Information
John Newcastle
Legacy Name: John Newcastle
The
Common MaharOwner:
MandarkAge: 11 years, 5 months, 1 day
Born: November 23rd, 2012
Adopted: 11 years, 5 months, 1 day ago
Adopted: November 23rd, 2012
Statistics
- Level: 1
- Strength: 10
- Defense: 10
- Speed: 10
- Health: 10
- HP: 10/10
- Intelligence: 0
- Books Read: 0
- Food Eaten: 0
- Job: Unemployed
as in the John Newcastle
[spoiler="
Private Eye: Arrival]It was a new city, and a new case, but everything
seemed oddly the same to John. It was the same dark,
cloudy night, the same rain fell, light but icy cold,
and he drew the same long coat tighter around himself.
Well, perhaps not exactly the same - The house he walked toward now was much nicer than the dives he usually got his work. It was an old home, a classic, but in good repair. The paving stones under foot had nary a weed between them, and when he knocked on the door with a gloved hand, it was the unmistakable sound of solid wood.
An older man soon answered, and John did his best to stand up straight and appear clean and friendly. "Mr. Lovell?" He asked, removing his hat and stepping into the foyer. The older man quickly replied "I am Mr. Gibbs. I am Mr. Lovell's gentleman. Please, let me show you to the sitting room - He will be with you shortly."
The sitting room was warm and comfortable, with snacks laid out, but John did not sit or eat; One could never be quite sure whom they were dealing with at these first meetings, and while his background check on Mr. Lovell revealed nothing, that didn't necessarily mean that there was nothing to be revealed. Soon, what could only have been Mr.Lovell entered the room. He was dressed simply, but richly, and his face was wrought with worry.
"I'm sorry to have kept you waiting, Mister...?"
"Just John, sir."
Mr. Lovell seemed a little off-put, but said nothing further on the subject. Instead, he sat in an overstuffed chair and absently snacked on a spinach puff. John had seen this before - People rarely new where to begin in this kind of situation, and so he started the conversation.
"I normally cater to a different kind of clientel, sir. How did you come to need my services? Did your wife run into a bit of trouble?"
"My son," Mr. Lovell said, smiling politely, but it didn't change the sadness in his eyes. "The last I heard from him, he was going to some kind of... bar downtown. They call it the Moon Unit."
John smirked at the name. Werewolves with a sense of humor, no doubt. Still, the Weres, wolf or otherwise, were normally a non-confrontational sort, especially those that had been living in a city for time enough to set up a local haunt of their own. "When was this?" John asked.
"Friday evening. He hadn't returned yet when I went to bed, but that wasn't so unusual. I began to get worried when I woke, and he still hadn't returned."
"I understand, sir. And his name?"
"Lyle."
Lyle Lovell? John couldn't help but smile. Perhaps the kid was friends with Bruce Banner and Peter Parker. He turned his back to the father, politely hiding his smile while also taking a moment to glance around the room. A few photos sat around, and he saw what must have been Lyle. He was an attractive young man, and John could practically see where this case was going already. He expected to find Lyle and some chick in a hotel, laying on a bed of his father's money.
"Thank you, sir," He said, taking on the photos out of it's frame carefully. "Do you mind if I take this?"
"No, please. Anything that will help."
John debated asking for more money. "I'll get to work straight away. Please call if you remember any detail that you think may help me."
[spoiler="
Watchful Eye: Red Tide]The funny thing about werewolves that, even when in their humanoid shape, you could always tell one when you saw one. Well, at least if you knew what you were looking for. They had a sort of savageness to them, a wildness to their eyes, and a certain musky smell. Another funny thing about werewolves is that they can tell that you are not one of them. Even at noon, the Moon Unit had several patrons, and they all turned to look at John with eyes full of that certain wildness when he entered.
John tipped his hat politely, then made his way to the bar. The bartender was an older woman, with a thin, hard body. She made her way toward him cautiously, clearly not sure what to expect. "What can I get you?"
"Just a bit of information. Do you know who was tending bar Friday night?" John said.
The bartender, whose name tag declared her 'Irene', thought for a moment. "I was. I was covering for Oswald."
"Fantastic," John said, reaching for the photo of Lyle that he had in his coat. As he felt around his inside pocket, he spared a second to glance at the bar. It was a bit of a dive, honestly. Not the kind of place he would have picture a rich daddy's boy to party at. This place definitely wouldn't have been popular with anyone but its key demographic - Members of which were still sneaking wary glances at him over their mid-day beers. Finally finding the picture amidst his other papers, he slid it over the bar to Irene. "Do you know this kid?"
She studied the picture for a moment, then shrugged. "I see a lot of people. He has a pretty common face."
John laughed. "You would remember this one. He wasn't a Were." And at once the bar seemed to get quiet enough to hear a pin drop. Even the small corner TV seemed to hush itself. There was the scrape of a bar stool, and one of the patrons, a very large man, had gotten to his feet.
"I'm not a hunter." John said quickly. "You've got every right to your place here, it's none of my business-"
"No, it ain't." Said the large man.
"I've been hired by this boy's father. He's missing. I'm just looking for information." And though he wasn't a hunter, John was wishing that he had silver bullets. Or had just thought to wear running shoes, perhaps.
Irene waved the large man back into his seat, and while he did retreat a step or two, he did not sit. She took the picture in her hands, and considered it again. "He was here. He was a nice kid, but one of those thrill-seeker types. We get them from time to time - Kids who know what kind of bar this is, and want to party with Weres."
John smirked. "You can't blame them, the movies make it seem so much more interesting. Do you remember what time he left? Did he arrive or leave with anyone?"
"He left early," Irene said, "About one-thirty, I think. It must have been around there, because Late Talk was on and the musical guest was already playing. I remember he took off with another guy - I don't know if they arrived together, but he wasn't a Were, either. He had an odd look to him, though. You know what a mean?"
"Some sort of otherkin?" John ventured.
"Or a faerie, maybe. I don't meant to be racist, but I swear his eyes were red, and he smelled like the river. Might be a Red Cap."
John gave a bemused smile. "What does the river have to do with it?"
"You're definitely not a hunter. You'd be dead by now." Said a male voice. Not the large man, but a rail-thin, balding man sitting on the stool behind him. "Red Caps live in ruins. There are a ton of old warehouses by the river, and that's the closest thing to a ruin they would have in this city."
It was a thin lead, but it was better than nothing. "Thank you all very much." John said, taking back the picture of Lyle and seating himself at the bar. "I'll have a beer, thanks."
[spoiler="
Eye Catcher: Hidden]Comparing the warehouses near the river to ruins wasn't as much of an exaggeration as John thought. In a trendier city, they might have been converted to lofts long ago, but in this particular city, they had been left to rot. Some of the doors, in fact, had rotted off the hinges, and so it didn't take a lot of effort for John to shoulder them open. In some, he found musty piles of textiles that had never made it to sale, but in most he found rats.
He was midway down the row of forgotten buildings, when he met a door that wouldn't budge. Though its hinges and locks were as rusted as the rest in the row, the wood had no give to it, and even when attempting to dramatically kick in the door, all John succeeded in doing was hurting his foot. He certainly couldn't leave it unexplored, that was for sure. The more considered the building, the more odd it seemed.
Limping into a narrow passage between two warehouses, he looked for a window. There were several, but they were all much to high on the wall, and so he continued around to the back of the building, where there was a parking lot full of weeds, and a small back door with a window beside it. It would have been far to lucky for the door to be unlocked, but John tried it anyway, and found that it was indeed locked. Peering through the window, it seemed to look into a small office, a calendar from several years before long abandoned on the wall. what lay in the rest of the warehouse could not be seen.
His foot still throbbing from his attempted forced entry on the front door, John decided that perhaps the simpler approach was best. There was no shortage of rocks or heaved bits of concrete in the parking lot, and so he took one and sent it through the window, reaching through to unlock the door. Entering, the building smelled like dust and mildew, and as his eyes adjusted, John saw that the picture inside the warehouse was odder than he could have imagined. It was packed full of things, and things was about the best way they could be described; He saw several bentbicycle frames, a dining room set, a broken rocking chair, and more piles of boxes and newspapers than one could hope to count in a lifetime, never mind at at glance. The further he explored, the more obvious it became that the stacks of junk were arranged into pathways, and hidden in the gloom somewhere, John swore he could hear voices.
It was not the first time John wished that he carried a gun, and it certainly wouldn't be the last, and so while he slowly made it way toward the voices, he pondered his life choices and looked through the junk for something that would at least leave a bruise. He found a bat once, and then later some kind of pipe, but both were so hopelessly lodged in their respective junk piles that it would have been impossible to remove them without making a racket. The muffled voices were just beyond a few twists and turns now, and so John practiced making fists, suddenly self-conscious about how he held his thumb when he did so.
The voices grew louder, and John came to what he could only assume was the final corner. He peeked around it gingerly, and found what awaited him even more bizarre than the piles of junk. It was a makeshift sitting room, with a sofa, a chair, and a small sideboard with an old-fashioned radio reciting the news. He saw no one. At least, he saw no one until he felt a sharp burst of pain in the side of his head and went reeling to the floor. It was a small man with bright red eyes, in his hands some sort of fire poker. He swung again, this time catching John in the arm as he raised it to protect himself. Now his arm and his head were aching, as well as his stupidly injured foot, and the sound of his heartbeat pounding in his ears nearly blocked out another voice yelling.
As the small man brought the poker down for another swing, another man, an oddly familiar man broke into John's field of vision, catching the blow awkwardly. "Wait!" he was yelling, and even more frantically "He's bleeding!". John barely had time to recognize the man's face before his world started to go black- it was Lyle Lovell.
[spoiler="
Eye Spy: Lost and Found]When John opened his eyes, the world was still swimming. He wouldn't have known that he had blacked out at all if the light filtering through the grimy warehouse windows hadn't taken on the golden hue of early evening. Glancing around himself, he was still on the floor in the makeshift sitting room, but a few things had changed: There was some kind of cushion under his head, and there was a dark jacket hung over the sofa next to a seated man. Oh, a man!
John shot up, but was immediately struck with a wave of vertigo and found himself right back in his original position on the floor. "Welcome back, John." said the man on the sofa. Though his vision was still doubled, the two images came together for a moment into the shape of Lyle.
"You know my name?" John asked, sitting up again, this time slowly. Lyle smiled in an odd way. "I went through your stuff," he said, and for the first time, John realized the coat on the sofa was his. He looked down at the rest of him, and found the rest of his right where he expected it to be, though he was surprised to see his shirt dotted with blood. Then he remember the little man, and being hit in the head.
"So you and your little gremlin friend hit me in the head and strip me while I'm knocked out?" John quipped, one hand creeping up to gingerly feel his head. There was no lump or tenderness that he could find, and certainly not a cut. Lyle rose from the sofa and moved to John side, crouching beside him. "He's a redcap. And trust me, John, you're not pretty enough to go to the trouble of full nudity." He smiled charmingly, but it faded as he abruptly changed gears. "You're working for my dad."
John had no reason to lie. "Yes. He's worried about you. He sent me to find you." Lyle laughed, though John couldn't see anything funny about it. "Well, you've found me, though I wasn't lost." Said Lyle, "Don't take me back."
Flexing his arm, where he remembered being hit again as he fell to the floor, there was some stiffness, but no pain. Something wasn't right. He distinctly remembered the throbbing his his arm, the crack he swore her heard before he blacked out. "You're a grown man, Lyle. I can't take you anywhere." He tested his arm with his weight, then slowly got to his feet. His foot was still in pain, which he found somewhat comforting under the circumstances. Lyle rose with him, and followed him as he limped to the sofa to get his jacket. "Is my wallet still in here?"
"What? With your sweet ten dollars? No, John, that was too much to resist. I stole it and spent it on hookers. They just left. If only you had woken up sooner." Lyle rolled his eyes. "So you won't tell me father?"
"No, I said I wouldn't take you back. I am going to tell your father I found you, and I am going to tell him exactly where I found you." John shrugged on his coat, and felt around in the pockets. His wallet was there, though under inspection you could see that someone had been through it; All the cards were put back in the wrong places, and his loose change had been put into the zippered change pouch, rather than randomly strewn in the bill fold. "This is my job, Mr. Lovell."
Lyle pounced on that. "If it's about money, I can pay you to keep quiet. My shut-up money is just as green as my father's tell-me money." But John was not so easily swayed, "It's not just the money. I am under contract by your father, and I am going to do the honorable thing and fulfill my obligation to him."
"Well, what if you could keep your obligation to him? Just... Not yet. Like... Just pretend that you haven't seen me until next week. I don't know." John could see that Lyle was on the edge of tears. He knew that he should leave, but instead, John found himself sitting on the sofa, grateful to be off of his throbbing foot "Why is this so important to you, Mr. Lovell?"
Lyle's handsome face broke into a smile of relief, obviously understanding that he was gaining some ground. He wiped his misty eyes with the back of his hand, and perched himself on the sideboard. "Call me Lyle, John." He paused for a long moment. "What I am about to say is in the strictest confidence, John. If you decided to go back to my father, and you tell him what I am about to tell you, it will put both of us in danger. Us and Martin. That's the redcap. The guy that hit you. He went for a walk. He doesn't trust you-"
"Moving on." John prodded.
"Right," said Lyle, and he continued.
[spoiler="
Eye Do: Partnership]"I have reason to believe that I am a fairy." Lyle said, and John had to resist the urge to laugh out loud. He apparently didn't hide his smile completely, however, because Lyle became suddenly irate. "Are you serious, John? That's nice, very mature." John put his hands in the air as a sign of apology, and did his best to look contrite, though he still found the phrasing hilarious.
"Why would you think that?"
Lyle was quiet for a moment. Emotions flashed across his face plainly, and John could tell that he was obviously trying to sort out some sort of inner turmoil. He felt bad for the fairy thing, now. Wetting his lips with his tongue nervously, Lyle began. "For as long as I can remember, I have had powers. Healing powers. It works out fine when you are a little kid and crashing on your bike is no big deal, but you start to get older, and you realize that no one else is like you. And it is scary. I was scared for a long time; I never told anyone, and once I learned that I was totally alone, I stopped using it. I pretended it didn't exist."
"But pretending something doesn't exist doesn't make it go away. In the back of my mind, I knew that this was eating away inside me. Soon I was an adult, in college, and I had been hiding part of myself for so long that I just felt empty. But then, I started hearing rumors. Obviously, you know the sort I am talking about - otherkin, fairy folk, vampires, werewolves-"
"Therianthropes," John corrected, interrupting. "There are more than wolves out there."
Lyle quirked an eyebrow at him. "Thank you, professor. Do you want to hear my story or not?"
John shrugged. "I can do without the detailed account of your life, really. I'm not your buddy. I just wanted to know why you don't want me to report to your father."
When Lyle spoke again, it was after a moment of silent frowning, and he was very terse. "Fine. I think I am some kind of fairy folk, and my father stole me. I do not know why, or where he took me from, but I want time to find out. I will pay you to keep your mouth shut." Then a sudden look came over his face as he had a spark of inspiration, "Better yet, how about I pay you to be my companion? I can keep an eye on you, you can keep an eye on me. And you can tell me tharithropods or whatever, since I am obviously really badly equipped on my own."
"Therianthropes." John corrected again. "What about your goblin friend? Like you said, he doesn't seem to care for me all that much."
"He's not coming. They don't like to leave their homes, and I don't know how far this is going to take me. They're a solitary people, so I really can't thank him enough for even letting me stay here," Still seated on the sideboard, Lyle stretched his legs, then his back. "This is going to sound dumb, John, but I feel like I can trust you. I have an odd feeling like you are the person I have been waiting for. You don't have to respond to that. I know it's weird. Just nod if you agree to the arrangement."
And, without much hesitation, John nodded.
[spoiler="
Eye to Eye: A New Beginning]If one were to ask him later, John would say he didn't know why he nodded, but that would be a lie. Truthfully, he knew exactly that Lyle meant when he said that they were meant to find eachother, though he couldn't explain the why of it; it wasn't as if his jokes had gone off particularly well and they were bonding over comedy.
Still, there was some kind of connection there. John had seen too many things not to believe in kismet, and so he had to wonder if there was some great pre-destined story that he was starting. Or, for that matter, perhaps the story had already been going on for months without his notice. While he silently watched Lyle pack up a few things- clothes, mostly- into a plain messenger bag, John reflected on the story, the kind of protagonist he had been so far, and what was coming in the future. He hoped for romance, or at least debauchery of some sort.
Who was he kidding? If there was going to be any debauchery at all, it would definitely be focused on Lyle. The kid was absurdly handsome, with a soft way of speaking and a casualness that put you at ease. By contrast, even when trying to be nice, John constantly found ways to offend and inflame. Perhaps he needed to work on his delivery.
Lyle straightened up and took a final look around, checking for anything he was forgetting. Once he was satisfied, he turned around, and he and John locked eyes and held it for an uncomfortable moment. In John's case, he was carefully sizing up his new partner, wondering for that last time before they left whether this was the right thing. He could only imagine Lyle was thinking something similar.
John broke off the eye-contact first, choosing to look down at his feet, instead. "Where to, boss?"
"To the train station." Lyle said immediately.
[spoiler="
Evil Eye: Surprises]To give credit where credit was due, Lyle knew exactly where they were going, though John wasn't familiar with their destination, or with travel by trains in general. As far as John could tell, the only advantage to a private cabin was having a private washroom, though he thought cabin was an very euphemistic term for the closet he was sitting in. Still, it had a small TV, and talk-TV was just as good in a closet as it was in a mansion. Unfortunately, the chips he had paid a ridiculous nine dollars for didn't seem to taste any better than the average two dollar bag.
But it was Lyle's money. Or rather, Lyle's father's money, and Lyle was being very generous with it. Nothing had cost John a dime. Even now, Lyle was off spending more of it in the dining car, another euphemistic term for a cafeteria on wheels. John couldn't imagine force-feeding himself some of that slop, but he imagined that for Lyle it was the act of defiance that filled his needs, and not the food.
The knock at the door was so unexpected that, at first, John thought it must have been a knock on a nearby door instead of his own. Only when it came again, more insistently with some jiggling of the knob, did he finally dust the crumbs off of his shirt and answer. It was Lyle.
"Forget your key?" John asked, moving the few feet back to his chair and falling into it gracelessly. Lyle entered the room, shutting the door behind him, but did not answer. John gave him a lingering glance; the other man didn't look quite himself. His face wasn't held in its normal, friendly way, and he stood in an odd, stoop-shouldered way. "Food didn't agree with you?"
Lyle remained oddly silent. He looked around the small room as if he were seeing it for the first time. He moved a little closer, watching the TV for a moment. "You angry with me?" John asked, unsure of what he could have done, but did not doubt he had managed to do something. Lyle didn't react to the question, only leaned over to the small TV built into the wall and turned the volume up until John could feel the vibrations in his bones.
"What the hell?" John shouted, reaching forward to turn it down again. Then Lyle lunged at him.
---
John had been right. The food in the dining car was terrible, but sitting at a table, having your lunch, while the countryside drifted by was definitely a unique experience. He had seen a few horses in a field, a derelict vintage car abandoned along a forgotten, dusty road, and a sign advertising fresh honey. He would need to remember to come back when he wasn't in the middle of character building journey.
He made his way down a noisy passage, back to the private cabin that he was sharing with John, wondering if judge-shows had made way to talk-shows, yet. John seemed to have the schedule for every single one memorized, which was as oddly charming as it was absurd. Only as he neared the door, did he realize that the noise he had noticed was the blaring of a TV within. He shook his head, a smile playing over his lips as he fished his key out.
He was surprised to find the door already unlocked; when he had left the room, John made a specific fuss about taking keys. "What was the point of that whole key drama?" Lyle said, pushing the door open and stepping inside.
It took Lyle a moment to process the scene. John lay on the floor within, unconscious and bleeding from a cut on the head. More blood dotted the floor. Suddenly, a figure flew out of the tiny bathroom, and the next thing Lyle processed was the feeling of himself hitting the wall hard.
[spoiler="
Bright-Eyed: A Double-Take]When his head hit the wall, Lyle's vision blurred and bloomed white. He struggled to regain his surroundings, as well as catch the breath that had been knocked out of him. The television was still blaring, every thump of the base in the music of whatever commercial was playing adding to the disorientation.
"What did we have for dinner last night!?" The attacker asked, and Lyle became even more confused. His vision began to clear, and it was John he saw holding him to the wall. Lyle looked back to the heap of a man on the floor. It was still John as well. The standing-John shook Lyle hard, and repeated his question. "For dinner. Last night. What did we have?"
"Nothing!" Lyle said quickly. "We didn't have time because of your stupid shortcut."
Standing-John considered the reply for a moment."Beat it was on the radio," Lyle continued, "And you don't know the lyrics as well as you think you do."
Standing-John released him immediately. "I had to know that you were... Well, you." His eyes drifted over to the other John on the ground.
Lyle rubbed his head where it had hit the wall, feeling a bit of bump forming. "At least you got the upper hand this time. No offense, but you suck at fighting- Wait, how do I know you are you? That could be... you-you on the ground? What do you have hanging from your rear-view mirror?"
Standing-John replied without missing a beat. "Pretty Kitty-chan, but she came with the car."
The tension in the room dissipated almost immediately. They both turned to look at the John-clone on the floor, reserving their questions until John had closed the door, and Lyle had turned the TV off. The silence hung in the air, before Lyle broke it simply. "What the hell?"
"He's just knocked out. He's a Ringer." John said, out of breath, himself. "He came in here looking like you. Switched to me after he knocked me on my ass. Not sure why."
"We should tell someone. Security or something." Lyle said, deciding to reserve his questions and focus on practicality for a moment.
John laughed in spite of the situation. "Oh, yes. 'Hello sir, my evil twin has been causing us a bit of trouble. I would appreciate it if you would take him off our hands, but I don't really want to answer any questions about it. Watch out, he might try to become your evil twin and take your face off. Have a nice day!'."
Lyle had to concede that point. "So, what do we do?"
"We're going to have to get off at the next stop. Someone clearly doesn't like one of us. Or both of us." John said. He started gathering up their belongings haphazardly, jamming wallets and keys into the pockets of jackets indiscriminately.
"We're no where near our destination yet, John! We'll be getting off the in the mountains. It's going to be freezing cold." Lyle said, but even as he was speaking, he understood that there was no other choice. He took his jacket from John, and quickly threw it on, feeling in the pockets for his belongings. "You have my wallet, I think."
John fished around in his own pockets, and found that he indeed had two. Flipping the first open, he saw Lyle's identification and prepared to hand it over, when a shiny visa caught his eye. "Have you been using this card?"
"Yes." Lyle said.
"Is it connected to your father's?" Asked John.
"Yes." Lyle said again, this time a bit sheepishly.
An odd look came across John's face. "So he has known where you were the whole time. Why did he bother to send me after you?"
For that, neither of them had an answer.
[spoiler="
Eye Candy: Questions]The sun had set by the time the train arrived at the next platform, and after it had pulled away, John and Lyle were left alone in the dark and cold. The ticket office was closed, but a small enclosed seating area gave them respite from the chill.
They hadn't spoken about their discovery on the train, now worried about how many ears could listen in, or had been listening in. Now that they were free to discuss the issue, John drew it out a moment longer by succumbing to the welcoming glow of a vending machine. When he sat down, it was with a bag of chips and a sigh.
"Chip?" He said, too casually, shaking the bag in Lyle's face.
Lyle swatted the bag away angrily, spilling some of the contents onto the floor, and started pacing. "Are you kidding me, John? This is serious! I thought my "father" was some lonely, misguided sad, sad man, stealing babies. Now he sends someone to kill me? Or kill you? I don't even understand, he sent you to-"
The words caught in Lyle's throat as the thought struck him. "He sent you. Why would he send someone else to try and kill you? I've already agreed to let you take me back once this is done."
"Maybe he didn't send anyone?" John said, looking sadly at the poor, victimized chips on the floor. "What is the five-second rule for train station floors?"
"Then, how, John!?" Lyle snapped, his face getting red with a mixture of anger and embarrassment, "There are only two people who know where I am- him, thanks to the credit card, and you! I can't believe I let you fool me-"
John put up his hands defensively, "Whoa there, the body double we ditched on the train attacked -me-, remember!"
"Is that supposed to prove that you two aren't working together? Because, honestly John, sometimes I want to punch you in the face! And not just when I think you are a shady, spying bastard!"
John shifted uneasily in his chair, but otherwise did not react. He ate a few chips in silence, and when he spoke again, it was with his usual casual, deliberate tone. "I think you're focusing in the wrong place, Lyle. You can make guesses all you want, but these are the facts. Your father hired me to find you when he knew exactly where you were the whole time."
Lyle was still fuming. "So you and your friend from the train could kill me!"
John shook his head, wearing a bemused expression. "Why all the effort? You've been his son, stolen or otherwise, for... 21? 22? years. If he wanted to kill you, he would have done it before. What are you trying to feed me, here? That your father, overcome with a sudden and inexplicable murderous rage, waited for you to go missing under werewolfish circumstances so he could hire two thugs, one of which would pretend to be a paranormal investigator and gain your trust for... What purpose?."
"I don't know!" Lyle shouted, with some uncertainty.
"I think, if we should be considering any question," John continued, "it should be why your father wanted us to be together so badly? Not that I don't appreciate your company, but you have to admit it's a peculiar turn of events."
Lyle's anger was waning now. "What about the guy on the train?"
"To be fair, we don't know if that was actually a guy," John corrected, "But it seems to me that what we have there is a separate, but not necessarily unrelated, situation."
"Related how?" Lyle asked, and John just shrugged in response. Lyle took a moment to process everything that had been said, and while he still wasn't sure he was ready to fully trust the other man again, John had made some very compelling arguments. "What now?"
John spent a moment chewing in contemplation. "Where were we headed on that train?"
"There is a city called Stemmenford. Martin - the redcap from the warehouse- said that there is a large population of faerie folk there. He said it would be a good place to find information."
John considered the information. "Let's go there, but this time, let's drive. And we'll rent the car on my credit card."
[spoiler="
Naked Eye: Revelations]It was a long, boring drive. John's eyes had begun to swim hours ago with the glow of the streetlights, and the breaking dawn was no better. He steered one handed for a moment, rubbing his eyes furiously, then rolled the window down to let a blast of cold, fresh air clear his head. Outside, the world was covered in a thin crust of ice. Even in the glow of the rising sun, everything had a desaturated, milky quality that suggested it might snow later.
Asleep in the passenger seat, Lyle shivered at the burst of freezing air, and began to stir. He opened his eyes blearily, wincing at the dawn light, and covered his face with his arm. "You were supposed to wake me up to switch," he said groggily. After a moment he sat up and looked around, "Where are we?"
"We're just outside of Stemmenford," John replied, "I was waiting until breakfast to wake you." As if on queue, a few houses and business began to appear and the trees started the thin, marking the edges of the town. It was only a few more minutes before the open sign of a strip mall diner caught John's eye, and he pulled into the parking lot. "Can I treat you to something healthy and enriched with vitamins?"
Lyle rolled his eyes and climbed out the car, taking a moment to stretch after such a long drive. John soon joined him, and the two of them entered the diner. There was a surprising crowd for the early hour. Judging on appearances only, John suspected that many of them were truckers of one kind of another. He did not recall seeing and trucks outside, but perhaps there was lot nearby. The pair of them took a booth, and waited for someone to bring menus. "So, where do we go after this?" John asked, looking passively around.
"I was told to find someone called Faye," Lyle said. "I know, funny right?" John couldn't help but smile
A portly, stern-faced waitress mad her way to the table. She set down two menus unceremoniously, without even sparing a second glance at them. "The special this morning is the Country Breakfast, two eggs, two sausage, two bacon, hashbrowns, and your choice of toast."
John nodded politely. "I think we'll need a minute," he said, "Can I get a cup of coffee, though? Thanks..." he searched for her name tag, and the words caught in his throat for a moment, "Faye."
Lyle's head snapped up from the menu so quickly that it was noticeable, and Faye gave them an odd look. For the first time, she was really looking at them, and what could only be recognition came over her face. "Well, damn! I wasn't expecting the two of you for a few more days. John and Lyle shared an uneasy look, which caused Faye to laugh boisterously. "We'll talk after the breakfast rush, boys."
It couldn't have been more than a hour and a half before the early morning crowd had mostly cleared out, but the time seemed to drag on for John and Lyle. They ate their breakfast in a daze and made idle chit-chat, but their minds were elsewhere. Finally, Faye came to clear their plates. "You boys follow me back,' she said, gathering up their plates and cups and turning toward the kitchen.
John was understandably wary. As they made their way to the back, he took inventory of things that could be used as weapons if things turned bad, but there honestly wasn't much. Some of the wood-carvings hung on the wall as decor might be heavy enough to cause a bit of damage, at least. Entering the kitchen, they drew a bit of attention from the cook, but not as much as John would have expected.
Faye set their dishes beside a stainless steel sink, then gestured them toward a back office, as small as it was unremarkable and generic. She pushed the door closed and waited for it to click shut before saying, "Do you believe in fate?"
"Yes," Lyle said immediately, but John wasn't sure what to say. He finally settled on, "I am open to the concept of predestination."
Faye laughed at John's safe choice of words, and went to sit behind the small office desk, stacked with papers and ledgers. There was only one guest chair. John let Lyle take it - He would rather be standing in case something was about to happen.
"You two have a very special destiny," Faye continued. She pulled a small stone bowl out of the the desk drawer and set it on the desk top. Inside was some dark liquid, smooth as glass and undisturbed by the movements of the bowl. The next thing she pulled out was a knife. Not going to be caught off guard again, John grabbed her hand quickly, keeping it and the knife pinned to the desk.
She laughed again, "Oh, John, you need to relax,". It occurred to John that he hadn't mentioned his name. She seemed to understand his realization, and uses her other hand to give him a gentle pat on the arm.
"Just a fingertip, John. I only need one drop of blood from you, and one from your brother." She gestured to Lyle with a friendly smile. John's grip loosened, not because he was any more trusting, but because he was reeling. A glance at Lyle saw that he was even more astounded, if possible.
"My What?"
[spoiler="
Evil Eye: Gathering Darkness]Brothers. The word had almost lost meaning for a moment. John and Lyle shared a lingering, confused look, forgetting Faye entirely for a moment. John tried to picture Lyle a few years older and 20 pounds heavier, not having shaved for a few days, and was surprised to see a lot of himself. How did he not notice their resemblance before? The look on Lyle's face told John that the other man - his brother, apparently - was coming to the same conclusion.
"You didn't know?" Faye asked, the small bowl and knife still set out before her.
"No," John answered for them both, "...how did you?"
Faye slid her hand across the table, taking John's hand in her own, "I knew you both before all of this started. I worked for your parents. Your real parents. The two of you have a lot to learn, but I think you need to see it for yourself," She turned John's hand palm up and picked up the knife slowly, carefully watching him. He didn't pull away, and so she quickly pricked his finger and let a drop of blood fall into the bowl of dark liquid. She did the same to Lyle, and handed them each a tissue.
"What do you see?" she asked.
John leaned forward and gazed down into the bowl. The liquid seemed to swirl and bubble, and soon blurs of color were appearing. Colors soon became people and places, and John said as much, "I see faces and buildings...". Lyle leaned forward with interest, gazing into the bowl as well, "Where?" he asked, confused.
Faye patted Lyle on the arm tenderly, "Don't worry about it, honey. You have different kinds of talents."
John was still transfixed on the bowl. The picture was gauzy, like a half-forgotten dream, but in it, he saw two young children, the older of the two still hardly more than a baby. He saw a gilded palace, a young and beautiful nursemaid who he instinctively knew was Faye. He saw two men and a woman, richly dressed. They laughed and talked, but their voices were little more than a buzz. Then he saw a gathering darkness, a shadow falling over the golden hall, and with it a sense of dread fell over John. He began to panic, unable to control his racing heart, and as he did the images in the bowl began to fade until he was looking into a stone bowl of dark liquid, and nothing more.
"It's alright, John," Faye said soothingly, "Scrying is a very rare and unwieldy talent. What did you see?". He described everything to her in as much detail as he could recall, and she said nothing until he was finished. "Those were glimpses of the past," she said when he was done, "You have no reason to believe me, but let me tell you a story, and we will see what you think. This is a story for you, too, Lyle.
Separated by a thin veil, there are two worlds. One belongs to the kingdoms of men, the other to the kingdoms of fairy folk. While the worlds of men grew apart and lost their kings, the fairies, ageless, celebrated the era of the Golden Empire, and of Emperor Soleri and his sons, two perfect young princes, the first children born to the fairies for many years."
Lyle gave a awestruck laugh, "We're brothers and princes?" He asked. John said nothing.
Faye held a finger up to her lips, and continued the story, "However, it is seldom that everyone is made happy. Deep in the twisting reaches of the fairy world, a man called Vanga was not happy. He believed it was time for a new era, his era, and he used dark powers to raise an army of nightmares. He laid siege to the Golden Palace. The Empire fell, and much blood was spilled. But not that of the two princes. The eldest was stolen away by a handmaid, the youngest by a loyal minister of the court, and both were taken to the human world to be hidden. But even now, their lives are in danger, for the dream and power of the Golden Empire lives on in them, and Vanga cannot rest until their bodies are laid at his feet."
"You were that handmaid," John said, matter-of-factly.
Faye nodded, "I brought you to this human world, but I was sure that if I kept you that we would be easily discovered. It was better for you to be raised as an orphan, unremarkable and easily overlooked."
"And so I was the one taken by the minister," Lyle said, his face flickering through so many emotions that it was almost comical, "My father... He is the minister, isn't he? No wonder he has always been so secretive."
Faye smiled sadly, "He is a good man to have kept watch over you all this time. A better guardian than me, at least."
Lyle turned to John with sudden urgentness, "We need to go back. I need to see him and apologize, and so many other things. And thank him. Especially that."
John nodded, but did not have time to respond before Faye spoke up. "I would like it very much if you bring me with you, your grace," she winked playfully at Lyle, "It will be good to see an old friend after such a long time here in the human world."
[spoiler="
Eagle Eye: Possibilities]The brothers did not set out for Lyle's home straight away, for two reasons: They had done nothing but travel for days, and they did not entirely trust Faye. While mistrust has been a part of Lyle's life for a while, John found his own skepticism oddly pragmatic, considering the vast number of unwise and asinine things he had done in his life.
They decided to spend at least one night in town, their choice of accommodation a single motel room with two beds. It could hardly be called the epitome of class and sophistication, which Lyle was not shy about pointing out, but John helpfully reminded Lyle that he hadn't been paid for his last job, yet. After that the quality of the room, or indeed the entire motel, didn't seem to be such an issue.
They hadn't spoken about the brother revelation at all, and John couldn't help but think that they were both intentionally avoiding it. They had talked about where to stay, what to have for dinner, whether vampires or werewolves were cooler, and even at length about the merits of various kinds of soda. When the conversation waned, they took their showers, had dinner, and watched hours upon hours of unremarkable television.
Now, the lights were off, and the two of them lay in their beds, ostensibly for sleep. John, however, stared at the ceiling, his mind racing. He had lived his whole life believing that he was alone in the world, and now he had suddenly gifted a brother. Not to mention the title of prince- Or was that king? He was the elder brother, after all. He toyed with that idea for a while, but it left a bitter taste in his mouth when he paused to consider what kind of kingdom would be left. John flopped around, tossing and turning, before eventually kicking the blankets off with a frustrated huff.
Lyle's voice came out of the darkness, a hint of laugher in it, "Some of us are trying to sleep in here."
"Sorry," John tried to lay still, and closed his eyes, but it did nothing to quiet his mind. He tried counting sheep, losing count several times, before eventually just trying to clear his mind like he had heard on some hot-yoga-organic-meditation show.
Lyle's voice came out of the darkness again, more solemn this time. "What do you think our real names are?"
It took John an embarrassingly long time to understand what Lyle meant, though he imagined it must have seemed like a long period of introspection before some sage answer. He couldn't help but think the answer would be a let down, "John and Lyle."
John could hear Lyle shifting around in bed, likely turning to face him. "Our dad's name was Soleri, and the bad guy's name is Vanga. You honestly think our real names are John and Lyle?"
This time, John's pause was for introspection. "Birth names? No. But John and Lyle are our real names. I feel like a John. I introduce myself as John."
"I've always hated Lyle," the younger man said.
There was a long, uncomfortable silence while the two of them sorted out their own thoughts. It was John who broke the quiet this time, "Do you think we should trust Faye?" Lyle said nothing for a while, and John couldn't help but wonder what he was thinking.
"No, but I do think we should take her with us," Lyle said, eventually, "The way I see it, we can take her with us and potentially be betrayed, or we can leave her here and lose and ally. But see, we've thought about it now. We can watch her carefully, and so we will have the upper hand."
John nodded, then realize the other man couldn't see him, so said "I think you're right," out loud, then "We should probably get some sleep."
Neither of them said anything else, and eventually John drifted off into an uneasy sleep.
[spoiler="
Blind Eye: The Road]Faye talked a lot. While John and Lyle drove mostly in comfortable silence, she was an entirely different kind of animal. It seemed every street sign reminded her of someone or some situation that required a rambling story, and so when they finally reached the edge of town, where the signs gave way to trees, John almost let out a sigh of relief. A quick glance at Lyle, who was rubbing his eyes tiredly with one hand, showed John that he was not alone.
The stream of stories began to wane immediately, now related to camping and seeing families of deer, and as the hours passed by, dawn turning to afternoon and then to dusk, they stopped entirely as Faye was lulled to sleep by the constant rumbling of the car. Lyle poked John in the arm to get the older man's attention, mouthing "oh my god" with an eye roll and a smile. "I know," John mouthed back.
Lyle pointed to the clock and mouthed something that John did not understand, and so he mouthed back "What?" in return. They repeated the exchange a few more times before John finally realized how stupid they were being, and just said "I don't know what you are saying," careful to keep his voice down, for fear of waking Faye.
"We're making pretty good time," Lyle said aloud, again gesturing to the clock. "Much faster than the train. We're not far from my dad's house."
"Oh, yeah," John agreed. "I swear I went into some kind of hypnosis or something, because I don't remember a thing about the trip. Maybe I blocked it out," John got a cheeky smile on his face, as something occurred to him, "Hey, did I ever tell you about a road trip that I went on when I was 15? I was heading to the riverside, but we all called it the beach, on account of the sand and that we were landlocked. We were going to have a barbeque, and Sam - his real name was Donald, but everyone called him Sam. We all had nicknames like that. Agnes went by Meg, and Johnny went by Budd... Where was I? Oh right, so Sam wanted fried onions on his burger. But we couldn't get white onions because of the war..." John trailed off with laughter.
Lyle gave John a sharp smack in the arm, but could not completely restrain his own amassment, and so he muffled himself until his fit of laughter had passed. He glanced back at Faye, who was still sleeping soundly, a bead of drool strung from her lips to her shirt.
When he turned back, he was surprised to see the city lights in the distance, and the mood in the car seemed to change immediately, the road trip having been a brief respite from the reality they had been unceremoniously thrust in to. John said nothing until they pulled up in front of Lyle's home, the elegant manor in which this whole convoluted mess had started. He put the car in park, and reached back to shake Faye awake.
She woke and gave the pair a bleary-eyed look before taking in her surroundings. "Oh, we're here?"
John took the keys out of the ignition slowly, then turned to Lyle with a smile that didn't quite reach his eyes. "You can Faye go on ahead. I'm sure she and your dad- Uh, the minister, have a lot to catch up on. I'll bring your stuff in." Lyle gave him an odd look, and for a moment they had a silent argument with only intense looks, before Lyle agreed. He and Faye made their way to the house together, and disappeared inside.
John popped the trunk, and took his time collecting Lyle's things. For some reason, he found himself feeling oddly out or sorts. At first, he had thought that he was just mourning the loss of a great adventure, then began to think maybe he was just feeling like a fifth-wheel at this heartfelt reunion, but no matter how he tried to justify his feelings of unease, they persisted.
He closed the trunk, then went around the car, making sure the doors were locked. As his hand grasped the passenger side door handle, a wave of disorientation washed over him, and suddenly, he wasn't beside the car anymore. He was inside the house, and there was blood, so much blood. Everything seemed to move in slow motion as he tried to get his bearings, to see who was injured and where, when a loud bang startled him. Just as suddenly he had been inside the house, he was now back beside the car, his hand still frozen on the door handle.
John didn't know what had happened, but he knew the bang had been real.
[spoiler="
Eye for an Eye: Omens]Lyle couldn't help but feel that John was acting oddly, but he eventually conceded to his brother an walked to the door with Faye, casting a glance back to watch at John popped the trunk and started collecting their things. Trying the door handle, it was locked, and so Lyle rang the bell. He glanced over at Faye who was still a bit bleary-eyed from her nap and smiled "Did you have a good sleep?"
It took her a long moment to realize she was being spoken to, and laughed a little when she finally replied, "Oh, yes, thank you. I had some odd dreams, though?" Her brows knitted a bit as she seemed to consider all the things, odd or not, that she had dreamt about.
Lyle smiled at her, "Yeah, dreams can be crazy sometimes. I once had a dream that I was being attacked by a sea monster, but I was a literal boat. I stopped eating right before bed after that one."
Faye laughed and gave him a one-armed hug, a motherly gesture that wasn't entirely welcome on Lyle's front, but he said nothing. "See, the problem with dreams for me," She began, already looking a bit more bright and awake, "Is that they are sometimes prophetic. It comes with being a seer, you see. The only problem is that they can sometimes be... really symbolic. Or what you think is a symbolic dream may just be nothing - like sea monsters and boats."
"What did you dream about?" Lyle asked, genuinely interested. He couldn't help but think that being a seer must be really interesting, and he wondered if John had ever had prophetic dreams that he didn't even notice. Realizing that no one had come to the door, Lyle peeked through the window, and though lights were on, he saw no movement within. He rang the bell twice more.
"It was about you, actually," she said with a smile, "You were being attacked by a polar bear."
Lyle couldn't help but laugh out loud, "So, what, I am going to get mauled by a bear?"
"Maybe," Faye said, jovially, "But I think you are being too literal. Symbolically, a bear can mean many things, and a being attacked by a bear many more. Generally, though, it means that there will be obstacles to overcome, and a polar bear specifically suggests that idea of realization or rebirth. So maybe you will be mauled by a bear, or maybe you will need to overcome tough times that help you to realize a truth, or maybe I was telling you a lot of camping stories before I feel asleep and a bear is just a bear. Do people live in this house?"
It took Lyle a moment to understand what she meant. "Yeah. My dad- Uh, the minister, must be out. Still... It's pretty late and he has a... man-servant butler kind of guy that would normally be around. Let's go around to the back. There is a hide-a-key for the back door," He lead her around the side of the house, peeking into e
[spoiler="
Private Eye: Arrival]It was a new city, and a new case, but everythingseemed oddly the same to John. It was the same dark,
cloudy night, the same rain fell, light but icy cold,
and he drew the same long coat tighter around himself.
Well, perhaps not exactly the same - The house he walked toward now was much nicer than the dives he usually got his work. It was an old home, a classic, but in good repair. The paving stones under foot had nary a weed between them, and when he knocked on the door with a gloved hand, it was the unmistakable sound of solid wood.
An older man soon answered, and John did his best to stand up straight and appear clean and friendly. "Mr. Lovell?" He asked, removing his hat and stepping into the foyer. The older man quickly replied "I am Mr. Gibbs. I am Mr. Lovell's gentleman. Please, let me show you to the sitting room - He will be with you shortly."
The sitting room was warm and comfortable, with snacks laid out, but John did not sit or eat; One could never be quite sure whom they were dealing with at these first meetings, and while his background check on Mr. Lovell revealed nothing, that didn't necessarily mean that there was nothing to be revealed. Soon, what could only have been Mr.Lovell entered the room. He was dressed simply, but richly, and his face was wrought with worry.
"I'm sorry to have kept you waiting, Mister...?"
"Just John, sir."
Mr. Lovell seemed a little off-put, but said nothing further on the subject. Instead, he sat in an overstuffed chair and absently snacked on a spinach puff. John had seen this before - People rarely new where to begin in this kind of situation, and so he started the conversation.
"I normally cater to a different kind of clientel, sir. How did you come to need my services? Did your wife run into a bit of trouble?"
"My son," Mr. Lovell said, smiling politely, but it didn't change the sadness in his eyes. "The last I heard from him, he was going to some kind of... bar downtown. They call it the Moon Unit."
John smirked at the name. Werewolves with a sense of humor, no doubt. Still, the Weres, wolf or otherwise, were normally a non-confrontational sort, especially those that had been living in a city for time enough to set up a local haunt of their own. "When was this?" John asked.
"Friday evening. He hadn't returned yet when I went to bed, but that wasn't so unusual. I began to get worried when I woke, and he still hadn't returned."
"I understand, sir. And his name?"
"Lyle."
Lyle Lovell? John couldn't help but smile. Perhaps the kid was friends with Bruce Banner and Peter Parker. He turned his back to the father, politely hiding his smile while also taking a moment to glance around the room. A few photos sat around, and he saw what must have been Lyle. He was an attractive young man, and John could practically see where this case was going already. He expected to find Lyle and some chick in a hotel, laying on a bed of his father's money.
"Thank you, sir," He said, taking on the photos out of it's frame carefully. "Do you mind if I take this?"
"No, please. Anything that will help."
John debated asking for more money. "I'll get to work straight away. Please call if you remember any detail that you think may help me."
[spoiler="
Watchful Eye: Red Tide]The funny thing about werewolves that, even when in their humanoid shape, you could always tell one when you saw one. Well, at least if you knew what you were looking for. They had a sort of savageness to them, a wildness to their eyes, and a certain musky smell. Another funny thing about werewolves is that they can tell that you are not one of them. Even at noon, the Moon Unit had several patrons, and they all turned to look at John with eyes full of that certain wildness when he entered. John tipped his hat politely, then made his way to the bar. The bartender was an older woman, with a thin, hard body. She made her way toward him cautiously, clearly not sure what to expect. "What can I get you?"
"Just a bit of information. Do you know who was tending bar Friday night?" John said.
The bartender, whose name tag declared her 'Irene', thought for a moment. "I was. I was covering for Oswald."
"Fantastic," John said, reaching for the photo of Lyle that he had in his coat. As he felt around his inside pocket, he spared a second to glance at the bar. It was a bit of a dive, honestly. Not the kind of place he would have picture a rich daddy's boy to party at. This place definitely wouldn't have been popular with anyone but its key demographic - Members of which were still sneaking wary glances at him over their mid-day beers. Finally finding the picture amidst his other papers, he slid it over the bar to Irene. "Do you know this kid?"
She studied the picture for a moment, then shrugged. "I see a lot of people. He has a pretty common face."
John laughed. "You would remember this one. He wasn't a Were." And at once the bar seemed to get quiet enough to hear a pin drop. Even the small corner TV seemed to hush itself. There was the scrape of a bar stool, and one of the patrons, a very large man, had gotten to his feet.
"I'm not a hunter." John said quickly. "You've got every right to your place here, it's none of my business-"
"No, it ain't." Said the large man.
"I've been hired by this boy's father. He's missing. I'm just looking for information." And though he wasn't a hunter, John was wishing that he had silver bullets. Or had just thought to wear running shoes, perhaps.
Irene waved the large man back into his seat, and while he did retreat a step or two, he did not sit. She took the picture in her hands, and considered it again. "He was here. He was a nice kid, but one of those thrill-seeker types. We get them from time to time - Kids who know what kind of bar this is, and want to party with Weres."
John smirked. "You can't blame them, the movies make it seem so much more interesting. Do you remember what time he left? Did he arrive or leave with anyone?"
"He left early," Irene said, "About one-thirty, I think. It must have been around there, because Late Talk was on and the musical guest was already playing. I remember he took off with another guy - I don't know if they arrived together, but he wasn't a Were, either. He had an odd look to him, though. You know what a mean?"
"Some sort of otherkin?" John ventured.
"Or a faerie, maybe. I don't meant to be racist, but I swear his eyes were red, and he smelled like the river. Might be a Red Cap."
John gave a bemused smile. "What does the river have to do with it?"
"You're definitely not a hunter. You'd be dead by now." Said a male voice. Not the large man, but a rail-thin, balding man sitting on the stool behind him. "Red Caps live in ruins. There are a ton of old warehouses by the river, and that's the closest thing to a ruin they would have in this city."
It was a thin lead, but it was better than nothing. "Thank you all very much." John said, taking back the picture of Lyle and seating himself at the bar. "I'll have a beer, thanks."
[spoiler="
Eye Catcher: Hidden]Comparing the warehouses near the river to ruins wasn't as much of an exaggeration as John thought. In a trendier city, they might have been converted to lofts long ago, but in this particular city, they had been left to rot. Some of the doors, in fact, had rotted off the hinges, and so it didn't take a lot of effort for John to shoulder them open. In some, he found musty piles of textiles that had never made it to sale, but in most he found rats. He was midway down the row of forgotten buildings, when he met a door that wouldn't budge. Though its hinges and locks were as rusted as the rest in the row, the wood had no give to it, and even when attempting to dramatically kick in the door, all John succeeded in doing was hurting his foot. He certainly couldn't leave it unexplored, that was for sure. The more considered the building, the more odd it seemed.
Limping into a narrow passage between two warehouses, he looked for a window. There were several, but they were all much to high on the wall, and so he continued around to the back of the building, where there was a parking lot full of weeds, and a small back door with a window beside it. It would have been far to lucky for the door to be unlocked, but John tried it anyway, and found that it was indeed locked. Peering through the window, it seemed to look into a small office, a calendar from several years before long abandoned on the wall. what lay in the rest of the warehouse could not be seen.
His foot still throbbing from his attempted forced entry on the front door, John decided that perhaps the simpler approach was best. There was no shortage of rocks or heaved bits of concrete in the parking lot, and so he took one and sent it through the window, reaching through to unlock the door. Entering, the building smelled like dust and mildew, and as his eyes adjusted, John saw that the picture inside the warehouse was odder than he could have imagined. It was packed full of things, and things was about the best way they could be described; He saw several bentbicycle frames, a dining room set, a broken rocking chair, and more piles of boxes and newspapers than one could hope to count in a lifetime, never mind at at glance. The further he explored, the more obvious it became that the stacks of junk were arranged into pathways, and hidden in the gloom somewhere, John swore he could hear voices.
It was not the first time John wished that he carried a gun, and it certainly wouldn't be the last, and so while he slowly made it way toward the voices, he pondered his life choices and looked through the junk for something that would at least leave a bruise. He found a bat once, and then later some kind of pipe, but both were so hopelessly lodged in their respective junk piles that it would have been impossible to remove them without making a racket. The muffled voices were just beyond a few twists and turns now, and so John practiced making fists, suddenly self-conscious about how he held his thumb when he did so.
The voices grew louder, and John came to what he could only assume was the final corner. He peeked around it gingerly, and found what awaited him even more bizarre than the piles of junk. It was a makeshift sitting room, with a sofa, a chair, and a small sideboard with an old-fashioned radio reciting the news. He saw no one. At least, he saw no one until he felt a sharp burst of pain in the side of his head and went reeling to the floor. It was a small man with bright red eyes, in his hands some sort of fire poker. He swung again, this time catching John in the arm as he raised it to protect himself. Now his arm and his head were aching, as well as his stupidly injured foot, and the sound of his heartbeat pounding in his ears nearly blocked out another voice yelling.
As the small man brought the poker down for another swing, another man, an oddly familiar man broke into John's field of vision, catching the blow awkwardly. "Wait!" he was yelling, and even more frantically "He's bleeding!". John barely had time to recognize the man's face before his world started to go black- it was Lyle Lovell.
[spoiler="
Eye Spy: Lost and Found]When John opened his eyes, the world was still swimming. He wouldn't have known that he had blacked out at all if the light filtering through the grimy warehouse windows hadn't taken on the golden hue of early evening. Glancing around himself, he was still on the floor in the makeshift sitting room, but a few things had changed: There was some kind of cushion under his head, and there was a dark jacket hung over the sofa next to a seated man. Oh, a man! John shot up, but was immediately struck with a wave of vertigo and found himself right back in his original position on the floor. "Welcome back, John." said the man on the sofa. Though his vision was still doubled, the two images came together for a moment into the shape of Lyle.
"You know my name?" John asked, sitting up again, this time slowly. Lyle smiled in an odd way. "I went through your stuff," he said, and for the first time, John realized the coat on the sofa was his. He looked down at the rest of him, and found the rest of his right where he expected it to be, though he was surprised to see his shirt dotted with blood. Then he remember the little man, and being hit in the head.
"So you and your little gremlin friend hit me in the head and strip me while I'm knocked out?" John quipped, one hand creeping up to gingerly feel his head. There was no lump or tenderness that he could find, and certainly not a cut. Lyle rose from the sofa and moved to John side, crouching beside him. "He's a redcap. And trust me, John, you're not pretty enough to go to the trouble of full nudity." He smiled charmingly, but it faded as he abruptly changed gears. "You're working for my dad."
John had no reason to lie. "Yes. He's worried about you. He sent me to find you." Lyle laughed, though John couldn't see anything funny about it. "Well, you've found me, though I wasn't lost." Said Lyle, "Don't take me back."
Flexing his arm, where he remembered being hit again as he fell to the floor, there was some stiffness, but no pain. Something wasn't right. He distinctly remembered the throbbing his his arm, the crack he swore her heard before he blacked out. "You're a grown man, Lyle. I can't take you anywhere." He tested his arm with his weight, then slowly got to his feet. His foot was still in pain, which he found somewhat comforting under the circumstances. Lyle rose with him, and followed him as he limped to the sofa to get his jacket. "Is my wallet still in here?"
"What? With your sweet ten dollars? No, John, that was too much to resist. I stole it and spent it on hookers. They just left. If only you had woken up sooner." Lyle rolled his eyes. "So you won't tell me father?"
"No, I said I wouldn't take you back. I am going to tell your father I found you, and I am going to tell him exactly where I found you." John shrugged on his coat, and felt around in the pockets. His wallet was there, though under inspection you could see that someone had been through it; All the cards were put back in the wrong places, and his loose change had been put into the zippered change pouch, rather than randomly strewn in the bill fold. "This is my job, Mr. Lovell."
Lyle pounced on that. "If it's about money, I can pay you to keep quiet. My shut-up money is just as green as my father's tell-me money." But John was not so easily swayed, "It's not just the money. I am under contract by your father, and I am going to do the honorable thing and fulfill my obligation to him."
"Well, what if you could keep your obligation to him? Just... Not yet. Like... Just pretend that you haven't seen me until next week. I don't know." John could see that Lyle was on the edge of tears. He knew that he should leave, but instead, John found himself sitting on the sofa, grateful to be off of his throbbing foot "Why is this so important to you, Mr. Lovell?"
Lyle's handsome face broke into a smile of relief, obviously understanding that he was gaining some ground. He wiped his misty eyes with the back of his hand, and perched himself on the sideboard. "Call me Lyle, John." He paused for a long moment. "What I am about to say is in the strictest confidence, John. If you decided to go back to my father, and you tell him what I am about to tell you, it will put both of us in danger. Us and Martin. That's the redcap. The guy that hit you. He went for a walk. He doesn't trust you-"
"Moving on." John prodded.
"Right," said Lyle, and he continued.
[spoiler="
Eye Do: Partnership]"I have reason to believe that I am a fairy." Lyle said, and John had to resist the urge to laugh out loud. He apparently didn't hide his smile completely, however, because Lyle became suddenly irate. "Are you serious, John? That's nice, very mature." John put his hands in the air as a sign of apology, and did his best to look contrite, though he still found the phrasing hilarious. "Why would you think that?"
Lyle was quiet for a moment. Emotions flashed across his face plainly, and John could tell that he was obviously trying to sort out some sort of inner turmoil. He felt bad for the fairy thing, now. Wetting his lips with his tongue nervously, Lyle began. "For as long as I can remember, I have had powers. Healing powers. It works out fine when you are a little kid and crashing on your bike is no big deal, but you start to get older, and you realize that no one else is like you. And it is scary. I was scared for a long time; I never told anyone, and once I learned that I was totally alone, I stopped using it. I pretended it didn't exist."
"But pretending something doesn't exist doesn't make it go away. In the back of my mind, I knew that this was eating away inside me. Soon I was an adult, in college, and I had been hiding part of myself for so long that I just felt empty. But then, I started hearing rumors. Obviously, you know the sort I am talking about - otherkin, fairy folk, vampires, werewolves-"
"Therianthropes," John corrected, interrupting. "There are more than wolves out there."
Lyle quirked an eyebrow at him. "Thank you, professor. Do you want to hear my story or not?"
John shrugged. "I can do without the detailed account of your life, really. I'm not your buddy. I just wanted to know why you don't want me to report to your father."
When Lyle spoke again, it was after a moment of silent frowning, and he was very terse. "Fine. I think I am some kind of fairy folk, and my father stole me. I do not know why, or where he took me from, but I want time to find out. I will pay you to keep your mouth shut." Then a sudden look came over his face as he had a spark of inspiration, "Better yet, how about I pay you to be my companion? I can keep an eye on you, you can keep an eye on me. And you can tell me tharithropods or whatever, since I am obviously really badly equipped on my own."
"Therianthropes." John corrected again. "What about your goblin friend? Like you said, he doesn't seem to care for me all that much."
"He's not coming. They don't like to leave their homes, and I don't know how far this is going to take me. They're a solitary people, so I really can't thank him enough for even letting me stay here," Still seated on the sideboard, Lyle stretched his legs, then his back. "This is going to sound dumb, John, but I feel like I can trust you. I have an odd feeling like you are the person I have been waiting for. You don't have to respond to that. I know it's weird. Just nod if you agree to the arrangement."
And, without much hesitation, John nodded.
[spoiler="
Eye to Eye: A New Beginning]If one were to ask him later, John would say he didn't know why he nodded, but that would be a lie. Truthfully, he knew exactly that Lyle meant when he said that they were meant to find eachother, though he couldn't explain the why of it; it wasn't as if his jokes had gone off particularly well and they were bonding over comedy.Still, there was some kind of connection there. John had seen too many things not to believe in kismet, and so he had to wonder if there was some great pre-destined story that he was starting. Or, for that matter, perhaps the story had already been going on for months without his notice. While he silently watched Lyle pack up a few things- clothes, mostly- into a plain messenger bag, John reflected on the story, the kind of protagonist he had been so far, and what was coming in the future. He hoped for romance, or at least debauchery of some sort.
Who was he kidding? If there was going to be any debauchery at all, it would definitely be focused on Lyle. The kid was absurdly handsome, with a soft way of speaking and a casualness that put you at ease. By contrast, even when trying to be nice, John constantly found ways to offend and inflame. Perhaps he needed to work on his delivery.
Lyle straightened up and took a final look around, checking for anything he was forgetting. Once he was satisfied, he turned around, and he and John locked eyes and held it for an uncomfortable moment. In John's case, he was carefully sizing up his new partner, wondering for that last time before they left whether this was the right thing. He could only imagine Lyle was thinking something similar.
John broke off the eye-contact first, choosing to look down at his feet, instead. "Where to, boss?"
"To the train station." Lyle said immediately.
[spoiler="
Evil Eye: Surprises]To give credit where credit was due, Lyle knew exactly where they were going, though John wasn't familiar with their destination, or with travel by trains in general. As far as John could tell, the only advantage to a private cabin was having a private washroom, though he thought cabin was an very euphemistic term for the closet he was sitting in. Still, it had a small TV, and talk-TV was just as good in a closet as it was in a mansion. Unfortunately, the chips he had paid a ridiculous nine dollars for didn't seem to taste any better than the average two dollar bag. But it was Lyle's money. Or rather, Lyle's father's money, and Lyle was being very generous with it. Nothing had cost John a dime. Even now, Lyle was off spending more of it in the dining car, another euphemistic term for a cafeteria on wheels. John couldn't imagine force-feeding himself some of that slop, but he imagined that for Lyle it was the act of defiance that filled his needs, and not the food.
The knock at the door was so unexpected that, at first, John thought it must have been a knock on a nearby door instead of his own. Only when it came again, more insistently with some jiggling of the knob, did he finally dust the crumbs off of his shirt and answer. It was Lyle.
"Forget your key?" John asked, moving the few feet back to his chair and falling into it gracelessly. Lyle entered the room, shutting the door behind him, but did not answer. John gave him a lingering glance; the other man didn't look quite himself. His face wasn't held in its normal, friendly way, and he stood in an odd, stoop-shouldered way. "Food didn't agree with you?"
Lyle remained oddly silent. He looked around the small room as if he were seeing it for the first time. He moved a little closer, watching the TV for a moment. "You angry with me?" John asked, unsure of what he could have done, but did not doubt he had managed to do something. Lyle didn't react to the question, only leaned over to the small TV built into the wall and turned the volume up until John could feel the vibrations in his bones.
"What the hell?" John shouted, reaching forward to turn it down again. Then Lyle lunged at him.
---
John had been right. The food in the dining car was terrible, but sitting at a table, having your lunch, while the countryside drifted by was definitely a unique experience. He had seen a few horses in a field, a derelict vintage car abandoned along a forgotten, dusty road, and a sign advertising fresh honey. He would need to remember to come back when he wasn't in the middle of character building journey.
He made his way down a noisy passage, back to the private cabin that he was sharing with John, wondering if judge-shows had made way to talk-shows, yet. John seemed to have the schedule for every single one memorized, which was as oddly charming as it was absurd. Only as he neared the door, did he realize that the noise he had noticed was the blaring of a TV within. He shook his head, a smile playing over his lips as he fished his key out.
He was surprised to find the door already unlocked; when he had left the room, John made a specific fuss about taking keys. "What was the point of that whole key drama?" Lyle said, pushing the door open and stepping inside.
It took Lyle a moment to process the scene. John lay on the floor within, unconscious and bleeding from a cut on the head. More blood dotted the floor. Suddenly, a figure flew out of the tiny bathroom, and the next thing Lyle processed was the feeling of himself hitting the wall hard.
[spoiler="
Bright-Eyed: A Double-Take]When his head hit the wall, Lyle's vision blurred and bloomed white. He struggled to regain his surroundings, as well as catch the breath that had been knocked out of him. The television was still blaring, every thump of the base in the music of whatever commercial was playing adding to the disorientation. "What did we have for dinner last night!?" The attacker asked, and Lyle became even more confused. His vision began to clear, and it was John he saw holding him to the wall. Lyle looked back to the heap of a man on the floor. It was still John as well. The standing-John shook Lyle hard, and repeated his question. "For dinner. Last night. What did we have?"
"Nothing!" Lyle said quickly. "We didn't have time because of your stupid shortcut."
Standing-John considered the reply for a moment."Beat it was on the radio," Lyle continued, "And you don't know the lyrics as well as you think you do."
Standing-John released him immediately. "I had to know that you were... Well, you." His eyes drifted over to the other John on the ground.
Lyle rubbed his head where it had hit the wall, feeling a bit of bump forming. "At least you got the upper hand this time. No offense, but you suck at fighting- Wait, how do I know you are you? That could be... you-you on the ground? What do you have hanging from your rear-view mirror?"
Standing-John replied without missing a beat. "Pretty Kitty-chan, but she came with the car."
The tension in the room dissipated almost immediately. They both turned to look at the John-clone on the floor, reserving their questions until John had closed the door, and Lyle had turned the TV off. The silence hung in the air, before Lyle broke it simply. "What the hell?"
"He's just knocked out. He's a Ringer." John said, out of breath, himself. "He came in here looking like you. Switched to me after he knocked me on my ass. Not sure why."
"We should tell someone. Security or something." Lyle said, deciding to reserve his questions and focus on practicality for a moment.
John laughed in spite of the situation. "Oh, yes. 'Hello sir, my evil twin has been causing us a bit of trouble. I would appreciate it if you would take him off our hands, but I don't really want to answer any questions about it. Watch out, he might try to become your evil twin and take your face off. Have a nice day!'."
Lyle had to concede that point. "So, what do we do?"
"We're going to have to get off at the next stop. Someone clearly doesn't like one of us. Or both of us." John said. He started gathering up their belongings haphazardly, jamming wallets and keys into the pockets of jackets indiscriminately.
"We're no where near our destination yet, John! We'll be getting off the in the mountains. It's going to be freezing cold." Lyle said, but even as he was speaking, he understood that there was no other choice. He took his jacket from John, and quickly threw it on, feeling in the pockets for his belongings. "You have my wallet, I think."
John fished around in his own pockets, and found that he indeed had two. Flipping the first open, he saw Lyle's identification and prepared to hand it over, when a shiny visa caught his eye. "Have you been using this card?"
"Yes." Lyle said.
"Is it connected to your father's?" Asked John.
"Yes." Lyle said again, this time a bit sheepishly.
An odd look came across John's face. "So he has known where you were the whole time. Why did he bother to send me after you?"
For that, neither of them had an answer.
[spoiler="
Eye Candy: Questions]The sun had set by the time the train arrived at the next platform, and after it had pulled away, John and Lyle were left alone in the dark and cold. The ticket office was closed, but a small enclosed seating area gave them respite from the chill. They hadn't spoken about their discovery on the train, now worried about how many ears could listen in, or had been listening in. Now that they were free to discuss the issue, John drew it out a moment longer by succumbing to the welcoming glow of a vending machine. When he sat down, it was with a bag of chips and a sigh.
"Chip?" He said, too casually, shaking the bag in Lyle's face.
Lyle swatted the bag away angrily, spilling some of the contents onto the floor, and started pacing. "Are you kidding me, John? This is serious! I thought my "father" was some lonely, misguided sad, sad man, stealing babies. Now he sends someone to kill me? Or kill you? I don't even understand, he sent you to-"
The words caught in Lyle's throat as the thought struck him. "He sent you. Why would he send someone else to try and kill you? I've already agreed to let you take me back once this is done."
"Maybe he didn't send anyone?" John said, looking sadly at the poor, victimized chips on the floor. "What is the five-second rule for train station floors?"
"Then, how, John!?" Lyle snapped, his face getting red with a mixture of anger and embarrassment, "There are only two people who know where I am- him, thanks to the credit card, and you! I can't believe I let you fool me-"
John put up his hands defensively, "Whoa there, the body double we ditched on the train attacked -me-, remember!"
"Is that supposed to prove that you two aren't working together? Because, honestly John, sometimes I want to punch you in the face! And not just when I think you are a shady, spying bastard!"
John shifted uneasily in his chair, but otherwise did not react. He ate a few chips in silence, and when he spoke again, it was with his usual casual, deliberate tone. "I think you're focusing in the wrong place, Lyle. You can make guesses all you want, but these are the facts. Your father hired me to find you when he knew exactly where you were the whole time."
Lyle was still fuming. "So you and your friend from the train could kill me!"
John shook his head, wearing a bemused expression. "Why all the effort? You've been his son, stolen or otherwise, for... 21? 22? years. If he wanted to kill you, he would have done it before. What are you trying to feed me, here? That your father, overcome with a sudden and inexplicable murderous rage, waited for you to go missing under werewolfish circumstances so he could hire two thugs, one of which would pretend to be a paranormal investigator and gain your trust for... What purpose?."
"I don't know!" Lyle shouted, with some uncertainty.
"I think, if we should be considering any question," John continued, "it should be why your father wanted us to be together so badly? Not that I don't appreciate your company, but you have to admit it's a peculiar turn of events."
Lyle's anger was waning now. "What about the guy on the train?"
"To be fair, we don't know if that was actually a guy," John corrected, "But it seems to me that what we have there is a separate, but not necessarily unrelated, situation."
"Related how?" Lyle asked, and John just shrugged in response. Lyle took a moment to process everything that had been said, and while he still wasn't sure he was ready to fully trust the other man again, John had made some very compelling arguments. "What now?"
John spent a moment chewing in contemplation. "Where were we headed on that train?"
"There is a city called Stemmenford. Martin - the redcap from the warehouse- said that there is a large population of faerie folk there. He said it would be a good place to find information."
John considered the information. "Let's go there, but this time, let's drive. And we'll rent the car on my credit card."
[spoiler="
Naked Eye: Revelations]It was a long, boring drive. John's eyes had begun to swim hours ago with the glow of the streetlights, and the breaking dawn was no better. He steered one handed for a moment, rubbing his eyes furiously, then rolled the window down to let a blast of cold, fresh air clear his head. Outside, the world was covered in a thin crust of ice. Even in the glow of the rising sun, everything had a desaturated, milky quality that suggested it might snow later.Asleep in the passenger seat, Lyle shivered at the burst of freezing air, and began to stir. He opened his eyes blearily, wincing at the dawn light, and covered his face with his arm. "You were supposed to wake me up to switch," he said groggily. After a moment he sat up and looked around, "Where are we?"
"We're just outside of Stemmenford," John replied, "I was waiting until breakfast to wake you." As if on queue, a few houses and business began to appear and the trees started the thin, marking the edges of the town. It was only a few more minutes before the open sign of a strip mall diner caught John's eye, and he pulled into the parking lot. "Can I treat you to something healthy and enriched with vitamins?"
Lyle rolled his eyes and climbed out the car, taking a moment to stretch after such a long drive. John soon joined him, and the two of them entered the diner. There was a surprising crowd for the early hour. Judging on appearances only, John suspected that many of them were truckers of one kind of another. He did not recall seeing and trucks outside, but perhaps there was lot nearby. The pair of them took a booth, and waited for someone to bring menus. "So, where do we go after this?" John asked, looking passively around.
"I was told to find someone called Faye," Lyle said. "I know, funny right?" John couldn't help but smile
A portly, stern-faced waitress mad her way to the table. She set down two menus unceremoniously, without even sparing a second glance at them. "The special this morning is the Country Breakfast, two eggs, two sausage, two bacon, hashbrowns, and your choice of toast."
John nodded politely. "I think we'll need a minute," he said, "Can I get a cup of coffee, though? Thanks..." he searched for her name tag, and the words caught in his throat for a moment, "Faye."
Lyle's head snapped up from the menu so quickly that it was noticeable, and Faye gave them an odd look. For the first time, she was really looking at them, and what could only be recognition came over her face. "Well, damn! I wasn't expecting the two of you for a few more days. John and Lyle shared an uneasy look, which caused Faye to laugh boisterously. "We'll talk after the breakfast rush, boys."
It couldn't have been more than a hour and a half before the early morning crowd had mostly cleared out, but the time seemed to drag on for John and Lyle. They ate their breakfast in a daze and made idle chit-chat, but their minds were elsewhere. Finally, Faye came to clear their plates. "You boys follow me back,' she said, gathering up their plates and cups and turning toward the kitchen.
John was understandably wary. As they made their way to the back, he took inventory of things that could be used as weapons if things turned bad, but there honestly wasn't much. Some of the wood-carvings hung on the wall as decor might be heavy enough to cause a bit of damage, at least. Entering the kitchen, they drew a bit of attention from the cook, but not as much as John would have expected.
Faye set their dishes beside a stainless steel sink, then gestured them toward a back office, as small as it was unremarkable and generic. She pushed the door closed and waited for it to click shut before saying, "Do you believe in fate?"
"Yes," Lyle said immediately, but John wasn't sure what to say. He finally settled on, "I am open to the concept of predestination."
Faye laughed at John's safe choice of words, and went to sit behind the small office desk, stacked with papers and ledgers. There was only one guest chair. John let Lyle take it - He would rather be standing in case something was about to happen.
"You two have a very special destiny," Faye continued. She pulled a small stone bowl out of the the desk drawer and set it on the desk top. Inside was some dark liquid, smooth as glass and undisturbed by the movements of the bowl. The next thing she pulled out was a knife. Not going to be caught off guard again, John grabbed her hand quickly, keeping it and the knife pinned to the desk.
She laughed again, "Oh, John, you need to relax,". It occurred to John that he hadn't mentioned his name. She seemed to understand his realization, and uses her other hand to give him a gentle pat on the arm.
"Just a fingertip, John. I only need one drop of blood from you, and one from your brother." She gestured to Lyle with a friendly smile. John's grip loosened, not because he was any more trusting, but because he was reeling. A glance at Lyle saw that he was even more astounded, if possible.
"My What?"
[spoiler="
Evil Eye: Gathering Darkness]Brothers. The word had almost lost meaning for a moment. John and Lyle shared a lingering, confused look, forgetting Faye entirely for a moment. John tried to picture Lyle a few years older and 20 pounds heavier, not having shaved for a few days, and was surprised to see a lot of himself. How did he not notice their resemblance before? The look on Lyle's face told John that the other man - his brother, apparently - was coming to the same conclusion."You didn't know?" Faye asked, the small bowl and knife still set out before her.
"No," John answered for them both, "...how did you?"
Faye slid her hand across the table, taking John's hand in her own, "I knew you both before all of this started. I worked for your parents. Your real parents. The two of you have a lot to learn, but I think you need to see it for yourself," She turned John's hand palm up and picked up the knife slowly, carefully watching him. He didn't pull away, and so she quickly pricked his finger and let a drop of blood fall into the bowl of dark liquid. She did the same to Lyle, and handed them each a tissue.
"What do you see?" she asked.
John leaned forward and gazed down into the bowl. The liquid seemed to swirl and bubble, and soon blurs of color were appearing. Colors soon became people and places, and John said as much, "I see faces and buildings...". Lyle leaned forward with interest, gazing into the bowl as well, "Where?" he asked, confused.
Faye patted Lyle on the arm tenderly, "Don't worry about it, honey. You have different kinds of talents."
John was still transfixed on the bowl. The picture was gauzy, like a half-forgotten dream, but in it, he saw two young children, the older of the two still hardly more than a baby. He saw a gilded palace, a young and beautiful nursemaid who he instinctively knew was Faye. He saw two men and a woman, richly dressed. They laughed and talked, but their voices were little more than a buzz. Then he saw a gathering darkness, a shadow falling over the golden hall, and with it a sense of dread fell over John. He began to panic, unable to control his racing heart, and as he did the images in the bowl began to fade until he was looking into a stone bowl of dark liquid, and nothing more.
"It's alright, John," Faye said soothingly, "Scrying is a very rare and unwieldy talent. What did you see?". He described everything to her in as much detail as he could recall, and she said nothing until he was finished. "Those were glimpses of the past," she said when he was done, "You have no reason to believe me, but let me tell you a story, and we will see what you think. This is a story for you, too, Lyle.
Separated by a thin veil, there are two worlds. One belongs to the kingdoms of men, the other to the kingdoms of fairy folk. While the worlds of men grew apart and lost their kings, the fairies, ageless, celebrated the era of the Golden Empire, and of Emperor Soleri and his sons, two perfect young princes, the first children born to the fairies for many years."
Lyle gave a awestruck laugh, "We're brothers and princes?" He asked. John said nothing.
Faye held a finger up to her lips, and continued the story, "However, it is seldom that everyone is made happy. Deep in the twisting reaches of the fairy world, a man called Vanga was not happy. He believed it was time for a new era, his era, and he used dark powers to raise an army of nightmares. He laid siege to the Golden Palace. The Empire fell, and much blood was spilled. But not that of the two princes. The eldest was stolen away by a handmaid, the youngest by a loyal minister of the court, and both were taken to the human world to be hidden. But even now, their lives are in danger, for the dream and power of the Golden Empire lives on in them, and Vanga cannot rest until their bodies are laid at his feet."
"You were that handmaid," John said, matter-of-factly.
Faye nodded, "I brought you to this human world, but I was sure that if I kept you that we would be easily discovered. It was better for you to be raised as an orphan, unremarkable and easily overlooked."
"And so I was the one taken by the minister," Lyle said, his face flickering through so many emotions that it was almost comical, "My father... He is the minister, isn't he? No wonder he has always been so secretive."
Faye smiled sadly, "He is a good man to have kept watch over you all this time. A better guardian than me, at least."
Lyle turned to John with sudden urgentness, "We need to go back. I need to see him and apologize, and so many other things. And thank him. Especially that."
John nodded, but did not have time to respond before Faye spoke up. "I would like it very much if you bring me with you, your grace," she winked playfully at Lyle, "It will be good to see an old friend after such a long time here in the human world."
[spoiler="
Eagle Eye: Possibilities]The brothers did not set out for Lyle's home straight away, for two reasons: They had done nothing but travel for days, and they did not entirely trust Faye. While mistrust has been a part of Lyle's life for a while, John found his own skepticism oddly pragmatic, considering the vast number of unwise and asinine things he had done in his life.They decided to spend at least one night in town, their choice of accommodation a single motel room with two beds. It could hardly be called the epitome of class and sophistication, which Lyle was not shy about pointing out, but John helpfully reminded Lyle that he hadn't been paid for his last job, yet. After that the quality of the room, or indeed the entire motel, didn't seem to be such an issue.
They hadn't spoken about the brother revelation at all, and John couldn't help but think that they were both intentionally avoiding it. They had talked about where to stay, what to have for dinner, whether vampires or werewolves were cooler, and even at length about the merits of various kinds of soda. When the conversation waned, they took their showers, had dinner, and watched hours upon hours of unremarkable television.
Now, the lights were off, and the two of them lay in their beds, ostensibly for sleep. John, however, stared at the ceiling, his mind racing. He had lived his whole life believing that he was alone in the world, and now he had suddenly gifted a brother. Not to mention the title of prince- Or was that king? He was the elder brother, after all. He toyed with that idea for a while, but it left a bitter taste in his mouth when he paused to consider what kind of kingdom would be left. John flopped around, tossing and turning, before eventually kicking the blankets off with a frustrated huff.
Lyle's voice came out of the darkness, a hint of laugher in it, "Some of us are trying to sleep in here."
"Sorry," John tried to lay still, and closed his eyes, but it did nothing to quiet his mind. He tried counting sheep, losing count several times, before eventually just trying to clear his mind like he had heard on some hot-yoga-organic-meditation show.
Lyle's voice came out of the darkness again, more solemn this time. "What do you think our real names are?"
It took John an embarrassingly long time to understand what Lyle meant, though he imagined it must have seemed like a long period of introspection before some sage answer. He couldn't help but think the answer would be a let down, "John and Lyle."
John could hear Lyle shifting around in bed, likely turning to face him. "Our dad's name was Soleri, and the bad guy's name is Vanga. You honestly think our real names are John and Lyle?"
This time, John's pause was for introspection. "Birth names? No. But John and Lyle are our real names. I feel like a John. I introduce myself as John."
"I've always hated Lyle," the younger man said.
There was a long, uncomfortable silence while the two of them sorted out their own thoughts. It was John who broke the quiet this time, "Do you think we should trust Faye?" Lyle said nothing for a while, and John couldn't help but wonder what he was thinking.
"No, but I do think we should take her with us," Lyle said, eventually, "The way I see it, we can take her with us and potentially be betrayed, or we can leave her here and lose and ally. But see, we've thought about it now. We can watch her carefully, and so we will have the upper hand."
John nodded, then realize the other man couldn't see him, so said "I think you're right," out loud, then "We should probably get some sleep."
Neither of them said anything else, and eventually John drifted off into an uneasy sleep.
[spoiler="
Blind Eye: The Road]Faye talked a lot. While John and Lyle drove mostly in comfortable silence, she was an entirely different kind of animal. It seemed every street sign reminded her of someone or some situation that required a rambling story, and so when they finally reached the edge of town, where the signs gave way to trees, John almost let out a sigh of relief. A quick glance at Lyle, who was rubbing his eyes tiredly with one hand, showed John that he was not alone.The stream of stories began to wane immediately, now related to camping and seeing families of deer, and as the hours passed by, dawn turning to afternoon and then to dusk, they stopped entirely as Faye was lulled to sleep by the constant rumbling of the car. Lyle poked John in the arm to get the older man's attention, mouthing "oh my god" with an eye roll and a smile. "I know," John mouthed back.
Lyle pointed to the clock and mouthed something that John did not understand, and so he mouthed back "What?" in return. They repeated the exchange a few more times before John finally realized how stupid they were being, and just said "I don't know what you are saying," careful to keep his voice down, for fear of waking Faye.
"We're making pretty good time," Lyle said aloud, again gesturing to the clock. "Much faster than the train. We're not far from my dad's house."
"Oh, yeah," John agreed. "I swear I went into some kind of hypnosis or something, because I don't remember a thing about the trip. Maybe I blocked it out," John got a cheeky smile on his face, as something occurred to him, "Hey, did I ever tell you about a road trip that I went on when I was 15? I was heading to the riverside, but we all called it the beach, on account of the sand and that we were landlocked. We were going to have a barbeque, and Sam - his real name was Donald, but everyone called him Sam. We all had nicknames like that. Agnes went by Meg, and Johnny went by Budd... Where was I? Oh right, so Sam wanted fried onions on his burger. But we couldn't get white onions because of the war..." John trailed off with laughter.
Lyle gave John a sharp smack in the arm, but could not completely restrain his own amassment, and so he muffled himself until his fit of laughter had passed. He glanced back at Faye, who was still sleeping soundly, a bead of drool strung from her lips to her shirt.
When he turned back, he was surprised to see the city lights in the distance, and the mood in the car seemed to change immediately, the road trip having been a brief respite from the reality they had been unceremoniously thrust in to. John said nothing until they pulled up in front of Lyle's home, the elegant manor in which this whole convoluted mess had started. He put the car in park, and reached back to shake Faye awake.
She woke and gave the pair a bleary-eyed look before taking in her surroundings. "Oh, we're here?"
John took the keys out of the ignition slowly, then turned to Lyle with a smile that didn't quite reach his eyes. "You can Faye go on ahead. I'm sure she and your dad- Uh, the minister, have a lot to catch up on. I'll bring your stuff in." Lyle gave him an odd look, and for a moment they had a silent argument with only intense looks, before Lyle agreed. He and Faye made their way to the house together, and disappeared inside.
John popped the trunk, and took his time collecting Lyle's things. For some reason, he found himself feeling oddly out or sorts. At first, he had thought that he was just mourning the loss of a great adventure, then began to think maybe he was just feeling like a fifth-wheel at this heartfelt reunion, but no matter how he tried to justify his feelings of unease, they persisted.
He closed the trunk, then went around the car, making sure the doors were locked. As his hand grasped the passenger side door handle, a wave of disorientation washed over him, and suddenly, he wasn't beside the car anymore. He was inside the house, and there was blood, so much blood. Everything seemed to move in slow motion as he tried to get his bearings, to see who was injured and where, when a loud bang startled him. Just as suddenly he had been inside the house, he was now back beside the car, his hand still frozen on the door handle.
John didn't know what had happened, but he knew the bang had been real.
[spoiler="
Eye for an Eye: Omens]Lyle couldn't help but feel that John was acting oddly, but he eventually conceded to his brother an walked to the door with Faye, casting a glance back to watch at John popped the trunk and started collecting their things. Trying the door handle, it was locked, and so Lyle rang the bell. He glanced over at Faye who was still a bit bleary-eyed from her nap and smiled "Did you have a good sleep?"It took her a long moment to realize she was being spoken to, and laughed a little when she finally replied, "Oh, yes, thank you. I had some odd dreams, though?" Her brows knitted a bit as she seemed to consider all the things, odd or not, that she had dreamt about.
Lyle smiled at her, "Yeah, dreams can be crazy sometimes. I once had a dream that I was being attacked by a sea monster, but I was a literal boat. I stopped eating right before bed after that one."
Faye laughed and gave him a one-armed hug, a motherly gesture that wasn't entirely welcome on Lyle's front, but he said nothing. "See, the problem with dreams for me," She began, already looking a bit more bright and awake, "Is that they are sometimes prophetic. It comes with being a seer, you see. The only problem is that they can sometimes be... really symbolic. Or what you think is a symbolic dream may just be nothing - like sea monsters and boats."
"What did you dream about?" Lyle asked, genuinely interested. He couldn't help but think that being a seer must be really interesting, and he wondered if John had ever had prophetic dreams that he didn't even notice. Realizing that no one had come to the door, Lyle peeked through the window, and though lights were on, he saw no movement within. He rang the bell twice more.
"It was about you, actually," she said with a smile, "You were being attacked by a polar bear."
Lyle couldn't help but laugh out loud, "So, what, I am going to get mauled by a bear?"
"Maybe," Faye said, jovially, "But I think you are being too literal. Symbolically, a bear can mean many things, and a being attacked by a bear many more. Generally, though, it means that there will be obstacles to overcome, and a polar bear specifically suggests that idea of realization or rebirth. So maybe you will be mauled by a bear, or maybe you will need to overcome tough times that help you to realize a truth, or maybe I was telling you a lot of camping stories before I feel asleep and a bear is just a bear. Do people live in this house?"
It took Lyle a moment to understand what she meant. "Yeah. My dad- Uh, the minister, must be out. Still... It's pretty late and he has a... man-servant butler kind of guy that would normally be around. Let's go around to the back. There is a hide-a-key for the back door," He lead her around the side of the house, peeking into e
Pet Treasure
Little Black Book
Eye Spy: Lost and Found
Private Eye: Arrival
Watchful Eye: Red Tide
Naked Eye: Revelations