*
Ragnar moved to his left, out of direct view of the windows. He glanced at the building once more before turning to the woman who spoke to him. Under the stark lighting of the street lamp she leaned casually against, it was difficult to discern much of her appearance. Petite in her humanly-unseen true form, the female wore a long, dark bundled coat with the hem of a yellow dress hanging below, but still revealed her bare feet. The large hood of the coat left her face in shadow, save for the faint glow of huge, amber eyes. As he regarded her, she manifested herself into virtually the same form.
Hastily, Ragnar asked, "What do you know of all this?"
With barely a shrug, she replied, "In this community, not much escapes my attention. Since you seem to be searching for answers for an agenda that I cannot foresee, then I feel no inclination to assist you. Please take no offense, but it is not your welfare I'm concerned with."
"Then at least tell -" Ragnar was distracted by two figures who came hurriedly out of a set of double doors to his right, some twenty paces away.
"Hey! You! Asshole," Brody barked at Ragnar in the dark, quiet street as he stomped toward him with purpose. He noticed a small figure in a hooded coat - probably Oriana - behind the stranger, but paid her little mind. Simon was only a step behind and flanked his cousin's left side; he saw the broad young fella and the little girl in a hooded overcoat easily enough and wondered why they were such a threat.
Simon's eyes suddenly seemed to lose focus and regain clarity just as quickly. In the harsh light of the lonely streetlamp that cast stark shadows and illuminated the gentle snow, he saw what was truly there.
Stopping a few steps short of his cousin, Simon muttered, "Blue hell..." He didn't even see the after-image of Ragnar's manifestation; standing less than ten paces away was a nine-foot tall, muscular beast in a flimsy garment. It - he - looked vaguely human, but had an odd skin tone. Mustering his resolve to stand with his cousin, Simon moved forward again, slowly turning his fear into anger.
Ragnar thought to end any confrontation before it began as the big man, Lynch, and his friend closed the distance. Besides, he wanted them no closer; he felt a disconcerting sense about the blond man. Holding out a hand for them to stop, Ragnar laced his next words with glamour and said to the big man, "You need to halt and calm yourself."
Brody broke stride and came to a stop. He then blinked his eyes and an angry scowl returned to his face. He took another step toward the stranger and said through gritted teeth, "I got a better idea; how about you get the hell outta here before I beat the fairy piss out of you." His clenching fists made the short, hard sound of grinding stone.
Ragnar smelt the stone dust coming from Lynch at less than ten paces away, but a much more distressing scent came from his cohort. He realized why he felt uncomfortable with the blond man's presence; he had hand-wrought iron on him somewhere.
Simon took a stance next to his cousin. While he kept his eyes locked on the other two, he asked, "Who the fuck is the little girl, Brody? Do you know her? I already know the giant one is one of... them, because he sure as hell ain't human."
Brody edged to the side for a better view and replied, "They're both Other Crowd; fae." He glanced at Simon. "You can see him for what he really is?"
"Sure as shit, cousin." In a deft motion, Simon squatted, tugged his pant leg up, and pulled a blade from his cowboy boot. He resumed a pose of impending action, ready to pounce. The hooded girl and the inhuman giant visibly tensed. With a menacing glare, Simon said, "I got just the thing for both of you shit-heels. Take a break, cuz; I'll beef 'em both up for ya real quick."
Just as Simon started forward, Brody put a heavy hand on his cousin's shoulder. "Hold on a sec, Simon," he said while still looking forward, "the woman's no threat." Looking past the unknown fae, Brody said, "Hello again, Oriana. Don't tell me this ogre is a friend of yours."
"You think me an ogre?!" Ragnar asked indignantly.
Oriana softly replied, "Not a friend and barely an acquaintance, although he is no ogre. If he were one, then there would be no conversation. Battle would have already commenced, and I certainly wouldn't be here."
"Jesus, cuz," Simon whispered, "look at her eyes..."
Ignoring Simon, Brody pointed at the fae-man with a stony, gray finger. "Well, whatever the fuck you are, if you keep stalking Jane or anyone else around here, you'll have us to deal with. Got it?"
"I, Mr. Lynch, am a troll," Ragnar said with dignity, "and I have no idea who this Jane person is. Was she one of the two women with the gift of vision?"
"It looks that way, doesn't it? And that means you people can be seen around here." Brody suddenly frowned. "Wait a minute," he said, "how do you know my name?"
Ragnar ignored the question and asked with interest, "Do you have the sight as well?"
"No, but I trust what my friends tell me. What I can see for myself is that you came around, staring in the window like a pervert, scared the living hell out of an innocent girl, and then somehow broke half the shit on our table. In my book, people who do things like that usually deserve a good ass-kicking. Give me one good reason not to."
Putting his hands up in placation, Ragnar said, "It was not I who destroyed the glass and ceramic; the girl has the gift of the siren as well as vision. I am not here to intimidate or assault anyone. I was drawn to the window because of you."
"Me?"
"Are you not the son of Jerry Lynch, from Kansas City, in the province called Missouri, near the center of the United States?"
Brody tensed. "How the hell did you know my dad?"
The question was answer enough. Ragnar nodded to himself; he had no further questions of the big human, although he had quite a few of them in mind for the one called Oriana. To Brody, he said, "I am glad I was able to meet you, son of Jerry Lynch." He then focused on fogging the big man's mind to forget the encounter... and met with an incorporeal stone wall.
Brody gazed in return at the all-too human fae, "What the hell are you staring at, buddy? Oh wait, I got it; you're trying to make me forget, right? Well, Oriana has told others of your kind that it won't work on me. I guess you didn't get the memo. So unless you're gonna take back your 'grace' or whatever, then you're gonna have to deal with it like every other fae I've met."
Oriana said from beside the troubled troll, "Brody speaks the truth of it, good Ragnar; it has been tried and failed on numerous occasions. He also recovers quickly from the gift of suggestion, as you've seen. Is that another of your traits that he now shares?"
Ragnar was slightly surprised to find that the soft-spoken sprite had moved so quietly; Oriana was much closer, just off to his left, leaning against a water-streaked building wall. He was more surprised with what she said; he didn't realize how much of his abilities he'd invested in the annoyed human that stood before him.
Brody took another step closer and growled, "Let's get right down to it. I don't care if you meant to or not, you fucked with my friends and family. I don't react well to that. But I'll tell ya what; why don't you go ahead and take back your grace. Thanks all the same, but take it, and then wipe our memories clean of you so that you… people can stop bothering us. That way we can be done with you freaks."
Initially thinking that Lynch's heated suggestion would be the best course, and an obvious resolution to the broken laws of Enigma, Ragnar then contemplated the outcome of that action. The cleansing party would still come. Not only fae would be targets, but the gifted human women and the blond man would be, as well. Just by their ability to see fae, and most likely would react to what they saw, they would be in grave danger.
The law of Mortality forbade the killing of humans with no ties to the Lore, but those with vision were exempt from that safeguard. Lynch's gifted loved ones might need all the protection they could get, and he would do much better by them with his own gifts intact. Ragnar looked at Brody and said regretfully, "That wouldn't be prudent at this time."
Shaking his head and pursing his lips, Brod
y bit back his frustration before he said or did anything rash. Kate's words came to his mind; she'd rather they make friends than enemies. Brody decided to follow her advice, partly because he was starting to feel outnumbered by all the fae popping up around town. But before he could let his anger go completely, he pointed a finger at Ragnar and asked harshly, "What I want to know is how you knew my dad. Did you fuck with him? Did you have anything to do with the wreck?"
Simon saw his cousin's muscles bunching and flexing through his shirt. He stepped up next to Brody, waiting like a coiled spring. The knife in his hand gleamed in the lamp light, as if with equal anticipation.
Ragnar shook his head. "I did nothing unsavory toward your father. On the contrary, I graced his son - you - after he did me a great service, but then declined recompense."
After a moment of uneasy silence, Oriana said, "I can see that Ragnar speaks the truth of it, Brody; on that I give my word. He also has no malice in his aura, although your friend with the dangerous weapon certainly does." To Ragnar, she said, "You, sir, being a troll, are honor-bound to speak the truth and so I ask, do you mean Brody Lynch, the one you graced, or any of his loved ones any harm?"
Ragnar looked at Brody when he answered, "By my word, I do not."
Simon leaned toward his cousin and quietly asked, "Can we really take their word for it?"
Keeping his eyes on Ragnar, Brody nodded. "I was told by a fae I trust that trolls are, like, honorable, and have to keep their word."
"Yeah, but… even to us? Maybe that shit just goes for them."
Oriana interjected with an answer. "Please trust me when I say that Ragnar's true appearance would be unsettling for most mundane folk, as it now is for you, Mr. Rike. The question arises of how Jane mistook you for an ogre, good troll; how does she know what one is? Furthermore, I know her not to have the gift of vision, so how did she see through your manifestation?"
Ragnar looked at her, and she back at him with her hooded head cocked to the side. They shared a gaze that gave Brody the impression that they both realized the answer. There was a meaningful pause before Brody impatiently asked, "Okay, so how?"
"She has obviously visited the Lore, the same as your kinsman, apparently," Oriana said softly, "which makes one wonder who facilitated their travel, and why."
Looking at both of the fae, Brody took a deep breath and said, "Well, I guess we all have some questions, don't we?" He focused on Ragnar and said, "Look, I don't know why you're here, and I don't care, but your real, uh, form apparently scares the shit out of Jane. So keep outta her sight, okay? It'd freak her out, and I'd get pissed all over again, and then you and I would have to have another little chat. So let's just avoid all that, okay? I hate getting all worked up."
Bowing his head informally, Ragnar replied, "While I believe that my true appearance is nowhere near as loathsome as that of an ogre, I understand the girl's misconception and therefore take no offense. It has never been my intent to cause dread to a human. As for your anger, that emotion would be impotent without the gifts I graced you with, so have a care."
"And if it weren't for my even-tempered cousin here askin' me to pull in my reins," Simon said to them as he held his knife out, "I'd be sendin' the both of ya to the bone orchard." He pointed his gleaming blade from one to the other. "I don't give a shit if you're a little girl, or a giant in a bathrobe - ya both best mind yourselves."
Brody laid a calm hand on his cousin's shoulder and said, "Everything's okay now, Simon." He looked at him solemnly and nodded once in assurance. Simon looked back at Brody, nodded reluctantly in return, and sheathed his knife back in his boot.
Oriana got their attention again when she said, "I believe curious eyes might find us if we remain. Since I now know that you, Ragnar, have no dark designs, I will give you some of the answers you seek. To you, Brody, I can only suggest that you and your kinsman return to your company before they seek you out. In time, if you accept, I will visit with you again for any questions you may have."
"Oh, I bet you will," Brody said sarcastically, "as long as you get something out of it, right? If you'll remember, I don't make deals with you people."
Ragnar looked at Brody and then to Oriana, grinning. "He's no fool, and keeps dangerous company. I am somewhat heartened by those facts."
Oriana stepped away from the damp wall and said to the troll, "Then you may, in turn, explain why that is so. Would you care to walk with me?"
Seemingly oblivious of Brody and Simon, the two fae turned and walked off into the night. Ragnar and Oriana slowly faded from Brody's sight, like an unexplainable magic trick. He was left with a view of an empty sidewalk and light swirling snow lit in the beams of street lamps.
Brody turned to see Simon still staring in that direction. He put his hand on the other's shoulder and said with wonder, "Can you still see 'em, cuz?" Simon nodded quickly, and Brody gave him a quick shake to break the tension. "I believed you before, but now we have proof. C'mon, it's over; you're gonna strain your eyes if you keep glaring into the dark like that."
Simon blinked a few times and gave a slight shake of his head. "Yeah, hey, the girl with the doll eyes is right," he said slowly, "we should get back inside." Even though he made the suggestion, he stood in place and kept staring in the direction where the two fae strolled off.
With a smile of pride, Brody steered his cousin around, back in the direction of the restaurant entrance. Even with whatever Simon saw, he not only stood his ground and faced the danger, but was ready to remove a possible threat for his family. Simon showed a defiant bravery against the unknown and otherworldly, even if it was with a justifiably quick temper. "So," Brody asked as they began walking back, "that Ragnar dude looked pretty scary, huh?"
Simon dusted accumulated snow off his shoulder and replied off-handedly, "Hmm, let me think. I was shoulder-high to his belt, he was near as muscle-bound as you are, I think his skin was sorta light purple, and he had short horns growing out of his head like a fire-and-brimstone demon." He shrugged. "I guess he was a little creepy, yeah."
They both looked at each other with smirks and quick snorts. As Brody pulled one of the doors open to let Simon in first, he then asked him, "One other thing; 'bone orchard'?"