Flazie’s wail undulated through the air like a living thing. It slithered, undiminished, across the old woman’s wards and sought out its target. Flazie felt the fear ripple through the boy’s family. They were descended from an ancient line of light-workers and the power was in their blood, but it had been too long since they faced a real enemy.
Flazie smiled to himself. In the old days, he would have enslaved them when the battle was over, but he needed to make a point. She had to see that he meant business. The Celts had to die and they would do so screaming her name. Flazie nodded. Their blood on her hands was enough to reign her in. To bring her back to him.
“Stop it!” the anguish in her voice made him shiver with glee. The boy and his kin were doomed. Her heart was soft and she was not the type of person on which to risk a legacy.
He let out another wail. This one was stronger, darker, and laced with malice.
“No!” the boy cried out this time. “Stay put!”
Flazie chuckled quietly as they argued. Foolish boy. She didn’t listen to words,only feelings. A good smack would make her feel fear. It would make her stay put. But the boy was weak. Of course he was, his tribe allowed women to lead.
Their bickering ended abruptly.
Flazie nodded again.
The door to the boy’s apartment flew open and she slowly stepped into the hallway.