Chasing the Devil's Tail

Låsen på dagen var kun lige akkurat blevet drejet omkring et par håndfulde minutter tidligere. Det varme lys fra den ene loftslampe var stadigvæk tændt, eftersom at heksen sådan set endnu ikke havde fået begivet sig op ad den spiralle metaltrappe. Der var trods alt stadig nogle småting der skulle ordnes efter lukketid, før hun for alvor kunne give sig selv fri. Eller fri og fri, det var så meget sagt. Fyraften for Saga kom aldrig på et bestemt tidspunkt. Og det var altid dikteret af hende selv. Hos Little Lamb var der ikke helt så meget af ’kunden har altid ret’-mentaliteten, som man nok ville forvente hos mange andre forretninger.
Men dét betød også at løbet ikke var helt tabt for den druknede mus ude foran mahogni-døren.

Slagene rungede igennem den tomme butik og fangede straks den lille heks’ fulde opmærksomhed, fik hende til at stoppe midt i en bevægelse og dreje hovedet, ganske roligt dog tydeligvis også vagtsomt, i retningen af den aflåste indgang. Den kridhvide kat, der ellers bare have ligget og slappet af på betalingsdisken, ventede på at dens heks ville følge med den oven på, var meget hurtig til at vågne fra sin halve lur og lige så hurtig til at stå op på alle fire og hvæste advarende ad døren. Modsat Saga spildte Circe sjældent tid før der blev springet til konklusioner om mulige fare. Sagas blik vandrede mod katten, som dens pels begyndte at stritte og hun tog et par skridt ud fra det lidt alsidige hjørne for at bedre kunne se, hvad der foregik, som der blev banket og kaldt igen. Desperation. Det var nemt at høre på både tonelejet og måden der blev hamret på. De mørke bryn krummede sig en smule, som de intense blå øjne fangede et glimt af kvinden igennem det store fremvisningsvindue.

En hånd blev strøget beroligende henover kattens pjuskede pels og virkede som en drøm til at få den til at falde ned igen. Derefter rakte hun hånden frem mod døren, gjorde et diskret gestus og det kunne høres hvordan den tunge lås blev drejet om og låst op. Samtidig havde Saga nærmet sig døren lige i tide til at passede med, at den ville være låst op, da hun tog fat i håndtaget og endelig åbnede op. Der var ingen tvivl om at denne kvinde nok ville foretrække at blive ladt indenfor i tørvejr, men der blev ikke rigtig givet særlig meget plads til det. Bare lige nok til at hun kunne træde et skridt mere i læ. ”Yes? You need my help? Exactly who are you?”

A siphoner. Something immediately changed in Saga’s overall presence. It wasn’t really hostility or anything of that sort but the little nagging spike in her side that was siphoners – or one in particular – did get poked by the mentioning. However, the only visible reaction was how she seemed to stare at the human woman a bit more intensely and how her brows created a cliff between them as they got pushed together. This wasn’t good news. And already now, as they stood there in the opening of the door, Saga doubted she would be able to bring anything better to them. But still she finally stepped back, opened the door further for this drenched early-night customer. “Come in,” she simply stated, sounding more like a command than an offering.

Then as the woman stepped inside, activating a beautiful little welcoming chime above the door, Saga calmly closed it after her and muffling the sound of the heavy, pouring rain. Making sure it was properly closed. She had experienced it slamming open before. Something she’d very much prefer not having happen again. She did not appreciate people slamming her door. Or any sabotage to her beloved boutique. She didn’t lock it, although this would be the last business, she would accept that day. Speaking of which..
Saga turned to the female human - for human she so clearly was, they just had a certain detachment from that of supernatural creates, even with supernatural abilities, that distinguish them fare stronger – and almost right after confirming that she did indeed drag water in with her, she held up an elegant hand and… snapped her fingers. Snap. The sound wasn’t loud and someone with stronger finger could probably snap so loud that it would echo out through the room. But the strength of the snap didn’t calculate the success of the spell she had cast onto her visitor. And the moment after the snap a gust of cotton soft wind swirled up from her feet and all the way over her head, drying her off. After that Saga walked towards the counter, passing the woman.

And at last she spoke: “This someone has been either wrong or telling you lies, I’m afraid.” It was best to just rip the band aid off in one go. “Assuming that you are aware of what a Siphoner is, you should also know what they do. None are immune to magic per say, but give one enough time and a warding spell would not be much of a hindrance for them.” She had tried. Countless times. Coming to a witch for help with this wasn’t the best choice. Witches relayed on magic too much.

It maybe should have caused some concern in Saga when it was revealed that this hadn’t really been familiar with the supernatural of the world before. At least not before the summer of that year. But the thought didn’t so much as graze her. Of course, she understood that importance of keeping the ignorance of those like Cecilia Rivers here. She knew about a handful of reasons as to why. Some she could agree on. Some she didn’t see the logic behind. But what she very much was to terms with what the fact, that there really wasn’t much to do about it, now that the veil had been lifted. Why hide it? Usage of her abilities were more natural to her than some of the mundane equivalent. She hadn’t touched the lock on her door with her down fingers for most of the decades she’d lived there.

Saga turned around to now look towards Cecilia, to observe her movement and pulls. How she had been slightly out of breath had exposed how she must have been running or just marching at fast pace to get there. And the panicked desperation she sensed in her body language and voice had told her that it wasn’t just to quickly get out of the rain. The mention of a gender – him – also didn’t pass her by.
“A break in. And an accident?” Something didn’t quite add up, which in itself made her specific suspicion grow larger. “This siphoner, do you believe that he broke in with the intention of hurting you? Usually when speaking of a break in it’s in the sense a robbery of some kind but it doesn’t match with him then revert to violence,” she then asked with the pois professionalism drowning out any potential compassion for the trauma that this human with out a doubt had gone through. While she stood there, she started folding the long sleeves up. One lined fold after the other until they almost reached her elbows. One black mark, a simple symbolic swivel, became visible on the under arm of her left arm. Look the par of a tattoo.

She vaguely titled her head. “I was thinking; You seem to know quite a lot. More than one would expect from an unaware human being. How do you know this man is a Siphoner? There are even supernaturals who don’t have knowledge of that subrace. Or at least they don’t use the name ‘Siphoner’.“ She straightened herself a little and then crossed her arms under her humble bust in a rather relaxed manner. Her face neutral and stoic yet with no signs of sterniess.

Almost the exact moment the name had left Cecilia’s tongue, the pure white cat, who had calmed down again already before Saga had opened the door to let the woman inside, and who had more or less just been laying there on the countertop not doing much other than watching the interaction,  grooming its fluffy fur, suddenly hissed so immensely loud. How it had hissed at the banging on the door from before was nothing compared to what occurred then. Once again it was up on his four legs. White fur spiking on its back, tail puffed. And sharp, vicious teeth were on display for all to see. If Saga had wanted to keep her knowledge about this Joseph Blackwood to herself, play dumb and lie, her opportunity was pretty much screwed at that point. Even someone with very limited to no knowledge of witches and their familiars could thread together a connection from how strongly the cat had reacted. Like a scared animal pushed up in a corner and forced to become aggressive to an extent.

And then even if the cat had not acted out like that a few changed happened to the witch as well. The muscles in her cheeks tensed up and both a glimpse of exhaustion and resentment showed up in her intense ocean blues before she sighed and pulled her gaze away from Cecilia. “I know him.” Too well. “Until earlier this year I had thought he was well out of the country. And you’d be in your right mind to want him kept out of your home. He’s not a good man. Dangerous, yes. But powerful isn’t a word I’d use to describe him. Rather ‘experienced’.” Saga held her demeaner emotionally neutral. Collected, one would say. But although the bitterness didn’t translate to her face or her voice, the words used did possibly carry some of it.
“But that is perhaps a bigger problem than if he was powerful.” Saga tightened her arms and the observant one would notice how her shoulders was ever so slightly closer to her ears. The cat had stopped its hissy fit but was still very much alert, ready to strike, as it chose to only sit down afterwards instead of laying back down. It licked its mouth, polishing its fangs in a way. Saga then started walking out the desk where she on the other side of it let her arms fall down the side and physically opened herself op again. “It’s difficult – presumably impossible – so keep someone like him out. Or trapped. But like I said; with enough time a Siphoner can breach through any magically constructed ward. Which means it won’t be strenuous to put up a ward strong enough that it would take time for even an experienced Siphoners to neutralise the magic. That way giving you time to react.”
There would even be the possibility of it just taking too much time. She knew Joseph. He was matricular about his plans but still she didn’t have to strain herself to imagine him getting ‘real tired’ of the efforts and then give up. Try another day. Another method.

She didn’t want to get Joseph mad and yet she was looking for a solution to keep the same mad man out of her house – and Saga would guess; her life all together also. Those two things didn’t quite play well with each other. Of course, pissing off Joseph, from what she knew about him, would take just a bit more than one would think. But, at the same time, the man would switch in an instant. He was like a constant game of hot potato. Or Russian roulette. Her following comment on not wanting to be on his bad side almost had Saga scruff audibly if she had not been as composed as she was and kept it soundless instead. “He’s not even someone you’d want to be on the good side of,” she stated coldheartedly but yet her voice did break of from its neutral elegance. She felt like she spoke from experience. Which side she herself was on, then… or now, she wasn’t entirely sure of. Her disdain for him hadn’t seemed repaid the last time she was unfortunate to meet him.

Turning her head to look into a little secluded area of the store, she turned over a few thoughts while embracing a silence, which she was very much used to and found maybe more comfort in than she would in the sum of a city full of life. There were many reasons why she had built her business those couple of side streets from the bustling square. She then looked past Cecilia’s slim figure and out of the large display window, out in the pouring rain.
“Take a seat, Ms. Rivers.” With those words finally passing Saga’s lips she simply gestured to the beautiful metal framed staircase that stood a little to the right for her – left for Saga – and spiralled upwards to the floor above them. And even further up to the third floor. The lowest steps were laid down so the human would still easily look in the direction of the witch. There was a tall stool for people to sit down in the one corner but this seemed as the better choice. Cecilia didn’t need to be on display for Saga. She just looked like someone who needed to sit down. And not sent straight back out in the dark rain.

“Are you from Oakheart? Do you live close?” From the way the human woman had mimicked that of a drowned mouse Saga could only assume that she had had good reason to travel through the weather. Also… if he had had the displeasure of running into Joseph here in Oakheart it would mean he was closer than she cared for.

Saga’s eyes wandered discreetly to the human’s knee just as she herself reached to massage it. A pained nerve, perhaps? Cecilia wasn’t like most of the customers that came to Little Lamb so this was, in a way, a new thing for the little witch to have to deal with. She had come across unknowing humans and other desperate and scared creature before in her life but that was now a long time ago. And her experiences back then hadn’t really solidified any kind of development in her as a person on such aspects. She still lacked the concern for strangers. However, Cecilia Rivers was far less a stranger than strangers without a face and a name and a presence so far.
The human woman would be right about not receiving much of an answer as she dared to ask further into the relationship of Saga and Joseph Blackwood. Saga usually didn’t have any problems with just giving people straight answers as long as she had gotten the direct questions but this… this was a complicated affair and she stayed quiet. Well, that was until a follow up passed over Cecilia’s tongue. Are you scared of him?

This seemed to make something click in Saga. Something very faint and silent. But something nonetheless. Was she scared of Joseph? The witch looked away as thoughts soared through her head and she calmly lean back up against the desk behind her, placing her hands around its edge and straightened her arms in a posture both stiff and poised. “No,” she then revealed. She was scared of being without control but that wasn’t what Joseph did to her. He could take her magic away, and that in itself was frightening for a witch. But it ended there. She was still in control of herself even without magic. “I’m not one to be scared of the dark but that doesn’t mean that I’m not very well aware of the dangers that the man is capable of. You asked how I knew him.” With an elegant little jump, she lifted herself up in her arms and got up to sit on top of the desk. Crossing her legs as an instinct and looking back at the human. “I’ve worked with him. And I’ve known him for longer than that. Known about him before then. We had what you can call a partnership.”
Circe, the white cat, now calmed down, got up to walk over to its witch and lay down by her thigh. Golden eyes looking to Cecilia.

Saga glanced shortly towards the empty and wet streets outside. And then she held up her hands. She moved her them in slow movement and as she did a distorted, almost like looking through transparent jelly, bubble of reality covered her hands. Until she unleashed the magic in a very soft pulse. Nothing really changed. Expect for the short moment where sounds of rain got muffled just to return. She had casted a spell. One that would keep unwanted listeners from listening in. The chances of Joseph being near were very slim but for Cecilia’s paranoia… Then this should do something. At the very least they’d know if the spell got de-spelled, absorbed, giving them a window of knowing.
“I’m afraid you’ll have to make the trip to Oakheart again, ms. Rivers,” Saga started, as she jumped back down from the desk to walk around it. Finding a piece of robust paper and a pen from the drawers in it. She was quick to not only scribble something on it, but as she walked over and handed the now folded paper to Cecilia, there would also be a small drawing of a map. Very minimalistic. Only a few lines with few directions and a X with the name ‘Banshee’. Under the map was a strange word written. “Go here. There’s a plant that negate magic. You can guess why someone like me wouldn’t have some in stock. But Clarissa can help you. Hand her that note and she’ll know.”

“I would think so, yes,” Saga replied while turning her gaze out through the big display window, out unto the streets as if she would be able to see the shop in question just across the street. But of course not. Little Lamb were located a few smaller streets away from the square and the only thing across the slim cobblestone street was another high apartment building like the ones on either side of the tree-story high building the spell-shop. This area was residential. But the gaze did help the little witch focus her mind to remember if Clarissa had tendencies to keep the shop open in the later hours. She wasn’t sure. The demon had young children to look after… “However, she has a way to know if people should arrive before they do. You might find yourself lucky tonight if you feel like venturing further in this weather.” As she said that, Saga looked back at Cecilia with less of the feeling of there being absolutely nothing for the human woman to do in her stance.

It was fully understandable to want just a little bit of knowledge before going to a specialist. They were there to help those who didn’t know, yes, but everyone knew of that slight feeling of not wishing to come across completely ignorant. Saga gently shook her head at her questions, leaning back against the desk, hands grabbing the edge and arms stretched to hold up her posture. “That’s only be necessary if you wish to hold a stock of the flowers at hand. But they won’t do much that way. Instead you’ll need to tie a bundle of the flowers with some string and hang them upside down in your home like you’d so while drying herbs.”
“And don’t worry about them drying out. I’m sure you have found that dried herbs can create a stronger and more lingering scent than their fresh counterpart.” Cecilia would surely experience that if she followed through and visited Clarissa. The quant boutique she was in did have a few of these bundles of dried herbs hanging and more stored in boxes and small bottles hidden on shelves around the store but the dominant scent around the two women was lit candles and ink. No dust. The place was kept fairly clean although it wasn’t particularly neatly organised.

Just like the little witch hadn’t expected to have someone banging on her store front door after closing hours in desperation, she didn’t expect a following visitor either, so it was a surprise to hear the bell above the door sound once more before she had remembered to lock it up again, calling it a night. But the surprise was only a very muted expression on her pale face as she turned her eyes to the well-known poison master. The exact same demon she had send the human to see. Already before Clarissa started talking about that specific part, Saga was aware that there must be some kind of connections. There were after all on such coincidences in a town as Oarkheart. Or even in a country like Gaia.
Her face softened ever so slightly as her eyes laid themselves upon Clarissa and gave quite a vague sense of an up-giving head shake without the actual movement being made. “I direct customers your way and this is how you chooses to repay me. Demanding insight. As well as tea,” she calmly stated while she for a handful of seconds didn’t show many body language that would tell that she was going to comply. But of course that was just how Saga was. “Let’s go upstairs.”

Then with an elegant hand gesture towards the door behind the demon, her telekinesis tugged at the lock and knowing it in and out by now, she turned at locked the door. This time for good. The white cat on the table jumped from it as if only half of the gravity affected it and in midair, it turned into a white veil of a breeze before getting wings and feathers and soaring the last distance to its witch in the form of the trusted crow landing perfectly on Saga’s shoulder at the same time, as Saga had been on her way up the swirling metal staircase. The warm light in the store turning off by the time as they had reached the first floor.

Saga’s home was not a representation of the amount of money she was actually pulling in from her spell work - or other underground means. Maybe only in the fact that she owned the three story building. But the floor they reached was a simple one room, one plane place. Only cut off by a bathroom in one of the ends. In the other end was a cozy corner with a soft couch and a TV, which was partly sectioned by a shelf. In the middle, up against the wall, was the kitchen and dead straight in the middle of the floor was the dining table. It wasn’t big. It was humble.
“I believe you might already know about him. So I’m not sure what more information I will be able to give you about him. But it seems he’s raising more havoc than anticipated. Harassing defenseless humans all of the sudden,” Saga started disclaiming as she walked to the kitchen counter to fill a kettle with water and placing it on the stove to heat up while she went to a cupboard and reached as long as she was up to take down a bag of personal mixed tea.

The white crow set off from its witch’s shoulder as soon as it got a little bit too cramped, while she had her arms raised up over her head, and flew over and landed on the thin TV to keep the blood demon company instead. It even puffed its feathers as if to show its extra fine looks off some more. Circe was still as proud an animal as some would describe Saga, but they were also more vain and did indeed like compliments. Then as their feathers calmed down again it quickly shook its head and followed the shake further down until the end of their long tail feathers before turning to look all the way behind towards Saga who had by that time grabbed two mugs and was portioning the tea blend in each of them.

However, Saga shortly stopped her movements. Not in shock or freezing but… “I do,” she said with the continuing relaxed tone as she resumed her movements, now folding the bag of tea back together, tightly to not have the tea go bad too fast. “I would be lying if I said I hadn’t been acquainted with Joseph for quite a long time. We worked together back in the days. Closely.” What a strange night. She hadn’t been talking about her relations with the man for years now and suddenly two in one night wanted to hear about it.
The screaming of the kettle could her attention almost before it begun, and although the sound could easily create a sense of panic, she was of course so used to it by now, not having converted over to an electrical one yet. Quickly and swift, she grabbed and lifted the kettle off the stove and with the other hand - not actually touching - turned it off. “I hadn’t seen or hear anything directly from him before I ran into him at the academy. The day your brother had me in detention nonetheless.” The boiling water got poured over tea leaf in each cup, really powering the sweet gingerly aroma started spreading out through the floor. “Him and I had something but it ended very much like it came to be. Naturally, you could say. But, I’ve no hands in what he’s doing at the moment, if that’s of your concern. I believe I never had.” She sighed deeply, stirring each mug a few times, looking at the loose tea swirling around before falling back to the bottom. She clinked the spoon on the side of the second mug and put it aside.

With a mug in each hand, she finally joined her friend by the couch, firstly handing her one of the mugs, then placing a leg on the couch before sitting down on it in a snuggly position. Sipping at her own tea to test the strength. Light..

“As did you. Last time we met, you mention him having briefly come across me,” she calmy pointed out for the demon, further establishing how close to every small detail was something the little with didn’t only caught on to but remembered as well. Her mind was very much like a filing archive, filled with what she had seen, heard, tasted. Felt. And although her demeanor on the outside for the most part showcased a calm and collected image her head was always working. Unconsciously, almost. Analyzing the tiniest of specks her overserving gaze could find. Of course, remembering what had once been said to her, not more than half a year later, really wasn’t a grandiose thing to excel at. “I’m guessing you must have told him about Joseph, as well? With the two of them working at the academy alongside each other.”
Saga hadn’t stayed at the academy as a student much longer after the incident. It wasn’t so much that she didn’t feel safe there, actually, she had never felt as safe there as she did everywhere else. She had felt the wards and protection in the walls, when she had wandered inside them. But she couldn’t have stayed. She had gotten what she could from that place, which sadly had been very little new information about the matter that had let her to pull on the student disguise in the first place.

Intrigue suddenly sprouted forward in her face. Her eyes widened ever so slightly and her dark brows rose a tad bit up in her forehead. She gently lowered her mug from her lips, where it had stationed itself for to her discreetly blow small huff into the burning tea, not wanting to create big waves that would make the tea overflow and spill. For Saga, it was still too hot to be gulped. “How do you know this? Have you spoken to these friends?” she asked, faintly baffled as she had thought Clarissa only knew as much as she and Ajax - and this woman, Cecilia. That somehow didn’t seem that way by the way the demon had expressed herself just then. Saga saw away from her visitor for a moment, so she easier could lean forward and then place her mug on the short coffee table provide. She had served herself a cup out of curtesy. An instinct when pouring someone else one. In reality she was neither thirsty or chilly, not really in need of the tea. “However, I don’t think he is. While I’m sure he has the skills to coach someone to become stronger I also doubt he’d want to. Not unless it was for his greater good. Because that’s the kind of man he is. A greedy and selfish man.” Leaning back again and moving further until she could rest her back up against the soft pillowy back rest but still kept herself from sitting slouched or half laying down. “Take away the coldblooded murders and the horrible manipulation, he’s a man with not only a purpose but one with a solution as well.” Elegantly she placed an elbow on the couch’s backrest and turned her body a bit towards Clarissa where she then rested her head on the back of her dangling hand. Looking at her with those signature direct eyes and veiled face. She was clearly more calm around it all. Either that or she simply didn’t care. Not as Clarissa cared. Not as Joseph possibly cared, deep down. “And of course, he has a handsome face that’s quiet deceivable. The first time I heard of him, I remember thinking what an interesting man he was. And that feeling only grew when I met him.” It was many years ago now. And yet.. she somehow remembered the sensation of having met him before…