Friday
Picture 2
Muse Calliope's Choice: Picture 1
Title:
And that was when the human walked in. Middle-aged and greying, he was dressed in the security uniform with a radio and stun-gun thingy clipped to his belt and a big heavy flashlight grasped in one hand. For a moment, no one moved. The mortal stood there looking from beastkin to vampire to shade and finally settled on the necromancer standing in the middle of an obvious spell circle with the ghost. Naturally, he pressed the alarm button on his radio’s quicker than you could blink and backpedalled out of the room so fast you’d have thought his pants were on fire.
Savannah sighed. “I thought you said security came through here every twenty minutes. That wasn’t twenty minutes; that was like five.”
Croix rubbed at the back of his neck and shrugged sheepishly. “It’s supposed to be every twenty minutes.”
“Perhaps when you erected and then removed the shield it disrupted their routines,” Dumitru suggested. “In any case, it hardly matters now. Lumina mea, if you would hurry?”
Savannah sighed again and turned her focus back to the ghost. Suddenly, she had her hand on the back of his neck and was pulling his face down to her. Before Trinity could blink Savannah had her lips locked on Jester’s and was kissing him, her power flaring around her like a flashing inferno, so bright and intense Trinity could feel it like a strike of lightning. It seemed to last forever but ended all of the sudden. Savannah stumbled back, away from Jester, and was barely caught by Dumitru before she slumped to the ground. The ghost, meanwhile, was no longer a ghost.
He was a wraith – a ghost made corporeal by the power and will of a necromancer. He was also crumpled into an unconscious heap on the ground.
Trinity cursed.
Savannah smiled grimly and carefully got back on her feet, albeit leaning heavily on Dumitru for support. “Alright then, I think we’ve overstayed our welcome. Trinity, you have a choice; stay and take your chances with the nice pitchfork-bearing villagers or come along with us back to...”
“Germany,” Dumitru supplied.
“Germany,” Savannah agreed.
“And the strings?” Somewhere in the castle Trinity could sense Security getting ready, prepping their weapons, donning their armour, mumbling their pep talks. More importantly, she could feel the lights turning on, feel the shadows recede, fade. She was screwed. But she still wanted to know what sort of chains her rescue would have her clapped in, thank you very much.
“I’ll need a favour. Trinity, I must act quickly; creating a wraith isn’t as easy as I made it look and I only have so much power left. Decide. Now.”
Trinity snorted. “Like there’s really any choice to be made; I don’t want to die. Choice made. The end. Let’s go.”
Savannah grinned and clapped her hands excitedly like a little girl. “Oh, yay, a wraith and a shade all in one day. We should come to Prague more often.”
“Let’s not,” Croix suggested, grimacing. “Not a fan of the architecture.”
“Good point. Alright, fasten your seat belt, Trinity, 'cause Kansas is going bye-bye now.”
Don’t let the movies fool you; teleportation is not as fun and easy as Harry Potter, Sabrina and Nightcrawler make it look. Trinity had no idea how it felt for Savannah, but as far as she was concerned it was like riding a too-fast, out-of-control roller coaster while being ripped apart and put back together over and over and over again. And then - BAM! – it was over.
Trinity found herself in a sunken living room of some mansion straight out of that Bond movie – um, Diamonds Are Forever? Maybe? Trinity could never keep them all straight. Savannah staggered up the shallow the steps, across the room to the sliding glass that led out onto the balcony and promptly leaned over the edge to retch. Repeatedly.
“It’s because she used too much energy,” Croix explained matter-of-factly as he moved to lay the newly created wraith on the sectional sofa. “That’s also why the human walked in on us; she had to drop her shield in order to create the wraith.”
“Great,” Trinity said half-heartedly, once again resisting the impulse to roll her eyes. “Well, I’ll just scamper off then, be on my way and all that. Ciao.”
“Wait.” Savannah stumbled back inside, leaned against the nearest wall and slid down to sit on the floor, her forehead pressed against her knees. "Argh, I hate magic overload; it's like having the plague and the flu and allergies and twenty other things all at once. So very, very, very not fun. Argh. Oh, and you owe me a favour, Trinity, remember?"
Trinity hadn't forgotten; she'd just been hoping Savannah had. Sighing, she nodded and gestured for Savannah to get one with it; she had other places to be, after all.
"Don't look so frightened, Trin; all I want - all I need - is a mask."
"A mask?"
"Hm, yes, it's white with gold trim and filigree design and emerald accents. Oh, and it has a big red flower at its upper right corner. It doesn't even cover the whole face, just the eyes."
"Uh-huh, and why do you want this mask?"
Savannah shrugged, the picture of innocence. "I had to leave home in a hurry and it got left behind. There’s a quirk to it and I need it back before my stepmother finds it and figures out what it can do.”
“And what can it do?”
“That’s irrelevant. Croix will be going with you, just FYI; he knows where to go and a bunch of other stuff that might prove useful to you. All you have to do is get in, find my mask and bring it back to me. So, we good?”
Trinity was positive there was some catch or secret or something that was going to come back to bite her in the ass. She just KNEW it. But, damn it, a deal’s a deal. “We’re good,” she gritted out.
Three hundred fucking years old - she really should have known better than to jinx herself.
A/N: To be continued next week!
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