Siren Song
Chapter 3: Summoning
"The time of the Gathering approaches. Oberon wants his children to return to Avalon." – The Banshee, from "The Hound of Ulster."
She had warned him this would happen.
It seemed such a long time ago now. The day had been so calm, so quiet. As a matter of fact, he had been starting to get bored, buried in the tedium the humans called "paperwork." For the most part, his time with Xanatos had proved to be anything but dull, but now that they had made this pact, the Puck was realizing that it wasn't going to be all fun and games. Ah well. He had designed his new persona to be extremely efficient after all, so he supposed he could accept the good with the bad…
He looked up, suddenly aware that he was not alone. He felt her presence even before she appeared. The energy of her magic crackled in the air, and a wind suddenly blew through his office, scattering the papers, although all the windows were shut tight. He made no move to pick them up as she materialized, in her mortal guise. Behind his mask, his eyes danced with barely contained amusement.
"I don't believe you have an appointment."
She laughed, and the sound of it pleased him more than he was willing to admit. In the past, she had always been so stubbornly determined not be amused by his 'antics,' as she had called them. It was ironic, he supposed, that she would find this stern façade of his humorous.
"I wasn't aware that I needed one, Mr. Burnett. Owen Burnett. That is what you're calling yourself these days, isn't it? Hardly a suitable alias for you, Puck. Not like Robin Goodfellow was."
"Oh, and Molly O'Riordan is such a perfect fit for you?"
And with that, they both reverted to their true forms. "At least I great creative when I take on a mortal form," Puck chided her. "Your guises always look the same."
The Banshee frowned, all traces of amusement gone. Typical. "You are impertinent," she said warningly, and this time it was his turn to laugh. How many times had she said that to him?
"Oh, and just what are you going to do about it, hmm?" He glided towards her, paused, and then flitted about the room, much as he had when Demona had summoned him. She sighed and rolled her eyes.
"Puck, when was the last time you took anything seriously?"
"When was the last time you ran a brush through that hair of yours, my dear little siren?"
He caught a smile tugging at the corners of her mouth for just an instant, before she remembered to scowl. "Don't call me that," she hissed. "I am the Banshee, the –"
"Scourge of Ireland, the bane of mortals, the harbinger of death, blah, blah, blah, blah … blah." He finished in a bored tone, coming to a stop in front of her, getting right in her face on the last word. "You sing an old song. And if you've gotten tired of mucking about on the Emerald Isle and are looking for some new mortals to play with … well, these ones are taken, find your own. Although," Puck paused, considering, or at least pretending to, "I suppose I could share, if you'd be willing to take on a proper role … say, how fast can you type? Because I could use a secretary –"
"Oh Puck, will you shut up!" He was really beginning to get on her nerves now. How delightful, he thought.
"I didn't come here to play any of your stupid games!" She snapped, still quite irritated. "I can to warn you, you little ingrate!"
"Warn me?" Puck asked carelessly. "Warn me of what?"
"The time of the Gathering is at hand."
There were very few things that could cause Puck to get serious, but her statement was one of them. "That's not funny."
"It's not a joke." She folded her arms across her chest, looking grim. "Mortal travelers came to me a short time ago in Ireland. They had recently been in Avalon. There is only one reason they could have come to my home. Oberon wants us to go back."
"You … you don't know that." Puck countered nervously, grasping at straws. "You're always jumping to conclusions, you know. You … you could be wrong. There could be another explanation."
"Are you telling me you have not felt the call? You have not felt yourself being pulled there?"
"No," he said stubbornly. "No, I haven't." She gave him a disbelieving look, and he withered under her discerning gaze. "All right, so maybe I have," he admitted. "Though really, it's no more than a gentle tug at this point. Hardly distinguishable from the usual Avalon nostalgia."
"Hmm." She nodded, agreeing with him for once. "And all too easy to ignore. I don't want to go back any more than you do, Puck. At least, not yet."
Puck pouted. "Honestly, does he have to have it now? Give us another century or two, is that really so much to ask? Look at all the new things the mortals have invented lately. They're just getting fun again!"
She scoffed. "Oh please, spare me your fascination with mortal 'ingenuity.'"
"Hey, don't knock it, at least not 'til you've tried New York-style deep-dish pizza. If you thought ambrosia was good … you know, if you want, we could go grab a slice–"
"Puck, this is serious!" She cut him off, her voice rising. He sighed.
"I know, I know." He paused. "Any thoughts on what we should do?"
She shrugged. "At this point, what can we do? Run, hide …"
"Borrow, bribe," he finished for her. "Anything to buy more time, I suppose."
"Well, if you think of anything specific, I hope you'll let me know."
"I will." For once, he spoke earnestly.
"I should go now. I think I'm going to give the running and hiding options a try, at least for a while."
"Thank you … for warning me."
The briefest hint of a smile. "You're welcome, I suppose." She started to fade away.
"Be careful," he called after her. "I wouldn't put it past big daddy Oberon to send those three harpies out to capture you!"*
"I hope not," her voice came back to him, as if from a great distance. "In their way, they're almost as annoying as you."
"Oh hush. You know you'll miss me, my little siren."
"Don't flatter yourself … and don't call me that!"
Her last words echoed in the room. Normally, he would be chuckling in amusement at their exchange, but for once, he had more serious matters to consider.
He glanced back over at his desk, and the papers strewn about. Well, technically, according to the terms he'd laid out himself in his deal with Xanatos, he wasn't supposed to use magic to get his job done, but …
"Oh, who cares if I break my own rules? Oberon does it all the time." And with that, he zapped the papers, and they were neatly organized on the desk, complete down to the smallest detail.
"Now," he muttered to himself, "I need to think. Run? Nope, can't do that, I promised Davey-boy I'd stay. Hide? Can't, for the same reason. Borrow? What, and from whom? Bribe? Ah, now there's an idea …" and that was when he had hit upon the scheme to get the Phoenix Gate from Goliath. Unfortunately, it hadn't worked out … for either of them.
"Owen?" Xanatos's voice startled him out of his remembrance. "Did you hear what I said? I want you to call her."
"Of course, sir. Forgive me." He was unable to suppress the slight smile as he spoke her name: "Banshee."
There was a flash of green light, and for a moment, Xanatos caught a glimpse of her in what he assumed was her true form, a beautiful, ghostly looking woman with a tattered dress and wild hair. When the light faded, however, her appearance was entirely human, and "Molly" stood before them.
She looked at Owen, seeming annoyed, or amused, or both. "You rang?"
"Actually I did," Xanatos said, and she turned to him. "We've been … considering your offer. I'd like to hear your terms."
She shrugged. "What is there to say? I won't insult your intelligence by pretending to be altruistic. Helping you serves my own interests, at least for the time being. Make me an employee if you like. I will work for you in any way you see fit; I will provide magical or non-magical assistance as you deem it appropriate. I would only ask that, when I am in this form, I be allowed some of my own time to attend to the needs of this body; sleep, food, and the like."
"And what if you are suddenly forgiven and summoned home? Will you leave us in the lurch?"
She scowled. "Ah, you've been talking with Titania, I see." There was bitterness in her voice now. "Honestly, I don't think you have to worry about that. I sincerely doubt I will be welcomed back to Avalon in your lifetime."
"Oh, I don't know about that. I plan on living for quite a while."
"Sir," Owen interjected. "Might I suggest we deal with that problem if and when it comes? Oberon is extremely slow to forgiveness. It shouldn't be an issue for a very, very long time." He sounded almost weary when he said that, defeated even. But Xanatos supposed he had a point.
"Fair enough. So tell me …"
"Molly. Just call me Molly."
"Molly. What do you know about cybernetics? Robotics? Genetics?"
Molly smiled. "Whatever you want me to know. Whatever you need me to know. If you want to put me at work in your company, Mr. Xanatos, I can make myself suitable for any job you like … except for being a secretary, of course," she added, with a pointed look at Owen, who smiled, as if at some private joke.
"I wouldn't dream of wasting your talents that way," he said smoothly, although he failed to see the humor in her statement. "I'm sure we can find something for you at Xanatos Enterprises. In addition … how good are you at teaching magic?"
"Teaching … magic?" She asked, somewhat taken aback. "Do you mean for me to instruct your son? I thought you already had Puck for that."
"I'm not talking about teaching my son." Behind him, Owen was nodding, having followed his meaning. "I'm talking about teaching my wife. Her magical ability has apparently lain dormant all her life, but we have on one occasion seen it come out. Puck isn't allowed to help her tap into that; he can only train Alexander. But I know my wife would like to be able to access it whenever she wants. Could you help her with that?"
Molly paused to consider. "I suppose, if she is willing to learn … then I am willing to teach."
Xanatos smiled. Fox would be pleased at the prospect, he knew. "Good, then it's settled." He shook her hand. "I'll have Owen find a suitable position for you in the company, and in the meantime, you can begin instructing my wife, whenever she feels ready. Any questions?"
"Where will I live?"
"Well, I own the building, and it's got more rooms than we could ever fill, including plenty of empty residential quarters so … take your pick. Anything else?"
"Well, yes … I understand you have a clan of gargoyles living here."
Xanatos frowned. "Do you have a problem with that?"
"No, but they may have a problem with me." She hesitated, and then began to elaborate. "You see, I have made my home in Ireland for centuries, and just this past year, I encountered what I considered to be intruders to my realm. Two gargoyles – well, three, if you count the great beast – and a human woman who was with them. I could tell they'd recently been in Avalon, and mistakenly believed that Lord Oberon sent them."
"Always jumping to conclusions," Owen interjected suddenly, chiding her, and she frowned. Xanatos held up a hand, and he fell silent.
"I'm afraid I may have treated them … less than kindly." She finished. "I believe they are of the same clan you have living here. It is quite possible they would hold a grudge against me."
She had to be talking about Goliath, Angela, Bronx, and the good detective Maza. After all, how many gargoyles would be traveling with a human?
"Well, thank you for telling me. I'll have to discuss it with them. Goliath is their leader, and I've found he can usually be quite reasonable…"
"Sir, is that wise?" Owen asked. "With all due respect, do the gargoyles even need to know her true identity? It would be easy enough to keep it from them."
"You know Owen, maybe a few months ago, I would have agreed with that. But the Clan has done a lot for me, and we've co-existed quite peacefully for some time now. I've come to know from experience that the more open and honest I am in dealing with Goliath and the others, the more I can depend on them when I need their help. Besides, I couldn't risk keeping this a secret, only for them to find out on their own and feel betrayed, starting the feud all over again." Owen still looked as if he wanted to protest, but her merely nodded. "I'll simply have to explain the situation, give them my assurances, and trust them to behave appropriately. Goliath has never struck me as someone who broods over revenge for every slight. If they can forgive me for all I've done, I'm sure they can forgive her."
"I wouldn't certainly hope so." Owen conceded. "In the meantime, may I suggest you give them a wide berth," he said, addressing Molly.
She nodded. "I'll heed your warning … even though you never heeded mine."
His eyes widened slightly. "But I did heed your warning … at least, I tried to. I just … I had to come back." He sounded slightly sad, or wistful. Then he cleared his throat, assuming his usual brisk, businesslike manner. "In any case, that hardly matters now. Mr. Xanatos, if there's nothing further, Molly and I should discuss her future with the company."
"Alright then. I'll let Fox know what's happening, and she'll set up a lesson with you when she's ready," he told Molly.
"This way, please," Owen told her, gesturing towards his office with his good hand. He was about to follow her when Xanatos stopped him.
"Molly, would you give us a minute?" She looked as if she wanted to ask why, but seem to think better of it, and merely nodded, proceeding to Owen's office.
"Sir?"
"What was that whole exchange regarding warnings all about?"
"Oh. Well, she … she warned me, sir. When Lord Oberon was about to begin the Gathering, she came to tell me it was happening."
"Why?"
"I suppose because she knew that I, like her, had no desire to return home … at least, not at the time."
"So she gave you a heads up, for all the good it did."
"Indeed. Though I must say, I still appreciated the gesture." He paused. "Was there anything else you wanted to know, sir?"
Yes, quite a lot, actually. But … "No, Owen. Not right now. Let me just say that, whatever job you find for her, make sure you're able to keep a close eye on her activities. I still don't entirely trust her."
"I'll have her work directly with me, then." Owen said quickly. "It should make that easier. Unless you object, of course," he added hastily.
"No, it makes sense; I can't see any reason to object." At least, not for the time being.
"Then, if that's all, we will begin our work." Xanatos nodded, and Owen joined Molly in his office.
Meanwhile, Xanatos went to see his wife. He would be very interested to hear her thoughts on these latest developments, and hoped she'd help him find the best way to break the news to Goliath and his clan.
* Puck is referring to the Weird Sisters here, just in case it wasn't obvious.