Ballard looked like a narc from a '70s cop show with his stringy hair hanging over the shoulders of his beat-up, oxblood leather jacket. His partner Tazaki seemed to be playing along, leaning against the car cross-armed but not quite looking the part in his long sleeved polo and Roy Orbison sunglasses.

He was always wearing those lousy sunglasses of his. Night or day, inside or out, those Ray Bans sat on his nose. It was his disguise even when he wasn't supposed to be in disguise. Alicia knew he did it to camouflage his Asian features, but it only made her more aware of his foreignness.

The Society of the Immortal Blood was certainly no white supremacist group and she wasn't racist or anything but how could anyone become an incarnate if they could never actually pass for the great man. Of course, many said the same thing about the women who joined. Even though some women, like Janet for instance, had achieved the sixth tier and was a perfect incarnate, proving it could be done. Still, they said she could never make seventh, or the ultimate eighth tier, without getting reassignment surgery and taking it all the way. It didn't matter that she already was a better Kyle Silver than most of these jokers.

"So are you going to tell us why you pulled us off the search or do we have to guess?" Ballard demanded.

"Hey, don't look at me." Brett held up his hands in surrender.

Fucking wimp. He knew damn well why they were there.

They were outside a roadside bar halfway between Fort Stockton and Sheffield after a day of driving around and futile searching. Parked at the edge of the lot, they were left alone by the customers milling about by the door. The twang of the country western guitars filtered out into the cold night along with a few words about broken hearted love affairs. As if to mock their failure a little more, the forecast was actually calling for snow—snow in fucking Texas. Alicia hadn't even packed a warm sweater.

"Something is wrong," she said.

"Yeah, Babe. The Holy Beast is out there or have you forgotten."

"Shove it, Tazaki. The adults need to talk." Tazaki interrupted the process of getting a cigarette out and lit to mime laughter, clutching his belly as he rocked back and forth.

"Headquarters has gone dark and now Eagle team isn't answering."

Ballard cracked his knuckles, fingers spread like wings. "They're probably getting weather on the mountain. And if Eagle has dropped out... Well then, that's just less competition for us. Now, Ken and I just have to wait for you two losers to fuck off."

"This isn't a competition. We're in this together."

"I thought you said we couldn't let them beat us," Brett decided to chime in. Why couldn't the ass keep to his movie quotes tonight? They couldn't be any less helpful than this clueless act, which wasn't really an act.

"Shut up," she hissed at him from the side of her mouth.

Tazaki laughed genuinely this time, as sharp and brittle as the frost forming on the windscreens. "So what is this really about? Are you just trying to get our intel?"

"You have intel?" Brett asked.

Alicia spoke over him. "I'm worried. The girl has disappeared and we're completely cut off. Things are going to shit out here."

"So, Babe?" Tazaki said. "What do you propose we do about it?"

"Other than what we're suppose to be doing?" Ballard added. "We need to keep looking for her and stick to the plan."

"The plan vanished along with the girl. We should stick together."

"So you admit you need our help, Babe. Or maybe just someone to keep you warm tonight." Tazaki spit out tobacco smoke with his snicker.

Alicia's thumb hooked into the waistband of her jeans. If she didn't stop it there, it would wander to the gun at the small of her back. These idiots were begging for a slap down. Drawing the Glock 17 would be counterproductive but that didn't mean she wasn't tempted.

Ever since Janet had given her the piece, it had grown into a totem, like a god she could hold—the Grim Reaper carved into two pounds of steel.

The feel of it in her hand was like nothing she had ever held before—it wasn't dead weight, it was energized. The smell of the powder and the oil was intimate like the sweat and semen of a lover. How had she ever lived without it?

How many problems would it have solved, if she had had it when she was young?

Of course, Janet said all those things were trials leading her to The Society. Maybe without those horrible experiences, she would have been normal, dull. Alicia might now be a barista or a hostess at a restaurant asking if people had a reservation, instead of being on a mission to change the world.

No, as much as she would have liked to bring death down on those who hurt her and belittled her, she was better off. The pain had led her to The Society. And besides, when the new order rose up, all those people from her past would all be crushed beneath it and ground to dust, while she had a seat at the table with the supreme few picked by God to take over.

Alicia still remembered when Janet found her. She was so pathetic back then. Nothing but a runaway without a dollar to her name and only a few days away from death, or a worse fate. She was stupid and self-pitying. She hadn't even heard of Kyle Silver. Janet took her in and opened her eyes. Gave her a family and a purpose. She taught Alicia about the coming of the beast and the end of this failed world. She put this instrument of death in her hand and set her free, transformed like a butterfly.

Which was probably why Alicia was so concerned that headquarters wasn't answering—that no new instructions had been issued since they lost the girl. If something happened on the mountain—if they had been raided by those fascist feds—if there had been an accident... Janet was up there.

Was she alright? Was she still free?

Alicia decided to circle the wagons because something was seriously wrong and these three douchebags couldn't see it. It would be so easy to pop them. Weed out this weakness from The Society.

But what was it Janet had told her? "Not everyone who hears the call is smart or good or brave. But once they step on the path to become an incarnate, they are Silver. Whatever is done to them is done to him."

So her hand stopped at the end of her right hip.

"Fine," she said. "You don't want to work together. That's just fine. But keep your eyes open and be careful."

Ballard and Tazaki got back in their car. Alicia created a wall of silence between them and her—a force field of white noise to help her ignore their taunts and jibes. They thought she was a joke.

The Glock whispered its sympathies to her.

Brett just said, "See. I told you it was a waste of time."

"You're a waste of time."

"It's like he said, there's probably just a storm. We'll hear from them in the morning."

Alicia didn't say anything. She just got in the car slamming the door behind her.

"So where to, bud?" Brett asked. His voice was twisted into a half accent. Maybe this was supposed to be another of his movie lines. Maybe he was imitating a taxi driver.

"We're flying blind. Your guess is as good as mine."

He pulled away continuing along the route, heading into the unknown going town to town looking for signs of the girl. But after a mile or so, he spoke again, his tone raw with his chicken-shit fear. "Al? If we don't get in touch with them tomorrow what do we do?"

"The only thing we can do," she said. "Call in New Hampshire."

"Fuck..."

"Yeah fuck is right."

Alicia checked the sights on the Glock, pulled the magazine, popped the round in the chamber, and reloaded it. Calling in New Hampshire was the nuclear option. The last resort. If she was wrong, she'd bring hell down on her head. And down on everyone she cared about.

***

Author's Note: Sorry for the short scene this week. I usually don't care so much about length but I'm also not too happy with it. I really wanted to bring Alicia back to keep her in the story, only I couldn't think of much to give her to do with Amy AWOL. But I promise next week will have a huge Amy moment.