Events had moved at an extraordinary pace. She reached for a weapon but realized that she hadn’t brought any. She didn’t think that she was still a target and now she was riding a taxi…back home? She recognized the French Quarter but soon realized that it was the nicer upper crust portion.  She sat next to the thoughtful Matt and wondered if he was angry about his windows but then he seemed to be taking it in stride as if it happened all the time. Maybe that was going to be her life now. The unusual no longer disturbing.<br/><br/>They steeped out in front of a gorgeous nineteenth century home that reeked of old money. She shook her head, her dark locks moving sensually along her bare shoulder. “Your friend is loaded. Are you sure he will help.”<br/><br/>“If I know, Sylvan, he’ll help.”<br/><br/>“Sylvan?” She questioned just as the door opened. She barely heard his greeting as it was the man who had come to her rescue not so long ago and here he lived down the street practically. As the two men shook hands and did the one handed man hug. When she got over the shock she flung herself into Sylvan’s arms and nearly cried, she was so happy to see him. He patted her back in the hug a bit embarrassed but just as glad to see her well.<br/><br/>He invited them inside and as they sat in a charmingly furnished parlor, Matt explained what happened, Morgayne jumping in when needed. When their tale was done, the expression of the men were serious.<br/><br/>“I think I have seen that woman before…I mean, I think she was there when Tiffany was killed. The place was trashed and there were thorny vines everywhere. I remember it smelling like roses. And…and,” she started, holding back a sob as she remembered the aftermath. “I think the coroner said her skin was flayed by a thorny whip or something. That’s what my buddy down at the morgue said. I made him tell me.”<br/><br/>They were all quiet for a moment when Sylvan suddenly stood up with a smile on his full lips. “I think we have a trip to the Nevernever to plan, eh, cher?”<br/><br/>During the hug, Sylvan had quietly thanked his grandmother for locating this young woman and sending him to aid her.  He'd discovered more than once in the last four years that there was nothing quite as fulfilling as being able to help a beautiful girl.<br/><br/>Sylvan placed a hand over the beautiful sienna skinned girl's and gave her a confident, encouraging smile.  He normaly focused on a person's nose where someone who wasn't a wizard would look them in the eyes.  IN this case, his eyes kept dropping to her lips.      “You've come to the right people,<em>ma petie.</em>The three of us together have got this covered.”<br/><br/>The house really was old school, from vintage—if well lived in—furniture to gas lights.  Sylvan pulled a magnet off of a 40 year old refrigerator and tossed it to Matt.  It gave the number of a local pizzeria.  “Order us three Meat Lover's and a supreme.  Tell Peter there's an extra 50 for him to get it here in 25 minutes.”<br/><br/>He turned back to Morgayne.  “Did you get anything from the murderer?  A piece of vine or thorn?  Splatter of blood, lock of hair?”<br/><br/>She pushed back her hair flustered and her fingers snagged on something. She gently pulled a twist of vine from her hair. She was't sure how it got there but then anything could have happened in the mash up at Matt's office. She handed it to Sylvan. "Will this do?"<br/><br/>“Oh, yes,” the young wizard replied with a grin.  “That's perfect.”<br/><br/>Over the next twenty minutes, Sylvan set up a variety of ritual tools.  He polished up a silver line in the doorway from his house proper to the solarium, and set up some incense burners.  In his workshop, he suspended a crystal pendant over a copper bowl.  In here he prepared a variety of herbs and powders, then left it.  When the pizza arrived he shared out the supreme, munching on a big slice as he threw some different incense a burner and lit the hawthorn coals.  “Fanchesca, Vim,” he chanted softly, then switched to greek and began a poetic chant that lasted a few minutes.<br/><br/>Then he left the incense burning and two boxes of pizza on the table with it.<br/><br/>He moved back to the copper bowl and cut the vine into three.  One piece he then tossed into the bowl.  He spent several minutes working with it, reciting Greek poetry and burning virgin candles.  The smoke drifted up to the pendant, infusing the clear quartz 'til it was smoky.<br/><br/>By the time he was done, two little fey—one looking suspiciously like Dobbie the House Elf with a better fashion sense, the other a foot tall, black skinned girl in a tiger mask.  “Thanks for coming.”<br/><br/>They exchanged brief pleasantries, clearly old friends, and Sylvan put down one of the vines.  “I'm thinking this is from Brielle?”<br/><br/>The black girl nodded solemnly while Vim winced, “Why can't you just call us over for healing kittens and stealing panties anymore, Sylvan?”<br/><br/>He sighed, “I'll try not to get you into trouble, Vim, but what's she up too.   The police are getting jumpy.  We're all going to be in a whole world of hurt if people from the Nevernever keep attacking mortals in broad daylight.”<br/><br/>They two looked around nervously, then Vim nodded.  The black girl gestured for Sylvan to bend down and then whispered something Sylvan would only relate to her after this was through, “It's said Brielle has a new lover—no one knows who—but she's been doing his dirty work for a while now.”<br/><br/>A few minutes later, Sylvan brought them each a steel blade—just a dagger tucked into his boot for himself, he preferred his blasting rod—and intoned a soft droning chant—this time it sounded more like Gaelic.<br/><br/>The threshold form the solarium to the house glimmered, then liquid silver flowed up and between.  With the last pizza in one hand and his wand in the other, Sylvan lead them through.<br/><br/>On the other side...<br/><br/>They followed Sylvan's pendent across the fantastic landscape.  A few slices of pizza bribed minor hobs and elves to stay out of their way.  Finally they reached a fairytale villa surrounded by an unbroken hedge of brambles.  Silvan intoned angry words in Greek and the hedge immediately in front of them shriveled away to dust, leaving a ball of water hovering in the air before him.  This he hurtled into the chest of a minor ogre in ivory mail, sending him flying.<br/><br/>With three more to get through to reach the house, the fight was on.  Bullets barked, arrows streaked, and lightning flew.  Silver blades swiped and slashed, but the ogres proved a minor threat compared to the full wrath of Brielle.  Rose brambles entangled them, thorns sprayed through the air.  For several minutes the furious fae held all three of them at a standstill.  Finally the three got a rhythm, though.  Sylvan struck bushes down with lighting to protect the others.  Morgaine wounded Brielle with arrows long enough for Matt to tackle her.  Though her own body sprouted thorns deep into his body, Matt managed to hold her long enough for Morgaine to drive an iron blade into her heart.<br/>