Lola

[mnemosyne]

"I don't know what rumors you and your family heard about the incident a few weeks ago. They're keeping it quiet as they can." A half-hooked smile that does not reach her eyes. They. The Garou, she means. "Though I am sure that they will share what they know with the each other at the next full moon. The facts are simple enough - one of the city Guardians was ritually murdered, his body surrounded by the bodies of a number of men and women, whose hearts were removed. Consumed, and left behind in a parking garage far too close to their headquarters for anyone's comfort.

"I'll spare you the most gruesome of the details," the Shadow Lord continues, dark eyes carefully aslant from Calden. Not because she fears to meet his eyes or because she refuses to do so, but because she is keeping a careful watch on their periphery. Here again is the edge of her smile, as spare as any other, though perhaps not so ruthless as it might have been when first forged. " - in great part because I have spared myself the most gruesome of the details.

"One of my assistants tracked down what information she could on the dead men and women. No rhyme or reason to their disappearance. No evident patterns of place or time or opportunity, except for the brutality to which they were subjected in the end."

She inhales through her nose, her eyes dropping further aslant, dark head tipped forward, expression rather removed. He does not know her well enough to know that the bracing twist of her mouth, that follows, the steady rise of her dark eyes back to meet his own is the same expression she employed again and again in the days and weeks when it seemed she was accepting condolences from every Kinfolk in her acquaintance, and far too many gruff and scarred strangers.

"This is not a new enemy, though. But an old one returned to plague. Perhaps a year ago, a year and a half-ago, there was a series of similar attacks. A large pack of fallen targeted the city. They called themselves l'horreur bien-aimée," she speaks the French with as much precision as she can manage, but does not know the language, " - and for madmen, they were remarkably disciplined in their approach. They targeted Garou, and kin, taking them when they were alone, or in very small groups. Swarming and overwhelming with their numbers.

"Creating these - " a pause, her head canted aslant as if she were listening for a particularly distant and haunting tone, the tip of her tongue against the back of her teeth as she considers her next words. " - tableaux, for Sept to find. Corpses arranged, just so. Hearts consumed. Viscera - "

A sharp breath out. She leaves the word as it stands, finishes the thought with another spare, tight smile.

"The Sept Elders quiet nearly insisted that Kin who lived in the city move into the Sept itself. Or, venture out only with an escort of some rank.

"Of course they hunted the hunters as well. Eventually, they destroyed perhaps half the pack, and the tainted ones slipped away to wherever they'd come from in the first place. The attacks stopped. The city slipped back into some semblance of normalcy.

"I suppose their tale-tellers would call it a victory."

Here, she finds the cowboy's eyes again, across the table.

"But our losses were much greater than theirs."

The restaurant is crowded, popular, lively, and the sound of laughter and conversation fills the vertical space, as servers weave between the tables, rushing to keep up with the demands. Some crowd of tourists are clapping for the show of the guacamole prepared tableside and a pleasant hum has enveloped the room.

"And now, they're back."

--

That is the story she has for him. Told in a clear and quiet and quite nearly dispassionate voice. Once he has heard it, she becomes pensive. The truth is, there's little more that can be said.

Though her rather small plate is little more than half-consumed, she eats nothing more. Takes, merely, a sip or two further of her drink and summons the check with a direct look at the waitress and a lift of her chin. There is no dance over the bill. She explains quite clearly that they are splitting it, and pays her own in cash. If Calden pulls out a credit card to pay, she forestalls him with a touch of the tip of her forefinger on the edge of the card, and covers his bill with cash as well.

"Perhaps for the next few weeks or months, Mr. White, when you are in Denver it would be wise to avoid a paper trail."

After they have paid their bills, as they are saying goodbye, she cuts him another glance. Asks him if he has a conceal-carry permit. No? He has her card. He should call her office Monday morning. Her assistant will fax him the proper forms. Normally it takes a few weeks or a few months but, if they get it filed Monday, Judge Hagen will entertain the matter Tuesday morning.