Sara's (former) landlord office, Northgate, Seattle, King County, Washington, Monday, December 7th, 2015 08:00f

The girl missed the school bus and now was truant. And pissed. She knocked on the door, didn't wait to get an answer, and barged in. Something metallic clattered on the floor but it wasn't her fault the lock latch was loose. Nobody would believe a tiny girl her age had broken it.

"Mr. Seymore?"

"Who the fuck you think you are barging in like this... Wait, aren't you the Miller girl? Why the wings, Halloween was a month ago!"

"Yes, that's me. And this is my lawyer," Sara thumbed at the main in an Italian suit behind her.

"Alex Seymore?" The lawyer asked. The landlord nodded. The lawyer extended a thick bundle of blue paper to him. "I'm David Smith, attorney at law. You have been served."

"What?"

"We are suing you for eviction without due notice, reckless endangerment of a minor, exposing a minor to substantial bodily harm, abandonment of a minor, criminal mistreatment of a minor, criminal negligence, theft, conspiracy to commit mail fraud, mail fraud, conspiracy to commit wire fraud, wire fraud, criminal trespass, and several civil building ordinance violation. Some of these are federal crimes. While our lawsuit runs in the civil court, the state troopers are probably on their way to arrest you," David said.

Alex Seymore's jaw dropped and he froze for a moment as his brain had a severe case of BSOD. Then he sputtered. "What? You can't do that!"

Sara boosted Presence. "The clock is ticking, Mr. Seymore. Once the troopers arrive, we cannot stop them from arresting you. Heck, I don't know even if we can stop them now, it might be too late. Adding it all up, you are looking at about two hundred years in jail. Do you think the Jury will have pity on you who sided with those thieves masquerading as foster parents? After I appear all over the news with these pure white wings? They will lock you up and throw away the key. I doubt you'll be alive for your first parole hearing. Not to mention we are going to take everything you own in civil court and then put you so deep in debt you won't have money to buy a beer even if you ever leave jail. We have a PI looking over your assets right now."

Sara was Death. Though the only person who recognized her as such was Martha Hainsworth, people still unconsciously felt her aura. Especially when she was glaring daggers at someone with superhuman social magical powers making every twitch of her muscles look seven times as menacing. She could run for an Academy Award if she was shooting a movie. Spoiler alert, she was.

"She's right, sir," David added with a stern glare. "You did help the Millers, right?"

"We had an arrangement but they told me you would stay at a relative's house."

"No, they didn't!" Sara screeched at the landlord, causing him to flinch from the magical pressure. She recomposed herself but didn't take her eyes off the man. "Don't you dare lie to me! David, he was served, let's get the hell out of here. I'll see you in court, Mr. Seymore. Hope you look good in orange!"

Seymore caved in.

"Wait, I admit. The Millers told me to keep the deposit if I looked the other way. It's not my fault! What can we do?" Alex pleaded. "Can't we settle this amicably?"

Sara stopped to think. Why would the Millers go to such lengths just to covertly make sure she would be as miserable as possible? She said nothing, letting the lawyer do his job.

"You should contact your lawyer first," David recommended. "While you can strike a deal yourself, it is better to have legal counsel."

"Does he even have time?" Sara snickered.

"Probably not." David could barely hold his smirk.

Alex opened his drawers, "No. I'll settle this right here. How much do you want? Ten? Twenty?"

"Fifty thousand dollars to settle our civil case now. Cash. We won't take a check from you," David negotiated. "Then we need to sign a settlement and non-disclosure agreement. You should contact your lawyer, Mr. Seymore."

"Whooh," Sara mimicked a siren.

"No, that won't be necessary," Alex said as he wiped the sweat off his brow. "We're all friends here."

"And we want to know where the Millers went," Sara added.

"Sure. Those two bastards went to Vegas with your money," Seymore betrayed his accomplices straight away.

Damn.

Sara and David finished their business and left in his car with the money. They remained silent until they stopped the hidden camera and uploaded the video file. 2015's mobile internet was crap. And Sara disliked riding in cars. It messed up her wings even if she had them unfolded all the way to the back seat.

"I can't believe he fell for that. You did great in there, Sara."

"I need the Millers' mugshots sent to Nevada's police. And a search to find their car."

"That is easy. Nevada cops will be after your former foster parents tomorrow after they learn how much money is at stake. Though it also means it won't make it back to you."

"Civil Asset Forfeiture?" Sara asked.

"Yup. In a perfect world, it would be returned to the victim."

"But our world is far from perfect. I don't care. In four years, money will be irrelevant anyway. David, can I hold your hands for a moment? Victory twin handshake?"

She wanted to check his Mana Channels. If she could keep several people from fainting during Armageddon, they would have time to rescue other survivors. It was rather easy to tell survivors right after the Apocalypse hit. Anyone that wasn't medium rare or better was dead.

"I'm driving." He replied curtly.

"Fair enough. Still want my secret handshake."

They stopped at the bakery. "Okay, handshake now," David conceded.

Sara gripped his hands and snickered, "Try not to shiver." Then she poured a little tendril of Ice Mana into his body and was dismayed. David barely had any Mana Channels. The odds were against him, one in a thousand. Her enthusiasm vanished, "I'm sorry."

But she had four years to burn what channels David had open. And the Bartleys. She still desperately wished to save them. The biggest scar the Apocalypse had left in Sara's heart was to make her care about people.

"What was that about money getting worth nothing in four years?"

"David. Do you know what a 'prepper' is?"

"Someone who actively prepares for emergencies?"

"Yeah. It's a nice hobby, isn't it? Especially if you stash twenty-five years' worth of food for your family in an underground bunker. Can you imagine how nice it would be if you could relax knowing your family wouldn't go through hardship and starve or freeze when everything went to shit?"

"You are scaring me."

"Lawyers make a lot of money but it isn't stable income, right?"

"Yeah. It has its ups and downs. But I save most of what I earn."

"But in four years—"

"Money will be worth nothing and I should make a bunker with twenty-five years' worth of food and supplies, right?"

"There's an untapped market there, David. With your charisma, you might even make one without spending a dime out of pocket. All of that sponsored and crowdsourced."

"I'll give it some thought."

"I need to go shopping," Sara said.

"Sure. What do you need?"

"Saddlebags and a saddle for my horse, some cheap used phones."

"We'll take it to a shop tomorrow. I need to get a horse trailer."

They stopped next to the bakery.

"By the way, here's your money." He handed her five thousand dollars. The rest was to cover court filings, bribes to the police, and David's fees. The lawyer had a lot of work to do and Sara believed it to be worth every penny.

Sara went back to the bakery while David went to the courthouse to file the documents and set the date for a settlement conference. It would have the "unintended" side effect of tipping the cops to give Mr. Seymore's business a closer look. Nothing could be traced back to either Sara or David.

*

*

Bartley Residence, Northgate, Seattle, King County, Washington, Friday, December 8th, 2015 07:00f

The next day, Mrs. Bartley drove her to a horse supply shop early in the morning, where she bought a winter hood and neck cover for Chloe, as well as bell boots that would cover the flames on her hooves. It was common in winter and nobody would ask anything.

Then she visited the same shop with Chloe to get the saddle fitted. They used a pony saddle with longer straps because Chloe was too lean. She was only skin and bones, basically. The people at the shop asked about her green fur and if Sara was feeding Chloe properly. The upstanding concerned horse lovers even said veiled threats to her.

They tested Chloe in the field behind the shop. Chloe cantered, galloped, and even jumped a few obstacles like they were nothing keeping her flames down as much as possible. Still, they insisted.

She had no choice but to let a vet check Chloe. That's when David came in handy. He drafted a confidentiality contract on the spot and had the vet sign it. He tried to explain to David that the veterinarian-client relationship was also privileged like physicians but David pointed out who the vet actually worked for. He begrudgingly signed the contract and went to a closed room with Sara and Chloe to examine the horse's health.

He later came back and gave the Pale Horse a clean bill of health. Despite the protruding bones, the emaciated fur, and the deathly appearance, he still noted that Chloe was active and athletic, and her hooves were fine (despite the flames but he wouldn't ever talk about the flames after Sara put the fear of God in his heart – don't ask), she had no parasites, and her heart and breathing were normal. He attested that her appearance was the result of bad genetics and not mistreatment.

*

*

Bartley Residence, Northgate, Seattle, King County, Washington, Friday, December 11th, 2015 00:01f

Chloe couldn't fly but Sara was strong enough to fly while carrying her though not so fast. At night, she slipped out of the Bartley's guest bedroom and hoisted her horse through the air. Minutes later, they were cantering south toward Mt. Rainier, on a charted route using side roads. They had no reason to take the busy interstate highways and it was almost a hundred miles shorter than the arterial highways. The map app said she had 1,070 miles to go. Once they got away from the city lights, Sara took off and followed Chloe from above. Night drivers saw only a wild horse galloping alone down the road, fast enough to trigger any police radars. Without any light shining up and no reason to look at the sky, they wouldn't see the girl gliding on white wings at night.

They soon found the disadvantage of their chosen path. While the roads were deserted as she wanted, it went literally over the mountains, going up and down. Some of the mountain roads were closed in winter but for the two Ice-affinity creatures, it was rather pleasant. With her Thermostasis Skill, Sara could sunbathe in Antarctica during the winter, if she could find any sun to bathe under, that was.

Morning found them in the middle of the I-80 near a small town in Nevada. Sara landed next to Chloe as the horse stopped. She checked her phone. It picked up a signal but she knew she would burn hundreds of dollars on roaming fees if she used it for anything. Hell, even connecting to the network here might incur some fees.

She put her phone on airplane mode, happy the device was too old to get the shitty Apple Maps but not as far back in time to not have offline maps. Google launched the feature only a month ago.

"Let's go off the road before anyone sees us, Chloe. We are riding through the desert now."

The pale horse neighed and clopped, inviting Sara to climb up. After Battle Mountain, they went downhill for a while, and then it was time to take a hiking trail between the scenic mountains north of Las Vegas. Still going up, she had to get out of her route to avoid the line of sight of some mining sites. Gold mines, she later learned. Very sensitive places.

After the mines and a few more mountains, it was the flat Mojave for a long stretch. Until it wasn't. By noon she reached the last peak of her journey, Blue Eagle Mountain. From there, a hundred and fifty miles downhill until she saw the City of Sin.

She slowed down and rode on the roadside, betting against herself how long would it take for the police to pull her over. Fortunately, only Louisiana forbade riding horses on asphalt roads. Ah, the Perks of having a lawyer. But back to being pulled over, she was betting on it. Sara had no fucking idea how to find the Millers in Vegas.

She made it from Seattle to Vegas in twelve hours, through the mountains. It was good to have a magical horse literally gifted (stolen, most probably) from Heaven.