The Wyvern Street Irregulars

"Wyvern Street," the Wizard ordered as he entered the taxi amid a heavy flurry of rain and wind.

Most taxi drivers in Halifax would look askance at a passenger who asked to be taken to Wyvern Street. But this particular driver was an old friend. He was also an up to date friend, in that he knew where to find Wyvern Street today. Some, possibly even many, old friends of the Wizard might well not be aware of its present location.

"Are we in a hurry?" the driver asked.

"No hurry. Are you free to join us for the evening?"

The driver smiled. "If you wish it, certainly."

The taxi made its way north along Gottingen Street. Traffic was light, mostly taxis at this time of night. The streetlight ahead was green, but the taxi slowed anyway as they passed Alexandra House. The Wizard was watching for some signal there, it seemed. Possibly the young man in the bus shelter? Or something else? The driver did not try to guess; he drove carefully, both hands on the wheel, alert. Beyond the lights the taxi resumed a more normal speed.

"Big turnout at Blue Moon?" the driver asked as they passed the (green again) lights at North Street.

"So-so," the Wizard replied. "I saw those I needed to see, and a few I had not seen for months. Quite a few of your group were there."

The driver smiled, but his eyes did not stray from their driving discipline. "I expected that. Though I dare say a few of them went to the Seahorse instead... or as well."

"There were a few of them getting coated up to head down there as I left", the Wizard replied. "Nasty weather to be walking back and forth."

They passed the rest of the trip in silence. Today's Wyvern Street was not far; north of the old bridge but south of the new. West of Agricola but east of Oxford. So it was not long before the taxi was parked in the garage and Wizard, driver and half a dozen cats were cosy in the kitchen of the back apartment, wards set.

"Coffee?" the Wizard offered. "We can fortify it, this is not expected to be a working meet."

The disciplined work of driving and ward-setting done, the driver's smile now was brighter, his face more animated. "Irish for me then." He leaned back in his chair, relaxed, watching the Wizard putter about with the coffee machine, the expresso machine, the whipping of cream (some for the cats too, of course) and setting up, it seemed, for at least another six people. His timing was right on: he plunked an irish coffee and a spanish coffee on the table just as tires crunched the gravel of the driveway and the minute hand of the clock joined the hour hand at XII.

"That should be them now," the Wizard smiled. Bottles of Irish Cream and Amaretto joined the whiskey, brandy and Contreau on the table. Soon enough a half dozen people piled in from the back cloakroom: Marie and Marny, Debbie and John, Robert and their new lad, whom the driver had not yet met.

"Maurice!" Marie exclaimed, beaming at the driver, even as she came in the door.

Nodding, he rose for the obligatory hug. Then "this must be the new chap," he suggested.

Marie nodded and made introductions. "Terry, Maurice; Maurice, Terry."

They shook hands, sizing each other up. But not for long, because a full round of hugs was in order while the Wizard set up everyone's drinks. Irish for the new lad, as it turned out. Then it was the Wizard's turn for a round of hugs, Maurice handing each their drink as the Wizard moved on from one hug to another.

Finally, everyone equipped with hot fortified coffee and the Wizard following with the dessert cart, they moved on into the west study, whose fire was burning brightly now having been lit in the course of the setting of the wards. This was a large rectangular room, running half the depth of the building north-south and about a third of its width east-west. The fireplace in the north wall was set but not lit; the lit fire was in the south. Deep blue velvet drapes concealed the west wall's three windows, embroidered with wave motifs. The east wall, all the way from the door they had entered by in its north end to the workroom door in its south end, was a wall of bookshelves. Marie and Marny spent some time pointing out some of its highlights to Terry while the others got settled around the fire, as this was his first time at Wyvern Street. The Wizard hovered, watching Terry's expressions and reactions carefully but not interfering with Marie and Marny's choices of which books to draw particular attention to. The perusing of the books took a while, which gave Maurice time to do some catching up with John, Debbie and Robert, whom he had not seen since Lammas.

With the possible exception of the Wizard, Maurice was the oldest person in the room, by probably at least ten or fifteen years; though to most observers he seldom looked much older than Marny. Like the Wizard, whose true age even Maurice was not sure of, the others, with the exception of the Wizard, were not sure how old Maurice really was. Possibly because of his long-standing association with the Wizard, whom he had known longer than any of the others present, he was generally accorded the privilege of the same mystique in regard to age as the Wizard. If one were to judge purely by appearances though, tonight the Wizard might even appear to some as younger than Maurice and Marny; perhaps about of an age with Marie. The rest were all pretty clearly younger than Marie. Even 'the new chap', Terry, had already started to aquire a touch of the 'wiser than their years' aspect that tends to 'come with the territory' in the kind of work that brought them together this night.

As Terry, Marie and Marny drifted from the south end of the bookshelves to their waiting chairs by the fire, the Wizard turned to Maurice. "Your usual room awaits if you too would like to stay overnight or longer - it is already planned that the others will be staying."

"Time for refills then!" Maurice replied with a broad smile.

Debbie took that as her cue. "We'll take care of that," she smiled, caught John's eye, and the pair of them headed kitchenward, with waves of demurral to Robert and Terry almost before they could offer to help.

Some eyebrow thing happened between the Wizard and Marie by which it became apparent to everyone that Debbie and John had already been given enough information about tonight's business that bringing the others up to speed could take place in their absence.

"Alright then," said the Wizard, "recap for us."

Marny passed a packet wrapped in white silk to Marie, who unwrapped from it a deck of cards. She looked toward the Wizard. "This is what we drew for whether to consult you." She dealt a Trump: The Magician. "That seemed to hint that we should." She looked toward Maurice. "We did consult him; and among other things he asked us to draw a card indicating whether he might best bring in one or more of his associates in particular. We drew this." She dealt another trump: The Chariot.

Maurice smiled, making an "oh well then what can I say" kind of handwaving-shrug. They were all long accustomed to the kind of in your face obviousness the cards were prone to when Marie and Marny worked them together.

Marie smiled, and turned toward Robert and Terry. "That is just window-dressing, of course," she told them. "Don't let anyone get away with such sleight of hand! Obviously there was a lot more involved than just drawing a couple of cards! Maurice and the Wizard work in other traditions than ours, and their primary association involves lines of work that most Wiccans need not concern themselves with very often. Sometimes because of people like Maurice and the Wizard."

Terry nodded, in what he hoped looked like a sage manner. Robert, who had worked with Maurice and the Wizard before, merely smiled a brief, wry smile. Debbie and John wheeled in the dessert trolley's twin, loaded with the makings of fortified coffee. Robert noticed that they had either topped up their own drinks while they were in the kitchen or, like Marie, Marny and the Wizard, they had not been drinking nearly as fast as he, Terry and Maurice. He resolved to slow down a little, knowing from times past that trying to keep up with Maurice was not a wise idea.

"The short of it," said Marie, is that we do not know what, if anything, is wrong or might be wrong, but have a strong sense that some kind of thorough search for anything that is wrong should be attempted. Maybe someone is working to conceal something from us. Maybe we are just paranoid. But we have not been able to convince ourselves that nothing is wrong, so we want someone else to help figure out what it is that is bothering us."

Maurice shot a querying glance at the Wizard, who shrugged. "Maybe it did come here. We expected it to show up somewhere, why not here?"

Maurice, too, shrugged. "Indeed, why not?" Then to Marie: "If someone or something travelled here from elsewhere to begin this, about when do you think that whoever or whatever it was that did so might have arrived here?"

Marie's turn to shrug. Marny's, too. Marie fought back tears. "Maybe this is part of why it bothers me so much," she said. "We keep coming back to the idea that it started with the school year... which triggers worries that children might be involved, which worry might itself be why we keep coming back to the idea that it started with the school year..." she shrugged again. "We tend to loop on that, which is a lot of why we wanted to consult others..."

Debbie and John were still, quiet, obviously working on vibe control. Quite effectively actually; it was neuro-linguistic programming more than vibe that had Robert and Terry's right hands both gripping, white-knuckled, the handles of their athames.

The wizard's little finger might have moved, or was it just that one of the cats suddenly glanced at it? Whichever: the moment passed.

Marie and Marny almost looked, for a moment, as if they might have forgotten what they had been saying a moment ago; Robert and Terry's right hands moved to wave at the cat, athames forgotten. Debbie and John smiled. Maurice's right hand slipped into his jacket pocket and brought out a small, sheathed, cross-hilted knife of his own. He motioned with it toward Marie and Marny with a gesture that would look strikingly familiar to any fan of classic hollywood vampire movies, and addressed them in strong, stern tones. "I tell you true: it is no longer your concern."

Returning the knife to his pocket he addressed Debbie and John. "You two, on the other hand, I would like to have a little chat with sometime soon." He smiled. Did the Wizard's little finger move again? Whatever: the cat lost Robert and Terry's attention. They looked around. Debbie offered everyone cookies. John turned on the stereo at low volume: some string confection by Mozart.

Marny rewrapped the deck of cards and tucked them back into his beltpouch, nodded to Maurice, queried Marie with his eyes. "Its off to bed for us, then. Good night all, Happy Samhain, Happy New Year, thanks for all the fish, and so on and so forth." He managed an actual smile. So did Marie. John turned the music up a little as they left through the north-east door.

After a bit of reshuffling of seats to close the gap left by the departure of Marie and Marny, and a bit of drink-replenishing and dessert-selecting, they were ready to continue.

John caught Maurice's eye. "So."

Maurice looked Debbie and John over slowly, thoughtfully, his right hand in his jacket pocket, presumably holding his cross-hilted knife. He hit Debbie with a question fast, trying for a snappy response. "Are their kids in danger?"

Debbie looked surprised. "Theirs? Uh, I never thought so. Should I think so?"

"Thats the answer I was hoping for. Okay, that should save some plane tickets. Whose kids are?"

She tried, but the question clearly baffled or boggled her or both. Eventually she asked "do we know that any are in danger at all?"

Maurice glanced at the Wizard, who replied for him. "That we will try to find out tomorrow. Appearances notwithstanding, this is, after all, not a working session," he smiled. "Hot chocolate, anyone?"

More bustling around the coffee trolley, which, it turned out, also doubled as a hot chocolate trolley. The Wizard put a few more logs on the fire. He and Maurice both knew what they ought to mention next, but the question was: how exactly to bring it up?

Debbie watched them both very carefully. After a while she thought she had an idea what they were probably thinking about. "Robert, Terry... you have worked with John and I as acting High Priestess and High Priest before, are you okay with the idea of doing that for a while?"

Both nodded. No problem there.

She smiled, consulted the Wizard and Maurice with a glance, saw what she expected. "I didn't think so. But do you remember when the cat distracted you?"

Again they both nodded.

"What were your hands doing just before that distraction, and, more importantly, why?"

They looked troubled. Looked at each other. Flexed their hands, summoning memories. Reached for their athames. Nodded at each other. They remembered.

"Marie was hurting," said Robert.

"And that hurt," added Terry.

John flinched. He imagined how he'd've felt had it been Debbie. But it hadn't been. Debbie had been fine. And come to think of it even if it had been Debbie but Marie had been okay Marie would've steadied him. He began to see where this was probably going. "Of course it did," he said. He looked at Robert. "But Susan was okay, wasn't she? She is back home babysitting. No disasters back at the covenstead?"

Robert looked a little embarrassed. "Uh, well, yeah. But she wasn't here."

"Whereas Marie always is?"

Robert's eyebrows raised. "You're right. Of course. The Goddess is always with us."

The Wizard, Maurice, Debbie and John all smiled at once. Terry looked puzzled momentarily, then his face lit up as he caught on. "Good thinking," he confirmed. He looked upwards thoughtfully. "Do you think they know?"

Debbie smiled. "Do you think they know?"

"Yes, they know," said Marny from the north-east door. "Marie just sent me down here to tell you in case you hadn't figured it out for yourselves."

Debbie looked a question at the Wizard.

"Of course, email them right away. They can be here by noon," he replied.

She rushed out the north-east door, headed for the east study: the datacentre, where most of the Wizard's computer and internet equipment lived.