Chapter #9Twins, and How To Tell Them Apart by: imaj   Aizhan, no Zarina Aliyevscowls at you.
Now you realise the truth, you start to spot the little telltale differences that mark Zarina from her sister. She must be casting her Catilindrian influence out to have befuddled you so that you didn't notice sooner. But that means she is stretching herself: Until you sat down beside her she had no idea where you were so she had to try and affect everyone nearby. That's why Kanj's order got mixed up. And why he got in a argument with the barista over it
A little dribble of sweat runs down the side of her face. Whether that's from nerves or from the strain, it's something you can leverage to your advantage.
"She couldn't stand to see you," hisses Zarina. "You've broken her heart."
Eldibria flows to your will, and you twist a trickle of its power towards Zarina. She's tired, and nervous, practically shouting her emotions at you now Eldibria lets you feel them. So you push back, letting Eldibria erode Zarina's confidence further. "Is that what she told you," you ask her.
"Of course it is," Zarina spits, but the confidence in her words is at odds with the flicker of doubt that passes across her face. "You murdered one of us."
You push harder at her. The stream becomes a torrent, then a flood. You push everything you have at her, trying to undermine her resolve. At the same time you feel her pushing back, trying to pull you into the orbit of her unusual luck. Your prodigies crash into each other, neither yielding.
At the table next to you, a young mother bursts into tears, her emotions caught in the wash back of your power. A barista clumsily trips over her own feet sending a tray of drinks crashing over a table full of men in suits as Zarina's Catilindrian aura crackles and grounds itself into anything nearby save for its intended target. You ignore the screams, your eyes narrowing as you try to concentrate. You search for that little bit extra to overcome Zarina, desperate for any advantage. The invisible conflict between you isn’t one of power, it’s a contest of skill and experience.
And you have much more experience than the Arkhardham.
A tiny flash of doubt gleams momentarily in Zarina's eyes as your efforts slip past her defences. The sense of awkward befuddlement that has been plaguing you since she arrived in the coffee bar eases for the briefest of seconds. It is more than enough for you to hammer at Zarina with a sense of crushing despair. She wilts, her hair cascading over her face as she slumps forward. You snap a hand out across the table and hit her forehead with the flat of your palm. The sigil hovering just above the surface glows with all the power that you can put into it - She'll be asleep for days.
You absorb her imago too, figuring if you've been betrayed once by the substitution of Zarina for her sister, then it would not be much of a leap to betray you a second time. Sure enough, a cursory scan of Zarina's memories tells you she isn't as alone as she is supposed to be. Rick Bredon, your old Stellae mentor is waiting a block away in a hire car, watching the entrance for you.
It figures. You'd thought you'd seen Rick back in Dubai, and you'd always thought he would be the one Rosalie would send to find you. Rick trained you after all and his ousiarchs are a good match for your own. Memories of the ugly knife he favours come back to you unbidden. You don't want to face off with Rick, not right now. With everyone in the coffee bar staring at the accidents caused by Zarina's aura, no one watches as you slip out of your seat and head out through the back.
Rick is waiting for you by the restrooms.
He seems almost unchanged since the last time you saw him. His tatty sports jacket is still just as worn and faded. His shoes still badly scuffed. Only in his stringy hair - greyer now - does he show any signs of aging. That and in his eyes, which seem worn and tired, as if has seen too much darkness with them. Knowing Rick, he probably has.
"You always were too fond of restroom switches squirt," he tells you, his voice heavy. You back up a few steps, nervous. Rick reaches inside his jacket and pulls out that wicked looking blade. The edge gleams in a way that the rest of Rick does not. "How do you want to do this?"
That stops you for a moment. You stare at Rick perplexed, no longer as a veteran with a decade's worth of experience but the same scared teenager you were when you joined the Stellae. It's this face you think. I've hardly been myself in years. A sickening feeling swirls at the bottom of your stomach as you try to suppress your own mental imago. Should that even be possible?
Nonetheless, you manage to muster enough resolve to defiantly squeak an answer at Rick: "I'm not going back."
Rick sighs wearily. "The hard way," he mutters more to himself than to you. Before the words finish tumbling from his lips, he hits you with his prodigies. Hard.
Rick's an Eldibria like you, but he doesn't have your finesse of touch. Instead the raw power of Eldibria courses through you as Rick's lethargy curse saps your will. You flail desperately back, trying to undermine his emotions even as your legs fold up beneath you. It is another contest of skill and experience, and this time you are the disadvantaged one.
Your legs feel dead, your arms numb and heavy and your eyelids are starting to droop. You don't have the energy to stay awake. You barely even have the energy to breath. You search your memories for something that you can use to get past Rick: He's too cautious to come near you and let you try your knockout sigil. His gaze won't waver either, so you'll have no chance of using your cloak to hide yourself. But even your mind seems sluggish and unresponsive. You start to drift off, dreams of the time you spent training with Rick and Kali forming in your mind.
Miko sniffs at the air theatrically. “You’re drunk, I can smell it on your breath,” she shouts. “You’re a filthy drunk that can’t be trusted to do the right thing.”
“You know I work better lubricated,” replies Rick angrily. It’s the closest you’ve seen to him losing his temper. “Besides, I need to be to deal with you,” he mutters.
“What,” screeches Miko. “Well at least the stink of the booze hides the stink of you. When was the last time you bathed? Six months ago?”
“And when was the last time you had a good fuck,” replies Rick in kind, the question stunning both Miko and you. “Oh that’s right, I know. Two hundred and seventy five days ago…”
Rick is cut short as Miko pounces at him with the feral grace of a cat. He staggers back a few steps before falling on his ass, Miko’s weight bearing him to the floor. Just as you think you are about to watch your tutors murder each other, Miko does something far more surprising.
With a snarl she lunges at Rick’s mouth and starts suckling noisily at it. They make long, luscious, squelching sounds, and Miko makes little roaring noises in her throat. She raises herself up long enough to hiss at him. "Oh, God, you've been with filth, you filth! If I catch something from you…"
You switch to Miko's imago, vainly hoping to distract Rick, but he's too experienced to let it faze him. "Ain't falling for it squirt," he growls before redoubling his efforts with Eldibria.
Then the bleeding starts.
You haven't used Miko's imago since the day you hit that Fane front in Leeds with Kali. You, or at least the copy of Miko you carried around with you, had been injured then - the well toned Miko-flesh torn open by the thorn clad vines of an essentia imbued plant. The wound is still there, perfectly preserved in Miko's imago, along with the vicious poison that had tipped the thorns. You'd meant to discard her imago back then, but in the chaos of what happened afterwards you had forgotten about it.
Miko's blood seeps into your tee, staining it dark red. Normally blood would vanish after it leaked from you, separated from the magic that gave it form, but the tee is just close enough to your skin that remains. A little speckle of green foam bubbles on your lips.
The sight is enough to open just a tiny crack in Rick’s assault. A little bit of life seeps back into your tired limbs and you manage to moan quietly.
Rick runs a hand over his chapped lips. "Did you do this to her," he growls, taking a step forward.
You haven't seen Miko for years, but Rick doesn't know that. You look up at him and mumble something incoherent. Just a little closer.
"Talk dammit." Another step forward. He's almost within touching distance.
"Miko..." you mumble. "I..." Come on, take a couple more steps. Rick kneels down beside you, his knife at your throat. You chuckle wetly, and it turns into a wracking cough. More green foam burbles from your mouth. He hasn't realised his mistake.
With what little vigour you have left you reach out and grab his wrist. The knockout sigil flares in your hand and you grab a fresh copy of his imago. You aren't fast enough to stop Rick's blade from cutting deeply into your throat, but you were never going to be. Rick's mistake was in assuming that the threat of opening your throat would be enough to deter you, but he wasn't there when you came back from the dead in Saratoga Falls. You shed Miko's imago for your own as Rick topples to the floor asleep.
Then you bolt and run.
To stop reminiscing, attend to Fi's reports in "A Short Hop" 
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