Oleandra awoke from her torpor with a start. She had placed sets of runes on the windows and the door to her room, and invoked their power by weaving a spell that would alert her if anybody entered without her permission. Raidhu, Elhaz and Odala were blaring loudly in her mind, which had roused her from her drug-induced sleep; someone had broken into her hotel room.
Evidently, someone had drugged her food in order to poke around her things while she slept— or worse. Oleandra cracked open an eye to survey the situation; two women were rummaging through her discarded clothes. It was still dark outside, but the table lamps were lit, casting their weak light around the room.
"Where is it?" grunted one of the women in frustration. She was very burly, like a bodybuilder. "Are you sure she's a Witch? I can't find her wand."
"I'm sure she's one, just look at those robes," another woman said; Oleandra recognized her voice as that of the receptionist. "Our Lady is never mistaken; there was a Thief's Rainfall tonight, and the girl was the only one to enter town around that time. I'm also fairly certain she pulled some kind of trick on me, but I can't figure out what kind of magic she did on me…"
Cold sweat ran down Oleandra's forehead. These Muggle women knew enough about the Wizarding World to know that their kind carried wands and wore robes. This was a breach of the Statute of Secrecy of the worst variety: a Muggle organization had uncovered the existence of magic, and the French Ministry of Magic was none the wiser.
But that wasn't all; according to what they were saying, their leader was an incredibly powerful Witch. Not just any Witch could alter the weather over such a large area; not to mention enchant that much rain with the properties of Thief's Downfall. That explained why Oleandra's own enchantments had all failed upon stepping out of her car and into the rain…
"Don't move," a third female voice said above her. "I've got you at gunpoint; make one wrong move, and I will shoot."
Oleandra's heart sank. She had just heard the unmistakeable sound of a handgun's slide clicking back into place; the woman had just chambered a new round into the barrel of her gun from a fresh magazine.
"You're not fooling anybody," the voice continued. "I saw your eye open; now, hands behind your head, slowly get to your feet and face the wall."
Oleandra scowled and did as she was asked. If she had been asked to put her hands in the air, she would have been able to use Elhaz's defensive stance, but this position didn't match any of the twenty-four runes.
The receptionist hurried to her side and began checking her bath towel (the only garment she was currently wearing, as she'd fainted right out of the bath) for a hidden wand; but right as she was finishing up her search, the burly woman held up the snapped remains of Oleandra's wand.
"Found it!" she called out. "Looks like it's broken, though."
"You're coming with us," the armed woman said as she seized Oleandra by the elbow and spun her around so that she faced towards her instead of the wall. "Our Lady will want a word with—"
But before she could finish her sentence, Oleandra decided to keep the circular movement going and continued spinning, slamming her forehead into the woman's nose. Freeing her right hand, she took aim at the lamps lighting the room, and curling her fingers into the sign of the Thorn, shouted, "Thursaz! Thursaz!"
The table lamps exploded into fragments of ceramic and broken glass, plunging the room into obscurity. But as long as there was still even a little bit of light, Oleandra's Mystic Eyes could see just fine in the dark. Out of the corner of her eye, she could see the strongwoman fumbling her way in the dark towards her, so Oleandra jumped away and froze her with an, "Isaz!"
"Damn it, I can't see a thing," the receptionist swore. "Enora, whatever you do, don't kill her! We want her alive!"
The woman with the Great War era handgun swore and wiped her bloody nose with her sleeve, before taking aim directly at Oleandra's head at point-blank range; even though she had moved, and they were in the dark. Oleandra's eyes widened in shock; she hadn't noticed that the woman had been wearing glasses; magical ones at that. The woman squeezed the trigger, and Oleandra shouted, "Elhaz!"
Oleandra cried out in pain and fright. The bullet had completely ignored her magical defences and grazed her cheek; hot gases emitted from the barrel leaving a black gunpowder burn on the side of her face. The brief flash of light from the gunfire briefly illuminated her attacker, allowing Oleandra to fully witness the cold determination on her face.
Meanwhile, the bullet ricocheted off the stone bricks of the outer wall before embedding itself into a wooden bedpost. It must have had a metal jacket, because it produced a shower of sparks where it struck the wall, briefly lighting up the room like Christmas lights.
The burly woman moved quickly for her size; she easily shook off Oleandra's magic, and taking advantage of the flash of light to see where she was going, closed the gap between them with two great strides and got Oleandra in a full nelson from behind.
"Thursaz!" Oleandra repeated, this time infusing her own limbs with giant's strength.
But try as she might, she could not throw the burly woman off of her. The strain was beginning to make her bones and muscles ache, so Oleandra quickly let go of the magic. Even though she hadn't used hand signs or stances to bolster her magic's power, there was no way an ordinary human could be so strong or resilient that she couldn't free herself with her temporarily enhanced strength…
"Stop resisting," the burly woman warned her. "Or else, I'll break your arms."
Oleandra believed her, and quickly stopped her wriggling, deciding instead to make use of her brain. These three women were very clearly Muggles, but they had each made use of magic as a weapon.
Enora, the woman with the gun, possessed enchanted glasses that allowed her to see in the dark; perhaps only one of its abilities, among other unknown ones. Her bullets had also been enchanted to pierce through magical wards; this Oleandra knew, because the ancient-looking semiautomatic handgun was not glowing in her vision, which meant it wasn't magic.
As for the receptionist, she had dosed her food with Sleeping Draught. And judging by the bottles hanging from a bandolier around her shoulder, that was not the only potion she had at her disposal.
The burly woman had some magic running through her veins… but it wasn't her own. She had very clearly made liberal use of Strengthening Solution, increasing her strength to superhuman levels.
"Before you take me anywhere," Oleandra said miserably, as the receptionist flicked on the ceiling lights, "would you mind if I put on some clothes?"