It’s not like I expected any sort of physical altercation with Stefan’s mate. No, if anyone other than the Alpha Male himself was going to leave me bruised and battered around here, it was one of his Three Amigos. The threat from a Seer wouldn’t be physical. Instead of upper-cuts and side-kicks, you had to worry about what she was going to pull out of your brain. Could she See what was knocking around up there, like Talley? Or maybe it was what your weaknesses are or how to break you from the inside out. No one ever bothered to cover the complete scope of Seer powers with me, but I was under the impression they were so various and many you couldn’t really keep up with them all.
Since the basement lacked a clock and someone confiscated my phone just an hour after I arrived, I had no way to know for sure exactly how long it was before someone else came downstairs. Judging by the fact I made it through twenty-four chapters of a James Patterson novel, I estimated it at around thirty minutes after I gave up on breakfast.
Three women came through the door along with Mandla, Hashim, and Travis. Mandla and Hashim took up post just in front of the door of the cell while Travis lounged against the basement door.
“You are to stay at least two feet away from the bars,” Mandla informed me.
I took an exaggerated step backwards.
The three girls, all of which looked to be in the high school to college age range, stood clustered together in the middle of the non-caged half of the basement looking at me with the same fearful curiosity you would a lion in a zoo.
“So, are you a good witch or a bad witch?” The one brave enough to speak was a black girl with some very awesomely done purple extensions. And while I’m no expert in dialect and accents, I would put good money on her being from Brooklyn.
I threw a hand over my heart and did my best Judy Garland. “Me? Why, I’m not a witch at all. I’m Scout Donovan of Kentucky.”
“And your little dog?”
I couldn’t help but smile. “Oh, I guess I’m that, too. Although, truth be told, I’m not all that little.”
There was a moment of complete and utter silence and then Brooklyn burst out laughing. “I like her. I vote we not kill her.”
“True!” exclaimed the girl with hair the color pumpkin juice and more freckles than I knew was possible. “Don’t be so horrible.”
“I’m not being horrible. I’m saying I want to keep her alive. That’s the exact opposite of horrible. It’s nice and thoughtful. Right, Sabrina?”
“I’m feeling the love, Pythia.”
“See, funny and smart. She could totally hang with us.”
“She’s not one of us,” the older girl, a blonde Amazonian, said. Her accent was similar to Stefan’s but not exactly. I decided she was either from a different part of Russian or one of those countries that used to be back in the USSR when John, Paul, George, and Ringo were doing their thing together. “She Changes during the full moon without the aide of lineage, upsetting the balance and natural order of things. It would be a good idea for the two of you to remember that.”
True stuck out her tongue, which meant I got to see the bar she had running through it. The Russian responded with a lift of the middle finger without even looking over her shoulder in True’s direction.
“Let me guess, she can See whatever is going on in a room, even if she’s blindfolded.”
“No, True is just predictable.” The blonde threw a thick braid back over her shoulder. “I See potential, if you must know.”
“Potential?”
“It’s a very important gift,” said Freckles. She was definitely the youngest, and her accent was American of some sort, but I had no idea as to the particulars. I just knew she wasn’t from New York, Boston, or anywhere south of Kentucky. “She can hold a baby in her arms and tell you if you should encourage her to explore music because she could become a great pianist, or warn you to be cautious because she has the tendencies of a serial killer.”
“Does it only work on babies?”
“Of course not.” Another toss of the braid, which seemed to have trouble staying put. “All I have to do is touch any living thing and I can See where its greatest potential lies.”
“So it would work on me?”
Mandla, who had been statue-like up to this point, snapped his head around. “I do not think that would be wise.”
I had asked in a theoretical sense, but now that Mandla was against the idea, I was all about it.
“It’ll be fun. I want to know where my greatest potential lies. Maybe I’m supposed to be one of those hairdressers who enter crazy hair shows. I’ll never know if she doesn’t tell me.”
Mandla didn’t even think before he said, “No.”
“Awww… c’mon,” True whined. “Let her do it. What is the Thaumaturgic going to do? Bite off her fingers?”
“Well, fingers are tasty.”
Mandla cut me a climb-in-a-handbasket-and-take-a-trip-down-South look. The flames shooting out of his eyes didn’t dissuade the Russian, however.
“I want to See.”
“She is a Thaumaturgic, Mischa. What if she shows you the very depths of Hell? Would you really want to See that? Do you think you would ever recover?”
“I’m willing to take the risk.” Mischa’s nose climbed into the air, obviously displeased he thought there was something she couldn’t handle. “I think it’s important we know.”
“Are you sure about that?” I asked. “I mean, what if I really am supposed to be one of those competition hair dressers? I’ve seen those hair shows on public access, and some of those ‘dos are scary. You may have Flock of Seagulls themed nightmares.”
True giggled, which only cause Mischa to be more determined. She swept up to the cage, one palm up in the air as if she was telling me to stop. I raised my hand in a similar fashion, walked forward, and then pressed it to hers. At first I couldn’t tell anything was happening, but then her pupils grew large as her breathing accelerated. When Mandla ripped our hands apart she was gasping for air.
“Mischa! Are you okay? What did you See?”
Mischa didn’t answer. She was still trying to catch her breath while her eyes remained locked on mine, although I’m not sure she was actually seeing me.
I really, really didn’t want to know what it was she did See.