MeetingTheMother(Continued from Revelations and Unmaskings) With Fallon following, Jacobi soon reaches Fallon's car in the parking garage. "I seem to recall," he says with a smile "I have been in this car before." He pauses a beat. "I can understand if you would prefer to drive, and I give you directions, rather than I driving you myself. In some ways, having you drive while I forge The Way would be easier for the both of us. And for the minions of the Phantom Queen to see you driving would do us both good. "We'll be heading out of town to the north, to the state of Maine," Jacobi continues. "That is the nearest point where we can cross to her realm." Fallon nods at Jacobi and steps to the driver's door, unlocks it and gets behind the wheel. He unlocks the door for Jacobi and speaks as Jacobi sits. "I have a few errands to run, first. Won't take long." "Errands?" Jacobi says quizzically, perhaps rhetorically. Fallon backs out of the parking spot, exits the garage and drives to his bar, parking around the corner. To Jacobi, he says, "I'll only be a couple of minutes, wait here." He pulls the keys and gets out, grabbing the duffel bag from the back seat. His eyes search the street for watchers as he walks over and enters the bar's employee entrance. Fallon walks down the hall and down some stairs into his office. It is spartan room, with only a mahogany desk, a old office chair, and an Irish flag on the wall. Fallon moves aside the heavy desk and opens the concealed hatch in the floor, and steps into his real office and strong room. He quickly removes, wipes down and puts the contents of his duffel bag into his room high gun safe. He removes a shoulder holster from the safe and puts it on. Then places a Glock 22 into it, slides its silencer into the compartment on the holster and places two extra clips in the available slots. He closes and locks the safe. Then he opens the smaller wall safe, next to it. He places the euros received from Regan in it and pulls some greenbacks, and placing about a grand in his wallet. He closes and locks the safe. He thinks for a moment, and then re-opens the gun safe and pulls what looks like an electric guitar case from it. He opens it for a moment, looking at his sniper rifle, and then closes it again. He re-locks the gun safe, picks up the guitar case and steps back up and out of the secret office. He closes and locks the hatch, moves the desk back into place and walks up to the bar. "Reilly," he calls to the bartender, "take my rental back." "You got it," Reilly says as Fallon tosses him the keys. Fallon goes into the small two-car garage next to the bar building. Behind the seats of his '63 Corvette Stingray coupe, he lifts a false bottom and places the guitar case in the compartment there. Then he pulls out and drives around the block, and pulling up next to Jacobi in the rental. "Get in," he calls to him, as Reilly steps around the corner, holding the keys for the rental. "Ah, we're going to travel in your car," Jacobi says. He exits the car and hustles to get into the passenger seat of the Corvette. He gives a glance backward at Reilly and the rental car. "You seem to have him well trained," Jacobi remarks. "We'll want to get on US 1 and head up that way. "Why did you want to take your own car rather than that one, anyway?" he asks. "Are you expecting treachery of some kind? I intend no such thing." Fallon looks at Jacobi for the merest moment. "I always expect treachery, it's not just you." Fallon shifts into gear and heads to US 1. "Besides, I switched out IDs and that one's rented under another alias I use. It wouldn't look good to get pulled over and have the information not check out. Plus I used that car to commit a felony. The sooner it gets back to the rental company, the sooner it's cleaned and washed. The sooner the evidence gets flushed away." "I suppose the fact that I have no desire to have you prosecuted means nothing to the letter of the law." He shakes his head in disbelief. "Law and power work very differently in other worlds, Fallon." The next two hours are a drive through northern Massachusetts, cutting across New Hampshire, and into Maine. Throughout this drive, Jacobi remains quiet, mostly looking out the window with a pensive expression. The only real conversation and discussion he offers is at the New Hampshire-Massachusetts border. "What we're going to do is head up a highway off of the interstate in Maine, Fallon. Once we're deep into the forest, I can open a Way to her realm and the road will lead us right into it. You just keep focusing on driving. Questions?" Fallon continues to drive in silence for a long moment. "What's she like?" he asks quietly. "What is the Morrigan, she who you claim is my mother, like?" "No one who has laid eyes upon her, in your world or any other, can do so and remain unchanged. To see her is to have your life change, be you mortal or Scion," Jacobi says. He pauses a beat. "She also has a very bloody sense of humor to leaven the gravity and gravitas of the death that follows in her wake." At a particular exit off I-95 in Maine short of Portland, he directs Fallon to get off the highway and to head into the Maine countryside on what quickly turns into a two-lane route through verdant forest. "Right. So this is about the point where we can cross. Are you ready, Fallon?" Fallon smirks slightly as he says in a poor imitation of John Wayne, "Let's do this, pilgrim." "All right." The two-lane paved road changes after about a quarter mile more of driving. The transition is smooth and easy, at least as easy as a sudden change from a paved road to a cobblestone road can be. The road stretches onward through the forest, and behind Fallon as well, disappearing around a curve. It is as if Fallon always had been driving on this cobblestone road. Fallon's attention to detail also tells him that the sun is inexplicably a little dimmer and ruddier in its light, as if it were suddenly sunset. This is despite the fact that the sun is still high in the sky. Ahead, not far away, a tower, maybe a hundred feet tall, rises above the trees in an elegant spire. "One of your mother's holdings," Jacobi says. "We'll not find many people who want to live in its shadow." Fallon eyes the terrain and studies the minor changes in his environment as he drives towards the tower. "Where exactly are we, Jacobi? Other than the obvious part, of arriving at one of her holdings? Where is this?" As he asks, he continues driving towards the tower. "We're in one of the otherworlds that is near to Earth," Jacobi says. "There are plenty of names for them as a set. Otherworlds, the multiverse. Some like to use Mittelmarch. Anyway, this is one of the worlds that your mother has taken under her command. "Worlds like this aren't usually as large as Earth, though," Jacobi continues. "There are a few worlds as large as Earth or larger, but for the most part they are relatively limited in size. "When you have a world that was budded off of Earth and still has a direct and permanent connection to it, that's called a Chancel," Jacobi says. "There's one of those down in Connecticut, a little town that the Goddess Epona has under her sway. Been there once. "This here was never part of Maine, so it's not a Chancel. And that bit I did can be done wherever the boundaries are weakest. Just happened to know that a weak spot was up in Maine. Chancels, though, you have to go to just the right spot. On the other hand, you don't need magic to get in them, just know the way in." By the time Jacobi has finished his explanation, the road and the trees have opened up into a small clearing that the tower is standing in the middle of. The clearing itself is no larger than a couple of soccer pitches, the base of the tall tower taking up most of that. Fallon drives into the clearing and parks next to the base of the tower, nose towards the path, in case they have to make a quick exit. He opens the car door and steps out of the car, He then checks his holstered pistol. He then looks at Jacobi, "I guess we find the door and knock." He walks around the tower, looking for the way in. His eyes search out the area as he does so, always expecting trouble. "If there is a door," Jacobi says,exiting the car. "There isn't always one to be found. That's part of her magic, too. I suspect that won't be a problem for you, Fallon." The door is a quarter way around the tower base, a large rusty thing of iron that reminds Fallon more like something on a ship than anything else. The handle, on the right side of the door, is a polished horizontal curve of bronze or brass, far better maintained than the rest of the door in appearance. There is no keyhole, and taking it off of its hinges seems impractical. "Just you," comes a disembodied voice from the door. "He can wait for our business to be concluded." Jacobi steps back a couple of paces, wiping his brow of a sudden burst of perspiration. Fallon eyes Jacobi for the merest moment and then nods to him and then to the car. He then says, "I'll be back," and then pulls on the handle to open the door. He takes a look back at Jacobi as he pulls. "You might want to wait in the car." He then steps into the tower. "I'll keep it ready," Jacobi says. His nervousness and perspiration are still evident, but he manages to give Fallon a smile. "Good luck," he says. "You will do fine." The door opens at Fallon's pull, and leads into a medieval-looking set of rooms. There is no sign of anyone in this entry chamber, nor in any of the other ground floor rooms, which include a kitchen, a small reading room, and doors to two rooms Fallon cannot open. There is also a spiral staircase rising up into the tower. "Top of the tower, Fallon," comes the voice even before Fallon can make a decision to explore the upper reaches. There are numerous landings on this stone staircase, each with doors similar to the door at the entrance. There is no guardrail or anything to keep the unwary from falling into the central shaft. Fortunately, the stairs are sound and not slippery or treacherous. It is only a matter of labor to climb the steps up. Fortunately the landings provide enough space for Fallon to stop and rest a few moments if he chooses. The top of the tower, however, is different, opening up without a door onto the crenellated roof of the structure. Before Fallon emerges, he can see the legs of a chair, and perhaps a table as well. A woman with pale skin and raven-colored hair is sitting in one of the chairs when he does emerge. She rises from her chair and watches Fallon carefully, expectantly. "Liam James Joyce," she says, offering her hands, in an accent much more Irish than the words he had heard guiding up to this point. "Be welcome. What has Mercury's scion told you of me?" Fallon looks her over and then slowly takes her hands as offered. "Just that you change whoever meets you, be they mortal or scion. Basically the Wikipedia entry. Although I did look that up my self." Fallon takes another long look at she who claims to be his mother. "So, what proof do I have that you are who he claims you are?" "That I am a Goddess?" she says. "Or your mother? I should think the former would be obvious, as you are no longer on Earth. As far as the latter, a recitation of your life would only prove that I have been keeping an eye on you for a very long time. "What sort of proofs would convince you of both?" She has a slightly amused smile on her face. Fallon looks around the tower and frowns for a moment. His right moves to hold the cross he wears around his neck. "I don't know, what I could ask that I would accept as proof." Fallon pauses thoughtfully. "Who was my father?" "Your father was Seamus Joyce, one of three sons of your grandfather Patrick," she says. "Your father raised you, with the help of his sister Mary. She lost her husband to a prison fight while he was interred in the Long Kesh. "You, my boy, kept out of that business as long as you could, until the shot that called your fiance to death rang out. The Provos were glad to have you for as long as you served them. That is when I first started to take more than a passing interest in you. I was surprised when you decided to leave Ireland for other shores. I am pleased you did not give up the gun when you came to America. One of your half-brothers not only did so, but became a priest, working in South America. We ... do not talk." Fallon takes a look around the room and smiles sadly. "Before I met my first love, I was bound for the seminary. It is interesting how fate shapes the world. As for my chosen profession, I believe one should follow one's calling. For some it is the paint brush, for others the pen, for others the guitar ... my art lies in a different instrument, albeit a highly specialized one." Fallon eyes the Morrigan, this Goddess who seems to be his mother. "I would like to meet my kin, at some point, including the priest." He looks around the room again, and then back at the Morrigan. "How did you meet my father?" "You'll have to arrange the meeting with your brother on your own. He does not show the potential that you do, but troubles follow him nevertheless, as is the way of our kind," the Morrigan replies. "We Goddesses do not linger long in the mortal world," the Morrigan continues. "We cannot, for we are as if walking on a thin piece of wood, cracking and distorting if we stand on it too long. But Earth is our first and foremost home, and thus all of us do visit Earth from time to time. Or take pieces of it away for ourselves. "Death attracts me, Liam, and it was death that first attracted me to your grandfather. Your grandfather was part of the Old IRA, that fought in the Irish War of Independence. Not only the likes of Michael Collins did great work in freeing most of Ireland during those years. I began to watch your family. "Your grandfather saw to it your father learned what he knew, and what you would learn. On a dark night in Belfast, your father's gun barked to protect a young woman's life. And it was then that I revealed myself to him. "He never understood what I was, the stories in Ireland are all of a muddle. He thought I was an elf, and could not remain in the mortal world for that reason. Nine months after our six weeks together, I gave him a son, you, and bade you be raised properly. And so he did." Fallon does nod at this. "He did instill in me with a love of my homeland, and perhaps an over-exaggerated belief in my duty to it, but I've seen the rot that seeps into the hearts of those who claim to stand true, and it shattered those illusions. So I'm out of the cause business. Speaking of causes, it would appear my companion on this trip had a purpose for our meeting. Would you know what that might be?" "It is needful that you take up a cause again, Liam," she replies. "And one with the greatest of stakes and the greatest of reasons to take it up, on my behalf. "Those who made the world, and made their children, we Gods, are stirring from their long imprisonment. They and their agents seek to return the world to the elemental and inhuman fury of their rule, and would sweep away Gods and man alike. "Your help is needed, my son, in keeping them from returning." She stops for a moment, a pause to study Fallon, and perhaps allow him an interjection. Fallon eyes the Morrigan. "The Titans? Aren't they of Greek origin? What pantheons exist?" "The Dodekatheon, the Greek Gods, have given the name to the Titans that all of the Gods use," she replies. "The Gods of my pantheon would call them the Fir Bolg and the Formorians. The Norse call them the Jotuns, the Giants. "But when we meet across cultures, we all call them the Titans. "And to answer your question, the major pantheons are the Asgardians, the Shining Host, the Dodekatheon, the Gods of Egypt, and those of the Chrysanthemum Court. "However ..." she regards Fallon, "possibly every pantheon that Man has imagined has existed or still exists," she says reflectively. Fallon's hand reflexively moves to his neck where the cross hangs. "Interesting, sounds dangerous. I suppose you all don't get along." The Morrigan gives a smile of confirmation. Fallon pauses, thinking, for a moment. "These Titans, do they have any allies among the Gods, those who would be helping them come back?" "Undoubtedly they exist, and undoubtedly they are engaging in subterfuge to do so even now." she says. "A scion who is discovered before her parent reveals himself to her, or a scion who is estranged from their parent, are targets for recruitment amongst the Titans and the Titanspawn. And, undoubtedly, some of the less trustworthy Gods themselves scheme to find favor with the Titans and aid their return. "Of course," she continues, "no God admits to such a program. But there are the usual suspects that are distrusted. Loki. Ares. Set. "Some might even say I am distrusted," she says. "Saying that I seek the slaughter that would result from the Titans' return." Fallon's poker face slips a little. "Did you arrange for this meeting, mother? Did you put Jacobi and Regan up to this? Set them up to get me here?" Fallon smiles. "It was a little elaborate, if you did. You could have just called." "I did put things in motion that would bring you to me," she says. "There were a number of ways this meeting may have occurred. I did not consider using a telephone to call you, son. Would you have believed me? Would you believe what you are without seeing it in Jacobi and Regan? "I may not be as clever as some of my fellow goddesses," the Morrigan continues. "However, I have learned that the direct approach to meeting Scions can lead to trouble. "At least I didn't invite you to a ball to reveal myself, as my sister Goddess is throwing for her daughter. Her Chancel, however, is your next destination once we are done here," she adds briskly. Fallon considers momentarily. "I may not have believed you, but I was surprised someone hired me to kidnap someone as a way of testing me and arranging a meeting. Kidnapping's not exactly my area of expertise, if you understand my meaning, Mother." He paces back and forth for a moment. "What's this about me going to your sister's party?" "Sister may not be the correct term, since she is from the Dodekatheon," the Morrigan says. "Certainly, we're related in the sense that all of the deities spring from those who created us. Sister is a convenient label. "Her name is Epona, and she is a goddess of Horses, primarily, and a few other estates. Rather than retreating entirely from the mortal world as I and many have done, she has taken a piece of the mortal world for herself and detached it from Earth. Mostly. We call such places Chancels. Most people forget that such places ever existed, except for the inhabitants. In this case, Epona took a small town in the state called Connecticut. She is having a ball to welcome her daughter, and has invited other Goddesses and Gods in the Prokect, such as myself, to send their scions there once they have introduced themselves to their Scions. "Thus, you," she says brightly. Fallon nods thoughtfully at this. "I'm not really a party goer, I tend to sit in the back corner and observe the comings and goings while watching the exits and mapping my escape roots. Old habits die hard." He paces back and forth, stalking like a wolf. "What good can I do if I take up your cause, mother? My specialty lies in modern implements of war, how can that compete against these Fir Bolg, these Formorians." He goes back and forth again. "I know what a bullet can do to a man when put through the heart or the head at a thousand meters and more. I don't know what that would do to those creatures." He continues to stalk back and forth, the wolf searching for signs of prey. "And that is something I would need to know, if I am to be an agent in this conflict." He pauses and looks directly at the Morrigan. "Is this cause just, Mother? Is it righteous? I've been betrayed by causes before." "The cause is to save Creation from those who would take it for their own, and turn it into a foul place not fit for meant for God or Man," the Morrigan replies. "If you think that the world should fall into such a state, then there is nothing that I can say to you, no lie or prattle, that will cause you to pick up a sword, a spear, or a gun." Fallon continues to stalk back and forth. He pauses for moment and looks at her as she speaks, and his eyes have the worn look of a man who has struggled with that decision before. He whispers to himself, "Is the world worth saving?" "But if you believe the world is a cause righteous enough to fight for, son, then do so. Take up arms on not only my behalf, not only the Gods', but for the world itself. "A child of a Goddess of battle," she smiles grimly, "will find that he can do grievous harm to the monsters he faces, more than most and as great as any. Be it with whatever weapon you have, or none. "You will find," she says, "that your sniper rifle has been empowered. By me." He pauses in his stalking again. "Empowered?" "Of course," she replies. "The Titanspawn can be strong in body and mind. And often the weapons of the modern day are not as effective against them as one might believe or expect. "Your rifle is an extension of yourself, now. You will find that you can be more effective against the Titanspawn with it, by act of will. "She'll save your life, someday. I have foreseen it." Fallon quirks a small smile. "Ironic, one does not normally associate the saving of lives with a sniper rifle." He eyes his mother. "Their singleness of purpose is clear to those who know them, who wield them, who fire them." As he stalks back and forth, his quirked smile turns into a feral grin. With a glint of darkness in his eye, he turns to the Morrigan. "But I will take the word of the one whose blood I have in my veins, whose claims of motherhood to me, ring true." He continues to stalk back and forth, and then turns to her again. "But next time, mother, tell me before you are going to do anything to my rifle, I need to know these things." "I will warn you before bestowing such gifts on your property again." The Morrigan's eyes shine. Fallon hears the distant call of a crow and can feel it is a promise with some kick to it. Perhaps even a geas. Fallon frowns. "I'll need to test it out on the range again, to see if the feel has changed." He moves in closer to his mother and looks her directly in the eye. "A sniper must trust his weapon, as if it were an extension of himself." He pauses. "Then re-learn your weapon, for it is a part of you, and one who cannot trust his own hand, can trust nothing," she replies. "So, I suppose this means I must trust you, and you me. Since apparently, I am your weapon in the upcoming war." "You are my hand," the Morrigan agrees. "And we must trust each other. I cannot remain long in the mortal world, especially with the rise of the Titanspawn. You must be my hand there. But we will meet in the real world, my son, in the desert, where Tyche has her host of temples. But before that day, I see your path will not be an easy one. "But, then, there are precious few easy paths open to the children of the Gods. Or the Gods Themselves." Fallon continues to watch his mother's eyes. "So, when do I meet my potential allies in this war? I must get to know who I'll be working with. Trust can't be built sight unseen, as it were." "Why, that should be the very next thing you do," the Morrigan replies, her gaze meeting his, a calm reflection of a look. "Have your friend awaiting you outside the Tower to take you to New Deptford, in my name and your own. Give my sister goddess her regards, and meet the Scions gathered there. The path from there will be clear, and if it is not clear, it will be revealed to you. "They will be dealing with the same trust and issues as you will be, son," she adds. "New to this experience, this life, and likely have the same concerns as you do. Bear that in mind." Fallon nods to his mother. "As you wish." He turns to walk out and then turns back for a moment. "I will endeavor to heed your advice in regards to my allies, mother, but I have a feeling that my trust issues run deeper than theirs. I still haven't decided if I can trust you yet." He smiles the same feral smile, as before. "First we will try, and then we will trust," the Morrigan replies. "Farewell." "Until our next meeting, mother." He then turns and walks out the door, down the stairs and out of the tower. Fallon walks quietly up to the car, watching for Jacobi, while keeping his eyes on his surroundings. All is quiet in this world of his mother's, and there is no signs of a wandering Jacobi or anything else. Although, there is a cry of some bird of prey that pierces the silence. As he approaches the car, Fallon can see Jacobi sitting in the driver's seat, studying a book of some kind, absorbed in it. "Jacobi," he calls, walking over and unlocking the driver-side door. The man looks up and closes the book with satisfaction and relief in his eyes. He slides over to the passenger seat. "We're heading to New Deptford, we have an invitation to a party," he says as he gets in. "And now I know you did see your lady mother," Jacobi says. "I thought it was possible you did not dare to do so. But if you did not, you wouldn't know about Chancels." He regards Fallon. "Your mother would have you do business with the Goddess Epona, then?" Fallon looks over at Jacobi. "Apparently, Epona is throwing a ball for her daughter." Fallon smiles his wolfish smile. "Apparently others of our ilk will be there. Mother, I suppose, wants me to meet those I'm to work with." Fallon starts the car and spins the tires out of the clearing. "You're the navigator, which way?" Fallon chuckles to himself as he puts on his aviator glasses. "We're on a mission from Gods, Jacobi." Jacobi grins. "I've seen that movie. But we are nowhere near Chicago. Thank the Gods. I hate what they call pizza." Fallon guns it and heads back the way they came. Jacobi indicates for Fallon to return down the road they came to come into Morrigan's world. "New Deptford is part of Earth, more so than here," Jacobi says. "Or it's more like it used to be part of Earth, but kind of pinched off. People forget that the place existed, but it often gets the same weather and stuff. So it's not quite a world of its own. "Thing is, to get into a Chancel, you need to go to a spot on Earth that opens onto it, so we have to go back to Earth to get there and go to its opening. Only one I know of for New Deptford is a forest in Connecticut. Real beyotch to get in there, too. But I'll show you the way. It's an important trading hub for people like us. "I never would be able to convince you to get in there if you hadn't met your mother," Jacobi says. "How was that, by the way? Besides getting orders to go to a party." As Jacobi talks, he must do whatever he did, but in reverse, because the woods around the car are no longer those of his mother's place, but rather the back highway in Maine. Fallon's expression turns serious. "We discussed family history, it was eye-opening." Fallon looks over at Jacobi. "You could say, we came to an understanding." He then turns back to the road and guns the engine, increasing speed. "How do you know The Morrigan, by the by?" "The mythological community isn't as large as you might think," Jacobi says. "There's a fair number of pantheons and Gods, true, but there aren't a terrible number of them, and we sort of gravitate toward each other. Matter of fact," Jacobi says, "one of the real smart types, Athena, I think, discovered that it's a law of the universe, maybe set in place by the Titans. Scions and Gods are drawn to each other, even if by accident or seeming chance. "Heard about a daughter of Poseidon and a son of Athena, were introduced to each other as Scions, and it turns out they knew each other - they had been to the same Young People's Day Camp when they were kids." Fallon frowns pensively. "You realize, she used you and Regan to set up the meeting with me, albeit indirectly." "Yes, that seems obvious," Jacobi says. "But look at it this way, Fallon." He pauses for a moment, directing Fallon to turn onto the Interstate for the trip south out of Maine and toward the rest of New England. "Right. What I was saying was, there are many ways to handle the introduction of a Scion into the Mythic World, as some call it. Now, some don't need much before they meet their Parent, because their life has been crazy strange enough, already. Titanspawn and other crazy stuff often are attracted to the likes of us, even before we know what we really are. "And if Morrigan came up to you in a bar without any prologue, you would think she was off her rocker." Fallon pauses thoughtfully. "True enough, probably so." He looks thoughtful again as he drives. "She also showed me something of herself in the doing of it." Fallon glances over at Jacobi for a second. "The test, you and Regan, put me through, I believe it was as much The Morrigans as yours, if you understand my meaning." Fallon smiles a wolfish smile. "She wanted to see how I'd respond to the weirdness and the manipulation." Fallon almost imperceptibly grips the steering wheel a little harder. "She wanted to remind me, that subtlety can be a warrior's weapon as well." "Not that only," Jacobi says. "Although the bloody-minded crone clearly wishes you to be her champion. Little surprise, she has little use for diplomats. "No, I think she wished to show you just what sort of world you have been catapulted into," Jacobi says. "Gods and their followers can be manipulative, crafty, deceptive and engaged in plots and intrigues. You know what this world is like. "There are non-Scions involved in this, too, I should add," Jacobi says. "Just because you learn you are a child of a God doesn't mean mortal contacts, allies and resources become useless. So they often wind up getting bound in the coils of the doings of the Scions." Fallon stares at the road ahead as he speeds up. "You may be right, Jacobi, but if that's the case, she merely reinforced something I already knew, because human beings play the same kind of games, and being in the business I'm in, I've seen my fair share of it. All it means now is that the stakes are higher." Fallon continues to stare at the road ahead and the wolfish grin slips back onto his face. "I wonder what kind of healthcare plan comes with working for The Morrigan, I hope it's full coverage." Conversation light and deep marks the trip down from Maine to Connecticut. Fallon's maps, geographical knowledge, and Jacobi's directions lead them to diagonally cross both the Commonwealth of Massachusetts and Connecticut alike, passing through Hartford on their way to the southeast of the state. By evening, and a gas and food stop in between, Jacobi has directed Fallon to take some unusual directions, including passing a road only to deliberately turn around and return to it to enter into a forested area. The bit with mucking with a statue and revealing a hitherto unknown road is eerily reminiscent of visiting Morrigan's Tower. Nonsense rules that seem to make sense to Jacobi. That last narrow forested road finally leads to a gravel parking lot. There is one car and one motorcycle (a beauty, too) here, and evening has now fallen. There are people across the river, just across a footbridge, but they appear to pay no mind to Jacobi and Fallon's arrival. They are all dressed as if they were historical reenactors from the 19th century, and the buildings all look like "old New England" in their style. "They can't see us until we enter the Chancel. Across the bridge of course," Jacobi explains. He looks at the car and motorcycle. "I don't recognize those. Fellow newly minted Scions like you, I expect." Fallon takes a look at everyone across the way, observing mannerisms and dress. Frowning slightly he turns to Jacobi. "It looks like we'll be out of place on that side, but nothing we can do about it now." He pauses for another moment, sighs, and begins walking across the bridge. "Let's go," he calls back to Jacobi. Jacobi nods, getting out of the car and flanking Fallon. The people of the old New England town ignore Fallon and his companion pointedly until they are halfway across the river. At this point a young man wandering by notices the pair and stops, watching Fallon and Jacobi cross the bridge and step forward into the town. "Here for the ball, or to see the High Reeve, I reckon, judging from your manner," the man says, scratching the back of his neck. "Her ladyship's at the Hotel, so that's your destination either way." He points down the street. "The ball should be starting soon. "Need help finding your way 'round town?" he adds, looking at Fallon. "You look like you've never been to a place like New Deptford before." Fallon eyes the direction the young man pointed in. "She's at the Hotel, good to know. Thanks." He glances back at Jacobi, and then at the young man. "We should be able to figure it out, thanks again." Fallon then begins walking down the street towards the hotel. "Not much for chatting with the locals, I note," Jacobi says dryly. "Of course, he was looking for patronage or coin for his trouble. Lucky for us this is New Deptford and not, say, Ridgeback or Babylon. I'd insist on a guide if we were going into either of those 'burgs." The Hotel Palio is easy to spot, on a square flanked by some other officious looking buildings, and off to one side, a hill that contains a temple that looks like its out of Ancient Greece. The Hotel itself looks more modern than that, but like all of the buildings Fallon and Jacobi passed on their walk through the town, it looks like something out of the 19th century, but looking brand new. Inside of the hotel, the clerk at the desk looks Fallon and Jacobi up and down as they enter the ornately decorated lobby. "He'll mark us as outsiders by our dress and manner, just like that citizen," Jacobi murmurs to Fallon. Fallon eyes the clerk and then Jacobi. "Do you want to take this? You've been here before, and we were supposedly invited to the Ball for Epona's daughter." "I'll take this," Jacobi says, rubbing his hands and stepping forward. "Good evening, sir," he says to the clerk. "I'm Archibald Jacobi, Scion of Hermes. This is Liam Joyce, son of the Morrigan. We're here for the Ball in honor of the High Reeve's daughter?" The clerk looks dubiously at Fallon for a moment, and then returns to Jacobi and then looks down. "Ah, yes. I see invitations to the chosen of the Morrigan and Hermes. Glad you are here. We've quarters for you, of course." "Good. We'll take possession of our rooms," Jacobi says instantly. "Would you like the others informed you are here, in case they wished to meet you?" the clerk says. Jacobi looks back at Fallon. Fallon frowns for a moment, then takes a look around the hotel lobby. Then he nods to Jacobi. Spotting the entrances and exits is child's play for Fallon by now. No obvious exits to the street save the way they went through, although that servants' corridor that runs to the left almost certainly has an egress at some point. There are several points of exit to other parts of the hotel, to a ballroom, to the rear where the stairs must be. Spotting armed guards, especially ones trying to keep themselves hidden, is a little more difficult, but the individual standing off near a set of chairs with a few hotel patrons? Definitely security. There is another of his type lurking near the door to the ballroom. In both cases, Fallon would guess they both have physical training, and perhaps guns as well. "Yes," Jacobi says. "That would be welcome. I assume that such fraternization is permitted and encouraged under the auspices of the High Reeve?" "Nicholas," the clerk says offhandedly to one of the bell boys. "Go and inform the other guests of the High Reeve of our new arrivals. They may be preparing for the ball, leave a note if you must. Scoot." The young man scurries off. "We do not often get so many here at one time," the clerk says, returning his attention to Fallon and Jacobi. "And it seems that the High Reeve has invited those new to their ... position." He looks at Jacobi and Fallon. "Is that the case for the two of you?" Fallon turns back from his observations and eyes the clerk. "Forsooth, good sir." Fallon's Irish accent comes through thickly. "Might we have our keys and room numbers." The clerk does provide old fashioned keys for Jacobi and Fallon, adjoining rooms on the second floor according to the black painted engraved numbers on the keys. Fallon turns to Jacobi. "I need to get something from my car," he says more quietly. "I just cross the bridge to get back to it, then." Jacobi narrows his eyes. The recognition in his eyes is obvious. "Right, you need to go get that thing. Right. I'll just hang about here for the moment, maybe chat up our friends if they come down to meet us before you get back." He pauses a beat. "See you shortly." Fallon nods to Jacobi, a grim smile crossing his face as he takes his key and heads for the front entrance. Fallon follows the same route back from the hotel to the bridge, he surreptitiously checks the shoulder-holstered Glock and feels the comforting weight of the .44 Bulldog in his ankle holster. "Better to be paranoid, than dead, Liam," he whispers to himself. He jogs back to the bridge, his senses ever alert to his surroundings. He slows as he approaches and carefully observes as he crosses the bridge to his car. Fallon does not immediately see anything as he makes his way across the bridge and to the car. He does have the sneaking suspicion that he is missing something, but he can't quite put his finger on it. It's one of those sensations he's gotten on previous missions when something was up, but he couldn't immediately identify a problem, or even its absolute direction. Danger? Threat? Yeah, something is in the wind. No doubt about it. Fallon has lived too long not to recognize his own instincts. Fallon pulls his Glock from its shoulder holster and quickly screws on the silencer, while stealthily moving to his Stingray. Crouched beside the car, keeping one eye and his ears on his surroundings, he checks it for booby-traps and bombs - both the driver's door and the undercarriage. After checking under the car, he opens the sliding panel that allows him to remove the electric guitar case from its secret storage compartment. He slides it out quietly and then touches a switch closing the panel. He slides out from under the car with the guitar case im his left hand and his silenced Glock in his right. He then backs back over the bridge and heads back to the hotel (even more paranoid than before, something has his hackles raised). There is no sign of tampering on his car. That might not allay his suspicions, but at least whatever is agitating him has not messed with him and his. Yet, anyway. With the guitar and gun retrieved, Fallon can return across the bridge, and head back into the town without any difficulty. By this point, Fallon does see that a number of the town inhabitants, dressed in what is likely their best clothes, even if a century out of date, are headed toward the hotel on foot and by carriage. There are a number of people already in the hotel, taking their leisure in the open sitting room at the front of the Hotel Palio. One of the servants comes up to Fallon. He gives the guitar case a wide look, gulps and then speaks. "Mr. Fallon?" he says. "Your friend Mr. Jacobi wanted you to know he is in one of the sitting rooms, talking with the other, um, people of importance." He looks at the guitar case again with a burning curiosity in his eyes. After a moment he looks at Fallon again. "Would you like me to conduct you to him?" Fallon takes another look around the lobby, making the necessary adjustments in his head for the added locals, mapping out escape routes and areas of fire. He then looks at the servant, ignoring his obvious curiosity about the electric guitar case. "That would be fine, thank you." As he follows the servant, his eyes take in the new people, sizing them up as he moves among them. Most of the people in the room are seemingly ordinary folk of New Deptford. None of them, to Fallon's senses and abilities, register as extremely dangerous, although a few of the folk clearly have bearing and manner that suggests former military service of some kind. These latter, when their eyes meet Fallon's, do study him as much as Fallon sizes them up in turn. None of them make a movement toward him, however. (Continued in Scionic Blast) |
