: Philomena Phistemopheles sits in the solarium of the DuPlessis mansion in Audubon Place, anticipating as many questions as she can.
"Aunt Phil?" Amanda asks. "Why exactly are we here? Shouldn't we be out looking for Hammar? We nearly lost him last time because we waited too long."
Phil replies patiently, "This isn't like last time, Amanda. Stavros and I knew instantly the moment it happened. Last time, my little man had to call me in Mykonos."
Bitsie puts down her cocktail glass and sneers, "I'll bite. What does that mean in the real world?"
"It means that Hammar has figured out how to use the orb, and is making a trip that will literally change the world around us. And soon." Phil takes a long sip of straight ourzo, and says, "Which is why I insisted we lay in supplies and take refuge here."
"Oh," Bitsie says, breezily. " And I thought it was just to torture me. I'm hurt."
Philomena smiles unnervingly before launching in.
“The DuPlessis mansion was built here, in this unusual way because it is a focus point. A place that naturally attracts energies. The first rays of the morning sun meet here. The seat of wealth in the City is met just outside these walls. From there, the seats of learning, the universities. Then commerce, transportation, communication. All centered around this point. Stavros, my darling.”
Stavros straightens automatically.
“You work with metals. What are all the railings, supports, this chair? What are they all made from?”
“Iron,” Stavros says, his usually sonorous baritone somehow strained. “Cast iron, mostly on the staircases, doors and windows. The furniture is wrought iron. So are the wall sconces.”
Philomena smiles at him. “And, the floors. So thick, and so purple in the light. Why is that?”
Stavros thinks a moment, then replies,
“Iron content. In the stones. Iron oxides at the surface cause the light to reflect the particles.”
“Very good, darling,” she replies, a flash of pride on her face. “And the glass in the doors, the windows, this very solarium. What kind of glass is it?”
“Lead glass.”
“Yes,” she replies, taking another drag from her cigar. “Iron and lead. Base metals. Notorious for either repelling or containing energy.” Philomena takes up her cocktail glass from Bitsie’s side and rises, slowly wandering in the direction of the dining room. “Bitsie, darling. You’d know this with your extensive antique history.”
“Watch it, Phil” she grumbles, waiting for the punchline.
“Come now," she grins. "I'm not that crass. I mean your literal antique expertise, not your most recent appraisal."
Bitsie begins to speak, then stops. "Good one", she says. Philomena contines.
"The wood paneling inside. Quite interesting. What kind of wood is it?”
Bitsie stands and turns to see where Philomena is looking. Peering at the walls, she takes a few steps towards the windows, then says,
“It’s guyican. But, not the kind you see today. That’s old forest guyican.” She turns to Stavros and Amanda on the settee. “You can tell. The grain is so compact, you can barely see it. That’s what gives the wood that rich orange-burnt umber color. Much like my late husband. Dense and unbelievably expensive.” She faces Philomena, who takes a long drag.
“So what? What does this house have to do with Stavros’ visions or the horrible homunculus Oskar Hammar?”
Philomena turns to her, all artifice gone from her face.
“If Hammar is going to go back again, he’s going to have a reason. This house, the DuPlessis mansion is built to focus and contain our present. This moment, this reality. Once Hammar goes back, the world around us is going to change. In here, and with what I’ve brought with me, we can keep this time alive”...This is My New Orleans.
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