Into the Aether_Part One(20)

“Power? You want to talk about true power? My god destroyed all but a smattering of you filth in a single stroke,” he said, agitation now creeping into his tone. August was sure he was directly behind her now. “Here’s the thing about power,” he continued in a whisper. “It can be so easily taken.”

A mental image of him hovering his hands just above her arms, careful not to touch her, brought a wave of nausea rolling over her.

“Your powerful god, where is he now? Saveio is imprisoned.” August braced herself.

“You dare use his name!?” the voice yelled.

August smirked. In one quick movement, she squatted down and grabbed his right arm. Using it as a lever, she pulled and pivoted him across her back, slamming him into the ground. The Jotunn rapidly lifted his knees to his chest and thrust them into the air, quickly getting back up to face her.

“That was stupid, girl,” he said.

The feeling of emptiness was replaced by his thoughts. She could hear the thoughts of the people around her again. He has lost his concentration. “Phillip!” she called out telepathically.

“Yes, Matriarch? The line-up is a bit long. Maybe ten more—”

“Come, now!”

She heard the sound of something metallic sliding out of cloth. She assumed it was a knife from the Jotunn’s jacket. Remove threat, disable, then interrogate, she reminded herself. The Jotunn ran at her, swinging the metallic object, the sound betraying its location. August, shifting her weight, sidestepped the Jotunn and outstretched her hand. She grabbed onto his wrist and pulled it up hard behind him, causing an audible crack. She jumped upward, and on her descent, struck her elbow at the base of his neck, hitting a nerve cluster. She reached for the other arm, wrapping hers around it and gripping tightly, then jumped with her legs extending in front of her. As she landed, she felt his arm being liberated from its socket. The Jotunn let out a loud cry as he fell to his knees. Threat removed.

She swung her hand and struck him in his gut, and his breath issued from his mouth in a large wheeze. The Jotunn collapsed face-first on the gravel of the roof. She swung around and wrapped her arms and legs around his legs, then pulled, snapping the ligaments in his knee joints. The Jotunn wept openly.

Disabled. Now interrogate.

August stood up and brushed herself off. She took several deep breaths, listening to a car engine growing louder. Eventually, tires squealed in front of the apartment building. She stood there, hands on hips, listening to Phillip run up the fire escape as the Jotunn sobbed.

“Matriarch!” Phillip called. “Are you—” He stopped mid-sentence. She looked through his eyes. He was looking from her to the Jotunn and back to her again.

“I see why you are the Matriarch!” he said.

“I had a good teacher,” she replied.

The Jotunn was wearing a heavy woolen coat, dark pants, and brown boots. He looked completely human. August guessed that even to Phillip, he would not have seemed out of place. She bent down and grabbed the Jotunn by his coat collar, then dragged him toward the retaining wall that lined the edge of the rooftop and leaned him against it. All the while, she recounted the events of the past several minutes to Phillip, who stood there stupidly.

“Why are you here?” August asked the Jotunn, not quite yelling. She studied his red, blotchy face through her borrowed vision. Then it shifted to his gnarled, dark green Jotunn features.

The Jotunn collected himself, then cursed her. August cocked her head slightly, unsurprised by his response. She reached for his dislocated shoulder and squeezed. “What was your mission?” She released his shoulder. His chest started moving up and down; he was laughing. She squeezed again with much more force. The laughing quickly subsided.

“All I needed to do was distract you and keep you away from Alcott.”

As he spoke, a brilliant burst of blue light shot between August and Phillip. It struck the Jotunn and enveloped him completely. The youngling shielded his eyes from the light, and when he looked back, he saw a smoldering pile of gore. They both looked back at the place the shot had come from. A single figure from another rooftop above quickly moved away from the ledge.

“We have to get him!” Phillip said.

“No. We must get back to Aaron.”

“That thing is getting away!”

“Do not question me, youngling.”

Phillip hung his head. Something caught his eye in the pile of Jotunn remains: shards of what looked like a red crystal. He was about to comment on it when an alarmed feeling struck them both. As if choreographed, both August and Phillip looked toward the hotel.

“Aaron...” Phillip stated.

Phillip grabbed August’s red suitcase and they both darted to the rooftop door, and down the stairwell. As they ran through the lobby and onto the street, Phillip noted that there were a few people walking on the sidewalks now.

“Stay with the car. I will retrieve Alcott,” said August.

“Matriarch, who killed him?”

August opened the door to the Loyalist Hotel, looking behind her in Phillip’s direction. What could she say? She decided on the truth. “I do not know,” she replied, and hurried inside. But I do not like the possibilities.





Six





Aaron scrambled to his feet, unsure of what to do next. He continued fastening the buttons of his shirt while staring at August. She stood silently, her gaze slightly averted. She had changed clothes from the plane, and her hair was messy and windswept, but she still wore her trim sunglasses.