Amon awoke slowly, head and chest throbbing. He gave a low groan, and sat up, one hand going to his head, the other groping for the bottle of aspirin that should have been on his bedside table.
"Good morning, Amon." The rich voice filled the room hollowly, echoing in the manner of a place that was desolate in its inhumanity.
"Father," He acknowledged calmly, formality filling the void where most kept their paternal connections. A dream fled from his mind, into the whiteness of the STN-HQ infirmary. He was in Italy, then. Desperately, he attempted to recapture the blonde hair and green eyes, before the mist overtook the face…
He glanced around the room, and then sat up, pulling on his boots, which were right beside the door. Solomon, the head of the feared international organization, watched his son in silence for a moment, then commented,
"You've been longer in the Japanese division than even in Cairo."
"I was born in Egypt. I carry an Egyptian name. I don't remember the country. I don't even speak the language."
"Yes, you were raised in Italy, before you were relocated to Japan. You loved it, and I think some of your bitterness stands from being sent from the small village and abbey where you spent your youth. Do you wish to stay here in the headquarters in Rome?"
"No."
"You wish to remain in your posting in Japan?"
"Yes, sir."
Solomon sighed. He knew his son would never believe he regretted not spending time with him when he was a child, much less understand why Amon had been sent from home at the age of five, only to be snatched back ten years later.
His shoulders straightened, and he nodded. "I've never known you to leave an assignment unfinished. Proceed."
Amon rose without a word, picked up his trench coat, and wandered into the chill rain, wondering what assignment he was currently on…
&
The fifteen-year-old boy turned his head, ignoring the black-suited man who smelled of gun smoke. He stared at the rain falling outside the car, turning to mist the farther from the vehicle you looked. His uncle sighed irritably.
"Mr. Solomon, you needn't take your anger at your father out on me. I was merely sent to fetch you." Then more sharply, "Amon!"
"My name," the boy said in a chill voice, much like his father's when the head of SOLOMON was in a foul mood, "is Andre diMiddici. Those who actually cared about my existence gave me the name. Amon was a pagan boy who wasn't wanted by his family. If I must take up the name Amon again, I will be Amon Nagira. I'd prefer my mother's name."
"Your mother was an Earth witch who tried to kill you! You are a wind craft seed, and will have to learn to use your craft if it manifests." Ra Solomon said angrily. The boy had turned his head slowly to look at the man, and then turned his attention to the outside dreary day again.
"I'm sick of stopping in these hostels of yours." Amon said.
Later that night, the boy rose and slipped from the room silently. Once outside, he stopped and took a breath of fresh air. He turned his head, and saw the moonlight shining on a building far off among the hills. The mist cleared, and he saw that it was a monastery. He ran towards it, knowing that sanctuary lay within.
And there was a fire there that called him…
An elderly priest met him at the door. "May I help you, my son?"
"I am being hunted by one who would control me. I am Andre diMiddici of the Abbey of Saint Catherine, up north. Please, give me someplace where I can stay until it is safe for me to make my way home!"
The priest looked at Amon for a long moment. "Come in, boy. There is truth in your eyes."
Over the next few days, Amon slipped easily back into the habits he had known all of his life. One afternoon, he sat in the chapel, a book perched easily on his knee, reading away, when he heard the piano, not the organ in the loft, sound. He looked up to see a young girl sitting at the piano, playing a very simple but pretty song that he knew well. She looked to be about five, with bright golden hair and intelligent, soft green eyes. Amon felt the fire around her that had called, and smiled.
"Lovely angel," He called. "May I sing to your song?"
The girl froze, the music dying away. She gathered the sheet music, and turned to flee.
"Wait! What's your name?" He cried. The shy little girl paused, and a musical, shy voice floated down to him, "Robin!" before she fled.
A few days later, Ra Solomon found his young charge. He chastised his young charge, and began to lead him to the car. Amon paused, feeling the eyes of a shy girl upon him from the tree limb above his head. Impulsively, he pulled off the amulet that was all he had of his mother: red stone with a silver cross.
"Here!" He called up to her. "You may have this!"
There was no response. He shrugged, and tossed it up to her. Surprised, she caught it, and stared after Amon as he moved away.
"Why do you give this to me?" She shouted after him.
"To ensure that my shy little bird will come to me some day…"He answered, as he allowed himself to be led into the car. He looked back, but her face was lost in the early morning mist…
&
Amon unlocked the Audi, his mind turning over the events of his dream. He had forgotten that time long ago, and wondered why that memory should pop up now, ten years later. His eyes fell on the file folder on the passenger seat. His brow wrinkled, and his picked it up to read it. An eyebrow shot up, as he wondered why such a potentially dangerous witch hadn't been hunted sooner. His face darkened again.
"An STN member? Not another Kate!" He murmured, a not of desperation entering his voice. He reassured himself,
"I don't know this Robin. She was never in my department. And she can't possibly be the orphaned angel of my dream…"
&
It was too late to go to the office (being ten at night). He had just gotten back to Tokyo (and found his car waiting for him at the airport), and he needed information…even if he didn't like the source. He parked and slipped upstairs, knocking at a familiar door.
"Amon!" Nagira exclaimed in surprise. "This is unexpected, brother-mine!"
"I'm here on business."
"When are you not?" Nagira sighed and stepped aside, allowing Amon in. "How did you know I'd be here this late?"
"I didn't."
Nagira took another look at his brother's trench coat, and the bulge in the pocket that suggested an orbo gun. "You're back with the STN after all that happened at Factory?"
"Factory?" Amon asked, his bewilderment showing only slightly on his face.
"Amon, are you OK? Need a smoke?" Nagira was the only person in the world who knew that Amon had a vice, and employed it when he didn't need to be professional. Amon took the lighted cigarette, and was lighting it when Nagira commented,
"You're by a little late. I don't think I want to wake Robin, so if you want to wait for morning…"
Amon choked and nearly dropped his nicotine fix. "Robin Sena?"
"Who else?" Nagira asked in surprise.
Amon was already halfway up the stairs…
&
Robin stood before the mirror, brushing out her hair. Her bustle and overdress lay on the cot, but she still wore her boots and under-dress. She wasn't quite sure why she felt uneasy, and moved back into the main room of the upstairs loft just as the door burst open. She turned and fled for the window, leaping and landing badly on her ankle. She barely noticed as she ran into the late night fog.
&
Amon shot a single orbo bullet after the fleeing figure, growling as she was lost to sight and he heard the orbo casing shatter harmlessly on the wall feet above the witch's head.
"What the hell are you doing?" Nagira demanded, forcibly turning his brother to face him.
"I hunt witches," Amon reminded his brother, pushing past him and out the door. Nagira sank down on the cot, his head dropping into his hands.
"What is wrong with you?" He demanded of the gun smoke scented room.
&
Robin's ankle throbbed as she ran up the stairs. She gave a low cry and fell heavily against the door, her key dropping from her hand as she went limp and collapsed.
&
Touko wandered the silent apartment. It had been well fixed after the incident…but it still seemed to carry the memory, if nothing else. She had come here 'to get some things she wanted', but she knew it was really a morbid fascination with what had happened. Her eyes swept the room. There Robin had stood that morning, making coffee. There, she had stood by the door, watching wide-eyed, shock evident on her face as gunfire erupted…
"No!" She wrenched her mind away from that thought. Her eyes fell on the couch. Here, several times a seemingly long time ago, she and Amon hadn't even been able to contain their passion for each other long enough to reach her room…
Something hit the door loudly. Touko jumped, biting back a scream. How could they have known she was here? Why were they here now?
No other sound came. Cautiously, Touko pulled an umbrella out of the stand next to the door and yanked the door open with a violent suddenness.
Robin weakly fell across her feet.
"You!"
"I'm sorry, Touko." Robin whispered weakly, the pain evident in her voice. "Had I known you were here, I wouldn't have come. I don't want to cause you any more problems." Her eyes slipped closed. Touko stared at her; a fragile young girl, in a soaked, thin gown, the wind chilling Touko even as she stood there looking at Robin, leaving her to wonder how cold Robin herself was.
"Amon…betrayed…me, too." The small, younger girl whispered with a sigh, moments before she passed out. Touko felt a surge of pity, and, after glancing around cautiously, she lifted Robin and carried the too thin girl into the apartment.