Witch Hunt [IC]

[trollthumper]

Eric LaCroix had just gotten home from a day at the Black Petal, and wanted to take advantage of his time without the makeup on. While he set some pot stickers to simmer on the stove, he clicked onto the Internet and checked out a few of his forums. In addition to the usual stuff on music and tattoos, there were a few forums he visited dedicated to pagans, practitioners, and other aspiring occultists. A lot of it was mostly discussion and ritual, but every so often, there was a real kindred spirit who'd found something. In his mind, the world was a strange place, and it helped to know strangers.

Between threads on proper pronunciation on Enochian and whether Erzulie Freda would be pissed off by an offering of store-bought sheet cake, something caught Eric's eye. "Expert Needed; Things Getting Weird." "Well, how can I resist something like that..." He clicked the link; the post had been left by a "BadbLady," and read thus:

Hey, all. Things are getting weird down here, and I just need to vent. I don't know if anyone can help, but if you know your butt from your elbow with regard to the weird and a few free days, we could probably use the help.

I live in Stratford, Pennsylvania. It's not a bad town, but it's a bit old-fashioned. No one really knows the ways here; it leans evangelical, not exactly fundamentalist, but people here are still suspicious about anything that's not in the Bible. Two weeks back, something happened. One of the local high school kids was found dead in the woods; his dad was an alderman, so the Sheriff's office is on the case. And... things were done to his body. The office isn't releasing details, but there have been whispers of "Satanic stuff."

They say the office is bringing in an "occult expert"... but I'm afraid. I've heard of cases where they bring in crackpots who point at everything from Goths to Wicca to Harry Potter as evidence of the evil in our midst. Some of the scene kids and pagans who visit my hangout are getting worried; no one wants another West Memphis Three here. I'd volunteer my services, but I'm a bit "in the broom closet" myself and besides... I don't exactly have the pedigree. If anyone in the area actually knows what they're talking about and wants to lend a hand, you'd have the thanks of a lot of people out here.

Eric looked over the e-mail while his pot stickers went unnoticed in the background. He read it back once more, and turned the idea over in his head. "Well," he said, "I do have a lot of vacation days saved up..."

[KnightDisciple]

It had been a long day for Carson. He'd spent extra time at the College, helping a few students with some troublesome assignments, while trying to make sure he didn't do all their work for them. A delicate balance, to be sure. Then, he'd spent a couple hours with one of his tougher mentoring cases. He felt almost hopeless; this kid really fit the type who "didn't want to be helped". He was worried sick about the boy, with no ideas on what to do.

So when he turned on the news, and the first thing he saw was about a "ritualistic killing" in Stratford, Pennsylvania, where the local police were calling in "experts" that even the CNN reporters were dubious about, it really didn't help his mood. He heaved a sigh as he cast his gaze heavenward.

"I get the message. But could I get a couple of utterly boring weeks after this? I have a feeling already this one's going to be bad."

He returned his attention to the television, trying to draw in all the details of the situation. He needed to be prepared when he flew into the town. On the upside, he ought to be able to take some time off. Might even be good for his work with Billy; fresh perspective from time away never hurt anything.

[Quinn]

A quiet day at the refurbished L.A.I.R, and Quinn had just come out from under a rustbucket of a Chevy. Unfortunately for the owner, there was a crack in the engine block about the size of the San Andreas. Fortunately for his fledgling buisness and his bank account, that would mean a complete rehaul, imported parts...oh yeah, he could live off this baby for a few months if he played his cards right. Walking down the staircase to the basement, he mentally tallied the bill as well as the parts he'd need to pick up. Maybe he could shave a few bucks off by salvaging them from the local junkyards too...

He stepped into the living area off the mechanic's pit, wiping his oily hands off with a rag, as he tapped his commlink. Music switched on from a stereo sitting beside a small TV, cool jazz from a band he'd been fond of back in Gear City; Mike had mailed him their latest CD as a Christmas present, along with a few shiny new toys he'd been meaning to try on his next patrol. Meandering to the kitchen, he flipped open his fridge and took out a week-old slice of leftover diner apple pie and a glass of milk before walking back and flopping into his favorite seat to munch. The pie was less than an inch from his mouth before the phone beside the chair let off an earsplitting ring, and he nearly dropped the slice in surprise. Cursing fluidly, he put the plate down beside the phone and picked it up;

"Lazarus Auto and Industrial Repair, resurrections done cheap. Can I help you?"

The voice on the other end was familiar, low and gravelly, Push could almost hear the pipe clamped between the man's teeth.

"Got a commission for you. Mister Black says that Mister Webster's got a vehicle in Stratford, Pennsylvania that needs looking at. Got time?"

Push nodded, even though the man on the other side couldn't see him, reaching over and downing the milk in haste.

"For Mister Webster? Always. I'm on my way."

"Good. Mister Black says you probably won't be the only repairman there. As far as they know, you're helping Mister Webster by yourself. The vehicle specs are in your mailbox. Enjoy your trip."

The line cut out to a dial tone, and Quinn made a face at the phone before hanging up. Quickly throwing the pie back into the fridge and switching the sign upstairs from OPEN to CLOSED, he locked the shop up. He then took a brown envelope from the mailbox and slid it into his bag, swinging it over his shoulder before tearing off hell for leather on Lazarus, the GPS set for Stratford, Pennsylvania. No rest for the wicked...

[GranspearZX]

Marcus was certain that he as going to be in a lot of trouble.

Skipping school was a pretty rebellious thing to do. Under normal circumstances, he never would have done such a thing. One thing he had learned when starting to embrace his magical heritage, however, was that signs were not to be ignored. Even though he was new to meditating, he'd been in his dorm room for hours before the television flickered on of its own volition. It was on the news, and the volume was uncomfortably loud. At first, the young hedge wizard thought that it might have been someone with some sort of electrical powers wandering down the hall; he never really watched the news, so he knew that wasn't the channel on which he'd left the television when he turned it off. He got up and poked his head out into the hallway, seeing no one... and then he tried to turn it off.

Nothing.

The best he could do was lower the volume, but by then, he was paying attention to the story. It was a high profile murder in a relatively small place, and they were throwing around words like 'ritualistic' and 'Satan'. Usually, Marcus would have tuned that sort of thing out--the media had a way of overblowing things for the sake of doing so. This, however, seemed different... and a familiar, uncomfortable feeling settled over him, not entirely like his accidental run-in with the Boogeyman a month before. It was a sign, alright... and a none too subtle one at that.

Surely, his teachers would understand... he hoped. Bus ticket in hand, he had already made up his mind. Stratford, Pennsylvania was waiting.

[Ecalsneerg]

Siobhan loaded the last of the occult gear into the trunk of her battered-to-hell old car. Getting the broomstick in on top of the cauldron had been an effort, but she'd managed, although she'd run out of room in the tiny space and had to dump her handful of books and assorted precious stones into the cauldron.

She tucked her pentacle underneath her baggy sweater, tucking her wand into the band of her jeans. She didn't think going in fully decked out in her usual load-out would go down well in a town where Harry Potter was seen as evil, when all it was guilty of was steadily decreasing writing quality. Come prepared, don't be too obvious about it.

The engine spluttering painfully to life, Siobhan began the long drive up to Pennsylvania, praying the car didn't explode halfway there.

[trollthumper]

It felt strange taking the bus. Last time Eric had come back to Freedom, he'd driven the Pale Horse up the highway at night, telling his folks he'd taken a Greyhound back. But blowing into a small town in a black car covered in veves was probably the least subtle thing he could do short of bringing along a zombie butler for the ride. He passed his time with the latest Social Distortion album on his iPod and some fantasy paperback he'd picked up in a bus stop bookstore because it had necromancy in it. Resurrecting a T. rex? Guess this guy never heard about that incident at La Brea...

The bus pulled into the stop, and Eric disembarked. He still had a few hours until he had to check in at the local Motel 6, so it would probably be a good idea to get a better understanding of what was going on. He took a look at a map he'd printed off of Google, and found his way to the sheriff's office. The interior was done in inoffensive, clinical linoleum and brown walls that matched the tones on the uniform of the officer at the front desk. The officer looked up. "May I help you, sir?"

"You may." Eric said. "I heard about the alderman's son. Such a tragedy. I just... wanted to pay my respects."

The officer shook his head. "Yes, it was," he said. "But regardless, this is a closed investigation. You'll have to pay your respects in time."

"Yes, I know," Eric said. "I hear you're calling in an expert in the ways of the weird."

"Yeah," the officer said, his demeanor hardening. "But we've been keeping that information close guarded, so the people don't get more freaked out than they are. Mind asking me how you know that?"

Oops. That left the question of how "BadbGirl" had known that, but that was a question for another time. What Eric needed to do now was make sure he didn't become a person of interest.

"I heard it through the professional grape vine," he said. Well, it was technically the truth... "My name is Eric LaCroix. I've looked into devil worship, corrupted druidic rites, Goetic summoning, and the occasional case of necromancy." That was closer to the truth.

The officer shifted his weight and his expression softened to one of curiosity. "Really?" he asked. "Well, Mr. LaCroix, while I appreciate the volunteer duty, we've already got an expert coming in --"

"I understand," he said. "Case of that prominence would certainly draw experts. Still, wouldn't hurt to get a meeting of the minds, would it, Officer...?"

"Jenkins," the man said. He sighed. "Well, suppose it can't hurt. Just take a seat and wait, all right? The sheriff should be on her way here."

Officer Jenkins picked up his phone and talked into it while Eric waited, knowing he was on thin ice. He'd managed to ingratiate himself in, but any professional would tell you that most killers would try to do the same thing. When the sheriff showed up, he'd need to convince her that he knew his stuff... or he could end up in a cell.

[KnightDisciple]

Carson had debated for a bit how to approach the situation in the small town. Lacking a car, he would have to rely on public transportation if he went in civilian mode. Worse, there was little reason for someone like him to be around a town like that. Better to go as a "concerned hero". Good thing he had some spare costumes; wouldn't do to end up stinking up the town!

So he packed about 5 day's worth of close into a moderate-sized duffel bag, tossed in his travel toiletries kit, and slipped out of his apartment building a few hours after making the decision. He figured he'd keep the speed down for most of the journey; no reason to get the FAA on his tail if things weren't in immediate crisis mode.

--------------------------------------

Gabriel had actually beaten Nick to the town itself, but he'd taken some time flying above it, getting the lay of the land, figuring out the major locations inside the town itself before finally landing about a block away from the sheriff's office. Ignoring the staring, pointing, and whispering, he strode to said office, duffel bag over one shoulder as he walked confidently in the door.

"My name is Gabriel, and I'd like to speak with someone in charge."

His tone was polite and respectful, no hint of an attempt to bully his way into the situation. It was still too delicate for that.

[trollthumper]

Officer Jenkins's eyes drifted right off of Eric and onto Gabriel. "Um... hold on one minute..." Jenkins typed into his keyboard, not once taking his eyes off of Gabriel. His eyes darted back over his screen for a second, and then he picked up the phone. "Uh, Sheriff Durand?" he said. "I know you're escorting Mr. Vigourie but, um... a hero's shown up in town." There was a pause. "Guy says his name is Gabriel. AVID* shows a career of about 9 months in Freedom City." Pause. "No, he hasn't said what he's doing out here, but I can take a guess... yes, I guess I could ask." He put his hand on the receiver. "May I ask what brings you around to Stratford, sir?"

*AEGIS Vigilante Information Database, free to law enforcement

[KnightDisciple]

Gabriel waited patiently as the officer spoke with the Sheriff. No harm waiting a bit more. He made sure to be as unthreatening as possible in his posture and expression. When asked about his business in town, he gave a nod and spoke.

"Yes you may, Officer Jenkins. I realize my presence here is decidedly abnormal. I saw the news, about that poor boy. I'm not the expert some are, but I was sure tensions would be running high around here. I came to help make sure justice is done. I'd hate to see innocents charged with wrongdoing, you see. And while I'm not an expert, I do have some exposure to...unusual things."

Demons were "unusual things", right?

"So, I figured I'd bring my people skills and outsider perspective to the situation. The more people examining things, the better, am I right?"

[GranspearZX]

Marcus felt very much like a tourist as he stepped off the bus. He'd gotten a fairly good glimpse of the town on the way in, but it was still largely unfamiliar to him. All he had was a knapsack and a gym bag; he could probably stay for a week without incident, not counting the inevitable aftermath at school. This seemed important--he needed to be here, though he wasn't yet sure why.

He was carrying his book as well, attached to its strap and hidden underneath the long brown trenchcoat he was wearing. It was hard to look inconspicuous--a 16-year old traveling alone. There wasn't much about him that didn't scream 'runaway'. Still, having a credit card in his own name helped him find a motel room without much incident, and he immediately left once he'd gotten himself settled. His first thought was to try and see where this crime had taken place; going to the police station would draw a little more attention to himself than he'd like, and really, who would divulge the sensitive information bound to be wrapped up in this incident to a teenager? He needed to see it with his own eyes, though he mentally prepared himself for some considerable resistance prior to arrival.

Walking through the town reminded him vaguely of himself--sleepy and boring until he learned of what magic was really about, and even now, he didn't think he had a full, 100% grasp on the subject. It didn't take him long to find the woods, though. Hands stuffed into his pockets, he kept an eye out for anyone in the area, his mind already working through speculation of what the scene might actually look like.

[trollthumper]

Officer Jenkins nodded to Gabriel. "I suppose it can't hurt," Jenkins said. "We're still trying to keep this on the local level, you understand. But at this point, the more experts we can get, the better." He looked over to Eric on the word "expert." "You two should probably have a seat until Sheriff Durand gets her. She knows you're here now, and should get here soon enough."

Eric walked over to Gabriel. "Nice to meet you," he said, extending his hand. "Eric LaCroix, occult investigator. I understand you hail from Freedom as well?"

---

Meanwhile, in the woods...

Marcus found a marked path that led into the woods easily enough. Judging by the disturbed leaves, there'd been plenty of foot traffic over it during the past few days. Walking down, he came to the far end of a clearing where a small rock stood in the center. Dead leaves covered the ground, and even with his senses muted compared to his other form, he could pick up the faint scent of blood. He could also easily pick up the yellow police tape that blocked entrance into the field.

"Excuse me."

A cop emerged from between a small copse of trees onto the trail, wearing the tan and brown uniform typical of some sheriff's offices. "This area is off-limits to pedestrians," he said. "Mind if I ask what you're doing here?"

[KnightDisciple]

Gabriel noted the cop's glance, but didn't move his gaze for the moment.

"I don't mind waiting, Officer. Though, after I meet with the Sheriff for a bit, I will need to get a hotel room."

Thank goodness he'd arranged for this special bank card. He didn't have a huge amount on it, but it should be enough for a hotel in a town this small.

Suddenly, what the officer had said fully processed. "She" would get here. Interesting.

"We'll be fine until she's here, I'm sure."

Gabriel shook Eric's hand with a smile.

"I've been in Freedom City for a while now, yes. I do have to ask, just to establish a baseline...How much investigation experience do you have?"

His question holds no mocking, only inquisitiveness.

[trollthumper]

"About five years," Eric said. "I know a good deal about voodoo and the various Afro-Caribbean faiths, Wicca and other neo-pagan beliefs, Thelema, LaVeyan Satanism, demon worship, Hinduism and its dark variations, ancient Semitic practices, and good old fashioned magical practices." He took a look at Gabriel's costumes. "Pardon me for guessing, but I estimate your experience stems from the clergy? Or a lay equivalent, maybe."

[KnightDisciple]

Gabriel blinks at the variety.

"That's a rather impressive list, Eric. I have to admit, I haven't even heard of Thelema. Though voodoo..."

He frowns, one hand rubbing across his chest, as if tracing scars.

"I hate to say I'm all to familiar with the darker parts of that. Demons, well...They're rarely nice, for sure."

He shakes his head, a lighter mood returning to him.

"I'm not a priest, though I could understand the mistake. I am a lay person, though my knowledge of the world of magic is fairly recent. I've actually recently acquired a source who's been giving me access to some books. But it's still pretty new to me. If you're curious, I'm Catholic. I'm here to hopefully help provide a...well, a voice that more people might pay attention to, if you understand me. Even if I have differences of opinion and worldview with those who these people might suspect, I will not stand for them to be charged with crimes they didn't commit."

There's steel within the velvet politeness in his words.

[trollthumper]

"Ah," Eric said. "My apologies for the mistake, then. I know there are heroes like Almsman up in Boston who claim to be clergy; I was just assuming, and made an ass out of you and me. But I'm glad to hear you won't stand for a possible miscarriage of justice here." He lowered his voice. "That's why I'm here, myself. Small town like this, people sometimes overreact when they brush up against the darkness. Last thing I want to see is some local practitioner getting arrested 'cause someone can't tell which way a pentacle's pointing."

[GranspearZX]

Marcus frowned; the fact that he could smell blood even without the benefit of his ursine senses wasn't terribly encouraging. Before he could think any more on the subject, however, he had company.

"Huh? Oh, uh..." Marcus's mind scrambled for a suitable excuse. Curiosity just wasn't going to cut it. "Sorry. I was just... looking around." When in doubt, it seemed like the smartest thing to do was just be honest. He was here to help, after all; there was no sense in putting up massive subterfuge when it wasn't completely necessary. Still... Marcus could tell just by the officer's expression that he thought he was just some punk kid looking for some random thrill.

What exactly was he supposed to say? 'Hi, I'm the magical Sherlock Holmes'? While the brief thought did amuse him, it seemed incredibly inappropriate. Still, he needed to see that crime scene...

"I'm... just here to help is all. It's kind of hard to explain, but that's what I was sent here for." By who or what, he wasn't even sure, but the effort and stress of trying to come up with some elaborate excuse was making the Beast Rune itch a little bit.

[trollthumper]

The officer looked at the teenage Marcus somewhat skeptically. "You're here to help," he repeated back, skepticism seeping into every word. "Son, I understand that just about everyone wants to help right now, but this is a murder investigation. So unless you've got some credentials, and you're not just here to say a prayer for the Harris kid, I suggest you may want to turn around. And if you do have some sort of credentials, you may want to talk to the sheriff about it."

[GranspearZX]

"..." Marcus bit back a sarcastic remark. He certainly wasn't in the habit of having to prove these sorts of things, and he definitely wasn't going to activate the Beast Rune right in front of this police officer. Really, that didn't prove much of anything.

"...this isn't my first rodeo, officer. But I won't even know if I can help until I actually see it for myself." He adjusted his knapsack a bit--more to scratch the itch on his shoulder than anything else. "Prayers aren't gonna solve the immediate problem. And I'd rather not waste the sheriff's time if there really isn't anything I can offer. I just need a few minutes, that's all." It was true enough; Marcus didn't see the point in even mentioning what he could do if none of it would really help. And there was a lot he could discern in a 10 minutes, even without the benefit of his bear form.

[trollthumper]

The officer sighed. "Well, we've already had reporters tromping all over this scene, and that windstorm yesterday," he said. "I'm calling this in, but you'll get your look. You'd just better have press credentials or someone who can vouch for you when this is all done." He reached into his pocket and handed Marcus a pair of plastic booties and a hair net. "And slip these on over your shoes and head. We need to keep the scene as clean as possible." He kept his eyes on Marcus all the while; it was clear that he wasn't going to let the young man out of his sight.

[GranspearZX]

Marcus nodded, slipping the plastic over his boots. He was well versed enough in being outdoors to know how to not leave tracks and that sort of thing, but there was no telling what he might accidentally step on or nudge. He blinked at the hair net and, for a second, gave the officer a look as if to ask if he was really serious; rather than verbalize that, he just put it on. He decided not to think about the whole credentials part; right at that moment, he didn't want to think about trying to call the scant few people he knew in the magical community. As far as he knew, no one even knew he was here yet.

"Alright... I'm ready when you are, officer." He squinted a bit as he tried to see if the officer even had a name.

[trollthumper]

The officer -- whose name tag, Marcus could now see, reads "MALLOY" -- lifted the tape, then ducked over. Once Marcus crossed the tape, he pointed over to the rock. "Jogger found the body early Tuesday morning," Malloy said. "Harris was splayed out, in just his boxers, cuts on his wrists and thighs. Something weird scribbled on his stomach." The officer then pointed his finger to an area a foot in front of the rock, then traced his finger along it. "Some of the rest of the blood splashed out along the sides... but the coroner says the amount splashed about doesn't account for what was in his body. Some folks in town are talking vampires, as damn weird as that might sound."

[KnightDisciple]

"Ah," Eric said. "My apologies for the mistake, then. I know there are heroes like Almsman up in Boston who claim to be clergy; I was just assuming, and made an ass out of you and me. But I'm glad to hear you won't stand for a possible miscarriage of justice here." He lowered his voice. "That's why I'm here, myself. Small town like this, people sometimes overreact when they brush up against the darkness. Last thing I want to see is some local practitioner getting arrested 'cause someone can't tell which way a pentacle's pointing."

Gabriel shrugs as he takes a seat to wait, placing his bag on the floor beside him.

"It's an honest mistake. We're all allowed those, I'd say. I mean, I'm dressed all in white, I have Celtic crosses on my coat, and I call myself "Gabriel". I'm shocked I don't get more people asking if I'm actually an angel. Which is also very much not true."

He closed his eyes for a moment, his lips seeming to move slightly. Perhaps a short prayer? Whatever it was, he was done in less than a minute.

"At any rate...We definitely have the same goal here. I'd appreciate any and all help you could give me. In return, hopefully I can...grease the wheels...when it comes to dealing with...well, anybody, really."

A mischievous grin adorns his face.

"I have something of a way with words."

[GranspearZX]

"No patterns or circles or anything like that?" Marcus frowned, his mind immediately returning to the officer's earlier comment about the windstorm. He'd seen a spell in his own book about creating one with enough force to move a small vehicle; if that sort of thing could be sustained, it could've blown a considerable portion of the evidence away. He rubbed at the bridge of his nose with his forefinger and temple, closing his eyes for a few moments before regarding the scene again.

Vampires usually aren't this... voyeuristic. Maybe someone was trying to summon something. Getting to the 'who' is gonna be impossible without knowing the 'why'...

"Do you remember what was written on him?" He wasn't entirely sure he'd be able to translate what was written; he silently cursed himself for not learning a bit more Latin as Etain had suggested. Still, if someone had blown away all the evidence of a ritual, then there was an even better route that he could possibly take. "...just how strong was that windstorm? And do you remember the direction of the wind that day?" If he knew where to begin, he could transform and sniff out anything in the woods that didn't belong. That would, of course, entail somehow ditching Officer Malloy... he'd cross that bridge when he got there.

[trollthumper]

"No circles," Malloy said, "unless you mean that thing on his chest. Wasn't writing, or at least not in any language I'd recognize. Kind of like... an arrow mixed with a cross, with triangles for tails. As for the windstorm... wasn't like a noreaster or anything, but just strong enough to blow the leaves about. Was blowing... east, I think. Why?"

[GranspearZX]

"...just a hunch." Marcus scratched at his chin, musing thoughtfully over the symbol Malloy described. The symbol seemed like something familiar, but without a visual reference, he couldn't quite put his finger on its purpose. The other materials used in the ritual could certainly have provided even more revealing clues.

"I'm probably gonna need more to go on than just this... Would you mind if I had a look around the woods?" He pretty much expected the officer to say no, but there was no way he was going to be able to track anything by scent in his current form...