Chapter Text
THE PRICE OF TRUST
00- Slippery Tiles, Strange Cats and Other Misfortunes
It was raining. Or maybe pouring was a more fitting term for the horrible weather that for more than a week had besieged the City like a stubborn curse, chasing even the most work-obsessed guards and beggars out of the muddy roads. And even after the rain had calmed down, gusts of icy wind swept through the dark deserted streets, clawing at soaked flags and rotting leaves alike like a hungry howling beast.
It was weather fit only for thieves, mourners and ghosts.
And despite the pounding rain, Garrett was out on a job. A very important and well paid one. in fact, but this moment he could have cheerfully drowned the committant in one of the omnipresent puddles. He slithered across the slippery roof tiles, clinging to each architectural oddity for dear life, feeling much like a pathetic cat stuck in a tree. Just keeping his balance as the unpredictable gusts of wind tugged mercilessly at his cloak was a real challenge, but he had no choice if he wanted to make it back alive and still intact. Cuts and bruises were part of the job but smashing into the street? No thanks.
During his long – and quite brilliant – career, people had many times mistaken him for a spirit and made up legends and rumors about the graceful shadow in the dark. Of course his ego would bask in these rumors, but right now he felt more like a soaked, cold and miserable plaything for the wind than a legend. Only human, he was painfully aware of his precarious position, and afraid he might meet a painful death at any moment.
One slightly mistaken step and a particularly vicious gust of wind sent him toppling down onto a filthy market tent. He slid helplessly across the sodden fabric, falling right into a barrel brimming with rainwater. He let out a small surprised – and more than a bit pained – sound, landing with a mighty splash that would have alerted any guard in the district crazy enough to patrol in this awful weather.
The water was freezing and stank of rotting things better left unnamed. The roof tiles he had slipped on had been hard as rocks, and already an unpleasant prospect by themselves. But with this damned rain falling in his eyes and the constant risk of getting caught – or worse – this was getting close to a nightmare for him. And he was all too familiar with nightmares.
Nightmare or not, he had to get out of this barrel and quickly, but the big question was: how ? Or better, how without waking the whole district – again?
I need someone to watch out for guards while I get out of this damned barrel, he thought somewhat frantically. And getting back to the Clock Tower would be nice too , he added, looking up at the distant black silhouette half hidden by what remained of the destroyed market tent.
“Enchantresse,” he called quietly to the black cat perched on a crate nearby. Enchantresse hopped down to his side in an heartbeat. “Take to the alleys and watch out for guards,” he ordered. “If someone comes—”
If someone comes, then what? Garrett scowled, furious with his own carelessness. It had been a very stupid mistake to not think of a second signal that doesn’t involve meowing for when silence is vital – one only an arrogant recruit could make! What’s done is done, he sighed deeply, feeling the cold water quickly seeping through the layer of leather and right to his skin. Now I have to get out of this damned barrel before I freeze into a block.
More easily said than done, he hissed quietly. Heaving himself out of the water bit by bit careful not to make the water slosh or worse the whole barrel topple over. After several painfully long minutes of awkward heaving and pushing, he was finally free. Now I can give to the term freezing your ass off a whole new meaning, he thought with a mix of sarcasm and indignation for the embarrassing situation he so stupidly got into and he would have laugh -or at least slightly smirk under his mask- if someone had told him something like that could happen,but it had. Why was it taking so damn long to get some feeling back on my legs?
He was ready for simply give up and lay there until spring when he spotted a black shape walking calmly toward him. At least Enchantresse is back, he thought relieved his feline-partner had found no trouble.
The cat found a small patch of not so muddy street to sit on and cocked her head in that odd clearly worried way of her staring right into his human friend’s eyes like a fretting mother
“Don’t worry, Fleabag,” He breathed out to reassure more himself than the cat “I’m fine… just took a bit of a fall … nothing broken, I think.”
**Bruised and battered of course, he added trying to get up, but still very much alive.
After a long and painful struggle to get his half-frozen arms and legs to cooperate, he was back on his feet again, still leaning heavily on the filthy wall for support but it was a start.
And now I have to get back to the highways as soon as I can , he thought looking frantically up and down the street: some windows were alight and he could figure out from the half hidden shadows some good citizen had got curious. Not good.
Ignoring the stabs of pain through his ribs and head, he crawled into a dark space between some half broken crates and some stocked barrels -he was really starting to hate barrels- to hide until those curious bastards were back to their own business. Another vicious gust of wind made him shiver violently and he hugged himself to warm up at least a bit I’m going to catch my death out there , was his detached consideration, not a complaint of course: he had an interesting life after all, just a bit short, no regrets but he had hoped in a more dignified way to part from this world than freeze to death like the lowest of beggars
As if sensing his friend’s gloomy thoughts, Enchantresse hopped lightly on Garrett’s shoulder draping herself around his neck like a living scarf to comfort him: that cat was a real bother sometimes but it was in moments like these that reminded him of how lonely his life would have been without his loyal furred partner.
He smiled weakly at the cat “Had worse, don’t worry” he just wanted to sound alright enough for not end up eating birds -and even a particularly fat and disgusting rat as long as his forearm- until Enchantresse deems him well enough to eat human food again “Just catching my breath” but his voice had started to sound weaker than usual and his head had started to feel heavy.
Taking a deep breath he pulled himself up and started to check on his gear: clothes, climbing corset and bow were obviously soaked, a couple of arrows -a water one and his only rope one- got broken in the fall, the mask and necklace for his committant safely tucked away in a waterproof bag in perfect condition but the journal he had took for himself was completely soaked and impossible to read.
He still had a lot of work to do back at home, but it went better than he expected.
But now he had another problem: how could he climb up to the highways in this state and without a rope arrow? The cold - and maybe a couple of bumps in the wrong places- was starting to affect him seriously making his steps wobbly and unsure and it was really too risky to climb a slippery wall like this.
Well, so he had to sneak from a shadow to another all the way back to the Clock Tower, a time-consuming task he had to perform even better than usual since he wasn’t sure of the outcome of a fight, should he get into one.
The way back was, thanks to whatever god or demon he didn’t know, uneventful beside the way too frequent coughing fits that at every sudden move took ahold of his already battered body and it was a miracle the loud noises hadn’t got him spotted by a guard taking shelter from the weather under a porch.
This one’s too close, he hissed in pain when a too sudden move sent a white-hot bolt of agony through his mistreated body nearly making him lose his hold on his way up to the tower. He took a deep calming breath to block out the pain long enough to reach safety and continued to climb up slow and unsure like a drunken spider and he realized that this little adventure had affected him more than he initially thought. And taking a bath in a filthy barrel fully clothed and in the middle of november hadn’t helped.. I’m getting sick, he sighed annoyed at the stupidity of the whole situation: getting hurt in a fight, he could understand, being nearly killed by a magical stone of unknown origins too... but this! The whole thing sounded like an awful joke, for goodness’ sake!
Stupidity is the most effective weapon indeed, he thought with a bitter humorless laugh that instantly turned into another horrible coughing fit.
Enchantresse stayed by his thief’s side all the time making soft encouraging meows, instead of climbing ahead up to the top of the tower like a miniature panther and that meant a whole lot of unpleasant things: Garret knew how his feline friend loved to do that sort of little victory show at the end of a successful mission that she gave up only when things got very bad for her human. Like that night when I got caught and beaten black and blue with a broom by that kitchen maid… that one had been fun!
After what seemed like hours of climbing and coughing, Garrett finally stumbled into his hideout exhausted like he’d never been in his whole life, freezing and burning at the same time - A fever, wonderful! - and heavy as if someone had loaded him down with rocks. He clumsily got rid of the already uncomfortable corset, then he took off the rest of his clothes leaving them in a soaked heap and weakly crawled into bed burying himself in the deliciously warm blankets and instantly falling asleep.
He dreamed of never-ending dark halls, ghostly blue lights just out of reach and voices screaming his name. Everything was so confused, the sounds distorted as if underwater and he felt so lost and frightened, he only wanted to curl up and die. But he had to keep going. Things were after him, deformed shadows right out of a freak show and he had to run, always run but he had nowhere to go in that alien world.
And suddenly, pain. They had caught him! Let me go! They are biting and clawing and it hurts so much! Please! They are yelling and the words of hate turns into growls of hungry beasts. I’ll be good! I promise! He looks down at his body and sees the shadows feasting on him. Stop! He screams and writhes trying desperately to shake those things off. Help! But there’s no one here, only the shadows. Help me! It hurts! They continues and he begs to be killed, to make it quick but death never comes. Make it stop! I want to die… please… let me die…
He’s crying, hot tears running down his black-streaked cheeks, his breath coming out in short quick gasping sounds and his heart… where is his poor little heart? The shadows had took it to turn into a corrupted thing like them. I want it back... it’s mine…
But they’re going to keep it for themselves, to hide it where they crawl when the light will come. What’s your… is mine…
Why does it sounds familiar? What’s going on? Why is everything so dark? Why the pain? Why…?
The first thing Garret felt, even before being fully awake, was pain -real one this time- an energy-draining ache was loading his whole body down as if the whole City was crushing him and there’s something pulling at his hair quite hard. He cracks one eye open to meet black fur and golden eyes shining with almost human concern “‘Tresse” he sighed tiredly.
Of course the cat has used her favorite wake up call - pawing at his face gently and then pulling viciously at his hair to the point of leaving a mark if she got annoyed- to bring him back to the world of the livings.
The cat purred happily and pawed him again, very lightly this time “Good day to you too…” Gods, his voice was terrible and his breath even worse, weak and with a slight wet sound that he didn’t like at all. ‘Tresse hopped elegantly on his chest at his first weak attempt to sit up “I know, little witch, I’m sick” he wheezed out in between another awful coughing fit.
He turned his head to look out of the window: it was still raining, the wind howling like a cursed thing. A bright blade-like lightning crossed the still dark sky and he buried his head into the pillow to block out the offending light: his head was killing him and the damn weather was making things even worse. “Oh please” he groaned when a clap of thunder followed the blinding light, then another one, and again until everything blurred together into a confusion of noise - thunders, heavy running steps or the rumble of the whole City collapsing on his head he couldn’t tell- pain - real and dreamed- and light - the ghostly glow of a forgotten relic, the mesmerizing glimmer of tempting treasures and the blinding brightness of a burning sky.
The next time Garrett woke it was almost daytime and the storm was still raging on, violent and vicious. He rubbed a hand over his face tiredly and he found it blackened with smudged kohl and wet with tears of fear and pain. Since the so-called Primal incident he was plagued by horrible nightmares that got even worse when fever took hold of his body. It was almost three years, but it still frightened him how in those moments he lost control of his body and mind.
Life had harshly taught him that stay in control meant stay alive and the mere thought of those visions coming while climbing a building or running from guards were the stuff of his non Primal-involved nightmares. And still having the damn thing in his eye wouldn’t help at all.
But he preferred to not dwell in those thoughts right now, or better, he hadn’t the strength to.
He was so tired and weak but he couldn’t let this sickness keep him from ending a job: the mask and necklace still needed to find a new owner after all and his gear still needed to be meticulously cleaned, not to mention the mess he had left behind few hours ago.
It had always bothered him to leave things unfinished, right from the start: he knew too well that leaving loosened threads was like running around with a rope bound to his chest for everyone to grab and pull. A danger at the best and suicidal move at the worst.
So no loosened threads for him. Never.
He weakly tried to crawl out of bed but even the most fleeble attempt to lift his body off the mattress made his head spin violently and his vision blur at the edges. He collapsed back on the soft bed, eyes tightly closed and drenched in cold sweat Damn this all , he hissed quietly when the dizziness has passed, I have to get out of this cursed bed.
So he tried again and almost passed out for real this time but it didn’t stop him from trying again, He hadn’t become Master Thief out of sheer luck and charm - he had the charm of a rock and the luck of a ghost- after all and when it came to his work he had always been stubborn and meticulous to paranoy. A little cold had never stopped him from completing a mission and never will.
So spent the next half hour stubbornly pushing at his limits just to sit up until his body had finally enough and everything went black.
When he opened his eyes again he found everything still dark: at first he believed himself blind all of a sudden and that made him panicking quite a bit, then he realized the supposed darkness felt warm, soft and kind of furry.
He would have laugh if he weren’t on the verge of passing out again “‘Tresse” he breathed out through clenched teeth “get your damned tail off of my face.”
The cat, obviously happy to find his human still alive, flicked her fluffy tail and pulled at Garrett’s hair gently then lightly hopped down and made herself comfortable on his friend’s chest. And stared at him as if daring him to disobey again “Come on, human kitten” the feline’s sharp golden eyes seemed to say “do something stupid”
This cat’s so strange sometimes, he mused tiredly, like she believes herself my mother or something… he shook his head, immediately regretting it I’m making no sense. She’s just a cat and I’m just too sick to think rationally.
His thoughts were chasing each other like drunken fireflies, making him feel incredibly tired and confused. He only wanted to sleep.
Before falling into blackness again, he glimpsed an heavily robed ghost-like figure standing right in front of the window. The ghost - or vision?- lifted its head and stared straight at him, pale icy blue eyes shining from the dark depths of its hood.
He blinked furiously a couple of times and the figure was gone in a small whisp of smoke Am I going insane? he asks himself with a small humorless smile Probably… but he did no longer care.
He finds himself in a strange place, a white city - or at least there are imposing stainless buildings- but the strange place was too empty for real people to live in.
The sky is painfully bright and cloudless, the sun burning high and hot like he’d never felt in his whole life.
He gazes nervously around, searching frantically for a place to hide but there’s nothing, no crates or barrels just a marble statue in the middle of the plaza.
He feels vulnerable and somewhat naked in this exposes position: the shadows had always been like a safety blanket for him. protecting him from prying eyes but now they are gone.
His heart is beating wildly in his chest, his breath short without even running.
He wants to bolt, to leave this unnaturally bright city but he’s glued on the spot, unable to move and it’s frightening. He’s a sitting duck ready to be taken down.
He closes his eyes wishing only to be able to move and when he reopens them night has suddenly fallen and it’s even worse.
The white buildings stood out like blades on a battlefield, the statues distorted by shadows that shouldn’t be there. And it’s hot, terribly, unnaturally hot.
His head is spinning and he blinks frantically to shake the awful sensation off, but it only gets worse. Gods, what’s happening to me? He’s wobbling dangerously like a tower about to fall and he couldn’t properly dodge the thing leaping at him.
A white-hot blast of pain shoots through his chest stealing his breath; he looks down, eyes impossibly wide with agony, a sees a blade - not just a blade, his mind informs him, but Erin’s Claw- buried horribly deep in his flesh like the talons of a bird of prey. No sounds escapes his lips as he falls limp like a broken doll, crimson blooming on his chest.
Garret woke up with a sudden start, a scream trapped in his raw throat, Calm down , he forced himself to even out his breath, It’s just a dream… a nightmare, he corrected himself, another one. Nothing new.
But he had to look down at his bare chest and make sure the pale skin was still intact to completely relax. “I won’t fall asleep anytime soon if I can help it” he glared down at the still-staring cat “and you won’t change my mind, ‘Tresse”
It was supposed to be intimidating, and it would have been if not for the repeated coughing fits and violent shivering. He curled up on his side burying himself in the blankets to keep the dreary cold at bay.
Enchantresse, seeing his friend finally settled enough, hopped down from the mattress and squeezed herself into the crevices between the massive gears searching for something that would make his human better.