Dax wasn’t really sure Bast’s assumptions were true, but she got the sudden sense their souls knew one another. His pass at her felt like something written in stone. It certainly wasn’t the first time she’d rebuffed him.

  Eerie. Caneboro had some things going for it. No one like this guy around, especially with Merril gone — Crow. Someone barely my brother anymore. Orswyth felt even weirder in the flesh. Geirkos is full of ancient ghosts it seems. But… there’s Canmore. Canny. Ha. Yeah. He told me I could call him Canny.

  “Got a broken heart left in Caneboro, then, Dame?” Bast asked curiously.

  “What?” She felt a bit ‘caught’ because she had been thinking about the stud muffin. “Oh! No! No, of course not.”

  Bast squinted his eyes. “ ‘Of course not?’ What do you mean by that?”

  “Nothing! I misspoke. The answer is simply: nope. No time, that’s all.”

  Bast pursed his lips briefly. “Right. Because… you do know that you’re a brilliant catch, right? A naturally gorgeous, rare gem of a redhead? A ruby.”

  Dax felt her cheeks start to burn. “You can shut the fuck up now, Bast.” The words were not playful at all.

  Bast immediately held up his hands in defensive surrender, acknowledging the obvious danger zone he’d dove into. “Apologies. I know it’s out of line, but I thought you should know. I’d guess you haven’t been told due to your… intimidating presence. Like that glare right this second. Phew.”

  Dax was indeed glaring actual murder like only she could when pissed. Ruby? What the fuck is he on about? Toothless flattery. Probably still taking long shots at a quick lay. “Whatever. Just drop it. Now.”

  Without replying or meeting her eyes, Bast winced and began nodding his head back and forth slowly.

  His words still messing with her, she reached over and grabbed the glass of rum to down it.

  The door suddenly opened behind her as someone burst in. Instantly, they could be heard to stop dead. “Oh. Sorry- I just, uh…”

  Dax turned to see a pale young woman in a half-robe, half-dress style of attire that immediately pegged her as a wizardly sort. Or a ‘nerd’ as Merril — Crow — would say. She had a gloomy look about her, with midnight hair, black eyeliner, and a face that somehow suited both, as if a shadow were cast over it.

  “Ah, you must be Ash!” Bast called, and in a relieved way as if salvation had arrived. He rose and cast his arms out as if he was going to receive a hug. “A true pleasure to finally behold and meet you.”

  Ash, huh?

  The girl did an awkward yet earnest curtsy with her dress, as if unaccustomed to such things but determined to try. “Likewise, Lord Bast,” she answered with surprising smoothness for her age and demeanor. “I’m very sorry to intrude, though. I admit I cheated a bit to track you down without asking anyone. I was just- well, never mind.”

  Just as her eyes turned to Dax, Dax smiled politely and offered, “I can see why you’re called Ash, I suppose. Nicely done on those eyes. I’m…” She trailed off because the girl’s eyes had gone wide staring back at her. “Uh, are you okay?”

  Ash stared unblinking like she was looking at a ghost she didn’t believe was really there. “Dax,” she muttered breathlessly, almost strangled-sounding. “But you’re… dead.”

  Dax flashed a winning grin. “Ah, that’s the confusion! Well, rumors of my death are greatly exaggerated. Haha! Our ruse sure worked well if it even got some of our own. New, I take it?”

  Ash did not react at first, continuing to stare. Awareness finally fluttered over her eyes, and she nodded slightly. She tore her eyes away, swallowed once, and mumbled, “I’m sorry, I-I have to- I have something-... yes.” Her eyes flashed over both of them without really looking, she curtsied stiffly, then turned and rushed back out the door, leaving it swinging open.

  Dax looked over at Bast in confusion, who was also squinting his eyes in puzzlement. He met her eyes and gave an eyebrow-raising expression that said, ‘I have no clue, either.’

  He’s actually way more curious than I am. Let him figure it out.

  Sighing, Dax shrugged the oddity off and stood, straightening her clothes and giving Bast a once over. “Hey. Water under the bridge, Dandyman. Okay? Just keep that kind of shit to yourself and we’re good as gravy. I might need a good tumble, but that’s my business and you’re not my type.”

  “Duly noted, Dame Firebrand. I leave yours to you.”

  She chuckled. “Okay. Alright. That nickname I can handle.”

  They nodded in understanding to one another and Dax exited out of the convenient open door.

  Odd bedfellows with a bunch of weirdos again. What a surprise. I don’t care, though. I just want to purge this fucking itch in my back. Coursing through my bloody veins! I’m not going anywhere, but I have to do something that’s mine. I’m going to explode if I don’t scratch this somehow. I can’t shut it up, now that I’m back in the saddle.

  The word emphasis was strange and too intense in her head. It worried her that she was going a bit mad. But that was probably to be expected in a crazy ass world full of madcaps, many of whom she was in bed with.

  The story has been taken without consent; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

  Clowns to the left of me and jokers to the right! Here I am, stuck in the middle with-…

  Someone, she was sure. But she had no answer yet for who, and it made her feel like she was losing her mind — like she was just another fool.

  Ruby, my ass.

  ??············???···········??

  Ash rushed away from the room, destabilized like nothing before by suddenly being confronted with the raw, present existence of her big sister. She didn’t even think about where she was going. She just ran.

  Her big sister. Still alive. Not dead. Her thoughts rolled in redundancy on this fact because reality was hard to believe. A death she’d not even cried over, the programming in her head ‘at the time’ instructing her to consider it as deserved for a worthless rebel, just as her little (yet technically older) brother deserved. At least she could say she struggled with some sadness over it. Regret for the waste. Both of them had potential. She always knew that.

  But she’d abandoned them to their own fates to pursue her career. Objectively, she understood her reasoning then. The visions, and the need not only to avoid them being caught up in it, but the general requirement to detach oneself in order to even be one of the Sages.

  She plopped in the dirt far outside the building, off and away in the general barrenness of the plantation ruins. She’d come to the spot before as a quick isolated locale, its sense of destruction somehow comforting. A rich, dead history. That was her preference — something that didn’t change, that was entirely under her control, ready for study and perusal at leisure.

  Her life had been anything but. Right then, it felt like it was dispersed into particulates. Fractured, with the pieces drifting further away. She felt fake. An unreal husk of an imposter puppeted from somewhere beyond. It was someone else’s life and she’d left herself — her true self — somewhere else.

  Her hands dug into the dirt and gripped so hard they hurt and shook. Tears welled in her eyes. She hated them. She didn’t understand them. They shouldn’t really be. They were stupid. Like the scream she wanted to make and couldn’t. As ridiculous as how she wanted to care and…

  Didn’t. Before. Right? Do I care? Maybe I can’t. Maybe I’m faking it. Maybe it’s too late.

  She was probably better off with them. The Sages. A tool ever carving with precision as instructed. All was clear under their order. Ambiguity was laid bare. Doubt could be given over to be slain. Congratulations were in order when one confessed because accepting correction was a step toward perfection.

  But the visions returned. My curse. One that made me nothing more than a coward running from it. What I ‘had’ to do. Expediency. What led me to serve the very people I thought caused the death of my own family. The last I know of my own flesh and blood! And I accepted it. I kept serving them without a thought. If I had accepted my fate… I could’ve been consistent. Instead of a worthless hypocrite.

  Some part of her wished Samantha was available because she needed her. Who else could she confess to? But another part said she deserved to be without. Just a small, small part of the suffering she was due.

  If Dax knew, she’d demand it. Perhaps that’s the answer. She could beat me bloody for my betrayal. Cast me out herself. And Merril… wait. Where is Merril?

  Anxiety was a sudden punch that made her sit up and drop the dirt balled up in her aching hands.

  She couldn’t help herself. She had to know. Had to. She collected herself and contacted Jeeves immediately. “Jeeves. Good day to you. I’d like to inquire about something. Are you by chance familiar with the one-time fugitive, Merril, brother to Daxerris? Does he still live, like Daxerris herself?”

  Jeeves was immediately not fooled by her act. Concern filtered through. “You seem distressed, Ash. Do you need assistance? I can send someone to you. Name them, or I can pick. Perhaps a Servitor, if you prefer.”

  Ash fought off both her annoyance and her sudden weakness, in desire for just what was suggested. But it remained true that she was close to no one. “No thank you, Jeeves. I’m fine. However, it would satiate my curiosity to receive an answer to my existing question.”

  The butler almost sighed. “Merril lives, just as his sister does. He is an instrumental part of our organization. In fact, you might say he bears resemblance to a figure on the Death card — if you take my meaning? And you’ve met him, if briefly and mentally. He is now known as Crow.”

  Ash felt bonked over the head by the idiot hammer for the second time. She was shocked and incredulous. “That’s impossible! I did meet him, and he's not-... he…”

  The feeling of a crooked eyebrow was heavy in the mental spaces. “Yes?”

  “Well! Uh. He just doesn’t… the description! I didn’t see him, see him, but he, um, just didn’t seem to fit my prior — admittedly out-of-date — understanding of his identity.”

  “Right. Yes.” Jeeves was clearly suspicious of her, now. “He had something of a supernatural transformation, Ash. The change was extensive in every fashion. Why is he of such interest to you? Did you investigate him and his sister in the past, or is there some other connection?”

  Ash almost blew this off along the same lines, and then she realized that she was already effectively lying to Jeeves. It made her feel guilty in a way she couldn’t bear right then. She sighed inwardly, dropping her head in the real world, and committed within herself to tell the truth. “Can you hold something in absolute confidence, Jeeves?”

  “Is it something that Samantha should know?”

  She had to consider that for a long spell. “I don’t know, honestly. Nor do I know if I should keep the secret at all. I don’t know anything, Jeeves. I’m just… lost.”

  This time, Jeeves really did sigh. “We’ll decide together, Ash. How’s that? It’s what we do.”

  Ash took a deep breath and nodded. Mostly to herself. “Jeeves, I’m their sister. The one that abandoned them to become a Sage. I thought they were dead, and… I just kept doing what I was doing. I’m… I’m scum. You see? I’m the sort of fucking scum that betrays her own family just to save her own ass!”

  Bast is fortunate not to come away with sword-holes from that particular encounter.

  Next Chapter...

  After Ash deals, we move on back to a certain new face in Caneboro...

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