by S A Tedman
“I have not laughed like this for centuries,” he mused, wiping away a tear before he continued. “I appreciate your efforts, and for some strange reason I am indeed weak in the knees as my eyes feast upon your beauty, but I doubt robbing me will be as easy as you had initially planned.”
“I - I don’t understand,” she stammered, not knowing if she should run, or maybe slap him for even suggesting she were a thief.
“Please, have no fear. I have been searching for you for over a week, and I am pleased we have finally met.”
“Why would you be looking for me at all?” she asked, pursing her lips and frowning like a little girl caught with her hand in a jar of biscuits.
“I just want to talk,” he said reassuringly, and she relaxed immediately.
The snow fell slowly around them, cradling the view, and turning the world into a silent haven.
“Your exploits as a thief have come to my ears, and that in itself is rare. I work for an organisation, for people with special gifts and I wish you to become a part of it. I know you shall equate me to a madman, but I give you my word that what I am about to reveal is the truth. There is a world, hidden in plain sight, a world only those who have been exposed to can witness, a world of magic and an immensity of power you could barely comprehend, but it is there, in the shadows, in the fold of a piece of fabric that only the sharpest eye can see. We are Immortal, we are Psychic, we are more than just a curious white-haired man drinking tea outside on a cold winter’s day. I work to seek the truth of this world, to unveil its mysteries and protect those who would fall prey to the greedy, the ignorant and the less evolved minds. I wish for you to come with me and allow me to show you my world. A world where a man can bend steel with his mind, or turn water to ice, with a simple snap of his fingers.”
Victoria didn’t answer. She just sighed and put down her cup.
“You do not seem surprised,” said the beautiful man with his eyebrows raised.
“Well, that would be because I am not. I already know of the Fold, and of magic, and these special abilities you speak of.”
“Then it is I who am surprised. How exactly do you know all of this?”
“I have been on the streets my entire life. You cannot survive long without knowing certain things. People think that the unfortunate, beggars, thieves, and woman of pleasure are all blind and stupid, so they are careless around us. You become careless around us, and yes, I have seen what you can do, as have many of us and I do not think I want to be a part of it.”
The man stood up and nodded.
“But have you no questions? Nothing I could say or do to change your mind?”
“You might be Immortal and by what you said beforehand, one that has lived many lives, but you are all the same. You wish to exploit my talents for your gain. Why would I say yes to your proposition? What would I gain out of it?”
“You would never need to steal again, and no matter what I ask of you, you would always be free to say no.”
“Then no,” she said, smiling sadly.
She knew she would probably never see him again, and the pain she felt in her heart was as close to loss as she had ever felt but she did not wish to have to answer to anybody but herself.
“I would never insist a woman or man do anything that would make them uncomfortable. I would like, however, to ask of you to give me a chance. Come and work for me and I will show you the world as it should be seen by every soul who walks this earth. Here, I shall leave you these matches; the address is on the box. You may choose to come, or not, but if you do you can ask for the director.”
She picked up the matchbox and smiled.
“I shall consider your proposition, but you may keep the matches. I know exactly where to find you.”
The special organisation he had been speaking of was, of course, the London Black Rose, a group of Psychic Immortals who ruled the Fold, a world unseen by Mortal men, yet present all around.
Her gut feeling had told her to trust him, and so she had, for it had never wronged her yet, and a few days later she had gone to meet with him.
By the end of the week, she had been given an apartment in the classier part of town and was wearing fancy clothes to suit her new, fancy job.
The white-haired man who had recruited her went by the name of Lord Daemon and had turned out to be the Head of the London Branch. He was one of the oldest and most respected Immortals in the world, and soon after their first meeting, he had become her lover. The affair had never ended.
The day she had enrolled however, her gut had given her a warning.
Although she knew she could trust Lord Daemon, more than anyone else in the world of crazies she had just entered, the Black Rose Sanctuary was not a sanctuary at all.
When the time came, she knew she would betray them in an instant if she deemed it necessary.
It had taken a couple of decades, but the day the Death order was sent out, and the Purge of all Physical Immortals began, she’d sat down in a very different office than the ones she was used to, the office of a strong and feisty woman with gold bushy hair, matching her golden eyes, called Elisabeth Delroy.
She’d taken the Delacourt Oath, and that was that.
They’d saved hundreds of Physicals since then, securing them, giving them new identities and continuously moving them around so they’d remain undetected by the Black Rose. She continued to work for the Psychics, officially, giving a head's up to the Academy as soon as a group of Resistance was located, so they’d have time to escape. And for a while, things had been looking up - although Elisabeth would scream and yell that it wasn't enough, of course.
But once the Black Rose opened up their special Branch, specifically trained to track, capture, torture and kill Physicals… well, unfortunately, the hundreds they saved each and every year turned into dozens - if that - and in the last couple of decades, well… they were lucky if they saved even one a year.
Sniffers. She knew there was a special place in Hell for them.
Once the Purge had begun, and the Tree of Powers had been poisoned, stopping the birth of all future Physicals, the few that remained had had to be dealt with.
She’d heard Sniffers boast about how they had slaughtered children.
Oh yes. There was a very special place in hell for them, she was sure.
She focused on the man leaning against the wall, wearing plain office clothes under a long navy coat.
He had his eyes closed and almost seemed to be resting, but she knew he was scanning the minds of the people around him, which meant he was looking for someone.
Immortals generally had only one power, but Sniffers were chosen for their innate ability to sense Physicals around them. They could also read the minds of the weaker willed; an ability grafted onto them like an extra limb.
Victoria was technically only there for the baby, but if she could save a Physical at the same time, well, that would really make her year.
His hair was a mess, and his unshaven beard meant he hadn't reported back to headquarters in quite a while. Come to think of it, they were in Carcassonne, which meant the closest Black Rose Sanctuary was in… Marseille? That was a three-hour drive unless he used the teleportation services.
Victoria hated the French Black Rose: they were cold, procedural experts, prone to too much talk and bureaucracy. Even the English hated them, although the Marseille Black Rose did have a better reputation than the Paris ones.
The Sniffer moved, and his head turned in her direction.
Yes. Go on. Look at me.
A-ha.
She’d been right. She had recognised him.
She’d seen him once before, maybe four years back at a seminar in London. He wasn't physically impressive, nor did he have the kind of face to stick in your mind, but he had been personally congratulated by the new Head of the London Black Rose for his work with the Polar Physicals back in Egypt.
She shuddered as she remembered the special chambers.
Polars were
a specific kind of Physical that were so intolerant to heat that their skin would literally peel off if they were exposed to it too long. Once they had been studied to the broadest possible extent, they had been transferred to the desert in Egypt and left to die in the sun.
Not one of them survived longer than a week, and she had wanted to slit the throats of all those who had been a part of the massacre.
This Sniffer had been one of three, organising their termination, turning the deaths of three dozen innocent men and woman into a show, broadcast live on Fold TV, in every Black Rose, forcing them all to watch.
She remembered the pride on his face when the Head of London had shaken his hand.
Yes. No matter how dull the man was, she was never going to forget him.
She smiled at him knowingly, and he understood immediately that she wanted to speak business, following her inside the cafeteria nearby.
She went up to the lady behind the counter to ask for a cup of tea.
With her mug in one hand, Victoria took a deep breath before sitting down in front of him, dipping the tea bag in the steaming water.
“Bloody French, they keep giving me vanilla flavoured hot water, calling it tea. The heresy.”
The Sniffer looked at her curiously as she tasted it and made a face.
“Madame, why are you here?”
She smiled.
“Please, go ahead and read my mind.”
He stared at her blankly for a couple of seconds while she poured the small packet of powdered milk into the water, making an already horrible looking drink look much worse.
He refocused and looked somewhat put out.
“I seem to be unable to do so.”
“Go on.”
“You must have special training, Madame.”
“Yes, which means, if you have guessed correctly, that I am high enough in rank to tell you that the reason for my presence here is classified.”
She touched her ring finger with her right hand, and a ring appeared. It was shaped like a rose, giving off the full blast of a fresh bouquet. A mark she belonged to them - or so they thought.
One of the petals was white, and another red. The others were black.
The man in front of her apologised immediately.
“Madame, forgive me. I should never have asked.”
“You couldn't have known, could you?”
“No, Madame.”
“Your name is… Rayneheart, isn’t it?”
The man seemed surprised she knew it and nodded.
“I saw you years ago at the Head's office in London. You were receiving your badge of merit for your work with the Polars.”
He smiled, and Victoria knew instantly that she had him wrapped around her little finger.
Of course. The only thing Psychics possessed that was bigger than their ignorance and cruelty was their ego.
“May I add that I was very impressed by your work,” she continued, smiling sweetly.
Rayneheart uncrossed his arms and combed his hair back with his fingers. He seemed to relax at her every word. Oh, this was a good sign indeed.
“Well, Madame, I was only doing my duty.”
“Nonsense, you went far beyond your duty, providing some much deserved downtime to a tense Black Rose. Times were difficult, and it was nice to sit back and relax in front of such an interesting show.”
“I don't know how to thank you for your kind words.”
“Well, you could invite me to dinner for a start, somewhere where they make a decent cup of tea. Carcassonne, although very pretty, is bursting with tourists at this time of the year, which is rendering my task very difficult.”
“I would love to, Madame, but I am also on a mission, and my window of opportunity will soon close.”
“I understand… Lord Daemon will be most upset with me if I do not finish by the end of this week.”
“Lord Daemon? The Lord Daemon?”
“Do you know of another?”
The man swallowed and straightened his posture.
“Madame, may I assist you with your task?”
“Why yes, that would be lovely, perhaps we could go to a more secluded place to talk? One where I could get a decent cup of tea?”
“I am currently renting a place outside the castle's ramparts. And I have tea.”
“Lovely!”
Ten minutes later, Victoria was sitting in his car and had lifted up her skirt to reveal the perfect amount of thigh, just enough to seduce without being vulgar.
The man by her side seemed interested, and why wouldn't he be? After all, she was trained in the art of seduction and had fulfilled hundreds of missions using her femininity as a weapon. She was perfect for the job, known throughout the Black Rose under the nickname Monroe. She had swayed the unswayable, from politicians to young princes, old businessman to famous actors. It was her job, and she was good at it. That, and she had a few tricks up her sleeve…
“Pardon my curiosity Rayneheart, but if we are to work together, I need to know what you are capable of.”
“You mean my power.”
“I know I am not allowed to ask directly, but I do not have time to get a hold of my superior and ask for all the information the Black Rose has on you. You do understand, don't you?”
“Of course, Madame. Maybe you could guess what it is instead?”
“That sounds like fun,” she smiled.
“You remember my work on the Polars?”
“Yes of course, who could forget.”
“I was asked to work on their case specifically because of my ability.”
“Go on.”
“Their greatest weakness is my power.”
Great. A Fire Immortal. That's all I need, she thought through gritted teeth and a fake smile.
“I've never been with an Scorcher before,” she said slipping her hand on his thigh and bringing it as close to his crotch as was possible without causing a car accident.
His body was responding wonderfully and when his trousers tightened - she tightened her grip all the more.
“Madame, I am flattered. I thought we were to deal with business.”
“Pleasure first. It was a long plane ride, and I need to unwind,” she purred, thinking of Elisabeth’s words at the hospital.
Rayneheart’s driving somehow increased in speed and before long, he was parking in front of a very dreary looking building. They were definitely far from any tourist area by now, and she couldn't even see the city walls from where they were standing. It was windy - the city of Carcassonne was known to the locals as “the city of two winds” after all, and a helpful gust lifted up her dress slightly, making him blush.
He opened the front door and invited her inside the building. There was no lift, and he was renting on the third floor. Everything looked old, and if the smell inside were any indication, the other tenants were probably older still.
The key stuck in the door but he gave it a push and revealed a cosy looking flat, with shelves covering every wall, full of books of all kinds.
It was small. A single bedroom, a bathroom, and a small balcony connecting the sitting room to the kitchen.
You could see the entire flat no matter where you were inside it, so it was actually quite a smart layout, with no blind spots, but it was not smart for a Fire Immortal to be surrounded by so many books.
“Why are you not following protocol? No offence intended I am just curious as to why a Sniffer would rent amidst the locals. If there were a fight, you would be exposed. Not to mention your power could burn these flats down.”
“Exactly for that reason. I can go perfectly undetected if I blend in. Nobody would think of looking for me here.”
“Who would come looking for you?” she asked him, genuinely curious.
“I have made many enemies since the barbecue in Egypt.”
He seemed pleased with his little pun and was swelling up his chest. Victoria wanted to rip his heart out through his knee caps but forced herself to smile.
“Barbecue? Sniffers and their sense of humour…”
“Originally,” he said, taking off his coat and placing it on the back of the sofa, “we weren't called Sniffers. We were called “Peacekeepers”, but I don’t know, someone gave us the nickname “Sniffers”, and the term stuck. Soon, everyone was calling us that.”
“Really?” she inquired, knowing full well that it had been Elisabeth who’d made the change.
“No way in all the heavens and hells are they going to call them Peacekeepers!” She’d rarely seen her friend so angry and hadn’t dared to ask why that word had been so important to her.
Victoria really wanted that cup of tea and made her way to the Kitchen.
A table and four chairs around it; a fridge, a single cupboard, a kettle and coffee machine, a small sink and microwave… This was definitely the flat of a single, older man.
“Oh yes,” he paused, “are you looking for something?”
“A cup of tea if you don't mind,” she gestured towards the cupboard hoping it was full of her leafy friends.
She removed her jersey placing it on the back of a chair.
“To be honest with you, I haven't thought about Sniffers in years. I thought you would all be out of a job by now.”
“Why?” he asked, inviting her to sit down.
“Well, they’re all gone, aren't they? I mean, except for maybe the odd one…”
“Is that what they are saying behind our backs?” he chuckled, turning on the kettle and bringing out a mug and a collection of tea bags.
Victoria sat down and crossed her legs.
The sun had started to set, turning the outside into a golden painting.
Soon, she thought.
“Well, yes, I mean we know there is the occasional fish that falls through the net, but you’ve taken care of most of them, haven't you?”
“My Branch specialises in Physicals. Trust me: there are many fish and many holes in the net. We also believe that some Psychics are… you know… sympathisers.”
“I have heard the rumour. But with the Mind Readers and the random sweeps though, we should be safe enough.”