Straight Through The Heart ((ON HOLD))

Chapter Two

Northwick was at its busiest on market days, and especially during the warmer days of early autumn when the doors to the shops could be wedged open and vendors could peddle their wares in the open-air market center. Smells of baking bread and confections mingled with the sounds of windchimes and chiffon dresses flittering in the breeze. Alisa, having finished her task of unloading the day's harvest, left her father and brother to manage the stall so that she could meander through and admire the craftsmanship on display. Alisa and Bren both earned a small wage for helping their father on market days, and she saved every coin she could specifically for her browsing.

Spending coin may have been one of Alisa's guilty pleasures, but not as much as eavesdropping in on gossip when people didn't know she was observing them. She had been reprimanded by her parents plenty of times when she was caught listening in on their personal— and more often, private— conversations, but her desire to know outweighed any social correctness. It was how she knew about what her parents were, and why Chey continued to visit, and why her mother was always so angry whenever he left.

They ceased telling her things a long time ago, so she figured out a way to find them out for herself.

Listening in on the people of Northwick also kept her up to date with what was happening outside of their village. While she bought a sweet roll at her favorite bakery, she listened as two elderly villagers sitting at a nearby table debated what good the Parish was if they couldn't send help when the commonfolk actually needed it.

"You know they're still trying to replenish their forces after the war. Even the Council continues to rebuild—"

"If they did their job in the first place, there wouldn't need to be any rebuilding. Sealing the Rift was supposed to get rid of the demons."

"There have always been demons. That's why we need the Venandi."

"Sometimes I think they make their own demons just to give the Venandi something to do."

She also began to understand why her mother decided against joining them on their visits. While Alisa was a listener, Azima Rousseau was notoriously impulsive, acting first and apologizing later, if at all. Those men would have been on their asses and wearing their coffee before they realized they were on the floor if Azima had been there to hear them.

So instead, Alisa listened for her.

At the local bookshop, as she looked for the next book from her mother's favorite romance author, Alisa overheard another customer tell the shopkeeper that she had heard from her sister who had heard from her husband who had heard from his farmhand that the Parish expected an influx of pilgrims that year.

"Why would this year be any different than any others?" the shopkeep inquired as she wrapped the customer's purchase in brown paper.

"Think about it," the customer murmured suggestively. "It's been eighteen years since the War of the Rift. You know the first thing those Venandi did when they returned home was re-establish their line—"

Alisa dropped the book she was skimming, causing a break in their conversation. Both looked over to her as she bent down to pick it up and she gave them each a small apologetic smile before they returned to their conversation, voices hushed and conversation rushed as Alisa stepped forward to make her own purchase.

The other customer gave her one look over and a small nod before excusing herself, and the shopkeeper was pleasant as she wrapped up Alisa's book, but she knew they knew.

They all knew. Everyone knew.

Azima Rousseau, Savior of the Rift, returned home and did just that.

Placing the wrapped book for her mother in her shoulder bag, right next to the sweet roll for her brother, Alisa had one more stop to make before she returned to the apple stand to relieve her father. The jangle of the coin pouch at the bottom of her bag brought a smile to her face. The main reason she had been saving every penny she earned. The one thing she wanted to buy for herself above all other available wares offered to her in Northwick.

The bell above the seamstress's door jangled, and already Alisa was consumed by the swatches of colorful silks and glittering fabrics that surrounded her.

"I'll be right with you!" she heard the owner call from further back in the shop.

Alisa didn't mind— it gave her more time to consider and reconsider what she wanted to purchase though she knew what dress she wanted since the first time she saw it. It was just about a year ago when she first saw the conglomeration of soft pink sheers and lace. She finally saved enough to purchase it as of the last market day, and had built up the nerve to ask the seamstress to hold it for her until the next one. Where the other young women would be celebrating coming of age, she would be celebrating one more year of having to stay where she was... but she would make damn sure she looked good while she did it.

She didn't see it back out on display so she hoped the seamstress held true to her word, but that didn't mean Alisa couldn't look around to see what she could save up for next year.

At least, she would have if a nearby conversation hadn't distracted her.

The back of the shop was reserved for the changing area where the seamstress could assess her customers as they tried on their garments before a long floor-length mirror. The private area was separate from the rest of the store by a hung tapestry falling almost from ceiling to floor. Though it allowed the customers some extra privacy, it did not keep the sounds within from becoming public.

"... rumors start somewhere, Bellina," the customer was chirping to the shop owner. "You know it's only going to be a matter of time before they make their way to Northwick."

"Now, now," Bellina mumbled through what sounded like pinched lips holding pins between them. "Bad omens and all that."

"Bad omens are already here, and have been for the last eighteen years."

"Clora," Bellina hissed. "Don't say such things."

"They're already attacking along the coast, and soon they're going to grow bolder."

"The Parish will take care of us."

"No, the Parish only takes care of its own."

"The Venandi are rebuilding—"

"The Venandi is having a holiday in an apple orchard while the rest of us fear for the worst."

"You and I both know we owe our lives to Azima Rousseau. If it wasn't for her—"

"Azima Rousseau is a coward. She has a sworn duty to protect us from the hellspawn and she can't even deign to grace us with her presence."

"I'm sure she has her reasons."

"I've heard her reasons include a demon cock and a broken—"

The tapestry moved aside so fast Alisa didn't have a moment to step back and came face to face with the two women as they stepped through into the main shop.

"Oh. Alisa," Bellina said, her surprise as evident as she stopped short. "I didn't know you were here."

The glance between the women told her enough— that it wouldn't matter if she did.

"I won't be long," Alisa ground out through clenched teeth, her attention solely on the woman standing behind Bellina who almost seemed to shrink beneath Alisa's glare. With eyes an amber akin to molten gold, it had been said her mother stole some of Hell's fire and gave it to Alisa on the day she was born. Sometimes Alisa wondered if she took more than that from her mother as she clenched her fists at her sides. "I just wanted you to know I will not be purchasing the dress this week."

"Oh, no?" Bellina frowned. "If you need to extend the hold I can keep it until next week—"

"No," Alisa growled. And leaned over to bare her teeth at the other woman. "I won't be deigning to grace you with my presence either."

The woman had the sensibility to flinch, and neither said a thing as Alisa stormed from the shop, slamming the door shut so hard she heard the bell fall to the ground in her wake.