I fell out of the bed face first, behind me my companion let out a truly horrific scream. I was beginning to suspect my gal pal might be a little less human than even I was.

  Great.

  Ignoring the pounding in my head and the way my vision seemed to ripple and blur I snatched a pistol from it's holster.

  Just in time for something solid to thump across the floor and-

  Boom!

  Light.

  More pain as every screams and chaos became the persistent ring of shattered ear drums. I struggled to blink the afterimages burned into my eyes away, but it felt like a fools errand. My mortal sight was blinded by whatever bullshit magic or alchemy these party crashin' sons-a-bitches were packin'.

  "Roche!"

  I looked up through the distorted haze of mana visible only to my Arcane eye. In it towered a female form wrapped in shadow, her features twisted into a feral snarl, limbs too long and fingers clawed. Only her eyes remained in my magical sight.

  Piercing, cold, terribly beautiful.

  "Defend me!" she howled. That tugged on something, something in me as a single tendril of darkness shot from her hazy aura to connect us.

  Another flash. This time memory, not light.

  Shadows in the dark stealing the life from the people behind me. A panicked sprint toward a hall of traps. The terror of being hunted by the dead, and by the serpents that controlled them.

  Twang.

  I felt my arms, acting only on their own, alien instincts for self preservation, throw me from the hard floor and to my feet. I barely noticed the barbed bolt buried in the floor, right where I had been a half second before.

  Motherfuckers! No one shoots at me and lives.

  Any memories or coherent thoughts about magical compulsion fled in the face of clear and present danger.

  I was a survivor first, a man of will and action.

  Everything else, it was dressin' on the meat.

  Bang.

  No thoughts, no apprehension, just the desire to close the gap. Just the fury that came with havin' a... Well a pretty interesting night all said, made far too interesting by the addition of a bunch of assholes with crossbows and a penchant for dramatic entrances.

  Bang.

  I was half across the room, one man already clutching his gut as the head of a second exploded in a fountain of gore and shrapnel. The third though, he'd seen his comrades go down easy, and he wasn't no fool.

  He'd dropped the crossbow and went for the short swords at his hip.

  Oh man. Hadn't I been punctured enough for one night? For one lifetime? Between Raph's rapier and my date's bitin' kink, I was getting' a tad tired of folks tryin' to stick me.

  So, I stuck first.

  Bang.

  The world bled as I flew backward, my feet dancin' along with the recoil without a thought. It was like my arms and legs was puppets, and some unseen hand had pulled their strings.

  Sadly, the prick was good. Good enough to shatter the projectile with a silvered blade that glowed white in my arcane eye.

  But, well, not good enough.

  I grinned as his eyes widened, and his mouth moved, probably sayin' something clever.

  Boom.

  I had learned something about fighting swordsmen in close rage. After the first few ass-kickings handed out by my Della Luna instructor, I had come to a nasty realization. While it was trivial for a skilled man to guard against a mundane pistol shot aimed for the chest or the head, there was a limit to the training of most on such a storied martial path.

  See, it was a lot harder to guard low.

  The bastard's eyes crossed, a look of confusion and pain painted his face. Then his legs went out from under him, the dark stain where his rod and tackle had been the only sign of the shot.

  I didn't hesitate.

  Boom.

  Still blinking away the shock and pain I stepped over the dead men and peeked outside. The stairs were clear, the alley empty in the early morning light.

  "Good," I muttered, "Hey uh," I turned and my face fell as I found no one behind me. Just a fucked up room, a few of my affects and her scattered about, and open window, curtains fluttering in the breeze.

  "What the hell?" I muttered, rubbing the back of my head. Did that girl really leave me to deal with this mess? I suppose I had to respect the instincts for self preservation and the trust she obviously invested in me to cover her escape.

  Right?

  I shook my head. My thoughts were... Strange. Muddled whenever I considered the night, and the woman who had spent it with me. It was like the recollection was covered in a layer of fog. Like the details was there, but too vague and distant to reach. All that really lingered was the warmth of her, of the pleasure we shared, and not just between the sheets.

  Hell, I think dancin' with her had been even more fun. It was rare, so very rare that I felt much a connection to anyone, beyond the immediate, the necessary. Even Shorty or Raph or Temperance. People were just, people. Tools, companions, obstacles, they were whatever you needed them to be. Somehow though, that siren, the singer of the Sailor's Catch, she felt different.

  I didn't understand it. I wasn't even sure I wanted to, but I knew.

  "See you soon, songbird." I muttered as I stumbled to dress and get my gun.

  I heard heavy foot steps down the alley just as I made my own exit through the open window.

  Hell of a mornin' after.

  I walked, no, staggered back to my apartments behind the Guildhall. I was still piss drunk, even while wrestling with the mother of all hangovers. She'd been real rough with all that bitin' and I was certain I had lost no small amount of blood. If it weren't for my ability, Ice-Cold Blood, I might've been pretty weak, maybe even in danger.

  But, well, here we are, and if a little blood loss is the price to pay for an evening like that?

  A small one.

  Once safe and at home, I puked my guts out. Over, and over, and over again.

  Then, finally, I slept.

  It was a day and a half before I woke.

  Not to the sun, as I am accustomed, but to an insistent pounding on my door. The sound made ears ache and by the time I escaped the sodden tangle of bed sheets I was trapped in and put a hand to the door, I had half a mind to shoot whoever was on the other side.

  "Roche," a familiar, smooth voice called, "so you are alive then." Raph said, his fine features of mask of concern soured into to ire.

  Beside him Miss Tawny also stood, an equally disappointed look on her face.

  "Mister Roche. We were very worried and-" she stopped, leaned in and the jerked back, "gods! What is that smell?"

  I smiled sheepishly and scratched the scruff of my chin.

  "Hey, look, I uh. Was pretty rough yesterday. Had a little too much and, uh..."

  "Roche," Raph cut in, his words sharp and hard, "it's been two days. You were supposed to attend my lessons at the Della Luna estate daily. Two days in a row you missed, and did not send word, did not contact me. And then, when I went looking, this is what I find?"

  His eyes, those deep, rich brown eyes, were hard.

  I could see a hint of fear, of worry beneath the anger.

  I cleared my throat, "Hey now, I, uh. I got a good reason. I didn't just drink myself stupid and sleep it off." I mean I did do that, but there was more to the story, "I met a, uh, nice gal at the docks. But into a kind of tussle the next morning. Some pricks kicked down her door just as we was finishing up. I don't know who they were, or why, but I did take care of it."

  "You," Raph began, his jaw clenching, "you, took care of it?"

  "Well, yeah, I handled the situation, kept the lady safe, and the rest-"

  "Wait," Tawny cut in, "is that why you're so pale? Are you bleeding?"

  This tale has been unlawfully lifted without the author's consent. Report any appearances on Amazon.

  "What?"

  The young woman darted forward, a slender finger poking and prodding, her other hand moving to tear at my shirt, "damn Roche, there's a lot of blood here. Were you injured?" she asked as her inspection finished at the, mostly healed, mess of my neck.

  "Well, sorta. It's fine though, really."

  "No," Raph hissed, his anger and fear replaced by a quiet worry, "it is not fine. I'll admit, I thought you had just shirked your responsibilities, and was furious. Now, I see, and..." He paused, "you were quite injured, weren't you?"

  Well...

  No. I was mostly fine. But, I saw an out, and as much as I consider myself an okay man, I'd never been a very honest one.

  "Yeah, Raph. I'm sorry. Really. Don't think I knew how much that night took out of me. Thought it was just a bad hangover. Guess it was a little worse."

  Raph stared at me, and I held his gaze, the silence stretched on until finally-

  "Gods damn it Roche. Why are you so..." Raph's hand lashed out, the man's grip iron as he clutched my arm and dragged me forward, "come. Our healers will inspect you. Next time you are in trouble, you come to us?"

  "Or us." Tawny cut in, "you have friends now Roche. Let us help."

  Well shit.

  Now I did feel bad about lying. I might not, well, I might quite understand them.

  But I did like the pair.

  "Yeah, I will."

  That seemed to mollify the duo, and as I followed along to be poked and prodded by a couple Della Luna physicians. I was a little surprise when they let Tawny through the gates and into the private clinic room on the compound. Seemed Guild officials had some kind of privileges around these parts.

  She sat with me and Raph while we drank some minty tea and chatted. Ernie joined us a while later, the young merchant seeming pleased and refreshed as he joined our conversation.

  It was a strange, alien thing.

  Just talkin', for the sake of it. I didn't do that enough anymore. Whatever my thoughts on people, be the allies, tools, enemies, whatever, the truth was, I loved people. I loved listenin' to their stories, the little insights into their lives, their passions.

  "I was not raised here," Tawny began, "my family hailed from the southern islands, but we came to the city when I was a child. With the second colonization wave."

  "Ah," Ernie said nodding, "me too actually, well the tail end. What are you, twenty-four or so?"

  "Twenty-two," Tawny admitted, a faint blush coming to her cheeks, "but I'll be twenty-three this winter."

  "Oh! Me too!" Said the tall boy, his voice rising to a pitch, "we should have a party! I was born mid-winter, and there are so few other nobles close to my age. I would be so pleased to share such an occasion with a dear friend of my savior. Especially such a lovely and compassionate one." He beamed and looked between me and the blushin' half-halfing girl. I think maybe Ernie didn't quite know how that invitation came off. Or worse.

  He knew exactly.

  Raph seemed to enjoy the discomfort as he leaned in and added fuel to the fire.

  "That sounds wonderful, Ernie. It's so rare that we have the opportunity to make merry, and even rarer that a man of your stature, or a woman of the same, would extend such a welcome. Miss Tawny seems the perfect date, and it's clear she would enjoy the company."

  Tawny's face turned red, her embarrassment turning to something akin to fury, and Ernie seemed confused.

  "I, uh, would enjoy the company of course, but I wonder if there's a certain degree of professional impropriety involved, I mean Roche is-"

  "Roche is your co-worker," I croaked, "Roche approves of you socializing with his friends. Mostly 'cause it means he won't have to as much. No offense, Ernesto."

  "Oh, uh. None taken?"

  Raph stifled a laugh with a delicate hand, "Indeed. I'll make sure you have an honored invitation, Miss Tawy. Roche will deliver it on behalf, won't you?" Asked the man, his warm eyes glinting.

  "And of course you must come too! Both of you!" Ernie added, his enthusiasm returning tenfold.

  "Uh, yeah, sure. You bet." I nodded.

  Neverminded the fact that I would almost certainly not. The Flock had work for me just before then. I didn't think it'd be a good idea to show my face at some high society party fresh off an assassination of a Magistrate, but hey, maybe. We kept talking, or they did. It didn't take long for my handler from the Guild and my friend to fall into their own little world.

  They clicked, like puzzle pieces or magnets or some shit.

  It was cute.

  Sadly, I couldn't stick around. The doctors had checked me over and proclaimed that there wasn't much left for them to do. My Ability had restored all of whatever was lost, and besides some lingering pallor and a mild headache, I was fit as a fiddle.

  Obviously, Raph delighted to hear of my return to health. Before I could even button my trousers the lithe man was dragging me down the velvet carpeted halls, past smiling servants and countless paintings and statues.

  We stepped out into the training yard and I had to squint in the noon sun.

  "Do we really need to do this now?"

  "Two days Roche." Raph said, his hands finding their places on the hilt of his rapier, "two days that I've fretted, and worried, and stewed."

  "No offense," I drolled, taking my usual place in the sands, "but you hardly know me Raphael. Why worry at all?"

  Raph smiled and rolled his shoulders, the muscles shifting in a way that was, well, a little distracting.

  "I'll tell you why. Because, in this whole estate there are exactly two people who are still willing to spar with me," he found his own place across the pit and slid his blade from it's sheath, tappin' it on the stone behind him and settin' it to ring, "dear Ernesto, who is so far below my level I have to pull back or break him. And you." he raised the point of the piercing blade in challenge.

  I drew in a sigh and hovered my hands over the pair of pistols at my hips. I was feelin' a might sluggish, but, well I felt like I gained something since our last few bouts. Fragments of my night with the songstress flittered in like flashes of light and color, and as the first strike rang out, I saw the shadows. I felt that sensation of ease, felt unseen strings pull and guide. I felt the warmth of her crimson kiss on my neck and just let the memory of her presence burrow on in.

  It was almost like I was lettin' her lead the dance again, and, for a minute, maybe the sword master was surprised.

  Bang.

  I zipped to the side as he dove into a thrust, not just riddin' the unnatural recoil now, but embracing the feeling of motion. I was not a raft lost at sea, I was a sailboat, harnessin' the currents and winds.

  Raph blinked as I raised both pistols and cocked the hammers, "Impressive," he said, his tone almost casual, "your movement has improved."

  "Yep," I said, my words tight, my body tense. The moment of clarity was fleeting, but I clung to it. I was not about to lose ground, "been practicing. Worked out a couple of kinks."

  "Oh?" Raph smiled as his stance lowered, blade extending, "and I suppose it was your mysterious paramour that inspired the change?"

  I grit my teeth, and Raph, the bastard, he took that as an answer.

  "Ah," he sighed, a smile twisting his lips, "then I have competition-"

  Blur.

  I fired on reflex, not quite at him, it was impossible to truly aim while in such a state, but it didn't matter.

  I missed.

  The bullet shattered a flagstone beside the swordsman, and I felt my stomach turn, as a cold sweat broke out across my forehead.

  "Oho," Raph exclaimed, the man's eyes wide with delight, "that was amazing. A perfect dodge."

  I knocked his thrust blade away from where it nearly skewered through one cheek and out the other.

  "Perfect would meant a bullet hole in your face," I growled, the blur fading.

  "Yes, yes, I suppose so," Raph mused, "but don't do that, please. I'm quite durable, but it would hurt. Which reminds me, Roche," he commented circling back to his spot.

  "Yeah?"

  "It's about time you invested in alchemic or enchanted rounds. I think I've shown that your mundane pistols are ineffective-"

  I snapped out an arm, aiming toward the sand as I felt mana pouring into the runes carved along the barrel of my right hand side gun. It took a force of will to school my face as half a day's vigor was annihilated to fuel the roar of dragonsfire that poured from the barrel.

  I smiled, "What was that about my ammo being ineffective?"

  The sword master's expression shifted, and I thought I saw the slightest hint of a blush on his pale face.

  "Well, obviously the weapons are fine," he coughed, "didn't realize that inscription on them was functional."

  "A Outcast girl, a... Something like a friend carved them for me."

  "Is this friend, are they still-"

  "Shorty's fine. She was one of the survivors from the Vault delve, which I assume you've heard plenty about."

  "Yes, yes I recall," Raph said with a sigh, "that was regrettable. And as a representative of the Della Luna, may I extend our sympathies, and an open ear should you want to speak about it. But," he stabbed his sword in the sand and leaned against it, the vibrations ceasing as the mana dissipated into the earth, "my point stands. Enchanted arms are all well and good, but you're visibly drained from the effort of using it. Aren't you?"

  I nodded.

  "But alchemical, or enchanted ammunition, it doesn't rely on the warrior's own mana or lifeforce. It can be a significant, if costly, advantage. In addition, the use is more versatile. You can pack elemental or arcane effects into the shot in addition to simply increasing the kinetic energy and speed of the round. I can see the advantages of such an expenditure, can't you?"

  I could.

  But...

  "Well, ain't that going to cost me a limb? I mean I have money..."

  Raph frowned, eyes narrowed, "Don't be cheap man, it's unbecoming."

  I raised my hands, "Says the rich boy from his mansion fortress."

  "My families' mansion fortress."

  "Our families' mansion fortress!" Ernesto cut in. He and Tawny were walking close, each of them eating some delicate confection that looked more art than food.

  "And you've got like, thousands of gold Roche. That signing bonus with the Guild, that's enough to live on for years. Definitely enough to afford some better gear," Tawny added, crossing the distance to plant a short finger into my terribly worn monster hide vest, "this thing has holes bigger than my head."

  I looked down at the dents and impacts in my looted armor and gave a weary sigh. I had been thinkin' as much, truth be told. I even had a good idea where to get some of the things I needed.

  That merchant I helped out in Hightown was an alchemist, Shorty was too, though I was loathe to bother her again. Then there was the sister of that same merchant who was supposed to supply me some new duds for free.

  And.

  And all this time, for over a week, I hadn't once gone out to see Moxie or pay my stable fee to Miss Marry.

  Shit.

  I was a terrible friend. Even to my pig

  "Fine," I said with a shrug, "if y'all think it's a good idea."

  "We do," the three chimed in unison.

  "Then I'll see you tomorrow," I muttered, dusting off my boots with a stomp and retrieving a smoke from my coat.

  "Oh," Ernesto said, his mouth going from the usual grin to a small frown, "but we're going with you?"

  "Oh," I said, my voice dripping sarcasm, "no you aren't."

  "Oh," Tawny mocked, "you can't stop us. Do know how rarely I get to go shopping? Let alone with people I like?" the little woman put a little heat into her words as something built and rose behind her, like a dark cloud, "I would be so upset if you denied me this simple pleasure, Roche. I know you're Mister Lone Gun, badass Hunter on the rise, but sometimes you have to let your friends help. Besides, who else will protect you from your obviously crippling lack of fashion sense."

  I scowled, the cigar clamped in my teeth, "What the hell is wrong with what I wear?"

  Ernie, Raph, and Tawny exchanged looks, their mouths all twitching upward.

  "Uh," Ernie said, scratching his chin, "well, your pants are too big, your boots are obviously the wrong size. Your duster has so, so many bullet holes and tears. And the shirt," he shivered, "Roche it is thoroughly stained with your own blood. Didn't it used to be white?"

  "Yeah," I muttered, looking down at the mess that was my outfit, "damn prissy rich folk, lookin' down on a workin' man..."

  "You'll thank us, Roche," Raph assured, "trust a little my friend. The fact that you can tolerate my blade at your throat but balk at the notion of my company in the market speaks volumes."

  "Fine," I said, the cigar still clamped tight, "but don't be hangin' over my shoulder and none of ya'll better complain about our first stop." I said, a smile growing on my face as a plan formed.

  "Where are we going?" Tawny asked, her curiosity winning over her earlier irritation.

  "We're gonna go see a girl about a pig."