WANTED

  Name: Yves Saint Agnes

  Affiliation: Independent

  Reward: 10,000 Silver Pounds

  Notes: Subject is extremely unpredictable

  — The English Crown

  Francis wasted no time. “What’s the plan?”

  “There is no plan!” Carmen snapped. “When the Inquisition sniffs you, you’re as good as dead.”

  One would’ve assumed her reaction reasonable, but what did she know about death? The man outside was no Read; otherwise, he wouldn’t be sent to investigate a minor skirmish.

  “We can team up,” Francis proposed. “That should help.”

  “Are you daft?” Carmen hissed. “Killing him would only mark us as a high-priority threat.”

  Touché.

  Francis surveyed his surroundings and quickly came up with another idea. “How about we pretend to be asleep?”

  This time, Carmen appeared to take his suggestion at face value. “That could work.”

  The building’s near vacancy was naturally a point of contention, but it was still Havana’s slums at the end of the day.

  “One problem, however,” Carmen added. “What if he recognizes our faces?”

  Speak for yourself. I’m as good as dead.

  “I don’t have a bounty, so I’ll take the sofa,” Francis replied as he hurriedly relocated. “You can hide your face with a blanket.”

  He half expected the Deacon to protest, but she complied. Then again, anything was better than facing an entire church.

  Francis sat on the sofa in haste, then kept an eye on Carmen, who was halfway through her own disguise.

  As the last of Carmen’s face was covered, he began thinking of a countermeasure of his own. The Inquisitor might’ve been unprepared, but that was no excuse for arrogance. And so, Francis put his flintlock near him.

  Not long after, he heard the building’s door open. His Observation was shut off long ago, leaving him at the mercy of his mediocre Premonition.

  Eh. At least I have it to begin with.

  Unlike Carmen, who was essentially defenseless.

  It felt like an eternity, but the Inquisitor eventually made it to their floor.

  Francis itched to use Observation, to use Intimidation, to at least open his eyes.

  But he couldn’t.

  Not when the church itself came to investigate.

  Saint Agnes’ services would’ve been really handy right now.

  Francis didn’t know what the man used at first to conceal his presence, but in that moment, it wasn’t doing much.

  Furthermore, the man was… talking to himself.

  “Ugh. I can’t believe something happened during my shift,” he said with a sigh. “Talk about my luck.”

  What is going on?

  “Am I even in the right building?” he added as he walked further away. “These two don’t appear to possess a single ripple.”

  Whatever led the man to talk to himself, it must have assured him that no one was listening.

  Which wasn’t the case.

  Or perhaps, that was the whole point. As someone capable of hearing him was automatically a serious threat.

  “Hello!” the man shouted. “Are you guys awake? I have questions!”

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  Please don’t fall for it, Carmen.

  Every muscle in Francis’ body was ready to pulverize the man’s skull, but fortunately for all of them, the bait remained ineffective.

  One would’ve expected the man to leave after a short while. Yet, he lingered.

  For at least an hour.

  Francis hadn’t the slightest clue if his body emitted any ripples, and it didn’t matter. Someone’s brain would paint the floor if he so much as drew nearer.

  With the stalemate extending, Francis had to think of a move that would convince the man that he was wasting his time, and so he improvised.

  Francis let go of the flintlock, slowly got up, then rubbed his eyes while feigning languidness. “I can’t believe I slept on the couch.”

  He then approached Carmen’s bed while completely ignoring the Inquisitor.

  “I hope you slept well, buddy,” the man said, which got no response.

  “I must say,” he added. “Who rents an entire building for themselves?”

  No answer.

  Francis then reached the bedframe, raised the cover, and lay down next to Carmen.

  “Oh, I get it!” the man said. “Sewer rats! Of course.”

  “Goodnight, love,” Francis said to Carmen as he drew closer.

  I can’t believe I got reduced to… whatever this is.

  To her credit, Carmen remained deadly still, probably hinting that she didn’t mind the improvisation.

  Francis expected the Inquisitor to finally leave.

  But he lingered.

  And so the two remained awake.

  ***

  Francis didn’t know when he slept, and he probably shouldn’t have. Not when the invasive Stanza haunted his dreams.

  Thankfully, there was no such thing that night, sparing him the avalanche that is the Inquisition.

  Carmen, in turn, looked less than amused. “I can’t believe you actually slept.”

  Her tone caught Francis by surprise, but he tolerated it. “I’m sorry. It won’t happen again.”

  “You bet it won’t,” Carmen replied as she got out of bed. “This is my last day here, anyway.”

  That got the better of him. “No. I still have a mission to accomplish.”

  “Is that so, love?” Carmen teased. “What are you going to protect me with? Your subpar charm?”

  Francis’ next move was as reckless as they came, but he was truly out of options.

  “I killed Read,” he said at last.

  That made Carmen freeze for a few seconds. “Come again?”

  “I killed Warlord Read back in Orange Town.”

  In truth, the kill went to Xavier. But it was Francis’ wish, was it not?

  A wish he had to pay for eventually.

  “Nonsense,” she replied dismissively. “The one who did it was Yves Saint Agnes.”

  Saint what now?

  “Well,” Francis said, ignoring the indignation. “You’re looking at him.”

  Carmen looked even more indignant. “You don’t look like the poster!”

  “Poster?” he said in confusion.

  “Yeah,” she said condescendingly. “It’s not common knowledge yet, but the kill was tied to Yves Saint Agnes, earning him a 10,000 silver bounty.”

  10,000 silver?

  In that moment, Francis regretted every single word he uttered. His bounty was double that of Valeria. Triple that of most pirates who looked down on him.

  All because of an assassination he foiled.

  Then again, the man was missing in action, and that was as good as dead to most.

  “Wow. Making me wish I was him right now,” Francis deflected.

  Carmen, however, wasn’t stupid. “Perhaps you are.”

  “Pardon?”

  “Why switch to deflection the moment you heard about the bounty? Are you afraid I might sell you out?”

  “Last time I checked,” Francis said, growing increasingly frustrated. “You have a bounty on your head as well.”

  “So you are him!” Carmen said in delight.

  Blast it, the lass is good.

  “Yes!” Francis shouted. “That’s what I’ve been trying to say for a minute now.”

  The woman’s expression turned slightly bashful. “Regarding the comment about being… yours. That was a joke.”

  “Thankfully,” Francis replied flatly as he moved towards the window.

  He didn’t know if the woman grew indignant, and he didn’t care. He just wanted to get it over with.

  “I’m sold,” Carmen said, to his surprise. “I’ll go with you to Rhys.”

  “That was fast,” Francis remarked, surveying her expression.

  “I mean,” Carmen began as she raised her shoulder. “You killed a Pirate Warlord. I don’t think Rhys compares.”

  Almost killed a Pirate Warlord.

  “Do tell,” Carmen quickly added. “How did you manage that?”

  “A shot to the brain,” Francis said simply.

  “With that flintlock,” Carmen said as she gestured to it. “Yeah, I believe you.”

  “Of course you do,” Francis taunted. “It tore your arm off.”

  The comment appeared to annoy her, but she didn’t linger. “Is it for sale?”

  “Not really,” Francis replied to her disappointment. “The formula is, however.”

  Sharing the process bordered on moronic, but one had to get money somehow.

  “No chance.”

  “Your loss,” Francis replied with a shrug.

  The two had a prolonged moment of silence as Carmen packed her belongings, before she eventually broke it. “Were you able to hear the Inquisitor?”

  Francis nearly answered before cursing his idiocy. The woman was no commoner. Every word that came out of her mouth was a test of sorts.

  “Not really,” Francis replied. “I just did what seemed logical.”

  “Cuddling with a dashing lady?” she teased. “Sounds logical enough.”

  “Not having my face exposed for hours,” Francis corrected in annoyance. “Besides, you’re the one who suggested bedding whoever killed Read.”

  It took Francis a second to cloak a certain inconsistency. “Wait! Didn’t you say you had no clue about Read’s death?”

  “Information doesn’t come cheap.” Carmen looked at him smugly. “But you probably already know that, Yves.”

  “I’d appreciate not calling me that outside,” Francis replied in annoyance. “Unless you want to be associated with Read’s killer, that is.”

  “Fair threat,” she said with a sigh. “I love having a neck, after all.”

  Truer words have never been spoken.