Strangers' Way
21st of July 2006 A.D.
The trip starts, like most really interesting trips with an argument, specifically about who's going to drive. Harry sees no issue with driving a mostly blue Volkswagen Beetle with AC from the sixties though the heat of midsummer on a two and a half hour journey. Not that you haven't had your share of daydreams about being stuck in some too confining place with Harry, but there is such a thing as
too hot and sweaty. Part of you wonders if this is one last attempt to dissuade you from coming at all. Rather than accuse him of that you make the point that Mouse could be really helpful out in the boonies especially if you run into more beserkers.
"Trying to fit him into that car is a crime against dog," you proclaim to an approving woof from the fellow in question. "Look we take my car and you can pay for the gas, how about that?"
"Trouble is who's going to pay for all the electronics that get fried?" he argues. "Look I
know that my car can make it because it has for years. No to take more risks we don't have to before we even leave the city."
I know my way works so that's what I want to do, you hear in his tone.
"There's a solution to that," you point out, motioning to your phone. Seeing him shift uneasily on the couch you are quick to remind him. "You spent an hour in the basement looking at wizard books or whatever, did you find anything to say that what I'm doing isn't safe?"
"Absence of evidence isn't evidence of absence Kirk," he quips.
"Still not a good Spock, maybe a late season McCoy," you counter. "Look it's my car I'm gonna do it anyway, why not do it now so we can drive around in something that isn't pushing half a century and the cruise control doesn't get shot? You get to have more leg room I don't risk dad's insurance premium, everyone wins." You are pretty sure you could fix anything that might happen to your car on the road, even if you have to do it in the middle of the Illinois wilderness or something, but that is beside the point. "You can even observe how the Beige Wagon acts once it has been demonified."
He stops, looks at the car again, then his eyes go just a little out of focus, talking to Lasciel's shadow.
'Ooh... don't put petty demons in the cruise control Molly, I'm just going to have a chat with one of the sub-souls of the Fallen.' Admittedly there is a part of you that is more annoyed that you can't hear her than at any hypocrisy on his part, but
still.
"OK do your thing then," he finally says.
You get in and tap your fingers across the dashboard to the tune of
Black Sabbath's Heaven and Hell, humming along in your mind, calling forth one of Mikaboshi's hell to serve a better cause if they would.
Lost 1 Essence
Demon bound for 1 Week. Will need to be reapplied.
The concept of 'better' is confusing at first, almost shocking and by the time you still the confusion in the buzzing chorus the binding feels loose, frayed... less than it should be. It will last for maybe a week before the spirit is returned to your anima and you have to try again. Ah well good enough for the trip...
Now for the important part, who gets to choose the radio station.
***
"So what did the fey tell you about this guy?" you ask, as Harry finally relaxes a little and leans back into his seat once you are out of the traffic of Chicago's suburbs. He is not, you are relieved to note, a backseat driver, though he apparently cannot help but loom and make it really obvious he would like to say something.
Still between your new friend smoothing out some of the sudden stops and starts and using the warning lights to to signal when you are about to do something silly with the lights you did great for your first long trip outside the city without dad, if you do say so yourself.
"He deals with the same kind of spirits as Gorfel, uses iron to ward his house against them and the land spirits around here, the ancestor ghosts of the Mamaceqtaw don't like him much. That could also indicate that he's been messing with the dead which is a second connection to Gorfel and his lot."
"So we walk in, threaten him into spilling what he knows and then follow the trail where it might lead us."
"Hold on there, we don't know if he was with Gorfel at all, he might just not be liked by the local spirits and that's not a crime and there is no sense in making enemies over nothing," Harry answers. But is is Usum who, unintentionally persuades you to that side.
"Such petty conjurors are far below that you can count as enemies Crown of the Endless Night"
Probably not a good attitude to take going into this. Pride goeth and all that so you nod.
***
The town of
Menominee, named for the English name of said native tribe doesn't seem to have a lot of people in it, a lot of cows sure sure munching the still green grass along the creek that runs though town, but even near the red brick church in the center of town there aren't that many people on the street and those that are look real funny at the car with Chicago plates coming into town.
You wonder what they would think if they knew how strange the car really is...
Patting the dashboard in thanks you get out of the car to the none too well hidden stares of the locals. This isn't church so you had seen no reason to dress any differently than you normally do, piercings and all, if anyone has anything to say about it they can say it to your face.
As for Harry, though he isn't precisely inconspicuous himself he does get into talking to the locals asking about the local landmarks, playing the hapless tourist, lost and too proud to admit it. What he is really doing, he explains is getting the names of local landmarks which the Wyldfae had used to mark where the sorcerer lives.
"Why didn't you just have one of them guide us?" you ask, curious to see what the rebels and rabble of faerie are like. They sound like your kind of spirits.
"If a sorcerer goes to the trouble of making a cold iron anchored ward odds are good they have cold iron
weapons, around here cold iron bullets. Not worth the risk to save us a few minutes of looking like clueless tourists," he replies as you make a turn towards somewhat uncreatively named Catfish Creek. The bridge over it is a narrow slab of concrete, its barriers cracked and worn like the bones of some strange water beast left out to rot in the sun
'Old Man Matthews' is on the other side of the bridge, a widower who lives with his grandchildren according to a somewhat chatty fellow in an oversized football jersey. "Don't stop round his part, just drive on through and you'll find the main road eventually," was what he'd said at the last.
Indeed the house makes that impression all by itself. The facade may once have been white, but it so that must have been around the time that Harry's car was factory-new. The windows creek listlessly even in the almost nonexistent breeze and even the roof seems to be shedding tiles. Whatever Old Man Matthews does with his magic it can't be very profitable.
What do you do?
[] Follow Harry's lead
[] Take point
-[] Drop hints about Gorfel and his lot, see if he bites
-[] Pretend to be some kind of winter fey displeased by all the cold iron, that would give him all sorts of wrong ideas about what you can and can't do
[] Write in
OOC: I thought about giving a name vote for the car, but is already has one, it's just that it's alive now.