Dark Redemption chapter 70: There Is Yet Hope

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 charged by the Faerie Queen with investigating fae activity in the city. He has discovered seemingly unrelated occurrences of faerie magic touching other spheres of the city's supernatural community and suspects they may be connected.

“You sure you don't want me to wait for you?” Tobias offered his arm to help Strephon into his wheelchair.

“That will not be necessary. I mustn't keep you from your other fares.”

“It's not a nice neighborhood.”

Strephon glanced around at the shabby buildings and littered sidewalks around him. He could hardly disagree. A couple of unshaven wretches in cast-off clothing slouched in front of the storefront mission he intended to visit, staring at him with stony faces. “I shall be careful,” he said.

“Gran won't forgive me if anything happens to you.”

“If anything happens to me, your Grandmother will doubtless say it was my own fault. So I will take pains to see that nothing happens. I will call you in half an hour to let you know if I need to be picked up.”

“You have a cell phone?”

“Of course,” Strephon lied. He really should get one of those things, he thought. He'd never really needed one before. He paid Tobias the fare and wheeled himself to the door of the mission. Tobias followed him to the door to open it for him. The big Jamaican glared at the two tramps, daring them to start something, but they withdrew a step and pretended to be interested in something else. The reek of cigarettes on their clothing assaulted Strephon's nose as he passed.

Passing through the door over the bump of the threshold, Strephon turned again to Tobias and said “Thank you,” in a firm tone that meant “That Will Be All.” Tobias grunted and said, “Half an hour.” Then he went back to his cab and left.

The interior of the mission was relatively clean, despite the obvious age of the linoleum on the floors and the chipping paint on the walls. A few more men were sitting around in battered furniture with threadbare upholstery; a couple watching a football match on an elderly television set, a couple playing ping pong while a third watched; yet another pouring over a slim volume of C.S. Lewis. On one wall, someone had painted a large cross and the words “THERE IS YET HOPE”, and the tables were decorated with ash trays, empty paper coffee cups and with religious tracts. One which caught Strephon's eye had an amateurish illustration of Christ as the Good Shepherd accompanied by a large, wolfish-looking dog and bore the title “Gospel of the Edenic Wolf.”

An earnest young woman in thick glasses and a doggy-smelling pullover came and greeted Strephon. “How can we help you?”

Strephon produced a calling card from his jacket pocket. “My name is Strephon MacKenzie; I am a friend of the Reverend Palmer of St. Onesimus. I realize this is probably an inconvenient time and I apologize for not calling in advance, but I would like to speak with Reverend Shepherd, if he can spare a moment or two.” He gave her a winsome smile.

The woman puzzled over the card and sniffed. “I'll see if Abel can see you,” she said, and disappeared into a back room.

A moment later, a broad-shouldered man with a ruddy unkempt beard and a clerical dog-collar came out from the back. Upon seeing Strephon, he cocked his head back slightly and his nostrils flared a bit; Strephon recognized it as the body language of a wolf encountering an unfamiliar smell. “Mister MacKenzie, I believe I've heard of you. It is a pleasure to meet you.” He shook Strephon's hand with a firm but not aggressive grip.

“It is good of you to see me. I imagine this must be a busy time for you, day before Sunday and all...”

“Not at all, not at all. Could I get you something? Some coffee? Or would you prefer tea?”

“Tea would be splendid.”

Reverend Shepherd sent the woman to bring a couple cups of tea. Then in a lower voice he added, “Did you wish to speak in private?”

“If it would not be inconvenient.”

They performed the usual dance with the Reverend offering to push Strephon's chair and Strephon thanking him but insisting quite firmly that he could manage by himself if the Reverend would be kind enough to lead the way. Shepherd led him into a small office, and once the woman brought in the tea, he closed the door.

“I was speaking the other day to Lydia Palmer, the vicars wife, and she was telling me a bit about your mission,” Strephon began. “It sounds like a worthy cause and was considering making a donation.” He took a sip of tea and watched to see how the Reverend would react.

Shepherd smiled and nodded his head. “Splendid. We're always pleased to accept charitable offerings. But that's not why you're really here, is it?”

“Well... if it comes to that, I was curious about a few things and hoped perhaps you could help me.” Strephon took a deep breath. “A week or so ago, a lady of my acquaintance and I were attacked by werewolves upon leaving a restaurant.” There. That got things out into the open. No need to maintain the fiction that these were only wild dogs. Strephon watched the reverend closely to gauge his reaction. “We were unharmed, but in defending ourselves, I was obliged to kill one.”

The reverend's face clouded. “I heard about that.”

“I thought you might. The slain wolf was wearing a silver collar enchanted with fae magic.”

“And what makes you think I have anything to do with them?”

“I believe, if I may put the matter delicately, that you have certain connections within the lupine community. Am I correct?”

“You touch upon a sensitive matter,” Shepherd said in a low, deep growl. “My church does not have the Seal of the Confession, but we have our own ethical codes of confidentiality.” He set down his teacup and began to pace behind his desk with a kind of controlled agitation that made Strephon think of a caged beast. It also reminded him that the door to the office was closed and that he was caged in the room with him. This was precisely the situation, he realized, that Tobias had tried to warn him against. Strephon wished there were a way to surreptitiously retrieve his crutches from the back of his chair without making it obvious he was drawing a weapon.

Shepherd turned again to face him. “I suppose you know my story.”

“Only a bit of gossip,” Strephon admitted. He now regretted that he had mentioned Lydia's name. He hoped he hadn't gotten her into trouble as well.

“Well then.” Shepherd returned to his seat and folded his hands. “I suppose that is where we ought to start.”

Born-Again Werewolves

The leader of an online writer's workshop I sometimes participate in likes to speak of "guns on the wall"  These are things a writer establishes early in the story which will become relevant much later.  The name come from Russian playwright Anton Chekhov's famous dictum that if you establish that there's a gun on the mantelpiece in Act One, the gun has to go off before the end of Act Two.

As I plod on with my Dark Redemption serial and have been trying to pull my plot threads together towards a resolution, I realize that some of the guns I've placed on the walls of my story aren't likely to go off any time soon and I am going to have to regretfully set them aside.  That's a drawback with writing things as I go along and posting my chapters warm from the keyboard; it doesn't give me much room to revise things if I change my mind later on.  

Due to a change in my work schedule, I haven't had much time to update Dark Redemption, so this week I thought I'd post a piece I wrote some time ago for another blogsite, describing one of these abandoned guns:  a character I mentioned several chapters back, who I don't think I'll be able to fit into the story.  But he's interesting, and I may find a home for him eventually.

Please allow me to introduce the Born Again Werewolves.

* * * * *

You meet him in a bus terminal -- a small man in a shabby coat with an unkempt beard and a strangely intense gleam in his eyes. He wears the clerical dog collar suggesting that he is clergyman; an impression confirmed by the religious tract he presses into your hand. It has a conventional illustration of Jesus as the Good Shepherd leading a flock of sheep and carrying a lamb over his shoulders; but this picture has Jesus accompanied by a large dog with a great lupine grin. "Tell me, brother," the man says; "have you heard the word of the Edenic Wolf?"

Some years ago, when my wife Lute and I were enrolled in the VH School of Magic, an online community for Harry Potter fans, we were invited by Jex, one of the site moderators, to join an online RPG he was running. The game was an urban Gothic fantasy, similar to the World-O-Darkness games from White Wolf, (Vampire the Masquerade, Werewolf the Apocalypse, Mummy the Unraveling, etc.). He ran the game as a group of interconnected online journals that in effect created a shared world novel set in a British city called Redemption inhabited by urban werewolves and club-hopping vampires.

Jex encouraged us all to help develop the City of Redemption by inventing bits of background and things. Lute took the inspiration for her character, a corporate werewolf, from Wolf Lake, a TV series she enjoyed, and defined the three main werewolf packs in the city and their Alphas. I established the two big newspapers in town, a largely Jamaican neighborhood, and a snooty ladies arts organization. While kicking around some background ideas, I came up with the notion of Born Again Werewolves. Jex liked the idea and told me to run with it.

As it happened, I never did get around to introducing the Born Again Werewolves into the game, but I worked up a backstory for them that I rather liked.

* * * *

Pastor Abel Shepherd was new to Redemption, or he would never have taken out that youth group camping in Reaver Pack territory, and he certainly wouldn’t have done it on the night of a full moon. As it was, everyone told him he was lucky. He managed to get all his charges to safety when the wolves attacked and the doctors assured him that the bites he received while fighting them off would heal.

But while he was in the hospital, a stranger came to visit. He introduced himself as Del Reeves, the Alpha Wolf of the Reaver pack. "The one who bit you."

"I know you have no reason to thank me," Reeves said, "But the fact is you’re different now. You’re not one of them anymore; you’re one of us. it’ll be a hard adjustment to make, but you don’t have to go it alone. I’d like to invite you to join my pack."

It took a while for Shepherd to accept that he was now a werewolf. Despite Reeves’ warnings, he was determined to fight it on his own. Confiding in a close friend, Lukas, he arranged to have himself locked up in a secure room during the next full moon. Through prayer and meditation, he hoped to be able to control the transformation..

It didn’t’ work. As Reeves had warned him, the harder he tried to suppress the wolf within him, the more violently it raged to get out. He devoured the packages of ground beef he brought with him and still hungered for more. He threw himself against the door of his room until his paws were bloody. He howled, he raged, he cursed God. He tore apart the Bible he’d brought to be his companion and pissed on the pages. Still the hunger ate at his vitals. At last in exhaustion, he could rage no more. He curled into a ball on the floor and wept.

It was then, in the depths of his despair, that his glance fell on a verse from the shredded scriptures: "And God made the beast of the earth after his kind and cattle after their kind and every thing that creepeth upon the earth after his kind. And God saw that it was good." And in a strange moment of clarity it occurred to him: There were wolves too in Eden.

He began gathering the pages of his Bible, clumsily with his paws, and assembling the implications of his new insights

Just as Adam was created without sin, he reasoned, so were the first wolves innocent and sinless. Therefore, a werewolf is not damned because he is a wolf; he is damned for the same reason that a man is damned: because he is a fallen wolf. And as a sinful human can with God’s grace strive to be a more godly man, so can a werewolf strive to live as a godly wolf. Besides Reeve’s choice of a hopeless struggle against the wolf within him and surrender, he saw a third option: To accept himself as a wolf and seek a righteous path

By the time the full moon was over, Shepherd had worked out the rough outline of a theology and a moral code combining natural law with lupine psychology. It needed some refinement -- his experiment with vegetarianism proved impractical. And his suggestion of replacing the bread of the Lord’s Supper with actual meat -- (cooked, granted, but still...) -- proved too novel for his congregation.

Word of his new eccentricities reached his superiors, who quietly removed him from his position. Also, Lukas proved to be a disappointment. Lukas had asked Shepherd to make him a werewolf too. He agreed, thinking it would be good to have a partner in his new ministry. But Lukas became more interested in pursuing power as a werewolf than trying to find a spiritual path of lycanthropy. He left Shepherd and joined the Reaver pack, quickly rising to become the pack’s Beta. Shepherd was saddened, but not too surprised when within few years, Del Reeves met with a tragic accident involving a missing larynx and Lukas took over the pack.

By this time Shepherd had come to realize that God had a different plan for him; he had a new mission, ministering to the Lone Wolves and the Omegas, the outcasts of the city’s werewolf community. Over time, he has built a small, loosely-knit pack of his own. The other wolves in the city regard him has a flake; but they tolerate him because his soup kitchen wolf pack does not seem to be a threat to anyone’s power. No doubt many of his pack are just strays looking for a meal, but some of them seem to be sincere adherents to his new lupine religion.

He denies being an Alpha Wolf. "Christ is our Alpha," he says; "and our Omega; for surely he has made himself the least of the pack in order to save us all."

Dark Redemption chapter 54: Wolf in the Fold

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.

“Pastor Shepherd?”  Strephon tried to place the name. “I don’t believe I know him.”

“He used to be pastor of St. Matthias, the Methodist church over on Eighth Street,” the vicar’s wife replied.  “He was involved in a wolf attack several years ago.”

“Ah yes.”  Now Strephon remembered reading about it..  The man had the misfortune to lead his church’s youth group on a camping trip on a weekend when the moon was full, and was attacked by wolves.  At great personal risk, he held off the pack with an aluminum tent pole so that his charges could get to the safety of the church’s van. The youths escaped unharmed, but Pastor Shepherd was badly mauled.  “What happened to him, anyway?”

“He was laid up in hospital for a couple weeks.  Arthur visited him once.  He said he had changed; that he was graver, more introspective than before.  Of course, considering how close he came to death, that is hardly surprising.”

“And he had become a werewolf?”

Lydia did not answer directly.  “The trouble did not begin until after he was released and went back to his congregation.  He spent a couple weeks in seclusion, and then suddenly came out all bursting with enthusiasm, as energetic as ever.  But Arthur said there was something not quite natural about his new lease on life; something not canny.  His theology began to show hints of disturbing heresies – even for a Methodist.  That is what Arthur said, mind you.”

“Of course.”

“I think it was when he tried to replace the bread of the Holy Eucharist with actual meat – cooked meat, of course, but still – that his parishioners complained to their bishop.  The church had him quietly removed from the congregation.”

“And where did they place this renegade Methodist?”

“Oh, he’s still in town.  He started his own mission on Foxglove Avenue; sort of a combination soup kitchen and flophouse with worship services twice a week.  I’ve heard it said that he particularly ministers to the lone wolves, itinerants without a pack of their own.  I did NOT hear that from Arthur.”

“I imagine not.”  Strephon thoughtfully munched on a biscuit.  “I have been out of touch far too long.  I should be more aware of what is going on in my own city.  You’re right.  I might do well to look up this Reverend Shepherd.”

“I’ll get the address of his mission for you,” Lydia said gathering up the tea dishes.  As she did so, her husband came out of his study.

“Ah, leaving so soon, Strephon?  Pity we couldn’t chat a bit more.  Say, would you like me to offer a prayer this Sunday for your Mother?”

“My Mother?”  The question came as a shock.

“For her birthday.”

He had forgotten that taradiddle.  “Oh no.  That won’t be necessary,” he said a bit too quickly.  Holy symbols, he knew, were anathema to the Fair Folk; he wasn’t sure if a clergyman’s blessing was something his Mother would appreciate.  The troubled and puzzled look the Vicar gave him made Strephon feel guilty, so he added, “But my cousin Devon has been going through a particularly stressful time lately.  I’m sure he would appreciate your concern.”

NEXT:  Soap and Opera

Dark Redemption chapter 22: A Half-Hour With Miss Cooper

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 living among humans, is investigating faerie activity in the city. After being attacked by werewolves bearing fae enchantments, his search has led him to another expiate fae, Ferner Cooper, who has adopted the identity of a werewolf herself and formerly ran with the Reaver wolf pack.

“I said I like to help if I can,” Strephon repeated calmly

Ferner looked at him squarely trying to see if his offer was real of not when she realised what she was doing she scowled.

“I why should I trust you” Ferner finally asked

“You can’t” still said in the damn calm manner, she was so tempted to just throw him out of her flat but then what would her neighbours say. Sighing she ran a hand though her damp hair knowing that she wouldn't be able to rid of him that easily.

“Fine you have half an hour to explain why you want my help then you will phone a taxi and leave if I decide to help I get back to you clear?”

She almost smiled at the look on his face when he realised she knew he hadn't phone a taxi.

“Well then if I only have half an hour I best get started, mustn’t I?” Strephon said calmly.

"As for why I need your help," he continued, "It's a bit complicated. As I mentioned, a lady acquaintance of mine and I were attacked two nights ago by Reavers. An unpleasant occurrence, but these things happen, I'm told, in the Big City. Now, I hope I can be forgiven for taking an attack on myself personally, but there were one or two other curious things about this particular attack I found noteworthy.

"To begin with, the attack took place in Little Kingston. I'm sure you're aware that neighborhood lies under the protection of Grandma Simms, as I believe it was back in your time as well. She keeps her neighborhood protected with spells to ward off werewolves, vampires and other creatures of the night. Terribly unfair, I know, to lump wolves and vampires together, but as both prey on mortals, I'm afraid she makes little distinction between the two."

"The fae prey on mortals too," Ferner replied. "What does she think about you?"

"Oh, we have an understanding. We trade biscuit recipes and so she grants me special dispensation. But the curious thing is, how did the Reavers come to be in Grandma Simms' territory in the first place?"

"What about the other curious thing?"

"That is more complicated. The attack took place within a few hours of my visit with Melchior Aesermann. Are you familiar with the man?"

"Should I?" She frowned. "The name sounds vaguely familiar. Melchior?"

"Yes. Lord Melchior. He too is a fae slumming among the mortals like we are. As you well know, if a Lord of the Fae spends much time away from the Court, it can only mean he is plotting something behind the Queen's back."

"I don't like politics," Ferner growled. "That's why I left."

"I heartily agree with you. Would that I could avoid courtly entanglements myself. Unfortunately, a Royal Command is a Royal Command, and she is my favorite aunt. Anyway. The Queen requested that I look in on Lord Melchior and see what he was up to. It seems he is manufacturing computer games utilizing fae magics in order to corrupt the souls of mortals. Not that morals need much corrupting, but he wished to corrupt them in such a way as to benefit him. You know how things are."

Ferner wrinkled her nose at him. "The clock is ticking. Get to the point."

"Well. Lord Melchior is also building alliances here in Redemption. He does business with at least one of the more powerful vampires of the city and I have reason to believe he has connections with the Reavers as well The Reavers have been utilizing fae magic. So you see how the timing of my attack is suggestive."

"You think that Melchior ordered the attack?"

"As I said, the timing is suggestive. So I am looking for information. I would appreciate any help you could give me."

Ferner thought for a long time, watching him warily. "Listen," she finally said. "I don't know this Melchior guy. I've never met him before, I've never heard of him before. I don't think he ordered your attack, though. Blanka has been giving his pack magic charms; collars and bracelets with silver runes. They allow his pack to pass through magical protections."

"Must be handy for a wolf," Strephon commented.

"If they don't mind bonds of slavery," she snarled. "And the burning touch of silver. I heard that a few of the pack ventured into Little Kingston and were driven off by an old man in a wheelchair who killed one of them. Sheila, her name was."

"A friend of yours?"

"No." Ferner's expression seemed to say but she could have been... "There was talk of hunting down the man in the wheelchair and teaching him a lesson, but apparently Blanka forbade it."

"Hm..." Strephon said stroking his chin. "Then perhaps I owe Blanka my thanks. Well, that certainly argues that my attack was not orchestrated."

"You sound disappointed."

"Oh, I'm not. Any information I can get at this point is helpful. But there is still one important piece of information you can still give me."

"What's that?"

"What do you want?"

"Me?"

Strephon placed his fingertips together and leaned forward. "I said I would help you if I could. A gentleman keeps his word. You answered my questions, so I am prepared to keep my side of the bargain. What is it you are seeking in Redemption and how may I help you find it?"

“What am I seeking in Redemption” Ferner repeated almost like in a trance then shook her head. “Why do you even care in wanting to help me? And don’t say it’s because of your word; because gentleman or not, you’re still Fae; and no Fae I know has every keep their word” she tried so hard to keep the hope out of her voice hope that maybe this person could help her find Luna.

Strephon understood what she meant. One of the few things that could bind a fae was a promise, but because of that weakness the fae had practiced for centuries finding loopholes and tricks so that a faeries word almost always meant something different from what one thought it meant. “Well, as I said at the beginning of our talk, I am something of an exile myself, and Fae or not I always keep my word.” Strephon said quietly.

Ferner sighed and walked over to her fridge, carefully thinking everything over before she made a decision. She pulled out a bottle of red wine. Would you like some?” she offered showing the bottle of wine to Strephon “or would you rather have something else?”

“If you don’t mind a cup of tea sounds lovely right about now”

“If I had minded I wouldn’t have asked but tea it is”

Ferner went and put the kettle on, taking out some of the tea to make a fresh pot. Then she poured a cup for Strephon and a glass of wine for herself.

“Very well. I will tell you. But I swear: you use this against me and, favourite of the queen or not, you will pay.” Ferner growled, and a feral gleam came into her eyes. She stapled her fingers together and took a deep breath to prepare herself.

“About ten years ago Luna, my life Partner of ten years, disappeared. It was this very flat that we stayed in. I went to work one night and when I got home she was gone. She took no cloths, no money, nothing. I thought that she was maybe out; after all it was the day after the full moon; but I was wrong. She never came back. Didn't phone or anything.

"So I did the only thing I knew. I went to the different packs in the city. They knew me, and we had ran together on many occasions, but they hadn’t seen Luna. I tried the Fae in the city even going as far as the council” Ferner snarled this part in hate a disgust. “But they were more concerned about helping themselves than anyone else. And so I left Redemption travelling across the world trying to find if anyone had heard of her. As you can see, Strephon, I had no luck.

"I returned here to find that not only has many of my friends been killed but that the whole structure of the city has changed.” Taking a sip of her wine she studied his face trying to see for any reaction to her tale. “So you see if doesn’t matter what I want for I will never be able to get it”

Standing up gracefully, she added, “I will bid you a good day sir. As I said early the phone is over there” pointing to the phone Ferner made her way to the baloney wiping away a single silver tear that was rolling its way down her cheek.

Strephon watched sadly as Ferner turned her back on him. Poor creature. She truly was like him in many ways; she belonged to neither one world nor the other, and straddled them uncomfortable and alone.

He called for his cab. Then he picked up the biro by the phone and in a neat hand wrote down the address of a convenience store on Fitch Street and it's phone number. He thought for a moment and added, Tell her Strephon sent you. Perhaps Grandma Simms could not help her; the trail of her friend was so cold; but he could think of no other aid he could offer; nor even that she might accept.

"I apologize for the intrusion. Thank you very much for your time." Strephon made his excuses and wheeled himself to the door to wait by the curb.

NEXT:  Just Trying to Help

Dark Redemption chapter 21: A Foot in the Door

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 living among humans, has been commissioned by the Faerie Queen to investigate fae activity in the city. He has learned of one such person, a fae named Ferner who has ties to the werewolf community.

The peculiar dream with the featherbunnies still lingered in Strephon's mind the next day when the cab he was riding in pulled up in front of Ferner Cooper's flat. "Here you are," the driver said.

Strephon paid the fare and hefted himself out of the back seat with his canes. "Ah, my chair, if you please?" The cabbie grunted and reluctantly ambled to the trunk and unpacked the wheelchair. Usually Tobias drove the cab which picked Strephon up; Tobias knew him and could anticipate his needs. Strephon realized how much he had come to depend on the cheerful Jamaican. Unfortunately, Tobias had his own life and other fares to carry. Strephon made a guilty note to himself to tip him a little more next time he saw him.

The hospital had been less than helpful. Yes, Ferner Cooper did work there. No, she usually worked the evening shift and besides today was her day off. No, they're sorry but they don't give out that kind of personal information. Well, if she is a relative of yours... Strephon had to exert a considerable amount of his faerie charm to persuade the receptionist to divulge Ferner's address.

A young woman answered the door. "What is it?" she asked. She wore a tattoo -- not a glamour, but actual ink on flesh -- of a wolf. She must disguise it with a glamour when she went to work; hospitals tended to frown upon that kind of body art, it might upset the patients. Her aura glowed like moonlight and her suspicious glare had a feral gleam to it. She really had gone native, Strephon mused; she seemed as much wolf as she was fae. Could she be the source of the Reavers' magic?

"Good day, Miss Cooper. I apologize for intruding. My name is Strephon and I heard there was one of my kin come to town. Since I see too few faces from the Unseen Court in this realm, I thought I would call and pay my respects."

"I have nothing to do with the Court," Ferner said harshly.

"Ah. Well, as you can see I am something of an exile myself. May I come in?"

"No."

"I... see. Well then, may I use your telephone? My cab has already left and I shall have to call for another."

Ferner narrowed her gaze. Strephon smiled pleasantly in return.

"What does a fae need a phone for?"

"I am half mortal, as you can no doubt see. This infirmity of mine," he indicated his chair, "is no disguise. Are you really going to leave a poor crippled man alone to his own devices?" A pretty blatant play for sympathy, and she knew it; but she snorted and allowed him to come into her flat.

"So why are you really here?" Ferner asked.

"Why to get to know you better, of course."

"I said really."

Strephon paused, considering for a moment, while maintaining his smile. "As I said, to get to know you. To ascertain where you fit in the scheme of things. You run with the wolves, do you not?"

Ferner frowned, and pointed to the telephone. "The phone is there."

Strephon went over to the phone and made a pretense of calling a cab, but he kept his hand on the switch, closing the connection. He hung up the receiver. "The cab should be here shortly." He looked around the flat. He saw little sign of fae magic here, and no sign of any silver collars or bracelets such as the Reavers wore. "A pleasant place you have. Quite cozy." He placed his finger together and tapped them.

"What do you have to do with the wolf packs?" Ferner asked.

"Oh, not very much. Except that a few of them attacked me and a lady friend of my accquaintance the other night." He tilted his head shrewdly. "You wouldn't know anything about that, would you?"

"Are you accusing me of attacking you?"

Strephon sighed. "Frankly, I'd be surprised if you did. Generally I'm not that lucky. However, it did occur to me that, having connections in the lycanthropic community, you may have heard something about the incident."

"I don't have that many connections. I used to run with the Reavers, but that was a long time ago; back when Kel Reeves led the pack." Strephon sensed bitterness in her tone. She obviously held no love for Blanka, the Reavers' current leader.

"What brought you back?" Strephon said quietly.

"Why should you care?"

Something about her answer struck a chord in Strephon. She needed something. He doubted that he could turn his back on her once the full moon rose, but his instincts told him that she was allied with neither Blanka nor Melchior. He made his decision.

"I'd like to help you if I can."

NEXT:  A Half-Hour With Miss Cooper

Dark Redemption chapter 17: Questions in a Cubicle

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.

While attending a party thrown by Melchior Aesermann, reporter Cassandra True and one of Melchior's game designers were trapped inside a virtual reality game and attacked. Cassandra's date, Strephon MacKenzie, was able to rescue her. Now detective Isaak Masey, another of Melchior's guests, has taken charge of the incident.

Once he had summoned the paramedics, Detective Masey turned his attention to Strephon. "What exactly were you doing here?"

Strephon had pulled himself back into his wheelchair. "I noted that Miss True was missing and I became worried. I went looking for her and found her here."

"And how did you come to be on the floor?"

"It's rather difficult to administer first aid from a seated position."

Melchior came into the room. "What's going on?"

"Look after Miss True, would you? The paramedics are on their way." Masey resumed his questioning. "You weren't exactly candid with me yesterday."

Strephon waited until Cassandra was out of earshot. "Well, I had to be discreet, didn’t I? Miss True is not aware of the existence of werewolves. Besides, for all I know the ones who attacked me could be members of your pack."

"My pack?"

"You are a pack leader, are you not?"

Masey reddened. "Actually, Lucinda is the leader of the pack and she had nothing to do with your attack."

Strephon blinked. "That woman? The one you were with? My word." He had never heard of a female werewolf pack leader. Then again, ever since Margaret Thatcher, he supposed it was only a matter of time.

Masey's jaw also sagged. "My God, Lucinda. I forgot all about her! I didn't tell her where I was going!" He started to dash out the door, but met Melchior coming back.

"I think Ms True is feeling well enough to make a statement," Melchior said ushering her into the room. Masey stifled a curse, but pulled out his notebook again.

"Byron wanted to show me this game he designed," Cassandra said in a distant voice, as though she was remembering something vague and foggy. "We were fighting monsters and it was like we were actually in the game. Then one of the game monsters killed Byron and I couldn't get out."

Melchior removed the disc from the console. "Nowyr 2 Run, Nowyr 2 Hyd. Reckless fool. We decided not to develop any combat games for our virtual reality platform for just this reason; they become too intense. We have safety protocols to prevent this sort of things from happening. Ms True here could have been seriously hurt!"

"And Mister Sanders was," Masey added.

Just then the paramedics arrived. Strephon had to assure them repeatedly that he was not one of the injured people. They carefully placed Byron on a gurney and wheeled him out to the waiting amubulence.

As they left, Cassandra frowned as if trying to remember something.

* * * * *

From his office window, Melchior watched his guests leave the building. "That was a very imprudent thing you did," he said coolly. "It could have jeopardized our whole product launch. We do not need bad publicity."

Lilith slid up behind him. "Sanders was proving unstable. He was about to talk to that reporter."

"Keeping Sanders under control was your job. Fortunately, I believe I have minimized the damage. I was able to edit Ms True's memories to place the blame on our irresponsible young programmer. We should be able to cover the matter up." Without looking at Lilith, he narrowed his eyes. "You weren't feeling a bit jealous of Ms True, were you?"

"Jealous? I?" Lilith smiled "I thought you wanted me to cultivate Mister MacKenzie."

"I want Mister MacKenzie watched. I want him influenced. I want him finessed. He could be very dangerous to us, or he could be very useful, but he will require subtlety."

A petulant frown crossed Lilith's face. "You intend to use that girl as a lever against him, don't you!"

It was Melchior's turn to smile.

NEXT:  Taxicab Digressions.

Dark Redemption chapter 11: What a Swell Party This Is

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 invited to a party being held by Melchior Aesermann, a fae noble posing as a human and owner of a technology firm. Strephon has asked reporter Cassandra True to be his date for the evening.

"You're sure I look all right?" Cassandra asked for the third time since she got into the cab. "You didn't say that this was going to be formal or anything."

Strephon sighed. He had dressed in formal dinner clothing because that was What One Wore to Dinner. He was too unfamiliar with 21st Century fashions to wear anything else. The dress she was wearing looked adequate, as far as he could tell, and she had applied the artifices that mortal women use to approximate faerie glamours well enough. "You look very beautiful," he lied. She was by no means plain, but compared to the women of the Unseen Realms, no mortal woman could rank higher than "nice". Having lived among mortals and indeed having loved one, Strephon knew that there were things more important than a staggeringly beautiful appearance; but he rightly judged that this was not a good time to explain this.

"I just don't want to look like a fool in front of Melchior Aeserman and his rich friends. This could be a big story for me!"

Strephon mumbled something vague in reply. He was still in a testy mood. Devon had appeared whilst he was dressing for dinner and requested a report on what he had learned. Strephon told him to soak his head. He also was having second thoughts about attending this party. Perhaps there was no connection between the werewolf attack last night and his visit with Melchior, but the appearance of a wolfen detective afterwards was too coincidental for Strephon's liking.

He regretted bringing Cassandra into this. Already she had nearly been killed and now he was bringing her into the intrigues of the Fae. She had no idea what kind of danger she faced. And for what? To serve as a shield from another fae's romantic overtures? Several times that day he considered calling her and cancelling their date, but he couldn't quite work up the nerve. He couldn't think of an adequate lie to protect her. And he did promise to give her the chance to interview Aesermann. Now he would have to try to learn more of Melchiors plans without revealing his own intentions and protect Cassandra all at the same time.

Tobais pulled up in front of Aesermann Technologies. "Here you are. Have fun, you two!" He unfolded the wheelchair and held it as Strephon hoisted himself out of the cab on his canes and slid into it. Strephon paid his fare and bade Tobias good night.

The night security guard glanced at the guest list as they entered the lobby and directed them to the lift. Strephon pressed the Up button. Before Cassandra could open her mouth, he said "You look fine. I'm sure you will be the most beautiful reporter there."

The affair, Strephon saw, was not a dinner so much as a cocktail party with a large buffet table. This was probably just as well, for there were many guests and a banquet would have been much less informal. Many of the guests were already here, and Strephon noted with some vexation how many of them seemed other than human.

"Look, that's Aoi Kurayami!" Cassandra said in hushed tones. She gestured towards a small, dark-haired woman wearing a leather coat and dark glasses with a distinct aura of the undead. She had the arm of a pretty young man in a white jacket. A gigolo, no doubt; and probably also a midnight snack. "She runs a big computer firm and owns a chain of cyber-cafes in town." No wonder Melchior invited her. Was she already an ally, or was Melchior trying to cultivate her?

"I think that's Malcolm Raven over by the buffet table. He's one of the most eligible bachelors in town. The woman with him is Anna Chelsea; she's a big marketing consultant." Strephon looked where Cassandra pointed. Perhaps bringing Cassandra wasn't such a mistake after all. She knew these people, by reputation at least. She did not know, however, that the handsome man piling slices of rare roast beef onto his plate and the woman accompanying him were werewolves. So was the man walking up to them.

"Planning on hogging the whole table?" the newcomer said with a deceptively light tone.

Raven flashed a toothy smile. "You're always free to scavenge my leavings, Blanka. It is your style after all."

"Omigosh," Cassandra whispered. "That's Lukas Bianka, head of the Redemption Decency League."

"Really," Strephon said. He wondered if Mister Bianka had ever played Virtual Hot Tub.

A large woman of a certain age and many chins towing a thin gentleman who would barely make a mouthful for either of the werewolves interposed herself between the two males. "Mister Bianka, it is soooo good to finally meet you. I'm Mrs. Trotter, of the Redemption Culture Claque. You might know my husband, Lemuel."

"L.G. Trotter," Cassandra explained, "he's president of the Fiduciary Trust Bank.

"Your organization has done such splendid work. We need more voices like yours speaking out against corruption and immorality in this city," Mrs. Trotter gushed.

"You are too kind," Bianka said with a brief bow.

Strephon turned his attention away from the buffet table. "Who is that?" he asked, indicating a thin, bald man with a prominent, beak-like nose.

"I don't know," Cassandra said.

Strephon narrowed his eyes. That man bore an aura of power and wisdom. He was neither wolf nor vampire; nor was he a fae. A human sorcerer? No, his aura was deeper than that. Strephon decided he would have to get to know that one.

He decided the same about another guest who seemed to have come stag to the party; a thin man in an ill-fitting tuxedo with glasses and a sadly blemished face. He was definitely a mortal. Magic of the fae tinged his aura, but Strephon guessed that he was merely one of Melchior's mortal employees.

Cassandra gasped. "Holy shit! Do you see him?" Strephon turned to this latest guest and almost gasped himself. "That's Simon Knox, publisher of the Morning Star!"

"Indeed," Strephon said. Knox was a broad-shouldered man with dark hair and a fine, pointed beard. A gorgeous blonde hung on his shoulder. Strephon frowned; he could not read the man's aura. He sensed that it was a powerful one, but he could divine nothing of its nature. Perhaps this one was a mortal sorcerer. That would be peculiar, since the Star regularly dismissed accounts of the supernatural. Then again, perhaps it was not peculiar at all.

The doors opened again and another pair of guests entered. One was another werewolf: a knockout blonde with long hair tied back in a braid and possessing a savage animal charisma. Strephon barely noticed her, focusing instead on her companion.

It was that damn detective!

What did this mean? Was the detective a minion of Melchior's? Did that mean that Melchior had sent the wolves to kill him?

Before Strephon had time to ponder these questions, Melchior himself entered the room, accompanied by his lovely and lethal administrative assistant. "Welcome, good friends," he said. "How good of you all to come!"

NEXT: Networking

Dark Redemption chapter 8: Bedside Manner

Detective Isaac Masey examined the body. He'd seen dead bodies before, of course; he'd been investigating wolf killings for weeks now. In fact, this one looked in better shape than many; a naked woman with multiple stab wounds, found in an alley dumpster. There was a difference this time, though. This one was a wolf.

He could smell it. Her body reeked of wolfitude -- if that was a word. Just like...

He forced his mind off that line of thinking and concentrated on the case. "No identification, obviously," he said to the constable who had found the body.

"None whatsoever," the constable replied. "Except that funny collar."

Masey leaned closer to examine it. "There are markings on it..." He started and jerked back, his nostrils flaring. Silver!

The constable seemed not to notice his reaction. "Yes, some sort of heathen scrawls. Could be one of them satanist cults. Lord knows there are enough of them in this town."

You have no idea, Masey thought to himself. He furrowed his brow. That collar reminded him of what Lucinda had told him about that rival wolf pack; the one that had abducted her. The one that dared to... Isaac involuntarily felt his hackles rise in anger and forced himself to calm down. Look at this objectively. This is just another case.

He couldn't. He kept coming back to the same nagging question.

Could Lucinda have done this?

He would have to ask her some questions.

* * * * *

Cassandra moaned as she came to consciousness. "What happened? Where am I?"

"You lie quiet!" a stern voice with a Jamaican accent commanded. "You be in no condition to be jumping around!"

The pain in Cassandra's head when she tried to sit up convinced her that the woman was correct. She lay back down on the pillow. She blinked. She was in a bedroom somewhere, with old-fashioned wallpaper and a musty antique smell to it. A small black woman with her hair in a turban and festooned with multiple rings and beaded necklaces stood over her and placed her hand on Cassandra's brow. Behind the woman, Cassandra could see Strephon watching with concern. "Where are the wolves?"

"The wolves are gone. Don't you worry about them," the black woman said sharply.

"You don't understand! I need to write down the story! Get it to my editor! This is important!"

"Quiet!" the woman gave Cassandra a gentle but stinging slap on the forehead with her fingers. "Only one thing is important! That you rest and get better!" She turned to Strephon. "And you, Mister Strephon! You should know better! Didn't Tobias tell you the Big Dogs were out?"

Strephon bowed his head contritely. "Yes he did. I was unforgivably reckless. I apologize."

"Hmmph. Apologize to her!"

Tobias had helped Strephon bring Cassandra to his house and carried her upstairs to his guest bedroom. Grandma Simms had arrived shortly afterwards, whether at her grandson's summons or her own intuition Strephon didn't know. Tobias had then gone to take care of the wolf Strephon had killed. Strephon preferred not to know how Tobias managed that, but trusted his expertise and Grandma Simms' influence to ensure that the body was disposed of discreetly and effectively.

Strephon sighed. He sincerely disliked skirting the law like this, but saw no palatable alternative. Living as an immortal in a mortal world posed several problems, the chief of which was remaining beneath the notice of civil authority. He might easily persuade the courts that he had killed the woman in self-defense, but that would lead to other questions; questions which he could not easily answer. "Oh, what a tangled web we weave."

"What are you talking about webs? I'm talking about the girl!" Grandma Simms snapped. She took him aside and said in a more confidential tone, "The breath of the Wolf is on her. I don't like the look of those scratches. She doesn't have the Curse, but the Taint has touched her."

"She won't become a wolf herself, will she?"

"Prob'ly not. But it's left a shadow on her soul. Maybe she shake it off. She's young. She's strong. But sometimes, the Shadow can grow... make her easy prey for the Dark Things." Grandma Simms shook one of her many-ringed fingers at Strephon sternly. "You watch over her, Mister Strephon; keep her safe!"

Strephon gulped solemnly. "I will."

Dark Redemption chapter 7: Who Let the Dogs Out?

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 half-fae dwelling among mortals, has made the acquaintance of Cassandra True, a reporter for the Daily Oracle. He has taken her to a nearby restaurant for dinner.

Dinner went surprisingly well. Strephon hadn't been out for a social evening in the company of a woman since his Phylis died decades -- no, nearly a century ago. He had forgotten how pleasant it could be. To his surprise he found himself inviting Cassandra over to his house and was pleased when she accepted.

"Are you sure it's safe to be out on the streets at night?" Cassandra asked looking down the street. A fog was beginning to rise up from the direction of the river.

"Certainly. This is actually not such a bad neighborhood." There were street gangs, to be sure, but they all knew he was under the protection of powerful friends and left him alone. Vampires and werewolves as a rule did not hunt in this neighborhood, because Grandma Simms had protected it with powerful charms.

Just to prove himself a liar, his skin began to crawl as he sensed magic, dark and primal, nearby. He saw a canine shadow loping through the fog, parallelling their path; then another. Werewolves? What the devil were they doing here? With a chill, he remembered Tobias' warning about the Big Dogs.

"Would you mind pushing me for a bit?" Strephon asked. Puzzled, Cassandra did as he asked. "I want you to remain very calm and keep moving," he said in a frighteningly conversational tone. "Whatever you do, do not run."

"What is it?" Cassandra eyed the shadows nervously. "Oh hell. Are those wolves? Those are wolves!"

Strephon reached behind him. He kept a pair of canes stowed in the back of his wheelchair, which he could use to hobble for short distances at need. He often used them for getting around in his house. They had other uses. He took one of the canes and gave its handle a half-twist and a six inch steel blade emerged from its tip. "Have you any items of self defense on your person?"

Cassandra tried to keep the fear out of her voice and speak as calmly as he was. "I have pepper spray in my purse."

"Now's the time to use it."

The wolves attacked; three of them, coming from three different directions. They were lean, scruffy beasts with glowing blue eyes. Strephon swung his sword cane at one, drawing blood and a startled yip from the leader. Obviously it thought a woman and a man in a wheelchair were easy prey. Another leaped onto Cassandra, knocking her down and biting the sleeve of her coat. That one got a face full of the pepper spray. It yelped and retreated to a safe distance. A third wolf lunged at Strephon, bowling his wheelchair over on its side. He whacked at the wolf viciously with his sword, keeping it at bay.

Suddenly, a bright light shone in Strephon's face and a loud automobile horn sounded. A taxicab came roaring through the fog, squealing to a halt right next to Strephon and sending the wolves running. Tobias leaped out of the cab, brandishing a tyre iron. "Here now! Shoo! Go home!" he shouted.

The wolves did not care for the change in the odds. They melted into the fog; all except one.

Tobias ran to Strephon's side. "Are you all right? Gran had a premonition you were in trouble. I came as quick as I could!"

"See to the girl." Strephon pulled himself by his hands over to where Cassandra lay. The sleeve of her coat had been torn off and four long scratches marred her arm. He felt her jaw for her pulse.

"It doesn't look like she was bit," Tobias said.

"No, but she took a bad crack on the back of her head. And she was badly scratched." Strephon looked up at him. "Bring her to my house. I'll look after her."

Tobias nodded. Then his eyes widened. "Look!"

A naked woman lay where one of the wolves was; the one Strephon had killed. Tobias kneeled over her and frowned. "What's this?" The woman wore a leather collar, inlaid with silvery runes. Her neck was red and angry where the silver had seared her flesh.

Strephon pulled himself over to examine the body. "Fae runes," he said. "That explains how they could pass your Grandmama's wards. But what kind of werewolf would voluntarily wear silver?"

"The Reavers," Tobias said. "What did I tell you? The Big Dogs are running out of their kennels."

Strephon frowned. He'd thought the war between the wolf packs would not involve him. Perhaps he was wrong.

NEXT:  Bedside Manner