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Rosa had a number of secrets. It was intrinsic to being a Crow, like counting your exits and collecting knives and poisons.
The most relevant one right then was that she should have died when she was five, and had spent the last twenty years thinking that any life after that was something stolen from the Creators.
That made her current situation ironic, really, given That Ghilan’nain’s chosen Venatori was currently holding her prisoner.
Also, said Venatori Bitch was very unhappy to learn that Rosalia didn’t have the lyrium dagger with her.
Why would she? No one thought wearing it too long was a good idea for her health. Except maybe Solas, because Solas wanted her to suffer for his plan failing the way it did and definitely was going to find a way for her to pay the price needed to get him out of his prison. But she’d fainted after using it as a spell knife to fight a dragon, and it was a giant thing of lyrium.
And besides, the Crossroads Market had been cleared and stayed cleared, Rosa wasn’t leaving the Diamond, just dropping off some encoded messages for Chance so Neve actually slept for once instead of trying to handle all the intelligence.
This new Blight strangled all sense of self, from what she deduced, so she would be effectively dead, as much herself as if her body was one of Emmrich’s skeleton staff.
Solas was plotting against them and doling out information when he thought it would lead them along his plan, so losing the connection wouldn’t doom the team.
Viago had Teia and the house, and a growing friendship with Emmrich. He’d be fine.
Lucanis and Spite… they’d feel the guilt of it, but the team would be there for them. They’d not drown on it. Hopefully they’d not take it too hard- Lucanis was trained to keep focus, and he already had so many reasons for Zara to die screaming.
Everyone else was… well. After Weisshaupt, maybe this wasn’t the worst thing? Right?
Okay, Weisshaupt wasn’t her fault. She warned them about the likely archdemon. The politics of Weisshaupt were old and entrenched. If he was that determined to deny everything, she wasn’t going to use blood magic to puppet people into agreeing with her.
But Lucanis would help Neve with Minrathous, Emmrich would help Spite and Lucanis learn to communicate. Harding would be a support for Taash. Emmrich and Neve would make sure Bellara slept and ate, and Harding would be a good sounding board for Davrin, and Davrin would be one for Harding and her magic. Taash would help with the Crows and Lords talking, and Rosa had already suggested to Evka that Taash make up a useful pamphlet with Davrin for dealing with dragons. Antoine was writing Irelin about the Blight.
They’d all be fine.
She repeated that to herself as the cold seeped in through the seams of her undershirt and panties, having been stripped while unconscious. Her pendant was even gone- a boot was dangling out of a box on a table out of reach. Even if her hands weren’t bound wrist to elbow, three fingers on each hand broken.
The stone had the slimy feel of damp, clinging to her bare skin. It would make escape a bit harder.
There was the sound of someone walking down the corridor- several someones, by the sound of it.
And with that would come the shape of her death.
“Hmm,” Rosa couldn’t help herself as Zara Renata approached the red lyrium barrier, dissolving it. “Note to self, do not use blood magic as cosmetic enhancement. You look like you are made of wax, and you smell horrible.”
There was displeasure on the magister’s face, but Rosa wasn’t lying. Her skin did not look real- a shade too rigid, unlifelike. Her raven black hair had no white in it, but there was a uniformity that made the artificial color obvious.
You could use illusions and enchantments for cosmetic reasons, but overdoing it or slapping on layer after layer with a type of magic that ate the user alive piece by piece was not a good plan.
Also, she smelled of congealed blood, copper and rot.
“And I will not take criticism from a scrawny knife eared slut,” Zara said, and Rosa rolled her eyes.
“How creative,” she said, smile a bit manic. “Then again, blood magic and red lyrium both melt your brain. I did hear what happened to Knight Commander Meredith, down in Kirkwall? And those Red Templars. Not a very pretty sight, but I suppose you already look ghastly enough.”
The slap didn’t surprise her, sitting on her knees with her ass between her heels to stay upright. Everything below her ribs was heavy and slow- she was fairly certain she knew the poison, the way her mind was quick but disconnected, localized numbness that couldn’t be explained by the damp floor. There’d be a needle thin hole in her leathers, when she got to check, right at the center of that spot.
It was, after all, one of hers, offered to a very limited clientele, having been commissioned for one particular Crow.
“Mouthy, too,” Zara sighed. “I thought they taught Crows to listen to their betters, but between you and dear Lucanis…”
Rosa was pretty sure her face said everything there was to say at the idea of Zara as her better.
That might be why the blood mage’s nails dug in so harshly as she grabbed Rosa’s chin, taking a small stone flask that radiated magic.
“A gift, from one of our risen gods,” Zara said, smiling unpleasantly.
Spite was going to have fun tearing her to shreds. Maybe he could yank Zara’s jaw off? Or ears.
“She made huntresses of you elves before,” Zara said, pulling her mouth open with the help of one of her guards. “This is not the same method, but she wants to find new ways for the lesser beings to serve.”
It wasn’t Blight, and she didn’t sense a demon, so that was probably good, except for the serve bit. She really hoped her team didn’t have to kill the shell of her. Or put her out of her misery.
It was cold, and reminded her of a soup or a broth, something metallic then savory then like a lyrium potion.
She wanted to gag, especially as her head was spinning, but the darkness was growing, and she felt…
…so…
…tired…
-
Rosa was here- Spite commented on the smell of candle smoke and moss, which was how he identified her. The blood magic everywhere made it smaller, but the demon shifted their form further and further to sniff it out.
Which is why they were with Taash and Bellara, he reminded himself. Along with Emmrich, they were the ones least disconcerted by his other form.
Aside. From. Rosa, Spite corrected. Rosa. Loves. Both.
Yes, she didn’t bat an eyelash at the proof he was an abomination, telling him there wasn’t even pulsating flesh, and besides, Crow style demanded feathers anyway.
She seemed to like waking up under their wings, against scales and shadows. Said he was a furnace, and she hated the cold.
And now Zara had her. Small. Alone. A fucking mage surrounded by demons, a bunch of cultists, and a magister answering to an obsessive goddess, fixated on Rosa.
“Do all Chantries have… all this?” Bellara asked, nervously. Unlike Taash and himself, she was wearing the scarf pulled around her lower face that was meant to help keep her from breathing in red lyrium. “With the underground tunnels and wet? Not the Venatori, obviously, the crazy obsessed with lyrium people who would want me dead in Chantries are supposed to be Templars.”
“Antiva is culturally Andrastian, but outside of some families, they are Antivans before Andrastians,” Lucanis answered, allowing Spite’s claws to pry a padlock off with a screech of metal. The gloves covered many sins at this point, none great enough to change that he’d allow Spite many more before Zara kept Rosalia. “The Mage Templar war was not… popular, and Templars were never terribly entrenched before this.”
“Sounds pretty good that way,” Taash snorted. They were a few years younger than Rosa, and Rosa had done her first contracts during the war, with a reputation for killing Templars. Old enough to remember the Order effectively invading Rivain.
“Too many apostates among the Crows,” Lucanis’ grin showed Spite’s teeth. Rosa would lecture him on ignoring her safety protocols for being around the stuff, but it meant hearing her voice. “Means I don’t have to worry about them trying to kill me when I am home.”
Spite and Lucanis and Rosa, the demon purred. Protect together. Rosa knows. Killing the eroding knights.
“But the Chantry was used only for ceremonies such as weddings and state occasions,” Lucanis continued. “Sisters would come to smaller gatherings, but no Templars have been in Treviso for a decade. The building became a good spot for signing contracts, though the Antaam must have… chased away the sisters.”
There was the slosh of boots and trailing robes in the water, and a chance to bleed his frustration.
After that, Spite grew alert, pulling him around a corner to a cell with a red lyrium barrier that Bellara shot down.
Rosa’s hair was matted, covering her face, and she’d been stripped of her armor- kept tauntingly within sight, Bellara grabbed it.
“Rosa!” he picked her up, wrapping her in the wings, and felt her stir.
“Ow…” she muttered. “Did anyone see the bronto… no. It isn’t hoofprint shaped injuries… and that doesn’t make my throat feel like I downed Silence is Golden.”
De Rivas and their poisons. He shook his head.
Now. Zara! Spite insisted.
“I would like pants, first,” Rosa muttered, pushing her hair out of her face and grimacing. “Also my weapons. I’ll stab her spine, you shred her face?”
Rosa. Has. Teeth.
Lucanis frowned at Spite’s cryptic comment- was that a comment on her desire for revenge?
He stepped back, and Bellara pulled out the pants, which Rosa shimmied into quickly, grabbing a spare bit of string to try to return to her usual hairstyle. Then the coat, and boots, pulled on with drilled speed.
The pendant went in a pocket for now, the familiar bit of silver glimmering in grimy hands.
“Kill the bitch, then maybe lunch?” Rosa said, shaking herself and frowning. “I’m ravenous. How long was I out?”
No demon, Spite said, uncomfortable. But. Did something?
“She gave me something from Ghilan’nain,” Rosa admitted. “I want Emmrich and Flynn to check me out- I don’t think I’m blighted, but best to be sure. And between Emmrich and Spite…”
“We should be able to find out what happened,” Bellara agreed, before launching herself into a hug. “You were gone all day!”
Rosa stiffened for a moment, looking at him in a panic.
Eyes were the same dark, vivid green, no sign of the tell-tale collapsed and necrotic veins of Blight poisoning, no bubbling flesh or warping bones.
Teeth, Spite repeated. Thirst.
“We aren’t alone,” Lucanis admitted. “There are nearly a dozen Crows floating about. Teia, Viago, Neri, Chance, Lucrezia Valisti, Natale Cantori, the pyromaniac harpy you are friends with…”
Rosa’s eyes went wide. “I suppose having such a high ranking Venatori in the city is a problem.”
She stepped back from Bellara’s grasp, picking up her rapier-stave, flexing her fingers with a sort of surprise.
He stared at her. “Rosalia. They came for you. Neve, Davrin, Emmrich, and Harding are another team, as well.”
He saw her attempt to process that, before shaking her head.
Later, after Viago got a chance to shout out his worry. Chance had gone to him when Rosa was late, setting off the alarms. Viago had been writing about finding a lead on the Venatori. Once Lucanis stepped through the eluvian and was smacked in the face with the ghosts of recent blood magic, the size of the team wasn’t a question so much as an inevitability, and Lucanis wasn’t going to be foolish enough to tell Viago no right now.
“And you,” she said, gently. “They are upset about what was done to you.”
“I… let’s go,” Lucanis turned.
“She’s right,” Taash added, slapping him on the shoulder hard enough to knock the breath from his lungs. “We’re here to help you stab the asshole until she’s so dead Death Mage can’t bring her back.”
“Good! Plan!” Spite growled through his mouth, words more strained than normal through his teeth.
He tried to settle his breathing, forcing himself into a shape acceptable to the Crows, the poised Demon of Vyrantium.
Rosa placed her hand on his bicep, concerned without doubt. “Kick her ass for… so many reasons. But maybe leave enough for Emmrich to question?”
Oh. Oh- he could do that, couldn’t he? Emmrich might agree to that.
Emmrich. Wants. Us. To. Like. Him. Spite agreed. Thinks. Team. Is afraid.
He hummed. Not true. Mostly. Little Dragon is. Warden, a little.
“We can do that, I think,” Lucanis agreed. “Find out if who betrayed me, who took you, and who let in the Venatori at the Diamond are all the same person.”
“Do you know who?” Bellara asked, and Rosa winced.
“Nothing provable,” she said, testing her gait before speeding up. “But Hot and Heavy was a commissioned poison. I made it for one client.”
“Who?” It was too harsh, he knew, and her shoulders crept up to her ears.
“Don’t make me be the one to say it,” Rosa begged him, not looking any way but forward. “My list of Crow clients out of House De Riva can be counted on one hand.”
“Viago didn’t make a copy?” he asked, mind spinning. He knew the list. Teia. Chance. Lucrezia Valisti. Neri.
And the last person, the one…
“It was made for a particular job, and he ordered a repeat after I returned. I could only source one ingredient from Arlathan- not worth keeping a sample for House de Riva’s archives,” Rosa continued, navigating through the tunnels. “He might have been careless.”
“He must have been.”
The words rang hollow. Lucanis knew he was careless. But.
He’d wondered. “Rosa. When did he order it?”
A deep breath through her mouth, and a few more steps. “A week after the dragon attack.”
Damning timing- after Ghilan’nain got a good look at Rosalia. After she grew obsessed, given Rosa’s resemblance to Andruil and her descent from the original hanal’ghilan, Andruil’s altered huntresses.
“Quiet poison, subtle,” Rosa said, ears twitching. “Nonlethal, unless you jam the needle in exactly the wrong place. Do you smell that? Hear that?”
Flies, desiccated flesh, old blood.
His eyeballs itched.
“We’re close.”
How did Rosa… Bellara looked puzzled, and Bellara was a good gage on if it was his senses or Spite’s.
“Lucanis? Did you… Maker, Rosa!” Teia said, and Rosa took half a step so he was between her and the Seventh Talon.
Scared. Thirsty. Confused. Spite hissed urgently. Essence but not. Self. Fears for us. Doesn't know why.
“Please tell me we don’t have another demon,” came a voice behind her, a human woman with short red hair and a blackened staff. Vittoria de Riva, talented fire mage with a temper to match. A friend of Rosa’s, one of those who helped fight off the dragon and checked on Minrathous when Rosa was unconscious. The pale woman behind her, all purple washed ringlets and gangly limbs was Lucrezia Valisti, whose storybook princess face had been carved up while still a fledgling, holding a cruel looking broadsword.
“No,” Rosa shook her head, some of her hair coming loose. “She gave me some concoction of Ghilan’nain’s. I’m trying to catalog symptoms- supposedly it was something to do with her making huntresses out of elven women, back before the Veil.”
“A problem for after this witch is dead,” Teia nodded. “Your team is disassembling her workspace here. The others are working sabotage for any escape attempt, escorting a group of captives, and distracting an Antaam patrol for the area.”
“Good,” Rosa said, shaking her head again. He’d have to speak with her after Zara. “Spite, any blood magic?”
The demon pulsed forward. “No. Strings. Cold. Thirst. Transformation. Less than ours. But. Still. There.”
“…as Teia said, that’s a problem for later,” Rosa hefted her staff. “So… before she makes a move?”
-
Rosa had to admit, working with Vittoria was making this so much better. Vittoria saw that there was a communal bath filled with blood, and she launched a fireball that boiled away a good third of it. Bellara’s arrows sent ripples of electricity where the Venatori guards clustered, and Rosa managed her usual sloppy cold magic to freeze up a rough wall that trapped two for Lucrezia and Teia to finish off. Another learned that Rosa could manage to produce a fine enough bolt of force to punch through the eyehole into the brain, though aiming that was always a bitch. Especially when feeling like you needed to drink down enough to float a Dreadnaught and vomit enough to fill one.
Taash was… well, Rosa admitted, it was very hard for the Venatori to cast spells with an axe caving in their chest. Or hacking an arm at the elbow, breaking bone before cleaving between eyes.
In the center was Lucanis and Zara. The magister held two sickles that hummed with the sickening song of red lyrium, and she was a shade too fast, too strong, for how she looked, draining power from the blood. She called out taunts wrapped in that poisonous guise of civility. She was also calling up demons, because seriously, blood mages didn’t believe their actions could ever blow up in their faces.
Give her alchemy and enchanted arrows any day. That taught you consequences.
Lucanis, by contrast, was utterly silent, slicing at her, striking blows along her face, her legs, one that should have pierced her naked torso, though the encrusted blood made it hard to tell.
The pool of blood was steadily going down, and Lucretia ducked between Vittoria and the demon she was fighting, allowing the other mage to call down another fireball.
Zara was eventually casting from her own life force, the blood magic keeping her from showing age running off her like sweat washing off dirt. A grey hair there, a wrinkle there, a slowing of reflexes before… how old was she, again? One of the senior most magisters, she remembered.
Spite’s power crackled along the blade as Lucanis hamstrung her, draining the last of her power as she struggled to even slow the blood leaving her body.
“Why, Lucanis, we have so much to talk about. Pet Crows, for example. Both my own and the one that Ghilan’nain wants to bring to heel.” Each word was labored, but the faded eyes turned to glare at Rosa.
Rosa couldn’t help herself- the rude gesture drew a hiss from the witch.
There was one of those puffs of smoke, too close to Teia, and one of those mages in the particularly stupid Venatori armors leapt from it…
…Rosa saw red, and tackled the bastard, launching herself with a sloppy force spell, wondering if Spite was the one who snarled, except her teeth ached and her nails sliced through robes, ignoring the burning of the magister’s fire…
She didn’t remember everything clearly, but Zara’s corpse had one of Lucanis’ knives in it- the one she’d bought him, she realized, snarling wyvern head and all- and Illario was there, the backstabbing asshole-
Taash had picked her up, and she was trying to wiggle free and show him that she had poisoned needles that did much better tricks, and maybe she’d rip his throat out.
Except Spite was about to beat her to it, a force of purple light and snarling knocking everyone back.
“Traitor!” the demon shouted. “Sold! Lucanis! Out! Stole! Our! Rosa!”
“Spite!” Bellara called, holding her bow loosely. “Wait- Lucanis needs answers.”
Spite’s scowl briefly melted into a panicked Lucanis, and his eyes turned towards Rosa, looking for her help. “I can’t… Rosa…”
“Spite,” Rosa managed, shaking like a leaf. “Please. Wait.”
“Relent!” Illario said, more panic than sense himself, and a swirl of red that she’d miss if not for her enhanced senses.
Lucanis slumped, and Taash tightened their grip on her as she screamed. Was he dead? Did she just see…
No, no, there was the rise and fall of his chest. He was alive.
“What did you do, Illario?” Teia breathed, horror in her face. “Did you…”
“He attacked me!” Illario drew himself up. “You saw it. Paranoid- it’s the demon in there, not my cousin.”
“Get out,” Vittoria slammed her staff down. “Get the fuck out before I fry you, you motherfucking- I heard him, you gave Rosa to that bitch?”
“He’s the only one she made the poison for,” Bellara added, eyes narrowed. “She told us that.”
“Look at her- is she really a reliable witness?” Illario gestured, and she forced herself to still. There was something sticky on her face, and something caught in her teeth, but that couldn’t be changed. “Burn the bodies and we’ll discuss these… delusions later.”
He studied Lucanis. “Perhaps we should put my cousin’s body outside the demon’s control, before he turns on anyone else.”
Illario walked away, and Teia swore under her breath.
“You saved me an injury, Ros,” she said, turning those amber eyes on her. “You still there?”
“You’re okay? Lucanis is okay?” she asked, wincing at the croak in her voice. “We need to find Viago and the others. I don’t think she had Darkspawn but…”
“It’s her,” Lucrezia shook her head, smirk lopsided by the scar bisecting her lip. “But is it him?”
She jerked her head at the still unconscious Lucanis.
“Yes,” Rosa said. There was no need for anything else.
“You can tell the difference,” Bellara said. “Spite has wings, and a lot worse a grasp on how to, y’know, speak.”
“They walk different, smell different,” Taash agreed. “Can I put you down?”
Rosa took a deep breath, ignoring the pang of hunger. “Yeah. We need to bring the corpse to Emmrich to interrogate.”
That was when she pitched over as soon as her feet touched the floor.
-
Rosa awoke to something pressing her to something warm and breathing, smelling of coffee, ozone, and kitchen spices mixed in weapon oil.
Her nose was pressed against Lucanis’ chest, pinned by wings and tail, and she nuzzled into him, ignoring the ache in her teeth, how thirsty she was. She was safe and not in a dripping jail cell.
“Rosa,” Spite intoned, purring with contentment. “The jailor. Is dead. Many of her. Toadies. Dead.”
“You’ve been listening to Neve’s rants, haven’t you?” Rosa shook her head. “Lucanis uses lackeys.”
“Not Lucanis,” Spite huffed.
“I know,” she said, patting him. She could wiggle around and groom his wings, but she was fairly certain they were a lot more sensitive that way than Lucanis was willing to admit, given how he’d walked away after she helped with a crumpled bunch of feathers after dealing with an ogre.
Also, Spite was a lot more handsy than Lucanis was comfortable with, and she figured that he needed to set the pace. Plus, she admitted, limits of biology. She was average height for a female elf. Lucanis was more than twice his normal height in this form. She’d woken up to something seeking attention brushing against her, and…
…her mind was drifting in odd directions and she needed to ignore that. She’d already taken a bottle of roughly the same size and tried to see how it fit in her mouth. Out of idle curiosity, and not Spite’s habit of shifting and using her like a stuffed halla when Lucanis went to sleep. And waking up to naked abomination or naked Lucanis.
Who always flushed adorably as she gave him the bed robe and trousers she stashed for him, apologized, and said it would never happen again.
She kept a couple of changes. Spite seemed to be soothed by the contact, she didn’t have nightmares that had a suspicious number of wolves, and Lucanis seemed more at ease after this had happened the third time or so.
“Rosa. Is. Changed,” Spite said, a clawed hand gently scratching at her scalp. “Not bad. Still our Rosa.”
There was something nice about this, being held so thoroughly that she couldn’t be pried out with magic, soothed and comforted. She couldn’t be some horror of Ghilan’nain’s making now, not if testy demons still thought her worth this.
She hummed, but the itching, dry feeling in her throat was still there, stomach cramping with hunger. Did she need to eat?
“Needs us,” Spite pulled her up, so her face was tucked near the line where feathers faded to skin, where neck meant shoulders. “Needs. Drink. Blood.”
Her stomach clenched at the thought, while her mind was doing a distant, horrified wail. “What?”
“Used. Essence of demons. Not whole, not with self.” Spite seemed uncomfortable. “Gave teeth. Speed. Thirst. Other things. But need blood.”
Oh, no. They’d had this debate in book club, asking if vampires were real, and Neve told stories…
But this wasn’t a possession. Spite wouldn't hide that. He'd find a way to tear the demon from her himself.
She could feel his pulse, thudding against her chin. “So pointy little teeth to go with my pointy little face?”
His laugh was a gravelly, growling thing that vibrated his chest- meaning most of her body felt it.
“I just have to… bite down? But what if I hurt you? And mouths aren’t exactly clean, I don’t want…” she trailed off as she realized a very important fact.
Someone had changed her into one of her usual sleeping shifts, something loose that brushed her knees. That meant that if an enterprising demon who was prone to pushing his limits wanted to startle her, his long tail brushing along her inner thigh and over the thin cotton of her underwear…
Rosa squeaked, hips rolling for a bit more friction before she could think better of it, and she glared along his neck, then bit down, hoping it stung.
Her fangs- and they were fangs- slid into his skin and something wonderful and wicked flowed into her mouth.
It was a pool of vibrancy that gathered in her stomach, warming her as it washed away anything but the thought of how good it felt, the way Spite was rocking as well, how sweet he was to care for her like this. Emmrich said spirits reacted to how you treated them, and Spite showed that perfectly.
“Rosa?” Lucanis’ voice, muzzy from sleep and the transformation. “Spite said you needed us?”
She hummed, ignoring the way she could smell his arousal, evidently, as the tail pressed more firmly against her.
“That’s…” he groaned, and she ran a soothing hand over his chest, lapping up more of whatever mix of blood and magic swam through their veins in this form. “I need…”
He tugged her off by her hair, and she couldn’t help the whine that came out, pleading and needy, before clarity… didn’t quite return, as she felt like she’d found a tasty replacement for orichalcum that made her grind down on the pebbled scales of his tail and need more.
Lucanis’ breath was ragged, but he rolled with her, one hand holding her head as the nest of blankets and pillows she’d assured him was much comfier than Solas’ fainting maiden couch shifted under them.
She relaxed herself as she felt the hum of magic as Lucanis slid back towards his usual self, pressed against her and peppering kisses as he managed phrases almost as broken as Spite’s.
“I’m sorry- I should have been faster- this was my mess- I never wanted this for you- I should have known- I thought you were-“ he was shaking, and she forced herself to have a remarkably clear head, given the fact that Lucanis was evidently as physically effected by the bite as she was.
“I don’t blame you, you freed me,” she promised, hand cupping his face. “Lucanis. You chose to save me before you went after your revenge. After everything she did… you know I wouldn’t have blamed you? You could have sent another team for me.”
He gave her those fragile eyes, the ones that meant even her thick head could understand how deeply he felt about… acceptance, kindness, treating him like a fucking person.
“Never.”
“Right, then,” she knew she sounded dazed, but given the twists of logic she’d used to come to terms with her death at some point in the not too distant past, the weight of that simple word was…
…like a damn force spell yanking her from flailing in a riptide to safe harbor. Or the feeling of an antidote starting its work. Sailing away from that ice and Darkspawn island.
Like him knowing when to add her favorite dishes to the dinner selection, because she’d spent three days slogging in Lavendel and the wetlands and finding corpses. The books they traded back and forth, his commentary as she attempted so show Bellara some Crow grenades.
“You are annoyingly incredible,” she said finally. “How long before our wayward band of lunatics come hunting us?”
He snorted. “Do you have any plans?”
She wrestled down the intrusive thought that he could fit now. No concerns about death by sex.
Even if he was still… affected. By whatever aphrodisiac qualities her bite now possessed.
Clear minds. No regrets.
He was smirking, and her damn face was being too loud again.
Lucanis wasn’t planning on going any farther, she thought, but the way he lightly bit at the tip of her ear, planting open mouthed kisses down her throat before biting down himself…
…she almost wanted to tip up his head to see if his eyes showed the tell tale crackle of purple, but his movements were all above the waist, even as she whimpered.
“Please.” It was her begging. She said it and bit through her lip, hissing, wanting him to move, just a bit, as she was feeling a different sort of hunger now.
He kissed her mouth, directly on the slice she’d made, and she was unsurprised to see the flare of violet as he licked at it.
“Still ours,” they said, and the rumble of a purr carried between forms.
She nodded, wondering at what she needed to do to prove that to them both. Well, mostly Lucanis. Spite seemed to accept that as his due.
There was the sound of heavy footsteps down the hall, and the thud of Taash rattling the door with their fist.
“Hey! You two! You got fancy visitors! I know you’re awake!”
Lucanis groaned, head tilted back, and she couldn’t help but laugh, even though she felt the same way.
“Probably for the best,” she admitted. “We can talk about it later? Maybe with sound spells in place?”
“Hmmm…” he said, and stood up slowly.
Eyes up, eyes up, she told herself, even as she caught the glimpse of satisfaction on his face.
Think about other things. Like the fact that the most likely visitor was another Crow. Fancy…
“Oh, shit,” she said, scrambling up and trying not to feel her own sort of smug as he got his own eyeful as she pulled off her shift. “Viago in the Lighthouse?”
“Mierda,” he said, and she groaned.
Why didn’t she ever think to get him a shirt? It was a foolish bit of self indulgence on her part.
She pulled an oversized sweater that Harding had gotten her out of her wardrobe, and he shot her an annoyed look.
“It matches your eyes,” he protested, as she turned to use the mix of mint and baking powder on her teeth, which felt like they were coated in blood and fuzz. There was a spare brush and enough that she could pass some to Lucanis.
“Do you want to show up wearing what Taash would consider a shirt?” She waved, before going for her own shirt. “Be happy you have trousers!”
“Wait, Rosalia,” he said, after they both had an acceptable amount of clothing on, and his full naming her made her twist her head as she finished adjusting her belt. He’d taken the comb to the worst of the knots in her hair, having a bit less to worry about, and she wished they didn’t have to rush.
“Yes?” she asked, right before he kissed her, and her ass hit the table, arching her backwards to better press her mouth to his, opening her lips and biting lightly at her lip.
“It wasn’t just the bite,” he promised, focusing intently on her. He did that, ever since she told him she missed social cues. Got all focused and steady, not lecturing or condescending. “I just… everything. You deserve better than a man divided.”
“Still want you, but I told you, you set the pace,” she reassured him, leaving a kiss on his cheek before throwing on her usual lipstick. No need to needle anything by leaving a lip print on him. Or getting it on his beard. “Now, let’s go see if we are totally wrong in thinking that my very interfering Talon is here.”
He nodded, straightening his hair.
She didn’t quite understand the flash of fear in his eyes until Taash looked them over, snorted smoke, and pronounced their judgment.
“Lucanis, you left a bruise on half her neck, did you do that in your monster form or something?”
Could she just… hide? Forever?
“Death Mage is ready, too,” Taash added, shifting their weight uncomfortably. “I’m going to burn the corpse if she tries anything.”
All business, then. Lucanis’ face shuttered away the previous liveliness, taking the steps down the hall like a man going to the gallows.
-
Zara Renata was no less disturbing in death. Emmrich had dipped everything below the neck in a mix of quicklime and some sort of potion, plastering the bottom of her hair to it.
Rosa didn’t mind the skeleton tableaux in the Necropolis. It was art, style, and didn’t have the too narrow judgments and prejudices of many human works. (She remembered the minor kerfluffle when someone had made a statue of the Inquisitor in… somewhere in the Free Marches, with decidedly human ears and a bare face.)
This, however… it was meant to contain a threat.
Viago was staring at it with one of his unreadable expressions, which usually meant he was trying to figure out weak points and complaining internally about how everyone wanted to make his life difficult with their madness.
Teia and she had both given him appropriate responses when he actually verbalized that thought.
Lucretia was there as well, a notepad in her hand. Writing a report for her uncle, no doubt, as a neutral Talon.
“You aren’t dead yet,” Viago said, and if she didn’t know him so well, she’d miss the twitch of real concern to his eyebrow.
“I still have a heartbeat,” Rosa agreed. “How is everything in Treviso?”
“Someone lit the Chantry ablaze,” Viago stared at her.
“I was unconscious,” Rosa’s protest was reflexive, and Emmrich ducked his head to hide his smile. Even Lucanis relaxed a hair.
“I suspect it was Illario, or some Venatori who weren’t caught in the raid,” Viago sighed. “Idiot, I am aware you were asleep for three days. And Vittoria has been confined to Arlathan until she can see you aren't dead. Useful, your mirrors. I keep my troublesome Crows from setting things like Villa Dellamorte ablaze, I even get paid in useful poison ingrediants.”
“Ah, that’s how long?” she mused, adding mental adjustments to her to do list. She’d need to write Strife on any changes to Arlathan, and get on making more potions for Flynn. “Right. Emmrich, do you need anything?”
He shook his head. “My preparations are complete. I merely ask that you ask your questions quickly.”
“No panicking over the reanimated corpse, got it,” Rosa nodded to herself, flicking her eyes towards Lucanis.
Spite huffed next to her ear, making it flick. “Fine. But then. I stab.”
“Acceptable,” Emmrich agreed. “I may also recommend shoving a broken stone between her teeth. A superstitious practice, but it couldn’t hurt.”
“And would be satisfying,” she smiled. “Alright, Professor, time for us to learn some things.”
“Rosa,” Viago groaned. “Please.”
“It’s fine, Viago,” Lucanis said, shaking his head. “I know what she’s doing.”
Emmrich gave his incantation, conducting the hooks and beacons of his spell.
The harsh, full bodied gasp of the spirit entering Zara- Zara’s own spirit, perhaps, from what Emmrich said, and fitting his ethics. She couldn’t see him forcing a spirit to absorb her memories.
“Illario Dellamorte,” Emmrich started. “How was he involved in this?”
“Amatus,” Zara breathed, and Lucanis looked like he’d prefer one of those sickles to the gut. “He fooled us all.”
“Did he tell you how to capture Lucanis?” she asked. Keep calm. Keep even.
“Yes- he wanted this one to kill him,” Zara said, before turning her head to stare at Lucanis. “But why waste potential?”
“You do remember that you failed to get him to break, right?” Rosa couldn’t help but ask. It wasn't going to get them more answers, but Lucanis needed to hear that. “You just sort of… stole your own doom and forced it inside. Anyway, Caterina? Did Illario arrange for you to kill her?”
“No,” Zara said, simply, and the decay and ravage of blood magic nearly hid the satisfaction.
“What did Illario ask of you?” Viago leaned forward. “Venatori attacked the Diamond. Blood magic was used.”
“The old Crow has many secrets,” Zara breathed. “Better to clip her wings and have her to… question. The spell kept her… silenced.”
There was a long silence as everyone disgested that particular fact.
“Your cousin is messed up,” Taash said, rampaging through the horrors with their usual tact.
“Her spirit is strong,” Emmrich admitted, a grimace in his face. If he was admitting this was hard… “Haste would be appreciated.”
“How did he take out Spite? It felt like he used blood magic,” Lucanis continued. “But he is no mage- he couldn’t have hidden that from me.”
“Our Risen Gods give many gifts,” Zara’s expression went towards the rapture of a fanatic, and her face cracked and wept.
“Dealing with that later,” Rosa said, deciding to ask Neve what that could mean. Maybe making sure Hal had good fish? Without smuggling fees?
“Did he take Rosa himself?” Lucanis was the one to ask, despite the feathers in his hair and writhing shadow.
“Yes,” Zara’s words were drawn out as if by a wire, and her fingers wiggled, making the thick paste start to crumble. “Razikale wants her. Born of her creations, to be remade. A pet, as is more than she deserves…”
“What did the potion do to me?” Rosa asked, hand on her dagger.
“A blend of demon essence, to make you sharper, swifter,” Zara said. “To make you something these fools could not accept, until you came to her. She thought to have you willingly. I don’t see why.”
“Now, Emmrich, we’ve heard enough,” Lucanis snarled, and the necromancer relaxed the spell, as if dropping a large weight. Angry hurlock weight.
Lucanis’ hand struck out, a blast of violet and darkness, and there was a noise that her brain refused to register, as the blackened, oozing lump of tissue was drawn out.
“Teia. Wanted. Us. To. Cut out. Her heart,” Spite explained, and Lucrezia looked a bit green.
“She did,” Rosa said, spotting the brown among the violet, and trying not to let her exhaustion show. He was going to take a few dozen steps back in accepting his new reality, now.
Rosa ignored Viago as she kissed Lucanis’ cheek. “I have some jars we can use. Taash is going to burn her, okay?”
Spite nodded. “Rosa. Safe. Gods. Can’t have. You.”
“Thank you,” she said, grateful that placing a hand on his shoulder meant she could ignore Viago a bit more. “I’ll get the jar, and then you can wash the… everything off.”
“We need to speak,” Viago said, and whatever Taash saw on her face made the dragon hunter give her a sympathetic expression.
Shathann didn’t use poison. They talked at cross purposes, but the fact that they loved each other was obvious, and Shathann’s lessons did take root, if not in the way expected.
Viago was going to ask her if she melted her brain. And be upset she hadn’t warned him. And assume that she didn’t know what she was doing.
-
Spite was investigating.
That’s what Bellara and Neve called it. Lucanis called it spying.
But Rosa was upset. Lucanis was upset.
And Lucanis was retreating to the Ossuary, trying to drag Spite back. Rosa was enough to keep Spite out of the Ossuary, enough to see what was happening in the Lighthouse.
“The Demon of Vyrantium!” Viago was shouting at Rosa, who was looking at him with Sadness, Guilt, and a bit of flickering Anger. “Of all the people to show interest in, Rosa.”
“You know Lucanis,” Rosa protested. “He’s not like that stronzo from House Nero who asked if you wanted me off your hands. Something about breaking me to bridle?”
“Yes, him I could poison and send back to his Talon, as you were sixteen,” Viago countered, Fear and Worry plaguing him.
Spite kept that fact- he’d learned that Lucanis could be distracted, if you did it right. He’d want to know if that man was still alive.
“Lucanis likes me, as a person,” Rosa countered right back. “He hasn’t called me difficult or suggested I need to change anything except maybe throwing myself in the middle of fights with ogres.”
“On that I agree with him,” Viago admitted. “But you’ve already gotten tangled up in this succession mess with House Dellamorte. Do you really think Illario would stop there?”
“To be completely fair,” Rosa wasn’t visible, but Spite could hear her Rosa Smile, the one poking holes in Dignity and Spiraling. “I wasn’t kidnapped because of that. I was kidnapped because a blighted mage wants to use me as an experiment. Illario is their mole in the Crows.”
“The other Talons won’t see that- they will see you as a weakness. Rosa, even if Caterina still lives…” Viago trailed off. “She may not be able to serve as First Talon. She was beginning to hand some duties off to Lucanis. That may even be why Illario worked with Zara.”
“So… Viago, you do remember how much of your paperwork I handled?” Rosa said, laughter in her voice. “I don’t mind the job, I’m happier doing that than… all this. Part of why you trusted me is that I don’t have that sort of ambition.”
“It will be different,” Viago was unmoved. “There will be vultures.”
“He’s worth it, I think,” Rosa’s voice was soft and wondering. “Besides, he understands the need to occasionally hide from the world.”
“And the demon?” Viago was prickly, the sour sharp Fear stronger. “He ripped out a heart, nearly killed Illario.”
“Illario used a potion I made, we already knew he at least sold me out,” Rosa countered. “Spite has never hurt me. Never shown interest in hurting me, but has pulled me out of danger. He’s confused by this world, yes, but he trusts me. And please, he’s not the first Crow to make a death a bit more gruesome to send a message. I did a few of those myself. The Venatori came to Teia’s house and made her think Caterina was dead all this time. This is just an acceptance that she’s also entitled to vengeance.”
Spite preened at the casual acceptance of their actions. Lucanis had enjoyed the chance to hurt Zara, but he’d felt Shame and Worry creep in, that Rosa might think him a monster.
“If you are hurt…” Viago paused. “I don’t like this.”
“And I promise not to share the same level of detail I hear about you and Teia,” Rosa promised.
He groaned. “That bruise on your neck says too much already. I know you could heal it, why didn’t you?”
There was a flutter of desire and satisfaction from their Rosa.
“Vi, I know what I’m doing, and I’m still coming home after all this, you can keep an eye on the situation,” she said, gently. “Now, let’s go. Teia’s going to want to know that Caterina’s alive.”
“She might skin me if I don’t tell her as soon as possible,” Viago agreed. “But Rosa… I know he seems fond of you, but the man is still… he will carry those scars forever.”
“Viago,” Rosa sighed. “I have my own. We all do. It’s just how we play the hand we’re dealt, right?”
“Teia has been a bad influence on you,” he grumbled, but soft Fondness was eroding the edges of Fear.
“We’ll figure it out,” Rosa finished. “He does look out for me, and I look out for him. For them both, really.”
Spite started to get the shape of an idea.
He could not get Lucanis free from the Ossuary. If Spite could not open the locks, Rosa could. She could talk Lucanis into leaving.
She could free them.
She’d drunk of them, blood and power. He could make her come to them.
This would work. Finally.
They’d be free. They could live.