101 - A Perfect Sky; A Storm

4

Faith is waiting for me, arms crossed in dismay, when I slip through the boarded window of headquarters.

I meet her disappointed gaze with squared shoulders and my chin high.

"I needed to make sure Oz was okay," I assert confidently as I tug my hood down and smooth my hair.

Her rich chestnut curls sway as she shakes her head. "We dream of a laser beam shooting from the sky, with them at the base of it, and you thought it was a good idea to check them out solo? Are you fucking concussed?" She splays her arms out wide—but I know she understands as well as I do the undeniable drum of a slayer's instinct, our stubbornness. And my need to right every mistake I make. If she knew how capable I was—if I allowed her to see the full extent of my abilities—she wouldn't be so freaked.

"I know damn well you didn't fall back asleep that fast," I counter. "You had all the time to stop me. And I was barely gone two hours." I didn't think it a big deal, but worry darkens her already muddy glare. "The slayer's hurt," I push on, "Here's our chance to make sure she's good." I say the last word with the same tone Faith had earlier, slithering out of her jacket and offering it out.

Faith snatches it away, huffing a sigh as she puts it on.

I proceed with my report with my chin up, hoping I've found something from that recon to make up for going rogue. "There's an older couple... a man and a woman that they live with. In a garden house just outside of the city. They were tending to her wounds, but I don't know how severe it is. I left while she was still unconscious."

"Did you at least get a name?" Faith asks, her jaw grinding with the effort to rein in her temper.

"The van is registered under—"

"Yeah, I saw who it was registered under," she interrupts. "It's not stolen?"

I let my shoulders fall, then unravel my onyx locks, brushing out the crumbs of leaves hiding within them. "The slayer's name is Kai."

Faith's eyes light up with recognition. "Malakai."

I nod. "They have Oz chained up in their basement, but it doesn't feel like a hostage sitch. Jay said he was their friend."

Upon hearing of Kai's condition, Faith's jaw softens, but her eyes are still daggers on me—a reminder of who gives the orders. There is nothing warm in her voice as she commands, "Wake Moira. Tell her to bring her supplies."

I give another tight nod, then jog up one floor to where Moira sleeps in one of the many vacant hotel rooms.

† † †

Moira Cunningham is our resident medic and demonologist—and formerly a witch—whose niche is medicine and human anatomy. She possesses extensive knowledge about the human body—and how to break it, so do not try her. Under normal circumstances, she would be a formidable opponent to reckon with; in a world without magick, though, she is no match against a slayer.

If the witch had her powers, however, perhaps she'd prove a challenge.

Additionally, Moira is partially deaf; her hearing has been progressively deteriorating and will continue to do so. Living the way we are currently, there have been many times when she couldn't charge her hearing aids, or they've been damaged or destroyed amidst battle.

No one knows how much time is left before we have to rely solely on American Sign Language altogether... but at least it has proven helpful on recons when we're unable to communicate vocally.

While the ex-witch-turned-medic is no stranger to field missions, when she lost her magick, she was forced to become a benchwarmer, instructed to stay out of the fray unless it was necessary for her to step in. It isn't that Moira can't handle herself—nowadays, it is too risky to have her in the middle of battle. As the Organization's official Second Rank Mage Specialist and Medic Command, her knowledge is invaluable.