Your enemies often understand your character before you do—and sometimes, that's when they stop being your enemies.
By the way, Lordling had proven to be quite patient, a surprisingly good host. Sometimes we'd sit down for tea—and cocoa—and he'd talk, spinning tales from a time long before mine. Occasionally, he even tried to teach me.
I've always been the kind of person who learns easily, but I can't stand being taught. Lordling, naturally, was unimpressed. He held a firm belief that fools should never talk back but should instead embrace the chance to improve.
"Why do we have to be here?" I grumbled, frustrated by the confining glass room. I preferred my thoughts to remain hidden, buried deep within my mind.
"Only fools would attempt to destroy your body," he replied. "Those with any sense would take it over instead."
I was mulling over his cryptic words when he continued.
"You're fortunate you haven't encountered a mage yet. We have a rather impolite habit of wandering into the minds of others," he explained. "Being mixed-blood has its perks—most of which you haven't even begun to notice. This body of yours is a treasure, but only a well-honed mind can protect it."
"And how am I supposed to do that?" I asked, exasperated.
When it comes to a determined Lordling, arguing is a futile effort. He didn't answer immediately. Pindur often preferred to reveal the solution only after it became obvious, giving me a chance to discover it myself.
"Any idea why we're in this room?" he asked, his tone pointed. I shook my head.
"Probably, even after a hundred years of trying, you wouldn't be able to breach my mind," he said smugly. "In any case, I see a pressing need to provide you with a proper example."
"What do I have to do?"
The little lord's lips curled into a faint smile. He enjoyed things unfolding as he'd planned.
"Just let me guide your consciousness," he instructed, stepping closer and touching our foreheads together. "Since you're conscious, it's more difficult for me to lead you."
"Close your eyes," he said softly. "Focus on my voice. Proper breathing is crucial. Inhale deeply, hold it as long as you're comfortable, then exhale slowly. Empty your mind. Let go of your thoughts—they are unnecessary weight."
His voice grew duller, fading into the background, until I could no longer hear him. Silence enveloped me, a cocoon of darkness. For a few moments, there was nothing—only a void. Then his voice returned, clear and steady.
"You may open your eyes now," he said.
As if compelled, my eyes snapped open.
I was sitting cross-legged in a grassy meadow. The air carried the fresh scent of rain, and the grass beneath me was damp, water pooling in small puddles. Oddly, the liquid was red, like freshly spilled blood.
Not far off stood trees, their roots black and barren, with ravens perched on twisted branches, their eyes glinting like needles. The sun's warmth seemed to touch my skin, yet everything felt subtly off. Lordling's mind was a mirror of reality, but distorted—everything was upside down.
I hung from the grass toward the sky, as if an unseen force greater than gravity held me there. Lordling stood in front of me, utterly unperturbed by the inverted world.
There was another odd sensation: when I tried to turn toward him, my body shifted away instead.
"It's my natural defense," he declared, a glint of pride in his eyes. "It confuses your senses."
He paused for a moment, and then the world shifted abruptly around me. The sudden change was so jarring, it left me dizzy.
"Sorry," he said, though the fleeting smile tugging at his lips betrayed his satisfaction.
"Over there," he gestured with a tilt of his head behind me, prompting me to turn, "is the manifestation of my memory."
The tree was colossal, its sheer size forcing me to crane my neck to take in its full grandeur. Unlike the others, this one was truly alive. Its black branches were heavy with blood-red leaves that rustled sharply in the breeze, creating an almost metallic whisper.
"Each leaf symbolizes a memory," he explained, his voice carrying a hint of challenge. "I want you to have one."
I cast Lordling a dubious glance, but after a beat of hesitation, I stepped toward the tree. I halted just an arm's length away, marveling at its immense trunk, which was wider than a bus. The bark was cracked, textured in a way that seemed almost designed for climbing.
Summoning my resolve, I began my ascent. After several minutes of climbing, I reached the first branch. Clutching it tightly, I stretched out for one of the leaves. Just as my fingers brushed against it, the bark vanished beneath my grip, and I plunged downward.
I hit the ground with a resounding thud, sprawled on the grass. If my physical body had experienced the fall, I was certain every part of me would be screaming in pain.
Lordling sat nearby, sipping tea with a serene air, as though this were a routine spectacle.
"Giving up already?" he grinned, the amusement dancing in his eyes.
"Hell no!" I shot back, springing to my feet and setting off in a new direction.
His chuckle followed me, light and carefree.
Despite my determination, I didn't manage to claim a single leaf. Each time I reached for a branch, it seemed to slip away at the last moment, eluding my grasp as if the tree itself was playing a trick.
I refrained from asking Lordling how to succeed. Perhaps he would have given me an answer, or perhaps not. Stubbornness was a trait I wore proudly, and I resolved to uncover the secret on my own.
Of course, Lordling was thoroughly entertained, which is precisely why I woke up grumpier than usual.
I looked around and realized I was in the garden. Lazy August days always had a way of making me drowsy. Rolling onto my belly, I bent over and reached into my bag of sunflower seeds.
The sun's languid light shimmered on the raven's feathers as it edged closer to my stash. It was the same bold bird that had tried to steal my seeds yesterday. This time, it seemed to have enlisted a friend. I wasn't sure why these critters had been swarming me lately, but they were starting to get on my nerves.
As I scanned the tree I was resting under, a thought flitted through my mind: how could I get a leaf? I watched the tree intently, unmoving, save for the occasional swatting at the ravens when they ventured too near my seeds.
I sighed deeply. Suddenly, a gust of wind swept through, sending the tree's crown into a graceful dance. Leaves spiraled downward, and one landed delicately on my forehead.
I plucked the leaf and twirled it between my fingers, a small smile tugging at my lips. Jumping up, I snatched my seeds just in time, thwarting the birds' ambitions once again.
In the kitchen, Alex was bustling around, the faint clatter of utensils accompanying the rich aroma of whatever he was cooking.
"Hey, Alex," I said, settling into a chair. "How would you get a leaf from a tree you can't climb?"
He looked up, puzzled. His brow furrowed so deeply, I half-expected some profound revelation.
"I'd wait until one fell on its own?" he replied, his tone more questioning than confident.
"And what if it never falls?" I pressed.
"Leaves fall in autumn," he said, stirring the pot before giving me a curious glance. "But why does it matter? Is this a riddle?"
"Sort of," I shrugged.
He hummed thoughtfully as he resumed cooking.
"I got a call," he announced after a moment.
"And?" I prompted.
"It was Zénó from the Goblin," he said. "He couldn't reach you or Hajnal, so he called me."
"What's the trouble?" I asked, already feeling the weight of the news.
"Not sure yet," he mused. "But he mentioned there's been a change of bosses at Behemoth."
"What?" I asked, surprised.
"I don't know the details," he admitted. "Neither does Zénó."
"Great," I muttered.
"Be on your guard tonight," Alex added. "The new boss might try to claim this territory first."
"You don't have to tell me twice," I replied.
He nodded, his expression serious.
The extra plate on the table unsettled me. Even though Elsie was confined to strict rest in Alex's bed, her mere presence in my house was enough to disturb me. I couldn't quite fathom what compelled me to let her stay, but she hadn't left since, and I was beginning to regret ever offering her a place.
Alex gathered the meal onto a tray and marched upstairs to his room. His small, placating smile as he passed by was a clear sign that I looked as frustrated as I felt about the situation.
I wanted to bang my head against the table, but instead, I grabbed the damn spoon and started eating, letting my irritation simmer just beneath the surface.
(...)
Hajnal didn't take the news well. I wasn't thrilled either, but her already volatile mood plummeted even further.
For decades, my charming boss had been at war with the local pub mafia, a feud that had become almost legendary. It all started because Hajnal, being the stubborn woman she was, refused to give in. The Behemoth didn't take kindly to her rejection of their "protection" and decided to destroy the pub.
I met Hajnal when things were at their worst and did her a small favor. The boss begrudgingly accepted that the pub was out of his reach—after I threw him through the pub's closed window. He tried again, sending his men to convince her. They ended up in the hospital instead. I didn't kill them, of course, just made sure they understood the consequences.
With a new gang leader in town, unless he's one of the ones whose ribs I broke, we were back to square one.
The trouble arrived around eight o'clock. Hajnal stood in the doorway, staring down the thugs. Most people would have been terrified, but not my dear boss—she was always dangerously brave. One of the guys took a step forward, getting bolder with each move.
"One more step," I warned, and he stopped.
All eyes turned to me, though Hajnal kept scrutinizing the bandits. Their surprised, confused expressions told me they hadn't heard of me—or didn't believe the rumors.
Hajnal gave them a withering look, then stepped past me to return behind the bar. "I'll leave it up to you," she said.
The guy raised his foot, but I spoke again.
"That's the line that separates me from tearing you to shreds," I said with cold calm. "Do you really want to cross it?"
He stepped over—and flew backward the next moment.
The scuffle that followed was more an execution than a fight. I left two of the five somewhat intact, enough to drag their friends to the hospital. A couple of broken ribs for one, a shattered hand for the other. They got off easy compared to the rest.
"What are you waiting for?" I raised an eyebrow. "Scram."
I waved them off, and when they finally limped away, I returned inside, feeling satisfied. Hajnal announced, "I'm leaving early today. You're closing."
"Great," I grimaced. "Why? Another date?"
It was meant as a joke, but her silence hit the mark. I didn't like that.
"I thought you were bored with that vampire," I said, perhaps sounding more sour than intended.
"Where did you get that idea?" she frowned.
"You didn't mention him," I shrugged. "Didn't seem serious."
She shrugged. We served the few patrons milling around the bar in silence.
"What was his name again?" I asked casually.
She slammed the towel down. "Quit snooping!"
"Who said I was snooping?" I asked, feigning innocence.
She muttered something under her breath, wiping the counter with unnecessary force. We didn't talk much after that. She wasn't in the mood, and I had nothing to say.
Around eleven, she emerged from her office, dressed in dark, form-fitting clothes and her signature red coat. Her hair was pinned up, and red lipstick completed her usual makeup. She slung her bag over her shoulder, her piercing eyes locking onto mine.
Fine, no, I won't follow you. No, I won't send anyone else. No, I won't make this guy's life hell. Not yet, I thought.
She raised a brow, and I sighed. Stepping from behind the counter, I gave her a fleeting kiss on the cheek. She was surprised, but I just smiled.
"You look stunning," I said, and her always-piercing look softened.
I took her hand and gave it a gentle squeeze. "Be careful, okay?"
"I'm always careful," she replied, heading for the door. But before leaving, she paused. "Ervin Mándy," she said and left the pub behind.
I made a few phone calls before closing. Ervin Mándy was clean—or so it seemed. It reassured me a little, though I wasn't entirely convinced. I decided to have a chat with dear Ervin soon to find out his true intentions.
Around two o'clock, after locking up and tidying the place, I stepped out into the freezing night for a well-earned cigarette. Leaning against the door, I pulled out my pack, ready to end the day.
"You're closing alone," he announced, stepping from the shadows. "How unusual."
I wasn't startled by his appearance—I had sensed him lurking nearby from the moment I stepped out. My fingers searched my pockets for a lighter, but came up empty.
"Got a light?" I asked, careful not to let the cigarette slip from my lips.
He produced a black lighter, its surface adorned with a provocative image of a naked woman. I raised an eyebrow at the design, prompting a sly grin from him. With a flick, I ignited my cigarette. As the flame caught, I noticed he had already pulled a cigarette from his own pocket, lighting it with a practiced ease. We smoked in shared silence, the tendrils of smoke curling lazily between us.
Rada had once been a fresh recruit in the Behemoth. Our initial meeting ended with him receiving a thorough beating—my way of setting the tone. I had a couple of guys drag him to the hospital afterward. The next day, he returned, swathed in gauze, and introduced himself with a bold declaration: he would one day lead the Behemoth. I laughed it off, dismissing it as naive ambition.
As I expanded my information network, whispers of Rada's rise grew louder. His ambition was no joke. So, when I heard of a new boss in town, I wasn't surprised—it had his fingerprints all over it.
"Congratulations," I offered, breaking the silence.
He shrugged, nonchalant. My gaze traveled over the fresh scar slashing through his eyebrow and the one carving a line from his cheekbone to his chin. New additions since we last crossed paths, as were the gleaming piercings in his ears.
"You went too easy on them," he remarked, his tone carrying a hint of disapproval.
"I don't kill unless necessary," I replied, exhaling smoke.
He gave me a skeptical look. "You think that'll make them fear you?"
"Why did you send them here in the first place?" I asked, blowing out a long stream of smoke. "You knew how it would end."
He shrugged again, noncommittal. "I was curious."
"About what?"
"Saci spoke a lot about you." The name twisted like a sneer in my mind—wretched Weasel. "I wondered if you were still loyal to that witch."
"And did you get your answer?"
"Not quite," he admitted, studying me with a thoughtful intensity. "I don't get why you stick around. You're mocked as her watchdog, and her personality is unbearable. If she paid you well, I could understand, but I know she doesn't."
"You get used to it," I said with a shrug.
"Why not join me?" he asked, his tone turning persuasive, his eyes narrowing with intent.
"I'm no one's subordinate," I replied, shaking my head. "I don't take well to orders."
"And yet, here you are."
"Hajnal's an exception. I owe her," I explained. "Besides, I like the work."
"Fair enough," he said, tossing his cigarette to the ground and grinding it under his heel.
"That," I pointed at the crushed butt, a hint of warning in my voice, "you're not leaving it there, are you?"
With a mocking smile, he bent down, scooped it up, and flicked it into the bin. I took another long drag to settle my irritation.
"As you owe her, I owe you," Rada said, his voice softening. "You're one of the few I respect. As long as I'm in charge, Behemoth will leave your pub alone."
"How generous of you," I replied with a wry grin, mirrored by his own.
"You should rethink that name, though," I added, pulling a face. "It's ridiculous."
"What? I think it's brilliant," he replied with feigned offense, both of us breaking into matching grins.
He extended his hand, and I took it, sealing the unspoken agreement between us.