At Home With The Dead: Old Toby's Story

[Kaos Arcanna]

   Tobias Hansen is at home with the dead.

   His home is a tomb. His neighbors are monsters. Lumbering undead, ravenous warwolves, life-stealing vampyri.

   None of them touch him. None of them even so much as threaten him. They know that he plots against them, sending heroes to overturn their every scheme, but still they do not raise a hand against him.

   There is a reason for that.

   He knows that he looks like a young man barely out of his teens. He knows that he is considered handsome—the looks that some of the younger heroines give him when they talk to him tells him that. He assumes that he looks much as he did in his youth—certainly his brother Lars has not changed appreciably in all the decades since their transformation.

   But he does not know for certain.

   I can remember when there was something there when I looked into the mirror, he thinks. I can remember the taste of food, of wine ... of a woman's lips ...

   He frowns slightly. It's best not to think of what he has lost.

   His cellphone rings.

   He still marvels over such gadgets though he does not have Lars' addiction to them. His little brother has always fully embraced the now. Clothing, hairstyles, technology—Lars has always been his guide through Time.

   Granted, he does not always follow Lars' advice—he shudders slightly at the memory of Lars in bellbottoms—but he does listen.

   "Yes, Lars?"

   "Yo, bro. Just wanted to give you a head's up about my plans for tonight."

   "It's a full moon, Lars."
   
   "I know, I know. Don't worry. I'm not planning on inviting some cutie over to my place for a late night snack." Lars pauses, and Tobias can hear the strain in his voice. "I just ... I have to go hunting tonight, Toby. I gotta let it out."

   "I understand. Where will you be hunting?"

   "The docks. There's a 'Dyne shipment coming through. I'll take care of it."

   "Stephanie likes to send young heroes after the Family's shipments."

   "I know. That's why I'm calling you. She needs to steer them clear tonight."

   "Why didn't you call her yourself?"
   
   "Because she won't say no to you."

   He knows this is true. He also knows the reason why, and because of that he seldom asks her for favors. Still, he understands the hunger that drives Lars tonight, so he says, "All right. I'll call her now."

   "Thanks, bro. I know that it's not easy for either of you, but ... look. I know what she means to you. I know what you mean to her. She's a powerful witch, but she's only human, Lars. There are things you should say to each other before—well, before."

   "We had that discussion decades ago, Lars." He's nettled. He can feel his lips curling back, and for once he's grateful for the distance that they have to keep between them. "It's none of your business."

   "Maybe not, but that's never stopped me before, bro." Lars howls with laughter ... but the laughter ends before the howl does. "I gotta go, Toby. I can't keep it in much longer. Go on. Call her now. Please, bro! I have to hunt."

   "All right, brother. Be well. I'll call her now." He hangs up knowing that soon Lars won't be able to understand what he's saying anyway. He dials the number of Strigia's resident witch. "Stephanie, its Tobias."

   "Hello, Toby." The voice is that of an old woman, but he still hears echoes of the young girl that she had once been ... the one that had made him almost forget who he was as a priest ... and what the Council had made him. "What can I do for you, old friend?"

   "Lars ... he's— It's a full moon—"

   "I understand. The docks again?"

   "Yes."

   "All right. For the Puppy's sake I'll steer the heroes away tonight." She laughs. "Tell him that he owes me."

   "As do I, Stephanie. Thank you." He smiles slightly—something that he never does when there are heroes around to see his fangs. "How are you tonight?"

   "I'm fine, Toby. I really am. You should really come visit sometime. It won't hurt you to spend one night away from that blasted tomb, will it?"

   "As long as I'm back before dawn—" He chuckles dryly.

   "I miss you, Toby. I miss our visits. I miss dancing together." Her voice catches slightly. "Do you remember when all the boys used to come to watch me dance? No one would want to see a dried up old woman dance now, would they?"

   "You're not old, Stephanie. To me, you're still a young woman."

   "Liar." She laughs to mask the pain in her voice. "When I was a girl I used to hate the fact that you were the vicar. Now ... now I'm thankful. I'm glad that I didn't spend my youth pining over a man I could never have ..."

   "Stephen was a good man, Stephanie."

   "A good man and a good husband. I loved him dearly, and with all my heart." She pauses again. "Well, almost all my heart."

   "Stephanie—"

   "I have to go now, Toby. Come visit soon. You shouldn't have to spend forever in a graveyard. The living need you too. Good night, Tobias."

   "Good night, Stephanie." He stares at the phone for a long minute after he hangs up, thinking of what had been ... what could have been.

   "Good hunting, Lars. Perhaps tonight—perhaps tonight I should join you."

   And Tobias Hansen smiles and looks over at the monsters in his graveyard. He takes a step towards them.

   And the monsters—the dead things that go bump in the night, the mutated things that howl at the moon, the misshapen things that use darkness as a weapon—do the only thing they can.

   They run for their lives.