Newton Some Light Reading

[Jules Durand]

Jules stepped out of the office, turning and flipping a small out to lunch sign before turning his key and locking the door. The day was overcast and it muted the sunlight touching the back of his head, yet even then he felt the slight tingle of the sun's rays attempting to interfere with the natural shroud of necromantic energies that sustained him. Running his hand through his short hair, Jules shrugged off the feeling and walked away from his new small office in the Business District. He hadn't been in Easthaven long but so far he was enjoying it, the town was a nice mix of modern and older aesthetics, not as old as he tended to judge things by but that wasn't a fair way to judge things. Walking briskly along, he let his eyes trail from shop to shop without any real purpose while his mind also wondered. Every now and then he would pause and mumble to himself or scribble something down in a small black notebook before continuing his walk.

His little sign on his office said out to lunch, but Jules didn't really need to eat so that was a lie. He lied a lot. Par for the course, a strange saying he'd recently learned but hadn't figured out the origins of, when you were one of the living dead trying to run a mostly legitimate business.

As the clip of his shoes against the sidewalk resounded in his ears, forming a discordant harmony with the cars and beeps and general background noise that modern cities naturally built up, his pace came to an abrupt halt. He went still, a kind of still only possible when you were dead. A kind of still that came with none of the small subtle movements a true and proper man naturally carried with him. Slowly turning his head Jules spied a second hand book store and a wide smile split his face. He loved books.

Turning and walking in, Jules eyes widened a bit in childish delight at the sight of the used books on shelves. He took in a slow deep breath through his nose, forcing his lungs to expand and contract despite their lack of need to typically do so. It was like stretching after holding still for a very long time, slightly uncomfortable but satisfying in the end. He held out a hand and lightly brushed his fingers against the spine of one book before gently trailing his touch across several more as he walked down the shelf. Most of the titles he hadn't heard of, which wasn't that surprising. No one could read everything and most his life had been spent in isolation-

• Jules was in a dark room with only the light from a dirty glass orb to guide his hands. Long skeletal fingers stretched out, his left hand was missing two fingers but still moved with deft purpose, as he continued to draw circles and scribbles on the parchment in front of him. He'd been experimenting with new lines lately and though his ink was no known language he worked hard to perfect it. Jules had done this little ritual seventeen, no no it was twenty four now, times and each time he slightly adjusted the length and angles of his rune work to test the differences such changes caused to the energies trapped within the circle. This test was more important than most the others. His last attempt had been a miserable failure... but he couldn't be totally certain it was because of the modified runework or a consequence of his undead nature.That happened sometimes since he'd shed his mortality, horrible shame but a minor inconvenience in the end.The failed experiment had ended up blowing off his legs but that was also not particularly troublesome. So long as he had power he would eventually recover. Finishing up his scribbling the mad frenchman began to align several components to insure-

Jules blinked his eyes a couple times to realign himself with the world again. That happened sometimes, flashes back to his past and his experiments. He frowned as he tried to remember if that test the seventeenth of twenty-fourth, whichever it had been, had been a success or not but the memories slipped from his grasp like sand. He shrugged off the curiosity and refocused himself on the books in front of him. He sat a finger on the top of one rather battered looking book as he pulled it from the shelf and began flipping through it. The topic wasn't very interesting nor something Jules wanted to explore. What it was however, was filled with handwritten notes by whoever owned it before. That was far more interesting to Jules than anything else. His eyes glanced at the pages as he let himself become more and more absorbed in the find, forgetting to fake breathing for anyone watching and losing track of his surroundings.

[Henrii Crowley]

The door hit the bell, which rang. It made Henri turn around from the bookshelf. What the store owner saw was a tall, gaunt, middle-aged customer with the eyes of a child. The eyes told what Henri liked. The customer was pleased to see the second-hand books.

"Hello," Henrii greeted the fellow. The customer had not heard him at first; it seemed the man was caught staring at a collection of books, and Henrii did not think that was correct. The man seemed to be dazed off; he blinked his eyes, and that was strange but not unheard of.

The owner placed his hands together, rubbed them together to make them warm with friction, and offered his hand to the fellow who had some a lawyer business stance to him. "Welcome; how can I be a service," he introduced himself a second try. (I wish I paid more attention to the world around me to recognize this person had signs of being undead.)

The vampire had always tried to avoid looking at the neck for a bloodl main vein cause the hunger was always stirring in his heart. (Vampire's heart is its stomach) Today. Henrii was wearing a red velvet vest, with a white shirt and black pants with shiny shoes on his feet. He had a fancy gothic appearance for a second-hand bookseller. The owner was about in his thirties, and an older vampire will notice the aged eyes don't match the age of the flesh. Henrii was old as America herself. From what he knows, he is the first American Vampire, and he thinks his kind does not exist in America. There were supernaturals he knew about, which made him more concerned. There was Max's run-in with the Jehovah's Witness, who decided to leave threats and toss holy water at him. Max caught it and kept it, and left. They seemed to be some hunters who were trying to scare him. He had not made the connection they belonged to his past from New York and Post Civil War era. So many things Henrii was unaware of and aware of. That was why he had this Rebel about him. As the colonists refuse to give up on the Queen and her army in the Revolution War. He was part of American History, and not many people know, except Washington D.C and The Exchange, got the information on Henry because of the link to the Rat King.

[Jules Durand]

Jules placed the little book back on the shelf and turned as someone approached him, Jules reminded himself of a few things to do when meeting new people. He began a small series of motions that would make it look like he was breathing and just in general more alive. He could force his lungs to actually work like he had earlier but in truth that was honestly more work than just faking it. Strange considering when he was alive these had all been automatic functions of his body. The new man held out a hand to greet Jules and the lich was more than familiar with the practice of greeting.

Jules reached out his own hand, cold though not icy, and shook it. The lich naturally used both hands to shake with his second placed over the two gripping hands. It was a small power move he'd learned in law school that implied social superiority. He'd started doing it because it would let him rip off a person's hand if they needed to be silenced quickly and it had sense become something of a habit.

Jules did have a pulse... of sorts. He was an undead to be sure but he had also grounded himself from his phylactery just a day prior. After drawing from his phylactery he was always at his most alive... or as close as he was ever going to get. His skin was a better color, less thin, and his organs even moved a little. Right now he even had a heartbeat. One beat per minute. That would drop to one every three minutes by the next day and then stop all together in a week. Still, that little bit of motion from the organ was enough to put the color in his cheeks. Not a healthy color but any was better than none at all.

It was the nature of the undead, their form aligning with their expectations. Jules had always thought that grounding himself should put him closer to how he was in life and thus it did.

"You should be careful with statements like that young man, someone might take you up on it." Jules said with a smile. He was trying to be friendly, but his face stayed on that expression for just a beat too long before shifting and he pulled his hands away from the greeting.

"I'm just looking for some light reading material. You would happen to have anything in French would you?" Jules asked nicely. He would love to read a bit in a language that didn't feel like it was mixed together in a laundry machine when he spoke it. English was a fine language sure... but hardly something he enjoyed speaking.

[Henrii Crowley]

The handshake from Jules had the hair of Henrii's neck go up. The man was something of a powerhouse Politician or a high-ranking officer. It was hard to miss the two-hand shake played as a powerful technique. He even had seemed Lawyers done at the Courthouse helping their clients and wishing them a well for being free. Cause Henrii had to track them down cause when they got to their home, he could not enter unless they invited him in. He does not do it much these days, but he does it once a while cause their blood is more satisfying when he plays vengeance on their freedom. They lost the GPS anklet when Henrii could play with them. It wasn't a good thing to do, but it was his way of seeing Justice. No criminal should be free unless they suffer and die. He decided to play Justice. He sees himself as a good guy, which he is not.

The man had a few inches on Henrii, but he laid his dark brown eyes on the man. He showed he was not afraid of him, like when he ran into a few politicians, lawyers, and mobs in the past. The one he had never forgotten was Whitey Bulger, an Irish Mob Leader. (Reader, that is another story for another time). Henrii did have control of his hunger, and he knew that this man was old and living with poor blood circulation.

The service advice was good, and his people would tell Henrii he accidentally said that which got him in a pickle with the Government cause they tricked him into it. Even if Henrii did say 'service', they would have him do those human bombings as his 'criminal service' from the Civil War days. What Henrii did was something he should not do. He had created undying vampires to help the Dead Rabbits to fight the other gang. Word got out. And they had him be in the army to go to Manhattan to control the gang riots, which had not paid for his crime. So they had Henrii continue 'government service' on call. It was his life sentence instead of being locked up.

"Yes. You are right," he replied. "My poor choice of words, and I shall be thankful for your kindness not to abuse it." The other fellow could run with it and put Henrii in the Oath of Vows which Henrii has no clue about because he was made by his master, who just left him. He placed his other hand on the man and squeezed his hands back, saying -you not going to push me around, buddy- handshake reply. Then he pulled his hand away after the Lich did. Henrii had no clue that this customer was an undying, very old one. Possibly, he met a few and never noticed them.

Henrii had a smug smile. "Matter of fact, I do. Allow me to show you," he had always had the customer behind him as he walked toward the shelves. "We got a mix of Canadian French and French. French," he shared. "Vous parlez français couramment?" Henrii spoke with an accent and miss prounounce a little. There was at least 40 books in French. Most of them are students from College who came from France. There was a few which could be rare to find which was on the shelf.

[*You speak French fluent?]

[Jules Durand]

Jules paid little attention to the powerful reply in shaking hands. He'd learned it but sometimes the more subtle ebb and flow of social ques escaped him. Had he been an undying geared toward more physical acts he may have picked up on any number of small physical clues about Henrii, much the way Henrii had noted his poor blood circulation, but that was far from Jules' bailiwick. He had supernaturally sharp senses but they did little against the mundane. Had a spirit been floating around, traces of arcane work, or any real necromanic power been in the area Jules would have been alerted swiftly.

As it was he saw the bookstore owner as a friendly young man running a quaint little shop. When he noted the lapse in speech the man thanked him and asked that he not abuse the statement. Jules chuckled to himself, his smile wide and a small gap visible in his teeth. "You give me too much credit, I' wouldn't even know what to ask for." He said brushing the whole thing off, though technically not saying he wouldn't abuse the offer. No one played word games like the fey or a lawyer.

Asking about French books Jules was pleased to learn that there was in fact an assortment available. The man even asked if Jules was fluent. "Je suis. Je suis né en Gascogne." (I am. I was born in Gascony.) Jules looked at the books and immediately skipped over the student ones for the more thin collection of rare books. As he looked he asked another question, again speaking in the beautiful flowery language of his homeland. "Pardonnez l'étrange demande, mais est-ce que l'une d'entre elles concerne l'occultisme par hasard?" (Pardon the odd request, but do any of them relate to the occult by any chance?) It was wonderful to speak and hear proper French once more.

[Henrii Crowley]

*Henrii is speaking in French.

Henrii honestly had no occult books in stock, and he had his collection in his library. The shopper would notice there are no religious books in his store. There could be a rumor that two customers unhappy with that selection are not to be found at this store. The two had tried to sell religious relics and were kicked out for unfairness and discrimination, which they declared. They belong to the 'Rat King Society,' It was a setup on Henrii, and he had no clue about it.

"No. I am sorry. I don't," he said slowly. He was taken aback that this was becoming more common than usual over the past week. He crossed his arms, then placed his right hand under his chin and tilted his head as he eyed the man. "That is light reading for you? Hmm."  He could not help showing that he was finding this customer a bit off. Could this be someone with those two trouble makers who came to cause trouble, he thought. "You can leave your name, number, or email, and I can contact you if I receive any occult books. If it is in French, you will be the first person I contact. For other occult books. They seem to be in demand."

Henrii had to look at the man from head to toe and back to head. "Oh. Glascany? I had never been there. I was in Paris for a short visit. Bustling city. I wished I could stay longer," he shared. Well, it was a long time ago. "Glascany. . . Sorry, where is that in Paris?" His attention was on the man, for he was curious about where he was from.

Yes. Henrii was enjoying speaking French with this man. There was a time where he had some difficulty with the French Canadians with their thick accents. They appear in Fall and Winter.

[Jules Durand]

[*Jules also speaking in French]

Jules was a tad sad to head no books on the occult but then noticed, tucked away in the student books, some of sociology. He smiled to himself as he let his fingers dance over the spines looking for one that might pique his interest.

The bookstore owner asked of occult works were light reading for him and Jules just laughed it off. "I did say it was an odd request. At my age war and peace is light reading. Anything less is just something to do before bed." Jules mentioned. He hadn't actually read war and peace, but he'd heard it referenced as a bit of a slog to read and used it in conversation where appropriate.

He also didn't sleep but no need to point that out. Henrii mentioned leaving some information behind if anything came in and Jules pulled a hand from his pocket with a thick white business card. The thin black lettering proclaimed his name, Jules Durand, and his profession as a lawyer. Along side these was a number and an email. His cellphone, wonderful technology, and office line where one and the same so it was easy enough to gove away.

When Henrii asked about Gascony the lich was more than happy to answer. "Gascony isn't in Paris. It's actually a few hours away. Beautiful countryside." Jules said. His eyes seemed to look elsewhere as he thought of his home. Though the scenery now and from when he was a biy was very different.

[Henrii Crowley]

As a shop owner, it was not rare to see customers disappointed that they couldn't find their first chosen item. That would make it too easy, and life was never made easy. One could make choices: the easy one or the hard way. Then a few a made their paths—the middle.

"War and Peace," Henrii said, rubbing the stubble on his chin. Then he quoted a verse. Lord knows he can't read or speak anything about God, Jesus, Holy Spirit, or any religious resources. He read a book that sore his eyes and fought with his wits to read it. "Here I am alive, and it's not my fault, so I have to try and get by as best I can without hurting anybody until death takes over." He was good with memory cause he read books repeatedly at times. That is why he was in the business, and he had survived his missions in Germany, where he started to hoard books and steal books from the Nazi army.

Henrii took the business card and gave it a look-see to judge its card quality. That had explained the handshake. He was a stinking lawyer. "Hmm. Which side are you on? The good or the bad?" This was an excellent ice breaker. Who knows what use a lawyer can be used by Henrii. He had his network, but another can't hurt. He could have his people look this lawyer up. He need to know who this lawyer is for the future purpose he could be on the good side or bad side or neutral.

Henrii cringed in pain at the dumb mistake he had made. "Yes. Of course," he blushed from his own mistake. "When did I think Paris was her own country. Like saying Cape Cod is its own country," he shrugged his shoulders. "And they should be," he shared. "They don't like big corporations to be there. All small and family business is there. No Walmarts. No Targets. The last time I knew, K-Mart was still there. And they suppose to be all gone. I don't think Amazon is allowed there too."

Then he went back to looking at the business card. "Well, to be fair, you can call me Henrii...oh better off, here have one of my cards," he walked to the desk with an iPad for the screen for the register; he placed the card near it and grabbed one of his own business cards which said, "Save the Books."

[Jules Durand]

Jules perused the books, so many little options in so many letters. The shop owner seemed to settle on the phrase war and peace and then spoke lines from the book. However Jules had never read the book, and the lines struck a bit too close to home. Not realizing that the shop owner was just reciting, and instead thinking he was being coy with something much more dangerous... Jules turned to look at the man while going very very still. He didn't bother moving his chest to fake breathing or even blink. Instead he watched Henrii, his hand still raised with his finger lightly grazing the spine of his next book.

The thoughts through Jules' head were of blood, and murder, and bone.

Few people realized how difficult it could be to snap a neck. Films, the wonderful moving pictures industry that had cropped up sometime in the last few hundred years, all made it look like a simple twist of the head. It wasn't. More likely to paralyze a man than kill him that way. The real trick to properly snapping a neck was to raise the head when you twisted it. Pull and twist. Not always easy, but not impossible.

With his arm raised, Jules could maybe close line the man, getting his arm around his neck and then walking a few feet to make the angle easier. Then it was just a sharp motion and no more suspicious shop keep. That didn't change the fact that cameras likely saw him enter the shop and he would be leaving fingerprints all around. So very annoying.

Before Jules could contemplate more the conversation shifted and flowed to the next bit. Is he not going to do anything about it? Hmm, interesting... The lich thought to himself, still confusing the quote for someone having discovered that he was an undead.

When the man looked at his card and then asked what side Jules was on, it seemed obvious that this was a question about his own state with the excuse of law as a cover! Clearly! Ah word games, so that was how it was going to be. Jules smiled thinly as he spoke "You don't get to be where I am by walking with angels. But I like to think I do a bit of good here and there." he said, more referencing the lives he sacrificed to his phylactery than any courtroom work he did.

They talked a bit about Paris and Jules assumed that the interrogation about his unlife was over, so he went back to faking his breath and blinking a bit more. What an odd shop keep, the lich would need to investigate this man a bit now. When Henrii introduced himself and offered a business card of his own Jules happily took it. He pulled a small black notebook from his breast pocket and quickly wrote down a note before sliding the card into the book. Jules would forget this entire conversation later if he didn't write down the important bits.

[Henrii Crowley]

Henrii felt a cold chill like someone walking on his grave when Jules visualized close lining him and wanted to snap his neck. There was that window where Henrii mirrored the stare back at the Lich.

The Lich mentioned angels. The undying Vampire pursed his lips—angels like those civilians who don't obey the law. "I sometimes think our justice is broken, and we are too easy on them," he stated. Henrii is a vampire who used to go in the night to drink blood from criminals and rapists, and once in a while, he drank blood from fallen soldiers on the battlefield. Henrii was far from being innocent, and he had enough blood on his undying spirit to have over a hundred years of a life sentence if he was ever put on trial.

Every man and woman grows on seeing the world how they want to see it. You can go through life saying that the devil is god and the only one. You can even make occult and have followers to go wherever you go, and they will worship you until death. That is why criminals in prisons can be a waste of great minds. They sit in their bunks at night, surviving from other cellmates, running thoughts repeatedly, and wonder how to use every inch of material in jail to their advantage. They build criminal smarts and say the 'big houses' are more wealthy than some high-class folk. Now imagine taking the thought process of a criminal to make improvements in a better life in the light; that is what happens when you are locked up. You can think a lot, and most times, solitary, they go nuts.

A small part of Henrii had slightly glanced at Jule's chest cause he swore he saw the man was not breathing a second ago. That could be his imagination.

"True," Henrii said. Hitler thought he was doing good too. When you indeed come down to it. Henrii will admit evil lives in everyone. Well, there was no way he could ever investigate that Jesus had had evil in him. (Reader, in my life, before being a Vampire, I was a devotee to the man who bore stripes, scarred to unrecognizable, and placed on the cross for our Hope and Sins. A life I will never see again.) He even can't mention that Jesus was the defender against the prosecutor. Where a man can murder, and Jesus will claim that murder to come to Jesus, and he will be washed clean and go to his right side. He rubbed the right side of his temple and just slightly thought of religion. "Every person deserves a fair trial. That is what makes America great. You're innocent until you are proven guilty. We got a sound system where we got jurors system."

The Patriotic Vampire had a smug smile as he stood proud; the man loved his country even if it had plenty of flaws. He was there when she was birthing to be who she is today.

Henrii felt he had some connection with this Lich, good or bad, and he could not place his finger on it. He was fascinated by the man, and he spoke French too.

"Allow me to give you time and space to browse," Henrii told the customer. The store was not his primary resource for Finance, and it was more a front. Saving books was his passion, and he could not keep them all, and that was why they had had a store to sell them.

*The American Flag can be seen hung high in the window of his store, That should be one of the first things people would notice as they entered. Henrii takes much pride in the American flag.

[Jules Durand]

When Henrii mentioned the innocent until proven guilty bit to Jules the man broken into a wide smile. He loved that saying. He'd built so many cases entirely around that famous little script. It was complete nonsense of course. People didn't want to see the good in each other, they didn't want to give the benefit of the doubt. They were just as bloodthirsty here in modern America as they were back in 14th century France. The only difference was that you could stay at home on your couch now to watch a man be judged. Far nicer than going to a town square to see someone hung or beheaded or beaten to death.

"That may be true in the court of law, but the real problem is the court of public opinion. That is where you see what people really are." Jules mused, still assuming Henrii had suspicions of what the lich really was. Such a strange game to play.

Maybe times were more civilized, since back in Jules time someone would have pulled out a sword by now and started sounding for one mob or another.

Henrii offered Jules time to browse and the lich nodded as the other man left.

Jules continued to glance through the books but as he did so he started to work power. The act was easy enough, he just reached into his own natural necromantic field of energy. The energy came to his call with ease and after some mental hoops to direct it the lich sent out a small invisible wave of energy. The power expanded out with Jules at its center and swept through the store then just outside the store to the other side of the street. The goal was actually rather harmless, at least for the moment, as the undead man wanted to find a corpse. Nothing big, just a rat or bird. Cities were rife with them and he expected the sewers underneath the street were his best bet. In fact he was right as there was a dead rat in the sewers just below a manhole cover. Had everything gone as he expected he would have animated it and then forced it to follow Henrii so he could find where the man lived.

But something else happened too.

Jules sensed another corpse. A much bigger corpse. Turning his head the lich looked straight at Henrii again, finally seeing him in a new light as well. A walking talking corpse. Jules wondered if the man had used a similar spell to locate Jules, still not realizing he had misunderstood a book quote, and couldn't stop his smile from stretching his face wide. Turning away again and back at the shelves of books the lawyer began to puzzle his mind trying to decide how best to use this information now that they were finally playing on equal footing.

Jules Cinder roll casting a Necromancy spell. (4/13/22 1:08pm)
6d6: 6 + 4 + 3 + 6 + 4 + 3
2d6: 6 + 1
1d6: 2

5 passes - Exceptional Success!

[Henrii Crowley]

"True. " Henrii replied with a crooked smile, "To each man to his own shoes." Henrii knew each person had choices in life, and a choice can make you good or bad. Henrii knew you could not fully understand who the person is until you lived their experience. Even a cruel man can be gentle like a kitten.

A small whisp touched Henrii's skin, which made him lift his head as something amiss. He smiled back to Jules once again. The man seemed to be an interesting sort and he was from France, and he had enjoyed conversing in French with Jules was refreshing. He had wondered what made this man come to America. Every person was a book, a story to tell; Henrii saw each person. He had wondered if Jules appreciates the great arts? He does not seem to have the wit for classical books. Henrii had to admit something was attractive about this man cause he was unsure what it was. Something was tugging that Henrii wanted to touch his fingers to explore a new chapter and explore it. Then the necromancer did look away. He chuckled a little.

Henrii slid the drawer open to see what needed to be done. Again, things were all in order. He was considering what he was going to do tonight. Was he planning to go home and look over his estate or pour over some new books he kept for himself? He kept plenty of rare books in his deepest tomb; some were near his hibernation chamber. There were books from all around the world, and he had a great collection. There was a great collection of religious books his people kept watch. He could not go not near the location. Will rip him apart.

Henrii had developed a Religious Trauma Syndrom. He truly believes God, with Lord Jesus, had closed doors of him ever being saved. Speaking, reading, and hearing harm him like a mental wound. It is all in his mind. Like an actor truly believes they are sick and become sick. That is how serious it is for Henrii. It is reversible if he finds someone to lead him there, but how many psychologists in supernatural can help the society they live in.

[Jules Durand]

Jules pulled three books off the shelves. A book on sociology, a book on acting, and finally a book on history. All in French. How to talk to people, how to fool people, and the many years behind the world. Stepping away from the shelves and then walking over toward Henrii, Jules smiled sweetly. Which for him wasn't particularly sweet. His smile more a razor sharp knife against his thin skin. The lich stepped up and carefully laid down each book starting with history, then acting, and finally sociology. He sat them each side by side in parallel spacing. "I think I would like to take these with me." the Frenchman said in crisp English. After fishing through his pocket for a second he pulled a black metal credit card for Henrii to swipe for payment.

"I have very much enjoyed talking with you, Monsieur" Jules smiled, taking his books once the card was approved.

Setting them under his arm, and turning to walk away from the shop. A smile still sly on his face he anticipated the next few seconds as no matter what happened it would be interesting. He made sure he was near the door, the light just within reach that he may weaken himself or Henrii should think turn to blows. His hand stretching out to the door he turned back and spoke with careful precise tones. "If you ever need a lawyer please don't hesitate to call. Us cadavres errants have to stick together." (Wandering corpses) as Jules said it he casually opened the door and let the sunlight wash in toward the shop.

His skin prickled at the touch of light and the necromantic energies that kept him animated naturally started to buzz up against the sun. He could survive in the light but not all undying could. It would be odd to run a shop if you couldn't handle a little sun.. .but even then it was still a weakening effect. The universe despised the wandering dead after all.

[Henrii Crowley]

Henrii eyes stared down to see the History, Sociology, and Acting books, all fine good books. The owner had not judged his customers on the books they buy. He had a section on Japanese Anime graphic novels, which were considered books. Books were filled with stories, essays, and thoughts that people placed on the pages. Without books, the world would not be where it is today.

Henrii eyes spotted the black, exclusive sleek credit card that had nothing on the front, and he could not see the backside. He did pull out the credit card reader for the man to slide the card in. The credit card was like proof Jules was a man of wealth.

Henrii had offered a bag, but Jules had declined as he tucked the books under his arm. "Good readings. I will call you if I come across occult French books," he told the man. He then placed the card reader back inside the drawer behind the counter.

"I have very much enjoyed talking with you, Monsieur"

Henrii nodded his head. "I too. I will hope to see you soon," he told the undying. He smiled, feeling a weight in the room shift to heavy.

"If you ever need a lawyer please don't hesitate to call. Us cadavres errants have to stick together."

A lawyer deliberately had the light shine more in the store, and he was unsure why he did it. Most customers hold the door enough for someone to come in, but the fellow had it wide, making Henrii cover his eyes with his arm. The sun's bright light slightly shunned his eyes, and he quickly pulled his arms to protect his vampire's eyes. The sun does burn his sensitive eyes.

Henrii's eyes widened what the undying said. His mouth opened, and he was shocked. He grabbed his sunglasses and placed them on as he quickly went to the door, opened it poked half of his body to see the man walk around the corner. The guy was able to walk in the daylight with no glasses. He was awed by the power of the undying. He was a Frenchman Undying, but he was not aware he was a necromancer because he only believed that Vampires existed. He had not met any other undying supernaturals, and his knowledge was small. He knew things, but his understanding could be much better. His supernatural ability protected him from the sun, which took some grounding down.

He pulled himself in, closed the door, turned the sign to close, locked the door, walked into the store, and sat down in the chair. Like Loius in Interview Of The Vampire, he was stunned to find other Vampires. He was going to contact him again. Then he sat there, running the scene in his head. The man seemed a little off, which made Henrii's gut was giving warning signs that this might not be the wisest choice to contact him. The other part of his mind was like a kid. DO IT! He pulled his hand under his chin, and placed his elbow on the arm of the chair as he was thinking.

There was no way he would call him and say, hey can we meet. No. There had to be an excellent damn plan and layout for good or harmful situations. They can learn from each other. Then there is the price of sharing. Then his mind went to his ancient book collection. He has a few rare books that could be used as a peace offer. Then what if this 'Undying' will use that as an opportunity to get him cornered for his purpose. He had not wanted to be pigeonholed. After all, he was a pigeon being held by the Federal government. Deep down in his soul, he knew he would go down that rabbit hole and truly needed to think in and out.

"Damn," he said to the empty store.

Then a thought came to his mind. Federal Government knows more, and he had wondered how much more they know. Of course, they cover things so thick that he would never have the power to get one slip on the Federal Government. And if he did. He is locked up and tossed in a cell; they feed him to keep him alive forever and not see a soul. He fell into depression cause he knew he was cursed and there was nothing he could do. He will need to find a way to rekindle his thoughts to want to live and fight for another day, in which he will be thinking about America and what it means to him. If the FEDERAL calls on him to do a bombing in the middle east, he will undoubtedly wish he is dead, and his will to live will force him to get back together. 

Then his heart darkened of the one who robbed him of natural death. He had not covered one clue and then he wondered about Jules. Would Jules know? There was much to gain and things to lose.