Yu Yu Hakusho Fan Fiction ❯ Quoth The Rayvin ❯ Quoth the Rayvin, 'Nevermore' ( Prologue )

An assassin-for-hire is paid to kill the tantei. Her first target is taken down quite easily, and her next she wants dead for something he did to her only weeks ago. Worse- she's a necromancer, a magician hard to beat and even harder to find, someone who operates in shadows and lives in lies. But she's got a contract that could kill her if she doesn't succeed, and she's slowly but surely falling in love with the one who destroyed her last family member. But can it last?

One, yes the title was taken from a poem by Edgar Allen Poe, two, I don't own YYH. Happy?

QUOTH THE RAYVIN

The old businessman looked the woman up and down, just as she did to him. He looked like a hit man finally gone to seed after years of killing for pay. She looked exactly as his friend described her- dark, menacing, with violet eyes that radiated ice and cut to the core of his soul. He could barely bring himself to meet them.

"I have been told that none of your targets are living. Is that correct?"

"Yes, nor are many of my clients." She accurately read his shocked expression and continued, "If you can't pay my price I'll kill you. You hire me at your own risk."

"What's your price?"

"One hundred million yen." He breathed a sigh of relief, but his comfort was short lived as she finished her sentence. "Each. Except for the last one. I'll only require half for him."

"May I ask why?"

"No, but since you already did, I'll tell you that it's a personal grudge. I trust you can collect all of the money by the time I'm finished?" He nodded quickly, his face drained of all color. "I'll keep one of my friends here so you don't feel inclined to procrastinate. I work quickly. Kage?" A shadowy figure appeared before her. It was a black fog with two slits of red light where the eyes would be. Even darker were the black, razor- sharp teeth that glinted through the haze. The old man leapt from his chair with a cry, knocking it over in his rush to put as much distance between him and the ghost the necromancer had conjured. "He'll give you my contract." The folds of her black kimono fluttered as she turned to leave.

The black beast cornered him as he ran, attempting to avoid it, though it became apparent that despite the specter's frightening appearance, it meant no harm. It handed him a small slip of paper, with the words still shining, as though just written...in blood. Her blood. And on it were the words, large and bold; it's script fluid as water and unbroken, 'Quoth the Rayvin, 'Nevermore.''

"I don't understand-" he stuttered, looking up to ask the woman what this was for. But Rayvin was gone, and all that was left in her place was a raven's feather.