Agatine (Terres book II)

Chapter Sixteen

Wren burst into the brothel's doorway, scarcely even noticing the group of girls lounging around on pillows in the main room. She had one singular goal, and that was to find Phina. She raced down the hallway and up the tiny set of stairs that led to the roof. The door banged open and light poured into the tiny hallway. Wren glanced around, but there was no Phina, only empty air.

She sat on the stairs and sucked in a big breath of air. The thought of Rannok's face and the grimaces as she stitched his torn lip back together still made her want to retch. Footsteps echoed up the stairs. Wren's breath caught in her throat. Phina wasn't supposed to be up here, which meant she probably wasn't supposed to be up here, either. She glanced around for an exit, then sighed with relief as Phina's face popped into view, illuminated by the ray of light coming in through the doorway. 

"Wren? Why are you up here?" Phina asked. "I thought you weren't coming. The sun's been up for hours."

Wren leaned with one hand against the wall, hoping she wouldn't look too much like she was begging. "I need help, my friend's hurt and I don't know who did it, but I need to find out and I need you to show me how to do that," Wren spilled out in one big breath. 

Phina folded her arms. Her wings fluttered on her back slightly as she gave Wren an incredulous look. "I didn't think you wanted to do what I do."

"I changed my mind," Wren said, trying her best to sound serious instead of broken. She wouldn't let this happen again. She wouldn't leave herself to helplessness anymore. She'd take it back, before it could happen to anyone else. And who knew how far they would take it, next time. What damage they would do. She'd kill them before they had a chance to kill her or her friends.

For a second Phina looked worried, but it passed just as quickly. She nodded and fixed Wren with a serious expression. "You can't go back once you start," she said. "Men will look for you, and Marion won't let you leave with their secrets. This is a permanent choice, the one you're making. You understand that, right?"

"Yes," Wren said. 

"Okay," Phina replied. Her expression softened a little and she took a seat next to Wren on the stairs. Wren scooted over a little so there was room, but the stairwell was so small that their wings brushed together and she could hear Phina's breath in the darkness.

 "I didn't think I wanted to hurt anyone, but I do. I want to kill them for what they did. They didn't even hurt him for a good reason. They mugged him in an alley because he was marked. I had to sew the bits of his face back together. I want to know who did it and I want them to pay for it." Wren lifted her head and looked Phina in the eyes. Phina looked away.

"You understand," she said, and she thought to herself for a second, then nodded. "Do you know how to make people tell you secrets?" she asked. 

"No," Wren said.

"You give them a bit of yourself. Not a big piece, a very small one. You tell them something that sounds personal. It doesn't even have to be a true piece, as long as it makes you sound vulnerable. They crack right open like a dropped egg."

Heat rose to Wren's face. She remembered the conversation on the rooftops. The one where Phina had told her why she liked to kill, how people always left and they would always end up alone, just like all the other marked ones. She couldn't help but wonder if Phina had supplied alcohol simply to lubricate her throat so her secrets spilled out more easily. Wren wasn't sure whether to be angry. She stared down at her feet.

"You were doing that to me," she said.

"I was, but only because I was curious. You walked in here with a dark cloud over your eyes and I wanted to know why. I didn't think you'd tell me otherwise."

"What made you think it was your business?" Wren asked.

"It wasn't. But you are desperate for a friend. There aren't that many people you can trust when you're like us. I wanted you to trust me."

Wren nodded but didn't say anything. She knew Phina was right. That she was weak and desperate and lonely and that if she wasn't careful it would be her undoing. But it wasn't fair. It wasn't fair that Phina got to decide whether or not Wren was her friend, and Wren had no choice in the matter. If you could call someone who did what Phina did a friend. Friends didn't usually manipulate one another.

"I won't do it again," Phina offered. It didn't make Wren feel much better. Pinpricks bristled up her neck and she folded her arms across her lap. Phina didn't look at her, and she didn't look at Phina. They sat in silence in that stairwell, ignoring the noise when the wind slammed the door at the top shut, bathing them in darkness.

"Did you lie to me about everyone leaving?" Wren asked. She was afraid of the answer. Another lie from another person would only serve to make her angry again, and she didn't want to be angry anymore. Her shoulders sank.

"No," Phina said, and Wren's eyebrows raised in surprise. "I fledged when I was twelve. My parents left me in the streets and Marion gave me a place to live. I still see them, sometimes, when I fetch water in the morning, or in the square, but they pretend I don't exist. I had a friend, a boy, who hung around for a couple years in secret, then took off when his parents found out. I still see him sometimes, too." She sighed. "I saw him with a girl a few weeks ago. I suppose I'm happy for him."

"Are you lying to me now so I'll tell you something about myself?" Wren asked.

"No," Phina replied.

Wren's hands shook. The fact that she couldn't see Phina's eyes in the dark threw a knot in her stomach. She was sure Phina's lies came as easily to her as the truth did, and she couldn't see her eyes. Not that she was convinced it would make a difference, anyway. Once one got used to lying, it didn't much matter what was the truth or not.

"I don't trust you," Wren said. She stared down at the pinprick of light curving around the stairs and wondered how long it would take for someone to notice they were missing.

"I know," Phina replied.

"You scare me."

"I know that, too," Phina said. "If you're going to try to ply secrets, you should learn to keep your feelings off your face. Or at least to make them look like something else."

"I'll try," Wren said. She sighed and her hands balled into anxious fists. "When do--How do I know that they want to spend time with me? Do you know who they are? The people who come here, I mean."

Phina laughed. "Most of them. Some I don't. They'll hang around the front room and then ask you if you want to talk alone, usually. Most of them won't hurt you. At least, not more than once, if they know what's good for them." Phina's tone got hard for a second. It made Wren want to jump. "Just remember that you are in charge, not them. Ask questions. Make it seem like you care."

Wren nodded, even though Phina couldn't see her in the dark. The whole idea terrified her. Of the men, of whether or not they'd try to hurt her and if she really was capable of making them tell her things. If she was capable of killing them, if necessary. She felt sick, but more sure than anything that this was what she wanted to do. She'd make the men who nearly killed her friend pay for it, no matter how long it took.