"I missed you…"
Brett whispered the words as he sped down the long highway. They were a caravan now, having ridden in the back of Markus's brown pick-up to the old warehouse that the cars had been stored in. When that rag tag band of witches had rushed to flee America, and flee everything that was happening to them, they left their cars in the car of Markus. Granted, there had only been a few of them. Brett's white Honda Civic. Nycole's green Durango. Brett had never been so happy to see his Civic, to drive his own car again.
Saddest of all, was Kathain's car. Her little, red Nissan Sentra had been left to collect dust next to the other cars. Markus had turned it over every week along with the other vehicles, and the car ran just fine. The Warriors couldn't turn down a free ride. Yeet, somehow, none of them, save Raven could bring it upon themselves to actually drive the thing. The runemal took to driving it, pausing only to complain that the older model car barely peaked off at 96 miles per hour.
And, so, they drove off, into the night.
"Where are we going?" Robin inquired softly.
Brett didn't answer. He looked to the road for comfort, for silence and the ability to avoid answering any question. The fire elemental just drove, following Markus's pick-up the entire way, but knowing exactly where they were heading already.
Again, Robin asked the question, pressing harder this time, feeling rather annoyed. "Brett, where are we going?"
"Answer her," Amon growled from the backseat.
Brett sighed heavily. "We're going to the bunker."
It seemed like the simplest answer of all. No explanation. No need. It just was. Someone had once said that, no matter how bad life seemed, it couldn't always get better or worse. It just was. So you just had to suck it up and live. Right then, Brett hoped that Robin and Amon would heed such a warning.
Instead, Robin's curiosity got the better of her. "You seem rather prepared for all of this."
"Markus, Geoff, and Kristo had been ready for this long before any of us came to Atlanta. They were smart about it," Brett replied nonchalantly.
Before he could even form the wish that Robin would just allow the subject to die right then and there, the fire starter inquired further, demanding further knowledge on the situation. "Brett, tell me the truth." The girl's emerald eyes narrowed to deadly slits. "How long have you known?"
"About Amon?"
Robin shook her head. "No. About all of this?"
"Three years," Brett heaved the words with a deep exhalation. "Geoff's known for about six, maybe seven years now."
Had it really been that long? Brett was surprised. Time had flown since he first met Geoff and Kristo at the IHOP. It seemed like ages from when the fire elemental had learned of his true destiny. The time before that, however, had been rather unsavory.
Robin seemed to know exactly where to pry. "When did you find out you were a witch?"
Three days of uncomfortable silence from the girl, and, now, this. Brett had never really been one for sharing. Granted, the fire elemental wasn't as bad as Kristo, but the young man never liked answering questions. Most of the witches were like that. The past didn't matter anymore, really, so what did it matter?
"Ten years ago."
Robin felt the sadness within him. Brett had only been twelve years old. Just a boy. And, then, he had been thrust into manhood by being handed the dark powers within him. Robin had been but a child, too, but she at least had the seeming love and support of the nuns that had taken her in. She also had Father Juliano to guide her. Brett had no one. The young man awoke alone, a fledgling witch with no one to teach him, no one to keep him safe and sound.
He derailed her train of though. "We're almost there."
xxxx
Time.
Her time had come.
Kathain took her chance, slipping away from reality and into the shadow realm that was the fabric of time itself. The Queen had returned. That was a bad sign. After what had happened before, before they left Atlanta, Kathain knew not to trust anything that came down from the Queen's own lips. The girl had learned her lesson well, paying special heed to any dealings with that strange character beyond the moment the witches fled America for Japan.
And, now, the Queen had come back to power.
The Thirteen had returned to America; Kathain knew they would. In truth, the girl had known that her suicide attempt would never work, but the precognitive thought it would have been worth a shot. Something could always be said about free will and conscious choice to do something, no matter how much fate stood against it. Kathain knew all this would happen, in its own time.
And she knew death approached, on black wings.
The girl closed her eyes, letting the visions come to her.
"Geoff…"
xxxx
Into the dark, they were, descending the stairs of the old barn. Amon had raised an eyebrow when the line of cars pulled into the driveway for a long abandoned farm, but he said nothing to Brett or Robin. Instead, the former hunter just watched and waited, patiently, as they drove up to the rotting out barn and stopped. He refused to question, biting his tongue, despite the man's rising curiosity.
Kristo didn't seem to care. He led the way, stepping down each old, warped stair with ease. The barn smelt warm and mellow to him, like days long past and summers spent ignoring chores. The hay in the loft above still remained from years gone, still rustling under the motion of barn mice and a bird or two. This place, the shadow walker had once called home. It was were the man had learnt to control his ability, in addition to helping Brett accept his own darker calling. This place held memories, dead and decaying with the structure its self.
In the cellar of the barn, Kristo strode to the center of the empty space, opening the huge, swinging doors to the storm cellar, and jumping inside. Robin caught her breath, having not heard his feet hit the ground, but, within a moment, a light flickered on down there. The others went down, following Kristo, but taking the stairs.
Robin glanced to Amon; her partner shrugged and followed, into the dark.
"What's the matter, Little Bird?" Markus's sickeningly suggestive voice crooned in the girl's ear. "Afraid."
The girl shook her head. "Never."
"Well, alright, then." Markus took the first step down, turning to extend a hand to the fire starter in a mock of politeness. "Shall we?"
Robin took a deep breath and stepped into the shadows.
xxxx
They had finally released the house.
Karasuma stalked in, feeling so utterly lost, despite the fact that it had only been a few weeks, maybe a month or two at most since the empath last saw the home of Kristo and those witches. Still, it was the lingering memories of Robin and Amon that haunted her. The empath could still see Robin's smiling face, standing by the counter with Nycole and Kathain, laughing at some joke. She could recall every detail to those images of the pair playing in the stream behind the house.
Solomon had picked over the house with an even finer tooth comb than at Nocturne. They had turned the place upside down… literally, it seemed, judging by the mess. But Karasuma wasn't looking for clues exactly. At least, not the kind that Solomon would have been interested in.
She ran her fingers over the counter, feeling the life of the house, the good times spent around it, even as fugitives. Miho smiled absently. Robin was definitely one of the people who had shared in such times, enjoying the fun and games when there was any. Strangely, such feelings of home comforted the woman. At least Miho could trust that those witches cared about Robin, and that they would take care of the girl.
"Happy memories?" Doujima asked.
Karasuma nodded. "Many."
"That's odd," the other woman mused.
The empath shook her head. "No, not really." Doujima raised an eyebrow, but Miho went on, feeling the life and energy of the house unfold, welcoming her in return. "They were fugitives, yes, but they were family."
"Oh…"
Miho paused. There was a pen lying on the counter. She picked it up, feeling the smooth edges of the black Pilot pen. A Solomon agent had used that writing tool. He had taken it from one of the rooms and carelessly left it lying on the counter.
Book.
Karasuma blinked, dropping the pen.
"Something wrong?" Doujima inquired.
Miho shook her head again, and took up the implement a second time. The memories bloomed before the empath's own eyes, without the need to scry. This house, this pen, it all wanted her to know something, something important. The woman breathed deep and let her mental guards down, allowing the images to flow into her like a river.
Book of secrets.
Miho licked her lips.
Secrets of the Thirteen.
There was most definitely something there. An image. An old, leather bound book. It rested in the pale hands of a young woman, slender and delicate, with red hair and sparkling blue eyes. A witch. Kathain.
Secrets of the Oracles.
"We have to find that book."
xxxx
The day was warm and hot, fittingly so for the weather. The sun shone, mockingly in the sky, almost macabre and evil, glaring upon the body.
Kathain trembled. "I don't want to see anymore of this."
But she had to.
The scene reset, rewinding before her very eyes. The figure before her rose, rewinding the fall. The bullets tore from his body, screaming backwards towards the pistols from which they originated. The blood rushed back, into the man's body. The breath ran into his lungs again. And his eyes? They softened suddenly, the shock melting away, replaced by cool comfort.
It was a gas station. A Chevron. If Kathain couldn't stop the vision from coming, she would learn everything about it she could.
Time started again, moving forward at a normal pace.
He was coming out from the convenience store, a smile on his face and something in his hands. Brett was at the car, his white Civic. The fire elemental said something, something lost to time its self. The other man tossed a pack of cigarettes at him.
And, then, those sounds came again.
Kathain clamped her hands over her ears, blocking out the terrible sounds of gunshots.
But she could not look away.
The precognitive watched in horror as it happened all over again. She was powerless to stop it, powerless to do anything. Instead, all Kathain could do was stare in emotional agony and torment as the bullets flew again, tearing through the air, through sound its self, towards the man before her.
"Oh…. Shit."
Last words of a man doomed to die.
Kathain cried as the man fell.
"GEOFF!"
xxxx
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