Chapter 7
The Charming Fairies Inn.
That was the name of the place that Jessica led Henrietta and Alex back to, and it was the place that she and her father owned. Upon entering, Henrietta could see why those two men who had attempted to accost Jessica had called it a whorehouse. Young women, some even younger than Henrietta herself, were serving men with food and alcohol, as they draped their arms around them, whispering sweet nothings into their ears. All the while, they wore dresses so bare that they made what Kirche had worn look modest by comparison.
"Why don't the two of you wait for me over by the bar?" Jessica jerked her thumb over at the counter. "I have to put this" – she held up her basket – "away. I'll get your drinks out right after."
"Yes, thank you," Henrietta said, and she and Alex went to sit down.
As they waited, Henrietta kept glancing aside at Alex. She had a deep sense of unease whenever she looked at him, a dark and nebulous feeling that she was altogether unhappy with. And yet it would not go away. It was like an infection that festered in her mind. She grimaced.
She had known that Alex was a killer. She had known it ever since he confessed to having killed hundreds or even thousands of people back in his own world. But there was a world of difference between knowing and understanding.
Henrietta shuddered when she thought about the casual ease with which Alex was willing to kill someone. True, he had not verbally asked if he could kill those two men, but a question spoken without words was a question spoken loud enough regardless. Louder, sometimes.
Here at last, Henrietta finally realized what Alex meant when he told her that he was a living weapon. A weapon did not feel. A weapon did not think. A weapon was only an instrument of murder.
It was strange how one look could change so much. Did I, somewhere in the back of my mind, not believe Alex when he told me all this? Henrietta wondered. Was I merely deluding myself as to Alex's true nature? If so, what does it mean for us now?
She needed to reassess everything, starting from the fact that Alex was an inhuman mass murderer. It was not something she could choose to ignore anymore.
Part of Henrietta wanted to laugh. How naive she had been! How wide-eyed and simple! It burned her to admit that Mazarin had a point, but it was undeniable that she was at fault. She had assumed too much about Alex while knowing – truly knowing – too little. But that did not matter now. The only question was, with what she now did know, what should she do? What could she do?
It was a question that stumped her, and Henrietta realized that before she could answer it, there was another question that needed to be answered first.
"Alex," she said quietly.
"Yeah?"
"Please tell me: would you really have killed those two men?"
"Yes," Alex answered without a hint of hesitation.
Henrietta grimaced again.
"Then why didn't you?"
"You told me not to."
"My words had no power there," Henrietta argued back. "If you followed through, regardless of what I said, there was nothing I could have done to stop it."
Alex paused to consider these words for a moment. Then he turned to look at her directly, and for the first time Henrietta saw the color of his eyes. They were blue, like hers, but a shade lighter, and harder too. An ice to her water.
"I have a sister," he finally said. "Her name is Dana. My enemies tried to take her away from me once. They got into her room, and were about to drag her away to god knows where by the time I arrived. All I could think then was that I needed to stop them. So I killed them, right there in front of her. I thought... I thought I was saving her. But that look she gave me..." Alex closed his eyes and shuddered, not from fear, Henrietta realized, but from regret. "I scared her. Scared her bad. I hated how she looked at me then." He opened his eyes again and stared at Henrietta. "And you were looking at me in the same way."
Henrietta immediately turned her head away. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to."
"It's not your fault," Alex said gruffly, returning his own gaze back in front of him.
"I just... I do not wish to see anyone die in front of me."
"Yeah, I get it."
As do I, now. Henrietta admonished herself. She felt ashamed. It was true, Alex was a killer, and it could be that his crimes were beyond forgiveness. But he was trying to move past that, and become something more than what he was made to be. His words held consideration for her, and his actions for others. After all, hadn't he only intervened in the first place in order to save Jessica? That was a noble act, one worthy of praise, not fear. And though his first inclination may have been to kill those men, he did not. He did not, because she was there.
Alex was not an unfeeling weapon, nor was he some mere monster. She had known that once before, but was she as weak as everyone said she was that a single incident such as this was enough to shake her confidence? Were her words worth so little that she was willing to betray the very trust that she had promised to give to him?
Was she that much of a hypocrite?
No.
She had wavered for a moment, but not fallen. Hesitated, but not abandoned. Nothing would change between them. Nothing had changed, except a reaffirmation of Henrietta's resolution, as well as new facts of Alex coming to light.
"You have a sister?" Henrietta was surprised by that. How does someone like Alex have siblings? "Is she... well... like you?"
"She's not a monster, no." Alex looked faintly amused. "She's a normal human being." When he saw the confusion on Henrietta's face, he explained further. "She's not actually my sister, but it's as close as it'll ever get."
"I should apologize," Henrietta said guiltily. "When I summoned you, I was so happy to have you here with me that I never even considered the possibility that you might have friends or family back in your world. I wish that there was a spell that could let me send you back."
"No friends, only Dana," Alex said. "And while I do miss her, I don't blame you. It's like you said, you never chose to summon me, and chances are good I would have died if you hadn't anyway."
"Even so, I am sorry."
"Don't worry about it."
A brief silence fell over the pair, punctuated by the noise of the waitresses and customers in the background.
"Did she ever stop fearing you?" Henrietta suddenly asked.
"I don't know," Alex confessed. "I don't think she ever really stopped being afraid of me, or at least of what I could do. She did accept me by the end, though."
"By the end?" Henrietta repeated. "Then she's... dead?"
"No," Alex said. "But she's in a coma. I have a trustworthy doctor taking care of her."
"What is a 'doctor?'"
"It's my world's word for a healer."
"Oh." Henrietta nodded. "I hope he is able to wake her."
"Yeah." Alex let out a long sigh. "Me too."
Just then, Jessica returned at last, coming down the stairs from the second floor with another person... in...
Founder preserve us. Henrietta's eyes went wide. What in Brimir's name is that?
At first, Henrietta thought it was a man, but then she wasn't so sure. It was a large, hulking beast in the form of a man, but it wore a ridiculously revealing and ridiculously feminine blouse. With the way it was designed, one had full view of the broad chest and its carpet-like hair. And the legs. It had thighs as thick as logs, and they threatened to rip the shorts that it wore from the sheer mass of the muscles every time it took a step.
Henrietta's head whipped around to Alex, looking to him for support, but he seemed unimpressed as he shrugged back at her.
"You should see San Francisco," he said indifferently. "Men who dress as women isn't even close to the weirdest thing I've seen. This doesn't even make the top ten."
"But... why?"
"Sometimes it's just for performance. It could also be because they identify as a woman, rather than a man. But I'm guessing that's Jessica's father, so that's probably not the case." Alex paused thoughtfully, then added, "Unless she's adopted."
"He is a man!"
"He might not feel the same way," Alex shrugged. "Not really our place to judge, especially me." Henrietta gave him a dubious look. "I am a shapeshifter, you know."
"I... I suppose." Henrietta suddenly had a horrible realization. "There are more of them in your world?"
"Hey, you two," Jessica greeted them, forcing Henrietta's question to be left hanging in the air. "Sorry I took so long. Had to tell my dad here what happened."
"Good evening, and welcome to the Charming Fairies Inn," the bear of a man said in a voice that was too deep, too sultry, too velvet smooth for comfort. "I am Scarron, Jessica's father. Jessica told me how the two of you saved her. I want to thank you both. Along with this inn, she is the only thing I have left in this world. I wish I could reward you somehow, but I'm afraid all we have is food and drink, which I offer you freely, and a place to stay if you and your man wish to spend the night."
"He's not my man," Henrietta said, blushing slightly at the implication. "He's my friend."
"And a good fighter, from what I've heard," Scarron nodded. "My apologies. Is there anything we can get for you?"
"I've never been to a place like this before," Henrietta said. "We'll try whatever you recommend."
"Very good, then." Scarron turned to his daughter. "Jessica, keep our guests company while I prepare them their food and drink."
"You got it, Dad."
Henrietta waited for Scarron to disappear into the kitchens before turning to Jessica and blurting out, "Forgive me for my rudeness, but I simply must know: how did your father and your mother... well... meet?"
Jessica laughed. "I know what you're thinking. It's probably the first time seeing someone like my dad for a noble like you, huh?"
"W-what?" Henrietta stammered. "I'm not... I mean, I am not a noble."
"No use hiding it," Jessica grinned. "The way you speak gives it away. Too formal. Too stiff. If you want to pretend to be a commoner, you have to be looser. Try swearing a bit."
"Your father spoke more formally than I did," Henrietta rebutted. "Is he a noble as well?"
"My dad was being respectful because he also knows that you're a noble," Jessica laughed. "And really, who do you think you're fooling, walking around in that big cloak? That just screams you're hiding something, and at this time of night the only people that have something to hide are thieves and nobles. And since you don't strike me as the criminal sort, you must be a noble. Let me guess: he's your secret commoner lover, and you're out to meet him away from prying eyes."
"As I said, we are not lovers."
"Mmhmm," Jessica grinned. "Sure, my lady. You don't need to worry too much about it, honest. It's not like we haven't had nobles here before. Though I'll admit it's a little weird seeing a noblewoman out this late. Usually it's the noblemen who are out looking for a good time."
Before Henrietta could protest again, Alex placed a hand on her shoulder and stared at Jessica. "I'm her familiar," he said.
"Nice try," Jessica snorted. "But even a commoner like me knows that there's no such thing as a human familiar."
"Who said I'm human?" Alex smiled thinly at her, and then let his face slag like melted wax and briefly transform into someone else.
"Brimir's balls!" Jessica exclaimed, garnering attention from a few of the patrons and girls nearby. "What the hell was that?"
"I'm a shapeshifter," Alex said. "Not from Halkeginia."
"I can see that," Jessica said, clearly shaken. "Yeah, that was weird. Really weird."
"I apologize for Alex," Henrietta said. "I'm sure he didn't mean to scare you."
"Scared? Who? Me? Pfft!" Jessica scoffed. "I wasn't scared. I was just surprised."
"Well, if you could keep the fact that we were here a secret, I would greatly appreciate it."
"No need to worry about that," Jessica said. "Our policy is complete confidentiality for our patrons. Long as you don't create any trouble, we won't ask or tell."
"Thank you," Henrietta said. Scarron returned then with a tray in hand, and on it there were two plates of food, two cups, and a jug of mulled wine. He set it down before them and served the wine for them.
"Please enjoy," Scarron said before leaving them to their meal again.
Henrietta took a bite. It was not the gourmet cuisine she was used to eating in the palace, but that did not mean that this was not also delicious. There was an almost gentle, welcoming taste to it, in stark contrast to the palace's stiffness. It was good and rich and warm. The wine was Tristanian. It bore the mark of Tarbes, a small village near the border of Tristain that was known for its vineyards. Henrietta had never been there before, but she found the taste delightful. She drank long and deep from her cup, and within seconds felt its warmth permeating her veins.
"My dad didn't always used to be that way," Jessica said as they ate. "It's just, when mom died, I think something inside of him died too. I don't know. I think he dresses like that because he wanted to make sure I grew up with both a mom and a dad." She chuckled in embarrassment and scratched her nose. "Can't say it was the most well thought out plan, but I wouldn't trade him for any other mother or father in the world."
Henrietta glanced over in the direction of the kitchens. She swallowed the morsel she was chewing on and said, "He must have tried very hard to raise you. I'm sorry. I shouldn't have judged him so quickly."
"Don't worry," Jessica said. "You're not the first, and you definitely won't be the last. Most people are a lot ruder about it, but Dad never lets it get to him."
"He must be a very strong man."
"Yeah," Jessica agreed. "He's got a great arm, too. You should see what happens to some of our more rowdy customers. Dad just picks them right up and throws them out."
"I wish my mother was as strong as your father," Henrietta sighed.
"Your mother?" Jessica arched an eyebrow. "Not your father?"
"My father is dead, and my mother is in grief," Henrietta explained. "She hardly eats anymore. I'm told if she continues, I may end up losing her too."
"Everyone has their own way of dealing with loss," Jessica commiserated.
"But she isn't 'dealing' with it," Henrietta retorted, surprised at the bitterness in her own voice, and even more that she was saying it now, to this stranger. Was it the alcohol or the exhilaration from being out in the city that was making her do this? She didn't know. But the words continued to flow out unstoppably. "My mother runs from the grief. She cowers before it. Does she even realize that she'll be leaving behind her daughter to tend to both her parents' graves if she maintains this course? She has not even a fraction of your father's strength."
Henrietta's face flushed red, not from embarrassment from her sudden outburst, but from anger. She hadn't realized how much repressed feelings she had on the matter, nor did it seem like Jessica knew how to respond to it. In the end, it was Alex that broke the tension between them by changing the subject.
"That girl," he said, and the two of them followed his line of sight over to a waitress in a white dress. "Her right leg. It's been hurt."
"What makes you say that?" Jessica said.
"She covers it up by swaying her hips," Alex said, "but if you look closely you can tell she's actually limping. It's an old wound. That girl over there – I saw a big scar on her back for a little bit when she bent down to pick something up. She's been burned."
"Wow," Jessica said dryly. "Does the word privacy mean nothing to you?"
Alex shrugged. "Do they have a story?"
"Well, since you were kind enough to put it all out in the open, I suppose there's no harm in telling the two of you," Jessica sighed. "But you have to keep it to yourselves."
"I promise," Henrietta said, and Alex grunted his acknowledgment as well.
"Anna over there wasn't injured, but she was born with willow-legs," Jessica said. "Her family was too poor to get her treated, so she grew up like that." Jessica clicked her tongue. "It's not easy living with a deformity. People never let you forget that you're different. Ever. Sometimes, there are those who'd would rather not live like that at all. Luckily, my dad found her first, and he paid for a water mage to heal her. But since it's been so long, she still has a bit of a gait.
"Lydia got trapped in a fire that nearly killed her. Even though she was rescued, she and her family lost everything. Their home, all of their savings, all of their things. She had hoped to get a job as a maid with some noble or at the Academy, but she hasn't had much luck. So Dad took her in too, gave her a place to stay and work until she can move on to a better job." Jessica paused and looked around the inn. "Many of the girls here share similar stories."
"And your father took them all in?" Henrietta said in wonder. "Your family must be deeply in debt."
Jessica snorted. "Like you wouldn't believe."
"Then why does he do it?"
"I think it has to do with Mom again," Jessica said. "He used to more careful with his money, but after she died I guess he started empathizing with other people a lot more. Saw what happened to us in them. Now he likes to say that money comes and goes, so what's important is that we take care of each other." She scratched her nose and laughed quietly. "Well, I can't say I like how loose he can be with money, but I do admire it. Look, I guess what I'm trying to say is that if your mom is grieving and can't get up on her own, you should support her. Be her strength, you know? Just like my dad is for everyone here."
"I see." Henrietta slowly smiled. "I see." She stood up and faced the other girl. "Thank you, Jessica. I think I am very fortunate to have met you tonight."
"You're leaving?" she asked.
"Yes," Henrietta said. "This was a good night. I am satisfied. And, truth be told, I'm not supposed to be out like this. Any longer, and I fear there may be a crisis."
"Then don't let me keep you here," Jessica said, waving her off. "Goodbye, Ann."
Henrietta smiled and nodded at her.
"Farewell."