by R. W. Holmes
Kennedy and Cypress practically sprang out of their seats as they stood up and sprinted for the door
“Seriously?” Sauriel said to the priest. “Did you really just do that? That's a demon you're endorsing with freedom. Saint Peter will have much to say to you about that when it's your turn to be judged...”
“And what about you?” asked Jacobs. “Isn't it time for you to depart? Your work here is done.”
“No, I just let you trick me” replied Sauriel. “I am damned to vinegar chips and alcohol for a time until I've redeemed myself.”
Father Jacobs gasped apprehensively. “Does that mean killing the demon anyway?”
“Absolutely not” said Sauriel. “You and I are not the only ones who made decisions on that, and the others must be made to suffer the natural consequences, whatever they may be. That's fine, though. The things that require intervention have multiplied considerably since Gael Walsh summoned the first demon in a thousand years...”
Father Jacobs sipped his drink and sighed in melancholy. “I'll be joining you, won't I?”
“When Heaven sends you on a mission and you fail, it takes more than a few Hail Mary's to atone for it” Sauriel replied dryly.
Gael and Shay, for all of their differences, had both slumped over into a quick nap. Emily's favorite terrible soap opera had, for Gael especially, worn out its welcome after the several hours he'd watched prior. And so, when Argyle returned, he did so slamming the door shut behind him.
“HUH!?” Gael and Shay exclaimed in unison.
“Argyle, wonderful” Emily said immediately. “Everyone is ready for you.”
Argyle nodded back apprehensively and stepped to the front of the room, before tuning off the TV and clearing his throat.
“Allen Olmstead returned to Earth approximately six hours after I received word from Emily of him acquiring the Four-Seal Scroll” started Argyle. “Station, please display file A-O-Itinerary, please.”
Gael blinked once in surprise as an extremely detailed account of Allen Olmstead's last eighteen hours lit up the large TV screen behind Argyle.
“Unfortunately, Allen Olmstead isn't moving as if he's doing anything important” continued Argyle. “His movements to acquire the scroll were very strange, so I imagine he's doing his best to appear ordinary in the event that someone like myself is watching him.”
Gael stood up and stepped over to the screen to get a better look at it.
“This is really detailed” he said in surprise. “You have the routes he's been taking to get around, and even marked every place he stopped in traffic.”
“I wanted to have something more substantial ready...” Argyle muttered despairingly. “But there's nothing here. He's found a way to hand off the scroll without leaving any evidence of it, or worse, he's just holding onto it because he knows that he can.”
Gael continued to look at Argyle's notes. Where Allen had stopped for food, where he'd laid his head down for the night, and the complete lack of visitors he'd had were all happily displayed in complete detail in Argyle's notes.
“Allen Olmstead isn't moving as if he has the Four-Seal Scroll” said Gael. “What if he's moving that way because he doesn't have the Four-Seal Scroll?”
“That's impossible!” snapped Argyle. “Here, look.”
Gael watched as Argyle selected a small video file in his notes, and security footage of Allen getting on a ship in Eiffel with the small safe-like case that contained the scroll began to play.
“Right, I'm not objecting to that” replied Gael. “But the only blind spot we have right now is inside Allen's ship. He couldn't have jettisoned something, because it says in your notes that he took a 'typical' flight route, so all he would've gotten is a big fat fine for leaving debris in a major flight lane.
No, do you have footage of when he landed? And footage of his ship after he left?”
“Yeah” said Argyle. “Why?”
“Pull up the cleaning crew” said Gael. “I'm willing to bet they showed up with a trashcan large enough to hide the safe.”
Argyle did as he was told, a noticeable enthusiasm in his movements as he fished a keyboard out of a drawer in the center of the conference table and began accessing his extraordinarily copious amounts of logged security footage.
“Here!” exclaimed Argyle.
Gael, Emily, Shay, Zinerva, and Argyle all watched as three men and a cart of cleaning supplies boarded Allen Olmstead's sleek and enormous space-yacht.
“Computer!” Argyle called out. “Launch my tracking algorithm. I want to know where all three of those men when after this!”
The computer split the footage into three separate screens, and played back each of the men on the cleaning crew going about their days at ten times speed. Two of them returned to work as normal, while the third loaded a safe into his van and drove off almost immediately after cleaning the ship.
“Son of a bitch!” screamed Argyle. “It's going to take me hours to find out where the safe has ended up!”
“That's fine” Emily said quickly. “Gael, come on, we're going down to Earth. Argyle, hit us with the update when you know more.”
Argyle nodded as Gael, Shay, and Zinerva hurried out the conference room door after Emily.
“Is this smart?” asked Gael. “Because it feels like we're going to do something pretty dangerous.”
“We won't be alone” Emily replied reassuringly. “I'm going to call in a favor from some old friendemies.”
Gael's face screwed up in confusion as he asked, “What the hell is a friendemy?”
“It's a friend” replied Shay. “Who, depending on the situation, is also sometimes an enemy.”
Thanks to Argyle's relatively close proximity to Earth, the flight down the surface took only an hour. When they arrived, they circled the planet until Argyle could tell them where to land.
Much to Gael's chagrin, it turned out to be none other than his own hometown, Boston.
The group quickly landed at one of the smaller local starports and rented a sedan from one of the nearer rental agencies.
“Alright” Emily said as she and the others took their seats in the car. “Let me just...”
Gael waited patiently as Emily hooked her phone up to the car's dashboard, before looking out to the painfully familiar sight of the city in the distance.
“You're from here, right?” Zinerva asked excitedly. “Can we visit your grandmother's grave?”
“Why would you want to do that?” asked Gael.
Zinerva shrugged. “I don't know. I looked it up online, they say you're supposed to bring flowers to graves of people you know.”
“Okay first of all, where are you finding this information?” replied Gael. “And second, we're going to stay away from that part of the city if we can. It'll be easier that way.”
“But-,” Zinerva started.
“Call Argyle” said Emily.
The phone began to ring, its sound reverberating out through the car's speakers and shushing Zinerva in the process.
“Hello?”
“Argyle, hey, it's us” said Emily. “Lock onto my phone and tell me where we're heading.”
“Right, just a second...” Argyle murmured as he worked. “Manchester? That's actually not too far from where I need you to go.”
“Don't say Na-,” Gael whispered to himself.
“Nashua” said Argyle. “I need you to get to Nashua. The safe ended up at a warehouse there, and our contacts will be waiting for you at a local deli called TJ's. It's really really public, been there forever, should be safe.”
“Great” said Emily. “We're on our way.”
Gael grimaced as the car's engine roared to life and they set out down some very familiar roads.
“Have you been to this place, Gael?” asked Zinerva.
“Yes” Gael replied uncomfortably. “I have. A lot of people go there.”
Emily gasped. “Oh no!” she said quickly. “You wanted to stay dead!”
“
Forget that” Gael said quickly. “I don't have any close living family, I just didn't want Angelica and Kennedy to know I wasn't having a huge family crisis like they were. I'm more worried about the people in the city who will recognize me.”
“Why?” asked Emily. “Aren't you the wonderkid who solved an ancient cold case?”
Gael's grimace intensified. “Yes.”
The drive, for all the dread it bought Gael, was a pleasant one, if not a little noisy for Argyle's insistence that he give them moment by moment directions. They made fantastic time to the deli, a fact Gael knew all too well, and arrived to see it was just as busy as promised.
“Who are we dealing with, exactly?” Emily asked as she killed the engine.
“Oscar Geist and his fae, Dover” replied Argyle. “As per your request, Oscar is not one of The Chosen.”
“Thank you” said Emily. “Jacky was Chosen, and we killed her. I'm not about to go in there knowing full well that The Chosen don't believe in silly things like 'consequences' or 'decency' if they're involved.”
“Maybe it's best if I wait out here” said Gael. “That way if anything happens and you need to make an escape, I'll be right here at the wheel.”
“No” hissed Emily. “Absolutely not, we've got leverage on the Fae now, so they can't touch you. Now we need to get them comfortable with playing nice.”
“Yes, do that” Argyle chimed in anxiously. “I, uh... It's a place you can go that I can't, metaphorically speaking.”
“Shay, make Zinerva disappear” Emily said next. “I think it's best if she's our silent eye this time. If the R'lyehans have gotten wind of this and they show up, we're going to need someone who can hit them before they're close enough to use the civilians as shields.”
Shay nodded and, with a flick of her wrist and an almost comical burst of fairy dust, made Zinerva vanish.
“There's a little piece of me that wanted to just never say anything again and run off” said Zinerva. “You know, so you'd think she really made me-,”
“Okay, let's go!” Gael said as he opened his door.
“Oh come on!” Zinerva groaned as she stealthily followed Shay out through the door on her side. “It's a joke!”
Meanwhile, Emily had taken notice of the fact that Gael was trying very hard to get a look at everyone in the area.
“Is everything alright?” she asked him.
“Nope” Gael replied honestly. “But I might just be overreacting... Let's hurry this up, alright?”
“Right, we don't have any reason to waste any time” agreed Emily.
“Shay!”
“What is it, Zinerva?” asked Shay.
“Hide your wings!”
Shay blinked once, and then clapped a hand to her forehead as she covered her defining features up.
“Better?” she muttered ashamedly.
“Yes” said Zinerva. “You're officially just a midget.”
“Little person.”
“That's what a midget is, yes.”
Gael's increasing paranoia only grew worse as he followed Emily and Shay up to the front door of the deli. Their entrance into the establishment went without incident though, and the quaint interior and obliviously happy patrons seemed to quell any possibility of an incident.
Scanning the dining area, Emily quickly spotted an older man dressed in a plain leather jacket sitting beside a much younger man whose handsome features seemed to get a little fuzzy the moment a closer look was taken. The elder was in his early thirties, and wore a starkly serious neutral expression. The younger man was an entirely different beast, though. His expression was a kind and happy one, but it was somehow without detail. Any attempt at getting a closer look merely clouded the viewer's mind even more.
“Ah, I see” Emily said as she began leading everyone over. “Dover is a faun.”
“A what?” asked Gael.
“He's fooling us and everyone in here right now into thinking he looks like something he's not” continued Emily. “That's why things get fuzzy if you look right at him. You have to be careful of fauns anywhere you're in a place with music.”
Emily shot an accusing look at the jukebox in the corner for emphasis, before continuing to lead the group over.
“I think he's wondering what a faun is, not what it does” said Shay.
“It's like... a satyr” replied Emily. “Sort of. Wait, no, yeah, it's totally a satyr. Didn't satyrs happen because someone in the Fae way back then went AWOL?”
“Yes” Shay replied as she boldly went forward and took the first seat at the table.
“Princess” the older man, Oscar, said to Shay with a bow. “The Fae are very impressed with what you've managed right now, if a little concerned for the fire you're playing with...”
Gael frowned as Oscar looked to him, before saying. “It was literally a school project, man” he said defensively. “I'm not some anti-Christ to wage a holy crusade against, get over it.”
“Aw, don't take it that way!” Dover chimed in brightly. “It's a compliment. Now, unless my ears deceive me, you all were talking about my kind while you were walking over here...”
“Not now, Dover” insisted Oscar. “Business first.”
“But what is the business?” said Dover, immediately picking up the torch Oscar had passed to him. “Why are the Outcasts, so soon after our worst confrontation in decades, immediately asking us for help?”
“There was an incident involving a runner and some things he stole” replied Emily. “And now the R'lyehans have an artifact no one knows anything about called the Four Seal Scroll. This wouldn't bother us normally, except that it was Death who masterminded it ending up in their possession.”
Oscar and Dover exchanged a pair of incredulous looks.
“You mean... Death Death” said Dover.
Gael smirked as he felt Zinerva's small hand grip his arm anxiously.
“I don't think that's his surname” he said sarcastically.
“Really?” Oscar replied incredulously. “Jokes?”
Emily cleared her throat and folded her hands as she placed them on the table. “We are here for a reason” she said seriously. “We've managed to track where the R'lyehans are taking the Four Seal Scroll, and we want some support in getting it back. The Fae can have the damn thing, if that makes it easier for you. Our only concern, as should be yours, is that the R'lyehans don't have it.”
“Isn't this your problem, though?” asked Oscar. “You adopted the demonologist, and this wasn't happening before he arrived.”
“That's one of the more puzzling parts of this, actually” said Emily. “We don't know how the R'lyehans talked with Death, only that Death created a hostage situation with us because he was already working with them.”
“Ah ha...” Oscar mumbled thoughtfully. “Well, some of it is universally alarming then, I suppose.”
The usual seriousness in the air thickened, and Gael silently brushed it aside. None of the posturing and doom and gloom that had become his daily life seemed to affect him anymore, but the fact that he was finally noticing how he himself had become numb to it did.
'Why am I okay with all of this?' Gael thought quickly to himself.
The air in the room grew heavy, and the music and the talking was suddenly replaced by the pounding of his own beating heart.
'Oh shit, am I having a mental breakdown?' he thought worriedly to himself. 'Or a panic attack? Enterprise Island just happened! Jesus Christ, what was I thinking? This happened when grandma died, too. I was perfectly fine for a full week, and then I just-,”
“Gael?”
Gael looked over at Emily, his expression still distant and vacant.
“Huh?” he queried. “Sorry, I was spacing out. Just, uh... Hometown jitters.”
“Oh, are you a local?” asked Oscar. “So am I, maybe we've...”
Gael visibly flinched as Oscar suddenly realized who he was sitting with.
“Holy shit” said Oscar.
“Holy shit” ad
ded Dover, equally amazed.
“What?” asked Emily. “What's wrong?”
“Uh... we need to go somewhere else” replied Oscar. “Before someone notices.”
“It's been years” replied Gael. “No one has noticed yet. It'll be fine.”
“He put away Donald Haverson after figuring out he was the guy who'd stolen a bunch of cars several decades back” said Oscar. “But Donald... he was a legend. His name is in every park, and on half of the public community buildings. He also donated all the money for the local library, and his factories employ seven thousand locals.”
“The judge liked him so much that he gave Donald the minimum for every car he stole, five years for five cars” continued Dover. “Donald was stabbed with a prison shank during his third year, though. There must have been a thousand people at his funeral... Hell! We were there!”
Emily looked about herself, Gael's earlier paranoia suddenly extremely contagious. “We need to go” she said quickly.
“No” hissed Gael. “I'm here now, and I'm not leaving until we're done. These people can all go fuck themselves.”
“Jesus Christ...” Emily groaned in dismay. “Oscar, can we even trust you? Are you going to take this as personally as everyone else?”
“Oh, I don't care about that” Oscar said reassuringly. “The asshole stole cars, and stealing cars has consequences. We should really leave, though. The local paper put the words 'good riddance' next to Aggie Walsh's obituary, and it's framed right over there on the wall.”
Gael's head snapped around to look at the framed newspaper clipping, and the urge to stand up immediately overtook him.
“On an unrelated note, felony destruction of property gives a maximum of ten years, and everyone here hates you” said Dover.
Gael stood up anyway, but made the wise decision to head for the door instead. His staring had not gone unnoticed though, and his standing up only drew more attention.
“Oh God” Emily said as she watched several other patrons in the deli stand up from their tables. “They've realized who he is. What do we do?”
“Dover and I will slip out the back” said Oscar. “When you've lost the mob, come meet us at this address.”