Chapter 70: Snoops

 

It wasn’t stupidity that led Isa into one of the biggest mistakes of her life, it was curiosity. Everything had been fine, business as usual, when the screams started. She and her client stopped at the first scream, and then broke apart and came to the door at the sounds of violence. Looking at each other, her client nodded and they opened the door and peeked out.

 

“Stay in your rooms if you know what’s good for you!” A rough looking man in leather armor shouted. Neither Isa nor her client needed to be told twice. They slammed the door shut and locked it.

 

“Right,” said her client, eyeing the bed. “Shall we continue?”

 

They did not continue. Within a few minutes Isa had cleaned up and checked the main room again. Samantha was there, looking entirely lost and crying. Not nearly as bad as Lucy, who sat on the ground with her legs hugged to her chest sobbing, repeating that it was her fault. Isa left her client behind to go to her. He’d see himself out without any issues, and he wasn’t half as important as Lucy.

 

“Hey, look at me. Look at me!” Isa commanded. Lucy turned her tearstained gaze to her. She sniffed, but snot flowed as freely as the tears. Ignoring that gross display, Isa pulled Lucy into a hug the younger woman very much needed. Samantha would do their laundry later and get the mucus out. “You’re okay,” she said. And that’s all she said for a couple of minutes. “You’re okay. They’re not going to hurt you.”

 

The others handled the attack in their own unique ways. The new guard for the night fought his way to his feet and then lurched out the door, yelling for someone to get the Watch. That someone ended up being Jenna, while Samantha walked around in circles and Kelli drank. It had happened. One of Razia’s many past mistakes came back to haunt her, and the rest of them were left picking up the pieces. Of course it happened on the one night their fearless leader wasn’t there to stop it.

 

The next several minutes were a surreal blur, a waking dream where Isa felt entirely too sober to deal with things. The Watch came in and questioned them all, together and separately. Isa went along with it, giving what answers she had in short, simple sentences so the mouth breather would just leave her with her thoughts. They were racing, but it all boiled down to the same thing: she was right, Quentin let them all down again.

 

And just like that, he showed up, panting and out of breath and utterly clueless as to what happened. Isa nearly went off on him there. It would’ve been so easy, but this wasn’t the time. No one around her would appreciate her gloating about being right about the two of them. Hell, even Isa herself wasn’t satisfied with being right. She found herself flat out disappointed, and angry that they’d given her hope just to dash it against the rocks.

 

Isa watched Quentin with her arms folded over her chest, glaring daggers at him. The last time this had happened, he broke a man entirely and swore it would never happen again. What would happen this time? And the next? He passed her by without a word as he went around to the courtyard. Everyone watched him go, and the whispers started. Hope, that he’d fix things. Hope that Razia wasn’t lost. Isa couldn’t bring herself to hope.

 

Not even when Quentin came back out the way he came clad in black armor with a sword over his shoulder. Isa’s heart skipped a beat. He didn’t seem to notice her at all as he walked on by. Two Watchmen joined him and they took off into the night, leaving the rest of them to…What? Continue to stand around, worrying? Answer the same questions the coppers had been asking them all night? This was as bad as it had ever gotten, and it simultaneously seemed hopeless and like their boss would just walk right out and fix things before the night was over. He certainly didn’t hesitate.

 

“What are you doing?” Lucy asked as Isa passed her.

 

“Going back inside. Standing around worrying isn’t going to bring her back.” Isa looked over her shoulder. “Consider packing your things, just in case things go sour. If they get bad, they’re going to get bad fast and you won’t want to be around here.”

 

Lynne looked at her with disgust. “Just like that, you’re saying to pack up and run away?”

 

“Oh, I’m sorry,” Isa said with a false smile, “you want to stick around for the next group of hardasses who come in after one of us? This keeps happening and I don’t see it stopping in the future.”

 

“Typical,” Jenna said, shaking her head. “Bossman’s scary. If anyone can get her back, he can.” Beside her, Kelli nodded. As petty as it was, it was her who set Isa off.

 

“Why do you all have such faith in this man?” she yelled. “Seriously. Things are good for a bit, and then something like this happens. You really want to risk your life on a roll of the dice over who’s going to get hurt next?”

 

“Yes,” Lucy said, standing up and glaring at her. “I’m happy here. Even with the risk.” It wasn’t much, but the teen didn’t look away from Isa’s glower.

 

“Fine. Do what you want. All of you.” She stormed past them into the house. Rather than going for her room, Isa went to the garden. It was peaceful out there, the sky dark with the new moon and a soft glow coming up from the lycanpoppies. It wasn’t quiet though, as the other neighbors were out and about and speaking loud enough to carry over her way. Annoyed, Isa unlocked the gate and stepped out.

 

The guards were posted at every entrance in and out of the neighborhood. Their neighbors, the bunch of rich, whiny, selfish bastards they were, were out in great numbers and looked her way. Isa made a rude gesture and leaned against the fence. Maybe one of them would satisfy her itch for a good fight, someone to yell at and make her feel better as they felt worse. The only one who came close was a nearby guard, a bald, heavyset man who asked, “Hey, is everything going to be okay?”

 

“How should I know?” Isa scoffed. The guard sighed and shrugged, looking away from her. How could things be okay after an attack like this? The past would always catch up to them. All of them knew a bit about Razia’s specters, but none about Quentin’s. Even if Razia managed to pay off every last debt she incurred with her antics, how many people did their resident killer piss off in his career? They knew so little about him, and he never talked about himself.

 

She looked over to his house and froze. The gate was open. It wouldn’t have been a problem if it was closed as she had a key, but it was a reminder. Quentin was out taking care of this, supposedly. All in all, he seemed calm and even focused when he left, not freaking out like most of them. Who was this bastard? Isa pushed away from her house and found herself walking over to Quentin’s.

 

She slipped past the gate and into his garden, her stomach doing odd flips. She’d been in this house a handful of times before. Quentin welcomed them all in and made it clear that they could bother him if they needed something. Well, now Isa needed something and he wasn’t there, but that just made it easier. She went into his house slowly, peeking around as if expecting something to jump out at her in the darkness. Isa took a lamp off a hook and turned the light up.

 

As well lit as the Moonlit Garden was, Quentin’s home was a tomb in comparison. All the rooms around the atrium were in the same layout, but they felt completely different in the dark. Dark gateways towards a hidden past no one was allowed to see. Isa remembered the first time she’d been in there. Quentin had welcomed them all in, with one caveat. There were two rooms no one was allowed to go into. Thats’ where she would find her answers.

 

There was a part of her, a not inconsiderable voice in the back of her head telling her this was wrong and to turn back. As far as she was concerned, it was too late for that. With both of them gone and no telling if they were coming back, this was the time to snoop around and get her answers. She’d figure out what was going on with Quentin, and maybe prove that he wasn’t the man everyone kept saying he was. It would mean uprooting again, but it would also mean her instincts weren’t wrong.

 

His bedroom was the first place Isa checked. The door creaked open, loud enough to make her feel like someone would hear, even knowing it was just her. She stepped inside, holding the lantern up. There was a large, comfortable looking bed, a desk, a small toilet off in a corner room and a chest with a heavy lock on it. The room was much like the rest of Quentin’s house, devoid of personality and past. Big, comfortable, even wealthy but like a facsimile of a life lived, empty on the inside.

 

She retreated and went for the other room. There was a padlock on this door that hadn’t been there when she and the others first came by with Lucy. No one had opened it then, as no one was comfortable enough to stick their noses where it didn’t belong or to rouse Quentin’s wrath. Luckily for her, the padlock was open and the door ajar. Isa pulled the door open and stepped inside.

 

The lantern’s flickering light danced on all the evidence she could ever hope to find. The weapons on the wall didn’t surprise her, it made sense for a killer to have a personal arsenal. No, what shocked her was the tapestry on the wall, showing the Colosseum and a skull faced figure standing over a pile of bodies. The figure had a spear and his opponent was bleeding from the side while tiny people in the stands cheered. Her shaking made the light flicker violently on the scene.

 

Sets of armor, all black and lined up next to the tapestry. Posters on the floor, still showing that same skull faced figure that everyone in Orchrisus knew well. Isa swallowed hard. This couldn’t mean what she thought it meant. There was no way. The light glinted off one weapon in particular. Isa leaned close, holding the lantern up to a glittering black mace. The only sign of color aside from the gold flecks in black was the word “Justice” written in deep, dark red.

 

“Quentin is the Butcher?” Well, it seemed like her instincts weren’t wrong after all.

 

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Kelli stuck around longer than most of them. Partly to keep any possible suspicions from falling on her, and partially because she was curious about what would happen. Eventually they all went inside and ignored the blood on the floor and sat down on their couches, waiting for the other shoe to drop. Kelli made herself useful by grabbing bottles of wine and bringing them back out. She opened one and took a long drink before handing it over to Jenna. Jenna half-smiled at her and did the same before passing it on to Lynne. No one spoke for a while. No one wanted to be the one to bring up how painful waiting was, or to be the one to break the silence and have it all fall on them.

 

In the end, it was Samantha who spoke up, taking a deep breath and saying, “You know, I think everything’s going to be fine. Mr. Q will get her, they’ll come back home, and then we’ll laugh about this tomorrow.”

 

Kelli wanted to laugh about it now, but that might be giving the game away a bit. The mood was so low that no one was buoyed or relieved by Samantha’s declaration. They passed the bottle around until it was empty, and then opened the next. After about twenty minutes of sitting and waiting, Isa came in from the garden with a thousand yard stare. Wordlessly, Kelli handed her the bottle.

 

“You okay, Isa?” Lucy asked, cocking her head to the side. Her cheeks were red and her head wobbled on her shoulders. She was a lightweight and had calmed down the most. That might’ve been because she wasn’t too far off from just passing out from the wine and stress.

 

Isa shook her head. “It’s…nothing. Don’t worry about it.” Isa didn’t take a drink so much as a long, extended guzzle until she had to come back up for air. Making up for lost time.

 

“I’m pretty shaken up too,” Lynne said. If she was drunk, she didn’t act it. She mostly looked depressed and resigned to bad news. “But it won’t be so bad tomorrow.”

 

“Unless we lose Razia, Quentin fucks off again, and we’re back on the streets. Or worse.” For a change, no one challenged Isa or told her to lay off. Everyone was feeling it. Almost everyone.

 

It was almost funny. The news everyone else dreaded would’ve made Kelli jump for joy. As it was, she was mostly feeling impatient. Her ring heated up and while it wasn’t painful, it was a summons she physically couldn’t ignore. It would sting until she arrived, or worse if Piro decided she was doing it on purpose and burned her through it. She didn’t know what all he could do, and his threats had been vague enough that she didn’t want to risk it.

 

Footsteps came from the entrance. All of them looked up. Looking absolutely tired and just finished with life was Razia. Before she could cross the room and join them all of them were on her feet and rushing her, Samantha in particular pulling her into a hug that threatened to suffocate the islander. The rest of them poured in around her, all trying to talk over each other to make sure she was okay. All of them except Kelli, who hung back, the ring slowly burning her finger and reminding her she wasn’t going to be done after tonight.

 

“Hey, hey, hey,” Razia shushed everyone else until the Garden was silent. “I’m okay. Quentin’s okay. We both got a little banged up, but he found me and killed the men responsible. We’re not in trouble with the law, and everything’s going to be okay. We’re just really, really tired.”

 

“So that’s it?” Isa said. “You’re back, hello, goodnight?”

 

Razia shrugged, too weary to fight back. “Quentin lost a friend tonight. He needs me and frankly, I need him too. You should all get some rest. We’ll clean things up and talk tomorrow.”

 

Kelli saw her opening. “What if people come back for you, and they find us? I’m not sure I feel safe staying here tonight.”

 

The weight of all their eyes bore down on her. She kept a straight face, not caring if they liked or disliked her. This should’ve been over by now, and maybe Piro would let her off with just what he paid. It might be worth it to just not have to deal with this shit anymore.

 

Razia shrugged. “Then stay elsewhere. You’re a big girl, you can make your own decisions. For the next twelve hours it’s not my problem.” She took the bottle from Isa and took a drink herself.

 

“Fine. See you tomorrow,” Kelli said, praying it was a lie. She caught Jenna’s eyes, and the woman looked disappointed to see her go. Surprisingly, she didn’t say anything and Kelli was free to just walk out and away from the situation. No doubt they’d be celebrating being rid of the loudmouthed bitch. Well, the joke was on them. As soon as she was out the front door she did a short ‘I’m-getting-away-with-it’ dance. It wouldn’t have been a big deal if there wasn’t a Watchman stationed nearby.

 

“Hi,” Kelli said, raising her hand and giving a half hearted wave. The middle aged Watchman gave her the nod. She slinked off, keeping her cool until she turned the corner and was finally alone. It was hard not to run, but Kelli power walked her way east, and then south. The Warlords had to use one route because it wasn’t safe for them to be on the lower east side. She had no such restrictions.

 

The path there was long, slow, but completely uneventful. Even the trek west once she was across the bridge was mostly just boring. She stuck to well lit streets and walked fast enough that no one who wanted to stop her could do much more than see her pass them by. This time, when she arrived at the tavern the Warlords called home, she was expected and brought right in. They led her to the same backroom behind the bar, where Christophe and Piro sat in the same places. Two dejected Warlords sat off to the side.

 

“So, seems like things didn’t go as planned,” Piro said, laughing. Christophe was not amused. He motioned for her to sit and she obeyed.

 

“I tried to warn the team,” said Kelli, eyes darting between them both. “When I found out that they had backup security, I twisted that ring back and forth like a dozen times to signal that it wasn’t safe.”

 

“We know,” said Christophe. “That was well done. We’re not blaming you for anything. Yet.”

 

“We have the story from these two, the only survivors of tonight’s shitshow,” said Piro. “Everything from the moment they grabbed Razia to when they ran with their tails tucked between their legs, afraid of the big bad moonkissed.” The two Warlords cringed, not looking up. Oh, she did not envy those two.

 

“Wait, are you trying to tell me that  Quentin killed everyone except for those two!?” Kelli’s jaw dropped. There was no way that was possible. He spent all of his time drinking and lounging around a ridiculously plush chair. Sure he was big and probably dangerous, but he was supposed to be retired!

 

Christophe scowled. “Either dead or otherwise dealt with. These two sad sacks were cowardly enough to not fight but wise enough to come right home. Not sure if I’m pissed at them or grateful.”

 

“It really does even out, doesn’t it?” Piro said, nodding. “Then again…” He looked over at the two, who froze. Piro extended his hand, fingers twitching. His other hand shot out and joined the second, rolling in circles along the wrist. Light flared to life in his right palm, sparking up into a flame. Kelli leaned away from him as each roll of the wrist built up the fire until it was crackling violently, spitting more sparks into the air..

 

“Oh gods,” one of the Warlords croaked, dropping to his knees. The other shielded his face with his arms, waiting for the inevitable.

 

Piro closed his left hand and the fire died out. “Naw, you two are good to go. Enjoy some drinks, get a girl. You did well in reporting back. We’re not going to punish you for being the only survivors. Make a habit of it and we’ll be having a different conversation. Well? Go!”

 

They got up and headed towards the door fast. Piro let out an uninhibited laugh that came dangerously close to being a childish giggle. He pointed after them and slapped Christophe on the arm. The bigger man was smiling in spite of himself and rolling his eyes. “As funny as that is, it’s terrible for discipline. You keep joking and one of these days they’ll joke when you’re serious. And then you’ll have to fry them.”

 

“Oh, but that’ll keep the rest of them in line and keep them guessing. They get to love and respect you, they need to fear me.” Piro leaned back in his chair, looking pretty happy with himself.

 

Kelli cleared her throat.

 

“Yeah?” Christophe said, eyes narrowing at her. “You got information to add, fucking say it. Don’t need an invitation to continue.”

 

She bit back an impatient reply. No, these two seemed to get off on fucking with people and trapping them in unwinnable situations. The only way to win was not to play. “I waited until most of the others were in their rooms and the only man in the room was distracted. I twisted the ring once, and about a minute later your men came in. One died fighting the two security guys, but they took Lucy hostage and Razia went with them.

 

“Then I stood around trying not to make any sounds or look guilty while everyone else was freaking out. I think they think I was in shock, so I’m pretty sure my cover is fine. Because you’re not going to let me go, are you?”

 

“Are you kidding?” said Piro. “Tonight was botched so badly we basically have two options. We can either try diplomacy, or we can try assassination. Guess which one you’d be a part of.”

 

Oh gods, she was in too deep. Kelli breathed in and out as calmly as she could. She was under no illusions that she seemed okay or unflapped. They knew she was scared and wanted out, they just didn’t care. “I’m not sure I can kill somebody,” she said. “Particularly not Quentin. If he killed four of your best, how am I going to have a hope in hell of pulling it off?”

 

From the inner pocket of his bright red coat, Piro produced another ring. This one was a deep, dark purple in a claw setting. The center of the oval gem was a black line, like a slit. He pushed it across the table. “This gem is alchemically made. You said the man drinks like a fish. Drop this into his wine and watch him go from white to blue.”

 

Christophe cleared his throat. “But don’t do it just yet,” he said, giving a pointed look to Piro. “We’re trying diplomacy first. We’ll spend some time talking to Cicero, kissing his ass and apologizing and try to get him to hand her over first. If Piro is capable of humbling himself some, we might be able to just solve this with a lot of money. If that doesn’t work out, then you poison him.”

 

“And if that fails?” Kelli asked. “If I get caught?”

 

“Then I suppose you’ll be dead,” said Piro, shrugging. “Best you don’t get caught then. But we understand how difficult this assignment is becoming. Stay a little longer and see it through and we’ll double the pay. When it’s over.”

 

“If that fails, we’ll be going to war,” Christophe said with a nasty smile. “At that point, dealing with a second rate Savant will be the least of our worries and you will be completely free to run for your life, praying neither they nor us find you.”

 

“Gee,” said Kelli. “Thanks.”

 

Christophe’s smile grew. “And if they catch you, do whatever you can to make them kill you. Because if you’re still alive, we’ll assume you told them everything. Understand?”

 

Yes, Kelli understood. She was either soon to be very rich, or very dead.

 

End of Part 6: Tales From The Moonlit Garden