What Doesn't Kill You...

Noctis

"We've got enough time to visit one more coven before sunrise." Damon broke the heavy silence in the car. He hadn't trusted Violet behind the wheel. Not since he'd had to use every ounce of his strength to keep her from attacking Alistair. She'd practically been vibrating with rage when they'd left.

Part of him had wanted to let her carve out of piece of Alistair. It certainly would have made up for the painful resurrection and lack of information.

Violet stared silently out the passenger window.

"Okay. One more coven it is. Since I'm not in the mood to be a rabid crowd's entertainment, let's just stop by Magnifique."

The Noctis Coven did not own property in the entertainment district. Theirs was a smaller, less powerful coven than Alistair's. However, they did have the beauty market cornered. There was not a single socialite in town whose hair and skin was not looked after by Remi's staff at Magnifique.

"You must be joking." Violet replied, a ghost of a smile on her lips.

"No, sadly, I'm not. How bad could it be? The worst thing Remi could do at Magnifique is give me a bad hair cut."

The moment they stepped inside the salon, Damon questioned the wisdom of his decision.

"MOOOOOONTYYYYY!!!" Remi squealed, emerging from behind a glossy counter his arms spread wide in greeting. Damon braced himself for the hug he knew was coming. All things considered, it was better than being referred to as Deathless.

"Nice to see you too." Damon gasped out. Sometimes he forgot Remi had the strength of a vampire centuries old, especially when he didn't look a day over 21.

"Oh! You flirt!" Remi waved a hand at him. "And Vi! You're looking menacing as ever." Remi looked hard into her face. "Did you stop by Alistair's tacky nightclub, by any chance? You always get that constipated look when you see him."

"As a matter of fact, we did." Damon replied. "We're actually here on business for Charlie."

Remi rested his hand over his heart. "Le gasp! Our beautiful goddess of Death has sent you out on a dangerous mission?"

Violet chuckled. She couldn't help herself. Remi's melodrama was a welcome change from Alistair. Even Damon was more at ease in this vampire's presence. Since Remi's coven wasn't nearly as powerful as Alistair's, he abstained from the more traditional expectations of a coven leader.

"Well, I've died twice tonight, so I'll say it's pretty dangerous." Damon remarked dryly.

"Oh nooo! Monty! You must be careful. What will I ever do without you?!" Remi wailed dramatically.

"We just have a few questions for you and then we have to get back to the office." Damon gestured at the clock on the wall.

"Yes, yes." Remi beckoned them forward, tossing his long red tresses over his shoulder. "I'll answer whatever questions you have as long as you let me do something with poor Vi's hair!"

Violet reached for her hair held back in a high pony tail. "What about my hair?" She asked defensively.

Remi rolled his eyes. "It's not like it won't grow back! Slowly, admittedly, but it will grow back. Besides, I've got just the style in mind for you."

Violet looked to Damon for input.

Damon shrugged. "Your turn to take one for the team. If the mayor's wife goes to him, how bad could it be?"

"Have you seen her  hair lately?!" Violet hissed.

"I heard that!" Remi called over his shoulder as he readied a station for her. "I warned her curls were a bad look. She gave herself that Chia-pet nightmare." Remi took her hand. "Now sit. I promise you'll love it."

Damon hid a smile at Violet's nervous expression. She looked like a deer in the headlights when Remi whipped out electric clippers.

"So what do you want to ask me?"

Damon watched Remi spray down Violet's hair with water. "Do you know of any Rogues in town?"

Remi bit his lower lip, while clipping a section of Violet's hair to the side. "No. Alistair would have sent a kill order through the Council. All covens would be on high alert to catch a Rogue."

"Damn." Damon muttered to himself. They had a body with vampire fang marks in the morgue, but no Rogue. Then there was...no! He shut down that thought before it could be fully realized. There was no way Isabella could be back without Charlie knowing. Death had been looking for Isabella in particular for years. Ever since she'd made him.

"Any vampires go missing lately?" Violet asked looking up. Her gaze met Damon's in the mirror. She asked the very question that tormented him. A necromancer could force a vampire to bend to her will. Do her bidding.

"Turn your head." Remi angled Violet's head to the left. "Don't move." He switched his electric clippers on.

Violet closed her eyes tight. "Are there?"

"Any of us missing?" Remi thought for a moment. "Well, Elric from Necro hasn't been around in a while. Although, he has a new girlfriend."

"Necro?" Damon inquired with a raised eyebrow.

Remi sighed. "I know, right? Amateurs. They're a smaller, seedier nightclub than Stoker. He brings their performers by to prep for shows."

"Thanks. We'll check into it. You've be really helpful." Damon replied.

"No problem. Anything for you Monty! Now, stop squirming, you might lose and ear." Remi switched all his focus to Violet and her hair.

(Just before dawn)

Violet couldn't stop touching her hair. Remi had given her an undercut on the left side with a pattern of a rose. He'd given the rest of her hair a trim and curled it. It hung in dark waves over her shoulder. He'd kept the purple in her hair and had added a few lavender highlights at the tips.

"Like it?" Damon asked.

Violet froze like she'd been caught with her hand in the proverbial cookie jar. "It's fine." She lowered her hands and tossed her head noncommittally.

"Uh-huh." Damon smirked. As they pulled into the underground parking garage, his phone rang. The screen displayed Miranda's name. "What's up? Got anything else off Ted?"

"Yes...Damon...uh...you're gonna want to see this yourself." Miranda spoke hesitantly.

He frowned. "What are you talking about?"

"Well...uh...he may have been fed on by a vampire, but Ted Flanagan wasn't a failed Turn. He was raised by a necromancer."

Damon's heart thudded in his chest. "What was the mark?" He whispered into the phone. All necromancers left a mark on the people they raised. A mark unique to them. Almost like an artist's signature.

"Damon...it's..." Miranda's voice wavered.

"What was the mark!" He shouted into the phone. His heart beat counted the seconds between his question and her answer.

"A black rose."