Heretical Edge

Okay, well this obviously wasn't fair at all. I had gone through all that, made such a big show of things before showing up here specifically to surprise these guys and leave them in shock and awe. And yet, with just a few words from Saign, I was the one who was left reeling in confusion. Inwardly, at least. To my great relief, even though I would totally have gaped open-mouthed at the words that were still rebounding through my head, I wasn't the only one in here. Wordsmith instantly took over, jumping in to take firm control of both our general facial expression and especially our mouth. We showed no reaction at all to those words, entirely thanks to her quick actions. Our eyes didn't even widen at all. It was a totally blank poker face. I wasn't even sure how bad it would be for them to know we were surprised, but I knew we didn't want to find out. I sure as hell wouldn't give Fossor the satisfaction of it.

So, from the point of view of those two and all their troops with those guns still pointed my way, I was just standing there, completely silent and stoic while giving no visible response to what their boss-- well one of their bosses-- had just dramatically announced. I felt them searching my face, waiting for me to say something even as their fingers continued to be held close to triggers. If I so much as sneezed wrong in that moment, I was pretty sure they would all open fire. Not that it would do them much good, given how ready I was with my energy absorption, and had several ways to get out of there if it came down to it. But still, if anyone was going to get to start throwing a bunch of violence into the mix, it should have been me breaking every single bone in Fossor's body, damn it.

Okay, no, I wasn't that stupid. I knew I couldn't take him, not like this. I didn't have a real chance, obviously. But that didn't stop the part of me (parts of me really, with the rest of the Flique added into things) that were very interested in taking a few swings at that fucker, damn the consequences.

Instead, I accepted control back from Wordsmith once she was sure I had myself contained and could do so without sputtering or giving away anything, and simply gave a light chuckle. "And you think I'd be, what, pleased by the choices you've made of what to do with that gift?" I made sure to keep the scorn very evident in my tone, while the actual words themselves were carefully chosen by Wordsmith herself to avoid giving anything away. It was meant to be unclear, in the words, whether I already knew about Saign being a… a Natural Heretic of me or not. And yes, it was a thought that made me want to go scream into a paper bag a bit, because what the fuck?

"Ahem." That was Fossor, the sound of his voice, even clearing his throat making me want to tense up. Well, technically what it really made me want to do was start screaming my head off, spitting every curse I had ever learned at him (of both the magical and foul language kind) while hitting him with every bit of damage I could. Including a full barrage from the Cryptseeker. Yes, it would be worse than pointless. All I would be doing was killing plenty of those innocent people back on his home planet. And that realization, even more than the knowledge that I couldn't win such a fight, was what convinced me to stay right where I was and simply look that way in total silence.

Somehow, I managed to meet his gaze without showing any reaction. Wordsmith did help a bit, but also I had calmed down enough to keep myself mostly under control. Actually, it was Fossor who seemed more openly annoyed than I was. He was practically shooting laser beams out of his eyes at me, glaring intently while speaking with clear anger. "I fail to see how your opinion of your former protege's actions should affect… anything in any way, oh flamboyant one." Yeah, he wasn't even really trying to keep the distaste and scorn out of his voice. Or maybe he actually was trying, in which case, damn Jacob really pissed him off. "Just as I fail to see why you've come here at all, oh chronologically confused one." As he said that part, Fossor summoned a veritable swarm of ghosts around us. Just like that, with barely a thought, he had the entire area surrounded with what had to be a thousand of the things, in addition to the living troops who were already here. As if I needed a reminder of just how strong the bastard was after I already reminded myself of how futile fighting would be.

Yes, fighting-brawling against the horrible and evil slime would be impossible, ill-advised, dumb, Wordsmith noted thoughtfully. That much has never been in doubt. But we should pay attention to and notice and focus on what that means. If it is so obvious and apparent that he hates and loathes and detests us this much-- or at least hates our Jacob self so much, then why hasn't he-

Attacked us, I finished for her abruptly. Why hasn't he attacked us? Fossor never does anything he doesn't want to do. If he's this angry at us, why hasn't he already made those ghosts try to rip us apart? Obviously we could hold off some of them, but… he's holding back for some reason.

I had no idea why he would be doing that, but I kept it in mind while focusing on the man in question once more. We'd had that entire conversation within a couple seconds, before I spoke out loud. "And I fail to see…" I trailed off a bit, my mind reeling once more. Because in that very second, I had just realized the truth. I knew why Fossor wasn't just ripping us apart and spitting on the remains, why he couldn't do that no matter how much he very obviously loathed Jacob. It was because he couldn't. He'd said 'chronologically confused one.' He knew we were a time traveler, that we had come back from some point in the future and were jumping around the timeline. I really didn't think he knew that many specifics, obviously, but he knew enough to understand that we did things throughout history that affected his future. Hell, they probably affected what was his current 'present.' And because we jumped all around time, he had no idea what parts of that Jacob had already done. He just didn't know if it was safe to kill us at any given moment because doing so might stop us from going to another point in time to do something he still needed to be done to keep things intact. And that was probably why he had Saign here in the first place. Assuming the fucker really was a Natural Heretic of… of me (yeah I was just gonna shove that in a box and get back to it soon), Fossor had probably found and kept him around to try to make sense of Jacob's own timeline.

It was that realization that led me to another one. I knew why Fossor hated me so much-- or why he hated Jacob, rather. It wasn't just that he couldn't kill me, though that was a big part of it. No, he loathed me so much because there was something I could do that was far, far worse for him.

I could troll the absolute living shit out of the fucking bastard.

"-- why you're being such a gloomy Gus, Fossy!" I abruptly finished the sentence I'd started a second earlier, before all those realizations flooded my mind. I was adopting an overly cheerful tone that I knew was going to stab right into his soul in a way I could never manage physically. "Is that any way to talk to someone who helped provide the person you turned to for help in whatever little scheme you've got going on right now?" My hand waved toward Saign, who was still standing out of the way in the entrance to the cabin. "I don't even get a thank you muffin? Maybe a basket of cookies?"

If Fossor could have allowed himself to actually kill me, he probably would have at that moment. I saw his eyes narrow, as he did his level best to give the world's most nonchalant laugh. It really didn't work. There was too much brittleness to the sound. The chuckle seemed to crack partway through. "Person I've turned to for help?" His head twisted, looking back over his shoulder at the man in question. "You think this pathetic castoff of yours is here because I need him? Let's be clear, he is the one who came to me. He pleaded for a chance to prove his worth, for an opportunity to learn from a man who could teach him the secrets of bending the dead to his will."

"And he couldn't get me to do it, so he came to his second choice!" I put in, still with that fake cheer that I knew was grating at him almost as much as the actual words. I had no idea what had really happened, so I chose words that would work if some other me along the timeline had actually physically told Saign to fuck off, or if he had just been unable to find Jacob at all. 'He couldn't get me to do it' would technically apply in either of those situations. I didn't know how my blood had reached him, how he became Bonded to me, how-- yeah I didn't know any of that.

"Look, Fossy," I repeated the name I knew had to be making his blood boil, "whatever all this is that you've got going on around this place, it's pretty clear that you're getting a lot of work out of my…" I glanced that way, seeing Saign staring back at me with an expression I couldn't read. "-- ah, castoff as you put it. He's done a lot for you and I'd just appreciate a little thank you, that's all."

Even as I said that, my hand waved toward the ghosts Fossor had summoned to surround us. Well, the front line of them anyway. I didn't try to dismiss them or take control away from the man, not really. I didn't expect to actually be able to overpower him that way. Instead, I turned the ghosts bright neon pink, and gave half green polka dots while the other half had orange stripes. It was just a simple color change, but I knew it would tick Fossor off. Sure enough, he immediately turned them back. I felt the hard shove from his power forcing my own out of his ghosts just to let him make them look normal once more.

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So what did I do? Well, obviously I focused on a different section of his ghost army and gave all of them, every single one, hilariously long beards and mustaches, along with giant ten gallon cowboy hats. Again, it was a meaningless visual change, but it made Fossor shove my power out of them even harder that time, practically making me stumble back.

Are you sure-certain-positive that we aren't trying to kill and murder and eliminate this man? Wordsmith put in curiously. Because there is a non-zero chance and prospect that his brain may actually explode if we keep pushing him this much. Or, she added a bit more somberly, he may just decide and choose to ignore the fact that he needs to keep us alive. He can have a bit of a temper.

She wasn't wrong about that, but at least what I was doing was definitely keeping his attention on me, which worked for Sands and Sarah. They needed me to get them all the time I could.

Fossor, by that point, had taken in a deep breath before letting it out. He was obviously doing his best to control himself so he wouldn't lash out. "I will give you one chance to walk away now."

"Walk away?" I did the very last thing I wanted to do in that moment, stepping forward right up to where Fossor was. I crossed the distance between us, putting myself directly in front of the man. We were practically nose to nose. "Now why would I do that when I can stay and see just what sort of work you're putting my Bonded to? After all, I kind of feel responsible for the little guy."

It was Saign's turn to make a noise of discontent, stepping closer with an annoyed, "Little guy? You have no idea what--" His words were cut off as a ghost appeared and gave him a shove back toward the doorway. Fossor hadn't even taken his eyes off me or made any gesture at all. The ghost just pushed Saign back, the warning very clear. And he just accepted that. I saw him make a motion with one hand that seemed to be an order for the rest of the troops around here, because they all finally lowered their weapons. Not that that actually made the situation any less dangerous, obviously. Between Fossor and all those guys with guns, they accounted for maybe half of one percent of the actual threat level. But sure, let them stop pointing guns at us. Maybe their arms were getting tired.

"Leave," Fossor ordered, clearly at the very end of his patience. "You have no business here. This energy is--" He stopped then, his words cutting off abruptly as something occurred to him. "Or maybe you do have business here," the man murmured thoughtfully, lifting his chin as he gave me another, more curious look. "The energy we detected, it could be… hm. I don't think your old mentor actually came here for you at all," he noted without even looking at Saign. "I think he came because he wants that energy all to himself. He's trying to find it too. Have a large spell in mind, do you? Need a little bit of a boost to make it happen?"

Well that answered so much. Not everything, obviously. But now I knew that they did know about the energy from the rift, but didn't know what it actually was. And they didn't know exactly where it was. They were looking for it out here. But what did that have to do with the town? Why had Saign and his people been terrorizing them, abducting young women for… who knew what before eventually just taking everyone? The moment we showed up and fought those guys, they had taken the entire town, and now those people were stuck behind a fence, like prisoners. Why? What did taking women and then the whole town have to do with finding the rift? Were they making those people look? Why would they specifically take the young women first? Why act like regular bandits just terrorizing the town for no apparent reason? What was going on?

Okay, so maybe there were more questions than I'd originally thought. This entire situation was so confusing. I couldn't figure it out. Yes, it did make sense that Fossor would show up to investigate that sort of energy and try to use it for his own ends. But would he really have anything to do with the rest of it? What does he care about some random town? What did he get out of messing with them the way Saign and his people had been doing?

Maybe-possibly he did not have anything to do with it before, Wordsmith pointed out. Saign could have been here-in this place on his own and without oversight, doing this with his people. Then they detected that rift energy and informed-told-sent an alert to Fossor.

That actually made more sense than the idea that Fossor had just been sitting around watching these guys play cowboy bandits. He really didn't seem like the type to go for that. He would have been here for a reason, and finding out about some strange, unidentified energy from that rift would be a pretty good one.

With a wave of my hand, I gave Fossor's front line of ghosts an assortment of colorful hats of all shapes and sizes, along with rainbow wigs and clown noses. At the same time, I laughed out loud as though I was just so amused by the accusation from Fossor. "Eh, well, some of us don't need artificial boosts to cast our spells. But don't worry, Fossy, I'm sure you'll get there someday. And when you do, you'll look back on the days when you had to scrounge in the desert looking for scraps of extra power and say, 'Boy, I really grew a lot since then.'"

I did the very last thing--okay one of the very last things I ever wanted to do then. I reached out, putting a hand on his shoulder. I was pushing it so much, I knew that. but I also knew that there was no chance Fossor in the future would ever believe that Felicity Chambers would act this way with him. I was protecting my identity the only way I could. So, with my hand on his shoulder like that, squeezing lightly, I added with a mix of casual arrogance and dismissal, "But you know what you'll never have, no matter how many secret wells of magical energy you dig up?"

His smile was obviously forced and brittle, as his hand came up to push mine off his shoulder. He tried to make it look casual, but I felt the anger in the shove even as he spoke tersely. "As I have told you before, traveler, the only information from you that I'm interested in is what you have already declined to give me. Unless that has changed, I don't need to hear anything else."

Leaning back on my heels, I interlaced my fingers and stretched languidly, cracking my knuckles while continuing my thought as though he hadn't said anything at all. "Style, Fossy. You'll never have--" My arms spread out, rising above my head in something a bit like a ballerina's pose. "--style."

With that, I snapped my fingers on both hands, speaking a sharp word. In that moment, the Cryptseeker fired from its position far overhead, Seth and a few other ghosts up there having taken all that time to very carefully take aim. They weren't shooting at Fossor, of course. They weren't even shooting at Saign or any of his people, mostly because I hadn't wanted to risk setting off any danger sense any of them might have had. Instead, the guns were aimed at the ground behind me, back through that side of the camp. Even more importantly, they were dialed down to the lowest possible damage setting, but the brightest light setting. Basically, lots of flash, very little actual force or heat. The shots, almost a dozen of them, were just enough to do exactly what they were meant to: make a big show and kick a massive amount of dust into the air.

It was a dust cloud that rose behind me while several people panicked and shouted, their weapons coming right back out again. I even felt Fossor surrounding the area in even more ghosts, calling up a whole new swarm, far more than I could ever even hope to affect even a decent percentage of. But they all stopped just as suddenly when they noticed the dust cloud had formed itself into a shape, thanks to a spell Sarah had taught me. A spell I had activated with that snapped finger. It allowed me to make simple shapes out of dust. I couldn't fight with it like I could with my sand, but I could make the dust stay in one place and make various images just by thinking about it.

And in this case, the image I was thinking about, the one the dust cloud formed itself into, was enough to make Fossor stop short the moment he recognized it. "That… is…"

"Oh that?" I offered him a wolfish smile. "That's your house. Your own personal mansion. I think I got the likeness right, but maybe you could run back and check to make sure." Belatedly, I added, "And while you're at it, you should probably find and disable all those explosive fire spells I scattered around through that place. I think there were fourteen of them, maybe fifteen? If it helps, they're all on a staggered delay and the first one shouldn't go off for… hold on…"

Fossor's head jerked around to stare off in the distance, as he was obviously alerted to the very real fire that had just started back at his secret home. A home I knew about because he had taken me there and imprisoned me. A home that was one of several places I had teleported back to just before coming up to this place, using my own control over the scattered ghosts and knowledge of his security spells to do so without being detected. And now that home was on fire.

"You!" If Fossor hadn't already hated Jacob, he sure did now, taking a step toward me while his ghosts closed in.

"You could waste your time fighting me, Fossy," I pointed out. "Or you could deal with that fire before it gets out of control, and gains a lot more friends. It's your choice. But you know, the last I saw, you were keeping some pretty important things locked away in there." Before he could respond, I raised my hand and then made a sharp motion with two fingers. "While you're at it, maybe check the house in Paris, or the one about thirty miles south of New York. Oh who can keep track, you better just check on all your properties."

Practically spitting with rage, Fossor glared daggers through me. "The day will come, Jacob… the day will come."

"If you mean the day will come when you totally redo your landscaping, it's already here," I casually informed him, my smile completely at odds with his look of apoplectic rage. "Cuz there goes the eastern garden. I really hope you didn't like those flowers."

With a sound of barely constrained nuclear fury, Fossor was engulfed in magical energy. Then he was gone, making the odds of us surviving the next few minutes and actually managing to save these people a hell of a lot better than they had been.

But I knew one thing for sure. I really didn't want to be here when that man came back.