Chapter Eight
"Come in, my daughter," said a voice from inside.
Little Red Riding Hood entered the cottage. "I'm very hungry, Mother," she said.
"Have some meat in the cupboard," answered the wolf.
A large cat jumped up onto the cupboard and said, "That's your mother's flesh you're eating."
"Mother," Little Red Riding Hood said. "There's a cat on the cupboard, and it's saying that I'm eating your flesh."
"That's a lie, of course," the wolf assured her. "Throw a shoe at the cat."
Little Red Riding Hood, having eaten the meat, was thirsty. "I'm very thirsty, Mother," she said.
"Drink some wine from the pot," answered the wolf.
When she did, a little bird came flying and perched on the top of the chimney. "That's your mother's blood you're drinking," it said.
"Mother, there's a bird perched on the chimney," Little Red Riding Hood said, "and it's saying that I'm drinking your blood."
"Throw your cloak at the bird."
- from the fairy tale "Little Red Riding Hood"
You're being stupid.
No, I'm not!
You should have waited for the others.
They were taking too long. We can't let the Homunculus get away!
You're no match for a Homunculus on your own. What were you thinking?
"Oh, shut up," Trisha muttered to the voices battling inside her head. "What's done is done, and I'm almost there. I can't stop now."
The sky was overcast, the air cold, and Trisha hoped it wouldn't start raining before she got to her destination. As she walked, she glanced at the crude map she had sketched, ensuring for the twentieth time that she was in the right place. The streets had slowly become more and more deserted, the buildings more and more decrepit. Only a few muffled sounds filtered into the air, till Trisha's footsteps seemed unbearably loud as they echoed in the stillness. It seemed a strange place for a Lieutenant Colonel to live, but all the records said that this was her residence. Stopping in front of the building she had marked on her map, Trisha looked up at its morose face. Paint peeled off the walls, and only a few lights shone from behind curtains, making it look like a desolate crypt.
See? You should get out of here while you can.
I'm not scared!
Sure...
"Oh, come on!" Trisha growled to herself. "It's just 'cause the Sect's been through here recently; people will come back eventually and clean this place up!" All the same, she shivered and drew her red coat closer about herself, sniffing at the comforting cat scent that lingered about it. Her coat had once belonged to her Uncle Al, and no amount of washing had ever been able to take out his smell. It was especially reassuring now. Letting out her breath slowly, Trisha took out her stick of chalk and entered the forbidding building. All the way up the stairs to the top floor, the two voices in her head bickered fiercely while the echoes from her footsteps soared upward through the dark stairwell.
You're going to get in big trouble.
I'm just going to stall her until the others get here.
You know there's no guarantee you can do that.
Nina will know where I've gone. She'll bring the others here straightaway!
Yes, but what if it's too late?
Trisha paused in front of the door bearing the brass number 13, heart hammering in her throat. She could turn away now and meet up with the others, so they could all confront the Homunculus together. But how could she face their accusing looks? "Where have you been?!" they would ask. "We've been looking all over for you! Don't you know how risky that was?" Trisha knew precisely what Nina would say, because one of the voices in her head was that of her older sister: "You're so stupid, Trisha!" Nina would never have done something so hasty; she was too cautious and hesitant, too anxious to play by the rules.
Trisha's hands balled into fists. She wasn't stupid. She knew the risks. But she could do this; she knew she could! Was she the daughter of the Full Metal Alchemist or not? Nodding to herself, she raised her left fist, drew a quick transmutation circle on the wall by the door, and knocked. The hollow thumping sound seemed unbearably loud in the hushed, empty building. Her whole body tensed up as she waited for the door to open, her fingers trembling slightly as they poised to activate the transmutation circle at a moment's notice.
But after a whole minute had gone by with no answer, no door opening, not even the sound of someone moving within, she began to relax. She knocked again, but there was still no answer. Disappointment flooded her. Was the Homunculus not even home? Had she gone to all this trouble only to miss Lydia Farland completely? Maybe this wasn't even the right place. She had probably looked at the map wrong. Heaving a gusty sigh, Trisha lowered both arms in defeat. On impulse, she tried the doorknob, and gasped softly when it turned in her hand. Holding her breath, she carefully pushed the door open, wincing as it creaked loudly.
The hallway beyond the door was almost completely black, and no lights could be seen from the rooms on either side of the hallway. Trisha paused on the threshold, straining her ears to catch the slightest sound, but all she could hear was a tap dripping in one of the rooms. Muscles tense once again, she crept in through the door, pushing it to behind herself, then proceeded to tiptoe through the flat. She passed through a kitchen, bedroom, and bathroom (where the leaking tap was), all sparsely furnished. The whole house smelled musty and unused, as if no one actually lived there. She began to relax again when she stepped into the front room, which had windows looking out over the street below, covered by thick curtains. Only one of the curtains had been drawn back, and the wan light from outside illuminated a dusty old armchair. The chair faced the window and (judging from the long dark streak in the dust on the floor) had been dragged out of its former position in the corner.
Sitting in this armchair, silent and still as if she was a doll, was a young woman Probably somewhere in her late twenties or early thirties, Trisha thought. This woman's brown hair fell limply to her shoulders, as though it was tired beyond belief, and the expression on her face spoke of the same weariness Trisha often associated with the elderly. The woman's hands were folded neatly in the lap of her faded homespun dress, as though she had been praying. Yet what drew Trisha's eyes were the woman's feet. Her legs stopped at the ankles, and attached to them were heavy-looking wooden blocks carved into the shape of human feet.
Trisha slowly drew closer to this woman, wondering what she was doing in Lieutenant Colonel Farland's flat. When she was only several feet from the armchair, the woman sitting in it suddenly stirred, making Trisha jump and stop in her tracks. The woman turned her head slowly to look at Trisha, but her grey eyes were blank, as though made from glass. The two of them stared at each other for several long moments, and then the woman asked dully, "Who are you?"
"Trisha Elric," she replied automatically.
"Oh." The woman turned back to face the window.
"Um..." Trisha ventured timidly. "Who are you? Why are you in Lydia Farland's house?"
A spark of light entered the woman's eyes, and she turned to look at Trisha with more interest. "You know my sister?"
Trisha's breath caught in her throat. "You're...her sister?" she croaked out. The Homunculus had a sister?!
"Miranda Farland," the woman said in reply. Her eyes passed up and down Trisha's figure, seeming to linger on her blue uniform. "Are you...a friend?"
"Unfortunately, no."
"Ah," Miranda murmured softly, looking down at her hands. "So you've come to arrest her."
"Well, something like that," Trisha admitted, rather taken aback that this woman seemed so comfortable with the thought that her sister would be arrested. Trisha couldn't help wondering whether Miranda knew what her 'sister' was. "Where is she now?"
"I don't know," Miranda replied, returning her gaze to Trisha's face. "She told me to wait for her here."
Trisha felt increasingly awkward. "Er...I didn't know she had a sister."
"I'm not surprised. I actually live in Vald."
"Where?"
"Never mind. Just a backwater village." Miranda's eyes strayed away from Trisha's face again, this time alighting on the silver chain glinting between her pocket and belt. A little more interest came into her eyes. "You're a State Alchemist?"
"Yeah," Trisha said, pulling out her pocketwatch to show her.
Miranda's eyes widened slightly. "That's where I've heard the name Elric! You must be related to that Full Metal Alchemist person!"
"He's my father."
Comprehension dawned on Miranda's face, then her features dulled again. "You know about my sister, don't you? You've come to destroy her."
Trisha bit her lip. "Yes, actually."
Miranda nodded. "Of course you'd see it that way. I understand why you want to do that, but..." She turned her head away with a sigh. "I tried so hard to bring her back."
"You were the one who created her?" Trisha asked in a shocked whisper.
"Of course," Miranda replied darkly, her hands suddenly convulsing in her lap. "When my little sister died, I realized that life was meaningless without her. So I studied alchemy, and performed human transmutation. Of course I knew that it is forbidden, but...I didn't understand why until..." Her voice trailed away, as she squeezed her eyes shut and gestured at her wooden feet. "The Gate took my feet, and I was left lying in a pool of blood with the mangled results of my mistake before my very eyes. The Homunculus left after a couple days, leaving me to face my guilt alone. None of the other villagers understood what I'd done, but they made new feet for me. I thought I would be able to live with the guilt and not make any more mistakes, but...then Lydia came back...and brought me here."
"Why are you telling me all of this?" Trisha whispered.
Miranda laughed bitterly. "Who knows? Maybe I like hearing myself talk. Or maybe...maybe I just want someone to understand."
Trisha gasped as Miranda's gaze met her own, for in that moment she did understand. She saw Nina sprawled on the ground, blood dribbling down her chin, her golden eyes horribly blank. The whole world seemed to fall away, and a cold weight dragged at her stomach. She saw a life without Nina, without her big sister – no smiles, no punches, no giggling together, no long pages of notes and diagrams on their latest alchemic find – and she realized that such a life would be empty. Without Nina, all that was meaningful would be sucked from her life, and there would be no point in living any longer. Trisha raised her fingers to gingerly touch the large bruise on her cheekbone, a lingering testament to their latest fight, and she remembered how Nina had brought her ice to bring down the swelling. She remembered the tight grip on her hand as they sat in an understanding silence. She remembered what Nina had said: I guess...I'd miss you so much that I...I'd want to bring you back.
And in a sudden, painful epiphany Trisha knew that, were she in Miranda's position, she would have done no differently.
Tears welled up in her eyes, and she opened her mouth to say that she understood, but before she could a hand closed around her throat. Choking, her fingers scrabbling uselessly at the iron grip around her neck, she looked up into a pair of red eyes with vertical pupils staring down at her. She blinked with difficulty, the tears in her eyes sliding down her cheeks. She recognized the face around the eyes. Lydia Farland was just as pretty as the day they had met, with her brown curls and pleasant face, but there was a fierceness that hadn't been there before that sharpened her eyes and made her mouth savage like a wild beast. "I remember you," Lydia murmured, her breath rushing across Trisha's face. It smelled like new wood. "You're that Elric brat. Come to listen to Auntie Miranda's stories, have we?" Her fingers tightened around Trisha's throat.
"No!" Miranda cried, leaping to her feet. She started forward, but tripped over her own wooden feet and went sprawling with a clatter and a thump.
Lydia laughed derisively, but she loosened her grip. As Trisha desperately coughed and gulped in air that stung against the back of her throat, Lydia sneered, "You're right, Miranda. A hostage might come in handy. For insurance. But I'm warning you," she snarled at Trisha. "One attempt to transmute-" she pointed with her toe at the stick of chalk that Trisha had dropped on the floor, then slammed her heel onto it and ground it into a fine powder with a horrible crunching sound. "And that will be you." She glanced with disgust at Miranda, who was struggling to her feet. "Get up, you oaf." She kicked her sister, making her fall over again, then transferred her grip from Trisha's neck to her arm. "Now come, both of you. We have important business to see to."
Lydia hauled Miranda to her feet, still keeping a firm grip on Trisha's arm, and for a moment the two victims met each other's eyes. Miranda's face held an unreadable emotion. Did she feel sorry for Trisha, or was it something else entirely? Before Trisha could decide, their gaze was broken as they were led out of the flat.
See? I told you this would happen!
Shut up! You did not say this was going to happen! You can't see the future!
But I knew something bad was going to come of this! Why do you never listen to me?!
A tear rolled down Trisha's cheek, and she thought that if Nina called her stupid for this, she would have to agree.