Victor
Ocean's task didn't feel like a difficult one. Although, if something was actually after the young woman...
I pushed the thoughts of going back out to look for him aside, again.
For one thing, if whatever beasty he happened to cross paths with out there, kicked his ass, what exactly did I expect to do? I mean, I could take him. But given the right stars, he could take me. So, anything overpowering Ocean would soon find its way to me all on its own.
The second reason, if one is called for, is I worry. I always worry. Which is a waste of energy. My father taught me that to be concerned was expected, even mandated at times, but to be so wrapped up in the worries, to the point of paralysis, squandered so much energy — it was possible that when you were called for, you would be too exhausted to respond.
I was working on that.
My last reason, at least with Ocean, was trust. I didn't believe that Ocean was an idiot. He would run away before dying. He would strive to bring me the news, rather than stand and fight against an equal or stronger enemy.
I stood up from the sofa, and walked to the expansive windows. Close up to my own reflection, I looked out across the French Quarter. There were no flames. Nothing was burning. Things tended to burn when Ocean became riled. He was a demon, after all.
The hunters were here in the city. And, as luck would have it, they heard the rumors I started about me moving in — that I wasn't in New Orleans just to visit.
Simply hunting them down wasn't the primary goal. It is always an option. Yes. However, questions needed to be answered. Like, how were they crossing?
That was a big question. By itself it might appear small, even insignificant. But it wasn't, 'by itself.'
Humans aren't supposed to be able to cross. Not on their own. Over the millenia, many have found ways — some better than others — and a few have lived to return after they managed the trip. But this group, these Hunters, managed to cross over, track down and engage my father, and then kill him. Afterward, they also managed to cross back again.
I don't believe we ever had a defensive plan against a raiding party with the goal of regicide. I didn't believe we had a defensive plan because it was difficult to believe that a raiding party of humans could survive crossing over into our realm. The energies are daunting.
To not only survive, but to come seeking battle... I mean, how far into fantasy did you want to go?
It would be like sitting down at my desk here, in this condo on the 30th floor and planning a defense against men on horseback coming off the elevators. Yes, it was nonsense.
And yet... my father was dead. And those who did this deed, escaped back across the barrier into this world.
And, those same humans were currently seeking me.
They did this without losing a single one of their team.
Shaking my head I corrected that thought, dismissing the assumption. It was possible that one or two died, and the hunters carried their dead back home.
No matter how you looked at the storyline, their attack was nothing short of miraculous. And while I enjoyed magic, I didn't believe it was part of the equation.
Rubbing my brow I forced my mind to clear from the weariness I suddenly felt. I needed a drink. The sun had lifted off the horizon in the east.
Out across the waters, southeast, several hundred miles away, a storm brewed. The shifting barometric pressure put aches in my wings. It would be the third major storm this season. Mid September and already three hurricanes. The first was measured as a CAT4.
This new hurricane wasn't yet formed, and had a week or more to travel. Above, nothing marred the blue expanse of lumen infinitum — the blue flames of Heaven.
Today was going to be hot and humid, like yesterday and a dozen days before.
There was a large presence here of Enedrals. They have been our ancestral allies since... since the time of the first crossings.
Having them close by had already proven to be valuable. They were instrumental in purchasing this condo. They supplied descriptions of the city, and hunter sightings — without the Enedral I would have already returned, beaten by the same challenges faced by the hunters on my side of the crossings.
Looking out across the cityscape, I growled, "Where the hell are you? It was one little girl."
Pressing my palms into my eyes, I leaned back and exhaled. Then slapped my cheeks and stepped back from the windows, letting my wings stretch out.
Crossing the living-room, I poured a gin at the bar into a highball with ice, and then went to the computer, and brought up an interactive map of the area.
The person I questioned last night said that the hunters arrived in the city last week, but have since moved on to a place called Bayou Blue, near Baton Rouge. The place sounded small, which would be beneficial.
The French Quarter wasn't physically challenging, but with my sense of smell, focus could be difficult during the heat of the day. Too many scents from too many similar or related sources, such as: thousands of people crossing the street using the same crosswalk — turned individual traces into a cloud of olfactory madness when I crossed the same street in the afternoon.
The only parallel I can think of is having a hundred people talking to you about the same subject at the same time, and each one of them commanding an equal portion of your attention. With all the similarities you can almost believe you understand the concept or the subject — but really you don't. You're just thrashing and gagging in the current of information.
The spicy ingredients broiled into sensuous dishes, piled into peppered heaps beside fruit-sweet concoctions — layers and layers of dishes created from hundreds of kitchens, to ease the munchies of those smoking aromatic herbs and wax.
Bodies, and substance. They twisted the gut. Their ribbons wrapped around thoughts. Every mannerism I observed felt impatient and hungry. As if the population of man had but a single motivation: consumption. Communication ascended into clouds of smoke and steam, then waifed across the sky — confusion incarnate.
Being able to escape for a time was a necessity. And the only reasonable venue for escape was, up.
Here on the thirtieth floor, the smoke and steam dissipated. The clouds became a fug — background noise. I could think here. I could concentrate. I could rest, and even sleep.
The pressure of the room changed — exhaled. Outside sounds came to my ears, before being cut off. The front door clicked closed. Ocean had returned.
Finally.
I looked at the time. Twenty minutes past seven.
"Is she safe?" I asked.
For a moment I thought he might not have heard me, but he stepped into the room from the foyer. "Yes, after a fashion."
"Yes?"
"Her grandmother passed away last night. I don't believe her passing had anything to do with the presence of the hunters. She had already moved on prior to their arrival."
"So they did arrive, and they found her?"
"Yes."
He then gave me a run down of what had happened, adding, "While I didn't wish to be questioned by the police, I did hang around to ensure she was settled and no more hunters were going to arrive. None did. The two that were taken away by the police said nothing of note. And they were more interested in finding me, than in talking to her."
Ocean sat on the long couch and leaned back into the cushions. Stretching out his long legs, he let his head fall back.
"So, they don't have a reason to return?" I asked.
"I didn't say that," he said. "She will be surrounded by family and clann for the next few days. They will take care of the elder, have their wake, and tie up loose ends. Then, perhaps, after the others have left, after she is alone in the house once more, perhaps there will be a need to worry. But even then, she has skills. She's not a helpless dolt. She took one of them out with no help from me, and I'm certain she could have handled the second with equal adroitness."
"And yet you felt the need to step in?" I said.
"Well," he said, then, lifting a hand in the air, "she waved."
"She waved?"
"You had to be there."
"Huh," I grunted.
"Did you find out anything worth the effort?" he asked.
"I believe so. Bayou Blue."
He lifted his head off the back of the couch and looked at me, "Yes?"
"It's a small town, near by, but closer to Baton Rouge than here. It's west. Apparently they are gathering in that area. Their goal is to find me, and finish what they started with my father."
His head slumped back again to stare at the ceiling, then he asked, "To what end? What do they hope to achieve? They have to know that ours, like their political system here, has contingencies for the untimely death of royals. Killing you doesn't hurt our people in any practical way, anymore than killing their president hurts their nation."
"Thanks," I said.
"You know what I mean."
Stepping away from the window, I shook my head as I sat down in the recliner across from him. "I don't know. I've listened to their rhetoric, I've made an effort to understand their politics, but I can't find anything which explains their actions. Though, it is obvious that there is an explanation to be had, since all of them appear to agree, and act as if their goals were worth their lives."
Several minutes passed, both of us traveling through our own ideas and theories. My thoughts were vague and difficult to set in order.
"Did you kill any of them?" Ocean asked after several minutes.
"No," I said.
"Perhaps you should."
This wasn't anger or spite coming from him. Ocean didn't say things of this nature without solid reasons to support his suggestion. He knew how I felt. So, I didn't reply, but took in what he suggested, and used it to shape the vague thoughts floating around my skull.
They did act as if their goals were worth their lives. They even said as much when I questioned them. You'll get nothing from me monster, I'll die first. Turned out not to be true... but they did say it.
I didn't believe in killing. My mother was killed. It's not known who she was killed by. Hunters, perhaps, but uncertain. My only love, Gelda, was killed by Hunters. Now my father was murdered as well.
Killing meant that the conversation was over. I saw very little benefit in killing anyone. There were outliner situations, but I've had enough of death. I simply wasn't willing to believe that killing was a necessary act whenever people interacted, or negotiated with each other.
Ocean, however, did not agree with what he called my pacifist views.
As I mentioned before, he was a demon. More accurately he was half demon. As such, he was influenced by powers I was not. Also, by most definitions, he was immortal, which probably gave him a different view of death.
My beliefs didn't require him to act the same way. They were my beliefs.
Why did these Hunters go to such lengths and danger to kill my father?