Bellatrix Morgan
The past twenty-four hours had been decidedly slower in pace than her first meeting with Jason, but no less exciting. After they'd slain an age-old gorgon in the middle of New York City, the Venari had made Bellatrix an offer that caught her off-guard: did she want to accompany him on his next hunt?
She had fallen silent for a moment as she weighed up the proposition. It would certainly be a more comfortable existence than she had been used to as of late, but at what price? It was a dangerous line of work - ridiculously so - and it didn't seem that Jason was reaping too many rewards. In retrospect, Bellatrix reasoned that her decision was perhaps informed by the adrenaline that had still been flowing through her veins, or by the luxurious warmth that remained on her skin following her shower. Regardless of her reasoning, one thing was clear: she had said 'yes'.
They'd taken more time to recuperate from the battle, and Bellatrix had tended to Jason's ribs with a healthy amount of Arnica. There was little to be done for the man's broken ribs, but the cream would at least alleviate his bruising. Jason had volunteered to make the arrangements for their next trip, and whilst he went through the motions Bellatrix had decided to take a walk through the city. It had felt good to move at her own pace for a couple of hours, as she knew that travelling with Jason would likely strip her of this luxury.
Jason had acquired a rucksack for her; small, pouch-like, and in black leather, it was big enough for the few possessions Bella owned; the most notable of which was, of course, the Persite Relic. Looking back, she suspected that her possession of this object in particular was what caused the events that proceeded to unfold.
She'd been sat by the bay, looking out over water and watching the reflection of Lady Liberty dance in the tide. The sun on her face, the sea-breeze caressing her ebony locks. It was a moment of splendour that had been a long-time coming for the witch. But of course, nothing good lasts forever...
"The Relic is close," came a man's voice from several meters behind her, only just audible over the buzz of the city and the gentle lapping of waves against the shore. "According to the amulet, it ought to be right under our noses."
Trying to be as discreet as possible, Bellatrix looked over her shoulder and tried to get a glimpse of the speaker. He was easy to spot, stood in a group of five or six other men; a definite family resemblance betraying their shared blood, and matching leather armour further proving their unity. Another man spoke up, far less eloquent and authoritative than his brethren, whom Bella suspected was the leader.
"Kalum," he said, addressing the leader. "Can't you ramp up the accuracy on that thing? We'll never find the rock at this rate."
As he spoke Bellatrix made every effort to raise to her feet and slip away without being seen.
"Shut up, Mikael. Just keep an eye out for any suspicious..." As Kalum spoke, he locked eyes with Bella, whose panicked eyes gave her away instantly to the observant man. "Well, well," he chuckled, as Bellatrix had broke into a sprint. "Brothers! Don't let her get away!"
---
Bellatrix had been lucky, managing to elude her pursuers by integrating with the bustling city crowds. Her knowledge of magical artefacts informed her assumption that whatever they were using to trace her was somewhat primitive, and so her best bet was to hide in plain sight. After returning to the hotel, ensuring she had truly lost them, she recounted the events to Jason, who insisted they move before being found. He'd already gotten hold of two tickets for a jet bound for England, and now here they were: sat in a cafe at the airport, sipping on bad coffee as they waited for their gate to be called. The plane was on-time, and they were due to board in about twenty minutes.
"This coffee sucks," Bellatrix said with disdain as she looked down at her black beverage; of course, she'd been so paranoid since her confrontation with the mysterious men that her gaze only wavered for a second, before she was anxiously scanning the area for any sign of them. Jason looked bemused as he watched her fret, and she scowled at him.
"It's not funny, Jason," she spat, taking another reluctant sip of the Americano. "Those guys meant business. They were not playing. Who know who they were, or what they would have d--" Bellatrix' eyes widened as she broke mid-sentence, spotting a group of black-clad men enter the departure lounge.
"Fuck, Jason," she said, urgently but keeping her voice to a whisper. "That's them."
