thomas walker (slowburned) wrote in shadowlands_ic, @ 2017-09-08 20:49:00 |
|
|||
Entry tags: | bertie eden, thomas walker |
Who: Bertie and Thomas
What: Questions about a certain fae artifact
Where: The Lionhart
When: 4 September, 1888
Warning: None, PG
It had been a long day, which looked like it was going to turn into a long evening. Thomas had talking to witnesses most of the day, thanks to another sex worker being gruesomely murdered in the wee hours of the morning. It was starting to look like they had a monster on their hands. What the hell else was new? Still he had done his due diligence, gathering clues and talking to anyone who might have been around the area at the time. What he needed was a good long rest. That wouldn’t come for a long time now.
It was bordering on the evening, just about time to get supper and Thomas had finally made it to the Lionhart, in order to get something and take it home. He didn’t eat in front of people, since it required taking the mask off and that would certainly put everyone off their appetites. Still he ordered his food, and then lit up a cigarette. Thankfully he could do that without having to take off the mask.
For now he just waited and looked over his notes. Damn shame what was happening, but whoever was out there, cutting up girls was one sick fuck.
Bertie was on his way out, but a familiar face - mask? features? - caught his attention and he veered to the side to join Thomas at the bar. "Inspector. Long day?" Bertie asked with sympathy. Anyone who came in with that look at this hour had been putting additional time on the clock. "Nothing too bad, I hope."
Bertie himself hadn't been out late, for the first time this week. He'd talked himself into giving up on his search for Benson St. Crane after fruitless evenings of wandering the docks and the path to Kensington Gardens. All the talk today had been of a second murder in Whitechapel, and Bertie had let himself be swept along with more relevant matters than a crime he could not even prove had been committed. As Cavendish had pointed out, not unsympathetically, they had enough proven crimes to deal with already.
The murder wasn't Night Watch business, so far as anyone could tell. Inspector Walker, however, worked for Scotland Yard as well. Bertie winced when he put the two together. "You're not tied up in the Whitechapel murders, are you?"
Turning his head, Thomas looked over towards who was speaking to him. Bertie. That wasn't a surprise. The Lionhart was where most of them got a drink at the end of the day. "Very long day," he agreed with a nod of his head. His voice was the same as always, not quite all the way there and rough. Like he had a hard time speaking, which he did, since a good portion of his throat was missing. When he spoke, it was often in short phrases with breaths of air inhaled between them, a lot longer to speak than most.
He wasn't sure what he thought of Bertie. The guy seemed all right, as far as he was concerned. He worked with him, and didn't mind. That was probably a step up from the other assholes that he couldn't stand. Too much self importance and not really giving a shit about the people they were supposed to be helping.
Thomas nodded his head. "Yeah. 'Fraid so. That kind of shit is enough to give you nightmares." Which explained why he was drinking tonight. That poor woman had been gutted like a fish. "You.. up to anything.. fun?"
Fun was not a word Bertie often associated with Night Watch cases. "You could say that, I suppose. Not fun, really, but..." He couldn't go into any detail about his role as liaison for Lord Black, nor was there much to say about the Americans...
The Americans. Who were here tracking valuable, stolen, supernatural items, or dangerous magical weapons, or something of that kind. Just after Bertie had been charged by a madwoman with an icepick to look out for stolen devices for the Unseelie Sidhe. Surely that was too neat to be coincidence.
Bertie danced back and forth between his feet nervously until he forced himself to stop. "Have you had many dealings with the Fae? The..." Mindful of where they were and how sharp ears could be, Bertie lowered his voice and finished, "The Winter Court?"
Fun wasn't the word he'd usually use, but asking if he had been up to anything gruesome and horrible might have put an even further damper on the conversation. A little too real. Maybe it was because he hadn't smirked when he said it. Thomas couldn't smirk though, or at least his face didn't go quite the way it should, so it was hard to tell when he was joking about things. Hence all of his deadpan humor.
At hearing the word Fae, he turned and gave Bertie his full attention. He had already surveyed the room to see who was around, but he wasn't sure who was listening in. He could be discrete though. He leaned in a bit as well. "Not too much of the.. Winter Court.." he said in between breaths. "My mum is.. a lesser... fae from the... Summer.. Court.." he finally managed to get out, in between having to stop for pauses. So he wasn't the most eloquent or dramatic of speakers.
"But I know.. enough.. what.. happened?" he asked quietly.
Bertie's eyes widened at that news--he hadn't known Thomas was Fae, or if he had, he'd forgotten. Bertie chewed on his lower lip and reassessed what he'd been planning to share. If Shiverthorn was ready to knife Bertie because she thought his superiors might be corrupt, he couldn't imagine she'd be any happier about him confiding in a member of another Court. Although maybe she'd trust another Fae more, who could tell?
There was a way to handle this, he thought, which only slightly involved Bertie twisting the truth and implying certain falsehoods in order to ask questions, though if Chief Orwell go wind of it, Bertie might well start worrying about his job. It was his job or his neck right now, however, so Bertie was protecting the latter.
"I'm working on a case that I can't talk much about," Bertie said slowly. So far, so good--that much was true, even if it had nothing to do with the Winter Court.
(So Bertie hoped, anyway.)
"If you happen to come across anything that looks...Fae...would you consider...would you let me know? There are some things I've been asked to look out for which may be dangerous." Bertie hadn't meant to say even that much, but Thomas saw what came across Scotland Yard's desk as well as the Night Watch's, and surely two sets of eyes for such an important task were better than one. "Not to remove them or not report them, by any means, just to look out for them."
Thomas would never consider himself fae. His mother was only just barely so, and he was even less. It wasn't a secret, in fact most of the time he told people about being related to a banshee, in hopes that would get them to be scared off and stop bugging him. He didn't seem to be surprised that Bertie was holding out on him. "Fae.. business is always... secret," he agreed. The few times he'd run into the real deal, he'd often just assumed that they were never telling the truth. Better that way.
He settled back against the bar, wondering if he shouldn't have had a drink while he waited for his food.
"You mean actual things? Items? Not people?" he asked after a moment. That was certainly interesting. "I haven't seen anything, but is this.. a... know it when I see it.. thing, or are you... just looking for.." he had to pause in order to catch his breath. "Dangerous fae junk?"
Just to let him know. Not to get rid of them. Even more interesting.
"Yeah. Can do that." Another pause. "If you... think it's dangerous.. you should.. talk to someone.. before you get .. in over your head.. with fae.. shit. More dangerous than ... vampires and... werewolves."
Bertie laughed nervously. "I'm of the same opinion, believe me. And I am talking to someone." He gave Thomas a moment to take his meaning, during which Bertie peeked at him through his hair, and then asked with badly-feigned nonchalance, "So, any advice? It is things, yes. Objects. One of the fair folk has made a...request."
For a certain value of request, anyway, which included threats at knifepoint. "It's more know it when I see it, I think," Bertie admitted with a frown. "I've seen pictures -" or icy sketches in the air, which was close enough "- but only briefly, not well enough to re-create."
He'd tried--there were papers strewn all around his rooms to attest to that, but none of his drawings had looked quite right. Close, but not correct.
Bertie rubbed the back of his neck and smiled sheepishly. "So...advice?"
Oh! The look of recognition passed over Thomas' face and he nodded. Right. He was the person. Got it. Advice then. "Right uh.." hm. A request to find a fae item that was here and not actually in Fairy, he presumed. That was definitely something. There were probably a lot of things that were here and not in Fairy, but he'd not done a whole lot of research.
"Get.. something.. iron.. keep it with you.. in case. Items might.. be adverse to it.. like.. the fae are.. I think.." he paused a moment, trying to think how to word this. "Depending on what.. it is.. you might.. want to see.. about .. finding it the way.. you'd find .. anything. See who might have.. bought it.. or sold it.. There has to be a black market.. of sorts.. about this.. kind of thing.." There were all kinds of relics and items from supposed supernaturals, real and fake. Sometimes humans sold them and other times it was the supernatural themselves.
Thomas was sure that if there were an item out there and probably someone had it. Unless it was lost in some archaeological pit, there had to be some kind of trace. "Any.. idea.. where the last time.. someone saw it was?"
"Oh," Bertie exclaimed, brightening at the mention of iron. "I hadn't thought of that. That's a very good thought, thank you. I wonder if there's some way to attract Fae items, or Fae, as well." Not that he wanted to deal with any more Fae than he had to, but he caught himself just before blurting that out to a Fae detective inspector and bit his tongue hard to swallow it.
"I don't know about where and when it disappeared, no." Bertie frowned. He should have asked more questions, but he hadn't been at his most clear-headed at the time. "I could ask," he ventured tentatively, "about black markets and missing Fae items, but I think I might bring down...unwanted attention." Which he was really, truly, loath to do.
"I have a means of summoning a contact," Bertie told Thomas, not a little uneasily, "but...ah...the implication was that if I proved less than useful..." He drew his finger across his throat, then adjusted his tie nervously before he could start to feel as though it were choking him.
Thomas shook his head after a moment, "Don't know of any.. off hand. Might be some.. I'll ask.." And by that, he meant that he would ask his mother. She would know, and it wasn't like she was a town gossip or anything of the sort. She tended to mind her own business, considering how far along in age she was. They might age a bit slower, but not like true fae. Everyone thought of her as a grandmother, despite that she had never had any grandchildren.
"Might.. be your best.. lead.. asking about.. where it went missing." And then follow the leads from there. Though he hadn't worked a lot of robberies and the like, his own basic detective work told him to start from that point and then work backwards. Or forwards, depending on how you viewed it. "I'd.. avoid asking.. untoward.. questions. Whoever wants you to find it.. ask them if they know where.. it was last seen. If you get a location.. I'd.." he cleared his throat. "For instance.. if I was looking for an expensive.. bowl.. used by.. King.. whatever. I'd go and ask if they had any antique.. dinner wear.. come through. Get them to show you everything.. not just.. ask.. right out.. what you're looking for."
That was the way he would do it, but then also he probably wouldn't care if it attracted unwanted attention. So he shrugged his shoulders as if to say take it for what it was worth. "Summoning.. like.. summoning? You should.. avoid that.. at all costs."
Bertie's hands fluttered like panicked birds at that realization. "Oh, no! Yes, it is, quite. Summoning, I mean. Oh dear." It made sense, then, why Shiverthorn had been so set against Bertie using the stone she'd given him unless he had actual information to offer.
He nodded as he thought through all that Thomas had said. "You're right, though...I should find a way to do some investigating without drawing attention, perhaps rather than hoping these...items...fall into the hands of law enforcement able to deal with them." He paused briefly, then asked, "What would you do, should you find the bowl? Would you take it to...er...King Whatever? Or would you bring it in to the Night Watch, and then inform King Whatever that they had it?"
It was a tricky order of business, that. And not one that Shiverthorn would look kindly on if Bertie chose incorrectly, he thought, in spite of her choosing him for his loyalty to the Night Watch.
Well, that and his expendability. She'd been very clear on that.
"Fae.. only .. want to make deals.. and you never.. really know what you're.. summoning," he agreed with a nod of his head. He wanted to keep Bertie safe, and if that meant ratting out some fae politics, then he didn't give a shit. Even if he was related to him, he was more human than anything, and getting wrapped up in fae stuff was almost worst than tangling with vampires or werewolves.
He paused then, only because someone had brought out his meal all wrapped up in paper and a bag and handed it over. Thomas reached into his pocket and brought out the money to pay, before turning his attention back to Bertie.
"I'd bring it to someone.. who could.. identify it properly.. and maybe you should.. hire.. someone .. more.. stealthy.. to look into where it last was," he said then. "Did they say why they need the item? Because you shouldn't trust that either. Which is why.. you should figure out.. what it really does.." Anything about this could be a lie. "Fae don't.. tell the truth.. unless they have to."
Bertie nodded along in agreement until Thomas reached the question about why Shiverthorn wanted the items, at which point he changed mid-nod to shaking his head, and then paused to reconsider. "She said she wanted them for..." Mab, Bertie mouthed, not trusting supernatural hearing around them, and having been freshly reminded of how dangerous it could be to call faeries by name or summon them.
"But I only have her word for that," he finished, drumming his fingers worriedly on the bar. "And for her suspicions that there might be..." He stopped, having forgotten what he had and hadn't said already. He didn't think he'd brought up the word 'corruption', as that could be taken as an insult. "She doesn't trust the Night Watch," Bertie sighed. "And I do, but my opinion matters very little."
Thomas wished he knew enough to know if it sounded like getting things for Mab was something that happened often, or if that kind of thing was obviously a ruse. Something else he could ask his mother about, he supposed. He nodded, but didn't say anything for a moment. "So she came to you.. because she thinks you're.. trustworthy.. or naive. I'd say .. you should look into.. this person.. too, but.. that might be harder to do than.. finding whatever it is.. that they want.." Because sure it might be dangerous to go finding artifacts, but it was assuredly dangerous to go asking questions about a fae's trustworthiness or personality.
"It sounds like.. she could.. be using you.. for whatever reason. Don't know.. maybe everything's on the .. up and up.. but you should research as much.. as you can.. if you don't think.. you should go to Night Watch.. either.. take it.. it someone.. you do trust to be.. impartial." He shrugged a little.
Who did Bertie trust to be impartial? It was a difficult question. Bertie couldn't even call himself impartial, truly, and everyone who came to mind in his confidence - Jamie, Cavendish - likewise had their own loyalties. From this conversation, he felt he could trust Thomas, but he also didn't want to put the man in a difficult position.
Thomas' feelings on Shiverthorn's trustworthiness mirrored Bertie's own, and after a long moment of contemplation, he opened his mouth to speak, only to close it again so abruptly that his teeth clicked.
It might be overcautious, but now that Thomas had mentioned Summoning, Bertie didn't like to take chances with speaking the names of dangerous faeries. Casting about for paper, he finally withdrew the notebook he kept on his person for poetry composition (and the occasional case note).
He paged through to find a blank page, and found something better. Beneath the sketch of a half-remembered faerie artifact, Bertie wrote out Charlindra Shiverthorn.
He turned the page toward Thomas and raised his eyebrows in silent question.
Thomas glanced over and stared at the piece of paper. Charlindra Silverthorn. Huh. If the name was familiar to him, he didn't say anything about it. He just gave a nod of his head. So he was now in on this thing. That was okay, he didn't mind. He would be stupid to trust fae, or think that this wasn't dangerous, but he definitely thought that he could help. This would have to be taken care of very carefully, but he also thought this was important. Not something to just dismiss.
"Give me a day or two, I should have some information. And if you find out the last known whereabouts, I can check that out for you. Give you everything I can figure out, all at once.." he said after a minute.
He had some sources, both on the up and up and some not so savory types. But they were the kind that went undetected, because they were mostly living off the street. He was sure he could find something out though.
Bertie nodded and closed the notebook, hiding the name and sketch away from any curious eyes. "Thank you. Truly," he emphasized, when that didn't feel like enough. "I don't know what I would do, if...well. This isn't something I've felt I could manage on my own."
He looked down at Thomas' bag of food, and offered a friendly smile. "I should leave you to your dinner. If you should ever want company..." Bertie gestured back toward the pub's tables and booths. "You know where to find me." Breaking out into a grin, he clarified, "At the Night Watch. But often here, if I'm not there."
"You're.. welcome.. " Thomas said with a nod of her head. "Everyone needs.. help .. especially with .. fae.." He might come to Bertie one of these days if he ever needed something, but he had never been the kind of person to insist that anyone owed him something. And he was happy to help. Generally he tended to stay away from people, and he wasn't exactly a likable person. The truth was that if he could help prevent shitty people from getting away with things, he was as likeable as they came.
"No one should have to.. deal with all that.. on their own." He was wondering if she'd gone to other people to ask the same thing, and was just waiting to see which one of her lackeys would bring her the item. They might be racing against the clock, for all he knew.
Grabbing a hold of the bag of his food, Thomas finally got up to his feet. "Yeah. I'll find you here.. in a couple of days.. go over.. whatever I've found. Have a .. good.. night.. Bertie."