Chapter 141: 141
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Inside the package wasn't only the bottle but an address for Mr. Ashland's flagship enterprise. He figured, if that wasn't enough to keep the devil group's interests from focusing on him, at least he was forewarned that they were too strong to mess with at all and he needed to make a run for it. With all his running around, he had seen signs of the Masons and even that august group didn't clash toe to toe with the Rose Cross. Holding similar roots notwithstanding, they were the twin giants of the secret societies from what he could gather, at least in the Americanus continent.
Returning 'home', He was stopped by Neil. "You didn't happen to see my guest leave, did you?"
Grimly, Orison said, "Not only have I seen her, Neil, but I had her picked up. As much as I'd like to allow your self revulsion for booze addled behavior to stand, its too dangerous to leave you in the dark."
Orison gave a gentle breakdown to an increasingly skeptical, Neil.
The detective said, "How much of this baloney do you expect me to swallow without any proof? A witch with a devil pact..."
The detective spit all his doubts out into the open and Orison led off with, "How many geriatrics have you picked up in the past to not have some doubt about all this? Give me a little suspension of disbelief for a minute... Lady comes to find out what really happened when three of her organization's tightest knit group of lackeys goes off the rail. The trail leads here but she's not in any hurry and decides to get a little fringe benefit out of it.
"Follow me... You see him, Neil? You probably don't recognize him, right. He's Slim, one of the guys who was geared up to beat the stuffing out of you the other day. Now he's a young and relatively healthy guy. I'm sure Jen told you about how bad off he was... He's starting to stir a little. Let's give him a bit more time so we can finish our conversation first."
He gave a little more breakdown before revealing the magic circle and demonstrating its effects. Neil was understandably freaked but Orison calmly answered his questions. The detective didn't trust him and didn't trust his words. Fumbling a card out of his wallet, Neil called Zeke. That conversation didn't go as he thought it would.
Wanting to earn a little goodwill back, Orison said, "Would you rather believe that you'd predate on a sick old lady, even drunk, than believe you were the victim of supernatural events? If you're willing to buy that, why would you automatically assume that just because I'm the one that revealed it, that I might be the one behind it? It would literally serve me better to let you go on believing that you banged a granny.
"I exposed myself to you because I'm worried about your safety! If you want some space, I'll give it but if you poke your finger in my face when I've done nothing but try to help you, then there's nothing more I can do but cut you loose. Don't overly worry about what Zeke said. Here's twenty. Take the car out for the day and clear your head. If you want me gone when you get back, I'll go."
Neil took the car keys and the money. Orison was fairly sure that some alone time would serve the detective a whole lot more than a bucket of words. With one problem on the way of hopefully being solved, he turned to the other.
Roughly a quarter hour later, Jacob sat up with a gasp. Eyes focused on Orison for all of thirty seconds before the man started crying like the broken hearted and lost person he was in truth. Moral clarity likely only let him see more to hate about himself which wasn't overly helpful.
Trying to offer some consolation, Orison said, "You were possessed, quite literally. It doesn't excuse everything but it would be more than just hard to be a good person with a literal devil whispering dark deeds in your ear all the time."
He saw it coming. Jacob asked if James and Jimmy were possessed and if they could help them. Orison agreed in the possibility but said the chances weren't good. James was pretty much gone with only a few old driving principles left, like sticking up for his brother when it was convenient for him. Jimmy was a little more complicated but Orison knew who Jacob really cared about trying to save.
It took a lot more talking through everything and some reassurances about parts of himself being actual parts of himself for Jacob to begin fishing the pieces of his shattered life into any semblance of order. Then Orison launched into a round of validating certain inconvenient truths about Jacob. Following that, they had an awkward back and forth where Orison showed support without giving false impressions of sharing inclination or having interest.
Trying to hold it together long enough to have a coherent talk about future plans, Jacob said, "I don't know what to do. I don't even know where to go."
Orison shrugged. "Aside from financially, I'm not that much better off on the stable environment front. In about two weeks, I'll be meeting up with a friend and I'll know more from there. When I brought you here to heal you, I wasn't planning on doing more than making sure you weren't going to die and sending you to figure things out on your own.
"Working off the principle that you can tolerate just about anything for a couple of weeks, you can shadow me. If you still haven't reached an idea by then, I'm buying you a ticket to the Cisco Bay and enough money to keep you floating for three months. I figure you have a better chance of finding your way there than anywhere else. Sound like a plan for the moment?"
Jacob helplessly nodded.
When Neil returned, tensions were running too high for steak and loaded potato Saturday to gloss over. A fight almost broke out between him and Jacob before the detective realized that picking on the man would just make him feel bad since a single harsh word was enough to reduce the fragile guy into a sobbing, apologetic mess. Then he almost got into it with Orison but the young mage wasn't taking the bait. He just calmly asked if he needed to leave.
As angry and confused as Neil was at the moment, his logic centers screamed at him how bad of an idea driving Orison away was. And it seemed that, at the moment, Jacob was identifiable as a fellow victim. Underneath it all, Neil was still a bit of a white knight, even if his armor was rusty and some of his personal life choices were questionable.
To give them both a little piece of mind, Orison made two anti-possession charms that weren't much more than security blankets with a pitiful amount of real protective power. Next, he made something a little more useful. Substitution poppets that had a vague similarity to their holders for curse catching were made as they were invited to watch. With a dab of blood on a little felt heart sewn into them, the project was complete and the finished mini arts and crafts festival seemed to help clear the air a bit more.
Being introduced to such things and a strong desire to seek any lifeline to help them feel safer in a world that seemed much more hostile and dangerous to them, Neil and Jacob both wanted to be taught whatever could be. Despite having an abundant life force, each of them lacked one of the crucial elements in practicing ritual magic but together they could. Having been a victim of possession, Jacob's soul had been stimulated to be more actively productive but his will was hazy and unfocused. Despite not portraying it well, Neil had a strong will, he was just lazy and unmotivated with little spiritual growth even by normal human standards.
Entering an uneasy partnership, the detective and ex-thug helped fill in what the other lacked. Over the next couple of days, Orison finished preparing a primer of information that would see the two in good standing for learning and practice material for quite some time. It was a hard road but there was some hope if they stuck with the meditation, exercise and practice, they could naturally awaken to a gift. As for climbing, Orison didn't really see them being able to reach the requirements in such an impoverished reality. Chrism was a possibility to bridge the gap but it was a lot more risky to use for such a thing than he had originally believed it to be.
After having studied the effects of chrism, Orison discovered just how lucky he and his original companions had been to encounter it in the way they had. It was dangerous and corrupting. It took a strong soul and will to shape it into something helpful. Even the nebulous, pre-structured and tamed form Orison had originally been exposed to had nearly wrecked him in ways he hadn't realized until much later. Using that method to directly induct a mundane into a climber would be sheer idiocy unless conducted by a person stronger and more knowledgeable than himself or anyone else that Orison knew.
Risk versus reward, it just didn't seem worth pursuing chrism anymore. Its benefit to himself had nearly been reduced to superior crafting material and after being briefed by Zeke, the brushes with mad gods in the illusion were like kiddie versions of the real thing. They warped and corrupted all they came in contact with. Greater reality itself rejected their presence and they could only linger in places like this, dying realities slowly drifting towards the void.
It was pure fantasy to waltz into one's resting place and suck it up with a couple of one use artifacts. He had been told more than once that such creatures required a group of tier fours. There was even a brief passage translated from the journal that mentioned a successful team's capture of one. They took years to recover from it and that was considered a 'good' run. It's quite likely his share from the event that had turned the magi from a despotic ruler into an insane, reality hopping hermit.
During his own studies and trainings, Orison would occasionally revisit the Neil and Jacob issue. By the third day of their roommate status, Neil and Jacob weren't that much more comfortable with each other but they had learned to appreciate what the other had to bring to the table. The next hump was getting them past mutual use into cooperative learning.
Taking a break from a tricky passage he was trying to translate, Orison checked in on his students' sigil wallpaper project. "Alright, Jacob. Neil isn't your chauffeur. You're supposed to be interacting, not just paying for the gas... Neil, don't edge him out. Jacob is more than just a gas tank.
"Spirit essence is like money. You gotta spend it to make it while making sure you don't go broke. Neil, start spending a little... Will is the spiritual equivalent to muscle. You got to wear it out so that when you rest it becomes stronger. Jacob, start exercising that flab."
Orison was saved from the process of Neil trying to make an argument for himself before accepting and Jacob needing to be riled up before he'd step up, by a knock at the door. Neil stepped out of the kitchen before closing it's door into the office. A minute later he came back to tell Orison it was for him, returning to the project as if he'd never left.
What was waiting for him was three foot lockers that had lots of stamps on them. After answering a 'password' delivery instruction, he dragged them to his room and rummaged through them. The bulk was neat junk and nonsense but carefully hidden away inside were some real gems, literally real gems. They even had a touch of boundary item status.
Among a stack of old love letters was a codex letting Orison know of a couple of bank accounts and a few emergency stashes spread throughout the east coast and heartland areas. Hidden between scrapbook pages were translated manuscripts from different magical traditions. Finally, a 'Great Uncle Ernie' Urn held a phylactery with a note that listed a place and date for departure.
The phylactery was a key that could open a gate between a temple in the South Americanus continent to a secret tomb near Giza. On a certain date, that secret room would reveal a second gate that led to an inter-dimensional labyrinth. If Orison missed it, he'd have to take the back up which wasn't available for almost a decade.
Aside from a couple of weapons that required some assembly, there wasn't anything else of value beyond what it appeared to be. Once he stowed away the secret stuff, making note of his space's interest in eating the phylactery, he called Neil and Jacob to rummage through the luggage for whatever clothes and knickknacks they might want. After that, he gathered up the rest and took the remaining things over to Picket St. and let them have at it.
When Orison went to the bank in town to close out the account, there were two telegram missives attached. The first told him where a set of purchased property was on the outskirts of New Yorkshire in response to the possible need if Neil had kicked him out. The second missive was useless since it was for the possibility that the footlockers had been delivered to Neil's and Orison was no longer there. Zeke was a thorough guy.
Due to that thoroughness, he'd have to meet Zeke at the new place, however. If Orison wasn't there or a change of plans occurred, there would be a note left in one of the emergency stash points leading to whatever else the militant man had in store for him. Cloak and dagger stuff had appeal to Orison anyway. He didn't mind at all.
The rest of the week went without incident and the time for his date with Jen and her mysterious friend was coming up. He had a small surprise in store for them at the end of their big city weekend depending on how things went but after that, it was possible that they'd never meet again since he didn't plan on coming back to Port Haven. Not wanting to bring Jacob along on his excursion but not wanting to leave him flapping in the wind, Orison sent him ahead by bus to his new place.
Neil was going to get a surprise when/if he ever came over to Orison's place, thinking that Jacob was 'gone for good'. The detective would be getting his letter of instructions the following Monday. Neil would have to make the choice himself to break free of Orison's orbit or stay of his own accord.
Saturday morning, Orison dressed in his best outfit and went to meet the two women at Jen's apartment. She came running out, delighted by the new wheels he'd gotten so that he could leave the old car for Neil. A few minutes later, a pale, willowy young woman walked out. She was a couple years younger than Jen, hovering nebulously between eighteen and twenty.
Without being two obvious about it, Orison checked out Jen's friend, Wendy (Wednesday) from an occasional side glance. "Holy carp! It's the godmother of goth. Black everything that can be without being distasteful, is she aware that we're not going to a funeral? Whatever. It's her choice and I don't have room to talk. She makes it look good. I'll give her that. If she'd chosen something other than a waist shirt, I'm pretty sure she'd be less 'Wednesday' and more Morticia."
On the long drive to New Yorkshire, Jen filled the air with words and fiddled with the radio, insuring that there was no silence but also dominating conversation. It seemed that neither he nor Wendy minded. The bartender had the kind of voice that was easy to listen to and a personality that made continuous chatter soothing rather than irritating.
While at a diner on the northern outskirts of their destination, Orison excused himself for a restroom break only to come back to two men taking up his side of the booth, striking up conversation. One had conveniently pushed his desert over to be picked up by the waitress too. As the men noticed his existence, Wendy looked out the window in boredom while Jen looked at him with eyes that challenged 'Do you want to handle this or do you want us too?'. Potential disappointment and complete friend zone were subtly implied. It didn't go how either the brash men or the women were anticipating.
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Inside the package wasn't only the bottle but an address for Mr. Ashland's flagship enterprise. He figured, if that wasn't enough to keep the devil group's interests from focusing on him, at least he was forewarned that they were too strong to mess with at all and he needed to make a run for it. With all his running around, he had seen signs of the Masons and even that august group didn't clash toe to toe with the Rose Cross. Holding similar roots notwithstanding, they were the twin giants of the secret societies from what he could gather, at least in the Americanus continent.
Returning 'home', He was stopped by Neil. "You didn't happen to see my guest leave, did you?"
Grimly, Orison said, "Not only have I seen her, Neil, but I had her picked up. As much as I'd like to allow your self revulsion for booze addled behavior to stand, its too dangerous to leave you in the dark."
Orison gave a gentle breakdown to an increasingly skeptical, Neil.
The detective said, "How much of this baloney do you expect me to swallow without any proof? A witch with a devil pact..."
The detective spit all his doubts out into the open and Orison led off with, "How many geriatrics have you picked up in the past to not have some doubt about all this? Give me a little suspension of disbelief for a minute... Lady comes to find out what really happened when three of her organization's tightest knit group of lackeys goes off the rail. The trail leads here but she's not in any hurry and decides to get a little fringe benefit out of it.
"Follow me... You see him, Neil? You probably don't recognize him, right. He's Slim, one of the guys who was geared up to beat the stuffing out of you the other day. Now he's a young and relatively healthy guy. I'm sure Jen told you about how bad off he was... He's starting to stir a little. Let's give him a bit more time so we can finish our conversation first."
He gave a little more breakdown before revealing the magic circle and demonstrating its effects. Neil was understandably freaked but Orison calmly answered his questions. The detective didn't trust him and didn't trust his words. Fumbling a card out of his wallet, Neil called Zeke. That conversation didn't go as he thought it would.
Wanting to earn a little goodwill back, Orison said, "Would you rather believe that you'd predate on a sick old lady, even drunk, than believe you were the victim of supernatural events? If you're willing to buy that, why would you automatically assume that just because I'm the one that revealed it, that I might be the one behind it? It would literally serve me better to let you go on believing that you banged a granny.
"I exposed myself to you because I'm worried about your safety! If you want some space, I'll give it but if you poke your finger in my face when I've done nothing but try to help you, then there's nothing more I can do but cut you loose. Don't overly worry about what Zeke said. Here's twenty. Take the car out for the day and clear your head. If you want me gone when you get back, I'll go."
Neil took the car keys and the money. Orison was fairly sure that some alone time would serve the detective a whole lot more than a bucket of words. With one problem on the way of hopefully being solved, he turned to the other.
Roughly a quarter hour later, Jacob sat up with a gasp. Eyes focused on Orison for all of thirty seconds before the man started crying like the broken hearted and lost person he was in truth. Moral clarity likely only let him see more to hate about himself which wasn't overly helpful.
Trying to offer some consolation, Orison said, "You were possessed, quite literally. It doesn't excuse everything but it would be more than just hard to be a good person with a literal devil whispering dark deeds in your ear all the time."
He saw it coming. Jacob asked if James and Jimmy were possessed and if they could help them. Orison agreed in the possibility but said the chances weren't good. James was pretty much gone with only a few old driving principles left, like sticking up for his brother when it was convenient for him. Jimmy was a little more complicated but Orison knew who Jacob really cared about trying to save.
It took a lot more talking through everything and some reassurances about parts of himself being actual parts of himself for Jacob to begin fishing the pieces of his shattered life into any semblance of order. Then Orison launched into a round of validating certain inconvenient truths about Jacob. Following that, they had an awkward back and forth where Orison showed support without giving false impressions of sharing inclination or having interest.
Trying to hold it together long enough to have a coherent talk about future plans, Jacob said, "I don't know what to do. I don't even know where to go."
Orison shrugged. "Aside from financially, I'm not that much better off on the stable environment front. In about two weeks, I'll be meeting up with a friend and I'll know more from there. When I brought you here to heal you, I wasn't planning on doing more than making sure you weren't going to die and sending you to figure things out on your own.
"Working off the principle that you can tolerate just about anything for a couple of weeks, you can shadow me. If you still haven't reached an idea by then, I'm buying you a ticket to the Cisco Bay and enough money to keep you floating for three months. I figure you have a better chance of finding your way there than anywhere else. Sound like a plan for the moment?"
Jacob helplessly nodded.
When Neil returned, tensions were running too high for steak and loaded potato Saturday to gloss over. A fight almost broke out between him and Jacob before the detective realized that picking on the man would just make him feel bad since a single harsh word was enough to reduce the fragile guy into a sobbing, apologetic mess. Then he almost got into it with Orison but the young mage wasn't taking the bait. He just calmly asked if he needed to leave.
As angry and confused as Neil was at the moment, his logic centers screamed at him how bad of an idea driving Orison away was. And it seemed that, at the moment, Jacob was identifiable as a fellow victim. Underneath it all, Neil was still a bit of a white knight, even if his armor was rusty and some of his personal life choices were questionable.
To give them both a little piece of mind, Orison made two anti-possession charms that weren't much more than security blankets with a pitiful amount of real protective power. Next, he made something a little more useful. Substitution poppets that had a vague similarity to their holders for curse catching were made as they were invited to watch. With a dab of blood on a little felt heart sewn into them, the project was complete and the finished mini arts and crafts festival seemed to help clear the air a bit more.
Being introduced to such things and a strong desire to seek any lifeline to help them feel safer in a world that seemed much more hostile and dangerous to them, Neil and Jacob both wanted to be taught whatever could be. Despite having an abundant life force, each of them lacked one of the crucial elements in practicing ritual magic but together they could. Having been a victim of possession, Jacob's soul had been stimulated to be more actively productive but his will was hazy and unfocused. Despite not portraying it well, Neil had a strong will, he was just lazy and unmotivated with little spiritual growth even by normal human standards.
Entering an uneasy partnership, the detective and ex-thug helped fill in what the other lacked. Over the next couple of days, Orison finished preparing a primer of information that would see the two in good standing for learning and practice material for quite some time. It was a hard road but there was some hope if they stuck with the meditation, exercise and practice, they could naturally awaken to a gift. As for climbing, Orison didn't really see them being able to reach the requirements in such an impoverished reality. Chrism was a possibility to bridge the gap but it was a lot more risky to use for such a thing than he had originally believed it to be.
After having studied the effects of chrism, Orison discovered just how lucky he and his original companions had been to encounter it in the way they had. It was dangerous and corrupting. It took a strong soul and will to shape it into something helpful. Even the nebulous, pre-structured and tamed form Orison had originally been exposed to had nearly wrecked him in ways he hadn't realized until much later. Using that method to directly induct a mundane into a climber would be sheer idiocy unless conducted by a person stronger and more knowledgeable than himself or anyone else that Orison knew.
Risk versus reward, it just didn't seem worth pursuing chrism anymore. Its benefit to himself had nearly been reduced to superior crafting material and after being briefed by Zeke, the brushes with mad gods in the illusion were like kiddie versions of the real thing. They warped and corrupted all they came in contact with. Greater reality itself rejected their presence and they could only linger in places like this, dying realities slowly drifting towards the void.
It was pure fantasy to waltz into one's resting place and suck it up with a couple of one use artifacts. He had been told more than once that such creatures required a group of tier fours. There was even a brief passage translated from the journal that mentioned a successful team's capture of one. They took years to recover from it and that was considered a 'good' run. It's quite likely his share from the event that had turned the magi from a despotic ruler into an insane, reality hopping hermit.
During his own studies and trainings, Orison would occasionally revisit the Neil and Jacob issue. By the third day of their roommate status, Neil and Jacob weren't that much more comfortable with each other but they had learned to appreciate what the other had to bring to the table. The next hump was getting them past mutual use into cooperative learning.
Taking a break from a tricky passage he was trying to translate, Orison checked in on his students' sigil wallpaper project. "Alright, Jacob. Neil isn't your chauffeur. You're supposed to be interacting, not just paying for the gas... Neil, don't edge him out. Jacob is more than just a gas tank.
"Spirit essence is like money. You gotta spend it to make it while making sure you don't go broke. Neil, start spending a little... Will is the spiritual equivalent to muscle. You got to wear it out so that when you rest it becomes stronger. Jacob, start exercising that flab."
Orison was saved from the process of Neil trying to make an argument for himself before accepting and Jacob needing to be riled up before he'd step up, by a knock at the door. Neil stepped out of the kitchen before closing it's door into the office. A minute later he came back to tell Orison it was for him, returning to the project as if he'd never left.
What was waiting for him was three foot lockers that had lots of stamps on them. After answering a 'password' delivery instruction, he dragged them to his room and rummaged through them. The bulk was neat junk and nonsense but carefully hidden away inside were some real gems, literally real gems. They even had a touch of boundary item status.
Among a stack of old love letters was a codex letting Orison know of a couple of bank accounts and a few emergency stashes spread throughout the east coast and heartland areas. Hidden between scrapbook pages were translated manuscripts from different magical traditions. Finally, a 'Great Uncle Ernie' Urn held a phylactery with a note that listed a place and date for departure.
The phylactery was a key that could open a gate between a temple in the South Americanus continent to a secret tomb near Giza. On a certain date, that secret room would reveal a second gate that led to an inter-dimensional labyrinth. If Orison missed it, he'd have to take the back up which wasn't available for almost a decade.
Aside from a couple of weapons that required some assembly, there wasn't anything else of value beyond what it appeared to be. Once he stowed away the secret stuff, making note of his space's interest in eating the phylactery, he called Neil and Jacob to rummage through the luggage for whatever clothes and knickknacks they might want. After that, he gathered up the rest and took the remaining things over to Picket St. and let them have at it.
When Orison went to the bank in town to close out the account, there were two telegram missives attached. The first told him where a set of purchased property was on the outskirts of New Yorkshire in response to the possible need if Neil had kicked him out. The second missive was useless since it was for the possibility that the footlockers had been delivered to Neil's and Orison was no longer there. Zeke was a thorough guy.
Due to that thoroughness, he'd have to meet Zeke at the new place, however. If Orison wasn't there or a change of plans occurred, there would be a note left in one of the emergency stash points leading to whatever else the militant man had in store for him. Cloak and dagger stuff had appeal to Orison anyway. He didn't mind at all.
The rest of the week went without incident and the time for his date with Jen and her mysterious friend was coming up. He had a small surprise in store for them at the end of their big city weekend depending on how things went but after that, it was possible that they'd never meet again since he didn't plan on coming back to Port Haven. Not wanting to bring Jacob along on his excursion but not wanting to leave him flapping in the wind, Orison sent him ahead by bus to his new place.
Neil was going to get a surprise when/if he ever came over to Orison's place, thinking that Jacob was 'gone for good'. The detective would be getting his letter of instructions the following Monday. Neil would have to make the choice himself to break free of Orison's orbit or stay of his own accord.
Saturday morning, Orison dressed in his best outfit and went to meet the two women at Jen's apartment. She came running out, delighted by the new wheels he'd gotten so that he could leave the old car for Neil. A few minutes later, a pale, willowy young woman walked out. She was a couple years younger than Jen, hovering nebulously between eighteen and twenty.
Without being two obvious about it, Orison checked out Jen's friend, Wendy (Wednesday) from an occasional side glance. "Holy carp! It's the godmother of goth. Black everything that can be without being distasteful, is she aware that we're not going to a funeral? Whatever. It's her choice and I don't have room to talk. She makes it look good. I'll give her that. If she'd chosen something other than a waist shirt, I'm pretty sure she'd be less 'Wednesday' and more Morticia."
On the long drive to New Yorkshire, Jen filled the air with words and fiddled with the radio, insuring that there was no silence but also dominating conversation. It seemed that neither he nor Wendy minded. The bartender had the kind of voice that was easy to listen to and a personality that made continuous chatter soothing rather than irritating.
While at a diner on the northern outskirts of their destination, Orison excused himself for a restroom break only to come back to two men taking up his side of the booth, striking up conversation. One had conveniently pushed his desert over to be picked up by the waitress too. As the men noticed his existence, Wendy looked out the window in boredom while Jen looked at him with eyes that challenged 'Do you want to handle this or do you want us too?'. Potential disappointment and complete friend zone were subtly implied. It didn't go how either the brash men or the women were anticipating.
Inside the package wasn't only the bottle but an address for Mr. Ashland's flagship enterprise. He figured, if that wasn't enough to keep the devil group's interests from focusing on him, at least he was forewarned that they were too strong to mess with at all and he needed to make a run for it. With all his running around, he had seen signs of the Masons and even that august group didn't clash toe to toe with the Rose Cross. Holding similar roots notwithstanding, they were the twin giants of the secret societies from what he could gather, at least in the Americanus continent. Returning 'home', He was stopped by Neil. "You didn't happen to see my guest leave, did you?" Grimly, Orison said, "Not only have I seen her, Neil, but I had her picked up. As much as I'd like to allow your self revulsion for booze addled behavior to stand, its too dangerous to leave you in the dark." Orison gave a gentle breakdown to an increasingly skeptical, Neil. The detective said, "How much of this baloney do you expect me to swallow without any proof? A witch with a devil pact..." The detective spit all his doubts out into the open and Orison led off with, "How many geriatrics have you picked up in the past to not have some doubt about all this? Give me a little suspension of disbelief for a minute... Lady comes to find out what really happened when three of her organization's tightest knit group of lackeys goes off the rail. The trail leads here but she's not in any hurry and decides to get a little fringe benefit out of it. "Follow me... You see him, Neil? You probably don't recognize him, right. He's Slim, one of the guys who was geared up to beat the stuffing out of you the other day. Now he's a young and relatively healthy guy. I'm sure Jen told you about how bad off he was... He's starting to stir a little. Let's give him a bit more time so we can finish our conversation first." He gave a little more breakdown before revealing the magic circle and demonstrating its effects. Neil was understandably freaked but Orison calmly answered his questions. The detective didn't trust him and didn't trust his words. Fumbling a card out of his wallet, Neil called Zeke. That conversation didn't go as he thought it would. Wanting to earn a little goodwill back, Orison said, "Would you rather believe that you'd predate on a sick old lady, even drunk, than believe you were the victim of supernatural events? If you're willing to buy that, why would you automatically assume that just because I'm the one that revealed it, that I might be the one behind it? It would literally serve me better to let you go on believing that you banged a granny. "I exposed myself to you because I'm worried about your safety! If you want some space, I'll give it but if you poke your finger in my face when I've done nothing but try to help you, then there's nothing more I can do but cut you loose. Don't overly worry about what Zeke said. Here's twenty. Take the car out for the day and clear your head. If you want me gone when you get back, I'll go." Neil took the car keys and the money. Orison was fairly sure that some alone time would serve the detective a whole lot more than a bucket of words. With one problem on the way of hopefully being solved, he turned to the other. Roughly a quarter hour later, Jacob sat up with a gasp. Eyes focused on Orison for all of thirty seconds before the man started crying like the broken hearted and lost person he was in truth. Moral clarity likely only let him see more to hate about himself which wasn't overly helpful. Trying to offer some consolation, Orison said, "You were possessed, quite literally. It doesn't excuse everything but it would be more than just hard to be a good person with a literal devil whispering dark deeds in your ear all the time." He saw it coming. Jacob asked if James and Jimmy were possessed and if they could help them. Orison agreed in the possibility but said the chances weren't good. James was pretty much gone with only a few old driving principles left, like sticking up for his brother when it was convenient for him. Jimmy was a little more complicated but Orison knew who Jacob really cared about trying to save. It took a lot more talking through everything and some reassurances about parts of himself being actual parts of himself for Jacob to begin fishing the pieces of his shattered life into any semblance of order. Then Orison launched into a round of validating certain inconvenient truths about Jacob. Following that, they had an awkward back and forth where Orison showed support without giving false impressions of sharing inclination or having interest. Trying to hold it together long enough to have a coherent talk about future plans, Jacob said, "I don't know what to do. I don't even know where to go." Orison shrugged. "Aside from financially, I'm not that much better off on the stable environment front. In about two weeks, I'll be meeting up with a friend and I'll know more from there. When I brought you here to heal you, I wasn't planning on doing more than making sure you weren't going to die and sending you to figure things out on your own. "Working off the principle that you can tolerate just about anything for a couple of weeks, you can shadow me. If you still haven't reached an idea by then, I'm buying you a ticket to the Cisco Bay and enough money to keep you floating for three months. I figure you have a better chance of finding your way there than anywhere else. Sound like a plan for the moment?" Jacob helplessly nodded. When Neil returned, tensions were running too high for steak and loaded potato Saturday to gloss over. A fight almost broke out between him and Jacob before the detective realized that picking on the man would just make him feel bad since a single harsh word was enough to reduce the fragile guy into a sobbing, apologetic mess. Then he almost got into it with Orison but the young mage wasn't taking the bait. He just calmly asked if he needed to leave. As angry and confused as Neil was at the moment, his logic centers screamed at him how bad of an idea driving Orison away was. And it seemed that, at the moment, Jacob was identifiable as a fellow victim. Underneath it all, Neil was still a bit of a white knight, even if his armor was rusty and some of his personal life choices were questionable. To give them both a little piece of mind, Orison made two anti-possession charms that weren't much more than security blankets with a pitiful amount of real protective power. Next, he made something a little more useful. Substitution poppets that had a vague similarity to their holders for curse catching were made as they were invited to watch. With a dab of blood on a little felt heart sewn into them, the project was complete and the finished mini arts and crafts festival seemed to help clear the air a bit more. Being introduced to such things and a strong desire to seek any lifeline to help them feel safer in a world that seemed much more hostile and dangerous to them, Neil and Jacob both wanted to be taught whatever could be. Despite having an abundant life force, each of them lacked one of the crucial elements in practicing ritual magic but together they could. Having been a victim of possession, Jacob's soul had been stimulated to be more actively productive but his will was hazy and unfocused. Despite not portraying it well, Neil had a strong will, he was just lazy and unmotivated with little spiritual growth even by normal human standards. Entering an uneasy partnership, the detective and ex-thug helped fill in what the other lacked. Over the next couple of days, Orison finished preparing a primer of information that would see the two in good standing for learning and practice material for quite some time. It was a hard road but there was some hope if they stuck with the meditation, exercise and practice, they could naturally awaken to a gift. As for climbing, Orison didn't really see them being able to reach the requirements in such an impoverished reality. Chrism was a possibility to bridge the gap but it was a lot more risky to use for such a thing than he had originally believed it to be. After having studied the effects of chrism, Orison discovered just how lucky he and his original companions had been to encounter it in the way they had. It was dangerous and corrupting. It took a strong soul and will to shape it into something helpful. Even the nebulous, pre-structured and tamed form Orison had originally been exposed to had nearly wrecked him in ways he hadn't realized until much later. Using that method to directly induct a mundane into a climber would be sheer idiocy unless conducted by a person stronger and more knowledgeable than himself or anyone else that Orison knew. Risk versus reward, it just didn't seem worth pursuing chrism anymore. Its benefit to himself had nearly been reduced to superior crafting material and after being briefed by Zeke, the brushes with mad gods in the illusion were like kiddie versions of the real thing. They warped and corrupted all they came in contact with. Greater reality itself rejected their presence and they could only linger in places like this, dying realities slowly drifting towards the void. It was pure fantasy to waltz into one's resting place and suck it up with a couple of one use artifacts. He had been told more than once that such creatures required a group of tier fours. There was even a brief passage translated from the journal that mentioned a successful team's capture of one. They took years to recover from it and that was considered a 'good' run. It's quite likely his share from the event that had turned the magi from a despotic ruler into an insane, reality hopping hermit. During his own studies and trainings, Orison would occasionally revisit the Neil and Jacob issue. By the third day of their roommate status, Neil and Jacob weren't that much more comfortable with each other but they had learned to appreciate what the other had to bring to the table. The next hump was getting them past mutual use into cooperative learning. Taking a break from a tricky passage he was trying to translate, Orison checked in on his students' sigil wallpaper project. "Alright, Jacob. Neil isn't your chauffeur. You're supposed to be interacting, not just paying for the gas... Neil, don't edge him out. Jacob is more than just a gas tank. "Spirit essence is like money. You gotta spend it to make it while making sure you don't go broke. Neil, start spending a little... Will is the spiritual equivalent to muscle. You got to wear it out so that when you rest it becomes stronger. Jacob, start exercising that flab." Orison was saved from the process of Neil trying to make an argument for himself before accepting and Jacob needing to be riled up before he'd step up, by a knock at the door. Neil stepped out of the kitchen before closing it's door into the office. A minute later he came back to tell Orison it was for him, returning to the project as if he'd never left. What was waiting for him was three foot lockers that had lots of stamps on them. After answering a 'password' delivery instruction, he dragged them to his room and rummaged through them. The bulk was neat junk and nonsense but carefully hidden away inside were some real gems, literally real gems. They even had a touch of boundary item status. Among a stack of old love letters was a codex letting Orison know of a couple of bank accounts and a few emergency stashes spread throughout the east coast and heartland areas. Hidden between scrapbook pages were translated manuscripts from different magical traditions. Finally, a 'Great Uncle Ernie' Urn held a phylactery with a note that listed a place and date for departure. The phylactery was a key that could open a gate between a temple in the South Americanus continent to a secret tomb near Giza. On a certain date, that secret room would reveal a second gate that led to an inter-dimensional labyrinth. If Orison missed it, he'd have to take the back up which wasn't available for almost a decade. Aside from a couple of weapons that required some assembly, there wasn't anything else of value beyond what it appeared to be. Once he stowed away the secret stuff, making note of his space's interest in eating the phylactery, he called Neil and Jacob to rummage through the luggage for whatever clothes and knickknacks they might want. After that, he gathered up the rest and took the remaining things over to Picket St. and let them have at it. When Orison went to the bank in town to close out the account, there were two telegram missives attached. The first told him where a set of purchased property was on the outskirts of New Yorkshire in response to the possible need if Neil had kicked him out. The second missive was useless since it was for the possibility that the footlockers had been delivered to Neil's and Orison was no longer there. Zeke was a thorough guy. Due to that thoroughness, he'd have to meet Zeke at the new place, however. If Orison wasn't there or a change of plans occurred, there would be a note left in one of the emergency stash points leading to whatever else the militant man had in store for him. Cloak and dagger stuff had appeal to Orison anyway. He didn't mind at all. The rest of the week went without incident and the time for his date with Jen and her mysterious friend was coming up. He had a small surprise in store for them at the end of their big city weekend depending on how things went but after that, it was possible that they'd never meet again since he didn't plan on coming back to Port Haven. Not wanting to bring Jacob along on his excursion but not wanting to leave him flapping in the wind, Orison sent him ahead by bus to his new place. Neil was going to get a surprise when/if he ever came over to Orison's place, thinking that Jacob was 'gone for good'. The detective would be getting his letter of instructions the following Monday. Neil would have to make the choice himself to break free of Orison's orbit or stay of his own accord. Saturday morning, Orison dressed in his best outfit and went to meet the two women at Jen's apartment. She came running out, delighted by the new wheels he'd gotten so that he could leave the old car for Neil. A few minutes later, a pale, willowy young woman walked out. She was a couple years younger than Jen, hovering nebulously between eighteen and twenty. Without being two obvious about it, Orison checked out Jen's friend, Wendy Wednesday from an occasional side glance. "Holy carp! It's the godmother of goth. Black everything that can be without being distasteful, is she aware that we're not going to a funeral? Whatever. It's her choice and I don't have room to talk. She makes it look good. I'll give her that. If she'd chosen something other than a waist shirt, I'm pretty sure she'd be less 'Wednesday' and more Morticia." On the long drive to New Yorkshire, Jen filled the air with words and fiddled with the radio, insuring that there was no silence but also dominating conversation. It seemed that neither he nor Wendy minded. The bartender had the kind of voice that was easy to listen to and a personality that made continuous chatter soothing rather than irritating. While at a diner on the northern outskirts of their destination, Orison excused himself for a restroom break only to come back to two men taking up his side of the booth, striking up conversation. One had conveniently pushed his desert over to be picked up by the waitress too. As the men noticed his existence, Wendy looked out the window in boredom while Jen looked at him with eyes that challenged 'Do you want to handle this or do you want us too?'. Potential disappointment and complete friend zone were subtly implied. It didn't go how either the brash men or the women were anticipating.
