CALAMITY: What about it?
ELISE: I’m wondering why you do it. What it really entails. Also, I guess, how it plays into what you told me about people trying to use you over the years. Thaddeus in particular.
[PAUSE] [FABRIC SOUNDS] [CHAIR LEGS SCRAPING]
ELISE: Oh! Cal, I don’t think—
CALAMITY: I will answer your questions, but only if I get to hold you while I do it. This is part of the deal.
ELISE:…Right. Comfy?
CALAMITY: Yes. Here are the answers to your questions: I do it because it’s my penance. It usually means I keep watch over the city and its surrounding area for danger. I save every life I can — from drowning, assault, house fires, car accidents. It’s all the same. [PAUSE] Lay your head on my shoulder. Yes. I like it when you do that.
[FABRIC SOUNDS]
ELISE: [SIGH] Go on.
CALAMITY: The Mad Sovereign was no different from anyone else, except that he actually had the power to force my hand. For a while, anyway. He wanted me to be a part of his shadow Patrol. In his eyes I would be the perfect assassin and spy. Most people who seek me out think the same. Usually they try to offer money, sex, influence. When that doesn’t work, they resort to threats, then violence. He was the only one who got close to beating me into it. I’ve never felt pain like what that man gave me before or since.
ELISE: Oh, Cal…
CALAMITY: [MUFFLED] Shh, witch. All’s well. He lost his head. My only regret is that I wasn’t the one to take it from him.
* * *
There was no saving the Healing House. Cal knew it the moment he shed his clothes and his physical form to spread himself out to catch the air. He didn’t need to go far to find the blaze.
The Healing House was only about a block down from Elise’s childhood home and it was burning down to its foundations. As he watched, hovering over the blaze, the damaged roof caved in with a crash and a roar of hungry flame. If there were people inside, they were already dead.
Feeling the tight knot of guilt that never let him go, Cal searched the area around the building for survivors before he committed himself to helping extinguish the blaze.
A lone figure lay prone on the brick path leading to the door. Her pastel colored coat stood out starkly against the smoke and debris. Relief surged through him. Not all was lost. He could save one person, at least. It didn’t scrub any marks from his soul, but it didn’t add another one, either.
Cal made to swoop down, intending to pull the woman out of harm’s way, but reared back in surprise when black, faceless shadows melted from the gaps between the houses. One of the black-clad figures — broad shouldered, with a smoky glamour disguising any distinguishing features — knelt by her side and briskly checked her for injuries. More figures knelt down beside her and others stood watch, their backs ramrod straight and their obscured faces turned toward the road.
Sovereign’s Guard.
He could hardly believe what he was seeing. A full squadron — six elves, trained to work in seamless pairs — of the most highly trained, dangerous military force in the UTA were crowded around the fallen woman. No one but the sovereign commanded the Guard. That meant that, whoever the woman was, Theodore Solbourne ordered her surveillance personally.
Cal watched as they relayed information to one another with quick, efficient hand signs, then the figure who had checked for injuries lifted a hand to his ear.
Over the roar of flames and the distant wail of sirens, Cal heard, “Explosion at the Healing House. No combatants. Healer down but alive. Do we extract?”
People were beginning to exit their homes. Terrified neighbors peeked out of doorways and called out to one another from across the street. Somewhere, the wails of distressed pets were joined by a baby.
In a moment, people would begin to venture out in earnest. Already, Cal could hear the fire squad closing in. Would the Guard stay? They were supposed to work in the shadows, never seen except for at the sovereign’s elbow. A full squadron being caught surveilling a Healing House had to be high on their list of things to avoid.
The glamoured voice of the guard was crisp and emotionless when he replied to whoever he spoke to. “Understood. Awaiting further instructions.”
With a sharp gesture, the elf sent the rest of the squadron back into the shadows. Long, loping strides allowed them to disappear in the few seconds it took for the only guard left to gently lift the unconscious woman and deposit her at the farthest end of the path, nearly on the sidewalk. It was far enough away to keep her out of immediate danger from the burning building, but close enough to look as though she landed there on her own.
Carefully, like she was made of something more fragile and precious than spun glass, the guard laid her head on a patch of grass. With a flick of his matte black claw-caps, he made sure her skirt and coat were arranged around her legs in a way that concealed the most possible skin before he too stood and raced back to the cover of shadows.
In all, the entire bizarre scene took less than a minute.
If Cal had his physical form, he would have shaken his head. He never could make sense of the elves or what they wanted. Why not take the woman out of danger entirely? Why arrange her like they did? Why have a full squadron of elite soldiers watching her in the first place?
It didn’t sit right with him, but he didn’t have the time to consider what it all might mean. As a human neighbor raced over to help the fallen woman, Cal turned his attention to the burning house. He’d seen enough over the years to know that flames had a mind of their own, particularly in a magic saturated city like San Francisco. They could jump and weave and come back to life without any warning. If the blaze wasn’t handled soon, it could consume the entire neighborhood, if not the whole city.