The first thing Ryan did upon entering Mourne was make amends to his stomach, which had suffered through two rushed meals in the hurry to leave Birkoff.
Now that I actually have money, maybe I'll try to find some rice.
He ate until he was reasonably satisfied, though a nagging feeling lingered. He hadn't gone hungry, exactly — but it had been a long time since he'd seen a familiar bowl of plain white rice, and the absence sat quietly wrong.
He made a mental note and continued toward the out-of-the-way room he'd rented on the eastern edge of the city. It had been over half a month, but the big lug had paid the rent by the month to avoid complications, so the room hadn't necessarily been reclaimed yet.
The problem was that Ryan couldn't remember exactly what day the payment had been made — which was why he hadn't bothered making the trip back before deciding to return to Mourne. But now that he was here, it was worth a look. If the rent wasn't due yet, he'd save himself some trouble.
He hadn't gotten close before he stopped.
There was a sound of breathing coming from inside.
Before he could work out what that meant, the breathing cut off abruptly. A soft, melodious voice drifted down from the eaves beside him.
"How lovely to meet you, Ass... ass... in... Mister."
The final word came one syllable at a time — impossible to tell whether it was deliberate gravity or the satisfied lilt of someone who had caught a person in the act. It turned what was already a sweet, gentle voice into something oddly captivating.
Ryan recoiled and looked up sharply. His every instinct had been screaming — and then he saw the figure standing on the frost-edged eave, and a single regretful thought passed through his mind:
Pity it's so cold. No chance of a view from below.
The woman alighted with easy grace, lightly lifting her skirt hem and dipping into a small, elegant curtsy before introducing herself:
"Tina Edith. An unlicensed Extraordinaire — and the seller of the Shadow Poison Flower you purchased."
Her light-brown hair fell smoothly down her back. Her green eyes caught the light like cut gemstones. Flawless features, a perfect complexion, and a smile that made no effort at concealment.
Ryan had seen plenty of attractive people online back in his old world. And yet he had to acknowledge, standing here, that this woman had genuinely caught him off guard.
Last time I was this flustered was the first time I sat next to a pretty girl in high school.
His mind continued wandering. It didn't stop him from taking a slow breath, looking away from her direct gaze, and asking:
"Miss Edith, what brings you to find me?"
What relieved him was that she didn't respond with Can't I just want to see you? — which would have made him certain something was wrong, however she looked.
Tina Edith let the brilliant smile settle into something quieter, and turned to give him her back.
"It's hardly gentlemanly to hold a conversation with a lady in a place like this, Mr. John."
Ryan very much wanted to ask what exactly constituted a lady about someone who had just appeared silently above his head. But given the twenty-odd meters between their current positions and where she'd materialized, he kept his mouth shut.
And I didn't hear her breathing until I was this close. Was she trying to startle me? Or does whatever ability she used to get here require enough concentration that she couldn't spare any attention to control her breathing?
He followed her, thinking it through.
The short walk of twenty-some meters grew stranger with every step.
She was dressed entirely practically — white jacket, white trousers, white boots, with a grey turtleneck covering even her neck. It should have looked layered and modest, and on anyone else it would have. Instead, it somehow made her appear more charming, more approachable. There was, objectively speaking, nothing here to distract with — so why did he keep getting distracted?
Edith reached the door, tucked both hands into her pockets, a faint smile at the corner of her mouth, and stood to one side waiting.
Now she decides to have manners, Ryan thought, climbing up to retrieve the key from where it was hidden.
He unlocked the door and gestured for her to go first. One should always be polite — especially when dealing with someone who could clearly handle themselves far better than you could.
She took the room's only chair without hesitation. Ryan looked around — everything was exactly as he'd left it — and was mildly baffled to find that closing a door had somehow made his pulse noticeably faster.
Something is wrong with this woman.
He sat on the edge of the bed, looked once at the mysterious woman watching him with an easy smile and no apparent intention of speaking first, looked away, and opened the conversation himself:
"Miss Edith, are you a member of some Extraordinary organization?"
Otherwise there was no reason to track him down after the sale. She couldn't be having second thoughts about the hundred and thirty pounds.
"More than that. Every member of the organization I belong to was once an Assassin. The formula you received may well have originated with us — if you bought it at the lower end of the market."
Watching Ryan give a small nod without looking up, Edith's smile grew warmer.
"I think you also understand that the seven major Churches sit very high above everything else, and regard every Extraordinaire who doesn't worship their gods as a potential threat. It isn't just solitary unlicensed individuals — even organizations of considerable size find themselves in difficult straits, forced to operate in the shadows, needing to be extraordinarily careful about bringing in new members."
As she said it, she let the smile fade slightly and sighed.
That does sound hard. Though if I were the Church, I'd probably do the same thing, Ryan thought — and caught himself glancing over at Edith, who had briefly taken on a somewhat pitiful air, before asking directly:
"Miss Edith, if I wanted to join this organization, what would be required of me?"
To his surprise, she shook her head and laughed softly.
"There's no rush. You're only Sequence 9 — that's too low. Joining now wouldn't benefit either of us. I came today simply to make contact. You're free to treat this as nothing more than me wanting to make a little money off you. And unlike the Church, we don't mind sharing some basic knowledge about potions with unlicensed Extraordinaires. Such as... the method for preventing them from losing control and becoming monsters."
At that last part, Edith turned to look directly at him — as if watching for his reaction.
Ryan had been privately debating whether to let her get away with implying he was too weak, given how good that smile looked. He felt her gaze and asked, a little guiltily:
"Miss Edith — does this method have something to do with the potion's name?"
"Hm? You've already worked that out, Mr. John?" For the first time, Edith's normally serene voice carried a note of genuine surprise.
There's something wrong with this woman — even her nasally vowels are attractive, Ryan thought, and asked:
"So the sensation — that feeling of something dissolving and merging with you, which comes after behaving in a way consistent with the potion's name — that's the potion's latent danger gradually disappearing?"
"Exactly right. You've genuinely surprised me, Mr. John. If I'm remembering correctly, you've been an Extraordinaire for less than a month."