Chapter Four: One-Note Villain

Buying time to think, Greg looked back down at the photos, examining them with a predator's razor-sharp focus. Letting the tactical part of his brain analyze the angles, trying to figure out where the photographer had been. He couldn't afford to think like Marina's ex-fiancé, couldn't let himself regard her and her family as anything other than civilians under his protection. If he let this become personal, the subjects would have an edge. A knife to twist – right in his back after he left himself exposed.

Lifting his head, he deliberately gazed over Marina's shoulder at the nearby wall. "Describe the subjects."

She inhaled surprise; his peripheral vision caught her lifting a hand towards his chin and he intercepted with a frown and a shake of the head. "Greg?"

"You want my help, Marina? Then you have to work with me. At my pace." He dared to stare her right in the eyes before averting his gaze again. "Describe the subjects."

It took her a moment to rally, but he'd known she would. With a nod, she glanced down at the floor, idly tracing a pattern on her purse. "It…it was a little clothes resale shop, Greg. Dark inside, darker than it should've been. Not…" She choked, lifting a hand to her mouth. "Not enough light to really see the clothing. And the carpet was somewhat ragged."

He held up a finger to halt her recitation and turned back towards his team, hands already moving in request. Jules' eyes widened and she hurried over with her black binder; he nodded thanks as he took binder and pen – he'd left his in the Command Truck a week ago and kept forgetting to grab it.

While Jules was still next to him, he handed her both photos, the envelope, and the message Marina had written. "Keep it discreet, but we need protection on the family, Jules. Mother especially; she's physically compromised."

"Copy, Sarge," Jules acknowledged. Gazing past him at Marina, she smiled. "We're going to do our best to protect your family, Marina."

Tears budded, but Marina dredged up a return smile. "Thank…thank you, Jules."

"Sarge, anything else?"

"Not yet, Jules." Shifting back to Marina, he flipped the binder open to a fresh page and uncapped the pen. Words flowed easily onto the page – Marina's statement, his initial thoughts and impressions, and the SRU's response thus far. When he'd caught up, he nodded for his ex-fiancé to continue.

Marina swallowed hard, hands wringing together as she cast her mind back. "The woman at the counter, she knew who I was." Distress knit her features tight. "And there was something about her, Greg. Just…wrong…"

"But not anything you could pin down?" Parker offered, earning a nod. His pen moved for a few seconds, drawing a surprised blink. He smiled at her, wan, but determined. "Instinct. Sometimes it tells us stuff we never coulda figured out otherwise. We don't discount it, even if it's vague."

She blinked again, then nodded and sniffled. "I went up a flight of stairs. They were waiting for me. Emilia and another woman."

The pen stilled. "Emilia?"

The blonde flushed a deep red, shame draping her figure once more. Unable to look up, Marina whispered, "She…she's the one who…who hurt him…"

Fury stirred, protective instincts growling offense. He shunted his inner gryphon aside, mentally slamming it into a cage – his expression hardly even twitched. "The witch you refused to identify."

Staring fixedly at the ground, Marina nodded hard. "She…" Stopping, she lifted a hand, as if fighting against herself. "She's blonde, like me. Maybe a shade darker. Long hair, down to her shoulders at least. High-class, if…if you know what I mean." He nodded once, leaning in to prompt more information. "Cold, though. Haughty. Like the world owes her something and she intends to collects."

Reminded of a brunette sorceress with a fixation on himself and his team, Parker grimaced. "I know just the type." Sensing Marina was done, he wrote down her description in a brisk shorthand he knew Eddie could read. "What about the other woman? Do you know her name?"

Marina shook her head. "No, I'd never seen her before." She hesitated, thinking hard, turning an idea over in her mind. "Greg…I think…I think they were sisters." She stopped, biting one nail. "I mean, they looked nothing alike, but…"

"But you got that sense?" he offered.

"Yes," Marina breathed. "Brunette; dark to Emilia's light. Her eyes were emerald; Emilia's are brown."

"Short hair?" Greg suggested jokingly, only to frown at his ex-fiancé's absent headshake.

"No, long. As long as Emilia's or a little longer." Marina halted again, staring at the ground so fiercely that the lieutenant glanced down himself, just to make sure it was the same dark granite tile as always. "Her eyes were different. Emilia, she doesn't see me as anything." The slim woman's jaw twisted in fear and indignation. "I'm a mouse."

Ouch. He reached out, touching her arm. Waited until her eyes came up to meet his. "Marina. A mouse doesn't come out of hiding to save her employee from an obsessed gunman who already shot another one of her employees."

"I…I was so afraid, Greg."

"I know," he whispered. "But courage isn't the absence of fear, especially rational fear. It's doing what you have to do in spite of the fear." He patted her arm. "Now come on, Marina. What did you see in our mystery woman's eyes that was so different?"

Marina jerked back a hair. Then, impossibly, she smiled up at him, hope so unmistakable that he had to avert his gaze again. He flinched internally as the brilliant smile fell away and Marina curled back. Away from him. "I don't know," she admitted. "Maybe…testing? Evaluating my responses?"

Interesting. Parker examined his notes, frowning. Although he suspected the blonde Emilia was using some sort of alias, he had no way to know for sure. However… The brunette was almost certainly Morgana le Fay. Again. "Our mystery brunette was running the show?"

"No." Startled, he glanced up. Marina met his gaze without flinching. "Emilia did all the talking, Greg."

That was…disconcerting. Morgana was a powerful opponent, yes, but largely predictable at this point. He didn't know anything about 'Emilia' beyond her name, general physical description, and Marina's assertion that she'd been the witch who'd stabbed Lance and brewed the love potion he himself had been dosed with. Her grudge against his family and team was clear, but why? What had any of them ever done to her? And how could a group of techies, Squibs, and underage magicals hope to challenge two powerful, experienced sorceresses?

In the back of his mind, Greg wondered how he knew the blonde was a sorceress instead of a witch.


Sam stuck by Jules, though he couldn't offer much as she coordinated with Kira to get Marina Levin's family under police protection. It would have to be discreet; the whole team doubted their subjects would be pleased to discover that Marina had warned them about the threat.

Next to them, Lou had set up Spike's laptop and he was searching through DMV records for 'Emilia' or any other variations she might've used. Since they were dealing with a witch, the odds that she had a license were low, but every avenue had to be checked.

Behind them, Ed and Wordy were hunched over Sarge's black binder – Lou had brought it from the Command Truck when he'd gone for the laptop. Sergeant and team leader were conferring in low tones, compiling their initial profile and best guesstimate of what the subjects were likely to do next. Of course, that depended on who was in charge – Morgana or Emilia. After how many times they'd managed to thwart Morgana's plans, she was liable to take a chunk or four out of Sarge's hide before killing him. Unless, of course, she decided on a third rendition of her Animagus collar and Portkey 'vacation' plan.

Emilia, though? Sadistic with a taste for dragging things out. Her dual attack on Lance would've left him bleeding out even as his magical core shut down – the Healers had never been able to decide which would've killed the teen first. About the only thing they could say was that it would've been pure torture. Same went for the love potion their lieutenant had been dosed with – yeah, he would've fixated on Marina, putting her above all other considerations so long as it lasted, but the potion had been so strong that by the time it ran out, nothing would've been left of Greg Parker's personality. He would've been an empty shell of a man, an outcome that would've devastated Marina and their whole family in one fell swoop.

Internally, Sam shuddered and he found himself hoping Morgana was their primary subject. Mercurial and cruel she might be, but at least she was straightforward with her methods. Predictable, after a fashion. They didn't know nearly enough about Emilia to even hope for an accurate profile.


Ed snapped up from the notebook as soon as he heard the tread of Greg's boots along with Marina's lighter steps. Wordy reared back a hair, eyes wide, and the Sergeant shifted sideways, deliberately touching shoulders with his best friend. A breath later, Wordy settled, a heavy exhale the only sign of just how close his equine instincts were to the surface. In the back of his mind, the sniper wondered if that was another symptom of the 'team sense' being down; maybe Greg's magic helped the rest of them control their animal sides? Rather ironic if he was right.

In the meantime, he cleared his throat, bringing the rest of their team in, though Lou stayed by Spike's laptop, keeping an eye on the DMV search he had going.

As soon as the ex-fiancés were close, Lane asked, "What do we got, Boss?" No need to give away the fact that they'd heard every single word of the conversation between the former lovers.

Greg consulted Jules' binder, buying time for Marina to fidget, swallow nervously, but ultimately calm down, trusting her ex-boyfriend's judgment. "Two primary subjects, both female. One blonde – Emilia – and the other brunette, name unknown. Possible third subject; Marina's thinks she's a brunette, too, but the lighting wasn't all that good at our subject location."

"What do they want?" Sam asked, even though they all knew.

Their lieutenant's gaze, already solemn, turned grim. "Me." He nodded towards the pictures Jules still had. "Primary subjects made a direct threat to Marina's mother if I'm not turned over by the end of today."

Kira spoke up before anyone else could. "Mrs. Levin's driver's license was revoked for medical reasons three years ago and her family has disability symbols on their license plates."

Ed whistled; they would've had to apply for that through their doctor's office and it would've taken time and a ton of persistence, particularly since DMV preferred to hand out temporary disability placards that could simply be hung on car rearview mirrors. To successfully get license plates stamped with the disability symbol meant a permanent disability with no chance of recovery.

"We've requested an additional patrol for the Levins' neighborhood," Jules reported. "They have orders to keep their eyes open for anything out of the ordinary, although we haven't officially confirmed any threats."

"Good work, Jules." But despite the praise, their Boss's jaw was still tight. Unhappy.

Ed stepped closer, resting a hand on his friend's shoulder. "Greg. This is a bad idea."

Humor lightened hazel. "You don't even know what it is."

"Yes, I do," Lane countered. "You wouldn't do this on a hot call, Boss. They don't even have a hostage." He didn't add that they only had Marina's word that there was a threat, though the words burned at the back of his throat.

The stocky officer sighed, closing his eyes an instant. "Assume Emilia is calling the shots. What's our profile?"

"Preliminary," Wordy confessed. "But based on our two known encounters, she likes dragging things out."

"Big fan of the surprise twist that no one likes," Lou grumbled.

"And excruciating deaths," Jules tacked on, frowning. "Sarge, if she's calling the shots, we have no way to predict what she'll do if she gets her hands on you."

"We don't know what Morgana will do either," Sam cut in. He smirked mirthlessly as his teammates turned, surprised. "Last time, she didn't hurt any of us. She saved Spike's life."

Ed stilled, hawk blue narrowing to razor slits even as Wordy half-shied back into him. Sam was right; Morgana and her pet dragon had saved Spike's life. Morgana had even cast magical restraints on the Welsh Green, restraints that hadn't faded until the injured dragon had been back in Wales for three weeks, much to the annoyance of the Welsh Reserve.

"A serious break in pattern," Parker agreed, bringing all attention back to himself. "We can't predict the subjects. Nor can we pretend that the unis will be anything more than an annoyance to them. The Auror Division won't spare the manpower to guard two techie families."

Lane's heart sank, but he turned towards his boss anyway. "Greg. We don't know that, not unless we ask."

The other man's shoulders slumped. "I do know that, Sergeant Lane. And I know this is a bad plan, but I have two counter-arguments."

"And those are?" Sam challenged.

"Priority of Life."

Dead silence rang, all of them trying not to choke.

"And?" Wordy rasped.

A faint smile flickered across their lieutenant's face. Gryphon hazel locked on hawk blue. "I know you'll be right behind me, Eddie."


They were expected. Greg eyed the woman behind the counter of the small resale shop, seeing what Marina had meant about how wrong the woman was. Although her features seemed rather plain to him, there was an aura around her. One that twanged off his magical senses, attempting to lure him in even as the predator in his soul snarled offense and shoved her influence away. And when he summoned up his gryphon vision, he saw her eyes change to a glowing serpentine green with a snake's slit pupils. Not human. Definitely not human.

Her expression turned amused when he kept himself between her and Marina on their way through the shop. As though his protective stance was unnecessary – perhaps because she'd already been leashed by another. Warned against tampering with the primary subjects' target.

He took the lead up the staircase, wishing for the reassuring hum of the 'team sense' in the background. Longing for the feel of his friends, beside him in spirit even if they had to hang back and wait for the trap to spring. Because even with the weight of his gun at his side, nestled in its tactical holster, and the snug fit of his Narnian armor, its protective magic in total sync with his own, he knew he was walking into a situation he couldn't handle. Heck, even if he'd brought sword and shield, there was no way he could tackle even one sorceress on his own, much less two.

The door at the top of the stairs swung open and Lieutenant Gregory Parker pulled in a slow, steadying breath before he lifted his chin and stepped across the threshold, triggering the trap.


Marina huddled close behind Greg, hiding behind his protective bulk as she peered over his shoulder at the two witches. Emilia smiled, the same smug, haughty, blood-thirsty smile she'd smiled at Lance – right before she'd stabbed him – and Marina's arms wrapped themselves around Greg's torso, clinging to him. She wouldn't let Emilia hurt Greg, not like she'd hurt Lance.

Emilia laughed. "Found your courage at last, little mouse?"

Greg stiffened, but he didn't try to break free from Marina's terrified hold. Instead, he turned his head, fixing a glare on the brunette standing just behind and to Emilia's side. "Coming after me again, Morgana? If I didn't know better, I'd wonder if you were a one-note villain."

The brunette's mouth twitched up in a smile. "Well, I must do something to pass the time until I locate my misbegotten half-brother and his men, Lieutenant."

Her Greg rocked back on his heels, surprised even though Marina knew his expression hadn't changed. She was surprised – banter from a witch?

Emilia's expression twisted, fury and rage. "Enough," she snarled, gesturing. Marina cried out as Greg was ripped away and slammed into a nearby wall. "I did not give you permission to speak to my sister, peasant."

Hazel narrowed – how could he be so calm? "This isn't Camelot. And even if it were, I wouldn't be a peasant."

"Oh?" Emilia purred, sashaying closer. "Do tell."

Greg smirked and lifted his chin, adopting the same haughty, aloof air. "I am a Scion of the House of Calvin, a House that dates to before the House of Pendragon's rise to power."

Emilia froze, deep brown widening, and the other woman – Morgana – arched a pointed brow. "So. You have finally accepted your magic, little knight."

Her beloved lifted one shoulder in a shrug, keeping his attention on Emilia. "Had a little help."

"It will not avail you, peasant," Emilia snarled; Greg yelped in pain as her fingers curled, hands flying up to his head. What was she doing to him?

"Sister!" Morgana's hand moved in a summoning motion, yanking Greg away from the wall – he landed on his knees and she snapped her fingers, outlining him in emerald light that held him immobile. "Even now, Parker's team is nipping at his heels; if we remain, we shall be overrun."

The blonde Emilia snarled again, but nodded acceptance of the argument. She turned, gesturing at Marina; instinctively, she sought to flee, but red-gold wrapped around her, dragging her to the witch.

She heard a babble of foreign words, felt a strange, unearthly wind whip around her, and then the second floor of the shabby clothing shop was gone.


Author Note: These past two weeks have been wild. Last Tuesday (August 15th), word officially came down that I am being released from my current project. In the Lord's Wisdom, the Client Manager was ultimately forced to release a member of the onshore team because he no longer has the budget for three onshore developers. This means my company did not have to foster any resentment with the Client Manager by forcing him to release me. Since it's due to the budget, there is no unhappiness towards me and no ruffled feathers, either. The senior onshore developer, who is also from my company, convinced the Client Manager to release me instead of releasing our third onshore developer, who is the 'newest' hire. I am very grateful for this, since I suspect many of my tasks will fall to his shoulders.

Within hours of this news, a manager from my company reached out with an opportunity right in Bank 1. This would allow me to remain in Bank 1 without needing to switch Client Companies and go through another background check. He arranged an interview for Wednesday and even arranged for me to speak with another company developer who recently passed the interview with this new Client Manager. I took notes on what my fellow developer could tell me and studied up on all the areas I was not confident in. Between my prior experience, those notes, and the Lord's Provision, I passed the interview.

Since then, I have been scurrying through all the administrative red tape that surrounds transferring from one team to another team within Bank 1. Technically, I will be 'offboarded' from Bank 1 and then re-onboarded to Bank 1. I do not pretend to understand this process - I am just doing my best to power through it. Along with all the required training for Bank 1 which I initially took last year and now have to re-take again. Had to groan at that, since it consisted of a couple of very dull hours of going through videos and assessments. But, thank the Lord, I prevailed and all is in good order for my 're-onboarding'.

I will finish out the end of August with my current team and will start with the new team on the 1st of September. Fortunately, the new Client Manager is fine with my pre-planned, pre-approved vacation, so I won't have to disappoint my parents on that front. The Lord is very good and I have high hopes that I will be able to be a developer on this new team, rather than an administrative assistant. As I understand it, this new Client Manager has multiple Pega applications under her auspice and at least one of them is so large, that it has multiple development teams working on it.

Hallelujah, Praise the Lord, and pass the apple pie. XD

Thank you for all of your prayers and I hope you enjoyed today's chapter.