Chapter 46: Fury

The bottle of wine was empty, and Quentin couldn’t bring himself to care. It was just one of many empty bottles in his room, discarded when he was done and piling up fast. The good thing about being rich off of being a professional murderer was all the creature comforts one could afford. The bad thing about being rich off of being a murderer was the job ended, and if he wasn’t careful, Quentin would drink himself out of being rich. He found it hard to care about that too.

It wasn’t just losing Maria, though that still gnawed at him. He hadn’t known her all that well, but after ten years of executing the only people he really talked to, knowing someone for a couple weeks was like knowing them for a lifetime. She was his friend, and he watched as Cervenka killed her with the blessing of Amicus and the Emperor.

It wasn’t just losing his job, though if he was being honest Quentin would’ve admitted that hurt worse. The Colosseum had been the biggest part of his life for a full third of it. The people there kept him at arm’s length and his boss hated him, but it was his place, dammit. He went there almost every day for a decade, only staying home if he was too injured to practice. Now what was he supposed to do with his life? Quentin dropped the empty bottle of wine to the floor and sullenly rolled over in bed.

Maybe he was being ridiculous. It was all too obvious Razia was starting to lose her patience, but she didn’t understand. She still had a life. Hell, it would take more than a couple of setbacks to dim her fire. But Quentin wasn’t like that. He didn’t have much he could call his own, and now he had even less than before. What was he supposed to do? How was he supposed to go on now that his main purpose was ripped away?

Sounds from the main room made Quentin stir. It’d only been…However long it was they were gone. Telling time was hard after a week-long bender of wine and food and self pity. Quentin forced himself into a sitting position, staring at the door and waiting. The sounds grew closer until they stopped. There was a knock at the door, small and hesitant.

“What?” Quentin grumbled, not even really feeling like doing that. It was almost a part to play while he felt like shit. His rational mind told him to knock it off and grow up, the rest of him urged to be worse about it. “What do you want?”

The floor flew open, crashing into the wall. In the doorway stood Isa, hands balled into fists and murder in her eyes. “You pathetic, worthless son of a bitch!” She growled.

Quentin blinked. Whatever he was expecting, this wasn’t it. “Yes?” he responded.

Isa closed the distance and brought her hand across his face. “What happened to being there for us? What happened to those rules you had us agree to if we were going to be graced with your presence? What happened to you being different from every other asshole who lets us down? Where the fuck have you been?”

Quentin reeled from the slap, though he was tipsy enough to not really feel it much. Everything was wiggly except for Isa, who was clear, sharp, and intent on making herself seen and heard. “What? What are you talking about?” His gaze slid past her to Razia, who stood in the doorway with an inscrutable expression.

“I’m talking about you failing us, you bastard!” Isa’s anger was red hot, fresh, and completely unexpected. “You were supposed to protect us, weren’t you? Lucy, come in here.” She turned. Razia got out of the doorway, and Quentin lost his breath.

Lucy had to be helped in on Samantha’s shoulder. It took Quentin a few seconds to even realize who it was, and when he did his heart dropped into his stomach. Her face was brutalized into a lump of bruised meat. Quentin stood on unsteady feet and walked past Isa, stopping in front of Lucy. Now he was painfully aware of how bad he looked and probably smelled, and even then it was nothing compared to how bad Lucy looked. “What the hell happened?” He reached for her but then hesitated.

It was Razia who answered. “Darriq. Remember the Twilight Dancer?” She folded her arms across her chest. It bothered Quentin that he had no idea what she was thinking or feeling. Then her words finally registered.

“That pimp whose…Arm…Oh.” He swallowed hard, unable to take his eyes off of Lucy. “Are you…Are you okay, Lucy?” he ventured.

“Of course she’s not fucking okay!” Isa snapped at him. Lucy cringed away from them both, clinging to Samantha like her life depended on it. “Some psychopath just had her beaten within an inch of her life. Just to deliver a message to you.”

Quentin reacted as if she struck him. In a way, she had. Looking over Lucy again now and realizing it was for him, Quentin’s stomach twisted itself into knots. If anything was going to sober him up fast, it was the roiling, conflicting emotions battling inside him. Shock, horror, guilt, and anger. The shock and guilt were nothing new. He’d spend the past week with shock and guilt as his drinking partners. The anger was…

“I’ll kill him,” he said.

“Well, that’s a start,” Razia said dryly.

“What about Lucy? Killing him won’t undo what he did to her.” Isa scowled at him.

Quentin took a step closer to Lucy. He was no stranger to getting the shit kicked out of him. His entire life he’d been taking and giving out beatings until they were the next best thing to normal. Most beatings weren’t this severe unless they were failed murders. Her entire face was bloody and puffed up. She looked back at him out of her one good eye, a tear trailing from it. She looked away from him.

“I’m…Sorry,” she managed to get out, slurring the words. It was then that Quentin saw she was missing teeth and the rage simmering in his gut bubbled up. Samantha hugged Lucy tight to her, and the girl hugged back.

“That’s ridiculous,” he said. “You’re not the one who should be apologizing.”

“About time,” said Isa. At the door, Jenna and Tricia peeked in but kept their distance.

It hurt looking at her like this. It hurt knowing it was his fault, and it was his beating she took. The past week had been miserable, and now it was getting worse. Because of him. It would be so easy to just give in to the self loathing and do whatever he could to make things worse. Make it all blow up in his face so he didn’t have to deal with it and could just be alone again. He’d never admit it to himself, but that’s what he did when things got tough. He retreated back into familiar loneliness until he couldn’t breathe and eventually had to come out of his hideyhole for fresh air.

That wasn’t an option anymore. He lost his job and a friend, but there were still friends here. There was still a job here. Gods, what a fool he’d been. It was so easy to forget when locked up in his room. Here, now, with all of them looking at him with mixtures of sadness, anger, disapproval, and expectation, he couldn’t escape it.

“Lucy,” he said. “I’m sorry. It’s my fault this happened to you. This will not go unanswered.” That was the bare minimum, if nothing else. The anger rose until he was shaking with it. “And we’ll take care of you. You won’t have to worry about shelter or food while you recover. We’ll take you to the temple’s flesh sculptors to help you heal. I can’t undo it, but I can try to minimize things.”

Gods, it wasn’t enough by far. Just the same Lucy, shy, young, sweet little Lucy, gave a hesitant nod. “Thank…you…” She got out with some difficulty. “The flesh…They’re gonna…fix me?”

Isa came around Quentin and took Lucy’s hand in hers. “Yes,” she said. “They’ll fix you and make it like this never happened at all. I go to see them all the time and they’re good, kind people. They can work real miracles there. If you have the shards.” She looked at Quentin, eyes full of suspicion. “Looks like Mr. Q doesn’t have to worry about that.”

“I don’t. You’ll be taken care of. You all will. This won’t happen again.” At least not until the next time he fell into a black mood and gave in to despair. Better to not think like that. “Do you ladies mind? I need to get dressed.”

“No problem,” said Samantha. “Let’s get you comfy and some water. I know where the medical supplies are.” She led Lucy into the main room. Jenna and Tricia got out of their way, and even Isa retreated, glaring balefully at Quentin as she did so. For once, he really couldn’t blame her. Finally it was just him and Razia. She closed the door, staying inside.

“Sending Isa after me was dirty,” he said.

Razia shrugged. “So was Lucy getting beaten for our poor decisions.” Quentin nodded his acknowledgement. “I wasn’t about to hold her back on this one. I’ve been trying to get through to you for a week. It took her ten minutes. I should’ve unleashed her on you sooner.”

“Maybe,” Quentin admitted. He sat down on his bed, groaning. Retaliation was important, but he felt like shit. He looked like shit too, and probably smelled like it. “What all happened?”

Razia sat on the bed next to him and told him. She left nothing out, every single blow against her, against Lucy, and the special attention paid to Samantha. Quentin sat there and listened, wringing his hands as it got worse and worse. When she was done they sat together in silence, broken finally by Razia saying, “I tried to take the beating. He insisted on Lucy.”

Quentin nodded numbly. He was far beyond anger, into a cold, calm fury that scared him. “I believe you. I’ll deal with this. Do you think he’s still there?”

“Yeah,” said Razia. “I do. I think his brother owns the place. Chances are he’s still there drinking and laughing about what he did. He didn’t seem to be in any hurry to leave after his men were through.”

Maybe Razia was just trying to rile him up worse, but if she was it worked. Quentin could picture it all in his head, and it just made him sick with hate. Anger was nothing new. His life was made of bitter anger, sad anger, futile anger, ever since he was a child. He didn’t have many people he outright hated like he did Darriq. Quentin put on his boots and cloak and stood up. “How bad do I look?”

Razia cocked her head to the side. As tired and upset as she looked, she let out a small chuckle. “Like a deranged monster out for blood.”

“Fantastic.” And then he was out the door.

The girls had wasted no time at all in making themselves at home. Samantha had Lucy laying down on the lounger getting tended to by Tricia, while Isa and Jenna sat on the ground nearby, passing a bottle of wine they’d taken from the kitchen between them. Seeing them all there in his home filled him with a momentary surge of panic, but then it was gone. It wasn’t like he was an executioner anymore. Let them wonder how he got his money.

“We’ll be back shortly,” Razia announced. “Does anyone want us to bring anything back with us?”

Isa met his eyes. “I’m coming with you. I want that bastard’s teeth,” she said.

Five pairs of eyes were on him. Quentin gave a slow nod. “You got it.”

People got out of his way as Quentin stormed down the Boulevard. He didn’t bother to put on his cloak or make himself presentable. He was all scruff and wine stains and murder in his eyes, and that’s all he wanted to be. Razia, Isa, and Jenna trailed behind a short distance. It didn’t take long to reach the place. Razia stopped him and pointed. Quentin nodded and entered the small, run down tavern.

Darriq was still there, as were his hired muscle. They were crowded around a table with drinks and half eaten food, laughing about something. Lynne sat in his lap, looking uncomfortable. Quentin stood in the doorway until Darriq noticed him, expression changing from an amused smile to surprise, and then smug satisfaction. He motioned for Quentin to come forward. The man nearest Quentin looked over his shoulder and vacated his seat and stood nearby.

Quentin took it, holding up a finger for the barman. Razia was right, the two had to be brothers. The man poured him a drink and handed it to Razia, who brought it to Quentin. Everything was done so quietly, so peacefully it struck Quentin as absurd. He took a drink, then set the mug down. “So. You wanted my attention. You got it.”

Darriq’s eyes glittered dangerously. “It seems I did. The message come through loud and clear, then? You’re not going to come back to the Twilight Dancer ever again. And you should probably apologize for making me spend the effort. Isn’t that right, pet?” Darriq stroked Lynne’s long blonde hair. She cringed, not meeting either of their eyes.

“What came through was that you’re a piece of a shit and a coward,” Quentin said, amazed that he was talking about it. It would’ve been so much easier to just come in and attack him, but the moment they arrived, he realized it wasn’t an option. No, they had to talk first. It was the only way to do this right. “If you had something to say, you should’ve said it to me. Lucy did nothing to you. You’re going to pay for that.”

“Am I?” Darriq took a sip of his own drink, smirking. “The way I see it, I’ve got three men here who are more than happy to deliver the message anew, now that you’re here. Isn’t that right boys?”

The thug nearest to him perked up. “Depends. You gonna pay us more?”

Darriq shrugged. “Sure. I’ll happily pay for the privilege of seeing this fucker bleed. What’s your name, Moony?”

Quentin saw red. His fingers gripped the mug so hard he thought it would break. “My name is Mr. Q,” he said. “And you’ve made a serious mistake. Here’s what’s going to happen.”

Darriq looked around to his men, who shared his amused expression. “You really going to come in here looking and smelling like this and think you’re going to dictate anything? You’ve got balls, I’ll give you that. Murphy, I’ll pay an extra five castura if you break his arm.”

“Sounds good sir,” Murphy said, leering at Quentin.

“First,” Quentin said as if he hadn’t been interrupted. “You’re going to apologize. And then you’re going to pay a blood price to Lucy for the damage you did to her. And then I’m going to break your other arm and knock out your teeth. Afterwards, you’ll never look me in the eye again or I’ll kill you.”

Silence, then the entire table burst out laughing. Quentin looked over his shoulder. Razia gave him a satisfied nod. Isa looked as enraged as he felt and was all but baring her teeth at them. Jenna looked around nervously between the table and the bartender. Quentin turned back around. “And you’re going to do this now.” The laughter only increased.

“And if I decide to say no?” Darriq wiped a tear from his eye. He motioned for Lynne to get off of him and she obeyed, slinking off to the next table. She stayed close, obviously scared and doing her best to escape notice.

Quentin swirled his drink around in the mug. “Then I’m still going to do all of that, but I’m going to have to work for it. The rest of you can walk away. This isn’t your business.”

For a second, he thought they were going to laugh again. Instead, the tension thickened and nobody dared move. Not once did Quentin take his eyes off of Darriq. Not even when he struck first. He rose up, flipping the table and immediately threw his elbow into the face of the man whose seat he took. That man recoiled. Quentin grabbed him by the shirt and threw him into Darriq, sending both of them crashing to the floor.

The other two got to their feet, sluggish from surprise. They looked down at Darriq, and then each other. By unspoken agreement they moved at the same time, flanking him. Or they would have, if one didn’t get stopped by the man atop Darriq struggling to get to his feet. Quentin met his other foe head on, swinging his fist into the man’s gut as his knuckles collided with Quentin’s jaw. The man doubled over and Quentin reeled back.

“What are you waiting for?” Darriq cried, clutching his broken arm to his chest. “Fuck him up!” The man who’d fallen on him climbed to his feet, pulling Darriq away from the action. That left Thug 1 and Thug 2, who was gasping for breath.

Behind him, Razia let out a cheer and Isa and Jenna joined in. Quentin straightened up and spat a tooth to the floor. He raised his fists, smiling. He motioned for the man nearest to him to come at him. The man was happy to oblige and charged Quentin. He barreled right into him, driving him into the wall with a crash. The impact shook him, but Quentin brought his knee up into the man’s gut, and then his face. He pushed the man far enough away to get in a heavy blow to his temple.

The man dropped to his knees, but Quentin didn’t have time to celebrate. The other two men came up on either side of him and started swinging. He barely had time to raise his arms to shield his face as they rained blow after blow down on him, hammering him from both sides. Pain exploded in his arms. He tried to lean away but was pinned in. The man on his knees recovered and punched him in the stomach. Quentin faltered, and the next blow took him in the face and sent him crashing to the ground.

He rolled and avoided the foot that would’ve stomped his skull and lashed out with his foot, sweeping one of their legs out from under him. Quentin got to his feet in time for the next thug to grab him by the front of his tunic. Quentin brought his hands down on the man’s arms, breaking his grip. He continued the motion, windmilling them around again to slam his hands down on his opponent’s ears. The man stumbled backwards, tripping over his buddy and sending them both down again.

Quentin raised himself up, spitting a glob of blood onto the ground. “How about you?” he said to the one remaining man. Murphy looked at Quentin, down at his comrades on the ground. He let out a cry and rushed forward. Quentin waited until just the right moment before slamming his forehead into the man’s nose. It worked, as evidenced by the horrible crunch, but it came at a cost. Murphy’s mouth opened and his teeth grazed Quentin’s scalp, slicing it open.

The world spun from the impact, pain coming in fast behind it. He was going to have a bitch of a headache later. Blood oozed down his forehead, pooling down between his eyebrows onto the bridge of his nose. He turned to Darriq, knowing how awful he must’ve looked. He smiled, revealing a gap in the front. “As for you,” said Quentin.

Darriq stared at him in horror. Behind the bar, his brother at least tried to regain control of the situation. “I want you out of my bar right the fuck now. Do it, or I’ll bring the Watch in on…” He trailed off when Quentin looked at him, blood dripping down his face. He turned back around to Darriq.

“Look, this was a misunderstanding,” said Darriq, backing up until he hit the next table. “You’re right, I should’ve talked to you, should’ve…Stop, hey, stop!” He held up his hand to try to ward Quentin off, but that was the wrong move. Quentin grabbed him by his arm and swung him around until they were in the same position they’d been in just a few weeks before, with his arm wrenched around until it creaked.

“Oh gods, no no no please don’t do this,” Darriq said, realizing what was about to happen.

“You brought this on yourself. I would’ve been happy to talk with you, but you hurt one of my girls. So, this is for Lucy.” Quentin looked behind him. One by one, they nodded. He met Razia’s eyes and saw triumph there. And that was all he needed. Quentin wrenched. Darriq screamed like a dying rabbit. He let the bastard fall to the ground, screaming and sobbing.

Exhaustion hit Quentin then, on top of the pain and the adrenaline no longer having an outlet made his limbs want to shake. Normally, once the fight was over some small part of him regretted it all. All he felt was dark satisfaction and a predatory pleasure at Darriq’s pain. All that left was one last thing.

Quentin rolled Darriq over onto his back. He kneeled on either side of his chest and grabbed him by his face. Darriq’s eyes widened as he remembered the last part of the cost for doing this. Quentin brought his fist down on his face three times, heavy and measured. Darriq whimpered with each blow, and that turned into a suppressed scream when Quentin put his hand in the man’s mouth and ripped out a loose tooth.

He got back up and recovered his own lost tooth. He held them out to Isa. “One from him, one from me. That good enough?”

Isa took them, not seeming to care about the blood or how disgusting it was. She nodded. “It’s a start. Don’t let this happen again.”

“I won’t.”

“That was really gross Mr. Q,” said Jenna, who looked more than a little green. “I’m not saying he didn’t deserve it, but that was…” She shuddered.

Razia came up to him, hugging him. “You’re bleeding pretty badly. And I’m sorry about your tooth.”

Quentin shrugged, but pulled her close. “It’s fine. It’ll grow back, and scalp wounds always bleed like crazy.”

Razia pushed away from him, making a face. “What?”

But Quentin had turned around, remembering at last that Lynne was there, crouched in the back and shivering. When she saw Quentin notice her, she let out a squeak and hid behind the nearest table, as if that would save her. Quentin stepped over Darriq and went over to her. It would’ve been so easy to hate her for setting this up. Mostly, he felt pity.

“Are you okay?” he asked, holding out his bloodied hand. Lynne looked at it as if it was on fire, but she took it anyway. Quentin pulled her to her feet and inspected her.

“Y-yeah. I’m…” Lynne looked past him to Razia and the girls. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t want to die.”

“Tell that to Lucy,” Isa scoffed. “That fucker had her beat and made her walk home naked. Because of you.”

Razia held up a hand. “We’ll put it to Lucy. If she forgives you, we do. If not, you’re on your own.”

That sounded fair to Quentin. He tugged on her hand and directed her to go with the other girls. If she ever did anything like this again there’d be a problem, but they could afford to at least give her a chance. He walked over to the bar, where the bartender was glowering at Quentin.

“That your brother?” Quentin motioned towards Darriq.

“Yeah,” the bartender said, sighing.

“He’s a real bastard. He still has his life. If he tries anything or sends people after me again, I’ll take that too. If you care about him, make sure he understands that and stays the fuck away from me and mine.”

The bartender spit on the ground. “What’s to stop me from going to the Watch and getting your ass arrested for all this?”

Quentin shrugged. “Go ahead. Once people know you called the Watch for your brother instead of him dealing with me himself, he’ll be nothing but a bad joke. A worse joke, I guess. I’ll pay the fine and then come back for you. Let it go. He started this, I’m ending it.”

After a few seconds, the man grunted and looked away. That was good enough for Quentin. Grabbing a rag off the counter, he pressed it up against his forehead. He joined the girls and they walked out of that shithole and back towards home.