Darkmoon Chapter 3

Chapter 3: Sincere

The air was musty and old, moving as sluggishly as the tavern patrons that shuffled through it. Sitting at the corner, a dim figure was bent over his splintered table.
He let me go.
Sincere still had problems with coming to terms with this. He pulled the hood over his face just in time as a large man shoved past him.
Sighing, Sincere swilled the rest of his weak ale down. It didn't make sense. The best assassin in Warp, who didn't have any reason to spare him, had. Why? Mercy was not one of Emerin's strengths and from he had heard, neither was empathy.
Cold. He was cold and emotionless. Or he was very good at not showing it.
He smoothed a stray blond hair from his forehead and wondered, in a fit of panic, Did he tell anyone about me?
He hoped not. He had almost forgotten about all that. Fear crossed him for a moment, and he stood up abruptly from his seat. If that was true, he could not afford to stay too long anywhere. If that was true, he would be Emerin's next target, and worst of all, Asperus'.
He quietly went up to the counter to pay for his meal, almost unwillingly pulling out his coin purse as he stood in line. It was tempting to run and simply skip payment, but something tugged and told him not to. He was not that irresponsible, he had a moral code. Sincere paid as fast as he could, avoiding the innkeeper's stare at his inhuman face.
He stepped outside, breathing in the fresher air, then coughing as the dust rose. Shaking his cloak to rid it of dirt, he began the long walk down the road to find a place to sleep for the night. An ache entered his chest as he looked out at the decrepit buildings and garbage filled streets in front of him. The sun was setting behind a brown cloud. A crash sounded behind him, and he jumped involuntarily, then continued on at a faster pace. Within a matter of minutes the atmosphere quickly became dark and morbid, and people that had previously lurked in the alleys now came out completely.
  
I wish there was some foliage. Not a lot, just a bit to brighten it up, thought Sincere. Warp would be a better place to survive in if there was something of beauty in it to look forward to other than polluted air and wrinkled brown weeds.
Moonlight streamed behind, leaving long shadows in his wake. He slipped into an abandoned alley, squeezing himself into the narrow opening. Much too small for a human to get into, Sincere didn't have a problem, even with his wings pressing painfully against his back. Bricks dug into his legs, but he pressed on. The aperture opened up after a few feet, revealing a comfortably snug space of soil. Surrounded by the tall buildings all around, safe and private from the rest of the world, this was Sincere's favorite place. He sat down and ate a piece of bread he had been saving, and turned to the corner of his special place, patting the earth there. He gazed at it fondly. The pale blue light shone directly in his hideout, making it look as bright as day.
A small, sickly brown rose bush was struggling to hold its head up above the ground where he had watered its seed weeks earlier. A single, full blooming rose rested atop it like a majestic crown, healthy despite its conditions. He reached out a delicate white finger and brushed it, letting his sensitive skin linger on its soft velvetiness, admiring how it seemed to glow with light. He marveled at its hardiness.  
Sincere slipped off his cloak and let it fall to the ground. He bent down on his knees and made a sort of makeshift bed for himself before curling up on it. He smiled up at the beautiful ever-changing moon, and closed his eyes, thinking as he slept, I was wrong. There is some beauty here.
***
   The gentle rays of dawn passed over the womblike hiding place, and he awoke. He sat up, hugging his knees to his chest. Another day had arrived.
He stood up and dressed, then smoothed his grayish feathers down. It hurt him beyond belief to keep them so inconspicuous all the time, but he didn't have a choice. There was people out there, mostly humans, who were not kind to the other races, but their favorite to hurt was the slightly weaker and more fragile cupids that seemed so naïve and innocent to them. He grinned wolfishly as he strapped on his weapon, a double blade staff at least six feet long, but light as bamboo. Innocence was something he had lost long ago, and he could easily kill anyone who messed with him. Then, he reached up a finger to his face, stroking the long scar that was there. No need to raise suspicions and make more enemies he could keep track of.
With an effort, he squeezed out his special place once again, looking both ways to make sure no one was looking. Down the road, he could see people already beginning to set up market stalls for the day. The smell of freshly baking bread and cakes assaulted his nose, and he made his way to the source.
A few minutes later, he was helping himself to a small cake with his purse a bit lighter. He crouched by the wall to enjoy his treat, his entire focus on the food.
Someone bumped him rather hard from behind, and he dropped the cake onto the ground with a splat.
Curses, he swore mentally, trying to recover what he could. It was useless, and that was his only breakfast money for this week he had.
  A shadow fell over him, and he froze as someone bent down and touched his shoulder.
"Here, I'm sorry," said an all too familiar voice. He was too afraid to look up, but he did anyway. His fears were realized as pixie eyes met his own.
    Emerin! What was he dong here? The same as everyone else, he guessed. Market day was the biggest day of the week for most people. He bowed down his head so Emerin couldn't see his face, but he felt the assassin's calculating eyes on him nonetheless.
"Here, take mine," the pixie was saying. "I have another."
Emerin bent down and handed him something, then simply got up and walked away.
He forced himself to open his eyes and look down. Another cake was in his hand. He stared after Emerin blankly, confused as he watched him disappear into the crowd like a ghost.  
It was a good thing he hadn't noticed who he was giving the cake to, he reflected as he bit into it. Otherwise it may have been a different story. He doubted Emerin would spare him twice, for whatever reason. Even then, he wasn't as bad as he was made out to be, he thought as he chewed.
Wiping his mouth, he stood up. He should follow Emerin. He could be on his way to the steward's guild, and Sincere did not want to take the chance that Emerin would tell Asperus or his dark angel anything about him. Why would he keep it from them? And they were sure to ask him about it. He had to stop him.
Sneaking into a corner, he spread his cramped wings and landed on the rooftop, breaking into a run across the houses. The wind whipped his hair into wild spikes, and he ran faster. He couldn't let him tell Asperus anything about him.
No matter what the cost would be, he thought grimly as he cleared a roof, even if it takes my own death.
***
Emerin knew he was being followed. His ears could capture the slightest sound, and they even heard the cupid's stealthy footfalls brush the earth behind him. He pretended he didn't know, and turned into a wide avenue.
He had known since he bent down to apologize for bumping, and caught a fleeting glimpse of his face. The image flashed in front of him again, and he recalled the eyes best of all. They were so blue, almost unrealistically so, tilted up ever so much. But what had got him was the scar on his appearance. That was when he knew, and he had pulled out another cake and handed it out.
Yesterday he had opened one of the marketplace trademark cakes with his knife, and stuffed the inside with a tasteless poison made from salehta leaves. Then he had closed it up again. He had had a good idea where the cupid lived, as he had followed him closely the night before without his knowledge. The cake he had planned to leave near there, in such a way that the cupid was sure to find it. But then he had bumped right into him, and a change of plans was called for.  He had almost thought that he had given himself away by that accidental crash he had made last night, but it didn't matter.
He could still sense the cupid's sneaky advances close behind.
Pretending to pause to look at something, he stooped down, surreptitiously pulling out his sword. Counting the seconds in his head, he whipped around when he reached the number four to meet the blade with a clash of ringing metal.
With almost no time wasted, as if the stalker was expecting this, the blade jabbed at his knee and slashed at every unprotected part of him.
He tried to avoid it, but the cupid was fast and took the opportunity to prick his chest. It was like being in a blurred whirlwind, Emerin thought, striking the enemy with the ball of his foot. The cloak caught on it, and the cupid stood in front of him. He was sweaty with his gold hair plastered to his head, and his teeth were bared in anger.
But this only lasted a split second, and Emerin was forced to swerve to avoid the cupid's next aggressive strike. It was alarmingly close, and he sucked in his stomach but got grazed anyway.
"Tell me," Emerin yelled above the confusion, "Tell me who you really are."
The only answer he received was a swipe to his head, but as Emerin expected, it was not as strong as the last time. Encouraged, he shouted, "Tell me why the steward wants you, and I might spare you again."
  This time the stabs and lunges ceased completely, and Emerin turned to see.
The cupid was breathing hard, but whether from exertion it was hard to tell. Doubling over, he vomited suddenly. The weapon slipped out of his hand and fell. Emerin watched with a lazy interest as the cupid staggered his direction, looking pale and rapidly looking more and more disoriented. Their eyes locked for a moment, and Emerin was mesmerized and a little bit guilty at the sight of pure terror that dilated his pupils.
"What's the matter?" he whispered quietly as the cupid finally collapsed at his feet. "Had a little too much cake?"
The eyes widened a little bit more in realization, then rolled back into his head as unconsciousness seeped in.
***