Watching William sprint away to god knows where to do god knows what, and Bal Das taking his leave to investigate the possible lead in the east end, Gavina found herself feeling alone for the first time in days. She hadn’t had this much company for this long in well over a year. It might technically only be two men, but William alone felt like traveling with an entire troop of drunken, chattering monkeys. His taking off was irritating but not unsurprising, and all in all probably for the best, but she did find herself a bit disappointed that Bal had chosen to follow his lead solo. She understood the wisdom behind splitting up and covering more ground, but she was finding his company more and more agreeable, and figured that he could only help, not hurt her efforts. Plus it would be nice to have someone to talk strategy with, and that was certainly not going to be William. His only advice would likely come in the form of suggesting they all just charge ahead straight into danger and consequences be damned. Better than hesitating endlessly, but still.

Gavina took her cue from the Bal and William and grabbed a taxi, directing it to Southwark so she could begin her search propper. She arrived in good time and hit the ground running. She spotted a nearby constable and approached him as politely as she could manage to make use of his knowledge of the area. Normally she did her best to avoid the authorities, as they tended to look unfavorably on her open carrying of weapons and the frequent stain of blood on her clothing, but in this case it was by far the best option. The less people she alerted to her objective the better off she would be.

“Afternoon officer. Ye wouldn’t mind helpin a girl out with some directions would ye? Ah’m in a hell of a hurry and figured you’d know th’way”. She gave a flick of her long braided hair in what she hopped was something resembling a flirty gesture, but what looked more like was swatting some irritating insect.

Fortunately, or unfortunately depending on individual perspective, like many men, the officer was far more focussed on the good than the bad when it came to a woman approaching him, and in Gavina’s case that meant an unseemly gaze at her chest before he remembered to make eye contact.

“Oi, yes of course mam. Know this area like the back of my hand I do. Where is it you might be needing to go?” He inquired with cheerful enthusiasm as he snapped to attention, overcompensating for his previous indiscretion.

“Ah’m lookin fer a couple a shops owned by some fella’s by the name a Kruger. You happen ta know where ah can find em?”

“Kruger, hmmm, yes, rings a bell. Let me think...ah, yes, the mad lens makers! Pair of looneys they are, ask anyone. Not a day goes by me or one of my mates on the force don’t get called over there to break up some sort of shouting match, or the odd street brawl. Fine pair of glasses they make though, me grandad swears by them.”

“Aye thats all well and good, now where the hell is the place?”

“Oh ho, shes of the snappy persuasion is she? A fine way to talk to someone trying to do their civic duty. Might be I have something more important to do than play navigator to a bratty little ned.” He shot back with wounded indignity.

“Why you bas-” She cut herself off before she could allow a waterfall of abuse to flow from her venomous mouth.

William and Bal never had so much trouble getting people to talk. Each had a wildly different, but typically effective way of dealing with people.

“Don’t go losin yerself and fucken this whole thing up over nothin ya stupid cow. Just bat yer lashes, stick out yer tits and say yer sorry so ye can get on the bloody way. Why can’t ye just talk to anyone like a normal person.” She chastised herself for the outburst.

“Ah mean, hold on a minute...please. Ah did nae mean teh be so rude. Ah’m just in a hurry teh find these men, seein as they're the only ones who can help me da. He’s been missin…” She paused, realizing she was about to let out much more of the truth than she could afford to let this stranger know about.

“His eyesight! Yes, missin his eyesight fer some time now, and ah finally saved up enough teh buy im a proper pair uh spectacles, so he can maybe see the face of his….grandchildren! For the first time.” She hoped the implication of children was enough to discourage any more leering or advances from the officer, as well as adding a layer of sympathy.

Honestly she felt like a piss poor actress drunkenly belting out lines in a bar room play, far from the sincerity or charm of her male counterparts.

“Well, that’s understandable then isn’t it. I’m sorry for the misunderstanding young miss. Can’t imagine what life would be like with such hardships, praise god. The shop’s you're looking for are just three blocks west of here. “Fritz’s Fine Lenses” or “Franz’s Finer Lenses” Bit of a petty naming scheme if you ask me. Surprised one hasn’t changed it to “Finest Lenses”, but give it time.”

“Ah can’t thank ye enough constable fer the help. The li’l ones will be so thrilled to have their granda whole again.”

“Just doing my job miss. Give my best regards to the whole family, and watch yourself with those two. Things can get nasty quick, been known to fight each other over customers they have. Best not mention either one to the other, just to be on the safe side. Cheerio!” He tipped his helmet and was off on his merry way.

Gavina breathed a sigh of relief that that little performance had actually paid off. She didn’t think that she would have been able to maintain a believable facade a minute more. Being something she wasn’t was just not in her nature. Especially when that involved coming across as weak or in need of others' aid. She could hardly stand getting help from Bal and William, but some random cop, seeing her as a lost little daisy? Pure agony. She was also furious with herself for almost blurting out the truth. Her predicament had been playing so hard on her mind, and she had been forced to explain the situation so many times in the past several days that it was almost a reflex at this point.

“Learn teh keep yer bloody mouth shut next time ye fuckin spastic” She chided herself over the slip up.

She took off at a run in the direction she was given, hoping to get as far away as fast as possible from the constable, more out of sheer cringing discomfort than any real need to make a speedy getaway, but she wanted anything to shake that slimy feeling off of her skin. She was glad for the exercise, as she had spent far more time on her ass since joining up with the aristocrats than she was used to. She and Donald walked more often than not, a horse being not only an expense they could rarely afford, but also being more of an unwanted piece of bait that attracts prey at the most inopportune moments than they were worth when you rarely had any kind of deadline to keep. She arrived on her designated street about five minutes later, and witnessed the ludicrous remnants, and evidence of a long standing feud.

To the left side of the street, nestled between a shoe maker and a watchmaker, was “Fritz’s Fine Lenses' '. It was a brown stone building, similar to any other store in the area. A simple brown door, a wooden sign dangling from above, a large window where one could gaze at the items on display. The difference from its neighbors was that the front door was pitted, scared and chipped with what appeared to be the markings of every weapon conceivable. There were bullet holes, axe grooves, rough gouges from what appeared to be a hammer blow. The window was chipped and cracked, and likely only still intact due to the wrought iron bars fitted over it protecting it from the dozens of bricks whose shattered remains lay strewn on the sidewalk below. The brick walls of the store were stained with various half erased insults and accusations. “Artisanal Assh-” “Blind cun-” “Lying coc-” Being the most prominent and recent looking of the attacks, lazily covered as though this was such a common occurrence the owner couldn’t be bothered to keep up with it at full efficiency. The sign hanging above the entrance was largely untouched, though it did sport a trio of kitchen knives stuck deep into the hardwood.

Across the street at “Franz’s Finer Lenses'', things were in no better order. The window there was boarded up entirely, a pile of freshly shattered glass coating the ground out front. The front door bore not simply scars and pockmarks, but the scorched black marks of some kind of fire. Franz was seemingly less inclined to allow libelous remarks to go unchecked, because all rude and crude remarks that must have covered his walls were painted over in a dark brown that poorly matched the surrounding stone. His sign hung limp and sad by a single chain, red paint splashed over it so as to make the words illegible.

“Well ah see that folks were exaggeratin when they said these fekers hated each other. It looks like a bloody war zone.” Gavina remarked as she took in the retail ruination.

She did a few double takes, trying to decide what shop to visit first, before deciding for no particular reason to start with Fritz.

Gavina took in the mutilated door once more before grabbing the brass handle and opening up to a poorly lit room that was bordered on three sides with three tiered tables, resembling small staircases to nowhere, lined with well worn velvet. Spaced roughly six inches apart lay an assortment of spectacles, bi-focals, monocles and more. There were tinted lenses, colored lenses, circles, rectangles, halfmoon and even triangular lenses. There were large unframed convex pieces of glass obviously not meant for simple eyewear, though what else they might go in Gavina hadn’t a clue. The walls were bare of any decoration save for a few worn looking eye charts, and more than a few cracks and gouges in the brick, like someone had gone wild with some manner of blunt instrument.

“Feckin place looks abandoned” She mused into the dull dusty air.

“Well I can assure you madame, it’s not”. Came a clear but accented reply from a burgundy colored curtain behind a counter along the back wall, the only one not lined with lenses of any sort.

“That Fritz back there?” She called out to the disembodied voice.

“It had bloody well better be, because if it’s that other bastard son of a sow, god bless and damn the mother that birthed him, I’ll strip his hide bare!” Was the somewhat frenzied retort.

It seemed that the mere suggestion of the twin’s existence was enough to set off an episode.

“Well then bring yerself out, ah’ve got questions fer ya.”

The individual who presumably owned the voice was not what Gavina had been expecting, not that she knew what exactly she should have expected. He was tall, several inches past six feet, placing him likely above that of even Bal Das. The dome of his head was shiny and bald, with a crown of dark brown hair circling around the rim, coming to a stop at the edges of the forehead. He was the proud owner of the bushiest eyebrows that Gavina had ever seen, looking more like a pair of resting ferret kits over his wide blue eyes. These were made all the wider by a set of gold spectacles with sparklingly clear and well rounded lenses that must have magnified his vision well enough to see the man on the moon. He was thin, the kind of thin that came from someone who slept little and ate less, gangly and emaciated, with a plain white shirt and black trousers hanging loosely off of his lank frame.

“Questions? I would prefer you had coin” Came a curt reply in a light German voice.

“Aye ah’ll bet ya would. But ah’m sure ya been makin plenty of that from a special customer ah’m here teh talk about.”

“I’m not sure what you are talking about, but if you aren’t going to place an order, then I don’t have time for your games.”

“All ah need to know is if ye’v had any strange orders the last few months, maybe goin back a couple years, ah’ve got no idea how long these ones have been doin whatever it is their up to. Strange folks, odd business hours, more specific requests than usual? Ah know ye have no reason teh help, but it’s important that ye do.”

This seemed to trigger the spindly artisan, but not in the way that Gavina had hoped.

“You mean that lying, treasonous, treacherous dog!!! The one who SHITS on my very soul by approaching that swindling, petulant, FOURTH RATE PILE OF AFTERBIRTH ACROSS THE STREET!!!!”? He shouted to the ceiling, working himself into a foaming frenzy at the alleged betrayal by this mystery customer.

Gavina was taken aback for a moment, but she had no time or interest in indulging this screaming child in his tantrum while she had a mission to carry out.

“AYE, THAT ONE!!! Ah have no FECKIN part in whatever SHITE is goin on between the two uh ye, and ah have no bloody interest. Scream at me like that again, and we’ll play a little game where I see how many pairs of these feckin spectacles ah can fit in that big mouth uh yours. Do we have an understandin?”

“I understand just fine, you are looking for someone whom I consider long dead. They sung my praises, and then turned coat without warning and sought out his services. For that, I shall not forgive. Threaten all you like, but I will speak no more of this man! Do what he did and take your business across the street. So long as you don’t mind having your very eyes sodomized by his hack craftsmanship he dares call “Finer” as though they weren’t cloudy, warped piles of crystalline shit!” His temper was flaring again, but he did manage to control his volume enough not to test the threat of being forced to ingest the fruits of his labors.

“That is all I will speak on the matter. Now get out of my shop before I signal for the watch, they are never far from this shop.” He turned his back on Gavina and retreated to the sanctity of his headquarters in the back, flapping the curtain as aggressively as one could as he did so.

“Hells fuckin bells can anythin ever be simple!” She exclaimed to a broken mannequin in the corner sporting a pair of tortoise shell glasses before storming out the front and slamming the butchered front door.

Beyond done with this whole ludicrous situation, and ready for some straight talk and a fast walk out of there, Gavina stormed across the street and flung the door to “Franz’s Finer Lenses” and marched right over to the counter. The place looked in no better or worse shape than Fritz’s. Lenses and glasses arranged all over the room, dust and broken furniture like nobody thought the place was worth keeping clean, or perhaps feeling it was pointless straightening up when things would just end up destroyed again. She eyed a brass bell on the counter and began to repeatedly slam it as though the ring of the bell was the key to ending all her weeks of worry and confusion.

“Gott en himmel who is making that racket!!!” Came a nearly identical sounding, and identically irritated voice to mr. Fritz.

As though experiencing an episode of deja vu, a tall thin man with scraggly hair entered the shop floor from a concealed back room, a hatchet raised in his left hand, ready for battle. A carbon copy of his counterpart across the street, this could only be Franz of the finer lenses.

“You!” Gavina exclaimed as she shoved an accusing finger in the man's face, granting him no chance to spill off into what she imagined was an impressive and irritating tirade.

“Who the feck has been orderin the special lenses. Don’t play feckin dumb with me because yer half mad crybaby of a brother all but confirmed he has been to both yer stores. Ah need the cunt’s name, and anythin else ye can tell me about him, and ah need it now!”

If Franz was intimidated or surprised by the request, or the aggressive attitude of his visitor, he did not show it. Instead, like his brother, his personal grudges seemed to override any and all sense of priority to anything else going on.

“You can take that finger and shove it up your arsch you demanding little bitch.” He said as he brandished the hatchet like a baton.

“I will tell you what I told the bastard you are looking for, my priest, my mother, and my two faced turn coat dachshund. You so much as speak to that arrogant, swindling spawn of spoiled seed, and you can burn in hell as far as I am concerned. He comes in here and pretends to be a polite, professional patron. I humor his lunatic schedule and inhuman specifications, and what do I get for my troubles? The knowledge that the horse fucker thought to seek out that walking miscarriage across the way BEFORE coming straight to the FINER lense shop for his needs. You and anyone else looking for him can go search the sewers with the rest of the shit.”

It might have been the piling stress. It might have been the sense of mounting urgency. It might have been the screaming, the ill manners, or the sheer contextless stupidity of the situation she had found herself sandwiched in. Whatever it was, Gavina felt something physically snap in her brain. She was no longer in control of her body, it simply acted of its own accord.

Her fist slammed hard into the squawking man's scrawny stomach, doubling him over as the air was driven from his lungs. He staggered and wretched the remains of what looked like a pint of beer and a foul smelling serving of sauerkraut, his weapon falling to the ground unceremoniously. Before he could properly catch his breath, Gavina was grabbing him by his scraggly remaining hair and dragging him outside. He howled in pain and grabbed at her wrist before he could get his feet underneath of him and begin fast walking to keep up with her angry stride and lessen the tugging on his scalp.

“What in god's name are you doing?! AH!!! Release me this instant! You can’t take me there like this, he’ll kill me!” Franz ranted in a frenzied, panicked voice, attempting to dig his heels in but only managing to cause a harsh tug on his hair that he rushed to correct by picking his pace up again.

“Better that he does, otherwise ah’m liable too. Ye had yer chance ta do thes peacefully, now we do et mah way”. She didn’t so much as look back as she yanked him the last few steps to the rival shops front door with a satisfying *YELP* from her prisoner.

With her free hand, she flung the door open with a thunderous *crash!* and threw Franz to the floor, where he rolled around grabbing at his aching follicles and whimpering in pain. Gavina began walking the perimeter of the room, pausing briefly to grab and smash whole lenses and spectacles, or to flip entire displays. Shattered glass soon littered the floor like a thousand twinkling stars as the light from the cracked window spilled over it, casting a cascade of tiny rainbows in what might have been a noteworthy and dazzling display to any not currently under siege by the angry scott.

“YOU SON OF A BITCH HOW DARE-!!!!” Fritz came barrelling out of his back room, a length of lead pipe grasped in his hands ready for combat.

He had been expecting to find his brother smashing up his business, and was taken off guard when he saw it was in fact the angry young woman from before. He looked at the destruction all around him, then down to the floor where he saw his loathsome twin curled up in pain and confusion amidst the crystalline carnage. This distraction however only served to give Gavina the opening she needed to lift a mannequin off of it’s supporting stand, and swing it like a cricket bat at Fritz's back, sending him sprawling to the floor, shards of glass embedding themselves in his flesh as he landed hard and began to roll. The pain from the initial thousand little cuts only served to cause him to reflexively roll around more, thus increasing his injuries in a vicious cycle of howling pain.

Gavina stood over her captives like a conquering barbarian chief gazing at her newest spoils of war. These squirming, pathetic grown men had information that could potentially help her find the most important person in her life, and yet they allow their petty squabbles and pride drive them to tell her off and leave her with nothing. They were consumed with hate beyond the point of reason, so there was no point in trying to reason with them.

*Oof* Franz sharply exhaled as Gavina’s heavy leather boot made contact with his stomach.

*Gah!* Was the sound that leaped from Fritz as he felt a heel dig into his knee.

“Ah’m gonnae start askin you two some questions.”

*Aw!* A punishing fist drove into Franz's kidney.

“And when ah do, you are gonnae answer them without any backsass.”

*Whoa!* Boot leather made contact with oh so sensitive tailbone.

“Is” *Kick*

“That” *Slap*

“Under-” *Bash*

“-Stood”

“Yes yes just fucking STOP” Came two similar voices in a miraculous moment of syncronization.

“GOOD! This all could have been FECKIN over in two bloody minutes if ye weren’t the most obnoxious, loud, ignorant bastards this side uh the river. And look what it’s done fer ye. Left ye on the floor broken and cryin like a couple a school girls.” She could hardly even accurately channel the contempt she was feeling into her voice at the levels she wanted to express.

“YOU!” She jabbed a finger at the wheezing and frightened form of Fritz.

“How long ago did the fella ah’m lookin for start comin by the store?”

There was a panicked look in the artisans eyes as he rapidly searched his memory for the information, terrified of receiving yet another beating.

“P-perhaps a year and a h-half ago. He w-would come around once a m-month for six or s-seven months before I banned him from my s-store for speaking with that cun-” But he quickly cut off his insult before it could fully leave his mouth as he saw Gavina raising a white knuckled fist, a scowl burning across her face.

Gavina lowered her arm when she saw that he had gathered his wits about him quick enough to let the curse die on his lips.

“You now” She nudged Franze with the tip of her toe, causing him to flinch violently in anticipation of further injury.

“Why the hell did he bother dealin with you two head cases instead of goin anywhere else in the damned city fer his glass?”

“He s-s-said he n-needed the best he could find. That he was w-working with incredibly soft light that n-needed to be focused as much as possible. I have no idea what he meant by that, but I tr-ied to accommodate his wishes. He seemed pleased, but needed many replacements as the slightest scratch or damage apparently damaged them beyond use” His voice was small, weak and fearful of further punishment.

“What the hell did he look like? Anythin specific ah might notice in a crowd?” She directed this at neither one specifically, thinking that they may have each noticed something different.

“He was always quite well covered, and he only came at night you see. I could tell very little besides he did have something of a limp.” Was Frit’s hurried response.

Franz replied with

“Yes! A limp, but I did see on one occasion that he had a scar on the left-NO RIGHT! The right side of his face” He was quick to correct this mistake lest it bring Gavina back to his home once again.

“Right down his eye”

“Ah don’t suppose he ever told ye where he lived, or where he was goin with his expensive glass eh?

“N-o no, never any d-details, only talk-talked about the orders. Very secretive.” Stammered Franz.

“Yes yes, always so quiet that one, please, that’s all I know” Said Fritz, tears threatening to spill from his face.

“Aye, ah figured as much. Ah hope ye know how easy thes all could have been if ye’d just cooperate instead uh pitchin a fit like starved tom cats. Why the hell do ye hate eachother so damn much anyway? Ah’ve seen cats and dogs get along better.”

Fritz spoke up first.

“This son of a bitch stole-”

“This lying whore-” Franz interrupted.

“No one bloody cares!” Gavina cut them off.

“Keep yer personal problems out of everyone else's lives. Everyone's got shit ta dealth with mate, keep et to yerself.” She stepped over the two bruised and beaten men, before pausing and turning to give each one a last, swift kick, causing them to yelp like beaten dogs and leap into eachothers arms.

“Ain't that lovely, look at me, bringin families together. Wish William was here ta see it, he doesn’t seem to think Ah have a soft side.”

Gavina breathed a sigh of relief as she stepped out onto the street from the oppressive negativity of the store. Glad to be leaving the feuding Fritz and Franz behind, she pondered on her next move.

“Bal Das’ll probbly be busy the rest uh the day checkin all those chemists. Ah hate teh do it, but ah’ve been putin it off long enough. Ah ought teh go see...him. God damn et all.” She cursed herself over the decision.

…………………….

In the oh so fashionable district of Mayfair, playground of the city's most wealthy and trendy, Gavina walked through the doors of “Gout du Peche”, the trendiest and most popular French restaurant in London. Eyes from all across the room turned to her and burned holes into her skull as though through sheer force of will they could erase this shabby looking peasant's existence from their sacred space. Gavina shot each baleful gaze down like a hunter picking off quail with a glare of ice to quench their burning hate. One by one they bowed their heads in defeat and turned back to their meal, choosing to ignore her presence if they couldn’t drive her out.

“Excuse me mademoiselle, but I am afraid I shall have to insist you leave immediately. There is a strict dress code, and we only serve guests by reservation, and I am afraid you do not pass either requirement. Please vacate or I am afraid I will have to have you escorted out.” The threat came from a diminutive little man in an immaculate tail coat, with hair blacker and shinier than an oil slick, and a sharp pencil mustache.

“Oh will ye now? Ah’d love teh see you try yeh greasy little shite. Ah’ll knock another few inches off ye, and it don’t look like that’s something ye can afford.”

“Yes yes, very charming. Am I to understand that you will not be leaving the premises voluntarily?” Gavina’s threats had no more effect on his haughty demeanor than a light breeze had on an oak tree.

“Only thing ah’ll be leavin is ma boot print on yer fuckin arse if yeh don’t get out of ma way and tell me where the owner is!” The stoic maitre d’s failure to react to her abuse was beginning to boil her blood.

“Why the feck can’t ANYONE just bloody listen the first time and cooperate? Do ah have te lay the feckin hammer down on the whole damned city just to get a few feckin answers?”

Despite what many might assume, Gavina did not enjoy resorting to violence to solve simple problems. It was difficult, painful, and drew far too much attention, but her tolerance for delays and arguments was far too short to negotiate every time she needed something important. This had eroded her patience to practically nothing over the course of her short life, and left people with the impression that she simply looked for excuses to fight.

“Let her in Armand, she means it. A true lioness this one. Gavina, my pet, however so delicious to see you wandering in my front door. And looking like…that. I love it, it’s so very you. How may I be of assistance? Are you hungry? You certainly don’t look starved. Wait, no. Perhaps you simply wished to meet an old friend, open a bottle of wine, light a few candles, and see where the afternoon takes us. Hmmm?” Anton Crowley spoke in the oiliest, most disgusting voice of false courtesy imaginable.

Everything about the man’s appearance and demeanor was designed to invoke an air of style, class, and superiority.

He was shorter than average, his eyes hardly rising above Gavina’s. He had sleek, black, sinisterly curling eyebrows that complimented the thin ebony blades of his well groomed mustache, two perfectly trimmed triangles separated by a gap in the middle, with a short triangular beard dangling just off of his chin. His hair was well oiled and brushed in two dark waves going opposite directions of the central part. He wore a paisley suit, black on black with a deep red undershirt and matching black vest. His tie was red silk, cascade style and his shoes shone like polished onyx. He looked like what a cartoonist in the papers would depict the devil in some oh so clever political satire. The worst part about him were his sparkling blue eyes, eyes that spoke of hunger, desire, lust, that could never be satisfied.

“There’s only one reason ah’d ever suffer bein on the same city block as you and ye damn well know it. Ah need teh speak to ya in private about somethin important. Now….Ah can pay'' She sounded more than dejected at the thought of giving this reptilian charlatan anything, but things being as they were, she had little say in the matter.

She knew what he would want, and it wasn’t anything she could just snatch out of Williams wallet.

“My my, I seem to recall you and your…charming father storming out of here quite dissatisfied by my offer the last time we spoke. What could possibly have turned that pig head of yours around I wonder?” His eyes were aglow with curiosity and delight at the thought of Gavina’s desperation.

“Take me upstairs away from all these staring, nosey CUNTS!” She shouted the word directly at the seated guests, who had indeed begun to eavesdrop on the conversation between the dirty outsider, and the famous “restaurateur”.

The crude display was enough to put Crowley in a defensive mood for fear of damaging his reputation by associating with someone so obviously low born, so he acquiesced to the demand.

“Fine, please do join me in my parlor. But please be sure not to touch anything. The maid’s don’t come in for another few hours, and I am not quite sure I could stomach the smell lingering on anything for so long. They have enough work as it is.”

“Aye, knowin you the poor girls already work plenty hard on their hands and knees just to earn the right to wipe up your mess.”

“Enough! Upstairs now, no more talking or I will have you thrown out and damn my…fee.” This may have been his home turf, but Gavina knew plenty of the right buttons to press to get the bastard moving along.

His public perception was just as valuable to him, if not more so, than any of his true talents.

She followed Crowley up the grand staircase that hugged the right wall of the dinning room and led up to an open balcony that looked down on most of the floor. In the middle of the balcony was a set of polished walnut doors, intricately carved from floor to ceiling in the most spectacular skill and detail. There were lovers embracing, angels looking down from above with gentle smiles on their sanguine faces. There were beasts of the field and forest, frollicking and foraging, while hunters with their hounds sought after prey. There were also more disturbing images. Demonic figures grinning and groping men and women coupling in odd positions. Monsters tore at flesh, and soldiers committed crimes of war against women and children. It was all woven together with no consistency or theme other than the stark contrasts of good and evil, sacred and profane. The handles were a pair of polished brass serpents, fat copper apples held in their mouths. Crowley opened one door and politely ushered Gavina into the darkness of the room beyond.

It was a stark contrast to the taste and refinement of the restaurant below. Every corner of the room was filled with oddities and horrors. Bookshelves with dusty tomes of lore and legend, scrolls pilled haphazardly on desks. Jars of preserved animals and human body parts sat next to malformed statues and examples of taxidermy. Star charts, tables of alchemical symbols and stone tablets of mysterious looking runes adorned the walls and glass cases around them. The crown jewel of the whole grotesque museum was the classic table with purple silk cloth and polished crystal ball in the center.

Horse shit. Every bit of it.

“How in god’s name do ye put on this feckin act. Yer like a dancin monkey fer these people. It’s bloody embarrassing.” Gavina couldn’t help but feel ridicule for someone willing to sell themself out to this degree for a bit of money and mystique.

“I provide a valuable service to the people of this city. If it makes them feel more comfortable, or makes the experience seem more authentic, then who am I to deny my clients the full authentic experience. Besides, who in their right mind is going to believe a fortune, or a spiritual encounter from someone simply smoking a pipe in an office. I wouldn't trust that man as far as I could throw him.”

“Must be an awful small amount then considerin the size of yer arms.”

“And there must be someone new keeping you fed and rested considering the size of your ass. Now are we going to trade this oh so witty banter all day, because you know I would love nothing more…or are you going to tell me what it is you need from someone you and your kind so rudely dismiss?”

“Me bloody da disappeared chasin after who he thenks killed me ma, and ah’m stuck waitin around fer someone teh figure out what all his notes we found mean. So…ah figured it was worth bein in the same room as you, no matter how short, teh see if there weren’t any...ah don’t know, signs, messages, whatever the hell you get, that could help.” The sincerity and insecurity in her voice bled out despite her desperate wish to keep it all inside.

It felt like the seams to her mind were becoming worn out and undone, and it was getting harder to keep it all bundled up anymore.

“My my, that is a tragedy. Donald was always a kind and generous friend. I can’t stand the idea of your dear father lost in the wilderness, shredded and bleeding out in some cave all alone, crying out for his beloved daughter.” His voice feigned sympathy, but his eyes expressed nothing but delight in the suffering and fear Gavina was feeling.

“I see now why you are so desperate for my help. Of course I would do anything to aid a damsel in need. Now, why don’t you just take a seat, and I will make the necessary arrangements. Time is of the essence.” He pulled out one of the gilded chairs surrounding the table and gave the purple velvet cushion a sarcastically welcoming pat.

Gavina reluctantly gave in and took a seat, glaring into the crystal ball and watching Anton prepare his ritual in it’s reflection.

“Just to clarify my dear, there is the issue of payment, you are indeed offering-”

“Exactly what you wanted last time ya shifty fiend.”

“Excellent, I was so looking forward to it last time we met, I just knew it would be a treat for the both of us, but your lovely guardian took such offense. How did you two get along without my help?” His voice suggested he was hoping for some tale of woe, one that ended in the two of them cursing their idiocy at denying him his prize, ideally while covered in blood.

“We managed just fine thank ye very much. Turns out it doesn’t matter why the corpse of your ancestor es stalkin round yer castle, killin servants left and right. If ye apply enough fire, the problem resolves itself all the same.”

“Hmmm bully for you. Well I am just about ready. I am actually more than capable of multitasking, so once I begin my part in all of this, we can tend to your payment simultaneously. I find efficiency to be a virtue.”

“Ha! Not often the word virtue get’s applied teh you ah’m sure.”

“Hmm no, I suppose not. Not the case with you though, I can smell yours a mile away. Not many knights brave or willing enough to put up with the hellish siege necessary to storm that castle I suppose. A pity and a waste.”

Gavina flushed red at the insult, but couldn’t exactly argue back either. Instead she held her tongue and simply focused on gripping the armrests of her seat until her fingers felt like they would splinter.

Crowley finished his business, setting a beautiful but simple ebony box on the table by her chair, and stood before her, a lit match and an elaborate silver pipe in the shape of a naked, screaming woman in his hands. Her private area was packed with a small wad of multicolored herbs and powders, her hands gripping her face in agony.

“It may take a minute or two for the trance to settle in, we can get to it while we wait for the effects. Being relaxed will actually help me concentrate and get you better results, so really you are only helping yourself.”

“Just stop talkin about it and get to it already!”

“Very well, very well. I didn’t think you were so eager ms. McKinnon. Been a while eh? I can tell with just a glance. Wound so tight, I don’t know how you don’t explode. Remedied soon I promise. Let’s begin.”

He touched the match to the little bundle between the tortured woman’s thighs, holding it in place until a thin, blue gray wisp of smoke began to snake and curl from the miniature bonfire. He then quenched the flame by placing it in his mouth and giving Gavina a sly look that told her this was something that usually impressed his ignorant clientele. She however was not so easily moved. He discarded the stick and turned his attention to the disturbing silver pipe. He placed his mouth over the wailing woman’s and closed his eyes as though sharing an intimate moment with a lover, drawing in the vapors like he was sucking out her very soul. After an agonizingly long draw, he finally lowered the pipe and exhaled towards the ceiling. The plume of smoke had undergone a disturbing transformation during its journey, exiting the mustached lips not in its original steely color, but now a deep, light swallowing black. The cloud lingered in the air , like it was a sentient being clinging to it’s fragile existence, whisps curling downward like strained claws grasping for any purchase. After several moments, it finally began to shred and dissipate, a faint noise that to Gavina sounded like a scream of pain whistled through the dark of the room, before dying away to a thundering silence.

“Now, before the miasma takes effect, my payment. Sit up straight, shoulders back, and I like eye contact, don’t forget that, or I might forget to share everything I hear and see.” He spoke like a man who knew he held all the cards, and Gavina hated him for it.

Crowley stood before her, looking down at her with a power and ease that Gavina never allowed anyone to have with her. It turned her stomach and she almost just threw a punch and ran out of there. But her pride was worth nothing in the face of possible insight. She would just have to wait and come back when this was all over.

Anton grew tired of gloating, and readied himself for the soothing delights of his prize. He licked his lips, reached down, placed his hands on either side of Gavina’s head, and began………to undo her long, thick braid. He worked swiftly, his fingers surprisingly nimble for a man who did very little work with them. In no time, Gavina’s hair was flowing down her back in a messy cascade.

“Ah catch yeh cuttin anythin off, ah’ll be doin some cuttin of my own. Keep that in mind ya bloody dope fiend.”

“Shhhh sh sh my dear, just let things flow. I would never lay a blade to such beautiful locks on such a delicate head. Just relax and let me enjoy this while the spirits spin their secrets. Besides, it allows me to relax and focus my mind on the sounds of the aether”. He spoke more through her than at her, his heavily lidded eyes fluttering dreamily back at hers like she was a hazy reflection in a pond instead of a woman sitting before him.

She tried to flash him a death glare, but his head simply tilted back in disturbing ecstasy as he savored the feel of her hair.

He soon grew tired of simply fondling her locks, and walked behind Gavinas seat, removing a long tortoise shell and silver comb from the lacquered box. He grabbed a small glass vial of amber liquid, which he poured and rubbed sparingly into the teeth, and began to run it through her emancipated strains of pale gold. It wasn’t smooth going immediately, with snags and tangles from days of neglect, but soon it was pulling soft and gentle from scalp to tip. The oil had an odd, but admittedly pleasant smell. It was like fresh citrus and spices, with a hint of something deep and…dark would be the only word to describe it. It called to mind the image of a beautiful flower, velvety and purple, whose beautiful petals distracted from a deadly secret. It was the smell of poison. All the while, Crowley simply mumbled in some language Gavina couldn’t begin to understand, if it was real at all, and hum gently to himself.

She kept quiet, hoping that not giving him the satisfaction of complaining would move things along quicker, and despite her reservations about Anton as a person, she knew from reputation, and from her father, that his gifts were the real deal. He was known as one of the finest spirit mediums and fortune tellers in Europe. He faked most of his talents with the common customer, drawing in those attracted to the occult merely to be seen participating in the latest trends, but he was known to provide the truly rich and powerful, and a select community of hunters with his true talents. The prices were always high, and his character was not spoken of in high regard, many seeing him as nothing but a snake who would manipulate people’s desires and hopes for his own gain. He also was accused by many of darker practices than simple soothe saying, but little evidence existed, and his friends and protections were too many and too powerful to get around.

Gavina felt a sudden tug at her roots, and cursed at the pain.

“Watch what the feck yer doin ya slimy bast-” But what would have typically been a torrent of abuse and threats was cut short.

The temperature in the room dropped in an instant, sending a tidal wave of goosebumps over Gavinas entire body. Her breath puffed out before her in little white clouds, and the every glass surface in the room fogged over, everything metallic gathered a sheen of frost. There was a humming in the air, not so much a sound, as a vibration that scrambled the body's sense of equilibrium and brought on a flood of nausea that was almost impossible to fight back. The sound of a hundred incomprehensible whispers filled the air, and Crowley’s muttering grew unnaturally deep and resonant, as though it was coming not from a man’s throat, but some impossibly deep abyss. Furniture shook, walls groaned as though under incredible force, a sense of panic and chaos permeated every inch and surface. Gavina’s deepest animal instincts screamed at her to flee, but when she tried, she found she was being held in place with a grip of iron by the still zoned out and muttering crowley.

Finally, as the unbearable, primal fear in the room reached critical mass, it came to a sudden violent stop just as quick as it began. Like a bubble bursting, everything was back to normal, except Crowley still stood gripping Gavina’s hair in his manicured fingers, eyes rolled back and a much softened voice muttering out foreign nonsense. This too began to fade, as his grip loosened, and his voice took on more of its original slime and less of its demonic timbre. In his haze, he uttered out what she had come to hear.

“Beware sheep in wolf's clothing, for they envy that which the Silver Beast can grant. The Hawk comes for those who destroyed the nest, but must trust the March Hare who seeks the prowling Cat. Keep the Tiger close by, and guard the Owl with the broken wing, for he has no talons. The Bull rests at the mercy of the moon, yet his thread may be severed, or saved. Walk not alone.”

The effects of the trance seemed to finally wear off as the last wisps of prophecy(?) Left his lips.

“What in all that’s unholy and foul just happened you feckin lunatic? Ya nearly brought the buildin down around us, and I thenk ma heart stopped beatin fer a while. Ah thought ye were just gonna smoke a bit uh hash and gimmee some bullshite about lettin my heart be the bloody guide!” Gavina slipped out of Anton’s now limp hands and spun around to berate the warlock, wanting him to answer for all the terror she had just been forced to endure.

“I….I’m not quite sure. That was….unusual. The spirits, they rarely take such notice of anyone. Someone, something, in the beyond, is very interested in you.” He stepped from behind the abandoned chair and sat himself down, looking as drained as she had ever seen a man. The very light in his eyes dulled to that just above the level of a corpse.

“As for the customers….I do not think they will have noticed. Such things…tend to be quite localized. This room might as well have been on the moon during our session. Oh to have experienced what you just felt through my own senses.” He shivered with visible delight at the idea.

“It must have been….delicious. Pure, raw, uncaged spiritual energy flowing around you like the currents of some great ocean. It is my…deepest regret in this profession that I must so often be the conduit, and seldom see, hear, feel, what my guests experience. Tell me, was it…awe inspiring?”

“It was feckin witchcraft and madness and on top of it all it did me a shite load a good. Nothin ye said made an ounce uh bloody sense!!! An afternoon, feckin wasted.” She pounded the painfully solid table with a white knuckled fist.

“My dear, it’s a prophecy. This is spiritualism, magic, the metaphysical realm we are dealing with, not some simpleton nonsense like science with clear questions and answers. Vagary and riddles are the language of the other side. We can’t even begin to fathom how they perceive what we consider time and reality to be. If it makes you angry, and it’s clear as mud, that’s how you know you’ve experienced the real deal. Only commoners and fools get cheerful spiritual postcards and well wishes from their dead relatives. Someone as deep into the community as yourself ought to know something so basic by now. Go home and think on it, and I am sure it will all make sense. Now…can we finish our session? I wasn’t near finished with you”. The look of hunger in his eyes, and his delight at the disgust she felt towards him sent her over the edge.

In three quick strides she was by his side and tossing him on the floor to deliver a swift boot to his delicate ribs.

“Thank” *Kick*

“Ye” *Kick*

“Fer” *Kick*

“The” *Kick*

“Help” *Kick*

Seeing him curled in a ball, clutching his torso and groaning in pain reminded Gavina of what she had been telling herself when she arrived. That she wasn’t a naturally violent person, that she just wanted to move along and get things done.

“Huh. Guess ah was lyin to maself.” She shrugged her shoulders and and left the room, slamming the gaudy door behind her with a *Crash!* that caught the attention of every dinner in the building.

“Keep yer bloody eyes to yerself or lose em!” She threatened as she quick-stepped down the stairs.

A few dozen heads suddenly shifted down and became very interested in their tablecloths, dinner plates, shoes, and anything else that kept them from looking at the angry young woman trudging through their midst.

Gavina saw the smug looking little penguin of a maitre d’ and was struck by a bolt of vengeful inspiration. She took a hard right from her original path and snatched a full wine glass from the nearest table. The look on Armand’s face changed immediately from one of cocky self satisfaction, to one of horror. But there was no time for him to do anything but let out a comical cry of-

“Sacre bleu!”

Before Gavina smashed the glass over his head in a spray of cabernet and crystal, red blood and red wine staining his meticulously cared for suit.

“Au revoir Armand, best get changed out of those clothes, yer not exactly dressed to standard now are ye? What might the customers thenk?”

The little man just stood there in shock and furry, grasping his head with one hand and dabbing frantically away with a handkerchief at the stains with the other.

“My god, I am a bit of a bitch today aren’t I?”

As Gavina exits the restaurant, pondering the finer points of etiquette and good manners, a figure lurks quietly behind her. Camouflaged perfectly into the high class crowd of the district, he memorized all that he had seen and heard transpire since she arrived at “Gout du Peche” Eager to observe how she handled herself, and to learn what she could discover from the distasteful mystique.

“Excellent work my little firebrand. She is going to absolutely adore you. You have come quite far, let us see if you are truly worthy of the honor we have in mind.”