Seamus Dornan

Patreon Snippets 9 (Heretical Edge)

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Hey guys! Here are (most) of this edition of Patreon snippets. There was one request for a bit from Summus Proelium, which is awesome to already have! After some thought, I’ve decided that mixing snippets from different stories could probably get confusing for anyone who is reading through only one or the other at any given time. So I’ve decided to keep them separate. But by the same token, one 500 word snippet is entirely too short for a whole chapter. Thus, we will simply have that stuck onto the end of the next actual Summus Proelium chapter as a sort of addition, with a quick note about what exactly it is. 

As a quick reminder,  the way these work is that every month, each Patreon supporter who donates at least ten dollars is able to request five hundred words toward any subject they would like to see written about (within reason), join their idea to others to make it longer, or hold it for future installments. All of my gratitude and thanks go to them for making this story possible. 

“Koraug, Teragn, Meyfers, Three-oh-oh-two, Three-oh-oh-three, Zaps, and Qork, with me!” The tall, blond man calling out names from a list stood in the doorway of a large barracks-like room. Hundreds of simple cots filled the room stretching off into the distance. At least, they looked simple at first glance. In reality, there was a powerful forcefield blocking each occupant from leaving their cot or the small area immediately around it. Not only that, but while most of the cots were of generally uniform size, there were some that were either much smaller for occupants who were actually tiny, all the way up to beds that were several times larger than normal. 

Gordon Kuhn’s father, a dark-skinned man with a neatly trimmed goatee named Sindri Koraug, rose from his bed as the forcefield dimmed. His eyes, pure silver with no white or pupil to them, glanced over the other six people that had been called as they all made their way to the Eden’s Garden Heretic who had summoned them. 

A second Heretic stepped into view, this one a younger-looking dark-haired female. “The hell, Coppe? Where’re you getting all those names from? Only thing on that list is the numbers.”

The blond man replied, “Simple, Pike, I’ve asked them what their names are before. The ones who gave me a name, I use. Three-oh-oh-two and Three-oh-oh-three haven’t.” With that, the man gestured to the assembled group. “Come on, big job today.” 

He turned to leave through the doorway, followed by Pike. Sindri glanced around at his companions as they filed through as well. Teragn was a male Orc, Meyfers a female Deitezen (a humanoid species with no hair, green skin, four eyes, and no mouth who communicated telepathically and also had telekinetic abilities), Zaps and Qork were both male Gafaiez (short, squat beings who looked like piles of rocks and crystals capable of generating lasers of varying intensity from the gems that were scattered throughout their bodies), and ‘Oh Two and ‘Oh Three were Trolls. 

The group walked together through the Heretic outpost. The world they were on didn’t have a name yet. It had only recently been discovered. This was the first exploration camp sent by Eden’s Garden. By the Lost Scar tribe, specifically, to whom Sindri and all of his companions belonged. The camp itself had only been set up a couple weeks earlier, and was essentially a circle of quickly-erected buildings set down in the middle of a clearing that had been created at the edge of a forest of gray-and-black trees. The dirt under their feet was a light orange, and a mountain that the camp was near was mostly black as well. 

Given the make-up of their group, Sindri had a pretty good guess of what their job would be. His assumption was born out as they were led right up to the side of that jagged, imposing mountain.

“Boss wants a defensive station,” Coppe explained. “That means cutting into this mountain so we can use it as a backdrop. That’s your jobs today. Cut into the hill here so we can start moving buildings in. There’s a design page here.” His hand extended a sheet of paper, which Sindri took. “Follow the illustration, come if you have any questions. There’s breakfast on the table there.” He pointed nearby. “Lunch will be in four hours. If you do a good job, you’ll get double allotments for dinner tonight. Any questions?” Receiving nothing but silent looks, the man nodded. “Good. Get busy. We’ll be watching.” 

As he turned to start in on the newest job, Sindri thought briefly about his wife and the son he had not seen for so long. Were they okay? Were they safe? He had to assume they were, as if any of his captors had known anything about them, he had no doubt he would have been killed to prevent any word of human-Alter genetic compatibility. 

And that was good enough. Whatever he had to do, wherever he had to work, as long as he was put to work and treated like any other slave, it meant they didn’t know about his son. Which meant his family wasn’t in immediate danger.. 

If it meant they’d stay that way, he…

*******

“… could move mountains,” Lincoln Chambers announced. “You know, before I found out that Jos literally could at some point. But not counting powers or anything, just force of personality. Talk at a mountain and make it decide to move.”

Lillian Patters looked up from the table where she and Lincoln were sitting on the porch of one of the cabins. “Joselyn has that effect on people.” 

With a small smile, Lincoln noted, “I asked her about Lillian, you know.” 

“You asked her about Lillian?” she echoed curiously. 

The man nodded. “I asked her where the name came from. She didn’t know. She just said it was a nice name, that it made her smile and… and that she felt like our daughter would be safe with that name. Like it would watch over her.” 

With a small smile as a pang of heartache swept through her, Lillian quietly replied, “I felt the same when I suggested my daughter use Joselyn for her daughter’s middle name.  It just felt right.” She looked away then, thinking about her old best friend, her sister in almost every respect. Memories, newly unlocked, flooded her mind. Too many to focus on. 

Finally, she breathed out, forcing herself to speak through a somewhat shaky voice. “It… must have been hard for you, to believe that she would just leave her family like that.” 

Lincoln didn’t respond at first. She looked up once more to see him gazing off into the distance. His voice, when he spoke, was soft. “I didn’t believe it at all for… maybe ever. I thought she was… taken, abducted, from the beginning. The message she left, the things people said they saw when she took off, the phone call to the station… none of it was convincing. Not for me. I just… I just knew she was in trouble. Someone had her, someone was hurting her. I knew it. So I… I tried to find her. For a couple months, it was all I focused on, following every lead, harassing her old deputies, calling the FBI every day.” 

Watching his face, Lillian pointed out, “It doesn’t sound like you really changed your mind.” 

He swallowed. “I guess I kind of made myself set it aside. Two months, and… and I had to put it away. There were no leads, no signs of her, no one was taking me seriously.” 

“But you wouldn’t have given up like that,” Lillian murmured. “Not after two months. What happened?” 

“Taddy,” Lincoln answered softly, looking over to her. “Taddy was… he was the stuffed raccoon that Jos gave Felicity when she was a baby. She loved that little guy more than anything. I was still working on the case, still trying to find Joselyn a couple months after she disappeared. It was… it was getting to me. I found one of her sweatshirts that she wore the night before she disappeared and was trying to go over it for any hairs or anything that weren’t hers, in case the guy who took her made contact earlier. I guess I kind of lost myself in it, and Felicity saw me. The next thing I knew, she…” He swallowed hard once more, breathing unsteadily. “She cut it apart. She ripped it into pieces. She destroyed it, to hurt her mother, because she thought her mom hurt me.” 

Lillian winced. “That’s when you decided to focus on raising her.” 

“Yeah,” Lincoln confirmed. “That’s when I knew that… that Joselyn would want me to make sure our daughter was okay. That’s where I put everything I had, on… on raising Felicity, on being there for her. Because I realized that I was obsessing so much on finding Jos that I could lose our daughter too. I… I had to choose which one to save. I chose Felicity.”

“That’s the choice Jos wanted you to make,” Lillian assured him. She hesitated then, before asking, “What about this Flick thing? I prefer Felicity, for the record.” 

“She decided she hated the name Felicity,” Lincoln informed her. “I… I couldn’t argue with her. It made things worse. She connected Felicity to her mother, since Jos loved that name so much. It was…” He paused. “It was actually… this year, at her birthday, when she finally said she wanted me to call her Felicity again. Here I thought it meant she’d made some big breakthrough about forgiving her mother. And she had. Little did I know she made that breakthrough because the psychotic piece of shit necromancer who took her mother to begin with showed up to gloat about it and tell her that her mother never chose to abandon her at all.” 

Lillian reached out to touch his arm, squeezing it. “You and Felicity have been through a lot this year.” Pausing, she amended, “You’ve been through a lot your whole lives, even if you didn’t know it.” 

With a soft chuckle, Lincoln nodded in agreement. “Tell me about it.” He checked his watch before standing. “But do it on the way to meeting Scott. I’m told you and he have some history.” 

“Some history?” Lillian snorted. “The boy owes me fifty dollars from one of his previous lives.” She glanced to Lincoln while standing. “That must’ve been a lot for you to take in too, this boy who grew up right in your view turning out to be a lot older than that.” 

“In the grand scheme of things, it’s one of the larger surprises, yes,” Lincoln confirmed, heading for the steps. “Kind of makes sense though. I always thought that kid’s musical taste was really old-fashioned.” 

Lillian started to respond to that, before her gaze moved to look off the porch. “Looks like we have company,” she announced with a smile at the sight of the young Seosten children rushing up to meet them, accompanied by their current (rather exhausted) babysitter. As the kids approached, they waved while loudly calling…

*******

“Walker!” 

The trio of voices chorusing his name made Jonathan Walker look up from the newspaper he had been reading while leaning against the black Mercedes that he drove for his employer. He watched as said employer’s three young children, two boys named Bart and Max who were in sixth and fifth grade respectively, and a fourth-grade girl named Erica, all ran from their school to meet him. 

“Hey, kids,” the man greeted, opening the back door of the car to let them all pile in with their backpacks. “How was school, oldest to youngest?” He walked around to the driver’s side then, getting in just in time for Bart to launch into the story of his day. 

Pulling away from the curb while listening to that with one ear, he glanced into the rearview mirror and caught sight of his own face. The way the shadows fell across them made it look as though he had two very black eyes. And in that brief second, he wasn’t in the car. He was transported back to that day forty-five years earlier, when so much had changed. 

He wasn’t born Jonathan Walker. He’d gone through several names and identities in his time, most of them bad ones. Johnny Walker just happened to be the brand of whisky that was used in the bottle that was broken over his head in the barfight that had resulted in him having two actual black eyes. 

The barfight he had lost against a normal human. He was a werewolf. A werewolf, and he had lost a fist fight with an ordinary human being. A human being named Arthur Chambers, in fact. 

That had been a wake-up call, but it wasn’t the only one. Seeing him lose a fight had made his pack abandon him. The man left on the floor of that bar with no pride, no pack, and nothing left in his life had decided to erase it all. He’d changed his name, changed his entire identity. He had remade himself, seeing that as the low point from which he would either lose himself literally, or metaphorically. 

He chose metaphorically, abandoning everything he had been. Taking the name of the last drink he’d had (as well as the one that had been broken over his head), the newly dubbed Jonathan Walker set out to educate himself, grow in every way he could, and eventually became bodyguard and driver for the rich and secretive. His current job, protecting these children, had only been a thing for a couple years. But it was already one of his favorite gigs. He loved these kids, and God help anyone who tried to hurt them. 

“Sounds great, Bart,” he spoke up then while guiding the car to a stop. “Just make sure you ask your mom or dad before having those kids over next week. You know the rules.” His eyes moved then to catch sight of the other boy. “Max, how’d that project go? You tell Miss Forter about Donny not doing his share?” 

Yes, getting the shit kicked out of him and being abandoned by his pack back in ‘73 had been a damn fine wake-up call. A lot had changed since then. For the better, as far as he was concerned. He was a different man. Without that beating, he had no idea what kind of person he would be today.

When all was said and done, he definitely owed Arthur Chambers a drink. 

******

“Four. You owe me four drinks,” Seamus Dornan informed his cousin. The red-haired man, who stood only five-foot seven inches, seemed smaller than that as he leaned over the bar scribbling notes on inventory papers. Given the time, the place was empty aside from himself and the man he was addressing. Roger Dornan, his cousin. 

Roger was an inch shorter than Seamus himself, and of even slighter stature. His own hair was a very light blond, worn down to his shoulders. At the moment, he was throwing darts at a nearby board. “We own a bar, dude,” Roger informed his cousin. “Put it on my tab.” 

“You do have a tab, you know,” Seamus retorted. “I’m keeping track of every drink you take. Every drink I know about,” he belatedly amended. “Just because we own the place doesn’t mean we get to take everything we want. We have to keep track of it, or you’ll put us out of business.” 

“And I am right on top of paying that back,” Roger distractedly and unconvincingly replied, judging his aim before throwing the dart. Halfway there, it multiplied into a dozen identical darts, all of which hit the board along the triple score band, with one hitting the exact center. “God, I am good.” 

Turning then, Roger asked, “How many are we moving this morning?” 

Flipping over a paper, Seamus replied, “Looks like nine. They’re waiting downstairs. Seven are anyway. We’re still waiting on a couple Rakshasa. Think you can get all the way to Wonderland without getting pulled over for speeding again?” 

The cousins, though they were Heretics graduated from Crossroads, had abandoned their former beliefs almost six years earlier after encountering a group of Stranger children and finding themselves both unable and unwilling to kill them or leave them to die (or direct other Heretics to the so-called threats). They’d taken care of the children, realized they couldn’t go on like that, and proceeded to fake their own deaths. 

From there, Roger and Seamus had made up new lives, purchased this bar to operate as their cover story, and began to work as transport experts, helping take fleeing Alters safely from one place to another. The two of them knew how Heretic checkpoints worked, could break the various enchantments used to track down Alters or alert Crossroads or Eden’s Garden about them, and in general could keep their charges safe. 

It wasn’t much, given everything going on, but Roger and Seamus both knew they had to do something, and with only the two of them, they didn’t dare openly go against the Establishment. Faking their deaths, using their inside knowledge to keep some Alters safe, developing contacts within that world who were only now, six years later, starting to trust them? That was something. Not much, but something. 

Then it hit. As Roger drew back his hand to throw another dart, and Seamus opened his mouth to tell his cousin to do something useful by checking on the group downstairs, both were hit by a sudden wave. A sudden rush of information… knowledge… revelations. It staggered the men, sending Seamus stumbling back a step while Roger collapsed into the nearest booth. 

Slowly, the two rose. Their gazes found one another, and the two men each spoke a single word, a single name, together. “Joselyn.” 

“She needs help,” Seamus announced, his voice cracking a little from the force of the memories and revelations still exploding through his mind. 

“Yeah,” Roger agreed, just as staggered. “But where the hell is she?” 

******

“Right in there.” 

Atop a dark roof several blocks from the glitz, glamor, and blinding lights of the Las Vegas strip, two figures stood. Their backs were to the neon paradise, attention focused instead on a building across the street. It was ostensibly a motel, though one that charged only by the hour (and in many cases, not even that much time was needed). More relevantly, it had been closed for the past week. Closed to new guests, anyway. But it was far from empty. There were lights on in many of the rooms throughout the six-story structure, and the parking lot was half-full. 

“Yeah,” Haiden Moon continued under his breath, “I’d say that’s where our friends are. Right there.”  

Beside him, Sariel nudged his arm and nodded upward toward a large winged figure on the roof. It was armed and watching for people like… well, like them. But Haiden wasn’t worried. The invisibility circle that his wife had drawn around them would stop their friend up there from noticing anything as long as they stayed within it. 

“Yeah,” Sariel agreed quietly, “I’d say this is definitely where those kids got dragged to.” There was a hardness to her voice that reminded Haiden just how personally his wife took someone putting children in danger. 

It made him smile a bit. Sure, the two of them having children was apparently impossible. But still, if they happened to adopt or… or anything in the future, it was good to know that the woman he loved was so great with kids. 

“What do you see?” Sariel asked him, her own gaze on the lookout, who had brought up his rifle to look through the scope toward the strip off in the distance. 

Haiden lowered his gaze from the sniper to the rest of the building, focusing on running through several different vision powers as he scanned the whole place. “They’ve got it pretty well shielded, but… looks like a large group of smaller energy sources on the third floor, near the middle, with three stronger sources around them.” 

“That’ll be the kids and the guys watching them,” Sariel murmured. “As close to the exact center of the building as they can get, to make it harder for any outside group to reach them before they portal away.” 

Haiden nodded. “That was my read too. Beyond that, a few dozen guys spread through the floors above, same amount below. There’s a small army in there, babe.” 

“The part of that they’re going to regret is ‘small,’” she informed him with a wink. “You ready for this? I don’t want to take the chance that they move those kids again, after taking this long to find them.” 

“Yup,” Haiden agreed, reaching into his trench coat before withdrawing four metal balls. He held them out, his attention on the building across the way as he pointed with his other hand. “See that window with the blue curtains? That one.” 

Sariel took one orb at a time, running her thumb across the spellwork inscribed in each before throwing them across the street to hit the each corner of that window. The metal balls struck the wall there before sticking firmly. Once all four were in place, they glowed red once before fading. 

The room was too magically protected to go straight through from the outside. The abductors had taken care to put a powerful shield around the space they had the children stashed. It would take too long to break through that shield before the men inside could portal themselves and their prisoners away. 

But the point of the orbs wasn’t to break through the shield. Instead, the orbs would use the forcefield, adding their own effect to it. An effect which would essentially stop any sound from outside the shield from penetrating, leaving those within deaf to anything going on outside of it. 

In other words, Haiden and Sariel could make as much noise as they wanted without alerting the people inside the room. 

“You want upstairs or downstairs?” Haiden idly asked, glancing to his wife. 

“You take downstairs,” she replied, leaning in to kiss his cheek. “I think angels are supposed to come from above.” 

With a small smile, Haiden nodded. “I guess you should stick to the brand, huh?” Running his hand through her hair, he watched for a second until their friend on the roof moved to another spot of it to check that direction. Then he moved to the edge. “Let’s do this then.” 

“Yes,” Sariel agreed, taking a few steps back before running forward. “Let’s.” 

Haiden held a hand out, waiting for his wife to get near before creating an energy platform about knee height. As Sariel leapt onto it, he made a heaving motion, sending it, and Sariel, flying up toward the top of the other building. That done, he stepped off the roof, falling several stories before landing lightly on his feet on the street, as though he’d simply stepped off the curb. Straightening, he walked toward the door of the motel. 

******

Leaping from the flung forcefield to land silently on the roof of the building, Sariel saw the tall, angular figure across from her spin that way. His rifle was already raised and ready to fire. But she was faster, her hand having lashed out to send the knife in it flying even as she landed. By the time the lookout had the barrel in line with her, the blade had already driven itself through his eye. As the weapon embedded itself there, it sent an electric shock through his body to ensure that his brain shut down entirely. He collapsed to the ground without firing a shot. 

Using her power, Sariel recalled the throwing dagger without breaking stride as she moved to the nearby hatch. Crouching, she checked the spell on it, taking a few seconds to carefully break the enchantment that would have signalled everyone below if anyone but the man lying dead on the other side of the roof had gone through. Once the spell was disabled, she opened the hatch and dropped through. 

*******

As Haiden strode toward the motel entrance, a figure stepped out to stop him. “Sorry, bud,” the man started before jerking to a halt, hand grabbing for a weapon inside his jacket as he blurted, “Heretic!” 

That was as far as the man got before Haiden abruptly appeared behind him, teleporting to the man’s back before catching him around the neck. “You know,” he murmured in the frantically struggling guy’s ear, “I’ve felt pretty guilty about willy nilly killing every non-human out there for a long time. But you? Someone who kidnaps little kids just to start a war they can profit off of? I’m not gonna feel guilty about you.” 

With that, he snapped the man’s neck with a single motion, letting the body fall as that familiar rush of pleasure went through him. He barely acknowledged it, already moving to the door. A man was there, starting to come through with his gun raised. Haiden, however, teleported across the remaining twenty feet or so in an instant, lashing out with his foot to kick the door. The blow sent it flying backward, crashing into the face of the man who was trying to come through. He stumbled, gun firing wildly twice through the gap that had been left. The bullets struck Haiden, but did nothing to penetrate his skin. 

“Dude,” Haiden informed the man while stepping through the doorway, “you’re gonna need a bigger gun.” 

Then he moved, his speed suddenly magnifying to the point that all the man in front of him would see was a blur, as he tore the extended gun from his grasp, crushing it in the same motion as he threw it away. His left hand caught the man’s side while his right held his head, and he hurled the guy sideways to crash into the wall with so much force that his skull was instantly caved in. Haiden was moving so fast in that moment that he actually spun around to the opposite wall and used it to cave the other side of the man’s head in before his death even set in. 

Another rush of pleasure, even as the sound of running footsteps filled the hall. 

*******

Landing lightly on her feet after dropping through the roof hatch, Sariel found herself standing directly between two men, with a third further down. Even as they started to react, she drove her elbow hard into the face of the man behind her while simultaneously shoving the blade in her other hand up through the throat of the one in front of her. Blood sprayed wildly from the wound as she dropped her elbow away from the first man, letting him double over, clutching his broken nose. Using that, she vaulted up and over his hunched form, landing on the far side of him even as the one further down the hall opened fire. Three of his shots hit the body of the man she had already killed, while it was still collapsing. Several more hit the wall right where she had been an instant earlier. 

The man who had been doubled over gave a shouted curse, pivoting to bring his own gun up toward her. But it was gone. The weapon in his hand had vanished, as had the one being held by his still-living partner. Both guns simply vanished from their hands. 

They reappeared in Sariel’s, one held against the near man’s cheek, while the other was aimed down the hall toward the man who had been holding it an instant earlier. Each fired once, the resulting shots putting their respective owners on the ground. 

Tossing the guns to either side, Sariel retrieved her knife from the first man’s throat before jogging for the stairs. 

******

Seven men flooded the hallway ahead of Haiden, rifles raised or hands brimming with energy of their own. One held barely-contained lightning between his palms that was ready to lash out at the threat. All of them came rushing through, saw the Heretic ahead of them, and moved to open fire. 

Just as abruptly, they jerked aside as his black sword was hurled their way. It sailed past the men, embedding itself in an open door somewhere behind them. There was the slightest pause as the group looked from the apparently wildly thrown sword, then back to the Heretic. 

“Uh,” Haiden started with a small smile, “could I get a do-over?” 

Apparently not, as all seven of the men suddenly opened fire. Bullets, lasers, fire, and lightning were sent his way, while Haiden made a pulling gesture with his hand. A sudden pillar of rock broke through the floor, rising up to impose itself between him and the incoming shots. It instantly shuddered under the assault, unable to hold up for long. 

But that was okay. It didn’t need to hold for long. Safe behind his rock wall for the moment, Haiden gave a sharp whistle. Down the hall, beyond where the men stood, his sword reacted. The black blade slid apart right where the glowing red line was, and a pair of gun barrels popped out. They swiveled around to face behind the sword before opening fire to take the gathered troops completely by surprise. 

Several of the men were cut down almost instantly, and Haiden gasped his way through the pleasure of that before forcing himself to focus. A thought and a gesture with both hands broke what remained of the rock pillar into two balls, which he quickly reshaped into spears and sent flying that way. Two of the remaining four men were taken down as the rock spears went right through their backs when they spun to face the sword. The remaining two tried to run for it, sprinting past the sword while the guns swiveled to follow them. Haiden, however, quickly teleported that way. His foot lashed out to kick one of the running men into the nearby wall, while he yanked his sword free and spun, throwing it once more. This time, the blade went right through the last guy, impaling him against the wall. 

“Do-don’t-” the man that he had kicked into the wall used the second he had as his partner’s death gave the Heretic a brief rush of pleasure to plead through the blood that soaked his face. “Just a job. It was just a job. Nothing personal.” 

Haiden lifted his chin. “My friend,” he replied, “that job was kidnapping little children.” He grabbed the man by the throat with one hand, lifting him up before making a gesture that made a rocky spike pop out of the nearby wall. “I take that very personally.” With those words, he gave a sharp shove, impaling the back of the man’s head on the spike before turning away as his aura flared up. 

******

Eventually, Haiden and Sariel met at the door of their destination. Dozens of bodies lay around them, the last stand of the guards who lay outside of the hostage room, while dozens more littered the other floors of the hotel. 

“Chinese,” Haiden informed his wife while flicking blood and… other bodily remains off his blade. “We should totally have Chinese after this. I’m starving.” 

“Once the kids are safe,” Sariel reminded him. “And you’re always starving.” 

“I work up an appetite,” he defended himself, moving to one side of the door. “Let’s see…” He focused his vision on the door, looking through it as he judged locations of the energy signatures. With a flick of his hand, he made an image appear on the nearby wall, a roughly drawn outline of the room beyond. He sketched out the square of the room, showing where the door they were standing by was, then drew in the small circles of the children in the middle, along with the exact locations of each of the three guards. One was just behind the door, one in the far corner, and one standing just over the kids. “Got it?” 

Sariel gave a short nod, cracking her neck before producing her knife in one hand and a small rubber ball with a spell inscribed on it in the other. “Go.” 

He went. Haiden kicked the door off its hinges, already hurling himself through to tackle the nearby man to the ground. 

In the same moment, Sariel hurled the knife with one hand and the ball with the other. The knife flew straight through the eye of the man in the corner, dropping him an instant before the ball bounced off the wall where he had just been standing. The ball rebounded off that wall, flying toward the remaining guard, who ducked out of the way. 

Then Sariel activated the spell on the ball, teleporting herself to it. She appeared behind the man, a second knife appearing in her hand. She drove it through his ear, triggering the brain-killing shock on the blade before giving his collapsing body a shove over the nearby bed. 

Eight children, none older than ten, sat on the floor of the motel room, staring at her and Haiden as the man rose from the body of his own target. They huddled together, a few already starting to cry, while others rose protectively in front of their frightened friends. 

“It’s okay,” Sariel assured them, making her knife disappear as she took a knee in front of the kids. Her voice was as gentle as she could make it. “It’s alright. Your parents sent us to bring you all home. You’re safe now.” 

As safe as they could be, that was, while being the youngest children of the Three Families, the trio of Akharu, Vestil, and Oni who ran Las Vegas. Their abductors had intended to renew the bloody war that had been put on tentative truce for years now. The vampires had always hated the Vestil, and both hated the Oni. But the vampires and the mages had joined forces against the Asian demons, before one of the Akharu leadership’s sons had fallen for and married one of the Vestil princesses. That locked the local vampires and mages into a somewhat shaky alliance that the Oni didn’t want to risk dealing with. So, all three sides existed in something resembling a truce, controlling different parts of Las Vegas proper, with the strip considered neutral territory. 

With their children gone and all of them blaming each other, the war would have been rekindled. Sariel and Haiden had been hired to find the kids before that happened. 

It was a living. And with their children returned to them, Haiden and Sariel’s anonymity and protection within Vegas would be assured by the Three Families themselves. 

For awhile, at least… they would be safe here. 

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Mini-Interlude 80 – Joselyn and the Codell Tornadoes

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May 20th, 1919

“Boy, this place isn’t looking so good.”

“Let’s have your home get hit by three tornadoes in three years and see how good it looks.”

The first remark came from Roger Dornan, whose small stature and light blond hair were truly at odds with his fiery temper and impulsive attacks. The reply, meanwhile, came from his cousin, Seamus, who looked similar enough to Roger that many thought they were brothers or even fraternal twins. His hair was somewhat darker and he was a couple inches taller. But other than that, the two were quite similar in appearance if not temperament.

They were two of the members of seventeen-year-old Joselyn Atherby’s Crossroads team. Around them were Joselyn herself, her roommate and best friend Lillian Patters, Deveron Adams (whose appearance had been so radically altered several months earlier after he had killed an incubus), and his own roommate and best friend, Tribald Kine. All six wore civilian clothes rather than the school uniforms (with white trim in Tribald’s case, green trim in Roger’s, blue in Lillian’s, red in Joselyn and Deveron’s, and purple in Seamus’s). This was an attempt (hopeless as it was) to not stand out as much around here.

Here, the place being discussed, was the small town that the six of them were slowly walking through. Roger, for all his lack of tact, was actually correct. It really did not look very good. Despite the last tornado striking a year earlier, there was still visible destruction. They had already passed several houses as well as a hotel that had been completely torn apart, and according to their briefing, a church and school had also been ruined, along with more houses. Some of it had been rebuilt, though not all.  

“Seamus is right,” Joselyn noted quietly, watching as a stray dog jogged down the street across from them. “Three tornadoes in three years, always on May 20th. Something’s not right here, and I doubt it’s these peoples’ fault. So keep looking.”

“I’m looking,” Deveron replied, his voice flat. “I’m looking at all the people glaring at us because they think we’re lookie-loos just here to gawk at their town if it gets hit by a tornado again.”

From the other side of the boy, Lillian reached out a hand to pat his back. “Let us know if the bad people giving you dirty looks hurts your feelings, Dev. We’ll make them knock it off.”

Rolling his eyes at the girl’s teasing, Deveron retorted, “My point is that we’re attracting attention. Which is going to make it hard to look around. We kind of stand out.”

“We would anyway,” Tribald pointed out, “no matter what day this was. It’s a small town.”

“So how exactly are we supposed to find out what caused those tornadoes, let alone stop it this time?” Roger demanded through his teeth while flashing an elderly woman staring at them from across the street a bright, toothy smile. He waved at her, and she said something most likely nasty under her breath before going back into her house.

The woman wasn’t representative of the whole town, though there had been more than a few who expressed their clear annoyance at what they thought were, as Deveron had said, curious lookie-loos just there to see if another tornado happened. There were also plenty of those who had been quite friendly about it. And, of course, the ones who were sad.

Those were the worst. While the town had been hit by three tornadoes in as many years, always on the same day, the first two had been much less devastating. Not only had they been smaller, but they had missed hitting the town head-on by going to the east and west of it, respectively. But the one the year earlier had been both much stronger than the first pair, and had gone straight through the town. The first two had only done property damage. The last had not been nearly so lucky, killing ten people.

That was why Joselyn and her teammates were here. Crossroads was incredibly busy, still dealing with the aftermath of the recent Great War among the Bystanders even six months after it had ended. It was an ongoing effort to handle everything, which meant students had to step up, such as now. Looking into the causes of the past three years of tornadoes and (hopefully) stopping it from happening again was considered their ‘hunt’ for this month. And, Lillian had noted before they arrived, was probably also part of their yearly final.

It was also the second hunt after Joselyn had had her… life-changing experience during the werebear situation, and over a month since Gaia Sinclaire had taught her to keep her revelations more quiet rather than shouting them from every rooftop. She had, however, been through all of it with her team. They were her friends, and she would not stand idly by as they unknowingly committed atrocities just because that would be easier.

The conversations had not been easy. Some harder than others. Seamus had actually been the hardest to convince, while Lillian had been the easiest. The others fell somewhere in between. But they all listened eventually, particularly with a little help from Gaia. The woman had also helped to keep Headmaster Ruthers from paying too much attention to Joselyn and her team.

Joselyn still didn’t know what they were going to do, but she knew it was something. No matter what Gaia said about taking things slowly, they still had to actually stop what was happening. Innocent people were being slaughtered by Heretics who didn’t know any better. Someone had to put a stop to that, and Joselyn was damn sure not about to wait for some other person to do it.

That was, however, a problem for later. Right now, they had to figure out this tornado situation.

To that end, Joselyn shook her head at Roger. The six of them had stopped at the end of the largest street in town after giving the whole place a slow walkthrough. “I’m… not sure. I don’t think Professor Konstant knew either. She’s probably just hoping that we’ll stumble into something by blundering around and drawing attention to ourselves.”

“If whatever’s going on is Stranger-based, that’s not a horrible plan,” Tribald admitted. “I mean, considering they have no actual leads or anything. Strangers are probably going to notice a bunch of Heretic students snooping around.”

“This feels entirely too much like being bait,” Roger muttered under his breath. “I don’t like being bait.”

“Nobody does,” Seamus assured his cousin before shaking his head in Joselyn’s direction. “So what do you want to do now, boss? Should we tell Carver we couldn’t find anything?” Alvis Carver was their team’s second-year mentor. Apparently his father, Bentley, had turned down a teaching position at the school three separate times when Headmaster Ruthers had tried to bring him on. None of the students were sure why, and Alvis didn’t talk about it much aside from noting that his father and Ruthers didn’t get along very well.

Now, Joselyn shook her head, murmuring, “Not yet. Maybe they put us out here as bait and maybe they didn’t, but either way, we’re taking it seriously. We’re going to figure this out.”

How, she didn’t know. But it sounded good, and gave her a few seconds to think.

While she was thinking, Roger grumbled, “I bet this was all Ruthers’ idea. He wants us to fail.”

“He wants Joselyn to fail,” Lillian corrected. “The rest of us are just in the crossfire.”

She started to tell her friend that they didn’t blame her for that, when Joselyn interrupted. “We’re not going to fail. We’re going to figure this out and stop it from happening again. First…” She hesitated for just a second before pushing on, shoving her indecision away, “First, we check out one of the places the tornado hit the hardest. We’ll use that magic-tracer spell Seamus was talking about the other day and see if there’s any residual magic from anything that might have drawn the spell that way. Then we’ll go from there. Hopefully that’ll at least tell us something.”

“Yeah,” Deveron agreed, “like if there’s something else drawing a new tornado today.”

Together, the six made their way back through the town, attracting a little more attention. Not as much as they could have though. Most of the people were already holed up inside, trying to wait out the day while hoping their town wouldn’t be the sight of a fourth tornado in as many years. There weren’t that many people still out on the streets. Those that were mostly either gave the group annoyed or sympathetic looks. A few called out that they should get somewhere safe, with varying levels of annoyance or genuine helpfulness.

Eventually, they reached the ruined remains of the hotel that had been destroyed by the previous year’s incident. It was pretty much an empty lot at the moment, with most of the debris taken away to build new things, such as fixing up the also-demolished school. There wasn’t much on the hotel lot aside from the foundation and just enough of the walls to know that there had once been a building there.

Carefully, the group made their way over the ruins. Their gazes moved solemnly across the very few broken bits of debris that still lay scattered through the foundation, taking in the only signs that there had ever been an actual building in this spot. None said anything for a few moments, each simply thinking about just how much power it had taken to rip through this structure and reduce it to what they now saw. And each also thinking about the fact that so many people at Crossroads itself could manage the exact same thing with a flick of their wrist.

Finally, Joselyn cleared her throat. “Um, okay. Let’s spread out and try that magic-tracer spell. Everyone pick a different spot. If it finds anything, we’ll track back along the line.”

They did so, each of them moving to a different spot before using a field-engraver to carefully use create the symbol for the magic-tracer spell. Seamus, as the member of their team both most experienced with that rune and the best with magic overall, took the time to check and make minor corrections to each to make sure the spells were perfect before they were used.

Half of the spells were too far from any residual magical tracings to detect anything, and another barely found a hint, too little to work with. But Deveron’s and Lillian’s each managed to find a single, faint trail. Both of them could see a barely visible line leading out of the remains.

“This way,” Lillian started, waving for the others as she and Deveron slowly made their way back out to the street. The lines they saw were faint enough that it would have been very easy to lose track of them entirely, so they had to move very carefully. The rest of the team followed, staying out of the way and quiet to avoid disturbing the pair while they followed those lines.

They walked for well over an hour like that, all the way out of town. The lines of magic gradually grew more visible to Lillian and Deveron, making it easier to trace them back as they left the road entirely and began walking across an empty field in the middle of nowhere. The flat Kansas terrain meant that it would have been incredibly easy to get lost without any kind of landmark. Yet they kept going, following the gradually strengthening traces of magic.

Eventually, the traces led to a stream. Following the stream, they found a very small hill. The lines of magic seemed to lead directly into that hill. As the group searched around a bit, Roger pushed aside a bush and called to the others. He’d found a small hole, just large enough for one person at a time to squeeze through. Tossing a light stone through revealed a tunnel beyond that sloped downward.

“What now?” Seamus asked, looking to Joselyn. “Do we call it in, or–”

“Let’s check it out,” she decided. “One at a time. I’ll go first. You guys come in after me. Quietly.” She looked to the others until they nodded, then laid down on her stomach before pushing her way in through the hole as quietly and carefully as she could, trying not to make any noise. They had no idea what was in here, but if it was responsible for the tornadoes, there was no sense in warning the thing too openly that they were coming.

Scooting forward enough to get out of the hole and into the tunnel, Joselyn found the space just large enough to somewhat rise in, though she had to remain crouched. She waited there, moving out of the way so the others could come through. One by one, the rest of the team joined her. Once all were ready, they slowly crept down the narrow, sloped tunnel using the light from the enchanted stone to guide their way.

For ten minutes, they moved steadily downward, until the tunnel eventually opened up into a small cavern deep underground. The cave was about thirty feet across, went back about the same distance, with a ceiling of about fifteen feet. In the center there was a small metal circle about six feet across, slightly raised off the ground. It was clearly man-made. Or at least… not natural.

After exchanging brief glances, the group cautiously approached the circle. They took the time to check for more magic, eyes scanning to see if there were runes or anything to indicate traps. Finding none, they stopped at the edge of the metal circle and looked down.

There were words etched into it. Nothing they could read, as the symbols were of foreign or alien nature. But they were definitely actual, deliberate words. They stretched across the metal.

“It’s a memorial.” The announcement came from behind the group, and all of them spun to see a figure standing there in the shadows. As their light stones illuminated him, he stepped more clearly into view, revealing a body made entirely of stone. Their Stranger-senses instantly began to blare its unneeded warning, as the rock-man held up both hands, palms out.

“Heretics, right?” he muttered, seemingly unconcerned about that fact as he stared past them toward the metal circle. “I suppose it’s just as well. Better you do it than me. And at least I’ll be too dead to care.”

Though they had all drawn their weapons, Joselyn quickly put hers out to either side to stop the others from moving. Her gaze was intense as she stared at the stone figure. “Who are you? What do you mean, it’s a memorial? And it’s better we do what than you?”

There was a slight rumble as the stone figure raised part of his brow. “Heretics who ask questions? This is a strange day indeed.”

“We’re strange people,” Lillian informed him, while holding two of her metal bracelets in each hand. “Why don’t you answer them. Are you the one who keeps sending the tornadoes?”

“Am I the one who…” Echoing her words, the stone figure gave a low chuckle that echoed through the cave. “Ahh, if only it were that simple. How much better would this be, were it as simple as killing me to end such attacks.” He paused, seeming to realize that he had said nothing that would count as any sort of answer, before slowly approaching. The group parted, three to each side, while they warily watched him step near the so-called memorial.

He stood there, staring down at it for several seconds in silence. Finally, his words filled the cavern once more. “I am Dorarg. I know not why Heretics wish to know my name, or my story, before killing me, but I will… tell you. I am what my people call Denmiek.” He pronounced the word den-my-eek. “In our language, it means ‘soul of earth.’ Your people call me rock-elemental. There are also others of my world, called Denstarel, Denpien, and Denaksen. Soul of water, soul of fire, and soul of air.”

“Water, fire, and air elementals,” Deveron murmured, glancing to the others before asking, “Is that what those tornadoes were? Air elementals?”

Dorarg was silent for a moment before heaving what seemed like a long, heavy sigh. “Esenadey. She was… Denaksen. Soul of Air. She was… she was my friend. My best friend. We came to this world together. We explored it. We… we had adventures. And she fell in love. She loved a human from this world, a man of the place called Eden’s Garden. A Heretic, though he cared more for healing than for killing.

“They loved one another. They lived for one another. And we had… lives. But those of the Garden learned the truth. They hunted Esenadey and the man, Caladrius. I… I was not there. I could not get to them in time, and both were… were slain by the Caladrius’s brother Heretics. I came too late, discovered their… remains.

“You made this memorial,” Roger realized with the rest of them. “You… buried them here?”

“I’m so sorry,” Joselyn breathed, feeling a sharp pain in the pit of her stomach. “I know it doesn’t mean anything, but… I am. We are.”

Swallowing, Seamus carefully asked, “But… the tornadoes…”

Crouching, Dorarg brushed his fingers over the memorial, tracing the words on it that only he could understand. “I… Esenadey was… with children. Our people, when they… procreate, the eggs are set into our world. They hatch once a year, beginning a year after they are first laid. As each hatches, the child is drawn directly to their mother.”

“They’re drawn here,” Lillian realized. “And they find… they find out their mother is dead.”

“They’re children,” Dorarg murmured, hands running over the metal circle. “They are born with more… understanding than human children, about your equivalent of a nine-year old. But still, children. They come here. They learn that both of their parents are dead and that there is no place for them. In their grief, they… they rage. They flee. They… do what they do not mean to do.”

“They create the tornadoes,” Joselyn started, before amending, “They are the tornadoes.”

“But wouldn’t they be half-human?” Roger pointed out. “If her… if her lover was a Heretic.”

Dorarg’s head shook. “Our people do not procreate like that. It’s more… each parent invests energy, like creating a spell. That energy is used to split off small pieces of the chosen parent, creating eggs which eventually hatch into smaller versions of that adult. Caladrius contributed his magic, a part of himself, but they were physically Denaksen, not human.”

“They’re coming here once a year to find their parents,” Joselyn muttered, “air elementals with the intellect and emotions of a nine year old. They find their parents dead and… and they don’t know what to do.”

“They flee,” Dorarg explained. “They run, they fly, they… lash out. But they are children. Grieving children, but children nonetheless.”

“So you came here to… to try to talk to the next one?” Seamus asked.

The rock man slowly shook his head. “I tried to talk to the last one. It only made things worse. Our people are… long-time enemies. Esenadey and I moved past that, yet her children are too small and too new to these things to understand. They see an enemy. When her child of last year arrived, I attempted to explain things. But… seeing me so soon after finding his parents dead only made him lash out more. When her children come here, they feel her pain. They absorb her last emotions, so they can feel how afraid she was. Between that and seeing me…”

“That’s why last year was worse,” Tribald put in. “Because he saw you and… and fled.”

“He was afraid, and… and grieving,” Dorarg confirmed. “As I said, my appearance only made things worse. So I came here today to end this problem by destroying the bodies. Destroying the remains will prevent Esenadey’s children from finding their parents. It should prevent more destruction. I spent the past year trying to find another way, but… but there is none. Should you wish to kill me after that, I will not stop you. But either allow me to destroy the remains, or… or do so yourselves, to protect the town and prevent any more deaths. Esenadey and Caladrius would want it that way.”

The group exchanged looks, silent conversation passing between them before Joselyn shook her head. “We’re not going to kill you, Dorarg. Listen, it’s a long story, but–”

Before she could say anything else, everyone felt a very faint breeze brush through their hair.

“It’s coming,” Dorarg abruptly blurted. “Her next child. We’re too late. The child is going to come through and–”

“Out,” Joselyn snapped. “Go. If the kid sees you, they’ll just freak out more.” To the others, she added, “You guys too. A bunch of us standing around is just going to make things worse. Go, hurry! Get out, I’ll meet you!”

The others hesitated, aside from Dorarg, who stepped back against the wall and melded into it, disappearing from sight immediately. Deveron and Lillian looked most resistant to leaving Joselyn alone, but were pulled away by the others, eventually going with them.

Left alone in that cavern, Joselyn waited as the wind continued to rise, throwing her short blonde hair around more wildly with each passing second.

Finally, a ghostly figure appeared almost directly in front of her, near the memorial. It looked like a small child of indistinct form, more of an impression on the air with little bits of wind gusting around in every direction around it than a physical body. A moment later they became slightly more definitive, a clearly female figure with a small glowing stone directly in the middle of the form, a stone that pulsed with magical power. This, quite clearly, was the same sort of magic that the group had followed back to this cave. It was one of these stones, the heart of the wind-elemental, that had left the trail.

The wind-girl stopped short, staring down at the memorial. She seemed to take in what was below the ground almost instantly, a sound of confusion and grief escaping her.

“Hey.” It was the only thing Joselyn could think to say, drawing the suddenly terrified girl’s attention, as the wind abruptly picked up with enough force to almost throw her against the wall.

“It’s okay!” Joselyn blurted. “I–Esenadey! Your mother, your mother was Esenadey!”

The wind didn’t stop, though it also didn’t grow any worse. The wind-girl had backed up to stand over the memorial, eyes wide as she stared at Joselyn.

Feeling that pain return, Joselyn quietly murmured, “I’m sorry. I’m sorry about your mother, and what happened to her and your dad. I–”

Before she could say anything else, the wind abruptly redoubled. Suddenly, she was thrown against the wall. A wail of rage and grief filled the small cavern, as the air elemental fled for the exit.

Seeing her go, Joselyn lunged. Her hand lashed out through the powerful winds, catching hold of the stone in the center of the Denaksen child. She held on tight then, allowing herself to be hurled through the tunnel and out of the hole into open air.

Seeing her teammates spread out, each with weapons drawn, Joselyn had time to blurt, “Don’t!” Then she was flying through the air. The Denasken took her fifty feet up, then a hundred, winds already rising. Dirt, rocks, and other random debris were thrown in every direction, while the strength of the gusts nearly threw Joselyn to the ground. Still, she clung tight to the rock, the literal heart of the tornado.

“Please!” Joselyn cried out, “don’t! I know you’re scared and I know you’re sad, but your parents wouldn’t want this! What happened to them was terrible, and wrong! It was wrong! But you can’t make things better by hurting people! I know what you’re feeling. I know it hurts! You don’t want to make other people feel that way! You don’t want to take their mothers and fathers away!”

Through all of that, the winds were getting stronger. The tornado was forming, and already it was very apparent that this would be worse than all of the others.

Using both hands to cling to the glowing, warm stone as her body was violently thrown around by the wind, Joselyn closed her eyes tightly before opening them once more. There were tears in them. “I know you feel like you’re alone. I know you feel like you have nowhere to go, and no one who cares about you. I know you feel betrayed and lost. I know you feel like there’s no one to help you, no one to teach you who you are, or who you could be.”

She paused then, glancing down. They were several hundred feet up by that point, the ground looming far below. Still, the girl pushed on, even as the winds threatened to tear her from the stone she was clinging to. “So I’m going to teach you! I’m going to teach you who you are! You want to know who you can be?! You can be the one who destroys a town full of people who didn’t do anything to you! You can be the one who lets your grief and your anger control you!

“Or you can be the one who saves my life.”

With those words, Joselyn released her grip on the stone. The winds instantly flung her away, sending the girl flying end over end through the air before she tumbled out of the tornado. She was falling, plummeting toward the ground while the sound of her friends screaming reached her ears.

Then… the falling stopped. The wind had returned, as Joselyn found herself floating in the air, the air elemental’s form directly in front of her. There was still profound loss and grief in those eyes, as the girl stared at her. They floated in silence like that, slowly sinking to the ground before the wind finally faded.

“This is who you are,” Joselyn quietly managed. “This is who your parents would have wanted you to be.”

Finally, the small, insubstantial girl spoke through the wind. It had the effect of making her voice sound as though it was coming from everywhere at once. “Mother… Father…”

“I know.” Joselyn’s own voice was quiet, strained from emotion. “I know. It’s not fair. It’s not. But you’re not alone. There’s someone here for you, someone who can help take care of you. Do… do you trust me?”

There was a brief hesitation before the Denaksen slowly nodded. The glowing stone that was her heart moved up and out toward Joselyn, as though indicating her level of trust by exposing herself.

Very slowly, Joselyn reached out, putting her hand against the stone. She felt the wind gently rush over her, almost like an embrace.

“You’re not alone,” she repeated. “You never have to be alone. I’ll be there whenever you need me. I’ll come, I promise. But I can’t raise you. I can’t teach you. Not the way you need. For that… for that you need him.”

She turned then, raising a hand to point a bit into the distance, to where Dorarg stood. Seeing the earth-elemental, the wind-child jerked back reflexively. But Joselyn quickly spoke up. “It’s okay. It’s alright. He’s a friend. He’s a friend of your parents.”

The girl was clearly still skittish, yet she stood still while Dorarg slowly approached. Together, wind and earth elemental stood facing one another. They seemed to communicate without words for a moment, before Dorarg looked to Joselyn. “She needs a name.”

It was a request that made Joselyn rock backward a bit. “A… a name? You want me to…? I… umm…” She paused, then looked at the distortion in the air that was the wind child. “… Fiona. That was the name of my–of the woman who adopted me. My mother. Fiona.”

From the way the air elemental brushed over her face and hair, Joselyn assumed she approved of the name.

She was just going to have to be very careful from now on not to laugh too much every time Papa Dustin said his wife was full of hot air.

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Mini-Interlude 45 – Joselyn

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The following is a commissioned mini-interlude focusing on the specific event during Joselyn’s first year as a student at Crossroads that turned her from loyal Heretic to budding rebellion instigator and leader. I hope you enjoy. 

Sunday, March 2nd, 1919

“We’re clear on the north end. How’s it look where you are, Jos?”

The voice of Joselyn Atherby’s teammate came through the badge that had been pinned to the front of her school uniform. It was loud and clear to her, yet somehow no one else could possibly hear it, no matter how close they were standing.

Not that anyone else was close to the blonde, short-haired teenager at that point. The girl crouched on the roof of the drugstore, hidden in shadows while she watched people and automobiles alike trundling by. After scanning the alley below her for a moment, she spoke up. “We’re jake over here, Tribald. Alley’s clear. No one’s getting out this way. Dev, you still got the bear in sight?”

There was a brief pause before Deveron responded. “Well, she’s not a bear right now. But yeah, she’s inside the left-most apartment. Lillian, you finished with your bit yet?”

Again, silence reigned for a few seconds before the voice of Joselyn’s roommate came back. “All set. Magical boundary should keep anyone from walking by this way or hearing anything.”

“Can we do this already?” Roger Dornan, another teammate, demanded with obvious annoyance. “It’s one werebear and there’s six of us. We can handle her.”

“Take it easy, Rog,” the other boy’s roommate and cousin, Seamus, scolded him. “Remember, we don’t want to screw this up. Unless you want a failing grade for this hunt.”

Roger retorted immediately, “We could get a failing grade for taking too long too. The alley’s clear, no one’s coming to investigate, and Deveron’s got the Stranger in sight. Let’s do it.”

“Jos?” That was Deveron again. “What do you think? Time to move?”

Leaning over the edge of the roof to look down one more time, making absolutely certain everything was clear, Joselyn finally nodded to herself while replying, “Rog is right, we can’t sit around second-guessing ourselves all night. Time to stop that bear before she attacks anyone else. You guys know the plan. Deveron first, make all the noise, draw her attention. Roger and Seamus hit her when she comes out. Tribald and Lillian hit her once she’s engaged with those two. I’ll cover things here if she tries to retreat.”

The acknowledgments came quickly. And almost as quickly came the sounds of the attack. Deveron, being loud and obvious as he broke down the door of the apartment building behind the drugstore that Joselyn was perched atop. A second later, there was a loud roar that made Joselyn shiver, despite the fact that she had been ready for it.

“Be careful, Dev,” she whispered to herself without engaging the badge radio.

Thankfully, Seamus and Roger joined in right away. For once, Joselyn was grateful for the latter’s impulsiveness. It meant that Deveron wasn’t left alone with the monster for that long.

Thirty seconds passed. Thirty horribly long seconds. Joselyn was regretting putting herself on back-up duty. But it had been the best choice, the best use of everyone. She knelt there, listening to the sounds of Tribald and Lillian finally getting involved. Five Heretic students versus one werebear. They could handle it, right?

She wished she was there.

The sound of a door squeaking nearby interrupted her inner lamentations, and Joselyn turned quickly to see the back entrance of the apartment building opening. As she watched with confusion, a woman stepped out, looking both ways. As soon as she saw her, Joselyn’s Heretic-sense began to scream its warnings. Apparently there were more Strangers inside the apartment building than they’d thought.

Just as Joselyn started to gather herself to stop the Stranger from escaping, pulling her Hunga Munga from their spot on her belt, the woman turned and began gesturing frantically for someone else to come out.

And come they did. Eight figures hurried through the doorway and into the small courtyard between the apartment building and the alley. Eight children, some of them tiny little things, ranging from what looked like four years old to around ten. All of them were Strangers, not human. And all had tears in their eyes. A couple were outright sobbing.

“Kaya, Kaya, is it the Moffy guys?” One of the youngest, a tiny, blue-skinned girl with white hair tugged at the older woman’s leg. “Is it the Moffy guys?”

“Mafia, Limny,” one of the older boys corrected her. He was sniffling, clearly trying to be brave. “You mean Mafia. And nuh uh, it’s the Heretics.”

That caused a loud gasp to go up among the children, and the crying intensified. The older woman turned back, obviously fighting back her own fear. “Don’t scare them, Puck. Limnoreia, it’s going to be okay.” She put a hand on the tiny blue-skinned girl’s shoulder, squeezing it briefly before another loud roar from inside made her jump. “Come on, let’s go. Hurry, children.”

“Will Aunt Callisto be okay?” one of the other little ones asked, even as a terrifyingly loud bang came that shook the entire apartment building.

For a moment, the woman, Kaya apparently, looked like she was going to answer. In the end, with a worried look over her shoulder, she just urged them on with her hands. “Come, she’ll meet us later. Hurry, hurry.”

It was time to stop them. Time to drop down and get in their way so this could all be mopped up. So that the… the monsters… could be… so that the monsters could be… so that the monsters…

Joselyn stayed where she was, watching as the woman and eight very different children rushed by below her. None looked up. None noticed her there. They ran, they fled for their lives.

They weren’t putting on a show. They had no idea she was there. They weren’t faking.  They had no reason to, no way of knowing that they should pretend. They weren’t pretending. They were… they had been… terrified. Terrified… of… of Heretics.

She was still there, staring at the spot where the children had been as three more figures came into view. They were moving from the street, through the alley and to the apartment building. As they emerged, Joselyn’s Heretic-sense went off once more, for two of the figures. It was silent for the third.

“Ya morons!” the shorter, fatter man, the only one who didn’t set off Joselyn’s warning sense, smacked one of the others. “I told you we was gonna be late! Now look.” He waved a hand to the open doorway ahead of them. “They’re already gone!”

“Don’t you worry none, boss,” one of the other men announced. “Those kids smell something fierce. Olly and me, we can track ‘em down.”

The boss turned, jabbing a finger into the man’s chest. “You better. I paid good money, good money, to get that ursine bitch’s location into Heretic hands. She wants to stand in my way, in Leo Torrio’s way and stop me from getting my hands on what’s mine? Those kids are worth a fortune, a fucking fortune. Now those Heretics are getting rid of my problem, but the kids ain’t fucking here, cuz you stupid dewdroppers couldn’t get a fucking move-on! Now get those kids! Go!”

The Mafia, Joselyn realized, the ones that the little blue girl… Limnoreia had mentioned. The ones that they had been afraid of… the ones that the werebear had been… had been… protecting… them… from…

Before she knew what she was doing, Joselyn was already moving. Leaping from the roof of the drug store, she threw one of her Hunga Munga. A thought stopped it in the air just above the ground at the entrance into the alley, and she teleported herself straight to it.

There. The Mafia men were just leaving the alley. But she could pull them back in. It wouldn’t be hard. She’d distract them, make them think the children were here after all, and then–

A hand caught her shoulder. As she spun, weapons up, Deveron took a step back, holding his hands out. “Whoa, whoa, hey. You okay?” The boy was panting heavily, but grinning. “Annoyed you didn’t get in on the action?”

“Action?” Even to herself, Joselyn sounded out of it, distracted, confused.

“We’re all good, Jos. It’s over.” Still panting from exertion, Deveron continued to her that broad smile. “Bear’s down. We saved the day. Huge heroes.”

“Bear… the bear… you… you killed the werebear?” The words sounded and felt like they were coming from someone else, some other person far away.

“Uh, yeah? You know, our job? Woohoo?” Deveron squinted at her. “Are you okay? You’re not seriously sore that you didn’t get to fight, are you? She just went down sooner than we expected. Took most of that apartment with her too, you should see it. Lillian got the last hit, lucky girl. Don’t worry though, I’m sure you’ll get the next one. I mean, if that’s what you’re upset about. Jos?”

“I… I have to…” Joselyn took a step back, half-turning to look over her shoulder at the alley, back the way the Mafia had gone on their way to follow those children, the… the Stranger children… the… innocent… Stranger children.

A glowing blue portal appeared directly beside them, and a woman stepped out. Freidra Konstant, one of their professors.

“Excellent work, children,” she announced with clear pride. “The target has been eliminated and none of you were seriously harmed. Good show. Come, let us collect the others and then prepare to receive your score.”

Deveron moved that way, almost stepping through the portal before looking back to where Joselyn was still standing. “Jos? Hey, what’s–”

He said something else, but she didn’t hear him. Her attention was on the alley once more, even as her eyes slid closed. Deveron’s voice faded to background noise, as the memory of the children crying, that innocent little girl asking if the Moffy had come for them, and the Mafia man himself saying that he had deliberately leaked the werebear’s location so that the Heretics would kill her to get her out of the way so that he could take those children all flooded into her mind at once. Their voices in her memory were overpowering, so loud as they competed with one another for prominence. Deafening. Their voices were completely deafening. Almost as loud as the sound of her own heartbeat. Her own heart, pounding, thudding, thundering there in the alley. Couldn’t they hear it? Couldn’t they all hear it?

Miss Atherby!” Professor Konstant bodily turned her around, holding onto her shoulders. “Open your eyes. Look at me. Are you quite all right? What–did something happen to you?”

Slowly, Joselyn Atherby’s eyes opened.

And in a way… they would never close again.

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