November 23

It was not hard to sight Lirssa. At the curve of the road from Rhydin to Stars End there was a small meadow. Twilight and the flicker of the city wall lights caught on the metallic gleam of her ship. Lirssa was pacing, or prowling, at the short ramp at the aft of the vessel. It was not a huge ship and roughly the shape of a ladybug. The wings were close to the hull, but obviously could spread out from the main, rounded body of the ship.

The lights were dimmed, but inside was spartan as if a warehouse had grown wings. Lirssa kept looking up the road as she crossed that threshold again and again. Her fingers twisted and twirled a knife. The light coat, unbuttoned was her only nod to the cold of the evening. The rest of her clothes were typical: flight pants, simple jersey shirt, and a loosely wrapped scarf.

He'd spent the first nine of those twenty minutes in debate with himself over the addition of seraph blades. Lirssa had told him to gear up, but still, he was unsure of how heavily he needed to do so. Somehow he doubted that she would send him such blas" texts if there was some sort of demonic force involved.

What he did know was that he missed the snug, unforgiving stiffness of his gear, and how his collection of weapons felt in all of their slings. Three small knives on the back of each thigh, long dagger at the outside of his right leg. A collapsible baton at his back, within easy reach of his left hand, and a sheng biao, freshly oiled, near his right. His boots were rigid with an extra accessory, and he checked the mechanisms in each sole to be sure the spring blades were in working order.

The twin seraph blades were just the right size to fit behind the ironing table that folded up into the wall of their walk-in closet. After an extra minute's contemplation, he closed the doors on them and instead took the silver gun that he kept in the nightstand. There was a copy of the New Testament in that drawer too, a motel staple, just in case one felt remorseful and in need of a God after they were done ravishing flesh. He checked the clip, the slide, the safety, and tucked it into his coat on the way out.

Deciding a motorcycle would be too conspicuous, he instead arrived in one of the town's several transport vehicles, and passed the driver a modest fold of bills for his service. With his hands resting comfortable in his pockets, he casually swept his gaze up and down the intersection, then headed toward the pacing figure in the distance.

The sound of a transport turning about to go back in the city brought Lirssa's pacing to a stop. She kept fidgeting with the knife, though. It was comforting and focusing. It kept her from crossing the distance toward Cris. The meadow would only have to be crossed again. Economy of energy. It would be used soon enough if she had her way.

When the gentler lights welcomed Cris in their circle, Lirssa looked him over trying to spot what weaponry he had brought. The likelihood he had weapons she could not see tickled her imagination and made her smile. "Thanks for coming," she said when he was close enough.

The knives he visibly wore lay flat and tight against his legs, cold silver blending in with the straps and buckles that made up his gear. Loops of finely crafted electrum chain swayed with the loping motion of his stride. He nodded for her gratitude, shifting his gaze to the ship nearby. "What's happened?"

With a thumb jerk over her shoulder to the ship ramp. "Come aboard. I'll explain on the way." She turned about and then paused. It was only right, of course, to tell him something. He had a right to know before he made the final decision. A clearing of her throat and a scratch to her brow, she said, "Found where some spacer is holding folk for shipment out. Not slave trade exactly." But she did not have a better description. "Well, maybe it is." With all the variety of philosophies around, she realized she had better give him an out. "You got no problem with people stealing others, then I guess this isn't your type of shindig."

"And so, you're seeking to liberate them?" unadulterated curiosity mingled with his personal feelings toward her. He wasn't exactly surprised to hear that she'd take it upon herself to do something about this, but at the same time it impressed him that she would. "Do you know what sort of situation we're looking at' Security, guards, probability of getting everyone safely released—-" to name a few.

A smirk and shake of her head. "Probability of getting them safely released, yeah, math not my good subject. I don't have numbers. What I do have is if I don't do something, I know they aren't getting released, and then they are out there in the Black. Scattered. You think finding folk in Rhydin is hard, try going out there." A flickered glance up at the skies. "And then they'd be up here." A tap to her temple. "But, yeah," and she turned to go inside, he would follow or he would not. "I know the layout of their warehouse, the number of guards that patrol outside, a few of the weaknesses, the security is...gonna be interesting. I got a plan." A beat. "Sorta."

He followed, tucking away each fact she was willing to give. "What information you have will be fine. How did you hear about this, anyway?" Glancing down the ramp leading back to the ground. He could count in one hand the number of times he'd been in an airplane, and any ship he boarded had been floating in water.

The cargo bay was an open space. Two closed rooms were off to the right. A framed area, if there was a door it was not visible, separated cargo bay from bridge, though that was generous term. The room was wide enough for a tall man to lay down and toes to top of head touch each wall. The helm held two monitors plus several readouts flush with the flat of the metal console. Lirssa dropped into the chair behind it. One switch and a button, the engines warmed and the aft door closed. "I'm not the only one out on the streets looking for kids. Me, I'm trying to get them to homes. Others, not so much."

She gave a nod to another chair on the other side of the bridge. "Welcome to sit, but this trip won't be long. I don't expect any traffic." The way she said the word obviously meant more than other ships in the sky. "I'll be taking us to land at my docking bay. The warehouse is about two klicks, sorry — kilometers to the south of it." She looked over at him, piloting the ship by instinct. "You ever been to Stars End?"

Feel free to sit' This was one of those times where he felt like he should. Frowning, he cautiously fit himself into the empty seat at her side, looking for some sort of seat belt. "Sparingly," about Stars End. "I tend not to spend a great deal of time with my feet off the ground." He shoved back into the chair as far as he could go. "They're children?"

There were straps on the chair. They were shiny and looked brand new. It was clear they saw little, if any, use. "Yeah, children." She took the helm, a half wheel connected to a short, thick metal pole that entered the flat console. "See, here's the gig. Around Rhydin" Well, non humans are pretty typical, right' We got them all. Werefolk, shapeshifters, fairies, all the like. And yeah, you can find that out on the plants out there, but not so many all mixed up and mish-mashed as here, eh?" Her mouth turned sour, eyes sharp with anger. "Easier to grab the lost ones here off the street. Nobody is gonna look for 'em, or most nobody is. Watch has enough to do, so I'm not blamin' them. Got full blown lunatics burnin" things down. Who's gonna search out the shadow children?"

A slow inhale. She realizes she's getting riled up and away from the salient details. "So, they grab 'em up here, ship 'em off world. Find a planet where they're odd, unusual, set 'em up in a show. Make some cash off the carnivals and freakshows. Make money off kids fears and their race. And if a wealthy patron wants "em for their collection?" She forcibly relaxed her grip on the helm. It took thought.

Somehow, he'd thought that the children they were meant to aid were all mundane. Easier, by far, to deal with. Weaker, purer. Rarer, in a town like this. But he understand the angle she explained, too. His mouth firmed up in a frown that matched hers, and he clicked the straps in place across his chest. "If you're ever in need of an extra pair of hands and I'm unavailable to you, Fin would more than likely help you carry out tasks like this."

She had opened her mouth to tease him about using the safety straps, but when he spoke, she lost all thought to what she was going to say. "Fin?" Color her surprised. In fact, it threw her for a moment, and she sat in silence as the hodge podge of Rhydin was left behind. They crossed over a mountain pass into the valley that held Stars End. "Really' He...doesn't even know me." Or, perhaps what she should have said was she did not really know him.

The expanse of Stars End was in a fashion rather orderly, as if even as it grew and expanded, everyone claimed their spaces in square plots. They passed over bars, schools, tall towers of apartment homes, and found the docking bays and warehouses. Ships were coming and going, but the lanes were lightly used.

"Wanna get some bounty?" A quirk of a smile. "Glamour me a little. Maybe werecat me. Talk about how you overheard Tim saying there's a good job paying for finding such as me. Want to see what the boss says about your entrance fee. Get them to get us inside."

"The problem with that idea is that the moment that they discover something is wrong, we will be the ones suspected. I still think our best course of action is something swift and silent. But I'd like to see what sort of place we are dealing with."

She couldn't argue with him. Well, she could, but she'd be on the wrong side of the argument. With a nod, she leans a little to look around the corner a moment more. The guards still moving away, backs towards them. She returned to her back against the wall. "If it is set up like most of them around here, it's an open space except one or two rooms up some stairs in the back." She shrugged. "That doesn't help with any alarms or security, but at least narrows down where they'd be keeping the children." She did not add 'if it is built like the others.' She glances up to the opposite roof. "So, wanna risk going up to the roof or take them out a group at a time. If we wanna do that, we best get to these guys now while their backs are to us."

He exhaled, calming the storm of his thoughts. His gaze cut swiftly back and forth between the building, and the guards moving further away. "If they were in a smaller group, I would choose that option. But we do not want to waste our stamina or weapons on fodder."

He nodded toward the building before them and headed toward it with purpose. With the strength of every long stride he took, the soles of his boots should have thundered, but the only sounds he made were the subtle shifts and clicks of buckles, and the whisper of small chain links against one another.

She stayed a moment behind, old street instincts kicking in, watching for any change. Keep up but keep space. With a gentle roll from heel to toe, the sound of her steps muted by the skill.

Incapacitation was slowly becoming a pipe dream. If they were to get in and have the time they needed to rescue each child, they have to permanently put down the dogs. Once out of the wide open street, with the warehouse's bulk to his right, he felt a bit better. He stooped to take something from his boot, a long, thin device whose surface was scored with runes. The tip resembled an uncut chunk of glass. He looked up and down the alley before setting the tip to the warehouse wall and drawing a wide square.

If successful, the wall would start melting away to nothing, providing a "window" through which they could see, and hear, the other side.

As anticipated, the wall transformed. What it revealed was the large warehouse with a haphazard array of wood and plastisteel boxes. Lights hung from the steel beamed ceiling. The only shadows were far corners and those places in the maze of cargo bins. There was no person to be seen. Sounds of voices drifted down from two rooms.

The two rooms were at the top of stairs, setting them on what would have been the second story. Both shared the glow of their lights through windows. Only one had any motion. A figure walked to the window, looking to the closed doors on the opposite side, and then walked away. More laughter, muted by distance and closed doors, but laughter all the same.

The other room, though lit as well, showed no movement.

In the upper corners of the warehouse were small, orange lights. Indicator lights to those familiar with such security devices. Things that let people know cameras were in use.

He stared over the stele's glowing tip, taking in the details before him as he had not long ago. But back then, he was working with a demon, and had a half suicidal Nephilim for a decoy. This time, there was only the two of them. "From this level, it looks ordinary," he said quietly. "Can you see the lights?" nodding with his gaze aimed upward into one of the visible corners.

She leaned to look and nodded, "Yeah." Another glance away, she kept her eye on the guards, whispering. "They'll be coming back this way soon."

When she looked into the warehouse once more, seeing the offices, the one where the man moved closer to the stair entrance and the other farther away. She was not particularly concerned with that when she saw the exposed beams of the ceiling. "Seems they wanted most to just keep people out. Those cameras, then" If so, probably feed to where that guy is."

"What have we brought for distraction?" He took another look to commit the image to memory, and scraped the tip of the stele across the wall. The window began to fill itself in.

"How big a distraction you need" And ya want them occupied figuring something out or occupied tryin not to die?" She was already digging into her pant's pocket.

Brows rose. For the second time that evening, he was impressed. "The second option for the guards on their way back. Something to keep their attention, possibly enough to pull back-up from the warehouse."

A slender disc in hand, not much bigger than her palm, and she waggles her brows. "Chim-chim-cheree. Um, you're gonna need to watch my back for a few. I've got to power the thing up, which means I'm rockabye baby. But soon as it goes, it's a free runner. Lots of lights, some pow-pow, and should keep them busy unless someone figures out how to suck its energy away. Sound good?"

Rockabye' "How long do you need?"

"Shouldn't be more than a minute. I'll sling this down the alleyway here and then set to. Doubt anyone will come for us, they'll be too busy. Just in case, ya know" Ready?"

He nodded, aware of the weight of the gun on his pocket. He was not confident in his own skill with it. "Perhaps try to do it at a greater distance from the warehouse. Or as much of one as you can."

She gave a wink and nod. In a similar fashion to skipping a stone across the pond, she flicked the disc down the street. It skipped, hovered, skipped, and hovered again. It sounded like the soft plink of water falling from a rooftop to the asphalt. A common sound, not at all alarming. It settled nearly five hundred meters away from them closer to the opposite warehouse wall.

Lirssa sat down, closed her eyes, and went into that place between. With the power waiting to be released, she reached out to the trigger. It was like a cat, tense, tail twitching, ready to pounce with just one flick of a feather touch. Lirssa gave it that touch and poured the power into it — such a willing spirit. It suddenly came alive with sound and light, scattered shots like a series of laser fire coupled with true lasers snapped out to the nearest targets. Those being the guards.

And such things, the touch of spirits, do not go unnoticed by necromancers. One guard was not distracted as his three companions were trying to fight back against an incorporeal object. He sensed someone else, and went to hunt it down.

With the object doing its magical mayhem, Lirssa stirred and blinked up at Cris. "Is it doing good?"

He kept his eye on the device as it skipped along toward the warehouse across from them. He squinted against the light show, the rest of his mind occupied with their next few steps. They could split up, take out the cameras and the guard keeping watch over them simultaneously.

There was one figure that advanced at a quicker pace than the others. In their direction, no less. It did not seem concerned with the show they'd created. "You've split them up. I would consider that a victory." Even so, he let his right hand fall to the coils of thin chain hanging at his hip.

Lirssa drew out a knife to each hand. "I think I got someone's attention. You go, I'll catch up." Relying on Cris being able to handle at least the start of whatever he would find inside before she got there to back him up. With a quick flick of her wrist, one knife zipped past towards the oncoming man, but it was knocked away at the last moment by a baton he drew from his waistband. A terribly ornate baton with a growing glow. "Well isn't he fancy?" She murmured.

"Absurd. If his goal is to keep you busy to wait out the diversion, you'll soon be outnumbered. But it may have been reported. If none of these men return to their posts afterward, the warehouse may still empty." It was a lengthy way of saying that he did not feel at all at ease with her suggestion. "In your training....has Canaan taught you how to adversely manipulate another's supernatural abilities against them?"

She froze at comment. Voice pitched low. "You're the only one who knows all that I can do. You want me to...declaw him?" Lacking a better term as the guy is slowing down, but she can hear his voice speaking low and the ground around him is starting to gather a fog unrelated to weather.

"Ideally, I would rather you not waste your energy on him, but I do not think he's an opponent that you can face alone unless you are on equal terms." He drew back into the alley. "Do nothing too strenuous. I'll not keep you waiting long." Turning, he sprinted along the warehouse building, then swiftly around the corner.

A brisk, agreeing nod. Surprise was no longer on their side. Someone was likely to investigate soon. Lirssa joined Cris as they went for the door, drawing out two knives, ready to take down at least two cameras as soon as she was in range.

A sword would be a comfortable addition, but he missed the weapon he'd left wrapped around the broken neck of a man in an alley. He left the weapon behind and followed after Lirssa. There would be time for a pit stop later.

Like her, he fingered the sets of throwing knives he'd strapped to his legs, ready to fit one in each hand when the time came. He slipped inside through the small crack they'd made in the doorway, already looking up to the second floor where they'd seen the office.

Over the wall of the stacked cargo bins and crates the tops of two heads could be seen at the office window. A glimpse of anyone coming in, that is all that could be seen before the crates would offer cover. One of the heads moved. One of them was going to the office door, and the second head moved from the window, too.

Risking the opportunity, Lirssa darted inside, zipping a knife up toward the camera on the right side before pressing against the stack of crates.

He stuck close to the wall, the crates, anything that provided cover and stability, trusting her marksmanship skill and pure determination. In the shadows, he moved his hand from the throwing daggers to the longer knife strapped tightly to his right leg, doing his best to banish the thought of drugged children stuffed into the crates they took cover behind.

She leaned out just enough to take the camera on the right. And then they heard the office door slam. Someone had definitely noticed. A blast struck the wall just above the door. It was meant to startle them, to get them to move, and it nearly worked on Lirssa. She ducked down as embers of burning plastic and sparks from the struck steel showered down. Her face was pressed against the wooden crate and in one of the many holes she saw the rays of light criss cross to reveal a still body.

"No," she hissed, pressing hard to try and be sure of what she saw. The little belly rose and fell with a steady breath. Alive. But yes, a child in a crate, ready for shipment.

"Cris," she motioned for him to look down in the crate near him. "Child?" She whispered.

He hissed a breath and crouched further down along the wall. They'd taken out four guards already. A warehouse this size could have several more. They did not know how many warehouses were even in on this scheme. Gaze cute aside when she said his name. He frowned at her single word question and turned to inspect the crate beside him. Airholes, shadows. "....by the fucking Angel," whispered, finally.

When he confirmed that another crate had a child as well, the urgency increased. Urgency meant expedience. She had to force herself to relax the grip on another knife drawn from the sheath. Whomever was in the warehouse would have to die. There was no way they could just incapacitate them and then uncrate each child.

Then, she had to chuckle. Always in hindsight, she could have just pretended to be the one shipping the cargo. But then the scheme would have continued. Another group coerced with the hope of safety and then moved on to a life of service as an oddity. She moved closer to Cris. "This is all sideways." Feeling foolish and guilty for dragging him into this. "They have to die, ya know, but save one." She gave a nod toward the office. "We'll need information." A roll of shoulders, forcing herself to relax, she asked Cris, "Together or split up?"

The guards were not kidding when they meant drugged kids. Bodies from the second floor joined them down on the first, orders shouted. Stay alert, fan out. The CLEARS began coming in from the furthest corners. He nodded for her suggestion, and kept low, his gaze following the guard making a sweep of the wall closest to them. "Next time—-the lights."

Because he presumed there was going to be a next time. And one after that, depending on how broad the scheme reached. "Split," finally answering her question, and he gave a nod in the direction they'd come, indicating she follow the other wall, away from him.

A smirk, duly noted about the lights, and then the smirk was gone. Serious, sharp nod and she turned to follow the opposite way. It was time to clean house.

On Cris's way the first of the guards was met. A stocky, short fellow. His ears barely visible they were so close to his head, and eyes black and round with the barest gold, like a bird of prey. Sharp vision drew his sight to Cris quickly, but there were no weapons in his hands — except his hands themselves, which had sharp, three inch claws where nails were supposed to be.

Lirssa met her own guard some twenty meters further on, and she slid low under his first swing of a baton, but his shout out meant that a few other guards were drawn that way. Delicacy had long been set aside, and when she was sliding down, she lifted a foot to kick as hard as she could toward the man's crotch and hope his protection was not strong enough against the blow.

He murmured something else about Angels, abruptly feeling like the field mouse a falcon had spotted overhead. Time spent holding still had let the muscles of his left shoulder begin to lock. It ached to move, but he did so anyway. There were too many crates between himself and the bird eyed man. The lack of a weapon was comforting—-he never had any problem with claws. Hoping he wouldn't startle the child in the crate too much, Cris threw his hands down and vaulted over it. But his intention wasn't the bird eyed man himself. He aimed a look upward at the windows to the office, knowing a mad dash for the stairs leading up to it would draw the bird man's attention. And that was why he did it.

The crate shuffled only the slightest bit under Cris's push. The child within still slumbering. Seeing the course Cris was taking, Bird Man, changed course and charged after. He bellowed. "Two!" The guards then knew there were at least two of them. They increased some caution.

And that helped Lirssa. With the one guard out, she was fast on the heels of another. This one, though cupped his hands together and inside grew a static, sparking ball of electricity. This was not something Lirssa was up for just at that moment. She turned aside, running along the wall for only a few paces before gravity demanded she get down on the floor again. She did not dare draw his fire towards the crates. She did not know which ones had children and which did not.

What she wanted to do, though, was get someone else in the line of the man's aim. Another guard was obliging enough, coming from behind some crates, rifle raised and ready to fire. She ran between the two, pausing just long enough to get them to think they each had her in their sights, and then she hopped up the tower of crates and jumped for a ceiling beam, just barely getting fingertips on it. Below a blast and sizzle of exchange and both men were on the ground, though the Sparker was twitching and holding his belly. The other was barbecue.

A man stood at the door of the office. A rifle in hand, aimed up at her.

Two guards saw Cris's target and tried to cut him off while Bird Man was coming from behind. No other guards were seen.

It was unfortunate that they hadn't had a chance to get a good look at the man who ran the show. Cris presumed the rifleman was not him, but he couldn't be sure. And so, when he pried the first of six knives from his leg and threw out his arm, it was not to kill the marksman, but to bury the weapon in the outside of his wrist to render that hand, and his ability to shoot cleanly, useless.

Already moving at a considerable speed, he leaped to meet the two incoming guards and turned his body in the air like he meant to continue sprinting on nothing, parallel to the ground. The toe of one boot aimed for one guard's head, the heel of the other for his partner to knock them both aside and off balance.

The man yelled as the knife sank into his hand between fragile bones. "Kill them!" Patrim Cahill yelled at his diminishing number of guards.

Spared the shot, Lirssa swung up to the rafters. As swift on the beams as she had been on the floor, she ran to the area of the office and dropped down on Patrim, legs wrapping about his neck and tightening. He struck up at her, slapped and tore at her. With a turn as he dropped to one knee, face turning red, he struck her head against the edge of the office door frame. She saw stars, curling over, but she did not relax the noose of her legs about his neck.

The guards teetered at the blows Cris landed. With a boot to the head, that guard rocked backwards, hitting his head again against the wall and crumbling into a heap on the floor. The other guard stumbled but regained his presence of mind to draw his gun, only Bird Man disrupted his aim, dashing by to chase down his personal prey. The gun fired, clipping Bird Man in hip, bringing him to the ground in agony. The last standing guard did not check on his companions, but kept pursuit of Cris to the office.

He hadn't a mind to slow down, even with the Bird in pursuit of him. Cris would have dealt with him when he had to, but presently, he simply needed to outrun him. A gun fired, and he ducked, veering in the opposite direction on reflex. A wild look over his shoulder spotted the Bird rolling and shrieking something shrill and unintelligible. Either these were some of the sorriest shots that had ever existed, or the guards were simply not prepared for an assault by a team of such skill.

He ducked, dodged, on the off chance that there would be more bullets fired. When he reached the stairs leading upward, he took eight in two strides, then threw his weight backward and flipped. Sparks flew as two bullets buried and ricocheted against the stairs' metal exterior. When he landed, the long knife from his right leg was already in his hand. He lunged up close and personal to the spine of the last guard, throwing his free arm around his neck. The dagger, he gouged into the man's spine, up to the hilt until he felt the warm ooze of fresh blood on his fist. When the guard ceased his thrashing, Cris let him go in a heap to the floor, and used his body as just another step on the way up to Lirssa.

The man was unconscious, and Lirssa was struggling to not be far behind. Hand to her head, she kept blinking to attune her eyesight. Her hand was wet and warm, as the cut beneath it poured blood as head wounds, even superficial ones, tend to do.

The sound of approaching footsteps, Lirssa drew a knife, ready to throw as soon as her vision gave her a solid shot. She did not want to hit Cris by mistake. Which was good since it was Cris approaching.

Her wild, bloody face crested over the stair's horizon. He turned his own weapon, business end down, and held up his hands. "It's all right," Bird man exhaled a gutteral moan of pain. "For us, at least." A pause. "Your head."

A slow sigh, she rested back against the door frame, unwound her legs completely from Patrim's neck. "Hit my head. I really have to stop doing that." A dry, puff of a laugh. At least she was not giggling like an idiot like last time when she had gotten a concussion. "It'll be fine in a minute. They all down?" The warehouse was quiet except for a scattering of whimpers and moans, but no one was trying to take initiative.

"Down enough." He slid the long dagger back into its sheath on his leg and crouched before the unconscious man, roughly patting his body down for concealed weapons or communication devices. "Put pressure on it, yes?"

A nod. She took off one vambrace, rolled the sleeve of her shirt a few times, and then pressed her arm against the cut.

Patrim had a pistol under his arm, a phone in his shirt pocket, and a few scraps of paper in his jeans pocket. The paper had numbers, arrows drawn. It likely meant something to him, but hard to figure out for anyone else. "May be we need to ask one of the other guys which crates have children. Get them out, and then we and take this guy into the authorities?" She wanted to interrogate Patrim herself, but she also did try to follow some accepted laws of civility.

"Or we do so ourselves. At present, I can think of only two pertinent questions: how do we open these crates, and how broad is their operation." Pistol taken and set aside. He took the phone too, but that he slipped into his coat pocket. The papers, he held in his hand.

"Right then." Sliding up against the wall to stand, Lirssa looked over her shoulder to the office. There were three chairs. One behind a desk with a monitor and a neat stack of papers on the left hand side. Two chairs at odd angles from the desk, as if whomever sat in them last got up in a hurry, setting them askew. "Best get him restrained for when he wakes. I'll leave him to you." With her hand still against her head, she walked to the stairs. Her gait was slow but steady. "I'll see if one of these guys out here can tell me which crates to open."