Adeline

I slept for nearly two days while the melody played, and I dreamed I stood centre on the most magnificent stage. The audience clapped and cheered, and the song played and played. Each time I opened my eyes, I glimpsed the beautiful man in the burgundy suit, sitting at my bedside, strumming away on his…

…well, I couldn’t remember what it was called.

I tried to stay awake, but it was as if weights were attached to my eyelids. I tried willing myself to speak, but it was of no use. The words were lost and insignificant against the melody. I wasn’t certain what the musician wanted with me, only I was certain I was never in danger.

It had been a long week, and I recall thinking I could use the sleep.

At one time, I woke to his lips pressed against my forehead. Not in any perverse sort of way. I’d only felt love like that once. I remembered when she came to my room, and I was crying. She said all the right things, and squeezed me tight. She said she would take care of me, and she did.

Enforcer Rhian. I had to find her.

I remained awake only long enough to make sense of my surroundings, and I found myself in some sort of tiny house. There was a single room, a lamp by the bedside, and a crimson garment draped over the back of the chair where the man in the burgundy suit sat, still strumming.

I dozed off again.

It was dawn when I woke to warm tickles on my face and the sensation of someone staring. It took a moment for my ears to catch up with my brain. When they did, I realized the music had stopped, but the feeling of being stared at was still there, and so were the tickles on my face.

I opened my eyes to a pair of silvery eyes peering down at me, and so I screamed, and he screamed, and I screamed louder, and he screamed even more loudly. Well, I was officially awake, so I scrambled into a sitting position and pulled the blankets up to my chin.

We needed a moment to catch our breaths.

“Hiya,” he said. “Whatcha doing in my cabin?”

I wanted to say, “What are you doing in my cabin?” But the cabin wasn’t mine, and I had other, more important questions. Even though we’d never met, I knew the identity of the scrumptiously scruffy man at my bedside.

I patted my hair. It all seemed to be there. “Am I dead, too?”

“Uh—no?” Feargus Finlay replied.

“You don't sound certain,” I said. “Why don’t you sound certain?”

“I mean, I’m pretty sure I’m not dead. Just a bit confused as to why you thought we were.”

“Because everybody thinks you’re dead.”

Feargus Finlay sat down on the edge of the bed. Feargus Finlay. On the bed. With me!

I pulled the blankets closer.

“Why does everybody think I’m dead?” he asked.

“Because Enforcer Rhian received a missive from Palisade saying you’re dead.”

“Oh, boy.” Feargus Finlay ran his fingers through his curls. He had fantastic hair, and a great smile, and such piercing eyes, and big, luscious lips as if they’d been stung by a bee. He was still laughing. “I guess I should explain.”

“Yes!” I nodded. “You absolutely should. And where’s the man with the music?”

“Which man with what music?”

“The man in the burgundy suit with the, ah—I can’t remember what it’s called, but it sounds like, scree, scree, and it’s played like this.” I raised both arms in the air and mimed using a bow.

“Wow,” Feargus Finlay said. “Rhian said you were eccentric, but just… wow.”

It wasn't my turn to explain myself, so I raised my eyebrows and waited for him to explain himself.

“Right, so the majority of the Assembly thinks I’m dead," he said. "It wasn’t supposed to get around, so there must have been a mix-up. Rhian’s my Receiver. You know, the person who gets the notice when we die.”

“I know what a Receiver is,” I said.

Feargus Finlay held his hands up in defense, but he was still smiling. “About thirty seconds ago, you couldn’t remember what a violin was. I was just being thorough. Wait—you’re not going to tell your mum I’m alive, are you?”

“Of course not. I won’t be speaking with my mother ever again because she and the Assembly will think I’m dead. But why does the Assembly think you’re dead?”

“I can’t really talk about it.”

Who was I to pry? Agent Finlay was notorious in his field, and I was in the presence of a practical celebrity.

I was in the presence… of a practical… celebrity!

“I’m sorry if I’ve been at all rude, Agent Finlay. It’s been a strange couple of weeks, and I’m hungry.”

“Top drawer,” he said.

I opened the top drawer of the nightstand, and it was packed to the brim with a delectable array of cookies, hard candies, chewy candies, and, to my delight, a brown paper bag filled with one of my favourite snacks. Of course, the peanuts back at Palisade hadn't been quite so bitter, but those peanuts hadn't come from Feargus Finlay's personal stash, either. It was an acceptable trade-off as far as I was concerned, and I adapted to the new and interesting flavour after the first four or five.

Feargus Finlay reached for a cookie. “So, why does your mother think you’re dead?”

“Because Enforcer Rhian instructed Mister Bells to tell the Assembly we're all dead. By the way, do you know if she’s all right?”

“I think so. I mean, I haven’t seen her, but I’d know if something terrible happened to her.”

“That’s what she said about you, too. She never believed it—not for a second.”

Feargus Finlay nodded sagely. “It’s a shame I missed Bells, though. Good kid. But hey, if the Assembly thinks we’re all dead, we’re free. Well, technically, I’m still working.”

“Doing what?”

You might be reading a pirated copy. Look for the official release to support the author.

“I can’t really talk about it.”

“Of course, of course,” I said, and after a moment, I asked, “Are you sure you don’t know anything about the man with the music?”

Feargus Finlay hummed. “Did he have blonde hair?”

“Yes!” I said. “The colour of honey. Quite fetching, actually.”

“And you’re sure it was a burgundy suit and not a purple suit?”

“Yes, absolutely. It wasn’t purple, or plum, or maroon. It was burgundy.”

“I guess he could own more than one suit.”

“Who?” I asked.

“Zacharias Vonsinfonie.”

“Legendary composer and performance arts master said to have lived pre-Divide, and the one who created an Anima out of Lidia Ruza? The very same Zacharias Vonsinfonie who was recently released back into the world?”

“Yup.”

“By the goddess,” I said. “You’re sharing a tiny house with Zacharias Vonsinfonie?”

“I don't think so, but I’ve been away for a while. I just got back to find you sleeping in my bed. Hence the ‘Whatcha doing in my cabin’ thing.”

I blew a spiral strand of hair out of my eyes.

Feargus Finlay passed me his flask. “Here—it'll warm you up, and it'll help with the stale peanut breath.”

Earlier that year, my mother had given me and my brother permission to try a glass of sparkling wine with dinner. I didn't like it—not at all. In fact, I remain convinced no one truly does. But the bubbles were an inspired element, and as I took my second sip of Hocks Spirits, I wondered what it would take to introduce them into the spicy, Strachan brew.

Feargus Finlay chuckled. “Careful, now. Hocks are known to do strange things to non-Strachan folk. Bad time for them, great time for the rest of us.”

My insides were already beginning to settle, and I felt myself relax. I could still hardly believe I was sleeping in Feargus Finlay’s bed! It was a literal dream come true. But why was I sleeping in Feargus Finlay’s bed? Why had the beautiful man in the burgundy suit brought me here?

“Where are we?” I asked.

“Closer to Jaska than Oskari, if that means anything to you.”

“A little.”

Feargus Finlay reached for another cookie. “Say, what happened in Oskari, anyhow?”

I answered the question by telling him everything I knew about the Legacy Varis: that she was a murderer, that I suspected her of being one of the Anima, but that I hadn't told the others because things were already quite tense with the Commander, and that I'd hoped to find proof. The Strachan said he understood, and so I filled him in on our plan to collapse the tunnels, and I told him about the people who'd shown up in town most unexpectedly: Mister Bells, Mister Sinclair, and Vincent Delestade.

“Vinny, really? How is that son-of-a-gun?”

“Well, he’s quite charming, isn’t he? But other than that, I don’t know. I waited, and waited, and waited on the hill where we all planned to meet, but nobody showed. That’s when the man in the burgundy suit appeared, complimented my watch, told me to close my eyes, and, well… here I am.”

“Sounds like everything went swimmingly,” Feargus Finlay said.

“Yes, I suppose it did,” I said. “But now that I’m rested, I should get back to Oskari.”

“Whatcha gonna do in Oskari?”

“Make certain everyone’s safe, for starters. And then, I’m not so sure. If I’m dead, I can do anything I want, and I haven’t had the chance to decide what that is yet. I’m rather curious about Mister Vonsinfonie and why he brought me here.”

“That's a bit of a head-scratcher,” Feargus Finlay said. “It’s almost like he knew I’d need you.”

“Need me?” I asked. “Whatever for?”

Feargus Finlay scooted closer, leaning in with a teasing smile. It was chilly in the tiny house, and I hoped this meant he couldn’t tell I was blushing.

“How would you feel about a job?”

----------------------------------------

Before discussing the job, Feargus Finlay slipped outside into the cold so I could have a moment of privacy.

A week ago, I would have been uncontrollably excited. Another opportunity to work for a celebrated hero and to live my life beyond what my mother expected of me. An opportunity to see more of this strange, smelly territory. All true and wonderful. But that day, I was still groggy from my long nap, still confused by the unanswered questions, and even though Feargus Finlay insisted I shouldn’t worry about Enforcer Rhian, I was still concerned for our other friends. Father Strauss, Commander Reider—neither of them appeared on the hill, and I didn’t trust the Legacy Varis—not one bit.

I climbed out of bed, cleared the sleep from my eyes, and stretched high above my head.

My trunk, packed with our most practical possessions, stood in the corner. The chair, the bed, a nightstand, and a table with an empty drawer were the only other assets in the room.

There was no evidence of the man in the burgundy suit.

My clothes were wrinkled, and rather odorous, and I was in no condition to go out in public, so I changed into something more suitable for the day. After which, I examined the crimson cloth draped over the back of the chair. A set of Strachan Petitioner’s robes—how peculiar, I thought. They smelled like sugar and Hocks Spirits, and when I explored them further, I found a half-eaten cookie in one of the pockets. I set them back exactly as they were.

Leaning in across the table, I reached for my hat. The one with the ear-flaps Enforcer Rhian found so funny. I put it on, fluffed my tangled hair, and stepped into my favourite pair of high-heeled, fur-trimmed boots. My coat dangled from a hook by the door, so I put that on, too, and my gloves, and the spare fingerless set belonging to Enforcer Rhian.

After taking one last look around the tiny house, I stepped out into the wide, white outdoors.

The blaring sun reflected off the snow, burning my eyes and impairing my vision. The skies at Palisade tended to be overcast, and because I’d never left Palisade, I hadn’t grown as accustomed to full daylight the way some other Partisans had. Thankfully, I’d had the foresight to bring my sun-goggles with me. Having had ample time to work on them before coming to Amalia, they were no longer a prototype. I fished them from my jacket pocket, and the tinted lenses shielded my eyes from the harsh rays.

Feargus Finlay smiled when he saw me. His beautiful curls were hidden under a brown knit hat with an odd, fuzzy ball on top, and he sported a hip-length leather jacket with a fur trim around the collar. It was unbuttoned, appeared brand new, and it fit perfectly.

“Nice hat,” he said.

I returned the smile. “I like yours as well! Are you sure I won’t need anything else?”

“I don't think so, but if anything changes, let me know. I'll take good care of your things in the meantime.”

“What about clothes?” I asked.

“Don’t worry about clothes,” he said. “We can always get you new clothes."

“You’re going to buy me clothes?”

“Something like that."

We set across what seemed to be an endless field. There was nothing around us but trees in any direction as far as the eye could see. My boots, while exceptionally warm and quite pretty, were not especially practical for walking through fresh snow. I wobbled here and there, and Feargus Finlay linked his arm with mine.

“You’ll get used to it,” he said. “And if you don’t, we’ll get you some new boots.”

I'd had at least twelve pairs of boots back at Palisade, so the idea of having more than one again was appealing. "So," I said. "Tell me, tell me—what's the scoop?”

“Oh, right. The job.” Feargus Finlay tucked a section of hair into his hat. “What do you know about bartending?”

“I know nothing about bartending.”

“You’re a scientist, right?”

“Yes, but—“

“It’s basically the same thing," he said.

“Well, if you say so. Why are you asking?”

“Because you're going to get a job as a barkeep.”

“Wait—when you asked if I was interested in a job, you meant an actual job?”

“What did you think I meant?” Feargus Finlay asked.

“You know, a job job.”

“This one happens to be a job, and a job job. Just, while you're there, promise me you won't agree to any jobs.”

While I found the emphasis on the word 'jobs' an odd choice, I knew that Feargus Finlay, much like myself, was an eccentric. We were cut from the same sheet, two gears in a cog. If I was working for him now, it seemed the responsible thing not to create any conflicts of interest or spread myself too thin.

“I promise not to agree to any jobs while on the job job job.”

"So, you’re still interested?" he asked.

“Of course,” I said. “You are Feargus Finlay and I trust you. Where will I be tending bar?”

Feargus Finlay swept a mittened hand through the air, as if this and his imagination together would paint the perfect picture.

“At the brothel," he said.

And just like that, I no longer found the emphasis odd.