New Twists in the Path

I woke up at my desk again... wait, not my desk... How did I end up... in Dr Beck's office?

Right... Father and the others suited for underwater operations went after Qli, I headed the Becks surgery to prep it for triage...

Red Fire.

I turned to see the rest of the surgery, and the pool of blood... but no body? Think, girl - what happened here?

Near as I can remember, I had an episode in the Madness. I searched the desk for notes. No receipts for the morgue, the sheriff or even the cold storage units at the Consulate... but the formulas here....

Oh, no.

After all the nagging I did about the reanimation serum, Father is going to be really upset to find out I made an alternate batch.

Now I have to find a wandering ex-corpse.

The Boxcar

I have the memories of five warriors, but this would be my first battle on home territory under my own power. Preparing for it had been by spinal reactions, but inside, there was a small corner of my brain looking for a place to hide. Waiting for the go signal, that small piece of me wanted to run, but I knew this was something that needed to be done.

Suddenly there was too much going on, keeping track of the patrol made up of Jaegers who had learned to swim and Qli taking Beck out of harm’s way - that which was called Steel Head by the urchins was cornered, even if it did not know. As soon as it realized it was cut off, we would need to banish it quickly.

Zaide’s notes said the key to the thing would be something small, easily carried by the primary life form of the plane. Finding it visually in this morass of flotsam was difficult, especially while dodging the large bodies in battle. The boxcar was huge if you were searching for something that fit in the hand, but far too small for a patrol of Jaegers to duke it out with something making a bid for demigod. At Father’s shout, I risked flying by wireframe in Sight.

THERE! It glowed feebly with Beck’s soul trapped in the web, and I was horrified to find the web was made up of the wisps of the souls caught before him! The thing was making the prison stronger with each soul it caught to anchor! Smashing it would do no good, Beck would die, and the others would not go on to the planes of their beliefs.

Papa picked up on my distress, and growled, “Do vat hyu must, Hy will coffer.” With his bulk between me and that thing that did not belong here, I had to move fast. Unmaking something made by a mind this twisted was hard, like trying to explain land physics to a fish, but I had a little help from Beck, as he roiled about in the center, and oddly enough, from Chi Yun. He had been tapped as a herald, but had been killed before the call had pulled him in completely. He writhed in impatience as we unwove the prison holding them.

Beck’s sluggish reactions meant he would need help finding his way, but we had that already. As Chi Yun joyfully folded into the space between planes for his reincarnation, and what was left of Polish Bob was gathered to Purgatory for reformation, I gathered Beck up and pitched him to the catcher on the pier, mentally shouting **Lady Fairycat! Heads up!** Even as she winced at the horrid (and really unintentional, honest!) pun, Softpaw pulled his soul and body back together.

Then Ya Yiwama got angry.

Thrashing about, it reached for the tooth, throwing the patrol around as if they were children's toys. The last bit of the tooth was still holding him here, and I frantically incinerated it, the last of the ash disintegrating to nothing just before the thing reached Papa. When it was gone, so was Steal Head, then something shifted under the boxcar, and it began to slide into the harbor. Papa shouted, “Shift out, Hy get out onder!” and he dove for the opening on the underside of the boxcar, following Decebalus and Radu.

Qli was wedged up against the wall, not moving. I was able to reach her as the water reached half-way up the tilting boxcar floor. At my touch, she initiated a galvanic transmission, [SELF-DIAGNOSIS: TESSERACTOR DESTROYED. SPINAL COLUMN DESTROYED. LIMBS DESTROYED. SAVE YOURSELVES. COLLECT ME AFTER. POWERING DOWN.] I kissed her forehead and promised, “I will be back for you after I get the diving gear.” Then I slipped between planes to the place Father had designated as the medical triage area.

It just keeps getting worse....

Fine, I get Mama to rest a few days, and she sets up a containment circle for neophyte epmaths in the Folly garden. At least this time she did it with the notes I left, and it isn't draining her to leave it up.

Beck's been missing for too long, and not in any of the usual spots he goes to pollute himself as part of his self-medication. I didn't get a link on him, my fault - I didn't think he'd go that far on walkabout. I'll tag him when we find him again, with or without his permission. Need to get with that jeweler and find out what we can trace, if we can manage a shield that will let her sense him without getting out of control.

Control - I haven't been keeping my shape well, if the reactions from Mama's assistant are any gauge. I thought I had managed to stay unnoticeable, but either I have cracks in the glamorie, or she's seen too many of what she calls "uncanny" acts. I don't know, maybe it's just because she knows me now. I'm tired enough it could be I am just forgetting to check it.

Father has his hands full of zombies again. I swear, they ought to just have inoculations every equinox, considering how often that comes up again. Except for that librarian, and the ones Father is able to treat, zombies are a bloody nuisance, literally. There's a weird thought... the librarian zombie seems to have the best social skills, I ought to see if it is the knowledge, instead of brains, that they need.

Back to Steelhead, flying on too little sleep, I go to ground before Xavael starts to patrol. Even with the bloodline trace, it's hard to believe the link to the Founder. Still gives me the shakes remembering the emergence.

Wolfgang is usually on watch when I get in. He wrinkles his nose at me when I collapse on the davenport without taking off my armor. Sorry to be such a slob, but I don't think anybody's going to sleep without some sort of weapon in hand. Papa was half-dozing in the armchair, last time I was there, and he had switched back to his old patrol leathers. The 'kin haven't had any leave time lately, but the hunt has caught their attentions.

Still, this can't go on much longer. I need sleep.

Does it mean you have to throw your body off a building?

Father was fine, of course. Once I got him to the clinic, he was struck by inspiration. It seems odd, but I don’t share his passion for engineering. I left him to it and transitioned back to Steelhead. I had been awake for going on thirty hours, and needed to rest. One last patrol before sleeping, since I was still too wound up to sleep properly.

Everything was fine until I got to Shanghai. Finding a shopkeeper on the roof was not normal, but it did not look like he was preparing to jump. Still, I circled his building, letting him know I was there, and landed near him, careful of loose tiles.

“I should be doing something,” he said by way of greeting. Speaking in Russian, it took me a little bit to find the right language centers in my head. Bits of half-memories of folk-tales told by a woman’s voice helped me make the connection.

“Do you get any feelings other than that?” My pronunciation was not quite right, mostly because I had to be careful not to filter in the Romanian with it. “Anything I can do to help?”

Mr Danielovich shook his head, “Nothing specific... not even a place I should go walking... only that it is nearing the time...”

Going carefully, I tried to read his emotional aura. You have to be careful with empathic work, because someone who was borderline sensitive might be startled by the brush of something not physical. You might not even know they were sensitive until they began to have hysterics. Sitting on the edge of a roof, that would be bad. “You generally get told to go out wandering with this feeling?” I asked under the cover of a calm reassurance projection.

He shrugged, staring off into some middle distance. “You get to know when you need to be somewhere, right? Take a turn into an alley maybe one block sooner than you usually do, or go see the sights across the bay.” His focus sharpened, briefly, staring at the spot where Father's lab had been. He shivered in the warm breeze, and I remembered that he had gotten Mr Antfarm out of the wreckage. I could not remember if anyone mentioned Mr Danielovich being injured at all. Now, when I tried to pin down recollections of that time, my mind slithered away to Mr Antfarm’s treatment, Rengerin’s investigation, and anything else that was happening at the time.

“Huh, neat trick, that - being able to be there, just in time.” He had some good shields, so he was not radiating his emotional state like most humans do. It’s not that odd, finding someone shielded. Some people just grow them out of need in times of extreme adversity, and that seems to be something a lot of immigrants to our city have in their past. The ones that don’t shield tend to go mad, or drug themselves into a stupor. That reminded me I needed to check up on Dr Beck. AFTER I talked Mr Danielovich off the roof. “Does coming up here make the feeling stronger?”

He seemed to struggle with words, even though we were still talking in Russian. “It is... up, but not here, and not... now, only.... there is still the urgency....”

More soothing projections, “Would you like to try a higher altitude? I can give you a lift up higher...”

“Yes, please - this itching in my spine is becoming stronger.” He stood up, and I pulled on my grip gloves, while he got into position.

I had not noticed he was in the exact correct position for a wrist-grip pickup, and said, “Right - let’s get you into the air, Xavael.” A simple slip of the tongue, with monumental consequences. I do not know why I decided to test my theory at that moment... and at the time, I had not realized I had said the other’s name.

He stopped, becoming very still, and whispered something I did not catch. While I was hovering, waiting for him to get back on his mark, he turned to me, and said quietly, “I Remember.”

There was a light kindled in his eyes, and it swiftly grew to encompass him, and he repeated, as the wings unfolded from his back, “I Remember!” in a clear voice, no louder than we had been speaking, but it seemed to echo back from the rest of the city. The radiance grew bright enough my irises closed completely to save my retinas, and then suddenly, he was gone.

I hadn’t expected him to transform in front of me. I shakily landed on the roof, wondering what had been loosed in the world, and where the angel had gone. I wasn’t going to be able to sleep for a while.

Father Knows Best?

I folded through the sunset in Steelhead to the pre-dawn darkness in the bayou outside New Toulouse. Combat protocols indicate high altitude transfer with minimal disturbance of the flow, to assess the area. Even at a klick up, the Founder glowed brightly. I guess the family never has gone in for subtle, even from the first. No unfriendlies in the area, and He Who Is Speaker was gone. I landed quickly, and made the proper obiescence to the Founder.

Zaide's heartsong shone through as he knelt beside me and hugged me, an action that my parents would not believe he was capable of doing. As we rose, he said, "There is no time for formalities. Darien will awaken soon. He is once again mortal. Under no circumstances is he to inject himself with the formula again." He stepped back for takeoff. I saluted as he faded out, and turned to Father.

Still groggy, he was uninjured, and to my surprise, his eyes were again the brilliant blue of a New England autumn sky. I muttered under my breath, "I'm not sure how I'm supposed to keep him from doing something he knows is a bad idea, but he keeps doing it...."

Father growled, "...'m not deaf, Amarantis." He carefully levered himself up. "We should..."

"We should get you to the clinic, just to make sure you are all right," I interrupted him. When he staggered on standing, I was a little worried. A quick reading of his aura as I supported him showed it was mostly fatigue. Still, taking him to the infirmary was a good idea, it might keep him out of trouble for a few hours.

Tumbling through the crises

The conference with the family was a bit shocking. There were more questions generated than answers to the older issues. Still, we have a course of investigation now, where before we only had educated guesses.

I filed my papers with Mother so that I could start canvassing the mountain district as part of the Health Brigade. As long as we were at it, I might as well make it official, and help on two fronts for the clan and Vater.

Making the transition back to Steelhead, I intended to check up on my charges there when the shock reached through the planes. Vlok het - Koen was transitioning forward? Was he mad? Well, yeah, okay - he IS a Mason, that goes with the territory, but whatever... I picked up Qli's distress signal, and marked the coordinates. I wasn't sure I could make it there without a boost, but I could arrange that in Steelhead.

Landing on the roof of the Consulate office building, I dug my key to the hatch out of my belt-pouch, when another wave hit me - Zaide? He was back? Wait, what in the name of the Seven Sciences did Father think he was doing?

Then another connection snapped into place and I had no thoughts other than getting to New Toulouse.

Can't A Girl Get Any Sleep?

Wolfgang finally transformed last night, no doubts about that. Vater was properly publicly offended that the sheriff had hidden the tribe past the marker oak. Hey, for all I know, he could have been actually surprised, since he doesn't have time to read all of the reports. My reports are mostly low priority, since I am not officially attached to the office, and all I had seen was a village in a pocket valley, with no signs of martial organization beyond hunting parties.

After Anya calmed him down, Wolfie was a little disoriented, and understandably upset by the transformation. He was mostly worried about what he had done, and Sheriff Ortega confirmed he was not in trouble, just that he had to learn control. To do that, they would be leaving at daybreak. Mama started organizing the staff at the dance, handing out assignments as she walked with her arm around Wolfie, getting back to the Consulate building. I checked Wolfie over and he had no strains or cuts from his escape. Some of it was that he was limber and possessed of the Trickster's own luck, but some of it was rapidly healed.

Papa was upset we don't have something strong enough to contain a teenage werewolf, but he shrugged and hid it from the rest of the group. I might have to arrange for him and Uncle Gus to talk about security cells later. I only know medical restraints, and I don't think anything I have at hand would be able to keep up with Wolfie's metabolism. He is off chicken for a bit, I think, but was able to eat a respectable amount of bauernfruhstuck with a side of sticky buns for the first time in a while. Good thing Bunică came by to help Mrs Parks with the kitchen duties in the small hours of the morning, what with trying to feed and provision everyone to be ready by daybreak.

Bunică managed to save a dozen sticky buns to send to Anya for helping out. Interesting that all she had to say was "They are for Anya" and Wolfie left them alone. He even added a bowl of whortleberries to the basket before he left to pack. His first reflex to pack for a scientific field trip was deflected by Papa turning out his pack, and taking out half the empty sampling vials, replacing weight-for-weight with field rations and the trail kit. Wolfie added the slingshot and the shepherd's sling on his own.

I headed back to the lab again and slept. It's gotten to the point I sleep better with the hum of Father's machinery in the background. No word back from him, but with the aetheric transmitter, we don't always match times anymore - but at least I get to talk to him and my sibs occasionally. I drifted off organizing my next report for him.

I woke briefly when Manager Lunar came in. There's another kettle of trouble, but even as a teen-aged human, he knows which things to leave alone. It was safe enough for me to doze off again until I heard the clatter of someone unused to the stairs past the decontamination field across the door. The newcomer who is not Zaide was downstairs. I moved silently to the edge of the sleeping loft to watch and listen.

The offhand way the Manager rattled off decades of the Foundation history rankled a bit, but seen from the outside, by a human in hormonal fluctuation, it was mostly accurate. Just leaving out huge chunks of boring incidentals that made the family history. My family history. I waited and watched the newcomer as Lunar left.