December 4, 2013

Resolutely barefoot, Gale Carey sat before the council. She hated umbral travel, but certain events (like a call from the InterTradition Council of Nine) called for such work. At least it was easier for her than for most of the other people in the room. For seven hours, she'd listened to reports from around the world, managers talking about the new teams of specialists who would be and had been put together, the rise of vampiric cults, the spread of some book that was shaking up several quiet academics (none of whom were actually present to talk about it), and the spread of the enigmatic Hunters.

Gale herself had talked about the sudden influx of shifters in Forest Park, the large green space in western Portland, and yesterday's sudden drying up of Crater Lake. The room buzzed with life at that. Nobody could figure out where the hell the water had gone.

As the day of speeches and over-sharing ended, Gale stood and stretched. She sent a quick text to Apple to say that she'd be returning to the city that night.

Things finished earlier than expected. I'll be home soon. Feel free to send your friends my way if they're interested.

Gale slipped through reality into the over-decorated living room of the house boat in which she lived. As always, she felt the rush of thankfulness for the ease with which she could step through the folds of reality. The others could end up nursing wounds for weeks. 2:17 AM. Could've been worse. Apple would definitely still be up, but Gale wouldn't have to worry about seeing the hunters until at least the next afternoon. Plenty of time to get some sleep.

A hand-calligraphed letter rested on the floor just inside her front door, sealed with a wax impression of the ring Joseph wore, a laurel crown with a droplet in the middle of it. He'd have to wait. She didn't have the mental wherewithal to deal with reclusive anachronisms. Vampires really did make for odd business partners.

The night was colder than she had expected given the morning before. From the back of her brown velour couch in her technicolor, hippie-chic living room, Gale grabbed a crocheted blanket and said a word of appreciation for her mother who'd made it. She wrapped it around her shoulders and stepped through the sliding glass doors onto the back porch that sat almost at water level.

Gale'd chosen to put the house at the end of the dock just so she'd have an interrupted view of the river. On the back porch, she curled up on the lounger she spent so many nights on. She'd probably fall asleep there again. The red star twinkled and shone in the distance. Celestial object 2001KX76 was beautiful, no matter what it meant.


December 5, 2013

The hunters were going to be earlier than she'd expected, given the text from Apple.

They're on their way. Good luck. Be gentle with them, please.

It wasn't as if the various mages in town had gotten together with a plan for what to do with the hunters, but Gale knew the little group had met at least Apple and that asshole traitor on the hill.

"You respect Apple," she reminded herself as she went through the motions of making tea. "Apple respects Craig." She put out chipped, hand-thrown mugs and one or two bought ones and poured hot water into the large, cherry red teapot. "Therefore, you ought to respect Craig." It was that last leap in logic that always seemed to get stuck. For the life of her, Gale couldn't figure out why Apple actually liked and trusted the man. Given half a chance, he'd probably try to kill them all for being reality deviants.

Tea ready, coffee ground, some kind of local, gluten-free coffee cake set out. Gale figured she was as ready as she was going to get for visitors. She headed upstairs to put on her 'costume' before they arrived.


Thunk! Thunk!

The rapping pulled Gale back down from the lofted upstairs about an hour later. Through the upper window, she'd spied a small knot of people waiting at her door. From the way Apple talked, she'd really only expected about two. Instead, she had a small army of hunters and hoped she'd make it out alive.

Why am I doing this again? she asked herself on the way down the stairs. Right. Networking, crazy wolves, new kids on the block, something like that.

Gale smoothed down the hippie ensemble she'd changes into: crepe skirt, hand-knit shawl, and big hoop earrings. She'd even pulled her hair down to enliven the look. People usually let their guard down when they just thought she was a bit nutty.

"Good afternoon," she said, slowly pulling the door open. On the other side was a teenager in a black hoodie, an old Asian woman with a narrowed expression, an old man who might've come along for the potential food (given the look on his face), and a young blonde woman who looked like an artist or art student, if Gale knew the type.

The young woman pushed to the front and put her hand out to Gale. "Nice to meet you. I'm Caitlyn Finnerty." Her hair was pulled back into a neat, smooth ponytail that hung past her shoulders and she wore paint-stained jeans and a button-down flannel shirt. Definitely an art student. She pumped Gale's hand firmly once or twice and let it fall. Gale wondered whether the woman was as assertive in other parts of her life.

Showtime.

"Come in. Apple said you'd be coming." Gale replied, working to bring her voice a little higher. She was going for something between floaty and ethereal.

The group filed in uncomfortably, and Gale offered coffee cake, tea, and coffee. ("What? No milk?" the old woman had asked. The old man has simply taken two of everything.)

Once everyone had introduced themselves and then availed themselves of food, she led Justin, Caitlyn, ChopChop, and Jeff through the beaded curtains into the small but open living room, scattered over with large pillows to sit on. She sat cross legged in front of the sliding doors that led out onto the porch and looked around at them.

The teenager squirmed and ate more coffee cake.

Still she waited. People opened up more when they'd been made uncomfortable, she'd found.

The old man farted.

"What have you come looking for?" she asked, fingering the beading on her shawl. "Apple was not clear."

The visitors looked from one to another awkwardly. The old woman drank her tea and looked at no one. Finally, Justin looked up. "We want to know about the other hunters. Madeline and Eric won't say anything about what happened in Eugene."

The old man nodded his head vigorously. "Goin' to get somebody killed, and I'm not going to let it be me," he insisted. "You don't get to keep intel to yourself if you want to run a good squad." He ate another bite of his coffee cake and snorted his derision at the other two hunters whom Gale had never heard of.

"Well, I'm afraid you'll have to be a bit more specific than that, Jeff." she started. "I don't know the people you're talking about."

"Apple said you could tell us about things that have happened before. Like you read tarot or something?" Caitlyn insisted. "She said you could give us information on what's happened. If you can't do it-" she started to get up.

Gale did everything she could to keep herself from laughing. The young woman was a tough nut. Good for her. "Oh, that I can do," she replied, sliding back into her divination voice, the one she used when she had actually done tarot in a bookstore in the past. "But first, you have to answer something for me."

"Something like what?" ChopChop asked, glaring across the top of the Powell's City of Books mug.

"Everything's a trade in this world," Gale insisted, "including my help. I want to know about you. What are you? Where do you come from? What can you do? How do you learn it?" Okay, the floaty voice might have slipped a bit there, but this was important stuff.

Caitlyn looked confused, but the old man barked out a laugh and said, "We're people. What're you?"

Gale raised her eyebrows in what she hoped would be read as disdain.

They glared at one another for a full thirty seconds before Justin piped up, "We don't know."

"But you must know something," Gale insisted. Every mage knew, somehow. They all had that story about the first time. Well, almost all of them did.

"You just see," ChopChop replied tightly. "Before it happens, you can't see. Then you can see. When you see, you know what you have to do." She patted her pocket menacingly. "You have to take care of whatever mess you find."

Justin looked somewhat shocked by the woman's words, which could only mean that the hunters were about as factioned as the mages. Good. That was good to know.

"What kind of seeing?" Gale asked, looking directly at Caitlyn.

The art student, however, just shrugged and pushed a few crumbs around on her plate. "Nothing special. Things are just a little more obvious, I guess."

"It's not like that, and you know it," Justin insisted.

Caitlyn shrugged again and put one of the bigger crumbs in her mouth.

Justin turned to Gale, "There's a lot out there. Heck, Felix says he was able to see after he met a werewolf. I met Apple. I think ChopChop saw some kind of ghost, right?" He turned to the woman who was glaring so hard she'd forgotten about her tea. "Anyway, it's just a thing that happens."

Gale nodded. She'd take it. That was enough for her. "Well, okay, then. Let's see about seeing what happened in Eugene, okay?"


December 9, 2013

The club had been decorated in dark, heavy wood and rich hunter green. It looked like a gentleman's study in an episode of some period drama. The dark stained maple bar curved along more of the wall than was strictly necessary and hosted by a very attractive 20-something who had likely just graduated from one of Portland's many bartending schools. He'd do until they could find someone a little more permanent. The young, pretty ones never stuck around very long. There was a lot more money to be made in California.

Sitting in Sorrow Verdes (how had she let him name their club that?), Gale reflected on the group she'd met that afternoon.

"So, they were interesting?" Joseph asked. He'd been in an awful huff when she'd shown up. He didn't like his letters being ignored. Damned whiney vampire.

She swirled the whiskey in the bottom of her tumbler for a few seconds, hoping it would bring clarity to her thoughts. "They were different."

"But you said Apple trusts them."

"Yeah. She does."

For whatever reason, that seemed to be enough for Joseph. What was it about Apple that inspired such incredible trust in those around her?

"Are you going to help them again?"

"Maybe. I don't really know whether they're going to need my help to be honest. From what I've heard, I should just be thankful that they didn't try to murder me on sight." Gale tossed back the end of the glass and rubbed her eyes. Life was getting complicated. She hated complications.

"What did they want from you?" Joseph asked of a small glass of whiskey and water he wouldn't drink for the whole night.

"They wanted to see the massacre in Eugene." She'd lied. Everyone knew about it.

"When Trajan had the Nos hack into hunter net?"

Gale nodded. Apple'd figured out the leak long ago, but apparently she hadn't felt much of a need to share with the hunters. "Yeah. Apple closed the hole they used, but it seems the hunters who survived didn't feel much like sharing what happened."

Joseph shrugged aristocratically. "Well, it was a messy night."

"True." Gale thought back to the hunters. She'd shown them the event. Everyone joined hands, and she'd taken them back there to see for themselves. As it turned out, hunters were about as squeamish about Time Peaking as anyone else not used to it. They'd bolted from the house as quickly as possible once they'd came back to themselves. Somewhere in the background of her thoughts, the evening's musicians started to warm up.

Joseph, whose chair had an actual view of the small stage in the club, smiled at the two instrumentalists. "I found them at Willamette University. The maribaist is taking her Ph.D. in music performance and the cellist is studying for her Master's."

The two women wore matching black skirts and button-down white shirts. One had nearly-blonde hair in a tight bun and pale brown eyes that took in a lot more than she could see. She gave Gale an uneasy feeling when their eyes met. Someone to watch out for perhaps.

"Listen, Joseph, I've got a lot to do. One of my friends up North wants some help with a project he's putting together." She stood, dropped a light, European kiss above his left shoulder, and walked out without paying. She didn't like the look of that musician.