Last edit made on: September 2nd 2014.

Disclaimer: I do not own D. Gray – Man. Pity.

- o0o -

Calling

- o0o -

Allen Walker had never once considered himself normal; paranormal or abnormal perhaps, but definitely not normal. Part of it could probably be blamed on his looks, since white hair was not a very common feature amongst fifteen-year-olds. Having a scaly red left arm with a glowing cross imbedded in his palm was most certainly not a particularly normal thing either, but as for the latter, it was not as though all too many people besides himself knew about it, as he had a tendency of wearing hooded long-sleeved sweaters along with gloves in order to make sure that this so called ailment of his did not become common knowledge.

His dressing habits obviously had obviously not gone unnoticed by his surroundings, but with him being who he was, he was used to being questioned about it and honestly cared very little in general, since most people already considered him a freak anyway. After all, with his stranger habits in combination with his actual features – features that besides white hair also included a thin red scar, starting as an inverted pentagram on the left side of his forehead, continuing as a vertical line across his eyelid before ending on his cheek in a slight zigzag motion, plainly visible on his face – it was not as though he just naturally fell into the category of average either.

Truth to be told, quite a fair number of people had asked him either directly or in more roundabout ways whether or not he worshipped the Devil, and on occasion, cults or sects or whatever found their way either to his doorstep or to places that he might frequent otherwise, seeking to recruit him for a whole lot of things that he was not even remotely interested in. Said things included – amongst others – black magic, worshipping the Devil, fighting the forces of good, fighting the forces of evil, fighting whatever and whomever and however and whatnot, basically. Truthfully, it was all quite tiring, and he normally put their brochures where they belonged – in the trash – or even made a merry little bonfire out of them.

Truth to be told, Allen would very much have liked to know just who was responsible for it all, because quite frankly, someone just had to have spread rumours about him, and his address along with them while they were at it. Truthfully, he would very much like to see the face of that person, and even more truthfully, he would like to see his own foot in it.

Regardless, Allen himself held no interest whatsoever in these kind of things – religion, that is – and he found that he did not even mind having the minions of the Devil himself living in his neighbourhood as long as they did not attempt to recruit him on a frequent basis and the forces of "good" did not attempt to make him join their fight against the aforementioned either.

In short, he was a neutral party, and he fully intended to stay that way.

To say that he did not hold any interest whatsoever in religion was not an understatement. It was definitely true, but he truthfully did not mind it all that much either, provided that it stayed as far away from him as possible. As for whether or not he actually believed in God or not, Allen was still indecisive. As for the Devil, the fact that people like his old guardian – or Master, as the man had insisted upon being called – had been born into this world and continued to roam it freely was enough proof for Allen that the Devil not only existed; he was thriving, roaming the earth and in the guise of a human at that.

Cross Marian.

That damned debt-making, evil, drinking, womanising bastard.

This person was the so called Master that Allen had been unlucky enough to get saddled with. Said person was also one of the major reasons as to why Allen – in case he ever met God – intended on sitting down with the man to have a serious talk in regards to what he – Allen – had done to deserve such a thing. Then again, from what Allen had come to know and understand about God, God just had to be one obstinate bastard, if one could excuse his choice of words in this particular matter. Also, God was not very likely to be very keen on changing his mind unless one proved to be willing to join his special little cult, promising eternal life to one who ought to have suffered through the debt-paying Hell that Allen's life should have been. Notice well the "should have"; Allen was no longer paying any of his Master's debts since he – using a few tricks and a loophole in the system – had succeeded in getting legally emancipated and effectively made a life of his own.

Admittedly, the aforementioned life had neither been easy to obtain nor to keep once he had managed that first part. Getting his own apartment had certainly been a bit of an adventure in itself, and so was getting the money he needed in order to pay his rent. Admittedly, said rent was fairly low by the standards of London, but it was still a hassle to keep up with for a mere student like himself, seeing to the fact that there were also things like regular living expenses and tuition to deal with.

To earn money, he worked on a freelance basis – self-employed, in a manner of speaking – and occasionally played poker either on the Internet or in real life with potentially dangerous criminals in order to make some more money, and so on and so forth.

"If one can't reason with God, one has to go and play cards with the Devil."

That just ought to be one of the cleverest things that man had ever said, and when it came to card game, Allen really wasn't the type to lose, since as a matter of fact, he was always cheating.

Regardless, if his occasionally unstable financial situation had been his only problem, then Allen wouldn't have minded all that much. However, as if to add something more to the already complicated life, he just had to be a freaking magnet for trouble; supernatural trouble, that is.

Hoisting his schoolbag up a bit further onto his shoulder, Allen hurried his steps along a bit as he made his way homewards, trying to get away from the more crowded streets. He felt like he was being watched, which in the end was not a very unusual thing for him; people were always staring no matter where he went.

Allen pulled his hood up, preferring to look more like a delinquent than to show off his snow-white head in such surroundings.

Mere minutes later, his decision to cover his head proved fruitful, because as he continued walking it suddenly started raining, as if the weather itself was trying to mock him. Then again, since the world in general seemed quite keen on mocking him on a quite regular basis, he paid no heed to it and pressed onward despite the fact that his schoolbooks were about to get drenched along with several other items in his bag. If anything, then he was far more worried about the state of his cell phone and MP3-player, because buying new ones would be a hassle.

Sighing deeply, Allen came to a stop as he singled out a presence that he had since long learnt to recognise, seeing that he had inevitably had quite a bit of time and opportunity to familiarise himself with it.

Before long, the sound of the other's footsteps against the pavement reached him, and he remained where he stood, lifting his gaze only when someone held out an umbrella over his head.

Allen didn't need to turn around in order to confirm the other's identity; presence aside, the distinct smell of tobacco couldn't really have come from anyone else.

"Walking around in the rain like that… You're gonna catch your death one day…"

Allen snorted before he continued on his way, and was soon followed by the one holding the umbrella over them both. "Tyki, don't you ever work?"

The man – identified as Tyki – snickered once more, running a hand through his half-long black hair, combing it back with a smooth motion which would have made most models out there green with envy. "Not often," he said, peering down at Allen with his strange amber-coloured eyes. "But that way, I'm able to spend more time with you…"

Allen seriously longed to hit someone. All supernatural and financial matters aside, having a stalker was a pain in the ass, having a supernatural stalker living in the apartment next to his was even worse and having a supernatural stalker living next to him with the ability to walk through walls occasionally proved unbearable. But, as with most troublesome things in his life, Allen couldn't very well call the police or attempt to file a restraining order, since obviously, the act of making such claims was far more likely to land him in some type of mental institution than to accomplish any remotely desirable results.

Besides, stalker tendencies aside, Tyki was usually a nice person and a good neighbour, since Allen would have had much more trouble with the world in general if he hadn't had Tyki around, seeing to the fact that Tyki's presence in itself was usually enough to scare off any preachers or recruiters that otherwise had a nasty tendency of landing on his doorstep. However, the troublesome part of it was that Tyki couldn't always be considered nice, or even sane for that matter.

Or, as Tyki himself had explained soon after moving in, it was as though he had two different sides to him – one side which was moderately sane and one that was bloody insane. Allen found that he did not care all too much about it either way – well, not at the moment at least – since he usually had far more important things to consider, like the strange tingling sensation that he experienced as soon as they entered their block.

He stopped, and so did Tyki, mere moments later. Surveying their surroundings warily, Allen narrowed his eyes slightly. "We've got unwanted company," he said, lowering his voice.

Tyki continued snickering, not at all bothered by the fact that someone had trespassed on what they generally considered their turf. "Your senses are keen," he then said, smirking in his general direction. "But it's up to you. Do we find them and fight them or do we just ignore them?"

Having pinpointed and swiftly identified the people – a pair of Black Order exorcists, and familiar ones at that – watching them from their spot at the entrance of a building nearby – seeking shelter from the rain judging from the looks of it – Allen averted his eyes and lifted his hand, his fingertips brushing lightly against the hand holding the umbrella as he continued walking. "Ignore them. I'd rather not make this another incident."

"Hoh?" Tyki responded, evidently disappointed. Despite this however, he did not question Allen's judgement, which was a lovely thing altogether. After all, despite Allen's own feelings in regards to the intruders in question – well, in regards to one of them at the very least – and despite the fact that he disliked their kind on principle, Allen really didn't feel the need to stir things up with the Order, and especially not at a time when he attended a school founded, funded and at the very least partially operated by the aforementioned Order.

If anything, he had initially developed his dislike of them because of the uniforms they wore, both at school and at work, because they brought back some very bad memories to him. Ironically, Cross Marian – that utterly sinful person – had been something of a clergyman in the aforementioned Order at some point, before the man just happened to go missing in India for no apparent reason.

Thus, Allen really didn't want anything to do with them, and had tried to avoid making contact with them as much as possible, which certainly wasn't an easy task, seeing to the fact that the Black Order practically ruled the school that he attended and that they even had some sort of special elite classes – or units, depending on whether it was at school or outside of it – that wore their very distinct black uniforms decorated with the Rose Cross.

Then again, had they been decidedly pleasant people, then Allen would probably have been able to see past their uniforms. However, as he had come to discover through brief and usually rather unpleasant encounters, they were decidedly unpleasant; either naturally unpleasant or trying far too hard to be pleasant and ending up as even more unpleasant because of it. Then again, what he had come to view as pleasant and unpleasant apparently differed a tiny bit from the average definition of them.

He looked up as Tyki patted him lightly on the shoulder; physical contact had always been something that Allen had found it hard to like, considering it largely always off-limits, but he was already soaked and tired and found that he didn't care all that much about it at the present.

"I suppose that the racket the other day didn't pass by completely unnoticed…" Tyki commented, retaining his smirk, as though the exorcists did not bother him at all.

Reminded of another bad thing, Allen again felt the urge to sigh.

Approximately three days prior, a pair of bullies at his school had got the wonderful idea of trying to steal Allen's lunch in a vain attempt to look cool in front of their peers. Nevertheless, Allen's lunch and Allen's food in general was off-limits to anyone who sought to be happy and to remain happy in life, since Allen certainly made sure that those bullies would come to live very unhappy lives thereafter.

It appeared as though the Voodoo for Beginners supplied to him by Tyki – who had in turn borrowed it from his creepy niece – had actually proved useful, but in the end, after all that, it was a bit weird that the exorcists hadn't turned up to investigate the matter sooner.

However, having them around was never a good thing and he would do well in staying off their radar until he considered himself powerful enough to kick their respective arses. But, in the end, Allen had far more important stuff to worry about, such as what he was going to eat for supper. In response to this, his stomach rumbled loudly.

A still smirking Tyki folded the umbrella. "Pizza at my place?"

Allen tilted his head to one side, his hair still dripping a bit. "Only if you pay for it."

Surprisingly, having a stalker living next-door could actually prove useful, at least sometimes. Every cloud had a silver lining and whatnot, or at least so Allen supposed.

- o0o -

Yawning, he silenced the alarm clock through knocking it down onto the floor; his intent had obviously been to just turn it off, but lingering exhaustion ensured that his aim wasn't the best.

Staying up late playing games with Tyki had probably not been a very good idea considering the fact that Allen had to get up in the morning, so yeah, the event had most definitely not been a part of the original plan. In hindsight though, Allen supposed that it was well worth it, since he had made almost a thousand bucks in less than an hour, which was almost better than what he could earn on his more prominent assignments.

Speaking of working…

If his memory wasn't a total mess, then he did have an appointment later that day, hence the reason as to why his alarm clock had been ringing even though he didn't have to go to school. After all, to him, Saturday was working day.

Rolling onto his side, he came face to face with a certain smirking Portuguese guy, confirming what he had already been suspecting. Initially – when waking up in bed with the aforementioned stalker had been a more novel and mildly horrifying concept – he had had a more violent reaction. Now however, he barely even twitched. "Good morning…" Tyki purred, actually petting him on the head.

Allen tolerated the action for a total of two and a half seconds before finally snapping, grabbing onto the other's wrist and squeezing it. "I have asked you many times and I ask you yet again…" he growled, baring his teeth slightly. "Don't do that."

Tyki snickered, clearly amused as always and Allen slowly let go, knowing there was little point in pressing the matter any further. "I take it that you don't want breakfast then?" Tyki said, getting up and wandering off in direction of the kitchen.

Sitting up slowly, Allen took note of the fact that he was no longer in his own apartment but rather in Tyki's, and in the man's bed too from the looks of it. As has already been mentioned, Allen probably would have freaked out if this had been the first time that this sort of thing had happened, but it obviously wasn't. The first couple of times this sort of thing had occurred, Allen had panicked, but nowadays he almost found himself expecting it. Come to think of it, he didn't actually remember getting into bed in the first place.

Getting up and pushing aside the dark satin covers, Allen noticed that at least Tyki hadn't gone through the trouble of changing his clothes and that was enough for him to rejoice even one tiny bit because that meant that he didn't have to feel embarrassed about more than the fact that he had been carried to bed by the other, who also happened to be his stalker as well as his friendly next-door neighbour with the ability to walk through walls; one really shouldn't forget that very vital piece of information.

"Tyki," he said as he entered the kitchen. "I've got two questions."

Tyki looked up from his place by the stove. "What is it, Boy?"

"One: why didn't you wake me up?" Allen took a seat at the table. "Two: what's for breakfast?"

Tyki turned off the stove, amused as ever. "One: You were simply too cute so I couldn't help it..." He turned around, placing a plate in front of him. "Two: bacon and eggs."

Allen looked up at him for a moment before looking down at the plate, confirming that Tyki had indeed spoken the truth, at least in regards to the food. Still, Allen found himself wondering or rather suspecting that there was a slight possibility that Tyki might've put something in his drink the previous night. On the other hand, even though the man was his personal stalker, Tyki still hadn't done or attempted to do anything too serious or too traumatizing to him. There were no bugs and no surveillance cameras as far as Allen himself was aware; there was some following around every once in a while, some hanging out every once in a while, some buying incidents and so on, so all in all, it was nothing serious. Or rather, things had improved drastically once Allen had requested that the other wouldn't oh-so-casually come waltzing into his room unannounced, since Tyki could walk through walls and all. Then again, on the other hand, Allen had seen the insides of Tyki's closet…

It had been during one of the first times when Tyki had invited him over – bribing him with food as always – when Allen had been left on his own for a couple of minutes that he had accidentally uncovered what was presumably the full extent of Tyki's obsession. He had – acting out of sheer curiosity – opened up a door that had looked as though it was harbouring some kind of dark secret – which it was, technically speaking – and thus he had shed some light on Tyki's hobbies – or obsessions rather, depending on personal preference and perspective.

Initially – and quite understandably – Allen had been pretty shocked that all the walls in the aforementioned closet had been covered with photographs of him.

Nowadays however, Allen just found himself wondering as to why not all of the walls in Tyki's home were covered with pictures, since Allen had actually been bold enough to ask just how many pictures Tyki actually had of him.

The answer being?

Approximately four or five hundred and still counting apparently, even though it was a very rare occasion for Allen to actually see Tyki holding a camera. Coming to think of it, Allen found that he might actually be forced to reconsider the whole surveillance idea, since Tyki did have this creepy ability to appear wherever he went. Or maybe that was because Tyki did know where Allen went and deliberately followed him there?

It didn't sound credible, because obviously, no human being could possibly be that bored. Then again, Tyki Mikk was an exception, because it was not a really common attribute to possess the talent to pass through walls and other decidedly solid materials, and considering the latter, it was entirely possible that Tyki Mikk wasn't human after all. Then again, if there was a need to go down that path, then Allen himself – particularly with his left arm being the way it was – occasionally doubted that he could classify as a human – well, not as a normal one at any rate.

Checking the time, Allen finished his breakfast, giving a brief thanks for the food before making his way towards the door.

"You seem to be in a bit of a hurry," Tyki remarked. "Got anywhere you need to be?"

"I have an appointment," Allen responded, his hand already pressing down the door handle. "I have to get my stuff."

"That part-time job again," Tyki scoffed. "And here I thought that I might even have you all to myself…"

"It's Saturday," Allen responded, slamming the door shut behind him as he exited. "Saturday is always a working day…" he added with a mutter.

He went over to his own apartment, trying the handle. It was locked and somehow he didn't have the key. His eyebrow twitched. That bastard Tyki had obviously stolen the key in order to force him – Allen, that is – to get back inside and to play a game in order to get it back. It had happened before after all, so it wasn't as though there wasn't a reason to suspect the guy.

I don't have time for this.

He placed his palm onto the door before looking around, making sure that no one was watching before he once again turned his attention towards the door. Closing his eyes, he focused – briefly but intensely – and soon enough, he heard a small click, and as he tried the handle, the door opened, allowing him to enter; it was a handy trick, truth to be told, though he rarely found much practical use of it, except in situations like these.

Entering his apartment and pulling the door shut behind himself, he leaned towards it, closing his eyes as he took a deep breath.

There was still something out there – something lurking around the corner – someone watching him; those exorcists perhaps, though on the other hand, it could be pretty much anyone, all things considered. Either way, Allen didn't like it. In fact, he never liked leaving the safety of his humble abode to venture outside when he felt this stared at; he felt strangely vulnerable then, and he didn't like feeling that way. On the other hand though, it wasn't as though he would usually hold onto that feeling for all that long anyway.

Walking up to his writing desk, he picked up his backpack from the floor where he had left it upon his return from his last assignment the previous week. Heaving it onto his shoulder, he made his exit, locking the door behind himself just in case before venturing down the stairs and out into the street.

His destination was pretty much on the other side of town, so he could either take the bus or the tube to reach it. Deciding on the latter, he picked up his pace and – combining his sheer skill with his other abilities – managed to get through the whole ticket system without paying, which was dead useful, since all he really had to do was to mess around a bit with the system, moving about like a ghost.

Arriving just in time to catch the train, he took a seat next to the door whilst scanning his surroundings. There were unusually few people around, but one of them – a black-clad woman – sat down next to him, staring blankly in front of her.

As soon as the train started moving, Allen tilted his head to one side, watching the one sitting next to him through the reflection seen in the opposite window. "You look sad…" he quietly noted.

She looked up, turning to look at him. "My brother was executed," she said, looking down at her knees. "Don't I have the right to be sad?"

Allen continued looking at the reflection. "I wasn't questioning your right to be sad; I merely stated that you look sad," he said, his voice remaining very quiet. "But even if you're sad, your brother's already dead, just like you…"

"I'm waiting for him to come and get me," she responded, continuing to look down at her own knees. "I'm waiting."

Allen tilted his head to the other side. "Your brother has already moved on," he then said, averting his eyes briefly so that he could study his surroundings further and in order to confirm that he did not have any unexpected audience, for obvious reasons. "It's no use waiting for him anymore…"

He looked back, and she was gone. Sighing, he tilted his head back to its original position.

The Underground wasn't exactly his favourite place to be, since indeed, it was a very haunted place. Nevertheless, that much was to be expected due to all the cemeteries and crypts that had been dug out in order to make way for it. Indeed, it wasn't his favourite place, but not because of the ghosts, but rather because of the excessive amount of surveillance. Then again, nowadays, London had a whole lot more surveillance than people like Allen would have liked it to have, mainly because it greatly increased the risk of getting caught doing something one shouldn't.

It really wasn't the same as with human witnesses; those occurrences could all be blamed on a funny thing called imagination. Recorded evidence on the other hand proved just a tiny bit harder to explain, especially so since Allen – unlike the so called exorcists of the Black Order – did not have people watching his back, forging and destroying the so called evidence whenever it proved necessary.

Nevertheless, the London Underground did have one advantage making it worthwhile; the people who worked there were usually so used to weird stuff happening so that they simply failed to notice that one or two mysterious individuals slipped in and out of it every once in a while. This obviously meant that Allen would technically speaking be able to get through the ticket hall even without fiddling with the machines if he simply pretended to be a ghost. Then again, if he failed on some occasion, then it would most certainly prove problematic, since he would rather prefer to keep his record as clean as he possibly could.

It was obviously different for Tyki Mikk though, seeing that the latter had an affinity for playing a ghost with that ability of his; however he had come across said ability in the first place.

As for the latter, Allen definitely did not mean to pry, just as Tyki did not mean to pry into what had taken place in his life prior to them ending up as neighbours. They lived in the present and not the past, headed for a decidedly uncertain future.

Ever since childhood, Allen had been able to see and communicate with spirits. Initially, he had come to fear them, but later, upon facing the reality which had so coldly rejected him, he sought comfort in the world of the unseen. He was a part of both worlds; the normal and the paranormal one; of both, yet of neither, due to his abilities to see and interfere with them both. And – though he wasn't all too keen on admitting it – in the end, he and the exorcists were much alike in some ways, but differed greatly in others. He too possessed the ability to exorcise spirits and various types of entities, but unlike the exorcists – who did it relentlessly, due to a strict sense of duty and given orders – Allen himself did it for money or whenever it proved convenient for him.

As a general rule, Allen preferred living an easy life. If spirits bothered him, he either shooed them away or exorcised them. As a matter of fact, he often found himself wishing that the same principle could be applied to humans. However, killing people was obviously a crime whilst exorcising spirits was not; sometimes this was a good thing, and sometimes this was a pity, as Allen had met many dead people who likely deserved to live far more than many of those who were still alive.

Sometimes – in his darkest moments when it felt as though the whole world was his enemy – he found himself despising humanity for its cruelty hiding in the disguise of loving and caring. But he battled it with indifference rather than hatred, since if he did things the same indiscriminate way that they did, then he too would be just like them, and since he harboured no such desire, he did not.

Having reached his intended station, he got up from his seat and stepped somewhat closer to the door, waiting to be allowed to exit. Lifting his gaze briefly, he registered this big black shadow figure reflected in the windowpane, momentarily freezing at the sight of it. Quickly, he threw a glance over his shoulder, but found no one standing there, and then, looking back at the eerie figure reflected in the flat surface, he looked and then he looked past it, pretending that he hadn't seen it as he made his way out of the train and then the station, keeping his eyes trained straight ahead whilst trying not to focus on anything.

Having made it out, he stole a brief glance at the cloudy sky before he once again lowered his gaze, levelling it upon the people walking about – most of them being tourists from the looks of it, heading either to shop or to visit various historical sites – before cutting his way through the occasional crowd. Hoisting his backpack further up onto his shoulder, he continued to scan his surroundings even though he paid very little heed to the people moving about in his immediate vicinity. Eventually however, he came to a stop, letting out a troubled sigh.

Reaching into his pocket, he procured a small GPS-device. The latter was certainly necessary, since though Allen had quite a range of abilities if he just put his mind into it, a keen sense of direction was not included amongst his many talents. Truth to be told, he occasionally doubted that it had even existed in the first place, or thought that it was somehow defunct. Over the years, people in his surroundings had gradually reached similar conclusions, but had ultimately proven unhelpful seeing that he had been forced to obtain the GPS-device all on his own.

Staring down at the display, he was able to confirm what he had already suspected, namely that he was running out of battery again. Returning it to his pocket, he quietly cursed the fact that he had forgotten to bring some extra batteries along, and then proceeded to scan his surroundings again, just in case his usually ever-present stalker just happened to be able to loan him some, but no, said stalker was just never around whenever Allen actually found himself in need of the other's existence… and of spare batteries.

"Allen Walker, I presume?"

He turned his head slightly, levelling his eyes on the one who had spoken.

It was a man with dark skin, a weird haircut and – by the looks of it – a pair of unfocused and presumably also unseeing eyes.

"Supposedly, that is me," Allen responded after a moment's worth of silence, a fleeting smile adorning his features as he shook the proffered hand. "Are you the one who requested my services?"

"No." The other gave his hand a slight squeeze. "I'm just the organist, Noise Marie."

"It's a pleasure." It wasn't.

"Come. It's not far," Noise Marie said, already on his way. "I'll explain the details once we get there."

Allen said nothing as he followed the supposedly blind man through the streets; politeness was always a trait that Allen knew that other people appreciated, and it was a good one to possess whenever one either dealt with clients or with potential clients. Indeed, his smiling face was merely a mask that he wore in order to obtain what he wanted, and his smiles were normally either the shallow sort or the kind that appeared whenever watching the recent misfortunes of his enemies, but most people either failed to realise that or merely choose to ignore it; he didn't particularly care all that much about whether it as one thing or the other though, truth to be told.

"We're here now," Noise Marie announced, as they had arrived outside the gates.

Whilst the other fiddled with the padlocks, Allen lifted his gaze, tilting his head slightly backwards so that he could take in the whole place – the church – before the wrought iron gates were pushed open to allow them entry. "A place as merry as the grave…" Allen mumbled as he followed his guide and ascended the stairs, arriving at the top of them just as the other unlocked the double door.

"There's certainly a reason for that," Noise Marie responded, pushing one of the doors open and being awarded with a distinct creaking sound for his efforts. "This place has been closed down for… how long has it been? The last two months or so, maybe…"

Two months?

More due to his line of work than due to any religious conviction, Allen had visited many churches throughout his life. However, it was pretty safe to say that this one was one of the darker ones that he had ever entered. Calling it gloomy would have been a grave understatement, because the air was stale yet strangely saturated; with grief if nothing else. As he entered, it was already blatantly obvious that some sort of tragedy had taken place at this particular location; he didn't need to see the broken stained glass window to know and neither did he need to see the large crucifix that had fallen down onto the altar and broken in two.

Then again, there was also the old chandelier which lay on the floor right in the middle of the aisle. Even without looking too closely at it, he could tell that it positively reeked of negative energies.

"What happened?" he asked as he stepped inside, even though there really wasn't any need to ask, with his job being to resolve matters rather than to investigate them outright.

"I was here when it happened," Noise Marie explained, staying his ground, voice lowering slightly. "It was during a wedding."

Irony.

"The chandelier fell down onto the young couple."

Indeed?

"The bride died."

Ouch.

"And the groom was crippled."

Double ouch.

"Since then, this place has been empty."

Understandable.

"People seem to believe that it brings bad luck simply to enter this place nowadays…"

Allen tilted his head slightly to one side, vaguely recalling having heard something of the sort. Surely, there had been a public outrage in the newspapers, with big black headlines demanding actions. Apparently, this wasn't the first time that tragedy had struck in this particular church. Over the years, there had been several similar occurrences, but this was the first one that had had a fatal outcome. Still, that people would actually heed such advice was nearly mindboggling, because there were always people out there who were curious to a fault and who would enter places such as these, to either prove or to disprove the rumours surrounding the location.

All in all however, Allen found that there was another point of interest and turned so that he was once again looking at Noise Marie where the man remained at the entrance, seemingly with no intent of advancing any further. "Exactly how good is your hearing?"

"My hearing is excellent." Noise Marie smiled a bit, albeit bleakly. "I can hear the rhythm of your very heart, as well as the screams from the other side…"

Allen said nothing, waiting for the other to continue.

"I cannot do anything…" the other said. "I can hear spirits pleading for assistance, but in the end, it is a kind of assistance that I can't give…"

Well… "Is that why you called me?"

"I am not the one who called you," Noise Marie said, straightening up slightly where he stood in the doorway. "It was my employer – or former employer if you like – who sent the request…"

Well…

"You aren't the first though," the other went on to explain. "At my employer's request, I contacted others, but when they learnt about the location, most refused to even come and have a look and the rest turned around and left once they had…"

Well…

"As you have probably figured out, it is not common practice for us to offer up such substantial rewards. However, as you should be able to tell, my employer is running out of viable options…"

Well… "Employer, eh?"

"Unfortunately, those are all the details that I may share." The other shrugged mildly, appearing apologetic. "Client confidentiality and all."

Allen's eyes narrowed slightly, but only briefly. Then, he averted his eyes, surveying his surroundings instead and taking in the atmosphere with renewed interest. "As long as I get paid, I really see no need to pry."

Marie nodded. "Take care," he said, stepping out and moving to push the doors back shut, leaving Allen alone in the dimming afternoon light seeping in through the windows.

Finally left to his own devices, Allen shrugged off the backpack, pulling out a few necessary items along with a lighter. "I suppose it's time to get to work..."

- o0o -

One candle. Two candles. Three candles. Four candles. Five candles.

They were all set out in a perfect circle around him where he sat on the floor in the space between the fallen chandelier and the broken crucifix, rapidly sifting through the pages of the old leather-bound tome that he pretty much always brought along with him.

In a way it had been a gift, and in another, it was stolen goods; the great-granddaughter of its former owner had been his client, insisting upon that he would come in and cleanse the old house of the old crone, who had by no means been in any kind of a hurry to leave it all behind. Persuading the latter had proven a lengthy process, especially so once he learnt how the aforementioned great-granddaughter had been stealing from the house for a lengthy period of time and that she had been planning on selling not only the property itself but also the lands surrounding it to property developers; selling off what had been her family's estate for more than a century simply because of a drug habit and a gambling addiction.

Back then, Allen had ultimately done what he had been contracted to do, but he had also sought out and presented evidence of the wrongs that his client had committed against her relative. For his efforts, the old crone had said that he could have the book, but since business transactions with the dead were not normally accepted amongst the livings, it was ultimately stolen goods; stolen but definitely useful. Then again…

A clattering sound from somewhere further away in the church caught his attention, but he continued reading for a bit. Then, having stalled enough, he looked up, locking eyes with the ghostly figure standing right outside of the circle. "Hello," he greeted it without enthusiasm. "May I help you?"

Saying nothing, the ghost stared at him. Allen returned the stare, taking in her dress – a torn white wedding dress – and the raw emotions radiating from her features before he resumed reading. "What can I do for you, Claire?" he asked again, turning another page.

The rustle of her dress was heard as the ghost moved around the circle, still looking at him.

"You cannot touch me," Allen told her as she backed off a bit, disappearing into a sudden darkness which had gathered inside of the building, making it seem as though it was night time even though Allen knew well that it was still fairly early in the afternoon. "I will not lower this barrier until you've told me what you want…"

Suddenly, there was a voice from the darkness. "Where is Mark?"

"Mark isn't here." Allen looked back up, trying to locate the ghost but failing to do so as negative energies began coming into contact with his barrier, giving off an almost sizzling sound. "You're dead, Claire. You're dead. Mark isn't coming back here. You'll just have to go ahead…"

Now, Allen found that he could practically see the shadowy hands clawing at the barrier, trying to breach it; this was not the work of Claire alone, but rather the work of something greater; something darker.

"Where is Mark?" the voice repeated, sounding eager, sounding sad; heartbroken.

"Mark isn't here," Allen repeated. "Mark won't come here. You'll have to wait for him on the other side."

Dark hands reached for him again as he slammed the book shut, putting it aside.

His skill in the art of exorcism was – as some of his clients had put it – rather unique in the sense that his technique drew inspirations from many teachings, with him having taken all that he deemed useful from a whole lot of different disciplines, adapting them to be more suited for his personal technique. Regular Catholic exorcism, eastern magic, modern witchcraft and Native American ideas and various other ideas; they all mixed with each other.

In the past as well as in the present, he had been told that this approach of his was highly contradictory. Similarly, he had also been told that this approach of his was indeed interesting. Regardless of how it really was, he was satisfied with it as long as it proved efficient.

So, in short, as long as it worked, anything would do for him. To him, any weapon was useful as long as it had some sort of desirable effect. After all, he had abandoned the teachings of purity and innocence a long time ago, and the normal world wasn't always a beautiful place and neither was the paranormal one.

The sizzling intensified once again and Allen opened his eyes, watching as one of the candles started flickering. It seems like we're up against something fairly powerful this time…

Allen's hand went into his backpack again, pulling out a small bottle of clear liquid.

Holy water; now that was the stuff, at least in the Christian part of the world.

Removing the cork, he poured the water into a small bowl he had set up earlier for that specific purpose. Then, he carefully put his right hand into the water for a moment, soaking it briefly before pulling it out again, sprinkling the liquid that lingered on his hand into the air.

"You cannot enter. You shall not enter. Not now. Not ever. Not without permission. Not without my permission. The barrier shall hold. It shall never be breached. I will not let it be breached. In the name of God or whoever you believe in, you shall not cause me any harm in any way. If you seek to harm me, then I will do the same to you. The darkness cannot stay forever. Daylight must come some day. Let the rays of light shine on this place and burn away the darkness which have resurfaced in your soul. Cleanse yourself and move on. Do not try to drag the living to your side. Claire. In the name of God or whomever you believe in, I don't give a damn about your tragedies in life or in death. You're dead, so get over it. Move on. If you stay here then you'll never return to Mark's side. Claire. You're dead, so get over it. Move on, so that you may reunite with the one you love. Do not let the entity that caused your demise have power over your soul. You're free now. You're free, so move on. Claire…"

Allen dipped his hand into the water again before pulling it out, reaching towards one of the candles. He put it out using his bare fingertips, thereby opening the barrier. The ghost stood still, watching him from a bit further away as the darkness surrounding it retreated a bit.

"In the name of God or whoever you believe in, I'll set you free." he said as he rose to his feet and pulled the glove off of his left hand, uncovering the glowing green cross embedded in his palm. "In the name of God or whoever you believe in, I'll set you free."

He raised his hand towards the opening in the barrier, holding his hand out palm upwards towards the ghost as it moved closer. Ethereal fingers – more like a cold breath – ghosted against his hand. Upon making direct contact, his left eye suddenly began hurting, as it usually did whenever he was involved with the paranormal. He paid it no heed however, choosing to focus more on sending the spirit off to whatever lay ahead. "Mighty spirits of old, shed some light to this lost soul, send a ray to guide it though the tunnel, to the afterlife," he went on to say as the ghostly fingers tightened around his hand, digging into his flesh. "In the name of God or whoever you believe in, I'll set you free."

The cross embedded in his hand lit up, spreading an almost ethereal glow around the darkened church before the glow slowly began fading and the ghost itself faded away along with it. The cross in his palm was still glowing, but soon the shadows that had been on the retreat began reaching for him again.

A gust of wind came out of nowhere and ruffled his hair, causing the flames of the remaining lit candles to flicker. Outside of the barriers, the darkness almost appeared to be breathing as yet another gust of wind blew past him, sending chills down his spine. He remained steadfast though, turning his hand facing forward with the cross glowing. "You cannot touch me."

One candle was blown out. "You cannot hurt me."

Another candle was blown out. "You have no power over me."

The wind picked up, like a howling voice screaming at him. "Come…"

Allen looked up at the shadow, his eyes widening slightly as the voice calling out to him proved uncannily familiar. "Come…"

"Mana?"

Something cold brushed against his back and he felt as though someone had placed a pair of hands onto his shoulders. "Allen…"

He knew this feeling; the feeling of his energy being drained from him, being sucked up into the black mass hovering over him. Allen's eyes hardened as another round of pain resonated within him, concentrated around his left eye. "You aren't here," he said, his voice a mere whisper. "You can't be…"

Don't look around, don't look around, don't look around…

It was just an illusion, it couldn't be real; he would be a fool to fall for it, he would be a fool if he…

It's just a trick…

It was just a trick and he knew it; it – whatever it was – was merely out to screw with his head, and he knew as much. Still…

Allen's heart began pounding at an alarming rate. However briefly, he had let his guard down; he wasn't prepared for this, not for this kind of thing. Don't fall for it, don't fall for it, don't-…

Those hands again, carefully manhandling him as if they were urging him to turn around, to have a look, to prove that he acknowledged the fact that it was there…

It's just trying to mess with your head…

There was something watching him; something flashing by in the corner of his eye. Don't look, don't look, don't turn around!

Then there was another gust of wind and the remaining candle was blown out.

He exhaled slowly, steeling himself for the onslaught.

- o0o -

"Uncle Mana!"

The familiar figure turned around, as always with a warm smile on his face. He was kind, far too kind to be real. He was precious, far too precious to be; his father in every sense but blood, but who had always refused to be referred to as such.

"Uncle Mana!"

The warm feeling changed into one of utter dread as a searing pain cut through him. Blood was oozing from the left part of his face, but he wasn't screaming because of the pain. He reached out to the person who had turned around, facing away from him, and his eyes grew desperate.

"Don't go!"

- o0o -

The stone floor; it was cold and hard against his back where he woke up, blearily taking in the darkened ceiling somewhere high above him. Blinking, he tried to clear his vision. Having little progress overall, he rolled over onto his side, trying to recall what had just taken place. Coming up with nothing of any particular relevance though, the brunt of his attention was soon stolen away by the cross in his palm, which still glowed eerily in the darkened church. Is it over?

Getting to his feet, Allen had a distinct feeling that he was forgetting something, but he shrugged it off without much thought. After all, this wasn't the first time that a similar thing had occurred; things must've gone a bit out of hand and he must've blacked out at the end, but as they had seemingly resolved themselves anyway, there really wasn't much of a need for him to bother with it any further.

Feeling a bit tired, he sat up and shook his head, collecting his items that still lay scattered around on the floor. What had really taken place didn't matter all that much anyway; as far as he could tell, the negative energies had been neutralized and Claire had moved on, so in short, it was a job well done, even though the later part of it still was a bit fuzzy.

Allen's philosophy in regards to memories was simple; the things one did not wish to remember shouldn't be remembered, and as such, he retained both the freedom and the ability to suppress whatever he wished to suppress, and when it came to bad memories, there were plenty of them that he would rather forget and did his best to do so. As such, churches and chapels were kind of bad to him, mostly in the sense that they caused old nightmares of his to resurface.

He didn't need the past and he had never needed it to begin with. All that mattered to him was the present and – in the longer perspective – the future, and in order to build it, he needed money. The rest was pretty irrelevant, at least at that moment.

A persistent buzzing noise finally caught his attention and he swiftly pulled out his cell phone. "Hello?"

"Boy… do you know what time it is?"

Allen's eyebrow twitched slightly. "No, I don't," he responded after a while. "Would you care to enlighten me?"

"It's half past five in the afternoon," the voice purred. "It's been over six hours since you left. I was getting worried."

"Honestly Tyki, are you my mother or something?" Allen sighed, putting his glove back on. "I have just about finished up here right now… Yes. I'll be heading back home now. Sure, I can find my way back on my own. Yes, I can. No Tyki, there's no need… Yes, I'm perfectly sure that I won't be attacked on my way home… I-…" – At least pretty sure…– "Wait… I have to gather my stuff. I can keep talking to you on the way so really, don't sound all hysterical since it's kind of creeping me out… Yes, Tyki, it does make me uncomfortable… Now, now, what is that supposed to mean?"

After dumping all his stuff into the backpack, Allen slung it over his shoulder and began walking towards the doors, all whilst he continued talking. "What I want for dinner? Oh, anything's good; I'm not that picky about food. What? Oh… In that case, then… pasta. How does that sound?"

Placing his hand onto the door, Allen pushed it partially open and exited it before pushing it closed again. He turned his head, looking towards the setting sun.

The job was done and the money should be wired into his account in no time. And in case it did not arrive as expected, then he had some serious cursing to do.

"You got awfully quiet all of a sudden," Tyki said on the other end of the phone. "Are you alright?"

"Yeah, I'm fine. Just a bit tired…" And feeling like I'm being watched…

"There's one more thing though…" Allen said.

"What is it?"

Allen tilted his head to one side at the sense of urgency in the other's voice. "The Order has been sneaking around again… I think that they'll be making a move soon."

"How soon?"

"I can't say for sure…" Allen responded, wistful. "But it won't be long."

"Is that so? Then get back here now before I go there and fetch you myself."

Allen found himself snickering. "You're acting like my mother again," he said. "Honestly, Tyki. Stop doing that, it's seriously creeping me out…"

- o0o -

"I have submitted my report."

A man wearing a hat and glasses seated behind a desk eyed the paper that had just been slammed down before him and then peered up at the young man who stood there, quite eager to be dismissed from the looks of it.

"Is that so?" the man said, adjusting his hat before taking a look at the written part of the report along with the photographs attached to it. "Kanda, is this all?"

"Oy…" the aforementioned growled. "At least I did my assignment unlike that Baka Usagi."

"So?" the man said, kicking up an eyebrow in response. "What was the problem?"

"He knows that we've been investigating him… and from the looks of it, he won't come willingly."

"Is that so?" the man said a bit thoughtfully, tapping his cheek. "He's been giving you trouble then, Kanda?"

Kanda Yu snorted dismissively, turning on his heel and heading for the door. Before reaching it however, he slowed his steps momentarily before hurrying them along again, slamming the door open and exiting through it, sparing only a brief glance at the one who had been standing next to it, seemingly waiting to be admitted.

"Kanda," the newcomer greeted him calmly, bowing their head slightly.

He returned the greeting without enthusiasm. "Marie, you're late."

- o0o -