WANTED

  Name: Eloise “The Siren”

  Affiliation: Independent

  Reward: 1,000 Silver Pounds

  Notes: Subject is adept at altering her appearance

  — The Iberian Crown

  Normally, waiting four days to conduct a mission would’ve been far too troublesome for Francis. But that was assuming he had no comfort to go with it.

  This time, however, comfort was the default.

  Sleeping well past sunrise, eating delicious food, and socializing in a controlled environment—it was everything a man needed.

  Not to mention Valentina.

  To her credit, the woman was good. Really good. Francis expected to refrain for a while longer, but experts seldom lost.

  Still, he wasn’t going to survive his Shanty-ravaged world with late-night conversations and sloth. And so he had to proceed.

  Francis couldn’t for the life of him understand why Carmen rented a dump in Havana’s sketchiest district, especially when a more affluent area would provide more safety, but that didn’t concern him.

  He was a sellsword, not a scholar.

  Thankfully, he had just enough intellect to approach the building in disguise. The locals’ muted colors and grime were far from comfortable, but they served a purpose.

  The bounty hunter was on the verge of entering as soon as he arrived, but he thought better of it. Carmen was no Dirty Fang, and neither was she Ironhook. Thus observe, he did.

  Surveying the scene for a few hours would’ve made one think that at least half a dozen people would use the building.

  Yet, none emerged.

  She rented the whole place.

  Such a conclusion at least explained the locale, as doing the same in a rich area was an impossibility.

  But also suspicious.

  Rhys warned Francis about using Observation during the operation, but last he checked, the middle-aged man wasn’t the one meters away from a Deacon. And so Francis did it anyway.

  As always, the heartbeats of those surrounding him assaulted his senses with burning passion, but that was exactly why he used it for weeks back in Orange Town.

  With his mastery, Francis was able to focus most of his attention on Carmen’s building. And sure enough, there was a heartbeat.

  A singular heartbeat.

  Where on earth did Rhys get the intel from?

  The woman’s hiding spot was essentially flawless. Yet the old man delivered regardless. It nearly made Francis glad for not antagonizing him much.

  Nearly.

  By the time Francis finished admiring the man, he inconspicuously moved to the back of the building, before swiftly activating Liquidation.

  Carrying his artifacts around gave no comfort, but leaving them behind was the worse decision, as there was no point in evading church suspicion if Carmen turned him into the world’s crispiest Submerged.

  Francis examined the smallest intricacies of his surroundings using Observation while climbing higher. Opening a window would’ve probably been easier, but noise was the last thing he needed.

  Thankfully, an open window presented itself when he neared the third floor, allowing him to enter the building unnoticed.

  If Carmen’s stable heart is any indication.

  The floor was dimly lit, as most windows were closed. It didn’t matter, however, as the connected rooms barely contained much.

  Francis remained motionless for a while in an attempt to avoid an ambush, before moving forward once confirming Carmen’s obliviousness.

  Going to another floor so early on would’ve been counterproductive, and so he did a full sweep first, which fortunately proved unfruitful.

  The story has been taken without consent; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

  I wouldn’t want to be blasted at point-blank range by a Deacon.

  Nevertheless, the action bordered on hypervigilance, as her heartbeat showed exactly where she was. The approach highlighted to Francis his deeply growing paranoia, but he didn’t dwell on it.

  Not when he joined the hunt once more.

  With a raised flintlock, Francis slowly descended the stairs and was mercifully spared their creaking.

  Gotta admit, Liquidation is one handy Stanza.

  The reverie didn’t last, however, as Premonition activated shortly after.

  Francis instantly used Substitution and swapped places with a chair.

  A second later, the chair was hit with a lightning bolt, charring the aged wood.

  The bounty hunter, in turn, fired his first shot, causing the woman to scream.

  The dim light provided little aid, but Observation highlighted exactly where Carmen stood.

  Relief was quickly replaced by panic, however, as he remembered the contract’s details.

  “Seriously,” the woman shouted. “Can’t we just talk?”

  “You shot me first!” Francis shouted.

  He couldn’t see Carmen’s face, but she must’ve looked livid. “Because you broke into my house!”

  The situation was… absurdly funny. Francis never had such an exchange with a mark before. Then again, he was never ordered to spare them, either.

  “Fair enough,” he replied as he tucked his flintlock. “Let’s talk.”

  The woman must’ve had Rejuvenation, as the wound appeared to improve by the second, if the subsiding moans were any indication.

  It then dawned on him that what he did was no simple task. He penetrated the defense of an Untether Deacon using an Acolyte-level artifact.

  Sheesh. Ruin is truly terrifying.

  Carmen lit a candle that revealed a comfortable sofa, then sat. “So. To whom do I owe the pleasure? The English? The Church? The Crown selling me, perhaps?”

  “None of those,” Francis replied as he took a seat of his own. “As far as I could tell.”

  “As far as you could tell,” the woman said flatly.

  Her reservations were valid, however. Francis hadn’t the slightest clue who Rhys worked for. Additionally, his request was an unusual one, as most pirates were wanted dead.

  “Truth be told, I was hired by this Rhys guy. He wants you alive,” Francis explained.

  Betraying the man stung, but in retrospect, Francis owed him nothing.

  Especially when he indirectly coerced him into staying with Valentina.

  Not that I’m complaining, but still.

  “Oh,” Carmen said in apparent realization. “That jester.”

  Francis raised a curious brow. “You don’t appear to be much of an admirer.”

  “Please,” the woman scoffed. “The man is delusional! He genuinely believes that he can turn me into a Pirate Warlord.”

  “Ambitious indeed,” Francis replied as he reclined slightly. “It’s not truly far-fetched anymore, though.”

  His demeanor appeared to garner her interest. “Elaborate.”

  His next words were a gamble, but he had to gain the woman’s trust, lest she pulverize him when he wasn’t looking.

  “Read is dead,” he said bluntly. “He died in a skirmish with some unknown pirate near Grenada.”

  Francis half expected her to jump from shock. Yet, she was calm.

  Far too calm, considering the news.

  “Serves him right,” Carmen said. “I don’t know who that pirate is, but I’m all his for what he did.”

  No, thank you.

  The openness of Havana’s women was truly unlike anything he had seen before. But again, what did he see? His first twenty-three years in life were all spent rotting in the middle of nowhere.

  “Did Rhys tell you that?” Carmen added. “Because I wouldn’t trust him if I were you.”

  “No, I used my own channels.”

  “Fancy way of saying intel brokers,” the woman said with a chuckle. “Still, you seem truthful enough.”

  “Monitored my heartbeat, I reckon?” Francis said flatly. Of course she had Observation—who didn’t have Observation at this point?

  “Perhaps I did.”

  I knew it.

  He sighed in defeat, before moving to what’s more pressing. “So. Does that mean that you’ll come with me?”

  “Not a chance,” Carmen replied with a humorless smile.

  “Pardon?”

  “Look, lad,” she said, as the last of her arm healed. “You seem earnest enough. But I can’t risk it. Not when my head is worth a few houses.”

  It was truly remarkable how it always boiled down to trust, but such a phenomenon was only natural in such a world.

  “What can I do for you to trust me?” Francis asked earnestly.

  “That’s the problem!” Carmen cut off. “The fact that you want my trust proves that you shouldn’t have it.”

  What kind of logic is that?

  “Besides,” she added. “Can you truly protect me against Rhys? Assuming you’d even want to?”

  Truth be told, Francis had no incentive to protect the woman. Getting the Fragment in exchange for handing her over was his one and only job.

  Still, he was a bounty hunter, not a human trafficker. He wouldn’t forgive himself if Rhys harmed the woman at his expense.

  “You saw what my gun did to you,” Francis replied at last. “I doubt Rhys can stand much of a chance.”

  “Assuming he didn’t fly into the sunset.”

  Francis frowned at that. “Is that a Havana idiom?”

  “No,” Carmen said. “Literally.”

  “Literally fly?”

  “Yes.”

  Of course. What else did he expect?

  Francis wasn’t allowed a moment of respite, however, as Premonition triggered.

  And it did so erratically.

  That naturally led him to activate Observation next, yet there was… nothing.

  “What’s wrong?” Carmen asked, too calm for her own good.

  “Something feels off,” Francis replied as he headed towards the window. Giving her his back was probably a bad move, but she was far from the biggest threat as things stood.

  “Premonition, I take it?”

  “Yes,” Francis confirmed. “Yet my Observation is obsolete.”

  Carmen’s sudden silence was louder than words.

  “Got a hunch?” Francis asked as he turned to her.

  “Yes,” she confirmed. “It’s the Inquisition. They must have felt our ripples.”