Springing the Trap

Walking through the streets of the Nightside, we stay close together, weaving around barkers crying their wares, drunks celebrating the party that never ends, and the endless lures and come-ons of the bars and nightclubs. It takes a bit of time, but eventually we reach the offices of the Night Times; a great, grey house, huge in its dimensions and tattered at the edges. The gargoyles over the door eye us as we knock.
The door leads into a foyer where, in a cubicle of bullet-proof glass surrounded by a softly glowing pentacle, an older lady of comfortable girth sits, happily knitting. She looks up, smiling at us benevolently. "Hello dears. And what can I do for you today?" she asks, her Scottish accent warm and a little creaky.
"We would like to speak with Julian Advent. I was told to come to him if I ever had any ," I bluff, pulling out his card, "and what we have is more than news. It is a thing that will shake the Nightside."
The woman smiles a little wider, wide enough that I can see that her teeth are filed to points.
"Well well. If I could just see the card..."
I place it in the slot in the glass. For a moment, she examines it, and then nods. "I'll get someone to take you up to the bullpen, ducks. After that, you're on your own."

I smile at the lady "thankyou Ma'am," Liam makes a slight incline of his head, then looks at ignacy "behave this man does have the resources to crush you"

i look around myself unimpressed "let him try many have before him and few have suceeded".

Ahead of us, the steel door of an elevator snaps open, and our group piles in. The elevator doors open again on a wide, plain entry room, the walls hung with front pages of past papers under glass. At the end of the room is a solid silver door, covered in a crazed assortment of runes, sigils and spells that make the hair along my spine stand on end. Emblazoned over it are the words 'All The News, Damn It." I'm about to point this out when the door grudgingly opens.
The noise that comes through is like a flood in spring, like thunder. The long room is full of the smell of cigar smoke, stale coffee, paper and sweat, and rampant with noise as typewriters clatter, phones ring and people shout to each other. I brace myself as we enter. Men and women cross the room at a jog, handing off piles of paper, and reporters sit beavering away at their desks. Their heads are kaleidoscopes of emotion: anger, pleasure, stress, focused attention, all pulsing bright and hot as neon signs. A few people look around, look us over, and turn back to their work. It looks like this isn't the place for water-cooler conversations.
A small whirlwind comes flying up the aisle, filled with papers twirling about inside it. "Ello ello ello! You the lot that wants to give the gaffer some news? Come along then, up this way, I think he's in the mood to see you."
We pass desks groaning with piles of books, mountains of paper, magical and high tech apparatus. Young journalists brush by us, completely focused, and we pass a circle of silence where people sit with crystal balls, wax effigies, telephones and radios. A goblin drag queen grins up at us from his seat, then looks back at his horoscope chart, pulling the strap of his red cocktail dress back into place. On the left a typewriter clacks with nobody at it.
Ahead of us is a cubicle of glass, and sitting inside it is a wiry, pale man with dark hair, almost unbelievably handsome in a Victorian way. He glances up from his paperwork, and smiles. Standing, he opens the door of the office. " Good to see you, miss. And you've brought friends as well. Do come in. Thank you Otto, you may go."
Julien Advent closes the door firmly as the whirlwind whips away. There's only one chair in front of the desk; the six of us stay standing. Advent moves with a grace that makes me wonder if he's all together human, and slips behind his desk. Clad in stark black and white, with a red cravat at his throat, he exudes a grace and charm that makes him instantly likeable, if a little intimidating.
"So, what can I do for you today?" he asks, straightening his papers. I glance at Djhuety. He nods to me. I draw a breath. I am the storyteller here after all.
"Actually, we have something for you, Mr. Advent. We have a story that your paper will shake the Nightside by telling."
The man quirks one picturesque brow."Really. It takes quite a bit to shake a place like the Nightside, you know."
I smile very slightly. "I think this story will do it. This tale begins in the halls of the High Courts of the Fae." And so I lay out the story of Djhuety's family and the men who hunt them, down to the present day. When I finish, there's a long moment of silence. Julien Advent steeples his fingers. "A very interesting tale. But what, exactly,makes this news? The Nightside has legendary lineages like a dog has fleas."
I smile, and my smile is grim as I pull forth the sheaf of papers and drop it down on his desk. "This makes it news."
Slowly, with a wary look at us, Julien Advent flips the pages. His brows rise higher and higher as he reads.
"My my..... Uptown Taffy Lewis, Max Maxwell, Zog of the Pixies, Sandra Chance. Marty Devor. Mr. Blood and Mr. Bones. Even the Lord of Tears and the Smoke ghost." He settles the papers, and looks up at us with a grim smile, fire in his eyes. "Yes, I think this does indeed make it news. Yes indeed."
Gettlng to his feet, he opens the door and shouts into the tumult, "Reeves, Cathy, Argus, in here now. Big story!"
Then he turns, looking us over. "Well, you've brought us quite a story; usually some compensation is in order. We can pay ten thousand, unless you prefer to work out a non-monetary payment?" He quirks a brow. "We're flexible, up to a point."

" My personal view is that if we take 9,000 we can divide it better. that and keep our names out of the article, or any related ones." Liam starts slowly. " Unless you lot object" I am silently praying that the old adventurer doesn't recognize me, a second article is the last bloody thing we need

"Of course, keeping your name out of the press goes without saying," Julien says, "If you all agree with the terms of payment..." he looks us over. Lily opens her mouth to say something, but I step hard on her foot and she falls silent with a squeak. "That's well enough by us." I say, nodding.

"Thankyou Mister Advent, It is Appreciated." I smile, keeping my gaze on Mr Advent in case of any clues, I had heard he embodied all the was humanly good, unfortunately i am not sure i believe it.

Julien Advent smiles, pulls a checkbook from his drawer, and writes for a moment with a fountain pen. Ripping out the check with a flourish, he hands it to Djhutey. "Your story will be published in the next issue. And unless I miss my guess, that will be the end of your unpleasant pursuers."
I catch the man's dark eyes. "There's one thing we need from you."
"And that would be?"
"A promise." I say loudly. "Use your paper. Tear the people who signed this down. Destroy them. They need to pay for what they did."
For a long moment, Julien Advent stares at me. Then he smiles slightly. "Well. Unfortunately many of these men are Major Players; they'll probably wriggle out of it. But for a few of these names, this will be the end of the road. And for the rest, well, they'll regret it for quite a bit. I'll make sure of that. On that you have my word."
I smile. "Well enough, then."

"I wont know what to do with myself without them," I shrug, folding the check and slipping it into a pocket. "Got a job for a world weaver?"

At that, Julien chuckles. "Only if you can type four hundred words in under twenty minutes and get news out of a hard-case Nightsider, I'm afraid."

"how about if we find anything else of value we just make sure we get it to you." I look at dejhuty " I wouldn't want you to write the news if you read it out loud in a bad mood we would all be screwed like Ignacy nearly was"

Sighing, I shake my head as Lily giggles, "Well, at any rate, be kind if I ever end up in the broad sheet. I doubt I can stay out of trouble that long here." I turn to the others, "Shall we go?"

Out on the street once more, I take a deep breath, grinning. "The next issue comes out in four hours. I say we celebrate, and then we go get ourselves a copy."
Four hours later, happy and a little bleary, everyone circles round as I read aloud.
"Crime of Decades," I declare, reading out the headline, then launch into the story, embellishing the already deeply lurid story with my voice, reading every detail out with rich tones and satisfaction.
"The Authorities have put their best men to the task of hunting down these criminals." I finish, closing down the paper with a flourish and flopping it down on the table. Grinning, I raise my glass. "To justice given!"

" to Vengence Served" I raise my glass smirking "at long last"

I nod absently. "If Walker has been shifted to my case, who they going to give that gash through downtown?" I muse, twisting my bottle.

I take another deep draft of my scotch. "His problem not ours!" I say happily, "Our only task tonight is to celebrate...and to get in touch with your grandmother at some point of course. She'll be glad of this news."

"Knowing how our luck has been going? it will end up falling on us." I take a long pull of my drink "we draw more trouble then John Taylor at this rate, just smaller trouble." then looking between Liv and Dejhuty " wouldn't it be good for you to let your holt know that things are getting better too? not just his grandmother?"

I shrug. "They don't expect to see me so often as that. They trust me to my own devices. And stop being so pessimistic lad! Tonight's a night for celebration." I glance at Djhuety, who's quietly sipping his drink, the colors in his head muted. "Isn't it?" I ask him, nudging him a little.

"The mood doesn't feel right to me... too much to think about." I pause and stare out the high window where a dim corner of the moon hangs, seemingly just beyond reach. "I'll take care of telling my grandmother. Got to re-prioritize my life anyway; Her barrow is as good a place as any to sort things." I pick up my bottle and take a heavy draft as Lily prickles a little at my words.

"Re-prioritize how?" An eyebrow crooks in my direction as the gaze beneath narrows. "Sounds a lot like a farewell to me, Lambkin."

I sit mutely and shrug

my own gaze gets a little intense "Dejhuty, Look me in the eye" I will wait calmly for him to do so "And promise, by both your bloodlines that you are returning after you re-prioritize and figure out what you need." I glance between Liv and Lilly "other then the two girls wanting you back i would call you brother, and that is no lite thing to say"

I look down from the pane of glass into Liam's eyes, and seeing them attempting to burn a hole in the back of my skull, I close my own and lean back in my seat. "I'm truly honored; and if its in my power, I'll be back. But I will not swear. I have enough awareness of my powers to know that it my pull me back before I'm ready." I look around at faces etched with concern, fear, and a twinge of betrayal. "I didn't say I was leaving now, did I?"

I nod " good enough, if you take to long forget the oath i will find you myself" it is part warning part threat " I don't want to deal with moping, I did it long enough "I smirk returnign to my drink

"You're our kith, Djhuety. Don't promise, if you feel you can't. Tend to your heart and set it right. But do come back. Otherwise it'll be quite dull around here." I catch his eyes, and smile, laying a hand on his. "And besides, I need somebody else to help keep these mad Scandinavians in check."

I smile, "I doubt it will be to dull, mother dear. You have Ignacy and Lily to look after." Lily pulls a face behind Liv's back at my words.

I roll my eyes. "Oh thanks. That really brightens my horizons. By the way, Lily, if you don't give back the wallet of the man who just passed our table I will, and believe me I will, turn you into something you won't like." I meet her eyes. "Yes, I can see you, even when you move as fast as you do."