obviously – he clearly worked for the warden as a guard – but the Illuminati had others who were specialists in keeping things quiet. James worked with some of them.
Briefly James pondered the witch’s name. It sounded made up. And wasn't there a warship called the Luscior or something like it? That might be something that needed following up. Though not by him. As a hunter his job was done.
“Why do you always bring them to us at such short notice?” Yasmin unexpectedly appeared from behind the van and immediately accused him of making her life difficult. Yasmin had accused him of the same crime before. Many times before. And he supposed she had a point this time. From the moment the witch had taken the girl, his time frames had become very compressed. “We had to go rushing back into the office and then drive like demons to get here in time.”
“It's just the way it went down.” James tried to concentrate on the accusation instead of the shapely figure she cut in in her knee length dress. The woman might be a pain in the arse who took pleasure in making his life difficult but she was still a living pin up. And when she occasionally let her hair down instead of twirled up into that elegant bun she normally wore, she took his breath away. Of course she also made it clear that she thought he was a savage who should never have been given the role of hunter.
Yasmin – actually she pronounced it Jasmine but spelled it with a “Y”, he assumed her parents thought it fancier – was in charge of prisoner restraint and transportation for their little group and he supposed he should have expected to see her there. Everyone in their little unit had their own gift and their own duty. That was hers.
She had what the Illuminati called meta magic, which was just a clever way of saying that she could take whatever magic was used against her and transform it into her own magic which she could throw back at her enemies. It was a useful skill he supposed for dealing with rogues and others with magic. In fact if it came to a battle she was probably the one best suited to it. But she looked like anything but a warrior unless she was fighting fashion crimes.
All in all she was an extremely competent officer – not that any of them were actually officers. It was just that he always found her difficult to deal with. Mostly perhaps because of the way she dressed. And the way she looked. Yasmin had the looks of a model, and she always overdressed as though she was ready for the runway. He was a cop when all was said and done. He had always been a cop. And there was a way that cops looked and acted. She just wasn't that.
To add to that she was always critical of him because he didn't live up to her standards of what a hunter should be. It was hard to square that away with her work, and the fact that he was sort of her boss. It didn't help that she was six feet tall and in her heels which she insisted on wearing everywhere, towered over him. Of course the stilettos weren't a lot of use on grass, and with every step she was sinking in to it which might be another reason she was looking unhappy.
“It's always the way it goes down! And another broken nose? I mean what is that, the third this year? Do you get some sort of bonus for breaking noses? Or is it just a caveman thing?” She added the last with a despairing sigh.
“It's just a quick way of rendering people harmless.” James hated the caveman crack – but it wasn't the first time she'd called him one and he doubted it would be the last. She found his methods violent.
“And giving us endless reports to fill out!” Yasmin didn't seem impressed. “You know you could just shoot a few of them! It would make things much easier. And you have a gun for a reason.”
“I've told you before. When you guys saved Matti you got my services as promised. But I'm a cop not an executioner.” Even if he wasn't a cop any longer it was
Briefly James pondered the witch’s name. It sounded made up. And wasn't there a warship called the Luscior or something like it? That might be something that needed following up. Though not by him. As a hunter his job was done.
“Why do you always bring them to us at such short notice?” Yasmin unexpectedly appeared from behind the van and immediately accused him of making her life difficult. Yasmin had accused him of the same crime before. Many times before. And he supposed she had a point this time. From the moment the witch had taken the girl, his time frames had become very compressed. “We had to go rushing back into the office and then drive like demons to get here in time.”
“It's just the way it went down.” James tried to concentrate on the accusation instead of the shapely figure she cut in in her knee length dress. The woman might be a pain in the arse who took pleasure in making his life difficult but she was still a living pin up. And when she occasionally let her hair down instead of twirled up into that elegant bun she normally wore, she took his breath away. Of course she also made it clear that she thought he was a savage who should never have been given the role of hunter.
Yasmin – actually she pronounced it Jasmine but spelled it with a “Y”, he assumed her parents thought it fancier – was in charge of prisoner restraint and transportation for their little group and he supposed he should have expected to see her there. Everyone in their little unit had their own gift and their own duty. That was hers.
She had what the Illuminati called meta magic, which was just a clever way of saying that she could take whatever magic was used against her and transform it into her own magic which she could throw back at her enemies. It was a useful skill he supposed for dealing with rogues and others with magic. In fact if it came to a battle she was probably the one best suited to it. But she looked like anything but a warrior unless she was fighting fashion crimes.
All in all she was an extremely competent officer – not that any of them were actually officers. It was just that he always found her difficult to deal with. Mostly perhaps because of the way she dressed. And the way she looked. Yasmin had the looks of a model, and she always overdressed as though she was ready for the runway. He was a cop when all was said and done. He had always been a cop. And there was a way that cops looked and acted. She just wasn't that.
To add to that she was always critical of him because he didn't live up to her standards of what a hunter should be. It was hard to square that away with her work, and the fact that he was sort of her boss. It didn't help that she was six feet tall and in her heels which she insisted on wearing everywhere, towered over him. Of course the stilettos weren't a lot of use on grass, and with every step she was sinking in to it which might be another reason she was looking unhappy.
“It's always the way it goes down! And another broken nose? I mean what is that, the third this year? Do you get some sort of bonus for breaking noses? Or is it just a caveman thing?” She added the last with a despairing sigh.
“It's just a quick way of rendering people harmless.” James hated the caveman crack – but it wasn't the first time she'd called him one and he doubted it would be the last. She found his methods violent.
“And giving us endless reports to fill out!” Yasmin didn't seem impressed. “You know you could just shoot a few of them! It would make things much easier. And you have a gun for a reason.”
“I've told you before. When you guys saved Matti you got my services as promised. But I'm a cop not an executioner.” Even if he wasn't a cop any longer it was
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