chapter lll

Were inside the tree.

And that is the most ridiculous affirmation I have ever made. Once again, I'mfallowing him blindly through a cold corridor, making countless turns until I cannot tell my right from my left. He might add some extra ones just to mess with me. His steps have become alert once more, as if we were close to our destination. He then stops before a deep, greedy door.

I let my eyes adjust, studying the cramped room we'd entered. We're in a medical cabinet of some sort; even though the walls look old and are covered in flocks of moss and various vines, it is equipped fairly well, and it is also empty except for a bed, a huge shelf with medicine, and a desk. I have heard that plant deviants have the ability to fasten the healing of wounds and create any plant they desire. Which brings us to the only other person in here. A tall, slim figure sits bent at the desk with all sorts of ampoules and green-glass bottles. The delicate hands move with precision and minuteness, as if she'd done this a thousand times. Her wrist swirled the bottle, then she placed it on an open flame. She did the motion twice more. Then she rose, dusted her leather pants, and walked in the soft light given by the half-melted candle.

“Dark. That took an unusual amount of time, even for you.” She said she’s truly gorgeous, with sharp cheeks, dark tan, spotless skin, and two perfect green ovals for eyes that almost look like they are glowing with soft arched brows making a small frown. Sheshe seams annoyedbecause we've interrupted her work or because I'm a human inside her sacred workspace.

He is the first to speak.

"Yeah, I have an additional burden." I felt his gaze drift to me, then back at the woman, saying, “Now, allow me to clean up this blood before it stains.”

He said this while rushing out of the room, leaving the two of us alone.

“Blood doesn't stain black! ... Oh, why do I even bother?” She shouted after him. She looked back at me as if to check that I was truly here. “You must be the "burden." Her voice had a nice, soft accent. She sounds far more excited than she should, and I believe she was trying to make a joke.

"Actually, my name is Tarra." I stretch my hand out, the same hand I've been holding my stomach with for the past minutes, which would explain the wonderful amount of blood on it. She stares at me as if she'swondering if it's mine or if I was killing someone just now. I presume my blood color must be weird. She doesn't shake my hand, which is understandable; instead, she says, “It's a pleasure to meet you.”

“I hope I'm not being rude, but what kind of deviant are you?” Even if I know the answer, I hope she confirms her abilities. Since my pain has become increasingly worse, at this moment I would be happy with anyone who could do something about it.

"Plant, I'm a healer and all that , and by the way, the name's Valerian. I guess you’ve met Captain Serious.”

They mustbe friends, or as close as they can possibly be, since she can talk so freely about him.

“Yup...ah shoot....” I feel thewarmth of blood rushing down underneath my shirt.

Valerian's eyes are filled with alertness. “Are you all right?”

As she was trying to finish her question, he came back.

"Can't you see that she is bleeding all over my hardwood floor?" He asked, "You are a healer, so heal her or something!"

I finally look at my stomach, and I see half of a bade is still stuck in it. I hoped it didn't look as bad as it feels, but of course it does. I look like someone tried to make a kebab out of me and gave up halfway through.

"Well, what are you waiting for?! Pull it out!” He said.

"No, you idiot, if she does that, I'll bleed to death!" I screamed. Gods, is he even thinking?!

After my yelling, he sat quietly for a while and then spoke again. “Who has done this to you?" He demanded it in a much softer and kinder voice. The tone surprised me.

“Those deviants”. I answered that I was not really in the mood for talking.

He raised his eyebrow and said it in a much colder and more aggressive way.

“Well then, it seems like I have to do a little chit-chat with those deviants.”

He left in a hurry. His cloak moved graciously as he exited.

I turned to Valerian, who didn't seem surprised by his outburst. “Let me guess, he isn't going to speak with them.”

“Nope, by 'chit-chat, he means 'kill, torture, or both.” Her eyes drift back to my wound. “Now we need to deal with this.”

She gently removed the blade and stopped the bleeding. I'm glad she'sdoing it, because if I were stuck with him as my doctor, I'd choose death.

“I think with a couple more stitches, you are good to go.”

“Thanks Val.”

Darkness then entered the room. He sat on a chair, this time closer to me, and stared at me and at my bloody shirt. Well, that was fast; it couldn't have been more than a half hour since he left.

“Good. Now leave.” He told me.

No." There's No way in hell I'm leaving after all that.

“No?”

Val got up and put her utensils back on the desk, wiping her hands before looking at him.

“Dark, she has to rest and recover. So she has to stay”. ' Valerian winked at me.

"Fine, but don't get in my way." He rose and left again.

Where does he keep disappearing? I'm certain that he is not afraid of blood.

I look at my stomach; it's not pretty, but it's better, and with some rest and good disinfection, I'll be fine. I turn to Val. “Thank you.”

“For what? Patching you up, or getting you a room reservation?”

“Well, both. You did convince him to let me stay. And helped me.” I could have convinced him as well, but my way wouldn't be so nice or quick.

She leaned closer, her short hair escaping her bun and falling forward. “Let me tell you a secret: I'm the only one who actually cares about that idiot. I'm the oldest in here, and he's known me for a very long time.”

We spent well over an hour chatting about everything and nothing at all; she used magic to erase at least a bit of the pain. As we talked, I made sure to not give her any information that was too private or could put me at some sort of risk. Even though it is nice to meet a deviant who doesn't want me dead, I can never be too careful.

At some point I believe I dozed off, since now I'm in the room alone.

I get up and touch the candle—it is cold, so she must have left quite some time ago. I notice a clean, simple white shirt placed on a chair.

I look back at the one I'm wearing, half torn and covered with bood, and as I do, shame reddens my cheeks. I'm almost in my undergarments, so it must have been a funny picture: me yelling at a crime lord half undressing inside his own Hideout.

I have a true gift for making my existence more complicated each day.

I put the clean shirt on and winced at the pain the movement caused whatever spell Valeriandid it began to wear off.

I'm in desperate need of actual sleep, but I have no idea where I'm supposed to go.

All I can hear now is the sound of rain as it rapidly hits the tiny windows hidden within the arch supporting the roof.

Who knows? Maybe it would collide on top of me, and that'd be the end.

The corridor is only lit on one side, and the poor torches barely give off enough light for me to not stumble over my own feet. Since this place is still technically a tree, the floor has nodded roots breaking its surface, which make walking on top of them more difficult than it should be.

As I head forward, the corridor grows darker and darker. A soft click, and then

I almost fell down on my back when a door opened and a shape emerged from the shadows.

"Why are you wondering around my chamber?"

He gave up the cloak, but he was still dressed in his fancy clothes with a mask on.

He is exactly the man I want to see while I'm lost here in this dark, creepy place.

"First of all, I wasn't trying to get to your chamber, and second of all, the word 'chamber' is a bit outdated, don't you think?"

His stare is intense and slightly alarming.

"Fallow me."

He entered his 'chamber' once more, waiting for me to do the same.

"I think entering a criminal private room is not a good idea and could lower my chances of survival quite drastically."

Oh, I'm sorry. Would you prefer to spend your night in the cells? I'm sure the rats would enjoy the company."

I bet he is smiling, grinning, if fact.

"Maybe I'll slit your pretty neck while you sleep."

He turned, and even in the poor light, I could see him as he rolled his eyes. "That would be ineffective; are you coming?"

"I'll take the rats next time." I say as I pass him, entering the small space with no way out what so ever. After a long look, I state my verdict. "Well, this is dark."

“Oh my gods, that is hilarious.” He was obviously not amused.

Yeah, yeah, you’re sarcastic; I get it.

This is your room, right?"

"No, here is where I hide the corpses of my victims.” He rolled his eyes once more and looked at me. Yes, it is my room. I don’t have a spare room, so you will sleep here."

I look at the space. It was a dimly lit room with a nice leather sofa, a big book shelf with no dust on its covers, a cramped but expensive desk in the corner covered with maps and papers in all sorts of handwriting, and one black sheet bed. WAIT! ONE BED?!

“One bed?!” I shouted uncontrollably.

You know what I'll do to the rats.

“I wasn't expecting guests. You sleep on the floor.”

"Wow, what a gentleman!" I said it in a sarcastic tone. I honestly don'tunderstand how ladies are not hoarding this place.

He sat, and after rubbing his temples hard enough to make a hole in them, he spoke again.

"Fine, I'll take the sofa, but you're staying only for one night." He made sure to emphasize the word "one."

I looked at the bed, and it was perfectly intact—like no one had ever used it. I tossed my jacket on the sofa and sat on it. My body is melting into a sea of pillows and soft blankets.

As I was trying to go to sleep, something didn't feel right. I just couldn't sleep, no matter how hard I tried.

I took a glance at the whole room, and then I spotted a shadow. He wasn't asleep either. I don’t see how he could sleep dressed like that. Maybe he became an assassin due to the lack of oxygen caused by that mask.

I’m the first to speak. “I see you're a night owl.”

He groaned as he sat up.

“Why are you awake?”

“I can't sleep.”

“Really? I thought you just spoke in your sleep; actually, that would be better,” He said.

“Can we do something?”

He turned his back to me, placing his hand behind his head, since I have decided that his current attitude doesn't deserve a pillow.

“Yeah sleep.” Ha, as if he is going to fall asleep with a royal guard inside his bedroom.

“No.”

He got up and sat on the chair next to me; the motion only proved further that he is in fact as fresh as a daisy. “What do you want to do then?”

“Train.”

“You expect me to train you? Perhaps you forgot that I'm only letting you sleep here out of the kindness of my heart.

"You have a heart? I wouldn't have guessed it." According to my assumption, he looked almost constantly.

"Ah, but it is now too late to throw you with the rats. Apso, I don't even believe you can do magic in the first place."

My dad might have the magical abilities of a shoe, but I can do it; I'm sure of it.

“Oh come on! Just give it a try if you don't have a better idea." Before he got his chance to answer, I added, And if you say sleep, I'll kick your ***.”

“Ughh fine.” He said it as if he took my threat He said it as if he took my threat seriously: "Oh, this is going to be fun.

And we crept out. Like two children that stayed up past their bedtime. I don't remember the last time I slept like a normal human being. Perhaps if you are deviant, you automatically get insomnia.

The sky is a deep royal blue, and you can see the stars so well from here.

What the hell?! A dagger just flew near my head.

“Why are you trying to kill me?” Seriously, I'm going to lose it if I have another near-death experience today.

“If I wanted you dead, you would be dead because you wanted to train, so come on.”

I throw my hands up in the air. “Magic! I wanted to train in magic, not killing!”

At least some type of training that doesn't involve me possibly getting injured. My stomach still stings.

“So the boring kind, very well, come closer” He fixed his cloak.

I hesitate. I'm pretty sure my father can’t bring me back to life as godlike a doctor as he is, and I'msure not even Valerian could pull that off.

“I don’t bite.”

“I'm not sure about that.”

“Doyou want to learn or not?”

Only now do I walk towards him. What'sthe worstthat can happen? I don't need all my fingers after all.

"Fine, so what should I do?"

"Well, since I don't know what kind of deviant you are... You will try one of each spell, and the one that you can do is your type; we will then proceed from there, assuming you can do any of them.”

Im pretty sure I can do magic, thank you very much.

He’s now standing behind me.

“Put your hand in the air and stick two fingers out.”

A laugh escaped my mouth before I could contain it. “That didn't sound right.”

“Can you be serious?” he shouted.

Right I shouldn’t make a criminal lord mad for my own sake. Well, at least not too mad.

“Continue.” My smile faded.

“Thank you, and imagine a ball of energy. Got it?”

I move my arms, and I can feel a tinseling sensation like tiny needles poking me on the inside. Of course, magic had to feel weird. “Yeah...kinda...” I respond.

“OK, now make a circle with your hand... Think about a ball of fire and say, "Fireletro." ”

The spell sounds like an overly complicated one. Like what a fancy butler would say when his master is being a jerk.

“Fire what now?”

“Fireletro—yep, it doesn’t sound better the second time. Now focus on Tarra.

Somehow I managed to let the letters out, “Fireletro.”

An electric current went through all of my body, like a shock. It burned but also felt calm. I know I’m not sure about it either.

Then I smelled something burning. I looked to my left and shot.

"Well, you have fire magic for sure." He then said another word, Aquatilos.” I assume that is the spell for water.

Dark clothes weren't on fire any more. I didn't know he was a celestial (a deviant that can do all types of magic) until now. Of course I had my suspicions, but he did two different spells, and every deviant is supposed to only be able to do one type.

"Well, now I'm wet." Even in the night's darkness, I can tell he’s upset and probably wants to set my clothes on fire too.

“I wasn't aiming for you”. For once, I really meant it.

“This was my favorite cloak; it was ripped, stained with blood, lit on fire, and now it is very wet.” He was trying to get some of the water out of the fabric.

“Sorry.” I say, holding back a laugh. The famous killer was heartbroken by the destruction of his favorite accessory, and that’s something I’ll never forget.

“I think that was enough training for the day. I mean, morning or night? Go to the room.” He beganwalking in the opposite direction.

“You aren’t coming?”

He left without saying anything else. Something doesn't seem quite right to me; however, now I can burst out laughing.

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