The kaleidoscope of colours that made up what was left of Jessica’s sight went crazy as soon as they stepped into the house; she could feel walls shifting; things seemed out of place here. Like Alice in Wonderland, or worse, Alice through the damned looking glass. They were sitting in a sunlit room; she could feel the light warm against the curve of her cheek.
“Have you Seen anything useful, girl?”
The voice itself was scary enough, and it did not help in the slightest that Jazzy knew what she looked like from the Sight.
“I Saw enough to bring me here,” Jessica replied nervously.
“Brilliant, you’re here, now See more.”
“Go easy on her, Witch Queen,” Jazzy heard Michael say, an edge creeping into his voice. He faltered, however, under the gaze that was turned on him; Jazzy didn’t need her eyes to be able to feel those eyes; they would have set a blaze to icicles.
“I’m new at this,” Jessica said quietly, “it’s only been two days.”
“I knew Morrigan, she was a Cassandrian like no other. Trust her to die inconveniently and leave me with...this to work with,” Medea replied.
“Now, now, Mercedes, you’re being snappy,” Achilles chided.
“My great-mother’s name was Morgan,” Jazzy said softly.
“It used to be Morrigan,” Medea snapped.
“Well, I knew her as Morgan, and I’m sorry if you feel slighted,” Jessica told her, her voice sharper than she realised, “I know these things: the Dreamer that the Morning Star has is slowly losing her grip on reality. I know we must bring her back soon. That is all.”
“Perhaps I can jog your Sight along,” Medea murmured, apparently completely disregarding what had been said. Jessica started back, but could not escape the carefully-manicured fingers that caught her chin, viciously.
“See.”
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