Feargus

  Days Until it Happens: ???

  Crew Placement: ???

  I didn’t know how long I'd been asleep, but the reason I woke up freezing was because every inch of the stone cellar was covered in a layer of thin ice. Icicles lined the ceiling, the archways, and the shelves along the walls, and flowers of all colours and sizes were preserved in blocks of ice. Mates, it would have been beautiful if the room weren’t also filled with handsome young chaps in finely tailored suits, long since dead and also encased in ice. Dozens, and dozens, and judging by the fact I woke up wearing a finely tailored suit, too, I had to figure I’d be next.

  Furthermore, why was my face so cold? Something felt different. I touched my cheeks, and my beard was gone. I touched my hair next. It had been trimmed and styled, but it was still there, at least.

  So, I wasn’t locked up which, in my opinion, was scarier than being locked up. My captor had to be feeling pretty confident, and there was something sadistic in giving me a sense of freedom in what was obviously a prison. But there was something sadistic about the dozens of dead lads keeping me company, too. What could I do? I wasn’t sure yet.

  I wandered the room, blowing into my hands. The cellar door was locked, obviously, dead-bolted and entirely defensible against picks, which I didn’t have. The basement was enormous, and I hadn’t explored it all yet, but I had a sneaking suspicion my bag, and therefore all my things, were with Florea.

  That was tremendously bad, see, because my bag contained the reports I’d written for Faust. I’d basically handed the Anima profiles for all my mates. I could have hidden them somewhere in the cabin, but the cabin was more vulnerable than I was—or at least I’d thought—and I wasn’t often home. I needed to know where they were, and now—

  I blew in my hands again before shoving them into each side of my vest.

  But after scouring every inch of the cellar for a way out, a trick mechanism, a tool—anything to get me out of my predicament, the cold, hard truth sunk in right quick. I was trapped. And who’d even know I was missing?

  

  An Interview With Everleigh Gloom

  “Thank you so much for sitting down with me today, Everleigh.”

  “We’ve been writing this book together the whole time. Why don’t I write a chapter. Why are we doing this.”

  “I thought this would be more fun.”

  “…”

  “Now, Everleigh—let’s go back to that fateful event. I realize it might be difficult to talk about, but—”

  “It’s not.”

  “Oh, good. So, tell me: how long was it exactly before you noticed I was missing?”

  “I didn’t.”

  “I’m sorry, could you repeat that, please?”

  “I didn’t notice you were missing. I thought you were busy.”

  “The people might want to remind you that when you were busy and missing, I found you.”

  “Then the people need to know what was really going on.”

  “The people are dying to hear it, I’m sure.”

  “Okay. Well, I was in my office the day after you were taken, and like always, it was cold and damp.”

  “Go on.”

  “V came to see me. Everybody knew she rarely left the inn, so I was surprised to see her. She said you didn’t show up for your quilting lesson, and that she was worried.”

  “It wasn’t a lesson. It was a date.”

  “Okay. It had only been a day since she or I had seen you, so at first I thought she was overreacting. But not long after she left, there was another knock on my office door. It was Florea with my flower delivery.”

  “The people might be wondering: did you know about Florea’s hobby at the time?”

  “No. The Florist operated on his own, like the Tragers and Alexander. All I knew was that he was really old, and that he was supposedly rehabilitated.”

  “Thank you for clarifying. So, Florea showed up with your flower delivery. What then?”

  “I took my flowers and I paid him.”

  “…”

  “But before he left, there was another knock on my door. It was one of the Hollow.”

  “The Hollow?”

  “The bad Anima.”

  “I see. Thank you.”

  “Okay. So, the Hollow said Florea could stay, that the information she had might affect him, too. She was there to tell me they’d put an official bounty on you and your friends.”

  “Can you explain for the people what exactly an official bounty in this context means?”

  “The Hollow have a process for deciding who runs the game, and since Lidia Roska was dead, they needed someone new to distract the Partisans from everyone else. Nobody wanted to be the game master.”

  “…”

  “…”

  “You’re saying the Hollow promised the bounty hunter immunity from being chosen as the next game master?”

  “Historically, the Hollow did better than the Partisans in these cycles. I’d been told it was usually a fight over who’d get to be the game master. But not that time. Lidia Roska had been it for so long, I think they got comfortable hiding behind her. And they were scared of your friends. Nobody wanted to do it.”

  This narrative has been purloined without the author's approval. Report any appearances on Amazon.

  “Thank you, Everleigh, on behalf of the people. Now, how did Florea react to hearing this news?”

  “He didn’t. He listened, kissed my hand like he always does, and he left my office with the Hollow. At that point, I still didn’t have any reason to think you were missing. But I thought it was important you knew about the bounty, so I went to your cabin. When you weren’t there, I left.”

  “That’s it, you just left?”

  “Aye. Like I said, I thought you were busy.”

  “Thank you, Everleigh. More on that later. For now, let’s see how things were progressing in the ice room.”

  The hours came and went, and I spent most of those hours looking for anything I might have missed. I thought about screaming, but what good would that do? Even if a customer heard me, I could be putting them in danger if they tried to help. Besides, I didn’t even know for sure I was in the basement of the flower shop. Florea had been able to groom and dress me, so he could have easily moved me, too.

  Meanwhile, I did what I could to stay warm. My suit was a bit big for a Strachan, so I tucked myself in as best I could, pulled my arms up into the sleeves of my jacket, and huddled in the corner. While I shivered, I looked around the room at the lads encased in ice. Why wasn’t I enclosed yet? He’d had me vulnerable and unconscious, so why was I still alive? Well, I reckoned from how groggy I was feeling, that I’d been drained, and he was keeping me alive for now so he could sustain his power. He’d need it to keep the room frozen, and—

  His flowers could have been imported from Delphia, or—

  Could it be? Aye, I reckoned it could. The idea that Florea was using people’s life force to restore dead flowers was the exact right amount of Amalia absurdity. But why? It couldn’t just be about the business, could it? He said I’d look beautiful on display, and morbid as it was, he’d taken great care in the way he’d styled and posed all the lads. From where I was sitting, it wasn’t just about preserving them, it was also about revering them.

  What had he lost that he was trying to replace? Or what was he scared to let go of?

  I looked around for more clues.

  The young lads were all dressed in a more modern, high-fashion style, like something you’d see in Delphia. Why had he chosen that style in particular? His name was strange, too—Florea. Not typically an Amali name, unless it was a moniker. But it wasn’t a Delphi name, or an Endican one, or a Celestian one. And the man certainly wasn’t a Senec or a Strachan. Anyhow, the thought wasn’t going anywhere, so I dropped it for the time being. Other than that, mates, there really wasn’t anything. Just blocks of ice filled with people and flowers, and me.

  Though the cellar was frozen, it wouldn’t stay that way forever. There were already droplets of water dripping from the icicles, and the enclosures were slick instead of frosty. Florea would have to be back soon.

  I waited around the corner from the cellar door, thinking that when it opened I might be able to make a break for it. But the door was heavier and less springy than I anticipated, and it closed fast behind Florea when he returned. Fortunately for me, it probably didn’t look like I’d been trying to run—just that I’d come around the corner quickly. This was important because if I was to buy myself some time, I reckoned I’d have to be a good boy.

  But what do you even say? I wasn’t sure, so I smiled winningly as if I were happy to see him.

  That wasn’t a reaction I reckoned he got very often, and I clocked a beat when he hesitated with his own response. I could almost hear the questions running through his head. Why isn’t he running? (I tried.) Why doesn’t he look scared? (I was.) Why is he looking at me like that? (I was quite obviously checking him out on purpose.)

  And mates, you’ll never believe what the first thing he said to me was.

  “Are you hungry?” he asked.

  “Usually,” I answered.

  He reached into a messenger bag and pulled out something wrapped in brown paper. I recognized it as one of the sandwiches from The Silver Spoon. They only did sandwiches on Fifth Day, and I was captured on Third Day. At least now I had some sense of time. Florea unwrapped the sandwich for me before handing it over.

  “Thank you,” I said, taking a bite. It was chicken, and it was a bit dry. I wasn’t worried about poison, that’d be a weird way to kill me when he could just drain me. Besides, I still had a mind to think he’d keep me alive for a while.

  While I ate, Florea stood by the door, still watching.

  “Say, do you have anything to drink in that bag?” I asked when I was done. “I’m a bit thirsty.”

  Florea regarded me in silence for a moment before he made his way to one of the nearby shelves. He snapped off an icicle and handed it to me.

  Was he seriously suggesting I suck on an icicle? My life, mates. So, I had two options: I could suck like I’d never sucked before, or—

  I snapped off the tip and put it in my mouth.

  “So, this suit is quite nice,” I said. “Where’d you get your inspiration?”

  “From a time when people didn’t dress like vagrants.”

  “Well, I for one appreciate the aesthetic.”

  My hand was freezing, and the icicle was melting all over it. It really wasn’t my finest hour. Seeing as I didn’t have any crackers, I snapped another piece off and popped it in my mouth.

  Florea came up to me then, and he cupped my beardless cheek in his hand. “One shouldn’t hide a face like yours.”

  “Aye, been thinking about shaving it off but I kept waffling. Sometimes you just need someone to make a decision for you, you know? Thanks, mate.”

  The Florist’s upper lip twitched, barely enough to clock it. That was my cue to dial it back a bit.

  “I’m Jack, by the by. I guess we should have established that before we fucked.”

  His lip twitched again, but this time he was restraining a smirk. I saw it in his eyes.

  I made a mental node to keep crude humour in my arsenal. And I knew he was watching me as well as I was watching him, so keeping myself unpredictable was a priority. But I also couldn’t just throw a bunch of rice at the wall and hope some might stick. He wasn’t saying much, either, so that didn’t help.

  He patted my cheek and stepped away.

  As soon as he did, I feigned hurt—did I say something wrong? Had I upset him? Why wasn’t he touching me anymore? I caught him looking my way, so I ran my hand over my cheek, as if I were imagining it was his. Another concealed snarl, but that one wasn’t directed toward me. He lingered one, two seconds more before he began pacing the room. The temperature dropped around him, and anything that had started to melt along the way, froze up solid again.

  Whatever The Florist was doing in that room, whatever his cycle was, there was an emotional centre. There always was. If I could just—

  “How long do I have?” I asked.

  He turned on his heel.

  “Longer in here than out there. At least what I’ll be doing to you is painless.”

  At least. “It’s all about those small mercies, am I right?”

  Florea nodded.

  “Bit boring, though. All the waiting. You wouldn’t happen to have a book or something, would you?”

  He stopped in front of one of the encased lads, buffing the ice in front of his face with the sleeve of his white shirt. He’d eventually go around and do that to all of them. “Do you always talk this much?”

  “Aye. We Strachan are a chatty lot. I don’t suppose you’ve met many of us, have you?”

  “No.”

  Finally, a straight answer.

  As you know, the Anima tended to specialize, and Florea was quite obviously an elementalist. Still, I kept my guard up while he was around, and though I was reasonably confident he didn’t have access to my thoughts at the moment, I couldn’t be sure how tapped into my feelings he was.

  “Well,” I said, “if we aren’t going to talk, and you don’t have a book, can we at least have sex again?”

  Florea hesitated next to one of the encased men, looking to me. “Why?” he asked, and the question seemed almost reflexive.

  “I might as well make the most of what’s left of my life. I had loads of fun, and you’re incredibly hot.”

  His jaw tensed and he swallowed hard. That answered that—he wasn’t tapped too far into my feelings if he was buying what I was selling. I mean, he really was gorgeous, but I definitely didn’t want to sleep with him again. I also had no interest in getting naked. It was freezing, and I couldn't manipulate my body temperature like he could.

  Florea began unbuttoning his vest while he approached me tentatively, suggesting two things. One, I didn’t think he was going to sexually assault me if I were to be rendered unconscious again. Two, from where I was standing, he enjoyed being desired, not feared.

  He was topless now, having shed his shirt and vest. And that’s when I saw something I couldn’t have seen during our romp because we’d kept most of our clothes on. On the left side of his chest, Florea had a tattoo of a rose and a pair of initials. But there was no way—was there? It wasn't like Sebastian Vonsinfonie owned the letters S and V.

  Right?

  Right...?

  ...Right?