by J. Stone
“What?” Autumn asked, swiveling around and looking up at Wynonna. “You want to… do… that now?”
“Yeah, why not?”
“What if someone comes by while we’re… you know?”
With a chuckle, Wynonna said, “It’s adorable the way you can’t say it.”
Autumn’s face went red again and she twisted back around, looking forward.
Through another little laugh, Wynonna asked, “Your door have a lock?”
“Yes.”
“Then, we’ll lock it. Anyone who needs something can grab it themselves. You’re going to be occupied for a while.”
As they arrived at the door and Wynonna walked around to open it, Autumn reached her hand out and grabbed the vespari’s wrist. “I don’t know about this.”
Wynonna knelt down again, looking into Autumn’s sweet, brown eyes. “Don’t worry. I’ll take care of everything. You just try to enjoy yourself. And, if you want to stop; we’ll stop. No fuss. No hurt feelings. So, what do you say?”
With a timid smile, Autumn asked, “Are you sure you want to do this? With me, I mean.”
“Why wouldn’t I? You’re perfect.”
Her smile growing, she nodded and said, “Okay. Let’s do it, but can we go slow?”
Wynonna got back up, pushed Autumn into the bedroom, and closed the door behind her. “We can do slow.”
***
Wynonna laid in Autumn’s bed, the young woman’s arm wrapped over her and head buried into the pillow above her shoulder. Though she closed her eyes, Wynonna actively resisted the temptation to sleep. She wasn’t ready for another confrontation with Petronila. Besides, she didn’t want to leave that moment. Though she hadn’t known the quartermaster for very long, Autumn’s presence made Wynonna feel better about things. Being around her, the vespari felt nicer. She felt happier. She felt like a better person with Autumn’s innocent influence.
The young woman rose up, pecked Wynonna’s cheek and said, “I’m glad you’re here.”
“Me too,” she replied. “I just wish I could stay.”
Autumn sat up, putting her back against the headboard. “Yes, but I suppose we should both get back to it. You have a naga to hunt down, after all.”
“Yeah,” Wynonna replied with a smile. “I guess I should go see Spencer. See if he can tell me anything.”
“You will come back though, won’t you? I don’t want anything to happen to you.”
The vespari sat up now too. “I’ll be back. For you, if nothing else.”
Autumn smiled and blushed. “We should get dressed.”
“We should, but I definitely prefer you like this.”
Grabbing her chemise from the nightstand where it had landed, Autumn tried to hide a smile and shook her head, moving to the edge of the bed to put it on. “I hate not having clothes on.”
“Why?” Wynonna asked, getting onto her knees and crawling behind Autumn and embracing her.
The young woman dropped her eyes to her legs. “I’m ugly. I--”
“You’re not,” Wynonna told her, moving off the bed and around to in front of her. Leaning over, she said, “You’re beautiful, Autumn.”
“But, my legs--”
“You’re perfect.” Wynonna dropped to her knees and kissed one of Autumn’s legs where it ended in rough, stitched up skin. She moved to the other leg and did the same to it. When she looked up at Autumn again, the quartermaster smiled and a slow stream of tears dripped from her eyes. Wynonna stood up, wiped the tears from her cheeks, and kissed her. “You’re beautiful, Autumn. Don’t waste another second thinking otherwise.”
With a little sniff, Autumn said, “You’re too good for me.”
Wynonna smiled and shook her head. “I’m no good. You make me better than I am on my own.”
“Stop making me cry,” Autumn said with a chuckle, wiping her cheeks again.
“Okay,” the vespari replied, nodding. “I guess I’ll let you put some clothes on then.”
Autumn smiled up at Wynonna, and after a moment, both women started to get dressed. The vespari was quicker, but Autumn managed just fine on her own despite her legs. Wynonna had thought about offering help, but watching the young woman, she realized that Autumn didn’t need any. After a few minutes, they were both ready, and Wynonna stood at the door about to open it.
“Wait,” Autumn told her. “Maybe I should go first. Make sure no one is in there.”
Wynonna nodded, moving out of the way. “Alright.”
The quartermaster opened the door, rolled part way inside, and then turned around to face Wynonna. “We’re good.”
The vespari moved behind Wynonna and pushed her into the adjacent room. “Does the sneaking make this better or worse for you?”
Autumn looked back at Wynonna with a smile. “I kind of like it. I’ll bet you enjoy it too.”
Wynonna stopped pushing her and moved around to her front. “Why do you say that?”
“Just seems like you. You like to disobey.”
“You’re not wrong about that, but frankly, I’d be happier to shove it in everyone’s face.”
“You would?”
“But, I won’t. I learned from Cory that this place isn’t accepting of someone with our mutual interest, and I don’t want anything to happen to you either.”
Autumn smiled. “Well. On to other matters. Did you really want to try out the spitfire? I do need someone to field test it for me.”
“So, no one has seriously used it yet?”
Autumn smiled, grabbing the spitfire off its hooks on the wall. “You’d be the first.” Holding it out to the vespari, she added, “What do you say?”
Wynonna shrugged. “Yeah. Alright. Give it here.”
Taking the shotgun, she examined it for a moment and then tried to decide how to carry it until she needed it. Meanwhile, Autumn grabbed some of its shells from a drawer, pooling them in her lap.
“You’ll need these too,” she said, picking them up and holding them out to Wynonna.
“Hm,” the vespari muttered. Putting the spitfire down on a table, she took the shells and dumped them into her ammo pouch hanging on her belt. Grabbing the shotgun again, she asked, “You have a shoulder strap for this thing maybe?”
“Sure thing. I can do that. One minute.”
Autumn wheeled toward the back and started rooting through a series of drawers. Eventually, she made a revelatory ‘ah-ha’ and returned with a leather strap for the spitfire.
“Let me see,” the quartermaster said, rejoining Wynonna.
The vespari handed the shotgun back to her, and Autumn began to hook the strap up to the weapon.
“You are handy,” Wynonna told her, as she worked.
Autumn smiled. “We all have our skills,” she said. “Working with my hands is mine.” Finishing with the strap, she held the spitfire out. “Here you are.”
“Thank you, Autumn,” the vespari told her. “Never change.”
Another smile. “Good luck with the naga. And… come back to me…” She paused, ran her hand through her hair. “I mean, not that you’re mine or anything, but I just… I want you to be safe.”
Wynonna grinned. “I knew what you meant.” She leaned down and kissed her on the cheek. “I’ll come back. You’re not through with me yet.”
As the vespari turned, threw the spitfire’s new strap over her shoulder, and grabbed the door, Autumn called a farewell behind her, and Wynonna left the quartermaster’s room.
***
Wynonna’s next stop was the library, across the way from the quartermaster. Though she’d read a bit about naga’s from Corrigan’s journal, she really didn’t know enough. From what his illustrations showed, nagas were serpent-like creatures, being just as at home in the water as they were on land. She supposed that made sense, given the elders suggested she start her search in the sewers. The naga must’ve spent most of its time below the streets, only coming up for food.
From what she read, Wynonna couldn’t di
scern whether nagas were intelligent or instinctual. She hoped that Spencer might be able to tell her more about them. The only other thing of use that she learned from Corrigan’s notes was how to kill the serpents. Similar to how she’d trapped Petronila, she’d have to rely on a rune to deal with the naga. In this case, Wynonna would have to carve a rune into the creature’s flesh. Given the scales depicted in Corrigan’s drawings, however, she feared that would be more difficult than it sounded.
Opening the door to the library, Wynonna stepped in and found Spencer sitting at one of his tables, leaning over a book, and haphazardly flipping the pages. When she closed the door behind her, the librarian looked up from the book.
“Wynonna,” he said. “It’s good to see you again. Have the elders given you your next challenge?”
She nodded. “A naga.”
“A naga?” he repeated, narrowing his eyes.
“That’s right. Why?”
“The one that’s been attacking near the Fayburn Sluiceway?”
“Uh, not sure,” she said, digging through her pocket and pulling out the map. Walking over to Spencer’s table, she unfolded it and placed it in front of the librarian. Pointing a finger down where Nicolae had indicated, she said, “Here. They told me it was here.”
“Mmm,” he muttered. “No, no, no.”
“So… I take it that’s not good news?”
Spencer stood up and grabbed her by both shoulders. “Not at all.” He released her and walked back to a shelf, picked up a few pieces of paper. Taking the first and showing her a series of names leading down in a hierarchy, he said, “Sylvester Fiddick.” He showed her the next sheet. “Dirk Vidal.” A third. “Adrian Medina.”
Wynonna tilted her head to the side. “Okay. What are you showing me?”
“These are three, well-trained vespari that were sent to deal with the naga near the Fayburn Sluiceway. All three are dead, and their names are forever lost.”
“So, not good.”
“Not at all.”
She shrugged. “I can handle it. I was just hoping you could tell me more about the naga. I’ve never hunted one before.”
“Overconfident, as ever,” he said with a sigh. “But, I’ll help you how I can. It’s not surprising you’ve never met one. Their kind prefers dark and wet. Not something the desert has in great abundance from what I understand.”
“Not so much. So, are these things smart?”
Spencer nodded. “Very. You cannot underestimate them.”
“So, what else can you tell me?”
“Well, they’re solitary creatures. They hunt at night, poisoning their victims with a paralyzing toxin and bringing their prey back to their nests. They eat them slowly over the next few days, keeping them alive as long as possible.”
“Their toxin come from a bite?”
Spencer nodded. “And, they’re very tough creatures from what I understand. Very thick scales. Sharp claws. Their tail allows them to move much faster than you can in water and on land.”
“And killing them. I really have to carve a rune into them?”
“The Linac rune. Yes.”
“But you say they have thick scales. How do I manage to cut it into them?”
“From what I’ve read, you’ll probably have to jam a blade under a scale and pry it off before you can cut into them.”
“Grisly,” Wynonna replied.
“And not easy.”
“Speaking of which, how am I supposed to get them still enough to manage prying a scale off and then carving into their flesh?”
He shook his head. “I’m not quite sure.”
Wynonna grabbed the spitfire Autumn had given her. “What about fire? Will that slow them down?”
“Possible,” the librarian said with a nod. “I’ve heard mixed results. You can try fire if that thing can manage it. Otherwise, you’ll just need to pump enough runed bullets in them to make a dent and slow them down.”
“Fair enough.” She paused, thinking on what else she needed to know. “But, what if I kill it wrong?”
“What do you mean?” Spencer replied, furrowing his brow.
She shrugged. “Well, beldams come back as wraiths, soul eaters revert to their true form, vampires regenerate, revenants reconstitute inside a ghoul, and lycanthropes go wild into vargulfs. What does a naga do if I kill it but fail to carve the rune?”
The librarian nodded. “Ah. Yes. Well, the naga’s scales are but an outer layer of its body. If you harm it beyond a threshold, the serpent will shed this outer skin, essentially revitalizing itself in the process.”
“That sounds less than good.”
“Yes and no. The naga will be briefly weakened after shedding, but I think it would be best to ensure you kill it the first time rather than wait around for that.”
“Right. So, is there anything you can tell me about this naga specifically?”
“Mm. Not really,” Spencer began. “No one who’s seen the naga has lived. In truth, we don’t even know for certain that this is a naga. The deaths could be at some other monster’s hand, but a naga is most likely given the nature of the attacks. It is also extremely ravenous, feeding almost twice as often as is typical for a creature of its type. That may be indicative of a larger than usual size.”
“Well, I guess I’ll find out soon enough.”
“Are you sure about this?”
Wynonna shrugged. “I don’t see any other option. If I want to be confirmed, I have to take out this naga, so that’s what I’m going to do.”
“I admire your courage.”
She chuckled. “You probably shouldn’t. I’m not brave, just stubborn. And very reckless.”
“Regardless,” he said with a gentle smile. “I wish you the best of luck, Wynonna Lockhart.”
“Thank you for the help, Spencer.”
The vespari then grabbed her map, turned and left the library, then the Black Tea Tower entirely. When she arrived outside, Wynonna glanced down at the map, determined which direction to travel, and started on her way.
***
Arriving at the Fayburn Sluiceway on the far west side of Alexandria, Wynonna looked around and found an entrance down to the tunnels below. The sewer was a wide stream of greenish water, flowing through a mossy brick tunnel. On either side of the sewage stream, there was a walkway for Wynonna to venture forward on. Leaning down over a railing on the side of the street, she spotted a set of stairs leading down to it. That’s where she had to go then.
Ignoring the few strange glances she got as she descended the stairs, blocked off by a line of vertical pipes in the walkway, the vespari checked the ammunition in her revolver as well as the spitfire Autumn had given her. Everything looked good, so Wynonna began to move down that dark tunnel.
The smell, however, was another matter altogether. The entire city’s waste piled up in those tunnels, forming a noxious fume that reminded her of the filth of the beldam’s cave back in the desert. It wasn’t just waste either. Blood tinged the air, as did something wet and stagnant, like overgrown moss pumping its stale, overwhelming green scent into the air.
With only the light coming in through the grates above, she found herself wishing she still had the lighter she’d bought in Courtland from the traveling merchant. She did still have a box of matches, but she suspected it would be in her best interest to simply adjust to the darkness of those dank sewers than rely on them. Besides, if the sights of those tunnels at all matched the fetid smell, she wasn’t sure she wanted to see all that the sewers had to offer.
All she could see was the coarse rocks beneath her feet, the mossy growth covering it and the walls, and the vague silhouettes of objects floating along in the water. That was more than enough for her. So, Wynonna chose to go without light, but she wasn’t proceeding down there without her weapon drawn. She gripped the pearl and silver revolver in her hand, as she stepped through those wet tunnels in search of a creature that she knew could easily put her short career as a vespari at a premature e
nd.
Though Wynonna wasn’t certain what effects Corrigan had bequeathed her when she killed him, she knew that she had inherited at least a few left in his runic tattoos. The regeneration of some type of vampire was obvious to recognize, given her injuries healing more quickly. Down there in those dank sewers, Wynonna discovered one more effect that she thought she should have noticed before.
She realized that the tattoos vastly improved her sense of smell, which meant that when Corrigan died, the beldams and soul eater hadn’t yet drained at least one lycanthrope or vargulf from him. Though a sewer was not the greatest location to learn of such a thing, in this case, she decided it would prove quite useful.
Taking a couple whiffs of the putrid air, Wynonna found herself able to sift through the various smells in those tunnels and identify one that seemed useful. This smell was that of blood and meat, one of the naga’s victims, she suspected. With a feeling like she could almost visualize a trail of the odor rather than simply smelling it, Wynonna followed the scent.
As she walked forward, the vespari smelled the blood’s odor grow stronger with each step. Whether this was the naga or not, she knew that she grew closer to whatever she now tracked. Meanwhile, the sounds of the sewer died down. The water’s stream slowed, the noise coming from above all but disappeared entirely, and she no longer heard the scurrying of any rats or other small creatures down there. She took this as further proof that she grew closer to the naga. That and the fresh scent of blood in the pungent air.
Slowing her speed, stifling her breaths, and stepping lighter, Wynonna followed the scent and turned a corner. Though the light was sparse, the vespari saw what she could only assume was part of the naga’s nest. The creature had brought a variety of fabrics down from the surface, laying them down in a big pile. Behind the improvised carpeting, there was a large hole through which Wynonna couldn’t see what resided.
Creeping forward onto the rags and blankets, Wynonna could see both wet and dirty lines running through the fabrics, where the naga would have slithered along. Most of the trails led further into the hole at the back of the nest, which was also where the bloody scent led her. This collection of rags and other sheets seemed only to be the entrance, and as she grew closer to the hole, she saw that it led to a tunnel further carpeted with fabrics stolen from the people of Alexandria.
