Jessamine returned to her room in Spear's Tip Manor still coming down from a rush of adrenaline and dopamine, a high which started in the stratosphere and had only grown from that point. Now, at home and relaxing on her bed, the sensation of ecstatic release put any such previous experiences to shame. Her heartbeat was close to reaching its resting pace and her breathing, deep and slow, was now resuming subconscious normalcy.
I didn't know that I could still experience such pleasure.
Maybe Domino didn't fully replace my body with his magical artifices—maybe there's still a part of me which is human.
That would mean… when this is all over, there might still be a place for me in this world.
Wouldn't that be something?
A euphoric smile crept across Jessamine's face as she recalled the progress that the night had brought.
They think that Elisabeth Moriarty is the Domino Witch, and after the show I just put on, they'll be inclined to believe it.
People always enjoy an easy answer, and it's easier to assume that a monster like her is the Domino Witch rather than believe that I somehow became a different creature.
They don't know about Domino, so my transformation doesn't make sense.
Elisabeth, however…
Her family's reputation speaks for her, and the Union doesn't need any other proof.
They must be shocked right now—MI7 has thought that Richard Moriarty may be maneuvering the Union against Britannia, but now their ally has betrayed them.
What fun!
Or perhaps this will not be as much of a shock to them as I thought… the invasion of Dover, spurred on by the Moriarty clan, was foiled by the Domino Witch.
The Union lost a large part of their navy that day.
Ah, good times.
But if they were suspecting Elisabeth as the Domino Witch, maybe their relationship with the House of Moriarty has soured?
I was right to use her as my scapegoat—this will allow me to eliminate that wretched House entirely without fear of political repercussions.
That day cannot come quick enough.
Wait for me, Father, and watch me make you proud.
Feeling confident and self-satisfied, Jessamine propped herself up on her elbows and looked around her home-away-from-home. The room was luxurious, especially by university standards, but was relatively modest when viewed in context of Spear's Tip Manor. She had a four-poster bed, a full-length mirror, and a larger-than-average armoire, yes, but aside from the simple washroom that was the extent of her lodgings. Except for the balcony, of course—French doors which fit seamlessly with the floor-to-ceiling windows, before which sat a small mahogany writing desk, and which led to a small overlook with an ornate marble balustrade.
Her room was on an upper floor, so the balcony was flush with the rooms beneath and connected to all the rooms along this floor, though Jessamine was in a corner and thus her balcony was cut off on one side by an ornamental column and its perching grotesque.
Her phone, abandoned on the desk before she left for Rome, lured her gaze with the flashing notification of a missed call.
In fact, there were many such messages demanding her attention, but only one of significance:
"Jessie, dear, I'm coming to the Academy on Tuesday. We need to talk. Also, today's therapy session should be interesting, but don't let yourself be cornered. Love you."
Succinct as always, Mother and Commander.
Tuesday… the day of the Guy Fawkes celebration.
I still have a couple days to prepare; I wasn't expecting to have finished so soon.
Now that I have time, I no longer need to find a justification for missing Sunday therapy… unless I decide to skip.
Well, Mom will know if I skip, and she'll probably chastise me for not seeing the bigger picture.
Jessamine had no issue with therapy itself, having once spent many an hour grieving her father's passing with the assistance of a trusted counselor; it was her State-ordained "therapist" whom she found intolerable.
Nevertheless, skipping her weekly appointment at this critical moment would surely cause her even more headaches, so she collected her phone, refreshed her glamour, and made her way downstairs. She still had a couple hours of free time—it was only late morning, and the appointment was in the afternoon—and she thought it would be good to show her face at the Society.
While her instinct was trustworthy, her timing was unfortunate.
"Chairwoman!" cried one of her staff members, dropping the 'Vice-' out of regard for the amount of responsibility she carried despite her recent absence. "We've been looking for you. Come, come—there's breaking news from the Union. The whole Society's here."
Jessamine was ushered into the library where work on the upcoming festivities had been put on indefinite hiatus, all eyes glued to a large wall-mounted television at the end of the room. She had missed the headline, but she knew exactly what the broadcast was covering.
"…and there are already reports of Peoples' Empire magicians on the streets of Rome, interfering with the Vatican's attempts to erect a shield over the city," said the reporter. "We take you live to the Holy See, where the Pope is expected to make a statement shortly."
The camera feed cut to an empty podium emblazoned with S•P•Q•U and the familiar intertwined-laurels iconography of the Union. It appeared to be located somewhere in the Roman Forum, which was an apropos location given the current calamity in the Vatican. Shortly, an elderly man with salt-and-pepper hair and the beard to match, dressed in a classic Armani style, stepped up to the microphone and began his address.
This was the Pope. It was an honorary title, and he might more accurately be described as the President of the New Roman Union, but 'Pope' was traditional and commanded its own brand of loyalty and thus remained in use.
"My friends, my people," he began, "let me begin by saying how wonderful it is to see so many of you this afternoon. I have just come from Saint Peter's Square, and the grief of so many lost has threatened to consume me. Thank you, Rome, for restoring my hope and faith in our wonderful city, in our wonderful Union."
A panning shot during a pause in the Pope's remarks revealed a large crowd of mournful civilians, many of whom were applauding their leader.
A skilled politician if ever I've seen one, thought Jessamine.
"Last night, we encountered a foe we had not seen for many years," he continued. "She was thought a myth; you know her as the Domino Witch—"
He paused, allowing room for a gasp and concerned murmurings to ripple throughout those gathered at the Forum.
"—but we will forever know her as the Demon of Rome," he finished. "Rest assured, my family: she does not pose a threat to us at this time."
He looked directly at the camera and Jessamine felt a shiver run down her spine; it was as if he was speaking directly to her despite his ignorance of her true identity.
"The Demon thinks she is above us. She thinks she need not be concerned about how we will respond to this abhorrent violation of international law. She thinks she can blackmail us, holding our city hostage. But we are not powerless, my friends: we have a secret advantage in this fight."
A subtle tone of panic began to eat away at Jessamine's composure.
If he announces that Elisabeth Moriarty is the Domino Witch on live television, the game will be up.
A scapegoat is effective only as long as they remain unaware of their role—if Elisabeth realizes what I've done, she can begin denying the allegations.
With luck, she may be able to provide proof that she's not the Domino Witch…
…and she also would have reason to think that I am the Witch, because I've made my hatred for her abundantly clear.
If she were able to prove her innocence, and find enough substantive evidence to accuse me of framing her—my plan would go to waste.
Jessamine could see the resolution in his eyes and knew with only a sliver of doubt that he planned to reveal "her" identity, likely in order to unite the world against the Moriarty family.
I have no choice.
With a single thought, the invisible world of magic revealed itself to her All-Seeing Eye, time dilated around her perception, and she projected her sight to Rome.
She was greeted by the sight of the Pope's magical brain, a conglomeration of tethers emitting only the faintest false-light glow—he wasn't a magician, which didn't surprise her, but it did confirm her belief that what she perceived as a "glow" was in fact the aura of a magician.
Her options, though, were limited.
She had uncovered a treasure trove of information about the magic of the brain last night, but she was by no means a neuroscientist and could barely wrap her mind around what it was she learned.
Manipulating a corpse had been easy because she didn't run the risk of breaking anything that hadn't already been broken, and also because the nerves controlling physical activity were simple compared to the workings of the brain itself. She had used a childhood memory of an electrified frog as a reference, and her supernatural synchronicity had executed her vision as she understood it—but she didn't understand the human brain.
Jessamine was tempted to unplug a bundle of his brain-tethers, which was a quick and dirty solution which would stop him from bringing her deception to light.
It would also strike fear into the Union, who would know that the Domino Witch was watching them…
But I can't go around killing world leaders impulsively.
There are many massive political consequences to consider. It's an act of war, and the Domino Witch declaring war on a nation would only result in short-term victories.
But—wait—I've already attacked them.
I destroyed their nullification zone, and now they're under attack from the Peoples' Empire. I'm surprised Britannia hasn't yet made a move; maybe we have.
Why did I do that?
I was so focused on the spectacle, on making an impression, on framing Elisabeth…
No, that's not right.
The ultimate truth is that Domino told me to "fall."
Was my interpretation wrong?
Or is this what it wanted?
…can I truly trust Domino?
Jessamine shook her head in an attempt to refocus her mind.
I can worry about that later.
I can't let the Pope ruin everything I achieved last night.
She smiled, for she realized exactly how she could manipulate him without risk of damaging his mind. She had learned many things about the magic of the mind, and though she knew not how to understand most of it, there was one commonality across every test subject: fear. Even the commander, while vacillating between titillation, guilt, disgust, horror, awe, and anger, was all the while being pulled underwater by a riptide of fear.
Now, looking at the Pope's mind, she saw many things that she didn't understand—but amidst the mysteries, she recognized the unmistakable pattern of fear.
That was something she could manipulate.
Jessamine relied on her artificially-synchronous brain to put her thoughts into effect, pulling and prodding different elements of the Pope's fear until she reached an acceptable result. It was difficult to know whether or not she was successful until he spoke, but her concern had waned dramatically.
No matter what he says, it'll be strongly diluted by fear.
Still, though, I should stick around to make adjustments as necessary.
She allowed her perception of time to return to that of a normal human—no matter how inapplicable that label had become—but maintained her Farsight and All-Seeing Eye, just in case things didn't go her way.
"My people, we…" the Pope began, but seemed to lose his train of thought as he left the sentence unresolved.
He soon composed himself, but Jessamine knew that her manipulation had taken root: she had overcome this obstacle.
"As I was saying, do not fear the Demon. If you allow yourselves to dwell on the danger… well, it's unproductive. It's not good for me—for you—for us, as a nation, to focus on unknown possibilities," he said, beginning to regain his lost momentum. "Instead, we should look to the future! Yes, look to the future, my countrymen, my family. It is a good future for Rome, and it is a prosperous future for our Union."
Nice recovery, thought Jessamine, though it lacks zeal.
"And I say this with confidence!" proclaimed the Pope, "because even now, yes, now! Our forces are preparing to hunt this demon down and extract from her the cost of every Roman life she took!"
He slammed his fist on the podium to emphasize his resolve, and the audience ate it up. Their eager applause evolved into cries of joyous vengeance, but Jessamine paid them no mind: for at that moment, she had detected a familiar aura approaching the Society. Her body was still in Spear's Tip, after all, viewing the scene at the Forum remotely while her fellow Society members could only watch the broadcasted version.
Cancelling Farsight, Jessamine's mind returned home and experienced the strangest sense of deja vu:
"…every Roman life she took!" blared the television, and a few muffled heckles were thrown at the unresponsive screen.
Oh, there's a delay, she realized.
"Have a nice trip?" a voice whispered into Jessamine's ear. "Look at that—you leave the Society for a moment and already we're on the verge of a world war. What ever would we do without you?"
"The world would probably fall into chaos, until a power crime family or something similar stepped up and took control," Jessamine retorted, unbothered by Elisabeth's sudden appearance. "What are you doing here? Run out of minions to eviscerate?"
"That too," Elisabeth replied, stepping back and placing a commanding arm around the older woman's shoulders. "But, really, I've been thinking…"
"God help us."
The arm around Jessamine tightened imperceptibly.
"…since you're so adamant about placing me under constant surveillance, it would really make more sense if I were a member of the Royal Society. I'm sure I wouldn't be able to get into any trouble then, though I can't say the same about a certain friend of mine. She has a habit of… how shall we say… stirring things up."
Jessamine scoffed.
"You think this was me?" she said, allowing her voice to ring with incredulity. "As if I could make it to Rome in only a few hours. That's about as believable as your chances of getting into the Society, little girl."
Elisabeth released her grasp and moved a couple steps in front of Jessamine, stretching her arms and clasping her hands behind her in a manner designed to maximize the appearance of youthful naivete.
"Oh, you didn't know? Henry—sweet thing—invited me into your little club last night."
For the first time in four years, Jessamine was taken aback and couldn't find words to articulate her feelings.
Henry—he's loyal to the Crown, he wouldn't do that without a good reason…
And he, of all people, understands my hatred of that family.
Why?!
Elisabeth appeared to be relishing the moment, as she turned to face Jessamine with an expression of pure delight masked by phony pity.
"That's right, I forgot," she continued. "Of course you didn't know; Henry looked for you last night to get your opinion, but he couldn't find you. We asked around and nobody had seen you leave… yet, here you are! Pray tell, how did you leave the manor without anyone seeing you?"
She bit her lip and teased Jessamine with her eyebrows—
"Did you climb down from your balcony, perhaps? Did you have a midnight rendezvous with a secret lover? I won't tell Henry or anyone else at the Society… as long as you tell me all the juicy details."
"Why?" Jessamine snapped, finally coming to her senses. "So you can use him to torture me, blackmail me, control me?"
"No! You masochist, you," said Elisabeth, with a sly hint of sadistic pleasure. "I simply don't believe that you've ever loved anyone in that way, and I won't be convinced unless you tell me everything."
She knows that I don't have a lover, thought Jessamine, and she knows I wasn't in my room last night.
Stopping the Pope may have been a moot result; Elisabeth is close to being convinced that I am the Domino Witch anyway.
But at least she doesn't know that I framed her…
Jessamine hadn't yet dispelled her All-Seeing Eye, and for a moment, the invitation to repeat her experiments on another living subject appeared the most enticing thing in the world.
It would be so easy.
I wouldn't have to deal with her anymore.