"Az!" Alain protested. "What the hell-"

That was as far as he made it into his statement, as a loud, high-pitched wailing suddenly filled the entire saloon. The other patrons jumped at the noise, while Alain and Sable tensed. It only took a moment for him to realize where it was coming from.

The book itself was screaming, somehow. As it continued to bellow its death shriek, somehow the room began to grow colder as the light seemed to be sucked away, leaving only a dark blue hue to the saloon.

Alain's hand fell to the grip of one of his revolvers, and he had to hold himself back from drawing and putting a bullet through what was left of the book, just to shut it up. He grit his teeth as the noise continued for a few more seconds, eventually reaching a crescendo before finally tapering off as the book finished burning.

And then, just like that, it was over. The book was no more, save for a small pile of ashes atop the burning logs in the fireplace. Az, for his part, seemed satisfied with what he'd done, and wiped his hands together before making his way back to the table, sitting down, and draining half his bottle of Irish whiskey in one go. Alain, meanwhile, could only stare at him in complete disbelief.

"What the fuck was that about?" he demanded.

Az offered no answer to him, and instead continued to sit there and drink his Irish whiskey straight from the bottle. Alain stared at him once more before turning to Sable, who cleared throat.

"Az," she offered, "care to explain what we just witnessed?"

"Respectfully, my lady?" Az finally said, turning to her. "No, I would not."

Sable blinked, taken aback. For his part, Alain was confused as well. In all the months he'd known Az and Sable, Az had never been anything short of completely servile to her. That had mellowed out a bit after New Orleans, enough that he would occasionally offer a point-of-view contrary to hers or otherwise serve as the voice of reason in their group of three, but he'd never outright refused to do something Sable had asked of him.

And that had Alain spooked.

He wasn't the only one, either, if the way Sable was staring at Az was any indication. Alain was about to say something when she cut him off.

"How serious is this?" she questioned, keeping her voice low enough that the other patrons couldn't hear her.

Az simply shrugged. "It depends on how many of those books are out there. If it's just a few of them, then it isn't serious at all. But if there are more than that…"

"Can you at least tell us what we're dealing with?" Alain asked.

Az gave him a small grunt, then shook his head. "Respectfully, Alain, some things are better left dead and buried. Those books are one of them."

"There a reason for that?"

"Indeed, though trust me, you're better off not knowing what it is."

"O-kay," Sable interjected. "From the sound of things, Alain might have been on the right track, then. Whatever's going on with that book, we should definitely do something about it."

"The trouble is, we don't know where to even start," Alain reminded her. "I doubt those cultists left anything particularly incriminating in the book, and even if they did, it's now little more than a pile of ash in the fireplace, so there's no way we're getting anything out of it unless one of you happens to know a necromancy ritual that can resurrect a dead book or something. So we're back at square one."

"Not necessarily," Az reminded him. "The butcher's boy might know a thing or two about it. He said that a bunch of men in robes were the ones to induct them all into the field of necromancy, yes? Perhaps he'd be able to tell us where they came from."

"It's worth a short, at least," Alain admitted. "Okay… first thing in the morning, we stop by the butcher's place and talk to Adam, see if he can't shed some light on what's been going on. But first…"

Alain turned his gaze back to his glass of whiskey. Without a moment of hesitation, he picked it up and downed it in one go. Across from him, Sable and Az did the same with their liquors of choice.

Whatever they were getting into now, something told Alain that there wasn't enough booze in the world to drown out his anxiety about it.

XXX

That night, Alain came stumbling back to his room, bursting through the door as he did so before slamming it behind him and leaning against it, a low sigh escaping from him. After a moment, he peeled himself off the door, then began to walk over to the bed, swaying from side to side as he did so. His head swam the entire time, and his throat felt like he'd just swallowed a mouthful of sand, but he didn't care.

Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon.

The hangover was going to be absolute hell, but even then, getting drunk had been worth it. Whatever Az was refusing to talk to him and Sable about, he could only assume it was something suitably bad.

Alain shook those thoughts from his head, instead kicking off his boots and removing his hat, which he set on the nearby bedside table. Next came his belt, along with the two revolvers holstered on either side of it. As his hand brushed against the one on the left side of the belt, Alain couldn't help but pause and stare at the gun, his reflection staring back through the polished nickel finish.

This gun had belonged to his friend, Felix. They'd met in Los Banos; Felix had been the bartender at a local tavern there when the mayor had unleashed an undead incursion on the town. Him and Felix had ended up fighting side-by-side together, and after the incursion had been successfully dealt with, they'd ended up sticking together.

Of course, only one of them had made it out of New Orleans.

Alain let out a small, wistful sigh as he tore his gaze away from the revolver, then set it on the nightstand thanks to its twin. Now unarmed, he stretched his arms out above his head, groaning as he did so, before beginning to unbutton his shirt in preparation for going to bed.

He didn't get far before a knock at the door interrupted him, followed by a familiar voice.

"Alain? It's me. Can you open up?"

"Give me a moment, Sable," Alain called back as he stood up and made his way to the door, taking care to grab one of his revolvers, just in case.

He trusted Sable and Az implicitly at this point, of course, but if his new line of work had taught him anything, it was that it paid to be cautious more often then not. The last thing he needed was to open the door and find someone was impersonating her or something.

Thankfully, as he opened the door, Alain was quickly able to tell that it was just her. Still, that didn't change the fact that he was surprised to see her here by herself.

"Sable," he greeted. After a moment, he peered out into the hallway, looking around. "Is Az out there somewhere?"

"No," she reported. "May I come in?"

"I don't know. I thought I wasn't supposed to invite vampires in."

She glared at him, and he blinked. "Tough crowd tonight, I see."

Without another word, she pushed her way past him, then entered his room and took a seat on his bed before letting out a tired sigh and staring up at the ceiling. Alain looked at her, unsure of what to do.

"Alright, now I'm really confused," he admitted as he closed the door. "What's going on, Sable?"

"Like you even need to ask," she replied. "I'm worried about what Az isn't telling us, that's all."

"You're not the only one." Alain set his revolver back on the nightstand, then took a seat on the bed next to her. "I've never known the big man to be that guarded and confrontational about something. Whatever's got him riled up about that book, it must be pretty serious."

"But then there's what he said earlier," she reminded him. "About how it wouldn't be that bad if there were only a few of those books floating around."

"Sable, you of all people ought to know by now that we as a group collectively attract bad tidings," Alain pointed out. "If there's a chance this thing could get really bad, then I wouldn't bet against it actually happening to us. Maybe not on the same level as what happened in New Orleans, but another Los Banos probably isn't out of the question."

"You really think so?"

"I think it's worth at least preparing for the possibility. Of course, that doesn't explain why Az is acting so strange all of a sudden. That, I can't explain, nor can do I think we can properly prepare for it, either. We're just going to have to take it as it comes."

Sable fell silent at that. For a few seconds, she didn't say anything, until finally she turned to him again.

"I never told you about how Az and I met," she said.

Slowly, Alain shook his head. "You didn't, at least not the full story. All I know is that you finally woke up after being staked, and then you took him on as your servant."

"That's the abridged version, yes. The full version… I did wake up in my coffin after having been staked, because like I said, the vampire hunter who tried to kill me did a very shit job of it. I finally crawled out of my coffin a few hundred years later, fully regenerated and eager to take on the world. But in order to do that, I needed a servant, and so… I summoned one."

Alain stared at her in confusion. "You… summoned Az?"

"I did," she confirmed with a nod. "You remember that my family was a powerful clan, yes? We have access to certain knowledge that others in the area do not. Part of that knowledge includes the ability to conduct a ritual to summon a servant."

"Summon them from where?"

"The underworld."

Alain's eyes just about bugged out of his skull. He hadn't had much experience with the underworld aside from the little taste of it he'd encountered a few months ago, but that had been enough for several lifetimes. And now Sable was telling him that, this entire time, he'd been working with someone who'd been called out from its depths.

"I know what you're thinking," she said, getting his attention. "But Az is bound to serve me. And even if he wasn't, he doesn't strike me as the type to spend his newfound freedom going on a rampage and dragging people down with him."

Alain hesitated for a moment, unsure of what to ask in light of this new information. After a moment, he finally settled on something that seemed appropriate.

"Sable… what is he, exactly?"

"Truthfully? I have no idea," she said. "And that's me being completely honest. He's never told me; I don't know if he simply doesn't want to or if he can't, for some reason. Whatever the case is, I suspect that I'm better off not knowing, and so I've never tried to pry too deeply into it. Instead, I take it all at face value – denizen of the underworld or not, Az has been nothing but helpful to me, and therefore, I think he deserves the benefit of the doubt. Wouldn't you agree?"

"Of course," Alain said. "But at the same time, it is worrisome."

"I know, but there's not really anything to be done about it." Sable let out a small sigh. "Anyway, I just wanted to speak with you a bit before you fell asleep, if only to reassure myself that things aren't actually that bad."

"Sable, you know what our line of work is like. Things aren't usually this bad… they're worse."

"I suppose so." She rose up from her spot at the end of his bed, then gave him a nod. "Sleep well, Alain. I'll see you in the morning."

"You as well, Sable. Good night."

With that, she turned and left the room, gently closing the door behind her as she went. Alain watched her go, then let out a slow exhale before collapsing against the bed.

He wasn't sure what the future held as of yet, but hopefully speaking to the butcher's son again would help shed some light on what was happening.