Book 3: Chapter 15 - An Unusually Pleasant Captive (Patreon)

It doesn’t matter how kind someone seems.It doesn’t matter how understanding, or how gentle, or how caring.You don’t know a person until you’ve seen someone they care about outed as an abuser.The quality of a person’s character will face no greater test.They will protect the vulnerable or they will protect their friend.Or their idol. Or their favorite teacher. Or just someone they think is too fucking pretty to criticize.If they don’t choose the vulnerable first, they were never actually kind. —Aubrey Clarke

Kiera was obviously shaken at first, but her talent for... self-soothing had the fox joking and laughing by the time Violet got her back to the dorms. Violet couldn’t be certain, but she thought the night had actually done a lot to sell Kiera on the plan. Which was good, because Cyan’s letter meant restructuring and accelerating it. That was fine. Violet just didn’t want Kiera turning on her because she hadn’t prepped her fox for it. Which would almost certainly happen in one way or another. Little White Lies wasn’t foolproof, after all.

But participating in Violet’s extracurriculars had given the fox a deeper personal investment in Violet’s innocence. Which meant Kiera would use her talent to cover any doubts, and all would be well. It was a bit annoying that Violet had to go all the way back to campus just to leave again, but she couldn’t very well have a record of Kiera riding the train back. 

All in all, the night had gone off without a hitch. The intruder in the stairwell was inconvenient, yes. But not unexpected. Whoever that woman had been, she’d all but confirmed her complicity with Jacob in a single word. Exactly as Violet believed. No one cared if the man had disposed of a girl if that child had a Nightshade calling. Everyone was all the same. She was sure the corpse would appear in her dreams with the rest of them, but she was used to that. It had been worth it.

She finally arrived back at the storage facility in the red district. It wasn’t a perfect prison, but it would work well enough. It was private, at least. And the red crystal on the containers would keep any sound from escaping. It wasn’t a well-traveled facility in any case, and the cameras were obviously fake. At least, it was obvious to Violet’s perception. Even better, she didn’t even need to make contact with another person to rent the unit. All she needed was an empathy ring to verify her identity and cash she was able to feed to a machine. 

She made it to the unit she’d rented, a bag of bread and bottled water in one hand. There was no sound inside, so her captive was still unconscious. Kiera really had outdone herself trapping the man. While Violet had needed to open the door and knock him unconscious, he’d already been caged and far from likely witnesses at that point. And anyone who spotted him? They’d have seen no more than a drunk man chasing a cat. Nothing to alert the police over. Finally, Violet had managed a kill despite the sentinel someone had left with her target. She honestly could have handled this one regardless, since it was in the red district. But she couldn’t have easily captured one of the watchers. Not without an even worse risk of being seen than with the street vendor. That fuck-up had been bad enough, and she was glad to not repeat it. 

In any case, that was the real accomplishment. She would find out who these people were, and it wouldn’t even be that difficult. 

First, however, she needed to check her empathy ring. She’d been busy all night, and she really was dying to see if anything had changed. She was fairly certain it hadn’t, but she’d been stuck at the same degree for so long that she was getting a bit obsessive about tracking her growth. She understood that perception was a bit spoiled of her. Going from white to yellow in so short a time only happened in fairy tales and on snowy days. Even so, it was an addictive feeling. She found herself pressing her hand into the well next to the unit’s roller door.

To her chagrin, the same information she’d been looking at for weeks crawled across the surface in various branches.

Violet AsherCategory [Yellow]Calling <Reaper>Degree {3}

AttributesAgility (323)Constitution (178)Dexterity (282)Endurance (201)Perception (414)Resistance (240)Strength (146)Bloodlust (722)

It wasn’t unimpressive, exactly. She’d been steadily climbing from yellow one for the past few months. But she was definitely feeling the exponential clarity cost to continue climbing. She knew she didn’t feel any different, but she’d been hoping anyway. It was disappointing, but not surprising. Finally, she sighed and put the code into the padlock on the door.

As she slid it up, she saw her unconscious captive inside. He had a thick chain around his neck, with the other end nailed into the stone floor with a large spike. She’d considered building an entire cage for him. Then she’d realized that would be even more difficult to get through the district unnoticed than an unconscious body. It was fine. The man had no particularly impressive talents, and his strength was too low to even force the door open. He wouldn’t escape when she opened the door. She would be there, after all. So far, the only Category Red Violet knew of who’d ever overpowered a yellow lancer was… well. Violet. 

She stepped to the side of the door, picked up the folding chair and the bucket she’d leaned against the wall, and brought them inside before closing the door. This made it dark, but she could see the man on the floor easily enough. It wasn’t an airtight container, and small amounts of light made it through the cracks in the door. With her perception, that was more than enough. Finally, she set the bucket in the far corner and unfolded her chair. 

She sat down, crossing her legs and her arms. Then she extended Quiet Ivy to the unconscious body, lifted it by one arm, and just... shook it until she got a response. 

The captive wasn’t immediately responsive, so she pulled him closer and slapped him across the face. He immediately jolted awake, collapsing to the warm concrete as she let him go. It was extremely hot in there, Violet realized. She’d need to buy a generator and a fan. Maybe a light, too. She didn’t want the man harming himself. Not this particular man, anyway. She had plans for him. 

He scrambled away from her, opening his mouth to shout but coughing instead.

“Oh, sorry about that. I had some medicine to give you while you were napping. I had to kinda force the pill down. Don’t worry about it, I don’t think I did any damage yet,” she apologized. 

The man froze. His eyes darted around the hot container for several seconds before landing on her silhouette. She was shrouded in darkness, but visible enough that he could gape at her. Violet wondered if he’d try attacking her, or if he'd make an escape attempt. But wild eyes settled, and the man calmed down. He leaned his back against the far wall and buried his face in his hands.

“Oh, fuck,” he whispered.

“Afraid so,” Violet consoled. She’d had an entire speech planned for him when she woke him up, but he wasn’t nearly as panicked as she expected. So she decided to simply wait for him to speak, and she’d ask her questions when he was done. If she was being honest, she thought he was kind of funny.  

He leaned his head back against the wall and took a sharp breath. He bit his lip, then finally forced his first question out. 

“Who are you?” he asked.

Violet was impressed. He wasn’t begging or pleading. And he wasn’t pissing himself—which would’ve been rude, after she’d brought him a bucket and everything. So she smiled as she answered. She was certain that would be reassuring. “You can call me... Ivy,” she answered.

The man froze and lifted his head again, his eyes widening in apparent horror. Still, he didn’t panic. “Shit,” he said. 

“I’m afraid so,” Violet repeated. “And you are?”

“Demetri,” he answered with a sigh. “Am I going to die?” 

Violet pursed her lips before answering. She uncrossed her legs, then crossed them again on the other side. “I’m not sure yet, Demetri. I guess that depends on you,” she answered.

Demetri rested both arms on his knees as he processed that. He idly touched the steel collar chaining him to the floor as he seemed to consider his response. “Oh,” he replied. “I guess I figured it was up to you, since you’re the serial killer.”

Violet snorted at the response. The interrogation was, admittedly, going differently than she’d planned. But she was kind of glad. This was a lot more interesting, though. So the laugh in her response was genuine. “You got me there,” she agreed. “You’re funny. Honestly, I hope I don’t have to kill you. Maybe we can go out sometime after this.”

Demetri squinted at her, then wrinkled his nose. “Is that a Chromatic uniform? I guess that makes sense, with all the rumors. I’m not really into the schoolgirl thing, sorry.” He was obviously growing more confident as she responded positively. Violet didn’t know if this was calculated or if the man was simply insane, but it was fun regardless.

“Pity, but fair enough. Don’t worry, though. I famously take rejection well,” she sighed.

“Well, that’s a relief,” Demetri responded. There was a slight quiver in his voice, and Violet frowned as she realized it was definitely calculated. He wasn’t sure how seriously to take her, and he was very much afraid that he’d push too far. It was just obvious she liked that flavor of response, so he was trying to stay alive. That wasn’t quite as fun, but his bravery was still admirable. He’d definitely earned some kind of air conditioning, if he kept being a good boy.

“Is that all you want to know?” Violet pushed.

Demetri shrugged. “I’d like to know what kind of pill you gave me, but it’s not actually my first concern,” he answered.

“Not a love potion, apparently. You’ll just have to keep narrowing it down,” Violet suggested.

The captive set his jaw. “Do you do this to everyone you kill?” he asked.

“Well, that’s basically the same as your first question, isn’t it?” Violet asked. “In effect, anyway. But I suppose the answer does vary, so I’ll allow it. I have never done this to anyone I’ve killed, and I’ve never killed anyone I’ve done this to. Does that make you more comfortable?”

“So I’ll be your first, then?” Demetri guessed.

Violet uncrossed her legs and leaned forward with a pout. “Well, that is certainly not a proper question to ask a lady!” she protested.

“Apologies. That was crass,” Demetri intoned. He simply refused to get flustered, and it was only entertaining Violet more. If nothing else, this man could read her well. “In that case, nope. I’m all out of questions.”

“That’s surprising,” Violet replied. “You don’t want to know why I brought you here? Where you are? How long my hair is in centimeters?”

“I’d love to know all of those, sure. But I’m afraid to ask, if I’m being completely honest. And I suspect the first will be answered for me regardless. One way or another. I’m hoping that you were lonely and wanted a lifelong friend, but I’m not putting my money on it,” he deadpanned.

“Because I’m a serial killer?” Violet guessed.

“Because you’re so amiable,” Demetri answered. “You obviously have plenty of friends already.”

“Well, that's true,” Violet agreed. “But there is still a chance this will be a lifelong relationship, if that helps.”

Demetri tensed, but stubbornly refused to panic. “On second thought, I think I'd prefer a brief but mutually beneficial relationship. What can I do for you?” he questioned.

Violet leaned forward and rested her elbow on one knee, supporting her chin with the same hand. “Now that… that is the question I was waiting for,” she replied. “Honestly, it was quite rude that it took you so long. I am your guest here, after all.”

“I promise to reflect on my sins,” Demetri easily agreed. 

“And I promise to get you some sort of air conditioning in here. See? We're helping each other already,” Violet replied. “Now. For the time being, what I want is simple. Tell me what you were doing in that alley, and who you are working for.”

“Oh, sure,” Demetri immediately complied. “I was keeping an eye on that Jacob asshole for Cyan Asher.”

Violet paused. That had been far too easy. “So not a loyal one, then,” she mused. “Or you're lying.” Although, strangely, she didn't believe either was the case.

Demetri shook his head. “I was explicitly told to tell that to anyone who asks,” he explained. Then he paused. “Not that story specifically. I was instructed to tell the truth and not hide anything. Mr. Asher apparently didn't believe the cops would care, and...” He trailed off.

“And?” Violet pushed.

“And he said if anyone else asked, it would be funny.”

Violet stared at the man for a long moment. Then, much to her extreme annoyance, she started laughing hysterically.