Wallace

The rear-wheel-drive truck had a hard time finding purchase on the damp grass, and the engine churned as we climbed the slope to the building we'd seen in the distance.

The closer we got, the more I began to think we actually had happened upon a proper skyscraper. The perspective was a little skewed since we were at the bottom of a hill, trying to gauge the height of something atop it that was seen only in silhouette, but I was beginning to get the feeling that this might be more building than we were going to be able to handle.

I still wasn't exactly sure about Valentine's plans, but it would be pretty cool to have our own base away from any of the cities. The best part of any RPG was getting your own castle after all. The trouble was, there were only two of us, so I wasn't sure how we were going to maintain whatever the hell was waiting for us.

My confusion grew as we crested the hill, and the headlights swept down, across the scene before us.

"Wallace," Valentine sighed, the pain and weariness plain in her voice, "What is this?"

Atop the hill was a slab of what looked to be a mixture of bedrock, rubble, and concrete. It seemed to be about twenty feet thick and stretched a good way to either side. There was a bit of backsplash, as the headlights reflected in my face. Despite that, I was able to make out the outline of a building atop it all.

"It looks like the mists scooped up the building and about two stories of foundation, plumbing, and whatever else is underground in a city," I stuck my arm through the back window so she could see where I was pointing, "I can see what looks like a water main, and some other pipes over there."

Valentine leaned forwards and rested her forehead on the steering wheel, "Wallace-"

"I'm gonna go stretch my legs," I offered, "Getting kinda sore sitting back here. I'll take a look around, see if there's a way up. You just wait here. If anything comes up, press hard in the middle of the steering wheel, and I'll come running."

Valentine leaned back and looked from the wheel to me, "What will that do?"

"That's the horn, it should be pretty loud, and I'll come running," I promised.

I hauled myself over the side, and the truck rocked on its suspension. I was quite stiff after sitting curled up for so long, and my first couple steps were a little unsteady, but the kinks worked themselves out as I got underway.

I had the torch turned up to its highest setting, and held it above my head as I inspected the face of the slab. It lacked the smoothness I'd seen from the last couple of transitions. Instead of a laser-cut piece of concrete, it was more like a craggy cliff face.

At thirty feet, it was more than high enough to be dangerous, but there were sufficient handholds to make it an easy climb. Not for me, obviously. I might be inhumanly strong, but I also weigh half a ton. Not for Valentine either, not with a crushed collar bone.

Damn, that was going to be a bitch to deal with once we were settled in.

And then there was the truck. We only had so much gas, but it wasn't like I just wanted to give it up. I'm sure there's something useful we could do with a working automobile. I just didn't have any idea how I'd get it twenty feet up in the air.

Well, the first step was getting myself and Valentine thirty feet up in the air.

Rounding the corner to the far side of the slab, I finally spotted something that looked promising. Not a sewer, I imagine that would have been circular, and quite a bit smaller. Instead, it was a squarish concrete pipe, maybe four feet in diameter. Too small to be a pedestrian tunnel, it looked more like a storm drain. More importantly, it was only ten feet off the ground.

I might not be the best climber, but it's not like I couldn't do a pull-up, even if I had to do it with Valentine clinging to my back.

I carried on in my circuit of the area, but as I swept the torch across the face of the cliff, I was disappointed to see that there were no better options. I found the other end of the storm drain, but it wasn't any easier to reach. Both were ten or so feet off the ground. Ten feet was a decent way there though, so all I'd need to do is find the access to the street above and I should be able to get the rest of the way up.

I rounded the final corner, and the truck came once again into view. Valentine had the dome light on, and I could see her still huddled in the driver's seat with her head resting on the wheel. She had her arm tucked in close, and I hurried my pace as I realized that she might have fallen asleep.

She stirred as I approached, and the brake lights flickered for a moment as she adjusted her feet.

I put my hand on the roof of the truck and peered inside, "You doing okay, Valentine?" I asked softly.

She nodded slowly, "I just need a proper meal and a chance to sleep. Did you find a way up?"

"Yeah, we'll need to leave the truck, though," I told her, "Do you know if this is high enough to be safe from the tide?"

"I-" she stammered, quite the hiccup for the usually well-spoken noblewoman, "I don't know. I sighted the top of the building, but I remember there being some leeway. It might be fine."

"Do you think you can get the truck around to the other side?" I asked her gently.

She nodded, "I'll manage. You get in the back."

The truck jerked and shook as Valentine let the clutch in. Or out. Or whatever it is you did with a clutch, and I was sure that we were about to come to a screeching halt. But Valentine smoothed it out, and we began to roll forwards. She brought us around to the left, though she was having enough trouble with the wheel that she ended up catching the front right fender on the cliff.

Valentine swore as the rough concrete clawed at the screeching sheet metal, but she was able to get us turned around. We carried on, following the wall back to the other side.

"Right there," I pointed, "Park up so the cab is right under the opening there."

The parking job was a little rough, and we lost the right side wing mirror doing it, but Valentine put the truck right where I needed it.

She rested her head on the steering wheel again, "Alright, now how am I supposed to stop the engine?" she sighed.

"I'll take care of it," I promised.

I hopped back out of the truck and came around to her door. Once I was there, it took only a moment for me to set the parking brake and pull the wires apart. The engine died, and as before, I taped the wires to the dash. If there was a chance it was still going to be here in the morning, I wanted to make my life as easy as possible if I had to hotwire it again.

"Alright, Valentine, we're good."

She hopped down from the truck, and I caught her by the waist as she stumbled.

She steadied herself, and brushed my hands away, "Thanks, now how are we getting up there? Because I warned you what would happen if you tried to throw me again."

"You get up on the roof, and I'll pull you up," I offered, "Is that okay?"

She nodded, "Just be easy on the shoulder."

I helped her up onto the roof, and she held onto the two of our packs while I scrambled up the craggy concrete into the storm drain.

It was grimy and dirty inside, and usually that was the sort of thing that would set me off, but Valentine was clearly in rough shape and didn't have time for my bullshit. So I laid down on my stomach and reached down to Valentine.

She couldn't raise her right arm above shoulder level, and her other arm wasn't in the best shape either, but she only had to lift the packs so far before I could grab hold and haul each of them up. I set them behind me and reached down to her once again.

She grimaced and shook her head, "Wallace, if you try to pull me up, I think my arm is going to come right off."

"Get up on tiptoe, and I should be able to pull you up by the front of your flight suit," I offered.

She gave me a wry smile, "You sure know how to treat a woman."

I snagged the front of her flight suit, and she yelped as I hauled her off her feet and up into the storm drain, where she clambered over me and got to her feet. Even she had to stoop in the cramped space, and I had to crouch down so much that I may as well be on all fours, but if Valentine wasn't ready to quit, then I wasn't about to start bleating about how I was getting my clothes a little dirty.

"Where do we go from here?" she asked.

I shrugged and pointed up the gently sloping tunnel.

She sighed, "Glad to know we have a plan."

I scooped up both packs and threw one over each shoulder. Valentine led the way, torch in hand, and I followed after her all Quasimodo-like.

She stopped, not far into the tunnel, looked up, and then glanced back at me, an oddly nervous look on her face, "This might work," she offered half-heartedly.

I shuffled forwards and spotted what she'd been looking at. Above her was a tube set with simple metal rungs driven into the concrete, and capped off by a metal manhole cover. It was, at most, two and a half feet wide. That was a bit of a problem for the giant who measured a little over three feet from shoulder to shoulder.

Something about the air changed, and the damp smell of mildew gave way to a musky perfume.

"Valentine," I murmured.

"My apologies, reflex," she explained.

"That's okay," I insisted.

Even with her pheromones in the air, just thinking about climbing up there was making my chest feel tight. But Valentine was too beat up to make the climb, and she needed somewhere better than a grimy storm drain to bed down for the night.

I shrugged the packs off and set them on the ground. Valentine pulled one open, the one surviving pack we'd left with, and without any prompting, began tying a climbing harness for herself.

"You've done this before," I observed.

She smirked, "Usually someone else ties the knots for me."

I rolled my eyes, but couldn't help smiling, "Yeah yeah, hand the rope over."

She held it out to me, "You sure? I didn't figure you for the sort to hold the leash. I thought you preferred to be on the other end of things."

I snatched it away, and tied the rope to my belt, behind me where it would be out of the way. There was plenty of slack, so it wasn't as if I'd be pulling her up as I climbed. Instead, I'd get topside, and then sort out how to pull up her and our packs.

Assuming I could even make the climb. Just trying to stand up into the beginning of the tube felt suffocating. With my shoulders bunched up to fit, I barely had the range of motion to reach up and grab the next rung, and I had to turn my head to the side to keep from bumping my forehead on the rungs above. The cover wasn't far once I'd struggled upright, maybe a few feet beyond the reach of an outstretched hand, but I scarcely even had the space to untangle my arms from the rest of my body even to try.

I had to pull myself up with just my hands at first since I couldn't get my knees high up enough to put a foot on one of the rungs, and It made my arms feel as if they were on fire. I could feel the walls pressing in on both sides, even with my shoulders bunched up in front, and in the tiny space, it was all I could do to reach to eye level and grab the next rung. Such short movements, in so close, it was hard to find the strength needed to reach the next one. And even once I did get up high enough to use my feet, it only set my heart hammering harder. My knees kept catching on the rungs above as my feet tried to find purchase, and I had to twist to the side just to get one foot down.

It would have been comical, had it not been so terrifying. There I was, in a tube about six inches narrower than I was broad. I was in a near-fetal position, with my arms pulled in close to my chest, and my knees pulled up, but awkwardly turned to the side.

I squirmed my way up, using the foot I had on the rung to push myself up and grab the highest rung I could reach before pulling my knees up to find purchase on a higher rung. Graceful as a beached squid, I kept on going until the cover was just above my head. I had to lean back and to the side to give myself as much room as possible, but I was able to get my elbow out from under me so I could reach up and push the cover out of the way.

It didn't move.

I shoved harder, thinking it was just heavier than I was expecting, but it didn't budge at all. My heart was already hammering hard enough that I could feel my pulse throbbing behind my eyes, and now it felt as if something was about to burst. I tried to go back down. Maybe we could find some other way. Perhaps we could sleep in the tunnel till daytime and try to climb up the outside, or even just wait till Valentine was better. But I missed the rung and felt a sickening lurch as I fell.

I didn't fall far, only down to the next rung before I caught myself, but I had to stop and get my breathing under control before I could so much as think.

"Wallace," Valentine called.

"I'm okay," I insisted, "I'm okay."

It was only as my mind began to clear that I felt the throbbing pain in my knee. It was what had stopped my fall, and the rung it rested on was bent from the force of a thousand pounds of Canadian giant coming down on it.

I found my way back up on pure instinct, thrashing around like an animal until my palm found the cast iron manhole cover. I gripped the highest rung in a white-knuckled grip and slammed the heel of my hand into the cover with all the strength I could muster. The sound was deafening in the enclosed space, and the pain in my hand was tremendous. I drove my palm into the iron again and again, until both the noise and pain faded into nothing. Finally, I felt movement. It was almost imperceptible, just the slightest amount of give, but it was enough.

I roared, and slammed my hand into the centre of the manhole cover, and was rewarded with a sound like a gunshot. The cover split right down the centre, and both halves clattered to the asphalt above.

Chest heaving, warm blood running down my arm, I pulled myself up onto the road above and sprawled out on my back.

No taunts or requests for haste wafted up from below while I took a moment to centre myself once again. Counting by primes, I got as far as twenty-three, before I pushed myself back to my feet. Just because Valentine was being patient, didn't mean I needed to make her wait.

"You ready to come up?" I called down to her.

"Go ahead," came the reply.

I pulled the rope up, hand over hand, until she was close enough to reach by hand. I grabbed her by the scruff of the neck and stood her up beside the open hole, before taking up the rope once again to fetch up the packs.

I untied both them and myself from the rope and slung one over each shoulder.

When I looked up, I found Valentine standing there, holding one half of the manhole cover, "Thank you, Wallace," she said seriously.

"I hated every moment of that, and never want to do it ever again."

She hefted the half-cover, "I can tell, you see the outside edge here? This was welded shut, Wallace. Gods, you are something else."

I shrugged, "Only fair there's some upsides to looking like this."

She let it drop, and it hit the asphalt with a clang, "Is that our new hideout?"

I followed her gaze and was not disappointed. There was a hell of a lot of glass. Instead of steel, the building had what was either a stone or marble facade, though it was hard to tell in the dark.

The building had a central pillar, a backbone maybe, and there was a wing on either side. They seemed to reach out towards the viewer and had the effect of amplifying its height.

I counted ten stories. The ground floor looked to be double the height of the others, with a wide portico out front. The next eight all had wide windows with spacious balconies, either apartments or hotel rooms, and topping it all off were what I guessed was a pair of penthouses, one atop each wing.

We stood now on the road that leads towards the front of the building, and its spacious portico. On either side of the street, beyond the sidewalks and streetlights, was artfully landscaped parkland. Maybe it was just the dark, but the gentle hills and scattered trees did a pretty good job of hiding the fact that we were two stories above ground level.

"Guess so," I said with a shrug, "Let's go check it out."

I found an old enemy of mine guarding the entrance. The last time I'd tangled with one, it had required two hours and the intervention of a fire department to resolve. It was, of course, a revolving door.

Thankfully there were also a pair of standard glass doors, so I tried the handle.

"It's not locked?" Valentine asked as I pushed the doors open.

"Probably a hotel," I guessed, "An apartment building this fancy would probably have a doorman with a remote or something."

"Hotel?" she inquired.

"Like a tavern or inn," I explained.

To our left was the front desk, and behind it was a collection of keycards in little cubbyholes.

Not great. If the building's more interesting rooms were locked electronically, then we were going to have a hard time exploring. If this was going to be our party's base of operations, then I didn't want to start by busting up the place.

There were a few computers, and I could see a pair of desk phones, though not much more of interest. There'd be cash somewhere around here though. We'd have to find that eventually, if only to use the coins to fuel our magic. Whenever I got around to learning magic.

Straight down the centre was a wide carpeted area, where a hotel luggage cart sat empty, and at the far end was a bank of four elevators. A pair of glass doors flanked the elevators and led out to what looked like the hotel's parking lot. Giving up the truck wouldn't be so bad if we could find another vehicle out there, though I had no idea how we'd get it down to ground level.

Off to our right was a generously sized and well-appointed lobby. The furniture was luxurious without being ostentatious, and a few large flatscreens gave me a pretty good idea of what time period the hotel was from. Beyond that and behind a wall of high windows, occupying the hotel's east wing, was the hotel restaurant, and it finally clicked that I was able to read the signage.

I frowned and glanced back towards the front desk. It wasn't immediately clear what occupied the ground floor of the west wing, but that was a question to be answered later. For now, we needed something to eat and somewhere to sleep.

I glanced down at my clothes. Maybe a bath would also be a good idea.

Valentine gestured at the elevators with her light, "What is stored behind those doors?"

"Those are the elevators I was talking about," I explained, "But they're not going to be working right now, so we're going to need to find the stairs."

As expected, the stairs happened to be at the back of the building near the elevators. Not quite as luxurious as the rest of the building, the steps were simple concrete with metal railings and accessed through a heavy fire door.

The fire door piqued my interest though, and upon reaching the second floor, I found what I'd been hoping for.

"You see these?" I asked, raising my light high so Valentine could see, "These are sprinklers. Somewhere in the building is going to be a big tank of water, or at least I hope it's water. It's meant to put out water in case of a fire, but I'm sure we could tap into it to keep us supplied for a good long while. I'm just not sure how long the water will have been sitting stagnant in that tank though."

"The canteens we have will purify any water inside," Valentine offered, "It would take some time to purify enough water to bathe, but for drinking and cooking it should be sufficient."

"Cooking will be a little tricky, we'll probably want to do it in the hotel restaurant," I suggested, "Setting off the sprinklers by accident would be a massive pain in the ass."

Valentine tried the nearest door, and it clicked open, "Is nothing in this place locked?" she frowned.

"Huh, well it probably was locked," I realized, "Right up until the building lost power. Probably some fire code stuff, fail-safe instead of fail-secure."

Valentine turned to look at me over her shoulder, eyebrow raised, "Pardon me?"

"When there's no magic lightning running through the building to keep the lights on and power the fancy human technology, all the doors unlock so firefighters can get to people if there's an emergency."

"Magic lightning, but of course," she replied airily.

Valentine pushed the door open, and I ducked in after her.

Against the left wall were a pair of queen-sized beds, facing a big flatscreen that hung on a dividing wall in the centre of the room. On the right was a small kitchen space with a coffee maker, kettle, hotplate, and minibar. They'd all be useless without power. Even the kettle was a plastic plugin model so it wasn't as if we could hang it over a fire. The minibar might have some booze and candy in it though, but they weren't high on my list of priorities at the moment.

Further to the right, against the wall, was another door. It opened, not into an adjoining room, but the bathroom. It wasn't the most spacious, but there was a tub and a double sink.

Out of curiosity, more than anything else, I turned one of the knobs. I gave a little start when the water came flowing out and hurriedly turned off the tap. I don't know what else I'd been expecting, but it seemed as if the building's plumbing worked. All this despite me having seen the broken water main.

"Maybe there's water sitting in the pipes?" Valentine offered.

"Maybe," I agreed, "But this is a ten-story building, you know what, I bet there's a water tank on the roof."

"Do you think there would be enough to bathe?"

"I have no idea, probably? There's all sorts of regulations that decide how big these things need to be, but if this hotel can accept as many guests as I think it can, then the tank's got to be pretty big."

Valentine began to shrug out of the climbing harness, "Good enough for me."

"Alright, well those little bottles there have shampoo and conditioner. I have no idea what conditioner is for, but the shampoo will probably be better than the bar of soap you have packed."

I opened our pack and pulled out my spare set of clothes.

"I'll be in the room across the hall," I told her, "Just call me if you need anything."

The room across the hall was the mirror image of Valentine's, right down to the too-low roof. Well, too-low for me. It was just shy of eight feet, which left me to do my Quasimodo impression once again.

The shower wasn't nearly wide enough for me, and the showerhead was about sternum level, but I'd put up with worse. Besides, it was a shower. A real, human shower, and after days of hiking and my crawl through the storm drain, I wasn't about to be picky.

I closed the bathroom door and pulled down the shower rod to give myself a little more room. There was no hot water, but that was to be expected. At least the water wasn't too cold, and I had proper soap that wasn't made from tallow or lye.

I put the shower rod back once I was done and sat on the edge of the tub while I washed my clothes. There'd be a laundry room somewhere downstairs, but without power, it wasn't like I could throw my things in the washing machine. In any case, I didn't have that much to wash, and I hung them up on the shower rod once I'd finished.

Finally, I dried myself off, and upon consideration, decided that the hotel towels were likely the softest thing on the planet.

I put on the spare set of clothes and found that they weren't the best fitting. In all fairness, I hadn't been present when Valentine was gathering supplies for the journey, but she'd done a decent job. The shirt and trousers were also pretty comfortable, despite the rustic style.

I'd just started to rearrange the furniture so I'd have enough space to lie down for the night, when I heard Valentine's muffled call.

"Wallace! Wallace, you lumbering oaf!"

I crossed the hall to her room and turned the handle. The bathroom door was closed, the cold tin-coloured light of the torch spilling out from underneath, and I could hear Valentine splashing around inside.

I tapped gently on the door.

"Come in dammit," she snapped, "I didn't call you so you could stand around outside!"

I put my hand on the door handle, "Um, are you..."

"Yes, I'm covered," she insisted, "Now come in here."

I opened the door slowly, unable to shake the feeling that I'd spring some trap if I was too quick.

Valentine was sitting up in the tub. Her braid was half undone, the long purple locks fanning out in the water behind her. It was a little odd, seeing her out of her flight suit, like a turtle without a shell. She had a sturdy frame, despite her tiny size, with broad shoulders and wide flared hips. Her waist was narrow, but I could just make out the shadow of a six-pack. One arm was held across her chest, covering her slim bust, and she had an impatient look on her face.

"Wow," I breathed, "You look awful."

The bruise on her shoulder had darkened to near black and spread further across her chest and neck. Her eyes were sunken, and her skin was pallid, to the point of taking on a green tinge around the eyes and lips. The water rippled from the force of her shivering, and her back was hunched as if she were trying to wrap herself up in an absent blanket.

"Don't you know how to make a girl feel special," she grumbled.

"Are you sick?" I urged, "I don't know how well human medicine-"

She shook her head, her mouth set in a grim line, "I pushed this useless body too hard, even with the necklace, and now that I've taken it off... Well, I feel about how I look, so you can spare me the lectures. I don't want to hear you tell me how-"

"What do you need, Valentine?" I asked gently.

Her cheeks coloured, the purple flush banishing the green pallor, but only for a moment, "My shoulder's all screwed up, and I can't lift my arm high enough. Um, I need someone to help me with my hair."

I smiled, "It's alright. I don't mind."

I sat next to her on the edge of the tub and rolled up my sleeves, "Now," I said softly, "How exactly do I pull this apart?"

She turned away, a wry smile on her lips, "I'm not really in the mood for hair pulling," she replied, "There are three strands, find them, and it should be easy to make out how to undo the braid."

I started a little above where she'd stopped pulling the braid apart, and worked my way down, feeling where the thick strands of hair intertwined with each other. Her hair devolved into a tangled mess at the end of the braid, but with a little patience, I found the strands she was talking about. It was like pulling a nylon rope apart, except Valentine's hair felt more like silk than the rough synthetic fibre.

"Is there any bone in a fey body, maybe the skull?" I asked absently as I worked my way up the braid.

Valentine slapped her hand against the water, "Not one ounce," she sighed, "Sometimes I can't help but feel cursed, gods, why put me in a body like this if it's going to fight me every step of the way. I'd give up anything to have what you do, Wallace."

I frowned, "I'm not going to pretend I know what it's like to be fey, but being a giant is far from a blessing."

"How can you say that?" Valentine asked incredulously, "As undignified as it was, I felt the strength in those arms when you threw me over the fence back there. I may as well have been a rag doll. Not to mention the fact that you were able to shatter a half-inch plate of iron with your bare hands," she shook her head, "For all my teasing, you were right. Whatever Temerity's intentions for you might have been, there was nothing she could do to keep you from simply getting up and walking away. With only the clothes on your back, you could walk into any inn, tavern, or guildhall in the three cities and find work as a sellsword. One would need only to lay eyes upon your form, and you'd have people lining up to pay you a small fortune to stand at their side."

"Humans aren't meant to stand eight feet tall, or weigh a thousand pounds," I told her grimly, "The world's not designed for people my size, everywhere I go, it feels a little bit like I don't belong. And while my unique biology might lend me incredible strength, it doesn't affect the muscles that are most important. The heart, the lungs, there's a reason that people my size don't live very long. I might only have a couple more decades in me."

The braid was particularly tight at the scalp, and I was very gentle as I worked free each strand of hair, careful not to pull too hard or break any of the hairs.

Valentine was quiet for a long time before she spoke again, "Sorry, I didn't know."

"Don't be. I don't plan on dying young, just like you don't plan on putting up with the status quo forever. We'll figure something out. There'll be some way to use magic to keep my heart pumping, and help you do your best shark impression."

"Shark?" she inquired.

"An aquatic predator. They weigh as much as five thousand pounds, can swim about as fast as you were driving the truck, and bite with force measured in tons. They have multiple rows of serrated teeth and are just about the deadliest thing in the ocean. All without a single bone in their bodies."

Valentine turned to look at me over her shoulder, a small smile on her face, "You don't need to make up stories to make me feel better, Wallace."

"It's not a story!" I insisted, "Sharks are awesome, and next to dinosaurs, they're about the coolest type of animal there is. They're the object of fascination for just about every twelve-year-old boy on Earth, hell I probably did a book report on the hammerhead shark back in elementary school."

Valentine seemed unconvinced but didn't contradict me. Instead, she simply picked up the bottle of shampoo and handed it back to me.

"I hope you don't mind the smell of coconut," I remarked after glancing at the bottle.

"Coconut?" she inquired, "Do elaborate."

I flipped open the top of the bottle and held it out so she could take a whiff.

"Hmmm, rather pleasant. No, I don't mind."

I wasn't sure where to begin, I'd never had anywhere near this much hair after all. But I figured it was a safe bet to start at the bottom and work my way up.

It was quiet for a while, the only sounds being Valentine's shivering and the occasional splash. With the door closed, it was almost enough to make me forget where I was. Aside from the fact that the room was lit by magic and not the light fixtures, I might have been somewhere back on Earth in any ordinary house. For a moment I forgot the absurdity of it all.

"I'm sorry, Wallace," she said finally, breaking the spell.

"I said it was fine, Valentine. Don't worry about it."

"It's just- Most fey, my sister, for example, have servants do all this for them. Bathe them, clothe them, damn near everything. It's just that it's been a very long time since I've had anyone do the same for me."

"It makes you feel guilty," I observed, "Can't shake the connection to slavery, can you?"

Valentine shook her head, "No, no, I can't."

"Everybody needs help sometimes," I assured her, "And it's like you said, if I don't want to do something there's not a lot that someone can do to make me do it."

"Is that why you came running when I started calling your name?" she asked airily.

"Valentine, you took a bullet getting us out of there," I said flatly, "Right now I'm just glad you're not dead."

"It was the suit," she said dismissively, "Something about it makes it proof against blade and bullet alike."

"Yeah, well, it doesn't make you invulnerable," I pointed out, my gaze on her mangled shoulder, "I'm just happy you're okay- Hey, why are you laughing?"

"I've had other bodyguards Wallace, elf and goblin mercenaries. Hard men, hard women. I think most of them would find you quite intimidating," she said seriously, "But they don't know the truth," she giggled, "You're just all mushy inside!"

I didn't feel very much like I was all mushy inside. It was true, I did always try to keep my emotions in check, and that often left me coming off as stonefaced to most people. But my concern had always been letting the anger out, though to hear Valentine describe it, she seemed to think I was less grizzly bear and more teddy bear underneath.

She turned to look at me, a finger at her lips, "Don't worry, I won't tell a soul."

"Yeah yeah, turn back around so I can finish."

A shiver ran down her spine as I started on her scalp, and she let out a contented sigh.

Valentine's voice took on a sleepy quality, "Mmm, Careful around the ears,"

I chuckled, "Yes, your highness."

"Mmm, I take it back, maybe I could get used to this."

"Don't get too excited, come on, lean back so I can rinse the soap out of your hair."

She laid back in the water, her arm held loosely across her chest. She looked a little better now, laying there with her eyes closed. They weren't quite so sunken, and the green pallor had faded, but from the way she held herself, I could tell that her shoulder was still causing her a lot of pain.

"I kinda suck as a bodyguard," I muttered.

She smiled, and opened one eye to peer up at me, "Yeah, but it's okay, your big mushy heart is in the right place."

I left Valentine to get dried off and went to check out the restaurant. Judging from the timeline Valentine had given me, the hotel had been here for at least a few weeks, so most of the food would be spoiled. But there might be some stuff that was still edible, and at worst, we'd still be able to eat what we'd brought along.

I didn't smell anything funny upon pushing through the large glass doors, which I supposed was a good sign. On my left was a double row of booths, one against the glass wall dividing the restaurant from the lobby, and the other against what must have been the wall separating the dining area from the kitchen. Ahead of me was the bar, which looked generously stocked.

A good sign, I still wasn't exactly sure how long-term Valentine's plans for the place were, but the idea of turning this into the party stronghold was growing on me. In that case, the contents of the bar would be decent trade goods. Relatively valuable, and easy to transport back to one of the cities for sale.

On my right was a larger dining area, and I could see over the tables to the high glass windows that gave a good view of the parkland and distant landscapes outside.

Man, I hope the truck is still there in the morning.

I still had the parking lot to check, of course, but even if there were any vehicles, there was no guarantee they'd be of any use. If they were contemporary with the hotel and its flat screens, I'd have a much harder time hotwiring one, and of course, there was a two-story drop to contend with.

The doors to the kitchen were the sort that could swing either way, and they kept flapping slowly back and forth while I perused the available supplies. Most of the stoves looked to be gas ranges, but back in one corner, I spied a neglected electric oven. Neither was likely to be of much use any time soon, but if I could find some way to turn magic into electricity, then it would be a somewhat different story.

The knives, pots, pans, and other utensils all looked to be pretty high end. This was a pretty fancy place, after all. Some high-quality cookware might pair well with the booze if we had to make a supply run.

I picked up one of the kitchen knives. Looking it over, I doubted that even the elves could make anything this good with the tech they had available.

I returned it to its block and went to the back of the kitchen where two heavy insulated doors sat. A walk-in fridge and walk-in freezer, I guessed, since one of them still had frost covering the little window in the door.

I paused, and it took a moment to click, and then I was hurriedly wiping off the frosty window to look inside. I dared not to open it. Without power, it was only the thick insulation keeping the interior chilled, and I wasn't about to put a six-foot hole in that insulation just so I could get a better look. Bending down to peer through the inch-thick window, I couldn't make out exactly what was stocked on the shelves, but whatever it might be, there was undoubtedly an ample supply.

A puzzle for later, I told myself. I had to get us something to eat today, and if the freezer had waited weeks, it could sit for a couple more days.

I didn't open the fridge either, but that was more in fear of the smell than anything else. I could see that some of the produce still looked pretty good, but most of the rest was going to be pretty far past its sell-by date. The window was admittedly a little cool to the touch but was still a lot nearer to room temperature than was strictly safe.

Thankfully there were some dry and canned goods stocked on shelves against one wall of the kitchen—flour, oats, and a couple of different mixes. I was kinda surprised to see cookie mix on the shelf of what was supposed to be a high-end restaurant, but maybe it was for room service orders or something. As much as I liked the idea of some warm chocolate chip cookies, it was the canned food that had the most promise. There weren't any ready-made meals, no cans of chicken soup or the like, but there was broth, tomato sauce, that sort of thing. Between that and what we'd brought along, it was little trouble to put together a workable recipe for chicken noodle soup.

I propped open the back door and built a fire outside. Maybe I'd be able to build a fire in or on one of the ovens, under a range hood for example, but even if it did work, it would make a hell of a mess.

Valentine had been the one to cook previously, and not knowing what else to do when cooking over a fire, I just dumped everything in the pot and stirred it while I waited for it to boil.

I heard the door to the kitchen flap open a little while later, and leaned back to see Valentine, in shorts and a tank top, coming to find me. She hadn’t rebraided her hair, and instead it fell in waves down to her hips, still a little damp from the bath.

"Are we eating out here?" she frowned.

I shooed her away, "No, go find a place to sit out front. I'll bring it to you when it's good and ready."

She raised her hands, the gesture a little lopsided with her injured shoulder, "Fine, I'll busy myself looting the bar."

I found Valentine sitting in the last booth, one of those that had been on the left when I'd come in. She had a whiskey glass in front of her, though it was brimming with white wine. The open bottle sat at her elbow.

I set the tray on the table, and she didn't waste any time in taking one of the bowls.

She winced and set it down a little too quickly.

"Careful," I chided, "It's hot."

She glared at me, but a retort was not forthcoming.

Valentine blew on the soup gingerly before taking a spoonful and lifting it to her lips.

"It is, acceptable," she said generously.

I lifted my spoon, "High praise."

Valentine took a long draw from her whiskey-come-wine glass, "What is this exactly?"

"Chicken noodle soup. It's what you're supposed to have when you're not feeling well."

"Why?" she frowned.

"No idea, I don't make the rules."

She rolled her eyes, "Whatever the case may be, thank you for making me dinner, Wallace. I promise we can start on some magic tomorrow."

I nodded, "I've been thinking about that. I want to give this building a proper once-over, another task for tomorrow, but from what I've gathered so far, the building is pretty much pristine. All the infrastructure is here, plumbing, heating, all the appliances seem to work. It's just disconnected from the electrical grid and water supply."

Valentine arched an eyebrow, "And you hope to use magic to replace such things?"

"It would certainly make life easier. Maybe we won't be conjuring water and electricity out of thin air, but as a tool to build something that could do it, magic would be a big help. Once we've got water and power, we're good to go," I jerked a thumb back towards the kitchen, "I don't know if you saw it, but we've got a fridge and freezer. The freezer is even still cold. With proper refrigeration, it's not going to take much work to make this place self-sufficient. Or at least as self-sufficient as we'd like it to be."

She fixed me with a surprised look, "You want to stay? To live here?"

I shrugged, "If you've got a better idea, I'd be glad to hear it."

Valentine considered for a moment and ate another spoonful of soup. Finally, she shook her head, "I hadn't thought that far ahead. I wasn't even sure I was going to escape. For all I know, I might yet be dragged back to Pelignos," she pointed out.

"Want," I insisted, "Right at this moment, what do you want to do. Forget my idea for the moment, forget about familial obligations, forget practicalities, what do you want to do."

She smirked, "Well, I was planning on using my payout from Vivian to live like a princess at The Blushing Maiden, leaving occasionally when boredom struck to go surveying, but your idea is growing on me."

"Blushing Maiden?"

"A bordello in Caniforma. As a client, not merchandise," she clarified, giggling, "Aww, the big mushy giant is blushing. You asked," she pointed out.

I put my hand to my forehead, "I suppose I did. And while I do think it would be a good idea to have more than just the two of us here-"

"You're serious?" she teased, "Okay, what about servants then? The kind who don't mind if you bend them over a convenient piece of furniture?"

Now I had both hands over my face, "Oh my god," I muttered in a small voice.

"Fine, fine, working girls no, servants yes. We can save the discussion of just how extensive the servants' duties are, for later."

I made sure that Valentine got settled in her room, and returned to mine to finish rearranging things. There was a nightstand with a lamp in between the two queen beds, which I picked up and set to the side so I could push the beds together. A queen-sized bed is five feet wide, so after some shoving, pulling, and rearranging of sheets, I had ten feet of bed to lay down on. The gap where the two beds met was a bit of a bother, but at that point, I may as well have been looking for things to complain about. A soft bed, hotel sheets with an absurd thread count, what was there to dislike?

Tired as I was from the day's events, if you could call it a day without a sun in the sky, I found it easy to fall asleep.

I was roused from sleep sometime later, perhaps a few minutes, perhaps several hours. The sun had not yet risen, and unless I'd really lost track of time, shouldn't for another twenty or so hours. I rolled over in bed, wondering if I really had heard something, or if I'd just been dreaming, and remained very still.

It occurred to me that neither of us had bothered to clear the building, and while I'd taken it on faith that it would be empty, as the gas station and neighbourhood had been, it was possible that we weren't alone.

There it was. Soft, regular breathing, coming from somewhere close. I reached very slowly for the nightstand where the torch lay waiting, and all but holding my breath, I picked it up and turned it to its lowest setting. So low that had Valentine been looking at it, she might not have known it was on.

Almost perfectly night-adapted after sleeping for a couple hours, the additional light was all I needed to make out the interior of my room. Nothing looked different, but now that I knew what to look for, I was sure I could still hear the breathing.

The bedframe creaked imperceptibly as I leaned over the side, and I held the light high to reveal- It was Valentine, the sneaky little minx. She was sleeping on the floor beside my bed. Or rather, beds. She'd gathered up all the blankets in her room and piled them up in a little nest. Judging from the amount of purple I could see, she wasn't wearing much beyond the blankets. Though I could see one of her wheellocks close at hand, just beyond her nest.

I rolled back over and put the torch away. Valentine seemed perfectly content where she was, and I wasn't sure that inviting her to join me would give the right impression. Life had been a little bit crazy since getting hit by the truck, and was just now starting to calm down a little. Stirring things up would be a problem for another day.