I cannot blame her for that suspicious look. I’m obviously more tense than a kitty cat in a box full of cucumbers and that’s never a good thing. When she gives me that obvious look, reasonably waiting for more information, I just look at her, dead in the eye. There’s barely anything written on my face for a good long look, then all of a sudden I let a laugh out. Is it truly amusement? Is it some sort of stress? Both, I guess. Not so long ago, I almost started to complain about how boring my life’s becoming in the city. Look at me now. I’m not even sure whether I only need her services or her friendship as well. Yet again: both, I guess.
- His name is Cyrus Wycomb, but since he doesn’t want to be noticed, he probably goes by the name of Edward, so try that. - I pull a palm-sized envelope out of the pocket of my jacket and slip it onto the table. Call me old-fashioned but emails can be hacked, paper cannot. I look somewhat concerned as I’m staring at the small package for a couple of seconds before I’d look at Birdie again. - There’s a photo of him and a list of people whom he might try to get in contact with. Show the list to your assets then burn it. And I mean burn it. There must be not one letter left of those names. - It isn’t a long list, seven or eight people, I don’t want to give away all the names I have in mind right away. Some of them might sound familiar to her. There are some First Witches and seemingly random humans. Well, they aren’t simply humans anymore, but the Chosen Ones aren’t a well-known group yet.
We all know how things work, how they always have been. The weak will always be victims and the strong take what they want. You see, there’s the difference between him and me. I give people power because I’m curious what they’d do with it. I choose based on their potential to lead. But him? Cyrus wants all the power to himself. That’s why he turned on our own during the witch trials in Salem. That’s why he forced himself into the Void almost killing both of us thirtyfive years ago. And I’m hella sure that’s why he’s here briefly after the creation of the Chosen Ones. I slowly open my mouth to finally say something. Something personal, but I trust her and very few can say that.
- We’re… complicated. - Friend inside the enemy, the enemy inside the friend. Over all these years, we've always had the greatest secret of them all. We know each other. He could be my downfall and I could be his, yet nothing’s felt right without him. Life just… lost its color, you know. And now that he’s back? I’m pissed off, that’s what I am. - I should kill him on sight and cut away the knot at the center. But that’s the trouble with hope, huh? It’s hard to resist. - Hope for that color to return? Maybe. - Anyway, back to business. - Before I completely embarrass myself by being a lightweight.

Licsibogyó &&  Birdie

Usually I throw out everyone from the bar if they try to walk in and order something ten minutes before closing. Usually I would slam the door to their faces. But usually those little punks are not my friend type of things .Strangers who don’t care about anything just their own good and will and everyone else can fuck it. Licsi is the same, he only cares about himself like a prick - his words, not mine! - but he does it in a way that’s not in my way. He… is very different type of guest and usually needs something if he shows up unannounced.

I put the next bottle of liquid confidence down to the counter and leaned forward putting my weight to my arms. The last employee is finally left turning the little sign. I really don’t know if it is appropriate for a bar to be closed on a Tuesday afternoon but oh well. For a few seconds I am trying to read from his face but I can’t so I just go around the counter and sit next to him. “Business is strong.” I turn to him, pouring some to myself as well as I look at him suspiciously.

Something is off, I can sense it. The weird bound that we had always showed me when he needed a drinking buddy or when he was serious and right now I feel like I’m gonna be involved to some weird shit. I listen to his words, trying to put everything to place in my head and figuring out a plan already while processing all the information he gives me so far.

“ Okay. “ I nod without question without hesitation. This is how we work, helping each other like it would be the most natural thing in the world. “But do you realize that I am going to need much more details about this nemesis of yours, right?  “ I pour from the bottle again because I drank all of the golden manna while he was talking and I refill his glass too. " You could start with his name."

I have to stop him. I have to find him and I have to stop him. But am I clever enough to do it without spilling a river of blood? The answer might be right in front of my eyes. No, I don’t mean the fifth bottle of Imperial Stout that Birdie’s just put on the table. Oh, son of a bench. Am I really sitting in a bar drinking my problems away because of a fly in the ointment? Unfortunately, my problem’s way more than a fly. Anyway. I glance at the oldest Spellwood and let her know that she can sit with me now, I'm ready to talk. I usually just come and go, popping in and out of the Void, sometimes I stay for a bit, we have a little chat and one, or two bottles of beer, but not this time. This time I’m sitting here with the look of a forking middle-aged, functional alcoholic dad of three whose poster child has just dropped out of school. I still haven’t told Birdie why I’m actually here. I just walked in, ten minutes before the sign on the door would have been turned to CLOSED, sat down, asked for the strongest beer, then the next one, and the next one, and so on.
- How’s the business going? - Anyone would think that I’m politely asking about the place, because as her friend, I want to make sure she’s doing well. But we know better than that, don’t we? I’m talking about the other business. Particularly her network. I like the fact that I never have to explain myself to her. Usually, she knows. She gets it. When I need something, she gets it done. No questions asked. In a sense, we look out for each other. I’m not sure if I can call her my friend, but she’s definitely close. And she’s got something very few does: I respect her. As for her network, I’m not waiting for long after getting an answer.
- There’s a new witch in town. I have unfinished business with him. - I don’t even flinch, but it’s written on my face that I’m about to get her into some deep shit. Cyrus is different. He’s my oldest friend. More than a friend. More than an enemy. This so called unfinished business has nothing to do with the current situation of Washington or the world. This is personal. I’m sure she can see it too. One, Birdie isn’t just smart, she’s street-smart and that means a lot coming from me. Two, I never act like this. Let’s be honest, I usually act like a highborn prick, but now I almost seem vulnerable. - I need you to track him. But you'll have to use humans. This isn't his first rodeo, he'd know someone's after him. I can't exactly "magic" my way out of this. You're in? - Not that she's got too much choice.