REPEAT: The Aldonn Chronicles 1x05 "Take the Edge Off" Presented by 99geek.ca

1x05 “Take the Edge Off”

Released on http://www.patreon.com/99geek on March 2018

August dragged the wet cloth across her bare chest knowing it would do nothing to clean the dirt that clung to her. That dirt was more than skin deep, and no amount of washing would ever make her clean. She could still remember the child’s limp body, the memory swirling around in her head with all the other nasty images of things she’d done to others. And things that had been done to her. She could feel it all, as if it was happening again and again. She could feel each and every wound she suffered as if it was happening to her all at once.

She had to find relief. She didn’t know how much longer she could stand to live inside her own head. Stepping out from her room, she called her brother’s name hoping beyond hope there would be no answer.

“Lee?”

There was no answer.

“He went out,” Richter said from the senior lounge kitchen where he and his boyfriend seemed to be making lunch. Richter had a shaved head, often hidden under the hood of his leather jacket. Sean seemed to have been rubbing Richter’s hair when she’d come in. She didn’t want to speculate why.

August frowned in an attempt to hide her relief that her brother wasn’t there. “Doesn’t he know there’s a meeting tonight?”

Richter nodded blankly. “I think he knows.”

“He said there were some things he had to take care of first,” Sean told her, stirring something in a pot. Both August and Richter looked at him. “I mean, he didn’t say that to me, I just heard him telling Bart.” That made more sense.

Well good. It was all the better that he was out. August didn’t want him to by chance walk in on what she was about to do.

“We’re making a big pot of chili for the meet tonight,” Sean told August before she could leave the lounge. “You’re welcome to join us, or make something of your own to bring.”

August threw the gay man an incredulous look. “We’re gathering for war,” August told him bitterly. “Not a potluck.”

Sean frowned. “Why couldn’t we have both?”

August didn’t respond, leaving the lounge and following the stairs down to the lower levels. The Thieves Guild was made up of many entrances leading to outside, spiralling down to the main of headquarters made up of a series of chambers continuing down below ground. From the entrances to the surface, there was only down except for the senior lounge, rickety staircase for which was at the back of their headquarters.

August stepped off the rickety black stairs into a corridor, and passed a number of her fellow thieves, a few of which drew their daggers to press the handles against their chests in salute to her. She nodded at them and said nothing as she followed the corridors past the barracks, making a left and passing by a target range where recruits were training how to throw.

No one knew exactly who had dug out all the tunnels they now called home, it was believed to have been a project by the guild’s original founder but it must have taken unimaginable labor. She passed another corridor and finally came to one of their lesser visited corners of the HQ. The drug packing den.

The door was closed, and she opened its wooden form to a large chamber where low level men and women of their guild were manually laboring to process and package a variety of drug brands for street use. Some of them were from the guild, though others looked like people from the street, and from the way they twitched she wondered if the foreman had them enslaved to the work in return for more doses of their favourite drug.

The head of drug operations, and Bart’s best friend, was a rotund despicable and sweaty man named Donald Drumpf. She was certain that he used his position to garner all kinds of benefits from the people he had under his thumb. She hated the entire wing of their operations, but she knew Lee used Drumpf’s services for more than just the cash flow.

“What can I do for you today, Missy Durgens,” Donald said loudly, spotting her, and lumbering over. He put a hand on her back and led her with him down the lines of people working. His sweaty touch sent a shiver along her neck, and his hand seemed to travel from her upper back, down her spine towards her butt.

“I’ve got a headache,” August said, oversimplifying her problem. “I need something to take the edge off.”

“Don’t sample the merchandise,” Donald said with a shake of his fist. “That’s what I always say. Invented that saying myself.” He led her to the back of the facilities where it seemed a ray of light was shining in from outside. How he’d gotten the light all the way down there was beyond August’s guess. “I do have a particularly potent strain of pot I’ve been growing for mostly recreational use. That could do the trick.”

“I’m not here to get stoned with you, Donald.” He took his hand off her back.

“Of course,” he said, lumbering to his desk, covered in all kinds of drug paraphernalia including a glass bong, a chemistry set that didn’t look all that clean, and spare syringes. In a drawer he pulled out a small bottle with some pills. “These are mild hallucinogens when swallowed. You crush em up and snort em, they’re even stronger. Really amplifies what’s in your head, brings out your demons.”

He handed the bottle to her and she placed it on the table. “I don’t think so.”

He crossed his arms. “I dunno what to tell you Missy,” he said, and every time he called her missy the hairs on her neck stood up. It was that feeling she wanted to go away. All the guilt and empathy she felt for others. She didn’t want to feel any of that anymore. She wanted a drug that would make her alright with it all, but how could she explain that to him?

“The only other thing we’ve got is what your brother has us producing in large quantities,” he leaned past one of his workers and took a syringe from the table to show to her. It seemed to contain a blue liquid in its vial that caught the light in just such a way to dully shine. “It’s called Blue fire.”

She took the needle from him, and held it up to the light. “You inject it into your skin,” he continued to explain. Needles like these were a relatively new invention, and it opened up a whole new world for drug chemists.

“You mean your blood,” August corrected him. She’d heard that drugs administered that way were a lot more potent and effective.

“They say it’s like fire when it enters your blood lines,” He carried on. “Fries your entire nervous system, like fire ants ripping through your body. Leaves you very in the now I suppose. I don’t see the appeal, but it is unimaginably addicted. Anyone who takes it always returns for more.”

“And Lee has you use it on people as a punishment,” August said. It wasn’t a question.

“We sell it on the street, and people buy it in droves,” he told her. “And yes, he sometimes sends people to me who might be causing him trouble. It only takes one dose of this to have them eating out of his hand. They’ll give up any secret, throw their very lives away for the next dose. We also keep some of the prostitutes hooked on the stuff. The more rebellious ones. Also the orphans that don’t pass the physical trials to join the guild, we can’t just throw them back on the street to spill our secrets. We break them first.” He shook his head so hard his toupee almost fell off. Creating addicts was his business, and his business had never been better.

“I’ll take a case,” August told Donald, convinced it was what she needed. She grabbed a finished package from the counter and held it under her arm.

“You plan to use that on someone you really hate?” Donald asked her as she turned to leave.

“Yes,” she responded without looking back, leaving him alone to his despicable work.

*      *      *

“Are you sure it will work?” Lee asked the priest, feeling the judgement in the man’s eyes at the despicable question he’d just asked.

Instead of an immediate response, the balding old man turned away from Lee to strut down the aisle of his large church, past the wooden pews that sat empty, to approach the alter. Lee had no idea if he was supposed to follow behind, or wait there. Was this the man’s answer? Was it some kind of religious hokey pokey riddle?

The man grabbed a very large chalice from a shelf on the proscenium and handed it towards Lee. “As long as you can fill this whole cup to the very top,” He told the guildmaster. Lee jogged down the aisle and up onto the stage to grab the cup from the old man. “Kaliki will grant your request.”

“But be careful,” the priest continued. “If you spill even a little, you might have to kill more than just one person.”

Lee took the chalice confidently. “That won’t be a problem,” he told the priest.

“Also beware,” the priest said, apparently more to add. “Kaliki is the god of war. He will happily take with the very same hand he gives aid.”

Lee raised an eyebrow at the priest. “Why would you choose to worship a god who’s got the temperament of a pregnant woman?”

The priest seemed to frown at Lee’s sexist remark, but didn’t complain. Instead he explained, “Kaliki isn’t someone you choose to worship. He’s a force of nature, there whether you believe in him or not. I have just always thought it better to be on the side of the storm than in its path.”

“That advice seems more practical than mystical, preach.”

“You can call me Father Morpheus,” the priest told him. “I’ve always considered myself a very practical man. Does that bother you?”

Lee shook his head. “Just ain’t what I usually come to a church for,” he admitted.

“You’ve never been to a church in your entire life,” Morpheus told Lee with a grin.

Lee frowned. He wasn’t sure what he thought of this man. “How you know that?” He stepped away from the man, and down off the proscenium.

“Kaliki told me,” Morpheus said stepping up to his alter. “Just as he told me you would be coming to me today. And again tonight once your task is completed successfully.”

“He already knows I’ll succeed?” Lee asked, not completely believing what he was hearing. But the priest had been right about the other thing. He’d never stepped foot in a church before that day. Had never had to. Had never wanted to. It was the stained glass windows. They used to give him the willies.

Morpheus just smiled. Lee decided to ask another question. “Does he already know if I’m going to achieve my ultimate goal?”

“Of course he does,” the priest Morpheus told Lee, his smile only growing. “But if he answered your question, how would you know it was the truth, and he wasn’t just sending you to a glorious confident end. Either way suits his will just fine.”

“Alright,” Lee said, deciding that he’d had enough. “Well this was a fun chat. We’ll have to do it again sometime.” He started stepping backwards down the aisle towards the exit.

“We will,” Morpheus told Lee. “Tonight.”

*     *     *

“There!” Penelope yelled into the crowd of people, trusting that her compatriot would hear her. She’d spotted someone who would work perfectly for what they needed, and it seemed he’d noticed that he’d been spotted.

He took off like a horse getting kicked with spurs, darting through the crowds of people and barreling over a woman who was just shopping for some jewellery. Penelope took off after the man, jumping clear over the woman on the ground.

“He took my purse,” the woman yelled after her. Of course he did. The person she was chasing was a thief after all.

She brushed past a family as the father moved to cover his kids. She could only just see the thief now, his cloak billowing past a man in a turban. As he passed a fruit stall, he kicked over a basket of fruit, but Penelope just jumped clear over that as well. She wasn’t going to let him get away.

He left the market district, turning into an alley towards the commercial district. It was in that alley that Penelope finally caught up to him.

“Stop!” She yelled at him, grabbing his arm and pinning it to the wall of the alley. “We only want to ask you some questions.”

“We?” the thief asked, a dagger in his free hand.

He thrust the knife at Penelope, but Chris Christofferson caught the blade, coming around Penelope to pin that arm to the wall as well. He was dressed in his full suit of plate armour, and had the ridiculous feather in his helmet.

“We need to ask for just a couple little things and I promise we’ll let you go,” Christopherson told the thief, “guard’s honor.”

The thief’s eyes seemed to gravitate towards a storm drain that most certainly lead into the sewers.

“All we need to know, thief, is the password for your headquarters.” As the captain spoke the word thief, Penelope could hear the venom in his voice. The metal in the captain’s gauntlet creaked as he applied pressure to the man’s wrist.

“It’s chili potluck,” the thief relinquished. “But that won’t do you any good. If you enter the headquarters, you break the truce.” He looked from Christopherson to Penelope and then back again. “What’s the second thing?”

Christopherson clubbed the thief hard in the head with his gauntlet, and the thief dropped like a rock.

“I thought you were going to let him go,” Penelope complained.

“I am,” he promised her. “Right after you finish your mission. You wouldn’t want him blowing your cover, would you? Now take his clothes.”

“Eew,” Penelope mumbled, “can’t we wash them first?”

Christopherson crossed his arms with a clank. “If you’re going to be a spy you’re gonna have to stop being a princess.”

“I resent that,” Penelope said, but helping Christopherson undress the man regardlessly. As he got the man’s pants off, she took off her shawl and pants, replacing hers with his. Christopherson looked away, and handed her the man’s shirt. It was baggy, and she threw it over her shirt, taking the cape and hood the thief carried and throwing them over her shoulders.

“It’s possible for me to be both,” She told Christopherson, raising the hood over her long hair, and touching his arm so he’d know it was safe to turn around.

“It’s going to be imperative you aren’t recognized,” he insisted to her, “or cause any waves. Your training hasn’t progressed nearly far enough yet for you to have any chance in a one on one fight with a thief of the guild.”

“You mean I haven’t run enough laps?” Penelope asked the grey haired goatee’d man.

Christopherson frowned. “There’s a lot more to it than that.”

“Yeah, I know. That was my sarcastic voice.”

“If you’re discovered,” Christopherson said, frowning at her joke. I’m not sure if it’ll be possible for us to get you out.”

“Whatever happens,” Penelope told Christopherson. “Don’t break the truce.” The last thing she could afford right now was to have open war break out in the streets because of her. “I’ll get myself out. Promise.”

Christopherson frowned again. “I’m only about twenty percent convinced that that’s a promise you can keep.”

“I like those odds,” Penelope said in her sarcastic voice. He was still looking at her. “Would you stop?” she asked. “You’ve been all frowns today.”

“I don’t like the idea of staying behind while you put yourself in danger,” the man in armour told the princess with concern.

“Imagine how every woman feels, ever.”

“I’ll be praying for you.” He said, and drew her into a hug.

“Whoopee,” she said. “Has that ever worked for anyone?”

Christopherson released her. “You don’t believe in the gods?”

“There’s so many,” Penelope insisted, as Christopherson picked up the thief onto his shoulders, and the two of them left the alley to join the crowd. “How do you know which ones to believe?”

“I believe in many of them,” Christopherson told Penelope. “But I only pray to the one. Tempus. The god of might.” He pointed out a talisman on a nearby cart of religious trinkets. It looked like a hammer rising from a cloud.

“Really?” Penelope said in surprise. “Has it ever worked for you? What can you show me?”

“Nothing,” he said. “The gods don’t like to be called upon for frivolity. They will only answer the prayers of their followers in times when they need help the most.”

“Frivolity,” Penelope said. “That’s a lot of syllables. Say it again.”

Christopherson smiled, “Maybe I won’t pray for your return after all.”

“Well then I’m not going,” she joked. “I’ve got no hope out of this without your prayers backing me up.”

“You won’t want to go once I tell you where the entrance is,” he told her, leading her to what seemed like another alley. “This is the closest sewer entrance I know of,” he told her, “Though I believe any will do.”

He stopped at a large manhole cover and shrugged at her. She could smell the sewage from there.

“You’ve got to be kidding me.”

*     *     *

Holly couldn’t stop laughing, doubling over in tears grasping at her stomach as her friend continued her story.

“And I was just like, ‘She went that way.’ And he goes running off.”

“No!” Holly said loudly raising her hand in surrender. “Stop no more. He just believed you?”

“Sure,” the blonde haired Leah said. “Standing on that chair with the large trench coat I looked just like a grown up.” She handed Holly another piece from her large loaf of bread.

“Thanks,” Holly said, pulling a chunk of white from the crust and stuffing it hungrily into her mouth. Her father hadn’t let her eat breakfast that morning, complaining that her haul from begging on the street wasn’t enough to cover her share. She often wondered if her parents had only had her for the money they’d hoped to make from her. Or maybe she was just an unhappy accident from their lust. Oh yeah, not even twelve, she already knew all about sex. Enough to know she’d never have it as long as she lived. As long as she had anything to say about it. Something her mother said many girls don’t get.

Leah didn’t know all the things Holly knew. Though she knew a whole lot of things Holly didn’t. They were sitting in the Royal district watching ships arrive at the port. That had been where they met, and she was pretty sure the girl lived somewhere near there. It wasn’t just ships passing by that caught their eyes. Leah also new the best area to watch the rich folk come and go, all dressed in absurd outfits that seemed impossible to move or breath in. They had already spent so many hours there laughing together that the port seemed a necessary reprieve.

Holly looked to the sky and tried to gauge the position of the sun. “You think it’s noon yet?”

Leah followed Holly’s gaze, tilting her head a little. “A little past. Why?”

“Shit,” Holly said, shaking her brown bangs so that they fell over her face as she finished the crust of her bread piece. “I gotta go.”

“Your dad?” Leah asked, standing up with her.

“Not exactly but kinduh,” Holly told her. “I’ve got a mission to accomplish.”

“Sounds dangerous,” Leah told her, her large ears seeming to perk up like a dog’s. “Count me in.”

“My dad’s involved,” Holly insisted to her friend. “Trust me, you won’t wanna meet him.”

Leah touched Holly’s arm. “Does he suck?”

“Doesn’t all dads?” Holly asked, pulling away.

“Mine’s alright,” Leah said with a shrug. “Take me with you anyway. Parents love me. I’m great with them.”

Holly smiled despite herself. “You’re gonna regret this.”

She took off through the crowds, running like it was a game. She looked back for just a second to see that Leah was following her, but didn’t slow down and almost barreled into a tall man with a wooden hand.

“Sorry,” she said, swinging past him and continuing on.

Leah caught up to her, laughing between breaths. “You almost knocked his hand clear off.”

“There should be laws against hands like that,” Holly told her friend. “He could have swung it like a weapon!” They crossed the large bridge into the market district, and Holly grabbed Leah’s hand as the crowds thickened around them. She led Leah diagonally past the stalls towards the fifth district.

“Beggar’s road?” Leah asked Holly as they approached the fifth district. “I don’t come here much.”

“Few people do,” Holly told her friend. “There’s not much reason to unless you’re too poor to make it anywhere else.”

They skipped over a broken cobblestone, and Holly led Leah up the decrepit wooden porch and into their rundown townhouse. Her father was in the living room, entertaining a man from his guild.

“It’s just my daughter,” her father told the man as he glanced at the door nervously. Her dad was wearing his new leather jacket, though it was a little tight on him. Holly knew that it had previously belonged to Frankie. It had also looked much better on her.

“You bring in anything?” Her father asked her, and Holly made a slight motion with her hand to tell Leah to wait by the front door as she stepped into the living room.

“I wasn’t begging,” she admitted honestly to him. “People don’t take pity on me like they used to.”

“You’ve gotten too old,” he muttered as if she was no longer of any use to him.

“I’ll find another way to make money,’ Holly told her dad. “But I’m keeping it all for myself from now on.” Her father stood up. “I’m almost a teenager now and it’s time I start taking care of myself.”

Her father crossed the room and grabbed her by the neck of her shirt. “Who do you think pays for your room here, girl? Who feeds you?”

“Barely enough to live,” she complained.

“What about feeding your mother,” he asked her roughly, shaking her. “Who’s gunna pay for that.”

“You gonna hit her with me standing here?” Leah said from the door, stepping into their house.

“Who in the hells are you?” Her father asked with little interest at being polite.

“She’s my friend,” Holly insisted angrily.

“Get out,” he said to Leah, releasing Holly but giving her a look that screamed they’d talk about this later. “She’s not allowed to have friends over.”

“She’ll be here for a couple hours,” Holly continued stubbornly. “She’s here to help me pick out an outfit for job searching tomorrow.” He seemed like he was going to grab her again. “We’ll be in my room.” She looked at the guildmember her father had been talking to, and it seemed her father remembered the man was there for the first time since Holly walked in.

“Go,” he muttered angrily, waving Holly away as he returned to the living room. “What were you saying about the headquarters? You telling me we don’t even have enough room for everyone?”

“I’m telling you we haven’t been at full capacity like this in decades,” the man said as Holly beckoned for Leah to follow her up the old creaky stairs.

“Your father’s a little intense,” Leah whispered to Holly. She had no idea. Holly stopped her halfway up the stairs, and stepped repeatedly on the same creaky step a few more times as her father listened in the room below.

“I’ve been trying to get the new password out to all the necessary contacts before tonight,” the man continued talking to her dad.

“What is the new password?” her father asked the man.

“Chili potluck.”

Leah got in close to Holly, careful not to make any more noise on the stairs. “Are we spying on your dad?” she whispered.

“That’s the dumbest thing I ever heard,” her father’s voice said from downstairs.

“Shh,” Holly whispered to her friend.

“Well you weren’t there so the choice of password went to the gays.”

Her father groaned. “Theys were the worst things ever happen to our guild,” there was a thump as her father hit the table with his fist. Then a metallic sounding thunk as something else hit the table.

“You still haven’t got the hand of that thing?” the man asked.

“It seems ta do the opposite of what I want every time.”

Holly signalled for her friend, and they carefully tiptoed up the steps, taking two steps at a time to minimize noise. She then led Leah away from her bedroom into her father’s.

“Is this the mission you were talking about?” Leah asked as Holly went straight for her father’s closet. “What does your father do?”

“He’s second in command of the Thieves Guild,” she explained to her friend as she shifted through her father’s things. Some of it was the limited selection of outfits he wore every day, but it was a large closet and most the racks were filled with extra thieving outfits and uniforms for recruits or emergencies. “He’s also the head of security.” She said, pulling out three black cloaks from the racks.

“So you’re stealing his shit,” Leah said, watching Holly go. Her tone suggested that Holly was insane.

“Come on,” Holly said, making it back for the stairs. She’d understand in time.

“You know,” Leah said, whispering in the upper floor hallway. “I thought we could like pretend that this was exciting. But I think this has got a little too actually exciting for me. Don’t you just have like crayons we can color with?”

“My daddy made me eat my crayons once,” she told her friend, “as punishment. I’ve never really wanted crayons again after that.”

“No, that makes sense” Leah followed her reasoning.

“Look,” Holly said. “The door is straight ahead. I’m going downstairs now. You can leave there and I can talk to you again in our usual spot…”

“Or?”

“Or you can come with me to meet my friend.” Holly started down the stairs, letting her feet land more loudly so her dad could hear. She’d rather he never knew how stealthily she could really take those stairs.

“I thought you said I was your only friend,” Leah complained.

“She’s not like you,” Holly promised the blond.

“But she’s a she…”

Holly smiled, assuming her friend was all in. She pushed her towards the kitchen, and stepped into view of her dad as she opened the door noisily and waved. “Goodbye Leah!” she called out the door. “Thanks for helping me pick this outfit. Have a good one.”

“Good,” Holly’s dad from the living room. “She’s gone.”

“Uh huh,” Holly told him. “I took a cloak from your closet,” She raised one of the cloaks for him to see.

“Yeah whatever,” he said. He could care less about clothes. “I’m gonna be out tonight. All night. With your mother. You’re gonna have to figure out your own dinner.”

“So just another normal night then,” Holly said with a roll of her eyes.

“Was that cheek?” her father asked.

“Yeah,” she said walking away from him towards the kitchen. “Here’s two more.”

“Your daughter’s spunky,” the man with her father said.

“For five hundred gold you can take her off my hands,” her father said. “She’s still unspoiled.”

“Eew,” Leah said as Holly got close to her. “He’s kidding right?”

“I don’t think so,” Holly admitted as she opened a door that lead downstairs. “The only thing I got going for me is that none o’ his friends got five hunnerd gold to their names.”

“So you told him about being in his room,” Leah said.

“Covering my ass,” Holly admitted as she led her friend downstairs. “In case he figures out I was in there. Better he not know the real reason.”

“To help your friend,” Leah said, still whispering. “…who lives in your basement.”

“No,” Holly refuted her assessment of what they were up to. “And watch out for the puddle to your left. That pipe has been leaking for a year.” The basement was a leaky moldy mess, where rats and other vermin scrambled about openly. Leah nearly screamed as she almost stepped on a trail of dead maggots, leading from where a bag of food had been left unattended. Holly put her hand over Leah’s mouth.

“My room has all my toys and books and games and stuff,” Holly started to explain.

“So why aren’t we there?” Leah asked.

“Whenever I was grounded, my father would lock me down here instead.”

Leah looked around in horror, going more pale than Holly had ever known her. “You have had the worst childhood of like all time.”

“Trust me,” Holly said with a sinking thought. “I’ve not.” She waved for Leah to help her move a number of boxes. “Anyway, with nothing to do down here, I dug myself a tunnel out and hid it here.” They pushed the boxes successfully aside and found the hole in the wall that led through the dirt to outside the house.

Leah’s jaw dropped. “You’re like a criminal mastermind,” she said, and leaning in Leah planted a kiss on Holly.

Holly wiped her lips on her sleeve. “What was that for?” she asked in surprise.

“Sorry,” Leah apologized. “You just seemed so cool suddenly, and I’ve been feeling these weird feelings of sympathy and pity and respect and I think I like you.”

“The kiss kinda gave that last part away,” Holly said bluntly. “I um…” She was going to tell her friend she didn’t like girls that way, but she thought better of having that conversation there. “Can we do this outside?”

“You promise there’ll be less maggots out there?” Leah asked, crouching down to crawl through.

“Most definitely,” Holly assured her, following her back outside into the sunlight. They were at the side of the building, and she followed the side of the house into the backyard where Frankie and her friends were waiting.

“Frankie!” Holly said, and she gave her friend a hug.

“Did you get them?” Frankie asked Holly, and she produced the robes. “Told you she’d have it covered.” Frankie said to Edward, giving the soldier a look.

“You put her in danger for some robes?” Edward asked Frankie. “I could have bought us some robes from the market.

“Okay moneybags,” Frankie said tauntingly. “But your robes wouldn’t have these,” She showed Edward the Thieves Guild emblem on the collar of the cloaks.

“What is that?” Edward asked looking closely. “A backwards E?”

“It’s a T,” Frankie assured him.

“Looks more like a backwards E.”

“You sure your father won’t miss these?” Aldonn asked Holly.

“Aw no, he’s got a bunch in his closet.” Holly assured them. “Never even touches em. He’ll probably need some tonight, but no way he’s kept count how many are in there.”

“So,” Leah said, stepping forward to include herself with the group. “You’re just leading a group of grown ups against your father’s guild, spying for them right under his nose?”

“This is my friend Leah,” Holly told them.

“Dude,” Leah said to Holly. “Your life is so cool. I mean it’s horrible. But also awesome.”

“Horrible?” Frankie repeated what Leah said. “If your dad gives you too much trouble, or hurts you in anyway, you tell him he’ll have to deal with me.”

“It’s a pleasure to meet you Leah,” Aldonn offered Holly’s friend his hand.

“Alright big guy,” Frankie said, patting the tall long blonde haired man on the shoulder. “We don’t got time for niceties. We have a party to crash.”

“I overheard the new password,” Holly said, remembering what she’d overheard her father talking to the man about. “It’s Chili Potluck.”

“Mmm,” Frankie said. “That sounds pretty good right now.”

Edward crossed his arms. “What’s with you and food?”

“I like food,” Frankie said, leaping effortlessly over the fence, the other two following behind her. “You guys should probably know,” Frank’s voice was heard fading away, “Thieves Guild events can get a little over the top.”

“Your friends are cool,” Leah said to Holly excitedly.

“Go home Leah,” Holly said, and Leah looked so disheartened. “Come back after the sun goes down. My dad will be gone. I’ll show you all my action figures.”

“Sweet,” Leah said with excitement, “and I’ll bring mine and we’ll have the whole house as our playground.”

Holly laughed. “I can’t wait.”

Holly frowned as she looked to the house. “You sure you’ll be okay?” Leah asked her.

Holly nodded. “I’ve been dealing with my dad for almost twelve years now.”

“I got this.”

*     *     *

August collapsed onto her bed, tangling herself in a sea of her sheets as she writhed in a pool of her own sweat. Her muscles were on fire, her very flesh feeling like it was melting from her bones. She’d never known pain like that. It was mind numbing. All consuming. All there was.

Was this what it felt like to die? Was this what the boy felt as her spear penetrated his heart?

She reached for another syringe, clenching her hand into a fist until it stopped shaking from the pain. She’d already taken two, the second seeming to enhance the effects of the first exponentially. How bad would three be? She could take it, she’d lived her whole life in pain. It was her only friend.

She shoved the syringe in her arm, and immediately regretted it, injecting herself before she could change her mind and missing the bed as she fell, hitting her head hard on the floor. It didn’t even hurt, her head, not as much as the raging fire that coarsed through her veins. She gasped, and it was all she could do to keep from screaming. Her arm shot out, grabbing for the covers of her bed but instead she hit the frame, cracking one leg and causing the entire mattress to drop through. It hit the floor with a loud boom that vibrated through her wildly fluctuating senses, the bed clattering apart in a series of loud clatters. August reached for her ears, covering them desperately to drown out the sound.

There was another loud clatter, but she could swear it wasn’t the bed. Was it a clatter, or a boom? There it was again, boom boom boom. It was almost like a drum beat. She wanted to dance to it, a somber sliding dance into darkness.

The boom again. Was it the door? Was there someone at the door?

Boom boom boom.

It was almost as loud as her breathing. She had to answer it, but… the pain.

She wouldn’t let it control her. Clenching her fists she tried to focus on the door, letting the pain roll over her, fuel her. She reached out, grabbing at a side table and forcing herself up. Stumbling to the door, she grabbed it to keep from falling over, and forced it open.

It was her brother Lee.

“It’s begun,” he told her, his eyes seeming to penetrate her, like he could see right through her. He looked her up and down, his eyes judging. Could he tell she was high? Could he hear her breathing? It was so loud. She tried holding her breath, but she could still hear it.

“I’ll be there,” she tried to say, but he was still looking at her. What was it?

“Maybe you should put some clothes on,” he said, turning to leave. She looked down to realize she was stark naked. She hadn’t even noticed the cold of the underground on her naked flesh. She had never felt warmer. She’d never felt more alive.

Throwing on a tight pair of pants and a baggie shirt, forgoing all underwear, August stepped out of her room into the darkly lit senior lounge. There was booming coming from below in the main area of their base, and lights flashing up from the stairs. She made for those stairs, each and every step feeling like knives slicing through her feet. As her hand touched the metal railing it felt electric to her touch, shocking her entire body and searing her very brain.

She stepped down the rickety staircase, each foot landing to the beat of the booming, the music of the party washing over her as the stairs shook and creaked under her weight. Stepping off the bottom stair, she was immediately overwhelmed by the masses of people in the hallways all dancing to the loud booming music of the band from elsewhere in the base. She followed the noise, slipping through the crowd, passing by her guildmates, a sea of faces she could hardly recognize.

One young man August thought she recognized as someone recently promoted from recruit, despite his pimply face, was talking to an older man with greased back hair she was pretty sure was one of Bart’s field agents. She’d only seen him a couple times, as he spent most his time off base. He’d never made an impression either time, and she was just slipping past him when she overheard the younger man’s voice so loud it rattled her ear drum.

“The problem with these meets is that there’s never any women,” he nodded to August as she passed. “Except for the one that’s off limits of course. No one would ever try to mess with her.”

A smile crept on August face as she realized he’d been talking about her. The man he was talking to just snorted.

“No woman is off limits,” he told the younger guildmate with a shake of his finger. “I can bed any girl I choose. They always say yes to me. Watch this.” He swung his hand around to grab at August’s butt. “Hello lady, my name is Gar---“

August grabbed his hand before it got even close to her butt cheek, and forcefully twisted it around until the man dropped to his knees. She held his wrist precariously in her strong grip, twisting it to the very edge of breaking.

“You men,” she snarled at him as he screamed. “You think you’re so powerful.”

“Aaaagh,” the man screamed in agony, his pain a far cry from the agony she felt. He didn’t know pain. He couldn’t handle the pain she knew.

She leaned down close to his cheek and whispered in his ear, “Piss yourself.”

“What?” he shrieked in surprise and confusion, “Please don’t.”

She twisted his wrist a little further and he screamed. All that existed was her, him, and the pain. Watching him squirm humoured her. Once she broke his wrist, she wondered what else she might want to break.

A wet spot grew on his pants, and a puddle flowed beneath him.

“Please,” he begged pathetically. “I’m sorry.”

She released the sad excuse of a man, and smiled at the younger guildmember. “That’s power.” She told him, blowing him a kiss before turning her back on them both.

“I tried to warn you man,” she heard the younger guildmember tell Bart’s loser agent.

The crowd parted before her, letting her pass through them into the main hall as the music from the live band pounded away. There was a man on drums, hitting a pounding somber beat, the band around him wailing away on their instruments. The music washed over august like waves of sound. She couldn’t even make out the tune, or the words being sung, but she gyrated to the beat and danced her way threw the crowd. She let the pain lead her and she danced a cold violent interpretive dance of death. If anyone saw her, she wasn’t aware of it. The masses of people were only flames licking at her as she danced. In her world, it was only herself.

And the pain.

*     *

“Chili potluck,” Frankie said into the manhole cover, deepening her voice in the hopes the man inside wouldn’t recognize it.

“You’re late,” the guildmember said from beneath the cover, the manhole moved aside, and the young recruit beaconed for them to follow him down. “The festivities have already begun.”

“Oh no,” Edward said sarcastically, following after Frankie into the hole. “Did we miss the preshow?”

“Do you think it was anything important?” Aldonn asked from above them.

“I imagine it was debaucherous,” Edward told their blond friend. The three of them had draped themselves in the long cloaks that Holly had stolen, Frankie making sure to cover her face with a scarf as well, for extra disguise. A lot of people in the guild would only need a single good look to recognize her. And there would be a lot of people in the guild at the event.

“I’m sure there’s still plenty of debauchery to come,” Frankie assured Ed as they reached the bottom of the ladder.

“It’s too bad I can’t go,” The man leading the way stepped aside for Frankie to get down. “I’m stuck on door duty.”

Edward got off the ladder behind Frankie and groaned. “We’re back in the sewers again.”

“Well these ones are a lot cleaner at least,” Frankie argued, taking in the cramped surroundings. “As promised.” It was also far drier than the last sewers they’d been in. It was more like an abandoned storm drain.

“Comparatively,” Edward muttered, drawing his cloak close to him as he led the way down the storm drain.

“I was on clean up duty,” the young guildmember that let them in said with a look of despair crossing his face. Aldonn gave him a reassuring pat on the back.

“Things will get better,” Aldonn promised him and the man gave Aldonn a nod before climbing back up the ladder. Aldonn was so tall and broad shouldered that his cloak hung many many inches above his ankles, looking down right silly.

“You look ridiculous,” Frankie told her friend, waving for him to pass her. Up ahead Edward had stopped.

“I don’t actually know which way to go.”

*    *

Penelope had had no problem getting in. She gave the password and the person standing guard was only more than happy to allow her inside. He was even excited to lead her to the main hall, through a surprisingly well kept section of the sewers. He opened the hatch for her, and she stepped through into what must have been the thieves’ headquarters, the music blasting at her ears as she stepped into a sea of people so thick she couldn’t see where it ended.

There was a live band on a stage pounding away on percussion and string instruments as one man tried to sing over all the noise with a megaphone, to limited desired effect. As terrible as the music was, however, it didn’t stop the mass of men from dancing along. If you could call thrashing their heads and jumping up and down dancing.

The lights were going crazy too. It seemed that filters had been placed over candles throughout the room to let off multi-coloured beams of light that flickered and swayed seemingly to the music. The torches along the walls also had shapes and colours draped over them, letting off crazy shadows amongst the glorious light shows.

She tried to squeeze her way through the crowd, keeping her head down best she could, but one person stopped her to thrash his head excitedly. Unsure how to proceed, she thrashed her head back and he cheered.

“Great party,” she yelled at him.

“What?” he yelled back. This was a waste of her time.

She got in close to him and spotted someone in the crowd. “That tall guy over there isn’t dancing,” she told the thief. “Go get him.”

The man started making his way away from Penelope, and she pushed to the bar along one corner.

“It’s an open bar miss,” the bartender said loudly. “What can I get you?”

Penelope wondered how well stocked a bar in the Thieves Guild was. “I’ll take a vodka with tomato juice and hot sauce.”

The bartender, a middle aged man with a moustache and a vest, smiled and grabbed a small glass to get to work on her beverage.

As she waited, trying not to let the music shake her, someone tapped her shoulder from behind and she jumped nearly out of her cloak. “Hey!” A man’s voice said, and she was afraid for a moment to turn. Had she been found out?

“You must be new,” the man in his twenties said as she turned around. He had stubble under his square chin, and nice looking hair.

“Yeah,” she told him, trying not to let him see her face. He seemed quite adamant to look her in the eyes. “You wouldn’t know me.”

“You’re right,” he said, crossing his arms and leaning on the bar. The bartender handed her the red beverage she ordered, and she sucked from the straw playfully as he talked. “I had been told we didn’t have any female recruits. Boy is Garth gonna kick himself.” Penelope tried to force a smile. Though she had been careful not to let him get a good look at her. “Are you single?”

“The name’s Mitchel,” he said, offering his hand. “I’m a lieutenant you know. Just a few levels down from a senior staff member.” He was flirting with her! She was so scared that someone would try to kill her, she hadn’t even realized she was the only attractive woman at this whole party.

Penelope shrugged her shoulders, and gave him a flirty smile. “Is that good?” she asked him, trying to sound impressed. She fluttered her eyelashes, then stopped doing that as it seemed to be coming on a little strong.

“Let’s just say,” Mitchel told her, “That the senior members totally know me by name.”

*

The pounding music and flashing crazy light show was enough to give Edward a headache. There were so many bodies, all pressing in close to him. It was more than he could handle.

“Are all these people members of your guild?” he leaned in to ask Frankie. There were more people here than he could count. Were there really this many thieves stalking the streets of Capsin?

“A few are probably representatives from foreign branches,” Frankie explained to him, pointing to one particularly pale man in green leather. “That guy is wearing Tessauren colours.”

Frankie slapped Edward on the chest with the back of her hand. “You guys just try to blend in,” Frankie yelled at the two of them loudly. “I’m gonna go on the prowl.”

“Prowl?” Edward repeated her. “What does that even mean?”

“I think it’s a Thieves Guild thing,” Aldonn said to Edward.

“It’s not a Thieves Guild thing,” Edward insisted loudly into Aldonn’s ear. “Anyone can prowl. I can prowl.”

“You said you don’t know what prowling is.”

Edward frowned. “I know if she can do it, then I can do it too.”

A man pushed his way through the crowd towards them, and came up to Aldonn thrashing his head and jumping up and down. Aldonn too began to jump up and down, and the two men threw their arms in the air. The man who had joined them even stuck out his tongue in success.

“What are you doing?” Edward asked Aldonn awkwardly as he continued to jump.

“Frankie told us to blend in,” Aldonn said, waving his hands in the air to the music as he jumped.

“Well you’re not doing a good job,” Edward said. “And you’re making me look weird.” He didn’t want to be the only one not dancing. Then he’d look out of place.

“Why don’t you just do this too?” Aldonn asked Edward.

“Cause I don’t wanna look weird…”

*

“I got this cut stealing from a chocolate shop,” a thief with a pimpled face said, leaning in to show Penelope the scar on his finger. “Sliced right across. Bled for twenty minutes at least.”

“Ow,” Penelope said, giving the young guild member a pitying look. “That sounds like it hurt.”

“You call that a cut, Andy?” Mitchel said, butting in. “I sliced my finger here right to the bone,” he showed her a scar on his finger, and Penelope had to roll her eyes at the two men competing with each other for her affection.

“You’re both so brave,” she told them.

“You think that’s impressive?” someone else said from the bar. “You should see this cut I have running down my leg.”

“That’s supposed to be bad?” someone else said. She was drawing quite a crowd around herself. “A man over there lost his whole leg.”

*

Frankie creeped stealthily through the crowds, careful not to touch anyone or make anyone even aware of her presence. She was like a shadow amongst the mass of thieves that had gathered. That was until she found herself at the food table.

“Wow,” she said, looking around the table to make sure no one was watching, and lowering her scarf for Richter to see her face. “I guess Chili Potluck wasn’t just a mislead after all.”

Richter looked up from where he was stirring a large pot of the stuff and his face turned when he recognized her. “Frankie!” he snarled. “What in the hells are you doing here?”

Frankie grabbed a bowl and stole the spatula from Richter to ladle herself a serving of the chili. “You didn’t think I’d miss this, did you?” she said, grabbing a small spoon from the table and digging into her food. “This is delicious.” It had just a kick of spice.

“It’s the paprika,” Richter said. “If Lee sees you-- Or one of the other senior members-- They’ll kill you on the spot. Make a spectacle of it for all of us to watch.”

“So Lee’s in one of his good moods,” Frankie muttered. “Relax,” she assured Richter, though that all DID sound pretty bad. “We’re here to take care of things.”

Richter swallowed a spoonful of his own chili. “Is that supposed to relax me?” he asked.

“How’s his sister?” Frankie asked between spoonfuls of chili. “Last I saw her she killed a kid.”

“I don’t think she’s dealing with it well,” Richter admitted to her.

Frankie shrugged. “I’ll just have to cross that bridge when I come to it,” she said absentmindedly, having spotted her next target through the crowd.

“Frankie. No,” Richter said, following Frankie’s gaze. “He’s untouchable.”

“He has my coat,” she said. It was Bart, the man she’d spotted in a sea of bodies. He was fraternizing with a few of his men. Frankie could tell the ones that belonged to his security detail, as they were the only ones armed. There were maybe ten surrounding the party, keeping an eye from nearly every wall. She couldn’t tell how many were in the hallways, where the party was most definitely spilling into.

She prowled after Bart as he finished his conversation, and began making his way through the crowd. Putting her scarf back over her face, Frankie became the shadow she was born to be, and prepared herself to stalk Bart for as long as it took. She’d wait till he was alone, and then she was going to kill him.

*

“I don’t see Frankie anywhere,” Edward told Aldonn, scanning the crowd frantically. “You think they got to her? We could be all alone down here. In the sewers. Like my nightmare.”

Aldonn shook his head, his blond hair shaking loose of his hood. “How do you expect to see her with all these people wearing the same kind of hood.”

Edward shrugged. “She’s the short manly one,” he reasoned.

As he was scanning the crowds, his eyes came upon someone else. “Don’t look now,” he said as he spotted another of his nightmares. Today was just one of those days. “It’s the queen bitch.” August was dancing in the middle of a crowd of thieves, all of them seeming to give her a wide birth. She was throwing her pale arms in the air, throwing her head around wildly as her soaking wet black hair flew wildly around her face.

She turned in their direction and Edward quickly turned around so as to have his back to her. “You think she saw me?” Edward asked.

“I don’t think she can see anything,” Aldonn replied, watching her openly without concern. “She seems pretty out of it.”

“Really?” Edward asked, afraid to look. “She always seemed so in control to me.”

*

Penelope spotted August in the crowd, knowing full well the high ranking thief would recognize her in a heart beat. She seemed to be spinning in place, and as she turned towards Penelope, the princess leaned in on the young pimple faced man and kissed him on the lips. She held it until August turned away. All the crowd gathering around them ‘oooed’ and cheered as they kissed.

The young guildmember Andy took a deep breath upon their release.

“Hey,” Mitchel said in complaint. Penelope saw August turning towards them again and she promptly planted a similar kiss on Mitchel. At least she meant it to be similar, but his tongue snaked its way into her mouth. It batted at her tongue and seemed to be reaching for her throat. She almost threw up in his mouth.

She tried to pull away, but he grabbed onto her head with his hand and kept shoving his tongue deeper. Finally he let go of her and she pulled free, breathing heavily. Searching the crowds, it seemed she’d lost track of August. All the better, she’d danced her way to elsewhere in the headquarters.

Mitchel smiled to Andy. “I kissed her longer,” he said. Their little competition was starting to get old.

*

Frankie watched Bartholomew as he made his way around the base, never taking her eyes off him for even a minute. If there was one thing she was starting to learn about him, it was that he didn’t like to be alone. He seemed to travel from one social group to another, also taking time to check in on each security checkpoint. The people that Bart had working under him were all the greasiest most despicable types.

Finally the moment came where Frankie realized she’d probably have her best chance. Bart made for the bathroom.

“Wish I could hit up the bars with you,” he said to one man standing near the bathroom door. “I’ll be heading back tonight with my ol’ ball and chain.”

“Man what’s it like having a family?” the thief asked Bart and he shrugged. “Where is your wife anyway?”

“In the kitchens,” Bart told the man. “Like any good woman.”

Bart went into the bathroom. Frankie followed in behind him.

The bathroom was small, with a couple stalls, and a large shallow trough for a urinal. It seemed there was a trickle of water from places unknown that ran through the trough from one side to the other washing it clean. Cleanish.

Bart was at the urinal, and was leaning over to pee into the trough. Frankie stepped up beside him.

“I’ve never understood how these things work,” she said to him, putting her hand in front of her junk, trying to match his pose. “I just like whip it out, and then I can pee anywhere?” She mimed holding a hose and swinging it wildly about.

Bart turned and startled. “Jesus,” he said, fidgeting to get his member back in his pants.

“Don’t hurt yourself now,” Frankie said, slapping Bart on the back so that he’d stumble into the trough and get piss on his shoes and pant leg.

“Dammit,” he swore and she backed away as he stumbled out. “You shouldn’t have come back, Frankie. I’m gonna fak you up, then serve you on a dish to my boss.” He dropped his arm to his side, giving his wrist a twist to launch a dagger from his sleeve into his hand. Only he missed catching it and the dagger fell to the floor, two more falling after it with a clatter. One dagger fell out his other sleeve too, for good measure.

“Aww,” Frankie cooed fake pity. “What’s wrong? Performance issues?” She shrugged her cloak off her shoulders so it fell into a pile on the ground.

He roared, stumbling across the bathroom at her. He swung at her with his fist, and she nimbly sidestepped him, kicking him in the stomach. She didn’t even have to put much force in her leg, she just used his momentum and took the wind right from his lungs. He swung lazily with his arm, and instead of dodging it, she hooked her arm around it, twisting his wrist and catching the dagger that fell from his sleeve.

“Some people just have it,” she told him. She swung the blade at him, and then threw it at his hand in the hopes of pinning it to the bathroom wall. He managed to move just in time, even drunk he possessed the reflexes of a thief. He grabbed the knife, looking to pull it from the wall, and Frankie jumped off the bathroom counter to punch Bart in the head with a right hook. She spun, bringing her left arm around for another strike but Bart let go of the dagger and backed up. Her arm hit the wall and Bart got two good punches in, one to her gut, and the other to her face. She dropped hard onto her back, and as Bart leaned down to grab at her she gripped the sideburns of his head and smashed his forehead into the tile of the bathroom wall.

“Gah,” he groaned, lifting her up and grabbing at her throat, her legs wrapping around his chest. She punched him repeatedly in the head as he carried her and smashed her through the door of one of the stalls, smacking her into the tile of the wall over the potty.

His grip tightened on her neck as he tried to choke the life out of her, drool dripping down his chin. Her legs came up over his shoulders and wrapped around HIS neck, suddenly it was a battle of stamina. Who could last longer in a sleeper hold. Not that Bart was looking to put her to sleep.

His grip tightened and Frankie’s vision started to swoon. She tried to squeeze her legs tighter but she was starting to lose consciousness. She smacked the side of his head as hard as she could with her fist. And then again. Suddenly he turned around and threw her the length of the bathroom to collide with the porcelain of the urinal and crack it with her back. The pain was crippling, and Bart came at her with a number of heavy punches she couldn’t even hope to avoid while still catching her breath. How was he still so steady?

She dropped hard, her head landing near one of the daggers Bart had dropped earlier. She kicked out with her left leg, taking out Bart’s knee. She was pretty sure she heard it pop as it bent the wrong way and he dropped with a scream of pain. With Frankie’s other leg, she kicked off the ground and rolled backwards to her feet.

Bart tried to stand.

“I want my jacket back,” she told him and he swung a desperate punch at her. She deked under the punch, hooking on the sleeve and pulling the jacket half off of him. Sliding into the sleeve herself, she took advantage of the proximity with Bart to strike some blows on him with her free elbow and fist. She knocked him hard enough to bend him backwards, then pulled him forwards with her half of the jacket.

As he bent forward, Frankie rolled over Bart’s back, taking the jacket with her and yanking free the other sleeve. Before Bart could even react, she kicked him in his bad knee and he dropped hard to a kneel.

“HE—“ Bart started to scream for help but Frankie spun and roundhouse kicked Bart in the face, dropping him like a rock, and catching a knife in her hand from her sleeve. She brought the blade down on his head so it was an inch from his cheek.

“I should kill you right now,” she told him with a growl. “You’re fakking lucky I like your kid.” She struck him hard with the handle instead, knocking him unconscious.

Frankie was slow to get up, and it took her a few moments to steady herself. Her back still hurt from where he’d thrown her across the room, and her ears still rang from the few successful hits he’d managed to land on her. Frankie hugged her jacket tight to her body. “It’s okay. Mommy’s back.”

She sniffed her jacket and frowned. “You smell like Bart,” she said to her jacket, still just happy to have it back. She’d have to give it a good wash later to get rid of Bart’s stank. She grabbed her cloak from the floor and draped it back over her shoulders. If they were going to make a move tonight, she’d have to take out all of Bart’s armed men without anyone noticing. Lucky for her, she’d memorized where each of Bart’s security detail were stationed. This would be a piece of cake.

*

Aldonn didn’t understand Edward’s resentment towards thieves. So far, from what Aldonn had seen of them, they seemed like ordinary people with their own wants and urges and feelings. The joy he saw in the people around him didn’t betray any kind of evil that Aldonn could tell. They just wanted to celebrate being alive, and that was a notion he could get behind.

A short man wearing a unique looking pressed suit and shades stepped onto the stage as the band was still in the middle of one of their songs. “Who do you think that guy is?” Edward asked as the man joined the singer in a chorus of his song, even though this new figure couldn’t sing for the life of him.

“That’s Lee,” said Frankie, suddenly beside them.

“Where did you just come from?” Edward asked in surprise. “I’ve been looking for you for like an hour. At least it’s felt like an hour.”

“Relax,” Frankie told him, but Aldonn couldn’t help but notice her suggestion having the opposite effect on Edward. “I’ve been taking out Bart’s guards around the party. Lee is the leader of the guild. He’ll be making his speech soon. This is how he starts.”

“How many guards were you able to take out?” Aldonn asked her, hoping she didn’t mean permanently, but figured it would be better he didn’t ask.

“A little over half,” she told him, “there’s still some along that wall,” she nodded to the wall past Aldonn.

“Alright,” came Lee’s voice from the stage. “That was fun wasn’t it? Wow.” He raised his fist in the air and a jet of fire streamed from the stage. He made finger guns, firing them off in both directions as two more jets of fire fired off from above in either direction. A few of the guild members closest to the stage took a couple steps back.

“Yeah!” Lee yelled and he raised both fists high so that all the fire was going off at once. Lowering his hands, all the fire stopped. “Does the king look this cool when he gives a speech?”

The crowd cheered, and the cheering seemed to fuel him. Aldonn finally understood the danger of this man. He was darkly charismatic. He knew how to control a crowd.

“The king,” Lee said, straightening. “I can do king. Hello foreign delegaries of Ysune. I am the lord mightiest, most humbly god’s servant Lee Durgens king of Capsin.” He turned, raising his nose in the air. “Off with his head.”

Everyone cheered again.

“King Lee Durgens,” Lee said again. “Kinda rolls off the tongue.”

More cheering. Lee Raised his fist in the air and more fire erupted from the stage.

“Pssh,” Frankie made a noise, a disbelieving grin on her face. Cupping her hands to her mouth she yelled “You’re so dreamy!”

“Who said that?” Lee asked from the stage, looking around into the audience. With the way the lights were set up, there was no way he could see anything.

Still Edward grabbed Frankie roughly. “What are you doing?” he hissed.

“Please,” Frankie waved Ed off. “He’s such a rube.”

“Now,” Lee said out to the audience. “You guys honor me. So many members in one place. A meeting like this hasn’t been attempted in decades, longer than I’ve ever even been leader of this guild.”

“Longer than you’ve even been alive!” Frankie yelled from the crowd and Edward put his hand over Frankie’s mouth.

“Stop it!” Edward hissed.

“Seriously,” Lee said, looking into the crowd. “Is that a girl? Would someone take care of-- Where’s Bart? He was supposed to be up here as my right hand man.”

His sister joined him on stage whispering something in his ear. She then handed him a mug. “Thank you,” he replied to her. “I am thirsty. Have you seen Bart? No? You try not to. That’s no help to me at all.” August looked like she could use some water herself, soaked in sweat as her brow appeared to be.

“My sister everybody,” Lee said to the crowd. “Isn’t she hot? I bet anyone ah you guys would give anything to sleep with her. Oh look she’s not leaving the stage. Hey there honey.” Most of the people in the crowd knew better than to cheer at that.

“Alright look. I brought you here for a reason, and it’s not the chili. Though great chili there, Richter. Good stuff.” He pointed Richter out in the crowd, and Richter gave Lee a forced smile. “You give and you give to the guild, and you’re only gonna have to keep giving…” Lee trailed off as it seemed he wasn’t going in the direction he’d intended. Richter’s smile faded.

“The Thieves Guild is under attack,” Lee said to the crowd, his expression getting serious. “Someone has stolen from us, the thieves. The ultimate insult to us.”

“Say it isn’t so!” Frankie yelled from the audience, though in the deepest voice she could. Edward didn’t even try to stop her this time, instead stepping on the other side of Aldonn so as not to be associated.

Lee took a gulp of the water August had handed him, then threw the rest at the audience and cast the mug aside. “It’s so,” Lee said. “They took a most valuable amulet, the very shape that embodies our crest. We’re gonna take it back, wage a glorious war upon the Mage council like they’ve never seen, and we’re gonna make the mages pay for it.”

“The Mage Council has unimaginable powers,” someone in the crowd said. For once the heckler wasn’t Frankie. It was the man Frankie had earlier pointed out to be a foreign representative. “Why would we want to incur their wrath? The Mage Council doesn’t even have a branch in Tessauren.”

Lee crossed his arms. “And why would they want your vampire infested city?” he asked the man with a sneer. “Your branch holds about as much power on that city as the mages do.” The representative in green seemed furious, but if he wanted to storm out it was an impulse well managed.

“The mages hold power here,” Lee said pointing above him. Fire went off and he quickly lowered his finger. “From the capitol they can impact anywhere in the world they wish. They conduct their business in the bright of day, while we have to hide in the shadows.”

“If we can stop the Mage Council here and now,” Lee continued to preach to his men. “If we can wrestle away their stranglehold on this city, then we’ll be the ultimate authority. Then people will be ready to call me King Lee.”

“And then all of you would be able to walk out into the light of day as my knights.” Suddenly the crowd erupted in cheers again, though Aldonn saw why Frankie called him a rube. It was all about getting him power. He didn’t care about his guild at all.

“The Thieves Guild will have its glory renewed,” Lee yelled at his crowd that had quickly turned back to his side. “Like the days of old.”

“I’ve been doing research into the days of old,” Lee told the crowd, reaching for something behind the Drum kit. “Back when meetings like this were common place and the guild was often making plays for power against rival factions. Before we hid away in the sewers.”

Lee produced a golden goblet and raised it high for the crowd to see. “Before going to war, the guild would all make an offering to the war god Kaliki. An offering of blood.” Suddenly the crowd was silent again. “Every member would cut their hand and bleed into this cup until it ran full with their blood. Kaliki would then grant their guild a blessing guaranteeing victory against their enemies.”

Frankie crossed her arms. “I don’t know much about the gods,” she told Aldonn, “But I’m pretty sure that’s not how religion works.”

“It’s okay,” Lee addressed the crowd that had turned quite pale, even in abstract lighting. “I have a better idea. Kaliki doesn’t care how we fill up this cup, and what better way than with the blood of a traitor. Lucky for us we have one with us tonight.”

Edward grabbed Aldonn’s hand suddenly, and the tall blonde haired man looked down.

“They know we’re here,” Edward panicked to Aldonn.

“Relax,” Aldonn told Edward.

Edward rolled his eyes. “Not you too.”

“Sean Meunier,” Lee said another guildmember’s name loudly. “Cody,” he said. “Would you do me the honours.” It seemed he’d already discussed his intentions with the lowly guildmember Aldonn had met on the bridge with a scarred face. Cody grabbed the large bodied guildmate Lee had called out, dragging Sean towards the front of the audience.

“No!” Screamed someone by the food table, he was trying to get through but two of Bart’s armed men grabbed him.

“Damn,” Frankie said beside Aldonn. “Apparently I missed a couple important ones.” A blade appeared in her right hand.

“I’d be careful Richter,” Lee said in warning. “Unless you want to be next.”

August stepped forward. “Are you sure now is the best time to be burying our gays?” she asked, “Just before a war? When we’ll need all the numbers we can get?”

Lee closed his eyes. “It was supposed to be Bart on this stage with me,” he muttered in what seemed like mild annoyance. “Cody. Is it not true you told me that Sean had Frankie dead in his sights, and he didn’t take the shot?”

“He had a guaranteed killshot,” Cody agreed with the guild leader. “But next thing I know she’s showing up again on the bridge with her buddy. I tell you, he’s a damned traitor.”

“Seems good enough evidence to me,” Lee told the crowd. He looked to August. “You were there. Would you care to offer a defense?”

“I had a chance to kill her as well,” August told Lee. “If you’re going to take anyone’s blood, you should start with mine.”

Lee frowned again, obviously wishing his sister hadn’t joined him on stage. “You followed protocol,” he reasoned away, “You disengaged when it was clear the princess was involved.”

“Don’t do this!” Richter called from across the main hall.

Lee shook his head, yelling into the crowd, “Would someone shut him up?”

Aldonn heard a thump as one of the guards holding Richter punched him in the gut.

“I’m gonna be back in a sec,” Frankie told Aldonn, sneaking off into the crowd.

“Sean might not have a second,” Aldonn said after her, though she was already gone. He was pretty sure she was sneaking off towards Richter, and sure enough he watched one guard drop out of sight to the other guard’s surprise.

Sean struggled against Cody, realizing quite suddenly that his life depended on it. Lee signaled for the other three remaining armed men to come to the stage and help Cody keep the large man steady.

“Spill his blood Cody,” Lee ordered. “Bart was going to do it but he’s gone off the grid.”

“We have to do something,” Aldonn told Edward, dropping back his hood.

Edward grabbed the larger man. “There’s nothing we can do,” Edward insisted. It wasn’t what Aldonn wanted to hear. There was always something he could do.

“Stop,” Aldonn yelled as Cody unsteadily leaned Sean over the goblet in Lee’s hands. Aldonn pushed through the crowds and hopped onto the stage with them. “The only blood getting spilled today will be yours.”

Lee was still holding the goblet, and looked Aldonn over with confusion. “Who in the hells are you?”

Both Edward and Richter pushed through the crowd to join Aldonn on the stage. A shadow leapt up in front of the three men, and Frankie threw off her cloak.

“They’re with me,” Frankie announced to Lee proudly. She stood on the stage in the center of the lights for everyone to see. There were mutterings throughout the audience. Some gasps.

“Frankie,” Lee snarled. “I had very much hoped you would show up tonight.”

With a nod from their leader, the three armed men Lee had called on stage all charged at Frankie. With twists of her wrists she had a dagger in each hand and she threw them effortlessly across the stage to drop two of them before they got close. By the time the third was close enough to use the sword he brandished in his hand, Frankie had two more daggers in hers.

Frankie blocked the sword with one dagger, sliding to the left nimbly on her feet and slashing the man across the stomach with her other blade. Spinning she brought the first blade into the side of his head and the man dropped.

“Oh yeah,” Frankie said, spinning her blades in her hands. “Mommy’s got her toy back.”

“The first person to bring Frankie down,” Lee yelled at the crowds of people watching frozen in place, “will get an instant promotion in the guild.”

Suddenly everyone burst into motion, charging the stage all at once. Aldonn and Edward charged the edge of the stage to hold them back as Frankie jumped into action at Cody, throwing a dagger to disarm him of his and then jumping into the air to take Cody down with a knee to the face. As she dropped, holding tight to his jacket, she smacked him in the side of his head to knock him out, rolling off him to fight two unarmed thieves charging up the stage at her.

A mass of thieves crashed into Aldonn and Edward, and it was all Aldonn could do to stand his ground. He punched at faces in the crowd, and pushed and shoved best he could, but the charging thieves just forced him back. Behind the mass charging the stage he could see people going off in search of more weapons. They wouldn’t be able to hold for long.

*

“Stay back here!” Andy yelled to Penelope as he worked with Mitchel to fight back the insanity. People were losing their minds, as loyalties were crossed. Those loyal to Richter were striking out at those loyal to Lee. Others who didn’t have any loyalties were just looking to find cover. And some people were so riled up they were ready to fight anyone in front of them.

“Stay with us Ma’am,” Mitchel told Penelope. “We’ll protect you.”

On the stage Penelope saw the large Sean Meunier embrace his lover while Edward and his new friends struggled against overwhelming odds. Sean released Richter and grabbed the large bass drum from the drum kit.

“Move aside guys,” he told Aldonn and Edward, and they stepped back as he bowled the drum down the center of the mass, causing thieves to scatter or get taken out.

One man charged up the stairs and Aldonn kicked him back down into a group of his buddies all scrambling to get their turn.

“They’re my friends,” Penelope told the two guys she’d gotten to know throughout the night. “I can’t leave them to get hurt.”

“Trust me,” Mitchel said, grabbing Penelope’s arm. “You don’t wanna get caught up in all that.”

*

Four unarmed thieves charged at Frankie and though the odds were against her, she restrained herself from pulling more daggers on them. It would be only too easy, but there was a part of her that didn’t want to kill her once guildmates. Any one of them could have been someone just like her, confused and looking for a home.

She jumped at the nearest man, punching him repeatedly as she climbed onto his torso and her weight stumbled him back into the second man. She stopped punching the first to begin punching the second, jumping from the first guy to the second as the first guy went down.

The second guy stumbled about, bringing her to the third guy who she managed to hook with her leg. Twisting with all her weight, she was able to flip both the second and third guys onto their backs, rolling back to her feet in an instant to collide with the fourth guy, hooking her leg between his and tripping him neatly to the ground. As he landed face first, she smacked the side of his head into the stage with her elbow.

Getting up, hardly even breathing heavy, Frankie spotted August heading for the edge of the stage towards the rickety stairs leading up into the senior lounge. “I don’t think so,” Frankie said, throwing a dagger to collide with the curtains of the stage near August’s head. Frankie knew what was up there. Her spear.

August gave Frankie a look that could kill, grabbing the dagger from the curtains and pulling it free. “You’ll know pain,” she muttered in the shrill voice of a crazy person.

“Honey,” Frankie said. “I’ve known pain.”

Before August could get to her, two other guild members made it past the fighting barricade of Aldonn, Edward, Richter, and Sean. They seemed young, and one reached for one of the weapons strewn on the stage.

“I wouldn’t,” Frankie warned him, and the boy dropped the sword he was about to pick up. She blocked a punch with her forearm from the guy still standing, and punched him across the face, spinning to back hand him with her defensive forearm. He dropped fast, and grabbing the second guy by the head, she kicked him lightly and he did a wild flop onto the stage.

“Okay don’t milk it,” Frankie told him, as he pretended to close his eyes and be out.

August jumped over the latest man’s strewn form to bring her dagger down on Frankie. “You’ll know pain like I’ve known pain!” she screamed at Frankie as she came down.

 In an instant of perfect reflexes, Frankie had two more dagger in her hands and she brought them both up to block August’s attack.

She took steps back as August pressed forward swinging with her dagger so fast it was as if SHE was duel wielding and Frankie was the one with only one blade. Frankie blocked high, then low, both women swinging their blades wildly as the metal clanged off metal.

Frankie tried to remember every lesson she’d ever learned as she went from fighting form to fighting form, trying to match August as she spun around in her dance of death. Catching her blade with one dagger, finally Frankie was able to bring her other dagger down and slice August wrist before she could recede. August dropped her weapon and pulled back.

“Aaah,” August groaned, licking at her wrist. “More.”

“The fak?” Frankie said in surprise, finding herself face to face with a whole new level of crazy. August did a cartwheel past Frankie and grabbed drumsticks from the now torn apart drumkit. Frankie moved to follow after her, and dodged under her first swing, kicking the snare drum into her torso to slow her down.

Continuing with her momentum, Frankie slid past August, blocking attack after attack over her head as she went. Frankie spun back to her feet slashing out at August. Dagger met drumstick as the two waged off. August kicked Frankie into the back wall of the stage and struck her across the face with one drumstick. As she brought the other stick down, Frankie was able to bring her dagger up to block and it cut clear through the wood of August’s weapon.

August took what remained of her broken stick and jammed the pointed end into Frankie’s shoulder.

“Agh,” Frankie screamed as pain shot down her arm. August didn’t relent, however, smacking Frankie across the face to careen into the drummer’s stool.

Frankie placed a foot on the stool and jumped as hard as she could towards the wall, planting her other foot on the wall and doing a summersault over August’s head. Her lungs burned, and her torn shoulder muscles screamed in agony as she twisted herself in the air. It was going to be the last flourish she had in her, but she couldn’t be trapped in that corner any more.

As she landed, August had already turned around, kicking out against Frankie’s chest to send her barreling across the stage, rolling and careening off the edge of the stage into the crowd.

Frankie got up slowly, cradling her wounded arm, and pulling out the broken drumstick. Thankfully it hadn’t gotten too deep, but it still hurt like hell. She threw her drumstick at the nearest advancing thief, but there were so many all around her. A club came in, and she blocked it with her forearm, but another club smacked her across the side of her head so hard she tasted blood.

As she dropped, beatings came in from every side. She felt her ribs break. Felt August step on her hand and break at least two of her fingers. Pain was the last thing Frankie knew as she began to pass out.

“Oh no,” a voice said in Frankie’s ear. “You don’t get to check out so fast.” Suddenly the beating stopped.

*

Aldonn could see Frankie beaten into submission by August, even as he held a man for Edward to punch unconscious. August seemed to whisper something to Aldonn’s friend, and then lifted her up by the neck as if to display for everyone to see her beaten.

“We have to help Frankie,” Aldonn told Edward.

The ex-soldier looked across the main hall and frowned. “You sure we HAVE to?”

“I wouldn’t worry about her,” Lee told the two men, stepping between them and Frankie. “I imagine she is the one who should be worried about you.” He seemed to be unarmed.

“You think we can handle this bozo?” Edward asked, balling his hands into fists.

“Absolutely,” Aldonn told his friend.

“Okay,” Edward said. “We hit him from either side. You go high, I go low. Then we swap.” Aldonn wasn’t sure he understood, but he nodded that he would try his best. “He can’t defend from every direction at once.”

Lee was just smiling an annoyingly confident smile behind his shades. “Do you guys always spend this much time planning before a fight?”

“Go!” Edward yelled and they charged him, Aldonn punching at Lee’s face. Lee hooked Aldonn’s arm easily, stepping over Edward’s attempt to trip him and kicking Edward backwards into the remains of the drumkit. Getting to his knees, Lee was able to use Aldonn’s weight to flip the larger man over his back to lie flat on the stage. He rolled with Aldonn, smacking the large man in the face and rolling past him to swing his leg up and catch Edward in the balls.

Lee got to his feet and gave the two men time to do the same. Aldonn was starting to really despise this man as much as Frankie.

“Alright,” Edward said in obvious pain. “Swap.” They went at him again, this time Edward picking up a guitar from the stage and swinging it at Lee’s chest. Lee caught the guitar as Aldonn knelt low to charge into the guildleader’s legs. Lee smashed the guitar over Aldonn’s head, and then while he was unsteady, Lee swung Aldonn around and threw him into Edward.

Again Lee stepped back to give them time to recover.

“Okay,” Edward said, grabbing a sword from the ground. “Lets just improvise.”

They came at him again. Edward reaching him first, swinging his sword as hard as he can to take out Lee’s shoulder. Lee side stepped the swing easily, grabbing Edward’s hand and easily depriving him of his blade.

“Stop giving him weapons!” Aldonn complained as Lee swung the sword at him. He dodged back to avoid the sword and Edward punched Lee in the face.

The man turned, and Edward raised his arms to defend himself, but Lee kicked him so hard that he fell back and through a piano, the large instrument crumbling around him.

Moving in on Lee, Aldonn only hoped to get the guildleader before he hurt Edward any more. Lee side stepped Aldonn without even looking, however, and sliced his sword clear across the tall man’s throat.

“No!” Aldonn heard Frankie’s voice from the audience, and he felt the viscous flowing of his blood run down his shirt as he dropped in shocked silence to his knees.

Out of seeming thin air, Lee was holding the goblet from earlier, and he placed it beneath Aldonn, leaning the large man over the cup. Aldonn could see into the crowd everyone watching him even as he could feel his life slipping away. People’s lips were moving but he couldn’t hear sounds. He tried to move his own lips, tell Frankie to run. His last thought before everything went black was that there might still be hope for Frankie to get out of this.

*

Penelope saw Lee slit Aldonn’s throat, and would have screamed out if Andy hadn’t encouragingly touched her hand.

“That was your friend?” he asked. “Hey, there’s nothing you could have done.”

Penelope opened her mouth to protest but she was at a loss for words. In the crowd, August finally allowed Frankie to pass out, and the vile woman carried her limp form to the stage.

“I want her. “August said to Lee. “I promise I’ll kill her. Eventually.”

“She’s all yours,” Lee told August, waving her away.  A group of thieves brought the limp forms of Richter and Sean to Lee’s attention. “Take them down to the drug dens,” he told them. “Donald will know what to do with them.”

He pointed to Edward’s unconscious form in the piano. “Take that one as well.” Lee glanced down at the goblet, happy to see that it was overflowing. He tossed Aldonn’s still bleeding form aside. “Someone clean up this mess,” he said, scanning the crowd. Finally he spotted someone in the back. “Michael. You do it.”

“It’s Mitchel,” said a voice beside Penelope.

*     *

When Frankie came to, she found herself in August’s quarters, the inside of which she’d only ever glimpsed through the door. August had her hanging from the ceiling by her wrists, bound by rope. Also she was naked.

“I can’t believe we let you near children,” Frankie muttered groggily, her head rolling along her neck. August was watching her from the bed in nothing but a robe, crouched like a predator watching prey. She had insane eyes, and strewn on the bed beside her were a number of used needles.

“So it’s drugs now,” Frankie said to August, happy to still be talking. Her whole body hurt from the beating she’d endured in the main hall, and all she had to do was look down to see the maze of bruises along her pale skin. It seemed August had cleaned up all the blood. Frankie also spotted her jacket hung in the corner.

“You sewed it,” Frankie said in surprise. “Thank you.”

“Not for you,” August said, sweat dripping down her brow. “It’s my jacket now.”

“Okay well that’s not going to happen,” Frankie tried to say. August grabbed a dagger from the bed, and Frankie recognized it as one of hers.

“You’re not getting out of here Frankie,” August said in a scary tone. “My brother wants you dead.”

“Surely we can talk about this,” Frankie said, and to her surprise August leaned in to kiss her. “The fak?” Frankie asked as they parted lips.

“Here’s how this is going to go,” August said unsteadily, and from the way her pupils were dilating Frankie was pretty sure she had just shot up. “First I’m going to torture you, then I’m going to fak you, and when you can’t take anymore of either I’m going to kill you.”

“Okay,” Frankie said, fully believing August. “Well I don’t want the first thing. I’m pretty sure I don’t want the second thing. And I definitely don’t want the third thing.” Frankie struggled against her bonds, but the more she struggled the more her broken fingers hurt.

“August,” Frankie pleaded. “This isn’t like you. You hate what Lee does just as much as I do.”

August slid her dagger across Frankie’s arm, lightly cutting her skin so a small thin drizzle of blood slowly seeped across Frankie’s hairy armpit.

“Ow.” Frankie said loudly.

“Just light cuts,” August said, biting her lip in seeming joy at Frankie’s outburst. “But the cuts will get deeper if you keep begging for your life. It’s just sad.”

“I’m not begging for my life,” Frankie insisted. “Ow,” she said as August cut her again. “I’m trying to reason with you. Lee’s gone mad. He’ll do anything for power. Prostitution. Drugs. You used to care about that stuff. Does it all mean nothing to you now?”

“The worlds a horrible place,” August told Frankie, a dead look in her eyes. “Let me show you what I mean.” She slashed the dagger just under Frankie’s breast, this time feeling it go deeper than before.

“Gah,” Frankie complained, straining at the ropes as her subconscious instinct was to grab at her open wound. August openly laughed, a cold light childish laugh, as Frankie squirmed in agony. “You’re a crazy fakking bitch, you know that?”

August dropped her robe and pressed her naked body against Frankie’s as Frankie was powerless to resist. August kissed her, snaking her tongue into Frankie’s mouth as she sliced her dagger across both their ribs in one motion.

“Aaagh,” Frankie cried, leaning away from August as a tear rolled down her cheek. “I don’t understand. Is this the torture or the fakking? Cause it kinda sorta feels like both, but also like neither at the same time.”

August wouldn’t let Frankie get away, licking at her neck. “There’s a thin line between pain and pleasure,” August said, almost hissing like a snake. “Don’t you think?”

“No!”

*

Penelope was tired of watching the guys clean up. “You have to help me get to the drug den,” she told them, hoping to god she wouldn’t be too late.

Andy threw a piece of broken piano in a garbage bag and shrugged at Penelope. “You heard the boss. We have our orders.”

Penelope clutched the cloak close to herself. “But he’s like the closest thing I have to a friend. I have to do something.” She knew Christopherson had warned her not to get into a fight, but she didn’t see what choice she had. “If you don’t help me, I’m going to have to go on my own.”

Mitchel looked down at the large blonde haired body lying in a pool of blood he seemed reticent to move. “Alright,” he said, dusting off his hands. “We’ll help you.”

“Really?” Penelope asked in surprise.

Andy nodded his agreement. “Thieves don’t abandon their own.”

“Take me to the drug dens,” Penelope ordered her loyal boys. “Wait, no. The armoury first. Then the drug dens.”

*

Frankie could feel August inside her, multiple fingers deep, moving around. Frankie let out another cry as August cut her again with her free hand on the dagger. There were cuts all over her body now, more than Frankie could count. And for a while she’d tried to, anything to take her mind off the pain.

“Please,” Frankie said. “I beg of you to stop.”

August cut her lightly across the throat, and for a moment Frankie thought that was going to be the end. It took seconds for her to realize she wasn’t bleeding out yet, and Frankie breathed heavily through her nose against the pain.

“I told you no begging,” August warned, digging her fingers in deeper.

“Oh.” Frankie tilted her head forward in an attempt to put pressure on her neck, and tried desperately not to think about August fingers against her g-spot. “Sweet gods,” she muttered.

August traced her blade up Frankie’s bare skin, toying with her nipple and then licking at the wound on her neck.

“You’re so beautiful,” August told her, and she touched a scar of her own on her neck, one of many she had throughout her body. “And now we match.”

“Not quite yet,” Frankie whispered, quiet enough for August to lean closer.

Frankie headbutted August as hard as she could. “You missed a spot,” Frankie said groggily, the blow almost enough to knock her unconscious. She had no clue how effective it had been against August.

August let out a scream that sounded almost more one of someone in the throes of loving passion than anger. “So you still have fight in you?” She snarled, cutting Frankie free from the ceiling. Her hands were still bound together. “Come on.”

Frankie couldn’t believe her. “You asked for it bitch,” Frankie said. She charged at August, looking to body check her, but she side stepped and threw Frankie effortlessly onto the bed.

“Yes!” August yelled, jumping on top of Frankie and grinding her naked body against her. “Give it to me.” Her fingers were inside her again.

“I thought we were supposed to be fighting,” Frankie moaned.

“Alright,” August said stabbing her dagger into Frankie’s gut.

Frankie’s mouth opened but only “ulp” came out.

“Shh,” August said, and she brought a finger to Frankie’s lips. “Just let it happen.” August kissed Frankie passionately, and Frankie was too weak to resist. As August pulled away Frankie’s blood was all around her mouth. In fact she was covered in Frankie’s blood, Frankie too. Her entire body was screaming in agony, desperate for August to remove the blade from her stomach.

“I’ve always wanted you,” August whispered to Frankie, and she thought Lee’s sister had an odd way of showing it. “From the moment I laid my eyes upon you I thought you were the most beautiful thing I’d ever seen.” August kissed her again. “I imagined then exactly how I’d kill you. And it was just like this. Covered in your blood, bringing a blade across your stomach to spill your guts all over the floor.”

“You have some really sick fantasies,” Frankie forced the words out. Even in death she had to get the last word.

“When I saw the anguish you felt as you had to watch your friend die before you, I don’t think I’ve ever orgasmed that hard in my life.”

August’s fingers slid into her pussy once more, and Frankie bit her lip, her entire body screaming out for relief.

“I’ll think of you,” August cooed in her ear as her fingernails dug deeper and more viciously. “Every time I kill someone with your daggers I’ll think back to this perfect night we shared together.”

“But,” Frankie muttered, drawing all the strength she had left in her. “I don’t consent!” She threw August off her and tried to straighten. August bounced back and slapped Frankie so hard she fell off the bed and rolled hard. The dagger dug deeper into her gut and she grabbed at it futilely.

“Frankie,” August said from the bed, getting up in just such a way so the tangled covers slid off her. “I love you.”

“Sorry toots,” Frankie said, painfully pulling the dagger from her gut as August stumbled forward. “I don’t date crazy.” She dropped low under August’s swinging arms and stabbed the sadistic woman’s foot to the floor. Frankie grabbed her stomach in agony as she straightened and backed away from August.

August’s scream in pain turned into one of laughter as she grabbed at the dagger. Instead of pulling it out, she only twisted it deeper.

“Gods,” Frankie muttered. “What are you on?” She grabbed her jacket and threw it over her shoulders.

“Just kill me,” August begged Frankie. “You saw what I did. No one else knows like you do.”

“Are we talking about that kid?” Frankie asked, and August started to cry. “Bitch, that wasn’t your fault.”

“I DID IT,” she screamed, spitting at Frankie in a state of hysteria. “I KILLED HIM! I’M A KILLER!” she strained against the dagger keeping her in place, the wound already bleeding profusely as the blade tore through her muscles. “I’m a child killer.”

Frankie couldn’t find her pants, but stole an expensive looking pair of leather ones from August’s drawers. She slid the pants tenderly over her legs, each cut stinging as pressure was applied. “You need help,” she told August. “You need to find yourself some serious and professional help, and you have to go like everyday, and start like a program or something.”

“KILL ME!” August screamed insistently.

“I’m not going to kill you,” Frankie told August. “As fakked up as you might be, I also think you’re the only hope this guild has of ever cleaning up their act.” She turned to leave. “So get over yourself already.”

“Wait,” August called after her. “Even at full strength you’d never make it out of here. With a wound like that you won’t even make it down the hall.”

Frankie looked back at August. “The last person who underestimated me,” she warned coyly, “got her foot stabbed to the floor.”

*

“Okay,” Penelope said, putting down the small sword. “What is this one called?”

“A long sword,” Mitchel told her, grabbing a club from a chest. He threw one to Andy.

“That makes sense,” Penelope said, putting the longer sword down on top of the smaller one. She spotted two sticks on a pedestal by themselves. “What about these?” she asked, taking them off their stand. Surely she had no chance of poking her eyes out with those.

“They’re called kusarigama,” Andy told Penelope, as the two drew in closer to her. “It’s said to master that weapon someone must train from birth.”

Penelope looked up at him with a raised eyebrow.

“It’s a weapon from a time when druids still had cities beyond the forest,” Andy explained to her. “Everything had crazy legends like that back then.”

Penelope twisted something in the handle and a large blade extended from one of the sticks. They were sickles. She turned the handle back to retract the blade. They would have to do.

“Where’s the drug den?” she asked Andy. Mitchel signalled for her to follow him and she did, the three of them crossing down the hall and turning a corner.

“It’s that room there,” Mitchel said, pointing her to a door across from them. She could hear someone’s deep voice from inside.

“I wonder if you can take one more, soldier boy,” The voice said and Penelope’s grip tightened on her weapon. The thought of them doing unspeakable things to Edward made her want to do unspeakable things to them.

“Stop it,” Richter’s voice said from inside. “He’s going to overdose.”

“Good,” the deep voice said. “And then you’ll be next.” She peered inside. There was a large man, the one with the deep voice, and he had the three prisoners tied up. There were two more guards on his flank, all sporting clubs of their own, and the large man was about to inject some drug into Edward’s neck.

“No,” Penelope said, and she busted through the open door into the drug den. “Take your hands off him,” she said loudly so everyone in the room would turn their attention towards her. “The prisoners are coming with me.” She shrugged off her cloak so they could see who she really was.

The large man stepped away from Edward, his prisoner largely forgotten. “You’re a little out of your element, princess.”

“Do as she says,” Andy said confidently as he and Mitchel took her sides. “She’s one of us, Drumpf.”

“One of you?” Drumpf asked in surprise. “What are you doing, Matthew? Don’t you know who she is?”

“Uh uh,” Penelope said, raising one of the sticks in her right hand and pointing it the large man. “His name is Mitchel.”

The boys at her side screamed war cries and charged into the room, engaging the two guards as Penelope jumped onto the drug sorting table and twisted the handle on her weapon. She’d slipped the other in her belt, certain she’d have enough trouble with one. Sure enough, instead of the blade extending, the entire stick seemed to break in half. Half the stick was left dangling from her handle by a chain, and suddenly she thought she finally understood her weapon.

Swinging the chain over her head she swung it through the air a couple times in lazy circles to pick up momentum. Across the long table the large man scrambled to join her, and she struck out with her weapon, striking him hard across the head and knocking him unconscious in one blow.

“I did it!” Penelope cheered in success as the weapon she was swinging swung back for her hand. Penelope didn’t catch it and it struck her in the nose. “Awww. I’m okay.”

Mitchel made short work of his man, but Andy seemed to be having trouble with his. Penelope flung her weapon at the guard and caught the man’s arm in her chain. Pulling hard, she yanked the man onto the table and gave Andy a chance to finish him off.

Twisting the handle again, the chain receded back into the handle, and she pocketed her weapon to run to Edward.

“Are you okay?” she asked, his brow drenched in sweat. “Does he have some kind of fever.”

“He was injected with a very addictive drug,” Richter told her from where he was tied up beside Edward. “It induces intense pain throughout his whole body. They gave him two doses. He isn’t going to be lucid for a while.”

Edward opened his eyes, and smiled widely at seeing Penelope. “Princess,” he said warmly. “You came all this way into hell just to save me.” His head lolled to the side as she pulled out one of her sickles and cut him loose. She looked to do the same for Richter, but he already had his hands loose.

“Don’t worry about it,” he told her, getting up and undoing Sean’s bindings.

“He keeps showing me how to do that,” Sean said to Penelope with a roll of his eyes. “But it never seems to stick.”

“Are we going back to your castle now?” Edward asked Penelope, falling off the chair into her arms.

“No,” Penelope said with a laugh. “You got fired, remember?”

“I don’t wanna remember that,” Edward muttered with a frown.

“Yeah well that doesn’t mean it didn’t still happen,” Penelope told him. He reached for a syringe on the table and she pulled him away from it. “Oh no. You’ve had quite enough of that gunk. Lets go.”

Richter nodded to her two loyal friends. “Andy. Mitchel. Thanks for the assist.” He grabbed the large man’s head, the one Penelope had knocked unconscious and twisted it until his neck snapped. Mitchel and Andy took that cue, killing their own men violently with their clubs.

“Hey!” Penelope complained, the blood making her sick to her stomach.

Richter grabbed her finger as she raised it to complain further. “They were the only witnesses to Andy and Mitchel’s betrayal,” he explained to her. “Those men need to die so that your friends can stay and live. They’ll lead everyone away from us so that we can make our escape.”

Andy nodded his agreement.

“But I’m not a killer,” Penelope muttered.

“No,” Richter agreed. “You’re not. But you came here for a reason. And now you have two men on the inside. Let’s get out of here while we can still call this a win.

“To your castle!” Edward exclaimed surprisingly cheerfully as Penelope got under his arm to support his weight.

“No.”

*

Frankie crept noiselessly through the hallways, passing by the barracks now full of guild members bickering and spreading rumours. She knew that if she just headed straight, she’d get to one of their side exits and freedom would be hers. But if she took the turn there, she’d make her way to the main hall.

She took the turn, and found her face to face with Cody passing a smoke between three guys. Cody dropped the smoke.

“Okay,” Frankie said, dropping daggers into her hands. Her broken fingers hurt, but most of them curled successfully around the handles as she planted her feet. “I’m willing to take you all on, but can we do this quietly? I don’t wanna attract any more attention.”

She threw two of her daggers, taking two of the men with Cody out by the throats. She jumped at the third one, kneeing him in the throat and tackling him to the ground. She chopped him on either side of his head, and twisted in time to see Cody tackle into her and knock her into a knife throwing training room. About ten men were there, practicing their throws. And they were all armed, looking around the room for the source of the clatter.

Frankie struggled away from Cody, grasping at her gut as it bled openly under her leather jacket. Multiple drops landed on the ground as Cody got up as well.

“You’re hurt,” Cody said, a little too happy at the prospect. Frankie looked around the room at the ten men watching them.

“Anyone who doesn’t wanna die,” she said, letting go of her gut to drop two more daggers into her hands. “Get the fak out now.”

One person in the back of the room left through a side entrance. Cody pulled a sword from his waist.

He swung the sword down at her, and she blocked it with her right, her knife held in a reverse grip. As the hit impacted down her side, just blocking his attack brought enough pain to her gut to make her have to put pressure on it with her left hand. He swung at her again, and she rolled over a table lined with knives as a couple of men nearby threw knives at her. They just barely missed as she landed inside the range, but one came close to striking Cody.

“Watch it!” he yelled at the man who threw it.

Frankie ran across the range, throwing knives as she went and taking out two people. They were throwing knives back, and she tried to zig zag. She got to the first round wooden target and grabbed it, throwing it up as a shield for the daggers to impact against. She then threw it at one of her attackers, striking him across the head and throwing out more knives. At least half the people in that knife range had been cut down.

But now Cody was on her again, having chased after her into the range. She blocked his sword with another wooden target as an impromptu shield and dropped a dagger into her spare hand. She swung it at him, but he was able to bring his sword up to block it. She then bashed him with her shield.

“You can’t expect to get out of this,” Cody said menacingly. “I know your weakness.” He swung his sword directly into her shield, and then as she drew him in close he dug his fist into her gut.

“Ah!” she screamed, stumbling back and dropping her dagger. Her leg gave way to the pain and she fell into the third target.

“You’ve got it wrong,” Frankie said, grabbing the third target so as to have a shield in both hands. She blocked Cody’s first attack with one shield, and then his second attack with the other. Getting to her feet she bashed him with her right shield, blocked a swing from him with the left, then bashed him with that same left across the head.

He dropped down to his knees and she hit him with both shields at once, knocking him out. Dropping the shields momentarily, she threw two daggers to impact two more men across the range from her, then raised her shields to block the remaining daggers being aimed at her head.

Running forward with both shields held high, she dived over the table where the few remaining men were depleting their supply of throwing knives. She tackled into one of the three remaining men, and then threw her shields in either direction taking out the two on either side.

She grabbed her gut as the room was silent around her. Getting up, her vision swooned and her head felt light as if she was going to faint.

“I can do this,” she said to herself, pushing herself forward. She left the throwing range and stumbled down the corridor into the main hall.

“Aldonn,” she called across to his form lying still on the stage. “I’m here big guy,” she called to him, stumbling up onto the stage and dropping to her knees in the pool of his blood that had gathered around him. “It’s going to be all right.”

She grabbed at his form and hugged him tight to her, rocking him gently.

She saw his chest move.

Pulling a match from the pocket of her jacket, she lit it and pressed it close to Aldonn’s mouth and nose. Sure enough, the flame danced on the head of the match.

“I knew it,” she cried out loud to no one. “I knew it. I knew it.”

“Frankie!” the princess Penelope called from across the main hall where she was supporting Edward with Sean’s help.

Richter jogged the length of the hall to join her. “I’m pretty sure he’s dead mate.” He told her.

“He’s not,” Frankie argued. “He’s breathing. I swear. Please, just help me carry him.”

“Frankie.” Richter sighed. “His throat was slit. You saw him bleed out.” Frankie showed Richter Aldonn’s neck, where the cut was already sealing up.

“He’s a fast healer,” Frankie insisted. “PLEASE.”

“Alright,” Richter said, getting under one of Aldonn’s arms. “You get the other one.”

Together they managed to pull Aldonn from the stage, and they joined up with Penelope.

“What happened to your shirt?” Edward asked, reaching to open Frankie’s jacket. She slapped him away.

“What’s wrong with him?” Frankie asked the princess, not even bothering to inquire how she’d gotten there.

“They injected him with drugs,” Penelope explained to her.

“So he gets high” Frankie complained, “While I’m torture/raped by a crazy bitch? Where’s the justice in that?”

*     *     *

There was a knock on Janice’s door, even though it was the one night a week her pub closed for cleaning. Frowning, she straightened up from scrubbing at a table and called out into the dark.

“Who is it?”

There was another knocking. She frowned, but went to the door. “Can’t you read the sign?” she called through the door, undoing the latch and opening it to chastise them face to face. “We’re closed.”

It was Frankie, standing in Janice’s doorway clutching her bleeding side, a number of her friends at her back. They all looked like they’d had the worst night of their lives.

“Help me,” Frankie said, collapsing forward into her arms.

“What happened?” Janice asked the group as they tried to shuffle inside.

“The Thieves Guild is going to war with the Mage Council,” Edward told Janice as he passed, looking like he was drunk again. “And we’re the only ones that can save them.”

He then promptly threw up on her entrance mat.

*     *     *

“Manejo,” Salem’s voice boomed across the Mage Council chambers. “You’ve come to address the Council.”

“As I was ordered,” Manejo said coldly, “Grand Mage Salem.” The only light in the entire chambers were two large torches that stood on either side of Salem’s extravagant chair. Other chairs were spread out in a circle around Manejo, each sitting a robed and hooded figure hidden by shadow. They were all the highest ranking mages in the Mage Council.

“I come to understand you brought the king into our tower yesterday,” Salem’s voice boomed across the chambers. Of course he knew. Nothing happened in that tower Salem wasn’t aware of. At least that was what Manejo had come to expect.

“It seems the more King George sees of magic,” Manejoa explained, “the more he comes to trust and rely on me. He’s starting to see me as an invaluable tool to use at his whim.”

“Meanwhile he’ll be our tool to use at ours,” Salem finished Manejo’s thought.

“And what of the thieves guild?” a voice said in the darkness. “I’ve warned you already. They will be making a play against us.”

“The Thieves Guild are children, Elmeiser,” Salem argued the bodiless voice. “I manipulate them as I do everyone else in this city. As I got them to attack the castle on the night of my visit.” Salem danced his fingers along the flame of his right torch, making the flames twirl along with his motions. “They are of no concern of mine. Soon we will have ultimate power over the city, and then all of creation will tremble at the strength of our will.”

Manejo turned, taking that as his permission to leave. Exiting the chambers by one of its many doors, a robed mage from the council followed close behind him. The diminutive mage grabbed Manejo and led him through a mirror into a private room Manejo knew not where. The mage was Elmeiser.

“He’s wrong about the Thieves Guild,” Elmeiser rambled to Manejo as he often did, and scratched his short brown goatee. “And his error will cost him everything.”

“He’s foolish,” Manejo said, repeating Elmeiser’s old words back at him. “Too power hungry to care for anyone but himself.”

“But where he thinks he’ll gain his greatest asset,” Elmeiser said with a raise of his finger, “Your true loyalties will be to me. I’ll have the ultimate power, and then I’ll be Grand Mage.”

“And you’ll restore the balance between the guilds,” Manejo reminded Elmeiser, reciting the mage’s old teachings to him.

“Yes yes,” Elmeiser said to Manejo. “Of course.” He stepped through another mirror, and Manejo followed Elmeiser into his study where the older and much shorter mage searched his desk for something. “He thought the Thieves Guild were inconsequential, when in reality they had the final piece of the puzzle the whole time.”

*     *     *

“I told you you’d bring it,” the priest’s voice rang out from the darkness of the church.

“Yeah,” Lee said from behind his shades, carefully balancing the goblet in both hands so as not to spill any. “I suppose ya did.”

He past the pews of the church and stepped carefully up the steps onto the proscenium to place the goblet on the priest’s alter.

“I held up my end of the bargain,” he told the priest. “Now tell me who stole my amulet.”

The father of Kaliki stepped out from the shadows and reached for the goblet.

“Eh,” Lee said, raising a finger in warning. “If you spill any now, that’s on you.”

The priest lifted the goblet, and Lee followed him into a back room where the father of Kaliki poured the viscous liquid from the goblet into a large metal steel basin.

The blood swirled around as the priest swayed the basin back and forth.

“Now cut yourself,” the priest told Lee.

“What?” Lee asked, looking down into the basin. “Like you don’t got enough blood?”

“It must mix with your own,” the father told him. “While you think deeply about the item you have lost.”

Lee took the blade from the man. “Alright,” he said, drawing the blade across his palm and letting a drop of the blood fall into the basin.

As soon as the drop hit the rest of the blood, it seemed to animate and move. The blood splotches formed letters. And the letters formed a name.

Elmeiser.

“He’s dead,” Lee said, turning on his heels and storming from the room.

The priest stayed behind however. “Is it really?” the priest asked no one else in the room. “I’ll contain it immediately. Harness the power for your will, of course.”

He continued to listen to the air for a moment. “You’re absolutely right,” he agreed with no one. “We’ll have to get more.”

*     *     *

“Holly!” her father screamed her name as he stormed into the house. She got up from the dinner table where her and Leah were eating cereal for supper. She tried to run from the kitchen but her father managed to catch up with her, and lifted her high into the air to choke slam her into the cupboards.

“Stop it!” Leah yelled at him, getting up to pound on his legs with her little fists.

He ignored her, his anger focused solely on his daughter. “You’ve been talking behind my back haven’t you,” he growled angrily. “To your ol’ pal Frankie.”

“Yeah,” Holly managed to squeak from under his grip. “And she says if anything happens to me, she’ll kill you.”

Holly’s father dropped her, and she scurried away from him. “So come on,” she said confidently. “Hit me. Leave a mark, and let’s see what she does to you.”

Her father seemed to study her for many long slow moments before finally saying, “Get out of my sight.”

“Leah is staying overnight,” Holly said. It wasn’t a question.

“GO TO YOUR ROOM!” her father screamed, and the two girls scurried away. Holly could tell Leah was scared out of her wits. But Holly wasn’t afraid.

Everything would be different from now on.