10-01-2016, 06:38 PM
Last night's encounter with Nimeda and Mara was still fresh on Jon's mind as he rubbed his reddened eyes. He had sacrificed his rest last night on the airplane in exchange for his jaunt into the Spirit World, and he wasn't sure it had been a fair trade. He took a large gulp from his black coffee. He'd left the lid off the disposable cup so it would cool down faster so he could get it down.
Apparently he'd gotten away from the Regan airport just in time, having snagged a sedan just before the pavilion had been shut down by the TSA. Something about an argument over a taxi. Everyone was jumpy in this town right now. He'd had to do some extra convincing to get them through the security net. A car alarm went off in the distance back in the direction of the airport but he paid it no mind. Jon just wasn't in the mood for delays. Neither was he feeling particularly curious at the moment.
The sedan sped along the Potomac and Jon stared out at the cherry trees by the bank and gulls swooping down over the bay. Nicholas Trano had given him the address of his townhouse right here in Arlington. Pretty soon the airport landscape gave way to houses built in neoclassical design.
There was a security detail parked outside the townhouse when Jon pulled up. Nothing fancy, just a single man in a black suit parked in a black unmarked sedan in front of the house. Probably a driver designated to him from the local police force. Still, his friend was coming up in the world if he rated protection.
Jon stepped out of the sedan. He tipped the driver and instructed his luggage to be sent to his hotel. His Wallet indicated that he was about fifty minutes early. That was probably just fine, though. The man in the suit stepped out to challenge him.
"I'm Jon Little Bird, here on invitation to see Secretary Trano,"
he said to the guard, showing the guard his Wallet.
The agent scanned the code on Jon's Wallet and pushed some buttons on his own, then pointed to the front door with a scowl. "Go up to the sitting room upstairs and wait for him." The guy must be having a bad day or something.
Jon nodded and walked inside. The place was well furnished, indeed. A wide staircase with a dark wooden banister greeted him to the left, and he could see a formal dining room to his right with place settings for a dozen. Jon took the stairs up to the second landing. There were two thick leather armchairs with wooden legs seated at right angles to each other in one corner, across from a bookcase, with a glass coffee table at the foot. It would be a comfortable cigar lounge. A crystal decanter full of an amber liquid sat atop it with two empty tumbler glasses.
Jon moved to take a seat, but heard a noise. A crash and a thump. It came from the end of the hallway. He reached out and seized the power. It came flooding into him, raging fire and liquid ice. His fatigue washed away like a film peeled away from his skin. He couldn't hear anything. No voices, no footsteps...
Jon took a breath and walked down the hall. At the end of it he found a set of closed double wooden doors. He pushed them open. Inside revealed a set of living quarters, elegant yet simple, and balcony doors beyond. A tumbler glass was lying on the floor, its contents spilled out across the stitched carpet. And there with his back to Jon was an old friend, hunched over a serving tray with a half-filled glass in his hand. Or maybe it was a half-empty glass.
"I hope you don't mind I'm early,"
Jon said. "I see you already started without me."
Apparently he'd gotten away from the Regan airport just in time, having snagged a sedan just before the pavilion had been shut down by the TSA. Something about an argument over a taxi. Everyone was jumpy in this town right now. He'd had to do some extra convincing to get them through the security net. A car alarm went off in the distance back in the direction of the airport but he paid it no mind. Jon just wasn't in the mood for delays. Neither was he feeling particularly curious at the moment.
The sedan sped along the Potomac and Jon stared out at the cherry trees by the bank and gulls swooping down over the bay. Nicholas Trano had given him the address of his townhouse right here in Arlington. Pretty soon the airport landscape gave way to houses built in neoclassical design.
There was a security detail parked outside the townhouse when Jon pulled up. Nothing fancy, just a single man in a black suit parked in a black unmarked sedan in front of the house. Probably a driver designated to him from the local police force. Still, his friend was coming up in the world if he rated protection.
Jon stepped out of the sedan. He tipped the driver and instructed his luggage to be sent to his hotel. His Wallet indicated that he was about fifty minutes early. That was probably just fine, though. The man in the suit stepped out to challenge him.
"I'm Jon Little Bird, here on invitation to see Secretary Trano,"
he said to the guard, showing the guard his Wallet.
The agent scanned the code on Jon's Wallet and pushed some buttons on his own, then pointed to the front door with a scowl. "Go up to the sitting room upstairs and wait for him." The guy must be having a bad day or something.
Jon nodded and walked inside. The place was well furnished, indeed. A wide staircase with a dark wooden banister greeted him to the left, and he could see a formal dining room to his right with place settings for a dozen. Jon took the stairs up to the second landing. There were two thick leather armchairs with wooden legs seated at right angles to each other in one corner, across from a bookcase, with a glass coffee table at the foot. It would be a comfortable cigar lounge. A crystal decanter full of an amber liquid sat atop it with two empty tumbler glasses.
Jon moved to take a seat, but heard a noise. A crash and a thump. It came from the end of the hallway. He reached out and seized the power. It came flooding into him, raging fire and liquid ice. His fatigue washed away like a film peeled away from his skin. He couldn't hear anything. No voices, no footsteps...
Jon took a breath and walked down the hall. At the end of it he found a set of closed double wooden doors. He pushed them open. Inside revealed a set of living quarters, elegant yet simple, and balcony doors beyond. A tumbler glass was lying on the floor, its contents spilled out across the stitched carpet. And there with his back to Jon was an old friend, hunched over a serving tray with a half-filled glass in his hand. Or maybe it was a half-empty glass.
"I hope you don't mind I'm early,"
Jon said. "I see you already started without me."