TATTOO YOUR SOUL

The islands of Japan had long since fallen away, sinking beneath the horizon with a slow and steady decline. The deep, cerulean blue of the sea rose over the land, or did the land slip under the waves? Brett couldn't quite tell anymore if he was a "glass is half empty" of "half full" man, as he stared at the swelling distance between the trawler and the island nation from the stern. He took comfort in knowing that the further away they were from Japan, the closer they crept to wherever Kathain and Amon were being kept.

Nagira had arranged the disgusting, fish-reeking, rusted out, trawler for the band of witches. Robin had never been more thankful for Amon's half brother and his less savory friends. The lawyer had once helped the captain save his own daughter from the STN-J; he was more than happy to help repay the favor to Nagira. A plane would have been better. More dangerous, but faster and better. Yet, the boat offered a way off of Japan that was difficult to trace, in addition to lacking the need for passports and a paper trail.

Still, it was so slow. Brett agonized as time crawled by. Every second, every minute they took in travel, was more time that Solomon could be doing who knew what to Kathain. At the moment, Brett didn't really care about Amon, that traitorous bastard. But Kathain…. She'd been like a sister to him for years, a loyal friend. And she was so weak, so fragile. She didn't have any active gits that could protect her. That was why Brett kept her so close; he protected her. Brett wouldn't allow anything to happen to the precognitive.

Robin studied the fire elemental as he stared out across the waters. A sadness and, yet, also, determination hung over every one of the witches, herself included. It was written in every one of their features, screamed with each and every rasp of Kristo's whetstone over his katana. Bear and Raven, normally jokesters, were unusually quiet. The band of witches was on edge, unhinged in some cases. They were silent, letting little words trespass the awkwardness.

No one really wanted to talk. And, even if they did, no one had anything to say, really.

What could someone say at a time like that? Hey, how do you like being a fugitive from Solomon? What sort of cruel tortures do you think they're putting Kathain and Amon through? How about them Yankees? The only things that could be said at the time were either terribly macabre and worrisome, or completely pointless and moot. It felt wrong to speak either way of everything that had occurred, almost taboo. And, so, they remained as quiet as the grave.

Somewhere, up in the riggings, Kristo shifted his weight, sending creaks through the lines. Brett gave a glance up to the swordsman, sitting in and among the sturdy ropes, studying his work on the blade.

The fire elemental had to wonder about the shadow walker. Ever since the night in the woods, Kristo had been quieter than usual, more contemplative. It took far more effort to get the warrior talking, about anything. The most Kristo dared speak were simple answers in regards to the wound while Nycole tended to it. It wasn't that the warrior was sad, or angry at himself for letting Solomon get a hold of Kathain. No, it seemed to be more of a case of cold, calculated planning.

Brett didn't want to know what Kristo plotted.

The elemental turned to an open patch on the deck. All of the others had gone back down below, and Kristo didn't seem to be paying any attention. Angrily, frustrated, the fire elemental threw himself into a strange sort of dance, practicing. He threw out fierce punches with small crests of energy flowing behind them, fueled by his annoyance and anger. It looked like improvised martial arts.

"Too slow," Kristo called from nowhere. Brett blinked, looking up. "Far too slow for going up against Solomon."

"I know…"

xxxx

Lights flashed into existence, blinding Kathain and Amon. The girl shrank back, scrambling into the wall and following it deep into a corner. Amon, however, sat calmly, allowing his eyes to adjust to the light after so long in the dark. He knew better than to waste energy fleeing an uncertainty without any information or preparation. Amon steeled himself, readying for whatever would come through the hinge-less door.

Kathain, however, sat, crouched in the corner, shivering and panting lightly, clearly terrified. She was a tiny, frightened prey animal. The precognitive looked more like a tiny, newly caged bird than an oracle.

Amon stood, slowly. "Kathain…."

"No." The precognitive shook her head. "This is wrong…."

The hunter furrowed his eyebrows curiously, but he never had the chance to ask. Instead, a voice boomed overhead, loud and authoritative. It spoke sternly and masculine, obviously a man who was used to being listened to and followed. The voice fed through speakers somewhere in the ceiling with the recessed lighting.

"Good morning, Miss Kathain Bowen. Mr. Amon."

The girl flinched at her name, but Amon just sank a bit lower, into a battle stance, his fists balled and ready at his sides. "Who are you?"

The voice didn't answer really. "I represent Solomon."

Amon had already grown used to the secretive sort of underlings who served the great, faceless machine known as Solomon. "What do you want?"

"If you'll pardon my rudeness, Mr. Amon, but I don't think you're in the position to be asking questions." The man behind the speakers sounded a bit pompous, probably a higher-up, Amon figured, maybe an Inquisitor. "Especially not since you betrayed Solomon and the STN-J." The voice even sounded as if the man were smiling smugly. "No. I think you had better start answering questions."

"Amon, do as they say," Kathain whimpered knowingly.

The former hunter turned to her, reaching and out snaking his arms around her, helping the girl up. "Kathain, what have you seen?"

"Just let them know what they want."

Kathain seemed so sad, as if pleading with Amon, begging him. Her eyes held such sorrow and acceptance. They welled up with tears, growing glossy and glasslike. The former hunter wondered why she gave in so easily. Perhaps it was the stress, but, also, maybe, it was purely from what Kathain had seen looking into their shared future and Amon's supposed death.

He had to submit. "Alright…"

"That's better." The voice spoke so complimentary, as if Amon were a bad dog who had just given in to a command. "Miss Kathain, we have some questions for you, specifically."

As Amon helped her up, the girl nodded. "I figured as much."

"Are you ready to answer in the most honest and truthful manner?" This was most certainly an Inquisitor.

Amon wished he had his gun, loaded with the witch killing bullets, but those had been taken long before the tranquilizers had worn off. He gave a look to Kathain, as a cool tear rolled down her face, sparkling unusually serenely. The girl roughly wiped away the droplet, shedding away her pale and weak look. She stared defiantly at the two way mirror, almost bitterly. Kathain seethed, as if fueled by ancient fire, but nodded curtly. The door to the tiny cell swung open, and, in a heartbeat, soldiers filled the room, grabbing at the girl.

"KATHAIN!" Amon reached for her.

Her slender, pale arms shot out, reaching and clawing at the air for the man who had come to protect her. In that moment, she looked so like Robin. Her hair, tussled and coppery. Her eyes, wide and sad. Reaching, holding out her hand to him, just as Robin had that day in the well. But, amidst the swarm of deep, olive green, Kathain was swallowed up. Amon leapt, surging forward against the Solomon lackeys who held him back, his hand finding Kathain's wrist and holding it for a moment.

"Amon!" her scream pierced the arm shrilly.

"Kathain!"

But she was gone.

And Amon was left, utterly alone.

The former hunter stood there for a moment, watching the door and the two-way mirror like a caged predator, waiting. Amon stood on edge, his muscles tensed and primed for action. However, none came. Just the awkward stillness of the room.

Well, that and the voice. "Now, Mr. Amon, in regards to your betrayal of Solomon?"

"What are you doing to do with her?" Amon demanded.

The stranger behind the mirror didn't answer really. "I don't think that you really need to be aware of that. I'm not obligated to disclose that information to you at this time." The voice continued on; papers scratched across one another under the sound of the speaking stranger as he was obviously looking over Amon's personnel file. "One year ago, you, along with a few partners in crime, attacked and destroyed the Japan Factory. You cost the lives of several Solomon personnel."

Amon hunkered down, sitting back down, resting his head on the cool wall. "Guilty as charged."

He had no reason to lie. Not anymore. They probably had proof that Amon had been a part of the attack on the Factory, along with Robin. No, lying could only cause more problems, especially for Kathain. Amon had no idea what was happening to the precognitive. The man had to answer, and answer honestly, for Kathain's sake.

"Who were your partners?"

There was a question Amon couldn't answer; instead, the former hunter replied in a sharply, snarky, tone, "I'm not obligated to disclose that information at this time."

"Must you really be so difficult, Amon?" a familiar voice chimed in with the other.

"Zaizen…."

xxxx

"Ready to tell us the truth?"

Kathain twisted and fidgeting under the bindings. She had been bound, tied with the sort of leather and wool cuffs found in a mental hospital. They even stank of the same antiseptic hanging over the air. The cuffs had been tightly buckled, securing her hands around the steel chair and behind her back before linking to the chair, holding her down.

The man before her, seated at the other side of the bare desk, asked the question again. "Are you ready, Miss Kathain?"

The girl's sad eyes moved up his white lab coat. The man seemed so nice looking, like a grandfather, complete with gray-white hair sprinkling his nearly bald head. Were the situation different, Kathain would have wanted to trust the man with the snowy hair and weathered, blue eyes. He somewhat reminded the precognitive of her own grandfather, long dead and buried. Solomon had made a wise choice, getting someone with such a seemingly friendly face to be her interrogator.

Kathain's gaze slipped to the machine on the table, with the vials resting on top, filled with the swirling green Orbo. The girl absently wished she could see the front, rip it apart, and play with the inquisition machine's inner most, secret workings. The engineer in her, or, at least, her abandoned hopes of being one, rose, intrigued by the strange device as the man changed the settings, it seemed.

"Kathain?"

The girl snapped to attention, to the man before her. "I'm ready."

"Good," the man in the lab coat opened a file and took out a pen, ready to make notes. "Let me just get some things right. Your name is Kathain Bowen. Aged, 20. Born, Red Bank, New Jersey, America. Correct."

Kathain stared balefully at the two-way mirror in that, white room. "You know, it's a little rude you know so much about me." She smirked to herself slyly. "Why don't you share something with me, then."

"Fine." The man conceded. "My name is Dr. Elliot Conner. I was born in a tiny, backwoods town in Pennsylvania, just a stone's throw from New Jersey, just to let you know." Kathain nodded as he went on. "I just barely graduated med school before heading into a focus of parapsychology and medical research. Apparently, my field."

Kathain lifted an eyebrow. "How'd you end up here after all that?"

"Solomon liked one of my papers, " Dr. Conner answered. "Apparently, it was a really good application for the job."

"Fair enough."

Conner looked directly upon her. "Now, are you ready to answer some of my questions?" Kathain didn't reply. "Let's talk about your gifts, shall we?"

The thought of Amon, beaten and battered flashed, unbidden, in the back of her mind. "No…"

"Come, now, Kathain. I told you the truth. Now, you tell me something," Conner offered.

Kathain could see it now. She knew what Solomon wanted. They wanted control of her. They wanted to know the future, to be able to change it or prepare for it. They wanted to use her abilities to their advantage. Solomon, the greedy sons of bitches, they would try to alter the future to their benefit, to the suffering of others. Millions would suffer and die from the things Kathain knew. Wars. Famine. Crime. Pestilence. And Solomon at the root of it all.

She saw it clearly for the first time.

The girl shook her head. "No. Never. I'll NEVER tell Solomon."

From nowhere, Kathain grew a defiant spine. She glared fiercely, proudly, staring down the man who dared confront her, dared breach the topic of her special gifts and talents. No. No one could ever know the things Kathain saw.

"Tell me."

Kathain blinked, thinking of Amon and the sacrifice he would have to make. But, this had to happen. Amon had given himself in her visions every time. Now, the girl understood why he did that.

"No," the precognitive growled.

The doctor sighed, closing the folder. "I'm sorry, Kathain, but you leave me no choice."

It didn't matter. Kathain had no choice to begin with.

xxxx

The sun rose in the East, over the ocean and where Japan had been.

Brett and the others stood on the deck of the rusted out trawler, watching intermittently as the sun rose behind them, and China, in front. They had waited for so long to see landfall, to be safe on the mainland and able to schedule faster transportation. Nagira had given them the number of another who would aid the travelers in their quest to reach Italy. Every moment the green mountains came closer was another moment closer to Kathain and Amon. The witches were ready to jump off the boat even before it was fully docked, ready for anything.

Kristo poked at the wound in his shoulder, testing the arm. Robin had seen the bullet when it had been taken from the man's shoulder. A witch-killing slug. By all rights, Kristo should have been dead, or, at the very least, incapacitated. The man should never have been able to go back after Kathain and Amon that night and search for them, let alone shadow play at all. It didn't make any sense. Robin made a quick mental note of it.

Nycole rubbed her arms in the chilly ocean breeze; Sakaki put his coat over her. "We'll be on land soon."

"I know…" the empath looked away, to the rolling blue waves.

"What is it?" Sakaki asked.

Nycole bit her lip. "I'm not sure. Something's wrong, but I don't know what…."

"Something about Kathain?" the man asked softly.

"I don't know..;.. Just something wrong."

xxxx

Oh, nos, mr. snail… what's going to happen…. God, this chapter was bloody awful.