Do Something!

Gunnar was troubled.

Meirys had gone rogue more than a millennia ago. Gunnar had still been on his first life, then, with no idea there was world beyond the one he'd known, or how many lives he would live. By the time Hunter was old enough to enter the Hunter Corps, she'd been evading capture or centuries. Her tricks and techniques were the subject of intense study for all aspiring Hunters—she was they prey they all wanted, but knew they would ever catch. That Gunnar had gotten close to her not once, but three times now, put him among the top five most skilled Hunters in the corps.

Her escape the third time was entirely lucky. Her extraordinarily good luck, his extraordinarily bad luck. Centuries of practice had made him almost as good at hiding his presence as she was. Most of Gunnar's targets didn't know he was coming until he pulled them away from their stolen lives and delivered them to the council. If Rhys hadn't moved so quickly, if she hadn't gotten her hands on hundreds of Soul Stones only hours into her new life, if he'd picked a different host and not gotten himself shot. If, if, if.

But all of that HAD happened, and she'd jumped out of Amalthea's body and right into a new life. Her luck had ended there, though. Gunnar had gotten to the body in time to catch the traces of her flight, and he'd been able to follow.

And that was why he was unsettled.

Why was Meirys so damned easy to track this time?

She'd practically lit a beacon when she took Princess Amalthea's body. Following her to this world was like playing hide and seek with a toddler. A toddler who kept giggling and though hidden behind a kitchen chair was sneaky.

It had taken only seconds to find her in this world. She'd found herself a willing host easily, and Gunnar had found Meirys just as easily. He chose a host of his own from the many nearby by, but before he could make his presence known to the host, Meirys had fallen off her host's mediation platform.

Gunnar's concerns deepened then, as he watched Meirys and her latest host flounder as they tried to work together. He'd bounced through several hosts following as they fell, keeping his presence in the other minds light so he wouldn't be noticed. He'd meant to enlist his host's aid in capturing her, but now he was hesitating. He nearly laughed when Meirys stretched out her wings to gawk at them like . . . like . . . .

Gunnar hated that he kept coming back to the same comparison again but there was no other way to explain it. Meirys was behaving like a child. One experiencing her first jump into a body that still belonged to the original soul.

The immortal woman Gunnar had hunted for so long was no child. She didn't take time to gawk at new limbs. She didn't need time to acclimate, she was far too skilled for that. Nor did work with her host, she either killed the soul or pushed it out, like she'd done with Amalthea. On occasion, if the original soul was smart enough to stay small in quiet, she let it watch from the shadows.

But this time Meirys was talking to the other soul. He couldn't get close enough to hear what she said, but it was clear there was a conversation going on. At least until she crashed. Alarmed, because if she died he'd have to chase her to another life, and his own supply of Soul Stones was diminishing rapidly, he jumped hosts yet again. Apparently his luck had turned because there was a suitable man right there within feet of the branch where Meirys dangled.

A host who was busy laughing at Meiry's clumsiness. He didn't notice Gunnar slipping into the shadows of his mind. Or that it was Gunnar's impulse to move forward when the woman said waspishly, "You could help us down."

As his newest host attempted to flirt, Gunnar weighed the odds of extracting Meirys from her current body without damaging the host. That was the trouble with merging with a body that still had an inhabitant—the longer they were together, the more intertwined the two souls became. Even a short time was enough to cause pain, like trying to pull a barbed stinger out, if the immortal didn't withdraw. An experienced immortal could withdraw without damaging her host or leaving any stray bits behind, but that required the immortal to WANT to do it.

Gunnar had just concluded that there was no safe way to detached Meirys from her current body when she shoved him over the edge of the enormous branch they were standing on. Gunnar's host screamed shrilly, limbs flailing as they fell.

'What did you say to her?' Gunnar asked the host in annoyance. And the man jerked in surprise.

"A Traveler? You come to me NOW?" he yelped. "Help me!"

'What do you expect me to do?' asked Gunnar.

"Save me!" the man shouted back.

'And how would I do that?'

Above them, Meirys's host had taken control of their shared body and dove off the tree. She arrowed down towards them like a diving hawk, gaining on them swiftly, expression determined. She didn't so much catch Gunnar's host as crash into him, sending them both tumbling through the air. They crashed through leaves and small branches, bounced off several larger ones, and finally the woman got her wings out and was able to slow their fall.

"Sacred Goddess, Six, you ugly b*tch, what is WRONG with you?!" Gunnar's host demanded. Anger and pain flashed across the woman's features.

'Maybe don't antagonize her until we're on the ground?' Gunnar suggested.

'Shut up! You're useless!' Gunnar's host snarled back.

"I'm so sorry, Brother Forty Three," the woman was saying miserably. "My Traveler didn't know you couldn't fly—"

Brother Forty Three sneered as he interrupted, "Don't lie to me, Six. We both know no Traveler is going to visit an stupid, ugly creature like you. If this is some twisted way to get my attention—"

'You're an a$$hole,' Gunnar informed him. And then winced as Meirys head butted them both. He knew it was Meirys, and not the woman Brother Forty Three called 'Six', because there was a brief flash of horror on the woman's face after the impact. But then her expression turned glacial as she abruptly dropped Gunnar's host. The man screamed again, but the fall was only about ten feet before they landed on another platform.

Meirys/Six flitted forward until her face was inches from Brother Forty Three.

"Sister Forty Six is lovely and wise," she informed him icily, and Gunnar felt the man's shock as he realized that he hadn't been lied to. That there was someone else's spirit sharing Six's body. "YOU, on the other hand, are a whiny, self-centered festering boil on the putrescent hind end of the second most foul thing ever to crawl out of a cesspit and with roughly the intelligence of a rock. Do not speak to us again."

Gunnar silently applauded the insult as she whirled away, clearly intending to flounce off indignantly the way only a winged woman could. But Brother Forty Three decided to prove himself even stupider than the metaphorical rock, lunging forward to tackle the woman to the ground. There was a bit of confused thrashing, most of it the result of Meirys and her host working against each other. It ended with a snap of something fragile in one of the woman's wings.

All the anger and shame and fear that had been driving Brother Forty Three drained away with that snap and he recoiled in horror, babbling, "I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm sorry."

Meirys/Six's features filled with pain, and the woman sobbed softly, "You broke my wing."

The words were packed with far more than just physical pain, and even Brother Forty Three recognized it.

"I'm sorry, Six, I didn't mean it," he said, his hollow. Meirys/Six struggled to her feet, tucked in one wing, but the other trailed awkwardly behind her. She didn't look at Brother Forty Three as she stumbled past them. The man got to his feet and trailed after her. "Let me help you to the infirmary."

Meirys/Six ignored him, focused on putting one step in front of the other.

'Do something!' Brother Forty Three demanded.

'Like what?'

'I don't know! You're the all-powerful Traveler!'

'I'm not a healer,' Gunnar answered truthfully, and had to squash down his amusement as Brother Forty Three cursed him mentally.

'Why are you even here with me?' Brother Forty Three grumbled. 'I joined the order as a Warrior, not a Vessel. Why pick me?'

'You were convenient,' answered Gunnar.

"Convenient," Brother Forty Three said out loud, in disgust.

'Yes,' Gunnar agreed. And then, 'Stop staring at the poor woman's ass.'

"I am not staring—" Brother Forty Six began hotly, catching himself just in time and finishing mentally, 'at any part of that hag.'

Gunnar snorted in disbelief.

"Why me?" Brother Forty Three grumbled again.

'I can leave, if you want.' Gunnar said. And then mentally scolded himself as Meirys/Six gave them a suspicious glance over her shoulder. He needed to shut up before she realized Brother Forty Six had a 'Traveler' of his own and bolted.

No, he needed to suck it up and separate the two women now, while the damage to Six would be less severe. At the moment she'd survive mostly unscarred. Probably. But the longer this went on, the more danger there was to Six.

And yet, Gunnar was still troubled. And curious. Defending her host made sense. She was a vain woman. Obviously she'd chosen this host because she found the form appealing. And she would have taken the insult to Six's intelligence personally as well.

But why allow the other woman so much control?

What was Gunnar not seeing?

Even knowing it was the wrong thing to do, at least for Six, Gunnar decided to watch and wait. Meirys had made more than one attack on the foundations of Immortal society, beginning with the failed coup attempt that had gotten her declared a rogue so long ago. This strange behavior could be the start of something deadly.

Or the culmination of it.

Uneasily he found himself wondering, what if she WANTED to get caught?

What if, in capturing her and taking her to the Council, Gunnar put the last piece in place for a game so long no one had seen it building?