After the better part of three weeks stuck at the Garden, Razia refused to stay behind this time. It could be dangerous, but that was half the fun. Besides, they needed a united front and to make it clear they were a duo and not just that whore and her puppet, or the moonkissed and his pet. Their reputation remained their greatest weapon and defense, and they used it as they sought out the other north side gangs to hash things out.

Hash things out, or make it clear that fucking with them meant death.

They were accompanied by Jonas, Pete, and Jinnis, all armed with knives and chitin armor. Walking the streets with their men behind them, most people gave Quentin and Razia their space. Things were different now. The Boulevard had been one of the safest places in the city, constantly patrolled and kept prosperous. Christophe’s attack changed that.

No one walked around alone, even during the day. Pairs and trios moved from business to business, not making eye contact with anyone save the few merchants they visited. The merchants themselves were still in the process of rebuilding, and more than a few of them had new hired guards. A single person watching over their stalls or little shops wouldn’t do much against a gang, but Razia knew how much they needed to believe they would be safe.

Gang wars came and went, but Orchrisus had enjoyed a fairly long period of prosperity and relative peace. People fought, crimes were committed, and here and there a dead body would be found, but it was the price of doing business in such a huge, rich city. The street war reminded the people anyone could be a victim, even if they had nothing of value or were themselves invisible. Shit happened.

The five of them headed east down the Boulevard, for the third stop of the day. The first two had gone by passingly well. The first gang, the Bones Club, were about as dumb as their name. They laughed in their faces and the leader threatened the Garden unless they gave tribute to him every week. Quentin broke both of his arms before reminding the rest of his gang that he could’ve killed him. All in all, Razia considered that a win.

The second meeting was with Shapiro’s crew. Rather than having a dumb name, they just followed their leader, a dark featured man with striking eyes and a pleasantly low voice. That meeting had gone even better. Neither Shapiro nor his crew gave a damn about the Moonlit Garden or coming after Quentin and Razia. They, like many others, were waiting to see how the chips fell before they cast their lot. They promised nothing other than temporary neutrality and disinterest. Good enough, honestly.

The third group was one that made Razia nervous. Mouse was a pleasant enough guy for a violent thug, but his gang were infamous for their relative power compared to their small size. Down south, the best gangs had the most people willing to fight. Up here, Mouse’s people were more normal fare. Highly skilled, smaller groups of people who didn’t fight over territory so much as fought over the best jobs and happened to hold territory.

Specifically, one of the biggest insula on the upper east side, right smack dab in the middle of a major crossroads going all four directions, and one of the three roads leading north up out of town and into the great desert, where the caravans went on east to Avarast and Bellamoore. A lot of traffic in that area, more than enough to be considered a key point.

“He seemed okay when I met him,” said Quentin as they stood outside the insula. It stood at four stories of tightly packed small homes, and the majority of the gang lived there alongside their extended families. It didn’t look like anything special, but it was clean and there were only a few dicks drawn on the walls.

“That was when he was at a party in our honor, welcoming us,” Razia reminded him. “And before Cicero was assassinated. We’ve got no idea how he’s going to react to us now. For all we know it could be like the Bone Club.”

Behind her, Jinnis snickered. “Booooone cluuuuub,” he said, drawing the words out dramatically. “If this Mouse is anything like them, we’ll have some fun and be on our way.”

Quentin looked over his shoulder, half smiling. “Mouse is a big fucker,” he said. “Not Christophe big but strong and seemed to have a level head on his shoulders. Just don’t make fun of him and we should be fine, right?”

“Right,” said Razia.

As they approached the insula, a young boy looked them over and ran inside. Razia motioned for them to stop and wait outside. They stood there for a few minutes, the later spring son beating down on them. Eventually Mouse and a few of his men came out, dressed for a fight.

“Oh, it’s you two,” said Mouse, sounding less surprised than resigned. “You here to try to make demands or make friends?”

“The latter, preferably,” said Razia. “Mind if we come in out of the sun?”

Mouse grunted and pointed to his left. “Across the street. Drinks on me. Assuming you’re operating in good faith.”

“We are,” said Quentin, inclining his head and pushing his shades back up his nose. “We don’t want a fight unless it’s necessary.”

That earned them another grunt. The five of them followed Mouse into a dim, small pub. Not many people were in there, and the ones that were clearly belonged to him. Mouse approached a table and the occupants cleared off, taking drinks and in one case a full plate of food with them to another table. He sat with his back to the wall, motioning to the bartender for three drinks.

Quentin nodded to his men and they sat at the bar. Jinnis kept his eye on the door, Pete his eye on the other patrons, and Jonas kept watch over them. Overall, Razia wasn’t worried and she sat down next to the wall, with her lover between her and any potential attackers. A second later a waitress came by with three bottles of mead.

Mouse grabbed his and took a drink. “Well, you got me here. Speak your piece.”

Razia took the lead. “Things are pretty shit right now and dangerous,” she said, deciding not to fluff him up at all. “It doesn’t have to be. The way we see it, the Boulevard is one of the most important streets in Orchrisus, and it should be a neutral territory. We’re going around and trying to keep it clear of fighting to keep the heat off of all of us.”

“The heat that you two brought here, you mean,” said Mouse with a harsh bark of laughter. “Great job.”

Quentin sighed. “What would you do if someone picked a fight and killed you? I don’t regret attacking them, only not doing more damage before they managed to come back for a real fight.”

“So, you’re really sticking to that story ‘bout being immortal huh?” Mouse snorted. “Give me a fucking break.”

“You well fed?” Razia asked Quentin.

“Well enough. Could stand a bite to eat. We doing this?” Razia nodded. Quentin held out his arm and motioned for Jonas to help out. The teen drew his sword, making the rest of the patrons stand up and draw their own weapons.

Mouse gestured for them to calm down. He nodded at Quentin, curious. Jonas brought the sword over to Quentin’s arm and sliced it open. Quentin hissed in pain but held the wound up. Before their eyes it sealed itself. Blood still streamed down his skin, but he didn’t wipe it up.

“Huh,” Mouse nodded. “That’s pretty fuckin’ weird.”

“I’m god-touched,” said Quentin, shrugging. “Weird doesn’t begin to cover it.”

“We’re not here to make threats or try to beg or anything like that,” Razia pressed forward. “We want to work together for safety and mutual prosperity. At bare minimum we want to make sure there’s no bad blood between us. You don’t mess with us, we won’t mess with you.”

Honestly, they needed friends and allies, but so far that goal was looking harder and harder to achieve. If they could just keep the Boulevard clear of open violence, victory enough. Just enough to buy them time for the plan to go off. When Christophe lay dead and rotting, their situation would be much better.

“I don’t see myself having reason to care about any of you so long as you don’t test me,” said Mouse, taking another long drink. “With Cicero dead our hands are full enough. You’re probably in a much worse situation than me’n my boys. What kind of area are you looking to hold? You’re not even on the Boulevard proper, are you?”

Quentin shook his head. “We’re just south of it, but most of our clients come from there. We’re considering the area between Fifth and Tenth avenue to be ours.”

Mouse whistled. “Taking a prime piece for yourself? You’re not here looking for friends. You’re looking for recognition.”

Razia smiled. Mouse was smarter than he looked. She wasn’t sure if that was a good or bad thing yet.

“More or less. As far as I’m concerned there’s really only one prior claim to that area, and last I checked they’re no threat. If they try anything we’ll make a move, but we’re honestly not out for a fight. Not unless we have to. We’re in the comfort business, Mouse. We honestly just want to get back to getting blasted and having orgies. What do you think?”

Another noncommittal grunt. Mouse leaned back in his chair, crossing his legs. “The thing is, some people are pissed at you and blaming all this trouble on you. I can see where they’re comin’ from, too. If it wasn’t for this shit with the Warlords, Cicero wouldn’t have slipped up and got himself dead. Even somethin’ as minor as just nodding your way and accepting your claim could get us hate. What’s in it for us?”

“Mutual defense, for one,” said Quentin, mirroring his pose. “You’re one of the better crews out there. If someone tries to fuck with you, you probably won’t need help. But if several someones messes with you, could be nice to have a friendly face. You’ve heard about what me and my boys are capable of. Thirty of us fended off nearly seventy Warlords.”

Mouse stroked his bushy beard, thinking about it. “I’m not entirely opposed. Throw in a discount for my boys frequenting your establishment and I think it’s agreeable enough to try out. On a trial basis.”

“Provided they follow our rules, easily done,” said Razia.

Mouse opened his mouth to say something else when he froze. Razia looked over her shoulder to see the messenger boy from before standing in the doorway, scared as can be. “Excuse me,” he said, standing up. He went out the door and without hesitation Quentin, Razia followed with their men in tow.

It wasn’t a full incursion, but only barely. Twenty armed men and women stood in the now empty streets. Razia recognized the leader as Brody Ashford, one of the loan sharks under Cicero. Razia wasted no time in stepping in front of Mouse and addressing him directly.

“Well well well, what have we here? You thinking you’re going to fill Cicero’s shoes, Brody?”

The lean man sneered. “Someone has to. Might as well be me. I already ran a quarter of the old bastard’s kingdom anyway. It falls on me to pick up the pieces and get everything back into one piece. Cicero was a weak, sentimental fool. I have no such weaknesses.”

“No, you just like fucking your sister, right?” Razia’s stomach did a flip. All around her, Jonas and the others laughed. Cicero’s blackmail went far and wide, and very few people escaped unscathed. Even Mouse chuckled. Which of course just made Brody zero in on her.

“You’ve got a big fucking mouth, whore,” he said. “It’s truly going to be a pleasure trading you in to Piro.”

Quentin stepped in front of Razia, but not before shooting Razia an annoyed look. She blew him a kiss before he turned around. “That’s not going to happen. I’m going to give you this one chance to leave or I will kill you.”

Mouse stepped up as well next to Quentin. Together they made for an intimidating sight. “Why don’t you turn around, Brody? Go get your slice and maybe try bothering a few smaller, weaker people before you step up here. You’re not going to get much done today.” All around his men came out from the pub and made up the difference.

Brody smiled. He raised a hand and chopped it in their direction. “Get them!”

Razia stepped back into the entryway of the pub, leaning against the open frame of the door. Big battles like this weren’t her strong suit, but damn if they weren’t entertaining to watch. Brody’s men crashed into Mouse’s and the fighting began in earnest.

She didn’t have words to describe the joy she felt seeing Quentin fight. Even before she knew who he was, she saw the Butcher fight like he was born for it. Now that they were in a fairly easy, harmless fight, Razia really let herself take it in.

Without his shield, he focused way more on parrying and weaving. He and Jonas fought much alike, favoring speed and reaction, seizing the right opportunity when it came along. Their attackers fell quickly, almost at the same time. Neither of them hesitated, shoving the dying men down to the ground and maneuvering to meet the next wave.

Mouse on the other hand, he and his men were strong, brutal, and merciless. His men collapsed on the attackers from behind and it turned into a chaotic brawl of swinging clubs and cries of pain. The thuds of bodies falling to the ground and sounds of steel clashing against steel was a chaos completely outside Razia’s expertise. All of this from Cicero making himself a lynchpin. Razia knew true envy for the first time.

It wasn’t that she liked the violence and chaos itself, per se. Much like Quentin, she wanted things to die back down to mostly calm and just a little bit hectic, but in chaos there was a hard, scary beauty. Opportunity. Brody had been their next person to talk to, and now they could scratch it -- and likely him -- out entirely.

The fighting shifted and all their attention fixated on the battle. No one but Razia saw Brody himself slip through the fighting and come right for her, knife out and a dark smile on his face. Razia’s eyes widened and she called out, “Quentin!” sharply, but then Brody came down on her.

He swung his knife wide, and Razia ducked away, backing up into the bar. In the empty pub, there was nowhere to go and nobody to help her. Brody fell on her, tackling her into the ground. She struggled against him, but it would’ve been useless even if he didn’t press the edge of his knife against her throat. Razia stiffened, and Brody pulled them back to their feet.

“What, no dumb jokes now?” He demanded, pressing the tip of the blade against her throat hard enough to make her wince. “No smart mouth begging me to just kill you and forget about the bounty?”

“How much does your sister charge?” Her mouth moved without any input from her brain. “My bounty could probably keep you balls deep in her for months.”

“Shut up! It was one time!” he shrieked.

“Let her go.”

Brody turned them around. Quentin stood in the doorway, looming large over them. He pointed his sword right at him. “I’m not going to ask again. Let her go and you can walk away.”

“Fuck you, you moonkissed --”

Razia saw her chance. She pulled to the side, elbowing Brody in the gut. It couldn’t have hurt, she was far too weak for that, but it distracted him. Not enough to keep him from drawing his knife over the side of her neck, cutting her open. Razia fell to the floor with a gasp, clutching the hot wound as panic gripped her.

From above she heard an inhuman growl and the next thing she knew Quentin tackled Brody into the bar. Razia pulled her hand away, slick with blood. Her breathing spiked as she wondered if this was it, if her mouth finally got her killed. From the ground Quentin screamed and pummeled the loan shark, sword entirely forgotten. After a few seconds he got up and grabbed her by the side of the neck, frantically checking her wound. Sometime in the battle his spectacles fell off.

“Are you okay? ARE YOU OKAY?” He demanded, tilting her head the other way. Razia wanted to scream that she didn’t know, but no words came out. A second later he let out a relieved gasp. “Just…just a small cut. What the hell were you thinking?”

“I was thinking of giving you an opportunity!” she exclaimed. Fuck, this cut hurt but if he wasn’t scared, she wouldn’t be. “It worked, didn’t it?”

A few feet away, Brody groaned on the ground. Quentin raised up, fury in his eyes. He grabbed Brody by the ankle and dragged him outside, his face scraping against the ground the entire time. Razia followed. At this point the fight was over, quick and dirty. Brody’s men weren’t all dead, but the ones still alive were on their knees with their hands on their heads.

“All right?” Mouse asked as Quentin dragged Brody in front of his men.

“Almost,” said Quentin. He had a look on his face Razia had never seen before. It almost scared her. “You see this piece of shit?” He called out to the assembled gangs. “He cut my woman. This is what happens to anyone who looks at her wrong.”

Razia had just enough time to look away before Quentin stomped the poor bastard’s head into the ground. She screwed her eyes shut as if that could block out the sounds of the next few stomps, and the wet squelching sound. The next thing she knew she heard someone vomit. The most surprising part of all was that it wasn’t her.

“Fucking hell,” Jinnis whispered, from a few feet away. She couldn’t blame him.

Mouse on the other hand sounded impressed. “Shit, Quintius, point made. You want to take care of these maggots, or should I?” Razia opened her eyes in time to see him gesture at the prisoners. Most of them looked absolutely sickened. One cried openly, shivering violently as he stared at Quentin.

Quentin wore a fierce, horrible smile. “Dead men tell no tales,” he said. “So let them live. You get a reprieve today, on one condition. Yeah?”

“Y-yeah!” the nearest kneeling man said. “Anything!”

“Go around and tell people exactly what happens if you touch Razia. What happens if you cross the immortal moonkissed bastard. You hear me? They’ll be scraping you off the fucking ground. Now get up and get out of my sight.”

They didn’t need to be told twice. Seeing no one would stop them, first one man took off, and then the rest, fleeing down the Boulevard.

Grimacing, Quentin looked down at his feet. “I’m going to need water and some cloth to wash off, please.”

Just an hour later Mouse and his boys crowded the pub. Razia’s minor cut was patched up. This time it was on her to sit still and try not to fuss too much over Quentin giving her a few stitches. It had been the closest she’d come to death since that night on the bridge. Maybe it was time to pick a safer hobby. Razia found herself mostly quiet after that, but that was fine. For once, Quentin did the talking around their new allies.