Precognition
Trouble was quickly becoming Imogen’s new normal, in almost every sense of the word. And the worst part was, she wouldn’t trade it for the world.
That said, being around people still weighed on her, so, as much as she yearned to spend more time with her friends (she had friends!), her time was limited by her tolerance for headaches.
Laudna was the exception, of course.
The best way Imogen had been able to describe it to her was as if she were on a different wavelength. Like a radio stuck on a station that exclusively played your least favorite song, then finally switching over to a new station that broadcast the most beautiful symphony you ever heard.
“That’s a very artistic explanation, Imogen,” Laudna complemented her one day, as they made their way down the sidewalk side-by-side. “But that has to be an exaggeration, surely. I wouldn’t wish being trapped in my head on my worst enemy.”
“Every word of it’s true,” Imogen insisted in return. “I don’ know how t’ explain it properly, it’s like explainin’ color t’ a blind person. Really, y’ sound absolutely amazin’. Indescribable.”
Laudna flushed at that, turning an elegant royal purple color that Imogen wanted to paint on the inside of her eyelids.
“Oh… thank you,” she smiled shyly. “Nobody’s ever said anything that kind to me before.”
“Then they’re stupid, or blind, or both. You’re great, you’re probably my favorite, t’ be honest.”
“Imogen…”
It suddenly sank in how passionate she was getting, and she immediately cut herself off. She’s gonna know, idiot, she scolded herself.
“Sorry, got a li’l carried away there,” she laughed nervously.
“No, no, it’s fine, I just…”
Laudna anxiously ran her fingers through her hair, twisting it around her fingers as if trying to tie them down. “I’ve never been… there’s never… well, er… there’s never really been anybody around to compliment me, I suppose. Besides Pâté, and he’s just an extension of me anyway.”
“Did I ‘ear some’un say m’ name?”
Despite having been sternly ordered to remain out of sight, the little rat corpse tied to Laudna’s magic poked his raven-skull-head out of Laudna’s purse, his empty eye sockets looking up at the two of them with as much excitement as two empty voids could muster.
“Pâté!” Laudna scolded him, stuffing him back down. “I told you, we’re in civilian clothes! If you show yourself right now, Imogen’s identity is busted!”
“But it’s real cramped ‘n ‘ere!” Pâté complained. “An’ yer tube ‘a lipstick keeps gettin’ shoved inta my ass!”
“Then move it out of your way!” Laudna insisted. “And anyway, you’re a corpse! A silly little tube of lipstick shouldn’t be causing you any problems you can’t learn to deal with on your own!”
“But ain’t you a corpse too?”
“Yes, but I’m not getting repeatedly poked by a tube of lipstick!”
“’Zactly wuh ‘m sayin’!”
Laudna sighed in affectionate frustration. “I’m so sorry, Imogen, I need to get away from prying eyes so I can deal with this little idiot. Are you alright on your own for a while?”
“I’ll be fine,” Imogen assured her, trying not to outwardly react to her stomach immediately dropping in disappointment.
Laudna gave an apologetic smile before quickly retreating into the nearest alleyway and dissolving into shadow, leaving Imogen standing alone in the streets of Jrusar.
She shouldn’t be feeling like this. She wanted to spend every moment she could with Laudna, but the more she did, the harder it got to pretend that this was just a crush. A crush, she could handle. A crush, she’d dealt with before. But now…
Laudna didn’t deserve this. Didn’t deserve someone thinking about her like this. Didn’t deserve Imogen. All she was was some depressed, dysfunctional loner with privacy issues.
God, she needed a therapist.
Shaking her head, Imogen continued down the street, hands stuffed into her pockets and mental walls as fortified as she could manage. She hadn’t even begun her shift yet and she already had a headache. Internally, she winced at how torturous tonight was going to be.
The more Laudna saw of Imogen post-work, the more insistent she’d been getting at helping her relax a while beforehand. It was feeling more and more like Laudna was making it her goal to alleviate as many of Imogen’s issues as possible, and it was starting to make Imogen feel increasingly guilty for taking up so much of her time. There were so many other people out there that could use Laudna’s relentless optimism and drive to help anywhere she could. Imogen didn’t deserve any of this.
She winced instinctively as she rounded the corner of the staff entrance of Corkscrewed, the hellhole she had sold her soul to in exchange for a living wage. It was typical behavior for her by now, but she still received concerned looks every time it happened.
“Stop me if you’ve heard this one: you should really go see a doctor about those migraines,” her coworker, Evelyn, spoke up, her long, messy brown ponytail swinging over her shoulder as she turned to meet the other woman. “Seems like it’s getting worse every time you come in. Normal migraines are one thing, but this…”
“Thanks, Ev, but it ain’t gonna get any better, trust me,” she replied. “I been t’ doctors about it before, they can’t do nothin’ for it.”
“Then find another job!” she insisted. “We’ll get by fine without you.”
“Thanks for th’ vote a’ confidence in m’ skills.”
Evelyn sighed. “You’re really intent on torturing yourself, aren’t you?”
“Yeah, let’s go with that.”
“Okay, okay, I get the hint, I’ll drop it for now,” Evelyn conceded. “But you know me. This is definitely not over.”
“Yeah, yeah, I know:”
It was starting to get truly unbearable when Laudna walked in.
Imogen immediately knew it was her by the light twinkling of concern drifting through the air like the scent of freshly baked cookies, something that didn’t really show up in a place like this. She looked up from where she was leaning against the wall, fighting to keep her eyes open, as Laudna’s gaze fell on her.
With a worried smile, Laudna shuffled through the crowd and perched on one of the bar stools, studying Imogen closely.
“Darling, I say this with all the love in my heart: you look like death.”
A pained chuckle bubbled up Imogen’s throat. “Compared t’ how I feel, that’s a compliment.”
She actively ignored how Laudna’s pet name made her heart flutter. Given how tired she was, it was easy not to react outwardly.
“Do you have a break or anything that you can use to get some rest?” Laudna asked. “You need a little respite, clearly. I want to help.”
“Go take your fucking break, Imogen!” Evelyn’s voice called from out back.
“See? Even your coworkers agree with me!”
Imogen sighed, rolling her eyes. “Y’all ain’t takin’ no for an answer, are ya?”
“Nope.”
“…fine.”
Laudna grinned and pumped her fist in victory, a gesture that was so adorable Imogen had to fight to maintain her playfully stubborn frown.
Imogen shuffled out back to gather her stuff, grinning to herself, but before she could rejoin Laudna, Evelyn approached her with a mischievous smile curling across her lips.
“That’s the infamous Laudna, eh?” she said. “The one you never shut up about? She’s cute.”
A blanket of heat immediately descended across Imogen’s face like a rainstorm. Was she really that easy to see through?
“Uh…” she stuttered, “I… I hadn’t…”
“Hadn’t noticed, yeah, sure. Go, relax, and don’t you dare come back before your hour’s up.”
A little dazed, Imogen made her way back out and around the bar, a smiling Laudna awaiting her with an outstretched hand. Imogen reached out to thread their fingers together, but rather than leading her out of the bar, a worried look crossed Laudna’s face before she pressed her free hand against Imogen's forehead.
“Darling, are you alright?” she asked. “You’re burning up.”
“Oh, no, nothin’s wrong…” Imogen replied. “Jus’… somethin’ Evelyn said, ‘s all.”
“What did she say?”
Shit, shouldn’t’ve brought that up.
“She was… uh… she was jus’ bein’ a little flirty.”
Nope. Wrong thing t’ say, dumbass.
Laudna raised an eyebrow, a playful grin spreading across her face.
“Is that so?” she said. “Are you interested?”
“I… well… uh…”
Laudna’s smirk vanished as she quickly glanced around the bar, seemingly remembering that they were still surrounded by people.
“Never mind, answer me in a few minutes,” she said. “Come on, let’s get you somewhere quieter.”
Before today, Imogen had never visited the Jrusar river, and in retrospect, she had no idea why. It was a pretty spot, but not quite standout, meaning it wasn’t a huge draw for tourists, and there weren’t any major businesses or buildings nearby, so it was pretty much chronically empty.
The two of them stepped out of the darkness below the bridge that stretched across the water, with Imogen immediately shaking off the unsettling feeling that always accompanied Laudna’s shadow travel.
“Here, there’s a little bench down by the waterfront,” Laudna told her, gesturing towards the shore. “We can sit down and talk a little bit. If you want to, that is.”
“No, no, I could probably use it,” Imogen admitted. “Been a pretty exhaustin’ day.”
“Why do you still work there?” Laudna asked, gently helping Imogen over to the small stone bench before sitting down next to her. “It’s clearly detrimental to your mental and physical health.”
Imogen sighed, burying her face in her hands. “Used t’ think it was worth it for the feelin’ it gave me after,” she explained. “Of soarin’ through the sky, feelin’ freer than I think I ever have. But… I dunno anymore.”
“Are you staying for Evelyn?”
Imogen felt like she’d been hit in a drive-by. “Huh?”
“Evelyn. You said she was flirting with you. Do you like her?”
The perfectly calm and frustratingly unbothered look on Laudna’s face was a stark contrast to Imogen’s flushed and tomato-colored one.
“I… no!” she forced out. “Evelyn, she… I… I don’ like her like that!”
“Oh, well that’s fine too,” Laudna said simply. “I’ve never dated before, but I hear it can get complicated, so I understand not wanting that in your life, especially after just being in Jrusar a few months now.”
A question formed on Imogen’s lips, but she bit her tongue to hold it back. Laudna’s brow furrowed, evidently having noticed Imogen wincing in pain.
“Are you all right, darling?” she asked.
“…yeah, jus’ th’ headache,” Imogen lied. “It’ll go away in a sec. Don’ worry ‘bout me.”
Laudna affectionately rolled her eyes, gently reaching over and entwining her fingers with Imogen’s where they were perched on her knee.
“Imogen, as long as you’re around, I’ll always worry about you,” she cooed. “You’re probably my best friend, you know that? Even more than Orym, or Fearne, or Ashton, or even Pâté. You’re the most important person in my life. Worrying about you has been in my nature since the moment you told me your real name.”
Imogen’s entire body immediately screamed to lean forward and meet Laudna’s lips, and it took every last ounce of willpower she had to hold herself back.
“I… you… I think I feel th’ same,” she managed to articulate with what little higher thought processes she still retained.
Laudna smiled, then wrapped an arm around Imogen’s shoulders and gently pulled her flush against her side, making Imogen feel like she was going to pull a Fearne-level spontaneous combustion.
“Just relax, alright?” Laudna said, practically a whisper. “Everything will be okay.”
You’re probably my best friend, you know that?
Those words echoed through Imogen’s mind for weeks after their conversation, stuck in her subconscious like a car stuck in mud spinning its wheels. It made her feel hollow in a way she chose not to think about, although she knew beyond a shadow of a doubt (good one, Imogen. Shut the fuck up) that it was definitely going to come back to bite her.
Best friend.
Why did that have to hurt so much? What was wrong with her?
God, she needed a therapist.
She hated it, but she spent the next couple days avoiding Laudna. Whatever this was, she needed to get it under control before something stupid happened and she ruined everything.
Any progress she’d made during that time was immediately thrown out the window when the Hells were all assembled for a mission.
“A rogue telekinetic, as far as we can tell,” Orym explained, gesturing towards the news feed on the monitor. “Their face is covered, so we don’t have any means of identification, but they’re tough, from the looks of it. The Cobalt Soul’s usual methods of containment haven’t been working, but we can’t work out why. It’s possible they have some level of inside information.”
“Inside information from the Cobalt Soul?” Chetney spoke up. “That’s possible?”
“That’s the problem, Chet. We can’t be sure,” Orym told him. “Until we can get an ID, this person is an unknown.”
As the two of them exchanged questions and answers, Imogen absentmindedly found herself drifting towards Laudna, who reached out to place a hand on her forearm and startled her back to reality.
“Darling?” she said. “What’s wrong?”
Imogen blinked, then plastered on a smile. “Jus’ spacin’ out a little, I guess,” she mumbled.
“Imogen, you don’t have to lie to me.”
Imogen’s gaze shifted away from Laudna, the way one might look away from the midday sun. She took a slow breath, her smile crumbling as all pretenses faded away.
“I know,” she admitted. “It jus’ feels like y’ve got better stuff t’ do than deal with me.”
“Imogen…”
“We’ll talk ‘bout it later, yeah?”
Without waiting for a response, Imogen walked off towards the door, following on the heels of Orym as he gestured for everybody to move out.
“Laudna’ll be transporting us to the scene, she saw where we needed to go,” he announced. “Everyone be ready, we have no idea the extent of this person’s abilities, or even where they specifically are at the moment.”
Everyone nodded as they stepped into the shadows cast by the doorframe. Laudna gave one last glance at Imogen, then raised her hands as the shadows rose to meet them all.
A few seconds of familiar cold tingles were followed by the assault on Imogen’s senses that was the explosion of a car, joined by the sound of bullets whizzing through the air. Imogen instinctively held her hand up, causing a hail of bullets to freeze several feet in front of the group.
“Fan out, eyes peeled!” Orym yelled. “On your toes, people!”
Both Imogen and Fearne lifted into the air as Chetney shifted into his wolf form. He, Orym, and Ashton all split up and went opposite directions as Laudna remained behind, steeling herself as shadows arced across her form.
Imogen examined the whole area, trying to spot this mysterious figure, but saw nothing. With a deep breath, she closed her eyes and reached out with her consciousness, and was almost immediately met with a strange sensation.
“Guys,” she said, “I think they’re ‘bout t—”
She was interrupted by a blur streaking across the pavement, glancing off Chetney and Ashton before colliding with Laudna and knocking her to the ground. It coalesced into a tall, lithe figure in a full black bodysuit, a mask covering their face, their short, amethyst-colored hair rippling in the breeze alongside a simple, waist-length leather jacket.
“Fuck!” Ashton called out. “Hits like a fucking truck!”
The figure flickered their wrist, and a reddish energy swirled between their fingers before solidifying into a glowing katana of solid energy. They slashed downward at Laudna, but she sank into the shadows beneath her before it could connect.
Distractions, they thought, their subconscious echoing across the edges of Imogen’s mind. You have one target. The others are inconsequential.
They lifted their gaze, settling sternly on Imogen’s drifting form above them. You can hear me, can’t you? they projected towards her. You’re a smart girl. You know who I was sent to draw out, don’t you?
Me.
Imogen wasn’t sure how she knew, or how she could feel so certain, but as she stared into the figure’s eyes, there was a spike in the back of her mind, and she knew.
From behind, Orym charged the figure, sword to the side as he prepared to slash. He leapt at them as he arced his blade up and over his shoulder before bringing it down towards their torso. At lightning speed, the figure spun around, their sword arm spinning through the air fast enough to cause a whistle to echo across the field as it countered his attack with a burst of sparks.
“You’re quick,” they said simply, their smooth and measured voice resonating with a clear English accent. “I think I like you, little man.”
“Don’t call me little,” Orym growled back. “I’m the goddam Green Knight, and don’t you fucking forget it.”
With a twirl, Orym spun away from the figure’s blade, performing an almost-perfect ballerina-like spin as he slammed his entire weight into their side, knocking them backwards several feet.
As they regained their balance, Ashton body-slammed then from behind, sending both of them skittering across the street several yards. The figure spun around like a top, their knee colliding with Ashton’s ribs and sending him rolling away with a groan.
They leapt to their feet, winding up to dash away, but their jacket was snagged by Chetney’s claws digging into the leather. He pulled them backwards, yanking their feet out from under them and throwing them back to the ground and onto their back.
They once again went to leap to their feet, but the shadow they cast began to stretch and twist before two pale hands reached out and wrapped around their torso, pulling them back to the ground. Laudna’s face momentarily surfaced in the strange bog of darkness before resubmerging and dragging the figure down behind them. A moment later, the shadows beneath a nearby car twisted and contorted as the figure was launched out, slamming into the undercarriage and collapsing back to the ground.
From her perch above the field, Imogen reached out before swiping her arm downwards, breaking the car’s axles and burying the figure in metal. She then yanked her arm backwards, and the car skittered across the street, dragging the figure across a series of sharp rocks and shattered pavement.
With a burst of crimson energy, the car was launched upwards like a rocket, but before it could fly too far away, it froze in midair as Imogen caught it with her mind. She twisted her wrist, yanking open the gas cap and siphoning the entire tank of gasoline out into the air. She waved her hands, sending the gas snaking towards the figure before forming a cylinder around them of rippling yellow liquid. From behind Imogen, a bolt of fire sailed over her shoulder, colliding with the cylinder and lighting it ablaze.
With the situation momentarily contained, the Hells all took a moment to gather themselves, all coalescing in the street next to the blazing prison Imogen and Fearne had constructed.
“Fuck, that asshole packs a punch,” Ashton complained. “Who the fuck are they?”
“Gimme a sec.”
With a twirl of her wrist, Imogen floated higher, hovering above the flames as she stared down at the caged figure, who glared up at her in turn.
“You,” they said menacingly, a mildly feminine lilt audible in their tone. “The Dreamcatcher. I was hoping for you.”
“Huh?”
“He told me about you,” the figure sneered. “He warned me you’d interfere. So he sent me to take care of you.”
A cold chill ran down Imogen’s spine at the realization, and as fast as she could react, she spun around to yell down to her teammates.
“Watch out! They—”
But before she could get a full sentence out, the figure clapped their hands together before yanking them outward, sending a blast of red energy in every direction. The flames were blown backwards, with the Hells all instinctively yelling and trying to leap out of the way, mostly to no avail as they were showered in flaming liquid.
“Inferno!” Orym yelled. “Help!”
Fearne lit up once again, lifting into the air and twirling her wrist as the flames wreathing her teammates began to sputter and stretch towards her. Imogen spun back towards the figure just in time to observe a blur streaking directly towards her, before a flash of pain radiated through her body as the figure slammed into her chest, sending the two of them hurtling backwards and crashing to the ground.
A look of absolute murder in their eyes, the figure held up their hand as red energy shot between their fingertips, spiraling into the shape of a small, deadly knife. They thrust downward towards Imogen’s heart, but Imogen was just barely able to swing her arm, slamming into the figure’s chest and knocking them aside as a burst of telekinetic force barreled through them.
“Who sent you?” she called out. “Why th’ fuck are y’ after me?”
The figure simply leapt to their feet before staring back at her, a joyful cruelty in their eyes that suggested the presence of a treacherous grin underneath their mask.
“Eon says hello,” they said simply.
Rather than attack Imogen, they instead turned to the rest of the Hells, swinging their arm in an arc and launching a barrage of knives composed of the same red telekinetic energy. One lodged itself firmly into Orym’s shoulder, causing him to cry out and double over, while another sunk directly into Ashton’s chest and sent him reeling. Chetney leapt at the figure, letting out an animalistic snarl as he did, but the figure swung an arm at him, a telekinetic broadsword manifesting as they did, which slashed across his chest and sent him crashing into a pile of debris.
“Stop!” Imogen screamed. “Leave ‘em alone! Y’ said I’m your target, so come at me!”
“Nice try,” they sneered, “but we can’t have interferences, now, can we?”
Glancing back towards where the Hells were gathering themselves, the figure raised an arm before arcing it downward. As they did, a hailstorm of crimson blades rained all across the street, and Orym glanced towards Imogen, a nervous look on his face.
We can’t get to you, he projected towards her. They seem pretty intent on keeping us occupied.
I’m coming, Imogen.
Laudna’s voice was a bit of a surprise, her having vanished into darkness several minutes ago. She emerged from the figure’s shadow, rising out of the ground like a serial killer in a horror movie, slamming her palms into their back and sending a wave of shadow towards them that knocked them forward.
“No, no, no,” they insisted, stumbling to their feet. “This is between the two of us. You don’t belong here, shadow girl. Leave.”
“Make me.”
With a growl, the figure thrust a hand forward, sending a wave of blades directly towards her, but she swiped her hand up, a mass of shadow leaping upwards to consume them in midair. Laudna then spun around and swung her hand forward, another wave of darkness rising behind her and spitting the blades back out, missing her by inches as they sailed back towards their creator. The figure waved their hand, and the blades dissolved into red mist just as they found their new mark, creating an aura around them that resembled a cloud of blood.
“A child of necromancy, how quaint,” they mused. “But you pose no challenge to me, deathling.”
They angrily stomped their foot, and a wave of telekinetic energy blasted outwards, knocking both Imogen and Laudna to the ground. The figure once again brandished their longsword, stalking towards her before planting a foot on her chest and looking back at Imogen.
“Is she your favorite?” they asked simply.
“No! NO!” Imogen yelled. “No, leave her alone! PLEASE!”
The figure’s eyes shone with glee as they looked back at Imogen, lifting their sword in preparation for a fatal strike. Everything seemed to slow as Imogen watched; Laudna looking towards her in fear, clearly unable to escape in time, the crimson blade slashing downward through the air, the others behind them rushing, unable to get to the two of them in time.
BANG!
The figure suddenly froze, the longsword dissolving in their grip, leaving nothing but tiny sparks of red light drifting to the ground like ash. They looked down at their chest as a red splotch began to spread across their clothing, shakily reaching up to touch it. They brought it up to their face, staring in disbelief at the blood on their fingertips, then their eyes rolled back into their head, and they went completely limp, collapsing to the ground.
In a panic, Imogen floated to her feet before sprinting over to help Laudna up.
“Are you alright?” she asked, her voice frantic with worry.
“Yeah, I’m… fine,” Laudna choked out. “Just got… hit harder than I was expecting, destabilized my concentration. Probably would’ve had the wind knocked out of me if I needed to breathe.”
“You’re sure?” Imogen asked, already checking her up and down for wounds. “It’s just… they almost killed you.”
“Imogen, I promise, I’m fine,” she insisted. “You should check on…”
Her train of thought faded away as her eyes locked on something over Imogen’s shoulder, a strange look on her face. Imogen turned to follow her gaze, landing on the same sight Laudna was staring at.
About forty feet away, stepping out of an alleyway, was a thin, waifish-looking woman in a simple white shirt and blue jeans. She wore a pair of combat boots, steel toed, alongside a long, black trench coat that floated around her like a veil, and a utility belt with a holster attached to her hip, holding a military-grade pistol of an unfamiliar design. She had dark hair, shaved on the sides with little floral designs etched across her temples, and much longer hair drifting off the top of her head, woven into a braid that was draped over her shoulder. Despite her international spy aesthetic, the woman smiled warmly at them, her gray eyes sparkling with concern.
“Are you alright?” she asked, rushing across the street towards the two of them. “I’m so sorry, I’d been tracking them across the state, but they’re really fast. It took me a while to catch up, and I’m glad I was able to when I did.”
“…right,” Laudna muttered in a daze. “Yeah, uh, me too.”
The woman stepped up to the two of them, leaning back to examine them as footsteps approached from behind. The rest of the Hells all limped into view, nursing their wounds and shaking off unconsciousness.
“Glad you were in the area,” Orym spoke up. “We weren’t expecting that much raw power, caught us off guard.”
“Oh, that’s kinda their whole thing, a little bit,” the woman said, shrugging awkwardly. “Took somebody with a very specific set of skills to take them on.”
“Who’re you?” Imogen blurted out. She glanced back and forth between Orym and the woman awkwardly. “That is… what sorta skills d’ y’ mean?”
The woman chuckled. “Well, if I showed them off out here in public, my cover would kinda be blown, silly,” she said. “It’s a secret for a reason.”
“Well then, how ‘bout this.”
Imogen brushed her hand off on her costume, then held it out towards the other woman.
“I’m Dreamcatcher,” she said. “But y’ can jus’ call me Imogen, for now.”
“Pleased to meet you, Imogen,” the woman smiled back. “I… well, I’ve had a few codenames over the years, but my favorite has got to be Whisper. That said… you can just call me Dusk.”