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[center][i][h1]Sixth Sense[/h1][/i]
[i][h3]Part 7[/h3][/i][/center]

[center][b]Location: American Museum of Natural History, New York City
Time: Late Afternoon[/b][/center]
[hr]

Marie let out a sigh of relief. The day’s excitement was finally coming to a halt. She relaxed her tense muscles, brushed off bits of dust and viscera left behind by floating displays and Ben’s transformations, and took a moment to herself. 

[color=90EE90][i]”Marie?”[/i][/color] Holt’s voice melded with her thoughts, the ethereal and familiar raspy tones soothing her even more. [color=90EE90][i]”Are you alright?”[/i][/color] 

Marie chuckled softly to herself, hoping the others weren’t paying attention. Holt’s concern was always genuine and appreciated, yet, given his stoic nature never ceased to surprise her. 

[color=FFE4B5]”Yes,”[/color] she responded internally, [color=FFE4B5]”I’m fine . . . for now. I’m more concerned about Ben. He’s been through a lot today and he won’t remember a fair portion of it. Can’t be easy living like that, not knowing where you go when you lose yourself.”[/color]

[color=90EE90][i]”It will come to him with time. Such is the way with werewolves. They rely upon instinct. The more he learns about himself, the sharper those instincts will become, not unlike your instincts as Gwyneth, which you have clearly displayed this evening. It is no small feat, compulsion, and to coax a werewolf into its human form . . . that is a power the likes of which I have scarcely seen, certainly not in this century. Have any memories returned?”[/i][/color]

[color=FFE4B5]”No, unfortunately. But the power was familiar; it comes in waves. I can’t imagine what Gwyneth must have been capable of at full strength.”[/color]

It was both an empowering and deeply troubling thought. It occurred to Marie that, aside from the glimpses she had been granted of her former self, she knew nothing of Gwyneth’s character. If she possessed great power, how did she use that power, to what end? 

Marie dwelled on this thought longer than she realized, for her pondering was interrupted by a small knocking on the storage room entrance. This was, undoubtedly, the caretaker Ben had mentioned earlier. He was from the “Agency,” if Marie recalled Ben’s words correctly, an organization about which she knew next to nothing, but one who had a reputation for meddling in the affairs of magical folk. However, seeing as this caretaker was here to help Ben, not contain him, Marie felt no need for animosity. 

[color=FFE4B5]”Holt,”[/color] Marie engaged her familiar silently, [color=FFE4B5]”Go to the Red Devil and bring with you a few of Puck’s imps to help clean up this place. I don’t want him or this Agency thinking that I’m incompetent enough to risk exposure.”[/color]

Holt gave a silent nod before fading into the shadows of the room. As time passed and the group readied to leave the museum, feint whispers filed into the space followed by a slight chill, broken statuettes, pedestals, stone flooring and pieces of the wall slowly being mended by invisible agents of The Red Devil.