A Tale of Traitors

The Assassin--Part 4

      Freezing fog clung to his skin and covered him in goosebumps. He lurked in the cover of shadows, watching the silent hideout of Syrnafin and his psycho followers. The last time he'd been to the house, he'd been chased out by spirits. He had spent a night in Antarctica, and most of the spirits had been too confused to follow him further. One, he suspected, would return to the house soon, searching for any hint of where the warrior had gone. He wondered if he had gotten here before the spirit, or if there was a nasty surprise waiting inside for him.
     The house was anything but quiet, absolutely bustling with nervous elves who checked the windows every few minutes for signs of movement outside. For a split second, he took pity on those within. Unsuspecting elves who could not predict what was going to happen next. He considered his options. He decided he would use captoveritas spell. Captoveritas was considered to be on the edge of dark and light spells, which was why it was risky to perform. A dark spell would draw spirits, which would be infuriating. A light one would drive them away. Captoveritas, to one who knew what they were doing, was simply a very intense level of persuasiveness.
     Persuasiveness that no one could refuse, no matter how greatly, that would extract all useful information. Almost like painful, persuasive truth serum that cuts through one's brain with perfect precision. He knew what he was doing. Besides, pain was the least of his worries right at that moment. Anyone who would not help him would be considered an enemy.
     All he had to do was wait for the perfect moment, so he waited out of sight and tried to calm his stir-crazy griffin. He seriously doubted that Willow would lay low for long. Sure, she was smart, but she was equally as stubborn and absolutely hated being useless. There was no way that she would see pain and hurt around her and not try to fix it. He admired that. He also figured it would get her killed one day.
     He watched an Average walk past with a small, furry animal on a leash. The Average's whole face was hidden in a massive hoodie, making him look like he had just rolled out of bed. He probably had. The assassin shook his head and wondered what point the Averages had in living. Willow had always been intrigued by Averages, though to anyone else there was nothing to see. She didn't even approve of the name "Averages," finding it offensive to a species that she claimed was quite special. He wanted to see them the way she did, but that was impossible. She didn't see people as they actually were, but rather as the very best version they could ever be, regardless of how everyone else saw them. She looked at treacherous forests and saw refuge, not danger. She looked at Kaedah and saw dear friends, not enemies. But the way she saw him was probably the most surprising...

His phone buzzed in his pocket. He recognized the number.

"Have you found her?" The raspy voice spoke.
"More or less." Adresin responded quietly.
"How close are you?"
"About to interrogate--"
"How. Close."
"Close." The assassin spat.
"Good work."
Before Adresin could hang up, he heard the man speak again.
"I want you to remember that if any harm comes to her," he paused dramatically, "I. Will. Hunt you down."
"Damian," Adresin fumed. "I care about her, too."
"Sure. Call when you've found her." Damian ended the call and left Adresin to his secret business.

He was furious, but not at Damian. He was furious at himself, because Damian had every right to hate him. 

He wouldn't think about that right now.

Seeing his opening, he took a deep breath before breaking into the house.