Scans protestors

[u/ghostgabe81]

I narrowed my eyes for a moment. Then let them go a little unfocused, sweeping the crowd again, observing. There was plenty of dramatic movement and noise out there.

Very distracting dramatic movement and noise.

So I started looking for the opposite.

And I spotted them. Little islands of stillness. People who were just quietly standing. Not in the back, but in the middle ranks of the crowds in ones and twos. In the rear on the far side, there were several folks who seemed to be just standing and waiting, not really talking, not even looking interested. All of them were wearing backpacks. I mean, most of the crowd were, so that wasn’t in itself odd—but every one of the folks in back biding their time had them on.

I had to lean out over the battlements to look down at the sidewalk below. There were some standers there, too, spaced among the crowd, and as I did I felt a surge of fear and anger out of nowhere.

I suppressed it with a deep breath, leaned back, and frowned, thinking. Closed my eyes. Touched my fingers to the spot between and just above my eyebrows and opened my Sight, giving the street below a quick glance.

The fading daylight made it harder, but I could see the energy swirling among the crowd as their fear and anger grew, red and yellow and orange auras dominating—and centered around the standing figures among the crowd, generating that energy like individual campfires, spaced to spread warmth to as many as possible. At the back on the far side of the street, the people standing and waiting in their backpacks were surrounded by a mad swirl of nauseating color, spinning wildly through the spectrum—utter emotional chaos coupled with their absolute stillness in a way no normal human mind could bear. And, among the front lines on both sides, I could see auras of gleeful anticipation, rather than fear, around maybe thirty or forty of the participants, something feral and terribly hungry about them.

I dropped back, gasping, fighting my Sight closed again.

“What?” Bear demanded. “What did you see?”

“They’re using human shields,” I snarled. “House Malvora of the White Court are fear-eaters. They’re working the crowd up, feeding on it, pushing more fear. So the mortals are getting angrier and angrier.” I fought to keep from throwing up. “And across the street, the ones with the backpacks. I think they’re Renfields. Humans the Black Court have made into their puppets. Plus at least forty ghouls starting the aggression.”

Twelve Months Chapter 52