"So you actually like it?"
"No, I think it completely sucks and I would give anything to have it stop," Gabriel said sarcastically. "There, will that help you sleep at night?"
"There's no need to be—whatever you're being," Vel grumbled. "I just can't understand it."
The door opened, and the doll-like clerk who'd admitted them said with a fake smile, "Your room's ready, gentlemen. This way, please."
"About time," Gabriel declared, jumping up. They followed the girl upstairs to a slightly quieter corridor and into a lavishly furnished bedroom. Gabriel slipped her a banknote when she turned to leave. "Not a word to anyone, okay?"
The girl made the money disappear and nodded. When she left, Gabriel flopped down onto the king-sized bed with a long sigh, closing his eyes. Vel hung around awkwardly, trying not to inhale the not-so-subtle musk of sex hanging in the room. He went to the window and pried the rusty thing open. The air outside didn't smell very nice either, but at least it was refreshingly cold. He glanced at Gabriel's unmoving form. "Um, I don't think you should be lounging around on that blanket like that."
"Eh, it's not lethal unless I'm fucking it," Gabriel muttered into his arm. "Go sit down, you're doing that tensing-up thing again, I can tell without looking by now."
There were no chairs, so Vel leaned against the wall instead. There was a low desk with a mirror, but he refused to touch either. They waited.
Finally, quick footsteps approached their room, and a moment later Diva pushed open the half-shut door, eyes wide and hair windswept. She froze for a second upon seeing Vel, and then they were hugging, tightly enough that Vel had time to get his trembling under control, though the fear was multiplying with every second that ticked past. He couldn't do it. He couldn't tell her.
He took small comfort in the clean, unremarkable scent in Diva's hair. That probably meant her shift hadn't started yet. Vel didn't know if he could handle it right now if his sister had just returned from a day's worth of clients. Diva pulled back first, blinking too fast, eyes wet. "Oh, Vel, I—I heard, they told me yesterday. I'm so, so sorry. How… how are you?"
Vel hated himself for the wave of relief that crashed through him. He forced a smile. "I'm okay. The army's been fun. Um… here." He brought out the photo and pressed it into her hand without looking at it. "I want you to take care of this. It's… I dunno. I just don't want to see it yet."
"Of course, anything you need," she said quickly, sniffing. "How… I mean, what happened?" she whispered.
"I don't want to talk about it," Vel said quickly, turning to Gabriel, who was sitting against the pillows, watching them patiently. "I'm here so he can explain some stuff to both of us. About Damien. Isn't he?"
"He most certainly is," Gabriel replied solemnly. Then he grinned and waved. "Hi, Diva. I'm Gabriel Kresil."
Diva's eyes went even larger. "Oh. Hello," she said faintly.
"Do all members of the Matthews family have something against sitting down?" Gabriel muttered. He patted the space beside him. "Join me?"
To Vel's surprise, Diva went over and perched on the edge of the bed. They both seemed to possess the same indifference towards the undoubtedly filthy piece of furniture. Vel was uneasy just looking at it. Diva said quietly, "We've been trying to find you for a long time. Ever since Damien's… accident."
"I know."
"And now you're—what? You're just going to decide to tell us what really happened after all these years?"
"Yes."
"Why?" Diva demanded, suddenly outraged. "Why now, especially when my little brother's just lost somebody so dear to him? It's not exactly the best time!"
"Would you rather I told you a few years later when he's a little less sensitive, then?"
"No," Vel and Diva said together. Vel added, "Stop being an asshole."
Gabriel just smiled. "What feisty personalities. I like." He took a deep breath, growing serious. "Various rules and regulations prevented me from doing so earlier. Actually, I'm still bound by them, but right now I'm saying fuck 'em and tell you anyway. Damien Matthews was murdered."
Nobody moved. Vel was the first to react, slumping against the wall. He didn't even feel shocked—somehow, he'd known that it was connected, ever since Gabriel had disclosed exactly what kind of friendship he shared with Damien. It had all started with Gabriel. Vel couldn't spare the energy to be angry at one more person. "Was it the same man?" he asked, feeling worn to the bone. "The person who…. On Tuesday."
"It was," Gabriel said straightforwardly. "Though I would hesitate to call him a man anymore. He was a sorcerer who practiced black magic—or tried to, anyway. He wasn't very good at it, and when his wife succumbed to cancer, he couldn't save her. I couldn't save her, though he got some twisted idea that I could, and I still can. He started killing my friends. He thought I'd break all the laws and save them—"
"Why didn't you?" Vel said bleakly. "You could've."
"No," Gabriel snapped, and for once his irritation was directed solely at Vel. "Don't think for one moment I didn't do everything I could to stop him. He killed my friends, Vel. Eleven of them. Take a minute to digest that." He paused, but carried on two seconds later. "We managed to find him after Serpent's death. The whole army was involved. We killed him. And now… now he's a vengeful spirit of some sort. I have no idea what sort of crazy ritual he's done; I haven't seen him since he escaped. But I know he's still acting on the same motives he had before he died, like he's following a trend—you're a soldier, and you're related to Serpent. That was enough for him to target you."
Through the confusing torrent of information flooding his mind, Vel picked up an anomaly in Gabriel's story. "You killed him, he came back as a ghost, and he escaped? What?"
"Oh. Yeah. Back when training first started, Elstrin came to Mernot for a dismissal. I'm sure you know the details. The sorcerer tried to attack him there, that's how we knew he was back. We caught him shortly afterwards, but he… escaped."
"How?"
"Who cares how?" Diva burst out uncharacteristically, leaping to her feet, desperate and horrified at the same time. "Our brother was murdered, and—why have you even kept this from us? What exactly was the harm in us knowing? All we ever wanted was some closure, and instead we were given some flimsy excuse—"
"Fine. You want the full details?" Gabriel said sharply. "Serpent was found four whole days after he died, dumped in a ditch, and his—" He stopped again, something haunted flashing through his eyes. He exhaled shakily. His voice was steady when he next spoke. "No. No, I'm sorry, you shouldn't know. It… it'll only give you nightmares. God knows it's robbed me of plenty of sleep. What's important is he didn't suffer very long. That's a fact, okay? He didn't suffer. Do you want to know his last words?"
"I already do," Diva whispered. "Vel told me."
"Okay then." Gabriel gazed up at her guardedly. "Still going to shout at me?"
"No, I'm done," she mumbled, sitting on the bed again. Then she buried her face in her hands and began sobbing.
"Shit," Vel said, hurrying towards her, ignoring her half-hearted attempts to push him away. He wrapped his arms around her and stroked her hair lightly. "Hey. Shh, sis. It's okay. It's okay," he repeated pointlessly, and eventually she calmed down some. He knew how to comfort most women: hug and hold. Painfully easy. He wished he could tolerate embraces like that without wanting to claw his eyes out or drink until he blacked out. He wished he wasn't too impatient to pull himself together after a few simple minutes of silence and warmth.
Gabriel was sitting cross-legged on the blanket, staring dejectedly at the stained floral pattern, absently picking at a loose thread. "I wish I could've changed the way it all turned out," he said to his hands. "But that bastard was cunning, and I wasn't as strong as I used to be. But I wish Serpent were still here, Vel… Diva. I wish that every single day. He was my best friend."
Diva nodded, gulping, wiping her eyes hastily. "I believe you." Vel kept his arm around her. Gabriel shrugged. "Yeah, w
ell… now you know."
"Now we know," Diva agreed heavily. She steeled herself and stood, looking around the room once. "I can't work today, not like this. God, I never thought…"
"I'll give you a lift back," Gabriel offered. "My bike seats three people."
The arrangement was uncomfortable, with Vel sandwiched in the middle to give Diva as much space as possible at the back of the motorcycle, but at least the journey was quick, the engine too loud to talk over. And the streets were largely empty, pedestrians probably scared indoors by the patrolling soldiers. Gabriel slowed to a stop in front of Vel's place. Diva stepped off the bike, looking unnerved by Gabriel's driving. "I'll go make something, you must be starving," she said quickly, hurrying indoors.
Gabriel raised his eyebrows after her. "Nice girl," he remarked. "But I bet she'll be a handful to babysit as well."
"Could you just…" Vel sighed. "I mean, thanks for… everything, and all that. But I just want to spend some time with my sister. Alone. I haven't seen or talked to her for ages. We've got lots to discuss."
"You're not even technically supposed to be here anymore," Gabriel pointed out. "Stag wants you back up at HQ as soon as possible. All the cadets are under lockdown."
Well, that sounded absolutely fun. "Just—one day, okay? That's all I want. Your wards are still on me, right? I'll be fine."
"Hmm." Gabriel glanced down the street as if expecting soldiers to march up and whisk Vel away that very minute. "One day only. I'll come get you at noon tomorrow. I'll drag you back if I have to."
Vel breathed a sigh of relief. Nervousness grew in the pit of his stomach immediately as his agitated mind began to scheme. "I'll just stay here, I promise. Thank you."
He spent the night at his old home after what felt like a million lifetimes. He didn't sleep. He counted the seconds in his head and went over his half-formed plan again and again. He thought he dozed off sometimes, because the ceiling he was staring at grew brighter by jumpy intervals, until it was painted pale blue by the morning light. He turned his head to find Diva in the other narrow bed across the room, frowning as her eyes fluttered beneath their lids. Soundlessly, Vel located the dented tin safe from the back of the creaky door, the key to which he couldn't find anywhere. He shook it, feeling the delicate flutter of banknotes inside, like trapped moths.
Resigned, he sat on the foot of Diva's bed. She started awake as soon as Vel shook her shoulder gently.
He made a sad attempt at a smile. "Morning, sis. I… I need a favour."
"What is it?" she said groggily, sitting up with a groan. She pressed her palms to her eyes. "Oh, I feel terrible. But I'm kind of glad you woke me. Wasn't exactly having the best sleep of my life."
"Yeah, um. I need five hundred dollars." He held up the safe.
Diva stared at him. "What? What on earth for?"
"I need to buy something. It's very, very important."
"What kind of thing?"
"Dammit, it's none of your business!" Vel yelled, slamming his palm onto the thin mattress, and Diva jerked back with a gasp. Vel swore out loud at himself. "Fuck. I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm just— I'm so angry, and I'm so fucking tired. I—please. I need it. Please don't ask why. Where's the key?"
"Vel…"
"Diva, please, just give me the money."
"Vel, I…" She gazed at him with pitying eyes. "I just want you to be okay. I don't think whatever you're planning will—"
"It will. I'll be okay if I do this thing, I know I will, it's gonna help. Okay? Do you want to help me?"
"Of course," she said softly.
"Then give me the money."
She sighed and touched his cheek. "You're so different now, Vel."
"That's what people do, sis. They change," he said flatly.
Silently, she fished the old key out from a hidden pocket in her nightgown. She unlocked the safe and scooped up a pile of banknotes blindly, handing them over, mouth set disapprovingly. "Will this be enough?"
"Yes. Thanks. Really, Diva—thank you." Vel stuck the money in his pocket and gave Diva a
quick, tight hug. He yanked Damien's jade necklace off and dropped it onto her lap. Before he could lose the nerve to say it, he whispered into her ear, "The funeral's on Sunday. Get Gabriel to take you. I'll see you there."
He pulled away and walked out of the room briskly, not looking back. Outside, he broke into a
jog. He thought he heard Diva sob quietly from inside the house, and the guilt in his chest just made him run faster. Down the row of tin shacks that was his neighbourhood, away from the familiar sector of slums and into a confusing web of old apartment complexes. This was the only part of the black market he'd ever visited. The people here were wealthier but very seedy. Belatedly, he regretted not ditching his uniform earlier, but it was too late to go back now. He found the place he was looking for, a discreet little store with an old door painted black, lacking in any sort of sign or name. He pushed open the heavy wood and stepped into the musty shop.
The space was cluttered with shelves and boxes. Most of the items were miscellaneous, second-hand stuff any pawn shop would sell, but here and there were undecipherable books and jars of strange herbs and boxes carved with grisly images. Dark magic. There was a man behind the counter, sitting with his feet up and smoking a pungent cigar. He raised his eyebrows at Vel's arrival. "Well lookee 'ere. It's Serpent's li'l brother. All growed up an' everythin'."
Vel wasn't surprised the man recognised him; most people in the slums did, one way or another. His physical similarity to his brother was probably why he hadn't been knifed on his way here. "I need a Salt Hex," he said without preamble. "Strongest kind you have."
"Really now," the man drawled. "Salt Hex? Why not somethin' a li'l more extravagant, eh? Like a Finia Hex, set off some fireworks while yer exploding somebody, eh? I got some of those in stock."
"No. It has to be Salt. Physical harm doesn't work."
"An' why d'you need it?"
"So I can kill it," Vel hissed, the rage inside him bubbling up again, even stronger than before, tears stinging the corners of his eyes. "I need to kill it so it can't hurt anyone else."
The shopkeeper stared at him analytically, not the slightest bit sympathetic. "Y'know, kid, some soldiers came by earlier. They harassed my family with questions we ain't got no answers to. They ain't welcome here."
"I know. They'll go if I kill—"
"Will they? Will they really?" The man's already heavy-lidded eyes narrowed further into a glare.
"Yes," Vel said as earnestly as he could. "I promise. I just need that spell. Please. I've got the money."
"Huh." He turned away, and for a moment Vel was ready to jump across the counter and force it from him if necessary, but then the man tugged open the glass cabinet behind him to retrieve a dusty book. He opened the creaky thing and scanned through the grid of fine print on the yellowed pages. "If they come back, I ain't gonna be happy, kid. I got lotsa valuables in 'ere."
"They won't, if everything goes fine and—" Vel stopped, hearing his own words. He wouldn't be here if everything had gone fine in the first place. He'd still be up in HQ, training with Andrew and complaining about bruises. It felt like whatever he thought about all somehow went back to Andrew. He was sick of it. He took a large breath and balled his hands into fists, crossing his arms. The shopkeeper glanced at him, nonchalant.
"'Ere we go," he muttered, stomping into an adjourning room. Things clanged and clattered, and he came back with a small, ornately decorated black box. Skulls. How subtle. He handed it to Vel and accepted the thick wad of banknotes without a word. He counted them, quickly and professionally, and locked them in a cupboard. "Ya know how to use that thing?"
"Yes," Vel said, examining the container. It was heavier than he'd expected, like it was half-full
of water, though no sound came from it when he shook it carefully. He stowed it in his pocket out of sight and turned to leave. He glanced at a dusty grandfather clock in the corner; it was nin
e thirty. He had a few hours until Gabriel came looking for him.
"Ain't gonna help ya," the shopkeeper muttered, making Vel pause.
"What?"
"I said, that spell ain't gonna help. Your anger, I mean. Whoever you lost."
"And how the fuck would you know?" Vel snapped. The man shrugged nonchalantly.
"When's the funeral?"
Vel closed his eyes and exhaled. "Sunday."
"After you use it, then," the man muttered. "The only thing that's gonna help is if you cry yer fucking eyes out at the funeral. And buy her flowers every day." He looked Vel up and down. "Or him. You seem kinda like a homo to me."
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