It was late at night when the vampire Camuel came to Storybrooke. The city lights shone, and there were still people milling about for late night shopping, or clubbing, or whatever the kine did in modern nights, but none of them gave the cafe and store a second glance, even though the lights were gently shining out of the wide picture windows. After ten minutes of standing in the shadows across from it, Camuel strode across the street, and turned into the alleyway where the door was. Storybrooke was an establishment that catered to the night crowd. The strange crowd. The occult. On the doorway was a number of stickers that obscured the inside. Stickers of colorful flags, most of which seemed to just be stripes. Stickers of fairies and dragons and of the store’s logo, a tome with a sword for a bookmark.. One particularly cute sticker Camuel noticed was a little dracula, holding his cape up dramatically. In the middle, etched into the glass, free of stickers and ostentatiously gilded, were the words

<aside> 📖 STORYBROOKE Est. 1867 Designated Neutral Ground by the Ashcroft Compact Enter a friend and be welcome Enter a foe and be warned

</aside>

“Noted,” Camuel said to the door before opening it. The little bell chimed, but nobody seemed to come forward to greet him, and the cashier’s stand was empty. The front of the store was primarily gaming boxes. The last time Camuel was awake, he’d seen people playing these sort of things. They were very different from the chess or checkers that he’d known centuries ago, and curiously looking at some of the boxes, he saw that even from the last few decades, these novelties had become more complicated. The pieces also seemed to be more detailed. Though looking at the price tag, they had also become far more expensive than they had once been. As he walked around the large central bookshelf, the vampire found himself face to face with an unsettlingly attractive young androgyne. He hadn’t been stealing or planning anything untoward, but something about the youth raised the hackles of Camuel’s Beast. There were Succubi whose beauty was plainer than this sudden retail worker. They were wearing nothing out of the ordinary, just a black button up shirt, short sleeves that showed off long, pale arms, and short pants that showed off long, pale thighs. It had red hair that had been unprofessionally chopped to shoulder length, but somehow it managed an aesthetic hard to come by even in a salon. There was a name tag designating him as Lace, along with (it/he/she/they), though Camuel wasn’t sure what that meant. “Um, hi there,” the youth said, with a smile that mirrored Camuel’s own nervousness, though after mere moments the Beast was already calming down. “Did you need any help, Mister?” Camuel blinked for a moment, stunned at how… normal that seemed. He chose his words carefully, like someone both unaccustomed to the language and attempting tact. “No, I am simply here to speak with someone. I’ve heard she might be able to help me with a problem that I have.” Lace brightened up, and Camuel’s heart might have skipped a beat, if it could still do that “Oh, you must be here for Sabrina!” The strange child then turned around and walked away, not bothering to see if Camuel was following her. Camuel silently followed, and was lead through a hallway between two smaller rooms, one of which had a group of people sitting together with various papers strewn about. It would have looked like some sort of business meeting, had one of the women not been wearing a ruffled blouse and a pair of plastic pointed ears. Dice clattered on the table as they passed. Along the walls were shelves lined with well worn paperbacks, gaming manuals, and occult tomes. A sign written in a neat print said “Sit and read a good book”. In the back of Storybrooke was a café, with diner booths lining the wall and lighting that was more moody, from decorative wall sconces. Smooth music played over the speakers. Even with the people Storybrooke appealed to, this was still deep into the night, and only a few customers sat at the tables and bar. No one was at the host counter, but as Lace lead Camuel in he picked up a menu in a leather frame. Sabrina Granger sat at a half-booth table in a little alcove next to the bar, drinking a coffee and intently reading a paperback. The rumors about her were true. She wore a silk peasant blouse that showed off her shallow cleavage, a black skirt, and a pointed black cap with a wide brim. Most in the modern world who had been touched by the occult attempted to blend in to varying degrees, but here this woman was as ostentatious as could be and dressed like a witch. She even wore long black and orange striped stockings. “Um.” Lace said, and Sabrina looked up. “Miss Sabrina? This man wanted to… oh, I’m so sorry!” the youth’s cheeks turned red as it got flustered, “Mister, I forgot to ask what your name is.” “Camuel,” he chuckled, and offered a hand. After a beat of just looking at it, Lace took his hand. Camuel wasn’t even as dark as some of the moors he had met, but Lace’s milky, doll-like complexion made him look like midnight in comparison. “Yes, hello, Mister Camuel. Um, this is Miss Sabrina, and she can probably help you with whatever you need, she’s really good at that.” And with that, Lace turned around again and headed off. Sabrina gave Camuel a little nod, and gestured to the chair opposite her. “Have a seat, and we’ll see what I can do. Don’t get many of your type here. Tall, dark, a couple centuries dead.” “Ah, you are familiar with what I am, then?” Camuel was unfazed, and in fact pleasantly surprised. “I can tell, yeah,” she said with a shrug, “I didn’t kill any of your friends lately, did I?” Camuel tilted his head slightly. “No, I am unaware of any of my acquaintances meeting their end recently. Why, have you sent anyone to Final Death recently?” “No one who didn’t deserve it,” Sabrina said with a smile, tracing a little cross over her chest. “Swear.” “As the young one said, my name is Camuel, and I bear you no ill will, if that is your conc—” he cut himself off as the Beast felt something dangerous approaching, and Sabrina looked over his shoulder. Lace was standing there looking embarrassed, but definitely not dangerous. “Um, sorry, I forgot to give you this,” she said, placing the menu down on the table. It straightened it a bit, so that it was parallel to the edges of the table. “I don’t know if you want to order anything, but I can help you if you do.” “You are very kind, young one, but I am not here for a meal,” he said, laying on just enough vampiric charm to keep him from coming back. “I have had my fill for the night.” Lace looked off to the side, pursed its lips and fidgeted. “Um, okay, but if you do.” This youth was definitely not human if he could resist. “Yes, I will call upon you if I have need, please leave us.” Lace looked back to Sabrina, who nodded. Then it scampered off to the other end of the bar, where another unusually attractive server in a matching uniform was scribbling something down with his face in a frustrated scowl. Lace held her hands behind herself and smiled, shifting back and forth before leaning over to give the white haired young man a kiss. He jumped in surprise a little, face red, and then after glancing to the kitchen pulled Lace in by the tie for a longer kiss. “Those two are so cute together,” Sabrina said with a chuckle. “Lace is learning.” Camuel turned back, sure that they would no longer be bothered. “Learning?” She waved the question off, “how to be human. But then again, aren’t we all?” Camuel cocked an eyebrow. “Yes. Well. I have someone that I would like to speak with, and I believe your specific talents would be of great use to me.” “You wanna talk to a dead guy?” she asked. “What I would like is for you to take me into the Underworld.” Sabrina finally put her novel down instead of simply keeping her thumb in the page. She kept the spine up. On the front cover were two women with a castle in the distance. One was dressed in a gauzy dress, while the other was wearing masculine noble’s clothes. She held the other woman by the waist, thrusting into her chest with a sword, but the framing of it was romantic, and the two were kissing. “Oh, I can do that, but playing Virgil isn’t cheap. And the deeper we go, the more dangerous it is. If you want to get back to the Green, it’ll cost you.” “Yes, I am well aware,” Camuel said, reaching into his crisp and new looking satchel to take out a bundle wrapped in dirty white cloth, which he began to unwrap. “But I have things I need to find. My Avus disappeared several decades ago, but I recently received a package containing this journal.” He revealed a little book with a leather cover folded over itself, wrapped a few times around with a cord. He carefully pushed it forward to Sabrina. There was a title pressed into the leather. “Meditations Upon Death and the Underworld.” Sabrina read, despite the strange language it was written in. “Tiresias.” She snorted, “Vampires sure love taking on ostentatious symbolic names.” “Yes, you are right, Sabrina Granger,” Camuel said with a slight smile. Sabrina rolled her eyes, and opened the journal. The language inside was similar, but Camuel knew that it was Tiresias’ handwriting. “it’s cute when I do it. Besides, Archie isn’t ostentatious. Do you know what this writing is?” Camuel nodded. “Lingua Mortis.” “Is that French?” she asked, turning the pages. Camuel paused, stunned by the ignorance. “Latin, actually.” She gave a dismissive wave. “I went to public school. Besides, Gravedigger’s Cant sounds cooler.” “This is intriguing to you, then?” Sabrina nodded, unfolding a larger piece of paper that was folded and paperclipped to the rest of the journal. It was a map. There were several like it, as well as sketches of strange creatures. “Your Tiresias was mapping out Dead Dominions. There’s descriptions of Kerberos in here, Rivers, the Old Laws. Hell, even the payment for some of the Irkalla Gates. Some of this is downstairs from Ashcroft. Is this where he was last?” “I believe this to be his last location in the mortal realms, yes.” She flipped back to the beginning to read something. “And you said that he’s been gone about a decade? When did you last see him?” “It was some time during your Clinton administration, if that helps with the date.” Sabrina looked up at him blankly. “That was over thirty years ago, dude.” Camuel bowed his head in apology. “Ah. Time is nebulous when you have experienced as much of it as I have, and sleep for many years. Regardless, in those years after my training was complete, Tiresias had become obsessed with the Underworld and sought to learn it’s secrets.” “Huh, no interest in it before?” Sabrina asked, looking up from the journal. “Nominative determinism at work, I guess.” Camuel blinked. “Come again?” Sabrina winced, “sorry, uh, his name. Tiresias. He was a Greek prophet. In the Odyssey, he—” “Ah, yes. He was found in the Underworld and gave Odysseus advice.” The corner of his lip turned upward and his eyes got a sparkle, as if remembering an in-joke. “The name was chosen for different reasons. But regardless, I would like for you to help find my Avus.” “You want me to play tour guide and find a missing vampire? That’s…” Sabrina said, taking off her hat and running a hand through her hair. She winced as her finger got caught and she gently tugged until it slide through the rest of the way. “That’s a pretty tall ask.” “Yes. I am aware of the risks, and will make sure that it is worth your trouble.” He gestured to the journal. “May I?” Sabrina passed it back to him, “Knock yourself out, it’s yours anyway.” She clicked her fingers, producing a little flame, and used it to heat her coffee. “My Avus had something in his possession that I feel will be of interest to someone of your particulars.” Camuel flipped through the pages until he found what he was looking for, and then turned the book around to Sabrina. “I do not believe it to be the genuine article, but even forgeries can be of occult significance and it seemed to be possessed of some measure of power.” There, on the page, was a diagram of what almost looked to be a short sword. Through the center of it was a shaft, and the blade was wrapped around it with a tight wire. There was a small sliver inset and bound tight in the center. The notes said that it was a nail. And it must have been strong enough to hold a thirty or forty year old man to a piece of wood. Around the blade was a cuff of gold, and inscribed on it were the words LANCEA ET CLAVVS DOMINI. Sabrina choked on her coffee, and did her best not to spray it all over the book. Lace and the young man who’s nametag read Aiden (He/Him) looked up from where they were chatting close together, and stood up. Sabrina waved her hand, and they sat back down, but kept watch a little longer. She cleared her throat a few times, and when she did speak it was in a harsh whisper. “Jesus fucking Christ, that’s supposed to be in Vienna.” “Again, I do not believe it to be the genuine article. But I do believe it had enough spiritual resonance to be worth your time.” Sabrina wiped her mouth with a napkin, thinking carefully. “You’re willing to give me the fucking…” she caught herself, and lowered her voice. “You’re willing to give me the fucking Lance? Does this guy owe you money? Because it better be a fucking lot of it.” “No,” Camuel said, “but I have reasons. There are things I need to say, and things I need to know.” Sabrina thought for a moment, eyes darting around carefully. She kept looking to something Camuel couldn’t see, like someone was standing beside the table. “Okay.” She closed the book, “but if this thing is fake, I want the journal. It’ll be more than enough on it’s own.” “I have already said I do not believe it to be the authentic Spear o—” “Yeah, yeah. Don’t care. I’m talking about the power of it. Death is… death is memory. Emotion. If this thing has enough power to make leech tingle, that’s something.” Camuel narrowed his eyes. “I would prefer it if you did not refer to me as a leech, Miss Granger.” He was stern, and the chill of his voice could have frozen vodka. Sabrina glared back, but let out a breathe. “Sorry, Kindred, then.” Camuel relaxed, and nodded in thanks. “I shall treat you with respect in kind.” Sabrina barely showed it, but she looked like she’d been slapped. He must have touched a nerve. Did she not think vampires were capable of this level of civility, or simply that she wasn’t aware she could be so embarrassed by her own lack of it? She leaned back in her seat, then took out a notebook from the bag beside her and began to scribble. “If you want me to do this, I’m going to need a few things. And you’ll want to bring weapons, provisions, whatever you need. You’re not going to find food, and I don’t want you chewing on my neck. You won’t have to worry about sunlight. There’s going to be spelunking, but Dead Dominions are… weird. It’s not going to be all caves downstairs.” She tore the page from her notebook and handed it to Camuel. “You’re going to get wet. You think you can handle that?” │20 handle finest rum │16 pieces of 8 │2 corpse pref. of bad men │100ft paracord │cremation ash, 2kg │1 white rabbit │2 box cuban cigar │8 bags blood │3 oz opium │silver mirror with box │$2mil, cash only Camuel took the note, and looked it over. He fished a sleek new phone, with no case, out of his pocket and after a moment took a photo of the list. “I am not unaccustomed to ‘roughing it’. I believe I will manage the basic survival aspects, I will only need you for guidance.” Sabrina leaned back and crossed her arms. The way that she sat with the brim of her hat against the seat pushed the front up. “Well, good. But I doubt you’ve been through anything like this before. Meet me at Thomasina Memorial Cemetery in three days.” With a nod, Camuel passed the note back to Sabrina. She pressed her finger into it and it began to burn. “Alright, I shall see you in three days.” “See you then,” Sabrina said, getting up from her seat. “I gotta get some shit ready.” With that, she walked off, using a broom Camuel hadn’t seen as a walking stick. As it tapped against the floor, he couldn’t help but take notice of the way she walked. She was slow, favoring one leg over the other. The broom was more than a simple costume piece, she was using it for support. Camuel turned back to the table, and tilted his head to get a better look at the back cover of that romance novel. He picked it up, and read it over. Some lesbian romance about a princess and her knight and their forbidden love between two stations. Looking at the section Sabrina had been reading, it was very lurid prose, and one of the women seemed to have male genitalia, which was described with terms like “turgid”. There were a lot of onomatopoeia. If he could blush, he would have.

He was drawn back to the present by someone clearing their throat. The young man, Aiden, stood next to the table with a tablet of some kind. Behind him, Lace smiled playfully and leaned to the side to see around Aiden, despite the boy being shorter than it. “She skipped out and left you with the check, huh?” It said, “Miss Sabrina likes to play that trick on her clients.” “Yup. But it’s probably fine,” Aiden said, considerably more annoyed. “Most of you fucks are rich anyway. Cash or charge?” Amused, Camuel retrieved his wallet and instead of complaining he handed each of them a crisp hundred dollar bill. He didn’t even bother looking at the number on the screen. “Shit yeah,” Aiden said, holding the bill up to check for a forgery. “Knew I was right.” “Yay!” Lace said, sniffing the bill instead. “Would the two of you mind answering a few questions?” Camuel asked. “Sure!” Lace cheered. “Nah,” Aiden said, putting a hand over Lace’s mouth. “Thanks for the cash though. Sabrina would rather you find out anything from her, and besides, she likes fucking with peo—Ew! Stop that, Lace,” he added, and pulled away his wet hand from where Lace had licked it. It smiled playfully, and leaned in to kiss Aiden. “I’m sure she won’t mind if we hear what he wants to know.” Placated by the kiss, and clearly trying not to ruin his grumpy demeanor with a smile, Aiden rolled his eyes. “Sure, fine. We’ll hear what you want to ask before telling you to get bent.” “Get bent, get bent!” Lace added in a singsong. “You don’t gotta be so mean, Aiden.” Camuel cleared his throat, and the two young men turned back to him. “I simply want to know how reliable Miss Granger is.” Aiden snorted, “oh, she’s fucking reliable. She’s probably the biggest badass in the city.” Lace clapped, and threw its arms around Aiden, “she’s super cool, and real strong. Did you see how good her arms look? She’ll punch you if you try to hurt her, kapow!” Aiden let out a chuckle and squirmed around to kiss Lace. “Yeah, alright, she’s definitely strong. We aren’t gonna tell you any of her superpowers, though. Strictly confidential.” From across the room, a disheveled man in a torn and faded band tee shirt and red coat called out, “Yo, Aiden, can I get a drink or what?” Aiden rolled his eyes and scowled. “Lace, go take care of that.” Lace kissed Aiden, and went off, a bounce in its step. Camuel could hear Lace talking to the man, who seemed to be in his early thirties. “Hi there, Mr Damien! Aiden says to go fuck yourself. But what’ll you order tonight?” “Was there anything else you could tell me about Miss Granger?” Camuel asked, “You say that she’s reliable? You mentioned her powers, you are aware of her work, then?” Aiden snorted, “I’m guessing you want to go to the Underworld? Place gives me the heebies.” “What is it that I should expect?” the vampire asked. “Oh, you know, rivers that wail, ghosts, freaking eldritch horrors.” Despite claiming he didn’t want to talk, Aiden pulled one of the nearby chairs up and sat in it the wrong way, leaning on the back. “Granger has a weird idea of what makes for a good date.” Camuel blinked. “Oh, are you…?” he looked back over to Lace, who was cheerfully talking to Damien. “Pff, what, I can’t fuck more than one person?” The social mores in this decade were certainly rather different than he’d expected, but Camuel had lived through the 60s. “It was simply uncommon to be so casual about such things.” Aiden grinned mischievously, “eh, ain’t like I can get pregnant anymore, and I’m pretty sure there’s nothing I can catch. You gonna give me a lesson on safe sex or something old man?” Camuel cocked his head at that, and looked Aiden over. Really looked him over, and took in his delicate features. Before he could say anything else, the man from before, Damien, called out for Aiden again. The young man rolled his eyes, and grumbled, getting up and pushing the chair back in. “Anyway, just don’t get Granger killed, whatever stupid shit you’re doing down there. Not that it’ll stick.” With that cryptic bit of chiding, Camuel decided to make his leave. He put another hundred on the table, just for good measure, and left, nodding to the man behind the bar as he went.