Midnight Eclipse: Book 1# [EE] [Heaven's Curse]

Chapter 4

Numitora Faustus-Ignatius regarded the women surrounding her table, with an heir of intrigue and comprehension, "There's one here." she said. Her eyes on the dark haired woman. The other women followed her gaze before her pale hand drifted to the shoulder of a man behind her. Catching his attention, he leaned closer to her and she whispered. "That woman is an Excelian. Inform everyone." He nodded then disappeared, his dark gaze never left the bronze skinned woman.

A woman in blue dress regarded the stranger. "And she's a Deamone. Interesting. A Deamone of the Fire Reserve perhaps?" The woman glanced at Numitora uncertain.

"She's of the Fire Reserve. No doubt about it." Numitora confirmed, casting her gaze on the woman in the club. She knew everyone around her would be informed but her question remained: what would she do with her? 

* * *

It was amongst the shadows, Gothalia leaned against the cold wall, opposite the club and out of sight. Upon inspection, she observed a woman mingling mid people she'd met throughout the night, including a man with a familiar scent she recognised from a long time ago. The smell alone made a sudden bitterness well within her stomach. Why it had even occurred was something she had no idea on how to begin to decipher.

Even if the evening had turned to morning over half-an-hour ago, it had not persuaded the woman, who dawdled with her friends down the street, to head home. With this meagreness, irritation beckoned within Gothalia, more than she'd ever care to admit.

She was sure the woman had not even touched her drink throughout the night, but it was only an hour before Gothalia realised she was pretending she had. For what purpose?

She's not getting a taxi, Gothalia pondered, scanning the taxi ranks, then the nearby roofs shrouded in darkness. The trackers blended with the obscurity of the night, hidden from view, but her eyes sharper than a humans' easily made out their forms.

Though, it was the woman's poor acting that provided Gothalia with enough decency to linger behind and observe her impending exchanges a little more closely.

Gothalia recalled overhearing a conversation in the bathroom by the same group of women, who had sat beyond where the music could touch them earlier that night. However, it was not a conversation. It was more like the woman would speak to them when necessary, and they would eagerly respond like shameless lapdogs.

"Found the contact yet?" Danteus asked, sounding bored. Gothalia knew tiredness seized him, and he failed to remove any trace of weariness from his voice.

"Maybe, not sure yet."

Danteus didn't utter a word.

The brunette woman travelled from the twenty-four-hour shop, not too far from the bar, then parted with her group before wandering further down a street.

Quickly, Gothalia followed. After a few turns, she'd finally heard the woman's voice and the catcalling of men. Gothalia chased the woman, only to stumble upon the men's bodies lying dead on the ground, their skin blue and cold. Yet no blood coated the grey tarmac alley.

Gothalia whistled into the darkness before placing her fingers to her earpiece, gently feeling the smooth texture of the device.

"I found her. The Contact."

"Her?" Danteus replied, uncertain.

"Yes. Her." Gothalia rebutted at his unwarranted surprise. "She left human bodies behind. I've informed the trackers. Tailing her now." After the woman, she ran.

Her heels echoed against the concrete ground.

"Stay on her," Danteus ordered.

Gothalia dug into her bag and pulled out a silver-black helmet. Tapping the sensor on the side, she pushed her hair back and put on the helmet. A screen slid over her face, providing a live video stream for Danteus.