39 Saun 722
Continued from here.
Fuck.
Max ran her hands down her face as she moved through the streets of Westguard. Her head was pounding like someone wouldn't let off with the mallet. Every step on the cobbles ran pain and aching sensations up through her body. Anxiety settled in her chest, making existence itself a uniquely threatening experience. She wanted to lash out at every body that got too close or looked at her in a way that made her feel uneasy. Every set of eyes made her feel uneasy. Her thoughts were rampant in a mist of confusion and heavy haze.
She was suffering.
"Open up!" the addict pounded on the door of a mope she'd met at a local tavern when she first got to Westguard. When the first couple rounds of normal knocks yielded negative results, she took to the most incessant, annoying, loud fist pounding she could manage.
"Fuck off!" the grouchy man within finally hollered over her noise.
"Come on!" Max coaxed him, wincing at the desperation she heard in her own voice. "Just slide the window open!"
"What did I tell you? Huh? What?"
"Just a little bit, man, come on. I know you have some."
"No, I don't! I told you I'm dry. Maybe next season. Couple trials. Go the fuck away."
"I can't last a couple trials!"
"Not my problem. Kick rocks before I call for a patrol."
Fuck.
Maxine smashed her heel against the door, hard enough to rattle it but nothing more. She could feel her insides twisting and a deep, profound agitation begin to seize her. She shook her head and tapped her forehead with her palm. The haze didn't dissipate but a thought did rouse to the forefront.
One other spot. Across town.
She squinted up at the suns.
I can make it. I've got time.
The Rusalka's feet moved quickly through the streets again, taking the few shortcuts she knew but mostly sticking to main routes. A couple times she was forced to stop and lean over in the alley or behind a merchant stall when her body offered up a particular threat of either throwing up or passing out. Nothing felt right. Her mind was eating her to oblivion just as fervidly as her very being was. Hell was a place in Idalos. And it was every trial with all the shit she was hooked on.
"Hey, hey," Max breathed her relief when she spied the grungy bard sitting outside the cafe she was hunting for.
The bard blinked his half open eyes at her and grinned. She murmured her request in his ear and he grumbled his response. Max cursed him but reached in her pocket and gave him every coin she had. He looked up at her incredulously, and for effect, she responded by yanking her pockets inside out. He laughed and offered her the single joint of Ambrosia. Maxine swiped it hastily and popped it in her mouth. Being a terrible singer and musician might've turned him into a drug dealer, but somehow for having no skills at all he was still richer than she was. Especially now that he had the rest of the coin to her name.
Max violently threw the door to the cafe open and leaned over an occupied table. A couple having breakfast gasped at the intrusion, blinking their shock while she leaned over their candle to light the joint in her mouth. Once it was lit she stood up and took a long drag. Her eyes closed and she felt the warmth of the smoke in her lungs. Soon after the damning fog in her mind cleared and energized her brain and body. She opened her eyes and smiled wide with smoke spilling from her nostrils.
Fuck.
This time the curse was at the memory of what she was supposed to be doing. Withdrawals staving with each puff of her favorite vice, Maxine started back on her long journey back to her original destination. By the time she reached the safe house of the Guardians where Alice and the girls resided, the ninth break had rung. Max rounded the corner and pitched the finished joint at her feet. Her brow furrowed.
Something was...off. Her eyes scanned the second floor. Then the first. People continued to walk back and forth through the streets, business as usual. The building appeared oddly still though. She took a couple steps forward. That's when she noticed the door was slightly ajar.
Now that's not right.
Despite her instincts, Maxine made straight for the front. She glanced over her shoulder before sliding up against the house and peering inside. She'd never gotten this close before and she supposed she didn't know what the inside looked like, save for Alice's little drawing, but the oddities persisted. For a place that housed a bunch of guards and slave girls it was silent. Still. She pressed her lips into a line and flexed her fingers. The Rusalka slowly pulled the ajar front door open and stepped inside quietly.
Everything seemed to be mostly in place. It was orderly, even. The small kitchen didn't have a crumb on the table. Down the first floor hall she could see not a spec of mud or dust. Her feet carefully moved her forward on the path Alice had outlined in her drawing during their planning stage. According to her intelligence, there should've been three guards in this house. Still she heard nothing. She tied her bandana around her face, pressed on, and moved up the stairs to the second floor.
What the fuck is going on...
Nothing stirred. Max pulled a knife into her hand from her belt. She adjusted her jaw and toggled her sense of hearing to the forefront. A subtle sound came from the closed off room the women were housed in. From the guard rooms though, still nothing. The Rusalka pushed past the side rooms for the door at the end of the hallway. As she reached for the door knob the door flung unceremoniously open and someone came tumbling into her.
Max felt hands catch her arms that came out to clinch with the assailant, but when her eyes settled on the face of the enemy her face drained of color. She slipped the knife immediately into its sheath. That's when she caught the sight of the hands covered in blood holding onto her. She looked back up in time to see Alice sway before she fell forward into her frame. Max caught her and eased her down in her arms.
"You're late," Alice whispered between painful gasps.
"I know," Maxine answered softly. Her eyes roved the bloodied frame of her ally and found more than one deep, penetrating wound soaking through her cotton shirt. She pressed one of her hands against what she guessed was the worst, and started to gently work on raising the woman back to her feet. "You hang on. I'll get you out of here."
"Stop," Alice yelped, gripping Maxine tightly with a grimace. "Please stop."
"I can get you to a healer."
"You're a killer, aren't you?" Alice's anguished stare bore into Maxine's softened gaze. The Rusalka stared regrettably at her. Alice's face hardened between shaky breaths. "Tell me the truth. Will it matter?"
Maxine glanced behind them toward the room Alice all but fell through. She could see a thick trail of blood leading from one end of the room to the hallway, and dark pools where Alice had rested between bouts of fighting her way toward an exit. She looked back at the blood soaked shirt and then to Alice's face. Max swallowed and shook her head.
"I thought not," Alice laughed a joyless laugh before wincing again. "Just...let me rest a while?"
"What happened?"
"It's not their fault, the girls," Alice pleaded. She looked down at her wounds and quickly looked away. "It's not their fault. They're just scared..."
"You should have come with me that trial."
"I know...but I had to try."
Maxine's sharp eyes zipped around the room, hunting.
"It's okay," the slave soothed her, shaking her head. "They're all gone."
"I don't understand."
"Regina," Alice explained weakly. "One of the older girls? I was so close to convincing them...we were ready to go. Just waiting for you. She got in their heads, told the guards. They were just scared. They didn't mean it..." The injured woman swallowed and then coughed. "After...they moved on. New safe house. Don't worry." Alice smiled consolingly. "I didn't tell them about you. I wouldn't."
"Fuck, Alice..."
"I just wish you came sooner..."
"You didn't deserve this..."
"Fate doesn't care for what we deserve."
Max nodded a reluctant agreeance. She looked up at the ceiling and exhaled an uneven breath. Her attention snapped back to the stirring body in her arms. Alice had reached to steer her hand away from pressure on her wounds to hold hers instead.
"Please don't leave," the girl implored, life coming to the tight grip she had on Max now. "Will you stay? Until it's over?"
"I won't leave you," Maxine promised firmly. "I won't go anywhere."
"I'm afraid."
"I know."
Max fought the sorrow that warred for dominance in her expression. She wanted to give an air of confidence, of stoic neutrality in this moment. She could feel the change in Alice as time had passed since she arrived, the shortening of her fought breaths. Max bit her lip. Alice was too smart to be fooled by a false front. She would not disparage the woman by offering one now.
"There's an Immortal," Maxine said, words unsteady. She cleared her throat, tried again. "There's an Immortal. Famula. She's been a real cunt to me, and when it's my time I think she's got plans to make my afterlife somehow far more insufferable than my life. If that's possible." She could feel the warmth of Alice's blood on her skin and clothes now. "She'll be kind to someone like you, Alice. If you go to her."
"Famula?"
"Yeah. Just don't drop my name. I won't get you any favors." She offered the slave a smile that didn't reach her eyes.
"I wouldn't know it anyways."
"Max," the Rusalka introduced herself finally. She pulled the bandana off her face, too. "Just Max."
"Max..." Alice smiled weakly in return. "It's nice to finally meet you."
No, it isn't.
"Come here," Alice murmured.
Max immediately obliged her, turning her head close to the woman's moving lips. She listened intently to every airy word. Sometimes her eyes hardened. Sometimes her head nodded. After a bit she pulled her head away. Alice nodded at her, expression smoothing back over as she'd said her piece.
"I promise," Maxine assured her. She adjusted her jaw, "All of it. I promise."
"Thank you," Alice said distantly. "For being here."
The Rusalka stayed with the dark haired, blue eyed girl as she suffered and bled in her arms. Before the half break was up Alice was still. Her shuddering gasps had ended and her eyes rested open. Max slowly released the girl's hand and balled her own blood soaked fist up against her temple, rocking the two of them back and forth gently while her expression contorted a storm of emotion.
She was supposed to get there at the seventh break. She'd come at the ninth. Two breaks earlier, on time, and maybe she wouldn't wear the blood of the tough poet forced servant too noble to jump at freedom without taking the others with her. Two break earlier, and her hands wouldn't be slicked red with another death that never should've been if not for her.
But no.
She had to chase drugs first.
Now Alice was dead.
Max gently eased Alice to the floor and closed her eyes. She remained there, kneeling beside the pale girl's body for a couple bits. Then, mind addled with fury, sorrow, and Ambrosia, she tore herself from her side and focused on the trail of Spite that lingered like a pestilence she was possessed to hunt.
And she did.
