12. Locke
LOCKE
“Don’t you pass out on me, Vesper! Vesper!” Her body slumps as I quickly smear the weak healing paste on her bite wounds. “Fuck!”
Purple bruises quickly begin to mark up her skin everywhere I can see them.
She’s completely black and blue within minutes, appearing as if she’d been beaten within an inch of her life.
Harrow, I don’t know how she survived as long as she did, not with that thing squeezing the fucking life out of her.
If I can at least get her to heal, just a little, maybe I can save her. Maybe something I do can matter.
We don’t have to follow the Dross mentality here.
She’s right. We don’t. And somehow, I’ve started to enjoy her company. I can’t let her die, not when she’s the first person to ever watch my back.
“I don’t know what to do,” I mumble frantically. “I don’t know how to help.”
I check my inventory. Nothing. I haven’t been picking up anything, so all I have is my jacket, the blunt sword, and the three Harrow Coins Vesper had shared with me.
Nothing to heal except the paste and it doesn’t seem to be working for internal injuries.
She must have so many and I’m going to be forced to watch her die.
I stare down at Vesper, panicking. Her shoulder looks wrong, like it’s popped out of socket.
Her breathing is rough and ragged, her chest rising and falling in stutters. And then the bruising . . .
“She’s going to die,” Cipher says, suddenly popping into my mind.
“Now you show up?” I snarl. “I was screaming for you!”
“I’m not a dog to be called,” Cipher grunts.
“But I am?” I spit.
I wish there was a face I could look into for this.
I’d been out cold. My head is still aching and there’s a bit of blood on the back of it where I’d hit the wall.
But within the darkness, I’d heard Cipher yelling at me to get my ass up, to, “make myself useful for once.” He hadn’t been there when I’d woken up, retreating to let me beat at the snake like a fucking lunatic.
He could have helped her some other way. Instead, he’d let her die.
“Yes,” Cipher answers. “You are nothing in this. A casualty of war.”
“And what about Vesper?” I snarl. “Is she a casualty, too?”
I already know the answer. Cipher has taken a liking to Vesper, coaching her in a way that he hasn’t done with me.
Past the initial welcome and explanation, he’d just left instructions behind that I couldn’t be bothered to read all of.
They must not be important if he doesn’t care to explain.
But with Vesper, he’s talked to her the entire time.
“No,” Cipher admits, “but my hands are tied so to speak.”
“Tell me how to help her,” I grunt. “At least you can do that.”
Cipher hums. “You could just leave her,” he says. “She’s dying. Take the loot and go. You have no responsibility to her or to me.”
ACHIEVEMENT UNLOCKED
You defeated your first minor boss. Congratulations. You didn’t die. Now you can get a sweet snake tattoo and tell everyone you killed it with your bare hands.
REWARD: this loot crate. Go on and take it all. You deserve it.
“To you, no,” I grunt, eyeing the chest that suddenly appears floating above the snake’s head. “To her, I do.”
“Is this the sort of loyalty you displayed in Dross?” Cipher asks curiously.
“No,” I admit.
I look around me, searching for something to help. I wish there was a face I could see while talking to Cipher. He sounds like he has a very punchable face. Instead, my anger is left to fester with no outlet.
“Are you going to help me or not?” I spit, my body starting to vibrate with fury.
Cipher hesitates. “I cannot interfere, not fully. What I can do, however . . . is tell you that the safehouse is one hundred meters deeper inside the cave in a norther direction. You will need to cross the river.”
“Is there something in the safehouse that can help her?” I ask, grabbing the loot chest and putting it away in my inventory without opening it.
After a moment, I do the same to Vesper’s arrows.
She’s going to want those back. Then I carefully scoop the woman into my arms, careful not to jostle her too much as I cradle her against my chest. Her body doesn’t feel right, almost swollen, and the shoulder cracks and pops as I move her, making me wince, but it can’t be helped. Not until I get her some help.
“You must get to the safehouse,” Cipher says instead of answering my question. “Quickly. In approximately three minutes, the river will breach its banks and begin to fill the caverns.”
“You could have fucking led with that,” I hiss, moving over to the edge of the river.
It’s flowing fast, fast enough to sweep me off my feet if I’m not careful.
I can’t swim, and I’d never been one to hunt resources near the under-tunnels where Wastrels sometimes risked the disease in the water for a good time.
If I lose my footing, we’re in trouble. I ease down into the water, the warmth of it enveloping me as I step down through the middle.
The water comes up to my waist and then rises until we’re both in the water.
Vesper’s black hair flows around her, but I do my best to keep her face above the threat of drowning.
I ease us across the water as quickly as I can, my boots digging into rocks and sand at the bottom.
It takes brute strength, and a few times, I almost lose my footing, but I manage to keep on my feet until the river begins to grow shallower again.
“Two minutes,” Cipher warns.
I reach the other side and push out of the water, droplets running off us as I clomp my way onto land again.
My boots are heavy with water, but I ignore the feeling as my feet squelch with each step.
I aim for the cave opening in front of me, moving as quickly as I can, but my ankle is twinged from the fight and it threatens to collapse under my weight, Vesper’s, and our wet clothes.
“One minute,” Cipher chips in again. “You must move faster or you both are going to die.”
“How much further is it?” I grit out.
“Twenty meters.”
I push myself despite the aches and pain, determined to save this woman who refused to let me die. She’s done nothing but help me. The least I can do is return the favor. Besides, I made her a promise I’d watch her back.
“How quaint,” Cipher says. “You are capable of compassion, after all.”
“You know, you’re a real asshole,” I grunt.
In front of me, a glowing door appears and I rush toward it.
“Fifteen seconds,” Cipher says. The cave walls start to rumble around me. “I suggest you make hast.”
“No shit,” I snarl, reaching the door. I kick at it, but it doesn’t move.
I balance Vesper in my arms and turn the knob, trying to manage her and the door all at once.
It turns and the door opens. Behind me, the rumble turns into a roar and I glance behind me just in time to see a wall of water rushing our way.
“Fuck!” I shout, shoving the door open and leaping inside.
I hit Vesper’s head on the doorjamb and wince, but it’s better than leaving her to drown.
I turn, trying to kick the door closed, but I don’t make it in time.
“FUCK!” I close my eyes, expecting the water to slam into me through the doorway, but after a few seconds of nothing happening, I crack my eyes open again.
The water is crashing against the open doorway, but it stops right at the entrance, as if it’s crashing against an invisible wall. Just like the howler monkeys had. It’s crashing against the walls outside, but it never enters. My shoulders relax at the sudden feeling of safety.
Only then do I realize the safehouse I’d just crashed inside isn’t empty.
I turn and get a good look at just how many people are inside the . . .
“Is this a fucking bar?” I ask, flabbergasted.
The bartender looks at me with a raised brow. He’s dressed in a strange outfit, nothing like Dross, so I’m not sure if he’s a player or not. I assume a player wouldn’t be running a bar. “Aye. And a restaurant,” he answers me. “What’re you having?”
I look from him to the other strange . . . people sitting around the large room. Some of them look like other players, but others . . . I’m not sure they’re human. “Uh . . .”
“Looks like the lady needs some healing,” a man sitting at the bar says. He looks like a player, his clothing similar to mine and Vesper’s. “Did you try to kill her?”
“What? No!” I growl. The man’s eyes shoot up in surprise. “I’m trying to save her. Is there something to heal her with?”
The bartender nods. “Safehouses enable healing and prevent death if the injuries are less than ninety percent fatal. Just place her in one of the beds and let it do its job. She’ll be right as rain in a few hours.”
My shoulders relax. “Thank you,” I breathe, rushing toward the doors he points me toward. After a few steps, I realize the other player from the bar is trailing behind me, his glass in his hand. I glance at him over my shoulder.
“You got a problem?” I ask him, narrowing my eyes.
He throws back the rest of his glass and sets it on the counter. “She’s asleep, ain’t she? Out cold, I’d wager.”
I bare my teeth at him. “I suggest you go back to that bar and take your seat before you make the mistake you’re thinking about.”
He laughs. “We’re both men here,” he reasons. “She’s certainly a looker, even with all that bruising. What’s a few more bruises added in?”
I tense, my body vibrating with anger. “She ain’t a fucking toy. Fuck off, asshole, before I chop your dick off and feed it to the Boiúna.”
He doesn’t know the boss is dead, a fact that’s clear when he holds up his hands and backs toward the bar. “Alright, alright, fucker,” he grunts. “Didn’t know you were sweet on the bitch. Just thought we could share, just us men.”
“If you’re still here when I come back out, I’m going to gut your ass,” I warn him. “I suggest you make yourself scarce.”
The other player scoffs. “Fucking pussy licker.”
I ease backwards, making sure he isn’t following, before I turn back toward the rows of doors. Still, I keep checking to make sure he doesn’t follow. I don’t put it past the bastard to try and knock me over the head when I’m not looking.
The first few doors are locked, clearly occupied, but the third one is open.
Inside is a small, raised bed and a table.
One the other side of it, there’s a place to relieve yourself and a large white basin.
I don’t worry about any of that right now.
I just gently lay Vesper in the bed, careful not to fuck with her messed up shoulder.
She doesn’t make any noise as I set her down, even with all her injuries.
She’s still wet from the river, her clothing sticking to her.
I take off her boots and drop them to the floor.
Water splashes out of them onto the flooring, leaving dark spots in the pale gray material.
I eye her wet clothing, wondering if I should take those off, too.
“She won’t take kindly to realizing you took off her clothes,” Cipher warns.
“I have no desire to be stabbed with a blunt blade,” I answer, tucking the blankets around her so she doesn’t get cold at the very least. Then I turn toward the door.
“You’re not going to heal?” Cipher asks, surprised. “I thought you were at least more intelligent than that.”
“I’m going to have a drink,” I grunt. “And make sure that asshole doesn’t come anywhere near this room. Even if they lock behind me, I don’t want him waiting for her when she comes out. Now, let’s go back to normal where you stop talking to me and we pretend like you’re not playing favorites.”
Cipher hesitates. “As you wish, player number three million, six hundred and seventy-three thousand, five hundred, and seventeen.”
“That’s more like it,” I say, before taking a seat at the bar and getting the bartender’s attention. “Something strong enough to ease the pain.”
The bartender’s strange, bushy brows go up. “Coming right up.”
I’m two glasses in before I realize I probably should have asked what I’m drinking. I pass out before I can even get the words out.
Cipher is right. I’m an idiot . . .