~Upstairs~
The flat was dark when she entered it, shutting the door behind her, lit only by the candles that were perched on the window sill.
"Seb?" Harlequin called, softly. "I'm home. And I know you're in here somewhere."
The sound of glass breaking in the kitchen, followed by muffled swearing was the answer she received. So she went to the kitchen to check it out. Sebastian Moran sat on the floor, one leg drawn to his chest, clutching an almost empty bottle of liquor. Glass shards littered the floor around him, and beside him were three similar bottles, all waiting to be drunk. Blood dripped off his fingers, onto the ground, and Harlequin realized that there were cuts all over both his arms. Instantly, she put her punishment for him aside, and bit her lip.
"You've forgotten Jim's rule, haven't you?" she asked, using a tone she reserved for times when it was absolutely necessary.
"I haven't," Sebastian said, and she noticed there was a slur to his voice. A slight slur, his eyes bloodshot. He'd probably been sitting here for a long time, since she'd been gone since morning, and now the sun was dipping lower in the sky. "Haven't forgotten anything he's told me…"
"Neither have I." Crouching directly in front of him, she poked his forehead. "Now, I don't care if you are fucking drunk or even remotely aware of what I am saying. What I want to know is what fucking soil you've put in the girl's body."
"Girl? What girl?"
She slapped him, as hard as she could, and his head rocketed back, slamming into the sink. "What the fuck was that for?!" he yelled, but she ignored him.
"Red Riding Hood, you bastard."
Sebastian rubbed his jaw, then nodded, slowly. "Oh. That soil. It was from that Rider bloke's house."
She relaxed slightly, before stiffening. The police would go to Jonathan's house, he'd tell them the truth, and it would be over. She had to stop them. She couldn't let them win the game.
But first, she had to punish the sniper.
He drained the bottle of liquor he was holding, and lobbed it at the wall. A loud crash, and the glass rained down. "You're just like your father, Quin, with all your ways and secrets. Did I ever tell you I'd lay down my fucking life to protect him?"
Before he could so much as blink, her face was inches from his, her knife pressed to his throat. "One more fucking word, Moran, and I'll slit your throat," she spat. Glaring resentfully at her, he worked up a mouthful of saliva and spat in her face. That was it. Harlequin's face darkened. Her mood changed, all sympathy for the sniper was gone, and in its place was anger. Fury. Rage. The emotion came out of nowhere, like a flower blooming in the middle of winter.
"Open your mouth."
"Fuck you too."
"I said," she pressed the knife harder, and watched droplets of blood form, run down his skin. "Open your mouth."
Sebastian did as she told him, and she smiled as she plunged the tip of the knife into his tongue. He howled, she withdrew the knife, and observed the way blood immediately flooded the sniper's mouth. His hand found one of the unopened bottles beside him, his hand tightened around it, and Harlequin didn't have any time to move before the bottle hit her.
Alcohol soaked her, the smell intoxicating her, and there was blood running down the side of her face. Numbly, she reached a hand up to her forehead, and felt the stickiness of her blood. In front of her, the man was panting, spitting out mouthfuls of blood. The kitchen looked like a warzone. "If you disobey me one more time, I'll rip your tongue out of your throat and serve it to you. I don't give a shit if Jim would've wanted you alive."
His reply was to stick out his tongue and blow. Blood splattered her face, warm and faintly smelling of metal. She took her knife, reached out and grabbed one of the bottles, opening it and taking a long swig. When she was done, the girl slashed a huge gash on his arm. The sniper yelped, but stifled it quickly. More blood was pouring down her face, his arm. Extending an arm he snatched the bottle from her, but she slapped him again, and the bottle flew from his grip, crashing to the floor and breaking, spilling liquor everywhere.
Scrambling to her feet, she gripped his hands and helped Sebastian up. "Okay, that's enough drinking for today. Need to be sober for tomorrow, still have things to do, don't we?"
"Yeah, Jim used to act all fucking nice, too, after he beat the shit out of me for failing in a mission or something. You really are a Moriarty," the sniper replied, crimson liquid dribbling down the side of his mouth, his words slurred because of his drunkenness and because of his tongue.
"Shut the fuck up." She led him to the bathroom, being careful not to tread on the glass shards that were strewn around, and sat him on the lid of the toilet. Turning on the tap, she looked in the mirror behind her.
That is a fucking big gash…
Giving the sniper a glare, she proceeded to get out the First-Aid kit from the cabinet beside the mirror and began to clean his cuts. When she was done, she bandaged them, then made him stick out his tongue.
"It'll heal," Harlequin commented, shrugging. "Now go and clean up the mess you've made. And if you fall asleep or throw up doing it, I swear tomorrow you'll wake up in a plane to the Amazon."
Sebastian grunted, and got up, leaving her alone. With a tired sigh, she let her legs give way and slumped onto the floor.
~Later~
By the time they'd got the smell of blood and alcohol out of the kitchen, cleaned up everything, gotten the smell of out their clothes, Harlequin could barely move her legs.
She stood by the window, looking out onto the city's bright lights, thinking of what she'd do tomorrow. Confront Jonathan perhaps. Sebastian lounged on the sofa, eyes open, staring, tracking every move she made. His sniper rifle was propped up beside him. Harlequin supposed it was his way of saying sorry.
"Are you guarding me?" she asked, quietly.
"Protecting." He shrugged.
"Why? I can protect myself. You're merely here because my father owned you, and now that he'd dead, I own you."
"I failed to protect your goddamn father. Can't let you go chasing after the army doctor and end up blowing yourself to pieces."
"I'm not like Jim."
"Yes, you are," Sebastian insisted. "He was a right little fucker, and so are you."
"Hmph."
She passed him without another word, heading for her room. He stared at her with those bloodshot eyes. If she was stupid, if she was sentimental, she'd have thought those were tears in his eyes, glistening in the dying candlelight.
~The next morning~
She'd slipped out of the flat without Sebastian noticing, and took a cab to Jonathan Rider's house, in a neighborhood not too far away. Now she stood at the front gate, gazing at it. It was a white house, with a couple of beanbags on the front porch, and a wind chime hanging from the roof. The lawn was neatly trimmed, and she could hear the faint strains of laughter from inside.
Opening the gate without so much as a creak, Harlequin went up the stairs, and knocked on the front door. She hoped it would be one of the children who answered. She'd gauge their weaknesses, and use it against their father when the time came.
The door opened. "Who are you?" A small girl peered out, all dark eyes and equally dark hair. Rose Rider, if she wasn't mistaken: China had a tanner complexion than her paler twin.
"Hello. I'm a friend of your father's. Could you call him?" she requested, smiling in such an open, friendly way, but Rose frowned.
"You're too young to be my dad's friend."
"No one is too young to be friends." Her expression darkened, and she let her voice sink into a low growl. "Now go and get your father."
The child's eyes widened, scared, and she scampered off, hopefully to call Jonathan instead of Cameron. So she stood out there, hands by her side, waiting patiently.
"It's you." Jonathan Rider stepped outside, shutting the door behind him. His tone held awe, disgust, the odd splash of fear. "What do you want?"
"That shirt looks good on you," she said, slipping on her smile as easy as that. "I do like my men with some degree of style. Give me a well-dressed man over a shirtless one any day."
"What do you want?" he repeated, dark eyes flashing, arms folded.
"My bodyguard screwed up. Instead of planting a clue on a body, he dug up your lawn and out it there. If the police come here, the game will be up. You'll tell them the truth, I'll be sent to prison."
"Good for you." He smirked.
"That also means," she continued, pretending that he'd never said a word. "That I will send my bodyguard to hunt you down and kill your family in front of your eyes." Now that wiped that stupid little smirk clean off the actor's face. The color drained out of his skin. She could see a thousand scenarios running through his mind.
"I'll do it. Whatever you say. Just, please, don't hurt my family," Jonathan pleaded.
I have him in the palm of my hand.
Harlequin thought about it for a moment. She could always double-cross him and send Sebastian after the Riders either way. But that would be plain rude.
"I'm going to arrange for your family to be taken somewhere for, how do I say this… safekeeping, while you stay here and put on the whole Moriarty façade, got it? I'll give you an earpiece, and you'll repeat exactly what the person on the other end of the line says. You'll follow whatever instruction he gives you."
"And if I mess up?"
"If you so much as suggest you aren't Moriarty, within two hours, I'll make you wish you were dead."
"And where are you going to keep my family?"
"Don't worry, they'll be safe, as long as you do your job."
"But I haven't told them about this," Jonathan's voice dropped so that she had to lean forward to catch his words.
"I will tell them myself," she reassured him, patting his arm. "Relax. At least you know they'll be alive for a while."
Then, she added, "Your house will need a makeover though. But I'll handle that."
"When will this happen?"
"You'll know." This time, the girl's grin almost split her face in half. "Oh, you'll know alright…"
