undergrounds | It's just one disaster after another

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It's just one disaster after another

1) Statement issued to Circle Daybreak re: Gilbert Norrell, 21st June
For the attention of all Daybreak covens:

You may have heard by now that Mr Gilbert Norrell, High Priest of Circle Daybreak and leader of the Norrellite Coven, has gone missing. His assistant John Childermass is also missing.

We are treating these disappearances very seriously and a full investigation is underway. Attacks on witches, and particularly on senior members of our community, will not be tolerated. However, we do not yet have any direct evidence of foul play and so I would ask you to exercise discretion in this matter. We must not jump to hasty conclusions.

Once we have the full picture of what has happened here, you will of course be the first to know.

My best wishes to you,
Sylvia Redbright, Mother of Witches; Chancellor, Redbright Institute; President of the Night Council

(NB. You may notice that there is no mention here of fae magic or the black tower that appeared above Norrell's home on the day that he disappeared. Sylvia is trying to keep that quiet.)

2) For Lancelot – Norrell's house, Westminster 23rd June
The problem with Norrell is that he's a paranoid recluse. Even getting into his house required a full coven of witches to break the labyrinth spell that would otherwise have confused and trapped anyone who tried to search the place. And after that, the witches were nervous about entering. Though she had sworn them all to secrecy, some of them had seen the dark magic that had hung over the house for near on half a day, a black tower of smoke that had been an absolute nightmare to cover up.

She sent her top Guardian to investigate the matter, but her witches are so spooked that Sylvia deems it necessary to pay a personal visit to the house and confirm that there's nothing dangerous in there herself. Fingers crossed.

She approaches Lancelot first, nodding in greeting. "What have you found so far?"

3) For Natasha – Redbright Institute, 1st July
It's safe to say that Sylvia has a lot on her mind. From trouble with Islington to the mystery of Norrell's disappearance, this has not been a good month. So she's surprised and rather annoyed when she receives a request for a meeting in her office after sundown. Yet another too-long day.

But her PA tells her that it's important and so Sylvia is there at the agreed time, calling for her visitor to come in when she knocks at the door. This had better be important.

4) For Natasha and Simon – Westminster, 2nd July
The news that Simon O'Neill is dead but not gone is potentially game-changing. For one, it means that they have a witness to his murder, which is a huge step forward in their investigation. And it means that she still has a Guardian she thought had been lost – if he sticks around.

Natasha takes her to the street where Simon died. It's late by now, the traffic less heavy. And because Sylvia knows she's looking for a ghost, it isn't long before she feels the familiar prickle at the back of her neck, the cold sensation that tells her a presence is nearby. She doesn't specialize in ghost-related magic, but like all witches she's sensitive to ghostly activity.

"Simon," Sylvia calls, drawing her shawl tighter around her shoulders as she looks around. "Are you there?"

5) EVERYONE READ THIS – A statement from the Night Council, 4th July
On 4th July, the Night Council issues a controversial statement to the leaders of all factions, to be disseminated to their respective communities.

It speaks first of the death of Simon O'Neill, a Night Council Guardian. The evidence is now conclusive, it says, Simon was murdered by an Islington vampire in pursuit of the absurd policy instituted by its leader Raymond Harris which rewards members of the nest for killing werewolves and shapeshifters.

The Night Council strongly condemns this grotesque act, and further condemns this attack on a Guardian which can only be seen as an attack on the Night Council itself. Therefore it demands the Islington Nest cease this barbaric practice with immediate effect, or else it shall be forced to conclude that the Islington Nest is no longer fit to have a seat on the Council.

The statement is signed by Sylvia Redbright, Peter Vrinak, Nora Shannon and Yasmine Merad.

[ooc: Would you like a thread with Sylvia? PM me!]

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This is Natasha's first time meeting Sylvia Redbright directly. She's seen the which before in passing, of course, but she'd been determined to keep her head down, not to draw unnecessary attention to herself as a vampire among the ranks. It had been true when she arrived, a refugee from an embattled and self-destructing nest, and only more true when the local vampires started tilting strongly toward savagery. Then there'd been Jean-Claude's little clean up job, and hiding Alex after her disastrous assassination—Natasha had a lot of reasons not to draw attention to herself.

That had been true right up until she ran into Simon's ghost lingering in the alley where he'd been murdered. Natasha might not like it, but she knows when it's time to put aside what she likes and dislikes and does what's necessary. She might be able to find Simon's killer on her own. She has the skill set for it. But this is bigger than just her, and bigger than taking down one overzealous vampire.

In the end, Natasha knows that she needs the legitimacy that comes from an official investigation. Something needs to be done about Islington.

Which is why the vampire is there, and why when she walks in it's with the air that she absolutely belongs there. It's not ego. It's not even self-confidence. It's the stoic certainty of a KGB agent with news to report. She stands straight, hands folding behind her back and clasping there. "Chancellor Redbright," she says evenly. "Thank you for meeting me on such short notice. I promise I won't waste your time."

Sylvia knows without having to ask that Natasha is a vampire. No one else would ask to meet at such a late hour. So it's no surprise that they haven't encountered each other directly before, but Sylvia is immediately impressed by her professional manner.

She nods, smiling. "Thank you, Natasha. I understand you have some important news."

There's not much more that Natasha can do by way of preamble in this situation. Still, her mouth tightens slightly and there's a brief hesitation as she considers how to beak the news.

"I'm sure you know what happened to Simon O'Neill," she says; it seemed like a safe assumption that she'd know when one of her employees was murdered. "I went by yesterday night to pay my respects, and you could say that I ran across a lead. Simon is still there. Haunting the scene."

Yes, she knows what happened to Simon O'Neill. Her eyes widen and she stands up from behind her desk, leaning forward.

"His ghost is there?" It is more likely to happen when people die sudden or violent deaths. The spirit of the deceased is too shocked or angry to take the proper next step, and they linger around in the mortal realm instead, often without any idea of what to do in order to move on. "Poor Simon..." She shakes her head. "Did you speak to him? What did he say?"

"We spoke, briefly. He wants me to figure out who killed him." Not especially surprising for the ghost of a murder victim. With vampires... in some ways, it was expected.

"He didn't have a clear memory of what happened, but he gave me the basics of what he did know. Vampire. Male. Shorter than him. And Simon says he smelled like campfire smoke."

Left unsaid is the fact Natasha has already stated putting out feelers. Nothing that could be called an investigation at this point, just touching base with a few contacts to see if there was any gossip that might help narrow down a starting point.

"He's in about the shape you'd expect, given the situation."

She purses her lips. Vampire, they already knew that from the way he had died, but the other details are new. It certainly gives them a new lead. A witness, in fact.

"You're aware that Simon was a shapeshifter."

It's not quite a question, more checking that they're on the same page. They have no confirmed motive for this murder yet other than a vampire doing what vampires do, but it isn't hard to think of one.

"I'm aware. He made a handsome dog." The answer is dry, but not quite stoic. She's done fairly well at keeping an impartial face, but Sylvia's statement reminds her of when she and Simon had met and she doesn't bother to entirely hide her fondness for the kid.

"I figure whoever did this probably knew too."

"I agree. But Simon was more than just a shapeshifter. He was also a Guardian."

There's a short pause while Sylvia lets that sink in. This death is far more significant than a student dying, tragic as that is. It means there's a possibility that the attack was politically motivated. Or even that the attacker knew that Simon was a Guardian and didn't care. It shouldn't happen. No one in London should dare to murder a Guardian, as if he was another unfortunate tourist who got jumped by a callous vampire.

She continues: "That makes this Night Council business. And an extremely sensitive issue, given that the attacker was a vampire and we all know who has been encouraging vampires to attack shapeshifters. We have to get to the bottom of this as quickly as possible, and as discreetly as possible. Simon might just be our best lead. Have you spoken to anyone else about this?"

She'd rather keep this as contained as possible.

That, Natasha didn't know and it comes as a surprise. It only takes her a moment to process the new information, but it does change things. Natasha has been assuming it was being a shapeshifter that made him a target. While she can't rule it out, she understands when Sylvia explains that it opens other possibilities.

"No," she answers, he tone a little more grim as she responds. "You're the first."

At that, Natasha wets her lips, considering a new possibility. "Should I take that to mean that makes the investigation above my paygrade? Because I told Simon I'd be looking into who's behind this."

And while she doesn't have much in the way of qualms about lying, she'd rather not go back on her word on this one.

This is above Natasha's paygrade and Sylvia already has a Guardian on the case. So she could thank Natasha for her contribution and leave things there. But an investigation like this needs all the resource it can get, and here she has a volunteer. That leaves two questions: one, is Natasha up to the task, and two, can she be trusted with it? Sylvia can't forget that the woman she's talking to is a vampire, even if she is a member of the Outreach team.

Her voice softens a fraction. "Why do you want to help him?"

That's a loaded question. Loaded because Natasha knows that it has the potential to be a lot deeper and a lot more probing than it seems on the surface, but also because Natasha herself isn't sure just how much she wants to examine her motivations. There's a lot going on there, not all of it entirely altruistic. Things she doesn't intend to drag out to classify for another person.

She does want to, though, and she doesn't think Sylvia would swallow a story that wasn't at least mostly true.

"He was a good kid," she says, only a second too late to seem entirely natural. "When I started working here, he was kind of afraid of me, I think. He didn't realize I'd be working with him. He might have gotten a little growly with me, thought I was here for the students and wanted to protect them even though he wouldn't have lasted long in a fight. But when he figured out what was going on, he apologized. He was friendly. He actually went out drinking with me and let me try to teach him to play darts."

Would Sylvia understand what that meant? Hard to say, and Natasha might rather she didn't.

"I owe him for that."

It's a good story. It's exactly the kind of story she wants to promote at Redbright, in fact: members of two different supernatural species who might initially regard each other as enemies, but come to realise that what they are doesn't define them. They can work together. They can be friends. And Simon was... Well, so harmless, really, it's hard to imagine why anyone would want to kill him.

"I see," she says. "Of course, he was your teammate too. Forgive me for asking, but are you qualified to carry out an investigation of this kind?"

Sylvia receives information on everyone who applies to join the Outreach team, but she can't be expected to remember the details of every single person.

Natasha might not have been entirely forthcoming about the details of her past, either. Bad habit. She hadn't lied, but she also hadn't gone into the details regarding her history before she was turned.

She brought he question on herself, and now it's hard not to laugh.

A pause as she clears her throat, considering if there's a tactful way to answer that question, then a resigned smile as she says, "My qualifications might be a little out of date, but up until 1964 I was an active KGB agent. Not coincidentally."

It seemed far-fetched sometimes, and it would be if she'd been snatched off the street rather than chosen and groomed specifically for her skills.

"After that, you could say I was a special consultant through until 1990 or so."

...Well, that's unexpected. An actual Russian spy. Sylvia laughs out of sheer surprise, but something about the way Natasha conducts herself makes it seem perfectly believable.

"Until you were turned?" She can only imagine what kind of nasty Russian mob got hold of Natasha in that case. The turf wars between the vampire and werewolf gangs there make London seem a peaceful haven in comparison.

"More or less. Hard to stay in active duty after that." If Natasha sounds a little rueful, it's not entirely faked. Not exactly sad or sorry, but... she knows how it sounds. Taken objectively, he life had taken more than one seemingly unbelievable turn. Most of them out of her control.

Sylvia's imagination probably isn't too far off. Especially in the past twenty-five years, the nest in Moscow had lost its veneer of legitimacy and become more and more a mob. One that was losing a war.

"I would say I have the skill set for this investigation."

"It sounds like you do." She's willing to give Natasha a chance on this one. Vampire she may be, but Sylvia has heard nothing untoward about her work at Redbright so far. This will be an opportunity for Natasha to prove herself. "Well, I wouldn't want you to break your promise. You'll join Faolan, the Guardian leading this investigation. I'm sure he'll appreciate your expertise. In the meantime, I'd like to visit Simon myself. He needs to know that he has our full support."

And ideally, she'd like to bring him back into the fold. As Natasha knows well, death isn't necessarily the end in this world. It can open up a new chapter.

"Faolan," Natasha nods. She knows him. Looks like they were going to have to stop pretending not to know what the other was about, or that it didn't matter. She nods. That was never destined to last. "I've met him. I'll touch base."

That will wait, though. At least for a little while.

"I can show you where he is." Not that she wouldn't know where Simon had died, but this way Simon would know she was behind Sylvia finding out. Plus, it kept her in he loop. "Anything we can do for him..." Well, Natasha is here to help.

Sylvia nods. "I'd like to consult a medium from my coven first – to be sure that I have the best advice. Let's arrange to meet at the same time tomorrow. You can take me to Simon and hopefully we'll do what we can for him."

She approaches Natasha to shake her hand goodbye. A show of trust is always good, Sylvia thinks, to give those who might otherwise feel like outsiders the chance to earn their place. And she rather suspects that Faolan and Natasha will keep each other in check. Now that will be an interesting conversation. She'd like to be a fly on the wall for that one.

Natasha takes Sylvia's hand to return the shake, her just slightly cool, dry and professional. For her, it marks a sort of deal. At least an agreement. Natasha already works for the institute, but in this issue in particular, she's working on their behalf and on Simon's.

"Tomorrow then. Should we meet here, or somewhere outside?"

"Outside, by the entrance." She smiles. "I'll see you tomorrow. Have a good night."

For Sylvia, it's the end of the day. Time to go home at last. For Natasha, she presumes, it's just the start.

Sylvia's not wrong about that. Since Natasha has freedom to investigate the murder, she doesn't plan on waiting until tomorrow to get started. With a last nod, she'll let herself out.

Yes, Simon's there. He can't not be. Now he knows what people mean when they talk about "restless spirits;" he doesn't need to eat or sleep or do anything to distract him from an extremely shitty street corner somewhere in London, so he's stuck pacing around and people watching at all hours of the day and night.

Maybe this is where horror movies start: with an extremely bored ghost who doesn't know what to do with himself.

When Sylvia Redbright comes to his patch of road, he perks up a bit. Of all the people who've come to pay respects since his death, his former boss wasn't one he'd thought would make the trek.

Simon manifests near the blood spot (considerably lighter, now, after all the rain they've been getting) and tries to put on a brave sort of face. "I'm here."

"Simon." Her face softens as he approaches. God, he's so young. "I'm so sorry."

This is one of the strange realities of being a witch: consoling people on their own deaths. To see him now, unable to interact with the physical world, trapped in the location of his death... She can only imagine how he must be feeling.

"Nothing to feel sorry about," Simon says awkwardly, still trying to look braver than he feels. It's amazing how intensely intimidating Sylvia Redbright can be, even when he's speaking to her from beyond the grave.

"I got myself killed. I was drunk and stupid and let my guard down."

He turns to the other person, giving her a wave and a sad half-smile. "Hello, Natasha."

Edited 2016-06-27 22:40 (UTC)

Natasha hangs back a little, letting Sylvia go in first and do what she wants. When Simon addresses her directly, she quirks half a smile and lifts one shoulder in something like a shrug. "Hey. Hope you don't mind me bringing in back up."

"You were attacked," Sylvia replies firmly. "That shouldn't happen to anyone, let alone a Guardian. I want you to know that you're not alone and that your death will not be brushed aside. I hope that you can help us bring the perpetrator to justice. If you were to see the vampire who murdered you again, would you recognize him?"

Having Simon as witness identify the murderer could be the proof they need, assuming they can find him.

Could he recognize his attacker? Simon disappears for a moment, because the question catches him off guard and he loses his concentration. It had been dark, and he'd been drunk. He'd spent the last ten years relying on his nose as his primary sense; it was harder to fool than his eyes. But without his senses to guide him...

"Yes," he says after a beat, reappearing. "I got a pretty clear look at his face right before he attacked. I think I would recognize him again, if I saw him."

"So we just have to get the guy here," Natasha murmurs. It's not sarcastic, amazingly enough. She's not not entirely sure how they're going to do that. Since she brought Sylvia into this, probably better to play nice. Which meant getting a positive ID before taking action.

"Or a picture of him," Sylvia agrees. A photographic or video line-up should be enough to judge by, if the video is of good quality. "Good. We'll get a positive ID from you as soon as we can. In the meantime... is there anything we can do to support you, Simon? I know several witches who specialise in helping those who have yet to pass on."

He's stuck here, it seems, which is normal for a new ghost. Something seems to tie them to the place of their death.

"Either one," Simon shrugs with forced casualness. "Though I'd prefer him to be brought here, if that's an option." What he'd do if he could encounter his murderer again, he isn't sure. Flicker threateningly? What good is a ghost anyway?

He perks up a bit when Sylvia asks him what he needs. "Can I...move? Do they know how to get me out of here? Not to move on. I'm sick of this place."

Natasha shrugs at that, leaving the questions to Sylvia. Her knowledge about ghosts comes mostly from limited experience, running into them. She can't claim to have that much academic knowledge. Sylvia would know much better what a witch could do for him.

"You can learn," Sylvia says. "It takes time and patience, and most of all a connection to the world of the living. A medium can offer you counselling and emotional support, which is the first step. But the best way to make that connection is through people you know and love. A friend, a mentor, someone you trust." She glances at Natasha as she says this, wondering... "With help and guidance you can learn to navigate your new reality. If you could choose someone to talk to, someone who could support you through this, who would it be?"

She knows through her connections with witches who specialise in this area that it isn't about magic, although a witch's magical sensitivity is what allows them to easily communicate with ghosts in the first place. For a new ghost, it's about working through their grief and alleviating loneliness. Without a way of maintaining contact with the living, they can lose their grip on reality.

If he could choose anyone, who would it be?

Matt had been a good friend, but he was back in America. He figured Matt probably knew by now what had happened--it'd been on the news and they had each other friended on various social media accounts, so word has probably travelled to Philadelphia that Simon is now very much a former person. God knows how Matt would be taking that. Not well, probably. Simon doesn't particularly want to be bonded like that to his grieving best friend. Or stuck in Pennsylvania, if that's how it works.

Skip is another possibility, but she has enough to deal with as it is. The last he'd heard before his death was that she'd left town, which he reckons is a good thing. His relationship with her had never been entirely stable, and he'd wanted a lot more out of it than she'd been willing to give. (It's much easier to be circumspect about the girl who broke your heart when you're dead. Apparently.)

As for anyone else...he glances over to Natasha and shrugs. That's what Sylvia is implying, isn't it? He would necessarily call Natasha close, or even really a friend, but he'd spent most of his life actively rejecting the supernatural world and now that it's over he's reaping the whirlwind of that decision. Everyone else he loves is a normal human, who wouldn't be able to see him if he did decide to make them his...what? Spirit guide? Reverse spirit guide?

"I don't really know," Simon admits finally. "My best friend or my ex, maybe, but I don't think they'd want the job. Haven't got anyone else."

Natasha isn't sure how to handle this conversation. She doesn't have much to offer, and she's not sure she'd volunteer to push for more for Simon than he volunteers himself. She hadn't lied when she said she felt like she owed him a debt, but that didn't make them close. They were more friendly than friends.

Enough of a reason that she was willing to kill the vampire who'd done this, but that wasn't really so much.

"You don't have to come up with an answer now. Think about it a while."

Natasha's reply is about as sensitive as one can possibly be in a situation like this, so Sylvia nods in agreement, her eyes full of sympathy.

"Don't worry. In the meantime, I'll arrange for a medium to come and talk to you every day. She's an expert in helping the recently deceased work through their grief." She's also an excellent exorcist for when the ghost is ready to move on or has to be forced to move on, but now is not the time to bring that up. "You can also keep up with your duties as a Guardian by patrolling this area and letting us know of any suspicious activity. We'll make sure you have the opportunity to report back every few days, so you're not out of the loop. Okay?"

She offers a smile, keeping her tone positive. Sylvia believes in keeping one's chin up and carrying on as the best way to get through a difficult time, even if that difficult time happens to be one's own death. If Simon has nothing to do but drift, he's more likely to dwell on his death. It's always good to have a purpose.

Lancelot sighs the sigh of a man who is not at all at ease with his current situation.

"Confirmed a lot of personal suspicions. Norrell is a paranoid hoarder who had a lot of money to burn. There's no sign of forced entry that I can see. Not in the traditional sense at least. I've been trying to trace through the house in the less traditional way but there's been a lot of magical activity here, no surprise. It seems strongest upstairs -- that's where his library was. Another labyrinth spell. I'm... not so sure if I know him well enough to judge. Was he always this paranoid or should we take it as sign he knew something?"

After all, Lancelot well knows Norrell has been in the spotlight. Is it a sort of madness brought on by the election? Or did he simply always believe himself a target? He really can't say he spent enough time with the man to say. Gesturing slightly to the staircase he begins to walk toward it and up regardless, regarding the house uneasily as he does. As if still a little unsure himself it is entirely safe to be there.

He's not the only one to feel uneasy. There's something oppressive about the house's atmosphere, something that makes it feel more like a lair than a home even though it's mostly full of dusty old books.

She follows him upstairs, shaking her head. "He was always paranoid but even more so after recent events. Believed that the election was rigged. He made a lot of enemies which means we have a lot of potential suspects... but no body, is that right?"

In a way, she wishes they did have a body. At least it would confirm what had happened. This disappearance is far more frustrating, and part of her wonders if Norrell didn't up and flee along with his manservant. Perhaps someone threatened him. Perhaps the dark magic spell over his home was an attack that Norrell had anticipated. There are just so many options.

"No body," Lancelot confirms. "Which makes it hard to say exactly what we're dealing with. No ransom, so if he's been kidnapped it isn't for leverage over anything. There's no sign of Childermass still. He was a member of Norrell's coven, as I understand it. Whatever happened here was definitely an explosive display of magic. Did he and Norrell have any reason to disagree, that you know of? Childermass would know his way through these spells already"

Childermass was not exactly someone Lancelot had gotten on well with, but was he capable of this? He really has no idea. The most likely suspect is often the closest to home, though. There's a statistic about it, how a large percentage of murders are committed by someone the suspect knows. It isn't, he realises, the most obvious lead -- they all know what the more obvious leads are -- but he's trying to keep a clear head. Not to show bias.

She blinks. "Are you suggesting that Childermass practised dark magic?"

Knowing his way through the labyrinth spell is one thing. But the black cloud that appeared over Norrell's house could only have been created with fae assistance. They have to account for that. Suggesting that a Daybreak witch may have practised dark magic is no trivial matter, and not a conclusion she would like to leap to without compelling evidence.

"I can't rule it out as easily as I'd like. I spoke to him once, while we were looking for that child the fae took during negotiations. Norrell may have been aggressively against the fae but Childermass wasn't. He was careful not to say anything direct, but I could not say he was condemning the fae at all. I have no evidence -- the suspicion will stay between us -- but it is possible. If he truly was sympathising with them it would give him good reason to argue with Norrell."

They reach the top of the stairwell and the magic is stronger here. The narrow hallway leads around past a plain sort of office, a bedroom, a bathroom, then through to where another labyrinth spell had once been. Beyond is what is more a private library than a study. Reaching up toward high ceilings are lines of intimidatingly tall book cases. The wood is dark, elegantly carved in a French style similar to the set he sent Sylvia once on her birthday. The fireplace is cold and empty, the room dark. The curtains to the vast windows are pulled shut against, papers scattered slightly off his desk. On one wall a large, expensive mirror frame stands but the glass appears to be smashed.

It's the mirror that catches her attention. Sylvia falls silent, picking her way carefully over the floor to avoid the broken glass, and stops in front of the mirror frame.

"Mirrors are gateways." Her voice is soft, recalling previous instances of fighting dark magic, creatures caught in reflections... "They can be used as windows into another world. Come here, Lancelot. Tell me what you can sense."

Gateways? Well that's hardly a reassuring thing. He steps closer slowly, a little wary now. Lance's senses are sharp, and he has learnt the hard way plenty of times that it is not always pleasant.

Looking up at the mirror he focuses, try to feel out the room. His brow furrows in concentration, gaze a little distant. It's all such a muddle, after all. This room has been used for a lot of magic, there is a lot going on here and not all of it is relevant.

Something, something nags at him. Birds. Light, high, loud, harsh, yet soft.

"Birds?" he says, and sounds confused by it, winces and tries to focus harder. "There has been a lot of magic cast in this room, forgive me. It is hard to pinpoint what may be older and what... is not."

"Birds?" Sylvia repeats. "Where? Coming from what direction?"

Some people reported that the black cloud above Norrell's house looked like a flock of birds – crows, to be precise. If the spell was cast here inside the house rather than consuming it from the outside, then that puts a rather different spin on things.

"Forgive me, I cannot say. It is not so accurate as that, more a... sense. A great deal of magic has been cast in this room, it is hard to pinpoint which is new and which is not."

He hesitates, twists his hands together a little as he thinks. It is difficult for him to explain this sort of thing clearly, Lancelot is not a witch himself -- nor any kind of scientist. He can only describe what he feels, and describing a feeling is a terribly inexact thing.

"Much of it is faded, yet some of it... feels different to everything else. I suppose that is whatever caused this. A different kind of magic."

Something Daybreak would not support, to be sure.

"Fae."

The evidence is undeniable. She shakes her head, stepping away from the mirror.

"You know, I'm beginning to regret allowing fae free movement around central London. If the spell was cast in this room, then we have a number of worrying possibilities. One, a fae got itself invited in to Norrell's home, which seems unlikely if you know how paranoid the man is. Or two, a fae was summoned inside this house... By an enemy of Norrell's? I doubt there's a single witch in Circle Midnight who doesn't hate him. Or by Norrell himself." Her lips thin. It seems unlikely, yet somehow she doesn't put it past him to try something like that. "We need to establish who was in this house before the dark cloud struck. CCTV footage would be a good start. I want you to lead this case personally, Lancelot. Whatever the outcome, we need to keep this contained."

And confidential. She wants to reassure the witch community, not scare them. The longer this uncertainty persists, the worse it is for everyone.

Lancelot winces slightly, but he doesn't disagree.

He can't, they both know it's true.

"Of course," he says, because he doesn't have the option to say anything else. They can't go pointing fingers too publicly because the political fallout of assuming wrong would be a disaster. So he'll need to investigate as carefully as possible. He presses his lips together, thinking. "I'll do my best to move quietly, but people will already be asking questions and starting rumours."

Which means they need some sort of story to work with, and they all need to be using the same one. Something non-offensive which doesn't blame anyone or cause panic.

"Then you tell them that Mr Norrell disappeared after his home was attacked by dark magic. We are conducting an investigation into his disappearance but any rumours about the perpetrator are just that – rumours. Say nothing to imply that Norrell may have been responsible for this. I won't have his name driven through the mud on nothing more than speculation."

She may not like Norrell much, but he doesn't deserve to be bad-mouthed for something he most likely didn't do. Especially not if the man is dead; it's disrespectful. She would bet a considerable amount of cash that a Circle Midnight witch or a disgruntled fae did this.

It's clear cut enough, and not even a lie. They have no direct suspects to speak of. That won't stop rumours, though, and rumours may spark faction squabbling and acts of perceived vengeance.

His eyes scan the room once more and Lancelot lets out a slow breath. Its been picked apart for evidence but processing takes time, and there's no guarantee on leads that way. They still need leg work to get anywhere, and Lancelot is the one now volunteered to be doing that.

"Childermass moved around more than Norrell. I'll see if I can piece together where he was the last few days, see if anything unusual turns up or if anything changed."

If Norrell was worried about something, or Childermass was behaving oddly.

"I'll let you know as soon as anything turns up."

Which may be slow going, with how the supernatural community is, but Lancelot is persistent.

Edited (typo) 2016-07-26 01:29 (UTC)

That's sensible enough and she trusts him to do a good job of it. Sylvia nods. "Good. Let me know if you find anything unexpected."

Like any evidence that could be awkward for them. Or anything that might lead them to a witch or fae culprit. The sooner they can pin this on someone, the better.

Which means there's nothing more she can do here. The place is being picked over by people with far keener eyes than she has. Sylvia may have ordered the investigation, but she isn't going to do the legwork. Satisfied that all is going as it should, she bids Lancelot goodbye and retreats from the house.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

It's just one disaster after another

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