Uriel

In the days after fulfilling Tarren's request, Uriel was left on edge. He had not forgotten the visit in the alleyway and neither had the beast. In fact, if anything, it seemed to have formed something of an obsession with the entity following them. More than once now he had caught it reaching past the bars of its cage searching for that unique source of sustenance. It was something he caught the beast doing with growing frequency and it didn't bode well for anyone. Every day the beast's boldness grew with its hunger and unlike when they were a child, simply caging it wasn't nearly as effective.

When Uriel entered the classy restaurant meant to be a meeting place for the night's transaction the host was too busy helping a very important-looking couple to notice the shimmer that marked his passing. It was a complicated dance to avoid wandering patrons and hurried servers, but Uriel managed to avoid being run into as he made his way to one of the tables in the center of the room. Its single occupant was a woman he instantly recognized, and a spark of amusement quirked at his lips.

Few people managed to track down the right connections, but it seemed the lady serpent had more determination than he had given her credit for.

"Got to say, Dimitri doesn't often send your type my way."

"And what type is that?"

Python didn't bother looking up from the steak she was cutting into perfect bite-sized squares when Uriel took the seat across from her. but if she had his glamor would have shown her the same arrogant fool she'd seen before.

"The ones that want something alive."

"Is that so?" she moved on to the potatoes and carrots.

"Tell me, what did they do?" Uriel asked placing an elbow on the table and resting his chin in his fist.

"It's not what they did, it's what they could do."

"And what's that?"

Python didn't answer immediately but when she did it was with a question of her own.

"What do you know of the old mage?"

Uriel shrugged, uninterested in the new topic

"they're a bunch of pricks that think they're better than us because they're old and talk to plants. What do they have to do with anything?"

"They pride themselves on remembering the history of man. If you can find one, they'll tell you about how things were before the Awakening." She took a bite, chewed, then reached for the little pitcher of gravy and poured a generous amount on her plate as she continued to explain. "Most of them just rant about how only a few were left but sometimes you can find one who will tell you some very interesting stories.

"One of those stories is of a man who would warn the village people whenever disaster would strike. At first, the people of the village loved him because as long as they listened, they stayed safe. Years, some say generations, went by. The man continued to give his warnings, but love turned into hate then hate to fear. You see unlike them he never aged, so eventually, they grew so afraid that they drove him and his wife out. But he'd still become. He'd sit outside the village and call out his warnings. Of course, they had stopped listing, convinced he was a demon or spirit putting cursing on them. Eventually, he stopped coming but then there was famine and all the villagers died so it wasn't like they needed him anymore anyway."

"that's sad and all" Uriel pointed out without any real heartache "but I didn't come here to listen to bedtime stories."

"But that's not where things end." Python went on "See he didn't come back because his wife had given birth. And after the village had run them off, they found a new home with people who didn't fear them. People who welcomed the family and their extremely useful talent with open arms.

"So, they got their happy ending after all. why that important?" he prodded, taking advantage of the information Python gave so freely.

"Because when people say stories come from truth, this is the one they mean. There are a thousand different versions of their story. They come from different eras and different places, but all are nearly identical when it comes to certain details. All of them document this man's family along with their ability to know the future. We know it's not just a myth because for as long as records have existed there has always been someone present at every event trigging a new era. We believe those people are his descendants and wish to employ them."

"Then what do you need me for? I'm skilled but even I can't see the future."

"Because we don't know who we're looking for. The decedents are unfortunately sparse for such an old family but all you have to do is find one and we'll do the rest."

"We?" Uriel wondered aloud.

"My people will be doing most of the work."

She smiled pleasantly and the show of teeth made Uriel's lips twitch with the beast's need to bare its own. It didn't like her and that wasn't something Uriel could just ignore, especially not when it wanted to drain her dry so badly.

The nature of the beast's intellect was a complicated thing. It understood his thoughts on a level so deep it was almost disturbing yet lacked the reasoning to comprehend why he did things the way he did. Whatever the creature was, it lived inside Uriel's mind but functioned solely on raw emotions and instinct as it fed on any power it didn't recognize as its own. But while its urges were twisted by the endless hunger and pain that drove it to feed, Uriel trusted the predatory instincts that kept them both alive. And right now, those instincts were telling him not to trust the women before him.

She was hiding something, and he didn't like secrets he couldn't have.

"No."

"No?" she tilted her head at the unexpected answer and Uriel didn't miss the way her hand tightened around her steak knife.

He shrugged.

"I have better things to do with my time than look for some fairy tale."

"You would be compensated for your efforts." She said through tight teeth.

"Then get someone else to do it."

He stood just as a server came to offer Python more wine, blissfully unaware of Uriel. Uriel didn't wait for him to finish pouring before turning his back on the python and striding toward the exit, pausing only to pluck a beautifully baked roll of one of the abandoned tables being cleaned by another ignorant server, Python's gaze blazing fire where it bore into the back of his head all the way out the door.

Uriel's next stop was a little store tucked away from the city center of New Orleans beneath a Candles and Soap shop and nestled behind a failing brewery. Mother Legba's House of Bones was not a place easily found, nor could it simply be stumbled upon by tourists who had wandered too far from the strip. The only patrons who dared pass through its door were not the kind looking for love potions or palm readings and anything they bought within its walls was paid for in blood and misery.

As he followed the steps leading below ground Uriel felt the beast press against his insides, excited to get to one of its favorite playgrounds only to hiss in frustration and raked its claws down his spine when Uriel bypassed the brewery and its drunken customers to enter the little shop instead.

When he stepped inside the bell over the door was drowned out by the piercing screech of a hawk and was followed by a cacophony of sound. Rattles and shrieks greeted Uriel as he walked past the cages scattered about, and what animals roaming freely hissed or growled but kept well out of his way. The shop itself was barely bigger than a single-bedroom apartment but the walls were lined by shelves stuffed with old jars, dusty boxes, and rusty cages. The only light came from the heat lamp inside a large tank being used as a counter in the back and a few candles spotting the shelves. Three turtles and several unusual species of fish swam circles inside its lower half while the lid lay askew, the upper half currently empty of its main inhabitant.

An old crone pushed past the hanging beads clicking in the back doorway, along water moccasin draped around her neck like a very deadly scarf. "House of Bones" was just as apt a description of its owner as a suggestion of what she sold. She wore a ghostly white gown over her skeletal frame and the black paint lining her face only emphasized her sunken eyes and lips so thin they stretched over yellowed teeth. Like Uriel, she did not bother with glamour and her slitted eyes found him in the dark with no trouble.

"Mother Legba." He murmured. "you're still alive."

Despite the snake sliding around one arm and nudging at the space just below her chin, its tongue flicking out as it tasted the air, she carried with her a rabbit missing both its ears along with most of one eye. She went to Uriel, plucked the bread from his hand, and dumped the mutilated rodent in its place.

"Of course, I am" she rasped in a brittle voice, picking an invisible strand of hair off his coat then carefully carried it behind the counter to drop it inside a bowl of smoking incense. "Why wouldn't I be?"

"Because you were supposed to be dead over a hundred years ago."

She bit into the loaf and spoke around a mouth full of crumbs.

"So, the spirits say."

Uriel held out the rabbit by the scruff of its neck and waited patiently for mother Legba to reclaim it. She did so but only after finishing the bread and settling in a chair made for someone several times her size.

"And what else do they say?" He asked almost absently, picking a jar labeled 'Patricia- 1899' and studying the fleshy blob inside, before sitting it back next to another holding gnarled dry hands marked "Theodore- 1712" before continuing on along the shelf. Mother Legba watched him with cool eyes while stroking her injured pet.

"They speak of a poisoned place."

Uriel paused and glanced at the aged mage.

"Where might that be?" he prodded lightly.

"Release me and will tell you."

His eyes narrowed at her offered hand but then he gave a little smile and went back to slowly strolling along the perimeter of the small shop examining its wares, stopping occasionally to inspect this and that.

"what's to stop me from just making you tell me."

"Don't play with me boy." She hissed. "You may be able to force my hand, but I can make you regret it."

"Well, now I'm curious." Having reached the end of the row Uriel worked his way back down the other side, stepping over a three-legged cat that yowled like he was the devil himself. "What miseries would you rain down upon my head?"

"Not on you" she smiled "the old man."

Uriel paused once again in his perusal and faced the old woman.

"Now that," He said, "would just be rude." But this time when she held out her wrist, he took it.