Prime Real Estate

Tricksey leaves a pistol by the bedside, taking one for herself. Most of the money she leaves behind, taking enough to get by for the morning.

Once ready, she ventures into the cold - locking the nest behind her.

Tricksey finds a boutique property rental place online, and manages to talk her way into renting a place for a month, because her home was damaged in the storm.

The newspapers and television are full of stories of the freak weather conditions that caused the abandoned hospital to have a gas explosion. The more 'fringe' elements are concerned that such a thing could go uninvestigated, but the rest of them assume it's a matter of money being passed around. The odd thing is that no one is sure whose money is driving matters.

The hospital was abandoned 20 years ago, and the property has been on the market, but it hasn't sold. As a hospital, it was the subject of some rumors of shady practices 60 years ago, and it was considered to be the kind of place the very rich put their troublesome relatives to get them out of the way.

Tricksey leans back in her chair, stretching like an unruly cat. She's transformed the second bedroom into a study. What surfaces aren't covered in papers and notes contain books, opened to different pages. Computer manuals. Electronic and mechanical textbooks. Collected at the local used bookstore. Prep-work for future heists. She needs scrip. And plenty of it, if she's going to buy the hospital out from under the Monk's noses.

But enough work. Need birdy num-nums.

The Crow Girl strides through the house, pausing to look in on her sleeping Bailey. The pale geography of her still stirs feelings. She wants to hop in there. Kiss every curve and melt away. But alas. Num-nums.

She heads into the kitchen, passing the decorative mirror. For an instant, she barely recognizes the face looking back. Much changed since she began her life of transdimensional crime. New make-up. New clothes. New hair. More befitting this odd winter world, yet still reflecting her Crow Girl chiche.

The omelet is deliciously obscene and filling. She eats it by the main window, watching snow fall. A bizarre, fascinating thing, nature. She hasn't decided if she likes how...clean... it is.

Tricksey eventually takes the omelet's better half to her...better half. She sets the plate down on the nightstand and heads to get dressed.

"Need things. Going to sniff around more. Driving by hospital. You come? You stay?"

"Boring. And if it gets exciting, I don't want to be there either. I'll stay in the warm. Or maybe go to the library. My book is in."

"Stay safe," Tricksey says, kissing Bailey's forehead. "Enjoy book."

She fetches her coat and shooter, as well as some spare scrip. Instinctively, she grabs a bag of bird seed from beside the front door.

Stepping outside, she begins scattering the seed willy-nilly. The trees and roof rustle in anticipation.

Tricksey lifts her head regally, gazing up at the murders and parliaments of dark birds. They're joined by sparrows, magpies, and blue ones she doesn't recognize. A hundred eyes greedy and alert.. "You watch! You warn!" she calls to them. "Protect Bailey-chan. More where this come from, savvy?"

It's hard to say if they agree, or if they just want the free food.

She jerks a nod and then climbs in her beater. It's a squat toad of a thing, but it runs in heavy snow - and it isn't as obvious as Morty. Revving it to life, she drives off, leaving her cousins to stand guard.

She cranks the radio and heads toward the hospital.

The radio plays loud, percussive music in the style of the current generation (or the style of the previous generation on the Public Radio Affiliate) and Tricksey drives towards the no-longer-smouldering ruins.

Tricksey drives past the entrance to the hospital. The gate's been re-locked, but there's no guard in the guardhouse. There are more tire tracks than before.

The snow is starting to melt, but it's not gone. Sometimes January is like that, or at least that's what the radio says.

There's a car parked in front of the hospital building. That wasn't there the last time she was here.

Tricksey pulls up a couple hundred yards from the entrance, using a bend in the road to give her some cover. She locks up, putting down the car's emergency triangle. To the casual observer, she's probably gone for gas.

She sneaks back along the road, looking for anywhere to hop the fence. Better to approach this low and slow, rather than go knocking.

The fence is decorative rather than functional, and the gate seems to be about keeping vehicles from entering rather than anything overly secure. The security comes from the extremely long stretch of snow-covered road and grass that an intruder would have to cover to get the buildings. It could support anything from cameras to automated gun emplacements. Hard to tell, but the latter seems unlikely, at least given the level of automation she's seen so far in this place.

Luckily for her, the explosions, fire, blizzard, and water damage managed to knock out electricity to the whole hospital, probably including the surveillance systems.

Unless someone set up something portable, Tricksey may be as unnoticed as of yet.

The car looks like it was running recently. There are fresh tire tracks leading back to the gate and there isn't any snow on the roof or hood.

Tricksey loops around the car, checking for fresh footprints. She feels a hint of anger. This is her territory now. Rude to invade it.

If there are any, she carefully follows them, light footed and crow-quick.

There are. They lead inside. Tricksey follows them and finds a woman in a suit and two men, both large and wearing robes. They're priests, she gathers, but perhaps different kinds of priests. They haven't seen her yet.

Tricksey slinks closer, trying to overhear them without revealing herself just yet. Likely this world's version of Monks. Seems unlikely they'd be back here so soon without some reason.

The woman is discussing the features of the property. The handy dockside, the size of the buildings, the ease of rebuilding, the low taxes, the convenience and yet isolation of the locale....

She's trying to sell it to them.

Tricksey frowns, wondering if her recent arrival triggered some reason for the Monks to have a passing interest in the place. No matter. They wouldn't have it. Not if she could help it.

She straightens and smooths her outfit and then strides into view. Her arms are behind her back, her nose held high like the typical corp, inspecting the area with disdained interest.

"Yes. Mrmhrm. Yes, yes," she mutters to herself, ignoring the trio for the moment. "Adequate."

The woman is wearing clothing appropriate to an office, not an abandoned hospital. She tracks Tricksey and, at a natural pause in her patter to the men, she excuses herself. "I'll just let you look around a bit..."

She steps over to Tricksey. "Hello, may I help you?" She's bright and cheery, but it seems to be professional cheer.

The Crow-Girl falls into her natural state of mimicry, employing the local accent she's heard the last few days. "Ayeah. You can show me 'round this place, he'are." She pauses, pushing up glasses she isn't wearing, "They nah tell you there were other interested pah-ties. Ayeah. Typical."

Tricksey strides past her a little ways, resuming her 'inspection.' She speaks loud enough for the robed figures to hear, "Fiber optics? Coaxial cable? Air conditioning? And the power situation. Stable? Back-up power?"

"Let me give you the data sheet," she says with a smile. The woman opens her briefcase and pulls out a multi-page black-and-white flyer that describes the property.

"There's work to be done in the physical plant, it was damaged in the storm. But that's really a blessing in disguise, in that you can specify what you'd like to have there. The structurals are all in great shape, and you'll have privacy close to the city by water, rail or car. Commercial property this good doesn't come on the market that frequently, not with these just amazing amenities, even if it does need work.

"Did you know that this property was once owned by Jace Gold, the millionaire robber baron? He built most of the rail lines going west. The brothers belong to a religious order he endowed, and apparently had people here at the turn of the century." She smiles.

"They're considering the property to honor their patron. They're expecting a gift from some financial wizard to kick it off. Of course, if the property was already sold, then they'd have to make different plans, or come to an accommodation wit the new owners." She pauses. "My direct number is on the flyer."

What name is listed?

Hillary B. Rand, lic no. 8675309. The Rand Real Estate Group. Serving Greater Westchester County since 1969.

Tricksey ooohs and aaahs at the appropriate moments, nodding enthusiastically - or, at least, a vague facsimile thereof. She shares a smile with the woman at the last point. "Ah yes. New accommodations," she says.

She cocks her head, "Am I to assume there won't be some historical issues with the Gold Family or other some such? I'd rather not find out that construction is restricted before I tear down walls and put up fiber optics."

The woman doesn't seem to have any idea what fiber optics are. "There are no deed restrictions or voluntary covenants on file with the County. Miss Gold passed a number of years ago and left the property in trust for her nieces and nephews. Her sister married into continental nobility, and once the lease for the hospital was up, they let it lapse. Now they wish to realize the value of it."

Tricksey subtly leads the woman closer to the other buyers, walking and talking. "A little birdy also told me that there might be another interested party? The Tyrell Corporation. A pharmaceutical zaibatsu wishing to expand... across seas."

She glances over the paperwork, hoping to catch a reaction from the others - if there is one.

The monks mostly seem annoyed that their conversation is being interrupted, and step away.

"A... zaibatsu?" says Ms. Rand. "As the Golds' agent, we would of course do our best to bring all offers to the heirs as soon as possible. It might be in your interest to commit quickly. They'll want all the usual assurances of fulfillment, financing data, and banking details. With the heirs overseas, there will be some necessary delays in communication." She goes into her discussion of the merits of the place again, and asks Tricksey the kind of realtor questions designed to make Tricksey agree to a deal.

"What do you think your timeframe for making a decision will be?"

"We would need to review the data and crunch the numbers," Tricksey says. "Although you and I understand the need for expediency in this matter, my superiors move at their own pace. Their business model is intricately entwined with culture, as you might suspect. Hierarchical structures and decision making can be... taxing, at times. However, I shall forward you the necessary details shortly. Indeed, I'm certain you and I shall be intimately involved before this is said and done."

She performs a practiced bow, "It is a distinct pleasure. Ms. Rand. Forgive me for interrupting your tour. If you'll indulge me, I'll conduct my spot review while you finish with your other guests."

Tricksey waits for Hillary to move on, hoping. Her mouth feels twisted from talking in foxy words.

Ms. Rand gives Tricksey a business card to go with the flyer. "Let me know when you're ready to leave. I'll need to re-lock the front gates, and I'm with the brothers. If your consortium wish to place an option or render earnest money for the property, please contact me. My clients are pleased there's such interest, it's a great opportunity."

She makes appropriate farewells and goes over to the two brothers, who both look at Tricksey and smile, fox-like.

Tricksey shakes her head. "Not worry. Find own way out. Talk soon."

Ms. Rand frowns. "I'll have to stay until you leave, to lock up," she repeats.

Tricksey wiggles her eyebrows at the Foxy Brothers. And then lightly skips off deeper into the building.

After assuring she's not being watched or leaving tracks, Tricksey heads back to check on the tunnel. She wants to make sure it's still there. And, if so, hide it from view. There's enough garbage and debris around for the task.

The tunnel entrance is closed and a rug has been put over it. There's been some cleanup in here.

Tricksey curses softly. Even if only coincidence, this changes things.

She heads back toward the others, listening for the voices. She nods to Ms. Rand, hovering at the periphery until the Monks are ready to leave.

Tricksey will follow them out, wanting to corner the Monks for a private talk, if possible.

Ms. Rand is talking on a cellular phone, of the very large "phone in a bag" type. It looks like it could've come from a museum in Tyrell.

She hangs the phone up and comes over. "Ah, Ms. Ayeah, is there anything else I can show you? If you'd like to come back to the office, I can get you the full tax history and inspection report. My clients are very transparent with their dealings, and we should have no issues providing you with appropriate due diligence."

The monks are nowhere to be seen.

Slippery foxes, Tricksey curses. They'll be trouble. She glances around for which vehicle remains.

There's a car Tricksey didn't see before, over behind the stables. It has a magnetic sign on the side that says "The Rand Real Estate Group." and some other things, including a phone number, which matches the data sheet fro Ms. Rand.

Tricksey considers thumping the woman and taking her phone. It'd make for a nice conversation piece for her nest. But, she decides to err on the side of caution, resisting the Crow-Girl urge.

Once through the gate, she bows politely, "If allowable, I can meet you later this afternoon. I'm sure you'd like time for lunch, Ms. Rand. Osewa ni narimasu."

Ms. Rand offers her hand, then withdraws it, awkwardly, and bows as well. She smiles at Tricksey's Japanese and says "My cell is on the card. Please call any time. And thanks so much for bringing your company's interest in this property to our attention."

Tricksey goes through the formalities and appearances, waiting down the road in her car for Rand to leave.

Once she's gone, it's back over the fence and up to the facility. Even the small renovations worry her. In particular, the passageway back home. How much has been discovered, if anything? It's no coincidence that these foxes have appeared.

Tricksey arrives back at the building after losing Ms. Rand. The sun is low on the horizon, and it will get dark here soon. It's cold enough to snow, if the night brings weather. She slips into the broken front lobby of the building, and notices bloodstains on the floor. Not fresh; they're weeks old, but the cleaners must have missed them.

The office is about as she left it, except the rug over the trap-door has been replaced. It's not more than casual camouflage, but if someone wasn't looking for a hatch going down, it would be easy to miss. It wouldn't be something that could be put back from below, either.

Unwilling to endure more dark and cold, Tricksey moves quickly to pull back the rug and check on the hatch. She's between a rock and a hard place now, as any attempt to hide it more will be counterproductive - likely grabbing the attention of whoever put the rug here. But, at least, she can make sure it still leads down to...home.

The hatch remains where it was, with a flush-mounted ring to lift it. On careful examination, there appears to be some sort of electronics wired to it.

Tricksey locks the hatch with her pilfered hand-cuffs. Bailey might be disappointed, but these were complex times. She replaces the rug and other camouflage, trying to hide any signs of disturbance.

Task complete, she heads back toward her car. She has a lot of work to do, creating a company profile, and finding a few spare million. And find out more about these owners and the prospective buyers.

More importantly, she needs to tell Bailey. Maybe their trip to wonderland had come to a close. As much as she wants to savor the fresh air and nonbinary food products, she doesn't want her lover trapped here. It isn't home.

There's a note. "Went to library. Back later." Bailey and her jacket are gone. It's a walk to town, but not unreasonable. Hopefully she'll be back before dark.

Tricksey is alone in the rental.

Tricksey goes into nesting mode; stripping down to her fluffy robe and slippers, plops down an A&W meal at the work table, and sinks into the chair. She fires up the computer and modem, eating as the thing takes an insultingly long time to boot up.

Using Rand's card and the primitive net, she begins researching the realtor and her mystery client. She doubts they have direct server access available, but there's always a chance. How do these people even communicate?

There's some sort of information storage that allows Tricksey to find press clippings about the Rand Group. It's all text, and it's very slow. They specialize in selling former estates of very, very rich people, and are more known for their local charity and historical society work than actual sales. But when they make a sale, it's big news. There's a recent interview with Ms. Rand in the clippings, and she mentions this facility and the Gold family. The family patriarch was apparently a notorious robber baron, whatever that is.

Ms. Rand managed to get the same talking points into the press release as are on the flyer.

Tricksey takes the information and uses it to begin building a business profile to present to the sellers. Again, the pure retrograde software gets under her skin. But she wants to bait the hook for the Golds.

She eventually shifts back to raising capital, searching for potential revenue streams to harvest off this obscenely slow, but vulnerable, net. More robberies would only draw attention to her and Bailey, after all.

With the technological limitations facing her, Tricksey goes old school. She begins by creating her fake client's business account in a mid-level clearance house. This likely takes her some time, as it requires her to hack the firm's database, and gain executive-level access. Considering the underdeveloped security of the time, it's still pretty low risk at this point; although, it likely locks up the phone for awhile. She reminds herself to get an added line. Truly, what world used a phone for its modem?!

Considering the time-period, most banking systems have likely shifted from physical receipts to CHAPs (Clearance House Automated Processing system), recording the numerous daily transactions between corporations and businesses. Her intent is to funnel funds from other accounts into her fake one; payments of $25,000 or smaller. Larger transactions require physical documentation, which would immediately raise suspicions. It wouldn't be a massive haul, but enough to establish her credentials with the Golds. And buy Bailey some noodles.

Tricksey works her tricks on the system, and soon there is an adequate nest egg to use for the endeavor. She feels confident she can't be traced, but that someone will eventually notice the missing money and make more of an effort.

Tricksey finalizes her notes, developing an adequate time-table for operating to reduce her risk. Even if this real estate thing falls through, she'll have enough for the two of them to live comfortably in this strange world.

Thinking of her companion, she picks up the phone and dials the library. It's troubling that she's been so long. Maybe she's still there and the librarian can locate her.

The librarian picks up the phone, listens to the description, and asks Tricksey to hold. Tricksey's hearing has always been exceptional, and she assumes the librarian doesn't intend for her to hear her say "Delores, it's for your girlfriend..."

A sly smile curls the Crow Girl's lips. She waits for Bailey to get on the line. "Hello, pudding. Was worried. Delores safe?"

Bailey laughs. "Oh, you heard that? Librarians got nothing better to do with their time than poke at each other. Delores has been helping me with research." Tricksey thinks she hears the first librarian laughing in the background.

She continues. "I'm a little tied up in this right now. Delores will bring me back later, if you don't have plans."

"Should be jealous?" Tricksey says, only half meaning it. Crow Girls are fleeting, fickle creatures. Possessive of their shinies until another shiny appears.

Tricksey can almost see Bailey's shrug. "If you want. I think she's jealous of you."

"Wanted to talk. Things changing. Not for better. And not for phone," she continues. "But you stay. Nothing you do change it. So enjoy new lady and books."

"I'll be back soon. Delores is helping me do some research on parallel timelines and people who step between worlds. If she's right, we should find versions of ourselves here. I found myself in a place called Los Angeles. Or I was there 20 years ago."

Tricksey blinks. "Two Baileys? Not consider this. Terrifying. And exciting. Not think universe could deal with that much Bailey."

She looks out the window, "You be safe. Snow coming." A pause. "And miss you."

After she gets off the phone, Tricksey goes out to fetch ingredients for dinner. She makes sure to include some of the brightly colored alcoholic drinks she's taken a liking to; Bartley & James. Dinner consists of her making pork croquets and dancing to the obnoxious Grudge music that seems to be popular.

Bailey arrives later in the evening, almost too late for dinner. She smiles and kisses Tricksey hello, but seems very distracted.

Unless otherwise cajoled, she'll bury herself in the books she brought back.

Tricksey slings herself over the back of a chair, looking up at Bailey. "We need talk." She relays the story about the facility being bought, her plans, and the potential that their way home might be closed - permanently. She let's that settle in for a moment, sighing.

"Need know if Bailey want to go back home now. Or take chance and stay. You seem have connections here now. You stay?"

Tricksey turns over, eyes wide with curiosity. Something deeper is happening. Maybe she's already lost her Bailey.

Bailey sighs. "I found out about the me that was here. Killed in a car wreck the day we arrived."

She looks over at Tricksey. "I didn't do anything to get her killed. Not directly. But what if we shouldn't go between places? We're so much better off here than we were at home, but did I kill an innocent woman by blundering in here?"

She puts down her book. "It's hard to decide. If I stay, am I doing it because I selfishly don't like being a wanted criminal in a world ruined by people who didn't take care of it? If I help my other selves family am I just working out my guilt for killing their loved one?"

"If the answer to either of those is yes, do I still stay?"

"This isn't easy, Trix. I don't know what I should do."

Tricksey listens quietly, nodding sagely. Her face is a mask of stoney resolve. Crow Girls must be like that at times like these. Wise and knowing, even when they have few, if any, answers. When Bailey asks the final question, she slides across the room and wraps the woman in her arms. A light kiss blessed upon the forehead.

"Bailey not hurt that person," she says. "If I know anything, it is that. Fate wanted us here. Of this, am certain. We were led. For reason."

She cocks her head, "You deserve second chance. Here. Already find home here. Time for Bailey to live.

"Whether you live for them or for you. That is for Bailey to decide. But Tricksey support whatever decision you reach."

Bailey nods, perhaps not convinced. She's still tense, but she doesn't break out of Tricksey's arms.

"I need to go to this 'Los Angeles' place and see them. Not that I want to meet them, just see them." She pauses. "Delores is going to help me, but it would be easier if I had about one stack of that stolen ATM cash."

Tricksey kisses her forehead, "Then that's what Bailey does. And Tricksey help. You have that and more."

She leans back, cocking her head. "Tricksey will miss you. Always loved Bailey."

Bailey eyes her. "Damn right, but let's keep that to the present tense. I'm not dead yet. Just going away. You probably don't remember when someone could just get on a plane and fly across the country. It's... not a way we've lived recently, back in Tyrell."

She snorts. "If I find Eldon Tyrell, and he's doing the same shit he did to us, I'll proactively kill him. Then I'll need that stolen money for lawyers."

Tricksey smiles brightly, "No body. No crime." She says this as if speaking from experience.

She rolls her shoulders, "How long Tricksey have with Bailey? And will have way to find, yes?" She glances toward the computer room, "Things change fast soon. Tricksey may need to move, if foxes catch on. Not wish to lose you."

Tricksey's hands flutter like nervous birds.

Bailey snorts. "You've always managed to find me before." She comes in close. "Look at us. We sat in Tyrell and lost people year after year after year, and shrugged and pretended it didn't hurt, and moved on, because that's all we could do. But maybe losing someone to something good for them is a new thing?"

She sighs. "I'd say 'come with me', but I don't think you want to. And I don't want to tie you to something you don't want." She looks in her eyes. "I don't like the ways that story ends, Trix."

Tricksey pushes forward, touching her forehead to Bailey's. "Tricksey wants to be with Bailey. But, if she leave, our way home lost. Maybe forever."

She laces their fingers together. "But, if Bailey want this home, then Tricksey come with her. Forgets Monks. Forgets Tyrell. Stays until Bailey tires of Crow Girl. Helps people here."

Bailey reaches out and touches Tricksey's cheek. "You are the sweetest homicidal maniac I've ever met. And you take my breath away being near And I get to where I can't think straight when you're around.

"For whatever I find in Los Angeles, I'm gonna need to think straight.

"I've gotta do this on my own, and I don't know how long it will take or where it will lead me. It's not even 'do I want this home'? I can't decide that for myself without Los Angeles." She says it like it's a mythical place, like Shangri-La or Xanadu.

"But more importantly, I can't decide for you if you want this home. And it's unfair to put that burden on me. You gotta work out your own path.

"Where we came from? It's a sh*thole, because people turned it into one. I don't have any reason to go back. But you're a mystery, even to yourself. And eventually you'll need to solve that, figure out where you came form and all that goes with that.

"And that runs through Tyrell and the Hospital Arcology."

Tricksey leans into Bailey's hand, all corvid preening ritual, chin tilted, mesmerized. She listens, lost in the words and their meaning, weaving them into her internal narratives and revelations. In the end, her cheek is wet for some reason. Tears, yes? Silly Crow Girl.

She manages a weak smile. "Will make account for Bailey. She have money for a time. She take car and things. She is lost angel. But she will find her way. Find her nest. Find her truth."

Tricksey takes a breath, "Tricksey go back. Find secrets. Finish puzzle. Then she fixed, Crow Girl finds Bailey again."

She cocks her head, painted lips curling up with predatory joy. "Tricksey steal Bailey's breath away, one last time? So she remember. Crow Girls are forever."

Bailey arranges a flight to Los Angeles, gives the car to Beverly to hang on to, and sets up a blind email drop for Tricksey to send to when she gets back. But all that waits until the morning.

Brita waits until they are in the elevator going down before she places a hand on Conner's arm for connection and opens her Pattern senses to see if she can see any other anchor weights thrown into this Shadow Pond. She expects Able to ripple above her and of course Conner and Herself are creating a wake as they move. Are there other ripples interacting with theirs?

To Conner, she says "Cousins - What Can We Do with Them?" She assumes others are listening or recording still so her statement is still somewhat vague.

In cadence taps on his arm, she indicates 'searching'.

Out loud Conner replies, "I am loathe to get in the middle of family squabbles without knowing the full story." On her arm, Conner taps, 'Withdraw. Watch.'

Brita can only sense one source of Ordered power here and Conner is wearing it.

Conner suggests they leave the building and withdraw to nearby establishment where they can get a private room to talk and grab more drinks.

Brita agrees although she points out a noodle shop on the corner. It has been a while since she last ate...

The noodle shop has a counter top service but also has a couple of booths along the end of the narrow restaurant farthest from the door. Brita appropriates the empty one on the end that will one bench a view of the door and the other a view of the kitchen behind the counter.

After ordering enough noodles to make them wonder when the other four people will be arriving, Conner works a small working of space to make their voices sound really far way to anyone that might be listening in.

"So what did you make of that, sister?" Conner asks. "Do we call in the Family to tear this place down root and branch or do you think it worth trying to expand on this opening?"

Brita is quickly slurping noodles, expertly wielding the chopsticks. "It is Worth Exploring,” she says in between slurps. "I Agree with Our New Cousin that Destroying Shadows Should be Avoided. If He is Truly Separate from the other, We May Gain a Path to Resolving the Issues with the Monks. We Need to be Sure, Though. I Want to Know Who else is Here."

"Agreed. Shall we try sorcery, pattern or my mirror?" Conner asks. "Incidentally, Able had something of Sorcerous power on him."

"Interesting, Sorcery And Pattern. Perhaps we should Try Your Mirror as Divergent from the Known Aspects of Our New Cousin," Brita says around the noodles.

"I would have preferred a more private venue, but I suppose this is as good a place as any." Conner agrees. He takes the Eye of Rebma and lays in flat upon the table. He then touches the handle and concentrates on Brother Able.

Conner tries for several moments, but finds that he cannot get a fix of Brother Abel. The closest he can explain it is that it's like trump someone who is asleep in a fast-time shadow; he just can't get a solid connection to anchor his viewing.

Conner smiles. "Well that confirms my suspicions." He sighs. "He is too good a tactician to show his face without countermeasures against being found again."

Brita stares at the mirror. "You Think he is Actively Blocking or there is Something In Him that Prevents The Mirror from Seeing him? Do you Think He could have Sensed the Attempt?"

Brita waits for Conner's Answer.

"I could not get a lock on him at all." Conner replies. "I suspect that item he had on him is protective."

"Should we Try Sorcery Next?"

"I am not sure how." Conner replies. "I have used Sorcery to extend my senses but we would have to brute force search the complex." Conner pauses and looks closely at Brita. "Extend your senses." He repeats. "Sister, have you ever tried using Sorcery to extend the range of your sense of smell?"

Brita shakes her head, "No, I have Not Extended my Senses in That Way. It would Have to be Carefully Done so as to Not Overwhelm me with Every Scent Around. As to Using Sorcery for This Endeavor, can we Use the Mirror or Sorcery to Guide Placement of a Window? How does Your Mirror Work? Can you Direct it to Other Unknown Relatives that Might be Within This Shadow?"

"I have used the Principle of Space to remove the space between here and a far away position so that I may see at a distance," Conner explains. "It should be trivial to do the same with your sense of smell with the added benefit that you might be able to better direct the search based on what lingers in the air. As for your other questions," Conner sighs, "I am still uncertain how the Eye actually functions. It is a creature of chaos frozen into its present shape and it is a potent prop for magics of Space. Without Sorcery, anyone can concentrate upon the Eye and picture a person they know and see them in the glass. So I could cycle through known relatives one by one and hope to get lucky but that is a brute force method."

"We Know the Assignment Groups, Though. The New Cousins are Unlikely. Cousins Folly and Hannah were staying in Reality Xanadu; Cousins Brennan and Raven were seeing to Moonriders; Cousin Robin was Heading to Bright Paris. Cousins Celina, Vere, Merlin were Seeking monks; Cousins Ossian and Jerod were Researching monks... we Could Focus on One of Them. I am Not Sure Where Cousins Edan, Garret, or Fletcher were Headed. How Long to Check Them?" Brita is just brainstorming...

"If the connection forms, minutes only." Conner replies. "The connections from Paris to here seem to be sea based unless Celina and the rest have made discoveries. I agree that Edan, Garrett or Fletcher are the most likely people to start with." Conner begins concentrating through his cousins looking for signs they are in shadow Tyrell or talking to Able.

Conner picks Fletcher first and the image of him coalesces quickly in the mirror. He's standing in some sort of technologically advanced shadow in a corridor, but with exposed pipes, ducts, and wires. There's a dark woman next to him, and he's talking to someone. Conner is having trouble getting the person Fletcher is talking to into focus.

Conner ends up losing the focus pretty quickly. It's a mystery.

But the mystery solves itself not too long afterwards when a limousine stops in front of the noodle shop and lets two people out.