Chapter Text
Everyone sleeps in on Monday morning, or at least, those that can. The Monstrous and the Divine opens with Adam and Bolin in the kitchen, Andrew and Steven nowhere to be seen; the bookstore is still closed, the sign on Banjo’s door says Open, and life in Willow River is quiet, peaceful, and back to normal. A sunny Monday morning, the beginning of the work week: plenty of people driving out of town to go to work in Giscome or Prince George, and a couple of yellow-orange school buses trundle along the road, full of kids.
James had gotten very little sleep that night. He’d spent the night pouring over his journals, looking for any mention of rifts and those who seek to use them – if he guessed, he’d say he’d probably gotten three hours of sleep, or so. He quickly popped into the café for a cup of coffee (with maybe too much milk and sugar) in a to-go-cup, then headed over to Banjo’s store, checking the time on his watch: 7:30 am.
His sleep, short as it was, had been fitful. Every time he laid down, he couldn’t help but think that he was wasting time. Every second he spent not working was another second Shane was in danger. Another second of Ryan’s grief. Another second of Xiaolian’s sorrow.
He arrives: Banjo’s store isn’t open yet, but there are lights on inside. James knocks on the front door and hopes he isn’t waking anyone up.
A moment or two later, Banjo comes to the front door, cup of coffee in hand. “Hello, James,” he says, “what brings you here this fine morning?”
James holds up his journal. “I found something.”
Banjo steps back and opens the door, inviting James in. “Let’s hear it,” he says.
James walks past him. “Well, I couldn’t find anything on this specific rift, but I expected that. I am the first of my family out here.” He abruptly turns on his heel. “Oh, sorry for intruding so early Banjo. My mind’s been racing since last night and I ran out of things to do.”
Banjo closes the door and leads him over to an alcove with a small table and a pair of chairs. “Not a problem. Monsters wait for no man. Have a seat, tell me what you’ve found.”
James pulls out a seat and sets out three books; his main journal, “Unconfirmed” and “Universe”. He opens up “Unconfirmed”. “I found a few mentions of something rift-like in the French Alps. A… uh, a ‘convergence of energy’.” He points at the page on which it’s mentioned, covered in Arabic.
Banjo glances over the pages as he sits down. “Afraid I don’t read Arabic, that’s very much Shane’s specialty. But…the French Alps, eh? That sounds familiar…”
“This is just one entry from the mid-1700s. I found another for northeastern China in the 1800s. They both say basically the same thing: ‘in this area the barriers between worlds are thin.’”
Banjo nods. “Yes, that jives with what I know…”
James looks down at his journals, reminding himself of his findings. He opens the last journal and flips to the correct page. “And I found a… I’m not even sure.”
Banjo raises an eyebrow. “Oh?”
“Yeah, there’s a lot. Um… gimme a sec to figure out what’s important…” James trails off as he skims the passage. “It’s talking about parallel universes and spirit realms, and then ‘We know this because of the brave souls who enter these other realms, occasionally with the intent to do so; some return with tales of the future, or the past, or of worlds so unlike our own they could not comprehend–and these come back broken.’ And that’s just fucking out there, and then there’s this shit: ‘the space between the worlds, the fabric of reality itself, which none of this plane can begin to comprehend: the stuff of which the universes are made is brimming with power, an infinite of possibilities. To gain control over this would spell the power of life and death, of creation and destruction, of mortals become gods for the slightest moments before they are torn to shreds and reality rewrites itself in whatever way it sees fit.’“
James pauses and looks over to Banjo. “If you ask me, that’s got motive written all over it, but I’m not even done yet, listen to this: ‘This writer has seen the devastation of a civilization laid low by attempting to harness this energy: should any beings succeed, they would alter the course of reality without question. Of course, one wonders how many times it has already happened and which iteration of the universe we exist in today.’“ James puts the journal back on the table. He raises his arms in the universally understood gesture for what the fuck?
Banjo listens carefully, then takes a moment to consider before speaking. “…I can’t say all of that is too surprising, to be honest. Do you happen to know when this was written?”
“It’s, um…” James squints at the page. “Around 930-940 CE, in the Gregorian calendar.”
“Hm. Alright,” he says. He’s quiet a moment more. “I agree that definitely sounds like a motive, and like I said, that very much jives with what we’ve seen them doing. I wonder what their end goal is… control, or destruction?” He pulls his pipe out of his breast pocket and taps it on his chin. “And I very much wonder about that civilization your writer was talking about. I wonder if Shane or Adam would know.”
James rests his head on his hands. “I’m not sure it matters. Both options end the same.” He looks up at Banjo. “The writer references being in the Sahara, so I would guess…” He thinks for a second before declaring, “Punt. No one knows what happened to Punt.”
Banjo looks impressed. “I’d always heard the Tombalbayes had incredible wealths of knowledge, but it’s another thing entirely to see it in action. I think I’ve heard of Punt once, and I’m a fairly well-read member of the Guard.” He chuckles at himself. “Have you come across anything that might help us stop them?”
James blushes and sits up. “St-stopping them, uh…” He frowns and shrugs. “It seems like the universe has found a fool proof way of stopping them. In the event of not wanting everyone here to die, cease to have ever existed, or whatever happens… my gut says to make sure they can never even open it. It’s kinda game over after that.”
Banjo runs his fingers over the smooth polished wood of the pipe. “Guess so. In which case…we do what we’ve always done. Reason with the ones who can be reasoned with, kill the ones who can’t.” He sighs, heavily. “S’pose it’s too much to ask for some way of locking the interstitial space between the planes of existence to tampering.”
James looks over at his journals. “I’ve got a lot of info on the universe but that may be out of my pay grade.”
Banjo chuckles. “I suspect if there were a way, it would have already happened, and we wouldn’t be in this mess.” He spreads his hands on the tabletop, looking at James intently. “What’s your next step?”
James rubs his face. “Like, two more cups of coffee.” He waves his hand dismissively. “And the super easy task of planning a break in to a facility we know nothing about with people I barely know. Y’know, normal Monday.”
“Well, hopefully we’ll know a little more once Ryan’s done going over the footage he got on Saturday,” Banjo says, “we might have some semblance of a floor plan. Failing that– well…” He looks out the window pensively. “This is not a mission we can afford to fail. We may need to do more reconnaissance before attempting anything more direct.”
James stares off into the distance. “I just hope we have the time.”
Banjo hums agreement. “It’s one hell of a catch-22. Go in too soon, without being ready, risk more lives and possibly fail to rescue Shane. Wait, subject him to God knows what, and hope he can survive. That lanky bastard’s tougher than nails, but…those folks are cruel. I don’t know quite how demons are attached to our physical plane, either, so …” He laughs darkly. “I imagine they’re learning just oodles from him.”
James groans and collapses on the table. “I swear the last four days has felt like six months.”
“I hear ya,” Banjo says, shaking his head, “my God, do I ever hear ya.”
James thinks for a second before looking over to Banjo. “What materials do you have on this area? Maybe if we compare what I have with it.” James shrugs. “We might find something.”
“Do you mean hereabouts in town, the rift here? Or the other areas your journals mention?” Banjo looks thoughtful. “I don’t personally have much on anywhere but here, that’s typically Shane’s department.”
“No, that’s perfect. I know nothing about here and close to everything about the rest of the world.”
“Alright,” Banjo says, getting up and going over to his kitchen cabinets, which he opens–revealing them to be full of books. “What do you want to know?”
James looks at all the books. “Where do you keep your dishes?”
He grins. “The cupboards under the counter.”
James laughs. “Um, how about the mountain. Mount… Perseus?” He says uncertainly.
Banjo scans the spines of his books, then plucks out a thick hand-bound volume. This, he sets down on his counter and opens, flipping pages until he exclaims, “Aha, here it is… Mount Perseus. Strange activity has been recorded in this area for centuries, and oral histories go even further back. Odd creatures wandering the forests, forest fires with no source and not nearly enough damage… Stories of caves in the mountain that are bigger than they should be, that change orientation. Labyrinths. Hunters and scouts getting lost when seeking shelter, returning with stories of otherworldly dreams and unexpected vision quests.”
He flips forward a few pages. “In the mid-eighties, a significant part of the mountain was bought by a mining company, which set up a facility and then promptly went bankrupt and abandoned it. Incidences of cryptids and other strange occurrences increased, however, and when the Willow Guard went to investigate, we found a deep-cover facility hidden in the mountain–this was our first meeting with the Rift-seekers.”
“Since then,” he continues, “research into anomalous occurrences has continued at the facility under unknown authorities. Strange local activity died down to almost nothing in the nineties, though the facility was still very much in operation–it was very internally focused.”
“The Rift-seekers suffered a significant set-back in the early aughts, and a strong presence was not seen until the last few years.” He looks up at James. “We’ve been keeping an eye on them since, and then shit hit the fan last winter.”
While Banjo is talking, James returned to lay face down on the table. “Interesting… Remind me to write that down later. Sounds similar to whatever happened in the Sahara, so I would assume that would make it textbook rift behavior.”
“Agreed,” Banjo replies. “From what you’re saying, and the hints Shane and Adam have let slip, there are several of these around the globe. I don’t know if they’re connected in any way, or if they’re all just…weak spots? Strong spots?” Banjo leans back on the counter and plays with his pipe thoughtfully. “Interesting spots.”
“If my memory serves me, there is a ley line near here. Not so sure about in the Sahara, because we don’t have a specific position.”
Banjo nods. “Ley lines shift to some degree, but the nexuses tend to stay the same, or at least close. There’s been a nexus of ley lines in this general area for as long as anyone’s kept track.”
“Well, it’s as good a theory as any.” James turns his head to smile at Banjo.
“Certainly.” Banjo smiles back, still twisting his pipe through his hands. “Not sure how much it helps us with this infiltration job, though.”
James chuckles. “Probably not at all. I’m just curious by nature.”
“Fair enough, fair enough. So what are your next steps?”
“I think I’ve intruded on your morning enough for one day.” James sits up, stretches, and yawns. “I’ll probably go to M’n’D for breakfast and see if I can catch Cassandra to regroup.”
Banjo nods. “You need me, you know where to find me. I expect there will be a meeting at Ryan’s in the next day or two–I know we’ll have some new information coming in from our crew.”
James gathers up his journals. He turns to leave, adjusting his books to give a small salute. “I’ll see ya soon.”
Banjo gives him a wave. “Sounds good. Keep well, son.”
At the stroke of ten, an infrequent guest enters the Monstrous and the Divine, the little bell above the door announcing his presence. He is a tall, redheaded, pale-skinned, sharp-featured man all in black, including black leather gloves that extend into his shirtsleeves: he is, on the whole, a vaguely discomfiting personage, though if you thought about why you’d have a hard time pinning it. He’s certainly not unpleasant–his most significant affront to social etiquette would have to be that he’s a bit dour of face, and his tone of voice slightly more curt than is customary, but his light Scottish brogue (with strange overtones of Received Pronunciation) is polite as he orders an eggs benedict and a strong coffee, and he nods at the other patrons as he sits down in an armchair by a small table and opens a newspaper.
Approximately five minutes later, Cecilia Tinsley enters the café, orders a full English breakfast, and sits down in the armchair next to the quiet, pale man. As she sits, he–without looking–passes her the section of the newspaper he’s already read, and they continue in this fashion for fifteen minutes more until the paper is done and their food has arrived.
“Good morning, Cecilia,” the man says, raising his mug of well-sugared coffee in formal greeting.
“And to you, Domhnall,” she replies, doing the same with her cup of unadulterated blonde roast. “Do you have a report for me?”
He nods, setting into his eggs benedict. “Yes. You’ll find it very interesting, I’m sure, though it doesn’t make for very good breakfast conversation.”
She spears a link of sausage with her fork. “I bet.”
“When will I have the pleasure of meeting the group that, ah, provided me with my night’s work?” he asks, somewhat delicately. “And who decided my locked doors were an invitation, rather than a warning?”
She snorts. “They can usually be found here in the mornings, I’ve noticed. I imagine you’ll run into a few of them within the next hour. Failing that–we do have an infiltration to plan.”
He nods. “Acceptable. Also, Adam has outdone himself with this hollandaise.”
Xiaolian wakes up slowly, taking a couple of seconds to remember where she was. Going over yesterday’s events in her head, she was grateful that Banjo was still looking after her, but now she’s hungry. Getting up, she makes her way quietly to the kitchen. Something yellow catches her eye: she pulls a banana from the bunch sitting on the counter.
She’s quick to finish. After the last bite, she stares at the banana peel in her hand. An idea came to mind and she dropped the banana peel on the floor. She steps on it carefully with one foot, holding on to the counter with both hands. Slowly, she moves the peel around. “Huh, it’s not as slippery as I thought.” She lets go of the counter and continues moving around on the peel. “Ha, this isn’t anything like the cartoo--.” Her words cut off as her foot slips out from under her and her arms flail as she falls, knocking off a cup on the counter. The air in her lungs whooshes out as her back slams into the floor. She lays there for a couple of seconds, dazed.
Banjo, summoned by the loud bangs of Xiaolian and the cup, enters from the shop section of the building, and smirks as he sees Xiaolian flat on the floor. “Testing physics, eh?” he says, bending to pick up the fallen cup.
“Please don’t tell anyone.” She doesn’t get up from the floor. “If you love me, you’ll never tell anyone.”
He sets the cup back on the counter and offers her a hand up. “Cross my heart and hope to die, kid.”
She takes it and stands up. “You are genuinely the best person in my life. One of them. Like, top three.”
He winks. “And I know it. So, what’s your plan for today?”
“Uh, I was just… I don’t know. Meet up with the others and maybe start working out a plan?” She sighs and slumps against the counter. “I don’t know what I’m supposed to do.”
“Meeting up with the others sounds like a good idea. There should also be some new information coming in from our crew, too. Best to get everyone on the same page.”
“Stealing a body was so much easier. But I can text my group, we’ll probably end up meeting at MnD so I guess I’ll figure it out from there.”
He nods. “It does seem to be home base for your little group.”
“I can’t tell if they’re in love with the food or Adam and Andrew.” She walks over to where her shoes were and slips them on. She also sends a quick text out to everyone except for Owen who doesn’t have a phone and is probably already there.
Banjo snickers. “Por qué no los dos?”
“Big mood.” Xiaolian walks over to give Banjo a quick hug. “Thanks for everything, Banjo.”
He smiles and hugs back. “Any time, kid.”
She gives him a quick kiss on the cheek before she heads out the door to M’n’D.