Super•Villainess

VI: Atticus

"It's quiet," Fate observed with the inflection of someone only just holding back from adding, Too quiet.

The grand chateau we'd been staking out intermittently that past week indeed showed little activity - no guards, an untempered garden taking over the many walls - but Pendulum was a notoriously private man who needed no protection. I hardly expected a theme park on the lawn. The place was timeless, cut away from the world; exactly where I envisioned a man fashioned as the "Time-Weaver" might build a home.

Still, Fate's apprehension, his clear implication that we should postpone our true mission for yet another day, plucked at a nerve. While he had the luxury of time at his disposal for him to freely waste, the whispers were only growing louder in my head, increasingly difficult to distinguish from reality. I allowed our main task to be put off so long only because we had Ren's errands to run anyway. Now that we reached a standstill in the pursuit of his elusive acquaintance, it was time to shift focus back to our primary objective.

"By all means," I began brusquely, locking in on a deep shadow cutting across the third floor terrace, "stay here."

The warbled roar of my own shadows swelling to swallow me whole drowned out his muffled response, and then I was in blissful freefall, ferried through the wild, unseen corridors of the earth to my final destination. The white-washed stone sprouting abruptly beneath my feet aided little in the way of camouflage, so I made haste in jiggling the hooked knob to the nearby set of french doors. Locked. Annoying. I chose this balcony in the hope that the proud owner of an abode so remote might forsake security measures this far off the ground-level. More irritating was the reflective glass preventing me from seeing inside enough to shadow through.

A better telekinetic could have carefully maneuvered the tumblers until they released the lock, but such delicate work was lost to me in my current state, and possibly even at my best, too.

Touching a gloved palm to an individual pane, in which I caught sight of my drightful reflection - a wraith awash in charcoal gray - I let frost seep from my fingertips and was soon greeted by the shrill clang of glass shards spraying the ground. After pausing to listen for the potential sound of people being roused to my intrusion, I reached through and unlocked my way from the inside.

I made my way into an empty bedroom, uninhabited for some years, if the dust blanketing the gilt furniture was anything to go by.

First thoughts? My mother and Pendulum shared the same interior decorator, but he reeked of old, neglectful wealth earned over his centuries-long life, compared to my parents' nouveau riche, strategic affluence.

The dark clung to my legs like spider-webs as I moved into the corridor untouched by dusk peaking through nonexistent windows. The sconces unlit by both electrical and fire-power, I found my heartbeat slowing. Perhaps Pendulum was Master of the Moment, but the shade was where I played best.

Carefully, carried by the night, I descended a steep staircase and found the second floor equally abandoned. Had Ren given me the wrong information, either by design or because he himself was misinformed? While you couldn't deceive the mind-reader, he too could be victimized by ignorance. What if Pendulum moved on from this place?

By the time I approached the identical grand-staircases meant to awe those peering up from the ground level, my guard was rising again. A small, nearly imperceptible shuffle against a rich, emerald carpet had me whirling in place, flinging forth the first power that emerged at my call: telekinesis. The hooded figure was thrust halfway across the open hall, chased closely by half a dozen sickles of ice, before I recognized my victim and wrenched the attack to an abrupt halt with the closing of my fist.