Page 2 of Infiltrated

“Hey honey, my name is Charlie, you can call me Ellie. What’s your name and how old are you?” I attempted to ask in my best motherly tone. Which means my voice probably came out as more of a husky growl, and judging by her flinch, I was right. She wasn’t convinced by my attempted motherly nature. Well, I wouldn’t blame her. I don’t really have one, but still I tried.

“Hi, Ellie, I…I’m Ambrosia, thank you for kil…helping me.” I smirked at her attempt to cover up what I did, but the truth was, I did kill him, so I shrugged.

“Don’t mention it,” I said as softly as I could. I took a casual once over and realized her leg was at an odd angle and she was bleeding from her neck, where the gargoyle was trying to hold her down. A fury rose deep within me and I’m sure my eyes were glowing red, a nifty trick I got for killing a murderous vampire, a year ago. Ambrosia looked at my face and whimpered, for sure trying to figure out what I was at this point.You and me both, kid.I shoved the anger down after a few seconds of breathing and tried to focus. I killed him, she’s safe, and I will make sure she stays safe.

“I see you have some nasty injuries there, but guess what? I have pretty strong healing powers to help you but since your leg seems to be broken, this may hurt.” Who was I kidding, it was going to hurt like a bitch but the child seemed to be a little bit more comfortable as I spoke quietly, so I didn’t want to freak her out.

“S-sure, it hurts so much.”

Without waiting or any prior warning, I put my hands over her body and pulled on my healing powers from deep within the recesses of my soul. Sounds strange, but that is where anyone’s power comes from. Their soul. People forget that the soul is a constant energy that cannot be easily destroyed.

When my power finally peaked, I put my hands over Ambrosia and let my power work slowly, trying to at least alleviate some of the pain. When healing, a typical healer needs to focus and touch their patient, for me, I didn’t have to touch, but it was always good practice to make myself look as inconspicuous as possible in this world. So overtime, I mentally developed what I would call a power condom; it didn’t feel good but I had to fuck with the constrictions of it.

Ambrosia took a deep breath and made a small sound in the back of her throat but continued keeping a brave face. Impressive. Most people would flip their shit. I wanted to wrap her up in a hug, but that was more Pixie’s thing, not mine.

While my power worked, Ambrosia seemed determined to keep the pain from her voice, and said, “I’m eleven by the way,” answering my previous question.

I cursed under my breath. Eleven years old, kidnapped, hurt, and having to deal with a Gargoyle and whatever the fuck I am (again, later.)

Ambrosia looked at me. “You curse a lot. My foster mother never lets me curse. She believes it is beneath me.” She looks at me speculatively. “But you curse a lot and you’re saving my life, so it can’t be a good way to judge someone's character.” She takes a deep breath as her leg adjusts.I let out a surprised laugh. I admit she is a strong kid if she can take that level of pain. I have had to reset my legs quite a bit over the past six years since I have been on my own and it was not pleasant.

“There, all done. Would you like me to take you home now?” I cursed inwardly as I realized I brought my beautiful cherry-red and black motor cycle, and it was no place for a child.Sigh. As much I hated giving away all my secrets, there was no way I could take a kid back home on a bike, when every magickal law enforcement was out looking for this particular child,that I have already saved, useless fuckers.

“Please, I know my mom must be worried and I just want to be home,” Ambrosia said softly, looking exhausted. Being healed, especially after such injuries, takes a toll.

“Ambrosia, I need you to keep what you saw me do tonight a secret, can you do that for me?” Something about this girl told me she would, but I don’t trust anyone. Not anymore. Not after…no, I ignore that memory trying to rise, and focus on the little girl in front of me. She nodded gently.

“Thank you. I will take you home now. What does your home look like, picture it in your mind.” I picked her up gently and surprisingly, she was lighter than I expected, but again, thanks to my badass abilities, I am stronger than your average magick user. She gave me a tired smile, and projected a quick picture of her home. I picked up the image of her home from her head, right before she passed out in my arms. Thank goodness, I was able to ask her before she fell asleep. I needed it to create the portal, and while I could have taken it while she was sleeping, without consent, she would have had a heck of a headache, not to mention I don’t do anything without consent. Period.

I quickly threw an illusion, hiding my beautiful bike, Beast. I wasn’t Belle, but we could share; he looks like a motherfucker with some serious stamina.

I opened a portal, then quickly and quietly stepped through, sighing in relief as I looked down and saw that Ambrosia was still sleeping. Portals tend to make you feel as if someone is stretching you to make you into a human Laffy Taffy. Not fun. I don’t let people know the extent of my powers. Hell, I don’t even know the full extent of my powers. I keep learning more every day.Being this badass was a process.Anyway, what I did know is that with every kill of a depraved Druko, I was stronger and took on a little of their powers, rather perks, as well. For example, I couldn’t kill an elemental with fire and take their power because I already had elemental fire. Also, killing a shifter doesn’t give me power to go through a full shift, but I can still create an impenetrable illusion of that person, that even mimicked certain personality traits. Learning. Process.

Unlike the other children who have to go through the Surge—our magickal awakening that gave us our powers—I was born with it. It had never happened before as far as I knew, or at least it was never documented, I should know, I have done the research. My parents kept my unusual birth a secret, and kept me hidden, so even despite their resources and connections, they couldn’t make waves to alert anyone on the Magick Council—the Council that controlled the magick population for our community pocket anyway. Sigh. When I was born, I let out a burst of fire magick and damaged my mother from being able to carry children in the future. Although, according to my parents, they had intervention to have me, and chances are I was a one-off without more help.

Regardless, they always loved me and never made me feel bad about it. My parents were strong elementals and well-known; while my mom could control water better than anyone, my dad could control fire and heat. So opposite, but for magick, it wasn’t about what power you had, it was more so about how your magick called to one another. Once that bond tugged, you blended into one another. Some call it the bond, others referred to it as the Call. Their love for each other was just perfect and well-balanced, it made me who I am, and I will always be grateful to them.

I smiled sadly, I missed them. I missed their smiles when I manipulated my bath water to make water balls when I was two, I even missed their anger when I set the backyard on fire when I was practicing my fire magick when I was four. I missed their shocked faces when I did something extraordinary like regrowing the grass, trees, and my mother’s flowers, shortly after the fire without breaking a sweat. I have always been different, my power was vast, and unlike most Magicks I did not seem to have a refractory period. I scoffed, like men who need thirty minutes just to get it up for two minutes of grunting. I liked being different. But often times, different meant lonely and I had always been lonely, my parents couldn’t allow me to be around other children to avoid anyone learning of my power. I was tutored at home and my parents did everything they could to make me laugh and happy. Still I was alone. I wanted to go out, I wanted to play, hell, I just wanted to be normal.

Lost in my thoughts, I blinked as I suddenly found myself in front of a gorgeous southern style home with a wraparound porch and swings right in front of the door. Magickal Law Enforcement, I scowl, also known as a pain in my sweet round ass, must have left earlier after asking their questions. Useless if you ask me. I heard the alert on the app I illegally had installed into my phone,don’t judge me, as I was patrolling the city from the shadows and was able to find her pretty quickly. Granted, it took me three days to figure out the gargoyle’s patterns, three children who will never see their friends and families again, who will constantly be mourned. I may not have been able to save those other children, but I was able to save one and any future victims by killing the filthy, fucking, murdering garbage.

I quickly created an illusion—another perk of my powers—of a stout officer with a heavy mustache. I made sure the green and yellow uniform that I had worn, indicating I was from the MLE, was perfect and crisp. Yuck, definitely not my colors, and quite frankly if they were going to suck at their jobs, at least they could dress better and try to look badass. Anyways, I knocked on the door, and a frantic woman in her bathrobe opened the door, and screamed and started sobbing.Ouch. Why do women scream?!I hid my wince. I held in the urge to shuffle my feet as she quickly grabbed Ambrosia and called out for her husband.

“Chad…Chad, she’s home!” she yelled.

A blond man, with permanent laugh wrinkles in his eyes, came to the door, and sighed in relief. He was wearing a college jersey and sweats, and looked just as rough and emotional as his wife.

“Hello ma’am, we were able to find your daughter near the docks before any harm was done, and we caught the Druko responsible.” I schooled my features into a look of relief and happiness, which to be honest wasn’t hard to do because I was feeling both.

Even though I do not do well with emotions, I smiled. In the Magickal Communities, foster parents were a lot different than those in the human world, on the other side of the magical border. We valued our children and did not tolerate abuse of any kind. These kids were fortunate enough to be able to be loved and taken care of by another magickal family who understood their coming powers. I’m not sure how Ambrosia lost her parents, but I’m not one to pry.

I sighed, a lot of these foster parents have lost a child of their own when those children came into their power; it’s a grueling process and can take a toll on the body because some kids just don’t survive the Surge. Most kids came into their power when they turn twelve. I didn’t sense any power on Ambrosia, so she has yet to go through the transition. I hope she survives. I can feel that she has a fortitude in her that reminds me of myself when I was younger.

Ambrosia’s parents thanked me for saving their child, and finally I made my way from their porch and further down the road before I was able to use my hacked phone, to send an encrypted message that the missing child was found and to call off the search. The MLE wouldn’t be able to tell who sent the message but knowing them, they wouldn’t even give a fuck.

The MLE was just a front, the real people who protected the city, protected in shadows. Hell, they were called the Shadows, pretentious fuckers. They were primarily made up of men, and as my dad once eloquently put, they were little bitches of the Magick Council. Ten users that helped contain and use paranormal beings who have special abilities for whatever the Council needed them for. My mother and father were on the Council for years, being the strongest elementals with their perspective power, and being one of the five founding families, they were voices of reason on that corrupt ass-fucking board. For hundreds of years, the Elimentis were known to be very affluent, strong, and level-headed.Our surname turned heads, used to anyway, I thought sadly. Then suddenly on my thirteenth birthday, they didn’t come home. My parents never missed a birthday and they always came home every night. After two days, I put forth our emergency plan, but I knew they were gone. Not just gone, but murdered, because my parents would never leave me. Not willingly.

I didn’t mourn, logically, there was no time. I opened my heart, said goodbye, cleared my mind and focused on finding the truth. I had no proof…yet. I used that time to continue my magickal training and abilities through the vast amounts of information in my childhood home.

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