Chapter Text
Getting in had been easy. No one suspected anything about a stranger coming into the Albarca Baths to watch the nightly fights in the Eyeless’s club. The Dockyards were dirty and the Baths were just as grimy on the inside and out, and the people hanging around the club seemed just as nasty. The tiled floor shone dull under the electric lights and echoed every sound. Billie had bought a drink early in the evening and sauntered up to the betting desk to listen in on The Eyeless’s conversations. They all casually discussed the horrible deaths of other fighters at the hands of their beloved Brute while Billie listened in disgusted silence. When she’d heard enough, she slipped away through an unlocked door and snatched a key away from the club’s owner. Billie had a feeling that getting out of the Baths would be just as easy.
Downstairs again, Billie looked down into the cage where the Brute was being held. Her breath caught in her throat. She’d never seen Daud so pale, so old. Whatever the suppression field was doing had clearly taken a toll on his health. But, even as Billie unlocked the switch casing and turned the field off, she felt arcane power emanating from him. In one blink Daud stood from the chair, and in another, everyone in the Baths cried out and fell limp to the floor. Daud stood silently in the center of the bodies, breathing hard and clutching his chest. Billie took a cautious step towards him. “Daud…” she rasped, her eyes widening as she fully took in the old man in front of her.
Daud’s hair had grayed so much that it was pure white, and the wrinkles on his face had become deeper with time. His clothes were torn and stained with blood from past fights, and probably smelled just as bad. His shoulders sagged and dark circles from lack of sleep ringed his eyes like bruises. He looked like he should be dead.
Daud tried to take a step forward but groaned in pain, and as he moved Billie caught sight of a flash of color on his clothes. She looked closer and saw that vines of ivy and clumps of orange flowers sprung thick from Daud’s chest. Foliage poked out from his collar and grew up over his clothing. The vines continued to wind like a vise around his neck and jaw, reaching as far as the start of his scar. Billie had felt the energy that surrounded Daud before, fifteen years ago. The Brigmore Witches’ magic had deep penetrating roots, invasive and parasitic. It had seduced her, but how had it seduced Daud?
“I know what you’re thinking,” Daud said, not looking at Billie. She noticed his shoulders were sagging and he seemed unsteady on his feet. “After I went to the mansion, they—” He cut himself off with a coughing fit that made Billie wince and quickly guide him to the benches by the wall. Daud sat gratefully and fiddled with one of his vines’ leaves. He coughed more, but not as hard as before, while Billie dragged a chair over the sit across from him.
“Did the Eyeless do this to you?” she asked, jerking her thumb at the bodies on the floor. A witch that’d been part of Delilah’s old coven had been guarding the bar entrance, Billie recalled. Maybe Daud’s affliction was part of the suppression field?
Daud shook his head. “No. After I trapped Delilah in the Void, the remaining witches caught and cursed me,” he explained. He rolled his shoulders and scratched at the thick vine over the scar on his face. “Honestly, I think these Void-damned plants are only thing that’s been keeping me alive down here.”
Billie frowned and crossed her arms. “Delilah’s dead and her coven is completely powerless. Shouldn’t you be un-cursed?” she asked. Daud considered that for a moment, but smiled ruefully and laughed, the sound grating like torn metal.
“Doesn’t mean the bitch that cursed me is dead. Void magic has a mind of its own,” he said. Daud clenched his fist and blinked up above the scoreboard, next to a copy of Sokolov’s painting of The Outsider. His plant growth swayed gently with the movement. Billie turned to look up at him as he ran his fingers over the portrait’s golden frame.
“Do you have any idea of how we can reverse the curse, or at least…” Billie waved her hands around, searching for words. “Can we prune you? What does that do for it?”
Daud snorted and Billie swore she saw the old man smile briefly. “Trust me, I’ve tried. Hurts like a bloodfly sting. Also, I’ve got a job for you,” he said.
“Who’s the mark?” she asked.
“Not ‘who,’ it’s a ‘what.’ I’ve been doing some research and I’ve found an artifact that could ruin everything,” Daud explained. “It’s called the Twin-bladed Knife. Allegedly it can kill The Outsider, and these bastards have their hands on it. Imagine what could happen.” He gestured widely to the bodies in the room. Billie bit her lip. She couldn’t tell why Daud wanted to take the Knife-- his face wasn’t revealing much. Did he want to kill The Outsider, or prevent that from happening? He could also just be curious, but knowing Daud, Billie doubted that.
Unease nagged at the back of her mind, but if doing this job would prove to Daud she was still loyal to him—even after everything that had happened—she’d do it.
“Alright. I’ll help you find that Knife,” she said at length. Daud dug his fingers into the canvas of The Outsider’s portrait and ripped it from the frame as he blinked back to the floor. The god’s face distorted in bizarre waves with the curve of the limp canvas. Billie avoided looking at it for too long.
“You should head back to the boat, old man. There’s a carriage in the station past the apartments. I’ll join you in a bit—I’ve got some business in here I still need to finish,” Billie said.
Daud rolled his eyes. “Whatever you say,” he snarked, bending down to pick up an Eyeless’s fallen pistol before blinking away up the stairs leading out of the club. Billie grimaced. Daud’s tone likely meant he was still angry with Billie for her betrayal fifteen years ago. Did he blame her for the Brigmore curse as well? She knew it’d been over a decade since they spoke, but it still stung to think about.
She shook her head and unsheathed her knife. If he trusted her with this job in the first place, maybe they could make peace after all. But as Daud had taught her, you can never predict how someone will act once you’ve let them down.