An hour had passed, and pieces had started to fall into motion. She had passed the baton to the authorities, or at least the only ones she could trust. Her usual methodology was crumbling as she waited for the telephone to ring. A confession would hopefully be forced from the rifle manufacturer’s manager, and the legal groundwork for a raid would be cemented.

State secrets were compromised, and expatriates were unaccounted for, possibly in danger. It wouldn’t take long for a warrant to be organised, or at least that was what she hoped for.

She conceded to her nerves and again stuck her fingers in the dial, answering the operator to connect her to a small village in western Sidos. The ringtone looped and looped, and Evalyn grew agitated. She kept the phone pressed against her ear as she coiled the wire around her finger. She looked over at Iris, still sinking into the armchair and managed to smile softly.

“Hello, Maxwell speaking?” a gruff voice said through what Evalyn knew to be a thick beard. The husky tone crackling through calmed her down; she needed to hear something familiar.

“Hi, Dad,” she said timidly, never getting used to the title he had so insisted on her using. She remembered the first time she had tried she had stuttered so severely, Elliot had not let her live it down for an entire month.

“Evalyn? How are you? Why didn’t you come?”

“It’s been a bit busy recently, in and out of work. I promise I’ll make the visit next time. Is Elliot there?”

“Sure he is. He’s helping Jessica with the weeds right now, Elliot! …Evalyn’s on the phone!” he shouted. Evalyn waited for a few silent moments. She found Iris staring at the teacup in her lap, fixated on the liquid with the eyes of a corpse. Eventually the phone change hands, and his unmistakable voice crackled over the speaker.

“Evalyn? Everything all right?”

“I hope so. The case blew up a fair bit, and I don’t think it’s something Iris can handle,” she admitted.

“Do you need me to come back?”

“What? No. You just got there. We’re staying at my old home right now, so we’ll be safe until Marie or someone can come to pick her up. Just…”

“Just what?”

Evalyn paused, unable to continue talking. It was a familiar conversation, one that she had repeated over and over again. One that made her wish she never had to leave Elliot’s side.

“I’m sorry. I don’t know from what point they’ve been watching us or how far their reach is. Are you armed?”

“Hunting rifles and shotguns. The entire village has got them.”

“Keep them handy. Just in case. I’ll let you know when we’re in the clear.”

“Okay. I trust you.”

“…I love you.”

With everything that needed saying being said, Evalyn put the phone down gently.

“Elliot?” Iris asked.

“Yeah…he’ll be okay.”

Evalyn sank into a seat, giving a quick glance at Oswald, who stood at attention, refusing to leave his master’s side.

“Thank you, Oswald.”

“Think nothing of it. This is your home.”

“No, it’s not. It’s a hotel, isn’t it?”

Oswald smiled fondly at his mistress, acknowledging the once adorable face’s newfound maturity.

“The best in the business.”

Evalyn chuckled at the strangeness of it all. Seldom returning to a place for years at a time skewed one’s memory of it. For some reason, the place she had so desperately rejected was now somewhat welcoming.

However, the brief respite was just that. Brief.

Iris’s tired haze was broken by an oncoming ringtone. Bleary-eyed, she saw Evalyn pick up the receiver and press it against her ear.

“Chestral manner hotel services, how can we help you?” Evalyn answered. The silence persisted, and Evalyn’s lax posture froze over into glacier. Rigidly but carefully, she looked at Oswald and silently signalled. Like telepathy, Oswald clapped his hands.

“All staff, you may take your breaks now. Everyone to your rooms immediately,” he shouted, sprinting up the stairs as fast as could still be considered ‘gentlemanly’.

“Yeah…I’m still listening,” Evalyn said. She beckoned for Iris's attention and mouthed the words ‘follow him’ before turning away. But Iris couldn’t; something had once again caught her eye.

As Iris slowly approached the front window, the thing behind the thin white curtain became clearer. In front of her stretched an elaborate array of trim hedges, but one thing amongst them stuck out. A figure in a grey coat, whom Evalyn had once referred to as a police officer.

The man talking into Evalyn’s ear had only named himself and his cause. Jamie, S.H.I.A.

“We know you’re at Chestrel Manor. This is our city, and we have eyes all over it.”

“I asked what business you have with our establishment.”

“There’s no point hiding, Pergol Harlep. We don’t know who you are, but any officer dealing with H.O.A. in the metro police wouldn’t be as bold as you’re being. I don’t know what line of investigation you’re on, if you’re a journalist or some P.I., but I’ll spare you the trouble. There is nothing down the road you’re going. And if I’m not clear enough for you, we can arrange it to be.”

“How’s that?”

“We’ll give you a warning that you will take seriously.”

The final thing that Iris saw before her vision cut out was a gun barrel. Even from this distance, it was clear what it was. The unmistakable dull glint, the silver colour. Her last thought was ironically about how right Evalyn was, that guns were utterly unfair.

If you come across this story on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it.

That was a lie. The last thought was cut short. The door at the end of her mind’s hallway had asked her something as imminent death approached, and she had answered.

Do you want help?

The first thing that Evalyn saw before her mind went blank was a small body hitting the carpet. Its head led the movement, where a small purple hole had appeared on its forehead. The second thing that she saw was a man in the garden. A grey coat, the same coat she had seen every police officer wearing—the man on the rooftop, the two in the archive. The final thing she saw was the man putting away a handgun, silencer first back into his coat.

When Evalyn would call upon her power, she would imagine a thing, an object, and it would form for her. Yet when her logical mind died, and what was left was a steaming vat of primal instinct, she would only ever think of a single directive.

Come here.

And by the golden light emanating from her body, her wish would be granted.

A deathly vine of thorns shot out from underneath her sleeve, completely shattering the broken glass window. It latched onto the man’s coat, the thorns digging deep into his flesh and staining the grey with a dark, deep red.

She watched as the man’s image grew in size until his body was railed against the shards of glass, smearing him in cuts and blood. The instant Evalyn’s hand touched the man’s throat, it and her entire left arm were armoured. Golden plates curved from the tips of her fingers to her shoulder, each finger guard moving by itself with only one intent. Crush.

“I got your message,” she softly whispered into the phone, “your friend looks like he got the memo as well.”

“What—”

“So, I will tell you one thing, Jamie, lest the message slips over your head. I will find every single one of you, every single person that stinks like you, and I will tear them, limb from limb, in front of everyone that loves them. I have burnt down cities before and will do it again.”

“The fuck do you—”

“Shh…I think your friend wants to speak to you,” Evalyn’s said in a deathly cold hiss. She passed the receiver to the man in her vice. With every ounce of strength, he struggled against the plates of magic that had his throat like a child squeezing clay.

“Help…me…”

Iris’s hand moved to her forehead before her conscience had even fully returned to her. It passed over her brow, which wrinkled healthily at the soft touch of her fingers. No blood, no bone, no brain. She made absolutely sure by poking it, checking for any bullet-sized holes. But thankfully, she couldn’t find any.

Iris slowly sat up, and her fringe softly fell forward, obscuring her vision. Brushing them aside and over her ear, she found her surroundings to be equally as sumptuous as the grand hall of her last memory. It was probably in the same building. She interpreted the sparsely lit ceiling through the light of the dull silver shine streaming from the curtained windows, a colour matching her hair—the moon.

The bed was much larger than the last one she had slept in, and its softness threatened to consume her, as did the hefty covers. The feeling of them against her skin brought with it a wave of unprecedented comfort she could not quantify. Like a quagmire, it was soft, warm, and threatened to never let her go.

The sensation of being able to feel something at all gripped her. The ability to still feel, draw breath, and notice the paintings’ crookedness was something she could no longer take for granted. They had all taken on new meanings, new weight. Her left hand gripped the covers, and her right gripped another hand. She followed the feeling and found Evalyn at the end of it, sleeping uneasily beside her bed.

Iris felt her throat grow hot, and she gulped down whatever was exciting her in such a way. Her light squeeze roused Evalyn, who shifted like a dormant giant and silently found Iris’s eyes. Her own eyes were weary, betraying her exhaustion. Her hair that was tightly tied before was now lazily strewn across her scalp, the hair tie barely holding anything together.

Without warning, she softly dived into Iris’s abdomen, wrapping her large arms around her small flank.

“Are you alive?”

“Mhm…”

“Do you remember me?”

“…Evalyn.”

Iris felt Evalyn’s smile through the thin gown someone had changed her into.

“The cavalry came. This place is safe now until I send you home, and Elly will be waiting,” she said, pulling her face away but not her hands.

“I’m sorry. If it weren’t for you, you’d be dead. Before the next time I take you out on even a mild case, I’m going to make sure you’re trained. So I’m…I—”

The glassy eyes of last night were now overflowing, and Iris almost felt like returning the gesture if she could learn how. She flung her arms around Evalyn’s neck and squeezed herself as closely as she could manage to her guardian. That moment was the best moment Iris had ever felt in her short recollection of life.

“Police authorities have warned of continued violence as the paramilitary terrorist organisation S.H.I.A. continues its attacks that left six federal officers and two army officers dead, and several citizens in critical condition after a car bombing last Sunday. Although the alleged political wing of the organisation has denied responsibility, it has faced major backlash by both its opposition figures and some members of the public.”

Evalyn massaged the dial on the radio until the news reporter’s voice was replaced by the soft swellings of an orchestral piece being played somewhere in the city at that very moment. There were two worlds, one chaotic and another tranquil in the same realm of grey, just a few turns of the dial apart.

“I saw that wreckage the other day while you and Elliot were eating breakfast, and I had gone for a walk. I could’ve sworn that car was still smoking. It was that bad.”

“Are they bad?”

“Who?”

“The people in the grey coats.”

“Oh,” Evalyn thought. “Depends on who you ask, I guess. To people sick of war, they’re a threat, and to those who had their villages destroyed by Spirits, I guess they’re heroes.”

Iris struggled with the answer that wasn’t black nor white, but to her, what felt like awkward shades of grey, refusing to judge even when lives were at risk. It didn’t fit her image of Evalyn at all. Evalyn was supposed to help people.

“What do you…think?”

“Like I said, I can’t blame them. But I once bet with my life to stop the war they’re trying to restart, and I’ll be the first person to get in their way if it comes to it.”

“But what do you think?”

“Hm…that they’re the enemy. They’ll do whatever they can to achieve what they want, so I’ll do the same. In that respect, we’re similar.”

“No, you’re not.”

Iris’s assertion made Evalyn chuckle softly, the moonlight blessing her skin with a sombre, ethereal silver.

“You’d be surprised. Well, it still goes that I’ll never forgive them for what they did to you.”

A telephone ring from the dresser Evalyn sat beside caught her attention. She picked up the receiver and answered, idly coiling the cord around her finger. Evalyn made the face she would make whenever Elvera called her on the telephone—a face of furrowed brows and stiff lips.

“Yeah, she’s awake. No damage. The Aetherologist that came by said it might be some self-defence mechanism. Her flesh liquidated along the bullet’s trajectory. Now it’s back to normal…No, I don’t think she can control it…we don’t know.”

Iris barely remembered the final moments of that scene. They were hazy at best and as indistinct as the drone of the rain at worst. All she remembered was that flash of dull colour, the hallway.

It had talked to her. Had it? Had she asked it to save her?

“Did you have him roughed up at all? …I thought so. He seemed like a sympathiser until, well, until the moment I drew a gun on him. So? …before sunrise,”

Evalyn glanced at her watch, angling her wrist so the clock face would find the moonlight.

“It’s only half an hour by taxi to get there; I’ll be able to make it. I know, I didn’t think going solo was an option; the feds are too invested in this not to take part. But if it starts to get hairy, I won’t hesitate…. No, I don’t care. It’s stupid they’re not just sending me instead….”

Evalyn nodded silently for a few more seconds before speaking for a final time.

“That’s good, I guess. I think I was about to snap his neck for a second. No, I guess not. Yeah…bye.”

Evalyn gently took the phone away from her ear and froze, paralysed before she could perform her next movement. She sat there, gripping the receiver as the static drone from it almost mirrored her mind at that moment. Iris watched her as she always did.

“They’re putting him away for a long time, the man that shot at you. I’m glad I didn’t kill him in retrospect.”

Iris caught on to whom she was talking about. The man in the grey coat who had shot her. She hadn’t known what happened but could infer roughly.

“Why didn’t you?” Iris asked timidly, forever confused by Evalyn’s line of reasoning.

“Because that would make me a murderer. I don’t want to live as a criminal.”

“Do you ever kill?”

“Sometimes.”

“…isn’t that bad?”

“…Yeah…I guess it is. But orders are orders, and I’ll be in trouble if I don’t follow them. I don’t want to live as a criminal.”

Evalyn chuckled faintly. A pained smile tinted sombre shades of silver.

“It’s hypocritical, isn’t it?”