Forneus stared at Phenex for a long moment, contemplating him over the top of steepled fingers. He had just materialized his latest frock coat into existence—identical to the previous one, only sturdier—when a knock had come at the door, announcing the other's arrival. From there, he had settled into his favourite armchair, clothed in nothing more than his trousers and dress shirt, and listened to his friend launch into a full account of all that he'd learned from his visit with Apollo.
The part about Gwen's soul—long before Gwen had in fact been Gwen—didn't surprise him in the slightest. It was common knowledge to all of the operatives who had ever served as guardian over the ages, a tale he'd heard many times before—and one that made him smile whenever he thought of the little girl who had fallen asleep in his arms years ago.
Even now he could remember four-year-old Gwen confiding in him about her nightmare; the one about a large, grey serpent squeezing her in its coils. There had been something strange in the way she'd explained it, something that struck him as unusual for a small child. Whatever it was, he could no longer remember. Though hadn't there been something significant about the snake, itself?
"Hey. Are you still with me, Forneus?"
Forneus glanced up, bewildered when he saw that Phenex was still sitting in front of him, a slight frown tilting the corners of his mouth.
"My apologies," Forneus said, running a hand along his jaw. "I was just pondering your information. At least we know for certain that what occurred in Wiesbaden was no coincidence. I still wonder, though...what other gifts has Gwen received? We've collected three artifacts, yet we've only seen her ability to command low-level entities, and even that has been limited."
"We'll just have to wait and see." Phenex shrugged. "He may have played a pretty big hand in it, but even Apollo couldn't tell me exactly how her powers would manifest. From what I've been able to gather, it boils down to whatever choice she made over a thousand years ago. Or the choice her soul made, rather."
Forneus nodded and settled further back in his chair, the fingers of his right hand drumming idly against the armrest. "I suppose you're right. We'll just have to keep our eyes open, and hope for the best. In the meantime," he went on, unable to keep the exhaustion from his voice, "I'm more concerned about this rumour going around about Apophis. Last I recall, the archives have him listed as deceased, and if I'm not mistaken, Horus signed the document himself. So, he was either very premature in reaching that conclusion, or..." He trailed off, uncertain.
Gwen's dream about a giant snake. Apophis, the serpent-god...
No, it can't be.
Forneus jolted upright in his seat, his chair scraping across the polished feldspar tiles, emitting a loud squeak in the process.
"What's wrong?"
Forneus didn't have a chance to answer. A knock came at the door, and a vaguely familiar face peered into the room. Recognizing the midnight blue eyes, Forneus bid the figure enter.
"Kamish, isn't it? Please, take a seat." When the operative remained standing, he added carefully, "Or stand, if you prefer."
He exchanged a look with Phenex, the other shrugging his shoulders.
Kamish hastened to apologize, his short, silver hair reflecting the pulsating hues of lavender from the room's walls as he swept into a bow. "Begging your pardon, I hope I didn't offend," he said, anxiously glancing between them. "A summons has been sent out to all Regulations Force personnel. I was sent by Hermes of the Third Echelon to retrieve you personally."
"This sounds serious," Phenex remarked, getting to his feet. "Did Hermes happen to say what this is all about?"
"Yes sir. The fourth artifact," Kamish replied, voice cracking under the scrutiny of the other's molten gaze. "It's been located, b-but there's...there's a slight problem."
"How slight of a problem are we talking, here?" Phenex asked, tone clipped.
Kamish licked his lips, stammering, "I-It's surrounded by enemy f-forces."
Phenex swore loudly, fingers curling in his hair in exasperation. Forneus put his boots on with a snap of his fingers, and with a weary sigh, rose from his chair.
Why must everything always be so difficult?
Grabbing his coat, he turned to Kamish. "Very well, then. Inform the council we'll attend to them shortly." He made his way over to the door, casting a meaningful glance in Phenex's direction as he pulled it open. "There's something I wish to check up on, first."
Or perhaps I should say, 'someone'.
Fortunately, Phenex didn't require an explanation. Kamish, on the other hand, seemed baffled. Whether out of respect or because of his skittish nature, however, he said nothing more. With a quick bow, he bolted through the open door, the thud of his combat boots quickly receding down the corridor. His haste seemed to provide some modicum of amusement for Phenex, the other chuckling under his breath.
When Kamish was no longer in sight, Phenex turned to Forneus, shaking his head. "Where in the name of the gods do you suppose Mathis found that one? You'd never know he was a seasoned professional with all the flinching he does."
"I'm sure you didn't help matters," Forneus stated dryly. Then, "I need a favour."
"Name it."
It wasn't often that Phenex was quick to agree to Forneus's terms without first asking what they were, so when he did, he couldn't help but be grateful.
"Thank you." He clapped a hand on his shoulder, and began steering him out the door. "Come, I'll explain on our way there."
As they made their way past the glimmering walls and balconies, descending the quartz staircase and taking long, quick strides down the walkway that led to the Central Junction, fleeting images of the Egyptian serpent-god came to his mind, unbidden. Even centuries later, Forneus could still recall the dark, scaly grey flesh; the bright, vertically-slit yellow eyes, present even in his human form. The jagged scar running from the top of his head to beneath his chin; the power he emanated, capable of bringing gods and mortals alike to their knees...
Could Apophis truly be behind the events of the past eight years? Or was there someone else behind the scenes, plotting the downfall of the Spectrum and those residing within its ethereal borders?
Realizing that they were nearly to Gwen's quarters and that he hadn't explained a single thing along the way, he was surprised to see that Phenex wasn't looking at him in his usual impatient manner. In fact, he didn't seem to be looking at Forneus at all. Much like Forneus, Phenex's thoughts appeared to be elsewhere.
Forneus cleared his throat, drawing Phenex's attention. "I asked you to come with me because I need you to check on Gwen's condition. But, that's not the only reason." He hesitated, unsure how to proceed. Exhaling a shaky breath, he continued, "There's something I have to tell you. Something important, something that no one else knows about..."
"...And something I'm probably not going to like hearing, by the sound of it," Phenex concluded, sighing.
They stood just outside of Gwen's quarters now, a riot of colours reflecting off the marble door like ocean waves.
Forneus turned to face him. "No. I imagine you won't." He swallowed against the lump in his throat. "After I've told you, I'll accept whatever judgment you make."
A long pause followed, Phenex staring hard at the floor, his brow furrowed. Finally, he looked up, his gaze softening. "All right. Whatever it is, we'll deal with it when the time comes." He ran a hand through his hair, and sighed again. "So, what is it?"
Taking hold of the brass handle, Forneus opened the door as quietly as he could and entered the room, beckoning Phenex to follow.
They settled down on either side of Gwen, Forneus noting with no small amount of relief that though she was still unconscious, she looked a lot better than she had when last he checked. Giving her a cursory glance, Phenex summoned a long, golden feather into his hand in a puff of white smoke, and settled it across her forehead.
It was only once his hands were cupped over Gwen's face, golden light coming from beneath his fingers and washing over her, that Forneus finally spoke again. "It happened eleven years ago..."
*
Reeves dismissed his subordinates with a wave of his hand, watching the three Akuma vanish like smoke into the chilly night air. He stared at the spot where they'd been kneeling mere seconds ago, the only proof of their presence the three shallow indentations—all nearly identical—in the rooftop gravel. Kizah, of course, had left the more prominent mark of the three, leaving two massive, circular depressions where his left knee and right fist had rested.
Another mission, another failure. Reeves spun on his heel, dress shoes crunching loudly as he crossed the gravel pit leading to the very edge of the roof. He peered at the sprawling city below. Lights of red, orange, and white stared back at him. Evening traffic of the mortals who commuted to and from work, or so he supposed. He didn't care in the least for the stupid, weak-minded creatures, but he had been around long enough to notice some of their habits. Much to his chagrin.
More than twelve hours had passed since the mission in Trikala had gone up in flames, and yet, it had taken the Akuma until twenty minutes ago to report in. Not only had every one of the shadows he'd had accompany them been eradicated the moment the firebird had shown up, two-thirds of the rest of his force had been captured. Where the High Council planned on keeping them detained he didn't know, but it was reasonable to assume they had a temporary facility set up until their main prison was back up and running.
I guess I should be relieved that the mission failed, he thought bitterly, gripping the brim of his fedora when a strong gust threatened to rip it from his head.
It had been a fool's errand to send the crossbreed along on the mission. As it turned out, wyvern and manticore blood did not mix well, and according to Misa, the creature had nearly killed the human girl instead of retrieving her, as it had been commanded. If it had come from Misa alone, Reeves might have had cause to question it, but Kizah had confirmed it as well. Cife had been too bloodied to do more than tremble, but that wasn't unexpected; the pale-skinned Akuma always trembled.
Really though, what had Her Ladyship been thinking? Providing him with such an unstable beast, a mere prototype on a mission as important as this one? Worst of all, if it had succeeded in killing the girl, it wouldn't be Her Ladyship to blame, no; it would be Reeves that took the full brunt of the master's wrath. Her Ladyship's anger was bad enough—the serpent god's was far worse.
Nothing to do but report the prototype's failure, destroy the others, and hope that the next batch turns out better than this one. Reeves turned his gaze toward the silvery fullness of the moon, releasing a frustrated growl as he did.
Right back to square one.
He would just have to err on the side of caution from here on out. Even with the new moon no more than two weeks away, he knew he wouldn't be strong enough by then. Not for what Her Ladyship expected of him, nor for what he expected of himself. Another six weeks from now, however? Well, that would be a different story altogether.
In the meantime, he would just have to ensure that things were as inconvenient as possible for the firebird and his friends.
*