Chapter Two
When Vanessa had gone, Donovan reset his wards and walked to his desk. He took his wine glass with him, and the bottle. It was looking like a long night's research lay ahead of him, and he was going to have to get some help. It had been a long time since he'd visited the Carolinas, and he never went on a mission cold. It was an old place, and very powerful, and it was one of the earliest settled areas in the United States.
Donovan knew that the land he'd walked for so long held powers and secrets that predated the concerns of modern men. Even the oldest of the dark underworld of San Valencez were young compared to some of the men, women, and creatures who walked the Earth, and if you intended to walk into the den of such a being, you needed to have your facts in order.
The mention of The Great Dismal Swamp had piqued his interest. He'd heard some interesting tales coming out of that area recently. He'd heard rumors of meddling with ancient Gods, and fertility rites. There were other tales, darker ones, of creatures deep in the swamp, still hidden from civilization and light, drawing in on themselves and angry with the invasion of the daylight world.
He had his own memories of the area, but they were old, and he hadn't visited in generations. Most of the places he'd frequented in those times no longer existed and most of the people he'd known were long gone.
Donovan had books that detailed powers and mages. He could trace most of their journeys through early America, chronicle their accomplishments and adventures, and most importantly insure that others learned from their mistakes. The problem with such a huge repository of information was in knowing how to use it. The computers helped. He had scanned, indexed, backed up and saved more occult data than, as a young man, he could have conceived to exist. He'd perused most of it, studied much of it, and cataloged all that he'd encountered, but it was still like looking for the proverbial needle in a haystack to extract specific data when it was needed – albeit a very familiar haystack. In times like this, he preferred to consult subject matter experts. He'd earned favors from a lot of people over the years, and he thought it was time to call one of them in.
He sat at his desk and picked up the phone. He didn't need to look up the number, or any number. He smiled. As Amethyst liked to joke, he could take an old rotary dial phone and one-up the cell phones that have an "app" for that every time. He had a charm for it. He pressed the buttons on the old phone in an intricate pattern and whispered a name.
"Bullfinch."
A moment later, the phone began to ring, and Donovan sat back, thinking about his old friend, and wondering where the call would find him.
"Bullfinch." The bright, cheerful voice widened Donovan's smile.
"It's Donovan, Geoffrey," he said. "It's been too long."
"That it has," Bullfinch replied. "I must say, you are the last person I'd expected to hear from just now. There are big changes afoot. We must talk about them, and soon."
"I've heard rumors," Donovan said. "It's interesting. This organization of yours has promise. As long as they respect the balance."
"That is the hope," Bullfinch chuckled. "That has always been the hope. What can I do for you, Donovan? I'm guessing you didn't call just to chat, as much as I'd enjoy that."
"I'm researching a little vacation," Donovan said. "A working vacation. I'm familiar with the general area, The Great Dismal Swamp. What's bothering me is the particular location. It's a town called Old Mill, and if my calculations are correct, it's an intersection of a greater ley line with a sort of gridline of lesser conduits. Also, I've heard or read something about the area. Since it's close to your recent home ground, and swamp magic falls more in your bailiwick than my own, I thought of you. I'm sure I have the information I need here somewhere, but where to look?"
