Chapter 28
Once Upon A Time in the West
Part 10
Ricochet
Outworld,
Present
With each passing moment the gunslinger stayed silent, the more it resonated with him how little choice he had. Regardless, the ex-Earthreamler stared back at the possessed form of the cupbearer with an unswayed disposition to her proposal.
Meanwhile, the blue-eyed specter inside the vessel of the baker waited for the reply to the announced deal. The pulled smirk at the corner of the girl's mouth irritated the gunman far past his already depleted limits as he mulled over the pros and cons of the poltergeist's proposition. They both knew he was going to take it, but his implacable stubbornness still persuaded him to consider otherwise, just to vex the smug entity; though a dull roar, it was.
There was really no other option, though. The being, Chaeomi, knew that his fragile guilt for the girl was enough to secure his loyalty through the promise she bestowed before him.
Information for security.
She would give Rain's location in exchange for more time for Norah.
At first, Erron didn't enjoy the vagueness in regards to what 'time for Norah' meant, but the entity affirmed they would have enough. Still, without being able to pull further information from Chaeomi, it didn't sit right. But in the end, taking the deal would benefit both of them, and as far as the mercenary could detect, there were seemingly no drawbacks. He could kill Rain and Norah could have protection for a short while as they both had time to conceive a better plan.
Although, after trying to come up with other plans earlier, he doubted they would be able to even after buying her some time. Perhaps then, he could grant her welcomed minutes that would postpone whatever fate was in store for her, even if her destiny was irrevocable. Maybe it would be enough of a reprieve for her, a gratifying short bliss of quiet mind until she herself was willing to face the deathly stride to her demise. However, he despised thinking so morosely — especially when the ghost was offering peace, not oblivion. He couldn't understand what it had in mind but could sense that it wouldn't be wise to double-cross him. They both knew the only guarantee for his compliance, was a fair trade. So, whatever its plan was, would help Norah.
There was also another thing to consider — what he was to gain.
Black knew that Kotal would be enraged about his displayed torture for the masses. The Kahn's guard knew it had undermined the authority of the Emperor's lieutenants and questioned their power altogether. The strength of the bodyguards had to be unquestionable, they were the Emperor's brutal hands, even if they were not necessarily off-limits to the rules. However, the bounty hunter had no doubt that his name was being ridiculed by the bystanders at the Coliseum that had seen his face. Even if they didn't know what he was being whipped for, knew that for sure his reputation was in question and whether Kotal would keep him employed or not when he got back to the palace. But if he could promise Rain's location, he knew he could get on the Kahn's good side — whether he was being mocked by plebeians or not. He could always rebuild his name, he had done it before, even if it was tedious and bloody work. Not that he ever minded getting his hands dirty.
Still, as he looked over the baker he had wronged, he knew that the spirit already had its answer; the deal wasn't for him, really, but for her. He owed it to Norah to give her the best chance that she could have, and his knife simply wouldn't have done the job no matter how good his intentions had been.
Whatever it was, the ghost had secured a loop-hole that he hadn't seen, and despite his aversion to being subterfuge into a deal that he wanted nothing to do with, he had to accept it to try and sponge away his darkened conscious, created from his mistreatment of the cupbearer.
"Alright then," the outlaw nodded firmly, his bitter countenance fixated on the spectar with resentful animosity. "Where is he?"
The poltergeist masquerading as the baker smiled priggishly, almost as if it hadm't been surprised by his acceptance; his rejection never in question.
Norah's hand came up to cradle the side of the marksman's face with mock tenderness. He recoiled, unhappy about being forced to willingly serve a presence he couldn't stand, and for a moment, maybe because the baker was in front of him, considered himself in her shoes and that it must have been how she felt when she first arrived at the palace to serve Tama. The revelation piled more guilt upon his already heaping load.
"I will honor my agreement," Chaeomi pledged. Her neon blue eyes twinkled brighter, a cryptic and cognizant smile forming as she patted the side of his face gently. "Don't you worry."
Erron grabbed the hand from his face, pushing it away in exasperation. "Keep your hands to yourself," he scowled, his tone harsh and unapologetic.
Norah's head tilted to the side and unabashed gleam in her haunted eyes. "I thought Erron Black liked when women touched him," Chaeomi teased. Her eyebrows furrowed as she gave the guard a satirical look of confusion. "Or did I misread you incorrectly?"
"You gonna misread the bullet I put in your head if you don't quit jawin' and make your point?" Black shot back sourly.
The puppeteered woman rose an eyebrow towards the ill-tempered cowboy. "You mean Norah's head?" Chaeomi pointed out with a genuine animated laugh. "Is it really so hard for you to remember she is here? Even when she is standing right in front of you? I don't think she would forgive you for putting a gun to her head twice."
The gunman's jaw clenched painfully at her playful reprimand. Did this thing know everything about him?
A sudden look of realization came across the woman's features. "Oh, yes in regards to Norah. I feel it would be best not to inform her of our discussion. I fear, after coming to know her, it would be best if she did not know of our meeting. Wouldn't you agree?" Chaeomi laughed at him, a smirk adorned on her false face. "Of course you do. We both know what happens when you tell the truth."
Black's eyebrows rose minutely before narrowing in contempt at her patronizing suggestion; speaking to him as if he was a child that had no sway in the matter. If the damn demon knew a thing about him — as it liked to boast — then it would know he would consort the very opposite of what was suggested. He was stubborn and did things his own goddamn way — the way he saw fit. If he didn't want to tell Norah, then it would be on his terms alone, not because of some mocking and irritating puff of air. Just because it was aware of a few shielded details from his buried past, did not mean that it was an authority on what it could dictate.
"I'll do what I damn well please and I'm done accommodating your playin' mood," he growled defensively. "So either get to it or get out of her and go crawl up someone else's ass."
"You are very funny," the ghost remarked back to him, although he saw the turquoise eyes darken at him as if she had taken offense.
Erron didn't alter his disapproved disposition, though, and seeing that he wouldn't be swayed, the ghost gave him a sympathetic smile, almost as if it was silently apologizing for wasting his time. The possessed baker stepped towards him and pointedly stared at him.
"I will meet you both at the palace and conduct my half of our bargain. I would proceed immediately, I do not know how long I can keep the symbiotes. I've never tried two at once. Should be... interesting."
The marksman's eyes narrowed in confusion at her statement and before he could question what she had meant, Norah's eyes dimmed back to their evergreen hue and she lurched forward unsteadily towards him. The baker let out a retained exhale of air as if she had been holding it all along, as she collided with Black and he instinctively caught her. He felt his whipped back twinge as he maneuvered to steady her, but her clumsy feet stepped in the sand aimlessly as her hand came to brace her forehead. With his hands holding her arms in place, the marksman waited for her to collect her wits, but instead with each passing second, she looked as if she was becoming more and more disorientated.
The woman pressed the palm of her hand to her head as if hoping the pressure would dispel her nausea. "What... what happened?" she breathlessly asked him, a small groan of pain leaving her.
As she began to retain more of her balance, Black released her. He looked her over cautiously, wondering how much of the encounter she had absorbed. Had she retained anything or had she simply been kept in the dark? How would that knowledge upset her? If he was in her shoes, he knew he would have damned well been livid at the idea of some unknown entity high-jacking his body, and from his experience with her short temper, he doubted she would like knowing it either.
Or would she simply wash away her resentment for the spirit if he told her that it had planned something in her benefit? Erron chewed the inside of his cheek, somehow doubting that it would do anything else but further intensify her indignation; she would probably be even more furious that it made the decision without her consent. She was too stubborn to heed to anyone's opinion but her own and seemed to distaste others doing things in her stead. Between her stubbornness, short temper and prideful independence, he had little doubt that her flawed character would get her killed one day.
As he mused, studying her for any indication that she was other than ignorant to what occurred, he couldn't see that she had been spectating the conversation between them. The lights had turned out the moment Chaeomi had appeared, otherwise, she would have probably been screaming irately at him for making a deal without her permission, or just angry in general for being used by some other-worldly entity. However, he detected no rancor, just merely confusion from her silent and pained expression; trying to recall what had happened within the past few minutes. It was apparent that she had no idea about Chaeomi or their deal.
It left the mercenary with an internal conundrum: did he tell her, ignoring the ghost's request, or not?
The poltergeist's suggestion aside, the bounty hunter wondered if there was any point, even if the deal did involve her to some degree; it had mainly been just between Erron and Chaeomi; it wanted him to say either yes or no to the agreement. Perhaps, it was best to keep it that way. Although, he did have reservations about withholding the truth from her; it would be just another thing she could tack on her list of grievances against him.
The gunslinger tapped a single rhythmic finger against the side of his leather holster. The unfortunate circumstance the ghost had drudged up reminded him well of how smoothly things went when he kept the truth hidden for too long, and what had resulted from it. However, he wasn't a child anymore, and he knew the difference and what was to be expected with more clarity. The situations were nothing more than rippled reflections, barely similar to each other on the surface yet somehow connected.
Plus, Norah also had more things to worry about at the moment —her husband— and perhaps it truly wasn't the appropriate time to elevate her already flustered emotions.
He just wouldn't tell her now.
If Chaeomi promised time, then he would tell her then.
It was the only way they would both be satisfied.
Still, like in Atchison when he prolonged the truth from Abraham, it didn't seem right withholding it from her and it made his stomach worm at his lack of confidence.
He shook his head slightly in disapproval with himself.
Maybe he still hadn't learned his lesson...
Her haggard breathing began to level out, returning to normal as she continued to tense from obvious rolling waves of nausea that still plagued her. Norah looked to him, seeking an explanation for her sudden sickness. He wasn't sure what she would buy, or maybe she was too discombobulated to care at the moment and any he gave would suffice.
The baker suddenly winced, her face scrunching in discomfort as she went to touch the back of her neck. When she brought her fingers down, they both noticed her fingertips had been painted red in her blood. Norah hissed, touching the spot on the back of her neck again and moaned in pain at the contact.
Erron reached for her, grabbing her lightly by the shoulder to turn her towards him. The back of her dress, near the neckline, darkened into an angry, bloody spot that concealed the new wound he couldn't see. He looked pointedly at her and wordlessly asked her for her permission to look at her skin which she gave him with a small nod.
Black pulled the material down with a single finger, exposing the upper part of her shoulder blade to reveal her skin had blistered and turned a pepperish red. The skin had peeled away in sporadic sections while the under-layer of skin bled from the open wounds. He had seen similar wounds and the only answer he could come up with is that it was a severe burn. The fact that it hadn't surfaced until Chaeomi had left, made him believe that the two were irrefutably connected. Also, it seemed as if the spot itself resembled a distorted child's handprint.
To say the least, it confused the hell out of him. If Chaeomi didn't want Norah to know about their conversation, why leave evidence?
"What is it?" Norah asked him, her voice wavering with worry.
Erron gave an airy sigh before he placed the fabric of her dress back over the wound and stepped away.
Some parasite.
Continuing his previous train of thought, he couldn't understand the purpose of the mark, and for a brief second wondered if the small handprint was Chaeomi's way of mocking Sallie towards the gunslinger; an undesired discussion he wished never to partake in again.
Perhaps, it was a ploy aimed at his contradictory guilt by intruding on his personal life and stirring back forgotten memories. But, she had already won him over to her side, so why hurt the vessel? Maybe he was thinking too hard about it, perhaps it was nothing more than a consequence of being possessed by the demon that came with no explanation. If not for the coincidental shape of the mark, and that the ghost knew of the girl in the white dress from his past, he would have settled on the thought. Instead, he frowned heavily, coming up blank with answers.
"Black?" the girl demanded a little more flatly, waiting for his answer with impatience.
He glanced to her and then back to the spot on her dress.
Despite the mark, he refrained to tell her what had happened. He knew that she wouldn't enjoy the idea that a ghost had used her body to make conversation without her permission and left with nothing more than a burn as thanks.
He would tell her, but just not now.
"You tripped and hit your head. Knocked ya out cold and a lit candle fell on ya from the bar," the bounty hunter lied. It wasn't his best, and even he felt like kicking himself in the ass for something so mucked up, but it was the only one that instantly came up that made sense. Still, she looked at him with a dubious frown, entirely unconvinced of his explanation.
Her green eyes slanted towards the door of the establishment they were outside of and then back to him with a skeptical glower. "You are lying. Why are you lying?"
Black felt the corner of his mouth tugged briefly to the side before it dropped into a pensive frown from behind his face mask. Disappointed yes, but he figured she wouldn't have believed him— after all, she never believed anything he ever said.
He sighed, placing his hands on his hips. "Why you askin' me if you know everything?"
The woman opened her mouth wordlessly before her lips pressed into a hard line, her brows furrowed in contemplation as she tried her best to recall the past few minutes. The cupbearer pondered in silence as Erron studied her expression. She was clueless as if the past moments under possession had never transpired. He could tell it frustrated her that she couldn't give him an answer but knew the one he provided was not what had happened. She sighed at him, tenaciously unaccepting of his suspicious explanation.
"How could I do such a thing? I doubt I was that clumsy," she pointed out, her eyes narrowing at him distrustfully.
He gave a small scoff, one more akin to an airy chuckle, as he rose an eyebrow at her and berated: "You sure? We've both seen you hit your jaw in front of the Kahn."
The corner of the baker's mouth tugged bitterly to the side at him, both of them recalling the incident when she tripped on the hem of her skirt and catapulted face first into the Kahn's table. Black could still hear Ferra cackling at her in his head.
Still, she shook her head at him. "I still do not trust that is what happened. I deserve to know."
"I told you already," Black protested stoically.
She clenched her jaw, her expression turning sour the more he persisted with his deception. "What is it that you cannot tell me?"
He huffed indignantly. "You tell me."
Norah gave him a pointed stare, angrily beseeching him. "I am asking you."
Once again, he debated against telling her the truth, despite both of them already knowing his lie wouldn't be swallowed down no matter how much he argued. They both knew that she was aware of his hesitance to withhold the truth, even if she seemed more confused than irate that he continued to do so. Even though her mistrust of him had dwindled slightly since leaving the Coliseum, he could tell that she detested that he was still being dishonest with her.
But, they both knew that he wasn't going to budge, and Erron could tell the revelation was sinking in with her as her face darkened at him more and more with each passing silent second. He briefly thought back to Abraham and wondered if the soldier would have hated him with the same caliber as her. Erron knew that it was no contest though, he feared the soldier more than he feared the wrath of the female baker. They were both different though, each of them able to deliver the same amount of trauma in different forms. Abraham's by wrath, her's by playing to his guilt.
The gunslinger rolled his shoulders and frowned as he turned his back to her, walking in the direction of the palace. "I ain't arguing with you all night. So when you come to your senses and remember, let me know."
"Why can you not say? Are you really so cowardly!?" she called out to him suddenly, and he could feel her heated eyes on the back of his head.
The gunslinger sighed repentantly. Why couldn't he simply just tell her? Was it for him, or was it truly for her own sake? It didn't take long for him to arrive at the answer — it was for her. It was better she remained uninvolved at the present moment. Perhaps the ghost did have a point now that he thought about it. Maybe, it wasn't merely an instruction, but an idea, despite that it went against everything he learned in Atchison.
But still, there was one glaring enigma.
Perhaps the purpose of the mark was for him to eventually tell her what had happened, despite that Chaeomi had told him not to. It gave him no escape; he would have to tell her about the conversation no matter his objections. His eyebrows hardened into a firm line when he connected the past and present and realized that the ghost had been toying with him.
Chaeomi knew what he would do — fall back to his old ways— and used the opportunity to mock him by placing a mark on the baker's back— the same location Sallie's afflictions had been. Maybe the ghost hated him more than he hated it after all, and couldn't help but dig harder into the wound.
Norah would know, and just like Atchison, it started with Erron withholding the truth for a short time.
His lip curled up from behind his face-mask irately.
That eavesdropping son of a bitch.
For a second, he reconsidered and thought of telling Norah the entire situation; the deal, the ghost, why he had lied. In all honesty, though, he wasn't even sure he could spare the energy no matter how much he wanted to; the pieces had already been set. He would have to pay for his lack of foresight in the future and proceed as planned.
So instead of answering her question, despite how much he wanted to, picked up his feet and carried on.
He heard the female servant huff behind but heard her approaching footsteps from behind; catching up with him. As she came up beside him, walking next to him in a mirrored pace, Erron saw her reach to the back of her neck and go to touch the burn once again. Her hand came back in front of her face, and he noticed that she didn't seem to be bleeding as before; either it had stopped on its own or was soaked by the blue fabric of her gown. Her eyes crinkled into a hard stare at the blood on her fingers, still questioning the validity of Black's statement, but after a moment of once again coming up blank, she sighed and wiped the blood off by brushing her hand against her thigh, dirtying the dress.
His eyes lingered on the smeared red line before he looked up, keeping his eyes peeled for any semblance of blue colored eyes among the early morning passers-by. For the most part, the walked in silence. She no longer questioned him about what had occurred though he could still see it was in the back of her mind, constantly biting at her like a persistent gnat. Fortunately for his half-cooked up lie, she had more precarious things that dwell on and seemed to push it aside to make way for the more pressing of matters.
As the sun began to creep closer to dawn, the bright clementine hue spilling over the myriad of buildings, they knew it was just more time passing before she encountered her new husband.
Black caught a flash of gold, reflected slightly by the morning sun, and looked towards Norah to see her fumbling with the simple gold band Hulin had given her after his impromptu kiss. It was almost as if they had been both thinking of it because her face set into a firm scowl as she juggled the ring in her palm; almost as if the jewelry was burning her the more she touched it. He hadn't seen it since the Colesium's grungy hospital, but as they came closer to the Kahn's Palace, she brought it out, as if acknowledging that her fate hadn't been a nightmare, but reality itself.
Still, she refused to place it on her finger, as if still fighting against the horrible situation. Her candid rebelliousness couldn't last forever, though, and it seemed she was aware of it as well. Her fist tightened around the ring, her knuckles turning white as she tried to crush the band in her palm. A shaky sigh escaped from beneath her lips, her eyes blinking rapidly as her steps began to slow with each passing footfall towards the towering structure where she thought death awaited her.
Meanwhile, Black slowed his stride to accommodate her—as eager to get to there as she was— as his eyes also looked towards the palace on the other side of the marketplace with pessimism. The mercenary wasn't sure what exactly would occur when they reached their destination, even if he had flimsy premonitions about what they should expect.
However, since his agreement with the ghost, he had to admit, he found himself more in the dark. He knew what was coming for him, and it was in the form of an angry Kahn that would strip his allowances and make his life miserable until he brought Rain to the palace as penitence. Her, however, there was even less clarity. Chaeomi had mentioned the symbiotes, and it didn't take much for the guard to know that she was referencing to Ferra/Torr. Still, he failed to connect what the idiotic, brutish pair had anything to do with Norah's predicament.
The only thing the Outworld assassin could think of was that the symbiotes would be her savors. He knew briefly of Ferra's infatuation with maintaining a friendship with the woman. He merely thought it was simply because she liked her bread at the dinners, but he faintly recalled the homicidal dwarf looking at the baker with a strange fondness. Maybe it was nothing more than a friendly professional relationship between cupbarer and guard, and albeit he didn't see much of their interactions with each other, but perhaps Ferra was lonely and pathetic enough to think the baker thought of her as a friend. At least, that was the best impression he got from a few momentary glances.
He wondered though if Chaeomi could possess both of the brutes, would they be sent to kill Hulin. He scoffed inwardly at the preposterous — but tempting — idea. Black suspected that the ghost would know better that the Kahn would find Ferra/Torr's unnecessary dispatch of the palace torturer punishable, and he doubted it wouldn't be something as ill-conceived by the smugness displayed by Chaeomi. Although, he doubted Norah wouldn't mind seeing Torr crush Hulin for her. Even he had to admit, it would be nice to see.
Lost in his thoughts, the usually acute gunslinger failed to notice how the woman suddenly stopped in her tracks as they came close to the palace wall. A couple paces ahead, he turned to see her standing in the morning sun pale as a sheet and silent as the grave except for the shuddering breaths that came from her lips. Black turned back to the wall and found the source of her sudden trepidation.
Hulin stood outside the wall as if he had been waiting all this time for them to finally come around the corner. From the tired look in the normally polished Edenian's face, he had been stationed there all night, waiting for the mercenary to deliver his unwilling, future bride to the palace. He smiled towards the pair, and Black couldn't tell if it was because he was relieved to finally see them after a long night of waiting, or happy his wife was finally before him.
The palace interrogator walked towards them, his stride as confident and contented as a vulture finding carrion, as he placed his long sleeved arms behind his back, locking his fingers together, while the mercenary and the baker stood and waited for him to reach them.
"I am about to die, perhaps would be the best time to be honest with me or just shoot me here."
Erron furrowed his eyebrows, contemplating if he had heard her words correctly or if it has been nothing more than his imagination. The gunslinger turned towards her, staring at her pointedly to repeat what he thought he heard her say.
The baker looked to him, blinking back tears before she suddenly shook her head. Silently, she scowled as if she was reprimanding herself for what she had uttered and that he had heard her say it. It had been an admittance to her weakness — of how scared she was — and she berated herself for allowing the mercenary to hear her announce it.
He couldn't judge her, no matter how much he wanted to tell her that what she said was gutless. Erron understood her situation, and besides, she knew what she had said was wrong as well. It wouldn't solve her problem to show her belly to Hulin and there was no easy way out no matter how simple it would be to just grant her wish of a mercy killing.
He didn't say anything, though, and instead placed a hand on one his revolvers as Hulin's steps began to grow louder towards them. With the man of her torment walking towards them, and Ferra/Torr nowhere to be seen, he wondered if he would have to get involved after all.
A small pang of anger began to rise in his chest like steam from a kettle. Chaeomi was supposed to aid Norah, that was the deal, but the brutes — or Chaeomi — were missing. He had expected them to be present the minute they got to the palace— or how he had interpreted it by it telling them to move quickly.
The grandiose Edenian approached his wife with an effusive smile as he rose his chin towards Norah. She visibly fought to condone herself before him, refusing to let him see her shrinking in fear as he ignored Black and came to stand in front of her.
"Hello my dear," Hulin cajoled with almost-convincing tenderness.
Erron couldn't help but crinkle his nose in disgust beneath his facemask at Hulin's false benevolence. There had been a subtle avaricious quality hidden under his saccharine words that rubbed him the wrong way. Black knew why, but refused to admit that it was because it reminded him of the gray man; the same one that had used the same false friendliness to lure him.
The 150-year-old cowboy refused to rethink the horrid memory, even though it was hard to abolish the odious elderly from his thoughts — there was simply nothing else that it reminded him of besides Bauchau. He hated it. Hated the way it tugged at the already raveled seams of a tight-sewn tapestry that he had done his damnedest to keep hidden in the crawlspace of his welcomed forgotten past. There was no denying the similarity, though, and he supposed he would have come to the same conclusion if Chaeomi hadn't brought up the crooked man. However, the difference this time, no matter the parallel, and with Chaeomi being a no show, it was now Norah's fight, and she was unknowingly in Erron's shoes.
The baker must have sensed the same predatory under-layer hidden within his sugary words because suddenly her face flushed red and her eyes shot narrowly at him. Dread was replaced with rage, as she stepped towards him and flicked the gold wedding band towards him, the small piece of jewelry landing squarely in the chest. Still, Hulin didn't react, nor looked offended, almost as if he had always expected it to be the next thing to follow.
Her lip curled at his unresponsiveness, and she stepped forward with a finger raised towards him. "I am not your dear, and I am not your wife!"
Hulin simply flashed an impassive smile in reply to her venomous scowl and proclamation. The Edenian curtly cleared his throat, before he unhurriedly reached into the sand to recover the discarded ring. He looked at it coolly before rubbing his thumb over the outside layer of the smooth band.
"I expect you to behave with more decorum the moment we set foot inside the palace," he reprimanded with a demure tone. His eyes flashing pointedly towards her, a silent warning to heed his next words. "Or... I can make you behave. Would you prefer that, Norah?"
The torturer's words could imply any type of punishment, even if he didn't list them blatantly; he suggested he could do anything he deemed fit depending on the opposition she set. It was a clear cut warning to obey or else.
Black thought of Hulin's threat as pathetic, buying obedience through fear. However, he had to stop himself and admonish his rejection when he realized he had tried to do the same thing towards the baker. Black had belittled her, used her fear of him to gain his goods. When she failed to deliver, he came to her tavern and won his next delivery by intimidating her; towering over her in the dark like some monster in the shadows. The corner of his lip tugged bitterly to the side. Although the same, at least he wasn't a rumored cannibal who needed to buy a wife. Perhaps, it made him less than Erron, even if they had done the same to her.
The woman stepped forward, standing squarely up to her contemptible spouse. Raising her chin to him, she scanned her eyes from his face, then downward, then sharply to his eyes in a challenging inclination.
"Then make me," she declared with bold assertion.
Although Erron could see the semblance of fear still ever-present within her, evident by her fidgeting palms that closed and opened sporadically, her declaration had been uttered with all honesty. She refused to be rolled over by her unforeseen circumstances as she had done in the past; accepting them without objection. Having been a victim to it so many times before now, either by Tama, The People's Court, and mostly him, Norah seemed to finally have little patience for it any longer. Her resolve was as stony and eternal as a marble statue; it wouldn't dissolve dispute whatever brutal onslaught was presented. After all, she couldn't afford it any longer.
Black looked to the Edenian, curious of his reaction to the baker's bluster. Once again, the gunman noticed a lack of a disappointment or awe, as if he had already perceived that it would have been her answer all along. He merely smiled briefly at her candid bullheadedness, before he acknowledged her statement with a yawn.
"I do not understand why you have such objections, Norah," the palace torturer confessed, his tone dejected by her ire. "If anything, you should be grateful for the life I can provide you. You will no longer have to worry about Tama or her intentions for you. I know how much you detest her. Am I such a bad alternative? Certainly being mine is far better than being Tama's."
A sharp look of annoyance blazed across her face at his aloofness, and she stepped forward, a finger squarely in his chest with enough pressure to bruise his sternum. "I see no difference. You are both equally as vile."
The corner of Hulin's mouth lifted briefly in discontent at her words as she pushed at his chest, moving him back slightly before she took a step backward. The Edenian sighed at her, shaking his head disappointingly at her as if she had failed some hidden exam he had been conducting without her knowledge; hoping for a different result.
He reached forward, and without permission, cupped the side of her neck to pull her closer. She visibly recoiled, shuddering in disgust as he forced her closer to him so they were chest to chest. An arm wrapped around her waist, holding her against him despite her avid disgust. "Depending on you, you will find that I am far better, or far worse than Tama," Hulin assured with frankness.
Black had taken a step forward to intervene but found he didn't have to when Norah's hands came up and pushed against both his face and chest, shoving him forcefully away with an angered grunt. "How dare you put your hands on me!"
Hulin eyes glinted with amusement at her, his hands interlocking behind him once again. "I can dare many things."
Norah fumed, repulsed by the sensual inclination slithering in his words. "Contract or no contract, you have no right."
He chuckled in response. "I believe that is precisely how it works with the People's Court. You are still Tama's servant, and you will be my wife when you walk through the door. You are owned no matter which side of the palace walls you stand on. However, my side is more preferable then Tama's."
She scoffed at him with indignation. "Your counterfeit paperwork means nothing to me and I fail to see how you are both so different. You both see me as nothing but a whore no matter whose contract I am on."
A horrified expression crossed his face, deceitfully sincere as he shook his head. "I have no intention of raping you. Was that what you were expecting me to do? Oh, my dear, I'm afraid you are gravely mistaken. The rumors you must have heard to think so!"
"Do not take me for a fool — that is the least courtesy you can give me," she snarled.
A smooth obsidian eyebrow lifted at her as he titled his head minutely to the side. "My dear, is that why you are being so abrasive?" A single hand shot to cover his chest, avowing candidly as he swore, "I had no intention of forcing myself on you. I was to allow you to sanctify the marriage when you saw fit. However long that may be, I look forward to that day."
Norah's face crimped in disgust at him, her eyes wide at his absurd pledge. At the same moment, Erron couldn't help but scoff at his ludicrous assertion, finding his declaration flabbergastingly pompous and yet idiotic. He doubted the headstrong woman would ever willingly sanctify their bogus marriage, especially considering the clear abhorrence she felt towards the Edenian.
However, as he eyeballed the baker and the palace interrogator more thoroughly, the gunslinger detected a cloaked malevolence behind his projected amity. Years of making deals, signing contracts had schooled him in detecting bullshit and false intentions just from body language and searching for the right incriminating articulations. There had always been a reason why he seldom said little during negotiations, and one of the various reasons he wore a mask during talks with future employers, was to fool those who were buying his services. He presented himself as an indecipherable stone; unable to be read by those trying to and conducted business with indifference. The mystery to his real thoughts and intentions, and how he felt towards whoever was employing him, would always be to himself and he would let them fill in whatever they wanted to assume.
Hulin, on the other hand, was not as skilled as Erron was in hiding his thoughts and motivations, and he could call his bluff the moment he proclaimed she would eventually be the one to want to consummate.
The outlaw suspected his tool of choice would be blackmail. His presumptuous demeanor was enough evidence for Erron to come to that assumption. The Edenian carried himself around her like he already had his ace in the hole long before they had arrived at the palace. Granted, there wasn't much he knew too much about the Kahn's questioner, but his gut wormed enough for the marksman to come to that conclusion. The baker's husband had been confident about everything beyond just being naturally arrogant. In fact, he seemed even more so by his elevated cocky manner. He expected her to be adverse and instead of feeling rejected, pretended to be obtuse to why she would reject him; falsely offended she didn't want him. Black, however, could see it had been nothing more than a masquerade. Hulin knew how she would react, and beneath his seemingly organic reactions, behaved as if everything was going according to his design, and he couldn't be more thrilled by it.
It was clear to the mercenary.
Hulin wanted someone to break. Someone that wouldn't so easy — he wanted a challenge.
If she submitted to him, it would mean he won.
And then after that, knowing the rumors, there would be no use of her.
Black wasn't alone in his wild theory, even if she didn't connect the dots quite yet, knew he was full of shit as well. The baker let out a condescending laugh in the Edenian's direction as soon as her honest repulsion dissipated, and was replaced with derisive indignation.
"I am not your whore," Norah seethed, her lips curled up with teeth bared like a wolf. "And I am not as stupid as you think I am."
He cocked an assured smile at one of the corner's of his mouth before it fell into a flat, pressed line. "Believe me when I say, I didn't buy you because I think you are stupid."
Black's eyes landed on the Edenian's hand, the same one that remained concealed behind his back during their conversation when the sun glinted against something concealed in his shirt-sleeve and in his hand. The Edenian didn't keep it a mystery for long as he brought his hand around and the knife that Erron had given her slide from his sleeve and into his waiting palm.
The ex-cupbearer took an instinctive step back but lifted her chin spite at him as her hand went to her back, to the black cloth she had tucked the mercenary's knife in, and found nothing hidden.
Erron's eyes slid over to the knife in Hulin's hand and then back to meet his eyes. The man didn't look at him dead-on, but he could see that he regarded him out of the corner of his eye with chiding amusement; Hulin knew where she had gotten the knife from. How he had known she had it was a different matter. Either he had already known about her proclivity with knives as her go-to weapon, or it was just coincidence he had felt it, but there had been a reason for him to wrap his arms around her to pull her in an embrace; either to be annoyingly impertinent or because he assumed she had a knife and meant to disarm her.
He answered Black's internal inquiry with a grin and castigated to her with an apathetic tone: "However, do not assume you are smarter than me."
Her jaw clenched at his subtle insult; offended by his clandestine but ironically blatant implication. However, despite how she took offense to him calling her simple, the baker visibly stiffened in fear at him once she saw the knife; the realization she was now vulnerable without Black's knife starting to sink in little by little.
"Tama warned me — several times — how you like knives," Hulin informed, his tone satirical. "I suppose I was wise to heed her words this time."
Perhaps if it was not unbeknownst to her, she would have found comfort in Chaeomi's deal, but since she was unaware of it, she stared at the Edenian with dread as her last option for defense has been plucked away.
Speaking of Chaeomi's deal, the irate gunslinger scanned the nearby walls and alley of the marketplace for the beastly visage of his two symbiotic Kahn's guards. However, as the meeting between husband and wife continued to carry on, he found himself enraged. At this point, with Ferra/Torr a no-show, it was safe to assume that the ghost had failed to meet its end of the bargain. There would be no help coming for Norah that he had begrudgingly had stooped low to achieve. The ex-Earthrealmer wasn't sure what aggravated him more about being double-crossed: that he had his time wasted or that Norah was back to square one.
His thoughts were interrupted suddenly when Hulin held out the knife to Black in an upward palm; returning it back to its rightful owner. Erron didn't make an attempt at first to reach for it, standing uniformly as he had been during the entire encounter. The Edenian's conceited demeanor never wavered as he kept his eyes trained on Norah, and waited for Black to retrieve what they all knew was his. There was a belittling quality aimed at Black that had been well-intended for him to understand as he stood there, and it grew Erron's exasperation more for the man the longer the interrogator's hand held out to him.
Eventually, the provoked gunslinger stepped forward and grabbed the knife, and it only then did the Edenian glance at him. With the knife withdrawn from his hand, Hulin regarded Black with hubris; curling his lip at the Kahn's guard with cynicism. Erron didn't falter, or indicate was enraged at the look — it had been the only time the man didn't try to give a phony appearance. The marksman simply rose an incredulous eyebrow towards him; Hulin must have truly been stupid to think he would be intimidated by him.
"You may leave now. You have done your job, mercenary," Hulin remarked with a chafe tone. The man's dark eyes sharpened at the outlaw as bitter as vinegar. "And if you have any wish to remain employed, you would do well to stay clear of my wife."
The words rolled as bitingly as glass over the mercenary's skin and Black visibly bristled with anger. Where did he get the idea that he could threaten or order him like some ill-breed dimwit? Did he forget who he was talking to? Perhaps the pretentious Edenian needed a lesson, one that the gunslinger would be happy to teach.
The Outworld assassin tucked the large knife into the side of his belt, his stern eyes never once leaving Hulin's as he squared his shoulders and walked closer to the man.
"Maybe you wanna repeat what you just said. Preferably with a better choice of words," the gunslinger growled, his hands moving to lean on the handles of his revolvers.
The Edenian showed no penitence and regarded Black's domineering countenance with callous indifference. "I have no trouble repeating myself: stay away from my wife."
The gunman sneered from behind his mask, and despite that Hulin couldn't see it, the minute narrow of his brown eyes indicated to Black that Hulin knew how he was regarding him. "Why? Will it get your stomach churning?"
The interrogator scoffed. "So you can not give her any more knives," he explained with a clipped emphasis.
"Oh, does it make you nervous?" Black mocked with false worry.
"Not at all," he shrugged as he regarded the marksman. His eyes looked to Black's boots before back to his eyes with scornful regard. "And I am not petrified by a whipped Earthrealmer, either.
Erron's hand tightened over the handle of his revolver. "Whipped or not, I will still bury you."
Hulin clicked his tongue at the mercenary. "I believe you need the Kahn's approval first. So don't bark at me with empty threats, dog."
The gunslinger's hand lifted, dragging the revolver halfway out of his holster before Norah's hand shot to his chest and stopped him. The baker didn't regard him and simply stepped in front of Black, removing her hand from his chest plates in the process, as her eyes narrowed acrimoniously at her husband. "You do not get to dictate what I can or cannot do."
The marksman turned his attention away from Hulin, his eyes on the back of the baker's head as she stepped between them. Her action had genuinely suprised him, and he wasn't sure how to make of it. There was a part of him that didn't like that she was fighting his battle for him, he didn't need her help, but there was also a part of him that respected her taking the intiative to redirect the conversation back to husband and wife, and leave him out of it.
Hulin and Erron glanced at each other heatdily, coming to a silent standstill, before the Edenian finally disregarded their conversation to regard Norah instead. Her spouse pinched the bridge of his nose with his fingers, his eyes squinting as he yawned tiredly. "My dear, I am tired. Can we stop with this foolishness and finally retire?"
Norah scoffed at him, derisive to his complaint; she didn't care about his childish request. Her eyes hardened at the man, standing steadfast and declared: "I am not yours."
Hulin let out a disappointing sigh escape at the same moment he blinked his eyes lazily; his patience wearing thin. "You are."
The baker regarded him with staunch stubbornness, almost as if she believed the more she declined his orders, the quicker he would realize his mistake and revoke it. The Edenian rubbed his forehead with the palm of his hand, and Black couldn't tell if the baker was giving him a headache or he just had one in general.
The headstrong woman ignored him and gave a disdainful scoff. "I think I will choose the executioner's block instead of your bed. Do what you will, but I will not take another willing step."
The baker spat at the Edenians shoes before she curtly turned on her heels and walked away from both men; walking in an aimless direction towards the unpopulated marketplace. Black watched her, his eyes noting her stiff posture as she clenched her fists and walked as fast as her pace would allow; trying to appear reserved despite the marksman could see her hesitant of having her back to Hulin.
Erron scratched the side of his neck his fingernails, a small smirk tugging out the corner of his mouth for the briefest of moments when he noticed the Edenian bristle at her sudden departure. The interrogator kept his eyes trained on the woman, but acknowledged him with a biting order: "I believe you were demanded by the court to bring her to the palace, not in front of its gates. So fetch, dog."
Black let out a flippant scoff before sneering at him. "Make me."
The Edenian sucked air through his gritted teeth; almost as if the answer had physically pained him. It looked as if he wanted to say something, but ignored the mercenary and rubbed the side of his temple with his index finger, pressing circles into the skin to alleviate his headache. "Then go be somewhere else."
Black had begun to walk away from him, ignoring his last barbed remark; silently signaling to the man he was more than done talking to him. Still, he kept alert on the married couple behind him. He only made it a few steps before he heard the unmistakable high-pitched cackle of Ferra behind him.
Erron turned, stopping in his tracks, as he watched the two Kahn's guards come into view from the marketplace. Behind them, Torr dragged a large rope net with a bundle of bloody, but still breathing future cadavers; they only needed to be alive enough to get beheaded the next day. Norah had stopped in her tracks when she heard the small white-haired girl upon Torr's massive shoulders yell 'bread lady' fondly to her.
Black looked upon the duo with pensive disappointment, unsure if the lack of blue color in their eyes was because Chaeomi had done her part in getting them there, or they had been heading in their direction to begin with. Regardless, it ironically relaxed him to see the idiotic pair finally.
Norah glanced back to Hulin and then to Ferra and Torr, the cogs of a possible alternative solution forming; the one that he suspected the ghost had thought of. Use Ferra/Torr for protection. They liked her bread enough to do so, and with those two, it was all she needed.
The baker smiled in the two's direction, making her way towards them and away from the Edenian began walking in her direction.
Speaking of which, wanting to see his reaction, Black turned his attention to the palace torturer... and frowned instantly at what he saw.
Black hadn't really expected anything in fact, nothing more than the back of the man's head, but instead found himself staring into Chaeomi's blue eyes, now inhabiting the Edenian. He naturally fumed seeing the entity again, he hated it, but cocked his head at it, as if silently inquiring what it was playing at.
Erron noticed the back of the man's shirt, similar to where blood had stained Norah's dress, began to darken as a wet spot emerged suddenly while the ghost winked at him.
Before the marksman could answer his inquiry if the mark was purposeful or coincidental, Chaeomi steered Hulin straight towards the baker in a full sprint.
Despite that Black knew that the entity was full-filling its side of the bargain, though confusingly— he thought she would remain in Ferra/Torr —he felt his nerves spark in alarm at the way Hulin relentlessly raced towards the baker, moving with intense determination and refusing to slow the closer he got to her.
He realized why a second too late when the baker turned, hearing the man's approach, and let out a pained grunt when Hulin collided forcefully into her, knocking her on her back to the ground harshly. Erron began walking determinedly in their direction, and although wouldn't admit it, anxious by the abrupt attack from the ghost; he had assumed that it wasn't going to harm her.
His pace quickened towards them when the man suddenly flipped her to her stomach before the woman could balk out her furious complaint, wrapped his fingers around her messy bun, and forced her face with brutal pressure into the sand. The baker immediately bucked and fought, alternating from grabbing his hands to bracing them by both sides of her head to lift herself from the ground.
In retaliation, Hulin/Chaeomi straddled the woman's back and used its weight to keep her pinned underneath. His hands never relented despite Norah's muffled screams of protest, trying to free herself while the man held her as placidly as a mountain lion waiting for the deer it had by the neck to die. The baker screamed incoherently before Black heard the woman cough underneath, struggling to breathe with the sand suffocating her. The more she thrashed, the harder he pushed her face into the ground, and the more she fought for air the more she swallowed sand.
Hulin was trying to kill her — at least, that was what Chaeomi wanted Ferra/Torr to think. It worked, hell the entity sold it so well that even Erron had wondered if it was a good enough excuse for him to get away with killing him. But he didn't have to, the symbiotes did the work for him.
Ferra had yelled something that Black didn't catch, but when it was followed by Torr's enraged roar, he figured it was something along the same lines; both of them furious seeing Hulin trying to kill the one person that gave them the time of day besides the Kahn. Much like the Kahn too, they protected their friends fiercely.
"You no hurt Bread Lady!"
Hulin, or rather Chaeomi, didn't look up when the symbiotes came towards them, nor when Torr swung the net with a single arm high over his head before bringing it around to collide into the Edenian like a cascading boulder.
A spray of blood and a massive discombobulated set of pained groaning and yells came from the bag the moment the net hit Hulin. Black could swear it almost covered the sound of snapping bones as the man was catapulted back. Hulin landed feet away on his back, letting out a painful caterwaul as Norah rose her head to breath, seemingly unscratched from the net.
She gasped for air, oblivious to Torr's feet in front of her as she wiped the sand from her face. Meanwhile, the Edenian moaned in pain, grasping at his deformed arm that began to swell as he cradled it to his chest. Black also noticed his left leg bent at an unnatural angle, the joint akimbo outwards from its normal position.
Meanwhile, Erron's eyes left the injured man to focus on his fellow cohorts and the baker as he lowered the pistol that he had tried removing from his holster twice that night. He blinked, looking down at the hand wrapped around the handle of the revolver with confusion; he hadn't even realized he reached for it...
"Why Huley try and hurt Bread Lady!"
Black's attention re-fixed back onto Norah and Ferra/Torr, allowing him to pause his internal debate if him reaching for the gun had been something else or just natural reflex.
The baker coughed, a hand swiping across her mouth as she brushed away more sand. The woman rose shakily to her feet, and Erron wasn't sure if it was because of the sudden ambush, or because Torr was feet from her. Regardless, the ex-cupbearer let out a shuddered breath before casting an evil eye towards Hulin.
"Because I would not go with him, Ferra," Norah answered, turning her gaze back the smaller girl.
The white-haired girl gave a disgusted scoff. "Why Bread Lady have to go with Yucky Man?"
Norah gave a breathy chuckle at Ferra's chosen moniker for Hulin, before she swallowed, her gaze meeting the symbiotes as she reiterated her situation to them. It surprised Black, the strange sense of honesty she seemed to share with him; almost maternal, like she was explaining some gloomy life-lesson to them. And despite being hesitant towards their barbaric personalities and appearance, she opened up to them, revealing to them about how she just came from the Court — thankfully leaving out Black's whipping — and how he had cornered her with a forced marriage proposal that she didn't want.
The gunslinger walked steadily towards the pair and only stopped when his boots were at Hulin's head. The Edenian did his best to climb to his feet, no longer inhabited by Chaeomi, and blinked in pain as he stared with displeasure towards Ferra/Torr. Black regarded him like a fly, a mere constant annoyance he wanted nothing more than to swat with the butt of his revolver. However, he wouldn't have to; Ferra and Torr did the work for him, and it was pleasant to see the man hobble unsteadily on his injured leg.
When the ghost had told him about her vague plan to involve Ferra/Torr, he sincerely couldn't comprehend the value they would play; seemingly too stupid in Erron's opinion to understand. However, as he observed them, and saw Ferra's face mar with disgust at Norah's story and Torr's shoulders noticeably tense in reaction to his smaller counterpart's indignation, did he understand their purpose.
Norah had two friends —bodyguards — that Hulin would not mess with.
Ferra nodded her head, the baker's story seeping into her tiny little brain before she looked in Hulin's direction with anger. "So that why Bread Lady try and leave."
"Yes," the woman admitted. She looked to Torr, bowing her head in his direction. "Thank you, for what you did" — she looked to Ferra as well with the same appreciation — "what you both did."
"Where do you think you will go, Norah!"
The Outworld woman visibly stiffened at her husband's voice shouting to her from afar. She turned towards him, her face stoic as she acknowledged him. Black could sense the type of enmity from the him; an anger that he was losing and that he no longer had the advantage. Finally, his true colors seemed to surface.
"Crippled or not, I'll still find you," he hissed, pain making his features twist, but still managed out a haughty laugh in her direction, "Where did you think you were going to go anyway, my dear? Back to that old couple? Back to Jan Fai? Do you want them to share Abigail's fate as well?"
The mention of the old Earthrealm woman made Norah instantly stiffen in anger and her hands clenched as she marched from the symbiotes to stand in front of him. Black watched them both in silence, as did Ferra/Torr, now audience to the domestic quarrel. The woman fumed at him, enraged at his first attempt at blackmail: using her friends against her. However, Erron knew as well as she did, she would falter. He didn't know the details of the older woman's demise but by the mere mention of the woman's name, he saw her buckle at his threat. Whatever it had been, was enough to scare her to comply — not wishing the same fate to those she cared for.
The more the silence lugged between them, the more Erron noticed her resolve start to drain from her face and to see her go from stubborn to defeated annoyed him enough to want to pistol-whip the man in the back of the head in her stead. He hated him, hated his tactics, hated his pompous demeanor, and hated his repulsive intentions. He hated Hulin as much as he hated the Grey Man.
Hulin meanwhile grinned. "You have nowhere to go... nowhere except the palace. You have no one but me."
She tried opening her mouth to retaliate before Ferra jumped in, hollering from her perch. "No true! Bread Lady have Ferra/Torr!"
The brutish pair came towards them, dragging the sack behind them as a cacophony of groans issued from the bag. The three adults looked to them, Hulin with angered consternation, Norah with bewilderment and Erron with a raised eyebrow.
The small imp looked to the baker before pointing a finger towards Hulin, and ordering: "She welcome with Ferra/Torr! And stay as long as she want!"
The woman blinked her eyes in confusion, unsure what Ferra was implying, and had made an attempt to ask before the ex-cupbearer let out a surprised shriek when Torr's hand encircled the woman's waist, lifting her off the ground before throwing her on his back next to Ferra. Norah's eyes went as wide as dinner plates as her hands frantically grasped at the thick ropes connected Torr's shoulder armor to the leather straps that went down his chest. Black almost wanted to laugh at the baker, looking as flustered and perturbed as a cat clinging to a curtain.
When the larger brute felt she had a good grip, he began to move towards the palace walls, but before they left, Ferra shot a finger towards Norah's husband. "And if you try hurt again, Torr will stomp guts out!"
The marksman couldn't tell over the sound of Torr's stomping retreat, but he swore he heard Hulin gulp in fear at the dwarf's threat, and it was enough for him to cock a grin beneath his mask for a second.
Erron turned away from the man for a moment, choosing to focus on the symbiotes and the baker. He watched their departure with a torn reaction. He was glad that his part of the bargain had been fulfilled — Norah now had time — but he couldn't really say he was comfortable with the arrangement.
He wondered if Chaeomi had purposely orchestrated the events as she had planned, or if there had been some unforeseen mishap and Norah's living situation with Ferra/Torr had been a last-minute effort to uphold her end. Regardless, he wasn't exactly satisfied; it still felt as if he was given the short end of the stick. Black eyed every inch of the marketplace and the palace walls with irritation. Where was that goddamn trickster of an apparition? Now that he saw what the ghost had in mind, the deal was shit and he wanted several words with her.
Norah looked back, her eyes meeting him for a second. She looked at him with a dubious countenance, almost reflecting his current thoughts if she should worry or not. He almost pitied her and wondered just how much of an improvement it was living with Ferra/Torr than Hulin.
However, he found himself frowning. She was still on borrowed time, nothing more...
It didn't sit right with him.
"You arranged for this!" Hulin accused, seething through gritted teeth. Black turned to him with a half-raised eyebrow; feigning he didn't know what he was talking about. "I don't know how, but you had something to do with this— Oof!"
Erron shot his leg backward, connecting the back of his heel with Hulin's uninjured, stabilizing leg and caused the man to fall face-first into the sand. The man growled, pain coursing through him as Black regarded him unsympathetically as he lay prone by his boot heels.
He could have easily stomped the back of his head with his boots, rendering him unconscious, and the thought was oh, so tempting, but instead, remembering the cutting nickname he had shot at him earlier, the gunman took a step forward. He stopped, his back to Hulin before he kicked sand into the man's face with his boots, shoving sand into his face like a dog kicking up dirt to dig a hole.
"Woof," was Erron's droll and aloof tone as he ignored the man sputtering sand behind him, cursing at him that he would regret his actions.
As he walked towards the palace, leaving Hulin to cough and struggle to stand behind him, he walked through the gates with apprehension.
Now that Norah was out of the way, Erron was left wondering if his conversation with Kotal Kahn would go as swimmingly.