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
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