JACK RUSSELL	ORSON RANDALL	CAGLIOSTRO	LISSA RUSSELL	TOPAZ

Many Years Ago

Jack Russell, the werewolf, was fighting a horrid creature called Algon. His own father, the black magician called Taboo, had transformed the monstrous Algon into his hideous golem-like form. He had been gifted with a golden touch that turned anything he touched into gold, all to make his father the richest magician in history. Taboo had offered up his very soul to the Darkhold in order to accomplish the deed. To his small credit, it had never been Taboo’s intention to make a monster out of his son, but when he had finally succeeded, using both Jack Russell and his familiar Topaz to create his magic, he was too overjoyed to pay much attention to his son’s fate.

The fight between Jack and Algon literally brought down the house. Algon was changing support pillars of the building they were in, a Buddhist temple Taboo called a Mosque, and the golden pillars had nowhere near the strength their stone counterparts had and the building started to crumble. Taboo, however, didn’t care. Though it was immortal Chthon who had guided Taboo’s magic through his writings, the indestructible Darkhold, the black magician stood in front of a golden Buddha statue praising the great philosopher for his divine support of his endeavours. Taboo cut quite a ridiculous figure, dressed in his billowing purple robes and wearing his tiny red fez. The dark eyes and grey goatee completed the picture of the typical black wizard, stupidly shouting foul litanies to Chthon while he addressed the Buddha.

Nevertheless, fate was already conspiring to rob Taboo of his victory. The very statue he stood before started to crumble under it’s own weight as the golden colossus could simply not support itself. As it came crashing down on Taboo he only had time to shout, finally remembering his son. “No! Algon…save me… Save me, my son!” Taboo shouted but the statue was already on him when Jack and Algon stopped fighting long enough to notice.

As Taboo lay dying, the weight of the statue crushing him, he heard a voice in his head. “Taboo! Foul magician! Though I hate you, you were part of what made us great once!”

“Topaz?” Taboo tried to utter, but he simply no longer had enough air in his lungs to voice it.

“No…somebody else. Now, do you want me to reach back in time to save you?” the voice asked, sounding decidedly female in Taboo’s ears.

“Yes! Yes! By great Buddha and Chthon, yes!” the words formed in Taboo’s panicked mind.

“I cannot bring all of you, though. Part of you is already spoken for…” the voice said.

“Just do it, blasted woman!” Taboo tried to say, pushing out the last remaining air out of his crushed lungs. The statue had completely destroyed Taboo’s midsection and, while Jack and Algon continued their fight, soon to end in Algon’s destruction, Taboo died.

Jack ran through the wooded area that was their last stop before reaching New York. He was in full wolf-mode, letting his savage side to the forefront, and he was hunting this night. Although the full moon was still weeks away, he had discussed with Orson how to proceed, as Jack did not want the wolf to get out in the city. Orson told Jack to do what felt right and Jack had decided that he had to let out the wolf this night. The idea behind it was to get it out of his system, so to speak. The wolf-part of Jack always got stronger and more savage the longer he kept it bottled up inside, and Jack hoped that by giving his wild animal side free reign for a night, he would be able to control it just that much better once they entered the city.

The strange part was that, although the werewolf was completely wild, Jack still maintained some awareness and a semblance of control over his actions. Yes, he was hunting on instinct and he felt a savage bloodlust rising inside him as he stalked his prey, a family of rabbits. On the other hand, Jack knew he was relinquishing control in a way and that fact, in turn, made Jack feel like he was still in control. It was a contradiction, Jack knew, but it was working and he was not afraid of his own instincts for the first time in weeks.

When the hunt ended with the capture, kill and eating of the rabbits, Jack had a feeling of tremendous satisfaction. As soon as he had eaten and gorged himself on the fresh meat, Jack’s form shifted back to his more humanoid wolf-appearance and he returned to Orson’s hideous yellow van to sleep. While Orson slept inside, Jack curled up outside under the new moon and slept peacefully and quietly until morning.

“Wake up!” was the first thing Jack heard as he opened his eyes. It was Orson, who had boiled some water on a gas burner and was now brewing coffee. Jack found himself in human form, relaxed and well rested in spite of his busy night.

“Is that almost finished?” Jack asked, pointing at the can over the low burning gas-flame.

“Sure it is, wake you right up!” Orson said, pouring a tin cup of fresh coffee for Jack and handing it to him. Jack to a sip of the hot drink and his eyes went wide.

“Holy Jesus! What is this stuff? My god, I don’t think I’ll ever blink again in this life!” Jack exclaimed.

“Too strong for you? Pussy!” Orson commented with a smile.

“You know, I don’t get you, Orson. You are this badass kung-fu guy from what I gather, and you abuse your body to no end. You drink this stuff, you only eat fast food… How do you do it?” Jack asked.

“My body is in complete harmony. No matter what I do to it, it stays healthy and in top-condition. It’s the Chi…the life-energy inside me.”

“Aren’t you kind of poisoning your life-energy with the way you eat?” Jack asked, sipping his coffee again and getting used to it.

“I’m not talking about my own Chi…in fact, let’s not talk about that at all, okay?” Orson said, once again avoiding any talk of who he was and where he came from.

“But you’re content to poison my…Chi?” Jack asked sarcastically.

“Jack, you’re a wolf and a man, with one soul and one body. You’re mystical. I can’t poison you with coffee. Not unless I include silver or magic in the recipe.”

“You know, that sounds particularly painful, like pouring molten silver down somebody’s throat. Isn’t that something the Incas did to the Conquistadors?” Jack asked

“Funny you should say that,” Orson said, grabbing the paper lying beside him. “Well, not funny in laughing my ass of or something, but more like…funny”

Jack took the paper Orson handed him and looked at the article at which it was folded open. It told of a group of three men and a woman found in the wilderness of Finland dead, molten silver having been poured down their throats. Jack folded the paper shut and looked at the front page. It was the latest issue of the International Inquirer, a tabloid specializing in incredible and often fantastic stories.

“The Inquirer? That’s how you get your news?” Jack said.

“Sure. The interesting stuff any way,” Orson answered.

“Why don’t you read a real paper?”

“Real papers tell only what I already know. The economy is failing, people are doing unspeakable things to each other in the name of love, religion or greed, and there’s too many wars to even take notice anymore,” Orson said, sounding genuinely bitter.

“I suppose,” Jack said, handing the paper back, “but this isn’t news. This is fantasy masquerading as truth.”

“Aren’t we cynical… You have to admit that there’s often a basis of truth in these tales. People see something they don’t understand and put their own spin on it, so it ends up in this rag. But that doesn’t make the facts of the matter any less true.”

Jack shrugged and sipped his coffee some more, but Orson continued. “Take this, for instance. A Buddhist temple in the far east of Bangladesh was destroyed by lightning last week”

“So?”

“Eye-witnesses report the temple was struck over 50 times by lightning in a few minutes time. The monks at the temple had supposedly discovered some means of growing the most amazing fruits and vegetables. Or how about this? In Savannah, Georgia, three super-criminals with snake-themes were found killed in a seafood restaurant. One was turned to wood and then splintered, another was impaled and the third was killed by ice.”

“So? It’s a super-battle. Happens all the time!”

“Right. They brought in experts to thaw him out and they determined that the ice had the structure of deep polar ice, millions of years old! Oh, and the cook of the restaurant disappeared on the same night!” Orson explained.

“So? I still don’t see your point, if you have one…” Jack said sceptically.

“My point is that I’ve been keeping up with stuff like this for decades and, lately, the number of incidents has increased spectacularly. Usually involving death, destruction and all of it of a mystical slant!”

“This is about my so-called mission?” Jack asked.

“Whatever, Jack. If you want to be the sceptic while you yourself are a goddamned werewolf, I’m not going to bother,” Orson said and got up. “Get dressed. We’re leaving in 15 minutes.”

The magician known as Cagliostro had checked into his regular suite at the New York Hilton only three hours ago and already he was cursing himself for ever leaving the glorious city behind to move to Italy. For years he had lived in New York, enjoying a thoroughly hedonistic lifestyle and basically reaping the fruits his long life as a magician had afforded him. Cagliostro was not a young man, having lived for centuries already, but something about New York awoke the youth inside him. The youth he had spent studying magic at the feet of every master he could find throughout the world, eagerly absorbing their knowledge, developing his own skill and working towards his ultimate goal: immortality.

Secure now in his power, after centuries of scheming, learning, experimenting and betrayal, he had finally taken the time to enjoy his life. He had spent decades in New York, changing his name and appearance to avoid the watchful eyes of those who would harm or discover him and disrupt his life as a pleasure-seeking socialite. With his handsome features, long black hair and well-maintained short beard, impeccable taste in clothes and blue eyes, he was very much the dashing gentleman as well as a thrill-seeking youth.

Alas, all good things must come to an end and, for Cagliostro it had been Dr. Strange’s utter destruction of vampirism a few years back. As his immortality was based on a steady supply of vampiric blood, Cagliostro had no choice but to start scheming and working again to sustain his life. Eventually vampires returned but it was too late for Cagliostro to return to his days of debauchery. He had shown himself to the world once again and he had no choice but to return to the mystical community, as a respected and almost revered figure, but nonetheless bound by its ways and traditions.

When a letter arrived a few days ago from a pompous old failure of a wizard named Xandu, Cagliostro was intrigued by his expressed desire to live under his protection. Xandu may have been a failure, but he did have some successes in opposing Dr. Strange, the Sorcerer Supreme. When Xandu didn’t show up on the expected time, Cagliostro became interested. The reports of a massacre among the supernatural denizens of the world had not escaped him, but the fact that magicians were being targeted as well was news to him. A simple mystical investigation turned up Xandu’s mutilated corpse in Memphis, as well as reports of a battle between a Werewolf and a vampire in the same city. Convinced that the two were related, Cagliostro did some further research and discovered that Jack Russell, perhaps the most famous living werewolf, had been seen in town on the same night.

Cagliostro decided he had to meet with Jack. He was the first lead he had found in the mystery of the massacre and, while the rest of the world cowered in fear over the killings that seemed to take place without even the most powerful sorcerers knowing, Cagliostro would handle the matter. The prestige for himself and his domain would be tremendous and the only thing that Cagliostro desired more than power was the admiration of his peers.

After he was done unpacking, a menial task he loathed, Cagliostro went down to the hotel bar and ordered a glass of Napoleon Cognac. It was the one brand in the world he always could depend on, no matter how piss-poor the quality of the establishment he found himself in. It came as no surprise to the wealthy and demanding Cagliostro that the contact whose presence he requested was already waiting for him at the far end of the bar.

“Good morning, Mr. Balsamo,” a good-looking woman with red hair in a black outfit said as she came up to him.

“Ah, Miss North. So good to see you again.”

“I was surprised to hear from you again. We have not spoken in years,” the woman said.

“Business has kept me away from this fine city for far too long, and I am afraid this is but a short visit. Nevertheless, I trust you have already looked into the matter I inquired about?” Cagliostro asked as he took a cigar from his pocket.

“Of course, and I’m afraid you are not allowed to smoke that here anymore,” the woman replied.

“Miss North, you will find that there are many rules that do not apply to Guiseppe Balsamo. Now, as to your assignment, where can I find Lissa Russell?”

“I must say I was surprised at your interest in such a common woman…but then I started my investigation and, as usual, there were some strange circumstances. Did you know she is most likely related to the Russell’s from California? And that she spent years travelling around the world with her brother Jack, getting caught up in all kinds of strange endeavours?”

“Miss North, I would hardly be interested in this woman if she was not in some way extraordinary. Continue.”

“Well, anyway, a few years back she settled down in New York and married one Victor Price, a cousin to Nina Price, the heiress to the Imperial Studios media empire. It appears the boy has not got anything to do with Nina Price, however. He has his own Internet company and Lissa works as a Human Resource consultant for a New York based financial conglomerate. It’s all very unglamorous, I’m afraid”

“Never mind all that. Where can I find her?” Cagliostro asked, smoking his cigar in front of the hotel staff without any interruption.

“You see, this is where it got tricky. It appears she left her home in a hurry about a day before you contacted me. Her husband has filed a missing person report, but nothing has been found yet. He’s terrified for her and has been thinking about hiring some further assistance in locating her. Seeing as she’s five months pregnant, too, the poor man is quite distraught.”

“While really all he had to do was come to you.” Cagliostro smiled. “Now, where can I find her?”

“She’s at the Manhattan Raddison, room 245. Has been since she left her home three days ago, living off of room-service.”

“Splendid. Anything else I should be aware of?”

“Well, as your assignment came in before her husband got back home, I had the first sweep of her home. Nothing out of the ordinary except this,” the woman said and got out an old tape recorder, on which she played back Jack’s spoken message on Lissa’s answering machine.

“That’s her brother, Jack,” the woman said, as she put the tape recorder away. “Now, I can’t be sure but it seems that miss Russell-Price is going out of her way to avoid meeting her brother. Any idea what that is all about, Mr. Balsamo?” the woman asked, as if daring her employer to divulge his secrets.

“Now, Miss North, that would be telling. All in all, it looks like another assignment well handled. I trust you have a report for me to peruse at my leisure?” Cagliostro asked and the woman promptly got a folder out of her bag that she handed to her client.

“Thank you, Miss North. You will find your fee as been transferred into your account as usual.”

“A pleasure, as always. Should you have any further…”

“I will contact you right away, Miss North. Good day,” Cagliostro said, turning to read through the folder. The woman left the bar and walked out of the hotel. Any thoughts she had on the completed assignment could be boiled down to a single statement: she wouldn’t want to trade places with Miss Lissa Russell-Price for all the money in the world.

It was close to nightfall when Jack and Orson checked in to a cheap hotel in the Greenwich Village section of Manhattan. Orson stashed his van somewhere out of sight and the weary travellers unpacked their meager possessions in their separate-yet-adjoining rooms. The rest of the day Orson and Jack had engaged in small talk but not in any meaningful conversation regarding Jack’s mission. Jack had brought up the subject of Iron Fist and the fact that the hero lived in New York, but Orson was as reluctant to discuss it as Jack had been about the supernatural murders and disappearances. The two men had found they liked each other and a friendship seemed to be developing between the two loners, but the important parts and the secrets were left not discussed.

When they had finished their dinner, fast food as usual, Jack told Orson he wanted to stay in for the night. The moon was already up and he did not want to chance the wolf coming out involuntarily while in the city. Orson understood but said he was going out by himself. It had been a long time since he was in New York and he wanted to take in some of the nightlife. Jack told him to have a good time and went up to his room to watch television. He thought about ordering some movies from the hotels PPV-channels but when he saw they only had porn he decided against it. For one, porn usually failed to keep him interested for more then ten minutes, and second, the idea was to avoid excitement.

Jack watched some talk shows on public television and generally fretted over what he was going to tell his sister tomorrow. He practised several speeches and lines in his head but everything sounded like crappy nonsense. His mind drifted back a few years, to the moment when he said his goodbyes to his sister after years spent on the road.

A Few Years Ago

Jack was sitting by Lissa’s side as she lay on her chest in a hospital bed in Los Angeles. The previous day Lissa, Jack and Iron Man had been involved in an incident whereby Morgan Le Fey, a sorceress from Arthurian times, had tried to possess Lissa and the struggle had resulted in Jack, in his savage werewolf-form, clawing his possessed sister in the back. The attack had caused massive injuries and bleeding, but also ended the possession. The good guys had won but, as usual, Lissa had paid the price.

Lissa opened her eyes and saw Jack sitting by her bedside. She smiled at him and Jack smiled back, happy his sister was alive and healing.

“Hey,” Lissa said weakly.

“Hey yourself, sis,” Jack replied.

“So… the good guys won, eh?”

“Yeah, we did…I don’t think Morgan Le Fey will be coming after you again any time soon. You’re more trouble than your worth” Jack said, trying to ease the tension he felt inside with some levity.

“That’s just it, though…if it’s not Morgan, it’ll be somebody else, won’t it Jack?” Lissa asked, speaking softly but very clearly. 

“I’ll protect you, sis. I always do,” Jack answered.

“I know you will, Jack. I know. But do you know what I really want?” Lissa asked.

“What?” Jack asked, feeling uneasily at hearing his sister’s tone of voice.

“I need you to get away from me, Jack. I’ve been doing some thinking, and I just realized that I’ve been kidnapped, possessed or hurt more times than I can remember. And I know it’s not your fault, but I cant help thinking that none of it would have happened it I weren’t around you and your curse all the time,” Lissa said.

“What do you mean?” Jack asked, knowing the answer but wanting to hear it straight from Lissa.

“Just…just leave, Jack. You know I love you; I’ll always love you…but I can’t be around you anymore. You rescued me from inheriting the curse and I’ll always be grateful for that. But I’m trapped by the curse anyway as long as I stay with you,” Lissa said, tears welling up.

“What will you do?” Jack asked, in shock at the fact that a moment he had dreaded for some time was finally coming to pass.

“I don’t know. I have some money saved up. After I’m released, I’ll move across the country, go east. I’m going to try to build a normal life there, Jack. Away from the magicians, the vampires…”

“The wolves…” Jack said sombrely.

“Yes, Jack. Oh, I’m sorry, Jack…But I can’t do this anymore! I can’t live my life like this…” Lissa said, tears streaming down her face.

“I know, Lissa, I…understand,” Jack said, got up and bent over to kiss his sister on the cheek. Tears were welling up inside Jack too by now, but he pushed them away, afraid of his own emotions.

“We’ll… we’ll try to stay in touch, okay?” Jack said as he was leaving the room.

“I’d like that. We’ll find a way…” Lissa said and watched her brother disappear. Jack could hear Lissa sobbing as he walked down the corridor, out of the hospital and finally out of her life. His keen animal hearing made sure of that. Once outside, Jack stood still and cried, realizing that the sister he loved so much was better off without him.

Jack woke up the following morning with a sad feeling. Thinking about how he had parted ways with his sister had made him think about his life and the hardships he had to endure because of his dual nature as a human and a werewolf. He thought about his ancestors and his father in particular, Gregor Russoff. The Curse of the Werewolf had lain dormant in the Russoff family until Gregor, something of an enthusiast and a dabbler in the mystic arts, had come into possession of the Darkhold, the most horrible and vile collection of magic ever to be written. His own father, Jack’s grandfather, had gathered the scattered book together and bound it back into book-form. Jack would never understand what had drawn noble and good men such as his father and grandfather to do such a thing but, at any rate, Gregor Russoff’s reading about the werewolf curse in the Darkhold was what triggered the curse once again, turning him into a werewolf, and also his children.

Through the intervention of the mystical trinity called the Three-Who-Are-All and a strange magical sacrifice by a former enemy called Taboo, Jack’s sister had been cured of the curse. But not Jack; he was doomed to carry the burden of lycanthropy with him until the grave, this much his father’s spirit had made clear to him.

Now, Jack was about to involve his sister in the madness of monsters and magic once again. Not because of anything they inherited from their father, but because of their mother this time. To involved in his own problems with Silver Dagger, Lilith and his loss of control over the werewolf, he had barely considered how it was possible that his mother was alive. When you live in a world where magic is real and people coming back from hell itself has become commonplace, you sometimes tend to start taking things for granted.

Yet, somehow, as Jack started thinking of ways to tell his sister about it he started to question the alleged resurrection of Laura Maria Russell. All in all, the only proof he had was a note in his mother’s handwriting sent to his mail-address and some remarks made by Orson Randall. Was that enough to drag his sister into his world again? Did he even believe it himself? And why would his mother send a stranger like Randall to inform him? The evidence was pretty weak, Jack thought. And then he had not even considered how his mother could have possibly come back from the dead. There was magic and mystery to his family, but it all came from his father’s side. Laura Maria was an unassuming student from Los Angeles who just happened to fall in love with Gregor Russoff; there was nothing mysterious about her. Moreover, Jack had been with his mother when she died from injuries sustained in a car-accident.

Everything about his mother couldn’t be any less mystical. So why would she of all people be the one to suddenly return from the dead and hand him a mission to protect the supernatural world from unknown forces that sought to destroy it?

As he lay questioning himself and the events of the past week, Jack almost convinced himself he didn’t need to go to his sister, and that Orson was full of shit and that he just needed to get out of town, back to the open road. There was one thing, however, that Jack had to consider: instinct. Jack was both man and wolf and, while it was easy to convince his human side that there was nothing strange going on and that the note and Randall’s words were fabrications, his wolf side worked differently. It didn’t think or question, it operated on an entirely different level of consciousness. And on that level, Jack was absolutely sure that the note and Orson were for real.

Jack considered the matter some more, but there really wasn’t any way around it. His mother had come back from the dead, and he had to tell his sister Lissa about it. About an hour later, Jack had eaten and showered and was standing in front of Lissa’s home, an apartment building in Greenwich village. He was extremely nervous and every fiber of his being, including the wolf, screamed at Jack to walk away and leave it be. A typical fight-or-flee reaction, Jack thought, and he had to concentrate fully on his intention to confront his fear of meeting Lissa, as the wolf was struggling inside him to take over and leave.

Several deep breaths later, Jack walked into the building and went up the stairs to Lissa’s spacious luxury apartment. He stood in front of the door, sweating and anxious, and knocked. A man in his thirties opened the door; he looked handsome and cultured, although a beard of several days marred that image. His blond hair was trimmed short and he wore a suit, even when just sitting at home. The suit was wrinkled badly, however, and his tie was hanging a little. Jack got the impression the man had slept in his clothes.

“Victor Price? Uh… hi, my name is Jack. I’m Lissa’s brother…” Jack began.

“Oh! Oh, so you are Jack. Yes, I should have recognized you from your photographs!”

“Right… So, you are Lissa’s husband?” Jack asked stupidly.

“Yes, I am” the man said and Jack noticed a vacant look in the man’s brown eyes.

“Okay… Uh, can I come in?” Jack asked.

“Oh, yes, of course!” the man answered and Jack walked inside. He was led into the living room and looked around the home his sister had made for herself. He recognized lots of features that were also in their parents' house when they were both growing up, such as a large clock, a huge dinner table and many bookshelves. There was also a picture on the wall with Jack and Lissa together, taken during their trip to Transia years ago. It did Jack good to know that Lissa had not completely banished him from her life.

“So…is Lissa in?” Jack asked and turned to face Lissa’s husband. To his surprise, he stood behind him holding a gun pointed at him.

“Where is she?” Victor asked.

“Please…put the gun down,” Jack said calmly, while inside the wolf started to growl.

“Answer me! Where is she?” Victor repeated his question.

“Mr. Price…Victor, I have no idea what you’re talking about, so please put the gun away…for your own sake,” Jack said a little more forcefully, hoping to diffuse the situation before he lost control.

“You show up here, the crazy brother Lissa loves but will never talk about, three days after she vanishes without a trace? I don’t believe you, Jack! Where is she?!”

A growling noise started in Jack’s throat and Victor looked at Jack in fear. Jack saw his hands turn into furry claws and knew he had to act. fast He lunged at Victor, trying to slap the gun from his hand, but it went of before it went flying through the room and a bullet hit Jack in the shoulder.

“Aaarrgghhh” Jack shouted and Victor stepped back, afraid for his life. Jack saw how terrified the man was and focused all his concentration on regaining his composure and shoving the wolf back inside. He succeeded, barely, then slumped down to the floor exhausted and clutching his wound.

“Wha…what…?!” Victor stuttered.

“Shut up! Just shut up!” Jack barked and tore open his shirt. He checked the back of his shoulder and saw there was no exit wound, meaning the bullet was still inside. Gritting his teeth and closing his eyes, Jack moved a finger to his wound and stuck it inside. He poked around a little, and found the bullet. With tears in his eyes from the pain, Jack managed to squeeze and pick out the bullet, collapsing to the ground when he was finished.

“I’m sorry…I’m sorry…” Victor was stammering now, but Jack lifted a hand to shut him up again.

“Just… wait a second, okay? It’ll heal…it always does. I just need to focus a little on not passing out,” Jack groaned.

Victor Price sat watching in shock as Jack felt the wound starting to close and the pain subsiding. He could heal from any wound, as long as it was not magical or silver but, especially in human form, it hurt like hell. When Jack got up again, Victor was still awestruck. No matter how angry Jack was at his brother-in-law, he walked over and offered him a hand to help him up. Victor took it and stood face to face with the man he knew existed but had always been a mystery.

“Okay, Victor, that hurt. Now, shall we start over? Hi, I’m Jack. You’re Victor. Now, where the hell is my sister?!” Jack said, demanding an answer.

“I don’t know! She…she disappeared…” Victor said timidly.

“People don’t just disappear! Not Lissa!” Jack said angrily.

“I swear it’s the truth, Jack! Please! You have to believe me!” Victor answered in a panicked voice, afraid of the man that stood before him.

Jack sighed and growled in frustration. Victor was frightened even more by Jack’s anger, but tried to compose himself. He watched Jack walk around his home and for the first time he understood why Lissa never wanted to talk about Jack. The man was a certified maniac.

“Okay, what do we know?” Jack asked Victor.

“Well, I came back two days ago and Lissa wasn’t here. She hadn’t showed up for work the previous day either and I had not been able to contact her for another day. I called in the police and they looked through the house. It seems she packed, as her suitcase is gone, so the police aren’t taking it to seriously. They think she just ran of and left me. But I know Lissa! She wouldn’t do something like that! She’s so dedicated…”

“Yes, I know…” Jack mumbled, thinking about everything Lissa had endured by sticking by him.

“I’m thinking about calling in some investigators. I have some money,” Victor said.

“You don’t need them. You don’t want them. You have me,” Jack said.

“What do you mean?”

“Just…relax, okay? You’re about to see what you married into,” Jack said and sat down on the floor. He closed his eyes and concentrated on a vision of the full moon. Although it was daytime and there was no moon in the sky, Jack tried with all his might to summon up the wolf part of his being. Slowly, he felt the change come over him. His muscles swelled, his body rocked and contorted. A deep growl began in the back of his throat and he felt his teeth growing and his skin tingling as fur sprouted all over his body. Jack’s rational mind took a step back and a more primal, more instinctive outlook prevailed. Finally, Jack opened his eyes and saw he had turned into the werewolf. Victor had fainted.

Topaz got off the bus at the greyhound station in Savannah. She had taken her time getting to the beautiful Georgia city, famed for its beautiful squares and 19th century architecture. Topaz had never visited the town before and perhaps that was the reason why, of all the targets she could have chosen, she opted for Savannah. After all, strange occurrences were taking place all over the US these days…all over the world, really. The supernatural world was caught in a storm and it seemed that it was still building in strength. If nothing were done soon the storm would turn into a hurricane, sweeping away everyone and everything in its path. The mystical world would be destroyed forever.

“Dark thoughts for such a lovely afternoon” Topaz said to herself, as she noticed people around her, also getting their luggage from the bus, were starting to look sombre and dour. She faulted herself for projecting her emotions so strongly and put on the psychic breaks, reining in her empathic talents. She had to admit, though, that the current situation was troubling her. For a balanced, almost serene empath, that was quite a thing.

After a short walk from the bus stop and checking into to a hotel near the riverside boulevard, Topaz changed into an outfit more suited to Savannah’s warm climate. Wearing a strapless purple top, a black skirt and a pink silk scarf to tie back her long blonde hair, she stepped out of the hotel and crossed the street to the riverside boulevard. As always, a beautiful blonde drew the attention of many people walking the boulevard, mostly men but some women as well. Topaz liked the attention; the admiration and sometimes lustful emotions projected by those who saw her filled her with confidence and strength. She could sense that people instantly liked or wanted her, and it was that power that she would need to get to the bottom of the mystery she had chosen to solve.

Long had she hesitated to get involved; she liked her peaceful life in New York, but she knew that she had to come out of her self-imposed exile from the mystic world if she were to be true to herself and survive. The case she chose to investigate was a strange one and, on the surface, it seemed there was nothing mystical about it. Three low level super-criminals, snake-themed bad guys known as Rattler, Bushmaster and Cottonmouth, had been killed in horrible ways in a Savannah shrimp restaurant. They had been mutilated and blown to bits, one of them in a way involving ice. The strange thing was that the ice was as cold and solid as the ice from the lower layers of the Arctic Circle. On the same night, the restaurants cook had disappeared. No matter how she looked at it, Topaz had sensed intuitively that something very strange of great mystical importance had taken place.

Although it was still very early, the restaurant where the killings had taken place, the Savannah Shrimp, was already open. Topaz walked inside and there were some customers eating shrimp-cocktails and other seafood. There was nothing in the restaurant that reminded of the lethal battle that had claimed the lives of three men only four days ago. The psychic impressions were still there, though, and Topaz sensed the emotions of anger, enjoyment, fear, surprise, pain and disappointment. Perhaps that last emotion was strongest; disappointment, but in what?

“Good morning, Miss. Table for one?” a waiter asked Topaz, disturbing her psychic investigation of the place.

“Oh, yes please. Can I have this one?” Topaz asked and indicated a table on the spot where the disappointed emotions were strongest.

“Very well, miss. Something to drink?”

“Just some water, please. And that shrimp cocktail looks delicious” Topaz answered. The waiter nodded and left as Topaz sat down at the table. She closed her eyes and tried to hone in on the emotions still lingering strongly at the restaurant. She had no way of knowing what exactly went down that night, but she did know the way it had made those involved feel. Topaz guessed that the fight had not gone as planned, and perhaps the victims had been surprised at their opponent. The killer had enjoyed his actions, that much was certain and, in all likelihood, there had been some hate and anger, too. Also, the deaths had been quite painful and, after the first death, the other victims had been scared of what was happening to them. That left the strong sense of disappointment. Topaz couldn’t place it, but she was certain it was the key to finding out what had happened.

“Here you are, Miss,” the waiter said, disturbing Topaz once again, putting down a bottle of Evian, a glass and a shrimp cocktail on her table.

“Thank you. Would you mind answering some questions for me, sir?” Topaz asked. Already knowing the answer as she sensed the middle-aged waiter was quite attracted to her.

“Sure, Miss, what would you like to know?”

“The man who vanished…the cook, a Mr. Wright?” The waiter nodded. “What can you tell me about him?” Topaz asked with a warm smile, regardless of the subject she brought up.

“Ah, Scott… Well, not much to tell, really. He applied for the job several years ago and we hired him. He came in to work every day, left and never said much. A few months ago, he started showing up late for work, looking tired, unshaven, that sort of thing. And then he just vanished,” the waiter said.

“I see,” Topaz answered. “Do you have his address for me?”

“Uh, sorry to be asking, but why?” the waiter asked.

“You see, I’m a psychic. I sometimes work with the police, but they like to keep that off the record,” Topaz lied, making sure not to project her emotions around her.

“Oh, okay, sure. I’ll go get it,” the waiter said, leaving.

About half an hour later, Topaz was on her way to the home of Scott Wright, the cook that had mysteriously disappeared. Topaz did not expect to find much in the dead man’s apartment but went over there nonetheless. It was the sanest lead she had. If it didn’t work out, there was only one other thing she could look into. The emotion of disappointment she felt at the restaurant had been incredibly strong. That meant whoever had felt it was somehow very attached to whatever the meaning was of what went down that night. There was a good chance his spirit was still anchored to his body in some way, and that would mean Topaz had to pay a visit to the morgue.

Cagliostro sat in room 245 of the Manhattan Raddison. He loathed the poor service and quality of the hotel, which was nothing like what he was accustomed to. Through room service he had ordered some food and drink brought up, but the salad he had been served was of the same poor quality as the hotel itself. Thankfully for him, the bottle of Napoleon was just as it was supposed to be, although he did send the waiter back three times before he was satisfied with the glass it was served with.

The dandy-magician was always hungry after completing complex magicks. Even though the spell he had performed was one of his signature-spells, it always left him somewhat drained and in need of replenishment. Chronomancy, the magic of time, was a delicate art that required the full concentration and focus of the wizard working the magic, and the massive energies required to bend time itself to ones will tended to tire a magician, even one of Cagliostro’s calibre. Although not to his liking, the salad had served its need and the cognac washed the mundane and uninspired taste from his mouth. He was getting bored and hoped that soon the object of his search would show up. Until then, a good cigar would have to do to while away the hours.

Jack was running down the streets and avenues of Manhattan, his brother-in-law Victor Price following. He had managed to call out the wolf during the daytime through sheer concentration and force of will. It was a sure sign that the old curse was not working the way it always had before, but right now Jack wasn’t to concerned with that. After he had revived Victor, who had fainted at the sight of Jack’s wolf-form, Jack had started sniffing around the apartment. There were a few distinct smells he could pick up but the one he knew best, Lissa’s, stood out among the others. He had smelled the fear inside his sister and it was clear that when she left the apartment she had been terrified.

That terror had been a blessing to Jack’s endeavour to find Lissa. A normal smell-trail would have been impossible to follow but the smell of the sister he loved, in mortal terror, provided a much better trail, even if it was days old. Of course, Jack also realized what had probably made her flee in terror. A few hours before he left, Jack had left a message on her answering machine. In all likelihood it was that message, in which Jack had said he was coming to see her, that had sent her into hiding. Apparently the thought of being dragged into his world, the world of monsters, demons and wizards, was too horrible for Lissa to face again.

Dressed in a hooded sweater and wide pants, Jack was sniffing his way through Manhattan now, following Lissa’s trail. Victor could barely keep up, panting all the way, and he was near exhausted when Jack stopped in front of the Radisson hotel. Jack did some extra sniffing and searching, drawing strange looks from those passing by, but he was certain of it: Lissa’s trail lead here. Victor suggested that Jack wait in the lobby while he tried to straighten things out at the reception desk and, reluctantly, Jack agreed. In order to take full advantage of his wolf-senses, Jack had had to relinquish a little more control and, as he stood in the lobby, he tried to concentrate on getting that control back. The last thing he wanted was to confront Lissa in full-blown savage werewolf mode.

Victor came back and told Jack he had Lissa’s room number. He had paid the man at the desk for the information and he told Victor that Lissa had checked in under the name Laura Maria Russoff. The irony of Lissa using her mother’s name was not lost of Jack, especially now. Victor urged Jack to calm down and, if possible, to change back into his human form. The weak little man Lissa had married annoyed Jack a great deal and his smell was positively rank with fear. That was the wolf-part of Jack speaking, however. His human side was all to understanding about what the supernatural could mean to those blissfully unaware of it. As he focussed on that thought, Jack’s body shrunk and changed back into his human form.

The two men took the elevator up to the second floor and soon they stood in front of the door to room 245. Victor whispered to Jack that he wanted to enter first. He wanted to know what had happened to his wife and what had made her run of like that. Jack did not have the courage to tell Victor that he already knew, and waited around the corner as Victor knocked on the door. He found himself hoping that there was some other reason Lissa had taken off and that Victor would be able to persuade her to come back home. Maybe she had simply left her husband. Jack had taken an instant dislike to him; not very unusual considering the fact Victor had shot him. He heard Victor knocking and calling to Lissa, asking to be let in. The door opened and Jack hoped for the best, but that hope all but disappeared completely when he heard a gunshot.

It didn’t take any concentration or effort for Jack to turn into the wolf and, growling, he ran towards the door to room 245 that was still open. He ran inside and there he saw a sight he had not expected. Victor was lying on the floor, his gun still in his hands and blood pouring from the chest wound by his heart. In a chair on the far side of the room, a man sat smiling at him, holding a glass of cognac. Although Jack had never met the man, Jack recognized him from engravings and drawings in books he studied in his own pursuit of mystical knowledge. He was none other than Cagliostro, the greatest magician in human history according to some, admired and feared the world over and, by all accounts a very, very dangerous man.

“Hello, Mr. Russell, so good to finally meet you,” Cagliostro said, sipping his cognac and not at all impressed by the 7-foot-tall hulking wolf man that stood before him.

“Where is Lissa?” Jack growled painfully abusing his vocal chords.

“Now, that is no way to speak!” Cagliostro said, and waved his hand at Jack as he spoke a few arcane syllables. On cue, Jack changed back once more to his human shape, much to his surprise.

“That’s better,” Cagliostro said smiling.

“Where is Lissa?” Jack asked once more, trying to hide how impressed he was by Cagliostro just changing him back to human.

“Lissa is well hidden and will remain so until we have had our little talk, Mr. Russell, and as for this gentleman…well, let me just say that it is never wise to shoot a man who has the power to reverse causality.”

“What do you want?” Jack asked, appalled at the callousness with which Cagliostro mentioned Victor’s murder.

“In this world of mystery and hidden creatures we inhabit, it seems that some of the greater mysteries have latched on to you, Mr. Russell. Now, I would like you to tell me exactly what happened to Xandu,” Cagliostro demanded, confidently stroking his beard as he spoke.

Jack didn’t know what to say. There were two questions racing through his mind. One was, “Who the f**k is Xandu?” and the other, more important one was, “What has Cagliostro done to Lissa?”

Not Here and Now

Lissa Russell woke up, immediately noticing that something was terribly wrong. The room she was in looked like her hotel room, but everything else was different. The furniture, the curtains, the television…everything was changed. Years spent on the road with her werewolf brother had given Lissa a keen sense of what was real and what wasn’t, and of the possibilities that existed if one knew that magic existed. She recalled going to sleep after getting a newspaper from the hop by the lobby and she hadn’t even taken of her jacket and shoes. Her room had been normal then, just an average room in a three-star hotel.

Now, the room had a distinct atmosphere to it, a smell and a taste that Lissa knew only too well. It was the static tension that arose whenever heavy magic was used, and Lissa had been around those enough times to recognize it. Some of her experience in dealing with the unknown returning to her, and the first thing Lissa checked were her possessions. She still had her purse with her, with her money and ID. She also still had her shoes and jacket on, as well as the key card to her room; that meant she could safely go outside. As she looked at the door to her room, she saw the key card would be useless as there was now an old fashioned lock on the door. Walking down the corridors, she noticed they had changed, too. Everything looked just a little more old-fashioned, including the people she saw. An idea was forming in Lissa’s mind, but she couldn’t make herself believe it just yet.

As Lissa stepped out of the hotel lobby, into the street, she noticed one thing right away: the World Trade Center, the Twin Towers. They still stood proudly over Manhattan like they had before that fateful day years ago. The thought Lissa already had started to solidify into an assumption and she knew what she had to do. Lissa went back inside the lobby of the hotel and went to pick up a newspaper. She didn’t even have to read it, as what she was looking for was printed on the front page: the date was 20 years before she had fallen asleep last night.

To Be Continued...