One week later
Lavinia woke up abruptly. They were staying in some crappy suite and Pearl was out on the sofa bed with her mother while Oliver sat draped over a chair. She looked around, feeling something stir in the pit of her stomach and she was quick to look through the place. There was a pull, an inexorable pull to the west.Her heart beat a little faster. There was a sense of something, something that insisted, something that told her come here, come here, please, we need you!
Insisted, pleaded.
Insisted. Pleaded.
Lavinia went to the chair and not-so-carefully shook Oliver by the shoulder. It was late, the sun had long since gone down and there were hours upon hours before there was going to be a need to greet the sun. Oliver slept like a rock, so Lavinia shook him, again. And again. And hard enough that his head jostled off the chair and he was rudely awakened by the blonde celestine staring at him.
"Tha fuck, love?" Oliver stammered. He blinked slowly and tried to adjust in the light.
"I need your car keys," she replied with… entirely too much fervor.
"Huh?" he started to sit up.
"C'mon, where are your keys."
"Love, y'can't jus' wake up a man an' ask for 'is keys," Oliver said. There were the bright and vibrant hints of lower London in his voice. The sounds of an upbringing that had seen no luxury.
"But I need them, I have to go."
"Where?" Oliver asked with confusion. He slowly and carefully started to pry himself up off the chair. He and Lavinia were about the same size; she was one of the few people he didn't tower over. He ran his hand through his hair and blearily stood up and paid attention to Lavinia.
She was… odd. The young woman was anxious, pacing. She was wide eyed and charged. Primed. Ready. Oliver only saw her this way before a fight, but there wasn't a fight for miles. This was peaceful, calming; Colorado was a place that was serene and radiant. It had a good effect on the little cabal- they were holed up in some quiet mountain retreat. Oliver got to have a family moment. Cameron got to be a mother. Lavinia got to recharge, stand radiant and boundless at the edges of nature. She didn't quite belong here, but in those quiet moments at the rented suite she felt more like she belonged than anywhere else.
"I don't know but… but I need to go," she insisted.
"I can't letcha go alone, Lavi, you know it ain't safe."
"Then come with me."
"Where are we going?"
"West," Lavinia told him. It was the first time that Oliver had been on the receiving ends of her convictions. Her strength. Her purpose, that light that shined and bore into people like torches. He looked at her and his frame tensed; he didn't think it wise to tell her no. To argue with such intense purpose. Oliver sighed.
"I'll drive you where you need to go," he said, "I'll tell Cameron she gets some one on one time time with Pearl."
"I'll get your things," Lavinia told him, and she was off.
---
It took sixteen hours and forty minutes to drive from their location in Colorado to Hampton, Oregon.
---
The sun was starting to go down, and Oliver was exhausted. He was tired by the time they crossed the state lines, but it was will alone that was keeping him awake. It was, however, a misguided devotion to his cabal mate that had him driving the convertible to some unknown place. For all he knew, they were walking into something terrible. He'd tried asking Lavinia what it was that had her needing to go to some random city in the west, but all he got was an earnest I don't know and I just need to go. I'll find out my purpose once we're there. As though this was some great spiritual imperative.
They pulled up outside of a motel not unlike many of the motels they'd stayed at. It was the kind of place that you went to because you didn't want anyone else to know you were there. The place took cash. The lights flickered on the outside and there was a subtle hum in the cold air. That's what neon lights did, but perhaps that hum was coming from something else entirely.
"Wait in the car," Lavinia said. She was wide and alert. Her whole body seemed charged, wound tight. The young woman went to the other side of the car, reaching into her overnight bag and retrieving a knife. Something sharp and honed and bloodied. Something that sung because she'd given it the lyrics. Because she's sung so many times with a knife in hand that it knew her cadence, felt her breaths and measures. People thought that only Euthanatoi had such a rapport with their weapons.
"Fuckin' Hell, Lavinia," Oliver cursed as he crawled out of the vehicle. He watched her. Saw her purpose and intent and he was uncertain, if only for a moment, if something was going to happen. If he was going to need to protect her from something terrible or protect something from his friend. He wasn't sure yet, but Oliver watched her walk up to a room. Room C17. She knocked, hard. Turned her intense attentions on a piece of halfassed plywood.
"Open the fucking door," she demanded. Voice booming and intense like a herald. Sonorous.
"Christ, Lavi," Oliver said, coming close enough to hold the hand with the knife, "who the fuck are you talking to?"
"I don't know," she half whispered, "but I'm not waiting- open the fucking door or I will break it down."
"Lavinia, people are coming out, calm down."
"You have until I get to five to open this door… One?" Which was when Lavinia lost her patience, took a step back from the door and placed her boot rather firmly on the door. She kicked, hard, and the door jostled just enough that the man opening it fell backwards. The young man stared up at her in awe and horror. Candles burned out and chalk circle marked through and all the furniture pushed aside. He stared, as that staring was the only thing that they could do. The young man was thin, a sandy blond thing blue eyes and wiry muscles. His hair was short, or the kind of short that a young man's hair is when someone told him that, if he was to be taken seriously, he should cut his hair. He had the impetuousness of someone who believed himself indestructible. His eyes, blue and crystalline, shone the light of a man who fears that his belief of indestructibility was the be tested.
He had a pristine suit, tattoos going up his arms past the rolled sleeves. Patterns within patterns. Signs within signs. Sigils of glorious detail. He cursed, but did not Curse. The next words out of his mouth made Lavinia stop.
"Child of the western wind, I petition your aid-" his voice was confident. Hand up, pleading with something that he did not see. The words that he used after were strange and foreign. He scooted back into the chalk circle, and again repeated something that made Lavinia… stop. She jerked her hand away from Oliver, but didn't drop her knife.
She exhaled slow and shuddering, and her dark eyes fell upon the man. He said something and… she just… looked at him. Looked at him as though she had never heard him, or as if he was the only person who had ever spoken a language sweet and certain to her soul.
"Child of the western wind?" she repeated, then cautiously, "… who were you actually looking for?"
"I have no reason to tell you anything," he said, his voice was nervous but the young man was standing on his fee, eyes darted to a nearby table. He had a knife there, if had tools there, if only, if only…
"I… I don't understand, why are you-"
At about that time the young man started talking true and fast and in words Lavinia couldn't understand but he kept repeating one word, one Name over and over as though this would bring him aid, as if-
"Stop it. I'm here already!" Lavinia snapped, she even bridged the space between the two of them.
The young man's face fell. His eyes widened and he cleared his throat.
"Look, I… I don't know how you got me here, or got the message, but I was in Colorado, and whoever you're looking for isn't me, so… uh…" she took a step back, looking just as confused as the young blond man did.
"I… I never…" he laughed, running his hands through his hair, "I can't believe you're here!"
"Look asshole, first rule of summoning something? Know what you're summoning. You dragged my ass here, now you owe me dinner and an explanation. Preferably dinner first. And you owe my friend here gas money."
"I'm not entirely certain how-"
"Do it."
"Jesus," he grumbled, straightening out his suit and taking his wallet, "who would have thought angels would be so wrathful."
"You don't know the half of it yet," Lavinia warned. And, with that, the trio left for a Denny's.
Lavinia woke up abruptly. They were staying in some crappy suite and Pearl was out on the sofa bed with her mother while Oliver sat draped over a chair. She looked around, feeling something stir in the pit of her stomach and she was quick to look through the place. There was a pull, an inexorable pull to the west.Her heart beat a little faster. There was a sense of something, something that insisted, something that told her come here, come here, please, we need you!
Insisted, pleaded.
Insisted. Pleaded.
Lavinia went to the chair and not-so-carefully shook Oliver by the shoulder. It was late, the sun had long since gone down and there were hours upon hours before there was going to be a need to greet the sun. Oliver slept like a rock, so Lavinia shook him, again. And again. And hard enough that his head jostled off the chair and he was rudely awakened by the blonde celestine staring at him.
"Tha fuck, love?" Oliver stammered. He blinked slowly and tried to adjust in the light.
"I need your car keys," she replied with… entirely too much fervor.
"Huh?" he started to sit up.
"C'mon, where are your keys."
"Love, y'can't jus' wake up a man an' ask for 'is keys," Oliver said. There were the bright and vibrant hints of lower London in his voice. The sounds of an upbringing that had seen no luxury.
"But I need them, I have to go."
"Where?" Oliver asked with confusion. He slowly and carefully started to pry himself up off the chair. He and Lavinia were about the same size; she was one of the few people he didn't tower over. He ran his hand through his hair and blearily stood up and paid attention to Lavinia.
She was… odd. The young woman was anxious, pacing. She was wide eyed and charged. Primed. Ready. Oliver only saw her this way before a fight, but there wasn't a fight for miles. This was peaceful, calming; Colorado was a place that was serene and radiant. It had a good effect on the little cabal- they were holed up in some quiet mountain retreat. Oliver got to have a family moment. Cameron got to be a mother. Lavinia got to recharge, stand radiant and boundless at the edges of nature. She didn't quite belong here, but in those quiet moments at the rented suite she felt more like she belonged than anywhere else.
"I don't know but… but I need to go," she insisted.
"I can't letcha go alone, Lavi, you know it ain't safe."
"Then come with me."
"Where are we going?"
"West," Lavinia told him. It was the first time that Oliver had been on the receiving ends of her convictions. Her strength. Her purpose, that light that shined and bore into people like torches. He looked at her and his frame tensed; he didn't think it wise to tell her no. To argue with such intense purpose. Oliver sighed.
"I'll drive you where you need to go," he said, "I'll tell Cameron she gets some one on one time time with Pearl."
"I'll get your things," Lavinia told him, and she was off.
---
It took sixteen hours and forty minutes to drive from their location in Colorado to Hampton, Oregon.
---
The sun was starting to go down, and Oliver was exhausted. He was tired by the time they crossed the state lines, but it was will alone that was keeping him awake. It was, however, a misguided devotion to his cabal mate that had him driving the convertible to some unknown place. For all he knew, they were walking into something terrible. He'd tried asking Lavinia what it was that had her needing to go to some random city in the west, but all he got was an earnest I don't know and I just need to go. I'll find out my purpose once we're there. As though this was some great spiritual imperative.
They pulled up outside of a motel not unlike many of the motels they'd stayed at. It was the kind of place that you went to because you didn't want anyone else to know you were there. The place took cash. The lights flickered on the outside and there was a subtle hum in the cold air. That's what neon lights did, but perhaps that hum was coming from something else entirely.
"Wait in the car," Lavinia said. She was wide and alert. Her whole body seemed charged, wound tight. The young woman went to the other side of the car, reaching into her overnight bag and retrieving a knife. Something sharp and honed and bloodied. Something that sung because she'd given it the lyrics. Because she's sung so many times with a knife in hand that it knew her cadence, felt her breaths and measures. People thought that only Euthanatoi had such a rapport with their weapons.
"Fuckin' Hell, Lavinia," Oliver cursed as he crawled out of the vehicle. He watched her. Saw her purpose and intent and he was uncertain, if only for a moment, if something was going to happen. If he was going to need to protect her from something terrible or protect something from his friend. He wasn't sure yet, but Oliver watched her walk up to a room. Room C17. She knocked, hard. Turned her intense attentions on a piece of halfassed plywood.
"Open the fucking door," she demanded. Voice booming and intense like a herald. Sonorous.
"Christ, Lavi," Oliver said, coming close enough to hold the hand with the knife, "who the fuck are you talking to?"
"I don't know," she half whispered, "but I'm not waiting- open the fucking door or I will break it down."
"Lavinia, people are coming out, calm down."
"You have until I get to five to open this door… One?" Which was when Lavinia lost her patience, took a step back from the door and placed her boot rather firmly on the door. She kicked, hard, and the door jostled just enough that the man opening it fell backwards. The young man stared up at her in awe and horror. Candles burned out and chalk circle marked through and all the furniture pushed aside. He stared, as that staring was the only thing that they could do. The young man was thin, a sandy blond thing blue eyes and wiry muscles. His hair was short, or the kind of short that a young man's hair is when someone told him that, if he was to be taken seriously, he should cut his hair. He had the impetuousness of someone who believed himself indestructible. His eyes, blue and crystalline, shone the light of a man who fears that his belief of indestructibility was the be tested.
He had a pristine suit, tattoos going up his arms past the rolled sleeves. Patterns within patterns. Signs within signs. Sigils of glorious detail. He cursed, but did not Curse. The next words out of his mouth made Lavinia stop.
"Child of the western wind, I petition your aid-" his voice was confident. Hand up, pleading with something that he did not see. The words that he used after were strange and foreign. He scooted back into the chalk circle, and again repeated something that made Lavinia… stop. She jerked her hand away from Oliver, but didn't drop her knife.
She exhaled slow and shuddering, and her dark eyes fell upon the man. He said something and… she just… looked at him. Looked at him as though she had never heard him, or as if he was the only person who had ever spoken a language sweet and certain to her soul.
"Child of the western wind?" she repeated, then cautiously, "… who were you actually looking for?"
"I have no reason to tell you anything," he said, his voice was nervous but the young man was standing on his fee, eyes darted to a nearby table. He had a knife there, if had tools there, if only, if only…
"I… I don't understand, why are you-"
At about that time the young man started talking true and fast and in words Lavinia couldn't understand but he kept repeating one word, one Name over and over as though this would bring him aid, as if-
"Stop it. I'm here already!" Lavinia snapped, she even bridged the space between the two of them.
The young man's face fell. His eyes widened and he cleared his throat.
"Look, I… I don't know how you got me here, or got the message, but I was in Colorado, and whoever you're looking for isn't me, so… uh…" she took a step back, looking just as confused as the young blond man did.
"I… I never…" he laughed, running his hands through his hair, "I can't believe you're here!"
"Look asshole, first rule of summoning something? Know what you're summoning. You dragged my ass here, now you owe me dinner and an explanation. Preferably dinner first. And you owe my friend here gas money."
"I'm not entirely certain how-"
"Do it."
"Jesus," he grumbled, straightening out his suit and taking his wallet, "who would have thought angels would be so wrathful."
"You don't know the half of it yet," Lavinia warned. And, with that, the trio left for a Denny's.