"Damn cat!" she yells as her vision clears. It doesn't make her heart beat
any less fast, and she glares at the feline who skips out of the room
soundlessly. "Amon," she grates, and doesn't care if she sounds as whiny
as Doujima, "let's get out of here. This place is a bust."
"No, she's here," he says implacably.
Kate sighs loudly and hopes she rattles his earpiece. "Fine. Okay. Let's just chase our tails," and the cat's glowing eyes wink at her, "or cats, okay? We might as well be chasing ghosts."
Out of nowhere, Amon comes into view. "Is that what you think?"
Automatically, Kate's finger is on the trigger. "Don't do that!" she glares at him. "Do you want me to shoot you?"
He looks as calm, or emotionless, as ever, damn him, despite having a gun in his face. "You sure you're up to this?" he asks without any hint of concern. "Takeda got to you, too."
"I'm fine," she snaps, lowering her gun. "I'm just surprised I haven't seen the target yet."
"Perhaps she's seen us." He looks around the moonlit room, and the trees outside trace mottled shadows with the wind. "Perhaps she's just waiting to strike."
"You sure know how to make a girl feel better," she says sourly. "All right," she says, and checks her weapon before marching forward, despite every fiber of her being screaming against it. She can't hear his footsteps behind her, and again, the thought he might be using a cat-like Craft comes to mind.
When she finally does turn around to check on him, he's gone. Fine. Great. Be like that. Kate sets her jaw and narrows her gray eyes, her Craft in full force. She brushes her long hair away from her face and forces her hands to hold the gun steady in front of her as she goes deeper into the heart of the house. Her quick, unsteady steps matches the nervous beat of her heart, and, despite her previous experience on hunts, she feels more like the hunted than the hunter.
Her heart hammering in her chest, Kate nudges the torn paper door open with her gun. Her weapon pointing in all directions, her breathing coming in shallow gasps, she looks desperately for the target. More than anything, she wants this hunt to be over. She knows she's behaving irrationally, fearfully, but she doesn't care. This place is freaking her out. "Amon," she says in a shaky voice, then clears it, "Amon! There's nobody here."
No answer. Okay. Breathe, Kate, breathe. "Michael," she tries again, then taps her earpiece. The damn thing is dead. It's probably the witch, she thinks, pulling out her communicator hastily and drops it. "Dammit," she mutters, making her shaking fingers hit the right buttons. Nothing. Oh no. This is bad. "Michael," she whispers, as if it would help, then chucks the useless piece of technology to the floor. Quickly, she scans the room again, finding only roach and rat droppings, which doesn't make her feel any better. Where is the witch?
Walking out of the room, Kate finds herself acting like some stupid bimbo in a horror flick, her eyes wide, her breathing fast and shallow, and stumbling over her feet. Her arms are shaking in spite of her best efforts to keep them steady, and, with some relief, sees the front door. She doesn't care if she's being a wimp, she's getting out of there. The long- haired woman shoves her feet into her boots, frowning as she taps her earpiece. Stupid gadget, she thinks, tossing it aside as well.
Finally, she tries for simple aural contact, feeling a little braver now that she's out of that damn house. "Amon, I don't see her," she calls out, not caring if her shout makes her a target for the witch. "Where are you?"
"Right here," the man in black says, stepping out from behind a tree, aiming his weapon at her.
"No, she's here," he says implacably.
Kate sighs loudly and hopes she rattles his earpiece. "Fine. Okay. Let's just chase our tails," and the cat's glowing eyes wink at her, "or cats, okay? We might as well be chasing ghosts."
Out of nowhere, Amon comes into view. "Is that what you think?"
Automatically, Kate's finger is on the trigger. "Don't do that!" she glares at him. "Do you want me to shoot you?"
He looks as calm, or emotionless, as ever, damn him, despite having a gun in his face. "You sure you're up to this?" he asks without any hint of concern. "Takeda got to you, too."
"I'm fine," she snaps, lowering her gun. "I'm just surprised I haven't seen the target yet."
"Perhaps she's seen us." He looks around the moonlit room, and the trees outside trace mottled shadows with the wind. "Perhaps she's just waiting to strike."
"You sure know how to make a girl feel better," she says sourly. "All right," she says, and checks her weapon before marching forward, despite every fiber of her being screaming against it. She can't hear his footsteps behind her, and again, the thought he might be using a cat-like Craft comes to mind.
When she finally does turn around to check on him, he's gone. Fine. Great. Be like that. Kate sets her jaw and narrows her gray eyes, her Craft in full force. She brushes her long hair away from her face and forces her hands to hold the gun steady in front of her as she goes deeper into the heart of the house. Her quick, unsteady steps matches the nervous beat of her heart, and, despite her previous experience on hunts, she feels more like the hunted than the hunter.
Her heart hammering in her chest, Kate nudges the torn paper door open with her gun. Her weapon pointing in all directions, her breathing coming in shallow gasps, she looks desperately for the target. More than anything, she wants this hunt to be over. She knows she's behaving irrationally, fearfully, but she doesn't care. This place is freaking her out. "Amon," she says in a shaky voice, then clears it, "Amon! There's nobody here."
No answer. Okay. Breathe, Kate, breathe. "Michael," she tries again, then taps her earpiece. The damn thing is dead. It's probably the witch, she thinks, pulling out her communicator hastily and drops it. "Dammit," she mutters, making her shaking fingers hit the right buttons. Nothing. Oh no. This is bad. "Michael," she whispers, as if it would help, then chucks the useless piece of technology to the floor. Quickly, she scans the room again, finding only roach and rat droppings, which doesn't make her feel any better. Where is the witch?
Walking out of the room, Kate finds herself acting like some stupid bimbo in a horror flick, her eyes wide, her breathing fast and shallow, and stumbling over her feet. Her arms are shaking in spite of her best efforts to keep them steady, and, with some relief, sees the front door. She doesn't care if she's being a wimp, she's getting out of there. The long- haired woman shoves her feet into her boots, frowning as she taps her earpiece. Stupid gadget, she thinks, tossing it aside as well.
Finally, she tries for simple aural contact, feeling a little braver now that she's out of that damn house. "Amon, I don't see her," she calls out, not caring if her shout makes her a target for the witch. "Where are you?"
"Right here," the man in black says, stepping out from behind a tree, aiming his weapon at her.