Nate and I took the long haul flight from Shannon Airport to Boston out to SFO. We knew something was up, as Nate's metaphysical warning system he calls "vigil brand" had gone off...Susan, Laurel's half-sister, had been stabbed in the leg. Beyond that, we didn't know anything. Whatever was going on it would be over long before we got there.
Nate called from his cellphone as we were waiting for our flight. Susan answered and said she was ok but couldn't tell us over the phone what had happened, just please get home quickly, etc.
Gunnar, Laurel and Jack drove back to Dublin to catch an Aer Lingus flight direct to O'hare airport in Chicago. Camila also flew out of Shannon Airport but not with us. She flew via JFK to Las Vegas and muttered something about wanting to get in some hiking in the Grand Canyon. Not that Camila wasn't already laconic before, but there was any icy silence around her and the rest of the band after the conclusion of the Mag Mell operation.
We arrived in SFO and made out way out to Berkley, to Laurel's home. It looked as though it had been through a war. Out front, a very muscular man with power tools was working in the front yard. He walked up and shook both our hands, and introduced himself as Hercules, the one and only.
A small sports car pulled up across the street and Camila got out and stood around, not making eye contact with any of us or saying anything.
A chill went down my spine as a woman, dressed mostly in black, with some telltale raven iconongraphy, came out the front door and greeted us with a cool contempt.
"Hi there! Who are you?", Nate said, turning to face her, attempting to be friendly in that oddly endearing Half-Japanese, half American-West way of his. It was wasted on this one, though. Frostily, the woman introduced herself....
"...my mother sent me to ensure you complete the task that was assigned to you of late. My name...is Ciara Vogel"; noticing my GARDA duty jacket, she turned to me and asked pointblank,
"Where is the Eye now?"
"In Chicago.", I said.
She rolled her eyes and shook her head in disbelief; it took her a few moments to fight back the urge to say gods only knew what before asking through gritted teeth...
"and what is it doing in Chicago?"
"...it's being carried by the crazy Ostman who unlocked it in the first place. They'll be along soon; he's getting married to the owner of this fine house."
The topic of Mag Mell came up, with Nate explaining awkwardly that Manannán mac Lir had not survived the battle.
"How did THAT happen?", demanded Ciara.
I interrupted to ask Ciara in Irish Gaelic if she spoke Irish Gaelic. She confirmed that she did.
Without making any motions with my body or head, I said very plainly, in Gaelic; "See the one in black over there across the street with the sports car? She shot him with a bow."
Ciara's eyes went wide for a moment, then her face reverted to a disapproving scowl.
"How could you let that happen?" she hissed in Gaelic, but didn't wait for a reply from me, turning to go back inside the house.
Hercules came back over to us. "Sorry 'bout the mess, by the way. You boys missed all the action. Tell you all about it once Laurel gets home."
A few days later, Gunnar, Jack, Laurel and a very uncomfortable Sly showed up in a convertible open-top rental car, with Jack holding the Eye steady, while Sly looked quite uncomfortable and contorted by the Eye taking up most of his car-space.
After some awkward introductions we held a meeting with everyone. Young Brendan Gair volunteered that he killed a "mecha-wolf", then nearly got himself killed, but Charlotte and Susan came and healed him. I got the impression being mended by two budding but older-than-him teen girls made Brendan say to himself "...totally worth it!"; He gave a thumbs up and a nod to Gunther while he related that part of his story. Gunther just rolled his eyes and looked off into space..."man, you're crazy..." he muttered. Alex was there but Jamie wasn't. It wasn't until a few days later that we were all informed the horrible truth of what had transpired to poor Alex and his twin brother and his human mother.
Ciara explained she had arrived just in time to save the kids, who testified that indeed Ciara had helped them immensely and that they probably would be dead now if Ciara hadn't made it to Laurel's place just when she did....then the proverbial Cavalry came, crashing through the roof, in fact, in the persons of none other than Laurel's divine parent Apollo and accompanied by Hercules. The mechanical abominations they had faced were of Greek origin, and all the clues fell into place regarding the UCLA incident involving Watson, etc. None of which I could report back to INTERPOL, though I keep feeling if anyone at INTERPOL would not flinch from the truth, it was my boss Jacques Lyotard. I keep having my suspicions about Jacques. If a scion such as myself could rise through the ranks in GARDA to join INTERPOL, surely a scion could rise up through the Gendarmerie Nationale to become my boss at INTERPOL. The way we keep eying each other, I suspect Jacques knows exactly what I am, just like I feel increasingly confident that Jacques is no mere mortal either.
Ciara made it clear that at least one of our band would be required by her to guard the Eye of Balor at all times until it was safely sealed away. That established, Gunnar invited us all to Chicago for his Bachelor party and to take in a Cubs game. I rolled my eyes and muttered "Jayzus, can we at least watch a Chicago team that can actually win, like the feckin' White Sox?"
Gunnar gave me an angry look but said nothing.
It was going to be in about a week. In the meantime, Gunnar stated, he let us know about what had transpired in Chicago, and also that his father had asked him to beta-test some facility in Ohio. I looked at my calendar and announced I really, really needed to get over to UC Berkley and hit the books to do some research on sealing that pesky Eye...partly to impress Ciara and partly because....well, let's just say I make it a point to stay in touch with institutions of higher learning wherever I go.
I caught up to Gunnar in a week in Chicago, landing at O'Hare airport and sampling a world famous Chicago-style hotdog when I got there.
Over much protest from Aisling, I had left her in Laurel's care for this trip...
"Sorry my dear, but this is a guys-only thing."
Aisling stomped her tiny feet and tears welled up in her eyes...she looked about to say something but couldn't decide what to say or which language to say it in...
"...There there, luv, now don't cry..." piped in Nevermore.
"tell you what, I'll take you flying out over San Francisco Bay at Dusk, often as you like...how's that sound? Golden Gate Bridge is really beautiful from the air...London Bridge ain't too shabby neither, but the Yanks build everything bigger..."
Aisling wiped the tears from her eyes and nodded vigorously.
Behind Aisling's back, I gave Nevermore a thumbs up sign and mouthed "thank you! I owe you one."
"One bottle o' Jamesons', to be precise, copper..." said Nevermore in a businesslike manner without skipping a beat. More cheerfully, he continued "C'mon, Aisling, let's ditch this bore..."
Aisling looked over her shoulder at me, stuck out her tongue, then followed Nevermore into the air to perch in a nearby tree.
I waved goodbye to Aisling. She looked into the air and sniffed. Then looked at me and waved quickly, then went back to pretending to ignore me, while Nevermore preceded to tell salty jokes from Merry Olde England...
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