Koya stood with Chiana and Lyric, mouth agape. "Wha..you...how..."

She had seen the wards on the coffin before, and had not known what they were for; only that she was not about to find out. She knew shecouldn't break them, and whatever was worth those nasty things, must not be worth finding out about. It never occured to her the curses would be hiding money. Koya was not, in general, one to deal with curses and the like. She was a Witch, and not a black one.

Stammering, she pointed at the coffin, then had to catch herself as, with a simple motion, Lyric had reset all the curses and wards. Like that. Without thinking about it!

Shaking her head, she nodded and stood. She would not got there, she would not ask. The girl was obviously more than she appeared to be. If she could do that, then Koya would wait for a more appropriate time to question her.

Recovering, she cleared her throat, smoothed her skirt, and nodded. "Yes, Lyric, that would be great if you could pick up some things for me. I am sure you are eager to get out of this gloomy shop and into the sun, for a change." She knew the girl did not want her company on this trip, so she did not offer. Instead, she made the girl feel as if she were doing her a favor, instead of the other way around. "I would do it myself, you see, but I am exhausted. Could you pick up some clothes for me? Just casual stuff. All I have is the clothes I would wear to perform in. Oh, and some cherry blossom perfume. Please."

She smiled at Chiana, shrugged, and said. "You girls can pick some things out, I'm sure. I really like both of your tastes. Size 8, okay?" She turned to head towards the back stairs, but paused, smiling warmly. "And Chiana...welcome. I hope that you can find some peace here. Let me know if there is anything I can do for you."

With a nod, she headed up the stairs to her room.

Smoke curled about his head, a misty, unholy halo. His lips curled slightly, delicately painted. Ash peered in through the window, tattooed wrist peeking out of his silk jacket, hands cupped to peer through the window of the store.

Flicking his cigarette away, Ash ran a hand through his slightly curly, shoulder length hair before entering the store. He'd developed a curiousity of dark magic and the associated trappings and talismans. He wore a silver charm about his throat, the symbol of Lucifer.

Clearing his throat, his voice deep, deeper than one would expect from such a slight man. His body was toned, but slender, almost effeminate. His face, that of an angel, or so his latest conquest had crooned. He looked around, inhaling the scent of incensce, a wicked smile hovering on those lips. Fingers touched everything, grazing, brushing, a crystal pocketed with the quickness of a born thief. He wondered if anyone was about.

With a casual toss of his head, those heavenly locks flipped from his eyes. He smiled, extending a hand boasting well manicured and black painted nails. The faint scent of cigarette smoke lingering on his jacket, slight nicotine stains on slender fingers.

"Ash. I am Ash, and I was just snooping. Something drew me here. Perhaps, my dear woman, it was you?" Taking Dalia's hand, he would bow to kiss it. She would notice that she was far taller than he, his stature rather short for a man. Standing in heeled boots, his height topped out at 5'6". The sound of his heeled boots echoed as he turned away, his many hued gaze sweeping the store.

"I come from another world. This place smelled of the church where I was raised. I had to come in, for nostalgia's sake." His smile was enchanting, his voice honey rich and deep, deeper than one would expect from a man of his stature. "There are other women here." He says this as if it is fact, not a question. She would not know if he were inquiring, or telling her what he knew as fact.

Moving to the back, standing before a sample altar, one made by a wiccan, obviously, he would use this same tone once more. "This is not made by you. The other one, perhaps. She is lonely." He did not touch, for he knew the rules of witchcraft, he knew the safety measures, as well. Ash had studied these things he had been accused of as a child, but found far more comfort in Santeria, in Satanism, than in Wicca.

Turning, suddenly, to face Dalia, he smiled again. His eyes sparkling in delight, knowledge shining in them like some secret. "You can help me. I need a place to stay. I think that I can offer something to you that you would deem useful. Shall we sit and discuss it?" His eyes drift to the small bistro style table, set off to the side of the store. His mouth would water for the liqour he knew was behind the counter, the scent musky and dark, amber whiskey smells beneath those stronger scents of coffee.

Koya took one step out of the storeroom and into the back of the shop, and froze. The hair on her arms stood on end, and a thrilling, chilling touch ran from the base of her neck to her tail bone. She shuddered, blinked, and moved cautiously forward.

Hesitating in the doorway to the store front, beaded curtain slowly drawn aside in silence, she watched Dalia and a man she had never seen before laughing, speaking quietly. From the look on Dalia's face, she was interested. In what, Koya could only guess, but she had an inkling it had something to do with what was in his pants, and she didn't mean his wallet.

Lips pursed, brows furrowed in confusion. There was something about him, something....dangerous. And yet, it drew her closer.

She stepped lightly into the store front, keeping silent. She knew Dalia saw her, but the man's profile was all she could see. He seemed intent on Dalia's face, so he probably did not see her. Dalia would not look at her, would not give her presence away. It seemed Dalia always knew what she was thinking, so she sent a thought to her, "I am not here, I do not want him to look. Allow me to listen, there is something about this man."

She stood as still as a statue, hidden in the shadows of the stairs and the tall case holding the candles. his voice was deep, soft, and it was quiet. She had to get closer.

She moved then, one slow step at a time to stand beside the coffin and skeleton, peering through the shelves that held spell kits. His voice was audible now, his profile clearer. Koya hid, and listened.

Dalia could not help but laugh, this one knew her. She smiled, nodding, and listened to his proposition. She glanced at Koya from the corner of her senses, not daring direct eye contact as Ash would surely know he was being watched. She smirked at this, for she knew he probably already did.

Lifting her own glass to her lips, she sipped, and concealed a wince. She had never quite gotten used to the bit of whiskey, perfering instead the subtler port and wines that graced her private cellar. The glass was placed on the table, she swirled the liqour about, watching the oily waves. "Yes, you may be right. She is most fascinated by you, Ash. You are right, as well, about the neighbors." She thought about the impact he may have on her control over the women in her home, her "harem", as she liked to think of it.

Slender fingers ran circles around the rim of her glass, lips pursed in thought. Her psi senses scanning him for anything, and coming up against a brick wall. What the hell, she could always dispatch him later.

Extending her hand, eyes twinkling with mischief and a bit of humor, "Welcome to Dalia's Dark Side, Ash. You may take the room beside Koya's." Standing, she motioned Koya from the shadows. "Koya dear, please come out and meet our new partner. Mr. Ash..ah, what did you say your full name was, my pet?"

Koya swallowed the lump in her throat, her eyes locked with Ash's as she stepped forward and bowed before him in the tradition of her family. Once she had risen, she extended her hand to him.

"Koya Ran. It is a pleasure to meet you."

She watched Chiana go, wishing the woman would stay. She had come to think of her as their enforcer, as their protection. Chiana was so much stronger than any of them, Dalia not included of course. Koya had come to rely on Chiana's presence here, feeling far more secure with the woman in the room beside her.

She shook off the thoughts, her smile more sincere as she looked him in the eyes.

She would have blushed had she not been so entranced with his eyes. She would have been jealous of his attentions toward Chiana if she hadn't grown to like the obstinate, mouthy, stubborn, and coarse woman so much.

She smiled, using all her will power not to titter and the kiss on her hand, and nodded. Finding her soft voice, she retrieved her hand and turned to lead him upstairs.

"If you would follow me, Mr. Avarice. I will show you to your room."

So Dalia had gathered another clan of groupies. Hmm...

Mara hovered, bodiless, outside the windows. She watched, wondering if she snuck in, if it would trigger some of Dalia's security. She knew ways around them, having developed all the old wards herself, but was not sure if Dalia had implemented any new ones.

Taking a risk, she pressed through the window and waited, watching Dalia for any signs of alarm. None. Good.

Mara was bodiless, but no less alive than any of the other human girls in this house. She'd been brought back from the dead by the woman who'd killed her, at the expense of her own sister. Dalia was going to pay. But she was going to get Mara her body back, first.

Time to wait, and to watch.

Zillah hovered, watching his beloved Mara. He could see her essence, the cloudiness and colors of her aura as it had been in life. He knew then, what a tragedy and curse his sister had wrought for her. She was not the living dead, but she was the bodiless living, a Formless Being.

Sadness welling in him, for he truly did love her, as he watched. He could intervene, for he knew she meant his dearest sister harm, but he couldn't bring himself to manifest for Dalia, to warn her. He wanted Mara happy, if anything else. She could not kill Dalia, so he, too, would wait and watch.