76 - New Years' Aspect Sinister (2) [July 10th, Age 15]

I did my usual. I didn’t have much of a choice, did I? We were right on the edge of the battle itself. There wasn’t any time for reflection—not that there ever really was. Yoru could think whatever he wanted, even if they were things I’d thought myself.

Onward, onward, ever forward.

The second I opened the car door I swept a wave of droplets out wide and tried to get an initial image of the shape of the city block we were near. That was my most vulnerable time—a point before I’d actually familiarized myself with the area, where—for half a second—I was technically still standing alone in the dark.

Since it was so humid, it went faster than normal, but it didn’t change the fact that my sight did not move at the speed of light, and if the New York gang was well-equipped they’d be taking advantage of that. In a lot of ways, it would’ve been better to have brought me here via horse-drawn carriage like a princess. Something slow-moving and open so I wouldn’t have to close my eyes by shutting a car door.

This time, thanks to the weather, it only took me around ten seconds to get a decent-enough picture of where we were. Yoru’d parked between two brick buildings in a narrow-ish strip of pavement that had cars lining either side. Past us was the main road, and beyond that was beyond my caring, but I had enough to start moving forward without feeling like I was setting foot into the great unknown.

Loybol, Cygnus, and Eliza emerged from a car parked a few spots back. Loybol approached with a single wave like she always did, and as soon as she was close enough to speak to Yoru and I without raising her voice, she filled us in on the rest of the plan.

“They won’t snipe at us in broad daylight,” Loybol said. “But just to be safe, you two and Eliza will be keeping track of who’s around. I want to know about everyone walking by who’s doing anything vaguely suspicious. Anyone who’s standing near an open window. There’s going to be a lot, so Erika, you’re in charge of the left side of the street. Look for windows. Yoru, you’ve got the right. Eliza, you take pedestrians.”

Eliza gave a thumbs-up and Yoru and I nodded.

“Once we arrive at the place, Eliza and Yoru are going to stay outside and make sure nobody comes in. Erika, you’re going to come downstairs with Cygnus and I. I’ll only need the two of you to the extent that the hideout is clean and we can be sure I’ll be able to talk to the target unimpeded. Once we’re certain of that, you two go upstairs and guard. Divide the work for that as you see fit. Understood?"

"Got it,” I said, for all of us.

“Great,” Loybol said. I half expected to crack her knuckles, but she didn’t—she simply pointed forward for a second, stuck her hands in her pockets after, and said that magic word: “Onward.”

0  0  0

She was right. They didn’t dare shoot at us in broad daylight. Even though White Plains wasn’t a particularly large city, it still was one. There was still a handful of people around and any witnesses at all were a death-blow to a magical sniper.

It wasn’t an excuse to let our guard down. That much was made abundantly clear—but it did make the mile walk to the plumbers’ building a bit less stressful.

Yoru, Eliza, and I didn’t get to talk much. We had our work cut out for us. Cygnus, however, had plenty of time to make small talk with Loybol like we weren’t there. The two walked in front of us, with myself, Eliza, and Yoru forming the line in the back, and we had plenty of time to just listen to them.

“What exactly are you planning to do to her?” Cygnus asked, as though he didn’t already know the answer.

“Trade secret,” Loybol said. “I’m not talking about that while we’re out here. If you wanted to know, you should’ve asked in the car.”

He shrugged. “Fair.”

They went on in that manner for a while, with Cygnus asking passive, slightly intrusive questions about Loybol and her organization that she opted to answer or not answer seemingly at random, until we arrived at the building in question. I wouldn’t have known it was it without Loybol stopping and announcing, in a low voice, that we there.

If I didn’t know any better I would’ve said it was the same brick building we parked near. We still weren’t quite in the city proper—that was further down the road—but we were close enough to feel it in the distance. All the concrete and cars and glass—it was warmer there, slightly, and that was enough to paint it as a huge glowing red ball in my perception like a distant star.

A sunrise, maybe, or set. I didn’t have the cardinal direction to tell me, and I didn’t want to ask, but I wished I knew.

“Expect chaos when we open that door,” Loybol said, gesturing to something in the distance. It turned out that the building we were going into was the next door down—we didn’t just stop right in front of it like we were window-shopping. Obviously.

Stolen novel; please report.

I nodded, only half paying attention. Yoru didn’t seem all there, either, since he didn’t move or acknowledge the statement at all.

Half a second later he dropped to his knees, scooped a rock off the ground, lobbed it lightly about ten feet in the air, and then shoved it into an open window with his key. The rock smacked into something soft with a little squelch and something crashed to the floor; at which point Loybol turned around and clenched her fist.

Then there was silence. I didn’t know exactly what Loybol did and I didn’t really want to find out.

After a second, Yoru added, “He’s down,” and Loybol nodded.

“See, chaos,” she said. “Good work.”

“Thanks.”

“So they were gonna shoot at us in broad daylight,” Cygnus said, looking up at the window with his hands on his hips. “Good to know.”

“Guy was unarmed,” Yoru said. “But he had a necklace that was vaguely key-shaped and I wasn’t about to wait and see.”

Loybol shrugged. “Better safe than sorry. Are we clear in front?”

I hadn’t noticed anything on the left side of the street, so I nodded, and Eliza said, “Everyone’s all clear,” and Yoru confirmed that for the close side.

And with that, Loybol took point again. “Let’s get inside.”

0  0  0

Loybol took taking point literally. She opened the door and offered herself to whatever may come—but nothing did, and she stepped over the threshold unharmed.

So did we.

Inside the building was about as basic of an office lobby as it can get. In front of us was a reception desk (unoccupied), to the right of which was a staircase heading down, to the left of which was a hallway heading into a back area. Before Loybol could tell me to I’d already sent a cloud of droplets down there to see if anyone was around—and there wasn’t.

Yoru did the same with some gentle breezes for the rest of the room, I figured, and turned up a similar goose egg.

“Is everyone just hiding in the basement?” I asked.

“Maybe,” Loybol replied. “Well, this should be easy. Erika, can you open the door down there?”

“From here?”

“Of course.”

I nodded and sent some water down there, froze a shell around the knob using the screw-hole as purchase, and twisted the door open.

As soon as it swung wide there was a thunder-crack and a bullet flew out of the opening into the staircase, which Cygnus grabbed a hold of as soon as it clattered to a halt and sent it shooting straight back into the room. That was my cue to swing as much moisture as I could manage—which was a lot, given the humidity outside and the open front door—and shoved it all straight down the stairs in one big mass. The rush of water sucked the air out of the room in its wake hard enough to make Yoru wince, and as soon as he’d regained his bearings the cloud had passed him by.

The water entered the single room in the basement and expanded to fill the entirety of it, just so I could tag each person—all five—as present, alive, and full of moisture to grab.

So I did, from where I stood. The water I’d sent down there floated into the center of the room and drew its tithes from the assembled.

There wasn’t anything they could do about it.

Loybol stepped forward and went to the stairs, taking them slowly like they were the palace steps, and I followed behind her. Yoru stayed upstairs with Cygnus and Eliza. This was our show now.

Let them see.

Loybol emerged from the doorway unscathed, untouched. Completely unrattled. Completely in control. I had the five people on their knees gasping for air from parched throats as their life-essences drifted from off their loose tongues like evaporating souls.

This, I figured, was what they’d been told I could do.

Loybol stood about ten feet away from the sphere and its five ghostly tendrils, scanning the people I was destroying for her target. One by one she regarded the writhing, and with a chunk of concrete she’d pulled out of the floor with her key, she put them out of their misery via a single pinpoint rock-shard to the center of their forehead.

Fast enough to pierce the bone. Steady enough not to make that much of a mess.

There was no rush in Loybol’s movements. This was a calculated, slow move, to show the one at the end of the room that all of this—every last plan they’d laid—was worthless.

Laid to rot by complete, total, overwhelming force.

“Let the last one live,” Loybol said to me, once her four guards were gone and we were alone.

I let the tendril coming out of her mouth drop. “Give her a bit of water. I need her alive.”

I did.

“And let the ball go somewhere. We don’t need that anymore.”

Again—I did.

Then Loybol turned to me. “I don’t know how or where, but this is a trap. This should not have been this easy. Go back upstairs and stay on high alert. Send Cygnus down with me and keep Eliza with you. There’s going to be reinforcements and it’s going to get ugly. Okay?”

“Okay.”

“Just shout for him.”

“Cygnus!” I called up the steps. “Showtime!”

“Coming!” he replied, jogging over and down.

I looked back over at Loybol again and said to her, “Good luck.”

Loybol stood at ease, legs slightly apart, and from the tips of her fingers dripped that black liquid I’d seen her use before. Face without expression. She was a statue against time. Immovable.

I knew where this was going and I did not want to see it again—and feeling that in the wake of what I’d just done to the people in this room made me pause. Why this instead of that? What was the difference, really? Surely, then, this was theater too. Crocodile tears. Performative remorse for performative warfare.

If that was the case, then, it only made sense. One turn deserved another—if that was the case, then, it was perfect.

Loybol replied to me only with half a side-glance and a thumbs-up.

She approached the terrified figure collapsed on the ground and I turned around and abandoned them there.