Lost and Found (Closed for Luna_Wolf72)

[fr33ks33k]

<<Ring....ring....ring>>

"Harvey, this is Cathy."

"Yeah, you're the only one who calls me anymore...what's the deal?"

"John...he's...well, he's off doing...his thing. You know how that goes. Anyway, his clients aren't going to wait forever. He said he wants you to handle a few of the cases for him."

"Same fee as usual?"

"Yep."

"You guys never pay me enough for the kind of trouble John gets himself into."

"You like the danger, otherwise you wouldn't keep yourself on retainer with us."

"Fair enough."

"Come by the office to pick up the details. Never know who's listening in."

"Be there in a tick."

Harvey slid his phone shut and deposited it into his pocket. Pushing off from the wall he'd leaned against, he signaled for a taxi. Several came to a halt, but the traffic bullied them back out into the flow before he could get in. Just as well. Not everything that looked like a car, was.

With a smirk, the nondescript man set off down the sidewalk, avoiding people just as much as they avoided him. Bump into the wrong person and you'd be sorry. He kept his hands in his pockets and his eyes on the street. It was a short enough walk to Taylor Investigations, Inc.

Above him, the moon looked six times larger than usual. It was as though it was closer. Much closer. It shone with an eerie light on the passersby and on the constantly roaring traffic in the streets.

Harvey himself was your average looking man; tall, dark hair and eyes. Long limbs and a matching torso. You'd pass him by in the street without a second glance. But if you happened to glance twice, and you met his stare. You'd know he was anything but.

-----------------

The steel door to the building that housed Taylor Investigations, Inc. was easily four times taller than it needed to be. Likely, it was four times thicker than it needed to be as well. The most unnerving thing about the door was when it scanned your mind to see if you were who you thought you were. Harvey'd never had the door tell him otherwise, but he had heard of a few schizophrenics that had gotten a one-way ticket to the Collector's old moon base for trying to break in. The heavy metal doors swung open for him after a precursory scan, and an unusually long welcome. Kind of like those awkward hugs that a few seconds past comfort.

He shook his head and breezed past the secretary. She was a hologram. Though she did have quite the mouth on her when she chose to be more than a pretty face guarding the desk. Rumor had it that the desk was really what ran the front office, that the girl was like an anglerfish's lure. Made perfect sense, considering the office it was in. Taylor always did like the weird and obscure.

The elevator let him out, though for the life of him he couldn't figure out which time period or alternate history considered death metal to be elevator music. Again, strange senses of humor abounded where Taylor and his lot were concerned.

Cathy greeted him at the main door to Taylor Investigations, smiling and sipping what he could smell to be a very strong drink. All vodka, no tonic. But, when it was always 3 in the morning, who cared what you drank?

"So, the client hasn't arrived yet, but that's typical. Her file says she's not from around here, if you know what I mean."

"Oh wonderful. Another lost soul, ready to be swallowed up by the darkness."

"You'd know about that, wouldn't you...Mr. Shadesire?"

"You know I don't like my surname spouted about all willy-nilly..."

"Sorry. So, Harvey. Wanna have a look at the file for the case while we wait?"

"Sure, why not. And...where is Taylor, anyway?"

"John's....busy. Indisposed. Yeah! That's the word he told me to use. Indisposed."

"Right. Well, I guess someone's got to keep the reins while he's off gallivanting. Might as well be me."

Harvey's dark eyes scanned the papers, revealing her name, a short history, the reason she'd come to the Nightside. A small blurry picture gave him an idea of what she looked like, though he had a feeling the photo didn't do her justice. They never did.

"You know, I'd always heard they'd steal the shadow right out from under your feet here. I never expected such a cliche to actually happen."

"Well, it would be an awkward thing to notice in the real world...even more strange to notice it in a place where the moon's so bright all the time. I bet she's freaking out right now, wondering if she grabbed the wrong train."

"I guess we'll find out soon enough."

Harvey took a seat on one of the lounges scattered about the ornate office. The paperwork had its own section, cordoned off from the actual living spaces. Cathy apparently wasn't much for filing or organization.

As if she could hear his thoughts, she perked up.

"Its really all taken down in the computer. Some relic from another world that fell through a Timeslip. But John insists on having a paper copy of everything. Something about death and taxes...I don't know. All I know is he pays me handsomely to do the clerical work, which I don't have to do because the CPU loves doing it for me."

"That thing is gonna float away some day. Then Taylor will really be up Shit Creek without a paddle."

Harvey kept leafing through the file, trying to get a good gist of what he'd have to do for the case. Lost shadow seemed easy enough. But then again, nothing was ever as it seemed in the Nightside.

 

[Luna_Wolf72]

Lorna St. James. Thirty years old and childless thanks to her inability to carry a child to term. That one flaw caused her to be able to add divorcee to her list of *accomplishments* as her ex husband did not see adoption as an option. So, when the wheels of fate kicked in with an offer to join a prestigious fashion house based in London proper, she jumped at the chance.

London, England. Home of kippers and museums. Of royalty and those who still used a form of cockney as a way to communicate. The home of proper English ladies and the males who pursued them. All in all, it was a different world compared to hers.

She needed that.

Lorna stopped walking and glanced around. Somehow, she had ended up in an area she had never seen before, at a tube station that seemed to be filled with a bunch of rather loud people in costumes. At least, she hoped they were wearing costumes. There were various smatterings of language spoken and an odd scent that combined something rotten and something sweet

She had no name for it. At all.

Putting her head down and clutching her knapsack tightly, Lorna proceeded to bulldoze her way through the oddly mingled crowd and walked toward the stairs that would lead to the surface.

"God, I hope I am not lost..."

She had only resided in London for a little over a year and she still had trouble finding her way from point A to point B. Add that to the fact that , for the most part, her work and home were no where near each other and it had made for some very interesting side trips she would have much rather not experienced.

Like now.

"Where the hell am I?"

Someone, who sounded vaguely like Michael Caine and LOOKED like a walking, talking corpse gave a light laugh and said~ "Why dove, you've come to the Nightside, so you have. Go on, take a look..."

Lorna stumbled up the last few stairs and stepped out...into darkness that was lightened by largest, closest moon she had ever seen. That confused her. When she had first gotten on the tube, it had only been a little after 4:30 in the afternoon. The moon and this sky~filled with stars and constellations she couldn't even begin to name~ gave lie to her thoughts concerning time and even place.

"Well. Dorothy, looks like you ain't in Kansas, anymore."

xXx​

The street was...busy.

Not normal busy but super deluxe "everyone has got to get there right now or the world will definitely end at midnight" busy. Lorna found herself unwilling, or maybe that was unable, to even begin to contemplate crossing it. After all, some of those vehicles looked wrong.

Very wrong.

It didn't matter. Crossing the street wouldn't make her any less lost and with no clear idea of where she should go or even how to go about getting there, well it made more sense to just bulldoze her way through the teeming mass of people until she saw something she recognized.

Maybe.

She walked for hours. Okay. That could be a vast overstatement but it felt like hours. By the time she saw a little side alley with a vague shape representing a door~her left shoe heel had broken, the knapsack had a huge rip in it and she was beginning to have a black eye (thanks to some asshole who wanted her money and was dressed in some sort of odd get up involving horns and the smell of brimstone). With nary a thought, Lorna turned into the mouth of the alley and headed for what she could only hope was a place that contained food...and vast quantities of alcohol.

This place was getting to her.

Upon entering the door, she noticed a set of old fashioned iron stairs leading downward. She used them and was deeply embarrassed by all the noise they made~clattering and clanking. Finally, the smell of smoke and the sounds of conversation.

She walked through a door and saw the impossible~

A mummy~barely wrapped, gone to dust and seed, sipping something from a flagon.

A werewolf in a black leather jacket, scratching at something behind his ear, with his left leg.

Some guy...in a long black frock coat...who looked like he had been put together with razor wire and strapping tape.

"Oh, fuck me."

Kicking off her unbroken heel, Lorna made her way to the morose looking man behind what could only jokingly be referred to as a bar.

"Please. Give me anything. I don't care what..."

Silence.

 

[fr33ks33k]

"You should choose your words more wisely around here...especially when talking to Alex. He's liable to give you a terrible drink. Terrible because it tastes like piss and costs an arm an a leg. I say you look like you could use a vodka tonic. I'll have one too, now that I mention it."

The grungy looking man in the black frock coat sidled up next to Lorna. She looked very out of sorts, and Dead Boy liked to mess with the fish out of water. Alex, the man behind the bar, gave him a glowering look but went to grab a moderately clean glass to put her drink in.

Spritz of tonic water and a liberal pour of vodka and the drinks were set before them at the bar.

"You ever going to pay your tab, Dead Boy?"

"Whenever I figure out something strong enough to make me feel for longer than a few passing moments."

"Never then, right. You'd think you'd choose your deals with the Devil more wisely."

"No, Satan had nothing to do with the deal I made. Trust me, I'dve gotten off lightly then."

The corpse-pale man turned his attention back to the woman. He smiled a toothy grin, one that was both unnerving and not quite....right.

"As you've heard, my name is Dead Boy. You look as though you don't belong here in the Nightside...so you must be the one. Would your name happen to be Lorna St. James?"

He tipped a ceremonious bow, revealing more scars and duct tape about his neck and shoulders. He looked literally held together by the mass of pins and staples and adhesives.

From her shell-shocked reaction and the way she gulped down her drink, he decided she was definitely the woman Cathy had said might come strolling into Strangefellows. The bar had a way of calling to the lost souls. Though she was not a true denizen of the Nightside, something was clearly....off. Dead Boy couldn't put his dead finger on it, but he knew it was there.

"Well, right then. Come along Ms. St. James. You're a long way from home and I've been asked to drop you off at Mr. Taylor's office."

He escorted her up the clanking metal stairs and out of the alley that nestled Strangefellows to its bosom. The teeming traffic was as busy as ever, but a silver figure came streaming out of it, bullying its way to the curb, daring any other vehicle to challenge its position. Dead Boy's gleaming car from the future opened its door, revealing the spacious and comfortable interior, complete with glowing panels with strange symbols and a steering wheel that looked more at home in an aircraft than a car. It hovered a few inches above the ground, propulsion system unseen.

With some gentle prodding, he got her into the car, making sure she scooted over so that he could get into the driver's seat. Though, the car did all the driving, beeping and blipping while Dead Boy conversed with it. If Lorna could hear and understand, it would be a rare miracle.

"Yeah, I know. Something weird. Which is saying something here. No, I didn't ask why Taylor's not doing the job himself. Not really my place to question the Walker, now is it?"

In short order the car bullied its way in and out of traffic, taking turns at angles that most people couldn't even see, threatening a few things that only looked like cars to keep on course. A sudden sweep to the side and they were at the curb once more, outside the large metal doors beneath the sign reading Taylor Investigations, Inc.

"Here you are. Go on inside. I believe they're expecting you. Don't mind the door, it's a real ass, and the secretary, well. You'll see. Good luck Ms. St. James. Here in the Nightside, we take survival of the fittest to the extreme. I hope whoever Taylor has working your case is even a fraction as good at this job as he is.'

With that, the silver door of Dead Boy's car slammed shut and the silver bullet of a vehicle darted back out into the violence of the traffic, disappearing from view.

 

[Luna_Wolf72]

'Well, THAT was...entertaining...'

The thought had a bit of bite to it, mostly because it was NOT true. It hadn't been entertaining in the least. It had been, in a word, odd. The male figure who had swooped in to rescue her had been more than she could have reasonably been expected to handle, sober. It was possible that he would have been too much for anyone to handle, dead drunk and unable to see anything but quivering lines and blurred colors.

'Dead Boy? Who would ever call themselves...that?? And his car?'

Turning herself, round about, she focused on the huge door just a few strides away. It was shiny. Steel. And it seemed to have the beginnings of a face? She walked toward it quickly and was halted by a sound. A slight click. A muted metallic giggling. Then the door swung open. Taking her courage in hand, she walked quickly inside.

There was a woman sitting behind a hugely ornate desk. The woman flickered briefly and then gave a toss of her too perfect head. Lorna took that as her cue to continue onward, post haste. She did so, vaguely shocked by how calm she seemed to be concerning all of the weirdness.

A short hallway led to an elevator. Before pushing the button to go up, Lorna used the shiny surface to give herself a quick once over. She looked horrendous! Her hair, coal black and usually pulled into a sensible bun, was a riotous mess of curls. Her gray fitted linen suit was a disaster of holes, dirt and other things she didn't want to look too closely at. Her face...oh gods, her face! Wide gray eyes seemed to be the only thing on her face that had retained their normal coloration. Everything else had turned vivid greenish yellow which clashed horribly with her cafe au lait skin tone.

Lorna wanted to cry.

Instead, she dug into her knapsack and pulled out a brush so that she could try and contain some of the mess. It made it worse. After five minutes of fruitless battle, the woman gave it up as a lost cause and pushed the up button. A soothing alto voice spoke up then.

"Well, it certainly took you long enough, didn't it?"

The doors shut. The elevator rose and Lorna could feel her heart beating, just by her knees.

The trip took no time and when she stepped from the elevator, she found herself in another lobby, facing a door that read, simply Taylor Investigations. She headed for it, at speed, and then stopped just outside the door way. Did one knock on an office door like this or did one simply walk in? After a moment's hasty debate, she chose the second option and pushed the door...open.

"Um. Hello? I am Lorna St. James and I seem to be a little...lost."

Her words trailed off as she took in the young woman seated behind a desk, sipping something from a coffee mug. She didn't look the sort to be a Girl Friday~too bubbly by half with an absolutely killer grin. Her gray eyes then moved to take in the rest of the office.

Papers stacked in piles that seemed like they had grown roots where they listed.
Oddly shaped computers.
Plants that didn't look like anything she'd EVER recognize.
And a man, in a chair, who was giving her a very thorough once over.

"So, Dead Boy~I assume you know him? Well, he scooped me up and brought me to you..."

That's when she felt it. The beginnings of a quiver in her chin. Then her vision got blurry and she found herself unable to draw a deep breath. Soon enough, tears...which lead rapidly to hysterics.

"What the fuck is the Nightside and WHY am I HERE!!!???"

She had had enough.

 

[fr33ks33k]

Harvey looked up from her file and saw that the picture indeed did her no justice. Even as beaten down as she appeared. The Nightside was not a kind mistress and it showed in the disheveled woman standing before them. Even so, she seemed to be of good breeding; high cheekbones and a slender figure. Probably could've been a model. Gray eyes that held a lot more than sight within. He thought about his own eyes and quickly glanced back down before he could see too much.

Her voice was strong for the first sentence, then a chord broke and she began sobbing. Another effect the Nightside had on normal people. As Cathy and Harvey both rose to comfort her, he noticed that she, in fact, had no shadow to speak of. The way the light fell meant that everything here cast at least a small shade behind itself. This woman had no such attachment.

"Well, Dead Boy...there could have been worse escorts. Yes, I know him. So does Taylor...and as for the Nightside..."

Harvey trailed off as he thought of the best way to describe the oldest city in England, and perhaps the world.

"Let's just say it's a place outside of normalcy. A place where all the things that go bump in the night reside, out of the view of the prying eyes of humanity. You're here because you've lost something."

It was at that moment that he wondered if she even knew her shadow was gone. It was such a trivial thing; not many people would notice if it were missing. At least, not out in London proper.

Harvey's eyes were again drawn to Lorna's. It was like a magnet kept pulling him in, beckoning him to stare into her eyes, her soul. His own eyes were so dark as to seem to suck in all the light around, leaving small silver flecks in them, like stars twinkling in the vastness of space. It unnerved most people when they first saw them. What got them more was what he could do with his stare.

Once he realized he was doing it again, he broke the gaze and ushered Lorna to sit in the chair he'd been in. Cathy was busy making her a coffee or something to calm her nerves, still sipping away on her own drink.

Harvey stood before Lorna, an inquisitive furrow marring his brow.

"Tell me Ms. St. James, had you noticed anything...missing...from your person?"

 

[Luna_Wolf72]

One moment she was on her feet, struggling mightily to not fall down, curl into a little ball and whimper like a baby. The next found her ensconced in the man's chair with the bubbly female making cooing noises at her and bustling around to find a clean mug for something~ "You just need a little bit of a tipple, is all. It'll have you right as rain in no time..."~soothing.

Lorna felt overwhelmed.

And the man's eyes. They focused upon hers and made her forget what it was she was doing. Thinking. It seemed that they flickered off and on, like a neon sign. She could feel herself relax whenever he pulled that forthright gaze, away. His voice was calming. A low tenor verging toward baritone, a hint of an accent heard in the dulcet tones.

Words.

"Well, Dead Boy...there could have been worse escorts. Yes, I know him. So does Taylor...and as for the Nightside..."

and

"Let's just say it's a place outside of normalcy. A place where all the things that go bump in the night reside, out of the view of the prying eyes of humanity. You're here because you've lost something."

and

"Tell me Ms. St. James, had you noticed anything...missing...from your person?"

It was at that point that the young woman pressed a black and white mug into her limp hands. Lorna raised it to her mouth, automatically, and took a deep swallow. A few seconds later, she proceeded to gasp once she had swallowed whatever the concoction was the young woman had given her. It burned. Tasted of sour and peat. Oh...and tea. Finally, tears streaming, she gasped out an answer to the gentleman's final question.

"My guess is my mind, but one assumes that is the wrong answer."

Lorna took another fortifying gulp and scrubbed the tears away from her eyes.

"Maybe you could tell me what it is I seem to have mislaid? As far as I know, everything is as it should be..."

Her voice trailed off as her eyes wandered the room. The low light here left vague shadows everywhere. Even her chair had a shadow...glancing down at the carpeted floor, she noticed one odd thing.

"Where is the shadow for me? My feet don't appear to have one attached."

 

[fr33ks33k]

Harvey grinned at her attempt at humor. It dawned on her as she glanced about, the one thing she'd been missing and hadn't even realized.

"There you are. The one thing that is patently missing from your person. Though why it has vanished, I do not know. If I did, I doubt that you would have been brought here. This is the part where I ask you if anyone had motive to have you taken out of the picture. Jealous lovers, disgruntled employees, rivals in your profession?"

The detective's eyes wandered over the room, coming back to the large grey orbs Lorna held in her head. That damned magnetic feeling again. Something else was there....something that he needed to see. But it was rude to stare, and odd things tended to happen when he did. So he broke the look again and shifted his stance.

"Don't think any idea is too silly, too...out there. This is the Nightside, where anything and anyone that could happen, probably has. So, Ms. St. James...who would want to steal the shadow right out from under your feet?"

Harvey was wracking his own brain for a possible motive. There were any number of cults that prized shadows, any number of random gods from The Street that would like to use someone else's spectre as an avatar or a puppet. None of the big names would fit here, not for a normal person, someone from London proper. Besides, the Collector was dead. Or so they said. Taylor didn't like to talk about it. His brow furrowed as he thought, making him look a bit more angry than he intended.

 

[Luna_Wolf72]

Lorna listened to the detective as he asked the usual sorts of questions concerning something that was patently unusual. She could not think of one person who would want her gone from the World, as she hadn't been in London proper long enough to gather either friends or enemies.

But she couldn't discount the ass hole she had left behind, now could she?

"I don't know anyone in this part of the world who might want me removed from the land of reality. I am a transplant from the good old US of A and, to be quite honest, I don't really make connections with people~ negative or positive."

She found herself studying his features, returning again and again, to his eyes. Eyes that he kept hooded. Eyes that twinkled like a cold, Christmas night filled with stars. She found herself almost challenging him to look upon her, really look. Staring at him with forthright abandon, she tried to capture his gaze whenever it chanced to land upon her face.

He broke the look, again and again, almost as if he didn't want to see anything behind the facade that she offered to the world at large. It made her smile. But, then her ex husband's face springing suddenly to mind, wiped the small grin away.

"However, my ex and I did not part on the best of terms. He cheated on me and was caught at it. I took half his fortune and left his business reputation in ruins. I was the perfect trophy wife, you see? Except for the fact that I was broken. If any one could harbor a grudge, I am sure you wouldn't have to look much further than Mr. George Tremaine of the New England Tremaine's."

Lorna gave a small sigh and sipped the rest of the rapidly cooling concoction the young woman had pressed into her hands. Oddly enough, it no longer tasted like over heated cat urine and was beginning to taste rather...normal.

"The problem with him being the culprit is I don't believe he knows that I have left the States. Nor do I think he would have the wherewithal to do whatever needed to be done to make me lose such an intimate part of myself."

Lorna shrugged lightly and then rose, unsteadily, to her feet.

"Be that as it may, I am unsure just how my loss of shadow would prevent me from returning to London proper. I do have a job to do...."

 

[fr33ks33k]

"You're even more out of place than I thought...Hmm...we can't rule out your ex-husband. I've learned more than once that it can always the least suspected culprit. There's no shortage of thugs and creeps for hire here in the Nightside...any one of the up and coming entities on the Street of the Gods could have done this...any one of the down on their luck presences from Uptown could be responsible. I wish we had more to go on. Beyond what we can see here...."

He realized then that he just might have to use his gift. Taylor hated using his because of the toll it took on his body. Harvey hated using his because of the toll it took on other people's bodies. His stare was one that could go deeper than a penetrating gaze. It looked into people and found things that even they hadn't realized they'd buried deep inside. His gift was limited; it was a single person that could be seen this way. Trying to view more than one expanse was too much, he'd learned that early on.

Harvey let out a deep sigh and told Cathy to grab a few towels and to sit beside Lorna. Things were liable to get messy.

"Alright Ms. St. James...I'm going to have to do some digging to find a lead. Rather than just walk up and down the streets in search of one, I'm going to go to the source. You. So, I want you to look me in the eye and relax. Don't be afraid. I'm not going to hurt you. At least, I'm going to try not to..."

He trailed off as their eyes locked, held, focused. The spangled depths of his eyes grew deeper, almost as if the very vacuum of space was opening up in his stare. One instant he was seeing the room around them, the way her hair framed her face, the tiniest flecks of green in the grey of her eyes. The next, he was staring right into her mind; a bustle of confusion and worry, concern and purpose, all forming a maelstrom of thought. He focused harder still, his eyes unblinking as he swept the depths of her thoughts. It was more than just a psychic intrusion, it was a dismantling of all the pieces-parts, laying them bare on a table to be examined. It was extremely intrusive, but it was necessary to find somewhere to start.

And then he saw it: a tiny speck shoved off into the corner of her memory, away from the important dates and design information and the little secrets he tried very hard to ignore. It was a ring. A large diamond set in between two rubies. It wasn't any sort of wedding ring he'd seen before. Some kind of gift, an heirloom perhaps. Whatever its reason, that ring was a piece of the puzzle.

Finally, Harvey blinked his eyes shut and Lorna's head collapsed back in on itself, being just as it had before his invasion. Cathy handed him one of the towels, pointing at the side of her nose, where a tear might fall. He wiped and the towel came away crimson. One small price to pay for his gift. His vision was blurry and no matter how many times he tried to blink them back to correctness, they remained fuzzy. A few calming breaths and he could see well enough again.

Cathy seemed to have kept Lorna calm enough during his combing. Now, he wasn't sure what she would think, but if she hadn't believed in the powers that haunted the Nightside, she would.

"I've found our first clue. I trust you can now recall that ring. It must be important to whoever has apprehended your shadow. Luckily, there are only a few jewelers in the Nightside with a large enough reputation to hock such a fine piece. We can start at Nick's Gemcraft. It's just down the street."

He held a hand out to her. It would take some trust for her to come with the man who had just gone gallivanting in her head. Something about his brief visit told him that she would come along.

 

[Luna_Wolf72]

'Well this is getting me absolutely no where...'

The thought intruded, blaring in the forefront of her mind like some kind of klaxon horn. It made her miss the beginnings of the detective's ruminations and she found herself mentally hustling to keep up with the twists and turns of his meandering statements.

"Wait! Did I ever get your names? Either of your names?"

She wasn't sure that he had heard her and became sure of it when he looked to the young woman hovering unobtrusively nearby and asked her to grab some towels and have a seat. 'Okay, her name is Cathy but why will I need towels?' Then, his eyes still hooded, the tall man looked at her and said something so outrageous that Lorna was almost sure she had misheard.

"Alright Ms. St. James...I'm going to have to do some digging to find a lead. Rather than just walk up and down the streets in search of one, I'm going to go to the source. You. So, I want you to look me in the eye and relax. Don't be afraid. I'm not going to hurt you. At least, I'm going to try not to..."

Lorna felt herself stumbling backward, resuming her seat and then~

Eyes filled her vision.
Sound of wings.
The feeling of something that didn't belong, should not be here.
This is not possible...
Mind is rifled, raped, torn apart.
Return.
Retreat.
Sound of wings.
Eyes.

She saw a drop of crimson dripping from eyes that pusled and flexed like wild things and her fear rose up and clamped hands round her throat to stop her from screaming. He had hurt himself, harmed himself for...

"I've found our first clue. I trust you can now recall that ring. It must be important to whoever has apprehended your shadow. Luckily, there are only a few jewelers in the Nightside with a large enough reputation to hock such a fine piece. We can start at Nick's Gemcraft. It's just down the street."

Lorna thought back and saw the ring in her mind's eye. An heirloom passed down from mother to daughter since the mid 1800's. A gift from the patron of their family, back when women of color~those who had been born free~ were known to have little homes just outside of New Orleans and bore babies to those land owners who could afford a second wife.

She had lost that ring when she married the ex. He had said that it did not enhance the image of a self made millionaire~ to have a wife who wore a ring belonging to quadroon mistress from the plantation days. He had told her to be rid of it...and so she had sold it for a charity auction, never giving it a moment's thought after, not until now.

"That ring had been in my family for close to 150 years. I sold it for charity about eight years ago."

Her voice was quiet, almost shaky, but when he offered her his hand, she rose to take it without a second's hesitation.

"Lead on, at least with you around, I might not be noticed."

She hoped that would be the case but how could one even tell? This wasn't like the real world. It was the Night side and anything was apt to occur here, anything at all.

 

[fr33ks33k]

The ring had history. It was an heirloom, from a time when voodoo and magic were still strong, though they were practiced less and less. Here in the Nightside, those traditions carried on, blossomed into varying cults and religions. Those who thought the Loa were always around the corner. Someone even claimed to be Baron Samedi. There were possibilities in this ring's existence. Perhaps it had some tie to those magics, or maybe it simply was the last remnant of its recollection. Either way, it was important to Lorna, and to the person who had abducted her shadow.

With her hand in his, he guided them to the elevator, Cathy shouting something most likely encouraging yet unintelligible at them as they left. He was still holding the small towel, which turned out to be more a handkerchief than anything. He folded it neatly and tucked it into his pants pocket.

They didn't exchange many words on the ride down and the short walk to Nick's Gemcraft. The trip there was thankfully uneventful, though a few passersby did notice Lorna's lack of shadow. Some smiled, some frowned, and one even tipped his hat as a condolence. He seemed to know the pain of having an integral part of yourself ripped away. Harvey made sure to note his description. Never can tell, in the Nightside.

The door to the jeweler's business was decorated in gaudy red, black, and gold. There were cases upon cases of various jewels and gems and necklaces. Rings that varied in size and shape, with quality unknown, buyer beware. Nick, the proprietor, was a fat, white-haired man in an equally gaudy business suit in the same tri-color pattern. He had a smarmy look to him, all sweat and rosy cheeks. He oozed con-artist, though his business remained reputable. His face paled when he saw Harvey, but to his credit, he recovered quickly.

"Ho ho! What brings you here, Harvey? Oh, I see...new girlfriend? Looking for something nice for the lady?"

"Nick, just as slimy as ever. No, this is a client. She's lost...something. Well, a couple of somethings. One was a ring. Diamond and two rubies. Very elegant. Had a distinctive band...silver, not gold. Have you seen anything like that come through your shop?"

"Hmm...no...I would remember a piece like that. Sounds old. The diamond and ruby triplet is a traditional arrangement, but most people favor single gems now...if someone was hocking that, I wish they'd have come here. It's entirely possible that they would just hold onto it. It would quite valuable, after all. They say those types of rings were popular in The States, before they were unified. A way of giving a promise without the standard tradition. A band outside the classic diamond. The rubies were said to represent the blood that would be shed if either side were found out."

Harvey looked Nick right in the eye. There was an uncomfortable silence as the two men stared at each other. It was hard to say what the old man would lie about, but Harvey had ways of making sure. Nick blinked first, but it was long enough to know that he was telling the truth. It was hard to say if the ring had even ended up here in the Nightside, but Harvey's gut told him that it was here, somewhere. If not at this shop, then maybe at another. But the way objects changed hands, it would take quite a while to find it. Harvey's eyes closed; he could still see the ring, turning over and over in his head. Then he noticed the inscription on the inside of the band.

Vous ne pouvez pas presser le sang d'un diamant, mais un rubis pleure librement.

Something about blood and diamonds and rubies weeping...another clue, but one that he didn't have the expertise on. It seemed that he would have to keep looking. Luckily he knew just the place.

"Lorna, do you speak French?"

Without waiting for a reply, he was guiding her out of the shop and back onto the streets of the Nightside, walking with purpose toward the darker, seedier part of the city.

 

[Luna_Wolf72]

While Lorna felt oddly safe, her hand tucked securely into the crook of the man's arm, she still noticed that people had a tendency to stare. It made her uncomfortable and she wondered if her appearance had anything to do with it.

'Harvey. His name is Harvey.'

This thought came and went as they entered the first establishment Harvey had mentioned. The man behind the counter reminded her of an over fed snake, all brightly colored to warn one that his bite was deadly. His eyes didn't match his smile, nor did his face match the robustness of his body. He was...off.

She forced herself to listen to the conversation, noting with something akin to an inner shudder that the proprietor's voice made her feel slick with some sort of slime. He oozed untrustworthy-ness.

The detective seemed to be paying special attention to the owner's words and so Lorna forced herself to pay attention, as well. But it was a difficult task, especially once memories began unlocking in her head~of promises made to her mother. Of words spoken to the Loa Ochun.

A question brought her out of reverie.

"Do I speak French? A smattering and more than likely it would be Creole. Why? Do you know something that I could help with?"

She found herself being led from the store, her footsteps matching his, once more. In her head, the beginnings of rhythm, the beating of drums and words~words that led to a dance. She tried to shut those things away. After all, no one believed in Voodoo any more and what were words spoken to a picture, really? Only empty air. Only syllables spoken to please another.

'Is that why I became barren? No belief. I sold my birthright. Gave it away. Stopped allowing myself to be ridden...is that why?'

She opened her mouth to speak these thoughts but stopped. Harvey had made mention of the Gods here. Real Gods. Were the Loa here, as well? Would they have punished her for turning her back on the magick, on the ritual, on the belief of her foremothers? Was all of this her own doing?

"Harvey, is there a temple for the Loa Ochun in the Nightside? I have never seen such as my mother did not hold with much of our Creole religion but she was a worshipper, as was I~ when I was but a youngling."

 

[fr33ks33k]

"There's a temple to every deity here. You just have to know where to look. Ochun...hmm...I've heard of her referred to as Oshun here a few times, but gods tend to have many names. The Loa are scarcely mentioned, but they still have followers, even in this place that never sees the light of day. Ironically, our next stop is to a fortune teller. She's very fervent in her faith, and she believes she communes with all sorts of spirits..."

Harvey's gait was steady and swift. It wasn't good to let leads turn cold, especially when you didn't know the endgame. Whoever had heisted Lorna's shadow had bigger plans. It was starting to make at least vague sense in his head. Then again, Harvey always thought he understood. It was rare that his first instinct was right, but nonetheless he had to follow it.

And so, they walked right into the seediest parts of Old Town. This was where the slummers went when they needed to sink even lower. The bottom-feeders and the dregs fought for the last rung on the ladder. The people here all had fever-bright eyes and hungry smiles. They stuck to themselves mostly, but a few beggars had lost enough pride to approach. One look from Harvey's spangled stare had them backpedaling faster than they'd arrived.

The sign that hung above the door read Madame Harriet's. The building was squat and nondescript, but without even looking harder, Harvey could feel the power of the place itself. The ley-lines must run deeper here than other places, rooting strength and sway in this spot amid the decay and decrepit. The door was not a door, but a woven curtain, made of many different fabrics and beaded at odd intervals. It smacked of ritual and tradition. A low voice came from within, seeming to carry much further than such a slight tone should.

"I know yer out der. Ye should come inside, a'fore anyting in de shadows grabs ye."

Her accent was heavy, distinct. Harvey lifted the curtain aside and ushered Lorna in first. He was careful to check their backs as the curtain fell; You never could tell who was spying on you...

 

[Luna_Wolf72]

Somehow, she managed to follow his lead. It was difficult. Especially when the lights faded away until the streets were only lit by barely there glimmerings. The buildings went from half way normal looking edifices to lurching shambling wrecks that barely qualified as something a person could call a business, a home, a storefront.

She found herself swallowing down the fear that rose up and choked her, again and again. After all, there was no point in feeling afraid. She was with a denizen of this supposed Nightside and he seemed to have things well in hand. Even if she was completely unsure as to what constituted well in hand, here.

Finally, they arrived...

Well they ended up at which ever place Harvey had thought advisable for the next side trip into La-La Land.

Lorna allowed herself to study the squatting, seedy looking building with it's entrance that was barely covered by an old, multi-hued curtain. Somehow, there was feeling of power, hidden deep beneath the ground. She found herself unable to step forward and unwilling to go back.

And then...a voice.

She would have been startled had the whole thing not smacked of some sort of play by play on what made a good show for the newbie to these particular streets. She hated all of the theatrics these people seemed to thrive on. So, when Harvey pressed his rather large hand into the small of her back and ushered her through the curtain? She went.

The inside did NOT match the outside.

The downstairs appeared to be scrupulously clean with low ceilings. Though Lorna could only see two rooms, both were restful and decorated in cream, ivory, white, silver...restful hues, good feeling colors. The woman who huddled at a small table in the second room did sort of match the outside of the building, but just barely.

She was older with pale parchment skin, wide milky gray eyes and hair a burnished bronze that looked to have come from a bottle. The woman's fingers were curled round a coffee mug and she was covered in a morass of patchwork clothes~shawls, dresses...whatever came easily to hand.

"Oh my my. Lookie what the wind blew in. If it ain't Harvey draggin' round his newest little damsel in destress."

Lorna could feel herself wanting to huff and howl at the ignorant words but...what would have been the point. She was a damsel...and damned if she wasn't stressed. Swallowing down her temper, Lorna turned to the man with a plan and spoke.

"Why are we here, Harvey?"

 

[fr33ks33k]

As they entered, Harriet was sitting at her table with a cup of what was ostensibly coffee. Her voice had changed since they came inside, accent switching as though it had always been hers. That was Harriet for you...

Lorna turned to Harvey and asked what they were doing in this small place that doubled as a home and a business, but it was Harriet who answered her question.

"Ye be here to find answers."

"Yes, answers Harriet. You know a good deal about the Loa and their Creole following. I found a saying and I thought you might be able to shed light on it."

"Well, ya gonna tell me whatcha sayin is?"

The way she switched back and forth between her accents was too smooth to be faked. She was afflicted with dual personalities. Probably a side-effect of communing with so many deities, seeking knowledge no mortal really needed to know.

Harvey recited the saying, doing his best not to butcher the language. Harriet sat and thought for a moment. Then she stood up and went to the second room, which held her crystal ball. There was no ceremony to this reading, none of the previous allusion to tradition. It was informal, but just as effective. She sat behind it, hands moving around it after setting her coffee cup to the side. Weird energies crackled and sparkled within the ball, glowing bright then receding.

"Der be power in old stones...power over life an death...diamonds stand fer life, rubies fer death."

"Ok, but what would that have to do with someone's shadow? Lorna here has had hers taken from her..."

"Well, that all depends on whatcha wanna do with the life of another. The shadow's the anchor. It keeps a person centered. Without it, any number of things could happen."

"Bad juju. Dem der stones be a life line and a death knell for whoever dey belong to."

Harvey had heard enough. Harriet was starting to babble in both voices, eyes rolling back in her head. Something bad was coming. He tried to get close to her, but a spark of black energy lashed out at him. Harriet's body rose, a puppet to some evil thing that had latched on while she read her ball. It spoke through her mouth, but sounded like metal grating on stone.

<<Forsaken. You have forsaken, and so you were forsaken. You cast aside your connection to favor a man who cast you aside just as easily. If you want to find yourself, find your shadow. Find your life and death. Find me.>>

Harvey stood staring at the fortune teller as she returned to herself, shaken and visibly aware of the possession that had just taken place.

"Who was that, Harriet?"

"I don't know. Usually my passengers are peaceful, announcing themselves and leaving without harm. That was...forced. Who...or whatever it was...I know it was powerful..."

This voice was sullen, separate from the two previous ones. It was the one that most suited her body. It was probably her original. Though, now he understood the connection between the shadow and the ring, they were still no closer to finding either. They also now knew that there were greater powers at work.

Harvey looked to Lorna to see how she was holding up. Things were getting weirder and weirder here, and if her shadow left her as unbalanced as Harriet seemed to believe, then he would have to make sure she didn't lose all of her hinges.

"Ok, this is turning into a larger chase than I thought. We'll have to go right to the source then. The Street of the Gods."

 

[Luna_Wolf72]

The whole thing had been terrifying. Real but terrifying. Lorna found herself unable to speak, to breathe, to cry out, to run away. The voices. All of the voices. The way Harriet switched from dialect to dialect? It was freaky scary. The woman found herself hoping that it would end soon. She couldn't take the oppressive atmosphere, anymore.

<<Forsaken. You have forsaken, and so you were forsaken. You cast aside your connection to favor a man who cast you aside just as easily. If you want to find yourself, find your shadow. Find your life and death. Find me.>>

The words. Putting her fears into sharp focus. She had walked away from her heritage. Tossed it away without a by your leave and now it had come back to haunt her. The voice did not belong to Ochun. It was more masculine. Perhaps Shango~ Lord of Lightening and Thunder? Having never been ridden by the Lady's husband, she could not tell.

She did not know.

She could not say.

Harriet and Harvey spent a few moments questioning the words they heard, the delivery of them.

But Lorna KNEW what those words meant.

The Loa were pissed. Ochun was pissed. The Loa's temper, usually held in abeyance by her kind loving heart, had been released. It was up to Lorna to fix the fault that she had caused. Failure to do so would end in a death she could not even imagine. Lorna's knees began to tremble. Her heart raced and then faltered. Tears flowed freely, causing her vision to blur. The terror she had managed to hold at bay caused her breathing to come out in hitching groans.

And then Harvey nailed the coffin of her soul, closed.

"Ok, this is turning into a larger chase than I thought. We'll have to go right to the source then. The Street of the Gods."

Lorna hit the floor.

She had awakened with a whimper. Harriet hadn't hesitated to slap her into consciousness. After Harvey had paid for the reading, they had withdrawn from the tumble down place and retraced their steps back uptown.

Lorna did not want to think on the end of their journey. She did not want to even believe that, somewhere in this endless night, there was a street that could house the glory of the Loa, of the minor deities. However, she had no choice in the matter. The sooner they finished this, the sooner she could go home.

Walking. Endless walking. Until Harvey pointed out a small chain linked door. A sign just to the left of it read~Below Street Tunnels. He had ushered her through with a barely heard word of warning. Something along the lines of~"Don't stare and don't answer..." He needn't have bothered with the warning. Lorna found she no longer had the energy to stare or even breath to answer a single fucking question.

She just wanted to go home.

The tunnels that ran beneath the main thoroughfares kept people reasonably safe from the things that only LOOKED like cars on the road above. However, that didn't mean the tunnels themselves were safe. Crimes were committed here. Death, robbery, kidnapping~all easily accomplished if one didn't know the lay of the land.

Luckily for Lorna, Harvey knew enough about them to lead on with very few missteps.

She just wanted to go home. But first~

Street of the Gods entrance. Second door on the left.

The sign blared it's words into her skull. Lorna forced herself to focus, to breathe. After all, Harvey would help her. That's what he was trained to do. She would just have to trust him.

 

[fr33ks33k]

Shell-shocked. That was how Lorna looked as Harvey led her through the tunnels and out onto the Street. She looked beaten down and lost, tired and sad. It troubled him. Was it because the absence of her shadow was taking a toll? Or was it simply the awe that the Nightside tended to leave with people. It was hard to swallow all the strange goings-on that never stopped here.

Now, on the long road that led away to their North, various personages mingled, sometimes yelling, sometimes conversing quietly, sometimes not even speaking but seeming to share words with their eyes. Every few paces there was some crier for a deity, good or evil. Graffiti covered many walls to buildings, praising the rise of Dagon, warning of the return of the Old Ones. One in particular troubled Harvey. In Roman lettering it read: "Lilith still lives, beyond the reach of time." He shuddered visibly, still remembering the war that had nearly torn this place apart. The blood that had run thick in the gutters.

He came back to himself just in time to step between Lorna and a very burly looking man in nothing but a loin cloth. He was definitely a Neanderthal, but his eyes seemed more cognate. The broad-shouldered man smiled and nodded to Harvey.

"You probably don't even remember me, do you Harvey?"

"Can't say that I do. But then again, I've never been good with faces."

"That's pretty funny coming from you. With those eyes, I don't know how you forget anything....especially all the terrible things you've done..."

"Those, I don't forget. Can't. But such is life. Do you have business with us? If not, then we really do have to be going..."

"Well, no. Not as such. I simply noticed that your...companion...doesn't have a shadow."

"Very astute of you, mister...."

"Greg."

"That's not a very traditional name."

"No, but then tradition only dictates so much here."

"Fair enough. What of it?"

"Well, it has been a long time since someone has been stealing shadows around here."

"You mean that there have been other instances of this, here in the Nightside?"

"Yes. Long and long ago. There were many suspects, but no one actually caught. What they did with the shadows, no one knows either. Just that many people lost theirs, and after going so long without them, they went insane. Unhinged. Losing an integral part of yourself can drive you mad...."

"How do you know all of this?"

"People will tell a caveman anything. They think we don't understand; but people like to hear the sound of their own voices. So, I get some of the better info for that fact."

"I see. And why share this with me?"

"Because I've seen what you can do with those eyes, and I don't want to be on the wrong end of your star-spangled stare when the time comes. And note that I said when and not if."

"That won't happen. Not while I still have any say about it."

"Well, we don't always get a say, now do we?"

"Thanks for your information Greg. Now, we really must be going."

"Good luck Harvey. Remember, not everything is what or who they seem..."

Harvey ushered Lorna further down the Street. His eyes stayed fixed forward. He was thinking about what Greg the Neanderthal had said. This had happened before...what could the purpose have been? Were the Loa really so vindictive. And what had that been about...forsaking her connection. What was Lorna's part in the whole scheme?

While he was thinking, they came to a stop before a stooped old temple. Outside it was an equally stooped statue of an elderly man with a walking stick. Within the carved design of his flowing robe, a smaller face peered out. It seemed like a youth hiding within the folds of the robe. The young visage smiled mischievously while the old man's eyes were stern and wise.

"This is the place. I've seen this statue of Papa Legba before, but that smaller face is new..."

Harvey shrugged it off and led the way into the temple, which was darkly lit by candles and hanging torches. Something was...off. Even so, the two stepped down the short aisle of the temple and came to a stop at the altar. There was no one there, but the scent of incense was strong in the air.

"We've come seeking answers. Questions that can only be found at the borderline. We ask your presence, and your assistance."

 

[Luna_Wolf72]

The conversation which occured just as they began their journey along the Street of the Gods struck Lorna as being very disturbing. It was bad enough that the person speaking to Harvey seemed quite out of place on this time line. He was a Neanderthal, dammit! He definitely did NOT belong in the here and now. Nor should he have been speaking the Queen's English with a barely heard lilt that sounded vaguely Londonian.

The conversation itself meandered back and forth, like some sort of odd river with neither male admitting what they knew or exactly how they had come to know it. Lorna felt her ire rise at the whole sorry mess but she swallowed it down and allowed her eyes to wander. There were temples as far as the eye could see. Interspersed with these huge, monstrous edifices were smaller places. Here and there, one could make out the hustle and bustle of people going into, or coming out of, whichever place drew them. It reminded her of nothing more than a confusing bee hive.

Finally, the two males finished exposing their manhoods to one another and Harvey once more resumed guiding Lorna through the crowds gathered on every available corner or space. Eventually, they ended up before a smaller building. One that was guarded by a statue of Papa Legba.

The intermediary. The Guardian of the Crossroads.

Without him, no conversation between Loa and mortal kind, happened.

Without him, nothing could be accomplished.

She noticed the young face hidden within the folds of Papa's robes but as that particular seeming had nothing to do with her original worship practices, she had no knowledge of what that face could possibly represent. She found herself staring at the statue, seemingly lost in a bit of a daze.

Harvey's voice broke her from her stasis.

"This is the place. I've seen this statue of Papa Legba before, but that smaller face is new..."

Lorna allowed herself to follow Harvey into the dark confines of the temple. The air was heavy with scent, something vaguely sharp and sweet. However she did not catch the scent of tobacco anywhere...and cigars were a gift that Legba always enjoyed receiving.

"We've come seeking answers. Questions that can only be found at the borderline. We ask your presence, and your assistance."

The temple contained odd harmonics, bouncing Harvey's resonant voice in really weird ways. Lorna felt something like electricity~it started at the soles of her feet and flowed upward, toward the top of her head. She wanted to speak up but what could she say? The Loa seemed very angry with her. She was no longer fit to be a Cheval, fit to be ridden. No longer fit to worship in the ways of her foremothers.

'Stop it! You know more about this than he does. He must be told the way of things or there could be trouble.'

Lorna forced out some words.

"Um, Harvey? We should have really stopped to buy a gift of tobacco, rum or even some really foul smelling cigars. We are petitioning Papa Legba for help and he must BE paid."

Her words, halted. Taking a deep breath to fortify herself she carried on.

"The Loa are not like the things that masquerade as Gods here. They are divine spirits and as such must always be treated with respect. Gifts for helping, gifts for calling on, gifts for answers or quests given. This is how it works. Without the gift for Papa we may not ever reach the Loa we need to handle this particular crisis."

Her voice faded into silence, once more.

 

[fr33ks33k]

Harvey was actually startled by Lorna's voice. She'd been so quiet during this entire journey. Her words jogged his memory of the last time he'd been in this temple. It had been quite a while, and he had indeed forgotten the traditions associated with the petition of a Loa for help.

He searched his pockets for something, anything that would be suitable. He came up with an old bent cigar. It had a band around it with a date on it and a few initials. Holy Hell, it was from Taylor's botched stag party. Still, it was tobacco. It would do. Hopefully.

"Tell me Lorna, will this work as tribute? It's a little beat up, but then, I don't smoke often."

The candles flickered in the temple. An unseen presence, there at one instant and gone in the next. Harveys' eyes scanned the room, but found nothing. Not even with his eyes. His stare fell back on Lorna, awaiting her response.

 

[Luna_Wolf72]

Lorna noted his hesitation, his search through ample coat pockets, the furrow between his eye brows as he fondled and discarded each object found there. Finally, his large hand withdrew from it's search and held up a rather bent cigar. The scent was atrocious.

She knew that Papa would approve.

"Yes. That should do for a calling on."

With no further words, Lorna proceeded to drop her knap sack and kneel in the aisle, her own fingers scrambling through the depths of the now very abused bag. Eventually, her fingers closed over an ornate key and she pulled it out with a soft sigh. Keys were sacred. Old keys to lost things, doubly so.

"When I left London proper, it was the middle of the work week. Most times, with rites for him, we use Monday but any day will work."

After a moment's thought, Lorna rose to her feet and began pacing up the center aisle toward the candles just behind the main altar. With fingers that ached from a sudden cold sensation, she snatched two white and two red candles from the flickering throng and placed them on the altar along with the offering bowl. Her hand reached for, and received, the slightly bent cigar.

One jagged nail split the cigar length wise so that she could empty the rolled tobacco into the bowl and tucked the cigar wrap into her coat pocket. That same hand withdrew a book of matches from that pocket and immediately set fire to the tobacco, filling the temple with the scent of burning cherries.

The candle flames flickered, flickered. Steadied.

Lorna's voice echoed throughout the temple.

"Atibon Legba, louvre port-la pou mwen!"

She feels a gathering storm, an electricity.

The key is held out, placed just before the burning tobacco, centered precisely between the first two wildly flickering candles.

"I have need of your power. I have need of your service. I have need of you."

A vast roiling power thrummed through her, causing her hair to fly out and stand on end. There were other words. Promises. Songs. Praises to his power. His goodness. She sang them until the tobacco was gone, until the key stopped glimmering, until the four candles on the altar went out.

"I am not sure if he will come for me."

The candles, the torches? All blew out. And when they relit...something...was there.

 

[fr33ks33k]

Harvey watched in amazement as Lorna went through the petitioning ritual. It was as if she'd performed them all her life; the power that surged through her and the room was palpable. That presence he'd felt retreated, then suddenly reformed. The low flickering of the candles now cast several long wavering shadows down the aisle and onto the walls of the temple.

"You have paid your tribute, and I have come. What do you need with old Papa?"

A withered old figure, stooped and leaning on a cane, cloaked in deep purple robes, looking like a swath of bruises made into a man stood at the altar. His eyes held a fierce glow, somehow looking older than his physical form. They were full of terrible knowledge and awful insight, but also held the look of salvation, guidance, and strength. He spoke in a voice that was commanding, but not overpowering.

Harvey stepped forward, bowing to the old man and meeting his gaze steadily.

"Thank you for hearing us. We're trying to find this woman's shadow. It was taken from her, but we don't know by whom or why."

Papa Legba narrowed his eyes, staring down at Lorna, still kneeling by the altar.

"Ah, tis you. You should know better than to let yourself go wand'ring like that. Why have they taken your shadow? To hide your true self. To disconnect you from your power. Many would try to take your place. Many would fail yet, but you are still vulnerable here.

That ring is your binding. You don't have it now, do you? Well, you'd best find it. But don't look for it, because you won't see it."

"That's wonderfully cryptic. If we can't look for it, how can we find it?"

"You should know better than me, boy. Those eyes of yours have seen the Abyss, haven't they? You've seen Above and Below and Between. You walk the crossroads as much as I..."

Papa Legba smiled then at Harvey; a slight chill ran down his spine. The elderly Loa stepped forward, surprisingly sturdy with his cane holding his frame up. His gaze cast down onto Lorna once more.

"You will feel it in your chest when that ring is near to you. It is a part of your heart, after all. But I see you might need more simple directions to your destiny. Or destination, whichever you choose it to be...

Seek out the one who calls the gutters his home, calls the sick and homeless his flock. He will help you to the ring."

Harvey's eyes widened as the Loa mentioned their next contact. That man was the only one who really, truly worried him.

Papa Legba smiled down on Lorna and left her with one parting phrase as he turned and disappeared in a puff of smoke that stank of tobacco and incense.

"You'll find yourself. You always do."

 

[Luna_Wolf72]

In her mind~there was a screech of sound, a loud brass bang that clanged in a somewhat musical way. When that stopped? When her eyes had opened after the din had ended? She saw him. Bent like an old tree, brown and wizened. In her heart a flutter~of recognition, of reverence, of fear. She could only kneel there~ her eyes wide, her gaze steady, her heart pounding.

He had come.

Harvey took up the conversation. Even if Papa had wanted to speak to her, Lorna didn't believe she could have carried on a sensible conversation. She was still awe struck by the fact that he had come, that he had considered her small rite worthy of consideration.

It made her feel~ better.

Harvey explained the situation in a few quick sentences. Papa stunned her by his initial remarks. He remembered her? She hadn't ever become a Mambo, had never been more than a horse from time to time. She hadn't been the leader of any rite, any ritual. Alegba should not have known her.

And then he mentioned that be damned ring!

Lorna wanted to cry. How could something sold ages ago cause all of the trouble she was now having? Never once had this been a problem before. No one had cared that she had sold the ring, no one had bothered to tell her of the need for it to stay in the family. With her inability to have a natural child, it wasn't like she could pass it on.

Why the hell was the ring so important?? The next few statements explained, sort of.

"You will feel it in your chest when that ring is near to you. It is a part of your heart, after all. But I see you might need more simple directions to your destiny. Or destination, whichever you choose it to be..."

So...the ring was her binding, a part of her heart? Someone should have told her that, back when she first received it.

Papa continued with his instructions~telling Harvey where they should look next. Somehow, the look on Harvey's face when Papa described this person was NOT comforting. Lorna rose shakily to her feet, after the meet had ended. Her eyes fastened onto the man who was attempting to help her and her voice~quiet, cool~ rang out in the stillness of the temple.

"I've the feeling that our next contact is NOT someone you wanted to run into, just yet."

She tried a grin and felt it begin to slip from her face before it had fully blossomed. It was then that her belly made a loud, long grumbling sound.

"Um, Harvey? Do you think we could put this off for just a little bit. I am starving. I need food."

With the question still unanswered, Lorna bent to retrieve her knap sack and grabbed the dimly glowing key from the altar. The instant she held it in her hand, a sense of peace fell into place.

Maybe Papa had given her a gift?

Gods, she hoped so.

After a moment's hesitation, she placed the key on the silver necklace that dangled around her neck and tucked the whole thing into her shirt, so that the key rested between her breasts. Calm. Peace. She felt almost normal.

She waited by the temple's entrance for her guide and wondered about the next step of their journey. A question then, as something registered for the first time since this whole fiasco had begun.

"Harvey? What are you charging me for helping?"

 

[fr33ks33k]

Harvey had hardly had a chance to process the implications of meeting with...was that a growl? No, it was just Lorna's stomach. He smiled politely and stepped out of the temple with her at his side. Her questions he answered in reverse order.

"I'm not charging anything. I'm doing this as a favor for Taylor. I...owed him one, from way back. And no, I'm not going to talk about it.

As for food, sure. We could go to the Hawk's Wind. It's not far from here. Then again, not much is too far from anywhere else in the Nightside. Though, do be prepared for some...oddness.

And no, I am not looking forward to having to seek him out. Last time we crossed paths, things did not end well."

He stopped talking and led the way down the street in the opposite direction, leaving the Street of the Gods behind. They took a few side streets and ended up on a street that looked so nondescript that it might be easily overlooked. That is, if the Hawk's Wind didn't look so amazing in its 60's glory. It flickered every few seconds, just to remind people that the bar wasn't really there. It was a ghost of a bar, haunting the location it had disappeared from at a time that no one remembered clearly enough.

Harvey held the door open and the roaring sounds and smells blared out into the street, though they didn't permeate far. He smiled. It had been too long since he'd stopped in. Taylor always talked about how great the Coke was here. Maybe he'd give it a try too.

"After you, Ms. St. James."

 

[Luna_Wolf72]

'So, no charge. Must have been a helluva favor.'

Of course, Lorna didn't bother to state that. The thought came and went like so many other empty words through out her day. Instead, she found herself nodding eagerly at the name of a restaurant and followed Harvey closely as he led them away from the Street of the Gods.

She didn't bother to ask about the un-named next stop either. What would have been the point? Harvey wouldn't tell her anything. He would just lead her and lead her until her feet refused to move any further.

"Like I am some sort of stubborn burro that just has to be beaten in the direction she should go...'

Another nonsensical thought that was cut off as they turned a corner and Hawk's Wind Bar & Grill came into view. The place was...bright. An almost Art Deco sort of building that looked as if it had been transplanted in it's spot straight from the summer of love.

The doors opened and someone who resembled a very young Elvis A. Presley stepped passed them, his lips twisted into a sort of inimical grin. His voice was roughened honey, his eyes sparkling. He held the door open and gave a low laugh.

"Go on in. The place is jumpin'."

Inside, the place WAS jumping. Women rolled through on roller skates, hair up in large beehives or pulled back as slick and straight as Twiggy's body. There were various sorts of patrons sitting at the many Formica topped tables and laughing. Some of those patrons didn't look like any sort of person Lorna had ever seen but it didn't matter.

It was the 60's all over again.

"Oh! It smells so good!"

The exclamation was an honest reaction. It did smell good. Burgers frying, the scent of perfectly cooked fries. Real food. Real hunger breaking food. Lorna found herself rooted to the spot, unsure of where to go.

It was then that a happy little waitress type skated over. Her hair was a perfect confection of white blonde beehived glory and her body was barely covered by a tiny little mini that just barely concealed the curve of her butt. A pair of matching spank shorts could just be seen beneath the hem.

"Hi ya Harvey. You've never been, huh? JT told me to be expecting you...and look, here you are. C'mon."

Lorna gave Harvey a startled look and began to follow the sweet young thing and Harvey as she led them toward a corner table. Within a few moments, the pair were seated and the waitress was handing them some rather large menus.

"So tonight our basic special is...cheeseburger deluxe and chips...with real coke. You want?"

Lorna began nodding before the woman ever finished speaking.

"Oh Gods, yes."

Laughter as the woman finished taking Harvey's order, grabbed the two menus and skated away.

"So, you gonna tell me about the next stop, Harvey?"

 

[fr33ks33k]

The waitress had been expecting him? Taylor had known they'd come to the Hawk's Wind? Harvey shook his head; nothing should surprise him here, but somehow there was always something. As they stepped into the technicolor carousel that was the moving and shaking of the Hawk's Wind, escorted to their table and orders of burgers and fries with authentic Cokes taken, Lorna was right back to business.

While they waited on their food, Harvey watched the goings-on, attempting to avoid the conversation as long as possible. Soon enough, he couldn't find any more excuses, so he turned seriously to his companion and exhaled a heavy sigh.

"Well, the man Papa Legba was referring to was a particularly unsavory character. I say this only because I've been associated with him, done business with him, and fought against him on a few occasions. He is known by many names, but the one that people tend to duck and run from most is Razor Eddie. He's the Punk God of the Straight Razor, a man who made a deal with a terrible power to give him the means to right whatever things he felt were more terrible.

The fact that we have to seek him out, that he knows how to find ring, that is unbelievably terrifying."

Just then, the waitress returned with two steaming platters, burgers and fries and cokes that were glistening with condensation all ready for the eating. Harvey hadn't realized how hungry he was himself until the food was set before him.

"Here ya go! Need anything else? Didn't think so...I'll be back to check on you two in a bit. Enjoy your date!"

The waitress snapped her gum and wandered off, swaying on her skates like a slalom racer.

Why did people keep assuming that he and Lorna were an item? He thought it was obvious that they were professionals working together...at the very least a client and their hired help. He wasn't sure which bugged him more; the fact that they thought it, or the fact that...well, that he wouldn't mind it. Those kind of thoughts had been on the back burner, but as they ate, he noticed more and more that she was definitely someone he wouldn't mind seeing outside of work. If they managed to find her shadow, to figure out the mysterious connection to the Loa and tie up all the loose ends, he might even consider taking her out. If she stayed in the Nightside, that is.

Between bites, Harvey asked a question of his own, dark eyes moving from her hands holding her food to her eyes, careful not to stare too hard.

"Tell me more about your life back in the States. What made you so eager to jump across the pond? It sounds like you were trying to escape something..."