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At Bournemouth House:
Godalming *walks
hesitantly up to the door of Bournemouth House and rings the bell, the door is opened by a beautiful blonde girl* Excuse me, my name is Arthur Godalming, and I wonder if I can see Mrs. Abberline, please? She does not know me, but I am a friend of Manouche's as I understand Mrs. Abberline also to be.
Miranda/Metrea
*Looks at him coldly* Mrs. Abberline has been much agitated and she's been left in my charge. I will not allow her to be disturbed further today. You will
have to return another time. *A voice speaks from behind her*
Kat *Angrily* 'e 'ad no right! I'm no child and need
no keeper. I be perfectly fine. *Looks
at the man, sighs with disappointment* I thought ye were the delivery boy with
the ice cream. Well come in then, and state yer business, mate. *Glances at Miranda* I'm sure yer havin' somethin' te do,
eh? *Miranda reluctantly retreats to the kitchen.* Well man what be ye waitin' on?
Godalming *looks
after Miranda, steps in and follows Kat to the living room* I am sorry if I disappointed
you, Mrs. Abberline. *looks around him, notes the old fashioned big fireplace,
the Victorian rugs, the cream colored sofas* You have got a very nice home, everything
is so very British … I wanted to talk to you earlier, and Manouche took
me to the Apparition, where we met Captain Kidd, and she declined my request. It
seems that you are very well guarded. *smiles at her*
Kat *Frowns*
If Kidd were 'avin' doubts about ye, maybe I should rethink this and show the
door. Though yer lookin' 'armless 'nuff te me.
Godalming:
Let me try to tell about myself. Miss
Manouche trusted me, and she can put a good word for me. I was there when she
was released from the soul box by your husband and my friend Malachi. I believe
that Kidd's reaction was not directed against me, I heard that you had some sort of … er ... disagreement with your
husband that caused her to want to protect you. I don't think she was suspicious
of me, but of course, if you insist, I'll leave. I have studied the soul box
for a long time, and back in Fiji, I met
your husband on the same task. I heard that you were also there, and as it is
not a large place, it is possible that we have seen each other … But I
am doing research for a book, and since Inspector Abberline was very reluctant to talk to me, Miss Manouche told me to turn
to you. So here I am.
Kat: Don't know much 'bout that box and don't want to. I
don't think I can 'elp ye. Apologies, but that be the way of it. As ye can see, I'm 'avin' more than 'nuff te deal with, without spooky boxes, savvy? Now I do be feelin' a bit tired. If ye'll excuse me.
Godalming: I understand that you don't want to talk about it, and I am not going to insist. *clears throat* Now, I know that this may sound a little odd,
but actually, I did not come here because of the soul box, though I know you have a connection to it. I also wanted to ask whether you would know where I could get a photo of the Inspector's first wife Victoria,
simply because he doesn't want to talk about her, and now that she is the keeper of the box, I would need a picture of her
for my book. But that is not the reason I came here. *slowly* I simply wanted to see you and talk to you, I am very
impressed by you … Don't get this wrong, but I do admire you, and when you feel better, you perhaps would want to tell
me about your life as a pirate, in command of a pirate ship. *sighs* But maybe you don't want to tell about that either, now that you have given up piracy for your husband and
children.
Miranda/Metrea
*enters the room carrying a tray* I've made you a cup of tea Mr Godalming, and
Kat, I've brought you a nice healthy glass of juice. *Smiles, placing the tray
down, hands Godalming the tea
and Kat the
glass.* You do like juice now don't you?
Kat *Sighs* Aye, there be naught wrong with it.
Miranda/ Metrea: Well then drink it down it'll make you feel better.
Now go on, do it for your
babe. *Smiles, watching her*
Kat: I guess yer right. *Turns glass up drinks it down.*
Miranda/Metrea: There that wasn't so bad was it? *Smiles,
nods to Godalming and exits the room*
Kat: I'm not knowin' 'bout any pictures of 'is first wife but I be certain they’re about. As for piratin' … *Pauses* We'll see. *Rising she suddenly feels quite strange and reaches out to Godalming*
Something be not right … *Breathing hard* Help me. *Slides to the floor*
Godalming *startled, jumps
up and goes to her* Mrs. Abberline? Can
you hear me? *takes her hand and feels the pulse, looks at her very concerned*
I will call the ambulance immediately! *rushes
to Miranda* Where is the phone? Mrs.
Abberline ... she is not well ...
Miranda/Metrea: I told you she wasn't well. This is your fault. Help me get her upstairs. She'd be fine if you'd have listened
to me. Don't bother with the ambulance she just needs rest is all. *Satisfied that the potion she'd put in the juice had done its job.*
I suggest once we have her settled, you leave before Mr. Abberline returns. He'll
be most annoyed that you brought this on.
Godalming *confused* Yes, of course, I will help, I am very sorry about this, but she didn't seem unwell
at all. *after they have carefully carried her into the bedroom, he looks at
Kat* Are you sure that she doesn't need a doctor, in her condition ... *Miranda's look silences him* Once again, I am very sorry
about troubling her. I will leave immediately.
Miranda/Metrea * Waits until she's sure he's away. Steps to the door and
signals Carver. He appears after a few moments.*
Carver: Well?
Miranda/Metrea: Have your men taken the Apparition without any of her
crew escaping?
Carver: Of course, they be knowin' their business. They be ready te sail at a moment’s notice.
Miranda/Metrea: Good, things have gone faster than I expected. She's drugged upstairs. Take her to Marchand, be quick before
Abberline returns and get word to that ship to sail at once. I'll convince Abby
that she came to herself and fled to her ship deserting him* Smiles evilly* He'll never suspect a thing.
*Carver quickly gets Kat to the car and drives away. Sending his cohort
to order the ship to sail.*
At Marchand’s hideout:
Marchand: That’s enough, Nate.
Nate *holding
Manouche by her hair, she’s on her knees at his feet, and he’s brought his hand back to strike her again. He looks at Marchand, disappointed* But
I’ve barely touched her …
Marchand: I said that’s enough. Let her go. And close the door on your way out. *Nate
grumbles under his breath, but he releases her; turns, leaves the room, closes the door*
Marchand *gestures
toward a chair opposite his, with a table next to it that holds a bottle of rum and glass*
Go ahead, gypsy, sit down … have a drink.
Manouche *looks
up at him suspiciously from the floor, a sleeve pressed against her bleeding lip. She
slowly stands up, moves over to the chair, drops down into it wearily; reaches over, picks up the bottle, starts to pour a
drink but her hands are shaking too much and it starts to spill* Sod it. *she gives up, takes bottle, drinks from it*
Marchand: You don’t look so good these days …
Manouche *laughs* I looked a sight better when I first arrived, before I beat yer lil’ playmate. *takes another drink*
Marchand: No, it’s more than that. *moves
forward in his chair, peering at her* What have you been doing? Not chasing the dragon, I trust. That’s more my son-in-law’s
style.
Manouche: Was, y’mean. He’s not doin’ that anymore. However, now that
ye mention it, yer right … I ‘ave been indulgin’ in a substance, as it were.
Which brings me to what I wanted t’ talk to ye about.
Marchand: I’m all ears.
Manouche: I’ve learned somethin’ about ye, mate … between me time spent in
that box, an’ me recent indulgence, I’ve learned somethin’ quite interestin’. Sort of a secret o’ life an’ death, savvy?
Marchand: Is that so?
Manouche: Aye, that’s bloody so. *leans forward* I’ve learned what makes ye tick. An’
that means … I’ve also learned how t’ make th’ tickin’ stop.
Marchand: Don’t be absurd. You know you can’t
kill me, your weapons are useless. You know what I need to do to survive. The only thing that can destroy me is a shortage of victims … *smirks*
And keeping me in good supply is at least one area in which Nate excels.
Manouche: Do ye recall yer time in th’ soul box, mate?
Think careful, now. D’ ye recall a run-in with a certain cohabitant? One who per’aps fought ye a bit harder than th’ others whose energy ye
absorbed into yerself? *she watches his expression change from mild annoyance
to remembrance* Ah, so ye do recall. Right. Well, it seems that in yer greed an’ haste, ye wound up sparrin’ with
th’ soul of a very powerful shaman – one who, as fate would ‘ave it, was well-versed in th’ ways o’
necromancers. He weren’t goin’ to give in to ye without a fight,
savvy? So, unbeknownst t’ you, he took somethin’ from ye. Somethin’ powerful, somethin’ personal … that could be used to destroy ye. *she nods as she sees Marchand remembering everything* He
took a tooth. We all know how powerful personal items are in th’ dark magic
… an’ a tooth is one o’ th’ most powerful of all, beats hair, it can even be more powerful than blood. An’ now … after a bit o’ time spent in th’ box, an’
after havin’ dabbled in a most curious substance in deepest, darkest From Hell Court … that tooth has come into
me possession. Along with th’ knowledge o’ how it can be used. *takes another drink from the bottle*
Marchand *glares
at her* That’s preposterous! *he
draws himself up, comes to stand before her* Even if you do have this item …
what makes you so sure it’s mine?
Manouche *looks
up at him* It’s a funny thing about that, mate. Had it been an ordinary tooth, I couldn’t be so sure. But
if ye recall, there’s somethin’ quite unique about this’un. D’ye
remember? It had a fillin’. A
gold fillin’ … *wags finger at him, grins* Ye should watch them sweets,
luv …
Marchand *angry* So it had a filling. *sneers* Yes, I remember that. The tooth was most painful, and I finally
found a dentist who would take care of it for me. Very nice custom job, fine
work. He was a true artist … I almost hated to kill him …
Manouche *nods* True, it were beautiful work. Th' fillin'
bears a design, ye remember? Molded right into th’ gold. I reckon that were yer choice, weren’t it? Bloody thing
looks like a seal … anyway, th’ design reminded me o’ somethin’, so I thought about it awhile, an'
I put a few things together in me head, and ‘ere’s what I come up with.
Th’ design in yer fillin’, it looks somethin’ like this. *reaches
in pocket, pulls out piece of paper, her drawing of the ring Raven was wearing* I’m
right embarrassed that it took me so long t’ clock that design. But ye
can’t fool an alchemist fer long. It’s th’ alchemical symbol
fer sulfur, innit? An’ that symbol has come t’ mean different things
t’ different people over time. It’s analogous to th’ human
soul, fer one ... soul box ... an' th' energy o' th' poor souls ye absorbed. Th'
symbol's also come t’ be used as an emblem fer Satanism. So when I saw
it in this tooth that were professed t’ be yers … an’ then I recalled seein’ that same design on th’
ring Raven’s been wearin’ recently … I were convinced of th’ tooth’s authenticity. I figured that would be jus’ th’ type o’ thing ye would request in a fillin'. An’ it also convinced me that ye ‘ave somethin’ to do with this curse on Raven. *smile fades, she rises from the chair, stands before him, facing him, trembling* Ye did it, didn’t ye? Ye put a
spell on him, an’ ye used that blasted ring.
Marchand *stares
at her, tries not to show his surprise at all she’s learned; then he recovers, glares at her coldly* Well played, gypsy, I must admit. Yes, the tooth is mine …
and yes, the ring originally came from me, as well. However, I did not cast the
spell.
Manouche: But ye know who did …
Marchand *sighs* It was probably that stepdaughter of mine … Metrea. *shakes head* My, what a little family we have. Metrea is most impressive, her powers and abilities are extraordinary, and her control over them is sheer
genius. I wish I could take credit for her, but I cannot. Ama is her
mother, but I don’t know who her father was. Sit down, gypsy, and unclench
your fists … let’s continue our conversation in a more civilized manner.
*he turns away from her, returns to his chair; Manouche sinks back down in hers, grabs the bottle, takes another drink* So then … you know the ring came from me, and you have my old tooth …
but you still haven’t told me what you intend to do with all of this.
Manouche: I intend t’ make a deal with ye … take th’ power away from that
ring, an’ I won’t destroy ye.
Marchand: Rubbish, you cannot destroy me. It takes
more than possession of a personal item, you must know that. Don’t be a
fool.
Manouche: Oh aye, I know. That brings me to th' last
bit o’ me education. *swallows, stares at him, her face dark* I didn’t take that vile drug fer funsies, savvy? It
were an excruciatin’ experience. It were th’ equivalent o’
returnin’ to th’ box, an’ I didn't know if I could survive that again.
But it led me to what I needed t’ know. I come away from it with
an understandin’ of what I need to combine th' tooth with. Jus' a few other items, all easily attainable, as it
turns out … an’ then I recite a simple chant. It’s a very old
chant, but I were assured by th’ shaman that it would work. Jus’
think ... a simple ceremony, an’ no more Marchand.
Marchand *eyes
narrowed* You have nothing. You
don’t know the words …
Manouche *raises
eyebrows* Really? Blimey, y’
mean what I learned is worthless? Lemme regale ye, mate … *thinks a moment, clears throat, recites* Aux cieux, au puits à la fin du monde, aux
profondeurs de la Pègre, aux fonds de lacs d'esprit-rempli et aux mers, autour de la terre, à la lune et au soleil, aux étoiles
lointaines et de retour encore …
Marchand *panicky* Shut up! Stop right now!
Manouche *tries
not to show the wave of relief she feels, now that she knows that what she learned is true*
Ahh, so th’ shaman weren’t lyin’ to me! ‘Course,
that’s only part of it. Listen t’ this, luv, th’ shaman even
taught it t’ me in another language, I believe it’s Welsh: Adref,
adref am y cyntaf, Hwch Ddu Gwta a gipio'r olaf …
Marchand *hands
over his ears, shrieks* ENOUGH! *he
lowers his head, trembling with fury and experiencing the first genuine fear he’s felt in many years; composes himself,
sits up straight, looks at her, his anger barely contained* I could kill you
now, and these secrets would die with you.
Manouche: Ye must be fergettin’ that I ‘ave a ‘parade o’ heroes’,
as Nate called ‘em. D’ye really think I’d come ‘ere an’
face ye without ‘avin’ left instruction with one o’ me mates t’ carry through with th’ ceremony
if I don’t return? *shakes head reproachfully* Bloody ‘ell, Marchand, what sorta adversary would I be if I were that easily vanquished, ay? *she feels another wave of nausea coming on from the drug, and grits her teeth; she
shakes it off as best she can, leans forward, stares intently at Marchand* I
want ye t’ remove th’ power from that ring, savvy? Per’aps
ye can’t undo a spell someone else has cast, I reckon that’s true enough.
But ye can remove th’ power from that ring, don’t be tellin’ me ye can’t. If ye do that, it may give lil’ mate th’ chance t’ snap out of it. Am I right?
Marchand *nods* Yes, there’s a very good chance he would come out of it at that point. Especially with his dreamer abilities. *pauses,
thinking, finally shrugs* Very well. You
win this one. I can’t promise that Metrea won’t try something else,
but she’ll do it without my assist. Is that sufficient?
Manouche: It’ll do fer now, aye.
Marchand: Consider it done, then. *pauses, looks
at her* If I release you, how can I be sure you won’t return home and perform
the ceremony anyway? What earthly reason do you have for keeping me alive when
you know you have the power to destroy me?
Manouche *looks
at him steadily* I may ‘ave need of yer assist another time. I rather like ‘avin’ somethin’ I can hold over yer head, as it were. *she rises shakily, walks over to stand before him, holds out her hand*
Do we ‘ave an accord, then?
Marchand *looks
at her hand* I don’t think you really want to shake with me … it
would be very unpleasant for you. But yes, we have an accord. *he lowers his head slightly, concentrates, then looks up at her after a moment* There. The power of the ring is lifted. It’s now just an ordinary trinket … *smirks* … with an alchemist’s symbol.
Manouche: Good. Now, if ye’ll excuse me …
I’d like t’ be on me way … *her eyes glaze over, she brings a hand up to her face, murmurs* B-blimey, somethin’ ain’t right … *she steps away from Marchand, toward the door, then
drops to the floor, unconscious*
Marchand *jumps
up, moves over to her, calls out* Nate!
Nate, damn you, get in here, I know you’re listening. *flings the
door open, Nate looks up, frightened, from his position crouched down in front of the door*
So you heard everything. Then I don’t have to tell you we have to
get her out of here. We have to get her back to town, safe and unharmed. If anything happens to her, someone will proceed as she’s instructed. *scowls as Nate stares at him in astonishment* Don't just stand there gaping, you fool. Hurry
up … take the car, get her back, I don’t care where you leave her, take her to her home, take her to Chez Roux,
anywhere ... just someplace where someone will tend to her. Do NOT harm her,
or you’ll have to answer to me, and I promise it won’t be at all to your liking.
Hurry!
Nate *without
a word, picks Manouche up, carries her out of the castle, outside to the dark sedan.
He puts her in the back seat, closes the door, gets in the driver’s seat, starts the ignition, takes off with
a roar, heads toward town, his mind reeling from all he’s heard. So, Marchand
can be destroyed after all … as he reaches the city limits, he’s frightened, doesn’t want to be seen by
one of the more upstanding citizens, so he heads to From Hell Court, parks in a dark alleyway.
He gets out, pulls Manouche’s lifeless form out of the car, leaves her lying at the edge of the alleyway, still
unconscious* There, darling, someone’s bound to see you and give you a
hand. *reaches down, pulls her head up by her hair, sneers at her, though he
knows she can't hear him* We’re not finished. *he looks around nervously, jumps back in the car, takes off, heads back to Marchand’s hideout*
At Bournemouth House:
Raven *in his
room at Bournemouth House, suddenly feels very lightheaded as Marchand removes the power from the ring he wears. He loses consciousness for a few minutes, then slowly comes to. He
glances around the room, forgetting for a moment where he is, then he starts to feel steadier.
He sits up, rubs his eyes, hops down off the bed, stops at his door as he hears voices.
He opens the door just a crack, listens to Miranda and Carver, eyes wide. He
watches with horror as Carver carries his mother out of the house. He starts
to cry out, then changes his mind. He softly shuts the door, concentrates, shifts
into white raven shape, flies out the window to The Apparition*
At Rartigillichal:
Abberline *as soon as he
gets to Manouche's house, he sees that she is not at home. There are some horses
in the yard, they look at him wary and curiously and back off, watching him as he slowly walks across the yard to the pond
once again, he finds the same fallen trunk and sits down, lights a cigarette and starts to think about what he heard from
his sister, and he takes the French birth certificate from his pocket, folds it up and reads it once more. It could be a fake, or it could be just about anybody's, but the name and the date are his data.*
*He
remembers the letter of his mother - of that woman he used to think was her mother, and frowns. Now all those visions are beginning to make sense, and he understands that he was too small to remember,
and probably didn't even want to remember. He has no memories of his real mother,
she who was called Marie-Claire Vernet, nor of that other woman, her sister, his aunt, or that little house by the mill pond. He knows that the frightened boy with those dark eyes, so like Raven, was himself,
and he feels compassion for the boy, but then he smiles, amused. Compassion for
himself as a kid? He lights another cigarette.*
*The water is calm and
quiet and dark as he glances warily at it. What good would it be to remember
a forgotten mother? He is sure that his mother - the woman he used to call mother
- sent him the package just to take a revenge on him for his father's untimely death and throw him off balance, but still
he begins to feel curiosity toward the package he gave Raven. Maybe he could
even find out something more, after all, his aunt, Chantal - now where did that name come from? - could be alive and found. Then he brushes the thought away. What
use would that be? His mother is dead.
Because of him. He lights again a cigarette, and an another one. No, he definitely does not want to remember or know more. He looks at the birth certificate and thinks of ripping it and throwing it into the pond, but with a sigh
he folds it and puts it into his pocket. It does not change his identity nor
his personality a bit. Nor make him feel better.
He is relieved to be alone, and he doesn't intend to wait for Manouche, but he feels very reluctant to leave, and he
opens his cigarette case and looks at the silver hoop he carries with him, picks yet one cigarette, starts to smoke, staring
at the unmoving pond.*
Courbet *coming to feed the horses, sees Abberline, approaches
him* Who are you, can I help you?
Abberline *waked up from
his reveries, starts, jumps up* Who the hell are you, and what are you doing
here? I have all the right to be here.
*eyes him suspiciously*
Courbet *holds
hand up, his expression mild* No worries, no need to be so jumpy. I’m an old friend of Manouche’s, and she asked me to keep an eye on things here while she’s
gone. *looks at him carefully, nods* Yes,
you’re all right, I can see that. If you know her well, you probably know
her history … my family took her in when she was a child. *motions past
the gate at the edge of the property* My camp is over that way, just beyond the
fence. I’ve just come to check up on the horses. I assume she’s not back yet. *takes out cigarettes,
lights one, offers one to Abberline* And who are you?
Abberline *takes the offered
cigarette* Inspector Abberline. A
friend of Manouche's. I'm sorry. I've
just never seen anybody here. I sometimes come over here to think in peace. I don't know where she is or when she will be back.
*eyes him without hostility, curiously* I know something about her, but
apparently not everything. You didn't tell your name.
Courbet *grins* Sorry … name’s Courbet. *looks
around* I can see why you like to come here, it’s very peaceful. I’m glad to see that she’s doing well, she’s had a hard way of it in the past. You should’ve seen her when we found her in the woods, years ago, she was just a little girl, all
alone … she was so frightened, she had lost her brother … terrible tragedy … *pauses, then looks at Abberline
again* Wait, did you say Abberline? I
know who you are. She told me about you.
She mentioned a few friends who may come by, you were one of them. Take
your time, stay as long as you like. *looks out toward the front of the property* She didn’t say where she was going, or for how long. *sighs* I suppose she still takes foolish chances …
Abberline *smiles* I heard
about what happened to her brother ... Yes, I believe that is her way to live, I hoped she would set down to live a more peaceful
life when she bought this property, but it must be the pirate in her making her restless. *sighs* I should know that, being
married to a pirate. *casts a glance at the pond* Say, have you sensed anything
special around this pond? Like ... like something in it ... as if there was a spell … *stops, remembers Gili's
words about Raven and the spell* Oh gods, how could I forget! I have to go back home immediately.
Courbet *concerned* Something wrong? Sorry, don’t mean
to pry … *looks at the pond* I’ve never spent much time around this
pond, so I can’t say if there’s anything special about it. *pats
him on the shoulder* But you need to tend to something, I can see that. I hope everything’s all right with you, Mr. Abberline … come back another
time, we can talk more. And … maybe Manouche will be back by then. I’ll be sure to tell her you stopped by.
Abberline: I hope she's all right and shows up here soon. Tell me if
you feel anything odd around that pond ... I really have to go now. *takes fast
his leave back home, still wondering how he could forget about Raven being under a spell, he feels a sting of conscience,
as if he didn't care more about his own son ... *
At From Hell Court / Dean Corso’s secret secret hangout:
Dean Corso *sneaking out
from a door, looking around warily, steps out and stumbles on something on the alleyway*
Bloody drunks and druggies ... * he loses the valuable little box he is carrying, the one he managed to snatch from
the intoxicated owner a moment ago, and as he stoops to pick it up again, he looks closer at the seemingly lifeless body* Bloody hell, Manouche? *he looks once
again around, and there is no one in view, he intends first to leave her lying, because Manouche means trouble, and sooner
or later someone is bound to find her; but then he starts to think, nods to himself, drags her up, after all, rescuing her
might turn useful for him in the end ... * Come on, girl, this ain't the right
place for you. *shakes her until her eyes slowly open* I heard you were on the drugs, but I thought that was in the past already. Can you walk a few steps? See, I can't go back to that bar
over there ... I've got a hideout here near in that basement. *points some ten steps away, starts to walk, supporting her, gets the key and opens the door, releasing
her and she slumps back on the ground. He sighs and picks her up by the waist,
carries her in and closes the door. The hideout is a single gloomy room with
a couch apparently stolen from a Chinese den. Corso puts her down on it and fetches
a glass of water, not knowing what to do, empties the water on her face, hoping it will wake her up*
Manouche *coughing
and spluttering, eyes flutter open, she looks around, dazed* Bloody ‘ell,
where am I … *voice trails off as she looks up, surprised* Dean Corso! What th’ … how’d I get ‘ere? Last I remember, I was … *she starts to sit up, then groans, sinks back down,
propping herself up on her elbows* Where are we, mate? *manages a weak grin* It sure as ‘ell ain’t Chateau
Blanchefort …
Corso *grins* Yes, it ain't the castle, but one tends to learn from previous mistakes, and seeing that I am so amazingly
popular these days, I keep nowadays a few hideouts here and there. *lights some
candles and pulls the shutter closed on the single small extremely dirty window on level with the sidewalk* I am sorry if you don't like the surroundings, but I am sure you'd rather be on the sofa than on the street. Stoned, are you? I can't deny I am very
curious about what you last remember. It seems to me that you've been hanging
too much with that blasted Abberline. Watch out, or you’ll become a junkie
too.
Manouche *brings
a hand up to her eyes, winces* I … I were on th’ street? *pauses, thinks* It ain’t like that, mate. Fer one thing, I don’t think th’ Inspector’s touched th’ stuff in a long time. As fer what I were doin’ … I, ah … I took somethin’ to help
me find an answer … an answer to a riddle, I reckon ye could say. *everything
slowly starts to come back to her* I were at Marchand’s … but I don’t
know how I got back from there. I must’ve passed out. *slowly sits up, glances around, then looks at Corso* I ain’t
complainin’ about th’ surroundin’s, mate. An’ if ye literally
picked me up off th’ street, then I’m obliged, I appreciate it. *runs
a hand through her hair* I don’t suppose ye ‘ave anythin’ to
drink ‘ere, do ye? I’m a bit shaky, an’ could use a bracer,
as it were.
Corso *I take it you mean
anything else than water. Sure, what would you prefer, brandy, whisky, a Chateau
de Blanchefort wine? I think brandy would be the best choice. *goes to the side table and pours from the bottle into two glasses, hands her the other* That's what they all say, looking for answers or trying to get rid of questions. Watch out for that stuff, once a junkie, always a junkie … So, what should I do with you? You can't go home on your own like that. Should I take you
to Malachi?
Manouche *takes
the glass, hears his words, thinks of arguing the point, that it wasn’t junkie behavior on her part at all; but she’s
too tired to engage in the discussion with him. And she doesn’t want to
reveal too much about the drug she took, or where she got it, because she doesn’t want to get Boadicea in trouble. So she nods meekly* Aye … right,
mate, I’ll be careful. *takes a drink, grateful for the warmth that spreads
through her from the fine brandy, feels her muscles relax* Blimey, this is good
stuff, this is. Reminds me o’ what Mr. Blake would’ve chosen …
*voice trails off, she lowers her eyes for a moment, then looks back up at Corso* Malachi
ain’t about. He’s been gone fer a time, I’m not sure where
he went, I been tryin’ to see him fer days. He may be showin’ that
nice Mr. Godalming around. He’s a fine bloke, he’s been stayin’
with Malachi, an’ I ain’t seen either of ‘em fer a time. *thinks
for a moment* I know where I’d like t’ go. I’d like to go to Willy an’ Madame. Even if they’re
out, th’ oompas’ll let me in, an’ I ‘ave a room there, it’s always ready fer me. Would ye take me there, mate? Or hail a taxi fer me, an’
I’ll get there on me onesies. *reaches out, puts a hand on his arm, smiles* An’ I thank ye fer yer assist, Dean. Most
kind o’ ye, I won’t ferget it.
Corso: I'll take you a taxi, I got to stay low for a while, but I don't want to go into details. *takes his cell phone and calls DeNiro* As for thanks, the
only thing I ask from you is that you remember that I helped you. I've no need
to hide from you that I did because it could be later of use for me. But as you
know you can always trust me. *grins* It's
the honest ones you got to watch out for.
Manouche *shakes
her head, grins* Aye, I know. I
can always trust ye t’ behave jus’ like Dean Corso. But I’m
obliged anyway, regardless o’ yer reasons. *slowly stands up, walks outside,
sees DeNiro’s cab pull up; she gets in, asks him to take her to the Wonkas’ factory*
At Bournemouth House:
Abberline *out of breath
when he arrives at Bournemouth House, and he feels on the doorstep that something bad has happened. He opens the door and sees Miranda, rushes up the stairs only to see that both Raven and Kat are away,
turns back to Miranda* Where are they both? I
left Kat in your charge, you know that she should not move around too much now. Where
are they?
Miranda/Metrea: I tried. I did all I could. She would not listen.
She said she'd had enough. It was
over. She was setting sail for Tortuga and never coming back. As for Raven, I don't know, he must have slipped out during the confusion. I'm sorry, I did my best.
Abberline *not believing
what he hears* Why? No, she can't
have deserted me for good, she's ran away many times and always come back ... She said she loved me ... Miranda, what am I
going to do? She must be at the Apparition as always, I must fetch her back.
*turns to go*
Miranda/Metrea:
The Apparition has sailed. I told
you I did everything possible. Even followed her to the ship but it did no good. She practically threw me off the ship. I'm
sorry, but she's gone.
Abberline *stops* I want to see with my own eyes that the Apparition is really gone. I
am going to the port. *leaves the house without another word for the port, but
he knows that Miranda would not lie to him, but he still maintains a little glimmer of hope until he reaches the port and
sees the empty place where the Apparition should have been. Slowly he sinks down
on a bench, too numb to even smoke* Kat, how could you do this to me? Why? *And then he thinks of Chiana, and winces of pain. His family is gone, his life is over, and he would have risen and gone to From Hell Court, but he doesn't have the strength for it.*
Miranda/Metrea *Smirks in
satisfaction, shifts to her true form. Gathers her things, leaves the house and
heads for Marchand’s hideout.*
At the Meadow:
O’Malley *reaches the meadow and quickly spots Father Connolly waiting by the large oak tree. She approaches the tree with caution keeping in mind Donnie’s warning about
the meeting being a trap.*
F Connolly *smiles* Hello Gracie, thanks for meeting
me.
O’Malley *keeping a stern expression* Wipe that
smile off yer face, mate. I know what yer up te … you an’ yer friends.
F Connolly *showing no signs of surprise* Ah, so you figured it out.
I thought you would.
O’Malley: Aye, I figured it out. Should’ve known from the beginning that ye weren’t helping me out o’ the goodness o’
yer heart. Well, I reckon I got somethin’ out o’ it no matter what
yer intentions were fer ‘elping me, eh?
F Connolly: Yes, I suppose so. No one does anything these days if they is nothing in it for themselves … it’s all about the
right motivations, really. *Pauses; seriously*
But I must admit you have me surprised. I thought you were smarter than
this.
O’Malley *Frowns* What are ye on about?
F Connolly *smiles cunningly* I wonder what would motivate
you to help us with our little ritual …
O’Malley *feels her heart drop as she realizes why Father Connolly wanted to meet her; staring
at the ground; her voice small* That’s why ye wanted te meet with me …
te get me away … *lifts her head, glaring at Father Connolly* The trap
wasn’t fer me, it were fer Donnie … *mutters* Ye bloody bastard. *O’Malley turns and starts running across the meadow as fast she can; she stumbles
over a branch hidden by the tall grass, but ignores the pain in her knees and quickly gets up and continues. She runs along the dirt-road leading to the meadow and quickly reaches town. Despite running as fast she can, she still feels as if she’s moving in slow motion. By the time she reaches the docks, the muscles in her legs are burning, but she barely notices it as she
continues on her way towards The Brave, hoping to get there in time. But as soon
as she boards the ship, she can feel that it’s too late. With a pounding
heart she flings open the cabin door and enters. Upon seeing the empty cabin
with chairs knocked over, O’Malley falls to her knees and resignedly she gazes at the empty room; her gaze fall on a
piece of paper lying on the floor; she picks it up.*
Grace,
We know there is no way you will agree to partake in the ritual by your own free will, so we needed
to find a way to motivate you a little. It’s very simple. Do the ritual
and Mr. Brasco will not be harmed. Meet us by the Stone Circle tomorrow at midnight. As soon as the ritual has
been completed, we will tell you where to find Mr. Brasco.
The Twelve
At Marchand’s hideout:
Carver *Enters
the hideout with Kat still unconscious, takes her in to where Marchand.and Nate are.* I brought ye a gift, mate.
Marchand *Turns
and scowls for a moment then a thought occurs to him.* This soon. Did Metrea follow my plan? Has the ship sailed?
Carver: Aye, all went as smooth as silk.
Marchand *Turns
to Nate* Lock her up with the other one, and don't harm her yet. Manouche will pay for her insolence when I'm immortal.
Nate: But I thought you needed Manouche's blood as well.
Marchand *Smirks* It was preferable, but the blood of another magi will do.
Nate: What other magi?
Carver *Laughs
out loud* Metrea, o'course, fool. I
can't wait to see the look on 'er face.
Marchand: As soon as she can slip away, she'll be along.
We'd best prepare her welcome.
At the docks:
Raven *swoops
down onto the dock, shifts into his usual shape, runs up to Abberline, exclaiming excitedly, trying to catch his breath* Father! Father, we’ve got to do
something … Miranda … an’ that captain, Carver … they drugged Mother, an’ … they kidnapped
her. I heard them, I heard everything they said.
I think … he … he took her to Marchand …
Abberline *not really believing
him* Miranda? Marchand? *looks at the ocean* But the Apparition has sailed as you
see … *turns to look closer at him*
How is it with you? *rises up with a sigh*
But I know that Marchand is after her ... We must go to his hideout, but I don't know what to do with him. Every time I have tried to fight him, I have lost. I am a
loser.
Raven: I followed The Apparition
… Mother’s not there. I wanted to make sure … I remembered
Carver from … *looks a little ashamed* … from when I ran away an’
went with the pirate ship. *looks up at Abberline* It was Miranda, but it didn’t sound like her. *runs
a hand through his hair* I … Father, I don’t feel right … *shakes
his head to clear it, thinks for a minute, then looks back up at Abberline again, tears in his eyes* I … I don’t know how to fight Marchand … Maybe we’ve lost … F-Father, what’ll
we do? *unable to keep the tears back, they fall down his cheeks*
Abberline *pulling Raven
into his arms* I am helpless against sorcery, magic and witchcraft, but there
must always be a way ... Maybe Manouche could help, but she wasn't at home, so I don't know where to find her. I know that you were under some spell, and that was all my fault, and she didn't even have to put a spell
on me to get me to act stupid. I don't know what else to do but set out for Marchand's
hideout, I know that he is bad, but could he really harm his own daughter, what kind of father would do that? But I want you to stay unharmed. You'd best go to the Wonkas,
that is a safe place. *he grits his teeth as he thinks about his own daughter*
Raven: A spell? *swallows, stops his tears* I – I’m not afraid, Father. I
want to help you. M-maybe I can find Manouche … *he hugs Abberline, shyly
kisses his cheek; he steps back from him, shifts into white raven shape, flies off in the direction of the factory. As he swoops down in front of the gates, he sees a taxi pull up.
He lands on the pavement, shifts back into his usual shape, runs to the taxi as he sees Manouche emerge* Manouche! *he runs up to her, flings his arms around her*
Manouche *startled* R-Raven! *she’s unsure at first,
then she realizes that Marchand must have removed the power from the ring and the spell is broken. Tears fill her eyes* Ahh, Raven, is it really you? Y-ye don’t hate me?
Raven: Hate you, what’re you talkin’ about … *sobs, clings to her*
Manouche *hugs
him close, smiles* Nothin’, lil’ mate, never mind … no worries
… there, there, what’s wrong? What’s ‘appened?
Raven: Marchand … I think he h-has Mother … Father’s gone to save her …
w-we don’t know what to d-do to fight him … *looks up at her* Isn’t
th-there something you can do?
Manouche *stares
at him, wide-eyed* Oh, bloody ‘ell … yer dad’s gone t’
th’ hideout? C’mon, we’d best go after ‘im. Marchand, that bloody bastard … *pauses, thinks for a moment, then looks at Raven* Let’s go to me house first, luv. *she takes his hand,
they climb into the taxi, she speaks to DeNiro* Take me home, mate, tout suite! *DeNiro nods, the taxi roars off in the direction of Manouche’s house*
At the cabin in Sleepy Hollow Woods
Donnie *has been tied to a chair by the wall in the small cabin; the men are sitting by the table
going over the ritual again, double-checking the details. Donnie glares at Madison* She’s never going to do that ritual of yours …
Madison *glances at him shortly*
Have you that little faith in her love for you?
Donnie: No, I don’t. She’ll find a way to kick your asses and make you sorry you ever set foot in this town. She’s smarter and stronger than any of you dimwits.
Gordon *grins* Sure she is.
F Connolly *enters the cabin; smiles satisfactorily upon seeing Donnie* Hello Mr. Brasco, how nice to see you again. Glad you could
join us.
Donnie *glares at him coldly* I hope she kicks your
ass all the way back to Ireland.
F Connolly *casually* I’m sure you do. *To Gordon* Did you leave the instructions for her?
Gordon: Yep.
We’re all set.
F Connolly *smiles* Good.
Meanwhile, at The Brave
O’Malley *Reads the note through again; tears streaming down her face; muttering as feels
frightened and helpless* I’m sorry luv; I should’ve listened te ye
… *she glances at the books scattered on the floor; resolutely dries her eyes*
All right Grace, pull yerself together. There’s still time te come
up with something. *She grabs one of the books and flips through the pages till
she finds a passage about the ritual*
…And the 13th – a woman of Irish decent, daughter of a witch and a shaman
– will summon the great powers and be a vessel for the 12 who will receive the powers in exchange for their mortal souls.
O’Malley *looks up from the book; muttering to herself*
Explains the black eyes I saw, I reckon. *She reads on*
…the 13th will in turn be blessed by the powers of the 12 combined. NOTE: In all
recorded cases of this ritual being performed the 13th has not survived. The powers have consumed her; she has
been unable to contain the powers. However, there is one record of a 13th who did survive in the 17th
century, but the validity of this record is doubtful and could simply be folk-tales of a “white witch with eyes of fire”.
O’Malley *eyes wide* Bloody ‘ell!
At Marchand’s hideout:
Abberline *follows the road
he took with Raven when he escaped last time Marchand, when he was foolish enough to be lured by Nate, remembering how easily
he believed that Kat had deserted him, just as readily as now, when he heard it from Miranda. If
he hadn't met Raven, he would have gone probably to From Hell Court to self-medicate himself, and it strikes him that he is
not free from drugs, that he never will, they are always calling to him, providing an easy solution instead of having to sort
out things, to feel grief and sorrow, and that is probably how it will always be with him. He
longs for his quiet dark den, and the peace in his mind that the opium brings him ... He has no idea what to do when he gets
to the hideout, the only weapon he has is his gun, and he knows it doesn't help much against Marchand. At last he sees the hideout between trees, and he stops to evaluate his situation. It is of no use just bursting in, but what else can he do? He
moves cautiously nearer the building as quietly as he can, trying desperately to think of some plan ... *
On The Brave:
O’Malley *sitting on the floor in the Captain’s cabin of The Brave, books scattered
all around her; she is reading in the dim light of the lantern. She has spent
about 30 hours going through the books reading about stone circles, shamans and trying to find out as much about the ritual
as possible. She has been trying to block out all the horrible things she can
imagine might happen to Donnie if she doesn’t do as The 12 instructed by focusing on finding a solution; a way to fight
them. But it seems impossible as there are 12 of them and only one of her and
odds are that Father Connolly is not the only shaman; in fact it is most likely that they are all shamans and much more powerful
than her. She has considered more than once to simply give up and do as instructed.
After all, the worst thing than can happen to her is that she doesn’t survive
it. At least then Donnie will not be hurt. However,
the prospect of what might happen to the rest of Deppville once The 12 has gained the powers keeps her returning to the books
in search of a solution.*
O’Malley *with only a few hours left, lets out a sigh of resignation as she closes
the book. She’s read the passage through several times without learning
anything new. The solution is not found in the descriptions of the ritual. She goes to the table and takes the bottle of rum. She
doesn’t bother with finding a glass, but takes a drink from the bottle. Feeling
the panic rise in her as the clock comes nearer midnight; mutters* Oh Donnie,
luv, what are we going te do?
*She takes another drink and dries off the tears that have formed in her eyes. She digs out her pocket-watch; only two hours till midnight and still no clue what to do. She turns to go sit on the couch and as she walks is about to stumble over a book.* Bloody … *stops in her trail; bends down and picks up the book and takes it with her to the couch. She takes a seat, sets the bottle down on the floor. A
smile of hope forms on her face as she gently strokes the pentagram burned into the leather cover of the book; quietly as
she opens the book* Aye, Grandmother, I get the message.
At Marchand’s hideout:
Abberline *approaches
the building, pulls out his gun, cocks it, and suddenly he hears a branch snapping behind his back, he spins around and points
the gun directly at the shadow emerging from behind a bush, he already presses the trigger, but a hand bends his wrist so
that the bullet hits a tree behind the attacker* Bloody hell, you damned idiot!
What are you doing here, you have ruined everything! Now everyone inside will know that I am here, thanks to you!
Ichy *watches him gravely* Let me point out that it was you who fired the gun, not me. And
I am very amazed that you, being some kind of professional, sneak around here on your own equipped only with a gun. There be vampires in these woods. *he
adjusts nervously the white rose on his lapel*
Abberline *sneers* Yes,
I'm sure there are lots of vampires and I bet they are also headless. Your equipment
of flowers on the lapel doesn't seem very convincing to me. Marchand is not a
vampire. Why don't you go back the same way you came and keep to the paperwork
in the Office?
Ichy *sniffs* Miranda has disappeared. Kat has disappeared. Do you think I could just sit doing nothing?
Abberline
*pulling him behind the bush out of view* I don't need you here, do you understand?
Ichy
*stubbornly* No. *he peeks fearfully at the hideout* I am sure that they both are there. You quarreled with her
again, didn't you, and she fled once again.
Abberline *rises his hand to strike Ichy with the gun, but once again Ichy
catches hold of his wrist that was broken, and he winces and lowers his arm* You
are wrong. And what makes you believe Miranda was captured?
Ichy: She was not at home when I went to take her out for the date. She would not have missed it.
Abberline: Ah, that's
evidence, indeed. *smirks* A fool
in love is the worst kind of fool.
At Rartigillichal:
Manouche and
Raven *arrive in front of her house in DeNiro’s taxi, they climb out, she pays him, he drives off. They run up to the main house, go inside*
Manouche: Wait ‘ere, mate. I ‘ave t’
get somethin’, then we’ll be on our way. *she leaves him near the
front door as she walks through to the kitchen, beyond to her lab, unlocks the door; enters, retrieves Marchand’s tooth,
puts it in one of her most secure pockets, with a fastener, along with the little piece of material she cut from his robe
hanging in the armoire at his hideout before Nate discovered her. Leaves the
lab, locks the door behind her, returns to Raven* ‘Ere’s what I think
we should do, luv. I think ye should shift into raven shape, savvy? Ye’ll be safer at that hideout if yer unrecognizable. Ye’ll
get there faster, too.
Raven: But how will you get there? I don’t
want you to go alone.
Manouche: No worries … I’m goin’ t’ take one o’ me horses. I’ll get there fast, an’ I’ll stop an’ hide at a distance. Then you can be me scout. Ye can fly
on ahead, an’ come back to where I’m hidin’ an’ tell me what’s what. Do we ‘ave an accord, lil’ mate? *Raven nods,
holds out his hand; she smiles, takes it, warmly shakes hands with him* Right,
let’s get movin’. *They leave the house, she takes Raven down to
where the horses are grazing, and despite his worries, he can’t help but exclaim in delight at the sight of them. He shifts into white raven shape, she mounts Peire, and they start off on their journey
to Marchand’s hideout*
At Marchand’s hideout:
Metrea *Stands
watching Abberline and Ichy. She lifts her hand and begins a chant. Both men turn towards the sound. Suddenly the Abby's gun goes
red hot in his hand and he's forced to drop it. Metrea smiles, as she conjures
a fireball in her hand* Now gentlemen, if you'll come peacefully, we'll find
your fair harlots together.
Abberline *gives
Ichy a murderous glance, then turns to Metrea* Metrea?
Ichy *growing
pale, feeling faint, grabs his arm to steady himself* Best to do as she says,
Inspector.
Abberline *with disgust, pushes him away* Look what you've
done. Metrea? Why are you doing
this? I don't have anything against you. I
just came to fetch Kat back home. You wouldn't work for Marchand?
Ichy
*grabs him again, tries to drag him along* Please Inspector, can't you see she's
a dangerous witch? *whispering* I
have seen the likes of her before. You better come along.
Abberline *once
again pulling himself free* I am not afraid of you, Metrea.
Metrea *Sends
the fireball into the ground at his feet, leaving only scorched ground. She quickly
conjures another* Then you can always die a fool.
You can't win either way. *Smiles evilly*
It's almost over.
Ichy *hisses
at Abberline* Now who is the fool? *to Metrea* Please
don't throw any fireballs. *yanks Abberline with him, approaches Metrea*
Abberline
*looks stunned at the burned ground and follows reluctantly Ichy, glances at Metrea* What
now?
Metrea: We go and join the party of course. *Glances
at Ichy* As for you, my pretty, if you behave, I may claim you as my own. Now both of you, lets go. Marchands waiting. *They proceed to the hideout and enter.*
Nate *stands
by the door as the three enter the hideout; he does an exaggerated bow* Welcome,
all of you! Marchand will be so pleased.
*motions for them to follow him, he leads them into a huge room with a great fireplace at one end, very sparsely furnished. Marchand is seated near the fireplace, in one of the few chairs in the room* Marchand, our guests have arrived.
Marchand *looks
up, nods* How nice. Right on time,
too, very admirable. But exactly what I would expect from two such fastidious
men. *eyes Abberline, smiles* And
how is my son-in-law today? You look a little pale, if you don’t mind my
saying so …
Abberline *looks
at Marchand, enraged, takes a step towards him, but Ichy restrains him* Bloody
hell, let finally go of me! Stop calling me that. You are not a father in my eyes. Where is Kat and how is she?
If you have harmed her in any way ...
Ichy *whispers to Abberline* Ask him about Miranda.
Carver *Standing
by the window, overhears Ichy's inquiry. Sneers* Miranda be no longer yer worry,
mate. She's belongin' te me. If
I were ye, I'd be a bit more concerned with yer own future mate. *Snickers*
Metrea: As I was telling him, any future he has a shot at lies with me. *Leering at Ichy*
Carver *Laughs
out loud* Honey, are ye in for a surprise.
Metrea *Turning
towards him* Now just what is that suppose to mean? *Nate slips in behind
her, bringing the butt of his gun down on her head. She collapses*
Nate: That was easier than I was expecting. *Joins
Carvers laughter*
Marchand *rolls
his eyes, shakes his head, mutters to himself wearily* So this is what it’s
come to. Like a scene from a cheap detective novel. *looks up, frowns at Nate and Carver* Both of you stop your
laughing, and put Metrea in that chair over there. *motions to a chair opposite
his; Nate and Carver quickly stop laughing, do as he says* Nate, perhaps you’d
better stand close at hand to our gentlemen visitors, in case they require attention.
*he watches as Nate brandishes the gun, moves close to Abberline and Ichy. He
then looks at Abberline* IN-LAW. Father-in-law. Entirely different thing, isn’t it? Implies
a legal arrangement only, laddie, that’s all. You work for the law, you
should understand and appreciate the difference. To be perfectly frank, you’re
not much of a son in my eyes, either. And for that matter, Kat’s not much
of a daughter. *smirks* Not exactly
a model family, are we? Ahh, well, I suppose all families have their little skeletons. Oddly enough, the skeletons we have in our closets are of the more literal sense …
*Nate snickers, Marchand glances at him, then looks back at Abberline* You’re
hardly one to tell me what to do with my own daughter, Inspector. But to answer
your question, she’s fine ... for now. However, I don’t expect
that to last long … you see, I haven’t stopped needing her as a sacrifice toward my immortality. And now that she’s carrying another one of your brats, she should be that much more effective. Two in one, as it were. Thanks to that
tidy arrangement, I no longer need that son of yours. *rises, slowly moves over
to stand closer to the fireplace, though there’s no fire burning* Which
leads us to the last component … the blood of a magi. I had thought I would
need the gypsy for that. She would be the ideal, because she’s more than
just a magi, she’s a dreamer, and has other gifts besides. Her powers combined
with those of your son was a most extraordinary combination. *scowls* I don’t like to think of all the times I’ve seen them slip through my fingers. *he shoots a withering glare at Nate, who winces; he looks again at Abberline* But one can’t waste one’s valuable time lamenting things that one cannot change, savvy? *smiles* It’s a new day, and I
now have everything I need. *turns, moves closer to Metrea, still unconscious
in the chair; he continues speaking to Abberline* My dear son-in-law, have I
ever told you just how proud I am of my little Metrea? Isn’t she amazing? She really should’ve been my daughter.
I don’t know how it happened, that I should father Kat, who’s so little like me, and that I should merely
be a stepfather to Metrea. *he reaches a hand out through the folds of his robe,
gently strokes Metrea’s hair, barely touching it* Look at her … beautiful,
smart, sharp as a razor … a shapeshifter who puts her brother Gili to shame. And
a self-absorbed, conniving brain that amazed me from when she was a child, and leaves me awestruck to this day. *turns, looks at Abberline* She fooled you completely, didn’t
she? That angel face, that helpless demeanor, the dainty ways, the expensive
frocks … all those nuances that you seem to think make a woman a lady, when they’re really just part of a façade. Although it’s too late for you to put it to good use, Inspector, I do hope you’ve
finally learned this valuable lesson – money, position and fine clothes don’t make a lady. I’ve seen guttersnipes in From Hell Court who were more lady than this one will ever be. *he glances down at her as she mumbles, starts to come to; then he looks at Abberline again* Anyway, as I was saying, I am most proud of her. I almost
hate to kill her. Unfortunately, she just happens to have something I need …
she’s a magi. And because I have everything else at hand right now …
and because I’ve grown weary with pursuing that gypsy, though I promise you she will eventually pay dearly for
crossing me … *strokes Metrea’s hair again, looks down at her, sees that Metrea’s eyes are open and she’s
staring up at him in horror* ….. ahh, I see you’re back with us, my dear.
You mustn’t mind Nate, he’s an impetuous fool. He loves the
grand gesture. Must be his former life in the ministry – he always did
savor the fire and brimstone approach. So you now know, my dear, that you’re
about to serve your father in the finest way possible … your blood will help make me immortal. *he smiles, bemused, as she sits up quickly, recoiling from his caress*
Carver. *he nods as Carver comes up behind her, lays a heavy hand on her
shoulder. Marchand then looks at Abberline and Ichy, who are being held at gunpoint
by Nate; smiles congenially* I see we now all understand each other. Any questions?
Abberline *clenching
his fists, listens to Marchand, glancing now and then at Nate, moves nearer to Marchand* Yes,
FATHER-IN-LAW, I do admit that there is nothing in Kat of you. And I also admit
that I was tricked by Metrea. Kat's and my daughter's lives are not for you to
take. I will put a stop to your fool's quest and you will wither and die. I am not afraid of your stupid henchmen. *disregarding
Nate and his gun, starts to walk toward Marchand*
Ichy *whimpers*
Don't be a fool, Inspector.
Marchand *shrugs,
looks at Nate, nods. Nate shoots Abberline in the leg, he cries out and drops
to the floor; Ichy runs to him, crouches down to help him* I don’t have
time for this nonsense. *he walks over to Metrea, grasps her tightly by the arm,
yanks her up to her feet* You’re coming with me, right now. Carver, Nate, do whatever you have to do with these two, just keep them out of my way. Tie them up, knock them out, I don’t care. *pulls Metrea
roughly by the arm, leaves the room. Carver walks over closer to Nate, and they
stand together over Ichy and Abberline*
Outside the hideout:
Raven *flying
away from the fortress as fast as he can, soon intercepts Manouche as she’s approaching the hideout on horseback. She sees him coming, gently kicks Peire’s sides to get him to stop*
Manouche: Whoa, Peire. *she slides off Peire’s
back as Raven swoops down, lands before her and changes shape, runs up to her* What’s
th’ story, mate?
Raven *breathless* Th-they’re all in there. *motions
back toward the fortress* Mother, Father … Constable Crane … I think
Miranda may be there, too. *looks sad*
M-my Aunt Metrea … I guess she’s workin’ for Marchand …
Manouche *wide-eyed* Bloody ‘ell. All of ‘em,
in there? Constable Crane, as well? What
th’ hell is he doin ‘ere? Never mind … *she gazes at the fortress, swallows, thinks for a moment, then turns to Raven, crouches down in front
of him, takes him by the arms* Listen, Raven … I want ye t’ change
back again, an’ I want ye t’ go an’ continue keepin’ an eye on th’ place. An’ I want ye t’ stay there unless somethin’ drastic ‘appens, in which case ye
hurry back 'ere an' tell me, savvy?
Raven: B-but what’re you gonna do?
Manouche: Bit o’ magic. It’s a bit
o’ dark magic, luv, an’ I don’t know how it’ll pan out. It’s
fairly simple, an’ if all goes as I hope, we’ll never ‘ave t’ worry about Marchand again.
Raven: Why don’t I stay here, help you with it?
Manouche: Nah, there’s nothin’ to it. Only
one sorcerer required. Two would be superfluous.
*grins* Ye wouldn’t want t’ be superfluous, would ye?
Raven *looks
at her carefully, not fooled* You don’t want me here in case something
goes wrong. You think it may be dangerous.
Manouche *clears
throat* Well, now, that ain’t entirely true … *can’t avoid
his solemn gaze* All right, so I am a bit worried about it. But only a little. I jus’ ain’t had much experience
with magic o’ this type, is all. No sense takin’ any unnecessary
chances, ay? Besides, I do need ye t’ keep playin’ lookout. I need ye t’ let me know if anyone comes out an’ is headed this way, ‘cause
once I’m in th’ throes o’ this thing, it’s best not t’ be interrupted. Anyway, I do ‘ave t’ keep ye safe. *ruffles his
hair* Ye ‘ave to be around fer yer baby sister, don’t ye? Blimey, what would she do without ye? No worries about ol’
Manouche, luv, I ain’t seen th’ incantation yet that could take me out.
*she hugs him, kisses his cheek, stands up* Now c’mon, off with
ye. Get back there an’ keep an eye on things as best ye can, savvy? An’ if anythin’ happens that I need t’ know about … or of
anyone’s comin’ this way … ye let me know straight away. Savvy? *Raven nods, stands back, changes back into white raven. Manouche watches him fly away, back toward the fortress, sees its shadow looming above the treetops; whispers* Safe travel, lil’ mate. Zhan le
Devlesa tai sastimasa. *turns to the task of building a fire*
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