"Vampire snacks. What a way to go." Danny says glibly, but skipping briskly to keep up with the others as they leave.
Kenneth shudders and then mutters, "I bloody loathe vampires."
"But they bloody LUV you!" Danny quips, grinning.
"You know,... as a snack." He adds, all innocent like.
Thus after a few quick text messages and a good nights sleep.....
Everyone meets up at the Unicorn Bookshop (& coffee shop), a serene place with a discrete clientelle. The midday buzz, is mixed with the rich roast of coffee aroma and pastries.
Most people are sat around small bunches of tables interspersed around the room, speaking in hushed tones. The counter hosts a select bunch of savoury sandwiches.
Upon one of these tables Laura is sat her head in a magazine.
Morien peruses the books, coffee in hand, while she decides whether to put herself in a situation where she'd have to make chit-chat. In the end curiosity gets the better of her. She wanders over to Laura's table and takes a seat, her only preamble a smile and nod when Laura looks up. "What did you make of the Poppycock Sultan last night? Seemed like a good piece of theater to me, if a bit too flashy."
Blinking fast Laura glances around the place, "It was a bit ...extreme. Especially after the attack on the station a couple of nights back. Sooner we can get everyone out of town the better, I say." she hazards.
"Hey Ladies!" Danny chimes cheerfully as he approaches the counter. He is addressing the woman behind the counter, but glances at Morien and Laura with a grin as he does so.
Danny chats amiably with the woman, whom he obviously knows from previous visits, orders a coffee and a danish, and makes his way over to the table where Laura and Morien sit.
"Morning!" He chirps again while pulling out a chair. Obviously a few hours of sleep has done wonders for Danny's disposition. Or this isn't his first cup of coffee this morning.
Morien perks up; that hadn't made the radio news. "Attack by what?"
She grins and shakes her head at Danny's greeting. "It's only morning for late risers like you, Danny-boy."
"Picky, Picky!" Danny poo-poos Morien's comment as he sits down.
"Don't confuse me with details. Or facts. Annoying little things." He mock grumbles into his cup, his eyes twinkling.
"Oh, that's right, you weren't here yet when that happened." Danny recalls, brightening at the chance to tell a story.
Danny quietly fills in Morien on the bare bones of the station attack, resisting the urge to elaborate and draw out the tale. (Morien figures it probably costs Danny a great deal of willpower to accomplish that) He looks to Laura once or twice to verify that he got certain facts right, and soon Morien is up to speed on that particular incident.
And Danny's coffee is still warm.
Sal digs out of the covers with a protesting moan, slapping her smartphone to quell the alarm and acutely aware of the discomfort that comes from sleeping in one's clothing. The weariness in the very core of her bones and the familiar disquiet of her stomach make her wish she could go back to sleep - maybe forever - but a quick review of text messages show she's expected at the bookstore in town at noon.
Noon! Crap! She plugs the phone into the charger, still bemused by the odd shape of the outlets, heads for the shower, shucking clothing as she goes, and stands under the drenching flow until the hot water is gone and the invigorating cold predominates. She scrubs halfheartedly, reviewing the odd happenings of the night before. Everybody must be OK or there would be messages about who was hurt. Then the visions... am I the rabid dog? The cold is painful but awakening. She towels off briskly and tosses on a few clothes. Bookstore... er, turtleneck? A pair of thick-rimmed glasses with clear glass top off the jeans, boots, black turtleneck, and oversized tweed jacket that could have belonged to Winston Churchill. She fluffs her curls to dry naturally and leaves off makeup. Booksy type, check.
The phone displays Charging Complete, so she unplugs it, then scrutinizes it momentarily before tapping her way to the Contacts list and examining the newest. Digging a card from the pocket of her clothes from last night, she enters another new number, then revisits the pockets to retrieve a large black ring. It barely fits over her folded hand to dangle from her left wrist. She examines its intricate carving briefly, then, looking slightly baffled at her own actions, Sal grabs her pack from its place by the bed, checks the time, checks the state of the room, then kicks the dirty clothing under the bed. Military discipline, my ass.
Trotting down the stairs, she blows Fothergill a kiss and is relieved to find the Rover keys on the rack where they belong. She grabs a different set of keys and trots towards the old stable, converted into a long, huge garage. Leaning against the Smart Car, she pulls out the phone again and looks at the latest two contacts, then selects one and presses the Call button.
Sal drags into the Unicorn late, wearing thick glasses, turtleneck, jeans, and a tweed jacket five sizes too large. Her eyes sweep the tables for her friends, examining them all closely before tossing them a wave and heading for the counter.
"Tea, please. Do you have something herbal that could settle the stomach? And, er... I'm looking for a book, maybe. If you can tell me what this relates to?" She taps her phone a couple of times and plays a snippet of a recording of a male voice apparently reciting poetry.
Xandria taps her thin mouth thoughtfully at Sals' request; "Sounds like you want 'Modern Theology and Myths' by George Cecil Jones." She moves over to one of the bookshelves and produces, seemingly from an insubstantial gap between two books a thick leather-bound book. Handing it over to Sal, she adds; "There's some bookmarks at suitable passages - should save some time." Before she goes about to brewing the tea, a process that cannot be rushed.
Sal gives Xandria a nod, takes the book, and slouches over to the table to wait for her tea. She slides into a chair looking somewhat sheepish. "Hi. Sorry I'm late. Thanks for getting me home last night. Kenneth's potion musta worn off and I conked out in the Rover. Are you... is everyone OK? What went on on the boat?" She seems unaware that her leg is jigging anxiously.
Tangris grins. "These guys got the chills from the big bad, then Danny and I took baths. And you say I only get one a year!"
Kenneth, walking foward with two steaming breakfast teas in one hand and a tiny plate laden with pastries, chuckles and says, "Nae, lad, we just said ye smelled like it."
He pushes a tea over to Laura, a stern look on his face, "'Tis Scottish Breakfast. It'll warm your soul and wake ye up, dinnae fret... and nae, ye cannae have any pastries a'fore your tea."
He shakes his head as sits next to her, "Uncivilized heathens, these bobbies."
Sal relaxes at the banter and peeks into the book in her lap, opening to some of the bookmarks, half-listening to the table talk as she waits for her tea.
"Yeah, but I think he smelled worse after the dunking." Danny smirks, pretending to hide the smirk behind his cup.
Morien is still chewing on the new information when Kenneth arrives. Once he's settled in, she asks him, "Just how ambitious is Molly? And do you know what it is she wants?"
Kenneth says, "I dinnae ken. Afore I met her man at the Manor, I would hae said she's the embodiment ay ambition... and she wants the power and wealth she thinks she's owed from the world... a trait she learned from our father..." Kenneth chuckles bitterly, "E'en if she despised it in him, making her think him weak."
He shakes his head, "Her ambition drove her intae the law and drugs tae keep her sharp and on edge... which led tae working for the Reds and being hooked on venom... I dinnae ken which ay those started first. When I saw her last, she was a pawn of the Reds, a favourite pet... and on the wrong side ay things, since I was helping Trip looking intae what happened with his sister."
"Oh, right. Venom," Sal mumbles, paging through her book, "That reminds me: what did that scientist say about needing people who were immune? Because, uh... that's why they hooked me on heroin. And probably why they kept me alive. Their venom... it didn't work on me like it did on the others." She keeps her nose in the book, refusing to meet anyone's eyes.
Morien sits up and takes notice. "So that's what he meant by 'natural immunes'. There's a good chance they gave Ogilvy some of your blood for his experiments, Sal." She scowls at the tabletop. "Feels like I have almost all the pieces of this puzzle, but not quite."
The selkie ticks off items of new information on her fingers. "The wasting disease in the research notes might have been caused by a fey curse. We don't know more on that point because Dr. Spite does not believe in fairies." Another. "The strongest of the Poppycock Peacocks can grant their 'favorite pets' a measure of superhuman power and longevity - but it's a secret among their most high." She raises an eyebrow at Kenneth when she mirrors his choice of words. Then ticks off a third. "And now we know why they were interested in Sal."
Kenneth says, "Again, I dinnae ken. She felt... human... earlier... and there was nae trace ay venom in her system. If they can dae that sort ay thing, it isnae by changing them.... In terms ay the experiment, we ken that some people like Sal be immune tae the venom -- and likely 'twasnae pure heroin, Sal -- and we ken that the Poppycock Prince be the only one ay the lot ay them immune tae the disease."
He then pauses and says, "...or is he? Originally, I thought they were trying tae strengthen the bloodline by going back tae the source and getting stronger poppymilk. But what if he's here tae be treated, instead? Like as nae, he's strong enow tae resist wasting away for a very long time, after all."
Morien nods absently while the gears behind her eyes turn, trying to assemble the puzzle pieces she has. She looks back to Kenneth with some surprise. "She. That one was very emphatically feminine. - I suppose it might have been a glamor, but why bother?"
"She!? Sal's head snaps up. "Wait. What did that ROAB guy from the dragon boat say? They were bringing in somebody... Lord Lawrence's sire... crap! My head was pretty fuzzy. Mignonette? Minuette? Marionette? Sounded like a gal's name, even though she was called a sire."
The selkie smirks at Sal. "They only have sires. It'd be too accurate to call one somebody's dam."
"I think he said Lord Lawrence had a new servant of great power, so this Poppy Court vamp was coming to check on the balance and take his sails in. Or something." Sal shrugs. "I'm not much into vampire politics."
Danny's eyes widen, even as he tries to hide his surprise behind a sip of his coffee.
"Oh, snap." He gives up as his UNaccustomed silence makes everyone aware of him that much more.
"I think we just, almost, attacked the main guest star at the party tonight. Since we didn't, no harm no foul I suppose. But,... if we HAD, and we got found out,... the 'party' would have gone south faster than a lead Zepplin."
Danny takes another sip, and says, VERY casually,
"But we WERE the ones to take down the 'Dragon King', and put the screws to 'Lord Lawrence'. We,... well I,... might just need to prepare a good story to explain that one. Heck, If I spin it right, I might even get applause!" He says with a grin.
He doesn't mention what will happen if he doesn't tell an interesting tale.
"UM, Ken? I've met a few practitioners that played with potions. I don't suppose YOU might be able to whip something up that might keep us from being whammied by Princess Poppycock's Aura? Or at least take the edge off?" Danny asks after a few moments.
"I don't really relish being mind-slaved to ANYthing, much less something that looks at me as a light snack!" He adds emphatically.
Kenneth says, "So, then, all these roads lead back together, and we were under a somewhat false impression about these being a Poppycock Prince that leads that lot? She's the eldest ay the blood and the one with the non-resistant blood?" He laughs, "Aye, lad, 'twould have been bad tae accidentally smite and leave at sea the very one you're supposed tae be protecting."
He sobers a little and says, "At the moment, I've draughts tae take the edge off their venom... but I think ye have the right ay it. The aura is the bigger issue. Had I tae mix it up from books and scrolls, I'd hae said nae, but now that I've had the misfortune ay experiencing that aura all up close and personal like, aye, I imagine I may able tae whip something up. Though I dinnae ken that I can make enow for the lot ay us... Though I would think that I can shield against the effect a mite with the Flame ay Kildare."
He pauses, his eyes distant as he considers a few possible formulae, then shakes himself, "Haeever, resisting Princess Poppycock isnae enow tae stop her, which means 'tis time tae develop the next part ay our plan. I still like setting her up and letting the rules ay hospitality take her out, personally."
Morien raises an eyebrow at Danny. "I remember saying as much at the time, yes."
Sal licks her lips a bit nervously and looks for the staff who are brewing her tea. "So, this party... do we have a plan? I don't like letting Danny go in alone. What about the rest of us?"
Tangris shrugs. "I'll go. Just show me who to hit. I mean, I didn't follow Ken's speech there at all, but I'm really good at hitting things."
"I don't think this is a hitting kind of party, Tangris, though I admit the art exhibit got a bit interesting. It's probably a dress up nice and say polite things, where every word has a concealed weapon." Sal shrugs. "Hitting is easier."
Tangris' brow furrows. "Can my concealed weapon be a shotgun?"
Kenneth nods at Sal's assessment, "Aye, and less dangerous."
"If... IF we managed to get in, our best weapon would be to keep our mouths shut. I'd prefer not to be seen at all, myself. We'd be backup at best, Tangris, though you'd probably have a lot more power among those folks than I would." Sal frowns at her book. "Maybe."
"Are they allergic to animal dander? Because making people sneeze is kind of my superpower."
Morien raises an eyebrow at Danny. "I remember saying as much at the time, yes."
Danny rolls his eyes.
"Alright! Sheesh, I'm sure I can come up with SOMEthing. It can't be TOO difficult to trick a person whose been doing this for possible centuries into doing something stupid enough to get itself killed at a party where everyone tells the truth and yet nobody means what they say." Danny points out wryly, taking another sip of his coffee.
"Piece of cake."
Kenneth smiles, "If ye're seeking inspiration, lad, I may ken where we can find some."
Danny smiles back.
"'Inspiration'? Is THAT what we're calling it these days? I've always thought that imitation was the sincerest form of flattery. And I've never pretended that my best lines weren't all from old movies and TV shows."
"What did you have in mind? I've always been partial to the Marx Brothers myself."
Kenneth shakes his head, and then draws upon a trickle of the Fire of Inspiration, the source of bardic inspiration and poetry,a nd then touches Danny gently, letting that trickleflow through him for a moment... allowing a million partial, unformed thoughts to rise up.. only to fade away before he can quite get a handle on any of them. He then pulls back his hand and says, "I tend tae draw directly from a somewhat less derivative source."
He then chuckles and adds, "And besides, I'm more ay a Monty Python fan, ye ken?"
"Ooooh, Kay. Wow,... yeah,... that works too,..." Danny says, eyes slightly widened and nonfocused as a hundred, or a thousand, thoughts and ideas flicker briefly across his mind's eye.
"MP and the Holy Grail IS a classic,..." He agrees distractedly.
"So, did you get any inspiration on how we all get into this party? Or will you be safe there and the rest of us can take a night off?" Sal asks abstractedly, perusing her book and unconsciously tousling her curls.
Laura watches on, trying to puzzle everything of this strange world together. For too long she'd been used to the mundane world - any touches with supernatural would be explained away by her level headed partner. However she pipes up softly, a little uncertainly at the momentous events. "If Danny is acting as guard, surely he'd need back-up or a maitre'd or MC. And since he's not the most aggressive looking. He might need alot of back-up." There's a tad more admiration as she looks to Kenneth.
[spolier=Ken]You think the pagan witch, Sara, could help you with a draught for numbing the aura - however it might numb some other senses if it's made too powerfully (or have the opposite result!)[/spoiler]
"Or an honor guard," Morien adds. "It sounds like Winter's ambassador is about as VIP as it gets in these parts, and we could get away with being showy about it."
"Ooo, I can do aggressive."
"That's a good idea." Laura pauses with a slight crook of her warm lips; "Although, I won't really be able to join you. That aura did a whammy on me last night and as a policeman it might not be best to be there?"
Kenneth nods,"Aye, while there's been talk ay a mortal signatory tae the accords, I would nae want some Fae tae think the British Government or Mortal Authorities would be getting involved."
He shudders as he considers the possibilities, then turns back to the nascent plan,"I could make potions, though it would prevent me from helping plot as I would need tae start soon... I wouldnae he available tae be presented as Danny's Champion, should the need arise. I'd think Sara could like whip up a batch... Though, I imagine without the first-hand taste ay the aura, she may need tae make the effect more broad, which might numb some emotion if made strong."
He sighs, trying to think of a diplomatic way to make the next point, then attacking it directly,"If we be Danny's guard, then he is responsible for our actions... All ay them, nae just breaking the Accords... That includes paying any costs associated with taking gifts, food or promises from the fae... Even sex. And the fall out for offering violence or insult tae an immortal being with a long memory and a whole host ay different, alien, morals and social norms. I dinnae men about the rest ay ye, but I'd like tae keep Danny, and his future, in one piece."
Sal stares at the book in her lap but her eyes don't move across the page. "Are you guys sure... sure... that these things can't take you over? I mean... I won't be captured. I won't let you be." Her voice drops so nobody can overhear. "I'll kill you all myself before I let that happen again." She sits frozen, breathing heavily, staring at nothing.
Kenneth shakes his head,"Nae... Or, rather, 'tis possible they have the power, but they cannae use it, because ay the rules ay hospitality under the Accords. Unless, a'course Winter's representative trades ye away.... and Danny wouldnae dae that... He knows I'd have tae hurt him."
He smiles to show the last bit was a joke to break Sal's tension, then adds, "In terms ay the Fae, dinnae accept anything that could create a debt, and ye should be fine... But be polite in your refusals... If forced tae take something, ensure they say 'tis freely given, and even then, accept on behalf ay Winter."
He turns to Tangris,"And dinnae think that accepting for Winter be a loophole. Aye, Winter will pay the debt, but they'll come looking for you..and Danny... tae pay them back.. And it'll be a debt without prearranged terms, ye ken.. Owed tae Winterfae."
Tangris holds up his hands. "Dude! I got this. No talking, no deals, no gifts, no f#@king, no taking, no giving. Dude. I will be Ice-Goat."