20 January 2011
10pm
The new Black Chimaera


It only took a few days for Nate to track down 'Lucy' now he knew who she was, Lorelei Hunt. He'd been  careful shopping around the name in case Bagnold wasn't exaggerating, that she was very wanted by the Ministry.[1] Asking after someone with that status would only serve to draw unwanted suspicions. But he knew one thing: she was connected to Cinead Tawse. He'd been 'friendly' enough that night at Grimshaw's.[2] This posed a problem. Nate's connection with Tawse was somewhat less friendly, despite Tawse's show of largesse and forgiveness. Nate had ended up in Azkaban in the course of paying a debt to the infamous ex-Azzie. Not easy to forget. Down to it, Nate had to show his face at the Black Chimaera.

Great. Really lovely.

If he was going to show up at the Black Chimaera, he wasn't going to try and hide it. No cloaks or heavy hoods or Polyjuice Potions. He did keep his wand handy in his sleeve. As he arrived, he had to turn off part of his brain that catered to decency. Hidden away, the new Black Chimaera had no reason to put on the airs of legitimacy.

Once inside, he began to wend through the crowd looking for the half-dead half-witch and the tall frame that hung on the fragile edge of sanity. Someone bumped into him, a witch with long black and green hair, sick eyes, and a twitching smile bumped him.[3]

She stared at him as if demanding an explanation of someone she'd never seen here before.

Nate said answered. "Where's Hunt?"

This seemed to amuse the witch who laughed, showing her yellowing teeth, then she shoved him onward. "You're lucky, rat. She's here."

And she was.

1.	18 Jan 2011 - Frying Pans Prefer the Fire
2.	11 Nov 2011 - Sane, Sane, We're All Insane
3.	Vesta Baddrick

It was 2012 and Lorelei was alive and well, all things considered. Over the holidays, she'd murdered one person - the legilimens who had brought Leander back from the shocked stupor that the dementors had caused. He still moped around the cottage, but he moped with a dawning sense of awareness and purpose. She had her brother back. Her best ally.

She'd found some allies at the Black Chimaera as well, and she'd managed not to murder them so far, keeping her violent urges in check as she moved through the crowd and towards the counter of the pub.

Thanks to her regular sips of unicorn blood, her red hair shone, her face had some color, and her eyes sparkled. Yet the mask slipped from time to time. Her features would twitch, or her voice would change, revealing the pentral that rippled beneath her skin.

This pentral was troublesome, constantly fighting her and wrestling for control, even with her regular dose of unicorn blood. She would have replaced it, but the strength of its will intrigued her. When she wasn't stalking her favorite Reids and McBoids, or assisting Cin or tutoring Aviad or vexing Vesta, she'd been experimenting with potions to further control the pentral.

She flipped a coin in the air, catching the attention of one of the bartenders who dabbled in crafting rare elixirs. After stepping into the back room, she left with one pocket lighter and the other clinking with two thin vials she hadn't yet tried.

Hunt. Her last name cut through the crowd. Lorelei paused behind the bar, then slid a drink meant for someone else along the counter, moving closer to the pair of voices. There was Vesta, who actually enjoyed mucking about in the grime of the criminal underworld, who made no effort to hide any part of who she was, baring her yellowed teeth and chucking discretion to the wind. At another time, Lore might have taken issue with the witch so easily giving her away.

But it was just Hermes looking for her. Hermes who had learned her full name. He'd missed her, clearly.

Her hand cradling the drink, Lorelei leaned over the counter and tapped him on the shoulder. He wore no cloak, no robe, no mystery! Just long sleeves and little worry lines on his face.

"What are you hiding in those sleeves, Hermes. A message, a gift? Better make it nice. You've come all this way."

Her voice wavered between warning and delight. A new-old face! Hermes liked to think that he kept one foot planted on the cobblestones of civility and the other in the muck with Vesta. It's not very nice, he'd complain, trying to shake off the shit he'd willingly stepped into.

He stood in it with both feet now.

It took two looks to recognize the witch he'd met in the tailor shop. It looked like Lucy had traveled through time, back to a day when she wasn't yet decaying. He made a rapid correlation between her sudden revival and the unicorn blood but he couldn't think of what application of the stoutly magical substance would cause this. Funny that - she looked better than ever and it unsettled him. The devils come in nice packages, that's what the stories said.

"I need to talk to you," he said tightly. "Not here."

He didn't like how cheery she looked but maybe it was better to go along with that. Accusations wouldn't get him far, probably. If he could pose this as a mutual problem, maybe she wouldn't try to kill him.

"You'll thank me," he said a little more sweetly. Then he jerked his head towards the tight corridor that lead to the back. They could find a shadow where they'd be undisturbed and unseen.

"Will I."

When did she ever thank anyone? Lorelei remained behind the bar and downed the drink in her hand. The Grimlen, one of the pub's specialties. Grimlen. Grimshaw's, the shoddy shop where they'd first met months ago, when she'd felt as wary and paranoid as Hermes looked now.

He knew her name. Someone at the pub must know his. Lorelei hoped, for his sake, that he wasn't gifting her with the knowledge of something she already knew.

In the past, she'd taken careful steps to keep herself and Leander safe. She hadn't used her own name. She hadn't used pentrals that were troublesome. She hadn't experimented with potions the way her mother had. She hadn't made friends with criminals the way her father had. And what had she gotten for it? Everything she'd built so carefully had all burnt down. She'd lost the squibs. She'd lost the pentrals. She'd lost the illusion of riches, the sense of home.

Lorelei set the glass down. The loss of it, the rage at losing it all, still rose up frequently, seeking an outlet. Still, she'd gained a fresh perspective.

She crooked her finger at Hermes, leading the way through the pub and into the hall. She stepped over a knotted, gnarled root towards one of the side rooms.

Lorelei let him inside first, and stood in the doorway. The room had no windows. A jar rattled on a shelf behind him.

She smiled with her mouth. Her eyes sparkled.

"Talk."

He had her attention, at the least. Hunt, more familiar with the new location, led the way to a private room. As much as Nate didn't want to be overheard, closed in a room alone with Lorelei Hunt hadn't been his plan. Once inside, she took the advantageous position, so Nate posted up in the middle. He lit a lamp with his wand both for a bit of light but also to have an excuse to have his wand in his folded arms.

"Someone leaked our deal." There'd been only one. Nate had stolen Ministry unicorn blood and sold it to Hunt who he'd only known as Lucy. Nate's return to thieving had been under the name Hermes. There's no way anyone could have known the details, not even Cinead Tawse who'd only sauntered in after all was done.

"And they're threatening to take it to the Ministry," he added with a shrug, a shrug, like a nervous laugh.

"They know your name. They know my name. They know the amount. Could know the object as far as I can tell," he continued under Hunts's creepy gaze

It was information no one should have been able to find out about it, not unless it was from either one of them.

"Who'd you tell, Hunt?"

Wand in hand, nervous laughter, and oh no - accusation!

"Calm down," Lorelei snapped, her tall frame filling the doorway, her eyes flashing impatience.

A second later, she let the tension go. She rested her shoulder against the door jamb, and angled her hip so the cloak she wore fell over her in soft folds.

Her expression calmed. Everything had a solution. Everything had an answer. Problems like these could be solved with hard work and iron will and la dee da, she'd learned something during her short time at Hogwarts.

"First thing, Hermes." She held up a finger. Her eyes sparkled, her mouth smiled slightly again. Not too much. She didn't want to unnerve him too much. Just to let him know that the light he shone was small.

"I don't talk. You talk. You brought this to me. You know who knows your name and mine."

What was in a name? Months ago this would have bothered her. Months ago she would have felt threatened, the world on her shoulders and Leander still ill. Now? The Ministry must know her by now. Level Two would have questioned Abby's pentral, Iona McBoid, before sending her off beyond the veil.

If Hermes were telling the truth, someone had threatened to turn them in. A threat meant they wanted something.

"Does it look like I've been talking to anyone friendly with the Ministry?" She gestured down the hall. "You, on the other hand," she looked him up and down. "This wasn't your first theft. Someone approached you who cares what you've been up to."

She looked him in the eye and held his gaze. Hermes knew what she wanted to know.

"I don't talk. You talk."

Nate was taken aback for a second; he had no idea how she knew that, how she'd attached him to his very unwanted reputation of having flipped on Sellaphix. And there was only one person who knew he'd revealed the location of the Muhra Glass and who'd hired him to take it. No. She didn't know. Without his name, she couldn't know. He was misunderstanding her.

But he did not misunderstand her implication. She wanted the third name. The name of the hot head who was threatening to out him, drag him in, keep him looking over his shoulder indefinitely.

"Oh, yea," Nate said sarcastically, "he's my best mate, cares for me. Always checking up on me, how's your weekend."

Last month Bagnold had made it his new hobby to make his life shit and Nate was getting sick of it. The stakes were too high.

"His name's Bagnold," he said. "He's a werewolf hunter. But he didn't find out from me. He said some bloody werewolf told him, told him he saw us which is bullshit."[1]

Nate hissed his next words. "I'm off an Azkaban rap, Hunt, and I'm not going back. So who'd you tell? How'd Bagnold find out?"

The tricky part was, Bagnold had been informed twice. If he'd had the information about the galleons and Hunt's name in December, he'd have said then. No, someone was running their mouth.

1.	Kurby lied...! 14 Dec 2012 - Cracking Skulls

Hermes was spinning a strange tale, offering strange and specific details. If he were a touch vaguer or a touch more specific, she might have suspected him of lying. Leading her into a trap. Had someone at Grimshaw's really seen them? Or had someone in the nest of criminals here betrayed her?

-someone betrayed you, her pentral echoed in a hiss. Lorelei gave a jerky shrug of her shoulder, shaking it off.

Focus. Only one person she knew of had spotted them at Grimshaw's, and Lorelei wasn't about to suspect Tawse. She'd told no one about the unicorn blood. She'd told no one the cost. The squirrelly ex-Azzie was still demanding answers as if he had a right. Her lip curled. She regarded him coldly for a long moment, then turned her head away.

"Bagnold the werewolf hunter," she mused, leaning her back against the door frame and propping a foot up against the other side, her hands comfortable in her pockets.

She'd heard of him. The Ministry bulldog who had stabbed Tawse during the Cold Moon ambush. She respected his fire, in much the same way she respected Duncan's and wished to put it out someday. Strong, miserable McBoids were fun to break. Bagnolds too?

"What did he want from you, in exchange for his supposed silence?"

Lorelei fixed her gaze on Hermes again. Keep talking.

Nate Briggs had always been well-suited living at the fringes of society, associating with the unhinged and untrustworthy. And while he wasn't as savage as many, and while he had a string of bad luck the last few years, he'd never considered going straight. Tonight was no exception, even staring down the unsettling half-dead swamp witch in front of him, leaning in the doorway like a young widowed heiress in a lonely manor house. He could handle her. As long as nothing exploded, they'd find some kind of equilibrium. Kurby Bagnold wasn't making it easier.

Nate crossed his arms again, irritated the conversation was still out of balance. He hadn't come here to warn Hunt, he'd come to find out what happened.

"Nah, I showed you mine," Nate said wrinkling his nose. "Who knows about your side of the deal?"

Bagnold was erratic and unpredictable. When he'd crack was anyone's guess. As much as the opposite was true, Nate could move in circles Bagnold couldn't which was an opportunity to gain some ground. Neutralize Bagnold, then stop the leak.

Oh no, that was a third time he'd questioned her. A third time. She'd done him a favor by answering the first time, a favor by ignoring him the second time, but now she let her foot slide down the door frame and turned to face him directly, stepping into his space.

"You do, Hermes."

Hermes the messenger, the talker, the walker between worlds. She wished he'd try something stupid-

-show some spine, the pentral echoed.

If only to relieve her boredom!

"Only you."

The corners of her mouth lifted, then fell just as quickly, her eyes boring into him.

Hunt swept up to him and Nate's heart went ice cold. It was a different kind of dread than the churning guts of dealing with Tawse or the grinding contempt whenever he ran into Bagnold. It was new and some part of his magical core suddenly understood that truly, Lorelei Hunt was ruined. She wasn't worried. If she was angry about anything tonight, it was him, not that someone was leaking their business around town or that someone was threatening to out them.

This was why he kept this shit locked down. He'd taken every precaution. But something had gone wrong. It wasn't him, and he knew now Hunt wasn't the source. It did little to ease his fear.

He lifted his wand up between them.

"This wasn't me," he said with a deceptive sweetness, his snide arrogance his first and best reaction to stress.

"I didn't have tell you anything, did I?"

Her gaze flicked down to his wand brandished between them, then settled on his face again.

He'd come to her with a shitty story and accusations. He'd found her, questioned her, doubted her, as if he had a right. She didn't like his face right now. She didn't like his worried little eyes. Give her fear, give her hate, give her laughter, but this? His face was so bland, so empty, it was like looking into a mirror.

She reached up, her eyes on his face. Her hand hovered close to his wand.

"But."

Lorelei knocked the wand lightly to the side.

"You."

Knock.

"Did."

Knock.

He'd told her something, and might have told Bagnold something, too. Bagnold was Ministry, and had already attacked Tawse and Aviad. Did he think she'd forget that?

"You're here, and you've not finished your story. You're wasting time asking me the same question, over and over. That doesn't make me happy, Hermes," she ended on a tone of deep disappointment.

She turned away and paced the small room, her hands drifting back to her pockets. She looked up at the ceiling, where cobwebs draped a canopy above their heads.

He shouldn't have come here. He shouldn't have gone to find the kind of lunatic who'd want that much unicorn blood, and certainly not after meeting her, seeing through her like some kind of shambling phantom, and taking in how she interacted with Cinead Tawse. She erratic and even now he had no idea what to expect from her. She hadn't made a lick of sense since they'd walked in here, and now she was pacing like some kind of be-hexed manticore.

"I don't care if you're happy, Hunt," he said, keeping his nerve. There was something perverse about touching another's wand, but he tried like hell not to take the bait and curse her face inside out.

"This is has been a public information film. Someone knows more than they should. There's a leak. So watch your back."

With that, he gave a flippant little salute and made for the door. The Black Chimaera wasn't a place you assumed you could Apparate from and he didn't fancy risking a splinching. He'd tried with her. He'd come to get to the bottom of this, but the consolation prize should have been tipping her off so she wouldn't be surprised and give anything up should they find her. Despite his best efforts, however, he didn't feel confident he'd established an alliance of mutually assured destruction. That arrangement didn't work when one party had more to loose.

As he began to leave, he was comforted by a twinge of satisfaction. Merlin help Bagnold if he crossed Lorelei Hunt. If Bagnold was good at anything, it was escalating and something told Nate that Bagnold would even more ill-equipped to manage this batty necromancer than he was.

His dismissal sank in. Hermes walked past her, towards the door, giving her a cheerful little salute.

Lorelei turned, staring at his back. She was wanted for much worse things than what he'd sold to her. She'd given him the chance to tell her the rest of the story.

Now he was leaving with her name on his tongue.

He couldn't accuse her and then pretend like he hadn't. He couldn't tell her half truths and then walk out the same as he'd arrived. He hadn't brought her a gift. He hadn't entertained her. He hadn't made promises to fix it, or done anything he was supposed to do.

Lorelei followed him into the hallway, watching him walk towards the main pub.

Would he forget to step over the gnarled, twisted root jutting up from the floorboards at the end of the hall?

She wouldn't count on it.

Her eyes flashing, she waved her wand and sent a jet of white after him, the same color as the cobwebs she'd looked up at moments ago.

From the walls and from the ceiling, skeletal hands sprouted, reaching for his arms and his ankles. The hands attempted to hoist him up, swinging him back and forth with every swish of her wand.

It was untenable to be as disconnected as Nathan Briggs was. He was arrogant, untrusting, and adverse to tangling his fates. His life was his, freedom was paramount. The downside was an utter lack of allies. He didn't need friends he didn't need lovers, he wasn't obsessed with even being liked, but a partner would be bloody damn useful at the moment. The moment when he tripped in the hallway. Something snagged his trouser leg, then something snagged it again. He braced hiimself against the wall, and then someone grabbed his arm.

"Damn -!" he began and turned expecting to see one of Black Chimaera's patrons on his tail, but the truth was more upsetting. Skeletal hands dragged him backward towards the door, jerking him back and forth. Hunt and her wand puppetted the grasping bones. Like a good little wizard, Nate had held onto his wand - that was always rule one in dueling class: don't drop your wand.

"Reducto!" Nate cast the Blasting Curse with a bludgeoning aim, a good effort considering he had no footing of his own and was, at the time of casting, at a thirty degree angle from the floor. Then he turned his wand on the ceiling for a second spell.