by Kyra Quinn
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Little Miss Apocalypse
It was almost morning before we reached Carramar. Every inch of my body pulsated with pain. The endless trek rendered my legs all but numb. Each step on the cobbled roads felt like broken glass trapped in the soles of my shoes. ‘Not far’ for an angel turned out to be an eternity for a human girl.
When my hobbled pace slowed the others enough to become an annoyance, Remiel led us to an antiquated brownstone inn on the outskirts of town. He said center city still laid hours away on foot. A single lantern hung over the doorway of the building. A sign hung above the arch of the doorway, the words scrawled in sloppy print impossible to decipher in the dark. Most of the windows on the upper floors were dark. Only the lower floor appeared illuminated with light.
From the look of things, the hostel had seen better days. Empty flowerbeds sat beneath the windowsills. The heavy wooden door groaned as Remiel pushed it open with his shoulder. The roof appeared one storm away from crumbling to pieces. I glanced back at the empty stables on the left of the inn before following Remiel inside.
I opened my mouth to suggest we find somewhere else to stay, but it was too late. The moment he pushed the door open, a younger woman with short powder blue hair appeared behind the massive bar to greet us. She wiped her hands down the wrinkled apron tied around her waist and glared at Remiel.
“You lookin’ for a drink or a room?” Her hand locked on her hip. Sleek red goo covered her lips. Dark chalk rimmed her chocolate eyes. She wore a bad attitude and a puffy white blouse buttoned over her chest, her legs hidden from view.
“A room, if you please.” Remiel reached into his breast pocket. He pulled out a small leather wallet and tossed a few coins on the table. “There’s a little tip in there for you if you skip the part about the name.”
The girl could take a hint. She scooped the money into her hands and smirked. “Welcome, Mr. Sir. If you’ll wait one moment, I will show you to your accommodations.”
She shoved the money into her pocket and lifted a ring of keys from the desk. Her heels clacked against the tile floors as she stepped out into the main lobby. “If you’d please follow me right this way.”
Her hips swayed as she led us down a narrow hallway, Viktor’s eyes glued to her curvy backside. I swallowed back my disgust as I rolled my eyes. No matter what species they were, men didn’t change.
The innkeeper led us to a decrepit staircase I didn’t trust to hold our weight. It creaked as we marched up in a single file line, Remiel’s back to my face and Viktor behind me. Did my disguise still work without the hat? Or would the innkeeper gossip with the rest of Carramar about the working girl who checked in draped in rags?
She set us up in the first room on the right. She placed a brass key in Remiel’s hand. “If you need anything...well, don’t.”
“Helpful.” Remiel rolled his eyes as she sashayed away back down the hall.
I pushed past the men and stepped into the room, eager to take off my boots and rest for a while before we embarked on our next adventure. Carpet the color of stomach bile covered the floor. A single bed sat positioned in the room’s center. A mahogany dresser rested against the wall, a pair of parlor chairs positioned in front of a small brick fireplace. I walked over to the bed and slammed my body against the mattress. The soft comforter greeted me like a pillow of clouds after my journey.
Viktor and Remiel stepped into the room. Remiel pressed the door closed and engaged the locks, his movements slow. Dark circles rimmed his eyes as he yawned. Viktor stood tall by his side, but the frequency of his blinking betrayed his fatigue.
A groan left my lips as I rose from the bed. I patted the mattress and smiled. “Why don’t you gentlemen rest? I think I’ll draw up a bath and soak for a spell. Get it? A spell?” When no one laughed, I groaned. “Come on. I’m only trying to ease some of the tension.”
Viktor rolled his eyes, but I could hear the amusement in his voice. “Just like a girl. Avoid your problems and look good doing it. Typical.”
“I should stay awake and watch the door.” Remiel straightened his spine. “Someone has to keep an eye out for trouble.”
“Trouble won’t find me in the bathtub,” I assured him in my gentlest voice. “Go on, rest for a little while. We’ll find the mage when you wake.”
Remiel didn’t look convinced, but he nodded. “Very well. Take your time. Nothing can harm you without breaking that door down and facing us.”
How reassuring. I swallowed back my quip and escaped into the washroom. A child-sized china bathtub sat in the left corner, a steel toilet on the right. A small sink stood behind the door, the rest of the room filled with grungy, cold tile. So much for my plans to relax.
I drew the bath before stepping out of my clothes as if the tattered fabric was my only armor against whatever might come through the door. The hairs on my body stood straight when I slipped out of the clothing and into the warm water. I submerged as much of my body below the water as I could. Pale strands of hair floated over my shoulders and chest, but I had no soap to wash it with. I rubbed a section between my thumb and index finger, my mind lost in thoughts.
The idea came midway through my attempted soak. I leapt from the tub and snatched the half-sized thin towel from the rack above the toilet. I wrapped it around my body and scurried back out into the room. Remiel laid asleep in the bed’s center, Viktor curled up in one of the parlor chairs. I tried to keep my steps light as I sprinted over to Viktor and shook his knee.
“Viktor? Viktor wake up. I need your help with something,” I whispered, careful not to wake Remiel. An angel at half strength would be more useful later than one plagued by fatigue.
“Hmm?” Viktor squinted an eye open. When he caught sight of the towel and water droplets that ran from my skin, he bolted upright and rubbed his face. “What’s the trouble, Miss Lili? Are you okay?”
“No, everything is fine.” For now. “I need you to help me, so we can extend that.”
“What do you mean?”
I reached for a chunk of my hair and lifted it up to show him. “Shears. I need shears to get rid of this.”
Viktor’s eyes bulged until I worried they might fall from his skull. “Why in Anja’s name would you want to do something like that?”
“I need a disguise. It’s not a permanent solution, but it will buy me a little more time if I can pass for a man.”
Viktor snorted. “No one with eyes could ever mistake you for a man, haircut or not.”
I didn’t know why, but something about Viktor’s comment sent a wave of heat rushing to my face. I bit my lip, my eyes glued to the puddle gathering beneath my feet. “Say you’ll help me. Please.”
Viktor groaned as he rose to his feet. “Very well. If you want to cut your hair, I won’t stop you. But I think it’s a mistake. You’ll regret it as soon as it’s too late to change your mind.”
I shook my head, but his words planted seeds of doubt in my stomach. I pulled the towel closer. “It’s my hair, and this is what I want. Besides, it’ll grow back. I found that out after the first time my father tried to trim my hair at home.”
Viktor didn’t crack a smile. He slipped his boots on and shuffled towards the door with a scowl burned onto his mouth. “I’ll find the shears. But wait, it happens to every woman,” he grumbled. “You all whine about wanting a haircut until you find the nerve and chop it off. Then you spend the next two seasons upset it’s too short to style.”
I rolled my eyes. Aside from a low-maintenance ponytail or a braid, I couldn’t remember the last time I’d wasted the time and effort on an intricate hairstyle. I’d miss the ability to pull my hair back and out of my eyes, but hair was a small sacrifice for safety.
When the door swung closed behind Viktor, I shuffled back into the washroom and thanked the gods Remiel had slept through the entire exchange. I didn’t have to ask to know he wouldn’t approve of such a rash decision. For men who claimed to not want me around, he and Viktor s
ure seemed to enjoy barking orders at me.
I finished drying off and dressed back into my clothes from before. My nose wrinkled as I slid the dirty fabric over my skin. With any luck perhaps Remiel could acquire new threads somewhere in town. I hung the towel and tiptoed back into the bedroom, relieved to find Remiel still asleep.
I slid into a chair in front of the fire, the wood still warm from Viktor’s body heat. My limbs grew heavy as I used the arm of the chair to prop my head with my elbow. The room felt warm, too warm. My eyelids drifted closed within seconds. Before I could stop it, I passed out in front of the fire.
I stayed that way until a hard shove on my shoulder roused me from my slumber some hours later. My eyes snapped open to see Viktor looming over me, a sharp pair of shears between his fingers.
“Still require assistance?” He wiggled the scissors as he spoke.
I nodded, my mouth dry. I reached for the shears, but Viktor shook his head.
“Come, I’ll help you. Cutting your own hair is an even worse idea.”
I rolled my eyes but didn’t argue. I shot a glance towards the bed where Remiel snored into a pillow and followed Viktor into the washroom. The cold tiles against my bare feet sent a shiver up my body. My gut churned as Viktor’s eyes caught mine. The decision had seemed so simple in the bath. Why did I want to flee the hostel now?
Viktor snapped the shears open and closed as he flashed me a grin. “How short did you have in mind?”
I shot a glance at the mirror at the long caramel hair cascading down my back. Father had never allowed me to cut my hair above my shoulders before. Father said short hair didn’t become ladies and no man would wish to court me if I didn’t display my best feminine features. My nose crinkled.
“Right about here.” I placed the side of my hand against my neck below my earlobe. “If it looks horrid, we can chop it off.”
“As you wish. Have a seat on the toilette. It’ll make your head easier to reach.”
Within moments, locks of my hair gathered on the floor at my feet. Viktor hummed under his breath as he worked, the feel of his hands against my scalp activating the butterflies in my stomach once more. Nature and musk clung to his shirt as he leaned against my face, the shears snapping above me.
“Your hair is thick,” he mumbled, equal parts annoyed and impressed. “This might take a little while.”
I glanced down at the massive pile of hair in my lap and on the ground and swallowed. Maybe I’d be able to make a wig from the scraps if it turned out too terrible.
The bathroom door swung open. Remiel stood in the doorway with a bemused frown as his eyes darted between me and Viktor.
“What’s this?” He gestured towards the shears.
Viktor shrugged and pointed at my head with the tip of the scissors. “Her idea. I’m only an accomplice.”
“What idea? What in Zanox’s name are you two doing?”
“I thought it would help.” My eyes fell to my lap. “I figured men’s clothes were a good place to start, but I’d be harder to recognize if I did more to alter my appearance.”
Remiel’s lips tightened. “So you cut off your hair? That’s the best you could come up with?”
My stomach clenched. “I don’t need your permission. It’s my hair, and I’ll chop it off if I damn well please.”
Remiel tilted his chin, his arms crossed over his chest. “Very well. Hurry in here. We’ve wasted too much time already. We need to find the mage, Lady Gemma.” He slammed the door shut before anyone could argue, Viktor and I alone once more.
I turned the heat of my glare on Viktor. “I appreciate your help.”
Viktor smirked and shrugged as he combed his hands through what remained of my hair. “Anytime. Hold still, you heard Remi. We need to work fast.”
I clenched my jaw as Viktor finished his work, my blood hot as I stared a hole into the door. I’d only need Remiel’s help for a little while longer. As soon as the spirit mage worked her magic, I’d be invisible to those who hunted me, free to abandon the angel and forge my own path. I didn’t even need Remiel. I still had to save his angelic ass when the fights broke out. The only value he offered was information.
“Done,” Viktor said after a few moments. He brought the shears to his lips and blew a stray clump of hair, then said, “Give it a peek and see what you think.”
I stood and walked over towards the sink as if in a daze, my knees weak. Did I even want to know? I couldn’t be self-conscious about my appearance without the awareness of how bad it looked. A small voice urged me to walk out of the washroom without a glance at the mirror, to leave it to my imagination to fill in the blanks.
I lifted my eyes to the mirror, my stomach in knots. My heart stopped when I caught sight of my reflection. I looked nothing like a man, but I still didn’t recognize the girl on the other side. I reached out and caressed the glass, my mouth open.
“I left a little more on there than you asked for, but I don’t think it’d look right shorter. Hope you don’t mind.” Viktor’s reflection appeared behind me.
I couldn’t deny he was right. He’d left the length just above my chin. The messy bob gave my appearance an edge I’d never seen in myself. Between the cut on my forehead and Viktor’s artistry with my hair, a whole new person blinked at me in the mirror. She looked older, wiser. More dangerous.
“Done with the narcissism? I hate to interrupt, but we need to head out.” Viktor grinned.
I jammed my elbow into his stomach and stepped away from the sink. “Come. Let’s take our leave before Remiel’s head explodes.”
* * *
The moon hung high above the city as we made our way into Carramar. For every similarity I’d seen between Mulgrave and Faomere, Carramar presented a different world entirely. Brick and brownstone buildings adorned with vaulted timber roofs towered along the wide roads. Though it had to be close to midnight, the shops remained open for business. At least two dozen people filled the streets, however many more unseen inside.
“What is this?” My steps slowed as I marveled at the sea of bodies around us. The women wore skirts cut short enough to reveal miles of bare legs and ankles. Men pranced around with their ties loosely knotted below their necks. A rainbow of colors surrounded us. Second-hand smoke and orchids perfumed the thick, muggy air.
“Carramar.” Remiel’s eyes swooped over the marketplace. “The busiest, and deadliest, city in Astryae. On the bright side, it will not be easy to locate you here in the crowd.”
“Delightful.” I sucked my teeth. “Where do we find this mage?”
“This way. From what they told me, she has a tent on the other side of the market.”
A tent? I glanced around the street, half-expecting to find a striped canvas tent in the street’s center. “What is this, a carnival act?”
“Close enough.” Viktor’s nose scrunched.
“So much for being the sophisticated part of Astryae. Faomere would never allow such open solicitation.”
“Would you two shut your bone boxes and come on?” Remiel barked. “How about spending at least five minutes in a place before you determine its level of sophistication? Carramar has made more strides towards progress in two years than Faomere has in twenty.”
I fidgeted with my hair and avoided Remiel’s eyes. “It was a joke. Do angels not come programmed with a sense of humor?”
Remiel flipped me off in response. I gritted my teeth as Viktor’s smirk caught the corner of my eye. At least someone found our situation amusing.
I couldn’t decide if it was the haircut or the busier area, but no one gave us strange looks as we passed by. The crowd parted with ease as we made our way through the bustle of the city. I stuck close to Remiel and Viktor, my eyes on the red dirt below. The size of the crowd wouldn’t be enough to discourage supernatural beings from attacking.
“When we arrive, let me handle the conversation,” Remiel said. “Mages can be temperamental, and I cannot afford for either of you to muff this up.”
I rolled my eyes but didn’t protest. I’d done enough damage in the last few days. As much as I wanted Remiel to be wrong, everything I touched seemed to crumble beneath my fingers. I never thought the day would come when I stood behind a man and let him speak for me. But I also never expected to find myself engaged in more fights than I could handle at once.
Soon the noise of the city was behind us. The cluster of buildings thinned out as we wandered further from the center of the city. The buildings ahead of us were smaller and more modest in design, likely residential homes and smaller shops. A small light flickered in the distance. I squinted against the darkness to find a beige and white tent, a small fire pit a few feet in front.
As Remiel led us to the tent, a whimsical tune pierced my ears. I squinted as I tried to identify the sound, the music drifting out from the open flap in front of the tent. Heat pricked my skin as we walked by the fire and approached.
Remiel cleared his throat. “Excuse me, we are here to speak with Lady Gemma.”
“One moment!” Footsteps scurried behind the flap. Something crashed against the ground as whoever was inside shuffled things around.
My mouth twisted. Father always cautioned against forming opinions based on first impressions, but Lady Gemma had a long way to go to impress me.
“Lady Gemma will see you now,” she called a few moments later, the rasp of her voice a dead giveaway for her addiction to the pipe.
I followed Remiel out of the darkness and into the tent. A cold sweat glued my trousers to my legs. I didn’t know what to expect from the visit. Did magic hurt? Would it leave scars or brands? How did anyone know if her spells would be strong enough to work?
“Good evening and welcome.” The woman seated at the table in the room’s center welcomed us, her lips curved in a knowing smile. Thick dark braids fell down her back, her russet eyes curious as we entered. The loose sleeves of her dress fluttered as she waved and said, “I am Lady Gemma, healer to the land and all its inhabitants. What brings you to my tent?”