Strange Aeons [Book 1]

23. The Mousetrap [part I]

It was a three-story lonely Villa, well outside town, in the open country, with a great field and a forest to surround it all. The perfect little place where to relax for weekends at a time. It was a historical 1900 building, made with red bricks and tall white windows with intricated panes and small windowsills with baskets of flowers, very Austrian. It had a red tile roof and white plaster decorations between the floors. It was big, but it looked extremely cozy and warm.

It was secluded and private, with a tall brick wall and a decorated iron gate, with a great central treble clef. Inside the gate, a well-kept light brown gravel drive led directly to the main door and the near garage.

There were gardeners in the big garden surrounding the villa, obsessively trimming the green grass and the perfectly kept trees and flowers. There were cameras on the gate and all around the wall, inside and outside.

From the road, three yards from the Villa itself Banshee was observing the place. In her arms, a thick white cat was purring with glee, as she mindlessly scratched his head.

«You can scratch my belly if you want.» the cat meowed, softly.

«River, Jesus wept, we have more serious things to think about!» she grumbled

Banshee looked at her watch. Staccato said to his Coven not to contact him from three o'clock to six o'clock in the afternoon that day.

They waited until half-past three. When it became sure that, wherever Staccato was, it wouldn't be in this particular house of his, they started with the plan.

The cat morphed elegantly in a fly and pinned itself on her shoulder. Banshee put her braid and face inside a black balaclava. She was wearing blue jeans and a black anonymous long sleeve shirt, and of course gloves.

She closed her eyes and concentrated. She had watched her arrival point very well for the last hour. She felt the fluxes bend and follow her will, their colors pulsating around her hands first, then around her whole body, twisting and turning on her skin. Detail by detail, like a puzzle, the road around her disappeared, and the house's chimney appeared. She felt the roof tiles under her feet, as she remained perfectly still, in the plain open air, up over Staccato's house.

«Neat! I always envied you teleporters!» River's little voice chimed from her shoulder.

«Yeah, and now, we go old-fashion again. Come on.» she said and checked her surroundings. The gardeners downstairs were too preoccupied with soil and plants to look up, and the chimney gave her good cover anyway. Still, she moved slowly, sliding down the sloped roof towards a back balcony.

River flew down from her shoulder, attached himself to the roof and turned into a rope ladder. Banshee grabbed hold of it and descended on the balcony, and remained still. The balcony was in the shadow of the house, and its railing was heavy and marble. If she remained crouched and still, it would have been difficult to tell her from any other shadow. River morphed back into a fly and went back on her shoulder.

Banshee passed him a button. It was just a nice, shiny steel button, that River took in his very small hinder legs and then mutated again, this time taking a little more time.

Banshee looked at the sheet of paper, shaking her head. Then, very carefully, slid it, little by little, under the French window, and inside what looked like a bedroom. She saw the sheet enter, and then morph again into a scolopendrium – disgusting but effective – with the button right on top of it.

Then, she just had to wait. She crouched even more against the wall

The "clack" of the French window sent a shiver down her spine. She turned her head.