Consideration for Scoundrels

TWENTY-ONE

"Alright, let's try this."

Celeste squared her feet and concentrated. And concentrated...and...

"What's supposed to happen?"

"No idea." Her eyes were still shut.

"Pardon my interruption, but how do your...abilities, work?" Wolfe had stepped away as if he feared Celeste was going to burst into flames.

"Again, no idea." Celeste admitted. "Partly on instinct, best I can gather."

The flames and shadow came as easy as breathing; an unconscious flex of her mind and her will before form. Protect herself, protect Selena, parlor tricks to scare off the Noctaum, to light a fire to keep warm or light the way; independent of conscious effort, guided by Celeste's unspoken desires or commands. But this seemed different; far more mechanical.

And she had no idea what she was doing. What the Hell did she even think she was supposed to do?

Selena watched her; Celeste's jaw set in to a hard line, her entire body tensing until

Selena could see the veins pulsing in her neck.

"Celestine..."

"Lena." Celeste let one eye crack open, a narrow slit of silver hardened to steel. "I'm trying to concentrate."

"Well, you look like you're going to have an aneurism if you keep on this way."

Wolfe had the good sense to stifle his laughter, disguising it as another bout of coughing, as Selena stood from the couch and approached Celeste.

Both eyes open now, Celeste let out an frustrated sigh.

"It's not working. I don't even know what 'it' is supposed to be!"

"Relax." Selena instructed, pushing down the other girl's shoulders, which had risen near to her ears. "A door doesn't care how hard you push on it, if it's meant to be pulled open. You're pushing Celestine," Selena's voice dipped low; "pull."

Celeste felt her skin vibrate at the word. She shut her eyes once more, felt the goose flesh prickle at her skin as she conjured forth the image of a deep, dark pool. Dark as a moonless sky, smooth as velvet. It beckoned to her, coaxing her to allow herself to be submerged. Celeste took a step, and allowed herself to plunge.

Selena was grateful that somehow, her consciousness was able to reconcile what she'd witnessed; one moment Celeste stood a hand's width away and the next...nothing. She'd felt the shadows, cold and grasping rushing forth, and in the blink of her eye, Celeste was gone.

Wolfe yelped, leaping to his feet. "My word." He gasped. "Is she..."

"She's alright." Selena reassured him. "I'd feel it if...if something was wrong."

"Ms. O'Connell," Wolfe said, tone deathly serious; "speak plainly my dear; are you certain this...issue...is one you are prepared to be tied to?"

She heard the unspoken question. The unsaid truth that with enough money and power, the "issue" could go away, she could remove herself from it as if it had never occurred. And what would removing the issue mean? For London? For Celeste? For Selena? To lose the girl she'd known in body less than a week, but whose entire history was now imprinted on her soul. How easy it would be, for one girl, an Irish girl at that with no family nor connections, to simply...disappear. It was out of the question. In fact, Selena found herself having to swallow her rage before answering.

"Celestine saved my life." Selena repeated, her tone clipped and sharp as a knife's edge. "And...that has had consequences neither of us anticipated." She held out her hand, showing the Professor the red angry line that cut across her palm. "What happens to her, happens to me."