Hour of Mischief (7 page)

couldn’t turn back. That’s the thing about handing over temporary possession of your soul to a god. Kind of hard to say:
“Just fooling with you. I’d actually like to go back on my word.”
Such a statement could result in eternal damnation in the Abyss and I wasn’t keen on spending an eternity of suffering in Axira’s domain.

So, I shook my regretful thoughts from my head and cast them to the wind. There’s no sense regretting something you can’t change. Besides, this wouldn’t be all for nothing. If I succeeded, then my friends would be released. My mistakes would be righted.

“I’ll do this,” I finally told Itazura. “But I need to make a side trip first.”

“And what might this side trip entail, pray tell?” Itazura asked.

“A weapons stock-up. I have to go home.” I hopped off the trash bin, my feet splashing in a shallow puddle. “The guards took all my good weapons.”

“Fine, but make it snappy. I want to make a try at Laetatia tonight, if possible,” Itazura said.

I cast him a sideways glance. “Tonight? It’s nearly midnight.”

Itazura’s eyes gleamed as he chuckled. “Laetatia is the Goddess of merriment and drink, little thief. She doesn’t have early bedtimes.”

“Don’t make me punch you with my left arm again.” I raised my metallic fist. “I will do it.”

“Careful, human. You’re under pact with me now. Doing any damage to me could do damage to your soul.”

“I don’t think so,” I said. “Because you still need me. I don’t think you’ll hurt my soul so quickly.” I continued on my path down the alleyway. “Besides, it’s not like my punch does any lasting damage. Your nose doesn’t even break when I hit it.”

“Oh, you sound so heart broken,” Itazura said, gliding along beside me.

“I really am.” I shot him a glare. “And will you walk on the ground like a normal human being?”

“But I’m not a normal human being,” Itazura sang. “I’m a god.”

Great Abyss, this was gonna be a long week.

The apartment was unusually quiet when I cracked open the front door and slipped inside. Normally at this hour, the sound of my mother’s work still echoed from the bedroom.

It must’ve been a slow night, but I couldn’t complain. The less of her work I had to hear the better.

“So little human, where–” Itazura started but I quickly cut him off.

“Quiet. I don’t want to wake her if she’s asleep.”

“If who’s asleep?” Itazura asked, lowering his voice ever so slightly.

“My mother,” I murmured, picking at the hangnail I’d almost gnawed off earlier.

I slunk down the hall on tiptoe, wincing every time the floorboards creaked beneath my boots or the joints of my left arm squeaked. My fingers traced along the peeling, red wallpaper, leading up to my mother’s bedroom door. It was cracked open but the lights were off. Maybe she had gone to bed.

“Janet dear, is that you?”

I froze in mid step. For a moment, I couldn’t bring myself to say anything. Maybe if I just stayed quiet she would go back to sleep. But after a few moments of silence, she spoke again.

“Janet?”

“It’s just me, Mother,” I said softly. “Go back to sleep.”

The bed creaked from within the bedroom as my mother turned beneath her sheets. “Oh,” she said. She sounded rather inebriated. Not that I would stay sober in her place. “Good to see you, honey. You haven’t been in since this morning.”

I stared at the ground. I could practically feel Itazura’s curious gaze but I chose to ignore him. “It’s been since yesterday morning. I’ve been gone two days, remember?”

“Oh, yes,” she said. “Silly me. So glad you’re home, Janet.” She let out a contented sigh and my heart clenched.

“Get some sleep, Mom.” Then I closed the door the rest of the way and continued on to my room.

“Seems your mother has drunk a bit more than she can handle,” Itazura commented when I’d shut the door.

“She’s usually like that,” I said, fumbling through my drawers for my spare knives. I tossed my weapons onto my bed as I found them. “It’s hard to be sober when you have her job.”

“Is it now? What does your mother do?”

I paused, my throat tightening. “Every man in town.”

A brief silence filled the room before Itazura said, “Your mother favors Meroquio then.”

“Meroquio?” I shook my head in disgust. “What she does has nothing to do with love. It’s all work. Work and sick pleasure. There’s no love in it.” I exhaled, my shoulders sagging. “Though yes, she does favor him. Keeps his talisman around her neck and his symbol on her bedroom wall. All of the women in her profession do. I’m sure your fellow God would be pleased to hear that.” I slammed the drawer closed.

“I don’t know. I’d have to ask him,” Itazura admitted. “I imagine you don’t appreciate him quite as much.”

“Not really,” I said. “But he’s not the one who forced my mother into this. And he’s not one of the men who come knocking every night. I’m used to it by now.”

“Really?”

“Sure,” I said, snatching a leather pouch from under my bed. “When I was a kid, it was worse. Back before she got out of the whorehouse and found an apartment for us. My last name is Redstone, so I guess you know where I was born.” I hated that last name. Redstone. The sign of Meroquio. The last name of all children born of whores. “Anyway, she saved up money for the longest time. We’re lucky to have this place. But these apartments still have thin walls. I go to sleep to the sounds coming from her bedroom. But I’ve learned to block it out.”

Mostly, anyway.

I scooped my supplies into the satchel, a set of five throwing knives, two long daggers for hand to hand combat and, in case of emergencies, a revolver “But even so, I try not to spend too many nights here. When I don’t want to hear it, I just go to the clock tower down the road. That’s where Sid stays when his dad gets too drunk. That’s where we met.” I managed a smile, but it quickly faltered when I remembered where Sid was right now. Had my friends woken up yet? Did they wonder where I had gone?

Did they think I’d abandoned them?

I pushed the thought from my mind and slung the bag over my shoulder. “So, ready to get this show on the road?”

“I suppose so,” Itazura said.

I lead the way back through the house, this time not stopping when my mother called my name through the closed door.

“Janet. Where are you going?”

I didn’t answer. My mother needed to sleep, and even if I told her my plans, she’d only forget a few minutes later.

I opened the front door and almost ran headlong into a man.

He was a broad-shouldered brute, the kind of slum dweller who usually worked in the mines or the factories. Somewhere requiring heavy manual labor. But beyond that, he bore the typical look of one of my mother’s customers. My eyes narrowed. “What do you want?”

“Where’s your mama?” the man drawled. His breath reeked of alcohol as it wafted over my face.

“She’s closed,” I said shortly. “Come back tomorrow. Or never, if you don’t mind.”

“Your mama doesn’t close until two in the morning. I’ve been here before,” the man said, giving me yet another reason to dislike him.

“Well she’s closed now. Sorry.”

“If she’s closed, then who is he?” The man nodded at Itazura, who stood in the doorway behind me. “He’s her customer, ain’t he?”

“No, he’s not her customer.” My steel hand clenched slowly into a fist. The gears whirred faster beneath the plates.

“Yours then? You taking customers now?” The man leered.

Those were the last words he spoke that night. Seconds after that question exited his mouth, I drove my left fist into his gut with a force that drove the breath from his lungs and sent him flying off our porch. He hit the cobblestone ground and stilled.

“Bastard,” I muttered, stepping off the porch. “Hey. Itazura. You don’t happen to have the ability to lock doors do you?”

“I do, why?”

“Lock that door.” I glared out into the empty darkness. “I don’t want anyone else trying to bother her tonight.”

Itazura raised an eyebrow. “Don’t you have a key yourself?”

“No,” I said without turning around. “My mother has an open door policy. Lock the door, please.”

“All right.” There was a zap and a clicking sound from behind me. Itazura came up to stand beside me. “Ready to begin now, little thief?”

“Why not? I need something to distract me.” I started forward, kicking the unconscious body of the man as I passed it. “Lead the way O God of Mischief.”

he clock towers throughout Fortuna had tolled one in the morning by the time Itazura led me to a large tavern on the border between the middle ring and the slums. It was a large establishment, two stories high with windows and doors all painted gold.

Usually, the parties were just getting started at this time, but I couldn’t imagine the people packed inside getting much louder. I could hear them a mile away, cheering, laughing, and beating their fists against the tables or their nearest companion’s face.

“I really hate parties,” I muttered.

“Why’s that?” Itazura asked.

“Thieves like to stay in the shadows and out of crowds,” I said. “When I drink, I go to the emptier bars.”

“Little young for alcohol, don’t you think?”

“Maybe,” I said. “But it’s safer than the water in the slums. The point is, I hate large, drunken crowds.”