Emerald City Blues
Tee - Session One
Oh, Lord, give me strength. Why is it always James that calls me in to things outside of my purview? I was having a perfectly moody rainy day at home when the call came. Whenever I see one of his numbers on my caller I.D. I start to worry, which only makes it worse when all he tells me are the bare-bones basics of the situation and asks for my help. How can I say no to someone in need when I’m the only one they can trust? So, sure enough, when I got a call about a foreign demon spirit that I know very little about possessing an innocent Seattle dweller I put away the vinyl, put on my home made raincoat and head on over.
James’ shop always hums with power but tonight it was a beacon of supernatural mojo. Half a block away I started to feel it, like a tingling on your eyelids and fingertips. I murmured a quick prayer to focus myself and opened the door to find two strangers, a transient from Ireland and a little girl that seemed pleased as punch to be there. The shop rarely pleases small children, but the look of unadulterated terror that the ragamuffin was giving her told me enough to stay away from the pair.
James ushered me into the back along with the kitsune host and The Good Doctor. After an exuberant greeting for the doctor and Maxwell, it was business as usual. Within ten minutes I had learned three very important things. 1. The little girl is actually The Morrigan, Irish demigod of war and sovereignty. 2. The kitsune was dying due to her tails being removed. 3. The woman she had possessed was in immediate danger of making her little boy into an orphan.
Since we knew next to nothing about kitsune possession, tail removal or energy flow transfers I got to work in my usual domain: research. By the time I worked my way to the back to use James’ computer and (wonderfully old and obscure) library the little girl/Morrigan had left and I was greeted by Morimoto san, the terrible demon that enjoys torturing James by appearing as his father. Seeing as he cannot harm me unless I allow him to, we have developed a strange relationship, him trying to tempt me away from the Grace of God while I try to make him do things for the good of others. It’s always an interesting exchange.
After about an hour or two of fruitless research, Morimoto san chimed in. His speech has always triggered a visceral fear in me, ever since seeing his first form and watching James bind it. I’ve tried to conceal it but I think he knows how it makes me feel because he certainly loves to talk to me. After playing on my concern for children and innocents, I asked God for guidance and was led directly to the demon’s feet. The phrase “Don’t look a gift horse in the mouth” came to mind. If God Himself has led me to this evil creature for assistance then his information must be extremely valuable and well worth any cost.
Surprisingly, there was no cost for this first taste of assistance. All Morimoto san did was point me to a book in the shop. It turned out to be a type of journal from a previous Champion of God, we’re talking late medieval to early renaissance period writing that spoke of the demons and evils he fought to keep his people safe. So much valuable information! It also detailed what appeared to be a White Court vampire transferring energy into someone else instead of draining them, an interesting procedure that sounds like something that might save the kitsune and her host.
After informing James of the find, he seemed to know just who to call. Within an hour an admittedly gorgeous Asian woman came into the shop, tagged the Irishman as an energy source and strutted into the back. While I tried to inform Conner about the dangers and pleasures of the White court to assuage my guilt at allowing someone to be used in such a way, the half demon herself snatched him away to the back room.
And now we wait. Waiting for a White Court vampire to suck some of the life force out of the servant of The Morrigan so she can try to infuse it into a tailless kitsune. In the back room of a demon-haunted curio shop. While a blood sorcerer, a Champion of God and a half-fae all lounge in the shop proper at one in the morning on a cold Seattle night. Oh, sweet Jesus…