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There was a window in Joffrey Perrin's office above the warehouse, but it had been boarded over. This was not much of a loss -- the view had shown nothing more than the ruins of another warehouse, that had been burnt out in a fire shortly before the orc-war, and not yet rebuilt. Merchant Perrin was lucky that the fire had not spread to his own warehouse. He didn't keep any important papers in his office, of course, but there had been a lot of stock in the warehouse at the time -- and as Perrin dealt primarily in fine liquors and spices, the building would likely have exploded like a powder-keg. He could have lost thousands. Of course, Perrin's luck was not all good. One of his several ships had docked only last week, and the trader had not had much good to report. The meager tradegoods had been offloaded and stored in the warehouse, and there was still space for another ship's worth of cargo. Depressed and irritable over this dip in his fortune, Perrin had taken himself off to the country to visit his mistress. To make matters worse, while he was away, rats had moved in. A particularly nasty breed of wharf-rat, that walked on two legs. Dawn sat at Joffrey Perrin's desk, idly leafing through his records as he waited. Everything was in place: traps, set-spells... bait. Dusk leaned against the wall, watching the street through a crack in the board over the window. {Nervous?} he asked, as Dawn glanced up. Dawn shrugged. "Not really. You're the one doing the hard work. All I have to do is piss her off. Which, as it happens, I have a talent for." Dusk eyed his partner skeptically. {Bienca isn't-} "Didn't I say to leave it the fuck alone?" Dawn snapped, pointedly turning his head away. "I'm not thinking about it until after this job's done." Dusk sighed, and clicked his tongue to signal surrender. Another half-hour passed before Dusk hissed softly. {Here she comes.} "Alone?" {As near as I can tell.} Dawn grinned evilly and began straightening the desk. "Good. Make yourself scarce." Dusk did not have to be told twice. He stepped back into the shadows, and disappeared. The warehouse door screeched in protest as it was opened. Dawn leaned back in Merchant Perrin's comfortable chair, and propped his foot up on the desk. He folded his hands and let them fall comfortably to his lap. The stairs creaked. She was coming up slowly, cautiously. Aware of the possibility of ambush. There was no door at the top of the stairs. The tip of a sword preceded Vander into the room. She was not in uniform, though she still wore the ring on the third finger of her right hand. As her head turned, Dawn saw her resemblance to Bastian - and then it was gone again. She looked around quickly, but thoroughly. Her gaze rested last on Dawn, at the far end of the room from her. Certainly, the resolve in her eyes was very like her half-brother's. "Ah, so you did receive my note," Dawn said urbanely. "I was beginning to wonder." "Does Master Perrin know you've infested his warehouse?" Vander demanded. Dawn smiled. "Would you believe my answer, if I gave it to you?" Vander scowled. "Then I won't bother to try." Dawn set his foot back on the floor and leaned forward over the desk, his hands still folded as if conducting an interview. He gave her a serious and faintly worried look. "How's the trial going?" Vander's face darkened, and then she regained control. "You arranged it. You tell me." "I? I arranged nothing, my dear Captain - or is it Corporal?" He suppressed a smirk of satisfaction at the quiver of rage on her features. "That weak-kneed little bitch couldn't possibly have come forward on her own," Vander spat. Dawn raised his eyebrows, as if curious. "People will do all sorts of things you wouldn't expect," he said gently. "Especially when you back them into a corner." Vander took one step forward, menacing. "Why did you call me here today?" Dawn gave her his best roguish grin. "Why, to hire you, my dear." "What?" "Your apparent determination in cutting us down makes for the perfect cover," Dawn said reasonably. "We could do much together." Vander's face purpled. "You arrogant snake," she gasped. "I'll see you hanged, if it's the last thing-" Dawn's affable expression dropped away. "Let me be perfectly clear," he interrupted sharply. "One of my best men died, thanks to your tender mercies, and you have threatened the livelihoods of several more. You will work for me, until I say you have paid that debt. We can do this amiably, or we can do it the hard way. Your choice." "Come and get me, then." She began to lift her sword, then -- alerted by some subtle shift in the air or sound -- whirled to chop at the air behind her. Dusk's spell shattered and dropped away as her sword bit into his arm. A dagger fell from his suddenly-numb fingers to clatter to the floor. Dusk scrambled backwards, frantically trying to shake feeling back into his hand. With his other hand, he threw a poison-tipped dart, but Vander brushed it aside almost contemptuously, continuing to advance. Dawn jumped up, pulling a pair of daggers from his own belt. He threw one, and did not miss, but it turned on Vander's shoulder. Dawn cursed. "She's got fucking armor on!" he growled. "Did you think I was stupid?" she demanded, knocking another of Dusk's darts from the air with her sword. Dawn distinctly heard the snik of its injection core releasing as it thumped into the floor. Dusk summoned a pair of shadow-snakes. They leapt from his hands and began snapping at Vander, driving her back a step or two. Her sword passed through one, and, hydra-like, it sprouted a pair of new necks. Vander dove to the floor to avoid striking fangs. She jumped back up, and her arm snapped out. Dusk's spent dart thunked meatily into Dawn's shoulder before he even registered that she had picked it up. He cursed again, and hoped that any poison lingering in it would not be enough to lay him low before he could get the antidote from Dusk. Dusk's snakes drove harder, forcing Vander closer to Dawn. Desperate and angry, she attempted a sacrifice. She dove through the snakes to swing directly at Dusk. Dawn been at Dusk's side through enough fights to spot the exact moment Vander figured out the nature of the illusion. He growled a warning, but it was unnecessary. Vander was far too close to Dusk for him to summon another spell, and she was far too good a swordswoman for him to fight. He dove to the floor and rolled under her swing, and kept moving toward Dawn. Vander's eyes blazed with righteous fury, and victory - she had them both in front of her now. Dusk met Dawn's gaze briefly as he reached the unmarked edge of the trap, and leapt- Vander's foot hit the trap, and the floor collapsed. As if in a dream, Dawn reached out to catch Dusk's outstretched arm. His fingers brushed the fabric of Dusk's sleeve, clutched at it desperately, felt it slip. Vander shrieked, an unholy sound, as she fell onto the wooden stakes they had prepared. The scent of alcohol, already strong in the warehouse, burst into Dawn's sinuses and made his eyes water. Dusk twisted in mid-air, scrabbling for the edge of the floor as he fell. Dawn reached again, snatching for Dusk's flailing hand -- And missed. The set-spell had already triggered. The alcohol had soaked deep into the wood, and they burned with blue-hot flame. Dawn stood at the edge of the trap, staring down. The desk had fallen, splintered into a thousand pieces. Pieces of paper and parchment fluttered in the violent heat. Vander was dead. Dusk looked up at him, his eyes wide. He looked perfectly normal, except for the rough spike through his chest and the trail of blood that dripped from his mouth. "Dusk," he whispered, and then screamed. "DUSK!" Dawn knelt, reaching for a handhold. If he hurried, perhaps- Dusk's eyes closed, and his hand moved, weakly. {...love...} "No," Dawn said angrily. "You promised me. You promised! Open your eyes, dammit!" Dusk did not move. "Jethell Stalkerson, open your fucking eyes!" Dusk did not move. The fire was burning fiercely. Dawn could feel the heat even through his protective spells. A crack reverberated through the building, and the floor shifted under Dawn's hands. Dusk seemed to ripple, and the fire began feeding hungrily on his clothes and hair. His spells were gone. Dusk was... gone. Dawn's spell was at its limit. His own hair was beginning to singe. Choking on the billowing smoke, Dawn teleported. |
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