ARC 7-Cursed Fates-145 (Geneva)
Rarely were Geneva’s tasks as amusing as a literal treasure hunt.
Once again, she lamented her lack of resources within the city. It was a bit of a blunder, though not one she faulted herself for too heavily. Her time was taken up catering to Lou, leaving her little for the cultivation of assets. She’d taken the few opportunities that presented themselves, but she didn’t have much cause to mingle amongst the hunters. She would have suggested as much to Lou, but she preferred it when her summoner chose to remain ignorant. Though that might change. If Lou’s new drive lasted, Geneva would have to use that fiery initiative to her own ends.
A consideration for another day. Tonight, she had to sniff out a secret society. She didn’t rank humanity high amongst the intellects throughout existence, but they also weren’t the lowest. The guilds certainly had some ability if they had managed to keep such a large, and valuable, secret for generations. Their arrogance had blinded them in the case of Lou, and who could blame them given the way her summoner had acted prior to her deadly tantrum, but with this, they were focused and diligent.
In most cases, unraveling such a conspiracy would take weeks of effort. Months if the guilds had decent protocols related to possible discovery, though she doubted as much. People tended to get sloppy after getting away with a misdeed once. Getting away with keeping their secret for centuries? With their long egos and short memories, she couldn’t imagine how lax they’d become in their discipline.
One of their hunters had lost a precious artifact, the only evidence of their stash, recklessly challenging a superior opponent. And for no other reason than to extract a blood price. After all, even if the null caster had managed to slay Kierra, his delusions about capturing her were just that, it wouldn’t have stopped Lou or brought back any of the hunters she killed. It wouldn’t have repaired the shattered city. No, the best it might have managed was soothing their injured pride. They’d lashed out.
Sloppy.
Geneva didn’t believe she could undermine generations of effort in one night, but her summoner expected results. At the very least, she needed to find a clue, something to report that showed she was making progress. That, she had confidence in.
Lacking information, she had to resort to less graceful tactics. In the wake of the fight, the city was playing dead, like prey hoping to avoid the eyes of the stalking predator. No one should be about, either afraid to be seen or busy taking care of their wounds. If someone were willing to brave possible death, they’d have very strong motivation.
When a home was threatened, most creatures immediately evacuated, their instincts prompting them to escape the danger. Humans could be both wise and greedy. Whether it was foresight driving them to prepare for the future or an unwillingness to part with their valuables, it wasn’t uncommon for humans to prioritize securing their wealth over preserving their lives. With the city having faced a great crisis, Geneva knew that the keepers of the guilds’ treasure would be anxious to secure it. Or, if not secure it, discuss its continued safety.
The succubus moved through the ruins, scanning the darkness for the anxious minds braving the dark night. The first one she found was a man, though just barely. At a glance, she didn’t take him for someone that would be entrusted with valuable secrets. However, the guilds had to be short on personnel. Aside from that, his motivation fit, a strong drive to search for something valuable.
It was a dead end. The young man’s quest ended in a shattered home near the tail end of the destruction. He dug through the shattered stone and broken wood in a frenzy. As he did, his desire became clear. He wasn’t looking for a stash of affinity stones. He was searching for a memento of his mother, who’d refused to evacuate despite the Hall’s warning. She left him to his grief.
The second target she found was a woman, but Geneva moved on from her quickly. Her desire to search for something valuable was strong, incredibly so, but once the succubus was close, she found that the desire was empty, unfocused. The woman’s mind was a mess of shock and a deep sense of loss. Not someone acting with purpose.
It wasn’t until she found her fifth anxious mind that she made progress. The night was deep then, a time when all but the most determined would have given in to sleep. The middle-aged man she found was one of a handful of people still moving within the city and the only one whose thoughts weren’t focused on the criminal. He moved with purpose and intention, sticking to the deepest shadows and avoiding the places where the moon’s light shone brightest.
It made no difference to the succubus. The man was cautious enough to occasionally check for followers, but his vision was hampered by the lack of light and Geneva was far more practiced at going unseen. When the time came that there was no adequate cover for her to hide behind, she simply moved a street over and tracked his mind. It never ceased to amaze her how careless some creatures could be with their thoughts.
By the time he reached his destination, he no longer bothered with his paltry efforts at stealth. Geneva couldn’t recognize the rubble for what it once was but his thoughts revealed it used to be a store. An unremarkable secondhand store that took in unwanted goods and turned them into functional goods. It was a staple of the city that had served many neighborhoods. It brought together all kinds, from those of means looking to give back to the less privileged doing what little they could for their neighborhoods. It wasn’t uncommon to see hunters bringing in large or small boxes. The store was also open at odd hours, as they had a night shift to help with the large amount of work.
An adequate front. For what, Geneva was unsure. The man’s thoughts weren’t focused on specifics. The store was a storehouse. One that contained something incredibly valuable from the man’s frantic energy as he swept aside the rubble with powerful gusts of wind.
The succubus made herself comfortable atop a chunk of rubble as she watched him work and divined what she could from his increasingly frustrated thoughts. The longer it took to clear the rubble, the more focused his thoughts became. She smiled as she caught the term Authority tied to his desperation. Even if her night revealed nothing else, it was a good enough find. With a name, she could search records and memories more effectively.
But the revelations didn’t end there. The man eventually cleared away all the debris, revealing a trapped door. He experienced a brief moment of elation when he found it, but his good mood quickly collapsed when he tried to open it.
Then an intense, if uncreative, stream of swears flowed from his mouth. She couldn’t see but his thoughts gave her a clear picture of the situation. The entrance had collapsed and was completely blocked. Just from what she was seeing secondhand, it would take a lot more than brute force to clear it and the effort could all be for nothing. Whatever valuable thing the man was so desperate to reach could have been crushed. A possibility that left him seething in anger…and anxiety. He was nothing more than a lackey on an errand. He didn’t look forward to bringing back bad news.
Geneva decided to shadow him for two reasons. An address didn’t come to mind when he thought of where he was going, meaning she would have to see the location if she wanted to track him down the next day. Secondly, in his mind, associated with the idea of going home was comradery. Someone was waiting for him. Geneva was very interested in finding out who.
The man moved twice as fast with his task complete. He gave no care for going unnoticed as he jogged through the streets…and out of the city. She wasn’t surprised to see that he headed for the camp set up by the Hall. It was the best choice for several reasons. Chief among them, Lou had shown a reluctance to drag the school into their conflict. It was one place they could be reasonably sure the noblewoman wouldn’t attack, making it the ideal place to regroup.
She was a bit surprised that the Hall would allow their presence. They wanted to be involved even less than Lou wanted to involve them. Sheltering combatants was not a good way to stay neutral. She wondered what Lou would think when she reported it.
As she shadowed the man through the shabby shelters and tents, the patrol that had asked him pointed questions before letting him in, no more aware of her than her prey, she noted the effects of her work. It was a borrowed spell, but she had confidence in it. Namely, if it didn’t work as intended, she would have pointed words with the being with the audacity not to hold up their end of a bargain with her. There were circumstances that prevented outright conflict on Burning Earth but if she didn’t have her ways of getting even, she wouldn’t have become a don.
The thoughts of vengeance seemed unnecessary as the bug appeared to be working as promised. Most of the people in the camp were already recovering with no lingering side effects. In another day, there would be nothing left of—
Geneva came up short, her nose picking up something unexpected. Briefly giving up her prey, she moved through the camp until she found the shelter the smell was coming from. Or, more specifically, the body it was coming from. One covered in lesions and swaddled in thin blankets.
She warned Lou that there was a chance her spell could have effects beyond her expectations, but the chances were astronomically small. About as small as a lurker killing her father. Geneva didn’t put much stock in luck, but experience had shown her that some souls attracted an uncommon number of good or bad events.
The succubus decided right then to regard her summoner as one of those rare unlucky souls. Then she went to find her prey. While the mutating disease was worrisome, it had nothing to do with the mission she was given. Besides that, she wanted to make sure she had plenty of good news when she returned to the estate.
Lou would not be happy and Geneva was sure she’d be taking the blame.