Never An Angel

Second

        Declan was waiting patiently in the back room of the bar as Magdalen had instructed, and she nodded to him as she stepped into the room. She noticed that Kist was nowhere to be found. But there were other men, trusted men, waiting around like soldiers for battle. Tired and a bit sore from Petra's early morning shower, Magdalen sat at the poker table in the middle of the room. The felt had the aroma of cigars, liquor, and something most decidedly illegal. She touched it and idly made a mental note to tell someone to replace it.

     Everyone watched her stroke the felt. No one dared move to sit with her.

     But eventually Declan shifted his stance to be taller. "Kist informed us about what you wanted. He's dealing with those we caught already. As for Peter, who we believe was the first to be flipped, we-" he motioned toward the other men gathered- "are ready to track him down. We're certain he's getting help that's prevented us from having him already."

     Magdalen rubbed the pads of her thumb and middle finger together. The grime from the felt was present and it disgusted her. She was trying to remember who Peter was, to form some kind of face in her memory. But she was distanced from her operation for a reason. It was difficult for her to focus on anything that didn't directly relate to her or her inner circle. That only pissed her off more. "I know I asked you here, but I could have dealt with one or two of you. Why the fuck are the rest of you here instead of out looking for... Peter? Who's smart idea was it to waste valuable time?" Her eyes were focused on the poker table, her capacity to maintain calm nowhere near great. She was speaking softly to prevent herself from screaming. "Who's fucking idea was it? Why the fuck are you still here?"

    Everyone in the room was suddenly uncomfortable aside from Magdalen, and that only further enraged her. She could see them in her peripheral struggling to make the choice to leave immediately to do her bidding or stay and not be rude.

     Declan took the initiative and went into motion. He made an odd chirp-hiss noise while waving his hand rapidly. The other men fled the room while trying not to look like they were fleeing. In the silence they left behind Declan gave Magdalen a minute to herself. Then another, and another. Her anger issue was a serious problem but he dealt with it long enough to know how to handle it relatively well.

     "Declan," she eventually sighed when she could without snapping. "I've had the most wonderful morning and now I'm extremely pissed. Where the hell is Kist? I need to punch something."

     "The warehouse. You should stay here and let Kist handle things there."

     "Sometimes I want to get bloody," she murmured, crossing her legs and holding her face in a hand. She wanted to feel her muscles bunch, feel her strength smack into something solid. She had been turned into a violent creature that was second nature now, and there wasn't much else that got the inky upset out of her quite like violence. But with her move to the underground she wasn't given much opportunity for real time brawls anymore. It both relieved and saddened her.

     As she thought, her phone buzzed, giving her something else to focus on. She tapped the screen lazily and was only slightly surprised that it was a text message from Petra, who wanted to know when she'd be back home and if she'd go to the store to pick up a few things. It was bold, and she hummed. Petra was only around for a short visit so what could she possibly need? Whatever the case, Magdalen didn't think she needed to say no. What she needed now more than ever was a link to the normal world. If that meant buying this or that, then so be it.

     "Alright," she told Declan, putting her phone away. "I'll let Kist handle it." There was no sense in getting dirty when she had to get back to Petra. "But I do have other things to do today. Bring your car around, and one or two of the men."