Notes: Fireflies at Midnight is the third story in the series Crossed Lines, a fusion of White Collar with Supernatural. Although it can be read as a standalone, it will make more sense if read after Witches' Sabbath. In the first story, I introduced two evil sisters, named Electra and Maia, who've set their sights on Neal and Sam. In case you'd like to refresh your memory about them, I've written about them for the blog in a post called "The Twisted Sisters of Crossed Lines." You'll find details about the blog in my notes at the end of the chapter.
Chapter 1: Jump for Jenny
Motel Room, Springfield, Vermont. June 9, 2005. Thursday evening.
"Something's coming, Dean, and it's not the Easter Bunny."
Bobby Singer's gruff voice could make happy news sound like you should jump off a cliff, but the growl coming through the phone this evening was on steroids.
Dean Winchester had a long acquaintance with his doom-is-at-hand pronouncements. When he and his brother Sam were kids, Bobby helped out during the long periods their dad was off hunting. Last year after their dad passed, Bobby stepped up to the plate even more. He was a hunter with more experience than they'd ever have and more knowledge about demons than Sam could ever learn, no matter how many hours he pored over his laptop. Bobby knew when to give them a swift kick in the butt. He was always there for him and Sam, no matter how they messed up. And if he was nervous, they sure as hell better be too.
"Lay it on me, Bobby. What have you heard?"
"Vampires. They're on the move. You know we've been dealing with a major population surge over the past few months."
"Tell me about it." Dean flopped on the bed in the motel room. "It's like they're trying to outdo the Baby Boomer generation with their special breed of free vampire love. This town we're in? Sleepy little place, but one honking-big vamps nest. We were able to gank three of them but the rest scattered."
"Battle scars to show for it?"
"Nah, we're good. Sam seems to have finally shaken off that bug he was never admitting to."
"Glad to hear it. It ain't natural for Sam to be dragging that way. Made me think he'd come down with mono."
"The kissing disease? Sam?" Dean broke into a laugh. "Don't let him hear you say it. I'm having a hard enough time to get him to ask a girl out."
"He's still grieving over Jessica, even if he won't admit it. Give him time. When my wife died, I didn't think I was ever going to want to be with another woman. Sam will come around."
"Yeah, maybe. So, what did you hear?"
"A couple of hunters in Massachusetts stumbled on a vamp. He was a renegade—not feeling the love of his nest. They were able to pry something useful out of him before dispatching him to Purgatory. He claimed there's some big event coming—the anistemi he called it."
"Hold on a sec. Did you say Anastasia?"
"Anistemi. And before you ask, the hunters swear they got it right. They had the vamp spell it for them." Bobby did the same so Dean could write it down. "Vamps are gathering from all around for whatever it is. It's going down in your part of the country. They couldn't get the exact location out of him but the hunters feel sure it's in the Northeast."
Dean studied the word on the notepad, racking his brain. He came up with the big goose egg. "You got any idea of what we're dealing with? A vampire Woodstock?"
"I ain't got a clue, but I'm working on it. All I know is that it's happening soon—on the Summer Solstice."
"That's only twelve days away. We don't have much time to prepare for something we know nothing about. Are we talking Apocalypse big or new roadhouse diner big?"
"Stop asking me questions I can't answer. I'm guessing this ain't end-of-the world Armageddon, but with our luck you never know. I don't have a location for you either before you ask. But there's one other clue. The vamp didn't call it Summer Solstice. He said it'd happen at a Litha festival."
"Litha . . . Isn't that the Wiccan name for it?"
"You win the Kewpie doll. Your girlfriend Chloe—"
"She's not my girlfriend," Dean interrupted.
"Well, what do you call her?"
"Chloe works."
"And you give Sam grief for his dating habits? Someday you boys are gonna grow up, but I can tell it won't be any time soon. You told me Chloe is researching Wiccans for the new novel she's writing. She's in your area. She may have heard something. As long as I'm in South Dakota, it's hard for me to do much. If this turns out to be as major an event as what those hunters claim, I may have to pull up stakes."
WCWCWCWCWCWCWC
When Sam returned with their dinner, Dean was on the phone. He was sprawled on the bed, a besotted smile on his face. "I'm not sure if that's possible in a sleeping bag, but for the sake of your novel, I'm willing to try." When he saw Sam, he sat up and made a quick end to the call, even pretending it was for business.
"How's Chloe?" Sam asked, plopping into a chair with his burger.
Dean pulled out two beers from the cooler and tossed him one. "What makes you think it was Chloe?"
"I don't know of anyone else writing a novel that you'd be exchanging sleeping bag tips with. You two planning to camp out?"
"No, you and I are." Dean popped the cap off his beer.
"I thought we'd decided we were heading to Indiana to check out the demon report in Scottsburg."
"We can do that too." Dean told him about Bobby's call. "I asked Chloe—you see, it was business—and the only Litha festival she knows about in the Northeast is being held in a place called Jenny Jump State Forest. It's in western New Jersey. That Wiccan coven she belongs to has been talking about it for weeks. Supposedly it'll be the biggest pagan festival the East Coast has ever seen."
Sam pulled out his laptop. "What's the name of the event?"
"They're calling it The Fires of Litha."
"Found it." Sam scanned the webpage. "The festival's being held in conjunction with other events taking place in the local town, called Hope. There's a weeklong craft fair, farmers market. . . ."
"How many days will The Fires of Litha last?"
"Two. It starts on the twentieth and culminates with the bonfire on the twenty-first." He scrolled down to the bottom of the page. "It's geared for nature-lovers with several field trips and workshops. Oh, and there's a featured speaker—some scholar from England." Sam looked up. "It's hard to see why vamps would pick a Litha festival for this anistemi they're having. Is there any connection between Wiccans and vampires that Bobby knows of?"
"He hasn't found anything yet. He's checking with his contacts." A frown crossed Dean's face. "I don't like it. A lot of innocents traipsing around singing songs, dancing. It could be easy pickings for vamps." He reached into the bag for a second burger.
"Yeah, but it's hard to believe they're planning a slaughter. That's not their style. Vamps stay in small nests. They don't want to attract attention. Why would they want to assemble in a large group?"
"I don't know and that bugs me," Dean admitted. "The two events may be unconnected. The vamps could be taking advantage of a lot of folks being around to hold their own ritual."
Sam put aside his laptop and reached for his burger. "How do you want to handle it?"
"We'll go to Scottsburg tomorrow. We should be back in time for the start of the festival. Chloe says that most of the pagan crowd is camping out. She's not, of course."
"I don't blame her. Why would anyone who can stay at historic inns for a discount opt for a tent?"
"You gotta admire her style. Chloe's staying in that town you mentioned—Hope. She said Mozzie and his girlfriend Janet also plan to attend the festival."
Sam tossed the burger wrapper into the wastebasket. "Wasn't Chloe talking about going on a field trip with Janet?"
"This is the trip. Janet's scheduled to lead some nature walks. Who knows what Mozzie's planning to do."
"I'll check our credit card situation. We could probably use some new IDs. Mozzie said he was good for as many as we wanted."
Dean smiled. "This could be one job where we'll wind up money ahead."
French Café Gourmand, New York City. June 10, 2005. Friday lunch.
Wait for it. Wait for it . . .
Neal set down his fork and eyed the two men sitting across the table from him. Not that it was that unusual for Peter to invite him to lunch. It was a little unexpected that he also included tech expert Travis Miller, but Travis was a good friend to both of them. Peter volunteered with Travis at a telescope workshop for kids run by Columbia University. Neal's art authentication niche in the White Collar lab was next to Travis's workstation.
But the choice of restaurant was a giveaway. Peter liked delis. Travis was a vegetarian but preferred hearty, spicy food. So when Peter suggested the French Café Gourmand, Neal suspected an ulterior motive. His finely honed skills as a con artist weren't necessary to know he was being buttered up.
What he didn't understand was what scheme they were trying to pull.
But, hey, he was happy to let them run with it. He'd gladly play the role of mark while enjoying his salmon and goat cheese quiche.
The would-be con artists tipped their hand early into lunch. "Man, can you believe how hot it is outside," Peter said. "They could have used the pavement to fry the egg that's on top of my croissant."
"This is the kind of weather that makes you long to escape from the city for the countryside," Travis agreed. "It's perfect for camping."
Travis craving a rural retreat? Neal was careful not to display his amusement at the remark. Now if he'd said he longed to escape to Mars or Vulcan, Neal would have understood. Travis, an astronomy and science fiction enthusiast whose hero was Spock, would gladly blast off in a spaceship, but he'd never displayed any Daniel Boone tendencies.
"June 20 can't come soon enough," Peter said wistfully.
What was happening on that date? Peter hadn't mentioned anything, but he'd been busy on a mortgage fraud case recently. During such times Neal liked to keep a low profile. "Are you taking a trip?" he asked innocently. Nobody could play the naïve mark better than him.
"Travis and I both are. Three idyllic days in western New Jersey. Daniel Leavitt who oversees the telescope workshops arranged for a summer astronomy camp for the kids."
"We're partnering with a nature camp run by New Jersey Audubon in Jenny Jump State Forest," Travis explained. "The New Jersey astronomy clubs maintain an observatory there. The nature camp is Monday through Friday. For the first three days, our kids will join us for daytime workshops and nighttime observing. They'll stay at the nature camp and eat there. We'll only have them for a few hours each day."
"El's coming along to help with the kids." Peter scooped up the few remaining crumbs of his croissant on the plate. Neal saw his eyes stray longingly to the dessert card on the table. "She also plans to attend a craft fair being held nearby in the town of Hope."
"The town's almost like an art colony," Travis added enthusiastically. "I was told craftsmen from the entire region will be exhibiting." Neal hid his smile. Despite his partner Richard being an artist, Travis's appreciation of art was limited to sci-fi monsters and spacescapes.
"Didn't Mozzie mention this to you?" Peter asked. "He's also helping out at the camp. Janet's going with him."
"Janet, too? With so many adults there, will you have enough kids to go around?" Wait for it . . .
Peter shook his head firmly. "That's not the case at all. Janet will be dividing her time between our camp and a summer solstice festival which is also being held in the park. She's serving as leader for some of the field trips. You remember Chloe? She's attending the festival as well."
Now it made sense. Peter wanted Neal to protect him from Chloe. Even though she'd been behaving herself recently, Chloe had inadvertently caused an unfortunate outbreak of dorkyism. Peter had been one of the victims. "You two should have a great time. I know what you're trying to ask me, and I'm happy to manage the office in your absence. You'll need to inform Jones that I'm in charge, but I'm sure he'll bow to your discerning judgment." Neal flashed a smile at them, enjoying their looks of consternation.
Peter huffed. "Clearly that wasn't our intention." Then he played dirty. He gave him the full benefit of his soulful eye routine where he looked just like his Lab Satchmo. He knew Neal was a sucker for it.
"No?" Neal smacked his forehead. "Of course! Dog-sitting. No problem. June's pug Bugsy will be happy to have company."
Peter sighed. "We're taking Satchmo with us."
Travis looked at Peter. "You want me to be the one?"
"No, it was my idea. Neal, is there any way we could persuade you to help us with the camp?"
Neal feigned shock. "You must be joking. I'm no good with telescopes, and camps are most definitely not in my skill set."
"When Leavitt approached New Jersey Audubon about sharing their facilities, they agreed if we'd allow their kids to sign up for the sessions too. We now have over sixty kids registered." The overtone of panic in Travis's voice was a nice touch. "Our kids we can manage, but these newbies don't know anything about astronomy."
"That's what makes you ideal," Peter added. "At the telescope workshops the youngest age is nine. But the nature camp includes kids as young as seven. I don't relate to seven year olds."
"Neither do I," said Travis, looking more desperate by the moment. "We tried to talk Leavitt out of it, but he was getting pressured by the parents of some of our workshop kids. They want to send the younger siblings along."
"Leavitt, the traitor, agreed," Peter said gloomily. "Then he had the effrontery to call this morning to say he won't be able to lead the camp. His wife prematurely gave birth to twins. They already have a two year old at home. Even I have to give him a pass."
"But I can't take Leavitt's place," Neal protested.
"We understand that," Peter said hurriedly, "but Travis and I can manage the older kids if you and Mozzie take care of the younger ones."
"Jones signed up his nephew Ethan," Travis added. "You and Ethan are friends. Wouldn't you like to be there for his first camp experience?"
"I sympathize with your situation, honestly, but sacrifice three days of vacation for a forest? You can't be serious. Me in a tent? Get real, guys."
"You wouldn't sleep in a tent," Peter quickly assured him. "The state forest has an observatory on site."
"It's a magnificent facility," Travis added. "The main building has classrooms and a library. Upstairs there's a full kitchen, bathroom, and a bunk room which sleeps ten."
Neal turned to Peter. "Is that where you and El will be staying?"
Peter looked embarrassed as he admitted they weren't. "We're booked at a country inn in Hope. This is payback for El missing out on the trips to Buttonwood and Simsbury. I called this morning to see if there was any vacancy for you, but they're sold out. Between the craft fair and the festival, all the motels are full. I checked every place I could find for miles around."
"Where are Mozzie and Janet staying? In the bunk room?"
"Absolutely not," Travis said, looking horrified. "They'll stay in the office next door. They're bringing sleeping bags to use."
Neal grinned. "How's the soundproofing? Have you tested it?"
Travis looked nervous. "We could always move them downstairs. Janet's offered to cook. Did I mention the full kitchen and bathroom? Indoor plumbing? Hot and cold water?"
Travis and Peter continued to work on Neal on the walk back to the Bureau. Peter urged Neal to consider it an artist retreat. He'd have plenty of time to paint since his afternoons would be free. The idea had some appeal. Mozzie had his Thoreau moments of communing with nature. Neal had never spent much time painting outdoors. Travis, sensing an opening, extolled the beauty of the forest. It was painful to hear him struggle to dredge up art expressions. Had Richard taught him nothing?
Peter chimed in about the aesthetic delights of the location. Neal could be like Monet, setting up his easel and painting fields of flowers.
When they got off the elevator on their floor, all thoughts of astronomy camp were swept aside. White Collar had been invaded by none other than that notorious pirate Jack Sparrow. When Neal entered the bullpen, a blue foam sword danced in front of his eyes.
"Give me your treasure!" The pint-sized pirate demanded.
Agent Clinton Jones came charging down the stairs from the conference room. "Ethan, stop that! You were supposed to be eating your snack in the breakroom, not terrorizing the bullpen."
Neal waved him back. "Captain Jack and I go back a long ways." Turning to his arch-nemesis, he lowered his voice to a growl. "You'll have to fight me for my gold!"
"Sorry, Peter," Jones said, wiping the sweat off his forehead. "Ethan's school is off today and my sister had to work. I offered to take care of him. I didn't realize how much mischief a seven-year old could get into."
"You call this mischief?" Neal cast a pitying glance at him. "You have no idea." Neal and Ethan were old friends. Jones had brought him to one of Neal's fencing competitions at Columbia last fall because the little boy was entranced with swords. Afterward, Jones signed up Ethan for fencing lessons as a Christmas present.
"You have nothing to apologize for," Peter said, "and as second-in-command, if you feel the need to have a pirate in the bullpen, be my guest."
"I hope Hughes feels the same way." Jones glanced nervously at the agent-in-charge's office. Neal could see Hughes through the glass wall. He was working at his computer with his back to the high seas drama playing out in the bullpen. Too bad. Hughes could use with a little lighthearted relief. He'd been far too grouchy this morning.
Peter crouched down in front of Ethan. "Is this the sword Neal gave you at Columbia?"
Ethan nodded proudly. "It's my favorite."
"I had to buy three extras already," Jones added. "He's pretty hard on them."
"Can I take it to astro camp?" Ethan pleaded. The kid had great puppy-dog eyes. Better even than Peter's. How could Peter turn him down? But before Peter could answer, Ethan turned to Neal and wrapped himself around his leg. "You're going too, aren't you? Can we fence?"
"Sorry, Ethan, but Travis and Peter have so many other fun activities planned, there won't be time."
"On the contrary," Travis said. "The kids will need a break from learning about stars. I think it's an excellent idea to hold a mini-fencing camp while we're there." He turned to Peter and raised a brow in a dead ringer for Spock. "Don't you?"
"Jeez, I hadn't thought about it, but that could work out very well." He patted Ethan on the shoulder.
"Yay! Neal's coming too!" The mini-pirate began performing a victory dance.
Neal scanned the three of them. Jones, Travis, and Peter were all looking at him with identical smug expressions. Would they have stooped so low as to rope Ethan into their scheme? "Masterfully played. I can tell when I've been out-conned."
Neal grabbed Ethan by the shoulder as he started to dart away. "My sword's in the locker room. Let's fence there. We'll have more space, and the gore won't get on their files."
"Since when do you keep a sword in the locker room?" Peter demanded.
Neal blinked innocently. "Since there've been pirates, of course."
WCWCWCWCWCWCWC
When Peter saw Neal approach the door of his office, he saved the document he was working on and beckoned him in.
Neal stepped inside. "You asked me to stop by after our fencing bout. Is this a good time?"
"Sure. Take a seat. I assume our pirate is no longer marauding through the hallways?"
"He's escaped to Monkey Island."
Peter thought a moment. Was this the new term for the lab? Sometimes he'd called Neal White Collar's spider monkey. Had he renamed his art niche? Or did he have plans for the bullpen? "And that is . . .?"
"Video game about pirates that Jones brought along. 'Nuf said."
"Ah yes. We may need to borrow that for camp."
"Aren't there astronomy video games?"
"Travis is researching them. I freely admit I feel hopelessly out of my league. Our telescope workshops at Columbia only last an hour. Now we'll be responsible for morning and evening activities. Leavitt's wife having twins is suspiciously convenient."
Neal gave him a skeptical look. "That's right, Peter. Leavitt got his wife pregnant with the sole purpose of avoiding astro camp."
"It's a working theory." He cleared his throat. "But, joking aside, I don't want you to feel obligated to use part of your vacation for the mess I got myself in. I understand if you'd rather not."
Neal shrugged. "Since Paris morphed into a business trip, I saved a few days. Originally I planned to use them on a return trip to visit Fiona. That's a non-starter now, so I might as well help out."
Peter eyed him with sympathy. Neal's girlfriend had dumped him two weeks ago. He knew it still rankled.
"Father's Day is the day before camp starts, and I've been trying to think of a good idea," Neal added. "Last year we did dinner and a baseball game. If my surrogate dad who puts up with all the crazy stuff I fling at him throughout the year wants to spend a few days herding kids around, how can I refuse?"
Peter broke into a smile. Neal knew how to hit it out of the ballpark. "El will be thrilled. We'll drive there Sunday afternoon." This had the makings of the best Father's Day ever.
Elysian Bookstore, New Haven, Connecticut. June 17, 2005. Friday afternoon.
Maia opened the door to the Elysian Bookstore. Located only a few blocks from her classes at Yale, it was an easy walk. The shop had been transformed by her sister into the most elegant bookstore in Connecticut. Its selection of art books was the best in the country. Poetry readings, book signings, author soirées . . . Electra could be justifiably proud of her accomplishment.
Maia strolled through the aisles, looking for her sister. She found her in the occult section, talking with Wisteria Brigham. Wisteria was the head of New Haven's Wiccan coven, the Alyssum Sisterhood. A large flowery woman who enjoyed dressing in lavender, she'd become a devoted friend ever since Electra allowed the coven to use the reading room for their monthly meetings. Little did Wisteria suspect the service she was providing for Electra. As the number of Wiccans increased, so did Electra's power. How would Wisteria react if she knew her friend Electra was actually Astrena, Queen of the Stars?
Wisteria wrapped Electra in a hug. "We're overjoyed you've agreed to come to the Litha festival! When I heard New Jersey was chosen as the location, I was worried you wouldn't be able to make it."
Miss out on the opportunity to create a new generation of vampires? Maia chuckled to herself. If Wisteria only knew.
Electra gave her a warm smile. "I'm delighted we can lend our support. One of the antique stores has agreed to let us set up a display in their store. Unfortunately, we'll only be able to take along a small selection of books."
"Oh, but you must bring all your books on witchcraft! And your grimoires, of course. They're indispensable. With the craft fair going on, this will be our best chance to educate and illuminate. Our members will be making presentations on both days of the festival."
After Maia greeted Wisteria, she stood aside. She listened to her sister make all the correct responses, giving the impression that Wisteria was her nearest and dearest friend. Electra was masterful. She knew how to touch all the right strings and play her like a lyre. Maia wished she were equally as skilled.
"Can you believe our good fortune in having Gemma Blackthorne join us?" Wisteria gushed.
"Who's she?" Maia asked innocently, pretending not to know anything about their sister.
Wisteria's eyes widened. "Simply the world's most knowledgeable expert on everything Wicca! My dear, she travels the world, promoting Wicca and helping covens get established. I heard her in England—so inspiring! I was mesmerized. Literally mesmerized. She teaches botany at Lydford College." Wisteria heaved a deeply felt sigh. "She kindled a flame within me which still burns bright. This will be the most spectacular Litha North America has ever seen!"
Wisteria continued to rhapsodize about Gemma for several more minutes. Once she left, Electra invited Maia into her office. Her assistant Penelope could handle the customers.
Electra's office was more like the luxurious suite of a CEO of a major corporation than that of a bookstore owner. Private restroom, wet bar, leather wingback chairs. Her exquisite taste in art was reflected in the paintings she'd chosen for the walls.
Electra's cat Daphne jumped on Maia's lap as soon as she took a seat. The lilac-point Siamese purred loudly, placing her paws on Maia's shoulders. She'd been with Electra for two years now. She lived in the bookstore, and store customers were enchanted with her. She occasionally graced a lucky customer by sitting in their lap when they were sitting in one of the reading nooks.
Electra reached into the mini fridge of the bar for a bottle of blood discretely concealed within a Bordeaux bottle. She took two Waterford wine glasses from the shelf and poured them each a glass. "To the anistemi."
Maia clinked glasses with her. "After all these months, I can't believe we're so close. Will Gemma drive down with us?"
"No, she'll go directly to Hope from JFK airport. I'm looking forward to our reunion. We have much to learn from her success with the Wiccan groups in the U.K."
"Samhain at Dartmoor was over seven months ago. This year we should persuade her to join us in the States."
"Gemma hasn't experienced an American Halloween in over a century. Yes, I think it's time." She paused and looked at her sister. "Your smile betrays you. Have you been visiting Sam again?"
Maia shrugged an acknowledgment. She expected Electra to be upset, but when she wasn't, Maia couldn't resist sharing her news. "Sam's not far from the Litha festival. I may be able to meet him!"
Electra gazed at her with amusement. "And how did you discover that? It wouldn't have anything to do with the Greek horned orchids I found growing in our garden yesterday?"
"I may have made a locator potion," she admitted. "Last night he was in a small town in New Jersey called Newton. That's not far from the festival. I could run into him on the street or at the festival. Perhaps he'll visit our display."
Electra arched one of her elegantly shaped eyebrows. "You realize you're acting like a teenager with a crush?"
"I know! Why should they have all the fun? Visiting Sam in his dreams isn't enough. I crave physical contact."
"Will you be able to control your desire? Sam's a hunter. He'll be alert to any magic you try on him."
"Exactly. That element of danger is what adds to his appeal. When we visit artists in their dreams, feeding off their creativity may provide us with the power we need, but it's not much of a challenge. I want more from this relationship. Not just the intellectual pleasure, but the physical."
"I can sympathize," Electra admitted. "I've had similar thoughts about Neal. Once we start the feeding process, inevitably their bodies will weaken. Should we not delay it to take all the pleasure we can first? Their ultimate capitulation will be that much more satisfying. But I detect a flaw in your plan. Simply because your chosen one is in the vicinity doesn't mean he'll attend the festival."
"In this case it does. I have a secret weapon—Chloe Bishop."
Electra took a sip of blood as she thought a moment. "Isn't she the child I met last month at the Wiccan meeting?"
"That's right. She's a member of the Alyssum Sisterhood."
Daphne jumped onto Electra's lap and purred into her ear. "Of course! I remember her now. She's writes urban fantasies under the pen name of Cecilia Hepburn. I read one of her novels. She's a minor talent but could be worth cultivating. Do you intend to feed off her?"
"I'd considered it," Maia admitted, "but wasn't convinced she was worth the bother. I decided to learn more about her first. It was easy enough to become friends. We've shopped, done lunch." Maia paused to take a sip. The blood was an inferior vintage. Barely satisfying. She consoled herself that once the pure-bloods arrived, they would have no shortage of blood to choose from. "I overhead her on the phone and coaxed her into telling me she was seeing someone. Imagine my surprise when it turned out to be Sam's brother, Dean."
Electra chuckled. "How deliciously convenient for you."
"Chloe is attending the festival along with the rest of the sisterhood. I'm sure Dean will want to stay in the area so he can visit her. The brothers are so close, Sam is bound to come with him. I'll have no difficulty in persuading Chloe to introduce me." Maia stood up and refilled her sister's glass. "I was afraid you might be angry that I'd indulged."
"I can hardly be upset"—Electra dipped the tip of her index finger into the glass and licked the blood off it—"when I visited Neal in his dreams last night. He's acquainted with the Winchesters. Neal was captured with Sam by our vampires in Buttonwood. Last month Sam and Dean attempted to rescue Neal and his friend Peter in Connecticut. I wonder if there's any chance Neal will be at the festival as well. How inconvenient that we can't read their minds."
"Wasn't Gemma working on a potion?"
"Yes, but so far she's been unsuccessful. Until then we'll have to be content with projecting our dreams onto our chosen ones. That has served us well over the centuries." Electra set her glass down. From her expression, Maia could tell a lecture was coming. "You realize that no one must stand in the way of pure-bloods, not even your chosen one."
She nodded. "You have no need to be concerned. I intend to keep him far too busy to interfere."
Greenwood Observatory, Jenny Jump State Forest. June 19, 2005, Sunday afternoon.
"This is the place," Peter announced, pulling up to a large two-story steel building.
Neal stared with curiosity at the structure. They'd spent the past hour driving through the wooded, rolling landscape of western New Jersey. The terrain had become mountainous as they approached the park. So far he hadn't seen the small town where Peter and El would be staying, but he would tonight. El had made dinner reservations for them at the inn to celebrate Father's Day.
The only observatory Neal had seen was on top of Pupin Hall at Columbia University. "Where's the dome? Aren't observatories supposed to have domes for telescopes?"
"You see that row of side buildings? They're the storage sheds for the telescopes. The main building houses the classrooms, radio room, office, and sleeping facilities."
"Impressive. This is much more elaborate than I would have expected."
Peter nodded proudly. "It's jointly run by all the astronomy clubs in New Jersey as well as the local colleges. There's even a maintenance shop on the premises."
"There's Travis's car," El said, pointing out his silver Saturn Ion. "And that SUV must belong to Janet. She said she was renting one for the week." Travis arrived at the observatory on Friday evening and had already offered Neal the use of his car. Travis planned to spend every available moment using the telescopes and had no intention of driving anywhere.
On Saturday, Janet and Mozzie had stopped by June's on the way to the forest and picked up Neal's bag and painting supplies. Neal knew Peter's car would be loaded. On the drive up, he and Satchmo had shared the back seat with camp supplies and craft materials.
Travis came out to greet them and help carry in their gear. Afterward, he showed off the radio room to Neal. Although it had originally been designed as a ham-radio room, it was now primarily used for radio astronomy. Neal understood very little about radio astronomy but had picked up from Mozzie and Travis that it was the main tool used by SETI in its search for extraterrestrial life. When he heard about the observatory having a radio room, he wondered if Travis and Mozzie would spend all their free time looking for little green men, something he planned to tease them about at every opportunity.
While Travis helped Peter unpack the camp supplies, El gave Neal a tour of the upstairs. Satchmo channeled his inner bloodhound and tagged along with them, sniffing in every nook and cranny.
"I feel like I should have brought a duffed bag instead of a suitcase," Neal admitted. "Weren't you supposed to sew nametags on my clothes?"
"You're right! It's been so long I forgot. When was the last time you attended camp?"
"I never went. This is a new experience."
"You didn't go to camp?"
El looked so distressed, Neal hastened to assure her it wasn't a big deal. And it wasn't. He remembered other kids had talked about the camps they'd attended over the summer. He'd hung out at the pool hall and the YMCA, spending his summers mastering pool. When he returned to school, everyone assumed he meant swimming, and he'd practiced that as well, but billiards turned out to be an even more useful skill.
Neal reached down to stroke Satchmo. "It's your first time, too, isn't it? We'll be newbies together."
"Are you sure you don't mind taking care of Satchmo?" El asked. "We could keep him with us at night."
"Sorry, but I've already claimed him as my bunkmate. He's also the official camp mascot and watchdog. Peter spent half the drive here lecturing me on bear etiquette and how to avoid bear encounters. Satchmo will be my defender."
"I think Peter was laying it on a little thick."
"I'm not so sure about that. Did you check out the bear pamphlet they gave us at the park entrance? From the sound of it, Jenny Jump is the nexus of black bear activity for the entire region."
"What's this about bears?" Peter questioned, coming up the stairs with Travis. "Use your common sense and if that fails, run like hell. That's all you need to know."
"I've yet to see a bear," Travis noted, "and I've been here for three days."
"That means nothing," Neal scoffed. "When you weren't staring through a telescope, you had your eyes glued to a computer monitor. A bear could have come up behind you and you wouldn't have noticed."
"But we'll eat well before we die," Travis countered. "Janet has already stocked the kitchen with supplies from the local farmers' markets."
"Is that wise? Is she simply fattening us up to be a bear feast? You know how Janet loves wildlife. If she had to choose between us and a bear, you realize who she'd pick."
Peter stroked his chin. "Is that why she likes Mozzie? She thinks he's an endangered species?"
"Be nice, Peter!" El admonished. "You'd be sunk without his help at camp." She turned to Travis. "Where are Mozzie and Janet?"
"They should be back soon. He's showing her a cave he discovered. They've spent the past couple of days exploring the park. This morning while she was off looking for butterflies, Mozzie found a cave which has . . ." Travis paused dramatically, giving a knowing nod.
"Don't tell me," Neal said with a groan. "Cave slime?"
Travis grinned. "What else? I haven't seen it yet, but I'm sure I will."
"In that case, we better take off before they return," Peter said. "There will be no talk of slime—alien, cave, or otherwise—on Father's Day." He invited Travis to join them for dinner, but Travis wanted to spend the evening wrapped around the telescopes.
After they left, Neal checked out the kitchen and was pleased to see Mozzie had brought along an extensive collection of wine for the occasion. Sleeping in a bunk bed would be a new experience. He and Satchmo tested the mattresses and found them acceptable. He would have chosen an upper bunk, but Satchmo insisted on a lower.
Unpacking was trivial. Neal had brought along one suit to wear to Father's Day dinner but the rest of the time he'd be wearing jeans and t-shirts.
Painting in the open air, bears, cave slime . . . Camp was sounding better and better. That raised the question if camps were like cons. No matter how much planning you made, something unexpected would inevitably come along to turn it into even more of an adventure. He was about to find out.
Notes: Thanks for reading! Next week in Chapter 2: Ghost Stories, Neal will realize his suspicions are correct, and Peter's Father's Day party takes a turn in the wrong direction. This story has 6 chapters which I'll post weekly on Wednesday.
If you're wondering just who Electra and Maia are, you'll learn much more about them in this story. I've also updated my blog post, "The Twisted Sisters of Crossed Lines." The post reviews what we know about them so far.
Jenny Jump State Forest is an actual park in western New Jersey, and the observatory is also real, although I've taken liberty with some of the details. Neal's first Father's Day with Peter was described in Chapter 2 of Caffrey Disclosure.
Hooray for Penna Nomen climbing into Peter's Taurus with me for the road trip! She's my expert navigator and beta wizard for this road trip. Penna wrote an April Fools post for our blog this week. Will there be any pranks in this story? Oh, maybe just a couple.
In the pre-series Caffrey Conversation AU created by Penna Nomen, FBI Special Agent Peter Burke recruited con artist and expert forger Neal Caffrey in 2003 when he was 24. In exchange for a confession, he was given immunity for past crimes and started working for the FBI as a consultant at the White Collar task force in New York City. Sam and Dean Winchester are demon-hunting brothers. Sam is roughly the same age as Neal. Dean is four years older than Sam. Peter is thirteen years older than Neal. For those familiar with the Supernatural timeline, the action is set early in the second season of Supernatural.
Blog: Penna Nomen & Silbrith Conversation
Chapter Visuals and Music: The Fireflies at Midnight board on the Caffrey Conversation Pinterest website
Pins are updated with each new chapter. This week's pins include the cast and locations.
Links to both sites are in my profile.
Disclaimers: The worlds of White Collar and Supernatural are not mine, alas. Any depictions of real institutions and locations are not necessarily true or accurate.
