Space Angels: find the Gift (complete)

ЄD0Ɲ: Ŧhe CiŦy ~ Chapter Fifty-five

55 – the flea

Cylvah could learn nothing about the House of Ten standing in a crowd outside its perimeter gates. Jango and Fereshte were now in space on an important errand, according to her Lǽran, Sofiel was working on a complex code that could solve the whole point of this mission, while she had to stand outside the gates leading to the House of Ten, hoping something might happen. She needed to recon inside the building to confirm it was a Gift shrine or contained any of Stygien's forces. Sunshine, who'd been monitoring the Seraphim cloud feeds, revealed Kaleb and his commander were currently on a silver flying chariot, making their way to the venue to meet one of Stygien's Minions – the middle rank of the dark lord's hierarchy. There would be an Imp, a Minion and a commander in the House of Ten at the same time, and this proved its importance. Even better, if she could eavesdrop on their conversation the cadre might discover what Stygien's plan really was. It was risky and she was sure Jango would advise against it, but if she chose a Quintessence no one could detect...

She crossed Deacon's line of sight, limping away from the throng towards the long line of white vehicles. Mostly unoccupied, she made a point of approaching the one with a black guardian sitting at the front of the vehicle. She pulled a tiny feather from the pocket of her yellow dress. It looked thin and delicate but it was tensile and impossibly strong. She watched Deacon's face through Scintilla Two as she acted furtively, looking left and right knowing he watched her. She slipped the feather into the lock on the chariot's rear doors, releasing its locking mechanism with a click masked easily by the clamour of the nearby crowd.

Scintilla One picked up Deacon's voice when he spoke into a black communication device.

["There's a young female messing about behind chariot RM101. Go and sort her out and bollock the driver for me."]

"Your plan is working, Cylvah," Sunshine said, "they are sending reinforcements to investigate."

Scintilla three zoomed into the face of black-suited guardian, whose nametag read 'Thomas', at the edge of the crowd. ["Yes, sir,"] he replied and began skirting the throng, ignoring the crowd's catcalls, concentrating on Cylvah's Quintessence, unaware Scintilla three was reading his very thoughts.

He noticed she wore thick glasses and stooped strangely and suspected she had some sort of disability, but when she opened the chariot's rear door, he gasped.

He hurried across towards the front of the vehicle. Weaver was sitting there ogling the breasts of a female in a picture printed on poor quality pages. Thomas leaned into the open window.

"The biggest tit here is you, Weaver – someone's got into the back of the wagon! The commander's watching... he'll probably tear you a new one later!" Hearing Weaver curse and throw his red-topped publication down, he chuckled to himself and made his way to the rear of the vehicle.

Weaver joined him, saying, "I'm sure I locked it," and withdrew a long black club from his belt buckle.

"Probably won't need that, it's only a girl," Thomas said.

"She still might be carrying."

Thomas nodded before turning the door handle and the door opened, and, sticks drawn, they peered within. No one was inside.

"There's not even a flea in here, Thomas," Weaver said after the pair had checked the chariot's interior. "Are you winding me up?"

"I saw her gain entry, Weaver, and so did Deacon. Check if anything's missing."

Weaver and Thomas found nothing had been taken from the chariot and no trace of the intruder could be found. Thomas resumed his duties on the gate, ushering an elderly female through, not noticing a flea spring from his sleeve and onto the woman's woolly jacket.

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