I'm holding my gun on the stupid bitch, and it seems to have penetrated whatever impulse was driving her, because she stops short. I nod approvingly, though once again I silently curse whoever enchanted the crystal that delivered the Language Block onto me along with its intended target. I carefully take out the silver manacles I'd brought, ancient ones, enchanted by competent Sorcerers with enough Blocks to render her entirely helpless so I could finally haul her back to the Council for trial. I toss them lightly to her feet, not letting the gun waver.
She looks downright shocked. The way she's behaved since the beginning, she's acted like she's fighting for her life. Which is probably true, but it's not as if I would just execute her right here. The Council has rules for a reason, not the least of which is avoiding the very people sent to deal with such problems becoming Tainted ourselves. Speaking of which, where the hell is Larson? He was supposed to circle around, but it shouldn't have taken this long.
But it doesn't matter, as the girl's clearly giving up, her face sagging into exhausted defeat. She bends down to put the manacles onto herself, and despite all my training and experience, I relax just the tiniest bit.
Just the realization that it's happened is enough to bring my focus back to razor-sharpness, but it's too late, she's turned her lean into a roll and my instinctive shot only chips the pavement where she'd been. The crazed woman leaps upward smoothly, and before I can bring the gun to bear on her she's got my wrist in one hand, and my second shot goes wide. I have no time for self-derision, as she's going for my throat with her other hand, fingers bent like claws, her eyes wild. I bring my other hand across to try to get a wrist-lock and free my gun hand, but I hear a strange pop-crack sound, and then my own wrist flares into agony, and I hear myself screaming.
I tumble backwards from the force of her rush and we both go down. I'm still screaming but my training kicks in and I twist slightly as we fall, taking her weight on my hip so I don't lose what little breath I'm not already wasting. The gun's gone, and I desperately pull my forearm in front of the hand still reaching for my throat, but she's not as fast as she should be, even through the swimmy haze of pain from my wrist I can see hesitation...she hadn't expected to break my wrist so easily.
Fuck this. I move to capitalize on her uncertainty and Transfigure, growing, stretching, and I can feel my scream change into a pure expression of strength and dominance. I instinctively bring up my hind legs to rake her abdomen open, but she's still hanging onto my broken wrist...ankle, now...so I change the move into a powerful kick and she sails away from me, hitting the alley wall opposite me with a heavy sound. She seems dizzy from the impact, but I can't follow up as I should, I need to manage my injury, so I roll onto my feet and stand, keeping my weight off the bad ankle.
I note with some satisfaction from the blood on her unnaturally white shirt that my kick did wound her a bit, but she only seems mildly inconvenienced by it and being thrown into a brick wall. I've fought demons, and people taken by the Whispers. The former are tough, but they need to take specific forms for that, while the latter are just insanely violent. She's showing signs of both, but she hadn't changed at all other than her known mouse-Imprint. What is she?
Despite my injured wrist...ankle, now...an adult tiger is viscerally terrifying to most humans and even most weaker demons. But she's watching me as I watch her, and she's clearly sizing me up. Fuck me. I consider shifting back and going for the gun she'd ignored, but she's fast enough that she might reach me first, heck, she might just take a bullet or two, and in my human form I'd be no match for her at all, as she'd already demonstrated.
Her eyes dip to the manacles again, and for a moment I think she's actually going to give up, but then she dives for the manacles. I leap forward even as I frantically wonder why would she want them quickly, and then my gut twists as I realize they'd be just as effective on me as her, and then she'd be able to do anything to me...
She gets them in both hands as I swipe, knocking them only half out of her grasp. She fumbles to adjust and I bowl into her with another roar, teeth snapping for her throat, I won't let her take me. Only she topples backwards, her face full of fear, and I hear the snap and see the brief blue flare as she clamps the manacles onto her own wrists, and then there's a strange double impact as I land atop her and the pavement somehow breaks beneath us, except it's not pavement, it's a bed, I'm somewhere else, I've been Conjured without a Vanish and that's flatly impossible.
I spring off of the girl and onto the floor, crouching defensively as I try to figure out what is going on. She's looking around too, wildly at first, but then with less panic and more confusion...it wasn't her?
There's a dark haired man in front of me, sitting at a table...Persian descent if I had to guess. The table has a bunch of mannequin parts in a ballerina costume lying on it, and there's an over-elaborate Seal of Solomon done on the floor under the table in chalk. The mannequin's head is wood, but it's animated...it can't turn to face me, but it's doing its best to look at me, and it seems just as surprised as 'Carter'. The man is regarding me calmly, save for a single barely-raised eyebrow.
"WHAT THE F-" I begin to yell, except it's a roar of course, and a fairly deafening one in the tiny one-room apartment. Everyone winces, even the Persian, and the girl scoots backward to the edge of the bed furthest from me, holding her manacled hands up desperately, palms open and facing me.
"I give up, okay? Please don't fucking eat me, I promise I won't do anything else...I don't think I can!" she pleads, giving the manacles another shake, obvious fear fighting for room with tears of frustration in her eyes. "This whole thing is so fucked I can't even..." The mannequin's eyes swivel to track the girl, and widen even further, cartoonishly so, courtesy of her artificial features.
"Julia?!" exclaims the mannequin. "What happened to you?" 'Carter' takes her eyes off of me for a moment, then does an actual double-take.
"Augusta?" The albino girl looks utterly bewildered now, and I'm not far behind her, though looking closely I do recognize the Klein girl under the mannequin's wooden form. Then my stomach lurches as I realize the Language Block is somehow gone. But she hasn't done anything...so the manacles must be holding. I dearly want to hang on to the combat advantage of my current body, but I need answers, and no one has any visible weapons...
I shift back, and immediately draw my combat knife from behind my belt, 9" of black steel with a wickedly serrated top edge. The extreme double-Transfiguration has helped my wrist a bit...I don't think the bones are broken anymore, but it still feels weak and sore, so I keep the knife in my left hand.
"You two, shut up," I say quietly, and for a wonder, they do. "You," I continue, gesturing at the man with my knife, "kindly explain what the H-...what the fuck is going on here, since it seems clear these idiots don't have a clue." The other women appear only slightly indignant, while the man nods approvingly at my hasty verbal edit, then shrugs, and smiles.
"You wish to have..." his eyes flick to the mannequin briefly "...full disclosure?" asks, quietly. The Transfigured doll frowns, then her eyes widen in alarm.
"Wait, wait...this may be crazy, but I don't think-" she begins, but I ignore her...if she has secrets she's worried about, she should've come clean before.
"Yes, I fucking wish you to disclose everything there is to know about these two and what just happened, that is precisely what I fucking wish."
"...you should use the word 'wish'," continues the animated head resignedly, a bit too late.
"Granted," says the man, in perfectly accented Old Persian. "And that is the Third," he adds in English, stretching his arms languorously.