About three seconds into their trip outside Grimguard Manor, Bamo got cold feet.

That could be rephrased: he regained agency over his consciousness.

Influence Check (Failure)

Failure! Target has broken free of your influence!

“Shit,” Akemi mumbled, turning her head slowly to see Bamo’s eyes darken. His soft features turned stiff, his mouth curling into an annoyed—then terrified—frown.

“You… you two aren’t chimeras,” he said, teeth chattering. He looked once at Akemi, who smiled at him broadly, unbothered, and then Pyre, who looked away, annoyed.

Akemi took the reins from his hands, steering the horses through another set of gates. The subsequent gates were mostly automatic, and the ones that weren’t, Pyre assisted with.

“What gave it away?” Akemi laughed, peeling off her hood. She sighed with relief as it fell off her shoulders—it had been humid as hell inside that thing. She couldn’t dream of how the furry beasts endured it all day.

Bamo looked at her human skin in abject horror.

“Don’t give me that face,” she said, waving him off. “I’m actually considered very attractive amongst my species.”

“Oh, right,” Pyre groaned from the back.

Akemi pulled at the reins, directing the horses further towards the surrounding forest. The manor’s series of paths were like a hedge maze with multiple endings: some culminated close to the city, others strayed off towards the woodlands. Due to the confusing design—most likely built like so to disorient intruders—they had already put quite a distance between them and the guards, who had peeled towards Grimguard proper.

We just need to maintain that distance, she thought, clenching her jaw. Otherwise we’ll be cornered.

“Bamo, what’s the best way out of here? If we wanted to avoid the guards?”

“Why would I tell you that?” he said, arms crossed. “You’re the one kidnapping me.”

Akemi turned to him with an eyebrow raised, surprised by his sudden objection. He looked so terrified a moment ago. And—she looked down at his quivering lip—he still was. But it seemed the boy possessed a bit of a rebellious side. She could get behind that.

“Oh yeah? We,”—she waved a hand between her and Pyre—“are some big bad kidnappers? Please, you should be thanking me, kid. That place is like a prison facility. Worse, a cult built around smelling like mothballs. You all have to dress the same, look the same, wear that terrible—”

“Perfume,” he said annoyedly, finishing her sentence. Realizing what he had said, his eyes widened. “No, I mean, of course, I like the perfume. Every chimera man should wear it.”

Akemi laughed. “Oh, you hate it! Come on, admit it! It smells worse than the sewers.”

“So that’s where you two came from,” he realized, a light bulb lighting behind his eyes.

If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the violation.

“Great,” Pyre said, groaning from the guest cabin. “Just give everything away, A.”

Akemi leaned out of the driver’s seat to look through the cabin window, smiling.

“Did you just call me A?” she asked, delighted. “Are we on a nickname basis now, P?”

Pyre rolled her eyes, and buried her head in her lap.

The carriage bumbled and jounced over the rocky pavement, which quickly turned to gravel, then to dirt, as they entered the forest grounds. Broad foliage draped shadows over them, and the horses whinnied as the way darkened. It became less and less clear what was path and what was just ground. Their hooves, accustomed to city life, clumsily struck against the stone.

Akemi let her eyes drift discreetly towards Bamo, who was still stuck fast in his defiance. She didn’t like to stress out horses, but she did like a good gambit—and her bet (telling by the increased furrowing of his eyebrows) was that he didn’t like someone improperly leading his cart and his animals toward an imminent crash. So she did just that, intentionally rummaging over plants and rocks and bramble, until the wheels of the carriage were screaming.

“Stop,” he said quietly, then after they rolled over another puddle of sharp rocks, he yelled, “stop it! You’ll ruin the carriage. Give me those.”

She purposefully hid her glee as she handed over the reins, putting her hands up in mock-defeat. He huffed, and took control of the cart, steering them out of the darkness. Within minutes, the trees began to part, and Akemi could see a thin line of civilization in the distance: a small village, by the looks of it, a sort of suburb to Grimguard, with short, rickety little houses.

Akemi made them pull over just outside city limits, near a horse barn. She thought it’d look less suspicious that way. Bamo agreed, muttering to himself as they parked the horses.

“All of my cargo,” the boy said miserably as he checked the sorry state of his carriage. “There goes my pay for the week. And my dignity. And my job.” He whimpered, holding the residue of one of his vegetable shipments—a radish, hacked to shreds. “Ravenguard is never going to let me back into the estate after this.”

“Screw Ravenguard.”

Akemi ran her hand across the carriage, circling it until she was standing across from Bamo.

“You’re a villain, aren’t you? Join us,” she said with a shrug.

“What? Are you stupid?” Pyre whispered, jabbing Akemi in the side. “We aren’t recruiters.”

“Sorry, I meant join me,” Akemi corrected, rolling her eyes. “I need an in-house artificer and some kind of lackey to look after Mutt here,”—she let the pika out of her hood, and it jumped happily onto the ground, approaching Bamo with a sniff—“I’m sure I can pay you better than Raven-whatever. I’ve got plenty of gold incoming. And I mean plenty.”

That tax collector salary should hit my inventory by tomorrow, if the Book of Digits was telling the truth. So I can give him a taste of it then.

Bamo looked between her and the pika in utter disbelief. But his face did seem to soften at the sight of the animal, not flinching when it began to lean against his shoe.

“Absolutely not,” he said, after a second. He fiddled with the button of his hood, making sure it was still attached. “I’m a chimera. I don’t associate with—with humans. That’s not our thing.”

“Uh huh. Right. Because the chimeras are going to welcome you back home with open arms after you so flagrantly disobeyed your commanders. Come on, don’t be stupid. I’m doing you a service not killing you,” she said, matter-of-fact. “You would net me about as much experience as a spikerat, but I’m not opposed to it. Experience is experience.”

Seeing that she was serious, he paled.

“Taking on underlings that aren’t in the guild is against SAC rules,” Pyre muttered, avoiding eye contact as she studied the ground. “Not that you care.”

“You’re really getting to know me, P,” Akemi said, slapping her on the back. “I don’t. Care, that is.”

Bamo looked halfway to convincing, but he still wasn’t there. Akemi frowned. She really hated having to butter people up—it went against her very moral code—but it was true, she did need a good lackey. Every good villain had one, or ten, or a thousand. She had to start somewhere. Plus, she really wanted that warlock enchantment taken care of.

Mutt made a small “eep” sound, and waved his tail in the air charmingly. Bamo sighed, then squatted down to ruffle the not-dog’s fur. The pika easily obliged, quickly flopping over for a belly rub. It was weaponized cuteness. Akemi’s respect for the animal only grew.

“Alright, I’m listening,” Bamo muttered, looking up at her with a miserable expression. “How much money are we talking about?”