Prose Magica: The Ballad of the Seventeenth Part 19

"Mornin', Sunshine!"

"Good morning, Holly," Odette said, just barely getting the words out before a long yawn. "How are things?"

"Same old, same old. You?"

Odette tapped a few keys on her laptop as she settled into her seat at the makeshift desk inside of Sleepy Sue. The Vanus' chipper voice rang out through the computer's speakers, the two quickly establishing a morning routine over the past couple days. The Eversor took a sip of tea from her travel mug, shrugged, and began to mull through her emails.

"Can't complain," she replied. "Soft bed. Breakfast waiting for me when I get up. I could get used to this kind of life."

"Well aren't you lucky. I heard about the thing with Therese yesterday. Everything alright?"

Odette gave a half-hearted shrug, not looking the slightest bit bothered. "She said she'll think about it. Couldn't really ask for anything more," she said. "You finish that report on the- the thingy?"

"Blessed Lady? Sure did," Holly replied. "Thirty pages. Sent a copy to you, Foobs and Terry. You want the short version before you head in?"

"That'd be lovely. I missed having a secretary."

"Check yourself, shorty," the Vanus grumbled. "A few other Officios are big on the Blessed Lady thing, but it never really caught on here. Promises some kind of magical girl heaven, basically. Accept it's, y'know, like a normal religion. Or cult or whatever. Different groups, different beliefs, some are more violent than others."

"Well that's a new one. Think we'll have more problems like this?"

A burst of static came through the speakers as the Vanus gave an exasperated breath. "Most likely, but I have no idea what we're supposed to do. There's no playbook for this. Do we just let things run their course or do we try and nip it in the bud?"

"Not that it's my decision, but I'm gonna say that going full inquisition is a bad idea," Odette said. She clicked a few times, bringing up the Vanus' report. "How about those hooks Vance was using? There was definitely something wrong with them."

"I know. Not part of her kit, for sure," Holly replied. "I caught a few scattered mentions of mysterious golden weapons, but nothing concrete. Best I can say is we get them analyzed then lock 'em up until we know where they came from. Vance definitely knows something, so we'll probably get someone back in with her. Y'know. Once the walls start to close in on her a little more."

"'Someone'?"

"Hey, I thought you wanted a vacation. You're free to keep poking at her if you want."

Odette chuckled, tilting her head from side to side as she thought the idea over. "I'll get back to you on it. You want me to take a look at those hooks later?"

"If you wouldn't mind. I'd rather not pass them onto a hapless lab tech if something bad happens," Holly replied. "Just don't spend too much time around them. Look for any kind of markings and leave them. Maybe you'll find a clue or something."

"Understood. Any leads on that Daedalus character?"

"Jack shit. I've got a reference to someone going by 'the Architect' and that's it. I assume they're related, but we'll probably have to smack Vance around some more and track her down the old fashioned way."

"I always liked honest detective work."

"'Honest.'"

"Honest by magical girl standards," the Eversor laughed. "Remember who our neighbours are, now."

"Point. That'll be all then?" Holly asked.

"For now, yeah. Guess I'll talk to you in a little bit."

"Later, O," the Vanus said. There was a brief pause as she hesitated to close the call. "And just remember what I said. Don't spend too much time with those things. There's something funny going on here and I don't like it."

"I'll be fine, Holly," Odette groaned, rolling her eyes. "I've been doing this for seven years. I know how to play safe around bad hoodoo."

"Right," Holly muttered. "Right... Okay. Take care, O."

"Same to you," the little Eversor replied. "Stay out of trouble."

✱✱✱

"You're panicking too much, Therese."

"I'm not PANICKING, I just," he Warmaster paused, biting her lip, "I don't know what to do!"

The Warmaster of the Seventeenth paced behind her desk, her hands fidgeting and her eyes constantly glancing about. Dark circles hung under her eyes - a sign of the sleep that hadn't come to her that night. Tyler Argente leaned against a far wall, idly browsing the book shelves along the edges of the room.

The waters of Therese's mind hadn't been calm since the previous day. She hadn't counted on Odette being so eager; so hasty to right her wrongs. She should have known, though. It was a virtue that had been taught to every girl in the Officio since its earliest days. No one walked away from a mistake without trying to fix it, and Odette had taken the lessons of the first Warmaster to heart more than any other.

"Right, and that's what we call 'panicking'," Tyler replied. "You always get too emotional like this. You just need to sit down, take a few deep breaths and think about this rationally. Okay? I don't even see what the big deal is. She asked you to be Equerry, yeah? What's the problem there?"

"You don't UNDERSTAND, Ty. This- God, you don't get it!"

"Then fill me in, huh?"

"Its," Therese stopped, pinching her brow as she fell into her leather chair. A deep breath, count to ten, just like her therapist had said. "Alright, listen. Everything we're about to talk about doesn't leave this room, okay?"

Tyler glanced up at the security camera in the corner of the room - the security camera that had been promptly switched off as soon as she entered the room. "Okay. Just talk to me. I'm your friend. What's wrong?"

"I don't know what's wrong with me, alright?" The Warmaster inhaled through her nostrils and exhaled through her mouth, trying her best to calm down. "I used to think - when I first got this job - I was just filling in until Odette got better, y'know? I hold down the fort for a few months, she comes back, we go back to the good old days. I had no problem with that."

"And now?"

"And now, I don't know. When she was gone, it felt like she wasn't coming back," Therese explained. "It started feeling like this was for real, you know? Like I was really, seriously the Warmaster. I wasn't just some temp and I didn't have to make sure everything I did would be fine with her. I didn't have her shadow hovering over me. Then she came back and..."

"She came back and..?"

The Warmaster leaned over her desk, running a hand through her rusty, auburn hair. She didn't quite know how to phrase it. No - that wasn't true. She knew exactly how to phrase it, she simply didn't know how to make it sound like anything more than a frantic teenage girl's trifles.

"She came back and," Therese murmurred, feeling a pain in the back of her throat, "she came back and everything else came back with her. I don't want to spend my entire career in her shadow, Ty. I don't- I don't want to just be known as Odette's replacement. I got to feel what it was like - what it was REALLY like - to be Warmaster and now I just..."

Tyler shook her head and slowly stepped around the Warmaster's desk. She put her hands on Therese's shoulders, giving a tender squeeze as the Eversor's body quivered. "Then listen to me, because I want to be very clear," Tyler said as softly as she could, "turn her down."

"But-"

"Shut up and listen, Terry," her aide said, her grip on the Warmaster's shoulder tightening. "I'm not saying this because I'm her competition. I'm saying this because I'm your friend. I don't care if you don't pick me, just don't pick HER. She nearly ran this Officio into the ground then suddenly she begs forgiveness and that's all it takes? No. A few days of right don't make up for two years of wrong. You understand what I'm getting at?"

"I guess," Therese mumbled. "I don't know. I think I should talk about this with someone else. I-"

"Then do that," the Vindicare replied as she slowly let go of her superior. "Your inauguration is in two weeks. You don't HAVE TO pick someone by then. Hell, Brighton never had an Equerry at all. Just don't freak out and take your time to think about this. It's a big decision and you have enough to worry about as it is."

The Warmaster nodded and slowly sat up straight. She looked at her aide, a gentle, grateful smile finding its way to her face. "Thanks, Ty," she said, to which the Vindicare nodded in return. "I've got some things to finish up here, then... I think I'll take the rest of the day off and unwind a little."

"You sure could use it," said Tyler, as she found her way to the door. "I'll leave you to your work. Call me if you need anything, alright?"

"Will do," Therese answered. "And thanks... For always being here for me."

The Vindicare gave one last smile - tinged by a moment's hesitation - before she stepped out of the office. The Warmaster stretched, cracking her knuckles as she switched her computer monitor on. After a few clicks, emails by the dozen filled the screen, filled with every variety of report and request imaginable. Finances, squad activities, inter-Officio relations - she had grown used to it all by now. She had learned which ones could be skimmed for details and which warranted careful reading. Or at least, she was sure she knew the difference.

It was at the very top of the list that she found something that piqued her interest. Bright, bold red text reading 'URGENT' prefaced the title of a report compiled by Logises Holly and Molly Corbin. She had heard the words 'Blessed Lady' hear and there over the past few months, along with the occassional brochure slipped into her paperwork, but had never paid it much mind. And yet, what started as vague disinterest in the report slowly but surely turned to fascination as she read on.

✱✱✱

"Odette Brighton. Clearance level violet."

Purple doors hissed as they slid open on the far side of the bank of multi-coloured elevators. Odette gave the security camera a slight nod as she stepped in, then poked one of the indigo buttons inside. The doors klunked before the lift shuddered as it began its descent.

The former Warmaster had exactly one minute and thirty-nine seconds worth of alone time in the elevator as it dropped. There wasn't exactly a whole lot to think about, all told. She was curious about the golden hooks, worried about the sudden entrance of a new faction from stage left, but... that was someone else's problem now. She wasn't Warmaster anymore. Her assignment was almost over and - had she felt less obligation to the Officio - she could forget all about it after turning her report in. Knowing that the option was there gave her a certain feeling of freedom that she hadn't paid attention to before.

Her thoughts were cut off as the elevator door rumbled open, revealing yet another sterile white hallway, this time with perfectly symmetrical rows of thick metal doors on either side. Not a single soul was present in the hall as the Eversor stepped out. The hall was monitored by a single security camera at the far end of the hall, along with all manner of invisible sensors that Odette had memorized. With the press of a button, the twin Vanus could flood the entire hallway with lake water, drowning anyone unfortunate enough to have tried to break into the Seventeenth's maximum security vaults, as rare as that was.

"They're in vault two," the Vanus said over the PA. "You don't come out in ten minutes, I'm sending someone in to get you. Capisce?"

"Christ, Holly," Odette replied as she punched her security code into the second door's keypad. "What are you so afraid of?"

"You read the report."

The one-eyed girl paused to look at the security camera, a stern look flattening her brow. "I'll see you in ten."

Tumblers clunked and klanked as the heavy steel door unlocked. After a moment, the gears went silent and the door squealled open. Immediately, Odette was hit by an odour that was growing uncomfortably familiar. Sickly sweet decadence. Flowers at a funeral.

The tiny Eversor coughed and quietly swore to herself, involuntarily taking a couple steps back. She forced herself to enter the room, the door shutting itself after her. Not a single camera or speaker decorated the interior of the perfectly cubical vault, only a single stainless steel table bolted to the floor in the centre of the room. A musty dufflebag sat on the table - no doubt the closest thing available after the hooks had been pried from Odette's hands.

Odette unzipped it slowly, cautiously peering into the bag. The hooks glinted as she folded the bag down around them, looking almost as if they had never been used.

"They're calling."

The Eversor looked them over with her one eye, not having worked up the nerve to actually touch them. There were two hooks, each one as long as her forearm and connected by a heavy chain. Her eye itched. She was astounded at just how clean they were, both looking dazzling and luxurious - gaudy, even.

"They want you."

Odette reached out, her pale hands shaking. The chain jangled as she picked up the first hook. She tested its weight, tossing it lightly in her hand. It felt strangely comfortable to hold. The weight was perfect - heavy enough to do serious damage when thrown, but light enough to make throwing easy. She could hear her heart beating like a wardrum in her ears.

"You want them."

Odette set the hook down, then ran the chain through her hands. She noticed, as she did, that each link of the chain was embossed with an XII. The percussion in her ears was speeding up. She could hear a distant crackling, popping sound, but paid it no mind. Something felt wrong about the hooks, something dark and predatory waiting just beneath the surface.

"Take them."

She forced herself to tear her eye away from the hooks, suddenly bringing her nose-to-nose with a horribly familiar figure. Ice-flecked white hair. Pale, blotchy blue-tinged skin. Eyes of the purest cobalt blue she had ever seen. Claws of ice and frozen blood.

Odette froze, staring herself in the face. She suddenly realized where the crackling sound had come from: Rime coated every surface of the room.

"Oh," the ghost gasped, feigning surprise, "you finally noticed."

The figure stepped around the table, Odette's one eye still locked on her as she went.

"Take them," it whispered. "After all you've been through... You've earned them."

Odette felt a sickening sensation in the pit of her stomach. Her hand smacked down on the table as she tried to keep herself upright. The room was spinning and the pounding in her ears was deafening.

"How many of your friends have died?" The figure asked. "How long can you keep this up? Pretending that nothing is wrong. That you're perfectly fine." A single icy talon found its way under Odette's chin. "You're broken, Odette Brighton. You've been broken for a long time. Your own incubator tried to have you put down like a rabid dog..."

The former Warmaster slapped the frozen claw away. Mustering every ounce of strength she had left, she shoved the dufflebag off the table, and the hooks with it. Everything seemed to meld together after that.

Her demon vanished as the door to the vault screeched as it was pulled open. Red light filtered in from the hallway. When Fredrica Volk found her old mentor, she was sitting on the ground, eye wide in shock.

The Rank Leader called her name. "Odette," she screamed, "ODETTE." She snapped her fingers in front of the one-eyed girls face, then slapped her when she recieved no response.

Odette blinked as she slowly came to her senses. She looked at the boyish, black-haired Eversor as if she'd seen a ghost. "Freddy," she muttered, her eye glancing around wildly. "What happened? Has... Has it been ten minutes?"

Fredrica blinked, shaking her head in disbelief. "Odette," she said, "you've been in here for half an hour. Holly saw ice coming through the door and called me."

The smaller Eversor looked down for a moment, then back at the Rank Leader. "I need to see Fubey."

✱✱✱

"So in conclusion: We go after Daedalus, and you bury hooks in concrete and dump them in the fucking lake."

The incubator of the Seventeenth sat atop his desk, staring at Odette with his constantly expressionless face. The Eversor had delivered her report, then set about explaining her encounter with the golden hooks - leaving out the part about the frozen ghost that had accompanied her. The incubator - to his credit - had sat quietly through the entire account, only speaking up to ask short, simple questions. Fubey nodded slowly as she finished speaking, taking a moment to process everything.

"I see," he said. "You are certain that there is no value in keeping them?"

"One hundred percent."

He nodded again, his gaze shifting as he thought. "Very well. I will make arrangements for their disposal. In the mean time, Miss Corbin has informed me that you wish to take some time off. Is this so?"

"I- Yeah," she replied, feeling a twinge of guilt. "Just a week, maybe two. I don't know. I need some time to get things sorted out."

"You have my permission, then," Fubey stated. "No longer than a month, but do take your time, if you feel it necessary. You are a valuable asset to this Officio, Odette. Your physical and mental health is important. I look forward to seeing you, ah, 'back in action', as they say."

"Thanks, Fooby," the Eversor smiled, patting his head. "We done here?"

The incubator hesitated for moment, before nodding again. "I believe so. You are dismissed."

Odette turned to leave, but stopped as a thought ran across her mind. She couldn't help but remember what the ghost in her nightmares had said. The form she had found in Fennel's apartment. She didn't want to mention it, but it wasn't something that could be left alone. Her hand clenched into a fist as she turned back around.

"Was there something else?" The incubator asked, his head cocking to the side."

Every part of her screamed at her to drop it and leave, but her mind was already set. "Fubey," she started, gulping, "what - exactly - is the Ymir Protocol?"