by H J Peterson
“What time is it?” Adelric asked Luca as he grabbed his beer and stood up to go.
He seemed a little confused by the question, but he pulled a beat-up pocket watch from his pocket and looked at it, anyway.
“A little past noon.” Luca shoved his pocket watch back into his back pocket. “Lunch should be here soon. Is that what you wanted to know?”
“Yeah,” Adelric lied. He grabbed his beer and finished it off as Luca did the same.
“Hang in there,” Luca said as he took Adelric’s now empty beer mug.
Luca left, leaving Adelric alone with his thoughts.
The second Adelric heard the trap door close behind Luca, he sat up and stretched his arms above his head. Noon: that meant that he had ten hours until the bar closed and he would be able to get out. Yes, that seemed like plenty of time, but as far as Adelric knew, it wouldn’t be. He hadn’t tried to walk since they broke his legs: he might just fall over the second he tried to stand.
Nervous, he crawled over to a box. It was time to see whether or not his legs were strong enough to run.
He pulled himself up onto the box and sat on it for a few seconds. Heavens, did he hope that Luca had been right about him not being crippled: if he was wrong… well, he didn’t want to think about that possibility.
He stood up.
For a brief second, Adelric nearly fell. He wobbled as his legs tried to find their strength, but eventually, he was able to steady himself. His legs throbbed, but otherwise, he was okay.
Grimacing, Adelric tried to walk. He wasn’t about to waste a second of his ten hours.
Adelric put on the ratty coat he’d found in the basement that day. He’d discovered the bin of clothes–one of many he’d found while trying to get his legs to properly function–among the barrels of alcohol. The bins hid just about every disguise he and everyone else in Bator’s gang had ever worn on a mission: the suit he’d worn to the Überhaus when he killed Lord Saaltz, the dress Klara had worn; but, it was the beggar’s clothes he cared about. Those were the clothes he put on: a tattered coat with specialized pockets for Alchemists, patched trousers, shoes with the soles nearly worn through, socks that looked like a chew toy, a hat, some lock picks hidden in a leather pouch that could be tied to his forearm: hopefully, it would all be enough for him to go unnoticed through the night-time streets of Königstadt.
He looked into a nearby, cracked mirror to finish the disguise, rubbing some charcoal from a hearth in the corner onto his face. His transformation was complete: he’d gone from being the average citizen of Königstadt to being your average street bum.
He grabbed some essentials from around the basement before he left: potassium and other metals any self-respecting Alchemist had on him at all times. And, of course, his violin.
He made his way up the stairs and silently opened the cellar door.
He poked his head out and looked around. Sure enough, everyone was gone: everybody had left for the night, just as he thought they had.
He didn’t leave quite yet, though: there were always people in there to protect Fekete Halál’s hide-out. They were probably just hidden, somewhere.
He climbed out of the basement, shut the trap door as silently as he could, and made his way to the front door, avoiding the floor boards that he knew creaked.
After about a minute, Adelric finally reached the door.
He sighed. Almost there.
He unlocked the door and opened it-
Ring! The little bell above the door chimed cheerfully.
Adelric froze for a few seconds, the blood draining from his face. Stupid! How could he forget that stupid bell?
He heard movement from upstairs.
Not wasting a second more, he ran through the doorway, slamming the door shut behind him. He began running as fast as he could down the street to… somewhere. Where should he go? He couldn’t go to his apartment: they would find him there. The only place that he could really think of where Bator and his men wouldn’t be able to get to him was the police station.
So, he ran towards the center of the city.
He didn’t get very far before someone saw him. He heard someone shouting behind him, and when he looked over his shoulder, he saw a few people coming out of the pub, including Bator, himself. All of them were holding what looked to be pistols, and one of them was taking aim at him.
Adelric ducked into an alleyway just as they started shooting, his heart just about leaping out of his chest.
He opened one of the pockets in his sleeve, dropping a piece of coal into his hand, and began rubbing his hand in charcoal. He had no other options, now: he either got away, or he died.
Adelric let the coal on his hand combust, then threw his hand back, forcing the fire from his hands to leave his hand. He didn’t stop to look at who his fire hit as someone began screaming out in pain: he wouldn’t be able to do that, again, if he thought about it.
He turned another corner and began climbing up the nearest fire escape. Bator wouldn’t be able to climb up to get him: his prosthetic leg didn’t allow for it. He would only have to face his goons, now.
Once he got to the roof, he looked down at where he’d just climbed from to see who was coming up. Sure enough, only one person had dared to climb up after him: Bator hung back, with whoever he’d burned. The third person was making incredible progress, practically running up the fire escape: he didn’t have much time.
Frantic, Adelric threw more flames down at the person coming up the ladder, hoping–praying–that they would just leave him alone.
It didn’t work. The person coming up the ladder just used his coat as a shield, hardly even bothering to slow down.
Shit! It was one of Bator’s Hazers. He always had one around, just in case.
And, judging by the way this one moved, it was one of his best.
Even more panicked than before, Adelric grabbed the ladder and forced power into his hands.
Thank heaven, it didn’t take too long for things to take effect. The metal began to melt in his hands as the Hazer got closer, glowing red hot, then white hot, beneath his hands.
The second the metal was melted enough, he pushed it over, sending the fire escape toppling over.
The Hazer wasn’t fast enough to avoid that. They fell right down with the fire escape, cursing the whole way.
It was while the Hazer was going down that Adelric realized something: he knew who it was. That voice wasn’t exactly one that people could forget once they got acquainted with it.
It was Klara.
Adelric didn’t allow himself to think about it. He ran across the rooftop, in the direction of the police station.
As much as Adelric would’ve liked to just focus on getting to the police station alive and uninjured, he couldn’t. He hadn’t exactly been on friendly terms with Klara before all this, and yet, he couldn’t stop thinking about what he’d done. He’d just killed her! And that other person, the one he’d burned: that one would raise his death toll to three if he didn’t make it. Three kills in a few weeks.
Adelric found himself praying for forgiveness as he ran towards the police station.
What have I done?
XVIII. FRIEDRICH
Friedrich sat at Hiro’s desk, waiting, drumming his fingers nervously on the desk. His mind was still reeling at what had happened at Lord Dubois’ home. The meeting, Hiro showing up with Brooks, Florian; all of it was just… it was like one of those penny stories come true.
Now, he was waiting for Hiro to get back and talk to him about what had happened. Brooks and Katalin were already talking at a desk across the room from where he was, and had been for some time. Hiro, however, had gone straight to one of the Docs when they got to the station: Brooks had insisted on it, as had Chief Berkowitz. Chief Berkowitz, himself, was talking with Lord Dubois in his office. Florian was currently sitting in a cell in the basement, waiting for his turn, under the guard of a few beat cops. That left him alone with his thoughts. Thoughts he didn’t
exactly want. Thoughts of murder, thoughts of whatever Florian had been babbling about. The Archangel, he imagined. Whatever it was, it had been terrifying. Absolutely terrifying. Friedrich didn’t think he’d ever seen that look in a man’s eyes, before.
And at that point, he didn’t think he’d ever forget it, either.
Finally, Hiro came over to the desk and sat down.
“Are you alright?” Friedrich asked.
“Just fine, my lord,” Hiro said stiffly. “Let’s get this over with: I’m sure you and the countess would like to get home as soon as possible.”
Friedrich nodded and sighed. So, it was going to be like this, again.
“First: what were you doing at Lord Dubois’ estate, today?” Hiro asked as she pulled out her notepad and a pen.
“It was a business meeting,” Friedrich said. “Lord Dubois has been looking for new associates ever since Lord Saaltz was… incapacitated. My father was thinking about filling that void, and he sent me to see if a deal could be reached.”
Hiro nodded as she wrote that down. “And was Countess von Thurzó involved in this deal, as well?”
“No: she thought it might be nice to go to lunch, even if it was a business one,” Friedrich said.
Hiro wrote that down, too.
“Do you… really need to know that last part?” Friedrich asked.
“The chief wants to make certain that everyone’s reasons for being where they were are recorded,” Hiro said bluntly. “Due to some evidence that I can’t share, we can’t be certain that anybody’s motives are what they may appear to be at face value.”
Friedrich couldn’t help but wonder what she was talking about. What evidence? What had happened? But, he didn’t ask: he knew that she wouldn’t leak police information, and it would probably end up in the papers soon enough, anyway.
“What did you witness this afternoon,” Hiro asked.
Friedrich frowned. “I… I’m sorry, but why bother asking that? You were there, too, after all?”
The second he said it, he knew the reason. They had to make sure Hiro hadn’t broken any rules. If they thought she did, she would face a disciplinary hearing. She might get suspended if they found her guilty of anything, maybe even fired. She had to make certain that everybody there verified that she hadn’t done anything against protocol.
“I saw Florian come into the courtyard after you’d been there for a few minutes and had talked to Lord Dubois about him,” Friedrich recounted. “You asked him to come with you, and he drew his gun. You drew yours, and you ordered him to put the gun down. He put his gun up to his head, and you tackled him to keep him from…” Friedrich swallowed. “He elbowed you in the face and tried to get his gun, which he’d dropped. And then, Brooks came, told him to surrender, and he did. And then, we all came down to the station.”
Hiro finished writing that down.
“Are you… are you going to get in trouble for tackling Florian?” Friedrich asked.
“I don’t know,” she said as she set the pen down. “The handbook says that we aren’t to get physical with suspects unless they’re posing a serious threat to the well-being of an officer or a bystander. I… don’t know where self-harm comes into play.”
“For what it’s worth, I think you did the right thing,” Friedrich said. “And if it comes to a disciplinary hearing, I’ll be more than happy to testify on your behalf.”
Hiro bit her lip. “Thank you.”
They were quiet for a few moments.
“Do you… think we could ever be friends?” Friedrich asked.
“Friends?” Hiro asked. And Friedrich got the awful feeling that she was going to say something cold in response to that.
Instead, she sighed. “I don’t know, Friedrich. I really don’t know.”
Before they could say anything else, a familiar face began to walk up to the desk.
Friedrich blinked. “E-Eltz?”
His father, Lord Eltz, didn’t look happy as he approached: his face was screwed up in that cold, hard frown of his. The one he always had on his face whenever something inconvenienced him. “Inspector: are you just about done with my son?”
“Yes, sir,” Hiro said, holding his iron gaze with her own. “We just finished up.”
“Excellent,” Eltz said. “Friedrich, I need to have a word with you.”
Friedrich looked at Hiro for a moment, then stood up and followed his father to the hallway, just outside from where the main office was.
“I need to know what happened at the meeting with Lord Dubois,” Eltz said. “Every detail.”
If Friedrich hadn’t known any better, he might have thought that he was talking about the fact that he’d had a gun pointed at him, that day. That he would’ve had to witness a man take his own life if it weren’t for Hiro’s quick thinking. But, this was Dieter Eltz, a man without a soul: he was, of course, talking about the business part of the meeting.
“You don’t want his business,” Friedrich said. “He’s not loyal.”
“I didn’t need this meeting to tell me that,” Eltz said bluntly.
“He blatantly offered his business to Count von Thurzó with me sitting right there,” Friedrich said.
Eltz raised an eyebrow. “That girl didn’t take the offer, did she?”
Friedrich’s fists clenched at his sides. That girl. He’d given his blessing; why couldn’t he seem to accept her, still? “No: she’s smarter than that.”
“Good,” Eltz said. “We’re going to go to Lord Ackers and Lord Krieger, tomorrow. We’re going to form a coalition with the two of them, and we’re going to put that bastard Dubois in his place.”
Eltz turned and began to walk towards the stairs.
Unholy bastard!
Eltz turned to look at him, raising that damned eyebrow. “What did you say?”
Friedrich felt the blood drain from his face. Had he really said that out loud?
Well, it was too late to back out of it, now. “I could’ve gotten shot, today. That madman could’ve turned his gun on me, or Katalin, or Dubois instead of himself. Hiro could’ve reacted slower than she had. One of us could’ve died. And all you want to know about is business. Do you even care?”
Eltz didn’t say anything for a few seconds. And in those few seconds, anger boiled up in Friedrich. He was clenching his fists so tightly, he thought his knuckles might burst. He wanted to go right up to his father and punch him. Punch him right in the mouth. Yell. Ask him if there was ever a moment that he thought about other people instead of business.
“Friedrich, the good of the house is always more important than the good of any individual member of it,” Eltz said. “That includes you, just as it includes me.”
Friedrich was speechless.
“Now, let’s get home,” Eltz said.
“I’m not going with you,” Friedrich said.
Eltz raised an eyebrow. “What?”
“I’m not going to go with you,” Friedrich repeated. “I’m going to stay here, and I’m going to make sure Katalin gets home safely.”
“I’m sure the police are completely capable of doing that.”
Friedrich still didn’t move.
“Fine,” Eltz huffed. “Consider yourself lucky that she’s useful, boy: otherwise, you’d be out on the street.”
He walked away.
Friedrich cursed under his breath and walked back into the main office. What did he do to deserve a father like Eltz?
XIX. HIRO
Hiro sighed after Friedrich left, massaging her mouth. One of the Docs had fixed it right up, but it still hurt like hell. Her teeth throbbed in the front of her mouth, and according to the Doc, it would throb for the rest of the night. Maybe even some in the morning. She was to stay away from foods that were too tough and too hard for the next few days, just to make certain that her teeth had really healed. No steak, no chicken, no candy. The first and third option weren’t exactly going to be hard (she didn’t have the money for either of those things) but chicken
? That was practically half of her diet.
“Special delivery!” Enrico walked up to her with a bag of food. Chien Saang’s Authentic Hanjan Cuisine, according to the red lettering on the front of the bag. “I hope I remembered your usual order right.”
“Frankly, I could eat cardboard right now,” Hiro said as Enrico set the bag down and sat in the seat Friedrich had been just minutes before. She pulled out the take-out box at the top of the bag, labeled unagi tempura. “You at least got the unagi part right.”
“Of course,” Enrico said. “Remember when we were studying for that test a few months ago and I forgot it? I thought you were going to kill me.”
Hiro’s cheeks started to burn as she pulled out the next box: fried pork. That one was definitely Enrico’s. “Sorry about that.”
“No worries,” Enrico said as he took the fried pork box. He pulled out the next box and handed it to her: yakisoba. “I also got some gyoza. Was that one of yours?”
Hiro shook her head. “I just get the unagi and the yakisoba.”
He shrugged as he pulled out the last of the boxes. “More for me, then.”
They opened up all of their boxes and began to eat.
Heaven, did that food hit the spot. Chien Saang’s always had, of course, but after a long day like that one, a taste of home was exactly what the doctor had ordered. And Chien Saang’s always delivered. They were one of the only truly authentic Hanjan restaurants in Königstadt: the rest of them always tried to cater too much to Vorbereicher tastes, to the point where it didn’t even taste the way it was supposed to, anymore. That, and Chien Saang had always given the Ikedas discounts. In fact, they ate for free half the time, courtesy of Ichirou’s… accident.
“Should I have ordered double portions for you?” Enrico asked as Hiro scarfed down the food.