'll appreciate."
"There are dances like that?"
She grunted, and followed it up with a small smirk. He glared. She almost laughed. Almost.
"A few. They are strongest when the dancers are connected at the knees and hips. The lead takes long, full strides, and a woman too much shorter than her male lead would fumble. A more experienced pair on a good floor with good shoes could shift the female's shorter step back into a slide, but that's not a move amateurs could pull off. It is not good for a young woman to be seen as without grace on the ballroom floor; you might as well use the time more wisely by speaking with other men."
"Making nice with the rich assholes."
"It will make them feel powerful to speak with you, Laxus. Never doubt, they will believe themselves better than you, as you are common, rough, and comparatively poor." She grinned, "But, as I've already said, you are also physically powerful, and even from a male perspective, attractive."
He slouched in his ugly chair, "Not really who I wanna be attractive to."
Again, she almost laughed. Again, she didn't. "Want or don't want, it's true." She shrugged. "Then, of course, there are the group dances, which call for – generally – an 8 to 16 beat move before switching partners. At least the modern ones do. I remember the most popular when I was going was much faster, with a hand off after every fourth."
"Sounds awful."
"No," and for the first time since they left the princess, she did actually laugh. And for the first time since he reconnected with her, the laugh was real, "they were wonderful. The group dances are the only joy... for me, they are the only feeling of joy I have connected to my memories of society. It was hard not to get swept up – pun unintended – by the energy of such a dance. And the rapid partner changes discourage conversation as well as making lingering touches impossible. Benefit after benefit."
When she put it that way...
No. Still sounded awful.
"I attended a gala held by His Majesty and Her Highness last weekend in preparation. I know the modern dances well enough to teach them to you. So that is handled. Now. Onto manners. As I said, both men and women will respond to your gruff aloofness in their own positive ways, but certain things like using honorifics, showing some level of respect to elders, knowing proper table etiquette..."
"I know how to eat."
"I'm not saying how to eat, I'm saying the rules and regulations of the high-class table. They're absurdly stupid and complicated. If you know them, good. If you don't, no judgment. I wish I didn't."
He grunted again, clearly unhappy.
"I know this part will be hardest for you, but I do ask that you try. I'm not asking you to be perfect or suave, just that you don't talk to our host's grandmother like you do your own grandfather, and not to eat like Natsu or Elfman. Don't make an absolute fool of us, and we'll survive."
"This is bullshit," he muttered.
"So you said."
"I have not-"
"Yeah, well, you've thought it loudly and often enough that I've gotten the picture. You think I want to do this? I hate this. Every bit of it. I ran away from that life, if you'll recall, and those pictures," she swallowed and averted her eyes, "terrify me. I hate this, but I don't think the princess is wrong. There are very few mages that come from, but are free of, the power of wealth. Among those few, there are an even smaller number connected with partners both powerful and skilled enough to aid in the hunt. I may be the only one in all of Fiore, in fact.
"So, I stepped up, even though it means stepping back into all of that unwanted drama. To deal with people I dislike, and who dislike me. So, I'm sorry if your exhaustion at having to be vaguely polite to old women is bullshit to you, but either get the hell over it, or I guess just leave. Yes, I chose you. I think you're my best hope for success, but if you're not going to do the work properly, I'm better off going alone."
"The fuck you are. I don't like it, doesn't mean I'm not gunna do it anymore than you." He rolled his shoulders. "I'll manage. What about clothes. Our servants. Stuff like that?"
She nodded, allowing the conversation to move on. "My spirits. We won't have to worry so much about fashion. We'll stand out, but be attractive. Celestial wear is always good looking, but also tough enough to withstand a bit of damage. Plus, it's free. I'll also have Gemini act as my maid... as Lisanna, I think. At the very least, she's unassuming enough, but attractive, if I decide to draw in for information, and aside from Levy, she's probably the smallest female I have copied if I decide to use Gemini as bait."
"Why not Levy, since she is smaller?"
"Stands out more. She's noticeably small. And blue."
"Okay."
"Loke will act as your servant. I don't think he'll be recognized, as it's been eight years since he was on all of the hot-singles lists. Plus, in a pinch he can open his own gate."
"Won't drain you too much? Keeping them open like that?"
The restless hand he kept watching stilled and clutched at her skirt briefly. But only briefly. Only briefly before returning to her keys.
"Assuming you can dress and care for your own needs, I'll only need to let them out in short bursts to prove that we have servants. And if something does happen that they're discovered to be my spirits, it's not ruinous. People know I'm a celestial wizard." She sighed, looking around the opulence of the common room of their royal suite. "I hope we finish this soon."
He agreed wholeheartedly.
She stood up and stretched. Laxus watched her, looking for some sort of change in her. This was someone who was more like Natsu than anyone else he had ever met – near unrestrained joy and optimism, unwavering determination – but she wasn't any longer.
"If you'll let Virgo look you over, she can gather clothing good for say … the next three days. We'll plan that far ahead with clothing so that we don't have so much."
"I'll never need any fancy shit again, so yeah. Any more would just go to waste."
"Never say never, Laxus." She brushed her hand over her hip and pulled a key from the case, "Virgo!"
As Lucy and her spirit discussed clothing, he took a moment to study them both. He remembered the maid spirit from the games and had heard that she was both strong and capable of tunneling, which Laxus thought was weird for a maid spirit. But what did he know? Loke was a lion that had something to do with light, so … yeah.
"Yes, Princess. I can adequately outfit him for your mission." Laxus found the spirit's neutral expression pleasant. She had the barest hint of a smirk, adding a bit of character that matched those crazy chains. It was so like his own (you know, without the chains) that he chuckled. He considered full on laughter, but instead he crossed his arms over his massive chest and looked down at the tiny creature. She was weird, but he thought she suited Lucy.Or a version of Lucy that once existed. In a place before she was here.
"I see your point, Princess. He will be very popular."
"I know, right?!"
"Punishment?"
"No," Lucy said, "just please see to the clothes."
"Of course, Princess." And the pink-haired, chained maid spirit winked at him and dissolved into light.
"Well. That's the first time I've ever seen Virgo take to someone like that. Interesting to know her type, and, of course, continues to both prove my point with the unfortunate side effect of adding more weight to your already huge ego."
"You're forgetting who and what I normally keep company with."
"Point," she acknowledged, likely remembering all of the flowery and over abundant compliments his team pushed on him minute-by-minute. That he was attractive was hardly a secret or hardly unknown to him. "So," she looked from him, to the food, and back to him. "How tired are you? I can give you some basic food stuff. Some basic dance stuff. Or we can do neither and you can sleep. I've no experience with how sick you get on trains and in carriages, so I'm not sure how well I can teach you while we travel..."
He glared at her, "I'll be fine."
"Will you really?"
He continued to glare. "Yes."
"Mmm, truly? Because I heard..."
"Okay, fine. Yes, it will be a problem. Yes, I noticed you got a shit-ton more silverware than anyone would ever need to eat one meal. Yes, you can teach me to fucking eat."
"I can already tell what a gracious student you will be," she said. This smile was soft, and Laxus didn't like it. He liked very little of what he saw in her since entering the castle, but then, he hadn't expected to. He didn't like a whole lot of what he saw every morning in the mirror, either.
"Gracious and me don't live on the same planet."
"No, but let's see if you can manage to live with patient."
He snorted.
"Oh, come on, Laxus. You can be a patient man, if you choose. I've seen you sit in unmoving silence for hours. This is only a hardship if you make it one. Don't be a baby."
"I hate this..." he muttered, for what must have been the hundredth time.
"You sure do whine a lot. Who knew the sexy, broody scowl of one of Fiore's strongest mages was really hiding a sulky infant? Should I message Freed and the others and have them send me some diapers and burping cloths?"
He groaned and covered his face with his hands. "You have no idea how much I wish I could beat that statement out of you."
"I have some idea, I think, based on the fact that you look like you're going to cry. Now, I only have one course here, so it's not like I can show you what a full dining experience will look like until we actually get to our first house, but I've brought all the tableware." She sat on the arm of his chair and patted his thigh in comfort. "Standard placement is to eat going from the outside and move in. Some choices are obvious, for example, the sharpest knives being for meat, while the dullest are for spreads. Large, deep-bowled spoons for soup, extraordinarily small spoons for some sort of delicacy. Most desserts are served after the meals are finished, often with their own fork or spoon."
"What's with the mini trident?" he asked, grateful she'd moved on from humiliating him.
"Fruit."
"Ah."
"Now, to continue..."
Worst...three hours...of his life...
OOOOXOOOO
AN: So, First, of course, thanks to all the folks to reviewed! I want to specially thank those folks who review without accounts (I PM reviewers with accounts). To Invertedkitty, I hope this lives up to the feel of the first chapter! And to Ebbie, I hope you enjoy the update!
I will say, a lot of the Laxus I'm basing this chapter on is coming from maybe the little silly moments. When he and Makarov are freaking out over Mavis crying, taking Mavis swimming. Trying to threaten people not to mention his motion sickness. That he apparently has no sense of direction (where did that come from?). Maybe a bit of the post-Games punishment wager. I feel like it's sort of OOC, but then I remember he's not always always just a tough guy, bad ass or even emotional guy, like in Tartarus.
My first go with Laxus is just BADASS, so I'm trying my best to make him more complicated than that. Actually, I'm finding Lucy a bit more difficult! She so rarely allows herself down moments. I really hope – spoiler alert if you aren't reading the manga – she lets herself GO on Natsu. She keeps starting with a little and then... neverminding and it's okaying. I get forgiving and moving on, but damn. Give him a piece of your mind, girl!
Once again, feel free to tell me I'm screwing both of these characters up! (But, as always, please don't give me plot suggestions. I know where I'm going with this, no worries.)