Agent Nightstar's face tightened into a grimace. "Pretty much."
Chapter
Two
Winter
Agent Nightstar's face hardened as she stared at the ferret-who-was-formerly-a-security-guard. She snapped her fingers and two of her colleagues rushed to capture the chattering creature.
"This confirms it," she wasn't looking at me but at my glowing palm. "Class 1 Prophecy Integration. The host is displaying uncontrolled reality manipulation."
"I'm notdisplayinganything," I protested. "It was an accident! And I'm right here, by the way. The 'host' has a name."
She finally looked at me, her elven features sharp and unimpressed. "Ms. Winter, you need to be transported to PEB Headquarters immediately for containment and decoding."
"Containment?" I sputtered. "I'm not dangerous!""
"You just turned Agent Brickwell into a ferret," her tone flat and with no give.
"Well, when you put it that way..."
Malko stepped forward. "Surely there's some protocol that doesn't involve taking my assistant."
"There is," Agent Nightstar cut him off. "And that protocol is immediate transport to our facility." She reached into her pocket and pulled out what looked like an official badge with strange symbols etched around its edges. "This is non-negotiable."
I crossed my arms. "I'm not a plugin like a USB! You can't just extract the prophecy from me, or I'm assuming Malko would have mentioned that option."
"She's correct," Malko confirmed. "Once a prophecy transfers to a living host, it becomes bound to their life force."
Agent Nightstar's mouth twitched in what might have been amusement, if she were capable of such an emotion. "I'm well aware of the metaphysical constraints. That's why we have specialized equipment at headquarters." She held the badge out toward me. "Touch it."
I hesitated. "What does it do?"
"It's a standard bureaucratic teleportation device. Perfectly safe." Her eyes narrowed. "Unless you'd prefer I place you in magical restraints and we take the long way?"
The ferret chattered angrily from inside a transport cage that one of the agents was holding.
I sighed and reached for the badge. "Fine, but I want it on record that I'm cooperating under protest."
"Noted," Agent Nightstar’s tone was even more dry than before.
My fingertips touched the cool metal surface of the badge. Instantly, the symbols around its edge flared with golden light, and the world around me collapsed inward like I was being sucked through a drinking straw. Colors blurred, sound compressed into a high-pitched whine, and my stomach lurched violently as reality bent around me.
Then I was flying, tumbling, disoriented into oblivion.
And suddenly, I was being forcefully expelled from the mouth of a stone lion statue, landing in an ungraceful heap on a polished marble floor.
"Ugh," I groaned, pushing myself up on my elbows. My knee throbbed angrily. "What the actual fuck monkeys?"
"First time through the Leonine Transport System?" A bored voice asked.
I looked up to see a goblin sitting behind a reception desk, her green skin contrasting sharply with a crisp white blouse. Her long fingers tapped idly at an ancient computer keyboard while her other hand extended toward me, holding a clipboard with a form attached.
"Sign in, please," she tapped the pen on the board. "The pen only bites if you lie."
I stood shakily, brushing dust off my cardigan. "The penbites?"
The goblin shrugged. "Standard procedure."
