FLASHBACK - (INTERLUDE)
LONDON, ENGLAND
LIBRARY OF MYSTIC AND WICCAN TEXTS
PRIVATE ROOMS
There was banging on the door. Vicky turned, looking at the door, which was by now rattling on its hinges. Jesse looked up from one of the pieces of paper she was sketching Vicky's wings on. Sierra rested her hand on the hilt of her dagger.
Crow glanced at them. It was past midnight, and the rest of the League had gone home. Sloane was out hunting, taking a little blood from the unwary horses in nearby stables.
Jesse pointed up. Vicky nodded, taking off from her spot on the table and hovering near the ceiling. Crow slowly and carefully nocked his bow, pointing the business end of it at the door. Even if it was one of the League, they dared not take chances. The locator spell might have given the baddies a clue as to where they were.
Jesse put down her sketch and stood up, heading towards the door. Sierra retreated into the shadows of the room, waiting to pounce on her prey should they be unwelcome. Her eyes flashed feral yellow.
Jesse opened the door.
A man of about thirty years stood there, looking like something from out of a modern fantasy story. Long hair that might once have been dark, but now was dotted with greys and whites. He had on a long coat that swept his ankles when he walked, and the shirt he wore inside was a dirty white. His companion was a brute; typical stuff that Cockney thugs were made of. Brawn and maybe brains, but that wasn't clear. A scar ran down from his forehead down to his left cheek, and she shuddered, immediately on guard.
Before any of her friends could open their mouths to speak, the one with the scar spoke.
"And I'm assuming you are in cahoots with the League of so-called Extraordinary Gentlemen?"
Vicky was enraged. 'League of so-called Extraordinary Gentlemen'?! she thought. Skinner is extraordinary. He's cute, funny, and really — She stopped short. She had to keep her feelings for Skinner out of the way.
Jesse was the one who answered, very cautiously, "What has it to do with you?"
The other one with the coat looked up, and although he couldn't see her from where he stood, Vicky had to suppress a shudder. There was something in his gray eyes that freaked her...something like cruelty, but worse than that. Sadism, maybe.
Scar-face just laughed, something that sounded like a cat being pulled under a carriage. "Well, luv, it has a-plenty to do with us."
Suddenly they opened fire. Scar-face drew a pistol and started firing while Jesse leapt for cover. His friend had magicks on his side, and blue balls of flame flew around the room, chasing their targets. Crow let loose a hailstorm of arrows on the intruders and Sierra gave a snarl as she evaded the never-ending bullets to the attackers. She realized that the gun had to be enchanted, or else the magazine would have finished already at the rate he was going.
With a frightful screech, Vicky swept down and slashed at Scar-face and his friend. The one with the gun aimed up and nicked her, a single feather falling to the ground as she swerved to avoid the bullet. It reflected the light and she realized, with a start, that it was silver. That could do lots of damage, she thought. She had to be more careful. Swooping and drawing her daggers, she almost lain open one of their faces when a bullet pierced her wing. Hot, searing pain shot up one wing and up her back. She screamed; her wings were durable, but sensitive, as she plummeted to the ground. Pain overcame her, blinding her.
A sickening snap as the bone broke. Already she was blinded; dimly, she hit something hard and went down. She then realized that it was a bookshelf when thousands of little bombs fell on her. It hurt like hell; her lip split and she knew that she was bruised badly. She was totally buried in the mini-avalanche, and it hurt.
Dimly, she saw Scar-face's friend draw a sword and Jesse appeared out of nowhere, another sword in hand. She and the baddie started to exchange powerful blows. Then, the darkness took her, mercifully, as Jesse became a sick version of a kebab.