Vespertine
Chapter V: V for Variety

Quinn waved goodbye to her friends as they headed out towards the bus stop. It was around 8:00; the three of them had just finished practicing their presentation for history tomorrow. As usual, Daniela carried the group’s workload and Hugo provided humor. Quinn supplied witty banter and coffee.

She watched them round the corner, and turned towards her bike, but didn’t get on. “I know you’re there,” she said, glancing pointedly at the dark alley next to the coffee shop. “How many times have I told you, I don’t need a bodyguard?”

There was a slight pause, and then Justine stepped out of the shadows sheepishly, followed by Tanner, who scratched his head and smiled curiously. “How’d you know?”

Quinn shrugged. “I didn’t. Not for sure, anyways. But it’s been a while since I forced Sal to stop sending people after me. I figured he’d start up again sooner or later. I say that every time I come out of the café, and today you guys responded.”

“Told you we should’ve just stayed in the alley,” Justine muttered, elbowing Tanner in the gut. Quinn grinned.

“Well, since you’re here, drive me back?”

“No need.” The words seemed to come from a nearby car, a sleek black model with rolled down windows that Quinn vaguely recognized, but couldn’t quite place. The voice, however, was unmistakably her brother’s.

She crouched next to the car, peering in. “Sal?”

“Hop in, sis. We’ve got places to be.”

“I know you think that sounded really cool, but I honestly can’t even see you.”

Salvatore leaned forward towards the passenger side, enough for the streetlight to illuminate half his face. “Shut up and get in, thanks.”

Quinn grinned and opened the door, swinging her long legs into the vehicle. She and Salvatore were both what Riana termed “tall creatures”, much like their parents had been. She pushed the thought away as a dull pain encapsulated her heart.

The drive back home was quiet, until Quinn realized the date. “It’s induction day!”

Salvatore gave her a strange look. “Yes, you idiot. Did you forget? You’ve been looking forward to this for a while.”

“No,” Quinn replied defensively. “Caffeine just messes with my brain function.”

“Not that you had much to begin with,” Salvatore murmured gleefully, but before Quinn could respond, he pulled into their driveway. “Now hurry up and change into something respectable. Marissa has threatened to sell you if I don’t get her car back within an hour.”

Quinn frowned. “You would let her sell me?”

He shrugged. “It’s you or me, and between the two of us…”

Quinn laughed and smacked his shoulder, then quickly got out of the car and dashed into the house. She rummaged through her closet until she found a dress she liked— red and short. She threw it on and then brushed her hair, dabbing on some makeup, smiling as she did so. It was induction day. Finally.

Ten minutes later she exited the house again, and locked the door before rapping on the car window. Another ten minutes and they had arrived at the base.

She hopped out excitedly while Sal parked, noticing that there was a sign out front: “Booked for Private Event”. She scanned the crowd indoors and found a couple of kids her age— Phoebe, Vanessa, Jakob— all dressed up and eager. She pushed open the door of the coffee shop, and Leo gave her a nod as she gave the code and headed towards the back door.

“Hey there,” Riana greeted her, resting a hand lightly on her shoulder. “You look great! Excited?”

Quinn nodded. “A little. Maybe scared. Mostly excited, though.”

She smiled warmly. “I know how hard you’ve worked for this, hon. You’ll be able to kick the shit out of every sorcerer from here to Incantare.”

She gave Quinn one last pat on the back before they entered underground. Tonight, all the lights were on, the pool tables and couches pushed aside to create a space in the middle for the customary speech. There was no microphone, but Salvatore stood in the center, waiting for everyone to hush.

It didn’t take long— Salvatore had a commanding presence about him that always drew people in. As the chatter quieted, the lights went down until only the one above Salvatore remained on.

“Thank you all for being here tonight,” he began graciously, smiling as a couple whoops echoed throughout the room. “As you probably all know, today is induction day, the day we welcome the newest official members of the V’s. The V’s have a long history— since the rise of sorcerers and their mortal conquest; we have been here, in the shadows, fighting for our people. We are not heroes, nor knights. We do the dirty work. We fight the fights nobody else wants to. My parents, leaders of the V’s before I, gave their lives for our cause. We lose, a lot—“ at this point, several people laughed humorlessly, “— but still we fight. We are not the shining captains, no, but we are soldiers. You know why we’re called the V’s?”

Everybody seemed to hold their breaths in anticipation.

“The V stands for many things. It stands for valiance. We may not be noble, but we are brave. We risk our lives, over and over again, for justice. It stands for verity. No longer can the mortals be subjugated so, no longer can we idly sit by and listening to the sorcerers speak of “natural order” and other phrases designed to lower us, when in truth we deserve to be equal.” Disgust tainted his words, and heads were nodding fervently throughout the room. Quinn realized she herself was hanging on to his every word.

“He’s got a real talent for this, huh?” She murmured quietly, and Riana nodded, but did not tear her eyes away from Salvatore.

“And sometimes it stands for vengeance. We aren’t always moral, but they deserve it.” A hard edge was present in his voice. “How many of you have lost people you love? How many of you have faced injustice, have been treated like shit?” Roars arose from the crowd, and Salvatore’s voice increased in volume. “And how many of you can say that you have fully gotten your revenge? How many wrongs have been righted thus far?”

His voice resumed a cool tone. “Someday, the V will stand for victory. Someday, we won’t have to meet in a place like this; someday we will stand proud and equal, someday there will be no difference— none— between those born into magic and those not.”

“The V should stand for variety,” Quinn joked, as if to escape the heavy atmosphere that had settled around her. There was something so frighteningly truthful about it that it scared her.

Claps resounded fiercely throughout the room and cheers erupted as Salvatore continued. “So tonight, we welcome our newest members. These brave soldiers have completed their training. They have worked hard for three whole years, never resting and never forgetting our goal.” He extended a hand, sweeping across the front of the crowd, and Riana shoved Quinn forward.

“Al Athens, please step up.” Al, a middle-aged man who had joined four years ago as a weapons supplier, but quickly decided to become an operative, walked out of the crowd and stood next to Salvatore.

“Jakob Chalan, please come forward.” Jakob, only a couple months older than Quinn, beamed as he walked up.

And on and on he went, until he finally reached the end of the alphabet.

“And last but not least,” said Salvatore, smiling slightly. “Quinn Vespertine. Please take your place.”

Quinn could feel all eyes on her as she walked up and to the end of the line, the lights above her warming her skin. Goosebumps formed, but not all of them from the newfound heat. Salvatore was facing them, and he nodded with pride as she stopped walking and lined up.

“You are now all official members of the V’s. Congratulations!”

Quinn felt a surge of pride. There was something exhilarating about this moment, and as she closed her eyes, taking in the applause and the feeling of pure belonging, she knew it would be a moment she’d cherish forever.

The line slowly broke as the newly inducted members drifted off to talk to their friends and families, and Riana came up to her again. She was grinning.

“You know, Salvatore never says this, but V stands for Vespertine, too,” Riana commented as they walked to the nearest table and grabbed a couple of sandwiches. “Your family has been at the head of the organization since it formed. Your parents, Salvatore…and someday it’ll be you.”

Quinn paused, her sandwich still halfway to her lips. She lowered it. “Wow. I guess you’re right.” She frowned and took a bite, contemplating what that would mean. She wasn’t a leader, not really. Salvatore was the one who had a knack for uniting people, the one who seemed to be able to eloquently weave his words together. Quinn was clumsier in that respect— she would rather be the punishment than the thinly veiled threat.

Riana drifted away to congratulate the others, leaving Quinn alone until Salvatore came up, bumping shoulders with her.

“How was I?” He asked, grinning cockily.

“Horrifically inspiring,” she replied, matching his smirk with one of her own. “Is it true I’ll be the next leader?”

He made an exaggerated motion, widening his eyes and staggering backwards with his hand over his heart. “Whoa, Quinn. Are you trying to usurp me? Is this a power play? Wanna fight?”

Quinn laughed, but swatted at him. “I’m serious. Riana said that I would be.”

He stood upright again and shrugged. “I mean, yeah. If you want to. If you don’t, we’d have to find someone we really trust.” He wrinkled his nose. “But I’m not that much older than you, so the next generation would really be our kids. And I hope to god this will all be over by the time we have children.”

Quinn internally breathed a sigh of relief. “Yeah, I suppose you’re right.”

Salvatore smiled. He had a sneaking suspicion Quinn would actually rather do anything else than be a leader. But she was young, and that would change. He just hoped it would change for the better.

But for now, she was striking in red, and his plan was on its way to falling in place.

Leo looked up as the bell tinkled and frowned. He was fairly sure everybody had already arrived, and the woman walking toward the counter wasn’t someone he recognized.

“I’m sorry, ma’am, but we’re not open right now. There’s a sign outside—“ he started, but she interrupted him delicately.

“Three ham sandwiches with peanut butter, please,” she said, resting her elbows on the counter and smiling, her eyes twinkling with traces of menace.

Leo narrowed his eyes. The code had been changed just yesterday, and the way the woman was poised instantly made the hairs on his neck stand up. He reached under the counter for the alarm button, but the sudden appearance of a barrel between his eyes made him stop.

“I wouldn’t do that, if I were you,” she warned, her voice still honey sweet. “Mortals are stupid, but not that stupid, right?”

He forced a chuckle out. “Well, aren’t you a sorcerer? What are you doing with a gun?”

She shrugged. “Convenience. It’s faster, and there’s less guts to clean up afterwards.” She grinned wickedly. “Now, be a good boy and put your hands up.”

For a brief, tense moment, their eyes locked and everything was still.

And then Leo smiled sadly, and pressed the button.

A moment later, he fell backwards, a single bullet hole through his head.

The woman sheathed her gun, smacking her lips in annoyance. “They value their lives almost as little as we do.”

“Don’t get petty,” Staed said, opening the door and striding to the counter. He jerked his chin towards the wooden door near the back. “Down there. But they’ll be waiting, so be careful. Call for backup as soon as you locate Vespertine.”

The woman, Genevieve, rolled her eyes. “Is it really necessary?”

Staed glared. “Yes. Do not underestimate them just because they are not sorcerers—what they lack in magic, they make up for with sheer viciousness.”

She sighed snidely. “The vicious V’s. Got it. Let me in.”

Staed nodded, and opened the door.

She pouted. “Come on, that’s no way to do it.”

He rolled his eyes and shut the door again.

Genevieve grinned, raised her hand, and the door caught fire and exploded into a million wooden fragments.

The alarm sounded.

Quinn’s head instantly snapped towards the sound, as did everyone else’s. The ringing noise was subtle, but loud enough to catch the attention of everyone in the room, especially seeing as they had all been trained to recognize it.

A second later, the room was a place of organized chaos. Most of the lights went off, with just enough on for everyone to know what they were doing. Without any instruction, two people ran to each side of the wall and flipped a switch; portions of the walls retracted to reveal weaponry, and everyone else lined up, efficiently gathering arms. The non-fighters hurried to the backrooms and set up defenses. Within a minute, everyone who was capable of combat was crouched behind various tables, couches, and counters, guns aimed at the door. It was dead silent. Quinn was behind a single seat near the back, her staff in her left hand and a knife in the right.

The door seemed to blow off its hinges, though Quinn couldn’t quite see in the dim lighting. The noise was spectacular, though, and accentuated by the silence that followed. She could practically hear the dust settling.

She could feel the tension. No one would move until the sorcerer made clear what she was here for, but judging by the state of the door, it couldn’t have been anything good.

“Hey, y’all!” She called out, cheerily. Quinn gritted her teeth at the sorcerer’s arrogant tone. “Don’t mind me. I’m just here for your leader.”

She laughed, a little maniacally. “Wow, that sounds like something an alien would say! I promise I’m not an alien, though.”

With one swift motion, she swept her arm and the nearest table caught on fire and subsequently disintegrated, revealing a pair of V’s, guns pointed at her. With a flick of the wrist, the guns turned to ash.

“I also promise,” she continued, “that if you don’t comply, I will literally burn this place to the ground.”

A shower of bullets pelted towards her, distracting her as the two mortals at her feet scrambled for shelter behind the nearby counter. She waved her arm, a look of concentration on her face, and within a split second the bullets crumbled, useless. A second volley pushed her back, but most of them either missed or turned to dust.

She growled and raised her hand, aiming a finger towards the counter, but at that moment, Salvatore streaked out behind her and slammed in her back with his foot, and she screeched as she fell forward.

“You were asking for me?” He asked, pressing his gun into the back of her head.

Quinn wanted to scream at him, scream that she would turn him into particles of charred flesh, but he seemed unfazed. The woman, to Quinn’s surprise, raised her hands and placed them on either side of her head, grunting, as she stood upright on her knees.

Salvatore searched her, keeping his gun at her skull. “Don’t even think about moving,” he said as he patted her jacket pockets. “My reflexes might just accidentally misinterpret any movement as hostile.”

She stayed still.

He pocketed a gun, taken from her belt, and a dagger on the other side. When he reached into her back pocket, she made a small noise of protest, and he looked up, momentarily distracted. She took advantage of that, ducking and elbowing Salvatore in the knee, hard. He groaned but recovered quickly, bringing his gun to the side of her face. She swore loudly and snapped her fingers, and his gun turned to charcoal dust. Quinn began to realize that her power seemingly only worked on inanimate objects, and felt a little better as the two of them grappled. Salvatore must’ve known.

No one dared to open fire for fear of accidentally hitting Salvatore, and the fight was happening at such a high speed that it was difficult for anyone to rush in.

“I found him,” she shouted, and Quinn frowned. That couldn’t be good.

“Fan out,” Salvatore grunted, narrowly avoiding a swipe from her right leg. He caught her leg and pulled, but she went along with it and struck him in the leg as she went down. She flipped backwards and the two circled, wary. From what Quinn could see, she had obviously taken more damage than Salvatore had, even without his weapons.

Everyone else had cautiously shifted until they formed a huge circle, pressed up against the walls. In the shadows, many were nearly impossible to discern. Quinn found herself pressed up in between Al and Josephine, and Josephine silently offered to trade one of her guns for Quinn’s knife, which Quinn graciously accepted. A gun would probably be useful when more sorcerers came pouring in.

As if on cue, a dozen or so sorcerers flooded the room, the first of which was holding up some kind of protective shield, glowing blue. All around the room, guns emptied their bullets, but the shield absorbed all the impact. When there was a momentary lull as people reloaded, the shield went down, and chaos ensued.

Quinn saw one sorcerer, a fire-thrower, coming her way. She crouched, measuring his movement as he approached. Josephine and Al were taking care of another sorcerer nearby. Hers was clumsy, but fast. Too fast for her to use the gun. But he was probably used to relying on his powers, and she smiled thinly as he reached her. She ducked as a burst of energy came towards her head, and swept her staff at his legs. He sidestepped and caught her in the ribcage with a flaming fist, causing her to jerk backwards, and though contact was brief, Quinn gasped at the pain.

She barely had time to recover before he was on her again, but this time she was ready. She feinted with the staff, ducked and came up again, so close she could’ve kissed him, and then pistol-whipped him, satisfactorily taking in his yelp of pain as he staggered backwards, towards the wall.

Now she was the one on the offensive, and she took the opportunity to level her staff with his ribcage, and as she whirled she jabbed. He barely avoided being skewered with a wooden stick as he stumbled out of the way. Not giving him time to think, she got in close again, avoiding his clumsy swipes and pressing her staff against his neck, crushing his windpipe, forcing his entire body against the wall.

He gasped for breath, and Quinn could see the fear in his eyes. He deserves this, she thought, feeling the searing pain in her side. Even so, she hesitated, unwittingly loosening her grip just a bit, and he seized his chance and grasped her staff in both hands, igniting the ends.

She yelped as the fire raced inwards, dropping the staff just as the flames reached her hands. “Oh, fuck you,” she growled, and he gagged in response, glaring murderously as he inhaled again.

She stepped backwards awkwardly, and reached for her gun, aiming it at him and wincing as she held her side with her other hand.

Her staff was smoking in his hands, and he snapped it in half, prompting her to fire. She missed, and he ignited his hands, rushing towards her. She fired again, but he was moving too fast for her to aim accurately, and the space was too close. She fell on her ass as he came near her, and she began to panic.

She rolled out of the way as he punched downwards, the proximity to his flaming hands causing her to tear up. She took a deep breath and started towards him, and he waited to receive her, the fire never dying. She winced at the thought of being burned again and decided to settle for circling him. That was when she spotted her knife laying on the floor, at his feet. A quick glance to the right confirmed that Josephine had dropped it— she was now fighting with just her fists and her gun.

“Here we go,” Quinn muttered, patting her abdomen one last time before taking a deep breath and rushing full speed towards the sorcerer. She feigned a swipe with the pistol, and as both his hands came up to grasp her wrist, she dropped like a stone and wriggled between his legs, rolling and coming up behind him. She snatched her knife off the floor and turned around just as he did, and she wasted no time in gutting him.

He choked in shock as her knife plunged into his stomach, and his hands dimmed, the fire extinguished. She could tell he was in pain.

“Here, let me put you out of your misery,” she said, breathing hard. The knife still inside, she brought her pistol up, and felt the metal beneath her finger as she pressed the trigger. It was warm, having been held in her hand for so long.

And then he was gone.

He slumped to the ground and Quinn withdrew her knife, eyes burning with smoke. She felt like she was dying, and as the tears began to flow down her face, she wasn’t sure whether it was from the smoke, the pain in her side, or the fact that she had just killed a man for the first time. Maybe all three.

She collapsed, crawling away. She saw Josephine and Al sit down, and surmised that the dead guy next to them was the sorcerer they had been fighting.

The whole room was a mess. Stray fires sputtered, and there was a haze that caused Quinn to cough. There were a number of people collapsed, injured or dead. She couldn’t see anybody else as she dragged herself next to Josephine and Al, the former of which gave her a nod, and the latter was passed out.

“Where’s Salvatore?” Quinn asked hoarsely. Jo shook her head, and Quinn could hear that the sounds of combat were dying down. Less footsteps and shouting and cursing.

“We’re retreating!” Came a voice through the smoke, and Quinn knew that it came from a sorcerer as she caught a glimpse of that blue shield again.

A few moments later, the room was silent save for the cries of pain. The fire alarm had finally been triggered, and water rained down all around, extinguishing the remaining fires and clearing some of the smog.

She saw Salvatore against the far wall, clutching his arm. He had fashioned a temporary bandage out of his shirt, and she tried to call out to him, but found that the pain in her side was unbearable, and coughs racked her body, exacerbating the pain.

Jo stood up shakily, half-carrying Al in her strong arms. She seemed mainly unhurt save for a couple of bruises and cuts, and she walked off with him, motioning for a nurse to tend to Quinn. Quinn noticed faintly that the nurses and noncombatants had all streamed out of the backrooms, and realized that the alarm had finally been shut off, signaling that it was safe for them to come out.

The nurse was snapping her fingers in front of Quinn face, but her lids were fluttering and she was insanely tired. “Quinn,” she heard the nurse say. “Quinn, I need you to stay with me. Quinn, just hold on.”

“Mhm,” she mumbled, feeling her lids droop ever further. All she could think about was how much her side hurt. The nurse was cutting into her dress, and as she peeled the fabric back, Quinn groaned at the unpleasant sensation. She was saying something, but Quinn could hardly bother to listen. She just wanted to close her eyes.

A couple hours later, Quinn sat up in a bed, surmising she must have passed out at some point. The beds around her were almost all occupied, and people shuffled around and about, tending to the injured. She patted her side and felt the cloth bandage- the wound felt much better, and only really hurt when she moved. She gingerly touched her face. There was ash all over her. Luckily, besides the burn, she hadn’t seemed to suffer any other serious injuries.

She swung her legs off the bed, drawing in a sharp breath as pain stabbed at her side. But it was definitely better than before, and she sucked in her cheeks and stood up, walking shakily towards the door.

There were people still in the main room, setting the tables and chairs back up and doing their best to clean up the mess. The bodies on the floor had apparently been disposed of. Other members were collapsed on the couches, and Quinn spotted Salvatore and Marissa next to the completely wrecked door.

“Hey,” she croaked out as she reached them. Marissa looked at her, for once making no snide comment. Marissa had been out tonight, getting some more supplies for the café, missing the fight. She wore a calm mask, but Quinn could see the anger bubbling beneath it. Marissa Queens was mad.

Salvatore, on the other hand, simply looked exhausted. “Hey, Quinn,” he replied, bringing his good arm up to pat her on the shoulder. “I heard you held your own pretty good tonight.”

Quinn raised an eyebrow. “Really? Who said that?”

He smiled wearily. “Everyone who saw you. Said he got a hit in, but you gave twice as good as you got.”

Quinn tried to smile back, but she could feel her stomach twisting. “Yeah, I killed him,” she blurted out, and felt dizzy as soon as she said it.

To her surprise, Marissa rested a gentle palm on her back.

“Come here, Quinn.”

Quinn numbly let Marissa lead her through the door, relaxing under her touch.

“Quinn, you did good,” Marissa said softly, gazing at her with her perfect green eyes. Her stomach was turning again, but this time for a very different reason.

“Did I?” Quinn asked, realizing how small and afraid her voice sounded. Marissa nodded.

“You got inducted today, right? You heard Salvatore. We do the dirty work because we have to. Think about your parents, Quinn. Think about why you fight in the first place.” They had reached the counter, and Marissa tightened her grip on Quinn’s shoulder, stepping aside.

Quinn stared in shock at Leo’s big frame, splayed out carelessly on the ground. Red blossomed on the wood around his head, and his forehead was pierced with a dark hole.

“This is what they do,” Marissa whispered. “Remember that.”

Quinn could feel a sob, stuck in her throat, as she just stared. Gentle Leo. Warm Leo, kind Leo.

Dead Leo with a bullet in his brain.

The tears were spilling over. He didn’t deserve that. He didn’t. Leo didn’t even fight— he was just the storekeeper. He was just the father figure, the person who gave them all a place to call home. Why had this happened to him?

She could bear to look no longer, and she turned away, into Marissa’s chest. Her body shuddered as she cried, anger mixing with sadness. God. God. Marissa wrapped her arms around Quinn and stroked her hair gently.

“You did good, Quinn. You did.”

She gave Quinn a kiss on the cheek, led her back down into the main room, and sat her down on a couch. There, Quinn cried and cried until she fell asleep.

She awoke to Salvatore gently shaking her shoulder. “Hey,” he said softly, as her eyes fluttered open. “We’re going.”

“Going?” Quinn echoed, rubbing her eyes and sitting up straight. Her neck was stiff, and the room was empty. How long had she been asleep?

“It’s almost 3 in the afternoon,” Sal said, reading her mind. “We’re relocating to this place a little bit outside of town— most everybody is there already. We can’t stay here now that they know where we are. Come on, get up. I’ll take you back to the house to grab some things, and then we’ll go over to the new base.”

“Are we gonna have to move?” Quinn asked, frowning. She didn’t want to leave the house she had grown up in.

Salvatore sighed, running a hand through his hair. “I don’t know. Probably. If they found the base, it won’t be long until they find our house.”

Quinn chewed her lip nervously. “Could they have found us already?”

Salvatore shook his head. “No. The alarms I set up haven’t alerted me yet. No one’s been in or out.”

Her heart rate slowed just a bit hearing that. She stretched, grimacing as she licked her lips. She was pretty sure she hadn’t had a single drop of water in the past twelve hours.

“You are going to have to switch schools, though,” Salvatore said. “Just to be safe.”

Quinn nodded. She would miss Daniela and Hugo, but she knew it was crucial.

She started to stand up, but Salvatore grabbed her arm, tugging, and she landed on the couch again. She looked at him in bewilderment.

He took a deep breath, contemplating his next words. “Quinn…listen. This is far from over.”

“Okay?” She said, cautiously. “What are you talking about?”

“I mean,” he said urgently, “this whole war. This, this struggle between the mortals and the sorcerers, it isn’t going to end anytime soon. Not at this rate.”

She frowned. “But don’t you have a plan? You delegate all the assassinations and stuff. Isn’t it all coordinated?”

He struggled to explain clearly. “Yes, it is, but that isn’t enough. There’s a bigger plan.”

She gave him a look. “Well, what is it?”

He shifted uncomfortably. “Well, I can’t really tell you.”

She threw up hands up. “Is this conversation going to start making sense or are you just screwing with me?”

“It will make sense,” he insisted quickly. “I just need you to trust me.” He reached into his shirt and pulled out a thin leather cord, a small key dangling on the end of it. “This is literally the key to everything.”

“That told me absolutely nothing,” Quinn grumbled, staring at the little gold key. It caught the dim yellow lights in the main room.

Salvatore slipped it back under his shirt. “I’ve told you enough. You’re a smart girl.”

She opened her mouth to protest, but he stood up and started to walk away. She scrambled to follow.

A few hours later, she was back to sitting on a couch, but this time in the new base. The new base was substantially less cozy; rather than being in a shop, it was in the basement of an abandoned gym. It was dreary and lonely, and Quinn felt antsy as she twirled her knife around and around.

She couldn’t stop reliving last night, the feeling of her knife plunging into the sorcerer’s stomach. She tossed it up and snatched it out of the air and sat up, sheathing her knife.

“I’m going for a walk,” she said to Tanner, who was sitting near the door. He nodded.

“Stay nearby,” he said. “Salvatore will have my head if you get kidnapped or something.”

Quinn smiled. “Sh, just pretend like you didn’t see me.”

Tanner looked away, already playing along, a grin on his lips.

She felt much better as soon as she slipped outside, the cool, late summer air reviving her. Dusk was spreading, turning the rosy skies into a lavender shade that Quinn found agreeable.

She circled around the building many times, and then decided to go down the road a little further, just to see if there was anything remotely interesting there. She had scarcely gone more than a couple hundred meters before she felt someone behind her, her senses on high alert.

She whipped around just in time to see a boy, with blonde, unruly hair, jump backwards as if he’d seen a ghost. As he leaped away, he landed gracelessly, and stumbled until he finally managed to find a grip on the ground. With his butt.

She stared, dumbfounded. He was dressed in a black, long-sleeved tee and black trousers, with a stunner strapped to his belt. His wide, hazel eyes had a quality of confusion about them.

“Who the hell are you?” She asked harshly, swiftly pulling out her knife and holding it up in a defensive position.

“Uh,” was all he said.

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