My peregrine lass has me well in hand, so to speak, and has been making sure I am updated. Yes, my body is mostly unresponsive, but she has been linked to me, and letting me know what has been going on around us. The sheriff was a capable man, even without his lycan abilities, and as for the djinni and the clone – well, that was something for Sister to work out. It was a staff disciplinary problem at its core, she just had to sift through the emotional minefield to get there.
The tumbling dice in Steelhead have been cast; there is naught I can do to help until I finish the job here. Removal of the last of the controls imposed on Gem by others – both the vampire and the Elder – proceeded at an agonizingly slow pace, but caution is dictated. They have caused her some long-term damage; all of us have, to some extent, whether we intended such or no.
I was focused on her sense of philios, warped as it was into a gear that turned only on Aleister’s whim. She had managed some work on it herself when come of the gears locked into it had been freed; now I hoped I could finish before she encountered others beyond her father.
The aura coming into range made me fear we were out of time; Gem’s hunger suppressed some of her logic subroutines, the cams jammed by her need to feed. The warning cry to my niece may or may not have reached her, but something made Gematria pause. I blessed who so ever chose to listen that Ama inherited several disarming senses of humor.
More time lost during the battle, as I could do nothing to assist, other than the occasional warning of danger from an unexpected quarter, I listened to my mate explain what had recently transpired in town… and I fed back my observations of the battle to her. Her hunting instincts rose, and the rush of controlled battle-rage fed the gestalt, to the point of feeding Gem, though her key was winding down… interesting, I would have to see what that meant when we got everyone home - it could mean we had a way to feed her if she remained a Blood Doll.