Serene

Mongrel’s strangely human-like chimpanzee familiars held the rabble at bay while they waited for Sam to emerge from the ramp that led down into the pit. Despite being dirty and bloody and red-eyed, she was in tremendously high spirits as she met up with them.

“Congrats, babe,” Serene said with a hesitant smile. “That was a really nice performance.”

“Thank youuu,” Sam hummed, doing a happy little dance-like shimmy as she approached the others in a way that was not entirely unlike a dog excitedly wagging its tail. “That Power Word thing he did was a bit scary, though. I’m lucky I didn’t kill him by accident.”

“If you did, it would certainly have been his own fault,” Nyx intoned dryly, still looking a little sour after the talking-to Sam had given her. Serene tried her best not to think about it. That was a bomb just waiting to go off in her face.

Any worries she might have had were roughly shaken from her mind as she was enfolded in a big, crushing embrace, Sam’s laughter loud in her ear.

Serene spent half her day with arms and legs wrapped around men and women of every description. It never made her feel anything. Taking another person unto herself was a purely mechanical action, like picking up a box and putting it back down again. For some reason, this was different.

For some reason, this stranger she’d known for all of a day made her feel safe in a way she only remembered from hazy memories of a childhood over a lifetime ago. For some reason, those warm, strong arms wrapped around her made her feel like crying.

She had not meant to return the embrace at all, but suddenly she found that she was the one clinging on as the other woman began prizing her free. She jerked back, folding her hands so tight about each other that she heard several knuckles pop.

God, what’s wrong with me? she thought to herself, removing herself a few steps from the group as she watched Sam receive praise in various shades between sarcastic and sincere from human, demon, and hooting apes. She reminded herself, as she had several times that night, that she didn’t know this woman, and none of this mattered to her one way or another, and that the only reason she’d come along on this mad escapade was the fact that she didn’t have anything better to do with her evening.

She was even less convinced by her own arguments than she had been the other times. Serene prided herself on her ability to read people, and there was a brightness surrounding the big dopey Laborer so strong it almost hurt to look at. She found herself inescapably drawn to that intoxicating energy, a moth bouncing against the glass of a lamp, desperately wanting to bask in the light within even if it burned her to ash.

For some reason, just standing near Sam seemed to shift her whole perception, made her feel like maybe life was more than just an endless cycle of fucking and sleeping and drunken self-loathing.

Serene wondered how a woman like this could possibly have ended up in a place like the Frontier. What was the catch? Where was the fatal flaw? Well, she was mad, sure, and utterly reckless, but even that had a strange sort of charming innocence to it.

“Probably should have run that name by us, kid,” Mongrel said to Sam once the congratulating had been dispensed with.

“Why?” she asked.

“Why? Because it’s a damn disaster!”

“I like it.”

“Peaceful Fist.”

“Yeah?”

“That’s what you’re going to call yourself? Seriously?”

“What’s wrong with it?”

“Well, for a start, it’s terribly corny.”

“I like corny.”

“All right, but that only leads to the next philosophical consideration—namely, how the fuck can a fist be peaceful? Isn’t that an oxymoron?”

The tale has been illicitly lifted; should you spot it on Amazon, report the violation.

“It’s ironic! Man, you wouldn’t get it.” Sam looked to Serene with a pleading gesture for support.

“It’s not good,” Serene said with an apologetic shrug. “I mean, it’s a bit funny, but more in a ‘laughing at you’ than ‘laughing with you’ sort of way.”

Sam huffed indignantly. “Everyone’s a critic.”

Mongrel chuckled and gave the back of her head a playful smack. “Not to worry, kid—just keep winning, and everyone will be happy.”

I should get out of here, Serene thought, uneasy. There’s no way this ends well for me. Attachments never ended well—it just meant leaving yourself open for someone else to hurt you. That was why Serene kept all her acquaintances shallow, ties easily severed. This violent, greedy tug she felt was beginning to terrify her. I need to get out of here.

Minutes later, she found herself tending to Sam’s wounds in the tent, not quite sure how she had talked herself into it.

The deep bite on the Laborer’s shoulder had come open, cracks in the glue seal filled with dark blood. Her eyes were raw and bloodshot, and she had mild burns on the upper portion of her face where Jax had Illuminated her. Serene wasn’t too familiar with that skill, but it shouldn’t have been that strong, should it? It hadn’t been Amplified either, meaning there was certainly something fishy going on. Then again, it hardly mattered now. She suspected that the Trader wouldn’t be eating solid food for a few months at least.

Serene cleared away the old glue and replaced it with a new patch-job. Unfortunately, there was not really anything in the medicine bag that could be used on the eyes, so she would simply have to deal with the slightly blurred vision.

“I think Ratcatcher’s fight is up soon,” Sam said, rubbing one eye violently with the heel of her hand.

“I guess so.”

“Want to watch it with me?”

Serene hesitated. Her guts twisted with guilt. “Yes. Yes, I do.”

“Are you all right?”

“I’m fine,” Serene said—too quickly, she realized. “Why would you ask me that?”

“You just look sad. Sadder than usual.”

“How would you know? I met you yesterday.”

Sam just shrugged, like that was no great thing. “You don’t want to talk about it, then?”

“No, I don’t want to talk about it.”

“Okay. Then let’s go.” Smiling brightly, Sam hopped to her feet and dragged Serene outside.

They visited Ratcatcher’s tent, but found that he had already left for the pit. They went to his corner, and managed to talk their way past the attendants standing outside the tunnel to get a word with the fighter before the match.

“Do you mind if I go in alone?” Serene asked. “There’s something I need to speak with him about.”

“Sure, I guess,” Sam said with a confused shrug. “Wish him good luck from me, will you?”

“I can do that.”

Serene hurried into the tunnel, unease growing stronger with every echoing step in the unlit darkness, until she saw the delicate-looking Artisan silhouetted against the thin bars of light that squeezed through the gaps in the closed doors leading out into the ring. A single lantern burned on the wall opposite the man, but the guttering light only barely touched his features, lining his face with a thin amber contour.

“I don’t need anything,” came the man’s voice, brittle with fear. “Actually, wait. Do you think there’s still time to visit the privy before I go out there?” Then, as she drew nearer, he let out a small yelp. “You? Ahem, sorry—you weren’t who I was expecting.”

“You should drop out,” Serene said quickly, convincing herself she was doing the right thing. Why did doing the right thing always feel so bad?

“What?” asked the man, cut from deep shadow. “You’re the one who said I should keep going.”

“I know. I was wrong before. You should quit the tournament.”

“You don’t think I’ve got a chance?”

“No. Well, I don’t know. It’s just not worth the risk. You’re still weak from that last fight, aren’t you?”

“Not too bad. The stuff you gave me worked like a charm.”

“Please—”

There were more footsteps approaching, and soon two attendants entered the little circle of lantern light. Ushering Serene and Ratcatcher aside, they set about opening the heavy doors, spilling bright white limelight and an overwhelming crush of shouting voices into the mouth of the tunnel.

“Don’t worry,” Ratcatcher said as he backed away toward the doors. Now starkly backlit, she could make out his wide smile—a brave effort, but she saw the strain in it. “Whatever the outcome, this is what I want. I appreciate you talking me into it.”

Serene took a step after the man, half reaching for him, but stopped herself short, let her arm drop. “You won’t reconsider?”

“Nope.”

“Then you better win.”

Ratcatcher made to walk out onto the sand, but flung a look back over his shoulder. Strangely, he looked more confident now—as though, now that the option of running away was gone, so was his fear. “Well, I’m not going out there to lose.”

“Sam Darling says good luck.”

“What about you?”

“Good luck.”

Ratcatcher flashed a thin-lipped grin. “Thanks.” Again, he made to leave. Again, he hesitated. “If I win,” he said, looking away as he struggled with the words, “will you… would you want to do something, sometime?”

“Yes. I’d like that.” In truth, Serene did not feel like doing much at present except spew up everything she had ever eaten. Instead, she caught him by the wrist, made him spin around, and planted a soft kiss on his lips. Like always, it was a purely mechanical act, no emotion or fondness behind it, but she reckoned he deserved something for his efforts, and it was the only thing she could give him.

His eyes went very wide. He started stammering something out, but she silenced him with a finger to his mouth. He smiled then, gave a small nod. She pushed him away by his chest, and he tottered off, eventually turning and stepping out into the pit. The doors closed behind him with a final-sounding thud, and Serene hugged herself as the attendants began ushering her back out of the tunnel. She very much hoped that she was not about to have a man’s death on her conscience.