Trace Williams, once of Perdoxx, now of Sabatt, wended his way down the street. The wind was picking up as the clouds rolled in to obliterate any stars in the sky. He hated leaving Joy at the hospital, but there were others there that he had come to trust. He trusted her doctor, Kris Hollidayy for one, and even Ricoh. The animosities between him and the Ranger leader had faded to a companionable tolerance. It felt good. It was better than being hated. The wind whipped debris around the streets and caught in his curly hair. He cursed softly as he tried to protect his eyes with his coat and make his way to the Laundromat.
Dylisse had never been one to care about the time before. If she was hungry and there was food, she ate. If she was tired, she slept. Nevertheless, here she was on the street near the Fellowship, checking the time with the ornate pocket-watch that once belonged to a medic, and was now hers.
It was 9:35 PM ... the tenth month, the thirty-first day. Which meant nothing really to her. Still, she liked knowing. A smile flickered across her face, hidden by her hood; until a bit of dust flew into her eye. She cursed, rubbed it.
Garnet sat, scrunched into a doorway in the vicinity of the Laundromat. She tried to huddle into the shadows though a nearby streetlight prevented that from being entirely possible. She tore off a piece of the long patchwork skirt she wore and dabbed at a trickle of blood that ran down her arm. She shivered, both of cold and fear, trembling as she tried again to invoke a 'curtain' of concealment. She shouldn't be here at this time of night, but she was in no condition to travel far after her 'altercation'.
Trace's coat whipped out of his hands. He started to curse again, but stopped himself. Too much time around Freemen! "Going to have to bloody well curb my bloody tongue around the baby," he muttered aloud.
Grabbing his coat he turned a corner and moved on. With tearing eyes, she looked up and squinted ahead. The Landromat, perhaps two or three buildings away. Why she felt the urge to come here again was beyond her.
The night the young drug addict died in the hospital, Jerimiahh Carr stood in the doorway of the Laundromat, unconcealed once more as the wind chased bits of paper down the street. Several of his people were out yet and if they did not come in soon, he would be going out after them himself.
Thunder and lightning came together at the same time directly overtop of the Laundromat and even Jerry winced. "Sweet Sabatt," he breathed. "Protect us."
Jerry's eyes narrowed at a two forms he could make out across the street, though one wanted desperately not to be seen. He reached into what seemed like nothingness to pull his coat out of thin air. The reality of that was that there was a coat, a rack and ten men maintaining the illusion he'd 'reached into'. He shrugged into his coat and stepped out into the wind.
Simon panicked just slightly and for a fraction of a moment the image inside the Laundromat of a room invisible wavered. Then it re-established itself even as Jerry took a look back at it. He crossed the street and headed for the doorway where one woman was stepping back. "Veritas," he whispered as he approached, his hand going immediately to his stomach. The spell of truth was a powerful one that left him gasping but with more knowledge
than he had before.
The one with the knife clenched in her hand and hiding in the doorway was Garnet, whom he knew, and she was injured so said the Truth. The first woman he came to however had a cloak on and she pushed her hood back so Jerry could see her. It was Dylisse. Interesting that the gods should choose this night to bring her back. The air shimmered with a spark as Garnet's 'hide' magic was squelched by the far more powerful spell.
"Ladies," he gasped as if he'd been punched in the stomach. "You should come inside. Safer there."
"See. I told you." Dy turned back towards the shadow and spoke lightly, teasingly. She reached out a hand towards her. "You heard him."
"Are you badly hurt, Garnet?" He asked, having seen the girl talking to the woman on a previous occasion.
The static in the air elongated the spark and shimmer of the death of Garnet's spell so that he could see it flash there echoing on his retina.
The girl tried to rise to her feet, a wave of nausea assailed her - she'd overstepped her body's ability to sustain. "I'll be okay ... sick ...hurt my arm." The knife fell from her hand; the trembling was marked with occasional spasms.
"We'll lend you a hand," Jer said, looking at Dylisse. "If you'll help me?"
Dylisse reached for Garnet. "Yes, you'll be okay. Come on, young one." She nodded at the man; yes, she would help. In fact she moved to hook an arm around the girl's waist, if she'd allow it.
He stepped forward, intent upon circling a lean but strong arm sliding around Garnet's waist. "Just hold on to my neck and her hand and come up slowly." His arm would touch Dylisse's. The silk of his shirt was whisper soft.
Garnet offered a weak smile to Dy and Jer, reaching to hold them and struggling to rise. She let them assist her; there was little else she could have done if she had wanted to.
Once Jerry and Dy had hold of Garnet together, they began to move forward, focused on the doorway across the way.
Wind and static in the air lifted the hair of a man who was running toward them down the street. The sound of his steps drew their cautious looks. The man's lapis eyes were gilt with gold. With his long coat fluttering out behind him as he ran toward them, he could have been an incarnation of one of the Gods. Venexx or Makabb perhaps.
"Sonova..." Dy shot a look at Jerry, then craned her neck to see who was coming. Already her free hand had come to rest on the dagger at her belt.
"They said they'd be back," Garnet's tone was weak, ill. The words were forced out in attempt to warn the others and then trailed into a whimper deep in her throat.
Jerry's eyes fought with his near-sightedness to make out the form running for them. The man slowed abruptly to a trip-stepped walk about fifty paces from them. His hair settled as the wind lulled and his coat flapped once then fell to hanging -- as if the weather stopped for this man. But that was just an illusion of the moment... a coincidence of timing... a joke of the Gods. They so liked to toy with Tracey.
"It'd be their mistake," Dylisse hissed. Her eyes were riveted on the man approaching.
Garnet looked up then and saw the figure coming toward them. A shriek rose from her throat--and caught as the figure slowed.
"Jeremiahh." The man spoke as he looked from one to the other, to the third between them while the shriek strangled in her throat.
His voice was a soothing balm when he spoke again. "I won't hurt you luv," he practically purred it at her. His curls and waves of brown were hi-lighted with red when the lighting flashed overhead and those lapis eyes seemed to glow of their own even after the flashes of electricity faded.
"It'll be all right." Quiet words to Garnet, barely audible. But damned if her suspicion of this man wasn't turning to a flicker of fascination. Blue eyes roamed over him, or what she could see in the darkness. "You know him?" Her words were for Jerry, though in honesty, she barely knew him either.
Garnet's wary hazel-eyed gaze regarded the stranger. Beneath his black coat he wore a black T-shirt and dark trousers. All dark to hide in the shadows, yet he stood in the middle of the street. Stark contrast to the scribe who sat in an office and wrote spell scrolls.
Jerry was impressed, but he always was with Tracey. "Yes, I do. Meet Trace Williams, ladies. Steward of the Fellowship."
"Jerry, you talk too bloody much. These women need to get inside."
"She needs to, yes. She's hurt somehow. And sick from casting." With a curt nod at Trace, Dylisse started moving again, guiding Garnet and Jerry along with her hopefully. Any further study of this Trace could wait. The need to get inside was getting worse...it just felt...wrong out here. Strange.
Garnet inclined her head to Trace, the best she could manage at this point and made her way along with the others. "Thanks." She managed to whisper. The wind seemed laced with malevolence, like raking teeth in the night. They all felt it, though it was Garnet who shuddered. She wasn't the only one relieved to see the door to their haven before them.
Trace made for the door and held it open as the wind tossed bits of junk in through the portal. "Come on. Let's go. No time to waste. That's it." The words propelled Garnet or seemed to ... In she went, Dy and Jer before and behind her.
Jerry moved with them and as they got first Dylisse then Garnet then Jerry through the door, Trace said softly, "Jerry, you git, I swear to the gods I'm going to pan your head in."
That got a chuckle out of the blonde, but a quiet one, once they were inside. "Where shall we take her?" Jerry could see the effort she made not to stare around.
Trace came in behind them as Jer indicated the back wall of the room - though there was no visible door there.
"Yes," Trace said. "Might as well take her back to my room."
Jerry made a noise in his throat at how that came out of Trace's mouth.
Dylisse made a soft sound that could have been a laugh, and she looked over her shoulder at Trace with a wicked glint in her eye.
Young Garnet looked like a trapped phlupp.
"Good man, I'll be there in a mo. I want to speak to Simon." Whereupon he turned and called to the - apparently - empty room. "Simon? Simon bloody well show yourself. Ah, there you are... " The image of a man took an outline and then shape as a young blonde fellow with a gymnasts build came into view. "I think we've some peckish guests. Put together something warm, won't you? There's a good lad."
Jerry looked as if he was about to remind Trace that it wasn't Simon's job to do such things, not at all, but then the doorway into the back became visible. "It's all right, just come this way," he told Garnet who's stare broke when Trace turned away. Damn his lapis eyes! She blinked and looked surprised when Simon 'appeared'. Then when she heard Jerry a moment later, she nodded and followed him. Dylisse seemed concerned only with helping
Garnet, but Jerry noticed how she made herself aware of her surroundings. Smart woman.
The door seemed to open of it's own and they were into the inner office in a moment. Severely Spartan it was, desk, one window covered with oiled paper, dark. Jerry opened his mouth to speak but behind them moved Trace, shutting the door and murmuring quite forcibly, "Illuminus!"
Dy turned and stared at Trace as he spoke, then cast her gaze upwards and around.
The voice, or rather the power within it caught Garnet; she paused not looking so much as hearing, feeling the spark of it tingle.
Several candled sconces lit with warm blue-white light and Trace wiped lightly at his forehead. "There will be something to eat brought in soon. Why don't you two sit the young lady there? I'll just nip over to the cabinet for the first aid kit." Trace had learned a few things from the Nurses at NRMH. It paid to be able to do the mundane things when Magic was so very hard.
"Come on Garnet." Dy guided her over where Trace had indicated, but her eyes stayed on him. As if drawn there. Why not? Thought Jerry. There was something magnetic about him, something that drew in the people he met. Like flies. After all Joy was his now, wasn't she? So fragile, so delicate� Jerry shook his head to rid himself of the thoughts.
Jerry tried to quietly reassure the women that Trace was ... dynamic ... but not dangerous. Then the man thumped the first aid kit hard enough on the table to make Garnet jump. Jerry glared at him.
"Shall we see just what Miss Garnet's made of?" He smiled a wicked smile that would have been purely suggestive if he had been the man he used to be. As it was, it was enough of such an attitude to worry someone not familiar with him.
Garnet stumbled across with Dy and slumped into the seat. Her eyes were drawn to Trace ... his words almost... alarming.
"TW, knock it off," Jerry scowled and knelt down next to Garnet's chair.
Dylisse let Garnet go and took a step or two back but no more. She pushed her cloak back off of her shoulders and then folded thin arms. "Behave." Her smile was not particularly humorous.
"Th-thank you for h-helping me. B-but you don't have to go to so much trouble." She looked ready to take flight - if she had been remotely able, which she wasn't.
Twice rebuked, Trace let himself pout. It was the storm that had stirred him up, Jerry reasoned. He wasn't like this, not since� He shook his head. It had to be the storm. Getting out of the Castle of Disinfectant had swirled Trace's blood and set him free of white walls.
"How bad is it?" Trace asked, settling one hip on the corner of the desk.
"And maybe you could tell us what happened to you." Dy said to Garnet.
"Culties," she stammered. Why did it seem so hard to speak? "Two of them."
"Bastards," Trace muttered.
"Cut my arm with something ... not a knife. I couldn't see it."
"Which? What did they look like?" The sudden intensity in Dylisse's voice made Jerry look at her. That was an interesting reaction. Trace too watched the other woman as Jerry continued to minister to Garnet. He gently cut away the material around the injury.
"Something sharp, dragging along my skin; long. Deep; like they were enjoying how long it took or how it scared me."
Jerry made a little sound of sympathy, his heart rent by the remnants of terror in Garnets voice. "You're safe now," he said softly. He let the sodden material fall to the floor so he could examine the cut more closely. It seeped blood and the jaggedness of it worried him.
"One was just a little taller than me. His hair was blonde, long ... greasy," Garnet went on. "His eyes were hungry like an animal, gray I think. After a while it started to sting and burn ... I don't know if it should have. It sure bled enough. The other had dark hair, longish in the back - he was taller ... a lot..."
"Is it going to need stitches, Jer?"
"I can't tell, TW. There might be muscle damage. I can pack it and wrap it but she should go to Memorial."
Dy made a face. "Why?" She muttered. "Why would they do that to you?"
Trace's eyes narrowed and his voice was stern. "What makes you think they need a reason, luv? They hate any magic user, even they themselves I expect. Any who worship the gods or dare to use magic for good, they despise. " His eyes bored into her.
Garnet looked at Dy. "You told me culties didn't like magic users..."
"Bind that up nice and tight, Jeremiahh." The food was brought in with some nice hot tea... some bits of cheese, some bread in chunks... it wasn't much but it was something.
"Some of them need reason. They aren't all the same. *I* never..." Just like that, her words cut out for a moment.
"After you've eaten, Garnet, I'll take you to the hospital myself." Trace looked as if he hadn't heard Dylisse's misspoken words, but his eyes told Jerry he had. Perhaps she was a spy? If so, Jerry noted, Trace didn't look worried at the contemplation.
"Somehow they knew what I am. Called me a freak. I had to use the power to escape. I'm not sure, but I think they were trying to provoke me to use it; maybe to confirm what they'd guessed." The words had come out in a rush, wanting it over with. Trace's words registered belatedly. "The hospital, is it necessary?" She didn't want to sound ungrateful, yet fear made her ask.
Trace nodded to Garnet. "That is part of their twisted pleasure. And yes, we have few medics here." To Dylisse he said, "You should eat something. You look starved, luv."
Twisted pleasure. Why did the words make her heart ache? "I will," she told him, though Trace's attention was already elsewhere.
"Jerry... are you done with that? Good... I'd like to talk with you ... " Then Trace took Jeremiahh aside while the women got a chance to eat and drink.
