The robed figure slid bonelessly to the ground, blood from the impact streaking the streetlight behind it and beginning to seep from the shattered body. The smell of burned rubber and screeching tires competed with car horns as motorists slammed on the breaks as the SUVs roared around the corner and down the access road that led from the airport towards downtown and the accompanying freeway ramps. People gaped at the sudden and shocking wreckage and many were on cellphones either calling 911 or filming the scene. 

The robed figure paid them no mind. Vessels were of little importance. His own vessel still lived, though his shattered back would have made the short remainder of his life an agony. No matter, vessels suffered, it was what they were made for after all. It didn't matter, all that mattered was the Fathers plan, and nothing as insignificant as human life or human frailty could be allowed to interfere with that goal. Black filaments began to spread through the dying figure, burrowing through flesh and coiling around blood-slicked bone like parasitic fungi. The robe obscured the writhing contorted flesh beneath as the figure, as though drawn by an obscene puppet master, stood jerkily, its back twisted at an unnatural angle. The vessels mouth opened as if to scream but speech was not permitted to it. 

With an ugly scuttling speed, the thing leaped over the chainlink fence that ringed the airport like a grotesque toad. Bones crunched and tendons popped, unnecessary now that its true nature had come fully awake. The thing, wearing the corpse of an emaciated man like the cast offs of a rag pickers barrel, blurred across the airstrip at astonishing speed, the flesh of its feet tearing off and leaving a bloody trail across the tarmac. The way the curve of the road bordered the airport allowed it to cut the cord of an arc with its prey, closing the gap faster than seemed possible. The back of its robes ripped apart as dozens of long filamentous appendages, each sharp as obsidian blades, erupted from the ruinous rent in the vessels back. The Father wanted the sister of the apostate, and his plan would not be balked by these interlopers.

_____________________________________________________________________________

It was all very well for Manny to talk about shooting, I was not her strong suit, but the point was moot in any case. Ellie's own weapon, a silver plated Colt 1911 that her former mentor had used to kill himself, was still locked in her carry case, forlornly circling the baggage carousel in Portland Jetport. Fortunately, the rest of the team supplied the lack. Bullet cracked around her as she gripped the seat tightly. It was a stunning escalation in a public place. It felt like a botch by their opposition. Well it was only a botch if they survived she supposed.

The SUVs were coming off the access road and pulling onto the main streets of Portland, behind them smoke coiled lazily into the air from the vehicles Malone and Kennedy had so neatly disabled. Sirens sounded in the near distance, not surprising given the proximity to the airport. That might be a problem later but later would have to take care of itself.

The phone in Manny’s pocket chirruped with Morgan’s smooth silky voice, presumably giving directions. In the background there were confused sounds of pain. In Ellie’s witch sight, dark energies swirled and eddied in chaotic currents. Some of it was focused on Morgan’s car, ahead and to the right, but a much darker thread throbbed malignantly to the left. It drew her eye as surely as a moth was drawn to a flame.

A creature, wreathed dark magic and some sort of black glass like tendrils, leaped over the barrier fence which separated the airport from the road. It landed on the hood of a blue prius following close behind Morgan’s SUV. The windscreen starred to opacity immideatley as the front of the car deformed under the impact. With a crunching jolt the tendrils thrust the thing away from the ruined car as though it were springboard. Ellie could see the airbags exploding into the faces of the passengers as the shattered hybrid spun away. 

The thing, whatever it was, landed atop the SUV, though without the sort of momentum that had crushed the unfortunate prius. It balanced against the speed by spearing the razor liked filaments into the top of the vehicle. More tendrils drew back and drove at the ceiling like a mass of glistening spears. Golden sparks geysered skyward as the thing struck some sort of mystic shield, Leon’s work she presumed. It struck again, and again, howling in frustration and hate, but unable to shatter the defensive barrier. 

Ellie stared for a heartbeat longer in morbid fascination before she tore her attention away. With a gaelic curse she tore off her seatbelt and scrambled ungracefully over the backseat into the rear of the SUV. Most of her supplies were langishing uselessly in her checked baggage but no practitioner ever traveled completely unprepared. Tearing open her handbag she emptied the contents onto the floor in a clatter of make up and personal items. The vehicle swerved again driving her body against the side of the car. Wincing she snatched up a tube of black lipstick, a relic from an earlier goth phase, and hastily scribed a circle around herself in the back of the speeding vehicle. It wasn’t a great circle geometrically, but it was the idea that mattered. The air took on a peculiar quality as the magical energy intensified.

Normally Eleanor didn’t trouble herself with chanting and circles, at least not in public, but what she was about to attempt wasn’t a thing for half measures. The chant spilled from her lips in smooth liquid syllables. As the chant built she felt the attention of the thing on the other SUV, it could sense her, even over the magical noise of the shield. A very bad sign that. Taking a deep breath she drew a brooch from her jacket and thrust the pin into the ball of her thumb. A drop of blood, scarlet and potent welled up from the punchred flesh. She pressed it  to her forhead, smearing it with scarlet. Then she closed her eyes.

Madeline’s eyes blinked shut for a long moment before opening them again with a snap. Her irises, previously brown, were Tregellan’s brilliant green. Another blow hammered the top of the SUV. One of the windows cracked and went opaque as it gave way. Madeline turned to Leon, the most decisive action the woman had made since Ellie had kissed her.

[b]“Morgan, there is some sort of construct on the roof,”[/b] the voice was Madeline’s but the intonation and slight accent were Ellie’s. It was awkward and stilted speech as though Madeline were learning to talk for the first time.

[b]“Leon, can you extend…”[/b] her voice trailed off as her eyes fell on the wounded Malone. Her head swiveled with the graceless jerk of a puppet back to Leon.

[b]“Status.”
[/b]

Privileged Information

[hider=Kennedy]
As the vehicle you disabled spins out, you catch a glimpse of a decal in the back window. It looks like a wave made up of three blue stripes. Although you don't recognize it you could certainly draw or describe it. It has the look of a coperate logo to your eye but you cant be sure in the chaos.
[/hider]