"Oh." Well that answered Jason's unspoken comment/question. "So something very cherished by a mortal..."

"Great," Puck muttered. "I suppose theyre not just lying around for the taking, huh? Any ideas?"

Jason didn't know a lot of humans closely but he wondered..."I had a foster home not to far from here one time,a good while back. They had a kid about my age then,a permanent kid,and this kid really was clingy to this woven bracelet that was his fathers.His father passed away and so he held the bracelet really dear.He always had it on,and most likely,knowing him,still has it.But~ then again that's just a suggestion.Or there's Trisha,clingy like heck to her dagger and likes to roam around this area,often close by here though at that place called 'Fighters Flight',again something from a dead father. She was a foster sister of mine once."

"I also might know where we can find one," Ash mused, suddenly solemn again. "But its not a place humans like to visit, especially at night."

Jason looked to him,curious but worried as to where this was because Ash had said it wasn't somewhere humans liked to go,especially at night...and Jason was half human.And still to some points...had human fears.

True, but Jason has been through Arcadia, Tir Na Nog, the Briars, the Between, the Iron Realm, Machinas tower, and the killing fields of the Nevernever.

And that probably was worse than what most humans feared so maybe he wouldn't scream for all heck to hear.Maybe.

When there were no objections, a trace of humor touched Ash's eyes, a silent challenge. "All right, then," he said, leading the way out. "Follow me."

Jason gently took Puck's hand again and followed.

The city of the dead stretched away before them, stark and black under the swollen yellow moon, steaming in the humid air. Rows upon rows of crypts, tombs, and mausoleums lined the narrow streets, some lovingly decorated with flowers, candles, and plaques, others crumbling with age and neglect. Some of them looked like miniature houses, or even tiny cathedrals, spires and stone crosses raking the sky. Statues of angels and weeping women peered down from rooftops, looking stern or in the throes of grief. Their hollow eyes seemed to follow them down the tomb-lined alleyways. Puck pressed closer to Jason