Titus stood his ground as the earth began to shift and slide below him. The rite was perfect as bones, then sinew, then muscles and finally skin and even clothing began to form into a rather tall but thin man of about sixty or so. Titus had to look up into the shale grey eyes of the undead before him. There were times, back in Iraq when he had to do half a dozen raisings in a night, sleep four hours and report on post for daily work. It made him respect his gift, but even now it surprised him.
"Mr. Knowles, my name is Titus and I have raised you from your sleep. I have someone hear that would like to talk to you. You'll answer they're questions to the best of your ability and then I'll lay you down, back to your green pastures." He spoke calmly and firmly to the undead. He had control over the man but still had to make sure he knew Titus was the one calling the shots. He then looked over to the woman, as old as the man, and a lawyer with a tape recorder going to make sure all the things were recorded and proper. Mr. Knowles worded his will just strangely enough that the bank refused to release his financial earnings to his wife of nearly forty years. So after a long and lengthy process, they got approval to raise the body and here they all stood; a lawyer, an animator, the undead, and a grieving widow. It sounded like the start to a bad joke.
Titus turned to the lawyer and spoke softly as so the widow wouldn't hear. "Make sure that when you ask the questions, they are precise and clear. You can't say anything that may be misinterpretted. Undead are finicky and if they get confused, I might lose control and then that nice shiny suit you got on will be what they bury you in. That ain't a threat, just the cold hard truth, you understand?" The lawyer seemed a bit stricken from the comment but after swallowing what looked like a stone, he nodded and after straightening his perfect navy suit, moved past Titus and began to ask Mr. Knowles his series of questions.
The widow Knowles moved after the lawyer giving a glance to Titus. He gave a nice smile to her which wasn't returned and then went and stood by his stuff. Most older folk didn't respond well to the paranormal. In the south during the Racial tension, the one thing blacks and whites could agree on was burning a witch. Titus didn't know witchcraft, but the ignorant wouldn't have segregated him from the other. He gave a shake to his head and dismissed the thought. He wasn't the bad guy, he never was.
Titus stood idle as the interview went on and finally after twenty minutes or so it was over as quickly as it began. Titus said a few words and made his peace with the undead letting it slide back into it's slumber. The ground appeared as if nothing ever happened, swallowing it's own back to the Earth's bosom. He watched the lawyer drive off with the now rich widow and looked down at the check in his hand from the lawyer. Compared to what the lawyer would probably make in the percentage of the deal, the payment was chicken feed. This was a side gig for Titus though, a way to sate his powers thirst and keep it at bay. He tossed his belongings into the trunk of his Charger and slid out of the cemetery. He still had more appointments and he refused to be late.
Silent was slowly becoming bored with this life. This lie she was constantly molding. This false illusion of normality. She found the constant piles of bills or the paperwork for her businesses painstaking. Since returnin to Nawlins she found herself craving her old self. The one who did what she wanted and drifted in and out of life . blurring the lines of good and bad. More and more she found herself waiting till those around her slept and would sneak out. Leading another life. Tonight was no different. Tonight she waited for the local v dealer. And already he was running late. And Silent felt every second that passed. She would never admit to being a addict but she was needing it more then not to get threw the day. Sighin she would light up the fourth cigarette in the last hour. Letting the harsh smoke fill her lungs. Resting atop the old grave where the Virgin mother stared down at her with accusing eyes, she would roll to her side. And thats when she saw them. How she missed his smell before...A small feral smile curled over her lips. Wounderful...There still some here who she knew. Tri colored hues would dance with amusement while she watched the cryin woman and the zombie for what seemed like hours...Till zombie back in ground and good ol TIT US made his way in her direction. "still playin with the dead are we...Youve improved since last ive seen you." Silent not moving from the shadows of the top of the grave gave her.
It was a subtle motion, not noticed by mundane eyes, but Titus slid a hand over the bulge in his side, and slid the safety off the Para-ordnance. The voice slid up his spine like a familiar chill, though he couldn't as yet place the voice with the face.
"When you've raised the dead a thousand times, it gets a bit easier. The voice sounds familiar but so did the Cheshire cat's" Titus did a slow look around. He thought of letting his ghostly touch slide through the graveyard and find the source, but doing so might wake up things he'd rather not get up. So he stood for a moment and finally turned towards the voice. Figuring out a voice in a cemetery was difficult, what with the grave markers bouncing the sound, but he turned to it with relative ease.
A twitch of a smile tugged at her lips. The hesitation in his voice..The small shiver. it was..It could be intoxicating. "Yet the cheshire had nothing on the Gabberwakki. With its teeth and claws." Rolling off the grave she would exhale the smoke letting it curl around them both. "Yes I would say you would improve...Sad the days of you waking up to many of the zombie puppets you raised were funny." Tilting her head those colorful dread docks would fall to the side. Those bright tri colored hues almost glowed as she looked him over. "Maybe a unwelcomed shade of your past"
"Oh how we circle the same cities." Titus said as he caught a glimpse. It was Silent he thought, but wasn't sure. Eyes watched the movement like a hunter would prey. Not that the roles were reversed. Literally, the wolf circled her prey, but Titus never went down without a fight and was a bit quicker than the rest of the world. Nonetheless he let his guard down a bit. No matter what city he was in the wolves always seemed to like him. Maybe it was his cologne. The image of Bruce Campbell singing Hungry like the Wolf bounced in his head.
" In Iraq, I was raising three or four a night towards the end of my second tour. When you consider I was there for about six years, they add up. I still need blood, but the rituals are easier. So what brings you back here, or did ya ever leave?" He'd refrain from asking what she was doing in a cemetery this late at night, considering she was supernatural and cemeteries had a calming effect on most beings. It was weird.
Never think for a moment his movement to his gun wasnt noticed..It was more along the lines she knew she was faster then him. " So practice makes perfect is what youre saying?" That cigarette was brought to her lips. Oh yes she remembered the young animator. They always seemed to be in the same city time after time. Some times shed ignore the fact..Others shed find a way to torture him..And since Dakota had left a bitter taste in her mouth with any of the death callers seemed like Ol Tits here was in for the latter...Poor bastard. "Pitty you bastards cant raise our dead...I have a few Id love to romp around again" Silent said a bit bitterly. Myc and Vaughn were on the top of her list. Her personal devil n angel.
"They wouldn't be the ones you knew. Oh they'd look like themselves and could retain a bit of memory, but that's it. Dead parrots and all that." He continued to watch her movements. Much like she was thinking, Titus realized that she hardly shown an interest in him but when she did it put a sour taste in his mouth and more paperwork on his desk. Right now it was just friendly banter. "Personally I wouldn't mind raising the guy who taught me to do the rituals. He died before he had a chance to complete the training. I'd like to pick his brain about a few things. Of course, raising an animator is something only fools and psychopaths do."
He kept his hands to his sides as he looked a bit around the cemetery, and then back to Silent. This cemetery was one of the few you could work in at night without much trouble. Some of them the gangs frequented, so the police just let them have some of them. Blue eyes faced the tri-colored hues. He wasn't afraid. He had tangled with bigger things and came out on top (though the hospital bills would dispute that it was a win). This was Silent though, so he assumed he was on good terms with her.
Small talk was boring. Her lip would curl some."Considerin we eat our dead...We dont need death callers...Like ya Tits." The moon hung heavy still in the sky...Callin her and yet Silent still ignoring its call...Angering the beast within. Tri colored hues searched the shadows for Puck. God she needed him. Leaning closer to Titus she smelt it...Under the cheap aftershave and death. It wasnt Silent as much as it was the swamp wolf that smelt her. Alex. Her eyes widening a moment....Before she was quickly advancing on the animator. "Wherre is shhhee." These words came more as a growl then anything
Titus stood calm while he heard the growl. The smell of fresh turned cemetary earth his only scent as he looked towards Silent. "She's at my place. She came stumbling in from the swamp on the north side of Ponchartrain the other night. Dehydrated, malnourished. I offered her a place to stay and she's been there ever since." There was truth in the words as he spoke and no hint of malcontent as he kept his gaze towards Silent.
Titus was no fool, he could since the underlying tone within Silent, so he spoke nothing but the truth. Besides, he had done no wrong, committed no atrocities in at least a week as he faced Silent. Cold pale blue hues was all he offered, all he would give.
