Just Touched Down in London Town

[Maggie Wren]

Maggie staggered up the path to 29 Connaught Square (http://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/commons/5/5d/29ConnaughtSquareLondon.jpg). With all of her worldly belongings packed in the two trunks she had dragged behind her on what felt like the endless journey from the tube station, she sagged against the wall beside the front gateand looked ahead at her long-suffering travelling companion – with whom she had just endured three flight transfers and a total of seven hours delay, to finally arrive back in the rain-sodden streets of London.

“I don't think I'm gonna make it, 'chele. Go on without me!"

[Michele Hawkins]

England.

This is nuts cuz the last time I was here, I showed up through the Umbra on a horse with Fi to snuff out the Sabbat. Good times.

Oh and yeah. Hi. Been awhile since we last talked, course you were hating on me, and rightfully so. My life was twisted and dark, full of anger. Full of rage of loosing Fiona, and I got swept up in someone's game to really understand I was being played like a fool. Kassandra was no good for me. She was what I thought I needed at the time. Turns out, she was the cause of of everything. Nice huh? I was stupid and broke all contact with everyone. Nara. Brigid. They left town cuz of me and my short sighted trust I placed in a woman that wanted to groom me to be the next 'Fiona'. Or the Fiona she wanted. Dark, twisted, mangled into a person to kill the competition for her.

“I don't think I'm gonna make it, 'chele. Go on without me!"

Oh! That's Maggie. She's why you like me again. Why I like me again. We met on Northwestern's campus and I found myself a magey friend, who turned out to be my best friend. She helped me unravel the truth and with Nikki and Rod's assistance, I cut the cords from Mom. Unfortunately, Nikki wasn't able to defeat her ... stupid Immortal rules. Which I broke.

I couldn't let Nikki fight Kass by herself since I was the reason this crap went south, and oh man, was Nikki pissed off. She was a stickler for tradition and me being the perfect distraction, Kassandra slipped away. Oops ...

But anyway, that was a year ago. Story for another time. Drama queen needs me.

I shove my suitcase on top of the stairs and toss my two packs to follow, nothing was valuable ... I think, and hop down the stairs to save the damsel in distress.

I grab hold of a trunk and shake my head at Maggie. "Over dramatic much?

I stick my tongue out at her and heft one of the trunks the rest of the way. Gotta love being in shape and Immortal. Makes one way stronger then eating your Wheaties.

[Maggie Wren]

“This is why I keep you around, Hawkins. Someone's gotta be the brawn to my brains.”

With two hands on the suitcase handle, Maggie hauled it the rest of the way up – and it hit the floor with a dusty thud, whilst an oof! of breath escaped her lips. In front of them was a locked doorway. Michele let a rucksack slip from her shoulders and smirked as she held up a set of jingling keys. True to form, the Immortal had taken their travelling woes in her stride. It wasn't like she had to worry about wasting time, after all.

“Come on - let's just dump all this and hit the pub. We can unpack in the morning. Or whenever my body catches up to whatever time it is now.”

Michele opened the front door and tentatively flicked on the hallway light switch, revealing a welcome mat whose welcome was hidden beneath a mountain of junk mail and take-away fliers. Maggie shoved her travelling cases into the narrow hallway then stooped to pick up one of the fliers.

“Look - it's a sign!” She flashed the leaflet for Bad Moon Rising at Michele, seeing the bold ad for two-for-one drinks deals and pints for a pound, rather than the name of the bar itself. “Happy hour!”

[Michele Hawkins]

"Oh ha, ha."

She's gonna regret that later. At some point. When I figure out a good come back to Maggie's cleverness. Jet lag didn't hold back that quick firing tongue of her's for sure.

There was no finesse. The trunk, packs, and cases just got shoved in the doorway and that was when I realized just how tired I was. catching a few z's on and off at the airports while Maggie and switched off bag patrol was not a good way to get your beauty sleep.

But Mags was right. Work later. Drink now!

"I'm down with that. Where ya think we should go? This is your turf now, Mags."

I squinted at the leaflet and I couldn't hide my enthusiasm either. "Signs, portents and a pint? My kinda magick."

Yes that was lame, but it was a funny lame. I shoo Maggie outside and lock up and start to make my way quickly down the steps, leaving my friend way behind, "Least it's easier going down! Hurry up!"

[Maggie Wren]

On the main road to the apartment block, Maggie flagged down an impeccably timed black cab. She flopped into the back seat without a hint of decorum or grace and was greeted by a gold-capped grin from the driver. “Where to, ladies?”

Maggie's cheeks dimpled with a smile. His accent sounded like home. “Bad Moon Rising, please!”

[Michele Hawkins]

What the hell?

I eye the cab like a lost puppy in disbelief. No way in hell can you catch a cab that fast in Chicago. Either way, I pile in after Maggie and close the door. Then we were off.

Mags was settling back being home. I was basically getting used to this becoming home. I traveled a bit with Fi, but Chicago was my home since forever. Not being there was making me homesick but I just have to remember what's not waiting for me there. I need a new start and reintroduce myself to well, myself again. Why I eagerly agreed to come to London with Maggie.

So for the next ten minutes, I gotta good look at my new hood and my smile kept getting bigger with every street light passing.

"A'right ladies. Here we are."

I turn towards Maggie's window and wonder if we should have dressed up for this little outing. The place looked spectacular (http://www.alma-de-cuba.com/wp-content/gallery/photos-of-alma-de-cuba/alma_high_res_01-medium-medium.jpg). I look down at my black tank top, jeans and boots and sigh.

"Maybe this wasn't a good idea?" I sheepishly say over Maggie's shoulder.

[Rod Stafford]

From behind the bar, an ornate tumbler leapt high into the air, and spun, scattering flecks of golden light across the room. There was a generous cheer from the crowd, glad to be entertained as they waited for their drinks. And Rod was only too happy to oblige them. Liquor flowed freely from every angle; poured from great heights, spiralling from bottles tossed over the shoulder, behind the back, shook, twisted, and twirled. It was about as overblown a spectacle of cocktail preparation one could ever imagine - well, almost.

"Okay!" he declared, with a thunderous clap, "Who wants to see some magic?"

The regulars egged him on with applause and unruly drumming on the bar top. So he helped himself to a tiny shot glass, and poured into it a concotion of raspberry vodka, peach schnapps, and cranberry juice. It was held aloft for all to see, practically a thimbleful of liquid, and was presented to a young lady to sample. She nodded, looking satisfied, if a little confused.

"Rasberry Woo Woo for my lady?" he asked, and disappointed, continued, "Sadly, this is the last of the Raspberry Woo Woo in all the kingdom, so to help Miss... Miss Daisy here, I need you all to say the magic word for me. Do you know the magic word? No!? The magic word, my friends, is Woooh Wooooooh! Come on, after three: one... two... three!"

"Woooh Wooooooh!!" came the gloriously girly response.

The shot glass was upended over a tall frosted tumbler, which was in turn filled to the brim with a vibrant pink cocktail. The spectators gave a great cheer and Rod bowed. And before his congregation could depart, he casually threw a whole lime into the air, which upon its descent it fell apart into slices and landed neatly in each glass. Over the pleasant hum of dispersed conversation came the sound of Creedence Clearwater Revival (http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9hvA0wWTIv4).

"Oh, perfect timing!" he beamed, and indulged himself in a spot of moody air guitar. It was an odd sight, certainly, but for a man wearing a pair of cowboy boots and a flowery kerchief around his neck, not entirely unexpected. Then came the singing:

"I put a spell on youuu... because you're miiine..."

[Maggie Wren]

The cab sped away, leaving Maggie and Michele on the pavement outside of Bad Moon Rising. Rain drops sizzled against the lights adorning the club's ornate façade, which looked more ancient Rome than Camden town. “Wow,” summed the place up in a single word.

Doormen waved the pair into the warmth within and Maggie's face lit up with a grin as John Fogerty wailed I Put a Spell on You. “Guess they knew I was coming,” she said, nudging Michele in the side as they stepped up to the bar. She rummaged in her pocket for a five pound note then planted both hands on the bar, rising onto her tiptoes as she strained to get a look at the bartender who was drawing whoops and cheers.

[Michele Hawkins]

I stood there, speechless, merely nodding my head in 100% agreement. My mouth might have been opened too, but I was dragged inside by Maggie to really notice. I have a sinking suspicion it was open though cuz my smile came way too easily at Mags' comment.

"Yes. It's obvious. The universe knew you were coming here and said, play Fogerty," I reply back grinning stupidly in retort, rubbing my side from the prodding elbow.

We make it to the bar and she's got money in hand for drinks, but the bartender is occupied. Sounds like a bad rendition of Coyote Ugly at the counter if you ask me. Hooting and hollering, and I swear upon my mother's grave, I saw some paper bills being thrown over cheering heads.

"OK, this is annoying." I get on my tiptoes and see a bobbing cowboy hat and I feel my eyebrow raise. "Um, Mags."

I get back down and look at my friend. "Did you take me to a kinda strip club without knowing?"

I mean. OK the music's totally wrong but can ya blame me for what I'm thinking?

[Rod Stafford]

"Yeeeaaaaah! I ain't gonna take none of your... foolin' arooouund!"

The singing was nothing if not enthusiastic. Rod navigated the length of the bar with a vaguely-rythmic strut, his head bobbing in time with the music,in search of new new customers to entertain. A trio of bartenders, dressed in smart black shirts with open collars, buzzed hither and yon to accomodate the growing happy hour crowd. On the floor above, the last of the diners were finishing their meals; there was something awfully pleasant about the clinking of cutlery, the ping of the wine glass, and the smell of good food, lending the Bad Moon a cozy ambience. It was as he racked a fresh bottle of raspberry vodka, Rod noticed a couple of new arrivals in the mirrored wall. He grinned and snatched a couple of glasses.

"Welcome, my good womenfolk," he sung, and wheeled around with a look full of promise, "Tell me then, what will be your pois...on..."

First, his face dropped, frozen, his mouth agape at the woman stood before him. And then he beamed. A quick glance to the left and right: too far, he concluded. In a mad scramble, he mounted the bar, and jumped down on the other side. Heads turned in time to see him attack his good friend, Michele Hawkins, in a bear hug and lift her into the air.

"Michele! Michele! It's Michele! Oh, my moons! Ha haaa!" he cheered, and relinquished his hold at last to find her face, his face alight with childish glee.

"Michele!"

[Maggie Wren]

“A kinda strip club? I don't think you can half-arse a strip club, Chele. It's one of those all or nothing things. Literally.”

It was about that moment, as Maggie was turning to fix Michele with a smirk, that someone sprang over the bar and practically hurled themselves into Michele. Maggie scooted two steps away, putting herself just out of reach of the bartenders wide, wild gestures.