Last Life

PAUL LEPETIT’S BODY started writhing. A look of alarm and panic was frozen on his dead pale face. All his aristocratic gloss and confidence had blown away in the space of an instant. The wet hair stuck to his forehead, his shivering jaw and clattering teeth, broken nose and swollen lips — the bookmaker broke quite quickly. And I hadn’t even gotten started.

“So then, I’m all ears,” I said, spreading my arms and pretending I was about to listen closely.

The sound of my voice made Paul shudder even more intensely and stare at me uncomprehendingly with pleading in his eyes.

I turned to look at Beetle, who again pressed up into his corner.

“Monsieur Lepetit,” I turned to Paul. “Why aren’t you saying anything? Here I am. Right in front of you. As far as I’m aware, this was what you wanted when you ordered my trusty servant robbed and beaten, right? Or was that a strange method of sending me a message? Well, message received. Here I am. You have my undivided attention.”

Paul’s face went even paler. He seemed about to pass out again. Leaning over the desk, I slapped his cheeks and said:

“Monsieur Lepetit, I have precious little time. Get yourself... ghm... in hand.”

And still, I was not yet going to remove the knives from his hands.

“You owe my boss a great deal of money,” Paul managed to squeeze out, clacking his teeth.

As expected, my words didn’t make a particular impression on Paul. That could only mean one thing — Trebolt completely approved of his subordinates’ actions. And that in its turn meant Max’s creditor, now my creditor, was accustomed to doing business like this. And he essentially didn’t care one bit about reputation.

Oh well, to my eye that only made things easier.

“It was a mistake,” Lepetit burbled out pleadingly. “And I beg the sincerest apology of you and your valet. It will never happen again.”

“Indeed it will not,” I snorted.

I didn’t know what sort of scheme Paul was trying to run but, after I said that, he shuddered and tried to take a step back, which only made matters worse for him. Jostling his hands pinned to the table made him scream loudly and pass out again. I had to hold his head up to prevent a serious concussion.

“Listen, Beetle,” I said to the pipsqueak who all that time had been afraid to so much as breathe out of turn. “You’ll have to resuscitate him again.”

“What?” he asked, staring at me uncomprehendingly.

“I’m saying bring him to his senses. This guy’s soft as silk.”

Beetle went racing to the far table and brought over another decanter. The last one. After pouring it out on his boss’ head, he started slapping him on the cheeks. Based on the new scent, this wine was more expensive than the last one.

Abbeville’s chief bookmaker finally came back to his senses. When the look in his hazy eyes paused on me, I nodded to Beetle with the decanter, and said:

“Monsieur Lepetit, if you keep fainting at this rate, your wine cellar is going to be empty before too long. I say we quickly calculate my servant’s winnings so I can be on my way. And let’s not forget about compensating the poor fellow for the physical and moral damages he sustained. I’m sure a hundred crowns will more than suffice.”

Paul nodded very quickly and started babbling. Hope appeared in his eyes.

“Of course, Chevalier Renard! Of course!”

“Next,” I continued. “Seeing how our short ghm... standoff ended in my victory, in accordance with ancient custom, I am entitled to my spoils.”

Paul kept nodding like a madman. Seemingly, in that moment, he would have sold his own mother just to keep his life.

I sniffled and rolled my eyes:

“I agree, it is a barbaric tradition, but who are you and I to defy our ancestors’ commandments? Let me warn you right now, I lay no claim to any of the valuables in this building because I am aware they do not belong to you. We will act in accordance with canon. Beetle, help Monsieur Lepetit remove his rings and the other valuables on his person. And by the way, take those knives out of his hands. But be careful.”

“Please, don’t,” Paul begged in a quavering voice and Beetle froze for a moment. “I am willing to pay a redemption fee for my personal items and jewelry. After all, you’re only going to sell them, but to me they have sentimental value.”

I squinted and switched to true vision. Not discovering anything out of the ordinary on his body, I asked:

“You aren’t trying to swindle me, are you?”

Paul gulped loudly and shook his head fast.

“Please, chevalier!”

I could tell he wasn’t lying.

“Good,” I nodded. “Let’s do that, then. I would be willing to accept, hm... let’s say three hundred silver crowns.”

Paul’s jaw crept down, and he forgot his injuries for a moment. Beetle meanwhile gave a muted hiccup.

“Have a heart, chevalier!” Lepetit prayed. “All my belongings together aren’t worth even twenty crowns!”

“Two hundred,” I negotiated down a bit.

“Thirty at most!” he shot out. “Or just take my things...”

“Let’s round that up to fifty,” I suggested. “Final offer.”

With a fated sigh, Paul Lepetit nodded:

“I accept.”

“Great!” I smiled, rubbing my hands together. “Then let’s get started.”

A few minutes later, I was handed three fat sacks containing four hundred pleasantly clanking silver crowns. For the record, Max was sent packing by his uncle with a total of three hundred.

But I was in no rush to celebrate. While Beetle counted the money and Paul looked on, I casually asked them how much I owed Trebolt. They didn’t know a precise figure, but they assured me it was more than I was getting today. After hearing that, I yet again found myself wishing that Max had been reborn in a new world in the body of a cockroach or some kind of slug.

More than four hundred! That idiot managed to get more than four hundred silver crowns in debt to a crime boss! And silly me, I’d started thinking that today’s winnings would be enough to cover all the financial holes Max left me.

Snatching the sack off the desk, I turned around without saying goodbye and went to leave the office. On my way, I looked closely and memorized the layout and positioning of windows — that knowledge would come in handy very soon when I made my next visit to the building.

The thing was that while Paul and Beetle were handling the money, I managed to scan the room and discovered two hiding spots which, based on their telltale multicolored glow, contained magic items. My Dodger brain, as happened so often, had already started sketching out a plan.

“Beetle!” I shouted, not turning around. “After me!”

Behind me, I heard hurried footsteps and a fated sigh.

At the door, I found people waiting for me. It was Jacques and the boy who showed me the way to Bertrand. Unlike Jacques, who viewed things relatively calmly, he stared at me in fear as if I was some kind of monster.

“What are you still doing here?” I said to Jacques, frowning. “And where is Bertrand?”

“The old man refused to leave without you, monsieur,” Jacques shrugged melancholic as ever, and added: “He’s in the buggy. He asked me to go after you and help.”

“What a great helper,” I snorted as I stepped outside.

“Why, there’s no catching up to you,” Jacques grinned, nodding at Crab’s already cool dead body.

I just shook my head and, not slowing my pace, called Beetle over.

“Yes, monsieur?” he said eagerly, walking quickly by my side.

“Run through the floors and collect my spoils from the bodies of all your comrades,” I said without stopping. “Come on, let’s go. And make it snappy.”

“Yes, monsieur,” Beetle bowed and wanted to run off to do as ordered, but I stopped and placed a hand on his shoulder.

“You’re just perfectly obedient today. Not threatening me with reprisals or spooking me with your boss. It’s all a bit strange...”

“That would be very rash on my part, monsieur,” Beetle’s whole body shook.

“I’ll pretend I believed that,” I muttered and nodded. “Get started. You have a couple minutes.”

While we went down, I kept scanning the house. But sadly, I didn’t find anything else of interest. Maybe there were other hiding spots, but they must have been in another part of the house. Either that or I just couldn’t spot them. A closer inspection would only hamper the plan that was now practically fully formed in my head.

The hefty front door was blocked off. That was Jacques’ doing. The doorman, who I’d taken down first, was lying just inside. I took a glance at his energy system. He would survive. As would all Trebolt’s other goons who had failed to defend the bookmaker’s office. I had my doubts about the second bruiser, who I put down with an energy blow to an old wound, but he too would wake up soon. At any rate, I had been saving my meager energy reserves not hitting full force.

Incidentally, the only member of the gang who had woken up so far was the redheaded kid who recognized me on the stairwell. When we walked past, he was sitting propped up against a wall and watching me with a dim gaze.

“Renard!” he rasped out while wincing in pain. “Still not going to explain why you attacked me?!”

“You were in my way,” I replied without stopping. “Next time you get the bright idea to do something like that, you won’t get off so easy.”

As we walked down the corridor, I asked Jacques a question:

“Would you happen to know who that was?”

He grinned once again, and a flash of delight lit up in his eyes.

“Of course. He used to visit often. That was your friend, the Chevalier de Nevers. Honestly though, it seems you’ve been at odds recently...”

“There it is,” I snorted. “What a small world.”

That redhead was the man I was supposed to duel over a shopkeeper’s daughter. What was he was doing here? Had he also come to collect his winnings?

Bertrand was waiting in the buggy, wrapped up in my fur coat. Based on his rosy cheeks and conscious gaze, the old man wasn’t feeling all that bad. And my cursory survey of his energy system confirmed that.

“Old fellow,” I shook my head, hopping into the buggy. “You’re starting to become unmanageable. Looks like I’ve spoiled you.”

Bertrand had been smiling happily ever since I left the office.

“Monsieur! How could I leave you to the whims of fate?!”

He first tried to stand up and give me back the coat, but I stopped him.

“Sit there and stay still. You’re a hero today,” I told him, pretending not to be cold even though the vest made of thin fabric I was wearing was no comfort in the evening cold.

A few minutes later, Beetle hopped out after us and handed me a small canvas bag.

“It’s all here,” he said and, hesitating a bit, added: “I decided not to take the Chevalier de Nevers’ coin purse...”

I waved it off.

“I’ll handle the gentleman later. Better you tell me the way to the nearest pharmacy.”

“Abbeville only has a pharmacy downtown. But two blocks away there’s an herbalist...”

“I can show you!” the little kid who had been silently watching us piped up and turned his curious head side to side, astonished.

“An herbalist, you say?” I came thoughtfully. “Okay, even better. Hop on!”

When the buggy was nearly around the corner, I took one last look at Beetle standing at the office door. I saw no hatred or rage in Trebolt’s henchman’s eyes. He was thinking about something very tensely. I was familiar with that facial expression — it was that of a man about to dive headfirst into a whirlpool.

Beetle was not lying. The herbalist’s home was indeed just two blocks away. As an aside, compared to the other buildings, which were in quite a pitiful condition, the herbalist’s place was surprisingly well kept.

The windows gave off quite a welcoming, bright glow. She must not have had to save money on lamp oil or candles. The small garden in front of the building had been painstakingly cleared of snow. Against the wall under an overhang was a neat pile of firewood — all signs the herbalist was not a poor woman. As an aside, many believed that winter was a bad time for members of her profession. But just the opposite was true. Winter was when people got sick more often, and thus had greater demand for herbal remedies. What made her want to settle down in this particular neighborhood?

“What is her name?” I asked our guide.

“Everyone calls her Lada, monsieur,” the kid answered eagerly.

“Lada,” I repeated thoughtfully. “Interesting name.”

“They say she moved to these lands many years ago from the free principalities,” the kid shared a local rumor.

I just nodded in silence. I didn’t want to admit my ignorance of this world’s geography. While walking up to the gate, I was hoping they would bring the map and books I ordered from the bookstore soon. I was sick of learning about this world from fragments of conversations. My brain demanded more complete information.

It all happened while I was standing next to the gate and about to loudly call for the woman in the house. My eye caught on the front door, and I got the feeling a troop of ants was marching down my spine. Into the upper half of the door was carved a small design I easily recognized as a witching protection rune.

Vadoma used similar runes to cover the outer walls and front door of the home we shared. It was a sign of warning. The woman living here was a witch! As it turned out, our worlds had more in common than I thought.

I instantly switched to true vision. The rune glowed with a dark blue shade. A common herbalist, you say? Well, well... Time to scram before she sensed the mark Vadoma had inserted into my energy system when I was a kid.

I took a slow step back and, quickly turning around, wanted to run toward the buggy but was stopped by a cheery woman’s voice:

“And here I thought a wild animal was wandering around my house. But no, my sixth sense has never let me down. Hey, spellsword! Would you please turn around? It isn’t very polite to show your back to a woman when she’s talking to you.”

I breathed a heavy sigh and rolled my eyes. So, she sniffed me out, the vermin. She made quick work. And no wonder. This was her land. Essentially, this entire neighborhood was her land. That put a lot of things into place. But all was not lost yet. She was only able to sense one of my natures. The spellsword. A warrior and sorcerer combined.

I slowly turned and put on a welcoming smile. Before me, standing a step away from the front door there stood a short woman who looked to be about forty. Her coal-black hair was in a thick braid. Her puffy rosy lips danced with a smile, while a cheery little flame burned in her big dark green eyes. I found myself unwittingly admiring her predatory beauty.

“Greetings, madame!” I made a bow. “Forgive the intrusion. I’ll be on my way. You won’t see me in your lands again.”

I tried again to leave the witch’s grounds, but she stopped me again.

“Not so fast,” she mumbled, and inhaled deeply through her nose like an animal. “Let me get a better look at you.”

I also switched to true vision. Yep, I was no match for her. Her reservoir was ten times bigger than mine. But if me and that lady had met in a past life, she would have had to run from me with her tail between her legs. But sadly, I was now here in this world in this weak body. And in front of me, just a few steps away, now stood quite a powerful witch.

“Fox, then,” she said affirmatively. “First time I’ve seen one of you!”

She again sniffed the air and quivered. All her good nature blew away like the wind. Her eyes narrowed and nostrils twitched. I then cursed under my breath... She had sensed Vadoma’s mark. What a pesky woman...

“You bear the mark of a witch!” she exclaimed in a guttural language.

And then came my turn to be surprised. I knew that language. And it wasn’t Max’s knowledge, it was mine. She was now speaking an ancient witching tongue.