Characters in this post
View character profile for: Luke MacTiernan
View character profile for: Mishka Doshkov
The Witch of Perun
Mishka cupped her hands around the warm mug of her coffee. She was warmly dressed in a fur-lined parka, a sweater, jeans, and knee-high riding boots. The little cafe she was sitting at was mostly empty except for an elderly couple in the corner who looked fairly benign. They were also zrádci like her. In fact they were her handlers, here to make sure everything went according to plan.
Mishka could feel their eyes discreetly boring into the small of her back. She took another sip of her mocha, watching the street with anxious eyes. She'd texted Luke a few hours ago to arrange a lunch at this cafe. He said he was hunting a harpy but promised to meet her.
If Luke was present for Menhit's attack the goddess wouldn't last very long against his summoning abilities. Fortunately enough for Mishka he hadn't been present for Bres's message, either - she would've killed the irský bůh herself if he'd so much as touched Luke.
Which was why her handlers were present now. They'd noticed her attachment to the Irishman quite quickly despite her efforts to hide it and now insisted on monitoring her every encounter with him. If her feelings for Luke interfered with the Osvícených's schemes both would pay with blood.
Speaking of blood, Luke MacTiernan finally slid into the seat opposite Mishka with a few large drops of the redness decorating his collar.
Mishka sipped her mocha slowly. "Is that yours or the harpy's?"
Following her gaze Luke grinned. "The harpy's. But that's not why you asked me here, is it?"
The witch averted her eyes to the tablecloth and set her mug down slowly. "Ano, about that... I've caught wind the Illuminati's in town, and they've found the Nest."
Luke's smile fell in an instant. "Are my friends in danger?"
Mishka cocked her head, a smirk tugging at the corners of her mouth. "I thought you didn't have friends, Ir."
The warlock smacked the table with his fist. "Don't joke about the Illuminati, Mishka. Just tell me - are my friends alive?"
Across from him the Czech woman tilted her head slightly, eyeing him with cold blue irises. "They are, for now. But I don't know for how long." She pointed past him to the furious streaks of lightning that were illuminating the sky. "That lightning isn't Thor's, Luke. That's your friends."