He's Not Heavy (Louvel)

[Judah Marck]

Judah's impatience was growing to new heights, he'd tried to keep his mind busy with tasks, there were so many, yet he found himself drumming anxiously on the steering wheel as he drove towards the family Manor. He'd already brought over the important items, the things needing discussion and the place had been tidied ready for Louvel to settle in. It was strange to see the old Manor without cobwebs, and dust, without white sheets covering the lush furniture. Judah had been here many times over the years, to delicately run the very tips of his fingers over the large scale family tree that filled majority of the grand ballroom with tiny script. He'd had it added to in places, with permission of the Manor Keeper, working together. It was no great surprise to him that the one now in charge of this place was Louvel, he was better with places, he liked to have his feet on the ground. Very different to Judah, his head in the air, full of thoughts and contemplation, often prattling on excitedly in Lou's ear.

It worked though, between the two of them, there was a respect there and love of course. For everything he was and everything he wasn't, Judah adored his cousin. The man was far more like a brother than a cousin, though people rarely picked them for related at a first glance. Louvel was broader, fair of hair and eyes with a good tan, very much a Cali surfer. Judah was the near spitting image of their grandfather, Gasto, slighter in stature than the great man himself standing at only 5'9". His height was never an issue because Judah was larger than laugh, often wearing a big cheeky smile and sharing his laughter to light up a room. He was at times rather erratic, frantic and very tactile. He'd take hold of Lou, dragging the man around, or gripping his arms and jumping around with excitement at some discovery or other. His moments of quiet contemplation were frequent, but often kept behind closed doors, and accompanied by a fine red wine.

He turned the car around the final bend, driving through the open gates and down the winding path, kicking up the gravel beneath tires. Judah seemed unable to keep still, wiggling around with nervous energy, preparing to pull the taller man into his embrace. It had been a while since they'd been able to sit down together, life had gotten busy for both of them, with inheritances and jobs, adulthood had not been so kind to the schedules. As the car pulled to a stop Judah grew still, overwhelmed suddenly by what this all meant, he and Lou here in this place. They were calling them together, the great and worthy of the lineage, those who might be able to put to rest a rumour, to get to the truth of the matter. Who was Alaric, and more importantly, was it possible he could return? Jude pressed his lips together in a tense smile, trying hard to stop himself from blurting this out.

It wasn't the time. At the Summoning, that is when he would tell them, when he would speak to Gregor and Louvel, when they would try to identify if any of the family could fill the remaining places at the great table. He would bring them together, yes, they would come and he wanted the party to be awe inspiring. He needed Lou, and as the door opened he couldn't help breathing a sigh of relief, the boys were home. Jude bounded up to the front door like an over excited puppy, not even getting a chance to knock before the door swung open. "Brother! We have so much to do..." His arms opened wide, brown leather satchel dropping lightly to the ground as he waited for greeting.

[Louvel von der Marck]

Louvel stood watching out over the grounds from the highest vantage point. The manor stood out and even now he still found the exterior something of a mystery. So much of it he was still discovering even though he had routinely spent his life exploring the inside and out of the place that stood unchanged in the distance. Short stone columns gave way to recessed entrances. Arched impenetrable stone framed the endless ribbon of stained glass windows around the four levels of the family home. The full effect was an apparent influence of southern French, Spanish, Italian and Romanesque victorian free and revival periods. Louvel was no master in the field of architecture. Far from it. That was his mother’s passion. However, he did spend many summers learning about the grounds, the vague history of the manor itself and how it was an anchor to the family he was apart of. The von der Marck’s family bloodline had effectively wrapped the globe and given the centuries that had passed it eventually made its embrace of the world complete.

The von der Marck lineage had so many volumes of records hidden within the interior walls that it would take decades to study and absorb the massive and detailed compilation of history that was available. It required generations of consistency and upkeep. As with other roles and positions in the family there was one responsible for just that and currently it was held by Judah von der Marck just as it was by Gasto, then Jakob their deceased bachelor uncle. Louvel's father, Otto, inherited the role of being responsible for the grounds, the exterior and interior of the manor. Preservation of the woods surrounding it was his mother's role. That would have been more suited for Louvel but with both of his parents passing relatively close together he took on both. Tradition and responsibility was strong and instilled in the von der Marck line from the first breath of life. You did not say no to duty, to it’s honor and certainly did not shirk from the responsibility you had while it’s blood was flowing through your veins.

While the family was spread out over the oceans and across the countries between there was a very strong, closely knit bond. The faces of young and old, new and familiar were found in the gatherings that had been held on the very ground he was standing on for centuries. Lou was told voyages, migrations and time consuming trips took place both at leisure and even great costs to those who made them. When the family was sent a summons or invitation to gather it was anticipated and looked forward to. Blood was to be honored and celebrated. The lives they lived outside of it were expected to be put on hold if at all possible so all could be accounted for. The traditions, customs hardly diluted or lessened the older the line grew.

The scent of evening was pulling through the air as he made his way through the back of the grounds and into the manor itself. The echo of indoor boots recently exchanged to replace the pair he wore for outside followed him as he made his way through the endless halls and corridors. As he moved he passed countless grand rooms trimmed and floored with the rich detailing of walnut, jarra, rosewood, maple, holly, and oak. The furniture was still in same place that seated descendants he would not name off hand. He moved nothing outside care and maintenance. He occupied one area in the south wing in the back. It was the caretakers modest boarding area and it suited him fine. There was nothing about Louvel that would place him in his current rich surroundings other than his blood and his sense of duty which increased ten fold when heard the sounds of a car arriving on the front drive. A glance through the massive ornate glass revealed a face he missed far too much even though he had seen it more frequently than most.

“Welcome home, brother.” Louvel stretched his arms and bear hugged his first cousin who was far more of a brother than pissant Heath von der Marck would ever be. A firm clap of his hand on the back of his shoulder and a kiss to the man’s cheek was delivered in greeting. “Let me look at you.” He stretched his arms but kept the firm grip on Jude’s shoulders. “Looking damn good. Still trying to be a saint?” He glanced out the door and found no one else so he closed it. “More work? I say a drink first.”

[Judah Marck]

Judah's face cracked into a smile, the shorter man positively beaming at Lou as they embraced. Judah held on tightly for a moment, patting the man's back in a similar fashion. One hand lifted to cup the back of his cousin's head, returning the brief kiss of cheek with gusto. "Great to see you. What?" He let the man push him out to arms length, shifting self-conciously beneath the stare. He didn't look bad, a little sleep deprived but nothing like he'd like a few weeks back. He was getting better, or at least, he wasn't getting much worse. "TRYING? Brother, I am a saint. Well, according to everyone else." A drink, he mentioned a drink and suddenly Judah's mouth felt dry, parched. "Wine?" He regretted the word but it was already out there, hovering between them. "Anyway, what's the point in delaying? We have a party to plan! Can you believe it? You and me? We'll have to call Gregor, that kid knows a thing or two about parties i'd bet. You seen pretty boy lately?"

Judah let himself be ushered inside, pausing to breathe in the smell of the old Manor, the history of the place hung thick in the area and made him tingle with anticipation. Theirs, this was theirs and they would all protect it as they did the family. Although Louvel was in charge of the place Jude knew it like the back of his hand and wasted no time walking towards the kitchen. "Everything going well? The pipes might be a bit of a pain for a while, old and rarely used but everything else is still looking good. You'll let us know if you need anything, right? The family are here for you, this place is... Important." He stressed the word, but his grin never left. "I can't believe this place is going to have life again, every time I come here it's usually empty and I feel so alone, yet... Not." The man stood straight, a slight shiver causing him to twitch. It was as if a presence watched them, not in the house but... He couldn't quite put his finger on it, probably some delusion brought on by being alone in a big old house.

Horror movies taught people to fear places like this, that the secret rooms and empty halls held ghosts, or beasts better left in the shadows but Jude wasn't afraid here. No, that strange sense that something was watching was a comfort. Almost like the house itself was alive, was there to embrace them, to keep them safe and make them feel protected. He loved this place, it was home. He'd fallen asleep a few times in the middle of the ballroom floor, his eyes heavy and tired from staring for hours at the twisted branches of their great family tree. Names burned into his brain, dreaming of who they were, or what talents and secrets they held. All of them von der Marck's, all of them sharing the blood of Alaric. "Lou, I need to show you some things, like soon pal. You're right though, first a drink and you can tell me what's been happening with you, yeah?"

[Louvel von der Marck]

Of course wine was always on the menu when Judah was around. While Louvel stepped back he gave he took the time to give his cousin a thorough once over. His blonde brows popped up at the finish and nodded. Not much had changed except they were growing older. Judah was still the same tightly wound ball of energy ready to bounce off the walls with whatever he had on his mind. And there was a lot on the man’s mind. A disappointing day it would be if there came a point there wasn’t.

While the blonde von der Marck made his way to where the wine could be found he glanced back every so often to make sure that he had not left Judah too far behind. A party needing to be planned fell on his ears. Of course it was getting to be that time again. The place would be bustling with von der Marck blood floating around the interior and the exterior grounds. He prepared for the run down list of details that would have to be addressed.

Instead there was the mention of Gregor. The one who had the panache to host parties that were raved about for months after. He always knew the right people, the right things to say and do. The only place he was out of his element it would seem was in the woods or perhaps on the back of a motorcycle. Louvel turned around just in time that the brief smirk that appeared across his lips was not seen. Now that all the thoughts rolled out of Judah’s mouth it was time to address them.

“Gregor?”

That was a good question. Louvel had a few ideas but nothing he felt worth mentioning at the moment. Right or wrong on his assumptions one thing was for sure. The ‘kid’ was grown up and likely living large and high wherever he currently was hanging out. A set of long sun caressed fingers found his chin and scraped at the short facial hair that peppered his jaw.

“I am pretty sure he would want in on this planning you are mentioning. You can call him?” A stretch of his long arm reached up on a door frame he passed and gave it a firm squeeze while thinking. “And if he asks just agree that I cut my hair. Trust me.”

As for the mentioned condition of the pipes that was a whole other story. Leave it to Judah to hit all the issues that Lou had been dealing with in record time. To his own credit he did his research over the previous months and learned fast that plumbing was anything but easy. Especially when he was left to work with a system that was around long before the first motorcar. Thankfully he had staff that was well acquainted with the place and the tricks of making it run efficiently.

“The pipes are manageable. I have a few hands that know what they are doing and so far the place is in one piece and still standing. Thanks, though, for the offer and I will certainly keep it in mind.”

The tip of his tongue traced his top lip lightly while he gave the interior around them some extra consideration. He shrugged and found that wine that Judah would enjoy perhaps more than most should.

Louvel glanced over then pulled his focus from Judah. His mossy orbs danced back and forth over the bottles that were available in front of him. He knew the only way he would hear what Judah had been up to was if he gave him a quick rundown of where he had been. But first they would drink.

“Das ist heir tiefste provinz.” He raised the bottle of wine in his hand and the empty glass meant for his cousin in the other. He spread them further apart as if to prompt Judah to take notice around them. They were out in the sticks. It was where he was at home but what was one to do where they were? “Du wirst dich noch umgucken!”

Louvel nodded matter of fact then filled the glass half full and extended it to Judah. He grinned in an after thought. Perhaps his favorite saint was so wound up he needed something to unwind him along with the wine. Louvel’s odd sense of humor generally worked in the past. He lifted the second glass he poured for himself. Just as Judah would expect a few profound words Lou so delivered. A little wisdom and a dose of honesty was a fail safe way to start off the evening. At least in Louvel von der Marck’s mind.

“Oans, zwoa, g’suffa!” He took a sip from the glass while he watched Judah. Just when he finally sampled the sweet red in his hand he made his announcement. “Meine unterhose hat einloch.”

Laughter erupted from Louvel. It was great to have the family saint in the making back home. Hopefully Jude brought his sense of humor with. If not Lou would bet a portion of his own inheritance on the bottles waiting to be consumed having what it takes to bring it to the surface.

[Judah Marck]

Judah's head nodded enthusiastically, his shiny dark hair flopping about in response. "You think? Yeah, I think he'd love it. I mean we'll do most of it, but it would really good to have his opinion on certain details and make sure it looks cool or something? I'm great at events, but not necessarily "cool" events... Lutheran Church events are rarely cool, I mean seriously, Lutheran rock bands are pretty rubbish if i'm being honest." Judah knocked his shoulder against Lou's arm as he caught up to the taller male trying not to get too distracted by staring at the rooms around them. It was so good to see it free of dust covers, with the heavy curtains open and afternoon light streaming in. Beautiful, it was beautiful the way the golden sun lit the room up catching small details one might miss otherwise.

He pushed the sleeves of black shirt up to his elbows, rolling the cuffs. "Wait... Your hair cut?" He peered at the back of the man's head curiously, his blonde hair in a shaggy style, but wasn't that sort of popular? He looked like some kinda of beach bound hippy half the time, but dressed far better than those types he'd encountered when they were living in California. His own dark hair was getting a little bit beyond shaggy, and he had a scruff of facial hair that was clearly more than a few days without shaving."You're fine Lou, i'll tell him you cut it and it's super cool. Sure, he won't believe me but i'll give it a shot!" He scratched at his jaw, rubbing over it and making a mental note to shave before work in the morning. Work, he mentally groaned, hand slipping down to loosen another button, feeling the tightness of where the clerical collar had sat tucked into his shirt collar just an hour ago. It was getting harder and harder to focus, he'd put in for vacation, though he'd told them it was to further study an interesting religious text he'd found and was inspired by.

He was getting good at bullshitting.

Yet here Louvel was, teasing him about being the family saint, even he had to know Jude was slipping. There were moments where the cracks were too many to hide, his fractured psyche barely held together by hope and desire to succeed, to bring his research to it's final conclusion, to Alaric.

Jude was glad to hear the house was being on it's best behaviour for the Keeper in their family, his dearest Lou. It wasn't exactly a light responsibility, but he knew the man would be up to task. "You'll make us proud." He mumbled, peering around the man as he began to make his choice. The place had a decent cellar, some bottles worth more than half his yearly salary hidden away under layers of dust in a dark cellar. He'd never touch them, mostly because he was the kind of man who could drink the crappiest quality of wine and be content. Quantity tended to be more relevant these days.

His eyes were narrowed as his cousin began to speak German. Uh oh. The pair had played a variety of pranks on each other over the years, and others, he half expected the guy to withhold the wine or to wind him up in some other way. He was relieved when the glass was poured and presented to him. As Lou began the Bavarian drinking chant he picked it up, chanting along. "Yes, down the hatch." The glass was lifted to his lips and just as he took a decent sized sip the words were spoken. A hole in his underpants?

That son of a gun.

Jude was the laughing kind, he loved a good chuckle, a well told joke and of course stupid little windup's. It was rare that he wasn't smiling, or being a bit of a goof, so it was no surprise to himself or to his cousin that he began to laugh, it was however a surprise that he was unable to keep the wine in his mouth. He choked on his laughter and it all became too much, Judah spitting half his mouthful out in Lou's direction before he could stop it. His hand clapped over his mouth, wiping away a few droplets of the crimson liquid, coughing behind his palm. "Dummkopf!" He spluttered, the best insult he could muster, Judah saved swearing for more serious times or moods. "I hope you don't like that shirt... Man, you know better! Remember that time I snorted milkshake from laughing too hard and laughed it out my nose all over your lap at Ihop? Your dad was SO mad, it was amazing." Was that supposed to make it better? ****, hopefully it would make Lou laugh along with him, being messy rarely bothered him before.

He looked around for some napkins, while casually sipping some more of his wine. Yep, this party was going to be a real hoot.

[Louvel von der Marck]

Lutheran rock bands? Louvel pondered the idea of such a thing existing. That would mean setting aside his hardly known preference for groups like Blind Melon singing Change or Puddle of Mudd hitting it with Drift and Die. He would have a hard time giving up the genius of Bob Dylan, Pearl Jam and the deep tracks of the classic rock and the messages of the decades that he related to that were way before his time. Mara passed that on as well as the works of the classical composers she used for inspiration while she painted. He was all into the music coupled with his moods, where he was going and it being able to follow him there and hold on.

“Yeah, really have to say you have me beat on time spent hanging in the Lutheran scene.” He realized that could be a confession of sorts on his part and ran his hand over the top of his head in an after thought. He wasn’t so sure he wanted to ask Judah how that all was going for him. Not yet. Why be so serious off the bat? They had all the time in the world to get there. He watched Judah make the task of rolling up his sleeves seem easy. A quick glance of his own bare wrists solved it for him. He wouldn’t have to mirror his cousin’s example. “I think we can scare up a different theme to build off of. And yes, the hair. Been a thing...a predictable reminder of sorts.” Jude voiced his solution and he nodded in agreement. “Sounds like a good plan.”

And as with all the other times between them there was the icebreaker that cracked any formality or expectation and whittled away the idea that they should be more than either truly expected of each other. They were brothers more than first cousins. Judah and Louvel even if they were still von der Marck’s. They laughed and they lived and were imperfect. It was what made them as close as they were, as ready to accept the other for what they were not what they were expected to be.

Yes, there was Jude releasing the wine into the air like a fountain. Louvel’s face blossomed into the biggest grin. His laughter was deep, not incredibly so. Easy like it was meant to be as it continued to flow while he set down the bottle he was still holding. Judah once again stuck in his mind. Judah the saint. All the times they shared that left him in the reverse and wiping his own face free from the fluid that went up in the wrong direction at the least expected moment and bubbled from his nose. He was never embarrassed when it happened because it was Judah there to witness it and more often than not the reason it happened. The milkshake incident was unforgettable. So was the sound of Jude’s laughter then and even now. It was great to have him back. He and all that exuberant energy waiting to be reined in and channeled to the task he felt weighing on his shoulders.

The cool air at various places on his chest reminded him that he was wearing deep berry red spots on his front. Without a second thought of stepping away out of view, which would be uncharacteristic of him entirely, he simply curled his fingers under the hem of wine sprayed shirt and lifted it upward to peel it from his body. The fabric curled in his hand as his wrist rotated enough to gather the thin bulk of it in the center of his palm which his fingers locked down and held. He eyed Jude slowly with his face softening until his lips formed a serious line. It wasn’t held for long. Again he burst out laughing while his steps took him on the brief search for a place to deposit what he had been wearing.

“So, you have come to plan a party, brother.” He spoke as his feet moved. “How many you calling forth this time?” Lou paused his speech when he located the shirt he had been wearing the day before and let it slide over his head and shoulders. “A couple? Or that world wide call for all that means the place will be packed.” One arm shot through each sleeve and his hands rolled the rest down in place. “And what is the occasion outside von der Marks being awesome?”

[Judah Marck]

Judah's grin grew as Louvel not only didn't admonish him for ruining his shirt, he seemed amused by it. Part of Jude felt bad for bringing up that day, while it was largely a good memory, they'd shared a lot of laughs which was the reason for the milkshake incident but they had also had to sit through Otto's fury. He'd contained it well as they cleaned up, finished their meal and paid the bill. Outside he'd walked with them to the car, all of them climbing in and buckling up.

Then the doors had been locked.

He'd driven in silence until randomly he'd pulled over on the side of the road, turning on the boys and unleashing his fury in full, "YOU, the Chronicler of our family, you may be only sixteen, Judah but sometimes I wonder if that damn useless father of yours didn't ruin you. Jakob was weak, he was weak and he didn't survive, I thought you would be stronger. Better. My father spent so much time working with you, maybe not enough." It was a cold sort of fury, spoken between clenched teeth, a slow seething burning inside of him and as he turned on Louvel he merely scoffed. Scoffed into his son's face, not even acknowledging him with words. Their childish behaviour was far from amusing to him and he had no patience for it. They should grow up, be men in the eyes of Otto von der Marck.

Judah did everything he could not to laugh, better than crying.

They'd finished the drive in dead silence, Judah's hand crept across the rich, luxurious leather of the seat, taking hold of Lou's. A strong grip, a supportive locking of fingers. Unity. It was the first and last time Jude sat in silence under Otto's judgement, the next time he'd tried it Judah had stood tall, figuratively speaking, and told the man to stop being bitter that his time with a title was nearing it's end and that his son would be twice the man he was. He'd scored shiner for it and had laughed the entire time, most likely because he'd been drunk at the time. Louvel didn't know about the encounter because Jude didn't exactly want to admit his disrespect, or bring forth any animosity between them. It was unnecessary, and he'd declared proudly that'd knocked his face on a wall after a poorly landed backflip, because for Jude that was pretty standard. No one questioned it.

In the present day Louvel was tugging off his shirt, stripping it away from his skin and looking around for where to put it. Jude was never surprised by his families nudity, they were all perhaps a little too comfortable with each other, many days of skinny dipping and pantsing each other in public meant no one gave a damn anymore about a stray nipple. He snatched the shirt free of Lou's hands, taking it to the sink as his cousin found another shirt to replace the other, talking once more. As Jude rinsed away the worst of the wine droplets, knowing it would do little to remove them but it would stop them from settling into the fibres. He had experience. He wrung out the worst of it, hanging it loosely over the large tap to dry some.

"Party? YES PARTY!" He chirped, flitting back to Louvel's side, grasping the man's arms and spinning him around, "A Summoning," He scoffed, "THE Summoning... Lou... You have no idea what I have find. I have to show you!" His bag, where was his bag? He held up a finger, releasing the man and darting back outside to his car. He fumbled with the keys, dropping them once before capturing them back up, unlocking the car and grabbing out the brown leather satchel that rarely left his side for long. It didn't take long for the man to be back inside, walking passed his cousin towards the ballroom.

"Ok, so i've been getting closer to the short list, i'd been highlighting those were dead and living of course, they deserve recognition, but the list is just those alive and active. Reachable. Right?" He grinned, proudly patting the satchel. "Anyway you know I traveled, I called, I wrote and I just straight up stalked a lot of family to find out more about our history and plan for our future." He looked starry eyed as he stared around the ballroom, reaching out to brush his fingertips gingerly over the named leaves of the great tree. "I think i've found HIM, or I mean, a way to get to the truth. I started collecting pages of journal entries, some weren't complete, just fragments and then it started to come together. Every word I collected, deciphered, transcribed told more of his story. Alaric. Lou..." He wrung his hands excitably, "ALARIC!" He cheered, bouncing a little on the spot, undoing the buckles of his satchel and drawing out a large, leather bound journal, opening to reveal his own writing but someone else's words.

"The party will be those who are loyal, talented, who have the ability to help this family towards a greater purpose. Those of us who hold title will lead them, help them to see what we need to do and to achieve it. Can't you feel it? Louvel? It has to be here, this place is... Magical." He sighed, sinking down to the ground in a dramatic swoon, arms clutching his journal close to his chest. Growing still and quiet, his words barely a whisper. "I need you guys, I need you more than ever because I need him, Lou, I need him to be real." His voice cracked, the man leaning up on his elbows, staring up to Louvel as if seeking salvation, seeking something akin to absolution and coming up short. He should've had more wine. "I need... For this all to have been worth something. People have died for this, so many and we have a chance now. I think between us we can work out the missing pieces... I need you, brother." He reached up, hopeful.

[Louvel von der Marck]

Louvel was in the fabric that slid over his head and arms when he caught sight of Judah at the sink with the shirt that was needing to be treated. His eyes stayed on him even as he stepped around the room. Judah was a good man. The kind of man that took the shirt off your back and washed it if he did anything to change or alter its condition. He was a better man than most that he knew, especially himself.

Louvel licked his top lip slowly while he took notice of the glasses they had and the bottle that still had enough to offer both of them. While his hand lifted then poured each full he glanced again to his cousin and admired his attention to the detail in trying to make spots go away on a shirt that mattered little to Lou. Kindness, consideration. It oozed from Judah von der Marck. Goodness. The kind you found the closer you got to his god. Louvel felt a little unworthy as he set the bottle down. He was nowhere as strong in faith of a higher power as his cousin was. He believed in the earth, the sun, the force of nature and the powerful connection he had to the soil he was born on.

Judah came forward and he quickly set the glasses back down. The momentum was infectious and full of cues that said he needed his arms free, which they were. Side by side they were while Jude sang of a party and then mentioned a summoning. He nearly missed it as his hands and arms went with the way they were guided by Judah’s own. His exuberance was that which was seen in huge lotto winners, in those who won the elections for office...no even more than that.

It was like he was speaking of discovering the Holy Grail and was bursting with expectation that Lou would be accompanying him to go get it. Now the words came with the whirlwind of excitement forming around him. The summoning? Louvel’s eyes widened. He really was on about finding something. This was not like Judah at all over something simple. No, there was certainly far more to the picture. And when the man raised his finger to mark that he had a point Lou waited empty handed just in case.

With that signal alone Judah disappeared and soon Louvel was able to gather that he was retrieving something from the car. His eyes went to the glasses of wine then back to the door that Judah made recent use of. A massage of his hand at the underside of his jaw left him wondering what he could expect to come through that door along with his cousin. Seconds, maybe twenty at most passed before Judah reappeared and breezed past him with a leather satchel in his hands. As Judah did Louvel was behind him in a slower pace but no where close to being alone in the room they started out in.

To the ballroom he kept a close tail while the saintly von der Marck announced that he was getting closer on the short list, the dead and living. He noted that the list was comprised mainly of those reachable despite his numerous attempts at travel and means of various contact to get as much information as possible. The future. It was his point and as he seemed lost momentarily in what was around him, as if he saw what Lou had yet to. His head moved slightly. He had been in the ballroom just as much, hadn’t he?

Louvel looked to Judah’s finger as it moved and discovered the massive tree that revealed more names than he could see at once. Some were very familiar, others he couldn’t recall ever seeing but they were there like always. His voice spilled out the ways he had researched, gathered and studied over the information he was so on fire about. Then it came out. He was confident he had found him. At first he wasn’t sure who he was. Then he said a name. Once as if he was voicing his own name. Nothing more exciting than that. Then again with more emotion, as if that was possible after the energy he had displayed on his current quest since he arrived. The buckles were unfastened and a leather bound journal appeared. Alaric? Alaric. He blinked watching his cousin’s hands then realized the one he was going on about. He had found him or at least the truth. Louvel nodded.

Every family had mysteries, had someone searching to explain events, lines of ancestors that perhaps had done something grand or scandalous. It was like that with the von der Marck's as well. There was a key that needed to be found, a door that needed to be opened to find what was behind it. So much was left unexplained and here was Judah, the chronicler eyes deep in his role of finding out what decades had tried to. This was worth celebrating. The party would involve those who could be seen as responsible for using the discovery and guiding those to achieve. He nodded slowly. He was feeling a lot when Judah asked him. He felt the hairs on the back of his neck rise, the hairs on his arms lift a little. Was that it? If it was more than Judah’s body hair was standing on end. I had him swooning and dropping in proclamation. Lou looked down at his cousin and felt it sinking in. Judah was on to something that created a slow shiver of anticipation down his spine.

“Yes, yes.” He chuckled. “You have my help, whatever it takes I will try to make it happen where I can.” He looked around then to the direction where their glasses had been left. “Then it is time for a toast, yes?” He extended his hand and pulled his cousin, his brother up from the floor just as he could be counted on to do until his body turned into dust. “I am there. You always got me.”

With that Louvel’s arms wrapped around Judah and gripped him close and held him tight. He gave him a firm series of pats on the back of the shoulder and felt an odd chill come over him at the same time. His eyes looked for the source of the sudden draft but found nothing standing out. He released Judah and stepped back. A nod of his head towards the kitchen where the wine was waiting was his only signal as he moved in the lead.

"We need to call in Gregor."His voice was firm as he said it while clearing the doorway and spotting the glasses he wanted to feel in his hands. "And anyone else you feel is fitting for this epic challenge of hide and seek. We are going to need all the help we can get."

[Judah Marck]

His hand was grasped, the man being pulled bodily to his feet, the other arm clutching the journal close as Louvel held him. Jude one arm embraced the man, clasping behind his head and planting a firm, brief kiss on his mouth. "BROTHER! Yes, thank you! You don't understand what this means to me, or maybe you do." He muttered feverishly, though the mad fire that had taken hold of him, the excitement that had his hair standing on end, his nerves lit up like the fourth of July ready to take whatever came his way. He was calming, slowly but surely, once more feeling as if his mouth was growing dry, parched. Wine. Yes, he never really got a proper swallow of the glorious crimson blood of Christ, he needed it again to reign it in. His hands had a slow tremble starting in them and he hold onto the journal and Louvel like a lifeline. He was content to stay there as long as the other man was and they did for some time, arms around each other, an easy embrace that spoke of camaraderie, of comfort and support. He would lean on him, knowing that Lou would never let him fall, never fully at least.

As they broke free of each other Judah sighed, collecting up that brown leather satchel but the journal was not back inside, not yet. This journal was one of many, he would easily fill at least one a year though some were reserved for important discoveries, this one was devoted to Alaric's journal, to the ritual pieces he'd found so far and the Summoning. Another thinner, smaller book was in the satchel, a Diary, Judah ever the erratic and yet organised. He made dates, to ensure he would remember even if he'd been on a bit of a bender. The man couldn't recall the last time he had been late a meeting or important event, in fact he often showed up early and was there grinning like an idiot when the rest arrived. He felt a certain pressure to have plans, to have a sense of order now that Louvel had agreed and so Judah followed him into the kitchen where he found a seat, laying out the journal on a table and flicking to the page with the proposed guest list. "Yes, Gregor, I will call him once I have explained to you what exactly I mean, let's have more to drink hm? Get this flowing."

He reached over to capture his, still mostly full and brought it eagerly to his lips, there was a moment of appreciation for the fine vintage. His eyes slipped closed, letting the liquid roll around in his mouth before it was swallowed, touching an itch that had begun under his skin but not truly soothing it. He was aware of his problem, and the fact that over the years it had fluctuated between full blown alcoholism and a mild niggling desire. There was the time he didn't touch it other than for religious purposes, that watered down stuff, for the better part of 6 months but then the feeling of his genius slipping to madness only grew.

Did he really need it to keep it together or was that just the disease talking?

Who knew, Jude was a special case, or at least his family seemed to think so. None of them sought him outside help, just occasionally shoved him into a cold shower when he'd gone too far, forced him into daylight and then into a warm, cozy bed making him sleep. Making him eat, making him survive. Louvel had done it more times than he had any right to ask for, and he was eternally grateful for the man. Now that Gregor was getting older he had seen a touch of the darker side of his cousin Jude, but hadn't seemed at all phased. He'd likely scoff and tell him his demons were darker and far more dangerous.

He set the glass aside, not quite finishing it off, feeling the need to regain control by limiting himself, taking charge of the situation. "Ok, so the list, I should explain. I think i've told you about this before Lou Lou, BUT... These are the living relatives who are considered the most worthy, the most loyal and most useful for our purposes. I also have a smaller list of relatives and service stuff who are trusted, and would be eager to assist at the Summoning, they would understand the need for secrecy and consider it an honour. We need only people like that there. I would love to invite everyone possible, but this is not the time. Lou... There are powers in this family, abilities that are beyond the natural and I believe YOU know exactly what I mean." He didn't elaborate, it was a drunken conversation that Jude remembered with crystal clarity, the pair of them curled up in a bed sharing secrets in the darkness when sleep just wouldn't come. The truth of Mara's passing breaking Jude's heart and yet confirming some of his research. There was more to this family than met the eye.

He flicked a page, a list of items written down in dot point form things like guest list, invitations, date, time, manor preparation, decorations, food, performer (Mirella) and so on. The list filled two pages and at the end of it three names. Judah, Louvel and Gregor, a question mark next to the last. He had no doubt Gregor would be pleased to consult on direction details, on where to get the best catering, would agree to help Jude get a better hair cut and pick out a suit. Perhaps the boys could make a day of it, though no doubt Lou would run a mile if hair came up. "I've got these so far, if you think there is anything else we must consider please let me know, we can add it... Do you want to hear the important part yet?"

Jude felt the itch again, not to drain his wine, no the itch to tell his cousin EVERYTHING. He would of course, in good time, for now he'd tell him what he needed to know, there was missing information and Jude had to do further research. He was hoping for the party to take place as soon as possible, and there was a lot to do before that. "I'll have to call Ella, I want my sweet little Firebug to do one of her performances, don't you think that would be great? She will be the only one in her immediate family invited, I believe, the others are lovely but not sure they have the required skills for this. The twins could be useful in future, and we'll have a big party after this is done... Hopefully the biggest party of all. OH, Lou, can you imagine? All of the von der Marck's we can gather, here, looking on in awe as we present to them their past, their future, their Patriarch."

Alaric was on his mind again, the man he'd found few portraits of and even less descriptions yet his journal spoke volumes and the words written about him in passing of those that knew him detailed a man he very much wanted to meet. He drank the last drops of wine before flicking backwards in the journal, to a page that read "Ritual" at the top of it, and germanic writing scrawled beneath, a polaroid picture stuck in it of an old page of writing, barely legible it was so faded with age. "It is my belief that I have found a way to raise Alaric from the dead... Well, maybe not the did? This implies he isn't dead entirely, just banished from this world. I think the word it wants is realm? I'm not sure, but it is not complete by any means and what is there is damaged, faded, hard to decipher. I believe that someone in the lineage may have more writings like this, i've collected fragments of it from many branches. It's like someone scattered it intentionally, but it could just be like most of his belongings and writing that came back to us... The family broke apart, and so went these things with them."

He flicked back to the party list, shaking his head, "Until I have more that's all I can really tell you. I think it has something to do with this place though, don't you FEEL it? When you are here? Especially when there are many von der Marck's under the same roof, a sort of energy, a power. What if we bring together the most powerful? The ones who believe? I think we might just be able to do it, we just need to figure out what IT is and how it's done. Gregor, i'll text him." He pulled out his phone, typing out a quick message making request for Gregor to meet them. "Tomorrow, yeah? He is in town, he can meet us tomorrow the brat." He said as such in his text, sending it off. "Tell me, Lou... Do you believe?"

[Gregor (DELETED 8093)]

C H A P T E R II
H E ' S M Y B R O T H E R

A day later and a few dollars shorter.

The Bentley pulled into the drive silently, leaving the driver to exit hastily after ensuring the car was in park. He wore a cap over unruly dark locks, which curled down to his shoulders like a tangle of thorns in some jungle thicket. There was this barely restrained sense of animal magnetism to him. He was carefully polished, and yet it was immediately clear that the clean lines of his suit were an illusion. Broad shoulders stretched at his jacket, and a vest fitted against his abdomen to emphasize the masculinity of his form. Such was Abelard, the faithful manservant to one Gregor von der Marck. One powerful hand came to rest against a door, yanking it open as Abe stepped back and away. This was the day to day dance of his employment, guessing at the needs of a young man who might as well have been his owner.

One leg slid from the darkness of the vehicle. The windows had been tinted ages before, because what happened inside was nobody's ******* business. It was early in the morning and the sun was only just beginning to come out, filtering through the trees which dotted the family estate. He was clad in a suit that differed from his normal choice of sleek and elegant lines by drawing from a previous era when pictures were only black and white. His own vest was double breasted in a baby blue that paired with the gorgeous cream of his button down shirt underneath. Rather than a tie, he wore a silk scarf woven carefully into a bow; it was the color of the ocean, swaying blues and greens. His tailcoat was long and slimming, the material matching his slacks. The fabric was thick, and ancient. In truth, it had once belonged to an ancestor. Carefully preserved. He accessorized it with von der Marck cufflinks and Dulce and Gabbana shades, which obscured the normal sky blue clarity of his gaze. His hair was slick, but there was an untamed quality to it.

Brogues in cognac leather descended to crunch on gravel as Gregor drew himself fully out of the Bentley. In one hand he held a bottle of Rioja, and in the other there was a loaf of bread, which he barely clasped between a few of his slender digits. He held it vaguely the same way one might hold the tail of a newly killed rat. The text he'd gotten from his cousin had said to bring some sort of carb filled...things. He'd honestly just skimmed over the words before asking Abelard to get something for them. The wine was mostly for show. Never go anywhere without taking a gift. That was one of the pieces of etiquette his parents had drilled into his head before their untimely demise. And yet it was a sure bet he'd end up downing half of the bottle himself. That was the other reason for the sunglasses. Had to distract from the day drinking somehow didn't he? So after Abe shut the door behind him, he flung the loaf of bread towards the man; it hit his chest with a thunk before the pair made their way towards the front door of Louvel's keeper cottage.

Nobody used the manor anymore. Not as a residence at east. For the most part it was only ever opened up and dusted out for the yearly gatherings. Of course, it had been one of the fun games of his youth to play hide and seek in there. Or explore all of the dark corners. Age had shown him more of it than his young mind could have comprehended. For a place as old as the von der Marck homestead, the walls had their own personality. The grounds had their own soul. Places of power, some people called them. Magic was a word that might have been thrown around. Mecca. Jerusalem. Sacred. Everyone had that place in the world that happened to be the very center of their universe and such was the beauty of the manse. At one point, it had been open to everyone in the family who needed a place to rest their head, but in recent decades, that had all changed.

Much like the family had changed.

Gregor stood at the door of the cottage, assuming that was where Judah and Louvel had bunked down for the night. He rapped at the door, wine tucked under one arm, shoulders carefully rolled back, his gaze intent on the wooden entrance. Eyes that could pick out the most minute detail were focused. Curious. Of course he was in town. He had been battling with the idea of not attending the family gathering for a variety of reasons. His parents were gone. He held that fact against them and against the world with such a deep well of rage to fuel it that a single look from him could be scalding, without his even intending it to be. But they had left him that letter. They wanted him to be more involved. And that annoyed him too. Ultimately, he'd decided to attend because Louvel and Judah would be there. Two of the people who were nearly as much a part of his life as his parents had been. And he needed the comfort of Lou's green eyes and his solid hands if he was going to get through the whole thing without downing enough wine to float a boat.

The whole world disgusted him. But they were family. This was home. He was willing to give it a try. And there again rose that same curiosity again. Why had he been called? Did it have something to do with the position he had inherited only a year before? Or was it something else? Maybe they just wanted to hang out with him. Perhaps they had noticed the dark cloud which had clung to him like a melancholic miasma over the past several months. Maybe he was overthinking it.