"Alain? Alain, where are you?!"

At the sound of Sable's voice, Alain knew he'd successfully found his way back through the twisting tunnels underneath the old mill. He slung his shotgun across his front, then cleared his throat.

"I'm down here!" he called. "Don't worry, I'm okay! Just need someone to get me out of this hole!"

As soon as he'd finished speaking, Alain heard Sable take off running towards the sound of his voice. A few seconds later, he watched as she jumped down the hole and joined him in the tunnel.

"Good," she said, looking him up and down. "You're still alive."

"Sable, after what we went through in New Orleans, you should know better than to think a few undead and some wights would be enough to put me down," Alain told her.

"Just saying. It'd be pretty bad if we lost you, considering how you're a third of the business. And speaking about being difficult to put down, we nearly lost you in the swamps that one time."

Alain rolled his eyes. "That was just a bite from a voodoo zombie, not an undead."

"Yeah, and you got lucky that's all it was. Anyway, stand still, I'll get us out of here."

"What are you planning on-"

That was as far as he got before Sable grabbed him by the waist and then jumped, propelling herself several meters up in the air and out of the tunnels. Alain paled as the wind rushed by around him, only for it to pass as soon as it'd arrived when they touched back down on the ground again.

"Simple as that," Sable declared.

"Land…" Alain breathed, falling to all fours. "Oh, sweet, glorious land… how I missed you…"

She rolled her eyes. "Yeah, yeah, I get it. Laugh it up all you want, just remember that I'm in charge of watching your back more often than not."

Alain picked himself up off the ground, dusting himself off as he did so. He grimaced when he saw the state of his clothes; they were covered in dirt, grime, and blood and guts courtesy of the undead he'd put down.

"Eugh…" Alain breathed, letting out a shudder as he did so. "Have I ever told you how much I hate dealing with the undead? Because I really hate dealing with the undead… present company excluded, of course."

Sable just rolled her eyes again.

At that moment, Az came around the corner. Through the darkness, Alain was able to make out that he was just as dirty and grime-covered as the two of them were. Az seemed to notice as well, as he stopped and stared at them for a moment.

"...You both look awful," he volunteered. "No offense, my lady, but it's true."

"What is this, gang up on Sable day?" Sable asked, crossing her arms. "Whatever. Let's just get the hell out of here, get our payment, and then go get clean. I smell like the walking dead."

"You are the walking dead," Alain reminded her.

Sable's only response was to flip him off.

XXX

"I'm sorry, who are you three, again?" the portly, mustached man behind the ornate oaken desk asked.

"We're the three who just solved your little problem with a cult of necromancers down at the old mill," Alain told him.

"Ah." The man paused. "...And what exactly, pray tell, is a necromancer, anyway?"

Alain let out a small, tired sigh, even as he reached into his shirt pocket for a cigarette and a match. This was always the worst part of the job – taking care of something far in advance of it becoming a problem, and then having to haggle with ignorant people about payment for it afterwards.

As much as he hated dealing with the undead, he'd sooner take dealing with another undead incursion over having to debate the value of wiping out a coven of witches with someone who swore up and down that the last of them had been set ablaze at Salem or something.

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Alain pushed that thought from his mind as he lit up his cigarette and took a drag. Once he felt the nicotine flood into his system, he turned back to the mayor.

"Look," he said, "we've been around the block a time or two when it comes to things like this. We can tell when something supernatural is about to become a problem. And, buddy, let me tell you, what was going on at that old mill was about to be a major thorn in your side. You ever hear about what happened at Los Banos a few months back?"

The man thought for a moment, then shook his head. "Can't say I have."

"Exactly, because we were there and we were the ones to clean it up. You didn't hear about it because, in the grand scheme of things, it wasn't that big a deal, especially since New Orleans turned into hell on Earth not even a few weeks after."

"Which we were also at, by the way," Salem chimed in.

"Sure you were," the mayor said, incredulous.

Alain let out another sigh of annoyance. That was part of the issue with haggling – most people refused to believe they were talking with a group who had not only been at New Orleans, but who had helped put a stop to whatever the vampire elder responsible for it had been attempting to do.

Alain still wasn't sure what Elder Owen's plan had been, but at this point, he supposed he was better off not knowing. It didn't matter, in any case; Owen was dead and his plan, whatever it was, seemed to have failed. And aside from a bit of a social upheaval, what with the Veil being lifted and all, things were mostly back to normal, aside from there suddenly being a huge market for what the three of them had to offer.

As it turned out, freelance supernatural bounty hunters didn't exactly grow on trees.

The mayor suddenly leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms.

"Look, I'll level with you both," he offered. "Bandera isn't exactly a wealthy town. We have a few well-off people who live here, in fact from what I recall, you three have already met one of them and pretty much bled him dry in exchange for helping him out a bit."

"He did that to himself," Sable argued. "That fat moron tried to stiff us on our job. What happened after was strictly business."

"I'm sure," the mayor said dryly. "In any case, assuming what you've said is, indeed, true, and that we were about to have a Los Banas on our hands, or whatever you called it… I would need someone to verify you're telling the truth first, and even then, the most I could give you is 200."

Alain's brow furrowed. He exchanged a glance with Sable and Az before looking back at the mayor.

"200, plus room and board for the next few days," Alain said. "We'll take the room and board up front."

"Fine, fine," the mayor said dismissively. "Just… please get out of my office; you three smell like a graveyard."

With that, Alain took another drag from his cigarette, then stood up and motioned for Sable and Az to follow him. They did so, the three of them leaving the mayor's office just as he slammed the door behind them and locked it.

And the moment they were out in the hallway again, Sable rounded on Alain, glaring at him.

"Are you crazy?" she demanded. "We did way more work than what he was paying us for. Between the necromancers, the wights, and the undead you killed, that was at least a 500-dollar job, plus the room and board you asked for."

"I'm inclined to agree," Az said. "I know you prefer to keep your prices low, Alain, but at the same time, there has to be a limit to this sort of thing."

"And there is," Alain specified. "But I wasn't willing to argue about it with him. And besides, I've got a feeling that I might have a lead on something bigger than this job."

That got their attention. They both leaned in expectantly, only for Alain to grunt and shake his head.

"Not here," he said. "We'll talk more at the saloon. And as always, first round's on me."

They both nodded, then the three of them began to walk out of the town hall. Alain stopped only to tip his hat towards a young, terrified-looking secretary at the front desk, who just about fainted when she saw the gore spattered across the three of them, and then they continued on their way.

XXX

"Alright, so start talking," Sable demanded as Alain sat down at the table with their drinks of choice. He'd opted for bourbon again, while she'd gone for her usual expensive wine. Az, meanwhile, had forgone the gin in favor of Irish whiskey.

Why he seemed to have an obsession with European liquors, Alain had no idea. He could only assume it came about from serving Sable.

Shaking that thought from his mind, Alain poured himself a quick shot of bourbon and knocked it back in one go, letting out a content sigh as he felt the alcohol begin to heat him up. With the first one down, he poured a second, though he was careful to just sip at it this time.

"It's simple, really," Alain told the two of them as he nursed his glass. "The way I see it, those necromancers didn't just pop up out of nowhere. They were far too organized to have been a simple fly-by-night operation. Ask me, I think there's something a bit bigger going on with them than we might have initially expected."

"Interesting…" Az mused. "And you have proof of this?"

"Well, just think about it. When's the last time we ran into a cult that big that just appeared out of nowhere?"

"Well, there was that coven of witches-" Sable began.

Alain shook his head, cutting her off. "That was a small coven compared to this, they were only about a dozen strong and they could barely even cast basic spells."

"Says the man who had his hat lit on fire by one of them."

Alain grit his teeth at the memory, but held his tongue. "In any case, that coven only came about because one of them discovered an old text in the library, and given what happened to New Orleans, figured they might as well take it seriously and try it out along with a few friends. That was pretty small-time even compared to this, I think you'll both agree with that."

"So what's your point?" Az questioned.

"My point is this: I don't think these guys stumbled upon this knowledge. Rather, I think that someone deliberately passed it on to them. And I think I know how they did it, too."

Before the others could ask any further questions, Alain reached into his bag and pulled out the book he'd taken from the altar underneath the old mill. As his fingers brushed its flesh-bound cover, those same whispers forced their way to the surface of his mind.

It only lasted for a moment before Az, of all people, snatched the book from his hands.

"Hey!" Alain protested. "What are you-"

He froze when he saw Az staring at the book, his eyes wide with what appeared to be shock. For all the situations the three of them had been in already, Alain was struggling to remember a time when he'd seen Az shocked about something. Maybe during the incident at New Orleans, but even that was a strong maybe.

This, though? This was definite as it got. Something about that book had Az worried, that was for sure.

Alain didn't get a chance to ask, however; Az hurriedly stood up, still staring at the book.

And then, before either Alain or Sable could do anything to stop him, he moved over to the burning fireplace and tossed the book inside.