Round 6

Jeane’s crimson eyes narrow as the sound of footsteps grows closer upstairs, the dark orb in her palm pulsing faster now. “Fuck.” She hisses under her breath, more to herself than anyone else. The thrill of binding Hera mid-spectacle is gone, replaced by the cold calculation of a threat assessment. Her wings snap taut against her back instinctively, leathery membranes stretching wide before folding back in tight. “Not cops,” she mutters, already running through possibilities. “Too light. Could be curiosity seekers from the neighborhood — or worse.” She turns to Halie and Silra, her expression shifting from annoyance to something more calculating. “You two are right about one thing: we need to move fast. But I’m not sending you out there blind.”

Jeane raises a hand, fingers splayed, and the dark orb begins to spin faster. “Abby,” she snaps, voice sharp enough to cut through the tension, “get your ass over here next to Hera.” The petite woman hesitates for only a second before scurrying across the basement, her wide brown eyes fixed on Jeane with both fear and reluctant obedience. “Good girl,” Jeane purrs, though it’s clear she doesn’t mean it as a compliment so much as a reward for compliance.*

Once Abby is crouched beside the bound Hera, Jeane turns back to Silra and Halie. “You two are going out the back way — through the old priest hole we found last week.” She gestures with her free hand toward a section of wall that looks like any other until you know what to look for. “Take Abby with you. Get her somewhere safe, then come right back here. I want eyes on the street and inside this building simultaneously.”

Before either woman can protest or ask questions, Jeane continues, her voice taking on that dangerous edge that brooks no argument. “I’m going to check out whoever’s upstairs. If it’s trouble, I’ll handle it my way.” The dark orb pulses ominously. “If it’s not trouble… well, we need to know what the fuck is going on in our own church.”*