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Realms: Law Logs

Questions, Questions.

Sedona, AZ, Present Day

The false priest seems securely out once Ian has fed him the opium syrup. The Eliite shakes his head, eyes full of sadness. Once he's in his kitchen, he starts making coffee, filling the house with the smell of coffee and caramel.

The coffee is set out with the tea as Ian leans against a doorjamb and shakes his head, "We'll probably be able to wake him up and as stoned as his Vessel will be, you might have a little trouble getting him to tell a straight story." He takes a sip of coffee and considers, "But he's also probably not going to be able to go Celestial as incapacitated as he'll be."

Shateishael nods and settles back with a cup of really, really black coffee. He has a few appreciative sips, then rumbles, "Your place, guy. How you wanna handle this?"

Rosenstern comes back into the room, having cleaned up a bit in Ian's washroom, catching Ian's comment and coffee. "I hope he can at least tell us what he thinks he's doing," he says quietly. "Shouldn't he have Fallen if he was doing... doing all that?"

Shateishael shakes his head at Rosenstern, "Dunno, Rosie. Never been around Fallen much. Don't know 'zactly what precedes it."

Ian shakes his head slowly, "Not... necessarily. He's probably awful bloody Dissonant, but you can work off Dissonance."

Shateishael glances at Ian, "You know how t' tell?"

Devorael peers down from the door frame. "So far, at least, his co-conspirators don't seem to have tracked him here, if they're even looking."

Shateishael nods to the crow, "Good. Y' want somethin' t' drink?"

Ian shakes his head, "Nah. Wish I did. Woulds saved me a lotta pain through my existence."

Shateishael nods slowly... "'Kay. So how you wanna handle this? Wanna be actively involved, stay clear, what?"

Devorael fluffs its feathers. "I'm fine, thank you." It listens to Ian's response.

After a moment's thought, Ian says, slowly, "I think I'd like to be by for the questioning, just because of the rules of hospitality. While you lot are here, you're all my responsibility. Including him."

Rosenstern pauses, taking that in, and nods. "Sure thing, Ian."

Shateishael nods, unsurprised, and goes back to sipping his coffee. Until the guy awakens, they might as well just relax, he thinks.

It takes a while for the unconscious Celestial start to stir. There's a shift of the body and a low, incoherent groan escapes the boy's throat. Eyes flutter open and look around the room in confusion and incomprehension. The first attempt to speak doesn't work, the second sounds thick and hoarse, "Where are we?"

Devorael alerts the others at the first movement, and then the second says "This looks like this is it."

Rosenstern for the moment lets Slate do the talking. It's more important to hear the Truth of what he wants to say than to try to coax it out of him.

Shateishael looks up at the alert, then rises and paces into the other room, turning around a chair to settle with his arms crossed on the back of the chair. At the question he rumbles, "You're safe enough for now, kid. What's your name?"

Ian stays in the doorway, a quiet presence.

The body's eyes move around and focus with difficulty on Slate. He licks his lips and says in that same hoarse voice, "Harry." It rings true enough.

Shateishael nods, "Okay, Harry. Who do you Serve?"

There's another slow blink as the question filters through the layers of cranial trauma and drugs. "Life." There's only a very slight waver of Untruth there. It's not a lie, but it's not the whole truth, either.

Shateishael says, "Who's your Superior?"

Drugged, heavy-lidded eyes move around the room and the kid blinks again, "Who're you? Where's Jakob?"

Shateishael shakes his head slightly, has a sip of coffee, watches the boy for a while... after a minute has passed he repeats, "Who's your Superior, Harry?"

Rosenstern frowns. He doesn't know what Superior has the Word of Life.

The drugged Celestial starts to try and push himself up into a sitting position, rubbing at his forehead, but his voice is still logy, "Don't hafta tell you that. Where's Jakob? Where are we?"

Shateishael says calmly, "Well, now, guess you gotta choice here, Harry. You can tell us... or you can tell someone else. Like Judgement."

Ian shifts in the doorway, but he stays quiet. In the background. It's the least obtrusive any of you have ever probably seen him be. It's difficult for someone his size to melt into the background in most circumstances.

Devorael tilts its head this way and that as a bird. The cat stops washing its paw and studies the "kid."

Rosenstern realizes that no angel has that Word. So what's going on here? He wonders why Ian is being so far in the background right now. "You need to cooperate, Harry. Make it easy on yourself. We just want to know what you and your friends are doing. Tell us: What is your choir, who is your Superior, and whose orders were you following?"

Harry shakes his head as if trying to clear the fog, eyes squinting, his words still coming slowly as if he has to concentrate on each one to get it out, "We serve Life."

Shateishael says, "Who's we?"

It's got the sound of something recited as a mantra.

Harry sighs and shakes his head, "Not saying. Jakob said not to say." He doesn't seem to realize that he's now said at least one of his comrade's name several times now. It's almost as if there's not filter between his inner monologue and what's coming out of his mouth, "Life. Life and Law..." He's starting to slump a little bit again.

Shateishael rumbles, "What else did Jakob tell you not to say?"

Rosenstern's brows knit. It sounds... uncomfortably like what a cult would have as their mantra. he resists the urge to take harry by the lapels and shake him.

Flopping back, Harry presses the heels of his hands against his eyes, "We're not going to tell you. We don't have to tell you." There's something else seeping through now. Fear.

Shateishael shrugs, then tries another angle, "Why did you kill the priest?"

Devorael pads over to Rosie and strokes the tomcat's head on his leg.

"We didn't. We just took care of the body." There's a beat before he says, "He was already dead inside, anyway. Hope died in him. Without Hope, there is no Life."

Shateishael says, "How did he die?"

Devorael's feathers ruffle. This is weirding out the inexperienced Kyrio, but it stays quiet... listening, scenting, trying to see if there's support for a hunch it has.

Rosenstern decides this is getting real ugly real fast. The cult-like repetition of verbally capitalized words and irrationally absolutist phrases is getting creepy. Even so, without looking he kneels over and gently scoops up the tom, gently scritching it as he says quietly. "You don't have to tell us... but you will have to tell Judgement. Or the Sword."

Devorael suddenly goes alert in Rosie's arms. The crow croaks "Slate... Ian... I think it's my breed."

Harry's voice is a little clearer, "Jakob held him and She..." he stumbles and starts over to cover the near-slip, "She slit his throat... it was quick. He was dead in minutes. Clean. Not like the women he sent back to be beaten and used." There's some more life to the voice now. A little more awareness.

Shateishael glances at Deva, then back at the boy, and sighs. He rises, stepping over to the kid, and neatly strikes the boy on the chin to knock him out. "Okay... this just got messier."

Rosenstern blinks. "A Kyrio? And who's Sh--" he winces as Slate hits the boy. "--She. Erm...."

As soon as the kid is out, Deva goes on. "Dog coming down the street, sniffing... really slow. It caught my eye because I'm not sure it's acting like it should. And that 'we' feels like... like when I say it."

Shateishael folds his arms, staring down at the kid, then looks back at the others, "I'm thinkin' unless we wanna have to deal with the other three and whomever the rest of the kid is riding... we should just hand this boyo over to Judgement."

Rosenstern pauses, then narrows his eyes. "So we have company...."

Shateishael says, "Anyone know how to knock out a dog instantly? I don't."

Ian doesn't object to the knocking out of the body, but he clears his throat at the mentioning of handing him over to Dominic, "Rather you didn't do that just yet, boyo. And as long as part of him's tied up here, he's not goin' back upstairs."

Shateishael says, "Yeah, but as long as part of him's tied up here, your home is Serial Killer Central, dude."

Rosenstern shakes his head. "I don't know how to knock out a dog." he looks to Ian, then bites his lip. "On the other hand... his friends will come looking for him. He mentioned a... a 'She,' as well as a Jakob."

Devorael says, "Slate... as long as we have part of him here, we have all of him. If he's like me, I mean. He can't let the Host come to harm without..." Both bodies shudder. "He won't be willing to take that risk if he's not fallen. As for knocking out the dog... if you hit it right at the base of the skull, solidly, you can knock it out. "

Ian nods, acknowledging Slate and Rosie's concerns, "True..." He looks distinctly uncomfortable, all the same.

Shateishael gives Deva a dubious look, "Hold on, how can we have all of him here when you just said a dog's acting oddly in the street?" He's already set his cup of coffee aside, though, and is heading through the house towards the street side.

Devorael is, meanwhile, carefully, closely watching the other dog. On guard. My space, don't trespass, says the body language. A non-Ridden dog will pass right by.

Devorael says, "Ian, are your dogs pack scouts or are they more guards?"

Rosenstern follows Slate, setting the Tom down to watch the other Kyrio. "I think because, if he's not Fallen, he won't let his Host come to harm."

The dog is sniffing around, drawing closer. It pauses at the gate Ian has across his driveway, pawing at the gravel there and whining a little.

Ian smiles crookedly at Deva, "They're pets, luvvy."

Shateishael rumbles over his shoulder to Rosenstern, "Which means he'll just bring trouble here, Rosie. Don't wanna do that t' Ian."

Shateishael says, "Bring th' crow!"

Devorael pauses for a moment, processing. Pets, not packmates? Humans and the ones who prefer humanform are so *weird.* The crow follows Slate. Out in the yard, Deva/Holly stands up, ears and tail in the "back off" position.

Shateishael hms, standing just out of sight inside the building and watching Deva-Holly and the strange dog outside. "Okay. We wanna let th' dog come in 'n clock it too, or let Deva-Holly drive it off?"

Devorael says, "Don't do anything yet. Let me see what it does if I am dog defending territory. I've seen other Kyrios give themselves away that way, if they don't really understand dog."

Shateishael thinks, then lays out what he sees, "If we let it in we can capture it, but it can relate t' its partners which house t' come to. If we drive it off... they won't know for sure. I'm thinkin' drive it off?"

Shateishael nods to the crow, eyes still on the little scenario outside.

Rosenstern nods to Slate. "I agree there. If we drive it off, it's still left in the dark.

Shateishael nods once, folding his arms, "'kay. All yours, Deva."

Devorael says, "If I drive it off, we need to move the humanform anyway... and while the humanform is out. "

Shateishael nods slowly, "Good point. Should get it outta Ian's place."

As the discussion is going on, the dog's head goes up, ears pricked as it scans and sees Deva-Holly. It paws at the gravel of the driveway again and hesitates. After a moment, it trots nearer to where Holly is and whines again, lowering its head submissively.

Devorael-as-Holly growls loudly, lunges, pulls up. Back-off becomes back-the-hell-off.

The dog scrambles backward fast enough that it loses footing with its rear feet and its rump hits the ground for an instant before it turns tail and sprints back the way it came.

Shateishael huhs softly to himself as he suddenly remembers previous uncharacteristic behavior... then grins quietly to himself, making notes about what people did as opposed to what they said.

Devorael says, "That's a Celestial. It didn't roll first. It should have gone belly-to-dirt or rolled, then when I let it go run off."

Shateishael nods, already turning back to the room the boy's in. "Okay, time t' move th' kid."

Devorael barks after it, true to dog character. And stay out!

Rosenstern lets out the breath he hadn't known he'd been holding. "Right. Where do we take him to?" A pause. "The ranch?"

Shateishael rumbles quietly to Ian, "It wasn't a dog."

Rosenstern frowns as he realizes that they would have seen Deva at the church. "Oh... oh, dear. Okay. Right. Where to?

Shateishael slips a pair of handcuffs out of his jacket pocket, cuffs the kid's hands behind him, and slings the body over his shoulder. He pauses to put a hand on Ian's shoulder, "Thanks, guy. I hope we didn't bring you trouble. You wanna come with us, just in case?"

Ian has a bottle of the same syrup he gave Slate to dose Harry with in his hand. He also has some... restraints. They don't exactly look like they're meant for penal use, being made out of leather and sheepskin. "If you're set on taking the boyo somewhere, you'll want to keep him out..." He grins lopsidedly at Slate and shoves his rather less utilitarian cuffs into his pocket. "Nae. I'd better keep an eye here for a wee bit."

Rosenstern glances at the handcuffs, and arches a brow a little, then grins a bit and nods to Ian, giving the big man a hug. "If something happens, call us, okay?"

Shateishael snorts amusedly at Ian's... toys, then nods, "Take care. What Rosie said."

Shateishael says, "Out of what, guy?"

Devorael rubs against Ian's ankle. "Thank you, Ian."

Shateishael tucks the syrup into his jacket pocket.

Shateishael says, "And d'you want us t' take th' car too, or leave it here in case there's a Cherub in th' group too?"

Ian wraps his arms around Rosie and hugs him tight enough to be almost painful, "Will do. You keep this lot out of trouble." He crouches to scritch behind Deva's ears, the sporran thankfully holding his kilt down in front, "For his cronies." There's a moment of thought before he answers the second question, "I'd say dump it at a rest stop somewhere."

Ian stands up, "An' I meant keep him knocked out, boyo." He offers Slate his hand, going very serious, "Stay safe if ye can."

Shateishael snorts amusedly again at the offered hand, then steps to give Ian a tight one-armed hug. "You know I will. You too, y' black-winged rogue." He grins teasingly at the Malakite before heading swiftly out.

Devorael runs and flies behind Slate, Holly already at the truck and waiting.

At the truck Slate dumps the kid in the back, hands Rosie the bottle of syrup, and rumbles, "Keep th' li'l bastard unconscious, yeah?" Then he slides behind the wheel, waiting long enough for all Deva's bodies to hop aboard before he takes off.

Ian returns the hug, laughing. He waits until the truck and its load of angels and car are out of sight before going back into the house.

Shateishael heads first for a rest stop some ten miles away from Ian's house. "Deva, can y'r crow keep an eye out for fliers?"

Devorael says, "Yes, I can watch. And will."

Shateishael says, "Thanks, kid." He continues driving the rattletrap old work truck swiftly down the highway, calling over his shoulder, "Rosie, y' got any suggestions on what t' do with this boyo? Frankly I'd almost rather dump him on Judgment an' get him outta Deva's 'n our hair... but I guess it's only fair t' give him one more chance... y' think?""

Rosenstern chews his lip, looking at the unconscious Harry. "I'm not sure, Slate. I... have a feeling that there's something deeper going on here. My impression when I was listening to him was that he's been... brainwashed, almost. it sounded like he'd been inducted into some kind of cult. And governments and authorities have traditionally... scorched-earth ways of dealing with cults.

Shateishael snorts in amusement, "Judgment's always had a sorta scorched-earth attitude." He drives silently for a while, then sighs, "Guess part of it is I jus' don' like this. Don' want you guys mixed up in it. Whoever Jakob and this 'she' are..." He falls silent then, frowning as he drives.

Devorael sits quietly too, but at Slate's comment says "It smells funny. Not the Host, the whole thing. But I'll tell you what scares me most of all right now... it's that they'll go on and try to get more people, faster, since they know we're on to them."

Shateishael nods silently, his eyes on the road.

Devorael says, "Unless there's something cosmological they need, we need to find out all this one knows, and fast. Otherwise, we may have a whole argument of dead humans."

Rosenstern reaches over and puts his hand on Slate's shoulder. "I know, Slate, I know. If it was only you, I know you'd not think twice. But don't worry about us. We'll each have our own ways of helping." He nods to Deva. "How many people can one of these... can a Kyriotate Ride at once? And how far apart can they be?"

Shateishael rumbles dryly, "How you plannin' on findin' out everythin' this kid knows, Deva?"

Shateishael glances over his shoulder at Rosenstern and grins lopsidedly... then goes back to driving.

Devorael would flush, were it human, at Slate's words. "We..." It takes a breath in three bodies. "I don't know. And I don't know how many this one can handle, Rosie. It depends on how old it is and how thin it wants to spread itself."

Rosenstern says, "It might be fairly young, since it didn't hide as a dog too well...."

Shateishael glances sideways at Deva-Holly, then reaches out and casually rumples the dog's ears, "Take it easy, kid, wasn't snappin' atcha. Just kinda worried, an' kinda outta ideas. Th' straightforward method isn't one I p'ticularly like, an' I wouldn't do it in front of you 'n Rosie anyways."

Devorael snorts. "Few do who don't serve my Pack Leader, honestly." It leans gratefully into the petting.

Shateishael smiles faintly, rubbing Deva-Holly's ears... then grunts, "There we are. Rest stop ahead. Anything odd outside, Deva?"

Rosenstern says quietly and uncomfortably, "Thanks, Slate." he sighs. "Okay. We need to find an expert in cosmology and astrology."

Shateishael sounds curious, "We do? What for, Rosie?"

Devorael says, "It looks clear..."

Rosenstern says, "If all these murders are happening according to some sort of astrological timetable, we need to... well, no, at that I guess we don't. We know where they're going next, don't we? that fellow in prison?"

Shateishael nods to Deva, turning the truck off the highway onto the rest stop's exit. He drives to the far side of the lot, trying to put the building between them and the highway, then parks the truck. He gives a small, amused snort at sight of a car at the far end which is moving slightly where it's parked. They'll avoid that one.

Shateishael says, "That'd be my guess, yup. Wait here, folks." He slides out of the truck, unhooks the car, tosses the hitch-bar back into the truck, and pauses long enough to study the unconscious kid, "How's he doin', Rose?"

Rosenstern looks at Harry, and sighs. "Well, Harry's host here is pretty solidly out. Hes a bit pale, but he's still breathing and is okay. He's not going to come 'round anytime soon."

Shateishael nods quietly. "Okay. We need ta get somewhere we can be alone an' undisturbed..." he sighs gustily, then adds, "An' I'm thinkin' we might wanna get nearer t' home, just in case. Wanna be able t' get to th' girls quickly, or give this poor fool over t' Zeke so he c'n call his boss."

Devorael continues to keep a lookout.

Shateishael closes up the truck's shell and back, adding grimly, "'Cause if he won't talk t' us... he can talk t' Dominic."

Shateishael slides back into the truck and gets rolling again.

Shateishael says, "Okay, unless one 'a y'all have a better idea, I'm headin' back towards home."

Nothing interferes with the dropping off of the car. The couple in the car are... occupied... the entire time.

Shateishael says, "I know some caves 'bout an hour or so from th' ranch that're close t' th' Judgment Tether too... relatively speakin'."

Devorael's ears perk. "Denning is good. And having this one in your own den might not be," it says seriously.

Shateishael nods grimly to Deva, "Ain't that th' truth..."

Rosenstern considers, then nods, "Okay. That should work fine." He glances over at the car with the couple, frowning. "Deva... there's no way to tell just by looking that there's a Kyriotate, right? No... no sort of 'sixth sense, right?"

Devorael says, "If there is, I was never taught what it is."

Rosenstern nods to Deva, sighing and smiling quietly. "Just was a thought. Well... let's go to the caves, then. That should be private enough.

Shateishael grins quietly and a moment later the old truck rumbles off.

The trip to the cave is smooth. The unconscious Host stays unconscious the whole way. The cave is much as it always was, though over the years, a cache of emergency supplies has been build up. There are battery-powered lanterns and blankets stashed in an old rusty military footlocker hidden in a nook in the main chamber. After setting Harry up in a makeshift bed, it's just a matter of waiting for him to come around again.

Shateishael makes sure everyone has a drink while they wait, since he knows how easily and unexpectedly the desert air can sap one's energy.

Devorael waits outside, once it's sniffed everything to make sure no one's been in and messing with things. It lifts its head at one point, looks at Slate, lets its tongue loll, and then sniffs more.

Shateishael raises an eyebrow at the dog, "What?"

Devorael's tail is wagging and the ears show amusement. "Nothing much." Truth, if Slate's bothering to listen.

Shateishael continues to study the dog, waiting for an explanation.

After a moment, it goes on. "I just should have realized she likes rocks. I wasn't thinking."

Shateishael gives the dog a quizzical look, "What are you talking about?"

Shateishael says, "Oh, wait... you're sayin' Bella 'r Rosie brought a friend here for privacy?" He's silent a moment, thinking, then curiously asks, "Why's that funny?"

Rosenstern blinks at the dog and the crow, then stifles a laugh. "Uhm, Slate... dogs are very sensitve sniffers. I think it's your scent she's noticing...."

Shateishael looks just as curiously at Rosenstern, "Then why is my scent here funny?"

Devorael's tongue lolls a bit further, but if Slate doesn't get it, it is definitely not something for a poor baby Kyriotate of Jordi to explain. The birds and the bees are actually a lot more complex in mating dances than some Celestials... Deva might just confuse the Seraph.

Rosenstern says, "Oh, no reason. Your scent, Bella's scent.... Not that it's a surprise to me, mind you.""

Shateishael looks back and forth between the dog and the Mercurian, then sighs, "Okay, kids, let's try to act like adults here, huh? That's enough sniggering with 'I know something you don't know.' What are you talking about?"

Rosenstern coughs a little. "Sorry, Slate. I'm not trying to say that. Just that I think Deva-Holly noticed your scent and Bella's scent and the scents of any activity up here."

Shateishael raises his eyebrow again... then looks at the dog, "Kid, if you think you're scenting me 'n Bella havin' sex here, you need t' have your nose checked. I'm not interested in crushin' folks for fun on stone."

Shateishael shakes his head, shrugs, and goes back to making sure the supplies are untouched and in order.

Rosenstern blinks at slate's words. "If that's the case," he says, unfazed, "then this isn't a totally private place."

Rosenstern says, "Right, then. We'll have to keep a watch at the entrance, at the very least."

Shateishael gives Rosenstern an amused look, "Of course it's not. You know about it too."

Rosenstern says, "I mean besides us."

Shateishael says, "And this is a surprise, after forty years? Christ on a flaming rubber crutch, kids."

Devorael decides now's a good time to go start guarding things. Its tail is still wagging, though. Whatever it DID smell, it's keeping to itself.

Shateishael murmurs half under his breath, "Kids these days..." then half-sighs, half-smiles. A moment later he half-hums, "The grave's a fine and private place... but none, I think, will there embrace..."

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Last modified: 2006-Aug-27 20:09:50

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