A City On Alert

Ed could quite confidently say that today had been the worst day of his life. His entire world had been turned upside down, shaken about and thrown down the stairs, and his day wasn't even over yet.

Ordinarily, he'd be in a complete state of disarray, incapable of stringing even a small coherent thought together. But something had changed in him. Before at the house, he fell into shock so easily and he lamented his lack of action at the time, he might even have been able to avoid the mess he was in if he'd had his wits about him. Now, however, there was no shock, no tremors, no paralytic lock up running through his legs. He felt calm and composed.

Ed was always good with focus, it was a strength of his, but for some reason, he felt like that focus had been given a healthy dose of steroids.

It was like tunnel vision. Having tunnel vision was never a full proof fix though, anyone, everyone, would have lingering doubts in the back of their mind. If they tried to claim otherwise, they were either delusional or liars as far as Ed was concerned.

But as of right now, Ed was rethinking his opinion on the matter. He was neither delusional or lying to himself. It was as if the moment this magic manifested within him, the mana it came with now not only affected his muscles but his mind too.

His senses were clearer, heightened even, his thoughts were less hazy and appeared when he wanted them too, instead of being intrusive.

Quite frankly, even though this power came from a place of evil, Ed had to admit, he was enjoying it.

It scared him slightly that he was thinking like that, but almost as soon as those thoughts appeared, the doubt slowly drifted away as he was figuring out what he was going to do.

He had to clear his name and help find the Slayer too, but how would he go about it?

He couldn't stay at home for long, it would be the first place they'd think to look, surely.

the house didn't help his case either. Suffice to say, he hadn't kept it particularly clean over the years. Mountains of books piled up in every place accept where they were supposed to be, the bookshelf, which incidentally were currently home to empty dishes, trinkets and unfolded clothes waiting to be put away.

The vacant spaces were filled with dust, making the curtains look a century old and they looked like they hadn't been opened in just as long. It smelt like an unused library. Scents of stale dust, old fabric and that unique smell long untouched books had when they were pressed together.

The whole house made him look like a recluse. And in part, that was true.

He didn't have many friends either and the ones he did have, he didn't trust any of them not to turn him in once the police or papers announced his name. He wouldn't blame them, Ed wouldn't want to put that pressure on them and expect them to incriminate themselves for him anyway, they have their own lives to live.

There was only one person he could think of in this situation that would actually help him, no matter what. Freya, of course.

But she'd be leaving for Denmark soon, worse yet, she was in the military, from a well respected family, he couldn't ask any favours of her, it was too dangerous for them both.

He'd have to go it alone.

Ed thought the fear of losing Freya was enough, but it looked as though he'd be looking over his shoulder, with no one he could trust, until his name had been cleared.

Of course, Ed had hope. He understood how it looked when the police turned up, some of the idiots were even eager to fire just because they were scared.

But the inspector who was there seemed different. Unlike the rest of them, he didn't panic, he wasn't quick to assume and he even wanted to hear Ed out. Work ethic like that is what sets apart a man like that from those in a lower position than himself, Ed was surprised at the time, but now he realised that the reason he was an inspector was because he had those traits.

A little part of Ed hoped that either the inspector, or someone else in the police would figure something out, that they would prove that it wasn't Ed who'd committed murder, but he knew it would take time, he was just concerned how long.

Ed would have to do what he could until then.

Scouring the house for supplies, Ed came across a couple of books he thought might be useful. They should have been on the third row, on the right side, next to the books on magic theory. But on a whim a few weeks ago, Ed decided to research something Freya had told him about transcribing magical phenomena and left them on his grandfather's old desk amongst his old office equipment.

It was possible there was something in there that could help him figure out what the strange inscriptions on his hands and the orb were, or at least give him a lead.

They'd be inconvenient, difficult to travel fast with, but the pros outweighed the cons. He packed them in his satchel, making sure not to damage or disturb the file he had for the Bjornsson company.

Why he still had it, he had no clue, habit, maybe. He could leave it, dump it somewhere, it probably wouldn't matter in the larger scheme of things. But Ed felt he needed to keep hold of it. If it was important and someone else came across it, then he didn't want to make an enemy out of a company as big as Bjornsson, as well as the state. Plus, it would undoubtedly come in useful in explaining why he was at the house.

Of course, Owen was supposed to be the one who delivered it, which worried Ed for two reasons. First, he worried that Owen had something to do with the set up, which considering everything that's happened, the fact it was Ed's name on the wall and not Owens, wouldn't be surprising. Second, was the fact that unless there was a witness to Owen passing Ed the package, it was likely Ed wouldn't have the proof he needed to explain why he was there. However, Owen come come forward voluntarily and state the fact, but if Ed's first concern was true, then this would be unlikely.

Meanwhile, besides the thoughts, the plans rushing through Ed's head, he was actively sorting through his next steps.

He'd remembered something curious, something strange, but something that, in this moment, he was thankful for.

For reasons he could barely fathom, his grandfather always insisted on Ed having a 'go-bag' packed, with enough supplies to last him at least a week. His grandfather wasn't a paranoid man, but he always insisted Ed be prepared for anything.

According to his grandfather, it was an old habit from his time in Wessex, where he lived by the coast, only a few miles from the shores of Roman occupied Francia. Apparently he'd always had it ready to flee if ever he saw Roman galleons, warships or Airships on the horizon.

It made sense to Ed that he did that in Wessex, but Danelaw was much further north and it never really made much sense to him.

Each year, his grandfather made him re-pack the go-bag with new clothes, ones that fit. He went along with it for a long time but gave up when he left school, he just didn't see the point. In retrospect, he felt like he grew out of it, like when he matured and started to become his own person, he moved on from doing things because his grandfather told him to.

Ed ran to his grandfather's old room, practically a memorial to him, the bed neatly made, the brass bedside clock still ticking, his favourite chess set still in rehearsed formation. The first place he checked was the polished wood draws, the second, under the bed. Nothing but old clothes and boxes of keepsakes. But when Ed checked the closet, elation took hold as he found exactly what he was looking for.

Two leather duffle bags nestled in the back, each labbeled 'Ed' and 'Alden'. Ed grabbed them, tossed them on the ground and search the contents. For a moment he was caught up, reminiscing his grandfather's possessions. A picture of the two he had taken when Ed finished school, a bottle of his old cologne. But he couldn't think about that now.

He search his own bag and to his surprise, he found his clothes were about the right size. Ed surmised that his grandfather must have continued packing it to suit him, even after Ed finished doing it himself.

Although, he hated to admit it, there was a brief moment where he chuckled to himself, thanking his grandfather for having him prepared with something that was so unlikely to be needed.

It was a long shot but as far as Ed could tell, his best possible chance to clear his name, at least from being accused of being the Slayer, was to find an alibi. The police were able to use magic as part of their forensics at crime scenes and could determine the time of death of victims. All Ed had to do was find a witness to testify he was with them or saw him somewhere other than the scene of the murder at the time of death.

But this wouldn't solve all his issues. From what Ed could tell when he was there, the body of that poor victim was fresh and there'd be no way to prove he didn't murder her in some sort of copycat fashion and tag his name on the wall for his own sick enjoyment.

Unless some miraculous evidence was discovered, he may never be cleared of that crime. Ed wasn't sure how he'd cope knowing that. Always being on the run, always looking over his shoulder, never able to settle down and be happy. He could feel a sickening sensation building up inside him at the thought.

So, with everything he needed gathered, every motion, every play, every scenario considered. He took one last peek in his grandfather's room, wishing he were here to help him, to guide him. Then he picked up his bags, flung them over his shoulder and left his house for possibly the last time.