9-

 

Locke had barely recognized he was in the same field of ashes when a hand smacked him in the face.

 

“What the fuck was that for?!” Locke demanded, glaring surprised at a downright PISSED Aelar.

 

“Oh, gee, let me think. Maybe, I don’t know, FALLING OFF A ROOF?” Aelar snapped, red eyes smoldering, and smacked him again.

 

“STOP THAT!” Locke snapped.

 

Aelar didn’t. Instead, he punched him in the stomach. Hard.

 

“I’m here for a REASON, Locke! Not so you can prance around and be in eternal servitude to Pretty, not so you run around Vascun, not so you fucking LIQUEFY Conduti,” Aelar ranted. “Nicotine or Chocolate’, he says. Might as well say puree or flambé. Shit, kid, WAKE UP.”

 

“Hey, since when can you hit me?” Locke suddenly asked, and Aelar’s rant crashed to the ground.

 

“Huh.” Aelar frowned, and poked Locke in the shoulder. “This is new.” Locke poked him back.

 

“Damn is that clothing thin,” Locke muttered, and Aelar winked at him.

 

“All for you, baby,” he grinned viciously.

 

“Not tonight, Aelar, please,” Locke sighed, and just plopped down on the ashes below. They whirled about him like angry fireflies in reverse, but Locke ignored them, choosing to fully stretch himself out on the tarnished earth.

 

“Hey, kid, you feeling okay?” Aelar frowned, and Locke snorted.

 

“I’m tired as fuck, and I’ve got to deal with YOU right now, and hell if I know what Aidenai’s gonna want in return for helping me. Damn reciprocity.” Locke sighed. “I just want a night to sleep. Is that so much to ask?”

 

“Yes, apparently,” Aelar sighed along with him. “Well, assuming you won’t let me take over, that is.”

 

“What do you mean?” Locke frowned at him, and with that same elegant twist of his wrist Aelar had made ashes swirl about into a screen that showed the outer world.

 

Aidenai was carrying him somewhere, and from the way his hair was bouncing around he was going pretty damn fast.

 

“Fuck.”

 

“Fuck indeed,” Aelar agreed. “I can’t hear what’s going on without someone being awake to do it, so I don’t know who’s chasing us.”

 

“I’m going,” Locke sighed, and stood up from the ground.

 

“Just don’t kill people with such style, okay kid? Explode them or squeeze them or something. No more liquefying. It tires you out too fast.”

 

“Got it,” Locke nodded, and watched as the world around him faded.

 

 

He opened his eyes to see Aidenai carrying him bridal style through alleyways and city streets, eyes closed of all things as he navigated Vascun’s infamously confusing streets. There were small spatters of blood on his once pristine white coat, but from what Locke had seen the assassin was used to it, not to mention damned efficient at fixing the thing.

 

“Who we running from?” Locke managed to garble out, trying to ignore the fact his hands were clenched in Aidenai’s clothing and his head was resting comfortably against his chest.

 

“I don’t know. They saw you falling and almost as soon as I caught you were chasing after us,” he said quickly, turning another corner. “Can you run?”

 

“Probably not,” Locke groaned when he tried to move. Every muscle and vein in his body felt like he’d just atrophied. “I can barely talk.”

 

“LOCKE! YOU OKAY?” An all-too familiar voice called out, and his head shot up.

 

“DANTE?!” Locke nearly shrieked. Hey, it was unexpected, okay? Damn confusing, too…

 

Aidenai skidded to a halt, not even breathing hard. “Not a threat?”

 

“To me, at least,” Locke grunted as he tried to remove his hands. “Fuck, I’m tired.”

 

Aidenai, in his infinite wisdom, managed to reposition the thief so that he was now in a fireman’s hold, slung over his shoulder. Pain shot through Locke, and he retaliated with a slur of curse words that he was pretty sure would set Dante to stuttering. Poor kid.

 

And, with his new view, Locke’s eyes finally met startled green in a nineteen-year-old face, decked out in the same gray and blue Issued outfit that matched Locke’s in reverse, that same short, wavy blonde hair making him look like some pure, princely sort of person. Locke was too exhausted to think up better adjectives, though, since all his brain really registered then was ‘Hey, look! It’s DANTE! Crazy!’

 

“Hey, Dante,” Locke muttered, head falling back down and smacking against Aidenai’s chest. “You can put me down now, Corpse.”

 

“You’d fall over.” Aidenai’s amused voice was blurry.

 

“That’s why I’ll SIT, bitch,” Locke growled, and Aidenai complied, setting him against the alley wall with almost unnerving gentleness.

 

“Dante, what the hell are you doing here?” Locke sighed, head resting against the dark brick.

 

“I saw Shadows, remembered you were here in Vascun, and knowing the trouble magnet you are figured I’d follow them and save you…again,” Dante shrugged, trying not to grin and failing miserably.

 

“Hah. Very funny,” Locke snorted. “Truth now, or else I’ll do…something.”

 

“You’re exhausted,” Dante sighed, shaking his head.

 

“No, really? Coulda fooled me!” Locke snapped, and Dante just chuckled, hands resting on his hips- “NO, Dante!”

 

And one of Aidenai’s swords was out of its hidden sheath and at Dante’s throat before Locke’s words were completely spoken. Annoyed green eyes flicked to Locke as Dante stayed completely still. “You owe me,” he stated.

 

“I owe everyone,” Locke grumbled, and turned his eyes to Aidenai. “Down, Corpse. He’s not a threat.”

 

“Well, that’s good to know,” the assassin said pleasantly, not moving. “Now, I’m sorry, but I’d like it if someone told me what’s going on.”

 

“Aidenai, meet Dante.” Locke snorted.

 

“I already got that part, thank you,” Aidenai stated, and Locke sighed.

 

“Aidenai, assassin extraordinaire, meet Dante, soldier and younger brother sort of thing, except not...it’s confusing.”

 

Aidenai stepped backwards, bowing slightly. “Sorry, Dante. It seems you have bad timing,” he apologized.

 

“You’re really polite, huh?” Dante blinked at him.

 

Aidenai smiled dryly. “I try.”

 

“Well, now that you’ve both pulled your heads out of your respective asses, I repeat. What the hell are you doing here?” Locke snapped.

 

Dante shrugged. “Sage said to make sure you were okay every few hours. We do worry, you know.”

 

“Really. You know, I’ve been just fine for three years all by myself, I don’t think your random appearance will do anything to change that,” Locke growled. Both Aidenai and Dante gave him knowing looks, and he glared at the two. “Shut up.”

 

“Anyway, I’m also supposed to stall you until Sage gets here,” Dante shrugged.

 

“And expertly done,” that damn annoying, perfectly melodious voice that Locke felt like an idiot for never realizing was just WAITING to lead a nation, echoed through the alley as the blue-haired man disengaged from the shadows and grinned at the three as he approached. Today, he was wearing his beige duster with the ornate green scrollwork that rolled around the edges of it. “Hi again, Sweet. How you feeling?” His purple eyes flicked to Aidenai. “And who’s this guy?”

 

“Aidenai, meet Sage. He’s, uh, Sage.” That was the best way to describe him, after all. “Don’t get near him when you’re drunk.” An all-around good rule, Locke decided.

 

Sage grinned at him, nodding politely. “A hard-earned lesson if ever there was one,” he said, completely breaking the regal image with a smirk and wink towards Locke, who groaned. The blue-haired man turned back towards the assassin. “Be grateful you’re on Locke’s ‘Don’t touch’ list, or you’d be-”

 

“SAGE!” Locke snapped, and Sage let out a melodramatic, tortured sigh.

 

“You are NO fun, have I told you that recently?”

 

“I think so, yeah,” Locke muttered dryly.

 

“Pleasure to meet you,” Aidenai said, not even looking at the blue-haired man as he quickly stared straight into Locke’s eyes. “Can you move yet?”

 

“Enough to do this,” Locke growled, and managed to flip him off.

 

“Well, that’s encouraging,” Aidenai commented, and helped the thief to his feet, hooking an arm under his shoulder and allowing Locke’s hand to circle his neck. “Do you two mind if we move this to a more hospitable location?”

 

“Of course not,” Sage beamed, and Dante shrugged.

 

“So, Locke, what’d you do this time?” Dante asked conversationally as he took Locke’s other arm.

 

“None of your damn business,” Locke muttered darkly as they began a slow walk down the street.

 

“Did you overdose on chocolate, maybe?” Sage chuckled, and the other three were rather surprised to see that yes, The Hidden Flute was right in front of them, miracle of miracles.

 

“Oh, thank you,” Locke sighed, the simple thought of CHOCOLATE rolling around his brain. “Chocolate, love of my life, star of my heart, bliss in a spoon…”

 

“…Locke?” Aidenai asked, shaking him a bit.

 

“He does this,” Sage shrugged, taking the chocoholic’s current tunnel vision to his advantage as he was suddenly VERY close to the assassin. “Chocolate’s his alcohol.”

 

“And I assume that’s from a long acquaintance with you?” Aidenai asked politely…or it SEEMED polite, at least. Sage grinned viciously at him.

 

“VERY long.” Aidenai just blinked at Sage’s innuendo. “Best ACQUAINTANCE of my life, actually…Not that I haven’t tried to find better…”

 

“Please, not when I can hear,” Dante groaned, shaking his head.

 

“Tell me, how intimately acquainted are YOU with him?” Sage asked innocently, even though his purple eyes were positively glinting with ill intent.

 

“I’ve known him for a rather short period of time,” Aidenai stated, a steel smile on his lips. “Must say he’s interesting, though.”

 

“HA! Interesting, he says,” Dante laughed. “Understatement of the year, if you ask me.”

 

“And you know how we all jump at that opportunity,” Sage snorted, only to wince as a rock smacked him in the head. “Don’t DO that!”

 

“You were asking for it!”

 

“You’re like some bar joke,” Locke murmured giddily, and the other three blinked at him. “A soldier, an assassin, and a politician walk into a bar. Heeeheheheh…”

 

“Uh…Locke?” Dante asked, nudging him with his hip. When the black-haired man didn’t respond, he turned to Aidenai. “Seriously, what’d he do? The last time I saw him like this was…well, a kind of strange aftermath.”

 

“He liquefied a Conduti,” Aidenai shrugged.

 

“Ah,” Sage said, nodding knowingly. “The old liquefication ploy.” He grinned. “He must have REALLY wanted to make sure the guy was dead.”

 

“Girl, actually.”

 

“Ahh,” the other two said simultaneously. Aidenai blinked at them.

 

“I’m sorry, but what does that mean? ‘Ahh’?”

 

“Locke’s got a…thing,” Dante said, waving a hand in the air as if the word ‘thing’ was self-explanatory.

 

“Phobia,” Sage supplied.

 

“That’s it! Locke’s got a phobia of girl Conduti. Don’t know why, but he tends to kind of kill them in more extravagant ways than guys,” Dante shrugged, and Locke grumbled something unintelligible under his breath.

 

“How long have you known him?” Sage asked, and Aidenai blinked again.

 

“Not very long, like I said,” he stated, and Sage sighed.

 

“Aidenai…please. I’m asking as a brothery thing,” he cajoled.

 

“And as another brothery thing, I’m telling you not to answer,” Dante added, glaring at Sage. “See that guy to your right? A blue-haired, purple-eyed SEX DEVIL. Don’t trust him.”

 

“Slut,” Locke murmured in agreement, head bobbing.

 

“See? Even Locke thinks so,” Dante smiled dotingly on the thief.

 

“They’re all against me,” Sage accused, opening the front door of The Hidden Flute for the three connected men to maneuver through. “And it’s Sex GOD, not devil. Make it sound like I’m bad at it or something.”

 

The blue-haired man led the expedition over to Locke’s familiar booth, a concerned Palma quickly making her way over. “Chocolate?”

 

“Chocolate,” Locke nodded, eyes closed as he leaned on whatever he could get. In this case, it was Aidenai, who the thief figured was probably too polite to grope him without permission, unlike practically every other person at the table. Sage would do it for fun, Dante would do it just because he was downright mean when Locke was incapacitated, and Palma would have just joined in on the party because she was that kind of girl. He sighed as the familiar Hidden Flute Chocolate ice cream was set in front of him.

 

Bliss. Absolute, unadulterated bliss.

 

“So, wanna tell me why BOTH of you are here now?” Locke asked surprisingly clearly, considering almost half the ice cream was in his mouth. “Oh, Palma! Keep ‘em coming!”

 

“I only just got it out of Grig’s mouth,” Sage said, surprisingly somber. “Elya’s been kidnapped.”

 

“Hah. Funny,” Locke said, shaking his head as he shoveled more chocolate into his mouth. “Really, what’s he want?”

 

“It’s true, Locke,” Sage sighed, shaking his head. “Can you think of anything else that’d get Uncle Grig into such a snit he’d get Dante and Me, not to mention every criminal in the city, looking for you?”

 

“But…it’s ELYA. That’s like saying someone kidnapped a necklace.”

 

Dante snickered, but the other three ignored him.

 

“Listen, all he wants is your help. No reenlistment, no…well, not MUCH manipulation, and you can say no if you want,” Sage shrugged. “I know I’m helping, and Dante’s already got his gear together at the house.”

 

“When doesn’t he,” Locke muttered, and Dante actually stuck his tongue out at the older boy.

 

“Locke, it’s ELYA we’re talking about. How can you not help?” Sage asked.

 

“She’s barely thirteen now,” Dante added.

 

“And I’m betting just as mute, deaf, and blind as before, right?”

 

“Not to mention cute, cuddly, and curious. Remember the teddy bear she made for you for your Arrival Day?”

 

“And the special gloves. Don’t forget the gloves.”

 

“Or how she signs ‘Uncle Locke’ with a lisp for you.”

 

“And the fact YOU-”

 

“FINE!” Locke exploded, and Aidenai barely dodged a wayward hand smacking him in the face. “But I can still leave whenever the hell I want, I get full overprotective privileges-” (Dante glared sullenly) “- and I reserve the right to explode you EVERY time you try to feel me up!”

 

“Isn’t that a little harsh?” Sage asked, scandalized.

 

“NO! IT’S NOT!” Locke was glaring bloody murder at the two of them, who just pouted back. Growling, the thief rammed another spoonful of ice cream into his mouth.

 

“Fine,” Sage sighed, and pulled a packet of papers out of his still-pristine regal duster. A force of habit had Locke grabbing them immediately, the pen Dante tossed being snatched mid-air as he looked over the usual contract on top.

 

“…Do I have red pen policy on this?” Locke asked absentmindedly, speed-reading the fine print.

 

Dante shrugged. “On everything but the safety clauses, as usual.”

 

Locke nodded, and with a few quick scratches of the ink signed his name on the bottom…only to find an identical paper beneath it.

 

“What is this, duplicates?” Locke frowned, and Sage shook his head, eyes quickly turning to Aidenai.

 

“That’s for dear Mr. Aidenai,” he said coolly, and purple eyes clashed with turquoise in the sudden silence of the booth.

 

“Thank you, but I’m not very interested in getting into government business,” he said politely, but made no move to leave.

 

“Of course you aren’t. That’s why it’s officially mercenary work,” Sage added, and pulled a single sheet of paper, this one small and folded into fourths, from his coat. With a flick of his wrist, it sailed through the air, and Aidenai caught it easily, unfolding it and laying the image flat on the table.

 

An ink depiction was scribbled hurriedly onto the scrap paper with blue ink that had bled through from the pressure. A man in a long coat with shorter, pale hair and a strange tie around his forehead loomed over the artist’s perspective, smoldering eyes and an empty expression making him seem almost ethereally demonic.

 

“They said his name was Nixas,” Sage said quietly, and Aidenai’s breath audibly hitched, turquoise eyes devouring the page. “He kidnapped Elya along with three other Arven elite. She drew that just a few minutes before they took her.” The assassin’s hands clenched on the edge of the paper.

 

“I…” Aidenai paused, voice choking off, and he closed his eyes tightly. “Give me the contract.”

 

The sheet quickly slid below his hands, and the same pen rested in his hand.

 

With a final, firm glare, the white-haired assassin signed his name.

 

His FULL name.

 

Locke stared at the simple black lines that formed Aidenai Swordrush as the paper passed back to Sage’s hands.