False Moves – 12.8
Author: Wildbow

False Moves – 12.8 | Pale

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Avery crouched on the rooftop, looking past the sea of smiling faces, to the Witch Hunters, who were sorting themselves out, immunizing people against Jabber somehow.  Musser’s car was left where it was, two car doors, one tire, and one side of the front in ruins.  The hood had even popped up.

The woman with the motorcycle finished talking to the others, pulled her helmet on, put visor down, and then peeled out, cutting across stopped traffic, through a fast food parking lot, and over a grass divider to get to the next road over.  The rest gathered near Musser’s car.

The one with shaggy blonde hair, a hood built into her sleeveless tee, and cargo pants tossed something into the car.  A fire started immediately.  She took a bottle of water from the youngest member of the group, barely any older than Avery was, and poured it over her hair and face, drenching herself.  With a hand, she rubbed at her face, then pushed wet hair back and away, before tugging the hood into position over it.  It sat awkwardly.

The teenager that was about Zed’s age, muscular in more of a lifts-weights type way, with short black hair, went back to the car, put away the medical stuff, and then grabbed his bloody heart off the dash.  He squeezed it out onto the ground, and as far as Avery could see, the gunk that came out was black.

Then he pulled his shirt up and stuffed it into the roughly circular bloody ruin where his chest was, before pulling some metal down and adjusting straps.

Riiiiight.

“Any ideas on that, Snow?” Avery asked.

Snow sneezed.

There was a blonde girl who gave Avery Fernanda vibes, but was closer to Nicolette or Zed in age, who hung close to the heart guy and leaned against the front of one of the witch hunter’s cars.  She didn’t even flinch as he did the heart thing.  A mid-teens guy with chin scruff and a male about Avery’s age who hung out by him.

Last and certainly not least was the older guy with a dense white beard and shoulders as broad as anyone she’d seen.  He wasn’t fat or even a bodybuilder sort of muscular, but was instead built like someone who’d been built wiry and lanky and then put two hundred percent into the muscles he did have.  He dressed in a black shirt and jeans, but he didn’t look heavy metal- the hair and beard looked a bit more Amish.  Even from a block away, she could see the veins on hairy arms as he heaved that massive gun around, sliding it back into the back of the car he’d ridden in on.  It was so long it looked like it had to run all the way up to the dashboard, down the middle of the vehicle, with the end sitting in the trunk.

They didn’t even seem to care about the people around them, who were smiling and quietly giggling to themselves  That little patch of Kennet had stopped entirely, and people who were going about their business and who got close to that area were succumbing to the effect.  It created a kind of border, a higher density to the number of people at the edges, as they gathered, or looked to see what was going on and then fell victim to the giggling fits.

When he straightened, hand at his back, stretching a bit, he turned his head.

The older guy looked at her.

She was far enough away she couldn’t make out his eyes, but just like Raph, this was a guy who could find them.  With a gun like that, she wasn’t sure she could even dodge if he decided to carry that gun, point it in her direction, and pull the trigger.

She made sure Snowdrop was securely on her shoulder, then black-roped her way away, jumping down out of sight, and landing in a crouch a half-block away.  Lucy turned her head to look at her as she approached.  Guilherme stood by, wearing the form of an older man, gray in his hair.  He looked like the sort of guy who’d be an old master, which made John, next to him, look relatively young by comparison.  Toadswallow, Nat, and Gashwad were in the window of the abandoned shop just behind them, eyes and noses visible as they peered through.

Zed, Brie, and Jessica were gathered, hanging back a little as they discussed.

“Were you part of that?” Avery asked Guilherme.

“I was,” Guilherme replied.  “Unfortunately.”

“Unfortunate?  Whatever you did worked great, from what I can tell.”

“What I did, unfortunately, did not work great,” Guilherme said.

“He’s pissy about it,” Lucy noted.

“Faerie do not get pissy in the way you’re implying, Lucille Ellingson,” Guilherme replied.

“Call me Lucy.  I’ve told you that.”

“It didn’t work?” Avery asked.

Verona shook her head.

“I planned something more elegant.  Imagine you offer your hand to a dance partner and they use the momentum of the dance’s turn to fling themselves through a window, cutting themselves and the bystanders to ribbons.”

“The metaphor’s a bit lost on me, Guilherme,” Avery said.  “I can’t really dance.”

Verona perked up.  “I can dance, apparently.  Melissa got on my case about joining up with the Dancers.  Mostly improv, throw in a well-timed shimmy, or confident chest-pop as the song goes off…”

“Don’t- don’t demonstrate,” Guilherme said, as Verona demonstrated.  “You’ve demonstrated.  I’m starting to envy Musser’s car the bullets.”

John clapped a hand on Guilherme’s back.

“The old guy looked at me and Snow,” Avery told the others, to change the topic.

“That’s Haris.  We called him the old dog of the group,” Lucy said.  “He has a really sharp sense of smell, and he was paying close attention to what Musser’s group was saying despite them being across the parking lot, he didn’t even seem to accept it was weird that he heard that sharply.”

“No relation to my kind of dog,” John commented.

“Right, yeah,” Lucy said.

“The woman with the motorcycle headed off in Raquel’s direction,” Avery said.

“Raquel might be the most reasonable member of that group,” Zed commented, joining the conversation.  “Wye is biased and wants to resolve the Alexander thing, Musser isn’t likely to budge, and Reid follows too closely after his dad.”

“From my observation, the one on the motorcycle doesn’t fit the group.  She’s an ally of theirs, they know her from passing meetings, but she isn’t a bosom companion.  She double checked her bag one more time than your typical person would.  That suggests it’s valuable.  That she checked it before pursuing a target and not when she’d just been affected by Jabber suggests it’s not valuable for valuable’s sake, it’s something she uses in the field.”

“She’s armed.  Just say she’s armed, Guilherme,” Toadswallow croaked.

“She has something at her disposal, possibly several somethings, from the shape of the bag.  It isn’t necessarily a weapon.”

“Should we go help Raquel?” Avery asked.  “Or talk to her?”

“Can we get a quick rundown first?” Lucy asked.  “Who else… the old guy?”

Guilherme answered.  “Haris assumes seniority and leadership by default, but the girl with the hood-”

“Elise,” Lucy cut in.

“-is supposed to have it by right.  If I were you, and if I were not interested in developing my skills as a fighter, or if there were no greater agenda-”

“Get on with it, Guilherme,” John said.

Guilherme gave John an unimpressed look.  “-I wouldn’t want to fight her.  She moves with an easy confidence around those bigger and stronger than her.”

“I saw something like that,” John said.  “The girl part of her and that dangerous fighter part of her don’t mesh well.”

“I would not be surprised if she has a very steep cliff she descends when she’s in the heat of battle,” Guilherme said.

“That’s a bad combination with Musser and his group,” Zed said.

“Who else?” Avery asked.  “There was the teenager, muscular.”

“Clint,” Lucy said.  “He broke free of Jabber’s effect.”

“Tore his own heart out,” Avery said.  “Squeezed it clear of Jabber-gunk or something after.”

“Oh, hey, wow,” Verona said.

“Right?” Avery asked.  “Gross as heck.  What’s even going on there?”

“Cool as heck, you mean?” Verona asked, nudging Avery.

“Sometimes Witch Hunters are broken by whatever introduces them to this world, and they stay broken on purpose,” John said.

“Got it,” Lucy said, frowning.

“Bwaaargle!” Jabber piped up, from inside the building with the goblins.

“Three other Witch Hunters.  Blonde with shorter hair-”

“Rocky,” Lucy said.

“Mid-teens guy with chin scruff-”

“Renfroe.”

“And a kid our age.”

“Francis.”

“Little Francis has dealt with something Faerie-adjacent,” Guilherme said.

“Like Daniel or Shellie?”

“No.  Not actual Fae, I’m fairly sure.  Too raw, he’s too graceless.  From what has been described to me, Shellie Alitzer had her own brand of grace and calculated gracelessness.”

“I think we should go to Raquel,” Avery said.

“Should you?” Zed asked.  “Sorry, I’m trying to get to grips with this.  You set them against one another.  Isn’t that the plan?”

“At the very least, we protect civilians,” Lucy said.

“That’s fine, that’s tricky, but it’s fine.  But you said you wanted to help Raquel?”

“I asked if we should,” Avery said.

“I don’t think it hurts to open the door to conversation, but Raquel collects these tools like grails, emblems, and instruments.  A lot of that adds up to her being slippery,” Zed said.  “Slippery could mean you end up in the Witch Hunter’s way while she runs for it.”

“She’s expecting you to be around, too,” Jessica added.

“I’m wondering,” Zed pressed, jumping in to say something before anyone else could change the subject.  “What’s the plan?  What do you want to do?  What do you need us to do?”

“Protect civilians, limit damage, discourage Musser enough he goes home…” Lucy went down the list.

“I think that might be hard,” Jessica noted.

“Maybe.  But that’s where we’re at.  We’ve gotta handle a bunch of stuff before summer ends, this is in the way, if they can tie each other up some…”

“Let’s narrow it down, I hope I’m not coming across as aggressive,” Zed said.  “But what’s the plan for today?”

“Keep tabs on things without the Witch Hunters coming for us…” Avery said.

“Good, okay, that’s workable.”

“…limit the damage if things start getting out of control.  Jabber should be useful…”

“Alright.  They’re starting to counteract Jabber.  Musser’s immune, the Witch Hunters have some chemical they’re using now.”

“Yeah,” Avery said.

“…Shrines,” Verona said.  “Family.  Like, if we’re listing off stuff that’s necessary.  We need to eat dinner in a few hours.”

“Shrines?” Jessica asked.

“Uhhh, we did a bunch at the edge of town.  Just to address spirits and echoes.”

“Using shrines to influence echoes is like trying to build a fence to keep birds out of your yard,” Jessica said.  “It’s doable, but probably an unrealistic degree of effort.”

“Huh,” Avery said.

“Jessica knows some stuff from camping out in the Ruins.  She handled the wards and protections while we were fighting the Choir,” Zed explained.

“Can we talk to you about stuff later?” Verona asked.

“If that’s how I can be useful.  I don’t think it’s a priority right now, is it?”

“If you’re sticking around any then you’ll see where we’re at echo-wise, later,” Verona said.  “Ummmm… priority.  Witch Hunters, Musser.”

“I’ll contact Nicolette about giving us eyes on what’s going on and keeping track,” Zed said.  “That might take time to set up.”

“Oh!  Tell her I’ll send her the file later,” Verona said.

“Are you going to send her the file later?  I don’t want to get gainsaid.”

“I’m already gainsaid,” Verona replied.  “I’ll- I’ve gotta figure out the places I’m useful, so I’ll stick around here and help Zed, Brie, and Jessica.  I can give them the info and communicate with the locals.”

Toadswallow, settling his chin on the windowsill, so it sort of pooled out below his face, fingers gripping the edge as he looked over, croaked out, “It would be appreciated if your guests informed us about any moderate to major practices they wanted to undertake.”

“It’s really appreciated that you’re here,” Avery said.

“Very much so,” Toadswallow said.  “But decorum must be observed.”

“How do you and I split this up?” Lucy asked Avery.

“I’ll go to Raquel.”

“Then I’ll keep an eye on Musser and what the bigger conflict is like.”

Avery nodded.  That made sense.

“What’s the logic?” Zed asked.

Was there logic?  Avery looked at Lucy, and it just felt right, like they each had a place they had to be and a rhythm they moved at and it made sense that Raquel would be hard to pin down, the witch hunter was on a motorcycle, so Avery could do that, while Lucy could handle herself in a Musser-Hunter situation.  This was a sports team situation, with everyone having a natural role.  But actually having to stop and explain why Hansen was on defense on Ottawa’s team was… ugh.  Putting that into good words?

Lucy and Avery paused, and Verona didn’t volunteer anything.

Avery was first to answer.  “Maybe Raquel is slippery and maybe that’s a problem with the Witch Hunter and how she picks targets, but I’m fast.”

“Faster than a motorcycle?” Brie asked.  “I remember you running after the bull during that night with the Choir, but…”

“I’m fast,” Avery said, confident, fingers grazing a place she’d put a checkmark on her leg.  “I’m hoping I can get Raquel to listen, or to tell us something about Musser.”

“If we’re in this for the long haul and you can get away with being out late more than we can, while we’re grounded, maybe plan a break?” Verona suggested.  “We can do shifts.”

“We’ll figure that out after,” Lucy said.  “Regroup for dinner, touch base?”

“If we can,” Verona said.

Avery nodded with emphasis, eager to get going at this point.  She might not be especially fond or unfond of Raquel, but she wanted to see if they could establish that line of communication.

“You can go,” John said.  John got it.  “No need to work this out further, just stay safe.  Avery?  You have the tags?”

Avery nodded.

“Here!” Toadswallow said.  The position of the window and his height meant he was only barely able to peer over the edge, but he stuck his hand up and held a can out the window.  John took it and passed it to Avery.  “Goblins in a can.  Throw it into a dank, dark, or dirty place, the worse it is, the better the results.  They should listen.”

Avery nodded again, bouncing a bit, ready to go.

“We’ll back you up where we can,” Zed said.  “Keep your phone on.”

Avery nodded.  She looked down at Snowdrop, who sneezed.

“Go,” John said.

Avery ran.

“I overheard Musser telling Raquel to look into house or apartment rentals and cabin rentals!  Be careful of whatever it is she has in that bag!” Lucy hollered, raising her voice as Avery got further along.  “Let us know early if you need Jabber!”

Avery twisted around, running backwards, and gave the thumbs up, before turning, ducking around a couple she’d nearly bumped into, both under the influence of Jabber.

She looked for the connections, and the fact Jabber was effectively blocking the connections between people by making his victims unable to think made the coast a lot clearer.  Avery knew the direction Raquel had gone, and had a sense of the type of destination.

She cut diagonally across downtown, in the general direction of that valley below Bowdler, where the other Witch Hunter had set his traps, where Edith had had her cabin, and where the initial influx of wraiths and spirits had come in.

That valley was too open an area, landscape and everything else funneling stuff in.  It was far enough away from society and innocents that a lot of protections didn’t hold, so stuff happened there more easily, but it was still accessible as a place that people from the outside or people from Kennet could go.

As Avery black roped around, moving carefully because there were a lot of people around, Snowdrop hopped down, assuming human form, hair pulled back into a ponytail, headphones with the black ears built into them on, dark circles around dark eyes, teeth a little uneven.  Snowdrop’s shirt read ‘Fake your own death, live in hiding behind a dumpster, profit?’

“You okay?” Avery asked.

“It’s nice on a hot day like this, snuggling close, sharing the extra body heat.  Cozy,” Snowdrop said.

Avery brushed her shoulder off, where Snowdrop had been, and the shirt was damp with sweat.  Coarse gray hairs stuck to her hand.  She dusted them off as best as she could.

“Gotta figure out where Raquel might’ve gone.  Let’s assume she used her phone…” Avery thought aloud.

“You’re on your own if someone attacks you from behind, you know.  I’m a coward like that.”

“Thanks, Snow,” Avery said.  She forced herself to relax a bit, and tried to open the way to the familiar bond.  This was something she was just starting to work on, after they’d talked options for the dream and the idea of trying to communicate by way of their bond with one of them asleep.  It had let her keep tabs on Charles while she and Charles were asleep.

She could sense Snowdrop looking out for trouble, in a way that was more nervous than Avery’s typical approach, head a little jerky, eyes darting around, switching between senses.  Little things grabbed at Snowdrop’s focus, even though Avery didn’t get more than a dull impression about what those things might be, like blobs of color behind foggy glass, viewed through squinting eyes.  Something familiar-ish and moving.  Something interesting.  Something that took a moment to understand and bring into more focus.

A hunger pang that wasn’t Avery’s.

Still typing her way through her phone with her thumb, Avery shrugged off her bag, bent down, and reached inside the front flap.  She absently handed Snowdrop a quarter-sandwich.

“You’re such a loser sometimes,” Snowdrop said.  “Hitching me to you and dragging me around.  You think I want a tiny bit of sandwich?”

“Yes.”

“Well, I don’t!” Snowdrop said, before biting into the bread.

There was a cabin rental office not far from here.  Perfect place to check.  The web search on her phone showed a photo that she recognized as the end of the strip mall at the bottom corner of downtown.

Snowdrop wasn’t even looking in her direction, but as she started moving, glancing back, Snowdrop sensed where she was going and followed without needing a prompt.

There were parts of all of this that were so great.  Being a part of a team like this was what drove her to sports like hockey and soccer, or at least, drove her there when things were good.  Like being a part of something bigger in a smaller, contained arena.  That was a good part about the practice, and about being part of the trio.

Which made the rest of it, in sports and in practice both just… heartbreaking, sometimes.

She didn’t know what she was going to do.  Or her head knew, but her heart wasn’t all the way there.

Had Olivia felt like this before going to Swanson?  Abandoning the combined Kennet-Tripoli group?  Abandoning her best friend?

Except Olivia had gone to something, and Avery was…

…getting distracted.

She saw Raquel leave the little box-shaped store that was tacked onto the end of the strip mall.  Raquel watched her, wary, circling around the side of the building, backing toward the valley.

Raquel was slender, wore a nice shirt with tights worn as pants, her long brown hair styled with loose wavy ringlets and coils.  She was about the same age as Avery, Verona, and Lucy, but the way she dressed and held herself made her seem a touch older.

“Can we talk!?” Avery called out, as she crossed the street, calling out from sidewalk, across parking lot.

“I’m just running errands, I don’t know what you want to talk about, but- just leave me alone!”

Avery held her hands up as she approached, Snowdrop doing much the same.

The store employee stepped out the front door.  She was a frumpy middle-aged woman who looked like the summer heat was really disagreeing with her.  She spotted Raquel.  “Did you want to keep going?  I’d need to call your dad.”

“Uncle, and maybe later,” Raquel said, frowning.

“Is there a problem?”

“I’m not sure yet.”

“I just want to talk,” Avery said.

“Go inside?  Let us talk?” Raquel asked the woman.  “I’ll call my uncle after, get permission, get him to finalize the paperwork by phone, if I can.”

The woman frowned, looking annoyed.  Red faced and squinting, she seemed to decide it wasn’t worth pressing, and went back into the dark office.  As Avery and Snowdrop approached, Avery could see the interior through the glass.  There were four or five desks, and lots of posters on the wall, that made the place feel like a travel agency or something, but the posters were for Kennet and skiing.  The woman was the only apparent employee working in the off-season.

“Did you call the Witch Hunters?”

“We were holding them off and we kinda just… stopped,” Avery said.

“Reid said they opened fire.”

“Yeah.  One of them went after you.  We kind of expected to find you in the middle of dealing with her.”

Raquel shook her head.

“Hear any motorcycles?”

“No,” Raquel said.  “What the heck is wrong with this place?  What’s wrong with all of you?  I’ve got- this freaking-”

Raquel reached into the handbag she carried, and lifted out something that looked like a goblet, but it was narrow and tall, with lots of decorative metal at the rim of the glass and down the stem.

Raquel swirled it, and it became apparent there was water inside, even though it had been horizontal a moment ago.  The swirling liquid darkened and took on a particular color.  Red.

“Wine?” Avery asked.

Snowdrop sniffed, and Avery became aware of that impression, which wasn’t very fruity.

“Blood,” Avery changed her mind, saying the word as Raquel did.

Raquel emptied the thick, congealing liquid onto the empty parking lot.  It dissipated more quickly than blood should have.

“I repeat,” Raquel added.  “What’s up with this place?  If you answer, maybe my uncle will end his little investigation early.”

“Do you really think he will?” Avery asked.  “Because I think he wants a win or something.”

“Probably,” Raquel said.  “But I think it’s really easy to underestimate my uncle, and you don’t have as many options as you think you do.”

“Can you explain that?” Avery asked.  “Because I’m willing to hear you out if you’re willing to hear me out.”

“My uncle asked me to look after some stuff, which I’m guessing you know if you’re here and you saw me in there.  I’ve got to do that.”

“Want help?”

“Do you really think my uncle would be okay with that?  Do you think he’d be clapping me on the back and saying good job, Raquel, working with those dangerous, incompetent little practitioners to finish your errands?”

“I don’t think your uncle would be okay with much you do,” Avery said, then seeing Raquel’s expression change, hurried to add, “because he’s a twit, not because you’re doing a bad job.”

“And who are you to level judgement at me or my uncle, Kelly?  What are you even doing here?  What is this place?”

“I think your uncle figured it out, and John, the soldier, he told him a lot of it.  Things are out of balance but they should resolve at the end of summer, somehow.”

“You’re keeping the company of strange Others, you’re living in this blood-soaked place, you’re getting into trouble, destroying Bristow and apparently murdering Alexander.”

“Technically we didn’t.  That was the local Other.”

“Who you count as a friend?  As a reliable source?”

“Kinda, yeah.”

Raquel narrowed her eyes.  “I’ve got to- I need to do this.  I have to run this errand.  If I do a bad job or if I’m too slow, I’ll lose months worth of building my esteem in this family.”

“Just like that?”

Almost disgusted, Raquel replied, “Yeah.  Just like that.  Do you even know what the Blue Heron meant to me?  Do you even know how rare it is that I get a break?  A chance to pursue my own interests?  Hang out with friends?  To study stuff that isn’t from the family library, available only if a senior family member signs off on it, and only if Reid doesn’t need it, or if Reid or one of my other cousins might want it at some point in the future?  A lot of the time, that’s my only chance, do you get it?  My only chance to find a trick, or to have an answer that I’ve figured out myself that they don’t already know because they already read those same books first!”

“That sounds miserable.  I- my experience isn’t anything close to that, but the stuff I deal with is sorta in that same category, and that’s crushing enough, it-”

“Don’t try to relate to me, Kelly.  You guys were front and center of that all going to hell, and now my uncle is headmaster.  Do you think I get unrestricted access to the library anymore?”

“Shit,” Avery whispered.

“Or my friends?” Raquel asked.

“We didn’t want that,” Avery replied.

“You don’t know this world, Kelly,” Raquel said, intense, bitterness oozing into the words.  “You’re new to this, you’re getting skewed perspectives, you’re playing in this blood-soaked pigpen with some clearly dangerous Others, and interfering in things you don’t understand.  I’ve lived this shit since I was little.  I don’t think you even had an inkling about this world when I was dealing with my mom being disappeared one night, because she developed an independent streak.  You need to shut your mouth, put the magic stuff away, and leave this alone until you can get a better education on how this world really works.  Or put it away and go away for good, ideally.”

“I don’t think I’m in a position to do that,” Avery said.

“She could get rid of me,” Snowdrop said.

Raquel’s words came at low volume but with heat behind them, “You and your friends are everything that’s wrong with the practice in the modern day.”

“I- don’t see how that could be true,” Avery replied.

“You’re destabilizing when we need stability and when we draw power from stability.  You’re empowering the wrong Others, you’re trying to stand in the way of someone like my uncle fixing this bloody mess of a town by claiming priority, you’re clearly ignorant of how our society works and why it’s set up like this.  Powerful plus ignorant is disaster in this world, Kelly.”

“Can you at least call me by my actual name?  I- I said I’d try to hear you out and I will but… hi, I’m Avery.  Kelly is my last name.”

“You can call me anything but Snowdrop,” Snowdrop said.

“We’re not on a first name basis,” Raquel said.

“So I’m supposed to call you, what, Musser?  You want that, with the way they treat you?”

“Yeah,” Raquel said, quieter now, with gravity behind the words.  “I want to be called a Musser.”

“That’s…” Avery trailed off.  She looked at Snowdrop for help.  Snowdrop shrugged.  “…tricky.  I don’t think I can wrap my head around that.  Couldn’t you go hunt for your mom?  Track her down?”

“Would you give up everything you know?  The places you’re used to, your room, family, the friends you at least get to see once in a while, when stupid parental restrictions or practitioner responsibilities aren’t getting in the way?”

Avery took a deep breath, then sighed.

There was an answer she could give, but she was ninety-five percent sure it wouldn’t help anything.

“I’ve got this errand to run, and you’re getting in my way.  This job is one of a thousand steps on the road to me building up an image as someone who they can trust to get stuff done if asked, someone who can keep getting responsibilities in this family, understand?”

“Yeah,” Avery said.

“I figure the only way I can get away with not doing this promptly and well is if I can tell my uncle ‘sorry, that took longer than expected, but here’s the head of the girl who caused that delay mounted on a stick, with her opossum’s head as a bonus.  That’s one less obstacle in your way, what would you like me to do next?’”

“I kinda agree,” Snowdrop said, to Avery.  “You’re what’s wrong with this world.”

Avery put a hand on Snowdrop’s shoulder, giving it a rub, and looked over at Raquel.

She wasn’t sure what to say.

Raquel took the silence as an answer, when it wasn’t intended as such, and turned, striding back over to the office.

Avery brought her phone to her ear.  She dialed the others.

“Hello?” Lucy asked.

“Hold on,” Avery said, waiting.

There was a boop.

“Hello?” Verona asked.

“Putting you on speaker so Snow can hear,” Avery told them, as she hit the button.  “Negotiations with Raquel didn’t work out.  She’s gone back to her errand.  I’m… not sure what to do.  I thought she’d listen but she’s pretty mad.”

“Come back to us?” Lucy asked.  “Or to me?  Verona’s going to go back to the house and ask my mom about going out to see Zed and Brie while they’re ‘passing through.’  We’re keeping tabs on things here.”

“And what about the Witch Hunter and Raquel?”

“I dunno.  Zed said Raquel is slippery, so she might be fine.  Musser seems to be okay sending her out.”

Avery made a face.

She could hear Zed saying something in the background of the call.

“Hey, Avery?  Zed’s getting our attention-”

“I heard.  What’s up?”

“Nicolette thinks one of the Witch Hunters is getting close to you.”

Avery turned, looking, switching from normal sight to foggy-connections Sight to Opossum Sight.

The woman who’d been riding the motorcycle was crossing the street at a run, approaching the strip mall.  She wasn’t wearing the leather jacket or helmet part of her outfit anymore, which was why she was hard to identify, and she was even harder to identify because she’d changed up her look.  She wore a loose-fitting shirt with decorative trim at the wide collar and hem, a draping necklace that was hidden by the shirt, and she had an old-fashioned camera with a flash provided through a box mounted on top, hanging from a strap at her neck, and a cube-ish shaped bag at her hip, strap extending to the far shoulder.  She looked more a photographer than anything, or a tourist- she looked like she stood out, and she already had been someone who’d stand out anywhere, with a classic buxom figure, narrow waist, big chest, long legs, but also black skin and a striking, severe expression.

“Yeahhhhh.  I see her.”

“Run.”

Avery, feeling the nervous energy, bounced on the spot, like her legs knew she needed to go, as the rest of her held back.

Why was that constantly a thing?  The head and the heart, the heart and her legs…

Snowdrop gave her hand the slightest tug, indicating direction.

She ran, and she ran away, but her trajectory, aim helped by Snowdrop, took her toward Raquel.  Toward that big window with the pine tree and skiier stenciled on it.  Snowdrop ran alongside.

She bumped into the window, and she knocked, trying not to be too obvious to the Witch Hunter.

Raquel turned, looked, and gave Avery the finger, while Avery tried to convey the danger with a look of alarm.  Raquel turned back to the counter and the frumpy woman sitting there, leaning down and forward to keep her red face in the zone of a desk fan.

Avery kicked the window, and glass rattled in the housing, and Raquel pointedly ignored her.

In another world, or if she’d been watching a movie, this might have been the point she lost her patience as a member of the audience, arguing for the heroine to save herself.  Let the asshole die, right?

Except… Raquel was still a person.  Deluded and maybe not a great person, if she really did want to be a Musser, but a person.  Someone with hopes, dreams…

Avery looked, saw the Witch Hunter halfway across the parking lot, watching her, stride long and forceful, one hand keeping the camera from swinging.

Avery could go to the door but there was a good chance the Witch Hunter could intercept her if she tried.  The parking lot was too big and open to black rope into some unseen corner of the interior-

Snowdrop tugged on her arm, pulling her away from the window, and then Snowdrop screamed, top of her lungs.

Avery caught a glimpse of Raquel turning, startled, before her momentum took her around the corner and put the window out of her field of view.

Black rope wrapped around her fist, Avery punched up, holding onto Snowdrop.

Up to the flat roof, littered with crushed beer cans and cigarettes.  She caught her balance, and tried to avoid stepping on some, but there were enough up here that it was impossible.

“Nimble little thing, aren’t you?  Where are you, where did you go?” the woman asked, with the loose vowels of a strong Quebec accent, a little faster than normal English, with added emphasis on the ends of each utterance.

Avery found her balance, helping Snowdrop find a spot to stand by lending her a hand to lean onto while she picked her footing on the rooftop, so she could avoiding kicking or stepping onto any more cans.

“I may be a witch hunter, but I have no real quarrel with witches.  I hunt the monsters, don’t worry!”

Raquel hadn’t left the building yet.  Was she in a position to see the Witch Hunter through the window?

“What if the monsters are nice?” Avery asked, glad the parking lot was empty, the strip mall largely devoid of any business, especially anything nearby.

“You would have to explain that to me,” the woman said.  “Can we talk?  It is very clear that something is wrong with this town, and I like to have as much information as possible.  You could tell me about these nice monsters.”

“I think I’m more comfortable being up here than down there with you,” Avery told her, calling down.

“If that’s so, I don’t mind,” the woman said, out of Avery’s sight.

There was the sound of the camera going off.

“What are you doing?”

“Gathering information, as I said.  Your friend is trying to hide from me.”

“She’s not really a friend.”

“Ah.  That’s too bad.  It’s a very unfriendly world.  We need all the friends we can get.”

“What’s the deal with the camera?” Avery asked.

“Information.  I like to understand things.  I capture the world on film and put it on my wall.  By the time I leave here my motel room wall will look like a conspiracy theorist’s mad dream, lines everywhere.  What’s your name, little witch?”

“Sharing a name can be dangerous.  Sorry,” Avery said.

“I’m Cleo.  Cleo Aleshire,” the woman said, lapsing into thicker accent as she stated her name, like it was very much how she was used to saying it.  “We heard there was something possibly loose here, wardings to keep something very big and nasty inside.”

“There isn’t, unless I’ve been horribly misled,” Avery called down.

“Then the other Witch hunters may have been horribly misled.  They’re another group than mine.  It may be important to work out what’s happened and who did the misleading, before things get bad.  You seem nice, wanting to warn the other girl I was coming.  Can we talk?  Can we try friendship in this unfriendly world?”

Avery looked at Snowdrop, who was frowning a bit.  Frowns and smiles weren’t necessarily flipped, it was more usual for Snowdrop’s expression to be perplexing, slightly uneven teeth biting down on one lip.

“Are you part of the same group that attacked the Vanderwerfs?” Avery asked.  “From Montreal?”

“I am a part of that group, but I wasn’t there, then.  I heard about it.  Are you friends with the Vanderwerfs?”

“No comment,” Avery said.  “But it lets me know a bit about who you might be.  That you deal with scary people that’d exterminate most of a family.  I don’t want to show my face in front of that camera in case it’s a ploy.  So I’m going to have to ask you to leave.”

“What sort of ploy are you imagining?”

“Like… you taking a picture and then sending it to other Witch Hunters, to help them hunt me later, in case you fail.  Or you taking a picture and trying to destroy my life.  For someone who hunts monsters, it feels weird that you’re supposed to be someone who hunts monsters but a camera is the only weapon I can see.”

“As Mister Musser demonstrated, guns don’t always work.  Bullets can be caught or warded off.  For the monsters I hunt, I prefer traps.  A pit and a lot of explosives will kill a good few things.”

Avery considered the responses, but as was becoming the case more and more… she didn’t have any good ones.

Easier to be quiet, to wait.

She remained where she was, crouched on the roof, and heard the woman walk around a little bit.

Right.  Okay.  Ambush was probably a bad idea.  Could she black rope off to some distant location?  If the camera was there to, like, inform other Witch Hunters and make this a thing that never stopped, each Witch Hunter they stopped being followed up by a group, until the Witch Hunters finally broke the threat, then what did it count if Cleo down there caught a distance shot, Avery and Snowdrop at the edge of the trees, disappearing into the woods?

While she was thinking, she heard the creak of the door, and the jangling of the bell.

Entering?  Going after Raquel?

Avery approached the roof’s edge-

And was blinded by a flash.

“Oh!  Much of that was lies, witch,” Cleo called up.  “I do hunt witches, and now I have you.”

Avery tensed, letting her vision return, watching as the old fashioned camera spat out a photo, a black square with white borders.  Cleo pulled it out and began giving it a shake.

To her Sight, the Camera had just spat out about fifty kinds of film reel, a lot of them attaching to her.  Something had happened.

Now, seeing that, she was really worried that it was the kind of thing where any damage to the photo would damage her.  Hole in the photo, hole in her body.  Burn the photo, and she burned.

Except a lot of it seemed to be connected to the roof’s edge, and the surroundings.

Avery pulled back, retreating, feet kicking cans across the roof, crunching the sparse gravel that was scattered across broad, four-foot-by-four-foot shingles or whatever it was that haphazardly tiled this store rooftop.  Some of the connections broke.

“Don’t go!” Cleo called out.

Avery ran, Snowdrop following.  Off the rooftop using the black rope.  Distance helped, pulling free of the effect.

She knew she was moving away from Raquel, away from her ability to steer things, maybe renew conversation.

She didn’t want this to be a big, ugly fight with a lot of blood and casualties.

She looked back, and she could see Cleo, holding what might have been a grappling hook or something.  It was shiny and had that look to it, and she was whipping it around in a circle, to help build up the momentum that would send the grappling hook up to the roof’s edge.

Except Avery was long gone.

“Call goblins?” Snowdrop asked.  “John?”

Avery hesitated.  Calling John could be a disaster, if that camera was the sort of thing John couldn’t fight.

The Witch Hunter was back there, backing up from the roof, grappling hook in one hand.

The other hand shook the photo.

The world lurched, and there was a chemical, mechanical smell, like oils and paint cleaner, washing over her, a flutter of stiff paper-

And she was on the rooftop, no longer running.

Cleo had already let the grappling hook go.  Avery twisted to go, but she barely had time.  The hook scraped the roof before tension of rope at roof’s edge pulled it up, one of the points scraping her calf, another catching on her laces.

Pulling her off-balance, and pulling her off the roof.

Avery kicked hard at the roof as she tipped, a boost of wind that shook the hook free and gave her the momentum that carried her out and forward.

It was still a twelve foot drop or so, one she wasn’t prepared for, and one she faced with a position that was more horizontal than vertical, now.  She’d hoped to black rope, but as she did, she felt a muscle pull in her arm, and she didn’t go anywhere.

Cleo didn’t take eyes off her for a second, didn’t afford her the opportunity to use her best tool.

Dimly, she remembered videos she’d watched.  She punched at the air, twisted at waist and hips- and kinda-rolled as she landed on parking lot.  She huffed out a breath, felt skin at her bare shoulder scuff up, and rolled.

Terror surged through her as she saw the Witch Hunter striding toward her, Camera dropped and dangling from strap, knife in hand.

Avery rolled toward the Witch Hunter, despite logic, pulling the dog tag from her neck and whipping it more than she dropped it, in the opposite direction.

The Witch Hunter came at her at a run, knife out, and Avery knew she had to be on her feet to get away.  She braced herself to get cut, arms up, as she staggered to her feet.

And she was pushed out of the way.

John.  John engaged with the Witch Hunter, with so little time that if he had any knife on him he didn’t have time to draw it.  He grabbed the fist that held the knife and then grabbed the woman by the fancy collar.

“Do you like my collection?” Cleo asked him.

“Not especially,” he answered.  He glanced at Avery.  “How hurt are you?”

“Scraped but nothing much else, I don’t think.”

“Give me time,” Cleo said.  “I’m sorry I don’t want to be friends, witch.  I do have my quarrel with witches.  I don’t care for information gathering, unless it’s what you tell me when I slide a knife inside you and twist it.”

“I think if that’s true, you’re more of a monster than the things you’re hunting,” Avery replied.

“At least give me a photo to remember you by,” Cleo said.  Without raising the camera, still looped around her neck by a strap, she put hand to camera, tilted it to face Avery, and hit the button.

The flash went off.

“What does it do?” John asked.

“I don’t-”

“Captures a moment in time,” the Witch Hunter said.  “I had to clean it inside and out before the curse would go away, it was owned by a practitioner. One of my many trophies.”

“And the necklace?  More trophies?” John asked.

Cleo smiled.

She plucked the photo from the camera.  Still a black square, the actual picture yet to fade in.

And when it did, Avery would reappear where she’d been standing.

“Don’t let her get me if I reappear here!” Avery shouted, before bolting.

“Right!” John called out.

Cleo laughed.

Avery made her second attempt at breaking the connections by putting enough distance between herself and the photo.

How long had it taken the first time?  Shaking the photo, trying to hurry the clarification of the image.  Five seconds?  Ten?

She chose her route this time with the idea that she needed that distance.  She saw Snowdrop near the trees, anxiously waiting, and willed Snowdrop to understand, she was about to use the black rope.

Snowdrop put a hand over her eyes.  Good!

Avery checked the coast was clear, then jumped the distance, clearing the stretch of partial fence and back field behind the strip mall, running toward Bowdler.

The connections were peeling away, and she could tell that some were between her and the location, and some were between her and John, who had also been in the picture.  That helped, but-

Snowdrop wrapped her in a hug.

More connections to anchor her here…

And the last of the photo’s grip pulled away, the connections like strips of film negative that drifted in the wind, nothing attaching them to her anymore.  Avery breathed hard, while Snow supported her.

“Did you escape?” Snowdrop asked.  “Will you get sent back?”

“I don’t know, but…” Avery whispered.

She turned to look, and she saw those same film negatives go from tattered and weak to something else entirely, bigger, stronger, purposeful–

Like the fingers of a massive hand closing or a series of serpents striking in unison, they came for her.

Pulling her back and away.

She prepared a shift of balance, pushing Snowdrop clear, and prepared mentally to jump, not to escape this–

She reappeared in the parking lot, and jumped.

Cleo had just released her knife.  Timed like with the grappling hook.  Avery felt the sharp pain at her forearm.  A graze, not a full-on impact.

John had tried to shield her, but John had been moved by the photo too, his balance was off.

Avery landed on her side on the parking lot.  The knife clattered to ground behind her.

“Darn,” Cleo said, smiling.

Spooky.  Seriously spooky.  What the heck?

Cleo was still carrying the camera, but she’d pulled her necklace out of her shirt and wrapped it around the camera.

That necklace was black cord wrapped around fingers.  Twenty or so, some dried up to the point of being mummified, beef jerky skin over bone.  Some were fresh, blood oozing out of them still.

“Trophies,” John said.  “Something taken from the practitioners she hunts, so she can use their power when she needs it.”

“Why?” Avery asked.

“Because collecting trophies makes it easier to get more trophies,” Cleo said, with her heavy accent.  “The ones that still bleed are from the ones I’ve kept alive and confined.  The ones who piss me off, or the ones who are small, young, and manageable like you.”

“She’s a serial killer?” Avery whispered to John, alarmed.

“Something like one, yes,” John replied.

“Is the third time a charm?” Cleo asked.  She drew a knife out of her bag.  “That is a thing you Witches say, isn’t it?  I don’t really believe in it.  You can run and try to break free, I have magical items, more than just this camera, I have power to spare to make these items work twice as hard, and I won’t get too tired doing this.”

“Help’s coming,” John whispered.  “Try to get away without letting her take your picture.  Stand behind me.”

Avery did.

“If we can stall this out as a fight, we should be okay with Jabber and the others,” John murmured.  “I’ll be able to use my gun.”

“Okay,” Avery whispered, feeling anxious because John standing between her and Cleo meant she couldn’t see much of what was happening.  It was an awkward position, no cars around in this area of the parking lot, the nearest tree about fifty paces away, the nearest building had Cleo between herself and it.  She couldn’t even trust the black rope would work if she used it, because there was unobstructed line of sight from a good portion of Kennet to where she stood now.

The door of the office opened.  Avery hoped for a second that Raquel was standing up to the Witch Hunter, and starting to cooperate.

It wasn’t Raquel.  It was the employee, the middle-aged woman who had been red in the face before but was even more alarmed now.

“What on earth are you doing!?  Put that away!” the employee shouted.

Cleo looked to her left without actually turning her head or moving so she could see the woman.  Crouching, knife in her right hand, she let the camera drop from her left hand, and it was tangled up enough in the necklace with fingers strung along it that the camera didn’t even drop from where it was.

She had photos in her hands, some already used, others already taken but not yet shaken.  She picked one out and shoved the others into her pocket.

She shook it.

“Lady!” the employee shouted.  “Put the weapon down!  I’m going to call the authorities!”

“Go inside!” John called out.  “People are on the way, just stay safe!”

Cleo kept shaking the photo.

The employee blurred and fuzzed up, like an out-of-focus picture, and then she was gone.

Avery peeked, and saw the employee at her desk, acting like nothing was wrong.  Cleo moved the knife to her left hand and walked over a few steps, so she wasn’t in plain view.

Innocents seemed to be reset without memories intact.

Cleo glanced down at the photo.  “There used to be two people in this photo.  One trying to hide under a desk.  Where did your not-friend run off to, Witch?”

“Don’t really know,” Avery replied.

“So the question seems to be,” Cleo said, her accent-heavy voice lilting now, playful. “Do I go after the bird that’s nearly in my hands, or do I go for the one in flight?”

“Or do you stop?” Avery asked.  “Stop.”

Snowdrop was trying to express how she wanted to approach.  Avery willed her away.

Snow couldn’t do much here.

Cleo began to walk backwards, swift, long strides, as she rounded the corner, going to look.

Raquel had found a back exit, maybe after pointing out the knife to the employee.  Now Raquel ran for the woods, going to the same general location that Snowdrop was at.

Cleo glanced over, then picked up her camera, taking a picture.

Hide, Avery willed Snowdrop.

Snowdrop ran.

“Cleo, I want you to back off,” Avery called out.

“She dresses better than you, don’t you think?  Nicer hair, nicer clothes,” Cleo said.  She pulled the picture out of the camera and began giving it a shake.  The camera looked like it was a bit overused, the housing pulsing like it had a heartbeat.  Specks of black oil or something oozed at the seams.

Avery told Cleo, “Go after the others, that’s… workable.  But Raquel seems to be a victim more than anything.  If you’re after ransom money or something, I don’t think her family will pay.”

“I don’t want ransom money.  I want to stop you.  All of you, those who practice dark magic.”

As Cleo slowly backed up in the direction of Raquel, Avery and John gently approached her, maintaining roughly the same distance, Avery staying behind John.  Cleo kept one hand close to her bag.  Like if something went wrong, she’d reach in and pull something out.  Another item?  A gun?

“Can you stop her?” Avery whispered.  “Gun?  Nonlethal shot?”

“After Jabber gets here.  Anything else might draw too much attention.”

“I could try to black rope us out.  If she isn’t watching us.”

“I would worry about what might happen if she has another trick up her sleeve and we can’t escape.”

Raquel blurred, and instead of being close to Snowdrop, reappeared halfway between the strip mall and the treeline.

Cleo took another picture.

Capturing that moment in time, capturing Raquel, in the midst of trying to get away.  Raquel couldn’t run far enough away, and didn’t have a Snowdrop to run to, or she could run to Snowdrop, but it wouldn’t have the same effect.  Snowdrop was mostly a stranger to her.

“You’re not friends, right?” Cleo asked.  “I’ll take her, you can go.  I might catch up with you later, if the mood strikes.  Keep an eye out.”

“Not friends, but I don’t want you hurting or kidnapping anyone!”

Cleo ignored her, heading toward where Raquel had been as the picture had been taken.  The photo was at Cleo’s side, and Cleo gave it a firm shaking.

“John,” Avery whispered.

“You want me to shoot?”

“If Mr. Musser chooses violence and the Witch Hunters respond, okay.  But Raquel just goes where she’s told.  She doesn’t get much choice- she’s not willing to lose everything, and she’d have to if she wanted to refuse to work for family.  I don’t agree but…”

“But you don’t want her to get hurt?”

“No,” Avery whispered.

John drew his gun.  He aimed it at Cleo.  “Be prepared to get us clear of outside attention.”

Avery nodded.

Cleo darted forward, changing direction- she seemed to see John in the midst of the movement, and flashed a smile.  Still shaking that self-developing picture.

Raquel reappeared, and she reappeared into Cleo’s waiting arms.  The Witch Hunter grabbed Raquel, twisting arms and kicking the back of her leg, Cleo dropping to a crouch while Raquel’s knees hit grass, arm twisted behind her.  She was a human shield for the Witch Hunter, who smiled a bit.

“Stop!” John called out.

Cleo whispered something in Raquel’s ear.  Raquel’s entire body jumped, pain flashing across her face, as her arm was twisted further.

“I will shoot!”

Avery could see the red of a tool that Cleo held.  Raquel went stiff, grimacing.

Handheld wire cutters or bolt cutters or something  She had them right up to Raquel’s hand.

John exhaled slowly.

“Yeah,” Avery whispered, quiet.

John shot.  The Witch Hunter was thrown back, blood jolting out of her shoulder more than it sprayed, like a single frame of animation, before the crimson red was out of view.  She fell.  Raquel hurried to her feet, one hand in the other, a finger bent the wrong way, like it was broken, bleeding profusely… but intact.

“Raquel!” Avery called out.

“Fuck off, fuck you!  You probably led her right to me!”

Avery stopped.

John approached, gun out and pointed at the ground, watching the Witch Hunter writhe, hand at her shoulder.

“Surrender.”

Cleo smiled, and then she fuzzed out, like a picture taken out of focus, more and more, until she wasn’t there anymore.  A patch of flattened grass and some blood.

“She took a selfie?” Avery asked.

“Looks like.”

“She could be anywhere, then, right?  Anywhere she’s been recently?”

“Could be.”

“I didn’t know Witch Hunters used magic items,” Avery said.

“Many do.  Some stick to one.  Some collect them in the same way they stockpile guns and ammo.  They’re just tools to be used.  They’re available to the uninitiated.”

And to the Forsworn, Avery thought.  It was how Charles had made the Choir.

They’d really opened a can of worms here, hadn’t they?  And now Cleo was out there, more dangerous than Avery had imagined was possible.  Bloodthirsty and competent.

Snowdrop caught up with them.  Avery was glad for the hug that immediately followed.

“Raquel was a lost cause.  It’s good if she’s a little shaken but ultimately fine,” John said.

“Broken finger, cut to the bone, it looked like,” Avery said.

“It did look like that.  You offered, you tried, let’s leave it at that and go back to the others.  This is only the overture,” John said.

“Only the overture?”

A gunshot made her nearly jump out of her skin.  John took a step forward.  And despite the fact it wasn’t raining, a warm dappling of moisture settled on Avery’s scalp, face, ears, and shoulders.

Snowdrop’s too- a mist of blood.

Avery caught John, as did Snowdrop, helping him balance.

The gunshot wound was small, but it had gone in and out.  Through the back of the head and out the front.  With the direction John was facing, the direction of the mist-

Avery grabbed Snowdrop, pulling, and used John to block the view.  She used the black rope to hop to the back of the strip mall, where garbage cans were sitting by back doors, and where air conditioners hummed.

They gathered there, leaving John where he was, backs to the wall.

Cleo shouted something.

She hadn’t actually gone that far.  She’d just… gotten in position and put a bullet in the biggest threat.

We can’t afford to get wrapped up in this, Avery thought.  There’s already too much to do.

It felt like she’d betrayed John, not being more on guard.  It felt like she’d betrayed herself, arguing earlier that they shouldn’t compromise or reach out to people who weren’t reaching back.  Charles, in that case, but she’d…

She’d really, deep in her heart, wanted Raquel to reach back.  Not out of any crush or love or anything.  There was barely anything she even liked about Raquel.  But she’d thought it made sense that Raquel might accept a reaching hand, and it hurt doubly that the girl had slapped it away as fiercely as she had.

John started to rise to his feet.  There was another gunshot, and he fell again.

They couldn’t leave John or the Witch Hunter might do something to make the next death permanent.

“Immortal!?” Cleo called out.

Avery wanted to respond but couldn’t.  She had a sense of where Cleo was, on the far end of the strip mall, just going by the direction of her voice and the sound of the gunshot.

That shooting might attract police attention soon.  Avery wasn’t sure what would happen then, but the fact that Cleo wasn’t worried made her worried.

If she could draw Cleo away, then maybe John would be able to get up.

She looked up, grabbed Snowdrop’s hand, and black-roped her way up to the roof again.

She advanced along the roof, trying to make a bit of noise, zig-zagging and keeping the noise to the left side, to try to pull Cleo in that direction.  She was aware that if she went too far left and was visible at the roof’s edge from the ground, a camera flash could put her in Cleo’s grip.

Snowdrop went small and began pushing and throwing cans off the edge.

Cleo had gone silent.  No more taunting calls, no more threats, no more gunshots.

The lack of knowledge scared her.

Avery crouched down, eyes scanning the roof’s edges in case that grappling hook Cleo had had in her bag made a reapparance, and pulled out her phone.  She texted Lucy.  ‘Gate earng’.

She began to text clarification, because she’d rushed the message, but Lucy’s response came back.  A single letter.

She went to Snowdrop, and flipped through her phone to find the reference image.

“Keep eyes out.”

Snow nodded, and turned her head and Avery moved her face and chin to the side.  Avery began to draw on Snow’s ear.  The gate of horn and antler.  It was meant to connect Sight, but for the ear…

Snow jumped a bit, then looked around, pointing, finger moving, presumably, as Cleo circled around, then circled back, to watch John.

John wasn’t reviving that fast, or he was biding time to build strength.

Snowdrop took the pen and phone and Avery sat while Snowdrop drew the image on her left ear.

It took a few seconds, but the sharpened sound came through.  It came and went a bit.

“Thanks, Lucy,” Avery murmured.

That thought alone seemed to clarify it.

What a mess this is, she thought.  And that seemed to hurt the enhanced sound.

They were probably burning through a lot of power this way.

“Fuck.”

Avery looked.  She could also place Cleo’s general location.

Careful, wary, she grabbed a can, found a bit of broken roof-edge, and grabbed that too.

Snow helped.

Together, they hurled things over the edge.  Cans, trash, bits of broken concrete, a fistful of gravel.

Cleo ran, and they aimed accordingly.

The clatter of cans was apparently audible to John, because he got to his feet and he broke into a run, running closer to them and the building.

Cleo was on the front-facing side of the building, and there was a huff of breath, a grunt.

Cleo scaled the front of the building using security bars and signage.  Her hands gripped the edge and Avery wasn’t in a great position to punt her off.

John shot again, past them, at Cleo.  It wasn’t a good angle, even with John approaching by running down the hill’s base, where things sloped a bit, giving him a somewhat high vantage point.  He missed, and Cleo ducked, running for cover behind a roof-mounted air conditioning unit.

Dangerously close to Avery and Snowdrop.  Peering at them past a pipe.

They could jump, but Avery was still scraped up from the last fall, and a twisted ankle this early into things this intense was a scary, scary idea.  Probably along similar lines to how Verona felt being gainsaid.

Frig.  Frig, were they supposed to wait for John?

Avery looked toward the street, and she saw people had stopped in their tracks.

People except for one.  A young woman with dirty blonde hair and a white top.  A woman who appeared to have entire limbs and the side of her stomach made of bloody red handprints when viewed with the Sight, bloody smears over nothing, congealed enough to make limbs.

Brie saw Avery, and Brie reached out.

Children’s singing swelled.

Feet scuffed the gravel and kicked cans as three children appeared on the roof.

They snarled, and scrambled for Cleo.  Two more appeared and joined them a moment later.  Biting, scratching desperately, clawing with fingers as if they could tear off flesh to eat with.

Cleo fought them, hurling one bodily off the roof with two arms, then pushing off another, and got bit for her trouble.

The one that fell from the roof picked himself up, barely hurt.  Only for Cleo to jump onto him, using him as an awkward cushion to soften the fall.  She stumbled as she stopped.

Only for more children to appear, one pouncing onto her back and biting into shoulder.

She reached into her pocket, not for a weapon, but for paper.

“Don’t let her shake the photo!” Avery shouted.  Her own voice was loud with the earring’s effect.

Brie was too far away to hear.

“Don’t let her shake the photo!  Have them take the photo away!”

Avery mimed.  Snowdrop did the same.

Cleo disappeared.  She’d set up a contingency.

The chidren huffed, one almost barking as he choked on meat he’d bitten away.  Another gnashed with broken teeth.

Brie stopped running, and walked the rest of the way.

John had climbed up onto the roof, and touched Avery’s shoulder as he passed.  “Alright?”

Avery nodded.  She’d been grazed by a knife, though, and it had bled more than she’d thought it would, now that she saw.  She’d also taken the fall, and her one shoulder looked like sandpaper had been taken to it.

But, all considered, they’d survived enough.

John approached the roof’s edge and looked down as the children gathered, fighting with one another for the mouthfuls of raw meat they’d taken from Cleo.

She’d heal, if the ‘moment in time’ camera worked like it had before.  She was still out there.  There was even a dim chance that she wasn’t even that far away, and that she’d choose someone else to open fire on.

Avery looked at John, and she saw the look on his face as he watched the children.

“It would be nice if- if what the stuff we gave Brie helps her undo all that?”

“Yalda would still be dead.  Her power is there, a trace of her is there…”

“There was enough of her there to ask about you before she was bound,” Avery said.

John smiled.

“So maybe?” Avery asked, hopeful.

Because she felt like she really needed hope right now.

“Maybe.  But I don’t think it’ll happen before summer’s end.  That kind of work takes time.”

“I guess you’ll have to set things up so you stick around past summer, huh?” Avery asked him.

“I don’t-” he started.  He stopped.  “Let’s get somewhere safer.  She might still be out there, and I don’t like being shot all that much.”

“Right,” Avery said.  She wasn’t going to push it.  “Let’s go grab Jabber, and catch up with the others.”

John nodded.

Avery black-roped her way to ground, bringing John and Snowdrop, and then caught up with Brie, who was still in the process of putting the Choir away.  The ones who were still eating and pulling flesh between teeth and hands to try and tear it didn’t seem to want to go.  The song permeated the air.

The people inside the stores, the employee of the cabin rental place included, were all smiling Jabber smiles.  A woman had wet herself and stood in a pool of urine.

Avery shuddered.

“Thanks,” Avery told Brie.  “Nice save.”

“It’s nice to be the one doing the saving, instead of the one needing it all the time,” Brie said.  “I hope it wasn’t upsetting, John.”

John shook his head.

They got the hell out of this stupid parking lot, with its lack of cover, and headed back toward downtown.  As they did, they caught up with the goblins that were escorting Jabber.  Biscuit and Doglick.  John gave Doglick’s head a rub, and Doglick yapped.

Biscuit, Avery noted.  And Jabber.  And Chloe, Nibble, Rook, Ken, and all the other new ones.

There were still mysteries that they needed to figure out, and the purposes of the new Others felt like an important one.  The nature of the goblins and their involvement in the conspiracy another.

And they had to do it discreetly, while trying to manage this nightmare.

Avery was careful to pay as much attention as she could to a babbling Jabber, without giving away what she was doing.  She hoped the others were doing the same.

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