And then the light disappeared.
The shroud of misery immediately lifted, letting the four breathe again.
In front of them, Staccato was looking at the treble clef. They couldn't see his face, but his body language was in complete disarray, compared to before, showing clear signs of disbelief and frustration. The hand that held the golden jewel trembled mightily, his fingers so tense around it that, if it had been any other non-magic material, he would have probably crumpled it like a paper sheet with the sheer power of his anger.
«So... that's embarrassing!» joked Chico.
«You shut your mouth.» Staccato hissed, completely off. He jerked his hood to stare in Banshee's direction.
She took a step back, gun pointed.
«Hey, I don't know what ye're going through man, but ye have to calm down.» she tried to say. «Ye're a good person, pack up and go.»
«Oh no, my precious little heart.» he said, mockingly. «We've only just begun.»
He turned back into the liquid and slithered away, leaving behind a lot of anguish and the godawful smell. Vopros took up the air freshener and started to get rid of the smell in the good old way.
«Banshee, que puta mierda? "Ye're a good person"? Are you drunk?» Chico asked her with his eyes wide open.
She took a deep breath and passed a hand on her face.
«My magic was kindled by a near-death experience.» she said. Vopros stopped mid-movement. Garaham didn't make a sound. «Ok, let's call it with its name, a death experience. I was dead. For several minutes, I was dead.»
«Is this a long origin story you never told us because Mages never spill?» Chico put a full whiskey glass in her hand.
«Fuck aye.» she nodded «I'm cutting the sentimental shit though, it's ok?»
she didn't wait for an answer «I have a twin. His name's Killian. We've close twins, even if not the kind of twins ye see, all sticky and stuff. But sure, we loved doing things together, and one of those things was to join... let's call it a group of independentist national fighters, in Ireland.»
«You mean the I...» Vopros started. She glared at him. He closed his mouth.
«It's all good and nice when ye're young and stupid. We really thought we were making a difference, beating up people. In some occasions... more than beating them up.» her eyes lost their light for a second, but she chose to go on «Until one day we discovered our chief lied to us. He wanted us to blow up a residential street. Me brother went straight to the police, while me husband and me...»
«...and I.» Garaham snarled.
«Jeez, Queenie!» Banshee snapped.
«You're married?» Chico chimed in.
Banshee's face darkened, and the Mexican rapidly understood he had been making the worst question.
«I was. I got married at 18. With my lieutenant, of the... independentist cell.» she sighed. «As I was saying, Killian went to the police to warn them of the terrorist attack, to give us the time to pack up and leave. We made the mistake of splitting up. My husband, Ossian, wanted to say goodbye to his family. My cell's chief, Andrew, killed him first, then came after me. He shot me in the back. Inches from the heart.»
She stopped, in a room filled with silence. Now, everyone was simply looking at her, Garaham too. She drank half a glass in a sip and started again.
«That moment, I fell in a coma. I'm told that Logan Harrower, a mage, was alerted of my kindling, and sent to rescue me. He teleported me here, in Boston, where he knew of this wondrous young surgeon. Apparently, Egon Brunswick saved my life when everybody else was seconds from declaring me dead. I died, on the operating table. He brought me back. That little blonde man with violet eyes. Didn't have the scar, at the time.» she cut through, right to the moment everyone was interested in, looking at her glass as if the smell of alcohol could bring her back, to the white halls and corridors of the Boston Memorial.
«Why didn't you tell anything when you saw him on Eva's roof?» Chico asked, breaking the awkward silence.
«It was a party filled with rich people and way more than just one doctor. It was eerie seeing him, but who cared? We didn't know anything at the time, and I surely didn't feel like sharing. Not at the time, not now.»
«You regret past?» Vopros asked, out of the blue. Banshee looked at him, tiredly.
«Yes.» she said, without even thinking.
«That's good. That's what past is for.» the Russian raised to his feet. «I no think doctor is going to be a problem anymore. He thought he had great power. He doesn't. We're ok. I'm going to cellar.» he announced, disappearing out of the door.
«Well, lo siento Banshee, it's a bad story. I guess no one has it really good when it comes to magic kindling, huh?» Chico tried to be supportive. Banshee smiled, crookedly.
«Suppose so.» she nodded. «I just can't believe that the man who save my life could just be this nasty little odd killer. I mean, he always came to speak with me after the surgery, and not many surgeons do. They usually monitor you but fuck off stage left the instant they know they're out of a malpractice suit. Stac... Egon came. Every other day. He asked me questions, made me talk.» she blinked, just now realizing something. «That's why... that's why he knew all that stuff about me. I told him when he came to visit me.»
She hadn't even seen Garaham reach the side of the couch, but she felt his hand sliding on her shoulder.
Chico stood up, slowly but like on cue.
«Oh, well. It might be best if I went out and checked that he's not stalking the place, isn't it? Just to be sure. I want to dormir buen sueño tonight.» he announced, marching towards the door.
He stopped, once opened it, just one second, to exchange a look with Banshee. Just a tiny, knowing grin, as he closed the door, leaving them well alone, in a silence that endured until Garaham broke it.
«How are you feeling?»
«Like shite, thanks. These memories did not want to be awakened. But, alas, it was too much not to share. I mean, ye already knew, and we'll have to be closer to each other when they ship us off to a new Enforcer anyway, so, I'll start. Vopros can't, and Chico won't, I'll be the bigger woman.» she shrugged, standing up.
Garaham had felt that moment coming since the evening started.
«Let's not tackle this right now.»
«No. Let's.» she crossed her arms on her chest, and crossed his gaze, with an unexpected surge of courage and decision. «So, ye're not leaving for what happened?»
«You really think I could be so unprofessional and childish? Of course not. My career decisions are entirely independent of any... personal matter.» said Garaham, suddenly on the defensive.
«I could believe it if ye didn't pull out the "if ye felt something fer me ye should have transferred" and then just went and did all the same.» she replied, giving no quarter. «I didn't want to cause a scene at the concert, but it did sound fishy from the start. Not to mention the "us will never speak of it again", too. Very mature.»
«That's the definition of "mature". We're not teenagers, who have to talk and go over everything with a fine-tooth comb, overthinking stuff. We both know what happened, and what it meant. There's no further need to talk about it.»
«Man!» snorted Chico, leaning right against the door «I hate when they refer back to episodes I haven't seen!»
«Ah, we know?» she thundered, leaning slightly forward. «Then I must be a teenager because I don't know shite!»
«That's a sensation you should be completely familiar with, shouldn't you?» growled Garaham, turning towards her.
«Oh me God, yer not bringing up River, are ye?»
«I wasn't going to, but apparently you find it the best of examples, so who am I to disagree?»
«Me already 'xplained meself!» she shouted.
«I know! And I explained to you that you have nothing to do with my career change plans!» he shouted right back.
«What did then?»
«My family did!» he roared. For a second, Banshee remained silent.
But Garaham wasn't calmed down, at all, on the contrary. His face was getting redder by the second, as he felt something bursting right inside him, and finding his way out.
«Because I spend too much time in my office, solving your problems or helping colleagues Enforcers who lose themselves in the layers of bureaucracy that the Order requires for Covens, which is, incidentally, the hardest and most persnickety part of the Order's bureaucracy! It's long and complicated, but I'm good at it! I am bloody good at it!»
«So why change? In the name of all that's good, why can't ye simply change yer timetable a bit but keep yer job if ye like it?»
«Because Francesca wanted a Monday-Friday, nine-to-five, high-rank managerial job for her husband! Because she wanted the perfect American family, with Sundays at the lake and holidays at the seaside, without emergencies, without unexpected overtime, without any kind of imperfection!» he exploded. The windows trembled.
«Oh me God! Ye let the Italian blonde walk all over ye? Yer so British!»
«Don't use British as an insult, you perfect byproduct of an Irish education!»
«Is that even an insult?» Banshee's nerves were getting so worked up that small raw magic power discharges had started to shoot out of her, breaking glasses and other small objects around them.
«The fact that you don't know that only confirms the perfection of my statement!» on the other hand, Garaham still had enough control to use small sorceries to repair the objects she broke. In an endless cycle of screams and shattering sounds.
«Great words from the man who's letting his wife make his life decisions! British are truly nothing without a Queen, huh?»
«I wanted some peace too! I wanted a normal life, go to work, work well, come home to a warm house and just... be... in peace!»
«So, why are ye still here? Go and enjoy yer new job and yer new perfect family life!» she yelled so loud that the glass Chico was using to better eavesdrop cracked.
«Because I don't want to work in Logistic, amidst the politics and the backstabbing of a managerial office! I want to work in Covens, where at least the backstabbing involves field tactics! Plain, simple, straightforward!»
«Then why are you leaving?»
«I am not! I went and retired my request before coming here tonight, you blasted moron!» he screamed, his eyes glowing with a strange, inner burst of fire.
This time she was taken aback. She froze and looked at him. They were both panting for the amount of magic that had been used, voluntarily and involuntarily, and the amount of screaming around.
«I tore up my transfer because you are a spineless, messy bunch of uneducated, inaccurate, mischievous brain-dead idiots... but you're my spineless, messy bunch of uneducated, inaccurate, mischievous brain-dead idiots!» he talked again, lowering his voice. «And you...» Then he made another pause and looked at her. «You're a loud, graceless, violent, aggressive, stubborn, woman and some days, ugh, you drive me utterly and bloody crazy!» he shouted. Or maybe it sounded like a shout, for the words that followed were spoken with a much softer, pained tone. «... but the days you drive me crazy are the only days worth living for.»