Witch Hunt

"Take a right!", yells Alabastra. The streets are quickly crowding with swarming Sable Guard, a flood of black armor shining in the sunlight like dripping molasses. We follow after, banking hard between the manors of Firvus Heights, hounded by the faithful of the fortunate. The aureate streets behind us fill with such a clatter I'd believe it was raining. "Bug! Got another 'vis in ya?"

Faylie, stumbling behind as fast as her hooves can carry, yells, "Just about?" The clop-clopping replaces with hard kicks into a well-maintained lawn, kicking up divots of grass as she goes. "Tegan I need you to carry me pretty please!"

"W-why?" The knight locomotes like a freight train in her armor.

"Because I'm gonna be too tired to run after this!" Tegan slows enough to match the faun's speed, and scoops her into her arms without even coming to a full stop. Cards fanned before her, Faylie shouts a familiar, "INVISIBLIS!"

The rest of the cohort vanish before me. I come to a stop, panicked I'm about to rush headlong into one of them. I look down at my lack of hands, and shake away the disorientation.

Ahead of me, further than she'd been before disappearing, Alabastra's voice shouts, "Meet at the falls, we're takin' the quick way down!"

What the hells is the quick way?!

Behind us, I hear heavy footfalls dig deep into the dirt, and two towering metal men march interspersed in that autocratic sea, Clockwatch carried by the wave, glowing blue eyes shining through the morning dew, ill-omened lighthouses under facsimile forms, movements no less mechanical than the flesh-and-bone men they trudge with.

In this moment, I decide that anywhere is better than here. I run toward the sheer cliff edge of Augustene Hill, following north along its path.

It's a long run, at least the next half hour of simply silently, sightlessly running through city streets, under wailing and commotion. The guard have given up their chase now that their quarries have taken to the ether, but they prowl over the Heights like bugs over discarded dinner.

Eventually, I reach the park atop the hill directly above the waterfalling beginnings of Bassarin River. It spills out below from a cavern in the sheer rock, tumbling down into the city channel from its outerplanar wellspring.

The park itself consists of a small open field, pathways winding up and down between a grove of trees. A larger-than-life statue sits on the edge of the cliff, meeting with a chest-high wall that keeps any undue accidents from occurring. The monument is of a colossal wolf, the Great Wolf Augustene, and her champion Bassarus beside her. Vestiges of the founding myth of the city, and the Republic of old, cleaned and spotless, unlike the moss-covered statues of same portrayal in the outer city.

As I approach the statue, I hazard a little ask, "Hello? I doubt I am the first one here..."

From the direction of the statue, Alabastra's voice says from the air, "Actually, you're the last."

"Of course..."

"Drop the spell, Firefly", orders the half-elf. Faylie does, and all of us are revealed in an instant. The rogue leans against the statue, flipping a knife over in her hand, pensive and lost in thought. The faun sits crisscrossed on the ground beside her, and Tegan leans over the wall, out at the city below, eyeing the skyscrapers rising to match and climb above the hilltop venue. The detective pats over his jacket, looking over whatever belongings he still has.

As we appear, Alabastra throws her mask off, tossing the sweaty black cloth to Faylie. "Hate those things. We gotta get a better dress code."

Faylie catches the mask, as well as my own, and pulls hers off, depositing all three in a bundle in her satchel. "Ooh... what about cloaks? We could be like those old thieves guilds..."

The rogue tilts her head. "Huh. I like where you're head's at."

The knight turns, pulling the Sable Guard helm off her face. "Can we worry about fashion after we're off this hill?"

"Maybe forest green..."

"Allie!"

Alabastra chuckles. "Fine, fine." She stretches, nonplussed despite the near-miss we just narrowly escaped from... and might still catch us yet. To Faylie, she says, "Know you tuckered yourself out, Bug, but got one more in you?"

Faylie produces her deck in one hand, held like a fan. "Maybe", she yawns. "As long as it's little."

"Just a drop spell."

Panic starts to rise in me at the prospect of what the quick way is. Surely they don't mean...

Alabastra hops up onto the stone wall, balanced on the edge. No, no. No. No no no. Absolutely not. I back away. "You are out of your mind if you think I'm following you off the edge of a cliff, Alabastra."

She frowns in that wretched, sideways, disapproving way. "Look, we all have to go at the same time or it doesn't work. You wanna walk back through the Black Gates and get pulled into an 'interview' by the Sables, knock yourself out. But this here's your one-way ticket to freedom."

My gaze moves past her, over the sprawling city beyond, stretching well into the distance in an unending concrete and metal forest, canopies of glass and trunks of steel, stems of magic rail dug through Marble City like the veins of its namesake. I've never gotten the view from here... as the sun rises over the streets, diagonal avenues create sliced sections of city. At the edge of the view, the distance becomes so great there's only the amalgamated blend of grays and whites and reds, and still the city crawls out into the distant horizon.

It is a stunning view, but I have no intention of making it my last. I'll have to trust that she wouldn't throw herself to her death just to fool me one last time... a sharp pain rips through my skull. Yet that does sound like something she would do. But she's correct that there's no other way off this hill, right? I fold over, hand on my knees, as my mind starts to spin in contradicting circles, trapped in a loop of logic, folded in on itself again and again.

"... Oscar?" Alabastra's voice is wrapped in counterfeit concern.

Behind me, Nathaniel Latchet says, "Ah, we ain't got fuckin' time for this." I feel a large calloused hand start to grab at my arm.

Panic spikes in an instant. "Don't fucking touch me!", I seethe, shooting out from his grip.

Everyone's starting at me. That... set me off more than I was expecting it to. I shake my head; I'm acting irrational.

Despite the headache, I have to concede that Alabastra is correct. I'm the one wasting time, here. I march away from the detective, kicking my feet over the wall and closing my eyes. "Just tell me when to jump", I say. The sunlight on my eyelids casts my mind's eye in brilliant orange. Beside me, I hear the rest do the same, preparing for the fall.

Alabastra says, "On your cue, Lightning Bug!"

Faylie says, "Okay, everyone, just... aim for the side of the waterfall! Don't wanna end up in the river! Jump when I cast!" A breeze picks up, the high winds of the hilltop carrying a scent of pine. "And... PLUMA!"

I push myself from the wall, the pounding in my head nothing compared to the wind buffeting my ears. But the sensation is slow, arrested, and as I dare to open one eye... The ground approaches not nearly so fast as I feared. The five of us are gently carried down, parachuted by the faun's magic. The approaching cityscape below tunnels my vision, and nausea turns my stomach. I elect to close my eyes once more. It's still a long ways down.

* * *

In a crowded little restaurant on the ground floor of a tower in the sky-risen city center, chaotic movement of waitresses and customers in flashes of color sweep through the eatery. Red leather seats and green tiled floors, with wood dividing walls that create four-corner sections of eating booths. Smells of sweet syrups and cooked bacon waft through the air of the coffee shop, and the interior beats away the chill of the autumn morning with cozy kind warmth.

I pull my jacket closer around me. I never did like eating in public... even less so with these fangs. I'm not hungry, anyways. Just a coffee for me.

Unlike the detective. Across from the booth bench where Tegan, Faylie, and myself sit, Nathaniel digs into a piled-high plate full of breakfast foods, without a care for the mess he's making of his face. Alabastra sits beside him, one hand laid against the booth seat the opposite side of the man, leaning back and biting casually into a strip of bacon from her own plate.

Tegan, having shucked her Sable Guard disguise and back in her own armor, only sips from a single cup of coffee, having already torn through her order. And surprisingly, Faylie didn't get anything at all. Instead, she lazily holds her head up at the chin with a leveraging hand, eyes fluttering and dipping in and out of consciousness, yawning with every other breath.

As Nathaniel devours his meal, he says, "Fuck, you got any idea how good food tastes after you been locked up?" He begins to sip at his coffee, and stops. "Wonder if they got any booze?"

Alabastra gives Faylie a nod. "Bug? Go ahead and give Natey his present."

"Hmm?", the faun responds, sleepily and far-away. A heavy yawn curls from her mouth. "Oh, yeah..." She pats around for her satchel, then after digging through it for a moment, simply unbuckles the strap and hands the whole bag over the table to Alabastra. The strap digs through Nathaniel's meal as she passes it over, dipping the dark cloth belt in syrup and egg. Faylie then collapses into the crook of her arm, content to sleep here in this busy diner.

Alabastra pulls a glass bottle from the bag, and hands it over to Latchet. "This was gonna be our bribe to getcha to talk, but... I think at this point it's just bein' a good neighbor."

The detective smiles at the rogue, and cradles the alcohol like a swaddled babe. He grabs the cork, pulling it with enough effort that his face turns an ugly shade of red, and it POPS out, vapor steaming from the flask head. The man chugs the liquid in loud gulps, before slamming it back down. "You're an angel of an elf, Camin."

"Doesn't come for free, Latchet. Spill it."

The detective wipes his hand on his coat. I'm starting to see the point of the client he mentioned in his file: this man is a disgusting schlub. "I thought I said to calm your tits until I got some amenities in me. Ain't done eatin' yet, am I?"

I slam a hand onto the table, and the man blinks twice in succession. "Talk, detective. I did not get dragged through this mess just to wait on your whims."

He scratches his beard, eyeing me over and tilting a head toward Alabastra. "Who's the nancy boy anyways?"

My shoulders shrink in. I am most assuredly not a fan of the way he looks at me. I'd know that stare anywhere, from growing up in boy's homes, constantly feeling like whatever I was doing, I was doing it incorrectly. I am a clear outsider to him; an acceptable target.

Leaning over the table to intercept his eyesight, Alabastra says with gritted teeth, "I suggest you ask less and answer more, Nathaniel." Her hands are balled in angry fists for a moment, before she leans back in her seat once more, and returns to her food. Through a mouthful of toast she continues, "Let's start with who took ya n' why."

Nathaniel shrugs, bringing a sausage-skewering fork to his teeth and chomping. "Ain't got a clue. I assume someone workin' for Mr. Serrone? Didn't get a good look before they clonked me on the back of the head." Ah. Fantastic, he doesn't know a thing. All of this was for nothing. Perhaps I'll throw myself in the river after all.

Tegan speaks up, "They didn't say anything? When you were imprisoned, I mean."

"Nah. They only asked me a couple things, and they didn't torture me for no answers, either. I think they just wanted me outta the way."

"Why didn't they just kill you, then?"

The detective tilts his head, annoyed at the knight. "Gee, why-oh-why didn't I think to ask that?" He picks at his teeth. "Besides, I pro'ly already knew the answer. Revenants ain't so easy to bump off. Guess the oppos did their research."

Tegan and I look to each other, confused. It's not a term I've heard. Alabastra leans forward. "You were a revenant?"

Nathaniel laughs. "Oh, did I not mention that one?" He takes another swig of his drink, and turns to Tegan and I. "The 13th infantry division: The Revenants. They used to send us into hopeless situations during the plague wars, expected us to die. Dragon lairs, The Deep, lich towers, Caskian fortresses... Spellboys put a gem in our spines, right there." The man slovenly reaches behind his back and taps at the base of his neck. "Lets command know if and when we bit the dust, and then - boom. Most of us that survived still got 'em."

We all stare at the old vet for a moment. "Damn...", Alabastra breaks the silence.

I'm the first to admit that I'm more aware of the domestic, pandemic history of the Runeplague than the battles fought in the magically sundered badlands where the northwestern border with Caskia once stood. I'd read pieces on the heroes of war, wielding magic against the monsters that crawled from rifts of wild magic, out of the ruins of old forgotten cities into nightmares of man. But they always read like propagandist pieces to me, and hardly covered the more practical aspects of magic that I was interested in learning as a child, so I absorbed very little of their historical value. If there was ever any at all between those pages, that is.

"Yea, that's the kinda shit we get for servin'. Dulce et... et cetera." Latchet piles another forkful into his mouth, and says through the wall of egg, "Damn shame it was a Lupine... used to think they were on to somethin'." Ah. I'm starting to see exactly why these three found this man distasteful.

His words halt the two awake women, shocked by the sudden turn. Alabastra backs up in her seat, lip snarling. "How the fuck can you say that after what you just told us?"

He only chuckles at her outrage. "Oh, you young ones wouldn't get it. You're used to all these... collective ideas, got your head drummed up thinkin' we're a nation of elves or halflings. Whatever." He lays his hand flat, leaning forward. "Don't give a fuck about any of that. I've seen what really matters. I'd give anything to not have to see it again."

"And you think the fascists got the answers?"

"They're the only ones that seem like they even care enough to ask", he grumbles. He pours his drink into his coffee, splashes of brown liquid raining from the edge of the cup onto the table around him, and he sips. "Ain't sayin' they're perfect... but I know I want a fighter in the ring when it's time to bout."

Alabastra leans forward. "We're asking questions. And maybe the answer's not to circle our own tail scared out of our minds." She launches into a rant, accentuated with erratic hand motions. "After the war we coulda done like Caskia - built somethin' that actually worked for everyone. Still could, if we stopped lettin' a couple hundred assholes stuff their pockets. Don't you think folk deserve better than this?"

She's getting distracted, again, debating politics with the man. I have no interest. "Regardless", I cut in, "The Serrones had you kidnapped. Is there anything else you can tell us about them... Lyla in particular?"

He waves his hand, brushing me away like a bug on the window, and turns to Alabastra. "You don't know what you're talking about - you were what, a toddler when the wars ended? Now you wanna yap about wages and goodwill... But your little lefty club's got monsters in it. They just wanna stir up all that trouble again... end of the fuckin' world."

"This stupid fuckin' country's so afraid of monsters in the dark... Nobody knows what caused the plague, Nate. Most of the people in my tent were the ones actually fuckin' affected by it!"

"Then if they really cared, they'd talk about the monsters in our city, right now!"

The rogue points a finger in his face. "They knock your brain cells loose when they grabbed ya? That's literally what we're doing here, you rummy fuck!"

"Oh, soak your head." The detective throws up his hands.

Around the cafe, several other patrons eye our racket with curiosity, roused by the sudden argument. I wish now more than ever I was as invisible to them as I am now to a mirror. The table stays silent for a moment, letting the tension cool again.

Nathaniel starts to pat around his jacket, and surprisingly, pulls something free from the inside pocket: a pack of cigarettes. Tegan raises a brow. "I'm surprised they let you keep those."

"Why? What was I gonna do, stuff 'em down my throat and fuckin' kill myself?" He taps on the bottom of the box to dislodge a cigarette, pulls it out with his teeth, and looks around. "Got a light?"

The two conscious girlfriends look between each other, shrugging. Without my eyesight leaving the table, I dig into my satchel and produce a flip lighter. I reach over like I'm about to hand it to him, then pull away as he brings his palm up. "Answers first. Lyla Serrone - what did you learn about her?"

His hard-boiled glare beneath a forest of bushy eyebrows tells me I've earned his contempt. Frankly, I'm not sure I care. We've rescued him, fed him, gifted him alcohol, and all-in-all ensured he has a tomorrow to see, and this grown man is acting like a spoiled child. He even pouts like one, arms crossed in anger at being denied his treats, and pulls the smoke stick out of his mouth.

"Alright. Fine. She was the brains, there - asked all the questions. Never saw hide or hair of Beric until this morning... didn't even know that's where I was. She was, eh... famous, I think. Godsly, too. They called her Blessed by the Effigial, or somethin' like that." That would be congruent with the angel wings, at least. Being 'Blessed' by the Effigial Pantheon is quite the lofty claim; assuming it's not a lie, of course.

Alabastra looks at me, a small impressed smile at the edge of her mouth. It heralds another spike of pain. Stop chasing her approval.

Then the half-elf's face falls into consideration over some other matter, and she says, "There was somethin'... off about her. Lyla. When I was fighting her, I... I couldn't, eh... do my thing on her." She stares into a corner, holding back from divulging her abilities to the detective.

Huh. If I'm understanding her right... she was immune to Alabastra's lie detection... Lucky her.

Tegan leans on her chin, considering. "She seemed... Way out of our league." Then her face gets hot. "M-Magically? I mean? Like she was uh, powerful." She repositions her hand so it lays over her mouth, covering for her stammering.

She was a surprisingly prolific caster for the wife of an obscure councilman... the holy, light magic she wielded was beyond anything I've seen of a priest before. I rub my chin, then startle myself with the sudden reminder of the scratchy beginnings of a beard that I'd resolved to grow. Ugh. I'm far too easily distracted.

"Perhaps she was a sorcerer", I say. One of a lucky few mages who need no knowledge or avenues of external power to wield magic, simply springing forth like the wellspring waters at the heart of the hill. "She cast without invocations or implements, and seemed no less tired for it."

From her laid-out position, Faylie mumble-yawns into the table, "Must be nice..." Unlike the faun's current predicament, sorcerers can wield magic for far longer before wearing themselves dry... a deeper font to draw from, perhaps.

Alabastra huhs. "And... what was she askin', precisely?"

Latchet answers, "Honestly, nothin' of consequence. 'Who do you work for, what were you investigating, real basic shit." He digs a piece of sausage out of his teeth, and flicks it away. "That is, eh. 'Cept for what she was askin' the first day she brought me there. Very first thing comes out of her mouth... wanted to know 'bout this watch I'd been hired to find."

I lean back in my seat, hand over my sternum. If it was the first day he was taken, that was before we stole it... they nearly beat us to the artifact. Suddenly, the air feels lighter.

"And... what'd ya say?", asks Alabastra.

"Nothin'." Nathaniel clears his throat. Alabastra's eyes dart over Tegan and I, before back to the detective. "And they wanted to know if I was workin' with anyone... told 'em I worked alone. That's the Gods' honest truth."

The rogue considers for a moment, looking back to me, eyes flitting over my person, then asks, "Who hired you to find the watch?" She's playing her hand close to the chest; not mentioning we read his files. I'm not eager to inform him of our break-in either.

"Never caught the fella's name. Who knows if it's connected..." It seems Alabastra's not the only one playing coy...

The rogue doesn't press him on it. "And... what were you looking into, before you got snatched up?"

He clicks his tongue. "Light me up, first."

My fingers grip the edge of my lighter, thumbing the smooth outer edge in self-comfort. Fine. I reach across the table, sparking the thumbwheel and starting a burn on the end of his cigarette. "Now talk."

Nathaniel takes a long drag of the cigarette, billowing smoke into the air like a sleeping dragon. "Right. These monster turnings. Seems like all over the city, half-monsters or cursed folk are... revealing themselves. From who I've talked to, by accident, but... who knows if that's the case for everyone." He hacks a wet cough from the smoke, and continues through the rasping, "Seems like it's mostly those who'd otherwise be able to disguise their natures. They're bein' forced out of hiding."

While that certainly doesn't contradict what we learned ourselves... that is an angle I hadn't considered. Not that it ultimately matters to me... I'm already cured.

The detective continues, "Some of 'em started goin' missing after, eh, bein' revealed. Never found one that was missin' for more than a couple hours... 'Cept." His head tilts, as he recalls the details, reading files behind his eyes that aren't there. "One of 'em came back. Case #412. Some... stage actress, apparently a wereshark outta water."

"Came back... from where?", Alabastra ventures.

"Dunno. All I did know was that the case was called off by her family after she came home... Because she was 'cured'."

I raise a brow. "... Cured." My breath picks up again. Surely this wouldn't have anything to do with the watch, and yet... how else could he mean? Someone has some other way of expunging these compulsions?

"S'what they told me." He smokes his cigarette again. "You don't sound too shocked. You heard about this already?"

Alabastra swoops in, "We... know of a couple ways around it. I dunno that I'd personally call them cures..." I glare in her direction, attempting to convey 'speak for yourself' with just my eyes.

Latchet shrugs. "Either way, I never did learn more. Where she went to, what this cure was... the day I was gonna go talk to her was the day I got snatched." Tapping the cigarette into an ashtray at the side of the table, he stares off into the window. "Anyways, I got a question... How did you find me anyhows?"

She leans forward. "Lady never tells. Though, I'll letcha know as a courtesy... cops were bribed not to come getcha."

His face curdles, the news as rancid as his breath. "That so..." Nathaniel leaves the still-lit cigarette in the holder, and slams the table in a flyby smack, startling the other patrons around us once more. "Damn."

"That one got your goat, huh?"

The detective sighs, "Just confirms somethin'." He stands, dusting the gathered crumbs off his coat. "If you're itching to follow up, you'll want Thassalia Demetrix, at the Sutolli Theatre." He motions for Alabastra to let him past.

She backs up out of the booth, but crosses her arms, warding him from exit. "Well, what are you gonna do?"

"Me? I'm gettin' the hell out of MC - out of Anily, if I can!"

"What?! You're just gonna leave?"

The man nods his head, holding the condescending smile of a lifetime of sorrows on his face. "Yep." He pops the 'p' at the end, to accentuate his point. "I bumped off two fuckin' Sable Guard back there. No way I'm stickin' around." He leans forward, gathering his things. "Besides, this whole country's about to turn sideways. If you were smart, Camin, you and your... whatever they are would get out, too." Yet another person convinced something monumental is about to occur in our republic...

Fists curled like it might protect her from his words, Alabastra says with a hard-edged voice, "This is my home. Hells or highwater, I ain't leaving."

"What, you think you got a chance, versus whatever's comin' next? You're gonna get laid flat, kid."

She shakes her head. "Even if I do... we gotta try. Maybe you'd get it if you hadn't given up and buried your head in a bottle."

He chuckles, once. "You can't change the world, Camin."

"I'll take that bet." She steps to the side, finally letting him out.

Nathaniel Latchet doesn't go, for a moment. He stares at the rogue, hard-edged glower softened into curiosity, jaw grinding. For how brilliant a detective he'd been talked up to be, I've only seen up to now a trainwreck of a man, more fit for a pigpen than an office. But here, standing just in front of him he seems to see a mystery all its own... who the hells does Alabastra Camin think she is? He appraises her, head bobbing with each pulled connection of thread in his microcosm examination, dried coffee and egg on the side of his face picked and plucked with each new entry in his case.

And then, as soon as he picks up the trail, he drops it again, and without another word, Nathaniel walks away. His sticks his hands inside his coat pockets, and quickly disappears into the crowd of the busy Nivannen streets.

After he's well and truly gone, Alabastra sits back down, staring at us all. "Well, we got a next target."

Tegan mutters, "I... guess I thought I'd feel better the day Nathaniel decided to fuck off forever."

"Just like that asshole, right? Don't let him getcha down, Dusty."

"He's not what's got me down..."

She breathes out through her nostrils once. "Yea..." Alabastra reaches across the table, holding Tegan's hand in her own. "It ain't gonna get any easier, babe. But you got me."

The knight closes her eyes, taking a moment to let the words absorb. "Okay."

I nearly mumble a 'hypocrite', before catching myself. I just have to ignore them. As the two gather their things, I turn away from the light spilling through the window so it doesn't exacerbate the rising migraine, and drop the lighter back into my bag. Perhaps I'll have to dispose of it, so I'm not reminded of Latchet.

Alabastra looks to the sleeping faun. "Let's go, Lightning Bug."

Faylie flops her head over, rubbing under her eyes. "Where did Nathaniel go?", she yawns.

"He went out for cigs."

"Oh... well did we pay for breakfast, yet?"

The rogue claps her hands together, and says, "Right." She pulls a small white check from the inside of her coat, and leaves it pinned under a plate.

Tegan looks down at the payment, then back up to the blonde. "Where did... that come from?"

She winces, saying through a cringing smile, "Might've... forged a copy of the check Silver gave us?" She whispers the sentence in rapid succession.

"Allie!"

"What?", she asks, incredulous. She pulls a cash note from the other side of her coat. "Tip's real, at least!" She hurriedly scarfs down the remnants of her meal as she stands. "Now... let's see if we can't catch the matinee."