BACK TO FRASER'S FRACTURED FICTION

Follow That Falcon!

by A. Fraser

Part 4

© Copyright 2004 A. Fraser. All rights reserved.

Mitch and Evan left at dawn.  Not without some misgivings on Evan's part, but
as Mitch pointed out, Rigo would be inoperative during the day.  They followed
the most likely route that Ray and Estella would have taken to get to her
mother's place.

But the trail was cold, and not even Evan could follow one on a paved highway. 
Not even Mitch's nose could scent their quarry, or differentiate from among the
smells of gas, rubber, hot engines, antifreeze, cigarettes, coffee, garbage, urine
and dog faeces that permeated the highways and shoulders.

"Sometimes I wonder if progress was such a good thing," Evan remarked, noting
yet another spot where a car had pulled over in order to dump garbage or allow
the driver to relieve his bladder.

Mitch was twitchy, impatient.  His eyes still burned amber, and his hair was even
shaggier than normal.  There'd been a very strong smell of dog last time they'd
investigated a spot.                                             
                              
"We're not going to find them," the werewolf growled.

"We will," Evan countered.  "Or if we don't, somebody will.  That's what the
Brotherhood does.  We rescue people."

"Help the hopeless?" Mitch laughed.  It sounded like a bark.

"We were doing it first," said Evan calmly, refusing to rise to the bait.
"Besides, we dress better."

There were too many skid marks on the highway, too many spots where a car
had gone off the road.  Investigating all of them would take a lifetime.   While
both Mitch and Evan had lifetimes to spare, Ray and Estella most likely did not.

Still, they kept trying.  It was what the Brotherhood did.


The Fairlawn household was also up early, but this was because there were two
teenagers to get off to school.  Toast and homework, sneakers and textbooks,
orange juice and calculators; a typical morning's panic.

"I'll drive them in," Mary offered, seeing that her husband looked preoccupied.

Andrei, freed from his hood and jesses, flew to the back of Galen's chair and
snatched toast from the boy's hand.

"Three more years, and we can drive," said Vivain, paying no attention
whatsoever to her brother's outraged flapping at the falcon.

"You can get more toast, Galen," his father pointed out.  "Leave Andrei alone,
he's distressed."

The falcon took off back for his perch with his prize.  He knew, in his own way,
that pecking either of the twins or Mary would be a really stupid thing to do. 
Michael was fair game, though, and had already felt the falcon's beak.  What did
it take to get a message _through_ to humans?

"Yeah, poor Andrei," said Vivain.  "He must know something's wrong with
Ray."

"Well, of course he knows," Galen scoffed, taking another piece of toast and
wolfing it down before anything could happen to it.  "Otherwise, why would he
be stuck in this house?"

"Maybe we should take him out," Vivain said. "I'm pretty sure I can swing the
lure."

"That's not a good idea, honey," her mother told her.  "What if Andrei didn't
come back to the lure?"

"He could take us to wherever Ray is, I bet!" Vivain exclaimed.

Her brother stared at her, then burst out laughing. "You dummy!  Andrei's a
falcon, not a collie!"

Vivain glared at him.  Mary decided it was a good time to change the subject.

"Do you have your permission slips for that field trip to the museum?" she asked.

"Yep," Vivain nodded.

"I don't see why we have to go," Galen complained.  "We don't need to visit a
museum to find out about old stuff.  We can just ask Dad."

"Oh, go to school," his father snorted.

And a few minutes later, still bickering, the twins were ushered out to the family
car.

Michael looked thoughtfully at Andrei.  The falcon had finished the toast and
was eyeing the remains of breakfast, wondering what else he could steal.

"What _do_ you know, I wonder?" the Archdruid mused.

Andrei shrieked and flapped his wings.  He launched himself off the perch and
flew around the kitchen, making Michael duck.

The trouble was, the ancient Druid realized as the bird tried its damnedest to eat
his right ear, that everybody forgot that Andrei was not a real falcon.  He
behaved like a real falcon he flew, ate, crapped, had to be hooded and jessed,
was trained to the lure and the whistle but he had not been hatched from a falcon
egg.

"Where did it strike?" Karra was asking Ray as she knelt beside him.
"I'm fine," he grumbled as he tried to force himself to his feet.
"Sit still!" Karra demanded. "Tell me where!"
Shocked by her tone of voice, Ray indicated his left shoulder and stayed where
he was. Karra brushed her right hand over the area he'd pointed out until she
found the spot she wanted. She lightly grasped his shoulder, then laid her left
hand on her knees. As she concentrated, Ray felt the pain in his arm and
upper body gradually receding.
The others watched in silence as a ball of silver light began forming in
Karra's open palm. When she was satisfied that she had drawn out all of the
magic she could, she turned away from Ray and wrapped both hands around
the glowing orb. As she spoke words that her patient didn't understand, the
ball began to change shape.
Within moments, a full grown falcon was fighting its way free of her grasp.
As it soared high into the midnight sky, she turned back to Ray.
"Does it still hurt?"
"No," he told her. "How did you do that?"
"Magic," she grinned, as the falcon landed next to Ray. "He'll be your friend
if you like."
"Mine? Why? You made him "
"He came from you. Your blood and pain created him  I only helped."
(From "Gramps", by A. Fraser and D.J. Lowery)

Magic.  Andrei was a magical construct.  There was far too much magic
involved in this disappearance already; as much as Michael hated to
categorize the craft, it mostly felt like evil magic.  Rather, magic used for
evil purposes.  The mind he had felt last night, that odd, child-like mind
with the power like singing wind, was blocking all magical attempts to find
Ray and Estella.  So probably Andrei wouldn't be able to find his ... owner,
for lack of a better word.  The falcon wasn't precisely a familiar, but
Michael was hard put to find another term for what he was.

No, it had been a good idea, but yet another blind alley.  He'd have to tell
Vivain, though, that she'd had a really good idea.  Preferably in front of Galen.

It wasn't until much later in the day, when Michael was down in his workshop
designing a bracelet as a surprise gift for Mary, that it hit him.

Andrei wasn't just a magical construct.

Blood.  Blood and pain.  Blood and pain, and magic.

Blood called to blood.  Trite, but there you had it.

The relationship between Ray and his falcon was complex.  It was more than
master and pet or mage and familiar.  Andrei had been made from Ray's blood
and pain.  In a way, he was a part of Ray.

Michael dropped the bracelet (it could always be recast) and raced up the stairs
to the kitchen, to find Andrei plaguing the ancient family dog Ruddigore.

"Can you find him?" the Archdruid asked excitedly.

The falcon screamed and leapt into the air, narrowly avoiding cracking a wing
against the kitchen ceiling.  Andrei was clearly saying, "It's about bloody damn
time someone asked!"

Ruddigore barked.


"I guess we'd better just go home," Mitch sighed.  "If I smell one more pile of
dog shit, I'm going to puke."

"I've smelled enough of that, too," Evan agreed.  "We tried, though, partner."

"Someone covered the trail," Mitch said.

"We aren't dealing with amateurs," Evan nodded.  "Come on, I'll use the
Freeway, I'm hungry."

"You're always hungry."

"I'm not in high cycle, smart ass."

Evan initiated the procedure that would take them onto the Imaginos Freeway
(tm, used by permission, assuming the original owner remembers...)  A tachyon;
both a particle and a wave; the possession of which allowed the Cadillac
limousine to travel something like the Enterprise at Warp Six.

"Give me a Caddy every time," Evan grinned, patting the dashboard.

Mitch, who drove a Jeep SUV, only grunted.
                                           
They arrived back at Oakwoods before sunset.  There was a message on the
answering machine, asking someone in the household to contact Fairlawn ASAP.

"I think we can find them," Michael said without preamble when he heard
Evan's voice.

"How?" 

"Andrei."  Michael explained.

"That's great!  Let's go!"

"No, I think we'll need the vampires.  Get everybody over here as soon as
they're ready, even Rigo.  We'll need the limo."


It had not been a good day.  The thugs had known their stuff.  Not a bone was
broken, but Ray hurt all over and his lip kept bleeding.  Since they'd beaten him,
they'd left him locked in the room.  Nobody had brought him food, though he'd
been allowed some water and a bathroom trip with the inevitable jolt from the
damned taser to remind him to behave.

He remembered this house.  A dozen rooms, all of them cells of one description
or another.  Magical and mundane locks on the doors leading outside, the
windows barred and magically sealed.  It had been built with the very clear idea
of holding prisoners.  It was not a house in which a delicate, blind child should
have been raised; but he supposed that Deirdre was as much a prisoner as he
was.

Was Estella still alive, or had Eric killed her?  Ray had no way of knowing.  He
hoped the twins were taking care of Andrei for him.  He wasn't sure what would
happen to the falcon if he died.

After Ray had been left alone for most of the day, Eric came in.  Of course he
was backed by the thugs, but Ray hurt too much to try anything, anyway. He hadn't 
seen any of the other coven members yet, but of course he wouldn't, not until he'd
promised to be their leader.


"Enjoying yourself?" Eric asked.

"I can't be your coven leader if you beat the hell out of me and starve me to
death."  Ray was having trouble mustering defiance.

"Oh, I won't let you starve."  Eric nodded, and one of the thugs left the room. 
He returned shortly with a tray.

"You think I'm going to touch food you prepared?" Ray asked.

Naturally, he ended up being forced to at least drink the soup. It was swallow or
drown.

"I wouldn't use drugs," Eric said.  "They're too easy.  No, you must eat, or I
won't let you see your girlfriend."

"Estella's okay?" Ray croaked.  The soup had been, apparently, drug free.  He
tried some bread, wincing as it hurt to chew.

"Of course. I told you, she's insurance.  I don't waste insurance unnecessarily."

"And you'll let me see her?"

"I'm not a cruel man," Eric lied.  "Of course I will."

Estella, too, had not passed an easy day, but most of her worries were about Ray. 
She'd been fed and treated fairly well; nobody had beaten her or tortured her
although nobody had spoken to her, either.  Then, sometime in the afternoon, one
of the strong-arms had come for her.

"You're to follow me," he said.  "And don't try anything smart, or I'll use the
taser on you."

'Here it comes,' Estella thought, 'the torture.'  She remembered some of Ray's
scars, and shuddered.

But she was not led into a room with chains and branding irons. Rather she was
taken into a nice little bedroom, somewhat sparely furnished, where a child sat
on a bed.
                                      
The thug warned her again not to try anything smart, and left her there, closing
the door.

The sightless eyes turned to Estella, and her heart went out to this too-thin waif.

"You can See," said the child, and Estella heard the capital letter.

"Yes," said Estella.

"Can you See my name?"

"No.  Names are not something I can tell.  Not usually, at any rate," she
amended, because sometimes she could.  It was rare, though.

"I am Deirdre."

"Hello, Deirdre.  I'm Estella."

"Yes.  I know.  You are the Seer.  You came with the murderer of my father."

"Your... father?"  More information Ray hadn't given her.  Imagine Matthew for
a father!

"My mother died, too.  The vampire killed her.  The blond one."

"Francis?  Francis killed your mother?"

"She was cast from the cliff, into the sea.  Falling, falling, falling."

"Who takes care of you, then?"

"Eric.  He has been my father and mother.  I cannot go out, so Eric tells me of
the world and the wickedness in it."

'I just bet he does,' Estella thought.  "Don't you want to go out?" she asked.

"I cannot," Deirdre replied.  "I must stay here, and be the keeper."

"The keeper of what?"

"Secrets."

"You can keep secrets and still go outside!  Haven't you ever been outside? 
Don't you go to school?"

The girl shuddered.  Estella was getting a better and longer look at her than Ray,
and realized that Deirdre was older than she at first seemed. The thinness,
blindness and general delicacy made her seem very young, but that was not a
little girl's body.  She had to be at least Vivain's age, if not a year or two older. 
The comparison was devastating for poor Deirdre Vivain was a healthy, active,
normal thirteen year old girl.

Well, fairly normal.

"I do not go to school," Deirdre said.  "I am too different."

"There are schools for blind children!"  Estella would have smacked Eric,
regardless of the consequences, had he walked into the room at that moment.  He
had kept this child a prisoner, never even allowed her outside, let alone to
school!  No wonder she was so strange.

"No, not because I am blind, but because I have magic," Deirdre said simply.  "I
helped Eric bring you here. I hold your boyfriend's magic."

"How...?" Estella began.

But Deirdre had turned her face away.  "I'm tired," she said, "please go away
now."

Estella didn't have the heart to press this delicate child any further. She went to
the door and opened it, and was escorted back to her cell by the silent thug.

She was brought a meal, of sorts, awhile later.  "Let me talk to Eric," she
requested of the guard.

"Oh, he'll be coming to see you," the thug assured her.  "So just shut up and
eat."

She shut up and ate.

Time passed, and her door was unlocked again.  

"I've brought you a visitor," Eric said.  He stepped aside, and two of the thugs
entered, dragging someone between them.  It was Ray. Bruised, swollen-lipped,
but alive.
                                      
Estella didn't waste time asking dumb questions, like "Are you okay?", because
he wasn't, or "What did they do to you?" because it was painfully obvious what
they had.  She glared at Eric, who merely looked amused, and sat Ray down in
the one chair.

"Have you had anything to eat?" Estella asked, wishing she hadn't eaten all of
the food that had been brought to her.

He nodded.  "Looks worse than it is," he whispered.

"Don't bullshit me, Ray," she replied.

"Nothing's broken.  I've had worse."

"But this time," said Eric conversationally, "if you refuse me, then my assistants
will do the same thing.  To your girlfriend."

"My mother is going to take you to pieces," Estella told him.

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