CONTENT WARNING: Sensible alcohol consumption, threats of violence. One use of bad language.
Another one to bear historical context in mind for. If questioning gender is a difficult subject for you right now, whether because of dysphoria or something else, then this chapter might be a difficult one.
two months later
Katlego
With the new-found support of the community surrounding Henford, I was back in business, and much faster than I had expected. Many were grovelling and apologetic, making donations which I did not refuse. I shared some of the donations with Father Morgan, as a form of 'rent' payment which he would put towards feeding the poor and funding various community events and projects. He was a selfless man, perhaps dangerously so. He could do with someone to help him out.
Áine helped out a few days a week as well. It's good to be back in her company. Interestingly, she mentions the man I met the other day, saying that he was her 'father'. It didn't ring true to me- after all, they both hailed from completely different places. I didn't question it. Maybe she didn't mean it in a literal sense, somehow. That said, her knowing him still didn't entirely convince me that he was trustworthy. I'm still going to force myself to visit him, though. Ellie keeps telling me I should stop trying to do everything by myself, after all.
I'd made a fair bit of money simply on using divination cards. In a time of hopelessness, people wanted guidance, or the assurance that, in their future, there'd be a glimmer of hope. It often wasn't the case for anyone in Henford.
Most of it was due to scarcity with Henry now gone. I had no doubt that Henry was murdered, and if he was so willing to go for Henry like that, I dreaded to think what he'd do to Gideon. At least Gideon has a means of self-defence, I guess...
Father Morgan had told me that Annorin had asked both him, Shepherd Julian of the Jacoban cathedral and the barkeep in the Finchwick tavern of my whereabouts. The barkeep apparently spat at him and the patrons all poured their drinks over him, chanting at him to pay for their entire tab for the night.
I didn't think Father Morgan had the fight in him, but I overheard a little of their conversation. Father Morgan had warned him to never step foot in Withernham again if he knew what was good for him.
According to Father Morgan, Shepherd Julian was far more straight-forward, telling him that the Watcher would smite him upon the Eve of Retribution, and he hoped someone else would smite him before it. He didn't explain in detail, but from what I could get from what Father Morgan had told me, Shepherd Julian had lost someone in his life due not being able to afford medicine from the one person who could cure it. There's hardly anyone in town who hasn't lost someone to him, and at this point, I was done with him.
* * *
This evening, I make my way back to Finchwick, careful to avoid the lurking eyes of the witchfinders. Their numbers have thinned lately. There's talk of a wolf creature slaughtering them upon every other full moon, though I haven't yet seen anything as such.
Reynold had told me where Oskar lived; he seemed to already know of Oskar's dislike for Annorin, and knew he'd have little qualm in possibly lending me some assistance. Where we'd met last time wasn't too far from his home. He didn't say much about him, other than that he was a woodworker who was currently busy with an apprentice.
To my surprise, he readily lets me in. He's a little unsteady on his feet, and I wonder if it has something to do with the glass of strangely viscous-looking wine in his glass.
"Is there a reason you're here, Katlego?"
"Indeed. I have questions for you, Oskar."
"I see," he says, in a dry tone. "Ask away."
There's something unsettling about the way he looks at me. Nothing behind the eyes. I gaze into the fireplace instead.
"All this talk of Annorin and how much you hate him, and yet there's an air of formality about you that no enemy of Annorin would ever carry about himself."
I probably could have put that in a politer way. I seem to draw his ire.
"You don't believe me? Why would I lie about something like..."
He places his wine glass on the table, and looks at me like he's about to have me for supper.
"Let me clear up a few things for you, Katlego. All of this 'air of formality' comes from having grown up comfortably. I've had most of these clothes for years- more than one hundred of them. I may look like one of the elites who laughed knowing you were ousted from your home, but I can promise you I'm nothing close. Never was, not even back then."
It couldn't be. A vampire? I'd heard stories of bloodsucking creatures both back home and here, and all around the world...I never thought I'd ever meet one. When I faintly sensed his magic, I assumed he was part of a magical bloodline.
"Most of my current income comes from Annorin; his son is my apprentice. He wanted his unwanted child out of his hair and so I'm taking him for every penny that I can."
"I see. What is his son like?"
Oskar lifts himself from his chair, taking another sip of his wine. It's got a peculiar scent...
"That's blood, isn't it?"
"Bloodfruit. Close enough for now," he replies. "As for the boy, he's nothing like his father, thankfully."
"So what could you possibly have against Annorin? Of course, almost everyone hates him now- but why you, and why so much?"
The chuckle in his throat is enough to send a chill down my back. Thank goodness he's mostly on my side.
Oskar
As much as it irks me to know she doesn't trust me, can I blame her? I'd be distrusting, too, if a seemingly 'rich' man I barely knew voiced his distate for an elite seemingly out of nowhere.
Looking at Katlego, I feel the same way I did with Dinah. She's lovely. I could only dream of growing my hair as long as hers. And the dress...a little too colourful for my personal taste, but it suits her colourful personality.
Then it hits, like a punch to the gut. Much like with Dinah, there was something Katlego had that I wanted for myself...I don't want to believe it, but I believe I've worked out what is hiding in those patterns of thought. One thing that every woman I know has in common: femininity. It must be.
The amount of times I'd been mistaken for a woman throughout my entire life, and the fact that it never bothered me that it happened. The fact that I always seemed to get along better with women than with men. The fact that many women who didn't trust men trusted me just fine.
During my days as a soldier, entirely surrounded by other men day in and day out- even though many of them respected me and even called me a friend, there was still a feeling that I somehow didn't belong, that I wasn't like them somehow.
The more the thought dawns on me in clarity, the more I realise that I don't want it in the sense that I wanted it in its entirety. Still...is that possible?
Having magic in your blood opens you up to the fact that both the universe and the mind are impossible to truly define, and completely beyond most people's understanding. Almost everything is technically possible, yes...I'm already living between life and death...to live between masculinity and femininity is surely no less possible-
"Oskar?"
I forget for a moment that Katlego is in the room.
"The same reasons most people hate him, Katlego, and a little more. I've seen too many terrible fathers. I'm used to being the surrogate father. I'm good at it. I take comfort in it. But I've never had the satisfaction of caving in the skull of any of the terrible fathers that left the children that I took in as my own. Either I couldn't find them, or they were already dead."
She gives me a horrified look, but I don't respond in any apologetic way.
“So you see Eli as your son?”
“I haven’t said anything to him, but…in a sense, I do.”
"And my friend Áine...did you take her in too?"
"I did, yes…One minute. You know her?"
"I do. It's a story for another time. She's working with me now, a few days a week. She told me that I could trust you, but...I suppose I needed more convincing than that."
Áine is busy with her daughter, and I'm busy with Eli. We don't have much time to write to each other at present, but it's good to know she's doing well.
"Anyhow...back to the reason you came here in the first place, no doubt...You want to get your own back at Annorin, don't you? So do half of Henford."
"Indeed, but I don't know how close I can get to him. You're the closest tie I have to the man, and you hate him just as much. What I do know from a little listening-in around Finchwick is that he tends to hold an anniversary celebration near the autumn at his mansion- a celebration of the anniversary of him starting his business, that is. Invites only."
Interesting. Here I am thinking maybe a birthday, or a marriage anniversary, then I forget there's only one thing Annorin loves- and it certainly isn't his family.
There's a fire in my chest when she mentions it. It'd mean having to suck up to the man in an attempt to get a place at the celebration, but as well as deal with Annorin, it gave me an opportunity to trial what I was thinking about earlier...No-one there would know me well enough to question it- except Annorin, who'd be far too busy with everyone's nose a mile up his rear to notice.
Can I really bring myself to do it, though? I know what the nobility think about such things. In their eyes, you are what you are born as, you are what your parents tell you that you are. Anything else is a monstrous deviation. What would make them more uncomfortable, I wonder- a man in a dress, or a bloodsucking monster?
"I might have a way into that, possibly. In fact, I might even be able to convince him to invite you as well, if you so wanted..."
Katlego lets out a cackle. "Are you serious?"
"I am, actually. What better way to dismantle it all than at his own celebration?"
"It's not just about getting my own back for what he did to me, Oskar..."
I give her a smug grin. I'm not entirely convinced that's the case, but either way...
"I only have one condition if we're to work together on this, Oskar."
"Which is?"
"Don't kill him."
What? What does she mean? After everything he did to her? To the children? To everyone in Henford?
"All of that blood on his hands, and you want me to spare him?! Are you mad?"
"No, I'm not. That's why I'm asking you not to kill him. I want to make a point to everyone about him. I want to make him look a fool in front of all the people that would otherwise monetarily support him."
"Ah, that's it, isn't it? Make the rich man look a fool...That won't stop him, Katlego. The only way you'll get what you deserve and he'll get what he deserves is if he dies."
"Oskar-"
"I spent many years as a soldier in the Bloodmoon War, Katlego. I've killed hundreds of people, all of whom more than deserved it. Pacifism will never save the witches. It didn't save the vampires, nor did it save the werewolves. All of us are only alive today because our ancestors fought tooth and claw for our survival."
The look she gives me...
"And how do you feel about that, Oskar? All of that blood on your-"
"I don't feel anything. I'll do what I have to to ensure my own survival and that of my friends, my family and my people." I try to soften my tone. "I understand that you think it's bad, or a 'slippery slope'...but you must realise that pacifism isn't always the moral decision. If you aren't going to fight for the good of those that you love, then you may as well go and stand by the likes of Annorin, the witchfinders..."
She didn't like that answer, and she's about to leave.
"I'm not going to pretend I understand what you've been through, Oskar, but if we work together on this, then Annorin lives. Is that understood?"
I say nothing. I'm making no promises.
"If all you want to do is heckle him in front of his rich friends, Katlego, then I can't help but think this is more about pettiness than it is about wanting to genuinely put a stop to him. If Annorin dies, then all the more income for you- and people can actually afford your remedies."
"That's precisely the mentality Annorin had when he tried to drive me out of Henford. Not to mention I'm one of the lucky ones. A healer from Withernham I believe was murdered by him."
"All the more reason to put your morals to one side for-"
"Annorin survives. That's final."
I don't accept it without a deep, audible sigh. I write down the address for her, and she leaves without another word.
As for Annorin, I figure I ought to write him a letter...I don't know if he cares for his son's progress at all, but it's a possible way into his home. All I need is one invite. Even if it isn't to his celebration, well, a bat can easily slip through his window the second time once I'm in for the first time...
"Herr Nivelheim. Good evening. Come on in."
Perfect.
I feign as much small talk as I can. The weather, busy day, how are you...and just as I'm about to audibly gasp at how ugly the entire place is, I force myself to say something positive.
"Oh, look at this place! So...opulent!"
I want to be sick. It might even make the carpet look nicer.
"Isn't it just? All of my hard work has paid off. I'm sure you know all about hard work, Herr Nivelheim...that is, if you even are who say you are."
Excuse me?
"I beg your pardon?"
"Perhaps we ought to discuss this over a snack," Annorin says, in a dry tone. There's something oddly out-of-place about his kitchen. There's a pecular modernity to it. He offers me an orange. Out of false politeness, I take it, but I don't eat it without grimacing. Citrus is an assault to the senses.
"Is there a reason you're sitting on my countertop?"
"It helps me think. So, why do you think I'm not who I say I am, pray tell?"
That sniggering sound. If only I didn't sense magic in his blood. I'd tear out his throat just to make it stop.
"I've been thinking to myself about how something just doesn't add up. The last time anyone majorly hears of the Nivelheim name is more than one hundred years ago. I have a number of 'your family's pieces, and yet I've not heard a peep out of that lineage until you came along. More than one hundred years of silence from one of the best woodworking families in Windenburg, then nothing, not even mentions of the lineage...and then you show up."
Of course. He, like his son, put two and two together and figured out that something wasn't right. Now doesn't seem the right time to reveal myself to him. Later on, possibly.
"Don't you think sometimes, families want something different then what their ancestors did?"
"And you just so happen to pick it back up so many years later?"
I keep eyeing the broken heart mug on the rack. Everywhere I look, this place is a nauseating combination of gaudiness and tackiness simultaneously.
"It's not terribly unrealistic, is it? I read of my ancestors and their success and became inspired. Just because nobility don't break away from tradition, it doesn't mean the rest of us don't either."
"I see." He's not entirely convinced, but he knows he's not getting an answer in any more depth.
"Anyhow, about your son's progress, he's doing fantastic. Earning a fair bit, too. I think you'd be very proud of him."
Nothing. No response. I want to smash those mugs over his head. I'd be doing both him and the mugs a favour.
"Well...I also hear that you're having some kind of a celebration soon? The anniversary of your business? That sounds like quite the get-together, especially for something so important to Henford..."
Watcher, I hate sucking up, but I'm just far too good at covering my true emotions (or lack thereof) up at this point...sort of. I've spent so many years, from childhood onwards, trying to work out what responses were expected of me from people who apparently knew the unspoken social rules as if they were innate- and it's almost paying off.
"Indeed, here, at my home. Now that you're here, Herr Nivelheim, I believe that I might even owe you an invite... You seem to be into extravagance, maybe you'd enjoy it, not to mention you've done me a favour taking that useless boy off my hands..."
An invite? Straight away? Like that? Unexpected, but no complaints. After what he said about Eli...Right now, he would look wonderful if he had shards of porcelain sticking out of his eyes.
"...if you can prove to me that you are who you say you are."
I clear my throat.
"If you want to find an authentic Nivelheim piece from back in the family's heyday, then you look for the seemingly-random slit or dent in the wood. It was left there by Lorelei and Johann's toddler, who would try 'helping' with a hammer and saw. Instead of ditching the project and punishing their child, they merely considered it a family contribution, and it became a beloved part of the old work that was kept up right until their passing. How's that for proof?"
He looks taken aback. Whether that's because my knowledge surprised him or he's seen right through me, time will only tell. "Well, you're certainly knowledgeable enough...Perhaps I was wrong to doubt you. Consider yourself invited, if you wish. I'll keep you updated on the dates."
Wonderful. Everything is falling into place, much easier than I expected it to. As for Katlego, well, I have a little something up my sleeve. Let's try it out.
"I hear Katlego Anansi is back in Henford...rumours of her, anyhow. Must be a nuisance for you."
"Urgh. Don't even speak to me about her," he retorts. "That woman is a thorn in my side. Over these past few years, the people of Henford have turned on me. Even the Peteran priest and the Jacoban High Shepherd don't know anything of her whereabouts- even the Jacobans are protective of this woman! All because the people of Henford could afford her cures and not mine, and they believe that I framed her and had her removed because of 'competition.' Pfft! Competition? Her pennies could never compare to my billions.
Would I waste my precious time and energy on small fry? I don't get the people of Henford, Oskar- expect everything to be bloody handed to them on a silver platter. I worked for my money. I don't see why they can't. If only they had a Windenburg work ethic, hm? Maybe their children would still be alive if they did."
Be civil. Be civil. Be civil. Be civil.
"You know, if you want to drive her out a second time, it's not impossible. Not if you invite her to your celebration, that is."
His eyes look like they're about to pop out of his skull.
"Invite her? I don't want a poor woman in my house. Not unless she's cleaning my shoes and my dishes, that is."
"My, my, settle down," I reply, laughing. It's clearly grating on him. Now he knows how it feels.
"Think about it. Katlego probably wants some kind of revenge on you. So you invite her here, in the hall of the elites, where the outside rules don't matter, and you do whatever it takes to get rid of her..."
"That's incredibly cold, Oskar."
"You're a billionaire. If you haven't learned by now that you need to be cold to get ahead..."
He nods to himself. "Keep an eye out for her, then. She stands out. Tattoos, black hair, dark eyes. Usually in some kind of dress. Her accent stands out, but I'm not sure where it's from."
"I'll keep my eyes peeled," I reply, before he walks me around his house, giving me a backstory right down to every speck of dust on the windowsills.
"There's something I've been meaning to ask you, Annorin. You see, I hear from the books I've read about your medical knowledge that some people suspect you use a little magic. Is that so?"
His eyebrows almost fall off of his face.
"Oh, don't worry. I'm not going to tell anyone, am I? I'm not going to snitch on the person who keeps the candles lit."
He shivers a little. "I'm a descendant of witches from many years ago. My magic is nowhere near as powerful as a witch's, but that's a good thing. Allows me to blend in and avoid the witchfinders. I care little for their plight, so long as my safety is not affected. I'm not like the witches, anyhow."
"Oh? One of the good ones, are you?"
"Excuse me?"
I have to. I have to bite. I can't be here and not bite. What's he going to do to me?
I can't stop laughing. "It's just a little comical how those who descended from the witches are more than happy to let them burn in their place, is all-"
"Don't you dare insult me under my own roof!"
I switch back to my saccharine voice, just for him.
"Insult you? My, no, I was just making an observation-"
"Well, from now on, keep your observations to yourself. As you said, I am the reason you have a roof over your head."
"Ah, I was just being polite," I reply. "The reason I have a roof over my head is from my own honest hard work. And if you stopped paying me, then you'd have to have your 'useless' son back under your roof. Is that what you want, Annorin?"
He says nothing. I do love seeing him gobsmacked.
"And you do want me to keep an eyeout for Miss Anansi, don't you?"
A reluctant nod.
"Thank you for having me, Annorin. I sincerely apologise if I spoiled such a lovely even-"
"Yes, yes...Just keep an eye out for Katlego, will you?"
As I leave, I feel an uncontrollable smile rise. Easier than I thought. That was a lot of fun. It'll be even more fun at the party, whenever it is.
And when both Katlego and I make an appearance there...
...the smug bastard won't know what hit him.