The Crafty Maid's Policy - Chapter Eight: Red Eyes
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Word count: 3.5k
TW: Death, violence, some gore.
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The day went by as it normally did. Cosmina seemed to grow more and more on edge as the gala got closer, much to the chagrin of everyone else in the house. But my mind was elsewhere: Vampires in Rivington. It was enough to make anyone nervous and I felt a wave of guilt every time I thought back to how she tried to tell me and I didn’t believe her, but how could I? It was a scary thought, but for her it must’ve been terrifying. I allowed her to face this on her own, but she wouldn’t tonight. If she didn’t appear, I would go to her. I would tell her I believed her.
As the bridge to Baldur’s Gate lifted behind me, I did as I was prone to do and looked around. Rivington seemed better today, more lively. Shops weren’t preemptively closed, people bartered with tradesmen, and drunkards sang songs so terribly, it made me want to cry from the butchering they did to it. It was a welcome change, though. There was still an air of unease, people checking around with wary eyes, hands hidden underneath coats, but at least they were out today.
I moved towards Sharess’ Caress, furrowing my brows when I heard the sound of music playing inside. As I entered, I spotted a full band sitting near the center of the room playing a decent enough tune, but certainly nothing I would play. They played to a fairly full crowd that pulsed with anticipation for something more. I smiled in confusion, a laugh of disbelief leaving me. Whatever was going on?
“Ah, Isolde!” Mamzell Amira approached from around the front counter, her arms opening in an embrace. “So glad you could make it.”
I returned her hug, my eyes staying on the band. “What is going on, Amira? Why is there a full band here?”
She raised her hands as if the answer was obvious, her bottom lip jutting out as she pinched her eyebrows together. “Well, when you said you would return, I figured I would make the most of it and provide you with backup. The more the merrier, I say!”
I nodded slowly, unimpressed as I listened to their playing. It wasn’t necessarily bad, but it certainly wasn’t good either. “Are you sure you didn’t hire a bunch of undead?”
She let out a loud laugh that held no humour in it. “This is why we keep you around. Now, go ahead and do what you do! I’ve told everyone who would listen you’d be playing tonight, so expect a full house.”
As I opened my mouth to protest, she sauntered away, a smug smirk on her face. I sighed, rolling my eyes when a familiar sensation prickled across the back of my neck. I reached back, stroking the hairs there in confusion as I lifted my gaze, trying to find the source. I wasn’t on stage yet, but maybe someone had noticed me. As I scanned over the crowd, though, I couldn’t find a single person looking towards me. I shook my head, trying to shake off the feeling of nerves I felt. Normally, that sensation was welcome, but given everything that’s been going on in Rivington lately, it left me feeling uneasy.
But, I couldn’t focus on that right now. If what Amira said was true, maybe tonight I would finally see Dalemora if I raised enough of a stink about it. If there was one thing I knew about the woman, it’s that she loved a good party. She told me so herself. I pulled out my violin and took a deep breath, feeling the mask slip on before all eyes were on me. Then I began playing.
I easily overpowered the band Amira thought was suitable. It wasn’t even that complicated of a song, but they still struggled to keep up. I moved through a smiling crowd who all raised their glasses as I entered into the center of the band and let the music take full control of the evening, playing loud enough to hopefully reach Dalemora.
As the evening continued, more people trickled in until there was hardly any standing room left. The crowd was loud, flamboyant, and mine. I thought for a second about taking them all outside just to stick it to Amira, but I decided against it just for the simple reason there was no ale outside. I approached men and women, letting their coins fill my pockets and the ale fill my belly. It was nights like these that despite the room feeling so full and lively, it felt…hollow. I could tell in their eyes that this was a momentary reprieve. It wasn’t like the first night or even yesterday. There was no fear here, no worry. As a bard, that should be a good thing, right? An easy job? But as people sung around me in drunken voices, I felt a yearning for something more.
As my eyes moved across the crowd, I spotted a pair of red eyes in the same darkened corner they were in just last night. But this time, instead of scanning the room, they were on me, accompanied by a, dare I say, neutral expression. Still not a smile by any stretch of the word, but at least he didn’t seem outright pissed to be here. His hands were where they were last night except a mug of ale sat on his table in front of him. Interesting.
At this point, I felt it would be fine if I took a break. As fun as it was seeing everyone tripping over themselves, I could tell it was at that point in the night that I wasn’t needed, if I ever was. As I moved towards the stranger, the songs continued without me, the terrible band continued playing, and I wondered if Dalemora would ever show up.
As I approached the man, a practiced smirk crossed his features and he leaned back in his seat, resting an arm along the back of the chair next to him. I squinted at the action, trying to figure out how to interpret it. He seemed calmer today, his features softer, his posture more relaxed. In his eyes, there was a flash of mischief in them. After that, it felt obvious. He seemingly thought he would win whatever interaction we were about to have. I felt a smirk cross my own features. I always did enjoy a good challenge.
“You seem much more relaxed today.” I said, moving to sit in the chair he rested his arm against. “Did someone get laid last night?”
His smirk deepened, a hint of darkness in it. “I certainly did have my way with someone last night.”
I curled my lips in disgust. “Forget I asked.”
“I’d rather not.” He returned, turning to look at the mug his hand traced. “I find your discomfort far more entertaining than anything you have done on stage.”
“That’s because you’re a heathen, I’m pretty sure.”
He let out a single laugh, a sound so surprising I almost jumped in my seat. I felt my eyes widen in surprise, but quickly re-calibrated, not wanting to give my pride away.
“Darling, you have no idea.” He murmured, lifting his gaze to me. “I was quite curious to see you play with…them.” He motioned to the band still playing quite terribly in the center of the room, an unimpressed look on his face. “Can’t say I particularly enjoyed myself.”
I nodded, my lips pursing as I moved my eyes to them. “Yes, they are quite terrible, aren’t they?”
“I’ve heard my fair share of terrible bands in my life. They are currently vying for the top spot.” He responded.
I hummed, reaching towards his mug and taking a drink, making a point not to look at him but feeling his gaze burn into me nonetheless. “I don’t think they’re that bad, in my opinion. The first bard I ever heard play couldn’t play to save her life, but that didn’t stop her from doing her job.”
He scoffed. “That wasn’t a bard, then. It was an artist.”
I looked at him, amused by his continuous hatred against artists. I found him looking back at me with a playful smirk, his eyes twinkling with mischief.
“What exactly is your vendetta against artists?” I asked, lifting the mug to my lips to drink, his eyes following the motion.
“What exactly is there to like?” He retorted. “They’re self-absorbed, self-righteous, and often times are in need of a bath.”
“It sounds like you’re quite close to being an artist yourself.” I murmured, looking back towards the crowd.
“Perhaps, but at least I bathe.”
I let out a small laugh, surprise moving through me at the action. This laugh wasn’t a fake laugh as so many others. It was genuine, off guard, unpractised. I furrowed my brows in confusion, frowning as I felt discomfort gather in me. I shook my head slightly, opening my eyes and grounding myself in the rowdy crowd in front of me, a reminder of what I was doing here; helping others with their fear and sadness. Waiting for Dalemora to show up. The mask slipped for a moment, but I found it again, hopefully quick enough for his secret spotting eyes to miss.
“I suppose you want a reward for that.” I responded.
“Well, that depends on the reward, obviously.” He purred, leaning close. “Did you have something in mind?”
I rolled my eyes, pushing him back into his chair gently. “Calm yourself. I don’t even know your name.”
He scoffed, a displeased frown on his face. “And? When has that ever stopped anyone before?”
“It’s stopped me plenty of times.” I returned with a sweet smile.
A silence settled around us then, my eyes still watching the crowd. It felt strange being in a small space of silence. Typically, I felt an urge to fill it with something, whether its a joke or a song or a flirt, but not here, not now. I felt…comfortable. And I wasn’t sure if I was comfortable with the idea.
“Astarion.” He said, finally, causing me to look towards him in confusion.
“I’m sorry?”
“My name is Astarion.” He said, his expression soft for just a moment before his own mask slipped back on, a suave smile taking it’s place. “Now there’s nothing stopping you.”
I chuckled. “I think you’ll find there’s plenty stopping me.”
“A bard who doesn’t like sex?” He asked incredulously. “Never thought I’d live long enough to see the day.”
“Maybe it isn’t the sex.” I retorted, raising my eyebrows playfully. “Maybe it’s the person offering it.”
He scoffed, mildly offended. “Please. You must be blind.”
“My reasonings are my own.” I quipped, smiling at his frustration.
He hummed, his eyes amused. “You are quite fascinating.”
“I am going to take that as a compliment.” I replied.
He chuckled. “I am curious about something, though.”
I turned to look back at him expectantly. “Should I be worried?”
He pursed his lips, his eyes more intent than last I saw. He scanned my face carefully, unease moving through me at the action.
“Well, it depends.” He said, bringing his fingers to his lips and tapping in contemplation. “Why do you wear a ring that doesn’t fit you?”
I froze, my hand instantly moving to hide the ring from sight as my body tightened. My brows pinched together as a discomfort I had never felt before swept through me at an alarming rate.
“I don’t believe that’s any of your business.” I answered harshly, giving him a glare.
His gaze moved across my face, tilting his head as he squinted his eyes, curiosity burning in them. I turned away and swallowed, feeling exposed.
“I would imagine for anyone to wear a ring that doesn’t fit, it would have to be special.” He continued, his eyes watching, scanning my reaction. “A lost lover, perhaps?”
I stood up suddenly, taking a deep breath, avoiding his eyes as my jaw worked and my hands turned into balls at my sides. No one had ever noticed the ring before, much less that it didn’t fit me. The usual distractions I provided were always enough, but I suppose to a man whose eyes saw everything, he would inevitably see that. I guess he was right in thinking he would win this interaction.
“Enjoy the rest of your night.” I said curtly, leaving the table and swearing off any further interactions with him in the motion.
Disgruntled with how this whole evening was going and figuring that if Dalemora wasn’t here yet, she wouldn’t come, I decided my time here was over. I was tired of the fake joy, tired of the terrible band, tired of the man with eyes that saw too much. I needed something real, tangible. I needed to help my friend.
Without saying farewell to Amira, I moved towards the harbor, the night air and sounds of the waves soothing my troubled mind a bit. The air was sticky from humidity and the faintest smell of flowers filled the air mixing with the salt from the river. It reminded me of my childhood on the coast. My mother’s garden full of exotic flowers, the brininess from the fish my father caught. It was peaceful. I should visit here more often. Specifically when there isn’t a killer vampire on the loose around here.
As I neared the docks, I felt a familiar prickling along the back of my neck and I froze, my hand moving to my dagger. I listened for movement, but all I could hear was the sound of the wind coming off the river and into the bushes and trees surrounding me. I furrowed my brows, thinking if continuing on was a wise idea. I looked up, Dalemora’s house close by, lights on in them. If I moved quick enough, I could get there before whatever was watching me approached.
I continued hurriedly towards Dalemora’s house, passing by the still hanging crime scene tape left behind by the Fists and quickly rapping on the door. I moved my gaze around me, watching for anything as I heard footsteps approach the door. There was no movement, but the sensation was there still. Then, the door creaked open.
“Dalemora, I’ve come to speak with you. I know what happened.” I breathed, lifting up my gaze and stepping back in confusion when instead of seeing small, green eyes on the other side of the door, round and bright red ones peered back at me. My mouth opened as panic filled me.
A frail and pale women tilted her head unnaturally as she stepped out of the house, blood trickling down her chin as her mouth contorted into an unnatural smile.
“Do you, now?” She said, her own chest heaving as her eyes raked over me hungrily. “I was jus’ payin’ ‘er a visit. Didn’ know she was ‘spectin’ company.”
I took more steps back as she moved closer, a small laugh escaping her as she shook her head. My heart pounded and I reached for my dagger, unsure what good it might do here, but hoping it could be enough for me to get out of here.
“Well, go on.” She taunted, a wild grin on her blood soaked face. “Tell me what you know.”
I shook my head and pointed my dagger at her. “Where is she?”
“She’s ‘avin a bit ‘o rest now.” She murmured, a dangerous glint in her eyes. “Kind lady, lettin’ in a starving woman like myself.”
I let out sharp exhale as I peered behind her and into the house, a sting of tears and horror as I saw the limp and bloodied body of my friend on the floor. Grief and regret seeped into my bones and I felt my world shatter. What might’ve happened if I believed her? Would she still be here?
“You killed her.” I whispered, bringing my gaze back to the vampire before me.
“I ‘ad to.” She mumbled, stalking closer to me, her hands lifting as she prepared to lung. “Pretty bird sang too loud.”
I felt my body tense and positioned my dagger to where I could hurt her enough to maybe get away and get help as she curled her lips up into a snarl and bent down to leap. She let out a yell as she jumped and I braced for the impact, but another body stepped in front of mine and slammed the vampire into the wooden planks of the harbor. They were quick and efficient as the woman cried out in pain when a stake went into her chest. She gripped at it, her eyes widening in pain before they turned lifeless.
My chest heaved unevenly as my eyes went from the dead vampire to the person who killed it. A familiar, dark shape straightened, his back to me as he lifted. Pale hair I had seen just minutes before in the brothel shined in the moonlight and as he turned slightly, I saw eerily similar red eyes to that of the woman he just killed. He scanned over me wordlessly and then as quickly as he arrived, he disappeared into the night, leaving me alone to deal with the ramifications of what just happened.
I stood, my breathing uneven as I looked back down at the dead woman, her red eyes wide still. Was she the one that was causing all these issues? Or was it him? Astarion. He seemed quite familiar with vampires, and I felt unease at him having the same eyes as she did. But if that were the case, why leave me alive? I was alone. He could’ve easily killed me and gotten away with it, but he only killed her.
My eyes wandered up and with a sinking feeling, I remembered my friend was in the house, bleeding, hurt, or even worse, dead. I rushed inside, finding her home in shambles. All the things that had been there before: the sturdy furniture, the warmth from the fireplace, was gone now. Glass littered the floors from smashed dishes, my feet crackling as I moved towards Dalemora. I knelt down, placing a gentle hand on her body and turning her to face me.
“Dalemora?” I whispered, praying to any god merciful enough to hear me that she was still alive. As her back hit the floor, I felt my hand move up to my mouth in shock. Her eyes were blank, her chest unmoving. She was as pale and beautiful as untouched snow and just as cold as it, too. I let out a sob, my hand reaching up to her cheek as regret filled me. I placed my head to her chest and gripped her lifeless hand in mine as I felt fresh tears fall from my eyes and onto her dress. It was the same dress she had worn when I saw her last.
She was a good woman, one who didn’t deserve such a terrible fate. I couldn’t even begin to imagine how terrified she was. She died alone, not being heard or believed by anyone, and I felt responsible. If I had listened to her when she tried to speak to me, I might’ve been able to prevent this. She would still be here.
I lifted my head and peered down at her face, reaching to close her eyes gently. I let out a shaky breath. Now, she could be sleeping. It helped in a way that didn’t make sense, but if there was one thing I knew about grief, it was that it didn’t make sense. My mind wandered to when she and I first met, shortly after my parents had died. Cosmina had brought her over to help me learn how to be a good maid and Dalemora immediately offered her condolences to me. She was the first person in Baldur’s Gate to do it. Cosmina didn’t, Isaac didn’t, no one seemed to care, but she did. And she hugged me as I cried onto her. I would never forget that. I would never forget her.
My mind flashed to the pale haired man who killed the vampire. He had some things to answer for. He had the same eyes as she did, the same pale skin. If he had anything to do with this, I would make sure he would pay for it. I brought my gaze back down to Dalemora and stroked her cheek. The first thing I needed to do, though, was get this taken care of. She deserved a proper send off. And that’s exactly what she would get.
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