“Then it is settled.” Gregor did his best to speak with authority—how Melanie would have spoken. Instead, he almost tripped over the words, which didn’t fit his usual manner of speech. He almost faltered before managing to rally enough to add, “The day has been long. I propose we rest now and plan at a later time.”
Gregor contained his frown, though it was a near thing. He had learned many lessons during his time with Melanie, the first being a nugget of wisdom imparted while they were planning their first job together: ‘All plans are awful, but the worst plan is no plan at all.’ When they enlisted Newter a few months later and she designated Gregor as leader if she were incapacitated or dead, he had made sure she knew there were some plans worse than not planning at all.
Melanie was lost, and their crew needed a leader who acted decisively, yet he had just defaulted to suggestion without quite meaning to. If the others noticed the slip up, then they were kind enough to agree in spite of his ancillary demeanor. Emily was the first to leave, slinking off down the hall. Despite her statement to the contrary, he could see her unease regarding Juniper, and he knew Melanie would have pulled the girl aside to address her qualms. He should too, but…
Without quite meaning to, he found himself looking to Newter, who returned Gregor’s gaze with a nod before silently following Emily. With how easily Gregor noticed the minute, agitated movements of the boy’s tail and the discomfort they signified, he might as well have been screaming his feelings aloud. Gregor hadn’t forgotten how often Newter had pushed the boundaries Melanie set when the boy joined. Newter was affording deference for now, but would he eventually chafe under Gregor’s leadership and return to his old ways?
Gregor shook away his musings for the moment and turned to Mischief. The shorter man noticed he was being observed and straightened, looking almost eager. Gregor knew he needed to speak with the newcomer, but the words would not come. How could he discuss the man’s place in the group, when the recent changes meant Gregor himself didn’t have a firm grasp on the group’s dynamics? And then there was the monetary logistics. Melanie had always handled the profit sharing and arranging jobs to generate said profit. Gregor had overheard bits and pieces, enough that perhaps he could have scraped by in normal circumstances, but their current situation was far from ‘normal,’ and the future was uncertain at best. Would there even be a crew once they had rescued Juniper? If there was, would Melanie’s contacts still be willing to work with them? To complicate an already complex situation, the PRT would doubtlessly begin actively pursuing them rather than the low priority status they presently enjoyed.
The silence between them grew deeper the further into his worries Gregor sunk, and Mischief began to look uncertain.
“Mischief.”
Gregor’s eyes snapped to Heavensword, who was still seated at the table in the kitchen, her eyes boring holes in the cheap wood. “How many rats must be under your sway for you to appear before us as you are now?”
“Ten, Miss Sword.” He scratched at his nose as he regarded the Butcher’s sec—
Gregor’s thoughts stuttered as was reminded Juniper had inherited that mantle and further still that Heavensword, well-known as the Butcher’s bloodthirsty right hand, was one and the same with the obviously depressed and lost mother before him. That she was Juniper’s mother, if she were to be believed.
“Why were ya wantin’ to know?” Mischief asked, bringing Gregor back into the moment.
Heavensword rose to her feet, her movements belying the heavy weariness in her eyes. “I am unsure of our present status with regards to food, but I can say with certainty that acquiring more would only be beneficial. If you could search for such and keep the watch as well… that would be extremely helpful right now. Would you not agree, Gregor?”
She turned to him not with challenging eyes but deferential ones, and Gregor saw the wisdom in her suggestion. The right hand of the Butcher. To have held that title for more than a decade despite the chaotic nature of the Butcher line meant she was either well-versed in diplomacy or else too effective to disregard.
“Please see it done, Mischief,” Gregor affirmed.
Mischief sketched a salute with a cheerful, “Already on it!” before gleefully moving into the kitchen and rummaging around in the cupboards. Had he misunderstood the directions, or was he just hungry?
Gregor set the matter aside for the moment in favor of turning his attention to the last of his charges, the blond on the couch. “You must be exhausted, Elle. Come, I shall help you to your room.” He tactfully avoided mentioning that it was Juniper’s as well.
“Please hold a moment, Gregor,” Heavensword interjected. “One of the… nightmares was felled in there.”
He grimaced, his gaze flicking to the stains on the floor. He had insisted on entering first upon their return earlier in order to dispose of the two corpses in the living room with his acid. It was already unnerving enough to be around the casual reminders of the violence inflicted upon them and the city—to sleep next to one would be devastating for Elle’s mental health at best.
Support the creativity of authors by visiting the original site for this novel and more.
“Understood. I will handle it.”
“If I may.” Again, such deference. It was strange to hear it from someone he didn’t know and who had such a reputation preceding her. “I would like to examine this one in particular. Perhaps a different room…?”
Again, he could find no fault in her reasoning. Was this how it began whenever the cycle began anew? Present herself as the experienced adviser and slowly establish trust, biding her time until her target’s guard is down and her darkest whispers seem reasonable?
He carefully led Elle to his own room and bid her to rest. Cleaning up could wait until later. The sweet, gentle teen drifted off almost before he had finished speaking, and after tucking her in, he made his way to Elle and June’s room. There he found Heavensword standing quietly over the felled nightmare while facing the door, her hair having fallen forward to shield her face from view.
Gregor came to a stop as far away as he could without risking being rude. “If you are finished, I will dispose of it.”
“Thank you for affording me the opportunity to examine it,” was Heavensword’s quiet reply. “Please tell me: Did Meteor ever speak of… her Mom?”
Gregor frowned at the non-sequitur and critically eyed the deceased Endbringer minion on the floor. “I was under the impression you claimed to be her.”
“My wife, Alexia. Our plan was she would be Meteor’s mom, and I would be her mother.” A short, hollow laugh escaped her. “One would think I might tire of explaining such, yet I do not mind. Speaking of our family has ever been a balm to me when we were apart, and now, having found Meteor only to unknowingly bring calamity upon her… I fear I need it more than ever.”
“When we met, you said you were unaware your traveling companion was the Butcher,” Gregor neutrally stated, trying to fill in the blanks in his understanding of her. “Who was she then to you?”
“A lull in the storm and, I had hoped, the end of the inheritance’s chains.” Heavensword’s hair parted like a curtain as her gaze rose to meet his. Her eyes were as sharp as the blades he knew she could conjure with but a thought. “A girl too easily taken advantage of, whose power had rendered her unable to function unaided.”
Gregor’s unique biology meant he could handle blunt force well and was mildly resistant to cutting, but he had no doubt she would be capable of overcoming that. He chose his words carefully, wary of inviting her ire. “Some might say you were taking advantage of her.”
If Heavensword took offense, she didn’t let it show. “An understandable concern. And perhaps I was, after a fashion. My intent was to shield her, to help guide her through a hostile world. But the same is true of a mother and her child… a role I desired, was kept from, and had ultimately found myself in, if not in the manner I longed for. Beginning with the best intentions is unfortunately less an indication of where one will end up and more a first step in the right direction on a journey where it is still entirely possible to lose oneself.
“But I fear we’ve drifted off topic.” She gestured to the corpse on the floor, and Gregor set aside his musings about the vague insinuations Heavensword had presented. “Did Meteor speak to you of Alexia?”
“Perhaps. She spoke of her only in passing, and I do not recall Juniper using a given name.”
Heavensword nodded, clearly having expected that answer. “She made it clear to me the woman who raised her was someone detestable and actively harmful, and I could not fathom how my beloved Alexia, my wife who so loved our— our daughter, could ever have treated Meteor so abominably. It seems the answer, as it too often is, was right under our nose.”
Heavensword sank to one knee, grabbed the hair of the body on the floor, and hauled it up so the face was visible. “Her nightmare made reality, which I only saw from behind, and from which we promptly left in our efforts to locate you. The same hair, the same height, but this woman is not Alexia.”
Gregor stared. “What are you suggesting?”
“If you are asking my theories regarding the means and reason for Meteor being taken from both myself and my wife to be placed with this—” She released the hair, and the decaying head struck the floor with a wet squelch “—imposter, then they are one step removed from baseless speculation. Without more information, I cannot envision what motives compelled them.”
“There are more probable explanations. We know little about the Endbringer—this Nothung—but the three of us encountered summonings that were twisted. Could that not be the case here?”
“Possible,” she acknowledged while rising to her feet. “We will know once we rescue Meteor. She will have inherited her uncle’s memories along with those of the others. She herself can speak to whether she truly lived with Alexia.”
Gregor hesitated, considering his words then considering them again. The silence between them stretched on, which served to drive home the necessity of the request he was debating. Melanie had been deliberate and reasoned, yes, but she had also been swift and decisive.
Like Heavensword was.
It would not be the first time he had worked with someone he didn’t understand, but there was one question he would prefer answered. “Why do you call your daughter ‘Meteor’?”
“Because she told me to,” she immediately answered before pausing in thought. A moment later she hesitantly added, “I… hope she will feel differently when we free her, but I will respect her wishes. She has put up with enough people using a name she doesn’t want to be called, I should think.”
“You offered your expertise before,” Gregor replied at length.
“Provided your goal is to free my daughter,” she rejoined. “I will free her.”
“That is what we now work towards.”
She didn’t back down. “Your crew has abandoned a teammate before, if the rumors are to be believed. ‘Shade,’ I believe the name was. A girl who murdered someone in the public eye. You claim you wish to rescue Meteor, who has done much the same. A convenient change of heart that beggars belief. Are you perhaps thinking to retake your place in the PRT’s good graces by giving them me?”
He had spent the entire journey back to their safe house pondering that same question. Why Juniper but not Aisha? It was partially that their acts were not the same. Where Shade had sought out her victim and wished to flee the repercussions of her actions, Juniper had been sought out by her victim and gave herself up willingly. The former a crime of opportunity, the latter a crime of passion.
He could tell Heavensword as much. She might even accept the answer. But…
Gregor still remembered the defensive, wild young girl who had accepted him as her teammate and furiously defended him from her family. Who had wept when he returned her kindness and accepted her for who she was. Who had supported Elle and been supported in kind. Who had grown and persevered despite losing her voice—despite at times losing her very mind. Who now needed him more than ever before.
“Because family does not abandon one another.”