Chapter 2: Bonds and Betrayal
The Fiend Moon Saga 1 - A Conspiracy of Light and Shadow
Irayna quickly checked Cole, pulling the soiled bandages from around his stomach and tossing them into a rubbish pile in the corner of the dimly lit room. She glanced over his naked body, pausing for a few heartbeats to admire what she'd accomplished. The skin of his belly was clean and pink, with no sign he'd ever been wounded—no scars, no lingering marks. He slept deeply now, his chest rising and falling in a peaceful rhythm. She covered him with a dirty sheet before going to the door.
She unlocked it and pulled it open. Dregster stood in the doorway, fist raised in preparation to knock. His face was contorted in rage, and three other gang members lurked behind him, their eyes darting suspiciously past her into the room.
"He's fine," she said, doing her best to convey an air of put-upon exasperation. "Cole's always up to his tricks, you know that. He wasn't injured at all. I should box his ears for wasting my time. I'll go take care of Jammer now."
Dregster pushed past her and stepped into the room cautiously. He looked around, eyes narrowed, before turning back to her.
"Who were you talking to?" he demanded.
"What are you talking about?" she asked, feigning innocence while her heart hammered in her chest.
"Heard you talking to someone."
"Oh, that. I was talking to Cole, of course. Who else would I be talking to?" She forced a light laugh.
"Cole?" Dregster's mouth twisted into a sneer. "I saw him myself. He was a goner." The man turned to the sleeping man on the bed and tore the blanket away. He stared at the young man's unblemished stomach in dumbfounded shock for a few heartbeats before turning a calculating gaze upon her. "How...?"
"Like I said. It was a trick," Irayna replied, her voice steadier than she felt. "I'm going to tend to Jammer now." She pushed past the gangsters who were huddled in the doorway and headed across the hallway to Jammer's room.
She entered and found the man lying on his cot with a silly grin plastered across his face. She closed the door behind her and went to his side.
"Fae dust?" she asked, noting his dilated pupils.
"Yesse..." he slurred, his glazed eyes falling from her face to appraise her body with unmasked hunger. "Hey, you look good, you know. I mean you're pretty and all. Maybe we could..."
She put her hand over his mouth, silencing him. The rest of what he was saying came out in muffled, unintelligible sounds. She tried to ignore the warm heat that had risen quickly to her face. Unbidden images from her books threatened to distract her, but she ruthlessly forced herself to focus on the task at hand. She felt vulnerable here now; she could still feel Cyan's palpable fear radiating through their bond, and it was unnerving her.
"Cole's fine," she said to distract Jammer from continuing his current train of thought. "He was tricking everyone."
"What...?" He jerked away from her in surprise and half sat up. Having accomplished her goal, she pushed him back down and began undoing the bloodied bandaging from around his arm.
"Bring me some hot water!" she yelled, knowing that someone was still lurking in the hallway near the closed door.
She unslung the satchel from her shoulder and began to rummage through its contents. There was a knock at the door, and Carrinda, one of the gang's few females, entered without waiting for an answer. She carried a large pot of steaming water, which she placed on the floor at Irayna's feet. The tall, buxom woman then took a step back and set her angry, red-rimmed eyes on Irayna, her fists clenched at her hips.
Carrinda had long blonde braided hair and a beautiful, oval face that was marred by a dark scar that ran from temple to parted lips. Irayna had treated that wound herself and was quite proud of her handiwork, considering the circumstances.
"What...?" Irayna asked, growing more nervous as the woman continued to stare at her with open hostility.
"Why ain't you make me new like you done fer Cole?" Carrinda demanded. "Boys sayin' I look too mean and ugly fer ridin' now. Them make me pay coin fer it now."
Irayna flushed with embarrassment as she deciphered the woman's meaning. Surely, she was misunderstanding. The scar did make Carrinda look tough and maybe a little intimidating, but ugly she was not. Irayna secretly wished her own breasts were as full as Carrinda's, and the woman's body was... perfect. The woman wasn't very bright though, and it was possible that the ruffians in the gang were taking advantage of that fact.
"Cole was joking, Carrinda," Irayna explained gently. "It was a trick. He wasn't really injured."
"I see how it is," Carrinda retorted with a stomp of her booted foot. She turned away from Irayna in a huff and headed for the door. Halfway out, she turned back and tossed a copper coin onto the bed. "Tell Jammer he owes me a ridin' when you's done fixin' im. Oh, and Bossman says to talk to im after."
Flustered, Irayna grabbed a clean towel from her bag and dipped it into the scalding water. Carrinda chortled loudly and closed the door behind her as she departed. Irayna began carefully washing the deep, ragged cut on Jammer's upper arm. She tried with little success not to picture him and Carrinda, or herself for that matter, engaged in intimate acts.
"This is very bad," Cyan whined, interrupting her thoughts. Irayna shot her bond-companion a glance and saw that the pixie was glowing a sickly yellow rather than her normal blue luminescence. "They don't believe you; they know you healed him somehow!"
"It'll be fine, Cyan," she said, turning her attention back to Jammer's wound. She removed a needle and thread from her bag and carefully began to stitch the gaping flesh. She was grateful the thief was high as a balloon; otherwise, he tended to be a baby about pain. "They already know there's something special about me, Cy. Why else would they make me an honorary member of the entire organization? I mean, I'm fair with the healing arts, but I'm not that good."
"That is a good question, Ray. I have wondered that very thing for almost two years now," Cyan replied, her tiny wings fluttering anxiously. "I have warned you about these people—they are up to nothing good."
"Of course they're up to nothing good, Cy. They're thieves, you know," Irayna replied matter-of-factly. "Personally, I think my father was a high-ranking member of the gang, and there was a secret pact to take care of me if something happened to him."
"Your father was no outlaw! He was—!" Cyan cried out indignantly. Her outburst died abruptly as she realized she'd gone too far. Irayna turned and stared hard at her, needle suspended mid-stitch.
"So, you do know about my parents," Irayna accused in a quiet, rage-filled voice. Cyan turned a sickly yellow and seemed to deflate before her eyes. Irayna turned back to her stitching, saying nothing for a few tense moments as she strained to contain her fury. "We can't talk here; I understand that, Cy. But later, we will find a place to talk, and you will tell me everything that you know."
Cyan didn't reply, and Irayna ignored her as she finished her work. Jammer had fallen into a dust-induced sleep and was quietly snoring. When she was done, she slipped out of the room and headed to the main chamber.
Most of the gang was gathered for a late breakfast, which consisted of hard bread and dubious rat stew that emitted a pungent aroma throughout the space. Irayna turned down a proffered bowl even though she was famished and headed straight for the central table where Bossman was holding court with his cronies.
The fat, bald man waved at a seat across the table from him and stuffed a chunk of bread the size of her fist into his mouth. Irayna sat down and waited patiently for him to stop chewing. She was still seething inside. It felt like the deepest betrayal to have her best friend, her bond-companion, withhold information about her family from her. The pixie was fully aware that her most coveted desire was to know who her parents were—to understand why they'd abandoned her to the streets.
"You aren't fooling anyone, you know," Bossman said through a mouthful of bread, crumbs catching in his unkempt beard. "Cole was a dead man. We all know it. Maybe a magus or a paladin could have saved him, but not an orphan girl apprenticed as a healer. No way."
Irayna shrugged, trying to project nonchalance despite the cold fear creeping up her spine.
"I did what you needed; can I have my payment now?"
Bossman regarded her thoughtfully for a few heartbeats, his hostile, red-rimmed eyes impossible for her to interpret. He smiled faintly, then dug into the folds of his filthy robe and withdrew a small pouch, which he tossed to her. She caught the bag and ignored the disapproving stare that Cyan directed at her from where she hovered.
"You look like you could use a hit now," Bossman said with a knowing grin.
The gang leader clapped his hands twice, and Odi materialized beside him with a glass board and small dust spoon, which he set down in front of Irayna before once again disappearing into the shadows. Irayna glared at Bossman for a heartbeat, then took up the dust spoon, scooped a small portion of the valuable white powder from the pouch he'd tossed to her, and placed it in a small pile in the center of the glass board.
With practiced movements, she cut the pile into two sections with the edge of the spoon and then flattened the piles with methodical precision. Finally, she set the spoon aside and sealed her left nostril with her left index finger, then leaned over one of the fae dust piles and inhaled deeply with her open nostril. When the pile was completely snorted up, she sat back in her chair, closed her eyes, and let the euphoria sweep over her.
The anger she'd been nursing against Cyan was overpowered by a feeling of carefree rapture that nothing could touch. All her troubles dissolved into nothingness. She felt so good, so alive, as the familiar warmth spread through her veins.
"So, is it a magical artifact?" Bossman asked, naked greed showing on his pudgy face.
Irayna ignored him. Instead, she leaned over and snorted up the second pile with desperate eagerness. She sat back again and stuffed the pouch with the remaining dust into her healer's satchel. She fixed her unfocused gaze back onto Bossman and smiled at him, her pupils like pinpricks.
"Odi promised me money too. Where is it?"
"Show me the artifact, and I'll give you the money," he countered, leaning forward.
"It's an artifact all right, but you wouldn't be able to see it," she said, taunting him with a wider smile. She glanced over at Cyan, pleased with her clever wit. "Now give me what you promised, or I'll see to it Fergus hears about this."
Bossman stared back at her, anger and something more dangerous flickering in his expression. Irayna was past caring. Fergus was one of the big people in the gang world; he was higher than Bossman, at least she thought so, despite having no true knowledge of the underworld's structure.
She imagined that Fergus and her father had been friends, and that Fergus had agreed to look after her if something happened to him while he was on some grand heist. Fergus was a mysterious benefactor in her life; she didn't know much about him, except that he'd guaranteed her safety in the Squalls and among the Moon-Touched gangs. Fergus was something of a legend on the streets, and he'd placed his mantle of protection over her.
"Fine," Bossman replied gruffly. He snapped his fat fingers, and Dregster appeared at his elbow. The man pulled a pouch off his belt and tossed it to her. She stared dumbly at the jingling purse as it sailed through the air and struck her in the face. Her reflexes were practically nonexistent under the influence of the dust. Luckily, she didn't feel pain either. She picked up the fallen purse and put it in her satchel, smiling the whole time, unaware that a bruise was already forming beneath her left eye.
"Okay, Ray, time to go."
Irayna turned and almost fell out of her chair before regaining her balance and focusing her attention on the person who had spoken to her. Only Cyan and one other person called her Ray. The young man was short of stature, but he had such lovely features. He was holding out his right hand to her, his eyes filled with concern.
"Cole," she gushed, growing hot all over. "I thought you were going to die, but you didn't. Don't tell anyone that I healed you, okay?"
"Time to go, Ray, come on." He took her hand, and she didn't resist him. She got to her feet, and he led her toward the hallway leading to the trapdoor that led outside. Before he could lead her into the hallway, she turned back to face the room. It took her unfocused vision a few heartbeats to find Bossman again; he was standing with Dregster at his side. The stares they leveled at her were cold and calculating.
"Bye, Bossman!" she screeched and waved wildly at him. Cole pulled her into the hallway and quickly helped her up the ladder and into the late morning brightness that made her wince and shield her eyes.
"I don't know how you did it, Ray, but the whole gang is talking," Cole said urgently, his voice low. "In an hour, rumors will be everywhere in the district. I don't think you should come back. Stay away from here. You can't trust Bossman anymore, whatever protection you had won't keep you safe now."
"What are you talking about?" Irayna asked in confusion. Cole was moving rapidly, practically dragging her through the busy lanes of the Squalls. "Of course I have to come back. You live here; I can't visit you unless I come here. And who is going to heal the gang? And what about my stuff... you know... THE STUFF... I have to come here to get it, you know."
Cole sighed heavily and came to a stop, his expression hardening.
"You are a stupid girl!" he yelled at her, his voice cutting through her dust-induced haze. "You are going to get yourself killed or worse—and trust me, there's a lot worse than death. I don't want to ever see you again. I don't care about you; I never did. I was just hoping for a tumble, is all, but there are real women in the Den. You're nothing special. Now get out of here!"
Irayna gaped at him for a heartbeat, then the dam burst as the euphoria that had filled her was replaced by absolute misery. She broke into sobs and turned away from him. He laughed at her, and her heart felt like it was shattering into a million shards. She started to run, barely aware of where she was going, pushing past merchants and beggars alike.
Cole watched her go, a sad expression replacing the cruel mask he'd worn moments before. Cyan hovered for a moment, watching the unseeing young man. She understood that he had hurt her bond-companion to protect her. She respected that choice, even if Irayna couldn't see it. The pixie turned away and followed in Irayna's wake, her glow slowly shifting from anxious yellow back to a concerned blue as they put distance between themselves and the den of thieves.