Witch CH.11: Coven
The girl ran, her feet skidding in the softened earth, pebbles flying back to skim across the water. The night watchman she'd hid from before, was nowhere in sight. She prayed now, for someone, anyone to appear, to save her from this nightmare. The immense pants of an animal came closer, spinning abruptly around; she caught her ankle and fell, her back hit the ground and breathless she lay, watching, fearfully as the great blackness darker than the night surrounding her, bore down on her.
No one heard her screams, they'd made sure of that. Only the two women watching from the festive Gazebo set back in the trees near the lake, saw, and did nothing. One held a clipboard and flicked off a red checkmark, another down and still no success. They stood up, melting away in the shadows, their work done for another night.
Only moonlight glinted off the round silver medallion clutched in the failed initiate's open palm.
~~~*~~~
"What do you have to say for yourself, Jeagerjaques?" Chief of Police and Grimm's irritable boss, Kaname Tosen questioned with a look between that of dangerous calm and insinuating acidity. "Sir?" Grimmjow politely said, assuming a posture of complete obeisance to the large man behind the desk.
"Where might you have happened to be four days ago?"
Luckily he had prepared an alibi, "over the weekend, sir, I developed a rather nasty case of food poisoning. I was sick in bed those days." Not the truth precisely, but it might suffice to admit to the allowances of recovery from the hunt at Onta, waiting for HQ to fly over men to secure the body of the witch and…missing two flights back due to Kurosaki's temper and injuries.
Tosen knotted his hands under his chin and leaned forward onto the desk's top. "Why did you not call Sergeant Margera to mark your absence?" Grimmjow thought about the young man in question and managed to appear a little guilty, "sorry. But puking my guts out every half-hour wiped everything else from my mind."
The older man's expression softened a margin, surveying the paler color of the policeman's countenance, he asked; "are you feeling better?"
Grimmjow put on a brave face, "yeah. The days of rest did wonders. That's why I decided to try and make an appearance here today." The door opened and a small dark head peered in. "Chief, there's a reporter here for an Interview. What should I tell her?" Lavender eyes spotted Grimm and crinkled at the corners.
"Bring her in. I'll speak with her." Tosen addressed the boy at the door; to Grimmjow, "walk the beat."
"Yes, sir!"
"Oh and take better care of yourself."
~~~*~~~
Grimmjow whistled along the hallway to the outer door into the station. Crates of miscellaneous papers were piled haphazardly against one wall while a row of streaked windows coated with grime allowed a minuscule amount of light to filter in. So little in fact that the honorary witch hunter failed to notice the slender black-haired boy standing between two particularly high stacks of cartons, watching him approach with a smile.
"And a good one to you too," the boy said good-naturedly the moment Grimmjow passed. He jolted, startled, his eyes flashed and his jaw worked furiously, "Luppi, you bastard!" For a minute his hand had nearly twitched for the small orbo gun hidden behind his regular service pistol.
The boy frowned, stalking forward, his small hips swinging, another smile tugging on the corners of his sulky mouth, "now is that any way to speak to a friend?"
"A-a-a-friend?!!" Grimmjow stuttered, backing up despite himself."Yes. A friend. Who else to cover for you…" the lavender eyes narrowed, "…when you were out running around with your law-breaking fri—witch hunters!" The last part was hissed softly so that Grimm suspected it wasn't so much the hunters that were offending the trainee, but something else.
"I went to your apartment Saturday afternoon." Luppi began carefully, making sure Grimmjow understood the imprecations, "and you hadn't shown up for work nor called Wonderweiss so I thought maybe something was wrong. But lo and behold…what do I hear from some lady passing in the hallway, that she had seen you leaving hurriedly in the early morning and rushing to a waiting gray Sedan in the parking lot."
He tried to keep his expression blank, "yeah, so what? It was a friend of mine picking me up to run me to the store."
Luppi leaned in closer, smiling teasingly, "ah, but Grimmy…" he dropped his voice to a soft octave, "I know you didn't return those days when you were supposed to be sick in bed." Teal eyes flashed at the accusation, "you—you didn't—you asshole!"
"Hush, Grimmy-dear…" the boy got closer and on tiptoe finished whispering in Grimm's ear. "I picked the lock and went in. That's my special skill you know?" he giggled, "then I waited and waited…and you never came back. So you see…I know that you were with them. You lied to Chief Tosen…" he trailed off, leaving Grimmjow to think of the consequences if he ever found out.
"Blackmail!"
"Yes."
Luppi lightly laid his hand on Grimmjow's shirtsleeve, squeezing the firm forearm; "all I ask is that you spend a little time with me."
"Wha—aaaaaghhhhhh!!!!" the teal-haired Policeman screamed when the light brush of small lips grazed his cheek. Horror clouded his vision and he stumbled past Luppi, shaking in his boots. "Remember Grimm," lavender eyes stared back with fierce emotion, "next Saturday, you owe me."
Gleeful giggles followed him out the door and to the busy sidewalk, where he started walking, fumbling for his cell-phone and Kurosaki's number.
~~~Raven's 13~~~
"Hecate's torch. Hm, a symbol depicting the Arianrhod and five-pointed stars suggesting divinity…torch means illumination in the higher self…blah. Um, primarily used by initiates of Hecate's coven," Hanataro's voice took on a curious lilt. He tilted back in his chair to look at the three females standing behind him, each with their own pensive expression.
"So—it's used by a coven of witches? How come SCG didn't know about this?" Rangiku demanded. Hanataro hastily rolled his palm over the ball mouse pad, closing the definitely unorthodox website of popular cults. Momo went over to the scanner and lifted the top, withdrawing a round silver disk engraved on one side in blue enamel, "I guess so." She muttered, peering closely at the pendant, "but then why would—"
"Why would what?"
Instinctively everyone turned to confront the two—no—three men walking in—well—in Renji's case, with the aid of a tortoiseshell colored cane. Kurosaki, scowl in place, typical black trench on though he had it open and surprisingly no holster in sight. Beside him—possibly—the cause of the lead hunter's current antipathy, teal eyes squinting in the morning light pouring in from the bay windows was Grimmjow Jeagerjaques, police officer and honorary witch hunter. Renji went in at a much slower pace, long fire engine red hair tied up in a crude ponytail and most definitely disgruntled for having to use a cane to be able to walk around instead of taking a long break like he suggested…
"How'd it go?"
From the glares elicited by Rukia's rather quiet, innocuous question, they figured it hadn't gone well at all.
"Only one piece of damn evidence in the entire crime scene and we had a helluva time getting it!" Renji swung a chair around and plopped down, cane held tightly in his gloved fist. Seeing this, Grimmjow made as if to do the same but a cutting comment by Kurosaki stopped him, "shouldn't you be heading back to the station? Your friend should be waiting for you"
"You—"
"Shut it both of you!" The sound of someone slamming their fist down on one of the desktops interrupted the morning fight. Several pairs of eyes traveled over to the ramrod straight form of Kurosaki's supposed partner. Rukia drew in a shaky breath, her violet eyes flashing dangerously, first from the orange-haired man's sneer curving his thin upper lip to Grimmjow's teal eyebrow arched in surprise.
"Kuchiki—" Kurosaki began, but Rangiku smoothly interrupted, drawing the attention away from dangerous waters, "where is it then? The evidence you recovered?" Grimmjow and Kurosaki were silent as Renji withdrew from the wide pocket of his black jacket a plastic bag, sealed and labeled evidence. It wasn't his words that drew a collective gasp among the women. No. It was the item itself.
A round disk enameled with blue on one side.
"It was found in the victim's hand."
~~~*~~~
"It's just like mine!" Momo burst out. Kurosaki crossed his arms over his chest, "explain." She held out the silver pendant, the rolo link chain tangled between her fingers. He took it from her, turning it over expertly scrutinizing the design, ascertaining it was the same. "Where did you get this?" he finally asked, his voice carefully controlled.
"At home. There's a mail slot in the door and this morning someone had dropped it in. I found it on the floor when I got up…" she looked down at her clasped hands, white-knuckled though he had yet to accuse her of anything. "I see," Kurosaki said, still speaking calmly. Rangiku kept an eye on him, narrowly watching as he went across the room to the coffee pot. He unhooked a brown mug from the rack hanging on the wall and with his back to them, poured a cup of steaming black liquid.
He took a sip of the bitter liquid without stirring in any creamer or sugar. Grimmjow wrinkled his nose in distaste; he himself had a definite sweet tooth. Kurosaki set the cup down after a few minutes, pausing to look at them each in turn, "Hanataro, what do we know about the coven that uses that symbol?"
The boy jumped to attention, "right." He tapped a few keys and rolled his palm over the ball, pulling up the encyclopedia of cults on the web. Some were secretive and gave little information but he kept at it and eventually found one and loaded it on window three, leaving the others open as later research. "Um, Kurosaki, it says to put in a name. It's some sort of lockdown in their server, only allowing I think those who have been initiated to log in. What should I do?"
"Can't you bypass it?"
Hanataro looked a little unsure, "no. I don't think so. I mean I could try…if you wanted—"
"Well do it then." Kurosaki said coldly.
"Wait—put in my name, Hanataro," Momo moved closer, her gaze challenging over the boy's head at Kurosaki, daring him to press his case. The orange-haired hunter simply shrugged, going back to nurse his bitter coffee. The soft sound of ticking broke the quiet and Hanataro's murmur of, "Hinamori, Momo. Got it." The screen went black as he hit enter, the surrounding stations all off before, winked on simultaneously displaying the same thing.
Black with a revolving character, an l with a pointed end.
"Laguz. Rune of water." Kurosaki said, taking a look at the screen nearest him. Rangiku noticed the odd note in his voice, her forehead puckering, "uh huh. But how did—"
"It can't be! It just can't!"
Kurosaki raised an eyebrow at Momo's outburst, "calm down, Hinamori. It just means that someone knows about it. Have you told anyone outside of--?"
She shook her head, her eyes following the runic symbol flashing across the screen. Rangiku wordlessly reached out, giving a reassuring pat to the other's sweater clad shoulder. Rukia watched the silent exchange between the two women, confusion darkening her expression. Kurosaki saw and smiled briefly down and then said, "Seems like there's more to us that you don't know about, Kuchiki."
Her heart gave a leap up at his words, and then plunged, her mind reading between the innocuous structure. He suspected. She decided to play it cool and bait him on how far his suspicions ran. "Oh? How so? Hitsugaya has told me quite a bit on each of the members of this team. Rangiku for instance—" Rukia smiled a little at the curvy blond Clairvoyant, "—has a gray tabby cat she named Hai-neko. By the way…how is she?"
Rangiku had moved to stand beside Momo, her arm around the younger girl, "oh…she's fine. Has me running my dating life into the ground though with her senseless demands. Would you believe she begs for a can of tuna everyday—and screams up a racket if I don't give it to her?"
"I could go out with you," Renji offered, hopeful in scoring his busty partner.
"Not on your life!" She smartly retorted back.
"I have a cat," Grimmjow cut in.
Rukia turned to him, "a he or a she?"
"He. Pantera is his name. Just some alley I picked up one time in the street. Looks like a panther too-black fur, blazing yellow eyes…" he looked down at his clasped hands, "though I doubt he has anything on Rangiku's ash cat."
"Cats in ancient times were believed to be witches familiars. That's why so many were massacred during famines or disasters—back then any little thing was attributed to the witches and them being in league with the devil," Kurosaki added thoughtfully. Rukia, feeling as though he'd gotten enough away from the suspicions of minutes ago, asked curiously, "Do you believe in him?"
"Who?"
"God—the devil—whatever?"
The witch hunters all looked to their leader with blatant curiosity in their various expressions. Kurosaki took his time in answering, finishing his coffee before setting the cup down on the edge of the desk. "No. I don't. Only in the evil, man creates—and the misery he makes for himself."
~~~*~~~
The sound of a phone ringing disrupted the silence following Kurosaki's philosophical words. Hanataro glanced at the stationary main line then to Momo, "it's coming from your cell." She dug in her pocket, withdrawing the red glitterati flip-top and checking the caller ID on the mini screen. "Unknown name and a blocked number…" she muttered, Rangiku peered over her shoulder, "wrong number?" the blond Clairvoyant hazarded.
Kurosaki leaned back in his chair, his arms crossed, "answer it. Hanataro, trace the call." Momo looked at him curiously but she raised the phone to her ear, pressing accept on the call waiting.
"Hello?"
Hanataro typed in a system command, tapping into the connected lines. A loading bar appeared on the bottom edge of the screen on a separate window over the revolving Laguz character. In seconds a voice pattern recorder and the volume fluctuating took in the melodic tenor of the woman on the other end of the line.
"Greetings, daughter of Hecate. I welcome you and sincerely wish that your day has gone well?"
Kurosaki touched his finger to his lips when Rangiku gasped, his look of warning then transferred onto the rest of the hunters—Grimm included. Momo breathed in softly, "Hecate? Isn't that the Wiccan Goddess of death?"
A gentle chuckle read on the recorder, the woman amused by her wit.
"The great goddess does many things. Through her all abilities are gained for she is the mother of all witches. Even those who are afraid of their great power."
"I'm not afraid of my—" angrily she halted, realizing what she was admitting to.
"Your craft? Your own power bestowed upon you by the Goddess? My dear…you are more naïve than I thought…" a sigh. Hanataro gestured with his hand to the screen depicting a satellite map of Tokyo; a red dot was located at the outskirts. Momo looked just as everyone else did, her knuckles tight on the red plastic of the phone's back.
"I'd like to meet you," the woman continued still in sweetened honey tones, "name the place and time and I'll be there."
"Ura—"
Kurosaki shook his head abruptly.
"Sorry, dear. I didn't catch the name. What was it again?"
Momo looked at him helplessly. Hanataro suddenly started digging frantically through the mound of accumulated junk on his desk top, finally waving a paper napkin triumphantly. The brunette hunter read the name silently then brightened, "How about Sugoi's?"
"I love Sugoi's!" the woman said ecstatically, "Do you go there often?"
Here, Momo hesitated then Kurosaki held up two fingers. Understanding, she replied cheerfully, "only twice with friends. But their food is awesome…" she placed emphasis on the word not knowing if that were actually true.
"It is isn't it! Anyway…what time do you want to meet?"
Kurosaki glanced at the clock, the hunters watched him. Finally he indicated three, tapping his Rolex for clarification. Momo smiled, "I'm free at three today. How's that?"
"Perfect. See you then, Tobi."
The line clicked off and went dead before she cried out. Her hands flew to her mouth, her eyes closing as if in pain. Rangiku leaned in, cooing low. Kurosaki met Rukia's gaze, his smirk widening. He knew she had no idea what was going on and didn't like it one bit.
~~~*~~~
"Okay so on account of Abarai's injury, he'll stay here and provide surveillance back up. Matsumoto will go in alone—looking for someone. While Rukia and I take up a reserved table near the back where it's assumed Momo and that woman will meet. Right?" Hitsugaya looked over the assembled hunters, dressed down in plain clothes, holsters out of sight completely.
Kurosaki rolled his eyes irritably, "I will act as a decoy with Rukia, not you, Hitsugaya. Remember, you're not a SCG hunter anymore." Hitsugaya ignored him, turning instead to Grimmjow whom was sulking a bit since his role in the sting operation hadn't been clarified just yet. "Jeagerjaques, you'll await the signal from Abarai. Depending on how long Momo meets with that woman, you'll be called in to join Matsumoto at the bar."
"Alright! Action on the frontline!" Grimmjow hooted, his striped sky blue shirt straining a little as he flexed his muscles tauntingly before Kurosaki. The orange-haired hunter averted his face to the side, preferring to gaze at the wall rather than the police officer's studly physique.
"What about Kurosaki?" Rukia questioned suddenly, Hitsugaya seemed a little surprised at her forceful tone but smiled gently at her, "he'll have his part—like if the entire thing falls apart—racing in there gun waving to save us since none of us are going in armed."
"Kuchiki is," Kurosaki muttered. Rangiku surreptitiously kicked him on the back of the shin with her heeled boots, earning a glare and curse. "Well it's true isn't it? She's a w—" he declared angrily then Hitsugaya silenced him, "Shut it, Kurosaki. You are insinuating ugly accusations against someone that is supposed to be your partner. Rukia is a valuable member of our team and I won't stand for her to be insulted in my presence. Do you understand?"
Cold brown eyes rolled up to meet the former hunter's turquoise green, their look containing barely concealed malice. "If you say so, Chief," Kurosaki shrugged, his casual tone belying the asperity in his eyes. Renji, who sat across from Kurosaki, breathed in shakily, the tension in the air palpable. Hitsugaya rolled up his shirtsleeves pretending in absolute ignorance to spare quarter in the uncomfortable atmosphere created by his intercession.
He checked his pocket once for the keys to the Audi, Rukia murmured helpfully, "in your right." Hitsugaya touched cold metal, and smiled sheepishly, "pity I don't have you as an assistant. It would spare me a lot of grief in keeping track of these things." Kurosaki glanced at the clock then turned to them, his smile tight, "it's nearly two, Hitsugaya. Shouldn't you be going?"
The temperature in the room suddenly dropped a few degrees, Grimmjow remarked on the hairs on his arms standing up though no one paid attention to him, they were too concerned in edging out of the room while he was still sensible. Hitsugaya picked up his jacket, folding it over his arm neatly, "thank you, Kurosaki, for reminding me. Come on, Rukia," he possessively wrapped his free arm about her shoulders, steering her toward the door.
Grimmjow cast an inquiring glance at the pair's back but Rangiku shook her head, looking to Kurosaki's stiff form for emphasis. Grimm nodded, inching away from him. Momo quietly stood, brushing her hands over her jeans and button down Henley. Her dark hair was pulled back in two little ponytails on either side of her neck, her expression betraying inner-turmoil. Her heels clicked as she went around the table and into the main office, saying goodbye to Hanataro before her footsteps crossed the length of the outer room and then out into the hallway.
"I guess we'll be—" Grimmjow stepped back as Kurosaki rose, his long vest rumpled at the bottom. He passed by Rangiku and opened the door she stood beside, the entrance to the Administrator's office.
"Kuro--"
It closed with a decisive snap in her face.
"—Saki?"
Rangiku reached for the knob but was interrupted by a thud and limping walk. "You guys had better get going," Renji leaned in the opposite doorway. Her hand clenched at her side as she turned away from the door and what lay beyond, "you're right. Lets go, Grimm."
~~~Coven~~~
Smoke plumes surrounded him, dancing in spherical rings from the slim pipe perched between the man's lips. "I trust I can leave everything up to you?" Aizen queried, his wise all-knowing eyes focused on the hunter before him. "Of course. Just as always." Kurosaki murmured, his gaze on the large antique cherry wood desk, a serpentine ink blotter within reach of an amethyst pyramid holding captive the newest release of test results from the factory.
He couldn't bear to look at the lighter rings of violet color running up the sleek polished sides of the stone; it reminded him of her. Aizen pressed a key on the touch pad board situated in front of the flat Lcd screen computer, an image flashed and a tiny camera followed the movements of Rangiku and Grimmjow as they exited the main lobby and into the parking garage.
"What do you…think of her?"
Kurosaki kept his expression stoic, unyielding, "of who?"
The man smiled, reclining lazily on the plush arm of the black leather chair, "Ms. Kuchiki. Kano's replacement." There was an underlying hint to Aizen's pleasant tone, meant to prod and pick at Kurosaki's guard. He was still for a minute; his brown eyes rising from the dreary stained wood graining to the man's gentle smile.
"You're enjoying this, aren't you?"
Aizen calmly retracted his pipe from his mouth, tapping the lit ashes onto a stone tray near his elbow, "I've no idea what you mean by that. My dear boy."
~~~Flashback~~~
"Ichigo?" Senna lowered the hand she'd raised; pointing the path the witch had taken. The oppressive heat bore down on them; sweat trickled down her high collar, but she didn't bother to wipe it away. Her eyes, vivid, all seeing of emotions, read the discontent radiating from her partner's still form. She went a few steps toward him, batting away leaves from her face; the next she moved revealed shiny gray metal, polished to a high sheen, dull bullets loaded in the chamber.
"I—Ichigo?!!" her mouth parted, her body moving back.
"Ichigooooo!!!!"
~~~*~~~
Kurosaki flinched, his eyes snapping open to stare incredulously at Aizen, whom was refilling his pipe from a rolled packet. "You...""Yes?" he smiled up in return.
"Nothing. I will await any changes to the existing plans. You know how to reach me," Kurosaki went for the door. Aizen called him back, "Ichigo. Your emotions; do not let them control you."
"I promise you. They won't."
~~~*~~~
Sugoi's distance from Raven's 13 made it a better meeting place than Urahara's café. Though, she wasn't alone in the upscale restaurant with rounded leather chairs and low set tables, Hitsugaya and Rukia were just across the room at a corner table, she couldn't help but feel nervous.
Nervous because of that name…
Tobi.
The nickname given to her by an old friend, the daughter of a potential overseas grantee for Solomon HQ. Could it be that…
"Hinamori Momo?"
She looked up at the sound of her name being called by a distinctly familiar voice. "I am Ayako Matsumura. We spoke on the phone earlier?" the delicate way of speaking was not so far from the woman's appearance. Thick curls of honey brown clung heavily to the navy shoulders of the strict business suit with a ruffle-collared cream color blouse beneath it. Momo felt underdressed.
"Pleased to meet you in person, Ms. Matsumura."
"Likewise," Ayako beamed.
~~~*~~~
"So far so good," Hitsugaya murmured, he sat facing Rukia who had her back to the women. Pretending to check her makeup in the purple compact, she lifted it, tilting the reflection to include the space behind her. "She seems wealthy," Rukia said in a low undertone. The Waitress passed by their table, leaving their drinks. Hitsugaya waited until the girl had left before he questioned curiously, "how can you tell?"
"Her clothing. It's foreign bought."
Rukia snapped her compact shut, setting it carefully down on the table, then took a sip of the mint julep she'd ordered. Seeing her companion's focused stare, his abject worry radiating from the look of deep concentration pulled a hesitant smile to her lips.
"Excuse me, Hitsugaya. I have to go to the powder room."
"Go ahead."
He didn't notice her smile widen and the compact disappear in her hand as she walked to the other end of the dining hall where the Waitress had pointed out the restrooms. Once inside, the recessed lighting cast shadows on the empty stalls and blue granite sinks.
Rukia turned the mobile communicator on, attaching the minuscule wire to the plug in beneath the compact's bottom. The square screen lit up, the loader bar flashing. GPS technology linked their cells, but Solomon had a programmer bypass traditional security measures so that agents with enough clearance to do so could hack into the firewall.
She did it now. Sending a message to Rangiku's cell via Kurosaki's letterbox: Change of plans. Join Hinamori to scope out lead. Use name as reference Ayeka Matsumura.
Rukia hit send, shutting the system down as the door began to swing open.
~~~*~~~
Rangiku felt the buzzer rattle her pocket. Lifting her cell out, she immediately saw the red light flashing indicating a message. Leaning forward onto the bar counter, she hunched over the small phone, recognizing Kurosaki's personal code. What could he want now?
Change of plans. Join Hinamori to scope out lead. Use name as reference Ayeka Matsumura.
Rangiku stared at the tiny script sent in uncial typeface. A favorite of his. There was a change of plans? She frowned, glancing over her shoulder to see Rukia pass by to go back to her table with the Chief. Her expression was bland, disinterested in her surroundings. A round lump slightly visible in her hip pocket was recognizable as her cell phone.
Suspicion made her stare at the girl's back. Hitsugaya caught her eye once, shooting a glare for her not to blow their cover. He must not know about Kurosaki's new plan…Abruptly she stood up, gathering her purse by the strap and taking one last swallow of the Peach Melba drink served on the rocks. Depositing a folded bill on the counter, she headed to the back of the room, averting her face from the Chief's incredulous searching look.
"Excuse me," Rangiku said, smiling to Momo's confusion, "are you by any chance related to Ayeka Matsumura?" The woman looked a little surprised, "oh, did you know my sister?" From behind her, she heard the sound of a fist slamming a table and cutlery rattling. Hitsugaya could've been a little more discreet about his annoyance, she thought.
"I met her once. You look a lot like her that's why I thought—" she lied glibly.
"Thank you. Most people say that. But unfortunately Ayeka died in an accident two years ago."
"I'm sorry to hear that. Pardon my curiosity but was it perhaps…on a lake?"
Momo hastily hid her shock, covering it up by lifting her glass to her lips. Ayako blinked, her hand creeping up to her perfectly pink mouth, "why yes. It was a boating accident. My fiancé…was drowned also," she lowered her eyes demurely, pretending, Rangiku could fathom, to wipe away fake remorse. Momo fell for it, patting the woman's sleeve gently, "I'm terribly sorry for your loss."
"Thanks, dear." Ayako smiled a watery smile up at Rangiku, "why don't you join us? You're probably not acquainted with Ms. Hinamori here but I'm sure she wouldn't mind having extra company." The blond Clairvoyant sat down in the empty chair across from the woman, her sorrow seemingly gone for a benevolent smile touched her lips once the other had settled.
"Ms. um—"
"Rangiku Matsumoto."
"Ms. Rangiku then. Tell me…are you by any chance psychic?" Ayako dropped her tone some on the last word, placing emphasis on the implicit suggestion.
"That depends on what you term psychic. I am a Clairvoyant. I see spirits and the other side where the future lies."
"Ah, a vision seeker then. Marvelous," Ayako glanced around, her eyes darting from side to side, "say.
How about you girls accompany me to my office? We can talk more there." Momo cupped her drink with timidity unusual for her common attitude. Rangiku shrugged her shoulders, "that sounds…great! Shall we go then…Ms. Hinamori?"
~~~*~~~
"What was that woman thinking?!" Hitsugaya fumed as he and Rukia left the restaurant. Their suspect along with Momo and the errant Rangiku had left twenty minutes before. He strode to the black Audi, flicking the key control, the headlights flashed with a click. Rukia opened her side and got in, while he fumbled with the door handle and his suddenly ringing cell.
"Yeah?" he answered, giving a hard jerk to the door. She flinched when it slammed, rattling the windshield. "I don't know. She didn't say anything…no of course not. She's here." Rukia looked at him curiously but he waved her off. "You want us to drop by the Coroner's office? He called and said he had something to show you…got it. But wait—where will—where will you be?" Hitsugaya repeated, hearing the person whom she assumed was Kurosaki give his answer, she saw the former hunter's face screw up.
"I see," he said testily, "we'll report b—"
Then he muttered, "bastard," darkly, as the cell announced the other line had disconnected.
"What is it?"
"He wants us to see the Coroner. Said he's got something important to show us."
~~~*~~~
The Tokyo forensics lab was located next door to the squat white building with a glass fronted door and a tan blind over it. A simple sign indicated this to be where the infamous Schiffer-san worked. Rukia stood a little behind Hitsugaya as they were rung in, a thin shadow passed near the blind, the silver knob turning and the door opened outward to reveal a slender black-haired man dressed in a long white lab coat.
His piercing green eyes, of a bright vivid shade scrutinized them carefully, "who are you?" Hitsugaya cleared his throat, placing his hand on his hip above the bottom edge of his black jacket, "Chief of SCG office Raven's 13, Toshiro Hitsugaya. And this is Rukia Kuchiki, our newest hunter. You called Kurosaki earlier-?"
There was an odd, challenging note to Hitsugaya's tone that she didn't understand. The man—she figured must've been Schiffer-san, nodded once; and then stepped back, letting them in. The main reception room was done in light blue colors, from the upholstered chairs lining the wall to the framed beach print of the sea hanging above the receptionist's desk. Not that there actually was one.
In fact they were the only people around it seemed.
It wasn't busy. Schiffer-san explained, walking ahead of them with brisk, efficient strides. Throwing open the morgue door at the end of the hallway, he gestured them inside. All at once, Rukia was assaulted by the smells of rot, the sourness of the chemical preservatives, the astringent on the coroner's hands, as he slipped on a pair of latex gloves, his stainless steel watch reflecting in the overhead light for a second then disappearing.
Hitsugaya stayed back while the coroner placed his hand above the metal chutes, banging his fist against the third in the middle row. The handle popped and he tugged it hard, bring a screech of metallic ringing upon the silence in the room. A sheet lay draped neatly over a small body-shaped figure on the tray. Tossing the cover back dramatically, he revealed it to be the female victim from the early morning murder.
"See this," he pointed his index finger at a circular patch of red on the ghostly white skin, "that's unusual for the death to have been caused by blunt force trauma to the head." Rukia leaned in a little closer beside Schiffer-san; Hitsugaya was on the other side, frowning down at the lifeless corpse. "So what? The police issued a statement based off of what you told them saying that—" he shrugged, "a blunt object had been used as the murder instrument."
"I lied," he replied flatly.
Hitsugaya stared at him, "what?"
"You didn't want the truth of the body's real condition made known," Rukia said quietly. The coroner smiled a little, "you're right, Kuchiki-san. You have permission to address me as Ulquiorra, by the way." Meeting his green-eyed gaze for a minute, her lips quirked upward in response. He really wasn't as bad as what Grimmjow painted him to be: a bastard in league with Kurosaki.
"So was that all?"
Ulquiorra reluctantly dragged his eyes from Rukia to Hitsugaya who looked at them with frowning displeasure. "No. There are other things," he walked to the X-ray board, sliding two charts onto the illuminated screen. "This indicates restricted blood flow to the heart caused a massive heart attack. Yet…there are no other signs that plausibly tie into that theory. More like…" Ulquiorra frowned thoughtfully, "she was frightened almost to the point of death and then crushed by something large."
"Crushed?" Hitsugaya echoed, peering closely at the x-rays.
Rukia glanced at the board, her knowledge limited on medical science. Ulquiorra nodded, "crushed by something and then left for dead. Also I would like to show you—" he led them back to the roll out tray and the victim's frigid body. "—This," he peeled the frozen eyelid back to reveal the congealed eyeball, the brown cornea having changed shape as that of a single M with crisscrossed bars connecting at the points. Rukia gasped, turning away, her hand raised to her mouth. Hitsugaya looked after her then sighed, "we'll inform Kurosaki of this. Please tell the Chief of Police that SCG is stepping in. From now on we have jurisdiction."
~~~*~~~
She popped the lid of her compact open, her nail scraping the tiny clasp to shut it again. The teeny screen of blue telling her that the images of the Autopsy report hadn't developed yet. They had pulled over at Urahara's café, Hitsugaya running inside to pick up an order for the Administrator. He had said he would be right back but twenty minutes had passed and there was still no sign of him.
Rukia cracked the window open a little to allow a cool breeze to permeate the car's stuffy interior. Checking the progress again, she found the document in miniature, displayed in plain text. This version gave the real cause of death, not what Ulquiorra had told the Police. She sat up, peering out the back windows to make sure she was still totally alone, then, carefully inserted a microchip into the slot located on the front of the dashboard Computer.
Seconds ticked by, her violet eyes catching movement from behind the tinted bay windows along the front of the café. Pushing the eject button quickly, the tiny square looked innocuous in her hand. She breathed in, exhaling slowly through her nose; then fit the loaded device into her compact's mainframe. The autopsy report became lost in a world of numbers, running diagonally across the little screen.
The system command drew forth an email address, an anonymous tip line for witnesses' protection. Rukia punched the address into her cell, switching the Internet side on. The file containing the uploaded autopsy report left with rapidity to the Police department's inbox. Soon there'd be more than the Park murders on the news.
Hitsugaya came soon after; smiling apologetically, in his arms was a lunch box of heavenly scented food. "Hey, sorry it took so long. Urahara hadn't filled the order so I had to wait an extra twenty minutes—you all right?" he asked suddenly. His dry tone belied carefully hidden worry. "Yeah. It's nothing," she murmured, her eyes fixed straight ahead.
She was duty bound to carry out her mission.
Even if it meant…
"He seemed to like you," Hitsugaya commented conversationally as he rolled the car to a gentle stop inside a middle parking space in the underground garage. Rukia lifted her head up from leaning against the window, "who are you talking about?"
"Schiffer. He couldn't stop staring at you the entire time we were there."
"You're imagining things," she scoffed, and then lapsed into respective silence. They must not learn her real nature. Hitsugaya shrugged, turning the ignition off, "whatever. I only know what I saw." Another glance around the dimly lit area told him that the two hunters hadn't returned, though, as they entered the side door, the gleam of sleek liquid black caught his eye.
"Kurosaki's here. And I'll bet he won't be pleased," Hitsugaya prophesized.
~~~*~~~
He was right, in a way.
The orange-haired hunter stood scowling over Hanataro's quivering shoulder, the computer flashing out in rapid succession a hack into their firewall. Belatedly, Rukia realized her impromptu code breaking had left a leak somewhere. Possibly it was even Hiyori doing this...
"Something wrong with our security system, Yamada?" Hitsugaya left his jacket hanging over one of the chairs. Renji gave a friendly wave from across the room with his cane, the coffee pot swinging dangerously over the beige carpeting. With practiced ease, a worried look settled on her features and she stepped after Hitsugaya to join Kurosaki at Hanataro's side.
"What is it? A virus?"
"No…it isn't that. Someone's trying to get into our records of Orbo usage. I can't figure out how they got so far in—" he whined, "—my firewall should've been perfect!" Kurosaki propped one hand at his waist the other hung limply at his side, "probably some worm infected the network through one of the terminals. Everyone should leave their cells here for a diagnostic scan—if you need a spare—Ishida can bring one up from storage."
"Good idea," Hitsugaya muttered, immediately unhooking his turquoise one from his belt and placing it on the desk near the bose speakers. Kurosaki left his silver flip side and then looked expectantly to Rukia. "Leave yours, Kuchiki," he said, an unpleasant smile curling his upper lip.
The data trace was still there…
It was a test, she suddenly realized, a test of wits.
Who could expose the other first for the liar they were bound to be?
A saccharine smile touched her mouth, her arms crossing lightly over her thin chest, "I'm sorry, Kurosaki. I seemed to have left it in the Chief's car. I'll go retrieve it right now," she turned on her heel and walked away, her smile only faltering once she'd reached the end of the hallway and the elevator doors.
What was she going to do…?
~~~*~~~
Kurosaki's eyes rolled up to see her walk in, the look in them expectant. Hitsugaya had vanished off into his part of the office behind a couple of Chinese folding screens. Renji sat before the station next to Hanataro's, his skills rudimentary in trying to help repel the intruder.
Rukia clutched the purple phone tight in her fist. Kurosaki held his palm open to receive the cell; wordlessly she dropped the broken plastic pieces into his gloved hand. "Sorry," she said, her smile as tight as his, "I accidentally dropped it on the steps coming back in."
~~~*~~~
It didn't take long for Rangiku to figure out that they weren't heading back to any office in Tokyo. Ayako took the highway out of the sprawling city, her smile reflected satisfaction. Momo sat in the passengers' seat, her fingers absently twirling around a lock of loose hair, childishly. She was afraid but of what?
"I thought we were going to your office? Because if this is where you work…then I'm impressed!"
They had rounded a bend and turning down a narrow road came up in a circular graveled drive. A house stood back in the large clearing, modern-made yet with a sight unfamiliar in Japan—red brick Queen Anne styling displayed over two and a half stories. Ayako beamed with clear pride of ownership, "isn't it grand? My uncle built it for me as a home for me and my husband to be—you know what happened."
Rangiku remembered in time to fix the appropriate look on her face of moderate sorrow for the woman.
"You must miss him a lot."
"Oh, yes. It was such a tragedy…" Ayako trailed off.
I'll bet. Probably did him in herself…in fact, she glanced to the seat next to her, translucent or not, it was a girl wearing a spaghetti strap sundress, that it was a ghost didn't bother Rangiku in the slightest. Except…for the girl's uncanny likeness to the woman sitting in the driver's seat, explaining to Momo about the designer chosen for her house, and the pure hate radiating from the specter's luminous face.
Oh boy. This could get complicated.
Ayako finally ran out of steam, apologizing to the hunters for keeping them outside. She led them single file up the brick pathway, ringing the doorbell when her knock didn't precipitate an immediate response. Footsteps shook the glass panes, a shadow crossed over the inset, the door swung open slowly by the pudgy hand of a middle-aged woman. Gray hair done up in a chignon secured by two heavy lacquered Chinese sticks, her mandarin collared jacket fastened over her bulging mid-section heaved forward, threatening to burst open at the seams.
"My dear! You gave us quite a fright!" the old woman wheezed.
Rangiku raised an eyebrow at the use of us, meaning more than one. Ayako chuckled, finding her elder's indignation amusing, "you'll forgive me, Yuya-san. These two—have been gifted by the Goddess—" she waved grandly at Momo whom shrunk beneath the piercing blue eye made more imposing by a tiny monocle suspended by a gold chain, then sighed a little relieved as the scrutiny passed from her to the Clairvoyant.
After a moment of steady eye contact, Yuya nodded, "I can sense the craft field around this one. More so than the other—you girl, you're Hinamori Momo?"
"Yes, ma'am."
"Later on, speak up. I can't hear your mousy voice. And you are?"
The old lady changed tracks fast, beady eyes narrowed in suspicion.
"Matsumoto Rangiku," she answered crisply, "But if I may say so, Ms. Matsumura, Yuya-san, just why have we been brought here?"
~~~*~~~
They were blindfolded with plain white cloths. Ayako guided Rangiku from behind, while Yuya Asahi dragged along Momo. These women…Matsumura from the great investing firm, Asahi from Asahi communications…they weren't simple peasants to be burned at the stake. Rich witches.
Definitely not good…
The hallway they were in abruptly ended and the sound of a door being opened and a gentle push by Ayako, warned Rangiku of the shallow steps they were descending. Darkness hovered at the edges of the bind so she quickly deduced them entering the basement with perhaps a little candlelight near the bottom. Touching down on bottom, her heels encountered carpeting not dirt or flagstone as the stone floors from the hallway above had been. A slight rustle of clothing indicated Momo just a bit away to Rangiku's left.
Their blinds were taken off with a flourish and Ayako backed away, an expectant gleam in her flashing dark eyes. The shift from black to glaring light, made Rangiku squint, women in trailing black cloaks stood on raised pillars in a circle around them. Hoods hid otherwise identifiable features and not seeing the old lady anymore, figured she must have joined her sisters in the Coven's council convening.
"Panzier Magier, Matsumura Ayako, you have brought two new inductees to our attention. What makes you believe these young women are worthy of joining us?" questioned the single crimson-cloaked woman in the group. The old lady must be the Coven mother…thought Rangiku, recognizing the portly woman's wheeze.
Ayako clasped her hands to her chest, in a dramatic gesture, "you honor me, Coven mother! By granting me the authority to seek out Hecate's blessed ones!"
There you have it: Coven Mother.
"Get on with it," the old woman snapped in annoyance.
It's probably getting near her time for a bridge club meeting.
"Well! As you know our newest member, Tsubokura-chan, recalled her friend of olden days, Hinamori Momo and the secret of the craft she had shared when they were young. Now…I present to you this girl and the craft of water she possesses!"
A dozen heads turned instantly upon Momo, blushing furiously, she lowered her eyes respectfully to the floor. Yuya tottered a little closer to the edge of her dais, "indeed? Laguz is it? Prove it then." Rangiku watched worriedly as her fellow hunter closed her eyes tightly, her mouth reciting silent words to control and dominate all water. Pale light encircled her feet, illuminating in a solid curved arc the field of the twenty-first rune Laguz.
The women as a collective gasped when the first minuscule tornado spiral of clear liquid appeared up from the previously dry flooring. Rangiku felt the inner vortex of Momo's concentration funneling into her own withheld field, expanding it, bringing into sharper focus the remaining unread members of the Coven. Ayako, Rangiku now saw, possessed an S-class user's ability of the craft of fear: Mannaz also known as the rune of mankind, however, that was simply misleading as the primary strength of it was reading into the subject's unconscious fears and turning them into horrific visions.
Yuya had heightened intuitive senses along with a hint of Ansuz, the spoken word. She'd have to be more careful around that one—particularly involving questions of truth. Another woman off to the left controlled Uruz, the dangerous unrelenting crush of irresistible force. A spark of light caught her attention and focusing on it, she recognized Kaunaz, a fire thrower.
Not good either.
Suddenly the room grew quiet and Momo hung her head, her strength was spent. Water settled in puddles all over the room, creating soggy spots on the crimson Mohair. Rangiku felt their expectation and knew even before the old woman announced it; it was her turn.
What to do…
Visions couldn't be summoned out of thin air like water or ice could. The drawbacks to her craft had often irked Kurosaki when she wasn't able to exploit it for a case by seeing the future. But then again…these old witches wouldn't be so hard to impress.
She pretended to concentrate, only feeling a low murmur of the power that had surrounded them all moments before. Rangiku tapped into it, drawing out the essence, allowing it to fuel her own power, images then came.
"I see black, metal clinking, screams. Smoke and now…fire." She pronounced in epic tones merely for the sake of drama. It had the effect she desired. Ayako hissed softly, her arms crossing in her navy suit, the women on the small pillars shifted anxiously until Yuya spoke as the voice of reason.
"Can you be a little more specific, Matsuka-san?" the old lady's biting tone didn't escape Rangiku's notice, her gray eyes fluttered open to stare at the crimson figure. "It's Matsumoto-san," she replied still sounding respectful yet cutting at the same time, "and the events I am allowed a glimpse of…cannot be rushed. Even you must know this, Coven Mother."
"Indeed I do…"
~~~*~~~
"I can't believe you had the guts to talk back to her!" hissed Momo as they stood apart in Ayako's upstairs parlor, tastefully decorated in floral motifs. Rangiku swirled her Merlot, with regret dumping it into the silk potted plant next to her. She would not touch anything they offered her.
Momo with an uneasy glance around; followed suit, leaving her full glass on the oak sideboard. Nobody noticed and when a wispy blond woman walked up playing as waiter to the guests, offered her another glass which she took with a murmur of thanks. Rangiku smiled a little, shaking her head at the refill proffered.
"I've been trying to cut back." She explained.
"A glass a day is the best for health reasons," Ayako chimed in, leaving the group of women in the corner to sail across the room to join them. "Although I myself sometimes indulge in a little extra libation every once in a while." Her indulgent smile made it plain for Rangiku to take another glass. The tray was extended and slowly she slipped her fingers around the stem.
"So how are you finding our little gathering, Rangiku, Momo?"
The two hunters came abruptly close to flinching at the note of pride in the Magier's voice. "I've never felt so much a part of something before," Rangiku managed to say after a tense moment of silence. Momo nodded vigorously in agreement. Ayako surveyed them with a banal smile, "I'd imagine so. Laymen like what inhabit the world cannot fully appreciate our existence. Such as that horrid organization-Solomon-starting the witch hunts after years of freedom from persecution! Filth!" she spat.
Uncomfortably, they exchanged looks; what Ayako had said was true. Solomon had resurrected the witch-hunts of olden days; their thinking however was quite different than that of religious men who had instigated the persecution of helpless women. Indeed in HQ there wasn't nary a torture device to be found. Their understanding of the twenty-four crafts and planetary influences that guided the flow of power into individuals was what constituted the term: Witch.
Witches did not make pacts with the devil to gain their powers; Solomon had always stressed that particular issue in defiance of the zealots whose actions caused the mass killings worldwide. Rangiku pretended to sympathize with Ayako's beliefs while in turn struggling to keep a façade of seeming interest in the darker words imparted by the witch.
It was hard not to condemn the two German inquisitors, Heinrich Kramer and Jakob Sprenger whose immortal work on the thesis of witchcraft the Malleus Maleficarum paved the way for the Catholic Church to take in hand the judgment of innocent men and women accused of being witches. The reigning Pope Innocent VIII had lent his support to the men in eradicating the maleficent influences from his lands yet some had still resisted even going as far to accuse Kramer of being senile.
Rangiku had seen a preserved copy of the Malleus on display at Solomon HQ. The tortures explained in graphic detail as to the proceedings to be taken by high officers in handling cases of suspected witchcraft, had turned her stomach. They had come a long way from that.
"Ms. Ayako," one of the women called.
"What is it, Fuu?"
"The Coven mother has made her judgment, she wishes for the audiences of yourself and the girls to be in the drawing room," the woman's tentative voice didn't match her looks. Unlike Ayako, they weren't as perfectly matched. Rangiku smiled to Fuu as they passed, receiving a warm maternal reply as answer.
"She's not like us," Ayako commented abruptly; Momo closed the door behind them and kept in step as they proceeded down another longer hallway. "What do you mean?" she questioned a little worriedly.
"She's not a blessed one."
"She's not a witch," Rangiku corrected without thinking.
Ayako looked at her for a second then smiled faintly, "yes. It's that exactly. Her mother was one of our Coven's founders and when the Magisterium passed on to Hecate's realm on the moon—her daughter was placed in Yuya-san's custody.
"Why hers?"
"Because."
Ayako indicated for them to shush, her hand trembled, betraying her nervousness in the other woman's presence. She opened the door. The portly old lady stood at the arched window, assuming a stance of elegant disdain when she turned to address them, "you sure took your time in coming here, my dear."
Rangiku had the sense to feel a touch of real sympathy for the woman as she blushed charmingly. "I offer my apology in my faults, Coven mother. Please convey the wishes of the Council upon us," Ayako said respectfully. Momo flinched when Yuya surveyed them again.
"These two," she began in a booming voice, "have been chosen to undergo the rights of initiation to our Coven. Formalities aside there are three tasks you must perform to the best of your abilities, selected appropriately to your personal powers. One has been completed. You have proved your crafts to us. Foresight and the control of water are particularly of use to us since not one currently in the group has these gifts. Secondly, you must prove your womanhood and worship of the Goddess by participating in the wild Hunt then thirdly you will be presented with a task that will require the use of your power in a life—or death situation."
Rangiku did not like the sound of that.
Shortly thereafter they were dismissed with a haughty sniff and Ayako led them back downstairs and out the foyer to her car. They never got a chance to meet Tsubokura-chan who had recommended Momo to the Coven, but Rangiku had her suspicions as to the skulking figure of a short girl that promptly dove into one of the bottom floor rooms as they descended the stairs.
Momo said nothing, her hazel eyes fixed glumly ahead, neither word nor gesture Rangiku dared to part on her behalf seeing as Ayako watched them closely the entire ride back to Tokyo…
~~~Raven's 13~~~
His face remained set in a harsh frown, his brown eyes on the background report drawn up by Hanataro, before their firewall was breached. Rukia pretended interest in studying old case files handed to her by Hitsugaya's assistant Ishida, but time after time, her gaze would wander to the man's impassive countenance. Seeing it darken every once and a while when he came across something not matching previous documents.
Finally she couldn't stand it.
"Was there discrepancies in Matsumura's background?"
Kurosaki looked up quickly, she was peering over his shoulder, leaning in close. "Yeah," he answered, suddenly finding his mouth had gone dry. Rapid typing and muffled mutterings punctuated the general quiet in the office. "What's off then?" Rukia brushed aside the single stubborn bang hanging directly in her face. Kurosaki distractedly reshuffled the papers on the desk, averting his eyes from her; he'd been staring too long for his own good.
"A couple of things. For instance," he started reading off the highlighted paragraph, "at the ages of ten and seven, Ayako and her younger sister Ayeka Minatsuki were orphaned by a car accident that took both their parents lives. Witnesses at the scene claimed Mr. Minatsuki simply lost control of the vehicle when his wife began screaming and flailing at him for no apparent reason. Terror, they said, seemed to have taken a hold of her senses."
"Mannaz," Rukia intoned.
Kurosaki nodded, "the craft of fear. One month later, Minatsuki's prosperous Uncle, who was childless, legally adopted both girls as his daughters—the old man died last year of third degree burns that had consumed him as he lay sleeping in bed. The conflagration didn't touch any of the sheets or wall hangings, so his death remains a mystery."
The petite hunter frowned, "spontaneous combustion?" she suggested, taking the seat next to him. Kurosaki leaned on the desktop, his chin propped in his broad hand, "perhaps," he said with a mysterious smile, "but I'm willing to bet on one of Ayako's friends being a user of Kaunaz."
"Ah…" Rukia allowed her face to take on a look of slight awe; of course she'd known all that already. HQ had the details on every single witch in Hecate's Coven, including that of the renegade daughter of one of Solomon's financiers, Rin Tsubokura. It was simply SCG-J's luck that they were needed in bringing down a potential threat to HQ's dream becoming a reality…
The phone rang, somewhere else in the office it was answered. Kurosaki quietly read on and Rukia, having abandoned her old research, checked her short nails in imitation of one of their missing hunters. "No! That can't be—I'm sorry—we didn't—no, of course not!!!" Hitsugaya snarled, outraged. Kurosaki lowered the papers from his face, peering over the top.
"Goodbye!!!" The Chief stalked in after slamming the phone down on its cradle. "Who was it?" the lead hunter asked, feigning interest in his perusals. Hitsugaya threw him dagger looks; Hanataro cringed lower in his seat, trying to look as inconspicuous as possible.
"All right! I want to know who informed the Police of the changes made to the autopsy report! That was—" he breathed in, "Tosen calling to let me know—SCG has no right—moral or influence—over the honest work done by honest citizens to protect the populace from mass murderers—"
Rukia muted him, ignoring his tirade. So they'd received it already. HQ's plans were working out so far to satisfaction.
~~~*~~~
Many street blocks away, in a small economic apartment, a black cat stretched. Sleek jet muscles rippled, tendons snapped, joints elongated into elegant hands and legs. Her transformation complete, a nude woman padded barefoot to the closed front window. She parted the regulation navy drapes to peer yellow-green eyed out into the gathering sunset.
A sigh, heavy, unheard but for her own ears; there was work to be done.
~~~*~~~
Grimmjow was caught at severe unawares. The woman pounced on him the moment he had walked in and latched the door, the chain bolt still rattling as he hit the carpeting. His head reeling, he glimpsed a pair of feet belonging to a mocha-skinned woman wearing his clothes. "Get up!" she nudged him bossily in the stomach. Grimmjow rolled into a crouching position, pulling his service weapon out and flicking the safety off.
"I am a Police officer, put your hands above—"
She laughed, her loose, rippling violet hair caressing the shoulders of the oversize T-shirt hanging in folds on her lean frame. "Think you can order me around and well—you've got another thing coming!" The woman moved so fast, he didn't her coming until his gun flew from his hand, skating across the room to land beneath the sofa's end table.
What was she—a crazed martial artist—robber?!
"Now Grimmy, I expect you to cooperate." The woman leaned back on her haunches, smiling a toothy grin that for some odd reason reminded him of the Cheshire cat. "C-cooperate in what?" he kept his stuttering to a minimum, his teal eyes darting to where his gun lay—a good six feet away, the entire length of the room. Who the fuck was she?
"You're friendly with the SCG hunters, aren't you?" she asked suddenly, her unnaturally bright eyes on him. "Yeah," Grimmjow answered hesitantly, wondering if this was Kurosaki's idea of a joke-if it was then he'd die.
"I want to know…has a new hunter arrived by the name of Kuchiki Rukia?"
Startled, his expression said it all. The woman nodded slowly, "I see then. He sent her after all." Since Grimmjow had no idea who this 'he' was, somebody connected with the little petite ice wielder obviously, but how…? "You're from Solomon," the thought occurred to him and he spoke it aloud. For a genuine moment, the woman looked rather surprised, then recovered, her grin widening, "was. Am. However you'd prefer to think—personally I don't give a damn. I'm here to watch over somebody—and you're going to have to help me."
"And—if I refuse?"
"I'll kill you right now and climb into the black SUV waiting in the back parking lot."
Seeing the terror written clearly in his expression, she chuckled shortly, "Heh. Just kidding! –About the killing you part. I need someone to act as my go-between, tell me everything of what little Rukia does. I will meet her soon…but now's not the time."
"So…you're just going to use me?" Grimmjow watched warily as the woman rose and paced away to the sofa, sitting in the last corner and folding her legs upward allowing him a glimpse of familiar black boxer shorts; she'd even stolen his underwear! "Yes. Does that bother you?" she demanded, her fine jaw line set in defiance. "N-no," he answered hastily, climbing to his feet.
"Good. Yoruichi."
"Huh?"
"My name is Yoruichi. That's all you need to know, Mr. Grimmjow Jeagerjaques. Oh—get me some fresh milk if you're going out—the carton you have is spoiled!" Yoruichi made it sound as if having soured milk was a crime. Grimmjow stared at her, his left eye twitching. She snickered, waving him away, "don't even think about turning me in either. I can have you slashed to bits by Uruz before you could even make the call—or if you preferred—burnt to an ashen mass with Kaunaz. It's your choice."
"Non-fat?" he went immediately for the door.
Yoruichi settled more comfortably against the plushy cushions, looking for the entire world like an exotic queen and Grimmjow—her servant. "Whole…and," her eyes flashed mischievously, "organic!"
As he left, grumbling to himself, he considered the undeniable fact that ever since he'd joined in on the SCG hunt involving the murderous ghost—bad things had happened quite frequently to him. Maybe this was a sign he wasn't meant to be an honorary witch hunter…
~~~*~~~
"—I can't believe the—oh, Mr. Aizen!" Hitsugaya turned around at the sound of footsteps exiting the meeting area. Rukia snapped out of her reverie in time to see the SCG administrator exchange a glance with Kurosaki, the latter almost imperceptibly indicating no. Nobody had noticed that, no one but her. She lowered her hand, laying it casually on the desk's top, assuming a pose of idle boredom.
A chair creaked somewhere in the room and Renji spoke, he'd been conversing in quiet tones with someone on the mainline. Replacing the receiver back on the cradle, he turned glum eyes to the rest of them, "bad news. Rangiku says they're both to participate in a wild hunt, four days from now. Also she thinks not to arouse suspicion, neither should come in for a few days just to clear the air."
"Makes sense," Hitsugaya agreed. Rukia felt the administrator's eyes on her and she attempted to smile. "I don't believe we've formally met," Aizen exclaimed in mild tones. Knowing this to be an implicit gesture of derision on his part, she decided to play along with it. "Rukia Kuchiki, sir," she said, going over to stand before the tall man. He appraised her with a fatherly look, "Sosuke Aizen, but you must've known already! HQ keeps close watch on all their employees."
Kurosaki's stare was boring into her back; reluctantly she grasped the hand Aizen held out to her. "It's nice meeting you, sir," Rukia tried to match her tone to her words, but thinking she'd failed dismally, smiled widely as cover up. "I've heard much on your genetic expertise in the field of witch genes and how many have tried to duplicate the passage of the craft," she couldn't resist adding.
"Indeed. Then Solomon honors me by taking such an interest in this particular hobby of mine," Aizen answered sedately, his face betraying nothing. "Hobby, sir?" she questioned politely, aware all the time of the other people in the room. "Yes, hobby. It's a sort of obsession to under—" he paused as the phone rang and Hanataro was the quickest to answer it.
"Something else? No—we know. Kurosaki? He's here—you don't—I see. Sure—I'll tell her—urgent you say? No, she doesn't. Fine. B—" the boy flinched when the line clicked off abruptly, swiveling around, he delivered the message, "that was the coroner. Said he's found something in the medical records pertaining to Ms. Matsumura's deceased sister that we should know about."
"Does he know about the Police finding out?" Kurosaki asked frowningly. Hanataro shrugged, "yeah. He didn't seem to care particularly. Just that he wants—"
"I'll go," Kurosaki interrupted.
"N-no. You can't. He asked for Ms. Rukia especially," Hanataro looked to her, as did Hitsugaya slightly accusingly. Renji whistled, "wonder what Grimm would think of his competition?" He snickered behind his hand, then, immediately sobered, catching a frosty glare from cold brown eyes.
"Kuchiki isn't a full hunter yet. It would be unwise for us to allow her—"
"Ichigo," Aizen smoothly interceded, "Rukia was sent to us as a certified hunter from Solomon HQ. She is more than qualified to handle a bit of info passing onto us. Besides that, I can drop her off at the coroner's office—I'm on my way to the Police department to have a word with Tosen."
"Mr. Aizen, let me go. It was—" Hitsugaya began with the deepest remorse inflecting his tone. Rukia saw Kurosaki's jaw tighten, his eyes narrowing in response to the ordered stand down by his superior. He hadn't expected her to be defended by the very man he was employed to. Seemingly blissfully unaware of the tensions rising in the room, Aizen smiled gently, "there's no need, Toshiro. I already called ahead to warn him that I'd be stopping by."
"But I—"
"Let it go, 'Shiro," Kurosaki muttered, earning him a daggers look. "It's not your fault," Rukia chimed in sympathetically, indeed knowing it wasn't. Renji hobbled over to the shorter man, smacking the small shoulder in a friendly gesture, "ah, cheer up, 'Shiro! You need to—"
"I thought I told you not to call me that!" Hitsugaya snarled, shoving the hand from his shoulder angrily. Pretending wounded pride, Renji knitted his red brows together in a scowling pout, "waagh! Meanie Hitsugaya—"
"Shut up!" the Chief stalked back to his lair behind the screens; though, he was heard muttering, juvenile mentality, and fool. Kurosaki watched him disappear then leaned back in his chair, "idiot," the lead hunter commented to Renji whom merely feigned innocence. Aizen jiggled his keys meaningfully, "shall we go, Rukia?"
~~~*~~~
Alone with the man wasn't something particularly desirable that she wished for, Aizen's handling of SCG had been satisfactory to some, while others in the field complained of his laxity in punishing witches whom had otherwise broken Solomon's laws. Father Kuchiki was one, speaking openly about the administrator's obvious difference in mindset in relation to the subjugation of witches and the eradication of certain crafts. It was no surprise then, that Rukia shared her guardian's harsh views.
"Turn left here?" Aizen questioned, they were at a four-way stoplight. His car, a sleek silver Mercedes Benz imported from America, rumbled quietly with the whir of the defroster running. Rukia glanced at the street sign positioned above the intersection, "yeah. It's that way." She expected him to make the turn but contrary to her directions, he went the opposite way.
"If you don't mind, I'd like to take you along on a little drive," he explained cheerfully. Rukia kept her expression stony, keeping only the side of her profile to him as she watched unseeingly as the familiar streets passed them by. "How are your thoughts on Kurosaki?" Aizen sprung the question on her suddenly, observing the petite hunter's reaction.
She shrugged her shoulders nonchalantly in response. "He's just a person," she elaborated when Aizen remained quiet. "Just a person or as the Kano family believe—a cold-hearted murderer?" His voice was still polite and cautiously curious though Rukia sensed an underlying taunt beneath the man's exterior.
"I've never met Mr. and Mrs. Kano, so I have no idea as to their feelings on Kurosaki."
"Really now? Hana Kano has a position as a field-training officer in the Solomon academy. I'd have thought that a graduate such as you would've had plenty of contact with Mrs. Kano over the years," Aizen theorized. Stopping at an intersection light again, he slid his gaze over to her, the look in them snide, probing as if he could see straight through her into her mind.
"Let me off," she said quietly, snapping the buckle on her seatbelt. "Whatever are you talking about, my dear? The corner's office is—" Aizen then lost his worried look. Rukia paused, her hand on the elongated plastic pull; to run away now would be an admission to her guilt. And he knew that.
With forced remorse, she slid back into the seat, her belt snapping back into place, "forgive me for being rude, sir. But—please. Mrs. Kano is a kind woman—I wouldn't have said so…but I grieve terribly for her loss. Whether Kurosaki was involved directly or not."
Aizen seemed a little disappointed, "I see. Then I understand. Senna was a member of our team for two years—we were all deeply affected by her untimely demise."
The man could've been an actor with the way his emotions changed from night to day, malicious to almost kindly. He stayed silent for the rest of the ride to the coroner's office, pensive about the death of Senna. Had he really mourned her as he said? Frustratingly, Rukia couldn't tell. She received one last gentle smile from the man before he drove off away from the cement curb outside of the squat building. She breathed in tiredly and began walking up to the door.
~~~*~~~
Ulquiorra let her in promptly; his bright green eyes surveyed the knotted expression on her face all at once realizing something was off. "Did something happen?" he questioned quietly on their way to the morgue. Rukia rubbed her cheeks, guessing they must be horridly pale, "not really. Just…stressed."
"If you're so stressed then…how about dinner on Friday?" he pushed the door open and let her enter first. Violet eyes blinked; was he asking her out on a date? Proved by his next sentence, "I merely wished to see you again among other things. I found I could not rid my thoughts of your countenance."
Huh?
"Come again?" she said, feeling suddenly like they were in a cheesy period novel. Ulquiorra let the door swing shut, his eyes fixated on her face. "I meant what I said. Never have I discovered a woman as appealing to me as you." Her mouth felt as if it were stuffed with cotton, "um…thanks I guess. But I—"
"You have no boyfriend," he filled in for her dryly.
"How do you know?"
"I asked when I called the office."
Hanataro…she silently stewed.
"Yes, then?"
Rukia stared hard into his somewhat pale, yet delicately handsome face. Lucky. She should consider herself lucky that she didn't repulse this man, as others would've been if they'd known the truth. But all she could think of…was cold appraising brown eyes, a firm yet sensual mouth that promised pleasure and…
"I'll have to think about it. Soon," she added, noting the disappointment that flickered through his eyes. After a moment, he shrugged, "I can't force you. There was however a small fact I had discovered about that woman's sister that I thought you should know about. I didn't absolutely lie to your superiors."
"I didn't think you had."
"Thank you. Anyway," he strode over to the metal cart and stacked files on top of it. Rifling through one, Ulquiorra traced his finger down a list of names of surrogate mothers. Despite herself, Rukia drew nearer and read off quietly the one he had stopped on, "Mina Asahi-? Not Ayame Minatsuki?"
"Apparently the couple had a hard time conceiving and hired a young Surrogate to foster Ayako, the elder sister—"
"But you said this was about—"
"I'm getting to it now," Ulquiorra interrupted patiently, "if Ayako was born from an artificially inseminated womb then that would make her…"
"Ayeka's half-sister." Rukia finished for him, then inhaled sharply, realizing the consequences of what he had just imparted to her. The Minatsuki family as a whole bore no strains of any of the twenty-four crafts, neither buried as far as four degrees back, so where had Ayako's power come from? They had wondered.
But now the pieces fit together, what HQ knew and the single remaining piece given to her by the unsuspecting coroner. Yuya Asahi, Coven mother of Hecate's Coven and witch in her own right…was the Grandmother of Ayako Matsumura.
~~~*~~~
A copse of yew trees? Rangiku stared through the windshield of her car, looking out into dense woodlands; a few other vehicles such as Ayako's blue Volvo were parked along the other side. No one was in sight, snapping her belt buckle off and setting the brakes so it wouldn't roll, she exited the sedan, the sound of the door slamming disturbing the silence.
She stood for a few seconds, stock still, listening for anything. No birds chirped in the closely grown tangle of heavy limbs, the sky a leaden gray all afternoon, foretold of a coming storm that Tokyo weather report had forecasted. Then, a branch crackled underfoot, Rangiku tensed, almost reaching for the holster that was no longer under her cashmere sweater.
Ayako swatted a low hanging branch from her face, appearing next to her, Momo, in dark denim and a pale olive green blouse. "Rangiku! You made it!" the woman cried happily. The Clairvoyant had the gumption to look the littlest bit sheepish, "Yeah. Turns out, the meeting wasn't scheduled until next week. Dumb blond, huh?"
"I wouldn't say that," Ayako said chidingly. Flipping a hand through the damp curls dusting her shoulders; she proceeded to explain the reason of the wild hunt. "Ten women of the Coven compete for the singular honor of mating with our own Ullr."
Mating?
"You mean it's a sex rite?" Rangiku's eyebrow rose; usually witches never displayed wanton behavior as described by the Malleus and other basic theories present during the ancient witch hunts. "Oh, I wouldn't say sex rite, per se." Ayako's smile took on a wicked glint. Momo rubbed her hands together, seeming rather chilled from the wind rattling the trees, her cheeks however were a bright red.
"What do you mean, Aya-san?" she asked bravely.
Ayako winked, turning away at the sound of Fuu's voice coming from the left.
"You'll see…" the Magier left with ominous words.
~~~*~~~
The gathered women were to split up in the forest of the yews, their singular goal in being the first one to find a secret hidey-hole where the human male version of Adonis-or-the virile dangerous wild hunter Ullr was to be found. Personally, Rangiku couldn't think of a more retarded reason for wandering around on a dark stormy night then this.
Cursing over a mossy tree root, she climbed to her feet. Jodhpur boots squelching into a hidden mud hollow from earlier rains. Various other sounds as the Coven witches bumbled around in the darker parts of the forest came to her ears. Ayako wasn't participating. Those of high rank merely sat back and watched the proceedings with an air of entertainment. This year's man-or-men as the Magier had let slip to her during the initial rule informing, were especially hot.
Curiously, Rangiku wondered if she knew them. SCG had been told of the night of the wild hunt. Orders from them had been to join in and act normal as if she was even excited about whatever trials they put her through to be a part of the sister sorority. Dismayed, she stumbled again, her thoughts preoccupied with the hunt ahead. Her sweater snagged on a branch, halting her fall. Annoyed, she yanked angrily at it, leaving a large rent in the fabric.
I'll just get a new one—huh? Incense?
A sharply sweet smell wafted on a light breeze, following it carefully, Rangiku rounded the offending tree and its roots to come upon a tiny clearing hidden by foliage. Fuu, clothed in a loose fitting white robe without hood, held a censer of incense. A smile welcomed the hunter, and a beckoning indicated that she wasn't the only one to find the place.
Momo stepped out from under a low overhanging limb, dried leaves crackled in her dark hair as she surveyed the tiny area lit by torchlight with mounting trepidation. "Welcome, girls." Fuu said solemnly, "You have found this sacred place of holy magic. Please step closer and choose a door," she waved a pudgy hand to beaded doorways, Rangiku hadn't noticed before, "and partake of the wild hunters' seed."
That didn't sound too pleasant.
Momo went a few steps nearer; her eyes large and frightened like a doe's. Rangiku smiled sympathetically, joining her before the set of doors. "Beyond here, right?" she questioned, meaning hers of a thick crimson sewn with ruby red glass tubes. Fuu nodded. Rangiku took a deep breath, trying to appear excited about the ravishing she was supposed to receive; a certificate to an expensive spa would've been more appealing.
Patting Momo once on the back, Rangiku entered hers, letting the door hiss softly closed behind her. The room she came into was low ceilinged with the crimson canopy above proving it was a tent, the floor was earthen colored but was actually an oversized rug, her heels padded with little noise to the center. Looking around, she didn't see any virile wild hunter; her mouth drawing up into a frown; if this was a joke…
Suddenly her eyes, growing accustomed to the weak light noticed a creeping shadow coming up to her from the left. Rangiku clenched her fist, jabbing backward at the appropriate time. Her elbow slammed into a bare chest, reaching behind for the offending wrist, she flipped him over her shoulder easily. A man crashed heavily onto the carpeting, his fire engine red hair sticking out frizzily despite the concealing facemask placed on him to hide his identity.
But Rangiku would know him anywhere.
Renji!!!
She didn't dare yell out, but her furious face when he looked up sheepishly said it all; Kurosaki had undoubtedly conned him into it. Before she could punch him anymore, a scream erupted from the other side of the fabric wall. Rangiku pivoted around to rush to Momo's aid.
Who knows…it could've been Kurosaki himself harassing her.
A firm hand wrapped around her ankle, glancing down, she saw him mouth, no.
Why not? She glared.
Grimmjow, Renji jerked his thumb at the muffled sounds of a struggle. Rangiku looked unconvinced, but sat down obediently on the bed placed near the back wall. As if Kurosaki would have gone himself to do the dirty work…
~~~To be continued in Witch CH.12~~~
9-7-2009
AN: Combining and adding a little really did make it long, phew! :) Anyway here's a little of a real-life incident that happened to me earlier: "In the name of the Father, the Son and…" I hesitated on my recital, "and the evil spirit—wait! I mean Holy Spirit! Dammit!" And so that's what comes of thinking of Manga while studying something-namely manga like Fushigi Yugi! Well that said and done, thanks for reading and reviews are appreciated. :)