As Tasìa strode down the street following trickles of blood lightly drizzled on the pavement, the feral crow, sitting on its spiked pole, warned her once more that she was being stalked.

This time it pointed to the garden supply shop to her right where there stood racks of azaleas streaming down.

A flash of movement between the racks headed in her direction. She tumbled low against the street instinctively moving with the beast above her that she could not see.

She felt nothing.

It was as if it really was just a flash of movement from a charge that missed her altogether.

Was it a feint? A minimum risk maneuver orchestrated by Fodor as he cared not to risk another beast to her shooting prowess.

Tasìa stood back up with a tight deep breath funneled out to loosen her muscles. She quivered her pupils in meditative mode, and scanned the street around her.

Nothing unusual was revealed.

Tasìa nodded to the crow. Why were nature's beasts so kind to her?

"Thank you, air rider."

With the Stealth 338 LAP rifle in hand, she called out to the American spook.

"Alisha, if you can hear me, get your back against a wall, and keep that sweet little Smith & Wesson .38 pistol gripped in your hand. If he comes at you, aim for each eye then dead center in its forehead."

A ghostly voice rode the wind and burst into her ears.

"You cannot save her. I would rather that you leave."

It was the voice of Fodor.

Ghostly.

The grizzly sight of Petro laying slumped in the garbage in the nearby alley came back to her. The words he said that she nearly forgot and suppressed, due to inebriation, truly resonated now.

"Fodor's woman he lived with back at the Flamenco Rosa tried to kill herself. They medevaced her out of there.

"No one knows what has become of her since. Likely, she lost her mind entirely.

"She complained of these whispers she would hear at night that made her question her sanity.

"When you exposed them as the Manifested they are, back at the bar, I saw this spectral glimmer in Fodor's eyes. Indeed, that's what we call them, the Manifested that have to be kept in minimized proximity to the staff at Ward Ocho. Spectres."

She had read about the Spectres from Demona's neoPalm, and was intrigued by the living matrix crystals in their eyes that made the Spectres easily commanded from a distance. Then she saw the tantalizing beauty of the living matrix for herself in Sylvia's eyes.

Who was Fodor's master?

While her eyes locked on the street, she switched the Stealth LAP to one hand with the stock pressed and balanced against her forearm.

Tasìa flipped on Val's PA.

This novel is published on a different platform. Support the original author by finding the official source.

"Demona!"

"Yes. I don't have an exact read on Alisha's location. She hasn't shown up on sensors placed three hundred yards from wear you stand so she is likely hiding nearby."

Tasìa blurted out, "Fodor is a spectre."

"Before you ask if I can intercede between him and his control, he operates on a different system than your acquaintance Sylvia that allows for greater autonomy.

"No constant feed is necessary. His instruction set is infused every sleep cycle."

Tasìa wanted to confirm what was growing obvious to her, it was Demona who interceded with the satellite, not Felicité, but the crow squawked to warn her once more.

Tasìa shot a round in the space the crow's eyes aligned, and at that spot a motion shimmered the light around it.

It backed up from its initial attempt at a charge.

She slid the PA back into her pocket, and grabbed the rifle in both hands to shoulder it properly.

"Come here kitty, kitty. It is time to die."

Once more, Tasìa induced a meditative state as she quivered her eyes to find the cat.

Indeed, it thought it could be slick, crouch low, spring up, bounce off a wall from behind and catch her from an angle she could not defend.

She had already assumed that it would consider her left side the most optimal point of attack as she was covered on the right by the post.

Tasìa shifted to her left to get centered, spun around and drilled three holes into its neck.

She pushed off in a hasty dodge but could not avoid the cat ramming into her completely. It bounced her off the curb and into the roadway. She rolled with trajectory to avoid cuts and bruises.

Tasìa stood back up. The beast was no longer phased, and lay with its neck twisted, nearly decapitated.

She fed another clip into the magazine.

"Whatcha waiting for, Fodor?"

She asked with more than a little bravado.

"How many beast can you control at one time," Tasìa continued. "Was that you in control of them at the fallen House of Javierra? I saw three. Is that your max?"

She waited several seconds before Fodor answered.

"Three is correct. I have no beef with you del Alma-Gris. You don't know what you are interceding in. I can tell by the actions I have observed from you that you are making many false assumptions.

"For your own good, leave now. I'm giving you a generous ammount of time to decide."

What did he mean by that? False assumptions?

"Not without Alisha."

Again she waited several seconds. This time, Fodor did not return an answer.

"Alisha," Tasìa yelled out. "Come to me. I am your only chance."

Alisha answered her back with a 38 round embedded in the pole beside her. Tasìa ducked down. The crow fluttered upward.

Tasìa caught her breath as she looked around, anxiously.

Finally, Alisha spoke.

"Leave, del Alma-Gris. Turn around and leave."

Alisha's voice came from the gardening shop building closest to the coffee shop. Tasìa put the pole between herself and that shop.

"If I have to knock you out and drag you back to the garage, I will," Tasìa answered.

Alisha's voice grew amplified, as if she were screaming at the top of her lungs. But her intonation cracked quite oddly as she spoke.

"You humiliated me, del Alma-Gris. You made me piss myself! You put me through Hell! What kind of monster does what you did! Huh? Answer me, damn it!"

Tasìa senses told her something was profoundly wrong. She could not pick up on the cause even with her analytic state focused on the shop.

Why is she blaming me for her pissing herself? Like she is extending out a list of grievances. What is her motivation for that?

"Alisha, I understand your hysteria. Yes, I pushed you but without the trust gained our mutual purpose is compromised. You are in too much danger for me to leave here without you. You cannot survive alone.

"I am not leaving without you."

"Very well then."

Alisha's voice came from behind her. Tasìa tensed up as she realized what had happened. The American spook recorded her voice on her own PA, and left it in the shop to play as she snuck behind Tasìa.

Hell, Tasìa realized Alisha even shot the pole to get the crow to move along and not give her any forewarning.

A swift cracking sound popped off.

Tasìa saw the blood come out of her chest before she felt the hot sting of the puncture wound in her back.

She stood to turn around to counter the spook, but all she could do was get up and dizzily fumble about.

Her arms grew numb and weak, and she dropped the rifle. Alisha walked with a casual shuffle passed her, and she didn't even glance back.

Tasìa felt like falling hard, so she let herself down easily. The crow fluttered in hover above, watching her.

Tasìa clinched her gut. It did not speak but she could feel it.

Finally, she called to it.

Modality?

- Yes?

Please do not let me die.

- How far are you willing to go to trust my intervention?

She hesitated. She knew it asked her to renounce her independence from it. Her lips grew cold. Even the usually heated vapor in her nose felt like breathing in a heavy dose of cold menthol.

She felt certain that the life force was fading from her. Her breath began to expire.

All the way.

- Very well then.

The world above her was all stars and a crow that spun slowly above her as she faded to nothing.