(no subject)
They've trained for this. They've faced countless things stronger, faster, deadlier than humans; they've fought vampires, and zombies, and a dozen breeds of demons. And, a year and a half ago, Slayers.
Which in a way has been the whole point of this little exercise.
As agreed, the local Slayers have split off to go after the demon spy. Mei and Karine won't be there for the kill; Margret is covering for their absence from their assigned patrols tonight, and when this whole matter comes up before the Council, all three of them will have plausible deniability. Jordie was adamant: no one's taking a fall for this who doesn't have to.
Their quarry's still ahead of them, and damn she's fast ... but the three of them are ready for this, and motivated, and the traitor is not getting away. Not this time.
It's getting darker, the sun already well behind the city's foreshortened horizon. She dodges them for over half an hour in a maze of back streets, but the bracelet on Jordie's wrist -- provided by Astrid, one of Ms. Harkness's coven trainees, through what she called "midnight requisitions" -- keeps up a steady pull in the right direction, and will keep it up for a night and a day. All she needed was line of sight, just once. Now it's just a question of who can keep running the longest.
The streetlights go on in the distance, but only shadows make it as far as this alley behind the movie theatre. Litter crunches underfoot, ancient popcorn bags and jumbo drink cups spilled from the dumpsters, and up ahead Beth stumbles like a deer brought to bay. Jordie's eye registers it coldly, noting Almost there.
When the car pulls across the mouth of the alley, blocking the last avenue of escape, her heart leaps. Maybe it's Karine or Mei, maybe it's someone else entirely, but it's help --
Except it isn't, not for them. Because one of the rear doors is flung open from inside, and all she can see is a scaled green hand beckoning, and then Beth's climbing in, and all three of them lunge forward in a last burst of speed but the car's already pulling away. Sara unslings her crossbow and aims.
"Don't," says Jordie, lifting a hand to forestall her. "We don't want to cause a traffic accident."
"She's getting away!"
Her jaw sets, and she holds up her arm with the bracelet. "No," she says, very calmly, "she's not."
Which in a way has been the whole point of this little exercise.
As agreed, the local Slayers have split off to go after the demon spy. Mei and Karine won't be there for the kill; Margret is covering for their absence from their assigned patrols tonight, and when this whole matter comes up before the Council, all three of them will have plausible deniability. Jordie was adamant: no one's taking a fall for this who doesn't have to.
Their quarry's still ahead of them, and damn she's fast ... but the three of them are ready for this, and motivated, and the traitor is not getting away. Not this time.
It's getting darker, the sun already well behind the city's foreshortened horizon. She dodges them for over half an hour in a maze of back streets, but the bracelet on Jordie's wrist -- provided by Astrid, one of Ms. Harkness's coven trainees, through what she called "midnight requisitions" -- keeps up a steady pull in the right direction, and will keep it up for a night and a day. All she needed was line of sight, just once. Now it's just a question of who can keep running the longest.
The streetlights go on in the distance, but only shadows make it as far as this alley behind the movie theatre. Litter crunches underfoot, ancient popcorn bags and jumbo drink cups spilled from the dumpsters, and up ahead Beth stumbles like a deer brought to bay. Jordie's eye registers it coldly, noting Almost there.
When the car pulls across the mouth of the alley, blocking the last avenue of escape, her heart leaps. Maybe it's Karine or Mei, maybe it's someone else entirely, but it's help --
Except it isn't, not for them. Because one of the rear doors is flung open from inside, and all she can see is a scaled green hand beckoning, and then Beth's climbing in, and all three of them lunge forward in a last burst of speed but the car's already pulling away. Sara unslings her crossbow and aims.
"Don't," says Jordie, lifting a hand to forestall her. "We don't want to cause a traffic accident."
"She's getting away!"
Her jaw sets, and she holds up her arm with the bracelet. "No," she says, very calmly, "she's not."