The Battle of Evermore

"Oh war is the common cry, pick up your swords and fly.
The sky is filled with good and bad that mortals never know.
Oh, well, the night is long the beads of time pass slow,
Tired eyes on the sunrise, waiting for the eastern glow."
Led Zeppelin, The Battle of Evermore

Children, the word of the day is Ragnarok. The final doom of the Gods.
I've been reading a lot about it. Not intentionally. Incidentally. Co-incidentally, while I've been studying texts trying to learn Old Norse. I guess it's kind of a big deal. Ragnarok, not Old Norse.
Lots of people are named in the prophecies. Fated specifically to die. Heimdall is one, so... that kinda sucks.
I guess it's kind of a mindfuck for the people who aren't named, more than those who are. I mean, at least the people fated to die in Ragnarok can pretty much run into any fight they feel like, knowing that it won't be their last. Well, until it is. But the Fimbulvetr is supposed to be a big hint.
Obviously the prophecies just talk about the Norse. The Aesir, and the Vanir, and some of the giants and other names that I can remember more easily when I've slept.
Makes me wonder where I'd fit in.

You know what? No, it doesn't.
I don't wonder long at all. I know where I'll be: Right where I belong, right in the middle of the biggest, baddest battle in the history of all creation. The fight that is supposed to be both a beginning and an end. Right next to Gunnar, making sure he's got backup the next time he tells some giant serpent to eat him.
I can imagine my dad having a shit fit if I told him I intend to fight in Ragnarok. I don't intend to tell him. Though, if he hasn't already figured that one out, he might want to reconsider his career choice as a god of prophecy. I mean, he's my dad and a most righteous dude and I love him dearly, but I'm just sayin'.

Anyway. Next time I see Heimdall, there's something I want to tell him.
All of the Aesir are just supposed to know when Heimdall sounds the Gjallrhorn, calling the warriors to the fight. Will I hear it? I'm not Aesir, but what I am has got to count for something.
I'm marrying one of them. Eventually I'll probably carry his children, children of both the Aesir and the Dodekatheon. Well, until we become gods ourselves and figure out how to work this new pantheon stuff.
More than any of that, I'm a warrior, willing to fight and die in the battle to literally end all battles. The odds say I probably will die.

I say fuck the odds, and fuck anyone who thinks the whole of Ragnarok will be enough to stop me.

I've made up my mind. When the jaws of the Fenris wolf have been ripped apart, and the last of Surtr's fires have burnt themselves to cinders, we'll still be standing. I will see to that. We will be there when the end becomes the beginning again. And when the dust settles and the the sun rises again, we will clear away the rubble and rebuild the world.

Suburban Myth

Oh my gods, Hercules is in my house. Drinking all of my beer.
He just kinda gave up on fixing anything.
I want to be annoyed, I really do, considering the um... improvised installation of the new skylight in all three stories. But it's nice knowing there's a god here, with all of the kids.
Plus, he's just this big, lovable mountain of a guy. Gave me the hugest hug when I met him for the first time. It's hard to be upset at him, even if he just stopped in the middle of the work.

Why does my house need fixing? Well, for starters, see "skylight," above. I dunno if he just jumped off of Olympus, or what, but Hercules fell through my roof. My dad was nice enough to use the front door, at least. Though, by the time he got there Ixion had already torn it off of the hinges. His mecha-wolves broke most of the windows on the first floor and there's blood everywhere.
Gair almost died, Susan tells me. Wolf almost died. Gunter almost died. Alex Vance showed up on the porch, his mother and his brother and his bear are dead and Hercules is quitting Olympus.
I told him there was always room at the inn for him. So Hercules is staying at my house.
Hercules is staying at my house.
Hercules is staying at my house.
Nope, see, it's still weird even when you repeat it a bunch of times.

And some woman named Ciara has been sleeping in her car in my driveway, which normally would be odd but in this sort of homecoming just kinda warranted a shrug.
The kids said she was on their side, so she was alright in my book.
Then she said she was a Scion of The Morrigan. I guess she's here to make sure we deal with the Eye.

Fuck that noise, The Morrigan didn't ask. I'm going to take care of the people who've asked first, and Gunnar asked. The Eye can wait.

Something Better

"Crooked wheels keep turning
Children are you learning?
Acclimatize but don't you lose the plot
A history of blisters
Your brothers and your sisters
Somewhere in the pages you forgot...

And your sky is full of dreams
But you don't know how to fly
I don't have a simple answer
But I know that I could answer
With something better."
The Killers, This Is Your Life

Gunnar beat me to saying it, but it turns out we've been thinking the same damn thing since Ireland. I haven't gotten the chance to get all of the details yet. Planes aren't great for private conversations. And neither of us trusts Sly enough to even talk about a grocery list in front of him.
Anyway, he says nobody's got their heads on straight.

It's a hell of a lot nicer than what I've been thinking.

Maybe I'm just being a stupid kid, naive to the necessities of this long game, and fuck it, I'm ok with that. I'm just sure we could do better, and I've been sure of it for a while now. I know it won't be easy, or simple, but at least it would be honest. Being honest has never been simple, or easy, or even popular.
So it's probably a good thing Gunnar and I have never really been the types who worry about being popular above being honest.
It runs in the family.

Anyway, Gunnar's right. It's not that hard to tell the truth.

The Devil You Know

So, Sly knows where I live. He knows where everyone lives, or so he said.
I wish I'd been less furious when I heard that, because I kinda stopped listening.
Um, lemme start over.

After Gunnar finished talking to the dwarves, and Jack finished calming Ms. Esparza down, and I was still in the midst of staring murder into Sly's face, Gunnar made with the introductions.
Something like, "Mom, this is Laurel, my fiancee." She looked at me and her jaw dropped and I couldn't think of anything else to do so I just waved and grinned tentatively. Kinda like an idiot. I can't even remember if I told her I was glad to meet her. But she was excited, and seemed to be happy. Gods, I hope she started crying again because she was happy.
We told her we couldn't stay, that we had to get back to the kids in Berkeley, and Gunnar turned to me obviously concerned about bringing Sly along. Sly then piped up with, "I already know where you live."
So, like any rational person would, I unholstered Sibyl, held her up with my finger on the trigger, and cocked the hammer. I stopped just short of actually putting the barrel to his greasy forehead.
"Sylvester," I said with a dangerous smile and a lilt of a warning at the end of his name. "What else do you know?"
He says he knows where the whole Band lives. Something his father put him up to. Fabulous news. Which means he knows about Alli and the kids and Brendan's mom, both my houses. The only thing he didn't know what anything about Jack.
And as much as I'd love to take Sly to Mag Mel where I could throttle him without killing him, then throw him off a cliff into the abyss and just let him bleed forever, he might be useful. And if he already knows where I live, and he already knows I'm a Scion, I don't know what other secrets I have to keep from him.
Well, I can think of one. The one about my chat with Manannan Mac Lir. I don't know much about geasa, but I'm pretty sure that's not something I should go announcing.

Spare Parts

After the fight was over, and the Morrigan demanded that we reseal the eye... You know what, let's talk about that first.
Bitch could have just fucking asked. Nobody's been nice or respectful enough to ask me to do anything except Brigitte and Aziza. And what happened? Brigitte got handled in a pretty expedient manner, and not just because it was going to work in my favor or because I needed to get her body across the country before it started serious putrefaction. I did it because she asked.
Aziza is coming up on the list, after I deal with the other bastards who weren't nice enough to ask (like the crazy vroma who's sending me Guinnee).
I'm looking forward to not being one of "the kids" anymore. Fuck.

So, anyway.
Yeah. After the Morrigan cast a fucking spell on us and told us we had a year and a day to reseal the eye (and I'm so fucking tempted to let that timer run out to its end, just to piss her off, but I don't think the guys will go for it and I doubt she'd care anyways and it would just get us into deep shit when someone else absconded with the Eye), I hauled ass with Gunnar and Jack to Chicago.
Gunnar is keeping custody of the Eye for now, which was fun when we went through customs. Only not. It was kinda funny, though.
The airport guy had some problems with our haul from Ireland. Gunnar started with the story that it was something he won at an auction. Guy didn't buy it, and I wasn't really able to help at all. So Gunnar made some threats about breaking an arm, or two arms, or something like that and suddenly we were dealing with a much more amicable and pleasant individual. "I got this at the auction too," I smiled broadly as I presented the katana.

That katana, by the way, was actually pretty easy to get from Nate. All I had to do was ask. I tried to be honest, but vague. I told him I needed it to help Gunnar, but I almost told Nate, "I need to see a ghost about a hostage," which would have brought on a lot of questions I didn't have time to answer, especially since this was right when Nevermore came flapping up all pitiful looking from his recon excursion.
I figured Gunnar was eventually going to tell the group what was up anyway, and just left it up to him.

So. We get off the plane, we get to Gunnar's mom's place. His aunt wasn't around, which I admit was a long shot but it wasn't a bad idea. So there went that. We probably should have done some scouting but I was following Gunnar's lead and he just opened the front door when Victor didn't pick up.
And there was Gunnar's mom. Tied to a chair. And gagged. And underneath the chair were landmines, one under each leg. Gunnar moved to take off the gag, and then my "worst case scenario" vision kicked in. Words cannot express how much it would have sucked to watch my future mother-in-law explode the first time I met her. So I stopped him, told him to hang on just a sec. Just in case, I did that thing I do where people can get hit a few more times, but for his mom. Then he removed the gag.
I should have just let him proceed, because that wasn't his mom. It was Sylvester. Which, you know, I kinda expected he'd be here. Just not tied to an IED. I'd told Gunnar that Victor never struck me as the type who worked alone. Not because he liked people, or because he thought there was safety in numbers or some other sort of tactical advantage. My theory is that he used them as cannon fodder and meat shields. And mine-weights, apparently.
So... I knew that I had no way to disarm the mines, I was willing to step outside and tell Sly just to hop down and pray for the best. Yeah, it was a little cruel but he kinda asks for this sort of trouble.
Anyway, in this instance it was Gunnar who was the good cop. He told Jack and I to get out of the house while he worked on freeing Sly. I wasn't going to leave, at first, but Gunnar made a really good point that someone needed to put the two of them back together if something went wrong. And honestly, in a similar situation, I'd want Gunnar to listen to me if I told him to leave while I did something dangerous (not that I'm ever expecting he actually will listen in that situation, it's just what I'd want).

Jack actually did something really impressive (impressive that he did it, not that it was impressive in its difficulty). He handed his breastplate over to Gunnar while Gunnar worked on getting Sly out of the house. Gunnar, it turns out, can disarm landmines. I learn something new about him everyday.
I'm presuming everything went well and he knew exactly what he was doing. I know that may not be the case, but I wasn't there to witness otherwise so I'd rather not contemplate how close he came to blowing himself up. We poke our heads back in, Jack demands his armor back and Gunnar starts looking the place over.
It was a mess, but kidnappings usually are. Gunnar was able to tell that there was a struggle (which, I mean... Well, I'm not a P.I. but I could tell that much). He could tell it started in the kitchen, but couldn't really discern anything outside the house. So Never pipes up with his little British self: "Oi, lemme see wha' I can do, Viking."
It took Never all of a minute to figure out where Victor went. That bird is really useful, and Victor is really dumb.

He was across the street. Gunnar knocked and said he heard voices behind the door. I heard nothing over the loudness of Sly's stench. Seriously, he smelled so badly it was messing with my ears. Gunnar got the door open and Sly threw up.
Um, we found Victor. Minus his arms. He'd bled to death, which is an awful way for a Scion of Ares to have gone. At least it wasn't like he'd bled to death from a paper cut. His arms had been removed at the shoulder. And he was surrounded by twelve bodies. I didn't get a good look, but they all looked unkempt and very dead.
And we found dwarves, and more importantly we found Gunnar's mom. She was fine. Shaken, and I'm sure she was both hungry and thirsty after having been here a couple of days (three, judging from the condition of Victor's body). Physically she was intact. Mentally, she was a little hysterical. Gunnar was turning to me, probably to ask me if I could calm her down but Jack, of all people, beat me to it.
So I kept an eye on Sly while Jack calmed Ms. Esparza and Gunnar spoke in Norse with some dwarves. I've had a little more time to study the language but they spoke kinda quickly and I'm pretty sure what I thought I heard was wrong. Something about arms.
When I looked at Victor though, he had that same crazy carving in his chest, like those people who'd been liberated of their brains. When I had a chance to talk to Gunnar, and he told me what the dwarves had seen and said, I got the creeps and the chills and felt a little sick.
I'm pretty sure whoever um... literally disarmed Victor is the same person responsible for those missing brains. The dwarves said it was a guy. And this guy seems to be building something. Something out of the parts of other people.

"Spare parts
And broken hearts
Keep the world turnin' around."
Bruce Springsteen, Spare Parts

Sowing the Seeds of Utopia?

Back to the more immediately relevant topics.
You know... I guess I should probably write out how the battle actually went, so that in like... a hundred years, or a thousand, if I have to do that shit again I can remember what went wrong here. Besides maggots. Fucking maggots. We should have set fire to that thing in the beginning. It might not have helped.

So, yeah. That battle thing.
We were kinda smart about the way we did it. We split into two groups, one guarding the pass and one guarding the bridge that anchored Mag Mel to... I don't remember. Somewhere important. Um, which is exactly why we planned, as part of our brilliant strategy, to set the whole thing on fire.
Our plans for the pass were much more brilliant. I don't even know how he thought of it, and we were in too much of a hurry for me to really ask, but Gunnar had an idea to build a trap. A BIG, beautiful and sexy trap.
We rigged the whole pass as a death trap, pretty much. We designed landslides, which is actually exactly as badass as it sounds.
It took almost two whole fucking days (and was totally worth it). It might have taken less time if anyone else had helped, but they didn't. So it was just he and I hauling rocks around. I worried about the science part, the energy dispersion patterns and where the best placement for the event triggers. He worried about the actual trap part, where the rocks needed to land to do optimal damage and that kind of thing. It is now abundantly clear that we make a fantastic team.
I can't remember exactly what he said the numbers were, but when the enemy troops marched in and he and Jack set the thing off, hundreds fell. I'm imagining it now, and it is absolutely beautiful.
I wish I'd told Never to stick around and see what happened, since he was there helping Gunnar set his side off. That was a little weird, when I told him he'd be helping Gunnar, Nevermore almost acted like he was scared. I mean, not like he was afraid of the armies approaching. But like he was afraid of Gunnar. That's new.
I should be used to that bird acting weird now, I guess. Like the whole, "Oi I'm suddenly British" thing.
Anyway, that group held the pass with minimal difficulty. This was probably because that group had Jack. I swear, if we just armed him with lasers, he probably could have done the whole damn battle by himself. Though... now that I say that, I'm not sure if the big, vague "they" have managed to weaponize lasers yet. I probably could.
Hell, I probably will, once I finish learning Norse and making that ring for Gunnar.
You never know, lasers might save the world someday.

Anyway.
One of the problems with Jack is that he is singular. There is only one of him, which meant both of our bruiser types were in the pass. Yeah, I consider super-Gunnar a bruiser, even though he's a lot more well-rounded than Jack. They made mincemeat out of the Fomorian king.
Our tactics on the bridge were pretty simple. And by simple I mean, we didn't really have any besides, "well, let's set this on fire." I'm not even sure whose idea that was, but I think I heard Nevermore say it first. Which is a little terrifying.
So we set it on fire, made the enemy march through it to get to us and hoped they just stayed there and burned to death. We had some faerie archers who were supposed to help with that but... um, well they weren't fantastic at it. They did alright, but we still suffered some heavy casualties.
And I say, "we" because I was part of the infantry unit. Our purpose was to strategically hold the enemy on the bridge. And by strategically I mean the general just told the ranks to stay there and get pounded at while the archery units behind us fired and occasionally actually fucking hit something.
A few minutes after the fight proper started, the infantry unit had already lost half of its numbers. Either they ran away or fell over.
And then, because things weren't going well enough (or maybe because it looked like we might actually make a dent in this segment of the army), we finally figured out what the thing was that the Fomorians were dragging. I'd sent Nevermore out for recon, from which he came back injured (thanks Nate), and he said it wasn't a boulder but it was massive.
It was massive. It was Nemean. It used to be a Nemean Boar, and now it was a Nemean Maggot Bomb. I still feel like I have shit crawling on me.
Nobody kept their heads together when it hit the bridge. We all turned, suddenly feeling like we should be fighting with the Titans all along. Fuck that noise.
And then, the waves turned on us. A big watery tentacle rose from beneath and slapped us off of the bridge, before jettisoning the thing into that big blackness. Thanks, I think.
It took me a while, which was frustrating when I finally did, but I still shook it off before everyone else. I radioed super-Gunnar for help and started trying to snap the others out of it. Nate came to first, then Camila and then Brendan. Gunnar showed up right about then, and we both got to witness the biggest "What the motherfucking hell" moment. Manannan Mac Lir was climbing up out of the water. Camila nocked an arrow, took aim, and shot Mac Lir in the chest.
Nate didn't even arrest her. I'm a little ticked about that. I killed a Scion who was actively scheming against us, and I got arrested. She kills a God who probably just saved our asses, and... and he couldn't even process it. Plus, maybe that instinct came from his Stetson, which he left with Allison.
And now, with Mac Lir dead, Hachiman and the Morrigan are carving up the land while Hades is gutting the soil. At least, until the rightful steward shows up. I have a feeling, that just maybe, I know who that's going to be.
Maybe they have a plan? Maybe this is a set up for something better? Maybe I don't care. I don't like the games I've seen the gods play with one another, while we're left to clean up the mess and deal with the fallout of one of our Band potentially starting a cross-pantheon war. Shit.

"And you sit there and watch the world go around
From your pseudo-benevolent vantage point
While we who've been left to pick up after you
Try our best to make some sense for those who
Come next..."
Bad Religion, Sowing the Seeds of Utopia

Everything Louder than Everything Else

So, crazy bitch (the Morrigan) tasked us with resealing the Eye. We have a year and a day. Also, I started keeping a list.
I knew the Eye had to wait at least until after Chicago and Berkeley, and I'd asked Gunnar if we would put off the wedding for it. His answer, the answer I was hoping for, was, "Nope."
But I have to wonder if I'm being selfish. My life, lately, has consisted of a bombardment of important shit to do, each new thing seemingly taking priority over the other. Squeaky wheels, each louder than the last.

For example, my "to do" list as of this moment consists of, in no particular order:
Go be of whatever assistance I can to the kids. I realize that it might be too late, by now. My home might also no longer exist.
Bust Marie Glapion out of Guinnee. Also, get scuba gear.
Plan a (hopefully titan- and conflict-free) wedding.
Actually have aforementioned wedding. Hopefully sooner rather than later.
Do all I can to find time for a honeymoon, or a vacation, or just a span of a few uninterrupted days where I don't have to spend all day fighting the plague or on a plane or planning a funeral or fighting titanspawn.
Do the research to figure out how to reseal the Eye of Balor.
Reseal the Eye of Balor.
Solve those MENSA murders and punish those responsible.
Get back the black feather shroud?
Find Kane. Kill him, if possible.
Keep my promise to Aziza about finding out what happened to her and punishing those responsible.
Keep an eye out for Pan, because fuck that guy.
Check in on Luc.
Get my car back from New Orleans.
Make sure Gunnar's mom is going to be mentally ok, which will probably be an ongoing process.

Speaking of, Jack was surprised when he heard I was coming to Chicago, even after I knew that the kids were in trouble. My sister is in trouble. Just kinda proves how little he knows me. I promised Gunnar my help and I don't break my promises.
Still, this hardly seems like the appropriate time to even be pursuing a relationship, let alone planning a wedding. Like maybe that shouldn't even be on my list of priorities. But it's the brief flickers of normal life that have kept me motivated enough to deal with all of the other weird shit.
Like, the questions I asked myself in the days before the battle of Mag Mel were: Do I fight with the infantry or the archers? Do I act as a commander or a medic? Am I sure that's the dress I want? What did Nate do to piss Cordelia off? Are the kids enjoying their Spring Break? Can I help Manannan Mac Lir get his eyesight back? Sunflowers or peonies and does Gunnar care? How many Fomorians is this trap going to kill? Is Gunnar ok? How much longer do I have before Erzulie sends the next goon to fuck with my head? Will we have time for a honeymoon? Where would we even go? How many Fomorian troops are we up against? Am I going to survive this long enough to help Gunnar get his mom back safely? Am I going for anything more than moral support? On that last, yes. I'm going in case Victor's done something stupid and she needs expert medical care.
And so on.

But when we were heading back to Mag Mel from Dublin, I was feeling like the world was falling down around me and like we might be heading towards certain death (spoiler, only not really: we lived!) and just before we jumped off the cliff he stopped. He pulled out a ring and proposed all proper like, which really caught me off guard, and...
And I knew then what mattered. Maybe not what takes priority, but what makes all the other priorities significant at all. What makes prioritizing bearable. I understood, finally, the answer to a question I've been asking myself since January: "Why am I even fighting this war?"
And I hate war, for the record. It runs counter purpose to what has pretty much been my life's work. Also, I don't think I'm any good at it, the war thing. That one time I tried being a warrior didn't work out so well for me. I haven't talked about it much, not even really to Gunnar except for the bare details, to let him know it messed me up. I saw children killed and women raped and I have scars from the encounter, scars he's seen now. I don't even think I told him about the fire. But I feel like I can really talk about it now, all of what happened and the numbers and such. I mean, we've been through so much else since then.
I watched about two dozen people die that night. Nine children. Six women. Nine soldiers. I took eight shots in my left side from an automatic weapon. I fell face down, my own blood pooling underneath me and coagulating in my hair and on my face. I was spit on and kicked in the ribs, two of them broken on my right side. Then the house in which I thought I lay dying was set ablaze and like burning buildings do, it started to collapse. On me. I was pinned, stuck staring at the faces I couldn't help as the skin blistered and peeled and sloughed away, with the smell of my own blood and burning people filling my nose. Children and mothers and sisters and brothers and husbands and wives and lives that were nothing... anymore...
Besides over.

I hate war.

So... why can't I walk away from this one?
The thought did cross my mind, briefly, after I shot Marie. It was already too late then, I'd already started to fall and hard. But that's when I thought about it, walking away. I'm not a killer and I don't want to become one. Not the coldblooded kind Jack seems to think I am. And for the record, he's wrong about that. Marie was not helpless or disabled. What I did to her was no different than what Jack did to Caleb, I just did it with my eyes instead of my muscles.
And a similar thought crossed my mind again when I was in the hospital with Nate, not that I could walk away but that I was now so far beyond the point where that was an option.
But it wasn't clear until I was standing at the Cliffs of Moher. Gunnar held out that beautiful and perfect ring, which I have no idea when he had time to get, and he said the words, "Laurel Angela Kladakos, will you marry me?" and it clicked. I knew why I can never walk away from this war. In so many words, it's him.
I know he's in this thing, this vague and probably interminable war, until the end. Whatever that end is.
I don't want him to have to do it alone, is what it ultimately boils down to. He could, I'm pretty sure. He's strong and determined and capable and brilliant, moreso than he thinks.
But this shit can wear on a person. I've seen the fatigue in his eyes, after Vegas and after Tim's death; it's a spiritual fatigue which I understand now that it's happened to me. I've seen that list he carries and I've guessed at what he's worried about becoming. If I've guessed right, it's the same thing I worry about.
I hate war because it can make you crazy. I mean, I had a lot of options that night in Afghanistan. I could have bled to death, I could have asphyxiated from smoke inhalation. I could have burned to death. I could have been crushed by the collapsing building. I picked crazy, instead. I've been there, done that and got the tshirt, only without the tshirt part.
I'm pretty sure I can safely say that it's only going to get worse from here. But Gunnar's done a pretty fantastic job of keeping me sane, helping me put my head back together. I aim to do all I can to manage the same for him, when he needs it.
And to that end, I'm okay with being selfish. That's why I'm in this war, and that's why I can't walk away.

"I ain't in it for the power
And I ain't in it for my health
I ain't in it for the glory of anything at all
And I sure ain't in it for the wealth
But I'm in it 'til it's over and I just can't stop..."
Meat Loaf, Everything Louder than Everything Else

Nervous in the Alley

"And when all is said and through
Would I know just what to do?
If I put myself to the test
Would I ever raise a fist?
Would I just shut my mouth?
Would I just block it out?
I've sworn it a million times
Never to be left again with feeling
Of hopelessness, left standing
Just nervous in the alley."
Less Than Jake, Nervous in the Alley

I watched today. It feels like watching is all I did. All I knew how to do.
I watched as the ranks of my infantry unit broke, and scattered, and bled, and fled.
I watched as a Nemean corpse exploded into a maggot spray. The death larvae wriggled into my ear, poisoned my mind and I did nothing but watch. I'm not ashamed to mention I freaked the hell out when I came to my senses and yes I quailed like a little girl.
I watched from gods know where in the back of my mind as the army usurped my body and started marching me towards the Strand.
I watched as the bridge we were supposed to be defending was lost in the ether.
I watched as Camila slew Manannan Mac Lir.

I'm still not sure if we can call today a victory. We held Mag Mell, but at what cost? Now Hachiman, the Morrigan and Hades are divvying up the land. Deals with devils, as far as I'm concerned. Sorry, Nate. Only not really.
Deals I never intend to make.
Today I watched two gods of death shake hands over the body of a fallen god.
I did nothing, because I could do nothing.
Nothing to do but clench my fists, gnash my teeth and swear to myself I'll be better than that.
I've told Gunnar before, a few times, that I hate the games I've seen the gods play. I refuse to play those games with him. He means too much to me for me to treat him like a domino or a plaything.
Today I decided that's no longer reserved just for him. What I witnessed absolutely sickened me.
I despise these fucking ploys, and the people who participate in these damnable schemes.

It's a lot to process, what happened today. We killed Caleb. We lost Manannan Mac Lir, who probably knew he was dying based on the fact that a god of Psychopomp asked me to deliver a letter. We practically handed Mag Mel over to the Morrigan and Hades, even if only temporarily. I feel like maybe there's a disconnect in my head, like maybe this is the part where I should be coming apart at the seams. This feels like the part where I should fall down screaming at the sky.
But I'm not, and I won't.
I'm angry - furious, even - about Gunnar's mom and disgusted by the gods and dismayed by Camila and worried about the kids and a little tired from getting my ass pretty much handed to me at the bridge. But, for whatever reason (and I've got a few theories, most of which credit Gunnar significantly for my increasing mental fortitude and ability in general to chill the fuck out and not be such a head case) I at least don't feel like I'm about to break down. Not this time. I'm sad and nervous and jittery and worried and a thousand other things, but I'm okay.
Mostly though, I'm hopeful. There's got to be some great design for all this bullshit, right? Fate has to have some purpose in seeing Manannan Mac Lir fall, in putting the kids in my care, in putting me and Gunnar together. What we set up in the pass makes me think he and I can accomplish some pretty incredible things.
That's another thing, Gunnar and I. Something else I need to think about.

Blind Leading the Blind

"When the chips are down and you're blinded on your feet,
You're standing up and walking but you know you are dead meat.
The sky is busting, it's near the break of day,
You're running out options running out of place.
The leaves are cracking, withered on the trees,
Beg you darling won’t you say a prayer for me"
Mick Jagger, Blind Leading the Blind

The reaction to that statement, or any statement involving the Eye of Balor has been pretty standard, falling into one of three categories.
"The what now?"
"That's just a myth."
"Why the fuck did you pick that up?"

Derrick's reaction, as I remember it, was a wise mixture of the latter two, followed by a statement that he had to see it to believe it.
We were happy to oblige, mostly in the hopes that it would get us a step closer to getting the damn thing off our hands. So much for that plan.
Oh, I completely forgot to even mention how the hell we even decided to go to the cliffs. So we have Caleb's journal, which Gunnar stole from Caleb's pockets while Nate was playing what was quite possibly the most important and most beautiful game of keep-away ever. In Caleb's journal, which is bound in human skin (ew), there was a map. It was a map of normal Ireland, with a bit of it circled in red. That was how Gunnar googled us a map over here, to the Cliffs of Moher.
We found out from Derrick that this is how one gets to Mag Mell. By jumping off the cliff. Yes, that cliff he'd just finished yelling about being so dangerous that we shouldn't be there at night, he told us to jump off of it. Then Gunnar did just that, carrying the Eye. No provocation needed. I can't remember if his feet had even left the ground before I started yelling, "Gods dammit Gunnar!" Not that it was ever meant to, but for the record, that has never phased him. No matter how loud or how often those words leave my mouth. I don't think I'd really have it any other way.

Derrick called him a crazy motherfucker, and everyone in the Band just nodded. Including Nevermore. "Yeah, he does that," I sighed, pinching the bridge of my nose.
We thanked Derrick (for not shooting me) and took our own leaps of faith. Rushing towards the dark waters, I kinda get it.

We leapt from a sunset and landed in daylight. There was greenery. Lush greenery, everywhere. Fruit as big as dinnerplates hanging from trees verdant and vibrant. And there was a unicorn. My immediate reaction was: Hell. Yes.
I've been asking for a vision of unicorns for weeks now. And this...
I mean, it wasn't a vision of a unicorn, it was better. It was an actual unicorn.
With some redheaded chick on it, surrounded by warrior dudes who'd had Gunnar at spearpoint. Aaaaand I'm officially over unicorns.

We made with the introductions and the spear chick, whose name was Cordelia, agreed to take us to the city proper where one of us would talk to Manannan Mac Lir. I recognized this place, too. I'd been here when Mac Lir whisked me away to... I'm still not really sure how to label what happened. I mean, he said thanks in that letter I got later but there was still a bit of "how dare you" and "you'd better fucking be serious" and I don't really think there's a word for that. I'll go with... gratithreat? No, periltude. That's a word now.

Anyway, yeah. Cordelia said only one of us got to go talk to Mac Lir, and asked who the leader was. Most of the Band got the look on their face like, "Not it," and Jack at first said "Laurel," then he said "Wait, no, she shoots people" (and OH THE FUCKING IRONY).
We finally settled on Nate. Nobody's died yet, so... so far so good. Well, none of the Band.
I'm not sure how the meetings went, but Nate walked into the palace (I guess that's what you call it, it was a very beautiful place) with the eye and came back without it. So, success? (Spoiler: not really). Manannan Mac Lir was blind now, by the way. That was a good sign. Only not.

We gave the warning of the impending siege. Gunnar and I went back to Dublin since we were both running on empty. Well, I think everyone was running on empty, but we were the only ones who wanted to go back and do anything about it. As soon as we set foot back in Ireland proper, Gunnar's phone rang.

Victor has Gunnar's mother.
Victor is probably going to die.

The Policy of Truth

"Now you're standing there tongue tied
You'd better learn your lesson well
Hide what you have to hide
And tell what you have to tell."
Depeche Mode, The Policy of Truth

I should know better than to open something long sealed that's been told to contain power and evil. I know that story, and it didn't end well for Pandora.
My common sense told me not to open that box, and at the same time my paranoia told me that if we found it someone smarter definitely could too. My common sense tells me a lot of things I blatantly ignore.

Anyway, we got the eye. We didn't want the eye, really, but after Gunnar accidentally switched it on... Yeah. I don't really see how we had a choice but to take it with us.
He told the others to ride in the other car, that he was going to take one vehicle and the eye, in case something went... awry. I don't know if he really needed to tell the others, they all seemed more than willing to be as far away from it as possible. Common sense told me I should do the same. I told my common sense to just shut the hell up, then I told Gunnar I was coming with him. He respected my wishes, which was good because he'd have needed to physically put me in the other car to keep me from going with him. If the eye started doing anything weird, I wanted to be there. No, I didn't really have a plan but Gunnar's stuck with me when I've gotten myself into trouble, and that's worked out pretty well for us so far.
Plus, I really should have thought to say, "Hey, hon, before you hop down into that dark nothingness with an artifact of ultimate destruction, why don't you hand me the remote control so you can't... you know, accidentally turn it on or something."

We pulled up to the cliffs just as the sun was setting. It was a breathtaking sight, really. This whole country is just gorgeous.
Everybody piled out of the other vehicle, while Gunnar and I stayed in the second. A group of guys came striding up, harping something fierce about closing time.
Brendan pulled his badge out and the guy he was talking to looked really unimpressed. The guys around him started getting antsy, and it looked like there was going to be a fight out by the cliff and frankly, I was tired of fighting for the day.
I hopped out of the car, sauntered up to the crowd and asked, sweet as I could, "What's the problem, boys?" I thought about trying to be sneaky, but it turns out as it usually does that honesty was the best policy. He, whom I might have thought was quite handsome if he weren't in my way, asked what business we had up on the cliff so close to darkness. Something about it being dangerous. I wanted very badly to laugh at this man's skewed understanding of "dangerous."
I had to think a minute. I used to plan conversations like this, but I guess being around Gunnar so much, I've gotten a lot more used to leaping first. "Look," I finally sighed, rubbing my eyes a little. "I've had a really long day, and I just wanted to see something beautiful." Not a total lie. Not really even half of a lie. From landing, to the drive, to the panicked evacuation of the civilians, to the fight with Caleb, I was feeling like I was standing on my last leg. I hadn't slept in about a dozen days and I've known since the plane landed that I needed to sleep soon, but there just hadn't been time. "Besides, what kind of harm could a little thing like me do to a big cliff like this?" I tried really hard to look innocent and harmless. Holy shit, it actually worked.
The guy agreed to take me, just me, over to the cliff. I made sure to let him lead. He wanted to know what was so important that it couldn't wait until morning. "We're kind of running up against a deadline here," I told him, exasperated. Of course, that wasn't good enough. I said something about giants, and then something about Fomorians, asking something like whether or not he'd heard of them. He looked at me kinda like I was an idiot. Every Irish kid knew of the Fomorians, they were the boogeymen here, he said. I mentioned that the dust of one was hanging out in the dry bed of the Loch na Suil, but he didn't know to be impressed because he had no idea who Caleb was.
Then Derrick, as he later introduced himself, pulled a gun on me. He wanted to know how I was mixed up with the Fomorians. He warned me that there was a wrong answer. Well, duh. Again, common sense told me that there was an appropriate and reasonable reaction, and that the one I chose probably was not it.
I held my arms wide and kept my hands low, pretty much inviting him to try to put a bullet in me. I was, to put it mildly, too tired for this shit. My lungs hurt pretty badly and as far as I knew, time was running out to get to Mag Mell.
"I'm here," I gritted my teeth, speaking with my arms still spread wide, "to ruin every plan the Fomorians have. From the socks they don in the morning to the dinner they plan at night to their machinations for world domination. If they want it, they can't fucking have it."
I guess that was the right answer, because Derrick put his gun away. And he guessed I was a Scion, which means he's not a total idiot. "I'm going to ask you a personal question, feel free to tell me it's none of my fucking business," I grinned. "Who's your parent?"
He's a son of Lugh, which doesn't mean a lot to me. I hope to the gods that means he's one of the good guys. I let him know I was Apollo's kid, and he asked what a group of Americans were doing out here in the Emerald Isle.
"My fiance's sitting in the car with the Eye of Balor," I said bluntly.

Another One Bites the Dust

So we got in the cars, hashed together a plan, Nate became a compass again, and Gunnar google-mapped us a path to this lake place. We got there ahead of Caleb, with enough time to evac the area. There were civilians in a small abode, whom Brendan convinced to GTFO. Camila and I talked to the folks surveying the lake, who weren't happy about leaving their shit behind but I was too busy saving their existence to really care whether they were happy.
If they'd known what was coming they'd have thanked me. But they didn't know, so instead they were a lot less than grateful and that's ok because they were all still fucking breathing. They had to leave some equipment behind because it was either that or stay another two hours and pack it up. I told them to leave it, they could come get it later. I was even nice enough to tell them that it might be destroyed when they came back, depending on how mean things got with Caleb. That didn't sit well, and the guy I'd been talking to wanted some contact info for me. I gave him my full name, my cell number, my home number, my email address. The foundation for a good identity theft, now that I think about it. At least I didn't give him my social and my date of birth.
Probably not the best decision I've made, but definitely not the worst.
After we got the site cleared we got settled in some spots Gunnar had scouted out for cover. He, Camila and I were on the west side of the lake. Nevermore was with Jack, Vader and Brendan on the north end and I think Nate was on the east side. We all got off some surprise shots at Caleb when he finally showed up, but ze bullets... zey did nothing. Just bounced off of his skin in a disappointingly anticlimactic way. I remember thinking, "Well, that bodes well for us."
Then I tried what Huginn said, but I guess I'm not very good at ignoring that "do no harm" promise I made. It didn't even make him blink.
But Nate was fucking brilliant and disarmed the guy. Repeatedly. Which was nothing short of incredible, and beautiful and heavenly. Also beautiful was the biblical type of hurt Jack kept putting on the bastard.
The rest of us tried to do the same, I even switched weapons and borrowed Gunnar's axe. My plan was to hack a hole in his back and it was a great plan but the execution of said plan kinda sucked.
Oh and Jack broke Caleb's wrists while holding the bastard down. Someone got the bright idea to trade off pinning him, once we were able to get him held down. Gunnar rifled through his pockets, stealing the "key" and a book, which was simultaneously hilarious and awesome.
It was a combination of pinning Caleb and just waiting for him to get frustrated and wear himself out that gave us the edge. He start acting like I'd felt after those nightmares, when I couldn't really help how I reacted, and I figured that was a good time to try one last trick.
"Someone get this on video," I laughed. "Caleb," I called his name and smiled wide as his eyes settled on me.
Fuck. Yes.

We won. Ding dong, motherfucking Caleb is dead, and the kind of dead from which one does not return. His body is dust, his plans are in ruins and I am one happy woman.

The Ballad of Valentine

"Shut your mouth and wave goodbye
Tonight, I ain't gonna let you rain on this parade."
The Killers, The Ballad of Michael Valentine

So, we got our stuff from baggage, I hung back and left my dad a quick message saying we needed to talk, I had just hung up with Susan and then we were dealing with vehicles when a big black bird that was not my big black bird showed up.
Nevermore later informed me, and Nate's hair, and Nate, and a lamppost, and everything that couldn't run away that this bird was Muninn and that Muninn was awesome. Huginn, the salt to Muninn's pepper, showed up promptly as well.
They addressed Gunnar, and I realized I need to work on my pronunciation if I'm ever going to get this Norse stuff right, but I can't really ask Gunnar for any help without ruining the surprise. It's kinda hard to learn a new language when I'm trying to do so without really drawing the attention of the one person who would be the most helpful.
Stealth linguistics. I could probably pioneer a new field.
Anyway. They eventually switched to English. I guess Gunnar had said to his father that he needed to tell him something, but Asgard's under attack and Heimdall couldn't talk so he sent the birds instead. The good news is it's not Ragnarok. The bad news is that makes another overworld under siege.
But um, I guess that wasn't why Gunnar asked to talk to his dad. He made the announcement nonchalantly and moved on to another subject kinda quickly, so I'm not completely surprised that Never kinda missed the news at first. Plus he was busy trying to start a feathered bromance with Huginn. He was so seriously starstruck that he didn't even blink when they called him a fledgling.

Huginn and Muninn were rather gracious, congratulating us before flying off. They seemed convinced Heimdall would be pleased with the news.
When it sank in though, my own raven wasn't quite in such a celebratory mood.
"Laurel!" Nevermore had warbled as he perched on my shoulder, probably so he could more effectively yell in my ear. Crap. He almost never actually called me by my name. "Laurel... Angela... Kladakos," double crap. "What... the HELL??" Ok, he was yelling in Greek at least. I wasn't immediately sure whether that was a good thing, but I took his lead.
"Just get it off your chest so I can go back to ignoring the fact that you talk, Never. I-"
"Yeah, ok, just shut up and listen, kid." He sighed the best a bird can manage. "You need to hit the pause button on those plans right fucking now and you need to have a sitdown with the boss." I rolled my eyes. "I'm serious. You need to talk to your father, Laurel."
"Nevermore, I respect and love my father but I'm a soldier in his war, not Daddy's little princess. I feel no need to ask his permission, if that's what you mean. But," I added, trying to be at least a little conciliatory, "I did drop him a line before we grabbed you that I thought he and I should talk."
"Kid, I'm not telling you to ask permission, I'm telling you to ask advice. I don't think you've really thought about this. And if I don't get you to think about this, your father is going to pluck me, then tar me, then refeather me so he can start all over like some torture loop." He shifted from foot to foot on my shoulder, digging in with his talons a little. Probably on purpose. Jerk. "Shit, Laurel. I like the viking, I really do. So don't think it's about me not liking him. I'd even drink with the guy, y'know, except that it'd probably kill my liver, which would then come back as a ghost and kill me for revenge. And he's a great guy, gets major points in my book for listening to you scream and cry and whine all those nights. Better his eardrums than mine," he made a face. "And he likes you, that much is obvious from the way he went after Caleb like he did. Or he's fucking crazy. Either way he's fuckin' perfect for you," he cocked his head and cackled a little before getting serious.
"But," I prompted, grinning a little myself. Gunnar probably is just a little crazy.
"Dating him is one thing, Laurel. Hell, dating anyone is one thing. But he's Aesir," he pointed a wing in Gunnar's direction, and pointed the other wing at me. "And you're not. He's got an engraved invitation to this big apocalypse party, wherein everyone involved could save themselves a lot of fucking time and effort by just drinking the Kool-Aid beforehand."
"Ragnarok is not a suicide party," I countered.
"I'm Brad Pitt," he responded in a deadpan manner. "Oh, we're not playing the 'blurt out statements which are ridiculously untrue' game?"
I piqued an eyebrow and waited for him to say more. He always seems to have more to say, but this time he was silent. "So, is that it? Your only objection is Ragnarok? I mean, I'm not trying to say that Ragnarok isn't a big deal. It just isn't a big enough deal to stop me from marrying him."
"No, I've got plenty of others but this is the first. Laurel," his voice softened a smidgen. "Everyone," he started, then whispered it again for emphasis, "everyone who fights in Ragnarok is supposed to die."
"Not everyone," I shook my head stubbornly. "There's a whole list of survivors."
"Uh," Nevermore peered at me, "is his name on the list?"
"No, but it's not like it's on the impending obituaries page either, Nevermore. He might die in Ragnarok, exactly like we all might die facing Caleb. I'm not worrying about that shit, I'm leaving it up to the Fates." I figured it was smart not to mention the fact that when and where Gunnar went to fight, I planned on being next to him. Just in case the Fates needed a hand in ensuring his survival. Cuz knowing him, he'll probably jump on top of Jormungandr just before it explodes.
"Dude, fighting Caleb is one thing, something I think you kids can handle if you plan it right and nobody acts like an idiot," he glanced in Brendan's direction. "But Ragnarok is supposed to be like a legion of Calebs who've all set themselves on fire and brought steroid-crazed half-shark quarterbacks as their wingmen. I don't know why you're setting yourself up for such heart-"
"Anyways," I cut him off. I knew where that sentence was going and I don't need to be reminded that I don't handle it gracefully when people die on me. "Tell me your other objections so I can get on with ignoring those too."
His feathers ruffled but he nodded in assent. "Alright. Time, kiddo. Even if you weren't signing your own death certificate," I guess he'd already figured out my plan, "You've known this kid like, two blinks."
"Three months and we are both older than you; stop calling us kids."
"Beg pardon, my venerable liege," he placed his wings on his chest, splaying his feathers ceremoniously and bowing his head down low. "You've known him for three blinks." He kept his head bowed and blinked thrice to illustrate before straightening up.
"Hey, you didn't object in Vegas," I pointed out quietly, referring to the Band's cover for the Canopus incident.
"Cos' I didn't bloody know you were stupid enough to do it!!!" He had suddenly switched, maybe on accident, to English. Very British English. "Pardon my error, for I did not realize that I had been tasked with the supervision of such a sodding imbecile. Never, in my wildest dreams, did I envision it might be necessary for me to actually speak the words, 'Laurel, love, do not marry that...'" At this point he realized he was speaking English and eyed Gunnar nervously. "'That very nice, very intimidating looking, very, uh... loyal..." he gulped and proceeded slowly. "Very strong mexican viking chap..." And he picked up speed again. "Whom you just met in a diner in Vegas wif' a transvestite a handful of nights ago, for this is not the behavior of a sane person.'"
He spread his wings in frustration, continuing in English. "Your father is going to kill me. I will apologize in advance for my absence. I will miss the ceremony because I will be dead. He is going to stuff me down the gullet of some mythical beast. 'Protect my daughter, bird. That's all you gotta do,' he said. 'Keep her outta trouble,' he said. 'It'll be easy,' he said. 'She is strong and level-headed.' Your father is misinformed. For what do you do? You dive, head-fucking-first, right into trouble!"
"Nevermore," I said and he snapped his gaze back to me. "Let me worry about Dad. Just... be happy for me," I pleaded, grinning broadly. "And if you can't, then just shut up, cuz you're a huge buzzkill." He chose the latter, which worked for me.
Maybe Nevermore'll be happier if I can talk Gunnar into letting Never be the ring-bearer bird. That wouldn't be too weird, right?

Plans

"And it came to me then
That every plan
Is a tiny prayer
To Father Time..."
Death Cab for Cutie, What Sarah Said

It was a wonderfully uneventful flight, something almost like it was out of a normal life. Gunnar slept, I read my book, and we spent a little bit of time talking about the wedding. Amazingly, he agreed to make an exception to his 'I don't dance' rule.
Oh yeah, Gunnar said he was sure. About us. Or, about me. Marrying me. Maybe "us" was right. Holy shit, he makes me ramble in text, too. How does he fucking do that?
Lemme try that sentence again, this time with coherency.
Gunnar is sure about getting married, which he declared simply and succinctly (I'm not really sure he's practiced in any other method) after our episode in the quicksand: "I'm sure."
I'm a little surprised. Pleasantly, of course. I thought it was going to take more than a couple of days for him to decide, or realize, or whatever happened, that he was certain. He's been pretty consistent about wanting to "do things right," which I figured meant I'd have to rein in my "carpe diem" attitude and settle into being patient. Which I'm still prepared to do, if it takes us a while to get to the altar. I mean, he said he doesn't wanna be the guy who lets the world end just because he's on his honeymoon. I said I wasn't even counting on the world being peril-less long enough to really have a honeymoon. I'm hoping, of course, for something awesome and relaxing and uninterrupted by battles with titanspawn and steel serpents, but I try to stay in the habit of being realistic.
In the vein of being realistic, I'm grimly conscious of the fact that we might not even make it to the altar. If that's what it takes to stop Caleb...
Well, I'm not focusing on that. I'm going to carry on making plans like I'm going to live forever, because fuck twiddling my thumbs while I'm waiting around to die. Also, I plan to live for a good chunk of forever.

Susan doesn't quite see it the same way. She called when the plane touched down, asking how the flight was. I guess Gunter's dog isn't much into hygiene (no dog I've ever had was). Their spring break is coming up next week, and Amanda's going to visit. I wish I could be around for stuff like that, taking them to the beach or the park. Oh well.
I warned her, too, that we might end up in another Terra Incognita on this trip. I don't want them to think we've just disappeared, I want her to know where we've gone and that we're coming back. I asked when the kids get out of school, and if how they'd feel about spending some time in Chicago when me and the guys and Camila are done here in Ireland.
She's sharp, she already understands what being a Scion means. Her response was that they had decided not to really make any plans that far ahead, and I caught something in her voice, something troubled. I don't know if that means she isn't expecting us to come back, or if she's expecting that I won't let them stay at my place, or what but... I wish I could make it different for them. I wish I could give them safety and certainty.
I wish I could give them a future they could plan around.
The trouble in her voice passed, and she said, "Why? Has Gunnar got an even bigger house to put us up in?" She laughed. It was really good to hear someone so young, so troubled and so burdened laugh like that. After a pause, she told me to be careful. "You're a mom now," she reminded me. I didn't really need the reminder. I wish I could be there to do the Mom type stuff, take some of the weight off of her and hear that laugh a little more.
So, when we're done kicking Caleb's ass and ruining every single fucking plan he's got, I'll give Susan the good news.
Because I've got plans.
Plans that currently involve finding some way to get around this island.

Don't Go Down to the Water's Edge...

"Funny how
These things come about
When you're tied to the teeth and mouth,
The sound of fury,
A shot of pain,
There was no real reason,
No gain...
I didn't do a thing
I should have done something."
Seven Mary Three, Water's Edge

After the meeting with Tu, we hauled ass out of town, to the west.
The mantra was pretty much, "Which way, Nate?"
The answer was Pigeon. Guess someone just ran out of ideas that naming day.
It was a charming little hamlet with quaint scenery and... no. No it wasn't. It was a swamp, with one street light, three airboats and an airborne alligator. Maybe two, I couldn't tell on account of its velocity. Anyway, the alligator didn't show up until almost the very end and the airboats came in at the middle.
We pulled into the town, on its short little road. I think they'd seriously rolled up the sidewalks. To be fair, it was late at night. Or maybe by then it was early morning.
We kept following the Pritchert compass and somehow found a place that rented out airboats. Well, they did during normal business hours.
This didn't really qualify as "normal" or "business hours," so we "borrowed" one of the boats and kept the engine quiet. We decided a quiet approach, for wherever we were going and whomever we would meet there, was best. Gunnar and Jack rowed us along. With big branches. I've spent about three months with the Band now, and shit like that is still impressive.

Time did that thing where it blurs together when I'm bored. Plus the trees all started to look... well, like trees. Trees that all looked exactly like one another. Call me a florist. A flora-ist?
Whatever.
We were on the water a while, not much going on besides the sounds of the guys, the water, and the wildlife waking up. Even Vader was quiet, which was cool for a dog kinda out of his element.
I'm not really sure how long it was before Nevermore squawked, "Incoming." I didn't see anything, at first. Then, shapes, under the water. They moved fast. They carried... tridents. They looked kinda like mini-krakens, Harryhausen style, like in the first "Clash of the Titans." The good one.
The water things moved a little closer. I guess I'd been looking over Gunnar's shoulder or something at just the right time, because I knew what they were. Nommo. They had something to do with the Loa and the Drowned Road. They used to be worshipped. They weren't anymore, now they were all but forgotten. Which, y'know, totally explained what they were doing here in the swamp outside Pigeon. They started trying to surround the boat.
Jack hung off of the side of the boat and Gunnar took his axe back from Nate and dropped down into the water in front of the boat, ready to fight. My favorite war-machine.
Brendan headed off on his own, which I remember thinking was ridiculously stupid even before he got filleted. He almost died, by the way. Almost. Score one point for team "Laurel says no one's dying today (except maybe hopefully Caleb)."
I watched Jack try to hit a Nommo, and Camila try to shoot a Nommo, and Gunnar try to slash at a Nommo, and it did pretty much nothing. The blows all connected but did no damage. I holstered Sibyl and slung the sniper rifle around before I realized Nate was probably going to have more luck with it than I was. By the time I'd made up my mind how to contribute to the fight, those water-snake-mer-things had slashed up the boat.
It started sinking and I dove into the water, trying to clear the side. Ultimately I wasn't very helpful in this fight. The couple of hits I did get off at the Nommo accomplished next to nothing. I had much better luck with the alligator that landed in the boat right after Jack hopped out, and that's not saying a whole lot. Several seconds went by where I was pretty much useless, until I heard Brendan screaming as he flew through the air and hit the water. I couldn't see him well, but... the water turned very dark around him and he looked... wrong.
The color I see around him, it's usually a bright green when everything's alright. This time it was streaked with a deep burgundy, like old blood. I knew it was bad.
I knew that I needed to get over to him fast, or it was going to get worse. I also knew that a Nommo would help me accomplish that.
I could kinda make out Jack and Gunnar's shapes when I dove into the water, and the nearest Nommo had Jack's massive arms around it. That was going to make getting what I wanted a lot easier. I pulled my spatha free - I think this is the first time I'd used a sword since meeting the guys - and plunged beneath the surface. I stabbed as hard as I could into the Nommo's face.
I think it was too hard.
I also think I stole Jack's kill, which felt really good. I mean, I wasn't technically after the Nommo's death, just its eye. I think I'd read somewhere something about how, if you could stand it, having a Nommo eye in your mouth turns you into one of them. You swim faster, you look just like them (I'm not sure how that will come in handy, but you never know), and you can go deep underwater. That last part especially might come in handy in Guinnee.
The kill was a perk. Those things were... ophidian enough, and in the words of Henry Walton Jones, Jr., "I hate snakes. I really hate snakes."
As I twisted my arm and pulled my blade free, I saw some air escape from Gunnar's mouth. But, seeing as how my powers of pure awesome don't yet include sub-aquan hearing and I have no idea what he said.
If it was important, he'll tell me later.

Brendan was bleeding out into the water when I got to him, and the guy we'd come to find, Luc, was dying of cholera.
I don't know how he got cholera in the swamp. Diseases are popping up in a lot of places where they aren't supposed to.
Anyway, Brendan was the priority. There were a handful of reasons I was not OK with Brendan dying.
One, it would have been really shitty if the last thing I talked to him about was how I'd keep saving his life but didn't and never would love him.
Two, I was serious when I said I'd be saving his life for a long time to repay him for saving Gunnar. One hundred times wouldn't be enough, I'd told him. So I'll aim for one hundred and one.
Three, we as a band really need someone with his kind of smarts, and it's not like we could just go down to the Pigeon area Piggly Wiggly and find another Irish computer geek.
Four, and this is one of the more important reasons, I still count him as an ally and a friend. An awkward friend, but still. Today was not a good day for him to die. He was trying really hard, though. Now he can check "get cut almost in half by a Fomorian" off of his bucket list.
I learned today that I don't need to touch someone to heal them. I was still 30 yards away from him and I... I don't know how it worked. I was still swimming, and I refused to let him die. His wounds, which were numerous and fucking severe, began to knit closed. He went from being a bloody mess to being a bruised mess.

It was the best I could do. I feel like I should have been able to do more.

Sympathy for the Devil

"Please allow me to introduce myself
I'm a man of wealth and taste...
Pleased to meet you,
Hope you guess my name
But what's puzzling you
Is the nature of my game."
The Rolling Stones, Sympathy for the Devil

After the graveyard we hunted down those zombie things. Plagues are never equivalent to cool, and zombies who carry plagues are even less than cool. It didn't take that long. Zombies are neither stealthy nor quick, fortunately for us.
After that we headed to the hotel to close out our rooms and Jack found a card waiting for him, written in Japanese. Jack doesn't speak Japanese.
But someone did, I'm pretty sure it was Nate, and we figured out that someone was asking us to meet them at the docks. Well, it was addressed to Jack specifically and I think the rest of us were included as his sidekicks. Whatever. I was interested in going because they said in so many words that we were badasses. I'm paraphrasing. Maybe interpreting a little bit, too. But that's totally what the author meant.
We actually got to the dock, saw the boat in question and decided that Jack would go in first. He's kinda our meat shield now, and I'd be lying if I said I didn't kinda enjoy seeing him get hit (mostly because I'm absolutely certain he can take it). Gunnar followed behind Jack, I was behind Gunnar and I stopped paying attention to the lineup after that.
The traipse through the boat was short and we found the author of the note quickly. The author, it turned out, was one Tu Suzuki. Tu was the freaky fast Jikininki from Jackson Park.
He was well dressed and looked significantly less like the stuff of nightmare this time. It helped that he wasn't pulping any body parts.
We exchanged words and I don't remember what most of them were. The gist of it was "Hey you guys fight well and that's kinda irritating. P.S. I'm obviously not dead. Gimme back my death claw of doom."
I was a little bummed, I hadn't even gotten to freak Nate out with my awesome Freddy Krueger impression.
That was the boring part. The interesting part was when someone, probably Indiana Esparza, realized (or maybe Tu told us) that a Jikininki is neither titanspawn nor... whatever we are. He's a "third party." And it sounds like there are more things like him, with no allegiance to any side but their own. Probably trying to figure out how to play both sides against the middle.
Add that to the list of things which will likely, eventually, try to kill us.

Hoodoo

Anyway, back to the subject at hand.
Jack said he punched the cop because the guy was about to arrest him. Jack is also as inconspicuous as a neon pink feather boa, and no good at talking his way out of being arrested.
Camila was inside the cemetery, failing to do anything close to investigation and I had my phone ready to send a message to Gunnar: "Dammit Jim, I'm a doctor, not a P.I. Um, seriously, we have no idea what we're doing and Jack-ass punched a cop. Help, please? :)"
Then Nate remembered how to be awesome.
Message saved to drafts. It's bound to happen again.

Those things that bit people were (drumroll)... zombies.
No, no one was really surprised. Caleb had been in the graveyard. That wasn't surprising either. Caleb'd done something with one of Marie Laveau's femurs.
Oh, turns out Gunnar planned on summoning her spirit later that night to find more info about this key thing. And she was a guide for Marie Glapion.
Yeah, the one I killed.
They were related. Oops.
So, I opted not the be there for that.

Anyway, there was a hole in the ground where Caleb had stabbed it. There were claw marks on some headstones where the zombies had risen. They had shambled over to Laveau's tomb before heading out of the cemetery. I'm still not clear exactly what Laveau had to do with it, maybe Caleb was rummaging around looking for the other half of the key?
The key, by the way, is something I had entirely missed on account of the fact that I was busy being suffocated by dirt-water. The whole reason Caleb was in Jackson Park, pulping bodies, was to summon Odette and her twin to ask them how to find that uber-evil sphere I saw in that vision.
Maybe she was connected to the people he raised, or maybe those zombies just shuffled over for some watercooler talk and to receive their orders. Either way Caleb (I don't know if he really did it, but I haven't got anyone else to blame) raised the plague and that is not fucking OK. Neither is the whole zombie thing, and while I don't understand what he wants with it quite yet, I'm not comfortable with the thought of him having that orb. I'm gonna make a blanket statement and just say that nothing Caleb is doing is OK.

Anyway, after the rest of the Band talked to Laveau (Nevermore and I both made ourselves scarce) we got an idea. Nate decided to use some spell to find the ring (turns out the ring some old black guy in a swamp had was the other half of this key thing), but he had to hold Gunnar's axe to cast it.
It looks better on Gunnar. Nate is more of a sword type of guy, katanas or kopesh.

We got to use Nate like a compass after that, which was kinda funny.

Soldiering

"Ambling madly all over the town
The call to arms, you're likened to a whisper
I liken to a radio
You were a brick bag a bowery tuff, so rough...
But You
My brother in arms
I'd rather I'd lose my limbs
Than let you come to harm"
The Decemberists, The Soldiering Life

While I'm thinking about Jack, he's an asshole. I thought maybe he was just quiet, had other reasons for being here. He is quiet, and he does have other reasons for being here ('here' being in the midst of the very abstract war against the Titans) but he is also, and most importantly, an asshole.
After the fight with Caleb he explained, with the barest level of detail, what happened to my car. Camila was driving, and I should thank her for doing so because at high speed a spike strip could have done much more than just popping my tires. It could have, through some reactionary chain, caused them some serious harm. I'm genuinely glad it didn't.
The mortal man who adopted Jack is apparently an asshole, too. So that runs in the family. Jack's been dodging him for a while (he didn't say why or how long), but apparently we kept him still too long. Jack said he didn't think the rest of us would be in danger (he didn't really say what from). That's why he hadn't said anything to us. He said it was something he had to deal with himself, if they caught up to him again (and he didn't say how he'd deal with it or who they were).
Like I usually do, I opened my big mouth. At least I had the sense to do so in a private exchange with him. Before we split up, and before I told Brendan off for his comment in the park, I told Jack he doesn't have to do it alone. I pretty much said to him the same thing Gunnar had said to me. I volunteered to help him, and told him it was stupid that he was trying to do it alone. I know he's a Scion of Ares, and it's a red letter day when he actually bleeds.
I think that's what worries me. His "dad" caused several accidents with whatever that thing on the freeway was, potentially just to divert Jack, rendering Jack's hypothesis that we're not in danger pretty much invalid. I told him he was much more likely to get us hurt by keeping us in the dark. If he would just tell us what was coming, cuz I'd be happy to still be around when it did come, then maybe we could prepare.
That, giving my comrades a chance to prepare (or run away), was the reason I finally told everyone else what was happening with Erzulie. I told him I'd have his back if he wanted a friend. Then I told him I was willing to be completely honest, and I told him what Erzulie's other option was. I wish I hadn't.
Jack said I'd misunderstood. He said, "The reason that I'm here isn't some divine destiny or great journey like the rest of you. The reason I'm here is that I want something Ares knows, and every titanspawn I kill, every plot I foil, every victory I gain along the way brings me that much closer to it. And when I do finally reach it, the titans and their ilk and all the rest of this divine mess will be your problem then. Until then, though, I'm here. You're not my friends, Laurel. You're just the people on the battle line next to me until I get what I want."
I reacted... poorly. I'm not sure if I ever really react any other way. I fumed, "Has it occurred to you that maybe a private investigator, a former cop, and an INTERPOL agent might be able to help you find what you want and get you on your merry way? Then maybe we can get someone on the battle lines next to us who'd care if he got us killed." Then I stomped off, probably looking a bit like a tantrum-stricken teenager. Fists clenched at my sides, brows drawn, overly dramatic, that sort of thing.

He said we're not friends, and that's accurate enough. I really expect that his callousness and secrecy is going to get one of us maimed, if not all of us killed. I can't trust a man who's just on the battlefield to get what he wants. That's not a soldier I can trust to have my back, that's a calamity waiting to happen.
I know he might get me killed. I don't trust him farther than I could throw him. Still, I can't help but care what happens to him. He's part of the Band and I've seen the good things he's capable of doing. He may not be interested in being a friend to any of us, but I'm waiting for him to change his mind. I'm still willing to be a friend to him, when I stop being so furious at him.
I'm gonna Care Bear Stare that motherfucker into a kinder, gentler, more honest disposition.

Graveyard Train

At the hospital, when we realized that some of the people we'd treated just... weren't going to get better... we started questioning them. And by we, I mean Nate, because I still haven't picked up any skill in interrogation. It's apparently not something you can just learn from watching T.V., or someone else.
Anyway.

After asking the (mostly delirious) patients some questions Nate found out that several of the victims were claiming to have been bitten. I examined the bite marks, which was disturbing because people aren't supposed to eat people, and was fairly certain that there were five different individuals responsible for the bite marks. How exactly the plague was being spread was not entirely clear, aside from the obvious. On the patients who'd been bitten, the punctures from the teeth were obviously the entrance site for the virus.
I can't remember if Nate got out of the patients where they lived, or if he just lifted the information from their charts, but we decided it was up to us to check this out.
We didn't have time to hold the CDC's hands through this investigation to make sure they got it done right, and there was a good chance we could just get this shit done ourselves while Gunnar, Jack, Camila and Brendan were doing whatever it was that they were doing. I mean, I kinda knew what they were up to, we'd been checking in every so often. Well... my check in was more like the one text I sent to Gunnar: "Gonna be a while, treating the motherfucking plague."
A while after we started checking out the houses, I noticed that Nevermore was infected. I'm not really sure how it works, what I can do, but I just know when someone's sick. If they hurt I can tell how badly and what's hurting them. Nevermore wasn't hurting, yet. But dammit, I didn't let him become symptomatic of rabies there was no fucking way I was letting him develop the plague.
And then... something clicked. The victims were gone, some of them had bled but Nevermore hadn't messed with any of the infected blood. So, for some reason, these attack scenes were still virulent. I called the CDC guy to give him a heads up. He suddenly remembered I had nothing to do with the CDC. I suddenly remembered I had better things to do than his job, and told him as much before hanging up.
We wanted to know where these... things... had come from, so we decided to backtrack from the house to their origin spot. Nevermore was instrumental here, especially since it was now dark. He followed some tracks to the St. Louis cemetery, where we found Jack and an unconscious cop. So, yeah. We leave him and quiet Camila alone and my car ends up in the shop and police officers end up unconscious. Conclusion: we should stop leaving him and Camila alone.

Be Patient

"If there were no desire to heal
The damaged and broken met along
This tedious path I've chosen here
I certainly would have walked away by now..."
Tool, The Patient

What's black and deadly and spread all over New Orleans? Whatever you're thinking, it's wrong. The right answer is the motherfucking plague.
Seriously. Shit got bubonic today.

You know what? I'll take it. If I have to fight a plague, I'd rather have to deal with a bubonic plague over septicemic; it's a lot easier to treat the hemorrhagic inflammation of the lymph nodes (that's the bullshit that makes the bits near your armpits and thighs swell up all nasty like. The technical term for nasty swelly bits is buboes) than treat free-floating blood clots, but that's strictly my own medical preference. If it had been septicemic plague, I don't know if even I could have helped all of those people, that shit hits fast. People die in a day, bleeding from one organ into another and usually suffering lots of hematemesis (they vomit blood). So there's that.
Actually, if I'm being completely honest (my journal, so I am), my medical preference would be that the plague stayed where it fucking belongs - in the Dark Ages.
Like waiting on my puppies and unicorns vision, I won't hold my breath.

I'm not sure if I should be trying to pin this one on Caleb, but he's a convenient enough target. So he's on the list now. What list? My list of people and things that just need to roll over and die (and stay dead instead of coming back to piss us off). I think I'll probably be adding the plague - fuck it, plagues in general, and cancer - to that list.
So, yeah. We figured out the sirens. I'm really glad Nate asked me to go with him, the CDC knows fuck all about what they're doing.
Well, okay, to their credit they did at least suspect the correct contagion. Their mistake was taking so much time for verification, instead of automatically beginning blanket treatment. I understand the need to protect resources, medicine's not cheap, but... But I'm just grumpy.
I lost some patients today, which never gets to be any more fun. I'm pretty sure I did everything I could.
We spent hours there, Nate and I. When we left, it was because I couldn't bear to just stand around watching people die anymore, the ones I didn't get to quickly enough.
I didn't lose any kids though, thank the gods. I mean, some were infected but they took to the treatment very well.
At least that way I left the hospital with dry eyes and my composure more or less intact. And Nate was really helpful, not just with the way he got us in (he needs to teach me that trick, I'm as inconspicuous as a neon pink feather boa) but also with administering the vaccines and making people listen to me. I don't care if it sounds narcissistic, having the doctors just trust me probably saved some lives.
Wish I'd saved more, but I'll take what I got over nothing.

Heartache Tonight

"Somebody's gonna hurt someone
Before the night is through..."
The Eagles, Heartache Tonight
Maybe I shouldn't have been so tough on Brendan. Maybe I was a little cruel, but what he said was... it was unnerving.
It was right after he pulled us out of that pit Caleb made. I was still clinging to Gunnar, had sand crap still in my eyes. As soon as I wiped it away and looked up, Brendan looked sad and said we were even.
I hadn't known we were keeping score.

He said something else too, I didn't catch all of it but I got the crux of it. Something about "mortal sins" and "self-abuse," and I feel a little stupid for ending up in my underwear outside Odette's and now all of the fights with Aisling and the blushing looks he'd given me make an uncomfortable, awkward type of sense.
I decided, before the Band parted ways, to have a quick word with him. Can't say who else heard, but I really wasn't concerned. It wouldn't have bothered me if the entire Band heard. I'm pretty sure Nate caught most of it, anyway.
I made it clear to Brendan that I do not, and never will, have feelings for him. Not beyond the realm of friendly camaraderie, the sort which comes from simply surviving our line of work together (unless you're Jack, but that's another story). What we've been through, what we'll go through draws us close but that is all I'll ever feel for him.
What I said was, of course, harsher than that. It had to be. The exact spiel was, "You will never mean to me what Gunnar does." I'm pretty sure he'd already figured that part out. That's probably what that look was about, but I wasn't taking the chance that he hadn't.
"You're a good friend and an irreplaceable ally." Brendan had to have known there was a 'but' coming. "But his arms are where I turn for comfort. His shoulders are where I've cried when I was sick and terrified." I've tried really hard to keep mine and Gunnar's relationship a private matter, just between Gunnar and I. I've been mostly successful, but maybe pouring just a little salt in this wound would help Brendan in the long run. "He is the best thing that has ever happened to me. And you saved his life tonight. I was never keeping score, but... for that we will never be even. If I bring you back from the brink a hundred times, patch you up after a thousand battles, it will never be enough."
Maybe a hundred and one will do.

I meant to tell him thank you. I forgot to say that part explicitly. I hope it came through, my gratitude. Not just the fact that I'm heartless and cruel.

Brendan's still a friend, don't get me wrong. I just feel weird spending time with just him. Just in case there are any lingering feelings on his part.
And, even if he has completely moved on, maybe it's better that he believes I'm a narcissistic bitch than harbor any sort of false hope or ridiculous romantic ideas about who and what I am.

And right now, I am a person who is going to go with Nate to find out what the hell is going on with all of those sirens outside.

If You Want Blood

"Blood on the streets, blood on the rocks,
Blood in the gutter, every last drop
You want blood? You got it."
AC/DC, If You Want Blood (You've Got It)

So. Back from my latest near death experience. I haven't had one of those in a while, actually.
Fucking hell.
I need a shower, but some of this I want to get in text before it slips away.

So.
After the Baron split and Gunnar got his body back, we were all kinda at a loss for something to do.
I consulted Sibyl, with a little bit of trepidation after remembering the last infusion of prophetic knowledge. No Scary Mary this time, though. Praise Apollo.
It started with darkness. Not much else. Just a... putrid smell. Then some light, and a vision of a tall guy, not bad looking, all clad in leather, swimming (so I was in water?) down to get... some sphere. And then the scenery must have changed, because suddenly there was a field, and he was holding the sphere above his head. He used it to burn away some zombies, with an army (think legion) of Fomorians behind him.
No, not ominous at all.
For the record, I would very much like a vision of rainbows and unicorns and fluffy puppies sometime. Maybe some sparrows or glittering peacocks holding aloft a banner that says, "And they lived happily ever after and were never bothered by serpents or titans ever again. EVER."
I won't hold my breath.

Jack and Camila went to go check on Vader. Nate went with them. Gunnar was so bored, and kinda bummed at having missed the fight (and this was before I even mentioned standing around in my underwear), that he decided to go try to figure out what the hell that picture was that Jack and Camila had sent us. Brendan, ever the curious type, elected to join us as well.

I rented a car, since mine is in the shop, and Jack still hasn't really told me why. Something about a spike strip. I'm about to start bugging Camila now. The rental was a nice car, fast and sleek. We got down the freeway, about where Jack said it would be and started looking for tracks. We pulled to the side of the road, and I stared at the ground.
I was just observant enough to notice that, yes, that was in fact the ground and not the sky. I used to be better at this stuff. Though, to my relief, Gunnar didn't do too much better. Brendan tried too but I think his expertise lies in varieties of supercomputers and alcohol. Then, to my embarrassment, Nevermore outdid us all. He flew up and around, before settling back on the ground and eying the indentation.
After a moment, he hopped over to Gunnar. "Hey, viking." He waved his wings.
"Sup?"
"Act like a monkey," he more or less commanded Gunnar.
And Gunnar did. I kept a straight face.
Nevermore did not.
When he stopped cackling he said, "Yeah, that's good. Now, act like an ape."
Gunnar almost leaned forward, then realized what the bird was getting at. "OOoooohhh..."
We were debating whether to go to the trouble of tracking it down when we got another text. More Fomorians, wreaking havoc in Jackson Park. The rest of the Band was en route, and I told Gunnar just to drive like James Bond. Not that I have to tell him.

I got the details on the drive, they'd seen a newscast with two of the big uglys holding handfuls of people.
"I think I can probably make those guys easier to handle," I mused while describing the situation to Gunnar. I could already see the wheels turning in his head, developing battle plans while he half listened to me. "And I'm pretty sure I can do it without being naked this time." And that got Gunnar's attention.
"Wait, you were naked?" Wow. He didn't even glance in the mirror at Brendan.
"Well not completely, there was a fire at Odette's, and I ran into it - " I started telling my harrowing tale of courage and heroism but Gunnar cut me off. I didn't even get to the part where I wasn't really completely naked, it's just more succinct than saying "without burning all of my clothes except my bra and panties off."
"You were on fire?!"
"No! Fire doesn't really bother me, I guess."
"Ok, so where did your clothes go?"
"Well, it didn't bother me, but my clothes were extremely bothered. Too bothered to stay on me."
"Oh, so you were on fire like a badass," he grinned. I think there was a little bit of pride there, maybe.

And before I knew it, we were there. We had to run the last little bit of the way, but that wasn't really a problem for us. It's good to know Gunnar can keep up if I wanna go parkour-crazy sometime.
The scene was... unholy. Some asshole was sitting on the statue, while two Fomorians and a Jinkininki were literally stuffing the park's fountain with limbs. Then I realized that the asshole on the statue was the same one I saw in the lake, in front of the army. The one Sibyl showed me. Bad news.
Even better, there was a helicopter circling the park, catching everything on camera.
In the blink of an eye, the Jinkininki made circuits around the park, just... well, the best (and most gruesomely accurate) word is "pulping" some of the limbs from the fountain. He... I think it was a he... made it all the way around the park like, four times before he returned to the fountain and chanted some weird shit. I was frustrated that it took me so long to take this all in before I thought to act.
"Eyes over here, boys," I shouted over the chopper.
I felt it working again, whatever it was. I thought I'd have been too horrified to pull it off. There were seriously gallons of blood on the pavement, rivers of it like Sibyl showed me the night I met Mary... Shit. I should pay more attention to what Sibyl shows me. Or maybe that I might have to lose some clothing again to make it work, but all four of them turned.
The guy on the horse shook it off pretty quickly, but the other three were incapacitated, for now. Even being almost completely disabled, it looked like they were tough to deal with. Nevermore said earlier that the skin of the pus-troll was tough, stony.
Still, between Camila, Nate, Jack, Brendan, Gunnar and Nevermore, one Fomorian and the Jinkininki fell. Eventually.
The problem with this strategy was that eventually, the horse guy (whose name was Caleb) figured out what his lackeys were staring at.
Me.
So he lumbered towards me, a little miffed that I'd interrupted his plans. As he ambled over he got taller. And angrier. And looked like he was about to manhandle me like King Kong on Fay Wray.
A lesser woman, maybe a wiser woman, might have tried to run or escape. Cried out for help. Or do pretty much anything else but what I did.
I said, "Fuck you," and aimed for his nuts.

It was a good, solid kick. I planted my left foot, pivoted my hip and struck out straight with my right leg. The blow landed, I just didn't have any strength behind it. Or he was just too big and angry to care. Probably a little of both.
I was swearing a storm at him (so much for helping Gunnar with that Lent thing) when he grabbed me, pinning my arms painfully to my sides. I'm normally pretty good at slipping out of holds and handcuffs, but this guy was just too effin' strong. I didn't really think that was a problem, at first. I was wrong, by the way.
Then Gunnar, partly being sweet, partly being heroic, and mostly being stupid, ran up the guy's back, told the freak to get his hands off me and tried to plant a few bullets in Caleb's neck. I guess Caleb found the argument to be less than convincing, because those monster hands were on me like bees on an unfortunate bear.
I couldn't even tell what the others were doing anymore around Caleb's massive head, but I kept hearing gunshots and flapping wings and not a whole lot of agonized screaming. I assumed all was going well. Then Caleb stomped the ground and it... I'm not sure what it did. I couldn't see. But apparently it was bad, because Camila sounded annoyed. Then I felt like I was sinking, but still in Caleb's hands. There was a ... a look of some sort on Gunnar's face, and then as we kept sinking I saw the quicksand, giving me just enough time to close my eyes and take a deep breath.
Time slowed down after that, for me. I was stuck in a vise grip and couldn't wriggle out no matter how hard I was trying. Then something, probably Gunnar, pulled Caleb's freaky-huge hands free from me and I was just stuck in the quicksand. And more than a little bit screwed, I remember thinking. I pushed away from Caleb, at least.
After a second or two, or maybe it was even a minute, I don't know, I felt a hand grab at me. Not the way Caleb grabbed, not maliciously. My lack of earth-vision made it impossible to see, but I figured it was Gunnar again, unless some other crazy bastard had jumped in here with me. Somehow he'd managed to find me. I should ask him how he did it. Guy is magical.
I remember thinking that if I were a little sappier, I might have thought to myself, "At least I'll die with Gunnar."

But I'm not. So instead I was thinking, "Gods dammit Gunnar." It's becoming a mantra. "You know, I'd really rather you didn't die at all. I love you, to death." Ah, irony. "But this is probably the stupidest fucking thing I've ever seen you do."
So I had no idea which direction was which, or how to really propel myself in any direction to figure it out. The seconds ticked on and I was the most certain I have ever been that I was going to die, in the quicksand, with Gunnar's arm around me. That comforted and infuriated me all at the same time.

Then we were moving, slowly, towards... some direction. Either it was the surface and I'd get to breathe again and there would be my rainbows and puppies or we were being dragged farther down and I wouldn't be alive much longer to care.
It was, thankfully, option A. minus the rainbows and puppies. Someday...
Brendan had smacked Gunnar with the blunt end of that wicked looking but awkwardly named spear he carries and used it to pull us up.
I was so glad to see all of those faces, but especially Gunnar's, I could have cried.

Ok, that's done. Now I can get shower and get all of this gunk off of me, then go rejoin the Band. Gunnar looks like he's got something on his mind, too.

Und die Sonne scheint....

"Blut gerinnt auf dem Asphalt (blood dries on the asphalt)...
und die Sonne scheint (and the sun is shining)."
Rammstein, Rammstein

I'm not sure what it looked like, when I stepped out of the house.
I felt scary, I felt pissed, I felt strong and I felt... sorry that Gunnar was stuck dancing, while we got to do the fighting. The adrenaline rush felt good. Maybe I'm not as good at being un-vengeful as I thought.
Anyway.
I found what I was looking for. Something tall, covered in boils. I didn't know what it was, and I didn't really care, beyond wondering whether it would bleed (I didn't really even care whether it would bleed real blood).
Nate and the others were already up in its face and didn't look like they'd taken any damage. Good.
I remember sneering, soundlessly and just... wanting it to look at me. Just it, though. Just the creature. I could stand for the others not to start staring at me in my underwear.
And it did. Made it a lot easier to hit. I didn't even have to fire a shot. Jack landed the final blow, and the... thing turned to pus and dust all at once. The dust was poisonous, and Nate got a little wounded from that. Nevermore got a little hurt too, but he's smart enough to fly himself out of trouble.
I was running back to grab my jacket. It's not a long jacket, just comes down to my thighs, but it worked until I could stop back by the hotel and re-clothe myself.
After that, we headed back to the funeral with Odette's headless body. On the way I got the skinny from Nate about some thing called a Jinkininki which I'm pretty sure is a) bad and b) bloodthirsty. Apparently it took Odette's head from the pus-troll (which Brendan mentioned was a Fomorian).
I was hoping that the arrival of another corpse wasn't going to crash the party, but something else was already up. People were rushing out of where the fete had been setup, some looking pretty green. The food we'd arranged in there looked... awful. But that was impossible, I'd watched Jack and Odette cook it fresh. Something else was up. More than that, when they'd gone to put Brigitte in the crypt they were greeted by a swarm of flies. The final straw for the Baron was when I presented him, timidly, with Odette's body.
He just said that some other shit was up and that he had to go. And then he was gone. The whole day turned out nothing like it was supposed to. Flies in a sealed tomb, maggots in fresh food, murder...
And still, the sun shines.