The Dead Dove Locker -- "I don't know what I expected."

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The Dead Dove Locker -- "I don't know what I expected."

Mamorien Offline

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RE: The Dead Dove Locker -- "I don't know what I expected."

#145

07-06-2026, 04:25 PM

I never find out till I'm Headless Over Heels...

Dukerino Wrote:“Well done, madam.” Ofelia approached Marla, as the scriber wrapped Seth’s shoulder in gauze, and stuck a hand out. “With this done, I believe we may all part as friends.”

Marla squinted at the extended unlit hand. She sliced the long gauze bandage from the roll and tugged her work glove back on. Only then did she shake the unlit girl’s hand. Ofelia’s genial smile betrayed no ill feelings.

Seth shrugged his shirt back on over the gauze and buttoned it. The crisp and smartly stitched fabric—black, of course, he had a new aesthetic to uphold—was luxurious under his fingers. Now that he’d invoked the Forked Tongue it would be another hour or so before the patch of skin upon which it was printed recovered its hexis and the passive effect kicked in. He was impatient to give his sonorous new voice a try. He wondered if Annalise would like it.

“Il Gutierre.” Marla beckoned him. “Stay back a second.”

Seth shared a glance with Ofelia. The girl gave him a nod and strolled past Agger, up the creaking steps and out of the criminal underworld. Seth sat back into the overstuffed leather sofa Marla did her work upon. “If I’m not back up there soon, you won’t like what happens, you know.”

“Not gonna lay hands on you, Seth.” Marla rolled her singular eye. “Slippery as you are, you’d just pop right out anyway. What’s going on here, fella? Rohan’s knocked off, now you’re all spick and span in Legion black, running around with the Verdugo who killed him?”

“That’s about the summary, yeah,” Seth said.

“You had something to do with it?”

“Depends on what you mean. Is it my fault he’s dead? No. It’s his. Did I shoot him in the stomach? Yes, I did.”

Marla smirked. “You’re cocky with these unlit at your back, huh?”

“You know, Marla,” Seth said. “I suppose I am.”

Different This Time
“You’d better hope they stay that way, Seth.” Marla’s face turned grave. “You’ve got people looking for you. Coming to my fucking door, asking about you. You better be real civil with that Headtaker, cause without her you’d be looking over your fucking shoulder.”

“I’m the picture of civility,” Seth said. “I’m the hundred-and-first saint. Who’s asking about me?”

“Who do you think? Syndicate people. Rohan’s nephew. You heard of August al Agante?”

The floor dropped from Seth’s stomach; he industriously rebuilt it. “Should I have?”

“You have, Seth,” Marla said. “Don’t bullshit me. Guy was the Prossimo boogeyman.”

Seth shrugged. “I don’t believe much of what I hear. The young Syndicate guys are always talking about the nuns they skinned or whatever.”

“When it’s August al Agante,” Marla said, “you believe what you hear. When it’s August al Agante you tell him whatever he asks. Telling you now that if he comes back, I sell your ass out faster than a lame horse to the hexis dynamo.”

“I’d expect nothing less,” Seth said. “It’s like the lady said. Our business is done. I’m out of the life. I’m going straight.”

“Heard that before.”

“It’s different this time.” The spot on his forehead where Annalise had kissed him tingled. “This time it’s gonna stick.”

Marla raised an eyebrow. “You’re in over your head, I think.”

“Nah.” Seth winked. “I’ve got the Fox, right? No refunds.”

He detached himself from the leather sofa—summoning another dull sting to his back—and left the bemused scriber and her thumb-headed bodyguard there in the dark.

Ofelia was waiting for him at the florist’s cellar door. “A hard chew, that scriber,” she said.

“Ahh, she’s fine,” Seth said. “With crooks you have to sorta flip it in your head. The mean ones, you can trust what they say. The ones who act nice will pull your fingernails out for a brace.”

“You act fairly nice, Mr. il Gutierre.”

“Well, I’m not a crook anymore, Ms. al Ydris.”

“Ah, right.” Ofelia tapped her smooth, colorless forehead. “Pardon me.”

“It’s only fair.” Seth set off with her down the sparse Sondam avenue. “Your mom pardoned me.”