Ch. 16: The Mark Rogue
"Deep breaths," I tell Yukino low enough to pass as private conversation, as we enter a palatial mansion. There are white marble flooring, pearl-colored walls, and mahogany tables. The ceiling is neatly painted with angels and clouds and gold light. It's its own kaleidoscope of heaven's colors, laced with placid beams of shimmering light coiled around every decorative pillar in sync with a vine of synthetic crisp leaves. I almost forget that we're here for business, not sight-seeing—and it doesn't help that Yukino's citrus scent keep reducing my meticulous sense to a euphoric calm.
The night is still and cool, wisps of Dom Perignon curling the space. Perfect for intruding a nobleman's party. I flash our false invitations at the guards and lead Yukino inside, down a scarlet carpet bordered by forty Tiffany blue crystal lotuses.
"Pull me over there," I whisper in her ear. She jolts once, but listens. "And fix my tie."
She nods. With a shaky hand, she pulls me to the side and tangles her polished fingers in the satin. Two manicured brows draw down in dedication. "How're you feeling today? Good?" As she speaks, I pull out my pocketknife and prick my finger. The metallic stench shoots straight up my nose, and instantly my focus returns.
I shove my knife back in my pocket just as she turns, spots it, and sends a worried frown my way. "Well, how are you? I deflect, clearing my throat. She gives me an insisting stare. I shake my head and study the room over her head. "How're you doing?"
"I'm…okay."
"You haven't stopped shaking since we turned the corner." I glance at her quickly.
Her nerves are evident in the distressed lines forming at her brow, in the clutching of my sleeve. "We're in a room full of strangers. And a crazy man."
I shrug. "And the moon's in Cancer."
Her palm whacks against my chest. "Don't…" She sighs, and loops my tie. Her milky chocolate eyes cascade to a chestnut hue as she swallows and pinches her colored lips together. "I've never sabotaged anything before. Look at my hands—you're right. I'm trembling. I hope I'm not sweating too much. How're you not sweating—"
"Say supercalifragilisticexpialidocious." I cast my gaze to the right, then left to scan the area, glancing at the orchestra playing elegant music. Couples start swerving around us. After giving me a puzzled gaze, Yukino's eyes follow suit. I flatten my tone and say, "It helps." She glances dubiously at me, like I've just revealed the key to eternal life is drinking a gallon of olive oil. I turn my head to her and lift my eyebrows, expecting, and then—as tradition states—formally bow to her, smoothly uncurling my hand to her. Staring at her, I tell her, "Say it."
She gently places a weightless hand in mine, and I wrap my fingers around it. "Supercalifragilisticexpialidocious…?" The light returns to her irises when she lets out a chuckle. With a white gloved hand, she brushes some of her hair behind an ear. I watch her the entire time, even as she drops her eyes to her shoes. "That's how you're so calm right now?"
I give a slight nod. "I've had my share of missions like this. Just breathe and follow my lead," I say, taking the first step. She nods, letting me lead her in a simple sway. Her thin hand settles on my back with a touch that's light, but full of trust. I pull her closer and place my hand on the small of her back, just where the fabric of her dress ends. The air surrounding us becomes fuller as she settles in against my body. If I could build up my confidence, I could say something better than: "You look nice." But it's all I got.
Yukino jumps out of her peach dress and stares at the gold ring on her middle finger. "Oh! Thanks. I feel…floaty, if that makes sense."
I raise my eyebrows, scanning the room over her head again. "I'll take it."
"You look nice, too."
I laugh a little, spinning her gently. "Don't be so stiff."
"Sorry. I'm a little nervous."
"Say the word again."
"No. I've…just never danced with a man before."
"Well, it'd help if you weren't gawking at me like this is a Twilight movie."
"Those movies were good!"
"Yeah… No."
"To each their own..." She lifts her eyes and smirks playfully. "You should wear your hair back like that more often. Maybe next time to impress a lady…?"
The name is stuck in the back of her throat and I can hear it perfectly. But I feign ignorance and nonchalance by breaking eye contact. "Bold today?"
"I remember what you did at the last Grand Ball," she says, a smile in her voice.
"You should've just told him." Sting. I pushed her into him right when the oldies came on with full knowledge that my brother would snatch the nearest person for a dance. "But don't worry. I already told him for you."
Her soft face drops to a gawking stare, a silent fur growing inside her. Her cheeks turn the color of Lector's fur to hide the immense yearn to shoot something witty remark back at me.
I smirk. "What?"
She hits my chest, never stopping our dance. "I cannot believe you!"
"Kidding." I roll my eyes, laughing, and then turn to the crowd, scanning the area. "His name is Kroff Ortega," I say, matter-of-factly. "About 35 to 40. Blondish brown hair kept short. Brown eyes. He's a pretty big guy, so if you see him, be careful."
"I'll hold off as long as I can. If he tries to run," Yukino says, pausing when I spin her out and reel her back in, "I won't have a choice but to chase him. Right?"
"Might be the case," I add. "Sometimes, it might be better to let him go." And I'll definitely catch him.
"Okay. I'll have to make a quick decision if it comes down to it. I understand." The music hits its bridge and increases in volume, violins' humming ricochet off the decorated walls. She brings her pink-painted lips to my ear against the noise. "Please be careful with your magic. You're a vital part of this mission."
"Noted," I say as she pulls away. My hand places safely on her hip, swaying her along with me. "I'm relying on my nose, but the perfume and cologne makes it a little hard."
"I'm surprised you're not sneezing." I chuckle. She falls back into step and lets me lead her. As if without any effort, her feet step with mine, her body aligned with mine. "Let's see who can find him first, then."
"Oh, sure. Just 'cause I have a handicap."
She laughs. "Or one of us can create a diversion while the other sniffs out Ortega."
"A diversion?"
"Mm-hm." Her eyes beam up at me. "And I'll find the target."
"And what am I supposed to do as your diversion?"
"Well, you can tap dance, right?"
"And you can twerk." I lift her on my hip and spin her a few times, one of her hands across my back while the other is outstretched elegantly. With the wave of her dress, she appears to be in flight. "You're not funny."
"You're not funny either."
"Yuki." She laughs as I place her safely back on her feet and continue the dance with everyone else in the room. Her body is defined finely by the satin dress, the peach color complementing her soft creamy skin and adding a graceful saturation to her white-blue hair. I just barely stop myself from peeking at her chest by averting my attention to the scent of our target. Right when I nearly take it in, it evades me under the citrus from Yuki, sweat from the next couple, old sex from the pair by the shrimp fiasco, and a synergy of alcohol and moist breath from the mass at the bar. I dip Yukino back, leaning in, and hold her there as she extends an arm over her head, fingers hovering over the marble floor. "Loser pays twenty."
She brings her head up with a smile. "Twenty-five."
"Thirty."
"Thirty, it is."
"Be safe. Be smart." I reel her up and, with a parting twirl, she vanishes behind the crowd. I wait until I spot a head of blueish-white hair reappear to go to investigating. Yuki can hold her own, I know, so it's not like I have to constantly call in. Next: Kroff Ortega. My magic flutters under my skin. Cracking my knife open just enough to press my thumb to the blade again, I narrow my eyes, scanning.
A dancing couple knocks me to the side. I mutter an apology and move to the corner by a white, decorated pillar. My eyes tag on the couple, watching them sway and swing, totally in sync. Their eyes never leave each other's.
Before I can process it, my teeth clench, so I turn away and snatch a drink from a strolling waiting tray. Without hesitation, I throw it back—recklessly, but who gives a damn right now. Champagne sears my nostrils and throat, sparing me a moment from the memory of my terrible luck with romance.
A familiar rustic scent shoots up my nose. His scent. I remember it looming over me after our 'special' mission—though, I'm not at all worried that he'll recognize me. I trust my skills. My magic, however… Nothing is certain. I ease my head to note the area behind me, where it's coming from, without being obvious. He has to be somewhere close—I just have to find him. I turn on my heel and start making my way to his smell when I accidentally bump into a gentle-looking woman. Her scent is…familiar, too. Is it? "Oh," I say, "I'm so sorry."
She holds up a dismissive hand when I stabilize her. "It's quite all right, darling." I place my hands at my sides, seeing that I technically did not need to catch her. "Mr. Rogue Cheney, correct? Of Sabertooth?"
"Uh, yes, ma'am." I remove my glove and try to soften my face with the world's tiniest smile, praying I don't look too ridiculous. She's actually quite stunning. Has to be in her 30's or 40's. "May I ask your name?"
She smiles calmly and places her thin hand in mine. "Galina."
"It's a pleasure to meet you, but I'm afraid I have to—"
"You're going to introduce yourself and then leave?" She gives me a tempting smirk. "Quite bold of you. Did your mother teach you any manners?"
I break eye contact and laugh a little. "Oh. How…embarrassing." My first thought is: Shit, I'm trapped. But then again, pairing up with a woman for a while would make me less detectable. I do need to get to work; and I shouldn't leave a woman on the dance floor alone, too. So, I straighten my blazer and bow to her, offering my hand to her. "I'm sorry. May I have this dance?"
She curtsies and takes my hand. Through two songs, I lead with a sturdy but light hand on her back, careful to keep my fingers on the fabric of her dress only. My eyes remain vigilant. For the most part, she talks about trips around the world, men after men, old grievances. But one part catches my full attention. "A man of few words, hm?"
"Sorry." I look down at her. "My mind is a bit preoccupied."
She hums and leans into my ear. "You never change."
A slight frown creases on my brow. "Have…we met before?" Her smile expands, and she pulls me close in an uncomfortable embrace. "Oh, uh…" I slowly place my hands on her shoulders, hoping I had not said anything rude. Something Kagura always reminds me of.
"I never thought I'd see you again." Her long-nailed finger presses directly on the scar just by my pelvis. My ugly wound. Graduation. "I was afraid you hated me." Every part of me gives immediate pause. "I'm happy you're well, Ryos."
I hold my breath, easing my grip on her. "Madam V?"
Her smile manifests into something…different. I'm not sure. Eerie? She snakes close to my ear again. "I was wondering when you'd realize." I rip away from her, trembling. "Don't be so shocked." Hearing that same haunting tone, I back up again when she steps closer, opening her arms that are coated in lace. Lace that's ready to grab me. I can feel it. The bed. The shackles. The frigid-ness. "Hear me out." No. "I did what I had to do." I shake my head. "I did that to protect you."
I shake my head, again, unable to find my voice. My scar burns, like it's being cut into all over again. I place my hand over it, desperately, to alleviate the pain. Her lips keep moving, but all I can hear is myself hyperventilating. I need to get away from her. She makes another move towards me, and I dart off, loosening my tie well before I get to the door. I tear through the air as quickly as possible, brushing, shoving, squeezing past people, children, orchestra members. Despite the curses and stares, I don't stop.
The rustic scent appears again in a whiff. I bump into someone and a burning sensation sears through the flat of my hand. "Agh!" I yank my arm to my body. "What the…" Charred skin penetrates my nostrils. When I turn around, there's no one there. A man leading his wife casts me a long stare and cocks a thick eyebrow at my gaping. My heart races a million miles per second, but I force myself into the corner of the room, away from shoving bodies. I rip my phone from my blazer pocket and press speed dial.
"Rogue, hi. Where are—"
"Where are you?" My burnt hand quivers, red outlining the brown, dead skin. I hiss against the air that teases the afflicted, raw area. Blood starts to pool at the site.
"You sound hurt. What happened?!"
I grit my teeth, harden my tone. "Where are you?"
"Wait, please. I'll come to you."
"Dammit, Yukino!" My voice echoes. "Where are you?!"
There's a short pause. "The north exit. Rogue, you're scaring me—"
"Stay there." I hang up. A certain tenseness grips my temples and irks me to check the area to my right. I glance subtly in said direction to see a petite woman whispering to a tall man up on the balcony overlooking the ballroom. They both set their eyes on me. I fade into the crowd, removing my blazer and toss it in a shadow portal. Still kneeling, I scratch at my scalp to revive my hair from the gel's hold. I tie my tie around my wound, and sneak around to the other side of the dance floor, watching to make sure the two lost me. Eventually, I make it to the garden and begin towards Yuki's location.
##
Yukino gives the bandage wrap a studying pull. The sting grips my palm, and I jolt. "Egh!"
"Sorry," she says, sympathetically. I shake my head to ease her worries.
"Thankfully, that's all you got away with," Lady Minerva says, watching Yukino secure the bandage with a knot. The sting settles to an unrelenting throb. I nod in gratitude to her and close my fist to test. "You said you didn't see who did this?"
"Right," I say, wincing as I open my hand again. "I did smell Ortega, but I can't be sure. He could've just been in the area."
"I didn't see anyone coming from where you were," Yukino adds, unlatching the clip from her hair and shaking out the locks. The white rose is placed on the nightstand.
Madam V intrudes my mind, but she couldn't have done this. I ran a good distance from her before it happened. Why was she there anyway? The day I evaded Arian was the day I cut all connections with Red Room. I changed my name. I relocated countries away. How could she have found me? How is she still alive? "Thanks, Yuki. I should be getting to bed now." I bow to the princess, "Milady," and leave the room before any more questions can be asked.
Once I get to my room, I shut the door and close the sliding wall separating my room from Sting's. Frosch and Lector don't budge from his bed, cuddled up and snoring. I flick on the desk lamp and unwrap my hand to see if I can will it to heal. But once the bandages are off, I freeze. Where I'd seen a ring-like shape moments ago, I now see: послушный. Poslushnyy. Russian for 'obedient.' Across the raised, damaged word is a horizontal line, a deeper red than the rest as if it had just been sliced. "What the hell?" I whisper. Finn's voice echoes in my head immediately, asking what the word was on his phone. I stare at the line. What's not conforming? But what I really want to know is why Finn was asking me about the word. Why does Grigia have it tattooed on his body?
Slowly, I slide down and sit against the frame of my bed, beaten down from a night of unpleasantries. Even though I haven't figured everything out yet, seeing this mark on my body strikes too close to home. I'm not accepted. Obedience is necessary to existing in a family, to cooperating with friends and comrades. To being likeable, even. That broad line across the term says it all. My kind isn't able to be human beings—but even among us dragons, I'm the monster that doesn't belong, and never will. But didn't I already know that? The mark stings, but this time I don't cover it up.
As I close my eyes, I hear Madam V's voice: What do you treasure most?
