Previously on Ivory Tower:

A dark figure swore violently as it watched from afar. Steele mowed through burning, but still upright, bodies. The American let out a triumphant whoop as the car made it to freedom.

"Enjoy your petty victory. It will not matter in the end." The figure turned and looked into the tear-streaked eyes of Elizabeth Nin. "Will it, fräulein?"

Ivory Tower

Chapter 7: Wheeling and Dealing

The flight back to New York was uneventful. Flynn was unconscious after his last spell. Delilah was delirious from blood-loss, and fell unconscious herself once they arrived at the airfield. Kenta loaded both of them into the aircraft before clambering in himself.

By the time they had landed, Delilah had recovered enough to stop Billy from driving them to the hospital. "The Ivory Tower, if you please," she stated, exhaustion hanging on every syllable. Billy had been uncertain, but had complied anyway.

So, the three of them were safe in Delilah's office. Flynn had used the hours-long flight to sleep and meditate, and Delilah's nature caused her to recover from her own wounds preternaturally quickly. The two of them quickly began arguing over the next course of action as the wrinkled mercenary looked on.

"Mr. O'Connell, we flew halfway across the country for nothing. Not only did we not find your Warden there, but what we did find immediately tried to kill us! We gained no leads, no intuition: in fact, we gained nothing but another near-death experience to add to a growing list. How am I supposed to explain this to Mr. Rothstein?" Delilah leaned over her desk, both hands flat on its surface as she glared at the investigator.

Flynn stood on the other side of the desk, returning her glare without meeting her gaze. "We learned a great deal more than nothing, Miss James." He sat down and brought out his notepad. He began writing.

"First, we have clues about who our villain is," he wrote out 'Suspects'. "That encounter in the alley after finding Vito Moreno's…corpse. The ghouls are mercenaries, so anybody could have hired them. But that English chap, "he flipped the notepad to a sheet and rattled off a description. "Five feet, four inches tall. Accent places him from lower London. He commanded the ghouls, which makes him an important figure in this 'war'. Might even make him the boss."

Delilah nodded for him to continue, fury dying as curiosity took over. "Meanwhile, we didn't run into any ghouls in Kansas. What we did run into were undead, the obvious work of a necromancer. A particularly powerful one, to control that many corpses. I felt a portal into the Nevernever almost a mile from the farmhouse, which is where all of them came from. I don't know exactly how much power it would take to open such a portal and then control that many undead from the other side, but…" he shrugged, "it's more than I can muster."

Pausing to let that sink in, he flipped back to the 'Suspects' page. "So, we come to a question: any necromancer with that much power could have squashed us in an instant in that alley. So why didn't he?" He wrote out 'necromancer?' next to 'fat Brit' and tapped it thoughtfully. "The Council sent Elizabeth here to look for one of Kemmler's apprentices. Our necromancer is more than likely that apprentice."

He looked up to see Delilah wide-eyed and pale. Kenta looked from the wizard to the White Court in confusion. "Who is this 'Kemmler'. Why are you so concerned about his students? Are they so very strong?"

It was Flynn's turn to go wide-eyed as he turned to Kenta. "You, you don't know who Kemmler is?" he asked. Kenta shook his head, and Flynn took a deep breath. "Kemmler is one of the most powerful wizards alive. He's certainly the most knowledgeable and powerful necromancer of today, possibly in the entirety of history. He's terrorized Europe for decades, and he practically ran the Great War. More than once he's faced off against the entire Senior Council and walked away. It took the combined efforts of every war-capable wizard on the Council to put him down during the War, and now it looks like we didn't actually succeed." He grimaced as the memories came flooding back. "If his apprentices are one-tenth as powerful as he is, then New York may be in greater danger than we had imagined."

Silence reigned.

Delilah pondered how to break the news to Mr. Rothstein. The fact that there was now a world-class wizard manipulating affairs in New York City did not bode well for the mortals attempting to do the same. Any action taken against him would just increase the number of corpses available for reanimation. But corpses were not in short supply anywhere these days. So why New York?

Flynn searched for connections to give the case some substance. Motive? Unknown. Target? Well, that would be the liquor shipments, according to Delilah. This unknown mastermind attacks had already set the bosses of New York at each other's' throats, providing him with plenty of fresh corpses. But just what was he doing with them? And why did the Brit never use the undead? Ghouls were mercenaries, which meant you had to pay them somehow: you never have to pay an undead soldier.

Kenta was lost in thoughts of the past. An old witch, cunning and powerful, who had once roamed the seediest streets of his home looking to chain the souls of the recently-dead, binding them to her will. It had been decades before he had finally run her down. By that time, she commanded thousands of ghosts and ruled the back-streets of the capital with an iron fist. Was history repeating itself?

"The Brit isn't our necromancer." The speakeasy owner and the mercenary both looked up, startled from their own ruminations. Flynn's eyes had brightened, and he stood and paced the small room agitatedly. "Fact one: he didn't immediately kill us in the alley. If he were our miniature Kemmler, he could have done it without a second thought." Kenta snorted at this.

"Fact two: the ghouls. Why have the hairy, slavering beasts roaming the city doing his dirty work instead of the silent walking corpses? It doesn't make too much sense, unless the Brit can't control the latter." He sat down abruptly, rubbing his temples.

Delilah spoke up, brow furrowed. "Very well, Mr. O'Connell, I can accept that. So is our fat friend working for the apprentice, or on his own?"

"We'll have to assume that the two are in league," Flynn replied, then growled softly. "But we don't have enough evidence to tie them together definitively. What are we missing?" He ran a hand through his hair in frustration.

Kenta stood up and walked over to Delilah's desk. With quick motions he swept everything off to the side, ignoring her protests, and slammed both palms flat onto its surface. Metal slid down his arms and formed a broad, flat plain along the surface of the desk. He raised one hand, and a square structure began to rise, stopping at around chest-level. He repeated the process with his other hand, then pointed at the narrow alley between the two metal structures.

Flynn's eyes lit up. Stepping up to the desk he pointed at the alley. "Our first encounter with the ghouls?" At Kenta's nod, Flynn began rubbing his hands together.

"Let's recreate the scene." Soon, metal figures resembling the three of them and their ghoulish attackers appeared. Tiny metal pellets flew from the ghoul figures and impacted the figurine resembling Kenta, which absorbed them and fell backwards. Flynn then directed the attack on the ghouls, ending with the last ghoul detonating into dozens of miniscule metal shards.

Delilah watched with a puzzled expression until the men were finished, then asked, "And what does this tell us, gentlemen?"

Flynn tore himself away from the battle and shook himself. "Yes, what it tells us…" he paused, searching his brain. "Why did they attack the Ivory Tower in the first place? That's where they were headed before they were spooked."

He turned and leveled his gaze on Kenta. "Which reminds me, Kenta. Every time we've run across ghouls, they've been actively terrified of you. The one you were bending over before he exploded," he gestured toward the metal buildings, where dozens of shards were being absorbed into 'floor', "as well as the one you interrogated in the alley. And I seem to recall the sight of you putting the four of them to flight in the first place. Just what did you do to terrify them so much?"

"I will count that as your question, Mr. O'Connell." Kenta's voice was softer than usual, and carried overtones of deep sorrow. "These mercenaries are not so terrified of what I have done. It is what I am that brings them such fear."

Flynn paused, waiting for more. When nothing more seemed forthcoming, he prompted, "Which is?"

"You are out of questions, Mr. O'Connell."

The investigator swore softly, and heard Delilah doing the same under her breath. "Okay, let's get back on track." He pointed at the alley again. "That one ghoul blamed the attack on Vito Moreno just before he detonated. We arrived at Vito's place to find him long dead, and we were forced to escape out the window. There, a short man with a British accent set two gigantic ghouls on us."

The scene began to play out again, a wall rising up to form a dead end in the alley as two figures were slowly lowered from a window, with a second falling out shortly afterward. Mini-Delilah and mini-Flynn fought off the giant ghouls that appeared before a large metal cat pounced from a nearby rooftop. Flynn smiled and pulled up a chair.

"Alright, this is where Kenta finds out about Elizabeth being kidnapped and taken to Kansas. We left, hoping to find her and her captors and wrap up the whole case. Billy flew us there, and I tracked down the farmhouse in which she was kept, but by the time we got there she had been moved. We were attacked by around 200 undead over the next ten minutes before I managed to stop their arrival through a portal. Then Billy provided us with an escape, and we returned here to New York."

The investigator pulled out his notebook and, setting it on his thigh, began writing rapidly, scribbling figures and scratching out words as he flipped from page to page. His pen flew faster and faster until, with a snap, the tip broke off and spilled ink everywhere. Swearing, he reached into his breast pocket and pulled out his handkerchief to mop up the mess. As he pulled it out, something fell out of the kerchief and hit the floor. Bending over, he reached out a hand to grab the small object, but pulled back suddenly. He stood suddenly and whirled on Delilah. "Exactly how hard did you hit me," he asked, rubbing the back of his head.

Delilah blinked twice before reddening. "In the alley? Rather hard, Mr. O'Connell. I did apologize, you know."

Shaking his head, Flynn used his handkerchief to grab the object off of the floor. Setting the cloth-wrapped object gingerly on the desk, he gestured to Kenta. "Can you escort Mr. Rothstein and Lucky here immediately?" he asked, and the mercenary nodded, reforming the metal up his sleeves before setting out. "Delilah, may I steal your office for a short while?" Startled, Delilah slowly nodded before exiting.

Alone, Flynn sat and reached for the phone. He had some very important calls to make before this puzzle could be solved.

Out in the Tower, Delilah busied herself greeting regulars and welcoming newcomers to her establishment. Though still early in the evening, the Tower was packed with people eagerly drinking their troubles away. That particular thought reminded Delilah of her own Hunger, still pulling on her attention.

"Miss Delilah!" Ah, finally. A resolution for her peculiar problem. She turned toward the voice and said, "Mr. Jeffs, how very good to see you." She accepted the flower her long-time admirer offered. Smiling demurely, she rested her other hand on his.

Carl's eyes clouded over with a familiar emotion, and his breath hitched. "D-d-do you fancy a walk, Miss James?" He stuttered out, hand shaking as it reached for a bracing drink.

Her hand intercepted his on its way toward the brandy. "Of course, Mr. Jeffs. Why, you should know this neighborhood very well, should you not? I believe you once told me your apartment was nearby…"

Flynn set the phone back onto its cradle, a grim smile forming on his lips. At least some of the puzzle pieces were falling into place.

The front door opened, and a vision of absolute loveliness floated through. Her eyes flashed silver, her skin was flushed, her dress, different from the one she had been wearing earlier, clung to her figure in all the best places. Her every step challenged the wizard to step up and throw himself at her, to debase himself to her every whim. Flynn reached a hand out toward this ivory idol slowly gliding toward him…and slammed it on the table. Hard.

"Miss James," he gritted out, hand throbbing, "would you kindly stop that?"

The dreamy expression slid off of her face. "Apologies, Mr. O'Connell. It was entirely unintentional." Suddenly, it was as if a great weight had left the room. Flynn drew a deep breath and rubbed his aching hand.

"Thank you." The wizard turned back to the spread of papers on the desk and rearranged several of them. When Delilah leaned over his shoulder to examine his work, she could make no sense of the scribbles and calculations.

"What on Earth does all of this mean, Mr. O'Connell?" she asked, arching a delicate eyebrow.

The wizard smirked. "All in good time, Delilah. Like when Mr. Rothstein arrives. Where are they, anyway?"

The White Court and the wizard turned to the door expectantly, as if that question were the trigger for the mercenary's arrival. When nothing happened, they both shrugged. "That always works in the detective novels," Flynn joked. Delilah chuckled.

A sudden knocking on the door-frame interrupted the merriment. Delilah opened the door, and Kenta stalked through. Close behind came a tired-looking Arnold Rothstein, followed by Luciano. Luciano looked as though he had been interrupted mid-revel, and his face was graced with at least three different shades of kisses. At Delilah's look, he grinned and began wiping the lipstick off with a handkerchief.

All eyes turned to Rothstein as he began to speak. "Delilah, I've had at least five attacks on my warehouses in the past twenty-four hours, to say nothing of what's happening to the other bosses. Please say you know who's behind all of this." His eyes bored into hers, exhaustion warring with worry in his expression.

Delilah, in turn, looked to Flynn. The investigator stood and gestured Rothstein to the chair. "You'll want to sit down for this one, sir."

"Let me get this straight. One of your world's craziest wackos sent a lackey over to New York to raise hell? And this lackey is raising people from the dead to kill off more people so he can raise them from the dead?" Lucky Luciano was understandably confused. A few days earlier, the world had made sense. You work smart, play by the rules you have to, make friends in the right places, and come out on top. Now he found his world crowded with wizards, ghouls, walking corpses, and other assorted fairytale creatures.

Flynn sipped at the drink Delilah had thoughtfully provided and nodded. "That's it in a nutshell, Mr. Luciano. Kemmler's apprentices are some of the most terrifying wizards out there, and the White Council says one of them came here. We're still not clear on why, exactly, but we'll figure that out later. Right now, we just need to find him and…" he paused.

"Kill him," Kenta finished.

Flynn shook his head. "I don't think any of us has the power necessary to bring him down." He gestured toward the calculations on Delilah's desk. "The amount of power it would take to open that portal from inside the Nevernever is beyond tremendous. Several members of the Senior Council working together might be able to do it, which makes me somewhat wary of our chances."

"This apprentice…you said he might be that smarmy Brit from earlier?" Luciano asked.

Flynn looked down at his notes and frowned. Seeing his expression, Luciano sighed. "You don't know?"

"Mr. O'Connell." Everyone looked behind the desk as Rothstein rose from his chair. "You offered your assistance in solving this mystery. I accepted that offer because we dearly needed the help then. We're on the verge of open war on the streets now. If you know anything that could help solve this…hell, if you can guess at something that will help us, now's the time. It's time for the parlor scene, Sherlock."

Flynn drew a deep breath and began pacing. "Our first alley encounter. Four ghouls attacked us after we followed them from the Ivory Tower. At the time, we were convinced that they were after the Tower itself. But what if they weren't?

When I got back to my apartment that night, I was contacted by the White Council. They told me that a Warden had gone missing, and that they'd been trying to contact me for weeks. I was too distracted by the fact that Elizabeth was missing to think about it at the time, but how could they not have contacted me for weeks? No calls made it to my apartment, though I know I gave them the proper address and number.

While Kenta fetched the two of you, I made a number of calls. One to Billy Steele, and seven to the White Council. Each time I tried to contact the Council, my call was disconnected while it travelled across the Atlantic.

Something is interfering with my attempts to contact the Council. Something, probably that same thing, is keeping the Council from contacting me. I managed to slip one call through the night of the attack, but I haven't been able to connect with them since."

Kenta's eyes widened in understanding. "Those ghouls were after you."

Flynn nodded. "This Kemmlerite has kept me from contacting the Council, has kidnapped the Warden responsible for tracking him down, and sent four heavily-armed ghouls to kill me, the only local White Council member.

The ghouls betrayed the name Vito Moreno, and that was the next trail we followed. There, we found a desiccated corpse we presume to have once been Mr. Moreno. In his hand I found an item, which I took for later examination. During the fight afterward, however, I took a blow to the head and completely forgot about it."

Delilah huffed and turned away from him, face coloring. Luciano smirked, and Kenta chuckled softly.

Flynn brought out his kerchief and opened it on the table. Kenta went silent before darting forward and staring at the small pin lying in the center of the white cloth. His eyes narrowed as he looked up at Flynn.

The inspector nodded. "When you showed me your pendants, I noticed that symbol on the center of the wheel. What does it mean?"

Kenta frowned. "It is a religious symbol. Buddhist. A symbol of good luck and eternity."

Rothstein had been staring at the symbol, and suddenly his face lit with recognition. "I've seen that before. I met a German physicist back in 1921 when he visited New York. We chatted for a while, and he mentioned a political party on the rise that used this symbol. Funny, it only came up when the Mayor 'let slip' that I was the head of the Jewish mafia." He moved to pick the pin up.

Flynn stopped him. "It also has several nasty spells attached. Touching that thing with bare skin causes instant mortification. That's what killed Vito, probably no more than an hour before we arrived. Hence why the Brit was nearby: catching us in that alley was probably just serendipity."

"This Brit, who may or may not be the 'necromicer.'" Luciano noted.

"Necromancer," Flynn corrected absently, "and no. That symbol is of a lesser-known German political party. Besides, Kemmler is known to be biased against non-Germans when choosing his disciples. We don't even know for sure if our English friend truly works for the Apprentice. All of the evidence we have points to a relationship, though, so we'll assume it for now."

Luciano suddenly chuckled. "Try not to sneeze, buddy. You might knock this house of cards over."

Flynn nodded stiffly. "I would never bring this before a judge, but…" he shrugged helplessly, "it's all we have right now."

Delilah spoke up from behind Rothstein. "You mentioned you called Mr. Steele earlier. Why?"

The investigator nodded, grim smile forming again. "I was fading in and out at the time, but I remember seeing new bullet holes in his car on the way back from the farm. I called to ask him where they came from. He told me that he'd followed a dust trail leading away from the house after he dropped us off. He followed a truck away from the house, the driver of which he described as 'a fat palooka in one of those stupid hats.' Apparently, the back opened up and something large, hairy, and gray opened up on him with a Thompson. He swore he saw another, smaller figure in there, but bugged out before he could get a better look."

Everyone was silent. Then Rothstein sat down heavily and asked, "So what do we know?"

"One: the man behind all of these attacks is a German wizard apprenticed to Kemmler." Flynn began. "Two: he has in his employ several ghouls, as well as however many walking corpses he can muster. And whatever this British fellow might be. Three: he has noticed our efforts to track him and the Warden he kidnapped, and always seems to be a single step ahead of us." The inspector began pacing again. "We still don't know why he's doing this. Why New York? Why not Chicago, or D.C.?"

"Power." Kenta said simply. Flynn turned toward the shorter man and raised an eyebrow. "Mr. Rothstein and Mr. Luciano represent much of the crime in this state. This means money, and money means power."

Luciano nodded slowly. "The 'business' in Chicago isn't as concentrated. So many smaller mobs with dozens of little capos means the power is spread out. Here in New York, there's pretty much just the Genovese and Gambino famiglias. If this guy wants to take over the broads, booze, and gambling of New York, he's got more to gain here."

Wide-eyed, Flynn stared at Luciano. "Of course!" he shouted, "How much money do you make in a year, Mr. Luciano? You, Mr. Rothstein? Between the two of you, you've probably bought and paid for dozens of politicians, and whole districts worth of police." His face fell. "That's a little bit depressing, actually."

Delilah interrupted his musings again. "Very well, Mr. O'Connell. We know who, how, and why. What about when? When is he going to strike next, and what are we going to do to stop him?"

Rothstein raised a placating hand. "I don't know about all the mystical stuff, but if I tell the other capos that some foreigner is behind all of this, they'll pull together against him." His expression turned stern and proud. "We may not make an honest dollar, but we're one-hundred percent American."

"Well, that's something, at least." Flynn said. "Now, I've done a tracking spell to try and find Elizabeth using the scrap of cloth I found in the farmhouse basement." He held up the gray fabric, now wrapped around the lock of hair he'd used then. "Something is blocking me, but I can tell that she's alive, and in New York. Likely, the Apprentice is keeping her nearby. I'll keep at it; try to find out where he's hiding. Then we'll move in and hope that bullets will do the job."

"I might know another way to find him," said Delilah. Every male in the room turned and took in her thoughtful expression. The words slipped out of Flynn's mouth before he could stop them.

"And now I'm worried."

Shades of Green was a little-known bar squirreled away near Marine Park in Brooklyn. To your average passer-by, the place looked run-down and unwelcoming. When Delilah spoke the password and the front door opened, however, the images inside of the speakeasy shattered that glamour.

Delilah stepped briskly through the room, followed by Kenta and Flynn. Flynn glanced about the room with a raised eyebrow, taking note of the scores of tiny trees scattered throughout the room. Several young men and women wearing smiles and little else danced throughout the room, serving drinks and leading patrons onto the dance floor. More played instruments of all descriptions, filling the room with sweet music.

Kenta's eyes narrowed, and he reached out with his senses. No iron, no steel: no metal of any kind. The cutlery was intricately carved from wood, and the drinks were served in oaken tankards and mugs.

" 妖精 " the old mercenary swore. The word appeared in the air before shaping itself into a butterfly, which Flynn watched fly away. Turning to the shorter man, his incredulous expression was met by Kenta rolling his eyes. "Fae."

Flynn nodded. "I know. Summer Court." He waved toward the patrons. Kenta finally noticed that each wore the same glassy-eyed expression and cheery smile. He shuddered. "Bad memories?" Flynn guessed. Kenta remained silent.

Across the room, Delilah approached a great throne carved from the wood of the back wall. Scenes from myth and legend filled every available space on the throne: unicorn hunts, animal transformations, and lots of wood nymphs. The figures seemed to cavort and frolic across the vast surface of the throne, interrupted only by the thin man seated therein. Light was scarce in this part of the club, hiding his features.

"I greet you, Johnny Greenwood, Duke of the Summer Court." Her tone was polite and dry, displaying no emotion.

The dark figure shifted, antique clothing rustling. "And I greet you, Delilah James, daughter of Claude Raith of the White Court. Welcome to my court." The Fae Lord declared in a loud voice.

Delilah winced as every eye turned on her. By all that was still holy, she hated politics!

"I come in the name of Arnold Rothstein and of Charles Luciano. I come asking a favor, for which a favor shall be given." At this, the figure straightened and gestured. Branches grew from his throne and wrapped the two of them in a leafy dome. Delilah could no longer hear the music, and when she glanced back she could see nothing through the thick foliage. The leaves began to glow a soft green.

The figure on the throne stood and stepped forward. Soft green light illuminated handsome, chiseled features. Though he appeared thin, his figure reminded her most of a rapier readied to strike. A small smile graced his features, showing just the barest hint of gleaming teeth. The light cast his skin a verdant green hue, a pale echo of the colour in his eyes.

He raised a delicate hand and rested it on her chin, tilting her face up toward his. "Tell me your request. And sing it well, little bird. You'll find me in a poor mood for requests, this day." She shuddered. His voice reminded her of dark groves and thick vines through which no light could pierce.

She steadied herself. Opening her mouth, she relayed the tale of the past few days. She left out names as well as Flynn's theories and observations. With great care, she gave what information she needed to, and no more. She watched Greenwood's expression darken as she went on, until finally his face was set in a thunderous frown.

Outside of the leafy vault, Flynn and Kenta were growing worried. Finally, Kenta swore softly and raised a hand toward the barrier. Flynn caught his hand just as a tendril whipped out, slashing across their knuckles. The investigator swore, whipping out his second handkerchief and holding it to his bleeding hand. Kenta's eyes gleamed as he held his hand up, displaying skin unblemished save for the usual wrinkles and liver spots.

"We have been attacked. I will resolve this now." Without another word, Kenta made a sweeping motion with his hand, pulling a sword from his waist. Flynn blinked in confusion as he pondered just where Kenta had pulled the five-foot blade from.

Greenwood's grip on her chin had tightened, and she felt her bones beginning to creak. "This is a mighty favor you ask of me, Delilah James. And you must bear the burden yourself, unless you bring your employers before me to beg for it themselves."

Delilah glared into his emerald eyes unflinching. "I accept the burden." Greenwood smiled again and released her chin. A burning sensation on her left hand made her look down to notice a small mark etching itself into her palm.

Greenwood handed her a small paper flyer. "Tomorrow night, the Metropolitan Opera is holding a special show featuring one of my clients, Lawrence Tibbett. Most of the cities' capos will be arriving, and they had planned to use the opera as an excuse to meet. Think of it; every big name in this city's crime under one roof."

Delilah's eyes widened. The Fae Lord looked smug. "And now, little bird, I shall have to think of what your favor to me shall b-"

The sound of metal flying through the air interrupted him. Or it may have been the beveled steel blade-tip resting just beneath his nose.

The vines on one edge of the dome withered at the touch of steel, and a short old man stepped through. "You need to relearn courtesy, ju tei."

Greenwood's expression twisted in fury. "Get out of here. You have no business with me, kaibutsu."

The two of them argued heatedly in some language Delilah didn't know. Greenwood's tone was imperious, and carried heavy overtones of violence. Kenta, on the other hand, spoke softly and calmly. Delilah felt an extreme nervousness and impatience emanating from the old man, though.

Finally, Greenwood grumbled something and nodded. "I'll forgive it this time. Wizard O'Connell," he called in a louder tone.

Flynn stepped forward. "I apologize for the harm my barrier caused you. In the future, I trust we shall both be," the Fae Lord gritted his teeth, "more careful."

Delilah shook her head to clear it. She stepped out of the now-shrinking dome of vines and nodded to Greenwood. "Shall we discuss this discussion at another time?"

The Fae Lord waved her away and returned to his throne, glowering as the trio exited his domain.

"Kenta, you do know that patience is a virtue, right?" Flynn asked as the three of them exited into the brisk September air. Delilah nodded in silent agreement.

The mercenary had the grace to look embarrassed. "I am uncomfortable with yo sei. Even more so as I am covered in iron." Flynn 'ah'-ed in understanding. Kenta glanced to Delilah. "Did you manage to learn anything from him?"

Delilah nodded, glancing around. It was early morning, maybe four o'clock, and the sidewalks were mostly deserted. "He gave me the next target. The Metropolitan Opera House tomorrow night. Most of the city's big names will be there, including the Mayor and many of the famiglia. It is too tempting an opportunity for this necromancer to pass up."

"So it is tomorrow night?" Flynn asked. Delilah nodded an affirmative. "Then we should meet at the Ivory Tower at noon tomorrow. And yes, I'll be there this time," he said, rolling his eyes when Delilah opened her mouth. Her eyes danced with mischief, and even Kenta had a small smile.

The smiles soon disappeared, though. Each of them felt the enormity of the task they were about to undertake, and it weighed heavily on each of their minds. The three split up and headed to their respective homes, preparing to face death the next day.

A/N

Whew. I apologize for the really, really late scene. My dad underwent brain surgery and had complications, I fell ill with a stomach virus, and I had five exams in the space of a week. Oh, and I'm working with a team to design a better iron-ore pelletizer at one-fifth the market price. Hell hath a new name: Engineering College.

Anyway, here's the obligatory parlor scene. I hate writing parlor scenes, mostly because I'm no good at it. Thank God for vanilla mortals to explain things to.

You may have noticed that each of the three characters brings complements the others. This was more accidental than intentional.

Kenta is a master of combat, and represents the Power of the group. He is awkward in Western politics and conversation, however, and tends to be impulsive.

Flynn is intelligent, patient, and skilled. He represents the Intelligence of the group with his investigative skills and wizardly prowess. He is average at combat and social encounters.

Delilah is, of course, the chief of Social Kombat. She is suave, endearing, and very good at manipulating people. She is, however, terrible at combat and average at investigation and intelligence.

Thank Alkeni and Razorsmile for this update. It was their reviews and PM's that made me crawl from my bed and begin writing. At this point, the next chapter is just under 50% complete, so thank them for that, as well. Happy Thanksgiving, one and all!

PS: Shades of Green is also the name of the BEST hotel in Disney World. Traditionally, it's for US Service members, and it offers them reduced rates.