While we were still in Jaska, I'd sent Rhydian ahead to Oskari under the pretense I had errands to run in the city. I didn’t want him knowing about the cabin or my roommate, and I needed to pick up a few things and catch up with Zack:
At Home With Zack - Entry Log #3
“The Spark is hoarding a significant number of explosive devices in her workshop.”
“Right on track, then.”
“What do you mean by that, Feargus Finlay?”
“The crew are going to blow up the catacombs.”
“I see.”
“Good thing you’re awake, right?”
“...”
I knew it was risky sending Rhydian ahead, and that he could use the opportunity to redirect and go after Everleigh, so to increase the odds he’d comply, I'd told him I was worried about Rhian, that Lidia had been lurking around lately, and that she’d taken a special interest in his daughter. All true, but did I love that I was using it to manipulate my sister’s grieving father? Not so much, mates, but it was what it was.
When I arrived in Oskari, The Workshop windows were blacked out, and Michael and Varis seemed to be alone at The House. Rhydian still didn’t know about Varis's condition, or that she’d been the one to kill his best friend. I considered telling him—I did. I thought about it all the way from the cabin to the village. I wondered: what would happen if I did? What would happen if I didn’t?
I wanted to trust Rhydian Sinclair. He was Rhian’s father, he was my parents’ friend, and he was part of the alliance. But the man took a pretty extreme position on the Anima, and I was surrounded by Anima I wanted to protect. Unfortunately, I wasn’t going to influence his opinion in a matter of a few days, especially in his state of mind.
It also occurred to me as I was running, that I might not want Rhydian along with me on my search for Everleigh. The reason for that was simple as: if she really was leaving a trail, would what’s at the end be something I’d want Rhydian seeing? I didn’t know, mates. I didn’t know. But I couldn’t take that chance. So, I decided on a change of plans.
Let’s see if I could make it work for us.
Rhydian and I staked out the blacked out workshop from an adjacent rooftop. It was just about dusk when Strauss approached. The church hadn’t been re-opened yet, so he had his evenings free in those days. He knocked on the door twice. Rhian answered, stretching her arm across the entryway. Adeline scurried up behind her, immediately blocking any other visual clearance into the workshop.
“Sinclair, can we talk?” he asked.
“Aye, sure.” Rhian was about to step outside when Strauss shook his head.
“We shouldn’t linger outside,” he said. “Can I come in?”
“No,” Adeline answered. “You cannot.”
“Why not?” Strauss asked.
“It’s quite embarrassing, actually,” Adeline said. “I was showing Enforcer Rhian all the undergarments I brought with me. Frilly underwear everywhere. Unless you don’t mind—?”
What? First of all, I didn’t need to hear that. That was why I hired an employee to spy on the lass. Second of all, she knew exactly how to make Strauss squirm, while limiting the odds of his asking further questions. I was mightily impressed. Third of all, I held back a laugh.
Strauss nodded slowly. “Out here’s fine.”
Adeline beamed a smile. The door slammed shut at the same moment she disappeared back into the house, and Rhian stepped outside.
They were lucky Strauss was Strauss.
“I miss you.” He rested his hand against her cheek a moment.
Rhydian side-eyed me.
“I miss you, too,” Rhian answered, and then they kissed. “Been keeping busy with Adeline and whatnot—you know, uh—”
“Underwear,” Strauss said.
Rhian nodded, entirely noncommittal. “Aye, it’s a whole rainbow of uncomfortable knickers in there, Strauss.”
Mates, my sister was a terrible liar, and that’s when I realized she must have been excluding Strauss from the plan to blow up the crypts. She was lucky Strauss was Strauss. He trusted her, and even if he were suspicious, he was respectful of her autonomy. But whatever they said next, they spoke too quietly for me to make out much more than a few words, and without context, it didn’t tell me much. They kissed again, Rhian went back inside, and Strauss returned to The House.
We followed him to make sure he got there safely.
Just outside the village, Rhydian and I tucked into a stretch of forest for a quick catch-up after all that.
“She’s in love with Andreas’s son,” he said. “What are the fucking odds.”
“Aye, but you haven’t got to worry. Strauss is a good egg.”
“He’s a defiant little arsehole who tried to kill me.”
“That doesn’t sound like him at all. When did he do that?”
“I tricked him, and then I provoked him.”
“All right, then… good for him?”
“Aye.”
It wasn’t irritation or anger in Rhydian’s tone. It was subtle, but it was pride. I was feeling pretty good about it, too.
The conversation died long enough for us each to take a piddle in the bushes.
When we reconvened, I spoke up first.
“Mate, I—I think I might know what happened to Emerich. I mean, I’m not sure, but—”
“Anima, obviously.”
“Aye, but, I might know which one. I’ve been suspecting Helena Varis. I don’t think the others know, and I can’t say anything, so—”
Rhydian crossed his arms. “What makes you think that?”
I explained a few incidents, for example when she beat up Rhian. How she spent most of her time inside, never seemed to eat anything, and how she had Michael in her clutches and seemed to enjoy stirring up drama between the crew. I knew Varis—not well, but enough to say she’d have never done any of that if she were in her right mind. It was easy enough to relay that to Rhydian.
“I didn’t want to say anything, because I wasn’t sure, but, mate, if I’m right, I reckon you ought to stay back here. Keep an eye on everyone while I’m away. Frankly, I was being selfish asking you to come along on a wild goose chase.”
“It’s not easy skirting the outside alone, lad. I get that.”
I nodded.
“Just so you understand: I’m gonna verify. And if you’re right—”
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Based on Zacharias’ reports, Varis rarely left The House, and was often in her and Michael’s room upstairs. The two were always together. I was reasonably sure Rhydian wouldn’t find the opportunity to take her out, but if he did, I trusted he’d be discreet about it. He wasn’t ready to reunite with his daughter yet.
“—I won’t hesitate to kill her.”
“I know.”
“All right.”
Days Until Lidia Dies: 2
Crew Placement:
Oskari ? Michael, Varis, Strauss, Bells, Adeline, Rhian, Rhydian
Estate ? Alexander
??? ? Everleigh
Without being able to get into Everleigh’s office, I didn’t have much else to go on. There was Zacharias’ theatre tip, and then there were the locks themselves. If they were Delilah’s inventions, how did Everleigh get them? I’d ask Delilah myself, but exposing myself to Avis and Matilda was out of the question. Especially now that I’d found and awakened Zack. The last time I was at The Studio, I kept blurting things out against my will.
Let’s face it: we all know Everleigh wasn’t dead, but at the time, there was the possibility I was chasing a ghost. For that reason, I had to set a reasonable limit to how much time I could spend looking, and I needed to make the best use of that time. But if anyone understood how to keep time, it was Zacharias Vonsinfonie, so if he was suggesting I check the theatre, then I’d have to practise my whistling on the way.
The spot Zack marked on my map was in southern Amalia, near enough to Verena, but far enough to be outside their jurisdiction and their right to kill me on sight. It was the middle of the night when I got there, and I found the old theatre at the end of the long pass.
It’d been built from stone, so it was in pretty good condition, and I kept an eye on the perimeter for just shy of an hour. No movement outside, and none inside as far as I could tell, though I was limited by not being able to see through walls.
One of the double doors was hanging from a single hinge, but I was able to squeeze through without causing any more damage. The inside was in similar disrepair, and it looked like someone had taken a blunt object to the ticket booths.
I had another quick look around the two-tiered atrium, spotting a platform to the upper level with a broken railing. There was a spot I liked, hidden enough behind a pillar, and I reckoned it would suit my next move perfectly. I picked up some quick speed, bounded off one of the busted ticket counters, and grabbed hold of the platform. After pulling myself up, I loaded up my crossbow with a silver bolt. If Everleigh were in there, I was about to make her—or any other Anima—very cranky.
I blew into the Anima whistle, positioned myself carefully, and waited.
Thirty-five seconds, thirty-seven, forty-two, fifty-one. The atrium was still, and it was quiet until it wasn't. Then there was nothing but the melody, echoing around me even though I knew, somehow, it was coming from inside me. The strings, piano, the flute. Nothing but the feeling of a thousand restful sleeps.
A burst of sedation.
When I opened my eyes, the first thing I noticed was the unusual hue to the room around me. I blinked a few times to clear my vision, and straightened out to have a look around. I’d been propped up against a desk in what appeared to be an office. The firelight from the candles flickered blue, and then pink, and Sebastian Vonsinfonie, wearing a dark blue suit, leaned against an empty bookcase. I grinned when I spotted him, rubbing my beard.
I could barely believe what I was seeing. “Did you really have to knock me out?”
“And did you really have to blow that awful whistle?”
I climbed to my feet and we met in the middle of the room for a tight squeeze. I patted his back a few times, he patted mine, and then he shook me by the shoulders.
“It’s so good to see you, Feargus Finlay. The others seem to believe you’re dead—well, to some degree they believe it. Rhian Sinclair certainly doesn’t.”
“Mate—it’s so good to see you, too.”
He flashed a winning smile. “Come, let’s get comfortable so we can catch up.”
Sebastian led me through the old theatre, down a long corridor, and through two more sets of double doors. We entered into the auditorium, and for a second—just a flash but I swear it happened, folks—I saw the room the way it used to be. The balconies draped in rich fabrics, every inch of the wood polished to a perfect shine. Rippled velvet curtains framed the massive stage—and then it was gone. Most of the chairs were collapsed, but we found a pair that, while crooked, were still usable. We had a sit.
“How was your trip?” I asked.
“Three dreadful days of debilitating seasickness followed by an honoured tour of the Verena jail cells. I’d say overall it was terrible, but thank you for asking.”
“What can I say? Should have come back with me when I asked.”
Sebastian smiled and checked my shoulder gently. “Rhian Sinclair and a frustratingly handsome Anima by the name of Alexander rescued me.”
“Aye, he’s a real looker. But wait, how’d you get jailed, mate? You’re Lemon Meringue Pie.”
“Still with the food-related problem?”
I nodded.
Sebastian shook his head before continuing, “So, as you know: I’d spent three days sick at sea, and by the time I arrived in Amalia, I was in a sorry state. I had to have my suit washed, I had to take a bath, and being so near to Verena, I thought I could stop in for a visit to my former home city.”
“Were you glamoured?”
“No. I simply looked like me, like a Partisan. Truth be told, I relish in the recognition from time to time. But I had no idea I wouldn’t be welcome.”
I chuckled. “Right, so—surprise. How’d they get you into a jail cell?”
“Let me tell you: one minute I was walking past the city gates, the locals gaping at me from a distance. I assumed they hadn’t seen a Partisan in some time, as it happens, and then, suddenly, I’m accosted from behind—stuck with a sharp sting in the side of my neck. Safe enough to say it was a syringe. But whatever the contents, it knocked me out cold because I woke up in a silver cell. I was there for nearly two weeks before I was rescued.”
That was an interesting tidbit, mates. Somewhere out there, there was a concoction that, if injected, could knock out a Partisan, or an Anima apparently. I’d hold that thought.
Next, I wondered how Rhian and Alexander knew to rescue ‘Vincent’ from jail, unless one of them ended up in jail. Most likely Rhian, and after considering what she might have gone through during that time, I was doubly relieved she was all right.
“Not the homecoming you were hoping for, I reckon.”
“I don’t know what I’m hoping for, Feargus Finlay. I swore I’d never return, and so far I’ve only been reminded why. Now Rhian Sinclair has enlisted my help in an ambitious plan.”
“Do you know the details?”
“But of course. She intends to have the Strachan runner lay and light explosives along the underground from the old schoolhouse to the crypts beneath Oskari. Meanwhile, with Alexander’s assistance, she plans to confront Lidia and shoot her in the heart with a silver bullet. I can’t stomach the violence, so I’m to play a Lidia decoy. My direction is to distract the uninvolved parties.”
“Michael and Strauss?”
“Precisely.”
I was happy to hear Rhian picked up what I dropped off when I gave her that pistol. It felt nice, mates, working on a plan with my sister again, even if she didn’t know it.
The decoy bit was a fun surprise, though.
Sebastian put his arm around my shoulders, and for a good half a minute, we sat staring at the stage. I’d have to bring it up eventually, so—
“Have you seen Everleigh yet?” I asked.
Sebastian shook his head. “Do you know where I can find her?”
“Well.”
Sebastian turned in toward me.
“She might be missing,” I said. “But it’s only been a few days, and I don’t actually think she’s in danger. I think she’s been leaving clues for me.”
“Why would she be doing that?”
“We’ve been working together,” I said.
“Working together?”
“Aye, we actually work together, but we’re also ‘working together’—keeping an eye on the crew among other things. I stumbled on this place when I was out looking for her.”
I wanted to tell him the truth, mates, that Zacharias had been the one to tell me about the theatre. But the food-related problem would just complicate things unnecessarily. I’d have to find another way to let him know I was living with his brother.
“What are the clues she’s left behind?”
From the pocket on the inside of my jacket, I pulled out the folded piece of paper with the song containing the whistle lock combination.
“She left this behind in her violin case, which she left behind at the brothel where we work. The song seems to correlate with the whistle locks she has sealing up her office.”
“Two simple sentences and yet I have so many questions. First of all, where did she get her talented hands on whistle locks? Delilah?”
I shrugged. “Working on figuring that out, too.”
Sebastian removed his arm from around my shoulders to unfold the paper. Within a short moment of reading the song, he smiled and shook his head. “The Verse of Victory. It was the first song we wrote together. Have you been able to bypass the locks?”
“No, I—” again, things were about to get awkward with the food-related problem, “—I can’t read music.”
“Well, I can. Take me to her office, Feargus Finlay—wherever that is. But first, tell me: why does she have an office?”
“She owns a lounge she hates.”
“That’s my little entrepreneur.”