Chapter Twelve
Sleep sucked. Sleep sucked hard, with great enthusiasm and impressive creativity. I’d always been prone to nightmares and assorted other issues with sleep, for as long as I could remember. I thought that probably made sense, all things considered. It wasn’t every night or anything, though there were times that it felt like it. But they were frequent, and I’d never really found anything that helped. I’d tried a wide array of medications when I was younger, along with every kind of meditation, sleep hygiene pattern, and lifehack I could come up with.
None of it had ever done much. The nightmares still happened, with about the same frequency, severity, and surrealism regardless of what interventions I had tried, until eventually I gave up on preventing them and focused more on just making the surrounding experiences tolerable, adding various sensory comforts. I mostly didn’t have those here, but Raincloud was helpful with that; an actual dog was often better for tactile comfort than a plush one.
But the nightmares themselves hadn’t gotten any better, and this was a bad one. It was dark, and I was lost, and there was something else in the darkness with me. I didn’t know what it was, and I had no idea where it was at all. But it was harrying me, sometimes just a menacing unseen presence, other times suddenly closing in and tearing at me with long, vicious claws.
I’d heard that you weren’t supposed to be able to feel pain in dreams, but apparently my subconscious was a prodigy, because it never seemed to have any difficulty. It hurt, and I was bleeding, hunted and alone in the dark, for what felt like days on end. My subconscious was also pretty good at the time dilation bit; I’d had nightmares that felt like they lasted weeks, packed into a single dream.
I was woken up not long before dawn by my phone, and I hadn’t really gotten much sleep, but I was not complaining about getting woken up. I wasn’t thrilled with the method, though. I wasn’t a fan of phone calls to begin with, much less waking up to one like this. And that feeling only grew, considerably, when I saw the number. I didn’t recognize it, but there were only so many plausible reasons for me to get a call from an unfamiliar number with a New York area code right now.
I hadn’t been expecting Silas to contact me tonight. It hadn’t even really crossed my mind that he might. Even if the flunkie I talked to had passed the message along immediately—which I doubted, even with the threat I’d included—it would take time for him to then reply to it. And Silas was a very busy vampire, one who had a lot of things to do. I had been fully expecting that he wouldn’t get to this until tomorrow night at the earliest.
But ready or not, I couldn’t ignore this call. It might register as an insult, and that was a terrible idea. So I swallowed a couple times, trying to get my throat and my language centers in touch with each other after the nightmare, and then answered it with a simple, “Hello?” I still sounded a bit thready, but there was no way around that; I didn’t have the time to fully recover from that dream before speaking.
“Miss Sugiyama, a pleasure.” It was Silas’s voice, dispelling any lingering hope this would be a minion. I had only heard it once before, but it was distinctive, crisp but with a dry, rasping tone. “I apologize for the delay. I would have answered sooner, but my employee took a while to give me your message.” His tone suggested he was serious about that apology. My anxiety grew further.
Silas might—and only might—be an ally. He wasn’t a friend, and he was dangerous. A response so quickly might be a very bad sign for me. Or a good one, but I didn’t trust my luck remotely that far.
“I’m surprised it would be that much of a priority,” I said, buying time to think more than anything.
“It’s an interesting situation,” he said, and I was vaguely impressed at how much every exchange was making me more nervous. The vampire was interested. I’d say god help me, but inviting the attention of one of those too would be an even worse idea than this one. “I imagine you contacted me for a reason, after all.”
“You owe me a favor,” I said. Possibly too blunt, but my mind just wasn’t working smoothly enough for niceties. And he struck me as someone who appreciated directness, anyway. “I’d like to call that marker in.”
“I expected as much,” Silas said. “You’ve been sitting on that favor for almost twenty years, you know.”
My grin felt tight and forced. I wasn’t sure why I was faking a smile even though no one could see it. Capinera was already up and out of the room when I woke up, and while the noise had woken Raincloud, she was more likely to feel my emotions directly via the link we shared than observe my expression anyway. “I’ve never needed it.”
“And now you do. So clearly something interesting is going on. I’m curious what changed.”
“There have been several attempts on my life recently. And I’ve been having a hard time addressing the attacker.”
Silas was quiet for a few moments. When the vampire did respond, he still sounded interested, but it had a more analytical tone now. “My capacity to help in that arena is limited. I don’t specialize in personal safety.”
This did not surprise me. As the joke about vampire bodyguards went, if vampires were good at keeping people alive, they wouldn’t have died themselves. That was a little disingenuous, and I was sure his own security was excellent, but I really hadn’t expected him to offer me much.
I had a good sense of what I needed, and I was pretty sure it was commensurate with what I’d done for him, or I wouldn’t have called to begin with. But it was the lingering shreds of the nightmare that let me put it into words, as a bunch of different ideas all snapped into place at once.
“Understood,” I said slowly, choosing those words carefully. “My request is relatively simple, though. I require the services of someone who is very good at hiding, who has no known relation to me, and who can reliably surveil a scene and tail an assassin following a failed attempt on my life. I’ll need them in Pittsburgh for about a week. The situation has some intrinsic danger, but I’ll attempt not to place them in undue risk.
His pause was longer than mine had been. “An interesting choice,” he said eventually. “And…yes, I think a reasonable request. I can send someone who meets those criteria, though it will take time. I wouldn’t expect her to arrive before Monday. You have her services, within reason, for a week.”
I hesitated, mostly because my voice wasn’t working very well. That was a rough nightmare even for me. Once I got it working again, I said, “Monday is fine.
“Good. And this balances the scale between us. Now, I believe I have some arrangements to make. Have a pleasant day.”
“I’d wish you the same,” I said dryly, “but I think it might be unrealistic.”
He laughed, dry and dead, and hung up.
I wasn’t getting back to sleep after that. In several ways, it was just not a thing that was going to be possible. So I grudgingly dragged myself out of Capinera’s bed, and got ready for the day.
There wasn’t a lot to get ready for. The problem was that now I actually was pinned down. Staying with Derek I’d been willing to go outside and do things. But the car bomb changed things a lot. I was relatively sure that the people with swords weren’t going to find me if I happened to go outside, and I had a sense of what to do in response.
The other assassin, though? Not so much. The methods used there had been much more calculated, they understood mortal technology quite well, and they had targeted me via Saori, so it was a sucker’s bet that they were monitoring my known contacts and locations. The Blackbird was too prominent, and I was too well-known there, for it not to come up on that list.
I was probably safe while I was in here. The wards were not a guarantee of safety, but they made an attack riskier, and the bomber didn’t seem like the type to take risks. They would wait. The maenads were impulsive enough to try their luck, but pretty unlikely to find me based on their approach so far. I was safe here.
But I was also certain that this building was being surveiled, and that safety was likely to evaporate the moment I left. I wasn’t planning on staying here forever, and if I stayed too long they’d give up on waiting for a better opportunity. But for at least the next few days, trips anywhere were something to be undertaken cautiously and for good reason.
I at least had the start of a plan now. It was still incomplete, and it was also dangerous, stupid, and insane, but it was there. Not only was I starting to have an idea of what I needed to do, having now spoken with Silas I even had a rough timeline. Not before Monday, he had said, and Silas struck me as the kind of person with whom that meant Monday exactly. He wasn’t the type to tolerate his minions being less than punctual.
It was currently very early Thursday morning. Roughly four nights until I had a vampire on retainer. Saori’s contact was supposed to show up before then. Probably tomorrow, so he would have a few days to work before the vampire arrived. That was good for me, I was pretty sure. I would only have Silas’s agent on hand for a short time. This mage might specialize in wards, but I imagined he would still need a bit of time to get things set up.
Raincloud was even more grudging about dragging herself upright than I was this morning, but she also wasn’t willing to be left out. So I ended up waiting for her to be actually conscious before I went out to see what Capinera was doing.
The answer, it turned out, was sweeping. The floor of the main room was already pretty damn clean, as far as I could tell. But she was sweeping it anyway, with a sort of quiet, patient contentment in her bearing.
Holy shit. She wasn’t even just up before me. She was already up and cleaning, at the business which she was the sole proprietress of, and the sun hadn’t even risen yet. I wasn’t sure I’d ever had that much in the way of industrious diligence.
“You didn’t get much sleep,” she commented to me as I walked out into the main room. She didn’t pause her sweeping.
“Neither did you,” I pointed out. I was pretty sure she was still awake when I fell asleep, and she was already up cleaning.
“Maybe. But I don’t need much.”
“Why is that, anyway?” I asked idly, wandering over and sitting on the edge of the stage. Raincloud sprawled across my lap almost before I’d sat down.
“I don’t know. Trying to make sense of magical inheritance patterns has driven wiser women than I to madness.” Capinera shrugged. “I’ve never needed much sleep. A few hours here and there, but nothing like as much as a human. It’s just…a part of what I am, of what I inherited from my father.”
I nodded. “Yeah, I can understand that.” Hell, it wasn’t like I could make sense of what I’d gotten, either. Some of it made sense, the electricity and bestial form were easy to explain by my mother being a raiju, but why could I talk to plants and smell the emotional echoes in a room? Hell if I knew.
“I imagine so, yes. Those born on the boundary between two worlds rarely lead simple lives.”
“Heh. True.” I was quiet for a few moments, the only sound in the room the steady swish of the broom over the concrete floor. Eventually, I said, “Sorry about the trouble. I didn’t mean to bring this kind of thing onto you.”
“You really do struggle with the idea that I care what happens to you, don’t you?” Capinera’s voice was interesting as she said this. It wasn’t accusatory at all, just an actual question.
I sighed. “Yeah, I guess I do. Though it’s not specific to you. I’m just…not used to thinking of myself that way, I guess. Haven’t really had all that many close friends in my life. And most of the ones I have had were there because they wanted something from me.” Life among the Yakuza, first running with their lackeys and pawns, and then with the actual members of the organization, had some good parts, some good experiences. Trusting, unconditional bonds of love or friendship hadn’t been among them, and my father was even worse.
“I will keep reminding you, then, until it sinks in.” Again, Capinera sounded entirely sincere. There was no teasing, no impatience. Just a serious, direct statement of intent. It was weirdly adorable, really. “Though in this case, I think you’re also overestimating the problems you’re causing me.”
“How’s that?”
She shrugged. Apparently she was satisfied that the floor was finally clean enough, because she set the broom aside and sat on the stage a short distance from me. I hadn’t noticed her grabbing the rapier, but it was there next to her, like it seemed to always be. “For one thing, assassination attempts are already something I have to be aware of. My father’s resources in this region are limited, but one of his servants does occasionally try something. For another, I find it unlikely that your assailant will want to entangle me in these attacks without good reason.”
I paused. “Why’s that? I am…not sure you’re powerful enough to make them nervous.” I’d seen Capinera fight once. She was undeniably skilled, and some of her talents were unusual enough that she could be pretty damn hard to defend against. But at the end of the day, she was close enough to human that a sufficiently large explosion would do the trick. It really didn’t matter how skilled she was at that point.
“Myself? No, not at all.” She shrugged. “But it would risk complications. It would risk making other enemies that are concerning in that way.”
“You mean Clíodhna?” That seemed pretty reasonable, on the whole. Nobody sane wanted to pick a fight with the queen of banshees.
“My godmother is one, yes,” Capinera agreed. “But also others. My father, for example, may not be as dangerous as she is, but he’s not far behind.”
I turned and stared at her. “Why would he be upset about it? Isn’t he trying to kill you himself?”
She shrugged again. “Yes and no. He sends assassins, but it’s as much pro forma as anything. They have orders to kill me, and I’m sure that if I allowed them to they would. But he knows perfectly well how unlikely they are to succeed. Doing this satisfies the requirements of proper form following my departure, while also ensuring I remember where I came from.” Capinera’s lips twitched into a faint smile. “A sane family might just send a letter. He sends knives.”
I was still just staring at her, and it took me a solid five seconds to put words together for a response. “Are you telling me,” I said eventually, “that he sends assassins after you as a form of greeting card?”
“Essentially, yes. I’m sure that he does feel genuinely slighted by me leaving, among other things. If I let them kill me they would. But if he truly wanted me dead he would do something that might work.”
I was still just…staring. “Wow. That family dynamic might be more fucked up than mine, and that’s saying things.”
Capinera laughed softly. “Thank you. In any case, even without knowing that, there’s always the chance that he would be upset he didn’t get to kill me himself. And there’s the rest of the Midnight Court to keep in mind, as well. It’s always hard to be certain of things with the Sidhe. I might be as estranged as I seem, or I might be playing some elaborate game and still deeply enmeshed.”
“That sounds maddening. Like, trying to navigate that society.”
She shrugged. “I suppose it’s like anything else. You get used to it. In any case, while this is not a perfect shield, I would expect it to suffice for a time. I suspect your attacker is likely not mortal, and they may be quite old. When you’ve seen centuries roll past, waiting a few days to attack a vulnerable point and avoid risking complications doesn’t mean much.”
“Makes sense.” It was the same thought I’d had about being here, really; attacking the Blackbird Cabaret despite the defenses on it was possible, but why risk it if you didn’t have to? I just hadn’t extended it to as abstract a range, which was actually an interesting novelty given that I was usually the one who was removed from concrete associations.
“So, on the whole, I doubt I need to do more than my standing precautions. This is not much trouble.” Capinera smiled. “Also, you are my friend and I would prefer that you be safe.”
I chuckled. Raincloud did, too, though hers was mental. “Fair. Alright, I’ll drop it. So what are you doing today?”
“There’s a show tonight to prepare for. Sand painting, I believe, which will…involve some cleanup afterwards, I think. I have no other plans.”
I paused. “That’s not doing much for yourself, is it? Like, I get that you find value in running this place. But…honestly, as your friend, I’m a little concerned. You need to take some time for yourself, too.”
She smiled a little wider, though it looked a little sad, now. “I do. I read quite a bit. Perhaps I’ll do that today.”
I wasn’t sure how, since it wasn’t like there was a lot of space for books here. But I ignored that; it wasn’t really all that relevant, anyway. “Still, I’m a little concerned. You’re already a good person, Capinera. You don’t have to spend so much of yourself on trying.”
“Am I? I’m not quite so sure.” She was quiet for a moment. “Sometimes I wonder whether it’s pointless. Trying to change, I mean. At times, it feels like a meaningless charade, like trying to change my own nature is a hopeless task.”
I frowned. “What makes you think that?”
She was quiet for a moment, then asked me, “Do you remember what we did in September?”
“Of course.” I wasn’t going to be forgetting any time soon, I was pretty sure.
“Part of me enjoyed it. The violence, the thrill of it.” Her voice was soft, almost hushed, and she wasn’t looking anywhere remotely close to my gaze.
I hesitated, then mentally shrugged and took the plunge. “Okay, uh, I’m just spitballing here, and feel free to tell me if I’m overstepping, but. Is that a bad thing?” I asked. I felt Raincloud’s attention focus a bit, and absently petted her neck in response.
Capinera did glance at me now. “Is it a bad thing to enjoy killing people?” she asked me. She sounded distinctly incredulous.
“Yeah. I mean, my moral compass is pretty shaky, and I’m biased given part of me enjoyed it too. And obviously I don’t know your situation, whether it would be the equivalent of a gateway drug or something. But in terms of that specific event?” I shrugged. “Not really seeing anything wrong. Not in that context.”
“What do you mean?”
“Well,” I said slowly, “do you think it was the right thing to do? Like, looking back, do you think that what we were doing out there was necessary?”
Capinera frowned a little. “I…suppose so, yes. Those people had to be stopped.”
“I agree. And even if you were to say that we should have tried not to use lethal force—which personally, given some of the shit they pulled, I’m dubious about that—but even if you do, I don’t think we really had any options for doing that. They were using lethal attacks against us as soon as they saw us, and I don’t think anyone there had a way to subdue them nonlethally without undue risk. Would you agree with that?”
“I…hm. Yes, I suppose I would.”
“Well then. The overall action was pretty much fine, I think. Killing the people who were only there because of a job was a little fucked, but again, didn’t really have other ways of dealing with it. We couldn’t have gotten out there otherwise. And half the time they shot first, on sight, so not really sure that nonlethal means were an option there either.” I sighed. That part I did feel a little bad about.
It wasn’t even so much that they’d just been there for a job; that was a choice they made when they got into the line of work, and frankly, if a mercenary didn’t feel like dying in combat was an acceptable professional risk, I wasn’t sure why they’d become a mercenary. But those people, their employer had basically sent them out to die with no idea what they were up against, just to tire us out a bit. That was kinda fucked up, a betrayal of sorts, and that part I did feel bad about. The rest, not so much.
Capinera nodded slowly. “Yes. I don’t know how else it could have been resolved.”
“Well then.” My shrug this time felt apologetic. “Not sure how you were doing anything wrong. You were carrying out a necessary action for reasons that were grounded in prosocial thought. And, hell, look at what happened to the people out there.” I laughed. “You were, like, the best option they had. I saw what happened to the people you killed. One quick thrust, every time. They didn’t suffer at all.”
Capinera looked away from me again. “That…was not driven by mercy. Not as such.”
I shrugged. “Sure. But I promise most of them wouldn’t care. They’d just know they died quickly and cleanly. Compare that to, say, the werewolves eviscerating someone and leaving them to bleed to death? Saori doing her death-of-a-thousand-cuts thing? Hell, I’m basically a ball of knives crossed with a taser and Melissa peeled someone open from the inside while he suffocated slowly, so, you know. Pretty sure you were the best-case scenario for those guys.”
“Hm.” Capinera was quiet for a few moments. “I suppose you have a point. But it still feels wrong to find pleasure in it.”
“Ah, see, you’re falling into the trap the Kantians do, there. You don’t have to hate doing something for it to be moral. If both action and intention are ethically sound, I don’t think it really matters how you feel during the process. I don’t think it was wrong for me to enjoy it, either.”
I chuckled at the sudden mental image from Raincloud of how perturbed she would be, were I to hate giving her a steak as a reward for noticing the bomb. I wasn’t sure that was really an accurate comparison point—given the steak in question had been stolen, it seemed like a bit of a stretch to use it as a benchmark for morality—but it was a very funny image.
“This is true,” Capinera admitted. “But it seems a very slippery slope. It would be very easy to start doing those things for increasingly poor reasons without realizing it, I think.”
“Maybe so.” I shrugged. “Like I said, I don’t know if this is the equivalent of a gateway drug. And I’m fairly biased, given I thought parts of it were fun myself. But I just…worry that you’re pushing yourself too hard, I suppose. And like you mentioned, you might not be able to change this part of your nature, sometimes that’s just how it goes. But you can choose how you express it, and sometimes harm reduction is a better idea than trying to prevent something completely.” I smiled a little. “I am your friend, after all, and I’d rather you not break yourself trying to conform to an impossible ideal.”
She tried not to smile at that. But her eyes betrayed her; they were too expressive to fully mask the gleam of amusement. “Noted,” she said. “I will consider it. And…thank you.”