Dark Redemption chapter 53: Everything is Connected

Beneath the gleaming skyscrapers and picturesque facade of the City of Redemption lies another city; a community of dark and ancient magic populated by creatures of the night. Dark Redemption is a shared-world novel based on an online role-playing game by James Crowther.

Strephon Mackenzie, a semi-immortal half-fae has been tasked by the Faerie Queen with the mission of investigating a renegade faerie lord named Melchior who has established himself in the city.  He has come to visit Lydia Palmer, the wife of the local vicar, who is active in the witching community.

Strephon gave the vicar’s wife a précis of his investigation into Melchior Aeserman.  It irked him to realize how much of that investigation had been spent pursuing matters irrelevant to the matter.  No wonder Devon was always so cross with him.

Lydia listened intently, and sipped her tea without interrupting.  When he finished, she said, “This girl, Strephon.  How do you feel about her?”

Strephon flushed.  He hadn’t meant to mention Cassandra at all.  And yet somehow she kept coming into his narrative.  What was happening to him?  He used to be better at dissembling than this.  “Miss True is not my main concern.”

“I see,” the vicar’s wife said with a sage nod which somehow suggested a total lack of belief.

“My problem is Melchior and what to do about him,” Strephon insisted, perhaps a bit too forcefully to be persuasive.  “Miss True is in no way connected with the matter.”

“Oh, everything is connected. It’s an essential principle of the Craft.  But setting aside the girl for the moment…” Lydia put down her teacup with a business-like air and folded her hands; “…I’m not sure how I can help you.   Cynthia Belltree is our representative on the Council, but she’s a career politician.  Her motto is: Don’t Make Waves.  I doubt she’ll make a stand about this Melchior fellow.  And as for computer games, that’s really more of Albert’s line.  Not that he’s ever played Virtual Hot Tub to my knowledge, but I’m sure he’s heard of it.”

“I thought you might help me with this.”  Strephon leaned forward and with his finger drew a small quadrilateral on the coffee table.  A small focusing ritual.  As he leaned back an illusion appeared above the space of a silver collar.  “The wolves who attacked Miss True and I last week wore these.  They are marks of the Reaver clan, I’m told.  The collars are inlaid with faerie runes.”

Lydia cautiously reached out to touch the collar.  Strephon gave the illusion enough substance for her to handle it and observe it more closely. “Is it silver?”  Strephon nodded.  “It can’t be very comfortable, not for a werewolf, certainly.”

“It’s a machismo thing, I imagine.  Although I fancy it’s also their leader’s way of reminding his pack who is in charge.  From what I’ve seen of Mr. Lukas Bianca, he does not seem to strike me as a terribly subtle person.”

“And you think this Melchior had a hand in this?”

“I don’t know.  His administrative assistant denies it; and although the collars possess faerie magic, I do not believe they are fae workmanship.  But the coincidence is suggestive; and as you observed, everything is connected.”

The vicar’s wife pursed her lips for a moment.  “I hate to say it… but this might be Belladona’s work.  She made jewelry, and of the witches I know, she was the one most knowledgeable about faerie lore.”

Strephon scowled.  “I was afraid of that.”  If he had thought to speak with Morrigan a week ago, he might have gotten some answers.  Or perhaps the results would have been the same.  In any case, it was too late now; Morrigan was out of his reach, spirited away to who knows where.

“You might try asking around at the artisan’s market in Wildmere forest.  It’s held every other Saturday.  Belle used to sell her things there.  Maybe someone there knows something about it.”

Strephon nodded.  “It’s certainly worth looking into.”

“Another possibility.  If you want to know more about werewolves, you might try Pastor Shepherd…”

NEXT:  The Wolf in the Fold

Dark Redemption chapter 52: Tea at the Vicarage

Beneath the gleaming skyscrapers and picturesque facade of the City of Redemption lies another city; a community of dark and ancient magic populated by creatures of the night. Dark Redemption is a shared-world novel based on an online role-playing game by James Crowther.

Strephon Mackenzie, a semi-immortal half-fae has been tasked by the Faerie Queen with the mission of investigating a renegade faerie lord named Melchior who has established himself in the city.

When Strephon attended church, which he admitted, was more out of a sense of nostalgia and a fondness for the Anglican hymnody that any piety, he went to St. Onesimus, a small neighborhood parish not far from his home.  The grand Cathedral of the Holdy Redemption, built on the medieval shrine from which the city took its name, was a bit too “High Church” for his tastes.  He preferred St. Onesimus, where he and Phyllis had been married and to which they had walked on pleasant Sunday mornings in his more ambulatory days.

Devon would not have approved of him visiting the church, which is why Strephon didn’t tell him.  The fae have a long-standing antipathy towards churches, largely stemming from the ancient war waged between the Children of Oberon and the Inheritors of St. Augustine.  To Strephon this was ancient history, but the immortal fae have long memories about these things.  Perhaps this was the reason why holy things dispelled faerie glamours, and were an anathema to the Fair Folk in general.  Strephon didn’t know; no one had ever told him why, just that it was the way things were.  He did not share this vulnerability to Sanctity, partially because of his half-human heritage, and partially, he surmised, because his mortal father had him christened, and the rite had conveyed a sort of immunization against it.

But the real reason Strephon didn’t want to tell his cousin was that if he did, he would have to admit that he wasn’t going to visit the Vicar, but rather the Vicar’s wife, Lydia; and he’d had quite his fill of Devon’s remarks about his social life.

In addition to being the vicar’s wife, Lydia Palmer was a member of  the International Sisterhood of Independent Sorceresses; a group founded by the Wobblies back in the 1930s in an attempt to organize the witches of England.  How she managed to reconcile this affiliation with her position as a clergyman’s wife, Strephon often wondered; but never felt impudent enough to ask.  He suspected that she found it expedient not to tell her husband about these things.

The International Sisterhood was never quite the political force its founders envisioned; witches tend to be independent-minded and treated the organization more as a social group.  Phyllis had been a member back when the two of them had been more active in the magical community; sort of an “honorary witch” deemed magical by marriage.  But that was long, long ago.  When Second-Wave Feminism hit the organization in the early ‘70s, it briefly took on a more activist role and successfully lobbied to have witches added to the Council.  About that time Strephon re-established his connection with the group in order to oppose a development plan to build a shopping center in Stillwell Forest, one of the large areas of parkland in the city.  He had met Lydia then and the two had remained cordial acquaintances.

“Mister Strephon, so good to see you!” the vicar greeted him.  “Lydia told me you would be dropping by.  May I help you in?”

“Yes, thank you.”  Strephon preferred to manage his wheelchair by himself when at all possible, but Albert was a good soul and allowing him to do this small charity was a charity in itself.  And the vicarage, like many old houses, were beastly difficult for wheelchairs.

“I wished to speak with your wife about donating some flowers to the Altar Guild.  It’s my mother’s birthday, you see.”  Actually, he wasn’t sure faeries even had birthdays; being immortal, they certainly didn’t celebrate them; but it seemed a harmless enough taradiddle.

“I don’t think we’ve seen you at service in a while.”  The vicar tried to make the remark sound casual, but as he was also trying to manhandle Strephon’s chair over the front steps of the vicarage, he couldn’t avoid a grunt in the middle of it.

Strephon expected the comment; it was, after all, part of the man’s job.  And he was certain that the vicar expected his reply:  “I’m afraid not, vicar.  I do find it difficult to get out and about these days.”

“Do you have a computer?  I’ve been putting my sermons and our Bible study outlines on our website.  I’m trying to convince the Parish Board to let me do live streaming of our services.”

Strephon tried not to shudder.  Did everything have to involve computers these days?  Still, he should have expected this too.  Albert always was a tech enthusiast.  When they had first met, it was cassette tapes, and then videos.

Fortunately, at this point Lydia rescued him.  “Albert, are you going on about your computers again?  I thought you were working on your hymn schedule.”

The vicar gave a guilty acknowledgement and excused himself.

“Albert hates selecting hymns and tends to put if off ‘til the last moment.  It drives our organist mad!” the vicar’s wife explained

“I imagine.”

“So he’s taken to doing it all at once, once a year, to get it all over and done with.”

Strephon agreed that this was quite sensible.

When her husband had left the room, Lydia quietly shut the door and turned to Strephon.  “Now then, why are you really here?”

NEXT:  Everything is Connected.

Dark Redemption chapter 51: Accepting Rides From Strangers

Beneath the gleaming skyscrapers and picturesque facade of the City of Redemption lies another city; a community of dark and ancient magic populated by creatures of the night. Dark Redemption is a shared-world novel based on an online role-playing game by James Crowther.

Strephon MacKenzie, a semi-immortal half-fae, has become involved with a mortal reporter, Cassandra True; a relationship which has suffered some strain because of his attempts to hide his non-human heritige from her and to shield her from supernatural menaces. When he drops by to visit her, he finds her in the company of a strange man, Saul Taylor, who is a co-worker of hers and also a sorcerer. Taylor offers to drive Strephon home.

Cassandra's friend Taylor was courteous; infuriatingly so. He made a great show of pushing Strephon's chair out to his car, despite Strephon's protest that he was perfectly capable of pushing himself. When they arrived at the car, Taylor actually picked Strephon up to help him into the back seat, to Strephon's supreme annoyance. Strephon kept his temper, however, and held his tongue until Taylor got behind the wheel.

"So, have you told her what you are?" Strephon asked.

Taylor glanced up at Strephon through the rear view mirror. "Have you told her what you are?"

Under other circumstances, Strephon might have acknowledged the touché. Instead, he pressed on. "What precisely is your game, Taylor?"

Taylor chuckled. "Are you asking my intentions towards Miss True?"

"If you like."

Taylor seemed amused. "What business it is of yours?"

"Miss True happens to be a friend of mine," Strephon answered, doing his best to keep his tone cool and level.

"Yes, and a fine job you've been doing of protecting her so far."

"What do you mean?"

"By my count, in the fortnight you've known her, you've put her life in danger no fewer than three times." Taylor ticked them off on his fingers. "There was the werewolf attack outside the restaurant the night you met. Then there was the murder attempt at that party of Aesermann's you took her to. And, of course, we mustn't forget Morrigan kidnapping her specifically to get at you."

"Those were not my fault. And I saved her in those instances."

"As I understand it, in the last case she actually saved herself. The fact remains that she wouldn't have been in danger to begin with if not for you."

Strephon was silent. The blackguard had a point. That very fact had been bothering him. After a while he said, "What is your interest in Cassandra?"

Taylor shrugged. "She's an attractive girl. Perhaps I just enjoy her company."

"You're a sorcerer, and your employer Simon Knox is also a sorcerer. Am I to believe that your interest in... in my friend is just a coincidence?"

"You can believe what you like. Maybe Knox asked me to keep an eye on her as a favor to his pal, Melchior Aesermann. Maybe my editor asked me to show a rookie reporter the ropes." Taylor paused a moment and glanced in the mirror at Strephon again. "Maybe I thought she'd be fun snogging."

He's trying to provoke me, Strephon thought to himself. He clenched his kneecaps tightly. "If you lay one finger on Miss True..."

"You'll what? Horsewhip me? Thrash me within an inch of my life? Write a scathing letter to the Times?"

Strephon fumed in silence.

"You may not have noticed, Strephon old fellow, but your Miss True is not exactly happy with you. She's quite fed up with the lies and evasions and the patronising attitude. You had your chance with her, and frankly, you blew it."

The car turned the corner onto Fitch Street. "I believe that's your house up ahead. Would you like help with your wheelchair?"

"No, thank you. I'll manage."

Strephon watched as Taylor drove away, cursing his own impotence. Now the villain would go back to Cassandra's flat and who knew what he would do.

* * * * *

He needn’t have worried.  Cassandra was so annoyed with both men when Taylor returned she told him she had a headache and that she’d talk to him later.

NEXT:   Tea at the Vicarage

Dark Redemption chapter 50: I'm Sorry To Interrupt, He Lied

Beneath the gleaming skyscrapers and picturesque facade of the City of Redemption lies another city; a community of dark and ancient magic populated by creatures of the night. Dark Redemption is a shared-world novel based on an online role-playing game by James Crowther.

Strephon MacKenzie, a semi-immortal half-fae, has become involved with a mortal reporter, Cassandra True; a relationship which has suffered some strain because of his attempts to hide his non-human heritage from her and to shield her from supernatural menaces. His secretiveness has led her to enlist the aid of Saul Taylor, a handsome co-worker, to investigate Strephon's background. Which is why, when Strephon comes to Cassandra's flat, he finds the two of them together

The knot of embarrassment in Strephon's belly, which he had manfully trying to ignore on the trip up to Cassandra's flat, abruptly jerked up and tightened around his throat.

Strephon had found his lunch with Melchior quite distasteful and wanted to cleanse his palate, so to speak, with more pleasant company over dinner. On an impulse, he had called her flat and left the message with her roommate, but Cassandra obviously didn't get it. And now he found this.

Perhaps he's her brother, he thought desperately. No, Cassandra would not be acting this guiltily over a brother.

The handsome stranger came up to the door behind Cassandra. "You must be Strephon." The stranger placed his hands on her shoulders.

Strephon's embarrassment turned to ire. The unmitigated cad! How dare he take that liberty! Strephon immediately cursed his Victorian sensibilities. Then he realized his Victorian sensibilities had it right: the stranger was clearly making a proprietary claim on Cassandra; saying, in effect, she is mine now, not yours.

Cassandra seemed to sense this, too. She squirmed out from under the stranger's hand and turned to face them both. "Yes. Strephon, this is Saul Taylor. He works with me at the Morning Star. We were just... uh..." she gave a guilty glance back at the remains of an intimate, if greasy, dinner.

"Working on a story over dinner," the Taylor offered, extending his hand to Strephon. "Pleased to meet you, Strephon."

"I will thank you to call me Mister MacKenzie, if you please," was what Strephon wanted say. Instead he gravely took Taylor's hand. "At your service, Mister Taylor."

As soon as Taylor's hand grasped his, Strephon felt a jolt, almost like an electric shock.

Magic.

The man was a sorcerer. What in the name of Heaven was a sorcerer doing in Cassandra's flat eating third rate East Indian fast food?

"Nice grip you have," Taylor said with a forced smile.

"Ah. One of the small advantages of being wheelchair-bound. One tends to develop one's upper body strength." Strephon released Taylor's hand. A petty display, but it gave him some minor satisfaction.

The three stared uncomfortably at each other for a moment. Then Strephon said, "I'm terribly sorry for intruding. I should be going."

"Do you have a cab waiting?" Cassandra asked.

"No." Curse her. Now he would have to wait while she called a cab. He did not want to linger. Unfortunately, he had sent Tobias away. He assumed that Cassandra might need time to dress or decide where to go or what-not and didn't want to put her under the pressure of a waiting cab. Now he was stranded in a highly delicate situation.

"I'll give Streph a ride home," Taylor volunteered.

Strephon scowled at that but quickly comported himself. "You mustn't put yourself out."

"No problem," Taylor assured him. "I'd be happy to."

Yes, Strephon thought, you'd be more than happy to get me out of the way.

NEXT:  Accepting Rides From Strangers