Law -- Logs

After the nickel tour of the ranch and some general puttering about and taking care of every day business, Rosenstern rings the dinner bell to call everyone in to dinner. And what a dinner it is. The Mercurian has prepared a veritable vegetarian feast for the ranch's denizens and its guests. Roasted eggplant parmesan is the centerpiece along with an herbed pasta. The herbs taste so fresh that it's obvious that they came out of the garden just that morning. Sautéed carrots in a honey-and-spice sauce are served on the side and dessert is a decadent confection of berries and freshly-whipped cream.

After helping Rosie clean up, Bella very firmly and with an impish gleam in her eye, guides Slate upstairs, telling him along the way that she is by-god going to give him a proper goodbye.

Rosenstern is in the kitchen, just putting away the last of the now-clean dishes. He was glad the eggplant parmigana went over well, though it's a bit of a pain to clean up after! Still, he enjoys doing it for the house and guests. Once the pans and plates are away, he starts to tend to the houseplants, starting with the ones sitting in the box above the sink.

Devorael pads in silently, watching for a moment with tail tip waving back and forth. It's a bit fast to be called casual. The crow flies in and sits on the windowsill, also watching. After a moment it croaks "Anything I can do to help?"

Rosenstern gives a bit of a start, then smiles up to the crow. "Oh, hello, Deva! No, but thank you. I'm just about done here, just taking care of the plants before bed."

Both animals glance up the stairs. "You may want to wait a bit... Slate and Bella just went up. And I'm sorry I startled you." It hesitates, then the cat comes over to rub your ankles in a friendly way. "Your garden is just lovely. Thea says they're going to get some bees to help keep it healthy."

Rosenstern chuckles softly, leaning down to scritch the cat behind the ears. "Thank you! Though it did take a while to get it to how it is. I'm glad to hear about the bees, though. How are you getting along here so far?"

Devorael purrs and nuzzles in catform as the crow sits up higher and croaks with feeling. "It's lovely. I wish I'd come by sooner to introduce myself before I needed help. It's strange, to be around everyone so much older here. At least, they all feel older than me."

Rosenstern smiles as he continues the scritching, "Good, I'm glad! Hopefully things will turn out all right. I wouldn't worry about age, really. I'm not too much older, all in all.

Devorael isn't about to stop Rosie, not for a moment. "What was it like when you first came here? Was the land wilder, or was it tamed and you just made a good place for the butterflies and bees?"

Rosenstern mms more to himself, thoughtfully. "Like a lot of land on the outskirts of cities, it was pretty well laid-out and partly developed. I think that it was sold off years and years ago and just was never used for a long time, 'till we came here. I wouldn't say the land was wilder forty years ago. We try not to make too much of an impact on the local wildlife."

Devorael nods in both Borrowed animals. "That's what I thought... It feels good here." The cat stretches, purring even louder. "I'm sorry to get you in the middle of this mess."

Rosenstern shakes his head, crouching down beside the cat now. "It's all right. Hey, we agreed to help! While I don't know what the Dominicans want done, we'll wait and see what happens."

Devorael says, "I just had the one dealing with them, and it seemed to be all right. But then the messenger today seemed so angry."

Rosenstern frowns a little. "Strange. Maybe it's something that makes Justice uncomfortable to be having to call on non-Justice people.

Devorael curls tail around toetips. "I don't have a swarm yet, to be truly comfortable... that's how I feel best. So it feels good to have others going with me in this. Right now, I feel too... single."

Rosenstern tilts his head to the side. "A swarm?"

Devorael nods. "Bees. Or ants. Or something else like that. Where many are one, and protect. It's hard to get things done around humans sometimes that way, but it really feels good to be there."

Rosenstern says, "Oh, I think I see. Are you more used to swarms than individuals?"

Devorael says, "I was my first assignment... it was guarding a beekeeper who is trying to save honeybees. There are almost no wild bees left, you know."

Rosenstern says, "Really? There seem to be more than enough when I'm in the gardens. Unless those don't count as 'wild?'"

Devorael says, "They're not. They're from hives sometimes miles away, domesticated. The problem is that the mites killing the wild hives can still infect the tame hives. The one I was guarding was trying to maintain by crossbreeding with bees from other parts of the world. They're hoping to stop the mites, but he wanted to see if he could make some that were resistant... so he didn't have to medicate the bees." The cat purrs even more loudly. "It was wonderful."

Rosenstern says, "I think I heard something about that. didn't something of that sort go, well, kind of awry?"

Devorael says, "Those were African bees. These were Italian." The crow makes a sound like a coughing laugh and the cat licks his paw. "Much gentler. Maybe not as much honey, but still good pollinators."

Rosenstern says, "Oh, I see,, And... that was when you needed he help of the Dominicans?"

The crow looks down. "No... that was here. There was a poacher... he was killing many creatures, and cruelly, and painfully. I met a Cherub, very kind. He was one of Dominic's, and his sense of Justice told him to help. Dominic allowed it, but now I owe a Favor."

Rosenstern frowns. "That's a weird sense of kindness. I mean, in theory, we're all on the same side and should be more than happy to help each other out. Why did they go to the trouble of insisting that it be a favor you owe them?

Devorael says, "I suppose it is Just. I don't understand much about that... I guess I think too much in terms of pack and swarm and pride."

Rosenstern smiles, "Well, I'm sure that if things go well, Thea will consider you a part of her herd Though I admit I'm still a little concerned about Justice's actions in all this.."

Devorael hesitates. "I am sure it's for the best. It wouldn't ask me to do something if it didn't think I could." Would it? It doesn't take any skill at all to read the cat's body language, even if the crow's is a bit obscure.

Rosenstern makes a quiet sound. "Well. We are all on the same side, even Justice, even if I don't agree with all that Justice does. And I don't think even Justice believes in 'suicide missions.'

The cat nuzzles Rosie's hand. "Thank you for talking to me. You really do feel like somewhere where there are flowers to hide in and roll around."

Rosenstern blinks a little, and smiles warmly, tickling the cat under his chin. "You're welcome, Deva. Feel free to come to me anytime if there's something I can help with."

Devorael says, "I will. Thank you. I should go sleep now... The hosts need it."

Rosenstern smiles and nods, reluctantly stopping the scritches. "All right. Good night, Deva. See you in the morning."

As the pair of angels say their goodnights, a waft of rose and patchouli drifts through the room, seeming to swirl through the currents of the air before wrapping itself around Rosenstern. Once it centers on the Mercurian, it becomes very intense for a moment before dissipating. As the scent grows, Rosenstern feels the words spoken directly into his mind, "Child, I would have you come home.

Devorael draws in a deep breath with nose and beak, and bows low, crow wings spread and beak to toe, the cat with one paw out and nose to ground. Young it may be, but it recognizes Power when it feels it.

Rosenstern looks rather confused for a moment. "Mutter?" he says, as the scent becomes more intense. AS the scent fades away, his expression is a mask of confusion for a moment, then he shakes his head as if to clear it. "Coming, Mutter," he says without irony or ire. "Deva, Mom wants me to go back home, I'm not sure why or for how long. I don't think it'll be for too long, else I'm sure she would have told me so."

Devorael says, "Of course, if she's asking, you must go." Nothing but total acceptance there. "I hope you're right and we meet again soon. I'll tell the others."

Rosenstern smiles quietly. "I'm pretty sure it'll be soon. I'd better tell them myself, just so nobody worries overmuch." Though he would rather not wake up people, it's better that they hear it from him directly rather than via a scrawled note.

Devorael accepts that quietly. "See you soon, then." It flies and pads out, the crow sleeping on the back of the couch and the cat curled up with nose under thick, fluffy tail on a cushion.

It only takes Rosie a few minutes to let everyone know he's been summoned. Bella answers the rap at Slate's door, wrapped surprisingly decently in a sheet and opens the door to let Rosie talk directly to the big blonde. Slate wanders over to the door when Bella opens it, forgetting that he's nude when he hugs Rosie good trip. Ely takes the news quietly and soon the Mercurian is ready to go back to Heaven.

Rosenstern steps out of the house, closing the door behind him, and pauses long enough to let Thea know that he's been told to come back to Heaven for a short while. Then he shifts to his Celestial form, winging his way up into the night air, and with a faint ripple of light and the scent of roses, he ascends. Shortly, then, he appears near his Heart, and scurries through the Grove, not wanting to keep Mom waiting any longer than she already has.

Aside from Rosie's abrupt return to visit Heaven, the night passes uneventfully and the next morning comes in cool and clear. Well before sunrise, Bella has risen and snuck down to the kitchen to prepare a farewell breakfast for the angels who are on their way to the tiny ghost town of Dry Gulch.

Devorael is down there, tail tip curled around toes, looking out the window. The crow is sitting on the windowsill, sleeping, but stirs and wakes as Bella arrives. It caws a quiet greeting.

Conary spent the night watching the stars move across the sky. When Bella began to move about the kitchen, he came there as well, and knocked on the door frame.

Conary says, "Can I assist you?"

Bella smiles and crouches, rubbing the back of the cat's neck, "You know, I think we've got some tuna in the fridge if you'd like some." Conary's voice catches her attention and she smiles up at the Elohite, "Not a bit. You're going to be going off to war, so to speak, so you get to sit back and get spoiled."

Conary says, "I can at least fetch the tuna, for a fellow soldier," he said, a smile just barely turning up the corners of his mouth"

Shateishael pads downstairs a short while later in just his jeans, stretching and pushing his heavy tousled mane out of his eyes. His face lightens in a genuine smile when he sees Bella in the kitchen, and he pauses to give her a light kiss on the back of her head before he sits somewhere out of the way in the kitchen. He nods amiably to Deva-cat and Connor, then rumbles relaxedly to Bella, "Lemme know if y'wanta hand with breakfast, sweetheart?"

Conary gets the tuna from the cabinet, and the can opener. He takes at least twice as long as needed, first examining the can opener, then running it around the can twice, just to see. Eventually, tuna ends up on a plate where DevaCat can reach it.

Devorael hmms. "You think in terms of soldier, I think in terms of pridemate or member of the swarm... diversity is good." It's discovering so much. "Thank you!" it adds to Connor.

Conary nods

Conary says, "diversity is amazing, he says with sincere awe."

Bella laughs as she straightens up, "Thank you both. Damn, sometimes it's hard to spoil angels." She starts putting together pancakes and a pot of coffee, humming under her breath and moving around the kitchen like she's familiar with cooking there.

Conary blinks at Bella.

Conary says, "I got to watch the stars wheel across the sky. I need more spoiling?"

Elisheba's body rouses her with seductive promises of coffee, her stomach rumbling as if it hadn't been feasted the night before. She ambles out to breakfast dressed in boxer briefs and a wifebeater, hair still somewhat rumpled.

Shateishael smiles with quietly happy warmth at Bella, not saying anything. He seems to deeply enjoy just watching her move around while preparing breakfast.

Devorael nibbles the tuna, then pads over to the Malakite and rubs against her ankle. No words, just a friendly hello.

Elisheba smiles, and bends down to rub the neck and shoulders of the Cat, returning the greeting in kind. She takes in the room with a sweep of her eyes as she stands and smiles as she pours coffee and takes a seat.

At Conary's comment, Bella grins broadly, "That is a pretty amazing treat in and of itself. But, yes, everyone needs more spoiling. Go, sit. Have you had blueberry pancakes?"

Conary chuckles

Elisheba looks up with a hopeful smile. "Blueberry pancakes? Mmmmmmmmmmm."

Shateishael grins, rising to start collecting together the utensils needed to set the table, "Connor, you haven't lived 'til you've tasted Bella's blueberry pancakes."

Devorael makes its way over to Slate and repeats the ankle rub. Too nervous to eat?

Shateishael pauses and crouches to gently rub the Deva-Kitty's ears. He rumbles softly just to the cat, "S'okay, pretty kitty. We'll take good care of you, promise."

Conary nods, and says, "Then I shall certainly give them the attention they so clearly deserve." His tone is serious, but his eyes are smiling.

Conary sits, out of the way, watching Bella's preparations with great interest

Bella has the griddle hot and pancakes starting up in just a very few minutes, humming some kind of upbeat song under her breath. Before long, a steaming pile of pancakes is starting to accrue on the counter, "Help yourselves guys. I'll keep making them as long as you feel you can eat them."

Elisheba applies butter and syrup, and starts to work her way through, savoring every bite..

Shateishael makes a small plate with several broken-apart little pieces of pancake on it, and sets it where Deva-crow can help herself if she wishes. Then he seats himself and assiduously imitates Elisheba. Blueberry pancakes are obviously serious business around here!

Conary has eats one pancake plain, then one with just butter, then one with just syrup, then one with both, taking his time to enjoy each of them.

Elisheba pays Bella the most heartfelt compliment a person can give a cook, being the utter silence of the mouth accompanied by the clicking of tines on a plate.

The crow flies down and samples, then eats with enthusiasm. The cat goes back to the tuna, but the tail is still slightly puffed. Well, more than normal, anyway.

Shateishael sighs contentedly several servings later, pushing his plate away and rumbling contentedly, "If I eat any more, m'not gonna be able to walk, let alone run errands for Justice!" He grins, rising to slide his arms around Bella in a gentle hug from behind, "Thanks, sweetheart. Rosie's gonna be jealous he missed one a' your wonderful breakfasts."

Elisheba grins and wipes her mouth, sighing with satisfaction> She sips her coffee and then, "I suppose I'm not allowed to tease Rosie?"

Bella leans back into the hug and tips her head back to smile at Slate, "Maybe he will. You guys be careful out there, OK?"

Devorael leaps up on the windowsill and looks out. "How far is it?"

Shateishael chuckles at Elly, then smiles and lightly nuzzles Bella's forehead. "We will, beautiful. Try to keep Thea from redecorating the entire place, wouldja?" He glances around with a grin to see if the big mare is in earshot.

Shateishael adds cheerfully to Elly, "Why not? He says he teases all the time, but I keep missing it. Maybe he'd like teasing back?"

Thea is heard to snort outside the kitchen window at that.

Bella gently disengages herself from Slate and answer Deva's question, "It's about a forty-five minute drive. I looked it up last night. You should all probably be hitting the road soon."

Conary takes the last pancake, after checking that no one else claimed it, and eats with obvious pleasure.

Bella smiles at Conary's enjoyment, "Next time, I'll do the pecan ones for you." She winks at Elisheba, "I keep waiting for some little femme to snatch you up and stuff you with good food, you know."

Elisheba gets up, stretches luxuriously, and makes her way to the bathroom for washing up and to her room to dress for the occasion. She makes a reappearance a short while later in sturdy black jeans, cowboy boots, and a shirt sleeved button down shirt. Her well loved bat is in tow, no doubt some other goodies are tucked away here and there, just in case.

Devorael purrs to the mare, but its tail is further puffed.

Conary washes up at the kitchen sink, then stands at the door, ready to go

Shateishael chuckles at Thea's snort, smiles at Bella, and heads off to get dressed himself. Like Elisheba he returns soon in very different attire: same style sturdy jeans, Doc Martens, a flannel shirt... and over that leather motorcycle riding gear. Slung easily over one shoulder is a military duffel stuffed full of something that clanks occasionally. "Deva, you mind if I toss my armor into the back of your car for just-in-case? And Connor, you want one, there're plenty of good swords to choose from."

Devorael says, "Feel free to put anything there you need, Slate. "

Shateishael nods, "Thanks." He paces quietly out the door, and a moment later is astride his bike, ready to go.

Elisheba picks up her own jacket with a questioning look to Deva, "How 'bout mine as well? The bat rides with me, of course... "

Shateishael gives Thea a hug when she comes over to say goodbye, murmuring reassuringly to her also as he gently runs his fingers through her forelock. Then she steps back and paces over to stand next to Bella, watching as the group starts up their various vehicles.

Bella throws an arm over Thea's withers, smiling somewhat tightly and waving to the departing angels.

Elisheba stows her 'armor' as well, and slides the bat into a kind of sheath she's arranged on the back of the bitch seat. She straddles her bike and turns it on, checking for gas levels and so on, as if she hadn't been checking over all her equipment right before bed..

Devorael leaps into the seat of the car and slides itself into a still-latched seatbelt. Because cats don't fly, of course.

Shateishael wheels his bike over to Connor's window and hands him the mike from Slate's passenger helmet, so they can communicate if necessary on the road. Then he grins at Elisheba once her bike is running smoothly and does a helmet check on all their mikes.

The crow swoops in the open window and lands on the back seat, although Connor could just Sing them into communication.

The drive is as uneventful as the evening was, a strangely mundane start to something that could turn out to be dangerous on so many levels. Dry Gulch is off the main highway by quite a bit. Touristy overly-bright signs give directions at all the important turns, proclaiming "West's Only Execution Museum!" and "Over one thousands pieces of genuine western artifacts!" The town itself is like many ghost towns, very old square-facades interspersed with obviously new and tourist-aimed buildings. The museum is at the end of the only street.

Devorael sniffs cautiously... It's never been anywhere like this before.

Shateishael raises an eyebrow at the advertisements. Excitement over executions... creepy. He grins faintly to himself and makes a mental note to keep that opinion to himself while they're talking to Justice's Seneschal.

The scents are less exhaust-laden than many places Devorael has been in its somewhat limited travels. There is dust and sugar and grease in the air. There is a smell of age here and the tourist-trap trappings seem rather forced. The museum dominates the whole town, seeming somehow larger than it is.

Also, strangely for a tourist trap in early spring, there seem to be no visitors.

The building that houses the Dry Gulch Museum is old, at least a century and a half old. The outside walls are covered in clapboard and there is a high, square-topped facade. A plaque in front proclaims that it was once the town's court house and that it has been kept as close to original as possible with effort made to keep modern renovations such as electricity unobtrusive.

Devorael wiggles free of the seatbelt and leaps out of the car once it comes to rest, at the same time as the crow flies out through the window and circles overhead.

Shateishael glances around as he unzips his jacket and takes off his helmet... not many folks, good. Should be easy to sneak in a cat and a crow. He crouches so he's closer to eyelevel with Deva-cat and rumbles quietly, "I don't expect problems here, Deva-kitty, but if anything bad happens you run your cat vessel to Connor, n' let me 'n Elly take care of anythin' hostile, 'kay?"

Elisheba parks her motorcycle next to the car, and removes her helmet, revealing a wary look. She sets her helmet on the rear seat and takes her bat off the bike, settling it through a loop as she listens to Slate, nodding in agreement before looking around more carefully.

Devorael purrs in answer, the crow staying overhead for a moment. After a moment, the cat nods and winks as an afterthought, then cleans a paw. Look casual - that's the ticket!

The only other vehicle in the whole tiny town seems to be a large, battered red Ford pickup parked in front of the museum. There is a warm yellow glow in the windows of the building. The only lights on down the whole length of the street.

Shateishael grins and gently ruffles the cat's ears, then straightens, glancing at Elly to see if she's noticed anything untoward. If not, he'll head for the door, glancing inside before holding it open for the others.

Elisheba shrugs to Slate and starts out for the lighted entryway.

Shateishael nods once to Elly, then continues to watch silently as the others enter. Since she's an excellent point-angel, he'll tailgate after everyone else.

Inside, the walls are stained a somber brown and the wooden floorboards are sanded and polished to a mirror shine. The entrance is into a lobby of sorts with a solid wraparound counter that holds signs explaining prices for the museum's tours and holding racks of pamphlets about the various exhibits. To the right are a pair of doors, one with a sun stenciled on it, the other with a crescent moon. To the left is a door with a pane of frosted glass that takes up the entire top half. Painted in a plain block script are the words "Court Clerk." On the bottom half of the door, there is a small brass plaque with the legend "Staff Only" engraved discreetly.

Along the walls, there are photos and paintings of various past inhabitants of the town. Some are stiff, posed portraits. A couple are of people that look decidedly slack-faced and slightly "off" in some way. A closer look will show these particular photos to be of corpses either posed as if sitting for a portrait or simply lying inert in their coffins.

Behind the desk is a man that looks like he may have stepped out of one of the photos. The skin of his face and hands is leathery and wrinkled, burned a deep brown. His hair is cut and groomed neatly, slick against his head, and both it and the handlebar mustache he wears are pure, luminous white. Brown eyes peer out of deeply creased sockets. He's dressed simply, wearing a pair of heavy denim jeans and a flannel shirt in a simple red and black check pattern. The pants are held up with a pair of well-worn leather suspenders. On his feet are a pair of cowboy boots that look as if they have been used for their actual purpose and not just as a fashion accessory. He wears a gun belt and the ivory grip of a pistol protrudes from his holster. Attached to one of the suspenders is a brass six-pointed star, engraved with the words "Dry Gulch" and "Sheriff."

The crow follows Elisheba, with the cat moving silently a couple of paces after. On seeing the man, it pauses.

Shateishael nods politely to the man, then glances to the others.

When the door opens and the angels start entering, the man raises his head from something, looking over the tops of a pair of reading glasses, "'Bout time ya'll arrived. I's afraid you'd decided to Welsh."

Elisheba comes in, nodding her head to the man politely.

Shateishael raises an eyebrow at that, but determinedly remains politely silent.

The crow lands on the cat's back. "No, sir. Here we are, as charged, and here are our companions." Wow, first time the Kyriotate has pluraled itself in Eli or Slate's presence.

Elisheba gives the man a direct look, and a relatively easy smile. She shrugs, saying nothing.

Shateishael folds his arms and leans his shoulder against the wall near the doorjamb, so he can see as much of the room as possible. Christ on a flaming rubber crutch, he thinks, and people tell me Seraphs are rough-edged!

The man's eyes move over the group before him, narrowing as he examines Elisheba and Shateishael, flicking over Conary briefly and finally settling on the cat-and-crow, "Well, I guess ya'll ain't exactly late, at that." Putting down the book he had been reading, the man stands, revealing himself to be slightly on the thick side of lanky. He fishes a heavy ring of keys out of his pocket and starts toward a door behind the counter, "There's been some nasty business going on that Dominic has been lookin' into. Ain't been too awful much of a rush until yesterday mornin' when I got here to take over from the night man."

Elisheba asks "So what happened?", being ever direct.

Without looking back at them, he says, "That's what you're going to come see. It's kinda somethin' you have to see to get the impact of." He opens the door and steps through, holding it open for Deva and its companions, "See, we're more than just a museum or a tether. We actually carry out some of the boss's earthly sentences here. It's our charge, y'see, to rid the Corporeal of the scum an' assholes that pollute it."

Shateishael waits for Connor and Deva to follow Elisheba before he paces quietly after them. Internally he winces... this sounds disgusting already.

Devorael listens, following on soft feet, but already thinking it won't like the smell behind the door.

Elisheba grunts. "It's a dirty job... " and follows into the room..

The room the Seneschal leads you through is a courtroom. There are glass cases around the perimeter with photos and shelves of artifacts. There are sets of ancient-seeming shackles. A display of different types and ways of tying a noose. Scale-model gallows show the different ways a person could be sent to do the air-dance. At the head of the room is the judge's seat. In the stiff wooden chair, there sits a fearsome looking scarecrow with what appears to be a pig's head and goats horns somehow drilled into the skull. It is dressed in black judges robes and wears a white powdered wig. Picked out in bullet holes along the front of the bench is the word "JUSTICE". There is a small dock where the accused used to stand during trial. There is a foul smelling stain beneath it, and the scent of death and offal fills the whole chamber. Hanging from the bare rafters is a length of hacked-short hempen rope.

Elisheba coughs as she deals with the smell. "Ahh.. that is quite a way to express an opinion."

Shateishael sighs softly and wonders why a brand-spanking-new young Jordiite Kyriotate is being tapped for horrific crap like this. He, as a Stone angel, believes in allowing folks to learn from their own mistakes, true... but hurting them before they've even done anything? If this is Justice's style, he's now got one more reason to dislike them... not that he was short on reasons previously, he amusedly notes to himself.

Shateishael remains discreetly silent as he looks around.

Devorael ... stares, its nose wrinkling. So many things it could say, and none of them would be right. Finally it looks up at the man, and the crow croaks "What would Lord Dominic have us do?"

Elisheba stares around and wonders to herself if it is a matter of justice or pride that got Deva tapped to take care of this.

The Seneschal lets you all take in the scene, "I came in and found my partner had been subjected to at least three of the execution practices exhibited here in the museum." His lip lifts in a snarl as he indicates the scarecrow, "That abomination was in the seat of Judgment." He looks down at Deva, "Find the asshole that did this. It ain't his first strike and we're havin' a time figuring out just who in Hell it is. We think he's got someone on the inside. We're ripping through the ranks trying to find who it might be. We need someone from outside to be our ears and our jailors." He pauses and adds with a certain grim finality, "After that, we'll do our job."

Elisheba nods. "So do you have any information whatsoever regarding who or what is doing this?"

Devorael makes itself move, makes itself sniff. The crow comments "We think we might need a dog. One with a very good nose, maybe with wolf blood." It doesn't take off from the cat's back, though.

Dominic's Seneschal sits on the edge of one of the lawyer's tables at the front of the courtroom, crossing his arms across his chest, "Whoever or whatever they are, they seem to think of themselves as avengers. This was the third death like this." Brown eyes find the crow and it nods, "I kin find ya'll some hounds, certainly. Got more than a few hunters 'round these parts."

Shateishael rumbles slowly, "Wait. You're tellin' us the Seneschal of a Tether of Justice... was slain in his own Tether?!"

The man smirks at Slate, "You just ain't all that quick are ebony? Yes, my fellow Seneschal was murdered and left strung up here." The look on the weathered face is murderous and color is climbing up his neck, "The only thing that kept it from being blasphemous is that the actual tether ain't in here. It's out back."

Shateishael stares at the old man for a while, then rumbles evenly, "I'm quick enough to know by the wording of your demand to the Kyrio... that she's fulfilled what was laid on her."

The cat catches the sour scent of fear and old sweat. Wood polish and blood and things much more visceral taint the air.

Devorael makes itself approach the scarecrow, trying to get a scent, hoping that it can do it this time and never have to enter this room again.

Elisheba makes a noise between a cough and a grunt, and doesn't look much like she was trying to stifle a laugh.

The old man has the good grace to snort a laugh and smirk, "Y'got me there, young fella. I'm just right pissed off. The angel that was killed here las' night has been servin' Heaven faithfully for over four centuries, the last two of them at this tether. He was my partner for the last century and a half of that." His posture tries to be casually angry, but there is a stiffness there that he can't entirely hide.

When Deva gets near the scarecrow, she can smell that the pig's head is beginning to spoil despite the room being cool. There are other smells, too, but the scents of several humans have mingled together on the robe.

Devorael sighs and heads for the windowsills and the doors... trying to get a scent from them, maybe something different.

Shateishael nods once, well aware that's the closest to an apology he's likely to get... and finding he doesn't particularly care. What he really wants is more information, "So what can y' tell us about th' other two executions like this? Were they here too?"

The fact that this place is an active museum means that there are a lot of scents. Some are old, some are new. There are at least two particularly strong scents. One carries that stench of fear and exhaustion in it. The other smells almost of excitement.

Pushing away from the table, the Seneschal starts back for the door that leads to the lobby, "No. They've been across the country. One was in some backwater of Kansas. The other one was in Boston." He holds the door for the angels.

Devorael pauses. "There's something here..." it says. "We need that dog... there's a scent here that's out of place, sir. Something not at all right. Very strong."

Elisheba leaves the room and takes a grateful, clean lungful of air as she preceeds the others into the main room.

The man pauses and looks closely at Devorael, "I kin have it for you by the end of the day." There's an almost eager expression in his eyes.

Shateishael is appalled at what he's hearing. This Justicar is expecting Deva, the rough equivalent of an angelic baby, to track down something (or things) powerful enough to take out a Tether's Seneschal -- one that's at least half a century old?! Or are they just seeing her as bait? He's going to be seriously unhappy with Justice if so... he frowns, glancing at the older looking man, and rumbles, "If we'd known what to expect, we coulda brought a dog, mister." He sticks with Deva, much though he'd like to quit this noisome room.

Devorael says, "Please do, sir. It's good that it doesn't rain here, but... excuse us please... we need to check outside..."

Shateishael will follow Deva closely. The stench of death and rot may be well known to him, but it isn't one he ever wants to get blasé' about.

The Seneschal nods and continues to hold the door open, "Probably best if you walk around from the front. The back door was pretty tore up." He looks at Slate appraisingly and nods, "Probably right, son, but it jest didn't occur to me that a bloodhound might be a good idea."

Devorael darts out into the main room and waits by the door. It's never going to get that scent out of its fur, never.

He continues talking as he ushers you back into the lobby where Elisheba and Conary wait, "I've got files on th'other two murders in the museum's office. I'll git 'em to ya before ya'll take off."

Shateishael nods and sighs quietly, pacing out after the cat.

Shateishael rumbles quietly to Elisheba, "Wanna check out th' back door, see if we recognize th' damage? Might be different if a clawed thing opened it, from if someone with a crowbar did."

Devorael has enough sense to wait and walk with the Malakite and the Seraph, rather than scurrying off ahead.

Elisheba nods, "Good idea, Slate." She murmurs, even as she directs her feet to go that way.

The Seneschal leads you around the back of the building. Behind a high razor-wire-topped fence, there is a gallows. The wood has the grey look of being weathered, but it seems to have been sealed somehow. It doesn't seem to have been touched. The back door of the building, however, has been demolished. It looks as if it has been rammed with something large and heavy. The half-shattered iron-and-wood park bench lying outside it seems a likely candidate. There are marks of a struggle in the dirt and mud around the doorway, but nothing within ten feet of the frame of the gallows.

Devorael stops at the window it noticed the smell at before, and sniffs carefully.

The scents out here are a little fainter, having blown away with the wind. The window looks perfectly intact, no signs of force at all. But the scent of excitement is still there, and of fear, and there are other scents here as well. Excitement/nerves/exertion.

Shateishael glances at the Seneschal, "You said three methods of execution had been used... what were they?"

Elisheba crouches on the ground and looks for footprints, if not entirely obscured by wind, dust, and the other footprints of well meaning folk. "Wonder if we're dealing with one or many.. "

Devorael says, "There's definitely more out here..."

Shateishael rumbles quietly, "Now why go t' all th' effort of rammin' in a door... when there's a perfectly good window they coulda broke?"

As he enumerates them, he raises a finger for each one, "Dragged behind a horse. Shot. Hanged." Individual footprints are hard to find, but at least one set of the tracks look more like drag marks than feet.

Shateishael's head jerks around to the Seneschal at that, and he says sharply, "Behind a horse?! Shit, more stuff you shoulda told us ahead a' time. We shoulda brought Thea."

Elisheba says, "Someone likes drama, I'm thinking. Maybe someone.. or something new to the game? Thinkin' it's all like you see in the movies?"

At Slate's question, the Seneschal says, "Because the rooms behind that door don't have windows. There's a hallway behind it. Judge's chambers on one side, cells on the other. They built the cellblock without windows so there'd be less chance of escape by the inmates."

Shateishael nods to the Seneschal, then paces away from the door, staying carefully off any tracks while he searches for hoof prints.

The man shrugs, "Dragged, anyway. They seem to've used a motorcycle for the actual draggin'."

Shateishael sighs and pauses, "Ah. That's different."

Devorael growls conversationally to itself as it continues to sniff for scents.

The odors are mixed, mostly human, some male, some female. It's hard to tell exactly how many. There is also the faint scent of myrrh and oil.

Devorael says, "This is different. Sir, are myrrh and oil commonly used at this Tether?"

The Seneschal blinks, off-handedly saying, "Call me Zeke." He shakes his head, "No, not usually. When we need consecration, we usually burn sage."

The crow circles lower, its voice softer. "And, also, Sir... you mentioned you were concerned it was an inside job?"

Zeke's attention shifts to the corvid and he nods, "Well, they knew enough about the goin's-on aroun’ here to come when it wasn't me. He's an Elohite. They woulda had a harder time gettin' me down."

Devorael says, "It might be a good idea for us to get the dog and then have us see if we can match the scents."

Shateishael thinks for a while, then steps to one side, pulling out his cell. He calls the ranch, reassuring the two women there that everything's fine so far, then asks them to ask a favor of Rosenstern. When the Mercurian gets back, if it's anytime soon, could he pick up both one of the cat carriers, and Holly (the golden retriever), and drive out to the rendezvous point? Deva needs a dog vessel for some tracking.

Shateishael speaks with Thea and Bella for a bit, making sure everything's fine with them, then smiles and gives them both his usual goodbye, incorporating Stone's traditional phrasing as well as his own, "Love you both. Stay strong, and see you soon."

Shateishael paces back over to the Seneschal and quietly asks, "Gettin' you down? What's your choir?

The visit back to Heaven had been rather uneventful, something like the Celestial version of "And what have you learned in school today, honey?" for the Mercurian and his Superior. The obvious purpose of keeping the sensitive Rosie out of the nastier parts of this morning's visit were made obvious without actually being said. After a surprisingly short amount of time, Novalis seems satisfied and sends Rosenstern back. The angel finding himself in the kitchen just as Bella is hanging up from speaking with Slate.

Rosenstern blinks as he reappears. "Oh! Hello, Bella!" He straightens his vest a bit, smiling.

Zeke chuckles and hooks his thumbs into his galluses, "Oh, I ain't a Malakite or nothin'. But I'm much better in a fight than my friend. He's going to be in Trauma for a good long while, too."

Devorael was actually relieved the sensitive Mercurian was called by his Mutter, but since it's unaware of his return it continues to track and make sure all of the excited scents disappear on the cycles... knowing it's possible some will stay and go off somewhere close.

Shateishael nods gravely to Zeke, "Not a death I wish on anyone, nah. You a Cherub, then?"

Bella blinks and then laughs, shaking her head, "Either you or the flower lady have a hell of a sense of timing." She holds up the phone with a grin, "That was Slate. Apparently they need a cat carrier and a dog down at the creep-fest Dominic calls a Tether."

Elisheba prowls the area somewhat, mostly keeping herself in the highly trafficked areas so as not to spoil any lingering scents. She grins to Zeke, but makes no comment, simply pacing slowly, and trying to take in information, examining the area in hopes of further information.

The scents do seem to disappear with the motor-oil-and-exhaust funk of the motorcycles.

Conary stands out of the way, doing what he almost always does - observe

Rosenstern grins sheepishly. "Mom does tend to have a good sense of timing." He nods, rather glad he missed the whole meeting if Bella calls it a 'creep fest.' "Right, then. I'll ask Thea if she'll let me bring Holly. Thanks very much, Bella!"

Devorael wrinkles its nose again. That fur is going to need to be bathed for days... and the Kyriotate isn't looking forward to the taste.

Zeke just smiles at Slate, "So, you're right that the little Dominion only has t'go as far as listenin' to me an' seein' this whole blasted mess. Is that all you lot are gonna do?"

Shateishael folds his arms and drawls, "If there's no cooperation from Justice, then yep."

Bella hugs Rosie, "You're welcome, hon." Thea allows as how she'd have no problem with Rosenstern taking Holly as long as he returns the dog in good health.

Shateishael watches the Seneschal and waits. Patiently... like (unsurprisingly) Stone.

Rosenstern hugs Bella back warmly. He promises solemnly to help Deva watch over Holly, then packs up the LimeBug with the cat carrier and lets Holly hop onto the front seat with the window open just enough for her to enjoy the whizzing air as the ancient VW Beetle heads off down the road to the Justice Tether.

The Seneschal arches a brow, "I never said we wouldn't help out, son, just that we weren't going to be the ones to do this whole thing. I've got a stack of papers about a foot high for ya back in the office, and there's a few contacts."

Conary watches Slate and Zeke for a moment longer, then steps toward them, carefully avoiding getting in the way.

Shateishael considers for a moment, then nods, "Okay. Got a dog on th' way. Wanna pack up th' papers for us?"

Conary says, "I will do whatever I can to assist, of course. "

Elisheba sighs and tries to emulate her friend of Stone. Without a convenient something or someone to smash, however, she is feeling a touch twitchy.. the smells of death and the need for battle around her without a handy outlet. She shrugs, "I'd be happy to pick up any papers and what have you.. just point me that way."

Shateishael nods quietly to Elly, "Thanks. I'll keep an eye on Deva, 'n wait for Rosie."

Zeke starts back around toward the front of the building, "They're just in the office in there." As he's wandering toward the door again, the sun slips over the horizon, causing the Seneschal to pause and raise his face toward the rising orb. He raises his hands upward, palms out in greeting and benediction for that moment.

Shateishael turns towards the rising sun, his face lifted for the dawning rays. At the first delicate touch of light he rumbles quietly an ancient Gnostic greeting to her,

I am Protennoia, the Thought that dwells in the Light;
She who exists before the All.
I move in every creature.
I am the Invisible One within the All.
I am perception and Knowledge, uttering a Voice by means of Thought.
I am the real Voice.

Devorael turns, cat and crow, toward the sun and genuflects in silence.

Shateishael smiles slowly... it's not really a Christian greeting, but then neither is he. He turns to face the others, idly curious if Justice will be upset.

Conary stands still, watching the sun cast his shadow in front of him, trying to tell if this vessel can detect the sunlight with more than just its eyes.

The Elohite's Vessel feels the slight heat of the sun as well as the brightness of the sun's rays.

Elisheba turns to the sun, eyes open, taking in the freshening morning breeze and the powerful blast of the sun's light, raising her arms high as if embracing the whole of it..

Rosenstern's Beetle is on the road, the last few miles, as the sun comes up. He isn't about to unfocus from the road, but he does murmur a soft, quiet prayer as the sun comes up. It's just his imagination, but he imagines a pall cast over things as he pulls into the Tether's parking lot. He shivers a little -- Mom had said that the time would come to start trying to make it a more pleasant Tether, but now is definitely not that time -- and sets the hand brake, looking around for everyone.

Conary says, "Someone's arrived" when he hears the car."

Shateishael looks up in relief at sight of the lime colored LoveBug. "Ah, there's Rosie! Deva, he brought Holocaust an' a cat carrier for you."

Shateishael waves to Rosie, pacing over, "Hey, good t' seeya. Everythin' okay upstairs?"

Zeke's jaw sets very slightly at Slate's greeting, but he says nothing about it. It would be rude to bring it up when he's now asking for a favor. The papers that he promised were concealed by the clever expedient of being scattered all over the place, tucked into books and folders and shoved into drawers. He even has to dig through a stack of newspapers for an old issue. It takes him long enough that by the time he gets back, Rosie has arrived. The whole amounts to a rather impressive stack of papers and pictures.

Rosenstern glances at the dog. "I still think 'Holly' sounds better for you," he says companionably to her. He looks back up to Slate. "All set. What are we looking at here?"

The rugged cowboyish Seneschal looks Rosie over somewhat skeptically, "Yer apparently lookin' fer where the tracks of the varmints that killed my partner lead."

Shateishael opens the passenger door, letting the happy golden out to bounce around and greet everyone enthusiastically, tail wagging a mile a minute. To Rosie he rumbles, "Got a murderer or three to track down. The co-Seneschal of this tether got messily killed."

Rosenstern frowns. "Scheisse," he murmurs, getting out of the car. "Why did they want outside help?"

Shateishael says, "They think it was an inside job."

Shateishael laughs, ruffling Holly's ears as she bounces around him a bit, then turns back to Rosie, adding laconically, "Cain't recommend you go look, truth be told, Rosebud."

Zeke has used a convenient banker's box to put the paperwork in. It's not neat, but it's all there. He drops it by the front tire of the Beetle, "That's all the information I've got about the other killin's we're aware of. This is the first one that wasn't a human."

Rosenstern takes in a slow breath, and nods, shakily. "Right," he says worriedly. "I... I'll avoid it, then. Gah, murders...."

Devorael lets the dog bounce around for a moment before slipping in. It's pretty obvious when it happens, because Holly gives a sort of shake and then trots over to the areas of strongest scent.

Shateishael grins ruefully, carefully squeezing Rosenstern's shoulder, "Not your job, hey? Don't sweat it. Wanna load up th' paperwork instead?"

Shateishael turns, watching the golden... then follows wherever she leads, carefully off to one side and back so as to stay off any tracks.

Rosenstern says, "A job I'd rather not have, at least."

Shateishael grins over his shoulder at Rosenstern, his teeth flashing slightly in the early dawn light... then turns back to focus on Holly.

Elisheba sighs, and finally, must find a place to put physical energy for the moment. With a word to Slate she wanders the perimeter of the area, looking for likely volunteer plants to take back to the ranch, perhaps for some sort of more glaringly apparent clue..

Shateishael nods in quiet understanding to Elisheba, and continues to ward the dog.

The trail is muddled. Very muddled. And getting cold. All Deva can really tell is that the bikes all seem to stay mostly together.

And that they came into town down the main drag and left that way. But there was really no other way to come or go.

Devorael says, "There were a lot of scents here, and they're all muddled together... but if we go inside..." Heaven, it hates to say this... "We might be able to tell more."

Rosenstern fidgets, then takes in a slow breath. "Would it... help to have people in there with you, or would it muddy the scent...?" He's definitely not eager at that idea.

Zeke has been waiting by the front door to the museum, thumbs hooked into his suspenders as he watches Deva try to track the scents of the miscreants. He turns and goes back inside without a word when it's suggested that you might all want to go inside.

Devorael says, "You shouldn't go, Rosie. It's not your place... you deal with other things. I can't think how you could help." Yes, it's protecting him. "We'll be back soon."

Shateishael raises an amused eyebrow at the goings-on, but simply continues to follow the dog.

Devorael goes in dog and crow, without enthusiasm, but with resolve. The cat stays outside with Rosie.

Shateishael glances around, noting how small the little 'museum' is... maybe 6 parking spaces, and the main road ends in the parking lot. Curious that no one noticed motorcyclists dragging an apparent human around.

Rosenstern shivers a little, and nods to Deva. "A-all right. I'll wait outside, then."

Shateishael leans against the doorjamb and waits for Deva to finish snuffling around.

Devorael- cat looks up at Rosie and purrs softly. The translating crow is gone, but the gentle rubbing of head on pants leg is clear enough.

Devorael-dog sniffs carefully as it can handle, although it feels like the horrible scents are coating its tongue.

Rosenstern glances down at the cat, and still a little worriedly, bends down to cradle the cat and scritch it as reassuringly as the uptight Mercurian can.

The scents here are a little stronger, possibly because they've not been exposed to the wind and the sun. There was an obvious struggle near the door that seems to lead toward the back of the building. It seems to be near the same place the smashed-in outside door was. The smell of death starts there. Whatever shape the Seneschal was in, the Vessel had already expired when the brought it inside.

Shateishael glances over at Zeke while he's waiting, and rumbles laconically, "Slate. Elly's th' lady outside, this is Deva here, an' Connor 'n Rosie are th' other two."

Zeke nods at the introductions, watching the dog sniff around the room, face grim.

Devorael says, "The Vessel was dead before it was brought here. But the struggle was inside. We think.. we might be able to detect these scents, if we smell them again."

Shateishael watches Deva expressionlessly, waiting.

Zeke nods, actually seeming to relax slightly at hearing that his partner was already dead when he was put into the noose in front of that abomination.

Shateishael says, "So th' struggle happened, they dragged him outside for the draggin', then the dead vessel was brought back in?"

The Seneschal strides over to the back corner of the room and opens that door, motioning down the short hallway that's revealed, "Judge's chambers on the right side, the door on the left leads to the cell bloc. They apparently smashed through the back door and through the one to the cells. There was a lot of blood in one of the cells, so we figured that was where the big part of the fight was."

Shateishael nods slowly, "'kay... so who's we?"

Zeke tips his head at the question, "We? We's, my Superior and the two other Servitors he sent down to help me see what we could figure out."

Shateishael nods slowly and expressionlessly again. "So... three a' Justice's servitors, an' you want us t' find your murderer? What's wrong with this picture?"

Shateishael tilts his head thoughtfully at Zeke, "We gonna find th' reason why in th' paperwork?"

Zeke smirks bleakly, "Because we think they had someone on the inside. Didn't I say that already? Look, they got this close to a Tether. They ain't Infernal. An' I don't think humans could'a done it."

Shateishael sighs, looking away to the dog again and rumbling quietly under his breath, "Justice," much the same way he might resignedly mutter, "Kids," were he human. As far as the Seneschal knows, he's telling the truth... which is making Slate feel twitchy. Helping Justice makes him feel like the old saying, 'Beware of Greeks bearing gifts.'

Zeke says, "An' as for what ye'll find in the paperwork is someone that's going seriously rogue or has one awful chip on their shoulder."

Devorael says, "How long would it take to assemble those who had access here, Sir?"

Shateishael raises an eyebrow, figuring it's easy for Justice to cause someone to get a huge chip on their shoulder.

Zeke arches a brow, "Y'mean everyone that's been near here in the last 48 hours? Prob'ly a couple weeks. If y'mean those that've been here since I found him? Maybe thirty-six hours."

Devorael paces in dog, while the crow sits on the doorframe. "We just want to try to match the scent, Sir. We may find nothing, if it is on the move... whatever did this. But we may find who helped it."

Devorael-cat nestles up against Rosie and purrs. The fur is slightly puffed, but Deva meant what it said: Rosie helps calm.

Zeke nods again, accepting that logic, "Well, I can get my two Brethren down here in about that thirty-six hours. They both have a lot of responsibilities. My Superior probably ain't gonna come. There were maybe two others mighta been near here, but they ain't really aware o' true Nature o' the place."

"I'd suggest you use that time to maybe look over the stuff in that box. You might be travelin' to track down some of it." He's still smiling that tight, odd little smile.

Shateishael sighs again, starting to get heartily tired of the mind games going on between the Kyrio and the Seneschal, "You got somethin' you wanna tell us now, Zeke, or what?"

Devorael blinks in all three forms, it not having even occurred to the young Kyriotate that Justice Himself might show up. Were it in Celestial form, it would have swirled and been, well, all wide eyes at that. "Are there any humans who serve here, Sir?" it manages.

Zeke takes a deep breath and lets it out with a gusty sigh, "We got two folks help with tours an' such. There's folks that work in the stores, but none o' them woulda been up here during that time." His gaze shifts to Slate and he snorts, anger showing quite clearly in his face, "Yeah, I got somethin' I want ta tell ya! I been ordered to stand down on this. I been told that I ain't to so much as set a foot toward finding who did this to my partner. An' it pisses me off right royal, too."

Shateishael looks relieved, "Finally, somethin' straightforward. Thanks, Zeke." He looks at the dog, adding, "Okay, you got anythin' else you need t' do here?"

Zeke nods to Slate, actually seeming to relax once he's got that off his chest, "This is my Place. He was my partner. We do good work here. Someone has come in and defiled my Place an' I get to send off a bunch of outsiders to do my Job. Tell me that wouldn't stick in your craw?"

Devorael skitters back a few steps before the Cherub's anger, and the crow spreads wings as if to take off. It takes a second to force speech. "Nothing else we can, right now. We wish it was otherwise. We... doubt that the other Servitors would have been involved, honestly... but maybe we could sniff the humans? All a human would have had to do would be to give them the layout and maybe keep watch..." It trails off as Zeke speaks.

The emphasis he puts on Place and Job are subtle, but there is a peculiar possessiveness to it.

Shateishael shakes his head to Zeke, "Nah, I understand, believe me. I'd feel th' same." He turns, yelling out the door, "ROSIE! We're takin' off -- load 'em up!"

Shateishael turns back, curiously asking Zeke, "Never heard of a co-Seneschal b'fore. That common with Justice's tethers?"

It takes Zeke a moment or two to get his composure back, but when he speaks to Deva, his voice is calm again, "I can get 'em here by tomorrow morning at latest. All four of 'em, humans an' angels alike." To Slate's question he smiles slightly, "I am the Guardian. He's the Judge."

"It's not common. We're a special kinda Tether."

Rosenstern perks up, hearing Slate's voice, then nods, and callls back, "Right!" He scritches the Deva-cat idly as he goes to start up the car.

Shateishael tries to think where he's seen or heard that sort of possessiveness before... maybe in a Cherub or two who was particularly tightly attuned. He nods to Zeke, digging in his wallet to find a battered business card. It says only 'Circle H Ranch' and the house phone number. "Gotcha. Well, if you got any questions, or remember anythin' else, give us a call."

Zeke adds, "It's not common. We're a special kinda Tether."

Shateishael considers, then asks, "That explained in th' paperwork?"

The Seneschal takes the card, glances at it, and tucks it into a battered leather wallet, "Yep. It is."

Devorael pads over and looks up at Zeke, while the crow flies down and perches on the golden's back. "We're greatly sorry about your partner, Sir."

Shateishael adds to the dog, "C'mon, kid... let's go read paperwork."

The rugged Vessel's head inclines in a solemn nod, "I appreciate your sympathy, kid."

Shateishael waits for the animals to leave first, then simply gives the traditional Stone goodbye, "Be strong," to Zeke before he departs as well.

The trip back to the house is uneventful, not even a suicidal jackrabbit darting across the road to disturb it. When the angels arrive back at the house, Bella and Thea are already waiting as well as a kettle full of hot water and a plate of sandwiches. The box of paperwork proves to be stuffed to the gills.

Devorael rides back with Rosie and Conary both.

Shateishael takes the time to give slow, calming hugs to both the big mare and the Eliite, then thanks them both for their patience. Then he paces back into the living room and settles in the usual overstuffed chair with a beer. "Okay, kid, you gonna tell us what you found?"

Two noses wrinkle at once, Deva having stayed in Holly for the moment... at least, until it can get the poor dog's nose cleansed of the horrible scents. The crow answers "There was excitement. And pain. And death. And anger, from Zeke... but the excitement is what chills me most."

Shateishael has shed out of everything but his jeans and his usual Thor's hammer pendant, with some relief. He idly scoops up the friendly tortoiseshell cat, rubbing her ears gently as she settles on his lap.

Shateishael says, "We need a little more than that, Deva. Who, how many, anything odd, when, where... stuff like that?"

Bella looks casually through the papers, brows wrinkling as she pulls out the newspaper that Zeke had had such a hard time finding. She's reading through it as he half-listens to Deva and Slate discuss the little field trip.

Rosenstern settles into a chair, setting out the tea for everyone present.

Shateishael nods a thank you to Rosie, holding the very cream-filled tea so the little tortie can enthusiastically lap some up.

Devorael says, "Too muddled. I got that it was at least four, that I know... males and females. But I'd know those scents again. For where and the rest... well. Scent... it doesn't work like that, especially when it's been so overtrodden. The oddest thing is the scented oils. That's very strange. They were totally out of place for the rest of the smells there. But for the rest..." It looks at Thea for help explaining the scent factor. "There's nothing for me to link it to. I do know they were older, though, and it had to have been soon after closing time for the museum."

Shateishael rumbles patiently, "What were the scented oils?"

Shateishael says, "An' what was older? The folks leaving the scents, or th' scents themselves?"

Devorael says, "Myrrh. Myrrh and oil. How often do people use that here? And the scents were older."

Rosenstern says, "Not often at all.. At least not myrrh. what kind of oil? Motor oil, hair oil, something else?"

Devorael thumps Holly's tail for a moment, thinking of how best to explain. "The ones who do holy acts in the Christian churches, or... maybe... the ones who try to summon and control celestials? The oil they use."

Shateishael looks thoughtful, nodding at Rosenstern's comment, and adding, "Think I hearda somea th' new pagans using odd scents, but from what th' kid's sayin', these'd haveta be non-humans... so... we know any Catholic rituals associated with revenge or justice that require that kinda stuff? Or is it just annointin' things?"

Shateishael sits up suddenly, "Chrismation!"

Devorael says, "If it was the new pagans, it's not any of the ones who come to the shel..."

Devorael blinks.

Shateishael oofs slightly as the cat on his lap indignantly digs in, then grins, "Sorry, Spooky." He gently sets her on the floor, then goes to the computer, "Moment..."

Rosenstern frowns. "Anointing oil. I thought only the Catholic and the High Episcopal churches used that anymore. Maybe the Orthodox--" He breaks of, blinking at Slate. "What, confirmation? Myrrh is used in that, yes, but not for much else...."

Shateishael says, "Yeah, here we go... 'The term Chrismation is used because of the perfumed holy oil, myrrh -- there's the Greek for it here as well -- or chrism, consecrated by a bishop, with which the recipient of the sacrament is anointed, uh, blah blah blah." He looks up. "There y'go."

Rosenstern says, "But that's mostly in the Orthodox churches, not really in the West...."

Shateishael says, "Yeah... an' ain't Justice known for bein' rabidly Catholic?"

Devorael says, "Zeke said they use sage there."

Shateishael glances back at the computer screen and adds, "An' it says here there's a Latin rite for Chrismation in th' Roman Catholic Church too." He blinks, turning to stare at Deva, "That's... right... that sure as hell ain't Catholic, either!"

Shateishael frowns thoughtfully, "Surely Justice wouldn't allow internecine religious squabbling in his folks?"

Shateishael considers for a moment, still frowning... then slowly settles back into his chair, "Whatcha found there, Bellisima?"

Bella glances up, blinking, "Well, he's also apparently concerned over a Protestant cleric. Check this out." She clears her throat and starts reading from the paper:

Topeka, KS

Prominent Kansas minister Jed Phillips was found dead last night on his family's ten acre compound near Topeka. While autopsy reports have not been released, authorities suspect foul play.

According to a member of Phillips' congregation, the reverend had recently experienced a sharp upswing in threatening communications following the well-publicized picketing of a gay serviceman's funeral.

"Brother Phillips was doing God's work," stated William Brown, a deacon at Grace Baptist, "and in this Godless country, that draws a lot of fire."

Phillips, best known for his outspoken opposition of gay rights, founded Grace Baptist in 1987.

A memorial service will be held August 6, 2006 at Grace Baptist in Topeka.

Shateishael grimaces slightly and has another swallow of beer, then rumbles, "Was th' homophobe one a' Justice's?"

Shaking her head, Bella thumps the paper with the back of her hand, "I know this guy. He's all anti-queer and always going on about Leviticus. I didn't know he bit the big one." She shrugs at the question, "Well, he's got kids, or tells everyone he does, so he's not a Celestial."

Shateishael snorts in disdain, "Leviticus... buncha narrow-minded selective bigots." He obviously bites down on more anger, muttering under his breath and having another swallow of beer.

The Eliite digs around in the box, coming up with two thick folders of papers and photos labeled "Phillips." She flicks through the first one, wincing at some photos she comes upon, "Ouch."

Rosenstern blinks to Bella, then notices the folder with the name on them. "The Tether was keeping tabs on him?"

Shateishael growls quietly, "Who's th' third dead one?"

Bella shoves some more of the papers around, "Uhm... apparently some big missionary guy..."

Shateishael rumbles slowly, "Let me guess... another non-Roman Catholic?"

At Rosie's question, she shakes her head, "Uhm.. apparently not so much keeping tabs as 'Somehow getting someone to give them police files.'"

Shateishael says, "In Boston?"

Bella asks, "Is what in Boston?"

"And, yeah, he's apparently based out of Georgia... usually that's going to be Baptist down there."

Shateishael says, "Th' missionary -- is he in Boston. Th' Tether's Guardian said there'd been three murders: here, in Kansas, an' in Boston."

Shateishael frowns thoughtfully, "So... all three were not Roman Catholic, 'least far as we can tell. Anythin' 'bout th' other two having... dramatic deaths?"

The Eliite kneels up near the coffee table, "Well, the guy's based out of Georgia but...." She pulls out some more newspaper pages, "Looks like the he was killed in Boston, yeah. He was up there for a convention or something."

Bella chuckles wryly, "Dramatic might start to describe it." She licks her lips nervously as he starts pulling out crime scene photos from one of the police files.

Rosenstern says, "I'm sorry, I missed something while I was away. There was one murder in the Tether. What do the other murders have to do with what's going on at the Tether if they're so far away?"

Shateishael kneels down next to Bella by the coffee table, and starts sorting papers, "'kay, let's get organized. Rosebud, you wanna take notes? Thea, here's some papers for you t' review, an' Deva, here's some for you. Rosie, 'pparently there's someone on th' inside helpin' with these murders. Dunno yet what the connection is."

The photos are strangely sterile despite their horrific contents. The stark light provided by the huge rigs brought in by the authorities make the colors all look just a little strange and not quite real.

Shateishael quietly makes sure all the photos go to him.

There's strangely little blood around. What is present is confined to the victim's clothing and the ruin of his head. From the front, the wound is almost hidden by the way the Reverend's normally neatly-combed hair falls over his forehead. From the back, it's a jagged ruin of bone, blood and grey matter. The body is arranged on a kneeler, such is sometimes used in Protestant churches for wedding ceremonies. Skillful use of rope has been used to hold it in a mockery of prayer, hands together, forehead resting on fingertips.

The pictures are from all angles and range from close-ups of the entry and exit wounds to a photo taken from a corner of the chapel to encompass the whole scene.

The reports attached to the photos include the M.E.'s findings and various information gathered from the investigation.

Shateishael sighs quietly, studying the photos, "Lookin' like we might indeed have a religious fanatic or four on our hands..."

Rosenstern looks at little queasy at the sight of the pictures, but he nods and takes notes on a pad of paper.

One of the photos is a close-up of the Reverend's hands, showing the edge of a piece of paper. Another photo shows the paper laid out on a steel surface. The paper looks as if it were torn out of a book, a page number in the upper left corner. The only other thing showing is one word in large type: "FAITH." On the backside is music.

Devorael flies down and turns pages with its beak. "The inside of the Tether... there was a 'Justice' defacement. Were there any comparable things at the other sites, Slate?"

Rosenstern says, "'Defacement?' How do you mean?"

Shateishael rumbles bleakly, "Yup," as he stares at the photo for a moment. Then, still studying it, he adds, "Rosie, note th' rev'rend had th' word Faith by him. Th' Seneschal had Justice. Who's got th' missionary's notes?"

Shateishael looks up then, adding, "Anyone here able t' read music?"

To Rosie he quietly and quickly explains how the Seneschal's body was found.

Bella is still up to her elbows in the box and she's reading something, mumbling to herself and blinking, "Uhm... I do. Apparently someone spray-painted "Charity" across the wall of the... bank they found him in.

Devorael says, "So... the next virtue is...?"

Shateishael nods to Bella, "Okay. It's not virtues, far as I c'n tell, Deva. They're Faith, Hope, 'n Love 'r Charity."

Shateishael says, "Depends on th' translation if it's Love or Charity."

Bella scrunches up her eyes as she thinks hard about something, "Well, we've got two of those..."

Rosenstern frowns, and nods, scribbling down JUSTICE, next to FAITH, then... an underline waiting for the next one. "wait..." He taps the photo with the paper. "Music on the backside... what's that number? I'll try to look it up in a hymnal, see which one it might be. Er...." He blinks, then writes in CHARITY." He blinks. "Sounds like a U2 song," he murmurs. "They're the three virtues, except for the 'Justice' part. Unless someone is replacing 'Justice' for 'Hope.'

Shateishael considers, "Lemme see... there's th' Contrary virtues: humility, kindness, abstinence, chastity, patience, liberality, diligence. Then there's th' Corporeal virtues: feed th' hungry, give drink to th' thirsty, shelter strangers, clothe th' naked, visit th' sick, minister to prisoners, bury th' dead. Then... ah."

Shateishael says, "Think we're lookin' at th' Heavenly virtues. There's two kinds: theological, which is love, hope, 'n faith, an' Cardinal... an' those are prudence, temperance, courage, an' justice." He sighs, looking around, "That help?"

Shateishael mutters under his breath, "Catholics are creepy..."

Shateishael lays the photo of the music page down so Rosie can see it, careful to not accidentally show any more of the photos to the Mercurian.

Devorael says, "So.. there's no exact pattern to these."

Rosenstern closes his eyes. "I was Catholic for at least a hundred years, in the monastery. Uhm... Seven cardinal virtues, if I recall...." He blinks. "Oh, heck. Prudence, Temperance, Fortitude, Justice, Faith, Hope, Charity."

Bella blinks slightly, "Uhm... there's a lot of stuff about a big money scandal on the missionary guy... name's Dan Klein. They found him in the vault of some big bank up there. He was apparently keeping an extra account there or something..."

Shateishael says, "Well, might be there's more comin', Deva." He grins as Rosenstern echoes him. "There y'go, Rosie."

Rosenstern says, "And he was the one with the 'Charity' paper found on him?"

Shateishael darts a sharp glance at Bella, "Wait. Th' guy with th' money issues has Charity written by him. Th' homophobe has Faith. So... am I right in thinkin' maybe th' Seneschal's done wrong by someone else?"

Bella shakes her head to Rosie, "Not a paper, no. They spray-painted it across the door to the vault."

Rosenstern says, "... Well, I guess they weren't trying to be subtle then.""

Rosenstern says, "What was, er... I know I'm going to regret this, but... what was the, er, nature of the 'Justice' defacement?" He visibly braces himself for the answer."

Devorael lets Slate say. It's not about to.

Bella shrugs, "I don't know... there's a lot here."

Shateishael rumbles quietly, "Th' seneschal was shot, dragged, an' hung... in front of a scarecrow with th' head of a pig, seated in th' judge's seat."

Shateishael says, "Justice was written in bullet holes under th' judge's seat."

Shateishael nods to Bella, then settles down and starts reading, giving Rosenstern time to recover.

Rosenstern winces, grimacing. "Gott en Himmel," he says softly.

The papers, when they're sorted out, amount to two very large piles on the Charity and Faith murders and one small one on with information on

Zeke's partner's murder."

Rosenstern scribbles down the notes, though with a shaky hand. "What... ah... what was Zeke's partner’s Role?" he asks queasily.

Shuffling through the Tether murder, Bella wrinkles her brow, "Seems like the front was that the two of them were serious buffs on Old West history and ran the museum out of a private fund."

Shateishael says, "Th' dead Elohite was th' Judge of th' Tether."

Shateishael says, "Th' other one was th' Guardian."

Shateishael concentrates on Zeke's partner, guessing someone was upset with a non-Roman Catholic judgment. He scans for anything notable adjudicated in the last 5 or so years.

Shateishael finds himself curiously torn. He has little to no respect for Justice's usual high-handed behavior... but to hear a possibly non-catholic, maybe non-Christian Justice servitor was murdered makes him want... justice.

In with the paperwork are several CD-ROMS with dates written across them in Sharpie. They turn out to be lists of Judgments passed over the last five years. Zeke apparently had a similar train of thought. The Tether seems to have carried out most of the Corporeal Judgments for the North American continent. They range everywhere from imposition of Discord to corporal punishment to execution. The offenses are as small as "insubordination" and as large as "Desecration of sacred space."

Rosenstern looks at the notes. "So... someone is doing a serial murder series, targeting certain people. They know enough dirty little secrets about each to make the punishment fit the crime. For the missionary, it's being killed in his vault. The imprecation is 'Charity.' The homophobic priest was killed to be an example of 'Faith.' And this old-west historian was --" He breaks off. "I think... I think... erm. The killer might know a lot about his targets. Enough that, maybe, he found out that Zeke's partner was a Judge of a Tether, and that he felt the need to use myrrh to keep the Judge there while he... while he did all this t-to him. And learned enough about the missionary to find out about that second bank account." He pauses. "Why the priest, though, and why 'Faith' for him...."

Shateishael takes them to the computer and starts searching for any judgment where a Roman Catholic 'lost' -- especially to a non-Catholic.

Shateishael looks up at Rosenstern, "What's that about usin' myrrh t' keep someone somewhere?"

Rosenstern says, "There was something about using Myrrh to summon and hold celestials. I don't know much about it, I've never run into any mortals who could summon Celestials or Infernals. And it might have been just a myth, but of the killer believed he needed it, that would explain why it was there...."

Devorael says, "There are mortals who can summon Infernals. Or there were once."

Shateishael blinks suddenly, and starts searching for 'desecration of a sacred space' where the space involved wasn't of typically Catholic sacrality.

Shateishael nods to Rosie and Deva's comments, "Okay. Check th' dates of th' murders against astrological configurations, then."

The Judgments handed down at the Tether tended to be slightly harsh for the crimes committed. And in some cases, they were downright draconian. There are some notes in the margin in a nearly illegible scrawl about discussing rulings with someone named "Virgil." The Judge of the Tether was apparently quite strict in enforcing whatever set of rules he was using to decide the cases brought before him.

There's a lot of information on desecrated sacred spaces. Everything from the spray painting of Nazi graffiti on a Unitarian Church to the bombing of a Synagogue in a small town in Germany. There are some articles about defacement of standing stones.

Shateishael rumbles quietly, "Rosie, make a note -- we need t' find out who 'Virgil' was from Zeke."

Shateishael nods in satisfaction to himself, and examines the desecration of the standing stones in particular. That's a pagan thing... so who did the desecrations, and what happened to them?

Rosenstern nods to Deva, biting his lip. "Hopefully none anymore," he says quietly, then nods to Slate and makes a note of astrological configurations, just in case, and one more note about this 'Virgil.' "Wasn't he Dante's guide through that one's travels through Hell and Purgatory?"

Bella is still sitting at the table, leafing through reports and photos. When Deva comments about raising Infernals, "They're still around. Some of them are some creepy motherfuckers, too."

Shateishael rumbles laconically to Rosie, "Ayup. Might be th' name a' one a' Zeke's higher-ups too, though."

Shateishael adds in explanation, "'Pears this guy was a real hard-ass judge... couple a' th' judgments discuss rulings with someone named Virgil."

Devorael has hair and feathers fluffed... almost on end.

The desecration of the standing stones was written off as local youth pranks. Some of the stones had been pushed over and broken with a sledge. Two of them had had ancient inscriptions chiseled off.

Shateishael frowns puzzledly. Who was judged, then?

The Judgment on the stones wasn't handed down on the boys who defaced them, but on the guardian of them, a Servitor of David. The stones had been declared a sacred space by Slate's Superior. The Servitor was given the Blind Discord to carry for fifty years for failing to protect it.

Shateishael scowls at the Judgment -- shouldn't David be the judge of his own servitors?! -but continues reading.

Shateishael continues searching for at least one judgment where a Roman Catholic got the short end of the metaphorical stick.

The Judgment had been backed up by David, though he had softened it by shortening the duration to a mere decade.

Shateishael nods quietly. There's a reason he places his faith in Stone, not Justice.

One particular Judgment of that type stands out. A Catholic priest who believed he had been given a Vision committed arson. The man had burned down an AIDS hospice. His punishment had been hanging after being branded with the word "PRIDE."

Shateishael's eyes widen -- then he barks, "Got it! Listen, folks..." He describes the judgment in question, then looks up, "Sound like what's goin' on now, don't it?"

Bella blinks and tips her head, "It does sound a bit similar."

Shateishael says, "Lemme see if there's more data, like time an' place."

Rosenstern gives a start. "That... that's very similar... oh, man...." he winces. Why brand someone if you're going to hang them? "Who was the person who was... punished? A Servitor, or a Soldier, or what...?"

Shateishael adds absently to Rosie, "Dude, I think Virgil's th' dead angel."

Shateishael looks up at Rosie's question, then looks back at the computer screen, "Okay, I'll search for that too."

Shateishael adds absently, "'m guessin' a servitor... otherwise they'd just be dead."

Further digging finds that the hospice had been staffed by an order of nuns committed to serving AIDS patients. Three of the sisters had been in the building when the fire took it. They were Soldiers of Eli in service to Novalis. The Order of the Sacred Rose. The priest was neither Servitor nor Soldier, but a normal priest who had taken it upon himself to "cleanse a rot upon Mother Church" in his own words during the trial.

Shateishael rumbles in quiet horror, "Bright Star..." He relates the information to the others in a flat, emotionless voice.

Shateishael adds puzzledly, "Now how did angels... ah. Bet they were makin' sure th' others got out, an' got caught in th' flames."

Bella scowls, rubbing her palms on the thighs of her jeans, "They weren't angels. Those guys are human Soldiers. Me and Ian made up some decorations for their branch of the hospice up home."

Shateishael bows his head a moment for a short, silent prayer for the courageous dead, then nods quietly to Bella, "'m sorry, sweetheart."

Bella shakes her head slightly, "Nothing to be sorry for, honey. Just... I don't think Eli would be all keen on killing someone to punish them. Death and taking things apart isn't really his bag."

Shateishael takes a slow breath, then nods to Bella, "Seems a bit extreme t' me too... but nobody's askin' my opinion." He adds quietly, "This happened over two years ago, but it doesn't say where."

Shateishael says, "Oh, wait -- northern California."

Shateishael sits back in the chair, frowning, "Santa Rosa, in fact. Okay... so what's th' connection b'tween these three murders, aside from alla them bein' 'gainst folks that aren't Roman Catholic?"

More slowly he adds, "An'... how can we predict th' next one?"

Rosenstern says, "I mean, the person punished in that incident, the priest who committed arson.... Ah...." He winces again, as if feeling a hand clench around his Heart, when he hears Slate relate the details. He is so, so torn: he can feel the faintest of ghosts of Dissonance stirring deep within, not nearly close to the surface, but still there like a malignant temptation, when he finds himself thinking that hanging was too good for the priest. He takes a few breaths, trying to calm himself. Delusional... delusional and mad... that's all he was. Think, Rosie, just think. Do not crave the death of the sinner. Love the sinner, hate the sin, and struggle and strive to bring the sinner back into the garden.

But... oh, Mutter, oh, Adonai... it's so hard....

Rosenstern rouses himself from his fugue, and focuses on the notes, swallowing the lump in his throat. "Revenge," he says softly in answer to Slate. "Revenge for perceived wrongs. Miserliness on the part of a missionary, hate from a priest who should be preaching love, severity from a judge who should be balancing severity with mercy." And should he have shown mercy to that priest who burned down the hospice? Scheisse! My heart and mind say 'yes,' but what kind of mercy do you show such a one?

Shateishael nods quietly to Rosenstern, "Well put, Rosebud."

With a worried look, Bella pushes herself up and walks over to Rosie, crouching in front of him and looking into his face, "You OK, Rosie? Looking a little shell-shocked there, sugar."

Shateishael looks up, checking to see if he's needed.

Rosenstern looks like a Calabim used him as a washcloth. he can't even bring himself to make a joke about snow-globes that he would say in the past when Slate has called him 'Rosebud.' "But it has to be more than that, though, surely? A motive isn't... isn't enough to do all this. Who are they, why are they doing this... why...." He runs a hand over his face, and makes a quiet sound. "I.. I'm okay. Just... I don't know how mortals who have only half a dozen decades deal with this sort of thing. And I've had three-bloody-hundred." He takes in a slow breath. "I'll be okay, honest.... Thanks...."

Shateishael rises and makes a fresh cup of tea, then sets it down next to Rosenstern, and gets out of Bella's way.

Bella studies Rosie's face, "I think we need to take a break from the horror fest here for a little while..." she says over her shoulder to Slate.

Shateishael nods, "Got it, sweetheart." He tilts his head at Rosie and smiles slightly, "Why don'tcha take a walk with Bella? She's good for th' soul."

Rosenstern says, "Er... three hundred years. Not decades." He shakes his head, looking a more normal. He blinks at the tea, and smiles wanly to Slate. "Thanks, Thor," he says gently, then shakes his head to Bella. "No... no, it's okay, I'll be fine. I just need to get used to seeing this sort of thing again. Last time I saw a body like... like that was in the first world war.""

Shateishael chuckles, a low gravely sound, and rumbles, "Nah, it's Guenther, don'tcha remember? Thor was a redhead."

Rosenstern chuckles softly. "That's what I was calling you in my mind the first time I laid eyes on you."

Nodding, Bella moves to sit as near Rosie as she can without actually touching him, "It's not pretty. It's a little weird... like some kind of stupid movie."

Shateishael laughs, tossing his head back, then grins at Rosenstern, his blue eyes dancing, "Well now... guess you're more perceptive than y' realized, Rosie-boy!"

Shateishael nods more quietly to Bella, "Revenge is... pain. Not rationality."

Bella hugs herself and shakes her head, "I got enough taste of that sort of thing back when I was a wee thing."

Shateishael tilts his head... then rises and sits next to Bella, "Both a' y'all are startin' t' worry me. Y'all wanna hug?"

Rosenstern opens his mouth to say something, then closes it and smiles to Slate. "Sorry if we're getting you down, Slate... but I'd not be one to turn down hugs."

Bella chuckles and leans against Slate, "I'll be OK, sugar. But I'm with Rosie..." She gets up and moves to put Slate between herself and the Novalite, "I've just got a nasty feeling about this."

Shateishael smiles at Bella, then nods to Rosenstern, shifting around so he can wrap his arms around the little Mercurian in a strong, warm hug. He hugs like someone who understands how reassuring touch is, and who is completely unstinting in sharing when it's needed.

Shateishael gently strokes Rosie's hair, murmuring softly, "S'okay, pretty Rosie... nothin' bad's gonna happen to ya."

Rosenstern makes a quiet sound, nodding faintly as he leans into the hug, nestling into it. "Same here. It's... well. Not good. I have a feeling we're not going to like where this is going to take us."

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

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