Vigor Mortis

Chapter 101: Plotting Dates

It’s weird to sort of have a girlfriend.

After cuddling for a while underneath a tree, some monsters eventually got brave enough to approach, so we had to stop while I killed and ate them. Then we spent another day heading deeper in, maybe even deeper than I’ve ever been in the forest before. The speed at which the souls around us started to escalate in power the further we got, and the realization that, even once I started to feel outclassed, the forest had plenty more danger to show us… well, it was the right kind of humbling, I think. When a powerful soul inside my range started screaming for help in a disturbing, parroted version of human language, we both made the decision to leave rather than investigate.

Still, I had fun. We both had fun. And during this past tenday we’ve gone out to the forest four other times, on quick one-day excursions to get me more power. I think I’ve finally reached the point where I can yank Sky or Capita straight out of their bodies, killing them as soon as they get close enough. Obviously, though, there’s one major problem with that.

“Your range is still only about seven feet, right?” Penelope confirms, taking a bite out of some sort of fried pastry thing that we just bought from a street stall and wrinkling her nose with distaste.

Penelope is dressed down, perhaps more dressed down than I’ve ever seen her, even counting hunter missions. Rather than her usual loopy, swirly hairstyle, she’s moved the entirety of her impressive hair to a single braid, her ever-present dresses replaced with some admittedly still quite fancy trousers. It strikes me as possible that her sudden change in outfit is representative of something, but I know better than to assume I have the social wherewithal to determine what.

We were out on what I think might be a date, but neither of us have ever at any point referred to it as one. When I say that I ‘sort of’ have a girlfriend, that’s also what I mean: we’ve never called each other that, either. Penelope has always been very careful to say that we are in a ‘relationship,’ but never what that relationship actually is. I’m fine with this, of course. I like it that way, and I’m fairly certain she knows and it’s exactly why she describes it like that. True to my predictions, I don’t feel like I’m doing anything different than I was before this relationship officially started. The difference is entirely in Penelope, and the way she likes to hug or hold me whenever we are in private. Again, I like it. If most people tried to grab me the way she so often does, I’d probably break one of their bones, but that’s more a matter of familiarity than anything. I’m used to assuming that everyone is a threat, that I constantly need to look out for myself because no one else will do it for me. Sometimes a panicked instant of that triggers when she hugs me unexpectedly, but it quickly tends to pass. In the moments when we are together and my instincts are calm, I do like the contact.

Being able to touch her with my soul is the best part by far. Unfortunately, it’s one of those things we can’t do in public because it might put her on the radar of a metamancer, and apparently the spell is fairly draining so Penelope has limits on how long she can keep it up perpetually anyway. She doesn’t want to make our relationship too obvious in public either, as that’s the kind of information that would quickly get back to her fiancé and cause her trouble.

“Not exactly, but seven feet is close enough,” I tell her. “You’re worried about mobility.”

“I am indeed,” Penelope nods. “Sky and Capita both have knowledge of your soul-kill ability. In an even, open fight they’re likely to defeat you, even if you have the capacity to kill them instantly, simply because Sky can remain outside your range and attack from a distance.”

“And Capita can teleport, as well as attack from a distance with her chaos magic,” I finish. “Yeah, it’s a problem.”

We are of course using a silence bubble to speak, but for the first time I’m actually the one casting it rather than Penelope. Kynamancy is a bit confusing, some parts of it feeling natural and other parts utterly alien to me. I like illusions, specifically producing sound and light from nothing but magical energy, but any spells that require me to modify energy already in the world don’t come as easily. The silence spell is one of those, but due to its obvious utility I’ve put in the work to learn it anyway.

“If you could cast invisibility, we might be able to ambush them,” Penelope considers out loud.

“Hey, don’t say that like it’s easy,” I grumble. “That spell is crazy complicated. I can’t just stop all light the way the silence bubble stops all sound, because that would just be a darkness sphere. I can’t wrap my head around invisibility at all.”

“Actually, a darkness sphere might not be a bad idea,” Penelope muses. “You could see anyway with your true eye, while everyone else would be blinded.”

“That’s also surprisingly difficult,” I grunt. “Just destroying light in an area is pretty difficult, which is to say you can’t do it all. You have to let something absorb the light, I guess? But that’s really difficult without physical stuff, and magic can’t make matter, or at least kynamancy certainly can’t. I guess hypothetically you could make a dome that reflected all the light trying to go inside it, but people could just light a match while in it to get around that. You’d need to make a spell that individually blocks every source of light within a certain area, or something? At least, that’s my understanding.”

“Interesting. I know a few kynamancy spells, but I just have the structure memorized, none of the theory. That does match with my limited knowledge, though. In that case, could you create a spell that pseudo-randomly redirects all light within its area? It wouldn’t make darkness, but it should make all the light within utterly unintelligible. It would be just as blinding, but would not require any direct elimination or conversion of the energy.”

“Huh,” I consider. “Yeah, that definitely sounds like it could work, but I might not have the raw strength to give it a big enough area to be worthwhile, plus I’m nowhere near good enough at kynamancy to start inventing my own spells. But I will definitely talk to Rowan about it.”

Penelope and I find somewhere to sit down, a table at some sort of plaza filled primarily with food stalls and wasteful, tasteless decorations. She hands me the fried pastry thing that still only has one bite taken out of it, and I eagerly wolf it down while she goes to buy something else, handing me half of that too. She tends to buy me a lot of food on these kinda-dates, which is clearly more proof that she truly loves and understands me.

Although, since I’m trying to be a bit more introspective, it doesn’t escape my notice that the instincts which encourage me to feel affection for people that feed me are likely the same as the ones which cause me to despise contact and be slow to trust. I’ve been wondering lately whether the degree to which I don’t seem to think like anyone else is because of my upbringing, my quote-unquote ‘talent’ (which, even if I’m fairly certain is an inaccurate description, is at least a succinct way to say ‘all of the weird and crazy inhuman aspects that I’m capable of performing exclusively due to the nature of my soul’), or because of something on my human side. It’s probably not the way I grew up, considering the sheer depth and breadth of kids in exactly the same situation. A lot of my siblings—and it’s weird to think of them like that and mean it without reservation—seem pretty normal compared to me. Maybe that’s because they’ve spent more of their lives with Lyn, but Lyn was also just like me, at least until she got her talent. Rowan has likewise been a street con for pretty much his whole life and while that’s certainly a step or two up from a beggar, the steps are not very large. So it’s probably something in my human half or my soul half that makes me… like this.

That’s how I’ve started thinking about myself lately. Two halves. It’s not a pleasant way to define myself, since one of these halves is something I hate, but Penelope is right in that I still need to acknowledge it. My soul certainly seems to be a lot more independent than the average soul, uniquely capable of action independent from my body. But the link is still there. I can’t keep my soul awake while my body sleeps, I can’t survive without physical food no matter how many souls I eat, and I can’t fully ignore the impulses of my flesh no matter how heavily I try to disassociate from them.

And, of course, I can feel that if the core of my soul leaves my body, I will die. Perhaps it will not be a complete death, but I already know what happens to souls outside of bodies and I have no reason to assume that the Mistwatcher will make an exception for me. If I die and my soul becomes inert like everyone else’s does, well… that’s the end. Of course, it’s also plausible that I could somehow act independently without a body, but I’m not really keen on testing that considering I have no method of doing so which wouldn’t risk being exceptionally permanent.

“Lost in your own head a little?” Penelope asks, taking a bite of the unidentified meat product she bought and apparently finding it much more palatable.

“Yeah,” I confirm. “I can’t let you do all of the thinking for me, can I?”

She chuckles at that, politely covering her mouth since it’s still full of food. After swallowing, she continues.

“Well, on that note, I actually think I have a solution to your range problem,” Penelope says smugly. “In short, we should be able to force a fight underground.”

“Underground?” I mutter, considering that. “You mean like, the sewers? How would we lure them down there? And can’t Sky just smash his way through the ceiling?”

“Not the sewers,” Penelope clarifies. “Even further below that. Far further. The sewers are too close to the surface near the center city area to hide the amount of metal we must assume Sky possesses. There are only two things he could reasonably be doing with everything your mother claims to have stolen for him. The first would be some kind of magical super weapon, designs for many of which exist but only in theory, since the amount of metal required to make them would most likely trigger a perception event. The second possibility… and the one I think is most likely, unfortunately, is that he may be purposefully attempting to trigger a perception event.”

“Uh,” I respond eloquently. “That seems… bad.”

Penelope shrugs.

“It’s functionally the same outcome as a super weapon, he’ll just have minimal control over it. If he wants to ensure the death of the king, however, the only real control he needs is timing and general location. Given the resources at his disposal, I suspect he has set up a containment room underneath the castle, and he’s moving the pieces in it one at a time. They can’t move everything at once, because that would require all the metal to be together in transit, which would just unleash the perception event early. So he is likely delivering the disparate metal he owns to Capita, who then teleports it bit by bit into the storage room dug underneath the castle whenever the King is home. If and when the perception event occurs, it will completely annihilate the castle and a significant percentage of the center city around it, which will almost certainly kill not only the K governmenting but the vast majority of our government.”

I nod slowly, trying to take all that in. I have actually been thinking about just not betraying Sky, since my life is just really good right now and I don’t want to rock the boat. But a perception event? Yeah, fuck that. One perception event is way more than I ever wanted in my life.

“How can you be sure that this is the plan they’re going for?” I ask. “It seems awfully specific.”

“Sure?” Penelope shrugs. “I can’t be, of course. But it’s not as though I’ve been meeting with the man every other day for tea and biscuits. My biomancy work is interesting, and I do think it’s starting to endear me to him a little, but ultimately I’m there to get close to him and learn how he thinks. He’s angry. He’s fatalistic. He sees the world in black and white. A complete purge of the center city would absolutely fit his modus operandi as I understand it, and were I in his shoes, possessing his resources, that is how I would accomplish it.”

Well, shit.

“How has that biomancy work been going, by the way? I’m honestly surprised you two are still going at it, considering how much you hate each other.”

“I never hated him, really,” Penelope shrugs. “Although I certainly didn’t like him, and still don’t. I understand him, however, and that lends itself to a certain sort of empathy. Likewise, I believe he is starting to realize that he relies on me now. I have been making strides towards his requests, although there have been amusing mishaps. I tried taking a purely hormonal approach to helping him grow a beard, but all it did was make his buttocks hairy instead.”

I snort.

“That’s hilarious,” I say. “Why not just like… build him a beard? I’m pretty sure you got rid of a bunch of my body hair, didn’t you? Could you do the reverse?”

Penelope smirks.

“I’m honestly impressed you noticed,” she jokes. “The short answer is yes, I can and ultimately did do that, but the process involves individually encouraging the creation of each hair follicle. As I’m sure you may imagine, that is a bit of a boring and arduous process, so I had hoped to take a shortcut. Alas, art requires work.”

“Wow, so he’s going to have a beard when we show up to kill him? That might be weird if I actually remembered much of what he looked like.”

Penelope halts right before taking another bite of food, taken by another minor fit of laughter.

“I love how you can show genuine interest in his progress and discuss his casual demise in the same breath, as if one will not cancel the other.”

“Why would that cancel anything?” I ask, tilting my head. “I’m interested in the work because you’re the one doing it, not because I care about him. You like to talk nerdy.”

She smiles slightly at that, taking a large bite of food and failing to hide how my words make her face flush with happiness. I like eliciting these reactions from her, chipping at her mask. I should tease her more often.

Unfortunately, I don’t get to enjoy it for much longer as a member of the city guard approaches hesitantly. I turn to glare at him, and likely due to a mixture of how I ping on danger senses and the nature of my eyes, this causes him to flinch and briefly stop walking. I enjoy that quite a bit. For many reasons that should likely be obvious, I really fucking hate the city guard. Sure, part of that is because I lived most of my life as a criminal, but I would have been treated as and abused like a criminal regardless of whether or not I actually was one. I have never had a single positive interaction with these people, and I don’t expect that to start today. Unfortunately, he does work up the courage to continue approaching us, so I let my silence bubble fade away as he clears his throat to address us.

“Um, g-good afternoon, ladies,” the guardsman stutters.

In terms of people employed with the understanding that their job will likely encompass some amount of kicking the shit out of things, city guards tend to be on the low end of the power spectrum. Hypothetically they are strong enough to deal with the average criminal, but anyone with a better talent or just more skill in general would end up in the military, the Templars, or maybe as a hunter. Still, part of being city guard is threat assessment, so almost all of them have some form of rudimentary danger sense.

Which is all an overcomplicated way of saying ‘damn, it’s nice to be scary.’ I like seeing people in uniform scared, rather than everyone else. I try to remember the sort of facial expression that would be appropriate for this situation, and settle on a feral grin.

“How can we help you, guardsman?” Penelope asks pleasantly.

“One of the, ah, stall owners has asked me to ask you to relocate on the grounds that you are bothering his customers,” the guard manages to get out.

He keeps staring at me, and I happily stare back. My eyes are getting dry, but it’s easy enough to ignore. He squirms. This is fun!

“We are paying customers ourselves, and we have kept to ourselves, being neither rowdy nor boisterous,” Penelope answers smoothly.

“Plus, I’m only bothering one customer,” I correct. “Not customers plural.”

Penelope gives me a glare, but it’s halfhearted at best.

“Vita,” she chides.

“What?” I say. “It’s not my fault, I haven’t done anything but exist. That guy has been freaking out about us since we sat down, though.”

Without turning to look, I point at the man I’m referring to, the only other person in the plaza with a danger sense. With a startled jump, he turns away, and my grin grows a little wider.

“Vita, don’t antagonize the man,” Penelope presses, although I can tell she’s almost as amused as I am. “Guardsman, as I’m sure you know a person has no influence over how others perceive them using trained or natural abilities. It is not legal for you to request her departure under these grounds, because if it were you could arbitrarily request our departure from any public space regardless of what we were doing.”

“It would be funny if he tries to get us to leave anyway, though,” I point out.

“Vita,” Penelope chides again, though I see her lips twitch upward.

The guard clears his throat.

“U-um, well actually, while this area connects to government property it is actually a privately owned space, under the joint ownership of—”

I stop paying attention to the conversation, because something interesting suddenly pings my extra senses. A soul I don’t recognize, large enough to immediately draw my attention. It feels like it’s searching, and when it senses me it falls victim to the mortal terror anyone with a danger sense does… but rather than flee or panic it starts making a beeline towards me without hesitation. Mana fills it, a learned spell is cast, and whatever that spell is seems to affect the caster’s soul.

“It’s all right,” I suddenly say, cutting off the guardsman. “We’re leaving.”

I shoot Penelope a meaningful glance and she immediately nods. The two of us get up and I head towards the nearest alleyway, intent on losing whoever is tailing us. Penelope casts another privacy spell, which I’m thankful for because I don’t have the focus to spare on doing it myself.

“I’m pretty sure I just felt an Inquisitor,” I tell her as soon as she finishes.

“Shit,” Penelope swears. “Well, let’s lose them. How certain are you that it was an Inquisitor?”

“I don’t know. Sixty percent? Whoever they were, they had a strong enough soul to be a Templar and I’m relatively certain they cast some kind of animancy on themselves.” I frown, peering more intently at the changes done to their soul as I rapidly make distance between us. “Maybe some kind of counter-animancy? A shield against soul tampering, made out of soulstuff? That’s my guess.”

“Would it stop you?” Penelope asks.

“No. I could rip this person apart. You think we should lure them in, ambush them?”

Penelope taps her chin in thought.

“No,” she eventually concludes. “We’re too close to the lab. Just lose them, if you can.”

I nod, scooping up Penelope in a princess carry and breaking into a run. She wraps her arms around my neck, sighing contentedly as she rests her head against mine.

“You knew that I was going to pick you up if you told me to lose them,” I realize.

She grins.

“It may have factored into my decision-making a little,” she admits.

I suppose I can’t complain. We run for a while, losing the Inquisitor long before they ever see us. I continue carrying Penelope, though, just because I can.