You could feel the aura of annoyance seeping right through the door, as the tall figure came nearer. The soft tapping of his walking cane in perfect rhythm with his steps, clad by designer Italian shoes.

Nobody had to open the door for him. He passed right through it, as if it didn't exist at all. The soft talking that was going around the table of the Council suddenly stopped.

The room, this time, was a nice conference room in an old historical building in Norway. The cold was being kept outside by large double-glass windows, and the snow was falling softly over the small city under them. No outside noise was allowed in.  So, when the councillors stopped talking, the hush was complete.

«I believe my presence was requested.»

Algernon Leshrac didn't look particularly scary. He was a man in his late seventies, even if his body, kept on track by magic, sported the signs of the years without their merciless cruelty. His back was straight, his eyes as sharp as the darkest night, and the walking stick was merely a fancy addition to his perfectly lordly appearance. His Prince of Wales suit was of a soft smoky grey, and the intense red of his tie and pocket handkerchief was a violent spot of colour that almost hurt the eyes.

There was something around his figure that titillated the fight-or-flight instinct of the people around him.

«Head of the House, is always a pleasure and an honour.» Zachariah almost jumped to his feet and bent his back in a bow, which such a readiness that made Algernon's eyes glimmer with approval.

«Zachariah, my dear boy. It's nice to see you're still up and around.» his voice was a mellow symphony of half-whispered undertones. Zachariah sat down, his face slightly paler than before.

«My dear Algernon, we perfectly know you don't want to be here...» Angelina Casadei, Councilwoman of the Internal Diplomacy Division, stood up elegantly, as fast as her rounded body let her, her bright dark-brown eyes already glimmering with unease.

«You certainly didn't need to be Balakrishna to know something like that. Good evening, my dear fellow, by the way.» Algernon completely passed over the olive-skinned Italian woman to slightly bow his head towards the Indian man on the far side of the table. Reyansh Balakrishna, Councilman of the Diviner Division, slowly returned the gesture. «So, I just came to make sure you all agree that we can forget about this ridiculous shenanigan of Trial and focus on the more important matters at hand.» it wasn't even a question. It was a fact.

Viceroy stood up, slowly.

«We know you're a very busy man, Algernon. To look after such a... healthily manifold House such as yours must be a tiring task.» Viceroy's deep voice was slightly spotted with a deep French pronunciation he never seemed to have lost in the long years away from home. «Nonetheless, you're the Appointed Judge of the Order, and you know better than all that Order Law can't simply be dismissed as a whim.»

«Poppycock.» Algernon didn't even raise his voice. «You, better than anyone Viceroy, should know that Justin doesn't do anything but on a whim. And I'm far too old and, as you kindly pointed out, busy, to run after his every tantrum. I guessed everyone in this room would have easily taken Justin's new charade for what it is: a way to poke me after so many blissful months of peace.»

«We're sympathetic with your needs Algernon, but you swore to uphold Order Law, and that means presiding trials. It's true that there hasn't been one in ages, but that doesn't mean...» Shaquana Nzeogwu, Councilwoman of the Mage Academy Division, started talking. But someone put a badly cured and very cold hand on her mouth, freezing her every movement by pure fear.

«Shaquana-oh-na-na. It's not with kind words that you persuade the mighty Algernon Leshrac to do his job.» Justin's voice was a symphony of crazy cackling. «Oh, here you are, my dearest old fart!»

«Justin. How far did you leave your elderly with the straight-jacket?» Algernon asked, completely unfazed.

«I missed you too, old shriveled ass!» Justin let Shaquana go and moved with little jumping steps towards the old man, who remained still. He didn't flinch, not even when Justin disappeared and reappeared behind him. «Uh, no, nobody left any knife in your back. Your family is getting sloppy.»

«Don't you have someone to kill without a reason, instead of pestering me?»

«Aw come on! Am I not allowed a joke about family backstabbing with an old friend?»

«Not when you're the master of general backstabbing, no.» it was eerie

Giorgio Della Rovere discreetly cleared his throat.

«The Council had discussed it, and we have to second Justin's request.» he exposed, briefly.

«This is madness.» again, Algernon merely stated a fact. «And even if it does sound pleonastic, seeing from whence it comes, does it have to be me who reminds you the situation we're in, and the fact that we should be directing all of our attention towards most pressing matters?»

«Your bladder?» Justin guffawed like a teenager.

«The werepeople.» Algernon closed the discussion.

A strain of tension filled the room, passing from glance to glance.

«There had been rumors of them being on the rise, but still nothing confirmed. Nothing worse than usual, I mean.» Della Rovere said, after some thinking. «The usual attacks, one or two Covens badly hurt, some dead on both sides. Nothing that we hadn't seen in the last years.»

«I had asked Zachariah to wait before sharing our intel, but I might as well take this opportunity to show you precisely why we don't need distractions from things that matter.» Algernon moved a hand in the air, and with the utmost grace, extracted a file from it. He took two steps towards the table and put it right in the middle of it. Even Justin, now, looked interested in the sheets that Angelina started to pull out from the file.

«As you see, they are reports of some of my family members, documenting a strange pattern of interventions, in the last months. The werepeople were never dormant, but this is something new.» Algernon introduced.

«Many of those sites are Ripple locations.» Della Rovere said, almost under his breath. «It's where spontaneous passages to the Undertide manifest themselves. Where the Tide is thinner.»

«You're saying that the werepeople are going to the Undertide?» Wao-Fong sounded quite disbelieving.

«Not possible.» said in a muffled but decisive tone. He passed a hand in his white-blond hair, before adjusting his glasses over his squared nose. «Werepeople not have the knowledge to find and pass through Ripples.»

«So that must mean they're being helped. And seen that no Mage in his right mind would ever help a wereperson to pass to the Undertide, that leaves us with one ongoing theory: the Undertide creatures are letting them in.»

«Oh, come on!» Justin scoffed. «We've been at war with the werepeople since we accidentally created them! The song and dance are always the same! They plead us to lift the curse that turns them into wild beasts, we say "sorry not sorry", they kill some of us, we kill some of them, rinse and repeat!»

«As incredibly delirious as it is, Justin's summarizing of our thousand-year war is somewhat on point. Up until the time they get tired of rinsing and repeat, and they try to change the soap.» Algernon glared at the other Mage, who in return simply laughed. «This change of pattern can be of the utmost worry, and even if I'm not a member of this Council...» more than one eye stopped on Zachariah, who had his eyes glued on Algernon as if his life depended on it. «... I strongly move we forget this trial nonsense and focus our attention on a massive 10th Division tactic to contact the Fairy Court and extract some information from them.» Algernon's eyes stopped on Della Rovere, who looked thoughtful.

«Fairy Court? Why the Fairy Court?» Sean Blair, Councilman of the Coven Division, as always jumped up middle-scene as if he had just woken up from a long dream.

«The Pearly Gates have been closed for centuries, and for what we know, Heaven doesn't stick its nose in mortal affairs anymore since that day. So, we can chalk off the Archangels and their Ranks. On the other side, I can see Pandaemonium ready and eager to help in any possible mayhem, but Demons can't open portals without help from this side. The Elysials are too busy fighting the wars they didn't get to finish when they were alive... which basically leaves Oberon and Titania's court.» Della Rovere explained. Even if the Undertide Diplomacy wasn't a mystery to many, there were many members of the Council who never really worried themselves with the balance between their world and the one over the thin, glossy invisible wall they had called The Tide.

«Thanks for bringing all this to our attention, Algernon.» Angelina stood up, collecting the sheets back into the file. «We will surely look into this. But, we're sorry, the trial is still happening.»

Algernon's eyes flared. And when a Leshrac's eyes flared, they literally did. Even if Algernon loved smoke much more than fire. «It's the Law. And if we start ignoring the Law every time we have something more important to do, we will never follow it.» Angelina continued, as brave as she could be. «It will just take one day, Algernon. You come, you hear the two sides, listen to some witnesses and render your sentence. You don't even have a jury.»

Algernon's grip on the walking stick got so tight his knuckles whited. Justin, on the other side of the room, was literally dancing in a chuckling delight. Algernon looked at the Councillors. His glare remained one second longer on Zachariah, so much that his freckles started paling too. He stopped his gaze right into Justin's mad blue eyes. They remained lock for what seemed like an infinite amount of time.

Then, the Algernon took a deep breath.

Then, he disappeared into thin air.

https://youtu.be/dtuGRiesoMU

The night had gone along for quite some time, and Banshee was hammered as a wall, after discovering what the other two had done. Until that moment, no one had told them anything, but she knew that, any minute now, the phone would ring, and the Chief would scream. But, until then, she just wanted to swim in the bliss of drunkenness. She fell heavily on the bed without even taking off her boots. She felt a relieving sensation when the familiar feeling of her mattress embracing her spread. She fell asleep even before her head had touched the pillow.

Then, after what felt like seconds, her eyes suddenly flashed open.

The red light of dawn was just trying to color the sky outside her window.

She wasn't rested.

But she was wide awake, and her heart was thumping.

A not unfamiliar sensation made her skin tingle, and her hair stand up straight on the back of her neck.

She slid her hand to the gun under the pillow, and slowly moved her eyes towards the window.

She was right.

Perched as a vulture on her windowsill, here he was again. The hood was keeping his face completely obscured, apart from the sardonic smirk on his thin lips. But this time, the smirk had a disappointed note, even a little angry, the same tone that could be found in his voice.

«It's like disinfesting from cockroaches with you three.» said Staccato sharply.

«Fuck away from me window, ye perv!» she hissed.

«Believe me, I couldn't be less interested in spying on your graces if you were an Unseelie Troll.» he put a hand inside his jacket, and with Banshee's instinct of self-preservation kicked in with the violence of a horse. She raised her hand, pointing her gun at the figure. Staccato didn't look impressed in the slightest, and he revealed what he had gone for.

A DVD in a transparent case.

Banshee frowned.

«That's a strange explosive.» she observed.

«Your sharp mind is a source of endless wonder. Here. Just so you don't complain I'm always rude with you. You came to look for my Enforcer to have intel, even if I specifically asked you not to? Very well, here's the intel. Enjoy.»

He threw the CD on Banshee's bed, and as she startled, expecting the thing to do something, he exploited her moment of distraction too.

Banshee put the gun where it belonged, and took up the DVD, looking at it suspiciously. It looked like a normal burnt cd, with no writings on it whatsoever. Like Chico porn's DVDs.

Then, she marched towards the living room, any trace of sleep long gone. Chico had, apparently, had fallen asleep on the couch, so to better keep control of the house.

She sat straight on Chico's back and turned on DVD player and TV. He moaned softly and tiredly.

«Lo qué carajo Banshee? It's, like, too early o'clock.» he protested.

«Staccato appeared on me window and left me a DVD.» she summarized.

«Am I supposed to be intrigued?»

«No, yer just softer than the sofa.»

She crept off Chico's chest, and they both sat, side by side, in front of the tv, waiting for the DVD to start.

The scene started in what looked like a very old and bad direct take in a small, half-dark, grey room. There was only one light, coming from right above. The angle of the camera framed part of a grey metal table and, right behind it, the young face of a man. He couldn't have been more than nineteen, maybe twenty. He had big grey eyes, tired and with dark circles under them, and a mop of red hair ruffled over a high forehead. A short unshaven beard decorated his square jaw, and he looked extremely sad and resigned. Behind him there was a two-way mirror that reflected the face of a fifty-something man, sitting down and adjusting his chair in front of him, with an intense look in his eyes. The scene was muted by a violin music background.

«Oy, que pasa?» asked Chico, worried for the brusque change in Banshee's attitude.

He could see her suddenly pale. As if every drop of blood left her face in one fell swoop, leaving nothing but her freckles to color her cadaveric complexion. Her eyes were wide open, so open that any trace of sleep had abruptly gone, her pupils so tiny they were almost invisible, leaving just the empty stare of her crystal grey eyes. Her hands were trembling violently, and her teeth were clenched hard as if she was having a panic attack.

He looked at the screen, but for the love of everything, he couldn't understand what could have shocked her that much.

The violin music suddenly stopped and the instant it stopped, Banshee finally focused on what it was.

"The Parting Glass" played by Daìthi Collins.

The audio of the video came back. Ambiental noise, the fifty-something man blowing his nose. The soft, nervous tapping of the young boy's foot against the floor, the clinking of his cuffs.

«'Tis all right, son. Ye just tell us ever'thing, and we'll take care o' the rest.» the man said, in a thick, Irish accent that put Banshee's to shame.

Then the boy opened his mouth.

«You have to find her! She's in danger! She...» he managed to say before Banshee screamed and forcibly ejected the DVD. She retrieved it and close herself in her room again, slamming the door.

Chico looked at the now black tv. Then at the closed door.

He shrugged and fell back asleep on the couch.

***

Hi guys! So, I'm trying this thing that is to try and find more music to let you enjoy narration more. Music was a great help for me during the writing part of this work and has great importance at a story level (many songs are quoted, especially in the titles). So, expect more "music interloping" and you really shall listen while you read, if you can.
Or at any rate, listen after. These are amazing authors, especially wonderful Brooke Stewart whose violin broke my heart more than once.

Also, I know these last parts have been longer than usual, but I feel you could follow better with fewer interruptions, even if it means to read a slightly longer chapter. Please, do let me know if you'd prefer shorter ones!

So, thank you for reading, as always, and vote and comment to your heart's content!

Love, Daniel.