Chapter 46

Red

Margaux

My presence was enough to choke the butlers red in the face. My presence was grand enough that the crowd had been ushered out of my sight. My presence was so demanding that a dozen butlers attended to me. My words broke their stoic visage—every one—and they could only squirm in anger. What runts of the human race they were. And doing as rats do, they polluted and barricaded the little archway to Hiccup’s mansion. How fitting that the entrance was the size of a mouse hole compared to that of my crystal fortress. And what would Hiccup know about architecture and high design?

“Tell him I know something about Ashlee,” I said.

Donelle pulled at his collar and continued to argue with me. Squirming, voice low, he said, “Madam, how dare you.”

“I’m here to apologize. To make amends. I mean to start by telling Hiccup exactly how Ashlee passed.”

The boring part was in waiting for these small brained butlers to process information. Great strategy was forged in the slow burn of patience, and a predator always got what she hunted.

Donelle moved off, without a word, to confer with lesser butlers. Their heads bobbed as they whispered, and if they had tails, they would have seemed to jump as mice do before the lying cat. Donelle returned, angrier than when he’d walked away from me. He cleared his throat.

“Lady Devrei,” he said. “Welcome to The Grande, Mansion of gold rank Ethan Hiccough. Please, this way.”

Yes, lead me through the mouse hole into Hiccup’s mansion. This is what I wanted. It had taken the better part of an hour to finally force my way in. But how good it felt! Having these rodents, charged with keeping me at bay, suddenly capitulate—nay, serve me—was an exercise in my simplest forms of perfection.

I matched the brisk stride of the pack and was led into the foyer. My footfalls were quiet, deliberate, and I’m sure some part of each butler was impressed with the way I glided across the marble foyer. A foyer whose details became too intimate to me with how long I waited. Hiccup must have been testing my patience. Not a seat was offered. I was simply left in the cold shade just out of reach of the sun. But I could stay on my feet longer than anyone.

The columns were garish. The gold rings which lay as tarnished loops at the foot of each one were garish. The dome was smudged and garish. The coffered walls—garish. Just standing there waiting made me feel like a goddess among dross.

At last, Hiccup arrived, hands in his pockets, no sign of emotion, thus no window for me to pick out his vital points.

“What do you want?” He said.

“A chance to say a few words,” I said, but looked only at the butlers. “In private.”

Hiccup went through emotions. I saw them all. Annoyance, distrust, but it wasn’t even curiosity that won out. It was hope. Hope that I did have something about Ashlee’s death.

“To the cave, then,” he said.

He was curt, and sans butler led the way down to his cave. It was catacomb like. Instead of bones, nooks and pockets were filled with bottles of old beer. Not forty paces within, past half a dozen rows of corridors that looked bottomless, we stopped at a hearth. I uncorked a bottle of a Spark & Flame attribute lager and poured a libation into the hearth. It came alight with gray flames. Then yellow flames. Several couches seemed to be in their second century of dutifully watching the hearth. Sharp shadows made a grand deal of small cracks in the leathers. Hiccup sat himself in one. It coughed from a seam that was slashed open like a split lip.

“You should offer your superior a seat,” I said.

“Fine,” he said. “Sit down.”

How dare he? I hated gritting my perfect teeth together. Hated feeling the knot in my jaws. It was unbecoming of a beautiful lady to put such stress on a perfect face. The rat king would regret treating me so disrespectfully. I was going to choose my weapon very carefully in the coming conversation.

I paced for a moment, then sat.

I said, “I want-”

“-Quite the coincidence you’re here the day Abigail is,” he said.

I gave my best smile, made sure he saw it, and said, “is she?”

“‘Is she?’ asks the diamond rank Brewer. Margaux, you want something. Out with it.”

“I want to know all about this Hawkin boy. I want to know where he is.”

“I have no idea. You’ve wasted your time.”

But I knew things. I may not have been around every second of the day, but Abigail had been bound to reveal Hawkin’s whereabouts.

Since I was in control, I let the silence between us threaten the flames in the hearth. The fire crackled. Our even breathing made nearly invisible plumes. I didn’t mind staring at Hiccup. I watched him. Studied him for his emotions.

Hiccup broke eye contact at last.

“Is that all?” He said to the floor.

“Yes,” I said. “I suppose that’s all. Will you escort me out?”

Hiccup frowned in thought. I leaned forward in my seat.

“You have information about Ashlee’s death,” he said.

“Hmm?”

“Margaux.”

‘Oh, oh yes, you’ll have to excuse me, I’ve almost forgotten. You’re familiar with that feeling. There’s something on the grocery list all the way at the bottom, something you just forget to buy everytime you go out.”

“That’s progress if you’re doing your own groceries now.”

There it was. I knew he was scum, unable to hold back a jab. I refrained from rolling my eyes back in euphoria. God damn what a good feeling! Flushing out the quarry!

“I’ll tell you everything I know if you tell me everything you know,” I said.

“We’ll see.”

“I’d better return another time when you’re more malleable.”

“Wait,” Hiccup said. He brought up a thumbnail to chew, like a self-cleaning rodent. I had to wrinkle my nose at the sight. “If you really do have information on Ashlee, I’ll…”

He wouldn’t return to his trail of thought, so I said, “I just want to know where he is.”

“Please, tell me about Ashlee.”

I leaned back, and felt the cracked leather snag me. “Her death was an unfortunate mistake,” I whispered. “I saw it happen.”

Hiccup leaned toward me and said, “Speak up, Margaux, I can barely hear you.”

“I saw it,” I muttered. “She was on the cliffs.”

Hiccup scooted to the edge of his seat. “Dammit Margaux,” he said. “Stop whispering. Please.”

He was nearly out of his seat, his knee looking for a spot on the stone floor. This time I couldn’t help but roll my eyes to the back of my head. I put a hand to my chest, but masked the euphoria by saying, “forgive me, even the memory is traumatic. Ashlee had one of my beers—but it was the wrong beer. It wasn’t supposed to be an Illusion attribute.”

Hiccup’s knee touched the floor. He was knelt before me!

“You,” he seethed.

“We had just been talking. She was in love with you, Ethan. She wanted wedlock. That’s what she and I talked about on the cliffs.”

“I swear on her grave,” he said, biting the words.

I made myself ignorant to his anger and said, “What she thought she had was one of my Salve of Youth ales. She received it in one of her loot chests and, naturally, she was excited to drink something diamond rank. Especially from me, of course.” Hiccup’s hands balled. He trembled, and I was afraid I might not come down from the high that I felt. But there was work to be done and I had to keep grounded. “I realized too late,” I continued. “She drank that beer and must have thought the cliff was further out than it really was and… …I couldn’t save her in time.”

Hiccup faltered. He frowned once again. “How did she mistake them? What did you do?”

“Me? Potere’s the one responsible. I followed my system—I remember specifically donating the Salve of Youth attribute beer in exchange for a shard. Lo and behold, there it was in my inventory. Instead, I was missing one of my Illusion attribute ales. And if Ashlee thought the cliffs extended further out than they really did, she would have walked straight off. That’s what she did, Ethan. She walked straight off, blissfully unaware.”

“Potere is a god, Margaux. A switch of two different beers like that does not happen.”

“Well it did. Everyone knows that shard quests only take a specific item. In my case, it was the Salve of Youth beer—it was supposed to be!”

“You think I’m stupid.”

“Why would I kill Ashlee? Think, Hiccup. Ashlee was a nice girl. Not smart. Not special. Just nice. That’s all she was. She was never a threat to me. Never could be. I don’t go around killing nice girls. Our god made a mistake. Take it up with him.”

It was all too much for Hiccup. He blinked as though his mind were convulsing, as though his entire reality quaked. But melancholy tainted hope filled his eyes. “What was your shard quest?” He said.

“It was for the hurricane bottle skill book. The same one the Alik family uses.”

“Show me.”

I manifested a glimmering shard from the yet unfinished shard quest. He took the item into his inventory, pitching us back into the high contrast of dark depth and bright flame. His eyes read words I couldn’t see.

He returned the shard, and the hope dimmed from his eyes. “You’re telling the truth,” he said. I couldn’t tell if he was struggling with surprise or disbelief. All I knew was that he bought my every word. Bought it all. My heart raced!

“Where’s the boy?” I said.

Hiccup smiled faintly. “I don’t know,” he said.

“May I remind you that you made a deal with your superior. Live up to your word.”

“The flesh of the matter is that I don’t know where Hawkin is. He lives north in the wilderness beyond Lunstad. That’s all I know.”

“Don’t toy with me.”

“I’m telling you everything I know.”

I couldn’t believe it. What a waste of my time!

“I have too much faith in you goddamn people,” I growled. “I will make you pay for wasting my time.”

I stormed away, seeing red.