Under a blood red sky

Could things get any worse for Molly? Well, most probably and has been, but this was getting right up there in the top five moments Molly would really like to not have lived through. And honestly? She wasn't sure what was more irritating: being in Jo's body and Jo being in hers or spending yet another moment in a moving car with Bill. It did accomplish one thing. His ability to annoy her managed to make her forget he was a vampire for a little while.

"You don't have to come in," Molly offered in sarcastic sing song. "I know how intimidated you are by magic in general and wizards in specific so thanks for the ride and bye now!" She started towards Harry's front door, pointedly leaving the Twinkie in the car, and not looking back while having the internal mantra in her head of please don't be following me please don't be following me.

The entirety of the fair was ... unsettling. But being one of the so-called creatures of the night, he hardly found it too disturbing. In fact, there was a certain comfort being near the hellmouth. He hated to refer to it as a homecoming, but that wasn't too far from the best description he could come up with. Truth be told, York gave him a fuzzy sort of warm feeling inside of him. Granted, that could have just been bloodlust, because he'd survived on nothing more than the occasional True Blood since his arrival, but Bill liked to imagine that it was more his undead connection to the demon underworld. Or whatever the hell that thing was.

The patronage at the fair was peculiar. There were quite a few mortals. He knew this by their pulsing carotids every time they passed by him and the distinctly living color in their cheeks. Unlike his own ghastly pallor. Having been a man who worked in the sun during his mortal years, one might have expected a more lively glow to his expression. But, alas, the vampiric nature seemed to win out eventually no matter what tone of epidermis one had in life. (This had been confirmed by those of African descent being turned. As they aged, they, too, took on a more pallid complexion.) Lucky for Bill, however, pale didn't look too disarming on him. And in this crowd? Hell, some of the living looked more dead than he did. Particularly the fair workers.

Assuming they were even human, at all.
( Their button-eyed faces were inexplicably gruesome. )

The man with the pipe had his tent set up sort of off of the main drag, away from the noise and the rides. It was at the edge of the fair, near trees, and it was hung with white Christmas lights.

The tent had a sign that read CURIOSITIES, and nothing more. There was an arrow pointing to the tent flap, and an ornate tassel with which to pull back the flap and see inside.

Inside, the man with the pipe waited, seated in an armchair that appeared rather out of place, reading a book. There were tables inside the tent, and glass cases. Items were on the tables, sitting on displays and inside the cases, lit from beneath. A generator hummed next to the tent.

The man with the pipe waited.

Trout Run Road was not such a long distance from the house he'd purchased on the edge of Roth Cemetery. And though it was probably not the wisest of ideas, Bill decided that a trip towards the ruined site of the old psychiatric hospital might shed some proverbial light on the mystery that was York, Pennsylvania. Whilst he could have driven and been there in a matter of minutes, Bill opted to take a more cardiovascular approach to his evening jaunt. He walked.

It was a clear evening, with only a few clouds hazing up the star-dotted sky. The air was chilly with the approach of winter, but not so cold that he felt the need to wear anything more than a long sleeved shirt. He had the benefit of having a certain immunity to the cold, what with being dead and all. He wouldn't be uncomfortable in the outdoors until it started snowing. And, even then, he could have still gone out sans a jacket and still lived to tell the tale. No, the cold had little effect. It was the heat that stirred emotion in him. Perhaps because he had become so unaccustomed to warmth in his second life.

The road was quiet. Since crossing a long field from across the town, he had yet to see a single approaching vehicle. And, once he stepped upon Trout Run, it was as if all life itself seemed to cease. No humming sounds of automobile engines. No nightly calls of owls or other nocturnal beasts. Even the air was still, as if the wind itself had been sucked into a void of nothingness. Bill glanced back in the direction from whence he came, but the lights of the small town were concealed by rows of oak trees. Had he not known that there were the makings of a community behind him, he would have imagined that nothing existed out in this abandoned countryside.
( His shoes echoed on the pavement. )

Molly was feeling better. Staying with Murphy was helping and forcing herself to go outside for lessons at Harry's did even more. She hadn't really seen anyone other than them, and she knew she should probably go talk to Jo and apologize to Dean. They had been nice to her and she bit Dean's head off. They already probably thought she was crazy. She didn't really want them to think she was a mega-bitch on top of it. She was working up to the idea of finding them though, not really wanting to go into the bar Jo worked at just yet.

For now she'd given herself a homework assignment. It was something she could do that would get her out of the apartment but keep her mind occupied and focused. She figured there had to be a reason these gates and Hellmouth were in York. Something that happened that put them there. Maybe if they found out what if anything had happened they could figure out how to shut them down. So off to Kruets Creek Valley Library she went.

The old lady that worked there gave Molly a critical look and a disdainful sniff for how she looked. Molly just smiled pleasantly in return and asked for the local history section. The librarian apparently didn't expect that but sniffed again and pointed Molly in the right direction. Being the cheeky thing that she was Molly waved cheerfully to the lady then didn't quite skip for her destination.

She knew what she was looking for and found it pretty straight away. Any actual book written about the town would be flavored by the author, publishers and editors. She went directly for the bound newspaper clippings. Pacing down the aisle she decided the best place to start was at the beginning so she found the first heavy binding of pages that were laminated for protection, hefted it from the shelf then went to find a table she could occupy to leaf through the articles.

While Julian had the means to buy nearly anything he needed over the internet, there were certain things he preferred to pick up for himself. He was picky about his clothing, for one, since he favored comfort about all else. And his art supplies. Texture and light mattered too much to trust a few two-dimensional images.

He'd only been in York a few months, and already the workers at the antique shops knew him by name. He'd only had the one major mosaic craving, but a few were still setting aside the bold colors and patterns he had preferred. It was nice having that kind of familiarity. Back ho--

No, he sternly reminded himself. Beverly Hills was not home. Never had been. This was. He still didn't understand what had drawn him to this town, but he loved his house and the park behind it.It was almost like the place had been waiting for him.

Back in Beverly, no one had ever given him that kind of recognition. They paid attention to his name, certainly, but only because of the associations with it. Not because it was him.

Julian left the shop and started tucking the packages carefully into the trunk of his Shelby. He was going to finish that mural behind the fireplace, damnit. The scene still pulled at him, wanting to be finished. He'd be holing himself up for a while until it was done, but for now, the sun had set. It was time to get home and start working. He could shop tomorrow, if needed. Stores tended to close up early in town.

Bill stood on the rickety front porch of the Gable estate. It was unfamiliar territory for him. There was a chill in the air that bristled over his already frozen skin. The south had its cold spells, but not like this, and it made him wonder how any of his kind could stand to exist in a part of the country where the weather was as unforgiving as the company. He took in a deep breath, but the surroundings were swamped with strange smells. He missed the sordid humidity of Louisiana, the aroma of Cajun cooking wafting over the marsh, the stagnant heaviness of still waters. If he closed his eyes he could focus his senses. Across the yard a small animal rushed through the leaves. And though his lids were shut, he could feel the glare of the moon spreading out over the lawn. If he were home in Bon Temps, he might not wander so lackadaisically in the full moon. Though he, himself, had little quarrel with werewolves, he knew there was a family of werepanthers in Hotshot that didn't care for vampires. And though he had the age and strength to take down many of them on his own, it was always preferable to avoid a confrontation with other Supernaturals.

But you haven't done a very good job of that, have you, Bill? His conscience chided him. It was true. Here he was, alone in Pennsylvania, when he could have been sharing his bed with a blonde waitress in Louisiana. He wondered (not so briefly) where she was and what she was doing. Was she thinking of him? Was she missing him? Was she trying to forgive him on her own terms? Bill's mind was a wreck of questions, misgivings, and foul deeds that he knew not how to atone for. And though he begged to know otherwise, he felt in his heart (what little was left of it,) that Sookie was pushing him from her mind. He'd made his bed. He'd crossed too many lines with her. And now he was suffering the consequences. He deserved it.

And though he had no need to breathe, his lips parted in a softly exhaled sigh of regret.

He diverted his attention to the brick expanse of his newly acquired home. He imagined that it had been a glorious wonder in its initial construction. He thought it would be admirable in the sunlight, with the vines creeping up to the bedroom windows and the semi-dilapidated porch swing. He would fix that, as soon as he stopped by a twenty-four hour hardware store. (There were more of them now since the Great Revelation.) But if he could not find one, a Wal-Mart would suffice in a pinch. But he wanted to make the house look nice. He wanted to restore it to its previous glory. In case she returned to him. And she would appreciate its glory. Bill knew she would. He imagined that she would gaze up at the brick and instantly relate it to the lavish home in Atlanta where Scarlett stayed with Melanie and her Aunt Pittypat, sharing quips with the rebel Rhett Butler and pining for her beloved Ashley. Except their tale would not be so blase or naive. Sookie would look up in awe and wonder at what Bill had made for her. They would make their incessant apologies to each other, and in one swooping motion he would whisk her off to his bed and ravage her with all the passion and desire he had to offer. And if she could not sense that he was honest in his feelings to the very fiber of his being, then he would walk into the sun and return himself to the Earth.
( He needed to find a bar that was well stocked in synthetic blood. )

It was a gathering that had not been seen in recorded history. Every council leader, every being of power was gathered in the clearing that had been declared Accorded Neutral Territory for the duration of the meeting. Leaders from various nations, packs, clans, courts. Some Harry could recognize immediately. Others, he had only known through rumor. The clearing swelled with power, and Harry himself was distinctly uncomfortable. As the representative of the Unseelie Court, it was his job to ensure the Accords were followed, as well as representing his Queen in this matter. Mab might have had the power to control this lot, but Harry wasn't entirely certain of his own ability to do so.

Still, he took down the names of all those present. And when Fix, the Summer Knight, arrived and stood beside him, Harry was relieved. Fix had been the Summer Knight for several years now, and had more knowledge than Harry would admit. Winter and Summer were perpetually at war, but in this matter, they were united. It was enough of a shock to everyone that Harry suspected many here now had come simply to see what would make the Queens of the Sidhe set aside their eternal struggle and work together.

Arthur Langtry, the Merlin of the White Council, gave Harry a dirty look. He'd never liked Dresden, and fully believed the young wizard to be a time bomb waiting to explode and destroy them all. The fact that this upstart youth had maneuvered his way into power as the Winter Knight did not pass his attention, nor his suspicion. He filed the information away, giving the Knight a barely respectful nod. This answered the question of where Dresden had been the last several months, after being presumed dead.

Mavra, the eldest vampire of the Black Court, avoided Dresden. She loathed the wizard and was determined to see him dead. But at this meeting, he was untouchable. She scowled as he was approached by Lara Raith, who had arrived in proxy for her father, the King of the White Court. Raith flirted openly with Dresden, but the wizard resisted her charms and she moved on through the crowd to take her place.

Harry waited until all the dignitaries were in place, keeping his expression neutral. This was the very last place in the world he wanted to be, but it was his Queen's order. Well, his Queen and Fix's. At least the changeling was in the same boat as him. Before anyone could start to get impatient (and for immortal and semi-immortal beings, they could be damn impatient), Harry nodded to Fix. The changeling quickly drew up his will and closed the circle. Trees surrounding the clearing groaned and shifted, closing the physical circle at the same time a magical barrier was erected. The air immediately began to swell with the pressure of those contained within.

There were plenty of beings who could easily break it and leave. But the matter was ceremonial, traditional. The circle ensured privacy, and no magical communications or scrying could penetrate it. Any technology to do so would have burned out by now, given the magical energies moving about.

"Thank you all for coming," Harry announced, his stern baritone ringing clearly through the clearing. "On behalf of Mab, Queen of Winter, I bid you all welcome. This conclave has been called to address an issue of utmost importance, and one that has attracted the attentions of both Summer and Winter alike." That said, he turned to face a woman in a crisp, cream-colored business suit. "I now open the floor to the representative of the Senior Partners, the Wolf, Ram, and Hart, to give us this most pressing news."

"Thank you, Mr. Dresden," the woman said, her voice very pleasant, like nothing at all was wrong. She rose from her spot at the U-shaped table and began to pace, high heels clicking on the floor.

"Ladies and gentlemen, higher beings," she began, with a nod to a section of the table where, sandwiched between an angel and a demon, a hunter from South Dakota sat. The hunter was incredibly uncomfortable. He scowled.

"I realize that this meeting is... unorthodox at best, but it's to the advantage of everyone here to discuss something that's come to the attention of both the Senior Partners of my firm and Queen Mab. Lights, if you please?"

At the back of the room, a young man in a suit--another lawyer from Wolfram and Hart--hit the lights. The woman turned on a lap top, and a screen on the back wall sprang to life.

"I know we're all familiar with the Hellmouth in Sunnydale," she said. "Some more than others." She offered a smile to Rupert Giles, who sat at the end of the table, nearest the door, just next to a vampire named Nan Flannigan, head of the American Vampire League. "In all of my time at Wolfram and Hart, in all the meetings we have held, all of our plans, not a single employee was aware," she said, clicking a button, "that this existed."

Behind her on the screen, there was an aerial image of an expanse of land.

"Now, I know that looks like just a piece of land in the middle of nowhere," she said, offering everyone a beautiful smile. "And it is. You'd be right to think that." She waited a beat.

( Until it opens. )