Seeking Souls

:// Chapter 34 //:

"If this really is the Martyr, we'll have our work cut out for us." Donovan picked at file after file that were scattered over his desk. Even after years working as a Hunter he never really seemed to get the hang of whole organization thing. "We've seen him pop in and out of existence for years; pretty peaceful for a soul-sucker, but he scares all the other's shitless."

"Why?" Warren carefully handled one of the yellowing folders from the early 1700s. Apparently the Martyr was seen stalking a girl working in a nearby candy-shop before she was snatched off the street.

"Didn't Aspen tell you?" Donovan spat into his designated 'spit pot'. Despite being a Hunter, one of the few beings actually upholding the peace in the world, Donny sure kept up with some nasty habits.

Warren avoided the gaze of his superior. You have to know how to read people for this job, and despite his sociopathic-advantage he was still a novice compared to his master. Truth be told, Warren hasn't heard anything from Aspen since he took her back to base all those weeks ago, and it bothered him.

"It's because they all have the same theory about him: that he's one of the firsts." Donovan noticed Warren's distance (well-'unforthcoming nature' because he's always emotionally distant) but he didn't say anything. "Kids."

"First what?"

"The first of his kind. The Martyr goes all the way back to when the first Hunters revolted against the Supernatural." Donovan paused, and then shrugged. "Or 'kindly fell in line with the Angels' if you prefer Alexander's way."

"You know I don't." Warren grinned wickedly, and Donny reflected his muse. That kind of crooked charisma is something Warren only could've learned from him.

"Well because of that fear, nobody's really touched him. Nothing worth mentioning anyway, and the bastard's brain is so mushy he can't remember most of it anyway." Donovan tossed a few more files aside, and then with one shift motion he shoved a cascade of papers into the floor. "Look, the Enchantress is dead, the Red Devil is being hunted by Angels, this guy is our last bet. Now I know you don't want to use your sister-"

Warren immediately retaliated before Donovan could even get the words out. "Why would we? She's being manipulated."

Donovan slapped the novice. "She's being what?"

"She's been-" Another slap. "Would you-" And another. "Quit!"

"Then stop being stupid." He spat. "You know as well as I do that Corin isn't the type. She's with them out of her own free will. You can't pretend that she's being controlled just because it makes you feel better about potentially killing her best friend."

"I don't feel bad about anything." Warren crossed his arms. As depressing as that statement is, it's also the firmest position he had.

"Yea but she does, and you want an excuse."

Warren grimaced. He couldn't argue with that.

"Listen kid." Donovan gripped Warren's shoulder tightly; his thick black nails almost digging too far into his skin. "I know she's important to you, but the cat's out of the bag. We need to take care of this quickly before Alexander notices-because if he does then she's really in trouble."

"I know." Warren glared at the floor as if it owed him it's life. "Trust me, I'm very aware.."

"Then come on." Donovan ruffled Warren's hair. "I got an idea."

~%~

"Elias, put that thing away." Cassiel dived into room with her white wings glittering still from the fresh landing. It's been a while since she disappeared on a lead about Loki's whereabouts, and since then the other Angel's had been peacefully biding their time within Crawford's home.