And The Hunt Is On

"My kind, huh?" But the angel is already gone. A shake of his head, and Danny returns to collecting a few more less ancient-looking books than the first. No time for musing; time for work. After reopening the shop, Danny returns to his desk and proceeds to begin pouring through the selected texts. The occasional customer distracts him every now and again, but his focus is as such where he can always find his place and pick right up where he left off. Thankfully, none of them are particularly curious or giggly today. Things continues this way for several more hours; every now and again the selection of books changed. Arcane symbols, practice glyphs, and page numbers are scribbled on a legal pad as he goes. At one point he's even forced to pull out his laptop - yes he has one! - to check out a thing or two. Namely signs and portents. And that's when he stops. "...Huh." Standing, he goes to lock up the store. "Alright, Isiael. I've found something."

What, is his name some sort of insta-summon or something? It sure seems that way. It takes less than a minute after Danny says something, and then fwoosh!, an angel's back in his study. A hapless piece of paper that was sitting on the desk flutters to the sky and does impressive acrobatics before falling back to the floor. "I found nothing," he says, disgruntled. He tracks after Danny, though. "What did you find?"

Danny starts a little. Does anyone ever get used to an angel popping in on them? At least he recovers quickly and hides his surprise well. "Demons," he says, arriving at his desk and turning the laptop around so Isiael can see. "Dead livestock in western Massachusetts. There are other signs as well. Something's come to Boston. And it seems an odd coincidence that it happens just as an angel shows up on my doorstep." The man shuts the computer and then grabs up his notepad. "Demons I can track. Especially big ones. The Enochian sigils are harder, but I've got a workaround for those." Tapping his shoulder with the pad, however, he waits. "I'm sure it occurred to you to look for demons. Why didn't you mention them?"

The angel, predictably, doesn't seem very surprised. He leans on the desk and looks at the laptop, reading the page. And then, he's apparently at least seen a laptop before, as he knows enough to poke and prod at it for a moment to get it to scroll down, but it's slightly like watching someone's grandpa use it. And, he finishes reading, and as the laptop shuts he steps back, a shadowed expression on his face. "Because I wasn't sure," he says, frankly. "But now I am. So that's why they sent me here, then." That masks a hint of undirected (or, at least, undirected at Danny) aggravation, but it's not voiced. "If the demons have it, they know what the sigils are for. If they know what they are for, they know how to keep me from seeing them." Grumble. "What workaround?"

Yeah. Of course he was keeping that little tidbit to himself. Danny rubs his forehead, sliding his bangs back across his head. Angels. "Well that's the point. You can't see it. But you can see everything else. What I can do is give you a bird's eye view of the Back Bay through a scrying pool and a little ritual I know. Wherever you can't see clearly is likely where your artifact is." He continues talking as he moves to the back, glancing at his notepad as he passes through the stacks. "I'd do it myself, but if I look at it, I won't see anything. However, if I enhance the scattering effect of the Enochian sigils through this ritual, and focus it through the scrying pool, it should distort the image a little. Like light through water. It should be enough for you to tell what area looks different or distorted. It won't give us an exact location, but we should be able to narrow it down to a block, or maybe a row of houses. A small enough area to search."

Isiael lifts his brows marginally. He's impressed, apparently. He pauses for a long moment, and then nods. "That could work," he agrees. He follows Danny a few steps over towards the back as he goes that direction, enough to keep line of sight, anyway. "Do you have everything you need for it here, or do you require other materials?"

"Mostly," Danny says, leaving Isiael by the coffee table, upon which there is already a clear, flat-bottomed glass basin sitting on top a blown up map of the Back Bay. "I'm going to need a little angel power-" his voice echoes from the far of the room amidst the sound of some shuffling. "A few drops of your blood should do it. Nothing major." He reappears a moment later with an old book in one hand, a ceramic jug of water in the other, and an obsidian knife tucked into the breast pocket of his jacket. The supplies are set down near the table, the knife flipped out and handed up to Isiael. "After I perform the ritual, cut your hand with this and then dip it into basin." As the angel might expect, the knife is very sharp. Almost supernaturally so. Meanwhile, Danny fills the basin with water from the jug; it's obviously pure, and smells a bit like the mountains. He then hoists up and opens the book, gently pulling aside the silk-ribbon bookmark. A selenite crystal wand is plucked from some other jacket pocket - there are lots of pockets. It's a cargo jacket! "Alright, you ready?"

Isiael takes the knife, rotating it slowly in his hand to look at it; it's clear, at least, he's familiar with such instruments. He doesn't seem surprised by the requirements, and just nods his consent. He watches the water flood the bowl, his features containing a sense of tense clarity, though his grip is loose on the handle of the knife. And, at the question, he nods once. "Yes."

Without any further words, Danny nods. "Nomatca nehuatl," he begins, holding the wand over the water. "NiQuetzalcoatl. NiMatl. Ca nehuatl niYaotl. NiMoquequeloatzin. Atle ipan nitlamati..." The language is of South American extraction, which the angel might immediately begin to connect with nature of his forthcoming blood sacrifice. Danny then begins to scrape some crystal dust from the wand into the water, continuing the prayer. The wand itself is then dipped into the water, stirring the basin. "Tla xihuallauh, Ce-Tecpatl, tezzohuaz titlapallohuaz." Extracting the wand, he then nods to Isiael, finishing the recitation after the blood-soaked knife is dipped into the basin. "Tla xihuallauh Tlatecui." The blood begins to wisp away from the knife like so many snakes, slithering to the edges of the basin where they hit and cloud the pool. "Remove the knife," Danny says to the angel, "And watch." The ripples from the knife echo back and forth across the surface of the water until the blood is evenly distributed. Except it's not. It's evenly distributed everywhere except one place where the blood begins to part, pushed aside by something. "Wow, that, I didn't expect," Danny says, also peering over the basin. To Isiael, the image of that particular street block is distorted, but not so to Danny, who immediately picks up his legal pad and begins scribbling.

The angel cuts his hand without a wince, dipping the blood-tinged blade into the water as directed. Afterwards, he clenches that hand and sets the knife aside, leaning over the basin and watching intently as the images start to form. There's an intense concentration on his features, blue eyes reflecting the bowl and the swirling waters. He breathes out a word or two in an unknown language, but it sounds more like a curse or something similar rather than anything related to the ritual. His eyes don't leave the bowl, but he says, "Get me the map." And, presuming that it's handed over, he watches the bowl while his fingers roam across the map, barely touching the paper. And, without looking, his middle finger presses down on a location, and it's only then he pulls his gaze away. "Here."

Peering partly over the angel's shoulder, Danny lifts up his pen, and points the butt of it against the indicated area. "Yeah, I know that area. That's Marlborough St. and that's Hereford St. It's a long row of brick houses and buildings. Brownstones. But it's late, you can probably pop in and check the places out without anyone noticing you're there." Of course, he doesn't know about angel invisibility! But, details. "Though, like I said. Pretty sure there's demons around. At least one particularly powerful one, too."

Isiael cocks his head a bit to the side, considering all of this information. He works his jaw a little, and then nods, standing. "I'll be right back," he says, and then he's gone, just like that. Sigh, angels.

...luckily, he also meant it when he said 'be right back'. He's only really gone long enough for the phoenix to likely start thinking he's not coming back tonight. When he comes back, the only sign of any exertion is the slightest hint that he's out of breath. And, regardless of where Danny is, he just sort of pops in. "--at least four. That's all that was there. I think I found the right place, though I didn't see the item, and one room was warded against me so I couldn't get in. I think one of them has it on him."

Welp. And he’s off. Having enough smarts to figure out an Angel’s sense of time and his are likely not the same, so ‘right back’ could be a week for all he knows. Given that, Danny decides to just clean up the ritual materials… funneling the angel-blood water back into the jug. That could be useful later. By the time he’s done putting everything away, Isiael is suddenly back. And just as he turns around, of course. “Holy-,” he says, jumping. Rubbing his head for the umpteenth time that day, he listens, nodding. “Well it would be demons who would know how to angel-proof a room,” he observes, folding his arms against his chest, his posture very much ‘and what do you want /me/ to do about it’? “I’m guessing the more powerful demon probably has it. Educated guess. So what are you going to do about it?”

Isiael's features are mostly impassive, even as he startles the other. "Well," he says, turning and pacing as he talks. "I need help. If I can't get in, I can't recover it. And waiting for them to bring it out is not a wise plan." He turns his gaze upon Danny, head tipped in a thoughtful manner. "I need your help. If you can get in and disrupt one of the warding sigils, I can do the rest."

Danny’s lip twitches upward for a moment. There’s something satisfying about having an angel ‘need your help’. “Yeah, okay,” he says, turning to fetch a few things, including the stone from his desk. “But I’ll say now that I don’t like killing a demon’s hosts. I’ll exorcise them if I can, and I’ll leave damage control up to you.” That being the wailing and screaming of the hosts going ‘wtf what happened!’ after the fact. Not so much something he enjoys explaining. Besides, who isn’t going to trust an angel? “I’m ready,” he says, after stuffing the various pockets of his cargo jacket.

Isiael is beginning to look a little tired-out of all this moving around. "My powers are not infinite," he warns. "Depending on what happens here, I may not be able to bring you back here like this." Still, though, he reaches out and touches the Phoenix, closes his eyes, and the next second they are outside of a particular building in the Back Bay district. It's a tall brownstone apartment building, and is much like the rest.

The angel, hands at his sides, looks up toward the building. "Much of this building I can't go into. There are sigils all over it." ...not that anyone else would be able to tell.

As it’s still dark, thankfully no one’s around to point and scream or something. “I’ll be fine,” Danny assures the angel, glancing around. “These buildings are usually wired with security. Don’t suppose there’s anything you can do about that, huh?” Even so, he pulls open his jacket a bit and slides out a little roll of lock picking tools from a hidden pocket therein. “If not, I’m either going to have to kill the power, or we’re going to have to be very quick.”

Looking up towards the building, the angel takes a few steps toward it. "Do what you need to do," he replies in way of answer, features a little tight. "Look for symbols. They should be drawn in blood. If you erase part of them, I can come in." The building is tall, however, and with god knows how many rooms. "Just be careful when you go in. There might be a lot more than I saw."

“Just watch to make sure no reinforcements or surprises show up,” says Danny, stepping forward towards the house. First, he gently steps his way up the stairs of the wooden porch towards the door. The thing needs to actually be unlocked if he wants this to work, so he busies himself with that. It takes a few moments, but eventually there’s a soft ‘click’. Holding up his hands to make sure no alarm suddenly blares (and none do), he stows the tools and then pads back down the stairs and holds up a finger to the angel. He’ll be right back. And jogs quickly around the block so he can get to the place’s rear and find the damn power or security box. Either way.

Isiael can really only watch helplessly as the phoenix leaves, and he, again, stands there somewhat awkwardly for a moment or two before just staking out watch in front of the place. Here's hoping no one busts him for loitering.

The power source, to one knowing what they are looking for, is fairly simple to locate. It is connected to an apartment power grid, with the fuse box and meter for every apartment (numbered) inside of a locked box. The box is locked with a combination lock instead of a lock and key, though.

With a huff, Danny slows as he nears the box, glancing around to make sure no one’s looming. That’s when he notices the combination lock. Lovely. Sure, there was a lengthy ritual he could perform to learn the combination, but, time. Always time. Well, quick fix. The man grips the lock and exhales sharply, channeling a flash of phoenix-heat into the thing, and then yanks hard. Crack. Hopefully no one heard that. Regardless, the power to the house in question is promptly turned off, and Danny swiftly jogs back to the angel. He keeps the broken lock in his pocket. No evidence is the best evidence.

The lock gives way with a bit of effort, and indeed, there isn't anyone that comes running to check it out. Lucky, lucky. The box is otherwise left open to his devices, and it doesn't take long for the power to the building to shut off. It's late enough to where there's only a handful of people directly affected.

In the ten minutes it took for Danny to do all this, the angel hasn't moved from the spot he left him in. In fact, he's still regarding the building fairly passively, and he looks over toward the other as he re-approaches. "Did you take care of it already?" He seems a bit uncertain about this, though.

“Enough,” Danny says, slowing down and glancing towards the building. “Most of the security should be off. I’m sure there’s battery backup power or something for some of it, but we have enough time to do what we need to do.” And that said, a certain Repulsion stone is pulled from a pocket (also a small utility flashlight), and he slinks up to the door once again. He glances over his shoulder at the angel, and then he opens the previously unlocked door and enters the house. Quiet-like.

Isiael looks a little strained as he's left again. "I'll wait here," he mutters as Danny moves off - not that he particularly has any choice. "I'll know when the wards go down."

Danny enters the lobby, which currently has no one around. It's a fairly standard building - lobby on the first floor, with stairs and elevators going up to higher floors. The place is deathly quiet, however - either no one knows he's there or everyone does, which is certainly not a comfort. There is nothing amiss here, at least not immediately.

Assuming he’s already been found out, Danny turns on his flashlight so he can actually /see/. What with the power off and all that. Right, now to find the damn glyphs. Sticking the flashlight in his mouth and holding it with his teeth (unwilling as he is to put away the Repulsion stone), Danny fishes out a small vial of ash – the same ash from the tracking ritual before – and finagles the thing open. The stuff is tossed into the air – still charged with the energy signature of the artifact – and then the vial is stowed. Danny grabs his flashlight and waves the beam after the ash so he can see in what general direction the stuff is floating. Hopefully the demons didn’t Macarena around the house with the thing and went straight to the wards, or the ash is likely to just float everywhere, unhelpfully.

The particles in the lightbeam glimmer faintly, swirling in the air. They do dissipate a little, suggesting the thing wasn't taken directly, but directly enough. The ash floats upwards in the light, heading upward. Presuming he follows it, it goes up the stairs and up to the third floor. There is a marking on each landing of the stairs - the same sigil in Enochian, drawn with blood (dried blood, by this point). Well, if that's the case, they're not taking many pains to hide their presence, meaning that the whole place is probably overrun, though it's questionable how many are here.

Hello, blood. And hello, shoes, what have lovely soles that are great for scuffing up carefully prepared ancient glyphs. Scuff. Danny makes it a point to disturb each glyph as he goes; even a tiny scuff will do – so long as a line is broken. Still following the trail, the light beam is cast around, its holder wary of a demon falling from the ceiling or something. He’s still got a few tricks up his sleeve… they might actually be up his sleeve, too. But, you know, not getting tossed around would be great.

It's strange how quiet the place is, really. The glyphs are scuffed and removed with no difficulty. The ash trail is followed easily enough, and it funnels into the locked door of one of the apartments through the keyhole.

It's there on the first floor that Danny meets his first person - he's walking down the hallway, and by all outward appearances seems normal; he's carrying a flashlight as well, and is in a security outfit. He's middle-aged, perhaps in his forties or fifties. "Can I help you, son? Best to stay inside until we get the power situation dealt with."

Danny grumbles to himself and evades the question by jerking his head in the direction behind him. "Did you know there was blood on the stairs? It looked like a lot. Way too much for an accident; I’m thinking of calling the cops." There, let’s see how he deals with that. “But maybe you should go look at it first.” And let me break into this apartment, right here, thanks.

The man looks to the stairs, shining the light in that direction. He tips his head to the left just slightly, and then walks over toward Danny. "Oh, I know it's there," he says, and Danny has a brief flicker of warning there as the man's eyes go black, a grin spreading across his features as he flings a hand up, and, well, you know how he didn't want to get tossed around? Well, unfortunately, it looks like he won't be so lucky. "In fact, I don't think we want to go cleaning it up, do we?"

Balls. “Never have someone else do what you can do yourself,” Danny says, holding out the Repulsion stone with one hand and quickly fingering the hand-held tape recorder in his pocket all in one smooth motion. Click. Play. “Exorcizamus te, omnis immundus spiritus…” it begins, in his voice. So hey, no one can say he didn’t do it himself, eh? At least this way if he’s flung about, the tape-player will keep reciting the Exorcism chant. In theory.

The force buffets the phoenix just as he gets the repulsion stone out; he's still tossed back a few steps, but his back collides hard with the wall and he manages to keep his feet. Still, ow. The demon, meanwhile, takes a few steps forward with a sneer pulling across his features, but he's suddenly caught hard mid-step. He drops the light, and it bangs to the ground, clattering and flickering wildly. The demon clutches his hands to his ears, and screams horribly. A few writhing moments later, and the demon smokes out, leaving the poor crumpled (and mercifully unconscious) host behind. And, despite all the noise, all is back to quiet.

Smack. Thud. Ow. But, hell yeah – his half-baked plan worked. He’s doing pretty well with those today. Although half-baked for him is probably overdone to most people, but hey. Details. The tape player is then clicked off. Best not draw more unwanted attention. Now time for the freaking door. Danny gingerly steps over the fallen man – poor sod; hopefully he won’t be afraid of the dark after this. Once at the door, he pulls out his lockpicking tools again and gets to work – flashlight in his mouth.

Unlocking the door goes as planned, and the door slides open. And, of course, there's two people inside, both of which have guns pointed at the door. "Well, well," drawls one, a taller blonde dude with a mohawk, "You do know that breaking and entering's a crime, don't you?"

The two, presumably demons, don't seem all that concerned with dealing with the intruder. "--and if you go for that recording..." the other, a woman in her 30s, says, leaving the rest for interpretation. "Come on inside, dear, we've been waiting." The final sigil is on the inside of the door. Sigh.

"Don't need to," replies Danny, gruffly. No, not playing with guns. He hates guns. Why does it always have to be guns? "Have a gift," he adds, tossing the Repulsion stone between them, since it's already in his hand. Sadly, the magic fades as soon as it leaves his grip, but hey, it works as a distraction - because he dives back out the door at the same time. Better his leg shot than his head. With no time to spare, he yanks a flashbang out of yet another pocket - and tosses it into the room. Possess a mortal body will you? Have fun with that. Bang!

Oh, what confusion. The stone is tossed, the woman honks a, "Hey!" and the dude's thoroughly distracted by it, leaping back as though it's going to bite him. The woman manages to fire a shot off, but the bullet just chips into the door inches away from Danny, sending splinters scattering over him.

The flashbang flies into the room, going off, and there's lots of noise and shouting and lots of clunking as demons stumble around, blinded. It gives Danny some time to plan - but not long, as it sounds like they're already getting things together and stomping his way.

As it turns out, Danny's plan is pretty simple: Don't look directly at the flashbang, and get out the switchblade with one hand, tape recorder in the other. Wait for the yelling, ignore the ringing of his ears, and then leap for the inside of the door to get one good scratch on that sigil while pressing play on the recorder and sliding it into the room. Now, which one do they deal with first? Decisions! Meanwhile: "Dear Isiael," he says, with a ker-scratch. "I like this shirt. I'd prefer not to be shot in it. Sincerely, Running the Fuck Away."

It's almost instant. The scratch appears, and so does the Angel. In fact, he appears in the room, and actively takes a freaking bullet without a flinch. The recording starts just as one hand flashes outward to press palm-down on the demon's forehead, which exorcises the woman in a flash. The other, meanwhile, is busy shrieking and rolling on the floor, and the recording takes care of that one a moment later.

"Are you alright?" Wow, lookit that, he actually can exhibit some sign of concern, at least. And then he straightens, stepping with a crinkled brow back into the room. "One of them is missing. I bet that's the one that has it. Did you see anyone leave?"

Well that's spiffy. His ears still ringing, it takes Danny a moment to recoup, which also gives him a moment to check his various limbs to make sure he didn't miss a profusely bleeding wound. "I exorcised some security guy in the hall," he explains, resisting the urge to speak Loudly so he can hear himself over the ear-ringing. "But I didn't see anyone else. The trail lead here, but all that means is that it /was/ here at some point." Standing, Danny rubs his ears again and goes to collect his stone and recorder, shutting the latter off. "But I haven't explored the whole building yet. This was kind of loud, though." He thumbs to the used flashbang on the floor.

"I heard it outside," the angel agrees, walking through the room. The room is in decent shape, for having demons occupy it. The two are out for the count, and, after looking down at them for a moment, Isiael apparently decides that they are still okay. "This room was the one that was guarded. So it--must be here. Must still be here, unless there's another way out--" That precedes him heading into the bedroom, but by the lack of battle-noises, it must be otherwise unoccupied.

Danny meanwhile brushes himself off and peeks out the main door. He then shuts it. "I don't see anyone," he says, now finally being able to hear at a normal volume again. With nothing better to do, he begins investigating the room for clues, especially the bodies of the fallen. Who knows, maybe demons write notes to themselves. "Find anything?"

No such luck. Isiael comes back in, looking frustrated. He also has a hole blown in his clothes that's a little bloody, but it apparently didn't hurt him very much, as he's still walking and not paying it any mind despite the fact it probably would have been a killing blow. He reaches a hand upward, raking fingers back through his hair in a very human fashion, and lets that hand rest on the back of his neck as he just looks down at one of the bodies, though the focus of his eyes suggests that his thoughts are elsewhere. "So either he knew we were coming and ran," he considers, "Or this place was just a diversion, or --it's still here. Somewhere."

"Uh," grunts the shopkeeper, pointing to Isiael's... hole. "I missed that before." Explanation, please? But, otherwise. "Honestly, I don't know what to tell you. Your thingy certainly /was/ here at some point, but I don't have a way of knowing when, or if it left. Not without another complicated ritual." Glancing around, Danny fingers his beard-stubble thoughtfully and ponders aloud. "That was a lot of effort for a diversion. My guess would be that it's still here somewhere, behind another layer of obfuscation. Maybe to throw you off the trail just in case you got this close."

Isiael looks down and pulls at his shirt. "She shot me," he says, in the same manner that someone might say 'I stubbed my toe'. He doesn't seem that concerned about it, though he does feel compelled to add, "With the gun." No, with what else, a banana?

The angel breathes out a sigh, though it's one that's a forcing out of tension rather than anything else. "You're probably right," he admits, and he leans on a table, brows furrowed, the heels of his hands pressed hard into the table's edge. "We don't have time to search the whole place--" And then he registers something, and he's off again, heading toward a nearby closet and pulling it open. He doesn't describe what he's doing, but he reaches up, fiddles with something, and then just tugs at the grate leading up into the crawlspace. It's loose. "Does this connect to the other places?"

Danny just shrugs. "Maybe. That's the case for some houses, and not the case for others. It's certainly a possibility, though," he says, shaking his head. Even if he gets shot, it still usually /hurts/. "It's best if we just check it out, rather than speculating and giving the demons time to gather reinforcements. I didn't exactly plan to deal with more than a few."

Tap. Tap. Heels on wood. Tap. "I thought this little toy might get your attention," chides a smooth, feminine voice from a few paces behind Danny. "And don't worry, cutie, there's only me--Nuh ah. Don't turn around. This is between me and the angel." Though Danny obviously can't see her, it's clear he knows he's in a rather compromising position. And he is, for the woman behind him has a suspiciously familiar orb in one hand, and rather wicked-looking, black-bladed stiletto pointed at the back of his neck. The woman herself is difficult to distinguish, as a silver-black veil hoods and shadows much of her face, though the cold, almost unearthly blue of her eyes aren't hidden in the slightest. The rest of her attire is dark in the same way as her scarf, accented with silver all the way down to her heels, which glitter like stars. "I will release your 'monster' if you don't behave," she says directly to Isiael; the crinkling of her eyes makes it clear she's smiling, her skin both young and ageless all at once. "The matter is simple: I need you to do a little something for me, a very small thing. And then I will promise to not open this little gift." She lifts the sphere a little, holding it out before her just so, centering the angel's attention. "There's also the matter of this man's soul," she adds, looking down her blade almost seductively, "Which I can - and will - pierce, should you manage to steal this little darling away. The resulting loss of energy would be... unfortunate." She waggles the stilleto.

Parked near the table still, Isiael finally huffs and rises. "Right, let's--" And then, the intruder. He stops abruptly as soon as she appears, eyes narrowing and a range of expressions flickering across his features - anger, agitation, unease. He hovers there for a moment, caught in a moment between action and stasis. Fortunately, he chooses to stay, though his fingers curl into fists, so tightly his knuckles are white. Blue eyes snap up to her, though they first turn to the captive Danny before snapping to her. "You know as well as I do that releasing that thing would be ...catastrophic. For us both." The words are gritted tightly out, however. "And I don't work with--" Something there, however, stalls him and he bites his tongue. "What do you want?"

"I'm aware of the situation in 'paradise,'" the woman laughs; the irony is apparently very sweet. "But frankly, I don't care. There is an item that disappeared some time ago. I need you to travel to its last known geographic and temporal location. You will then acquire this item, and leave it for me at a pre-arranged pick-up spot. All the information you need is written on a slip of paper in the pocket of one of these fine people on the floor." Meanwhile, Danny has yet to move, and is looking really, /really/ tired. "In return, I will only hold this little toy of yours hostage, with every intent to keep it sealed, so long as you continue to play nice."

"You know nothing," the angel snaps back, though he's undergoing every effort to keep himself restrained. That spark never ignites, though; it stays as a hard glint in his eyes. There's a war taking place within him, and he's very, very clearly not happy. "Let him go," he says, flatly. "Fine. I will find this--item." It's very clear he's not happy about it, and he's not even that certain about it. "Who are these items for?" His eyes don't leave her for a second, either. Ah, the million dollar question.

"For me," the woman replies easily, her eyes smiling once again. "Nyx." And with that, she backs up and into a shadow, where she fades from view - her presence gone. "Thanks," Danny says, rubbing the back of his head and looking over his shoulder like a specter of the woman might still be there. "A demon?" he wonders aloud.

Isiael just looks... angry, and it's hard to tell where it's directed. Unhappy, too, and deeply, virulently so. He sends Danny a look over that's hard to read, and then turns on his heel and stalks over to one of the unconscious men. He finds the slip of paper after a moment or two, and finally answers: "Something like that," he replies, his voice almost too quiet to be heard. "Are you hurt?" He's checking over the two unconscious people, but seems at least satisfied with that.

"No," says Danny, confident of this, since his neck isn't oozing ichor, or something like that. "I've heard that name before," he adds, "Greek. Goddess of Night, something like that. I'll look into it." Hey, he's interested. But that being said: "I think I can find my way home from here; I'll let you... do whatever you need to do." He turns to go, but adds over his shoulder, "Don't forget that thing you promised me," and leaves before the angel decides to get huffy.

Isiael nods, but doesn't reply vocally. He frowns down at the two unconscious people, and his eyes remain very, very hard. Still, he reaches out and touches both of them on the shoulder, but is gone before they are aware enough to see him. Or ask questions.

So much to do. And, apparently, so much to think about.