VII - RoseRed

Ï Ï Ï
Scratch arrived at the chapter house an hour late and seventy years out of style.
He was a Dragon, ranked and unsworn, with slim ties to the Order. His heart,
it seemed, was in the baser aspects of his Requiem — blood and talk. He wore
it on his sleeve. Scratch came in a ridiculously cut black, but almost green, suit
and a camel hair overcoat. A fedora capped off his fashions and clashed with his
sickly white, filthy flesh. His skin was caked and dry. A wet moth stuck to his
neck near his ear.
“You Price?” he asked as he leaned into the Academy’s dark brown foyer. He
seemed impatient.
“Edward Price, Dedicated Supplicant—“
“Yeah, all right. I’m Scratch. Scholar, Terror, et cetera.” He stepped in and
shut the front door behind him. Outside, rain was splashing down the cellar
stairs and pooling outside the door. “Philosopher says you want to see St.
Anthony’s.”
Price frowned. “That’s right.”
“That you’re looking for ghosts. A haunt.”
“A nest, but I’ll take whatever I get.”
Scratch sniffed. “Yeah you will. Shadow?”
“I’m sorry? I mean, am I—? Yes.”
“You have the sight?”
“I... well, I’m unpracticed. But yes.”
“Guess you’re all set to be disappointed by urban legends, then. Who’s your
mentor?”
Price didn’t want the conversation to go this way now. “Well, the Philosopher
suggested you might be, Scholar.” Scratch just stared at him. Price could
hear the rain rattling outside. “I don’t have a mentor right now.”
“You and me both. Only I don’t really want a student.” Scratch plucked the
moth from his neck and flicked it to the floor.
“I’m just fine without a mentor,” Price lied. He was just fine without Scratch
as a mentor is what he meant.
“Great. Then we’ll just play house for a couple of nights, make the Philosopher
happy and get on with our Requiems. I’ll show the little ropes I know, but
you gotta make me a promise.” Scratch’s yellow-white eyes digging into Price’s
face. The Nosferatu craned his neck forward like a vulture.
Price wanted very badly to avoid promising anything. “What’s that?”
“You don’t ever turn that sight on me. Not ever. I don’t trust that nonsense
and you’d do well to second-guess it, too.”
The were both quiet for a long moment. Finally, Price said, “All right.”
Scratch nodded and opened the door again. “We go now?” Price asked.
“No,” Scratch said, adjusting his fedora. “First we’re gonna buy a recipe.”
6