pursuit

The rozzer tries the door as he walks past. Two minutes until he reaches the end of the block, two minutes that seem to last forever. As soon as he’s around the corner, I’m moving. The key works perfectly and I’m in, I lock the door behind me and crawl behind a desk. Another eternity and I hear the door rattle again. I count to twenty and head for the safe. And stop dead.

The watch in my pocket is buzzing like a wind-up toy. There’s strong magic here. I turn my head and squint, seeing what I fear, the faint wavering that means the safe is warded. At the least, someone will know when they’re disturbed; at the worst, they might trap me here or paralyze me for hours.

I ride on my fleet-footed grey,
My sword hangit doun by my knee,
My name is little Jock Elliot,
And wha daur meddle wi me?

I've vanquished the Queen's Lieutenant,
And garr'd her troopers flee;
My name is little Jock Elliot,
And wha daur meddle wi me?
- Little Jock Elliot, Trad.

I'd screwed up.  I repeated this to myself for about the thousandth time or so as I pushed Daisy forward through the snow.  Running down fleeing Scarlets like they was rabbits had felt, well, not good exactly; but it had made me feel a little less miserable.  Problem was, my bloodlust had gotten the better of my judgement and now I was paying for it.  One of my targets had gotten away and somehow found a Scarlet patrol, least I guessed that was what had happened.