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A man hits the ground in front of Autum. Looking at the man she says, “So my guess is you ducked.”
Voice looks at her, pissed, “Your warning could have been more specific.”
“What? And ruin all my fun? Wouldn’t dream of it, pet.”
“Either way, he’s dead.” He takes the man from the floor and throws him into the fire.
Autum pouts, “No fair. I wanted to try. You ruin all my games.”
“Starting to sound a little crazy, aren’t you?”
“It’s fun to be crazy. Everything’s fun when you act it.”
“Whatever.”
“Did you bring me lunch?”
“I only have a soda.”
“Diet Coke?”
“Diet Pepsi.”
“Oh… how long are you going to keep me here? Because orientation starts Monday, and I’ve got to get my stuff out of the apartment.” Autum squirms
“Not much longer, just until we can be certain you’re no longer a threat.”
“You know I could leave if I wanted.”
Voice sighs, “What do you want?”
“Nothing much.”
“What is it.”
“Iced tea, blackberry iced tea.”
“What?”
“I’ve been very co-operative, haven’t I! Did you think I wanted money? I have no use for money.” she grunts at him.
“No! You cannot have tea!” He snapped.
Autum pouts, “Now I’m just getting cross with you.”
“And nobody wants that…” he whispers under his breath.
“Go to Hell! And tell your mum I miss her”
“My mother’s long dead. This you know.”
“Still mean it, ducks.” Voice strides over her and slaps her, leaving a bright red mark on her face. He smacks her again and again until her cheek starts bleeding. Angry, Autum turns to him, pulling on her chains. “Release.” she whispers. Her bonds get warm, which is all that happened.
Voice laughs at the pathetic girl. “Magic proof. You forgot.” He laughs at her.
“No pet, you forgot.”
“What could I possibly forget?”
These chains only ward off modern magics.”
“Latin isn’t modern.”
“It is compared to the old magics.”
“Latin * is * the old magics.”
“Clasmostomph clepomee.” The chains slide easily off her wrists. “Hilopto mann balli.” Her hands start to glow. “Frettrela mochellorch.” She makes the form of a cross in the air, the flames staying in that shape. “Tichicom huboras.” The cross spreads out into a complex form. “Jaham olduichee.” The fire spurts as it writhes and spreads. “Amen.” The makeshift net flies at Voice. He grabs the guard next to him and throws him in the net’s path.
“You gain power from holy chants? What’s next, a pig flying in circles over my head?”
“You should see me at a rock concert.”
“Music, why?”
“Adds strength. Binds the words.”
“I didn’t know that.”
“A lot you don’t know, love.” Autum throws a shock at him, “Try to work on that. GROW.” Roots grow out of the ground and wrap around Voice. As Autum leaves she snaps her fingers. Her coat flies to her.
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