China wrap-up, then Down Under and back.

So look, lots more stuff happened in China. I suddenly got 10 years younger and felt my stamina get better in an instant...but my sense of humor definitely reverted back to my postgraduate university days in London...so full of life and vigor that I spontaneously burst into a rendition of the old sea shanty "South Australia" in the airport in China.

But before that, well, Pan died, or rather, was killed, except he wasn't...he was cloven in two...and it seemed to split the world in two all around us...only it was more an illusion or vision-like effect than reality...and suddenly he became two separate and distinct gods that went their own ways...one of them a Roman deity and the other one I can't recall at the moment, other than it was very strange.

We also faced down Nikola Tesla in the Gobi desert. Gunnar tried to reason with him but then it came to blows. Nikola turned the tables on me insofar as he used the same legendary ability that some of the gods jokingly call "Fight with your head"; Humans might say, "fight smarter, not harder"...and anyway, that's what Tesla did, and it rather ruined my day. I used it back on him, but obviously it's less effective if used in a reactionary, "me too" kind of way. But it was enough to keep Gunnar alive at one point. Well that and thanks to unexpected heroics from Harlan, who jumped in the way of a vicious blow intended for Gunnar.

The time distortions wreaked other havoc before all was said and done. Nevermore was thrown forward in chronological age and succumbed to old age. He now follows Laurel as a ghostly spirit guide, and only Laurel and I are able to see him, I think.
Astrid the cat was thrown backwards in time, becoming a squishy embryo and then winking out of existence.

As these things often end, it was sort of a draw, and Tesla escaped our clutches, but we definitely threw a monkey wrench into his plans...by way of alerting the gods to all we had learned, who made short work of all the buried devices on planet Earth, with much fanfare and utterly stunning humanity in the process. I laugh now when I think back to how Nate and I had been trying to help out by bashing the top of the machine in the Gobi with our swords. Once we saw their true scale in the hands of the gods...the efforts of two puny Demigods such as ourselves...like I said, I can only laugh...

So next it was off to South Australia for myself, Gunnar, and Laurel. The kids, Laurel sensed, had had some trouble lately--Nate picked up on it as well--and we needed to meet up with them in Australia to check on them and find out what was up.

Turns out they'd been in some kind of sea adventure and things got ugly. Hercules bailed them out (literally and figuratively) and they kept mentioning a kindly Whale that fought the sea-monster bravely and probably saved all their lives. Young Brendan Gair had mentioned to me once how they'd saved a beached whale in San Francisco Bay and the kids felt certain this creature was the very same. I'm inclined to believe it. Brendan also related to me that the creature reminded him very much of one of Ixion's wolves that he'd managed to kill when Ixion first attacked Laurel's house...it was a twisted bio-mechanoid of some sort and truly terrifying.

I wandered down to the beach to take in the carnage of the sea-battle's aftermath. Gunnar, with his keen telescopic senses, came along as well.

Realizing quite some time had passed since I last honored my Geas, I spent quality time at a local wildlife research station with an emphasis on coastal ecology, including fish and whales but also marshlands and water fowl. I met a few Australian scientists with Irish backgrounds and got on famously with them. Though perhaps it's merely my imagination, I spent so much time so intensely, I felt as though I managed to cram an entire undergraduate education in biology in that short week or so of time in South Australia.

In the evenings, I'd play fiddle in the local Irish bar, and the Aussies were quite pleased to have a genuine Irishman performing in their midst. I was really keen on the Irish-Australian fusion music, incorporating traditional Celtic sounds with Australian native instruments, including a special rendition of "South Australia" that really raised the roof.

Such Great Craic Down Under!

Next, we made our way to Mexico City and then out into the countryside to meet up with our old friend Jack Cook, living in a modest but nice Hacienda a bit off the beaten path. With his Griffin. Laurel and Gunnar asked Jack for a huge favor, namely to serve as their full-time nanny while they their parents had to go save the world. To my mild surprise, Jack was actually more amenable, or at least, I should say, mostly apathetic rather than hostile to the suggestion...

It was from there that I parted ways with Gunnar and Laurel, who had to be rushing off to Greece next. I texted Nate to learn if he had any new info on Cordelia, but he blew off my text, so I flew from Mexico City to Houston, from Houston to London direct, then British Rail from Victoria Station to Liverpool, then crossing over on the ferry at Liverpool back to Dublin.

The look in Aisling's eyes when she saw me looking 10 years younger was utterly priceless. She did notice that my manner was a bit cruder and less refined, but she thought it refreshing and helped me adjust my style of dress a bit...she even went with me to the barber's and helped me pick out a very mod European haircut. I even put away my glasses, which had always been a fashion statement to begin with, since my eyesight remains 20x20.

I had been back in Ireland for only about 24 hours--One thing I don't miss from my pre-Scion awakened days is jet-lag--when I got a call from Nate updating me that there was a situation stateside I should probably help deal with. "We may need you to go all St. Patrick on some place."

"What?"

"Drive out snakes, man. Rollersnakes."

"Say no more. I'll be on my way as soon as I can."

Aisling made a deft move and slipped the cellphone out of my hand before I could stop her, lifted it to her lips and said "Hi, Nate. He means WE will be on our way as soon as WE can."

Aisling chatted a bit longer with Nathan, asking about his wife, etc. then hung up the phone and placed it gently back in the breast pocket of my black club jacket.

Her eyes met mine and she said "...don't you give me that look. I'm coming with youse. I want to see America again. I love yer ma and all, but jayzus I'm bored sometimes. And you can't come tempt me with this new bod of yours and then go darting off again...I know you're not a cruel man, Brendan O'Shea...I wouldn't have married ye if I didn't know ye so well."

And I remembered again how much the love of this woman means to me.

"I just, you know I just worry about your safety."

"Brendan O'Shea", she said, "...you know even death will not end my devotion to you."

"I know all too well," I began, and gingerly related to Aisling how Nevermore had died in China. Aisling burst into tears, hearing of the loss of her avian friend. She buried her face in my chest, sobbing. I could feel her tears soaking my shirt, and her petite body shaking with grief as I related how he now continues to follow Laurel as a ghostly spirit guide.

Aisling brushed aside her tears for a moment and looked up at me square in the eyes and said "and so will I for you if the worst should happen to us. Never doubt that for a minute."

"I don't, sweetness. I don't. Please come to America with me."

She nodded and brightened...then got a mischievous look and said "but first you please come to bed with me...even Scions of gods need their down time..."

I'll spare the reader what else she said--it's none of your business besides!--other than to say in passing that for someone originally of the fairy folk, sometimes she has a dirtier mind, mouth and imagination than even a Dubliner like me, and that's really saying something.

Embassy Investigation

Gunnar fell quickly towards the Earth; I took a step and prepared to fly up and catch him, but Laurel saw me out of the corner of her eye and said "don't worry, he's got it..."

Before my eyes, Gunnar crashed into a passing flock of birds, which slowed and altered his trajectory enough to grab on to one of the Embassy's flying buttress structures; it broke but he grabbed another that held, and from there he managed to clamber down the side of the building rapidly without so much as getting a scratch on himself.

Feng gave a slow golf clap and said "Very nice, but can we get on with this, please? I'm on a tight schedule here."

Feng opened the Embassy door and we proceeded inside past the yellow police tape saying "Do Not Enter" in Mandarin Chinese.

Laurel indicated she would remain outside looking after her kids.

The majority of the bodies we located clustered around a big conference table in the rear of the first floor of the Embassy. Nate summoned the Kami of the security camera and got a run-down of what the camera had seen. Pan had been involved, some kind of deal struck. This was definitely getting interesting.

Then we heard a booming voice from a bullhorn outside command in Chinese for "Intruders! Come out with your hands up! This is the National Police service!"

Gunnar and I voluntarily came out; Feng said "Screw that! I'm blowin' this scene. You're on your own from here.", and exited out the nearest window. Kassandra made herself scarce in similar fashion. Nate tried to exit a window but was caught by the approaching Chinese police captain, the same gentleman we'd encountered battling the angels earlier, though from his perspective that hadn't happened yet.

Gunnar and I had already encountered this gentleman out front and he had asked after our companions. Turns out not only had the locals seen us, they'd counted us, and he knew that those of us on the front porch were only a fraction of the suspects he was hunting for.

I produced my INTERPOL badge/passport and tried to convince him I was not interfering but rather assisting with the investigation; He protested this was against protocol and that INTERPOL had failed to notify him in advance. I suggested we could sort this all out back at the station, and he agreed with an indignant huff.
Gunnar suggested we hurry, because if we were where he thought we were in time, it was about to come under attack. This statement clearly unsettled the Captain.

Gunnar did his best to reassure our Chinese friend that we were indeed friends and had cooperated before, or would soon cooperate or...well, something like that.
Damn this time travel; so confusing...

Sandstorm

We were back in the Gobi desert but instead of having the violent storms surrounding us on all sides while we were in a relative calm in the center of it, we were on the edge of that calm center and in the middle of the maelstrom itself. Blinding, cutting sand and hideous lightning striking with improbably rapid succession, far too close for comfort. Progress was slow and difficult. Harlan looked to be the worst for wear and on the verge of giving up. I couldn't find Gunnar anywhere. Laurel erected some kind of energy shield and we started to make better progress, but I could tell with all the energy contained in the storm, Laurel's shield would not hold out indefinitely.

We approached close enough to see Pan off in the distance, as well as the time Avatar, and possibly ourselves? Can't be certain of that, though. Something in the air above caught my eye and I noticed Gunnar riding a Griffin, very high above us, and above the storm clouds. He was pointing in the direction of Pan; Laurel waved back and gave a quick thumbs up to show she had seen the same thing. The noise was still deafening all around us.

And then just as suddenly, everything fell still and quiet, the scene changed, and we were on a city street in Wu-Hai...with Gunnar hanging in mid-air, sans Griffin, and with a very surprised look on his face.

Jumping Jack Frost

Somehow, the time rift flung us into the far future. We encountered a figure familiar to Gunnar, Laurel, and Harlan from their travels in Norway and beyond. A visage I later learned they had previously identified as Jack Frost. There was some tense parley, questions and counter-questions before "Jack" accepted our story that we had genuinely come from the past and were going to need some help to get a little caught up on current events.

Jack's appearance changed and before us stood a hearty young man with familiar features, clad in princely Irish regalia that indicated his day of succession, taking over as guardian of Mag Mell had already transpired. Gunnar and Laurel had yet more questions and learned some startling things, but before we could question Brendan Gair further, the time rift opened yet again and we were flung back to our time...

A funny thing happened on the way to the Mongolian Embassy...

We came to in a Wu-Hai youth hostel, sharing a room with one Feng T'ien, whose appearance matched a vision Nate had revealed to us earlier.

Feng turned out to be a break-all-the-rules kind of Scion in more ways than one. He is a son of Sun Wukong (of Celestial Bureaucracy fame) but was adopted by Chernobog (of the Rus) and instructed by Veles.

He possessed an interesting claw that seemed of similar make to one the band had seen before, namely that speedy fecker in New Orleans we thought we'd killed then later met on his boat in the harbor bound back to Japan.

He alluded to Veles working with whomever Nathan Pritchert seem to have been making deals with after repossessing Nathan’s shadow. Yeah, that was something new I forgot to mention. Nate has no shadow now. Said it happened as a result of a special deal he worked out to prevent a nuclear reactor in New Jersey from going critical.

I spoke with Feng in Russian and he turns out to speak it fluently as well. I alluded to the Sino-Russian conflict and how it must especially be difficult for him, with a foot in both camps, so to speak. He just smiled and rather dodged my question politely. He indicated the role of Mongolia as an important game piece in the conflict, and that recently something mysterious happened at the Mongolian Embassy, with all of the embassy staff dying en masse but with no signs of violence or forced entry. The police had sealed off the area but whatever happened probably has traces of the divine, so these mortals might as well be Keystone Kops in trying to figure this one out. Feng indicated to all of us that it would be a good idea to apply our combined Scion wits to the investigation and get over there posthaste. Sure, it was a sealed crime-scene area and technically illegal, but...

We made our way through the city streets, with Feng leading the way. Of course, the rest of us being non-Chinese, we stuck out and were noticed by the natives, but there wasn't much we could do about that.

We pushed past the security tape and made our way to the front door of the Embassy. Feng picked the security lock of the chained door in seconds, looked back with a smile and pulled the door open, which is when everything went sideways and the Embassy vanished and we got sucked yet again to some other place in space-time...

More Little trouble in Big China

So anyway, bit of a scuffle, and Pan sticks this really weird looking sword into the Time Avatar...presumably the half-white, half-black angel thing of Laurel's previous vision...and suddenly everything goes sideways and weird.

...and we find ourselves in downtown Wu-Hai, China, near the Mongolian border. The buildings are very traditional and it's hard for me to gauge if we're still in the 21st century or not. A government official wearing traditional looking garb accosts us and tells us to stay put, first in Chinese, then in English.

I address the man in Mandarin Chinese, saying I know this is going to sound like a funny question but what year is this?

"It's 2011, of course", he answered, with a puzzled look on his face. Suddenly we are surrounded by menacing yet angelic figures that remind me very much of the figures that acted as sentinels guarding Horace in the Terra Incognita originating at Pan's hotel property in Southern California...As I learned later, a now very pregnant Laurel (learned later because she wasn't showing at the time due to some special ability she picked up along the way) ducked into a nearby residence with Kassandra close behind. The Chinese policeman(?) seemed to cast a veil of protection over that building just in time, as the Angelic figures began to spew forth destructive laser-like beams that washed over the newly erected protective shield. It was holding for now but I could tell it was only a matter of time.

I summoned the Ichor in my body to form a thin but powerful protective coat over my body but beneath my armor and clothes, a technique I'd picked up from Ciara after the whole business in Helheim and all.

Harlan dashed inside the police station nearby, headed for the upper floors. Gunnar rushed in to challenge the nearest Angelic figure, taking a swing at it with his axe but doing only minimal damage.

I declaimed my intellect, swearing we would find a way to vanquish these foes; I then declaimed my courage, swearing we would face these enemies down...I then turned a quick pivot and hurled Gae Bolga into the chest of an Angelic figure perched on the roof of the police station, against whom I had the clearest line of sight. The blow seemed to knock it back a half a step and it seemed genuinely surprised to see the ancient spear protruding from its own chest.

At the same time, Nate got a piece of one with his gun, I think. The angels let loose another volley against the residence where Laurel was hiding with Kassandra (and later, I learned, actually giving birth to her twins, as a result of the time dilating effects).

There was a great whooshing sound overhead and looking into the sky I saw a somewhat older Jack Cook flying in on an impressive Griffen-like creature, accompanied by what looked like the son of Nate and two other young heroic men I could not identify.

The jig was up and the Angels reached...inside themselves...and seemed to pull their chests apart, exploding into bursts of pure plasma energy....Nate was able to jump away and grab Gunnar, too. I wasn't so lucky but the body armoring Ichor sustained the bulk of the blow. Gae Bolga blasted out from the one Angel's chest and I caught it as it rocketed back towards me, reverting it back to its compact form in one smooth motion. I was later told I looked like one of those cartoon characters that survive a cartoon explosion...hair singed a bit and all wild, soot on the face, etc, looking like a Scottish coal miner, but otherwise no worse for wear.

Harlan had the misfortune to have the building collapse around him and got banged up pretty bad, but at least he survived.

Laurel and Kassandra's building survived the blasts, though it collapsed the protective shield, but it gave enough resistance to let the building's natural sturdiness take the rest.

I felt myself coughing and choking a bit in the whirling dust left by the explosion; my glasses were caked in it. I removed them, rubbed my eyes, but when I opened them, I was someplace else entirely....

A place called Vertigo...

I managed to survive the whole China adventure but it was one helluva ride. Oh, and I came out of it de-aged approximately ten years. More on that in a bit, but first a musical interlude by U2 to set the mood...



my favorite lines, and rather what this trip left me feeling like:

Lights go down, it's dark
The jungle is your head
Can't rule your heart
a feeling so much stronger than
a thought
Your eyes are wide
And though your soul
It can't be bought
Your mind can wander

Hello, Hello (¡Hola!)
I'm at a place called Vertigo (¿Dónde está?)
It's everything I wish I didn't know
Except you give me something i can feel,
feel

The night is full of holes
As bullets rip the sky
Of ink with gold
They twinkle as the
Boys play rock and roll
They know that they can't dance
At least they know...

I can't stand the beat
I'm asking for the cheque
The girl with crimson nails
Has Jesus round her neck
Swinging to the music
Swinging to the music
Oh, Oh, Oh

Little Trouble in Big China

So upon leaving the Great Henge, Nate went back to the 'States to collect Harlan and Kassandra, while Gunnar, Laurel and I resolved to make our way to China to investigate Pan's alleged activities; we would get their via Italy and Greece first. Italy, because that was where the nearest Henge was when we exited into Europe. Our first stop would be Athens, Greece. We'd managed to break Marie free from the other band in the Great Henge and Laurel was determined to bind her securely on her pantheon's home turf in the mortal world so she could collect her later. Laurel also had a chance to speak to Apollo, who gave her some advice. I was only half-listening, so don't look to me for an accurate assessment of all that.

Amazingly, though, on the time it took us to traverse the route from our drop-off point in Italy to reach Greece, I was able to learn and master Mandarin Chinese, both spoken and written...via some helpful books on the subject I picked up in Italy, having learned Italian earlier in my travels.

We boarded the Olympic Air flight bound for Beijing via New Delhi, India but whilst still airborne and before even touching down in Beijing, we suddenly found ourselves in what looked to be the Gobi Desert, surrounded on all sides by the most intense thunderstorm activity I've ever seen...on a large sandy plane...with none other than the Greek God Pan himself (now adorned in some funky new armor) and a strange, angelic figure I took to be some kind of Avatar...of Time?

Yeah, then things started to get a little weird....

The Man from Moneygall

So anyway, I managed to make my way all the way across the US, from the West Coast to the East Coast. Now I'm able to actually read Japanese instead of only speaking it. I started off reading children's Manga and by the end of my trip I was thumbing through Miyamoto Musashi's Five Rings, in the original. Also happened to chat up a nice Japanese business traveler on my way to DC.

I met up with the other band members and we were ushered into the White House. Since Ireland has good relations with the US, plus my being an INTERPOL man, the fact that I was a foreigner seemed to be no great hindrance...though I admit I was a little star struck when I met the President. This man who had recently paid tribute to his family roots back in Moneygall, Ireland, and evoking memories of another American President who visited the Emerald Isle ages ago with the Irish surname of Kennedy...

Anyway, we arranged to meet a Los Angeles Class Sub somewhere in the Atlantic; our mission was to seek out what we suspected was one of Tesla's soul-sucking devices that we theorized was at the bottom of the Atlantic and responsible for the recent East Coast earthquake. We also met the kids but made them stay on the surface with Dorothen on the boat.

Oh wait, now I remember...Harlan didn't go do his thing in New York until after all this, because of whom we met after we took care of business below...right...gosh, it's so hard to keep track of that guy...what else can you expect from a Scion of Loki, am I right?

Anyway, down below was...interesting. Had to play lots of "telephone" since only Laurel and I could communicate without the need of equipment, and there was a shortage of equipment, and...

Oh yeah, Laurel and Harlan briefly died when I pushed them beyond the barrier, which I was only able to do because of now having the aforementioned Death Senses. We quickly evacuated them back to the submarine and were able to revive them. I performed CPR on Harlan and brought him back. Kassandra revived Laurel, who related what had happened and also that Azzeeza was there and we had to get her out, so back into the deep we went, Nate and I adjusting the rod settings and out popped Azzeeza. We brought her back to the surface with us, and young Brendan Gair was so happy to see her again.

We next ran into one of Kane's flunkies in a fancy boat who said all kinds of pretentious crap. Harlan later showed us how he was able to steal the likeness right off this guy's face, who was himself a body double for Kane...it's all really weird sh*t and I don't pretend to understand half of it. Harlan indicated he was headed next to NYC to "go f*ck stuff up for Kane"...and Kassandra would be going with, along with Ciara, who indicated her mom would be sending her on a quest soon to restore her broken geas from the Wolfsheim incident.

After we got back to the DC area, we debriefed the Prez, then proceeded to a mystical "Henge" in Virginia, which led us to a connection to what is known as the Great Henge...where we faced off opposite Kane, Ixion, and Cordelia as well. Words were exchanged, things got a little heated, and Nate got attacked by this white mask that did a kind of face-hugger attack on him and Nate went just a tad crazy for a time....frankly I'm still not sure he's back 100% where he was...if I recall the entity's name was Mikaboshi or something similar. Anyway, when Mikaboshi went all ape-shit on Nate's face, that apparently broke some divine Geas that governs all Great Henges and that being that they are neutral, holy ground and you don't start up shit on neutral, holy ground. Not even Titanspawn. Even Titanspawn have to follow the rules of the universe, apparently. Anyway, those guys had to GTFO in a hurry, which was good because I think that would've been a tough fight since we were down to a skeleton crew at the time and lacking our heaviest hitter, Ciara.

We then had an hour to kill before the Henge could send us back anywhere. I decided to talk strategy with Gunnar and Laurel while crazy Nate rocked himself and mumbled and drooled a bit...sometimes murmuring in Japanese, sometimes in English...and even though I understood the words perfectly in both languages, they didn't cohere together in either language either.

California Dreamin' (again)

Now where was I...Oh yeah; So anyway, back into Mag Mell we went. Odin meets up with Manannán mac Lir, who turns over custody of Loki to Odin, who didn't look to happy about it. Outta the frying pan and into the fire, perhaps? Not that I pretend to understand Norse ways or their internal politics.

What next? Well, Nate heads off to America but before I can head back to Dublin to be with my sweetie, Laurel fills me in on what went down with Ixion, her house, Ciara and Kassandra nearly dying, yada yada. She then asks me to please recover a pine box with a pair of kids' baseball gloves, something she doesn't want Ixion to find if she can help it. Oh, and to look for Marie's ghost. Which necessitated yet another side trip to Mag Mell, and a quick lesson in Death Senses from Manannán mac Lir.

Oh, and evidently Harlan has been up causing quite a ruckus for Kane's company in NYC, and the plan is for us all to eventually meet the American President in the White House, introductions to be provided by our own Nate Prichert, soon to be of the FBI, if he can ever get around to finishing his training.

But when the Heroine of the Norwegian Sea, otherwise now known enigmatically as "The Doctor", asks you a favor, well, I just couldn't say no. So I let Aisling know it was off to California with me and then I'd be on to DC.

When I landed in SFO, I discovered that the entire Bay Area was under mandatory evacuation. I was getting roped in with the civilians to waiting evacuation busses; I flashed my INTERPOL badge to a local CHIPs officer, who put me in contact with a San Francisco PD detective. I explained I was needing to investigate a recent incident at a Berkeley area home related to an INTERPOL case, and that I'd be responsible for my own safety. They insisted on having the SFPD detective accompany me, so I said fair enough, and off we went.

I knew mentally what to expect, but the sheer sight of the moonscape that was once Laurel's beautiful home that until recently I had spent many a comfortable night was still quite a shock, and I gasped in spite of myself. I also noted their wedding present, the Astrolabe, had been hurled down the block and was crashed into a neighbor's home. I thanked the detective for driving me to this location and said I needed to walk the scene, and thus I began my investigation. After an hour, I finally located the pine box, and I was relatively confident Ixion probably hadn't seen it or disturbed its contents. I also determined that the salted area where they had been keeping Marie's ghost had been disturbed and that Marie's spirit was no where to be found. The other ghosts in the area were all on the move and not sticking around, having their own apparent rendezvous elsewhere.

Obviously, I couldn't heft the Astrolabe with me round the country, but I figured the least I could do would be to heft it back onto their property. Even as mostly a hole in the ground, this was still a prime piece of California real-estate in the Bay Area. Laurel should be able to sell it for a reasonable rate of return, I imagined. I proceeded to the Astrolabe and hefted it overhead. I thought of the corny Guinness brewery adverts back home, especially the ones that say "Guinness For Strength", and consciously struck a pose and said that out loud and laughed.

I looked at the ashen-faced San Francisco PD detective with the saucer eyes, gave him my most casual shrug and said simply in my friendliest brogue..." 'Tis actually lighter than it looks...."

The detective had gunned the engine before I'd even finished talking and pealed out of the neighborhood well above the posted residential speed limits, sirens blazing...

Well, so much for me ride. Feck all, I'd have to run/jump/fly my way out of the mandatory evacuation zone until I could find a place where normal transportation systems were working and then hop on a bus to the nearest airport, then catch a commuter plane to the nearest major hub, then make my way to Reagan National Airport in DC, or Dulles or BWI or whatever worked. I'd just have to wing it.

Before I left, I did swing by Chinatown and found a bookstore with self-instruction books in Japanese writing systems and bought a few things....it was going to be a long cross country trip no matter what I did, so I might as well occupy my time doing something useful....

Like a bat outta hell.

We went to report what we had discovered to Hachiman. Only Hachiman tranformed himself before my eyes into a face I thought I'd never see again...into the very being of the very much alive and well Manannán mac Lir. He apologized for the earlier deception but explained it had been most necessary for him to use this elaborate ruse for reasons he could not fully go into at the moment. What he did stress is that we needed to hurry out of Mag Mell and send word to Odin and the Aesir, and we needed to do this before the Henchmen of Hades could contact Hades themselves.

The race was on. The Henchmen of Hades versus yours truly and Nate. Both of us racing to get out of Mag Mell as quickly as possible. We passed the same detachment of Fianna and I fairly screamed at them in Gaelic to stop and detain the Greeks that would be right behind us. They were a bit confused but indicated the understood my order and would comply.

When we exited Mag Mell, Derrick was already engaged in combat, the Chain of Lugh in one hand, a massive pistol in the other, firing into the air behind us at a shadowy, flying figure that Nate called a "Shinobi", which I knew was another name for ninja, but I also knew these were celestial beings and no mere mortal band of assassins. They were literally creatures of darkness, creatures of night.

Derrick landed a lucky shot and the creature dissipated into nothingness. I whipped out my smartphone and quickly dialed Gunnar's cellular number and the words fairly tumbled forth...."Oh my gods!! Manannán mac Lir is still alive, we just saw them unearth the real Loki in Mag Mell, and Hachiman seems to be missing, and Derrick just took out a feckin' Shinobi at the Cliffs of Moher."

I could hear the squeal of brakes over the phone and Laurel yelling "What the hell!!" before Gunnar yelled "call you right back!!" and the call dropped.

Mere seconds later, there was a huge flash of lightning at the Cliffs of Moher and before Nate and I stood the towering figure of Odin, the Norse All Father, and a rather sheepish looking Gunnar, having been carried along like a precocious child.
He released Gunnar, whirled round and bounded off the Cliffs of Moher, bound for Mag Mell. Gunnar quickly followed in after.

"Well, Derrick, looks like we're headed back in...", I said apologetically.

Derrick smiled weakly, then grimaced, shrugged, and turned slowly around to face the crowd of utterly shocked tourists and local Irish residents....

...while Nate and I followed on Gunnar's heels back over the cliffs and on our way back into Mag Mell.

Hachiman, Hades, Henchmen, Holy Shite!

We crossed over into Mag Mell. Nate and I agreed that the easiest way to traverse the terrain was by jumping across the landscape with mighty leaps. We would get there faster than by my flying alone.

I tried out some of my Japanese with Nate, and he humored me a bit.

"You watched a lot of Anime, didn't you?"

"Yeah; It was really cool. After about an hour, I didn't need the subtitles anymore."

"Yeah, uh, don't take this the wrong way, but you're speaking like a teenage Japanese schoolgirl, dude. Way WAY too much cheeky slang. Please keep your yap shut around my Dad until you learn a bit more about Japanese culture and rules of etiquette...for both our sakes."

After an uncomfortable pause, Nate asked: "However, you're functionally illiterate in Japanese, though, right?"

Hai, I said, looking away with shame.

On the way to Hachiman's forward base, we encountered a detachment of Fianna knights, who, like Derrick, asked if we had caught sight of Cordelia anywhere...she was missing, having seemingly abandoned her post. We had to admit, we had no idea where she might be. They thanked and bid us continue our mission.

Before long we reached the forward base being used by Hachiman and guarded by the noble Tengu, who recognized Nate and waved us on through. We approached a large-ish Pagoda and to my delight I noticed the cherry blossom trees in full bloom all around this area.

Nate knocked respectfully on the door; when Hachiman opened, Nate and I both bowed deeply, our Katanas sheathed and on the ground in front of us in our grip, as we bowed forward with sincere respect.

Nate was commanded in Japanese to rise and enter. Hachiman did not address me so I remained prostrated before the great Japanese War and Fertility god. I heard the door close behind them and snuck a peak to confirm I was alone. I was. I rose from the ground and hooked my sword back on my belt, then propped my back up against the exterior wall of the Pagoda and thumbed through a paperback lesson book I'd bought on basic Japanese writing systems. I was definitely going to need to spend some quality time studying the complex orthography of this language if it was really going to be all that useful to me.

Out of curiosity, I pressed my ear against the door of the Pagoda; I definitely could hear a muffled Japanese conversation on the other side but couldn't make out any words or phrases.

About a half-hour later, Nate re-emerged and said that we had to move quickly; The henchmen of Hades were about to dig up something from their excavation pit in Mag Mell and it was vitally important that we find out what it is as soon as possible.

We reached the excavation pit and I hoisted Nate aloft, grabbing him underneath both arms and hoisting him into the air. We lowered our way into the pit slowly as I glided downward. We could make out workmen in Graeco-Roman togas and it seemed they were unearthing what looked to be a coffin.

The workmen stopped us from getting any closer, but Nate somehow managed to convince them that he was supposed to be there, acting as Hachiman's lieutenant, and he needed to see this to be able to report back. They agreed and parted ranks to let us through.

The workmen cracked open the lid and what was inside caused both our jaws to drop...


There, tied up securely with a fine golden thread that looked divinely crafted, thus bound and gagged, we beheld the figure of none other than what looked very much like the Norse god named Loki. Calling upon the powers of Enech, I gazed upon him with the power of The Brehon's Eye and sure enough, what it revealed to me confirmed everything true I knew about Loki's nature from my university study of world myths...this was the real Loki, I was sure of it, which probably meant the "Loki" we'd seen outside Wolfsheim was a faker somehow...

Return to Mag Mell

I met Nate at Shannon Airport and we continued on to the Cliffs of Moher. Nate indicated that he'd received a communication from his Divine Father at last, and that he insisted Nate come to speak face-to-face. I asked if this wasn't a bit odd, and Nate allowed that it was, but just shrugged.

"Hey, it's what the ol' man wants, so whaddya gonna do, right?"

"I guess so.", I admitted.

We didn't have time to wait for nightfall, said Nate, so I hoped Derrick could figure out a way to get us into Mag Mell without incident. I needn't have worried. He...somehow managed to lead the great mass of tourists away from the Cliffs using a bullhorn and I think talking about U2's Bono possibly paying a visit to scout the location for their next music video...

But we did manage to speak to Derek briefly beforehand, and he had some disturbing news. Cordelia was missing, and Derrick wanted to know if Nate and I had perchance seen her or heard of her during our own travels of late. I said I hadn't, and looked at Nate, who shrugged. Derrick stated that Cordelia had been acting strangely of late, and that now she had abandoned her post and seemingly disappeared. Derrick, addressing Nate, said gently "...I know she was kind of hard to get along with..."

Nate, magnanimously, said "Oh, she was alright..."

I laughed and said "It's ok Nate, you can say it. She was a b*tch."

"Well, maybe a bit of a feisty Irish redhead.", Nate suggested.

"No.", said Derrick and I simultaneously, laughing.

I looked at Derrick then I continued "...I've dated feisty Irish redheads, Nate. Cordelia was a uptight b*tch. She's a whole 'nother level of Hibernian hussy."

"Well,", interrupted Derrick, "you folks should probably get going. One divine distraction coming right up", he continued, hefting a bullhorn and walking away from us...

"That's our cue.", I said to Nate, and over the Cliffs we went, diving into Mag Mell.

Short lived Domestic Bliss in Dublin

I helped Kassandra make her way back to Dublin to retrieve her cat Astrid from my mother's home, and to pick up Nevermore as well. I learned from Aisling and Nevermore that between the two of them, they were able to keep mom calm and that they all managed to keep each others spirits up these many months.

"Well, that and the steady supply of Jameson's..." blurted Nevermore, who then covered his beak with his wing in embarrassment.

I looked over at Aisling with a look of disapproval and she looked back at me and said "What!? I didn't do it, yer Ma did. Besides it did calm his nerves. He does genuinely worry about Laurel, you know."

"Aye, he's a fine feathered friend...for an Englishman, anyway.", I said with a laugh.

Aisling, though used to the time dilation of various Terra Incognitae, still missed me deeply and was very demanding of me...emotionally, temporally and physically. In between spending quality time with her, I also managed to put my divine abilities to the test vis a vis languages...I had Aisling watch Italian Art films that were sappy romantic comedies, and we also watched the best of Pedro Almodovar's work. I also tuned into BBC Radio Cymru and took in hours of Welsh programming and also watched lots of Japanese Anime slice of life anime with romantic twists, which Aisling also enjoyed...I kept the subtitles on for her, but each time after an hour I found I no longer really needed the English subtitles for myself. In fact I started to notice certain liberties taken with the translations on some. I still couldn't read or write Japanese to save my life, but I found I could easily understand it now when it was spoken, and I could speak it back acceptably well. No doubt, my written Welsh looked very odd and misspelled, since basically I was using the Irish writing style to convey the sounds of Welsh. Not entirely incomprehensible, but definitely amusingly wrong somehow. Also, I listened to a lot of Spanish news broadcasts out of Madrid and Barcelona on my shortwave radio set, mostly tuning in for more info about the worldwide earthquake phenomenon. When I practiced speaking Spanish aloud, I could definitely detect the Castillian lisp...My newly acquired Spanish definitely sounded European, in contrast to Gunnar & Laurel's Spanish, which was decidedly Mexican.

The domestic bliss in Dublin was short-lived, however, as before long I got an urgent call from Nate that he needed to get into Mag Mell to speak to his Divine Father, Hachiman, as soon as possible, and would like me to accompany him to let Derek know everything was cool and all. I said fine, I'd meet him at Shannon airport and we'd head there together. I said my goodbyes to mum and Aisling and I was off again to the other side of our little island.

O, feckin' hel! Part 2

We all shook off the dragon's first attack and spread out our formation to prepare to retaliate. I sized up the tactical situation and shouted advice and directions to my comrades in arms, who preceded to charge forth into action and land a few good blows. Harlan ignited Laurel's axe once she activated it and charged into battle. He then backed up and was even with me, as Ciara and I had been bringing up the rear.

"Can I get a light?", I asked, proffering the fully extended Gae Bolga.

"Watch where you point that thing.", said Harlan curtly. "Besides, are you sure you can handle burning objects safely?"

"You saw me shrug off the dragon's flame. I think I can take it, or at least I'm willing to suffer a little pain to deal that dragon much MORE pain..."

"Suit yourself.", said Harlan with a shrug, and with a wave of his hand, Gae Bolga was suddenly engulfed in flame.

Drawing on all of my powers of concentration, I drew in a deep breath, took careful aim, then emptied my lungs as I hurled the flaming spear forward and upward at the dragon's hulking form, where it embedded with a sickening thunk and sizzle into the fleshy part of the dragon's shoulder, which let out an angry roar of pain.

"Good shot, Brendan!", Laurel yelled back over her shoulder. "Can I yank this out for ya?!"

"Go for it!" I yelled back, unsheathing Caleb's sword from my belt and preparing to engage in close quarter melee myself.

Laurel tried, but was unsuccessful in pulling out my flaming spear. Nate tried as well, but it wouldn't budge. Gunnar likewise tried and failed. Springing into action with her own attack first, it was Ciara who managed to pull forth Gae Bolga from the dragon's shoulder, causing additional deadly damage on the way out from its branched spines that had deployed upon impact. The dragon roared again in pain.

A few seconds later, I was in position beneath the dragon and swung the obsidian Katana upward and cleaved out a nice slice of the dragon's meaty torso. Gunnar, seeking to deliver a coup de grace, I suppose, suddenly rammed a large bundle of explosives into where Gae Bolga had been lodged and to my horror, clicked the detonator. Next thing I knew, I was flying backwards, just a split second before the explosion, Nate's hands gripped firmly upon my shoulders.

The Dragon, sensing things were really not going well, began to ascend into the sky...somehow Ciara managed to stay on the dragon's back despite its twisting and turning efforts to get airborne. Gunnar tried to leap onto its back as well, but then to my astonishment bounced off the dragon's scales with his feet, as if he were using the dragon's torso like a springboard, and he practically tackled his wife Laurel, who very much had a surprised "WTF?" expression on her face, while Gunnar frantically acted as if she were on fire, swatting at non-existent flames with his cloak and yelling out "Laurel!! LAUREL!!!", rolling her in the snow, which clearly irritated her. The confusion of the moment seemed to spread as I saw Ciara shinny up the dragon's neck to its ears and begin to talk softly to it...I'm not the best at reading lips, but I could wear I saw Ciara utter the opening lines of James Joyce's Finnegan's Wake. The dragon's face contorted comically into one of utter confusion, and remembering my first encounters with Joyce in school, I couldn't help but laugh and say to myself "you and me both, o scaly one."; The dragon stopped its fearsome twisting and turning as its mind seemed locked on Ciara's words...it quickly lost altitude and came crashing down to earth with a mighty thud. Nate jumped back into the fray and so did I. Ciara returned Gae Bolga to my hand.

The dragon was clearly at the end of its rope. A war fury gripped me and I stood towering over its crumpled form, my flaming spear held aloft slightly over my head with both of my hands, ready to drive it down into the beast for a final blow when Harlan yelled at me to "STOP!!", which I did. My fury dissipated as suddenly as it had come. Harlan reminded me of this dragon's relatives and how, just like with Hati and Sköld, we might not want to get entangled with any more divine vendettas than were strictly necessary. Ciara invoked one last incantation that ensured this dragon would not remember any of this fight or who we were or how he became so gravely injured. We left the dragon in the middle of the road. Laurel stabilized the dragon but left it unconscious. It would wake many hours later feeling a lot of pain and utter confusion about how it got that way.

I looked behind me and saw Gunnar burying the last of the explosives he'd acquired, then smash the blasting caps underfoot. Well, that was one solution...maybe further than I would've asked...he could just as well have turned over the stuff to someone a bit more---responsible. If he hadn't, I think I would have summoned the powers of Enech itself to ask that it lay a token Geas upon my companion to keep his hands off explosives for a month or so. But since it seemed Gunnar had already learned the error of his ways and was seeking atonement, I thought a Geas at this point would be closing the barn door after the horses had already gotten out.

We proceeded onward seeking an audience with Hel. We first had to get past a bridge guardian that guarded the moat to Hel's castle. Ciara stepped up and once again Irish muscle duly impressed in this frigid Norse realm.

The audience with Hel was long in coming but finally achieved. Laurel pled her case to the great fearsome Goddess, who looked more bored and annoyed than anything else. Hel would release the corpse Laurel wanted, but first Hel demanded that Laurel find out the reason why Loki stole the feather cloak from her after Hel had gone to all the trouble to retrieve it from wayward Kane in the outskirts of Las Vegas, which I still remembered but honestly it felt like a lifetime ago.

Harlan managed to finagle from Hel a helpful little bauble to keep him from freezing to death on the return trip out of Helheim. Ciara transformed her keychain into a boat and Harlan invoked a special force that kept its interior warm while Ciara carried us back across the frozen wasteland the requisite number of days.

We managed to escape back the way we came; there were a few nail biting moments but suffice it to say we made it back to the sacred tree in Germany where we had begun our trek...many many months later, to our horror. I quickly phoned Ireland and let Aisling and mom know I was ok. Aisling was less concerned, as she remembered how things had gone down in Southern California in the Terra Incognita near Death Valley.

"Please just get back here as soon as you can manage, my love", said Aisling. "We're relatively fine here in Dublin, but if you check the news, you'll see the rest of the world isn't so lucky..."

She switched to Gaelic and told me that basically, it looked as if the world was shaking itself apart.

O' Feckin' Hel...Part 1.

If Jack had been with us, I'm sure he would have been queuing up an appropriate ACDC track for the occasion.

We met Harlan's divine "guide", who let us know what the requirements would be for reaching Helheim, the ceremony, advice on what to take, etc. I popped off to my apartment in Lyon to pick up my old Irish Army arctic survival gear from my former stint in the Irish Ranger Wing...amazingly it still fits me fine. I am still a reservist, albeit inactive. I also bought a pair of compact skis and ski poles, just in case. I looked more like a tourist headed for the Swiss alps than the Norse underworld, in all likelihood. If it had been possible, I would've preferred to trade in our M-16s for some Russian Federation AK-47s, but there was no time and far too much red-tape to cut through to make that happen on such short notice. Gunnar wondered aloud where to get his hands on some explosives in Germany, and I advised to try construction companies, which he did, and...by means I'd rather just not ask about, acquired what he was after. I also brought along a flare gun and also some flare wands that GARDA uses for traffic control and/or to mark a crime scene.

We dug a hole at the base of an Ash tree over a century old (probably breaking at least a dozen German environmental regulations in the process), Harlan performed a little ritual, and Gunnar stepped up and jumped in without a second thought, just as he'd done at the Cliffs of Moher on the way to Mag Mell. Harlan's guide gave each person a gentle kick as they jumped in.

When my turn came, I can tell you, it felt surreal...at first it was like jumping into any other shallow pit, but then everything went weird for a second and then I felt the pull of gravity acutely again and I realized I was starting to plummet through open air in a large cavern of some sort, or so it seemed. I concentrated on flying, my Celtic tattoo glowed softly and I was airborne. I saw some of my compatriots had splashed down into a freezing cold lake below, while Laurel landed unsteadily on a large....impossibly large...tree root? It took her a few seconds of struggling and stumbling but she did regain her footing eventually. I watched as Harlan fell straight down on top of where Gunnar was wading and I could hear both of them grunt audibly from the impact before this was covered up by the great splash of water a split second later. I felt my lips curl in an involuntary smile and I actually had to fight back a laugh.

Ciara activated her strange transforming keychain birthright and before long our party was in the boat, albeit mostly sopping wet & miserable, save for Laurel and myself, who remained comfortably dry.

Oh, and that guide of Harlan's of course, she was still dry as she followed in behind the last of our party. Her attention was focused on a rather mean looking Norse dragon whose attention we had all managed to catch as we fell into his domain looking not unlike food nuggets at feeding time, I wagered. They had a rather intense conversation in what I took to be Old Norse. Before my eyes, Harlan's guide transformed into a form utterly unmistakable...Brunhild herself, the Valkyrie! As if she's just walked onstage in our own Richard Wagner production...The dragon seemed to curse, glared at us all one last time, then flew off in a huff, if you can say that about a dragon.

Brunhild indicated to Harlan that basically, "you're on your own from here, Kid. You owe me for this, big time.", the details of which to be apparently worked out in future.

When we reached dry land our party were able to strip, start a fire, dry their drenched clothes and then dress again properly for the road trip ahead. Lucky we were all Scions with epic abilities; mere mortals, or even our sacred companions like my new wife, would have succumbed to hypothermia by now. According to our best intelligence, the journey ahead would take 9 days. It didn't matter at what speed we traveled, it would always take 9 days...underworld physics are kind of weird in that way.

A number of days in, we had a chance encounter with some hungry Frost giants who hoped to make us their next meal. We made short work of them, actually, and finally for once I was able to slay a foe with Cúchulainn's weapon, Gae Bolga, with a single blow, in a manner befitting and worthy of Cúchulainn himself. The Frost giant I had struck died in a horrible death spasm when Gae Bolga pierced his chest. When I ripped the mighty spear out of the corpse, I literally ripped the body apart into several uneven, gore-y sections, which to my mild disgust, became the meal of the surviving giants whom we spared after they surrendered. Gunnar told them to remember us as "Axes, Bullets, and Pain", and to spread word to others that we were not to be trifled with.

"Axes, Bullets and Pain" repeated the surviving giants dumbly and by rote. They trundled off with their next meal...feckin' cannibals...

After another day or so on the road, we were spotted by a Frost giant child, who waved us over, said we had been expected by his mistress and wouldn't we please stop to rest and have a meal? We were suspicious, but I guess we were also looking for some relief to the boredom. Ciara had been learning Old Norse from Gunnar, and I was getting tired of listening to her practice verb conjugations. I offered to teach her Old Irish and the Ogham script it is written in. She said she would get back to me.

Anyway, this old woman invited us into her hovel, and after letting Gunnar sample the stew, we decided it was safe and ate our fill. The old woman then showed us her pet bird, which sang for us....so sweetly...I just....

The next thing I knew, Harlan was giving my face a good hard slap and yelling at me to "Snap out of it, Irish", before moving on to the next band member.

Harlan explained that the old crone had been a witch who was determined to use us as a tool for her own personal agenda against the goddess Hel, ruler of this realm. The witch is imprisoned in this hut and needed our bodies to escape. Harlan didn't tell us where she was or what happened, but insisted we get our of there as soon as possible. We liberated some firewood to use later and were on our way.

About a day later, it was once again Gunnar who noticed something, far far off in the distance. Crap, I wish I'd brought along binoculars on this trip...but before long I saw it too, a black, triangular shape in the sky, moving very fast. In the mundane world, I would've assumed it to be either a fighter jet or attack helicopter, but this being the Norse underworld, it was more likely...

...Feckin' dragon. Of course. Same markings as the one we saw that argued with Brunhild. I bet it was the same one. As I was speculating on this, we were within seconds bathed in an eerie, cold fire that light up everything around us in a blueish glow. I knew that if I'd not been wearing my birthright armor, this would've probably hurt like feckin' hell...

Achtung, Baby! Part 9

It was a very intricate plan. And as the old Irish saying goes, the fancier the plumbing, the easier it is to clog up the works. Or maybe it's a Scottish saying. I don't feckin' remember, doesn't matter.

Anyway, Harlan tried to put one over on old Krieger. The old Kraut werewolf wasn't havin' any of it. In fact, he came round and tightened my bonds, though at the time I didn't realize notice as I was still voluntarily under Harlan's hypnosis. Well, negotiations broke down and it wasn't long before Harlan ended up taking a swing at Krieger, Nate jumped on stage and cut off the mayor's son's head (well, he was a werewolf himself and a Nazi collaborator, so don't feel too sorry for him). Ciara easily slipped lose of her bonds using some escape artistry I've not quite mastered myself. She already killed two Nazi guards before I finally broke my own bonds the old fashioned way, with good ol' Scion epic strength...unfortunately by that point, our plan had exploded just like my bonds, because by this point a number of children had been shot (two, by my count) and they and the rest of the children in the square had been rushed to the safety of nearby homes and businesses in the buildings surrounding the main square...so so much for flying Ciara's helicopter out safely with the children. It's just as well. With the way my luck's been in Wolfsheim so far, I wouldn't have been surprised if I got ambushed by Messerschmitts controlled by Nazi werewolves once I got airborne.

Anyway, once my bonds were loosed, I managed to pull out my Sig Sauer P226 service pistol and squeeze off a round at a Nazi werewolf guard while he took a shot at me with his rifle. My round merely grazed his torso and put a hole in his feldgrau uniform. Lucky for me, his rifle bullet hit my vest at a very odd angle and was deflected, though the impact hurt like feckin' hell.

I was about to line up for another shot when an eerie chorus of howls unlike anything I'd ever heard echoed all over the landscape. Suddenly, on opposite corners of the Wolfsheim town square sat two gigantic wolves, straddling the roofs of large buildings. They spoke in what I took to be Old Norse at first, which none of us could follow. They adjusted and switched to modern German. They directed their attention to Harlan, whom they addressed as "Uncle", for some reason. We learned their names to be Sköll and Hati. They explained they wanted to keep Wolfsheim for themselves. If we could fix the barrier (which by now we knew how to do) they would let us take as many humans with us as wanted to leave and allow us to live as well. Although I was just getting warmed up, and I personally thought we could take them, Harlan agreed to this arrangement before any of us could protest.

Sköll taunted Ciara and I both: "I thought you Irish were neutrals in the last war. If you want us to respect that, I suggest you listen to our uncle on this. Also, you will not harm the lesser werewolves further; they are under our protection and you will allow them to retreat."

The dazed remaining Werewolves shouldered their weapons, quietly assembled into a rough formation and began a slow route-step march out of town.

It was a bitter pill, but we agreed that Harlan had a point and it would minimize bloodshed. Sköll and Hati left, giving us 24 hours. Suddenly there was an explosion up at the munitions factory and a great cheer went up. Within minutes there were Goblins swarming the square wielding M-4 carbines, newly acquired. We stood in front of the human habitations and ordered the goblins to proceed to hunt the werewolves but to leave the humans here unmolested, explaining they were under our protection. The goblins were a bit confused, but reluctantly agreed. Before long, we could hear sounds of a fierce fire-fight erupting in the woods between goblins and werewolves. Luckily, as the forces shifted to gain advantage, both sides moved further and further from the center of town. This gave us the breathing room and time we needed to assemble the townspeople and take a quick poll of who wanted to leave and who wished to stay. I'd say we managed to convince about 1/3 of the populace that leaving was probably a good idea.

Nate furthermore had a very odd conversation with the Kami of the statue device in the middle of town...it was far more haughty and arrogant than its brother the silver rod had been. Nate asked the priestess what position the rod was in before they removed it; they told him what they could remember, and the rod was reinserted and shifted back to the way it was. The barrier lowered and we were able to evacuate early the next morning.

We managed to resettle the villagers but a lot of it was tricky, since some of had been descended from the original inhabitants in the late 18th century in a corner of Germany that time basically forgot. Not only did they lack modern skills, they lacked anything like proper paperwork, birth certificates, etc. I started the legal process of getting citizenship rolling, and, coordinating with Nate, Laurel did what she could for us from the USA, calling Nancy Pelosi's office and doing other things. I used my INTERPOL credentials as best I could and made some headway, but then suddenly things got rushed through as if by magic. It became far easier than it should have been, much to my pleasant surprise. One weekend, Aisling and I managed to slip away to Ireland...we got married in the Irish countryside near Tara by a very stoned Celtic Reconstructionist pagan Priestess who had been one of my former probationers in Dublin...I found her and promised not to Narc on her to her current probation officer in County Meath...I'd ignore the fact that she'd fallen off the wagon again if she'd do our marriage ceremony and keep things low key. She agreed and was most grateful and congratulatory.

Our union sanctified by the Irish state and the Tuatha de Danann, the new Mrs. Aisling O'Shea and I headed off for a week-long romantic honeymoon in Paris, France, before getting back to business helping Nate and Ciara with the resettlement of the Wolfsheim refugees. Some had descended from Rheinlanders and I helped some of them re-settle in and around Strassbourg, even though this was today part of France.
Some ended up resettling across the border in Austria. It was a complicated bureaucratic shuffle, but we managed to pull it off.

Aisling and I returned to my apartment in Lyon and I went back to doing case review work for INTERPOL while Aisling stayed home watching TV and trying to learn more about human history outside of Ireland. We had been back in Lyon only a few days before I heard from Nate that Laurel and Gunnar would be joining us back in Germany, and we'd all be heading back into Wolfsheim. It seems that Laurel felt we should go above and beyond for the people of Wolfsheim and that Dionysus had agreed to create a wine-growing commune for the displaced Wolfsheimers, so they could peacefully re-settle into the calm, quiet village life they were used to and even become economically sustainable on their own with a little Greek investment up front. But there's always a catch, of course, and that catch is, we needed to bring Dionysus the ol' statue in the middle of Wolfsheim. We agreed to give it a shot.

We all met in Stuttgart and headed back out on the regional train and then made our way by car to the outskirts of Wolfsheim and then proceeded on foot. Laurel was accompanied by a new band member, a young blonde American woman who carried an expensive camera and an even nicer hunting rifle slung across her back. She mentioned something about being a freelancer, something about National Geographic...I didn't really pay close attention, to be honest. I think her name was Kassandra, or something.

Laurel and Gunnar were also slightly shocked to see Aisling in her new form and even more shocked to learn we were now married, matching rings and everything. They had been told of all this, but it still took them by surprise to behold her with their own eyes.

Acquiring the statue itself was easier than I thought it would be. Well, we did run into Hati and Sköll again, and Gunnar had to lay low a bit...an Aesir like him was viewed as a rival and not welcome...but Gunnar was a skilled Chicago gumshoe & a skilled Norse woodsman and knew how to stay hidden and knew how to double back. Harlan also showed off his impressive fast-talking ability and before long had Hati and Sköll chasing Goblins in their realm---with no direct way to return to Wolfsheim.
Very nice fake out, I had to admit. A classic "Let's you and him fight", more or less.

We met Dionysus on the edge of town, with Nate easily toting the statue with one hand, holding it aloft and gently helicoptering it. What happened next went so fast I could hardly keep up with it. Dionysus was joined by Zeus and Odin, then suddenly Dionysus changed his visage and we saw before us Harlan's dad, the very Loki himself, who grabbed the statue from Nate saying "thanks so much,", and heading away with it at high speed. Zeus and Odin both hurled ranged attacks that utterly destroyed some of the trees on the edge of the forest, but Loki had already vanished.
The real Dionysus showed up, ashen faced, and changed himself from how he had looked at Laurel's wedding to his true god form, a muscular blonde and beautiful Greek man of indeterminate age. I didn't catch much of the conversation but I did think I heard him tell Laurel that he was "sorry" and that he had "fucked up big time.", he cradled his hands in his head in frustration, rubbing his temples...

Well, nothing left to do but damage control now. Our next task was to accompany Laurel and Gunnar to the Norse underworld known as Helheim, to ask the Goddess Hel herself for a small favor. I knew a thing or two about this place from legends I'd read in High School and college. Despite her protests, I put Aisling on the next train/ferry combo to Dublin; she carried Nevermore in a cage, and Kassandra's cat in a pet carrier. I had bought Aisling a British Army Royal Irish Regiment forest green caubeen with feather and silver harp crest and I put it on her head. She looked even more beautiful like that. I cautioned Aisling that this was another divine realm and there was no telling how long I might be gone, but to look after mother and Nevermore and Kassandra's cat until I returned. Aisling nodded, then pulled me to her and kissed me deeply for nearly a minute before letting go, looking deeply into my eyes and saying "I remain your loyal partner, always..."

Achtung, Baby! Part 8.

I showed the silver .223 shells to Harlan in the top of the M-16 magazine, then inserted it into the M4 carbine, pulled the charging handle, loading it, and clicked the safety on.

I handed it to Harlan and said, "Do I assume correctly you know how to use one of these?"

"Of course", said Harlan, slinging it over his shoulder. Wouldn't make sense for us to march in with my M-16 still strapped to my own back, after all.

I pulled out my full magazine of silver tipped 9mm for my Sig 226 showed Ciara.

"want any?"

Ciara looked with disdain and said "I don't need guns to do my job."

"Suit yerself.", I said, ejecting the regular magazine, racking the slide to eject the chambered lead round, and then inserting the all-silver tipped magazine and hitting the slide release, chambering the first silver round. I concealed my Sig 226 in the small of my back, under my jacket.

"I should probably also hypnotize you to make this sound convincing.", said Harlan.

Ciara and I reluctantly agreed.

"Also, one of you should probably hit me in the face so I can sell this cock & bull story to Krieger a little easier."

Ciara slugged him without further ado or discussion.

"Fuck!", said Harlan with a bit of anger and annoyance. Ciara shrugged and offered Harlan her make-up mirror. Harlan accepted it and looked himself over, rubbing his aching jaw..."Yeah, that'll do it. Thanks, babe.", he said, tossing the mirror back.

Ciara caught it in midair and replied cooly...
"You're welcome, and don't call me babe, you sexist pig."

I handed the silver rod to Aisling and told her to remain in the clearing with Nevermore until we signaled them the all-clear. Aisling agreed.

Nate would go on slightly ahead of us to be in position to offer himself in place of the priestess's daughter.

Achtung, Baby! Part 7

"Trust me, this is going to work", said Harlan, a bit exasperated.

"Run it by me again, so I understand it better", I said.

"I'm going to march us back into town, bound by ropes, and tell Krieger that you kidnapped me but I turned the tables on you and captured you because I need your Ichor to complete the magic spell that can break the barrier currently surrounding this place.", explained Harlan.

"That sounds utterly crazy.", objected Ciara.

"Crazy enough to work?" said Harlan, with hope.

"Crazy enough to get us all shot.", I said, flatly.

I argued that we should all volunteer to replace all of the kids for Kindernacht and tell some Werewolf bullies to pick on someone their own size for once.

Harlan argued that while that makes for a nice fairy tale, it won't necessarily bring Krieger in at close range where we can set him up and kill him.

Ciara indicated that she or someone with piloting skills could fly the kids to safety with her special keychain. I looked dumfounded.

"That car I drove in SFO?", Ciara began

"Yeah?" I said.

"That's THIS thing...", she said, showing me the key-ring. "It also can transform into a motorcycle or a helicopter."

I said I didn't believe it and to show me the chopper. Ciara complied. She even took me for a brief flying lesson. After a few minutes at the controls, I had the basics down and asked if I could do the landing. Ciara looked at me incredulously, but agreed. I came in for a picture perfect landing.

"I didn't know you were a pilot..." said Ciara.

"Neither did I, until a few minutes ago.", I said. "But I did stay in a Holiday Inn Express in Las Vegas once, for the great Gods Conference thing awhile back...."

Achtung, Baby! Part 6

Nate took off on reconnaissance that very night; Because he's much better at all that sneaking around stuff. Nate managed to break into Krieger's office and come back with a very old letter, partly damaged by insects eating it through the years, evidently from the late 1930s, and penned by none other than the somewhat mad and eccentric inventor Nikola Tesla himself. Harlan explained he was going to try to convince the Goblin king to lend his hand in a coordinated assault upon the Nazi werewolves of Wolfsheim. He performed the same odd dance the goblins had done and disappeared.

The next day, Nate had more successes sneaking around Wolfsheim. He spoke to the mayor in private and gained some valuable intel on where we could finally find the missing penitents of The Morrigan. Indeed, Nate had managed to find the daughter of one of the priestesses. Nate had also found out that the long-ago ritual of Kindernacht (the ritual sacrifice of children) that Ciara and I had read about in the library was evidently co-opted by the Nazi werewolf SS squad and the ritual is continued to this day, only now the children are hunted by the werewolves in their true form instead of by the goblins, who are kept away by military force. Evidently, it is possible for a adult to replace a child by volunteering to be hunted in their place. Nate had promised the young priestess's daughter he would serve as her proxy so she would not be hunted that night.

Nate was able to show Ciara and I the way to meet where the Coven of The Morrigan assembled to pray. Ciara greeted them first, in Gaelic, explaining who she was and who had sent her. Ciara was embraced happily by all of the priestesses, who wept for joy, declaiming that their prayers had been heard and answered. I got the distinct impression Ciara didn't like such overt physical contact, at least not in public. She didn't pull away, but just endured the embraces with a quiet, patient dignity. Nate and Nevermore emerged from the clearing and the Priestesses were on guard. I stepped out as well and re-assured them in Gaelic, motioning towards myself and the other two: "We are friends", I said.

"I'm Irish", I said in Gaelic, "and these are my friends."

" 'Allo, 'allo." said Nevermore cheerfully.

One of the Priestesses scowled and said in German, "He's British?"

I reassured in Gaelic, "Yeah, he's a right English bastard, but he tries not to call me Paddy or Mhic very much so I guess he's an alright chap..."

The priestesses produced a solid silver rod, explaining they'd taken it from the statue in the middle of town not two weeks ago. Nate put 2 and 2 together from what the mayor had said, and we all realized that this act is what had made Wolfsheim into a giant magical roach motel, only one way in, no way out. This metal rod would have to be reunited to open the barrier and let us escape.

I asked Nate if maybe he could speak to the "Kami" of the rod; I don't pretend to understand it, but it's this Japanese belief that spirits inhabit every object, that everything contains within it a spark of life-force. Nate addressed the rod and it came seemingly to life. The rod answered truthfully about what it knew of its own function and that it was really keen on being reunited with it's "brother", i.e. the statue. We reassured the Kami that we were really keen on that as well.

Achtung, Baby! Part 5

It was well after dark when Nate and Nevermore returned.

During the day, Aisling had briefed me on what Dad had asked her to convey to me, including handing over a few more gifts, including the very pen used by Michael Collins himself to sign the treaty with the British government creating the Irish Free State. Aisling explained that although it had no inherent powers of its own, it would allow me in the future to channel special powers from the "purviews" of Justice, Guardian, and War, said Aisling with uncertainty. I reassured her I knew what Dad meant. She also explained my engagement ring would "help you shoot better and help you fight better at close quarters with Gae Bolga...somehow."; Aisling looked a little confused as to how this could be possible but I again assured her I knew what Dad meant.

"Yer Dad also told me to do this," said Aisling, performing a ritual I wasn't quite familiar with and laying her hands upon my Irish Ranger Wing bullet proof vest. She produced a sheet of paper with a prayer scribbled in Old Irish in Ogham script, and then faithfully reproduced it in tiny letters upon my vest, repeating the prayer aloud from memory. The Ogham lettering glowed then faded and disappeared into the fabric of the vest. I felt the whole vest glow briefly and fill me with a magical warmth that faded a minute or so after the magical glow had faded.

We also talked briefly about our wedding plans...Aisling was pretty open to suggestion but on one thing she was firm: "Not Dublin.", she said.
Even though Dublin wasn't Chicago, Aisling had decided she didn't want a wedding in a big city of any kind. Just a simple country wedding, in the open air, she said wistfully.

I suggested the Sacred Hill of Tara, and Aisling agreed it would be nice, but wasn't sure Dad would approve...not just any Scion could ask to be wedded there, of all places. I suggested Mag Mell but Aisling stuck out her tongue...

"Not while SHE'S still running that show...no thank ye kindly...maybe we can renew our vows there when Master Gair grows up and takes over, but that's on down the road a bit..." said Aisling.

I noted it was a pity we couldn't invite Derrick to our wedding, as his geas would not allow him to attend. Same was likely true for Cordelia as well.

"Well, she was kind of a b*tch anyway...", said Aisling with a shrug.

I found I could talk to Aisling for hours and it never got old or boring. She knew me far to well to ever let that happen.

I looked up as Nate approached...

"So how'd it go?", I asked Nate, as he came back into the clearing.

"Not good.", said Nate.
He paused, then elaborated: "Yeah, apparently it's common knowledge around here that Hitler died in 1945 just like the history books say and all...see, I was trying to sorta bluff them that just maybe Der Führer was alive and well in Brazil, maybe and..."

I remembered this being the plot of a movie from the 1970s.

"You got that idea from the movies, right?", I inquired.

(Pause)

"Yeah."

"...and they didn't buy it?"

"No, not really. Didn't think it was very funny either."

"I'm genuinely shocked that failed, Nate, really I am.", I lied, resisting the urge to face-palm.

"So 'itler's dead'n'all, can't we just declare victory and go the hell home then?", said Nevermore only half-jokingly.

To our great surprise, Harlan and Ciara reappeared from the Fairy Circle of toadstools in the clearing mound, fully awake and with quite an adventure to relate to Nate and myself and Aisling. Harlan and Ciara stared at Aisling and I said formally, "Everyone, this is my fiancee, Aisling..."

Achtung, Baby! Part 4.

I was deep in penitent prayer when I heard some stomping through the underbrush the next morning and voiced in...English?

Then a crow landed on a branch beside me. Not just any old crow, either.

"Oi! Paddy wanna bandaid?", said Nevermore, before cracking up into what passes for laughter among birds, I suppose. He'd said it exactly as a human would say "Polly want a cracker" to a parrot.

"Oh very feckin' funny...", I said, wincing. I concentrated deeply and my wounds closed up all over my body.

"Y'know, I'm glad you waited to do that...made findin' you a lot easier, y'know...", said Nevermore, a bit more seriously.

I produced a wee bottle of Jameson's Irish Whiskey that I picked up in the Duty Free Shoppe in Dublin Airport...

"That's for minding Aisling in SFO", I said. "I won't tell Laurel."

Nevermore's eyes brightened..."Speakin' of, mate, I'm not the only bird what Nate brought along on dis here trip, ifn you catch my meaning...", he said, motioning towards the ground with his head and beak.

I looked down and saw Nate enter the clearing; behind him a few steps was a strikingly beautiful young woman with long, flowing, silvery-white hair I'd know anywhere...my heart skipped a beat. Ogma had heard and answered my prayers.

"Aisling!", I called out, then jumped down from the tree.

"Brendan!!!" she cried, rushing past Nate, who raised his hand in greeting and said simply "Yo."

Aisling kissed me deeply for a solid minute, pausing only to catch her breath and say "I love you" in Gaelic. She was petite in stature but curvy in all the right places.

Nate coughed and looked around the clearing. Nevermore flew down and landed on the truck's roof and said "...right, you two can get a room later, 'k? For now, Nate here be needin' a SITREP kinda ASAP."

I detailed for Nate all that had transpired since our arrival in Wolfsheim, and explained our encounter with Harlan, and what he'd related of his experiences as well. I handed Harlan's ID over to Nate. "My guess is he's a fellow Federal government employee of some stripe," I said. Nate looked at the ID, nodded, the put it away in his pocket.

Nate decided he and Nevermore were going to head into town. I declined, having been recently shot there and all. Apparently Irish neutrality in WW2 didn't mean much to Nazi werewolves in the 21s century.

When Nate and Nevermore had left the clearing, Aisling produced a tiny wooden box and said "yer Da told me to give this to you, said you would know what to do with the contents. He forbade me to open it until I found you."; she spoke with the same soft County Galway rural country girl accent she always had, only richer and more full.

I opened the box and found two Claddagh rings...one with a gold band and a silver heart. The other with a silver band and a golden heart. Over the gold banded ring I saw my name in Ogham script. Over the silver banded ring was Aisling's name, also in Ogham script. I placed the gold banded ring on my finger, and it glowed softly. I pulled out the silver-banded Claddagh ring and dropped to one knee before Aisling, placed the ring on her finger.

"Aisling, will you marry me?", I asked in Gaelic.

Aisling started to cry, and let out an involuntary squeal of joy and excitement...

"Fer fuck's sake I thought ye'd never ask!" she blurted out in English with a laugh...she smiled warmly and said after a solemn pause, "Aisling O'Shea has a very nice ring to it...so I think I have to say 'yes'. Yes, Brendan O'Shea, I will marry you, if that is your wish."

"Yer the answer to my prayers, my love, and that is my deep and abiding wish.", I said, simply.

Both rings glowed brightly for a brief second then faded.

Achtung, Baby! Part 3

Ciara explained a little of the history of this town. Relatively new, as German history goes, having been founded in 1805, in the midst of the Napoleonic Wars. The founder of the town apparently had a problem with Goblins. Some sort of deal was worked out involving the giving up (read: sacrifice) of one child a year to ensure the peace. Also, evidently something happened in 1943. A Nazi unit moved into this little corner of of Germany known as Wolfsheim and apparently never left. It's like that wild story of one of those Japanese soldiers found in the 1960s on a deserted Pacific Island who thought the war was still on and killed one of his "rescuers", an American soldier if I recall.

As we exited the Library, Ciara and I were accosted by a well-dressed American man in English, who was being handled rather roughly by some of the guards in field gray SS uniforms. Ciara caught on, and shouted something about a Goblin attack, in German, at the top of her lungs. Her voice seemed to carry and echo and take on a life of its own, spreading a general sense of panic throughout the town. All but one of the (Neo?)Nazi guards left the American's side in search of the non-existent Goblin invasion. The American motioned towards us and I could overhear him haggle with the guard...."you don't understand, I NEED those two to pull this off!! If the Goblins get them, I'm telling Krieger it's your fault!"

The guard looked frustrated, then turned to Ciara and I and motioned with his rifle towards the tavern entrance.

Sie beide! Hinein ins Gasthaus! Sofort!

Ciara and I nodded and circled round to where the American was standing. The guard impatiently pushed us along with his rifle at port arms, and closed the tavern door behind us.

The tavern owner looked up quizzically and asked what the devil was going on?

"Your humble village is under attack by Goblins", said the American, in perfectly accented German. He even looked a little "aryan" with his neatly styled blonde hair and grey-blue eyes.

The tavern owner's eyes went wide with terror and he seized a large 18th century musket of the sort that probably fired on Napoleon's advancing armies around the time this town was founded. I had assumed it was a decorative piece of art when I'd seen it, but now that I looked at it more closely, it was clearly a fully functioning and well-maintained piece of Napoleonic era military equipment.

He motioned for us to get behind him, stating he would do his best to protect his guests.

We made our way to the rear of the tavern, to the store room. Brief introductions were made. The American's name was Harlan Gray. He knew I worked for Interpol, based in Lyon, France, having risen up the ranks of the Irish GARDA. He also knew Ciara was the daughter of an Irish War Goddess, and that I was a son of Ogma, also of Pantheon Tuatha de Danann. "As for me, well, like you, I also have a divine parent and special abilities just like you do."

Harlan explained his having arrived in Wolfsheim ahead of us, and his meeting with Colonel Krieger, the SS commander of this area, whose office is located in the munitions factory upon the hill. Harlan further explained that he has been told that once someone enters this particular Terra Incognita, it is evidently impossible to leave. Harlan bragged that he managed to bluff Krieger into believing that he (Harlan) had the ability to cast a spell to open up the Terra Incognita to the rest of the world again, but that he was going to need our help to pull off the next step of his plan against Krieger.

"Oh, and I almost forgot the most important part. The Nazi guys? They're all werewolves in Human form. So if you've got any silver weapons, that'd be a good thing."

I showed Harlan my silver dagger. I'd decide later whether or not to reveal the silver bullets I'd crafted for my firearms. I hadn't even told Ciara that.

"That's all well and good," I said, "...but for the time being, do you think we can get the feckin' hell out of this crazy little village?"

Ciara agreed and we managed to slip out the back door and into the woods. We made our way back to the clearing where we'd seen the fairy circle of mushrooms. Harlan was skeptical of the alleged barrier..."I mean, maybe it keeps in humans and wimpy werewolves, but I'm a Demi-god, and you two are high level Hero Scions. I say we test this sucker."

Having survived the SoCal Terra Incognita and the Battle of Mag Mell, I wasn't quite so eager as either Harlan or Ciara to put this to the test. "Suit yourself," said Ciara in Gaelic..."What's the worst that could happen?"

The two set off side by side down the gravel road towards where the barrier was reputed to be. As I stood watching them in the distance, they both suddenly lost consciousness and crumbled into a heap on the road ahead.

I assessed Ciara's health first; She was alive, but her pulse was weak, breathing was very shallow and it was clear she was out cold, coma-like, and utterly unresponsive. Harlan was similarly incapacitated. I rifled through his pockets and came up with his photo ID, a driver's license from "Alexandria, VA", which I knew was a suburb of Washington DC and home to many employees of the US Federal Government. Mr. Gray could be anything from State Department to a Senator's aide, from Homeland Security to FBI to CIA to any of the other "alphabet soup" agencies the US is famous for, or some odd combination like that.

I hoisted both of their limp bodies upon my shoulders like sacks of potatoes. I found my way back to the abandoned pick-up truck we'd found on the road earlier that Ciara had checked was still running. I dumped Harlan in the bed of the truck, and the laid Ciara gently across the passenger's seat...I let her head rest gently on my shoulder as I drove the truck to the edge of the clearing. She drooled a bit but I wouldn't tell her that. I'd gotten far worse on my GARDA jacket over the years...hell, the past few months in New Orleans, for that matter.

It was one of those long truck seats that's really more like a bench, so I was able to lay Ciara stretched out in a comfortable resting position after I stopped the truck. I balled up her jacket like a pillow and put it underneath her head. I opened the windows a crack on both sides to allow ventilation. I then locked both doors and put the truck key in Ciara's pocket, then shut the doors behind me.

I floated up into the trees using my runic Celtic tatoo and perched on a branch, well concealed in the tree canopy. Night was falling, and soon it would be completely dark in the forest. Time crept by. I reached instinctively for my whiskey flask but remembered again that it was with Dad...because Aisling was with Dad, too. My heart ached as I realized how much I missed her; How much I wanted her to be there with me in that tree, so we could talk, tell jokes, pass the time.

I had figured that if the Nazis and the Goblins were mortal enemies, if Harlan was telling the truth about that...then our best bet would be to run into some Goblins tonight...hopefully a Goblin patrol would find us.

I was very surprised when the mushrooms of the Fairy Circle began to glow in an ethereal light and two short, stocky figures emerged from the raised mound. I kept completely silent, just observing. I heard a guttural language that was almost like German, but very rudimentary and crude...imagine if such a thing as German "ebonics" existed...or maybe the way Traveler's Shelta sounds compared to formal and proper Gaelic...

They found Harlan right away and hefted his body out of the truck. They had a bit more difficulty figuring out the lock on the truck, but in time they managed to jimmy the lock with a thin wire with a loop...they used the crack I'd left for ventilation, ironically, to hook round the unlocking knob and pull it up and open.
Carrying both limp bodies back over to the mound, they grunted "...must take to his majesty...", and they began to...dance? A crude Germanic jig of some sort...? The light grew brighter, there was a blinding flash that lit up the clearing almost bright as day, and then they were gone.

Very interesting. I wasn't worried, though. I figured that the best place for two unconscious scions to be was as far away from Nazi werewolves as possible and in the hands of enemies of said Nazi werewolves. Enemy of my enemy isn't always my friend, but it often tends to work out that way, at least in the short term.

Curiosity got the better of me, though, so I decided to take to the air and see what I could see of the factory, maybe swing in a little closer for a better look, see if there was anything special about the type of munitions being made there...

It looked heavily guarded, not unlike a prison compound...not unlike The Order's compound in Northern California, actually. Lots of search lights scanning the air...for what? allied planes?? Sheesh, probably security protocols unchanged since 1943 as well.

As if by way of answer, I flew straight into a flak barrage...or more accurately, as I was lost in idle thoughts like these, one of the big beams illuminated me completely and the Gerry Werewolves opened up on me with M-16 rifle fire on fully automatic. I had my bullet proof vest on, and I started to dash up and away nearly immediately, but still some of their rifle shells managed to penetrate. For the record, bullets still feckin' hurt...a lot!

I made my way back to the open clearing where the Goblins had taken away Harlan and Ciara, evading active Werewolf patrols and wishing now I'd asked the Goblins nicely to take me as well...feckin' hell..

I landed back on the same tree with the excellent canopy cover and clasped my hands together and began to pray to my heavenly father, Oh Ogma most wise....guide and protect me in this my darkest hour...I decided not to heal myself just yet...I felt as though the pain would underscore my piety in that moment, that I was willing to endure great suffering for his sake...I switched from English, to Gaelic, to Old Irish. I notched sacred Ogham script into the tree with my silver dagger and kissed them. Even though she can't read Ogham, I scratched Aisling's name in Ogham and kissed that as well. I scratched my name beside hers, along with the Old Irish word for love. Oh, Ogma how I love her so. I need her so...please....please....

Achtung, Baby! Part 2.

I met Ciara at the Stuttgart Hauptbahnhof as planned. As luck would have it, my connecting train from Strassbourg arrived into Stuttgart on track one, so that when I stepped off the train, Ciara was there waiting for me.

I gave her a polite greeting in Gaelic, which she responded to in kind.

"It could be challenging to find this place...", she began.

"I think this might help.", I said, pulling out the map; "Dad gave it to me for this mission," I continued, handing it over to Ciara to inspect.

I motioned Ciara to follow me to a rail map of Germany posted as a traveler's reference guide by the Deutsche Bahn.

"So, cross referencing these two maps...", I said, then ran my finger down the regional train schedules, "it looks as though the closest we can get by rail is here", I pressed a finger on the rail map, "...and from there, we'll need to rent a car to make it the rest of the way. As you can see, it's a bit off the beaten path."

Ciara agreed, and we bought open ended return regional rail tickets and boarded one of the smaller regional trains at the other end of the station. Once safely aboard, Ciara briefed in Gaelic about the vision she had received from her mother, going into more detail than she had been able to squeeze into her text message. The Germans around us raised their eyebrows a bit at the strange language we were speaking. Not every day that one hears Irish spoken outside of Ireland. For the non-mission-sensitive smalltalk, we stuck to English. This reassured our fellow passengers, who, even for the ones who didn't know it fluently, at least recognized the familiar sounds of English, even of my Irish brogue. A few of them even put 2 + 2 together and I could hear whispers of Die zwei da kommen aus Irland!

We could've spoken German, but we would be doing plenty of that soon enough. Ciara tactfully avoided bringing up the topic of Aisling or that I was no longer in possession of her carrying case.

I certainly wasn't going to bring up Laurel's reception...I'm sure Ciara wouldn't tell me anything Aisling said in confidence; I'm just grateful Ciara wasn't berating me about it now. There's a joke that women have a network that rivals the CIA. It's no joke, it's real...doubly so for scions, I think. Ciara wasn't frosty towards me, just more even keeled and strictly business. I could handle that just fine.

We reached the end of the rail line at a quaint but still sizable German small city. Luckily we were able to find a car rental agency catering to tourists wanting to explore the Black Forest. With a full tank of petrol, we headed out onto the open road. As we proceeded, the woods continued to grow more thick and dark. Even though it was a clear day with few clouds in the sky, the canopy overhead became so thick I instinctively switched on the lights.

At the appropriate spot on Dad's map, I turned off down onto an unimproved gravel road, leading deeper into the forest. As Ciara and I passed a seemingly arbitrary line on Dad's map, we both felt a chill and a shudder come over us. For me at least, it was a familiar feeling from the mission in southern California. I don't know if Ciara had ever felt such a thing before, but the way she shuddered involuntarily, I knew she felt this one same as I had.

We kept driving.

Soon, we could see the hamlet...Dörfchen as the Germans would say, beginning to come into view further up the road. Given the extreme unlikelihood of finding decent parking within the city limits, we parked on the edge of town behind an abandoned pick-up truck. Ciara investigated the truck, and noticed some tracks leading away from the truck. She found the keys to the truck and started the engine. Satisfied, she turned it off again. I got out to stretch and pointed out that one of the truck tires was...well, not precisely flat, but very low in pressure relative to the others.

I also scrutinized the tracks more closely. While I recognized the footprints of ordinary mortals, there was something not quite right about what Ciara had identified as "children's" footprints. No, given the angle of the toes, relative to the adult footprints...this was more like a creature...it most reminded me of Pondscum's tracks in the California Terra Incognita. I pointed this out to Ciara, who speculated we could very well be looking at Goblin tracks. We followed them a ways to a clearing in the forest, where we found what in the mortal world are commonly referred to as faerie mounds, a ring of toad-stools growing together. Something mere mortals would dismiss as superstition and folklore; We as Scions knew better, though. I made a notation on Dad's map, marking the spot.

Ciara and I decided to go ahead and proceed into town, on the main road. The first thing we noticed was the odd clothing of many individuals. While many were dressed in modern dress, including jeans and t-shirts, many others were dressed in far older clothes. One would almost think of Rothenburg-ob-der-Tauber, or other well-preserved medieval towns, where some locals dress in ancient garb to ply the tourist trade...but I got the odd feeling this simply wasn't the case. It looked too genuine, and the people thusly dressed were far too unselfaware. They were not, however, unaware of us. Ciara and I were definitely noticed as foreigners in their midst and definitely an object of curiosity. More disturbingly, I noticed men on duty in German military uniforms, carrying M-16A2 assault rifles. Because of the American make of the weapons, I assumed them to be ordinary Bundeswehr soldiers at first.

But something didn't seem quite right. After 1945, the Bundeswehr had quite self-consciously distanced its uniform design from more "classic" German uniform patterns of the past. These uniforms were more in line with the "classic" type and at variance with what I knew about standard Bundeswehr uniforms. It had been some time since I'd last served with German soldiers on joint United Nations operations, but...

Without drawing attention to myself, I scrutinized the uniforms more closely. They were standard Feldgrau combat uniforms reminiscent of the WW2 era. Wehrmacht?, I thought? Then I saw the telltale Armvogel, the small runic double S's on the collars...Schutzstaffel. Feckin' SS!

...only, these weren't military surplus from the 1940s. These were...must have been...replica uniforms. They looked far too new, freshly made. If I were a mere mortal and not a Scion inside a Terra Incognita, I would think "Movie?", but no, I had a very bad feeling about this. Very bad indeed. I pointed out this detail to Ciara, whispering it to her in English.

She pulled away in surprise and looked at me. "Well that's disturbing...", she said.

About that time I noticed a strange statue in the middle of the village...it was a figure of a man, perhaps in his 50s, pointing upward at the sky...the figure was encased in a triple arch superstructure that met at a single point over his head and from which a single spire rose high into the heavens. The figure was composed of one sort of metal, while the superstructure was of another kind of metal, one darker than the other. Definitely an odd objet d'art, but beyond that I didn't know what to make of it, really, other than it looked a little too modernistic and out of place in a quaint hamlet such as this.

Ciara headed off to the library to do some research, so I decided to hit the local tavern. I hadn't noticed any churches yet in this village so I decided to inquire if the barman knew if any of the locals were into worshiping pagan gods...perhaps Celtic gods? The Celts, of which the Milesians of Ireland had been but a clan, had once peopled nearly all of Europe, with settlements stretching as far afield as Bulgaria...later wiped out or interbred with the invading Germanic hordes which these people around us were mostly descended. Even the Celtic Gauls of France had seen the name of their country, Gaul, transformed to the name France, taken from the Frankish tribe of the German invaders. Those Franks interbred with the Gauls and adapted Latin Roman language and culture, producing France as we knew it today. The Romans of Hispania (Spain), too, were overrun by blond Visigoth overlords who similarly embraced Latin Roman culture and language and made it their own.

The barkeep snorted, poured me a dark local brew, and asked me how, as a complete stranger, I could ask such a patently offensive and deeply personal question...I asked if perhaps he had any Guinness on tap but he looked mystified and said no. I took a polite sip of the dark brew---actually quite good (I really do appreciate German beermaking and don't just restrict myself to Celtic suds). I apologized, explaining that I was a foreigner from Ireland and very ignorant of local customs.

The barman nodded and said that yes, indeed, there were some locals who still worshiped the old pagan gods but that that was a matter of freedom of conscience and he didn't make it his business to interrogate his neighbors about such deeply personal things.

I tried a different tac. I asked what the Statistisches Bundesamt had found during the last census taken in 1987 with respect to religion in their region. The man looked at me this time as if I were speaking Martian, or Gaelic. I knew that 1991 general census had been abandoned in the wake of German reunification, and that a nationwide census had not been conducted since that time, but perhaps there were regional reports? But it seemed the very agency name, Statistisches Bundesamt, completely baffled this man.

Keine Ahnung was das sein soll.

"I have no idea what it is you are speaking of."

"Nevermind,", I said dismissively with a wave of my hand, paid for the beer, and left, headed to the Library. Turns out Ciara had uncovered some interesting things while over there.