Another Mercenary Among Merchants

[Aveilthé]

Taro's ears twitched as he heard the unmistakable sound of
pitter-pattering feet of what seemed to be a very clumsy person.
'Oh, this will be too easy,' Taro thought, unable to contain
his laughter, but luckily it was muffled because he was high up
on the rafters. He took Bloodfang from his back, clutching it
tightly and silently but slowly cracking his knuckles. He noticed
fumes wafting through the room, and he knew, as he felt his
heart thumping faster with each passing minute, that it was
nearly time.

As Fortuné climbed a flight of stairs, he could still hear Rosaline
calling out to him, but he was pumping his fists angrilly. He
had undoubtedly forgotten why she was here - but Fortuné's
purpose was true and bold; he would whisk her away himself
and tell her to never come back here again, regardless of him
still bearing feelings for her. As he trotted down another staircase,
he ambled to a halt. His eyesight caught what looked like a plume
of some smokey substance coiling and curling through the dimly
lit corner of the stair. At first impression, he could have sworn
that it was fire, but as he breathed in, he could smell something
very peculiar. A kind of perfume, perhaps. After a moment he
had started to become drowsy, but he still kept his bearings.

As he approached the final landing and had appeared out in the
opening, the next thing he knew was that he was being glomped
by the fair image of Rosaline.

"You young, brassy girl," he growled, trying to pry her off. "What
is the matter with you? Why did you return?" And then she spoke
of how they'll be together, forever, and that he will be finally rid
of his demons. "Rosaline," he said with a bewildered disbelief,
"Vampires cannot be exorcised!" And then it happened. His voice
seemed to have been slightly strained as he said these words.

"The smell... this perfume... there is... Uggggh," he said, doubling
over Rosaline as he grabbed her shoulders if she allowed that.
"Humans. Humans... There is more of you here!" He shouted,
attempting to toss Rosaline aside as he fell onto his hands and
knees.

His world began to spiral once again as he faught a losing battle
with his vampiric instincts. "Rose... Rosaline, you better get
out of here," he growled, his face hidden as his knuckles turned
whiter than normal, his skin more pale than before.

Fortuné then looked upward. His eyes were flashing green, yet
there was a glaze of crimson within his pupils. Slowly he stood
up, seething through his teeth - his teeth, whose canines had
since lengthened, glittering ominously in the dark. Oooh, scary.

[Mama Z]

It was like listening to glass moving around in a blender. Loud and annoying. Zayn had begun moving down the hall, but stopped aways when he realized Fortune was no longer following him. He let out a breathless sigh as he closed his eyes concentrating on the words being exchanged between December and Fortune. Surprisingly, she gave a warning of further intruders. But being the foppish fool, Fortune moved to confront what they had been dreading and fleeing from. Eyes slowly opened and he looked at the path ahead of him. His eyes adjusted, he could see the faint outline of his freedom. But what of his brother. The groaning in the house said something bigger was about to happen and already he could smell the perfumed smoke someone had lit.

After all these years, could he live alone without his brother? To let him figure it out for himself? No, Zayn was a selfish indiviual, he couldnt allow harm on his brother because he ran, he wanted him, in a way, all to himself. Turning and lying within the shadows, he followed Fortunes exact path to confront the stupid girl. Light and the scented air were getting closer and he faultered up the stairs. That smell was horrid!

[Felypsa]

“Fortuné!” Rosaline’s piercing scream could be heard by all, the one sound cutting through an otherwise silent mansion. But as she reached down to help Fortuné up, she caught a glimpse of his eyes, slowly changing to a vicious red. It frightened her, as did his warning, but she did not run away as he advised; instead she called to her savior, the priest.

“Father, the demon is within him! Hurry, please, rid him of this foul spirit once and for all!” But then the stupid girl herself got a whiff of the scented candles and incense, and she too began to droop. Unfortunately for her, she was losing consciousness at the foot of an emerging vampire.

Father Hyde saw approvingly that his plan was going well. The vampire was faltering, and Rosaline was sleeping too. She would not be able to see what was actually happening, therefore would not be able to accuse him of treachery later. “I know, Rose,” the priest said softly, picking her up and carrying her away from the vampire—but he stopped. Fortuné was rising, his eyes glittering crimson, and in the darkness, he truly looked like a fearsome vampire. The priest muttered several prayers under his breath, backing away slowly, praying for protection, for the vampire to fall asleep, for the mercenary to come and rid the world of this creature once and for all.

And worse, in the distance, approaching this room, Father Hyde saw a second figure, equally ominous. Fear struck the cowardly priest’s heart. There were two of them! There really were two of them. He burst out, babbling Hail Marys and Our Fathers continuously, while still backing away. But half of his prayers were not directed toward God, but toward a certain mercenary in the rafters…



To her great surprise and annoyance, Zayn ran past December on his way to help his idiotic brother. “Why do you have to be all noble now?” she burst out angrily, wishing for the reasonable, self-interested Zayn she had known the night before. “Oh great, now not one but two vamps are in danger,” she said to Imi, who was fluttering alongside her, chirping urgently. She scowled at her companion. “Dammit, I know! I’m going already! Honestly, right now I really abhor people,” she muttered.

But she went onward, even though Zayn was ahead of her now. Once, though, she thought she heard him stagger, and a second later, she knew why. There were awful perfumes in the air, an incense that surely had soporific effects. “Oh, bloody hell,” she said, covering her nose with her hand. My life suddenly became that much worse. It would be a hell of a lot harder to fight Taro now, if she was fighting to stay awake at the same time.

Finally, as December emerged from the stairs and into the room, she beheld a scene of chaos. The air was thick with smoke, but she could make out the shape of the priest, holding a passed-out Rosaline, backing away from a rising Fortuné. December could not see his eyes, but she was willing to bet that he had gone vampire. The simple presence of humans—not only Rosaline, but also the priest and Taro, wherever the hell he was—was enough to trigger Fortuné’s transformation.

December raised Seraphim high, and its pallid glow cut through the thick smoke around her. She could see a little better now, but seeing didn’t help her at all; she still could not know where Taro was. But she shouted out so everyone would hear her. “Everybody, just calm down! Father, if you could take Rosaline home now, really, because you’re aggravating the vamps! I have everything under control, if you would all please just leave!” Of course, she was only acting the mercenary, hoping that the priest would listen to her. In the meantime, she hurried up to Fortuné and tried to shove him back, further away from the priest and closer to Zayn, who was (as far as December could tell) still in control of his vampiric instincts. “Down, boy.”

Standing near Fortuné, December narrowed her eyes and looked about her. Alright, Taro, I know you’re here…why don’t you show yourself and we can settle this once and for all. She raised her sword, ready for anything.

[Aveilthé]

OOC: FWAAAAAAH I'm reminded of a haunted house XD

Fortuné was leering menacingly upon Father Hyde and Rosaline,
lips slightly parted as if itching to let his jaws find its way to their
warm, alluring flesh. Without a thought, he was slowly making his
way towards them, but fell back instantly as a light pierced into
his eyes. Snarling with rage, Fortuné leapt inhumanely like a cat
over Seraphim and it's bearer, landing with ease on his toes -
or rather, boots, that sounded oddly noiseless, much like the gifted
Taro. At this point, he couldn't hear a thing - December's cries
and the sound of his brother approaching was all deaf to him.

In an unearthly cry, the vampire charged straight at his human
targets, madness in his wake.

Taro gasped silently as he watched the scene unfold before him.
December was there, which wasn't a surprise, but he cursed
silently, knowing all too well that she would only get in the way.

Then he watched the vampire in awe, but not for long. It was
now or never. Gripping Bloodfang, he took off from the wooden
beam and lunged straight at Fortuné before he ended up making
a lunch out of a priest and innocent young maiden. Actually, he
really didn't give a rat's ass at the stupid, mindless young girl. It
would have been her fault for meddling too deep with the
foppish Fortuné, especially now understanding what he truly was.

"RRRAAAH!" cried Taro, swinging his blades at thunderous speed
at Fortuné. The vampire, not expecting someone to attack from
above, halted fast and looked down at his stomach. A silvery
blade had pierced from his back and through his belly until it went
right through. Dark blood was splattered onto the floor and onto
his already blood-stained white shirt. Fortuné's face was
momentarilly shadowed as he groped the end of the blade, his
hands being soaked with his own blood.

Taro had successfully hit his target. He was yelling with triumph,
still holding the middle part of Bloodfang. "This was all too easy!"
he shouted, pumping his free fist into the air, and grinning from
ear to ear.

Yet it was far from over.

[Felypsa]

Everything was happening way too fast. December barely registered the fact that Fortuné was charging the humans when suddenly he was pierced with a very familiar sword in front of her. Penetrated all the way through, like a sickening butterfly-on-a-pin. She did not go into shock, for she was very used to people being killed before her eyes—but she was still surprised, not to mention very angry.

But she did not act rashly. Not completely, anyway. Taking her rage and transferring it to cold fury, December swung Seraphim neatly down towards Taro’s hand, the one that was still holding his Bloodfang. Unless he moved quickly, his hand would got lopped off quite easily, for December was swift and forceful. Whether that worked or not, December would bring her blade back up and hold the tip at Taro’s throat—if he allowed it.

A moment’s pause while December, barely breathing, was death-staring Taro down. “You sellout of a bitch,” she said quietly, with deadly anger in her voice. “I thought better of you, Taro. What happened? You never had morals, but you always had the integrity of a mercenary. You never did a job unless you knew all about it. Or am I remembering incorrectly?” She removed Seraphim, but kept it in a stance ready for combat any split second, lest Taro try to duel her instantly.

“I don’t want to fight you, but you’ve just stabbed a good friend of mine, and I don’t appreciate it.” Her violet eyes, usually impassive like stones, blazed with purpose. She was clearly not joking around.

The following events passed by in a blur for Father Hyde. Unlike December, he was not used to such bloody acts, and nearly vomited when Fortuné was literally pinned to the ground. During December’s exchange with Taro, a little bird the priest hadn’t noticed before fluttered over to him. It was twittering urgently, gesturing for the exit. Father Hyde didn’t need to be told twice. Believing the bird was a spirit sent by God to save him, the priest escaped as quickly as he could, dragging the unconscious Rosaline with him. The vampire was dead, that was all that mattered—his spiritual duty was done. Time to haul ass.

Having sent the humans away to avoid any other vampiric disasters, Imi hurried over to where Zayn was still standing. She was chirping wildly, flapping her wings frantically. She wanted to know if Fortuné was really dead. Didn’t it take more than a sword to kill a vampire? Or was a stab in the heart just that, a stab in the heart, no more, dead for good, and all the myths of vampires’ immortality mere myths after all? Please, say he is not dead. Zayn, tell me he is not dead!

[Mama Z]

A vampire was known for its speed. Even in hunger they had possed an unnatural speed that made it seem like an illusion and nothing more. But apparently, the mercenary had been much quicker. Zayn had knelt down, a hand covering his nose and mouth. This smoke was horrid, it burnt his senses like a hot poker. But anger was brewing in under his skin as he smelt blood over everything and watched as the Father quickly fled. A poor excuse for a fighter of God. December was there, trying her best to pin the man who stabbed his brother.

His brother was there. Stabbed like a stuck pig. Moving forward, he went to capture the body he was sure to fall to the ground. He heard December speak, and Imi's cry. He knew of a few ways a vampire could die, sun light, fire and dismemberment, however that sword Taro possed could change everything. If it was like Decembers, it could surely bring death quickly.

[Aveilthé]

The very moment the blade was thrusted into Fortuné's abdomen,
he had stopped, gasping deeply and immediately gripping the
base of the blood-stained sword that met with his stomach.
He looked down upon it, and saw his hands a deep maroon
splotched like syrup. For that moment he looked dazed, unable
to tear his eyes away from the tip of the long blood-stained blade.

His whole world began to shift and whirl before his eyes. He
staggered forward, and as he did so, the blade was pulled
from him. Taro had held the double-ended sword, and was
grinning maniacally as he did so, shouting how easy it had
been to kill. Blood was beginning to pour from his abdomen,
trickling down onto the floor as he fell onto his knees. Caughing
weakly, he spat blood onto the floor and fell faintly into Zayn's
arms, his breathing delicate and shallow. He tried to speak, but
couldn't, so he mouthed a few unintelligable words with a various
grunts as he looked at his brother with what looked like
sadness.

Seraphim had been swung into the direction of where his giant
hand had been, but Taro was lucky, at least to what could have
been. He had moved with instant reflex as he saw the sword
coming down at lightning speed. However, the sword had given
Taro a deep gash into the top of his hand, and he winced
with the pain that seized him. "God dammit!" he shouted, twirling
his katana and pointing it likewise at December.

He gritted his teeth angrilly as he listened to her shout to him
about morals and integrity. There was prominent wrinkles about
his face as he looked upon her with fury. "Yeah, well, thar's one
thing 'bout bein' poor and not havin' enough shit to keep on
livin', and that damned vamp's killed that blondie ass chick's
grandpops, so the fookah is bettah off," he snarled back,
clashing Bloodfang with Seraphim. "Back off Dec, I'm warnin'
yah! Life's a bitch, an' yew know dat! I was even gon'..." He
paused, narrowing his eyes, obviously changing his mind of
what he was about to say.

[Felypsa]

December’s eyes flickered over to where Fortuné was, moaning and ragging himself over to Zayn. The scene filled her heart with sorrow and fury. While she was momentarily distracted, Bloodfang smashed into Seraphim. December instantly went into “battle-mode,” twisting her sword around to break the deadlock with Taro. She had never fought against a fellow mercenary as skilled as Taro before, and thought she might be in the fight of her life.

“That’s the way he survives,” December shouted back, finding it strange that she was defending the creature that she had not long ago condemned in her mind. “Would you kill a wolf to avenge the family of a doe that it killed in order to live? It’s the goddamned circle of life, Taro. Life is a bitch—” She whirled around to avoid Taro’s next blow.

“It might interest you to know that justice has already dealt with Fortuné,” December continued heatedly. “Think being a vamp is living the life? Hell no. He’s punished too. And who are you to be the avenging angel? All you care about the money, don’t lie to me, Taro, you don’t give a lick about that bitch’s grandfather. So don’t pretend to be the bringer of justice. You’re just looking out for yourself and no other—like always.” Her eyes were like dancing fires. “You wouldn’t even let me in on it.”

December twirled about until she was behind Taro and swung Seraphim down towards the backs of his knees, hoping to hurt him and knock him slightly off balance. Whether she hit or not, she would instantly bring Seraphim back up to shield herself. She moved unbelievably fast, like a pale blur whirlwind of force.

[Aveilthé]

Bloodfang made a grating hissing sound as it was brought down an
inch from Seraphim.

Taro retaliated, spit flying from his mouth. "Tha way yuh talk
yerself, sounds like yuh wouldn't mind killin' 'im off either! And
I... well I was gon' give yuh half the dough!" His voice rang out
as he said this, but didn't have time to think of what else to say,
for December had swiveled around him and attempted to get him
off his guard. Growling, Taro weaved away just as fast. Both
human-giant and angel-girl were evenly matched. Perhaps the
only disadvantage for Taro, was that he was sure December knew
most of his moves - but the same held true for Taro, but they've
been separated for so many years that he was sure December
learned some new moves and that he'd have to try to watch
her every move if possible.

Thus Taro took advantage of December's defense and twirled
Bloodfang like a baton and swung it to her sword as hard as he
could, in an attempt to use his strength to force her back so that
he could make a next move if he could only get her off her guard.
Taro had his size and strength, but December had her quickness
and speed, something of a great disadvantage to Taro. He was
slower than her.

In truth Taro was getting frustrated with December, though he
really did not want to hurt her, she was getting on his nerves.
That's always how women are, of course. They talk about morals
and being indulgent, well... Taro was certainly not like that, and
he wasn't about to let December change his ways. He had a rough
life too, and it was true that he didn't give a hoot one way or the
other about Zayn or, Fortuné, even the bimbo-chested slut and
her grandparents.

[Felypsa]

December had just enough time to laugh. “Don’t be ridiculous, Taro, when have you ever ‘given’ anyone anything for free? Even if you did—” Her eyes flashed. “I wouldn’t take it. I told you before, Taro, that’s my friend that’s lying there—” But December didn’t have time to talk anymore, for she had to fend off Taro’s blow. She let out a little gasp, for his strength was immense, but she could just barely hold him off.

She bent her knees down, so that she was squatting, holding Seraphim with one arm, grimacing as Taro was pinning her down. And then, like a snake, she slithered out from under his trap, moving to the right. At the same time, she twisted Seraphim around, her wrist moving expertly and powerfully. All this in a split second. If Taro was still pushing against her, he might lose his balance when suddenly she was no longer there to be pushed.

But truth was, December was not completely unscathed. Her muscles were straining, for she was not nearly as strong as Taro. Thankfully, she still had a fairly fresh arm. Swiftly she transferred Seraphim from her powerful right arm to her slightly weaker left arm, to give her right arm time to recover. It might be a disadvantage, if Taro did a head-on attack like that again, for she was pretty sure she could not fend off such a blow with her left arm. But it was better than using her right arm too much.

She swung Seraphim at Taro’s left side, not to maim or kill, but to hurt just a little. Seraphim whipped by in a blurry, glowing arc towards its target. All December wanted to do was leave a mark and draw first blood—but just a little.

[Aveilthé]

Another thing that was a great disadvantage for Taro was
December's holy sword. That Seraphim held magical properties,
to not only ward off vampires, but it was not just any sword.
Taro's sword, Bloodfang, was just like any other sword,
regardless of being passed down to him from a passing mercenary
friend from long ago.

There was absolutely no time to think for Taro. December had
already managed to wheel her sword at his left side, and it struck
true and fast. A terrible yell emitted from Taro as he clutched
his bleeding waist with his free hand. The cut was deep. He didn't
even look down to see the damage. Ironically, Taro didn't like
himself bleeding, though he thoroughly enjoyed watching
another individual's pain whether it was a friend or nemesis.

"So that's how it is, then," he rumbled, his knuckles turning white
on the middle-handle of his katana as he leered at December
darkly. He yelled then made a fierce swing of Bloodfang, attempting
to reach any nearest part of December he could get.

[Felypsa]

Score. December made her mark. But she wasn’t happy about it. She had driven Taro to go into full-out dueling mode. He had been holding back before, apparently. She did not close her eyes, but she sent up a brief prayer. Father, help me…I don’t want to do this, but I have to. Do not let him prevail. I know I used to be like him, but I’ve changed. Oh father, Daddy…if you’re listening, if you’re watching, let me win this one battle.

If this were a movie, then Taro’s blows would be coming at her in slow motion, and the prayer in her mind would be said in regular time. So as soon as the prayer was done, Taro’s katana would resume normal speed, coming swiftly at her. But December was ready. Taro was all offense, so December had to be completely defensive. She moved Seraphim around with just a few flicks of her wrist, blocking every blow. But her wrist got tired, and she knew that her left arm could not keep up this exercise for much longer. She would have to change tactics, or else risk getting hurt.

But Taro was forcing her to back up, and she found herself up against a wall. Damn! She cursed herself; it was a careless mistake. And the blows kept coming, with December now desperately trying to fend them off, and then—she had to bend her wrist awkwardly in order to block one of his strikes, and her left wrist went loose with an audible snap.

December let out a whimper, but otherwise showed no sign of the grave hurt. She wordlessly switched arms, her tired right arm warming to the task of blocking Taro’s attacks, letting her left arm hang uselessly beside her. She had broken wrist bones before, and it was no fun and hurt like hell, but she would be all right. She had to be.

Once, instead of just blocking his blade, December pushed against it and started twirling Seraphim around it. Unless Taro resisted with great strength, his sword would get caught within the whirling Seraphim. December increased the twirling speed, and with one swift move jerked her sword to her left. The force would pull Bloodfang right from Taro’s grasp and send it flying away—but only if Taro let it. Regardless of what would happen, December would once again push Seraphim’s glowing tip to his throat—only if he allowed it to happen.

[Relairah]

Jolene had backed off once she had successfully lead December to
the two vampires down below, glad the mercenary hadn't snapped
at her or something when she had grabbed her hand so suddenly.
However, all of this had been far from over. She had watched the
following events, hoping to do one of two things, either help the
vampires and go with them, or help in warding off the unwanted
visitors, she had her ways of doing things unknown. However,
everything suddenly had changed when Fortuné had stupidly
reacted to December's words of warning. The idiot! But Jolene said
nothing, merely kept her opinions to herself. It would have been
pointless to speak them, everyone was thinking the same for one,
and for another they wouldn't be of any help.

She had started to go after Fortuné, wanting to grab him and bring
him back, but then Zayn went racing after him as well. This had
certainly taken a dramatic turn. Jolene had followed after December,
she also having picked up the strong scent from upstairs. She
neared the edge, and she saw only the last of the events
happening, with Fortuné turning vampiric. It had almost surprised
her, especially when the large man from before, Taro, she had
caught his name when he'd been arguing with December previously
at the edge of the church, he had come swooping down and
stabbed Fortuné! She hadn't expected that, no one had. She bit her
lip, glancing around swiftly, unsure of what to do. She felt she had
suddenly become an insignificant person that was caught in the
middle of something very important. Was she really unneeded at all?

She wasn't too far behind the others as far as for feeling faint. The
human blood that flowed through her veins didn't help. She could
feel herself losing consciousness. It was odd, the scent was
strange... she had never been to church before, so she wasn't used
to it. She didn't think to put her arm to her face, and thus she
breathed it in, and it caused her to wobble on her legs. She felt
herself bending toward the ground and she held her breath, her
orange eyes already squinting through the smoke in the air. The last
thing she saw was the blue glow of Seraphim in the air, pointing
toward the large man, Taro. And then she went black... or at least...
she thought she did.

-------

If Zayn wasn't too caught up in looking after poor Fortuné, he would
perhaps notice something soft rubbing against his arm. If he would
look down, he would see an orange tabby cat rubbing against his
arm and purring gently. The cat began to lick his hand with its rough
tongue, as if trying to show affection, and it would then move to
Fortuné's side, leaning against his arm slightly and pushing against
it, as if expecting a reaction. The most peculiar thing perhaps would
be that this cat, unlike most cats, had bright orange eyes instead of
green or brown. She began to purr softly and press her front paws
against his arm, one after the other, like cats do when exercising
their claws, except her claws were kept sheathed.

The cat looked expectantly at Zayn, as if expecting something, but
she looked back at Fortuné rubbing against his chin, as if trying to
keep him conscious. She seemed to ignore the fighting mercenaries,
although now and then she glanced in their direction, appearing as
if she wanted to go to them as well. Still, her tail flicked in
annoyance. How mysterious of this cat to randomly appear out of
seemingly nowhere and seem to try to help this vampire, in case he
might die.

[Aveilthé]

Things have happened so fast to Taro that he was so sure at first
that Bloodfang had got it's target, but the next split second he'd
realized that all was in vain. December's defence was extroardinary
with that holy sword of hers.

Seraphim clanged cacophonously against Bloodfang again,
but this time, Taro's grip wasn't strong enough. Thus, December
managed to successfully disarm Taro. Bloodfang twirled in an
arc as it flew from his large hand, slammed into a tall dusty
candelabra, then bounced from it and fell onto the floor with a
blaring clatter. Taro was too busy watching in horror as his only
weapon was taken from him, and he slowly turned his head to
see the tip of Seraphim's blade at his throat.

Not saying a word, Taro began raising his hands as if
finally submitting to December, yet his dark beady eyes were
narrowed at her. There was really no reason to speak at all.
Anything he could say, December would surely ram her blade
into his throat.

He was, of course, completely unaware that a tabby cat had
appeared in the scene, standing safely with the two vampires.
Or perhaps, not so safe.

[Felypsa]

December was breathing a little heavily after her maneuver had been completed. There was a long pause while she stared into her once-good friend’s narrowed eyes. It looked like he did not like her for besting him. It looked like he did not like her for suddenly turning sentimental, when for the longest time he had known her to be as heartless a mercenary as he was. It looked like she had taken a friend and turned him into an enemy. A part of her was extremely sad that this had to happen. The mercenaries in her company, like Taro, had been an important part of her. She loved them all. And now…

She truly had changed.

Still looking into Taro’s eyes, December whispered softly, “I’m sorry. But only a little.” And then, with one swift motion, she made to knock the flat of Seraphim’s blade against his head. The force of that blow, if it hit its mark, would most likely be enough to knock Taro unconscious, at least for a little while.

As soon as December had the chance, she let out a muffled cry of pain. Her wrist was reminding her very forcefully that it was broken. But December could do little for her injury now. Instead, she half-staggered over to where Fortuné was lying near Zayn, no longer looking like a graceful angel, but like a haggard, pale soldier just come back from the fight.

Imi flew over to her shoulder and sadly warbled as they both looked down at the fallen Fortuné. Remembering belatedly that the glow of Seraphim was painful to the vampires, December sheathed her sword, not even thinking of the possibility of Taro awaking, retrieving Bloodfang, and attacking them. Already her sharp warrior’s mind was being fogged over by emotion.

Imi’s soft murmurs suddenly became more urgent, as if trying to get December’s attention. Wearily December looked in the direction that her companion was indicating, and to her surprise and confusion, saw a tabby cat sitting near Fortuné. If December had been in her right mind, she would have noticed the telltale orange eyes that were so characteristic of a certain street urchin who had been accompanying her. But instead, she just stared.

“I didn’t know you had a cat, Zayn.” Her voice sounded strangely hollow. “Doesn’t seem to be your type…oh, you idiot,” she said, suddenly vehement, now addressing the bleeding and dying Fortuné. “If you had only listened to me—when will you ever listen to me, instead of running away all the time? Why can’t you be more like Zayn? Then you wouldn’t be in this mess, and I wouldn’t have a goddamned broken wrist…” She broke off, for she was aware that she wasn’t making any sense, but emotion was thick in her heart, and she didn’t know how to handle it.

She turned away from the little gathering, not knowing what to do or say, and instead tore off some material from her jacket. She was not going to make a tourniquet for Fortuné, for nothing could stop that much blood on such short notice, but she had to do something about her wrist. “Imi, go blow out all these goddamned candles, would you,” she requested wearily of the bird. Throughout the fight, she had not let the incense get to her, but now that it was over, she found herself getting drowsier by the moment.

As Imi changed into a tiny creature with huge wings to effectively blow away the thick incense in the air, December took hold of her left wrist with her right hand. Gritting her teeth, she pulled her left wrist into its proper position—and a pain so sharp tore through her. She let out a tiny cry, but made herself finish the task. Within a few minutes, she had made a cast for herself with her jacket-material.

She could do nothing for Fortuné but watch as he lay there dying at his brother’s side.