Chapter 3 #2
“Farewell, sheriff. You executed your post admirably.” Anthony struggled to think of anything of a more personal nature to add but failed. He had not known the sheriff well, only in a perfunctory way when the odd soldier ran into trouble in town. “Good night.”
He turned to leave but Nina stepped between him and the door.
She held out her hand. “The daggers.”
“I’m afraid I do not know what you mean.”
“I saw you pick them up. Return them.”
“Ah. I had quite forgotten.” It was a small lie. The daggers were unmistakable artifacts; they hummed with Nexus energy. He withdrew the pair from the inner pocket, still wrapped in a handkerchief. “I was unaware of a set of relics in town. They should be registered.”
“Only collectors have to register,” Nina said, accepting the bundle. She unwrapped the fabric, as if expecting Anthony to return a decoy set. “We use our artifacts.”
“They are exceptional.”
Nina’s dark eyes were bright in the lamplight. She rocked back on her feet as she was preparing to continue their argument. “Jollett will face consequences.”
Not a question. A statement.
The woman from the kitchen carried a tray with a bowl of soup up the stairs.
“Aunt Prudy, I don’t think soup is the best idea,” Nina said.
“Nonsense. Lucas has to keep up his strength.” She pushed past them and sat at the edge of the mattress, attempting to feed her son a spoonful.
He needed to depart. The room was becoming crowded and would no doubt soon become emotional.
“Spencer would surely be outside with the horses,” he said.
“Captain Pearson, promise me.”
“The situation will be handled.”
Nina
Lucas died three days later. It was unpleasant and Nina did not wish to discuss the details.
Needless to say, the family was in shambles.
Aunt Prudy had stayed by his side, never resting, and was a ghost of herself.
Her father, John, was quiet, but he was always quiet.
He spent a great deal of time in the workshop, polishing the pistols and sharpening the blades.
Her mother, Arianna, was more practical.
She handled the arrangements and sat down for tea with those who stopped by to offer sympathy.
Nina didn’t know what to do.
Returning to work was logical. She wrote the report and handed it to the chief deputy, who then told her to take a fortnight’s leave.
A fortnight was agony. Nina wanted to work.
She needed to keep herself occupied and the house offered little in the way of distraction.
Reminders of Lucas lurked in every room.
Worse, when she ventured onto the first floor, either to fetch a book from the library or to pilfer a hunk of bread, she got roped into making polite conversation with visitors.
Sulking in her bedroom certainly wasn’t dignified but she could avoid unwanted company.
The uninterrupted reading time was much appreciated as well.
“Here you are,” Aunt Prudy said, bursting into the room. The woman only had one speed: maximum. Grief had only seemed to work her into overdrive.
“This is the best reading spot in the house.” Nina closed the journal she had been reading, using her thumb to mark her place. Her bedroom got full morning sun and a battered old chair by the window was the perfect location to enjoy a book.
“Reading that old thing?”
“Is there something I can help you with, Aunt?”
Prudy settled on the edge of the bed. “We should move you to the green bedroom on the second floor. This is a child’s room.”
“I am content here.” Nina’s room was originally part of the nursery suite. As the youngest member of the Navarre family, she never had to make way for a younger sibling or cousin. While the room could not accommodate entertaining a guest, it was perfectly comfortable for her modest needs.
Prudy produced a flat wooden box with a silver engraved label affixed to the top. “I want you to have these.”
Nina recognized Lucas’ daggers at once.
Cheese and Crackers. The name was ridiculous but a long-ago great-something-or-other named them.
Perhaps silly names were the fashion back then or the crafter was peckish and their request for a repast was misunderstood.
Or, as Nina suspected, they were vexed and couldn’t swear in front of children.
She heard her own father mutter it many times.
Regardless of the reason, once an artifact was named, one couldn’t rename it. It just wasn’t done. Cheese and Crackers were a match pair, bound together with a highly dubious name.
“Give them to Jonah or Mira. Even Marcus,” Nina said. Any of her cousins would be more deserving than her and they’d be home soon for the funeral.
“I’m giving them to you.”
“No.”
“ Lucas would want you to have them.”
“That is categorically untrue.” Nina slammed the journal down on a side table. “He absolutely would not.”
“You dare to tell me what my son would want?”
“I was the reason he died. He would never give me his daggers. Never.” Lucas had never let her touch them, not even during a sparring session.
The artifacts weren’t magical—beyond the infusion of Nexus energy that gave the blade bite extra verve—and Lucas certainly was not bonded to the daggers, but they were his . It felt unseemly.
“Lucas knew the risks of wearing the badge. We all know the risk,” Prudy said.
In her youth, well before Nina drew breath, she herself had worn a deputy’s badge, but gave that all up with her first child.
Aunt Prudy and Uncle Rafael had five children.
One died young of a fever. Jonah was a deputy down on the southern coast. Mira traveled with a caravan, protecting passengers from monsters and highwaymen.
Marcus was actually an accountant with Cousin Victor in Founding.
And Lucas, the youngest and most accomplished of the siblings.
It was hard to picture round, plump Aunt Prudy as a trained monster hunter and enforcer of the law, but it was true. Carrying five pregnancies could have that effect on a person, as well as indulging in rich cooking.
That was unkind. Aunt Prudy bubbled over with enthusiasm for those she loved and expressed that affection with an abundance of everything.
Food. Drink. Knitting thick woolly socks and scarves.
Sweets from the candy shop. A new book she was sure Nina would enjoy.
A ribbon that matched a new dress. A tonic to ease the stomach pain from too many sweets.
When Nina went away to school, Prudy faithfully sent care packages resplendent with morsels from home and many woolly socks.
As a small child, Aunt Prudy had been a favorite. As an adult, she was still Nina’s favorite.
“You don’t understand,” Nina said, embarrassed that her voice whined.
The mattress dipped as she sat on the edge of the bed next to Prudy.
“Lucas told me to stay in front of the tavern while he investigated. I heard a noise. The rubbish bins were knocked over. I thought it might be… that he would need help.”
Prudy made a thoughtful noise and nodded. “Your superior left you alone, a new deputy without experience.”
“He didn’t—” But he had. He left her alone, knowing that she lacked training. “I won’t blame Lucas.”
“You’d rather blame yourself.”
Nina could not deny the truth of the statement.
“Your actions were reasonable. It would have been irresponsible not to investigate that noise in the alley,” Prudy said.
All of this was in her report. None of this was new or revelatory. Prudy and her parents had heard her account of events the night it happened and again the next morning, when Nina was able to share the story again in a calmer and more collected manner.
“I reached for my pistol first and he told me not to rely on it,” she finally said.
Once she admitted this mistake, the others poured out.
Her hands waved about as she spoke. “I haven’t trained enough.
I don’t train enough. I can barely use my dagger.
It was like poking a toothpick into an angry lump of bread.
Jollett just didn’t notice me. I should have?—”
Prudy grabbed her hands, effectively silencing her. “The only one at fault is the monster that attacked Lucas.”
Her words eased a weight in Nina’s chest. Lucas knew the risk of the job. She followed his order until it was reasonable to deviate. She couldn’t have done anything differently.
But she could do better. She could train at hand-to-hand and learn to fight properly.
“And possibly the officers who failed to secure the monster,” Prudy said with a scoff. “Do they not have cages with proper locks?”
“Captain Pearson seemed quite embarrassed to report the beast missing.” The incident had been a blemish on his record.
“Well, he’s caught now and I’ll be right upfront the day they put that beast to death. I want to see his ashes burn.”
Nina recalled how cagey Captain Pearson had been about the manner of the beast’s execution.
Not hanging, because they had a gentlemen’s agreement about that, but surely some other method.
The military might want a monster in their ranks, but the liability of an uncontrolled beast was too great.
Jollett would be killed, put down like the rabid animal he was.
“I’ll be there with you,” Nina said.
“With these.” Prudy pushed the box toward her.
Nina opened the lid. Nestled in dark blue velvet, the twin daggers glowed. She held up the nearest to the soft light coming in through the window. The silver gleamed and only the faintest hint of violet flashed at the edge. The violet would be more noticeable in the dark.
They aimed true. That was the special ability imbued into the metal. They damaged a monster the same as any other silver dagger, but they never missed. Nina and Lucas had tested, throwing the set blindfolded, over their shoulders, at moving targets.
They never missed.
“Use them well,” Prudy said.
“Thank you,” she said, returning the daggers to their box. “I’ll make you proud.”
Prudy pulled Nina in for an embrace. The box dug into Nina’s chest, but she didn’t care. She leaned into her aunt, soaking up affection as they took comfort in their mutual grief.
“Give them to Marcus,” Prudy said with an amused snort when the embrace ended. “He’d sooner use them to sharpen pencils than hunt a monster.”
Nina laughed because it was true, and because for the first time in days she felt like she had permission to enjoy being alive again. She’d always miss her cousin. He was her oldest friend, closer than a brother, and no one could replace him, but he’d want her to continue on.
Her arms tightened around the box.
He’d want her to have the daggers and use them well.