THE HOW | EARLY EVENING
It woke the Wisp, like climbing out of a thick fog, her eyes opening slowly—well one at least. The other was bruised and swollen, much like the rest of her.
It had been a handful of days maybe, since Alyssa had turned up at the Book and Bell with an almost unrecognisable Serro in the back of a young man’s carriage. She didn’t remember much after the disaster our rescue, snippets of sounds and words. Vaguely she recalled panicked cries, calling to Stu, asking him where Jon was.
She looked around the small alcove that was a makeshift medical bay, the old red bricks from the tunnels damp with the cool air that permeated the How. Her right arm was aching, and felt tight against her body. Alyssa pulled the covers away and sat up carefully, looking down at it with a frown. It had broken, that was certain, but the extent of the break she hadn’t known. Even now, wrapped in clay hardened bandages and a sling, the brunette wasn’t sure how bad it was.
“Better, I think. Arm’s not hot anymore, that stuff Doc gave us looks to be fixing it up. Probably not as good as—” It was Stu’s voice, lowered and weary, choking up as he tried to speak. The other—Ginny for sure—made a soft sound.
“Oh aye. Not as good.” A pause.
“And Jon?” Alyssa’s head lifted at the name, heart in her chest as the voices faded. They were moving away from her. Coming to her feet carefully, the Wisp pushing the curtain aside to look at the hallway they disappeared down. She followed, catching them both in one of the larger back rooms, ignorant to whoever else might be there.
“Where is he?” She croaked, her voice hoarse from lack of use and recent conciousness. Ginny spun to look at her with wide green eyes, and cautiously raised hands to placate the woman.
“Alyssa, rosh. Take it easy now, ye chen? Ye we're pretty ba—” The assassin turned from her to fix Stu with a firm look.
“Stu. Where is Jon.” It wasn’t a question, the young witch seeing there’d be no discussion until Alyssa saw him. She tch’ed, looking at Stu who was almost glowering at the Wisp.
“What were you thinking Alyssa?!” The woman frowned in return, her blue eyes hard.
“There was no other option. I couldn't risk Jon’s life, or yours. Easier job with just—.” The look on the barkeep’s face was one of restrained anger and dismay.
“But you could risk Red’s?” Alyssa blinked, looking at Stu in silence for a moment before glancing at Ginny who’s lip trembled dangerously. It was all the information she needed, taking a second to steel her heart against the grief of knowledge.
“Red knew the risk. She knew.” There was a flat steadiness in her voice, a void where emotions meant vulnerability. Her eyes looked down, brow drawn.
“Who else knows?” Alyssa said quietly.
“Well, I guess now everyone who’s here.” Stu snorted, waving at those who’d he’d gathered to discuss matters of importance. Those who were considered close enough to know why the Wisp had been carried through the How, or who had seen a filthy bloodied body in Stu’d arms.
“And me.” A thick, raspy voice sounded from the room they argued in, only then the assassin looking up at the faces gathered there. She glanced at each of them, noticing Emelia in the mix and there in a chair fashioned of metal and wheels, wrapped in bandages and looking like Naulanon had a hand on his shoulder was Jon Serro, his missing eye still uncovered and legs covered in a blanket.
And he looked furious.