Cold Breath

There are two kinds of people in the world. The manipulators, and the manipulated. Caia Trudeaux was the former, and tended to prey on the latter. Sometimes unintentionally, sometimes not. Possessing Syrienne powers, Caia had the ability to use her music or her voice to control people, either by subliminal messages or blatant hypnosis. She could hum someone straight out of their fortune and they'd never be the wiser. She could alter and manipulate the waves of sound around her, to amplify, muffle, or mute them. She could hear things no one else could hear; expand her hearing to hear a sound below, above, or further than normal ears could detect. Caia could hear the difference between lies and truth in the tones of people's voices, which made it pretty difficult for anyone to trick her; unless they were aware of her abilities and were able to alter or shield their voices from her Syrienne ears. And very few people knew about Caia.

One such person, however, was sitting in the back of the smoky tavern room, trying and failing to be inconspicuous. Caia kept her black-rimmed silver eyes half-closed, focusing on the music singing out of her black violin. Her musical ability was impressive in and of itself; she could have earned the tavern owner, and herself, plenty of money even without the little hint of persuasion she added to the notes. But Caia was tired of slaving away in this dim, smoky place and working for the grouchy half-troll tending the bar. Saul was a mean bastard, and Caia didn't take orders well, especially from mean bastards. She had dealt with more than her fair share of them in her nineteen years. At least with Saul it was almost pathetically easy to persuade him into giving her more of a cut from her earnings than he had agreed to. And when he got a little too handsy, a few quick notes and he was cringing from a migraine and then falling fast asleep. Having Syrienne magic had its perks.

After her violin piece was over, Caia set it gently in its case before rising from her stool and stepping to the edge of the stage and smiling. She finished every set with a song, revving up the amount of persuasion she used. The bucket in front of the stage was quickly overflowing with coins. Caia finished her song, bowed dramatically, and hopped off the stage. Saul's huge hairy hand slapped over hers as she bent to retrieve the bucket. Caia looked up, annoyed.

"I count the money first, Caia. You know the rules." Caia gave him a deadly smile. "Sure thing, Saul. You're the boss." She hummed under her breath and he grimaced, massaging his temples. Caia slid a few coins into the palm of her hand as she handed Saul the bucket.

"I don't know why I'm always getting headaches around you," he grumbled. "You're almost more trouble than you're worth."

"Think so?" She nodded to the overflowing bucket in his hand. He pulled his lips back and glared at her. Caia stalked away into the crowd, pulling up a chair at the table where her visitor was sitting. She propped her feet on the table and tossed her straight wing of turquoise hair over her shoulder. "Is that a gun in your pocket, Jervan, or are you just happy to see me?" She snickered. Broderick Jervan gave her a stony stare. He was a Medium who worked for the Aegis Conclave. Saving people, doing good, attending a lot of important meetings with important people. He had once worked alongside Caia's father, but that was a long time ago.

"I need to speak with you, Caia. It's a very urgent matter."

"And here I thought you just missed me." Caia drummed her fingers on the tabletop. She felt something land on her shoulder, and then a loud mew sounded in her ear.

"Hello, Hex." She patted the tiny Hellcat on the head, avoiding his horns. Hex appraised Jervan with shockingly bright green eyes. As expected, Jervan squirmed slightly. Not many felt comfortable under the scrutiny of a Hellcat. Hex's bat-like wings and small sharp horns were covered in the same velvet-soft black fur as the rest of his body. Soft and lovely, but lethal. A bit like Caia herself. Perhaps that's why she felt such a kinship to the little creature.

"I need your help," Jervan went on while Caia scratched Hex under his chin. "What could you possibly need me for?" Caia asked. "I'm just a runaway and a trouble maker."

"It's a matter of some sensitivity."

Caia snorted. "Meaning it has to do with someone wealthy and elite."

Jervan sighed. "Someone has gone rogue, Caia. They're summoning an ice demon to kill off members of the Conclave, and other people of power. Human, non-human, Innate Magic users and Learned Magic users alike."

Caia narrowed her eyes. "Anyone powerful enough to conjure up and control a demon like that the Conclave keeps tabs on."

"I know it. Everyone we've looked at is either clean, or dead."

"So someone got strong enough to pull this off, and the Conclave didn't know."

Jervan nodded grimly. "Or someone we've already checked is impossibly good at cloaking their spells and thoughts."

Caia mulled that over. Summoning a demon was serious stuff on its own. Controlling it well enough to send it after powerful magic users and prevent it from turning on you was practically unheard of. Jervan must be desperate if he was coming to her. Caia had always been reckless and headstrong, not bending to anyone's authority or whims, except for her father's. "I still don't know what you want from me," she told Jervan.

"You're Syrienne. And your talents are quite impressive. I've been tasked with assembling a small team to help me track down whoever is controlling this demon. There will be plenty of risk involved. I'm not sure what exactly we'll have to do to find this person, but I've been told to use any means necessary."

Caia's eyebrows shot up. "The Conclave must be panicked," she said. "They usually try to resolve things as peacefully as possible."

"They are," Jervan admitted. "I'm putting together a rather, unusual group to help me. Your skills could be invaluable."

"I don't play well with others, Jervan. You know that. Find another Syrienne."

"If I could, don't you think I would've asked them? Syriennes are either very rare, or very reclusive. This is serious, Caia. Your father wouldn't hesitate to help."

Rage sparked through Caia's blood. "I know, and that's exactly what got him killed," she snapped. "How dare you say that to me?" She rose, prepared to march out of the tavern, but Jervan caught her wrist. "I'm sorry," he said. "You're right, that was a low blow. But please, Caia, I really need your help with this. I have no idea what we'll be up against or what we'll have to do to stop this. I need people I can trust."

"And you think you can trust me?" Caia scoffed. "I have no love for the Conclave, let alone its leaders."

"But you're not heartless. People are dying. Children are being left orphaned, and sometimes entire families are slaughtered in the attacks. You put up thick walls, Cai. But they're not that thick. Plus, the Conclave will pay you."

Caia grudgingly sat down again. She was familiar with being orphaned. But she wasn't going to let him think her walls were so unsturdy. "How much?" she asked.

"Two million dirua."

"Are you fucking kidding me? The Conclave is willing to shell out that much?"

"If you're willing to help me, then yes."

Caia leaned back in her chair, mind whirring. Getting together with a bunch of goody-goodies to help save the world didn't exactly sound like her idea of a good time, but two million was a lot of money. And, it would get her out of this dump.

"No trying to boss me around," Caia warned. "I have my way of doing things, and I prefer to keep my powers as under the radar as possible from the general public."

"I'll allow you free reign, within reason," Jervan said diplomatically. "Keep your temper in check."

"And Hex gets to come too," Caia added, making no promises about her temper. Jervan eyed the Hellcat warily. Hex stared lazily back. "Fine, you can bring him. But you're responsible for him, and don't let him torment anyone."

Caia smiled brightly. "All right, Jervan. Looks like you've got yourself a Syrienne."