Although she knew it was silly, Razia felt bad about staying home while Quentin and the boys went off to war. It’s not like there was anything she could contribute in a real fight. Razia was not only small and not a fighter, but she knew she’d be an active liability and getting caught would ruin everything. Still, she felt guilty that Quentin and their new friends were out picking a fight while she stayed home where it was safe.

Razia wasn’t the type to avoid trouble, although she supposed that was starting to change. It was getting harder and harder to laugh and bloody someone’s nose or bruise their ego without it becoming a whole thing. Co-owning her own business forced something on her Razia thought she’d be able to escape forever: responsibility. She couldn’t run from the fact that she was responsible for people now. Just as much as Quentin.

It wasn’t the only issue. Ever since coming back from the dead (near dead? Mostly dead?) things had been so hectic there hadn’t been enough time to truly spend it together and be grateful for another chance. It made sense with how much there was to do and the whole starting a street war thing, but that didn’t stop Razia from wishing the world would just stand still and let her take a grateful breath with Quentin. Especially knowing that although he couldn’t easily be killed, he was on limited time. How could anyone know that and not want to be close to their partner?

“Worrying about things isn’t going to make him come home any sooner or safer,” Isa said to her, shaking her from her thoughts.

Like usual, they were sitting around the Atrium. The few girls that were there. They were closed for the day, mostly. It was by appointment only while Quentin and his Shades were out. Occasionally there’d be a knock at the door, or one of the girls would grab a gladiator and go off to their client’s homes, collecting nearly double the price for being willing to travel to an awaiting lech in need. It felt slower than it was, with Razia and Isa the only ones without a client.

“Not worrying isn’t going to make me worry any less,” said Razia.

“That doesn’t even make any sense!” Isa snapped.

“Yeah, well…” Razia had nothing. “You think you have any room to speak? You’re sitting right here with me, worrying away.”

“I’m not worrying,” Isa scoffed. She looked away, waving her hand dismissively at Razia. “I’m just killing time until things can get back to normal. If they can ever get back to normal after the shit you’ve brought down.”

Almost as one they turned to look at the statue of the Pierced Heart, still reaching for the heavens. Razia shuddered, remembering how it felt when the room buzzed with energy and the ritual felt more real than just about anything else she had done. “There’s no coming back from that. You regret taking part in it?” she asked.

Isa shook her head. “I don’t regret that. Not if it helped. I’m just…”

“Worried?” Razia grinned. “Worrying isn’t going to make the other shoe drop more gently,” she teased. “Besides, hasn’t this gotten you more business than usual? Everyone wants to be whipped by the woman who helped bring a man back from the dead.”

“Like I need more business. They all expect a miracle from me, as if I had anything to do with it.” Isa hugged herself, looking disturbed in spite of her usual mask of toughness. “Lucy’s had it even worse. People have been treating her like a pain doll, seeing if they can get some kind of holy vision from torturing her.”

“She hasn’t complained,” said Razia.

Isa shot her a withering look. “She wouldn’t. She doesn’t want to disappoint you and she wants enough money to save up and maybe get out while she’s still young. At least she’s not panicking anymore, but I’m telling you, you better keep a guard near her door especially at all times, just in case.”

To Isa’s surprise, Razia nodded along with her. “You’re right. You and her both need increased security and should probably raise your prices, just to avoid getting bogged down. Or you could take a break, if you wanted. You know, maybe explore some personal interests.” She grinned again, and it only widened at the pure venom in Isa’s eyes.

“I think I’m going to take the day off,” said Isa, getting up. “Not like I’m hurting for shards right now, and I think the company will be better in my room.”

“Should I see if Quentin wants to visit you when he comes back?” Razia fluttered her eyelashes at Isa. The dusk-girl growled and left in a huff. Razia fell back into her seat, laughing merrily.

It was a nice distraction while it lasted, but it didn’t last long. With Isa gone, Razia was left alone with her thoughts, which now included wondering how much time was left for her if Quentin did split his attention. She meant it when she said she had no intentions of being tied down, but there was a difference between being tied down and basking in someone’s company as long as possible. Alone, Razia went into the kitchen and came out with some wine and bread.

About twenty minutes later, Cullen came in from the street, along with Doug, one of the gladiators. They were laughing about something, but Doug stayed back as Cullen went over to the nearest couch and fell into it.

“Gods,” he groaned in his deep, rumbling voice, “it never ends. I swear, I’ve never slept so well as I have the past week. Everyone wants a piece. Not that I’m complaining,” he added, flashing a crooked smile at Razia. “Far from it. It’s nice to have steady work.”

“How was your client?” Razia asked, sitting up on her knees. “Anything special or unusual happen?”

Cullen smiled and sat back, looking like a big lazy predator. “Is an hour of cuddling afterwards and a marriage proposal unusual? I think she liked me. Wanted to keep me all to herself.”

Razia laughed. “Oh, I could see it. A big, strong ox like you being a kept boy for some lonely widow. Imagine the uniform she could have for you, just a few wraps of silk and a collar around your neck.”

He reached for his throat, making a face. “Razia, please. I just got here, I don’t need to get so excited I go running back and accept her offer.”

“You’re right,” she said, “you’re much too valuable to us to be someone’s pet. If need be, I’ll collar and keep you instead.”

His lips twitched in a tiny smile. Cullen had a way of always looking like he was trying to avoid smiling. Between that and his soft manner of speaking, it went a long way towards softening his look. His reputation as a tamed bad boy was rising, and Razia loved to see him come into his own. It was easy for newer hires to not fit in when you had a good close knit group like the Garden was. Growth had been good, and there was still plenty further they could go.

“Um, excuse me?” Doug called back out. He had shaggy brown hair he brushed out of his face. “Razia? There’s this woman here to see you. Says she’s from the temple.”

The temple? Razia caught Cullen’s eye and made a face. He chuckled. At this point everyone at the Garden knew about Razia’s antipathy with the Temple of the Pierced Heart. It was almost a running joke. She was faithful and truly believed, especially after the ritual, but belief wasn’t based on mortal hierarchies and politicking. Razia finished her glass of wine and set the glass down on the floor.

“I’ll deal with her,” said Razia, sighing. If nothing else, this would be something to occupy her time while Quentin went out and picked a fight for both of them. Isa may have been a bitch, but she wasn’t wrong. Worrying didn’t help anyone. She followed Doug back to the entryway, where a pale, blonde woman waited.

The woman’s skin was creamy, which only made the spread of tattoos stand out more. Flowers of all kinds lined her arms, all attached to a vine wrapping around her biceps in a spiral going up to her wrists, where her palms were two spread Orchrisus’. In spite of herself, Razia found herself impressed. It took a special kind of dedication and fortitude to dedicate your body to art and worship, and Razia would know. Every one of her piercings meant something.

“Damn,” said Razia as she closed the difference, “it’s not often I see a priestess who looks like she enjoys being art. Are you sure you’re from the temple? You don’t look like you have a pole up your ass.”

The blonde woman burst out laughing and then caught herself, embarrassed. “Wow. They weren’t kidding when they warned me about you. I was expecting a bit of a warm up before you started in.”

“Aww, they talk about me?” Razia clutched her chest theatrically. “Warn, even? Nice to know I made a big impact. What else did they say?”

The woman shook her head, chuckling. “Just that you spit acid, have a venomous bite, and that your ego could blot out the sun. I don’t know about the last part, but the other two sound believable. My name is Maralana. I’m here about a potential miracle.” She offered her hand.

In spite of herself, Razia took it. “Razia Rashid, as I’m sure you’re aware. You came to the right place. The Pierced Heart visited the Garden and gave their blessing. And I’ve got three dozen eyewitnesses who can back me up.”

“That’s a big claim,” said Maralana, smile faltering. “And why they sent me.You’ve pissed off a lot of people in high places, Razia, including in the temple.”

“Yeah, well, they can get in line to kiss my ass,” Razia replied brightly. “I’ve got much bigger problems than some stuffy stuck up people who think they’re better than everyone. Gods, you people aren’t even in my top three worries.”

“Reconsider,” said Maralana with a grimace. “You don’t want the negative attention they could visit upon this place. Look, let’s focus on the miracle, yeah?”

This was Razia’s chance to pick a fight, to piss someone powerful off and laugh about it. It should’ve been an easy decision to go for it, if only for a way to pass the time while Quentin was gone. She could picture the exasperated look on his face if he saw her now. Maybe that was why she decided to behave. “The miracle, sure. Come on in.”

Maralana craned her head, looking around the villa as they made their way in. Razia slowed down to allow the priestess to get a good look in. “This place is much cleaner and nicer than I was expecting,” she said, stopping at an enormous potted plant with bright orange fronds. “And tasteful too. I love it.”

“Why would you expect any different?” Razia didn’t hide her irritation. “Did you expect some filthy shithole?”

The priestess flinched. “No, gods no, that’s not what I meant. Do you have any idea how many whorehouses I’ve investigated that have claimed some kind of blessing or miracle? Most of them aren’t dirty, but they’re not pretty either. Some are comfortable, but this kind of house and care for aesthetics isn’t common. If there was a miracle, I’m glad it was here and not somewhere else.” She smiled. “Take the damned compliment.”

“Fine, I can understand that.” Razia gestured to the room and said, “I’ve worked in places like those. I wanted something better. Quentin and I work our asses off to provide a clean, safe, tasteful experience to our patrons. And I personally pray and dedicate my work to the Pierced Heart. I know at least a few others do the same. We honor them as you do.”

Maralana held out her hands, displaying twin flowers. “I believe you. I know you have your problems with members of the faith, but I am not them. I respect what you are doing here. I even respect you, despite how difficult you’re making it.”

Shit. Razia frowned. She was right, Razia was making it hard for no reason. All because of her stupid pride. This wasn’t an enemy, she was a potential ally. Taking a deep breath, Razia bowed her head. “You’re right. You’re not them. They’ve left an impression on me that has me defensive. Forgive me.”

Maralana nodded her way and walked by, brushing her hand against Razia’s arm. Together they went into the atrium. It was still just them, and the priestess immediately went to the statute. She reached out, stopping just shy of touching it. Razia watched from a few feet away, studying her expression. Maralana went from surprise to rapturous joy in seconds.

“Gods, I can feel it. I can feel them.” Her hands shook until she pulled them away.

“It was like nothing I’ve ever experienced,” said Razia, brightening up. “Everyone could feel it. There’s no question it was real. And then, when the ritual was concluded, the statue moved and we felt them here, for just a second. And then the Pierced Heart was gone.”

The statue stood there, unmoving. Razia didn’t know what she expected. For the statue to strike a pose or get hard or have a conversation, maybe. Nothing happened, but she could swear she still felt something from the statue. And evidently she wasn’t the only one. Maralana’s fingers kept twitching the closer they were to the statue, but she didn’t dare touch it.

“Tell me about this ritual,” she said, eyes locked on the statue’s featureless face.

Razia came up beside her. “Well, it started with noticing the date and a man halfway between life and death…”

In the all too brief moments shared with Quentin after his return, they’d discussed it and decided to go with as close to the truth as possible. Not only would they not have to agree upon a lie, they could let the information work for them. So Razia told her almost everything, leaving out the part where Quentin claimed to be immortal and would’ve come back to life on his own eventually. By the time Razia was done, Maralana needed to sit down.

“So,” said Razia, refilling her wine and offering the glass to the priestess, “Do you see many real miracles?” she asked.

With a shaky hand Maralana took it and drained the glass. That settled her nerves some. “Some. A few every year. None quite this big or impactful. You really brought your dead lover back to life? You must see how skeptical we all are of that claim.”

Of course Quentin had to be out right when his presence would lend some credence. Or maybe it wouldn’t and Maralana would blame it on being touched by the Darkstar. It wouldn’t be wrong, but it would be inconvenient. Having an actual bona fide miracle happen in the Garden was sure to give their business a boost and was likely to protect them. More reputation to use as a shield. Razia took the wine glass back and filled it.

“We really did. We kept his body and made sure to help keep it from rotting. A week passed as we gathered the objects needed for the ritual and made sure we had enough people. The ritual completed, the statue moved, and Quentin came back to life.” Razia took a sip, smiling. It was nice to be taken seriously, even if it was accompanied by question after question. “Like I said, there were dozens of eyewitnesses who watched Quentin die and almost as many who took part in the ritual.”

“But no one was actually there with Quentin when he supposedly came back to life?” Maralana pressed.

Razia paused. “Technically not. As soon as the ritual was over I ran in there and he was breathing again. I know what I saw.”

Maralana looked at the statue again. Her tongue darted out to wet her lips as she mulled over what she was going to say. “I’ve seen the results of some miracles. I’ve seen a young woman survive a beating from a rapist that would’ve ended anyone and all the pain she received was dished back out at him. That was real.

“I’ve talked to a man who was born with…Underdeveloped bits. Years of going to the temple and praying and he became the envy of the neighborhood. Trivial and petty as that was, that was a real miracle.” Maralana took a deep breath. “Do you know why I’m the one they send to investigate miracles?”

Razia had a suspicion. “Tell me.”

“I was born on the spring equinox,” said Maralanna, confirming those suspicions. “They say I’m touched, and I can sense other things touched by our god/ess of in between. I can feel the blessings the priests given out, and the little rivulets of power trickling off of them. I can sense when someone or something has been touched by the gods. I’m drawn to it. What you have here is a real miracle,” she said. “One of the most powerful ones I’ve felt.”

“Exactly as I thought,” said Razia.

“Which is a problem,” Maralana sighed. “Some of the higher ups really, really don’t care for you. Apparently you used a temple service to try to drum up business?”

“I was trying to bribe a man to save a woman’s life, but okay,” Razia returned with a frosty smile. “Sister Sylvia caught me and decided what happened without speaking to me about it.”

Maralana held her flowered hands up. “Look, all I know is you sucked a man’s dick during temple services and you and your lover apparently were acting threatening to some of the acolytes. The point is, you’re not a very popular figure with the priesthood right now. I’m going to be honest. I’m going to declare that this wasn’t a miracle.”

Maybe it really was a sign that she was maturing and thinking things through, that she didn’t immediately go on the offensive or say something to try to get into the priestess’ skin. Instead all of Razia’s irritation collapsed to a fine, inescapable point. From that tight anger came a single word. “What?”

The priestess stood up and paced in front of the statue. Being near it seemed to both agitate her and give her some bravery. “People higher than me have made it clear that if there was a real miracle based around your actions, there’s going to be a problem. Especially if people start seeing you as touched by divinity, a viable alternative to the temple.”

“Are you serious?” Razia said, heat building up throughout the entirety of her body. “You’re going to declare this a non-miracle because the church is threatened by a singular whorehouse run by someone they have a mild disagreement with?”

Maralana shook her head fiercely. “No, I’m going to declare this a non-miracle to protect you, Razia. If I admit that this was not only real but the strongest miracle I’ve felt in years, you’ll be under a lot more scrutiny. Not everyone who works for the temple is a good person. Some are very protective of the sanctity and dignity of the church. Do you understand me?”

Yes, Razia understood perfectly well. If this was a real miracle and if they had to deal with it, chances are there would be more people after her life. It would be more convenient to shut her up than have to deal with a rival, no matter how small. Well, tough shit. It seemed to her like the temple was the problem, not her. “Say what you have to. I’ll never shut up about this miracle,” said Razia.

“Good. I hope you don’t. What you experienced is special,” Maralana finally risked touching the statue. It was like a wave passed over her. Her eyes turned pure white. Razia almost was alarmed, but there were few things about the statue that could surprise her at this point. When Maralana removed her hand, color returned to her eyes and she shuddered violently. “There’s a piece of them in this statue left behind. I can feel it.

“Don’t ever turn away from how real this is,” Maralana insisted. “Claim it’s a miracle to your dying day. Never let the truth be buried. But as far as the temple is concerned, it’s a false alarm. That’s the way it has to be. Do you understand me?”

Razia nodded. “Yes. I don’t like it, but I understand. You bastards should be trying to get in good with me and see why we were chosen.”

“I agree,” said Maralana gently. “And I hope you understand what I’m doing is for your benefit. You may have some quarrels with the temple, but I have no quarrels with you. And if you ever need to return to the temple for any reason, even if it’s just worship…Ask after me, and I’ll make sure you can get in.” She offered her hand once more.

Razia took it. “I appreciate that. I just may take you up on it some time. Is there anything else I can do for you?”

Maralana smiled. “Just keep doing whatever you’re doing. If another miracle happens, maybe that can fix things with the temple. They won’t be able to ignore you then, for better or worse.”

After the miracle seeker left, Razia collapsed into Quentin’s plush chair. She was still worried about him and the raid, but now she had plenty to think about on her own. Just as they were starting to deal with one problem, another was popping up. If nothing else, maybe Maralana proved the temple wasn’t without redeeming qualities. Just one person could hardly change an entire institution, but Razia knew the value of a well placed friend.

So what if the miracle was denied? There was no denying what happened there, and how it changed them. Razia had to take it as a good sign going forward. It let her see a future without Christophe and Piro, without being attacked. A future where a simple whorehouse could be a real place of worship. Razia smiled. Now there was a place to start.

And maybe it would still piss someone off in the end. Fingers crossed!