by J. Stone
He smiled. “Then, I should introduce you to our quartermaster. She will see you supplied.”
***
Pushing open the door to the quartermaster’s room, Nicolae entered, and Wynonna could immediately smell gunpowder and the oily scent of grease waft out. The smell of smoke and a hint of metal followed it, just as she walked in after the elder vespari, where she discovered a plethora of gun parts, weapons, and other assorted mechanical components. In the back of the room sat a woman of a pale complexion with long curls of auburn hair, and as they entered, she turned part way around in her chair to see who it was.
“Just a minute,” she called to them.
Wynonna looked away, focusing on all the guns that hung from hooks on the walls. There seemed an endless supply of them. To think that all of that had been just waiting there in this Black Tea Tower, while she and Corrigan had to struggle for every single bullet they could get. When Wynonna looked back to the woman, she discovered that she hadn’t stood up. She discovered that she couldn’t stand up.
The woman was in a normal wood and wicker chair, but someone had augmented it with two large wheels at either side and another smaller pair at the back of the chair. Wynonna had never seen the like, but it became obvious why the young woman was in it. The auburn haired woman wore a simple, loose-fitting green dress with a tough, leather apron over it, and the hem of both ended about where her knees should have been. Instead, the fabric of the dress and apron simply ended and hung there, void of the presence of her legs and feet. The woman seemed not hampered by this, as she pushed the chair forward by grabbing the wheels with her hands and rolling them forward.
Wynonna also noted that from working with the machine parts, oils, and powder, grit and grime caked her knuckles and the skin of her palms. Smudges of soot and dark powder ran across her pale face as well, but Wynonna looked right past them. She stared into the young woman’s chocolate brown eyes, almost mesmerized by her beauty. Whatever shame or revulsion she had toward the idea of killing Rohan faded away in this young woman’s presence as she could think of nothing else but her.
“That’s a sweet piece you got,” the woman told her, nodding toward Wynonna’s revolver.
“Oh, thanks,” she replied, looking down at it as well. “It was my master’s.”
“Wynonna,” Nicolae interrupted, “allow me to introduce Autumn Banmere, our vespari quartermaster here in the tower.”
“Is that right?” Wynonna asked. She held her hand down to the woman. “A pleasure to make your acquaintance.”
“Oh,” she said, wiping her hands down her apron. “No, my hands are dirty.”
“Doesn’t bother me a bit,” Wynonna said, hand still extended out.
“Well, if you insist,” she said, taking and shaking Wynonna’s hand.
Nicolae continued, “Autumn, this is Wynonna Lockhart. She has been trained in the desert and is here seeking a confirmation.”
“Really?” Autumn asked with a big smile. “That’s unprecedented! She’ll be the first woman vespari.”
Nicolae raised a single finger. “If she is confirmed, yes, but let’s not get ahead of ourselves. For now, she has to prove herself, and she tells me she is running low on supplies.”
“Zero supplies, in fact,” Wynonna added.
Autumn smiled up at Wynonna. “Well, you’ve certainly come to the right place. I’ll get you all set up. Whatever you need.”
The elder vespari placed his hand on Wynonna’s shoulder. “I’m afraid other duties in the tower require my presence.”
“Oh, that’s alright,” Wynonna told Nicolae. “I think I’ll be alright on my own from here.”
The elder vespari nodded. “If you need anything further of me, do not hesitate to ask.” Turning to the quartermaster, Nicolae told her, “Autumn, give her anything she needs.”
“Of course,” Autumn replied.
“Thank you for your help, Nicolae,” Wynonna told him.
Nicolae turned around and shuffled out of the room, putting most of his weight down on his cane, and when he was gone, Wynonna faced Autumn once more, smiling at her.
“So, you built all these things, huh?”
The quartermaster’s eyes lit up. “You bet your ass, I did. There’s nothing here I didn’t knock together with these two hands.”
“That’s very sexy,” Wynonna told her.
Autumn nodded with that same innocent smile. “They are sexy, aren’t they? Someone who gets it!”
The vespari shook her head. “No, I meant--”
“But this one,” the quartermaster continued, grabbing a shotgun with a short barrel from a set of hooks in the wall. “This one is my favorite. Isn’t it beautiful?”
The weapon did draw Wynonna’s eye, even to the point to distract her from her attempts at flirting with Autumn. “What is it?”
“I call it the spitfire!”
“Sounds promising. What’s so special about it?”
“I built it to handle a unique type of ammunition,” she explained, looking to Wynonna and the smile curling ever further up her cheeks.
The vespari found herself caught up in Autumn’s enthusiasm. “What kind of ammunition?” she asked, mirroring the smile.
The quartermaster’s expression changed to a devious smirk. “Incendiary.”
“Wild. I could’ve used something like this when I took out the Gentleman.”
“Who?” she asked, placing the spitfire back on the wall mounts.
Wynonna frowned. “A revenant. Killed him before coming here.”
“Impressive. And, you came from the desert, right?”
The vespari nodded. “That’s right.”
“How did you even do that? No support. No cities. No supplies.”
Wynonna shrugged. “My master wandered the desert for a long time before he found me. He made do.”
“You mean Corrigan Lockhart, right?”
“Cory. Yeah.”
“Where is he now?”
She looked to the ground. “Gone.”
Autumn rolled forward and held out her hand, grabbing Wynonna’s. “Oh, I’m sorry.”
Instinctively, the vespari rubbed her thumb against Autumn’s soft skin.
Pulling back her hand and placing it in her lap, the quartermaster said, “You know, I met him once, when I was young. I was too young to build him anything though.”
“Really? You knew him? Do you know what crime he supposedly committed?”
The quartermaster shook her head. “I don’t really know. The others don’t talk about him much. I thought the Lockhart name would die with him, but you’re here now.”
Wynonna forced a smile. “Yeah.”
“My father and he were actually friends before they banished him to the desert.”
Wynonna looked up. “Your father?”
Autumn nodded. “He was a vespari too.”
“Really?”
“Mmhmm, but he’s gone too, and his name won’t continue any further.”
“He didn’t take an apprentice?”
“No. He looked for one, but he died before one could be found.” Autumn rubbed absentmindedly at her thigh.
Wynonna caught the gesture and couldn’t let it go. “Did it have something to do with what happened to your legs?”
Autumn looked up at her. “Most people do their best to never mention my legs.”
The vespari shrugged. “I’m not most people.”
Smiling, Autumn said, “I appreciate that.” She then looked into the distance. “It was retaliation.”
The vespari remained silent, waiting for Autumn to continue when she was ready.
“My father killed a lycanthrope. He didn’t know it was part of a pack. The others tracked him to our house. My father managed to kill them, but not before they murdered my mother, took my legs, and mortally wounded my father. I was lucky to have survived without contracting the curse.”
“That’s terrible. I’m sorry.”
Autumn forced herself to
smile up at Wynonna. “It’s okay. It happened a long time ago. Despite what happened, I can still help out. After the attack, the vespari elders let me come here, and I set to making myself useful.” She smiled and looked up at the weapons on the walls. “All these babies are my work.”
“Well, I’d say you succeeded in making yourself useful. I sure wish I could’ve had someone like you in the desert with me.”
“I bet you carved your own bullets!” Autumn exclaimed.
Caught off guard by the sudden return of enthusiasm, all Wynonna could say was, “Yeah.”
“Oh, that’s great!”
“Why?”
“No one around here carves for themselves anymore. They used to teach it, but since I started helping supply them, it’s fallen out of practice. It’s just too bad.”
“They really expect you to do it all?”
Autumn waved her hand through the air and smiled. “Oh, it’s not so bad. I have machines that speed up the process.” She then rolled over to a table and pulled out a drawer. “I’ve got plenty anyway.”
“Wild,” Wynonna muttered, walking over and seeing the entire drawer full of runed bullets. “Since I’m totally out, is it--”
“Of course!” Autumn told her. “That’s what I’m here for. I’ve got scores of these glittering girls. Take as many as you need. I’ve got any caliber you could want.”
Wynonna grabbed a handful, stuffing them into the pocket of her duster. She then pulled her silver and pearl revolver from its holster and started loading bullets into the chamber. “So, you really made machines to carve the runes? That’s pretty damn impressive.”
The quartermaster blushed. “It’s nothing special.”
“It’s wild is what it is,” the vespari said, locking the revolver again and sliding it back into the holster. “And, you seem pretty amazing for making it.”
“No… I just… I just have a lot of time to think about things. I don’t have a whole lot of distractions.”
“How is that possible?”
“What do you mean?”
“Pretty as you are, I’d imagine the vespari never leave you alone.”
“What?” she said with a little laugh. “No, they don’t think about me like that, and I certainly don’t think about them… I mean… Um.” Flustered and growing red, she just asked, “What were you saying?”
“So, I have you all to myself then? No need to worry about any competition?”
“You… I… I mean… You shouldn’t…”
“You’re even prettier when you’re flustered.”
Her face went even redder. “What? I’m not…”
Wynonna smiled. “I know I can come on a little strong sometimes. Would you rather I stop?”
“No… I mean… yes… but… I don’t…” She shook her head. “It’s just… people don’t like the idea of two women being together.”
The vespari shrugged. “I’ve heard. I don’t really care. What about you? Do you like the idea?”
Autumn’s blush intensified further yet. Not answering the question, she said, “Plus, no one’s shown much of an interest in me on account of my legs.”
Wynonna leaned forward, bracing herself on the armrests of Autumn’s wheelchair. “I don’t care what your legs look like. They’re not what I’m attracted to.”
“Oh,” she said, shifting somewhat in her seat. Her eyes raced around the room before finally settling on Wynonna’s right in front of her. “What… what is it you’re attracted to?”
The vespari smiled. “Your eyes were first.”
Autumn glanced away for a moment but quickly looked at Wynonna once more with those chocolate brown eyes.
Wynonna knelt down, putting her hand on Autumn’s cheek. Sliding her thumb gently over Autumn’s lips, she said, “Your lips were second.” Her hand moved farther back, stroking a strand of hair. “Then, your auburn curls.”
The quartermaster gulped and nodded, not saying anything.
“But then, I saw you’re more than that.”
“More?”
Wynonna looked around the room. “All of this. You made it all.”
Autumn shrugged. “Well, the vespari needed help, and I’m good at it. I did what anyone would.”
“Don’t discount yourself, Autumn. You’re special. I think you’re smarter than you give yourself credit and more determined than anyone could expect.”
“Expect?”
Wynonna nudged the chair with her boot. “I’ve never seen anyone so defiant in the face of such an injury. You built this chair, didn’t you?”
“Well, I’d worked on some other contraptions that gave me the idea, and I still had to get around somehow.”
“That’s exactly what I mean. I doubt you even considered succumbing to despair. You just kept going. That’s why you’re special. That’s why you’re beautiful.”
Autumn reached out for Wynonna, but before she laid a finger on her, the rusty hinge of the quartermaster’s door creaked, alerting them to someone else’s presence and interrupting the two women. Wynonna rose up, and Autumn dropped her hand and wheeled her chair back a couple inches.
“Oh, Ernest,” the quartermaster said, looking past Wynonna and clearing her throat.
“It’s Hildebrand,” he replied. “You know that.”
“Yes, right, well, I was just getting our new vespari set up. Showing her around. Giving her the tour. That sort of thing. Nothing special.”
Wynonna turned and nodded back to Ernest, folding her arms at her chest.
“Yes,” he replied in a slow voice, looking back and forth between the two women. “I see that.”
“I thought we agreed not to see each other again, Ernest,” Wynonna said.
He just glared at her.
Autumn rolled past Wynonna and toward Ernest. “Is there something I can help you with?” she asked him.
He sniffed in a heavy breath and stared at Wynonna. “I wouldn’t want to interrupt whatever was going on here,” he said.
“What are you talking about?” Autumn asked in an all too quick voice. “There’s nothing going on. I told you. I’m just helping her get stocked up.”
Wynonna gave Ernest a faux smile and stepped forward, putting her hand on Autumn’s shoulder. “It’s okay, Ernest,” she told him. “I think Autumn here already gave me what I need.” She walked toward the door past the other vespari but then looked back at the quartermaster, who still fidgeted in her chair. “Next time, we’ll have to see about you showing me more of that pretty little spitfire of yours.”
Autumn released a nervous laugh and nodded, as Wynonna exited the quartermaster’s room. From there, the vespari exited the Black Tea Tower and grabbed the map from her pocket.
“Astrological clock, huh?” she said to herself, once more finding it on the map, unfolding it, and locating the marker on the parchment. “Here we go, I guess.”
***
After getting her bearings, Wynonna used the map to travel north through Alexandria. On the map, several important landmarks dotted the parchment, helping her find her way better than the names of the only occasionally marked cross streets. From the Black Tea Tower, she once more passed the Hawthorne Gate by which she’d arrived in the city, and it was as she stopped to find a sign of her next landmark that Wynonna happened to glance up and see someone walking in her general direction.
The pickpocket. The young man that had taken the vespari medallion Corrigan had given her. Wynonna had let him get away once, but she wouldn’t lose him a second time. As she started to walk toward him, however, he looked up, catching her eye and freezing in that moment. The pickpocket mouthed a quick curse and turned to flee in the opposite direction.
Wynonna sprinted after him, having an easier time than before, as the crowds around Hawthorne Gate had somewhat cleared, presenting fewer obstacles for her to avoid. The pickpocket moved deftly over fences, through crowds, and around corners, while Wynonna tended to barrel through everything in her path, lacking any semblance
of grace. Despite her blunt approach, the vespari caught up with her quarry as they raced down a long alleyway.
Not wanting to hurt the young man more than she needed to, Wynonna left her gun in its holster for the moment and simply tackled the pickpocket. The two of them landed hard on the cobbled path and rolled over one another until Wynonna ended up on top. She sat upright over him and put her hand over his chest, holding him down in preparation for getting back what he’d stole. Pulling out her revolver and jutting it just under his chin, it was here that both of them finally got a good look at one another.
The pickpocket smiled wide at Wynonna, telling her, “You are gorgeous, darling.”
“And you’re… a woman?” she replied, surprised not to have realized sooner. She squeezed her fingers on his chest, revealing a breast - taped down, but a breast nonetheless.
“No, I’m a man,” he said with something of a glare. “I just look a little different is all.”
Physically, the pickpocket did seem to be a woman, but from the sound of things, he had adopted a gender that didn’t align with most people’s expectations. As they’d landed, his newsboy cap fell off, and Wynonna now saw that he had spiky, short, blonde hair, clearly bleached from his natural, darker color. Even still, life on the street had somewhat dirtied the blonde portions with soot and grime. Also, this pickpocket had a light peach complexion that she had yet to see among anyone during her life in the desert. His clothes were what a young man might wear as well - a long sleeve shirt under a brown vest and tucked into dark green pants, which were held up by a pair of suspenders.
“Yeah. Alright, you’re a man,” Wynonna said, shrugging it off. “It doesn’t matter to me. I just want my medallion back.”
“I’ll happily give it back, if you promise to stay right where you are.”
“Are you… really flirting with me right now?” she asked, eyeing him up and down.
“Absolutely,” he replied. Squirming his arm free, he held it up to her and said, “My name is PJ. Who are you?” His eyes raced over her face and drifted down her body.
As he lowered his chin to get more of a look at her, Wynonna jutted the barrel of the revolver into his neck, forcing him to raise it again. “My name doesn’t matter,” she told him.
