1st Intas, 2720
COOKS | LATE NIGHT
COOKS | LATE NIGHT
It was, thankfully, not snowing this wintery Clocks Eve. Around Vienda, families were celebrating the turn of the year. Twenty seven twenty, the cycle begins anew for those who pray to Alioe and the Ten. Anaxas celebrates itself with drink and dance and merriment, ignorant of the shady going’s on above their heads.
“It’s so pretty.” Emelia muttered as she stared into the clouded night sky, watching the bursts of color fill the air as the fireworks announced the official start of the year. Her hands were shoved in pockets of a grey jacket far too big for her, dark straight locks cut short to her jawline, exposing the scar across her face and vibrant green eyes. Eyes that caught the pinks and golds and blues of the explosions. She stood beside the assassin, who held her arm as though the teenager would flee given the chance.
“We’re not here to watch the show, kid.” Alyssa said sharply, her piercing blue gaze scanning the surrounding area for the man of the hour, heart in her chest. High Judge Azmus, he had said this was the time. This was the place. Clocks Eve, the roof top of Cooks. As ever, perhaps even more now than ever, the Resistance leader of present had her people stationed in the buildings around. Sharpshooters, wick castors and marksmen. People who could take a golly down should they attempt to turn the tables.
Should they arrive without Jon Serro.
Emelia scowled, looking at the woman who she now knew as her aunt, though there was no love between them. Neither the teen nor the woman knew each other enough, Alyssa cold and aloof, almost afraid of the younger. It wasn’t fear of her though, but rather fear of what she saw there.
Frances. There, in the line of a youthful jaw, in the wide green eyes. It hurt, on so many levels, to see the ghost of her sister before her.
“No, that’s right. We’re here so you can send me to my death.” She said with contempt, causing Alyssa’s jaw to clench. It was unfair on Emelia. A girl hidden away from the world, raised in brothels and crime houses, foster homes and families who were paid to keep her secret. Moved whenever the danger to her was imminent. Ceres knew of her, he’d been the one to arrange her homes, damn that bastard golly. He’d known all along, and hadn’t said a word.
But then, so had Jon.
Shaking the thoughts away, the Wisp frowned.
“I don’t have a choice. You know that.” The younger simply shook her head and looked away again.
“He’s late.” Alyssa said quietly, the cold of her dagger pressed against the inside of her arm as she looked around. Had he changed his mind? Had he forgotten?
Had he killed Jon?
The assassin’s face darkened, and she sucked her teeth. Emelia snorted, amused and disgusted all at once.
“You were stupid to think he’d come.” She spat, hating the brunette for handing over to William Azmus like some prize pig. Emmie should be used to it, no one cared about her. She was just a pawn in a much larger game that she had no say in. It would have been pointless to protest, and there was nowhere to run. Alyssa and her goons would just find her and drag her back, or Azmus would. There was nowhere in the world for Emelia.
Just for once though, she had thought…well it didn’t matter what she thought anymore really.
Quite suddenly, the door to the roof top opened, and there darkening the threshold was a tall shape dressed in a warm winter cloak and black clothing. Black greying hair brushed all aback, with a severely shaped beard. His face was distinctly aristocratic and his blue eyes full of disgust.
“Alyssa Pierre, my, my, my. I have wanted, for so long, to meet you. And here we are.” Damen D’Arthe said as he stepped onto the rooftop, hands in his own pockets, eyes on the two women. The blue eyed human dragged Emelia back slightly, holding her away from the galdori, as she waited for more people to come. The teenager couldn’t help but glare, her eyes wide and heart racing as she looked at the man standing there in all his pompous glory. So long, had she been dragged from place to place, hiding and escaping from the animal that was her father.
This was not him.
The Wisp narrowed her eyes whilst the Captain made a show of stepping onto the roof, looking around at the other buildings where he no doubt knew she had people. No doubt he did too.
She waited.
And waited.
“Where is he, D’Arthe?” Alyssa asked without preamble, gaze flitting to the High Judge with a narrowing accusation. The galdor chuckled and lifted his hands as though to tell her to have patience.
“Who Azmus? Well, he couldn’t very well come here again on his own could he. Who knows what you really have planned? There was an agreement, of course, which I am tasked with completing.” Gesturing in the doorway, Damen revealed two men. One was dressed in Anaxi Armed Forces greens, bloodied and filthy, his head covered by a hessian sack and hands bound at the wrists. Alyssa’s stomach flipped, and her heart skipped a beat. Gods, what had they done to him?
The other was an officer with greasy black hair and an uncomfortable leer, eyes a dirty green and field almost oozing with a sense of creepiness. Alyssa frowned.
“I didn’t take a Seventen Captain as a lapdog to the High Judge.” Damen looked at her with blatent contempt, his teeth grit in his own rising ire.
“Watch your tongue, you piece of chrove shite. Azmus is the only reason I don’t take you in here and now.” He spat back, field flexing with rage. He held his hand to the Seventen Officer, shaking his head and gesturing to have the hooded figure brought forward. Emelia glanced at the man, frowning deeply in a mirror image of her aunt. Damen suddenly smiled like the cat that had found the cream as his gaze swept to the teenager, standing sullenly beside Alyssa.
“Well now, aren’t you the spitting image of your father.” The galdori said with a sneer, looking over her like he was studying a specimen under a microscope, and the girl would feel the caprice of his field against her like some thick ooze. She wanted to gag.
“Ugh, you reek. Wick trash.” He said with a shudder, before looking at the Officer and shaking his head.
“Let’s do this.” Damen turned, reaching a hand out to Emelia as he gsetured for the officer to bring the hooded man forward. The bound man grunted, muffled under the rough fabric and Alyssa tilted her head slightly, holding Emelia back. The teenager frowned, looking at the assassin.
“Now Pierre, we had a dea—”
“Take off the hood.” She said coldly, feeling a stirring in the pit of her stomach. Damen’s temple throbbed and his eyes darkened. In a moment, everything changed. The officer shoved the hooded figure at Alyssa, and the man stumbled into her, as Damen snapped a sharp syllable. Emelia was pulled in a suction of magic energy, the mona tugging her into Damen’s arms. As Alyssa tumbled down, the officer was drawing his field as Damen already began to take off down the stairs. Gunshots sounded from around them, and a bullet burst through the un-named officer who’s field snuffed out like a gusted candle. Scrambling to her feet, Alyssa dragged the hood off the man, screaming her rage.
A stranger looked back at her with wide eyes and gagged mouth.
Fireworks exploded in the sky, the sound of gunshots and screams hidden by the sounds of Clocks Eve. Alyssa ran to the edge of the building, seeing Damen dragging Emelia with him out of the front door of Cooks. She didn’t hesitate, taking a running leap to catch the guttering of the next building, dragging herself onto the roof and racing along the tiling with one eye on the Seventen below. He was trying to loose himself and Emelia in the crowds, headed for the bustling Kingsway Market. Alyssa made her way across the rooftops, following along, and up onto the dome that covered the festival filled courtyard. She could see Damen and Emelia through the glass, the teenager tugging to free herself whilst the Seventen looked around for the assassin. There in the crowd there were more Seventen approaching, ready to assist their Captain in his arrest. A gaol carriage was already waiting, and Alyssa knew if Emelia got in there, that was it. The game was over.
But if she seemingly attacked a Seventen Captain, in the middle of Kingsway Market, with all those other gollies around there was a certainty of death.
Clock it. What else did she have to loose anymore?
Following the curve of a girder, Alyssa made her way to the edge of the dome, dropping down and catching herself with a roll before standing up. Her blades were already hidden in her hands, as she slipped through the crowd rapidly towards the Seventen who were placing cuffs on Emelia. People were noticing, gossiping under their breath—filthy human probably making ill on Clocks Eve, the audacity. Good on the Seventen for keeping the streets clean. Shifting the grasp on her blade, Alyssa prepared to throw one, aiming for Damen D’Arthe. At least if she killed the head of the snake, the rest of the uncles and aunties would be in disarray.
CRACK!
A gunshot sounded, this time clear as day over the fireworks. People in the market screamed in shock, fields a mess of panic, and one of the Seventen officers grunted as a bullet whizzed past his ear. There was yelling and screaming and running, the public fearing the riots all over again. Alyssa turned, catching familiar faces running towards the fray not from it. Her allies in the windows, finally catching up.
Damn it!
A thickening of the air was the only warning she had, as the Captain cast a heavy press of gravity across the courtyard. The brunette grunted as her legs gave way, falling to her knees at the pressure. Public and Resistance alike followed suit, falling to their knees or flat to the ground.
“Kill her.” Damen D’Arthe’s voice snapped from over the top of everyone, a snarl of rage and hate. Alyssa could sense another field gathering, and static electricity lifted the hairs on her arms. Voices cried out in shock, and fear. Amongst them, she could hear Emelia.
She should have been kinder.
Closing her eyes, the Wisp faced her death, wishing for all the world things were different. For Jon, for Emelia, for the Resistance.
Something unexpected happened then. Even afterwards, Alyssa would struggle to explain what really happened. It was like, all the fields around them were being dragged towards Damen and Emelia. Like something large was inhaling deeply, sucking all the mona and magic in with it. The galdori and handful of wicks around the area shrieked in shock as that which was like a sixth sense to them seemed to be stolen, swept into a building singularity. The assassin felt Damens spell dissipate, pushing herself up to look. There was a strong wind tugging on her hair, sucking loose paper and leaves with it, swirling around the Captain and his prisoner. A strange feeling seemed to be emanating from the teenager, a field unlike anything Alyssa had been subjected to before. It felt…wrong.
WHOOMP!
The suction reversed, exploding outward in a shockwave that knocked those closest to Emelia off their feet, and those castors in the area would feel the mona escape in earnest as would happen in a particularly nasty brail. No one could cast, at least, not for a while. Alyssa didn’t wait to figure out what had happened, rushing towards Emelia who was out cold. Damen D’Arthe had been knocked back, groaning though not knocked out. Scooping the girl up, Alyssa shoved her in the back of the gaol carriage, before moving to take the reigns. The Seventen who had been manning it were laid out on the cobblestone, and would be nursing headaches when they awoke. Flicking the reigns, the Resistance leader pushed the moas into a run, wanting to get away from Kingsway as fast as she could. She didn’t think, she just drove the carriage, taking winding streets as far from the city center as she could. When she felt she was far enough, Alyssa pulled to a stop, flinging the door open and tugging Emelia out. She grunted, throwing the young woman over one shoulder and smacking the moa’s feathery necks to scare them into a run, empty carriage bouncing along behind them. Hefting her through the night, between alleys and pathways, Alyssa made her way to the nearest safehouse.
“Who’s—oh my!” The young pink haired witch who lived at the property began, her eyes widening at the sight of Alyssa and the girl. She stepped aside to let them in, locking the door and checking the shutters were closed as the Wisp put Emelia down on the floor. Panting, she stared at the unconscious teen, taking a minute to get her bearings.
“What’s happened chip, if ye don’t mind my askin’? Weren’t expectin’ anyone t’night.” The witch said quietly, biting her thumbnail with a concerned frown. The brunette looked at her, and shook her head.
“I—I’m not sure. I just need a minute. Once she’s awake, we’ll be out of your hair.” Alyssa frowned, rubbing her face and hunching down.
It was all a set up. There was no trade. Azmus had played her for a fool. Now there was nothing else for it.
Alyssa had to break Jon out. Before it was too late.
