Hero & Witch Pt. 05.2: Heroine Falls

The only thing that surprised him after finding himself enfolded so affectionately was how his first instinct wasn't to bring that person unceremoniously to the ground. He guessed his senses knew she was there before telling him. It had to be his sense of smell that she'd altered first, as he breathed in the scent he'd become so familiar with, something that pleasantly teased his nostrils and any part of the brain associated with scents and memory. It was a bold, sweet vanilla and something else, something he finally paid attention to, stronger than anything available over the make-up counter. It didn't surprise him how she could mask her presence the way most couldn't, or how the heels she probably wore made no sound on the hardwood floor. Feeling her pert breasts pressed up against his back, and her arms wrapped around his torso, a finger running up and down the line of buttons, and her head resting on his shoulder, snuggled next to his, he wasn't inclined to question the how or why. Eyelids never opened for not wanting to be caught in the blue trap waiting for him in the mirror, he stayed static, waiting for her to say something, anything. Time slowed to a small eternity as they both breathed against each other, and soon together.

The only real reply she gave was to turn her head ever-so-slightly, halfway to facing his cheek, inviting him to turn as well. The breath from her nostrils against his face, and her scent from every intake got him to start to turn, and stop just as quickly, stalling for time to reject. The hand at his shirt moved upwards; he thought it would push his head towards her, but it hovered so close to his skin. He felt the warmth of her non-caress, stroked by her body heat. An errant thought almost made him laugh in how she was so close to breaking the spirit of her own game of letting him come to her; Jon wondered if feeling being pushed by the warm essence of her hand counted or not.

The pinky of that hand lightly brushed his earlobe, finally making him move. He took hold of her hands and opened them to release himself and walk away. He had trouble letting go of one of her hands, almost bringing it to his lips before he realized he could open his eyes. Facing the door, he stepped out, and signaled the waiter for the check. He had no intention of telling Jesse of what happened, or sticking around to see what else Scryer might do.

The witch huffed, heart beating faster than she realized, grinning at how close he'd come, wishing he would've succumbed then and there. She wasn't kidding about how hot her talk made him, taking a few moments to dampen and dry her face off at the sink. Her suggestion was firmly in-place about abstaining from sexual release for him, but he didn't know it'd become self-imposed for her as well. As easy as it could be to force it, it would be a lot hotter if they both teetered on the edge; at least, that's what her body told her, the same body that could turn on her rule. Excitement kept her steaming under her business attire as she looked at herself in the mirror.

Looking down before stepping away, she tsked and how he'd left his headset behind. She grabbed it off the counter and inconspicuously left the men's room, noticing the pair had already left.

"Damn," she swore under her breath. The redhead would've hoped her pet would be less forgetful of his valuables, but still bore a small smile for having an excuse to return it and play with him a little more. After paying her bill, she exited the restaurant and headed toward the nearby outskirts of town, unaware she was being followed.

***

Striker patiently waited near the restaurant after he and Jesse left. She went back to the office, to keep up appearances. Other than waiting for his erection to subside before trying to hide it and walk, there was purpose for him not returning directly back to the office. He assumed Scryer wouldn't be teleporting out of the men's room, and found his wait paid off as he stayed a several paces back to tail her.

The edge of town was most hilltops and a few old-style residences. It wasn't easy for him to not be detected while following her out in the open, but he managed with the help of sometimes thick tree trunks every few meters or so. He'd lost track of at one point, so much so that were it not for her red hair, he wouldn't have mistaken the plain-clothes dressed woman heading in the same direction Scryer was. He didn't know how or when she found the time to change clothes, but it made more sense to look like a tourist out there instead of someone professionally-dressed. Wearing a polo shirt and jeans, Striker fortunately didn't stand out much himself.

After the third or so hilltop they both crossed, Scryer had stopped at something on the ground, kneeling as if to inspect it. From a distance, it looked like a pile of stones she crouched herself at, perhaps insignificant expect for the strong magic signature he felt from its direction. She took her time running her fingers across the stones as if doing so bore great significance. Ensuring the digital camera in his pocket was kept silent, he took a few pictures of her at the site. He expected prayer, chanting, invoking some spell, but for what he saw, calling it practicing, or talking with herself was more apt. She stayed at the stones for fifteen minutes before getting up and walking away to wherever else she had to go. He waited another fifteen minutes after she'd left before he emerged behind his hiding place to see for himself where she'd stopped.

Coming to it, the pile of stones was more purposefully arranged, a circle within a circle. Most of them were oval-shaped, but a few had a multi-circled design on the top of them, nearly looking like a triquetra shape of Celtic origin, but more oval in shape. He knew of the triquetra after he did a basic search of Celtic culture, seeing if there was any obvious connection to Scryer. Kneeling, he took pictures of the circle, looking to be about 10 feet in diameter in the smaller circle. He didn't dare step inside it, even if his curiosity grew stronger to see what would happen if he would. Instead, he took photos of it from every angle, with zoomed close-ups of the triquetra shapes, hoping he or someone else he trusted could make sense of things.

Once he thought he had enough, he quickly moved to get back to work, trying not to look in a hurry, but not wanting to return to find Scryer was there in his absence, doing whatever she pleased.

He got back as promptly as he could, giving an excuse that his lunch hadn't sat well with him for a while. Not even his boss seemed to bat an eye at Jon as he resumed the office building, keeping one eye on his work and another on any suspicious-looking women around. Jon soon got so caught up in his work that his eyes were less than vigilant about noticing everyone around him, missing those who kept an eye on him. Jesse every-so-often strolled over near where Jon worked, keeping a watchful eye on him. Out of sight of most, Scryer kept their eye on nearly everyone, including Jon and the meddlesome woman who just couldn't seem to leave him alone.

"Sabrina? I didn't know they sent you out here too," Mark replied from behind, surprising her. She nearly gasped in panic at having been found out, except for his voice was out of earshot of anyone else, and the fact that it was Mark.

"Oh, hello Marcus, didn't see you there."

"Yeah, didn't expect to see you here, heh?" his statement ended as a question.

"Well, there's no need to tell anybody, of course."

"You mean they do-"

"Much better to let sleeping dogs lie, Marcus" Sabrina interrupted.

"Sleeping dogs lie at the Mistress' feet," was his uttered, trained response. It made her smile to see his inquiry corrected, but she considered changing his response to the trigger at a later date, as it only seemed appropriate for one person familiar with her suggestive words to have the privilege of calling her Mistress or being at her feet, whether or not he'd grown a fetish for them.

"That's much better. Now as I said, you won't remember me being here at all. Sabrina is back home, you're certain about that. And since I have you here, do me favor and write down the phone number of your hotel room. Thank you. Expect a phone call from me around 9pm tonight in your room. It doesn't matter if you're out with friends or not, you know you have to be in your room at 9pm sharp since you're expecting an important call. Do you understand everything I've just told you?"

"Yes."

"Tell me what you know and what you'll do for me."

Mark reiterated everything he be doing to her satisfaction.

"Perfect. Now, go fetch."

Mark blinked, wondering why he stopped there in the middle of the hallway leading to the cubicles, moving forward as Jon called him over for help. The business woman Mark had forgotten about walked away from the building pulled out her phone, whispering into it while Jon was distracted by an encouraging voice.

"Have a productive day at work dearie. Don't work those muscles too hard, lest you feel my touch soothing them into much-desired relaxation."

Striker flinched as he realized he wouldn't be pushing himself to any limits for the rest of the day.

***

It'd been almost a full 24 hours since Jon had seen a glimpse of Psiana or Scryer. It felt good having things act like normal without incident, for whatever short time he was afforded. But he never expected it to last, and he still needed to be proactive with Striker's work as well. After a productive day's work, he told his friends he check out the sights of the local town, declining their invitation to hit up the London nightlife. Only when he promised them that maybe he'd catch a cab at some bars they'd probably be at did they finally let him go.

After showering and changing clothes he set out into the rural areas for more searching. He backtracked as best he could remember to see if the stone circle Scryer had led him to was there. To his surprise, it wasn't. Standing where he was sure the stone circles previously laid, his eyes suspiciously checked his surroundings. He didn't necessarily feel like he was being watched, but he could never tell how well a witch could mask her presence. Leaving the site, he spent a few more hours roaming the countryside, enjoying the what he saw, but frustrated at no new sighting. With the sun beginning to set off in the distance, he knew he would have to make his way back to the hotel before it got so dark the landmarks he used for backtracking would be too dark to see.

It was on his way back when under a huge oak tree and the bottom of a long hillside slope, not the only one he'd come across, but the only one he could sense a signature from. The closer he got to it, the more a familiar circle shape was visible. Not only that, but it looked like tire tracks were around in the grass, leading right up to what Striker had searched for. The tires didn't give him the impression that it was a large vehicle, but it must've been something good enough to make it up the hills. He wondered if someone else was studying the stones like he was, or if Scryer had gotten someone to arrange drive out an arrange them for her. He didn't know why it seemed strange to imagine Scryer behind the wheel, but he did laugh at the thought.

As with the last, he took as many pictures as he could, from the first sign of tire tracks found, where the car could've come from, and as many shots as possible around the circle. This formation had even more of the ovaled-triquetra symbols on it. Lying directly under the huge shade the tree would cast, he'd wished he'd found it mid-day, to see if the thin sunbeams would line up with the decorated stones. His foot accidentally brushing up against one, he'd taken a cautious step back, expecting a violent reaction to them. Strangely, the only reaction came from him, but even stranger is that for a small stone, his foot had pushed off of it like it was immovable. He knelt down to push at it with his finger, and found he could not move it forward. He tried it with several stones of the outer circle, decorated or not, all seemed immovable. Assuming consistency, he wondered how immovable stones got moved at all, from one place to another.

He did note that touching a decorated one did have a reaction, a tingle traveling front he tip of his finger, spreading lightly through the hand he used to touch. Curiosity got the better of him as he passed his hand over the border and into the outer circle. Fully prepared to jump back, but not prepared to feel, just like with the tingle, a delayed sensation of pleasure that cajoled his skin and nerves, urged him forward. Striker's brain argued with his body for a minute, his whole arm reaching out deeper into the circle, his hand hovering over a triquetra stone of the inner circle. From that, a faster sensation hit his brain, and he imagined, or saw himself imagining Scryer materializing right before his eyes, crouched in front of him, caressing his outstretched hand while she applied the heat of her non-touch to his cheek, perfume wafting from her wrists so close to his nose. He closed his eyes and couldn't tell who kissed whom, but they fell to the ground, ending up between the outer and inner circle. He was on top of her, necking her while her mouth toyed with his ear. She was using the weight of her body and momentum to roll so that she was on top. He was willing to comply, until he felt his sides resting against the hard, uncomfortable stones. He suddenly realized what she was after, and thrust himself away before he could give it to her.

He opened his eyes to find Scryer gone, and his body in it's original stature, only at arm's length into the circle. He laid back near the base of the tree, catching his breath. "Shit," he said looking up, realizing the sky was just about to be pitch black. Gathering his camera and wits, he jogged all the way back using what faints indications of landmarks he recognized, all the way to the lights of the town. In his room, he took down the notes necessary in his findings, disrobed, and showered before bed. Long, cold and sobering.

***

Having finished cubicles of the first floor, on schedule thanks to the motivation and example set by Jon, Jesse, and a few other managers, they were actually a little ahead of schedule. Bevy had already began supervising the PCs hardware and software instillation on the ground floor after the electricians were promptly finished with their checks. Workers got a brief laugh of Bevy telling the deliverymen where to set the boxes, and the cultural difference between what 'first floor' meant to the US vs. the UK. Spirits seemed high around the workplace, even with Jon, outwardly. He put on a happy face and complimented the people under him how good they were doing, promising to buy a round of drinks for them if they kept up the good work. It wasn't easy to keep up the smile with the arguing going on in his head.

Nights prior yielded some interesting findings he'd confidentially shared with some of the more intellectual heroes, or maybe an academic authority on Celtic studies if he could find one. But he went back-and-forth with whether he should include the heroine with her own brand of brain power in things. He could easily tell her that his own investigation came up with nothing, that Striker's mission was a bust. It was the option he wanted to indulge in the most, except for the fact that Psiana would've been nosy enough that she'd check his mind to see if he was being truthful. Having the excuse that he'd been compromised by Scryer's tricks wasn't easy to refute because there could've been a smidgen of truth to it. And even worse, if she ventured out into her own investigation, she was much more direct and less subtle about things. She wouldn't be kicking down any doors, but her lack of field time was evident, and she tried to make up for it with direct courage. The last thing he wanted was to find Scryer and Psiana dueling again.

At the other side of the office, Jon smoothly ran into Jesse.

"Have you got time to go over something a little later?"

Jesse's eyes brightened as he seemed finally willing to include her in Striker's work.

"Sure. Looking forward to it."

Sharing more shepherd's pie for lunch, they discussed what she'd been itching to hear about.

"A stone formation, you say?"

"Yes. Found a woman that looked like Scryer near one. Circle with a bigger circle, and some stones had markings on them."

"What kind of markings?"

"Somewhat cultural ones, as in Celtic culture, probably associated with a place where Scryer gets her accent from."

"Sounds like a good lead to me. When are we going? After lunch?"

Jon eyed Jesse's eager-beaver demeanor carefully. It was evident she was looking for retribution against Scryer more than justice or prevention. Including her in things was probably the best course of action; he could at least play "senior" and keep her from making stupid, rookie mistakes, no matter what powers she had.

"After work. Jesse still has work to do when we get back," he pointed his fork at her, reminding her of the circumstances her alter ego had gotten itself into.

"It's not like they'll miss me. With a little coaxing..."

"With a little coaxing, when this job is over my co-workers are going to have fond, but forgettable memories of someone who aided them all the way through the office building. Nothing more, nothing less."

Jesse wanted to, but didn't argue with the stern tone of his voice. All her hero work and investigations done from the comfort of her own apartment had really spoiled her.

"Yes sir," she saluted mockingly.

He rolled his eyes at her, signaling for the check.

***

Nightfall covered their approach as two hero-garbed figures found their way to the countryside oak tree Jon came across the night before. They stayed silent in their approach, Striker keeping a keen eye on their surroundings, and Psiana kept a constant scan of the area for any signs of people, or signals meant to block her scan. Striker's gaze roamed in every direction, but seemed to glance more in Psiana's direction. She caught him looking enough to address him.

"What?" she whispered.

"Nothing." He said. "Now I see why you stay indoors so much," he muttered under his breath.

"Excuse me?" she still heard him. His non-reply angered her a little. "You want me to start probing?"

He cursed his face mask for not muffling his jab enough. "Well, who's your tailor? Toys-R-Us?" He replied clearly, noting the garish pink and purple outfit he'd expect to find in outdated, cheesy comic books.

"You're right, maybe I should pay a visit to yours. Planet Fitness. Ninja edition," she pointed at the cloth covering his mouth.

"We're here," he said, sorry that he'd brought up outfitting tastes.

Striker was surprised and semi-relieved to find it was still there. The light from the almost full moon above was blocked by the huge tree, but some beams of light made it past the dozens or hundreds of branches, some seemed to hit the stones as he guessed.

"Well, this looks...'hokey' comes to mind."

Striker raised an eyebrow at her.

"C'mon, don't tell me I was the only one expecting something more elaborate than this. Unless entering the circle takes us to someplace more impressive, a huge wizard's citadel or a stone tower, something else. We've got nothing more than a bunch of rocks children could put together."

"The symbols on the rocks?" he pointed out.

Psiana knelt down to run her fingers over the design of a stone on the outer circle. She paused as she thought she heard something, but she couldn't tell from where. It went away as she lifted her hand, so she ignored it.

"So a stone masoner in-town made some designs for some kids. I heard there was one around."