by J. Stone
Wynonna saw his hesitance and sighed. She grabbed his empty hand and pulled it to one of her breasts, forcing him to cup it. “There,” she declared. “Awkwardness averted. They’re just breasts. It’s fine. You can start now.”
Lockhart cleared his throat and forced himself to proceed. His natural aptitude for drawing and his habit of detailing the creatures he fought in his journal allowed him to progress quickly through the rune-like designs. He imitated those on his own flesh and some that appeared on the bullets. Despite his speed, the process would still take more than a few hours to finish.
Wynonna, however, was impatient. She squirmed the entire time, and he didn’t think it was from the pain. She clearly didn’t like sitting still for so long. She decided to while away this time by asking yet more questions.
“So, what’s the plan after this? Scavenge the town and then what? We know your beldams went through this way, but how are we supposed to find them?”
“Courtland is n-n-near here,” he explained. “Maybe we can find a c-clue there.”
“Courtland, huh? I’ve heard of it. Actually a decent sized town, yeah?”
“There’s a l-l-little saloon there,” Lockhart said with a nod. “Draws a crowd.”
“Think we can restock on bullets at least?”
“One c-c-can hope.” He leaned back and examined his work.
“You finish?”
He shook his head. “Not e-even close.”
Wynonna frowned. “Oh, well, I was going to say, I’m not feeling any stronger yet.”
Lockhart resumed with the tattoos. “They don't w-work like that.”
Wynonna raised one eyebrow. “Oh? How do they work?”
“They s-s-siphon.”
“Mm? How do you mean? I’m going to draw energy from… what exactly?”
“Your kills.”
Incredulously, she asked, “I’m going to draw energy from the monsters I kill through these tattoos?”
He nodded.
“That all sounds a little ridiculous.”
“It’s the s-s-same thing that the b-beldams are drawing on.”
“Their hex?”
He nodded.
“So, they’re draining the energy out of your tattoos?”
Another nod.
“Hm.” She thought for a moment, while he continued to press the needle into her skin. “What happens when someone kills a monster without the tattoos? What if someone kills it the right way, but they don’t have the tattoos to drain the energy like I did with the ettin?”
Lockhart shook his head. “The m-monster’s energy and it’s life a-aren’t the same. If you k-k-kill it right, its energy d-doesn’t matter. You either t-take advantage of it or it just seeps b-back into the world.”
“Then the ghouls I killed back in Delamar, they won’t come back?”
He shook his head again.
“But if I’d had the tattoos, I would’ve gained their energy?”
Lockhart nodded.
“Hm. And how does one use this energy?”
“It’s innate.”
“I just naturally get stronger?”
He nodded.
“So, you’re saying that you’re stronger, yeah? Well, how come I haven’t seen you do anything special?”
Lockhart stopped with the needle and lifted up his shirt to show her the scarred but fully healed wounds the wraith had left him. “Few d-days before we met, a wraith sliced open m-my gut. I’d be d-d-dead if not for the tattoos.”
Wynonna stared at the scars. “I guess that’s pretty special.”
“Depends on what you k-kill though.”
“How do I get that? Your healing.”
“I got that f-f-from a nosferatu.”
Wynonna smiled. “Wild. I’m definitely going to have to kill one of those.”
“The effects w-wear off with time though.”
“Ah. So, that’s why you’re not all that special.”
Lockhart cut his eyes up at her for a moment before returning to his work. “You’ve stolen a-all the kills.”
“I’m just that good.”
“Besides, the beldam’s hex is p-preventing me from getting any n-new energy anyway.”
“So, anything you kill, they automatically get?”
“Not sure h-how it works.”
“I guess that means I should kill everything then.”
Lockhart didn’t respond.
“What will killing the revenant give me?” Wynonna asked.
“P-pain suppression.”
“I won’t feel any pain?”
Lockhart shrugged. “You won’t feel as m-much pain. Most energy’s full effects only last for a-about a week before they s-start to fade.”
She looked down at her chest. “And these tattoos will allow for all of that? What’s so special about them? They’re just black marks.”
“We d-d-don’t really know. We just know th-they work.”
“I sure appreciate you defacing my skin with marks you don’t even understand.”
“You w-wanted them.”
Wynonna sighed. “Fair enough. Let’s just finish this.”
Lockhart proceeded, and after several more hours and a dozen or more questions about them from his apprentice, he finished his work. Free from his needle, Wynonna stood up and ran her fingers over the tattoos. The skin was red and irritated, but she seemed not to mind. She turned to Lockhart.
“Does this mean I’m a vespari now?” she asked.
He shook his head. “Not quite.”
“What else is there? I know how to kill monsters. I know how to carve the runes into the bullets. I even have the tattoos. What am I missing? It’s not that name nonsense is it? I don’t really want to be Wynonna Lockhart.”
“The vow.”
Wynonna narrowed her eyes at him and picked up her shirt, starting to put it on. “You didn’t say squat about a vow when this all started.”
“You w-weren’t ready then. I wasn’t sure y-you’d make it.”
Finished with the shirt, Wynonna threw the poncho over her head. “Your doubt aside, what exactly is it you expect me to swear to?”
“You s-still have my journal?”
She nodded and pulled it from her pocket. “Yeah. What about it?”
“Very f-first page.”
Wynonna glared at him a moment longer and then dropped her eyes to the little book, splitting it open and flipping to the first page. Her eyes traced the words there, and her mouth muttered them as she read them in her head. She then looked up at him.
“You really want me to swear this? Why?”
“A vespari has a r-r-responsibility. We ex-exist for a purpose. Becoming one m-means following that code.”
Wynonna shrugged. “Fine, so what do you want me to do?”
“Swear it to m-me.”
Another shrug. “Yeah. Whatever. I swear.”
Lockhart frowned. “Recite it.”
Wynonna sighed and rolled her eyes. “Fine.” She looked down at the page. “As a vespari, I swear to adopt my skills for the benefit of humanity through the safeguard of the innocent, the support of those in need, and by upholding the vespari tradition. I swear to divulge the truths I uncover, no matter their implication, and to seek the advancement of vespari education. I swear to remember that I am not simply a hunter nor slayer but rather a seeker of peace and serenity. I swear to combat the darkness that threatens to consume us all without allowing it passage into my soul. I swear to remain a member of society rather than to pursue power over others. I swear to prevent bloodshed by whatever means necessary and despite the cost. Under penalty of death, I do swear this lifelong obligation.”
Lockhart nodded to her. “There. Now, you’re a vespari.”
Chapter 3. Dead Men and Scheming Women
The ettin and those who fled from it didn’t leave much behind in Layton. In all, the two vespari only managed to refill their canteens in the well, recover two bullets from the general store, and find a half d
ozen cans of peaches brought over from one of the coastal cities. In whole, they hadn’t found as much as he’d hoped, but with any luck, they’d find enough to get by in Courtland. They needed some luck, after all, and that’s exactly what those in the desert knew Courtland for.
The casino was the main draw, and though others existed in the region, this one had struck a note with people. It was perhaps due to the nature of the town. The citizens had established Courtland as a coal-mining town some years back. It supplied some of the coastal towns with the energy necessary to power their sprawling buildings and impressive machinery. The miners of Courtland dug deeper and deeper, and work of that nature seemed to attract a certain type of individual used to pressing their luck. The jobs were dangerous, and going down there, you risked your life every time you descended into the earth. It made a certain sense then that the casino above ground would be where these workers chose to spend their leisure time.
In his years operating in the desert, Lockhart visited Courtland on numerous occasions. The dangers of the tunnels were not just limited to cave ins, noxious fumes, and explosions. Dark things lurked below, and he had taken more than a few jobs to rid them of particularly quarrelsome vermin down there.
On this visit though, he hoped to just find a bit of information and supplies. If any town in the desert was likely to have bullets, it was Courtland. It was just a matter of whether he could afford them. He wasn’t exactly overflowing with silver rounds, and he wasn’t sure how much Wynonna had on her either. Regardless, they’d have to figure something out.
The journey took them a full day and then almost a whole new one after that. They arrived in Courtland as the sun was preparing to dip below the horizon, sick of the canned peaches and hoping for something else to eat while they were there. In spite of the time, the city was only just coming to life. The miners worked hard during the day, and they approached their night activities with an equal measure of enthusiasm. Drunken crowds roamed the streets, fights broke out and settled, merchants called out to attract customers, and it was clear that Wynonna had never been around such noise as this. Lockhart had to slow to make sure he didn’t lose her in the crowds, as she stared at the various people and distractions along their way. It was Wynonna, however, that caught sight of a sign that she believed could help them on their way.
“Look!” she told him, pointing it out.
Lockhart followed her finger and saw the words, ‘Fortunes Read Here.’
“Mm,” he muttered.
“What?” Wynonna asked. “Maybe they can help us find your beldams or the Gentleman.”
“Mm. P-probably just bunk.”
Wynonna folded her arms at her chest. “You’re totally okay with listening to visions induced from a poisonous plant, but you’re unwilling to even entertain the notion that a person might be able to see things too. You’ve got magic tattoos on your chest. You just tattooed the same ones on my chest. You kill monsters that are capable of casting magic. Magic is very clearly a thing, but you have a problem with this?”
Lockhart groaned. “Even if it i-is real, that’s d-dangerous. Magic is a-a-almost universally a b-bad thing.”
“Well, if it is, we’re vespari. I think we can handle it. Now, come on. Let’s go see what they have to say. We need help.”
Lockhart repeated that same groan, but his apprentice had already started up the steps of the fortune teller’s building. He decided he would at least hear this out before turning it down. Wynonna was right about one thing after all. They did need help. They hadn’t seen any sign that would lead them to either the beldams or the Gentleman.
Wynonna opened the door and stepped inside, holding it open for Lockhart to follow, which he begrudgingly did. Inside, they found an empty entry room with a few chairs. A door leading into another room stayed closed, with a sign indicating that the fortune teller was currently with a client. In the teller’s absence, Lockhart sat down in one of the chairs, while Wynonna continued to look around the entry room.
There were various bottles filled with strange liquids lining shelves on the walls, odd pictures framed, and a selection of books that seemed out of place. As Wynonna examined each of these in turn, Lockhart tried to ignore it all. He felt uncomfortable in that place filled with flowery smells, though he wasn’t certain as to why. Wynonna had brought up a good point about him.
Lockhart had no qualms giving weight to the visions brought on by the mad lotus, so why did this cause him concern? He didn’t know, but he didn’t have long to linger on the subject either. The door to the next room creaked open, and a young woman came out, tears dripping down her cheeks. Another woman followed her, her arm draped over her shoulder in an attempt to comfort her.
“Thank you, Iris,” the crying woman said, as the fortune teller led her to the exit.
“Of course,” the fortune teller replied. “Everything will be alright tomorrow. You’ll see.”
Iris opened the door for her, and the crying woman nodded and left, wiping the tears from her cheeks. The fortune teller then turned around to inspect both Wynonna and Lockhart. She put her hands on her hips and narrowed her eyes.
The woman had fiery red hair with a complexion to match. She wore a thin silk gown and had no shoes on her feet. She had a mysterious expression on her face, and when she looked at Lockhart, he felt his mind penetrated by her stare.
“You seek a dead creature and four of what I struggle to call women,” she soon said.
Wynonna nodded and stepped toward her. “That’s exactly what we want. You can tell us where to find them?”
Iris shook her head. “No.”
“See?” Lockhart said, standing up from the chair. “This is a w-waste of time.”
The fortune teller pointed a long finger at the vespari. “I cannot tell you, but I can show you.”
“Mm,” he muttered.
“How?” Wynonna asked. “We need to know where they are.”
Iris shook her head again. “He is not willing to do what must be done.”
“He’ll do whatever it takes,” Wynonna said. “He’s stubborn like that.”
“Is that right? Will you do what it takes for me to show you this vision?”
“What is it?” he asked.
Iris turned and started to pace slowly before him. “Not all of my fortunes work the same way. Some, I can read from your palm. Others by peering into your eyes. But this, this which you seek, this requires more.”
“What?” he asked again.
“To show you this vision, I must induce it in a way that you have sworn to never participate in again. Something you have only done with one person, and who died because of it.”
Lockhart narrowed his eyes. “Who are you talking about?”
“Jamie,” she replied softly.
The vespari shook his head. “How do you--”
“That is what it will take,” Iris interrupted. “But I know that you are unwilling.”
Lockhart turned to Wynonna. “We’re l-l-leaving. Come on.”
“What?” she asked. “Why?”
“Come,” he repeated in a gruff voice, not bothering to answer her questions.
He went outside, feeling a flush of heat on his cheeks. The colder air of the north cooled him down a little, but it was having little effect.
“What was that?” Wynonna asked, following him down the steps. “What was she talking about?”
He kept walking down the street, prompting her to follow again.
“Hey!” she called. “What’s the deal?”
Lockhart slowed but only enough for her to catch up. “I told y-y-you. Magic is d-dangerous. We sh-shouldn’t bother with it.”
“Yeah, fine, but you know something. Who’s this Jamie woman? What was she talking about?”
“S-sex,” he finally stammered.
Wynonna shrugged. “Yeah? What about it?”
“That’s h-how she induces the v-vision.”
“Oh,” his apprentice said, relaxing. “That’s it? S
o what?”
“I t-took an oath. I swore t-to never have s-sex again.”
She gave him a blank stare. “What? There was none of that in the oath I took.”
Lockhart shook his head and kept moving. “Let’s j-j-just get to the inn. We’ll s-see if w-we can find some bullets.”
“Screw the bullets,” Wynonna replied, walking along beside him. “It won’t matter how many bullets we have if we can’t find these things.”
“I’ll f-figure something out. I a-always do.”
“Well, if you won’t have sex with her, I’ll do it.”
“No.”
“I didn’t take any damn vow of celibacy like you. I don’t have a problem with--”
“No,” he interrupted. “We’ll find another w-way.”
“And what might that be?” Wynonna asked, folding her arms at her chest. “You going to choke on more poison?”
“I know p-people here. I’ll ask around.”
“Yeah, cause I’m sure they’re going to have heard about a revenant and a group of beldams, right? Totally common knowledge.”
“J-just come on.”
She shook her head. “Whatever you say.”
Lockhart knew she didn’t understand. How could she? She didn’t have the same set of experiences he did. She hadn’t seen what he had. She hadn’t experienced the full vespari teachings. He wasn’t going to do that to her though. They’d gone too far when he was just a student. He didn’t agree with everything they did to him, but regardless of his opinions, their lessons still lingered in his head, unrelenting. It would be an impressive trick to get them out.
Abstinence was but one of those lessons. Thinking about what the other vespari had done to teach him this filled him with horror. He didn’t want to think about them. He didn’t want to see those images flash in his head. He didn’t want to remember what they’d done to Jamie, the only one he’d ever been with. He hoped that focusing on finding bullets would help him forget.
Through his contracts in Courtland, he really had made a few contacts. One of these individuals, Cecilia, worked at the inn. They would need a place to rest for the night anyway, so he figured he might as well check with her and see if she’d heard anything. Since she worked at the inn, she often encountered merchants traveling through. He’d made it a point to mention to her what kinds of things he needed, and she’d promised to keep an eye out for anything of the ilk. Bullets were at the top of the list.
