“Julie, this is Olivia, she's my current House appointed minder. I like her a lot more than my last one. I mean that sincerely.”
“Hi.”
Harper's greeting not returned. Olivia squinting at her, instead.
“She doesn't talk much.” To me. “I'm still trying to break her out of her shell. Olivia, Julie is a Magus.” Yep, she's definitely aware of that. “Her, um, pets can be a little spooky.” Icky, creepy, shamble-ly. “But they're really useful.” Neither saying anything. “I know my endorsement doesn't matter, but-”
“Day three,” Olivia pointing a finger at Harper, “you're in food prep. Your number's ten oh twenty five.”
“Calling it food's a stretch.” Harper squinting back. “I think I recognize you, but you look very different in here.”
“Having hair does that.”
“You're also much less grey. You're eight, um, eight...”
“Eight three sixty three. A zero in food prep, you must've pissed someone off. Is that also how you ended up getting stuck with Macarthy?”
“Lucy's interesting, unlike you, I'm not spying. As far as I'm concerned making those bars is only temporary, it's the first step on my path to the labs.”
Clearing my throat. “It's nice that you two seem to know each other, but I'd appreciate it if you could please leave work at work.”
“I know you don't want to be reminded,” says Olivia, “especially with the way things are with you, now. Hey, ten oh twenty five, I think I really know why you hang around her. Afterwards, when you're talking to each other, did you ever manage to find out Macarthy's number?”
“Even if I did know something like that, I definitely wouldn't tell you.”
“You should try and find out.” The girl tripling down. “That information would be extremely-”
“Shut your fucking mouth, eight whatever-the-fuck I-don't-care. If that really is your number you've been here long enough to know how much of a faux pas you're committing by even bringing it up. I don't have to allow you to come with me today, I'm being polite and permitting you to come. Are you going to behave, or not?”
“Garland told me to come, so I have to come,” the girl grumbles. “It's not my choice.”
“There's always a choice.” This time the girl wisely choosing to bite her tongue. “Okay, let me tell you what we're going to be doing today. Bailee wants me to get some troll's blood, and the more the better. Apparently it's an important component for winterizing the seedlings they've been transplanting. We're going south into the hills, and then into the caves. Your only responsibilities are providing Foxfire, keeping your eyes open, and carrying stuff. Do you think you can handle all that?”
***
“Is this how you two usually spend your days out?” Olivia saying, in between sips of water.
Her attitude had considerably improved since we'd first set out from the gate. The specific turning point had been directly after we'd had our first encounter with a Cave Troll. Tall and wiry, with a sinewy arm capped with thin, leathery, elongated fingers all reaching out to grab. A crackling flash and brief flurry later it's arm lay chopped into a couple of pieces and the main body had a Disjunction rune drawn on its chest. The fight over moments later and a brown pebble falling to the ground. Even with the body gone the troll's severed forearm still flopping around and its hand attempting to grab blindly.
Turning back to inform her that her responsibility would be wringing out the blood of the still living, slowly regenerating limb and getting to witness the moment her realization occurred. The girl's cheek twitching. Whetting her lips.
“Alright, pack mule, that's your responsibility.”
Eyes going wide.
“Lucy, give her a break.” The girl looking blankly at Harper. “But, yeah, that's all you.”
A few fights later the girl's visible amazement had mostly faded as everything sort of sank in. Around lunchtime we'd cleared out a relatively safe area to take a break while sitting in the soft bioluminescent glow of Foxfire.
“Every time we go out it's been different,” says Harper. “Not that I mind. And the money's been great, it's a huge weight off. I was talking to James and he mentioned that Ossen was a good vacation spot this time of year. You ever been?”
“Who's James?” says the girl.
“He's the guy I'm seeing.”
“Oh. The guy you're seeing. Huh.” The girl glancing between me and Harper. “Um, I dunno, I've never been to Ossen.”
“Ossen's a good change of pace.” The two looking at me. “When I first went there a few years ago they were a bit standoffish because, you know, Outsider, but when I went last year they'd sort of come around. At least they didn't mind taking my money.”
“Outsider?” The question coming from Harper, but Olivia also looking like she has the same question.
“You don't know? That's what they call us when we're not around. They think we're visitors from another world. The ones in town have sort of gotten used to us, but other places we're definitely an oddity.”
“Visitors from another world? I guess we sort of would be, to them. Huh, they do actually think that. They always act so polite at the shops, but sometimes under that polite veneer, they're anything but.”
“What do they do?”
“Nothing overt, so I guess neither of you would notice, and it's definitely not all of them - and not all the time - but I've had encounters where their blood pressure spikes. I didn't really know what to think of it, but I guess that might be the reason.”
“That's just because you're a Blood Mage,” says Olivia.
“I considered that, but I don't think that's it.”
“I was joking,” Olivia says. “Shit. Here I am talking with a Blood Mage and Macarthy like it's entirely normal.”
***
“It's messy.”
“Do you really get to say that?” says Olivia.
“Look, I know my reputation, I know I've done some pretty bad things, but it's still messy. I'm switching back to Simple Weapons as soon as I can, and then maybe invest in Throwing Weapons while I'm at it. Anyway, Julie, it's been good seeing you, let me know when you're planning on leaving for your vacation. I was thinking, for today's cut, I'll take the jars of blood for Bailee and a third of stones.”
“Can I get one of those jars?”
“Yeah, she won't miss it. Here, take two. And here's your cut of the stones. And then, for you, here's your cut.”
Olivia expressions had been shifting over the course of the day. Initial hostility, to guarded neutrality, to open curiosity, and now reluctant acceptance.
“You're really giving me these? I just carried stuff, mostly.”
“I'll take 'em if you don't want 'em,” says Harper.
“No, I'll take them. I just didn't think that Lucy would give them up so easily.”
“It's not a big deal. I don't primarily do this for the money. I mean, yeah, the money's nice, but money has always been a bonus as far as I'm concerned. I'm much more interested in the experience and I enjoy going out into the field.”
“Where you at, anyway?”
“Nineteen, past halfway, with enough banked to hit Twenty.”
“Banked? You must go out every day.”
“I try to. My Thieves Guild name is Black Hand, but everything I'm famous for in town was only piece of why I earned that name.”
“Don't you mean that it was your name, as in past tense,” Olivia says.
Halting. A full stop in the middle of the street, maybe hundred paces from the inn where we'd just had dinner. The girl blanching, wishing she could take back what she'd just said.
“I didn't mean anything by-”
“Don't. I know you weren't trying to insult me. You only said what you thought - you said what a lot of people probably think – and you're not entirely wrong. It's true that I'm not a member of the guild anymore. The guild master himself told me that. I was initially devastated when I heard it, but then I realized it's probably the best thing that could've happened. I don't particularly want to spend any more of my time playing attack dog, finding people's weak points, and then leaning on them. Not for the sake of something like the guild, that's for sure.”
“So why are you trying to hold onto it?” says Harper.
Because it had been earned. Not even with these two hands, but still earned, nonetheless. And they tried their damnedest to take it away along with everything else. Even if there's nothing left of me, even if every piece ends up being cut and partitioned and bought and sold, these borrowed hands will keep holding on to that last scrap and in the end they'll regret doing what they did. For me, and for her, both. For that poor forgotten girl who never had any choice in lending me her hands, in the first place.
“I swore an oath.”
My simple explanation making Harper's lips twist. Opening her mouth, clearly ready to argue, probably on principle, but a man's voice in the direction she'd been looking, interrupting her.
“Mac, do you usually come in this late on two? I've been getting sick of waiting for you.”
The panty thief making his appearance.
“Omen, you've got a lot of fucking nerve.”
“You know, I'm not actually a member of the guild anymore, either. Maybe you shouldn't be calling me by that name. Sorry, couldn't help but overhear.” He's not sorry at all. “Aren't you going to introduce me to your friends?”
Love this novel? Read it on Royal Road to ensure the author gets credit.
Breathing out my annoyance. “This Thief is a no good scoundrel named Justin. His first year here, when he wasn't chasing random tail, he spent his time pining after some Augur from his class who didn't like him very much - and who always managed to stay one step ahead of him. He begged me for help – but he only came to me after everyone else had refused. Calling him Omen was sort of a joke, but he did manage to get the girl in the end. Whatever happened to her, anyway?”
“Unattainable, long term, much more dedicated to her work, than to me. Fortunately, I've recently been blessed with the presence of the ever helpful, if occasionally bittersweet, Lucy.”
Olivia's eyes flickering back and forth between us. Undoubtedly appalled by his unmitigated jackassery and the fact that he doesn't seem to recognize her. Probably the scarf she's wearing.
“Cut the crap.”
“I told you a couple days ago I was taking you out tonight. You don't have a choice.”
“I hardly think that-”
His hand cupping my face. “That's one of your problems, sometimes you don't know when to turn off. C'mon, I think you need it.”
Trying to quell the conflicting emotions, but my exasperation beaten away by his debonair charm. A simple panty thief is the very least of his talents. Maybe he'll be up for something a little more demanding. “I need to take a shower, first.”
“You can do it at my place.”
“I don't have any clothes for going out.”
“I have an outfit all picked out.”
***
“Welcome to Sam's.”
“We're here for the event.” Omen flashing a pair of tickets, ringside seats for tonight's exhibition matches.
“You've got a couple hours until that starts, so feel free to...” The guy comparing the numbers on the tickets to a nearby sheet. “Oh, I see you've booked one of the VIP rooms this evening. I'll let them know you've arrived. I assume you know the drill, if you have any less than savory personal possessions I'm going to have to ask you to leave them here. Your coats?”
Omen removing his jacket and handing it over. Removing my cloak to reveal my clingy, hip hugging, and very short dress. No panty lines. The strappy shoes changing my natural posture, accentuating my legs and gamely striving as best as possible to push out my modest bust. Still decidedly short, even in four inch heels. The guy taking my cloak and hanging it on a rack next to Omen's. Turning back, claim ticket in hand - giving me another discrete once over - but then his expression shifting. Studying my face. Turning his attention to the drawing of me posted on the wall.
“Before I can let you in Mr. Phelps has a message for you. Please understand that this is a safe area. It's an area where people can enjoy our accommodations, or a pleasant meal, free from worry. This is a neutral area, an area where people can conduct business without unnecessary posturing or the very real fear of negotiations breaking down and leading to immediate violence. If you have an issue with another guest it is not your place to take matters into your own hands on these premises. Please bring it our staff's attention and we will deal with it.”
“I understand. Tell Sam I appreciate his hospitality.”
“Enjoy your evening.”
Entering into the establishment proper, Omen's palm resting possessively on the small of my back. The smell of smoke - tobacco and the sweeter one - food and the faint odor of sweat, swirling. The entire establishment busy and bustling with gamblers and gawkers, alike.
“You rented a VIP room?”
“I figured you'd get back earlier. I was planning on grabbing dinner and then hitting the tables before we, uh...”
“You still haven't eaten? No wonder you hustled us over.”
“We may never have gotten over here if I didn't. That outfit is too tempting.”
“We do have the VIP room.” Groping him back. “Get them to send some food. I want to talk with you about something.”
The guy glancing around. “Yeah, okay, we have time. I need to talk to you about something, too.”
Taking a seat on the overstuffed couch inside our VIP room and massaging my recently freed feet. Omen busying himself with pouring drinks and putting a glass of dark liquid in front of me. Taking a sip and savoring the fruity flavor of the chilled liqueur. Taking several more sips while Omen fusses with something off to the side.
“I need to ask you for a favor. More than a favor. It's work.”
“Work? I thought we agreed you needed to take a break tonight. Have some of this, and if you still feel like getting into it, I'll listen.” Setting down a pipe filled with tobacco, topped with a ball of sweet resin.
“You're not taking this seriously.”
“I am. I'll listen to every word you have to say, but there's no rush. Let's relax for a few minutes and then we'll see where that takes us.”
The man's an idiot - an idiot! - only an idiot would be attracted to such an inconsiderate, no good, incorrigible idiot. Setting down my drink and picking up the pipe. Striking his offered match. Breathing in the mixture of earthy tobacco and sweet resin, and breathing out my cares and concerns. Taking a few puffs before passing it over. The man taking a shallow hit, then passing it back. Repeating the process as he ravenously devours dinner. Licking around the rim of the glass to get the final remnants and then closing my eyes. Snuggling against him and burying my face into his side. Five minutes like this to recuperate from the day will be perfect. Maybe ten. Simply existing like this.
“What'd you want to talk to me about?” His voice a rumble in his chest.
“Right now?” Leaving my peaceful cocoon all snuggled against him. “I figured you were in a hurry to fuck.”
“We'll get to that.”
Stretching my arms, feet, and then cracking a few fingers. “Well, I got a problem, a problem that needs some fixing.”
“Fixing.” A distinct note of dryness.
“It's a noble sized problem that needs to be fixed pretty soon. It's a special request from a client.”
“Who's the client?”
“Some bigwig.” Letting out a giggle. “Normally I wouldn't have taken it on, but it fits with this other project I'm working on. For this other bigwig.”
“Do any of these people have names?”
“Sure, but every single one involved is one of them. I'm not bringing up any names until you agree - you absolutely swear – that you'll do it. If you don't feel like doing it, I'll drop the subject and do it myself.
“You'll do it yourself? I see. That's why you're trying to get me to do it, huh?”
“You sneaking in will get it done much quicker and easier.”
Omen taking a deep gulp from his glass. “Did you actually take on job like that? What am I saying - of course you did - even though you're supposed to be on house arrest.”
“It just kind of fell into my lap. It's definitely strange, though, I think there's something funny going on with the target.”
“Funny, how?”
“More scandalous than funny – I hope so, at least – but that's only a hunch. If that hunch isn't correct you can still take care of him and make it look like natural causes. Either scenario will work for my other project.”
“What's your other project?”
“You still haven't said if you'd do it.”
“No, I didn't. The whole thing sounds like bad news.”
“What if I ask you to do it nicely?” Biting my lip and massaging him through his pants. “Would you consider doing it then?”
“You really are a brat.” Getting a glint in his eye. “And projects, plural. You really don't seem to understand the position you're in. Come here, I'm going to put you over my knee and paddle your ass. Maybe then you'll understand how things are.”
Starting to giggle as he grabs me, and only putting up a token resistance while getting manhandled. Squirming around on his lap and being rewarded with something pressing into my belly and the man pulling up my short skirt to reveal my bare bottom. Letting out a squeal at the first open palmed hit. Squirming some more. Two, three, four, five, the smacks coming in quick succession, sending jolts of pain and excitement.
“You listen here.” Two more smacks, right, left. “I don't know everything you've been getting yourself up to, but I've heard plenty of rumors. Garland is furious.”
“She's always- ah!”
Smack, smack. “You're no longer allowed to do whatever it is you've been doing - not without my explicit say so. Say it. Say you won't.” His hand cupping my mound, squeezing and vigorously rubbing. Bringing me closer and closer, but stopping decidedly short.
Catching my breath. “Say I won't, what?”
Two more open palmed smacks. “You are definitely not permitted to take any jobs – especially when you immediately turn around and try to farm them out to me because you can't do 'em.”
“That's not- oh, fuck”
Another series of hits delivered. This round much harder than the others, producing significantly more pain than pleasure. “You are going to be obedient and well behaved for the foreseeable future. Promise me you'll do that and I'll permit you to...” Taking another break from raining blows on my sore, aching ass to rub my leaking pussy. His cock straining through his pants.
“I, I'll - oh shit – I dunno about later, but I'll be good tonight, if you want.”
His hand pulling back once again, but after a moments hesitation giving a satisfied nod. “I suppose that's good enough, for now.” One last spank and then his fingers finally allowing me to crest over the edge. Coming down from my high and starting to fumble with the front of his pants. “Now I'll try to convince you. Maybe if you return the favor, afterwards, you'll finally convince me.”
“What a slut. You weren't kidding.” A man's voice behind me causing my hands to freeze and a leaden ball settling in the pit of my stomach.
Four of them. Omen's friends. Chameleon, Blackjack, Tox, and then my second mentee, Snatch. They'd snuck in while Omen had been spanking me. No, wait, that's not right. Omen had looked off to the side halfway through the spanking and allowed them to watch while he'd kept me otherwise occupied. They witnessed basically the entire thing, both getting spanked and then getting off.
“What is this?”
“We heard you needed help,” says Chameleon. “Hey, where you going? We're all ready to party with you tonight.”
“Mac, don't worry. Take a seat and have another drink. We'll talk about it.”
Feeling the wall against my back. “What the fuck is this, Omen?”
The man's open expression closing off. Shaking his head. “Do you really not get it, you dizzy cunt? I wasn't joking about Garland being upset, and she's definitely not the only one. The idea of you running a House is laughable - you couldn't run a lemonade stand - but don't worry, I went out of my way to get you some help. We got to talking and here's what's going to happen: if you want our help - if you want to succeed - you're going to be at our beck and call from now on. In public you can run your mouth all you want, in private you're going to be docile and dutiful. That's the deal. You get to play House, and we'll keep you from suffering the consequences of your actions, past and present.”
He'd actually been serious. All that talk wasn't foreplay. Trying to stay calm but blood starting to thrum in my ears. Taking a moment to swallow down my bile. It may not be a bad deal. Set aside my pride and get it done, and then adjust some attitudes afterwards. That may be the smart course of action - it definitely won't be all bad - it'll definitely feel good. Maybe doing it the smart way will end up better, in the end. Trying to convince myself of that, but my mouth staying clamped shut.
“Mac, I know you've been doing nothing but bluffing. I know you went out into the field with the House last cycle, but aside from standing around you didn't do much of anything. And the harbor, yeah, you may have been there when it went up, but you weren't the one responsible: that was all the guild. You know what I think happened - assuming you actually are Mac - I think you you came in like this, got some drinks in you and then fifteen minutes later you were already on your knees.”
“What-? I did that because I like you. Do you honestly think so little of me?”
“Sly has a theory. I don't if he's right, but you definitely aren't the old Mac - which is great, because the old Mac was such an asshole. Ego the size of the moon and never missed an opportunity to show off. But you? You're even a support class, to boot, not even a real one. Tell you what, I've got a bet. I'll listen to you, every now and then, if you can lay a single finger on me. I won't treat you entirely like some kinda dumb fuckpet. But when you can't, when you admit defeat, I'm gonna give you a new name - Snowball - and a cute little outfit you'll be very accustomed to wearing everywhere. Because you aren't the old Mac - and no one should think otherwise. You're only good for sucking dick and getting passed around like a party favor.”
The person who'd been my first mentee finishing up his declaration with a supremely confident sneer. Still handsome, even with his ugliness revealed. Everything has changed - that assessment had been correct - and our relationship will never be going back to normal - but I guess this sort of built up resentment shouldn't be unexpected. This is what friendship means. This is the value of gratitude. The panty thief opening his mouth once again to add to his spew. Empty air from an empty void.
“If looks could kill. Ha! Alright, sweety, if you're gonna surrender without trying then I'll be merciful. That name'll just be between us. Get on your knees and crawl over-"
Handsome? It's almost funny thinking he looked like that. Right now he doesn't look like anything at all. Erase.
The pitch black pinpoint appearing on his chest and spreading out in an instant, engulfing half his torso and most of an arm. The ensuing blast of frozen air filling the room with mist. His shock lasting a moment, and then his insides spilling onto the ground. There's the ghost.
The other Thieves, spooked and visibly skittish, keeping their eyes on me and slowly backing out of the room. Snatch, the last one out, peeking his head back in.
“Good to see you're doing okay, Mac.”
“Get out of my sight.”