Hunting Lady

Watergate, Giza, 10-340: Wednesday

This is going to be a disaster. I had set my hopes for the company on a mediocre level, but it turned out they were far too high. I was not expecting Gavin to be particularly clever or interesting; I was content with him being tall with the regular good looks and the promise of a dinner sealed the deal for me. I should never make decisions when I am hungry.

Gavin Gerensky has curly brown hair and dark eyes with long lashes. His hair reaches his earlobes and is swept back behind the ears in a look that seems carefree but has taken time and adjustment to achieve.

He is wearing a cream-colored jacket with a fashionable scarf around his neck. The pale red emphasizes his colors and contrasts with the darker red of his shirt. Gavin looks good and he knows it. He is from a rich family but I’ve learned he is full of himself. He is so occupied with his ego that there is no room for considering me, my opinions, or my comfort.

In my current financial state, I could endure these qualities as a fair payment for the food, but Gavin has revealed himself as a devoted believer in all the worst aspects of the end-of-the-world lore. Sexism and misogynism I can deal with when there is free beef on my plate but talking about the minor mishaps as something deliberately caused by the people who died 300 years ago is cutting it for me.

Gavin has shown only the most rudimentary interest in my opinions. The only part where he listened to my words was when he asked me about my health and even then, he dared to use the five major points in the Kirlianite list of the signs of the ash. Good thing he didn’t have a notebook to mark my answers down! I should have bolted then, but we had just started the main dish and it was too good to leave on the plate.

I passed the questionnaire as Gavin is explaining his previous girls’ faults. He is like a newspaper caricature of a person scared of the end of the world curses. He is almost comical enough to make this worth my time, but his rambling talk worsens when the dessert is served, and I am ready to storm away. Only the excellent chocolate cake makes me stay, for my work in the Sea Affairs Office doesn’t allow me to indulge in desserts.

We finish the dinner and Gavin pays for it. He is rude to the waiter, but I am not expecting him to do better. Finally, we are outside. “Thanks for the evening, Gavin, but I don’t think you are the kind of man I’m looking for,” I say, looking at him in the eyes to make my point clear.

The creep is not listening to a word I say, he just puts his hand on my waist and leans closer. “You are a beauty, Inez. I’ll take you to my house.”

“I am leaving now, alone,” I proclaim adding a disdainful look to my dismissing voice. Gavin doesn’t even remember my name. I am Indira Kanden, although I gave him the wrong surname. My grandad used to be a highwayman, my father is a baron and I have seen my share of tough guys. I am not going to be scared by the advances of a random upper-class idiot.

“Is that girl giving you some trouble?” a male voice says behind us. Two guys have followed us out. Oh ash, they are the friends Gavin greeted when we were eating. I’ll have to leave before they decide to share me. Why on earth and sky didn’t I believe my instincts?

The next payroll is only two days in the future, I could have survived without going to Istevio. Istevio is my older brother, and he will be furious if anything happens to me. We don’t need him to crack my date’s nose; Gavin is a Gerensky, and they are a wealthy family with connections to the army. Gavin would destroy Istevio’s career to get petty revenge. I look around, trying to think of a solution. There is a pair of unknown women, about my age, meaning around 19 years.

“Hey, girls!” I call them. “Sorry I’m late, the dinner took longer than I thought. Where have you been?” The black-haired woman understands my situation and drags her friend in our direction. Bless her pretty eyes.

“We’ve been looking for you. Your dad said he needs you.” She has a sweet voice, but her dress is a cheap one. She is probably an accountant or a clerk or something similar. I have been pretending to be one for a few months now and understand the financial struggle already. Show some solidarity ladies, please, let me come with you.

“Are you a package deal? I can satisfy you all,” Gavin continues, but the black-haired woman holds my hand, glares at him and Gavin lets me go. His friends throw nasty comments, but I don’t care about them as the girls hurry me away.

“Those slimy dudes think they own the place,” the black-haired one says when we have put some distance between us and the restaurant. “Better we walk you a few blocks.”

“Keep away from their kind,” her friend says. She has a cute hat with a pretty ribbon on it.

“Thanks, girls. I was about to kick his nuts to make my point clear.” I would have done it. Mother didn’t want me to be a fighter, but I have three brothers and no sisters, and I couldn’t help but learn some things.

“No problem. That Gerensky and his dudes are a menace. He would have thrown you out for having a mole in the wrong place.” The black-haired one sounds furious.

Pretty-hat seems to share her friend’s opinions. “But only after the sex. They are so superbly pure, never breathed the ash, soaring high above everyone else. Or so they think,” she whispers, looking behind her shoulder.

“Yeah, he rambled on about the curses and the damnation. A fanatic sees demons and Tarasten’s work everywhere.” Gavin’s kind is what I hate. They have seeded their crazy beliefs so deep into the Khem administration that the whole country is looking only inwards, fearing the mutations and bad winds and old Tarasten’s minions. It halts all the progress and makes trade abroad difficult.

“They didn’t get you. And at least you got a dinner,” Dark-hair continues and I laugh. I have experienced some of their world, the working-class reality. We follow the streets to an empty marketplace, where the girls leave me by a fountain.

My tiny rental attic is close, but to reach that I must go through an alley with an illegal bar hiding in a basement. The place is too old and famous to be operated without the authorities’ approval, but the owners want to upkeep the veil of secrecy and have set no sign on the street, and you’ll have to know the right door to knock to get in.

My bad luck continues as I walk through the alley. Gavin and his friends are here, making their way towards the bar. The rumor says you must be on a list to get in and those people sure have the money to buy themselves into any list. I press myself quietly into a nook and hope they are still too angry to pay attention to the details around them.

The door to the bar is between my hiding place and the three men. It opens and a guy steps out, he starts walking towards the men adjusting his hat. I notice how he takes a tiny side-step when stepping down to the alley; maybe he is a bit tipsy.

The man from the bar is medium height, maybe ten centimeters taller than me. He wears dark clothes of a good fit, and his hat has a fashionable asymmetric brim. The man’s complexion is quite pale, I guess that’s why Gavin and his group pick him as a target to vent their anger.

Gavin stops the guy and blocks his way with his arm. The guy from the bar seems to have a light eye color to go with his skin, too bad for him, he is about to get a beating. Sorry, not too sorry mister Tipsy-hat.

“Look what has crawled out from the depths of the cursed desert. Where are you going to, ash-demon?” Gavin starts and the others carry on with the taunting. Tipsy-hat is shorter than any of the three men, but he stays his ground and grins, showing very white teeth.

“I heard a rumor of you knights approaching and I am retreating to the den of sin and defilement. Do you want to join?” Tipsy-hat knows what he is up against and doesn’t give a damn. He has an attitude and an accent underlining he is a foreigner.

The humor is too complex for Gavin and his dudes. “It can talk!” Gavin exclaims and is awarded with a burst of laughter from his friends. Gavin tries to take hold of Tipsy-hat’s lapels, but he casually pushes the hand away, hard enough that Gavin scrapes his knuckles against the wall. It angers the taller man and his friends. Bad move, Tipsy.

“You ash-raped bastard,” Gavin growls and attacks the guy with his fists. His friends circle Tipsy to hold him. Tipsy is a fast one, he ducks the fists making the taller man look slow, and breaks through the closing circle of men. Tipsy has a chance to run to the alley, but he pivots gracefully to face the three men, still grinning.

“I enjoy the foreplay, but is this all you have to offer? You should try me, I like the taste of the local boys.“ Tipsy’s voice has deepened, he is taunting the dudes. I see no fear; he is enjoying this. I silently cheer for him, that attitude is hot, and his movements are a delight to my eyes. Besides, anything Tipsy does to ridicule Gavin is a huge bonus in my accounting.

Gavin snorts furiously and attacks, not the clever way, but not the fully enraged idiot way. The education for a man of his social standing includes an introduction to close combat. This time Tipsy meets him, sidesteps the incoming hit with no effort, gives a nasty kick behind Gavin’s knee, and hits an elbow to his back where the kidneys are, all that in a flowing stream of controlled movement.

Tipsy is in the full move, he leaves Gavin to collapse and is already attacking the next dude. He hits him with a double punch to the stomach, grabs an arm coming his way, twists, steps, and sends the dude staggering toward the wall.

Gavin’s last friend is a scary one. He reveals a hunting knife. It is an ugly thing, with a serrated part to look extra intimidating. Its blade is next to useless for cutting meat neatly, but I’m sure neat wounds are not in his mind.

“You like toys?” Tipsy hisses, he has ditched all caution now; his movements are pure action and aggression, vibrant and alive. There is nothing dull in Tipsy, compared to Gavin’s group he is a hunter, and they are fat rabbits.

“Yeah, baby. Let me show it to you nice and close,” the dude with the knife whispers. He has a coarse voice with an undertone hinting he very much likes the idea of cutting people with his knife. Tipsy is not losing his momentum; he feints, barely evades getting scraped to his side, and tries to hit the knife away but misses. There is a brief mess of hands grabbling and blocking, but it’s the knife guy who grunts and drops to his knees pressing his stomach. I see no blood.

Tipsy picks up the knife, but the sound of steps interrupts him. A new group of people is standing at the end of the alley. Tipsy almost pushes the knife into Gavin’s shoulder but one of the newcomers shouts: “What takes so long? Did you find company?”

“I said we can’t leave him alone,” a female voice says when they approach. The group consists of two men and two women, all in hats and nice coats. They must have some money. The secret bar is a place for the better folks.

I can hear Tipsy taking a deep breath while he straightens himself. He drops the knife and gives it a kick making it clatter away. “They had an accident,” he says. I love that soft accent telling obvious lies, it is sexy.

“Indeed. Come on,” a young man in a black coat says. I recognize him; he is Ernst, the youngest of the three sons of the Norberg family. The Norbergs have created their wealth in the construction business. The Norberg brothers are known to throw parties and seem to count Tipsy among their acquittances.

Gavin and his friends are getting to their feet as Tipsy and his group disappear from the alley. One guy fetches his knife, and they brush themselves and enter the bar. No permanent damage was done then; bad boy Tipsy. You should have broken some bones for me and the other girls those guys have harassed.

The way is finally clear for me to continue my way home. On the way, I think about Tipsy.

I am not into the pale complexion, he looked unhealthy with those blonde eyebrows, but oh the olds, he was a sexy one. The effortless bad-ass attitude combined with the unrestrained violence when it was called for. He was a pleasure to watch.

But I’m not interested only in his looks or skills, for such qualities are widely available. Tipsy would be a perfect candidate for a mission I have been planning. He is a foreigner in this city, check. He is skilled in violence, check. He can be manipulated to attack a target of my choosing; to be confirmed.

I need to get an invitation to a Norberg party to get a chance to talk to Tipsy.