Bereft: Foretold

27 | A Bloody Enclave

The night's hold over the city finally broke when the morning's first light crept over Itheria's horizon.

I stayed outside the motel room, my breath escaping in white clouds as I drummed my fingers along the railing and waited. It was bitterly cold and ice crept from the eaves in translucent strands, the condensation pouring from my mouth thick with the dying winter's frost. 

The door clattered open as the huntress stumbled from inside, bleary-eyed and clothed in a thick jacket, a gun holstered under the puffy folds. She had a silver cross hung about her neck.

"Dang, it's cold," she complained, pausing when she saw my bare arms. "Ain't you freezing? Need a coat?" 

"No." I extended my hand for the car keys and, after a moment of confusion, Connie set them in my palm. "Is the witch awake yet?"

"Yeah, she actually already left." 

My eyes widened. I'd been outside for a few hours and hadn't seen Saule leave. She was wilier than she seemed.

The huntress and I departed, my shoes breaking the fragile layer of ice that had formed over the outer steps as I walked downstairs. "So, I did some thinking last night," Connie said as I unlocked the Jeep and we slid into the seats. "After you went on about plans and ideas and finding a way into this mage tower. I haven't had to deal with mages much, as I usually deal with the covens, not the syndicates--but Tiber has a bit knowledge about them, so I gave him a call."

My silence spoke volumes as the Jeep's engine revved to life.

"I didn't give him any...real specifics about what we're up to." She shrugged, crossing one leg over the other and sitting so the gun was within easy reach. "But I asked him for some tips and whatnot, for information we could make use of." 

In the lot's easement, I flicked on the blinker and went to turn right onto the desolate street--when Connie's hand shot out to touch my arm. I lowered my hands from the wheel and stared at the offending limb, contemplating slapping it from my person. 

"We're gonna want to go left," she said with a smile, hand lingering on my wrist. I hated to be touched, had always hated to be touched. It was something I'd never enjoy, not once through the unending eons of my life--until a certain blue-eyed mortal laid her hands upon me, and I realized my distaste came from an expectation of cruelty or treachery. It was a reaction of self-preservation, but with Sara I'd found that I...didn't mind it.

Sometimes, I'd caught myself wondering if she looked upon me as a woman looks upon a man.

I shook myself, snatching my arm away from the huntress. Worthless thoughts. "And? What trinkets of wisdom did your mentor impart? Why are we turning left?"

Connie settled her hand on the middle console. "Well, he reminded about the Cult of the River."

The Cult of the River, the ferrymen, the elite hounds of the syndicates and Blue Fire's favorite toy to send out after rumors of Sins. A chapter of the ferrymen could be found in most major cities and a few townships known for their supernatural populations. Amoroth's constant finagling with the syndicates had kept a chapter from forming in Verweald, though the neighboring chapters had been known to "pass through" the city on occasion. Lust usually sent home their bodies. Usually. 

Itheria's chapter of the Cult wasn't anything to toy with. 

"What about it?" I asked, not liking where this conversation was headed. 

"The Cult goes out and searches for criminals and vampire dens, which means we hunters run across them from time to time, and even work with them. Now, last night I started thinkin' about how you want to bust out a black mage, and I told myself, 'We ain't got the knowhow to go traipsing through them mage halls without getting ourselves in a mess of trouble.' Then, it hit me: we're gonna need a mage to outwit the mages."