While Fallon had been busy researching safe inside of her society?s library, Sai had gone about it in a much different manner. He stood outside of the old rickety hut he had spent years avoiding and even longer trying to forget, an obvious scowl scoring his face. He had already been there for half an hour just staring at the falling-down shack, the wood rotten and its leftward lean more than noticeable to the naked eye. He hadn?t wanted to go there but after a day or two of going over his other options (which turned out to be none), he couldn?t see any other choice. Were it for any other cause other than for Kingsley, he wouldn?t have even come. But reminding himself that it was indeed for her, he found himself deepening his scowl and taking the first step toward the wretched little hut.

He didn?t announce his arrival, instead just swinging open the door and stepping in. Straightening, he pressed it closed behind him, lifting his head enough so that his eyes could peer out from under the dark brim of his hat, letting his glower go plainly seen.

The hut was a decently sized shelter, albeit still small by any standard, its one vast room sectioned off by half a dozen stained sheets and torn animal hides. The smell was abhorring, an awful mixture of various herbs and alchemical components, all too bitter and violently stinging to one?s nose. Tables and stools took up most of the main room, bowls and mortars and pestles and other assorted tools of the trade laying scattered about haphazardly as if the occupant hadn?t cleaned for months. Sai wouldn?t have been surprised if that were indeed the case.

??Oo be comin? now to bother old Mahg, huh?? The heavily accented voice of a woman sounded from one of the back rooms just before she came into view. She stood at a short height and was slight of build, although the latter was honed with the precise lines of muscles that spoke tribute to her highly tapered ears. Her pale skin was smooth yet tinted, as if she had smeared dirt and soot all over, and tattoos marred her face and what could be seen of her chest and arms. It was suitable to assume that she had tattoos everywhere else as well. She wore most of her auburn hair in a thick bundle of braids and loose dreads, what little being left to natural texture being bound by strips of leather or beads, the entirety of it decorated with more than a dozen trinkets, feathers and bells.

?Ah, Sai?,? the voodoo woman exclaimed, his name being drawn out as her pale lips peeled back, revealing a set of surprisingly white and straight teeth. Her orange eyes flashed wide. ?So dis true. You ?ave come back to Rhy?Din. I knew you?d come to see me.? Mahg moved away from her private chamber and into the main room, slipping around the fallen articles and furniture with a grace that made it seem as if they weren?t really there.

?So, ?ow ?ave you been, Sai?,? she asked as she came right up to him, her short stature barely bringing her to his chest, her head tipping back so that she could look straight up at him and show off that curl of a smile. ?It?s been a very, very long time.?

?I?m doin? well, Mahg. Nothin?s changed. Don?t seem like you have either, by the look of it. Still haven?t burned this place to the ground yet, huh?? The Gunslinger glanced about the ancient shelter, from left to right, before looking back down at the tiny elven creature standing before him. He could smell her skin from here, a concoction of earth and smoldering fire and something else that was entirely her own. It made the back of his neck crawl.

?Ah, Sai,? the woman exhaled, turning her face away into her shoulder as her lids fell closed. ??Ow could I ever leave? You wouldn?t know where to find me.? Her eyes slithered back up to him, orange irises glinting with a hidden secret. ?But I could find you.? She paused, just long enough to have her lips coil. ?And we wouldn?t want dat, now would we??

Sai didn?t answer, not verbally anyway. He just gave a grunt and pushed his way past the shaman woman to further himself into the hut until he found a low stool in front of a shaky table and set himself on it. He didn?t look back at her. He already knew that she wore a wickedly pleased smile.

?I need your help with somethin?, Mahg,? the cowboy said, rubbing a hand over his face down to his chin. The stubble at his jaw was thick. He hadn?t even though of a shave in days.

?You need help from me?? Mahg cooed, her features feigning pleasant surprise. She moved in his wake, again slipping through the mess with remarkable ease until she found herself on the other side of the table, sitting cross-legged on the dirt floor. ?And what sort of help do you need from Mahg, huh??

?I need you to tell me whatever you can about this.? Sai had reached into his coat pocket and drew out the red leathery strip that Kingsley had given him, laying it flat on the table between them. Mahg?s eyes dropped down to the foreign fabric that now sat before her, the color a shocking one among the dank shades that otherwise composed her living quarters. It was mere seconds before her eyes shot up again, their edges thinning.

?First you give me what I want.? Her face was void of all joy or amusement, only her narrowed eyes providing any expression.

Sai?s own eyes narrowed, his jaw setting hard. He knew what she wanted, had known before he even got there. Even now he had it tucked in his front coat pocket. He had known the voodoo woman for over a decade now and each and every time they met, he gave her the same thing. But that didn?t make giving it to her any easier.

Finally Sai let up, giving a sigh even though it sounded more like a growl. Calloused fingers reached into his jacket and pulled out the small glass vial, thunking it heavily onto the table. Both of their eyes lowered to it, even though his hadn?t wanted to, and they both knew what they were looking at.

Within the tiny bottle swam a black, eel-looking thing, its corpus flawless as smooth ebony, its flesh sleek and slick. The endless body slithered and bulged, taking up the entirety of the vessel, entwining around itself continually as it pressed and throbbed fruitlessly against the glass.

?Perfect,? Mahg cooed, spindly fingers reaching out to quickly nab the conspicuous vial, tucking it into one of the many folds that made her tattered robes. ?Now.. ?bout dis.? Thumb and middle finger plucked up the mentioned article, letting gravity stretch its length vertically before her as she dangled it between her and the Gunslinger. She turned her head this way and that, sunburst eyes locked on the leathery piece of ribbon.

?Dis is a very strange ding you?ve brought me, Sai,? she said, twisting the fabric between her fingers. ?Dis is going to take someding special.? The cowboy frowned as ?something special? never turned out good, watching as it started off by the elven woman flicking the ribbon into a heavily stained bowl off to her left with as little regard as she would a fly.

?Don?t worry, Gunslinger,? the woman smiled, eyes squinting shut with the expression. ?When ?as Mahg ever let you down.?

As much as he hated it to admit it, Sai knew that the answer was never.

He watched in silence at the voodoo woman began her work, the fingers of one hand dipping into a small basin half-full with something resembling ash while the other reached for a small bundle of dried herbs. Both elements were tossed into the bowl before reaching for more items; liquids, herbs, powders, dried insects, tiny pieces of animals (and maybe even from a human or two), all thrown into the vessel along with the leathery strip. Halfway through, she looked up at the Gunslinger, giving him a sneering smile before going back to her work.

Finally after the bowl was filled with a grotesque amount of items all of various sizes and textures, including her own spit and blood, the shaman wrapped her thin fingers around a worn pestle and began grinding all of them together. The sound it produced alone was repugnant. The smell was even worse.

?Dhere we go,? she said, scrapping the pestle off on the side of the bowl before setting it aside and taking the small basin between both hands. Lifting it up, she brought it close to her face and, to the cowboy?s dismay, she inhaled deeply, then let out a full breath into the sickly mixture. The smoke that burst to life wasn?t expected and it had the Gunslinger?s instincts jolting. He kept himself motionless though, unwilling to expose his unease to the voodoo woman, and he watched her as she inhaled again deeply, her eyes drawing wide, orange orbs staring unblinkingly into the dark mess.

?She is not of dis world,? Mahg said, her lips the only movement from her. ?She comes from a place ruled much more cruelly dan dis one. A creature of pain and misery, dhere is no ?arm dat she can not enjoy. Created and yet no longer controlled, she is ?er own master now. No one ?olds sway over ?er.? Sai?s grimace didn?t cause her to hesitate. ?But she is in contract with one. De Messenger. ?E ?as come a second time seeking de Astral.?

At the mention of that specific word, Astral, Sai?s eyes narrowed hard. In the eleven years that he had known the voodoo woman, she had never said it before. Her reasoning for saying it now was enough to get him suspicious, let alone that she had never before cared to reveal it. That last part just made him mad. But before he could say anything, be it to confront her or accuse her or otherwise, Mahg continued on.

?But she is de one ?unting ?er for ?im, dis? Mord-Sith.? The title, even though freshly learned, sent an icy chill racing down the Gunslinger?s spine. ?She will use whatever she can to do it. Dhere is nothing too low for ?er to try. Yet she does not want de Astral for ?erself. She ?as no use for ?er like de demons do. But she?ll take ?er, if she can, and if she does, de Astral will know pain. Dhen she goes to De Messenger. But de ?unter will get her payment.? Mahg?s malicious smile curled. ?It is de fire-hair dhat she wants.?

Then without another word or any warning, the shaman went silent. No sound, no movement. Not even a breath stirred in the woman?s chest. She became as if she were paralyzed, a statue, staring down into the bowl cupped between her hands.

Then, just as suddenly as she had become motionless, the elf began to move. A swift intake of breath swarmed the life back into her body and her hands were eerily slow and steady as they set the vessel aside. Her eyes remained fixated on the table in front of her, their dark pupils the size of pins. The cowboy had never seen the woman so effected. He didn?t like it.

?Mahg,? he said carefully. ?What?s wrong??

?De Mord-Sith,? she started after a long pause. ?She ?as de power to manipulate magic, to steal it and turn it against the one who wields it.? Her eyes flicked up, wildly orange. ?Or kill it.?

?But I am fine, Gunslinger,? she said with a sudden surprising sense of ease, leaning herself back and giving him one of her usual chesire smiles. ?Nothing can bother old Mahg, huh? But dat is all I can tell you of de Mord-Sith. She has barriers that even I am not able to break.?

?Jesus,? Sai said, sitting back and rubbing his fingers across his stubbled jaw. He didn?t like the sound of it, any of it, and it made the hunting wolf inside of him growl. And after a few moments of nothing but silence between them, the cowboy stood.

?Thanks for the help, Mahg,? he said, turning to start for the door.

??E?s not de only one, Gunslinger.? Sai paused, his hand on the handle, glancing back over his shoulder toward Mahg. The look in her eyes was sinister, all too knowing and cruel. ?De Messenger. ?E?s not de only one dat can hide de truth. Dhere are secrets everywhere, some closer dhan you dink. And dis time? even yours isn?t safe.?

Responding with only a deep frown, the Gunslinger stepped out the door.

---

He didn?t bother going home, or rather to the shabby excuse for an apartment that passed as ?home?. No, Sai was headed straight for the church. The scowl hadn?t left his face since he had stepped foot outside of the voodoo woman?s hut and he could feel it cutting hard across his jaw, scoring a harsh line. It didn?t matter though. He wasn?t out to impress anyone. All he wanted right now was some answers, and to make sure Kingsley was safe.

Turning through the cast iron gates, the cowboy went right up the front stairs. He stood for a moment in front of the church door, his mouth a thin line and his aggravation pulling hard at its short leash. But finally he lifted a fisted hand, rapping hard on the thick wood, off-handedly hoping that it wasn?t Patrick who answered the door.

"That's mighty kind of you, ma'am." A hand went atop of the cowboy hat as he dipped his head low, mocking a proper remove-and-tip. It also served as a damn good shield for hiding the grimace that crossed his face as he stepped through the door, the Wards barraging him each in their own way. But they let him pass, and when he was sure he wouldn't be wearing the face of someone who was bearing a gun wound, he tilted his head back up.

Sai's passage inside gave her reason to breathe easy. She hadn't shown much of her study of the man as he entered. She refused to receive the same kind of treatement from Zenny that Agatha suffered when she fell far too shortly of her expected vigilance. She reached behind him for the heavy door and pulled it closed, sweeping along ahead of him down the nave. She took a left turn, pausing at another heavy door while she waited. "I keep a coffee maker in my office, such a wonderful invention, don't you think?"

He followed easily enough, thick boots clunking down the hallway after her. His eyes were busy, albeit not frantic or panicked, calmly taking in his surroundings as they went. With her comment came a small smirk, hitched along a glance to her. "Definitely one of the finest. Easier than tryin' to roast a good pot on the road, that's for sure."

For all its outer appearance, the inside of the church was rather simple. Dark wood floors with a wide red carpet leading to the nave. Equally dark wooden pews stood in uniform rows but they had been known to be moved for larger events. The pipes of an organ gleamed like a forest of silver bamboo to the left of the pulpit, behind it another bank of intricately detailed stained glass windows. The cold sun shown through them, casting glittering patterns all over the altar and its instruments.

Once he was through the door, Sister Margaret continued on. The hallway was close, made of white painted stone. Modern light fixtures replaced the torches and candlabra usually stationed around the church. "Do you travel much, sir?"

"That I do. Only been here for a couple of months. Been here a time or two 'fore that but that was long 'nough ago to almost forget." He watched the transformation of archaic, religious surroundings into simple, more modern fixtures. Then, an afterthought. "Sai, ma'am. Don't mind you callin' me that."

"What, then, has brought you back," she paused, her dark mouth curling into the remnants of a cheshire grin. "This Kingsley, perhaps?" She pulled a small key from a pocket in her long coat and slipped it into all three of the locks lining the outer edge of a door. It was one of many of the same doors, but hers was the only one that had the golden plaque spelling 'Margaret.' She preceded him inside, the scent of coffee already thick and ingrained in every surface.

The office was small, a large desk stood in the northwestern corner, facing the east wall. Its wingbacked chair sat in front of a bookcase stuffed with books. Nearby was a small table with a water cooler and coffee pot, styrofoam cups, creamer and sugar in between. There were two comfy chairs before the desk, a large couch on the east wall. What was left of the floor was taken up by a plush area rug that barely looked like it fit in the small room. Sister Margaret dropped off her coat and gloves and went to the window, working the blinds to let slats of cold gray light into the office. She gestured to one of the chairs before the desk. "Please, have a seat. What do you take with your coffee?"

"In a way, yeah. Been friends with her family for years. She's like a kid sister to me. Was asked to come and make sure she stays alright. And black is just fine, thank you." He stepped in behind her, one look, left to right, taking in the appearance of the entire room in one fell swoop. Moving around to the offered seat, the cowboy sank down into one, forearms leaning atop of his knees. "How 'bout you? Been long here at the church?"

"Oh, for a spell. Honestly, it is much like your situation. Long before I was stationed here, I donated my services to other small churches in and around the city." She poured two steaming styrofoam cups, one with a dose of sweetener and brought them to the desk. Sai's tar black coffee was settled before him and she sank into the wingback chair. It squeaked. "I and a few others were called to make the move here to look after St. Agnes'."

"Do you like it?" An odd question, perhaps, to ask a nun, but Sai asked it anyway. He lifted the cup in her direction in another, this time wordless, thanks, not waiting at all before taking a sip. "Did Toby come here with you?" Meaning with her and the others called to inhabit the church. He leaned back in the chair, shifting a leg to cross an ankle over a knee.

"The Lord's work is not something to be liked or disliked, it is something that simply needs to be done." Her manicured brows twitched on her forehead. "I do enjoy my work and this church has provided more in the ways of stimulation than any other." She smiled, her lips wet and shiny with coffee as she looked at him. His admission of how he viewed the young Irish girl lit a little more of the flame in her hazel eyes. She took another dainty sip to disguise the quick fall of her smile.

"No, he was one of Matilda's..projects. Someone she thought she could reach, you might say. She has several of those and I honestly don't doubt His messages to her or what she believes she must do, but she had tried in vain with him for several of the early months."

"Good answer." He gave her a little smirk, fine lines etching carefully from the outer corners of his eyes. "Projects?" He said it more to echo her than anything else, not really expecting a further explaination. Not that he wouldn't be interested if she cared to offer one. "So what was his.. problem, that he needed the aid and counsel of those in His service?" Another healthy sip of coffee hid the diverse taste saying that term provided his tongue.

She had nearly forgotten why he had wanted to speak with her in the first place. His was a face that looked like it belonged in a painting or carved from some hard rock. His eyes too, such an unnaturally bright blue. The kind of man Helen would follow like a salivating puppy. The flash of irritation in her eyes fit well with the subject. "Matilda says she found him sitting half naked outside the church steps. Honestly, what some boys do," she clicked her tongue. "After some coaxing, she was finally able to get him inside the doors and agree to a job here. She's said that he was doing little to nothing with himself and appeared to have the look of a baby animal, lost and confused. It wasn't until after *that* time that the..problems..started to arise."

"What sort of problems?" He kept his eyes steady on her, unwavering. Not in an eerie or strange way. Oddly, it was almost comforting. Some could call it intoxicating. Most wouldn't have the will, or want, to look away. Was fine by him. He'd gotten use to having that effect after a few years.

"I hadn't come to the church until he was partially established." She set her coffee down, her hands folded along her stomach. Her nails were the color of fresh blood. "He delivered our parcels with Patrick, another young man here, and they were an efficient time. In fact, because they were so near in age, Patrick, he and Sera oftentimes spent a majority of their time together. ...Toby is a very introverted boy. He talks very little about himself or his past, or even what troubles he is facing, even to those that are closest to him. At least from what I have seen. Some of us are closer to him than others, but we've found that we all know about the same amount. From what I've seen, his interactions with Kingsley have not been suspicious, but you never know with him. He is happy go lucky one moment, threatening to hit you the next. Boys, honestly.

"He has a habit of disappearing for days on end without a word and causing all manner of ruckus here in the church. Beings have followed him and his she-demon girlfriend inside, that was before the Wards were in place. That interrogation Robyn spoke of? There had been a young armored woman questioning us all about his whereabouts. It was a trying time. Of course now I'm sure it was because of his demonic nature or the stories that have been circling around him. You know it is said that he murdered three people?" She looked at Sai, aghast. "That's why you've come asking about him, isn't it?"