WitchHunter ✔️

The Brother

Cozen

I'm not one for parties. By about the third hour, everyone is drunk, and my suit is too hot. The women are relentless; being a Hunter has its perks, after all. They even have the common decency to pretend the burn on my face doesn't matter to them. I can see it though. The shock, the borderline horror, before the mask. And all they see is the face. They don't see all that I hide, all the horror underneath the cotton and leather. Monster.

It's been 6 years since I've lived on the Ridge, 6 years since I've walked the streets of this city. Yet I still find myself outside Menagerie, its bright neon pink glowing sign like a beacon for me to find. The cobble streets are quiet, nearly the entire town up at Fortress, celebrating the three of us. And here I am, sweaty, tipsy, and bitter, standing in front of the most famous brothel on Haven.

I can still see the lights from the party up at Fortress. The building towers over the town, at the top of the ridge that gives our home its name. On the seaward side, the ridge drops off into the water below. On the landward side, the ridge arches down in a slight curving hill, finally meeting sea level where the beach and the port sit at the lowest point. The town arches down the spine of the ridge in such a way that you can see Fortress from just about anywhere, the lighthouse tower protruding up from the top making it all the easier to do so.

I turn away from the guild, and step into Menagerie. A menagerie in the literal sense is a zoo, a collection of wild and rare animals. Here in this ornately decorated building, the Menagerie is a grand, sweeping palace of a place, full of beautiful ,foreign girls and women, all given an animal likeness and sold for hours or nights at a time. The walls inside are gold, draped in red velvet hangings and gemstones glinting as they hang from the cords that arch across the ceiling. Pillows in dark emerald green and royal purple litter the front lobby, and a sharp-faced man dressed nearly as ornately as the room stands behind a gold desk. Behind him on either side, two red curtains obstruct the view of the women beyond.

"Good evening, Hunter." the man's voice beckons me forward, his voice rich and velvety. His eyes are partially hidden by long, thick lashes lined with charcoal.

"Good evening." I greet him.

"Have you come for a companion? I wouldn't have expected a Hunter here tonight, given the festivities up at Fortress."

"I'm not one for parties."

"Well then you've come to escape. Menagerie is full of pretty little items to take your mind away. Our items start at age 6 and go up to age 18. What age would you prefer?"

Age 6? They're just children. In Vetton, the brothels only sold adults. "Who do you reccomend?"

"Well, most Hunters rent out one pretty item in particular. She's a little on the older side, but our raven is one of our most popular possessions."

"How old?"

"18. She will need replacing soon."

Replacing. "Yes. She will do fine."

"Two silver pieces. I will call for her."

As I fish the money from my satchell, the man seems to glide along the marble flooring, peeking his head inside the leftmost set of curtains. "The raven has a collector." He turns back to me, his eyelids half closed. "Your item will be here shortly." The tips of his two fingers meet my coins, sliding them along the counter toward him with a shrrrrk! He drops them into his pocket just as the curtains part.

A thin, pale girl emerges, dressed in narrow strips of sheer black fabric held together with gold hardware. A sheer black veil covers her nose and mouth, her dark blue eyes lined with black and gold. Her nails are even painted black to match her attire, and her charcoal hair hangs in loose curls down her back. "Good evening, Hunter." Her voice is purposefully sensual, her tone low. Her eyes are politely vacant.

"Good evening, Sweeting."

She pases by me politely. "Follow me, if you will. I will take us somewhere magical."

Magical, as it turns out, is a tiny room taken up by an ornate round bed. The walls are cream marble with gold etchings around the edges, and the ceiling is entirely taken up by a large mirror, so the patrons and the girls have a clear view of all of the goings on in this bed. I lay back in this bed, lounging up against the mountain of pillows. She stands in front of the bed, all pale Octaven skin and black Hollen waves, and begins undressing. "Oh no, Sweeting." I beckon her closer. "None of that. Come lie with me."

She pauses, and under her veil, I catch the faintest glimpse of a smile. "Yes, Hunter." She settles gently next to me, her head on my shoulder, her left hand twiddling with the buttons on my jerkin. "I don't recognize you, Hunter. I've known all the seven in Fortress. Does this mean that you're one of the three for which the party is being held?"

"Aye. We've only just returned this morning."

"And I've been bestowed the honor of your presence on your first night home? I'm honored."

I pause for a moment. "This town is different from when I left. The people have changed."

She hums. "You're thinking of one in particular. Who is she?"

I crane my neck down to look at her pretty face. "Now how did you know that?"

She smiles knowingly through her veil. "In this line of work, you learn to read people. Now tell me, are you in love with her?"

I shake my head. "I've unfortunately never had those feelings for a woman, not yet anyway. Certainly not for the Ace."

A surprised look lights up her face. "You're talking about Alice?"

"Alice?"

"The Demon Raven of Kindleridge. Her name is Alice Spade."

I sit up. Is that true? How would this brothel girl possibly know that? "How do you know the Ace?"

"This is where she got the name Raven. She was the Menagerie's dark bird before me. Alice was my friend." The Ace. Alice, the Demon Raven, worked in a brothel?

My brows knit together. Why would an assassin work here? "When?" I ask.

"She worked here up until she was 16. She almost died saving Velius Dag's life, and when she finally came back after miraculously recovering, she had a huge ugly scar. Aunt Fahreen couldn't make any more money off of her so she refused to keep her around. Velius was furious, but if one person in this town can stand up to Velius Dag, it's Aunt Fahreen."

"So she was working here and for Velius at the same time?"

The raven nods. "From what she said, Velius was greedy, and saw her as a way to make more money. While she was still training, she would spend her days at Fortress and her nights here. Did you never notice that she didn't have a room in your building?"

My eyebrows furrow further. Did the Ace really not have a room in Fortress? I had never thought about it before. I must have assumed she slept in the assassin training room on the first floor. "So where does she live now?"

"After her injury, she moved into Fortress. I assume she has a room now, though I haven't spoken to her since. I see her sometimes at night though, skulking around following people from the rooftops. I miss her."

"You can see her? Most of the time I don't even know when she's in the room."

She laughs, her voice tinkling like bells. "She was my friend. I can practically sense her. I know her better than anyone." Her thin fingers dance lightly over my stomach, the fabric of my shirt taught against my skin. "Do you know her well?" With masterful skill, two dainty fingers undo a single button on my shirt.

"Not at all. We didn't really get to know each other growing up."

Another button comes loose. "Then why the interest?"

Her big blue eyes meet mine. Oh. I've been rude. I give her a warm smile. "Where are my manners? Speaking of another girl when a beautiful one already resides in my arms."

She grins, her fingers working quickly, opening my shirt. She's good. Her face hardly changes at all when she sees the burns covering my right side. I see it though. That tiny waver, that smallest flinch. The brief horror that darts through her eyes before the mask is back.

The lump of hatred settles back into the pit of my stomach, just behind the scar tissue. I settle back, pushing the anger away, and allow the raven to do what she does best.