(Editors warning/apology switching from journal mode to narrative mode)
“Can you give me some clue on what we’re supposed to be doing? Because there’s no way in Hell we’re going to be getting in there unless you can turn invisible. Can you turn invisible?” Sanaa shakes her head, still looking worriedly at the complex “So what are we trying to accomplish? You’ve been vague about this mission.”
Sanaa bites one of her blunt nails as she stares down the road “I don’t know, not exactly.”
Grace raises an eyebrow “You don’t know what we’re supposed to do?”
“I just know . . .” she shakes her head angrily “That’s not how it works.” She whirls on Grace with sudden and inexplicable vitriol. “I don’t confront magic as an enemy like your kind! I don’t try and bend it to my whim, to enslave it! I accept my spirit mentor’s mysteries as gifts to be cherished. I don’t try to rip away the layers away like the skin from an onion, I gather them together as the tree gathers the breeze.”
Grace scowls “What the fuck are you talking about? Why are you pissed at me? What did I do?”
Sanaa shakes her head and turns away “I just . . . I’m not used to . . . never mind.”
“Okay, fine, whatever. So your spirit guide . . .”
“Mentor spirit” Sanaa interrupts firmly.
“Whatever, your spirit thing . . .”
Sanaa frowns “Not whatever the concept of a spirit guides was created by patriarchal ideologues to disempower and disrespect the spirits themselves and the people, women mostly, who interact with them.”
Grace seems like she’s going to blow her stack for a moment but calms herself with a long steady breath “I’m sorry that I said the wrong thing, I’m not familiar with your beliefs, please be assured that I mean no insult. However, this may not be the best time to have this discussion, can I ask that for the moment we focus on the task in front of us? You said that your mentor spirit told you Eterno was here and we needed to stop something bad. Did it say anything else?”
Sanaa looks at Grace for a long moment before speaking “Are you making fun of me?”
Grace meets her eyes steadily “No, I am not.”
Sanaa doesn’t look entirely convinced but continues anyway “It doesn’t work like that, we don’t talk with words, it’s more like communion. Just give me time to get the lay of the land, I’ll know more in a minute, I just need to concentrate.”
“Can I help? I’ve found that cooperative magic is . . .”
Sanaa snatches her hand away like Grace was reaching for her even though she didn’t move a muscle “No! You can’t help me with what you do!” Grace backs away with her hands up with a quizzical expression “Sorry . . . sorry, that’s not . . . directed at you. I’ve had . . . bad experiences . . . with . . .”
Sanaa trails off without finishing her sentence and then crouches down and digs her fingers into the gritty soil. She’s still for a long moment and just when Grace is about to say something she stands up, and then to Grace’s mild consternation licks some of the grit off her fingers before dusting them off.
“All the fear and anger being stirred up by the power outage is making it easier for certain kinds of spiritual entities to sneak across the boundary between worlds. People are so dependent on technology that they go nuts if they can’t check their phone for a couple hours.”
“I don’t think that’s fair to say in this situation, the power has been out for four days, food supplies are starting to be a problem, unless you have a lot of canned food stored in your house I think it’s reasonable to. . .”
Sanaa makes a motion as if sweeping away Grace’s concerns with her hand “There’s no time to debate, the boundary is weakening for those spirits that thrive on pain. The man you’re looking for is at the center of it, he’s pulling them across. I can see his corrupt seed spilling across this land.”
“Okay, so that’s what we need to stop? Maybe if I . . .”
Sanaa shakes her head “No, that’s not the problem. That’s just the precursor. They’re going to conduct a powerful anchoring ritual, they’re trying to bring their master across, wings . . . dark in the night.”
“O-kay, well, it still sounds like we need to go down there, which is . . .”
Sanaa shakes her head again “No, for something this powerful and complex they would have had to conduct many other ceremonies, create a path for their central location, we need to find those other anchors, maybe they won’t be as heavily guarded.”
“And your mentor spirit can lead the way?”
“No, but if I can get my hands on one of them I’ll know where we need to go.”
Grace sighs “Would it be insensitive for me to comment that your mentor spirit is annoyingly unforthcoming with critical information? Alright, so I just need to sneak down there and grab one of these guys, choke him out and drag him back up here? No problem. Do you . . .”
Grace trails off as headlights come up the road behind them.
I’m curious — what precipitates the switch between journal and narrative mode?
Sounds pretentious to say but I try to keep the fake Grace author voice consistent. I switch over when I want to tell a more serialized part of the story that she would mostly gloss over in character.
I don’t think that sounds pretentious. (Does that just mean I’m pretentious?) Kind of like the Watson POV for the Sherlock stories. If Sherlock was the writer, he’d gloss over the entire mystery for being so dull and obvious.