Goodnight nods once, choppily, as her eyes scans the street. "Yes." She replies softly, her voice calm and sweet and entirely at odds with the professional mask and steely gaze that had replaced her appeasing smile. She has drek for data, no guidelines, and two of the mundanes are children. Teenagers, sure, and age meant little in London Below, but still...
Goodnight steps out past the nameless runner with the roving eyes, though he overtakes her quickly enough. Her eyes linger on the girl in the group for a moment and she winces as she realizes that she's roughly the same age as Victoria. She doesn't know what the spirits or their unseen summoner wants, but Goodnight doesn't much care. With a thought and a whispered word, her power focus blazes to life, going from silver, white gold, and opals to a band of snowy flame around her slender throat.
Marshalling her thoughts, she commands the fire spirit she'd summoned earlier. Indicating the building where the strongest spirit is, the one that the family is fleeing, she commands, Go. Aid the mortals you find there. The spirit will obey, Goodnight knows. She wonders for a second how the 'runners still inside will react to the sudden appearance of another fire spirit with the horns-and-wings profile a classical succubus. As a black magic spirit of fire, and a strong one at that, she knows that its definition of aid will manifest suddenly, violently, and all over the place, but if her employer wanted subtlety, it should have been specified.
"See it through to the end," indeed!
With a deceptively leisurely walk that still carries her a good twenty meters, Goodnight sets off up the street towards the fleeing family, her eyes peeled for other attacks.
In the building
There was a crackle, the smell of brimstone, and a second wave of heat. A coruscating column of red-tinged flame roared up suddenly from the floor, geysering ceilingward from a crack that had not been there a moment ago. Then the flame folded back on itself, contracting and changing into another spirit of fire. This one was a woman, a being of grace and beauty cast in the demonic image of its mistress. Flames crowned her head instead of hair, a luxurious mane of red and orange and purple tapers, and crackled on her hands. Wings with struts of blackened bone and panels of citrine fire were folded behind her, and slim black horns curled back along her head, ending in needle points. Her otherwise-nude body was shrouded in ribbons of fire and smoke, concealing her more intimate aspects, if there was anything behind the coverings at all. Her face was similar to Goodnight's, the same big eyes and pouting lips, but her expression was as cruel as a hunting cat's.