Chapter Text
I ducked to the side, narrowly avoiding the spearhead as it passed through where my neck was moments earlier. I had hoped my opponent would overextend themselves and maybe give me an opening, but no luck. Whoever they were were clearly trained, and they kept their balance as they brought their spear back to a low guard, getting ready to strike again. All I had at my disposal was my short dagger, and getting anywhere close enough to use it without getting hit again would be tricky. As if in response to the thought, the gash on my leg throbbed as I tried to shift my weight off of it.
Luckily, I wasn't the only one in this fight.
Using the small bit of attention that I could spare, I focused inward and wove some magic into a defocusing spell. Casting right in front of someone wouldn’t be very effective, but it would cause a moment of confusion. A moment that Kos, having dispatched his own opponent, used to his advantage, swinging his shortswords in tandem. One struck my opponent’s side, throwing them off balance and giving me a chance to step back without inviting a further attack. The second embedded itself in their neck, dropping them instantly.
A quick glance around told me that all the bandits were dead, unconscious, or, in the case of those fighting Rye, staring at their own hands in wonder. Rye’s magic tended to be discombobulating and most of us didn’t quite understand what was being done, but it was certainly effective and mostly less dangerous than being knocked on the head or killed. At least as long as someone was nearby to make sure no one tried to eat their own hands or fly.
In any case, the danger had passed and it looked like our little crew had made it out with only minor injuries. I leaned over my knees to catch my breath, trying to get my heart rate back down to something normal. Despite the time I've spent with this group, I still found combat exhausting, both physically and mentally. The risk of death didn’t bother me obviously, but I preferred to keep to the shadows, striking only with surprise and stealth. And even then, I preferred to avoid people entirely and get in and out without anyone being the wiser.
I was mostly alone in this way of thinking. Kos and Olem were chatting amiably while they dragged the unconscious bodies into one area and secured their wrists with manacles. Rye sat with her usual quiet smile, keeping an eye on the staggering bandits in front of her while she took out healing potions.
“Okay, my little mushrooms, who’s hurt?”, she called out, brandishing a handful of colored vials.
“I'm fine to get back to town,” replied Kos, closing the last set of manacles.
“Sprained ankle, possibly broken little toe,” answered Olem in their deep voice, grimacing slightly. “Small healing should be good.”
They turned to me, as I finally caught my breath and stood up.
“What about you Mara? I saw the nasty cut that last one gave you.”
This time Kos grimaced. “Sorry about that, Mar. I thought he was down, but I must have hit more on his armor than I thought. I'm glad you were able to hold your own for so long.”
I tried to make my face look less pained, and smiled. “It’s alright. And if it wasn’t for the extra training you insisted on, I wouldn’t have made it at all.”
Kos’s face relaxed and he looked visibly relieved. Despite Rye being our resident healer, Kos was our mother hen and took it upon himself to make sure we were safe. Whenever one of us got more hurt in a fight than he did, he tended to take it personally.
“That’s right, don’t think I didn’t see that dodge! I would have been proud if I had pulled that off myself!”
I knew he was exaggerating, but it still felt nice to hear. Not quite enough to counteract the pain in my leg, but still.
“I agree with Kos,” added Rye. “But I really should take a look at your leg. The bleeding seems to have slowed, but you’ve still lost a fair bit.”
I nodded my agreement and hobbled my way over, met halfway by Olem who helped support me. Kos began going through the bandits’ belongings, sorting out any stolen goods, particularly the brooch we had been tasked to find. The rest would be returned if possible, and any non-stolen property taken by us as loot. After seeing me settled on a fallen log near Rye, Olem guided each of the mystified bandits to sitting positions and slipped manacles onto their wrists. Rye’s spell was beginning to wear off, and some of them had begun to lie down moaning as if hungover.
“Will you accept healing this time, Mara?” Olem asked. “I know you usually decline, but we are close to town and you are by far the most hurt.”
Rye held up a vial. The liquid inside was green, which meant she thought my wound merited more than a mere small healing. I looked down, uncomfortable.
“I'm fine, really. I just need a bandage and I'll deal with it back in town.” I felt my face heat up a little and hoped the others would assume it was from the adrenaline. “Really, it’s okay.”
Rye looked somewhat doubtful, but accepted my answer and put away the potion, instead taking out a small medical kit. She used some clean water to clean out the wound, then began wrapping it in bandage, tying it tightly. Once she was done, I made myself busy further into the bandits’ camp, ostensibly looking for more stolen goods, but really trying to avoid the others. I kept tugging on the torn fabric of my skirt, trying to obscure the bandages until I realized what I was doing and how it only drew more attention to the wound, and stopped. I knew the others found my aversion to healing potions and healing magic to be strange, but for now I just wanted them to forget about it.
Fifteen minutes later, all the goods and equipment were packed up, and the beacon we’d been given had been acknowledged. We waited a little longer for the city guard to show up, picked up our own packs, and started the hike back to the city.
“Three rooms, one single, two doubles.”
As usual we had Kos request our rooms. Besides people’s occasional dislike of goblins or orcs, and my general lack of charisma, Kos was very handsome, very bisexual, and frequently got us discounts on rooms. In any case, Rye and Olem began to argue good naturedly about which one of them would get to keep the loaded dice they had found in the camp that neither of them wanted but both wanted to argue about, and I went to peruse the inn’s dinner options. The inn was popular enough to have something of a changing menu, even if it mostly consisted of variations of stew, and I was pleased to see that venison was the offering tonight.
“One single and… two doubles?” The innkeeper asked after some mental arithmetic on party size and bed numbers.
“Yes, ma’am,” Kos responded, with little explanation but plenty of smile. The innkeeper paused a moment longer before shrugging and giving the nightly rate as well as three keys. Kos walked back to the rest of the group and passed them out.
“Drop our stuff off and head to dinner?” Kos suggested.
Rye nodded her head vigorously and Olem’s stomach audibly growled. I gave a small smile at the familiarity of the situation and nodded as well. We made our way upstairs to our respective rooms. As usual, Kos and Rye would be sharing one double, Olem would be taking the other, using one bed to sleep and one to carefully lay out their pack in order to repack more efficiently the new items (including a hard argued pair of crooked dice), and I would take the single. I generally preferred to have my own room, and tonight I suspected that it would be more important than usual.
Once inside my room, having locked the door, I pressed a hand against the wound on my leg, as well as the cracked rib the others hadn’t noticed. Both were more serious than I had let on, and the lack of bleeding wasn’t necessarily a good sign. I was fairly open with my new companions, but there was still a lot I wasn’t sharing. I dropped my pack by the window, and sat cross-legged on the bed, adjusting my skirt so that it wasn’t pulling on my bandages, and focused inward.
I let out an involuntary gasp.
I knew that I had been hurt in the fight, as well as in various scuffles over the past month, but I hadn’t realized how weak my lifeline had become. Rather than the low glow I expected, or the strong, healthy burn I would prefer, I was met with a flickering ember of a spark, barely even perceivable.
This was bad. This was very bad. I had been lucky, staggeringly lucky, that Kos had taken out that last bandit. Any more damage to my lifeline and I would have been dead, and that would cause all sorts of problems. Best case scenario, my companions would bury me and I would have to wait around for another Angel. But these were good people, and they didn’t understand my aversion to healing, so more likely they would waste a lot of potions and magic on me to no avail, and once night fell…
I shivered. I liked my little group, but I also know that some superstitions run deep. It had been years since I’d faced the Nightwatch and I wasn’t looking for a repeat any time soon. I reached to my left shoulder, even though I knew the mark wasn’t there anymore.
Some scars run deeper.
After a minute, I shook myself out of my own head and took stock of the situation. I needed to go to dinner. Besides being famished from an adrenaline-packed day of hiking, hunting, fighting, and more hiking, the others would find it strange if I didn’t show up at all, and I certainly didn’t need them coming to my room later with a well-intentioned tray of dinner.
But after that, I was going to need to Consume.
“Are you certain you are alright?” Olem looks at me with concern. While not the mother hen Kos is, or the actual healer Rye is, they cared deeply about the group and took pains to make sure we took care of ourselves too, even me as the newest member.
Kos and Rye are looking as well, and between all the sympathetic and concerned looks and the pain in my leg and side, it’s just about overwhelming. Still, I've dealt with worse.
“I'm okay, I promise,” I explain, putting as much confidence into my voice as I can. “And tomorrow I'll be even better.”
I take a large bite of the stew, which is delicious even if I'm aiming more for speed of consumption rather than enjoyment.
“I told you, regular healing doesn’t do much for me. I'll eat a lot now, sleep like the dead, and tomorrow I'll be okay.” I reconsider. “Maybe not amazing, but better. Probably exhausted still, but it’s okay. I'm okay. I promise.”
Another big bite, then, “But the sleep is really important. I'll be heading to bed in fifteen, and probably sleep till noon. Make sure no one tries to wake me.” I add belatedly, “Please”.”
I'm probably overdoing it, because now everyone looks even more concerned. Kos especially looks like he’s considering blaming himself again, making me feel even worse, and Rye has a strange look on her face, one I'm well familiar with. It’s the same look all healers get when you explain that yes, you are very hurt, but no you don’t want to be healed. You’re fine just sleeping it off, and yes, you’ll be exhausted the next day and probably not up for much fighting for a week or so, but yes, this is really what you want. Yes, of course you trust them and of course you don’t hate magic. It just doesn’t work as well on you. No, you can’t explain.
I would look down at my lap, but I really do need to eat and doing so while my chin is down seems like a recipe for mess.
“If you are sure,” Olem says tentatively. “We will save you some breakfast and meet you later when you are up. We will all need to rest and recover from the past week, I am sure.” The others nod quickly, seemingly trying to reassure me that I don’t need to worry about showing weakness and that I can ask for and accept help from them. I want to shout that I do trust them, with my life in fact, such that it is, and that I would love to tell them everything. Instead, I give an unconvincing smile and thumbs up before shoveling more stew into my face and washing it down with ale.
Eventually the others turn to their meals as well and for a few minutes we all sit in silence and eat our food. A few minutes later, Kos points to the basket of rolls on the table and then at Rye, raising an eyebrow. For her part, Rye rolls her eyes at the well-worn joke, and throws her spoon at him. Kos snatches it out of the air, laughing, and begins trying to eat with both spoons at the same time, with predictable results. After a few minutes the group is chatting and laughing and when there are silences while we all eat, they’re the comfortable silences of companionship.
A little bit later, I finish my third bowl of stew and rise from the table to head upstairs. Rye and Olem are seeing who can cheat with the new dice better, while Kos is waggling his eyebrows at the fiddle player, who seems to be playing faster and more complexly in response. Rye may be getting her own room tonight after all. I say my goodbyes and the others wish me well. I yawn, not entirely acting, and shuffle my way out of the tavern and into the connecting inn, and trudge up the stairs to my room.
As soon as the door is shut, I straighten up, fatigue still present but ignored for now. I also throw the latch. I don’t expect anyone to bother me before I'm up tomorrow, but it pays to be careful. In the same vein, after I peel off my mud- and blood-stained dress (the tavern doesn’t have the most exacting dress code and we were too hungry to change first), I let it drop in front of the door, just in case someone wants to look underneath to see if I'm still there. Probably overkill, but then again, maybe not.
Standing in my shift and undershorts, the wounds look more pronounced. I touch my ribs lightly, trying to gauge whether I may have broken more than one, but I don’t have the training to tell. Ultimately, the bigger issue is my lifeline, which, unchanged from earlier, puts me one good punch away from death. As nice as it would be to see Tessa in person again, I still have work to do here and can’t afford the time it would take to come back.
I go through my travel pack, looking for a suitable outfit to go out in. Stealth will be important, both to avoid my companions noticing that I was not, in fact, in bed, as well as anyone who might wish to rob a lone woman at night. The city of Verna isn’t particularly dangerous, but with my lifeline as weak as it was, I’m especially vulnerable.
I also don’t want to come across as a thief myself. I mean, I am one, at least in some circumstances, but I don’t want to advertise it. The city guards might not kill me, but that doesn’t mean I want to spend the night in a cell.
I settle on a grey linen dress, pulling it carefully over my bruised and battered body. The fabric has sections of different shades, better camouflage than pure black, and still able to pose as some kind of fashion. Like virtually all of my clothes, it has a few hidden pockets, and thieves pants, the loose straps and buttons hanging inside that allow the hem to be tied up around the calves, allowing greater movement and less risk of loose cloth getting caught on things. They used to be known as farmer’s pants, being primarily used for those wearing skirts or dresses in the fields, but nowadays most farmers wear pants and the style has been adopted by those moving secretly in the dark. I’m not planning on needing them tonight, but I found it helpful to have them added into my clothes.
To my ensemble I added a nondescript sack, coin pouch, lockpicks (in case tonight proved more complicated than I thought), and a dagger (in case it proved even worse). The picks and dagger were strapped by the tops of my thighs under the dress, hidden to any observers, but easily accessed thanks to clever slits in the dress’s pockets. After stuffing an extra blanket under the bed’s covers and turning off the room’s glow-glass, I was ready to leave.
I had already glimpsed the side of the building when we arrived, and knew there were good handholds. After casting another defocusing spell, this one more effective as I was already hidden in the shadows of the window sill, I slipped out and quickly made my way down to the street level. I took a moment to stop and listen, important habits for someone in my field, and made sure no one had reacted to my unconventional exit. I heard only the uninterrupted sounds of eating and talking and music from the tavern, and silence from the inn, so I began the quiet walk to my first destination.
Walking at night while trying to avoid being noticed, but also trying to avoid looking like you’re trying to avoid being noticed, was a difficult skill that I had spent years honing. In this case, it wasn’t too hard, as I was dressed within the range of Normal Citizen, and I wasn’t actually doing or carrying anything illegal (technically the lockpicks were, but mine were designed to look like hat pins, so I at least had plausible deniability).
I made my way through the moderately busy streets. Late evening had fallen, and while most shops were closed, some were still open, along with almost all taverns, inns, brothels, and the like. I walked around aimlessly for a bit, reacquainting myself with the city, as I hadn’t been here in several years, as well as making sure I wasn’t being followed. Satisfied with both, I made my way to a local chemist I knew from my last trip here. I liked his shop, both for the variety of goods, and the fact that he slept little and kept late hours. He also had a system for purchase with little face-to-face interaction, which tonight seemed like a dream. I was not in the mood to talk to people.
I passed a slip with my order and payment through the back window, and a few minutes later received in turn sixteen glass vials. In the dim light of the street, I checked the colors, then packed them away in my sack. The four larger clear ones went on the bottom, and the twelve smaller red ones went on top. I packed a few rags that I had brought around them as best I could, but I wouldn’t be traveling far.
I tried to walk purposefully but not too quickly, someone with somewhere to go but not rushed, clearly carrying a sack, but not with anything of import, certainly not worth targeting or even noticing. I was still concentrating on my defocusing, so between that, my nondescript clothes, and unexciting demeanor, hopefully no one would even remember seeing me. Even so, I made sure to surreptitiously check my surroundings, keeping an eye out for anyone who might cause problems.
Pretty soon the worn but functional dirt streets of the merchant district gave way to the nicer cobblestones of the entertainment one. Nicer taverns, restaurants, playhouses, and other venues lined the road, their light spilling out into the night. While the merchant area of the city was mostly closed after dark, here there were plenty of people out on the street. Some were alone, some in groups; some drunk, some sober. Here and there, street entertainers performed for small crowds, and there were the mixed sounds of singing, laughing, yelling, and conversation everywhere.
I let it wash over me, getting a feel for the crowd, and made my way towards the section of the district where brothels could be found. Here, the sounds weren’t as loud, nor as varied. Various workers stood by their brothels, flirting with passersby and occasionally throwing out good-natured jibes at competing houses. I ignore both the crowd and the workers, moving towards one particular house.
Ruby House was as I remembered it, though I didn’t recognize the greeter out front. It had been several years, so this wasn’t particularly surprising, but I still wished it had been someone who knew me, and I wouldn’t have to convince a stranger to let me speak to the host. I released the unfocusing and approached.
“Hey there, cutie. Enjoying your time in the big city?”
The greeter gave a big smile with a hint of smolder in it, despite the relatively mundane words. Had I been more than a half step from death, I may have blushed, something that happens to me when faced with any kind of flirting aimed at me. Tessa always laughs at it, whether or not she’s the one doing the flirting, saying that my face gets red so easily you’d think I'd never even been kissed before. I don’t dislike flirting per se, at least when it’s with Tessa, but I won’t deny that I have trouble maintaining my cool when faced with it. But making Tessa laugh is always worth it, so I can’t mind too much.
In this case however, I was too worried, tired, and sore to feel much of anything else. If I hadn’t spent almost all my money on potions, I would consider getting a massage, something my muscles desperately needed. Maybe tomorrow after we got paid.
“Is Hestri in? I need to speak with her.” I'd prefer to be a little more subtle, but I was feeling rushed now. The mild flirting may have also been getting to me more than I thought, because I could feel a slight flush coming to my face. The greeter clearly noticed, smiling more and shifting her stance to better show off her body. This only made my face redder, making me feel more rushed. I also missed Tessa, who would have been laughing the rest of the night from this. She has the most beautiful laugh.
“Straight to business then?” The greeter gave a pout, leaning forward more than was strictly necessary for me to hear. “You don’t want to talk for a bit? We could go inside and have a drink if you’d like.”
At this point my ribs were hurting enough that I was getting frustrated even standing. The walking had distracted me, but now that I was still, I began to notice every little ache and pain from the day. I didn’t want to snap at the woman, who was just doing her job, and more politely than she might have been, probably recognizing me as someone who couldn’t handle much more than light flirting. I started to try to explain that I just really wanted to speak to Hestri, when another figure came to the entryway.
“Mara, is that you?” asked a tall, broad shouldered man wearing only a pair of tight pants. I breathed a sigh of relief.
“Hi Brin,” I said. “Is Hestri in? I really need to speak to her.”
“Sure thing, honey. Why don’t you get a drink and I'll run and grab her for you?”
He turned to the greeter and added, “Mai, this is my friend Mara from way back. She has a… particular arrangement with our esteemed host.” This was accompanied by a somewhat unnecessary eyebrow waggle.
Mai gave an understanding nod and turned back to me. “Ah, I understand. Well I can’t say I'm not disappointed, but I'm sure you’re in for a treat. Enjoy your evening, and if you’re ever in the mood for something less… particular… why not come back and buy me a drink?” She gave another lean accompanied by a wink and I felt my face go red all over again. I hurried inside as she gave a soft chuckle, though not in a mean-spirited way.
I went to the bar to wait for Hestri, though I didn’t buy anything. As much as I could use a large and strong drink right now, I didn’t want to spend the money, and I would need to be fully focused on what was to come. Brin was right about my having an arrangement with Hestri, though wrong about its nature, as were most of the workers here. That was fine by me, of course. The fewer people who knew of my nature the better, and a sexual liaison was a perfect cover.
I sat by the bar, shaking my head at the bartender’s offer of a menu, leg bouncing against the floor. When Hestri came down the stairs, I all but jumped out of my seat, earning another chuckle, this time from the harpist playing in the corner. I didn’t care, and hurried over.
“I hear you were looking for me, Mara. Everything all right?” Hestri spoke softly as usual, making the conversation seem merely intimate rather than secretive or sensual. She led me to a pair of armchairs by the wall and we sat.
“It’s good to see you Hestri. It’s been a few years now I suppose.”
Hestri caught on how I ignored her question, and a slight frown grew on her face. She leaned a little closer and said, “What’s wrong, Mara? From the look of you, you lost a fight to the death earlier today.”
She thought for a moment before sitting back and taking my whole appearance in, then looked more closely at the sack I was holding in my arms like a security blanket. Her face turned serious, and she said “Oh, Light, how close are you?”
I looked down at the sack, unable to meet her eyes. “Close. Very close. Honestly, I was concerned about getting here alright. I'd be grateful for whatever you can spare.” I nodded towards the sack and its clinking contents. “This should be more than enough for tonight, but I won’t be able to pay in coin until tomorrow.”
Hestri put her hand gently on my knee, which I hadn’t realized was bouncing again. But unlike others who have noticed my habit, she didn’t do it in order to still me, but just to acknowledge my feelings and show that she was here.
She gave a small smile, then gestured to the bartender something in shorthand before turning back to me to say, “Well lucky for you, we happen to have a new employee at our little house who has been looking for opportunities to acclimate themselves to customers’ more unusual requests. I'll see if they’re interested, but I'd wager they will be.” A small laugh. “It’s not like there are many opportunities to make money doing so little. I may have to insist they work on their reading while they do.”
I nodded my head, not quite trusting myself to speak. After a few minutes of comfortable silence, someone walked over to us. They had the pink skin of a tiefling, but small enough horns to probably be half- or quarter-blood. They gave a small smile and nod to me before turning to Hestri.
“Hello, Madam Hestri. You wanted to see me?”
Hestri gestured to me and said, “This is Mara, a longtime customer of ours. She’s looking for something not on our usual menu, and I thought you might be interested.”
The person’s tail began to lash slightly and they looked to me excitedly. “Yes, that would be perfect! My name is Korda. I'm new to the craft and only graduated recently. I want to become more comfortable, so I would appreciate this as well.”
I gave a small nod but didn’t say anything. Hestri saw that I wanted to say something and turned to Korda and said, “Why don’t you go prepare Red Three and we’ll be in shortly? Standard setup will be fine, and you can take these as well,” the last comment given with a gesture to the sack.
Korda took the sack, gave a small curtsy to Hestri, and hurried off, tail still swishing. Once they were out of earshot, I asked Hestri, “Do they know about… me? About anything?” I stopped myself short, going red again, this time from embarrassment. “I know you know what you’re doing, and I don’t mean to doubt you, I just… I get worried.”
Hestri smiled and patted my arm. “It’s admirable that you care so much for others and their comfort. It speaks well of you. However you don’t have to worry. Bloodwork is something Korda has specifically asked to be trained in, and this is very similar to what we would be starting with anyway. And we’ll explain once we go inside as well. You have no need to worry.”
I appreciated that, though I didn’t mention that a large part of my worry was for my own safety. Even trained courtesans sometimes react instinctively, and a hard slap might be enough to kill me right now. Still, I trusted Hestri. She ran a good house and if she said it was okay, I was inclined to believe her.
I drooped in my seat a little, a little of the tension leaving my shoulders. Hestri noticed and said, “I also thought, since this is essentially part of Korda’s training, we could throw in a complimentary massage as well. Korda might be new, but her muscle work impressed even me.”
A small moan left my mouth before I could stop it, but I had difficulty even being embarrassed about it. Attention from a professional masseuse sounded like actual bliss right now.
“I swear to the gods Tess and I will have you do our wedding.”
Hestri gave a soft laugh and said, “I've told you before that I haven’t renewed my priestess vows in years.”
“And I told you that neither of us care. It’s not like we have a different wedding ceremony to use. Sure as hell not using Justice and spending four hours reading and signing contracts.”
“That’s fair. So how does it work with you two while you’re here anyway? I imagine it’s hard for all of you Angels, being away from home for so long.”
Immediately the tension came back to my body, and I shot a panicked look at the nearby patrons to see if they had reacted at all. It’s good that Korda had taken the vials, since I'm sure I would have broken some with the sudden clenching in my arms.
Hestri looked confused and alarmed for a moment, before realization dawned on her face. She gave me an apologetic look. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to frighten you. I should have mentioned that we’ve added privacy spells to all of the chairs in this section. Anyone outside of the circle can’t hear anything happening inside, and our faces are blurred.”
I looked down and saw that there is indeed a circle of copper about six feet across surrounding our two chairs. I tried to calm my heartbeat and relax my muscles a bit.
Hestri looked at me sympathetically. “Maybe we should do the massage first. You look like a coiled spring ready to snap right now.”
Difficult as it was, I shook my head and said, “I'd rather do it after. It feels too strange to leave the…” even with the spell, I still feel uncomfortable talking about Angel work in public, “other stuff until afterwards. I need to get it done soon.”
“I understand. Korda is probably done by now if you’d like to join me.”
I followed her through the main room, down the stairs. If memory served, this was one of two basement levels. While all rooms had privacy spells (other than the ones that specifically did not, per some customers’ wishes), some people preferred to be underground as well. I couldn’t really fault them as I felt the same way, even if my motivations were slightly different.
Hestri stopped by a door marked with a rose and a number three. She knocked, then opened the door. Given the soundproofing, calling for someone to enter wasn’t feasible, so a lock would simply keep out anyone who wasn’t wanted. Inside, Korda stood beside a table arranged with my vials, folded cloths, and oils, as well as a massage table and leaning chair. The table was most likely for me, whereas the leaning chair, similar to a massage table, but designed to allow the user to lean their body and face forward and relax without lying down entirely, was for them. I saw that they had evidently had the same idea as Hestri, as they had a book within reach of the chair. I also saw an odd but familiar looking knife on the table, but I tried not to look at it.
Hestri closes the door and turns the lock, before turning to Korda.
“I am familiar with Mara’s routine, as well as her discomfort with discussing it, so I will explain what she is looking for so you can understand, then she can clarify or correct anything and you can ask any questions. Is this alright?”
Korda says yes and looks attentively at Hestri. Hestri continues.
“The routine is essentially standard bloodwork in its most basic sense. You will sit, and Mara will perform shallow cuts. This will be done with pre- and post-work, so there will not be any long term damage. There aren’t any restraints or restrictions in place, so standard consent can apply. Is this alright?”
Korda and I both say yes, and Hestri continues.
“Mara has been certified in this kind of bloodwork, and has performed it in the past. The planned duration is four hours, but that time may be increased with consultation from me or one of the other Table members. After completion, you will give Mara a massage. I will cover it personally, so you may go for as long as you both wish. Is this alright?”
Again, we both respond in the affirmative.
She asks if we have any questions or if I need to correct anything. After we both respond no, she wishes us a good evening and leaves, telling me to give her love to Tessa when I next see her. Korda relocks the door and turns to me. I begin to get nervous that they think I intend for this to be more intimate than I do, but this fear leaves as they say, “Correct me if I'm wrong, but you’re not looking for anything sexual are you? I'm sorry if I'm misreading, but you give the impression of someone who’s looking for something else entirely.”
I breathe out a sigh of relief. “Yes, exactly, thank you. I… don’t want to get into it, but I am not looking for anything else. Any moans from the massage should be attributed to my severely beaten body, though my goal is to pass out immediately and wake up in one that doesn’t hurt so much.”
Korda grins and says, “I knew it. I was being polite before, but I am very good at reading people. I would even go as far as to say that there’s someone special already in your life?” They end the sentence as a question, but their face says that they’re stating a fact. I decide that I like them.
This time when I feel warm, it’s from happy feelings rather than blushing. I smile and look down, giving answer enough. Korda laughs and begins opening the vials, then removing their top to expose a mostly bare chest and back, while telling me about their own partner. He just came to the city and they’ve been excited about moving in together. The talk is mundane and peaceful, and I feel myself relax again. Korda sits on the chair and leans down, picking up their book, and I roll up my sleeves and move over to the table.
I pour one vial of clear liquid into a shallow bowl, and three red ones into another, then dip a towel in each. I pause Korda in their description of the book they’re reading, a treatise on accents, and say, “I usually work on the shoulder muscle, unless you prefer somewhere else.”
Korda shrugs and says, “It’s all the same to me. I'd prefer not to get the pants bloody, but beyond that have fun.” They begin to read the book aloud, switching accents through the different passages.
I take a deep breath and let it out slowly. Korda’s words help relax me, as I don’t need to pay attention. I take the towel from the clear bowl, and carefully wipe it on Korda’s back. I pause for a second, then take the knife and make a careful slice over the now numbed area. The knife is the brothel’s and is designed to have a sharp blade that quickly flares out, preventing all but the shallowest of cuts. A thin line of blood appears, and I take the red bowl towel and wipe it across. Diluted as it is and applied topically, the healing potion can’t do much, but is plenty to heal such a shallow cut. I look to Korda to get a reaction, but they don’t seem to have even noticed. I tap their shoulder and they stop and turn their head to look at me. They ask, “Everything alright? Is the talking bothering you?”
I shake my head and say, “No, it’s helping actually. I just wanted to make sure the cut was okay.”
Korda says, “Oh, it was fine, no worries. As far as training goes, even for bloodwork this is pretty tame. Hence why I still have homework.” They gesture with the book.
I nod. “Okay, I'm glad. I tend to zone out and go quiet while doing this, so I won’t be very responsive.”
“‘Clients first’ is our motto, and that means both literally and figuratively,” Korda says with a wink. “You do what you need to do.” I nod and they turn back to their book and begin speaking with a lilting accent that reminds me of spring.
Now that I know the cuts won’t be a problem, I can really start. I mentally prepare myself, and reach for the clear cloth. I wipe it down the same spot, renumbing it.
Then I take hold of the knife and prepare to cut.
I breathe out, then slice down through the skin.
As I do, I can feel the tiny spark of life leave the body. Not enough to kill of course, but some part of it. Rather than let it dissipate as I did for the first cut, I breathe in. Despite not actually breathing it into my lungs, breathing in helps me visualize bring the spark into myself, especially in cases like this where the work is mechanical and not in the heat of battle.
I feel the spark enter my body and be absorbed into my own lifeline. Still a flickering spark, it now burns ever so slightly steadier, a small piece of life added to it, strengthening it.
I breathe out, and wipe the red cloth over the wound, erasing it.
One step stronger. One step further from death.
I repeat the steps, one wipe with the numbing cloth, one cut, Consuming, one wipe with the healing cloth. So it goes for hours, the only break in the monotony the occasional emptying of a new vial, or confirming with Korda that they were okay to continue. They continue their accent work, a pleasant background noise, but I mostly stay in my own head. Consuming isn’t difficult for someone with my experience, and now that my lifeline is closer to where I would normally want to be, I can relax a bit.
Today had been a close call. Normally I'm very on top of my lifeline, making sure to keep it within a healthy range, especially around others. That the fight had distracted me enough to miss that I was one step from death concerned me. Maybe I should look into whether there was a butcher nearby to build up some more, especially if my group would be taking on greater risks. Something to consider at least.
I slid the knife down for the god-only-knew-which hundredth time, taking in a tiny sip of life, then wiped away evidence that anything had occurred. Korda had fallen asleep an hour earlier, after asking me to wake her if Hestri came around. I put the supplies back on the table next to the now empty vials and stretched my arms over my head, wincing at the new soreness. Consuming like this was exhausting, both physically, with the repetitive motions, and emotionally. Despite the given consent and the fact that even now, Korda’s skin looked as unmarred as it did in the beginning, cutting someone so deliberately over and over took a toll on me. I was even more grateful for the massage, and resolved to try to stay awake to enjoy it for at least a few minutes.
I gave Korda’s shoulder a small shake.
“Hi. Sorry, I'm done now.” Even though they had agreed and I was literally paying them, I still felt the need to apologize. Once again, I was too tired to be embarrassed or even care.
Korda leaned back and gave their own stretch, wincing a little. Leaning chairs are made to be comfortable for long periods of use, but that didn’t mean that using one for four hours wouldn’t make your muscles a bit stiff.
“Thanks for waking me. I love accent work, but talking for so long in a different voice is still tiring. I appreciated the nap.” They stood up, stretched a little more, then put their shirt back on, after checking that there was no blood on their back.
They began stretching and pulling on their arms and fingers, warming them up. They gestured to the table with their chin. “You can lie down and get comfortable while I flex up my fingers. Dress or undress to however you wish, but I'd recommend at least getting rid of the dress. I can tell it's a good, thick material and you look like you need a harder massage for those knots.”
I nodded and slipped off the dress, carefully sliding my knife and lockpicks off with them while keeping them hidden. I also removed my boots, then lay down on the table. I fought for a moment to keep my eyes open before giving up. I could hear Korda finishing their warm-ups and pouring some of the oil on their hands, then rubbing them together to heat it up.
They said, “I'm going to use my usual nonsexual massage, and you can let me know if there’s anything you want different. Though I will say that I'm very good at this, and when I don’t have to work out how to do it sexily, this massage is even more excellent. Is this alright?”
I said yes, and they began rubbing between my shoulder blades, digging in just the right amount and eliciting a moan. Knowing that this was something Korda excelled in, and that it didn’t take an expert to see how sore I was, I didn’t feel embarrassed, and simply let myself melt into the table as all the knots and soreness in my aching body were systematically found and destroyed.
Korda asked a few questions that I responded to with mumbled answers, and eventually they simply spoke what sounded like Draconic in a quiet voice, adding a nice susurrus to the atmosphere. I managed to enjoy the massage for a few more minutes before I let myself be pulled under the blanket of sleep.
“Wake up, Mara…”
This time it was Korda who was gently shaking me. I blinked a few times, trying to wake up completely.
They continued, “As much as I enjoy your company, it’s probably best for you to get a full night’s rest in an actual bed.” They chuckled. “Normally I would flirt and ask if you wanted company, but I don’t think you’d be up to as much as a goodnight kiss in your state.”
I sat up on the table and rubbed at my eyes blearily. I felt about a thousand times better, both the damage and pain from the day removed by the last several hours’ work. It took two tries to get my dress on the right way, and halfway through I considered just leaving it backwards and going home, but Korda insisted on helping me.
“Hestri says you’ve an account with us, so you’re all set to head out. It was lovely to meet you.”
I nodded, and bounced up on my toes a few times, trying to wake up a bit more for the trip back to the inn. Korda walked me to the entrance and wished me a good night, as well as to tell my friends about the excellent service I received. I agreed wholeheartedly to the latter, as my body felt better than it had in weeks. I hadn’t realized how much tension I had been carrying, and having it gone felt like nothing else. I said goodbye to them, as well as Brin, who was now acting as greeter in the front. He gave a cheerful wave, then turned back to the well dressed man he had been flirting with, feeling the material of his coat.
I started down the street. It was a little after dawn now, and I had gotten a little over an hour of sleep. Not enough in ideal circumstances, and my past few days were anything but ideal. So despite my tired legs, I hurried to the section of the city where our inn was. I needed to get back early enough to climb back up the wall to my window and sneak in before anyone would notice me. The thought of climbing up to the window almost made me cry, and I briefly considered just using the front door, but questions about why I had gone to bed early claiming exhaustion, only to return at dawn despite seemingly never having left, would not help anything. Only the thought of getting into a real bed and catching at least four or five hours of precious sleep kept me hurrying along. Most likely it was this hurrying that led me to initially miss the three figures following me.
I noticed them a little after leaving the entertainment district, while walking through the much quieter, and much darker, areas of the city on my way to the inn, but I couldn’t be sure if they had followed me from the brothel, or if they simply saw a convenient target. I hoped for the latter, as the former did not bode well for me or my secret. Simple muggers I could probably handle, but if they were Nightwatch…
I quickly shook my head to focus. By now adrenaline had burned away any fatigue that remained, and the night’s activities meant that I had less to worry about in terms of being hurt, so I was doing better than I had been, even if I still might not be in the best fighting shape.
I surreptitiously felt for the dagger by my side, silently thanking the gods I had thought to bring it. Despite what yesterday’s fight might have implied, I wasn’t too bad in combat. It’s just that my style of fighting, taught as part of my Angel training in burglary and disguise, was based on getting the jump on people. Three opponents should be within my abilities, as long as I succeeded in making the conditions a bit more favorable to me.
Keeping that in mind, I slowed down slightly and started veering to a side street, hoping that my pursuers would match my speed, not wanting to be seen too close to me before attacking. While this area was much less busy, the street I was now heading towards would be completely empty, as well as hidden from any passersby. Waiting a little longer to attack me would be worth the higher chance of success and escape from justice.
As I suspected, the three figures slowed down a little too, even going as far as to stop by to pretend to read a store’s sign. I continued towards the side street, more of an alley really, and added a slight wobble to my gait. Making my opponents think I was drunk would make them underestimate me, and that could only be good for me. As soon as I turned the corner into the street, however, I threw up an defocusing and silently ran further in. When I reached what I was looking for, a deep doorway with an awning above it, I paused and listened. I heard no running. My attackers hadn’t seen me change speed, meaning they didn’t know I was onto them, and I now had a bigger head start. This vastly improved my odds.
At this point I could even just leave. There were enough handholds on these walls that I could probably scale up to the roof before anyone saw me, and head back to the inn before my pursuers realized I was gone. They might even waste time thinking that I went into one of these buildings. But I couldn’t take the chance that they were Nightwatch. If there were Hunters in this city who had somehow found me, I needed to know it now.
I quickly pulled up the hem of my dress and used the straps and buttons to fold it into something that stayed closer to my legs. I tucked the ends into my socks, rolled down my sleeves despite the warm weather, and pulled my hood over my head. Pausing to pick up a few small pebbles from the ground, I jumped up to grab hold of the awning, pulling my body up until I could clamber over. I silently thanked Korda and their probably not literally magical hands, as even considering doing that an hour ago would have been laughable. Once on the awning, I arranged my clothes to blend more seamlessly into the shadows, pulled out my knife but kept it covered, and settled in to wait.
I didn’t have to wait long. A couple of minutes later, three figures turned into the alley. They were having a conversation amongst themselves but stopped as soon as they were out of sight of the main street. They began walking more carefully, doing an admirable job of keeping their footsteps quiet. One slipped on a pair of knuckle dusters while the other two pulled out simple but sharp-looking knives. A little tension left at the sight. Knives were nothing to underestimate, but it was clear neither was the cruelly curved blade of a Hunter. These were weapons to kill, not torment. Most likely these men, and seeing them closer, I could see that they were indeed men, simply meant to rob and possibly murder me. Not ideal, but a far better alternative.
The men, big and mean looking, but without the quiet menace of a professional killer, were most likely simple muggers. They continued forward, and started to check to the sides more, looking at piles on the ground. Most likely they had realized that based on my speed, I shouldn’t be far enough down the alley that I would be out of sight, and that it was possible I had been onto them after all.
Now that I had strong reason to believe that they weren’t after me specifically, I considered waiting until they left and simply making my way back to the inn. But I could see their frustration rising. Not only at the loss of money, but at being tricked. They began moving forward more aggressively, kicking piles of refuse on the ground to see if anyone might be underneath. They hadn’t begun looking up for hiding places - people tend not to, which is what makes them such great hiding places - but they might start soon. I'd rather risk showing myself unnecessarily and getting in an attack before they realized what was happening than have them discover me and lose my advantage. As they got closer, I carefully took out a pebble and flicked it further down the alley. All three heads snapped up, and dangerous smiles grew on their faces. The man with the knuckles moved further ahead, waving the other two to follow. As they crept forward, they didn’t even glance up, focused as they were on what they were sure was an easy, hiding target.
I waited until all three had passed, then dropped down. I immediately struck one of the knife-wielding men with my own dagger, plunging it straight into his neck. I might not like fighting much, but if I had to, I wasn’t going to play around. The man started to clutch at his neck before dropping to the ground. The man in front hadn’t noticed, but unfortunately the other one in back did. He moved to swipe at me with his knife. I had anticipated something like this, and had already started ducking. His knife caught a few loose hairs, but I was able to launch myself forward, holding his knife arm out to the side while plunging my own straight into his stomach.
The two of us crashed into the side of the alley, finally alerting the man in front. The man I fought punched my nose, but I took the opportunity to keep his knife to the side while I stabbed his throat. Then I threw myself to the side, hitting the ground hard, but rolling to a crouched position.
My instincts were good, as the final man was standing over his companion, having just grabbed at where I was a moment ago. If he had looked angry before, he was absolutely livid now. I had hoped that rage would make him careless, but it seemed that seeing how quickly his friends had died had made him appropriately cautious. He didn’t bother threatening me, and I didn’t bother trying to convince him to let me go. We could both tell that there was no way we would both be leaving the alley alive.
I wiped away some of the blood from my nose, moving further away from the wall so as not to be cornered. In theory I had an advantage, my knife having slightly better range than his knuckles, but his stance told me he had experience in street brawls. Probably more than his companions and certainly more than me. If I couldn’t find a way to escape, I would be in serious trouble.
I gave a quick glance out of the corner of my eye. I was closer to the end of the alley, but the men’s search for me had left the path strewn with things that could trip me up. The man saw me look and must have guessed the direction of my thoughts because he crouched, poised to jump forward the moment I moved. It wasn’t a great chance but I thought it would be the best I would get.
Without pausing to think and possibly give away my plan, I threw the knife at the man’s face. I had never practiced throwing knives, and the skill is harder than people think. Luckily, I wasn’t relying on it as an attack, but rather just as a distraction. As the man flinched away from the knife, I turned and bolted towards the entry to the alley. My buckled dress made it easier to move than normal, but I still had to give the obstacles on the ground a wider berth than usual. A moment later I heard a curse and then much heavier footfalls, the sound getting closer and closer.
A dozen feet from freedom, something slams into my back. I can’t do more than bring my hands up before I crash into the ground. I try to roll away, but a heavy weight on my back makes it impossible. Something grabs my hair, pulling my head back before violently smashing it into the ground.
Blood pours from my nose, now surely broken, and I taste it in my mouth as well. I want to cry out, but the weight on my back is pushing all the air from my lungs. One of my hands is pinned beneath me, but I swing the other behind me wildly. I briefly glance off the man’s cheek, drawing a little blood with my nail, before his other hand grabs it by the wrist and twists it painfully behind me. Despite the weight on my back, I manage a small gasp.
The man shifts his weight in order to get a better grip on his knuckle dusters, and I know I'm going to die. I can barely breathe and my vision is starting to go blurry. I'm out of options.
Not entirely out of options.
I can almost hear the words in my head. They’re not wrong, even if I don’t want to think about it. I haven’t had a strong enough lifeline in a while, but thanks to Korda, I could Drain if I wanted to. I try to escape again, throwing my body the little that I could, trying to unseat my attacker. He grunts, easily remaining where he is, pushing my bleeding face harder into the ground. I’m getting even more lightheaded. If I don’t do something now, I probably won’t get another chance. I center myself, and focus on the man’s hand grabbing my wrist, skin-on-skin contact.
I push on my lifeline, expanding its awareness slightly. Right away, I feel the man’s, and even if I can’t tell how strong it is, I bind the two together. Draining can be done by amounts, or by lifeline. By amount is safer, as you can always stop before you run out, but it’s also slower, and I’m desperately short on time. Inexperienced as I am, I’ll only be Draining from him maybe a third of what I myself lose, and unlike Consuming, I’ll get nothing back. Given that I don’t know how strong the man’s lifeline was, it could very well be suicide. But I'm dying anyway.
I drop the bottom out of my lifeline.
Immediately I can feel my lifeforce growing weaker and weaker. The man must be really focused on killing me, as he doesn’t seem to notice his own life weakening, albeit at a slower rate than mine. I can barely breathe as it is, but I still hold my breath as I feel my life slip away, hoping and praying that the man will run out first.
Halfway through my own lifeline, I sense the man hesitate. Being Drained feels different to different people, but never good. I can’t go any faster - or slower for that matter, this ending when one of us runs out and not a moment sooner - but I pray that he’s close to being done.
Suddenly, there’s even more weight on my back. For a second I panic and think that he’s going to crush my throat and kill me before I can finish, before I realize that the weight isn’t the aggressive force it was before, and that my lifeline is no longer weakening. I struggle for a moment before pulling myself out from underneath the man’s corpse. Dead he might be, but he’s still got at least a hundred pounds on me.
Finally I manage to escape, and crawl over to the alley wall. I put my back to it and sit, breathing deeply. All my adrenaline is gone, and its absence has left my body sore and utterly exhausted.
I look down at myself. I'm covered in blood, way more than can be explained by my broken nose, and I have scrapes and bruises on my arms and legs, as well as tears in the dress. It’s early enough that not many people are out, but I'm still going to have a hard time getting back to the inn without drawing looks and, most likely, city guard attention. While what I did would probably be considered self defense, I don’t want to take the time or risk explaining it would entail. The thought of it saps the little energy I have left and I lie down.
I lay there for some amount of time, staring at the last man who tried to kill me. He’ll probably be meeting my mother soon, an experience he most likely won’t enjoy. The thought brings a small smile to my face, and I manage to get the energy to crawl over to where my knife fell. I wipe it on the man’s shirt, then return it to its sheath. Energy spent, I lie there by the dead body, wondering what I can do.
“Mara?”
The voice seems to cut straight through my brain fog. My head snaps up to the mouth of the alley, where I see Kos, Rye, and Olem standing there with looks ranging from concern to horror.
“Mara?”, Kos asks again, tremor in his voice.
No use delaying the inevitable. I sit up.
“Hey, everyone.”
Kos visibly sags in relief, and the others react similarly.
“Mara, oh thank the gods!” Kos rushes over, wrapping me in a surprisingly gentle hug, heedless of the blood and dirt he’s getting on his clean clothes. “Mara, you’re okay! Are you okay? Of course you’re not okay, you’re clearly not, but are you hurt? Is there anything we can do?”
The familiar rambling is soothing, and I slowly start to feel like a person again. Olem comes over and gently extracts Kos’s arms so that they can get a better look at my injuries. After giving them a nod at their unspoken question, they begin gently prodding at my body, sussing out what might be hurt. Meanwhile, Rye quickly goes through the alley, taking in the whole scene, before moving the bodies to the side and coming back to the entrance. She gives me a quick hug, then goes to the mouth of the alley and casually leans against the wall, taking an unobtrusive watch for anyone who might come by.
Olem finishes their examination, and informs me that I have a broken nose, sprained but not broken wrist, and more bruises than I can count. I managed to avoid any broken ribs, and of course my injuries from earlier in the day were healed thanks to Korda.
Kos is nearly crying now, explaining that they had left early to get some breakfast when they saw the bodies. They came to investigate, and when they saw my prone, blood covered body, they assumed the worst. The fact that I only have relatively minor injuries is a miracle to him. While not really accurate, it feels good to be worried about, and even better to not have to support my own weight for a bit.
We sat for a little longer before Rye informed us that regular folk were starting to walk about, and we should head out before awkward questions happened. By this point, I had been able to heal most of my injuries with some of my lifeline and could walk without too much difficulty, and I only had to lean on Olem’s staff a little for balance. I was happy to see that while I had lost about two thirds of what I got at Ruby House, I still had a good portion left. Not as much as I would like, but enough not to be worried.
We made it back to the inn without incident. Kos had lent me a cloak, so I looked a little dirty but not like I went on a murder spree. The four of us walked up the stairs to our rooms.
As we approached the door, I began to feel anxious. I hadn’t thought a lot about it before, being overwhelmed with relief that I wasn’t going to die and that I would have help getting back, but I had some uncomfortable questions in my future. Mostly revolving around why I had told them I was going to go to bed early and sleep until noon, only to be found in an alley at dawn, covered in blood and surrounded by three dead bodies. Dead bodies I seem to have dealt with with little injury to myself, despite struggling with a single attacker a day earlier. Maybe even why I was wearing thieves pants, though at least I had thought to undo the ties before leaving the alley.
I braced myself before turning to the others. “Listen, about all that…”
Kos looked at me without a hint of suspicion or doubt in his eyes. In fact, looking at everyone, no one looked anything other than kind and maybe concerned at my general state. Kos spoke.
“Look, if you want to tell us, we’re happy to listen. But you certainly don’t need to, especially now. We trust you.”
I pushed forward. “That’s great, but I can’t expect you to ignore all that. You deserve an explanation.”
Rye said, “And we’ll listen if you have one. But we’re not asking for one. We believe in you, and trust that you have reasons for doing what you do, and for keeping any secrets you have.”
Olem added, “We accept you, Mara. We accept you with any flaws and with however much trust you feel comfortable giving us. You do not have to pay for it with explanations. It is free.”
Kos put his hand on my shoulder. “We love you, Mara. We’re happy you’re safe and that’s all we care about. And whatever did happen, you definitely need sleep.”
My face felt tight and I couldn’t seem to get any words out. I looked down to my feet and felt my vision go blurry with tears. Finally I managed to get out a whispered, “Thank you.”
Kos nodded, and took his hand away. I wiped my eyes, and unlocked the door with my key. I stood in the doorway and looked at the others. I couldn’t find words but they seemed to understand what I meant. Rye said she would let the cook know I'd want some cold food sent up later, and Olem gave me some herbs I could mix into water to help with the pain. Thankfully, unlike healing potions, painkillers did work on me. I took the herbs and thanked everyone again, before closing the door.
Five minutes later, I collapsed into bed, in a clean shift and with my pain a dull ache. I had just enough time to pull on a blanket before I sank into the mattress and a deep sleep.
“Hello, miss.”
The voice is soft and warm, but I can hear a hint of playfulness in it. My mouth stretches into a wide smile, though I keep my eyes closed a moment longer.
The voice continues, “Oh miss, you must be frightened. Dying can certainly be a traumatic experience, but I’m here to help you make this transition as comfortable and peaceful as possible.”
I open my eyes now, sitting up on a couch and looking at the young woman speaking to me. She has her usual body, tan skin with a sprinkling of light freckles, dark curly hair winding down a little past her shoulders. She wears the loose robes common among the Emissaries. Typically these are light shades of blue or yellow, sometimes other pastels, however she has apparently chosen a deep, wine-like crimson. Perhaps because she knows how much I like her in it.
Not losing my lazy smile, I say, “Well, I can certainly say that I wasn’t expecting to die. The last thing I remember was falling asleep peacefully in bed.” I pretend to think for a minute. “Though I suppose I had been injured fairly seriously earlier.”
Now she feigns a shocked, and sympathetic look. “Oh, you poor darling! Who could have done such a thing to someone so lovely? You must let me help you.” She hurries over to kneel by my side, and begins to unlace my boots. I give a small chuckle at this, and she gives a wry grin before leaning forward to start on my other boot, giving me a better look at her cleavage. I certainly don’t mind, and unlike with the greeter at Ruby House, I feel comfortable with her, which made the view that much more enjoyable. Which isn’t to say that I don’t blush anyway, something else she notices and gives her own quiet laugh to. I let her gently turn me to the side, and she sits behind me on the couch and moves my hair over my shoulder to get better access to my back. I give a small shiver.
“Oh, my poor sweet darling. This all must be so frightening.” She begins to rub my shoulders, and while she might not have the training of Korda, her knowledge and love of me more than make up for it. And while this body doesn’t have any of the bruises or exhaustion of my physical one, I still find myself giving a deep sigh and melting into her touch. She continues to expertly knead the muscles in my shoulders and upper arms, and says, “I will do my best to reassure you that you are safe here with me. Think of me as your brave savior, holding your trembling body to my breast, and protecting you from the dangers of the world.”
I snort, and turn towards her and quirk an eyebrow. She pretends not to notice and just pushes my shoulder so I face away again. I chuckle.
“Tell me, my darling, are you feeling any better now? Are you beginning to come to terms with what has happened?”
I answer, “To be honest, I’m still having trouble believing that I’m dead. This place feels so real though.”
She moves her wonderful hands to slightly lower on my neck, slipping her fingers under the collar of my dress. I feel the back of my neck heat up and know that it must be turning red.
She laughs, but quickly turns it into a cough. She leans forward and I can feel some of her weight pressing into my back, her mouth inches from my ear. Softly, she asks, “Is there anything I can do to help?”
I shiver again, so hard that I’m practically vibrating, and I know my face must be beet-red, but I calm down a little and, matching her low voice, say “What might help is simply seeing a kind face. You’ve been so nice to me, and I would like to be able to thank you while looking into your eyes.”
She responds with all the seriousness of a royal decree. “Of course, my lady. Anything I can do to help, I am happy to provide.”
I turn around and find her face inches from mine. Her eyes are brown and deep and beautiful, her cheeks slightly flushed, her lips full and parted just slightly. She takes my hands in hers, and I feel that softness of her fingers rub against the rougher calluses of mine.
I lean forward slightly, closing half the distance between us. “Thank you so much for your help. I don’t know what I would have thought if you hadn’t been here to greet me. Now that I’m dead.”
She brings our clasped hands to rest on her thigh and brings her lips even closer, close enough that I can feel the breath from her words. “I am grateful that I could help. You are so beautiful, and I would hate to think of you sitting here all alone, no one to comfort you.”
My eyes drift down to her lips and I feel her hands briefly tighten on mine. I lift a hand to rest on her cheek.
I look back at her eyes as she looks into mine, and I see only love.
The remaining space between us dissolves as our lips come together. Her lips are soft, and warm, and I sigh once again. Her hands have found my waist and mine are cupping her face. The moment is precious and wonderful.
More than anywhere else in the world, in this embrace, with this woman, I am home.
We pull apart, and I’m pleased to note that I’m not the only flushed one. I look at my beloved’s face and simply bathe in the joy of being together again.
“So,” I say. “Is this how you’re greeting all new arrivals nowadays?”
Tessa snorts. “Oh, hush. I haven’t had a chance to see you in almost a week. I moved around a few schedules so I was on call now.” She leans against the back of the couch and pulls me into her arms. I nestle in and hold her hands while we sit. As always, it feels as if we fit together perfectly, and I can’t imagine being any more comfortable. I bring her hands to my lips and kiss each of her fingers.
“I’ve missed you too, love.” I say.
She hums softly and gives me a light squeeze. We sit in comfortable silence for a few more minutes. Tessa knows that I like to relax and simply be held by her after being injured in the Physical realm, and she would have seen how badly I had been hurt.
After a bit, I shift my body so that I’m facing her more. I pull her head down for another slow kiss, and then relax my head against her chest. “How long do you think we have?”
She gives a soft sigh at the kiss, and then answers. “This was my last for the evening. And though I seem to have been inexplicably more delayed than one would expect from a seasoned Angel simply sleeping through the night,” she gives me a meaningful look. I smile and snuggle closer. “I’ll be done afterwards. I should be able to stay with you until you go back.”
“That sounds absolutely wonderful. Hestri sends her love by the way.”
We stay as we are, talking softly about nothing. Eventually I tell her about the fight with the bandits, and needing to visit Ruby House secretly, then thinking my Angel status might have been found out by what turned out to be simple robbers. Hestri listens quietly, letting me talk through my anxieties, running her fingers through my hair. When I finish, she gives me a tight hug, and says “It sounds like this new group of yours is pretty welcoming. How are you feeling about them?”
I sit for a moment in her arms, safe and comfortable and happy, and think about Kos and Rye and Olem, the care and companionship they’ve shown me, as well as the understanding. I look up at Tessa and smile.
“They’re my friends.”