Saithorthepyro
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Chapter 34 - Can you sleep when it gnaws your guts?
🕑 Added 2025-03-31 04:02:22 +0000 UTCOf course, after all of that, I didn’t see Gregory for the rest of the day.
I sat in a carriage, lonely, tired, and cold as we rolled through the city streets, on my way back to my home, driven by a coach driver I’d had to bribe to convince him to take me into the quarter. Only partay, he wouldn’t go that deep into the quarter. And another bribe to assuage his fears I was bringing him here to seduce him, and then sacrifice him mid-coitus to some succubus in return for power.
That kind of thinking had been around forever, but he clearly had been referring to Uncle Seros, or perhaps The Haunting of Greyhook Manor, or maybe even The Island of-
I cut that thought off I stumbled down the street. Now was not the time to think about literature, especially guessing which one had put that idea in his head.
I honestly liked the cheap paperbacks sold in bulk now, probably more than I should, but they were cheap and the people selling them didn’t consider themselves too good to sell to Infernals. I bought them for ease of access, not that I liked them. Cheap ways to pass the time, that was all, not something I enjoyed.
Down the street an Infernal swore, and three younger ones darted among the falling snow, laughing and jeering, all between the ages of ten and fifteen, threadbare clothing and a small leather satchel in the leader’s hands.
They zig-zagged across the street, a middle-aged man in clothing not much better than theirs in pursuit. Barely visible in the swirling snow, they swiftly vanished from sight.
Enough to jolt me out of my musings on my addiction to cheap paperbacks. Wandering listlessly down the streets here could mean being pickpocketed by some youths at best. That little jolt of attentiveness made me hurry my pace and keep my head on a swivel, even as half a dozen parts of me protested, most of all the stump of my tail, stinging in protest as my actual tail dragged across the ground behind me.
I was in one of the better parts of the Quarter, which meant the road could actually support a carriage and the sidewalk was just broken and missing chunks, not completely stolen to path holes in someone’s house. The eyes on me were mostly making sure I wasn’t here to break into their home, not eyeing me up as a target to steal from.
It was snowing pretty badly now, enough that even with a borrowed thick greatcoat I could feel its chill bite gnawing at me as I walked. My legs shivered, and not for the first time I cursed my hooves for not being able to wear shoes. Thick enough that directly touching the cold ground couldn’t be felt, but just awkward and annoying enough to fit clothes to only baggier pants fit my digitigrade legs. Skirts were easier but also weren’t immune to the cold. Or easier to get more layers over my legs. There might finally be enough money in the Quarter to get tailors who actually made clothes Infernals, and if one popped up I’d be in the first in line.
Even with the chill bite of winter, the falling snow, and the reminder that the Quarter wasn’t exactly safe, I made it only halfway down this block before my eyes were drooping again, my steps a little off-balance.
Denying I needed sleep would be foolish, but I needed sleep at my house, not elsewhere. Especially not in the middle of the street where I’d get covered in snow. I might never get up from that rest.
One hoof in front of the other, plodding little steps as the wind gently blew against me and the snow continued to layer on. Stupid city administration, didn’t mages get employed to keep the weather reasonable? Not blizzards that cut visibility down and left those of us walking home freezing and tired.
Then again, most people didn’t come home from work this late. Even those fourteen, sixteen-hour factory shifts started early, everyone from them would already be home. My day had started out later but had run just as long.
Soon after I’d finished that private conversation with Voltar and Dawes, the priests had returned along with that list of names. After that, Voltar had wanted to set out to Lelieth’s church immediately to make sure it hadn’t been deconsecrated.
Turns out she was assigned to the cathedral itself, and Timmel seemed quite sure of its consecration staying intact. I thought. Impossible to read into what they said except for their word choice. I had my own doubts about that, but they were correct that it would be harder to undo the consecration on the seat of Baltaren’s power in the city than just a small chapel, shrine, or a mostly deserted church belonging to a god whose acceptance into the pantheon was still in its early days.
Still, I doubted the killers would give up just because of a little fact like that. At least we could defend the cathedral, unlike the other diabolic priests. Gallapsie and Derrick had demurred from revealing their identities and suggested that we address it tomorrow.
How many more of their people would be dead by then? Honestly, it felt like Voltar cared more about their people’s lives than they did.
I stumbled, nearly landing in the snow and my tail stump burned as I grabbed a barrel to stop my fall. Harsh ragged breaths as I halted, waiting for that burning to fade.
I’d used Biosculpting very briefly to check on my condition on the way over and close any wound that reopened. Alchemicals and a bit of sculpting were keeping the worst of what I’d found at bay, and as for the rest? Nothing good, and nothing likely to get better if I waited on it, so it would be inside, work on getting my tail reattached, try to work on the other injuries until I passed out, then sleep until the sun woke me up. Six hours? Maybe five hours of sleep? It would be enough.
Tomorrow. I’d sleep extra tomorrow.
Stumbling around the street corner, it was nice seeing so few on the streets. A decade ago people would be huddled around each other and what fires they could fuel for warmth, trying to keep alive. The weakest of those who fought over space in the intact buildings of the Quarter. These days, even if it meant going to one of the old warehouses near the Nover, there was space for people.
That thought soured when I remembered the cause. The decision after the Black Flame to open up the Quarter for Conscription. Several years of service, and in return, you would get a pension, a stipend, and eventually rights to live outside the Quarter.
Some of those soldiers had started trickling back, and right now they were still waiting on those rights. I didn’t know which would be the worse outcome, a bunch of Infernals now trained and even more angry at the government, or the Quarter getting just as crowded as it used to be.
Over my head. I’d had my fill of worrying about things like that when the solution ended up stabbing us all in the back. Just keeping my head above the water, that’s what I needed for now.
Through the falling snow, I could see my stop, the stone steps leading up the doorway. I retrieved the key from my pocket, heading on up with a wince every time my splinted tail hit the steps.
I stifled a yawn as I examined the wood door, sleepy eyes, and the dark making it hard to spot the keyhole or the handle.
I paused on my doorstep, my drifting head now staring at the top step.
Some things were hard to compensate for. The snowfall from last night had happened again tonight on my way back from the Baltaren cathedral and had continued over the last couple of hours. Annoying when the sun failed to melt the snow from the day before.
Far too long for the thin layer of snow on my doorstep. This was a layer from maybe a few hours, not two evening’s worth. And the even layer was a little too high on one side. Almost as if someone had brushed across it, trying to cover their tracks. They’d tried to put snow on as well, but it was again mostly on the sides, having to compensate for closing the door once they finished.
Sloppy. Very sloppy. Or they didn’t care if I knew. There were other defenses, but if they made it past the door, they had ways to bypass them, which meant magic. Quietly, I drew my revolver, pulling the hammer back slowly to muffle the click.
This might have been Tagashin. Or some other well-meaning ally who had a poor sense of dramatics and an inability to understand privacy. In which case, well, better to establish now that earned you a gunshot to the gut. I had a door. Knock, like a civilized person.
Sighing, I began to turn around, ready to walk and find someone willing to carry a message. Hells, I’d probably need to find some street kid and make it sound like I could use diabolism to eat their soul if they didn’t deliver the message. Possibly the only way I could be sure they wouldn’t just take the money and run. Kids were gullible, and even if things had changed, not enough that they’d doubt someone claiming that.
I turned around just in time to see the incoming threat.
A figure lurked out of the snow, moving closer, easily seven feet tall, their strides eating up the ground. I pulled the revolver from my pocket as they entered view.
Seven feet tall and as muscled as an ogre, even Mitlau’s horns were thicker than I remembered, massive sharp enough to stab and kill. Not that he needed them as he paused, eyes impassively looking at the gun in my hands. He was dressed for the weather, thick coat, trousers, and boots in ash grey, a heavy hammer in his hands.
Plausible deniability if the Watch ever came and somehow didn’t recognize one of the few Infernals who could plausibly stand taller than a half-ogre. Just a simple workman’s tool, coincidentally the size where it could smash someone’s head apart like a melon.
From the feats I’d seen in the past, probably with no effort on Mitlau’s part. When you could force someone’s brain to spray out of their eye sockets by squeezing their head hard enough, tool assistance was just expanding the ways to kill someone with ease.
“Mitlau,” I said calmly, thumb still on the revolver’s hammer but not pulling back.
Ten feet distance was too little for me to get the revolver aimed and the hammer cocked before he closed it. Assuming a bullet would put him down. If aimed right, sure, but would I have time?
“Malvia,” he replied neutrally, voice lacking almost as much emotion as Timmel’s had. Just without the aid of divine magic.
“So,” I said after a breath out to try and calm myself. “I’ll assume Malachti is lurking inside my shop. Social call, or something else?”
Even odds that little guttersnipe was lurking right by the door, ready to burst out and knife me in the back the moment violence broke out. I tried to urge my tail to get ready, sneak into a coat pocket, and grab a knife in case-
The sudden burst of pain from my stump reminded me that wasn’t happening. Shite.
“Social,” Mitlau said. “Boss is here to see you.”
Versalicci? Here? Hells, could this evening possibly get any worse?
“You are aware my new employers keep an eye on me?” I said to Mitlau, letting the gun lower while my other hand held onto the rail. It was the only thing stopping me from swaying. My eyes kept wanting to droop, only potential fatal peril keeping me awake.
He didn’t say anything, his impassive face the only answer I needed. So much for Intelligence saving my bacon. Hells, if my suspicions were correct, this was just two of their assets meeting.
That wasn’t what this was about, was it? No, I’d never told a soul about any of that, he couldn’t know.
At least I wasn’t close to falling asleep now. The dose of adrenaline I needed to stay awake was the impending possibility of a messy and painful death, how pleasant.
Sighing, I put the key in the doorway. “If I die, you’re the first one to come with me.”
No response, just the shifting of the entire set of steps as he stepped on them, stone audibly groaning as his weight tilted them.
I opened the door, moving my hand to the lantern only to hear a click of another revolver inside my store.
“Uh uh uh Malv,” Malachti said from somewhere inside my store. “Lights on if only the boss okays it. Guess you gotta pay for genetics not giving you a better way to see in the dark. Or you know, you could just use your little flesh-sculpting to make them see better.”
“It is not that easy,” I said, noting where the voice came from.
My shop’s front room wasn’t that complicated, just some shelves in the middle, more to the sides against the walls, the occasional display case of potions, and finally my counter in the back, a single door blocking off access to the stairs going up and down. From where Malachti’s voice was, he was lounging on top of one of my display cases.
“I have to remove them, and work on them for days,” I said. “It’s not as easy as making flesh move or repair itself. I have to modify their existing structure without slipping up and accidentally rendering them useless. Oh, and I have to keep them removed the entire time. So no, I can’t just make myself see in the dark.”
Randomly having an eye go missing only for it to suddenly appear again was a terrible way to hide you could Biosculpt. Even now, while Intelligence knew, others did not. Frankly, with how many people knew secrets about me? I wanted to keep some of them not known to the general public.
“Malvia,” my brother said, his tone pleasant. “I see you’ve been up to quite a bit today.”
Shite. He was further back, possibly behind my counter? I might be the only one here who couldn’t see in the dark.
“Yes,” I replied as politely as I could. “It’s been a very eventful one. Not quite a fall down some stairs, but arguably bad enough.”
“Seriously Malv,” Malachti said, leaning against one of my shelves, just barely within sight. “We know you don’t like being an Infernal, but that’s no cause to chop off your own tail.”
Click went the revolve in my hand and immediately Mitlau had my wrist. I went limp as his hand grabbed my arm, covering all the way from my wrist to two-thirds of the way to my elbow. If I’d tried fighting, all he needed to do was squeeze and things would start breaking.
“Gio,” I said softly, aware of Mitlau staring intently just a few feet away, hand giving me a little slack but it could close so swiftly. “Do you want this to devolve into a series of insults between me and your court jester, or can this be a productive conversation? One where some of us get to sleep after? Because quite honestly, after the day I’ve had, the temptation to just burn everything down in a nice lovely dose of Hellfire is sounding quite a neat solution to everything.”
Mitlau and Malachti both tensed, and I could see Malachti moving in the dark while Mitlau’s hand was already coming up and-
“Either of you move another inch and you can consider you all as good as burnt toast,” I said, my other hand casually pointing at a suddenly unmoving Mitlau. “The same goes for anyone else you’ve brought along Gio. And for anyone counting on your ancestry to offer some protection? This is an alchemy store. Setting a few dozen kinds of potions aflame is a guarantee for some truly chaotic magical effects. Anyone want to spend the rest of their lives with their head turned into a teacup?”
I exaggerated. It probably wouldn’t do that. Maybe. Well, some of my personality might have seeped through into some of the spells belonging to the transmutation. Still, it would probably only turn their flesh into porcelain. Not a literal teacup. It might be patterned porcelain
“There is no reason for hostility, sister,” Versalicci said smoothly. “We’re just here to ask a few questions.”
“You broke into my shop, are currently threatening me, and are stopping me from going to sleep,” I said. “You can come back tomorrow.”
“Not an option Malv,” Malachti said. “‘Fraid these questions can’t wait.”
“I’m talking to the boss,” I told him, keeping a level tone as much as I wanted to just say damnations to everything and make him shriek with pain as flames ate him. “Same statement as before about this being productive, Gio.”
“Malachti, enough,” Versalicci said. “I don’t want to be here all night while you try to kill my sister with your tongue.”
“Disgusting, but message received boss,” Malachti said.
I could have also done without that phrasing, but him being quiet was an improvement.
“Can I sit down?” I asked. Honestly having Mitlau hold onto me was helping keep me up, but I just wanted to get off my damn hooves. Especially because I could feel where one had been chipped during the fight, and with the drugs wearing off each little movement was working on trying to widen it.
“No,” Versalicci said. “I’d rather you be awake than asleep, or potentially even dead. You look like you’re not very far from a trip to the morgue, Malvia.”
“Keep me up much longer and I’ll be there,” I said. “Would someone please turn a light on? So I can see who I’m talking to, and if you are robbing me blind?”
“You offend me, sister,” Versalicci said. “I’m a strident supporter of local, Infernal-owned businesses. In all seriousness, who attacked you?”
“People involved in a case,” I replied. “The priest murders. More diabolism, which means fun times for all of us. Can we at least turn on the lights? I want to at least look you in the face.”
“Fair enough. Mitlau?”
The lantern lit and I could see, even if it didn’t provide the best illumination.
Malachti grinned at me, laying on top of a shelf, giving me a jaunty little wave as I glared at him before what lay on top of his head drew my gaze.
He was wearing the same pink and white top hat Tagashin had worn yesterday. I looked at in confusion, blinking a couple of times. Had Malachti somehow gotten the drop on Tagashin? Impossible, Malachti was skilled, mostly in pissing people off but he was a capable thief, but there was no way he could match a Kitsune in guile, sneakiness, or even in pissing people off. He’d bought a facsimile or something. Because he also shared the same fashion sense as her, except worse since at least the rest of Tagashin’s ensemble at least matched that color.
I tore my eyes off of the eyesore and turned my attention to my brother, at the counter, same position I had stood at when he came in yesterday, same smart suit
To my anger, Versalicci had decided to start going through my business ledger, occasionally turning a page. That honestly might be irritating more than him stealing something, don’t go looking through my clients list.
“You know you’re undercharging what some of these people can afford, Malvia,” he told me. “Things have improved enough you don’t have to charge the locals like they see only a third of the Imperial coin people outside the Quarter might have. Half what a human earns is the standard these days.”
Critiquing my business practices? Hells, if he launched into a lecture on how I should handle it, I was…well not going to do anything at this moment.
“It’s called building goodwill,” I said irritably, ignoring the sniggering from Malachti. “People tend to remember that when hard times come for you.”
“Entirely transactional then?”
As if my relationships with other people took on any other forms, these days. Oh, no, one exception. The Imperial Government, where I got nothing from my services.
“So,” I said, ignoring the question and heading right to what should be discussed.. “I apparently warrant another visit, after your one yesterday to drop cryptic nonsense in my lap, and a slightly lesser amount of it in that letter at my doorstep. If you wanted Tyler stopped, he’s stopped, and if you have complaints about how it was handled, you should have sent your own people. I do want to note, Holmsteader is convinced I’m working for you, so she might try to take some aggression out on your people.”
Versalicci sighed. “While I’d prefer you have kept him alive, I have no objections to Mr. Tyler’s death given his wanton killing of our people. And no, I will not answer questions about how I discovered his activities. And I couldn’t care less about Holmsteader. I do want answers on something else instead.”
“And what might that be?”
“Where is Melissa, Malvia?” Versalicci asked me, tapping the surface of my countertop.
How to answer? He clearly knew she’d been here yesterday, but how much did he actually know? Or was he just blindly fishing?
A better question was why Melissa had failed to return to the Flame, but that was another mystery. One not threatening my life this very second.
“I don’t know,” I said frankly. “Since last I saw her? I assumed she went back to you. If she didn’t, I had nothing to do with that.”
“And what will you claim as the time you last saw her?” Versalicci said, still idly going through my papers. “Yesterday, when she came here with me to see you in the morning, or when she left that gaggle of priests and assorted government thugs you’re now a part of?”
Nothing useful in there, but it still rankled to see him going through my business records, my property, my things. But no, don’t become unbalanced Malvia.
“The latter,” I said. “And honestly Gio, after Voltar has foiled plans of yours how many times, calling him a thug? Bearing a grudge?”
Honestly, he might. I’d never seen it show, but I could hardly doubt my brother’s ability to wear a convincing mask.
“The man mostly operates on cases approved by Her Majesty’s Government, sent in by Her Majesty’s Government, and almost never at cross purposes to Her Majesty’s Government,” Versalicci said without any rancor. “A very intelligent thug, but a thug nonetheless. You don’t deny Melissa accompanied you yesterday?”
“Yes, I’m going to deny something you’ve clearly had reported to you while Mitlau is here ready to do very painful things to me with his hands, and Malachti is here to do equally painful things with his voice.”
Malachti just grinned, continuing to lounge, while Mitlau idly considered my words and then nodded once.
“She was attached to our group as your representative,” I said. “I’ll leave it up to you to figure out if she approached us or the other way around. She thought you would need an advocate on your behalf, and given what has transpired. Did a bit of talking on your behalf.”
“And what has Melissa said?” Versalicci asked me, still supposedly absorbed in my business accounting.
“Very little, outside of trying to convince us the corpse of a Black Flame member being at one of the crime scenes didn’t mean you were involved,” I told him, not the truth since she’d left before then, but it might rattle him some. “I can’t speak to her effectiveness.”
Versalicci paused mid-page turn, and I almost rolled my eyes. He wasn’t actually shocked, he was doing it for dramatic effect. I’d spent far too long around him for those faked tells to work anymore.
“One of my people was there and dead?” he asked. “Clearly, not with my approval. It would be a horrendously stupid idea to be mixed up in all of this.”
“Yes,” I said. “It would be very stupid. So you’re still on the list of potential suspects for pretty much everyone.”
“Sister,” he said with faked offense. “You wound me by even suggesting it.”
“And you wound me by thinking I wouldn’t consider it some greater plot,” I replied drily. “Besides, I don’t rank above anyone on this ‘Group of thugs’ as you called them. Voltar hardly thinks well of you, and one of the two ranking priests is a Bishop of Halspus. I’ll give you exactly one guess of who he thinks is the primary suspect.”
He paused, considering that, and that little pensive frown might actually be genuine.
“It is of course a ridiculous course of action for me to take,” he said. “What possible benefit do I get from openly assassinating priests of the various religions? It’s a crime their deities only hurt our kind, but I’m not a fool to make our war with them public.”
That, that I could actually believe. Oh, not the bit about a war, flowery hyperbole that grated on my ears, but the rest was plausible enough.
“Well,” I said politely. “You can always take your case up with them yourself. You know Voltar’s address, the Watch officer you’ll want at the Coffin is Captain Walston, a Bishop Gallaspie at the Church of Hallll-”
My voice cut off as Mitlau’s grip tightened, feeling like a vise squeezing my wrist.
Versalicci moved from behind the counter, moving closer as tried to wrench my arm free of Mitlau and failed. I froze as Malachti got down from the shelf, joining Versalicci.
My brother stopped, only feet away, staring intently at my face, face as still as stone, expression.. contemptuous. My gut twisted at that.
“I want you to find Melissa for me,” he said. “If you can.”
“Get your own people to do it,” I said, unable to get my voice above a hoarse whisper. “I don’t work for you anymore. I refuse to work for you anymore.”
“You just performed a favor for me yesterday, did you not?” He asked, that piercing gaze locked right on me. “What would make this different?”
“Service for the Quarter,” I spat. “If I knew it would convince you I would work for you again, I’d have let Tyler kill a hundred more Infernals. I don’t work for you anymore Gio.”
He frowned, breaking the gaze for a few seconds, while Malachti grinned, miming a knife under my throat. I ignored him, just trying not to whimper as Mitlau’s grip slowly tightened. At least now I had no trouble staying awake.
“Why do you despise me, Malvia?” Versalicci asked, voice gone so calm you could taste the menace coiled underneath that mask. “I thought your desertion cowardice originally, that or you trying to drink yourself into a stupor dulling your wits. But as time goes on and you seem to actually hate me, I wonder what would have made you hate me so virulently. When we came back, and later found you still alive, I wondered if you would ever come to give an accounting for yourself. Instead, you showed up, all foul language and antagonism towards me. I thought it was just another mask, bravado instead of stoicism, maybe a mark of some shame or embarrassment and you trying to cover it up with aggression. Instead, I wonder, is that what you really think of me?”
Malachti wasn’t grinning, expression gone quizzical, and I couldn’t see Mitlau as I was focused on looking Versalicci in the eyes, not letting my gaze waver at all. This was where it could all come crashing down.
“I..” mouth dry, my mind searched for something, anything to feed him instead of the truth. However, could a different kind of truth suffice? “I wanted out. Done with it all. Cowardice, but I was tired by the end. I wanted out, I wanted free of it all, and I was until circumstance dragged me back in. I thought I could still scrape towards the end there, but reality made it clear where my fate was. So, yes, bravado brother.”
Versalicci looked at me, expression intent, as if he could pull the actual facts from my head if he stared long enough. The Imp maybe?
I matched his steel gaze, then let it slowly drift down to the bottom. I didn’t feel any shame, but maybe this was enough to fool him. Maybe not. The moment any of them twitched, I’d flood this room with fire.
Finally, he sighed. “Disappointing. This is what I raised from the gutter? A coward who ran when it finally got hot?”
“A coward who lived while you made others die for a doomed dream,” I said quietly. Doomed by you.
“At least they died for a dream,” Versalicci snapped. “If I kill you right now, sister, what do you die for?”
“Same thing anyone else who got killed by us did,” I said. “Unless you want to pretend we only ever killed Watch.”
“Yes, because you’re such a judge of moral and righteous behavior,” Versalici said, a bit of anger in his voice. “I remember some of the things you did before you even joined us, things Varrow boasted about when he first told me of you. The things you suggested without even a hint of hesitation in your tone. Tell me something Malvia, am I supposed to believe you wouldn’t do any of them again?”
“It’s a way to keep alive,” I said quietly. I shouldn’t get upset, didn’t need to get upset. As if Versalicci had any reason to lecture me about morals.
“I never questioned it because I thought it was done for the cause,” Versalicci said. “Not because you’d chop a screaming person apart for the fun of it.”
Keep calm. Provocation. This was the person who’d employed Mitlau, Golvar, Daver, and easily over a dozen others who were worse than me. They reveled in it, I hadn’t. There was a difference. There was.
“I’m very tempted to force-feed you one of these concoctions sister,” Versalicci told me. “Just to double check. I’m sure we’ll hit upon a truth potion eventually.”
I giggled at that and gave him a toothy smile.
“Bluff,” I said. “If it was at random you wouldn’t risk feeding me something like oh so, intangibility, fire breath, ironskin, a few different other effects that would make this little standoff rather one-sided. And if it isn’t random? Do you think I keep truth serums in this store that work on me?”
A pause as I let him chew on that, and then I turned my attention to Malachti.
“Please tell me you bought that hat from a store?” I asked him, desperate to take my attention anywhere else.
He grinned, all sharp and pointy and honestly a little intimidating. Wasn’t too often I was on the other side of one of those grins.
“I’m just going to let you wonder on that one,” he said cheerily.
“Right, well, I suppose if you stole it from her I can’t be too upset,” I said with as much cheer as I could muster. “It’ll be disappointing to not be the one to kill you but I can live with it being her. Better spend your next week on the lookout for errant boomerangs.”
“Boomerangs?” Malachti repeated disbelievingly.
“She’s very lethal with them,” I said, having no idea. Tagashin had faked one death with one, not actually killed anyone, and honestly had probably done it for laughs. Honestly, I should have kept my mouth shut and let Malachti suffer death by kitsune without an actual warning.
“I suppose you have a point on the usefulness of testing your veracity,” Versalicci admitted, drawing my gaze back to him. He’d finally put my ledger away, now leaning on my countertop like he owned it, chin resting on his hands as he considered me. “This does leave the issue of us having to trust the words of a traitor and a coward.”
You betrayed us first, I thought, refusing to rise to the bait. You made us do those things for you, and you never even meant what you sent. I did things for you because I thought it was for a better world, and so I wouldn’t die.
“You could always kill me,” I told him. “Of course, that would make it look like you’re covering your tracks after the investigation had started to close in. Might not be for the best.”
“Who would say I’m the first suspect?” Versalicci said. “Even discounting the current piece of business your new owners have set you to, you made quite a variety of enemies on the last one. Enough that I might not even be the top suspect anymore. So then Malvia, what does stop me from killing you?”
“The fact I could just pour out hellfire and make you, me, and your two minions all explode into little pieces,” I said. “Honestly, Malachti, learn to properly cover your tracks. Seriously Gio, you need to look into getting a better class of minion, then you could have just slit my throat in my sleep.”
“True,” Versalicci said. “But I prefer people who are loyal and actually courageous. Unlike you.”
Swallow the anger, don’t let it show. I owed him nothing, and the same for the other two here.
“Judgment from a man with many times my body count,” I sneered, then gasped as that grip tightened.
“Don’t tighten it Mitlau,” Versalicci said. “Sister, if all things in life were measured by blood spilled, people with much better intentions than both of us would be far more damned. And quite frankly, I did it for a cause. I did it for the betterment of our people. From what I can tell, you’ve done it for yourself before and after you joined me, and quite frankly I doubt your heart was ever in the cause itself. Was it?”
Something burned inside me, and I swallowed even as it felt like chewing on glass.
“I have nothing I need to justify to you.”
“Hmm,” he said, considering me, then shrugging. “True enough, and as long as you don’t kill too many of our people, letting you live is worth more than risking the further wrath of the Empire. This does leave us in the same boat as before. You having to find Melissa on my behalf.”
“I need more than you threatening to kill me,” I told him. “Because that ends the moment you leave.”
“True. Normally I’d threaten that brunette little dandy since you’ve been seen in his company again,” Versalicci said. “However, given your rather explosive break-up and how little you’ve seemingly cared for your partners after break-ups, a bit of a long shot, wouldn’t you say?”
I didn’t say anything, just staring up at him, hand on the floor. Wood underneath hissed and cracked, little tendrils of diabolism reaching in and ready to set it all ablaze at any thought.
“I suppose I can only count on you caring about exactly one person in this entire world, and luckily for me, she hasn’t moved from her bed in St. Lanian’s for years now,” Versalicci said as he stared down at me as my chest went could. “Makes you slightly better than most of your kind. You have at least one person I don’t think you’d kill if it meant you or them. Consider this your one warning Malvia. I want Melissa found.”
He…my hand nearly tightened around the revolver but I forced it still, I shouldn’t let him know how much but I would blow that fucking, arrogant, traitor’s head clean off his neck! Forget the fact I’d be dead, just end him, now and forever.
That bit of anger guttered and died as Mitlau’s hand tightened around my forearm, something cracking and I swallowed a scream but stayed still. No, even if I did kill him, he wouldn’t have come here without leaving instructions. Including the deaths of anyone he thought would I care about. Damnations, coward I was I wouldn’t give up my life for that.
He walked to my door, opened it with a gust of cold air and snow coming inside, and then left. Malachti followed a second later, leaving Mitlau alone with me, still with his hand around my forearm.
Five seconds, as I stared not at him but at that closed door, muscles tense with the effort of not trying to wrench my hand from Mitlau’s grasp and send hellfire and half a dozen other things after Versalicci.
Mitlau let go, heading to the door now.
“Don’t do anything foolish Harrow,” he said flatly, and then he left, leaving me in my store stewing, staring after them, trembling, thumb pulling back the hammer.
Breathe in. Breathe out. Don’t be rash. Heal yourself, get some rest, then think on how to handle this. One mistake Versalicci. You told me who would be targeted first. And I wasn’t on my own anymore.
I was going to win. I could beat him. I could. I wasn’t a coward for not finally ending him. There was a difference when you knew you would die doing it and not. A difference between slitting a throat when someone couldn’t fight back and knowing you’d die if you did. It made one act pragmatic, and other stup-
I dry-heaved, falling to the ground at that thought, nothing in my stomach to go on my floor as I hacked and tried to empty an empty stomach.
Versalicci could talk about what I’d done for him, before him, after him, but I’d not done it out of glee. Something different from Malachti, I just did it…like Mitlau, that was better, wasn’t it? Oh, hells.
There were more than my mother I cared for. Clearly. I didn’t just kill people on the street for the fun of it. If my life was at risk I’d…I’d bite out throats and face.
It had been for a cause. During the Flame. Before and after, it had been.
My mind blanked. Gain? Pragmatism? The most I could say if I hadn’t killed for fun.
Neither had Versalicci, and not out of any cause either. Maybe we were closer siblings than I thought.
Shaking, I only now realized my tears were staining the floor beneath me.
Comments
Saithor
It's always a concern I have. I maybe should have emphasized how essentially the standoff is a bluff on both ends, although Malvia has much more to lose from it going off than the other three. I can't promise we are on the upswing quite yet either. I hope you are still enjoying the story.
Stuart Anderson
Yeah, not a huge fan of her just being a punching bag here. She never seems to win any encounters and comes across quite spineless here. Still it is interesting!
Lecture Filler
Hope Tagashin goes after Malachti. Just a little bit. Even better would be if it was actually Tagashin shapeshifted, there to watch over Malvia. Pretty sure she can pull it off. Idk the logistic, but she has the magic to do it.
