Kyrylo was tired. He had pried his eyes open this morning after his rough night of sleep. He had gotten into bed early, knowing it was going to be tough. He was swirling with nerves and anxiety over the day to come in the spirit realm, some flickers of excitement that would pass by and knock him awake again to stare at his ceiling and check the time.
But it wasn’t going to slow him down. Not for a second. He was early to the alley, constantly checking his phone for a message from Felix before his partner finally arrived. He was shocked by Felix’s appearance, ditching the usual grey attire and turtlenecks he wore for work in favour of a puffy silver jacket, open down the middle to expose a bold spray of graffiti-style logo for some brand Kyrylo was entirely unfamiliar with.
“What?” Felix had picked up on Kyrylo’s gawking at his appearance, shrugging it off. “We’re doing this in an alley, we’re off the books, let me enjoy myself a little.”
Kyrylo leaned past him, checking if anyone was following. Everybody passing by further away gave them no time, all shuffling past. “You didn’t bring Iryna?”
Felix grit his teeth and pushed past Kyrylo. “I told you, you can’t just make up an ally. I can’t just make her appear.”
“But you can talk to her?”
Felix paused and his shoulders slumped. He leaned his head back until he was staring straight up. “Why do you care so much about this? You’re running around with your girlfriend or whatever, I can have my own hobbies.”
“She’s not my girlfriend.” Kyrylo touched his cheek and felt the heat coming off. He tried to disguise it by rubbing his face but Felix hadn’t turned around to see him anyways. “It’s just a crush. She has a boyfriend anyways.”
“Oh?” Felix flipped around, eyes gleaming. “So you’re trying to steal her away? This became so much more interesting.”
“No. No, nothing like that, no. I would never. I didn’t know she had one until recently, she never told me.”
“So you’ll back off now?” Felix pointed out a glimmer and stepped through. Kyrylo followed him, cautiously checking for any spirits that could be waiting for them. Once again, it was empty. Now they just waited. “Like you won’t pursue her, obviously?” Felix raised an eyebrow, barely suppressing the twitching grin at the corner of his mouth.
“I wouldn’t…I mean if she broke up and…like if she was single I wouldn’t not not date her, it’s just…”
“Love’s not as complicated as you seem to think it is in your head.”
“What would you know?” Kyrylo folded his arms and pouted a bit to the side but Felix was looking off into the distance.
“I’m not saying I’m casanova, I’m just saying you’re putting way too much importance on all this. Seems like there’s a bunch of rules and codes and shit. Most of the time, you know, people just fuck.”
Kyrylo bit into his lip, choosing to punt on retaliating. He had been down this path with Felix many times while they trained, knowing he was being goaded and never getting any closer to convincing Felix out of anything. Somehow Kyrylo always ended up looking more and more foolish as Felix poked and prodded and never seemed to care about anything.
Except now he had slipped up. Kyrylo knew he cared about some things. He was keeping secrets, hiding motives. He was training in a job he supposedly didn’t care for, cynical and yet perfectly capable of speaking to an authority like a good soldier. There was something in here, somewhere. Today wasn’t the day to get it but one of these days, Kyrylo would crack it open.
The door to Oleg’s bar came into focus around them, a surprisingly clear night in the town they kept finding themselves in. The absence of fog was striking. Kyrylo wasn’t immediately damp and cold. He could see further down the streets, noting wooden signs hanging above doors, and even the odd spirit or two wandering further away. There was something much further in the distance, tall and dark, it shot up into the sky and towered over everything else.
Felix knocked on the door and pushed his way through, apparently uninterested in commenting on the revealed vista around them, and leaving Kyrylo stuck with his additional questions and thoughts. He was just amazed at the scope of this space and the lives being lived in it. So much he didn’t understand.
“Welcome back,” Oleg said as Kyrylo entered behind Felix. For once, the deer-man wasn’t washing any glasses, only leaning against the bar, one arm propped on the top of the counter to hold up his head as his eyes followed them to their table. Shychur was at the other table, his bulk taking up half the space in the bar. This time he had his mechanical arm back, similar to the first one Kyrylo had seen. He shuddered a bit at the memory of it, of the spirit Shychur had slaughtered as they approached, skull crushed in its grip. He remembered how close they had come to losing that fight, several times. But their desperation won out, it seemed.
Silvestia was nowhere to be seen. Kyrylo wanted to comment on it but it felt like he had limited questions to ask this crew and he didn’t want to waste them. Oleg would tell him that she had her own life, things to do. Or maybe that he didn’t track her every whereabout, she was just a customer. He could already hear Oleg’s voice in his head as he imagined it.
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“You’re surprisingly committed,” Shychur said, grinning at the pair. “I almost made that bet with Oleg. Good thing I didn’t, I don’t want to owe him more money.” Oleg smiled in response, a rare sight to Kyrylo who found it slightly disturbing that Oleg only seemed to find joy so far in taking people’s money. “Haven’t seen a human like this before. They run, they die. There was that one group who came looking for a fight. Nobody has come down for a guided tour to my knowledge.” Shychur glanced at Oleg like he expected him to validate the claim. The bartender only shrugged and continued to watch with faint amusement on his face.
“You respect the desperate, right?” Kyrylo nodded at Shychur’s arm, trying to remind him how the last encounter went. He needed to remind the rat that they could take him down again. Or at least he hoped they could. “Well, I’m pretty desperate. I need to be an Honour.”
“It’s the honourable thing for a loser to watch the winner go to their death, sure.” Shychur stretched his arms up, touching the ceiling and cracking his neck on either side. “Since you want to get moving so fast, let’s just go then. I don’t need to chat.”
“Fine.”
Shychur moved past them without hesitation, squeezing his bulk through the door frame. Felix immediately withdrew his sword, holding it in front of him as the spirit passed by. Shychur only scoffed in response and kept going into the streets.
“You’re always so panicked down here,” Kyrylo said, patting Felix on the back as he passed. “It’s all worries we’re going to die. We’re dead either way. This is apparently always part of the job. Get high enough in the RIF, they send you down here.”
“I’m allowed to be cautious,” Felix snapped, lowering his sword only a little. “They could turn at any time.”
“Don’t you think they would then?” Kyrylo pointed around them. “Doesn’t seem like we’re worth the time for a lot of them. That’s what Oleg keeps saying.”
“You think that up until they kill you,” Felix replied, finally dropping the weapon to his side but keeping it in his grip. Kyrylo was a little concerned that was going to draw even more attention to them and cause exactly the risk Felix was worried about but he wasn’t winning this fight. In reality, he was beyond terrified. The execution hanging above his head, the helplessness around Drakmir, the clash with Shychur, he had felt it all. He knew if he stopped to look back into it it would paralyze him. He would just move forward instead.
“I heard from Oleg that you fused,” Shychur said. He walked through the street with confidence, apparently assuming the pair would just follow him without further instruction or direction. “You said you wanted me to help with your fusion. I thought that was some sort of prank.”
“Well, you never heard out our request,” Felix countered. His eyes were constantly darting back and forth as they walked down the cobblestone road.
“Well, you were a prick about it,” Shychur replied. He checked back on them over his shoulder and grinned, massive front teeth cutting through his intimidating expression with their comical appearance. “Never seen a fusion. I thought you pinned me with some gadget like those swords of yours but I guess it was something else, wasn’t it?” He looked over at Kyrylo.
“I guess so.” Kyrylo shrugged off the stare. They were getting into a more populated area. Sprits were passing by, doors were open here, some creatures were chatting with each other, others watched them pass in silent amazement. But most just went about their business as if they didn’t exist at all.
“Who did you fuse with?”
“Excuse me?”
“Who,” Shychur repeated. “What’s their name?”
“Oh.” Kyrylo pondered on it for a moment. He felt a pulsing, buzzing at the back of his head, something that wasn’t coming from him, exactly, but somewhere else. Inside him but not his own, the spirit reminding him of its presence as they talked about it. “I don’t know. I…never thought to ask.”
“You should know whose power you’re borrowing.” Shychur laughed, breaking in the middle as a squeak escaped his lips. “You’ve disturbed a lot of shit here for someone who doesn’t know anything.”
“Tell me about it,” Felix cut in before elbowing Kyrylo in the side. “He’s just jumping into whatever water gets him out of the fusion, doesn’t care where the current takes him.”
“Trying to look cool in front of your new buddy?” Kyrylo countered. “Talking in metaphors now like you didn’t also want to see a Rat King.” Felix sneered but backed off.
“If you feed it enough,” Shychur continued, ignoring the squabbles between Kyrylo and Felix, “you might get somewhere with it. Maybe you should consider it a partner instead of a burden. Take your misfortune and find strength.” Shychur waved his robotic arm in front of them. “That’s how I ascended.”
Kyrylo caught a gleam in the metal of Shychur’s arm, a reflection off the green light from the lanterns. A hunched figure looked back at him, two burning eyes of white. Always inside him.
“I’ll keep it in mind,” Kyrylo said. “Where are we going anyways?”
“I told you, we’re raiding the Drummond Estate. It’s up in Lyrica where all the snobs live. If you want to get to House Alucard, it’s going to be a lot of eating the rich.” Shychur chuckled to himself, his tail swishing back and forth with his excitement.
“We just walk into a random house and start killing spirits?” Felix asked, his incredulity obvious. “How does that get us into a different house?”
Shychur stopped and whipped around to face them. His eyes were alight with the same fire Kyrylo had seen before in their fight. “We won’t walk into anywhere. I’m public enemy number one to the wealthy houses. They’ll attack on sight the moment we arrive. Ivan is a bastard that way but you don’t get that rich by playing nice. But we’ll need the harvest to get the kind of strength needed to get even close to Alucard.” Shychur nodded at Kyrylo, who felt his stomach tighten at the concept. He had been unknowingly consuming spirits this whole time, apparently, but it felt different to be bringing intentionality to it. Disturbing, almost.
“Besides,” Shychur continued, turning around again and resuming his walk, “they’ll have some sort of contact, maybe a location, a key if we’re lucky.”
“Wait,” Felix replied, holding up a finger pointlessly. Shychur couldn’t see the gesture with his back to them. “You don’t even know? A location? Location of what, of the Alucard house thing?”
“Yes.” Shychur was blunt, unphased by the accusation.
“I thought you were our guide?”
“I’m not Master of Sagos.” Shychur spread his arms out to either side. “I don’t own the Fog Plane. I don’t know where every single thing is in every part of the city. House Alucard is famously quite hidden. That’s how they operate. The Drummonds do business with them, I know that much. So we’ll do what we can.”
Kyrylo heard the two bickering but it faded into the background. Shychur’s arm gave him a reflection to stare at, an internal spirit looking back at him. Their eyes connected and the buzzing faded in the back of Kyrylo’s head.
“My name is Syla.”