Chapter 2
Reva
There’s a wild yell from somewhere downstairs, loud enough for it to carry right up to my room.
Frannie’s eyebrow shoots up. “What do you think it is this time?”
“Who knows?” I snort. “Finch’s crew is chaos personified at the best of times.”
Without another word, we step out of the room. There’s a chorus of joyful yells coming from the staircase so we head in that direction. Before we can take more than a couple of steps, there’s a screech from inside one of the many empty rooms and someone stumbles out, nearly gamboling into us.
“H-he appeared out of nowhere.” They stare at us with wide eyes, clutching their chest like they’ve seen a ghost.
“Oi.” Bones staggers out after them, covered from head to toe in ash. “Don’t you want to cuddle with the chimney sprite?” He’s putting on an odd high-pitched voice and wiggling his fingers as he follows after the other guy, when he spots us outside, he freezes and then grins.
“You like?” He gestures down at himself.
“What is happening?” Frannie mutters.
“Just a little peek-a-boo prank. Testing out Blacktooth’s reflexes in a stressful situation.”
“By hiding... up the chimney?” I guess.
Bones’ grin practically cracks his face. “Exactly.”
There’s another yip from the staircase, followed by a dull thud and a groan. The three of us share a bemused look before heading close enough to discover what is going on.
At least three members of the crew are throwing themselves face first down the bannister, one after another before landing in a heap at the bottom.
“These guys are insane,” Frannie murmurs.
Then someone passes beside us, clutching a towel to his bleeding head.
“Fucker was hiding under the damn floorboards. How could I not kick him in the face? It was instinct.” Dagger is following behind and gives us a beseeching look.
“Did someone sprinkle stupid powder onto your dinner or something? What is going on?” I ask.
“Just letting off steam,” Bones tells us with a sage nod. “Don’t tell Cookie I said this, but I wish we had eggs. Real ones, you know? Not those shitty dried ones.”
“Maybe we can get chickens,” the guy whose face is bleeding says as he passes by.
“Is he going to be all right?”
“Maybe you can lay a fat egg,” Bones calls after him.
“He’s bleeding right into his eye,” I continue, even though it’s clear no one is listening.
“He’s fine. Dagger will take him to the medic.”
Frannie shoots me a sideways look. “There isn’t a medic, is there?”
“We dug one out,” Bones replies. “And dusted him off. He’s upstairs.”
“Aster?” Frannie asks. “Is he your new medic?”
“The mute witch, yeah.”
“I’m going to ask again. What is going on here?” I mutter. “I was just down here and it was quiet. When did everyone lose their minds?”
“It’s been at least a day since they last had a fight or destroyed something,” a familiar voice says from beside us. “It can’t go much longer or it’ll be a record.”
I twist around to find Captain Finch right behind me.
He gives me a lopsided grin. “Although they’re supposed to be fixing up the place, not destroying it. But perhaps we could say they’re finding all the weak spots that require immediate attention. What do you say, love?”
“Aster’s going to be busy,” I reply.
Finch lets out a low chuckle that does interesting things to my insides. “Just a little bit of excess energy to get out after dinner. Don’t worry, they’ll tire themselves out soon enough.”
Then my skin tingles as someone else joins us at the bannister, and I just know without looking that it’s Aster.
“Lots of people heading your way, apparently,” Frannie tells him, earning herself a nod.
Aster reaches out as if to touch me on the forearm, just like we usually do to communicate, but then he pulls back like he’s uncertain if I’d accept his touch.
“They’ve been throwing themselves down the stairs,” I tell him quietly. “And hiding under floorboards. Someone might need a couple of stitches.”
“Hey mute man! We could do with your help over here,” someone yells from the bottom of the staircase, causing Aster to suck in a sharp breath.
“Don’t call him that.” Torin’s voice growls a reply without missing a beat, the sound echoing off the stone and bare floorboards.
It strikes me I could ask Aster right now for his help with my skin. I don’t know why I don’t.
It’s chaos, sure. But it’s always chaotic around here, so that’s not abnormal.
Maybe I’m a coward after all because the words just don’t come out. Not while there are so many distractions and other people standing around.
“Come find me once you’re done with this lot?” I say to him instead. “There’s something I want to talk to you about.”
Aster’s expression brightens so much, it makes my chest ache like a blunt knife is slowly twisting between my ribs. Our bond is dead, so how can he still affect me like this? One look, one smile, and it’s difficult to catch a full breath.
He opens his mouth to say something, but then there’s another pained yelp as someone’s carried bodily up the stairs in Torin’s strong arms.
“Another one for you to fix up,” he tells Aster grimly.
Aster
AFTER GETTING OUT OF the sorceress’s basement, I’ve been learning a lot about myself.
It’s funny how spending years in survival mode doesn’t lead to much development as a person. I feel like I got frozen in time as a young adult, like I’m stuck at twenty-two even though I’m so desperate to move on. To grow into something more than an empty shell.
One thing I’m learning is that I’m good at making people feel at ease.
And at mixing up potions. Maybe it’s because half of the crew hasn’t quite wrapped their heads around the fact I can now understand them, but they still mostly act like I’m not really there.
They chat away and spill their secrets like I’m an inanimate object, even when I’m stitching them up or giving them something to help with their issues.
The others don’t seem all that bothered whether I can understand them, they still ask for my help either way. Every dislocated shoulder and sliced up bit of flesh, they’ve been coming to me asking for help at all hours of the night.
... another thing I’ve learned about myself is that I like feeling useful. And I’m terrible at saying no to people.
Hence the potions. The splinters in my fingers and the gritty feeling in my eyes since every spell and potion seems to work better at midnight or by moonlight.
Every night over the past week, someone’s gotten injured or needed something in the middle of the night.
I’d suspect that they were hazing me, the newest guy on the crew.
But I’m pretty sure they all just happen to get particularly bored at night.
None of them switch off easily and their games and competitions go well into the early hours.
I might be terrible at saying no, but when it comes to choosing between the guys who repeatedly give themselves head injuries by smacking themselves headfirst into solid wood, or talking to Reva, there’s no contest.
So why am I letting Torin drag me along the hallway instead of staying with Reva? It’s the first time she’s looked at me, let alone spoken to me, since she found out I’d been lying to her from the first moment we met.
But before I can argue or drag my feet, I’m being ushered upstairs into the room I’ve turned into a makeshift clinic, slathering yet another healing potion onto the flesh above Blade’s eye.
Torin heads off to keep an eye on the rest of the rabble downstairs, leaving me to deal with a crew I can’t speak to. Not yet, anyway.
One benefit of not sleeping more than a couple of snatched hours before the nightmares begin is that I’ve got plenty of time on my hands. Time that I can spend listening to others’ conversations and practicing learning their language.
I knew it was only a matter of time before Reva wouldn’t be able to translate for me, and that time came quicker than I anticipated. But I’m learning. Slowly. Now that I’m able to understand the crew—courtesy of a magical aid Jack gave me—I’m getting more familiar with the language.
Another small step toward being not so useless around here.
“You’re a good egg, mute man.” Someone ruffles my hair, and I fight against an instinctive flinch at the unexpected contact.
One of the other crew slaps him on the back, and I wince. “We’re not supposed to call him that.”
“We’re not?”
“Tor said he’d snap my head off my neck if we didn’t stop.”
“Well, shit.”
I stifle a chuckle as they continue to talk about me as though I’m not in the room, right in front of them.
He’s not the last one to come into my makeshift med bay either.
Seems like playing stupid games really does lead to winning stupid prizes tonight.
In the next couple of hours, I deal with a splinter big enough to pierce right through one of the crew’s cheeks, a busted shoulder that needs a poultice, a couple of seriously dislocated fingers.
I work my tail off, hoping that each one will be the last so I can finally head downstairs and find Reva again. It feels like it must be the middle of the night by the time I’m finally done. I’m aching all over and it feels like my eyes are bruised when I blink.
Despite all that, energy surges through me as I bound down the second-floor staircase toward Reva’s room. It only hits me while I’m knocking on her door that I realise it’s probably far too late to disturb her.
There’s silence on the other side of the door, and I pause there.
Maybe I should have headed back to my room to change my shirt and wash my hands and face too.
Before I can slink away though, the door to the neighbouring room opens, and Frannie pokes her head out of the door.
“Well, hello there,” she says. “Reva’s downstairs, I think. ”
I give her a nod of thanks and a little wave before starting to head off to the kitchen.
“Aster. Hold on,” she hisses before thrusting a lit lantern into my hand. “So you don’t fall to your death on the stairs.”