Ch. 13: Prey
Finn's name echoes in my mind, bouncing back and forth from my ears. A sound so elusive that I almost let it leap from the tip of my tongue. Behind my eyelids is his face, eyes like fine mahogany, a smile like a firework. A man with a heart of stone. Then, I see his pale skin, his eye faded to onyx, the blood oozing from his hairline, the corner of his lips. His cold skin where I placed the cross around his neck. I almost reach forward, thinking he's right here before my eyes. But he disappears before I can fathom his presence. He's gone…because I killed him.
First thing I notice is the thick roll of tissue stuffed in my nose. The second thing is the throbbing headache pounding against my temples. The third…well, is Sting. He's seated beside me on the couch, attention focused on Rufus, whose hair is still damp, then to Orga, Milady, and Yukino, whose ankle is still wrapped. Lector and Frosch are scooted together by my knees, eyes shut and snoring softly against each other's fur. I shift around to sink into the couch when I'm seized by dull pain in my joints and muscles. My head throbs where it hit the floor. Milady sees me first.
"Rogue." She gently places a hand on my swollen arm as the others turn to me. "How're you feeling?" Her eyebrows knit together and, gingerly touching different parts of my arm, she turns to Sting. "He's hot. Flare-up."
He presses his lips together and frowns. It's that look on his face that dissuades me from sharing the fact that I had unprotected sex with Kagura again. As if it really matters, though. There's nothing that can happened between us anymore. "I'm fine," I insist. "This is nothing." I'm pleasantly surprised they haven't called the doctor in. The last thing I need is another appointment with some guy telling me how to live, when to slow down, what to consider stopping. I've gotten through 400 years without his help. I hold my head in my hands and sit up.
Frosch's eyes pop open, and a moment later, so do Lector's. "Rogue!" He pounces up on my lap and hugs my chest. "You fell in the shower! And you got hurt and you started shaking, and—…and—" To catch the tears pouring from his eyes, he holds his paws to his cheeks. My heart sinks a dozen times, so I pull him snug against my body.
"I'm sorry, buddy."
"You gave us quite a scare, Mr. Cheney."
At the voice, I instantly roll my eyes, landing them on Sting. "You're going to perish a thousand times for this, T."
Milady dips her chin to me, giving me a silencing look. "Rogue."
"I'm fine."
"Rogue," Yukino repeats, snatching my attention. Her eyes become milky with worry again. "Please." I groan and unscrew the damp tissue from my nose, tossing it in the trash over the top of the couch.
The same doctor from before sets his bag beside the couch, kneeling to rummage through it. "So, I hear you suffered a moderate seizure while taking a shower earlier today? On top of everything else I've treated you for."
"Moderate? No, I'm fine," I answer in a stone-hard voice. "I just got lightheaded from the water being so hot." He cocks an intrigued eyebrow at me, like I'm so interesting. I cock one back. "If I had a seizure, don't you think I'd be worse off right now?"
"Well, perhaps." He takes a flashlight and peels open my eyelid to shine it in. I draw back, but Milady's voice halts me. "That's why I'm so enthralled with this call. You've seemed to recover in short time." He thumbs my fingers, between the knuckles, to where my claws pop out on command. "Extraordinary!" His voice startles us all.
I flinch away, taking my hand and hiding it under my arm. "What?!"
Yukino jumps from my reaction, "Huh?!"
The doctor points at my fingers. "Your tips of your fingers are patched with purple or black…hues. Skin discoloration."
"I have circulation problems. So?" My voice comes out a little defensive, but convincing enough so he won't see through my half-truth. I can feel my magic pulsating through my head again.
"Raynaud's, correct?" He scribbles on a notepad. "I've never seen it so extreme!" When I peek over at what the hell is so important that requires almost a full minute of writing, he sits upright so quickly that I flinch back. "Are you cold at the moment?"
I blink slowly. "No." It's a lie.
"Stressed?"
"No." Lie.
"Tired?"
"I just slept." Another lie.
"Sexually deprived? Lonely? Depressed?"
"What?"
"I hear around that you're typically a quieter person. It's an honor you're speaking so freely with me."
Freely? "Uh... Okay…?" I glance at Sting, and he shrugs, just as dumbfounded as I am. "Look, I don't even know who you—"
"What interests me is you, Mr. Cheney. Your power, your claws, your healing factor…"
Lector chuckles. "I thought doctors were supposed to be caretakers, not mad scientists."
"Fro thinks so, too." Frosch raises a paw as he checks my healing arm and ribs. By now, my black eye is more of a purple splotch under my eye. He motions for me to open my mouth and checks the tooth that was pulled. I already took care of it before—who really wants to walk around with a missing tooth?—and when he sees the new tooth there, he shrieks. "Fro?"
"What?" I ask, annoyed with all the noise, and pull Frosch closer.
He brings a magnifying glass to my face and leans into my personal space. I can smell his magic activating. "Such resilience after that such trauma! Your tooth has regrown in only two weeks' span!" He hovers the glass over my elbow, and I can see the bone. "Your fractured bones are reduced to hairlines! There seems to be nothing that could have caused the seizure! Skin pigment, normal. No abnormal dilation of the pupils."
He whips out a stethoscope and places it over my chest.
"Heart rate, normal." The cold metal plate touches my back. "Lung capacity, normal." With a tongue depressor, he pries open my mouth and almost gags me with it.
I break into a coughing fit and swat him away.
"There's nothing wrong with you!" He snatches my face with both hands and gets even closer. "Do you know what this means?!"
"Uh, no," I make out the best I can despite my face being squished. Sting stares dubiously at him, the way someone would gape at a complete idiot. Unamused. Usually he'd be cracking up right now. Yukino blinks curiously between before Milady shakes her head and takes her leave with Orga. "And I don't really care—"
"The rumors are true! You regenerate!"
"So, what—"
"Let me study you."
"What? No."
"You must let me study you!" From past experiences, saying yes has never ended well. "You must come with me!"
"We already have other things to worry about," Yukino speaks up. "Starting with the man who did this to him."
"He's still looking for that man?" Rufus asks. I pull my face back and push the doctor away again. "How persistent. To go through all this trouble to find one person. You think he's going to keep this up much longer?"
"Yes," I say before I can stop it.
Lector's tail wiggles in the air. "Bad guys don't just throw their hands up when they've lost." My ears heat up, realizing I've let this become about them, too. I've endangered them.
"No one's getting Rogue," Sting says. It's always odd to see him so serious; but then again, it's me. We are both different people when the other one's involved. My heart speeds up, hearing my brother's tone, hearing that now he's leapt into the center of this wasteland I've created for myself.
I have to stop Arian before anyone else tries anything.
"I'll ensure your absolute safety." Like Rufus said, the doctor's persistent. He branches out his arms in a theatrical way as he speaks on and on about some hush-hush research procedure. I put my hand up to pause him.
"I think I'll pass." With that, I pick up Frosch and place him on my shoulder. "What I am holds no significance. Are we finished here?" Before he can answer, I wobble to my feet and walk out.
##
Apparently, Gajeel's in Crocus, and has been for the past two days. No mission, no errands. Just walking. I heard it from Lector when he came to our room to sleep on Sting's bed during the afternoon. I guess that explains why my nose burned from that shitty Axe spray he uses. I thought it was just part of a sad dream. Maybe that was my mind trying to protect me from knowing he's close by, trying to guard me from the possibility of being rejected again. But it shouldn't matter. He has his life. I have mine. He's probably busy or something, and I understand that.
Still, I can't help but feel a bit…hurt.
Is it bad to miss a person who's got the same blood as you, even though he clearly does not particularly want you to? What's worse is I vowed not too long ago that I'd stop missing people who don't give a damn about me. But is it different when it's your blood-related brother? I drop the book to my lap and lean back against the pillow, my thumb running through Frosch's fur. The guild voted my bedrest for the entire day, so it's not like I can go off on my own. Not like I have anywhere to go. I haven't seen Kagura since last night. By the time I came to, her scent was gone. Vanished, as if she never came to the guild.
To be completely honest, the aftermath of last night is far from pleasant. My love for her—for this relationship and what we are—races up and down without pause. I don't like the way it feels. It's dishonest, unaffectionate, and painful. We're built solely on lust and concealed anger mistaken for romance. But that's the thing about us; I love her. Despite the cheating, the lying, the fighting, the pain, the rage, the tears…I still love her somewhere, somehow. It's not because of the sex, the laughs we share, or our years-long relationship. It's because…only a few can truly love a dragon-slayer.
And that's the sad part. The sadder part is that I can't say either of us are satisfied.
Speaking of sad, Daryk walks by my door and stops at the threshold. I pretend to be busy with tending to Frosch until he leaves. That's how I know I'm not as brave as others state. Is bravery even associated with killing a guildmate or even threatening to? Or is it really pure malice? Am I too merciful that I can't bring myself to hurt Daryk or am I still too weak to fully defend myself? These berating thoughts make my head spin. A stroll around town should mend it. So, I place Frosch aside and kick my legs out the blankets. Since Gajeel's around here, I'll journey to the other side of town. Why create more conflict and tension? I'm just going to walk around the block or something, walk off the stiffness in my legs and back. Get some fresh air to ease my head.
The second the soles of my feet brush against the polyester carpet, Rufus comes strolling through the open door. He pauses when we meet eyes. His shoulders sag when he sighs. "I know," I say, grabbing a sweater and pants. I snatch a yellow bandana and tie my bangs out of my face. "I shouldn't be out of bed, my body needs rest, and Sting'll be pissed if he sees me on my feet."
But instead of lecturing, he walks over and holds his hand out to me, smiling. "Then we should get going."
I cock a brow. "Why am I suspicious?"
"Oh, stop being so stiff and let me help you." He takes my hand and pulls me up swiftly, catching my balance with a steady hand on my back. I nod my thanks and step into my pajama pants. "Madam Aena is about to speak, you know." He turns and starts for the door when my voice halts him.
"About what?"
"You."
"Me?"
"Well," he says, scowling in thought, "you and the people you said attacked you. She contacted her partner while you were sleeping. That older gentleman with that ghastly scar down his face."
"Shatner?" We walk side-by-side down the stairs. "Why?" That old man visits the guilds around Fiore sometimes to check up on things, like Aena. The guy who makes sure the guildmasters are taking care of paperwork; makes sure the members are behaving and contributing and whatnot. Needless to say, Sting isn't exactly their biggest fan. They can literally barge in and order us around until they leave. But they cannot stay for long. "We're all adults here. I think I can fix my own problems."
"Well, she wanted a second opinion." Rufus twirls a strand of hair around a white-gloved finger. "What happened wasn't a pretty thing, and she has to settle it before it swells."
"It's not like anyone asked her for babysitting. We're a guild, not a daycare," I growl. "I handled it myself. It's over." There's irony in my words. By handled, I mean struck fear and received nothing more than distrust. Handled meaning a near-loss of control. "It'd be different if my magic was emitted without purpose or if there was mass damage caused. But that's not the case." Rufus gives me an amused look; I squint so hard that his image becomes blurred. "What?"
He lowers his head so that the tip of his hat falls over one eye. "You don't think it'd be better to let Sting and the overseers take care of it?"
I narrow my eyes. "No. Grigia made this about me, so I'll leave it that way. Least until there's another opportunity to kick his ass. Besides," I pass him on the stairs. "Sting's done too much for me."
He chuckles heartily as I step onto the base. "Glad to see your stubborn attitude is still intact. That episode in the shower should've made you at least a bit more complying," he says, tossing his hands up and waltzing past me.
All eyes turn on me. A chill runs down my spine. They're not welcoming, fearful, or menacing. Just…looking. Inspecting the new bruise next to the purple bulge under my eye and the pink five-fingered mark wrapping around my neck. Waiting for any reaction I may give when I set my eyes on Grigia or Daryk. But I let them see nothing and take my place standing beside Yukino and one of the new mages whose name escapes me. She inches slowly away from me, adrift in her own thoughts, probably, so I whisper, "You look like you've seen a ghost."
She hops in shock and turns to me quickly. "O-oh, Rogue! I'm glad to see you're awake." We receive a few shushes, even though others are talking much louder. "How're you feeling?"
"Better, thanks." I let my eyes wander around the crowded meeting hall. "Wonder what kind of nonsense the old lady's gonna spew."
"I'm…not sure. Honestly, I barely know what happened. Are you okay?"
"Fine," I say, simply. "All I know is that the people who jumped me better watch their backs." I glance over my shoulder to see if Milady or Sting are here, too. "I think Madam Aena hates my guts, anyway."
We both stare at the empty stage, aside from the podium, ill arranged in the middle of our meeting room. "All the evidence proves you innocent, right? That's what I heard from Rufus."
"Evidence doesn't quite align dragon-slayers and the law. You know that."
She pulls on my sleeve until I look down at her. "Well, we all believe you're innocent. Milady, Sting, Orga, and Rufus. We know, and we know you. You're innocent."
"Reckless, but innocent." My eyes flick up to Orga behind us, who simply grins widely at me. "Don't scowl so hard, Rogue. You'll get wrinkles by the time you're four hundred!"
"That's in, what, two years?"
Aena's parched voice cuts between us like a rusted blade. "Quiet down. Now, I assume you all have heard about some minor conflict within the guild."
Minor? There was nothing minor about it. If it was a minor issue, I would not have to use my magic. I wouldn't have these bruises. I squint and pull a face that makes Yukino hold her hand to her mouth with a small laugh.
"Between me, Councilman Shatner, and Master Sting, it has been decided that Rogue Cheney…" Eyes slide back to me—"is to be pardoned for his reckless outrage of magic use—"
"Outrage?!" I blurt out.
Aena looks down her nose at me, the shadow induced by her thick brow line making her look more sinister and calculating than she actually. "Yes. Reckless, stupid, disgraceful outrage."
Just when I make a move to charge toward her, Rufus and Yuki both pull me in different directions, willing me to look at them. But I'm focused on Aena, and she is focused on me. "You're making it seem like I—"
"Rogue! Rogue," Yukino hushes me. When I look at her, she holds her finger to her lips. Aena scowls at me; the bruised skin on my face sears and I can feel my nostrils flare.
Clearing her throat as if to further aggravate me, and it works, she continues in that same honeyed voice, "Also, Grigia Becker, Adelphi Tillman, and Daryk Rusk are excused for engaging in the fight, as they have acted in self-defense."
"Can't win all the battles, I suppose," Rufus says, nudging me. Passive habit makes me go calm—dead calm. No blistering desire for justice, no blind rage, and not even a speckle of the urge to wonder mindlessly woe is me. Justice, I'll admit, is tempting, but what is more appeasing is to be the one to administer it. But there's no reason to cause anyone harm anymore.
"However…"
"Here we go," I mutter. Orga, Yuki, and Rufus turn to me automatically. I know already what she is going to say. There are some of the council's security standing behind her. Five, actually.
"All four of them are to be under forty-eight-hour surveillance for trespassing. You cannot leave the guild's perimeter." Her gray eyes direct towards me, so I frown back. "Forty-eight hours. You will stay in the guild and go nowhere else." She lifts her chin to me in victorious, proud authority. "Dismissed."
The crowd starts dissipating like scattering ants. But for a moment, I remain. The vehement urge to flip her off is bothersome, subsiding when I catch Sting's eyes. We both give each other comforting looks, trading apologies for things completely out of our hands. It'd be wise to just roll with the punches and get it over with. Take it like an adult. By the dullness to the indigo of his eyes, he too sees the unfairness in Aena's decision. But what can we do? I sigh heavily and turn on my heel to leave. Two of the guards soon follow and stand behind my closed door.
—tomorrow—
When I open the door, the two heavyset men stare at me like I've spat on the country's flag. Through their black helmets are two sets of cold eyes. I look between them, waiting for them to move. Batting my eyes at them, tauntingly, I ask, "Can I go to the bathroom?" Without waiting, I brush past them and around the corner. One of them follows me all the way to the urinal. I roll my eyes when he stands right next to me. "Take a picture or back off," I snap and flush, pushing him away with my elbow.
He watches me go to the sink as if there's something in the faucet other than water.
"So, how is this going to work? Do you need a DNA sample to make sure I'm still the same person?"
"No," the man says directly. "I only have orders to watch you for the time being. It is my duty to ensure you follow the rules and limits set by your master, Madam Aena, and the Councilman."
I whip around and advance towards him, getting close enough to spot graying hairs in his mustache. But he remains with both feet firmly rooted to the floor and both eyes firmly planted on me. "Look. You—"
"Any attempt to escape my surveillance or cause harm to a guard of the Magic Council is punishable by immediate arrest and imprisonment without trial by jury for 6 months. Possible execution within 3 months if you make me bleed, as stated by the Reassurance Act."
I step down. "Persuasive."
"I assumed you were going to attack. It was necessary."
"Maybe I was going to invite you to a tea party in my room."
"I thought Sting Eucliffe was the smart-ass between the two of you."
"That's Master Sting Eucliffe to you. I just don't like you." I flash a smile and take my leave, bumping his shoulder on the way out. He's got height over me, but my body is filled with indestructible metal. It's like brushing past a sheer curtain.
Outside is complete havoc; people are screaming and howling as if Sabertooth's won the Super Bowl.
The newest member Zenith sees me first and beckons me towards him. The guard behind me tells me I'm free to walk around as I please, but as if I need his approval. "What's going on?" I ask him.
"Grigia's challenging you! Come see!" Zenith tugs me by the arm through the hopping crowd surrounding the job board. In the dead center is my terrible unsmiling ID picture for the guild registration three years ago. Grigia and the others made sure to humiliate me prior to the appointment time, evident in the slight, circular bruise around my eye. He had thrown an apple directly at my face to see how long it would take for me to burst into tears. By the hollowness and hatred in my dangerous, unblinking eyes, the only thing on my mind was Grigia's neck. There were times I decided to let him have a taste of my…skills in the past; but that day, I was through taking his shit sitting down. "See? He's really asking for it." Zenith points at the knife lodged between my eyebrows. In sharpie across my face reads:
DIABLO
5pm training room.
Bring your cameras.
I yank the knife out and let the paper fall, the crowd uproars in excitement. "What is this, middle school?" I hiss at Zenith, who has already taken a good few steps from me.
"Well, he's hardcore," is his response. "You know Grigia."
Daryk almost mumbles from my side, "And he loves an audience." I frown at him without a single word until he loses his nerve and turns away.
I sigh, making brief eye contact with the same guard from across the room. He watches me and the knife meticulously, ready to pounce, so I drop the knife to the floor and hold my hands for him to see. "If he wants to kick my ass, then he should come up to me now and try." Heading to the stairs to the guard, I growl, "This is ridiculous."
I'm already in enough hot water. Why go looking for trouble? Sting's going through hell to make sure the Council won't chop my head off. I can't make his job any harder. What kind of brother would do that? Grigia's just wanting to get under my skin again.
For Christ's sake, we just buried Finn. We should spend our time paying our respects to him and consoling his family. And telling the truth…
"Yo, Cheney!" I stop, hand on the banister, and roll my eyes all the way back in my head. "You forgot your picture!" I glare at him over my shoulder. At the base, the very heart of the crowd, stands Grigia with my horrible picture in his hand. His face stretches wide in a sneer when he chops off my head with scissors. "I actually like this picture of you, man. It's suitable."
"Really?" I lean against the wall, gathering patience to no avail. "That why you keep it in your room?" The crowd hoots and guffaws, numerous hands tugging at my arm and slapping my back. See, I know what the average person would think. Why the hell am I—someone on house arrest who quite recently escaped execution in a nearby town—doing this? Engaging in another fight is suicide. But if it's Grigia, I'd repeat all of Madam Aena's lectures, every one of Jiemma's punishments just to ring his neck dry.
He ascends the stairs, as if offended, and gets in my face. "You must be real scared of me to be watching my every move."
I step up to him. His solid six-feet stature towers over me, but again, my body is composed of metal that could crush his skull if I give a hard-enough swing. "Aw, you think I'm watching you?" The guard grabs at my arm, but I shake him off.
"Freaks do what they do. Can't stop them."
"Likewise. So, kneel and suck." It's as if Sting is trapped inside me, speaking his words through my voice. "And from what I can tell from your breath, you already have." Screams ricochet off the walls.
"You won't be saying that when I kick your ass. Just like old times." More screams.
I chuckle and cross my arms. "I'll bend over and drop my pants so you can kiss it, too. Just like the other night." The crowd loses their minds, jumping, clapping hands, and shouting like banshees.
Beneath the hollering, Grigia growls at me, "Try not to cry this time." His breath slams against my cheeks when he snickers. My fists ball, but I keep my mouth shut. With that, he roughly shoves me hard to the wall and stalks off.
Someone to my left announces that he never thought I'd ever say what I did. A woman to the right shrieks in anticipation of our scheduled fight. People pass around the betting pool, debating on who is going to win—from the previous time we dueled hand-to-hand, the answer is spelled out in broad letters. But this go-round, I will not hold back.
He tried to kill me.
So, I'll return the favor and withhold all mercy.
