Chapter Text
Darcy Graves finally had some time to herself again, between everything her parents took her to do, the anxiety in the city after the ritual, and her studies at Blackmore, she had finally carved out an afternoon to do what she used to do before she found her master. She finally had time to speak to the dead and just vent. For the last month, it felt like every person she looked up to was pulling her in 17 directions. Between her teachers, her master, and her parents, she’s been so busy that she could barely start on her college applications. That being said, Dynamo's connections in the academic world - not to mention her family name - made it really easy to get accepted anywhere she would've liked to go, but that didn't change the fact that she was overwhelmed.
When she finally made it to her usual spot, she spread out a blanket next to a mausoleum, throwing down her bag, taking out her teacher, and the tome. She took it off Abrams during the ritual after being told that it was important by the hand, trusting that it would be of use to her and her master. Sadly, she wasn't able to get her hands on that Fairfax guy's briefcase, but surely with whatever was in this, she could find a way to take it soon. Once she had sat down and began thumbing through the tome, she felt her teacher twitch on the ground, and in her mind.
'Well done dear, you managed to get my tome back... please... put it in my palm and I can explain what I needed this for...' Graves felt a pang of unease as Seven's words rang in her ears. she though about what he told her about mentors and she felt a flash of rebellion, a feeling she hadn't felt toward her teacher until now. "Why not tell me first?" A reasonable question, but it was far more pushback than she had previously given towards her teacher.
'Because it is mine, dear child, returning things to their owners is morally correct, especially when they've been stolen. Give. It. To. Me.' she growled in her mind. In that moment, she felt her head ache and pound; it scared her. It was supposed to scare her, but she knew that. She thought for some reason that it would be a bad idea to give this book over. She fanned the ember of rebellion into a roaring flame. "Tell me what it will do and I will... please. I want to help you just as much as the other dead. I want to help, but with everything I've heard about you... I just want a little bit of assurance." Graves explained, hoping that this would get the genuine truth out of her teacher, but she felt afraid about what her teacher would do with it.
'Fine... it will let me gain my strength back, it will let me teach you more of what you need to know by showing you instead of just telling you. Give it to me' her voice was a lot calmer, but in a way that felt disingenuous, like she was containing her rage instead of actually being calm. Despite that, Graves still felt compelled. Satisfied with the answer, she placed the tome in her master's hand, and her stomach twisted almost immediately.
Rotten looking meat began to grow down the emaciated hand as bones shot down, mingling in a new elbow before shooting up into the shoulder, expanding to make the rest of the chest, draping down into the ribs and knitting into a spine, the skull snaps into place with a clack of teeth on teeth, the other arm grows downward and the pelvis is formed. The legs slowly creep downward as the focus of the procedure changes, as muscle grows and creeps like worms over the bones, followed by skin flying on that looks like fake leather being peeled played in reverse. The visceral sight makes Graves even more queasy than she already was. Graves unconsciously clutched her bag and, rising to her feet slowly over her master, "Good girl, thank you. Now," she growled through her new vocal cords as she floated up, landing on her feet just as they finished forming. "I believe we are done for now. If I have further use of you, I'll call. until then, leave me."
Graves felt the color drain from her face as she looked up, gazing into her cold blue eyes and taught face. "Wait... I thought you were going to teach me more? I thought that was the deal?" She felt a fear enter her heart, the mistake sinking in... how was she so foolish?
The Lich laughed darkly, "Oh, you poor dumb thing... why on earth would I, a lich, ever teach you anything if it wasn't going to benefit me?" Graves realized that everyone was right... she was in too deep, the lich was using her, she needed to run. She staggered backwards, and The Lich smiled, "Go on, run along, little pet, you'll be called upon if you're needed, otherwise... stay out of my way." Graves turned on the spot and ran.
...
Graves was afraid. Running through the city, she bumps shoulders with people she doesn’t know. She isn’t consciously moving anywhere, but something spoke to her soul, guiding her feet while her head pounded until she found herself standing in front of a place she’d never been before, a place she’d never heard good things about until recently. Her parents talked about what was happening inside, a den of sin, they had said over the dinner table, but when she came up in front of it, she let out a deep sigh when she saw Infernus.
“Graves, it’s been a minute, how you been living?” he asks nearly automatically, as he would anyone who comes by before the sight of her sinks in. Her palms and knees were muddy, her mascara and eyeshadow was running down her face, and she was panting up a storm.
“Whoa… what happened to you, private school?” he asked while she was doubled over outside Jezebel's, still panting.
Once she catches her breath, she finally meets his eyes and says, “I think I fucked up… Really bad.”
...
“Wait, wait, wait. You brought a lich back to life and came to me?” Infernus asked bluntly, after she caught her breath, he invited her inside to sit and talk for a moment. Graves took a sip of water (it was the only nonalcoholic drink in the house) and sighed.
“I wasn’t really thinking, I just ran and ended up here.” The words dribbled out of her mouth as the adrenaline from the confrontation with her mas- her teacher slowly fell off, and she felt the exhaustion begin piling onto her. “I didn’t know what to do, I think what you said during the ritual came up in my subconscious, and I just… ran here.”
“Isn’t that like 7 blocks?” he questioned, shocked that the kid didn’t pass out, or worse, on the way here. “I think it was the adrenaline,” she postured, “but honestly, I have no idea how I didn’t fall over.” Infernus leaned over the bar, looking at her bag before he asked. “Didn’t that Sandman give you a business card to contact her?” Graves perked up, thinking back about where the card was, realizing that she still hadn’t cleaned out her bag, so it was probably still sitting in the bottom of it somewhere. She pulled the bag onto the bar and began pulling things out of it. She thumbed past her various folders and notebooks, and — she internally sighed, knowing everyone was right — the script for the play they were putting on, and eventually found the card, crumpled and folded in half with some piece of scrap paper from physics. “Do you guys have a phone around here?”
...
“And I’m currently sitting at Jezebel’s.” Graves had just finished explaining the whole situation to Haze. There was an uncomfortable silence before her choked whisper of a voice rasped through the receiver, “Damn it. I should’ve been more insistent about being in touch. Who all currently knows?” she asked, “Just Infernus, you, and me. Though Abrams surely realizes the tome is missing… and has probably been looking for me. Honestly, it's kind of surprising he hasn’t found me if so.” Graves confessed, letting out a sigh she didn’t realize she had been holding in. Why hadn’t the detective found her? He was a good guy; he was just in the wrong place at the wrong time with the wrong item.
“The detective most likely is glad to be rid of the burden that book carried; the way he talked about it makes it seem like it was really important to a lot of people, the OSIC least of all.” Haze let out a sigh herself. “Give me a little to make some calls to the Baxter Society, and we’ll see about getting some people together to take care of this. We’re probably going to need your knowledge of necromancy and her to deal with this. I should be at Jezebel’s in… 30 minutes? Perhaps with Shiv in tow, we'll have to see if the Baxter Society feels like being cooperative today.” Graves took a deep breath, realizing that she really was in way over her head. "Okay... I'll try to call anybody else who could help... do- do you think I should tell my parents?" Infernus turned to look at her, raising a concerned eyebrow, silently saying "you weren't going to tell them?" Haze's voice crackled through the receiver again, "Did you tell them about the ritual? About The Lich at all?" Graves chewed on her lip as she spoke, "No... but it seems like this is going to be significantly longer of an ordeal than the ritual." Haze rolled it over in her mind before replying, "Tell them after, they deserve to know, but we really don't need you getting grounded or something." "Alright, I'll see you in a few, right?" Graves worried. Haze quickly replied, "Yes, I'll be there as soon as possible, don't you worry."
As Haze hung up, Graves immediately went to dial a number she got during the ritual, but one she memorized a lot faster due to their repeated contact since. Infernus leaned back over the bar after helping some others who came to the pool hall, he had also run up to meet with Hank, telling him that he might need to step out for a bit soon. "So who's next on the call sheet?" Infernus asked, Graves looked up at him with autopilot precision on dialing, "Dynamo, we've talked here and there. I hate to pull him away from Marla, but I feel like even if he can't help us as much as he could with his robot body, his connections as a near 90-year-old professor are surely worth our time." He was surprised at the kid's utilitarian thinking, though he was sure being a necromancer made her a lot more objective about the nature of things. it still made his skin crawl thinking about how she knew about Pier 31... He wanted to leave that part of him behind and just be a bartender, but then here comes this kid dragging it back into the light... it hurt... but he didn't think that she meant to do it, more like it was a spur of the moment reaction, like most of the things they said in the heat of battle during the ritual. He looked at the kid and thought back to how Hank had helped him when he was younger. He was glad to be able to pass it on, to take this wannabe raven under his wing. It felt right to help her. This was part of how he redeemed himself.