Moyra’s Tale, Part 8

Rachel can’t believe the sight she sees before her when she reaches the door to Moyra’s apartment. When her friend didn’t show up to work, she volunteered to go see if she was okay. Besides that, she wanted to apologize for the way things went at their talk yesterday, but she can’t help but wonder if it’s already too late for that. The door is no longer there, except as pieces on the floor. Rachel steps through the doorway carefully, her pulse racing. “Moyra?”

Her voice waivers as she calls out, afraid of the possible situations she may be walking in on. She surveys the room as she enters. Moyra’s purse and keys are on the coffee table, beside an old book. She shakes her head at the title. Her friend went further than she thought with this delusion of magic, if the book’s title was anything to go by. She pushes the thought aside as she sees that the throw blanket that’s normally on the back of the couch rests on the floor, as if dropped or dragged there. Another step into the room, and she sees that the bedroom door met with the same fate as the front door.

“Who would do this?” she whispers. Her stomach tightens in a knot, and she takes a deep breath before forging ahead into the bedroom. Everything is in place, except for the window, which is open with no screen and the drapes pushed out. They slowly rise and fall with the air movement outside. Rachel jumps as her phone rings and drags her out of her incredulous thoughts. She glances at the caller ID. Work. She answers it with a statement.

“She’s not here. You wouldn’t believe this, but…the door was broken in.”

*****

Brother Brendan shakes his head angrily as he leaves his lodgings. The Dark Order is joining the search; he sensed that during his meditations last night, and their essence was forceful enough that he wasn’t able to glean any other information. He has the impression that they’re close to The Destroyer, so it stands to reason that if he can find and follow them—discreetly, of course—that he can still find their target first.

He opts for traveling on foot rather than take one of the public modes of transportation. He wants to keep in touch with the air so he can reach his senses out, even if it does mean moving a bit slower. He might lose the trail altogether if he were to take one of those machines. No way to change direction quickly if he needs to.

His senses stretch out as far as he can make them go as he walks the streets, following the feelings and impressions he receives. It takes him the better part of the morning before he reaches the center of the dark energy he feels crackling in the air. An apartment complex. It must be The Destroyer’s home. He makes a face as that thought crosses his mind; he never considered to look for a traditional dwelling for the wretch that would bring an end to the world.

Unexpected commotion makes him pull up short before he walks around the corner. Something isn’t right. Leaning against the brick wall, Brendan listens to the conversation going on just a few feet away.

“What time was that?” a male voice asks.

“A-about 10:30. We were worried when Moyra didn’t come to work.” A female voice: distressed, anxious. Scared.

Brendan makes a mental note. Moyra must be the name of the raven-haired woman he’s seeking. He takes a deep breath, closes his eyes and listens, both to the conversation between the people not fifteen feet away and to the readings he picks up from the magic still crackling in the air. As the police interview comes to an end, he slips away. He’s at least half a day behind, probably more, with The Dark Order between him and his goal.

*****

Morya looks back over her shoulder for what seems to be the hundredth time since she escaped from her apartment. Too scared to stop, she stayed on the move all night. Other than forgetting her keys, she realized early after beginning her flight that she had no phone, no money, no ID. Just the clothes on her back and the forces that her birth mother insist are in her.

She finally stops in one of the city’s parks, drinks long from the water fountain before finding a seat under a tree. Her feet are throbbing and she feels like she’s going to collapse if she goes on much longer. She leans her head back and closes her eyes, wondering if she can reach out to her mother the same way that she’s been contacted. It doesn’t hurt to try, she decides.

Her mind clears, and she envisions herself in the same nothingness in which they spoke the last two times. She’s not sure if she called out, but the other woman is soon before her, folding her in a warm embrace. “Moyra! Oh my dear girl! Where are you?”

“A park, I’m not sure which one. I’ve been walking for hours so I don’t know exactly where…Who were they? Last night that broke into my apartment?”

“I don’t know. There are a few different possibilities, but none of them are good.” She squeezes Moyra’s hands. “Be strong, my child. You can do this. And know this, your father and I are on our way to you. You’re not alone in this.”

An image appears in Moyra’s mind, a location she’s never seen but somehow instinctually knows how to find it. “What’s this?”

“A haven. We’ll meet you there, and then we can truly begin your training, both in the Light and the Dark. Only by uniting both halves of yourself will you be able to conquer these that wish you harm. Now hurry! You haven’t much time!”

Advertisements

One thought on “Moyra’s Tale, Part 8

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s