Regia Barracks, Norn, 18:35
The clatter of knives and forks filled the bustling hubbub of the other ranks' mess. Chatter peppered the tight-knit rows of gunners squeezed against one another on benches, digging as much with fingers as they were with cutlery. Through the open hatches, apron-clad grunts consigned to mess-duty slapped slop-filled ladles on to waiting gunners' mess trays. Flies buzzed around.
I know exactly how you feel, mate. I slid my full tray along the rails, grinning to myself. Doing the shit jobs.
Gun Four's crew: Samuel, Kerris, and Art perched on the endmost table with their identical trays of grey mush. "Sorry, mate. Umm… might need to find somewhere else," Art said.
Samuel snorted and flicked a speck of food at my jacket. Kerris ignored me and picked at his food.
"Where…?" I muttered. There wasn't a free seat in sight, just masses of dark blue berets.
"Go on, piss off, Crow." Samuel sneered.
Are you going to stay there with them, Art?
"Sarn't Reimer closing fast," Kerris blurted, keeping his head down.
What's a non-com doing in our mess? I stared at the three white stripes skirting the worst of the upheave. Reimer was followed by Wenrok and Stazak. All being NCOs, they really had no business at all in the OR's mess.
"Larn. Stay." A curt Reimer said.
Sod, I'm not a dog. I shifted my hands along to cooler parts of the tray. Bloody treat me like a human being, why don't you?
"Tonight, as we are at week's end, Gun Four has liberty. This will work on a rotation, with respective crews each having one evening's liberty per month."
"This 'cause we got the gun back, wasn't it?" Slobber dripped from Samuel's chin. "Bloody showed the Brass Hats how it's done, didn't we?" Stazak paid Samuel a blistering glare and flexed the fingers on his good hand.
"Each one of you is eligible for liberty tonight. Anyone that wishes to sit out speak to Bombardier Stazak. You'll be receiving your orientation in twenty-two minutes' time, so scarf your scran down quick as you can. That's all."
"You not coming out then, Bomb?" Kerris tried to poke at Stazak's bandaged hand.
"Got admin to do," Stazak grunted. "Emperor knows how I'm getting it done with this paw."
"Need both hands where we're going." Samuel chortled. "You heading out on the pull with us, Wen?"
"I'm game, gunners." Wenrok shrugged. "Someone's gotta keep your dicks out the wrong holes."
"Aw, you'd know about wrong holes, wouldn't you, Wen?" Art laughed through a mouthful. "Speaking of Haven…"
Samuel flicked a spoonful at Art, landing a stain on his jumper. "That's enough from you, son, save it for the pillow natter later."
"Pfft, just the skip that bit. I'm in and out like a rocket. Present the next one!" Kerris thumped his fist on the table, rattling the plates and cutlery.
"What 'bout him." Samuel jabbed his knife at me. "Tell me he's not riding with us tonight."
"Private Larn is unofficially part of Gun Four—"
"Oh what, Bomb?!"
"You heard. Don't interrupt me, Gunner. It is down to Private Larn. If he so chooses, he may head out on liberty tonight in your company."
Hands smarting from the tray, I met Art's eye. He nodded and returned to his food. "Yeah, Bombardier."
"Wiry's not happy, y'know," Samuel said. "Oi, you listening to me?"
"Larn, there's a space just down the opposite row. Scarf your dinner down and follow Gun Four out of the mess once we're done. Iggery now."
"Better pray your transfer comes through quick, Crow. Wiry's in the Glasshouse right now thinking of you."
"I'll wait for him," I retorted. What does Crow mean?
"Larn, go where you're told," Stazak growled. "Move it."
Had better food at Butcher's Rock, I thought, dipping my spoon underneath the grey surface once I had found a seat. Pressed in between two broad shoulders, I took down the lukewarm slop in sips, leaving only gristly dregs sitting at the bottom by the time Art and the other gunners finished up, whereupon I left my plate and followed them out of the mess.
"So, what's the…?" I caught up with Art. "What's the…?"
"Oh, that stuff they serve us?" Art scratched his cheek. "Heh, sometimes it's real meat, sometimes it's slab."
"Huh? N-no, what's Crow mean?"
"Aw, don't pay no attention to Samuel, man." Art slowed his pace. Samuel, Kerris, Wenrok, and Stazak were chatting up ahead and within earshot. "Alright, give 'em some room." Art took my arm and lowered his voice. "He's harmless without Wyrig, he is. Don't worry about Samuel, let's just have some fun tonight."
"Erm… I dunno about this, Art."
"Look, I'll talk to my mate in Stores, he'll loan you some mufti."
"You what?"
"We're out in plainclothes tonight, James. You haven't got anything else to wear, have you?"
"Just what I'm wearin' now."
"Right, I'll set you up then."
"Don't bother."
"Oh, don't be a little bitch about it. Show Samuel and that that you don't give a shit, they'll think better of you."
"I dunno 'bout that, mate."
"Well, they won't think any worse of you if you come out." Art punched my shoulder playfully. "Hey, big night tonight. Spend it with some big-breasted bint in the sack."
"Hmm." I glanced away at a radiator close to the floor. A patch of damp darkened the wall behind it. Rust coated the copper pipes.
"It's a rite of passage, pal. Better sooner than later, huh?"
"I don't – I don't want to pay, Art."
"James, you're not paying a single credit. I've got it covered."
"…Art, I didn't mean that."
"Look come along, James. You might change your mind when you see the girls. It is girls, yeah…?"
I looked Art squarely in the eye. "Yes, Art."
"Pfft, no problem then. Just follow me, James, I'll keep you on the straight and narrow."
Sergeant Reimer's orientation offered the five of us a choice of whorehouses and taverns in the Orange Sector, as well as providing a supply of prophylactics. "Right, I know you're all itching to get out there and stick your instruments of joy wherever they shouldn't be, but you will pay attention to what I say next, gunners. Everything on the western bank – the Green Sector – is off-limits. You are out of bounds if you cross the river. Entering a building in the Orange Sector – be it a flesh-den or a hab – I have not specified on this list is out of bounds. You have been warned. It will not be me out for you in the morning but military police. They, unlike me, will not be gentle with you, so be back before reveille tomorrow. Before, not after, or you will be in detention for a very long time."
A foot slipped through the gap in the seat I was sitting on and kicked at me.
"Sarn't, what size are they?" Wenrok pointed at the shiny packet sitting on the table in front of Reimer.
"One last thing. Do not fall afoul of the LVF. They are plainclothes paramilitaries, so don't be alarmed if you see civilians openly carrying weapons. They are on our side. That is all you need know." Reimer slid a paper map across the table. "Be sure to orient yourself frequently using street signs and landmarks. Do not get blind drunk and – for the love of the Emperor – check your protection for damage before you use it."
"Have fun, boys." Wenrok took the map and pocketed it. "Switch to civvies and meet out in the yard in ten."
Ignoring the poke from Samuel, I followed Art to the billet and took a set of old clothes he had piled beside his kitbag. "Sorry if the sizing's not right. I didn't have time to pick and choose. Just in and out, that's it."
I picked up the jumper and trousers and sniffed. "Sure?"
"Aaah, they're nice and clean. Don't worry, James."
"Shoes?"
"Mmm, can't really help you there, pal. Doesn't matter, just wear your boots. It'll be dark. Nobody will see you."
"…Good of you."
"Uh?"
"Good of you," I said, louder.
"Ooh, something else…" Art dived in to his kitbag. "Just a quick scribble but I think it catches her. Who is she anyway? Friend of yours back on your planet?" Art passed the drawing over.
Yeah, that's her. I frowned at the sketch. Identical except the ears.
"James?" Art's hand danced in front of me. "C'mon, mate, thought I lost you there for a mo'. Pack it up, you'll be seein' her later tonight, that's for damn sure."
"What – no, no, Art, that's not…" I folded the paper in to four and tucked it in my back pocket.
"Taking it with you to the toilets?" Art laughed.
"Shut-up." I sat down on the camp bed with my back to Art, a warm rush flooding my cheeks. His hand patted my shoulder.
"Not getting out that easy, me oppo. Come on, get dressed now. Drinks and the girls are all on me tonight. That's a promise from one opposite to the other."
I rubbed a cheek and turned to look up at Art. "Opposite?"
"Oppo."
"Alright…" I gave Art a weak smile and a thumbs-up and reached for the civilian clothes.
Turned out in dark trousers and a grey jumper a few sizes too big for me, I followed Art out in to the cold night air. "There he is," Samuel crowed. "Been only waitin' half an hour." Hands on their hips, Kerris and Wenrok grinned.
"Well lead off, Lance-Jack." Art jerked his head at the open gate. "Keep us waitin' why dontcha?"
"This lance-jack outranks your OR's arse, mate." Wenrok feigned a swing at Art's head. "Bang!"
A group consisting of Wenrok, Kerris, and Samuel formed, separating itself from Art and I once we were outside the iron gates and in the street. Glad they're happy to go ahead, I thought. Art's leather jacket flapped in the wind. "What the hell have you brought there?" I glimpsed a protrusion underneath Art's armpit.
"Oi, sssh! Don't need to be mouthin' off to the others now, do you?"
"Is that allowed?"
"Would you trust any one of those creeps with this?"
"I wouldn't trust you with one."
"Gunners."
Art and I froze. "Who the fu—?" Art's hand dug inside his jacket.
"Over here."
"Ma'am." I put my arm across Art's chest. "S'alright, Art, it's the lieutenant."
"The who?"
"Art." I spied the naval officer loitering in an alley on the other side of the street and led Art over. "C'mon, don't be shy."
"Says the bloke too afraid of visiting a whorehouse."
"Shush." I slapped at Art's arm and added, "don't tell her that."
"Gunners." Lieutenant Pripinec, just outside the yellow glow of a streetlamp, leant against the wall with her arms folded. She too wore plainclothes; a double-breasted jacket of waxed cotton. "Let us discuss the favour you owe me."
What favour? I shot a glance at Art. "Ma'am?"
"Now?" The colour in Art's cheeks drained. "We're just off on liberty tonight, Ma'am."
"What better occasion then, gunners?" Pripinec produced a folded note from her breast pocket and passed it to Art. "Discreetly, if you please."
"Where's that?" Art's brows knitted themselves together. "Oh, that's… on the west bank."
"What?" I look over Art's shoulder at the neat handwriting. Exchange the envelope with the package from behind a collection of refuse containers around the back of the Saint Josemine on Vanux's Cairn.
"Where's Vanux's Cairn?"
"Umm, Ma'am, the west bank is out of bounds." Art folded the note and passed it back. "We're not allowed that side of the river."
"Well, I'm sure you will find yourself over there sometime tonight." Pripinec put her hand in to an inner pocket. "Just be aware…" Pripinec's hand shot out and formed a finger-gun, aiming first at Art then at me. "…Were I an agent of the enemy, you would both be in my custody." Art pulled back his jacket, revealing his shoulder-holster. "That's an illegal weapon there, Gunner Drow." Pripinec's hand returned to her jacket and took out an envelope tied up with string. "I'd be careful around him, Gunner Larn."
"I'm just a private, Ma'am." I shook my head. "Not Lairs."
"Well then, there will be no questions if you go missing." Pripinec pushed the envelope in to my hand, stuck her hands in her pockets and walked off. "Oh, you can pass the items on to your Lieutenant Ahern once you return."
"What does she want anyway?" I squinted at the letters. "Art, don't stare at the officer!"
"Uh?" Art blinked and shook his head. "Err, looks like we're running errands for the navy now."
"Do we have to?"
"She knows Ahern though."
"Art, she can't order us to do anything illegal. And why'd she say that we'd find ourselves over that side tonight?"
Art bit the inside of his cheek. "I think she's got a point, James. We might be finding it difficult to get some action this side o' the river."
"Huh?"
"I reckon the best places are gonna be full up. I don't want to fall drunk in to a cheap, nasty flesh den at two in the morning and wake up with a roaring rash and itch. C'mon, let's find the others fast."
Samuel, Kerris, and Wenrok hadn't waited for us at all, and were in the process of leaving the first tavern Art and I came across. "Full." Wenrok made a swiping motion at his neck as he drew the door closed behind him and hopped down a pair of rickety steps to Kerris and Samuel. The tavern was so full that civvies holding frothy mugs were lounging on a veranda outside, despite the slight nip in the air.
"Oi, there he is." Samuel pushed at Kerris. "Took him off for a quickie!"
"Where next?" Kerris shoved back at Samuel. "Wen?"
"No Joparr round here?" Art asked cheerfully, rubbing his hands together. Kerris, Wenrok, and Samuel encircled Art, blocking me out.
"Hope not. Seen any low-flying furniture?" Samuel flicked Art's ear.
"Ooh! Cheeky bastard. C'mon then." Art jabbed a finger at Samuel's eye. "Poke your bleedin' eye out."
"Oi, later, later. Let's have a couple first then find some action." Wenrok seized the top of Art's head and steered him away from Samuel. "Fighting in the street! Who d'you think you are, navy?"
"Fish-heads are well up for a bit o' buggery in the street, I hear." Kerris picked up a thin bit of wood broken from a plank and banged on an overhead sign. "Heh-heh, mind your head."
With Art folded in to the threesome, I trailed a little behind the gunners. They haven't even touched a drop of booze yet and they're already rowdy. Is this what Guardsmen do on liberty, drink and do… other stuff? I pressed a hand against my aching gut. Calm. Calm. She's on the other side of the river. She can't get me here.
Orange Sector, 20:23
Once more the delicate matter of the smuggled weaponry lay in the hands of the humans who, again, were all too willing to lend their bodies to the three Eldar's cause.
"Gently." Derin rumbled. "Brother of mine, lend them your strength."
Speak not in Gothic to the young one, Felarch. Izuru paid Derin a scornful look. His mind does not appreciate the guttural utterances of the humans.
Wrapped in their AdMech robes, ranger and felarch stood well back from a wheeled transport, what the humans referred to as a lorry, and waited for the crew, with Saeros' assistance, to load the precious containers in to hidden spaces behind the crates of produce destined for the slums.
Order them to make haste. To tarry is to invite the attention of an Arbites patrol. No doubt their hounds are trained to sniff us out. Izuru's gaze swept the narrow street, following the weak yellow streetlamps all the way to the end. I have always despised anything four-legged. Beasts worse than the humans. Bright outlines shone from the gaps between curtains in windows. It was to be expected that many human citizens would have not yet retired to their bedchambers, though there did not seem to be any form of curfew in place, despite the civil unrest.
"All done, my lord." The humans bowed to Derin once the crates were in place. "Praise the Omnissiah."
"Omnissiah be praised." Derin performed a strange gesture with his hand.
You made that up there and then. A half-smile, fleeting, passed Izuru's lips. Without her mask to hide her features, Izuru had detached the goggles and wore them on her forehead underneath her hood, with a scarf concealing her lower face. May we be away? I long to turn my back upon Grendel.
Presently.
Izuru's ear picked up singing coming from several streets away. Quite an unfriendly night to be engaging in frivolities. Felarch, take the cargo across the river and ensure it is stowed in a safe location for the exchange on the morrow.
My lady? Saeros leapt down from the cab of the lorry.
Make the crossing with us. Derin touched Izuru's shoulder. Pursuit of this human is on your mind, I know. Do not squander your life tearing after a being you may or may not have had a past encounter with.
Izuru pushed Derin's hand away. The human vehicle can seat three beings, no more. I will follow in your wake. Rendezvous will be made on the western bank later tonight. Call to me and I will find you. Now be away. Izuru drew her cloak tightly around her shoulders and folded her arms, hastening away from the felarch before he could object further.
Saeros called out to her. Take care. Isha watch over you.
I need not the Mother's protection. Izuru hunched over, adopting a slouched gait. Not where I am going. At the turn at the end of the street, Izuru paused. Leave with the felarch, young one, don't you dare follow me. But no crimson shadow appeared. The rumble and stink of the human vehicle left only silence and a fetor of exhaust, reeking of the foul black liquid the humans used as fuel.
At last. Let hands of mine find the soft, pale flesh of your neck, Whelp. Thy life shall falter and drain from thy body with each squeeze. Izuru spun and made towards the murmur, casting her mind in to the roar of human consciousnesses. You cannot hide forever.
A half-drunk bottle of Dammassine swinging at my hip, I offered Art my free hand for him to lean on. "You piddly already, Art?"
No longer able to walk in a straight line, Art wrapped an arm around my shoulders and hurled his own empty bottle over a wall. "James…" Art burped. "I don't hear you drinking."
"What's this then?" I shook the Dammassine. "I've had plenty."
"You've had 'alf a bottle."
"Ehh, maybe I want to keep a clear 'ead for the girls, eh?"
"Thought you wasn't gonna par-take?"
"I can change my mind, can't I?"
"Hah! That's more like it, James."
Still in their own little group, Samuel, Kerris, and Wenrok kicked and swore at homeless people at the side of the street, and more often than not each other. All three carried bottles. Samuel and Wenrok smoked too. "Two Wild Ambulls," Samuel exclaimed, pointing with his bottle up at a swinging sign above a doorway. "One more for the road, boys."
"Art, we're going in 'ere." I steered Art up a step and helped him in to our fourth tavern. "Can you stand alright?"
"Yeah, fine, just don't ask me to dance, 'cause I'm not kissing ya." Art leant against a doorframe and popped his bottle on the floor. "Gonna need a top-up."
"Yep." I left my Dammassine next to Art's and followed the others in.
"Joparr."
"Where?" I searched for the red berets amongst the crowded tables. No, of course. They're not in uniform. Idiot.
"There." Art pointed at a sign nailed to the banisters of some stairs leading up to a floor overlooking us.
"Still seeing straight then?"
"Joparr Paras upstairs, other regiments downstairs, s'what it says."
"Why?" I brought Art to the bar and stood behind the other three. A crash of breaking glass was followed by a chorus of indignant bellows from the centre of the room.
"That's why." Art giggled.
Kerris ducked his head. "I dunno, I don't fancy throwing hands with Five hundred. Hard bastards, so they are. No wonder they're all upstairs."
"What was that you said about low-flying furniture?" Wenrok passed money across to the bartender.
"Low-flying glasses more like." I twisted my head around. A carpet of glass fragments coated the centre-most table. The occupants were busy sweeping the mess on to the floor. A few nursed cuts to their hands and faces. "I mean I'd rather not be pickin' glass out my face tomorrow."
"Cop that with a hangover and we're gonna be fucked for the next few days." Art passed money to Wenrok. "Same as you, mate."
"We gonna find somewhere to sit then?" Samuel sipped from the froth bubbling over the rim of his mug. His elbow smacked my arm when he passed by.
"Come on, come on, splishy-splashy." Art gestured to the bartender to hurry up.
"Give him a minute, Art," I said.
"That's – that's one for him too." Art poked me on the cheek. "See look, him."
God, it's chaos. Bunched in a corner of the room with the gunners, I shielded my mug from the latest explosion of glass, courtesy of Joparr 500. How many is that now, three?
"Aaah, fuck!" Kerris shook his hand. A trickle of blood ran down his wrist. "Nah, fuck this. I'm done."
"Mmm." Samuel drained his mug and set it down on a shelf. "We dossing down with the bints then?"
"Hang on a tick." Wenrok and Kerris slurped their own mugs dry. "Art, Crow, we're out."
"Crow?" I mouthed to Art.
"Need a piss now." Art rubbed an eye. "Err, crow? Can't read or write."
"I can read and write. Pretty good for a country boy, huh?" I left my own half-full mug and guided Art through the patches of glass to the door. The gunners were waiting outside.
"C'mon put pressure on it. Squeeze it." Samuel pawed at Kerris's injured hand.
"Don't touch it!" Wenrok pushed Samuel away. "Kerry, get your arse back to barracks and see the MO. You got unlucky tonight."
"Aw, Wen!"
"See if you can find your way back. Little orienteering to clear your 'ead." Wenrok pressed a tissue against the cut on Kerris's hand. "Iggery."
"Hope you wake up with a massive itch tomorrow." Kerris glowered.
"No way to talk about your brother gunners."
"Aw, I'm talking to him, that's why." Kerris nodded at me. "Look at him, he don't deserve to go out tonight, bloody waste of space."
"Too right, pal. You run along now." Wenrok waved Kerris off. "Use the street signs like what Reimer said."
"Reimer can go do one." Kerris clutched his hand to his chest and stamped off.
"Anyway…" Wenrok placed a hand on Art's and Samuel's shoulder. "What's say we take the shuttle over the river and find a nice airy whorehouse?"
"Yeah but if we cross the river, we're not gunners, we're civvies," Samuel said. "So, let's bloody act like 'em."
"I'll help Kerris find his way back."
"Leave it, James, let's do what we came here to do." Art shook his head and beckoned. "Can't go home now, we're halfway there."
How could she have known we were crossing the river? How? I touched the bulk of the envelope tucked inside the waistband of my trousers. "Art, I've got to…"
"Yeah, me too." Art scampered over to a gutter and unzipped his trousers. "C'mon, cross swords."
"Aw, you two!" Samuel guffawed at the sight of us unloading in to the gutter; two identical streams crossing over each other and trickling down the drain.
All your secrets belong to me.
Izuru withdrew from the human's mind and snapped his neck, shoving the body on to the ground and rolling it over on to its back. The stench of alcohol lay heavy upon him. No-one will mourn you, human. Izuru held up a limp hand coated in blood that oozed from a cut. But I seek another.
Izuru dug inside the human's jacket, finding a handful of local currency. No weapons. Of course, you are off-duty. No need to bear arms. Izuru wiped her hands and left the body lying in the alley. Just a victim of a drunken brawl.
At the head of a steep set of stairs leading out on to a road, Izuru held back, keeping to the shadows. Four wandering shapes strolled about in the open at the far end of the street before disappearing down a west-facing road. Where do you stray, humans? Izuru took up pursuit, extending feelers to catch the weak human minds. Inebriated, blundering primates. She flexed her hands, the leather in her gloves creaking. The wraithbone knife slid in and out of its sheath cleanly.
The river. Izuru paid the green murk a brief glance. You seek passage across. For what purpose? A drunken human peeled away from the group and faced a lamp post. Foul. Utterly foul. Izuru slunk in to a porch and tore her eyes from the sight. Why initiate pursuit? Such pettiness yields no profit. Do the children matter less to you than bloody-handed revenge?
I cannot, will not let this human slip through my grasp again. That he lives is an insult against me, my family, and my ancestors. Izuru made a fist and struck her forehead. Damn you. Damn you.
The looted currency paid the toll, granting Izuru admittance to the shuttle. She chose to place a car between her and the soldiers, shrouding herself in her cloak, ignoring the stares passengers gave her. Izuru counted a little under four minutes between the gradual rise in motion and loss of momentum, ticking off every second in her mind. What is that beneath me? Izuru shifted her heels. Both came away from the floor sticky. How low must I sink to solve this simple matter? A being that should have died lives. The problem presents itself and I am its solution. Izuru's hands clenched one another. A joint in her knuckles popped. The overhead lights flickered on and off at random. Shadows danced at Izuru's feet. Is this really what you desire? Again, the tiny voice burrowed its way in to her thoughts. Yes, by Khaine's blood! Izuru's foot quivered.
Have you forgotten your true purpose? To win back your children. They are the reason you skulk within this wretched hive. Never forget that! Izuru leant forwards and pressed her clasped hands against her forehead. Father, I confess I no longer know where my path leads. Whether down in to darkness, or in to the light, so much confuses me. That I must do wrong to do right instils within me such pain. I fear I may no longer be worthy of the title Ranger.
Her gut wringing itself in to a knotted ball, Izuru departed the shuttle and stepped over the gap on to the platform. The crowds streamed past her. Not a soul paid her a second look. Good, let the subterfuge play out as I intended.
Art tossing a crumpled newspaper in to my lap shook me from my daydream. Springs inside the worn seat cushion dug in to my back when I shifted my position. "Who stuffs a newspaper down the back of my seat?"
"You what?" I rubbed warmth in to my forearms and straightened out the Norn Gazette. Eleven dead in bomb attack, the main headline read. Cult rising feared.
Cult? I looked closer at the black letters printed upon the pale green paper. Art's hand thrust against the corner, crumpling the page and ruining my view. "Looks different, don't it?"
"Huh?" I flicked at Art's wrist. "Go on, get off."
"You know different on the inside rather than on the outside." Art snorted.
"Yeah, thanks for reminding me…" I folded the paper in to four and slid it in to the gap between my seat and the wall. A gap in the window frame beside me let a thin stream of cold air in to the crowded train car. Was that just this morning?
A scant five minutes passed before the train drew to a halt at the station. The gunners' chirpiness caused a prickle to run down my spine. What if we run in to Graw out here? I crossed the gap between train and platform and looked over the faces of the civilians disembarking with me. Or the woman.
"Lively now." Art leapt on to my back.
"Art!" My legs collapsed underneath Art's weight.
"Aw, c'mon, I want to ride you down the stairs."
Wenrok grasped Art's hair and slapped him across the chops. "Belt up, Art. I am not hauling your fat carcass out of a whore's bed at four in the morning."
"He's not getting anywhere near one at this rate." Samuel bent over his folded arms, a massive grin stretching from ear to ear. "Come on, let's find a shag."
"The Saint Josemine," I blurted.
"The what?" Wenrok unfolded his map partway down the stairs, nearly losing his balance until he barged in to Samuel.
"The Saint Josemine, it's in Vanux's Cairn."
"Err…" Wenrok spun the map around. "Hang on, that's a twenty-minute walk at least."
"I'm – I'm for that – well up for that." Art leant upon the rail overlooking the street. "Listen, we wouldn't be here if it weren't for James."
"Not this again." Samuel clattered away down the stairs.
"Doesn't matter, Art. Oi, it don't matter." I patted Art on the shoulder and left him leaning over the rail. "Give us a look, Wenrok." Wenrok held the map against his chest and spun away. "Don't be a twat!"
"Eurgh, don't be a twat." Wenrok put on a nasal voice and hopped down the steps. "C'mon, Art, bloody move your lazy arse." Wenrok pushed me along by the shoulder. "Get moving, you."
"Give us a look." I pawed at the map.
"Fuck you. Use street signs." Wenrok folded the map and stuck it inside his jacket. "Art!"
"Art?"
"Art!" Wenrok bounded up to the platform.
What's kept him? He's not that drunk surely. I glanced between the head and the foot of the stairs. Samuel had gone, leaving me alone. A breeze tickled the back of my neck. Above my head, a bulb began flickering.
"…you're better off chasing after human skirts, Art." Wenrok reappeared, dragging Art behind him.
"Yeah but she had great tits." Art bounced down the stairs.
"AdMech! She was AdMech, you drunken fool. She'd 'ave electrocuted you or shoved a bolt up your arse. How many fingers am I gonna poke in your eye?"
"Err… two?"
"All of 'em if you don't belt up and shut up."
AdMech.
"Art's carrying a sidearm," I said.
"No, I'm not." I yanked Art's zip down, exposing the shoulder holster.
"Hunh." Wenrok shrugged. "Sensible."
Is that your response to a drunk with a gun? "Wenrok, take it!" I hissed.
"Knew you was a few screws loose."
"Alright…" I reached out and popped the clasp holding the stub pistol in.
Wenrok took hold of my wrist and twisted. "Nah, you're not 'aving that, Crow."
"Ow, I'm serious, Wenrok. There's a woman in AdMech clobber stalking us." I gestured to Samuel when we reached street level. Samuel turned his head and ignored me.
"Us? Great, let's bring her along, we'll take it in turns with her."
"Art, you've gotta gimme your gun."
"I can give you both." Art rolled out on to the street and lay down on his back. "Aaahh."
"Oh, get up please, Art." I seized Art's shoulders and got him in to a sitting position. "We're on a road."
"Just us two then." Wenrok sauntered off with Samuel.
"Shit, he's got the map," I muttered. "Art, please!"
"Oh, I'm going out with a bang tonight." Art gulped down air and shook his head. "Eurgh, I'm gonna give it to Wenrok with both barrels. Gissa hand 'ere, James."
"Probl'y have a little less next time, Art?" I helped Art along after Wenrok and Samuel. "Ooh, mind the curb there."
"C'mon, let's climb this mountain, you and I."
"It's a curb, mate. Lift your foot."
Bloody hell, I didn't realise he had that much.
"Lairs-ho!" Art shouted at the distant pair.
"Oh, ssh! Don't draw attention to us, Art. Bloody Graw round 'ere. That woman could be too. Why'd I agree to this?"
"Cause we're a sorry pair of thick cunts, too thick to do anything right unless the officers tell us what to do. Even then they're wrong, 'cause they're officers and useless."
"Okay, come on, pick it up here, Art. We're losing 'em."
"Like they give a shit."
"Like I could too, but Wenrok's got the map."
"And I've got me gun."
"…Yeah." I swiped Art's stub pistol. The restraining catch keeping it sitting within the soft leather still flapped loose. "This thing even loaded?" I hooked my forefinger around the curved trigger-guard and eased back the slide with my thumb.
"Err…"
Brass slugs looked up at me from the loaded magazine. Nothing had yet been fed in to the chamber, nor was the pistol cocked. "Yup, that is brass. I'm keeping this, Art."
"Mm-hm, play nice."
"I'll play it safe, Art. Don't want any accidents now, do we? Else the lieutenant's gonna think you did it deliberately."
"I'd never!"
"Yeah…" I slipped the handgun in to my waistband and tightened my belt. "Iggery, yeah. I want that map."
No street signs. Different from the east bank. I padded up behind Wenrok and Samuel, both of whom were examining the map underneath a streetlight. "So, where we off to then? Art's dying to stretch his third leg."
"How did you become so funny, Crow?" Samuel did not look up from the map. I managed a glimpse of the street layout before Wenrok jerked the map out of view. Not perfect, but it'll do. I found Art leaning against a wall, staring down at a small puddle of yellow lumps on the ground.
"Got something on your chin there." I waved a finger at Art's chin. "Better wipe it off, eh?"
"Did you find out where we are?" Art's head lolled.
"Yeah, I think…" I pressed my thumbs against my temples. "…think I've got a pretty good picture."
"No street signs."
"Nah, problem there. Need a bit of dead reckoning to find Vanux's Cairn now."
"Hey, come with us to the whorehouse, at least you'll know where we are then. Maybe do our thing after we've had our money's worth."
"Art." I pressed a hand behind Art's shoulder and moved him on. "You're not doin' any o' that tonight, not in this state, mate. How's it gonna look if you throw up in bed, uh? You don't want that, and neither does she."
Art's shoulders slumped. "Oh well, maybe next month then."
"Yeah, just go easy on the drink next time." I threw a quick look behind us. Please let me not see any red.
The green sector had reached near-shanty levels of rundown before Wenrok and Samuel finally found a place they liked the look of. Right far cry from the houses on the east bank. At least all of them had roofs. Many more walls bore graffiti: LVF caused this. Sacrifice the blue skies of freedom for the grey mists of imperial rule? Posters here and there. Pax Imperialis, that's one of Risto's posters. I leant closer to the blood-red thug with the raised cudgel. Definitely Risto.
"So, we goin' in or what?" Art asked.
"Yeah. Yeah." I guided Art across the street towards a double door bathed in a red glow from overhead lamps. A bright neon sign with thick, jumbled letters flickered above the doorway. The Belladonna. Wonder what that means. I thumped upon the door. The scrape of first one then another bolt sounded from inside. "Okay, Art."
An eye appeared in the narrow crack between the doors. "You with those other two gentlemen?"
"What other two—?"
"Yeah, we are." I poked Art in the ribs.
"Just you two?"
I nodded. "Yeah, just us."
"Hang on." Chains rattled.
Sturdy-looking thing. The left-side door opened in our faces. A tree-trunk leg appeared, quickly followed by an arm, a torso, and a square head topped with a grey fuzz.
"Bet he could pleasure a horse!" Art hooted. A second jab shut him up.
"Your friend looks quite the worse for wear," the human tank rumbled. "I'm not sure you'll be providing patronage here tonight."
"Oh no, I just want directions to the Saint Jos – Saint Josemine in Vanux's Cairn. I wanted to leave Art here with his mates and head off alone."
"Art, yes?" The human tank pulled the door to behind him. "Is it Art?"
"Yeah." Art tilted his head up. "Art Drow."
"Well, Art Drow, is it your intention to hire the services of a member of this establishment tonight?"
"Cor, he's well-spoken for a moving-mountain. In't he well spoken, James?"
"Please." I held up a hand to the giant. "My mate's a little off the deep end, he won't be staying 'ere long…"
"And where's your barracks?" Flint-coloured eyes sparkled.
"Err…" The giant placed his hands upon his hips.
"I dunno, we was in a school." I swallowed. "'Cross the other side o' the river."
"Your regiment?" A figure in slim-cut attire, nothing more than a silhouette, appeared behind the giant and drew his attention away from us. What the—? I leant to one side and squinted at a poster pinned to a notice board at the end of the short hallway. Join the GRA.
My fingers found the rough contours of the stub pistol's grip.
"James, leave it."
"Graw's here, Art. We're off out of here now."
"Look, James, he's not gonna stab us up."
"Nah, he's gonna call his friends." I worked the pistol loose. "Shit, he's gonna call his friends."
The giant returned to us. "Enter, please."
"Oh, that was easy." Art tottered through the door. "Coming, James?"
I'm in for it now. I slipped the hem of my jumper over the protrusion in my waistband and stepped inside. "Please observe the rules, gentlemen." The giant laid a sausage finger upon a bulletin board level with his breast. "Violation shall lead to permanent exclusion and the blacklist."
"Yes, sir."
"Estoc. Just Estoc, please." Estoc planted himself on one of the cushioned seats that sat on both sides of the hall. "Take your time."
Not going to let us out of your sight, are you. With my back to Estoc, I pulled a face. "I'm – I'm not staying. I've gotta find Vanux's Cairn and the Saint Josemine."
"Your friend must pay if he stays," Estoc said. "Violence on the premises or out on the street will not be tolerated. I will warn you, that sidearm you carry will do little good."
How the hell does he know that? I turned my back on the list of rules. "I need to find the Saint Josemine."
Estoc linked his fingers and drew one knee up to his chest. "The Saint Josemine, I know it well. Not sure you'd want over there. It's a GRA stronghold."
"Funny where Graw pops up." My eyes flickered over to the GRA recruitment poster.
Estoc shook his head. "Don't head to the Cairn. One more dead soldier only makes the Tin Men mad then that leads to doors being busted in and lots of innocents interned without trial." Estoc sighed. "Why don't you just quit? Get out of Norn, leave Grendel to sort itself out."
"We're just 'ere to help…"
"Ah, the wonders of an unscarred mind, unmuddied by drink, unclouded by lust. Truly, there is always an exception to accepted norms. One never enters a place of entertainment without sampling something, for everybody likes something."
"I'm just 'ere to do a job. I'd be grateful if you'd show me where the Saint Josemine in Vanux's Cairn is. I don't want in, I want 'round the back of the building where I'm s'posed to make an exchange."
"Hmm, not so innocent after all then." Estoc raised an eyebrow. "Quite a bit more going on behind those baby-blues than I first thought."
"I'll do my thing, come back 'ere and pick Art up. Then you'll never see us again. Art?" Art lay on the couch opposite Estoc with his forearm resting over his eyes. "You alright here for the minute, Art?"
"Wake me up in the spring, James," Art croaked.
"Take it easy, mate." I clasped Art's forearm then moved over to Estoc.
"I'll run this thing down to the Josey for you." Estoc offered a hand. "No sense risking yourself, soldier."
Noble for a Graw. "Now why'd I let you do a thing like that?"
"One more dead soldier is another dozen of my people thrown in the cells by your thugs. We want you out, not dead. I've seen enough violence."
"You served?"
Estoc bent down and drew up both trouserlegs, showing thick metal struts extending from his shoes, and all the way up to his thighs. "Lost too much of my life to the Guard. They're not the compensation-granting sorts. I was a slab of meat to them, and they butchered me." His nose wrinkling, Estoc unrolled his trouserlegs and drew the hems over his shoes. "Don't let 'em take your body or your mind from you, soldier." Estoc's knuckles grew white. "Or your spirit. Keep that fire burnin' in you, and remember that it's not xenos or heretics or whoever that you've got to watch out for, but your own people; officers and commissars, they exist in their own world of blissful lies and ignorance. They want you dead, or in their lie."
"Who's that?" I spun round, hearing a bang on the door. "Art, wake up."
"It's alright, I know them. They work with me." Estoc stepped around me and headed for the door. "Nothing will happen to you in here, I promise."
Shit, they're Graw. I perched upon the arm of the couch above Art and stared at the skirting board on the other side of the hall. Three military-aged civilians came past, two of them carrying shoulder bags. Not one paid us any attention and simply hurried off up the stairs. "What's in the bags then?"
"Gifts," Estoc replied. "Bolt the door. I'll be fifteen minutes. Don't answer it to anyone. Probably best if you stay down here too."
"Ta." I nodded at Estoc as he stepped out in to the street.
"Shut the door behind me."
From the arrangement of bolts and chains, I slid a single bar across and locked it in place. There. With the hall quiet, I listened to the faint laughter and moans coming from the floor above. Is this a Graw stronghold too? I paused beside the GRA poster. A masked silhouette aimed an automatic rifle to the side. Beneath him, a child stood poised with an incendiary bomb. Any age. Either gender. It's your fight, just as much as hers, the slogan read. I cocked my head to one side. So, what's on Grendel the Imperium wants so badly then? I pushed a peeling corner back against the board. Feels like we're kicking our way in to a hive of hornets here.
"Where d'you go, James?"
"You doss down there for now, son. I'm off for a wander."
"Bring me back a blonde, yeah, James."
"I'll find you a blonde, Art." I laughed. You just keep quiet now. No need to let Graw know we're soldiers.
Floorboards creaked underneath my bootheels, each step upwards offering its own unique note. Might as well be tiptoeing on glass. I gave up on keeping silent and climbed the curving stairs up to a balcony overlooking a wide-open area strewn with couches and all manner of comfort for the local patrons. Young women, pale and dark, blonde and brunette, and all in various stages of undress, were attending to their clients. Some simply danced, others had their wide bosoms moulded around their clients' faces, a few cuddled in discreet corners. You'd pay to do something like this? I touched the wooden rail and looked down upon the gathering. Grunts and groans filtered through gaps beneath doors leading off the balcony, sometimes squeals and shrieks peaked over the cavorting beneath me. Not for me. I circuited the first floor. Every sealed room held occupants, many uncaring of the noise they made. Hello, this one's very quiet. I stopped by a door on my second circuit and leant against the wall beside the frame. No-one else around. Closer I shifted until I could place an ear to the door. Aah, no good. The wood's too thick. I found a crack in the doorframe and peered through. Now, what are you up to, Graw? Lit by a naked bulb dangling from a loose wire, a shoebox sat with its lid open in the centre of a square table covered in a red cloth. Two of the three GRA men stood with their backs to me, the shoebox visible between their elbows. The third Graw bent over the open box, his fingers delving inside. A fourth man, this one facing Graw at right-angles, leant forwards on his hands and pointed at the box's contents then displayed the chrono attached to his wrist. The Graw opposite glanced up and nodded. A timepiece? The quick-fire thud-thud in my ears gained pace.
"You can do more than watch…"
"Oh, shi…" I grasped at my throat, drawing back from the crack. "I'm sorry." I cleared the build-up in my throat and looked down at the floor. Two rooms down, a door lay open. A woman, standing half-in half-out of her room, leant upon the frame. Dirty blonde hair hung loose down her back. Draped around her shoulders, a thin shawl covered a silken slip. "Sorry, ma'am, I'm…"
"You're with the soldier?" The woman, barefoot, stepped out on to the balcony and nodded at my feet.
"What soldier?" The moisture inside my mouth evaporated, leaving a bone-dry tongue scraping along unbrushed teeth. I planted my eye against the crack, my breath warming the wooden panel. The three GRA men remained in their previous positions, listening to the instruction given by the fourth, faceless man, who moved around the table, ending up directly opposite me. Beneath the black corduroy jacket, a maroon sweater shouted through the gap between Graw's elbows at me. The same smudge above the upper lip, the same mean little eyes, the same regulation-flouting haircut.
Shoulder-holster. The plainclothes officer!
"…What?" My jaw slackened. Ice slid down my back. I spun back and slapped the woman's hand away.
"What's bitten you?" The woman tugged her shawl back over her shoulder.
I dove against the panel and screwed up my right eye. Shoulder-holster snatched an unlit cigarette from a Graw's mouth and threw it on the floor, a scowl on his face. Giving one final remark, Shoulder-holster stuck his hands in his pockets and came round the table towards me.
"Shit." I shrunk away from the crack.
"Not keen to become acquainted?" The woman smiled and inclined her head.
"It's him or you. Take a wild guess." I fled after the woman and inside her room.
"Well, I guessed wrong then." She pushed the door shut behind me and lowered the latch.
"Oh, God…" A jackhammer did a number inside my chest. Leant against the door, I caught a trace of sweetness in the air, a scent or fragrance that touched the tip of my tongue. Crumpled bedsheets and a duvet were scrunched up at the foot of the double bed in the centre of the room. Plump cushions sat upon a semi-circular couch that rested against one wall. A set of mirrors on top of a chest of drawers regarded groups of bottles, hair curlers, face paint, and everything else arranged in the ordered mess the woman needed.
"Hmm…." The woman shrugged off her shawl and draped it over a high-backed chair. "Shall we talk coin before or after?" She leant forwards and hugged the back of the chair.
"Oh, I'm not – I'm not 'ere for…" I wrung my hands, gazing at a spot on the carpet.
"Not here for sex?" A grin stretched across the woman's lips. "You must be the first ever to—"
"I haven't got any money. I've got a mate downstairs, he's no use till the morning. He was gonna pay for both of us. Without him, I'm…" I shrugged. "Sorry, Ma'am."
"I'm not the madame, but without payment we cannot do business." The woman rested her chin upon the chair. "For that I am sorry."
"Naw, I'm intruding 'ere." I shuffled in the direction of the door. "Sorry for wasting your time, miss."
"A minute's no loss. The speed at which some clients operate never ceases to amaze." The woman tossed her shawl over one shoulder and backed away from her chair. "Stay for a minute, if you like." She went and sat down in front of her mirrors. Out from a top drawer came a knife which sat within arm's reach. "Did Estoc let your friend stay in the hall?"
"Er, yeah, he's kipping in the hall." Probably best not to mention Estoc slipped out for me. That won't win me any favours. I toured the room, taking in the framed artworks depicting lovers in a multitude of positions I didn't think possible for the human body. Pink or red seemed to be the predominant colour in the room, with gold trim too. Hope I'm not dragging muck in with me. I lifted my boots and glanced at the soles.
"And you?" The woman drew a comb through her hair. "Seems an awful long way for a soldier to come without giving patronage."
"S'a formal way of putting it." I peered at a small pile of leather-backed books with gold lettering on the spine. The three were piled on a bedside table next to a lamp. "It's just, uhh, sex, innit?"
"We have our business, be it pleasure or simple counselling, as you have yours; killing."
"We're…" I turned around to look the woman in the mirror. "We're just 'ere to help though…"
The woman laid down her hairbrush and met my eye. "Can more rifles, armoured cars, and attack-dogs solve our problems?"
"I dunno what they are. I dunno why Norn's split down the centre, why there's GRA here and LVF over the other side, or why they don't like each other." I scratched my head and returned to the books. Basic Trigonometry Vol. 1 & 2. Miroshen's Guide to Mathematics. The leather spine flexed beneath my touch. And why is Graw building bombs here?
"Can a sledgehammer perform heart surgery?" The woman tilted her head and reached to adjust her mirror. "Your imperium seems to think it can. Why bother sending aid when you can send men with batons and dogs?"
"I'm sorry this happened to you, miss. I 'aven't been 'ere long, I'm just trying to keep my head down. It's Art downstairs I've got to worry about. Them other two I came 'ere with… they're not worth a credit."
"No, the blame doesn't lie with you alone, it's that soldier getting in to bed with Graw in the other room."
"I saw him – met him – back at me barracks. A right old bastard, he was."
"Military intelligence performing undercover work. Covert, or so he thinks." The woman smiled sadly. "We can sniff a soldier out the moment he sets foot in our home."
"Reckon he's up to no good?" I put my hands in my pockets and slouched over.
"What's in your pockets?"
"Oh nothing." I patted both pockets. "Just some pain-relief. I took some flak in the spine not long ago…"
"Turn around. Lift your top up."
My back to the woman, I gritted my teeth and lifted the back of my jumper up.
"Where is Estoc?" The woman sprang from her chair, knife in hand. "You heed the Belladonna's rules or you leave!"
"No-no-no!" I danced out of the woman's reach, my hands raised. "My mate, Art, he brought it with him. I took the gun off him 'cause he was drunk. He was drunk!"
"Where is Estoc?" The woman held her knife at chest level, point outwards. I explained the errand and the Saint Josemine to her with my back to the wall.
"Nobody watches the front door?" The woman circled her blade at me. "You tell me there is at least someone manning the front post."
"I bolted the door. Art's down there. He'll let Estoc back in, surely."
"Out." The woman pulled on slippers, all the while keeping her knife pointed at me. "Keep your hands away from your weapon and walk down to the front hall."
"If you try and take it, I'm gonna have to stop you," I said in a little voice. "I don't want to hurt you, or anybody."
"Out." The woman waved her knife at me. Eyes glued to the floor, I traipsed out on to the landing, turned right and made over to the staircase. "Sorry, I shoulda told you before I was carrying… I didn't want no harm coming to you or Art, or anyone."
Two pairs of feet, one loud and clomping, the other a soft flapping, made the descent to the front hall. "Art?" I found the stub pistol's grip and tugged it from my waistband. "Art?"
"Don't." The knife prodded my shoulder. "Don't."
I gesticulated at the long couch. "Art, he was lying there – he was right there!"
"Outside."
"Uh?"
"The door!"
"Oh, shit." I barrelled over to the leftmost door and pushed against the crack, widening it. "Stay here!" I flung an open hand at the woman behind me.
"I will seek the madame. Don't let anyone else in."
"Art?" I hustled away from the overhead lights, leaving the red hue behind. A breeze prickled my skin, turning up the hairs on my neck. "C'mon, where are you?" I swivelled, catching sight of a group of tramps huddling around a fire burning inside a fuel drum. "Not there." A prone shape lying on the pavement caught my eye. "Art?"
"Bleurgh, I'm fucking dying 'ere, James." Art spat yellow, viscous bile through a grate.
"Had me worried for a mo' there, pal." I tucked the pistol away and knelt beside Art. "C'mon, son, dig out. Let's get back inside now, yeah?"
"Didn't 'alf 'ave to run to lose this bombload down the drain, I can tell ya." Art dragged his sleeve across his mouth.
"C'mon, we're going back inside now, Art." I put one hand on Art's back and the other on his chest. "Dig out now. I need your arms and legs operating for this one."
"Nah, I'm unserviceable tonight."
"Yeah-yeah, just push off the ground. I'll do the rest."
"Can we fucking go now or what?" Art wriggled under my guidance. "I'm going home. Sick of this place."
"No, we've got to wait for Estoc to come back. Mind the step."
"So, where's this blonde you was gonna get me?" Art fell face-first on to the couch. "Urghh."
"Couldn't find one for you, Art. You stay there now. Don't move." I left the door wide enough to see where Art lay and headed back out on to the street. Where the hell are you, Estoc? My left hand twitched. Bloody leave us hanging here, why don't you?
"James, what you doing out there?" Art called.
"Waiting out here for Estoc to come back, Art. You sit tight." I bit upon a knuckle. Shit, what was that girl's name? Why didn't I tell her mine either? I took a step forwards and peered both ways down the street. Right run-down dive this is. You couldn't—
A jerk behind my navel and the ground became the sky, tumbling helter-skelter over one another. Hot air and debris burst over and around me, coating my clothes and skin in dirt. A ragdoll, my body rolled over and over on its side, slamming in to a pile of broken timbers on the far side of the street. Screams peaked over the howling inferno blossoming inside the Belladonna. Elbow-deep in splinters, I clawed at the ground and raised my lolling head. Flames crackled in the windows. Both doors lay out in the street, their hinges wrought and twisted. Art. I planted a soot-stained, blood-streaked hand upon the ground and pushed myself up. Getting to my knees, my head drooped until my chin was pressed against my chest. My hand ran up and down my back. Blood seeped from rips in the material. Art. First one foot then the other found steady ground. Clutching both elbows, I shambled to the Belladonna's entrance. "Art?" I mouthed. Both of my ears rang. Art lay in the centre of the hallway on his stomach, covered head to foot in rubble and pieces of burning cloth. I tore off my jumper and beat at the fires. "Art!" Above my head, the roof beams groaned. I kicked and shoved at the mess covering Art and grabbed his shoulders, working them free. A spurt of fire shooting up my spine, I hauled Art out of the doorway. Splintering beams collapsed in to the hall, forming a barricade of jagged ends. I found Art's collar and pulled on it, bringing him as far from the burning building as I could, ending up where the blast had dumped me. "Art?" I touched the blackened, bloodied mess, searching for the thump in his chest. "Please." No thud-thud in Art's chest, nothing underneath his cut-up jaw, nothing pulsating in his wrist. I shook Art and beat upon him, bringing his head up next to mine, clutching him against me, screwing my face up in to the most hideous mask imaginable. Art! I thumped my fist on his back once, twice, three times, for all the good it did. Hot tears slicing lines through muck and blood, I laid Art down on the street. I'm so sorry, pal. Emperor forgive me.
Nothing stirred within the Belladonna's walls, nothing but fire and the crash of roofs and walls collapsing. The girl! I strayed towards the blaze and clasped my hands over my mouth. My fingers clutched the top of my head, dragging lines through the soot-tainted hair, working back and forth. What was her name? I didn't even get her name. What was her bloody name?
A hand slammed down upon my shoulder, snapping me around. A glint of gold eyes and a flash of a scarlet-clad sleeve preceded an iron-hard fist crashing against my temple. Once more the world skewed sideways, and I fell, Art's name dying on my lips.