Meetings and Business Arrangements

"The Reliquary," as the store is aptly named, consists namely of one room for its mundane visitors. There are a number of alcoves with particularly interesting displays; a wall of herbs and teas; an opposing wall of crystals and sundry sparkling minerals; and what would be a general air of New-Agey occult if the shop weren't entirely full of antiques and nestled in the heart of Boston. Instead it has the feel of a dusty, mysterious archive, with books (both new and old) packed on shelves, and the occasional symbol of protection what retails for$19.99.

For the store's more supernatural visitors, there's another room behind the desk what houses lore and more practical artifacts, but it just so happens to be warded against most everything Danny can think of, so it's unlikely anyone's getting in there without his consent. Speaking of Danny. One might expect the store owner to be some floosy cat lady or a white-bearded man with a wand and triangle hat. Maybe after watching the "Dresden Files," the mundanes are less surprised at who they see behind the counter, but Danny is younger with darker features than Harry Dresden, still. Generally bedecked in a simple v-neck layered over by a light cargo jacket or button-down shirt, Danny looks like he might be more appropriately stationed in a gym or at a sports bar. With his rugged and imposing presence, at any given moment, it seems at least half of the patrons are in the store for him and couldn't care less about the merchandise. But they still buy trinkets, and that keeps the store afloat.

Today, it's pushing to just after lunch - a generally quiet time for the shop - as traffic and the desire for food tend to outweigh idle curiosity for his curios. Danny sits behind the counter, pouring over some tome or another, a ratty green ballcap set on his at an akward angle. At least it matches his cargo jacket. Morrissey is currently piping over the shop's speakers: "I am the Sun / I am the Heir... I am human and I need to be loved / Just like everybody else does..."

Unfortunately, some people - or, some creatures - have very little regard for propriety when it comes to actually announcing themselves in a worthwhile fashion. Most people come through a door, or at least knock first. Most people piddle around a shop for at least a short time before getting to the point. Most people--well, this could go on for awhile. At least there's no one in the shop, and whether that was planned or not is entirely up in the air.

At the very least, no one aside from a person who already knows about supernatural things. And, one moment no one is there, and the next moment someone is. This person isn't too tall, non imposing, and despite the sudden appearance, has a very unconcerned and mostly curious expression to his features. And, though the voice is quiet, it's rather to the point: "I need your help finding something." Good way to get shot there, but whatever.

Luckily for the intruder, Danny does /not/ possess a certain revolver. What he /does/ have is an assortment of ready charms and wards, however, one of which is carefully engraved on stone and held up at the first note of unexpected sound in a flurry of movement. Thank goodness for paperweights. Then charm itself is a simple thing - a word of protection in an impressively ancient language. Regardless, the thing is lowered as soon as Danny realizes the "intruder" doesn't appear armed, or prepared for any sort of violence.

"I didn't hear you enter," he apologizes, but doesn't take his seat again. The charm /is/ replaced on the desk, however. "What do you need?" His posture through this entire episode has been one of intent and confidence; a mundane may have believed they he had every faith his little rock would push back demons. Because he does.

The stranger looks at the stone, regarding it with a curious sort of expression. "Useful," he says, frankly. "The rumors I have heard about you seem to be true." He gives a look around the shop and its curiosities before approaching the counter. "My name is Isiael. I'm looking for something that is... hidden from me. And I've heard you are very good at finding things that are hidden." This isn't said so much as a question as just a blanket truth. His gait is relaxed, his voice soft, and he doesn't seem to hold any sort of bad intention toward the place, at least.

The initial reaction is one of displeasure. A grunt, in fact. "That's an Angel name," the man replies gruffly, /now/ retaking his seat. Either the angel wasn't going to hurt him, or it would, and there wasn't tons he could do about it unprepared. Best be comfortable. If it wasn't an angel, he could just set it on fire. "I'm going to assume you're not wasting my time," he says, marking his place in whatever book he was reading, and closing it with a heavy thud. It's a big book. "In which case, you should already know how this works. If you want my help, offer me something I don't already know." Sadly, an angel probably /would/ have something offer, which is both irritating and intriguing all at once. Danny folds his arms and just watches the other creature, occasionally just glancing towards the door. He leaves the 'if you need my help you must really be in trouble' trump card hidden in his poker hand for the moment.

Isiael doesn't really bat much of an eye at his origins being out in the open. He stops only a step away from the desk, looking down towards the book with a mild interest. "I've lost something. It wasn't where I put it before." And, with angels... well, "before" could be fifteen minutes ago or fifteen centuries ago. He looks up, clear blue eyes focusing with a weird intensity on the phoenix. And, whether this is something he's offering or something he's asking isn't too clear, as his inflections and expressions aren't very readable in that way: "What do you know of Enochian?"

Debating how much to actually let on, Danny's expression remains rather flat and neutral. One of those tattoos of his exists to prevent unwanted telepathy, but with angels, who knew if the damn thing was effective or not. Little bit at a time, then. "I know it's how you angels communicate with each-other," he admits, unmoving. His eyes mostly continue to follow the other man as he moves around the room. "There's some very obscure writing about it. Why?"

The angel spots something or another on a shelf in the less 'legit' part of the shop. It's a trinket sort of deal, one of those angled toward protection from generic bad things. He's just looking at it, though. "The thing I lost. It's marked with Enochian sigils. That's why I can't find it." He rolls the trinket around in his palm, looks amused, and then sets it down. "Those keep me from seeing it. If--" and that's when he finally looks back over, "--you can help me find it, I can make it worth your while." One may note he's not discussing what the thing /is/ yet. He's not quite that naive, apparently.

Wonderful. The vague game. Danny closes his eyes for a brief moment, obviously weighing the worth of potential new knowledge over the hassle of working with an angel. Which will inevitably involve demons, or some other nasty. Because it always does. If the last year had taught him anything, at least. Yay, almost-Apocalypse. "First, you're going to have to give me something more than 'worth my while,'" he says, opening his eyes and flicking his gaze back towards the angel. "Second, I'm going to need some idea of what I'm looking for. You'd be surprised the amount of angel-graffiti I've heard about after this past year." So, that's a tentative yes, provided the payment is worthwhile.

Oh, probably lots of nasties. And probably nasties of a more significant sort, if he's coming to a supernatural type of locating service. "There's an artifact I do know the location of. It's of no use to me. But, judging by your--" He glances around the shop, then back towards the other, "--occupation, it could be of use to you. As for what I'm looking for, suffice to say it's important. It's--" There's a moment of hesitation, as he's clearly uncertain as to how much information to give right off the bat. "--it should be somewhere nearby. I was here looking for it."

Danny looks around like he might find a reason /not/ to accept the angel's offer. Aside from the obvious reasons. Alas, all he sees are some messy displays and a bit of dust. "Alright, fine," he says. The opportunity to actually go out and do something is a bit too tempting. "Let's go to the back," he says, standing. With an easy gait, he moves to the front door, locks it, and swaps the 'Open' sign to 'Closed.' "I don't have the back warded against angels," he says, which is as close as the angel is going to get to an invitation, being as vague as he is.

The back room is as one might expect for an archive of information. Books and artifacts litter oddly dustless shelves against the wall and in rows. Towards the back of the room there is an actual study space with a few comfortable-looking chairs, ottomans, a coffee table, and a fireplace that is nursing a small flame. Taking a seat, himself, Danny gestures for the angel to do the same. "So what am I looking for?"

Following the other man into the back room, the angel doesn't look particularly surprised to hear it isn't warded, though he does give the room a look-over. "You have quite a collection," he comments, though whether he's impressed or just making idle commentary is completely left in the air. He takes a seat, as well, though instead of taking the one across from the Phoenix like a normal person he takes the one directly next to him. And, in the process, reaches into the jacket and pulls out a well-worn piece of paper. "This."

It's a drawing of a sphere, though the dimensions are impossible to tell just from the paper alone. Over it, he's drawn (or, presumably him, anyway) all sorts of markings and sigils, some that are recognizable and some that aren't. "It's able to store the soul of one being. Right now, it contains something that should not get loose. It's hidden from angels, demons, and most other things. But it's gone... missing. And you can imagine this is not a desireable thing."

With a short sigh, Danny turns somewhat uncomfortably in his seat to look at the angel and listen to his spiel. Even with his short experience with angels, he should have predicted the irritating lack of social ability. Still, maybe this one will be better than the others. "Yeah, I've heard of such devices, artifacts, whatever. I've seen some shaped like suitcases." He leaves where he may have seen such things up to the angels imagination. If he has one. Still, he reaches out to take the paper and examine the drawing more closely. And the markings. Interesting. "Something that won't run around and tear up Boston, I hope," says Danny dryly, obviously expecting it to be Just That. And probably set loose already. He hands the paper back to Isiael as he stands, moving towards one of the nearby shelves. "It'll be easier if I trace where it's been rather than where it is right now. Powerful artifacts like that leave trace amounts of energy I can find, because no one usually thinks to ward against changes in the environment. We can follow the trail to get closer to the thing, and I can pinpoint its exact location, then. Probably." You know, assuming something powerful isn't squatting on it to keep it hiden.

Isiael looks moderately thoughtful. "I don't think it would destroy Boston before someone found it, but it would cause a lot of damage." He stays where he is as Danny gets up and moves around, though there's a smidgen of discomfort there that hints as to whether or not it's better to stay or get up. He doesn't move, though, and looks down at the paper again. "I can show you where I put it before it disappeared. I'm not... sure when it was taken, but it was probably within the last hundred years." Great. He doesn't bat an eye at that, either. "But I am supposing that it is at high risk, if I was tasked to find it now."

Oh, lovely. Granted, Danny was certainly around 100 years ago, but not in /Boston/. "Well, that's good to hear," the man says, somehow managing dripping sarcasm without skipping a beat. He's in the process of grinding some herbs with a mortar and pestle at the moment, sprinkling in what looks like oil, probably consecrated or holy. It smells nice. "Okay. I'll need you to take me there after I've prepared the ritual materials. They won't keep for very long." When is it never /not/ 'high risk' with angels. Maybe he's just built to dislike overly holy things, the phoenix muses.

Whatever the case, the lucky thing about dealing with people who are highly socially inept is the fact that they don't pick up on displeasure very easily. In fact, the angel just nods once to the dripping sarcasm. "Yes, I was concerned it could be longer." He watches the preparations with a curious consideration, and just nods. "Just let me know when you are ready."

Okay, clearly this angel is /not/ any better than the others. Danny sighs a little. Again. At least dealing with him should be easy then. Mostly. So long as he doesn't turn on the 'I am an ANGEL and my things are MORE IMPORTANT than your things' attitude. Danny glances at the other man and frowns. Yeah, right.

It takes some time, but eventually Danny completes his ritual cocktail and ties the mess up in a bolt of silk, presumably to keep it untainted from outside forces. Grabbing a decanter of some red liquid, he places both items with care into a worn messenger bag, which he shoulders. "I'm ready," he tells the angel... obviously expecting for Isiael to lead the way. Outside.

Isiael sits quietly while the ritual ingrediants are being prepared; really, he's more patient than a human would be, at least, and shows little fidgeting beyond casually regarding the room a few times. And, when the man finally announces his being ready to go, the Angel looks up and rises smoothly, heading his way. And, instead of leading, he simply walks right over and lays a hand on the Phoenix's shoulder. It may seem to be merely a gesture at first, but the effect on immediate contact is near instant. One moment they are in the room...

And the next, they are in a park, alarmingly close to Fenway Park, which is dimmed at the moment. Not a baseball day, apparently. A dog, some short distance away, yaps noisily at the two, but the owner just tells it to hush, apparently having not seen their sudden appearance. And, without further explanation, he just begins walking towards a nearby cove of trees.

That. Was not something Danny had experienced from an angel before. Normally they're just demanding and bounce in and out uninvited. As such, it takes him a moment to realize exactly where he is. "How did--" and Isiael is already walking off. Sigh. Again. There's a lot of that going on today. With little other choice, he follows after, not willing to yell his queries behind the angel and make a fool of himself. The dog is ignored. Yippy dogs are hardly new. "An angel thing. Right," he surmises aloud, once he's caught up.

"You asked me to bring you here," the angel answers with a look around to Danny, cocking his head very slightly. "This was the quickest way." He pauses in a spot that's not really very different from the rest, looks up, and then turns sharply to the right and takes another dozen or so strides. It leads them to an area that has a few trees around it (mostly planted there instead of growing naturally), and a spot that's a little different from the rest. It's slightly sunken in and the grass is dying in about an area with about a three foot diameter. "It was buried here," he says, as though that wasn't obvious. "Very deep. But it's no longer there." Again, obvious.

"No shit," breathes Danny, mostly under his breath. He begins to pull the silk sachet out of his bag while Isiael wanders around. Eventually he makes his way over to the discolored area and crouches slowly. "You weren't kidding," he says, raking a few fingers through the dying grass. "It was pretty nasty, whatever was here." But, regardless, the sachet is placed on the sunken bit, and Danny begins to recite something in Akkadian while pulling out a book of matches. It's a short little poem, or prayer, clearly requiring the immolation of the sachet, as Danny sets the thing on fire with a flick of his wrist. It ignites promptly, in a flash of green. The ashes of the herbal cocktail then begin to float upward with purpose, clearly following a trail of some kind; they then disperse into the atmosphere. Reaching out to snatch some of the ashes, Danny pulls the decanter from his bag, and then crumbles the stuff into whatever liquid that is. Swish. "There's a map of Boston in my bag," he says, unshouldering the thing. "Pull it out and spread it on the ground." From one of the smaller pockets, he retrieves a crystal pendulum, which he then dips into the decanter. "I'm going to hold this over the map. The point of the pendulum should circle the general area where your item is." Which he then proceeds to do.

Isiael watches the ritual, standing off a few steps. Upon the request, however, he looks over the immediate surroundings, reaches for the bag and opens it, and quickly locates and pulls out the map. Locating it, he unfolds it and carefully spreads it on the ground, away from the fires; he doesn't say anything, but rather looks up and waits for Danny with a certain expectation. He is, however, clearly a little anxious about this working, for as much as angels ever get anxious.

The ashes continue to flutter around them, most swirling into the air to be dispersed as ashes generally are. But as Danny holds the pendulum out over the map, several flecks of the stuff begin to swirl around the crystal as if drawn like a magnet. Rocking gently, the point of the crystal suddenly begins to swirl into a long oval shape which gradually rounds out. First, the circle nearly encompasses a whole quadrant of the map, but then it slowly begins to spiral inward, the circle becoming smaller and smaller. Those ashes drift around them until the crystal comfortably settles in a specific pattern that doesn't change, at which point the ashes are blown away by some unseen and unfelt wind.

"There's your trail," Danny says, quickly yanking a sharpie from his pocket while keeping the pendulum hand steady. Her promptly circles the indicated area, then draws his hand back, allowing Isiael to have a look. "It ended somewhere in the Back Bay area. Really rich neighborhood. Lots of privacy. A good place for someone to experiment with artifacts, I guess."

Isiael frowns deeply as he watches the pendulum sway and spin, and that frown only deepens more as the area is settled upon. "That place has a lot of people," he comments, troubled. "If whoever has it uses it there, the destruction could be... considerable." He stands, brows knitting as he looks toward the stadium, though with his eyes mostly unfocused as he thinks. "I can't feel it, and any attempts at me finding it wouldn't work. If we go there and get closer, would you be able to find it there?" There's a lingering anxiety in the way he looks toward Danny - this thing is important to him, apparently. And if not him, then someone who has more oomph than he does.

Danny stands with the map, rolling it up as he speaks. "Maybe that's the idea?" he wagers aloud, shrugging a little. "Not that I have any idea what that level of death would accomplish outright. " Sure there was always the possibility of an Elder Evil involved, but really. Were there that many left anymore? He chuckles to himself, then slips the map into his messenger bag, along with the decanter, etc. and shoulders it again. "Maybe. If it's covered with Enochian sigils and glyphs as you say, I might be able to whip up something. I can track angel wuju to some extent. But if your soulball is warded by something else, then maybe not. Take me back to my shop and let me think about it; we can't really do much more investigating until it's dark, anyways."

The angel's brows continue to knit in a worried fashion, and he looks off in the direction of the aforementioned Back Bay area (with, really, a remarkable sense of direction). He exhales a quiet sigh, and then nods and reaches over to touch the Phoenix's shoulder once again.

Moments later, they are once again in the shop, in the exact point they left. Papers flutter with the effort, but none blow anywhere. He seems a little worn for the effort of transporting twice in such a short period, but otherwise just fine. "I'm not sure why they would have it. I don't think--" he stresses the think part, "--they would know how to release what's inside immediately. I would know if they have by now, anyway."

"Yes, I imagine the mindless destruction might give it away," Danny replies flatly. The disorientation of instant travel slips away much more quickly this time; he adapts fast. He's already moving to replace his remaining supplies in their original locations as the angel continues to worry himself. "I honestly can't speculate much. I haven't had a steady supply of souls to experiment on lately." Again with sarcasm. He pre-empts the angels concern by adding, "That was a joke. Souls are your and demons' domain. What I know is pretty limited in that regard." Still, he pulls out a thick, leather bound tome what appears to consist of actual parchment paper, holding it up briefly. "I'm going to get started on that locator spell. Feel free to stay and... think." He eyes the angel once, and then disappears momentarily into the stacks.

"I know," Isiael replies with a nod. "Your kind doesn't mess with souls." He blinks once as the phoenix disappears, and then stands there awkwardly for a moment or three as though deciding what to do, looking around the room for a few moments. And then, finally, he says: "Call for me by name when you are ready. I'm going to go check on some things." And, with that, there's a flutter and he's abruptly gone. How convenient!

Continued: And The Hunt Is On