[Heavily adapted from live play with Eden and Ransom's writers. Thanks to both!]
Tuesday February 7th, 2017
People were leaving the city.
Stay away on the fourteenth. It was Salvador who’d warned him, already planning a departure with Canaan, and though Mesteno had been dubious to begin with, his brother’s insistence had finally persuaded him the threat was one he needed to take seriously. It would take more than a minor protest group to shut down Matadero and convince local bigshots to consider humans more than a laughable nuisance.
By chance alone, Eden and Ransom had arrived at the Red Dragon shortly after he’d received the news, and Mesteno hadn’t deliberated before passing the warning on to the couple, albeit a little lacking in the details. He hadn’t been at all surprised when Miss Harrington had contacted him to arrange a meeting at the docks, and there beneath winter-gray skies they’d gathered, out of earshot of the sailors, urchins and fishwives, an overgrown mutt standing guard.
"You couldn't pick somewhere a little warmer?" A complaint for a greeting. Mesteno had wedged his hands in his pockets and perched on the table that was their meeting point, huddling down as best he could into a suede, shearling lined coat.
"She's hot-blooded," Ransom replied with an off-center smile for Mesteno. "She can't help herself." He tipped his sunglasses down with one finger and eyed Eden as she finished lavishing the dog with affection.
"We could have popped down to Earth, met up in Florida or somewhere warmer." She winked.
Ransom held out his closed fist for the dog to smell, and was rewarded with an equally raspy and slobbery drag of canine tongue. "I vote for Fiji," he put in. He looked a bit paler than normal today. Perhaps it was the weak, watery sunlight.
"You could do with some sun." Mesteno pointed out tactfully, having studied the couple without a lick of shame.
"Yeah, hear that, babe? I guess we need another vacation or somethin'." A dimple appeared in Eden’s cheek. She’d given Mesteno a pretty thorough once over too, before shoving her hands back in her coat pocket. "I bet your legs are as pale as Ransom's face is," she decided, eyeballing him with amusement before finally, getting down to business. "So I'm sure my call wasn't all that unexpected--and thanks for meetin' up with us. But busybodies gotta know...what the hell is goin' on around here on the fourteenth?"
"I'd say we've got an opportunity for a trip coming up soon," Ransom remarked. After all it was sort of why they were here. That message for them to stay out of town. He moved to prop himself up against the railing, turning his body toward the crowd so he could keep an eye on everything.
"It really wouldn't be a bad idea to take the trip then," Mesteno admitted, smile evening out to something more customarily grim while Bear, having accepted affection wherever it was doled out, automatically adapted his behaviour to the necromancer's tone of voice, watchful again, and looking all at once nothing but menacing. "You've been aware of the riots, the violence, the explosion a couple of days ago," because he didn't doubt some of it would have reached them, either via word of mouth or the usual news channels.
"It's been a little hard to not hear about all that, yeah," Eden’s reply came with an affirmative nod on Ransom’s part, his smile quick to fade.
Mesteno kept his voice low when he continued, even though there was no one obviously in hearing range. "I got word the night I saw y'both that the fourteenth is when the trouble's gonna get city wide. The anti non-human faction are intending full-scale violence. I questioned the validity of the source, but the guy's pretty legitimate, and when it gets to the point that people I know are capable of handling themselves are making themselves scarce, it's better to take the threat seriously." He offered no names yet, but then they hadn't asked for any! "If it's not more explosions, it could be what someone else suggested, some kind of biological warfare we don't know how to combat yet."
The more she heard from Mesteno, the more Eden frowned. "Yeah, see, that worries me. Paiva and Paul are gonna be workin', I checked with the both of them, and if it goes biological, then that'll affect everyone. Right? I mean...are things that serious with all this that this faction would unleash somethin' that could hurt a lotta innocent people? We've already started tellin' people who could be affected, but I'm wonderin' about those who stay." She glanced at Ransom a moment, then back to Mesteno. "To be honest, I'm kinda surprised that anyone you know is makin' themelves scarce." She knew most of the folks he was friends with could defend themselves well! Maybe that was a hint for names.
Ransom was also keeping an eye on the others passing by, but Eden and Mesteno had his ear. A frown pressed a dent of shadow between his eyes and turned the corners of his mouth downward.
"What are they planning to do?” he asked, “Put silver nitrate in the water? Use magic to hex everything not human?" He grunted and gave another sharp nod, agreeing that they'd begun warning people they knew. "What I'm curious about is counter measures."
Mesteno didn't even consider suggesting that Eden persuade the firefighters to abandon their duties for that evening, even if it would have been the easy way out. Instead the news twisted his expression into a grimace. "If it is biological, I guess they’ll have tailored whatever it is to avoid it harming anything with the right DNA. That said, the way they've been hounding sympathizers too makes me question if they'd even bother with that." It was Ransom's remark about the counter-measures earned the other man an approving look of course, but Mesteno could only offer a shrug. "The guy that has the dossier on all this is Alain deMuer, local bigshot with political and, from what I can gather the right kind of spy links. I'm considering contacting him to see whether there's anything being arranged on the anti-terrorism front. Or you know, just picking off whoever he's identified as a ringleader."
Eden glanced between the men while she listened, filing away details. "Well, 'not human' brings up the semantics of the whole thing, doesn't it." Eden did not phrase it as a question. "I mean, you know about me, Mesteno. Am I considered 'non-human'? Or are they after the shifters and stuff like that? Humans with magic tendencies, what about them? I'm not entirely sure where the line is."
Her question drew a grunt from Ransom. A good one, and an issue close to his heart.
"I dunno who that is." Alain deMuer, Eden meant. "That might not be a bad idea, but they've probably got a second and a third lined up to take the ringleader's place, right? So plans can keep goin' forward? That's what I'd do if I was involved and on the attack."
"I don't know who that is, either," Ransom admitted. "Though I'm not opposed to assassinating the ring-leader, my concern is that we'd make a martyr of him. Or her." He spoke as though the three of them were about to wage war on a rogue terrorist cell all by themselves. "Sometimes that happens. And—yes." He agreed with Eden's assessment of there being a second- and third-in-command. "If we were able to take out all of them in one swoop, though, it might help. Probably means more destruction for the city, though." Another grunt as he shifted his weight against the railing and propped his elbows back on it. The t-shirt pulled against his lean belly, pulled against the tell-tale ridges of weaponry hidden away in the shadow of his jacket. "What I'm talking about, though, is wards. Metaphysical armor. Something like what Andrew does," he said, glancing to Eden. "Something that makes this **** slide right off a person, and opens up a world of hurt for the attacker by the virtue of them being the attacker."
Mesteno’s agreement was all too apparent in the resigned nod he offered to one comment after another. "I'd be shocked if these radical fuckers weren't connected to the Humanity First political group that had a voice in the recent elections for governor.”
"I would be, too," Ransom said, agreeing with Mesteno. "That's the simplest, and most logical, assumption." And thereby probably the correct one.
“And what happened there?” Mesteno went on, “The candidate was injured in an explosion, there were episodes of violence against them via non-humans. It's only got worse since. At the time, they claimed to welcome non-humans who were sympathisers, but this could be some zealot splinter group, and if that's the case, I figure they'll classify anything with preternatural talents 'non-human'." He slouched a little where he sat, elbows on thighs and his breath clouding the air as he sighed. "You're also right about the chain of command, if they're truly an organised group. We'd have to arrange a coordinated attack, likely at multiple locations to succeed, and that's assuming DeMuer has managed to pinpoint everyone involved."
Eden rubbed her brow with her fingers at Mesteno's guess. "That just really...that's not just an incident, it's war. And I can't see the non-humans sittin' back and takin' it. I mean, instead of leavin' the city, what if some of 'em band together and go on a massive counter offensive, like Ransom was sayin'? --I guess sorta like we're talkin' about here. First strike, a coordinated attack." She grunted and pocketed her hand, gaze sweeping behind her over the docks. Ransom and Mesteno both had a view, and she wasn't worried about anyone getting the drop on them, but now she was a little paranoid. "It wouldn't surprise me, either, if the fourteenth is a 'dummy' target. Someone got the info that the attack is then, but it's really the thirteenth or the twelfth, or even the sixteenth or whatever. When everyone bein' targeted is thinkin' they're safe."
"That's a good point," Ransom agreed. "Another reason to be interested in destructive wards and other counter-measures. We don't want people getting caught with their pants down. I wonder how they intend to go about determining who is human and who isn't. Many of the non-human and magically-talented folks around here pass exceptionally well. They stake their lives and livelihoods on being able to blend in."
His tongue moved behind his lips, licking over an incisor. He reached out to snake his fingers under the back of Eden's jacket, catch hold of her belt loop, and pull her back against him where he could give her a squeeze. A little bit of comfort in the face of worrying news. Eden allowed it, nestling in against him as she listened.
"The counter measures are a good idea. It's tryin' to get everything in place for anyone who needs it in time, is the problem,” Eden pointed out. “You know some of the non-human folk around here who hide out aren't gonna just pop up and announce they'd need help."
"I'm not sure I can see the non-human faction taking this lying down,” Ransom admitted. “At least, not in this situation. The corners of his mouth had turned severely downward. "Do you think DeMeur has most of the power structure mapped out and knows their holdings? Maybe we don't need to know everyone, but enough of them."
"Y'know," Mesteno remarked, eyes narrowing on the pair shrewdly, "Y'starting to sound like you got no intention of takin' that trip to Fiji at all.” Not that he could blame them, particularly if there was no way of getting certain siblings out of the city, or indeed, persuading friends with particularly stubborn natures that it wouldn't do to swagger around inviting trouble just to prove they'd no fear of the human faction. "I don't know duMuer well personally," he admitted, "but the right voices have the right opinions of him. If he doesn't have the information yet, I don't doubt he'll be trying to find out what he can. If I do send word, should I be insinuating there are parties interested in helping if he heads up a RhyDin SWAT team?"
Eden flashed a shit-eating grin at Mesteno. "Are you leavin' town?”
Conveniently, Mesteno didn’t answer.
“And no,” Eden went on, “I think I've heard enough to warrant stickin' around. Paiva and Paul could get caught in the cross fire way too easy." Arching her neck, she glanced up at Ransom, then answered Mesteno's latter question without discussing it with Ransom first. She knew what his answer would be anyway. "Uh huh. There are parties interested in helpin' out. I'm in. I haven't shoved grenades down my shirt for way too long now."
"Fiji sounds like an excellent place to go relax and lick the old proverbial wounds." Ransom said, glancing back Mesteno’s way. Or in this case, some very real wounds. He leaned his head to the side, tugged his glasses down, and met Eden's glance. "It's been a whole year," he quipped of her explosive bra stuffing. "I'm in, too." There was likely no doubt of that fact, given the way he'd been talking. And the fact that Eden just declared herself part of the resistance.
Their mutual agreement on the counter-offensive seemed to have solidified Mesteno’s intentions of contacting deMuer. "All right. Assumin' he's not too busy to consider outside offers, and we do get talkin', you better tell me what you want him to know about you both. If he asks me what skills you bring to the table and my tongue's anchored, there's the possibility he's gonna rule us out as liabilities rather than take us in as allies. If he's as thorough as I expect, he'd be runnin' background checks given time."
His attention drifted more firmly to Ransom at this point. He'd never probed him for answers, but something about his stealth, something about those shades on a winter's day, had him convinced he wasn't of the mundane human variety any more than he and Eden were.
Somehow, Eden kept her expression neutral. "Well. I can conjure a crap ton of ghosts, which is good for distraction and-or aid in an attack, and I've got magical ability that might come in handy. I'm definitely not as good at wielding it as others are, but I can do enough to help out." She did not speak for Ransom, choosing to let him answer as he would. But she did regard Mesteno shrewdly as he studied Ransom.
Ransom’s expression was likewise neutral, but he hummed and it did not sound like a happy sound. In fact, the sound he made skewed over into the territory of a growl, and one that wasn't quite human, at that. It left little doubt that he'd not appreciate anyone poking into his background.
Love Letters
Moderator: Mesteno
Re: Love Letters
[Continued...]
"I have some minor magical ability. Not quite as flashy as Eden's, but it could come in handy in a pinch, mostly with stealth, misdirection, and covering our tracks. I'm skilled with blades, firearms, and some explosives. And I have extensive experience in wet work." All of it delivered quietly, coolly.
The necromancer didn't pry, though it was entirely natural for him to feel inclined to do so. What they offered he accepted with a nod that suggested he'd absorbed it all, though he did add, "With a little luck he'll just be happy there's support. Right now I don't even know if the Watch have been informed there's trouble brewing." A good thing, so far as he was concerned, since it wouldn't have been too difficult to infiltrate one of the many precincts with a mole, or perhaps have recruited an established member who'd sympathised with their cause.
Ransom's obvious unease earned the man a lop-sided ghost of a smile. "Relax, I'm not about to interrogate you. Whatever you are is fine with me."
Mesteno's final comment to Ransom made Eden look briefly uncomfortable, a look that passed swiftly. "Yeah, let's hope he's happy with support. I'm guessin' you'll keep us posted?"
Had it been someone else scrutinising Ransom, they may have noted the low, subdermal drone of a tightly-reined, subtle power. It was difficult to say whether it was intrinsic to the man or whether it was masking something about him. Unfortunately, Mesteno was blank to such things, and always would be were the energy not on the particular spectrum he worked with.
Ransom tipped his chin to his chest so he could look at Mesteno over the rims of his sunshades. He regarded Mesteno for several seconds and tongued the roof of his mouth while he picked which words he wanted to use. Finally, he inclined his head, acknowledging (without comment) that Mesteno wouldn't pry. "You can't speak for DeMuer, though." Quietly, almost gently. The other man was apparently well-connected, and was now an issue that Ransom would be thinking about for a while.
"I can't," Mesteno agreed, "but then I could always hand him aliases and there's nothing to dig up." If he'd been aware of the nuances of that power, it didn't show. But then he might just have found such qualities normal in those that he associated with. "What shall we go with? Ewan and Elena Parry?" He was marrying them off, and did it with a shit eating grin before he nodded assurance to Eden. "If anything comes of it, I will keep you posted. Otherwise, I'll be out on the streets that day attempting damage control and I figure you'll probably do likewise."
Despite the grim conversation, Eden guffawed. "Yeah, let's go with that. What do you say, Ewan?" Eden grinned up behind her.
Ransom had managed not to laugh at the aliases, but he did grin widely, showing off white teeth. "I'm down for using that, Mrs. Parry." Droll.
"Aren't you glad I didn't make him a 'Brian'?" Mesteno asked Eden with a wink.
She flashed another grin back and up at Ransom before snickering at Mesteno. "Brian is reserved for you," she reminded him. "Speakin' of 'Ewan and Elena Parry', there's gonna be a Ransom and Eden Chandler soon, June I think, and we're gonna be havin' a reception at a place we're currently building. A dancehall, actually. I hope you can block out some time and come." Mesteno knew her too well! "Yeah, I'm pretty sure we'll be out on the streets that night, too."
Ransom turned his attention back to Mesteno, listening while Eden filled him in on their admittedly happier news. He nodded once, agreeing that they'd be out in the streets, keeping an eye on things.
Mesteno sat up from his slouch, chin untucked from the wrap of his scarf. "Congratulations are in order! Where do I send the singagram freaks to serenade you?" They shouldn't assume he was kidding! His smile was broad and candid though, the news a genuine pleasure amidst all the crap. "I expect you to keep her unrespectable, you know," to Ransom, "and of course I'll make the time. Just tell me where to be and I'll join the rabble." As if all their other guests were going to be equally as unruly.
Eden made the sign of the cross his direction, while Ransom barked a laugh. "I swear, you send a singananything our direction, and I will retaliate." She meant business, although there was a spark of amusement in her eyes. Her hands fell back to her pockets and she leaned heavier against Ransom. "Good, I'm glad you'll be there. And that's pretty much what it'll be, too. Rabble." She laughed.
"Now I'm going to be imagining a choir of clowns singing 'Me Old Ball And Chain'," Ransom said between huffs of amusement. His mouth twisted for the actual content of that song, but it fit with the imagery of what he thought Mesteno might send them. Then he snorted. "***, she keeps me unrespectable." And apparently that was saying something, given his list of 'talents.' Ahem. "We'll both be glad to have you," he told Mesteno then. "There'll be plenty of liquor." Rabble, indeed!
Judging by the face he made at the mention of clowns, Mesteno was no keener to inflict them on anyone than he was to suffer them himself. "I'm not that cruel," he declared ridiculously, since he really was, every bit and more. The promise of liquor helped to erase the inherent clown disgust and he relaxed again, letting Bear do the sentinel work for him. "Save Fiji for the honeymoon, I guess. Just make sure you stay alive to reach June...if you choose to back out for whatever reason, I won't blame either of you," he added. There was a certain child to consider after all.
Eden quirked a grin about the honeymoon, then pretended to scowl. "Not gonna back out, you can count on it. There's just too much at stake, now that I know more about what's goin' on.”
Mirth sliding away at the mention of them backing out of the fight, Ransom added, "We have a lot riding on this and what comes afterward. I'm not sure we can afford to sit this out." They'd just have to be careful for the sake of the child that none of them had mentioned, but who they were all probably thinking of.
“Hey--do you know if these people are gonna be bombing more businesses that day?” Eden asked. “I know it's been goin' on already, but I'm wondering if they're gonna step that aspect up as well."
"I know a few businesses are being shut down temporarily as a result of it. Those that serve non-humans are likely targets so..." Mesteno paused to consider. "Tell Koyan to increase security at his club an' fancy bottom-feeder place." He meant Crustaceans. "Anywhere people're celebrating Valentines that day are gonna be crowded, good targets. Both of those fit the bill," he added, beginning to think the date really could be accurate.
"Maybe that's a good idea,” Eden admitted, “Shutting down. We've got another place right in the thick of things, and we'd had... yeah. Plans and a guest list for Valentine's, all that. What a pain in the ass this is."
Ransom made another of those sounds that was half grunt, half growl. "I was hoping we wouldn't have to. Shut down, I mean. I've got double-features planned for that night at the theatre ..." He broke off to swear under his breath. "I still say we look into wards. Talk to people a little more skilled than us first," he said, directing the latter down to Eden. They'd have to act fast, though. There was just a week left before this shit was due to happen.
The mention of Koyan earned Mesteno a quick nod from Eden. "I'll tell Koyan.” Eden agreed, “Though I'm kinda surprised you didn't call and tell him yourself."
"The evenin' I told you, I'd learned the news about fifteen minutes before," Mesteno admitted. "You guys see Koyan more'n I do and to be honest, I think he'd take it more seriously hearing it from you both. He's..." His expression shifted awkwardly, something in the clench of his teeth and the twitch of muscle at the hinge of his jaw suggesting frustration. "Likely to think my concern overbearing." Perhaps a conclusion he'd reached when his horror over other news had been met with a nonchalance he'd found disheartening. In short, Koyan had been lucky he hadn't tried to knock him in the jaw. Dropping the matter deliberately, he nodded at Ransom's ward idea. "I could maybe help with that. I can manage some that only cause paralysis in those intending harm. It might catch us some bad guys."
"I think you guys should look into that. The wards and whatnot. Sounds like you could lay a few traps and catch some, which might lead to an interesting interrogation session."
"That'd be great," Ransom agreed to Mesteno’s offer. "I've got some tomes to dig into, too. We might be able to find something useful in there." A beat, then he added, "I wonder if you can make a ward respond to a guest list ..." He trailed into quiet thought
Eden paused a moment, then admitted, "I don't talk to Koyan all the time, actually. Just to check up now and then, and to check on a...friend...who's staying at his house." She didn't go into detail. "Okay, so I gotta ask--what the hell happened that he'd think your concern overbearing? I thought you two were pretty close, and that he'd take the information from you more serious than with anyone else." Nosy Eden! Mesteno's expression and teeth clenching were curious, however, and she couldn't let it slide without at least trying to get some information.
Eden was probing for questions, but leaving Mesteno with more curiosity than inclination to answer her! He wondered briefly if she meant the rescued woman he'd gone tracking down in Spain, but loath to risk stepping on toes, held his tongue. "If you haven't told him already, I'll call him," he decided finally, slanting a look at Bear for any indication of trouble.
"I haven't told him yet," she admitted. She'd been sticking to immediate family first. So, Mesteno could have the joy of informing the grump himself.
"I guess I grumbled at him a few too many times for bein' an idiot when there was trouble,” Mesteno confessed. “You know how reckless he is," he offered, which whilst not a lie was certainly omitting things that Ransom knew full well. "We should meet up some time during the week to pick out where to place the wards," he suggested to Ransom. "Maybe I'll have a peer at your books if you happen to bring them along?" So subtle.
"Yeah, he can be that, for sure. Sometimes in Madrid, I was partly sure he was tryin' to put himself in harm’s way on purpose." Her lips quirked in clear disapproval!
Ransom had kept his lips zipped on the subject of Koyan and his recklessness. He did glance between Mesteno and Eden, though, then met Mesteno's gaze—through his sunglasses, of course—at the mention of meeting up. He agreed with a nod. "Yeah, I might bring a couple of books with me." He supposed it was only fair, since Mesteno had shared one of his.
"I'm real glad we got together to talk about things today." Eden’s tone suggested it was both for the good news and the serious.
"Me too," Mesteno admitted, glancing between them. "Really though, the good news made up for all the shit. You two fit real well... just try not to get fat too soon, huh?" He meant pregnant. And Eden, not Ransom, judging by whom he directed that at.
"Me three," Ransom murmured. Another one of those big smiles broke out across his mouth. Despite the danger in coming days, they'd been able to share some good news, and now they had a preliminary plan for how to handle the trouble.
Out of nowhere, Eden said, "We're gonna have to protect ourselves, too. Magic up some kinda somethin' so we don't breathe in anything...ugly that night." She meant so they weren't susceptible to any agents let loose, as Mesteno had suggested. Then she had a salute to give Mesteno about getting fat, all done with one finger! Never mind the humored smirk.
“That's a good point," Ransom murmured of protecting themselves. A hush of laughter for the salute.
"You're not now, right? Lookin' a little less noodley than usual," Mesteno remarked casually, though he laughed as Eden flipped him off, and then slipped back into stoicism all too easily over the protections. "I got nothing to combat that, and I don't know how effective your standard issue gasmasks would be. Tech sector is more likely to have advanced gear though."
Eden snorted, grabbed the hem of her jacket and the sweater beneath, and yanked both up. He was lucky she didn't flash her boobs at him, and really scar him! She stopped well before, flashing skinny ribs and a flat stomach. But still. Girl skin! "What's that now about bein' chubby? Huh? You got more meat on you than I do."
"She stores all her extras in her ass," Ransom said drily. His grin said he approved, though, and while Eden had her sweater up, he reached around her to drag his nails across her lean belly, leaving little red furrows behind, and setting her to laughing again, eeling this way and that for the furrows.
Mesteno had seen more of Eden during the brief spell they'd spent hiding out down in the Warren, back when she'd painted his nails as he slept. Girl belly wasn't going to spook him! "Look't that little pot-belly," he feigned some cooing, just to be an ass, then chuckled at Ransom's remark about her backside.
Eden flashed down the clothing and considered the tech sector--which she had no clue about. "I was thinkin' magic might work better."
"Maybe we can find a way to marry the two together," Ransom suggested. "Or maybe someone we know can figure out a way to do it." He was thinking of the Grump they lived with.
"Mixing them together might work,” Eden agreed. “I should be able to manage that kinda thing myself--but I'm not sure I wanna risk my sometimes questionable skills with somethin' as precious as breathing." She snickered at Mesteno's cooing. "Let us know what you come up with, Mesteno. Or the both of ya." Eden hadn't considered Rhys yet, but she would.
"I think you should try anyhow," Ransom told Eden. Maybe we can test it before then and refine it. We'll ask Grumpy for help."
"I'll let you both know if I come up with anything," Mesteno told them, bright eyed despite the potential warfare.
“All right. I'll fiddle with a few things, see what comes up," Eden decided. Her problem wasn't skill so much as putting her mind to it. "Oh, maybe Rhys and I can work on it together, yeah." She smiled at Mesteno, still amused, and slouched against Ransom again. "
Finally Mesteno slid off the table, backside gone numb from the chill of the wood. "I'm gonna go make a phone call. You two, be careful in the meantime."
Mesteno earned an ear to ear grin. “Y' take care and we'll talk soon." Well before Valentine's day.
"Take it easy, man,” Ransom added, “and be careful out there. Thanks for agreeing to meet with us."
A murmured Latin command brought Bear back from his surveillance, though the animal craned a look up at the couple with a flag-like wave of tail as he skimmed past to take point. "Vale!" Mesteno bid them farewell, heading back the way he'd come.
Ransom reached down to trail a hand along Bear's back as the dog passed by. "So, I guess we stay and fight," he said quietly, summing up the conversation.
Squeezed, Eden nuzzled Ransom's jaw, then met his eyes. "Yeah, we stay. Now c'mon, we’ve got work to do.” She winked, dragging him away, and Ransom let her, an arm slung about her as they made their way back through the dockside.
[End.]
"I have some minor magical ability. Not quite as flashy as Eden's, but it could come in handy in a pinch, mostly with stealth, misdirection, and covering our tracks. I'm skilled with blades, firearms, and some explosives. And I have extensive experience in wet work." All of it delivered quietly, coolly.
The necromancer didn't pry, though it was entirely natural for him to feel inclined to do so. What they offered he accepted with a nod that suggested he'd absorbed it all, though he did add, "With a little luck he'll just be happy there's support. Right now I don't even know if the Watch have been informed there's trouble brewing." A good thing, so far as he was concerned, since it wouldn't have been too difficult to infiltrate one of the many precincts with a mole, or perhaps have recruited an established member who'd sympathised with their cause.
Ransom's obvious unease earned the man a lop-sided ghost of a smile. "Relax, I'm not about to interrogate you. Whatever you are is fine with me."
Mesteno's final comment to Ransom made Eden look briefly uncomfortable, a look that passed swiftly. "Yeah, let's hope he's happy with support. I'm guessin' you'll keep us posted?"
Had it been someone else scrutinising Ransom, they may have noted the low, subdermal drone of a tightly-reined, subtle power. It was difficult to say whether it was intrinsic to the man or whether it was masking something about him. Unfortunately, Mesteno was blank to such things, and always would be were the energy not on the particular spectrum he worked with.
Ransom tipped his chin to his chest so he could look at Mesteno over the rims of his sunshades. He regarded Mesteno for several seconds and tongued the roof of his mouth while he picked which words he wanted to use. Finally, he inclined his head, acknowledging (without comment) that Mesteno wouldn't pry. "You can't speak for DeMuer, though." Quietly, almost gently. The other man was apparently well-connected, and was now an issue that Ransom would be thinking about for a while.
"I can't," Mesteno agreed, "but then I could always hand him aliases and there's nothing to dig up." If he'd been aware of the nuances of that power, it didn't show. But then he might just have found such qualities normal in those that he associated with. "What shall we go with? Ewan and Elena Parry?" He was marrying them off, and did it with a shit eating grin before he nodded assurance to Eden. "If anything comes of it, I will keep you posted. Otherwise, I'll be out on the streets that day attempting damage control and I figure you'll probably do likewise."
Despite the grim conversation, Eden guffawed. "Yeah, let's go with that. What do you say, Ewan?" Eden grinned up behind her.
Ransom had managed not to laugh at the aliases, but he did grin widely, showing off white teeth. "I'm down for using that, Mrs. Parry." Droll.
"Aren't you glad I didn't make him a 'Brian'?" Mesteno asked Eden with a wink.
She flashed another grin back and up at Ransom before snickering at Mesteno. "Brian is reserved for you," she reminded him. "Speakin' of 'Ewan and Elena Parry', there's gonna be a Ransom and Eden Chandler soon, June I think, and we're gonna be havin' a reception at a place we're currently building. A dancehall, actually. I hope you can block out some time and come." Mesteno knew her too well! "Yeah, I'm pretty sure we'll be out on the streets that night, too."
Ransom turned his attention back to Mesteno, listening while Eden filled him in on their admittedly happier news. He nodded once, agreeing that they'd be out in the streets, keeping an eye on things.
Mesteno sat up from his slouch, chin untucked from the wrap of his scarf. "Congratulations are in order! Where do I send the singagram freaks to serenade you?" They shouldn't assume he was kidding! His smile was broad and candid though, the news a genuine pleasure amidst all the crap. "I expect you to keep her unrespectable, you know," to Ransom, "and of course I'll make the time. Just tell me where to be and I'll join the rabble." As if all their other guests were going to be equally as unruly.
Eden made the sign of the cross his direction, while Ransom barked a laugh. "I swear, you send a singananything our direction, and I will retaliate." She meant business, although there was a spark of amusement in her eyes. Her hands fell back to her pockets and she leaned heavier against Ransom. "Good, I'm glad you'll be there. And that's pretty much what it'll be, too. Rabble." She laughed.
"Now I'm going to be imagining a choir of clowns singing 'Me Old Ball And Chain'," Ransom said between huffs of amusement. His mouth twisted for the actual content of that song, but it fit with the imagery of what he thought Mesteno might send them. Then he snorted. "***, she keeps me unrespectable." And apparently that was saying something, given his list of 'talents.' Ahem. "We'll both be glad to have you," he told Mesteno then. "There'll be plenty of liquor." Rabble, indeed!
Judging by the face he made at the mention of clowns, Mesteno was no keener to inflict them on anyone than he was to suffer them himself. "I'm not that cruel," he declared ridiculously, since he really was, every bit and more. The promise of liquor helped to erase the inherent clown disgust and he relaxed again, letting Bear do the sentinel work for him. "Save Fiji for the honeymoon, I guess. Just make sure you stay alive to reach June...if you choose to back out for whatever reason, I won't blame either of you," he added. There was a certain child to consider after all.
Eden quirked a grin about the honeymoon, then pretended to scowl. "Not gonna back out, you can count on it. There's just too much at stake, now that I know more about what's goin' on.”
Mirth sliding away at the mention of them backing out of the fight, Ransom added, "We have a lot riding on this and what comes afterward. I'm not sure we can afford to sit this out." They'd just have to be careful for the sake of the child that none of them had mentioned, but who they were all probably thinking of.
“Hey--do you know if these people are gonna be bombing more businesses that day?” Eden asked. “I know it's been goin' on already, but I'm wondering if they're gonna step that aspect up as well."
"I know a few businesses are being shut down temporarily as a result of it. Those that serve non-humans are likely targets so..." Mesteno paused to consider. "Tell Koyan to increase security at his club an' fancy bottom-feeder place." He meant Crustaceans. "Anywhere people're celebrating Valentines that day are gonna be crowded, good targets. Both of those fit the bill," he added, beginning to think the date really could be accurate.
"Maybe that's a good idea,” Eden admitted, “Shutting down. We've got another place right in the thick of things, and we'd had... yeah. Plans and a guest list for Valentine's, all that. What a pain in the ass this is."
Ransom made another of those sounds that was half grunt, half growl. "I was hoping we wouldn't have to. Shut down, I mean. I've got double-features planned for that night at the theatre ..." He broke off to swear under his breath. "I still say we look into wards. Talk to people a little more skilled than us first," he said, directing the latter down to Eden. They'd have to act fast, though. There was just a week left before this shit was due to happen.
The mention of Koyan earned Mesteno a quick nod from Eden. "I'll tell Koyan.” Eden agreed, “Though I'm kinda surprised you didn't call and tell him yourself."
"The evenin' I told you, I'd learned the news about fifteen minutes before," Mesteno admitted. "You guys see Koyan more'n I do and to be honest, I think he'd take it more seriously hearing it from you both. He's..." His expression shifted awkwardly, something in the clench of his teeth and the twitch of muscle at the hinge of his jaw suggesting frustration. "Likely to think my concern overbearing." Perhaps a conclusion he'd reached when his horror over other news had been met with a nonchalance he'd found disheartening. In short, Koyan had been lucky he hadn't tried to knock him in the jaw. Dropping the matter deliberately, he nodded at Ransom's ward idea. "I could maybe help with that. I can manage some that only cause paralysis in those intending harm. It might catch us some bad guys."
"I think you guys should look into that. The wards and whatnot. Sounds like you could lay a few traps and catch some, which might lead to an interesting interrogation session."
"That'd be great," Ransom agreed to Mesteno’s offer. "I've got some tomes to dig into, too. We might be able to find something useful in there." A beat, then he added, "I wonder if you can make a ward respond to a guest list ..." He trailed into quiet thought
Eden paused a moment, then admitted, "I don't talk to Koyan all the time, actually. Just to check up now and then, and to check on a...friend...who's staying at his house." She didn't go into detail. "Okay, so I gotta ask--what the hell happened that he'd think your concern overbearing? I thought you two were pretty close, and that he'd take the information from you more serious than with anyone else." Nosy Eden! Mesteno's expression and teeth clenching were curious, however, and she couldn't let it slide without at least trying to get some information.
Eden was probing for questions, but leaving Mesteno with more curiosity than inclination to answer her! He wondered briefly if she meant the rescued woman he'd gone tracking down in Spain, but loath to risk stepping on toes, held his tongue. "If you haven't told him already, I'll call him," he decided finally, slanting a look at Bear for any indication of trouble.
"I haven't told him yet," she admitted. She'd been sticking to immediate family first. So, Mesteno could have the joy of informing the grump himself.
"I guess I grumbled at him a few too many times for bein' an idiot when there was trouble,” Mesteno confessed. “You know how reckless he is," he offered, which whilst not a lie was certainly omitting things that Ransom knew full well. "We should meet up some time during the week to pick out where to place the wards," he suggested to Ransom. "Maybe I'll have a peer at your books if you happen to bring them along?" So subtle.
"Yeah, he can be that, for sure. Sometimes in Madrid, I was partly sure he was tryin' to put himself in harm’s way on purpose." Her lips quirked in clear disapproval!
Ransom had kept his lips zipped on the subject of Koyan and his recklessness. He did glance between Mesteno and Eden, though, then met Mesteno's gaze—through his sunglasses, of course—at the mention of meeting up. He agreed with a nod. "Yeah, I might bring a couple of books with me." He supposed it was only fair, since Mesteno had shared one of his.
"I'm real glad we got together to talk about things today." Eden’s tone suggested it was both for the good news and the serious.
"Me too," Mesteno admitted, glancing between them. "Really though, the good news made up for all the shit. You two fit real well... just try not to get fat too soon, huh?" He meant pregnant. And Eden, not Ransom, judging by whom he directed that at.
"Me three," Ransom murmured. Another one of those big smiles broke out across his mouth. Despite the danger in coming days, they'd been able to share some good news, and now they had a preliminary plan for how to handle the trouble.
Out of nowhere, Eden said, "We're gonna have to protect ourselves, too. Magic up some kinda somethin' so we don't breathe in anything...ugly that night." She meant so they weren't susceptible to any agents let loose, as Mesteno had suggested. Then she had a salute to give Mesteno about getting fat, all done with one finger! Never mind the humored smirk.
“That's a good point," Ransom murmured of protecting themselves. A hush of laughter for the salute.
"You're not now, right? Lookin' a little less noodley than usual," Mesteno remarked casually, though he laughed as Eden flipped him off, and then slipped back into stoicism all too easily over the protections. "I got nothing to combat that, and I don't know how effective your standard issue gasmasks would be. Tech sector is more likely to have advanced gear though."
Eden snorted, grabbed the hem of her jacket and the sweater beneath, and yanked both up. He was lucky she didn't flash her boobs at him, and really scar him! She stopped well before, flashing skinny ribs and a flat stomach. But still. Girl skin! "What's that now about bein' chubby? Huh? You got more meat on you than I do."
"She stores all her extras in her ass," Ransom said drily. His grin said he approved, though, and while Eden had her sweater up, he reached around her to drag his nails across her lean belly, leaving little red furrows behind, and setting her to laughing again, eeling this way and that for the furrows.
Mesteno had seen more of Eden during the brief spell they'd spent hiding out down in the Warren, back when she'd painted his nails as he slept. Girl belly wasn't going to spook him! "Look't that little pot-belly," he feigned some cooing, just to be an ass, then chuckled at Ransom's remark about her backside.
Eden flashed down the clothing and considered the tech sector--which she had no clue about. "I was thinkin' magic might work better."
"Maybe we can find a way to marry the two together," Ransom suggested. "Or maybe someone we know can figure out a way to do it." He was thinking of the Grump they lived with.
"Mixing them together might work,” Eden agreed. “I should be able to manage that kinda thing myself--but I'm not sure I wanna risk my sometimes questionable skills with somethin' as precious as breathing." She snickered at Mesteno's cooing. "Let us know what you come up with, Mesteno. Or the both of ya." Eden hadn't considered Rhys yet, but she would.
"I think you should try anyhow," Ransom told Eden. Maybe we can test it before then and refine it. We'll ask Grumpy for help."
"I'll let you both know if I come up with anything," Mesteno told them, bright eyed despite the potential warfare.
“All right. I'll fiddle with a few things, see what comes up," Eden decided. Her problem wasn't skill so much as putting her mind to it. "Oh, maybe Rhys and I can work on it together, yeah." She smiled at Mesteno, still amused, and slouched against Ransom again. "
Finally Mesteno slid off the table, backside gone numb from the chill of the wood. "I'm gonna go make a phone call. You two, be careful in the meantime."
Mesteno earned an ear to ear grin. “Y' take care and we'll talk soon." Well before Valentine's day.
"Take it easy, man,” Ransom added, “and be careful out there. Thanks for agreeing to meet with us."
A murmured Latin command brought Bear back from his surveillance, though the animal craned a look up at the couple with a flag-like wave of tail as he skimmed past to take point. "Vale!" Mesteno bid them farewell, heading back the way he'd come.
Ransom reached down to trail a hand along Bear's back as the dog passed by. "So, I guess we stay and fight," he said quietly, summing up the conversation.
Squeezed, Eden nuzzled Ransom's jaw, then met his eyes. "Yeah, we stay. Now c'mon, we’ve got work to do.” She winked, dragging him away, and Ransom let her, an arm slung about her as they made their way back through the dockside.
[End.]
Re: Love Letters
[Originally posted on Dragon's Mark by the awesome Alain. Reposted on ROH with permission.]
Wednesday February 8th, 2017
It had been a number of years since the last time Alain had taken calls and visits in his office as a private investigator, when he had done his best to make himself available to everyone who wanted to find him.
Things had changed.
He was Lord-Protector, then Baron, now Lord Sovereign of the Realm of Drasill; he was the owner of public-facing businesses like Silver Mark Brewing and Zeppa Soda; his detective agency, S.P.I., had moved into "private intelligence" before its very public collapse a few years ago, and had not been mentioned since. He was a public figure now, which put a barrier of assistants and curated inboxes between himself and any (relative) stranger who might want him for a private conversation.
But Mesteno knew Sal, and knowing Sal put Mesteno's requests in Alain's hands in less than a day. Not long after, Alain's reply found its way to the Sadist by way of a Valentine's Day courier, replete in a stunning red uniform with sequined hearts adorning his hat and messenger bag. The man verified his name, gave him a letter with a trio of roses, and did not linger, dashing off to his next delivery the moment the "gift" left his hands.
The contents of the thick pink envelope were:
a map of the city, highlighting neighborhoods with proportionally high non-human populations, known and suspected Temple meeting sites, and locations for incidents of racially-motivated violence
businesses that have been the target of threats, vandalism, and/or violence, also indicating those among them that intended to serve as sanctuaries
a list of names, addresses, military and mercenary service records, and combat proficiencies, with each person associated with an ID number
a roll of microfiche (and accompanying magnifying lens) showing photographs of the previously named subjects, each one labeled with the aforementioned ID number
a letter, typewritten
The typewritten letter read as follows:
M,
Glad you’ve taken an interest. Temple plans total ethnic cleansing and civil war. We must send a message that disrupts and deters them.
Temple has recruited dozens (info. attached) with combat experience. Without them, the mobs will be easier to contain. Would be v. appreciative if these soldiers were unable to show up on V. Day. No one will give a damn what happens to them.
Leave msg. for me at Zarbo’s Pasta & ‘Za if you need anything. Burn this letter asap, & the other material once you’re done w/ it.
Happy hunting.
A.D.
Wednesday February 8th, 2017
It had been a number of years since the last time Alain had taken calls and visits in his office as a private investigator, when he had done his best to make himself available to everyone who wanted to find him.
Things had changed.
He was Lord-Protector, then Baron, now Lord Sovereign of the Realm of Drasill; he was the owner of public-facing businesses like Silver Mark Brewing and Zeppa Soda; his detective agency, S.P.I., had moved into "private intelligence" before its very public collapse a few years ago, and had not been mentioned since. He was a public figure now, which put a barrier of assistants and curated inboxes between himself and any (relative) stranger who might want him for a private conversation.
But Mesteno knew Sal, and knowing Sal put Mesteno's requests in Alain's hands in less than a day. Not long after, Alain's reply found its way to the Sadist by way of a Valentine's Day courier, replete in a stunning red uniform with sequined hearts adorning his hat and messenger bag. The man verified his name, gave him a letter with a trio of roses, and did not linger, dashing off to his next delivery the moment the "gift" left his hands.
The contents of the thick pink envelope were:
a map of the city, highlighting neighborhoods with proportionally high non-human populations, known and suspected Temple meeting sites, and locations for incidents of racially-motivated violence
businesses that have been the target of threats, vandalism, and/or violence, also indicating those among them that intended to serve as sanctuaries
a list of names, addresses, military and mercenary service records, and combat proficiencies, with each person associated with an ID number
a roll of microfiche (and accompanying magnifying lens) showing photographs of the previously named subjects, each one labeled with the aforementioned ID number
a letter, typewritten
The typewritten letter read as follows:
M,
Glad you’ve taken an interest. Temple plans total ethnic cleansing and civil war. We must send a message that disrupts and deters them.
Temple has recruited dozens (info. attached) with combat experience. Without them, the mobs will be easier to contain. Would be v. appreciative if these soldiers were unable to show up on V. Day. No one will give a damn what happens to them.
Leave msg. for me at Zarbo’s Pasta & ‘Za if you need anything. Burn this letter asap, & the other material once you’re done w/ it.
Happy hunting.
A.D.
Re: Love Letters
Thursday February 9th, 2017
Alain’s repulsively pink, couriered consignment had reached Mesteno at one of the grandiose buildings on the exclusive Wentworth Crescent. The stately residences sat up in the hills overlooking Old Town, where cobblestone streets and fancifully antiquated street lamps hinted toward the calibre of the land owners. It certainly wasn’t where perennially scruffy, disreputable looking and very professional troublemakers were generally sought, but Mesteno had been using one particular manse there as a bolt hole since his teen years. Vadriel, even absent, insisted he think of it as a second home should he ever need one, and with Sanctuary flattened, he’d need enough to take him up on the offer.
Casting aside the triplet blooms carelessly, Mesteno cleared off a space on a priceless, antique writing desk in the doctor’s library and spilled the contents of the dossier from the tasteless envelope.
Alain’s letter didn’t daunt, but the list of businesses under threat was as extensive as his pessimism had predicted; it was going to be an impossible endeavour to try and ward them all before the fourteenth, and doing so without drawing attention to themselves even more difficult. Perhaps with an extra pair of elven hands…
Loath to be rid of the letter, but not unaccustomed to the need for secrecy, he cast it into the orange lick of flames in the fireplace and settled in to acquaint himself with the details of their opposition. It was several hours later that the text went out to Eden and Ransom, predictably succinct.
Green light. Vadriel’s place when you guys’re ready.
Alain’s repulsively pink, couriered consignment had reached Mesteno at one of the grandiose buildings on the exclusive Wentworth Crescent. The stately residences sat up in the hills overlooking Old Town, where cobblestone streets and fancifully antiquated street lamps hinted toward the calibre of the land owners. It certainly wasn’t where perennially scruffy, disreputable looking and very professional troublemakers were generally sought, but Mesteno had been using one particular manse there as a bolt hole since his teen years. Vadriel, even absent, insisted he think of it as a second home should he ever need one, and with Sanctuary flattened, he’d need enough to take him up on the offer.
Casting aside the triplet blooms carelessly, Mesteno cleared off a space on a priceless, antique writing desk in the doctor’s library and spilled the contents of the dossier from the tasteless envelope.
Alain’s letter didn’t daunt, but the list of businesses under threat was as extensive as his pessimism had predicted; it was going to be an impossible endeavour to try and ward them all before the fourteenth, and doing so without drawing attention to themselves even more difficult. Perhaps with an extra pair of elven hands…
Loath to be rid of the letter, but not unaccustomed to the need for secrecy, he cast it into the orange lick of flames in the fireplace and settled in to acquaint himself with the details of their opposition. It was several hours later that the text went out to Eden and Ransom, predictably succinct.
Green light. Vadriel’s place when you guys’re ready.
Re: Love Letters
[Originally posted by the wonderful Eden on Dragon's Mark. Reposted here with permission from the writer.]
Pre-War
“It doesn't matter what you think you know, it matters that we know you're safe. Ransom and I can't concentrate if we think you snuck out and are in the city somewhere.” Eden paused when her son, Thomas William Channing, lifted his chin in rebellion.
She knew what was coming, because he'd gotten the rebellion aspect of his personality from her.
“But I can help. I can do a lot more magic than you can, and I'm only nine,” Will stated.
Eden's lips ticked with amusement. Out of the mouths of babes. She said, “That may be true, but that's only because your mom doesn't practice enough. And I know you wanna help and, someday, you will. But this time, I need you to go with your dad for a while, all right? I'll send for you when it's over.”
Will remained silent for several minutes. Eden braced herself for more rebellion or outright defiance. Thomas was a good kid, far too mature for his age, but she wouldn't budge on her decision to send him out of Rhydin. Reaching out, she smoothed back a stray lock of tawny hair from his forehead then met his eyes again. His were gray, the same shade as hers.
She recognized the moment Will capitulated and gave in to her demand. His small but sturdy shoulders slumped and he exhaled loudly.
“Okay,” he said.
“Thanks. I love you. We'll see you in two weeks.” Eden drew Will into a hug, kissed his cheek, and waited while Ransom gave his own words of advice and followed suit with the affection.
Then Will went out the door with his Aunt Paiva, prepared to be ferried to a prearranged meeting place with his father.
When the door closed, Eden glanced at Ransom. Amusement flickered through her eyes despite the serious situation. “That little brat. Pointing out that he can do better magic than his mom. I'll show him.”
She tilted her head, indicating Ransom should join her. Eden set off through through the large home, thoughtful at the recent turn of events. She jogged up a set of stairs and led Ransom to a room at the far end, a room closed off to everyone but her, Ransom and Rhys.
Behind the door lie a space some would call a workshop, others a laboratory. Long wooden tables lined the walls, which were covered with hand drawn glyphs and maps. A rectangular wooden block sat directly in the middle of it all, covered with vials, herbs, books, potions and other spell-making paraphernalia. There was a general air of disuse about the room, as if its originator had not spent time there recently.
That was about to change.
“Time to brush off the cobwebs and get down to business,” Eden murmured. She glanced at Ransom. “Let's see what kinda mayhem we can cook up.”
Just as she stepped across the threshold, her phone chimed. Eden dug the cell from her pocket and glanced at the text.
Green light. Vadriel's place when you guys're ready.
She tipped the screen toward Ransom. “Mesteno wants to meet up at Vadriel's. It's on like Donkey Kong.”
Pre-War
“It doesn't matter what you think you know, it matters that we know you're safe. Ransom and I can't concentrate if we think you snuck out and are in the city somewhere.” Eden paused when her son, Thomas William Channing, lifted his chin in rebellion.
She knew what was coming, because he'd gotten the rebellion aspect of his personality from her.
“But I can help. I can do a lot more magic than you can, and I'm only nine,” Will stated.
Eden's lips ticked with amusement. Out of the mouths of babes. She said, “That may be true, but that's only because your mom doesn't practice enough. And I know you wanna help and, someday, you will. But this time, I need you to go with your dad for a while, all right? I'll send for you when it's over.”
Will remained silent for several minutes. Eden braced herself for more rebellion or outright defiance. Thomas was a good kid, far too mature for his age, but she wouldn't budge on her decision to send him out of Rhydin. Reaching out, she smoothed back a stray lock of tawny hair from his forehead then met his eyes again. His were gray, the same shade as hers.
She recognized the moment Will capitulated and gave in to her demand. His small but sturdy shoulders slumped and he exhaled loudly.
“Okay,” he said.
“Thanks. I love you. We'll see you in two weeks.” Eden drew Will into a hug, kissed his cheek, and waited while Ransom gave his own words of advice and followed suit with the affection.
Then Will went out the door with his Aunt Paiva, prepared to be ferried to a prearranged meeting place with his father.
When the door closed, Eden glanced at Ransom. Amusement flickered through her eyes despite the serious situation. “That little brat. Pointing out that he can do better magic than his mom. I'll show him.”
She tilted her head, indicating Ransom should join her. Eden set off through through the large home, thoughtful at the recent turn of events. She jogged up a set of stairs and led Ransom to a room at the far end, a room closed off to everyone but her, Ransom and Rhys.
Behind the door lie a space some would call a workshop, others a laboratory. Long wooden tables lined the walls, which were covered with hand drawn glyphs and maps. A rectangular wooden block sat directly in the middle of it all, covered with vials, herbs, books, potions and other spell-making paraphernalia. There was a general air of disuse about the room, as if its originator had not spent time there recently.
That was about to change.
“Time to brush off the cobwebs and get down to business,” Eden murmured. She glanced at Ransom. “Let's see what kinda mayhem we can cook up.”
Just as she stepped across the threshold, her phone chimed. Eden dug the cell from her pocket and glanced at the text.
Green light. Vadriel's place when you guys're ready.
She tipped the screen toward Ransom. “Mesteno wants to meet up at Vadriel's. It's on like Donkey Kong.”
Re: Love Letters
[Originally posted by the awesome Ransom over on Dragon's Mark. Reposted here on ROH with permission.]
Pre-War (Cont.)
Ransom watched with fondness—and far too much amusement—while Eden wrangled her ornery offspring. Will was, indeed, a very smart kid, but he was as headstrong his mother and it made for interesting encounters. Ransom wisely stayed out of the way until it was time to say his goodbyes.
He didn’t have much advice to offer the boy, but he did promise a wilderness trip once Will got back to Rhydin. After all the hugs and kisses, he stood behind Eden, watching while Paiva took Will out to her truck. He barely gave any ground when Eden finally shut the door and turned back to him.
“Yeah? Let me know if you’re planning a mage-off. I want to be able to call the family in for that.” Shoulders shaking with quiet laughter, he fell into step behind Eden and followed her through the house to the closed-off room she’d dedicated to her craft.
After she turned on the light, he stood in the doorway and observed the layout of her workroom. He took note of the glyphs, the maps, the potions, and everything else she had sequestered away. It was his first time in her magical work space, though he had known it was there.
“This is awesome, babe,” he murmured. He was particularly interested in whatever tomes and books of shadows she had lying about, but he bided his time. He waited until she invited him inside before he stepped over the threshold.
When Eden’s phone chimed and she showed him the message, he admitted, “I don’t know who that is.” Vadriel. He supposed he would eventually find out, though, either through Eden or through Mesteno himself.
“I’ve never quite understood that expression,” he added a moment later, lips twitching. He meant the Donkey Kong reference.
He understood the language of magic a lot better than certain pop culture references, however, and he was eager to help Eden get started.
•••
A couple of hours later, his mind and senses wreathed in magic, Ransom kissed Eden and slipped back out of her workroom with a request that she wish him luck. He had some rounds to make, a few friends to visit, and resources to acquire.
He hoped it would all be enough.
Pre-War (Cont.)
Ransom watched with fondness—and far too much amusement—while Eden wrangled her ornery offspring. Will was, indeed, a very smart kid, but he was as headstrong his mother and it made for interesting encounters. Ransom wisely stayed out of the way until it was time to say his goodbyes.
He didn’t have much advice to offer the boy, but he did promise a wilderness trip once Will got back to Rhydin. After all the hugs and kisses, he stood behind Eden, watching while Paiva took Will out to her truck. He barely gave any ground when Eden finally shut the door and turned back to him.
“Yeah? Let me know if you’re planning a mage-off. I want to be able to call the family in for that.” Shoulders shaking with quiet laughter, he fell into step behind Eden and followed her through the house to the closed-off room she’d dedicated to her craft.
After she turned on the light, he stood in the doorway and observed the layout of her workroom. He took note of the glyphs, the maps, the potions, and everything else she had sequestered away. It was his first time in her magical work space, though he had known it was there.
“This is awesome, babe,” he murmured. He was particularly interested in whatever tomes and books of shadows she had lying about, but he bided his time. He waited until she invited him inside before he stepped over the threshold.
When Eden’s phone chimed and she showed him the message, he admitted, “I don’t know who that is.” Vadriel. He supposed he would eventually find out, though, either through Eden or through Mesteno himself.
“I’ve never quite understood that expression,” he added a moment later, lips twitching. He meant the Donkey Kong reference.
He understood the language of magic a lot better than certain pop culture references, however, and he was eager to help Eden get started.
•••
A couple of hours later, his mind and senses wreathed in magic, Ransom kissed Eden and slipped back out of her workroom with a request that she wish him luck. He had some rounds to make, a few friends to visit, and resources to acquire.
He hoped it would all be enough.
Re: Love Letters
[Originally posted by Ransom on Dragon's Mark. Reposted with permission.]
Pre-War (cont.)
It was early afternoon when Ransom pulled up in front of the manor inhabited by the Hollowman family. While he waited to be buzzed through the gate, he let his gaze wander across what he could see of the grounds.
Despite the desperate winter chill, the lawn was still mostly green. The trees were leafless, though, as was to be expected. Blanketed horses grazed in the distance. It was peaceful here, a far cry from the havoc that had taken the city of Rhydin in its fist.
It took a few moments for the intercom posted across from the driver's side window to buzz. "Good afternoon," came Brian's cultured voice. "May I help you?"
Indeed, it was downright tranquil out here in the country. Ransom wondered if it would stay that way, or if the countryside would eventually succumb to the same disease currently ravaging the city.
The sound of the intercom drew his attention back to matters at hand. He buzzed his window down and said, "Hey, it's Ransom. I'm here to see Andrew." He made sure to lean his head out of the car and tug his sunglasses down so the house security specialist could see his face and identify him.
The slight pause that followed Ransom's greeting indicated that Brian was closely studying the image of him on the screen indoors, looking for any signs of subterfuge. His voice came over the intercom again a few moments later. "Of course, Mr. Chandler. Come on up."
A louder buzz signaled the gate releasing, and then the heavy iron affair began to slowly swing open, admitting Ransom's car.
Ransom waited patiently while the house's head of security-slash-butler did his thing, keeping his face turned up toward the security camera mounted above the intercom. He flashed the camera a smile when he was finally admitted, said his thanks, and buzzed his window back up.
On his way up the drive, he considered the house itself and wondered if he should speak to Eden about the two of them looking for property further out in the country. Her own house was technically situated in the countryside—it had to be, given its sprawl—but perhaps it would be nice to have an even larger plot of land to call their own.
When he reached the house, he left his Audi coupe in the circular drive and walked up the steps that flanked the front entrance.
The house was a stately affair built of neutral stone, with the stylings of a traditional English country house. There was an odd sense of sentience about it, though, as if its windows were eyes that watched Ransom's approach. Neatly trimmed shrubbery stood in the flower beds and ivy crawled across the facade.
The front door opened as Ransom started up the steps and Brian appeared in the doorway. Despite his station, he was dressed fairly casually in blue jeans and a sport coat, which undoubtedly disguised the piece he kept on his person.
He welcomed Ransom with a smile, a handshake, and a familiar slap on the back. Then he led him inside and through the house to the sunroom, which overlooked the gardens at the back of the property. "Mr. Hollowman, Mr. Chandler is here to see you," he said, pausing just inside the doorway.
Andrew was seated at a table in front of one of the tall windows, his middle son, Rory, situated in his lap. A small selection of plates and bowls sat on the table in front of them, each with the remnants of some dish inside it. Andrew had just reached into one of the bowls when Brian spoke up and he turned a droll look on them.
"So formal today," he said drily as he took a slice of apple from the bowl and brought it close, offering it to the toddler in his lap.
"I have to amuse myself somehow," Brian said cheerfully.
"Yes, gods forbid you be bored," Andrew replied, clearly amused. "C'mon in, Ransom."
Brian turned to Ransom with a grin, winked, and then went out again.
Ransom smiled, amused by the back-and-forth between the two men, and then, when invited, he walked deeper into the room. "Hey," he said as he approached the table. He took off his sunglasses. "Thanks for agreeing to see me today."
He eyed the little boy sitting in Andrew's lap and smiled his most harmless smile. He didn't invite himself to sit at the table with them, but stood off to the side, well within Andrew's line of sight.
Andrew arched a thin, neat brow at Ransom. "My, my. You're formal today, too. Is it catching?" His voice held the same note of dry amusement he'd used with Brian. "Next thing you know, I'll have to have the place sprayed for cultured cooties." He nudged Rory gently, laying some extra “ew” into the words.
The little boy in his lap hiccuped a quiet giggle, but that sound quickly dissolved into coughs. Andrew's eyes lit up with pleasure, but that was quickly tempered by what came after. He rubbed a hand along Rory's back, helping soothe away the disturbance in his lungs, and cocked his head toward the chair across from him.
"Have a seat," he said to Ransom. "Thanks for the call, by the way. We really appreciate it."
Ransom quirked a grin. "Just taking my cues from you guys," he said. "Thought it might be a royals ruse day in the house."
He shrugged out of his leather jacket before he pulled out the chair Andrew had indicated. He slung it across the back of the chair and sat. His blue eyes went right back to the child in Andrew's lap. "Hey there, buddy. Not feeling good today?"
He leaned forward, one elbow on the table as he offered a handshake to Andrew. "No problem. Did you you decide what you're all going to do?" He was careful with his phrasing in front of the kid.
Andrew rolled his eyes. "You're funny." His dark eyes glinted with mirth as he watched Ransom get comfortable. Then he reached to shake the man's hand.
"He's got a cold," he explained with some chagrin, one corner of his mouth twitching back.
The toddler had light green eyes like his mother. He watched Ransom with a slow, detached sort of curiosity. After a moment, he mirrored Ransom's smile.
Andrew ran his fingers through the boy's dark hair, nodding his own dark head. "We'll be spending a week or two in London. We're leaving this weekend." He didn't look entirely happy about it, but like he had resigned himself to it.
"I try." Ransom sat back after trading grips with Andrew. His smile briefly faltered. "Aww, poor little guy."
He looked right into Rory's eyes, reminded of how Will had Eden's eyes, just like Rory had Fenn's. "I'm sorry you feel so bad, buddy. I hope it goes away soon."
He smiled again at the child, gratified when Rory mimicked him. Then he looked up to meet Andrew's gaze. "There was no way to keep him from getting it?" The twiddling of his fingers were meant to indicate magical means.
Noticing the resignation in Andrew's expression, he said, "You're doing the right thing. It'll ensure that everyone stays safe."
"He has to build up antibodies, like any other child." There was a wry note in Andrew's voice. He didn't like watching his children suffer, but in cases like this, he knew it was for the best. Again he ran his fingers through Rory's hair.
The corners of his mouth turned downward. "I know," he said quietly. He dropped a kiss on top of Rory's head and whispered there, "Gods, I know it's the right thing." He had four children under the age of five. Their safety, and their mother's safety, took priority over everything else.
"I feel guilty, though," he admitted, "because there are people I care about, like you and Eden, who will be here fighting, and I won't be here to help." He met Ransom's gaze again.
Ransom hummed, understanding what Andrew meant. He hadn't thought of it that way. But then, he was new to the whole kids thing, and Eden's son was quite a bit older than little Rory. He watched Andrew's interaction with his son, a strange, new feeling uncurling in his chest. He was quick to tamp it down, however, in efforts to stay focused on matters at hand.
"That's actually why I asked you to meet with me."
Andrew tilted his head. "What do you mean?"
Ransom hesitated, thinking about the words he wanted to use. "I was hoping there was some way you could help … well, armor us, for lack of a better word. Eden told me about that spell you worked on her and Sebastian and the others before they went to South Carolina."
Andrew's eyes picked up a gleam, then his lips curved into a faint, bemused smile that seemed to gather more toward one side of his mouth. "That was a big spell."
"It was a good one," Ransom said, "from what I hear."
"Mm." Andrew's smile faded slowly and his brows drew. "I won't be here that evening to put it on you."
"True." Ransom nodded, his verbal pause thoughtful. "Is there some way you can write the spell so we can perform it ourselves?"
Andrew hummed again, this time more thoughtfully. His dark eyes turned toward the window and what lay beyond it—outside, down in the gardens, Sebastian was teaching Liam, their elder son, to play football. Not American football, but proper football. Sunlight gleamed on their hair, auburn and tawny brown, respectively.
After several moments, Andrew said, "It's more efficient, I think, for me to simply enchant an object, and maybe add a trigger for the spell." He looked back to Ransom.
Ransom waited quietly while Andrew thought. They were on a tight budget, time-wise, but he could afford a few minutes. Especially when dealing with someone who could help ensure that Eden didn't get gravely hurt during the course of battle. That was worth the wait, to him. He did, however, follow the other man's gaze.
When Andrew finally spoke, Ransom sat up straighter and leaned his elbows on the edge of the table. "Yeah? You can do that?" He winced the moment the words left his mouth. What a stupid question!
Andrew's eyes picked up more light and the corners of his mouth twitched, clearly amused by Ransom's choice of words. To his credit, he had the grace to simply say, "I can do that."
Ransom ran a hand through his hair, then smoothed it back down and pushed on. "What would you need for the talismans?" he asked. "From me, I mean. Or rather, us."
Andrew was reminded of a cat, watching Ransom. Emergency grooming. He cleared his throat to rid himself of the tickle of a laugh in the back of his throat.
"Just the object. Or objects, rather. I'll need one for you and one for Eden." He paused, then added, "Is Rhys staying behind, or did he take Will through the Hedge again?"
He smoothed a hand along Rory's back, then over his hair. Rory was leaning heavily against him. He wheezed quietly while he dozed, lulled by hearing his dad talk.
Ransom licked at his teeth behind his lips and narrowed his eyes at Andrew when the man cleared his throat. That sounded like a laugh!
Andrew gave Ransom the most guileless look he could muster. What laugh?
Settling back in his chair again, Ransom said, "Rhys decided to stay and fight. Will left this morning to spend some time with his dad."
Andrew nodded, thoughtful. "That'll be good for him, I think. Rhys, I mean, though I'm sure it'll be good for Will to spend time with his dad."
Ransom arched a brow, curious over what Andrew meant. "What do you mean 'good for him'?"
Andrew shook his head and gave him a faintly apologetic smile. "Those aren't my demons to talk about. Just…" He paused to take a breath, a complicated expression crawling across his face. "Look after him in the aftermath, will you?"
The more Andrew said—and the more he didn't say—the more curious Ransom became. "Fair enough," he said with a nod. Then, more quietly, "We will. I'll tell Eden that we need to keep an eye on him."
His belly was squirming with questions, wondering what on earth kind of meaning this fight could have for Rhys. Nonetheless, he knew Andrew was right. Rhys had his secrets, just like Ransom did, and Ransom supposed that Rhys could be just as willing as he was to fight to protect those secrets. So, he didn't press Andrew on the subject. He'd just watch for an opportunity after the fight. Maybe he could ask Rhys then.
Andrew watched Ransom closely during the moments of silence that ensued after he'd made his request. He could tell the guy wanted him to say more, and he was glad when Ransom didn't press any further. Betraying Rhys' confidence wasn't an act Andrew would relish.
Ransom's gaze had drifted down to the sleeping Rory while he thought this over and he glanced up to meet Andrew's eyes again. "So, does the object need to be anything in specific? Can it be a trinket, or does it need to be something personal and important to each of us?"
Andrew met Ransom's gaze, then shook his head. "It only needs to be personal if I'm tying it directly to each of you, and there may not be time for that," he said.
"A trinket would be fine. Jewelry is sometimes the best option because it tends to be small. I prefer to use a necklace, though, because it allows the spell to spread out from the core, rather than, say, the hand. It's semantics, but magic tends to be receptive to symbolism."
Andrew shrugged gently and shifted around in his chair, carefully crossing his legs. The child in his lap stirred a little, then snuggled closer to his chest.
"It doesn't need to be anything expensive. It can literally be a trinket." Something inexpensive, or even disposable. Andrew's mind was whirling with possibilities already.
Ransom nodded again. "Yeah, we're running pretty short on time as it is." It would set him back if he had to secure an item from Eden, Rhys, and Mesteno. Speaking of … "Are you okay with making one of these for someone you don't know? Eden and I are meeting with, and possibly fighting with, a friend of ours. His name's Mesteno."
Andrew arched a brow, then hummed thoughtfully. "Mesteno," he said slowly, tasting the shape of the name in his mouth. Curiously, he used the exact same inflection Ransom had used. "That name sounds familiar."
A cold chill crawled up Ransom's spine when Andrew parroted the name back to him in the exact same way. It was spooky; he'd long ago learned that names held power. He looked a little closer at Andrew.
"Yeah, he's … around my height. Red hair and dusky skin. Bright gold eyes, like a cat." He provided the details, in case that jogged Andrew's memory. Rhydin was a small and incestuous town, after all.
Andrew's smile turned a little apologetic, a little placating, when Ransom seemed to hone in on him. He lifted a hand as if to wave off the offense he hadn't meant to inflict. Names were important in his line of work; he collected them out of habit.
He focused on the details Ransom gave him then. "I think I met him once, down at the docks. Through Eden, of course. He'll be joining you?"
Ransom licked his lips and relaxed a little. Then he gave Andrew a wry smile. He wasn't surprised to hear that Eden had introduced them. "Yeah. Actually, he's the one that's provided us with all of the information so far." A beat. "That stays between us, please."
"Ahh." Andrew nodded his head. "Give him my thanks then. Without that information, my family would be in danger."
Though he gave his thanks, he was careful not to say that he owed Mesteno anything. Certain phrases were important in his line of work, too—and were important to his bloodline. But he could at least agree to do this for the guy and help ensure he went home at the end of the day.
"Yeah, I'll make one for him, too. Is there anyone else?"
The corner of Ransom's mouth tugged up and he again looked at the child in Andrew's lap, just for a moment before meeting Andrew's eyes again. He shook his head. "As far as I know, no one else in our immediate circle is staying, except Koyan, and undoubtedly he's got his own means."
Then, "Thanks for doing this for us."
Andrew inclined his head, silently agreeing about Koyan. He'd only met the guy a couple of times, but he had no doubt Ransom's assessment was true.
He waved off the gratitude. "Of course. It's no trouble." The amount of work that would go into the spell was a small price to pay to ensure that the people he loved and cared for were taken care of.
Ransom smiled and moved to stand. "Excellent. I'll try to have the necklaces to you by this evening." He reached for his jacket.
Andrew's brows arched when Ransom shot up like that. "That sounds good," he agreed. "And when I'm finished, I'll have them couriered to Eden's place. That'll save you the time coming back over here."
He uncrossed his legs, then also moved to stand, taking care not to jostle the kidlet he was holding. This time he bypassed the handshake and lifted his arm to offer Ransom a hug.
"Thanks, man. That'll help a lot." Ransom paused when Andrew climbed to his feet, and then, when he was offered the hug, he took it. He, too, was careful not to jostle Rory.
Andrew kept the hug brief and familial, slapping Ransom lightly on the back. Then he pulled back to look up at him, his dark eyes gone serious. "Take care of yourselves out there, okay? Be sure all of you come back to us. Okay?"
He took a step back, out of Ransom's space. That's when he seemed to notice the remnants of his and his son's lunch strewn out upon the table. He made a face. "My apologies. I should've asked if you wanted something." He gestured at the dishes.
Ransom returned the affection, giving Andrew a light slap on the back, too. Then he met the man's dark gaze. He felt the gravity of that request all the way down to his bones. "We will," he promised. "We'll all come back."
Given space, he shrugged his jacket on and cut an amused look at the table. He shook his head. "I wouldn't have been able to stay," he said ruefully. "As much as I love AIleen's cooking, I just don't have time today." He had too much to do, and as it was, he and Eden would probably end up eating dinner while standing at the kitchen counter, discussing defensive tactics.
"When all this blows over and you guys are back in town, we'll all get together for dinner. How's that?"
A faint smirk stole across Andrew's mouth. "Don't let her hear you say that," he murmured. "She'll take it as a challenge and try to make you something for the road." Then he smiled, fully and warmly. "That sounds great. We'll be looking forward to it."
Despite the men's care, the shift in position had woken Rory and he cracked his eyes open to look at Ransom. His eyes were a little glassy.
"See you guys soon," Ransom told Andrew. “Give Fenn and Sebastian our love.” His and Eden's. Then, noticing Rory was awake, he stroked a light hand over the boy's head. "Feel better, little guy."
With that, he turned and strode from the sunroom. He could show himself out.
“And give Eden ours.” Andrew watched Ransom go, then turned back toward the table and began to carefully stack dishes with his free hand.
Brian met Ransom in the hallway and walked with him to the foyer. As he opened the door for him, he said, "Let us know if you guys need anything else, all right?" He gave Ransom a significant look. In addition to magical implements, the members of this house were armed to the teeth.
Ransom wasn't surprised to feel Brian in his shadow, though it still set the hairs on the back of his neck on end. When they reached the door, he paused on the threshold to turn to the other man. "Thanks. We appreciate that." He cast a glance back the way he'd come. "Make sure they stay safe, yeah?"
He stepped out into the afternoon sunlight and put his sunglasses back on as he made his way to the Audi.
"Of course, Mr. Chandler." The name held an ironic lilt on Brian's tongue. He watched Ransom go to his car, then shut the door and made his way back to the security alcove to get the gate for him.
Ransom shook his head as he climbed into the Audi and keyed the engine. He paused long enough to text Eden:
Good news: AH will send talismans. Checking in with LA, then coming home.
Then he took off down the driveway and toward the next item on his to-do list.
Pre-War (cont.)
It was early afternoon when Ransom pulled up in front of the manor inhabited by the Hollowman family. While he waited to be buzzed through the gate, he let his gaze wander across what he could see of the grounds.
Despite the desperate winter chill, the lawn was still mostly green. The trees were leafless, though, as was to be expected. Blanketed horses grazed in the distance. It was peaceful here, a far cry from the havoc that had taken the city of Rhydin in its fist.
It took a few moments for the intercom posted across from the driver's side window to buzz. "Good afternoon," came Brian's cultured voice. "May I help you?"
Indeed, it was downright tranquil out here in the country. Ransom wondered if it would stay that way, or if the countryside would eventually succumb to the same disease currently ravaging the city.
The sound of the intercom drew his attention back to matters at hand. He buzzed his window down and said, "Hey, it's Ransom. I'm here to see Andrew." He made sure to lean his head out of the car and tug his sunglasses down so the house security specialist could see his face and identify him.
The slight pause that followed Ransom's greeting indicated that Brian was closely studying the image of him on the screen indoors, looking for any signs of subterfuge. His voice came over the intercom again a few moments later. "Of course, Mr. Chandler. Come on up."
A louder buzz signaled the gate releasing, and then the heavy iron affair began to slowly swing open, admitting Ransom's car.
Ransom waited patiently while the house's head of security-slash-butler did his thing, keeping his face turned up toward the security camera mounted above the intercom. He flashed the camera a smile when he was finally admitted, said his thanks, and buzzed his window back up.
On his way up the drive, he considered the house itself and wondered if he should speak to Eden about the two of them looking for property further out in the country. Her own house was technically situated in the countryside—it had to be, given its sprawl—but perhaps it would be nice to have an even larger plot of land to call their own.
When he reached the house, he left his Audi coupe in the circular drive and walked up the steps that flanked the front entrance.
The house was a stately affair built of neutral stone, with the stylings of a traditional English country house. There was an odd sense of sentience about it, though, as if its windows were eyes that watched Ransom's approach. Neatly trimmed shrubbery stood in the flower beds and ivy crawled across the facade.
The front door opened as Ransom started up the steps and Brian appeared in the doorway. Despite his station, he was dressed fairly casually in blue jeans and a sport coat, which undoubtedly disguised the piece he kept on his person.
He welcomed Ransom with a smile, a handshake, and a familiar slap on the back. Then he led him inside and through the house to the sunroom, which overlooked the gardens at the back of the property. "Mr. Hollowman, Mr. Chandler is here to see you," he said, pausing just inside the doorway.
Andrew was seated at a table in front of one of the tall windows, his middle son, Rory, situated in his lap. A small selection of plates and bowls sat on the table in front of them, each with the remnants of some dish inside it. Andrew had just reached into one of the bowls when Brian spoke up and he turned a droll look on them.
"So formal today," he said drily as he took a slice of apple from the bowl and brought it close, offering it to the toddler in his lap.
"I have to amuse myself somehow," Brian said cheerfully.
"Yes, gods forbid you be bored," Andrew replied, clearly amused. "C'mon in, Ransom."
Brian turned to Ransom with a grin, winked, and then went out again.
Ransom smiled, amused by the back-and-forth between the two men, and then, when invited, he walked deeper into the room. "Hey," he said as he approached the table. He took off his sunglasses. "Thanks for agreeing to see me today."
He eyed the little boy sitting in Andrew's lap and smiled his most harmless smile. He didn't invite himself to sit at the table with them, but stood off to the side, well within Andrew's line of sight.
Andrew arched a thin, neat brow at Ransom. "My, my. You're formal today, too. Is it catching?" His voice held the same note of dry amusement he'd used with Brian. "Next thing you know, I'll have to have the place sprayed for cultured cooties." He nudged Rory gently, laying some extra “ew” into the words.
The little boy in his lap hiccuped a quiet giggle, but that sound quickly dissolved into coughs. Andrew's eyes lit up with pleasure, but that was quickly tempered by what came after. He rubbed a hand along Rory's back, helping soothe away the disturbance in his lungs, and cocked his head toward the chair across from him.
"Have a seat," he said to Ransom. "Thanks for the call, by the way. We really appreciate it."
Ransom quirked a grin. "Just taking my cues from you guys," he said. "Thought it might be a royals ruse day in the house."
He shrugged out of his leather jacket before he pulled out the chair Andrew had indicated. He slung it across the back of the chair and sat. His blue eyes went right back to the child in Andrew's lap. "Hey there, buddy. Not feeling good today?"
He leaned forward, one elbow on the table as he offered a handshake to Andrew. "No problem. Did you you decide what you're all going to do?" He was careful with his phrasing in front of the kid.
Andrew rolled his eyes. "You're funny." His dark eyes glinted with mirth as he watched Ransom get comfortable. Then he reached to shake the man's hand.
"He's got a cold," he explained with some chagrin, one corner of his mouth twitching back.
The toddler had light green eyes like his mother. He watched Ransom with a slow, detached sort of curiosity. After a moment, he mirrored Ransom's smile.
Andrew ran his fingers through the boy's dark hair, nodding his own dark head. "We'll be spending a week or two in London. We're leaving this weekend." He didn't look entirely happy about it, but like he had resigned himself to it.
"I try." Ransom sat back after trading grips with Andrew. His smile briefly faltered. "Aww, poor little guy."
He looked right into Rory's eyes, reminded of how Will had Eden's eyes, just like Rory had Fenn's. "I'm sorry you feel so bad, buddy. I hope it goes away soon."
He smiled again at the child, gratified when Rory mimicked him. Then he looked up to meet Andrew's gaze. "There was no way to keep him from getting it?" The twiddling of his fingers were meant to indicate magical means.
Noticing the resignation in Andrew's expression, he said, "You're doing the right thing. It'll ensure that everyone stays safe."
"He has to build up antibodies, like any other child." There was a wry note in Andrew's voice. He didn't like watching his children suffer, but in cases like this, he knew it was for the best. Again he ran his fingers through Rory's hair.
The corners of his mouth turned downward. "I know," he said quietly. He dropped a kiss on top of Rory's head and whispered there, "Gods, I know it's the right thing." He had four children under the age of five. Their safety, and their mother's safety, took priority over everything else.
"I feel guilty, though," he admitted, "because there are people I care about, like you and Eden, who will be here fighting, and I won't be here to help." He met Ransom's gaze again.
Ransom hummed, understanding what Andrew meant. He hadn't thought of it that way. But then, he was new to the whole kids thing, and Eden's son was quite a bit older than little Rory. He watched Andrew's interaction with his son, a strange, new feeling uncurling in his chest. He was quick to tamp it down, however, in efforts to stay focused on matters at hand.
"That's actually why I asked you to meet with me."
Andrew tilted his head. "What do you mean?"
Ransom hesitated, thinking about the words he wanted to use. "I was hoping there was some way you could help … well, armor us, for lack of a better word. Eden told me about that spell you worked on her and Sebastian and the others before they went to South Carolina."
Andrew's eyes picked up a gleam, then his lips curved into a faint, bemused smile that seemed to gather more toward one side of his mouth. "That was a big spell."
"It was a good one," Ransom said, "from what I hear."
"Mm." Andrew's smile faded slowly and his brows drew. "I won't be here that evening to put it on you."
"True." Ransom nodded, his verbal pause thoughtful. "Is there some way you can write the spell so we can perform it ourselves?"
Andrew hummed again, this time more thoughtfully. His dark eyes turned toward the window and what lay beyond it—outside, down in the gardens, Sebastian was teaching Liam, their elder son, to play football. Not American football, but proper football. Sunlight gleamed on their hair, auburn and tawny brown, respectively.
After several moments, Andrew said, "It's more efficient, I think, for me to simply enchant an object, and maybe add a trigger for the spell." He looked back to Ransom.
Ransom waited quietly while Andrew thought. They were on a tight budget, time-wise, but he could afford a few minutes. Especially when dealing with someone who could help ensure that Eden didn't get gravely hurt during the course of battle. That was worth the wait, to him. He did, however, follow the other man's gaze.
When Andrew finally spoke, Ransom sat up straighter and leaned his elbows on the edge of the table. "Yeah? You can do that?" He winced the moment the words left his mouth. What a stupid question!
Andrew's eyes picked up more light and the corners of his mouth twitched, clearly amused by Ransom's choice of words. To his credit, he had the grace to simply say, "I can do that."
Ransom ran a hand through his hair, then smoothed it back down and pushed on. "What would you need for the talismans?" he asked. "From me, I mean. Or rather, us."
Andrew was reminded of a cat, watching Ransom. Emergency grooming. He cleared his throat to rid himself of the tickle of a laugh in the back of his throat.
"Just the object. Or objects, rather. I'll need one for you and one for Eden." He paused, then added, "Is Rhys staying behind, or did he take Will through the Hedge again?"
He smoothed a hand along Rory's back, then over his hair. Rory was leaning heavily against him. He wheezed quietly while he dozed, lulled by hearing his dad talk.
Ransom licked at his teeth behind his lips and narrowed his eyes at Andrew when the man cleared his throat. That sounded like a laugh!
Andrew gave Ransom the most guileless look he could muster. What laugh?
Settling back in his chair again, Ransom said, "Rhys decided to stay and fight. Will left this morning to spend some time with his dad."
Andrew nodded, thoughtful. "That'll be good for him, I think. Rhys, I mean, though I'm sure it'll be good for Will to spend time with his dad."
Ransom arched a brow, curious over what Andrew meant. "What do you mean 'good for him'?"
Andrew shook his head and gave him a faintly apologetic smile. "Those aren't my demons to talk about. Just…" He paused to take a breath, a complicated expression crawling across his face. "Look after him in the aftermath, will you?"
The more Andrew said—and the more he didn't say—the more curious Ransom became. "Fair enough," he said with a nod. Then, more quietly, "We will. I'll tell Eden that we need to keep an eye on him."
His belly was squirming with questions, wondering what on earth kind of meaning this fight could have for Rhys. Nonetheless, he knew Andrew was right. Rhys had his secrets, just like Ransom did, and Ransom supposed that Rhys could be just as willing as he was to fight to protect those secrets. So, he didn't press Andrew on the subject. He'd just watch for an opportunity after the fight. Maybe he could ask Rhys then.
Andrew watched Ransom closely during the moments of silence that ensued after he'd made his request. He could tell the guy wanted him to say more, and he was glad when Ransom didn't press any further. Betraying Rhys' confidence wasn't an act Andrew would relish.
Ransom's gaze had drifted down to the sleeping Rory while he thought this over and he glanced up to meet Andrew's eyes again. "So, does the object need to be anything in specific? Can it be a trinket, or does it need to be something personal and important to each of us?"
Andrew met Ransom's gaze, then shook his head. "It only needs to be personal if I'm tying it directly to each of you, and there may not be time for that," he said.
"A trinket would be fine. Jewelry is sometimes the best option because it tends to be small. I prefer to use a necklace, though, because it allows the spell to spread out from the core, rather than, say, the hand. It's semantics, but magic tends to be receptive to symbolism."
Andrew shrugged gently and shifted around in his chair, carefully crossing his legs. The child in his lap stirred a little, then snuggled closer to his chest.
"It doesn't need to be anything expensive. It can literally be a trinket." Something inexpensive, or even disposable. Andrew's mind was whirling with possibilities already.
Ransom nodded again. "Yeah, we're running pretty short on time as it is." It would set him back if he had to secure an item from Eden, Rhys, and Mesteno. Speaking of … "Are you okay with making one of these for someone you don't know? Eden and I are meeting with, and possibly fighting with, a friend of ours. His name's Mesteno."
Andrew arched a brow, then hummed thoughtfully. "Mesteno," he said slowly, tasting the shape of the name in his mouth. Curiously, he used the exact same inflection Ransom had used. "That name sounds familiar."
A cold chill crawled up Ransom's spine when Andrew parroted the name back to him in the exact same way. It was spooky; he'd long ago learned that names held power. He looked a little closer at Andrew.
"Yeah, he's … around my height. Red hair and dusky skin. Bright gold eyes, like a cat." He provided the details, in case that jogged Andrew's memory. Rhydin was a small and incestuous town, after all.
Andrew's smile turned a little apologetic, a little placating, when Ransom seemed to hone in on him. He lifted a hand as if to wave off the offense he hadn't meant to inflict. Names were important in his line of work; he collected them out of habit.
He focused on the details Ransom gave him then. "I think I met him once, down at the docks. Through Eden, of course. He'll be joining you?"
Ransom licked his lips and relaxed a little. Then he gave Andrew a wry smile. He wasn't surprised to hear that Eden had introduced them. "Yeah. Actually, he's the one that's provided us with all of the information so far." A beat. "That stays between us, please."
"Ahh." Andrew nodded his head. "Give him my thanks then. Without that information, my family would be in danger."
Though he gave his thanks, he was careful not to say that he owed Mesteno anything. Certain phrases were important in his line of work, too—and were important to his bloodline. But he could at least agree to do this for the guy and help ensure he went home at the end of the day.
"Yeah, I'll make one for him, too. Is there anyone else?"
The corner of Ransom's mouth tugged up and he again looked at the child in Andrew's lap, just for a moment before meeting Andrew's eyes again. He shook his head. "As far as I know, no one else in our immediate circle is staying, except Koyan, and undoubtedly he's got his own means."
Then, "Thanks for doing this for us."
Andrew inclined his head, silently agreeing about Koyan. He'd only met the guy a couple of times, but he had no doubt Ransom's assessment was true.
He waved off the gratitude. "Of course. It's no trouble." The amount of work that would go into the spell was a small price to pay to ensure that the people he loved and cared for were taken care of.
Ransom smiled and moved to stand. "Excellent. I'll try to have the necklaces to you by this evening." He reached for his jacket.
Andrew's brows arched when Ransom shot up like that. "That sounds good," he agreed. "And when I'm finished, I'll have them couriered to Eden's place. That'll save you the time coming back over here."
He uncrossed his legs, then also moved to stand, taking care not to jostle the kidlet he was holding. This time he bypassed the handshake and lifted his arm to offer Ransom a hug.
"Thanks, man. That'll help a lot." Ransom paused when Andrew climbed to his feet, and then, when he was offered the hug, he took it. He, too, was careful not to jostle Rory.
Andrew kept the hug brief and familial, slapping Ransom lightly on the back. Then he pulled back to look up at him, his dark eyes gone serious. "Take care of yourselves out there, okay? Be sure all of you come back to us. Okay?"
He took a step back, out of Ransom's space. That's when he seemed to notice the remnants of his and his son's lunch strewn out upon the table. He made a face. "My apologies. I should've asked if you wanted something." He gestured at the dishes.
Ransom returned the affection, giving Andrew a light slap on the back, too. Then he met the man's dark gaze. He felt the gravity of that request all the way down to his bones. "We will," he promised. "We'll all come back."
Given space, he shrugged his jacket on and cut an amused look at the table. He shook his head. "I wouldn't have been able to stay," he said ruefully. "As much as I love AIleen's cooking, I just don't have time today." He had too much to do, and as it was, he and Eden would probably end up eating dinner while standing at the kitchen counter, discussing defensive tactics.
"When all this blows over and you guys are back in town, we'll all get together for dinner. How's that?"
A faint smirk stole across Andrew's mouth. "Don't let her hear you say that," he murmured. "She'll take it as a challenge and try to make you something for the road." Then he smiled, fully and warmly. "That sounds great. We'll be looking forward to it."
Despite the men's care, the shift in position had woken Rory and he cracked his eyes open to look at Ransom. His eyes were a little glassy.
"See you guys soon," Ransom told Andrew. “Give Fenn and Sebastian our love.” His and Eden's. Then, noticing Rory was awake, he stroked a light hand over the boy's head. "Feel better, little guy."
With that, he turned and strode from the sunroom. He could show himself out.
“And give Eden ours.” Andrew watched Ransom go, then turned back toward the table and began to carefully stack dishes with his free hand.
Brian met Ransom in the hallway and walked with him to the foyer. As he opened the door for him, he said, "Let us know if you guys need anything else, all right?" He gave Ransom a significant look. In addition to magical implements, the members of this house were armed to the teeth.
Ransom wasn't surprised to feel Brian in his shadow, though it still set the hairs on the back of his neck on end. When they reached the door, he paused on the threshold to turn to the other man. "Thanks. We appreciate that." He cast a glance back the way he'd come. "Make sure they stay safe, yeah?"
He stepped out into the afternoon sunlight and put his sunglasses back on as he made his way to the Audi.
"Of course, Mr. Chandler." The name held an ironic lilt on Brian's tongue. He watched Ransom go to his car, then shut the door and made his way back to the security alcove to get the gate for him.
Ransom shook his head as he climbed into the Audi and keyed the engine. He paused long enough to text Eden:
Good news: AH will send talismans. Checking in with LA, then coming home.
Then he took off down the driveway and toward the next item on his to-do list.
Re: Love Letters
[Originally posted by Ransom on Dragon's Mark. Reposted with permission.]
Pre-War (cont.)
Ransom's meeting with London was brief but efficient. While the guy'd had few ideas that Ransom and Eden hadn't already discussed, he had been able to gift, loan, and sell Ransom a few things they didn't already have. He had also agreed to make some phone calls, and to concoct a potion or two for them, to be delivered as soon as possible.
They had also discussed London's plans for V-Day—he was leaving, had been planning to be absent that day since long before he'd heard about the calls for destruction. When Ransom had asked him whether there was a girl or a guy involved in these plans, London had simply smiled and told him to get the hell out of his house.
Afterward, Ransom had made his way to the marketplace to acquire a few more things he and Eden needed. While he was there, he happened across a gift shop with a boatload of Valentine's Day paraphernalia in the front window. Surely he'd be able to find something inside that he could send to Andrew for enchantment.
It turned out he was right.
There, amid the numerous tables and cases filled with knickknacks, baubles, and gewgaws, he found what he was looking for: suspended from a thin, silvertone chain was a little heart enameled in red, which on the back read Be Mine. Holding the necklace suspended from his fingertips, he could practically hear the curses and growls of indignation such a trinket would elicit from his companions. It made him smile.
He bought four.
Once he'd paid, he promptly carried the bibelots down to the nearest courier shop, dropped them into an envelope, and had them sent to Andrew's house. On his way back to his car with the rest of his purchases, he texted Eden to let her know he was on his way home.
Pre-War (cont.)
Ransom's meeting with London was brief but efficient. While the guy'd had few ideas that Ransom and Eden hadn't already discussed, he had been able to gift, loan, and sell Ransom a few things they didn't already have. He had also agreed to make some phone calls, and to concoct a potion or two for them, to be delivered as soon as possible.
They had also discussed London's plans for V-Day—he was leaving, had been planning to be absent that day since long before he'd heard about the calls for destruction. When Ransom had asked him whether there was a girl or a guy involved in these plans, London had simply smiled and told him to get the hell out of his house.
Afterward, Ransom had made his way to the marketplace to acquire a few more things he and Eden needed. While he was there, he happened across a gift shop with a boatload of Valentine's Day paraphernalia in the front window. Surely he'd be able to find something inside that he could send to Andrew for enchantment.
It turned out he was right.
There, amid the numerous tables and cases filled with knickknacks, baubles, and gewgaws, he found what he was looking for: suspended from a thin, silvertone chain was a little heart enameled in red, which on the back read Be Mine. Holding the necklace suspended from his fingertips, he could practically hear the curses and growls of indignation such a trinket would elicit from his companions. It made him smile.
He bought four.
Once he'd paid, he promptly carried the bibelots down to the nearest courier shop, dropped them into an envelope, and had them sent to Andrew's house. On his way back to his car with the rest of his purchases, he texted Eden to let her know he was on his way home.
Re: Love Letters
[Originally posted by Eden on Dragon's Mark. Reposted with permission.]
Night of Terror: Smoke and Mirrors
The first house had been disappointingly empty.
The second and third contained live targets that Eden and Ransom dispatched with quick skill.
Now they were on their fourth, creeping alongside a rather large residence in an old part of town, crouched below the level of the window sills. Eden heard classical music drifting from inside the rooms and hallways, but did not allow it to distract her.
Paused beneath one such window, she glanced back at Ransom and, with only a look, decided they would enter here. The sash lifted silently after she whispered a spell to mute the sound, though she doubted the occupant would have heard it anyway. She went first, armed with weapons attached to her hips and thighs, as well as a shoulder holster, and crept across a well kept parlor toward the hallway.
With a handgun drawn and held at her side, she shared another glance with Ransom as they silently agreed to go left along the hall, away from the foyer and the front of the home, guessing they'd find the occupant in a deeper part of the house. If not on this floor, then somewhere above.
Every room downstairs turned up empty.
Undeterred, Eden led the way to the stairs, rising slowly, then quickly, until she breached the landing. She swung the gun left and right, listening for sounds other than the music, watching for shadows that were not a part of the natural landscape.
Voices, muted but urgent, spilled from a room at the end of the long hallway.
Now they knew where their target was.
Eden, with Ransom right at her back, wasted no time traversing the distance between the landing and the doorway. She stuck close to the wall, trusting Ransom to watch their backs, and closed in on the target with grim determination.
She eased to a halt just before the wall opened onto the room, and took a deep breath. Readying for battle, for the unexpected. For bloodshed.
The gun swung first around the corner; she followed.
No matter how mentally prepared she thought she was, nothing could have prepared her for this: the three men standing around a mahogany table, gesturing to spots on a map, while a child, a boy no more than two and a half, dragged a toy train along the floor at their feet.
The point of attacking these bastards early was to get them before they had a chance to kill non-humans. The point, dammit, was to strike and strike hard, eliminate as many of them as possible with few civilian casualties. Which was why they were showing up in homes, not businesses, nor in random places on the streets.
Her mouth went dry. The gun wavered.
At the table, the men stopped talking and snapped looks toward the door.
Fuck. Fuck.
She was about to inadvertently change this child's life forever. One of these men was his father, of course, and she was about to permanently end him. On impulse, Eden shouted a veiling chant, shielding the child, even as two of the men at the table drew weapons.
Seconds inched by. Tick, tick, tick.
She was vaguely aware of a bullet grazing her shoulder, and of movement in periphery from Ransom.
Then more bullets flew. From her own gun, aiming for hearts and brains.
It's them or us. Them or us.
Two of her shots missed, punching into elegant mahogany bookcases flanking the table.
Ransom was there, thank all the gods, ending lives with vicious precision. Before she knew it he was covered in blood, their blood, with one man lying dead on the floor.
Her third shot struck true.
Holstering the weapon, she left Ransom to finish the job and scooped the boy off the floor. He looked bewildered, eyes wide. Eden had spared him the worst of it, but she did not want him to see what came next. She did not want this innocent baby to be exposed to blood and guts, innards and gore.
It was no hardship to find the tot's bedroom, with blue sailboats painted on the walls and a 'big boy' bed covered in Buzz Lightyear décor. Eden set him on the edge of the bed and knelt before him, brushing a lock of dark hair away from his brow. She almost came apart at the seams when his chin quivered.
In a lilting, quiet voice, Eden told the boy a story, one designed to erase the worst of the horror from his memory. She wielded magic with a steady hand despite her racing heart, and promised the boy everything would be all right.
Outside some minutes later, blood seeping down the side of her arm, she used her phone to call Paiva.
“Send someone over to Five thirty-five Mimosa street. There's a little boy who needs help. Dunno where his mom is, hopin' she'll show up soon.” Eden ended the call, assured that backup would be there shortly.
She accompanied Ransom back to the portal, which led them back to the meeting spot with Mesteno and Rhys, and tried to turn her mind to the next target on the list rather than dwell on what had just happened.
It was part of war. A war she had not started.
But she knew, knew as well as she was standing there bleeding all over the floor, that she would never forget the little boy who'd been at the wrong place, at the wrong time, whose life would never be the same again.
Night of Terror: Smoke and Mirrors
The first house had been disappointingly empty.
The second and third contained live targets that Eden and Ransom dispatched with quick skill.
Now they were on their fourth, creeping alongside a rather large residence in an old part of town, crouched below the level of the window sills. Eden heard classical music drifting from inside the rooms and hallways, but did not allow it to distract her.
Paused beneath one such window, she glanced back at Ransom and, with only a look, decided they would enter here. The sash lifted silently after she whispered a spell to mute the sound, though she doubted the occupant would have heard it anyway. She went first, armed with weapons attached to her hips and thighs, as well as a shoulder holster, and crept across a well kept parlor toward the hallway.
With a handgun drawn and held at her side, she shared another glance with Ransom as they silently agreed to go left along the hall, away from the foyer and the front of the home, guessing they'd find the occupant in a deeper part of the house. If not on this floor, then somewhere above.
Every room downstairs turned up empty.
Undeterred, Eden led the way to the stairs, rising slowly, then quickly, until she breached the landing. She swung the gun left and right, listening for sounds other than the music, watching for shadows that were not a part of the natural landscape.
Voices, muted but urgent, spilled from a room at the end of the long hallway.
Now they knew where their target was.
Eden, with Ransom right at her back, wasted no time traversing the distance between the landing and the doorway. She stuck close to the wall, trusting Ransom to watch their backs, and closed in on the target with grim determination.
She eased to a halt just before the wall opened onto the room, and took a deep breath. Readying for battle, for the unexpected. For bloodshed.
The gun swung first around the corner; she followed.
No matter how mentally prepared she thought she was, nothing could have prepared her for this: the three men standing around a mahogany table, gesturing to spots on a map, while a child, a boy no more than two and a half, dragged a toy train along the floor at their feet.
The point of attacking these bastards early was to get them before they had a chance to kill non-humans. The point, dammit, was to strike and strike hard, eliminate as many of them as possible with few civilian casualties. Which was why they were showing up in homes, not businesses, nor in random places on the streets.
Her mouth went dry. The gun wavered.
At the table, the men stopped talking and snapped looks toward the door.
Fuck. Fuck.
She was about to inadvertently change this child's life forever. One of these men was his father, of course, and she was about to permanently end him. On impulse, Eden shouted a veiling chant, shielding the child, even as two of the men at the table drew weapons.
Seconds inched by. Tick, tick, tick.
She was vaguely aware of a bullet grazing her shoulder, and of movement in periphery from Ransom.
Then more bullets flew. From her own gun, aiming for hearts and brains.
It's them or us. Them or us.
Two of her shots missed, punching into elegant mahogany bookcases flanking the table.
Ransom was there, thank all the gods, ending lives with vicious precision. Before she knew it he was covered in blood, their blood, with one man lying dead on the floor.
Her third shot struck true.
Holstering the weapon, she left Ransom to finish the job and scooped the boy off the floor. He looked bewildered, eyes wide. Eden had spared him the worst of it, but she did not want him to see what came next. She did not want this innocent baby to be exposed to blood and guts, innards and gore.
It was no hardship to find the tot's bedroom, with blue sailboats painted on the walls and a 'big boy' bed covered in Buzz Lightyear décor. Eden set him on the edge of the bed and knelt before him, brushing a lock of dark hair away from his brow. She almost came apart at the seams when his chin quivered.
In a lilting, quiet voice, Eden told the boy a story, one designed to erase the worst of the horror from his memory. She wielded magic with a steady hand despite her racing heart, and promised the boy everything would be all right.
Outside some minutes later, blood seeping down the side of her arm, she used her phone to call Paiva.
“Send someone over to Five thirty-five Mimosa street. There's a little boy who needs help. Dunno where his mom is, hopin' she'll show up soon.” Eden ended the call, assured that backup would be there shortly.
She accompanied Ransom back to the portal, which led them back to the meeting spot with Mesteno and Rhys, and tried to turn her mind to the next target on the list rather than dwell on what had just happened.
It was part of war. A war she had not started.
But she knew, knew as well as she was standing there bleeding all over the floor, that she would never forget the little boy who'd been at the wrong place, at the wrong time, whose life would never be the same again.
Re: Love Letters
13th of February, 2017
Mesteno had spent more time on his phone in the few days prior to the 14th than he had in the entire year previously. Beyond the predictable warnings – Stay out of the city, and keep your friends out too – there had been allies to organise, warding to coordinate, and some pride to swallow.
Alain had been sent word to pull his mole out to avoid him getting caught in the cross-fire. Jason had agreed to play liaison as the assault teams took out their targets, issuing warnings when the meeting houses under surveillance were approached by anyone, suspicious or otherwise, and keeping them informed of one another’s status. Lexius had agreed to assist in some protection for the known refuges and businesses already in receipt of threats of violence. Koyan and Eli (the former warned off previously, but recruited when preliminary planning had suggested poor odds for a three man team) had both been approached in the hope they’d lend their combat skills. It was a formidable assembly, all said and done, but Mesteno still worried about the outcome.
Whilst Eden and Ransom’s initial three targets had been smooth sailing, he had foul luck right off the bat.
Seven men in combat gear with their weapons within easy reach occupied a dining hall turned briefing room, avidly watching footage shot of targeted businesses. An eighth man, clearly higher ranking directed their attention to stills of the owners, zealously reminding them of their casus belli.
The Cleanse was essential, the Temple of the Divine Mother was the authority all loyal and untainted humans should heed. They were to be the vanguard, the ones remembered for the risks they took in her service!
“Who the fu—“
Mesteno had been so intent on the group he’d been observing that he hadn’t caught the lone figure emerging from the kitchen behind him. The knife he wedged into the side of his throat ended his expletive on a gurgle before he tore the blade out and forward, ripping through his windpipe and carotid.
The noise had already drawn the attention of his comrades though, the element of surprise lost, and then everything went muffled as a half dozen guns spat bullets and the noise assaulted his ear drums. So much for stealth.
Three shots punched holes in the cadaver with the gaping throat, a convenient meat shield, while the rest tore the staircase behind him to splinters.
Mesteno scrambled clear of the doorway, but didn’t reach for his firearm.
He hadn’t intended to go to extremes so early, but then he’d been hoping to slink from A to B drawing only minimal attention. He dashed a small, rectangular container of glass against the doorframe, and bolted, throwing himself into the next room as a wall of darkness erupted behind him. It blotted out the illumination, cloaked the windows, left the mercenaries struggling against a terrible, dragging gravity that kept them within the blinding veil even as they strained and cursed to give chase.
The necromancer counted to three under his breath.
There was a sound like an animal roaring, the impact of objects colliding against the walls, a few abbreviated cries, then the heavier thumps of falling bodies and overturned furniture.
Jaw clenched and tension in every muscle, Mesteno picked himself up off the floor and cast a cautious glance at the wall above his head. Nothing had torn through – not just a partition wall then. Good, solid brick. If it’d been dry wall, he’d probably have been just as sickeningly mutilated as the dead men he picked his way over in the next room.
The nasty little anti-personnel device had been one of his own designs, a combination of shadow manipulation and good old fashioned science. Condensing highly reactive metals that ignited when exposed to oxygen into a ball of choking darkness, he’d limited its area of effect to the precise spread of that darkness once freed of the glass. It had taken some practice to perfect. The snap back of the shadows once the element ignited had put the fire out as spontaneously as it had erupted, pulling lingering particles bound to it, and the air it encapsulated, into the plane of shadow. But not so rapidly, of course, as to spare those trapped within the gloom from being cooked.
The corpses were too charred to be recognisable, and as much of them was splattered up the walls as clinging to their blackened bones. He’d thought he’d recognised the soldier giving the briefing from the dossier Alain had given him, but there would be nothing of his corpse to salvage for questioning now. The charnel house stink was appalling, and he didn’t waste his time searching the seared room for anything worthwhile.
“Nine down on Savages Row,” he called in to Jason. “Think I may’ve peaked early. Moving on to the target on Chapel Lane in Old Town.”
He didn’t linger on the line, waiting only long enough for news of other neutralised locations and the assurance that there had been no casualties reported amongst their diverse team.
It was Chapel Lane, refuge of only a solitary temple soldier that afforded Mesteno the opportunity he’d been waiting for. He might have felt sorry for the man, fast asleep and slack jawed if it hadn’t been for what he knew loomed on the 14th.
He took him, walking as any living man might, back to the rendezvous point, glassy eyed and relatively whole, but spared the rot an unclaimed corpse would fast succumb to.
“Let everyone know I have an intact subject for interrogation waiting at the meeting spot,” Mesteno told Jason, grudgingly ignoring the temptation to let them stumble over the corpse unaware instead. Alain wasn’t the only one who had a talent for extracting information, and he intended to repay DeMuer, even if only in some small way, for having the faith to share the dossier with a group of virtual strangers.
They might not have been able to prevent the imminent chaos, but at the very least they’d reduced the casualty figures.
Mesteno had spent more time on his phone in the few days prior to the 14th than he had in the entire year previously. Beyond the predictable warnings – Stay out of the city, and keep your friends out too – there had been allies to organise, warding to coordinate, and some pride to swallow.
Alain had been sent word to pull his mole out to avoid him getting caught in the cross-fire. Jason had agreed to play liaison as the assault teams took out their targets, issuing warnings when the meeting houses under surveillance were approached by anyone, suspicious or otherwise, and keeping them informed of one another’s status. Lexius had agreed to assist in some protection for the known refuges and businesses already in receipt of threats of violence. Koyan and Eli (the former warned off previously, but recruited when preliminary planning had suggested poor odds for a three man team) had both been approached in the hope they’d lend their combat skills. It was a formidable assembly, all said and done, but Mesteno still worried about the outcome.
Whilst Eden and Ransom’s initial three targets had been smooth sailing, he had foul luck right off the bat.
Seven men in combat gear with their weapons within easy reach occupied a dining hall turned briefing room, avidly watching footage shot of targeted businesses. An eighth man, clearly higher ranking directed their attention to stills of the owners, zealously reminding them of their casus belli.
The Cleanse was essential, the Temple of the Divine Mother was the authority all loyal and untainted humans should heed. They were to be the vanguard, the ones remembered for the risks they took in her service!
“Who the fu—“
Mesteno had been so intent on the group he’d been observing that he hadn’t caught the lone figure emerging from the kitchen behind him. The knife he wedged into the side of his throat ended his expletive on a gurgle before he tore the blade out and forward, ripping through his windpipe and carotid.
The noise had already drawn the attention of his comrades though, the element of surprise lost, and then everything went muffled as a half dozen guns spat bullets and the noise assaulted his ear drums. So much for stealth.
Three shots punched holes in the cadaver with the gaping throat, a convenient meat shield, while the rest tore the staircase behind him to splinters.
Mesteno scrambled clear of the doorway, but didn’t reach for his firearm.
He hadn’t intended to go to extremes so early, but then he’d been hoping to slink from A to B drawing only minimal attention. He dashed a small, rectangular container of glass against the doorframe, and bolted, throwing himself into the next room as a wall of darkness erupted behind him. It blotted out the illumination, cloaked the windows, left the mercenaries struggling against a terrible, dragging gravity that kept them within the blinding veil even as they strained and cursed to give chase.
The necromancer counted to three under his breath.
There was a sound like an animal roaring, the impact of objects colliding against the walls, a few abbreviated cries, then the heavier thumps of falling bodies and overturned furniture.
Jaw clenched and tension in every muscle, Mesteno picked himself up off the floor and cast a cautious glance at the wall above his head. Nothing had torn through – not just a partition wall then. Good, solid brick. If it’d been dry wall, he’d probably have been just as sickeningly mutilated as the dead men he picked his way over in the next room.
The nasty little anti-personnel device had been one of his own designs, a combination of shadow manipulation and good old fashioned science. Condensing highly reactive metals that ignited when exposed to oxygen into a ball of choking darkness, he’d limited its area of effect to the precise spread of that darkness once freed of the glass. It had taken some practice to perfect. The snap back of the shadows once the element ignited had put the fire out as spontaneously as it had erupted, pulling lingering particles bound to it, and the air it encapsulated, into the plane of shadow. But not so rapidly, of course, as to spare those trapped within the gloom from being cooked.
The corpses were too charred to be recognisable, and as much of them was splattered up the walls as clinging to their blackened bones. He’d thought he’d recognised the soldier giving the briefing from the dossier Alain had given him, but there would be nothing of his corpse to salvage for questioning now. The charnel house stink was appalling, and he didn’t waste his time searching the seared room for anything worthwhile.
“Nine down on Savages Row,” he called in to Jason. “Think I may’ve peaked early. Moving on to the target on Chapel Lane in Old Town.”
He didn’t linger on the line, waiting only long enough for news of other neutralised locations and the assurance that there had been no casualties reported amongst their diverse team.
It was Chapel Lane, refuge of only a solitary temple soldier that afforded Mesteno the opportunity he’d been waiting for. He might have felt sorry for the man, fast asleep and slack jawed if it hadn’t been for what he knew loomed on the 14th.
He took him, walking as any living man might, back to the rendezvous point, glassy eyed and relatively whole, but spared the rot an unclaimed corpse would fast succumb to.
“Let everyone know I have an intact subject for interrogation waiting at the meeting spot,” Mesteno told Jason, grudgingly ignoring the temptation to let them stumble over the corpse unaware instead. Alain wasn’t the only one who had a talent for extracting information, and he intended to repay DeMuer, even if only in some small way, for having the faith to share the dossier with a group of virtual strangers.
They might not have been able to prevent the imminent chaos, but at the very least they’d reduced the casualty figures.
Re: Love Letters
[Originally posted by Ransom on Dragon's Mark. Reposted with permission.]
Night of Terror: Smoke and Mirrors (Cont.)
February 13, 2017
Having Eden take point was a compromise Ransom had been sure he could live with—right up until they reached that upper room in the fourth house. That moment of hesitation from Eden was all the warning he got. When he turned from covering their backsides, he wasn't expecting to see a child.
Almost too late, he saw the three men in the room reaching for their weapons.
While Eden called out the first syllables of her veiling cantrip, Ransom flipped one of the knives he held and threw it at the fastest of the men. The blade sank deeply into the muscle beneath the man's shoulder, forcing him to drop his weapon. Ransom was already in motion, surging through the doorway past Eden by the time it hit the table.
The two other men fired at Eden and Ransom felt the hot sting of lead punching through his side as he put himself between them and her. It shocked him to feel the bullets connect. Not because it was an unfamiliar sensation, but because of the talismans he had gotten from Andrew. They were designed to prevent this, he'd thought. It was no matter now, he supposed, as he threw himself at one of the men. The man's back collided hard with the edge of the table, sending it skidding backward several feet, and Ransom heard the soft, wet pop of bone snapping.
He heard it again when he twisted the man's head brutally around, putting an abrupt end to his struggles.
Another report of gunfire left his ears ringing. The third man fired again, attempting to turn the table over and provide himself coverage. Ransom drew another knife and leapt over the edge of the table to fall upon him the way a lion falls upon a gazelle. The man went down thrashing, firing haphazardly while they fought. Ransom slashed the tendons in his wrists, then did the same with his throat, reducing him to a dying, gurgling mess.
When Ransom straightened up, the man he had struck with the first knife was down, a neat little hole in his forehead, courtesies of Eden's aim. A halo of darkness was spreading rapidly away from his head.
Eden was gone, and so was the child. It didn't take a genius to put two and two together.
While she dealt with the little one, Ransom went around the room and ensured every man was dead. He was tempted to take the maps with him, but those materials would help connect these men to the crimes they had been planning, so he left them and instead took a few moments to pry three bullets out of the wall and bookcases facing the doorway, hoping that he had gotten all of those that had come from Eden's pistol. The blood spatters on the floor and furniture were probably a lost cause, unless they decided to take a while and mop it up, and Ransom quickly dismissed that idea and went in search of Eden.
He found her down the hall in a room obviously belonging to a child. While she finished telling the little boy that story, Ransom hung back, just beyond the doorway where the shadows were thicker. He lurked there like a monster that belonged beneath the boy's bed, listening to the final phrases in the child's new memories—and felt his heart clench painfully.
The sight of Eden with a child so small was a bittersweet thing that made him ache in ways he didn't have time to analyze.
Once she'd put the child down to bed, as it were, Ransom took a final look at the boy and then followed her out. He wondered if perhaps it were a kinder thing to remove the child from the house altogether, but Eden had Paiva on the line, so he ceded control of that part of the situation and focused on getting Eden and himself back to the rendezvous point they had set up with Mesteno and Rhys.
Later, he was still thinking about the child—and his own conflicted feelings—while he wrapped Eden's shoulder. He was thinking about his woman, too, and that swell of sadness and regret he could taste in her scent. It was going to be a long and emotional night.
But, he told himself, at least they were both more or less whole. The bullets that had struck them had missed anything vital. He supposed he could thank Andrew for that.
Night of Terror: Smoke and Mirrors (Cont.)
February 13, 2017
Having Eden take point was a compromise Ransom had been sure he could live with—right up until they reached that upper room in the fourth house. That moment of hesitation from Eden was all the warning he got. When he turned from covering their backsides, he wasn't expecting to see a child.
Almost too late, he saw the three men in the room reaching for their weapons.
While Eden called out the first syllables of her veiling cantrip, Ransom flipped one of the knives he held and threw it at the fastest of the men. The blade sank deeply into the muscle beneath the man's shoulder, forcing him to drop his weapon. Ransom was already in motion, surging through the doorway past Eden by the time it hit the table.
The two other men fired at Eden and Ransom felt the hot sting of lead punching through his side as he put himself between them and her. It shocked him to feel the bullets connect. Not because it was an unfamiliar sensation, but because of the talismans he had gotten from Andrew. They were designed to prevent this, he'd thought. It was no matter now, he supposed, as he threw himself at one of the men. The man's back collided hard with the edge of the table, sending it skidding backward several feet, and Ransom heard the soft, wet pop of bone snapping.
He heard it again when he twisted the man's head brutally around, putting an abrupt end to his struggles.
Another report of gunfire left his ears ringing. The third man fired again, attempting to turn the table over and provide himself coverage. Ransom drew another knife and leapt over the edge of the table to fall upon him the way a lion falls upon a gazelle. The man went down thrashing, firing haphazardly while they fought. Ransom slashed the tendons in his wrists, then did the same with his throat, reducing him to a dying, gurgling mess.
When Ransom straightened up, the man he had struck with the first knife was down, a neat little hole in his forehead, courtesies of Eden's aim. A halo of darkness was spreading rapidly away from his head.
Eden was gone, and so was the child. It didn't take a genius to put two and two together.
While she dealt with the little one, Ransom went around the room and ensured every man was dead. He was tempted to take the maps with him, but those materials would help connect these men to the crimes they had been planning, so he left them and instead took a few moments to pry three bullets out of the wall and bookcases facing the doorway, hoping that he had gotten all of those that had come from Eden's pistol. The blood spatters on the floor and furniture were probably a lost cause, unless they decided to take a while and mop it up, and Ransom quickly dismissed that idea and went in search of Eden.
He found her down the hall in a room obviously belonging to a child. While she finished telling the little boy that story, Ransom hung back, just beyond the doorway where the shadows were thicker. He lurked there like a monster that belonged beneath the boy's bed, listening to the final phrases in the child's new memories—and felt his heart clench painfully.
The sight of Eden with a child so small was a bittersweet thing that made him ache in ways he didn't have time to analyze.
Once she'd put the child down to bed, as it were, Ransom took a final look at the boy and then followed her out. He wondered if perhaps it were a kinder thing to remove the child from the house altogether, but Eden had Paiva on the line, so he ceded control of that part of the situation and focused on getting Eden and himself back to the rendezvous point they had set up with Mesteno and Rhys.
Later, he was still thinking about the child—and his own conflicted feelings—while he wrapped Eden's shoulder. He was thinking about his woman, too, and that swell of sadness and regret he could taste in her scent. It was going to be a long and emotional night.
But, he told himself, at least they were both more or less whole. The bullets that had struck them had missed anything vital. He supposed he could thank Andrew for that.
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