CHAPTER SIXTY-SIX
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Alana Hurd
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29th of Decepter, 935 PC
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Oliver Honeywell was a tinkerer. His closest friend, Felix Corleone, was a merchant. A damn good one by Alana’s estimation. There were loads of people smarter than her, but she knew a good seller of bullshit when she saw one. She’d been practicing the craft herself for years, though recently she’d noticed she wasn’t as good at it as she’d thought. Either way, talking to Felix was more of a game than a conversation and she enjoyed that.
“You know,” Felix said, starting the conversation off with the same rub of his hands and playful grin as always. “There are ways we could use your lotus magic for our benefit.”
Alana let a gentle blast of the purple magic rip a piece of firewood into three not quite identical smaller pieces, shielding herself from the splinters in the process. She’d learned to control the amount of magic she let escape through her fingers. Turned out using less of the magic made aiming considerably easier. Something she thought should have been mentioned in her training. Then again, she remembered about as many things from her Lotus training as Felix and Oliver.
“You don’t say…” she said. “And how so?”
Oliver bent down and tossed the pieces toward the stack against the wall. It was as tall as a mountain today. It might even pass Elroy’s inspection that evening. “Don’t listen to him, Alana. He’s so full of bad ideas that they seep from his ears at night. You should see his pillow in the morning.”
“I’d rather not,” she said. Oliver hadn’t insinuated anything sexual but Alana’s mind went there anyway. Felix wasn’t an ugly fella with his brown hair that reminded her of waves in the ocean and his blocky frame that resembled Darrius, but lately everyone looked slimy and unattractive to her. Herself most of all. And he was too much of a thinker for her liking. She preferred to be in control in the bedroom. Put them in a bed together and they’d be ramming something, but not what they should be.
Felix wasn’t bothered by her playful rejection one iota – a perk of being a merchant. “Now, now, hear me out.” Oliver rolled his eyes as if he’d heard those words too many times to count. “Oliver and I have… hmm… how to put this delicately… enemies.” She stopped with her hand stretched out, ready to blast the next piece of wood. “Aye. You wouldn’t think it looking at ol’ Ollie there with his scrawny arms and spectacles but he’s been known to upset the wrong people from time to time.”
Oliver stood with his hands on his hips. “Do you hear yourself when you speak?”
“The only person I fully listen to, actually,” Felix said, making Alana chuckle.
“He’s the one with enemies. I keep him safe,” Oliver said, waiting for Alana to blast the wood so he could toss the pieces with the rest. “With my inventions.” His good nature soured. “That’s why we never have more than a few Leos in our pockets. Have to give away more items than we sell.”
This brought a loud laugh from Felix. “The point is, my lovely new friend, is that you could sever some ties that have been rubbing my wrists raw for far too long.”
“Do not bring her into your bad business deals. I can speak from experience, Alana. You do not want to be wrapped up in his failings.”
She let another well-controlled blast tear apart the wood on the stump. Oliver moved quickly to pick up the pieces. “I don’t know,” she said to Felix. “I had intended to lay low for a while. Meet some new people that might be able to help me with my own troubles. But maybe there’s a deal somewhere in this pile of shit you like to spew.”
The merchant spread his arms wide, eyes even wider. “You’ve found your men! Ollie and I could spare some time to help you with whatever it is that’s got you hung up in the mud.” He paused. “You know, for a few of those blasts of yours. And your congenial company.”
Alana’s confusion must have been on her face.
“It means pleasant,” Oliver said. “He likes to use words like that when bargaining.”
“Gets them off-balance, you see. They're yours once you get them off-balance.”
“You’re really asking her to kill people for you…” Oliver’s hands had found his hips again.
“Not kill them. Just want to send a message. Let ‘em know they should leave Corleone and Honeywell alone from now on.”
Oliver turned to her. “I doubt two fools like us can even help you, can we?” She thought about it. A merchant might know where to find a Purist healer and Oliver was good company in his own right. When he wasn’t acting like her mother. She could spend some more time with these fellas.
“Depends. Do you know any Purists?” Based on the dreadful looks on their faces, the question had insinuated something she’d forgotten would be anyone’s first assumption. “I don’t mean to kill them. I’m not trying to get you wrapped up in a war that none of us have an interest in fighting. I just need to find a healer.”
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Felix rubbed his chin. “A healer, you say. Finding a healer is a mighty tall task these days.”
“Nearly impossible, I’d say. Especially with your… own magic,” Oliver said.
“I could find you a healer.” All three of them turned toward the corner of the inn, quicker than scared cats. A woman stood there, leaning against the wall, arms crossed, chewing on a twig. Her damp white hair and wet boots suggested she’d walked through the snow for longer than a casual stroll. Her green jacket was so old and caked with filth that it was clear it had seen more in its time than Alana could ever imagine. “Little cunt might be tough to track down but I’ve got his scent. Good news is, where he is, your kind’s more than welcome.” Her eyes flickered toward Alana’s glowing hands.
The merchant was the first to speak for their side. “I’m Felix Corleone.”
“Don’t give a shit who ya are,” the woman said. “I’m talkin’ to her. You wanna find a healer or not?”
The woman’s presence was so heavy and imposing that all Alana could do was look around for the voice she’d apparently misplaced. The stranger pushed off the wall and came toward them. Felix moved toward her slightly, Oliver moved away from her noticeably. A dagger appeared from somewhere and pushed Felix back where he’d come from, making a path for the woman to approach Alana. The familiar scent of body odor filled the uncomfortably small space between them.
“You got any of those lotus capsules left?” the woman asked as she scratched her cheek with her dagger.
Alana swallowed. “A few.”
“Good. Gimme some and I’ll find you a healer. Three hells, I’ll slit his throat for ya if that’s what you’re wantin.”
Alana glanced at the others. Oliver didn’t move but Felix was nodding his head discreetly.
“Alright,” Alana whispered. Anything louder would have been too much for as close as they were standing.
“Good! Name’s Velvetine Ambrose.” She stuck out a palm expectantly.
“They’re inside,” Alana said.
Velvetine threw an arm around Alana’s shoulders. “Then let’s go get ‘em. You wouldn’t believe how bad I want some.”
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Velvetine let out a cackle that sent chills down Alana’s spine.
“This shit’s incredible!” Velvetine said, holding her hands in front of her face and beaming at them with intense eyes. She threw her hand toward the trees at the back of the lot but the blast went sideways and sailed off through the open field. She looked over her shoulder. “No wonder none of ya can aim worth a fucking damn. Hard!”
“Helps if you don’t use too much,” Alana said.
“What’s the fun in that?!” Another blast sizzled and crackled, heading toward the trees this time.
Oliver leaned in close. “I don’t think this was a good idea.” There was enough in his tone for her to know his words were directed toward Felix.
Velvetine turned around. “When do we leave? I wanna use this shit.”
“In a few days,” Felix said. “Oliver is needed here through the new year. Then we can head to Locke.”
Velvetine went back to throwing magic anywhere and everywhere. The poor tree next to her had black marks all over it. Branches lay at its base.
According to the crazed woman, a group of Purists were on their way to Locke. One of which was a healer named Torin White. A real sweetheart, Velvetine had called him, would do anything for anyone. Exactly what Alana needed.
“Let’s go inside,” Felix said to the new Lotus. “We can get some free drinks.” He slapped Oliver on the shoulder. “Ollie knows a guy. You play cards?”
Velvetine turned, closed one nostril with a finger, and blew snot into the snow. “Always heard it thumps in your fingertips.” She walked toward them. “My sister’s a Lotus, ya know.” An airy laugh started to form in her throat, stuck there for a bit, filling with ridicule before it rolled out of her mouth loudly. “Not long for this world though, she ain’t. That’s alright though. Got me a new sister now.” And for the fifth time since stumbling upon the inn, she threw an arm around Alana and squeezed her with frightening affection. “Come on boys. Wouldn’t mind playin’ some strip ruckus with you chaps.”
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Alana watched as Darrius pulled an arrow from his quiver. She watched his lips move, telling her he only needed one shot. She watched her hands coax him out of the trees, shaking her head at his ridiculous confidence. She considered stopping him. For a moment. She wanted to ask him to come with her but he was hellbent on getting his pin so she slid behind the trees as soon as he turned and prepared to run. It wouldn’t be her that faced the Purist’s wrath. He raised his bow. No chance in the three hells he’d hit the white haired bitch, but he wouldn’t give up until he did. Or died. She’d have plenty of time to sneak away – as soon as she knew the Purists had seen him, as soon as they were preoccupied with her sacrificial lamb. There was chaos on the other side of the trees though. She could hear it, feel it spreading all throughout the clearing. Adrenaline, no fear, pulled her from the roots, sent her sprinting away from the fight sooner than she’d intended. The branches clawed at her shoulders, her head, her hair. The roots grabbed at her feet, trying to trip her, drag her back into the three hells. The wind stung her eyes. There was no time to wipe them though. She had to move quickly. A scream. One of pain and agony. Then another. One to rob the world of joy. Everything erupted.
Alana woke up, heart pounding, back chilled by the sweat beneath her. The dark outlines of the room met her with a secretive gaze. Except a gentle glow coming from the floor in the corner of her eye. She turned her head slowly to see her new travel mate lying in the middle of Elroy's precious burgundy rug, her white hair a light tint of purple in the glow of her new magic. Portions of the jagged features in her bony face were masked by shadows but others were haunting the room unashamed.
Velvetine turned to her, still smiling that sinister smile of hers. She’d barely changed her expression since she’d taken the lotus capsule. “What’s wrong, sis? Bad dream?”
“No, not at all,” Alana said. “Just checking on you, that’s all.”
Velvetine rolled over onto her side, the blanket dragging along with her hips. “Ah. No need t’worry about me, sis. I’m more content than a quim full of cock now that I got this stuff inside me.”
“Oh, good,” Alana said, suddenly realizing just how much Velvetine resembled the woman Darrius had shot. Was this the same person? A Purist. Had she survived? No, that woman had a gentle aura about her, even with the intent to kill in her eyes. Then a mixture of embarrassment and dread filled her as she realized this thing on the floor was the kind of thing that could steal the world of all its joy with a blood-curdling scream. That’s just fucking perfect.