Intriguing Conversation

The sudden, surging strength of Gannon’s feelings for Artemis startled him as he prepared to board the airplane. Artemis gave him a quick, soft kiss. He smiled a bit at the affection; it was something he had nearly forgotten. “Please don’t get killed, you crazy Rogue,” she commanded him with a small smile. He could tell that she didn’t want to let him go. He had considered her words of the night before. He had even considered letting her come along to help. But now that he was so attached, he did not dare to let her go. She could and, if Pandora figured it out, would be killed.

With a deep sigh and new worries, he gave Artemis a longing glance and boarded the airplane. He mostly slept uneasily as he flew. The flight attendant gave him meaningful glances and continually asked if he needed anything. He was too distracted to humor her. He just shook his head, without expression. Above all, though, he hated flying. He did not fear it, but man had been created with feet. Something born without wings was not meant to fly.

When he had landed in the airport, he rushed to the train station, in the pouring rain, to get a ticket to the England Rogue base. It was in a remote location, which was a bit of a nuisance and a blessing. It did not call unnecessary attention to its sturdy and impenetrable walls, but it was too far out of the way of many of the hotspots for demon activity. Soaked with fresh rain and smelling a bit like dampened soap, Gannon bought his train ticket. He was grateful that it was a remote journey. There were only a few other passengers, none of which were very intriguing.

Gannon sat down, quite alone and quite silent, after putting his bag in the overhead storage above the seats he had chosen. He had an unusual talent for remaining patient, but it was wearing thin. The flight had been tedious. Gannon could only imagine how long a train ride through the countryside would take. He could not complain too much, though; he much preferred train tracks to metal wings. He carefully slipped out of his soaked jacket. No sooner had he put it overhead with his things, with a frown because he had probably ruined his only good jacket, had someone tapped him lightly on his shoulder. It took a great deal of Gannon’s control to not go for a knife in his bag; over the years, he had become talented at working things past security in airports. Instead, however, he managed a friendly expression as he turned around.

“Is this seat taken?” a young woman, who was nowhere damp as Gannon, asked in a lovely voice without the British accent he thought she might have. He would have rather been sitting by himself; it would make it a great deal easier to brood in silence without being asked to partake in meaningless conversation. However, Gannon had learned that people could tell you a great deal if you only listened. He shook his head and offered her the window seat, always the gentleman. She laughed a bit and declined.

Gannon was being nagged by a sense of familiarity as he looked over at her. Her board-straight, sheen black hair ran past her shoulders. Her eyes were as green as emerald and just as beautiful. She was in a simple summer dress, in a color that matched her eyes, and comfortable looking sandals; to Gannon she looked as if she were from the country and she smelled distinctly of the rain and flowers. She noticed his attention and smiled. “Have we met before, miss?” he asked her gently. She tilted her head to one side and studied his face before shaking her head.

“Not that I know of, sir.” Afterwards she outstretched her hand and, with an open, charming smile, “Since we may or may not have met, my name’s Kaela Saint-Claire and it’s a pleasure to meet you….” She trailed off, looking at Gannon expectantly. He smiled a bit.

“Gannon Kerwin and it’s a pleasure to make your acquaintance as well,” he finished for her with a soft shake of her hand. He hated the custom of shaking hands with women, for they deserved more than that, but Artemis had long admonished him for the practice of kissing the hands of all the women he met; she called the practice old-fashioned and eccentric at best. Her grip was strong and for a moment their eyes locked, but then both of them relaxed; she was no enemy of Gannon’s. Kaela smiled and he released her hand, unsure of what to say to her. He decided to let her talk; he was at his best when he was listening.

“May I ask why you are heading to the countryside of England?” she asked, her tone as lilting and musical as before. Gannon calculated an answer calmly. He was a good actor, he always had been. He had to get close to that which he hunted, requiring a range of qualities that he had mastered over the years. Most of all, it required a great deal of charisma, something Gannon had an abundance of.

“A dear friend lives there. He is also a fine businessman. My own business is failing at the moment, so I intend to ask for a bit of a high-risk loan. If he can manage to lend me a bit, I may be able to get the business back on its struggling feet,” he answered with a soft, sorrowful smile, playing the part of bankrupt businessman. Kaela nodded sympathetically, her eyes compassionate.

“I’m sorry to hear that your business is struggling so. What do you do, if you don’t mind me asking?” she inquired lightly. Gannon’s plan of listening was not working as smoothly as he had intended; Miss Saint-Claire was asking more questions than he liked to answer. He did not, however, want to inspire any suspicions. He could never be too sure about who had demons for allies, as paranoid as he knew it was.

“My company deals with the arts. We make reproductions of the great works of art that have graced us through the ages. We tend to twist them towards modern art, I must say, but they do fetch a nice price. The problem is, our task force is somewhat small and our clients grow impatient. We have not the money for supplies or those who work for us. I am ashamed to say that I am not the best manager,” I told her, feigning something like embarrassment or shame. She smiled gently, comfortingly.

“You hardly strike me as the business type. I would love to see a nice piece of art. These times bring about so many things uninspired,” she said wistfully, her eyes somewhat sad. Gannon noted her longing with a bit of longing on his own part. He did miss his time with the great Roman Empire, however shortened it had been.

“Should I take that as a compliment?” he asked with a flirtatious smile. Kaela laughed at his lovely smile and blushed a bit. “You did not mention why you are venturing into the countryside, Miss Saint-Claire,” he said afterwards; he would rather hear her stories than make up stories of his own.

“Take it as you will, dear Gannon,” she said with a playful grin. “Have you forgotten the season? Christmas is in only a few hours, you silly man. I’m off to visit my dear mother. She adores the countryside, you know. So she had the crazy idea of Christmas in this part of England.” She rolled her eyes with an expression of exasperation. Gannon laughed a bit; his own mother had been that way, strong-willed and stubborn. He felt a bit guilty, then, for leaving Artemis alone for the holiday; perhaps, he thought, he should call and apologize.

“Mothers,” Gannon said with his own annoyed expression. Kaela’s eyes searched his for a moment before she spoke again.

“Have you no family of your own, Gannon Kerwin? Perhaps you need a family to celebrate the season with? I’m sure my mother would have no objections,” she said, with a bright, inviting smile. Gannon smiled at her thoughtful gesture, but did not wish to interfere with someone’s life, someone he had only just met. He decided to decline the offer as nicely as he could, not wishing to hurt her feelings or offend her.

“My friend and I are celebrating a little, I do believe. I would hope, anyway. I thank you graciously for the offer though. It is very sweet of you,” Gannon said with a genuine tone of appreciation. Kaela smiled. He continued, “What is it that you do, Miss Saint-Claire? You have heard of my profession. What should I think that you do?”

“You should think me a healer and part-time singer. Nothing too big with the singing yet, but I hope for more when I am a bit more experienced,” she said with a small smile. He nodded in acceptance; he thought that her voice sounded perfect for producing music. The only thing that did not sound right to him was her use of the word ‘healer.’ He knew a healer; you could feel a healing aura. Kaela did not have one.

“Healer as in doctor?” Gannon asked, pretending to be naïve. She smiled.

“I like to fancy myself as a magical one, Gannon. Though by the look in your eyes, I can tell you would not think me one. In fact, you seem a bit no-nonsense,” she said with a small, amused laugh. He was a bit unnerved that she could sense his disbelief and skepticism. Perhaps he was gauging too far into her reaction? He let none of his discomfort show, however, and kept a pleasantly intrigued face. “Do you believe in magic, Gannon?”

“It depends on what kind,” he confirmed with a nod. Then, feeling uncomfortable all around with the subject of healing, he changed the topic. “I knew you had the perfect voice for singing. Call it a man’s intuition,” he commented with a deal of flirtatious charisma. Kaela smiled and let a little laugh escape her lips. Again a sense of familiarity washed over him, plaguing him. He, again, did not let such things show.

“You flatter me, Gannon,” she said with a gracious smile.

A voice came over the intercom, signaling their arrival at the train station. Gannon’s veins sung with the rush of adrenaline. He would succeed; he had to succeed. He anxiously pushed his hand through his dampened hair. Kaela watched him with a small smile at the corner of her lips. Her scrutiny bothered Gannon a bit. However, he brushed it off and thought instead of the Dark Queen he would be driving a knife into. He had to hold back a cruel laugh.

“Were you lying about the art business?” Kaela asked as he grabbed his things from the overhead compartment. She saw something of his suspicions swimming in his eyes. However, it was quickly replaced with an expression of innocent confusion, making the young woman wonder if she had even saw the suspicion at all. He draped his jacket over his arm with a frown and slung his bag over his shoulder.

“I should think not, Miss Saint-Claire. I tend to be more honest to strangers, really,” he said with a soft smile. Inside, he was worried. Who was this woman? Why would the familiarity not leave him? However, any chance he had to stop and question her further was thwarted as both walked towards the exit of the train. Before she took off completely, in a car that had an elderly driver waiting for her with a sign, she turned to face Gannon.

“Have a nice holiday, Gannon Kerwin. May your trip be merry,” she said, sincerity evident in her voice. He nodded and, with an unmistakable show of his old-fashioned character, bowed. He watched the car take off to wherever Kaela’s mother may have resided. Gannon turned his attention to more important matters, like the matter of Pandora Dark.