Victor
I watched her go, but remained sitting, and watching.
"Are we following?" Ocean asked. "Sounds like fun."
I grinned, "Oh, I'm sure it will be, but knowing how the trick was done takes some of the fun, doesn't it?"
Ocean's grin turned to a thoughtful frown, then he said, "No, not really."
Smiling, I took another drink and then set my glass down. The woman behind the bar hung up the phone, and the sound of a siren cut through the night, getting louder as it came near. But I was focused on ... Ismael.
That girl wanted him to follow. She wanted to see what he would do. She was the same girl from before. Her elder called her Alicja. Interesting name. Alicja. I enjoyed the feel of it.
Noble Blood
Her hair was light and wavy. Full and thick. Surprisingly long, out from those scarves she wore like a turban when I saw her earlier. Her elder wore the same.
Ismael was correct when he named them Enedral. He also made sure I was going to intervene. I would have anyway, maybe. But the Enedral were our people on this side of the Curtainwall. My people.
Alicja wanted him to follow. That little bit she did at the end, was to put in his head the idea that now was the break he was hoping for.
It worked. Ismael was alert. He wasn't slumped on his stool any more. He was stiffer. His eyes scanned the floor, the door, the night outside. Circumspect, he watched the bartender. Then he slid off his stool, his hands gathering his needs off the bar, and he made his way to the door, just as the last three went out.
I nodded to the back door that Alicja used. Ocean agreed and fell in behind me as I passed.
Outside we lighted up onto the roof and ran silent, jumping from one building to the next. It was of course easy to follow so many people â and knowing where a naked white boy happened to be â And the firetruck lights marking the spot.
There was much to look at, flashing lights and pointing fingers. Several hoots and howlers. No one was looking in our direction.
The main body of the looky-loos arrived at the CVS drug store just as the fire department pulled up. And there on the roof, was indeed a naked person, looking pale in the street lights. Cold too, as a light fog had moved in from the Gulf.
My attention was on the Enedral girl. Alicja. Her and her quarry. I was certain she wanted him to follow. I guessed she expected something to happen with him, and didn't want to lose sight beforehand.
As suspected, she feigned interest in the naked man, while she kept her eye on Ismael. Standing inside a small knot of other watchers, she let him pass her by. It was a clean move. She had talents for a spy.
"Now that she has him, what's she going to do with him?" I wondered out loud to Ocean.
"Who cares?" he returned, exasperation heavy in his voice.
I grinned and glanced at him, "Hey, if you're bored, you can always leave."
"No, honestly, why do you care? I thought we were watching for hunters swooping down on that Ismael person."
"We are. She is too. Her instincts are telling her something is going to happen. Aren't you curious how she senses this?"
He frowned, "No, not in the least. She's a mortal."
"Huh," I grunted. "Is she?"
He raised an eyebrow, but turned back to look down at the scene below, motioning for me to do the same with his chin.
Glancing back, I spotted Ismael making his escape. He ducked into a shadow area, just like she suggested. Now he was heading down the street, south toward the gulf.
She saw him too. I spotted her watching from inside another small group. She watched him until he turned the corner, and was making motion to follow, but then halted, unsure. Looking down the line I spotted what stopped herâ three men left their groups and followed after Ismael. They had the look of predators. Dangerous.
"She has good eyes," I said to Ocean.
"Smart mind as well," he agreed.
"I'm going after the human. You stay with her. We'll meet at the ground. Make sure she gets home safe tonight. She'll likely go home from here," I said.
Ocean gave me a frown, but nodded. He didn't like missing action. And with those three, there would likely be some.
I left the roof and landed on the street behind the house. Touching down, I drew in my wings and shifted into my human state. The dragon was for battle and war, and on some occasions, ceremony. The world was built to accommodate the human shape.
It wasn't that I held any fondness for the human, Ismeal. My goal wasn't protecting him, though he certainly was having a bad day. I was after information. Information I felt certain his pursuers would have. We called them 'Hunters,' because they believed we were demons and they hunted us.
To be fair, some of us fit that description, in the context of their religion â with the horns and the wings and tails. But we weren't in their religion. We didn't corrupt or punish or whatever the hell they thought we did. Whatever actions we were accused of, which deserved death and torture â we didn't do. We were people just like them â well, sort of.
The typical Hunter, I was discovering, had an aggressive outlook on the world. He generally had an overactive sense of 'disgust' as well. They looked on anything new with suspicion, which turned to hate with little prodding. Their need to protect was overdeveloped by anger and undermined by their suspicion.
I did read their book. After meeting a few of them. It was a thick book, and I wondered if I had read the right one, afterward.
Ismael was taking us down to Marigny. Some places had cheap living around Bourbon Street, in the off season. Rented by the week so they could maximize during Mardi Gras. Fat Tuesday. Epiphany. Not on Bourbon, but off a couple of streets. Not very far.
The three hunters split up. One followed from behind. One from across the street, and one down the left side street. I could hear them talking to each other, using cell phones. They were definitely after him, and planned on bursting in his place. They were looking for me of course.
I didn't see any point in dragging this out. Slipping quickly to the side street. I came up on the one there from behind. I hit him first in the lower-spine, and as his head snapped back, hit him at the base of his skull. He was out before he finished inhaling.
I leapt to the roof with him and decided to use the neutral ground by the next street over, to gather them together.
Neutral ground was what New Orleans folks called the wide green belt which ran down the middle of a street. It was wide enough to play football in, if you wished. It served as a park, or simply a nicer view than houses directly across from your front porch. With trees, bushes and grass, they would hide a couple of unconscious men for a while, without anyone stumbling on them.
Once that one was cuffed and gagged and covered, I went after the one who followed Ismeal from across the street. I attacked in basically the same way and stashed him with his friend. That left the last one, who followed behind his target, only keeping a safe distance so he wasn't noticed. This one however, was on guard, and no longer following Ismeal, who turned left at the corner, and disappeared.
He was a Hunter alright. A bit taller than my human form. Perhaps a bit wider in the shoulders as well. Could be even a bit faster. All of which gave me a grin, which I didn't bother hiding. I strode towards him with a smile on my lips.
"So you found me. What did you win?" I asked him. We were a couple of yards from each other. "What do you want? I don't do selfies."
"Who are you?" he asked.
"That's disappointing," I said, with a bored tone. "You're out here, for just, anyone?"
"I ain't gat time for wise asses," he said, and a long steel baton slipped from the sleeve of his leather jacket, down into his hand.
"Does that mean you're happy to see me?" I asked.
He looked around, and asked, "where the hell are you guys?" into his collar.
"Look," I said, "we got off on the wrong foot. I just need a couple of questions answered, and we can all go home. Right? It's late, and you're obviously a bit stressed out."
"Shut up ass wipe!" he growled and raised up his steel pipe.
"Right. So, anyway, where is the group that killed the king?" I asked.
He froze.
"Good," I said, seeing his reaction, "I'm talking to the right person. That's good. You've heard something. You know something." I said, stepping closer as I spoke. He stepped back with each step of mine.
Spreading my arms out, "I just want a location. I don't need names or vital information. Just a location. Just tell me where they are right now, or where they were yesterday, and no one has to lose a hand or an arm or anything like that," I said, taking another step forward.
They say the eyes are the windows to the soul. If that's true, his soul was gone. There was nothing in his eyes except space and that space was getting wider.
"Hey, don't have a heart-attack on me, just give me the place, and run home," I told him, holding up my hands.
"Mother fucker! I ain't scared dat!" he screamed and charged through the space between us, swinging his pipe like a bat.
I charged inside his swing, so that his hands hit me instead of the bat â which would hurt â and slammed my palm heel up into his chin, cracking his teeth together. He must have bit his tongue, because when he pulled back and stepped around me, blood dripped from his mouth.
He was fast, and sure. Years, if not decades, were invested in his training. His left hand went in his jacket pocket, and I saw the weight of a gun there. When he drew I slapped it out of his hand, but got whacked in the arm with that pipe, at the elbow.
An electric current of pain ran up my arm, and I winced.
He was right, he wasn't afraid of me. He was terrified. But he wasn't going to let that stop him. Shouldn't logic come into play at some point?
Blocking another swing toward my head, I ducked under and managed a deep strike into the man's liver, and then I stepped back.
The fight was over.
He didn't realize it, but it was, and after looking confused for an instant he attempted to charge again. And that's when the pain struck.
It's a paralyzing pain.
His eyes rolled like a horse trapped by fire. He tried desperately to breathe, but his lungs were jammed up. If he was lucky, he would pass out. Because then I would have to get him over to his friends, and wake him up, and he'd be rested.
If he didn't pass out, he was going to feel like his guts were on fire in a few seconds, and he'd be awake while I questioned him further.
He had the answers I needed. And he would tell me.
Aw, it didn't look like he was going to pass out... sucks to be him...