Fyre Lyght, Fyre Bryght

(Sorry for the delay.)

I arrived in the Chicago area farily early the next morning, careful not to speed, but also moving as quickly as I could. As instructed, I call Ms. Fyre when I crossed into Illinois, and followed the directions she provided to our meeting place, a brightly lit 24 hour restaurant just off the highway, outside of the southern suburbs of Chicago.

Entering the restaurant, it was easy to tell who she was, her Spirit was so bright within her body that she almost glowed with energy. It was amazing to see so much energy contained within a body so petite. I don’t know why it surprised me to see her in mundane clothing, but she was wearing jeans and a loose fitting sweatshirt, sneakers, and her long, auburn hair was pulled back into a very business like ponytail. Her intense green eyes locked onto me the moment I stepped into view, followed me as I walk up to her.

The restaurant was busy, so I was the subject of a number of stares, especially from the employees. A dumpy, fortyish looking man behind the cashiers counter seemed to rest his hand a little close to the telephone, while whispers and even a stifled gasp followed me as I moved to her table.

As I approached, Ms. Fyre stood, dropping a couple of bills on the table. She was even shorter than I expected, maybe 5’2”, but her aura made up for her physical lack in size.

“I see they’ve done a number on you Mr. Bones. I’ve had enough coffee, let’s go for a ride.”

“You’re the boss.”

With that, we left the restaurant. She led the way out the door and into the parking lot, then once we were out in the wind, she twirled around to face me, eyes flashing. “What have they done to you?!”

“Well, uh, how much has John told you about me?” The bitter winds that the Chicago area is so well known for we slashing at our words. The cold didn’t bother me, but I was concerned for her. “Do you want to get out of this cold?”

“I’m not going anywhere with you until I can figure out who and what you are. John told me that you were the subject of some really bad government experiments, and that some very bad people had messed with the natural order of things, but he didn’t have an opportunity to tell me much more before he disappeared.” She stuck her hands into the pockets of her heavy coat, but that was the only sign that she was at all uncomfortable in the cold. “The name and information you gave me relates to a police officer who was killed in action on October 31, 2003 in Michigan. I can tell by the photos you sent, and by looking at your face, that you are that officer.”

“I am. I was brought back...”

“From the dead, yes I can see that now. But how, and why did they do this to you?”

“Look, that’s a pretty long story, one that I’m sure will take more time than you will be comfortable hearing out here in this mess. I have a laptop in my car, I have been keeping a journal sorts for the last month and half online in the form of a weblog. If you want, I can take you to my car and load it up for you to read, or we can get it and go back inside the restaurant here. But I am really uncomfortable discussing this right here, right now in this parking lot.”

She looked thoughtful for a moment, before responding, “OK, I think you are probably right. We’ll each go to our own cars. I want you to follow me to a place where there are people I trust and where we can start the search to see what has happened to John.”

“I understand, where are we going?”

“It’s a co-op house near here where I sometimes teach and where you won’t be so out of place. They won’t judge you there the way that most people will. These are good people.”

“Let’s go then.”

We each went to our vehicles and I follwed behind her as she took a series of side streets away from the highway. This area had the feel of a college town, which was confirmed when we passed several fraternities and sorority houses to get an area where there were still large houses, but these were more run down in appearance. The driveway we pulled into led to another such large house that easily could have been a frat house itself, but was well past its prime. There were however symbols of pentagrams and other signs painted on the house and along the driveway that gave the house the unmistakable feel of a New Age co-op.

I grabbed my travel bag that contained my laptop and oither gear and follwed her through the budding morning sunlight to the front door. She opened it without knocking, I follwed her into the foyer and to the large common room/library that seemed to take up about a third of the first of the three main floors.

The common room was filled with a half dozen well worn couches and love seats of assorted varieties and styles. The walls of the room were lined with books and various odds and ends like elaborate candle holders, incense burners, and even a couple of crystal balls. There was a small of tables in the center of the room, each with a pair of chairs. The four people already in the room paid us little heed as two were engaged in some heated debate that involved a number of pagan god and goddess names, while a third person, a woman of indeterminate age, was studying from a pile of books at one of the tables, and the fourth, a guy, I think, was snoring on one of the couches.

Ms. Fyre approached on of the tables and motioned for me to get out my computer, which I did.

I turned it on, logged onto the web through my wireless connection, and loaded up the blog for her to read. As soon as I finished, she sat pushed me aside gently, and pointed back to the door, “Why don’t you go for a walk. I don’t want to be rushed. They have a nice place to meditate out back with a circle of stones. Maybe you can reach John now in the Spirit World. I’ll come find you when I am ready.”

So instructed, I left the lady in peace, marvelling at how well she seems to have adapted to the idea of me being brought back from the dead. Her focus, her energy, her sheer strength seemed like she could face anything. I left to go meditate, thinking I might have a decent ally in all of this mess I have found myself in.