"Lady~" Comes the distant wail of a relaxing voice. "I can't keep you under for much longer."
"Just a bit more..." I murmur, eyes still closed.
When I needed time to think, I'd often resort to asking Indira to keep me submerged underwater with nothing but a breathing bubble and a chain that keeps me tied to the bottom of the shallow ocean floor—only a couple metres away from the ship.
There's little to no sound down here.
Only the peace and quiet that is the ocean.
I sway from side to side, kept tightly by the shackle tied around my ankle. My hair floats in separated strands that flay to the side, swirling is abstract shapes and lines that look almost ephemeral.
The boy to my side doesn't look fazed, only patient as he waits for Indira to leave.
"Leave me with him." I demand, only to be met with timid resilience.
"But Lady-"
"If I'm not up in 5 minutes, tell Merrick to get me."
The siren only nods, her shimmering hair bobbing up and down before she swims upwards towards the ship. With one powerful swoop of her iridescent tail she's already left the boy and I in the dust of the ocean floor.
I carefully face my patron, his face as soft and kind as I'd remembered it from the day before—only this time there was a sense of alert about him.
The boy in the alleyway whom my daughter chased after wades only two metres away from me—gills opened at his neck from where his Nox emblem is tattooed, webs between his fingers clearly manifested.
"I didn't expect to meet you like a fish out of water."
"I didn't expect to see you shackled to the ocean floor." He returns the joke, grinning with pointy piranha-like teeth. "What can I do for you, madame?"
I pause only momentarily to wade water for a bit.
"An audience with the Minister of Intelligence." I state.
"I don't have that sort of power, madame. And to be frank, even if I did, you'd have to have a damn good reason to seek his council." He offers, clearly sympathetic. "Trust me. A lot of people want to talk to him. It'd be hard if he'd just entertain anyone."
I nod, this guy clearly knows the ropes—something I'd long forgotten since my departure. Another event from yesterday arises in my head, causing a bright idea to come to mind.
"You're in the delivery unit?"
"No, madame. I'm trained as a soldier."
Great.
"That means you work Spades." I deduce.
His eyes light up with curiosity, the slight tilt of his head dramatised by the current of the water. The bubble around my mouth begins to grow smaller—I'd have to hurry up unless I feel like drowning.
"Yes, I do, Madame." He nods again. "Why do you-?"
"I'd like to request audience with him."
"I can't just-"
"I know." I cut him off. "It'll be hard. But if there's some possible way that you'll brush past him when you make your quota check in, tell him I'm waiting on the devil's circuit."
"But there's no such a place on this side of the city." He scrutinises, clearly confused. "And who am I referring to, once I ask?"
"He'll know."
***
Valentin's POV
A towel hung heavy on my head—I take heed to Russel's warning and dry off my skin before entering the delivery port of HQ. It's about a 8 hour-ish train from the docks, and to my surprise I'd had the oddest encounter.
Doing my rounds, collecting data from the ship's docked in Valhalli harder for trade inspection—I came across the woman from yesterday. A woman with red eyes. Red! And her daughters who seemed just as odd as her. Only this time, instead of chasing me inhumanly through a web of alleyway, she was chained to the bottom of the harbour with only five minutes left in a breathing bubble.
Russel had warned me not to listen to the woman—apparently a lot of girls claim to be in relationships with the inner circle to enter the HQ. He even took off his sunglasses to tell me—that's when I know my partner of two years is serious.
But something seemed... genuine about her.
That's probably not the right word, but when I look at her and her kids—she seemed pretty confronted by any mention of the Nox, so why would she want to date one of them? Besides, most of the women in these cases don't have kids.
My gills disappearing and my teeth grinding down to a flat ensemble of molars, I tug my shirt back on and let the creaky iron door open in front of me—revealing a grand lobby and interior. After the Nox renovated the mansion of the Ministry of Foreign Affairs, the inner circle turned it upside down, placing three decorative rules in place:
No red.
No white.
No rabbits.
It was... weird. But who in their right mind would question Atlas Solani?
Right, the guy over there getting flogged.
"You know the rules, Friar." Says Twin #1. "We gave you plenty of warnings. Chuck out the couch or your ass is grass."
Twin #2 bludgeons Friar again, causing a sharp help to resonate throughout the lobby that silences almost everyone. All Nox members were used to this sort of brutality—we signed up for it. Me, however, I don't think I'd ever get used to it.
Twin #2 raises his head, catching me staring. He makes an animalistic sound, a growl or sorts that causes me to shudder.
"Wanna' join in?"
"N-N-No, thank you." I stammer, leaving out the name.
I always mix up which twin is which—despite their stark contrast in appearance. Mister Aiden, for one, is softer in appearance but juxtaposed in temperament. He's the meaner of the both, being the eldest and that—Russel told me. Kaiden is the quieter twin, but goddamn is he hard to look at. A long scar runs from his neck and down onto his chest—which is visible with his open shirt.
Some girls in the statistics section said that Spades's father caused the shot, but no one really believes that garbage rumour.
"Sir, is Spades around? I need to give him my findings."
"Why do we hire you kids if you don't have a splinter of self-fucking-awareness?" Twin #1 groans, pointing behind them. "He's right there."
On the wall behind the pair, I lock eyes with the man I'm looking for. Sheepishly diving around the pair who continue to torture the poor soul, I scurry over to Spades who surveys me with boredom.
"Sir, the findings from today." I pass him the file. "Is that all?"
"Yes, thanks Valentin." He shrugs, stacking the file on top of a tray next to him with the utmost ease. "If that's all you got for me, you can log another couple hours. A few more days and you'll become an officer. Well done."
"Thank you, Sir!"
My excitement is short lived when I spy Russel by the the door, looking at me with envy that could stake me on the spot. It's then I remember what I needed to see him for.
"Oh, Sir. There's a woman that would like to see you."
"I've told you before, Valentin." Russel cuts in before Spades can even say anything. "Women are just looking for social standing. Don't even bother entertaining Spades with this."
"No, wait-"
"He's right, Valentin." Spades shakes his head, already turning away to continue his previous conversation with the twins. "You should know not to trouble me with these things-"
"She said to meet at the devil's circuit!"
Spades stops.
He stops?
For me?
Spades just stopped for me.
Spades doesn't stop for anyone.
He spins on his heel towards me with a adrenaline filled rush, grabbing me roughly by the arm and tugging me back towards the wall. He turns his back to Russel as he covertly threatens me.
"If you want to keep you job, as well as your ass alive—you better tell me where and who this woman was."
"S-She had two daughters with her—one of them was chasing after me so she had to retrieve her."
Spades expression becomes confused, then relieved—the confused again as he sinks onto the wall.
"Please tell me—" He breathes. "—That this girl didn't have white hair and red eyes."
"No."
He's looks relieved again.
"I think she dyes it blue at the bottom, but her outgrowth is white and her eyes are red."
His face collapses.
"Thank you for this, Valentin." Spades kicks of the wall, shoving his hands in his pockets. "She didn't happen to give you a time?"
"She said you'd know."
"Of course she did, lazy piece of shit."
***
Spades's POV
Deam never liked waking up early.
You'd never believe the backlash she'd give me when I made her wake up before the sun rose to do our regular morning run around the Outer Town wall. I'd barge into her room—without an invitation to my dismay—and shake her out of bed, only to be met with a knife at my neck or a gun at my chest.
I stand now, at the devil's circuit, lovingly named by her and her alone—an abandoned race track which I—the devil—would make her run up and down the steep hill that acted as one of the racing circuits. It's the early afternoon, the time of day I'd give her as a good behaviour present. She'd be able to reap in a few more hours of sleep, and we'd meet here at 12 to start the rounds before patrol in the evening.
The gravel and open air makes fond memories arise for me, as well as guilty ones. I'd had enough nervous encounters from meeting Deam after long periods of time, it's basically a ritual now.
You killed her.
I slick my hair back, my fingers shaking as it moves through the strands.
I killed her.
"Spades."
"Just say what you have to say." I say to the horizon, not looking behind me towards her voice. "Say what you have to say, and then I'll share my share."
I'm scared.
I'm scared of how to look at her.
The last time she came back, I could barely recognise her. She turned into something I never knew she could become.
A lady of the court.
It makes me shiver. She had her hair cut prim and proper, her uniform done up all neatly and shit. She was wearing high heels, walked like a woman who owned the joint and spoke like she was actually educated.
That's not an insult, that's just fact.
"Well?" I swallow. "Go ok then."
"You first." She says, shuffling against the ground. "Please. Based on what you say, my plan might change."
"Your plans are always changing, Deam. Or is that your name now? Maybe is Merida, or Charlie, or Abigail-"
"It's just Deam." She states.
"Well, just Deam—" I start. "—ever since you left, again, the world's gone haywire. Things are topsy turvy, everything's upside down and we've had to force ourselves to get use to it. And to be honest, I was a jealous of you. You left to make a life for yourself—you had the ability to do so. But..."
There's more scuffling behind me.
"But I'm glad. I'm glad you left. You deserved more than that life. For god's sake, I killed you!" I'm yelling now, the sole of my boot grinding into the ground. "I killed you, and I'm sorry. Aiden told me about your ability—and for fucks sake, if you didn't have it, your blood would've been on my hands."
Inching closer to turning, I spot her concerned reds out of the corner of my eye—her hair lifted in the wind like Columbus cloud that hover above mountains.
"I don't expect you'll forgive me—"
"—Meet Spades, he was one of mama's co-workers." She cuts in, turning her head slightly to look at someone else.
My eyes land to the far right, to what Deam holds in her arms with the utmost care and affection. It stares with me with big, round eyes.
Not it.
A girl.
"Spades, this is Clover—my daughter."