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Tillie willed herself to breathe evenly as she rolled her eyes back, looking into her future once again. The Auditors were coming.
In three, two, one – she ducked back around the corner as a stitcher blinked in just down the narrow alleyway between the two buildings of her motel.
Her eyes still white, Tillie kept her sight just one second ahead as the woman attacked. Tillie bobbed and weaved, avoiding each strike just before she struck.
The Auditor spoke, and from Tillie’s vantage point of one second in the future, the stitcher’s voice sounded like it was coming from the bottom of a well. “On the defense, seer? I will wear you down.”
“Will you?” Tillie asked. “Or will you give up? Why don’t you bastards just let it go?”
“You are an abomination,” said the Auditor. “You need to be re-educated.”
“Oh, cool. I’ve always wanted to be an abomination.” Tillie laughed, diving to the strip of grass off to the side and coming up in a tidy summersault. She spun around as another Auditor, a heavy-set man, came running down the alley toward her, breathing heavily as he skidded to a halt. “It’s funny how you guys get to both make the rules and enforce them.”
“We don’t make them,” said the newcomer, hands glowing.
Tillie kicked at the speller’s face, and he danced backward. Thank goodness for those krav maga classes Trevor had dragged her to.
“These rules have existed for centuries,” added the stitcher, renewing her physical attack as the speller began flinging fireballs at Tillie’s feet. “For the good of the universe.”
“You wouldn’t want to tear the very fabric of the universe, would you?” chided the speller, pausing in his assault.
Interesting – if they were attacking her feet, they must not want to kill her. Tillie smiled, dodging blows from both directions. As she moved, she slowly wound her way in a small semicircle, drawing the stitcher and the speller together, until one direction of the hallway was clear.
Then, abruptly, she sprinted down the alley, ducking into an alcove and sliding behind a vending machine. Quickly, she snapped out of her sight mode, muttering a Latin phrase and repeating it over and over again to disguise her presence. A natural speller would have been able to set it once and let it sit, but she wasn’t there yet.
She continued the spell as she heard footsteps outside.
“Come out, little abomination,” crooned the stitcher.
“Where is she?” said the speller, his voice suffused with frustration.
“She’s spelling,” said the stitcher in disgust. “She must be.” She raised her voice. “You’ve escaped again, bitch. But you can’t run forever.”
“Let’s go,” said the speller. “Can you stitch us out of here?”
“Jeez, Jerry. How lazy are you?” scoffed the stitcher. “We’re parked two blocks away. Walking will do you some good.”
Tillie kept up her shield for a good ten minutes until she was sure they’d gone, growing more tired with each repetition of the spell. Finally, drained and weary, she released the shield.
Her mind raced as she closed her eyes, leaning her head back against the wall. How had they found her? That had been a closer call than she wanted to admit to herself.
She missed Trevor so much it hurt. She wished she could call him, but that would just put him in danger.
She needed to run again. So much for holing up in a small town. So much for time to breathe and practice new skills. It was time to move on.