Something Wicked

Part 1: Discovery of Somaris
"By the pricking of my thumbs, something wicked this way comes." -W. Shakespeare
"Itís just a prophecy. Itís not like it came from on high." -Cordelia Chase

The young woman that sat at the library table was so engrossed in the research that she had not bothered to look at the time in the last four hours. She was a member of a secret society called the Watchers, they documented and chronicled the lives of beings that were simply called Immortals. These Immortals were blessed with eternity, one in which they would never age, become ill or die of a mortal wound. There would be the truest sense of their name except for the one thing that could kill them, beheading. That death would only come after a ritual combat which they referred to as the Quickening. Each of the Quickenings was all part of the Game, as with every game there were Rules. Only two stead fast rules remained. Never kill humans, and no Quickenings on Holy Ground.

As with every race of beings in the world there were good, bad, and gray people. The Good followed the rules and had a moral conscious. The Bad followed the two steadfast rules, when it suits their needs and have no morals. The Gray seem to teeter in between the good and the bad, most follow the rules and play by the rules unless faced with no other opportunity.

The Middle English Chronicle was easier than some to translate, it was an odd thing to find a Medieval chronicle written in anything other than Latin or what was French at the time. Her dark brown hair was blunt cut just above her shoulders curtained around her face, doing the rough translation was easy enough. She had taken a few moments to assess what was being chronicled, apparently the Benedictine monk was suffering from visions that were followed by aches of the head. The monk referred to himself as Somaris, he was sure that God was punishing him for something that he had done in his youth. He was luck to find a herbal tea invented by a nun in the cloister to relive aches and pains. It seems after each attack that Somaris was no better.

Rather than his assignment the chronicle had become a diary of the monkís visions. One in particular. Her blue eyes glanced over the small spiral bound notebook and what she had translated thus far. Her jaw dropped, there was mention of the Immortals in this prophecy. One in particular, her assignment. Quickly recovering from her slack jawed appearance she glanced up, looking around. Not a soul in sight, gently closing the book she gathered her bag and the chronicle heading for the circulation desk.

Approaching the desk she saw the forty something balding clerk there and he greeted her, looking at the chronicle he nodded. Asking the young woman for her I.d. he scanned the barcode and then scanned the bookís barcode. Asking her to call if she needed the chronicle renewed the young woman headed out putting the book in her bag. The clerk picked up the phone and called a number.

"Somaris is coming out." The clerk spoke.

"Excellent," the cold British accent sounded. "Iíll send my associate after it."

"A young girl has it, she just left a few moments ago." the clerk provided further information. "Sheís tall dark hair and-"

"Her name Mr. Dobbs?" the accent asked again.

"Owsyn Kean." Dobbs answered. "Mr. Irons, when will I receive payment?"

"When I receive the chronicle in my hand." Irons spoke before hanging up the phone.

Outside Owsyn was in the midst of deciding on the train or a cab, and "From the looks of the crowd pouring out of the station, Iím taking the cab." She moved out in between to cars parked on the city provided spaces, meters ticking away. Hailing a cab she was unaware of the black clad figure stealth fully creeping up behind her. She did however feel the tug that cased her to stumble backwards a few steps. The cab driver radioed his dispatcher to get the police coming there was a mugging in progress.

Owsyn had no difficulty keeping up with the man cloaked in black, she was no more than a few strides behind him. She could seem him slip something in his pocket she yelled at him.

"Hey!" she shouted at him "Damn it drop the bag!" she found a foul name to spit out at him.

The sound of sirens coming from behind her and pulling into the alleyway right in front of the mugger. They had only gone a few blocks when the car cut him off. Silently giving a breathless shout of victory Owsyn was beginning to loose her breath as the two officers got out of the car.

"Scratch that," Owsyn thought "detectives, and a male and female teamed together thatís different." she bent over to catch her breath. "Thanks." she rasped out at the female detective.

"Nottingham," the femaleís sultrily voice greeted the man in black. "purse snatching isnít exactly your thing." she smirked. "Give the girl her bag back."

Nottingham turned around, the black made this man even more mysterious. His dark eyes met her own and the small smirk that formed on his lips was intoxicating. His medium beard was trimmed neatly. Under the ribbed knit ski cap was dark hair that was pulled back into a small pony tail.

"Here you go Miss." Nottinghamís voice was like a whisper.

"What the hell am I thinking about screwing this guy when he just took my bag." Owsyn shook her head. "Thank you," she began looking through her bag. "Keys, cell phone, wallet," she moved her hand around in the big pocket. "notebook, and oh wait, thereís the antique book missing, you wouldnít know anything about that would you?" she looked directly at Nottingham. "Fork it over." she held out her hand.

"I have no idea what sheís talking about Sarah." He pleaded with the female officer.

"Give the lady her book." the male officer demanded.

Owsyn had not taken a good look at the male officer, he was about her height, blonde hair, tanned skin, a perfect smile and "One hell of a body that I-" She shook her head "Note to self, get laid when getting back to Seacover." He smiled at her and she just smiled back.

"Ease up McCarty." Sarah gave him a look. "Nottingham, give the kid the book, or Iím calling Irons and weíre going to the station." Sarah gave a look to Nottingham and the tone in her voice had a hint of warning.

"As you wish Sarah." he bowed looking up at her from under his brow. The book emerged from the black folds of his trench coat and Owsyn was relived to see it.

Sarah Pezzini felt the energy surge of the Witchblade as gave warning, eyeing the book she saw the familiar interlinked circles on the design of the leather bound cover. The other symbols she was unfamiliar with, but none the less she could get some basic info on the book from Gabriel later. All she needed was a title.

"Miss, do you want to press charges?" McCarty asked jarring both Sarah and Owsyn from their thoughts.

"Uh," Owsyn paused looking the book over and flashing past a hand drawn image of the Gauntlet, both Sarah and Ianís eyes widened. "No harm to the book or any one, no, no charges." she slid the book back into her bag.

"Do you mind if I ask you the title of that book?" Sarah asked Owsyn.

"Itís the Journal of Somaris." Owsyn could have kicked herself for telling the truth "What the hell is wrong with you?" she smiled. "I work for a rather eccentric writer who collects antique journals." she tried covering.

"Wow," McCarty gave a whistle. "Expensive habit."

"Nottingham your free to go." Sarah waved him on. "Iíll talk to your employer later." she turned back to Owsyn. "Your sure you donít want to file any charges Miss-"

"Owsyn, Kean." she could have kicked herself again for telling the truth.

"Thatís an interesting name." McCarty smiled. "Listen if you have any trouble you-"

"Jake," Sarah eyed him "not even. Come one lets get back before Dante has a cow."

"Okay Pez, okay." he smiled again at Owsyn. "Take this just in case." he handed her his card.

"Thanks." Owsyn smiled as she saw the cab she hailed earlier waiting on her the driver was an odd looking man, but she smiled at him none the less. He had long kinky blonde hair, wide face, his eyes were large, and his jaws were in proportion with his face.

"Where to Miss?" he asked.

Owsyn gave him directions to her hotel. "Thank you, for calling the cops."

He nodded and that would be the end of their conversation. Owsyn noticed that he missed the turn off and was going in the opposite direction. She was about to protest when he stopped and a young man got into the rear seat with her.

"Hey." he smiled. "I hope you donít mind, heís a friend and promised to take me to Central Park."

"No," Owsynís furrowed brow and noticed that the cab driver had begin back tack to the last light. "This day only started normal, curiouser and curiouser it gets." she rolled her blue eyes.

"Gabriel Bowman, and you are?" he asked extending his hand.

"Owsyn Kean." she shook his hand, retuning to reading the notebook.

"College student?" he raised a brow. "I tried that."

"Not exactly." Owsyn knew what was coming next. "I work for a writer, she like to collect antique journals. I just research and translate."

"Really?" he raised his brow. "I do a bit of research, not quite antiques, but most are."

"Any good finds lately?" she smirked. "Queen Anne dresser. Or perhaps a Tiffany original?"

"I uh, not exactly," He smiled looking at the notebook. "I deal in rare mystical objects." Gabriel smiled, glancing over at the notebook she was looking over, he saw the two interlinked circles and almost did a double take. He had seen the symbol several times in reference to the Witchblade. "Pretty interesting?" Gabriel nodded to the notebook.

"Yeah," she saw her hotel up ahead "Listen, Gabriel it was nice meeting you and all, but this is my stop. "Could you pull over here." she gestured to the opposite side of the street.

The cab eased over to the curb and Owsyn got out delaying, buying time until the cab was out of sight. Then crossing the street she made her way into the lobby of the hotel. It had just been a bad day, frankly the sinking feeling in her stomach was a sign to get out of New York while she still could. Informing the desk clerk that she would be checking out, Owsyn headed up to her room packing her bag, pulling her cell phone out of her purse she paged through the numbers that she had stored in the memory. The long distance number was easy accessed, it rang for what seemed like eternity then the voice on the other end greeted her.

"I got it, had to go through hell to get it, but Iíve got the journal." Owsyn spoke.

"Good," the female voice on the other end sounded positive. "I take it your checking out?"

"Yeah, packing and the desk clerk is getting all the papers together." Owsyn folded her spare jacket and placed it on top of the stack in the suitcase. "I read some of the translation, thereís something you need to know about it."

"I know about Somarisí prophecy, thatís why I asked you to get the book." the voice on the phone stated. "If I would have told you things might not have went as they did."

"You could have warned me."

"About what?" the voice asked.

"Thereís someone else thatís after the book." Owsyn zipped the suitcase up. "Some guy named Nottingham, I only caught his name because the cop mentioned it. Apparently this isnĎt the first time the guy crossed paths with the NYPD."

"Never heard of him." the other person on the phone dismissed it. "All that matters is that your all right, the bookís in your hands and that you get back here as soon as possible."

"The first three arenít the problem, itís the getting home that might pose a problem." Owsyn sighed as she put her bag and suitcase next to each other on the bed.

"First connecting flight, donít transfer planes unless itís a must. IĎve got to go, take care and keep your eyes open."

"Thanks," Owsyn spoke. "Iíll be there as soon as possible, call you when I get to the airport."

Ending the call Owsyn quickly shoved the cell phone into her bag and slung the messenger style bag over her shoulder. Hefting the suitcase off the bed, using the wheels built in Owsyn made her way to the elevator then down to the lobby. Singing the paperwork and receipts for the bills to the credit card she smiled and took her copy of the receipts. The clerk had gone one step further and called a cab.

The young Watcher was relived to see that it was a different cab driver and that the way to the airport was smooth. Getting the flight was easy and she only had an hour, giving the same number she had called earlier a ring. Owsyn began talking as soon as the female voice answered giving her all the information. They day was soon getting back to its normalcy, and Owsyn seemed to relax a bit more.

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