Toebeans tapping the top of the desk thoughtfully, Cuan considered the screen in front of her. Using Esfir’s computer was never a problem when everyone was out of the apartment. Honestly, even if Esfir’s mother came home from work early, it would still be ridiculously easy to close her own searches and make it look as if the girl had simply forgotten to turn the machine off before heading out to school.

Small mercies, she thought as she stared through the images on the screen. To one side of the keyboard lay the notes that she’d scratched out to herself. Names that she had gotten from Esfir once they’d come back from Saiph and the girl had calmed down somewhat. Cuan glanced at her scratches and let out a very tiny growl. What to do, oh, what to do? The kitten considered herself to be a reasonable person. She hated causing undue distress. But she was seeing a pattern in her senshi that could lead to problems further down the road. Yes, she’d powered up and gone to her homeworld. Yes, she’d promised to do so again, but. But.

She was making excuses again to avoid powering up. It was clear that she was uneasy with the visions she’d been given. And whatever had happened that Halloween when she’d gotten lost was another stick in the spoke.

I told that overbearing puffball that Esfir had been too young to awaken, she thought moodily. But I let her do it anyway because I was outranked.

Well, now they were both paying for it. Cuan could have shrugged it off had it just been her alone. But this was affecting her senshi. And however formidable the promise of her power might be, that promise would die on the vine if they couldn’t figure out what was going on. Yes, Chariklo had promised to help with training. And that was a good thing. But it didn’t help with whatever was going on with Saiph’s soul.

Sighing, the lykoi jumped from the desk to pace the floor of the small bedroom. She just had to go through this logically. She knew that senshi and knights could experience visions of who they had once been while on their ancient homes. She’d gathered that these visions were of very, very olden times. Saiph was experiencing something far more recent. She’d described Destiny City Park after the first vision. And not just the Park but a specific section of it. Her second vision had been a slice of suburbia. Nothing ancient. And all very earth centered.

To Cuan’s way of thinking, that meant that Saiph’s starseed had gone through a rather more recent trip through the Cauldron than her peers. From the very little she knew, this should have been impossible. Other senshi and knights had passed in the current day, but they weren’t being reborn so quickly. Were they? Surely not! No, somehow, Saiph’s starseed had managed to get a reincarnation speedrun.

Or, that was the kitten’s working theory.

But she wouldn’t have actual confirmation unless she followed up on the names that Esfir had given her. Glancing back up at the desk, Cuan swallowed hard and shook herself. She took a moment to compose and calm her ruffled soul. Then, she jumped back up and sat before the computer monitor once more, memorizing the number and name on the screen. Then, she cleared her searches and shut everything off. She’d make her call from Chariklo’s home.

By the time she’d gotten to her bird’s home and wriggled inside, Cuan was tired and cranky. It had taken longer than she’d liked to find the landline phone and bat it from its cradle. Pawing at the keypad, she dialed the number she’d committed to memory and waited as the phone rang. When it picked up, a female voice, sounding impossibly old and tired, answered with a curt, “Yes?”

“Good afternoon, Ms. Ivanovitch,” Cuan answered, voice gentle. She was possibly about to shock an old woman and not looking forward to it. “I’m so sorry to take up your time, but I believe that we need to talk.”

Before she could get further, the old woman snorted into the phone and grated, “Why? I do not know who you are and I do not talk to solicitors. Good day!”

Before she could be hung up on, Cuan threw caution to the wind. She’d wanted to hold this name in reserve because using it felt predatory and like a cheapshot. Still… “It’s about Gabrielle! We need to talk about Gabrielle,” she said quickly. Then, in a more measured voice, “Ms. Ivanovitch, please. This is important. I need to talk to you about your niece.”

Somehow, miraculously, the old woman didn’t hang up. Instead, she hung there, silently before saying slowly, with crushing grief in her voice, “Gabrielle is gone. Why?”

Letting out her breath, Cuan closed her eyes. She wondered if the old woman suspected something unusual. After all, according to Esfir, the former Saiph had told this woman everything. This old woman had been trusted with everything that had been known at that point in the war.

“I know and I am so sorry,” she answered. “We need to talk about Sailor Saiph.”

The gasp was answer enough that some of her theories had merit.

“Will you please meet with me,” she pressed on. “It’s very important.”

She must’ve lit a long dormant spark in the old woman because her voice was like living steel when Natasha Ivanovtich answered with, “Come to my home. We will talk. And once I am sure that you mean no harm, I will answer your questions.”

Cuan took the address that was rattled off and committed it to memory. Then, before she could thank the old woman or make any kind of sensible response, the call was disconnected swiftly. Decisively. Cuan listened to the dial tone in silence for a moment before maneuvering the phone back into its cradle.
“Well,” she murmured to herself. “That went better than I had any reason to expect. Well!”

Word Count = 1015