Chapter 22: In the Groove

Neal's loft. July 26, 2005. Tuesday morning.

Neal reluctantly thrust aside excited speculation over the identity of the woman in the photo with Klaus. It was time to return to the world of the known. Mozzie was eager to brew a batch of authentic invisible ink. Henry needed to go to his office, and after a quick change into a suit, Neal was ready to report for work as well.

During the drive downtown, Peter filled him in on his new assignment. "You'll assist Jones with the Twillingford mortgage fraud investigation. Over thirty properties were targeted by industry insiders."

As Peter droned on about the intricacies of the case, Neal wasn't about to give him any flak. Mortgage fraud was not high on his list of plum assignments. Plum . . . he'd have to remember to mention that one to Sara. He hadn't decided whether to proceed on the dating aspect to their relationship, but as for Professor Plum and Miss Scarlet, their pieces were already in play on the game board.

Peter chuckled. "You're smiling at mortgage fraud?"

"I hope you don't think I'm that clueless. I realize I can't hog all the plum cases." Two more innuendos. Should he and Sara keep score? The one who got the most in any one given—

"That's the attitude I like to see. Team work, right?"

"It's the only way, and I mean it."

"Good. You'll need to adjust to Hughes's new role. He's signed off on playing the heavy since I'm being Mr. Soft Touch. He'll make it known that he's reviewing your work assignments. Apparently, he's received complaints from team members that I've been exhibiting favoritism. Hughes stressed the importance of warning you that he intends to play his role to the hilt."

"He's well cast. I'm just glad this time it's a sham." Last summer Hughes had warned Neal against taking advantage of the closeness of his friendship with Peter and El. Now Neal was supposed to do exactly that.

"I'm aware of the irony, too," Peter said. "Embrace your slacker status. We're waltzing in at a late hour today. You should continue to do so the rest of the week. You didn't make up for your sleep deficit last night. I fully expect you to do so this week. Besides, you'll need the extra time at home."

Neal turned to face him. "Does that mean what I think it does?"

Peter smiled. "Checking to see if we're on the same wavelength? I think you'll be pleased with the results. You're cleared to begin work on the Braque." His expression turned serious. "I used to stew about the Vermeer being put into play sooner than we were ready. Now we have two paintings that can be used against you. If the Mansfelds relay incriminating evidence about the Braque before we've initiated the sale of the forgery, it will make the sting significantly more difficult. My hope is that they'll target the Vermeer first, but we can't rely on it."

Two art forgeries in two weeks? Two plum assignments back to back? Neal had hesitated to broach the subject after Peter had been so dead set against him starting another forgery.

He relaxed into the cushions of the Taurus, not bothering to tease Peter about his driving. The long nightmare was over. Peter knew about the Braque. They had confirmation Klaus was alive, plus a lead on another Ydrus operative. Although Peter hadn't officially declared the con to have started, as a practical matter it had begun with the discovery of Ruiz being the informant. Diana had met with the agent last week and was having lunch with him today. Neal wished he could be a fly on the wall for that conversation.

WCWCWCWCWCWCWC

Diana added a hint of flirtation to her smile as she gazed across the table at her mark. She'd wanted to go to this restaurant since it opened. And that is was being paid for by the scumbag Ruiz was sweetness personified.

The con was a no-brainer to execute. At Quantico Diana had specialized in crime syndicates, primarily the mafia and the yakuza. When she was transferred to White Collar she became the go-to person for information about them. Those crimes were the bailiwick of Organized Crime for which Joseph Ruiz just happened to be the acting Special Agent in Charge. She sought him out last week to follow up on the Samurai bond case where Neal and Ruiz had originally clashed. A restaurant with ties to the yakuza had been discovered during the case. It was only natural that she'd want to know the results of the investigation.

The meeting had gone well. She'd dished out the compliments with an oversized soup ladle, gushing about how much she'd enjoyed working on the case with Ruiz. And in many respects she could be honest. Taking on gangs was far more appealing than mortgage fraud cases. She even managed to slip into the conversation that they gave her a high like playing Grand Theft Auto.

When Ruiz invited her to lunch, she'd suggested the Lure Fishbar. The SoHo restaurant was designed to look like the interior of a luxury yacht. It fit her persona as a woman with drive and ambition. If Ruiz wanted to take her to power lunches, she was more than willing to supply the venues.

So far Ruiz was restraining his flirtation to a minimum, but she'd already spotted signs that he was testing the waters. For her part, she responded in kind, adding just enough coyness to give him hope.

Over martinis and lobster rolls, Ruiz was upfront at expressing the reason for the lunch. He wanted to recruit her for Organized Crime, and that gave her the opening she needed.

The natural follow-up was for her to voice her dissatisfaction with White Collar. The lack of advancement opportunities. The favoritism. Her boss was in danger of becoming a stooge of a criminal. Caffrey had used his con artist ability, which everyone agreed was unsurpassed, not to take down criminals but to hoodwink those gullible enough to fall under his spell. Diana had so many examples to reference, she had to be careful not to overplay her hand.

She chose a couple of her favorites, starting with her outrage over Caffrey persuading Peter to look the other way when he conducted illegal searches. She gave Ruiz specifics of the incident at Scima Workshop in London to prove her point. Their resident conman was so slick, he'd even gotten their contact at Interpol, John Hobhouse, to lick his boots.

She could have gone on for hours but restricted herself to lamenting about Neal finagling a week of sick leave when he wasn't really sick. With that, she considered she'd primed the pump adequately for one session.

Once Diana returned to the office, she rewarded herself by taking a break. Collecting her laptop from her desk, she filled her coffee mug and headed for a small interrogation room which she'd appropriated for her writer's cave.

When Diana began writing stories, she'd sacrificed her free time in the evening. That quickly became an exercise in frustration. To her chagrin, all her best ideas were coming at work. How could she not take time out to write when her characters were standing right in front of her? Most authors heard voices inside their heads. Hers were speaking to her openly, chatting in the breakroom, standing by the elevators, taking part in meetings.

Diana found herself constantly jotting down notes for the evening writing session. But when she attempted to decipher them, they were worse than the unknown languages she'd plagued Arkham Neal with. If he only knew. Those arcane starfish script symbols were based on her own illegible scrawl.

Peter found her sitting at her desk one morning, viciously poking holes with a pencil into yet another sheet of indecipherable notes. Most men fled when she vented, but Peter stood his ground. Not only that, he offered her a solution. From then on, as long as no meeting was scheduled, she could take writing breaks whenever inspiration struck.

She suspected it was as much for the sanity of her co-workers in the bullpen as herself, but whatever. Peter earned the Boss of the Year award that day.

With a sigh of satisfaction, Diana closed the door of the interrogation room and laid out her supplies. Over the past year, she'd developed a ritual. She couldn't begin writing without a full mug of java in the octopus mug Christie had given her. Next to her laptop on the left-hand side resided a starfish plush toy that she could talk to or throw against the wall as the occasion required. Jones's nephew Ethan had taken a liking to it and called it Peachy after a character in Finding Nemo. He didn't seem to think it relevant that her starfish had leopard spots and blue eyes.

Christie said Peachy freaked her out. She claimed the starfish represented Azathoth with the leopard fabric a clear reference to the art thief. The starfish's big blue eyes reminded Christie of Neal being held a prisoner. After that Diana didn't toss Peachy around quite as forcefully.

Taking a deep breath—focus was critical for writing—she placed her laptop, mug, and Peachy in the correct alignment.

The first challenge was to sort through the Arkham Round Table emails and notes. How on earth did June expect her to work the Beatles' song "Blackbird" into the storyline? Wasn't it bad enough that she had to incorporate Henry's latest suggestions?

Because she knew.

Even though El said they were her ideas, they had Henry's fingerprints all over them. Diana had a responsibility to Arkham Neal. Would she let him be manipulated by Henry's notions about romance? Shouldn't Henry spend more time on his own love life, not Neal's?

It wasn't that she didn't like Sara. Quite the contrary. But Sara wasn't interested in Neal in this life. Why should she be in the stories? Would she hit the roof if Diana acted on El and Henry's ideas? And what would Caffrey say? That, of course, was of secondary importance. The main question was would Arkham Neal be so annoyed he'd never speak to her again?

A knock on the door interrupted her musings. Diana grumped. Couldn't they read her Do Not Disturb sign? She was just getting into Neal's POV. Now she'd have to yank herself away. "Come in!" she yelled.

Tricia stuck her head in cautiously. "Bad time?"

Diana forced a smile. "Of course not."

"Great because we need to discuss the upcoming story." She took a seat opposite Diana and placed a canvas tote on the chair next to her. Were those additional suggestions? Diana's stomach began to clench. "Have you thought of a title for it?"

"Cinereous Skies."

Tricia blinked and was quiet for a moment. "That's rather an odd name," she ventured at last, breaking the silence. "Will readers know what cinereous means?"

"That's the point," Diana said, suppressing a huff. "I'm supposed to make Azathoth curious, aren't I?"

Tricia knitted her brows together. "I did catch you at a bad time. I'll come back."

"No, it's okay." Diana took a long glug of her octopus coffee and wrote herself a reminder of the witty line she was about to have Neal utter. "I know Peter's eager to have this posted as quickly as possible."

Tricia nodded. "You'd asked me for help with the birds, and I've gotten a few ideas."

As Tricia pulled out several field guides from her tote, Diana tried not to reveal her dismay. Mozzie had already sent her a long list of options. Clearly he hadn't consulted with Tricia. Now Diana would have to sort out the dictates of two birders from opposite ends of the spectrum.

While Tricia lectured her about the birds of Australasia, another knock was heard. Had she unconsciously sent out party invitations to her writer's cave? It was with truly astonishing good grace that she welcomed the next intruder. Since it was the boss, she was glad she had.

"I see you're working on your story," Peter said. "That's just what I wanted to talk about. I've come up with some suggestions that I'd rather discuss without Neal being present."

"I felt the same way," Tricia said. "On the subway to work this morning, I reviewed the story outline. Have we gone too dark with the plot?"

Diana forced herself not to shudder as she heard them debate a complete revision. At least they weren't changing the rainforest . . . much. Calm, be calm. She shot a glance at Peachy who was pleading mutely not to be hurled at the wall.

"Peter, your suggestion for the leopard was brilliant," Tricia said.

Don't encourage him! Peter was beaming at the praise while Diana started a new sheet of notes.

Peter picked up Peachy. "Is that why your starfish has leopard spots?"

"The symbolism seemed appropriate."

Tricia raised a brow. "And the blue eyes?"

Diana shrugged. "Klaus has blue eyes as well as Neal. You can read into it what you will."

The boss could care less about blue eyes. He was impatient to discuss his own brainstorm. "An idea occurred to me while watching The Prisoner of Azkaban with Neal and El in L.A. It's about Lavinia and Phineas."

Tricia was ecstatic over the suggestion and Diana had to admit it was pretty cool, too. Worth a rewrite. Luckily they decided the level of violence was acceptable in view of the circumstances, or Diana would have been sunk.

"We want to make Azathoth wonder just how much Neal remembers from his virtual experiences," Tricia said. "We'll plant images which can be interpreted in multiple ways, just like we have been with the hints about Peter."

He nodded. "Rolf must have questioned if I were trying to send him secret messages in The Crypt. We assume he realizes Diana's getting suggestions from the team. If I was trying to send him a coded communication, this is exactly how I'd handle it. That armillary sphere in the stories resembles the globe in the Vermeer painting."

Diana began to get excited despite her initial misgivings. "And I can work with the astrolabe as well. In the painting, a cryptic chart is hanging on the wall. That could reference the script on the armillary sphere."

"Exactly," Peter confirmed. "Do we know about the Vermeer? What steps have we taken? If we keep Rolf and Klaus guessing about how much we know, their mistakes will pile up. They already overplayed their hand in L.A. We want to prod them still further."

"Diana's already incorporated our recommendation about psychological manipulation," Tricia noted. "My concern is how our Neal will handle it when he reads the story. Peter, did you talk with him about it?"

"We covered it over lunch," Peter said. "He was a little uneasy at first, but after I outlined the reasoning, he agreed it was the correct approach."

Diana eyed Peter warily as he reached into his suit jacket. She knew what was coming. How many rewrites would this cause?

"This is for the scene on the river," he said. "I got the idea while walking with Neal along the Hudson. This is not so much for Azathoth but for our Neal." He explained his concept, and yeah, it was worth revising the scene. Tricia also loved it. Peter was really being quite sweet. He even offered to cut back on her other assignments. They'd targeted posting to begin in two weeks. She'd need all the help she could get.

Diana walked with them back to the bullpen in a subtle gesture to let her resume writing. After she refilled her coffee mug, she retreated into the cave, first making sure the Do Not Disturb sign was plainly visible.

But getting back in the groove wasn't easy. Diana pulled up her Cinereous Skies playlist and put her current favorite on an endless loop. As the pulsating beat propelled her forward, words finally began to flow.

She'd just gotten to Peter's river scene, when someone knocked on the door. She ignored it. Then she heard a tap on the glass window in the door and looked up to see Neal's pleading face. Heaving a heavy sigh, she beckoned him in as she scribbled another note to herself.

"Lay it on me, Caffrey, but I'm warning you upfront, you're not getting the ability to fly."

"I figured as much," he said, taking a seat opposite her, "but there might be something else you could do. Peter filled me in on what happens."

She eyed him sympathetically. "Pretty grim, huh?"

"Yeah, Arkham Neal won't have an easy time of it." He nodded to her laptop. "Your music's appropriate, but shouldn't they be singing about running through the rainforest instead of the jungle?"

She snorted. "You're catching on, finally. I'll give Creedence Clearwater Revival a pass. Back then the term rainforest wasn't used as much. As I recall, only a few weeks ago you were envious of Henry running through the jungle."

He made a face. "You would remember that. What you have planned isn't exactly what I had in mind." He put his elbows on the table and leaned forward, his eyes intent upon her. "Let's face it, the kid could use a little boost."

No point in a prolonged debate. Diana knew she might as well cut to the chase and give in now. Neal was a master at knowing exactly which stops to pull. His face had assumed the expression of that younger Neal—an innocent in a world filled with enemies. And was that so different from his own situation? For all his polished veneer, Arkham Neal and New York Neal were very much alike. Or was she falling into the trap of becoming too involved with her characters? Diana vowed to take out her frustrations on the firing range as soon as she got the story revised . . . if she ever got it revised. "What's your idea?"

"Something to raise his spirits." He grinned sneakily. "Sara muddles music. It seems only fair."

Diana snorted out loud when she heard what he wanted. "If I do this, it has to pass muster with Tricia. You realize I'm telling her whose idea it was?"

"Naturally. Just doing my part to give Arkham Neal a pick-me-up."

Federal Building. A day later.

"Why are we returning to the roof, Neal?" Peter eyed him suspiciously. When Neal dropped by his office midafternoon to suggest the break, Peter wasn't so dense as to not appreciate he had an ulterior motive. Was Neal making the request as his consultant or as a member of his crew?

"This fits into my new image of being a constant disrupting influence on your schedule," he said with a hint of devilry in his smile.

Peter sighed to himself. He was beginning to appreciate the major flaw in their op. Once they brought down Adler and Azathoth, would Neal ever be able to regain the attitude of a normal employee? Then again, did he ever really have it in the first place? Peter's next meeting wasn't for an hour. In his new role as an overly tolerant pushover of a boss, it was time to get into the groove.

Neal picked up his fedora from the bust of Socrates on his desk as they headed for the elevator.

"Aren't you afraid a wind gust will carry it off?" Peter asked.

He shrugged. "A risk I'll have to take. It's a glorious day. Let's take in the view. The others can think we're planning our new crime empire." He reached inside the keyhole of his desk to retrieve a nylon bag.

"What's in the bag?"

"A few tools of the trade," Neal said cryptically.

"That's why we're going to the roof? So you can teach me advanced pickpocketing techniques? We could do that in my office."

"Someone might spot us."

"We could use Storeroom 51," Peter suggested. The windowless space had been appropriated as a go-to spot for exhausted agents requiring down time.

Neal pushed the elevator button. "Not the right ambiance."

"Since when is the correct environment required?" Peter grabbed his arm. "That better not be a boombox inside."

Neal shook off his arm. "You'll find out soon enough."

By the time the elevator dinged its arrival Neal had yet to reveal his scheme. Understandable. There were others around. But since they were the only ones in the elevator car, Peter could continue his interrogation unimpeded. "You got me a set of lock picks and have decided to make an initiation ceremony out of it. Will you reveal the thief's secret handshake at the same time?"

"Excellent suggestion but wrong. Still I give you points for your desire to learn. We should start lessons immediately. Perhaps another boot camp, just for you." Neal grinned. "Costumes will be mandatory."

Peter continued to hit Neal with off-the-wall ideas all the way to the roof, carefully avoiding what he suspected the true reason was. Last week it had rankled Neal deeply to discover his acrophobia had returned. Peter was surprised he wanted to test it again so soon but was willing to do his part to keep Neal relaxed.

When they got on the roof, Neal opened the bag and pulled out a collapsible field stool.

"Only one?" Peter joked. "Where's mine?"

"This isn't for sitting," he said and unfolded it next to the edge of the roof.

Peter's stomach plummeted at the implication. There was a security wall around the perimeter of the roof, but it wasn't wide enough to stand on. "No demonstration is necessary," he said firmly, striding forward to grab the stool.

Neal stopped him with a warning hand. "You challenged me last week, and I failed."

"It wasn't a question of failing. I simply pointed out an area of concern."

"Not to me," Neal said, quietly serious. "This demonstration is to regain my identity. I'm not afraid of heights, and Azathoth has no control over what I feel or who I am."

"I understand, but surely there's a more sane way—"

"Than what? Doing my hat trick? That would be crazy . . . if I weren't myself." Before Peter could stop him, Neal tossed his hat high in the air then leaped onto the stool to catch it before it sailed off the roof.

His heart performing its own somersault, Peter braced himself to hold onto Neal's legs, but he didn't need to. "Don't you ever pull a stunt like that again!" he growled as Neal grinned down at him from his perch.

Ignoring him, Neal tossed his hat on the ground. Holding his arms straight out in front of him, he locked them in place. Not a tremble, not a twitch. He slowly brought his outstretched arms to the T-position, appearing ready to do a high dive, then jumped off, pirouetting in the air to stand facing Peter. Giving a low bow, he had the cheek to add, "Let the con begin."

Peter gave an especially loud and satisfying snort. "Okay, hotshot, you've proved your point, and yes, I'm happy that you're free of Azathoth's clutches. But no more daredevil antics. Not if you want to participate in this con. Speaking as the leader of this crew, I should ground you for performing this maneuver." He stood and glared at Neal for a full minute, trying to keep his lips from twitching.

Neal was giving his best imitation of Satchmo who'd just retrieved a newspaper, mangled it till it was a soggy mess, and now expected to be praised for it.

"Just this once, and I repeat, for one time only, I'll give you a pass."

"Many would argue that the stunt you pulled at the Monday morning briefing was more reckless than what I just did."

"Not the way I see it. And there will be no competition of foolhardy behavior on my watch."

Neal smiled and turned to admire the panorama, resting his elbows on the barrier. "I plan to come here more, but I'll try to restrain myself. I'd like to sketch the idea you gave me to paint the merger of the Hudson and East Rivers."

Peter walked over to stand beside him. "Be sure to include the Brooklyn Bridge. I don't want you to forget it's there."

"I won't," he promised. He fell silent for a moment, his eyes scanning the view. "Earlier I'd planned to make all the paintings night scenes, but you inspired me to see them in a different light. Now the first one in the series will be sunset over the Hudson River. The night scenes will follow. The last piece will be sunrise rising above the Brooklyn Bridge on the East River. When the van crashed into the Hudson, you rescued me." He paused for a moment. "Now I feel you've done it again."

"You saved yourself both times." Peter pointed out, feeling a warmth that the afternoon sun wasn't providing. "I simply gave an assist, but I like the progression of paintings you have in mind. We've both experienced some sunsets and dark moments. Let's call this the dawn of a new partnership. Will you make an origami for your milestones box?"

He nodded. "I already know what it will be. A silver puzzle box."

"Representing the puzzle you worked on with Jacob?"

"That's one interpretation. Saturday morning I asked Jacob if it were possible to have two triggers." He glanced at Peter. "I couldn't understand why the acrophobia had come back. I thought perhaps it was something else Azathoth had planted which was causing it. I'd hidden my knowledge about the Braque from Jacob as well. He knew I was holding something back." He paused and chuckled. "Jacob called guilt a trickster. He's not so bad himself. He conned me into doing a magic trick with one of the pieces. After I made it disappear, he told me to keep it till I'd defused the trigger."

"So the puzzle was no longer complete."

Neal nodded. "He knew that would be an itch just like that item hiding behind the gargoyle."

Peter had wondered why Neal wasn't happier about solving the puzzle. He was glad Neal admitted the truth. One more secret unmasked. "Now you can claim full puzzle-master bragging rights."

Neal grinned. "Coming from you, that's high praise. I'll deliver that puzzle piece back to Jacob this evening. The origami puzzle box is to remind myself that uncovering secrets is much more rewarding than keeping them."

"For that, I just might let you toss your hat in the air again . . . as long as you're not standing at the edge of the roof." He glanced at his watch. "I'm sorry but I have a meeting to go to. Do you want to stay up here?"

"No, I've probably indulged in being a slacker long enough."

As they waited for the elevator, Neal asked, "Regarding that promise to not keep secrets . . ."

"Yeah?" Peter braced himself. What next? A stolen Rembrandt? How would he handle something like that?

"Does the promise extend to all areas? Even non-work ones? You see, there's someone I'm thinking of asking out and—"

"Stop right there," Peter ordered, exhaling in relief. "Every man's entitled to a few secrets. I'm giving you immunity on your love life. You know what's work-related and what's not."

Neal broke into a relieved smile. "Thanks, man. I'd appreciate it if you'd keep it under your hat."

"Trying to fly under the radar and avoid the matchmakers?"

He nodded. "With all the Arkham Files scheming going on, my life sometimes feels like a goldfish bowl."

"You deserve some privacy in your personal life. We'll discuss it no more, unless you want to, and . . . good luck. I hope it works out this time."

"Thanks. Me too."

"If you need it, I could be persuaded to run a little interference." More than likely, Bianka was the woman Neal was talking about. It wasn't so long ago that he'd been reticent to reveal his feelings about Fiona. Hopefully Bianka would prove more suitable. That Neal was interested in dating again was a welcome return to normalcy. Kate, Fiona, now Bianka . . . Third time's a charm? "How's that itch to climb the Riverside church tower?"

"It's still there. Going to the roof helps."

"I'll speak with security so you don't have to pull any fast ones to get up here."

"You don't have to," Neal said, waving off the suggestion. "I have my reputation to maintain, remember."

"You have to promise no more acrobatic stunts," Peter warned sternly. "As your boss, may I recommend something a little less extreme? Like, for instance, going on a date?"

Neal grinned. "Good advice. I'll keep it in mind."

Notes: Thanks for reading! I hope you enjoyed the story. A grateful shout-out to Penna Nomen for beta wisdom and cheerleader support throughout the 130,000-plus pages. She managed to find time for me with nary a whimper while working on her novel, not to mention her full-time job. Thank you, Penna!

I'm going to take a short break and leave the stage for Penna who has written a new vignette. This one is a trip back in time to the weekend when Neal helped Peter celebrate his birthday in 2004. In our AU, Peter's birthday is January 11. The action takes place shortly after her story By the Book. Neal has only been working at the FBI for about a month. There are guest appearances by many beloved characters, including June, Byron, and Henry. The vignette is called "Treasure Hunt." She's targeted the second weekend in December to post it.

Penna has also added another post to our blog about her Coursera creative writing course. The assignment was to write a scene where a character is obsessed with an object so much that, given the choice of living without the object or keeping it and dying within 24 hours, the character would be torn over the decision. The title of her post is "Novel Progress: a character's obsession."

As for my upcoming lineup, Diana promised Peter she'd have her story ready in a couple of weeks. I'll post the first chapter of Cinereous Skies on December 13. In this story Neal and Peter's abduction to a distant planet leads to the unmasking of a secret conspiracy, and Neal learns the truth about who he is. If you're curious about the suggestions Peter, Tricia, and Neal made for the story in this chapter, I've written a blog post about them called "Team Suggestions for Cinereous Skies." Caution for minor spoilers!

Back in this world, Neal's been given clearance to start on the Braque, but Peter's keeping a careful eye on him. This is his first week back at work. He hasn't done any field work since California. Is he ready to tackle the U-boat con? That's a big question mark. Peter will have the chance to test Neal's readiness when unexpected news arrives from his cousin Angela in my upcoming story, Dark Rabbit. To solve this Crossed Lines case, Dean and Sam Winchester will be needed. I plan to post Dark Rabbit at the conclusion of Cinereous Skies. The U-boat con is the subject of the following story, Harlequin's Shadow. You can keep track of all our upcoming stories on the story summaries page of our blog.

Many thanks to all of you who took the time to leave feedback. You made posting days that much more special. Till next time!

Blog: Penna Nomen & Silbrith Conversation
Chapter Visuals and Music: The Nocturne in Black and Gold board on the Caffrey Conversation Pinterest website