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

Dark Redemption chapter 49: Comparing Notes

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.

Reporter Cassandra True has survived encounters with werewolves, vampires, ghosts and an insane witch, but the mystery that puzzles her most is Strephon MacKenzie, the reclusive invalid who unbeknownst to her is actually a semi-immortal half-fae. Cassandra has decided to do a little snooping and has enlisted her new co-worker Saul Taylor to help

Cassandra juggled her grocery bags as she attempted to fish her keys out of her purse. It took her longer than she had planned to stop at the store and get home after work. At least she made it before Saul showed up; he had promised to come over that evening.

Just as she put her key to the lock, the door of her flat swung open. "Hullo, Sandy!" Cecilie said in a bright, chipper voice.

"What are you doing up?" Cassandra grumbled. "I thought you called in sick this morning."

Cecilie shrugged. "Must have been a 12-hour bug. I feel fine now!" She was dressed for partying, with tight, embroidered jeans, her favorite black top and a bright red bandanna around her neck. She wore deep purple eye shadow and had apparently spent her sick day doing her nails with sparkley polish. "I'm just on my way out. Want to join me?"

Cassandra glared at her. "I have work to do."

"All work and no play..." Cecilie sang.

"...Means Cassandra pays your share of the rent again."

"Oh, that reminds me. I borrowed a couple quid from your dresser. Hope you don't mind. I'm famished." She breezed past Cassandra and flounced down the hall. "Oh," she added, "there was a phone call for you. I wrote it down. Ta!"

Cassandra lugged her bags into the flat and dumped them on the table. Sure enough, she saw the message: Cecilie had scrawled it on the refrigerator door.

"stFn cuMMing @ 7"

"That's really helpful!" Cassandra sulked. She dug a roll of paper towels out from under the sink and began scrubbing the refrigerator. She managed to remove about half of the cryptic scrawl when the security buzzer sounded.

"Hi. I hope you don't mind Indian food," Saul said as Cassandra let him into her flat.

Cassandra took the bags of takeout from his arms. "No, that's fine. I love curry." She cleared off the table and helped unparcel the cardboard cartons of Bangalore Burgers and Curry Chips.

"So," Cassandra said after a hastily scarfed meal, "What have you got for me?"

Saul solemnly opened his briefcase and pulled out a folder of papers. "I hope you appreciate this. I spent most the afternoon digging through the morgue for this. Okay, here's what we have. I traced the MacKenzie family back to 1852. The first Strephon MacKenzie was an orphan who was raised at St. Gwydion's Orphanage here in Redemption. He studied for the clergy for a few years, but switched to the law about the same time he married a local farmer's daughter named Phyllis Woodrow."

"Phylis?"

"Is that important?"

"Hm... maybe. Go on," Cassandra said.

"He became quite a successful barrister, quickly becoming a partner in his firm. Here's a picture of him." He handed Cassandra a photocopy of a newspaper clipping. The young man with side-whiskers in the photograph looked remarkably like the Strephon she knew.

"It says here that he sued Gilbert and Sullivan? Whatever for?"

"It doesn't say. The matter was settled out of court. Anyway, in time he became a QC, then a judge. That was when he built his mansion, MacKenzie house. It's still standing, it's one of the oldest buildings in the Little Kingston district."

"I know, I've been there. So what happened to him?"

"He retired from the bench at about the start of the First World War, but served in the government during the War in the Home Office. His wife did a lot of work locally for the Red Cross too. Then after the War he and his wife did a lot of travelling abroad, but after Phyllis died in 1931, Strephon became a virtual recluse."

"How did Phylis die?"

"Um... Heart attack. Why do you ask?"

Cassandra took a sip of diet cola. "Curious, that's all."

"All right, be mysterious then," Saul said with a half-serious scowl. "Strephon died four years later in 1935. His grandson, also named Strephon, arrived from Canada to take over the house."

"Wait a minute, his grandson? Old Man MacKenzie had a son then?"

Saul checked over his papers again. "Apparently. I couldn't find references to a child being born, but apparently he was raised abroad by relatives."

Cassandra frowned. "That doesn't make sense. I thought Strephon was an orphan."

Saul shrugged. "The only references I could find in the Star were vague about his background. He was partially crippled in his legs and pretty much stayed at home."

"Crippled? By polio?"

"How did you know?"

"Lucky guess."

"Anyway, apart from some charity work during the Blitz, the grandson stayed out of the public eye. In fact, the next reference I find is 1972 when a developer attempted to buy his house and much of the surrounding neighborhood to build a shopping mall. The deal fell through for unspecified reasons."

"Was that the current Strephon, or the grandson?"

Saul checked his clippings again. "I'm not sure. There were several MacKenzie's in the obituaries, but the only one that seemed related to this family was the old judge, the first Strephon."

Cassandra bit her lip in thought. "How can a family live for several generations in the same house without any record of births, deaths or marriages? I've checked the city records. I could find none. I even got a friend at Our Lady of Perpetual Mercy to check his hospital records. He has none! You're telling me that a man stricken with polio who's lived most of his life in a wheelchair has never seen a doctor?"

Saul gathered his papers together again and shut them in his briefcase. "I have a better question," he said. "Why are you so interested in this Strephon MacKenzie anyway?"

Cassandara's cheeks turned pink. "Um... interested? Well, it's just that... well, he's mysterious. He's always talking about himself and his family; he loves talking about all his aunts; but he never seems to actually say anything. And there are these little inconsistencies, like his late wife and his mystery illness. He's hiding something from me, I know it!"

Saul put his hand on hers and repeated. "Are you interested in him?"

For a moment, Cassandra almost said yes! Then sanity took over. "Of course not."

"Good!" Saul gave her hand a squeeze.

Just then a knock came at the door. "Who could that be? If Cecilie forgot her keys again..." Cassandra excused herself and went to open the door. She looked down and her jaw sagged.

Now Cecilie's message made sense: "stFn cuMMing @ 7" meant "Strephon coming at seven".

"Good evening," Strephon said uncertainly, noticing Saul in the room behind her. "Erm, am I interrupting something?"

NEXT:  I'm Sorry To Interrupt, He Lied

Dark Redemption chapter 48: Dangerous Dreams

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.

Reporter Cassandra True is beginning to discover some of the dark secrets of Redemption. She and her roommate Cecilie have encountered a ghost at the fashionable Club Cyba-Netsu, and have met the club's owner, a powerful vampire named Lady Kurayami. While Cassandra has escaped a terrifying ordeal in that clutches of a demeneted sorceress, Cecilie faces dangers of her own.

Cecilie turned over in bed and instantly regretted it. The harsh afternoon sun filtered through her amber windowshade in her room onto her face. She winced and covered her eyes. "Answer the damn phone, Sandy!" she shouted.

Cassandra didn't answer. That's right; she was still at work. Damn.

The phone kept ringing. Why didn't whoever it was just give up? Her bones ached; her head throbbed; she felt like death. She wanted to go back to sleep, but the damn damn phone wouldn't damn let her. Finally she pulled a blanket over her head and stumbled out of bed for the kitchen.

She was having such a pleasant dream too. Before the phone woke her, she was dreaming about the night before. She had gone back to the Club Cyba-Netsu. she had asked Cassandra to join her, but Sandy said she had an important interview with some old bag from the Redemption Culture Thingummy. Cecilie suspected that she was too scared to go. The encounter with the ghost the other night really squicked her. It sort of squicked Cecilie too, but she enjoyed a bit of excitement in life.

It was funny how the club had changed. Cecilie had been there several times, both alone and with friends, but since meeting the ghost everything seemed different; like there were all these dark and mysterious currents running just underneath the surface that she had never been aware of before. No, it wasn't the ghost, it was Kurayami. Meeting Miss Kurayami had opened her eyes and now Cecilie saw a whole new world; a world of the night.

Cecilie saw Miss Kurayami when she entered the Cyba-Netsu. She was drinking with a small knot of people, male and female, in a dark corner of the club. Some wore dark glasses; some seemed to be wearing blood-red contact lenses. All were devastatingly beautiful and possessed the same aura of mystery and cool. Kurayami motioned Cecilie over to their table.

She almost turned around and left right then and there. Something about Kurayami was so intimidating. She told herself she was being silly. After all, she wanted excitement, right?

Cecilie could not recall exactly how long she spent with Kurayami and her friends. Somehow, being accepted in this elite circle was intoxicating. Well, to be honest, the Sloe Screw Against the Wall she ordered probably had something to do with that too. She tried calling her hostess "Kurayami-san" the way the others did, except she got a bit befuddled and it came out "Kurayama-mama-sama". That triggered an unfortunate spasm of giggles, but Kurayami did not seem the least offended. She merely gave that serene smile, like a worldly Buddha.

"Were you hoping to meet any ghosts tonight?" Kurayami teased.

Cecile flushed. "I don't know. I guess I was looking for something dangerous."

The others chuckled and exchanged significant glances behind their dark glasses. One of them, a dark-haired male with a neatly-groomed soul patch, smiled and said, "Maybe you've found it." There was a challenge in his voice and that drew Cecilie's attention like a magnet.

"Oh really?" Cecile tried to keep her tone light. "Somehow I doubt Kurayami-san would permit anything really bad to happen to me."

"Of course not," Kurayami purred. "Nothing bad ever happens to any of my customers in my club. Unless of course they want it to."

For a moment Cecilie sobered. Something about that casual remark carried a distinct undertone of menace. Cecile became suddenly aware that she was alone in a group of strangers. But she became aware of something else, too. She did want it to happen to her, even though she was not sure what it was. Kurayami was not talking about sex or date rape or anything mundane like that; it was something else; and whatever it was, Cecilie wanted to experience it.

The guy with the soul patch--Phillipe, his name was--took her hand. "Come with me," he said. And she did. He led her to a dim, private corner in the back of the club and drew her body close to his. She felt his breath, cool against her neck; then his kiss. By the time it occurred to her she ought to be afraid, his teeth were already sinking into her welcoming flesh. By then it was too late.

She remembered little of the rest. They made love, of course; wild, savage, desperate love; but that came afterwards. What she remembered most was melting in his arms as he drew her soul into his.

The phone was still ringing. Cecilie groped her way to the telephone and picked up the receiver. "Unk? Hooizzit? ... Cassandra? She's not here. ... Huh?" She pulled the blanket from her face and brightened slightly. "Oh... Stephen. You're the wheelchair guy. ... Yeah, I'm sure you can come over. Lemme write a note for her."

Cecilie fumbled about the kitchen for a piece of paper and a pen. The best she could do was a grease pencil, so she scrawled a message with it on the refrigerator door. "Seven o'clock? Okay. I'll let her know."

She hung up the phone and stumbled back to bed. Sun would be setting soon; then it would be dark.

Then she could see Phillipe again.

NEXT:  Comparing Notes

Dark Redemption chapter 47: Business Luncheon

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 commissioned by the Queen of the Faerie to investigate fae activity in the city. To that end, he has cultivated the acquaintance of Melchior, a powerful faerie lord who has taken over a computer company.

"I recommend the Veal Frommage a la Asteroth," Melchior Aesermann said. "Not up to the standards of the Faerie Court, of course, but quite passable for mortal viands."

Strephon had never been to the Chez R'lyeth before. It was a trendy restaurant occupying the top floor of the Trinity Building in downtown Redemption. It served only the hautest of cuisine and offered a spectacular view of the downtown skyline and of the castle in the Old Town.

"I've become quite accustomed to mortal food," Strephon said after the waiter left with their order. "The problem with faerie food is that after a century you're hungry again." Melchior chuckled politely and Strephon then added, "May I ask why you invited me here?"

"Right to business, eh?"

"I gathered this was a business lunch."

Aesermann put his hands together and rested his elbows on the table. "Have you considered my offer?"

Actually, Strephon had nearly forgotten about it; the last few days had been so crammed with events and distractions. "Well," he said, "it is intriguing, but I'm a little bit vague on a few important points. Not to seem gauche, but what exactly are you offering me? What do I gain by joining with you?"

If he expected Melchior to be offended, he was disappointed. "You gain my patronage," he said. "That is no small matter."

"In the Faerie Court I'm sure it is not, but I make my home here in the Mortal Realm. I'm afraid I have little use for Fae politics."

"But my dear Strephon, I have influence in this world too and am gaining more. I understand you had some difficulty with a witch named Morrigan last night. I could have helped you with her. I would have been happy to take care of the matter."

Strephon colored. He should have known Melchior would hear about that sooner or later. "It was a personal matter," he said. "I preferred to deal with her myself. Perhaps I should say more importantly, what do you expect from me in return for your patronage? I know nothing of computers. I rarely even use the telephone. I have no experience in marketing or management. I can offer nothing to your company."

Melchior laughed. "I can hire technicians and programmers. But you have a unique position in this community which could prove useful to me. You are familiar, of course, with the Council?"

He did not have to specify. The Council was an group of werewolves, vampires and the occasional god or two, which informally governed the magical beings of the city. "I have had dealings with the Council, but not for many years."

"Lady Kurayami is on the Council and she has nominated me for membership." Melchior permitted himself a self-satisfied smirk.

"Congratulations," Strephon said.

"I have yet to be approved. As you no doubt know, there currently are no Fae sitting on the Council. Some of the members are outright hostile to us."

"Well, the Fae have traditionally held themselves above such petty mortal concerns as parliamentary procedure. I take it you do not."

Melchior's smile became more wolfish. "The Fae are going to become a presence in this city. It is only right that they be represented. And who better to represent them?"

Strephon nodded thoughtfully. "A reasonable ambition. And how does my unique position fit in with your goals?"

"I want you to accompany me to the next Council meeting. Speak a few words on my behalf."

"I have not had contact with the Council in decades! I hardly know who is on it anymore!"

"You met some of them at my party last week. And the Council knows you. You are respected as a long-time resident of the city and regarded as an honorable man. You carry more weight than perhaps you suspect."

Strephon pondered. Shallow flattery, of course, but how should he respond? The notion of nominating this cad for even a library card repelled him. On the other hand, Melchior was going to proceed with his plans with or without the Council's blessings; perhaps it would indeed be better to have him out in the open within the Council's sight rather than plotting in the darkness. And how better to gain Melchior's confidence enough to uncover those plots than to aid his social-climbing.

"Since you put it that way..." Strephon said, "...I accept."

Next:  Dangerous Dreams