Ayesha studied her reflection, trying to get used to her dark hair without its white streak. It had faded as she’d entered Old Monmouthshire Territory, confirming the relinquishing of her powers. Turning from the bathroom mirror she flicked a mental command at the hand basin cold water tap, but it didn’t turn and no water flowed. Not that she had really wanted it to.
“Just testing,” she muttered to herself. “Just… fucking… testing.”
Being an ordinary citizen, minus all magical elements, was taking some getting used to.
And that old fart, Oblique, had not let her bring Aimi along for company, or even tell her what was going on.
“Miss Underwood,” he had decided, “will be at less risk, both to you and herself, if she remains ignorant of the facts. So far, her connection to you has not made her a target, and we will place her under protective surveillance for her own wellbeing.”
“Aw, but Aimi and I…”
“Spare me the details,” interrupted Mister Oblique.
“…are best friends,” finished Ayesha with an impish smile.
The old guy was so antique in some of his attitudes. The thought of girl-on-girl action had him shuddering.
Mister Mo was in the next hotel room to hers, but since she was incognito in Newport it was unlikely that an actual bodyguard would be needed. Mo probably would not agree, so would have to be outsmarted if she were to find out if any fun were to be had in such a dump. A straight fling might be amusing and would satisfy her bisexual nature. Ayesha and Aimi had been exclusive for quite a while now.
Looking down from her hotel room window, she spotted a Big Issue seller on the pavement opposite, not a promising site as there were very few passers-by, and the feller was absolutely ancient. Definitely a birthday card from the Queen territory; a hundred if he was a day! Old and dilapidated, a bit like Newport itself, which was probably the same for similar towns and cities spread across all of the UK.