Savannah screamed in frustration, slamming her hastily bandaged fists down on the paper-strewn desk. Alone she sat brooding in her dark corner office; the thick drapes behind her were drawn tightly closed, as they always were, to keep the strange happenings inside the building shrouded from the prying eyes of non-Elementalist passersby. Pale silver light from the full moon filtered into the office from the large skylights above, dimly illuminating the seething outline of the woman, whose battered body trembled with anger. Her short, severely cropped hair fell in a glossy black curtain over the right side of her face; she had carefully tucked the rest behind her left ear, exposing the bloodied, charred skin from the plume of Fire the Pentamancer known as Rowan had hurled in her direction before she was finally restrained – only to escape again, mere hours later.
Savannah glanced at the antagonizing clock on the wall, her green eyes narrowing at the ticking hands. 1:07 a.m. Every minute that passed took the Pentamancer farther away, farther from her reach. Gritting her teeth, she unscrewed the white bottle of pills Dr. Chen had given her and swallowed another Vicodin with a swig of lukewarm, black coffee. The pain from the burns she had sustained just a few hours prior should have been excruciating, but right now, they were merely an annoyance. Two floors below, her head of security still hadn’t woken and the maddening doctor wouldn’t let her rouse him; his second-in-command, Strauss, had also been rushed to the burn ward, totally incapacitated. Everything was up to her now – not that Savannah minded being the one in control. She had to find the girl. Everything depended on it.
The phone rang just then, jarring her from her thoughts. Her heart felt as though it might stop at any moment.
What am I going to tell them?
After the third unrelenting ring, she picked up the phone, working to control her voice as carefully as she could.
“Hello, this is Savannah.” She smiled as she spoke, trying to sound calm and pleasant. The smile tugged on the fresh burns covering her left cheek, causing her to wince in pain. Her voice sounded raspy in her own ears.
“Where is the Pentamancer?” came a thick, deep voice.
“Ah, yes, well… It seems that she managed to overtake our doctor and escape from the hospital…” She could hear the man’s sharp intake of breath and hurried on before he could interject. “But don’t worry – she’s not far; with powers as strong as hers we’ll be able to sense her next big surge. I’ve already commanded our entire Containment Division here to—”
“So,” the man interrupted, his voice cold and dispassionate, “What you’re telling me is that you claim to have found the first true Pentamancer in over three hundred years. You then take it upon yourself to inform every major chapter worldwide of your discovery without first discussing with us. And then you abruptly lose her?” Even through the phone, the condemnation in his voice made Savannah’s clammy skin erupt in goosebumps.
She swallowed hard, tightly clenching her free hand into a balled fist in her lap. Her fingernails, broken and jagged from the earlier ‘situation’ in the arena, were cutting into the skin of her palm. She didn’t notice.
“Before we apprehended her tonight, Lawson’s boy had been working diligently to turn Rowan against us. But I promise you, Magistrate, I will find her. I will change her mind. And when I do have her, I will bring her directly to you.”
“The Inner Circle and I will be expecting hourly updates regarding the girl’s successful procurement. You know the consequences if you fail, Aggregator. Do not let us down.”
The line went dead.
Savannah hung up the phone hastily then reached across the desk for the white bottle again, her hand shaking as she fumbled to unscrew the top for another pill. The lid clattered to the desk, making a deafening sound in the otherwise silent room. She swallowed the bitter, chalky tablet with a shudder, then pulled open the bottom drawer of her desk, where she kept a faded photo of a smiling, copper-haired woman. Savannah stared down at the image resting atop a pile of disorganized papers for a long moment, the corners of her eyes pricking with stinging tears.
Abruptly, she slammed the drawer shut again and gracefully rose from her leather chair, gently smoothing her wrinkled, singed blouse.
For you, Emily.