The hair on the back of her neck stood on end, giving her pause as the feeling registered. It had been weeks since she last felt that sensation, and it only ever meant one thing.
She quickened her pace and zipped up her jacket, pulling its hood up over her head as she moved through the busy city streets with haste.
"N'chao" She murmured in annoyance. Things had been going so well.
Closing her eyes briefly, she allowed a wisp of her magic to flow over her. It was a simple, yet profoundly useful illusion spell. She had used it often to avoid the unwanted attention of city guards, and of her marks.
Now enveloped she did her best to blend in. The spell influenced the minds of those around her, made her hard to focus on and therefore hard to see. But it was fragile. Once focus was attracted, the spell was broken.
Hoping to minimize the chance of that happening, she moved to the rhythm of the crowd, weaving in and out between them, ever forward. How she missed the natural cover of night.
But no one made eye contact with her for many blocks. It was working. Another perk of these large cities, she supposed. So many busy people who didn't want to be bothered.
Feeling more secure she began to take quick glimpses around her. Children with their parents; groups of tourists; the occasional drunk. No one stood out, though the feeling remained.
A sudden push against her landed her on the floor.
"Watch where you're fucking going!" It was an older woman who now sat on the pavement in front of her.
"Apologies." She muttered through gritted teeth, all the while cursing herself for being so careless.
After a few moments, she felt a chill run down her spine and a thought dawned on her; her spell was broken. The woman jabbered on in the background while she stood herself up. She looked up and about her, a strange feeling of apprehension grabbing hold of her. There. For a moment, between the crowd. She saw him.
"N'wah." She said, turning towards the opposite direction and running.
She made a hard right into an alleyway. Had he seen her? She growled under her breath. If he hadn't seen her, he'd certainly heard the woman yelling after her as she left. She briefly wished she had stuck a dagger in her before running off.
"Too many people." She reminded herself. "Just keep moving."
Quickly she made her way through the narrow alleyways. Her trained footfalls were silent, but the pounding of her heartbeat was loud in her ears. It was a foreign feeling for her. She didn't like it.
It was only noon, but she was exhausted; sleep deprived. She didn't recognize these streets, but she kept on, more and more being driven by instinct than foresight.
She could feel him. Like being stared at from across the room. She pushed herself. Faster. Further. A left here. A right there.
"S'wit." She cursed herself. If only she could just teleport. It was how she'd gotten away before, but now... now she was weak. This place she was in was unlike any other she'd been to before. Magic did not flow freely here. What she came with was all that she had, and her reserves were growing low.
She realized too late the warning signs around her. High walls, chainlink fences, fewer and fewer shops and residences.
Turning another corner, there it was. A dead end.
She stopped, nearly out of breath, and walked towards the brick wall at the other end. Too tall to hop, no footholds for climbing. Briefly she contemplated turning around and finding another way. But she knew it was too late. Instead, she rested her forehead on the cold brick before her, her hands clenched into fists.
When an audible breeze sounded behind her a moment later, she growled and pounded her fist against the wall. How could *she* be cornered? How could *she* wind up the skeever in the trap? *She* was Cey Varo, damn it.
"I must congratulate you." She heard behind her.
She turned, her frustration plain on her face.
"No one has ever eluded me for so long."
It was him. The one that'd been chasing her for months.
"I don't know what the higher ups want with you, but it's easy to see why they do." She narrowed her eyes at him. He ignored her. "Being able to handle yourself against an angel, that's no small feat." He smiled. "Though, unsurprisingly, you're not quite up to par."
The statement infuriated her. And while she hated to admit it, it was true. She had handled her own at first, but this 'divine' as he called himself, had proven impossible to kill. And she had wasted a good deal of her magic trying. In the end she had opted to run, to hide, to wait.
It was why she had come to this city. To hide - and to find allies. After their last encounter, she had taken it upon herself to do some research. Luckily, libraries existed here as well. And while they didn't have magic, they did possess a kind of technology that made the process relatively quick.
Unfortunately, there was a lot of information. Information that ranged from sacrosanct religion to bloodied histories to muddled philosophy. She didn't know what was fact and what was fiction. Eventually she found herself in a corner of "the web" that spoke of these angels as not saints, but psychopaths. It was there that she heard a rumor of a group that were fighting against them.
She had been trying to contact them for several weeks while she moved from city to city, making her way here. So far, no answer.
At least the hiding had gone well. For a while. Illusion magic was a far simpler kind of magic, not as resource-intensive. But in the end - here they were. Again. She was beginning to suspect that her dwindling power is what was making her more and more visible to whatever it was he used to track her.
She glared at him and he cocked his head. In amusement, she ventured.
"Seeing as you're still standing here, I'm guessing that little disappearing trick won't be an issue this time, will it?"
She stood herself up straight, and pulled a dagger from her jacket.
He sighed.
"I had hoped you'd come willingly this time. But if I must subdue you first, so be it." He widened his arms. "Come, I'll give you the first shot. A freebie, as these humans say."
She narrowed her eyes. He'd soon regret those words. She wasn't going to make this easy.
She ran at him, blade gripped firmly, expertly, in her hand. This was her last chance, she knew, and she aimed to make the most of it. With one fell thrust, she plunged her dagger into the center of his forehead.
She watched as his face went slack and his body slid from her blade to the floor.
She stepped back a few paces, surprised. Last time she had stabbed the blade into his heart - and he had just stood there, smiling.
"Are you Cey Varo?" She turned, dagger ready and directed at the sudden voice behind her. He put his hands up, defensively. "It's alright, I'm here to help."
She eyed him up and down. He wore a brown trenchcoat atop a white dress shirt and brown slacks. She wasn't sure what to make of him.
"Help who?" She asked, thinking of the heap behind her.
"You. Please, we must go before he gets back up."
She half-lowered the weapon as her eyes widened at the thought. He couldn't. Not after that. Could he? She glimpsed the brick wall behind this stranger.
"Wait. No. Wait." She stammered, trying to think straight. "Where did you come from? Just now."
The man sighed, suppressed frustration. "You're wasting time." He said. Putting his hands down he walked towards her, no sign of fear or worry on his face. No sign of concern for the weapon she held.
"You're one of them." She realized aloud.
He reached for her; she twisted away and around him, using the momentum of the motion to speed the swing of her dagger. She'd put him down, too. For a brief moment she felt triumphant. Then he caught her by the wrist, the blade just inches from the side of his head.
"Quite the blade dancer, isn't she?" The voice was accompanied by a small laugh and smaller groan.
They both turned towards it in unison.
"If I had known you were going for my head, I wouldn't have given you the freebie." He was standing now, and smiling. A small mixture of brain matter and blood was still visible on his forehead; it was the only sign that she had done him any damage. He wiped at it, and it was gone.
"Castiel." The angel said with eerie glee. "So good to see you again." He seemed to examine him for a moment. "You look, well."
"Stay behind me." Castiel said to her, using his arm to push her back. She didn't object. "But stay close."
"Jacob." He started, an unusual silver dagger falling from his sleeve to his hand. "Leave now and no harm will come to you."
The angel frowned. "It's always straight to threats and fighting with you, Castiel. Can't we talk this out?" He feigned hurt feelings.
Castiel seemed to consider his options. "Why does heaven want her?"
Jacob sighed. "I was thinking more along the lines of a trade. You know, you give us the girl and maybe you can... come home?"
"I've been given that choice before. My answer has not changed. So please, answer the question."
Jacob laughed. "You obviously haven't seen what she can do." He paused, glancing at her. "Or rather, could do."
Castiel glanced at her, interest evident on his face.
It was then that the angel attacked. In the fraction of a second he had a silver dagger in his hand, the same as she had seen in Castiel's, and lunged. He moved with remarkable speed, taking him mere moments to close the gap between them.
But Castiel was quicker. In what felt like the same breath, he pushed her out of the way, dodged, and slashed the other angel on the arm as he passed.
Jacob growled. She watched with great interest as the wound glowed a bright white for several moments.
Her gaze flicked between the daggers they wielded. She was transfixed by them, their silver glittering beautifully in the sunlight. She watched them as they danced through the air. Another flash of light. She recalled having read of something similar. Another flash. A cone-shaped spear. Another. An angel blade.
By the time she remembered the obscure piece of writing she had read on some forum or other and returned her concentration to what was happening before her, she found herself greeted with an exceptionally wounded Jacob.
"You can't keep up with me, brother." Castiel said, looking not at all fatigued. "Please," he begged, "stop this."
Jacob looked defeated, angry. He was standing, his shoulders hanging and his stance wide to support him. He looked down at his hands. She realized they were empty.
She quickly scanned the area around her. There, not far from her, was the dagger. She slowly made her way towards it.
Jacob sighed. "I can't let you have her." He said.
She reached down and pocketed the dagger.
He pulled out another.
This one was much shorter, black, with what looked like dried blood on it.
"That can't hurt me." Castiel said.
Jacob looked pointedly at her. "I know."
Her earlier maneuvering for the blade left her closer to him than Castiel to her. Had it been a trap? The self-assured grin on his face seemed to confirm the brief thought.
They both moved for her. She knew who'd reach her first. She lifted her hands, a spell beginning to form in one hand and the blade in the other.
He was but a foot from her when the spell took hold. She watched as the thrust of his blade slowed before her. She pulled her left leg back and swung her right shoulder forward to avoid it. She wasn't quick enough. It caught under her jacket, slicing along and over her left clavicle to her shoulder. He must have been aiming for her heart.
With his hand and the knife still caught in her jacket, she grabbed his wrist with one hand plunged the angel blade into his stomach with the other.
A bright white light blinded her for a moment. When it cleared, the angel lay at her feet, eyes seemingly burned out of his head.
"He's really dead now, right?" She asked.
Castiel nodded, a look of remorse on his face. "We should go." He muttered.
"No, no. You still haven't told me who you are."
He sighed. "I'm Castiel."
"Castiel. Brother of that thing," she motioned to the heap before her, "I got that part. Tell me something I don't know. Why should I go with you?"
"I'm here to help. You've been trying to contact us."
The group she'd heard of. She was beginning to wonder if they were real. "You're a hunter?"
"I, yes. No. I work with hunters."
She'd been running for months. Alone. It was hard to trust anyone right now. She looked back at the remains of Jacob. He had just helped her. She looked back up at Castiel. If he wasn't really here to help, there was nothing she could actually do about it.
"Ok." She said. She'd go willingly now and weigh her options later.