Confession and Revelation

A chill wind, the last vestige of a winter breeze, swirled down the road, rustling the newspapers that lay scattered throughout the nearby alleyway. A bottle fell over with a tinkle of glass on the tarmac.

In the distance there was a car horn, sharp and loud, then fading toward nothing. The shrill sound of sirens echoed faintly up the streets of the concrete jungle. Alexandria's eye shifted slightly, still keeping the three in front of her within her vision but glancing at the collapsed concrete and faux brick ruin.

The ability that Rashid demonstrated to redirect force was unique, for all that she had encountered similar redirective powers before. Assault, formerly Madcap, for one, of the East-North-East PRT was able to absorb and expel kinetic energy.

Rashid however, had been able to both redirect the energy of her warning strike and also bleed the heat away, dissipating both at the same time all through the use of a plane of force. She hadn't considered it then, but it was quite impressive. Alexandria also inwardly chastised herself for not being prepared for being rebuffed. Her intention was never to land the blow, merely a feinting strike to rattle him, set him off balance, and most importantly persuade him to stop spilling private secrets of hers.

She also wasn't unused to causing immense collateral damage, but usually, it was controlled by her, rather than redirected in a way she hadn't anticipated. The nearby building's foundations were probably completely wrecked and the whole block would need to be demolished if the spiderwebbed asphalt was any indication. Alexandria didn't feel overly remorseful, destruction was a regular facet of her life and just something she had to learn from.

More interesting had been the careful non-reaction exhibited by Rashid and Ancient Mai. Both were startled and worried but did an admirable job occluding their actual feelings. Their micro-expressions had been relatively little match for her sheer focus and ability to discern the nuances of every expression. Rashid had been confident, more so than she would have expected, almost as if he had prepared for her strike.

Yet there had also been relief when he had successfully parried the blow. Alexandria felt she could surmise that he had some kind of precognition or was just supernaturally good at reading her, which she didn't think was likely. A benefit of her statuesque physiology meant that she needed to make an active deliberate effort to show any micro-expression except the most heartfelt.

Ancient Mai was more visibly startled, insofar as she certainly did not expect violence to erupt. Her reaction was fast, bordering on the supernatural herself but still fundamentally among human norms, even taking into account her evidentially advanced age. She had the face of a stateswoman. The demeanor of a career solon, implacable unless you had quick eyes to catalog the briefest flits of micro-expressions. Alexandria had such an eye. Ancient Mai was rattled but hid it better than anyone Alexandria had ever seen.

The weak link of the three was Ancient Mai's granddaughter. Her eyes had dilated when she realized what happened, and Alexandria had seen her pulse visibility jump in the side of her neck. Had seen the aborted movement of her lips and throat as she mouthed reassurances to herself, words, perhaps even spells, Alexandria posited with amused reflection. The pallor of her face, white with stress and stark terror. She had neither the statecraft experience of her elder nor the rigid control and advantage of second sight.

All valuable information. More puzzle pieces to the ever-growing tapestry that helped Alexandria slide the facets of the world into her existing paradigms. It also revealed subtle facts about the enemies the white council faced. Enemies where displaying surprise was detrimental. Where loss of face was almost as bad as actual defeat. Yet, the White Council was allowing a younger member, certainly less-skilled, to treat with her.

It was callously obvious what they intended the younger woman to serve as, but Alexandria couldn't find fault with their purpose precisely. She had made similar decisions and gestures during her long tenure as chief director and even as Alexandria, greatest heroine of them all.

In the present moment, Rashid made a sharp gesture, barely moving more than his black-gloved hand, in a direction away from all three. Away from Alexandria, Ancient Mai, and Ancient Mai's granddaughter. The world slid apart, a place of other-space intruding. The crisp straight lines and abrupt interruption were at once familiar and unfamiliar to Alexandria.

It looked so painfully like one of Doormaker's doors that for an instant she almost believed that Cauldron had come to reclaim her. That she could stand against the enemies that plagued Earth Bet once more. The dimensions were off.

When Doormaker opened a portal in a clear space, which the abandoned street was, each portal was perfectly uniform. An exact copy of other portals made in open areas. The only time the size of the portal diverged was with directed input from a Cauldron member. The edges were razor-thin, almost monomolecular on Doormaker's portals, but they were there. This portal was seamless, Alexandria could not even perceive an edge, just an abrupt transition in another dimensional plane.

"We are needed elsewhere, time already draws short," Rashid offered as explanation, dark brown eye drifting toward her eye, but never actually meeting her gaze.

Ancient Mai frowned, in turn, casting a quick glance at her granddaughter who looked like she was going to faint. She did not offer a gesture of reassurance or even spare a word. Instead, she stepped through the portal into a world of green grass that twisted and grasped at her ornate hanfu shoes. The grasping grass withered and grew placid beneath her feet, some subtle tremor emanating from her.

Rashid paused but a moment longer. He broke his eye away from Alexandria to regard Ancient Mai's granddaughter, almost seeming to hesitate. He gave a little nod, something that might've been reassurance or could've been interpreted as permission for something. The granddaughter just stared, semi-blankly at him, her hand white-knuckled around her jade veined redwood staff.

The portal into the other world slipped shut, leaving Alexandria to her ruminations. It seemed possible that the White Council was able to travel between worlds, in much the same way that Cauldron had been able too. However, just one data-point was not conclusive. The portal could also just be the entrance mode to an artificial dimension or even another location on this Earth. Furthermore, even if they possessed a method of interdimensional travel it was unlikely to work on the same wavelength as Doormaker, given Doormaker had not even deigned to respond to her requests.

Alexandria turned glacially slowly, breeze rippling across her overcoat. Inlaid silver thread flared blue along the sleeves of the overcoat, just barely perceptible under her peripheral vision. The overcoat was far sturdier than its appearance would suggest. Her speed had barely threatened to thread it, even when most contemporary garments would have been shredded. One saving grace of Dresden, he had quality constructed clothes, even if its grungy appearance left much to be desired.

It was also the reason her little fae companion remained unharmed. The pixie, as if summoned by Alexandria's errant line of thought pulled herself free of the pocket, wiggling her little pine dress and escaped into the air, flitting into Alexandria's hair. She brushed against Alexandria's ear, a giggle that was more tinkling laughter drifting from her diminutive form. She offered no crucial insight so Alexandria completed her turn to the granddaughter uninterrupted.

"You can use illusions with some modicum of skill, I assume?" Alexandria harshly demanded an answer from her liaison with the White Council.

"Yes," the reply came quickly, some steel behind the English words. She had a perfect midwestern American accent, a quality that she shared with her grandmother. Some color seemed to be returning to the woman's cheeks.

Alexandria deigned to note that the granddaughter definitely seemed to be more than a complete pushover. Not as timid as she first appeared. She was still dressed in the black robe of the White Council uniform, her blue silk stole clinging to the black fabric of her robe. At her side was a small white leather satchel, embroidered with white thread, forming a script reminiscent but different from Mesopotamian cuneiform.

Alexandria could not read it exactly. Persian cuneiform was a cakewalk, a devoted specialist could decipher the meaning behind words easily with the appropriate guides. She had once spared a moment to memorize such guide texts, even though there would've been better uses of her time. A bet was a bet, and in the early days, before the directorate of the PRT had fallen to her she had enough time to spend hundreds of sleepless nights poring under the books in the Los Angeles Public Library. Now and then she even made trips to the New York Public Library to peruse the books within. Millions of words an hour, paragraphs and pictures remembered with perfect clarity. There were very few topics of which she did not possess at least a mote of passing knowledge. This was Assyrian-Babylonian cuneiform, utterly useless to try and memorize the rules for, especially when each tablet almost required its own expert.

She could at least tell the idea the letters formed, after all, it was in ideogram form. Some kind of protective message. A ward, to use the terminology of the denizens of the world she found herself in.

"Good," Alexandria replied, barely an instant passing in the world beyond her thoughts.

In a smooth motion, Alexandria knelt, feet briefly touching the ground, and plucked the grey drawstring bar from the shattered asphalt. One side of the bag was a shade lighter than the other, Alexandria noted, but the contents did not seem affected.

The bag was light, which might've been significant except for the fact that weight didn't really matter much to Alexandria anymore. It could've weighed ten thousand pounds and she would've still felt only the slightest echo of what could be pressure if she allowed it.

The drawstring bag opened with no effort. One length of the rope, of course, receding into the bag, out of reach. That was what Alexandria hated about drawstring bags, they were so inconvenient, the ropes almost whimsical if they were made poorly. She had never liked drawstring hoodies for the same reason, one too many times fumbling around for the rope.

She much preferred suits.

"What do they call you?" Alexandria asked, leaving the question open to interpretation. She could take it as a request for a codename, a moniker, an alias, or even her real name. It was about as much a cessation of knowledge-gathering as Alexandria was willing to give.

The woman's face was carefully placid as Alexandria looked up from the opened bag, brow raised in question. Her fingers tightened along her staff, in what Alexandria would call a nervous gesture. Uncertain.

"Yu," she replied.

"Appropriate," Alexandria replied, eye flashing down to the jade inlaid into Yu's carven red staff. Yu could mean jade when it was used as a name, or it could be used as a name for rain if it was intoned differently. It could also mean 'extra' which would be a cruel name to give a child, but an adult would probably understand it was meant as 'jade.'

Analysis of names, etymology, was an important skill. The majority of capes fell into the pitfall of selecting a name that was connected to their powers. Sometimes it was a harmless choice, or the namer held sufficient skill and power that elucidating their chosen quality did not result in vulnerability. More often the inverse was true, and the name revealed crucial details about an individual's powers. Such folly had been the ruin of many villains and heroes.

Simple names were best, names of objects, or qualities. Names like 'Legend' or 'Eidolon' which were not references, oblique or not, to the inner workings of how their powers worked.

Yu pursed her lips, evidentially biting back some kind of comment. She didn't dare to speak it, however, and hence Alexandria returned her attention back to the drawstring bag full of clothes.

"Pretty!" The pixie squeaked, her voice like a tiny bell next to Alexandria's head.

It was passable. A blouse in a deep red color. The cut was fine, Alexandria couldn't help but note that there was no way it was going to stay on her body if she even moved moderately fast while flying. The buttons were weak, it was more a dress piece than anything durable. Made to look nice, not function well. Well, by most people's standards it would probably be considered both pretty and functional, but to Alexandria, it was just pretty, not functional.

She draped it over the arm holding the drawstring bag and pulled free the next article of clothing. Black dress pants, about sufficient for her height. The accuracy was interesting in itself since she had been floating for the majority of her interaction with the White Council, yet they had managed to still get her measure in the literal sense.

No shoes. No undergarments. It made no real difference to her since she didn't need any support and she did not excrete anything from her body. She hadn't precisely needed them, even if she still wore them since the very early days, before her body solidified, back when it was more human. More malleable. If she attempted to cut her hair now, she would need tinkertech shears, and even then, they would have no guarantee of working well.

She still remembered Hero's face so long ago when she deliberately slipped up and mentioned something along that effect. A ghost of a ghost of a smile touched her face, barely caressing it before disappearing again into the aether.

"These are passable," she allowed, eye passing up to meet Yu's two brown eyes. Yu averted her gaze, barely allowing Alexandria to peer into her eyes, even for a moment.

"I'm sure the White Council is pleased with your satisfaction," Yu replied, hands around her staff like it was a totem to ward Alexandria away.

Alexandria did not snort, nor did she raise an eyebrow at the wordplay. Instead, she just commanded, "place one of your illusions over me."

"Why?" Yu asked, voice cautious. Her muscles tensed underneath her robes, red nails digging into the flesh of the hand that held her staff.

"So I can change," Alexandria replied, tone politely disinterested.

Yu blinked, eyes snapping down to the clothes and then up again. Her head made a little chicken-headed bobbing motion like she didn't know whether to nod or not and then she raised her staff upward. At first slowly, as she watched Alexandria intently. When Alexandria did not move, not even a single muscle then she moved faster, repeating a rote motion.

Yu's brow furrowed, then two syllables, forming a word, slipped from her pale lips, "Nana!"

Which unfortunately was not nearly enough for Alexandria to discover exactly what language she was speaking. The word itself was pronounced the way it would be in English, but the gravity, which was almost comical, as she said it, seemed to imply something else. It definitely wasn't the invocation of a grandmother, since the world seemed to gain a film over it, a glassy appearance as if viewed through a heavy storm window. The effect deepened until Alexandria and Yu stood obfuscated from sight, light seeming to bend around them.

Sweat beaded at Yu's brow and along the edges of her black hair. She stared at Alexandria with consternation, brow furrowed, as if Alexandria presented some unanswered question.

Alexandria's free hand slipped upward, to the uppermost button of her overcoat. Swiftly and efficiently, with absolutely no wasted motion she undid the buttons and pulled off the overcoat. For a moment she debated whether it would matter if she dropped it, but then noted that it really wouldn't matter overmuch with the dilapidated state of the garment.

She dropped it, however, she did take care not to drop it into one of the rain puddles that dotted the street, even despite the cracks. She dropped the dress pants on top of the overcoat and straightened out the blouse. Taking just a moment to try and smooth out the most egregious wrinkle before slipping the crimson-hued blouse onto her body.

Her long tanned fingers scooped up the pants next, securing them easily. It was morbidly amusing that the White Council had even guessed, or divined the exact perfect waist size. It made Alexandria, even as cross with them as she was, slightly impressed. It was good intel, after all. Good actionable intelligence was close to godliness.

It wasn't enough to excuse their scapegoating and attempted bandwagoning toward throwing Dresden to the Red Court. However, it did make her slightly more favorably inclined toward them, especially since they at least possessed the moral fibre to not completely descend to fear-mongering.

Alexandria flipped her hair, moving it out of the way of the overcoat, which she pulled back over the other two garments. She took special care to make sure her hands wouldn't catch on anything inside the sleeves, since with her strength tearing through the thin cloth would be child's play.

Her lips quirked slightly, gravitating toward the barest hints of a smile. She had been half-inclined to offer the return of Dresden's garment but she doubted he would miss it, especially with how hideous it was.

Of course, wearing the coat made her appear shabby by association, but it was a price she was willing to pay for the increased durability the overcoat seemed to possess. She did leave it unbuttoned, now that she had garments underneath.

Changing in public was not too unfamiliar to her, though usually when she was subject to destructive forces sufficient to scour the tinkertech clothes from her body there was a distinctive lack of civilians to witness her undress. It was a facet of the job, nothing more, nothing less. To be dealt with in a mature fashion as swiftly as possible to maintain the Protectorate image. Nudity around fellow capes was something she was thankfully desensitized too, unlike Eidolon, who probably had any kind of skin showing in public as one of his seven deadly fears.

Alexandria barely shifted her head as she heard a loud chirp. The pixie flitted around, inspecting her new clothes for a moment, tiny gossamer wings beating with hummingbird-esque speed. Her little face seemed quite pleased, and Alexandria turned back toward Yu as the pixie settled on the tall collar of the overcoat and proceeded to gnaw on the fabric with sharp little teeth.

Yu's high cheekbones were stained faintly with pink, but her face was carefully expressionless. Brown eyes examining a swirl in the illusion they were under. Her eyes darted toward Alexandria before she turned to regard her more fully.

"Come," Alexandria said, "Tell me what you know."

The illusion stretched around her, thinning for a moment, before it collapsed into shards of un-light, not unlike chunks of pane glass. For an instant, the effect lingered and then it vanished, not dissolving or subliming, but simply straight-up dematerializing, each piece instantaneously disappearing.

Yu's footsteps were quiet, each step perfectly measured and uniform. She walked as if she had been trained, not fast enough to indicate military or squad training but uniform enough that Alexandria could make note of it. Discipline, then, was an important facet of her life for an extended period of time, and not what was typically regarded as discipline but instead something more rigorous.

Yu remained silent, seemingly ordering her thoughts. Alexandria allowed her the moment.

"Simon Pietrovich is a member of the White Council," Yu said, tone slow, carefully even, "He was the council's expert on the Vampire Courts."

She paused for a breath, face growing more pensive, "He was stationed in Archangel, as Ea- as Warden Baines may have informed you."

"Simon Pietrovich…" Alexandria sounded out, the syllables slipping free from her lips. Now it was Alexandria's turn to be pensive.

"That is a common name, Pietrovich, son of peter," Alexandria continued, tone artificially light and airy, calculated just so that Yu would know her tone was artificial. A statement and tone which indicated her skepticism.

Yu's head bobbed with a nod as she acknowledged Alexandria's statement. She stepped over a crack in the sidewalk as they came to the end of the street. Alexandria very subtly drifted right, and Yu turned, walking down that way, following her direction.

"It is, Lady Alexandria. When Simon Pietrovich chose to be known by his avonymic patronym, it was less common, a more distinguished choice," Yu clarified, voice hesitant, as if she was unsure how much she should really divulge.

Interesting. Alexandria thought idly, considering the information. Another point of data concerning the longevity of the White Council.

"Just call me Alexandria," Alexandria allowed, tone even.

Another voice echoed in her mind, the last time the words, 'call me just' passed her lips.

Call me Rebecca.

It wasn't a pleasant memory, not in retrospect. Not when the memory was tainted by pain. For all Alexandria's vaunted memory, there were some recollections that she wanted to discard. Some things that she could forget if she could. Painful memories.

It only wasn't a torment because she could push the thoughts and memories away as easily as they sought to intrude.

"Archangel is a city of a quarter of a million souls," Alexandria continuing along a differing vein, "I assume the White Council is aware of the last known location of Wizard Pietrovich?"

"The White Council maintained the fortress of Novodvinskaya since-" she paused again, eyes tracking upward to Alexandria by her side before she decided to continue anyway, "-it was granted to them -us, by Nikolay Pavlovich, Grand Duke of Finland."

Nikolay Pavolich? That had interesting connotations. That at least suggested the White Council had been around since the seventeen-hundreds. 'Since' suggested even an even earlier genesis. The question was whether there were more divergences than just occupying a museum fortress in the city of Archangel.

Alexandria was finding the idea of visiting a library more and more attractive. The loss of time would be negligible, but the possible knowledge would be invaluable. It was clear that the supernatural afflicted the natural world, yet America seemed almost indistinguishable from the one she knew, barring the presence of capes.

"Has the White Council been able to examine the site of his presumed death?" Alexandria asked, still in all-business mode. Investigating a murder was actually a novelty. Her deductive skills were rarely put to the task of deciphering murders or plebeian crimes.

Cape on cape murder was usually clear-cut. Simple. Surprisingly straight-forward for how many variables there could actually be. Capes preferred to do the deed in person, even when logic dictated that they should act through proxies. Masters and tinkers preferring to appear in person when they could easily delegate to their minions and creations.

Bastard Son of the Elite was one exception to this rule, but even he sometimes fell into the mistake of wanting to be there and savour the defeat of his enemies in person. Alexandria still smarted under the restriction imposed by Contessa. She had almost got the coward once, but afterward, he had proven surprisingly adept at evading her further attempts.

"No," Yu replied, her pace still carefully measured. Her brown eyes slid around their surroundings, yet again climbing toward the roofs of the buildings. Canvassing for snipers, a learned skill, and one Alexandria did not expect to find in someone with powers.

Before too long a silence followed, Yu continued, "The ways were either collapsed by Baines, or are treacherous for the White Council to pass through."

A shadow seemed to pass over her face, a deep-felt pain. Yu's free hand drifted upward, toward her forearm. Her expression, forced tranquility as it was, still shimmered for the briefest instant with some remembered pain.

Furthermore, 'ways' was emphasized. 'Ways' and their inability to reach Archangel either implied that Russia was completely shut to the White Council or that there were alternate routes to reaching it. Perhaps through the self-same portal power Rashid demonstrated. Perhaps through the translocation teleportation power of the Queen of Winter.

Hence, Alexandria could ask, "And in the real world?"

Yu actually seemed to pause and consider for another instant, frown forming, "The Red Court has embedded itself in many facets of government throughout the former Soviet bloc satellites. The collapse of communism-"

Something passed over her face, irritation mixed with righteousness. A complicated expression, which Alexandria did not see the need to examine in detail, save cataloging it as a data point for later analysis.

"-The collapse of communism let many beasts run amok, many things which would've stayed restrained by the power and reach of the state. Eastern Europe has few isolated strongholds, hidden and hopefully unknown."

"Enemy territory," Alexandria observed, already working on the problem. She was half-tempted to just go there herself. She could fly fast enough and her body was small enough it should barely register on radar as more than an anomaly. Or, it could cause a diplomatic crisis and plunge the Western hemisphere into war if they thought she was a missile.

Scion had destroyed Earth Bet's stockpile of nukes, in what was no doubt a deliberate action to remove them from the playing field. A deliberate move to avoid having the humans destroyed too early to fulfill his nefarious motives.

Earth Aleph still had nukes and had trained more than a few on the information portal between the two Earths. Not that it would do any good. The dimensional membrane that Haywire's device retained, in an uncharacteristic display of restraint, was more than enough to stop both errant fission and fusion weapons. Small mercies for an incident that almost ignited an interdimensional war.

"Quite," Yu smiled a small, shallow, polite smile.

"The amulet that Baines carried, how is that connected to Pietrovich's possible survival?"

Yu frowned, eyes darting left and then right, as she thought for a moment. Her reply came shortly afterward, "I was not made aware of the connection. The only relevant information was that it was enthused with both Pietrovich's magic, an enchantment unknown to the White Council, and darkened by Summer's wellspring."

Summer. Yes, the obvious counterpoint polity to Winter in this strange world, which operated on fairy tale logic. Seelie and Unseelie. Summer and Winter. If this was a fairy tale, Summer would be counterbalanced by its antithesis Winter.

That would be interesting if the fact that Yu lied wasn't more intriguing. The second part was true, or at least Yu believed it was true. The first part, about the connection, was a lie. Either she was aware of the connection or there was no connection. One of those was more likely than the other.

"The White Council has also lost track of Ronald Reuel, the Summer Knight. The coincidence is too great to pass up, especially with Pietrovich's known-" here Yu blushed, almost seeming scandalized, before continuing, "-adversarial relations with the Summer Queen That Is."

Alexandria repressed the shadow of her mirth, deducing that it was more 'dalliances' rather than 'relations' that Yu wished to say, even if one was far from exclusive of the other.

Queen that 'Is' was another point of interest. It implied that there was more than one Queen. It was an awkward designation. Former queen, dowager queen, or acting queen would be more elegant. The choice had to be deliberate then and was probably linked to yet more mythological connotations. The choice of 'queen that is' therefore meant that there was also a 'queen that was,' who was possibly dead and possibly a 'queen that would be,' who was probably a child.

"So find Ronald Reuel and potentially find Pietrovich?" Alexandria mused aloud, floating forward. She came to rest near a crosswalk. Yu, after a moment of indecision, stepped forward to press the crosswalk button. There were no cars, yet Yu waited for the indicator to flash with the image of a walking man before she started across it.

It was odd, admittingly, that a street in Chicago, not far from the city's interior would be deserted. The hour was stretching toward high noon, yet there were none on the street they walked. A rusty red pickup turned down the street ahead, passing them slowly before continuing on down the street shakily.

Alexandria turned her head to follow it as it passed with her single eye.

It was with something like consternation that filled Alexandria an instant later as she heard a shrill scream coming from an alleyway behind them, just off the beaten sidewalk. Yu glanced toward her, seeking some kind of input.

The scream was sharp and piercing, more filled with pain than a cry for help. Yet, Alexandria did not feel like continuing on. She was a hero, damn it, and if evil was happening in front of her she was obliged to stop it. Or break the evil, whichever was better for humanity as a whole.

One moment Alexandria stood next to Yu at the corner of the intersection, watching a lone pickup pass them, the next Alexandria stood at the entrance of the alleyway, overcoat snapping behind her.

She heard the hurried footsteps and sharp breaths of her companion as she hurried to reach Alexandria.

This alleyway was better off, with no broken glass or refuse dotting the concrete floor. No overflowing dumpsters. A puddle of fetid rainwater accumulated down the center of the alley but that was all, besides, of course, the woman.

Alexandria spared the barest fraction of a moment of her accelerated thought to wonder what exactly it was about Chicago's alleyways that her last two meetings were conducted adjacent to their entrances. It made her feel like a drug dealer, honestly. Just a little bit, not that much because she was a superheroine, and saving accosted people in alleyways was practically a staple of superhero fiction.

It was a little surreal though since it had actually been about a decade since she had last responded to something as normal as a scream from an alleyway.

However, this encounter she expected to be anything but normal.

A pale blonde-haired woman, clutched at a bleeding cut, jagged and deep, over her right hamstrings. Thick pink blood seeped forth between what would have been immaculate fingers as she clutched at the wound, keeping pressure on it.

"Damn cat," she hissed venomously, but there was a truly immense amount of fear in her voice, which clashed with the venom. It made her just sound kind of pitiful. A steel knife, short and sweet was clutched in her other hand. A strand of blond hair hung free, disarrayed, from her elaborate coiffure.

The most interesting part about the woman was that Alexandria recognized her. Recognized her from the White Council's convention, since she was the representative of the White Court that shared her table.

The cat? Another obvious reference, especially bearing in mind her earlier conversation with Cat Síth. For some reason, the malk had seen fit to alert her to a stalker. That was what the woman in front of her was, ultimately. It was far too great a coincidence that the White Court would be perfectly situated to follow them if they kept to the ground.

What was even more interesting was that there was some method with which she was being tracked and didn't seem to know it. A potential security risk. Alexandria's countenance darkened.

The White Court vampire lifted her hand away from the wound, which almost seemed to shimmer with silver mercury, filling in the wound with bright pink scar tissue and then flesh. Her pant legs were shredded, marked by claw marks that matched a certain fairy cat.

The woman grunted, a noise which seemed completely inelegant for such a regal looking woman, even marred with blood. Her grey eyes trailed upward, then widened as she caught sight of Alexandria.

Satisfaction warred with fear and relief for an instant, before her eyes darted away and up the side of the building. Alexandria followed her gaze, catching just a glimpse of dark fur at the very top of the brick building near them before it disappeared over the ledge.

Cat Síth then, or there was a panther stalking Chicago's streets that could climb a sheer brick wall. Alexandria knew which of those was more likely, and it was pretty unlikely that a panther would ever get free from the Lincoln Park Zoo.

Alexandria floated into the alleyway, approaching the vampire slowly. Her expression was placid, but inside her anger gnawed at her. Nothing quite managed to push her buttons like the idea of non-humans preying on humans. It was anathema, really. Just as sickening an idea as the agents preying on humanity at the behest of a faux deity.

The only point that stood in the vampire's favor was its human appearance. It was obviously capable of human-level thought and sophistication, which made Alexandria consider whether it was more human than the other seemed to indicate.

The vampire's mouth opened. Then it closed. Silver grey eyes locking on hers and seeming to quail at something about her.

"Why are you following me?" Alexandria demanded curtly. Inwardly, she resolved that until she really should operate under the maxim of 'innocent until proven guilty' but she wasn't sure how much she really cared when humanity was one the line.

"I'm not following you!" the vampire member of House Skavis claimed, trying to look affronted. Her pulse jumped in her thin neck, eyes darting away and around the alley. Her expression seemed to drop as she spotted something behind Alexandria but Alexandria did not bother to turn. She could already hear the sharp breathing of Yu behind her.

"Pants on fire!" The pixie crowed from her spot, still gnawing on Alexandria's collar.

The vampire glanced down at her pants, expression questioning for a moment. Alexandria did let amusement show then since it was such a blatant, panicked lie. It was a cold amusement, coloring her following words with derision.

"I'm sure," she drawled, "what do you want?"

"That's a White Court!" Yu bit out, breath still coming sharply between her gritted teeth. Her jade staff wavered in her hands.

The vampire's attention jumped to the other woman before it jumped back to Alexandria.

"I don't want anything!" Her words were sharp, her eyes kept on gravitating toward Alexandria's ruined eye. Heavy words, somehow weighing on the world, dragging it down. Coloring everything with black and grey, even though its inherent color remained. Making the

Alexandria paused to consider the question, some gravity seeming to color the words. Some kind of inherent nihilism, which made her pause a moment. Some kind of kinship. She didn't really want anything either, did she?

Her purpose was completed, wasn't it? Cauldron had chewed her up, used her, and then discarded her like yesterday's trash when the time was opportune…

It was the human condition

The pixie flitted in front of her face, wings beating in a colorful haze.

"Skavis are despair-eaters," Yu ground out, voice distant like she could barely speak. Literally, tinged with depression so thick Alexandria could practically taste it, "Hope."

Despair compounds depression, depression revolving back into despair. All-consuming, and rotating like an ouroboros.

Despair eater? Emotional manipulation. Ice ran down Alexandria's spine, an alien sensation. It had been years since she felt any kind of temperature sensation.

Why did it matter? Alexandria's thoughts whirred faster and faster. The Endbringers were grinding humanity down. Scion was unbeatable. They had no silver bullet for him like they had for the counterpart. What did it matter even, when the Endbringers would destroy everything, scattering all of humanity into a diaspora…

Hope. She had no hope. Not really. A fool's hope that she knew was a fool's hope. The idea that Cauldron, given enough time, could find the silver bullet. It was a pipe dream. An impossibility. Scion would never give out an actual power that could hurt him, and the possibility of getting power as great as Eidolon and Legend from the remaining harvested fragments seemed like a distant fantasy.

What she did have was determination. To keep going no matter the cost. No matter the obstacles. Always going forward, working toward saving the world, even though it was impossible. She had never given up when faced with the long creeping death of cancer. Even though despair beckoned like a siren call, she still held out, determined to live another day.

Not hoping to live another day, but determined to live another day.

It was determination that flowed through her mind like molten iron. The despair was artificial, she could see in the next moment, how it lay almost insidiously intertwining with her strands of thought. The faster her thoughts flowed, the more gaps the despair had.

The silver-white eyes of the creature in front of her were glazed with fear. She could feel her own expressionless expression staring into the creature in front of her. Her features betrayed none of the crisis of meaning she had just experienced. Her default face was nothing and distracted by her spiraling thoughts she had not thought to change it.

Her long fingers rose, guided by her iron will. The vampire tried to dodge backward, out of reach, but she moved in slow-motion. Even backed by superhuman speed, the vampire was no match for the sheer speed and power of Alexandria's body.

A strangled gasp burst free and then her adamantine fingers closed around the throat of the vampire, lifting her up and off the ground and into the brick alleyway wall behind her.

Pale fingers clawed at her grasp, nailing scratching at her hand fruitlessly. Fingers slick with pink blood, desperately trying to keep Alexandria's grip from sliding completely closed around her windpipe.

The despair slid away, even as it became more heavy-handed, trying to bludgeon her mind into giving in. The more despair tried to cloud her thoughts, the easier it was distinguishable from her own thoughts. It became less and less real, the more her mind became accustomed to the thought strands which weren't her own.

"Cease, if you still like a head attached to your throat," Alexandria whispered, low and dangerous, almost intimately close to the blonde's ear.

Silver-white eyes, shining almost with silver tears met her lone brown eye and widened. Abruptly the despair fell away, dissipating with the gasps of the woman in her hands. She still clawed at Alexandria's hands, trying to keep her own body weight from choking herself. Alexandria tightened her grip just slightly and the struggles ceased, the vampire grabbing onto her overcoat's sleeve with slick fingers.

"The Simurgh. Heartbreaker. Valefor." Alexandria recited, tone dark and heavy. Her eye bore into the eyes of the vampire in front of her as the names left her lips. Glassy incomprehension flittered behind them.

"All Masters. All tried to enthrall me. All failed," Alexandria boasted coldly, "What makes you think you would be different?"

To be true, her standard anti-master speech really didn't work in this situation. Infamous villains of Bet really didn't engender the same respect in a world that didn't know about them. Still, the vampire in front of her seemed to know at least something, based on the way something like horrified comprehension seemed to cross her eyes. Truthfully, it didn't matter. The names were spoken with the gravitas reserved for notable things, notable people. It didn't matter that the vampire didn't know them. What mattered was that Alexandria's tone spoke of the fact that she knew them and the vampire was lesser than them.

There was a crackle and stench of ozone, Alexandria glanced away, back toward Yu, who looked drained. A silver circle gleamed on the concrete around her, a subtle light shining even in the noonday sun. Yu's eyes were framed by deep bags and it looked like she had lost a whole day's worth of sleep in the short while. Her eyes were glazed over with exhaustion but otherwise, she seemed all right.

"White Court. House Skavis," Yu explained, switching her jade staff in her hands. Her voice was shaky, actually cracking as she said 'Skavis.'

Alexandria knew this already, what she didn't know was what it meant. Thankfully, the wizard, or would it be witch, continued, almost in the same tone as someone reciting something by rote or from a textbook, "it feeds on human emotions. In her case, despair."

Yu pursed her lips, thinking for a moment, "Hope is its antithesis. It's poisonous to them."

As the last words slipped free, Yu seemed to blink almost, glaze dissipating marginally, and realized that she had essentially lectured her. Alexandria stared down at her dispassionately as she colored, a blush spreading up her neck. Embarrassed, Alexandria mused. It was valuable information that she thought Alexandria already knew.

Alexandria turned her attention back to the vampire who still fought to keep the weight off her throat. The veins on the white-faced vampire's face bulged. Pink blood vessels burst in her eye. Long fingers, stained pink, one finger missing its painted pink nail, struggled to hold onto Alexandria's arm.

"I should kill you," Alexandria told it, letting it see her visibly consider the idea. Its eyes bulged, even more than it already did and it struggled a moment, straining against her grip, nailing trying and failing to find purchase on Alexandria's hand. A feeble kick slammed into her hip, tearing her right pant leg. Alexandria could feel the heel of the shoe snap as it impacted her invulnerable skin. Her eyes looked desperate, beautiful picture-perfect face coloring with splotches of color as she suffocated in Alexandria's hands.

A blood vessel burst in the other eye, Alexandria relaxed her tightening grip, dropping the vampire to the ground of the alleyway.

The pixie flitted out from behind her ear, rubbing at teary eyes. Alexandria barely spared a moment, the sparse fraction of acknowledgment to the tiny being before she returned her attention to the real threat.

The vampire gasped aloud, spitting a mouthful of blood out onto the grimy floor of the alleyway. Her pale throat was covered in a dark bruise, the shape of Alexandria's hand. Alexandria huffed in derision and let her feet touch the ground. The vampire's eyes flew up to her face and then the vampire backpedaled, ruined foot and intact heel scraping across the concrete.

"I asked once before, and you did not answer except through misdirection and lies," Alexandria stated, "What is your name?"

"She is Cosette Skavis, bastard daughter of a bastard daughter of House Skavis," Yu said derisively, "A representative of House Skavis, specifically selected because she was expendable and as a slight from the lowest of the houses of the White Court to the Council."

Yu's voice started out exhausted but gained strength as additional words joined those she already uttered. Such wordplay was familiar to her, politics was familiar, and she drew strength of will from the familiarity.

"Cosette," Alexandria murmured, amused just slightly, in a very dark way. She stepped closer, feeling the despair tickle at her mind again. She let a very slight frown begin its slide across her face and felt the despair waver and fall away.

"Lowest named member of the House of Skavis," Yu clarified yet again, still refraining to step free from her circle. Her body trembled with some unseen energy, nerves of fear or rage it was hard to tell.

Alexandria considered the creature in front of her and reached a conclusion. Some tools were found in unexpected places after all.

"It's against the Accords! You can't kill me!" The vampire trembled out, trying to seep back into the shadows.

Yu made no comment, merely watched.

"The Unseelie Accords," Alexandria said out loud. It was more a statement than a request for clarification.

"I seem to remember you striking first," Alexandria continued, letting herself smile maliciously, "Emotional manipulation is an attack, is it not?"

"I didn't want to do it!" The vampire, Cosette, scrambled for her knife, a twisted misshapen piece of metal on the ground. Knives tended to do that when faced with Alexandria's skin. A long-standing observation backed up by a metric ton of data-points. Alexandria was also fairly sure Number Man had graphed it at one point too, but that wasn't important.

"You didn't want to do it?" Alexandria replied, musing, trying to parse what that comment exactly meant in that context. It wasn't a denial, for sure, but it was also, shifting the blame, but the words tasted like a lie. Her frantic face and over-clocked heart, the way her eyes shifted to the side, screamed of a lie, a half-lie at best.

"The soif," she whimpered, scrambling for words, trying to explain something, "I was already drawing on my power, then you got in my face! It wasn't my error!"

Vehmancy colored her voice, despite the fear that underlaid it. It was laughable really, blaming Alexandria for her own slip.

"I abhor those who prey on humanity," Alexandria continued slowly, locking eyes with the vampire. The vampire's finger's dug into the brick, leaving stains of pink as it hoisted itself to its feet, leaning against the alleyway wall.

"The Accords!" The vampire tried again, eyes darting around.

"Let me divulge a secret of mine," Alexandria said, voice cast low, stepping closer. The vampire quailed under her attention, seeming to shrink lower.

"I'm not part of the Accords," she whispered and watched the naked fear skirt over Cosette's vampiric features. The White Court vampire tried to bolt, exploding into motion, injured foot smashing into the concrete. Alexandria's hand snapped outward, crushing into her shoulder, arresting the vampire's dash for freedom.

She shuddered, trying to wrest free from Alexandria's grip, to pull away from her iron grip.

Alexandria released her and she crashed back into the fetid water in the middle of the alleyway, struggling to get her feet underneath her.

"The way I see it," Alexandria stated, voice flat, "You will work on my behalf."

Cosette's silver eyes glanced upward, dirty water marring her perfect face. A complicated series of emotions slipped free, dancing around her eyes, not quite graduating enough to break free of her mouth.

Instead it was Yu who spoke, voice careful, "She's White Court."

The words were stated as if they were enough explanation on their own.

The White Court's eyes tracked upward, and Alexandria risked glancing upward as well, to the ledge of the roof above the alleyway. A great malk sat there, pitch black on vanta black fur. Dark claws gouging into the stone. Cat Síth sat watching with unblinking slitted eyes.

The vampire turned back, nodding shakily to Alexandria. Cat Síth's tail twirled, as if he was disappointed, then he seeped away, claws effortlessly dragging through the stone before he disappeared again.

"I have two simple rules for you," Alexandria decided to explain her decision, "You cannot manipulate anyone's emotions, except those I indicate. Second, you will obey my words."

The vampire's eyes flashed to the right and the left, warring with herself, "If I don't?"

Alexandria raised an eyebrow, then gestured with her hand, a slight gesture, indicating the roof above, "That was Cat Síth."

The vampire went even paler than it was, eyes darting back toward the heroine.

Alexandria extended a perfect hand to the vampire. She drew back as if the hand was poisoned for a moment, fighting with herself, before she swallowed, a move that accentuated the dark bruises and then reached out and grabbed Alexandria's hand.

"I worked with monsters," Alexandria said blithely, "True monsters, that found it within themselves to work for the betterment of humanity."

Her mind flashed to Harbinger, the man who became Number Man, and then on to others. It wasn't in her nature to hand out second chances, that was more Legend's purview. Or even Cauldron, but their second chances were oftentimes more aptly acts of enabling.

The creature in front of her fed on humanity, but that didn't mean it couldn't be turned to her purposes.

She turned away, walking back toward Yu, who had a complicated expression on her face, as if she couldn't quite decide whether to be impressed or not.

Once Alexandria was close enough, Yu whispered, "It's a White Court! It will never be able to go against its basic nature!"

Alexandria frowned, taking in the ruined sidewalk and alleyway around them, the way the water flowed to the point of least resistance in the middle.

"It is not in my nature to give second chances," she replied, voice resolute, "I do provide alternate paths for others to take. Whether they take them is irrelevant to me unless they clash with my goals."

Cosette drew closer, hands massaging at her neck, one foot favoring the other.

Alexandria fixed the vampire with a glare, "I consider you a proof of concept."

Left unexplained was what or who was the 'proof of concept.' Alexandria preferred it that way.

"Multiple times I've clashed with things that sought to end all of humanity, in all those fights I endured," she continued, "Always for humanity and the greater good."

Alexandria finally turned away from the vampire, "If she harms a human without good reason, I will end her. She should pray that I don't find her wanting."

There was a moment of silence which stretched on as Alexandria considered her choice. She could hear the harsh breaths of both woman in the sudden quiet. A moment's attention was all that was needed to bring the sound of their heartbeats to the fore. Both stressed, both's heart thumped away above the average beats per minute.

Yu was correct, it was fundamentally a heavy risk to involve the vampire. Yet, it was also clear that this world was filled with enemies.

The White Court vampire at least appeared superficially human, something that could not be said for the chiropteran Red Court. Alexandria had been unbending for most of her life, but even she could recognize a useful power. If she could bend that toward the enemies of humanity, then it could be useful. Once its use ran out, or she was forced to choose between it or humanity the choice was clear. Until then, it could be useful.

A simple, cold, calculus. The same cold calculus that led her to listen to Contessa when she recommended taking the long route, letting a villain slip by unseen but not unnoticed. Atrocities committed for the greater good. Alexandria did not have Contessa with her now to guide her, but even she could recognize someone useful.

Cosette Skavis was a desperate woman. The lowest member, of the lowest component of a tri-part polity. Her agreement was borne by fear at the moment, but it was also clear the emotional desperation visible in her gaze.

Alexandria wondered exactly how a polity of despair eating creatures organized their hierarchy. A primitive free-for-all? By blood rights? By seeing who would give in to despair the quickest?

Any of the three seemed a useful way to wrest control of the vampire away from the White Court. Once she unraveled the first thread, the rest could follow.

"It will take me four minutes to reach Archangel," Alexandria stated, floating back around, overcoat snapping with the motion. She continued after a moment, "I doubt the investigation will take longer than an hour. Something to think about."

Then she lifted into the air, pixie trailing by her side, wings beating like a hummingbird, and ascended into the sky.

She spared one glance back. Yu stood within her circle, jade staff clutched in her hands. Cosette outside, seeming shaken, a dark bruise already fading along her throat.

Chicago stretched in front of her, the horizon filled with life and cars. She headed north, careful to fly slowly within city limits as she ascended. A man atop a roof, reclining on a sun chair with a mug of coffee in his hands did a double-take, newspaper dropping from his hand.

Alexandria raised an eyebrow and offered a slight dismissive wave as the pixie performed a form perfect pirouette next to her. The man didn't seem to even register the pixie, just continued to stare at her form as she floated away northward.

I-94 passed below her, jam-packed with cars. She was already high enough that only the most attentive would notice her. Her eyes scanned the city, taking in the sight of the unmarked city.

As she noted before, it was a heady sensation to see a Chicago so intact. The last time she had visited any Chicago it had been Bet's during Malcolm's, Myrddin's, funeral. Cold anger ran through her like it always did when she thought of his death. Brockton Bay was a refuse heap, and Echidna was only the last symptom of a dysfunctional system.

She loathed Docter Mother's asinine idea of justifying Cauldron's inactivity in Brockton Bay. A directive that led to Myrddin's demise. Parahuman feudalism didn't need to be observed in Brockton Bay, all they really needed to do was look to the warlords of Africa to see how things would ultimately play out. Feudalism wasn't even sustainable, it stifled development due to fear.

Still, her eyes tracked northwest, searching for an instant, eyes flitting over buildings until she found the one she was looking for. The site of Myrddin's funeral service, a Catholic Church. She knew it by sight, despite never setting foot in it.

It had been decades since she actually entered a Church. She hadn't gone since she was diagnosed with cancer, some small part of her rebelling at the idea of forgiving God for what he had inflicted her with.

Later, she didn't have time. Regardless, her religious inclinations had withered and died as she observed the world. What kind of God would permit Scion and the counterpart to ravage Earth? To give out the blessing of destructive powers to many that least deserved it? For, every poor individual that was granted power in their hour of need was broken irreparably. It didn't matter the quality of the therapist, few capes were ever restored to full functionality.

No, long ago, Alexandria had concluded that if there was a God, then he was indifferent. Yet, the notion gnawed at her. She never felt physical discomfort anymore. She could discard her doubts with only effort of will.

Myrddin, despite being a believer that powers were magic, had also believed in God. Myrddin was also someone who she considered a friend. She had been too busy to attend his funeral. In the midst of scrambling to defend her position as Chief Director of the PRT, to prevent all of Cauldron's machinations from going up like so much smoke.

Directives from Contessa came like clockwork that entire day, countless fires put out before they became blazing conflagrations. Some even threatened to consume the entire world. Still, she missed the ceremony of a man she considered one of her only friends in the entire world. Eidolon, for all his stupid fake abs, Legend and his goofy smile, Myrddin with the crazy theories which he had to know were completely ludicrous.

Alexandria hesitated, staring at the church. It was called St. Mary of the Angels, she recalled, remembering Legend's words, on the corner of Cortland and Hermitage, Chicago. As if she didn't already know all of Chicago's streets from above by memory. As if she would actually need to take a car or fly to get there, she would've just taken one of Doormaker's portals. In and out, just long enough for the eulogy.

The front of the church was polished white columns, side by side in groups of two to make a total of eight. Alexandria's bare feet touched the ground. The chill was dull, more academic than anything else against her feet. Her ability to discern temperature was still present, but her body dulled the sensation.

The heavy oaken doors were closed. For an instant, Alexandria wanted them to be locked, so that she could justify continuing her task unbothered by her guilty conscience. She stepped forward slightly. Some long-forgotten pious part of her whispered, saying that flying would be disrespectful. She imagined it was something that her mother would say and that really smarted.

Her fingers closed around the brass door handle. For a pregnant moment, she paused, imagining just flying away again before she grit her teeth subtly and pulled the door open. The door pulled open easily, and Alexandria stepped around it, into the church.

Like the cold stone tiles outside, Alexandria barely felt the red rug within the narthex. With quiet, almost reverent but not quite, Alexandria stepped into the church's nave, passing between two angel statues, one robed in pink the other in white, each clutching at large clam shells filled with holy water.

Alexandria did not bless herself. She did not make the sign of the cross, or anything else like that. Instead, she stood stoically for a moment, looking over the empty interior. It was pretty, in the classical sense. Beautiful statues and stained glass, and the hard wooden pews she remembered from her similar churches during her childhood.

She slipped into a pew, sliding down a kneeler and knelt, not sure what she should be feeling. She had to admit that she was disappointed. She expected some kind of fulfillment, something to alleviate the guilt that she felt about missing the funeral of one of her closest friends. There was nothing, not really, just that self-same emptiness.

Back before everything she remembered the little prayer she used to say, for everything to be good in the whole world.

A fool's dream.

Short measured steps passed behind her, someone walking with a modicum of stealth. She turned slightly, hands still resting against the back of the pew in front of her.

The first thing she registered was the black cassock and then the Roman collar. This was the priest then. His hair was greying, but not threatened yet by baldness. Wire rimmed glasses graced a slim nose. Behind the glasses, sharp blue eyes stared into her eye.

The priest seemed to regard her for a beat then he furrowed his brow, eyes tracing over her missing eye.

"Hello, I'm Father Forthill," he said softly, eyes still locked on hers, "Can I assist you with anything?"

Alexandria turned her attention back toward the altar, suddenly not sure what to say. She had to admit that was a novel experience for her, the usually erudite member of the triumvirate. Not the most personable, that would be Legend. Instead, she had always been the one with the probing comment, the sharp observation right when it was needed.

"My friend's funeral was here once," Alexandria replied, tone somber. Inwardly, she debated the merits of sharing the information. All her life she kept her cards close to her vest, never letting an iota of her thoughts share unintended. This was a new life, with a new purpose.

She didn't believe in God, not really. But she did believe in second chances. She had been granted one twice if she looked at it a certain way. The question really was, what kind of person she wanted to be.

"What was his name? Or her?" Father Forthill replied equally softly.

"Malcolm, but he went by Myrddin," Alexandria said.

Father Forthill hummed, "Is that what is troubling you?"

"No," Alexandria responded, and now it was her turn to wrestle with herself.

"I fought monsters, Father, and along the way, I think I may have become a monster."

The priest was quiet, considering her words, "Nietzsche had many things to say, some of it profound, other parts more dangerous. Have you done good in the world?"

"Yes," Alexandria replied. She turned to face the priest again. His expression was unscrupulous, but something like understanding burned behind his eyes.

"God does not ask what we did, but how we will change going forward," he replied, "We tell him what we did, and ask for forgiveness."

Alexandria snorted in derision, scorn seeming to drip from her voice, "I choked a woman almost to death. I forced a young girl into trying to kill me because she feared I killed her friends. I lied to the world for the greater good, covered up atrocities greater than the sum fears of man. I'm not a good person."

It would once have been unthinkable that such words would slip free from her. For decades she maintained an immaculate dark knight image. Everyone knew she performed dark deeds but the public couldn't prove a thing. Even a year ago she wouldn't have dreamed of sharing a secret with anyone, not even a priest. Now was different. She was thrust into a world not her own. A world where nobody knew of her or her actions.

Once, she had yelled out to the world the immortal words, "I want to be a hero!" Once they had been true. Now her hands were stained. Did she take it back? No, the sins she committed were for the greater good. Someday, long in the future, she could find redemption when her work was done. Or she would die before that day came.

Father Forthill looked at her, blue eyes intense beneath his wire-rimmed glasses. A little frown played across his aged features.

"Nobody is beyond forgiveness, no matter the weight of their sins," Father Forthill raised his eyes to the cross above the altar.

Alexandria's thoughts spiraled around and around as she raised up her eyes to the cross. She didn't seek forgiveness. She didn't want understanding.

What she had done.

She wasn't sorry.

She would do it all again.