The Rising - Ennead 2

Scene 10.6: What the Heart Wants

Manuela

I can't find the witch. Ever since she and her friends moved out of my scope...

I've never experienced this before, but I've been told tracking Magi could become difficult. What I'd do to be a Faerie, with better scrying abilities.

Wait. That grey sportscar. It's for the witch. Ostentatious and obvious, just like her paper trail. Anais, is what she calls herself on her records, and Anais spends like a hemorrhaging anal sphincter.

I do the sensible thing, I cut off their escape. Deflating care tires is simple enough with a few pulls of the fabric. Next up is to make sure their engines...

They're out! And moving fast. Only one of them was taken out by the shrapnels of glass.

I line them up in my sights and wait for that split second where I can make the best kill shot. The human body, I don't think normals realize how fragile their bodies are.

"MARKSMAN!" the farsending slams into my head so suddenly that I bop my forehead with my own wand.

"MY NAME IS DENISE CHO, HONORED DAUGHTER OF THE THIRD SOCIETY. SEIZE AND DESIST IMMEDIATELY!"

My stomach churns. My tactical options never accounted for this! How did she even guess that I'm Aelf? Urgh, stupid question. Of course she'd know. Even before she knew how she knew, she knew. Urgh! Weird-ass Society.

I grab my knapsack and scuttle out of the line of sight. I don't care if it's stupid, but I'm not taking any chances. They say that some masters of the Third Society can pick ideas out of your head.

My butt lands in a wet spot, but I stay put, counting to twenty slowly as my heart slows down. My knees are burning from the sudden friction of the movement, but it's not the sort of pain I haven't been through on a hunt before.

A couple of thoughts arrange themselves in the fluttered space of my mind. It takes a second to parse what my own memories and lessons are telling me. The words I'm looking for resound, even in my noisy head, and they are pronounced in the voice of my mentor.

"... corruption in their ranks..."

I scramble to my feet too slowly. By the time I'm up, they're gone. Somehow, my tire deflation spell missed one car. The shiny sports car that the witch girl brought to the party is gone.

I'm so STUPID! I followed instinct instead of thinking my actions through. Of course, the Psychic woman is corrupted, in league with the agents of darkness themselves. I make a quick sign of the cross before I start down the stairs. I stopped believing in religion when Levi died but the habit remains. 

##

There's a coffee shop round the corner from where the Psychic stays. It's quaint, and if you buy a bun, refills are free. The gentle old lady looks at me, with my battered backpack and brand new ultrabook. I wonder what she's thinking. I don't care though, as long as she doesn't ask questions.

It's a good thing to be prepared. All it took was a well aimed shot to attach a normal spy-camera to a telephone pole. When the old lady moves away after my third refill I restore the window of my video feed.

The house is quiet. No ambulance yet. This could mean a couple of things, but it doesn't tell me much. I don't know how many people are in there. I can't tell which room the witch and her cronies are in.

Curtains hide too much, at least for now. When it's much later, they'll switch their lights on, and then I'll have a little more information than I have now. People are predictable that way. They might be scared, but it won't stop them from making mistakes.

I mimimize the window again and try and sip the coffee. Too hot! Why does any drink need to be this hot? Ugh.

I've drawn the old lady's attention and she looks at me, concerned. "Everything okay dear?"

I nod, maybe too quickly. It's not a good thing to draw attention. I don't have the liberty of erasing my presence. It's not like I regret joining my Society, but still, it would be a nice trick to be able to pull.

To take my mind off the waiting, I pull up the file I have on the Psychic. I thought they were supposed to be smarter than this, right? Why would she let me know her identity?

I don't have access to the kind of information a Psychic would have access to, but the normal databases have plenty. Her job, her pay slips, her purchases... even her former address. I will have to ask the Archon who she is later; well, after she's dead of course.

A throaty mustang pulls up, dangerously close to the kerb, and an old  guy gets down. Okay, maybe not that old, but he's got to be older the the Archon at least. He's on the phone when he comes in, and he seems to know the old lady. I pay him no mind.

The patchwork of data tells me me more as I scan through it. The woman that got hit was probably her sister, Rachel. Judging from the unnatural reaction time, she's probably a Knight of some rank.

I wish I could send some of this information to the Archon right away, but there's no point in breaking protocol. I have to get this hit done and away with...

His cologne is subtle, so I don't notice him until he sighs and sets his coffee cup down. The light thud of the mug meeting the cork coaster is enough to get my attention. I'm not good at keeping my emotions hid – my irritation crawls across my brow.

He smirks, amused, but doesn't say a word and begins to sip his coffee. The hairs on the back of my neck begin to stand on end. This isn't comfortable. There are other, empty, tables in the shop. Why did he choose this one?

I don't know why I feel this way, but I need to get out of here. I minimize my apps and manage to calmly slurp down the rest of my coffee.

I'm closing the ultrabook's lid when he clears his throat, loudly.