To IOU, yes, I've been writing short chapters. Hey- it's my vacation, and I'm nearly half a world from home. If I forget to update I give you permission to annoy me with reviews until I do.
Sybil fought beside Joan and Germaine, and she thought that they were doing rather well. Until, as they were fighting, a Disir brushed her arm. A cold pain shot up her arm and down her spine. She gasped, and the Disir shot her an evil smile. She glanced down at her arm, and was shocked to see the skin turn an icy black. She used her aura to heal it, but found that she couldn't. the skin on the top healed over, but it still hurt like crazy. While she was distracted, the Disir smacked her across the face and went flying.
"Sybil!" Joan looked over, in a lull of the fighting. "Are you okay?"
"I'm fine," she shouted, gritting her teeth, as a drop of blood ran down the side of her face. "Goddy Disir." The pain was making her head spin, and the hints of a completely foreign accent
"What?"
"Ignore me," Sybil said, struggling to stand, "I'm just along for the ride, yeah?" The Disir facing her hissed, in a sort of derisive laughter. Then she screamed as Sybil slammed the blade of her aura-created sword into her face.
Both immortal and Disir fell to the floor, the first unconscious, the second dead. The Disir took a look at their fallen comrade, and they vanished. There was a heavy silence.
"Where'd they go?" Germaine asked. "Why'd they go?"
"Je ne sais pas," Joan said, " I don't know. Is Sybil alright?"
They were crouched by the immortal's side, and Germaine was trying to find where she was hit. "There's a cut on her head, but it isn't deep. I have no idea why she passed out." He used a ripped piece of his shirt to bandage the wound. "She'll be fine."
"And what of Scatty? Do you think she survived?" Joan looked anxiously to the direction of the house. I haven't seen her, but I can't hear the Nidhogg anymore."
"You go and check on her," Germaine told her, "I'll stay with Sybil and try to find that blasted Alchemist. I'm sure Scatty is all right- she was with Perry." But he was already talking Joan's back, as she hurried down the street. Germaine pulled out a phone, then nearly dropped it as Sybil screamed.
"Good God, what-? Sybil!" He shook her. "Wake up!"
The girl was asleep, but she had broken into a cold sweat, and was thrashing around, mumbling. Germaine looked up and down the street, trying to find a place that he could put her. He saw the figure of two people- Joan, supporting another woman- coming down the street. On closer inspection, he saw that it was Perenelle, and not Scatty. His heart sank as he got up and ran to the pair.
Niccolo Machiavelli came down the street, and stooped by the unconscious form of Sybil. Her scooped her up, and slid into the waiting car, where John Dee hit the gas pedal and shot down the street.
Sybil groaned as she woke up. The world seemed to be spinning as she tried to stand. Someone pushed her back down. "You're not well enough to stand," came a voice. "Lie back down." The sound of Machiavelli's voice sent Sybil into panic. She pushed him away, and stood, head reeling.
"Why are you here?" Just saying the four words made Sybil stagger against the wall. "No- why am I here?"
"Shh, calm down Soren."
Sybil flinched at the name. "Don't call me that, cousin." Then she slid down the wall to sit on the floor. Niccolo crouched in front of her.
"I'll call you whatever I want- I've got the upper hand here, Soar. Why do you call everyone cousin? As far as I know, we're not related." He had a feral grin on his face, then grew serious. "You've been declared utlaga."
"Yeah, I have."
"So have we, Dee and I." Sybil stared at the man, shock briefly flashing across her face. "We haven't been able to catch the twins, and our masters have grown nervous, what with Dare and you."
Sybil stiffened. "Dare is the last person I want to see. Don't tell me she's here as well."
"No, just Dee." He offered her a hand, and after a second, she took it and pulled herself up. "You've been hit by one of the Disir."
"Who you unleashed on me, thanks," she said, trying to walk, and staggering into Machiavelli. He caught her, but she pushed him away. She was mortified that she couldn't even stand properly. Especially in front of Niccolo Machiavelli, of all people. "I don't need your help."
"You obviously do." Machiavelli was years older than the girl, who at the moment was only 26, but for a moment, he looked way younger. "Admit it Soar," he said childishly, "you need my help."
She ignored him, and sat on the edge of the bed.
"I've told you, I never accepted your apology." She finally spoke, after the world had stopped spinning around her.
"I've told you, You're stuck with me to the end of the line," Machiavelli didn't face her, and stared out the window. "Whether you like it or not."