9. Cheribelle #2
Not the biggest twist, but it certainly had me wondering why she was risking her own safety walking around the open part of the bazaar.
Or maybe she didn’t have to worry about being in danger here?
Interesting. Even though everyone we met so far had been varying levels of civil, the black market of illicit trades was more of a dog-eat-dog place rather than a safe haven for people to do their business.
It wasn’t exactly giving the Continental from John Wick vibes, after all.
“I believe you wanted to meet with me?” she said with a sly smile. While a lot of my brain was dedicated to keeping my expression pleasantly neutral, another part of it was calculating everything I could about her.
As far as I could tell, we weren’t stumbling into some sort of grand scheme. No, judging by her actions, her amusement, and well… everything, I got the impression that the woman was just bored.
Well, I could work with that.
“Yes. You see, word on the street is that you have information on a hit that went out yesterday, which we’re a bit late on.
A big-ticket one, that a ton of hired killers are going for.
Me and my partner here have been traveling a long time, and we’re tired of the little leagues.
We want to prove ourselves with a splash, you know? ”
The woman chuckled, but I was distracted from the sound when I saw little tendrils of technicolor amusement bleeding into the air around her.
Wait a minute now!
“Oh yes, I’ve had interesting tales reported to me about two outsiders going around to all sorts of trades, all different, yet somehow asking the same question. As amusing as those stories are, I’m more interested in the truth.”
Those tiny little wisps of levity grew stronger. With them were zigzagging shapes of bright-green interest zipping this way and that.
Shit! It’s not that she doesn’t have an emotional signature like whoever killed Paul’s father!
She was just masking.
It’s always the neurodivergents who will getcha . Pot meet kettle.
Wait, did I ever empty the dishwasher at home?
Well, so we hadn’t managed to randomly stumble across the master assassin who had pulled off the seemingly impossible.
That was a bummer. But that didn’t mean we couldn’t get any useful information from her at all.
I wished I could tell Paul I was wrong. She definitely wasn’t the person we were looking for.
“All right, you want the truth,” I said, doing a bunch of rapid calculations in my head to figure out how close I could dance to reality without giving away too much and putting us in more danger than we were already in.
“I’m a consultant of sorts, and this rich boy here is looking to get rid of some people without it being traced back to him.
When we heard about the hit recently put on a high-profile target, we figured whoever bagged that kill would be perfect for what we needed.
We were hoping to recruit that person, but we’re having a hard time even getting a lead on who to look out for. ”
I braced myself, hoping against hope that my story would fly.
Not for the first time, I was grateful for the improvisation exercises I’d done in drama club all throughout middle school and high school.
Coming up with a believable reason for why we’d been lying all night long that wouldn’t get us killed on the spot certainly wouldn’t have been easy without that training.
“And so, you just ended up at my door, coincidentally looking for this information? Or was the part about the trusted source true?”
Triple shit on a stick! I didn’t have enough information to know which was the better answer.
My mind zoomed off, trying to calculate that with what information I had.
And I couldn’t delay too long, because that would be way too suspicious.
So, I did the same thing I always did whenever I was in a pinch, I went with my gut.
“A bit of both, actually. I’ve heard your name throughout various exploits, but always assumed we’d never cross paths.
I can say I was intimidated by your reputation.
” That’s right, play to her ego. Keep her amused and flattered.
“But you see, I can’t lose this client here, so when all my leads were coming up dry, I figured why not go with the Hail Mary and try to get an audience with the best.”
“And I’m what you consider the best?”
I was pretty sure she was teasing. Not in a fun way, mind you, but more like a cat playing with a mouse and deciding whether to devour it.
At least that I could answer without a doubt. “Absolutely.”
She looked like she was going to say something else, but one of the men stood and handed over his tablet. Silence fell over the room while the Whisper scrolled on the screen.
I froze as her emotions began to glow brighter and brighter, and a whole bunch of them were not so nice. She wanted to hurt something.
And that something was probably me.
“Interesting,” she said before turning the device toward me. My mother’s face stared back at me.
Well… that sucked.
“Are you familiar with this woman?”
Yeah, my adrenaline was pumping, and it was pumping hard. Enough that the urge to vomit was back with a vengeance. But I fought it all down and shrugged.
“She’s my mother. Why?”
“Your mother is Ophelia Donmoue? One of the few proven psychics since our kind came forward?”
“Was,” I corrected, mind scrambling as it played out twenty different scenarios.
Stay cool, stay cool. This doesn’t mean the end yet.
“She died?”
“Yeah.”
“Unfortunate. I always hoped to meet her. I suppose there’s a lesson about procrastination there.”
The woman dropped the tablet, and her minion only barely caught it. “So, do you want to change your story at all?”
I gave her a curious look, like I was the one who was mystified. “What’s to change? That’s my mom, yeah. She died, money dried up, so I do consulting now with what abilities I have. I’m sure you know how easy it is to run up a bill with some… people.”
That’s right. Play pathetic. Make her feel above me. Feed that ego. The more she underestimates you, the longer you’ll survive.
“Ah, shame that.” Her mood suddenly perked up, and those poisonous tendrils of violence retreated a little. “It’s not like I have to worry about your abilities, considering they won’t work on me.”
Oh boy.
My stomach dropped. “How so?”
She tapped the side of her head and grinned at me. “Dryad. There are no thoughts in here for you to read or intentions for the fates to read. I’m less an alive being like you and more just a force of nature.”
Welp, that was just about the worst thing she could have said.
Paul bristled behind me. “So, you don’t have a psychic signature?”
Crap! I’d planted the seed, but she’d cultivated it into a mighty weeping willow. Except I knew she couldn’t be the killer because I could see her emotions as bright as day now that I’d adjusted to the way she expressed herself. How was I supposed to explain that without ruining everything?
“Not as you would consider it, no. That’s one of the many reasons I earned my nickname. It’s cute, isn’t it?”
“I wouldn’t use the word cute, no,” I said quickly, trying to figure out how to get us out of the conversation so I could nip Paul’s discovery in the bud.
If he thought she’d killed his family members, I had no doubt he would attack her if push came to shove.
“If you’d be willing to help point us in the right direction, I’d be most grateful. Consider it a favor to my mother.”
“I suppose I could possibly be amenable to helping a fellow rare magical person in need. There aren’t many of us left, are there?
My kind destroyed by poisons in the air, ground, and water, while yours have historically been enslaved, controlled, or killed to help powerful humans increase their grip on the world. ”
“I’d be most grateful.”
“I’m sure you would. But first, a test of loyalty. There are some tasks I have at hand that would benefit from the insight of an oracle.”
Fuck, here we go.
“For fuck’s sake!” Paul snapped. “We don’t have time for that. If you don’t want to help us, I’m sure my money will find someone who will.”
I grimaced, but inside, I was delighted. That was exactly what a rich, spoiled brat would say while trying to orchestrate a hit on his rivals. Who knew Paul could improv too! He was full of all sorts of surprises.
Certainly kept things interesting.
“Excuse me, if you wouldn’t mind giving me a minute to confer with my client, I assure you he does not mean any slight.”
Thankfully, the woman’s amusement shined even brighter, although I didn’t miss the rise in malevolence. It wasn’t anything outright, meaning we weren’t at risk for a direct attack ( yet ), but it was there.
“By all means. Take him aside and explain to him I’m not a member of his staff or one of his little friends that he can order about just because he grew up with a silver spoon in his mouth.”
“Right! Of course! Just a couple of minutes!”
I started to haul Paul toward the front door so we could make a quick getaway, but two larger men stood on either side of it, their beefy arms crossed over their chests.
Right. There would be no easy exit. Not exactly a surprise, but I had to try.
“We’ll just go this way,” I said with a smile before ducking through a doorway on the opposite side.
I kept walking, looking this way and that for a possible exit, but the place had been designed to only have the one egress. Terrible fire hazard. Somehow, I don’t think they care about fire codes. So, with no way to get out of there fast, I settled on a side room that looked like a reading area.
“We have to get out of here,” I whispered exactly as heatedly as I meant to. “That woman didn’t kill your brother.”
“How could you possibly know that? She has no psychic signature. That’s why you couldn’t sense her around us and didn’t know she was the Whisper.”