Chapter 10
We need money. Like, really need it. It's been over a year, and we're still staying at Gamlen's place, if you call it a place. Mother is at her wit's end, and quite frankly, I am too.
What I need is a proper job. As great as my job at the gym is, it just doesn't pay enough. Sure, I earn enough to get by, but only just, and I have an entire family to support. I'm not thinking of quitting, Maker no! I'm way too addicted to the Man with the White Tattoos to ever consider quitting. I just need to find another source of income. A much greater source. And where do you go when you need a much greater source of income?
You go to Varric, of course.
Which is why I now find myself in Varric's over-the-top, ultra-expensive, fit-for-a-movies star suite on Monday morning.
"Your text message got me all excited, Varric. What's up?" My feet are crossed on the marble table as I munch on some incredibly sweet strawberries.
"So, know how you were all adamant about earning some real, hard money ever since you came here, and I told you I'd help you out whenever the opportunity arose?"
"Yes…"
"Well, the opportunity has finally arisen, my friend! Turns out that my brother Bartrand is on the lookout for a partner to run his bakery with."
"You mean Bartrand's Bakery in Hightown?"
"That's the one!" he pops a strawberry into his mouth. "Apparently, he needs a partner to invest in the business. Been complaining that he doesn't have the time or resources to do it himself anymore. Business getting expensive and what not."
"How much does he need?"
"5000 sovereigns."
I nearly choke on a strawberry.
"Five- five thousand! Maker's breath, Varric! If I had that kind of money, I wouldn't be looking for another job now, would I?"
"Hawke, Hawke," he shakes his head and leans forward on the table. "You need to think big, my friend. I've got an acquaintance who is willing to pay you thrice the amount you make at the gym per month in return for training her men."
"Oh? And who is this?"
"Her name is Athenril. She's… a smuggler of sorts. Doesn't dabble in lives, though, so no slavery or killings or whatnot. She just deals in things the dwarven Carta are interested in: expensive fabrics, aged wines, casks of caviar, that sort of stuff."
"And she needs me because…?"
"Because her men are being run over by the Coterie. They're a merciless band that would stop at nothing to eliminate any competition in Kirkwall. So, she just wants her men versed in the martial arts to ensure 'business efficiency'. Namely, to be able to 'physically' handle the Coterie should the need arise."
"The Coterie?" That rings bells. "The group that Captain Aveline suspects murdered Bethany?"
"The very one. So, apart from a profit motive, you have a personal incentive to make sure the Coterie get their asses kicked. Maybe even by you personally."
My heart suddenly picks up pace. This is my chance. My chance for revenge. My chance to cut those low-lives' throats just as they cut Bethany's.
I look up at Varric with fiery resolve in my eyes.
"When do I start?"
"This chicken tastes so good!" I'm stuffing my face at the little round table in the kitchen with the rest of my family. "Are you sure you cooked this, Gamlen?"
"What do you think?" Carver asks with a smirk. Gamlen rubs his neck and suddenly becomes very interested in the food on his plate, his gaze averting everyone else's.
I pause and pretend to deliberate.
"Nahhh, way too good" I say, laughing and reaching for another drumstick. I don't usually eat dinner, especially not a heavy one, but after being a strict vegan for nearly a year, the taste of chicken kind of makes me go a little crazy. Okay… maybe more than just a little. Almost as crazy as Fenris' voice makes me go, except chicken doesn't make my heart race and my cheeks flush. Hmmm… yeah, I think the comparison to Fenris' voice is just wrong. But you get the gist: I really like chicken.
"Don't swallow so quickly, Marian!" Mother scolds me from across the table. "You'll get stomach cramps!"
"After losing her mind and going vegan for an entire year, what else would you expect her to do?" Carver says. For once, I cannot disagree with him.
In the midst of my face-stuffing, I hear my phone ring in the bedroom. I wipe my hands off on a handkerchief and quickly rush to see who it is.
My heart jolts.
Fenris.
I hesitate for a brief moment before answering it. This is the second time he has ever called me. He usually texts, which is easier, since I seem to have a difficulty with answering his phone calls. I get way more nervous than I should. I mean, it's just a freaking phone call, for Andraste's sake!
"Hello?" Again, my calm, steady voice successfully veils the jitters I feel inside.
"Hawke?" As always, his voice sends shivers down my spine.
"Hi, Fenris!"
"Hi. I… I hope this isn't a bad time…"
He sounds anxious.
"Not at all." I sit on the bed. "What's up?"
"I… I was wondering whether you could… maybe meet me somewhere in Hightown? I really need to see you."
My heart falls out of my chest.
"Of course. When do I meet you?" I don't know how I do it, but my voice is so damn calm right now!
"As soon as possible if you can, Hawke."
"I'll be there in twenty minutes max."
He's silent for a while.
"Thank you, Hawke. I… Thank you. Meet me near the Chantry."
"Will do. See you soon."
"See you."
He hangs up.
Okay, am I supposed to be thrilled or worried about this? He has never called to meet up on a night other than on a weekend, and he has never requested meeting up in Hightown. Plus, he just didn't sound right. His voice had a very tense and anxious tone to it, and I don't like that one bit.
I wash my hands and brush my teeth, give Wonka the leftovers on my plate, excuse myself from the rest of the family and head off, almost running, to my car. I start it and drive straight to Hightown.
On the way, I try my best not to think negative thoughts, which is really what I'm best at, this dwelling on the negative business. But his voice keeps replaying in my head, and the obvious anxiety in it really puts me on edge. I've never heard him sound anxious before.
I drive around the corner and park my car right next to the Chantry. My eyes scan the area, looking for him. The streets are pretty much empty apart from a few groups of people huddled in corners and talking. I spot him right next to the Chanter's board.
I pull the keys out of the ignition and step out of the car, quickly striding towards him. It's a public holiday today, so I didn't get to see him at the gym. Come to think of it, the last time I saw him or even spoke to him was two nights ago. When we first… kissed. I am very much aware of that fact as I reach him, leaning against the board in a way so sexy that it should be illegal, and I feel the butterflies flutter around in my stomach.
He looks up at me through a curtain of sleek, white hair and flashes me his signature half-smile, but what worries me is that it doesn't reach his eyes, which are ridden with anxiety.
"Hey," I say. "I came as fast as I could. Is everything alright?"
He looks at my face for a moment, warmth diminishing a bit of the anxiety from his eyes.
"Thank you for coming," he says, his voice soft and full of gratitude. "Yeah… I mean, no- I mean," he sighs. "Can we go somewhere else? Someplace we can sit and talk? Alone?" He adds that final word with a sweeping glance at our surroundings. Almost as though he feels we're being watched.
His hands are buried in the pockets of his black pea coat. His neck is concealed with a black scarf wrapped loosely around it, and he's dressed in his signature black jeans and Oxfords.
Classy, elegant, handsome and downright sexy. Maker help me.
"Of course," I say slowly. "Got anywhere specific in mind?"
"I was thinking maybe Vincento's. It's always open till late and it's out of the way."
Why would you want a place that's out of the way?
"Sure. Vincento's it is."
He pushes himself off the Chanter's board and walks to my side, one eye concealed behind a curtain of white locks.
It's so easy to doubt the reality of his existence. He is seriously the most perfect being I have ever laid eyes on.
We walk to the cosy little Antivan coffee house, side by side, our shoulders lightly bumping into each other. Each little touch sparks a new outburst of butterflies in my insides.
"I… I know this may seem strange to you, Hawke," he says, his eyes focused on our striding feet. "But I promise to explain everything inside."
I nod, rubbing my arms with my hands. I should have put on a thicker jacket.
He looks at me. "Are you cold?"
"A little," I admit.
He very swiftly comes out of his thick pea coat, revealing the grey (and very fitted) shirt he's wearing underneath, and places it around my shoulders.
"You didn't have to do that. You'll catch a cold."
"I'm warm enough," he smiles, his green eyes twinkling.
I'm momentarily dazzled.
"Thank you," I smile, wrapping his coat tighter around me. It smells of musk and eau de cologne. I breathe in deeply in the most subtle way possible, revelling in the intoxicating aroma.
It smells so good. He smells so good.
We arrive at the dimly-lit and classic-looking coffee house and step inside. Warmth instantly washes over me from the huge lit fireplace.
A young waiter approaches us, taking Fenris' coat from me and hanging it on a coat hanger by the door. "Welcome to Vincento's. Table for two?"
"Yes, please," Fenris says quickly. His eyes sweep the entire place with that same anxious look. "Somewhere… private."
I glance at him with a somewhat puzzled look. The place is practically empty, save the couple that's busy-
Ew. Tongue action in public?
I'm not a PDA kind of person. Not at all. Some things are just better done behind closed doors. In private.
"Of course," the waiter smiles. "This way, messeres." He leads us to a little wooden table behind an elaborate, partially draped Antivan curtain. "The menus are on the table. I'll be back in a few minutes to take your order."
"I already know what I'll be having," Fenris quickly says. "Just a cappuccino, please. No sugar."
"One cappuccino, no sugar," the waiter repeats. He looks very young. I read the name on his name tag. Feynriel. Huh. Odd name. The boy is a little odd-looking himself. Not in a bad way; he's actually quite handsome. Beautiful, even. His face is narrower and longer than the average person. Like Fenris', but not as chiselled. Nothing can compare to Fenris' cheekbones. Not to mention his jaw. And his beautiful Grecian nose. Okay, I should stop now.
I quickly scan the hot drinks section of the elaborately decorated menu.
"I'll have a mocha. Skimmed milk, no sugar, please."
"One skinny mocha, no sugar," Feynriel repeats. "I'll only be a few minutes." He smiles, collects our menus and leaves.
Fenris' eyes follow the boy as he walks away. His eyes stare in that direction for quite a while, and they seem lost in deep thought. I watch him.
The sole source of light is the fireplace and the single candles placed on each table. I see the flames from our candle reflected in his large eyes, dancing in them. He abruptly directs his eyes at mine and catches me staring at him. I immediately blush and look away.
"I'm sorry," he says quietly, a hint of a smile forming on his lips. "I imagine you must be very confused right now."
"Only a little."
"Then allow me to explain why I asked you here. You know about my ex-foster father, right?"
"The scientist?" Uh oh. I'm dreading where this is going. The last time his ex-foster father was brought up, things didn't go very smoothly.
"Yes," he replies. I hear no hint of steely rage in his voice. I breathe easy.
"What about him?"
"He's the reason I… left Tevinter." His eyes are dead focused on me, and he barely blinks.
I merely look back, anticipating an explanation. I see the strange white markings on his chin, illuminated in the candlelight. I follow the lines as they go down his chin to his neck, which is completely concealed with the black scarf loosely thrown around it. He always takes a lot of care to hide his neck. Even in our karate classes, he's always wearing a turtleneck underneath his kit. Lucky it's winter. Otherwise, he'd probably sweat himself to death.
"I don't have much time to explain everything in detail tonight, so I'll try to be as brief and as clear as possible. I promise to explain everything properly to you soon. Just…" he pauses as he continues to gaze at me. "Just not now."
I nod. Feynriel approaches our table with our orders. He sets them down in front of us and smiles before he leaves. Fenris fixes his gaze on his foamy cappuccino and begins to talk.
"When I left Tevinter, I didn't just leave for a change of scenery. I… escaped." He glances up at me. My eyes are on him, urging him to continue.
"Ever since he adopted me, Danarius, which is my ex-foster father's name, treated me poorly. Whatever he wanted, I was obligated to do, may that be pouring Agreggio Pavali for his guests or guarding his bedroom door throughout the night.
What?
"So, you were his servant as well as his bodyguard?"
"I was like his slave. I propped up the furniture, when he was so inclined." The venom is already starting to seep into his voice.
"But…" I'm confused. "Why did he need a bodyguard?"
"Being a scientist in Tevinter is a very high profile position. It earns you wealth, a title, and notoriety. Not everyone is fond of the scientists there. In fact, I dare say that everyone despises them. They only allow them to rule and submit to them purely out of fear."
"But, why would they fear them?"
He picks up a teaspoon and uses it to scoop up the foam from his cappuccino. I watch him as he puts it into his mouth, and I feel things that I shouldn't be feeling just by watching someone spoon some foam into their mouth. But then again, Fenris isn't just a 'someone'.
"The power they yield is greater than most. It is a unique power, gained from years of study and research, and when used for the wrong reasons, it can be deadly. Take nuclear bombs, for example. Who, apart from scientists, has the knowledge, skill and ability to create such a deadly weapon? No one. Scientists can end the entire world in a second if they so desired."
I digest what he said. I never thought of scientists as evil or powerful. They always seemed like nerdy, old, wild-haired and socially inept people in white lab coats to me.
I take a sip of my skinny mocha. My eyes start to water.
"Are you alright?" Fenris asks, the hatred in his eyes suddenly replaced with concern.
"Yeah," I gasp, sucking on my tongue. "That mocha is scalding hot! It burnt my tongue."
"Do you need some water?" He starts to make a motion for the waiter.
"No, no, I'm fine," I reply quickly, dabbing at the tears in my eyes. "Carry on."
He studies me briefly before smiling and carrying on.
"Danarius was very fond of… experimenting on me." His eyes are fixed on his cappuccino, his expression hardened.
"What do you mean? Like, he used you as a test subject of some sort?"
"Not in the way you picture it," he says quietly. I can see that he's thinking very hard. Like he's trying his best to arrive at a very important decision on the spot.
He looks up at my face, his eyes once again studying me, almost like an X-ray. And I can see it in his eyes that his decision, whatever it is, has been made.
He reaches for the scarf around his neck and removes it, revealing a feature of his that I have never seen before, yet have always imagined.
His neck.
It's smooth and caramel and… tattooed.
I was right. The strange markings on his chin extend down to his neck, and from what I can now see, they appear to go all the way to his chest as well.
I force myself to look away and focus on his green eyes, which are intently studying me. For a reaction, most likely.
"He… he did those?" I whisper.
Fenris nods.
"What are they? They look like tattoos but… they don't at the same time."
"They're lyrium."
"Excuse me?"
"Lyrium," Fenris repeats. "A chemical Danarius created himself. Ten times more poisonous than mercury and ten times as lethal if ingested."
I allow myself to stare at the markings, but not for too long. I don't want to make him more uncomfortable than he clearly already is.
"So… so he put this lyrium substance in your skin?" This is beginning to sound like a horror movie.
Fenris nods. "I was his experiment. He wanted to learn about the effects that lyrium can have on one's physical abilities. My skills in martial arts were always highly valued by him, so he wanted to 'augment' them, so to speak."
He stares at the markings on his hands for a time before he suddenly looks up again.
"But this isn't why I called you here tonight. I do want to explain everything to you, but as I mentioned earlier, now is not the time."
He hesitates before he speaks again.
"I need your help, Hawke."