He noticed, and laughed.
"There you go. You don't even like the bitch, but you are angry at me on her behalf. I'd complain, but that's actually one of your most endearing traits." He leaned over, cupping her shin with his hand and tucking a stray lock of inky-black hair behind her ear. "You are so soft, inside and out. I confess, I'm really curious to see if in time, you'll end up hardening or melting, and what will cause one or the other."
She frowned, not quite understanding what he meant or what he was trying to get at. However, she strongly suspected it wasn't bound to be very flattering. Therefore, she leaned away from his hand, shook her head to return the rebellious curl to its chosen place, and pouted.
"Well, perhaps I'll decide to disappoint you. Perhaps I'll remain exactly the way I am now."
"Oh, yes, perhaps. But I strongly doubt it."
Valerie had always been an eclectic driver, in the sense that she was very good at keeping a car moving, very creative when it came to hitting things with it and terrible at using brakes. She sped up, not caring at all about the oncoming traffic and the surprised yelps of bystanders. Something in the rearview mirror caught her eye, and she sucked in a sharp, incredulous breath. Jack had apparently followed her down the building. Didn't the bastard ever give up?
She swerved, avoiding the heavy pieces of debris he was launching at the car, and started to reconsider the decision of taking it in the first place. It would be good enough to get her on the main-road, provided that nobody had though to block it – oh, who was she kidding? That would be the first thing he'd do as soon as he'd been informed she was in town.
It was hard to believe, but a small part of her was already starting to miss Marabeth. The woman might have been an unholy batshit she-devil, but she would only have tortured her for a few days and released her to her family once she grew bored. She also wouldn't have pursued her quite so insistently: laziness and having the attention span of a retarded spaniel had been two of her best traits. If her intended victim didn't happen to be where she could easily reach her, she'd move to a more convenient target. Jack was much more single-minded, and therefore a lot more dangerous. At least when it came to her.
"I think I should probably get going."
"So soon? I haven't even managed to get you drunk yet. Hell, I'm not even properly wasted myself."
"Good. Remember what happened the last time you did drink too much?"
"So I dunked Cicerny in a fountain, cry me a river. If he wasn't bothered by it, why should you..."
"Fine, fine," she huffed. "Have it your way. Just don't tell me I didn't warn you when they throw you out. After all, you already did your best to anger our host." The smirk he gave her was too presumptuous for words. She ought to feel offended by that, if not by the paternalistic way he patted her arm, but couldn't.
"But if it means that much to you, I'll endeavor to stay sober. Mostly sober. On the condition that you stay a bit longer and let me have your first dance after I'm done downing what's left of this bottle."
"Oh, but I can't." The truth of it saddened her a little, but there was no helping it. "It wouldn't be proper."
"It wouldn't be proper." He mimicked, adding a whiny voice and exaggerated gestures that made her snort in exasperation. "Fuck properness. It also wouldn't be the first time we'd dance together, right?"
"No." She shook her head. "It really wouldn't be right. I mean, I'm bound to be mated in a few weeks."
There was a breath sharply drawn, a clinking noise of glass shattering, and eventually, a large wet splotch of pomegranate wine spreading under the table. She shifted on her chair, suddenly uncomfortable. Jack was still staring at her, mouth agape, as if unable to comprehend what had been said.
"Mated?" She had never heard his voice like that. For once, there wasn't an ounce of irony in it. He sounded like someone to whom the rug had been abruptly yanked from under his feet, only to leave them dangling in empty space. "Whoever are you getting mated to, and why in the world am I only hearing about it now?"
"Because it was arranged by my father, and I myself only knew about it yesterday."
"And is this person aware of your...little problem?"
"Father says that the fact that I'm a freak is irrelevant as far as my intended is concerned."
"Ah. A fetishist." She felt a stab of pained shame at that, but forced herself to keep smiling. "I guess there is a hole for every square peg after all."
"Don't...don't be mean," she pleaded. "I can't ruin this. It may very well be the only chance of finding a mate that I'll ever get. Father is only a minor noble, who is almost completely bankrupt and has little to no say in Council business, and all the money he has left, he's saving for my sisters who actually stand a chance of making a decent match. Even if you overlook my 'little problem', as you call it, I still haven't all that much to offer."
"You'd be surprised. Who is the lucky fellow, then?"
"I think his name is Ralen?"
"You are being mated to him, and you aren't even sure about what he's called?"
"As I said, father arranged it. I'm supposed to meet him later tonight." Her face scrunched up in worry. "Do you think he'll like me?"
Jack never answered her. He simply stood up and walked away without a word.
Valerie rammed the front of the car in the back of a truck, opened the door and rolled out. She still hadn't succeeded in losing Jack, and it seemed like his backup had finally arrived. Everyone else was being herded out of the street, to clean a path for the group that was making its way through the crowd. She crouched behind the truck and scanned them, taking note of the heavy armor they wore, of how many tentacles each one had out, and what kind of weapons they were using. Electric nets – tricky, but she knew she'd be able to ignore the pain of being fried and cut her way out of one if it came to that – the usual assortment of maces and battle-axes, a few hand-grenades – those could be trouble – some sort of spray-cans that probably contained paxpernia... no, nothing she couldn't handle.
The people holding all those things were far more worrying. Jack had assembled his entire group to take her down, and he was far pickier when it came to choosing his allies than Billy Sykes had been. She didn't even need to run most of them through her mental database of names, since they were already pretty well acquainted. Nicolai Cicerny – Jack's best friend and right-hand man - seemed to be giving the orders, at least for the time being. Still, it didn't look like the rest of them were doing much, which unnerved her. It was all too likely that a bigger net was being closed around her, and that they didn't feel compelled to move until all her escape routes were successfully blocked, leaving her no choice but to engage them in combat.
And she would lose. Jack she knew she was able to take, and she felt confident she could handle two or three or the others, but all seven of them was too much even for someone with her kind of training. If she wanted to retain any hope of getting away, she would have to move quickly. Stealthily, she opened the door of the truck and snuck inside, ducking behind the wheel when they started firing. One of them – possibly Axis, more likely Byron – jumped on the truck and slashed through its ceiling, jamming the blunt end of a tentacle in the back of her seat and causing her to lose control of the vehicle.
She retrieved her knife and stabbed until he got the hint and withdrew. By then, she was almost upon the others. Some jumped out of the way, but the rest stayed their ground, Nicolai among them. He simply grabbed the truck by the front when it threatened to flatten him, and flipped it over. Valerie groaned. That had...almost...hurt. Worse, someone's tentacles had enclosed around her chest and legs, and she was being forcibly dragged out of the squished vehicle. Frantically, she scrambled for the knife and severed the ones binding her legs, but not in time to avoid being dropped like a sack of potatoes on the warm asphalt. One of her attackers – the one holding her down - whistled. She made sure to skewer his limb with extreme prejudice before jumping to her feet and glaring at the lot of them.
"Are you shitting me, Redmont? You seriously haven't given up yet?" Nicolai was shaking his head in disbelief. Valerie ignored him. Her attention was focused solely on the newest arrival. Nicolai spared him a glance and a nod before going on. "You do know that you are only making things worse for yourself, right?"
"I think she does know that, Nick," Jack said, taking his place at the other man's side. "She just doesn't care. I'm still trying to decide if that's impressive or just plain stupid."
"Personally I'd go with stupid, but to each its own. Okay boys, let's go fishing!"
The hallways that led to the ballroom were dark and cold, and her steps sounded way too loud in the solemn stillness. Dawn would be breaking soon. Most of the attendees had excused themselves hours ago and headed home, and the large chamber was empty save for a few slumbering drunks, bored slaves and old men playing card games. She bit her lower lip and stifled a sob. The party was over, and so was her life. Anxiously, she scanned the leftover guests. Jack was still at the table he'd been headed to last time she'd seen him, though he looked to be only barely conscious. Taking care to not draw unneeded attention to herself, she meandered towards his seat. He had seen her but chosen to ignore her, and on any other evening, she'd have humored him. But tonight she needed his help. She didn't know who else to turn to.
"Jack?" No reaction, so she poked him. "Please. I know you are awake, and I need you to do me a favor."
"Ask Ra-whatever-his-name-is."
"I sort of can't," she whispered. "Because he is sort of...dead. Decapitated, rather."
"...what?!"
"Decapitated. It was an accident."
"..."
"Will you help me move the body?"
One of the nets was thrown towards her. Valerie jumped aside, catching it by the unelectrified safety bands, and threw it at Jack's head. She ducked again when he imitated her move and threw it right back, almost hitting Nicolai in the process.
"Outch! Careful there, man!" he hissed. No one paid him any mind. Jack was, once again, focused solely on her.
"Do you actually expect to beat us, Valerie?" No. Not really. But she was, despite everything, Tsikalayan, and if she had to go down, she would go fighting. Preferably while dragging as many of them as she could with her. "Because I'm getting tired of this song and dance, and you..." Throw, catch, throw. "...won't gain a thing by being stubborn." Throw, catch, throw, duck, think, think, think.
"It's not as if I'll lose that much. What will you give me if I suddenly decide to be a good girl and roll over? Comfier manacles? Slightly colder irons? Bottled water and bread that's less than two days old?"
"Surrender, and you'll find out." She hesitated, long enough to guarantee he had noticed and that her hesitation had given him pause, just like she knew it would. Jack knew her pretty well. They had been acquainted for so long that he had gained a reasonable amount of insight in her way of thinking. Somehow, he had never realized that that particular road went both ways. "Come on, Val, drop the knife. I know you have no real reason to believe me, but I swear I won't harm a hair of your head if you cooperate."
"Yup. He'll leave the harming to me." Nicolai winked at her, causing her to shiver in disgust. Jack shot him an annoyed look.
"What? When did we agree to that?"
"Oh, we aren't playing good cop/bad cop? Sorry, my bad." Jack seemed to be about to retort, but she cut him off before he could start. With a defeated sigh, she dropped the electric net and raised her hands.
"Alright. You win, I lose, it's over. Happy?"
"Never count your chickens before they hatch." Jack grumbled, extending his arm. "Knife. Now." She threw it at his feet a bit more forcefully than necessary, leaving it embed in the ground. He yanked it out and passed it to Nicolai before advancing towards her, his face a mask of careful neutrality. Valerie forced herself to not flinch and take a step back, before realizing that both those things were exactly what he would be expecting in the circumstances. It would still be humiliating though, so she limited herself to looking wary until he was standing right before her. Without taking his eyes off her face for a millisecond, he fished a syringe out of his left pocket. Valerie shifted uneasily. Perhaps fearing she was about to bolt, he closed the distance between them in one step and wrapped an arm and a tentacle around her back, in a mockery of a hug. She could feel her hearth pounding against her ribcage as he lifted the syringe in his other hand and brought it closer to the white column of her throat.
"You swore you wouldn't...that you wouldn't hurt me." Fresh tears filled her eyes. Jack had always looked sympathetic and more amenable on the few occasions she had cried in front of him, so maybe it would help. Something in his demeanor did seem to soften. The almost painful grip of the hand on her back turned into a caress, and when he spoke to her again, his voice had grown deeper, smoother. Comforting.
"I did say that, didn't I?" He leaned in until his mouth was level with her ear and blew gently, sending a shiver through her spine. "Well, I lied." She knew he was going to say it. Of course she did. So instead of taking the time to listen, she snapped her jaw open and bit into his neck with all the strength she could muster. Jack howled – a Tsikalayan's teeth were almost as sharp as an askara blade, and she had made sure to rip out a sizable chunk of flesh – and head-butted her while she went for his right hand. Or rather, for the syringe it was still holding. The liquid inside was pale green, and deathly to anything that wasn't nigh immortal. It would have sent her to sleep instantly if she had allowed him to plunge it into her, and blacking out while in his power would never be an acceptable plan.
Jack, seemingly reading her mind, punched her in the gut with his other hand and lifted the one holding the syringe above her reach. She solved that problem by throwing herself on the ground and kicking his legs from under him. They both went down, rolling and clawing at each other in the dirt. She hid a smirk while she dodged another punch. Jack was so focused on keeping the syringe from her while seizing every single opening to stab her with it that he had completely overlooked the protection of a far more dangerous implement.
"Jack," she gasped. He had finally managed to get the drop on her, and was currently straddling her waist and trying to keep her neck still long enough to pierce a vein. "Riddle me this: what is red and black and sharp, and not currently hanging at your hip?"
"You?" he answered, with a smirk she made sure to top when she replied:
"No. This." Very quickly, very pointedly and very confidently, she placed the tip of the stolen broadsword under his shin. It was his turn to go pale – and she loved every second of it. "One wrong move, one twitch, and I jam it through your brain. Now, give me that." She gestured to the syringe. He automatically moved his hand as if to pass it to her, but she wouldn't be fooled by such and obvious trick. "No, on second thought, just extend your arm – slowly! – and drop it. That's it. Good." She seized it before he could find a chance to do something fishy and inserted the red needle in his forearm. He struggled a bit, and this time she let him. The plunger had already been pressed, and he wouldn't keep fighting for long anyhow. Sure enough, Jack ended up stilling a few seconds later.
She turned to face the rest of the group. They were staring at her – no, wrong, they were staring at the sword – with unsure and, or so she'd like to believe, slightly fearful eyes. Seizing the moment, Valerie dragged the unconscious Tsikalayan up by the hem of his shirt and, with an eerie sense of dejá-vu, held him in front of her like a shield. She was careful to keep the sharp edge of the blade in close contact with his neck, though. It would be unwise to take risks when victory was so very near.
"Redmont, let's not do anything stu...senseless." Against her better judgment, she took a moment to properly appreciate the picture laid out in front of her. The nearest thing she had to an arch-nemesis was at her mercy, nobody was throwing stuff or trying to kill her for the time being, and Barashi's poster-boy for self-important sleaziness was talking to her in a tone that closely resembled begging. For once, just once, the tables had turned in her favor. "Just...just put the sword away and drop him, alright?"
"How about no?" The way he stared at her was almost funny. Did he honestly expect her to just hand over the only ace up her sleeve? "Try to look at things my way for a bit, Nicky. I could kill him, right here, right now. It would be easy – I think my current body-count proves that any hesitation I ever harbored over killing my own kind has long since been eroded, and it's not as if I like him enough to stay my hand. Quite the contrary, in fact. It also wouldn't worsen my situation a yota. If I let him live, he'll want to get even as soon as he gets up. If I kill him, I'm sure you'll want revenge, but let's face it: you are severely lacking in anything resembling creative thinking, and whatever horrible fate you'd come up with would be nothing compared to what he'd do. Between both those scenarios, I think I like the one where he's dead the best. At least then I'll have a warm, happy memory to get me through the day."
Nicolai was fidgeting with the handle of his axe now, looking obviously troubled. A tiny part of her was starting to feel a twinge of pity. She squashed it as soon as she noticed it; long ago there had been a girl, and she had been soft and kind-hearted and willing to believe the best about everyone. She had also been a spoiled brat and a mindless sheep, and condoned things that made her present self gag just by thinking about them. That girl wouldn't even have fought. She would have surrendered on spot, because she would have known in her heath of hearths that if all those big, important Tsikalayan men were telling her she was being difficult and needed to be corrected, surely they must be in the right. That girl would have pitied poor widdle Nicolai's hurt feelings and tried to cheer him up even as he put her in chains. Therefore, she would avoid doing, thinking or even feeling anything that reminded her of her.
The best thing to ever happen to that girl had been dying many a year ago.
"I'm sure we can reach some sort of agreement," he said at last. "What if we give you over to the High Council? You'll have to spend a lot of time in jail, yes, but I hear the dungeons in Alkarosh aren't nearly as bad as..."
"No deal, sorry." It wasn't a completely ludicrous offer, that she had to admit. Under other circumstances, being put in the hands of the government instead of private individuals who hated her would be the best she could hope for. But that had been then, and this was now, and she had a counterproposal ready. "How about this? You let me escape to fight another day, and don't try to follow. I'll take him with me as insurance, but will drop him somewhere as soon I'm off your radar and be on my way. You can even have my blood oath on that." She probably didn't need to add the last part, but it would save time and spare her a needless back and forth about whether he could trust her word. "Also, if you think Mister Sunshine here will nag you for letting me escape, don't worry. He doesn't want me captured, he wants to capture me. Having you be the one who does it while he plays the role of the proverbial damsel in distress would annoy him more than having to restart the chase."
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