Tea, Truffles, and Terrors from Beyond the Void

“Are you feeding my cat fish? Are you eating the fish?”

Both cats simply blinked innocently at the elf’s questions. “Yes, and?” Cedric finally voiced for them both after a moment.

“Arvenois has never acted like this around anyone else. ...What’d you do? Don’t tell me you’re part cat, too.”

Chuckling, Ced picked off another bit of salmon and held it out to Arvenois, who took it daintily between his teeth. “The first form I took beside my own was a cat. It would only make sense for my natural charm to extend to them.” He’d also made the cat House Blacksilver’s herald animal, which certainly had raised eyebrows, given the extensive sightings of Cait Sidhe around Ashgrove. “I am quite good with the creatures. And I am part cat right now. My inner ear structure, cerebellum, olfactory sensors, and eye structure are all feline. Approximately, that is. I mix and match a little.”

He didn’t mention that he was also exuding cat hormones. To Arvenois, he smelled like happiness, catnip, and some really damn good salmon. The last one was helped by the actual salmon, but the point was that he smelled positively heavenly to a cat.

“I’m ready, yes. I believe these will help us start. A compendium of runes and origins; mystical and demonic creatures, though I’m not certain our suspect falls under the ‘demonic’ category; and an encyclopedia of known enchanted items in history. … It’s terribly heavy. I should get my pajamas as well, as I’ve a feeling our sleepover is going to go well into the morning hours.”

With a grin, Ced bent down a little to allow Arvenois an easy leap from his shoulder to the table, where the spoiled cat continued to munch on their purloined salmon. “Yes, grab your pajamas and stuffed animals. We’ll stay up late watching chick flicks after we’re done researching into the massive bloody wolf and possible end of the world.” He gestured towards the door. “After you, then. Let’s go get Rosalie.”


It was another quick ride through the Underground to Cedric’s apartment that his roleplayer has definitely, 100% determined the location of. What a high-quality writer.

He lead Isa to the parking garage, pulling the keys from his pocket and swinging them around his finger absentmindedly. Stopping beside a black Lexus sedan parked in front of a car charging station, he hit the unlock button. “I’ll be right back with the rock. Won’t take me long.” Turning, he jogged up the stairs (much faster than the elevator) and to his apartment, tucking the cloaked rock and a few of the gold coins from the chest into a bag before making his way back to the parking garage. He unplugged the car and tossed the bag in the back before hopping into the driver’s seat.

“Now. The drive will take us a bit, so take a nap or start reading. I’d take a nap, personally.” Twisting the keys, Ced fired up the car, and the beginning of Avril Lavigne’s masterpiece ‘What the Hell’ beginning to play. Ced stared at Isa as he began to slowly back up the car and lipsync along, silently daring the elf to object to his choice of music.


An hour and a half later, Ced slowed and pulled into a cobblestone path. On either side of them was an ancient forest, the boughs of the massive trees arching over the cobblestones and hanging over an ornate, gothic wrought-iron fence that marked the perimeter of Cedric’s land. Stone gargoyles atop grey brick pillars guarded the path, a similarly intricate wrought iron gate blocking the car’s way.

He slowed the car to a stop in front of it, rolled down the windows, and hit a button on what looked like a garage door opener. The gate slowly swung open, and Ced guided the car through, letting one hand hang out the window in the cool night air and using the other to hit the power button on the music player, letting the sounds of the night filter in. As much as he loved Avril, there was nothing more comforting to him than Ashgrove at night.

The driveway was long and dark, the silvery moonlight filtering through the boughs of the trees. The rustling of the leaves in the wind and soft hooting of an owl were interrupted only by the clang of the gate settling back into place. Ced kept the car going at a slow, calm pace, even though the path itself was fairly direct.

And then the forest parted, and a hill rose up in front of them. Atop it was a Victorian mansion of white brick, black shingles, and cobalt trim, surrounded by the massive ash trees which gave the estate its name and all sorts of blue flowers. In front of the house was a large fountain surrounded by a circular drive. A wide flight of fanned stairs lead from the grand entrance. Standing atop them was an impeccably groomed man in a butler suit.

Ced pulled into the drive and threw the car into park, getting out without shutting it off and retrieving the stone from the back.

“Mr. Blacksilver,” the man greeted him with a bow. “Welcome back to Ashgrove, sir. The books and room you requested are prepared.”

“Watkins,” Ced replied. “Park the car. I will be in my study with my guest.”

Watkins nodded. “Of course, sir.” He turned to Isarquin and gave another bow. “Welcome to Ashgrove, sir. Please ring if you have any need, and I will be more than happy to attend to you.”

Beckoning to Isa, Ced began to scale the steps to his estate, the bag with the stone in it thrown over one shoulder. “I’d offer you a tour, but we’ve got work to do. Maybe in the morning I can show you around and we can go for a ride. My grounds are extensive.”

He threw open the doors, revealing a grandiose lobby. High, vaulted ceilings with an intricate crystal chandelier and sparkling white marble tiles. Ced trotted across the room through massive French doors into a large ballroom complete with a second-story balcony to look out over the dancing floor. At the far side of the room, two grand spiral staircases entwined between each other in a double helix.

He lead Isa all the way to the top of the left staircase, where he scanned his thumb on a fingerprint reader to open the door.

Beyond was actually the third floor balcony of his massive library, overlooking an even larger room filled with books and artifacts from civilizations all across the world. The library was actually the largest room in the whole mansion, a fact that he was rather proud of. Ced went to one of the many shelves and carefully twisted a Chinese jade lion statuette, and with a mechanical whirr, the bookshelf swung out, revealing another staircase.

“Last one, I promise,” Ced murmured as he continued up the stairs and into his study.

Three out of four walls were taken up by bookcases packed with tomes, and the fourth was a bay window that looked out over the western sky. The entire ceiling was an extension of this window, allowing for a practitioner to see the alignments of the stars. Facing the window was a formidable black lacquered desk covered in papers, books, and odd trinkets, its panelling and what could be seen of its top decorated with Tibetan snow lions made of mother-of-pearl and other precious stones. Behind the desk was a similarly styled chair, upholstered in deep blue velvet. The rest of the study was taken up by more bookcases, glass cases displaying artifacts and weapons, and a sitting area of one divan and two armchairs in the same style as the desk. On one corner of the divan was a strange white and black fluffy pillow.

Ced stepped forward and stretched, slinging the bag holding the stone onto his desk. “Moriarty!” he sing-songed. “Where is the love of my life?” Chuckling, he went over to the divan and knelt in front of the pillow. “There she is,” he crooned.

Of all the things in Ced’s life, Moriarty was the best indicator of how poorly he dealt with loss. The cat had died nearly a century ago, and instead of coping like a normal person, he’d employed the best alchemists of the day to devise a construct that could be animated by an aethomancer and kept her fur just as luxurious as when she was alive. She couldn’t move on her own--but he’d fixed that.

“Puck,” he ordered, and his shadow shot from his side and into the cat’s inanimate body. Suddenly, Moriarty’s side began to rise and fall rhythmically, as if she were breathing, and she opened her eyes and gave a tremendous yawn. Ced grinned as the cat stood up and stretched, kneading her claws on the blue velvet and curling her tail.

Moriarty turned and blinked at Isarquin. Her eyes were made of two matching azure sapphires carved from the same stone, and Puck’s shadowy nature provided the pupils for them.

Hopping down from the divan, Moriarty went over to nudge at Isarquin’s leg. “She was a gift from the thirteenth reincarnation of the Dalai Lama,” Ced explained. “Not something I could simply throw away. Especially because Persians are such beautiful cats, don’t you think?” He smiled softly as he watched Moriarty. “And so I grabbed a couple of alchemists who were indebted to me and made her into a magical marvel.”