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JULES
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Thank Salvos. Jules dropped the prongs from waist height, and the cart crashed down at an angle. Rukia shouted a string of muffled curses.
“Hey,” Katarina shouted, “easy with the merchandise. Took me months to buy this thing.”
“Sorry, sorry.” Jules looked back at the barrel. “Sorry, Rukia. So where’s this inn?”
Whiskers purred.
“Yeah… About that. It’s the complete opposite way. See, I’m late for my job—”
“Are you kidding me!?” Cyrus shouted.
“Oh—Am I being an inconvenience to you? Imagine finding two deadbeat kids who turned my life upside down minutes before I was supposed to be at work—And still offering them a place to stay. You’re going to help me make up for lost time.”
“You said we’d go to the inn,” Jules said. “I’m not in the mood for games.”
Katarina fluttered her eyes at him. That seems somehow very unnatural to you.
“And we will. Eventually. But for now, I need your muscle. Rukia will be safe here. With two strong men, such as yourselves, it should only take fifteen minutes."
"Fifteen minutes," Cyrus said. "No wonder it took you months to buy that piece of crap."
"Eh, thirty minutes tops. Or forty-five."
This is probably a test. “Fine, let’s do it.”
“Just know, I’m gonna have to make this look realistic. No one will pay any mind to a couple of new deckhands.”
A few hours later, Jules and Cyrus wished Katarina had actually sent them to prison instead. They hauled crate after crate from newly docked ships and rolled countless barrels up the sloped docks from massive galleys—which always seemed to be on the farthest end of the ships. Katarina barked all sorts of orders at them the entire time.
“Use your back!"
"Hurry up and hustle!"
"Don’t put that on its side!"
"Get off your back—Where the hell did you learn how to work, a brothel!?"
Jules was nervous about her drawing too much attention to them, but nobody paid them any mind at all. When they’d finally unloaded the last crate, the two collapsed.
“Enough lollygagging! You two were the worst deckhands I have ever seen in my entire short existence, and I pray to Sweet Salvos Herself that I never see someone worse. You’re both fired!” She stormed off to the marina counter and collected her day’s wage from the attendant.
"You know, I always thought Salvos was a dude."
“Are you sure she isn’t Wrath?” Cyrus asked.
“She was testing us, seeing if we’d run, seeing if she could trust us, seeing what we’re worth. Hope we passed, but here she comes.”
“Quit screwing around and get the cart.”
Jules checked on Rukia, who played dead inside her barrel. "Good girl. Want a treat?"
“Not gonna—I'm not gonna make it. Heat stroke this time…” Jules laughed. He’d gathered from Cyrus’ retelling of yesterday's events that Rukia could Regenerate too.
“Listen, Ruke, I’ve had to take one for the team plenty of times. I know it sucks, but just keep it up. You’re being a Good Girl.” Rukia’s tail wagged at that last bit, though the rest of her still pretended to be dead. Can’t hide your excitement well. Jules slammed the lid shut.
“Hey, Kat.” Cyrus stretched out an open palm. “What about our share?”
“This coin was mine before you washed up on that beach.” She flashed a glare of contempt.
“OK, OK.” Cyrus took a few steps back. Jules laughed. Wow. Out-negotiating the Great Cyrus with a single look.
Katarina chewed on it for a second and then changed her mind. “Ah, fine. Here’s a coin each.” She flipped them each a small silver coin. Cyrus studied it, then bit it.
“Not even Forged…” he complained.
They set out in the complete opposite direction through the massive city of Aquilantis. They went past canal after canal, lined with boats and floating markets down below. They went past a massive field, the only level spot on the entire island that used to house the zephyr fields, but looked more like a graveyard now. A massive dome caught Cyrus' eye, and he asked what it was. Katarina looked him up and down and said he'd be better off never knowing. Finally, they walked past the famed moving bridges of Aquilantis, though to Jules' dismay, they never crossed one. From any point on any of the islands, they could see at least three of the many towering spires that lit up the city, day and night.
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“Alright boys, stick close. The inn is just ahead now.” The boys sighed with relief.
Jules looked up and saw a three-story building ahead, up on one of the many rolling hills inside the city. Oddly enough, this one sat alone, with a patch of grass and wildflowers around it on all sides.
Empty lots in a city?
Near the top of the hill, Katarina veered off to the other side of the road. Wrapped in blankets, despite the high heat of the day, a man sat slightly upright, fast asleep. Only his legs stuck out from under the blankets. Katarina flipped a small silver coin into his offering cup and motioned for them to do the same.
Cyrus’ cheeks flushed red, and Jules was likewise annoyed. Even our payment was another setup. The two boys copied her and tossed their coins in as well. The beggar stirred from his rest and addressed them, though he still sounded half asleep.
“Agh, wuzzit?” He pulled the blankets down from his face and looked around. Jules noticed he was blind. Unless he’s just wearing that blindfold for—what did Kat call it —shits and giggles? Despite the ragged and dirty blindfold, the beggar directed his gaze to Jules.
“Ah yes. Good morning to you, devilish one.” Jules felt the lump in his throat again. Devilish one—another trap? “Wait, where are you?” The man grasped and sniffed the air around Jules, but consistently missed him. He looked around aimlessly, left, right, high, low.
“Right here, Cane.” Katarina gently kicked the man’s folded knee. The beggar bellowed a gruff and harsh laugh. "Where were you yesterday?"
“Wouldn’t say that, lassie. That is certainly not my name.” His gaze shifted to Cyrus. “And I was out on a hot date. Finally made some friends, didja?"
“I wouldn’t say that, either,” she replied.
“Oh ho! Spicy today.” He fumbled around for his offering cup. Once he found it, he shook it around next to an ear. The coins clinked and jingled. “Mm, three coins. Gets you one fortune, innit? Which one of you cheap bastards wants it?”
Cyrus rolled his eyes and left the scene.
“Surprise us,” Katarina said.
The blind beggar put on quite the charade for them. Waving his hands around like some type of voodoo magic shit.
“Mm, yes. I see,” the blind beggar said. Jules had to crack a smile at that one. And I don't even have to conceal it. For the first time, the man took a serious tone. “All I can tell you, boy, is to watch out for paint! Heh, heh, heh—cough, cough…” The old man laughed and cackled through fits of coughs, and he pulled the covers back over himself. Katarina walked away to the inn without a word. As if that were a completely normal interaction…
Jules dragged the cart again, up the street with Cyrus, and parked it in front of the inn's doors. Katarina scanned their surroundings. It's just a bunch of empty lots, but I guess it's good to be paranoid right now.
“It’s OK to get your pet fox out now. Leave the rest of your crap behind.”
Jules pried open the barrel cover. Frail, exhausted, inches from mere death—Rukia slowly clawed out of the barrel. Her puppy dog eyes squinted in the harsh sunlight. “Sweet, sweet freedom,” she gasped.
Jules scratched her between tucked back ears. “You did well, Little One.” The little fox whimpered and nodded slightly. She climbed up onto Jules’ shoulder. The party of five climbed up the stairs to the front door. Katarina motioned for Jules to go through first. He walked in and—
A man fell off a ladder behind the door, and a bucket of paint followed him in slow motion.
Rukia's eyes widened at the threat. Time slowed down. Huge globs of paint grew wider in midair as they fell.
Not on my fur—She dug all four claws into Jules' shoulder, twisted and contorted her body, and launched herself off of him. The fox spun and flipped through the air, narrowly dodging paint from every direction. When she'd made it to safety, she looked back. Oh no. Did I do that?
Jules was bent in half from Rukia's use of him as a launchpad. The stranger fell just inches above Jules, and the paint—Oh, the paint—would overwhelm Jules before Rukia could rescue him—
WHACK! SPLASH!
All three—Jules, man, and paint—collided with each other and the floor.
Cyrus and Katarina erupted into laughter. Whiskers purred and slunk around the paint splatters and jumped onto a counter, where he lapped up a saucer of milk.
Oww…
Jules pushed the colossal man off of him. The stranger cursed Jules.
Rukia—Did I just hear your thoughts?
“Hey, Pop,” Katarina said. "I'm home early. Surprise."
Facedown in paint, Jules rolled over, onto his back. Rukia's psychotic face hovered inches above his own. Her eyes were wider than Whisker's milk saucer, her irises were deep crimson and her pupils were razor-thin and sharp at the ends, and her ears pulled back all the way.
OK, this is freaky. If you can hear my thoughts, please stop.
“Thank you for taking one for the team, Jules.” She spoke in a slow and mocking whisper. "I know it sucks, but just keep it up. You're being a Good Boy." Rukia scampered away.
Katarina offered a hand to help Jules up. “The old man, he tried to warned ya.”
“Paint. Right.” Jules dipped his hand in paint, then clasped hers. A visible spark shocked them when they touched. They both winced and blushed. She yanked him to his feet. She wiped off the wet paint on her hand on his shirt.
Jules apologized to the old man, then helped him up. Coulda sworn you tried to pull me back down you—Wow. You're huge.
At least six-and-a-half feet tall, and stout, the gruff man rubbed some wet paint onto his smock and towered over Jules. He bent down until his face was closer than Rukia's had just been. “Welcome home, Dear." Uh, you talking to me? "But who’s this riffraff?”
Jules trembled. Why am I so nervous?
“Anyone here?” Katarina asked.
Pop grunted. Guess he understands. “Few guests. Scattered 'round.”
Why have you not blinked this entire time?
“Well, in that case…" Please blink. "They’re my boyfriends.”
Ah, there it is. Looks like I win the staring contest.
“Boy-friends?” Pop's booming voice shook and rumbled the inn. “Kat, you can’t just—”
“Come on, boys.” Katarina walked away to another room. She snapped her fingers at them over her shoulder, without looking back.
Jules gave Pop a sheepish grin. Pop's glare could've broken Jules' resolve in time—but Pop flicked his gaze back-and-forth to Katarina. Follow her. Got it. The two boys rushed after Katarina. The Familiars stayed with Pop in the large central room. He still looks like he could blow with rage. And kill me, maybe at the same time.
Katarina wrote a note on a desk in what must have been her bedroom. Without looking up, she waved for them to shut the door. She held up a scribbled note:
> [He knows. Safe to stay, but can’t talk here. Play the role. Maidens arrived a week ago. Need your help to run.]
Jules finished reading and looked at Cyrus. Great.
Katarina crammed the paper in her mouth. She swallowed bitterly, grimaced, and then kicked her chair down loudly. Pop, as if on cue, burst through the door. Eyelids half-closed, eyebrows perfectly flat—I see the resemblance when they're mad.
“No closed doors in this home, young lady.” Veins popped on Pop's neck and forehead. He stormed off, muttering. “Damn kids messing up my paint job…”
Jules turned to Katarina. “OK, so now what, Kat?”
“Play the part—now we make out." Jules raised an eyebrow. “Just kidding, of course,” she said with a sly grin.
"No way," Cyrus said at the same time.
SLAP!
"Not in either of your dreams."
Well, she's right there.
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