Episode Ten: Al loses Opal
Opalbane was not in her bed.
Instantly, Alessandre felt the urge to kill someone.
Cold sweat beaded on Alessandre's forehead. It also trickled down the back of his neck, to settle in a place between his shoulderblades. Irritated, he swept his hand back and lifted the voluminous wash of blue hair up out of the way. The warm stuffy air in the room hit it, but that was better than the heat his heavy hair always insulated back there.
Clenching his free hand into a fist in front of his face, Alessandre tried to think. He'd been gone for only one day since outing himself to Benactus. Since then he'd been stalking about the city only to realize he was being followed by someone. Alessandre hadn't been sure but his instinct told him that, the way it turned corners, the way it waited patiently but did not threaten… that the sneaky person was Myrielle. Even so, Alessandre wanted to lose his harmless stalker, and that took the better part of the day. As a result, Alessandre made no progress locating any other cultists yesterday.
And now he was back, as if he had a regular schedule and needed to check in every other morning… it was an old trick he used to force enemies that avoided him into a schedule he could predict. But none of that mattered now. In the last twenty four hours Opalbane had disappeared, and he had no idea how long she'd been gone or why.
Panic set in. Alessandre crawled on his knees and peered under the bed. She wasn't there. Just dustbunnies and that pulsating demonic rune drawn in cobalt blue chalk. Eerily, Alessandre got the distinct feeling of being watched. Another sense, so deeply rooted in him that it felt like instinct urged him to look away, because the drawing had another side to it… and someone else was looking at it, looking at him.
Alessandre scrambled back from under the bed.
Anger consumed the rogue. He grabbed the sheets in fists and whipped them off the bed. They landed somewhere behind him, ontop of the manaburn candles that oddly kept burning as if the sheets were a ghost that passed through them. Alessandre's hands shook when again, he found no one, nothing, not a clue of any kind, no evidence. The rage bubbled up inside of him, and he began to exhale powerful, angry breaths that made him shudder. Then he roared and tore up the entire room.
Someone should have heard. Someone should have been startled by all the noise and commotion, but no one came to see what it was. Alessandre sat in the mess of broken bed frame, rent sheets, upturned tables and snapped manaburn candles seething for what must have been an hour. That was when he heard whistling in the hallway.
It was priest Benactus. "Oh, I see that you have a guest, your door is open. How are you today, Opalbane? I don't have much time to change the demonic rune this morning, I have an important meeting—"
Benactus went pale when he saw Alessandre just sitting there amidst the chaos. The dark smoky blue chalk Benactus held in his hand slipped and shattered on the floor.
"What did you do—" Benactus accused.
Despite the apparent maelstrom, Alessandre spoke calmly. It was deeply unsettling. "I am going to kill you. And… you don't know me very well. I am going to enjoy it a great deal, I've been wanting to do it for a long time… open your mouth again, and tell me where she is, Benactus."
A vein in Benactus' neck tightened. "Where is she?" he asked.
"Wrong answer!" Alessandre roared again, and was up on his feet and ontop of the man in two strides. He seized Benactus' neck in one throbbing fist and raised him up off the floor.
Benactus clawed at Alessandre's constricting fingers, but to no avail. Perhaps if there were no manaburn candles, Alessandre would have missed his chance to live, but the reliable tiny blue flames flickered in unison all over the room when Benactus called on his mana, and it made Benactus cringe in pain. That he was trying to cast a spell became obvious. With good rogue instinct, Alessandre put Benactus down and kicked him hard.
"Want to see how enraged rogues deal with casters?" Alessandre flared, and grabbed fistfuls of Benactus' shirt. He slammed him on the ground, and Benactus winced.
"What did you do with her?" Alessandre demanded.
"Did you read her letters?" Benactus thought quickly.
Alessandre snarled at the man and let him go. He was so enraged that he'd forgotten to check the obvious.
"Let me go, Alessandre. I want to find her too!" the old priest cried. The rogue scowled at the other man.
"Fine, but I don't trust you." Alessandre said quickly and stabbed Benactus with a throwing knife from his boot. Benactus cringed and doubled over.
"Don't remove it. I know exactly where I put it, and only I can take it out safely. Now, which would you rather have, your kidneys split open or a mere flesh wound?"
Benactus carefully lay back down.
Now that Benactus was incapacitated, Alessandre turned his back on him and fetched the crinkled letters. They'd slipped out from where Opalbane was hiding them in her pillowcase.
Alessandre read all the things Opalbane had confided in her girlfriends. He was very disappointed to see that his old nemesis, Wisthera was one of them. At first, he was angry to see that she'd shared his secret past as a druid with the Human mage Willypearl, but as he read on about Opalbane's desperation and her obvious love for him, Alessandre felt compelled to forgive her. The curious thing about Opalbane was that she'd managed to maintain her innocence though her life had been terribly difficult. Opalbane had fallen prey to the Twilight Hammer cult, and before that she'd been a troubled shadowpriestess, and even before then, she was an angry and terrified girl who remembered the brutal murder of her parents by demons in Felwood. Alessandre hadn't admitted it, but Shadowstep ordered him to read all her previous correspondence with Willypearl and Wisthera as part of his briefing. It was important evidence in Opalbane's trial a few months ago, but also covered fifteen years of her life. Opalbane was in her twenties now. And this most recent letter was not some kind of attempt to barter in the secrets of his life. It was--and Alessandre almost laughed when he read it,--a set of instructions on how to get a man to like you.
It was very bad advice, at that.
"Benactus," Alessandre addressed the injured priest after he'd withdrawn the tiny dagger from his side. "After you heal yourself, go and speak with the guards. The letters say she planned to walk out of here late last night." Alessandre lied.
"What? But Opalbane can't walk in her condition. And, without her mana, she's defenseless!"
Alessandre nodded. "I know, but someone very selfish wanted her to try. And better for them if she emerged from the cathedral in exactly that state. Do you understand my meaning?"
Priest Benactus nodded.
"We may feel like enemies, but both of us want Opalbane back here safe and sound, don't we?" Benactus asked eagerly, and Alessandre felt sorry for the man. It was obvious now why Opalbane felt towards him the way a daughter would.
Alessandre patted Benactus amiably on the shoulder and urged him to hurry off while he searched; they'd meet again in an hour to share information. But as soon as the priest left, Alessandre muttered to himself, "Why is this always so easy? Never trust a man to read something for you, to think for you… " Then he opened the last letter Wisthera had sent to Opalbane and re-read his first clue to finding her:
Play games with him, Opalbane. Find out what he likes, and then tempt him with that. You might disagree, but I'd be ruthless. I'd catch him completely off guard, offer him things that he should never have… I'd show him what he could have with me, and then make him think he was going to lose me forever…
Alessandre groaned when he read that. So that was why Opalbane had asked him all those questions… and then she made a big deal over not being around forever. Today, she managed to disappear altogether. It was such bad advice. It was true that many men liked a good chase, but some men, like Alessandre hated to be teased. That was the tricky thing about giving advice on love, one was forced to generalize about people's unique hearts. Alessandre considered himself to be a man of action, and he wanted results. "I suppose that you would say elusiveness is one of my turn offs," he allowed himself to joke when it was clear that Opalbane hadn't been kidnapped.
Next was Willypearl's advice:
Girl, you have to be yourself, first of all. Now, it sounds like your man is a helpless romantic from the list you sent me. Isn't that adorable! I really want to meet him once this works out… oh, now I am getting off topic. I think that deep down, Alessandre really wants to enjoy the Love is In the Air holiday. You complained about his 'easy women' comment, but I think he was just tryin' to enjoy the day like all those other couples do. It can be hard on a single person, you know? I'd get a friend to buy some love tokens for him, or maybe some cologne? Make sure there's some chocolate in there. Oh, and here's the most important part. Make sure to enjoy the treats with him. Make it into a date so that he feels special, whether or not he's expecting it. I think he'll like that kind of attention.
Alessandre exhaled, disappointed. Now here was the opposite advice, though it was a bit more practical. These two women, especially Wisthera, were going to ruin poor Opalbane. Well, at least he could assume that Opalbane had listened to Wisthera because she wasn't in her room. So then, where did she go?
"So I'm a romantic deep down, eh? And I thought I was a hopeless lecher and womanizer…" Alessandre thought aloud. Then, it all became clear to him.
Opalbane was still in a lot of danger. There were many people in the city who knew her physical description, all of them desperate and hungry cutthroats. If Faltheriel ever dared venture into the Trade District, he may not hesitate to take her himself, if what Alessandre suspected about the Blood Elf's loyalty to the Burning Legion was correct. Finally, that Opalbane was weak without her mana, and recovering from an addiction to fel mana and alcohol made her a danger to herself. He had to get to her before someone else did. Or, before she got into trouble with Stormwind guards and attacked them like she did last time. That was why the authorities wanted Priestess Feathershine to capture her so badly, so that she could face justice for that embarrassing crime, in addition to betraying the Archmage.
Alessandre knew there was great danger in the rescue, but he couldn't help smiling. "All this to trick me into going on a date with her?"
Alessandre stealthed out of the dormitories and the Cathedral of Light. He chuckled to himself as he observed Priest Benactus grilling the cathedral guards frantically.
When he was free of the Cathedral, Alessandre began to sprint, then shifted into his fast travel form that resembled a cheetah and dashed to the Trade District. He loved being a fast little kitty. Once there, Alessandre shifted into cat form, cloaked and sneaked to a different spot before shifting back into his stealthed rogue form. Then, he decloaked. After searching the crowd for a few moments, he saw what looked like Opalbane, but wasn't sure.
The body was the same but it was wearing the sexiest dress he'd ever seen on a woman.
"That's from Willy's Secret." Alessandre gasped. He suddenly remembered the time he'd visited the store during Winter's Veil. Just like the shopkeeper had demonstrated, the dress caused a woman to look nearly naked when glimpsed in profile. Opalbane was no exception.
Like he'd observed the morning after the first night they spent together, Opalbane was no invalid. She was sick, but he didn't feel repelled by her. She was sultry but defiant. In that moment, Alessandre began to realize just who he was dealing with: an angry and powerful shadowpriestess who wanted him. It caused his legs to feel weak, and all of a sudden he was worried that he wasn't dressed well enough to be with her. Like a nervous teenager, Alessandre suddenly wanted to duck and hide, to go have his hair cut, to go change, or tell Priest Benactus she was there so that he wouldn't have to face the gorgeous woman alone.
But then, Opalbane saw him. Her long white braid slipped over her shoulder as she turned around slowly, and then came to rest between her breasts that throbbed as she moved slightly under the flimsy fabric. The dress was black, like the feral markings on her face. She raised a weak arm that trembled as she beckoned to him. Then, Opalbane collapsed.
"Opal!" Alessandre shouted and rushed over to her. A crowd gathered but Alessandre never got the chance to ask for help. Opalbane glowed funny colors as Paladin blessings of wisdom, mage buffs of arcane intellect, a druid's rejuvenation spell, and priests' blessings of fortitude were cast on her by everyone within range. Alessandre couldn't help but laughing.
"Is she alright?" someone in the crowd asked.
Alessandre smiled at his date. "Yes. Yes, she is. Thank you all." He said, raising his voice to everyone around him.
That is the beautiful thing about the Alliance. You can always count on helpful people and their buffs.
"You came!" Opalbane shuddered and hugged him.
A pang of fear filled Alessandre's heart. "Of course I did. If you wanted me to be yours for the Love is In the Air holiday… why didn't you just tell me? You could have been hurt coming out here!"
Alessandre took Opalbane's hand and helped her back onto her feet. She didn't say anything to answer his question. She let him continue holding her hand until he wasn't just supporting her, but holding her the way a lover would.
"Let's forget about secrets for today, Al. How much time did you buy from Benactus before this place is flooded with guards from the cathedral?"
"About an hour. Less now," he shrugged.
Opalbane urgently began to pull on his arm and lead him away. Alessandre stopped her. He knew there were enemies about, a war going on over this woman though he wasn't sure why. Demons were on one side, and old gods were on the other. Darnassus was someplace in the middle. This was no time to indulge…
But then Alessandre recalled how it felt only a few minutes ago when he thought Opalbane was truly gone.
"Whatever your heart desires, Moonlily." Alessandre kissed Opalbane's hand and they walked off into the festive crowd.