Character Sheet: Alexis Affery
Appearance
Prelude

Journal Entries:

Thursday, June 1st, 1995
Friday, June 2nd, 1995
Saturday, June 3rd, 1995
Sunday, June 4th, 1995
Tuesday, June 6th, 1995
Thursday, June 8th, 1995
Friday, June 9th, 1995

Name: Alexis Affery
Player: Andrew Shultz
Status: N.P.C. (Player Resigned)
Chronicle: Santa Cruz/Mage
Essence: Questing
Nature: Caregiver
Demeanor: Traditionalist
Tradition: Order of Hermes
Mentor: Grandfather (Salamander Fire Spirit)
Cabal: None

ATTRIBUTES:
Physical: Strength-1, Dexterity-2, Stamina-3
Social: Charisma-4, Manipulation-2, Appearance-2
Mental: Perception-4, Intelligence-4, Wits-2

ABILITIES:
Talents: Alertness-2, Awareness-3, Expression-2, Fortune Telling (Tarot)-3, Intuition-3
Skills: Etiquette-2, Leadership-2, Meditation-1
Knowledge: Cosmology-1, Investigation-1, Linguistics (Latin/Spanish)-2, Occult-3

SPHERES:
Forces-2, Spirit-3, Time-2

Backgrounds: Ally (Grandfather)-5, Avatar-1, Resources-5, Sanctum-2
Merits & Flaws: Addiction: Caffeine (-1), Dark Fate (-5), Medium (+2), Nightmares (-1), Spirit Magnet (+3)

Arete-4
Willpower-5
Quintessence-1
Paradox-0

Appearance: Alexis Affery is of moderate height, maybe 5'10", and slim build. His reddish hair is cut fairly short, and often stand on end when not properly disciplined. He is usually clean shaven, although he sometimes wears a short beard, although that is not the case presently.
He dresses conxervatively, usually in extremely expensive suits, grey in color. He wears Italian leather shoes. While he does own perhaps two t-shirts and one pair of jeans, he is obviously not used to wearing them. Alexis is 28 years old.

PRELUDE:

Prologue: School Days

Alexis Affery - he preferred Alex - watched as the driver pulled the last of his bags out of the van and looked up at the brick face of the building he would live in for the next few years.
"Do you need assistance with the bags sir?" asked the driver, but Alex shook his head. He would carry them upstairs himself. Around dormitories for the school year. Alex didn't want to be reminded that his own parents had died less than a year ago. He missed the old school already, but staying at the house had been too painful...It was best this way, kind of his aunt to arrange for him admission to Andover. Shouldering a bag, he pulled his suitcase slowly up the stairway behind him.

Part One: A Dusty Attic

"So, you have finally arrived, Alexis. You have certainly taken your time about it, you lazy lackwit." Alex jerked upright, banging his head - taller than he was used to - against the low beams of the attic. Imagining voices was not really a new thing to him. But they didn't usually insult him.
"Got your attention, have I? It's about time. About time you open your blind eyes and see!"
At this, Alex stumbled backward, tripping over a trunk. It flew open, scattering dusty scraps of cloth through the air, as crashing noises told of similar disasters further off in the attic. The dust hung in the sunlight that shone through the attack's only window. The dust swirled about as something moved through it it, unseen.
Alex scrambled across the floor to the attic stairs. But the doorway at the top of the stairs was closed. Jammed against it was a coat rack which must have fallen over when Alexis encountered the trunk. Alexis pulled at the brass coat rack, but with his scrawny build, he was unable to move it.
"No, no, boy. Now that I have you, I shall not let you go until you understand. A talent like yours begs not to be wasted." Dust stirred in the air as something moved closer. "Now, student, take that chalk and make yourself useful. I need a circle...about five feet in diameter."
The young man was having nothing of chalk or circles. He leapt up and ran over to the window. Flinging it open, he could see a narrow ledge above a steep slate roof. Below, in the fields, classmates of his played soccer. He felt a chill on the back of his neck, and turned.
"The circle, boy, and then we shall see." Shaking, Alex saw a piece of chalk resting by his left foot. It must have rolled there when the trunk broke open, surely.
"Do it, Alexis. It will be fine." Another small voice was soon joined by a chorus of reassurance. He bent over, and picked up the chalk. Clearing away the boxes, he drew a circle on the floor.
A shimmering in the dust, and before him, inside the circle, was the figure of an old man, slightly translucent, in an old-fashioned suit and hat. He looked up at Alexis, and spoke in a clear strong voice, not in the boy's mind any more.
"Lamentably slow, student, but acceptable." The man looked down at the ragged circle. "Barely acceptable. Open that crate and remove the books and the box that you will find within." Alex attempted to pry the crate open, but was not strong enough. "If you look over there, boy, you will find a crowbar, I believe."
Inside the box were four leather-bound books, and a dusty box. The man took the box from Alex, his hands cold, and opened it, spilling brightly colored cards over the floor.
"Pick one, Alexis Affery." Alex picked up a card, not looking at it, and turned it over in his hands. It showed a man at a table, cup, sword, rod, and coin arranged before him. One hand was twisted upward, the other pointed down at the floor.
"Show it to me, Alexis." Alex turned so that the man could see. "The Magician, Alexis. The Magician" He smiled.
"Go now, boy, and read those books. Study these cards as well. And return here tomorrow, at noon."
The brass coat rack had fallen off of the door, and Alex flung it open and fled.

Interlude: Studies

Once his fear died down and his curiosity flamed up, Alex began to read, and to wonder. He returned the next day, and the next. He read more. He searched the Academy's dustier shelves for more books, sent by Sandolphan, for that was the man's name. The ghost's name, actually. Sandolphan had died of a heart attack, there in that very attic. He had been a teacher at the Andover himself, in the 19th century.
Alex learned that the voices he would hear were spirits. That he himself could bring spirits over from the place where they dwelt. And that spirits were attracted to him more than to most people. Sandolphan showed him the past. Showed him how to use the circle, the showstone, and the star. Taught him the Latin he would need to command the world.
For two years he learned, above and beyond the studies that took up his normal day. And he became adept at finding lies and reasons to go up to the attic. Soon it was senior year, and admission to Harvard or Princeton seemed likely. things were going well, in more ways than most could see.

Part Two: Grandfather Salamander

"Help me, man-child."
Alex heard the voice, and sat bolt upright in his bed. He turned and looked at his roommate, Buddy, sleeping quietly. It must be a spirit, Alex whispered into the air.
"Who are you, sir?" When dealing with spirits, Alex had learned how important respectful speech was.
"I am Grandfather Salamander." The voice was dry, and crackling like fat in a flame. "I am hurt, man-child, and need assistance."
"And sir, what guarantees will you give me for my assistance, for I know you not."
"I will be thy servant for one hundred and one years, and I pledge not to harm thee. Only please, I need help NOW."
"I accept, sir. What do you need?"
"Light a flame. A match, a candle, anything"
Alex looked up at the smoke detector, and thought. Moving silently, he jammed a cloth around it, and then pulled a candle from his desk, and lit it. The flame burned like a torch, not a candle, and melted wax flowed down its side.
"Ah, oh, master, I thank you." The voice was stronger now, and carried the hot smell of burnt metal. "Truly, thou art benevolent."
"Alex, what the fuck are you doing?" Buddy had rolled over and was staring at him. "You want to get us both suspended?"
Alexis only smiled, and said, "It seemed like a nice night for a candle, Buddy. A good night for a little bit of fire."
Buddy rolled his eyes and said, "Well, I'm going to pretend to be asleep if they catch you. It's not my ass it's going to be on." and proceeded to pull the blanket over his head.

Interlude: A Family Christmas

"Alex. Congratulations, I heard that you were accepted to Harvard." the guidance councillor was all smiles, as though she had something to do with it. "I just wanted to offer, ah, if you needed someplace to go over Christmas vacation"
"No, thank you. I'll be staying here, with the foreign students."
There would be one or two others, perhaps. but Alex wanted to celebrate Christmas with those truly important to him: Sandolphan and Grandfather Salamander. Christmas Eve found him up under the eaves, the attic warm where it should have been cold. Grandfather Salamander's small red body put out waves and waves of heat from where it lay in the fire-pot. In the chalk circle, long since made more formal with signs and scribings, Sandolphan materialized.
"Ah, Merry Christmas, Alexis."
"Merry Christmas, Master Sandolphan. And to you, too, of course, Grandfather." The stirring of the salamander in him flame showed his general contempt for anything so new as Christianity.
The three of them sat in the attic for a moment, an awkward silence descending before Alexis blurted out, "I have a present for each of you." He continued quickly. "I know, Master Sandolphan that you most want to rest well, I found you skull. It was in the biology lab, but I recognized it if you want, you can" Alexis trailed off, and placed a skull on the floor. "And you, Grandfather, I give you the only thing I can. I free you from your service to me."
The flame danced and the dry, crackling voice of Grandfather Salamander said, "Man, for man thou art and man-child no longer, I have grown fond of you in these past months." He thrashed in his flame. "I think perhaps I will stay on with you, for a while. Perhaps a long while. But I thank you for the gift."
Sandolphan stepped forward to the edge of the circle. "I'm afraid I too must decline to use your gift now, although I think the time shall come soon when I shall pass on. When you leave this spring, for Harvard, perhaps then. But I also thank you for the gift."
Sandolphan coughed, apparently embarrassed. "I didn't think to get you anything."
"That's okay, Master Sandolphan. You've already given me so much."
Alexis took Sandolphan's hand, still somewhat cold even in the warmth of the attic, and the three of them sat there, quietly, until morning.

Part Three: The End of the Beginning

The spring leaves had unfolded and summer was waiting in the wings for its entrance, the day of Alexis' graduation. The band had played, and his aunt and uncle had dutifully come up to Andover to play the part of family. He had begged off, claiming to have urgent business elsewhere, and run up the old stairs to the attic. Inside, Sandolphan was talking with Grandfather Salamander as Alexis flung open the door.
"Alexis, my son, I should be saying my goodbyes to you and Grandfather Salamander." Sandolphan swept off his hat and bowed. "It is traditional, at least in my line, for the master to do a reading for the student, when he leaves. For you are student no longer, Alexis, but truly must be your own guide from now on." A hissing brought Sandolphan up short. "Aided, of course, by the wisdom of Grandfather Salamander, of course." The hissing subsided.
Alexis sat down. "I'll miss you, Sandolphan, once I'm gone." He looked at the skull, sitting on a crate. "I guess you will be leaving, as well, won't you." It wasn't really a question.
Sandolphan's ghostly hands expertly cut and shuffled the old tarot cards seven times, and then handed them to Alexis. Alexis cut them, and handed them back. Sandolphan dealt out five groups of three, arranged in an X.
He turned over the center three. "Your inner nature, Alexis. the Magician in the center, no surprise there. The princess of cups, compassion. And the Hierophant, tradition." He chuckled. "That doesn't tell us much we don't already know, does it?"
He turned over the three at the upper left. "Your present. The two of swords, that is peace. The ace of wands, that is the root of fire - I take that to indicate Grandfather Salamander. And Death, that means great change, as should be expected for a man about to change his place as totally as you are."
Sandolphan turned over the three at lower left. "Your near path. I see the Lovers well, it looks like perhaps you will be lucky at college?" Alexis blushed a bit. "I see the Hermit, symbol of learning. I'm glad to know you won't be giving that up when I am gone. And I see the six of swords, which means science, which I take to mean the university where you shall be. Still, watch out for science, it is not necessarily your friend." A vision fluttered in Alexis' head, of ivy-covered brick, and a dark-haired woman's smile, of long nights studying and longer ones enjoying himself.
Sandolphan's hand moved to the three cards at upper right. "Here we find you far path. I see the chariot, great works accomplished, and the Sun. You will do well for yourself, truly. I also see the fool dancing along a cliff, I predict you will see many adventures in your life." Alexis saw a sunny land, and the waves of and ocean, unfamiliar faces and felt his heart beat at unknown excitement. Sandolphan hovered over the last three. "Here, Alexis Affery, is what it all means. Your final fate lies within these cards Do you wish to know it?" Alex nodded, and Sandolphan turned the cards. "I see the Devil, the Tower, and Ruin, the nine of swords. Oh Alexis, I wish I had not seen these. You have a doom upon you." Alex could hardly hear him. He felt himself being crushed, as beneath a horrible weight, and knew he was dying. He felt fire embrace him, and a return of the crushing weight, and he knew surely that he was in hell, and would be condemned there for eternity.
Grandfather Salamander called fire upon Alexis' hands, and did not protect them. In his vision, Alexis felt his hands burning, and snapped back to reality, beat out his hands. Sandolphan regarded him sadly.
"Alexis, I wish I had not done that reading." Sandolphan wrung his hands together. "You will accomplish great things, my son but you are doomed, in the end."
Alex picked up the cards, and looked at them. For a moment, he felt the great weight of the future pressing upon him, but it passed again.
"Master Sandolphan, I can only hope that it can be changed." Alex stopped as Sandolphan shook his head. "Well, then I can only hope to be able to carry my fate well." Alex heard, through the open window, his aunt calling for him.
"Good bye, Master Sandolphan. And rest in peace, Master." Alex picked up his coat and turned quickly to go, hiding the tears in his eyes from his master.
"Good bye, Alex. God bless you, and keep you well." Sandolphan felt tears on his own cheeks as he watched his pupil go. After Alex had gone, he turned to his own skull.
"I wish I could take the fate that I had shown you, Alex. Ah, but I am tired, and it is time to rest. Good bye, Grandfather Salamander. Please do for me as we discussed."
Grandfather Salamander's presence flitted out of the attic after Alex, and behind him, the skull and the tarot cards suddenly flared with fire, and collapsed to ashes.

Postlude: Santa Cruz

Alexis dropped his bag on the floor of the front hall, and looked about the place. The agent had been right: this was the house for him. Perhaps here, in Santa Cruz, he would be able to confront his fate, or avoid it. He had not been able to sleep for the past few nights at all, the nightmares, the feeling of crushing weight, had been so strong. The old house creaked a bit in the wind, and he unwound the wrapping from about the fire pot he carried.
"We're here, Grandfather Salamander. If you will wait just a moment, I will light a fire for you in the fireplace. Our things are already here." He looked around at the antique furniture, already moved in, and moved to start a fire. Later, once Grandfather Salamander seemed pleased with his fire and incense, Alexis looked out over the other houses, down Beach Hill. The old Victorians appealed to him more than the newer houses down by the beach. Perhaps here he would escape his fate. Or perhaps here he would meet it. How important was it which happened? Alex wasn't really sure. He turned back inside, and began to unpack his traveling bag. In the fire, the small form of Grandfather Salamander scampered and played amongst the flames.

Thursday, June 1st, 1995 6:36 a.m.

Alexis peered out of his telescope. It was a more mundane activity than he supposed he was to be about, but for that reason, he found that he enjoyed it very much. Since morning had been dawning for some time, Alexis turned his glass to the ocean, hoping to catch a sight of a sea otter. He had seen one the week before, it's head popping up amongst the heads of kelp, but this morning not even a sea lion graced his view. He had heard that they had gone to their breeding grounds, leaving only the occasional harbour seals.
Bundling his coat and packing up the scope, he walked along the plankings of the wharf, back to his house on Beach Hill. The fog had retreated, leaving Santa Cruz exposed to the morning sun. Without the fog cover, Alexis knew that it would be yet another hot day in the city. As he walked back he looked to his right, noting how quiet the Boardwalk was in morning and how lonely it looked, stripped of its frolicking crowds and nighttime lights. But they would be back. It was summer, after all.

Thursday, June 1st 6:47 a.m.

Alexis held his cold hands over the glowing coals of the brazier to warm them from the morning's cold. Grandfather stirred in its depth and Alexis could see him crunching a piece of coal in his small jaws. The coal was cracked into white hot embers which soon disappeared inside the small Salamander, well disguised in the red glow of the brazier.
"Why do you go out into the cold and wetness of that terrible sea?" Grandfather chided him. "Do you think to find some truth in its muggy bleakness that you will not find in living fire?"
"Didn't Sandophan tell me that truth comes from many sources?" Alexis answered the fire spirit. "Certainly, though water is your enemy, there is a beauty there nonetheless. What is the adage? `In Beauty, Truth, in Truth - Beauty.'"
"No my Son, I do not begrudge you the kiss of sea born air and her sounds, but I will warn you to resist her siren song. The ocean is deep and full of spirits who will swallow you into oblivion. Certainly it has done so to so many others. And the sea is cold, so cold here."
"Thank you, Grandfather. I know you only looking out for me and I promise that I will be wary of any water spirits I meet."
"That is well, my Son. They are contrary to say the least, their word as fluid as their nature. And they lack the passion of fire."
Alexis yawned, brushing his careless red hair. Looking over at his bed, he imagined how soft it was. Unable to resist it, he fell onto it, drawing down comfort over himself. He surrendered to his dreams, unable to put them off any longer.
Grandfather pulled himself up and, crawling to the brazier's edge, regarded young Affery with ancient eyes. Then, fading from the brazier, Grandfather found greater comfort in the large fire down in the main living room. Using his power, he tried to protect Alexis from bad dreams, deflecting the darker ones as best he could, hoping to buy the lad at least a little peace and rest.

"You don't love me, do you?" Maggie accused him. "If you did, I don't see how you could do this to me. What about us? What about what we talked about?"
Like a well worn video, this episode in Alexis' life played itself out once again in his dream. The despair, the sacrifice being seen as selfishness. How could he tell her he was leaving her to save her, to save her from whatever darkness was waiting for him?
"You don't understand, Mags, you don't listen to me, do you? I have to go. We've been over this a million times. I can't stay with you, not yet. I have things to work out and you just can't be a part of them." He tried to reason with her.
"You don't love me," she practically spit the words. "You never loved me. I was just some game to you. Well, I want you to know that I feel sorry for you, Alex. I've always felt sorry for you. That's the only reason I ever went out with you in the first place!"
Anger had helped him then. It made him say things he didn't mean, yet giving them an edge that sounded like truth. "You're right, Mags. I'm sick and tired of you! I want some new blood! I want to live my life and I haven't done it yet. And I sure as can't with you hanging on my back! Find some other sugar daddy, damn it!"
Again there were tears, again the slamming door that never opened again. And again the feelings.

Thursday, June 1st 10:34 a.m.

Alexis jumped from his dream, as he often did. Groggy from lack of sleep, he reached out for his phone. Punching a number, he waited while it dialed, collecting his thoughts back to a conscious mode.
"Hello, operator? I'm looking for a listing, please. Craighead, Margaret Craighead. Yes," He spelled the name for the operator. "No? Well, what about Brooklyn? Alright, thank you." He put the phone down.
Putting his hands to his face, he tried to stop them but they came just the same. Tears flooded down his face. Sensing his anguish, Grandfather came back to the brazier, but seeing the watery manifestation of sorrow, retreated in disgust. There was nothing he could do anyway.

Thursday, June 1st 5:42 p.m.

"I do not advise it, my Son. This is a strange place. The spirits of Ador Sanh are not dead, not yet anyway. You are not ready to learn their secrets yet."
"But Grandfather," Alexis protested, "I thought the cornerstone of Ador Sanmh was fire? Certainly you would have good truck with such folk."
"Indeed," Grandfather agreed, "But as you said earlier, there are many truths and Ador Sanmh was a city of built on many truths. Some fires burn black, remember?"
"Yes, yes, Grandfather," Alexis agreed, not quite understanding the salamander's enigmatic response. "I remember, but if I am to grow, I must face challenges. Everything I have tried of late is too easy. How can I learn?"
"By showing discretion," Grandfather countered.
"Let me at least try," Alexis pleaded.
"Before you can open a door," Grandfather told him, "you must be able to close it. Can you honestly say that you can close the door you wish to open? Remember the powers over the mountains. Will they stand by and see you unleash a new reality on this place?"
Alex hadn't thought about the Technocracy. How would they view the manifestation of faerie fire in Santa Cruz? He realized that Grandfather was probably right. Arcadia's hold on earth was long dead and belonged to another time. For one of the Hermetic order to try what he sought, was to risk disaster and Paradox unparalleled. It would have made him no better than a Marauder.
He got up and left the circle.
"Where are you going?" Grandfather asked.
"Out for a walk. I need to think. Goodnight, Grandfather."
"Goodnight, my Son," the salamander told him,.but the door had already closed.

Thursday, June 1st. 10:23 p.m.

Though evening had been approaching, the air was still thick and hot. Alexis had walked down the walk, past the large Queen Anne Victorian that was almost across the street from him and then, turning the corner, went down the path to Pacific Avenue. Not knowing what to do, he had decided to take in a movie at the Del Mar. It was some forgettable movie, but its noise at least crowded out all the thoughts playing themselves in his head.
On his way back to his home, Alexis found himself walking alone on Cedar Street. Though there were people about, he was utterly alone. He hadn't thought about it, but perhaps now was the time to explore the Shadowlands of Santa Cruz. But the more he thought about it, the more it sounded like asking for trouble. The dead were so full of their petty squabbles, it would be better if they didn't know he was in town just yet. What had Grandfather said about opening doors? But then, as soon as he thought this, something, a force, a sense, thoughts or their manifestation hit him full on, like a load of mental bricks. Their was a melding inside him, but only for an instant, as something washed through him explored him and left him, and as it left him, a residual of what it had been thinking about was left in his head. Like soiled garbage, the stench of something evil left its impression in his mind and he knew that murder was about. Alexis turned around. There was no one nearby, but a homeless man sleeping in a tree. Alex, cautiously walked up to the tree. The man's eyes opened at once and with a blank face, turned down to gaze at Alexis. A voice from another world issued from the man's mouth.
"Begone from here, Mage! I thought you were the one who had summoned me. I have been summoned and I will complete the task set before me!"
Before Alexis could even think to react, the man jumped down, a charnel stench issuing from his body, and he ran off into the night.
Alexis hurried back to his home. On the way, he noticed a young lady brushing her hair in one of the rooms of the Queen Anne, but being preoccupied with other matters, hurried on to his own home.
Turning the key, he ran inside and sat before the great fire.
"Grandfather!"
"I know, my Son," Grandfather replied from within the fire. "The very power that almost tempted you to call it here has found new prey in those of the Verbena sect. At first it thought you had summoned it, for your thoughts were strong with it. Do you see now the nature of what you sought?"
"What was it Grandfather? It, it"
"They have called a demon, my son," Grandfather told him. "I sat in the fire under one of their noxious vats and heard their chants. They seek to bolster the waning power of the wolf-men, by harnessing a spirit of darkness to do their bidding. I shudder at the number of sleepers whose souls they have promised to this thing, when it has waged the war they seek on those from over the mountains. The drums of war shall sound very soon."
At that moment Alexis thought he could hear them even then.

Friday, June 2nd, 1995 2:01 a.m.

Alex reached for his coffee, grasping first the empty mug, and then the full one he had set beside it, and swirled it around in his mouth before swallowing. Before him, the cards were spread and told a tale. The problem with Tarot cards is that they tell as much of a tale about the forture teller as the fortune. Alex looked down at the cards and read them. The Devil. The Tower. His fate stared up at him again from the cards.
Alex picked up the cards again, laying a few aside, and shuffled. First he placed three cards in the center of the desk.
"The Devil, because it is a demon. The Hermit, for the homeless man it now inhabits. And the Moon, for..." Alex wasn't really sure what the moon was for, but it felt right. And he knew never to second guess his intuition. He laid down three cards above these.
"The past." He turned the first card. "The Priestess. Well, one might have expected the Magus, but for Verbena, this might be better."
The second card followed. "The Chariot. A great work. Well, tell me something I didn't know." Alexis snorted.
The third card stuck to the table for a moment, before suddenly letting go and coming into Alex's hand. He turned it slowly. "The six of swords, inverted. Science opposed. Perhaps the technocracy." He carefully placed the card face down again. "That could refer to bringing the spirit through their gauntlet... Or it could refer to the demon's purpose, to fight them. Perhaps I should go to numerology, Grandfather, that's more exact."
The salamander said nothing, for he was elsewhere. Just as well, as he often insisted that anything so flammable could not hold the future inside itself without burning up.
Alexis dealt three more cards off of the deck, and turned them over one after another. "Strength, inverted. The woman holds the beasts apart, yet inverted, they find each other. The two of Swords, peace inverted, for strife. The drums of war beat indeed, Master Salamander. And the Magus..." Alexis fumbled at the last card. "It's stuck to something else." He pulled them apart. "The ace of Wands. That is Grandfather Salamander, no doubt. Which means that Magus is none other than myself. It seems I am involved, whether I wish to be or not. I should look for-" At this, Alex caught himself in a gigantic yawn. "Perhaps I should look for sleep."
Stumbling upstairs, Alexis collapsed in a soft chair by the bed, took off one leather shoe, and never got to the other one. His head lolled to one side, and he slept.

Friday, June 2nd, 1995 7:07 a.m.

"AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAaaaaaaaaaaaaauuuuuuuuuugh!" Alex screamed and leapt up out of the chair, tripped over one of his shoes, and fell forward towards the sharp corner of the iron footpiece of his bed. The bed twitched out of the way just before causing an extremely painful dent in Alexis' head. He banged his shoulder on it as a consolation prize and collapsed onto the floor.
Groaning, Alex started to remember where he was. Santa Cruz, however many vicious beds it might contain, was certainly an improvement over the pits of Hell. Thinking about beds... he certainly remembered his being less lively than that.
"Who is there?" He asked as he rolled slowly to his feet. "Grandfather?" He didn't feel the warm presence of the Salamander, however.
Concern. Confusion. Careful. Curiousity.
Alex felt something there. Definitely something, though, not someone.
"Spirit, I respectfully ask that you name yourself." Always best to
be delicate and respectful.
Self. Sameness. Serendipity. Selection.>
Well, whatever it was, it seemed to be benevolent. Maybe a poltergeist, or something like that. "May I call you Serendipity then?"
<Assent. Agreement. Awe. Affable.>
"Might I enquire as to why you are here, Serendipity?"
<Disturbance. Disquiet. Dimensionality. Distress.>
"Are you hurt? Do you need help?" Alex looked at the hard metal of
the bedframe. "I think I owe you a favor."
<Others. Outside. Ought. Only.>
"You are fine, but you ask for help because of a disturbance..." Alex rubbed his shoulder and put his other shoe back on. Suddenly he had it. "This disturbance, might it be a new spirit? One that is inhabiting someone? A demon, perhaps?"
Nods. Nasty. Necropotent. Negative.>
Alexis nodded himself. "If you will follow me to my circle, perhaps we can make this discussion easier." He stopped. "If you wouldn't mind waiting until after a shower?"
<Cleanliness. Certainly. Celerity. Certainty.>
"I'll be quick, I promise." Alex grabbed a towel and some fresh clothing. "Perhaps you can go talk to Grandfather while I shower."
<Respect. Reluctance. Ramificiations. Really?>
"It will be okay, he's not as bad as all that. Tell him I sent you."

Friday, June 2nd,1995, 8:32 a.m.

"I never thought I'd really use one of these things." Alex placed the board in the center of the circle, and placed the slider on top of it.
"Burn what you can, Alexis." Grandfather Salamander had returned to his post in the brazier. "It certainly ought to be better that trying to understand the poor thing directly."
Alexis began to chant in Latin, pulling the spirit Serendipity into the circle. It came willingly, not fighting, manifesting in the circle as a twist of smoke above the board. Slowly, ever so slowly,the slider moved.
"H-E-L-L-O-A-L-E-X-A-N-D-M-O-S-T-W-O-R-T-H-Y-S-A-L-A-M-A-N-D-E-R" Alex's pencil scribbled on a notepad, taking it all down.
"I-M-O-S-T-R-E-S-P-E-C-T-F-U-L-L-Y-A-S-K-F-O-R-H-E-L-P"
Alexis and Grandfather Salamander watched as the spirit spelled out its problem with the demon, and what they might be able to do to help.

Friday, June 2nd, 1995 8:39 a.m.

"G-R-E-E-T-I-N-G-S-T-O-Y-O-U"
"Hello Serendipity," Alexis nodded to no one in particular, conscious of the habit, but feeling the need to show some social affability. "Why have you contacted me?"
"I-F-Y-O-U-P-L-E-A-S-E-I-T-W-A-S-Y-O-U-C-O-N-T-A-C-T-E-D-M-E"
"Did I?" Alex was perplexed. He didn't remember ever having contacted this spirit.
"But you did contact her, my son," Grandfather's voice appeared in his head. "In your dreams."
Alexis was surprised, not at the least that Serendipity was a she. Rather defensively, he replied, "Well, a man can't be held responsible for what he dreams."
"A man wouldn't be. But a Mage would. Which are you?" Grandfather chided him.
"Alright Grandfather, what are you trying to say?" Alexis asked.
"Whatever you do, conscious or not, you must be ready to accept the consequences of your actions. You have power."
"I-H-O-P-E-I-A-M-N-O-T-I-N-T-R-U-D-I-N-G"
The ghost was most affable.
"No," Alexis assured her, "You are not intruding. I am very pleased to make your acquaintance."
"A-S-A-M-I-Y-O-U-R-S"
Alexis puzzled over this last one before sorting it out.
"Serendipity, why is it I called you, if I may ask? And why did you answer me?"
"Y-O-U-W-E-R-E-L-O-N-E-L-Y"
"And that is why you came to me?"
"Y-E-S-A-T-F-I-R-S-T-A-F-T-E-R-W-A-T-C-H-I-N-G-Y-O-U-I-R-E-A-L-I-Z-E-D-T-H-A-T-I-M-I-G-H-T-B-E-A-B-L-E-T-O-H-E-L-P-Y-O-U-A-T-L-E-A-S-T-I-N-Y-O-U-R-D-R-E-A-M-S"
Alexis smiled. "Well, it was sweet of you to try."
`W-E-W-H-O-A-R-E-D-E-A-D-U-N-D-E-R-S-T-A-N-D-W-H-A-T-I-T-I-S-T-O-B-E-L-O-N-E-L-Y"
Alexis decided to get back to the matter at hand. "
Serendipity, you asked Grandfather and I for help. What is this help, if I may ask?"
"I-M-U-S-T-A-P-O-L-O-G-I-Z-E-F-O-R-C-O-N-T-A-C-T-I-N-G-Y-O-U-D-I-R-E-C-T-L-Y-L-I-K-E-T-H-I-S-F-O-R-I-T-V-I-O-L-A-T-E-S-O-N-E-O-F-O-U-R-M-O-S-T-S-A-C-R-E-D-L-A-W-S"
"The Dead have laws?"
"Y-E-S"
"What are these laws?
"Y-O-U-M-U-S-T-N-O-T-A-S-K-T-H-A-T-O-F-M-E-T-H-E-R-E-A-R-E-T-H-I-N-G-S-I-C-A-N-N-O-T-T-E-L-L-Y-O-U"
Alex sighed. He watched Grandfather rolling over in the red embers of the morning fire. The Salamander seemed bored with the conversation and paid it no heed.
"Does your contacting me have something to do with the demon that the Verbenna have summoned?"
"T-H-E-S-P-I-R-I-T-Y-O-U-R-K-I-N-D-H-A-S-C-A-L-L-E-D-I-S-A-S-L-A-Y-E-R-O-F-S-O-U-L-S-I-C-R-Y-F-O-R-T-H-E-O-N-E-I-T-I-N-H-A-B-I-T-S-N-O-W-H-I-S-T-O-R-M-E-N-T-I-S-A-S-C-R-U-E-L-A-S-A-N-Y-I-N-H-E-L-L"
"My kind?" Alexis was puzzled. "Why do you associate me this terrible summoning?"
"Y-O-U-A-R-E-A-N-A-W-A-K-E-N-E-D-O-N-E-A-R-E-Y-O-U-N-O-T-A-S-A-R-E-T-H-O-S-E-W-H-O-C-A-L-L-E-D-T-H-I-S-T-H-I-N-G-F-R-O-M-T-H-E-V-O-I-D"
"Yes, we are all Awakened, but we follow different paths, different philosophies towards Ascension."
"T-R-A-N-S-C-E-N-D-E-N-C-E -I-S-I-L-L-U-S-I-O-N"
Alexis sensed bitterness as his hands spelled those words out from their movement on the lacquered board.
"I-H-A-V-E-W-A-T-C-H-E-D-Y-O-U-F-O-R-S-O-M-E-T-I-M-E-G-O-O-D-S-I-R-A-N-D-T-H-O-U-G-H-I-H-A-V-E-T-O-U-C-H-E-D-Y-O-U-I-N-Y-O-U-R-D-R-E-A-M-S-I-H-A-V-E-O-N-L-Y-S-O-U-G-H-T-T-O-T-O-U-C-H-Y-O-U-R-P-A-I-N"
"Why?" Alexis had to ask.
"E-V-E-N-P-A-I-N-I-S-S-W-E-E-T-T-O-T-H-O-S-E-T-H-A-T-C-A-N-N-O-T-F-E-E-L-B-U-T-Y-O-U-R-P-A-I-N-S-E-E-S-N-O-S-O-L-A-C-E-I-T-W-E-A-R-S-A-F-A-C-E-T-H-A-T-I-S-N-O-T-M-I-N-E-A-N-D-S-P-E-A-K-S-I-N-A-V-O-I-C-E-T-H-A-T-B-E-L-O-N-G-S-T-O-Y-O-U-R-H-E-A-R-T"
"I see," Alexis wasn't sure he wanted a spirit prying into his feelings about Maggie. As if reacting to his mood, the smoke in the circle began to waver.
"No, please!" Alex called out. "No, I didn't mean for you to go away. I just have mixed feelings about this. Please, please stay."
"I-A-M-S-O-S-O-R-R-Y-I-D-I-D-N-T-M-E-A-N-T-O-O-F-F-E-N-D-P-L-E-A-S-E-A-C-C-E-P-T-M-Y-M-O-S-T-S-I-N-C-E-R-E-A-P-O-L-O-G-I-E-S-A-N-D-S-A-Y-Y-O-U-W-I-L-L-F-O-R-G-I-V-E"
"Dear Serendipity," Alex assured her, "There is nothing to forgive. I am grateful to you for trying to help. And now, I must offer to help you in return. What can I do for you, my Lady?"
"K-I-N-D-S-I-R-I-B-E-L-I-E-V-E-O-U-R-C-U-R-R-E-N-T-Q-U-E-S-T-S-A-R-E-T-H-E-S-A-M-E-Y-O-U-S-E-E-K-T-O-S-T-O-P-T-H-E-S-O-U-L-S-L-A-Y-E-R-A-S-D-O-I-I-T-W-A-S-P-R-O-V-I-D-E-N-C-E-T-H-A-T-H-A-S-B-R-O-U-G-H-T-U-S-T-O-G-E-T-H-E-R"
"Perhaps," Alex nodded. "Serendipity, you know so much about me. I wish I knew more about you. Could you tell me your name, do you think?"
The smokey form in the circle remained vague and ill defined. No further movement came from the pointer.
"I am sorry," Alex apologized. "I only wanted to get to know you better. Please forget my question. It won't be repeated."
"B-E-F-O-R-E-W-H-E-N-T-H-E-R-E-W-A-S-L-I-F-E-I-W-A-S-C-A-L-L-E-D-A-N-I-T-A"
Alexis smiled. "Thank you Anita."
"I-M-U-S-T-G-O-N-O-W-D-E-A-R-S-I-R-B-U-T-I-T-H-A-N-K-Y-O-U-F-O-R-Y-O-U-R-K-I-N-D-A-T-T-E-N-T-I-O-N-S-O-N-M-Y-B-E-H-A-L-F-W-H-E-N-Y-O-U-H-A-V-E-C-O-N-T-R-I-V-E-D-A-P-L-A-N-T-O-S-T-O-P-T-H-E-R-E-A-V-E-R-P-L-E-A-S-E-L-E-T-M-E-K-N-O-W-H-O-W-E-V-E-R-I-M-A-Y-A-S-S-I-S-T-A-D-I-E-U-K-I-N-D-S-I-R"
"Goodbye Anita"
The smoke dissipated and a chill seemed to touch Alexis' hand. Then, except for Grandfather, he was truly alone.

Friday, June 2nd 10:47 a.m.

After the phone rang for the third time, Alexis picked it up. Though he tried to deny it, a good part of him waited anxiously, hoping it was Maggie's voice on the other end.
"Hello?" a voice queried tentatively.
"Excuse me," Alex cleared his throat. "Yes hello, this is Affery."
"Mr. Affery, this is Marsha Bentinck down at Shoreline Realty."
"Yes, Ms. Bentinck, thank you for returning my call."
"Well Mr. Affery, I was able to find the information you wanted. We keep histories of many of the older homes we've listed and it turns out it was lying right in our file. I'm not sure this is the same person you were inquiring about, but there was an Anita Farthingale who lived in your house around the turn of the century. She was the niece of the original builder, Broderick Farthingale. The Farthingales moved here originally from Long Island and Broderick made his money investing in the meat packing business, shipping beef and pork from out west to markets in the east and in San Francisco."
Alex flushed with embarrassment. It almost felt like prying.
"Was there anything remarkable about the Farthingales?" he asked, trying to keep his voice nonchalant.
Marsha Bentinck's own voice paused a bit before replying. "Well, I hadn't known this before, but Miss Farthingale was murdered. It happened at home."
"This home?" Alex asked, keeping his voice only mildly curious.
Again there was a pause. "Well, yes Mr Affery, but it happened some time ago."
"When?," he asked. He could hear a shuffling of papers on the other end.
"1903," Bentinck's voice began again. "Oh dear, she was stabbed to death. A jealous suitor who'd been rejected confessed to the crime only a few days later. She was to have been married that week. A terrible tragedy," Bentinck commented, "But so long ago, it's only lends a sort of pathos to the property don't you think?"
Alex didn't answer.
"Well, unless you believe in ghosts," Marsha seemed a little nervous Alex thought, "it shouldn't really mean anything."
Alex knew why she was nervous. Under California real estate law, she should have told him of any murder happening on the property he was interested in buying. Having not told him, though she had known it seemed, she was open to a law suit. He remained silent a while, letting her squirm for her unscrupulousness a while longer before replying.
"I was just curious, Ms. Bentinck. Really, I'm quite happy with the property."
There was an almost audible relief on the other end of the phone.
"Oh please, call me Marsha. Mr Affery, would you like me to drop the file by your house? Or I could fax it over to you?"
Though he was tempted, Alex felt a little guilty for having come even this far.
"No, that's alright, Ms. Bentinck um, Marsha. I've found out what I wanted to know. Thank you for your efforts." After farewell amenities he hung up.

Friday, June 2nd 10:22 p.m.

Alexis had discussed possible strategies with Grandfather the whole day, the Salamander softly overturning all of Alexis suggestions while offering none himself. It had been a most frustrating day and evening.
Weary with talk, Alexis was relieved when the phone rang. He excused himself from Grandfather and walked into the hall, listening to the answering machine pick up the call. Looking down at the hall table, he casually sifted through the catalogues and other assorted useless mail, noting with curiosity a large envelope with the Shoreline Realty logo embossed on it. Testing its weight, he found that it was quite heavy.
He was startled when Maggie's voice came on the speaker as she started to leave a message. Quickly, he picked up the phone.
"Mags?"
"Hello Alex," Maggie's voice was soft and cheerful. "It's nice to hear your voice. It's been a long time."
Alex nodded, though she couldn't see him. "Not so much to me, Mags. How are you?"
"I'm fine. I heard you were trying to get a hold of me. How are you?"
"I'm well. California is proving interesting. It's really beautiful out here. I wish you could see it."
"I've been," Maggie told him. There was a period of awkward silence.
"You know," Alex began, "I'm so glad you called. There's something I want to say to you."
"Alex?" Maggie cut him off. "Alex, I'm getting married."
"Are you? Well, good for you," Alex heard his voice say as though from someone else. It wasn't what he had intended to say.
"I don't know why I called," Maggie told him. "I guess I just wanted to let you know." There was another pause. "Will you be happy for me?"
"Only if you are," he answered. "Does he make you happy?" Alex felt the tears burning his eyes, though he tried to keep any hint of them from his voice.
"Yes, Alex. He makes me very happy," she assured him. "Are you alright?"
"Of course," he lied. "I'm so glad to hear your news. It makes it all seem right." He said this last just to say something. Nothing was making sense.
"I'd better go, Alex. It was so nice to hear your voice again. Remember me well, won't you?"
Alex wanted to say something about love and always, but instead he just said, "Be happy, Mags."
"Thanks Alex. Take care of yourself." Alex mumbled a goodbye and the phone clicked, sounding like the shears of the Norns as they cut off a thread of Alexis' life. Mindlessly, he put down the receiver, sobbing into his other hand.
Sensing his sorrow, Grandfather sent out tendrils of burning fire, bathing Alexis in their cleansing licks of spirit flame. Alexis hurt eased, if only for the moment, and sinking back into a horsehide chair, he saw once again the package from Shoreline Realty. Opening it, he saw that it was an antique photo of a young woman. The ornate frame was of silvered metal and though the photo had turned amber with time, he could still see the vibrant flush of youth that touched its fair haired model, her clear eyes gazing out at the photographer with sweet sensual joy, like a flower first greeting the morning sun.
A post it stuck to the back said "This was in the file. Thought you might like it for your walls, or for curiosity. Marsha."
Alex once again regarded the photo, thinking that whatever his pain was, at least he would go on. She, however, had lost everything. Alex, taking the photo back with him, went back to wrestle thoughts with Grandfather, shoving any consideration of Maggie into the dusty background of the past. He would go forward.

Friday, June 2nd 7:29 p.m.

Alex, who was having lunch, vaguely watched Grandfather bathing in a bed of ashes, sending up small fountains of sparks, some of which escaped the fireplace, burning small black marks into what had been an expensive carpet.
The sound of thunder roared into his room from outside. Had he been back in Massachusetts, he would have made nothing of the sound, but coming as it did under a near cloudless California summer sky, it did manage to capture his attention most abruptly. Grandfather had noted it also and had stopped his fire play, staring through the bricks toward the direction of the noise.
"That was close," Alex remarked. "Grandfather, do you know what it was?"
But Grandfather didn't answer. Going to the window, Alex could see several lightening bolts strike, all appearing to strike the same spot, which was a statistical improbability.
Magecraft, he thought. Possibly even a paradox surge.
The storm had already happened and was done so running to his card table, he quickly shuffled the cards and summoned forth his knowledge and powers of time to do the work for him.
What happened?
He drew the Son of Morning, the Emperor. Conflict - War? He pictured a contest involving two powers, one lesser, one greater.
Between whom?
The next card he drew was the Lord of the Winds and Breezes, the Knight of Swords. It meant that one of the persons was clever brave, fierce, skillful but dominating. In his mind, he saw a tall man, wielding a thick sword, his eyes burning with sad fury.
The next combatant was the Lord of Perfected Work, the Four of Wands. In his mind, he saw a swordsman, but lesser than the first.
The Lord of Illusionary Success, the Seven of Cups crossed the Knight. The Knight at the point of victory lost his fight but there was another element.
Queen of the Thrones of Flame. Water of Fire, the Queen of Wands had interceded and stolen the victory from the Knight - no, she had aided and the Knight was suborned by the man represented by the Four of Wands.
Final Outcome?
Child of the Great Transformers, Death
But it was more than loss here. Examining the positions of the cards he could see that the Four of Wands should cross the Knight of Swords. The Knight had died, but something of himself had transformed into - what?
The Lord of Victory, the Six of Wands.
Alex put down the deck and rubbed his hands, tired for what he saw. One thing he did remember though was the face of both the Lord of Perfected Work and that of the Queen of the Thrones of Flame. In fact, he was certain that he had seen her before, but he couldn't remember from where.

Friday, June 2nd, 11:57 p.m.

Alex tossed again in his bed. Unable to concentrate on the problem of the demon, he had tried to get some sleep. Despite how tired he was, though, he could not rest. His mind whirled between Maggie, the demon, Anita, what to do, what to say. He finally rolled out of bed and pulled his bathrobe about himself. When you can't think, Master Sandolphan used to say, let something else do the thinking for you. Alex took a pad of paper from the nightstand and retrieved the chewed stub of a pencil from underneath the bed. He trudged down to his sanctum and started in on some numerology.

Saturday, June 3rd, 12:32 a.m.

Cedar Street was where he had met the demon. C E D A R. 3, 5, 4, 1, 18. And the name of the street suggested that perhaps the name of the tree had also been important. Alex thought back. It had been an oak tree. O A K. 15, 1, 11. Enough to start with. Add that up, 58, 5
and 8 is 13, which is M. And 1 and 3 make 4, which is D. M D obviously signifies a doctor.
Now, the number of the house that the tree was in front of, that might have been significant. If, of course, Alex could remember the number of the house. Something to go look at. Alex went back to his bedroom to put on clothing more suitable for wandering the streets. On his way there, he mused about the doctor. Was this doctor the enemy, the one who had summoned the demon? He couldn't think that a Verbena would be an actual doctor, though. Perhaps this doctor, then, was a person who Alex could enlist as an ally. On his way out the door, Alex grabbed a handful of chocolate coated expresso beans.
Corssing the street, Alex noticed the young lady who lived in the Queen Anne reading by a window. He rembered her brushing her hair as he had come home after meeting the demon. There are no coincidences.
Q U E E N A N N E is 17, 21, 5, 5, 14, 1, 14, 14, 5. Which makes 96. Nine and six make 15, which is O. 96 is also next year, which made Alex think of the year, and the month of this year is June, which is to say the sixth month. F. And it is six months until 96, which is six again, another F. The two most common letters in that were N, 14, and E, 5, both of which become 5, which is E. And nine and six differ by three, so it is logical to look at 963, which adds to 18 which is R.
OFFER. Offer what? Alex turned out his pockets, perhaps there was something in them which he could offer to her. He found only two dimes. Twenty cents. Which, of course, could also be read as T. Offer tea. Well, perhaps tomorrow. It would certainly be rude to knock on the door at this hour.

Saturday, June 3rd, 12:50 a.m.

Alex stood underneath the tree, now thankfully devoid of demonic presences, and squinted through the dark at the number of the nearest house. 250. That could be Y, or maybe G. Or perhaps P, if one divided and took the remainder. Hm. Maybe all three. PYG. Pig? Put that with MD and you have a pig doctor. Maybe a vet? That seemed too silly, but worth checking up on. Perhaps something named the pig?

Saturday, June 3rd, 2:34 a.m.

Alex had been through the phone listings. There were far too many veterenarians in the area to even consider looking into. Perhaps tomorrow, though, he would call a few to check if they treated livestock. That couldn't be a common practice, perhaps there were only a few that he would have to investigate. There was also a bar that went by the name of the Pig and Whistle. Sounded like sort of a pub. Worth checking out tomorrow evening. Now, it was time for sleep. Hopefully.
Alex climbed upstairs and fell into bed, exhausted enough to fall asleep without thinking of Maggie for more that half an hour.

Saturday, June 3rd, 1:02 p.m.

Alex blinked himself awake. What was wrong? Something was amiss, but he could not place his finger on it. Perhaps it was just a dream. That was it. He hadn't dreamed at all and he had been asleep for more than ten hours. Incredible. Alex leaned over the edge of the bed, looking for his slippers-
-And looked down into a pit of hell. Tongues of fire leapt up and ignited the bed, as the walls of the room fell away, revealing the flaming apocalypse beyond. Alex screamed as his body burst into flame, feeling his hair crackle away from his skull, his skin begin to melt-
Alex jerked abruptly awake with a shout. Then, he peered carefully over the side of the bed at his slippers, resting on distictly non-flaming floor. He gingerly slipped his feet into the slippers, and then trudged into the shower, where the hot water scalded him a bit before he could turn it down.
After a shower, some coffee, and a roll, Alex felt more ready to face the day. Such as was left of it. He put on a pot of tea, got out some cookies, and went out the front door. Grandfather Salamander was nowhere to be found. Perhaps he was taking a trip to a foundry, or frolicking in a bonfire somewhere. Alex knocked on the door of the Queen Anne. Hopefully she would be home, and he could ask her for some tea. An excuse, he needed an excuse. Well, since he was the new neighbor, wasn't that excuse enough? And he could ask her about her house. And this evening, he could go to the pig and whistle for dinner, and see what transpired. Alex decided to knock on the door again, and then wait to see what would transpire.

Saturday, June 3rd, 1995 2:01 p.m.

Alex walked up to the Queen Anne but when he tried the wrought iron gate leading to the front door, he found that it didn't open. Searching, he found an electric button and pushed it. Alex could see a young well dressed man, trim and blond, appear at the front door. He came out and walking down the marble steps, came up to Alex at the gate.
"May I help you?" he asked, looking up and down at Alex.
"Hi, I'm your new neighbor," Alex smiled. "My name is Alex Affery."
The young man nodded but neither smiled nor made any other movement. Certainly, he made no effort to open the gate.
In case the young man didn't understand, Alex pointed to his own house nearly across the street and said, "I bought the Farthingale House. I was just thinking of meeting my neighbors."
"Do you have a card, sir?" the young man asked.
Alex looked at him and then fishing around his shirt pocket for a piece of paper, came up blank. He thought of creating one, but then it would have been a poor risk for potential paradox, just to gain some paper.
"I'm sorry, I don't have one with me," he said. Actually, he had never had any made.
"That's all right, Mister Affery," the young man at last smiled. "I will tell Mister Crown that you called. No doubt he will want to have you over some evening."
"Then, you're not the owner?" Alexis asked.
Shaking his head, the young man went on, "No sir, my name is Mark. I am a servant here." Mark paused but when Alex didn't say anything, he added, "Will there be anything else, sir?"
"No, that's fine," Alex said. He seemed distracted, as if thinking. "Is Mister Crown at home, right now?"
"No sir, he's engaged in business. He'll be home later."
Alex rubbed his chin and then, looking up at one of the widows in the tower portion of the front of the house, asked, "Tell me, who lives in that room there?"
Mark looked up to see where Alex pointed. He seemed surprised. "No one lives there, sir. Why do you ask?"
"Just last night, I saw someone brushing her hair in the window of that room."
"Probably Miss Forester, sir," Mark added. "She's staying here as a guest." Alex didn't know for sure, but he guessed that the servant was lying.
"Ah, that was probably it," Alex nodded. "Thank you."
Walking on, Alex peeked through the gate and observed two vehicles parked in the driveway. One was a Range Rover. Behind that was a Silver Cloud Rolls Royce. Looking back before he crossed 3rd Street, Alexis saw that Mark was still watching him.

Saturday, June 3rd 5:57 p.m.

Alexis turned over the first card. Prince of the Chariots of the Winds, Airy part of Air - the King of Swords. This was Crown, but as Alexis drew it, it came out inverted, meaning he was dealing with someone that was malicious, plotting, unreliable and sadistic. Alex raised an eyebrow.
The next card would represent the woman he had seen in the window. Queen of the Thrones of Earth, Watery Part of Earth - the Queen of Pentacles. But this too was upside down, meaning that she was undecided, capricious, changeable, possibly insane.
Needing elaboration, Alexis drew another two cards, laying one over each figure. He turned over first Crown's, then the woman's, identified by Mark as Diane Forester. Both were fire cards.
Crown's was the Lord of Established Strength, the Three of Wands, but again inverted, meaning conceit, rudeness, insolence, obstinacy, treachery. Her's was the Lord of Dominion, the Two of Wands, but again inverted, meaning turbulence, withdrawal, sadness, and trouble.
Alexis paused. All the cards were inverted which normally would mean that he had erred and should turn them all over. Doing so would mean that Crown, though still treacherous, was a man more interested in power and wealth. She would be thoughtful, and a bit on the wild side, restless and fierce. Alex started to turn them over, but then he let them lay. After all, he though, the world seems to be upside down now, why shouldn't the cards be as well. For some reason, it seemed to him that the the cards, righted spoke more of the past whereas, inverted, contrary and unnatural, they spoke more truth of the way it was now.
For one last card, he decided to see if the servant, Mark, had been telling the truth when he said the woman Alexis had seen was named Diane Forester.
Lord of Strife - Five of Wands, and of course, it was again inverted. The servant had been lying.
There was a shuffling over at the Ouija board. Alex looked over and saw the pointer shake somewhat.
"Hello Anita," Alexis smiled as he placed his hands on the pointer.
H-E-L-L-O-A-L-E-X
"How are you today?"
I-A-M-F-I-N-E-T-H-A-N-K-Y-O-U There was a pause and then the pointer started to move again. M-A-Y-I-H-E-L-P-Y-O-U
Alexis looked back over at his cards. "I was just trying to find out more about the woman over at the Crown estate. I saw her last night. I wanted to find out more about her."
W-H-Y
Alexis chuckled. Coming so promptly as it did, the question seemed amusing. Alexis wondered why Anita seemed so curious about his investigation.
"Oh, I don't know," he answered.
Y-O-U-A-R-E-T-R-Y-I-N-G-T-O-F-O-R-G-E-T-T-H-E-P-A-I-N-O-F-Y-O-U-R-H-E-A-R-T-I-N-T-H-I-S-P-U-R-S-U-I-T-Y-O-U-S-E-E-K-D-I-S-T-R-A-C-T-I-O-N
"Perhaps," he nodded soberly.
H-E-R-N-A-M-E-I-S-A-G-L-A-I-A
"What? How could you know that?" Alexis asked.
S-H-E-W-A-S-M-Y-B-E-S-T-F-R-I-E-N-D
"But no more?" Alexis asked, wondering how the young lady had become friends with a ghost.
S-H-E-L-I-V-E-S-I-N-A-D-I-F-F-E-R-E-N-T-W-O-R-L-D
"As do I," Alexis pointed out.
N-O-D-I-F-F-E-R-E-N-T
Alexis paused, thinking about the double meaning of this last.
"Well, I'd be curious to meet her," Alexis said.
The pointer moved quickly
N-O-Y-O-U-M-U-S-T-N-O-T-S-H-E-I-S-D-A-N-G-E-R-O-U-S
"How?"
Y-O-U-R-I-S-K-Y-O-U-R-S-O-U-L
As the sobering words spelled themselves out, Alexis removed his hands from the pointer. The pointer then moved by itself.
S-O-M-E-O-N-E-C-O-M-E-S
The pointer flew off of the board and landed onto the thick pile of the Oriental carpet on the floor.
"Wait! Who's coming? Grandfather?" Alexis turned to the fire elemental but the Salamander was busy burying itself in the ashes of the fire. The doorbell rank melodiously.
Sighing, Alex steeled himself and walked briskly to the door. Outside, a young man with red hair, very freckled, waited patiently at the door, looking around. As Alexis opened the door, he turned and smiled.
"Could I speak to the master of the house, please?"
"That's me," Alexis told him, observing that he seemed very neat and well groomed, much as had Crown's servant.
"Greeting sir," the young man nodded formally. He reached into his pocket and brought out a card which he handed to Alex. Smiling, he nodded again and walked briskly back down the path, turning right as he came to the sidewalk. He then proceeded to walk down 3rd Street until he was out of sight, his white walled saddle shoes clicking smartly on the concrete.
Alexis looked at the card. It was a business card for a Reverend Alana Joy, of the Unity Temple. There was no telephone number but there was an address on Seabright. Turning the writing over, he saw written in immaculately neat and stylish writing, "Would like to meet you."
Unity Temple, Alexis thought. It sounded like the Celestial Chorus. He had heard that they claimed Santa Cruz as their own demesne.
The Chorus, Alexis sighed. Well, he would have to face them sometime.

Saturday, June 3rd 7:06 p.m.

Unity Temple turned out to be an elegant and simple building, typical of church construction of the first half of the century. It was mostly brick and glass, and though not large, had given over a fourth of it's land to a garden which sat luxuriously on the corner of Seabright and Broadway. Across the street, an elementary school, closed for the summer, sat empty and silent.
Smiling, earthy and radiant people milled in and out of the building. The temple professed to be an alternate religion, combining aspects of all philosophies. Alexis realized how sheltered Santa Cruz truly was for the Chorus to advertise themselves so strongly.
Entering into the main entrance way, he heard sonorous chanting coming out of the chapel. A woman, who seemed very young despite the touches of grey throughout her hair, smiled warmly at him as if he were a close friend whom she was greeting on the street.
"Hello, Mister Affery. The Reverend is waiting for you. Will you follow me please?"
Alex followed her into the chapel and then through a side door. Several people, an eclectic mix of businessmen, homeless, tradesmen and housewives, were chanting what sounded like Buddhist mantras.
Walking up some stairs into what Alexis supposed was the bell tower, he was brought into a room, mostly white with southwestern decor and a few small windows. A brightly woven Navajo rug adorned the otherwise barren dark stained oak floor.
Seated at the desk, really just a table made of the same material as the floor, was a small slender woman, also young in the face, though her blond crew cut made her seem oddly older. When she looked up at him, Alexis froze as if shocked by electricity. Her intensely bright blue eyes seemed to look not only at him, but through him, seeing what no eyes should see.
"Thank you for coming," she smiled, indicating to Alex that he should sit in the plush dark leather chair situated in front of her table. Alex did sit, allowing his hand to run over the tarnished brass rivets on the chair's side.
"I didn't suppose I had a choice," Alex replied. "Did I?"
"Of course you did." The Reverend's voice, though soft, seemed to project itself well, filling the room so that Alex's voice seemed quiet and meek by comparison. "We in the Chorus don't force others to our way or to do our bidding. We just rely on internal wisdom, aided by our guidance, to see the worthy on their way."
Alex ignored the bait of rhetoric. He did however comment that, "There was a time that would have made a lie out of that statement."
"But that time is past," Reverend Joy said smiling. "We have all learned our errors and certainly, today at least, we two can be friends. It's not like you're staring at a Progenitor, you know."
Alex nodded.
"Would you like a drink?" the Reverend asked. Alex had thought to say no, but somehow, he felt compelled to accept. It was just water and it tasted sweet.
"How did you find me?" Alex asked.
The Reverend folded her hands. "Our visions have been focused of late, to what our wayward brothers and sisters have been doing in the mountains. In doing so, we found you."
"The Verbenna?"
The Reverend nodded. "Yes, the Verbenna. Do you actually know what has transpired there?"
"Yes, they've summoned a Paradox spirit to do their bidding. A demon."
"Yes," Joy nodded, "a demon. One such as the forebears of your order might have summoned once in the Mythic Age. I don't suppose you happen to be an expert in that sort of thing?"
"Hardly my bent," Alexis replied testily.
"What do you do then?" she asked, "Numerology? Rhadomanthy? Tarot Cards?"
Alexis shifted uneasily.
"Tarot cards then, and maybe more. So what card did your deck choose for me?"
"The High Priestess," Alexis told her.
She chuckled. "Your cards aren't very original. What else did they say."
"Not much," Alexis admitted. "They said you were driven, a bit of a crusader, maybe a bit fanatic."
The Reverend didn't reply, but continued to smile at him, her hands folded while her eyes burned brightly at him.
"We haven't had one of the Order take up residence here since the 1870's. There was a bit of a misunderstanding back then, but that's when the Chorus became dominant here in Santa Cruz."
"You mean there was an Ascension War and the Celestial Chorus destroyed or drove out those of my Order, who were probably your greatest threat at that time."
"Good," she nodded. "Very good. Which skill are you using now?"
"Just logic," he replied.
"Well, that as I've said about other things, is in the past. We all know who the enemy is. There's just the problem about method."
"The Demon," Alexis said. "What do you intend to do?"
"Well, openly the Verbenna deny any such summoning. My contacts with those of their order maintain that their leaders feel this is the only way to take the War back to the Technocracy. They feel that the werewolves, who have always been the power here, are starting to crumble and that they need drastic help."
"That's madness. Help is one thing, but they've summoned something that can kill us all."
"Agreed," Reverend Joy nodded her head while her eyes looked downward. "I'm thinking of summoning a council of Magi. It would be the first in Santa Cruz in over a hundred years. Obviously, the Verbenna will not attend. I'd like to hear what you have to say about the matter."

Saturday, June 3rd, 7:30 p.m.

Alex opened his mouth to reply curtly, then shut it again. If there was one thing that he had learned in his schooling, it was a sense of good manners. A moment to phrase things better was in order.
"I think that... you are very confident in yourself to call
such a meeting." Reverend Joy raised one immaculate eyebrow. Alex carefully continued. "To bring everyone together exposes yourself - and everyone else - to two kinds of trouble."
"Which are?" The Reverend obviously was not used to having her ideas criticized, however politely. That's the problem you have when you're the will of God, thought Alex, and permitted himself the smallest of smiles.
"First, if anyone is waiting for a time to strike, then one accident could win them a clear playing field."
The Reverend dismissed that arguement with a wave of the hand. "We are more than capable of securing ourselves."
This time her arrogance was a little too much for Alex.
"You are? And what if one of your helpers has perhaps a little too much, how shall we put it, sympathy for the devil? Do you trust everyone here with your life?"
The Reverend was about to speak, but Alex cut her off.
"Well, you may, but I and others will not have the luxury of long aquaintance. And there is another reason why it is not the most prudent of ideas to gather us together."
Reverend Joy waited, unwilling to say something lest Alex cut in over her again. Alexis continued: "If there is a conference, and the Verbena are excluded, then if they do hear about it, well, the game is up, is it not?"
She nodded reluctantly. "It seems that politics is still taught to the Order. Was Machiavelli required reading?"
Alex again was about to say something, but stopped as a new idea entered his head. "There is... a slower but safer way. Now that you know who I am, there is no harm in my meeting with you. And if others were also to meet with you, or in ones and twos by themselves... there would never be one large and obvious conclave."
Alex paused, and readied his most persuasive tones. "And if you would be willing to act as a coordinator for that...you are certainly the obvious choice to make this arrangement."
The Reverend was caught off guard by the sudden turn in Alex's logic. "I... I will think about that. Perhaps there is some value in what you say. Schemeing has never been the strongest point of our Tradition."
Implying of course that schemeing is a strong point for mine, thought Alex. She doesn't miss a cut, does she.
"If there is nothing else, Reverend, I will take my leave now." Damned if I'm going to ask her for anything.
She nooded, still a bit distracted. "Yes. I will be contacting you soon. I hope that if it is decided that a council is in order that you will be able to trust enough to come. Your keen logic would be most helpful, I am sure."
"Good evening, then."
"Bless you."

Saturday, June 3rd, 8:23 p.m.

Diane Forester, or Aglaia, or whatever her name actually was, again brushed her hair in the window as Alex walked up to his house. Alex lingered for a moment, watching her, before reminding himself of Anita's warning. Perhaps this one was the one who sent his soul to hell... A sudden warmth came over Alex, but it was not a pleasant one.
Inside, he continued to consider his mysterious neighbors. He'd only ever seen the woman at night... and Crown himself, never. Only that surly servant, Mark. The place was certainly well secured.
It would be worth taking note, seeing if they did ever come out by day. Perhaps this was an opportunity for a bit of nature study, as it were. Although it certainly wouldn't do to have the wildlife find out that he was suspicious.
Alex walked into the study and sat down at his desk. Time to lay everything out before him, consider what needed to be done, look for connections. He picked out a large sheet of white drawing paper and a charcoal pencil. He closed his eyes and placed his hand on the paper.
First, here. Himself, Grandfather Salamander, and now Anita. Why is it that I don't have any friends who are alive, thought Alex. And Maggie... she's still here, in a way. Next door, Mr. Crown and Ms. Forester, and their surly servant. I don't even have any normal neighbors, he thought.
He pushed the pencil farther up the page. Further afield, we have the demon, and the Verbena, and the werewolves. They must have some place of power too, or they wouldn't still be here. And the technocracy, what are they up to in the area? Connected to all of them, we have Unity Temple and Reverend Joy.
And that lightning strike, the people fighting... what had that been about?
Alex opened his eyes and stared at the page. "What an excellent impression of a plate of spaghetti," he said, annoyed. "Well, perhaps it will look better in the morning"
<OOC note: unless intuition gives anything from this drawing, it won't tell Alex anything. It certainly isn't magic on any concious level.>
Alex left the room, and restarted the big fire from the brazier. Grandfather Salamander soon appeared, chewing in his toothless way on coal.
"Grandfather. I feel swept along. Things are transpiring... but I'm not sure which I should pursue, and which to leave. There have never been so many things before."

Sunday, June 4th, 1995 2:05 a.m.

"You want to to drop you off HERE!" the cabbie had asked him.
Alexis had flipped him a hundred dollar bill, just to shut the man up. That had been over eight hours ago. Right now, he would have given the cabbie another hundred, just to hear the man's annoying voice again. Damn me for asking a Fire Spirit for advice, Alexis said. He'd asked Grandfather Salamander for direction and Grandfather had suggested that pursuing the demon that he'd seen earlier was the most important thing to do. Like a fool, he'd come and now, four hours after being dropped off on an obscure corner of Hopkins Gulch Road, he'd wandered into the hills, deep in werewolf country, trying to sniff out a Verbenna node. He only hoped that the cabbie would keep his promise and return the next morning. In fact, he hoped that he would alive and be there to greet the obnoxious sleeper.
Alexis thought his heart would stop every time a branch broke. His face was scratched, his ankle hurt where he'd twisted it, and he was hungry - never mind thirst! Miserable wouldn't have come close. Still, the information he'd weaseled out of the store owner in Boulder Creek was too good to just pass it over. He'd come here on a hunch that that news story about the missing hikers had something to do with the recent events in the mountains. The strange tale told to him by the store owner seemed to have confirmed this. So, having been dropped off by the cab in a turnout, Alexis had wound his way into the woods, near to where the store owner had said the couple had been last sighted.
Then he waited. And waited. And waited. Of course, he'd tried his cards when there was light, but the day had gone long ago and night had been with him, he thought, forever. About midnight, he heard a cry and following it, and subsequent cries that he'd heard, he ventured forth, his eyes trying to make use of whatever light the thin band of moon offered him.
This is madness, he thought, looking above him at the moon. If there are werewolves here, I'm dog meat. He'd heard rumours that the werewolves of the Santa Cruz mountains had no love for magi. Though what origins there were for any feud escaped Alexis. Having followed the intermittent wailing and the occasional screams and such, Alexis, his skin crawling with fear, forced himself to crawl onward.
Alexis knew he was getting close when he found the first body. Fortunately, it wasn't human. It was probably a dead opossum, or raccoon. Dried and wrapped in hemp rope and herbs, which still didn't cover it's subtle stench, the animal corpse was hung from a large oak. Looking above him, Alexis saw other such bundles, hundreds of them, hanging down from the great tree. The smell of death was so thick in the air that Alexis thought he could taste it in every breath and with every breath, he longed to be away from the evil place. He had to stop and think he realized.
What am I doing here? was the first thought to surface. It was a hard question to answer. And there was really no justification for this adventure of his. He was tired. The soft cool ground beckoned him. Surely a little nap couldn't hurt.
Alexis, his head swooning in the thick air, fought to control himself. His hand grabbed down at the dirt beneath him and balled a clump of it's moist blackness into a ball. He concentrated on it, feeling it's coldness, focusing, trying to bring his mind back to where he was at this point in time. Using this tactile bit of reality like an anchor, he sought to reel his thoughts back from the place they were drifting towards. His fist clenched so hard that he could feel the pine needles in the dirt stabbing and poking his palm and fingers. The pain helped him to focus and bring him back.
What was that? Alexis took several deep breaths. Somehow, he'd stumbled into some sort of mental ward, enchantment, static rote, that the Verbenna had placed to help guard their node. Through luck and strength of will, he'd passed it. Feeling the pain in his hand, he looked down to see that the things poking and piercing his hand weren't pine needles after all. The dirt was saturated with small bones and shattered bits of larger ones. His hand bled from many places and his blood trickled down onto the dirt and disappeared. This place had a hunger.
There was another wail. Alexis saw a distant glow and felt a strange chill. Forestalling caution, he crept forward at a faster place. Several impossibly large oaks grew in this place, seeming to be more gargantuan as he crept toward the glow. The bundles hanging from the branches grew more ominous and Alexis thought he could see skulls and withered heads among the collections of stuffed birds and snakes, but he didn't look too closely, not really wanting to see. A strange mix of coldness and light began to bathe him, so he ducked behind one of the trees, hoping not to be seen. Looking out, he espied a great fire, around which danced several figures clothed in white robes. They looked like later day druids and perhaps they were, as Alexis could not recognize the language they were speaking. On the far side of the fire, through which as it flickered, Alexis could only catch brief glimpses of what looked like a block of stone with someone lying on it. It was mottled with dark stains, as if a thick syrup had been poured down its side. In the moonlight, these stains appeared black. He could see that the stone or alter, whatever it was, was slightly tipped so that the dark stains seemed to flow toward the base of the fire. As his eyes accustomed to the light, he could see that the person lying on the stone was naked, except for silvery runes and symbols painted upon her pale white skin. Alexis knew she was dead.
Something stirred within the fire. Within the fire! Looking at the cold blaze, which chilled rather than warmed him, he saw a humanoid figure, obscured by the blaze, bathing itself in liquid. It was as if breath itself had left him. The coldness seemed to emanate from the being in the fire, sucking all life, all heat, all substance into it. Alexis began to feel like his own life was withering, shriveling in a cold fury, as if a winter storm were sucking him dry. Shivering, he ducked behind the massive trunk of the tree he had been using for cover. There was a great power in these trees and they seemed to shelter him from whatever was in the fire. Collecting his wits and courage, and trying to decide on his next coarse of action, Alexis rested uncomfortably on the rather bumpy surface of the oak. Wiping cold sweat from his forehead, he put his hand down and felt something cold and thick that he was sitting on. He couldn't see it in the darkness so he felt it as best as he could. It was a hand, swollen with putrescence. It belonged to a body that seemed to be buried at the foot of the very oak in which he was sitting. Taking in a breath, Alexis crawled back around the oak, stealing just enough cold light to make out some of the features of the tree. At first it looked just like lumps of bark, but then Alexis started to make out the features, a nose here, an eye there, a mouth caught as if in a scream. Face upon face was covered in bark, and impossibly captured like some perversion of nature. Alexis' heart thumped a mile per minute as he bowed his head into hands, wondering what to do next.

Sunday, June 4th, 1995, 2:37 AM

Alex pulled his head from his hands and stared at the unspeakable tree. Could these be the faces of those killed for dark magic? Or something even more perverse? Now, unfortunately, was not the time to attempt anything to free them. What if they became hostile? And what if it... noticed?
Alex peered around the tree again at the figure in the fire. It must be the demon. What human would bathe in flames? Alex shivered again, and crept away, back through the trees. This place needed to be scourged, its tortures and hurts wiped out. Alex did not have the power to do this himself, but he knew one place he could go to look for them.

Sunday, June 4th, 5:46 PM

Alexis awoke screaming. In his dreams, the faces of the tree had been calling him, calling him, until he joined with them, and was trapped within the tree for eternity, while sacrifices bled onto his roots. On the bedside table, the pen shook on its pad of paper. Alex took it, and let himself relax.
"Alex," wrote the pen, "are you all right?"
"I'm fine, Anita. I just, well, had another nightmare.. but it was different."
"Different?"
"Well, it wasn't the usual... that's almost more shocking than its content."
"smile"
Alex smiled too, and let go of the pen. He felt somewhat rested - not enough, but he had to get moving. Every day could mean another cruel sacrifice, another face bound into the tree. He grabbed a handful of expresso beans from his jar and ate them to clear his head.

Sunday, June 4th, 7:05 PM

Alex walked briskly into Unity Temple and greeted the attendant in the entrance way politely.
"If it is possible, I would like to speek to the Reverend Joy. A matter of some urgency has arisen, and I think she might wish to speak to me."
The attendant seemed doubtful for a moment.
"Please. I promise I will not take up more than a moment of her time if she does not deem my new important."
The attendant nodded, impressed with Alex's sincerity. "Come this way, and I will see what I can do for you."

Sunday June 4th, 1995 7:14 p.m.

A service of some sort seemed to be ongoing when Alexis had arrived. He caught a whiff of burning incense, a good deal of it, judging by the strength of its scent in the air. Once again, Alexis was led up the stairway into the Reverend's office. The sonorous chanting could be heard, or was it felt, as a deep sonic pulse that seemed to electrify the air. Alexis wasn't kept waiting long as the Reverend soon appeared.
"Mister Affery," she said, her voice affecting a pleasant tone of surprise. She sat down at her desk, her hands folded softly as she turned the full force of her focus on Alexis. "You seem rather" She didn't finish. Rather she smiled and took a deep breath. "Tell me, what brings your visit this evening? I sense there is something you need to say."
"Reverend. I'm appealing to you for help in a matter which I think concerns us both." The Reverend raised an eyebrow, but said nothing.
"The demon which we spoke of, that the Verbena have summoned: I believe I saw it again. And more: human sacrifice, twisted trees with screaming faces... out in the mountains. I wanted to do something about the abomination, but my force alone is not enough. I thought perhaps you might be able to muster more."
The Reverend's placid smile vanished, a look of serious sadness in its place. If anything, Alexis thought, her eyes grew brighter, fiercer, like she was ready to call for a crusade or something. When she next spoke, it was with the same irritatingly calm soothing voice that Alexis had always heard from her, but he didn't doubt nonetheless that he'd touched a chord of fear and anger inside her.
"I doubt, Mister Affery, that the strength of any one of us is enough to meet this new threat. I have decided to call the council I mentioned earlier. It will meet tomorrow night at midnight. Though I've sent out summons to representative magi of all the Traditions that are known to have settled in these environs, I have no way of telling who will actually come. I have reflected on what you said before and have decided to invite the Verbena to defend their actions. No doubt, they will hear of the council in any case and if they are presented with a united front, then perhaps they can be dissuaded. And of course, I have decided to not invite the orphan chattel as their unorganized antics could only serve to distract the proceedings. And for all we know, they might even be attracted to the rash course that the Verbena have chosen."
Alex frowned slightly at the last, but said nothing to disagree. "A few days ago I was not in favor of such a gathering. But what I have seen... I cannot help but think that it is a mistake to invite the Verbena, that they are too far gone down a dark path. But, it will probably not hurt too much to speak with them." Alex paused, then: "If you will have me, I would be honored to attend."
Reverend Joy nodded, and Alex continued on in a different vein. "I was not aware that there were many orphans in the area. Would I be wise to take steps to protect myself against them? Are there any I should be particularly wary of I am not as strong as yourself: they might pose me a threat."
"They don't seem to bother much with the other Traditions. I have heard that there are those of the Cult of Ecstasy who will associate with them, but certainly we never have, except to try to bring them back to the fold. Those of the orphans who cling together, forming a rabble of sort, congregate at a place called Klub Kulture, down on Front Street. However, it is not a place I would recommend, for music or company."
Reverend Joy got up, once again her smile masquing the seriousness of her meeting with Alexis. "If there is nothing else then, I will return to my service." She extended her hand. "Mister Affery, I will see you tomorrow, at midnight."
Alex nodded. "I will most certainly look forward to it."

Sunday, June 4th, 1995, 7:20 PM

He shook her hand, and went back out into the night. Klub Kulture... that seemed like perhaps a place to visit. While the Reverend Joy might not think that the Orphans deserved to be called in, they certainly deserved at least a warning. After walking about a block from the church, Alex called a cab and headed for Klub Kulture.

Sunday June 4th, 1995 7:32 p.m.

"Here ya go," the cabbie said, dropping Alex off on Front Street. He stared at the powder blue facade whose center sign board said, Klub Kulture. Underneath it said, Tuesday - the Flagellate Monks. Interesting place, Alexis thought, being silently factitious. One of the two front windows was covered with plywood. The other one was painted black. A recessed door was shut, its glass also painted black. Trying it, Alexis discovered that it was locked. Listening, he could hear soft mumbled voices talking inside, so he knocked. There was no answer, but the voices grew quieter. He knocked again.
The door opened. A spiked, and studded face with green hair poked out.
"HEY FUCKHEAD DOUCHEBAG! WE'RE CLOSED!" he screamed. The door slammed so hard, that for a moment, Alexis thought the quivering glass would shatter in his face.

(What you do know about the Unity Temple is that a Christian church has occupied the sight since about 1860. The current building still retains the Church trappings of a cut in cross on the stone three story tower. About a fourth of the actual church grounds, not counting the dormitories, is given over to a small but colourful garden which occupies the corner of the lot closest to the intersection. The actual occupying church bills itself as an alternate religion and is said to incorporate philosophies and tenets of all major religions and philosophies - not only Christianity, Judaism and Islam, but Hinduism, Janism, Hinayana and Marayana Buddhism, Confucism, Animistic beliefs of Native Americans, Africa the Caribbean and Japan, as well as the tenets of the great Western philosophers.
Services are held daily and some worshippers seem to actually live on the site, in the dormitory and office building behind the actual temple. Acolytes wear robes varying from white to those made of elaborate Bali cloth. Incense continually burns while gongs sound and sonorous voices chant monotone yet captivating mantras. The priest in residence at Unity Temple, is Reverend Alana Joy.)

Tuesday June 6th, 1995 12:03 a.m.

One by one, everyone was led into the room, whose borders were cramped by the large polished stone table that occupied its center. Thirteen chairs had been placed around the table, built of the same heavy red granite that the table itself was made of. The Reverend lifted her hands and the sounds of a series of chimes seemed to dance in the air, as if touched by wind. There was no wind however, only a still calm that serenely dulled the senses, beckoning those that sat at the table to gaze inward at the stone swirls. Blood red flowed over and through white of crystaline purity, touched here and there by bits of clear quartz.
Until they had finished assembling, the "guests" mostly occupied themselves by looking around the room, at the austere decorations, and at each other - mostly the latter. Ten men and women assembled in the room, not counting the Chorus acolytes who left as soon as their business was finished.
The room they were in was in the second story of the tower at Unity Temple. There was obviously a room above them as well, but few at the gathering could speculate what might be in such a room. Outside, traffic at the corner of Seabright and Broadway sped by, oblivious to the weight of discussion and power assembling in the quaint little building, once a modest stone church. Behind the small but colourful garden, the L-shaped building had given way to a series of chambers and halls, built of cool seamless stone, where burning incense and the new-age air of sonorous chanting and mantras crowded out thought until one felt the pull of joining in the chant, becoming one with everyone around them.
Since they were all expected, white robed acolytes led them as they arrived to the Tribunal Chamber, which by local reckoning in a history largely unknown, had gone unused for over a hundred years. Once seated, they were given clear water, served in simple wooden mugs, or hot green tea, as they preferred. For food, arriving magi were handed lacquered wooden bowls, whose dark brown lacquered interiors were filled with pieces of fresh baked flour tortillas.
"Now, following the custom of the last Tribunal held in this room, more than a century ago, we shall be seated in order. I ask you not to take umbrage at the course of this seating. We do not need any further arguments than shall be posed this night." The Reverend Alana Joy was a small, slender woman with electric blue eyes that seemed to pierce whoever she was looking at. Though she looked incredibly youthful, her snow white hair made her seem older but what her age could have actually been was anyone's guess.
"Dreamspeaker," the Reverend said, smiling and opening her hand toward the table, to indicate that someone should sit down.
The first to sit down at the Reverend's gesture was a young woman who had been ignoring all others, content instead to gaze into the tabletop. Her dress was made of what looked like a coarse cotton weave, cunningly dyed in enchanting patterns of black, brown and green that hugged her curvaceous figure. The woman's hair and skin were brown and her eyes, when they regarded them all, were a dusky green, large and softly stunning. The woman's race was indeterminate, and perhaps she was a melding of different peoples.
"I am Waahia," she told them. Waahia was a Speaker.
"Euthanatos," Reverend Joy whispered, the smile leaving her face.
A blond man dressed in a nondescript sport coat moved forward with cat-like ease and fluidity and sat down next to Waahia. His brown eyes squinted and regarded all of them as he looked around. He looked lean and dangerous, like a wild animal.
"Igor Stepanovich," was all he said. He looked cross for a moment as if, even in that brief statement, he had said more than he had intended.
"Cult of Ecstasy."
The next to sit down was a member of the Cult. He wore tan slacks and a blue Hawaiian patterned shirt, while thick gold chains lay draped around his neck. His arms were hairy, tanned and obviously muscular while his dark eyes seemed to be bright with mirth and cheerfulness. A mischievous grin spread across his face as he spoke, as if he were always tempting them all to leave the room and go outside to play.
"I am Montana Haul," he said, "And I am very pleased to meet you all."
"Verbena."
Two people, a man and woman emerged from the back of the room to sit down. Though they sat next to each other, the Verbs took pains to keep at least a chair's distance between themselves and the Cultist.
The woman was remarkably tall. She had a strong nose and deep blue eyes that seemed sleepy, like a deep pool of water. Her hair was wavy and fell naturally onto her shoulders and she offered them all a smile that seemed if nothing, very sad. Dressed in a simple dress and grey knit top, she sat down with effortless elegance.
"Bessie Moisha," she said.
The man was even taller, but slender with long fine blond hair. Though he wore a suit and tie, his arms when revealed as he took off his jacket were broadly muscular and covered with swirling blue tattoos. He stroked his long blond hair behind him, a grin on his face that could be read as either warm or an invitation to battle. Imposing in his height, he sat down next to Bessie, smirking at all of them."
"Gert Severin," he said.
"Order of Hermes."
"My name is Alexis Affery," the young man nodded as he sat down near but not next to the Verbena. The Herm was as tall as the Euthanatos but somewhat more slender, though elegantly dressed, in an expensive Italian suit. His short cut red hair seemed somewhat unkempt, surprising given his neat dress and a short growth of red whiskers adorned his face.
"Celestial Chorus," the Reverend said, sitting down herself, next to Alexis. "Then she said, "Akashic Brotherhood."
The man who sat down had a lean weather-beaten look about him. He had tanned, leathery skin, with long hair tied back in a pony tail and wore a beard, neat and trim. Once announced, the Brother quickly moved to sit and was busy regarding everyone before anyone even had a chance to notice him.
"Lloyd Davies," he told them.
"Sons of Ether."
The elderly man sitting down next to Lloyd was neatly, but casually dressed in jeans and a simple sports coat. Slender and wiry, he had light grey hair touched with white in places, which he kept short and neatly cut. The Son nodded and smiled to Lloyd and then to the others, and regarded them all with a piecing penetrating look.
"Jack Edar," he said.
"Virtual Adepts."
The young woman sitting down had long blond hair kept unadorned and simple and wore thick rimmed glasses. Her warm smile seemed if anything shy and as she sat, her hands played about on the table as if longing for something to touch. The Adept glanced about nervously and with her eyes locked to the table said, "Anne Evangelista."
"Well, I want to thank you all for coming, and I think we are ready to begin."
"Now quite," Montana, the Cultist, raised his hand. "May I point out that one Tradition seems to have been excluded.
Reverend Joy blinked. "Certainly you don't think I should have invited the Technocracy, do you?"
"That wasn't who I was speaking about," Montana said testily. "I was referring to the Hollow Ones."
Gert put his large hands onto the table and coughed to get everyone's attention. "Excuse me, but I must agree with the kind Reverend here. We cannot allow these vagabonds to be accorded the rights of a Tradition. They are simply an amalgamation of orphans, who seem to fight each other as much as they do any of us. They have no common thread or unifying factor other than that they are not part of our communities or of the Technocracy. And even if we were to acknowledge them, how could we ask them to choose a leader when they are just a mob?"
Anne Evangelista raised her hand. "Excuse me, but I have other things to get onto tonight and I know this isn't the main issue. But if you want my opinion"
"Not really," Gert cut her off.
Before anyone could say anything else, Reverend Joy was quick to comment. "Excuse me Gert, but I want everyone here tonight to have an equal share in speaking." Alana turned to Anne. "Please, continue."
"As I was saying," Anne glared at Gert. "we shouldn't exclude anyone. If a representative comes forward from the Hollows, then they should be allowed to sit."
"But no one has come forward," the Reverend said. "In fact, I had not thought to invite them."
Montana smiled and tapped his glass with his fingernail. "Excuse me, but I happen to know that a representative of a large group of Hollows is waiting outside. I know because I invited her."
"You did what?" the Reverend asked. "How!" She caught herself from saying something else. "You should have conferred with me first," the Reverend said.
"Why? Just because you're summing this Tribunal doesn't mean that yours is the deciding voice here, anymore than one of ours."
The Reverend paused, as if thinking.
"I agree with the good Reverend here," Gert reiterated. "I say, since she wasn't invited, let's keep her out. We should only start showing respect to this scum once they start acting like they deserve it."
"Perhaps we should put it to a vote," Waahia suggested.
"No chance," Montana thumped his fist on the table. Strangely, there was no vibration or sound. He paused, noting this, and then continued. "If you all don't allow the Hollows to sit in on this, then I walk and I am the elected representative of the Cult. I don't care how many Deadheads, Herms and Adepts you bring here, let's face it, the real strength on the coast belongs to the Chorus, Cult and Verbs. Without me, you have no real Tribunal. So, I say, let's let her in or I walk. So, you just all think about it and decide if you really want this Tribunal."
"Fine by me," Gert said aloud. "Go ahead and walk."
"You'd like that wouldn't you," the Reverend glared at the Verbena, her masque of cordiality slowly becoming undone. Across the table, the Chorus leader and Verbena glared at each other, as if daring each other to act.
"As far as I can see, there's no reason for this gathering," Gert growled. "And I veto any attempt to bring in the Hollows. The night's getting old and you've wasted our time enough, Joy. Why not admit it and let us all get out of here?"
"I have no objections to the seating of the Hollow," Waahia said in her soft lilting voice.
"Do any of the rest of you have objections?" Joy asked. No one said anything.
"But I do!" Gert said again, smiling as if triumphant. "I VETO this suggestion and if this council insists, then I declare this Tribunal null and void, according to the tenets of the last Tribunal held here."
Bessie, who had remained silent up until this point stood, "I am sorry, but as co-representative of the Verbena here, I must refute my brother, Gert. I do believe it is only fair that the Hollows be allowed to attend if they so wish to. So, with my vote cast against Gert's, the Verbena are deadlocked and have no vote to cast on this matter, nor can we veto your suggestion." She nodded to Montana, who surprised, nodded back. Montana exchanged a quick look with Gert, who shook his head.
Fuming, Gert folded his arms, not bothering to look at his fellow Verbena seated alongside. For her part, Bessie sat back, as if willing to become insignificant once more.
"Then, we will seat your Hollow," Reverend Joy told Montana.
Montana looked dumbstruck and then, he began to stutter, "Ahh, well, O.K. Great! Ah, she's outside, parked on a Harley."
"I think my Acolytes can recognize a Hollow," the Reverend said sarcastically. "Certainly we've had to teach them enough lessons of late."
The Reverend didn't get up but merely closed her eyes. Everyone waited for what seemed several minutes. Then, the door to the room opened and a leather-clad young woman entered, noisily chewing gum and snorting derisively as she paraded around the table, looking at the assembled magi.
"Why Bitchy thought you dumbfucks would be worth listnin too, I don't know."
"Sit down," the Reverend's calm voice suggested. The young woman stuck a pierced and studded tongue out at Joy, then inexplicably suddenly rushed to sit down. Her actions seemed to surprise herself and she looked around at the assembled Magi, shocked and seemingly a little scared.
"What's your name, Hollow One?" the Reverend asked.
"Helen. Helen Mariana. I'm ah, one of the "Black Arrows", she said.
"Who are the Black Arrows?" Anne Evangelista asked.
"There one of the pathetic gangs that the Hollows have formed," Gert snorted. "They give themselves butch names, as if they were important."
"We ARE important, you smug furback-FUCKER!" Helen said, rising and reaching for a knife at her belt. Anne pulled her back to her seat. Helen looked at Anne surprised, but her hand left her knife. Anne glanced at her arms. Needle tracks crisscrossed their way, following her veins, looking like a mockery of Gert's tattoos.
Once things had calmed down, Reverend Joy began again.
"Now that we are ALL assembled here," she said. "We come to the reason for our gathering. I shall begin by letting the Verbena tell their side of the story." The Reverend nodded to Gert, who arose and looked around at everyone.
"As you all know, for decades now we've lived here on the coast and in the mountains, sheltered from the Technocracy not so much by our own efforts, as by benefiting from the fight of the mountain werewolves to keep what they see as corruption at bay. This has been the way things have been for over a hundred years. But as you know, the earthquake back in 1989 destroyed a number of nodes. Certain of us," Gert said, glaring at Helen and Joy, "have taken it upon themselves to begin robbing werewolf nodes, raping them for their quintessence. Whatever their motivations in all this might be, the resultant effect has been to weaken the werewolves power. Now the werewolves have to watch their backs as well, not knowing if the attacks are going to come from us or from the Techs. The Techs have made inroads. Pentex has taken over the cement plant at Davenport. Fomori and mutated werewolves have been seen by the dump; vampires are more plentiful in town than they've ever been."
"We have a right to Tass!" Helen spat. "Since you've all seen so fit to deny us, we've taken our own! We have a right to survive! And we never attacked you!"
"Not directly, no." Gert admitted. "But you might as well have. Some of you know this already, but we Verbena have been hit hard. Tech troopers almost made it to the heart of our node two years ago and we only barely managed to beat them off and keep them from torching our sacred oak grove. Now that the werewolf power has been divided, the wolves are not able to watch the frontier like they once were. We've tried to help them but our power is nothing compared to the Technocracy. And certainly, fellow Tradition magi in Saratoga have not seen fit to help us," Gert said, accusing Jack Edar. Going on, "And I should tell you that this has infuriated the werewolves. They've lost face and faith in magi. They see you, not us, but ALL of you as being no better than the Techs and we were only barely able to keep them from declaring open war on all of you. Yes, Reverend Joy, you have the Verbena to thank for keeping the werewolves from torching this place and gutting every acolyte and convert you have. YOU!" Gert pointed at Helen, "have no idea what fury you've awakened."
"So, you admit it!" Helen pointed. "The furbags ARE out to kill us all. Then, you can all see that we were right to begin this war," she protested to the assembled group. "By hitting them now, we can prevent them from every being a threat to us. It was only a matter of time before they turned on us anyway."
"They didn't even know you existed until you started killing their people!" Gert screamed. "YOU FOOL! YOU BLIND PATHETIC FOOL! Don't you know what you've done? In the ashes of the war the werewolves would have launched upon you, only one victor would have emerged - the Technocracy! They would have won without even having had to fight us!"
"That is such pure Techno bullshit!" Helen screamed back. "You just don't want us to grow strong and become our own Tradition. We all know how rich Verbena nodes are, but do they share them? No! And then they scream at us for doing what we must to survive?! Give me a break. By the time the Techs get through those hills, they'll find we're more than a match for them - or any of you!" Helen warned. She looked at Reverend Joy. "We're not the same little kids you used to send your acolytes to pick on," she said venomously. "You all soon find that war has made us strong - very strong! And our plunder of tass is enough to scorch ANY of you off this planet if you even think of getting in our way." Helen looked at Gert and smirked. "That includes you, big boy, and you know its true, don't you?"
Gert nodded. "The Hollows destroyed the Green Hills Werewolf Sept. They raped beautiful self sustaining tass from Gaia's wound and have hoarded it somewhere. With Green Hills gone, the other werewolf groups are struggling to try and plug the gap, but for now, the way to Santa Cruz is wide open for the Techs. They could just march in."
"And they'll find us waiting," Helen promised. "We're not afraid of the Techs, you, the furbacks or anyone. You ignored us before. Now we have the POWER! to protect ourselves." Helen pounded the table and then looked at it much as Montana had done before, as if not trusting its surface.
Helen smiled, looking at all of them like a kid who had her comeuppance on her parents. "So, Magi, what do you say? We Hollows know how to die. You want us to show you the way?"
Now it was Gert's turn to smirk. "Oh, you'll get your chance, soon enough," he promised. "Together, my people and the werewolf tribes have banded together to try and bring the War to the heart of the Technocracy. We have now summoned and chained a power to our bidding that makes your sum of Tass seem like the nothing it truly is," Gert smiled at Helen. "We have brought the Sun Child to us."
"What is the Sun Child?" Anne asked.
"It's a demon," the Reverend explained. "The fools have brought a demon to the mountains, and they intend to launch it upon the Technocracy."
"The Sun Child!" Waahia gasped. "But, the Sun Child laid waste to Oakland just a few years ago! Hundreds were killed and the earth was burned black!"
"We didn't know how to control it then," Gert admitted. "We've learned much since then and we give it what it needs in order to control it."
"And what would that be?" Anne asked again.
Montana answered her. "The Verbena specialty - blood!"
"Blood!" Anne seemed surprised. "Whose blood?"
Gert grew silent.
"Whose blood?!" Anne demanded.
"Tell them," Reverend Joy said. "Go ahead and tell them, Gert."
"Whatever we have done," Gert said to them all, "We have done for the good of our people. We have been forced to this course," he said, again looking at Helen, "and now that we have arrived, we have no intention of turning back. We shall use the Sun Child to destroy our enemies - ALL of our enemies. And if a few sleepers must be sacrificed on the way, then so be it. Certainly their deaths are insignificant compared to all those who have died thus far."
"Insignificant?" Reverend Joy questioned. "Hardly to those sleepers who you culled for this barbarity. Or to their families. Don't you see how this evil has gripped you?" Joy asked. "You claim that the Sun Child shall rid you of all your enemies when what you don't realize is that this abomination is beyond your control. It is rather an enemy to all existence. It is a force of Paradox beyond reckoning, and you have brought it HERE!"
"We control it! You worry our fellows without reason!"
Joy pulled herself back, trying to focus and control herself. When she next spoke, her voice had resumed its calm and serene manner.
"It wants you to think you control it," she said. "My people have already witnessed two events that were undoubtedly perpetrated by your demon. It's testing the waters. While you think it's resting, awaiting your word, it's sneaking out to feed itself. It will rape a million souls and it will not be satisfied. You have brought us a greater evil than even the Technocracy. At least we have means to fight the Techs, but there can be no understanding of this thing. Even the spirits of the dead fly from this thing. Do you know something that they do not?"
"We will not change our course," Gert stubbornly maintained.
"Let us hope we can change that attitude," the Reverend said. "If not, then the purpose of this Tribunal is clear - to form an alliance for the purpose of defeating you and the Sun Child."
"As you always intended," Gert said, spitting out his accusation. "I don't know why you even invited us!"
"To give you a chance to change your minds," the Reverend said. "Though I don't think that is possible. You are too far gone in this madness - too far captured by this lust for power."
"Have you forgotten the werewolves?" Gert asked. "Do you think they will stand by and see you interfere with their plans once more? Don't forget that their shamans are the ones who have helped summon the Sun Child. You will initiate a terrible war if you all follow this course and you shall play into the hands of our enemy."
"There is only one enemy now that need concern us," the Reverend insisted. "And YOU brought it here."
There followed a great quiet as all digested the information brought forth. Finally, the Reverend turned to the others who had not spoken yet, asking them their opinions.
The thin bearded man sat back in his chair, carefully observing the discussion around him. As the tension mounted, he carefully and slightly pushed his chair back from the table. It was a quiet move, and those engaged in the shouting match seemed to pay no attention. When the furor died down, and attention diverted to the remaining four, it was Lloyd who broke the silence.
"Who are your enemies?" he said softly.
"What?" Gert asked, surprised by the sudden question.
"A man is defined by his enemies as much as by his friends or himself. You have stated that you intend to use the Sun Child against your enemies. I would know who they are. More importantly, I wish to know who they will become. Is Reverend Joy now an enemy because she does not agree with you? Will you now unleash the Sun Child upon her? We know where it starts. You have told us that. I would hear where it ends." He fell silent, carefully watching the table.
Gert drew back, assessing the question. "We summoned the Sun Child to fight the Techs. We never intended to unleash it on you."
Lloyd started to ask another question, but Gert held up his hand to show that he hadn't finished. "How many times I have asked why the Akashic warriours in Esalen have never roused themselves to help us. Yes, yes, I know, you say you walk the path of peace. But now I see you,. an Akashic and you come not with help but with only empty questions. THIS question of where to direct the Sun Child is not only ours. We have as yet tried to protect all of you from the fury of the werewolves in the past. Consider this, if you attack us, and thereby default, the great werewolf tribes, they will not hesitate to make use of the Sun Child. They have lost many to" he looked again at Helen and Joy, "predations by greedy magi seeking to bolster their own power at the expense of others. The werewolves do not shrink from battle, but I don't think they want to loose more of their people. I do not think that all of you are enough to defeat them. Already, their drums of war have been answered from septs all over the Bay Area."
Gert looked at his hands, his eyes absently wandering over the patterns of rock in the red granite that seemed to capture so many pairs of eyes.
"I would ask that all of you consider what I'm about to say. You distrust our ability to reign in this power, true? Well then, why not give us twenty-four hours to prove ourselves."
"Why twenty-four hours?" Anne asked. "What's going on?"
Gert smiled. "Why, nothing less than the opening moves of war. Even as we speak, the dog as been loosened. The Sun Child Walks."
Stunned silence greeted these words.
"Where?" Montana asked, his voice unsteady and quavering.
"Why, where do you think? It has gone walking over the Hill."
Waahia held up her hand. "But, regardless that Silicon Valley is the stronghold of the Technocracy, but still, more than a million sleepers, innocent lives, still reside there. Would you doom them as well?"
"This IS war," Gert reiterated.
Waahia sagged back in her chair. "I had come here with an open mind. Now I see that you have shut it for me."
Gert ignored her implied threat. "Other than for your vote, what does it matter what you say? The Speakers haven't roused themselves for over a hundred years and your weak numbers offer little sway to my mind. I would tell you this, Waahia, do not stand against us. In answer to this man's question," Gert pointed at Lloyd, "we do not declare YOU an enemy, but by foolishness, YOU may declare yourselves as such."
"The werewolves."
The comment, sounding like a passing thought spoken aloud, came from the old man. This in itself was surprising because it had seemed that the mage was far more interested in the uncannily silent tabletop than in the matter being discussed; he had spent most of the meeting running his hand over its surface and staring at it as if he were looking beyond its surface into its very core.
Perhaps he could. But now he was looking at the Verbena mage, his gaze light, his expression almost but not quite a smile, but his manner was very direct, meeting the gaze of the powerful bloodmage easily.
"What did you tell them?"
His tone is light, suggestive of an idle question...but not so idle so as to be dismissed without an answer.
"When you asked for their assistance in summoning this...creature," he amplified, helpfully.
Gert's eyes narrowed as he regarded the Etherson, as if trying to read something behind the question. "We simply reminded them that it was the garou themselves who first summoned the Sun Child back in Oakland. We proposed that this time, we could help them control it and this we've done."
During this exchange, Igor simply looked at the people assembled around the table. He mostly had a confused look on his face (which he was unsucessfully trying to hide) as if many topics in this discussion eluded him.
Alexis ran his hand through his unkempt hair and spoke at a lull in the conversation.
"So, unless I misunderstand, and you'll have to forgive me for I have had too little sleep, you have summoned this thing - let's not use the word demon, it's so predjudicial - called the Sun Child so that you can inflict it on the Technocracy.
"I think I can speak to this from my own Tradition's history. It always begins like this - you summon a power you know you can control, to do something good. But the road to hell is paved with good intentions, is it not? You may believe that you are the one controlling the Sun Child. But are you so sure?
"I am afraid that while I may not count you as an enemy now, the day will come soon when the power you have summoned will take you out of the sunlit realms and into the dark. And then I will be forced to count you as an enemy, much as it pains me to raise a hand against a brother mage."
Alexis almost sat down again, but then apparently remembered something else.
"As for the grievances of the werewolves against the Hollow Ones and such mages, I think that they are legitimate. I hope you," and he nods to Gert, "Will convey to them that if there is anything that I can do to make up for the sins of my bretheren, any help I can render, I will do so."
And Alexis sat down again.
Helen jumped up from her seat. "DAMN YOU!" she spat in the direction of Alexis, her spittle landing wet and glistening on the table before him. "You think you can JUDGE US?!! You who are so high and mighty! Well, listen here, Herm," the Hollow leaned on the table glaring at Alexis. "Anyone - ANYONE - who wants a piece of us can try and find us willing and waiting! Do you understand that? This is about war and existence, and we don't care what happens to any of you! We will survive!"
Lloyd turned to the others. "The problem goes deeper than that, and is of broader scope then any of us may realize." He turned back to the Verbena. "You have spoken of the Werewolves as though they were a united front. They are not. There are many who oppose your group, both quietly and otherwise. For now, they wait, hoping reason will win the day. Eventually they will be able to wait no longer. They will strike, or you will. It doesn't matter which. When that inevitable day comes, the Garou will go to war against themselves. Their attention will be divided, their focus scattered. You will be called upon to help your allies. Fail, and your alliance shatters into a thousand bloody pieces. Come to their aid, and you get dragged into their politics. Either way, your focus is lost, a situation that can only help our enemies.
"Further, this tribunal is hardly unified on this issue. We will take sides. It is happening already. Look around you! Reverend Joy and her Choirsters will almost certainly fight you. Others will follow. War will break out among the Traditions, and blood will spill. You, of all people, should understand what the spilling of blood does to human passions.
"The Technocracy will have to react. Or are you fool enough to think you can defeat them in a stroke? They will move with precision, coordination, and sound tactics into a field covered by warring factions too distracted by their own battles to fight the one that matters. Can the Marauders or the Nephandi be far behind?
"And in the center, the Sun-Child waits, feeding off the blood we spill."
His eyes locked on Gert. "I have seen war. I know it perhaps better than any person here. You say you control the Sun-Child. I say that point is irrelevant. You do not. . . .you *cannot*. . .control the events that must follow. The factors I have named are but a few that will surface."
His gaze shifted to Bessie. "Your cause is lost before it begins," he said solemnly. "Your tactics betray your objectives. There is only one path open to you." He spoke slowly and emphatically. "Change your course."
Gert shook his head, composed and resolute. "We will not. And any who oppose us will be destroyed. Despite all your rhetoric, you shall find that it simply comes down to this."
Reverend Joy spoke. "Your attitude, Gert, is hardly surprising. I had only allowed the barest bit of hope you could be persuaded otherwise. My true purpose in inviting you here was to show to the others how intractable you truly are."
Gert didn't reply but merely sneered at her.
She rose and all eyes turned to her.
"The outcome of this Tribunal shall be relayed to our Tradition chapters elsewhere. We urge you to contact your fellows abroad but we shall endeavor to do the same and word of this Tribunal shall soon be broadcast worldwide. Based on the outcome of our vote here tonight, we can bring pressure to bear on other Verbena chapters. All Verbena must be held accountable for your actions," she calmly stated to Gert. "If we cannot persuade you, then others of your Tradition will have to renounce you or they will suffer if they do not. Do not doubt it."
"You will not prevail. No matter what you decide otherwise, these minions will not plunge their Traditions into war," Gert told her.
"We shall see. I doubt that even other Verbena elsewhere will support you in this once the outcome of this Tribunal is made known," the Reverend replied. Turning to the others, she said, "As representatives of your Traditions, when we vote, each Tradition shall have one vote. The majority shall rule and if the motion carries, then the measure shall be supported by all the Traditions, on pain of being outcast and hunted."
"The motion being proposed is this - That the Verbena Stone Hollow Chantry will desist their alliance with the entity known as the Sun Child and that they will banish said entity back to the nether regions from which it came. That failing to do this, that the Stone Hollow Chantry will be declared as outcasts to be hunted and destroyed by all those who hold themselves to the Traditions. All Verbena chantries worldwide are called upon to renounce the Stone Hollow Chantry and aid in its destruction or face the same at the hands of all the Traditions. We shall vote in order of our seating. Does anyone have anything to say or add before the voting commences?"
Gert yawned as if the Reverend's words were of little interest to him. He hadn't even finished yawning as he spoke. "I wonder what the members of our little gathering would think if they knew, Reverend, that you were in contact with the Technocracy New World Order."
Waahia gasped. "Reverend Joy, is this true?"
The barest flicker of surprise registered across the Reverend's face, in the form of her eyes, which widened just slightly.
"Well, is it?" the Cultist, Montana, insisted.
Reverend Joy simply nodded. "Yes, it is my intention to warn the Technocracy. Why not? If anyone should expend their energies and resources fighting this abomination, why should it not be our enemies?"
"So, you would use us to gut the Technocracy anyway," Gert laughed. Turning to the others, he said, "You see how the Chorus acts? We've denied nothing, but here THEY are scheming behind all our backs. Don't think that they won't sell you out just as soon if it suits their purpose. As far as their concerned, Santa Cruz is theirs. Once we're gone, who will be next? The Euthanatos? The Hollows? The Adepts? We all know what happened to the Herms and Akashics a hundred years ago. The Chorus burned out their chantries and killed every one of them that they could lay their hands on."
"That was long ago," the Reverend calmly replied to the accusing stares that greeted her all around the table. "Situations and attitudes have changed much since then."
"She's lying," Gert sneered. "Once you vote her way, she'll be done with you. She doesn't need you, just your vote. After all, she's got the Technocracy as an ally now, don't you, Reverend? The way I see it, we're both dancing with devils. You know the caliber of loathsome treachery that embodies the Techs. Why not give our way at least a chance? You don't have to join us. Just agree not to fight us. Vote NO against this insane proposal and refuse to be Chorus puppets!"
The Adept Anne sighed. "Well!"
The Reverend didn't make any further reply, but simply waited for any last concerns or proposals to be put forward.
At this point, everyone present was surprised to see the red granite table glow, just slightly. The point of emanation originated from the Euthanatos, Igor, and spread with fingers of light barely perceptible within the stone, touching each of the magi present.
"Do not think that even subtle uses of Magick go unnoticed HERE," the Reverend calmly informed the Euthanatos.
The Russian turned toward the Reverend, with an impassible face. "I don't know anything about the topics discussed here. If I can't judge the ideals, I can at least sense the worth of the people supporting them." Those words were all the explanations he gave, before lapsing into complete silence again.
The elderly Son of Ether filled the silence. Addressing Gert once more, he said, "One more question. A small technical matter." His tone is matter of fact. "What preparations have you made with respect to Resheph?"
Gert turned his head, as if thinking. Finally, he replied, "Resheph? You speak in riddles Etherson. Is this a name or a term you use?"
However, Jack did not answer, merely watching the Verbena quietly. Unanswered, Gert shrugged and seem to forget the question entirely.
After a quiet lull, Reverend Joy addressed the Tribunal. "It seems we've all said what we're going to say. Now has come the time to vote. Please - place your hands upon the table, palms downward. Here is my proposal, - that we together form an alliance with the express purpose of defeating the Verbena. We shall inform our Traditions of this decision and all Verbena chantries that do not acknowledge the righteousness of this decision shall themselves come under pressure from our brothers and sisters. Consider this a dwell upon the answer, a yes or no."
One by one, all present placed their hands upon the table as directed. Interestingly, it was Besie and not Gert who voted for the Verbena. Gert kept his hands folded, scowling as he watched the Tribunal members. A sound of ringing invisible chimes sounded announcing what decision the Tribunal had come to.
The chimes sounded low with a mournful tone, meaning that the Tribunal had decided upon war.
"I want a polling!" Gert promptly demanded.
In the order of their seating, a coloured light emanated from the table, weaving either a thread of positive white light, that of disagreeing dark green or the neutral tone of purple. Those voting yes included the Dreamspeaker, Order of Hermes, Celestial Chorus, and Akashic Brotherhood. No votes were cast by, not surprisingly, the Verbena, but also the Cult of Ecstasy and the Virtual Adepts. For all their rhetoric, Helen, the representative from the Hollow Ones, who had been allowed to vote had abstained as had the Euthanatos and Son of Ether, both indicated by purple spots on the portion of table in front of them. War had been voted for by the slimmest of margins.
Gert glared at of all people, the Euthanatos. "You'll live to regret this," he spat, storming out of the room.
Besie lingered a moment. "Please, don't fight us. You'll only doom yourselves." Then she quickly left before anyone had a chance to reply.
The Reverend folded her hands. "I would have rather this had been a more unified decision, but accordingly, by the convention of the Tribunal of 1856, I declare that all members of the Traditions in this room, including in this instance, the ones who call themselves the Hollow Ones, shall be bound to take forceful action against the Verbena in order to halt this abomination. We, as instigators, will take the first action and we expect and require that any and all of you aid us in whatever request we make to prosecute this war. We must act quickly, lest the Verbena take the time to strike out at us. Gert has said that the Sun Child walks tonight. Hopefully, that shall not be true of tomorrow night as well. Unless anyone has anything to add, I declare this Tribunal adjourned."
Igor looked at the people still seated around the table.
"They will strike at me first, I presume. Gert was angry and feels betrayal from me. He tried to buy my vote with money and blackmailing, and as I reponded with honesty instead of fear or greed to this issue, it was sufficient to tip slightly the balance toward war. I was warned the Choristers," Igor gave a small nod to the Reverend. "would seek me out and destroy me unless I had the Verbenas' protection. I know nothing of you, you know nothing of me. I wish no harm to anyone and would like nothing better than to be as little involved in this as possible. Though my life is in jeopardy now from the little I understand of what happened tonite. I will help as best as I can if I am assured that the Choristers will leave me alone after this."
It seemed like talking too much was very unusual for him. He waited for any reply, hesitant and quite uneasy about this diplomatic exchange.
The Reverend returned to Igor a thin lipped smile. "Our Euthanatos brother here has nothing to fear from us. As long as the peculiar practices of his `Tradition' do not offend our sensibilities, then we shall not bring him or those of his way any harm - especially given his promise to aid us. And now, if you good people do not mind, I have much to do."
With that, the Reverend got up and left the table.

1. The Sun Child, even while the Tribunal was meeting, was supposedly attacking the Technocracy. Your character learns that in actuality, it attacked and destroyed one of the main Sons of Ether chantry in Saratoga and the site of a powerful node.

2. The Celestial Chorus orchestrated an attack on the Verbena and werewolves Tuesday night. They were beaten off, taking terrible losses, including Reverend Joy, who lies near death in Unity Temple.

3. Magi from all the Traditions are converging on Santa Cruz, ready to try and take the Verbena node and disrupt their tie to the Sun Child - or to defeat the Sun Child itself. No one is heartened by the defeat of the Chorus, who were the most powerful Tradition in Santa Cruz. Most assualts are being planned on purely Tradition based lines. Rumours are that the Dreamspeakers will be the next to try. Even the Hollow Ones are trying to put forth an effort, hoping to win respectability as a Tradition among their laurels. Even other Verbena from elsewhere, who agree with the findings of the Santa Cruz Tribunal are offering their own help to fight their brothers and sisters in the mountains.

(In the interests of getting myself up to time, and
because I said a while ago I wanted to spend some XP on
Forces 2:)

Thursday, June 8th, 1995, 7:45 p.m.

Alex looked up at the candle's flame. Grandfather Salamander stared back at him from within it.
"You can already perceive the flames. Now you must learn to direct them, Alex."
"I'm not sure that right now is the best time for studies."
The flame flared, melting the candle somewhat. "Do you think I will always be here to protect you? If something were to befall me, you are helpless. And the Sun Child knows how to deal with the defenseless."
Alex knew Grandfather was right. His problems did not stem from that, however. He was troubled by the pursuit of knowledge that could so obviously be used to harm. Sighing, he reached out toward the flame again, envisioning picking up the flame and blasting the other candle with it. His hand closed on the flame, and though Grandfather kept him from being burnt, he could not move it.
"It's no use, Grandfather. Perhaps I should leave the burning and destroying things to someone else."
Suddenly, the flame surged into a fountain, and twisted like a rope. Grandfather Salamander ran up and down the rope, agitated. "Forces are not destructive, any more than is your hand. It is what you turn them to that may be destructive. Try something else. Try shaping the flame instead."
Alex nodded, and reached out his hand again. Under the touch of his fingers, the fire moved, turned, and shaped into a face. It was Maggie, and the sudden realization of this made Alex loose control. The flame surged up his arm
and caught in his clothing.
Grandfather Salamader's usually small voice became huge.
"ENOUGH!" The fire went out, tiny sparks fading away as though embarassed in the presence of their master.
"That was good, Alex. But may I suggest next time, perhaps,
a flower?"
Exhausted after days of staring at the flame with no sleep, Alex could only blink stupidly. Then he laughed, and couldn't stop laughing until his gasps for breath faded, smoothed, and became sleep. Grandfather snuffed out the candles one by one, until Alex lay in darkness.

Friday, June 9th, 1995, 4:57 AM

Alex was suspended, again, above the lake of burning fire, the lake where he would be for all eternity. But this time, the fire formed into faces, spoke with voices, of all of the people he had known... Maggie, Sandolphan, even the Reverend Joy had a face in the flames. Alex tried to escape, but they grasped him like snakes and pulled him down into hell. He jolted awake, still in the burnt coat that he had been wearing for his studies. In the dark room he sat and stared for a while. Then he staggered upstairs in search of something to eat.
As he chomped his way through a bowl of soggy corn chips and drank a large mug of espresso, his mind began to focus until he realized what he must do.
"Grandfather, I'm going to speak to Reverend Joy, if she is able. I must find out how to contact the others. If we continue to face the Sun Child one by one, we will be cut down like the Chorus was."
Grandfather, adrift in the Umbra, did not acknowledge that Alex had spoken.
"And I need to get a message to the Dreamspeakers, to hold them off until we can present a united front. Grandfather, I will send one of your lesser bretheren, unless you think that unwise."
Alex sensed assent from Grandfather, and went to his circle in the basement. He placed fragrant woods upon the brazier as an offering, and began to chant. Soon, in the air above the circle, the air shimmered with the presence of an elemental of heat.
"Honored spirit, I would ask that you convey a message to one who is surely well known in the spirit world. In payment I burn for you this sacrifice." He placed another piece of wood on the brazier, and the elemental dipped and waved in the smoke.
"Will take message. If short"
Alex nodded. "Here is the message: from Alexis Affery of the Order of Hermes to Waahia of the Dreamspeakers: Greetings. I ask that your people wait in your action until others can be gathered to aid you. While we will all burn
separately, perhaps we will not burn together."
The air wavered as the heat elemental indicated its equivalent of a nod.
"I thank you, spirit. If you are given a message in return, I will again burn fragrant things for you. In any case, if you so desire return after delivering the message and I will burn some rose petals to you."
The spirit seemed pleased, and vanished.
"I wish I had time to just get her phone number. Oh well." Alex shrugged, and went up the stairs to head to the Temple.

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