Written to
inventrix's promptMike hadn't done many of these new student pick-ups - Luke didn't quite trust him to be adult about it, and he didn't have the travelling resources that, say, Laurel did - but Tzivyah's extended, adoptive family were friends of his from his wild days in the seventies and eighties, and the girl herself was a strange case. There hadn't been a peep on Shira's radar, to the point where they'd thought that she wouldn't Change at all without serious prodding, not a whisper from either of the sensitives they employed in the Village, and then all three of them, at once, had come to Regine's office. Yesterday. Pounding on the door. Insisting that
right now, right now someone had to go get Tzivyah.
When your clairvoyant, your clairsensitive and your precognitive agree that urgently, someone goes, right then.
Mike had enlisted the help of a teleporter to drop him outside of town. It was a risk – everyone was very touchy about fae right now, and teleportation was very obviously fae – but Shira had been breathing down his neck so badly he’d thought she might end up getting carried along in the teleport.
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