Was (Was #1)

2x15: Broken spirits in a concrete field

Episode 2x15: Broken spirits in a concrete field

London, December 14th, 2009

Letting the door close on her slim silhouette, Lou stumbled out of the flat, and grabbed the railing in front of her, inhaling deeply. She didnât even register the pain the icy air sent through her lungs; there was too much on her mind, too many thoughts, too many feelings conflicting in her heart. Disgust was only the least of it.

She rubbed at her wrist, as if that gesture could remove the taint left by that manâs fingers. Tainted. There was no other appropriate word. All it had taken was a mere glance, a mere smile from him, the touch of his hand on her skin, and a terrifying, swooping wave of fear and revulsion had washed away her anger. Right now, she could still imagine his lingering heat poisoning her, crawling in her flesh like hundreds of small, voracious maggots. How dared he? How dared he talk about her the way he would of an object? How dared he so casually talk of killing her, just to elicit an answer from another man?

And this had lasted for ten seconds only. How long had it been for Lyle? For how many agonising minutes had the bastardâshe didnât want to think about his nameâtalked to him, grilled him like this, maybe laid his fingers on his arm as well?

The young woman closed her eyes on burning tears, wiping them with her palm, the one Van Cartier hadnât touched. Lyle. Lyle was so kind. So helpful. He couldnât be the wicked creature Ring had described at first. He just couldnât.

Way too kind. And kind people couldnât face the likes of a crazy, twisted willworker.

Louisa Keynes bit her lip to the blood, her brow so furrowed that it started to hurt. She couldnât go looking for Lyle if she was unable to control her own behaviour. She had to calm down first, make sure she wouldnât burst into sobs as soon as she would open her mouth. Only now did she realise she was wearing her own black coat on top of her T-shirt. She couldnât remember when she had seized itâhad she? Blinking a few more tears away, she focused on that thought. The blond guy. Echoes. Now she remembered. At some point, he had grabbed her by the arm, thrown the coat over her shoulders, whispered a few nervous words to her ear, and pushed her out of the flat before closing the door. That was it. All the while, the two other mages had been arguing, but she hadnât even been paying attention, engulfed as she was in her own thoughts, in the worry gnawing at her.

'Donât stay here. Goâgo and see your pal. Hurry. Iâm sure you can do something for him, but hurry.'

One thing was for sure: if someone had to talk to Lyle in that moment, it couldnât be Ring, and Van Cartier even less.

At last, when she managed to steady herself and felt ready to have a proper conversation again, she buttoned up her coat, then looked around her, in search of the door leading to the roof. She didnât need much time to find the stairwell they had used to come here the night before; it was a good and logical start, after all.

She hurried on the long balcony, flew more than she climbed the two flights of stairs that would no doubt bring her where she intended to go. Van Cartier's last words still rang in her ears, prompting a new surge of loathing. The way he had talked about Lyle, all the nasty things he had implied, about what he had done to him... Lyle was weird and aloof and not completely right in his head, sure, but he didnât deserve to be treated like shit. He didnât deserve to be left alone on a roof, with that depraved maniac waiting for him. He didnât deserve to be told he was dead, or not human at all.

Watchers my ass. They have no right to treat Lyle like that! No right! Especially not him!

She found it, that second, heavy metal door leading to the top of the building, pushed it with all she had; it wasnât locked, and she almost fell as it gave way. Immediately, her eyes scanned the large open space, searching for that silent, lonely silhouette part of her wished, and part of her dreaded, to see.