Moving was always an arduous task. Sabbath had done it over a dozen times in her lifetime, since her parents seemed unable to keep jobs in the same town. Eventually they'd come full circle, which left Sabbath questioning the wisdom of having moved anywhere at all, except that for someone as 'freakish' as she was, it had given her multiple chances to start over as she made a mess of each new school situation. This was a bit different, though, she mused as she and Farfarello lugged the large, flat-topped chest that served as her altar out to the van Crawford had acquisitioned especially for this occasion. She'd never been going anywhere with anyone aside from her parents, for one thing. To have Schwarz in her apartment, which had hosted almost no one but herself since she'd gotten it, was decidedly… odd. Schuldich had made an annoyance of himself poking into everything he could get his nose into, but fortunately for Sabbath, there was nothing here that was embarrassing. A massive library of magickal books, souvenirs from Africa, simple furniture, a comic book collection, dozens of gaming supplies, and her laptop, which was likely the most important thing in her entire apartment. She did take it with her, along with as many books as she could get Nagi to carry. They moved quickly and silently, with an unspoken sense of urgency. Crawford was standing watch outside, presumably to make sure that no agents of The One took them by surprise as they were lugging something heavy.

He looked a bit troubled, Sabbath noted as she slipped on the fuzzy carpet on the floor of the van, crab-walking backward and bringing the chest with her. She twisted out from under it and grunted as she forcibly shoved it into a corner, then clambered out and brushed off her sore hands.

"Have you seen something?" Farfarello was asking, standing poised as that single amber eye bore into the back of Crawford's head. If the Oracle was at all discomfited by the attention, he didn't show it.

"Nothing. But it pays to be alert." Pushing his glasses up his nose, he turned and nodded sharply. "Time to finish up. Get the rest of what you need into the van and let's get moving."

"As you wish," Sabbath said cheerfully, muttering, "oh, captain, my captain," as she scampered back toward the building.

Crawford smirked, then turned to Farfarello. "Stay here. I need to speak with Schuldich."

Farfarello nodded and took up station, and Crawford slipped inside.

Schuldich was watching, rather than helping, Sabbath carry a towering stack of books. Had Sabbath not been a witch, Crawford would have questioned her need of so many of them, but she'd made it very clear that there was more knowledge contained in these books than in her head and if he wanted her to do something about The One, some serious research was in order. As the slender witch staggered down the stairs, Crawford took Schuldich's arm and drew him aside.

"I know that look," Schu purred lounging against the wall and eyeing Crawford slyly. "Somebody's Seen something…."

Crawford gave Schuldich a look of mild annoyance. "Nothing serious. But listen to me. I know you're planning on going out tonight…"

"…Amazing how I didn't even know that yet," Schuldich interjected.

"…And you're going to meet someone. Be… just be careful. I See red hair and crossed swords."

Schu laughed. "But I don't use a sword," he told Crawford, shooting him a wink and slipping past him toward the stairs. "Thanks for the heads-up, Brad, but I can take care of myself. If I meet an enemy, I'll know." He sauntered down the stairs just as Sabbath was coming back up, and when he left no room for her to pass him, she elbowed him aside and kept going. Schu slammed into the wall and cursed, and Crawford smirked at him.

"Didn't see that one coming," he said simply, as Sabbath brushed past him.

"SHE doesn't think about it before she does things!" Schuldich complained, stalking out to the van.

Crawford merely chuckled and fell in behind him.

X-X-X

Images was crowded that night, a hundred voices crowding in Schuldich's thoughts and giving him a headache. Still, it was better than hanging around their new and larger apartment with stick-up-the-ass Crawford, silent Nagi, a boy in a coma, and the damned witch who seemed bound and determined to drive him as insane as possible. Of course, he didn't mind Farfarello, but the Irishman had the ability to be simultaneously intriguing and unobtrusive. Schuldich would have invited him to come along, but tonight, he just wanted to be alone. Of course, as a telepath, he was never really alone even in his own head. Thus, to him, 'alone' meant drowning in a dull roar of unfamiliar minds, without the familiar and sometimes grating presence of the people he knew.

He drank slowly and stared moodily at the bar top. Behind him, dozens of bodies pressed and ground against each other to the beat of throbbing music. Had he been in a better mood, he might have danced, but at the moment, he just wanted to sit and pity himself.

He was distracted somewhat as he felt a new presence enter his personal space. An automatic search of the person's mind made Schuldich's head shoot up in surprise. A redhead… warm black eyes, gorgeous face with an intelligent and sly tilt, muscled body clad in worn and casual clothes. His hair wasn't the brilliant orange of Schuldich's, but the darker color of the sun at sunset.

I see red hair and crossed swords…

And his mind… that was the most arresting thing. He had the usual current of surface thoughts that everyone ran, like a constant commentary in their own heads, but his was unusually slow and languid. And beneath it, there was just… nothing. Quiet. Schuldich had met people who's heads were so empty they never had a truly deep thought for him to pry into, but this man wasn't that. It wasn't lack of intelligence that kept his mind mercifully and blessedly quiet; it was peace. To brush against his mind was like being touched by cool water, instantly calming and healing. There was only one other person Schuldich knew who had a mind as quiet as this, and it was Crawford, who through years of dealing with telepaths and psychics of all varieties had disciplined his thoughts until they were silent.

The man caught him staring and merely offered him a rakish smile. "See something you like?" he teased lightly, eyes sparkling with amusement.

Schuldich's eyes narrowed as Brad's warning came back to him, and he quickly indulged himself in a deeper search of this man's mind. To his surprise, he turned up nothing. No evil intent, no information about him at all. He was thinking that Schuldich was unusually beautiful (that was useful information, but in a different way) and that he looked troubled. Schu laughed when he uncovered concern in the man's thoughts.

"What do you care if I look like I'm miserable?" he chuckled, causing the redhead to hike an eyebrow. "You don't know me."

"Well, that's easily fixed. My name is Cross Aladriss. And you are?" He offered a hand, and Schu took it, feeling a strong grip roughened with calluses.

"Schuldich," he said loftily, slipping Cross a wink.

Cross's eyes narrowed. "Guilty?"

Schu blinked, then had to refrain from smacking himself in the forehead. This was America, where they taught about a dozen different foreign languages to children before they even left grade school. There was no reason for this man not to know German, and therefore, no reason for him to not be able to effortlessly translate Schu's name.

So, rather than becoming defensive, he leaned back in his seat, crossed one long leg over the other, and raised his glass to Cross. "That I am," he purred, "But everyone's guilty of something."

"Mm-hm." Cross returned the smirk and slid onto the stool next to Schuldich, ordering a Guinness and resting his elbows on the bar. "Some of us more so than others. So, are you miserable or were you just reading my face?"

Schu laughed. "Your face isn't hard to read, and I suppose mine isn't either at the moment." He couldn't resist giving Cross a once-over and then leaning in flirtatiously, his trademark devilish grin quickly returning to his face.

"Well, that's something of a problem with me," Cross said cheerfully, accepting his beer from the tender. "I'm compulsively honest."

Schu snorted. "Please. Nobody is entirely honest. They say things they don't mean and offer comfort they don't feel. Empty kindness and empty condolences… if they were really honest, they'd admit that none of them gives a shit."

Cross considered that and shrugged. "And if they do? How would you know the difference?"

"None do," Schu said confidently, knocking back his shot and spinning the glass back onto the varnished bar top. "Not about me and not about you." He glanced up, eyes narrowing slyly as he appraised Cross, who was listening attentively. "They all want something out of you. Just like I want something out of you…" his fingers flicked out and meandered down that handsome face, and Cross's mouth twitched into a smirk. "And you probably want something from me."

"Well, you're right enough about that," Cross admitted, black eyes locked onto Schuldich's. "But I guess I'm one of those rare, one-of-a-kind beings who does give a shit. You've got no reason to confide in me, but if you want to get whatever it is off your chest, I'll listen. And I won't give you anything false."

Schu waved a hand dismissively. "I'll be fine in a little while. I should get out there and dance…" Like quicksilver, his expression changed and he stood, smirking at Cross. "Want to come?"

If Cross was surprised by his mercurial behavior, he didn't show it. He merely smiled and stood also, following Schu out onto the dance floor. Cross was just a bit shorter than Schu was, but he moved gracefully and easily. He probably had martial arts training, Schu realized suddenly. That was why his mind was so quiet and he was so… so… composed. He slid an arm around Schu's waist, somewhat surprising the German, and then they spun together and all those thoughts fled Schu's mind. The lights strobed and the music forced his heart to thump in time with it. Cross had a gorgeous body, he realized dimly as he ground against him, and as the press of minds and bodies all around him threatened to swallow him, Schu let his presence slip into the other redhead's thoughts where everything was calm. It was blissful and he pulled Cross close, lips skating over his throat. Cross slipped a hand up into his hair and Schuldich shuddered, one hand running down the other man's back to his hip and pulling him closer to grind. They danced through two songs, then three, as Schu basked in mental safety and quickly grew to know his partner's body, the way he moved and the feel of toned muscle under deliciously fevered skin.

Schu was in a stupor, so it was Cross who eventually broke away and dragged him back to the bar to get something to drink. He watched Cross as he finished off his alcohol, taking stock of him one more time for good measure, then set the drink down and drew his fingers down the other man's face. "I think you've won me over, Kreuz," he murmured, and Cross chuckled at the German version of his name. "I'm feeling MUCH better…." He leaned in and purred in Cross's ear, and felt the other redhead tense. Schu smirked nibbled at his earlobe. "You up for a change of pace? Come with me…"

Very few people could resist Schuldich when he put his mind to getting them into bed. None the less, he was rather flattered when Cross didn't even try.

X-X-X

"Where IS he?" Crawford demanded of the air, but the air didn't answer, and neither did Sabbath or her comatose friend who was now on a bed rather than a couch.

"If you're that worried, I can try to find him for you," Sabbath offered, and Crawford shook his head, waving a hand dismissively.

"It's all right. He'll be back before things get serious, I've seen that much, but he always HAS to disappear just when it's most inconvenient…"

Sabbath smiled. "Well, maybe he wants to have a life. I mean, I'm sure Schwarz is a tight-knit group, Crawford, but it's hard to be around people constantly. Hell, I feel infringed upon staying with all of you. There's always someone around, someone who's in my space, and I'm never alone. It's got to be ten times worse for Schu, being a mind-reader."

Crawford eyed her. "Yes, I understand that. But he has a duty to be around when we need him, and Eszet doesn't make concessions for agents who want to have a 'life'."

"Eszet doesn't make concessions period," Sabbath told him, her voice tinged with scorn. "Seriously. Why do you bother with them? You could make plenty of money on your own, hiring your skills out to the highest bidder without Eszet serving as go-between and hanging over your head like the Sword of Damocles. And if it's power you're after, going your own way would gain you power AND freedom. I don't have to tell you how much of the world is at your fingertips, as a precog…."

Crawford waved her into silence and actually met the steady and dark gaze trained on him. "Eszet is strength," he told her sternly. "Eszet is power, and knowledge, and security. Eszet is the future of the Gifted. If I were you, I would try to view them more favorably."

"That's a rather ominous statement," Sabbath shot back gamely, stretching like a cat in the chair she was draped sideways over, as was her habit. "Which reminds me. You were supposed to ask them if you were allowed to give us a hand. I assume you've heard back by now."

Smart girl. Crawford couldn't resist a smile, but it was bitter. "Yes, as a matter of fact, and I was hoping for a moment of privacy to discuss that with you."

"Well, discuss away," Sabbath said with dry magnanimity. "There's no one here except for me, you, and the corpse." She chucked a thumb in the direction of her sleeping friend.

Crawford chuckled. "Eszet agrees that this Collective could become a threat to us. They are willing to allow us to aid the Inconnu, with promise that there will be no betrayal, and no more infringement upon whoever stands against this One."

"That's all of New York City," Sabbath reminded him, then settled back, eyes shrewdly narrowed. "And what is it they want in return for this generosity?"

Crawford smirked coldly, and told her in one word.

Sabbath paled, and for a moment, he almost felt guilty. But this was his job, and she had the choice to accept the deal.

Or die and let her friends die with her. Not much of a choice.

And really, it was all moot. He already knew what her choice would be. In fact, he had counted on it.

X-X-X

When Schuldich awoke, he was alone, and the strangeness of that disoriented him severely in the moment before he was able to get his bearings. Normally when he threw himself like this, into the arms of the night and faceless strangers, he slept fitfully (if at all) and woke long before his exhausted partner, slipping away and muddling their memories so that they wouldn't remember his face and seek him out. But after several hours of play with Cross, who was both inventive and inexhaustible, they had both collapsed and Schu had slept like a stone, untroubled by dreams. And now it was late morning and the sunlight was streaming in through the drapes, which Cross had so thoughtfully opened before he left.

Memory came flooding back and warmth flushed under his skin as Schu dropped back into the mattress with a low purr. God, but that had been a wonderful night. Faceless strangers were rarely so good.

Funny, he thought idly as he pulled himself together and left the hotel, sauntering down the street rather than taking a cab and rather enjoying the early sunlight. Within the span of two days he'd randomly discovered two minds that were complete and utter opposites and neither of them were psions. Cross, whose entire being seemed to resonate easy-going peace, and Sabbath, who had no mental shields whatsoever and was so vibrant and full of energy that being around her made Schu's head throb painfully. Of course, it was insignificant irony, but it was enough to make him chuckle. He slipped between the throngs of people and paused on a street corner to raise his head and scent the air. It was early August and the heat would soon be sweltering and sticky, joining with the smog to cling to his skin. But just now, it was nice.

He returned to their new apartment quietly, anticipating that Crawford would be awake and exceptionally pissed. But Crawford was not sitting up and waiting for him, and the living room was strangely empty. In fact, the entire place was oddly quiet. He cast his thoughts out and quickly located Sabbath, the only person in the apartment at the moment, sequestered away in her room. It was her mental signature, but he was rather surprised. Her thoughts were much quieter than usual, a low and humming blank that was occasionally interrupted by a random wisp of activity. He got the sense that she was… seeking something. Casting her mind out, hunting. He slipped closer to the door of her room and cracked it open quietly.

The sense of Power smacked him solidly in the face and he almost recoiled before he caught himself and steadied himself against it. The entire room thrummed with it, the air vibrating and almost seeming to sing. Sabbath had been given the second-largest room, with a large set of floor-to-ceiling windows that let in the sunlight and moonlight and faced toward the north. Now she was kneeling, facing east, and her friend's body lay on the floor in front of her. She had used chalk to inscribe a circle on the floor, ornate and inscribed with sigils Schu didn't have a hope in hell of identifying. Candles burned at each cardinal direction and pieces of quartz crystal were spread about the circle. He was fairly certain that the vibrations of those stones were what was producing the mental humming noise. Sabbath was sitting on her knees with several items in front of her, hands spread before her, chin resting on her collarbone. Between her hands, stretched along her fingertips, silver string made a simple spider web. As Schu carefully examined the Power structure she had set up, he realized that it resembled nothing so much as a great funnel, or a web of silken strands made to trap whatever fell into it from above. Her lips moved soundlessly as the funnel spun slowly, drawing Schuldich in, enticing him to come deeper and lose himself in its depths, to find his way home…

Schuldich jerked his mind away from the funnel and found himself panting. The Witch had power. There could no longer be any question about that. Maybe he'd been a bit off the mark, calling her a pretender, though he still wasn't convinced that the energy she'd managed to raise wasn't just another form of psionics. He backed away from the door and retreated to the kitchen to find himself some coffee. If she succeeded in drawing her friend's soul back to his body, which it was rather obvious she was trying to do, he'd know soon enough anyway.

The door latch clicked and Crawford stepped inside, followed closely by Farfarello, with Nagi tagging along close behind.

"Where have you BEEN?" the slight telekinetic demanded, looking affronted. "We got called off to accompany Takatori. He wasn't pleased that we'd misplaced you."

"Well, fuck you too, chibi-Crawford," Schuldich shot back with a smirk, lounging and raising both and eyebrow and his coffee mug with an air of smug satisfaction. "Oh, wait, you'd be in a better mood if you'd gotten fucked, especially as well as I did."

Nagi flushed and shook his head in chagrin, escaping for his room.

Crawford sighed and pressed a finger against the bridge of his glasses. "Where were you, Schu?" he inquired with admirable calm. "We told Takatori we'd left you behind to guard the telepath, but I'm not sure he was convinced. I've heard back from Eszet, by the way, and the arrangements have been made… we'll stand with the Inconnu, as allies."

"Are we going to stab them in the back?" Schu inquired lightly, spinning his mug between his hands.

"No," Crawford told him, and Schuldich looked irritably disappointed. "As I said, arrangements have been made. Eszet's aid was not bought cheaply."

"What are they paying us?"

"That's none of your business." Crawford helped himself to a mug and the remaining coffee, then sat at the table across from Schu. "The decision has been made; be content. Sabbath told me she was going to try to retrieve her friend's soul today. I assume she's still at it?"

"Busy as a little bee," Schuldich told him boredly. "I can see how she fell into Wicca. She's a Channeler."

"No, she is not," Farfarello interjected from the doorway, causing them both to shoot him irritated looks as he padded into the kitchen and flipped one of the chairs around to straddle it backwards. His jaw worked thoughtfully and the blunt end of a needle poked out between his lips. "It's a skill gained through practice and study, one anyone can master if they have the discipline and desire to learn."

"Been hitting her up for information?" Schuldich teased, his smile slightly cruel. "Witchcraft hurts God, doesn't it, Farfie?"

Farfarello shrugged and nodded. "Throughout all the holy scriptures, only one crime is never forgiven, and that is the crime of witchcraft. Witches, God says, are to be burned, beheaded, and stoned to death. Their holy places are to be desecrated and their sacred symbols destroyed, because they wield power only God is supposed to use." His full lips curved slightly upward. "God sought to keep mankind innocent in the garden, and never knowing the difference between good and evil, never knowing pain, mankind would never have advanced beyond its primitive state. But when Lucifer tempted woman with the seed of knowledge and she ate… she did, indeed, become like God. Because in each human being is a small piece of God, his likeness and his creative ability. Just as God can wield the power of wind and storm, of sun and brimstone, of life and death – just as God can see into the future and the past and know the minds of man and beast, so can human beings if they have the will."

"How enlightening," Schuldich murmured silkily, watching Farfarello as he chewed his needle. "I suppose she told you all this or have you already raided her library?"

Farf shrugged. "Some she told me. Some, I've found out myself recently, and some I already knew. Does it matter how I know it, as long as it's true?"

Schuldich decided to attend his coffee rather than argue with that logic, and Crawford saved them both from further religious ranting by clearing his throat and folding his hands on the table, a blatant signal that he was about to tell them something important.

"Our priorities have changed," he said succinctly, glancing around to make sure he had their attention. "As I have foreseen no threat to Takatori during our stay in America, only one of us, at most, need attend to him. Since he needs to know what is lurking in the minds of his employees, Schu, that's got to be you."

Schuldich scowled. His hatred for Takatori wasn't exactly a secret. Some day in the future, he fully intended to slam one of the old fart's damnable golf clubs so far up his ass that it would come out his throat. But for now, he was a member of Eszet and Eszet wanted Takatori alive and well catered-to.

"The rest of us will do what we can to whip the Inconnu into fighting shape and see if we can't locate The One's power base. Wherever they're housing their Core, we'll need to find it. I anticipate that Sabbath will prove useful in that area. If she does manage to revive her friend, I'll enlist his aid. If not, we'll have to dispose of him, but I don't think that will be a problem. Either way, these next few days will be spent taking measure of the enemy. Farfarello."

Farf's eye, which had been wandering off along with his thoughts, snapped back to Crawford.

"You're going to have to accompany Sabbath and her friend, should he awaken, anywhere they go. We can't afford to lose the witch. She's our best hope for destroying The Collective utterly… I've Seen it."

Farfarello nodded. He'd anticipated as much, and it was hardly as though he minded the assignment.

"I will be working with the Mainframe, using their contacts to narrow our search, and Nagi will do the same. We need to make this quick and efficient… the prize is worthwhile, but I doubt Eszet has the patience for a drawn-out war." He stood, taking his coffee to the sink and fastidiously rinsing the mug clean. "Takatori has a meeting the day after tomorrow with Sunsoon Corp., Schu. I expect you to be there, bright and early." With that, the Oracle returned to the privacy of his room.

"Fucking bastard," Schu muttered under his breath.

"Takatori or Crawford?"

"No, Crawford's a bastard, but he's a sly bastard. Takatori's the one I'd like to spread liberally over a bed of spikes."

Farfarello shrugged. "As would I. But we are under orders."

"Always under orders." Schuldich stretched and yawned. "If I wasn't so inventive, I'd never get to have any fun."

"Inventive and cruel," Farfarello pointed out, smiling the predator's smile. "A bad combination."

Schu returned the grin. "But oh, SO good…."

X-X-X