30
Jo-Mel
finally manages to break through to Monique as they wander closer and
closer to the heart of the inner city. The distant sound of
approaching sirens helping to rouse her. They quickly get off of the
streets, ducking down into the underground labyrinth utilized by the
unwanted, the unseen souls that inhabit most places such as this.
With the
abundance of abandoned and
neglected properties scattered throughout Decatur's poverty stricken
neighborhoods, it was easy enough to find shelter.
Finally
able to speak freely, Jo-Mel demands, “What is happening, here,
Monique Felani? I have no intention of engaging with these people.
It would not end well for any of us.”
“I
don't know,” Monique replies. “Something here, this place,
something drew me here. Can't you feel it?”
“No.
Nothing like what you speak of, but there is an evil here. This is
your Earth, though, America, no doubt. The shitani thrive,” she
says.
“But
when last we met, Monique, your thoughts were scrambled. You didn't
know me. Your memories had been erased before the Queen Mother sent
you away. What did the demon do to you? How do you now know
yourself?” Jo-Mel asks.
Looking
at her hands, Monique thinks about taking Pickle-Me-Jack's head, she
had been lost in a sort of fugue, acting on pure instinct.
Just as
she had been back in Bealz's bedroom.
Monique
had not taken the time to think about Ms. Penny. Maybe purposefully.
She had been in a frenzy to get Bealz out of danger, had lost
herself to all else.
And now,
Ms. Penny, the closest thing to a mother that she'd had growing up,
was dead. And Monique had killed her.
She can
still see her face, the tortured look of surprise as the heat of
Monique's fires bloomed, erupted forth and struck her in the chest.
Tears
sting Monique's eyes.
“I
don't know why we're here,” she says. “I don't know what I'm
doing.”
Jo-Mel,
looks on, her concerns only increasing. Searching for a ley-line to
tap into, she is surprised to find that there are none shifted
beneath this city. Unusual for such a large collection of humanity.
Utilizing a more tedious, more taxing working, something most similar
to an esoteric form of mathematical calculation, Jo-Mel summons The
Breaker, her shield, concealing and protecting them.
She
needed to know what she was dealing with before things got out of
hand. This woman was dangerous. Damaged. She was a simmering fount
of unfocused, nearly limitless power. Jo-Mel wondered if Askauri
realized himself just what she was capable of. How dangerous she
truly was.
Turning
to her, she gestures for Monique to join her, cross-legged, on the
floor.
“Come,”
she says. “Let's talk.”
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