Whore. Mira felt all of the blood rush to her head.
The man took his hands from Lisanna's cheeks. "I was just educating your sister about the brothels here in Magnolia," he drawled. "A lot has changed since she's been admitted. They never used to be legal. Girls like you used to have to do such dangerous work."
Mira loosened her fist when she felt her nails bite into her palm. "Thank God for the law."
"Thank God for greedy politicians," he corrected.
Lisanna's baby blues came Mira's way. "Is it true, Mira? Do you work for a brothel?"
Though she was scared and ashamed, Mira stood straight. "It pays well." This was not how she imagined telling her sister she was a whore. Actually, if it were up to her, she never would have.
The man's mouth lifted slyly as he caught her in another lie. Mira rubbed her palms on her tights. "Can I help you, Mister?"
"I'm known to many as Black Dragon, but you, Mira, il mio amore, may call me Acnologia." The words just rolled off his tongue. They seeped into Mira's skin and into her bones and made her head fuzzy and her heart beat hard and her palms sweaty with fear, and that fucking little troll that sat on her shoulder that was a slave for danger unfurled.
This is serious. There was no reason why Zeref's rival and Elfman's one-time employer should be here. And yet, here he was. "Why are you here?"
"To invite you to Prodiguer. Normally, I would have gone the traditional route to acquire your company, but you're a difficult woman to find these days, without a Matriarch to govern you."
"Mira?" Lisanna asked from the bed.
"Not now, Lisanna," Mira said sharply.
Lisanna's face, ingénue just a moment ago, snapped down in an expression teetering on the crest of rage. She had a pencil in her hand that she snapped upon hearing Mira's frustration. It took so little to provoke her these days. "Is he a bad man?"
Mira envisioned Lisanna lashing out like she was prone to do. She licked her lips and lied and lied and lied. "No." To Acnologia, she said, "When did you want to go?"
"Now." He didn't seem concerned with Lisanna's hollowed expression. Nor did he seem concerned with the pencil the girl gripped so tight, blood leaked from the palm of her hand. Mira was, though.
"Alright."
"Mira—"
"I'll come back, Lisanna. I'm sorry. We'll visit after and we'll—we'll talk about what you want to talk about."
Lisanna's lip wobbled. "Don't leave with him."
"I'll be back."
"She'll return to you." Acnologia rested his palm against Lisanna's cheek. That was his first mistake. His second was thinking Lisanna wasn't capable of causing him pain. She had his hand slapped away and was standing, fist raised with the broken pencil in her palm, aimed at his heart in less time than it took Mira to draw breath. Mira reacted before Acnologia could decide what to do next—dodge? Hurt Lisanna?—and put herself in the way. She felt hotness on her cheek as Lisanna's fist arced downward and the pencil scraped her skin. Last second, Lisanna shifted her hand, leaving Mira with a gouge beneath her eye and not a hole in her face.
Lisanna adjusted with a growl and pushed Mira out of the way. Mira fell, unable to catch herself in her high heels, and met the ground unceremoniously. "Lisanna!" Her sister's name popped out of her mouth with breathy surprise. Lisanna heard her not at all. She was gunning for Acnologia again and this time, he wasn't so stunned. He grabbed her wrist and squeezed it so hard that Lisanna gasped and dropped her pencil.
Shoes squeaked over the tiled floor and then nurses in scrubs were rushing into the room. Two of them grabbed Lisanna by the arms and, when she resisted, lifted her up and slammed her back into her bed. Lisanna screamed like an animal all the way up until one of the nurses jammed her arm with a needle with enough sedative in it to knock out an elephant. In seconds, Lisanna's eyes went dull. Her muscles relaxed and her head rolled on the thin pillow. Her eyes found Mira. Mira couldn't look at her for too long, Acnologia stepped in front of her and extended his hand.
Mira realized that there was talking in the room. Nurses were ushering them out. And she had to get off the floor. She didn't accept Acnologia's hand, not wanting to upset Lisanna anymore, and got clumsily to her feet. She didn't look back at her catatonic sister. She didn't even pay attention to Acnologia at her side, matching her steps with his long legs, not until they stopped at the elevator and he offered her a handkerchief from the pocket of the expensive navy suit he wore. Mira used it to wipe her stinging cheek. It came away red.
"It's not very bad."
Bad enough.
"If you want, we could ask the nurses to clean and bandage it."
"I just want to leave," Mira said.
"My car's out front."
A look and she knew that he wouldn't take no for an answer. She was quiet in the elevator and so was he, standing with his keloid scarred hands clasped before him, his eyes, green like the sea, fixed on the camera in the upper corner of the elevator. Mira was sad when the machine slowed and the doors slid open and they stepped out of the relative safety that piece of equipment offered. Men like Acnologia were camera shy when it came to doing awful things.
Shy in general. His being there personally didn't sit well with her at all.
His arm locked around her waist and he cut a path through the busy hospital. Mira thought of the last time she'd walked through there with a man at her side. Laxus Dreyar was a long way away, his danger a much different kind than Acnologia's. Acnologia was lawless like Zeref Dragneel. And not. There was a wildness to him that Zeref didn't have. Mira dug her fingers into her clasped forearms.
At the front of the hospital, the automatic door opened and welcomed them into the grey outside. Mira clutched her jacket tighter to her body. It didn't matter that the leather blocked out the wind, it did nothing for the cold. Her skin was uncomfortable in seconds. It only got worse as a black Mercedes-Maybach S600 pulled up to the curb in the 'no parking' zone. Acnologia didn't seem to care much about things like 'no parking'. Mira supposed when you had as much money as he did, you didn't have to.
Acnologia pulled the door open for her and waved her on inside. The smell of leather wrapped around her. She slid over as far as she could go. Acnologia got in and allowed her some space, staying on the opposite side of the car.
In the front seat, a man with a driver's cap kept his eyes forward as Acnologia said, "Prodiguer."
Mira half expected him to add 'Jeeves.' But no. Acnologia was not a humorous man. "Why am I here?" She wished her voice was stronger.
His eyes came her way. "So you can be my whore."
I am the dirt you created
I am your sinner
And your whore
Mira shook the lyrics from her head. "If you wanted to hire me—"
"Everything will be explained to you, Mirajane. For now, know that I put great value on silence," Acnologia said.
Mira took the hint and pressed her cheek to the window.
Jellal had seen a church defiled in every way imaginable. Drugs snorted off altars, people strung up and strung out on pews, orgies and the unorthodox all mingling together in the walls of the Prayer. But this. Seeing Kardia Cathedral torn open, an animal with an unhealable wound, seemed like the biggest sin of all.
He stepped over a mound of rubble in shoes that weren't meant for this kind of thing and felt a nail stick into his treads before he ever had the opportunity to step on it fully and skewer himself. He balanced and yanked it out, throwing the piece of sharp metal back into the pile. Incident reports were not his forte and he never wanted them to be.
Beside him, Laxus unceremoniously kicked a hunk of brick and sent it spinning. Jellal wanted to tell him to be more careful with the church's property but who the fuck was he to say? It wasn't like if God was real, he'd overlook all of the 'shades of grey' Jellal had done because he told his partner not to kick a goddamn brick.
Laxus pinched his cigarette between his thumb and forefinger. Without the roof on the church and with most of its walls missing, he'd taken to smoking 'indoors'. Jellal didn't bother telling him to knock it off. If he thought he could handle it, he'd be chain smoking, too. Anything to keep himself distracted as one of the technicians, a girl with glasses and ombre purple hair in a high bun, took the key that had been found on Father Buchanan's body and approached the door they'd discovered beneath the floorboards of the confessional twenty-five minutes before.
"What do you think's inside?"
A new voice stole Jellal's chance to answer. "Have you always speculated, Detective?"
Jellal turned his head and took in Superintendent Tores. He was in a suit this time, his hair tied back, his tie snug against his throat. Jellal's mind churned. He didn't look to Laxus to make sure that his poker face was in play. He had to make sure his own was something worthy. "Sir. I wasn't aware that you were making a site visit."
"Performance reviews are coming up," Tores said with a smile that made the skin at the edges of his eyes crinkle. Jellal tried to imagine him strangling the life out of girls. He tried to imagine him sewing their skin with wire. He tried to imagine Tores making a crown of thorns and resting it on their heads. It was hard. The man had upheld the law for so long. Zero unsolved cases. He had a real respect for the law and the system.
So how?
Perhaps it was that respect that was his undoing?
You don't have proof yet. Jumping to conclusions was Laxus' gig. Jellal always tried to keep his mind clear until he had all the facts. He didn't want to do sloppy police work.
"In that case," Laxus said, "stick around. I have a feeling we're about to turn up something good."
"I hope you're right." Tores smiled and Jellal could stop looking for the killer.
Before Jellal even heard the lock disengage, he knew he didn't want that door opened. There was no stopping it, the technician was already swinging it back. Metal moaned. The smell snuck out first. Rotten iron. It stuck to Jellal's nostrils and dragged him down, down, down. The technician made a good play at being impartial, yet, her face went green before she pulled her shit together.
"What is it?" Laxus asked.
The girl stepped aside so Jellal could see past her body. A set of stairs led down ten feet to a room that was lit by red hydroponic lights. Jellal didn't see her at first. Later, he'd imagine that was because he didn't want to. No. His eyes moved to the roses growing along the walls, tall vines that looped and coiled with thorns long and sharp. Every now and again was a rose the colour of pink sunsets. The vines led him to the front of the small room. To the altar.
Laxus swore and grabbed the back of Jellal's jacket before he ever really registered exactly what he was seeing. By the time Laxus had pulled him back from the edge several feet, Jellal knew that it was a person he was looking at. A woman.
She was without clothes and yet it was the absence of her head scarf that made Tante Alba look naked. Her hair was short and impossibly curly, the locks twisted together like scorched chain and resting against her paled face. Jellal had seen enough dead people to know what they looked like.
No one said, 'Call an ambulance' because they thought she could be helped. That was only to appease protocol. Someone new said 'Call the coroner, too.' Jellal wanted to shoot that person.
"Come on." Laxus was pushing him back. Jellal stumbled to keep his footing and staggered toward Tores. When he met the man's eyes, Tores looked professionally sympathetic, but behind the 'cop face' was a coldness that Jellal memorized because that's what a killer looked like. Jellal lurched forward, not thinking about why; Laxus held him still and covered up the motion by making it look like he was supporting Jellal's weight.
"Easy."
He didn't want to fucking be easy.
"Did you know that woman, Detective?" Tores asked.
Jellal didn't think he could speak. He did, though. "Everyone makes mistakes. This is your biggest." There wasn't a brain cell in his head dedicated to preserving any fronts. He didn't think about what would happen if Tores knew that he knew. He couldn't. The only thing he could do was get the fuck out of there. He pushed roughly away from Laxus and left Tante Alba's killer standing there with a vague smile on his face.
No walls on the church meant that Jellal could escape without hindrance. The only thing that slowed him down were other officers trying to speak to him. He bowled past them all and didn't stop until he was at his Charger. He didn't go for the driver's seat. That felt too confining. He went for the trunk and pressed his palms against the cold metal and let his head hang between his arms.
He breathed. In and out. in and out. In and out. The ground spun viciously. The wind whipped by, bringing with it the smell of powdered brick, blood. Sin.
It stuck to the back of his throat and permeated every fiber of his being.
I'm going to puke, he thought and swallowed a mouthful of saliva. I'm not. He bit his cheek hard. He hadn't been this bad since his first child case when he'd been investigating the murder of a young girl. Her father had hacked her to bits and left her to rot in the basement.
Thinking of that had been a mistake. Sweat drenched his brow.
A hand landed on his shoulder, solid and sure. There was an instant where Jellal thought it was Tores. He clenched his fist, ready to stand and strike the man until he stopped moving. Then Laxus spoke. "There's no damage controlling this. He knows we're on to him."
That had been a mistake that hopefully wouldn't cost them anymore. "He'll know what's coming for him then." Jellal only wished Tores would be scared instead of vague and cocky.
"Sorry, man. About Tante Alba."
Jellal took in a noisy breath through his nose. The world stopped spinning so he stood straight slowly. "He's going to pay."
"He will. We should go talk to Somnium's Matriarch before this gets to Ultear and she pulls us off the case." Just as Laxus stopped speaking, Jellal's phone started ringing. He ignored it. Laxus' went off next. He was less inclined to let it go to voicemail. Jellal glanced at the screen before Laxus could answer. It was the office. Laxus visibly warred with himself and then he put the phone back in his pocket.
"Let's go."
It likely wasn't wise that Jellal got into the driver's seat. He needed to do something, though. Not just sit in the passenger's seat and think about how Tante Alba suffered for no other reason than just because. He started the car and drove too fast.
Mira wondered if the Closed for Private Function sign ever made its way out of Prodiguer's window. It wasn't sun-bleached but anytime she'd walked past the place, it had been there for all of the pedestrians to see. Unless Acnologia wanted you to enter, no one stepped foot over the threshold.
Never before had she felt so self-conscious of her clothing as she walked up the stairs. Zeref always wanted her to look good when they went out and they always went to places of this caliber, sure, but this time was different. Acnologia was different. He stayed out of the media even more than Zeref did, ruling his empire with an efficiency that was unparalleled. He had no weaknesses as far as Mira could tell. There was no younger brother, no son, nothing to humanize him. There was only his money and his drugs.
Mira had never been more nervous in her life. Not even when she had to explain to the police that yes, Elfman had killed Lisanna's attackers and yes, he was gone and no, she didn't know where he went to. The only thing that had gotten her through that day was the truth. Elfman had disappeared and didn't contact her again until years later when he figured that it was safe once more. By that time, he was working for Zeref. He was mean and he was cold and he was more cunning than she'd ever considered possible.
See? You've seen cold men before, she thought as she watched Acnologia's back. You can do this. You've lain with them, you've danced with them, you've told lies to them. And you've enjoyed it. All she had to do was go in, figure out what he wanted, do it, and get out again.
There was no concierge. Acnologia pulled a key from his pants pocket and unlocked the door. Inside was abandoned, too. Mira's nerves skyrocketed. She rubbed her palms on her pants again before following him inside. The door closed. It was locked. Acnologia didn't bother turning on any of the lights while he moved between tables, Mira in tow. Mira looked at everything. The bar, the paintings, the shining floor, the tables with their squares of white cloth and their red as sin roses in the center. It was everything she thought it should be whenever she thought of entering Magnolia's most chichi restaurant. In her mind, when she'd arrive, she'd be in a beautiful dress, her hair would be plaited elaborately, she wouldn't have a scabbing cut on her cheek gifted to her from Lisanna in one of her fits of rage, and she'd be on the arm of a handsome man. Though the last of her criteria was filled, Mira would have settled for literally anyone else.
"Are you nervous?" Acnologia asked over the sound of his footsteps on the dark wood floor.
"Should I be?" She tried for flirtatious. She got anxious instead.
"That depends on how our conversation goes I presume," Acnologia said without missing a beat.
Mira's already dry mouth went drier still. She wanted to run instead of enter a glass room at the back of the dining room and yet, she walked with all of the authority of someone who had made their bed and was willing to lie in it.
More than anything, she wished she'd taken Erza's knife. There was no going back.
In the center of the room was a table dressed with a tablecloth, a bottle of wine, a vase of roses, and a basket of bread. Mira took off her jacket so she didn't sweat to death, hot now that she was inside. Acnologia pulled out one chair and ushered her in, and then threw her way off course when he sat down beside her, not across, pulling his chair close enough that Mira could feel his body heat through his suit jacket.
He didn't seem quite comfortable, though. He adjusted, digging a gun out from beneath his jacket and setting it on the table within reach. Mira eyed the weapon. A tremor moved through her that she couldn't hide. Acnologia smiled. "Bella Mira, non essere spaventata."
Don't be frightened. She was. She licked her lips, tasting the remnants of the cherry coloured lipstick she'd used earlier.
Acnologia said, "I can get you something to help with the nerves. Wine? Cocaina?"
"Wine." The word squeaked out.
His hands were sure as he gathered up the open bottle and poured rich red liquid into stemless glasses so thin, Mira thought she'd break it when she put it to her lips. It stayed together while she drank the liquid back. It was only after it was in her stomach that she wondered if she shouldn't have worried if it was drugged.
Then Acnologia poured himself a glass and sipped and some of her tension fell away.
"Your brother is in jail."
"I know."
"That is unfortunate."
"He won't speak against you," Mira said in a rush.
His fingers on her cheek were cold. He searched her eyes. "No. He won't. Elfman knows if he does, everything he holds dear in this world will be…" he waved his hand, searching for the word. "Estinto. Extinguished," he repeated when he'd found it. "Like a candle."
"Is that why you came to see Lisanna?"
He shook his head. "No. That was for your benefit. I know Elfman loves both his sisters too much to ever betray me. What I don't know is if his sisters feel the same way. Your brother is a bad man and you, Miss Strauss, are trying so desperately to be good. Lisanna… she's the linchpin."
"What do you want from me?"
He slid the gun her way.
Mira hardly believed he was giving her a weapon. She didn't want to touch it in case it was a trap. She did anyway because she was so scared. Acnologia didn't flinch. Mira turned the metal over in her hands. It was still warm from Acnologia's body.
"Once we're done here, I want you to go to Zeref Dragneel. I want you to silence him and I want you to silence Natsu and afterward, I want you to drop this gun in the river and your family will be safe."
Natsu… "…Why?"
"Zeref's biggest crime is knowing too much," Acnologia said. "Don't make that yours as well."
She put the gun back on the table, thinking maybe it wasn't loaded or maybe it was a test to see what she'd do with it. "I don't know if Zeref will see me." Or if she could kill him. She wasn't a killer. Even the thought of it made her hands quiver and her breath come short.
"He will."
"How do you know?"
"He's just discovered some very disturbing news about his son and with Elfman in jail, he's feeling… strained. Your company will be what he's looking for."
"But—"
He didn't yell, he didn't touch her. He only leaned in so she could smell the wine on his breath. "You're not here to ask questions. You're here to do as I say. Arrive under the guise of asking for help for your brother. Get him alone to make things easier on yourself and then do what you're meant to do. If you mention me, all of the remaining Strausses will suffer."
Mira went to rise. Acnologia grabbed her thigh tightly and pushed her back down into her seat. "We're not through."
Mira's voice was a whisper. "There's something else?"
The doors at the far end of the room opened and a server walked in with a tray piled high with food. "Mangia, Mira. My chef has been cooking for you all morning."
She'd never felt less hungry. When the antipasto sat down in front of her, she tried thinking of ways to get around eating it. Acnologia watched her carefully and wasn't satisfied until she took a bite. It was probably delicious; it tasted like sawdust to Mira, though. All she could think of was Natsu and Zeref and Lisanna and Elfman. What everyone's life was worth and how she'd never been very good at setting monetary values.
When she was through, she was shown out of the back like a vagrant, her purse heavy with a gun, and forced to walk all the way to the Dragneel manor in her high heels. Along the way, she fought viciously with herself, a war that seemed to not have any winning sides. Halfway there and crossing the river, she'd made up her mind, cried and wiped her face of tears. She redid her makeup in the bathroom of a coffee shop and got on her way again. By the time she got there, her feet were bleeding, her toes were crunched up, and her back hurt.
The last hurdle to mount was pressing the button at the gate. It didn't seem so bad when she thought about Lisanna catatonic on her mattress, her hand bleeding and her eyes dull.
Zeref didn't question her appearance. In fact, he didn't say a word through the speaker, though she was sure it was he that allowed her entry. Mira took her shoes off to walk up the long driveway and knew her first bout of relief in hours.
At the house, Zeref answered the door with hands that were raw from scrubbing. His shirt was open; he'd been in the process of shucking it off. Likely to burn it, if Mira was to guess. In flame, the blood that was on his collar would never incriminate him.
I've known bad men, Mira thought as he invited her in without a word. They seemed to be the only kind of man she ever knew.
Aside from asking about Somnium's Matriarch, Laxus hadn't said much on the drive, so, so careful to steer clear of what they found in Kardia Cathedral. Jellal was grateful. If he didn't think about it, he didn't want to scream and turn the car back around and fill Tores up with as many bullets as he could manage. Mow him down and reload again.
Somnium's parking lot was absolutely empty. That in itself was unnerving. He parked his car right by the entrance, figuring if they needed to get out of there quick, this was the best place to situate themselves.
"Are you nervous?"
"I don't know what I'm feeling right now." Jellal kept his eyes trained on the hood of his car. Without the noise of the road, he heard his phone ring again. He took it out of his pocket, held down the top button until the screen blacked out Ultear's name, and threw the phone unceremoniously over his shoulder into the back seat. He didn't wince when it clattered against the window, hoping it would break.
Laxus sighed. "It'll be amazing if we don't get fired."
"It'll be amazing if I give a fuck," Jellal said.
Laxus had been working on a joke. It fizzled. Somnium's front door opened and Kyouka stepped out. her tawny hair was snatched up by the wind and lifted like a sand storm. She eyed the Charger as she eyed everything: they were prey. This was her web. Laxus said, "You want me to do the talking?"
Jellal sucked in a breath so deep, his lungs hurt. "I'm good."
"You're—"
"Good," he said with decisiveness and threw open his door. Movement helped smother the burning he'd been carrying in his lungs.
"Evening, Detectives," Kyouka said. "How… Nice to see you again."
"Kyouka." Laxus nodded; Jellal was glad that one of them remembered how to greet someone. Good, remember? He vowed to do better. After all, without Tante Alba telling everyone not to put a bullet between his eyes, who knew how long he'd last on Homicide stumbling and mumbling and forgetting his manners?
"Detective." Kyouka addressed Jellal directly. "I was sorry to hear about Tante Alba."
Jellal's throat was so tight, he couldn't speak. Laxus again saved him the trouble. "That's curious, Kyouka, we only just found her."
She didn't smile or play games. "One of the technicians working in the cathedral is a known associate."
"I don't suppose you're willing to say who?" Laxus asked.
Jellal didn't care. He should. But he didn't.
"Come. It's rude to keep a lady waiting," was Kyouka's answer.
Again, moving helped keep the looming rage at bay. Jellal used it mercilessly and wondered what he was going to do once he got inside? Pace like a bear? Drum his fingers annoyingly on the bar? The Matriarch would kick him out without any answers.
He practiced breathing again. In and out.
Inside, Imagine Dragon's Believer played lowly on the speakers and the blue string lights were on. By their glow, Jellal saw that the stage was empty, so were the tables. A woman stood behind the bar, hair as purely red as rubies resting against the glittering black dress she wore. Her mouth matched. Her eyes belonged to Erza, darkly lined but cold like Erza's weren't. That was unless Erza had a gun in her hand and she was shooting a man that had left too many marks on her skin.
Jellal heard Laxus swear beneath his breath. His partner had to believe what he saw and that was an unequivocal resemblance between Erza and the woman before them now. "You were on the stage the last time I was here," Laxus said. "Singing."
The woman leaned on the bar. Her hair was fire falling over the dark wood. "The night you were shot in my parking lot. I see you've made a recovery, Detective. I'm not sure congratulations are in order. Seems since then, you've had more bad luck."
Laxus touched the bridge of his nose.
"Thank you, Kyouka, that will be all." The woman's voice was caramelized sugar.
"Tante—" It was strange hearing Kyouka bestow that title to another woman when it had belonged to her for so long.
"Leave us."
Kyouka bowed her head and retreated. Outside light snuck in when she slipped from the front door. The lock engaged and then they were alone.
"Gentlemen. My name is Eileen. I own this establishment."
"Dreyar, Fernandez," Laxus said impatiently and put himself down on the barstool without being asked. "Thanks for meeting with us—"
"Acnologia stripped us of our weapons," Jellal heard himself say. Laxus' 'the fuck are you giving her ideas for' look rolled over him like water on metal. "Don't you want to do the same?"
"Acnologia is a man afraid. I won't belittle myself like that. After all, a man is a man. He bleeds, he dies, just like everyone else. Sit, Detective Fernandez."
Jellal sat like a tinman.
Laxus picked up where he left off. "We have some questions we want to ask—"
"There will be time for questions." Eileen interrupted him again. She reached beneath the bar. Jellal tensed. She only brought out three glasses and filled them all with single malt scotch. "Detective. I am sorry for your loss. Tante Alba deserved better than to die at the Cardinal's hands." She pushed the glass his way.
"We're on duty—" Laxus started. Jellal already drank his back. It was supposed to be sipped and burned his stomach but it also burned out the tight and hot feeling behind his eyes.
"The Cardinal will pay for what he's done."
"You're a passionate man, Detective." Her eyes were as hard as diamonds. "And I have a penchant for ultraviolence."
Erza sat on the couch, a piece of chocolate melting on her tongue while she stared premeditatedly at her phone, willing it to ring. Willing it to be her mother. Willing her to say, 'You were right, Erza. He was awful. I slit his throat and left him for the scavengers', not because Erza wanted Jellal to be found wanting but because she didn't know what it meant if he wasn't. For her or for him.
When her phone finally did buzz, Erza almost choked on her chocolate. She coughed to get it out of her throat and picked up her phone. On the screen was Mira's name and a picture of her taken at Magnolia Falls last October. She smiled in that photo, her hair done up and glittering in the sun, her face clear of all makeup but some lip gloss.
Mira hated that photo. It was Erza's favourite.
She answered before her phone could go to voicemail, though her voice was thready after coughing so roughly. "Hey."
"Erza?" Mira sounded scared on the other end of the line.
Erza sat up straight. "What is it?"
Mira's breath came short. She was walking, Erza thought. Or running. "I—I did something—something really crazy and I need help."