Magik Beans: Book 2, "Spring"

2-17: Guardian of the Horde

2010-04-10T10:00:00.003-06:00

An array of rings was spread out before Blackout on the floor of Dragon's cavern. He'd begun with a pile Dragon had dumped in front of him, narrowing his choices until he was left with twelve rings.

"You should probably get rid of this one too," Dragon suggested, pointing at a band with a sheen of silver unlike any Blackout had ever seen before.

He picked it up and held it between thumb and forefinger. "Why? I thought that one might end up being a keeper."

"Too big for her fingers, and made of mythril," Dragon said. "We'd have a tough time getting it sized properly."

"Mithril?" Blackout blurted the word out. "Like the nearly indestructible true steel of Middle-earth?"

Dragon stared at Blackout blankly. "You do know that's just a book, don't you?"

Blackout worked his jaw a moment, trying to find the words for a response. "So the Star Wars galaxy is real, but Middle-earth isn't? Seems a bit odd, given that I've never seen any Jedi, but here you are, looking all Smaug-like."

"Tolkien wasn't the first human to write about Dragons," Dragon said sulkily. "And I'm a little hurt at that Smaug comment. I've never torched an entire village over a petty theft."

Blackout gestured to the piles of treasure heaped about the cavern. "But you do have a horde," he said. "I mean, I don't want to sound ungrateful, but I do feel a bit uncomfortable giving Lara a ring that was likely..."

Dragon raised a red-scaled eyebrow expectantly. "Likely what?"

"Well," Blackout said hesitantly. "Where did you get all this treasure?"

Dragon threw her foreclaws up in exasperation. "This is so typical!" She gave Blackout a wounded glare. "I know humans in the West of your world have a a problem with dragons, but I would have expected better from you."

Blackout gaped at Dragon. Dragon folded her foreclaws and angled his head up and away from Blackout.

"Oh come on," Blackout pleaded. "You can't be mad at me for assuming you killed someone to get all this." He gestured to the sparkling gems and metal strewn about.

Dragon gasped. "You thought I killed someone to get all this?"

"Hey, like you said, Dragons aren't exactly noble creatures in Western literature," Blackout said. He blew out a frustrated sigh. "Well then, if all this treasure wasn't stolen, then where did it come from?"

"Didn't you ever read Beowulf?" Dragon asked. "The Dragon's lair was a king's burial chamber, filled with treasure. Now it's fair to say that particular beast was a prime bitch about the theft of the cup..."

"Like Smaug."

Dragon nodded. "But it is her story our parents tell is when we're young, to instruct us in the way we should go. When she first finds the hoard, it is an ancient barrow, a King's grave. The treasure was already there, hidden in the earth, until she came along to claim it as her bed. At that point, the poet only calls her 'the keeper of the hoard,' the 'guardian of the mound,' and the 'hoard-watcher.' That is the way of my kind. We guard hoards. If we find a large, unmanaged treasure trove, we believe it ha been placed there for us to keep watch over. In this way, we keep it from falling into the wrong hands. The dragon in Beowulf does not earn the title of 'vile sky-winger' until after she engaged in her campaign of destruction."

Dragon stopped for a moment, gathering her thoughts.

"So you're just supposed to let people steal from your hoard? How are you a guardian if you do that?"

Dragon shook her head. "Her reaction was just. It was the severity of her reaction we believe to have been wrong. Hers is a cautionary tale for dragons."

"But you're giving a ring to me..." Blackout said hesitantly.

Dragon smiled. "After both the king and the dragon perished in the tale of Beowulf, there was a covenant established between us and the humans. And so the hoard watchers learned the art of being ring-givers."
Dragon picked out a ring of woven bands of yellow and white gold. Hung on the tip of her claw, she extended it to Blackout. "This is the one," she said.

Blackout took it from her claw and nodded. "It certainly is," he said laughing a little.

After all, it was the one he'd seen on Dragon's hand when she'd appeared as Lara.

"You spoke of the dragon in Beowulf as though you knew her," Blackout said as they exited the cave, to stand once again on the top of a majestic fjord. The smell of sea salt permeated the air.

"I never knew her personally," Dragon said. "But I inherited her hoard from my mother, down through the generations. I am the great, great granddaughter of that 'vile sky winger'."

Episode 17: Ring of Secrecy

2009-08-06T07:00:00.001-06:00

In the brief seconds Dragon had taken on Lara's naked form, Blackout had an epiphany. None should be surprised that in assuming the shape of a North American straight male's desire, the manifestation was a naked woman. The likelihood Dragon would have transformed into anything else is only slightly better than the odds of successfully navigating an asteroid field. Despite it not having been the first time he had seen Lara in the nude, Blackout had found himself staring, but not in the way one might assume. His exclamation of "whoops" was not so much an expression of apology as it was a hastily uttered prayer, hoping desperately that Lara was looking anywhere but where his own eyes had fallen, upon her left hand, ring finger, adorned by a gold diamond ring.

It was, incidentally, also why Andrew had stated, "That was unexpected," with utter calm. In an attempt to look anywhere but where twenty some years of male instinct were screaming at him to look, Andrew's eyes had traveled in the sign of the cross, finally settling upon Lara's left hand.

Which is how it came to be that Blackout, Andrew, and Dragon (in the shape of a Dwarven brewmaster, a response to Lara's desire to begin serving quality micro-brewed beer which meant that Dragon looked like a short version of Billy Gibbons of ZZ Top in a green apron), were sitting in Magik Beans the next morning, discussing the appearance of the ring in conspiratorial tones, despite the fact that Lara wasn't scheduled to work until after noon.

"I mean, I've been thinking about it for a while, but I...hadn't gone shopping for a ring or anything. I wanted to have the right moment, you know?" Blackout bobbed his head up and down, drumming nervously on the table.

"Sure," Andrew said. He was completely out of his element, having only just come to an awareness of being interested in Silke. "I'd do the exact same thing man."

"Dragons don't marry," Dragon said. "We can reproduce without sex, so there's no need for a single mate."

"So I take it you're not terribly impressed by virgin births?" Andrew said.

"What?" Dragon looked at him blankly.

"I'm not really helping much, am I?" Andrew said, looking at Blackout.

"I just wanted to make sure you both understood that this must remain an absolute secret for the time being," Blackout whispered. "If she finds out, it just won't be the same. Ever since the idea came into my head, I knew I wanted to pick out the ring myself, to do the whole going-down-on-one-knee thing...maybe even have some cool suit for the occasion."

"Like a suit of armor?" Dragon asked.

"I was thinking more along the lines of a tuxedo," Blackout said, "But I suppose a suit of armor would be pretty cool."

"She'd definitely dig it," Andrew said. "That whole medieval metal thing she's into and all."

Blackout nodded. "So we're clear? Tell no one."

"My lips are sealed," Andrew said.

"I swear that if I tell, you may run me through with a magic dragonslaying sword which I will provide you with, then eat my heart, becoming omnipotent for a brief period so that you could turn back time far enough to stop me from blurting out your secret." Dragon smiled.

"Okay, that was excessive, but very cool," Blackout said. "Is that really possible? If I ate your heart, I'd be omnipotent for a brief period of time?"

"Absolutely," Dragon said.

"Well, if you could do that, why wouldn't you just have a guy with this Dragonslaying sword around to cut out your heart everytime you did something stupid so that you could go back in time and change things?" Blackout asked.

"Because it's an abuse of the immutable laws of time and space, right?" Andrew said.

Dragon nodded. "How did you know?"

"I'm taking a class on it right now," Andrew said, looking at his watch. "Speaking of which, I'm going to be late if I don't get going right now." He picked up his coffee. "Your secret is safe with me...and for whatever it's worth, I'm really, really happy for you two. She's a lot happier than when I first met her, and I think you're responsible for a lot of that happiness." He nodded at Blackout and Dragon and headed out the door.

"So as I understand your customs," Dragon said, "You need a ring."

"That's right," Blackout said. "Something really special."

"I think I can help you with that," Dragon said. "Meet me back here when my shift ends. We have some traveling to do."

Episode 16: Under a Spell

2009-08-03T01:30:00.002-06:00

"Dragon's little performance certainly put you in the mood," Lara whispered into Blackout's ear. She pressed up against him. "Can you pull the sheets up?"

"You want the sheets on?" Blackout shook his head a little and smiled, but pulled the covers up over their bodies. "My temperature is way up."

"It certainly is," Laura said with a purr. She paused a moment, looking into his eyes. "Thank you," she said finally.

"For what?" Blackout asked, turning onto his side.

"For loving me," she said.

"That's easy," Blackout said, smiling.

"I'm not sure that's true," Lara said, "but thank you for saying so."

"No, it's always been easy," Blackout said. "Ever since I met you."

"Love at first sight?"

"Sure. You put me under a spell, or something like that."

Lara stopped, her brow slightly furrowed. "I used to want love to be like a spell. Like a potion. I wanted to be swept away. I wanted to have Cupid's arrow hit me and I'd be lost. But I've been lost...not in love, but in..." She stopped, and tears formed around the edges of her eyes.

"I didn't mean anything by it," Blackout began. "I was just trying to be fun."

"I know," Lara said, her voice slightly broken, wiping away the first tear as it trailed down her cheek, forcing the next back along the side of her eye where they flowed onto her the back of her hand. "Shit. I'm sorry."

"No, I'm the one who should be saying sorry," Blackout said, running his hand along the side of her face, catching a teardrop which seemed to have waited to fall, seeking to connect them in a way their conversation could not.

"How could you have known?" Lara said. She hadn't even known until he'd said it. Something about the confluence of potion along with lost, and the hazy memories of drinking to drown remembrance flowed in, washing over her and through her to become tears. "I don't ever want to feel lost like that again," she said. "I want to choose what I do. I want to be aware, to make every decision deliberately."

They sat in silence for a moment.

"I choose to love you," she said to him. "And I never want you to feel like you are under a spell, under some influence compelling you to love me. I need to know you make those decisions too. That you love me in spite of, or perhaps because, of how fucked up I am."

Blackout nodded. "Is that why you've never read our cards?"

Lara shook her head. "I don't believe in Fate," Lara said. "Not in the sense most people understand it. The Fates themselves don't believe in that sort of manifest destiny. If the existence of the Tree has taught me anything, it's that there are too many possibilities, too many worlds, for there to be one perfect person, chosen for me by the gods or Fate or the cards...whatever. We ultimately choose to love someone, hunker down into a relationship, and fight to make it work, every fucking day, to make it work. To make it work." She said those last words in a fierce whisper, her eyes blazing.

Episode 15: Dragon Blend

2009-06-05T14:02:00.004-06:00

"As in, the Greek god Apollo, or the guy off Battlestar Galactica?" Blackout asked.

Andrew shot him a look, seemingly pleading Blackout to take matters seriously. "The guy off Battlestar Galactica? A completely fictional character?"

"The Dragon worked on Bespin," Blackout retorted. "As in Cloud frakking City. From. Star. Wars. Fictional enough for you?"

Andrew looked over at the red dragon working behind the coffee bar, then looked at Lara for confirmation. She shrugged and nodded apologetically. "That's what it says on her resume," she said. "And it's just Dragon. That's what she goes by."

"Doesn't that get confusing?" Blackout asked.

"Apparently Draconian is a telepathic language, and humans generally suck at telepathy, so she thought Dragon would be simpler than her proper name, which translates into a word which means 'the light which pushes through the vale of tears'."

"Sounds like the title of an emo song," Andrew said.

"But happier," Blackout added, Andrew nodding assent.

"Telepathy? So can they read human thoughts?" Andrew asked.

Laura smiled and nodded, "Sort of. They read our desires. And because they're shapeshifters, they can respond to that in the shape of said desire."

"So she could turn into a cappucino?" Andrew said.

"No, she'd turn into a woman holding a cappucino. Or a man. Or whatever you were desiring," Lara said.

"How very disturbing," Andrew said. "I can't say I'm exactly thrilled to have a shape-shifter working for us, given my experiences with...you know. Is this transformation going to happen arbitrarily, or is it controllable?"

"Controllable," Lara said.

"What's controllable?" asked Dragon, coming over with coffee for the three humans seated at the table.

"Your ability to shape-shift," Lara replied.

While she was small for her race, Dragon was easily ten feet tall, sitting back on her haunches, to say nothing of the length of her long tail, or the span of her wings, currently folded behind her. Her red scales gleamed beneath the glow of the halogen lights. Andrew looked back at the tables and chairs Dragon had absently shoved aside making her way to serve them.

"Is it an illusion," Andrew asked, "Or do you actually change shape?"

"I actually change shape," Dragon replied.

"And you can become anything?"

"Anyone," Dragon said. "We can't become a plant, or a rock, or a television set. And our transformations are based upon a person's desires. We can't imagine someone and become them. We have to draw upon a person's desire, and become that."

"Seems rather limiting," Andrew observed.

"It's actually rather handy," Dragon replied. "Especially when you're at the mercy of some sword-wielding hero. Nothing better than being able to run behind a tree and become the maiden he thinks he's rescuing."

"Until he discovers the actual maiden, I suppose," Lara suggested.

"She's usually quite eaten by the time the hero shows up," Dragon said in a matter-of-fact way. "Not to my tastes--I'm strictly a domestic diner--none of that haute cuisine for me. I prefer my food to not approach my level of intelligence."

"Well," said Lara, in a flushed voice, "that's a relief to know."

"I want a demonstration," Andrew said. "Read one of us and change shape."

"Who should I read?" Dragon asked.

"Read Blackout," Andrew suggested.

"Where's the fun in that?" Blackout said. "I guarantee, you're going to get a copy of Lara. No surprise there."

"I'm not interested in surprises," Andrew said. "I just want to see it happen. If Dragon's going to work here, it would help if she weren't so big--bull in a china shop, that sort of thing."

"Very well," Dragon said, then fixed her gaze firmly upon Blackout. One moment, she was a huge, red-scaled creature of myth. The next, she was a perfect replica of Lara.

Naked.

"That was unexpected," said Andrew.

"Ohmigod!" Lara squealed.

"Whoops," was all Blackout could say.

Episode 14: Elements of Eden

2009-05-22T12:00:00.002-06:00

The longing for Eden burns within the heart of all sentient beings. Haunted by perfection, we seek the greener grass, the ultimate experience, the perfect love. Occasionally, a place retains Elysian elements, and becomes a shrine, a temple, or in more recent years, the location of an all-inclusive resort. Our relationships also occasion such glimpses, and become our dearest friends. We miss them when they are away, but are able to effortlessly resume wherever we left off without awkward small talk or social crutches. When an experience retains elements of Eden, we find ourselves laughing for no reason, grinning like idiots, crying uncontrollably, passionately aroused to social justice or the heights of ecstasy. We savor the food we eat, langourously tasting the wine in our mouth, we notice small details on the object of our affection which only increase our attraction, and we pray to the powers to slow time. If we are wise, we take a moment to breathe in such moments, and focus all our attention on creating a mental snapshot, vainly hoping that the phosphorous we carry in our brain today will pass the moment clearly along to the phosphorous which will be in our brain tomorrow. Like wine, the memory will age well, and we will remember it when we catch a certain scent or see a vista that evokes the original moment.

The banquet held all these elements of Eden. The Hotel MacDonald, overlooking the Edmonton river valley, was pristinely predisposed towards perspectives of paradise. It was why the original builders had chosen its location, though they would not have known that. When Andrew and Silke went to grab a breath of air on the stone balcony, they sensed the absence of the Garden in the presence of the tableau before them, the sun's setting colors reflecting off the waters of the North Saskatchewan River, playing fiery highlights off the dark greens of the trees with their Spring growth filling in the spaces between their branches. They experienced it in each other, having found another to delight in, not to simply reflect back adoration, but someone who could help the other cease to be simply individual, and start becoming a unity. It began, as it always did, with the surface of things; it was too soon for deep to call to deep, and so the way her hair caught the light of the sunset, or how her eyes sparkled when she laughed. The supple tone of her arms. The thrill of brushing up against her.

But the night itself would have held an element of Eden even if they had not been lost in each other. The conversations held between beings from other spaces, and other times. The surreality of standing with Borges, the elder treating the younger not as student but colleague, questions and answers traded equally, and Andrew suddenly finding himself taking issue with something Borges had put forward. An eyebrow arching above the blind eye, and the old man smiling wryly. Andrew graciously thanking him for such animated debate, and stepping away with Silke. Spotting Jack across the room, and realizing again who the older man was.

"I can't believe it took me so long to realize who you three were," Andrew said.

Jack chuckled. "You actually mentioned something I wrote from The Magician's Nephew when we were having a teaching time, and I really had to bite my tongue to keep from saying something."

"Why didn't you?"

"Because it would have changed everything too soon," Jack replied. "If you'd thought of me as 'C.S. Lewis' the great writer, you couldn't have thought of me as Jack, a friend who had done what you are doing once upon a time."

Andrew nodded. "I have an odd question to ask then."

"On the balcony outside," Jack said. "If you're going to be asking odd questions, I'd like to have a cigarette in hand: in the eventuality I have any hard thinking to do."

As they turned to head towards the balcony, there was an explosion of light and sound which invaded their senses. Andrew felt overwhelmed by it, like being at a concert in front of the speakers and being blinded by the glare of lights all at once. And as his mind processed the experience, he was aware of a certain musical quality to the explosion, underneath the riot of color and noise.

Spots still in his eyes, Andrew tried to look about the room to determine the source of the commotion. As his gaze fell upon a figure dressed all in white, standing at the entrance to the hall, he heard Jack swear, and whisper a name under his breath.

"Apollo."

The reason(s) for the delay

2008-09-13T09:46:00.002-06:00

My apologies to the fans of Magik Beans for the long hiatus. In the middle of a fairly relaxing summer working at Service Alberta, I was contacted about teaching appointments for this fall. I'm teaching two sections of English at MacEwan College, and one at The King's University College, which is one class short of the light side of a full time sessional teaching load, six being the maximum before you're sent to Arkham. I am also doing my coursework for my PhD in Comparative Literature at the University of Alberta, so I am, as always, very busy.

I wrote the main of Magik Beans book one in my thesis year while I was enjoying the benefits of a scholarship which freed me from the need for gainful employment. So I had an extra hour or two here or there to write. As it currently stands, I'll be lucky if I write an entire episode in a month.

But I am still writing. And making lots of notes while I'm in class! But weekly will be unlikely. Please don't give up on checking in. I'll do my best to make it worth your while.

Cheers,

Mike

Episode 13: Charming

2008-07-03T12:12:00.004-06:00

Andrew had heard the saying "the clothes make the man," but had always discounted it as the sort of thing only Alpha Males who needed to wear power suits for executive meetings in downtown skyscrapers in major metropolitan centers believed in. It seemed elitist to him, but standing in the lobby of the Hotel MacDonald, he suddenly understood it.

He'd been to a brunch at the MacDonald once, arriving in dress casual, and feeling like he didn't belong amidst the opulence of marble columns and old world architecture. The way the staff had treated him had felt conspicuous; he wasn't a "sir" and when the server unfolded his cloth napkin to place it in his lap, Andrew had nearly jumped out of his skin. Being treated like he was some rich bigwig by other people in the service industry, the very industry he worked in, felt altogether wrong.

Standing in the lobby in his new clothes--he laughed to himself, thinking of clothes bought over a hundred years ago as being "new"--was a different matter altogether. He stood, in a wool frock coat over top of a copper basin vest across which ran the chain of a gold filigreed pocket watch. The highland pants with the black Y-bracers felt a little odd, but the ensemble, topped by a black silk puff tie made him feel as though he belonged there, standing underneath the opulent chandelier lighting the lobby. His gaze fell from the crystal extravagance overhead to the stairs beneath it, whereupon all thoughts of the opulence of the chandelier fled his mind.

Silke descended, her blonde hair cascading in thick curls, falling to cover her scar without hiding her face. She wore a wine-red corsetted dress of velvet and silk, with a plunging neckline that made Andrew muse that the silk puff tie was far too tight. She had a black chiffon wrap hanging loosely around her shoulders, which fell as she waved to him. Her bared shoulders and arms made the room's temperature rise once again. He could tell his ears were as red as her dress. He cleared his throat, and held out his arm to her as she finished her descent.

"You look remarkable," he said, his voice too thick, his words too much a mumble.

"And you," she said with her perpetually confident smile, "seem to have gone from a Sleeping Beauty to a Prince Charming."

Once again, the clothing suddenly made the man, and Andrew replied, "Well, I can only hope that you don't run off at the stroke of midnight."

Silke inclined her head appraisingly. "I don't think I shall," she said finally. She took his proferred arm, and they turned to enter the ballroom.

Episode 12: Late for the Ball

2008-06-25T12:18:00.006-06:00

That evening the Spring Symposium of Ontological Overseers gathered together for a dinner held at the Hotel MacDonald. After recovering from his fainting episode, Andrew had gone home to change into formal wear. Upon opening his closet and throwing a pair of pants, a sport coat and a dress shirt onto the bed, he was about to undress when Saphyr abruptly told him to stop.

"You're not actually considering going to the dinner tonight in that, are you?" the Macbook asked him.

"It's a suit coat..." Andrew protested.

"Bought at Le Chateau for your graduation I'm sure," Saphyr replied.

"Stitches," Andrew replied sheepishly. "I don't have a lot of occasions to be wearing a suit you know."

"It is not the frequency with which one wears a suit which ought to determine the quality of the garment," Saphyr advised. "I've been watching your interactions with that charming young lady all day, and it is clear to me that if you wish to accelerate the nature of your relationship you need to consider dressing in the way you want her to see you."

"We don't have a lot of time here Saphyr. The dinner's in another hour. I don't think this is the best time to be off suit shopping."

"All that talk about time earlier today," Saphyr said, "And you think you don't have any? Might I suggest a trip along the Tree? Perhaps backwards along our current branch to say...the Victorian period?"

"Victorian? How are we going to pay for that? I don't think they'll take debit."

"I'll draft a bank note that ought to do the trick, and run it off your printer," Saphyr said.

"I guess there's no point in me arguing then," Andrew said.

"None whatsoever," the Macbook replied.

Ten minutes later, Andrew hurried through the entrance of Magik Beans, rushing into the shop with Saphyr tucked under his arm, and the couterfeit bank note folded in his pocket.

"Andrew!" Lara shouted from behind the till. "I didn't think we'd see you today!"

"No time to talk!" Andrew called back. "I'm late for the ball!" He flashed her an enigmatic smile, waggled his eyebrows, and quickly climbed the ladder up into the Tree. "Which branch?" he asked Saphyr.

"First one on your left," Saphyr replied.

Andrew ducked his head, and walked along the thick limb, into what should have been the wall of the shop, but pulling back the thick foliage revealed that the branch ran on, like a pathway through a darkened forest. Once Andrew was far enough along the path that he could no longer see the light from the shop through the leaves, the sounds of customers and staff silenced, Saphyr told him to stop.

"Traveling 'up' or 'down' a branch of the Tree in terms of time is different from traveling it to other spaces," Saphyr said. "You don't travel along the branch, you travel through it. Inside it."

"How?" Andrew asked.

"Well, current physics has posited that wormholes have something to do with the possibility of time travel," Saphyr replied. "They're right about the holes, but they're considering the wrong ones."

Andrew smiled and shook his head. "You've got to be kidding me. Knotholes?"

Andrew could have sworn the Macbook found a way to grin at that moment. "Look at your feet," Saphyr said.

At Andrew's feet, there was an imperfection in the wooden path. The grain of the Tree flowed around the imperfection, acknowledging it without allowing it to impede their own path.

"Do you know how knotholes are formed?" Saphyr asked.

"Aren't they dead branches, or branches that never really grew?" Andrew asked.

"They are. They are the evidence of a possible world that never was. They are like a space within the branch which never formed into a reality. And as such, they can be traveled to other points in time along the Tree. This one," Saphyr said, "will take us to the Victorian era, and with a quick jog along the branch, we should find ourselves in London on Jermyn Street where we will attire you in the best clothing money could buy at the time."

"How do we get into the knothole...to travel through it?"

"Bend down. Good. Now run your hand counterclockwise around the knothole thrice...now take your fist and press it into the knothole...it will feel soft, like clay...keep pressing..."

The knothole began to expand, the grain of the wood around it shifting and weaving to accomodate the growth, retracting away from Andrew's fist, until it was a hole in the pathway nearly five feet across. Inside the hole, it looked like a wooden tunnel, with a faint golden glow illuminating it.

"Now drop inside before the knot closes again," Saphyr said.

And they did.

Episode 11: Time Sensitive Issues

2008-06-24T12:28:00.004-06:00

Andrew awoke to see Silke bent over him, smiling.

"Sleeping Beauty wakes," she said.

Andrew blinked, then propped himself on his elbows with a groan. "I passed out, didn't I?" he said.

Silke nodded. "And missed Borges' orientation speech," she added. "But I took notes, and Saphyr recorded it all in digital audio for you to hear later."

"I meet one of my greatest heroes and I miss his speech because I passed out," Andrew said, shaking his head.

"It's all right," Silke said. "You can just attend the talk he's giving on possible worlds. That should more than make up for it." Silke handed him a sheet labeled "Plenary Sessions, Roundtables and Workshops."

Andrew brightened. "That more than makes up for it. Workshops? I had no idea this would involve hands-on work."

"Some of the workshops involve trips along the Tree to certain places of import," Silke. "Borges' involves a trip to a place called the Library of Babel."

Andrew looked up at Silke with a very serious expression on his face. "Just when I think I've begun to understand what it means to have the Tree as a reality in my world, something new and...I can't think of any better word than 'terrible' opens up before me. Not terrible in the sense of awful...although that word works too...as awe-full...full of awe. Or Terrible in the sense of reverence. The mysterium tremendum."

"I have no idea what you're talking about with that last bit, but I think I know what you mean. It turns out that all the stories you read as a child weren't stories, and if that isn't enough, it's entirely possible that all the stories aren't just stories. That somewhere on the Tree, they're real."

"But more than that," Andrew said, grinning in agreement with everything Silke had said. "If Borges is here, that means there's some element of resurrection involved..."

"I can explain that," Silke said. "Grandmother told me about it in regards to John, Jack and Charles visiting with you when we went to the Pole."

"You mean Tolkien, Lewis and Williams," Andrew said. The way she used the word visiting to refer to their adventure at the North Pole, one would have thought she was talking about everyday events. Although given her work with the Rotkäppchen, it effectively was everyday work for her. He nodded for her to continue.

"They aren't the dead come back to life," she told him. "They're still alive. They've simply traveled along the branch of the Tree their history takes place in to another point along the Tree."

"Time travel?" Andrew said, more a statement than a question.

"Yes, but there is one very strict rule governing that sort of travel," Silke said. "You cannot travel to a point in which you are still alive."

"But you can travel anywhere else in time?"

Silke nodded.

"But isn't it dangerous to travel into the past?" Andrew asked. "I mean, in all the science fiction books, it always ends up changing history."

"You can't change the past of a particular history," Silke said. "The past is the portion of the Tree already formed...the thick limb which other branches...other possibilities sprout from. If you were able change the past, the result would be that branch of the Tree splitting off and making a new branch with the new history you'd created. But the original branch wouldn't cease to exist. It would simply be a point of...I'm not sure the word to use here...departure?"

"Divergence maybe," Andrew suggested.

"Perhaps," Silke said.

"And what about the future? If the points of departure are new histories, then wouldn't that mean that the future isn't formed as a...branch, until we make a decision? I mean, how can you walk along a branch that isn't yet formed?"

"You're assuming it's unformed before you step into it," Silke said. "I asked the same question, and Grandmother laughed at me and said, 'You think your single decision can affect the direction of an entire branch of the Tree? There are few events that can make that happen, and they always involve many persons. The branch itself isn't formed by your decision regarding what to wear tomorrow...it is shaped by those decisions, but the new branch is the result of larger historical moments. Which is why it doesn't really matter if you travel into the past. The chances of you achieving a change cataclysmic enough to alter a particular historical timeline are very slim."

"But not impossible," Andrew said.

"And that's why the Tree has guardians," Silke replied. "To make sure the travelers moving in and out of its avatar points aren't brining a nuclear missile into the past, or a pre-industrial world, or someone else isn't bringing Dragon Flights into worlds where they never existed."
"I think my assistant manager might be doing something very much like that at this very moment," Andrew said worriedly, explaining a text he'd received from Lara earlier that day about two new hires she'd made at the shop.

"Not exactly a move for World Domination," Silke said with a wry grin. "And you aren't altering the past of your history either. You're shaping its current branch."

"But that still doesn't explain how the Inklings or Borges could travel into the future along the branch their history exists on. I mean, isn't tomorrow essentially unformed on the Tree?"
"Well, that's why I'm excited about Borges' workshop on possible worlds," Silke answered. "All I know is that the branches of tomorrow are already formed...but there are a number of possible branches for tomorrow. And our choices will take us down one of them. All John and the others have done by traveling to where we are is to choose a branch and follow it down its path."
"You mean they could choose another branch and get into another history...a parallel one that's almost identical to this one, but just slightly different?"

"The differences for history's branches are never slight," Silke said. "But I don't know how it all works. Except that I asked Grandmother what happened to branches that weren't chosen, and she wouldn't say anymore. That I wasn't ready to hear the answer."

"What do you think happens?" Andrew asked hesitantly.

"I think that any branch that isn't living...is one that withers and dies," Silke replied.

Episode 10: Disorientation

2008-06-10T07:52:00.001-06:00

The orientation was to be held in Convocation Hall in the Old Arts building, a large, open room with rows of red theater style seats. The noise of the gathering was noisier in the room than it had been in the foyer, voices echoing off the hardwood and reverberating throughout, amplified by the room's excellent acoustics.

Andrew glanced over and noted that Silke too, was speaking in low tones to a dark red notebook with gold scroll work running in curves and whorls across the cover.

"How come you got such a fancy notebook, and I just got this plain old binder?" Andrew asked.

"We match your personality," Saphyr said, a hint of hurt sarcasm in his voice.

"They can look like any type of book," Silke told Andrew. "Mine came as plain as yours, but once I discovered she could change her shape, we worked out this journal. I was worried about losing her, given that we would have all been carrying the same binder otherwise."

"How come you didn't tell me that?" Andrew asked Saphyr.

"I did," Saphyr replied. "I told you I'd been a scroll for Plato."

"But you didn't say you could change just because I'd prefer to be carrying an MacBook ," Andrew retorted, nearly dropping Sephyr when the binder's shape rapidly shifted and changed until the simple binder had become the sleek, smooth, piece of technology. "Very nice. So what are you then, exactly?"

"The easiest way for me to answer that question is to say, I'm a book."

"No, now you're a computer. A computer called a "book," but a computer nonetheless."

"You're mistaking what a book is for pages and ink," said a voice from behind Andrew.

Andrew turned to see a very aged man, with gray hair swept back across his head, and eyes unfocused, looking at nothing in particular, his hand resting on the shoulder of a slender dark-haired woman who appeared to be in her sixties. It was obvious that the man was blind, and that the woman was some sort of assistant.

"A book is much more than the shape you use to read it," the blind man said. "I should know. I never learned Braile, and I rely upon María's good graces for any of my present reading. A book is not an isolated being: it is a relationship, an axis of innumerable relationships. In truth, your computer is more a book than the books in a library, insofar as I am concerned."

"That sounds very..." Andrew stopped. He was about to use the term Borghesian, a word that had been bandied about in a course he had taken on the element of the fantastic in modern literature, to describe anything that seemed to borrow from the works of Jorge Luis Borges. But he stopped short of saying it, realizing that he wasn't hearing someone refer to Borges.

He was listening to Borges himself.

Andrew was speechless. He wanted to respond, to say something, anything at all, but he couldn't get his vocal cords, tongue, or mouth to work on his behalf. Thankfully, he was still breathing, but not in a way that would produce speech. Instead, he made a slow, somewhat vocalized high pitched exhalation of air that approximated the sound a slowly deflating balloon makes.

"That sounds very ... much like a slowly deflating balloon?" Saphyr offered sarcastically, breaking the uncomfortable-not-so-silence.

Borges had cocked his head to one side, seemingly waiting for whatever Andrew was going to say next. His assistant had furrowed her brow, her face begging an answer for a list of questions rapidly running through her mind, the top of which was whether or not this particular attendee of the symposium was using drugs. Quite suddenly, she gently tapped Borges on the arm and said, "It's time."

"You'll have excuse me," Borges apologized. "We're about to begin, and I am tasked with the honor of the opening address." His assistant turned in the direction of the stage, and Borges followed.

"That was..." Andrew started.

"Really pathetic?" Saphyr said.

"Borges. Jorge Luis Borges. But how?" Andrew had recovered the power of speech, but now the paralysis seemed to have moved to the rest of his face, which was a rictus of puzzlement.

"You've met Father Christmas, and you're shocked at meeting an historical figure?" Saphyr asked.

"But Borges is dead..." Andrew said.

"So are Tolkien, Williams and Lewis," Sephyr said. "At least, at this point on the branch your world exists on."

"What do Tolkien, Williams, and Lewis have to do with...?"

The rictus disappeared, Andrew's eyes went wide in the shock of sudden realization, and he passed out cold on the floor.

Episode 9: The First Day of School

2008-06-03T12:05:00.004-06:00

As Andrew walked up the steps to the Old Arts building, he heard a familiar female voice call his name. He turned, a smile already forming on his face to see Silke walking across the campus. Her long blonde hair hung free around her shoulders, and she was wearing capri pants, sandals, and a dark red cami. All Andrew had ever seen her wearing before was either her Rotkäppchen garb, a long cloak, high boots, leggings, and a sleeved surcoat, or clothing more suited to a medieval peasant than a university student. The contrast was striking, and it took his breath away. He'd always thought of her as beautiful, but the fact that she belonged to another world made for a convenient distance, which in Andrew's mind excused him from pursuing any sort of relationship with her.

Seeing her in modern clothing in the middle of the campus with the sun shining on that golden hair though...

"You look poleaxed!" she laughed, running up to him and catching him in a short but firm embrace.

Andrew recovered, and smiled back. "I'm sorry Silke, it just took me a moment...I hardly recognized you looking like this!"

"I thought I'd try to blend in with the locals," she said, her smile radiant. She shook her head. "It's really good to see you Andrew."

"You too," he replied quickly. "I thought you were out on patrol - more Big Bad Wolves and such."

"I was," Silke said. "But I'm going to be the guardian of the Tree when Grandmother passes away...and while that isn't likely to be any time soon, the courses at the Symposium are just as useful to the Rotkäppchen. I asked to be the one to represent us here."

"You asked?"

"Seemed a good way to get to see you," she replied, smiling again, and tucking her hair behind her left ear, exposing a huge white scar that ran from her temple to her ear. Andrew noticed the lobe was missing and averted his gaze.

"No need to be embarassed for me," she told him. "I know it's there."

"You didn't mention it in any of your letters," he said, shrugging. "It looks like it was really bad."

"That's because it happened just last week," she said. "It just looks old because Granny already healed it."

Andrew goggled. He'd seen the results of Granny's healing, as well as Lara's. It never left a scar.

"I know," Silke said, frowning slightly. "You should have seen it before the healing. Half my scalp was caved in and most of the skin..." She demonstrated the area of damage by drawing a finger across her face to her chin, "was hanging off in a huge flap." She made a face, her eyes wide with mock horror. "Not a pretty sight. But you can hardly see the scar when my hair is down." She shook her head, letting the hair fall forward again. "See?"

"I like it," Andrew said. "The hairdo I mean...not that I don't like the scar..." He stopped talking and sighed. "So...I assume you're heading inside for the orientation?" Andrew extended his arm, crooked formally, elbow out.

"Yes," Silke said, taking his arm.

They walked up the steps, just behind a giant praying mantis who held the door open for them. Andrew raised an eyebrow and glanced around the campus to see if anyone was noticing the massive insect.

"I have a spell of illusion on me," the mantis said congenially. "To those not attending the symposium I appear an overweight latino man with greying hair, dressed all in tweed."

"Be careful," Andrew said. "Someone will ask you what you're teaching."

The mantis laughed and waved them through the door.

Episode 8: Musicians Wanted

2008-05-29T12:42:00.003-06:00

Musicians Wanted for folk-medieval-metal band based in Edmonton, Alberta.

Ripper paused a moment, his fingers hovering over the keyboard, wondering if he should add what World he was referring to. How would one go about ascertaining which world they were from? Typing "Earth" obviously wouldn't do. That was only the planet he was on. As far as he understood it, the entire universe he occupied was one branch of the Tree. He shook his head. He'd have to hope the software had some means of providing the applicants with Ripper's world address.

Singer/songwriter/guitarist/bagpiper seeks other musicians to create a truly unique experience of live sound through music. Any interested parties are welcome to apply, regardless of race

He backspaced and replaced "race" with "species." Who knows what sorts of musicians were out there across the Tree?

Influences include In Extremo, Corvus Corax, Subway to Sally, Battlelore, Seven Devil Fix, Schandmaul, Leaves' Eyes, Athan Asia, Kate Bush, Richard Kean, Kemper Crabbe, Iona, and Lacuna Coil.

Would other worlds even know about any of these bands? Was there some sort of database of otherworld bands he could go to and listen, to find groups from other worlds who fit the style of Gotthammer?

He put in a contact number, the MySpace Music URL for Gotthammer, the address of Magik Beans and his name, and as an afterthought, added...homo sapien.

His finger hit enter. He closed his eyes, inhaled, and sat, waiting.

Episode 7:Maintaining a sense of Wonder

2008-05-13T15:20:00.003-06:00

"A dragon?" Blackout said, sitting down. "Are you seriously considering hiring a dragon?"

"He interviewed really well," Lara replied. "And look at his resume; it's fantastic."

Lara pushed a heavy piece of parchment, slightly burned around the edges, with a dark, calligraphic ink outlining the dragon's achievements.

"He wrote this?" Blackout asked. "I wasn't aware dragons were literate."

"You weren't aware dragons were literate?" Lara laughed. "What, did you buy a copy of 'Dragonology'?"

"No," Blackout replied petulantly. "But don't they mostly sit around on piles of treasure waiting for dwarven gangs to invade their trove so they can go on a rampaging killing spree, burning everything in their path?"

"Hype, apparently," Lara said. "Read the damn resume already."

Blackout picked up the parchment and began reading.

RESUME
Dragon, 174 years old
Good health, Non-smoker

Cheerful, gregarious fire breathing reptilian tetrapod with 20 foot wing span.
Exceptional social skills, seductively charming (magically induced).

History of Gainful Employment (highlights):
Emergency Boiler Heater, Steamship Summer Wanderer, New Amsterdam
Controlled Burn Supervisor, British Columbia
Mail Carrier, Arboria
Tour Guide and Transport, Bespin

Blackout looked up from the resume.

"Bespin?" he asked, dubious. "As in, Cloud City? As in, Lando Calrissian?"

Lara nodded. "Apparently the city isn't there any more. It's more of a tourist attraction now."

"What do you mean the city isn't there any more?"

"Well, you know, it did happen 'A long time ago,'" Lara said, grinning.

"How does that even work?" Blackout mused. "I mean, was George Lucas tapping into the reality that is the Star Wars universe, or did the universe appear after George Lucas imagined it?"

"Maybe that's the sort of thing Andrew will be learning at this conference, or whatever the hell it is."

"It's bizarre, isn't it?" Blackout said. "It's only been a year, and we're so completely at ease talking about the Tree as though it were something common."

"It is, after a fashion," Lara replied. Blackout made a face, and she waved a hand to silence him. "I don't mean it's 'common' in a demeaning way. But...it was always there before. We just never saw it. This world is just one branch on the Tree. We just didn't know. And now we do. The wonder isn't in the thing, it's in knowing it. The discovery of it. It's like meeting Dragon. I knew there were dragons out there on the Tree somewhere, but I'd never had the chance to meet one. And when Dragon came in, the wonder I felt came as a result of verifying that belief, not because he...or she...or it, was ten feet tall with beautiful green scales, or that there was smoke trailing up out of her...I'm sorry, I have to call Dragon a 'her'...you'll understand when you meet her. Anyhow...do you get what I'm driving at?"

"Sort of," Blackout said. "But I don't ever want to take all this for granted. I don't want to lose the sense of wonder I felt the day I saw the Fates heal you." He paused. "I think I worry that if I lose that sense of wonder I'll start losing you. It's like...the way I feel about you is linked to the Tree somehow."

"And how do you feel about me?" Lara asked, a coy smile playing across her lips.

"Cafe Mocha," Ripper announced, setting down the cups, and sitting down beside Blackout. "Lara, I need to know how I go about advertising something across the Tree."

"It's done through an Internet site," Lara replied, smiling at Blackout consolingly.

Ripper furrowed his brow. "That's really disappointing," he said. "I expected something like carrier gryphon or some sort of mental sending."

"They might employ carrier griffins," Lara said. "But the website is just the place where you enter the information and how limited or wide you want the ad to go."

"Does it cost anything?" Ripper asked.

"It does, but since you own the comic shop that shouldn't be a problem. The arrangement is either monetary or trade in turn. You agree to post a number of advertisements for others across the Tree, and you get yours free. The bigger the search though, the larger the reciprocation. So make sure you limit it or you'll be able to wallpaper the comic shop with the ads. Why, what are you advertising for?"

"I'm placing a musicians wanted ad," Ripper said. "What's the website?"

"www.treemail.mag." Lara said.

"Dot Mag?" Blackout asked.

"For magical websites. Most people don't know about them, and they don't show up in most searches. It's a real insider thing. But once you're in, holy shit, the sky is the limit. The magical Internet is really intense. And vast."

"Sure," Ripper said, draining the last of his coffee in a long gulp. He scribbled down the URL on a napkin and stood up. "Gotta go," he said. "I want to get started on this." He waved the paper at Lara. "Thanks for this," and to Blackout, "I'll see you later." Then he looked at both of them, looking at each other and added, "Or not."

After he'd left, Lara smiled at Blackout. "You were about to say exactly how you felt about me."

"Let's just say I highly doubt I'll be seeing Ripper later," Blackout replied with a boyish grin.

Episode 6: I'm Getting the Band Back Together

2008-05-11T22:49:00.003-06:00

Mark "Ripper" Keane gripped the guitar harder than he ever had in his life. He knew that if he applied any more pressure from any direction, he would snap the neck. Hugging the body like it was a person, he slowly ground his teeth quietly in the darkness of his room.

Sunny was gone. That was ancient history. But he hadn't quite healed up all the wounds she'd left him with before the next hit came, when his band, Gotthammer, had fallen apart. Trouble was supposed to come in threes, and Ripper was waiting for the third.

He'd been trying to make the music thing work so hard for so long. Maybe it was time to cash it all in. He wasn't getting any younger, and Edmonton wasn't exactly the best place to be launching a music career. And then there was the style of his music.

It had seemed like a good idea at the time, a way to set the band apart from all the other local acts, to incorporate the bag pipes, an instrument he'd been playing since he was a young boy. A testament to his heritage. And as gimmicks went, it'd been a good one. It had set them apart from other bands, especially given that Ripper had paired the bagpipes with overdriven guitar rock. And everything had been going well, until Gotthammer's incredibly good-looking female vocalist had gotten an opportunity to do a solo project that was more mainstream, and more pop. The record company backing the recording had said the band needed a new image to keep up with where they'd be taking her. Ripper refused to change, and got left behind. He told them they wouldn't be taking the name or the songs with them. The record company had said they wouldn't be needing either.

"We can make a career off her tits and ass," one of the suits had told Ripper. "What the hell makes you think the music industry has anything to do with songs?"

So now her first single was playing on the radio everytime you turned the damn thing on. The Edmonton stations were pushing the "local girl makes good" angle, and giving her all the support they could muster. None of the interviews said anything about Gotthammer. It was like the band had never existed.

A sliver of light penetrated the darkness of Ripper's thoughts. He looked up to see Blackout's silhouette in the doorway.

"Wanna get a coffee?" Blackout asked. "I've closed up the shop, and I wanted to go say hi to Lara, seeing as she's tied to the store while Andrew's doing those courses."

Ripper nodded silently, and relaxed his grip on the guitar, glad once again he hadn't broken it in a fit of anger.

Blackout remained quiet while Ripper put on his jacket and they descended the stairs from their apartment next to the comic shop the two of them owned together. It was their financial "fallback" in the event neither of their music careers took off. Ripper's dream was to be a rock star. Blackout's was to be a DJ. Neither had found success yet, but at least Blackout had a girlfriend. At the moment, Ripper had nothing.

Their shop was located upstairs and over from Magik Beans, which was housed in the corner of the building they all leased in, facing the street. They entered Magik Beans, and as he had come to expect, Ripper felt a sense of peace come over him as he came into the presence of the Tree. He had written some of his best songs in the shadow of those branches, sometimes actually laying back on one of them, strumming his guitar or writing lyrics.

The shop was quiet, a typical Monday night crowd. Blackout bee-lined for Lara, who was sitting at one of the tables, poring over a stack of resumes. They kissed, and Ripper looked at the floor.

"Looks like you've had a day of it," Blackout said, looking at the stack of resumes.

"Those are the rejects," Lara replied. "I've got these--" and she patted three resumes set apart from the rest, "to make my final decision with. Besides, it might not be as difficult as I'd originally thought. I can always hire more than one."

"What are your choices?" Blackout asked.

"Well, the first is a dragon," Lara said, and suddenly Ripper was paying close attention.

"Did you say dragon?" he asked.

"Yes--I put out the help wanted ads throughout the Tree."

"You can do that?"

Lara nodded. "There are quite a few courier services which provide delivery throughout the worlds. You can limit the scope of your search as much as you like."

"And you got a dragon to apply," Ripper mused.

"He was one of the least strange," Lara said. "I had a zombie in here for heaven's sake."

"I need to get a coffee," Mark said, excitement rising in his chest. "You guys want anything?"

Blackout asked Ripper to get him a cafe mocha, and Ripper walked over to the counter, where Mikey was working. Mikey looked up at Ripper through his dreadlocks.

"I don't remember the last time I saw you smiling," Mikey said. "What's up?"

"I'm getting the band back together," Ripper said.

Episode 5: Finding Good Help These Days

2008-05-08T14:46:00.003-06:00

It bothered Lara when The Lovers tried to distract her by attempting positions only artists of the Kama Sutra could represent, and only Olympic gymnasts could replicate. Matters worsened if the card’s position was reversed, giving the illusion that their sexual acrobatics were being engaged while hanging from the ceiling. To say nothing of the noises they made. The female thought it particularly amusing to talk dirty while Lara was delivering her reading.

Thankfully, the rest of the cards were rather behaved, even The Fool.

The cards seemed a necessity for the interview process. There were too many good liars in the world, and Lara was much too trusting. Her belief in the human spirit as something inherently good had been her own private hamartia, leading to that heartbreaking moment in the doorway of a hotel room over a year ago. It had been that belief in the goodness of people which had allowed her to believe in love again, to let Blackout into her heart, her body, her life.

And the cards helped her get beyond appearances. She'd flipped over the Four of Swords reversed while interviewing a robust young Adonis with golden hair. Hypochondriac, she thought, looking at the man on the card, sleeping on a stone slab with four swords poised in the air above him. Normally, it would mean he needed to take a break. Upside down, the card implied he'd be looking to take any break he could as often as he could. On the other hand, she'd flipped the Nine of Cups, a card which always meant abundance in regards to feasting for a female zombie who had nervously biting the nails of a severed hand. She'd obviously be good for business, although Lara couldn't imagine how. Perhaps the abundant feast was a reference to all the food walking in here on a daily basis seeking coffee.

The cards were helpful, but nothing replaced good old feminine intuition, a nicely formatted resume and good references.

Or, in the case of the dragon sitting across from her, the ability to heat liquid in the case of a power outage.

"It says here your name is Dragon," Lara said.

"Yes," Dragon replied. "Dragon names are unpronounceable without the ability to breathe fire, and trying to teach someone how to transliterate them never seems to go very well."

"All right Dragon," Lara said. "I'm curious to know why you're interested in the position."

"I just love coffee," Dragon replied. "And I understand I get it free while I'm working."

"So you're just a big coffee fan? Is it normal for dragons to apply for really rather mundane, boring jobs? I mean, you're a legendary creature...your species is famed for sitting on huge piles of treasure, kidnapping virgins, laying waste to countrysides..."

"Hype," Dragon replied. "And besides, don't you know that in some worlds you're the legendary species? Haven't you ever heard of the tale of Fni'kkzz the Human-slayer? It's very popular amongst cockroaches. It's all a matter of perspective. Like this job. You know how rare it is that a dragon gets work as a barista? You think I'm legendary now, but once the girls back home hear about me serving coffee..."

"Big deal, eh?" Lara asked.

"Cosmic."

Lara flipped a card over. The Moon. One of the most ambiguous cards in the Tarot. It either meant deception or illusion. Dragon's, or my own? she wondered.

Episode 4: On the way to class

2008-05-07T14:09:00.005-06:00

The Spring Symposium of Ontological Overseers began conveniently on the same day as the University's spring sessions, allowing Andrew to blend in with the handful of students trundling across the otherwise empty campus. There was a smell of moisture in the air from the previous night's rainfall, lifted into the air by the warmth of a sun in a cloudless sky. Setting out for class from Magik Beans, Andrew felt a sense of freedom.

Lara had been more than happy to assume extra duties to allow Andrew the necessary flexibility to attend the symposium. "This will finally give me a reason to hire some help that you can't argue with."

Andrew had opened his mouth to protest, but he knew Lara was right. In the past year they'd handled the work between the two of them with casual shifts from Sunny and Mikey, but Sunny had finished up her year and had signed on for a stint with Doctors Without Borders, mostly, Andrew surmised, to get away from being in the same social space as Ripper. The two of them had gotten into a heated argument when Ripper had suggested they try advancing their relationship into a more committed sort of space. Less friends with benefits and more a couple. She'd refused, and things had grown uncomfortable between them, and as a consequence, everyone around them. Mikey couldn't take on more shifts, being in his last year of high school, and so Andrew had relented. It was time to hire someone.

"How are you going to explain all this?" he asked, waving his hand at the Tree.

"I might not have to," Lara replied. "People walk in here every day and we don't bother to explain it to them."

"Working here is different. You know that."

"Besides," Lara went on, ignoring him, "who says I plan on limiting possible candidates to humans?"

"Don't tell me you're planning on advertising across the Tree!" Andrew hissed.

"I have every intention of it. Just imagine what having the brewing skills of a dwarf in here would do for business." They'd gotten a license for liquor earlier in the year and while it had all been bottled, Andrew had to concede that the beer of the dwarves from most worlds served on tap would do wonders for business.

"We're a coffee shop," Andrew replied.

"We're a cafe," Lara said. "I think it's about time we expanded our mission statement to include food. Especially since the copy shop is empty...and we have money to lease."

"I don't want to renovate," Andrew said.

"Dwarves do more than just brew beer," Lara said.

"You don't even know if you'll hire a dwarf!"

"I'm just keeping my options open."

"And we don't even have a mission statement!"

"Well maybe we should."

In the end, as he had in so many things, Andrew had relented. He needed to be hands free of Magik Beans if he was going to attend to whatever homework and studying this symposium required of him.

"Don't be nervous," his binder said to him as Andrew walked briskly across the campus.

"How do you know I'm nervous?" Andrew asked.

"Your palms are sweating all over me for one thing," the binder said. "And besides, I've done this long enough to know how first timers react to their first day at the symposium."

"How long have you been doing this?" Andrew asked.

"Long enough to have had Plato's sweaty palms on me," the binder said.

"I'm guessing you weren't a binder at the time," Andrew said.

"No, I was a scroll then."

A Philipino girl with a backpack nearly as large as her entire upper body gave Andrew an odd look. Andrew paused, took out his cell phone, flipped it open, placed it to his ear and continued walking.

"Do you have a name?" Andrew asked. "I feel kind of weird talking to a binder."

"I do," the binder replied. "Saphyr."

"You're not really a binder though, if you've been a scroll before. What exactly are you?"

"I'm here to help you," Saphyr replied. "That's all you need to know for the time being. The rest you'll learn in class."

"Why can't you just teach it all to me?"

"I couldn't do that," Saphyr said. "We just met."

Episode 3: Post Secondary Administration

2008-04-14T07:10:00.003-06:00

"I'm looking for a...Weasle?" a very proper male voice said, breaking Andrew's reverie.

"It's Weazle," Andrew corrected him, having heard the animal reference in the voice. He looked over and saw no one standing at the till.

This had happened enough in the past year that Andrew had placed a poster in the back room for staff outlining the process. First, down; the majority of supernatural beings traveling the Tree were diminutive in stature: pixies, leprechaun, dwarves, gnomes, hobgoblins...

But there was no one looking up at him when Andrew leaned out over the counter.

Next, up. This was far more rare, since any flying fairy would usually hover at eye level out of simple courtesy and the realization that, the sooner eye contact was achieved, the sooner they got their coffee. The "up" crowd at Magik Beans were hangers, attaching themselves to low lying branches of the Tree directly above the coffee bar: vampires in bat form, sloths from worlds where evolution had favored their species, and Alan, a half-bird, half-human creature which spent most of its life hanging upside down by its nearly apelike feet. Alan was terribly friendly, but he still scared the hell out of Andrew the first time he came into the shop (all the hangers were creepy as far as Andrew was concerned), and according to legend (the fairy euphemism for rumor and gossip), supposedly rescued lost children and orphans. Andrew was of the opinion that being found by Alan would be terrifying, and was glad to have never seen the thing with a child, for all the creature's gregariousness.

But when he tilted his head upward, there was nothing there either.

Finally, side to side. If there was one thing the fairy population of the universe didn't understand, it was the boundary that existed between the customer and "behind the counter." The bloody things were brilliant when it came to chalk lines drawn on the ground, or thresholds like open doorways (which every human knew you could just walk through), but couldn't get it through their oddly shaped little skulls that the customer did not belong behind the counter. They always couched their imposition with some affable excuse like "I was just tryin' ta help guv'ner," or "I have a special recipe that will ensure your customers always return."

More like never leave, Andrew mused, intoxicated in some sleep that would keep them in the shop a hundred years that would feel like a day. He looked to his right, left, and even turned himself completely around.

Nothing. Gonna have to add something for invisible beings, Andrew thought.

"I must have the wrong person," the voice said. "You don't seem bright enough to be the man I'm looking for."

"No, I'm Andrew Weazle," Andrew said, his brow furrowed in irritation. "But humans can't see invisible beings. I'm bright enough to know that. Are you?"

"I'm as bright as the content of my pages," the voice replied.

Andrew's head snapped down again. "I'll be adding more than invisible I guess," he said to himself in a low voice.

"I beg your pardon?" asked the leather covered binder which sat on the glass counter above the baked goods.

"I wasn't looking for a talking binder," Andrew said, gingerly picking the binder up and reading his name misspelled in gold script across the cover. Andrew Weasel. "Here's the problem," he said. "You have my name misspelled. It's spelled W-E-A-Z-L-E."

"That may be so," the binder replied, seemingly chagrined at its error. "It could be spelled W-E-A-Z-E-L as well."

"Yeah, I know. No one ever gets it right," Andrew lamented. "But it's definitely Z-L-E."

"Very well then," the binder replied politely, and Andrew nearly dropped it as a small puff of gold fairy dust erupted from the last three letters of the name inscription, the letters literally leaping off the page and reforming in the air before coming to rest on the cover once again before finally sinking into the leather. "So," the binder said. "I am now looking for an Andrew Weazle."

"You've found him," Andrew replied, smiling at the binder's sense of decorum. "What's all the fuss?"

"You have been cordially invited to the semi-decadal, often irregular, Spring Symposium of Ontological Overseers to be held on this campus beginning in two weeks," the binder announced.

"The...uh...what?" Andrew replied. "Sounds like some sort of conference."

"It is," said the binder. "It's a conference for educating guardians of the Tree. All you need to do to register is say 'yes, I'll be attending,' and I'll expedite your confirmation."

Andrew frowned. "You'll have to excuse me, but I had a bad experience with a succubus about a year back, and I'm a little...more cautious than I used to be."

"The deadline for registration is...in 30 seconds," the binder replied.

"30 seconds?" Andrew exclaimed, drawing the attention of a table of sylphs who were flirting with a bunch of frat boys who had mistaken them for underage girls dressed in diaphanous lingerie. "What the hell is my registration doing showing up 30 seconds before I'm supposed to be enrolled? Didn't Harry Potter get a whole shit-load of invitations to Hogwarts?"

"That's post-secondary administration for you," the binder replied.

"No shit," Andrew replied. "Even magical registrars can't spell my name properly."

"20 seconds," the binder said.

"The last time I made a snap judgment like this I ended up having my life essence sucked out of me and shaped into a doppelganger," Andrew protested.

"10 seconds."

"No," Andrew said. "You people should have your shit together and give a person time to think these things through. I'm sick and tired of having magical adventures dropped in my lap. I have a coffee shop to run you know!"

"Very well then," the binder replied. "We're very sorry to hear you won't be attending this year's semi-decadal..."

Andrew grit his teeth as the binder paused, as though giving him another chance to change his mind.

"...often irregular..."

"How do I know you're not an evil tome, like the Necronomicon?" Andrew asked.

"...Spring Symposium..."

"The Necronomicon would never string words like Spring Symposium together," Andrew murmured to himself.

"...of..." the binder gave one last ostentatious pause.

"YES!" Andrew screamed. The whole shop went dead quiet. He smiled at his customers. "Uh...just found out Brandon Routh won't be playing Superman in the next film!" The low buzz of busy conversation resumed.

"Sorry?" the binder prompted. "Were you saying 'yes' to me?"

"Yes," Andrew replied.

"Yes what?" the binder urged.

"Yes, I will be attending."

Get ready for Spring

2008-03-25T00:56:00.004-06:00

No new episode. My apologies. I've been working very hard on finishing my thesis so I can graduate this year. I've been accepted to PhD studies in Comparative Literature at the University of Alberta and so I need to get that M.A. thesis finished. Will be done by the end of this week, so you have my word that April will appropriately be the full swing beginning of Magik Beans Book 2. It would have been pretty cool to have started on March 20 or 21st, but I was busy with family things. My wife and I have another little one, head over to the Gotthammer blog to see what Dacy looks like (and the other reason Magik Beans has been on hiatus).

In the meantime, I hope you'll enjoy my first crack at coloring/painting with my new Wacom tablet. I've got a long road ahead of me for getting used to it, but so far I'm head over heels in love with the unit. This picture was colored in under an hour, and my wrist doesn't feel like it's on fire, something painting with a mouse always ended in. The original sketches are from the days when Magik Beans was going to be a web comic instead of a flog. I'm hoping with the aid of the Wacom tablet to include the odd or perhaps semi-regular piece of art to accompany the week's episode. We'll see how that pans out. I'll need some models for it first...

Episode 2: Arcane Aprons

2008-02-19T13:49:00.006-07:00

When Andrew thought about who Lara had been when she'd first started working for him last winter, he had to smile. Her transformation had been no less miraculous than the presence of the giant ash tree which spread its boughs out over the interior of Magik Beans. She was still the goth poster girl, to be sure; jet black hair, blood red lips, and skin so alabaster you'd guess she wore sunblock at night. She still wore the knee high boots that laced all the way up with thigh-high fishnet stockings underneath a black PVC skirt trimmed with black and white lace, complete with what she had confirmed were D-rings, which she hung her key ring from. She'd designed the "Magik Beans" aprons to go with her wardrobe; today she was wearing the black one over a pink top with mesh sleeves. At least she pulled her hair into a ponytail. And he liked the aprons, right down to the five pointed star within a perfect circle on each of them.

"You know I'm a Christian by background," he told her when she'd shown him the design.

"They're protective wards," she replied. "I'm stitching protective spells into our workwear so we won't have a repeat of that incident with the banshee."

"I wasn't the one who forgot to make that latte half fat," Andrew chided with a grin. He realized he was sticking a finger in his ear in memory of how they'd all lost their hearing for a good week. He took the finger out of his ear and rotated his hand indicating for Lara to continue.

"Besides," Lara went on, "one of the earliest historical occurrences of the pentangle is in the Christian catacombs. They used it to indicate the five wounds of Christ."

"And Sir Gawain had one on his shield," John said from across the room where he was smoking his pipe. John was one of three mysterious men who the Tree had commissioned to educate Andrew in his work as a guardian of the Tree. They were exceedingly piecemeal in this education, and Andrew was forever wishing they'd offer a course on the subject at the University.

"Careful what you wish for," Jack, another of the three men while Charles laughed into his tea. They'd said no more on the subject, save that he ought to be thankful they were his teachers, "not some crackpot like that madman Dali," as John had put it.

He was thankful for their teaching. And for Lara's protective magic. Not only did the aprons protect them from magic, but they acted as a warning beacon for dark magic. The aprons turned cold when in the proximity of evil. The week before they'd been prepared for an attack on the Tree, only to discover that their aprons turned cold every time Nickelback came on over the P.A.

No, it wasn't Lara's look, nor her taste in music that had changed. It was the way her smile reached her eyes.

The Redux List

2008-02-17T21:56:00.006-07:00

Well, I'm back. As you can see, I've had good reason to be away. Her name is Dacy Mae Perschon, and she was born on Ash Wednesday; February 6, 2008 at 11:07 a.m. Being as she was born on Ash Wednesday, my wife Jenica and I have joked that we're giving up sleep for Lent.

A few weeks have gone by and life is finding a rhythm where I have moments (like this one) to turn my attention to Magik Beans. This isn't to say it hasn't been on my mind a great deal. I sat in my wife's hospital room the day after Dacy was born, dreaming up new possibilities for the story, but found more often than not that my mind kept returning to some of the inconsistencies from Book 1 that need cleaning up as I dive into book 2.

Hence this post. This is the Redux List. If you click on the title ("The Redux List") at the top of this post and bookmark it, you can come back from time to time to get updates on the alterations I'll be making to Book 1. I thought it best to keep the list all in one place rather than scattering it all over the flog (that's "fiction blog" for anyone who didn't know).

The list is already more or less comprehensive, but links to the changed pages will only appear as I make the changes, which will happen over the year as I work through the editorial process and write episodes for Book 2.

Redux List:

The Tree first appears without foliage (after all, it IS winter).
Andrew visits Ripper to ask about damage to the comic shop.
Blackout and Ripper come up with the idea to have a benefit concert to save the coffee shop.
At the concert, the music causes the Tree to bloom and grow foliage (setting up the idea of music which is a major theme of book 2).
The fund-raising concert makes enough money to keep the shop from going under (barely).
The Three Fates explain the Tree's growth to Lara, which sheds light on their concert going habit
When Lara, Blackout, and crew enter the Tree to rescue Andrew, Ripper brings his bagpipes instead of the tool belt. He explains that bagpipes were used in battle to frighten the enemy.
In order to focus her healing powers, Lara uses music to block outside noise (her Ipod).
It is Courtney and Silke who go to the front of the train on the approach to the North Pole, not Courtney and Lara. Blackout goes because Granny explains they will need the pyrotechnics, as her magic is not destructive, but protective and healing.
When the Leprechauns attack the train and Sunny is wounded, Ripper reacts in the only way he knows; music. He steps from the Train boldly and stands before the oncoming tide of Leprechauns. He begins to play a melancholy Irish lament, which stops the army in its tracks. Overwhelmed by the power of the music and their own shame rising from nostalgic memories of home, the Leprechaun army reject Finn's plan and give themselves up.
The damage Finn begins with the power of Spring starts a chain reaction of destruction; the ice continues to break, crack and explode, placing Jouloutorni, the city of Christmas in peril. Andrew's "kether moment" (to borrow Philosopher One's idea) which links him to the Tree permits him to halt this destruction by harnessing elemental power. Lara and Andrew together are able to heal the damage to the Pole and avert its destruction.

This set of changes feels most satisfactory to me, and allowed me to start thinking seriously about the second book without constantly thinking, "but that didn't happen in the first book." I had also felt that the wanton slaughter of the Leprechaun army was wrong from the moment I had written it, but was trying to keep my promise to myself to finish a "first draft" of Book 1 last year.

We can all consider the original draft to have occurred on a different branch of the Tree. And with all that set aside, tomorrow will see the second installment of Book 2.

Episode 1: Previously, on Magik Beans...

2008-01-19T01:51:00.001-07:00

"Let me guess," the blonde haired man said, appraising the family of bears standing across the counter from him. He pointed at the Father Bear, or at least the one he assumed was the Father Bear, given the smart looking tie it had around its neck. "You want one that's too big, and too hot." He pointed at the Mother Bear, whose feminine eyelashes, lipstick and apron had given her away. "You want one that's too small and too cold." Finally he turned his index finger on the small bear standing between the Mama and the Papa, ostensibly Baby Bear. "And you want one that's juuuuuust right."

"Actually," the Papa Bear replied, "I'll have a low-fat, half-sweet Caramel Machiatto, she'll have a hazelnut flavored latte, and my son will have a Strawberry Italian Soda."

"Oh," the blonde haired man said, and called out the order to the dark haired girl working the coffee machines.

Andrew Weazle took the money the bears paid with, smiling as he threw the gold coins into the wooden chest beneath the cash register. They always reminded him of the Leprechaun gold and the journey to the Pole, and of Silke. He wondered how she was doing; it had been months since he'd seen her, and weeks since he'd had word of her. In the last letter that had been dropped off, (delivered by a group of prudish witches who were vacationing in their neck of the woods, wanting to celebrate the Spring solstice somewhere that didn't involve acts of wanton sex in fields of grain) she'd written of an increase in Wolves moving boldly through the Deep Dark Wood, and would be on patrol until further notice. She'd closed by saying she didn't know when she would have time to write next.

Big Bad Wolves and Deep Dark Woods. A little over a year ago, Andrew would have thought that good subject matter for a Master's Thesis, but in the year since he'd traded the coffee shop's night deposit for magic coffee beans, resulting in the growth of a massive magic tree which turned out to be a gateway to the World Tree, permitting travel between other universes, he'd been nearly killed a succubus who had made a clone-like replica of him; nearly killed by a contingent of rebel Leprechauns, traveled to the North Pole on a magic train, where he'd narrowly averted ecological disaster on several planes of existence.

Which was to say nothing of what had happened after he'd gotten home. None of it came close to the intensity of those first three months that the Tree had forced its presence into his life, but there was certainly never a dull moment at Magik Beans. The name of the shop, like the coffee beans that had grown the Tree overnight, was a gift from Father Christmas. Another reality he'd have scoffed at once. Knowing there really was a Santa had certainly made the past Christmas a lot more fun. He'd left out more than just cookies and milk. A thermos of a bold Christmas roast with a spicy taste to it along with a bag of 'Fireside' pipe tobacco. The old man had left Andrew the treasure chest in return; it would only open for Andrew or Lara, the dark-haired girl who was handing the finished coffees to the Three Bears.

Before we get going again

2008-01-12T14:55:00.001-07:00

I sat up late the night I finished Book I, (which incidentally is called "Winter") making some editorial changes to the overall plot line, but not incorporating them into the malleable text here at the Blog. They'll appear in the edited for print version of Book I, which will be due out this Fall, just in time for...(drum roll) Winter! I can't make any promises, but that's my current goal.

Anyhow, the editorial changes are important as we go into Book 2, since I don't want to write another zillion pages with ideas or characters the print version will get rid of or adjust, etc.

So, a few summary changes, which currently all involve Blackout and Ripper.

Blackout and Ripper are switching occupations. Ripper is said to be the musician and Blackout really suits a comic book store owner much better. In addition, I can actually write a musician - I can't really write a DJ. That's fairly minor in the greater scheme of things, I'd say. In Book 1, Blackout finds out about the Tree earlier than he did in the blog story, simply because Andrew would come to check on the comic shop for damage; Blackout becomes a little suspicious at that point. Ripper is Blackout's roommate - they share rent on the apartment attached to the comic shop. The name of Ripper's band is, no surprise...Gotthammer, and in light of my own pipe dreams (no pun intended), it's one of those goth-metal bands with a uilleann pipe player in it. This is important for the "television show" aspect of Magik Beans - the theme music is official now (as official as pipe dreams ever get). It's the first 30 seconds of "Liam" by In Extremo. Here's a free download from Free Irish Music Downloads so you can enjoy it while you read. At any rate, the opening credits would feature Ripper and the members of Gotthammer rocking out. This is key for book 2, which will expand on Ripper and the music of Gotthammer. It is entirely possible that Sunny sings in the band, I haven't decided. And for the record, it was a fund raising concert put on by Gotthammer that first weekend of the Tree (An in-store performance) that saved the shop.

I was really uncomfortable with the ending of Book 1 insofar as the love scene between Ripper and Sunny seemed rather abrupt, without precedence in terms of character involvement, so expect them to be expanded in the print version.

Another little tidbit - Andrew's meeting with Silke, will as per Jim Baerg's suggestion, involve a greater deal of suspicion on Andrew's part. He makes a comment about having trouble trusting perfectly beautiful women, at which point Silke turns to face him, revealing a wicked triple scar from her forehead and down her cheek. She is also blind in one eye - haven't decided if she gets an eyepatch or a wicked cool magic eye, or just a dead white one.

So there are some updated thoughts.

As I am currently experiencing a kind of sorta writer's block to getting started again, I'm curious to know anything you as readers want to see expanded, or explained, etc. The current idea I'm playing with is a story with two or three plotlines which will come together at the end. Plotline 1: Ripper and Gotthammer enter a Battle of the Bands which spans the worlds. Plotline 2: Andrew enrolls in a very special course at the University along with other guardians of the Tree from other worlds. Plotline 3: Yeah. That's where I hit the wall.

I will start Thursday, hell or high water, and see where the muse takes us in 2008.

Episode 52: Solstice (redux)

2007-12-31T23:02:00.000-07:00

The gifts were presented to each of the travelers as they boarded the rebuilt and repaired Polar Express, shaking hands with wide eyed wonder with the man they had stopped believing in so many years prior. For each of them, he withdrew an object from the legendary sack of toys, and whispered something before they stepped onto the train, overcome with awe.

To Courtney he gave a gleaming katana and a scabbard. It was worked with odd symbols she couldn't recognize, but knew weren't Japanese. "For the warrior," Father Christmas said. "It will never lose its edge. It will cut through the scales of an Ice Drake, or cleave rock in twain."

To Blackout he said, "For the Master of the Dungeon, the storyteller," and handed him a black rectangular velvet bag. Blackout could feel something inside. He opened the neck of the bag and peeked inside.

"Tarot cards?" Blackout said.

"Not just any Tarot cards. Take them out."

Blackout pulled out one of the cards; The Fool, a young man capering in blissful ignorance at the edge of a cliff. But it wasn't just artwork. This Fool was actually dancing, in motion.

"Incredible," Blackout said.

"You think that's great," said the Fool from the card. "Wait until you see some of my breakdancing moves."

Blackout was speechless as he entered the train.

"For the Pathfinder," Father Christmas said as he hung a necklace with a compass on it around Silke's neck. "It will always lead you where you need to go...although that will not always mean where you want to."

"For the youngest Fate and the Guardian of the Tree," he said, turning to the only two who hadn't boarded yet. "You both have power within you, so I have no baubles or trinkets. For you, I have a much greater gift."

He pulled a long wooden plank from the bag.

"This gift will be both a blessing and curse," he told them. "It will identify the shop as a haven, a sanctuary for beings of magic traveling the Tree, and crossing from their world into yours, and from yours into others. It has been carved from the very wood of the Tree itself."

He held it so that Lara and Andrew could read it. Lara giggled and gave Andrew a hug.

"It's perfect," she said.

Andrew nodded, grinning from ear to ear. He was about to board the train when he suddenly stopped, turned, and looked back at the man with the white beard.

"You," he said in disbelief.

"Me?" Father Christmas replied.

"You were the one...you gave me the beans."

The man's eyes twinkled indeed as he smiled and nodded.

"Why? And what were you doing in Edmonton dressed as a bum?"

"Every year I make my way south for a vacation. I leave the world of magic and then spend some time in one of the worlds I visit, enjoying living as a mortal again, if only for a brief period. I was in your neck of the woods on the errand of choosing a new guardian for the Tree's avatar in your world."

"But why me? Out of all the people in the world...?"

"I watch you all as you grow up and keep a list of all you do, and all you do not do. The sum of your life is my business. It's why I was appointed with the task in the worlds I visit. And I chose you, because I knew you would do well. Which you have."

"But I didn't do well...I nearly got the Tree destroyed..."

"And yet here you are. You're asking too many questions, and some of you still have work left to do. You have a coffee shop to run. Best you get back to it."

* * * * * * *

The first elf who entered the coffee shop found himself facing a rather fierce and unshaven looking math professor wielding a long wooden walking stick like it was a sword, and a teenage boy who was attempting two fisted fury with a coffee pot in each hand.

"Kill it!" the teenage boy shouted. "It's a Leprechaun!"

"It's an elf," a familiar voice said, stepping out of the shadowy foliage of the Tree. Blackout smiled down at the two vigilant watchmen. "Leprechauns have rounder faces."

The ladder was put in place, and a group of weary travelers, both elf and human alike climbed down into the shop. Geo and Mikey shook hands, embraced friends they'd given up on seeing ever again, and laughed through tears at seeing how many changes were written on the faces of Andrew, Sunny, Courtney and Ripper.

"We have gifts," Andrew announced, taking the book of Magic spells based on mathematical formulae Father Christmas had intended for Geo and the boots of Stealth he'd had made for Mikey.

"These really work?" Mikey asked.

"You'll make no sound while you're in them. You can sneak out the front door of your house now," Ripper said.

Geo looked up from the book's parchment like pages, inscribed with mathematical formula and esoteric symbols, tears in his eyes. "I always knew the universe worked this way. I just knew it."

"But what about Blackout?" Mikey asked. "And the new girl, Lara...what happened to them...they're all right, aren't they?"

Andrew and Ripper exchanged knowing looks and grinned. Courtney playfully punched Ripper's arm, and said, "They're both all right."

"I'd say they're better than just all right," Ripper snorted and he and Andrew broke into peals of laughter.

"So where are they?" Mikey persisted.

* * * * * * *

"You and Lara need to take our place at the Grotto to bring Spring.” Eostre had told him.

“You mean have sex?” Blackout had asked, his mouth having gone completely dry. "Why us?"

"You're the only two with a strong enough bond amongst your friends. None of the others could work this magic."

"Sunny and Ripper?"

"Sunny is still too badly wounded...and Ripper's heart is not fit to the task--yet."

"None of the elves either?"

"Not the menninkäinen, no. There are elves who can, but we have no time to seek them out and make arrangements, nor is Dieter fit to travel to work the passing ritual. The solstice is coming soon. You are here, and we need your help. Is there a problem?"

“I don't think so," Blackout said. "It's just...I wanted to get to know her first...you know?”

Eostre paused, her whiskers twitching. “I think I can help you,” she said at last. A furry paw reached into a leather satchel and produced a rock, which was handed over to Randy. “An amulet,” the hare told him.

“Is it magic?” he asked.

Eostre said nothing, her brow furrowed. Then she nodded. “Oh yes. It will help you make her understand the depth of your feeling for her. But,” she added, “there are a series of rituals which must be performed right prior to making love. They have to be performed so Lara can see them done or the amulet won’t work.”

As Blackout cooked a meal to Eostre's specifications, he and Lara talked. About everything. What had happened, what they'd do when they got home, and in uncomfortable jokes, about what lay before them. Finally, the meal was ready and they ate in silence, looking at each other occasionally, speaking with their gazes.

“That was wonderful,” Lara said when they were finished. “What’s for desert?”

“The second ritual,” Eostre had told Blackout, “is to rub this ointment all over her body. This is to clothe you in the essence of Spring...the force which lives within Dieter and I.”

The ointment was a golden, translucent liquid with the consistency of honey. Blackout produced the bottle and smiled at Lara. She raised here eyebrows and asked, “What’s this?”

Instead of answering, Blackout began laying out their sleeping bags on the Grotto floor. He didn’t exactly know how much of his body needed to be touching the earth when he and Lara finally...did what they were there to do, but he wasn’t interested in trying to make love on wet grass or moss. This accomplished, he went back to Lara and helped her to her feet. Then, slowly, deliberately, gently he undressed her.

The smell of the oil was wonderful, filling the air with it’s thick, sweet scent. Blackout’s hands worked up and down the entire length of Lara’s body. At times, she made little noises of pleasure, making it all the more difficult to complete the ritual. Finally, her entire body covered by a light layer of the oil, Lara was ready for the third ritual.

“Can you sing?” Dieter had asked him.

“Can't carry a tune in a bucket,” Blackout replied.

“That complicates matters," Eostre said. "It would help if you could sing. Or recite a poem.”

“Which one?”

“Something about love.”

“A poem about love,” Blackout said. "I don't suppose you could 'vague that up for me'?"

Lara’s eyes were still closed when Blackout recited the first words...

"Shall I compare thee to a summer's day?" Blackout intoned, "Thou art more lovely, and more temperate..." Slowly, her lids raised and she turned her head to look at Blackout. He was shaking. He missed a line. He stammered. He was beautiful.

Blackout was absorbed with trying to remember all the words he screamed and jumped and cried out when Lara kissed him. Deeply. Passionately. He opened his eyes to see her, one of the sleeping bags draped around her shoulders for warmth.

“I’m cold,” she said in a husky voice. “Come warm me up.”

“I love you,” he whispered in the darkness. "For quite some time now, I think."

"I suspected as much."

They slept in the embrace of the earth that evening. In the morning, they woke to a Spring sunrise.

* * * * * *

The elves hung the sign Father Christmas had made in place of the old one, which had simply read "Coffee Shop". With the same exquisite craftsmanship that had transformed the interior of the shop from a typical modern cafe into a sacred space filled with decor that evoked enchantment, they mounted the sign, casting spells on it to illuminate it; passersby would marvel at how the sign seemed to be lit from within, and how the letters glowed a faint eldritch green on nights of the New Moon.

The letters could be seen by more than just human eyes. They called out to the fairy folk who walked through the campus, those who were coming for a cup of good strong coffee before commencing their journeys to other worlds, and other branches of the Tree.

Magik Beans, the sign read.

Episode 51: Loose Threads

2007-12-30T00:15:00.000-07:00

Eostre had bounded from the train moments before the engine had shot off the tracks and into the water, utilizing the chaos of the steam, the oncoming rush of the Redcoats, and the ensuing battle to mask her flight across the ice, winter white fur blending with the frozen landscape. She'd known the source of the bright flash the moment it had lit up the eternal night of the Pole, casting long shadows through the passenger car. And she'd made her mind up to throw all caution to the wind in the hope that Dieter still lived.

At the base of the wall, she'd found Finn and Coll near the place where they'd fallen. Coll, being undead, had survived the fall, but the arrow in his neck had caught on something and twisted, snapping the spinal column; unlike George Romero's zombies, he hadn't died, or undied, or whatever it is undead do when they cease to be animated corpses. He hadn't deaniminated. Become still. You get the idea. He was, however, fully occupied in trying to keep his head from rolling at useless angles so that he was either staring entirely at the sky, the ground, or his chest. Eostre gave the best assistance she knew to given that Coll was one of the Leprechauns directly responsible for her imprisonment and Dieter's kidnapping and possible murder.

She tore his head off and kicked it like a football out into the frozen lake, where it eventually sank to the bottom. Coll became effectively deanimated.

Finn had fared better than his undead first officer in the fall, but was clearly aware that he was going to fare worse if Eostre reached him.

The fall had only broken his leg, and so he had dragged himself towards his gun, which was still connected to the box. There was a small amount of the golden liquid pulsing inside of it which had leaked from inside the box through the tube and into the gun. He reached it just as Eostre reached him. Her hind leg kicked out at him and shattered his forearm before he could close his fingers around the grip.

Finn screamed in pain and uttered a string of curses that was cut short by another kick from the giant hare's back leg which connected with Finn's mouth, causing him to lose a serious number of teeth.

"You sick little bastard," Eostre said, looking down at the gun and the device it was connected to. "You stole the life right out of him...and for what?"

Finn tried to mumble something through broken teeth, a lacerated tongue and the blood that kept filling his mouth, but Eostre had picked up the syringe end of the device, whirled and jammed it squarely in the middle of Finn's head. He dropped into the snow, as deanimated as Coll.

Eostre looked up to the top of the battlement, looking for the place where the Redcoats had fallen from. She spied it at the top; one foreleg, hanging over the edge.

* * * * * * *

The force-shield Granny had woven about the front of the train engine moments before impact with the lake emerged from the water,icy cold liquid sluicing of its surface. The Conductor, Blackout, Courtney and Lara gazed out at the massacre of the Redcoats. A great circle of carnage radiated out from a centrifugal point, and in the center of it all, a tiny figure sat, huddled in the snow.

"My God," Blackout whispered. "What the hell happened?"

"Andrew," Lara said. "That's Andrew out there."

The force bubble floated at Granny's command towards Andrew. It looked to them all as though the Redcoats had been hit by a steam roller, a brick wall, and then dropped off the Empire State Building for good measure. Granny set the bubble down a few feet from where Andrew sat, staring wide eyed out at nothing. Lara felt the wind blow on her face as the force shield dissolved, and ran to Andrew's side, dropping to a crouch beside him in the snow.

She took his face in her hands and asked him what had happened.

"I surrendered," Andrew said. "I gave myself over to the Tree, and...I became a part of it somehow. I can't explain it. Up until that moment, the Leprechauns seemed a terrible threat. And then in a moment...they were like gnats that were causing an itch...so I swatted them." He looked around at the devastation. "But now that I'm just me again...it doesn't seem so insignificant. I hadn't intended for...this. But when I merged with the Tree...I felt so angry all of a sudden."

"You sensed the Tree's perception of what was happening here and gave vent to it through your human emotions," Granny said. "We aren't meant to channel eternity through these forms."

Andrew nodded. "I'm so very tired."

"I'll fly us up to the city," Granny said, "And hopefully we'll all be able to get some much needed...oh my."

Granny was staring at Eostre, who was carrying Dieter across her back. There was a rude puncture wound in the male hare's neck, and his breathing was coming in short, shallow bursts.

"He's dying," Eostre said through tears.

* * * * * * *

Lara stepped forward without hesitation and placed her hands on Dieter's soft white fur, stained with his own blood. She could sense the life of Spring in his body, only a tiny flicker, like a guttering candle trying to hold its flame in the face of a strong wind. She closed her eyes, breathed deeply, and again, as with Eostre at Granny's house, she could see the roots, the branches, the great trunk of the Tree. The sap rose, flowed through her, and into Dieter's body, giving strength to the flame. It spluttered, then flared to life again, and began to grow. Where Andrew had felt the Tree's rage at the attempt to destroy Life, Lara sensed Its desire to return that Life to its former vitality. Beneath her touch, the flame within Dieter quickened.

* * * * * * *

Hours later, an old man with a long white beard who Andrew would have recognized as Lump stepped from the red and gold sleigh, to stand beside Ilmari-Pekka as he supervised the extraction of the train from the lake, and the removal of the fallen Redcoats.

"It took them long enough to find you," Ilmari-Pekka said, a note of chagrin in his voice.

"I'm not supposed to be found while I'm on my vacation," Father Christmas replied, his face tanned from weeks in the Dominican Republic. "I'm not sure they would have found me if I wasn't already on my way back." He surveyed the tableau before him. "Quite a mess these Redcoats made."

"The boy proved worthy of the gift," the elf said. "In the end."

"If I'd known how quickly the forces of Chaos would rise to beset him, I might have made another choice. It's worse than ever before. They've gained footholds on so many branches."

"The choice was a good one. He rose to the occasion."

Father Christmas smiled.

"Take a group of the menninkäinen when they return to their world," Father Christmas said. "I have gifts for them all. They've certainly earned them. And I think that shop could use a little elven craftsmanship."

Ilmari Pekka nodded.

"And Eostre and Dieter?" Father Christmas asked.

"Dieter is still very weak, but the girl brought him back from the brink. He's not strong enough to go the grotto and bring Spring...but we've made provision for it."

Father Christmas raised an inquisitive eyebrow.

"Provision?"

Episode 50: One thousandth of a second

2007-12-27T22:48:00.000-07:00

One of the questions most common to children at Christmas is to ask how Santa can possibly fly around the world in one night; rational literalists have determined that the delivery of gifts to each household needs to be accomplished in a thousandth of a second. They've also determined that for Santa to make a dead stop at the speed he'd be traveling would result in him being jettisoned at a speed that would first pulverize the reindeer he'd shoot through, and then turn him into Christmas pudding.

As if speed had anything to do with it.

The truth of the matter is that the infamous reindeer are one of several modes for traveling the Tree. They do not exist within any of the worlds the Tree touches, but have footholds in all of them at once. They are able to travel through and within worlds, but being part of the Tree, perceive Time very differently from humans. Unlike the Tree itself, which, immovable and insofar as humans can comprehend, perceives the goings on in the worlds much like you perceive the microorganisms running around in your hair. The reindeer, as a mode of transportation for the Tree, and therefore able to move at speeds which give the impression of omnipresence to humans, see things as hardly ever moving. They move so fast that even standing still, they seem translucent; a blur to the naked eye. Impossible for detection devices to...well, detect.

When Saint Nicholas made his journey to the Pole, he was granted the reindeer as his means of transportation for his journey on Christmas night, which is celebrated in many worlds, and by many cultures within those worlds. The Sleigh was fashioned by the menninkäinen from the wood of the Tree itself, to retain the bond with it. When Santa, or any other being sits within that sleigh, their perception of time slows to match the Reindeers'. The world seems to come to an immediate stop. Objects in mid-air hang, seemingly immobile.

It makes being faster than a speeding bullet seem like standing still.

So when Ilmari-Pekka took the reindeer from their stable, bridled them to the sleigh, and let them loose with the commands to retrieve the survivors in the besieged train, the Leprechaun redcoats had the impression of something flashing across their vision.

What Ripper and everyone else in the train saw was something quite different. Being outside of the worlds allowed the reindeer to pass through solid objects at will, sliding between molecules or some such rot, and so one moment they were not there, and the next, they simply were. Silke was the first to see their blurred forms standing in the aisle of the train, backing the sleigh into the water beside Sunny's limp form. Ripper accidentally leaned against the sleigh to steady himself, aware only of a disorienting blurred motion beside him, and that was when he noticed the bullet hanging, spinning ever so slowly about two inches from his pupil.

"Don't let go of the sleigh," a voice said to him. "That bullet will blow your brains out before you even knew it had happened."

Ripper turned his head, keeping his body pressed against the sleigh and saw one of the reindeer with his head turned, facing Ripper.

"Blitzen," the Reindeer said simply. "Keep at least one part of your body touching the sleigh and help the ladies inside."

Ripper turned and put his hand into the water, which gave as little resistance as ever, but moved like it had the consistency of wet concrete. He grabbed onto Sunny's hand and pulled her to him.

Items outside the field of the reindeers' influence move normally, and according to the physics of the world they inhabit. Ripper was reaching from within that abnormal bubble of frantic motion to pull Sunny inside its' influence. Until she reached it, she seemed to move at an infinitesimally ponderous speed. He looked at her, lying unconscious, her blonde hair falling down against her cheek...

And it was in that journey between the water and the sleigh that Ripper realized a great many things.

* * * * * * *

Silke saw Ripper bump up against something and then he too was blurred, like the object behind him. Almost as suddenly as he struck the blurry object...it looked like an old fashioned sleigh...he reached out his hand (one moment his arm was next to him and the next it had taken hold of Sunny and was pulling her closer). Then she felt a momentary spike of pain in her shoulder before being pulled into that blurred field herself. She gasped as Andrew's face came clear in front of her, his eyes panicked.

"Are you all right?" he nearly shouted.

"I think so," she said, but she could feel a burning sensation on the back of her right shoulder.

"Keep your hands touching this," Andrew said, inclining his head toward a magnificent sleigh, painted red with gilded gold knotwork. He kept one hand on the sleigh himself and looked over her shoulder. "I could see the bullet come through the glass," he said. "And it was coming towards you. I was up where the reindeer are..." Silke looked in fascination at the eight beasts tethered to the sleigh. The lead one was speaking with John and Charles. "And by the time I got down here it was entering your shoulder. But it didn't get too far. Turn around."

She turned and Andrew pointed to a round ball of lead hanging in the air, its' surface discolored with the red of Silke's blood. She gasped and nearly held a hand to her mouth, then remembered to keep it held to the side of the sleigh.

"They're going to take us out of here," Andrew said. "You, I mean."

"What do you mean?" Silke asked. "Aren't you coming as well?"

Andrew shook his head. "John and Charles and I are remaining behind. There's apparently something we have to do."

* * * * * * *

To be linked to the Tree is to be linked to the Magic that holds the universes together. Time, Space, and many of the constants that the worlds seem to run by are forces for manipulation. Throughout all the worlds, and all the times within those worlds, there are those who seek to access the power to manipulate this Magic. Some have succeeded in gaining the power to manipulate one or another, but never all. That is reserved for those who are linked to the Tree. These are the people to whom Miracles are attributed. Bodies of water displaced and held in suspension while a nation walked to freedom. Blind eyes seeing for the first time. Walking on water. Resurrections.

To be linked to the Tree in surrender is a powerful thing, Andrew realized. John had told him what he would have to do in order to fully surrender himself to the Tree. Odin had hung on the world ash for nine days and nights. Jesus hung on the Cross for hours. He only had minutes, but they were spent in the presence of the reindeer, and so time stretched out...

And in that time, Andrew too, realized a great many things.

* * * * * * *

And when that thousandth of a second was over, the Redcoat Leprechauns were left only with the impression of a disturbance in the air before the train car exploded outward in a thousand tiny fragments, and something wild and primordial rose up from a crouched position, unfolding its limbs like a tree unfolding its branches, a dark shape against the white snow and ice, dark as the depths of the forest.

The Leprechauns stopped firing their weapons then, uncertain of what had happened. The front ranks of their numbers lay wounded or dead from the debris and shrapnel of the passenger car's explosion. They also stopped firing, because somewhere in their own being, magic as it was, they sensed that firing their weapons would do them no good.

Some simply dropped to their knees and hung their heads, remembering a time long passed when they'd run through meadows and danced beneath rainbows, when they too had been a part of the Tree. Others ran in terror, knowing how far they'd come from those days, and fearing that the butcher's bill they had accumulated would be too great for grace to intervene.

The dark shape strode into their midst, and there was death upon the snow.

Episode 49: Ghosts and Reindeer

2007-12-20T12:15:00.001-07:00

There was a terrible inevitability as the moment of triumph gave way to the realization of what Finn’s terrible device had engineered; water lapping against the edges of the seemingly indestructible ice, a great rift between the train and the Jouloutorni. Those standing on the pilot truck simply grabbed the hand rails and braced themselves. Those in the passenger car were blissfully unaware until metal and water collided.

Like some great dark serpent, the train slammed into the water with great force, the heat of the engine and coal car sending great gouts of steam shooting up with a violence that seemed to satisfy the cold hungry waters. The momentum of the train was slowed enough that the passenger car struck with less force, the saving grace of its passengers. The weight of the engine tore the coal car loose from the passenger car, which hung half in the water and half out, partially submerged, but held to the solidity of the ice by the empty series of cars and caboose trailing it.

The engine sank like a stone; the steam abated. And a great cry roared up from the battlements as the Redcoat Leprechauns descended onto the ice to finish off whoever had survived the crash.

* * * * * * *

Andrew came to with a loud cry, forcing himself up out of the frigid water. He shook uncontrollably, soaked to the bone, and looked around frantically. Ripper was holding onto an unconscious Sunny, supporting her with his arms wrapped around her chest. The car was tilted at an angle...the doorway out was an uphill climb. There was a flash of red beneath a dark cloak, and Silke dropped down beside him in the water.

“Are you hurt?” she asked.

“I don’t think so!” he shouted. He’d hadn’t wanted to shout, but his air was all coming out in quick, short bursts.

“We have to get out of the water!” she told him, her voice getting louder now too. She grabbed his arm.

He shook his head and pointed. “Help Ripper with Sunny. I’ll manage.”

Silke waded through the water to give Ripper a hand in getting Sunny up out of the water. Charles had descended from his chair, seemingly without a scratch.

“You know I can’t help you,” he said to Silke.

“Save your strength,” Silke said, nodding.

What’s he mean? Andrew wondered, climbing up out of the water, pulling himself up the angled floor of the car, hand over hand on seat after seat until he reached John, who had braced himself…or had he?...against the last row of seats and was peering out the window intently.

Andrew looked at him and saw that he too, like Charles, was without injury. His clothes were unruffled.

“How…how…?” Andrew began.

“We’re only appointed to die once,” John replied. “I look like I did when I was a young man…can even do things I did then. Smoking, eating, drinking…but this isn’t the same sort of body as yours. Yours fits earth. This one fits heaven.”

“You’re a ghost?” Andrew gaped.

“Nothing of the sort,” John said. “I am as I will always be, now and evermore. A marvelous form, to be sure. Not bound by the same rules as yours. But sadly, lacking those rules, unable to affect the world ruled by them…save by my presence. I can perceive, and give guidance, but cannot affect.”

“So you’re completely useless?” Andrew said. “We came here for a fight!” He felt frustration welling up in him. He had no idea where Lara and Blackout were…if they were alive or not…and Sunny…

“We cannot directly affect,” he said firmly. “Don’t jump to conclusions Andrew. We would never have made the journey simply for the scenery.”

“So what exactly is it you’re going to do?” Andrew asked, still angry. Behind John, through the car window, he could see a mass of red coats surging towards the wreckage, running over the ice, the sound of weapon fire drawing ever closer.

* * * * * * *

The Leprechauns did not slow as they reached the train, but rather only halted to load a new clip or grenade into weapon before encircling the wreckage. The passenger car was still in the water, with no sign of survivors from the engine. James had seen a face at the window of the passenger car, and was readying to riddle it with bullets.

Where’s Finn? he wondered. Finn should already have turned the device on the Citadel. James looked about, desperately.

“You want us to finish them off?” a young (meaning somewhere in the vicinity of 200 years old), eager looking (meaning he actually had drool trailing off his lip in anticipation of the kill) Redcoat asked James, cradling his weapon (which is to say he was holding it like it was making up for some possible physiologically lack).

James ground his teeth and his mouth became a thin line as he pressed his lips together. “Do it,” he growled.

The young and eager Redcoat let out a whooping battle cry before opening fire on the train, in his haste forgetting to raise the barrel of his gun and consequently shooting himself in the foot.

* * * * * * *

From the battlements of the Jouloutorni, Ilmari Pekka and Karhu had watched in horror as the gates to the frozen lake had exploded, followed by the rushing train surging through the opening only to ram into the lake waters. They had watched as the Redcoats had massed across the remaining ice surface, and then recoiled as they’d opened fire on the train car.

“We must do something!” Karhu roared.

Ilmari Pekka felt the need to act as well, but knew that all their actions were futile. The Redcoats carried guns, while the mennikäinen had always eschewed the use of such mechanized weapons. No one was supposed to be able to reach the Pole by means other than the Polar Express, the Tree, and Lord Christmas’ sleigh. This was not a contingency Ilmari Pekka had ever imagined. Goblin attacks were one thing; they were denizens of the Pohlja and had no access to the type of weapons the Redcoat Leprechauns had brought. They would defend the Jouloutorni to their dying breath, but to run out the front gates would be to lead them all to slaughter.

“Do what?” Ilmari Pekka replied. “Even if we were to go down, we’re cut off from them by the water! You can swim the gulf Karhu, but you’d be shot down before you ever reached the train!”

“The reindeer,” Karhu said. “We must send the reindeer.”

Ilmari Pekka nodded. “We can do that much.”

Episode 48: Playing with Pyro

2007-12-17T14:52:00.000-07:00

Blackout was out of his seat barely seconds after realizing that Lara was going with Courtney. He barely made it to the door and squeezed through to a surprised look from the Conductor.

"Where are you going?" the man asked him.

Blackout held up one of the flight cases he'd lugged with him. When he'd first entered the Tree with Eostre, the cases had seemed to weigh a ton, and by the end of the day's walking, 20 tons. He thought his arms were going to fall off for certain. And while the second day was nearly as agonizing, the third had been better. Following the stop over at Granny’s house, he found that the cases seem to weigh next to nothing. At first, he’d thought it had to do with the food, that it was magical, but when they’d entered the train and he’d taken off his jacket, Lara had pinched his arms and waggled her eyebrows suggestively, adding a “check out the pipes,” before walking away. He’d been forced to sit down immediately.

Now, he could hold the case without any apparent effort. The Conductor noted the blaster’s warning sticker on the exterior of the case, nodded in assessment of the possibilities such a case could warrant, and waved Blackout on.

He’d always wondered what it would be like to climb along the edge of a speeding train, and he realized it was nowhere near as easy as it seemed to be in movies. The wind tore at his face, and the barrier wall of ice which loomed increasingly large in front of them provided both a sense of urgency and danger. The gates at the end of the tracks were still closed.

Blackout followed Granny, Courtney and Lara to the front of the train, clinging to the hand rail with one hand and holding the flight case in the other. They reached the foot board over top of the pilot truck, and the intensity of the wind against Blackout’s face doubled. He gasped for breath, and found it hard to keep his eyes open without tearing, which resulted in frozen droplets forming on his eyelids.

Granny performed a movement that reminded Blackout of Tai Chi, while intoning a sing song chant which made him think of Enya’s music for some reason. The blast of the wind stopped immediately. Blackout gaped at the shield Granny had conjured between the elements and them, a bubble of protection.

“That’ll keep the wind and snow out,” she said. “But it will also prevent your arrows from flying true – it’ll be like shooting through water, so I’ll have to release it when you’re ready to fire.”

Courtney was nodding, already down on one knee, getting her bow ready to fire. Lara started, a little embarrassed it seemed, and began prepping her bow as well.

“Granny,” Lara said, “I’m really not that good a shot – I could barely hit things in the coffee shop when I was standing still. What is it we’re supposed to hit?”

“The top of the wall,” the Conductor said, stepping onto the pilot truck. “Up there, at the top of the battlement.”

They all looked up.

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” Courtney said. “That’s nearly 500 yards!”

“And closing!” the Conductor replied. “And I think with your friend’s little box of tricks, one of you might be able to get us access to the lake beyond the wall…otherwise, we’re going to come to a very abrupt stop!”

“What are you talking about?” Lara asked, incredulous. “This is ridiculous!”

“I think I know what he means,” Granny said, looking at the sticker on the outside of Blackout’s flight case. “Best get whatever it is you need out of there quick boy.”

Blackout dropped the case to the foot board and popped the latches. “I think this will do for whoever’s firing to the top of the battlement,” he said, holding out a small cardboard tube and a roll of electrician’s tape.

The Conductor grabbed both and gestured to Courtney, who handed him an arrow. Blackout lifted the first level of pyro and pulled out another cardboard tube; this one was considerably larger than the first. He grabbed one of Lara’s arrows and began strapping the tube to it.

“That’s too big,” Lara said. “I won’t be able to shoot that straight!”

“Aim high,” Courtney said.

“You’ll be able to do it,” Granny said.

“Gate’s not getting any farther away!” the Conductor announced.

Courtney took her arrow back from him and nocked it. She drew her arm back and aimed at the top of the battlement.

“Wait!” Blackout shouted. “It needs to be lit! The fuse!”

Granny made a quick gesture, fingers splayed, palm out, at the arrow and the fuse was lit.

“Can I shoot?” Courtney asked, looking nervously at the fuse.

“Not yet,” Granny replied, as Lara stood and drew her arrow back as well. Granny lit the second fuse.

“Would really like to not be close to this thing when it goes off,” Courtney said.

“You’ll be fine!” Blackout said. “It fires away from you!”

“Not comforting,” Courtney replied.

Granny was chanting in a low voice, one hand on each of the girl’s shoulders. A glow moved from her hands to surround both girls.

“I’m going to release the shield,” she said. “On the count of three…and then you fire. One…”

A blast of light erupted from the top of the battlement, slicing into the ice just ahead of them, cutting towards the tracks.

“THREE!” Granny shouted, and the shield was suddenly gone and wind, snow and now water erupting from the cut in the ice assaulted them.

“Shoot!” the Conductor yelled.

Courtney loosed her arrow, and a moment behind her, Lara released hers.

Blackout had done pyro at a concert once where his assistant had pointed the gerbs in the wrong direction. A gerb is supposed to shoot a fountain of white-hot sparks a variety of heights into the air. These ones were 20 foot gerbs, and when they’d gone off, they’d burned a trough into the concrete stage beneath the pyro stands, before arcing out over the audience. Just before the 30 foot gerb he’d placed on Courtney’s arrow reached the battlement, the gerb went off.

The white hot spray of sparks burned a hole in the ice of the battlement, the arrow shot through, and then blew a clean, cauterized hole through Coll’s undead chest before the arrow struck him just to the left of that steaming hole, sending him flying over the edge of the battlement, pulling the syringe from Dieter’s neck. Finn looked down in annoyance, the golden light from the gun having gone out before being seeing the box of gears and pipes yanked over the side as the tube linking it to the syringe went tight. He realized all too late that the box was also tied to the gun in his hands. He followed Coll, box, syringe and gun down over the edge of the battlement with a scream.

Blackout and the others on the train saw none of this. Their attention was focused on Lara’s arrow, which had struck one of the great doors barring their entrance to the frozen lake. The explosive had not gone off yet. The train continued speeding towards the closed gates.

“Is it just going to shoot sparks?” Lara asked in a panicked voice.

“No,” Blackout shouted in reply, “It’s not a gerb…it’s a…”

There was a terrifically loud ‘thump!’ followed by the door exploding into shrapnel.

“…concussion…we call them concussions. Saw one knock part of a ceiling out of a club once. Figured it would do the trick.”

“It certainly did,” the Conductor said. “Hold onto the hand rail!” he shouted as the train struck the remaining bits of wood and roared into the inner ring.

“Welcome to the Frozen Lake!” the Conductor shouted.

“Doesn’t look frozen to me,” Courtney said.

They all looked up in time to see the tracks ahead of them end, dropping off into a very unfrozen body of water.

Episode 47: The Battle at the Pole, round 2

2007-12-14T12:16:00.000-07:00

Finn's eyes went wide with shock as the power lanced out from the barrel of the wicked looking gun he held, slicing into the seemingly impenetrable ice lake that stretched between the outer wall he and Coll stood upon and the Christmas citadel. He had known that the essence of Spring within Dieter held great power, but he'd had no idea it would have this effect on the ice of the Utter North.

"This is going to be all too easy," he laughed. He turned to Coll, who was holding the massive syringe in Dieter's neck. The great Hare's eyes were filled with tears, and Finn could hear the muffled protests from beneath the black leather muzzle strapped over Dieter's mouth. His hands were bound, and they'd been forced to actually break his legs to keep him from kicking when Coll had first inserted the needle. Without his legs, he was much more pliable, and they'd been able to get the needle inside his neck.

Coll had pulled back the plunger, and the syringe had filled with a golden substance that reminded Finn of honey...or perhaps maple syrup. He'd enjoyed maple syrup; one of the few good things he'd experienced while in exile. Those bloody fools in Canada certainly didn't know how to prepare a good stout ale. Always cold, never warm.

He'd have a good hot ale soon enough. Just as soon as they brought on a powerful thaw. To melt the towers of Jouloutorni. With the syringe full, Finn had turned on the gun connected to the syringe by a tube that ran into the box of gears and copper wire. The device had drawn the golden fluid through the tube. As it passed into the box, the gears came to life, clicking and whirring. Smoke had issued from some of the pipes, and then something passed up through the coiled tube leading to Finn's weapon.

Now the fluid shone, radiated light and heat. Finn could feel the warmth immediately on his face, like he'd stepped next to a furnace. He'd turned his gaze on the lake, pointed the gun, and fired.

The heat of the sun seemed to come out of the barrel, a stream of light that carved down into the ice. And the ice had not simply melted. It had exploded.

"The Train is still coming," Coll said. "And it's gaining speed."

Finn had laughed again, and turned the gun away from Jouloutorni, turning it towards the approaching black steam engine and the cars it pulled.

* * * * * * *

The Conductor was standing in the engine of the Polar Express, his eyes scanning the outer wall. The gates to the frozen lake were still closed, and while they should have been signaled by now, none of the signal fires were lit. And he could swear he'd heard the signal horns from Jouloutorni only moments earlier.

"You look worried old boy," Jack said, standing beside him with a lit cigarette between his fingers.

"There!" the conductor shouted, pointing to one of the battlements on the outer wall.

A great light had shone in the perpetual night of the Utter North, as though the sun was coming up over the horizon. A deafening roar followed the light, and they could see geysers of water shooting up over the top of the wall, sending chunks of ice hurtling skyward.

"We're in a bit of jelly, and make no mistake," the Conductor said, with more annoyance than the awe that Jack felt seeing the wanton destruction Finn's device was wreaking on the frozen lake. "Seems your redcoats are preparing a welcome for us."

"So it would seem," Jack said, but the Conductor had already climbed out onto the side of the coal car and was clambering quickly toward the passenger car behind it.

The engineers were watching the devastation as well, looking nervously at the still closed gates.

"Ever had to ram those?" Jack asked conversationally.

They shook their heads, fear in their eyes.

"Any chance of us slowing enough that we won't be pulverized when we hit?" Jack asked.

They shook their heads again.

"Bugger," Jack said.

* * * * * * *

"I don't want to alarm anyone," the Conductor said breathlessly as he tumbled into the passenger car where the rest of the group was assembled. "But I was wondering if any of you might be able to hit a stationary target from a moving train?"

Lara looked over at Courtney, who was already picking up her bow and quiver. "How far?" Courtney asked.

"Over a hundred meters," the Conductor replied.

Courtney gaped. "I can't shoot that far, moving train or not."

"Yes you can," Granny said. "Both you and Lara can. You'll need some help, but you can hit it. Come." This last command was directed at Lara.

"I can help," Silke said.

"I need you here," Granny replied. "In case something should happen to us, your bow will be needed here."

"What should the rest of us do?" Ripper asked as the women climbed out the door to cross to the coal car.

"Brace yourselves. We're in for a rough ride."

Episode 46: The Battle at the Pole, round 1

2007-12-12T11:26:00.000-07:00

His name was Ilmari-Pekka, and he had been in the service of Father Christmas since the fourth magi had left his companions on the road from Bethlehem to travel into the northern wastes. His northward journey had brought him to what was now know as Finland, and there he had encountered the menninkäinen, the little people. They had been the ones who brought his journey from the snow wastes of to the branches of the Tree, and then to the Pohlja, the "North Lands", a dark and frozen world completely trapped in ice. It was here that the Aarnivalkea, the eternal flame of the Utter North burned. That flame reached to the heavens, pointing to the Pohjantähti, the North Star. Between those two points, the menninkäinen said the World Pillar stretched. And it was here that the mennikäinen, and their Lord Christmas, who they called Ukko after their own god of sky and thunder helped to maintain the balance of Order and Chaos. The Pohlja was a magic land; it could not be reached save by magic.

Here, the ice never melted. The snows always fell. And thought it was always cold, it was not a cold that chilled the bone. It was the cold of a winter's day with the sun shining; the sun of the Aarnivalkea, signaling to all that here was the realm of Christmas. It radiated a warmth of its own, that lifted the spirits and gave courage to all who looked upon it. And beneath it stretched Jouloutorni, the city of Christmas, not at all the candy cane realm of Western imagination, but rather a grand citadel built of ice and snow. Some of the ice was so old and so dark that it was a deep indigo, while others were bright blue or devoid of all color, like glass. All as immovable, as strong and as everlasting as stone.

Which is why Ilmari-Pekka’s heart had not quailed when the sentries on the uppermost towers had sounded the signal horns. They were never to be blown save in the case of an attack. And it had been nearly 80 years since the last goblin attack on the city. He had raced to the closest guard post, buckling on a sword which had hung on the wall for 80 years. As he ran, Karhu, the son of the Polar Bear who had fought alongside Ilmari-Pekka in the last goblin war, fell into stride beside him.

“Jump on my back,” Karhu had growled, and Ilmari-Pekka had clambered on. The bear put on speed, dodging around other elves who were racing through the corridors with weapons in hand.

Ilmari-Pekka jumped from Karhu’s back as they burst out into the open air on one of the city’s towers, facing to the East. His sharp eyes scanned the horizon, looking for the source of the attack.

“I see nothing,” he said to Karhu.

“I can smell them,” Karhu replied. “They are out on the Eastern wall…there is the smell of blood as well.”

Ilmari-Pekka was unsurprised by the bear’s sense of smell. Karhu’s kin were known to be able to scent blood for 100 miles. If he said there was blood out on the Eastern wall, then it was so.

“And I smell something else too,” Karhu said. “Black powder…small traces closer in…and further out…the Train is coming.”

“The Express?” Ilmari-Pekka wrinkled his forehead. The Train only came once a year…unless need dictated otherwise. Was that why the sentries had sounded the horns? No…it was the blood. They had seen something.

And then his heart did quail.

A great, cracking rending noise filled the sky. As elf and bear watched, an explosion of ice rent the glass surface of the frozen lake between the citadel and the wall. Huge white boulders flew into the air, and the water, trapped so far beneath, surged up in spraying geysers. The crack grew, slowly, inevitably tearing a chasm toward the city…

Episode 45: Finn at the Pole

2007-12-04T13:14:00.000-07:00

"All towers secure," Coll croaked to Finn. The way Coll's voice had sounded bothered Finn a great deal since they'd performed the necromantic ritual on the dead Leprechaun. But he supposed the way Coll sounded had more to do with the way his vocal chords were vibrating against the arrow shaft still lodged in his throat than it did with the fact that he was...dead. Technically, undead, but Finn had always felt that was a minor technicality. An issue of semantics really. If you weren't dead, you were alive, and Coll was not alive.

He was as cranky as he'd been alive, but now the whole issue was exacerbated by Coll's ability to see other dead people in the form of shades and ghosts. A depressing lot, who matched Coll's temperament a little too well. Coll had taken to mumbling to them, which made him seem like he was talking to himself.

They were standing on the outer wall of the North Pole, a great ring of glacial ice surrounding the city of lights at the top of the worlds. Finn smiled. Elves had no stomach for combat, not like Leprechauns. "The fighting Irish," he said to himself. His small team had been joined at the gateway to the worlds by the rest of their forces; they'd entered the clearing through the tree with a shamrock on it and then entered into the world of Christmas. Then, arriving at the North Pole, they had overwhelmed each of the towers, one by one, leaving behind a fireteam of Leprechauns to guard each one.

"It's true," Coll was saying. "A whole day in heels is murder."

The plan was going well, aside from a few minor setbacks. When he'd first felt the presence of the Tree's avatar in the world they'd be exiled to, Finn had visited the site, to find that the new guardian was allied to Order. It meant that those allied to Chaos, like Finn and his men, were barred from entrance to the Tree. They'd enlisted the aid of a succubus to gain them access, but she'd obviously bolloxed things. A pretty mess that had been, thinking they'd be walking into the Tree nice and easy, only to find the shop in ruins, the succubus and the doppelganger dead. Finn had needed to think quickly then; it had slowed them down by a day, having to put on the pretense of helping the boy.

Andrew. And then he'd mistaken them for his guides or guardians or some damn fool thing. Sent by three men. Their redcoats had been the key to that misunderstanding, and it had worked fine until the boy had become too curious for his own good, needed to look inside the box.

Thankfully he hadn't opened the box. If he'd gotten the hare out of the box...everything would have been undone. Or rather, it would have remained done. Finn's goal was for things to become undone. But they weren't here to frame the elves for the death, whatever Eostre might have thought. They were here because this was where they would drain the power from Dieter to destroy the North Pole once and for all. The essence of Spring thaw inside the hare, unleashed on this place would melt the ice and destroy the old man's works, his helpers, and bring an end to one more great symbol of Order in the world.

And that was all Chaos really needed to start things unraveling in the worlds where Father Christmas still held sway. The destruction of a symbol is the destruction of the thing, really. Finn knew that much. The fact that no one remembered red coat leprechauns anymore was proof. Order had sanctioned the exile of his order, effectively destroying it...now he was going to destroy one of theirs.

"Is the device ready?" he asked James, who was kneeling beside the box. Other leprechauns were bolting down a large machine gun to the tower and training the barrels on the distant twinkling lights. The guns were unnecessary; once the thaw began, they'd be entirely pointless, but the men enjoyed them. And it kept them focused on destruction without asking the question of what was going to happen to them all when the ice thawed.

"Very nearly," James replied, holding up a wicked looking needle attached to a narrow hose, which itself ran into a series of brass piping, gears and cylindrical tubes.

Finn grinned. Victory was at hand, and the only creatures in all of the worlds who knew what Finn was up to were worlds away. Nothing could stop him now.

"Train coming," Coll growled.

"A great spectral train filled with a mess of dead buggers?" Finn asked, tired of Coll's conversations with the dead.

"No. Real train. Coming from the south and steaming hard. A black train."

A black steamer? Finn spun about and saw it even as the sound of the steam engine reached his ears. There was only one train that could be making its way here. Now.

"No," he whispered. Well, let them come, whoever they were. And Finn suspected it was the boy. "Come along then Andrew," he said. "We've got a warm welcome for ye."

Episode 44: A Circle of Trees

2007-11-30T13:33:00.000-07:00

They walked out of the Deep Dark Woods into a clearing, ringed by trees which stood apart from the forest. Leaving Granny's house had been hard, but all of them understood that time was of the essence. The Leprechauns had a head start on them for the Pole, and while Eostre could have caught up with them by herself, even she agreed that such a strategy was foolhardy.

"What I still can't fathom is what they hope to accomplish by framing Father Christmas or his elves with the death of Dieter," John said, adjusting the straps of his backpack. He watched as the rest of the group entered the clearing and then swept his arm out in a grand gesture toward the ring of trees. There were twelve in all.

“Welcome to the gateway to the seven holy days,” John said.

On each of the twelve trees was a symbol, carved into the wood. In addition, not one tree was alike. There was a dead tree, its bark black, and its limbs twisted as though it were in agony. A jack-o-lantern was carved into its bark. Another tree was filled with buds of spring, which kept blooming and dropping petals even as they looked, leaving a multicolored carpet at the roots. The symbol carved onto it was a decorated Easter egg.

“That’s my tree,” Eostre said to Lara, who was grinning.

“This is the clearing where Jack Skellington came to…” Lara said.

“Well, his name isn’t Jack or Skellington,” John said. “But he is the Pumpkin King, and it is where the fellow with the messy hair and a penchant for black got the idea.”

"Tim Burton traveled the Tree?" Lara asked, unmasked surprise in her voice.

"A man with that much magic in his work," Charles said, "has almost always traveled the Tree.”

“Walt Disney?” Sunny asked.

Charles nodded. “Not enough, but he did travel. Enough for the magic to be in the work…but not enough…”

“For…?” Sunny raised her eyebrows.

“Let us not speak ill of the dead,” Charles said, and nodded to John. “You have the floor.”

“I came here many years ago,” John said. “And passed through that door.” He pointed to an evergreen tree, covered in holly and snow.

“What door?” Andrew asked.

“The trees are the door. And each has a different way of entering,” John said, approaching the evergreen. He pulled back a branch and then another, and Andrew could see that miraculously, they were parting, opening to allow John to enter. When he had pulled enough branches aside, he stepped through the opening and beckoned for the rest of them to follow. “This will take us where we need to go!”

“It’s where I got the idea for the Wardrobe, among other things,” Jack said with a wink, stepping past Andrew and into the opening.

One by one, the group walked through the opening. Andrew stood, waiting with Charles until everyone was through. As Charles stepped through the opening, Andrew caught movement out of the corner of his eye.

Stepping into the clearing was a man dressed in blue jeans, sandals, and a hooded knit sweater. He had long dark hair, a beard, and was clearly of Middle Eastern background.

“Shalom,” the man said, smiling at Andrew.

“Hi,” Andrew replied.

Two dogs stepped into the clearing from behind the man, a German Shepherd and a mixed breed who reminded Andrew of what he figured Snoopy would look like if he were a real dog.

“Just out for a walk,” the man said. “Taking these ladies further up the Tree.”

“Oh,” Andrew said. “Well, have a nice walk.”

“Already have,” the man replied. “I’d wish you the same, but I’m not sure it will all work out that way.”

The German Shepherd whined, and looked up at the man.

“Nala seems to think she could do you some good on your journey,” he said. “But sadly, those worlds aren’t for her or Patches anymore.” He patted Nala’s head. “Come on ladies.”

The three of them walked to the other side of the clearing and disappeared into the Deep Dark Woods. Andrew watched them go.

“Come on!” Lara called from the opening of the evergreen. “You really need to see this! It’s incredible!”

Andrew jumped at her voice, but quickly gathered himself and passed through the opening in the branches. Once he stepped through, John folded the branches back into place, closing the entrance.

On the other side, the place where John had reset the branches was on the sole Evergreen on top of a high mountain. All around them, for as far as Andrew could see, were mountains. The sky was dark, but a clear winter’s night, filled with sprays of constellations and a full moon, a silver disc hung on a black curtain. Deep powdery snow covered everything in sight.

“Incredible,” Andrew breathed.

“Listen!” Blackout said, and they all turned in the direction of a noise growing steadily louder.

It was the sound of a train, approaching along a set of tracks that ran along the steep mountain, and down into a deep valley.

“I suppose you’re going to tell me this is the Polar Express,” Ripper said derisively to no one in particular.

“Seeing is believing,” Jack said with that mischievous grin. “All aboard!” he shouted as a great black steam engine pulled into view, the beam of its light cutting through the night like a sword.

Episode 43: Better than sex

2007-11-28T15:11:00.000-07:00

Lara was an extremely sensual woman. Not in the way that Andrew had been considering Silke to be sensual, in that front-cover-of-Cosmopolitan style of sensuality. Rather, Lara's sensuality was simply that she appreciated her senses, and since all of them were in perfect working order, she felt that it would be somehow ungrateful to the Goddess to ignore them. This is not to say that she over-indulged her senses, as real world Satanists are wont to do; for Lara, the seven deadly sins still seemed rather deadly. She just really enjoyed how things felt, smelled, looked, sounded and in the case of Granny's breakfast, tasted. She had never tasted anything so amazing in her life. And considering how her cigarette smoking had dulled her taste buds, that was really saying something.

If this was the magic she had come to learn, she was ready to sign up.

Granny and Eostre had discussed the matter over breakfast while Andrew and Silke continued to engage in a clumsy dance of socializing not merely cross-culturally, but cross-ontology. It's difficult enough to understand the differences in genders, let alone one from a world where chivalry and romance are not only not dead, but are likely living entities walking around somewhere nearby. The three older men had left the table to prepare for the coming journey. Her own crew of adventurers milled about the meadow, loading up packs, sharpening weapons, fixing arrow fletchings, and trading friendly banter.

Lara kept silent while the hare and the old woman spoke. She could tell that this was serious business, whatever she might hope about cosmically improving her baking skills. Finally Granny nodded at Eostre and turned to Lara.

"You're certainly right about the amount of power in the girl," Granny said, looking her over appraisingly. "If she can learn to harness it, that alone will be impressive enough. But if she learns how to draw upon the other energies around her..." She arched an eyebrow and looked at Lara knowingly. "There's no time to lose. Her training begins today. And whatever you might think about her safety Eostre, she needs to make the trip to the Pole, if for no other reason than to talk to Kris."

Eostre opened her mouth to object, but Granny cut in. "If my presence can't assure you of her safety, then nothing can. But if the Fates have indeed made her one of their own, then she is tied to the Tree like the boy is. And the fate of the Tree might well be dictated at the Pole."

Eostre nodded. "I think I knew all these things before coming here," she said. "But I also knew she needed a teacher."

Granny stood up from the table. "This one," she said, gesturing at Lara. "Needs only a push in the right direction. The rest should come naturally. For her, the issue won't be what to do with the power, it will be accepting that she has power. You can see in her face she doesn't really believe any of this is true."

"I think it would be more accurate to say I believe it's too good to be true," Lara said.

"So you have a tongue," Granny smiled. "And there's no difference in how disbelief affects us, regardless of its why. But a demonstration never hurts. Let's see what we can do about Eostre's broken tooth, shall we?"

She beckoned Lara to rise and come to the other side of the table. Lara hesistated a moment, then joined Granny standing beside the hare, her wrinkled hands on either side of Eostre's face. Eostre had pulled back her lips to bare her front teeth. The broken tooth was snapped off beneath the gum line in a jagged ridge.

"Do you think you can do anything about this?" Granny asked Lara.

"I wouldn't know where to start," Lara replied.

"That's a good answer," Granny replied. "The starting point is within you...and I can help you to look for it, but not with finding it." She released Eostre's face. "I want you to stand as I was, holding Eostre's face in your hands. For healing, contact is essential."

Lara took Granny's spot beside Eostre and placed her hands on the great hare's face.

"Now close your eyes and concentrate on your breathing," Granny said. "Feel the breath rushing into you...and filling you, and then releasing it...you are breathing in everything surrounding you. You are breathing in the fabric of this world...you are connected to it through your breathing. You are connected to the roots of the Tree in this world, and thus into all worlds..."

Granny's voice intoned on, but instead of hearing them, Lara was seeing the words...no, not the words, the very things themselves. The words were only constructions, means of understanding the things, but as Granny spoke of the roots of the Tree, Lara could see those roots, the branches, the great trunk all in her mind's eye. She could feel the sap rising in the Tree, flowing through it like blood through her veins...and then came the realization that the sap was the blood flowing through her -- there was no barrier between them; there never had been, save for her lack of awareness.

Now that she was aware, she allowed the sap to flow through her, and out into her hands, and then into Eostre. A warm golden glow enveloped her vision, and her body tingled as though a honey liqueur were rushing through her. The warmth spread, and it was ecstasy; not like orgasm, but something greater, something higher than mere sexual pleasure. This was above sensuality. It was spiritual.

She could hear Granny's voice faintly, saying, "Good, good, now return your focus to the breathing...and when you're ready...open your eyes."

Deep breaths of fresh, sweet air were pulled deliberately, deliciously and slowly into her lungs, and then exhaled. Finally, Lara opened her eyes to see Eostre smiling at her, the broken tooth made whole...a new tooth, whiter than the one next to it.

"Thank you," Eostre said.

"You did well," Granny said, placing a hand on Lara's shoulder. "Better than I expected. It was simply a nudge that was needed. You'll learn fast."

"It was incredible," Lara said quietly. "I've never felt anything like it. Is it always so...?" Words failed her

"Let's put it this way," Granny replied with a mischievous grin. "If you've never faked it before, you will now."

Episode 42: The Gang's all here...

2007-11-27T09:16:00.000-07:00

The conversation turned to planning how to catch up with the Redcoats, what the strategy would be for engaging them in combat, followed by wistful reminiscences of past adventures the three men had shared. Charles was speaking about something to do with Aleister Crowley, but Andrew's mind was elsewhere. He felt far too much like Bilbo Baggins and not enough like Conan the Barbarian to be of any use.

Guardian of the Tree? he thought. I never asked for this! I didn't ask to be given such a responsibility... The Bilbo Baggins part of him wished to be at home, sitting on the couch with a large bowl of popcorn, a couple of chewy cola bottle candies and a lime-coke slush, watching the new Battlestar Galactica on DVD. And while you're watching your shows of bravery, courage and heroism, you'll be wishing you could do something genuinely great instead of escaping from all the failures of the past few years.

That's what he'd been doing, for certain. He'd always run from the last mistake by diving into a new endeavor. New endeavors were fresh; they didn't have the broken, fragmented nature of the failed ones. As soon as the new endeavor went sour, he left it behind for a new one. He was the same in relationships. The newness of the first dates, revealing only the parts of himself that would attract the girl to him, the excitement of the physical progression from hand holding to kissing, to foreplay to sex was intoxicating. Maintaining a relationship was a pain in the ass.

Like caring for the Bonsai Tree from his grandfather.

The little tree hadn't withered because Andrew lacked any skill in plant care. It was because he lacked skill in ongoing plant care. He lacked skill in anything ongoing. When circumstances got too messy or too tough, it was time to run. Running away from girlfriends by running to new ones. Running away from disillusionment in one department of the University by running to another one. Running from the failure of the coffee shop by giving the deposit away. Running into the arms of the succubus, and in doing so, nearly running away forever. And finally, running from the Tree by running into it. That was the strangest of all. Trying to run away from the responsibility of being the Tree's guardian by running deeper inside it.

It was time to stop running. Time to stand. Stand and defend the Tree.

But I don't know how.

"What did you say?" Silke asked. Andrew realized he'd spoken his thought out loud.

"I don't know how to be a guardian of the Tree," Andrew replied. "I wasn't given a set of instructions for the job; I don't understand what I'm supposed to do."

"None of the guardians have, for quite some time," Granny said, overhearing Andrew. "The instructions were passed along in an oral tradition, from guardian to guardian. Each guardian would choose one or more apprentices and pass the tradition along to them. Nothing was written down, for fear of the writings falling into the wrong hands. And then, an entire generation of guardians and nearly all their apprentices were assassinated at a gathering of the guardians...those who survived went into hiding, and broke all ties. Much of the lore of the Tree was lost. It's why traveling the Tree can be so dangerous."

"Who taught you?" Andrew asked.

"My Aunt Jewelynn," Granny replied. "In this world, the guardians of the Tree has been a matriarchal order."

"And in mine?" Andrew asked.

"You're the first guardian of the Tree in close to half a century," Granny said. "The last guardian was a young professor from Oxford." She smiled at John when she said this, but John pretended to ignore her. "But he died before completing his writing on the Tree, and the way was shut. Until now."

"There was talk of a tome that was created by one of the guardians in the nineteenth century, but no one has ever seen it," John said. "Many think it's a legend."

"I thought Leprechauns and the Easter bunny were legends before all this," Andrew said. "I'm beginning to think anything is possible."

"Speaking of Eostre," Granny said, looking over Andrew's shoulder, "Here she comes now, with our other guests."

Andrew looked over his shoulder and blinked twice. Walking around the corner of the house toward the assembled breakfasters was what appeared to be a rabbit well over six feet tall loping alongside Lara, who looked like a cross between a manic survivalist and Morticia Adams, and Blackout, Ripper, Sunny and Courtney looking like Mountain Equipment Co-op had merged with an armory. He leaped up from the table and shouted Lara's name.

"Andrew!" she called back, a look of surprise on her face.

"What are you doing here?" Andrew asked.

"I'm here to rescue you!" she said with a smile.

"You're a little short for a stormtrooper," Andrew replied.

"And you make a terrible princess in distress," Lara said.

"But what about the rent?" Andrew said, "I thought you were going to pay it with the Leprechaun gold."

"It turned into chocolate coins after you left with those little bastards," Lara explained. "Don't worry about the rent. Eostre sent a tooth fairy to pay it."

"I'm not even going to ask what the hell that means," Andrew said. "Wait--if this is Eostre, then who the hell do the leprechauns have in that big box?"

"Her husband," Lara replied. "Eostre, this is Andrew. Andrew, meet the Easter bunny."

"Hare," Eostre corrected, loping towards the table to embrace Granny.

"She's pretty touchy on that one," Lara told Andrew. "So you either killed all the Leprechauns single-handedly or escaped. I'm guessing the second."

"I mostly fell down and that girl there," Andrew pointed at Silke, "rescued me. So if you're here to rescue me, then why aren't you following the leprechauns?"

"Eostre seems to think I've got some magical abilities I'm unaware of, and she wants the old lady there--"

"Granny."

"--to teach me how to use the magic."

Andrew looked over at the table with its motley assortment of legendary and historical figures gathered around food worthy of a Brian Jacques novel, and shook his head.

"I keep thinking I'm going to wake up and find out this is all a dream," he said.

"If I wake up and find out this is all a dream, I'm going to be cosmically pissed off," Lara said. "I've been waiting my whole life for some real magic. At any rate, I hope neither of us wakes up before I get to have some of those waffles."

Episode 41: Guardians of the Tree

2007-11-26T13:15:00.000-07:00

Andrew whirled and looked up at Jack, John, and Charles, standing in the golden sunlight, smiling at him. Well, John and Jack were smiling. Charles was frowning as usual.

Jack lifted a cloth from a basket filled with bread as Granny approached the table. "Not waiting for our guests?" she asked.

"If I wait for them," Jack replied, "Neither the pup nor I will get anything to eat." He winked at Andrew.

"The pup's name is Andrew," Granny said with only a light scolding and embraced each of the men in greeting. She whispered something to Charles and to Andrew's surprise, he smiled.

Jack looked up from spreading butter on his bread to see a lithe figure with a head of golden hair step from the house.

"Silke!" Jack shouted. She returned his smiles, flashing impossibly white teeth, and danced lightly across the lawn, laughing and acting in a manner that made Andrew doubt this was the same girl who had killed Coll so easily the night before. She was dressed in a light shift that covered her to mid-thigh; her bare legs shone golden in the sunlight.

"She is a vision, isn't she?" Charles said, standing at Andrew's elbow. Andrew suddenly realized he was unabashedly staring at Silke and turned his head down to study the food on his plate.

"Apparently not as beautiful as bacon and eggs," Jack grinned.

"Don't mind ," Granny said. "He enjoys having fun with our guests. And it's been a long time since we've had anyone here near Silke's age."

"What are you two talking about?" Silke said, coming up to the table and sitting down beside Andrew. Andrew felt the blood rise to his cheeks and ears again. "I could have sworn I heard my name."

"I was just telling Andrew here how long it's been since we had anyone near your age here in the valley," Granny said.

Andrew mustered his courage to get back into the conversation. "I thought you said you were part of an order...are none of them your age?" he asked.

Silke's face grew dark, her smile vanishing suddenly. Andrew looked over at Granny, a look of confusion on his face. Granny gave Andrew a sympathetic look.

"I'm the last of the Rotkäppchen," Silke said.

"I'm sorry," Andrew said.

"You couldn't have known,' Silke said, getting her composure back. She looked up at Andrew and gave him a smile.

"So this is the newest guardian of the Tree," Granny said, appraising Andrew.

Jack nodded. "He doesn't look like much, does he? But neither did Tollers when he was given the job."

"I think you've got the wrong guy," Andrew said. "I'm not the guardian of the Tree."

"Yes you are," Silke said. "That's why Jack sent me to rescue you."

Andrew sat, feeling uncomfortable. "Growing the Tree was an accident. I didn't mean for it to happen."

"Perhaps the Tree did," Granny said.

"And technically speaking, you didn't grow the Tree," John said, filling his plate with bacon and eggs. "The Tree exists outside the worlds. It was here before the worlds were made, and as each was spoken into existence, it became like a piece of fruit upon the Tree."

Andrew nodded, "The Garden of Forking Paths. But what is the Tree in my coffee shop?"

"A manifestation of the Tree within a world always appears as a full tree itself. Or a bush. Or a huge beanstalk,"John said.

"But we're getting off the matter at hand John," Jack said. "It isn't really accurate to say you're the Guardian of the Tree Andrew. It might be better to say you are a Guardian of the Tree. Each manifestation of the Tree requires a Guardian. It's almost always the person who plants the seeds for the Tree's avatar."

"That's what Granny is in this world," Silke said. "And it's what you are in your world."

"And it's why you're going to help us stop the Redcoats, before they start a fire that could burn the whole tree to ashes," John said, his face a grim mask of determination. "Would someone pass the blackberries please?"

Images: Patchik the Tooth Fairy

2007-11-23T14:38:00.000-07:00

Patchik, the Tooth Fairy (one of many) from episode 38, has been rendered very nicely at the Blank Page. Here's the finished picture, but if you check out the post, there are development sketches as well.

Episode 40: To Grandmother's House We Go

2007-11-22T14:49:00.000-07:00

Running. The trees were simply different types of shadow, shadow that sometimes struck Andrew in the face, made the running difficult, made it hard to see Silke's form up ahead, her cloak blending into the shadows that could be trees, could be just shadows. His legs had gone beyond ache, and the burning in his throat was so constant that it transcended irritation. They had run through several shallow creeks, but Silke had told him not to drink any water they found in the deep dark woods.

"How can every stream be poisonous?" Andrew had asked after they crossed the third.

"They're not all poisonous. Some will kill you, for certain. Others cause a lifelong slumber, others make you happy, some make you physically strong, some make you...how would you say it...very excited...sexually. And there's supposedly one that grants eternal life. The trouble is, water looks like water. There's no way of knowing until you drink it."

Now that would make one hell of a coffee blend, Andrew thought. The coffee tastes like a homeless person's clothing, but now I can lift a car over my head.

She gave him short drinks from her water flask from time to time, but it was clear that she was far more used to going long distance running without hydrating than he was. His feet formed blisters, his calves got shin splints, and then his upper thighs started cramping. It was only when he'd fallen asleep while walking and nearly collapsed that they reached Silke's goal.

Andrew was too weary to see clearly where they were going, but he could clearly see a rope ladder descending down through an opening in the foliage. As he descended, the sensation of the closeness of the Tree's dense dark forest gave way to a feeling of wide open space. He tried to see where they were, but it was night here. The moon was a barely present sickle of silver carving it's way delicately into the night sky. Unlike the interior of the Tree though, here there were stars.

Wherever they were, it wasn't the North Pole. The air was warm, like the best summer's nights when it's just warm enough to be out without a coat, and cool enough that you need to wear something longer than shorts. There was a slight wind blowing, and he could hear leaves and boughs rustling and swaying.

When he reached the bottom of the ladder, it was unexpected, and he stumbled a bit. Strong hands caught him, and a male voice filled with warmth said, "Rest easy now son."

Andrew tried to look up, but all he could see was the outline of three figures against the night sky, looking down at him.

"I see you found our lost pup," a deep voice that sounded familiar said as Silke clambered down the rope ladder.

"Just in time," she replied. "Any longer and the Redcoats would have killed him."

"I'm Andrew," Andrew slurred.

"I know," the deep voice said, and Andrew was lifted off his feet.

Andrew fell asleep momentarily, only to awaken at the creak of a door opening, and he had a vague impression of orange light...firelight...the sound of logs crackling in the hearth, then drowsing again, then waking as he was lowered onto a large soft surface...a bed?...and then an encompassing tranquility, a sensation of falling into a comforting oblivion.

* * * * * * * *

He woke to sunlight streaming in through the window of his room. It was a vibrant, quickening light, diffused only slightly by the transparent curtains which blew in a slight breeze in front of a narrow, open window. Andrew rubbed his eyes and surveyed his surroundings.

The bed was an old wooden four poster, intricately carved with images from nearly every fairy tale Andrew could recall. There was Little Red Riding Hood, and Goldilox and the Three Bears, and Rapunzel, and on and on, weaving around the wooden columns. Beyond the bed, the room was done in a half-timbered style, with cream-colored plaster in between the frames, old style wattle-and-daub. The ceiling was high, and steeply pitched. Andrew felt like he was in one of the fairy tales on the posts.

But you are, he laughed to himself.

He moved to get out of bed and groaned at the pain and soreness in his legs. Gritting his teeth, he swung himself out of the bed and stood up. His, coat, shoes and socks had been removed, but he still wore the rest of his clothes, covered in dirt and grime from the race through the Deep Dark Woods. He winced as he looked at the beautiful white sheets he'd been sleeping on, now soiled.

He opened the door and walked into a hallway. He could hear voices and laughter, and followed in their direction. He passed through a large sitting room, where the embers of a fire still glowed in the hearth. More sunlight streamed through multiple windows in this room. The voices and laughter were closer, and Andrew passed through a large wooden door into a world flooded with gold and green.

He was standing in a verdant meadow, surrounded on all sides by sloping hills covered in brush and tree. Tall grass swayed in the light breeze, and warm sunlight fell upon his face, from a sun more vibrant and golden than any he'd ever seen before. And he could see it. He wasn't blinded by it's light, but merely held in rapture at it's beauty.

"Good morning!" a female voice called to him.

Andrew looked to his right, to see a table set with food and drink; seated behind it was an elderly woman who was smiling. "Breakfast is still hot, if you're hungry."

Andrew's stomach reminded him that he was indeed, hungry. He limped slowly over to the table.

"I'm Andrew," Andrew said, holding out his hand.

"I'm Dorothea Evangeline," the woman replied. She stood and walked around the table, not the bent or tired gait of a senior citizen, but that of a woman strong and healthy, in her prime. Her diminutive frame belied such vigor. She took his hand and shook it. "But everyone just calls me Granny. And you'll need to wash those before you eat," indicating his hands. She pointed over to a water barrel at the side of the house.

Andrew turned to survey the house. It was a massive Tudor-style structure, with additions running off in all directions. Andrew could see that further back there was a second floor. He walked to the barrel, washed his hands up to his elbows, splashed his neck and face and returned to the table.

"You can get properly cleaned up once you've eaten," Granny said. "I've got some herbs that added to the water that should set you right as rain."

Andrew looked about the table. It was like someone had taken the photos from a breakfast menu, the photos that made you think a plate piled high with waffles and 'seasonal fruit' would be truly delightful, but the waffles were always slightly burnt, the whipped cream was out of a pressurized can, and the fruit was bruised and sometimes still a little frozen. This food looked like the pictures. The whipped cream was real cream. The waffles were as golden as the sun's light. The fruit was not only in season, but larger than any Andrew had seen before. The bacon was crisp, but not too crisp, with hardly any fat on it. There was orange juice...and the coffee...the smell was delightful.

"It tastes better than it looks," Granny said.

"I find that hard to believe," Andrew replied.

"Never know until you try," Granny smiled.

Andrew started filling a plate. "Where is Silke?" he asked.

"Still asleep," Granny replied. "She'd been out on patrol for several days and was on her way home when the Tree summoned her to come find you."

Andrew stopped chewing the piece of bacon he'd placed in his mouth in surprise. If that's how she ran when she was dead tired...

He looked over the long table, heavily laden with food and wondered at the spread Granny had laid out. Why had the old lady prepared such a feast? Was she expecting more?

"I heard voices and laughter as I was coming out," he said, but was interrupted by a deep voice from behind him.

"A meal fit for a king...or maybe a hobbit, wouldn't you say Tollers?"

Episode 39: Girl Talk 2

2007-11-21T16:26:00.000-07:00

"Wake up," Eostre said softly into Lara's ear.

Lara protested the intrusion upon her slumber. Eostre nudged her gently. "I need to speak with you a bit before the others wake."

Lara snuggled up against the rabbit's soft fur. "I thought the sun would be up by now," Lara said as she opened her eyes with a yawn.

"There is no sun inside the Tree," Eostre replied. "Or stars. What is above us here is not sky. It is the Tree," and she motioned to the darkness of the surrounding of forest, as she stood up. She yawned noisily, then bent over double, resting her front paws on the ground and stretching out her hind legs. They had slept curled up against each other, which had made sleeping on the ground much more comfortable, for Lara at least. Lara imagined that she hadn't improved Eostre's rest at all, while Lara had been reminded of sleeping with a giant plush animal she'd had as a child.

Lara had to stifle a laugh at the sight of the rabbit...no, hare, Lara thought, Eostre had made it quite clear that she was a hare, not a rabbit..."None of my kind have ever been domesticated," she had said...we remain wild...the sight of the hare, as she stretched out her hind legs. Taller than a human, Eostre's back legs were likely stronger than a kangaroo's.

"How fast can you run?" Lara asked, watching Eostre shake one of her hind legs out of the stretch.

"I don't know exactly," Eostre replied, coming out of her stretch and massaging her legs. "I've never measured my speed. But I can outrun human land vehicles in your realm."

"My realm?" Lara asked, standing up and stretching as well. "You mean Earth?"

"No. Earth is only one world of your realm."

"You mean universe," Lara said.

"That is how you would say it," Eostre said. "Whatever word you use, it is one of many such places the Tree encompasses and enfolds."

"I don't understand," Lara said. "You mean to say traveling the Tree could take us to an entirely other universe?"

"Yes," Eostre replied. "Such as the one I'm from."

"You're not from my universe?"

"I'm from one of the realms," Eostre emphasized the word meaningfully, "A few branches over from the one which carries yours."

"But your actions still govern the weather systems in our world?"

"Only because of ancient pacts made between the realms, alliances made in order to keep the realms from warring with each other," Eostre said. "I've begun to wonder if that isn't what the Redcoats are about."

"You think all of what they're doing is about starting war between your realm and ours?" Lara's head spun.

"Could be. Or it could be a warlord from an entirely other realm, merely seeking to begin conflict. There are always people who profit from war, so they seek to ignite the flames of conflict for their gain." Eostre had been rooting through the grasses at the edge of the path, and seeming to have found what she sought, straightened up. She was holding something that looked like an acorn.

"I'd normally crack this myself," she said, extending it to Lara, "but my mouth still pains me awfully."

"I have something for that," Lara said, taking the acorn. "I mean the pain. And now that I think about it, I have something for the acorn as well."

Lara gave 4 aspirin to Eostre and then cracked the acorn open with her hammer. She took the seed and gave it to Eostre, who broke it in half and returned a portion to Lara.

"These are more than enough food for the day," Eostre said.

"Are they magic?" Lara asked.

"They are part of the Tree," Eostre said. "But the Tree is more than simply magic. I'm surprised you know so little about magic, given how much power you carry inside you."

Lara stopped from biting into the seed and shot a look at Eostre. "Power? What do you mean?"

"You carry a great deal of your realm's magic in you," Eostre said. "I can smell it on you. And it's not power you stole. It is your own."

"But I've tried to do magic," Lara said. "It's one of the first things you're expected to do as a wiccan. But nothing happened."

"Mechanics," Eostre said. "Alchemy and ritual. That's not magic, it's manipulation. Magic is...deeper. More intimate. But you are unaware of yours..." She stopped, as if thinking. "That is likely why the Fates chose you as a sister. And it is why we are going to Grandmother's house before we look for your friend."

"Why?"

"We need to go somewhere you can learn what to do with this power," Eostre replied. "And I believe Grandmother can teach you what you need to know."

Episode 38: Here's the Easter Bunny, hooray!

2007-11-20T13:05:00.000-07:00

Lara stared, incredulous at the nearly six foot tall rabbit currently standing in the entrance to the coffee shop. There was matted blood all over the fur on her chin, and Lara could see she was missing one of her front teeth. There was something perched on her shoulder, but in the shadows Lara couldn't identify what it was.

"You escaped from the North Pole?" was all she could think to say.

"I was never at the North Pole," Eostre replied. "And if you know that much about the Redcoats' plan, then I need to know--are you friends or foes?" The thing on the rabbit's shoulder moved, and it seemed to Lara that it was tensing up, as if getting ready to pounce.

"Friend," Lara said. "I think."

"You think," Eostre said, her voice laced with caution, her pink eyes roving over the group. "I tracked the Redcoats, and their trail stops here. I assume that tree behind you is an axis mundi."

"I'm not much of a botanist, but I was thinking it was an ash," Geo replied, trying to helpful. Lara was shocked at how calm he sounded.

"An axis mundi isn't a type of tree, it's the tree from which all types find their source," Eostre explained disdainfully. "And we aren't friends yet, so enough of this chit-chat."

Lara drew herself up, and taking a deep breath said, "I'm guessing by the Redcoats you mean the Leprechauns. We're no friend of theirs, I can tell you that much. Our friend is with them, and I believe his life is in danger. We were just about to enter the Tree and try following them."

"So one of you is a Pathfinder," Eostre said.

"I don't know what you mean," Lara replied.

"Not a Pathfinder and yet ready to brave traveling the Tree," Eostre said, her eyebrows raised appraisingly. "Brave or stupid."

"I'd like to think both," Lara said with a smile.

Eostre smiled back. "You have something about you I trust," she said, indicating Lara. "It seems we will walk two paths together, you and I. One to find the Redcoats, and the other to see if we will be friends in the truest sense of the word."

"Does it strike anyone else as utterly bizarre that we're talking to the Easter bunny?" Ripper asked suddenly. There was an awkward silence.

"Are you a Pathfinder?" Lara asked, breaking the silence. Once again everything was happening so suddenly that she felt she needed to ask a least one question of this creature who she'd assumed was trapped at the North Pole up until a few moments ago.

"No," Eostre replied. "But I can sense where the Redcoats are, or at the very least, where my husband is."

"Your husband? I suppose that would be...who? Peter Rabbit?" Ripper asked, trying to keep from laughing. Courtney punched him in the shoulder.

"Dieter," Eostre corrected. "They kidnapped him and took him along to the Pole. I was kept hostage in a warehouse downtown."

"What did they want with your husband?" Lara asked.

"They want to frame him for the attack on the elves," Eostre said. "They intend on wiping out Santa's elves, killing Dieter, and leaving his corpse as a testament to the attack."

"What can they possibly gain from doing that?" Lara asked. "Why wouldn't they take your body to the Pole to frame the elves' for your kidnapping?"

"I'm insurance," Eostre said. "They kept me in the event something went wrong. They could hold the powers of the world ransom with the northern hemisphere in perpetual winter. If the attack succeeded, the Redcoats guarding me would have killed me, brought my body to the Pole and that would have been the end of it all. But I escaped, killed the guards, and followed the Redcoats' trail here."

"Then I guess there's no time to lose," Lara said. "I suppose you should lead the way."

Eostre nodded and walked across the shop to the ladder. "The Tree is new," she commented.

"A little over a month old," Lara replied. And then it suddenly occurred to her. "Can the Tree be harmed?"

Eostre looked back at her. The thing on her shoulder had shifted into the shadows again. "Of course it can. That's why a guardian is always assigned to it. Are you the guardian?"

"I think I'm kind of like one of the Fates," Lara replied. "But I'm not totally sure."

"The Fates," Eostre said. "Are they here?"

"They're out at a Dixie Chicks concert...they said they'd be back by now."

"Typical of the Fates," Eostre said. "Not terribly reliable. Makes people wonder why bad things happen and all that. So who is the guardian, if you're not?"

"I think my boss is," Lara replied. "So the tree can be damaged?"

"Absolutely," Eostre said.

"And what happens to us if it gets hacked down while we're still inside?"

"We would perish for certain," Eostre said.

"Then one of us has to stay back," Lara said. Eostre inclined her head quizzically. "There was an attempt to harm the tree just recently. I'm worried it will happen again. Plus, if we're gone too long and there's no one to pay the rent...the shop will likely be repossessed...and there's no telling what would happen to the tree."

"You need money?" Eostre asked.

Lara nodded.

"How much money?"

"Andrew said it was $3600."

Eostre looked down at the thing on her shoulder, and turned her shoulder toward the light. Lara gasped. Someone swore again.

The creature reminded her of an armadillo, with the series of ivory colored plates all along it's round body, but it was nearly spherical, aside from a bloody bony fin jutting from the top of it's back.

"Pachik?" Eostre said gently. And at her voice, just like an armadillo, it stretched out it's body. Lara could see better that what she had thought were bony plates were teeth. Dark eyes looked at her from underneath a ridge of incisors. It opened a ridiculously large mouth, which was filled sharklike, row upon row, with human teeth. Lara gaped.

"A tooth fairy," Eostre explained.

"That's the fucking tooth fairy?" Ripper exclaimed. "It looks like a cheeseball that got rolled through someone's dentures." This time Courtney kneed him in the thigh, giving him a charley horse. He dropped into the chair behind him, holding his leg and wincing.

"Pachik came to collect my tooth when I broke it off, and I asked him to do me a favor instead of leaving me money. I got him to rip through my restraints. Pachik," Eostre said turning her head toward the tooth fairy again, "I need you to do my another favor, for which I will repay you. I need you to take money to the place this girl sends you, in the amount she writes down for you."

Pachik snorted and leaped down from Eostre's shoulder onto the coffee bar. It skittered across the counter, it's little claws clicking on the hard suface. Lara jumped as it got close to her.

"Don't be afraid," Eostre said. "Just tell him where to take the money, and how much to take."

Lara spoke the address and amount to Pachik, who immediately rolled into a ball again, and launched himself off the counter to roll across the floor to the door. By the time he'd reached the door he was rolling too fast to be seen, and simply slipped through the door's surface and was gone.

"So that's what the tooth fairy looks like," Sunny said.

"A tooth fairy," Eostre said. "There are many. But yes, not quite what your parents' speak of. Just imagine if children knew the truth? Who would ever wish to give up a tooth to invite one of those into your home? But they're mainly peaceful creatures. With access to huge caches of change."

"He's going to pay $3600 in change?"

Eostre nodded and laughed. "Beggars can never be choosers child."

"I'm Lara," Lara said, extending her hand.

Eostre shook it. "It's time to go now Lara. Are you ready?"

"No," Lara said. "But I'm not sure I ever will be."

"You said someone needed to stay...to guard the Tree," Geo said in his halting, slow manner of speaking. Lara wondered how anyone would stay awake through a lecture on Math by this man.

"Yes," she said.

"Mikey and I will stay," Geo said. "We will take turns guarding the Tree."

"What?" Mikey exclaimed. "I'm going along!"

"No way," Blackout said softly. "You're staying here. We don't need your disappearance attracting more attention to the Tree."

Mikey stared at Blackout in defiance, then mumbled a "fine" and turned away. Blackout shook his head and looked up at Lara, who was handing her keys to the shop to Geo.

"I think it's time we got going," Blackout said.

"Yes, I think so," she replied, smiling at him. He raised his eyebrows in surprise, and Lara giggled a little. If his eyebrows could have crawled off the top of his head, Lara was sure they would have.

"Off to the North Pole!" Ripper shouted dramatically.

"Not just yet," Eostre said. "First, we have a stop to make...at Grandmother's house."

And with that, they ascended into the tree, leaving the shop in darkness.

Episode 37: Sam Gamgee was no fool

2007-11-19T21:16:00.001-07:00

Lara looked up at the Tree. With the sun down now, the shop was dark, save for blue glow of the LED lantern sitting on the coffee bar. It cast ghostly cerulean beams over the surface of the Tree, making the dark entrance Andrew and the Leprechauns had passed through even more threatening.

It had been nearly 24 hours since she'd discovered the Leprechaun's deception.

The late breakfast with Courtney, Blackout, Ripper and Sunny had been surreal. She'd told them what she knew, and there had been some debate on Ripper's part as to whether or not the chocolate coins were a sign of diabolical intent or just fairy mischief. Courtney had voted for erring on the side of caution, and both Blackout and Sunny had agreed with her. Ripper had shrugged his shoulders.

"I'm not saying we shouldn't go after them," he said, taking a drink of orange juice. "Hell, I've been waiting for someone to come and tell me there's an open portal to another world since I first read The Fionavar Tapestry. I just never figured it would be a barista."

They'd agreed to split up into a few groups to go and collect the gear they'd need for the journey, and meet at the coffee shop by 6:00pm.

As they stepped out of the High Level Diner, Courtney handed Lara a piece of paper.

"What's this?" Lara asked, unfolding it.

"Your essentials for a trip like this," Courtney replied.

"You've given this a lot of thought," Lara said.

"We all have," Blackout said, looking over Lara's shoulder to check the list. Lara felt a little shiver of excitement at how close he was standing, and suppressed it.

This is no time for your love life, she told herself.

"We'd talk about it over drinks after gaming sessions," he told her. "Idle conversation to pass the time. I never actually imagined it would turn out to have practical merit."

Lara had caught a ride with Sunny, who was the only one of the group with a car. Blackout was waiting for Geo, the other member of their gaming group to come and pick him up and give him a lift.

The girls had gone first to Sunny's house; she rented a bungalow with some other med students. Lara stood outside having a cigarette, studying the list while Sunny collected her things. It was very basic:

Camping Clothes (don't forget a change of underwear!)
Light Camping Gear
Backpack
Rope (Sam Gamgee was no fool)
A Weapon (hand-to-hand and missile)
Food
Toiletries (bad breath is inexcusable in any world!)

When Sunny was finished, they hurried to Lara's sister's place. Lara had been staying with her sister and husband since she'd moved to the city. She asked Sunny if she wanted to come in, and Sunny said she'd be fine to wait in the car.

"Who knows when I'll have the opportunity to listen to Jon Mayer again?" she said with a wistful smile.

"You don't seem as excited about all this as the others," Lara said.

"I'm still trying to wrap my head around it," Sunny replied. "Plus...if you're right about all this, then there's going to be fighting...and people are going to get hurt. I could be one of them. So I'm a little scared."

"Glad to know I'm not the only one," Lara said with a smile, and ran into the house.

Neither her sister Denise nor her husband Robwere home. There was a note on the table.

Went to see the Dixie Chicks perform. Back late. Dinner's in the fridge.

She'd hurried to her room and threw off her clothes, then changed into a pair of army pants, a tank top and an old, heavy cotton hooded sweatshirt. Heavy wool socks borrowed from Rob's drawer, and then she was strapping on the army boots.

Good for stomping...leprechauns.

Then it was out to the garage. Rob's compound bow and quiver were the first order of business. As soon as Courtney had mentioned a compound bow, she'd envisioned the one Rob used for hunting. Then a pair of work gloves, like Courtney had recommended.

Her eyes darted about the garage for a formidable weapon for close up work. She decided on Rob's claw hammer. She seemed to remember Mel Gibson blocking a sword with a hammer in Braveheart. The hard metal and easy balance felt good in her hand, and she threw it and some rope and an old sleeping bag into a framepack. The sleeping bag had been hiding an LED lantern, which she tested before clipping onto the outside of the pack.

Back inside the house, she added a bottle of aspirin. Sunny was right; she anticipated getting the shit kicked out of her at some point in this venture, and while Sunny was studying medicine, she sort of doubted she'd just magically heal her sorry ass if she got hurt bad. She also threw in a toothbrush and toothpaste. There was really nothing she hated worse than having that "sweaters on your teeth" feeling a few days without brushing would bring. Bad Breath is inexcusable in any world, she reminded herself.

A pack of smokes. Two lighters. Three water bottles. Her digital camera (after all, if she made it back, she'd want a record of her adventures), her i-pod (she didn't have any Jon Mayer, but maybe Sunny would be into some Lacuna Coil), her makeup, a box of lid-care wipes, and some feminine hygiene products, extra underwear and she was on her way out the door.

She left a note for Rob and Denise.

Went to rescue a friend from Leprechauns. Took your compound bow Rob. Back in a week or so.

Sunny and Lara had been the first back to the shop, which was just as well, since Lara had the keys. Sunny went through her medical supplies, amalgamating what she had into her backpack in a well organized kit. Lara smoked another cigarette and brewed some coffee.

At this point it occurred to her that she ought to work on her archery skills before she actually needed to use the bow. Since the paneling was all going to be ripped out anyhow, she drew an outline of a leprechaun in black marker on the wall and began target practice. As it turned out, she hadn't completely lost her ability from summer camp. The completely immobile wall leprechaun took 3 arrows to the head, 2 to the chest, one in each arm, 1 near enough the groin to seem mortal, and one in the foot. The rest hit his imaginary friends on either side. Lara sighed. If she could get off 20 shots before the leprechaun got to her, she might just kill him.

Courtney had arrived, and noticing Lara's target practice, had tried some of her own, with unerring accuracy. The wall leprechaun took an entire quiver without his invisible friends taking a hit. She gave Lara a few pointers, and when Lara tried again, she hit all but 5 times.

Ripper was the next to show up. While Courtney was taking another turn at target practice, Lara watched how he and Sunny interacted with interest. She'd asked Sunny what the deal was, and laughed at the 'friends with benefits' reply. She could see why it hadn't gone any further; she'd thought it might have been Ripper's fault, given that he tended to be a mouthy jerk, but watching them, she realized that Ripper was fairly smitten with Sunny, who was completely uninterested.

Medical student, Lara mused. It's all just chemicals and body parts.

That got her thinking about Blackout again, and she had a rush of chemicals through her body parts that made her stop thinking about Sunny and Ripper.

"Anyone want a coffee?" she asked.

"That'd be great," Ripper said.

He had put down his backpack, but was wearing a workman's tool belt around his hips. As Lara poured him his coffee, she nodded at the belt.

"Wouldn't have figured you for the handyman type," she said.

"I used to work trades before I opened the shop," Ripper replied. "They didn't give a shit about my long hair, so it was a good gig. Money was great. Bringing the belt made sense. The Claymore is great," he said, patting the big sword, "but this little saw I've got here is going to come in handy, mark my words." He held up a small saw with an orange plastic handle.

"Yeah, I'll use it to amputate your leg," Sunny laughed.

The sun set shortly before 6:00, and Lara turned on the LED lamp instead of the overhead lights. "Last thing we need is someone looking in here, seeing us all dressed up with weapons and then phoning the cops."

Blackout and Geo were the next to arrive. Blackout was dressed in fairly regular clothes, and he was carrying his gear in standard duffel bag with a shoulder strap. He was also carrying a road case like the ones musicians carried their instruments in.

"I don't go camping," he said when Ripper commented. "I'm not an outdoorsy sort of person."

When Ripper had made further comment about the lack of a weapon, Blackout had opened the road case. Inside were an array of colorful tubes, wires, and several battery packs.

"What the hell is all that?" Ripper asked.

"Pyrotechnics," Blackout replied, grinning, holding up a few sticks of what Lara was sure were dynamite. "You have to hold a blaster's permit to use pyro in Edmonton. So I thought I'd make it worth my while."

Geo had been standing off to the side, silently looking up at the Tree in the light of the LED lantern.

"He's having trouble buying into all this," Blackout whispered to Lara as she brought him a coffee. "Math professor...everything needs to be cut and dry--logical."

"Is he coming?" Lara asked. Geo didn't look like he'd have much to offer in a fight.

"He hasn't decided," Blackout replied. "That's why all his stuff is still in his car."

Mikey was the next to arrive.

"You guys suck!" he exclaimed, walking into the shop. "If I hadn't called Courtney to see how she was doing, you'd have all left me behind!"

"Wasn't sure your parents would let you come," Blackout said. "And what about school?"

"School?" Mikey nearly shrieked. "School? You're going to travel to the North Pole and battle dwarves and you're worried about me skipping school?"

"Leprechauns," Ripper corrected him. "They're not dwarves, they're leprechauns. What about your folks? What did you tell them?"

"I left a note saying I'm running away from home to join the circus," Mikey replied, pulling a face. "I didn't tell them anything," he said. "I'm not going to miss out on this just because my parents might get worried."

"Might get worried?" Blackout said. "Mikey, we're going to be gone for a week. They'll have an all points search for you underway when we get back. Forget it. You're not coming."

"No way man, no way," Mikey said, gesticulating wildly.

"You all look like you're going on a trip," a female voice said.

"Terry? Ima?" Lara called into the darkness.

"No," the voice replied. A tall form stepped into the glow of the lantern. Lara gasped. Someone swore. Mikey and Blackout stopped arguing. Pink eyes filled with intelligence gazed at them all. "My name is Eostre."

Episode 36: What to wear when going to Narnia

2007-11-14T23:09:00.000-07:00

The first thing Lara had done when she'd discovered the Leprechauns deception was to grab a flashlight and run down into the basement, hoping to find Terry, Ima, and Hatima awakened from the deep meditative state they'd entered to heal the Tree. Only darkness and silence greeted her. I thought they were supposed to be tending the tree. As she turned to leave, she spotted a yellow sticky note taped to one of the pipes.

The Tree is nearly healed. Went to see the Dixie Chicks perform as treat. Back tomorrow.

"Why is it that every time I need your help, you're out seeing a concert?" she fumed, then returned to the main floor. She was about to start up the ladder when she realized; I have no idea where I'm going. I know it's supposed to take a week to get to the Pole via the Tree, but I'm not prepared for a week long trek. It might have worked for Andrew to leave in a hurry, what with his traveling companions carrying all the outdoor gear, but Lara needed more than her winter clothes and few pieces of biscotti.

She'd sat for a moment, trying to make a mental list of all the things she thought she might need, but kept realizing that she really had no idea how to prepare for a trip to the North Pole which might involve violent action against Leprechauns.

"How does one pack when one knows they're going through the Wardrobe?" she mused out loud. Lucy and her siblings had the convenience of ignorance and a closet full of fur coats. She had a coffee shop and a single room apartment with a lot of great clothes. Which was the final thought she had before exhaustion overcame her, and she fell asleep on one of the leather couches in the store.

* * * * * *

In the aftermath of the battle with the Succubus and the Nephilim-Golem, Blackout had gone with Ripper and Sunny to the apartment next to Force Five Comics. Sunny had said she needed to make sure he didn't have a major concussion, and Blackout suspected that finding out that Ripper had been instrumental in killing a Golem-doppelganger-demonspawn had been some sort of turn on, and they'd be taking advantage of their friends with benefits package. Blackout had been looking forward to sleeping, even if Sunny would be waking him at regular intervals throughout the night to ask him the date, his name and other skill testing questions.

When he woke on Ripper's couch the next day at noon, he got dressed and walked down stairs, marveling at how the exterior of Andrew's coffee shop bore no scars to commemorate the chaos of the night before. The door to the shop had a hastily written note in black marker which read, Closed for renovations. It was locked.

Blackout pressed his face against the glass and peered inside the shop. In the dim light, he could see Lara's sleeping figure curled up on one of the couches.

Andrew must have gone through with the Leprechauns, he thought. The ludicrousness of the thought struck him and he laughed to himself. In the light of day, with no sign of the previous night's battle, it almost seemed like it had all been a dream. Aside from the way his head hurt when he moved too fast, it felt like it had happened a long time ago.

He wanted to bang on the door, to wake Lara and take her for breakfast, but he didn't know how long she'd been sleeping. The only reason he'd woken was out of a long-held deep hatred for sleeping anywhere but his own bed. It never felt right, because it never felt like home. He looked at how peaceful Lara looked, deep in slumber, and reflected that she didn't seem to share his homebody tendencies.

She's been sleeping in the ripping Tree's branches for the love of Pete, he reminded himself. He guessed that had a lot to do with the Tree feeling a lot more like home to Lara, and felt a twinge of envy. To have a magical connection like that; what would it be like? Don't complain, he thought, you got to be part of a real life fantasy adventure and lived to tell about it. What more do you want?

He wanted her. To hell with dragons and sex-demons and Leprechauns. He wanted Lara. And he knew that banging on the window would be a sure sign of that great dating deterrent; desperation. Breakfast at the High Level Diner would be just fine with a few friends. He hoped Ripper and Sunny were up now and needing sustenance after a night of commitment free sex.

* * * * *

Lara woke with a start. She'd been having one of those dreams where you're doing what you would be if you were awake. In her dream, she'd been preparing to enter the Tree, and was about to step onto the ladder when she realized that she was still sleeping, and all her hard work was just oneiric mist.

A quick glance at her watch told her she'd been asleep for four hours. Four more hours Andrew was in danger.

In danger. Again. She laughed at this. He really was the inverted fairy tale male. A pretty little princess, always getting his ass in danger for her to rescue. Only he wasn't the prince she was interested in, a thought which caught her by surprise.

She rescued Andrew because it was the right thing to do. But if she had to kiss the prince, she hoped it would turn out to be Blackout. Mark. She'd been keeping herself distant because of what had happened with Josh. But she'd realized last night, when she wondered if Blackout were dead, just how much she cared about him.

He'd been there for her every time she had needed him. And he'd done it all without once pressuring her, without once asking what was in it for him. He was a good guy. A nice guy. Maybe too nice for a recovering alcoholic. He was a prince; but was she the princess?

She got up and stretched, and grabbed her coat. If she was going to go rescue Andrew, she needed to be getting to it. Then she realized that she would need to call a taxi, and decided that it would be easier to wait for a cab over breakfast at the High Level Diner.

* * * * *

Courtney had walked back to Lister Hall alone. She was glad for the solitude, not wanting voices to intrude upon her reflections.

In the heat of battle, everything had been a blur. There had been no thought, only action. Walking in the cold darkness of the early morning, she'd considered that now there was only thought. And she had smiled, for what thoughts they were.

She had wielded cold steel against the forces of darkness, and had prevailed. That new coffee girl, Lara had been her sister-in-arms against the succubus. They had a bond now, whether Lara knew it or not, a bond forged by victory in combat.

She'd stripped off her clothes, taken a shower that was just shy of scalding to wash off the blood and filth, and then fallen into bed. If she dreamed, she didn't recall, so deep was her slumber. When she woke, she felt strong hunger. She dressed in a thick sweater and blue jeans, put her hair up in a red bandana and headed across the campus for the High Level Diner. It would be the best place to grab breakfast. Just the thought of how good crisp bacon would smell quickened her step.

She spotted Lara crossing the street from the coffee shop and called out. Lara stopped, frowning at her until recognition dawned.

"Sorry," Lara said. "I didn't recognize you in regular clothes..."

"Without the sword," Courtney laughed. "Where are you headed?"

"The High Level Diner," Lara replied. "I'm famished."

"Me too," Courtney said, falling into step beside the shorter woman.

They walked in silence for a few moments, their feet making squeaky, crunching noises on the dry snow. The sound reminded Courtney of Styrofoam for some reason.

"Actually, I'm glad I ran into you," Lara said, breaking the silence.

"Oh?"

"I wanted to say thanks for saving our asses last night," Lara said. "That was amazing, what you did."

Courtney shrugged her shoulders, feeling a bit awkward. "No big deal."

"No big deal? You had a fucking Samurai sword---and you knew how to use it!"

"Kendo lessons," Courtney replied. "Trust me, the pleasure was all mine. It's pretty cool to own a sword, but you always wish for the opportunity to use the damn thing. Last night was--incredible. I'm still having trouble believing any of it happened. If I didn't have this--" She pointed to where the succubus had wounded her, "I wouldn't believe it at all. I'd think I'd dreamed it all."

"I felt that way when this all started," Lara said. "But with everything that's happened in the past month I feel swept up in it, like I'm a character in a story. No one ever questions magic in fairy tales...so maybe that's what this is. A fairy tale." She paused. "What would you take with you if you were going to Narnia?"

"Why Narnia?" Courtney asked.

"Well, any fantasy world. Like if you had the chance to step through the Wardrobe, or be sucked into another realm, and it was one that would involve magic and elves...and fighting...what would you take with you?"

"Heavy wool socks and a pair of army boots for starters," Courtney replied without hesitation. "I assume you'd be doing a lot of walking, and there's nothing like heavy work socks to keep you from getting bad blisters. Plus they're good for stomping on stuff...like giant bugs, or whatever you need to stomp."

Good for stomping...leprechauns, Lara thought.

"Weapons," Courtney continued. "I'd pick up a good compound bow at a hunting store. And a serious knife. And a pair of work gloves. My dad always said, you can't do better than work gloves for a multi purpose item. They keep your hands warm, and let's face it, until you master firing a bow, the fletching tears hell out of your hands; work gloves keep that soft pink skin safe."

"I took archery at summer camp," Lara offered.

"Cool. Why are you asking?" Courtney said, walking up to the door of the High Level Diner and holding it open for Lara.

"I think I'll save that answer," Lara said, looking into the restaurant and spotting Blackout, Ripper and Sunny. "I don't want to have to tell this twice."

Episode 35: Rotkäppchen

2007-11-12T13:56:00.000-07:00

Episode 34: That scene from Predator

2007-11-09T11:26:00.000-07:00

What has gone before: Andrew Weazle, the owner of a failing coffee shop on the University of Alberta campus trades what he believes to be the final Friday night deposit in return for 'magic coffee beans' from a homeless man. After dumping the coffee made by the magic beans into a potted bonsai tree, a massive ash tree mysteriously grows overnight inside the shop. Following a series of dark adventures culminating in the near destruction of the shop, a group of leprechauns arrive, with the enigmatic request to travel the Tree to rescue the Easter Bunny...

Originally published at MagikBeans.com on April 5, 2007

Andrew stood up abruptly, his heart hammering. Visions from his dreams came flooding back in with harsh clarity. He would have to get the box open, he would have to get whatever was inside out, the leprechauns had tricked him, he would have to...

"I just knew you were after me lucky charms," Finn's voice said from the direction of the fire.

Andrew turned to his left to face the group of leprechauns, who were all fully awake, standing with guns drawn, cocked and aimed at him. Finn had a look of mock sadness and sympathy on his face.

"You've definitely made a ballache of this, Andy," Finn said. "And just when were were gettin' ta be pals."

"What's in the box?" Andrew asked.

"This isn't a James Bond movie," Finn said. "We won't be carryin' on with a lengthy palaver to give you time to escape. We're just goin' ta slot ya and be done wit' it."

Between the gunshot going off and what happened next, Andrew had an exceedingly brief moment when instead of his life flashing before his eyes, he coolly contemplated his options.

The first was to stand exactly where he was and let Finn's bullet strike him wherever Finn was aiming. Andrew guessed somewhere lethal, like the head or the heart. Finn was extremely pragmatic, and as he hadn't bothered to waste any time giving the command to open fire, he wasn't likely to shoot Andrew in the kneecap to get things started. Unless he was a lousy shot.

The second was to try and get out of the path of Finn's bullet, which would only buy him seconds before the rest of the group opened fire. If he dropped down to the ground, it would place him directly behind the box, which would serve as brief cover from the assault. However, whatever was in the box would definitely take a bullet, unless it was so important that the leprechauns wouldn't fire. A bit of a gamble to be sure. Nevertheless, it would only prolong the inevitable, and his guess was that Coll, being far less pragmatic than Finn, would try shooting him in the groin just for laughs.

The third was to go out in a blaze of glory. Jumping forward (and hoping Finn's bullet didn't hit him) would allow him to tackle Finn before he met his death, which would fulfill a life-long adage Andrew had played sports by, which was "it isn't whether you win or lose but how cool you looked while you were doing it that matters."

The fourth was to rely upon his mutant healing abilities to compensate for the damage the bullets would cause, which would be greatly reduced by his virtually indestructable skeleton, while he popped his claws and tore into the surly group of midgets, slicing, dicing, perhaps even making them into Julianne fries. But then he remembered that he had neither a mutant healing factor nor an indestructible skeleton, nor metal claws (nor the bad haircut to go with any of them).

By now he'd wasted his time imagining what he could do and instead was only left with the first option.

What he didn't know about his situation came together very rapidly, in, oh say the time it takes for a bullet to leave the barrel of a gun and fly across a 15 foot space.

He hadn't known that even as he'd had stood up and turned to face the leprechauns, he'd repositioned his feet; and when he'd realized they were all holding guns trained on him, he'd taken an inadvertent step to his right, away from the leprechauns and closer to the edge of the clearing. He hadn't known that this had placed his right foot in the middle of a twisted loop of tree root.

He had hoped, but couldn't have known that Finn wasn't so much a bad shot as a fan of Dirty Harry, which meant that his handgun of choice was a .44 Magnum revolver. The recoil from this gun is considerable when you're as tall as Clint Eastwood, but when you're the size of a digitally altered Elijah Wood, it means your aim doesn't count for shit once the gun is fired. The front end of the barrell always went up as the gun went off, which meant that instead of taking Andrew's head clean off, the bullet grazed the top of his head and burnt his hair.

The obvious difference of course, being that having your head blown off doesn't hurt like hell.

The pain shot through Andrew's body and sent him lurching backwards, tripping over the twisted tree root and crashing through a bush filled with thorns and brambles, which consequently made him twist, with the end result being that when he finally stopped moving, he was no longer in the clearing, but covered all around by thick foliage.

"Are ye dead?" Finn called.

"I think ye just nicked him," Coll said.

Andrew tried moving to edge further away from the clearing. A branch snapped beneath his weight.

And the leprechauns opened fire.

Chips of bark, sprays of dirt, chunks of moss flew into the air and fell on top of Andrew, but none of the bullets struck home. The whine of the projectiles and the noise of the gunfire was maddeningly frightening, but when Andrew rolled to one side, he realized why he was still alive. In his epileptic dance into the undergrowth, he had fallen sideways behind one of the dark trees that lined the path. A .44 Magnum round might be able to punch through an engine block, but not the trunk of a tree centuries old.

He scrambled onto his haunches and placed his back to the tree, waiting for the leprechauns to cease fire.

When they finally did, the silence was nearly as deafening as the gunfire had been.

"You dead now?" Finn called.

Andrew could see from his vantage point that while they'd been unable to hit him, they'd done a fine job of mowing down the brush surrounding his hiding spot. If he were to break from his position and run, he'd be a perfectly visible target.

"Someone go and check," Finn said.

"I'm not going into the woods," James replied.

"You won't be going into the woods," Finn said. "Just to the edge. Have a look see."

"I'm not going near the edge either," James replied. The others murmured similar sentiments.

"What a bunch of ass bandits," Coll growled. "You're all certified fairies, in every sense of the word."

Andrew could hear the deliberate footfalls as Coll approached the edge of the wood. He could only hope the darkness would hide him.

Coll turned on a flashlight.

I now officially hate Mountain Equipment Co-op, Andrew thought.

"Where are ye, ye little runt?" Coll said, and stepped up to the edge of the wood. Andrew could see the leprechaun out of the corner of his eye, but didn't dare move.

The beam played over the shattered bushes and trees, casting weird shadows. Andrew held his breath as the flashlight beam moved in an arc, closer and closer...

Episode 33: The Thing Inside the Box

2007-11-08T15:01:00.000-07:00

* * * * * * *

He awoke with a start. The fire had died down. The sounds of snoring mixed with the pop of the coals in the darkness. The embers from the fire cast a low, orange glow over the whole scene. He sat up, slowly, the memories of the dreams fading save for a general disquiet in his demeanor. In his youth when he'd woken up from such dreams, he'd wondered if he'd received a message from God. He'd seen a Billy Graham film in his youth where a man had woke in the middle of the night and set to prayer immediately, believing his waking to be a revelation.

He sat up, and glimpsed movement in the trees beyond the edge of the fire. James' words about staying out of the deep dark woods returned to him.

The Tree is good. But not everything in the Tree is.

"It's the Thing in the Box," a voice whispered, close to his ear. He jumped, and turned around, but all he could see was a form, shrouded in darkness, the embers of the fire too weak to spread light across its features.

"Who are you?" Andrew asked in a whisper.

"Your shadow at morning striding behind you," the figure replied.

The phrase seemed familiar. The figure could tell Andrew was trying to place the phrase.

"The Wasteland," it said. "Better yet, do you remember Borges?"

"The Garden of Forking Paths...it's one of my favorite works by him."

"Ts'ui Pen was right...there is no such thing as absolute time. But the labyrinth wasn't a book...it's the Tree."

Andrew nodded. It made sense in a dreamlike way. In The Garden of Forking Paths, Borges imagined an infinite series of times, that forked and broke off, much like the boughs of a tree, some crossing over each other, some never touching.

"I've come to tell you that Finn lied to you," the figure continued. "The Thing inside the Box is not a weapon. And the elves didn't kidnap Eostre."

"What? So what's in the box?"

The figure said something. Andrew heard it, and understood it, but seemed to be having trouble remembering it.

"I didn't catch that," he said. "Could you say it again?"

This time Andrew heard and understood. His eyes went wide.

"So...this whole thing's a farce?" He looked back at the sleeping Leprechauns. "You need to help me get out of here."

"I can't do that," the figure replied. "I'm only a mistake, a ghost."

And in that moment, the figure shifted his position enough for Andrew to look into his own eyes.

* * * * * * *

He awoke with a start. The fire had died down. The sounds of snoring mixed with the pop of the coals in the darkness. The embers from the fire cast a low, orange glow over the whole scene. He sat up, slowly, the memories of the dreams fading save for a general disquiet in his demeanor. In his youth when he'd woken up from such dreams, he'd wondered if he'd received a message from God. He'd seen a Billy Graham film in his youth where a man had woke in the middle of the night and set to prayer immediately, believing his waking to be a revelation.

Unable to shake the feeling, and remembering the image of white fur amidst the shattered fragments of the box, Andrew slid from the sleeping bag and raised himself to a crouch.

Whoever was supposed to be on watch was among the sleeping. None of the Leprechauns had their eyes open. He stood up and waved tentatively. No response.

His chest felt tight and his stomach was in a knot as he took his first step, carefully placing his foot like he'd learned to in a Tai Chi class he'd taken at the University. Then he distributed all his weight forward onto that foot before moving again, raising his leg and slowly moving it forward, keeping his weight all on the planted foot. Wash, rinse, repeat.

The moments passed like hours. It seemed like an eternity he was slowly moving across the little clearing, moving agonizingly, deliberately, toward the box.

He was so intent upon keeping his movements silent he almost stepped on top of it. He pulled his raised foot back from stepping on top of the boards, which were sure to creak. Lowering himself to a crouch, he placed his ear to the side of the box. In the dead silence, the sound was unmistakable.

Something was breathing inside the box.

Episode 32: Into the Deep Dark Woods

2007-11-07T21:08:00.000-07:00

Episode 31: Foiled

2007-11-06T08:01:00.000-07:00

What has gone before: Andrew Weazle, the owner of a failing coffee shop on the University of Alberta campus trades what he believes to be the final Friday night deposit in return for 'magic coffee beans' from a homeless man. After dumping the coffee made by the magic beans into a potted bonsai tree, a massive ash tree mysteriously grows overnight inside the shop. Following a series of dark adventures culminating in the near destruction of the shop, a group of leprechauns arrive, with the enigmatic request to travel the Tree to rescue the Easter Bunny...

The coins clinked as they dropped on top of each other, forming a shining gold column. Lara had been stacking and re stacking them since the Andrew and the Leprechauns had departed an hour earlier. It was a way of focusing, of keeping herself from being overwhelmed by everything that had happened since that wonderfully strange first day on the job. When she'd walked in that morning, her moment to look forward to had been getting back to her sister's place, taking a hot bath, enjoying a cigarette, and updating her myspace blog to rave about the new Battlelore CD which she'd picked up on her way back from her successful interview. It had been her celebratory I-now-have-an-income-of-my-own present to herself.

But instead of posting a review of fantasy metal, she had been thrust into the middle of a fantasy. She hoped it was going to start moving along the lines of traditional fantasy, where good won out in the end. While she enjoyed dark fantasy on the page, the past few weeks had been dark enough to put her off experiencing such things. If magic was going to enter her life for real, she wanted it to be white, not black.

But it had to be good, she mused, picking up the stack of coins and dropping them in sequence yet again. After all, what dark fantasy contained leprechauns? Or a coffee shop for that matter...

She smiled, watching the coins fall. Solid gold coins, every one as big as a dollar; worth enough to keep paying the lease on the shop, run it, repair it, renovate it...and she was going to hold Andrew to his word that she could do whatever she wanted with the place. Starting with ripping that sick paneling off the wall.

Her gaze left the column of gold coins and followed the length of one of the Tree's massive limbs. It was the one Finn had determined would lead them to the North Pole. When Andrew asked how he knew that, Finn laughed and said, "sooner or later, they all would. This one will just do it quicker than others."

Finn had been watching the Leprechauns wrestle a long wooden box up the ladder and onto the limb. When Lara had asked what was in the box, he'd said it contained their arsenal, which made Lara raise her eyebrows, since from her vantage point the Leprechauns were carrying enough weapons to deal with a group of Navy Seals. When they said they were engaging the Northern Elves in battle, she'd pictured swords or bows perhaps, but each of the tiny men had strapped on dual shoulder holsters with 9mm automatics in them, then removed their buckled belts and replaced them with military web belts covered in clips and hand grenades. She'd wondered what sort of firepower they had in the box that explosives and automatic hand guns didn't provide.

All the time, Andrew was intently staring at the Tree, leaning against its trunk. Lara left Finn to his final preparations and walked over to Andrew.

"Penny for your thoughts?" she said, and then, gesturing at the stack of gold coins, "We've got a few gold ones."

In the intervening twenty four hours since the Leprechauns had repaired the shop, he'd gone back to his apartment with Blackout and two of the Leprechauns, who'd repaired the ruined door (his landlord still hadn't gotten around to it, preoccupied as he was with the gaping hole at the end of the hallway where the succubus had burst through before launching into flight), while he showered and dressed. Leaned against the trunk, drinking in its healing presence, he was starting to look himself again. Lara followed Andrew's gaze to where the Leprechauns were entering the deep foliage of the tree, passing from the shop's electric light into green shadow.

"I keep thinking to myself, this can't be happening to me," Andrew continued. "And just now, watching you talking to Finn, just as naturally as if you were talking to any normal person instead of a...leprechaun, I realized, it isn't happening to me. It's happening around me. In all the fairy tales, its the prince who's supposed to wake up the sleeping maiden. And yet, I'm the one who's been doing all the sleeping."

He stopped and looked at her. "Does that make any sense?"

Lara laughed. "You're leaning against a tree which grew overnight from magic coffee beans, recovering from having your soul drained by a succubus, watching Leprechauns get ready to go kick the shit out of Santa's elves and you're asking me if what you just said makes sense, Princess?"

Andrew smiled at the jibe. Lara realized with a start it was the first time she'd seen him do that. "The old man gave me the beans," Andrew said. "Maybe he knew something like this would happen." He paused again and looked away from Lara. "Maybe he knew I needed something like this to happen."

"And here I thought it was just me," Lara said.

Andrew looked back at her. "But you've accepted it. I don't think I have. So I'm making a decision...to let whatever all this is...happen to me."

Finn walked over to them, stepping over the debris of the ruined coffee machines. "The boys are all off...and I'm ready to go meself."

"Let's get started then," Andrew said.

"Are ye sure ye want to be travelin' the Tree boyo? It's not like a walk in the river valley ye know. Magical journeys are dangerous voyages for your folk."

"You were sent to guide me...and Jack said I needed to learn to travel the tree," Andrew said. "Besides, it's not like the shop will be open for business right away..."

"Now that we have the money to make it look pretty!" Lara exclaimed, dancing over to the pile of gold coins.

"No major renovations until I get back," Andrew said, pointing a finger at her for emphasis.

"You said I could do whatever I wanted!" Lara said with a mock pout.

"That was before we had enough gold to do whatever you wanted," Andrew said. "I don't want to come back and find this place looking like a dominatrix's dungeon."

"I'm not into that!" Lara exclaimed. "Just because a girl wears black and fishnets doesn't mean she's into kinky sex. Way to stereotype me. You're as bad as all the assholes who keep messaging me on myspace. You forget I'm all about the flow of nature...Wicca baby, Wicca."

"Fine," Andrew said. "Do whatever you like. But no pentagrams on the floor."

"Ha. Ha."

"I'm serious," Andrew replied, spreading his arms to indicate the tree. "Just think of what would happen. We had a succubus on Valentine's day, Leprechauns near St. Patrick's, the Easter bunny's just around the corner..."

"It'd make for one hell of a Halloween," Lara grinned.

"If yer comin', then we need to be legging it already'," Finn interrupted. "The boys will be thinkin' I'm having a toss or somethin'."

"Right," Andrew said. "I'll grab my coat...seeing as we're going to the North Pole."

He ran into the back room and grabbed his coat and the essentials he'd gathered at his apartment while Finn climbed up the ladder and onto the Tree. Lara packed up a bag full of biscotti and muffins from the shop's baked goods, and added the chocolate covered coffee beans for energy. She handed the bag to Andrew and smiled.

"Packed you a lunch," she said.

He looked inside. "Just what my dietician told me I should be eating."

"Ye are a skinny bastard," Finn said from the Tree limb. "Could use some fat on ye."

"This is so bizarre," Andrew said, looking at Lara. "I mean, it's all so fast. There's no time to think about it all."

"Wouldn't do you any good if you could," Lara replied. "Get going."

And with that, Andrew turned, climbed the ladder, took one last look at the shop, and then followed Finn into the green shadow of the Tree's massive boughs. At first, their voices were clear and close, but then they became more distant, as though they were speaking from across a street, and then finally, they were gone, and the shop was silent.

She had turned and sat at one of the stools by the bar where the gold coins were stacked. On Monday she'd take them to a goldsmith's, get an appraisal, and then see about selling them. A quick trip to the Student's Union, and the month's rent would be paid, followed by a phone call to some friends of hers who worked in interior design. They knew building contractors, installers...they could get it handled.

Visions of what she was going to do with the shop flowed through her mind as she repeatedly stacked the coins. Her first impression when she'd seen them was that they looked exactly like the chocolate coins you could buy at a candy shop. They certainly didn't make the same sound. They didn't make that satisfyling 'clink!' Those just made a dull thud.

Like one of her coins just had.

She stopped, holding her breath. She'd been too lost in thought. That was all it was. She dropped the next one.

Thud.

With mounting horror, her heart in her throat, she peeled back the edge of the gold foil of the last coin in her hand, to reveal the chocolate beneath...

"This was supposed to be a good fantasy," she whispered.

Episode 30: Eostre

2007-11-05T11:30:00.000-07:00

Episode 29: Things get magically delicious

2007-11-02T11:07:00.000-06:00

Andrew didn't immediately recognize the seven diminutive men in the front doorway as leprechauns. Unlike the popular North American stereotype made famous by Lucky Charms cereal, these leprechauns were wearing red coats with either bright gold buttons, or gold embroidery in celtic knotwork, green trousers, shiny black shoes with large gold buckles and hats of various bright colors cocked to one side.

"Look for the red outfit," Jack had told him at the top of the Tree.

"You're here to help?" Andrew asked. "Did Charles, John and Jack send you?"

"Aye, they did," the leprechaun in front replied. He smiled, and then his eyes went wide, he grabbed his hat from his head and gave a deep bow. "Here I am forgettin' me manners. Finn MacChuail at your service," he announced. "Our apologies for barging in like this. We're sort of an unexpected party."

An unexpected party, Andrew thought. The opening chapter to Tolkien's Hobbit was called "An Unexpected Party" which featured a group of dwarves...but these weren't dwarves, at least not what he'd imagined dwarves to look like. Yet it was clear what their purpose was...to guide him in traveling the Tree.

"Are you my guides to travel the Tree?" Andrew asked.

Finn wrinkled his brow, as if thinking about this, and then said, "We've come to be of whatever assistance we can be. I think traveling will have to wait until we've done cleaning this lot," he gestured to the car wreckage and ruin of the shop.

"Excuse me, but travel the tree?" Lara said, jumping into the conversation. "As in climb its branches?"

"Well, that's how it starts, yes, but it leads to other places. Yer man looks like someone belted him in his dangly bits," Finn said, pointing at Blackout, who was standing at her shoulder.

"He's not my man," Lara replied. "And he's fine, he's just..."

"Concussed," Blackout finished.

"Not yer Man?" one of the other leprechauns said appreciatively. "Game on!"

"No time for a bit of slap and tickle Jimmy," Finn said. "Besides, she's too tall for ye."

"Never stopped me before," Jimmy said sulkily.

"Amputation wouldn't stop ye," Finn replied. "Let's set to work boys! Coll! Grab Brady and get this car out of here. Jimmy - you and Hoyt get rid of that pile of chum on the pavement there! Ryan and Culley, fix the window. Let's move!"

The small men moved with alarming speed; even as Finn jumped down from the trunk of Blackout's ruined car, Coll and his team were lifting it out of the shop and carrying it away down the street. In the distance, Blackout could hear the sound of approaching sirens.

"Where are they taking my car?" Blackout asked.

"Down the street a ways. Probably drop it in an alley. Don't worry, they'll make sure there isn't anything linking you to the wreck. File off the serial number, get rid of the plates, all of that." Behind him Ryan and Brady were rapidly gathering up the broken pieces of glass and putting them back together like an insanely difficult jigsaw puzzle.

"You said you can to travel the tree," Lara interrupted. "How exactly are you going to do that? And...where will you end up?"

"Well, normally we leprechaun travel by rainbow," Finn explained, sitting down at one of the tables. His companions followed suite, putting their feet up on the assorted debris and chairs. "But there isn't exactly what you'd be callin' an abundance of rain this time of year in these parts."

"Wait." Ripper said, running a hand down his face, squeezing it enough that as his hand slid past his eyes, he pulled all the skin down. "You're supposed to be leprechauns? St. Patrick's day isn't for another two weeks."

The leprechauns all looked at each other. "Look here Boyo," Finn said, leaning forward with an air of seriousness. "We aren't supposed to be anything. We are what we are. And what we are...is leprechaun."

Ripper laughed and let go of his face. The bottoms of his eyelids slowly moved back into place. "First a golem and a succubus, and now leprechauns. What next, the Easter bunny?"

"That's actually why we're here," Finn said. "We've been hired by her husband to find her and bring her back."

"You've been..." Ripper couldn't finish the sentence.

"Hired by Dieter Rabbit to get his wife Eostre back," Finn said. "Those little bastards at the 'Pole thought it would be clever to go and kidnap the girl and hold her ransom. An extra long winter doesn't bother them none."

"The bastards at the Pole being...?" Once again, the sentence hung in the air.

"The elves," Finn said matter-of-factly.

"Right." Ripper smiled in a way that pulled his whole face tight. "And does Santa know about this?" Blackout could tell that her new boss was dangerously close to breaking into hysterics.

"We don't think so," Finn replied. "He's usually on vacation this time of year. Goes down to Mexico for a few months."

"There's something I don't understand," Lara said.

"Only one thing?" Ripper asked, incredulous.

Lara ignored him. She had the three fates in the basement, had just turned a succubus into ground chop, then dropped an espresso machine on a golem's head, what were a couple of Irish faeries in the mix? "You said something about an extra long winter. What does that have to do with the Easter bunny?"

"Eostre," Finn corrected. "If she and Dieter--"

"Isn't it Peter?" Ripper asked facetiously.

"Common error," Finn said. "If Dieter doesn't have Eostre all banged up before long, it'll stay winter. That's why it's so damn cold so late in the season."

"Nothing to do with air currents or our position to the sun," Ripper said under his breath.

"And you need to go and get...uh...Dieter, back from the North Pole?" Lara asked.

"You're a sight more on the nose than he is," Finn said, nodding once at Ripper. "We get her back, the rabbits do a bit of effing, and Jayney Mack! It's Spring."

"And you need the tree..." Now Lara was having trouble ending sentences.

"To get to the Pole," Finn said. "Should take about a week to get there traveling the tree," Finn said. "Then we storm the workshop and beat seven shades of shit out of those northern fairies--giving us all a bad name I'd say."

"I thought you were here to guide me in traveling the Tree," Andrew cut in.

Finn nodded. "That we are. Your three chaps knew we'd be making our way along to the Pole, and figured it was a good way of killing two birds with one stone, if you take my meaning. But we do need your permission to travel it."

Andrew hesitated a moment. "If you've been sent, then why do you need my permission?" Andrew asked.

"Because you're the door warden of this gateway to the Tree," Finn replied. "If we were entering through another gate we'd previously traveled, it wouldn't be a problem. But we need your say-so to travel through this way. And we came this way, to pick you up for the trip!"

"Is that why I've never traveled like that?" Lara asked. "I've been in the Tree's branches many times, and I've never traveled outside the shop."

"That is correct," Finn said. "You need Andrew's permission. And so do I."

Andrew nodded. "All right. You can use the Tree."

"That's the first time you've spoken of it properly," Finn observed. "Which only leaves one matter to be settled."

"Which is?"

"The matter of payment," Finn replied. "Will ye be wanting cash, or do ye accept gold treasure?"

Episode 28: How Am I Gonna Clean Up This Mess?

2007-11-01T23:03:00.000-06:00

What has gone before: Coffee shop owner Andrew Weazle spills coffee made with magic beans into a planter containing a dead bonsai tree, causing a massive ash tree to grow in its place overnight. As a force of Order, the Tree attracts the hostile attention of forces of chaos. Following a climactic battle with minions of Chaos, Andrew and his companions stand amidst the wreckage of the coffee shop...

Sunny and Mikey pulled up to the wreckage of the shop, and Mikey had jumped out even before the car had stopped moving. He scrambled through the shattered window, mouth agape. Sunny grabbed her medical kit and ran up behind him, surveying the chaos that had once been Andrew's coffee shop.

Blackout's car had skidded around so that it had struck the window tail first, but had caved in part of the window frame as well. All the glass from the window lay in shards and fragments, letting the frigid winter air into the shop. Lying ten feet from the car was a gory mangled heap of feathers and what Sunny could only think of as 'chum', and Mikey likened to raw hamburger meat. Further into the store, they saw the new barista climbing down out of the big tree prop, which both of them were looking at with growing realization. Beneath the tree, Blackout was laying on one of the couches, a wet cloth on his head; Ripper was seated beside him in an awkward position that made Mikey think he was trying to hide something. Andrew Weazle was pouring coffee for Ripper, smiling, wearing a winter coat and a blanket wrapped around his legs like a kilt. Courtney was reclining in one of the plush chairs, dressed in her chain mail and holding her right side. Blood was flowing from between her fingers.

"Cort!" Sunny yelled and ran to her friend. "What the hell happened here?"

"You should see the other guy," Courtney said, smiling ruefully.

"You mean the naked guy with the espresso machine for a head?" Mikey called, having found the Nephilim's body.

"I mean the pile of chum out front," Courtney called back.

"That's funny," Sunny said, "that's the word I thought of too. I'm going to have to cut the leather straps on your chainmail Cort. Sorry."

"Better than bleeding to death."

"So," Ripper said, taking a drink of coffee. "This has been great fun, but I'm thinking the cops should be showing up soon, and I'm wondering how we explain all this."

"I'm just glad to be alive," Andrew said, pouring a coffee and handing it to Lara. "Being in jail would be a cake walk compared to what I just went through."

"Yeah, but if we all end up in jail, who takes care of the Tree?" Lara asked.

"We're facing jail time for homicide and you're worried about your stupid decor?" Ripper shouted.

"Not...decor," Blackout said weakly, opening his eyes for the first time.

"He's still talking nonsense," Ripper said.

"No he's not," said Andrew. "And...you're right Lara. Going to jail won't help any. But what else are we going to do? I mean, it's not like we can fix that window, move the car, clean up the carcass of the succubus..."

"Of course!" Ripper said, snapping his fingers. "I should have known! Transformation into a half-owl form, the screech...I mean, we fought one of those before," he said, addressing this last part to Courtney.

"I liked it better when it involved plastic dice," Courtney said, wincing at Sunny's ministrations.

"What about the three women?" Blackout asked weakly. "Can't they help?"

"What three women?" Andrew asked.

"Tell you later," Lara replied. "They're currently indisposed, working to heal the Tree from the damage the Nephilim did."

"I think I would be confused if I had even a lick of an idea of what's going on here," Mikey said. "But I don't. So I'll just say I'm very excited to be a part of whatever is going on. This far exceeds my expectations for how cool it would all be."

Andrew sat down. "Maybe the best thing would be for all of you to get the hell out of here before the cops show. I'll stay and take the blame. I'm the only one who's linked to this whole mess."

"Like my car sitting there in your shop window doesn't link me," Blackout said. "I'm in, thick or thin."

"So am I," Lara said. "I didn't come this far to walk out now."

"But what do we do about that mess? We can't clean it up before the cops arrive."

"Maybe that's where we can be of service," said a voice with a lilting, musical quality to it, and they all turned to look at the shattered window, to where seven leprechauns were standing.

Episode 27: More cats, bigger fight...and soap

2007-10-31T19:53:00.000-06:00

Courtney had thrown on the chainmail loose about her, threw on her rugby cleats and headgear, put her mouthguard in, and grabbed her katana; it looked like a replica model, but it had cost her over a thousand bucks-hand forged with an edge. She paused for a moment as she removed it from the hardwood plaque on the wall. It was crazy really, for Blackout to tell her to bring this stuff to an emergency? But she'd heard that shriek...was it all some sort of gag? There was no way to know, and she had always promised herself that she would never be that person who ignored a cry for help, who let a woman be raped outside her door when she could have done something, like she heard stories about so many times working downtown at the women's shelter. She'd once gone next door in Lister Hall when the girl next door had brought home the wrong guy. It had been a bad night for the wrong guy. He'd been drunk and got violent, and that's when Courtney had knocked at the door. He'd told her to fuck off, and she'd said if he didn't open up she'd call the cops. After he opened the door he probably wished he'd called the cops. Courtney had nearly clubbed him to death with a ringette stick. They'd thrown his body in the dumpster out back and called 911 anonymously. There had been an inquiry by the cops, but no one fessed up about it. No one ever wanted to get involved.

Well Courtney did. And as she stepped out of the elevator, her chain mail buckled and fastened on, she began jogging down the street towards Andrew's coffee shop, samurai sword in hand.

* * * * * *

There was snow falling down from a black sky, white motes in the darkness, and it made him think of all the talk Charles did about chaos and order...the white was the order, but it seemed so insignificant against the darkness it seemed to be running away from. His ears had registered sound, but it took tearing his gaze away from the hypnotic descent of the snowflakes to give the sounds context.

Even once he had looked, none of it made any sense.

Someone was sitting in front of him, slumped over the wheel of a car; there was blood on the steering wheel. He wondered why anyone would choose to drive a convertible in the dead of winter, but then he saw the sundered metal frame that had once held the car's roof and understood.

There was a girl looking in horror at the person slumped over the steering wheel. Both seemed familiar, but he could see the girl's face...she was the new girl he had hired...it seemed an age ago. She was screaming, and shaking the unconscious man's shoulder...or was he dead?

The car itself had somehow backed into his coffee shop; the window it had gone through was completely disintegrated. Andrew looked down impassively at the glass fragments and shards which had fallen thick as the snow in the back seat of the car. He was suddenly aware of his nakedness, and glad he had the blanket between himself and the glass.

Over the girl's shoulder he could see something approaching from the street, seeming to float down from the sky, a great shadow silhouetted against the street lights and the glare of the snow. It looked to be a giant bird, but he could see a face on it...and that face he recognized all too well.

"She's coming," he said, a bare whisper. His throat felt dry and swollen. The girl in the front seat didn't seem to hear him. "She's coming," he repeated louder, this time a croak.

The girl heard him and turned to look, first at him, then when he nodded in the direction of the thing approaching them, turning to the street. But it was already too late. The giant owl-thing had launched itself, talons outstretched.

* * * * * *

Courtney had seen the front end of the car sticking out of the shop, the roof torn off, and Blackout slumped across the wheel as she approached, picking up her pace from a jog to a full run, her cleats digging into the hardpack snow and giving her extra traction. She could see Andrew, the guy from the coffee shop sitting in the back seat, wrapped in a blanket, looking out into the street. She turned her head to see what he was looking at, and nearly fell down.

A huge bird-like apparition was lighting down on the street in front of the ruined shop, and it didn't take a Dungeon Master to tell her this wasn't a wandering monster. This was an enemy, and it was getting ready to attack. She put on a burst of speed, her powerful leg muscles pushing her faster and faster.

She bolted across the crosswalk, sprinting full out as the owl thing jumped into the air for its attack. Courtney's leg stretched out, touched the hood, and she sprung into the air, katana swung back.

This is where all those kendo lessons pay off, was the last coherent thought she had before she connected in a full on shoulder check with the monstrosity.

* * * * *

Andrew saw the girl in chainmail crash into the monster, throwing it to the ground in front of the copy shop. He was about to ask the girl in the car...Lara?...what the hell was going on, when a steel grip closed about his wrist and yanked him clean out of the backseat.

He was pulled face to face with his own face. His arm felt like it had been torn out of the socket; the super-him was holding him off the ground by the wrist, letting him dangle there, the blanket fallen to the ground.

"I told her we should have just killed you," he told himself. This was by far worse than the inner dialogue he was always engaged in. "Time to remedy that mistake," his bigger self said, and drew back his free arm to strike.

Andrew could see that the free arm was holding one of the tables in it.

"This is going to hurt," his steroid-monkey self said. "A great deal."

* * * * *

Ripper had jumped out of his seat when he'd heard the car crash into the coffee shop. He ran out of his apartment at the back of the comic shop and raced to the window to look down into the street. From his vantage point, he could only see the black lines the wheels had left in the snow on the street, and the front end of the car. But that was enough. He knew that hood all too well. It was Blackout's car.

Then his phone rang, and he nearly jumped out of his skin. He looked at his call display. It was--Courtney?

"The world is ending," he said, and thumbed the talk button.

"Are-you-at-your-shop?" Courtney asked, breathing heavy between every word.

"Yes!" Ripper replied. "Blackout's car just got in an accident!"

"Listen, Blackout phoned me and told me to bring my LARP gear to the shop! He said it was an emergency!"

"Our LARP gear?" Ripper stole a glance at the claymore he had on the wall behind the counter, beneath the sign that said, We don't mind if you shop-lift, so long as you don't mind if we get medieval on your ass.

"What does he need our LARP gear for? Courtney, I think he might be seriously hurt!"

"That's just what he told me! I'm almost there, I gotta go," and she hung up.

Ripper stood there in the darkness of the shop, uncertain of how to proceed. His brain registered the need for decisive action; his friend could be close to death in the wreckage of that car. He ran to his computer, and typed quickly to Mikey, then grabbed the claymore from above the counter and ran down the stairs.

* * * * *

Mikey stared at the screen, not sure if Ripper had made a typo.

Call Sunny. Tell her to bring doctor kit. Blackout in car accident at coffee shop. Come if you can. Bring LARP gear.

Why wouldn't he just tell Mikey to phone 911? Why wouldn't he phone 911 himself? And why the hell would he bring his LARP stuff to a car accident? This had to be a joke...and yet, something told him...it wasn't. Ripper joked about a lot of things, but his best friend needing medical attention...wasn't one of them. Maybe Blackout was high...he did DJ at those raves. Maybe he'd been driving under the influence, and they didn't want the cops to find out. That felt pretty gangster, which appealed to Mikey. Anything off the beaten path appealed to Mikey. His parents were dyed in the wool Baptists, and if they knew that he played D&D, if they knew he did freestyle rap and hip hop at nightclubs, that he knew how to break into cars, even though he had no intention of stealing one...if they knew he owned a pilum, a Roman short sword and a real skeleton key...they'd freak.

Rescuing a friend strung out on drugs by keeping the authorities out of the loop. That had to be it. Whatever. Even if it wasn't, it would be one more secret that his parents would shit the ten commandments over. He flipped open his cell phone and dialed Sunny's number.

* * * * * *

Ripper went down into a crouch when he saw the bird-thing land just in front of the shop. He felt his crotch go warm and then suddenly very cold as his pants nearly froze to his leg. How uncool was that? He just pissed himself. Still, he had pissed himself over seeing a half-woman half-owl the size of a cube van land in front of his comic shop and he hadn't been high.

I think that earns the right to pee down one's leg, he thought to himself.

He glanced over at the wreckage of Blackout's car. The barista babe Lara was shaking Blackout...who was slumped over the steering wheel, blood running down the side of his head. He forgot his fear and ran crouched down to the side of the car, throwing himself down against the door as the owl-thing screamed loudly and launched itself at the wreckage. He braced himself for an impact that never came. The monster's trajectory changed suddenly as it was forced sideways, over Ripper's head and then crashing into the pavement.

He saw Courtney roll clear of the monster, her katana flashing in hand, and suddenly remembered his own sword. He stood to go and help her, when he heard a startled yelp and turned just in time to see a gigantic version of Andrew Weazle grabbing an emaciated version of Andrew Weazle from the back of the car wreck.

"This is so fucked up," he said under his breath.

But he'd gamed enough to know that when a really large anything grabs its own twin from the back seat of a car filled with friendlies, it means that the really large something is not a friendly. This hypothesis was given further gravity by the realization that the giant Andrew was about to hit the World Vision poster child Andrew with a table.

He raised the claymore, and ran into the coffee shop screaming.

* * * * *

Andrew heard the screaming and then saw a flash of metal and heard a sound much like an axe chopping wood. His double let go of him, and Andrew crashed to the ground in a pile of flesh and bone. The pain in his shoulder was immense. Turning his head, he could see Mark Ripper standing with a huge sword embedded in his double's left forearm. Ripper was trying to pull the sword loose, but his swing had connected hard enough to sink into the bone, and the blade was stuck. His double took his right hand and swatted Ripper, launching him off the ground and landing on the trunk of Blackout's car. The giant then turned his attention to the sword, which he pried loose with one titanic tug. The blade was slimy with something that looked like raw sewage instead of blood. A smell like a chemical toilet at a weekend-long rock festival hit Andrew's nostrils and he gagged.

The giant turned his attention to Andrew again. And now he had a sword.

Andrew scrambled to his feet and lurched towards the back room. He reached the door just in time, slamming it shut behind him. He flipped the deadbolt and slumped to the floor.

The door shook on its hinges as the giant pounded into it. The deadbolt wouldn't make any difference if the frame couldn't hold. He pulled himself to his feet with an effort and looked around the room for something to protect himself with. The open door to the bathroom beckoned. If nothing else, it was another door between him and the giant.

* * * * *

Courtney went down hard under the weight of the succubus, and they wrestled, a blur of steel and claws. She felt one of the talons rake across her ribcage and she screamed as the pain lanced up her side. She wanted badly to say she'd had worse, but the truth was, she hadn't. The fight between them had been worse than any scrum she'd ever been in. Worse than any pain she'd ever felt. She tried to get up, but the wound was too much. She couldn't raise the katana to strike back.

At least I didn't turn a blind eye or deaf ear, she thought to herself.

The succubus leered at her. "Silly girl," it said in its mockery of the human voice. "Charging into the fray without knowing what you faced. I have lived for thousands of years, and drained as many great heroes of their strength. You have the spirit, but not the skill to defeat me. I admire your spirit, and I look forward to taking it--"

The succubus stopped in mid sentence with a choking sound, and jerked to the side, as though it had been pulled by an unseen hand. It looked surprised, and turned its head to see what had happened.

Which was when Lara smacked the look of surprise clean off its face with the reclaimed half-shovel.

* * * * *

The Nephilim kicked hard at the door to the staff room, and it exploded off its frame, crashing into the empty room beyond. It strode into the staff room, searching for Andrew. The light from under the door to the bathroom beckoned.

"Trapped," it said. It twirled the claymore in its hand, accessing one of Andrew's memories of fantasy films. "It's over little brother," it said. "Time to die."

The door to the bathroom was flung open and Andrew stood, still naked, coated in some sort of viscous goo.

"Here's a little trick I learned at summer camp," Andrew said, and launched himself in a dive across the floor. Coated in hand soap, he slid across the floor with ease, through the Nephilim's legs, and out the staff room entrance.

The Nephilim roared and whirled to pursue, slipping on the trail of soap as he did so, falling to the floor with a crash. Andrew was trying to pull himself up to a standing position, a difficult feat given his slick epidermis. He had righted himself at the same time as the Nephilim, and did a sideways slide away from the giant as it crashed headfirst into the coffee bar.

* * * * *

Ripper bolted upright, and looked around.

"Not a dream. Damn." He surveyed the action, seeing what he had missed while unconscious. The giant was nowhere to be seen, and the skinny Andrew was clutching the side of the coffee bar as though he were having trouble getting his legs to work for him. He turned and saw Courtney and Lara repeatedly striking the owl-thing over and over, although it was painfully obvious that the creature was deader than Napoleon.

Blackout.

He jumped off the trunk and, ignoring the pain in his tailbone and lower back, hobbled to the driver's side of the car. He put a hand on Blackout's shoulder and leaned close.

"Blackout?" he said. He heard a crash and turned to see the giant rising from behind the coffee bar. Andrew was avoiding his super-sized twin by sliding about in a slapstick comedy routine that would have made any Loony Toons character proud. But it was as obvious as the bird was dead that Andrew was slowly being backed into a corner, and his movements were becoming more and more desperate.

"Blackout?" Ripper repeated.

Blackout groaned. "Oh thank God. Can you hear me?"

"Just don't play Chemical Brothers and Moby. It's too mainstream," Blackout mumbled.

"Great," Ripper grimaced. He stood and called to the women. "HEY! Xena and Buffy! I could use a hand here!"

The women stopped their butchering of the gigantic fowl and turned to look at him. Their hair was disheveled, and blood splattered them from head to toe.

"Blackout's okay--I think! But he isn't making much sense...and we need to tend to this other problem here. The giant Andrew one!"

"It's not a giant!" Lara shouted. "It's a golem!"

"Oh!" said Ripper in a bemused tone. "Why didn't you just say so?"

* * * * *

Andrew dodged, but he could feel the last of whatever strength the Tree's mead had granted him leaving him rapidly. It was only a matter of time before the giant had him. And if it got a decent grip on him, it would be over.

He slid once more, and his foot slipped as he did. He fell to the ground, and in that instant the giant was upon him, scooping him up in his arms and crushing him to his chest. Andrew felt the air go out of his lungs, and flailed in vain against the Nephilim's grip.

"Goodbye little brother," the giant said, and hugged Andrew even tighter. "One last hug between family."

"Truth," said a voice, and the Nephilim turned, relaxing its grip on Andrew slightly. "What is truth? That's the age old question, isn't it? Or in your case, the week old forehead tattoo."

Ripper stood, a bottle of spray cleaner in one hand. He raised it like a gun, and clicked the nozzle to 'stream'. He sprayed it hard onto the Nephilim's face, peeling back the makeup from it's forehead.

"Stupid mortal," the Nephilim said, shaking the soapy solution from its eyes. "Soap won't take off the magic word." He threw Andrew to the side and advanced towards Ripper.

"No, but this will," called Lara from high up in the tree, where she kicked the espresso machine loose.

The Nephilim looked up just in time for the metal letters "Saeco" to replace the Hebrew word for 'truth' carved into his forehead.

Outside, the snow continued to fall.

Episode 26: At the Top of the Tree

2007-10-29T14:32:00.000-06:00

What has gone before: Coffee shop owner Andrew Weazle spills coffee made with magic beans into a planter containing a dead bonsai tree, causing a massive ash tree to grow in its place overnight. Following a miraculous weekend, Andrew leaves work in the company of a fatally attractive woman who turns out to be a succubus, a demon which steals human life force through sexual contact. The succubus creates a doppelganger of Andrew, and the pair of them plot something dire for the magic Tree. Andrew's friends Lara and Blackout rescue him from near death, only to find themselves pursued by the succubus. Meanwhile, Andrew's spirit travels the Tree...

"...the role of guardian is an office, like any other office. You aren't better than the people around you because you were chosen to guard an avatar of the Tree," John said, pipe stem clamped between his teeth. He tried drawing smoke from the pipe and realized it had gone out. Taking the pipe from his mouth he turned it upside down and patted the bowl with the palm of his hand, spilling tobacco out onto the ground, which Andrew realized, was actually tree bark.

"What John's trying to say is that if you get out of this fine mess you've landed yourself in," Jack said, handing Andrew a mug of beer, "is that taking care of the tree is important work, but its best done with the rest of the world in mind. You can't go thinking the world owes you a favor because of what you'll give up, or undertake, or even now, suffer because of the Tree. The work of the guardian is cosmic butler. You are the door-warden to the Tree, not its bloody gardener."

"Which is why its brilliant that you're a...what did you call it again?" Charles said, sipping his own beer.

"A barista. It's just a fancy term for coffee maker," Andrew said.

"But its a service oriented job," Charles said. "And even the smallest act of service echoes the greatest sacrifice. Making a cup of coffee for a customer is the first step on the journey that could lead you to giving your life for someone else."

"Not necessarily a journey anyone wants to take, C.W." said Jack.

The golden light which suffused their surroundings at the top of the tree seem to flicker for a moment, as if a shadow had passed across the unseen sun. The four of them stopped talking and looked around.

"What the hell was that?" Jack asked.

A distant rumble, followed by another flicker, and a marked dimming of the light.

"Not good," John said, putting his pipe away and getting to his feet. "We'd best be on our way. I think we've told you a good lot you can put to work," he said to Andrew.

"Where are you going?" Andrew asked.

"The last time I saw this happen was in 1945," John said. An avatar of the Tree was destroyed in Nagasaki, and those of us who traveled it in those days witnessed a dimming of that golden light. It means an avatar of the Tree is on the verge of being destroyed."

"My Tree?" Andrew asked.

"Impossible to say," John replied. "There are many worlds connected to the Tree, as many as there are branches," he said, gesturing to the massive green expanse beneath them. "But we know yours was likely to be in such danger."

Jack and Charles stood, placing their beer mugs down on the table. "He really ought to stick to tea and coffee," Jack said, waving at Ratty, who was wiping down the coffee bar.

"Well, I give him points for good effort," Charles said.

"Thank you," Andrew said abruptly. "Thank you for helping me."

"We'll see you again," Jack said, smiling his expansive smile. "If you make it out of this mess alive, we'll send someone to teach you how to travel the Tree."

"How will I know you've sent them?"

"Look for the red outfit," Jack replied, and walked to the edge of the cafe's great platform. A bus, hovering in the air, was waiting for them. "Cheers, Andrew."

"Cheers," he said, and watched as the three men boarded the bus, and flew away.

Andrew sat there, looking at the green expanse of the Tree. He wondered what was happening to his body, and felt a twinge of guilt for how badly he had messed things up. He took another sip of the beer, which tasted strange to him. More like a spiced wine...or champagne even.

"How you like?" Ratty asked, clearing the other mugs off the table.

"It's an odd taste for a beer," Andrew said.

"Not beer!" Ratty said, shaking his head, and bristling his tail. "Mead. Made from sap of the Tree."

"Of course," Andrew smiled. "Just like everything else here." He took another drink.

"Make you feel better quick," Ratty said. "Tree sap heal quick quick, quick sticks!" The squirrel pondered the half-drank mugs. "They no like?"

"I don't think they knew what they were drinking," Andrew said, and tilted his head back, drinking the sweet, thick mead down in thirsty gulps. A delicious warmth flooded through him. Through my body? he thought, and then laughed. His body wasn't here...it couldn't be. It was back in the real world...

And then the vision of gold and green, of Ratty and the cafe was torn away again, and he took a lungful of bitter cold air. He blinked, and looked around. Once again, he found himself wishing he hadn't come back.

Episode 25: The gratuitous car chase...sort of.

2007-10-28T23:53:00.000-06:00

What has gone before: Coffee shop owner Andrew Weazle spills coffee made with magic beans into a planter containing a dead bonsai tree, causing a massive ash tree to grow in its place overnight. Following a miraculous weekend, Andrew leaves work in the company of a fatally attractive woman who turns out to be a succubus, a demon which steals human life force through sexual contact. The succubus creates a doppelganger of Andrew, and the pair of them plot something dire for the magic Tree. Andrew's friends Lara and Blackout rescue him from near death, only to find themselves pursued by the succubus...

"I can't see her!" Lara screamed, leaning out of the car window as far as her seatbelt would allow.

"Get your head back in here!" Blackout shouted over the scream of the small car's engine redlining. "Remember what she did to your leg?"

Lara pulled her head back in from the freezing air and looked back at Andrew's unconscious form, strapped into the back seat and covered in heavy blankets.

"He looks dead!" Lara shouted.

"I'm not as worried about him right now!" Blackout replied, swerving madly, racing for the entrance to the high level bridge. If he could make it in there, they might have a chance of reaching the shop before the succubus descended on them again. The bridge's heavy steel framework would provide cover, and Blackout doubted the bitch could spread her wings in the enclosed space. He didn't think the car could withstand another assault.

When Lara had spotted Julie over Blackout's shoulder, the demon had still been at the far end of the hall. They'd both ducked into the apartment's back stairwell, and Lara had rammed a fire-extinguisher into the crash bar, preventing Julie from following them. They'd raced down the stairs, both of them uttering prayers mixed with expletives, profanity and petitions blurring into what Blackout could only hope God would construe as sincere pleas for divine assistance.

They'd reached the ground floor to find it empty save for other tenants, who gave them hardly a passing glance as they rushed out of the building. Blackout recognized the averted gazes; don't look and you don't have to get involved. At least one of them had held the door open.

They'd made it to the car before Julie had descended upon them. Lara saw her first once again, as Blackout was occupied trying to strap Andrew in. She'd shoved Blackout into the car, sending him sprawling across Andrew, while she dropped to the ground. There was a terrible deafening screech as sharp claws raked across the roof of the car.

"We need to get going!" Lara had screamed, jumping up from the pavement. Blackout extricated himself from the backseat and looked up into the night sky to see a huge, winged shape soaring upwards before banking and turning back towards them. He'd frozen in place, terror stealing his ability to move.

Julie had transformed into something that appeared to be a mix of an owl, with massive wings and outstretched talons, but retained the face and torso of a dark haired woman with a terrible look of rage on her face, fangs trailing spit in her fury. She was headed straight for him, and he understood that those claws would tear him half. And still he was unable to move.

And just as he thought his life had come to its end, there was a metallic ringing noise, a flurry of feathers and an unholy, inhuman shriek. The violence of the moment threw Blackout to the pavement, and he saw the Julie-thing crash overhead and into a parked car, the glass from the windows blowing out beneath the monster's weight.

Lara was standing over him, legs braced, clenched teeth bared, breathing heavily from the adrenaline rush. In her hands she held the snapped haft of the blessed shovel.

"I think the rest of it's in that bitch," Lara said, answering Blackout's unspoken question. "No time to check though!" She dropped the useless wood and ran around to the passenger side.

Blackout pulled himself to his feet, ignoring the pain in his shoulders and tail bone and got into the car, firing the ignition as he watched the wounded Julie-thing try to right itself from the wreckage of the car. He could see the snapped haft of the shovel buried in its torso.

"Yeah," he said, as the car lurched away from the curb. "She's still got your shovel."

Now, as they roared into the entrance to the high level bridge, driving faster than he ever had in his life, Blackout had a wild moment of elation; they were fighting the powers of darkness, and like every story or movie he'd ever seen, it looked as though they'd actually make it. They'd get Andrew to the Tree and he'd be healed and everything would be all right. They were only minutes from the shop now.

And then he saw Julie, flying parallel to them as they raced across the bridge, keeping speed with them despite the wound the shovel had inflicted. She was smiling at him, as though she knew what he was thinking, and was letting him know that things didn't work out that good in real life. In life, the bad guys won, all the time. Darfur, Rwanda, Sierra Leone...we've been to all those places, and we feasted on the bloodbaths there. What makes you think you're special?

"Because I'm a Dungeon Master, bitch," Blackout said through gritted teeth and leaned forward over the steering wheel.

"What did you say?" Lara shouted.

Blackout didn't reply, but instead dug his cell phone out and handed it to Lara. "Speed dial #2!" he yelled. "And put it on speaker!"

* * * * *

Ripper's cell phone began playing the theme to Star Wars; it was the ringtone he'd set for his friends from the gaming group. He knew it couldn't be Geo, as the man had a real job and would never be up past midnight on a weeknight. It couldn't be Mikey, since he was currently playing WOW with Ripper, and was actively engaged in a conversation with someone else in their party. It was unlikely to be Courtney, since she hated Ripper's guts, which left Blackout or Sunny. If Sunny was phoning at this hour, it was because she was hoping to take advantage of their Friends With Benefits arrangement. He grabbed the phone and was disappointed to see Blackout's number on call display.

"Not tonight buddy," he said, and shut the ringer off.

* * * * *

"No answer!" Lara shouted as they roared out of the corridor of the High Level bridge and up the hill towards the University campus. "Oh shit!"

Blackout caught a glimpse in his peripheral vision of Julie coming up broadside, and then the car lurched as her talons dug into the car and lifted it off the ground. Blackout had brief visions of the monster dragging them up into the sky and then out over the North Saskatchewan river before dropping them to an icy death by drowning.

But cars were not meant to fly, and vehicle roofs are not built to hold the weight of a car suspended in mid air. The roof tore loose, weakened already by Julie's first attack, and the vehicle slammed back into the road, bouncing as it struck. Blackout felt something give in his wrist as he tried to steer. Bright, lancing pain shot up his right arm and he let go of the steering wheel. The car swerved erratically, driving up onto the sidewalk before Lara leaned over and grabbed the wheel, turning them back onto the street.

Blackout grabbed the wheel with his left hand. "Got it!" he shouted. "Where is she now?"

"Six o'clock!" Lara yelled. "Shit shit shit!"

There was a crashing noise as the Julie-thing dropped the roof of the car, trying to bomb them with it. It struck the back of the car, denting in the trunk, and bouncing harmlessly off behind them.

Blackout turned the wheel, spinning the car hard to the right and racing down the street that lead to the shop. "Almost there!" he shouted. "Try the phone again! Speed dial #3!"

* * * * *

Courtney was up late studying for mid-terms when her phone rang. She furrowed her brow, wondering who could possibly be phoning at this hour. The call display said it was Blackout. She thumbed the talk button, and put the phone to her ear.

"Mark?" she said.

"CORT!" Blackout's voice, distorted, and difficult to hear with all the background noise. "I need you to come to the coffee shop NOW! Call Ripper and anyone else you can and tell them to bring their LARP shit! It's an emergency!"

There was a terrible screeching noise, and then the line went dead. Courtney sat there, dumbstruck for a moment, then calmly put down the phone and went to her closet, opening the door. She pushed aside clothes to take out a very heavy garment bag. As she undid the zipper, silver links of chain glinted in the light of her desklamp.

* * * * *

"What about the Nephilim?" Blackout shouted as they rocketed down the street, the coffee shop now in view.

Lara was holding her left arm against her body. Her arm was bleeding from where Julie's talons had grazed her while she was holding out Blackout's phone, now lying on the street somewhere behind them.

"Crash through the window!" Lara yelled back.

"Are you nuts?" Blackout screamed.

"We're being chased by a huge owl monster!" Lara shouted. "It tore the roof off your fucking car! We are going to DIE if you don't get us close enough to the Tree!"

And then they were skidding sideways on the icy road, their screams blending into a chorus as the car jumped the curb, spinning 180 degrees before slamming through the front of the coffee shop.

Episode 24: The Nephilim

2007-10-24T15:39:00.000-06:00

Andrew Weazle, the owner of a coffee shop trades the Friday night deposit in return for 'magic coffee beans', which cause a massive ash tree to grow overnight inside the shop. Following this miraculous weekend, Andrew leaves work in the company of a fatally attractive woman who turns out to be a succubus, a demon which steals human life force through sexual contact. Lara and Blackout rescue Andrew, but Lara soon discovers that what they thought was Andrew is a clever doppelganger in league with the succubus. The real Andrew has been in a state of coma, dreaming in the branches of the Tree...

Blackout had expected the emotion he felt upon finding Andrew would be elation. Instead, he found himself shifting between pity, helplessness, and a mounting horror. His friend was emaciated; a living skeleton. His eyes had fluttered open for a moment when Lara had bravely administered CPR, but they'd quickly closed and he'd curled into a fetal position. He reminded Blackout of pictures he'd seen of the guy they dug out of the bog in Europe.

"We need to get him to the Tree," Lara said sharply, pulling Blackout of his stupor.

"If he lives that long," Blackout said under his breath, and ran to the bedroom to tear sheets off the bed. It was clear that Andrew's doppelganger didn't sleep. What did he need sleep for though, when he could drain the vitality of those around him? First Andrew, and then the Tree.

"It is a very dark and secret line of midrashic legend surrounding the tales of the Nephilim," said Cooper, after Blackout and Lara had sat back down in his office, the door safely shut behind them. "The Lilitu are said to have been the demon spawn of Lilith...the first wife of Adam."

"I thought Adam's wife was named Eve."

"In Jewish Legend, Eve is Adam's second wife. The first was made from the same clay as Adam, and refused to give him children. There are also legends that say she was not created at all, but was rather part of the Chaos that existed before God created the heavens and the earth. Whatever her origin, she is said to be the mother of the lilitu...and the consort of Samael, a fallen angel. Their children are said to have had sexual intercourse with humans, prior to the flood...it was one of the acts which enraged God enough to destroy the world in a deluge. These children were called the Nephilim, which means 'those who cause others to fall.' To fall in fear and terror at the sight of them."

"So what does any of this have to do with Andrew's double?" Lara asked.

"Human females who produced Nephilim did so through normal childbirth, which purportedly always ended in their death. The demon females who took the seed of human males used it to craft a special type of golem...one that would resemble the 'sperm donor' in every way possible...even memories. As a result, these golem were not stupid, shambling clay hulks, but terrible mockeries of their twin. They would replace that person in society, given that they derived their power from consuming the original."

"Consuming? As in eating them?" Lara had asked, her face white as a sheet.

"That is how many have interpreted the passages in the book of Enoch about the Nephilim, but the word used there is akal, which is used both for eating, as well as fire devouring its fuel. There is a little known midrash which supposes that akal, used in reference to the Nephilim, referred to their ability to drain the strength of others."

Blackout and Lara sat, gaping.

"When you say it could drain others, what would happen to this strength?" Blackout stammered.

"It would add to their own. It is why the Nephilim are reputed to be the heroes of old. As they drained others' strength, they grew in might and power."

"Could they drain other things than humans?" Lara asked.

"They were said to be a blight upon the land. I would guess that they were able to take power from the earth itself...plant, animal...whatever had ruach, or life within it."

There had been an uncomfortable silence, and then Dr. Cooper had risen and opened a glass display case at the top of a bookshelf. He withdrew a beautiful, golden piece of jewelry.

"This is an amulet, inscribed with the names of three angels... Jewish parents who believe in the lilitu placed them around the necks of newborn boys in order to protect them from the demons until they were circumcised." "The lilitu can't attack men who are circumcised?" Blackout asked, his face brightening up. "That is correct," said Dr. Cooper.

"Score!" Blackout had shouted, standing up and raising his arms in the air before realizing what he was doing. Lara was looking at the floor and stifling a nervous laugh.

Dr. Cooper handed the amulet to Lara. "Obviously, your friend here doesn't need this. But you might." Lara looked up into Dr. Cooper's face, trying to form words to explain everything. "I don't know what's going on, and I'm not really sure I want to," he said. "But neither of you asked the sort of questions students writing papers do. You both sounded like you were looking for a survival manual. I don't have anything like that, but I do have this amulet. Just bring it back when you're done with it. It's been in my family for a very, very long time." He had stopped them once again at the door. "I should add that the amulet will do nothing to protect you from the Nephilim."

Blackout shuddered. He had seen the Ur-Andrew when he and Lara had dropped by the shop, under the pretense that Lara had lost her i-pod and thought she might have left it in the staff room. Real Andrew had a slim build; big enough shoulders, but not much meat on the bones. The Nephilim looked like Andrew on steroids. Every move he made strained the shirt he was wearing, and it appeared that he'd gained an inch or two in height. He certainly wasn't fooling anyone with his 'recovering sick guy' act anymore. He had noticed Blackout staring at him, and raised an eyebrow.

"Something bothering you Mark?" the faux Andrew had asked, a hint of menace in his voice.

"I was just noticing...it, uh, looks like you've been hitting the gym," Blackout said.

"Yeah," Not-Andrew said, his eyes narrowed suspiciously. "I figured it would help me recover from...everything that happened."

"Sure," Blackout replied. "Looking good buddy, looking good."

But Blackout was certain the Nephilim hadn't bought it. The way he'd looked at Lara when she'd emerged from the back room, his eyes cold and staring, Blackout was pretty sure he knew they were onto him. At least that they figured something was up.

"Was Julie there?" Blackout asked.

Lara nodded. "She was sitting in the back room, looking through this really old book. Had all sorts of calligraphy or hieroglyphics or some shit. Diagrams with inverted pentagrams, the classic Satanist shit. Like it was the fucking Necronomicon or something." She was wide eyed, and shaking a bit. "I told her I was looking for my I-pod, and she said she hadn't seen it, and I pretended to look around a bit. She didn't even close the book. Like she could have cared less that I saw her reading it."

"Andrew...I mean...the Nephilim was pretty bold too. It's like they know we're onto them."

"Yeah, that's what I thought too," Lara said, "But they don't care, because they're close to doing whatever it is they're going to do..."

"And they think we can't stop them," Blackout finished.

"What do we do now?" Lara said.

"We need to go and find the real Andrew," Blackout said.

"You think he's still alive?"

"I don't know," Blackout replied, heading towards the downtown. "But if he is and we don't search every inch of that apartment for him...I don't think he'll be of much use to them once they've done whatever it is they're going to do."

Breaking into Andrew's apartment was getting to be old hat. They'd smashed the lock and entered without much effort, then quickly turned the apartment upside down; Andrew was in the apartment's tiny storage room on a sleeping bag, naked. His breathing was shallow when they entered the room, his body convulsing in little twitches. Then suddenly, without warning, he had gasped, and stopped breathing entirely. Lara had acted quickly, administering CPR as gently as she could, given Andrew's emaciated, palsied state. He'd started breathing again, his eyes had flickered open, and he whispered, "It was so much brighter over there..." before lapsing back into unconsciousness.

All the events of the day were rushing through Blackout's mind as he carried Andrew's frail body, wrapped in a blankets, towards the back stairs of the apartment. Lara was holding the door open for him, looking over his shoulder, when her eyes went wide and she screamed at Blackout, "RUN!"

Episode 23 : Without an Inkling

2007-10-19T15:13:00.000-06:00

What has gone before: Andrew Weazle, the owner of a coffee shop trades the Friday night deposit in return for 'magic coffee beans', which cause a massive ash tree to grow overnight inside the shop. Following this miraculous weekend, Andrew leaves work in the company of a fatally attractive woman who turns out to be a succubus, a demon which steals human life force through sexual contact. Lara and Blackout rescue Andrew, but Lara soon discovers that what they thought was Andrew is a clever doppelganger in league with the succubus. The real Andrew is still missing...

Andrew couldn't recall how long he'd been sitting at the cafe at the top of the Tree. In fact, he had difficulty remembering much of anything. What filled his thoughts most, was that the squirrel who was working as the barista here made the best coffee he had ever tasted.

"Is it the beans?" he asked when the squirrel offered him a second cup. "Something like the Kpoi Luwak?"

"No shit coffee!" the squirrel replied emphatically. "Just beans from the Tree!" The squirrel talked like one imagined a squirrel would, like a verbal chain gun, spitting out syllables with a rapidity that only sustained proximity to caffeinated drinks made possible.

He'd wondered at that. "I don't know much about botany, but I'm pretty sure Ash trees don't produce coffee beans--or any kind of consumable product for that matter. Hell, I doubt you could make tea out of the leaves."

"Not Ash Tree!" the squirrel said. "Aaaaaaaxis Muuuuundiiiii!"

He knew the term. They'd discussed it in one of his religious studies classes. In organizing sacred space, or cosmology, almost all cultures featured a central pillar, tree, mountain, ziggurat, temple or city around which the rest of the universe was organized. The scholarly term Mircea Eliade had popularized for this ritualization of space was the axis mundi. He could buy that the Tree he was currently sitting at the top of was an axis mundi, but how was that connected to the tree in the coffee shop? Why was he even thinking about the two trees in the same thought? The tree in the shop was a regular sized tree, however fast it had grown to maturity. The Tree he was sitting at the top of was massive enough to be seen from space.

"Mind if we sit down?" said a deep, resonant voice.

Andrew realized he'd heard the sound of a bus driving up and stopping, the door opening and closing, but had ignored it because he was so entranced by the vision of the Tree, and musing about the axis mundi. He turned around to see three men standing on the wooden patio deck of the cafe. The one in the middle was clearly the speaker, as he had a look of expectancy on his face.

Andrew motioned with his hand to the empty seats around his table, and the three men sat down. The squirrel darted from behind the coffee bar with three cups of tea on a tray.

"Axis Mundi Tea," the squirrel said to Andrew with a wink, and darted away again.

"Not quite the Bird and the Baby," the deep voiced man said to his companions, but loud enough to include Andrew, "but it has a hell of a view, and Ratty's a good enough fellow." He smiled and produced a cigarette from his jacket and lit it, before extending a hand across the table. "I'm Jack."

Andrew took the hand and shook it. "Andrew."

The others introduced themselves with handshakes as well. John, seated to Jack's left, was a long faced man with a Roman nose, his hair combed very neatly. Unlike Jack, whose shirt open at the collar in an unkempt fashion, John had his tie knotted in a very proper Windsor. He produced a pipe and packed tobacco into it while Andrew made his greeting to Charles, a rather homely fellow on Jack's right who wore thick spectacles and had a glum look about him.

"Makes a splendid tea," said John, lighting his pipe and puffing it into life.

"Still not a replacement for a pint Tollers," Jack said in reply. "At least its not the vile stuff our lad is drinking."

"I've grown rather fond of it myself," Charles said. "Especially when there's a cool breeze flowing out of the West."

"Bitter tastes for bitter temperaments," Jack laughed, and Andrew laughed with him, despite his utter lack of knowledge about what was so funny.

The three men talked about a number of things, and argued about as many. Jack effortlessly drew Andrew into their circle, and while he felt entirely out of his depth, found himself animatedly bantering with them from time to time, especially on matters of literature. He kept trying to guess their ages, but the concept kept eluding him, as though age were not something to be considered above the verdant expanse of this massive Tree, with a sun more golden than any he'd ever seen before shining down on them.

"We'd best get to business," John said at length. "We didn't come here for chit-chat, pleasant as it has been."

"Right you are," Jack said. "I'd say your the best man for the job here Tollers."

"Why me?" John asked. "We all played our parts when the Tree was ours to protect."

"Yours," Jack said. "We all signed on to help, but the responsibility was always yours alone. C.W. didn't even come along until after you were given the job."

"I don't understand," Andrew said. "Do you mean this Tree?" he asked, pointing down to the green sea, undulating in a light warm breeze beneath them.

"Yes," John said. "And no. This Tree cannot be guarded by any one man. But it has...manifestations in the worlds it ties together. And those manifestations can be guarded. I was given guardianship over one such tree...many years ago."

"They took a photograph of him under it," Jack said. "He was much older than he looks right now when they did it...but that was the Tree all the same."

"Christopher's taking care of it these days, isn't he?" Charles asked in a tone that sounded like an attempt at amicability, like he wanted to be more familiar with John than he might be in actuality.

John nodded, and smiled at Charles with a twinge of regret in his face. He turned to Andrew. "Do you know any Norse mythology, young Andrew?"

"I took a class in it," Andrew replied. "Got a little bursary from the 'Sons of Norway' for getting a decent grade."

"Money for beer or books?" Jack asked with a smile.

"Books," Andrew replied.

"Good lad," John said. "You know what Yggdrasil is then, don't you?"

"I do," Andrew said, and then his jaw dropped. He looked down at the massive Tree. "Is this Yggdrasil?"

"Yes...and again, no," John replied. "Yggdrasil is a perception of the Tree, but the Tree is not Yggdrasil. The Tree you've been entrusted with is a part of this Tree, just as the Tree I was entrusted with was as well. But guarding one of these manifestations of the World Tree is too much for any one person to bear. It takes many hands. A community. A...group of companions. I might have to rely on Charles to explain this. He had a theory about it all. Co-dependence, or some such rot."

"Co-inherence," Charles corrected, ignoring John's jibe. "It was an idea that came to me during the Great War. Simply put, it is that all things are connected. Like the worlds are connected through the Tree, so we are connected to one another. We do nothing alone. Our actions impact the world around us."

"Chaos theory," Andrew said.

"Except that it is Chaos that we are holding back," John said. "The Tree, however tangled its growth, is about Order. And those entrusted with the care of the Tree in all its manifestations are charged with the keeping of Order, and the resistance of Chaos."

Andrew sat there, silent, trying to take it all in. "So you're saying I need to recruit some other people to help me take care of the tree in the coffee shop?"

"I can tell just from the way you say 'tree' that you aren't comprehending the scope of your commission," John said.

"Tollers loves trees," Jack said. "Don't get him started. He'll go on for hours about branches and leaves. Wrote a bloody short story about it."

"It's more than that, and you know it Jack." John shot the man a look. "We weren't sent here for tea and coffee. We were sent to help him understand."

"And we've clearly done a brilliant job of confusing him all the more," Jack said.

"What you need to know," said Charles, leaning forward and fixing his intense gaze upon Andrew, "Is that if you attempt to do this alone, you will die. The forces of Chaos have already made an attempt on your life. It will not be the last."

"But your preservation is not our greatest concern," said John. "The work that has been done due to your negligence could very well allow Chaos to gain access to the Tree in a way which could poison it at its very roots...blacken the entire Tree and swallow the universe with it."

Andrew swallowed cold coffee hard. He had enjoyed the earlier conversation a great deal more. Suddenly, he felt a tug, as though someone had pulled his chair from behind.

"Looks like there's still life left in your bones," Jack said. "Still enough of your quickening spirit left to return home it seems. Not ready to board the bus just yet."

Andrew was about to ask Jack what he meant when the golden tableau was yanked out from his vision as though it had been a painted backdrop on a theater stage, and he found coming to in a dark, dank closet. Someone was leaning over him, and he could hear exclamations of excitement, though they made no sense to him.

He was naked, cold and shivering, and fairly sure he was laying in his own filth. He had really enjoyed the earlier conversation much, much more.

Episode 22: How to pronounce Golem

2007-10-10T13:01:00.000-06:00

Episode 21: Why Andrew Stinks

2007-10-04T10:59:00.000-06:00

What has gone before: Andrew Weazle, the owner of a coffee shop trades the Friday night deposit in return for 'magic coffee beans', which cause a massive ash tree to grow overnight inside the shop. Following this miraculous weekend, Andrew leaves work in the company of a fatally attractive woman who turns out to be a succubus, a demon which steals human life force through sexual contact. Rescued by Lara and Blackout, Andrew returns to work in a weakened state, with the demon still at large...

Lara lay there, holding her breath. Had the tree just talked to her?

She wanted to ask another question, hopefully solicit another response. But before she could open her lips, she heard the sound of the tumblers in the lock of the door to the shop.

Someone is coming.

She rolled over quickly, and spread apart the leaves and branches beneath her enough to see down into the shop. Her high vantage point afforded her a view of the front door, and most of the floor--the coffee bar was out of sight, as was the storage room. In the shadows of the entry way, the door swung open, and two figures stepped inside.

It was Andrew, and the new girl--Julie.

"You really think you're strong enough to do this already?" Julie asked Andrew.

"Absolutely," Andrew replied.

Do what? Lara wondered.

Andrew crossed the room directly beneath Lara's vantage point, and then out of her view. She wanted desperately to get up and climb down the Tree do demand to know what was going on, but fear of being discovered kept her hidden. The the utter lack of expression on Andrew's face had sent a shiver of fear down her spine.

Get a grip! she told herself. It's just Andrew!

But who was Andrew, really? How much did she know about him? She assumed he was a good person, but what if he wasn't? He had obviously lied about several things. He wasn't as sick as he'd let on earlier today - the stood was gone, the circles around the eyes less pronounced--although Lara would have preferred sunken eyes to that soulless gaze. And he obviously knew Julie better than he'd made out as well...but why the act? Did he think Lara would have been upset that he wanted to hire a friend? If that was what Julie was...

This is ridiculous! Just go down and talk to him and find out what's going on! What was the worst that would happen? He'd fire her? There was a boom going on in Alberta - jobs like this were available everywhere! And then she'd be free of this whole mess...free of worrying about Andrew...free of taking care of...the Tree.

She couldn't leave the Tree. The Fates said she was one of them...it was her job to safeguard the Tree, to watch over it. The awareness of her charge filled her with resolve, and she tensed to move, to get up, to climb down and demand to know what the hell was going on.

Even as she started to shift her position, her headache came back with a vengeance. The pain shot into her with bright, stabbing pain, and it was all she could do not to cry out. Her eyes rolled into the back of her head and she bit down on her lip hard enough to draw blood. Visions flickered in her mind as though viewed under a strobe light...she could see Andrew's face...he was reaching down, touching her...no, not her...the Tree. And she could see his lips moving...saying something, chanting, but she couldn't make out the words. Julie, looking over his shoulder, but Julie's face was shifting with each flash of the strobe...

Flash...a demure girl with mouse brown hair dressed in prudish clothing that made her look like she would be voted most-likely-to-become-a-librarian...

Flash...the blonde-tressed porn-star lookalike Andrew had left the coffee shop with...

Flash...a dark form, a feline silhouette with yellow glowing eyes...

The pain was nearly overwhelming her, if only she could reach out to that life-giving sap, drink it in and feel its healing rush through her...and then she felt the connection.

The sap...no, the honey...what the Greeks had called meli in ancient times, the soma of the Tree...and something was wrong with it...it wasn't just that Andrew was taking energy from it...he was trying to taint it.

Her fury was instantaneous. Kneeling, prostrate, gripping the sides of the branch, her head placed against the great limb, she raged through her pain, and caught a glimpse of Andrew being thrown back, away from the Tree to crash into the coffee bar. His lower back struck, painfully, and he crumpled to the ground.

The pain stopped abruptly, as did her connection to the Tree. She collapsed, panting.

"Something's opposing me," she heard Andrew say.

"I said you weren't ready," Julie replied. "The Tree is still too strong...and now it knows. Dammit! We should have waited!"

"You were the one who was in such a hurry!" Andrew replied. "If I'd had more time to absorb his aura, perhaps the Tree wouldn't have retaliated!"

His aura? Lara wondered.

"It couldn't know!" Julie shouted. "The spell was perfect! You are perfect! Made from the same clay all humans are! Mixed with the shit and cum of that meat puppet and given life by that inscription on your head!"

What inscription? Lara wondered...she hadn't seen any inscription...

"Keep your voice down!" Andrew said...but was it really Andrew? "What if it hears us?"

"It doesn't speak human," Julie replied. "It can sense them and feel their presence, but it does not speak as they do."

Then who spoke to me?

"We need more power," Julie said. "We need to wait. In three days the Ice Moon will wane, and in the deepest darkness of its passing, our strength will be greatest."

"Saturday then," Andrew said.

"Saturday," Julie replied.

Lara pressed her face to the opening in the foliage just in time to see the pair walk to the door and exit the shop. She waited until she heard the lock click, and then looked at her watch, waiting a full five minutes before rising to a crouch. She monkeyed her way back down the Tree, and hopped down from the branch to the coffee bar, and then down onto the tile floor, cool beneath her bare feet.

She raced through the staff room, and down the stairs into the basement, grabbing the flashlight as she ran down.

We really need to put a bulb in down here, she thought as she flipped the light on and peered through the darkness.

"Ima? Terry? Hatima?" she called.

"We're here child," Terry said, emerging from the shadows.

"Then why the hell didn't you do anything?" she shouted. She was still infuriated by the invasive quality of the Andrew-thing's attempt to taint the Tree. It had felt like rape.

"We only just returned," Ima said. "We were...away."

"Away? Since when do you get vacations?"

"We go out from time to time," Terry said, a mild pique in her voice. "We're the Tree's guardians, not its nursemaids."

"And what was so important that it took precedence over being near the Tree, only a week after what happened to Andrew?"

"Saffire were in Banff," Ima said. "It wasn't but a short distance to go, and it's been a while since we've seen them."

"Saffire...what's that?" Lara said. "Some council, or special order of mystical beings?"

"It's the actual name of the Uppity Blues Women," Terry replied. "We haven't seen them play in a long while."

"Well, the next time you plan on going out to a concert, you let me know!" Lara said through gritted teeth.

"Why are you so upset?" Terry asked. "We sensed the attack and came as quick as we could. We knew you were here and that you would guard the Tree, which you did."

Lara suddenly had a problem remaining quite as upset as she'd been to that moment. "Well...that's not the point."

"Yes it is," Hatima said. Lara's anger subsided against a tide of wild surprise. Hatima had actually spoken. Hatima continued in a thick Jamaican accent. "You're speaking like a child. Which you are not. The Tree has endured in all the worlds through countless ages, and it will endure beyond the plots and plans of the lilitu. That does not mean we should not be vigilant. But vigilance does not mean staring at the Tree all day. It means making provision. We made provision. You are our provision. Our sister. And you were here to do exactly what we would have done."

There was a poignant silence following Hatima's speech.

"I'm done talkin' now," she said.

"There's been enough talk already," Terry said. "We need to act, immediately. We will stay here to guard the Tree Lara. You need to find that young man of yours and seek out a rabbi, as soon as you can."

"A rabbi?" Lara asked. And who did they mean by 'that young man of yours'? Andrew? No...they meant Mark.

"Yes, a rabbi," Ima replied. "I now understand why 'Andrew' had a lingering stench of evil upon him. That thing that appears to be Andrew? It's a golem."

Episode 20: Rockabye Lara

2007-09-30T23:26:00.000-06:00

Episode 19: Lying in Bed, just like Brian Wilson did

2007-09-13T14:13:00.000-06:00

What has gone before: Andrew Weazle, the owner of a coffee shop trades the Friday night deposit in return for 'magic coffee beans', which cause a massive ash tree to grow overnight inside the shop. Following this miraculous weekend, Andrew leaves work in the company of a fatally attractive woman. When he does not return for several days, Lara and Blackout seek to find out what has happened to him. A dark presence attacks Lara as she attempts to enter Andrew's apartment, wounding her badly. Blackout takes Lara to the Fates, servants of the Tree, who heal her with the Tree's life-giving magic. The Fates reveal that Lara's attacker was a succubus, a demon that steals the human life force through sexual contact...

"Do you think it matters that it's steel?" Blackout asked Lara as they stepped out of the elevator to Andrew's apartment. "I mean...steel's mostly iron."

"I think hitting that bitch with a shovel will be good therapy for me," Lara replied, hefting the item in question. "I shouldn't have to put up with this crazy shit for what Andrew's paying me."

They stopped in front of Andrew's door. "Deja vu all over again," Blackout said, adopting a batter's stance...with a sledge hammer instead of the requisite Louisville Slugger. "You ready?"

"Just make sure you hit the lock directly," Lara said.

Blackout nodded. Knock three times on the ceiling, even in a big city, and there might be at least one Samaritan on the floor who'd knock twice on the pipes to the cops. Especially in the middle of the day. They had decided to return in daylight, hoping that there was a connection between nightfall and the lilitu's power.

Blackout took a deep breath, focused on the deadbolt, and swung hard. There was a loud CRACK accompanied by a high pitched TANG as the head of the hammer connected with the deadbolt and sent it flying into the apartment along with fragments of the door. Lara raised her foot, sheathed in her best pair of knee high Doc Martens and kicked the door, splintering the frame as it tore loose and swung inward on strained hinges.

There was silence in the hall. And silence within the apartment. Blackout gave a quick nod to Lara to get inside, and they stepped through one after the other.

The stench of fecal matter, wet animal, ammonia, and lingering traces of chlorine smell was still present, but not nearly as pervasive. Shafts of sunlight peeked in through the drawn curtains in the living room and kitchen. Blackout swung the broken door closed and braced it with one of Andrew's shoes. Lara was brandishing the shovel like it was a pole-arm, peeking around the corner, into the bedroom.

Andrew lay naked and unconscious, partially covered by one of his sheets. Lara advanced slowly into the room with Blackout close behind.

"Check him," Lara said, cautiously opening the closet with her boot with the shovel ready to strike.

Blackout crossed to Andrew's sleeping form and knelt beside the bed. Andrew's eyes were sunken and his lips were cracked. His muscles seemed to have a life of their own, twitching spasmodically from time to time.

"He's badly dehydrated," Blackout said. "I'm going to the kitchen to get him some water." He stood up, placing the hammer beside the bed and ran to the kitchen.

Lara walked to the window and drew the curtains aside. The winter sun invaded the dim twilight of the room, falling upon Andrew. He stirred, moaning. Blackout returned with water and a wet cloth. He dabbed the cloth on Andrew's lips.

"We need to get him to a hospital," Blackout said.

"Or take him to the Fates," Lara suggested.

"He doesn't need magic," Blackout replied. "He needs his electrolytes restored...he just needs medical attention."

"Where the hell is she?" Lara said, walking to the bedroom door and looking into the bathroom. "She's not here...but the door was still jammed like before. How did she get out?"

"She's a demon," Blackout replied, dabbing more water on Andrew's mouth, which was partially open now. He squeezed drops of water into it. "Maybe she has wings like a bat and flew away. Who knows? Who cares? I'll be honest, I'm glad she's not here."

"I'm not," Lara said. "I want a re-match."

Andrew stirred again and his eyes fluttered open. "Blackout?" he whispered. "What are you doing?"

"Saving your life I hope," Blackout replied.

Lara crossed to the bed and looked down at Andrew. His gaze moved to her, and he squinted his eyes. "You're the girl I hired," he said. "Lori?"

"Lara," she said. "Where is the...?" She paused. He might know what had happened. "Where is the girl you brought home."

"Gone," Andrew replied.

"How long ago?" Lara asked.

Andrew shook his head weakly. "Don't know," he croaked, and closed his eyes again.

"We're phoning an ambulance," Blackout said. "He needs--"

Andrew's eyes went wide and he grabbed Blackout's forearm. "No," he said, a firm resolution in his voice. "Don't want anyone to know..." He swallowed hard. "What I did."

Blackout shivered. He realized that Andrew would have difficult questions to answer in an emergency room about how he'd ended up in this condition. Blackout had no idea what sort of damage a sex demon would leave a victim with, but it was clear Andrew didn't want it to be on public record.

"You might die," Blackout said.

"Won't die," Andrew said. "Promise."

Blackout shook his head. "All right. I'll run down to the store to get some Gatorade, and we'll hope for the best." He looked at Lara. "You okay to stay here, or would you prefer to go get the juice?"

"I'll stay here," Lara said, tightening her grip on the shovel. "In case devil woman's just out for a quick bite or a smoke."

Blackout smiled at her, then looked down at Andrew, who was asleep again. "You're a lucky son of a bitch," he said quietly. "The whole province has labor issues, and you hire Xena for a barista."

Lara laughed. "Lucy Lawless is taller than me, and skinnier."

"Nowhere near as hot," Blackout replied and looked directly into Lara's eyes. She smiled, a genuine look of appreciation for the comment in her eyes. Blackout could tell it didn't mean they'd be finishing off the day with a movie, but they might get around to it someday, if he didn't push things. Good time for an exit, he thought, and stood up, leaving the glass of water and the cloth on the bedside table. He got to his feet and headed for the door.

"Hurry back," Lara said.

"You'll be all right?"

"Hey...I'm Xena, right?"

He nodded, and walked out. On his way out the front door, he picked up the ruined deadbolt and shoved it back in the hole. It wouldn't pass a close inspection, but hopefully it would do until they could get Andrew back on his feet. He stepped into the hallway, and jogged towards the elevator, smiling. Nowhere near as hot, he thought, that kicked ass.

* * * * * *

Lara opened the window to the bedroom. The air was crisp and cold, but a welcome change from the stink inside the apartment. From the stains on the bed, she surmised Andrew had been lying there for quite some time, unable to move in his weakened state. She drew in a breath of fresh air, then returned to the bedside. She looked up warily at the open closet, remembering Terry's words.

Monsters travel through closets...Everyone knows that.

Is that how you got out of here? she wondered. And what were you here for in the first place? She looked down at Andrew. "What did she want with you?" she mused out loud.

"Not me," Andrew croaked in his sleep. "The Tree."

Episode 18: How to get a clown off a swing

2007-09-06T17:07:00.000-06:00

* * * * *

"A holy weapon?" Lara said, a frown wrinkling her features. "I was expecting something involving chalk and a pentagram."

"Well, we could go that route," Blackout said. "The trouble is, the caster has to effectively replace the succubus while chanting the incantation, which means..."

Lara's eyes widened. "I understand what it means Mark," she said, cutting Blackout off. "So tell me more about the holy weapon."

"Any blessed piece of iron can be used," Blackout said.

"And what sort of blessing do we need?" Lara asked. "Like a priest, or a rabbi?"

"It doesn't matter who blesses it, so long as there's faith behind the blessing and the person who wields it."

"Seems a little too easy," Lara replied.

"Well, we could always climb a volcanic mountain to get the piece of iron," Blackout said sarcastically.

The sun was starting to come up. Lara was still bundled in a blanket Blackout had retrieved from his car's winter emergency kit, sipping fresh coffee she'd brewed for the two of them. The Fates were playing a game of Dutch Blitz, which Hatima was currently winning.

"Any piece of metal, eh?" Lara mused. "It's like the joke about the clown off of a swing."

"I don't think I know that one," Blackout admitted.

Lara gave a smile that showed her teeth. And reached her eyes. Blackout would have laughed at the worst knock-knock joke in that moment.

"How do you get a clown off a swing?" Lara asked.

Blackout grinned and shrugged his shoulders.

"With a shovel," Lara replied.

"Got one of those in the basement," Terry called from across the room.

Episode 17: Desiring Dragons

2007-08-23T17:38:00.000-06:00

What has gone before: Andrew Weazle, the owner of a failing coffee shop trades the Friday night deposit in return for 'magic coffee beans'. After dumping coffee made by the beans into a potted bonsai tree, a massive ash tree mysteriously grows overnight inside the shop. Following a miraculous weekend which saves the coffee shop, Andrew leaves work in the company of a fatally attractive woman. When he does not return for several days, Lara and Blackout attempt to find out what has happened to him. A dark presence attacks Lara as she attempts to enter Andrew's apartment, wounding her badly. Blackout takes Lara to the Fates, servants of the Tree, who heal her with the Tree's life-giving magic...

Have to believe we are magic
Nothing can stand in our way...

The lyrics to an Olivia Newton Song from a really terrible early 80's film kept running through Blackout's mind as he listened to Lara tell her story - the truth this time, nothing kept secret. How she'd come in for her first day of work to find the Tree fully grown, Andrew asleep in its branches. How she'd met the three women...three fates he reminded himself, and found out that she was apparently one of them, to which Terry had added, "nothing apparent about it. It just is."

Come take my hand
You should know me...

He'd figured Lara was special, but finding out the girl you're interested in is a Fate...whatever the hell that meant...wasn't that like finding out she was a Nun or something? Were Fates allowed to date?

I've always been in your mind
You know I will be kind
I'll be guiding you

Guiding me where? Blackout wondered. He was having a lot of trouble taking it all in. It was one thing entirely to desire dragons when polyhedron dice were involved. It was another thing entirely to desire them on your street. Or in your coffee shop. But it wasn't a dragon they were dealing with. Just a sex demon. He chuckled to himself.

"Something funny?" Terry asked.

"Well, earlier this evening I was imagining a world where magic was possible...and thinking how great that would be." Blackout took a drink of the incredibly strong coffee Hatima had brewed once Lara had come around to consciousness. "Now that it's really actually possible...I'm wondering if it's really so great."

"That's because your first introduction to the magic was demonic...diabolical magic," Ima said. "Imagine if the first thing you'd seen--really seen, for what it truly is, had been the Tree."

"The Tree's pretty damn scary if you ask me," Blackout said, looking up at the dark green canopy above him. "I mean, what's the point? Why is it here?"

"Like asking why the sky is blue," Ima replied.

"I'm sorry, but that cryptic bullshit's not going to cut it much longer," Lara said. "I nearly got myself killed tonight, and I think what's going on with Andrew is somehow connected to the Tree being here. If I'm really part of your little sisterhood, then I want some straight answers."

Building your dream
Has to start now
There's no other road to take
You won't make a mistake
I'll be guiding you

Blackout realized he was tapping his toe in time to the music in his head. Hatima was looking at his foot as though she might hack it off. He stopped tapping.

"You're right," Ima said. "We've not told you enough to know how to handle things. The Tree likely attracted the succubus' attention--for what reason I can't yet say, though I have my theories. All magical creatures can sense the Tree...they are drawn to it."

"But why?" Lara asked.

"It's a gateway," Ima said. "A gateway between the worlds you call reality and the ones called magic. And magical creatures can travel between the world using the Tree."

"So the succubus used the Tree to get here?"

"No," Terry interjected. "The day she came in and left with Andrew was the first time we sensed her power. She came into this world via another doorway. Likely a closet."

"A closet?" Blackout said.

"Monsters travel through closets," Terry replied. "Everyone knows that."

"And I suppose Leprechauns travel on rainbows," Blackout said.

"Actually, they do," Terry said matter-of-factly.

"But why would the succubus choose Andrew as her prey?" Lara asked. "I mean, with all the men in the world, why Andrew?"

"He's the guardian of the Tree," Ima said. "Many dark powers will want to control Andrew, and by controlling him control access to the Tree." She saw the look of confusion on Lara and Blackout's faces. "No one can travel the Tree without the permission of the guardian in the world they are traveling from."

Blackout looked over at the Tree and wondered how exactly one went about this 'traveling'. Were there magic words to be spoken? A little dance to do? A virgin to be sacrificed? He supposed the latter was unlikely...tough to find a lot of those in this day and age.

"Well, this is all fascinating," he said, "but it currently isn't doing Andrew any good, guardian or no if that thing is sucking the life out of him while we sit here discussing it all."

"Yeah," Lara said. "We need to know how to kill this thing. Do you know how we can do that?" She looked at the three fates pleadingly.

"We're in charge of tending the Tree," Terry said. "Our lore is of the Tree, not all the creatures that roam in its branches. We know some of their names, like this lilitu, but we've never had to face one ourselves."

"I might know," Blackout said. Lara looked at him with surprise and hope through those striking eyes and he felt a little nervous butterfly in his stomach.

And if all your hopes survive
Destiny will arrive
I'll bring all your dreams alive
For you
I'll bring all your dreams alive
For you

"I mean...it might say how to kill one in my gaming books."

"Gaming books?" Lara asked, incredulous. The hope had drained out of her eyes. "This isn't a game Mark! It's the real world!" She stopped short after saying that and wrinkled her nose. "Or a reasonable facsimile thereof."

"The guys who write those books research their stuff in folklore and legend. It's as good a resource as any we're going to have." He felt like some poor man's version of Giles off Buffy the Vampire Slayer. "It's better than nothing. Rutherford library won't be open until morning."

Lara shrugged her shoulders.

"It's worth a try I suppose."

Blackout nodded and got up from his chair, quaffing the last of his coffee in one hearty gulp. It felt good to be doing something. Sitting here and thinking about all this craziness was starting to get to him.

"I'll come and let you know as soon as I find something," he said, walking to the door and throwing his coat on. He stepped out into the night air, it's brisk chill hitting him with its harsh reality. For a moment, it all seemed absolutely mad. Perhaps it was.

But there was the blood on the back seat of his car. And the three women standing in the shop with Lara. And Andrew was still missing.

You've always desired dragons, he thought. And you might not have wanted them on your street, but now they're here, and the question you have before you is simply...what are you going to do about it?

It was like having Ian McKellen running around in his head.

He flipped open his cell phone and hit the speed dial. Three rings...

"Hello?" Riptide said.

"I'm glad you're still up," Blackout said. "I need you to meet me at the shop, right away."

Episode 16: A Virtual Stranger

2007-08-20T19:46:00.000-06:00