Sinister (COMPLETED / TO BE REWRITTEN)

13 👣 The Ride

Xiáo jíe: miss/young lady (in Mandarin/Chinese)

👣

The action isn't over. This loss won't be the end of her.

Yanking open a blue taxi's back-door, Ece shrinks herself, taking moments to gather her breath. The driver's brows raise a bit, and it reflects through the rearview mirror over his graying head.

"The city's northern outskirts. Half an hour."

"Half an hour?" How his incredulity triggers utter scorn from Ece. "But, xiáo jíe—"

"Half an hour, I said. No buts. Now get out of here." The screams from outside blast through the windows and an army uniformed mass are glancing around near the trunk.

They're looking for her.

The driver says nothing as he kicks the gas and thrusts the vehicle forward. The air conditioner does little to fan Ece's sweat. Her stomach groans at the heavy scent of a Chinese takeaway, but it isn't her priority now.

Her priority is her temporary hideout, where she also places her soul-hostages.

As the crowd distances from the taxi, she regains her composure. Her previous encounter with Hadassah loops in her head like a cycle.

"I don't have a name." Hadassah's expression remained stoic. There weren't any signs that she bore weapon. Neither did she attempt to arm herself. "I have nothing to tell."

Exhaustion and anger nudge Ece's drained patience, and she pinned Hadassah's neck onto the wall. "Who told you I'd be there?"

"Even if you cracked this into a half," Hadassah glanced to her strangled neck, "I won't tell you. CSI protects its informants." There was an unnatural force behind that sentence.

Ece could sense Hadassah's radiating impatience through her posture. Unmoving like a coral. She had to remain calm, or this older woman would take advantage and pounce at her like an untamed beast.

"You shouldn't even be here. What have you done to your guards, Ece?"

"You'll find out later if you're lucky. Second question, where is Raiden?"

"Raiden who?" Her expression gradually transpired into acknowledgment. "Oh, that Raiden. Palchuk's observed subject."

"Where is he? Where have you taken him? If I ever find you're protecting him from—"

Ece swallows hard as Hadassah's next sentence hits her like Thor's hammer.

"Someone took over him from CSI last night. He wasn't anywhere. He's gone. And for your information, CSI's inspectors are climbing through our emergency entrance."

Clutching her purse, which she has retrieved from Hadassah's rack without her consent, Ece tries to soothe her mind. It's thinking of all the impossible things that may occur.

What will Tayana think of her after all of this? Should she be grateful that her phone is barren of any notifications from Tayana?

Preventing her withdrawn sobs from affecting her, Ece fishes the wizard's journal, staring at its ashen skin with gloom. Her pointer proceeds to flip the page she visits most when it traces upon a strand of hair, sitting amidst the page she used to visit during the first hours of her ownership of the onyx.