Ledula

Time slowed down as Murdon's body fell towards the floor. There was barely a sound, or perhaps the shot had been loud enough to temporarily deafen Serenica. There was also very little left of Murdon's head. Blood. Blood and pieces of brains everywhere. Luckily Serenica had been standing far away from the man. Otherwise she would have had to change her clothes, and there was simply no time for such frivolities.

The pistol was unfortunately loud indeed. Serenica made her exit and made sure to choose a different route this time.

She was now a healer, a fighter and a killer. The contradiction was eating her alive, and while she knew she had done something for the entire witch community, there was still that basic fact about healing.

Healers could not be killers.

Serenica felt a pain inside her chest, a pain of such magnitude that she directed her steps back towards the Blue Girl.

On her way she tried her best to avoid being seen, but a certain crowd caught her eye and she hid behind a corner to eavesdrop.

The mother with the one-eyed baby was wailing, a bottle of something that looked like moonshine in her hand, leaning on a man and complaining to a group of women.

"He's dead now, dead, and the witch will be, too, but what does it matter? My final hope is crushed, I have nothing – nothing except my vengeance!"

It was as if a cold, heavy liquid had filled Serenica's insides. Even her bowels protested against the realization.

She had killed the wrong person.

Not being able to rationalize to herself the murder of a young grieving mother, she took a turn on a shady alley, almost hoping to get stabbed and robbed.

Everything was wrong on such a fundamental level that Serenica went to Helen's place.

The socialite had barely undressed. She opened the door looking so unfashionable that Serenica got a little worried about her.

"It was the wrong person," Serenica said, aching and scared.

"Oh, mother of worms…"

"Can I stay?"

"You can't. I love you and you are my only star. But you can't. It would be too dangerous for us both. Come in for a moment and I'll fix you something."

Helen's roommates were sleeping off their wine and Serenica and Helen had the kitchen corner to themselves. Helen gave her distraught friend some fish pastries. They were the best thing Serenica had ever tasted.

They ate in silence. Helen found a bottle of wine, and as she was placing it in Serenica's hands, she slowly slid her fingers up the ragged sleeve of the healer, like Roinar used to do, but it wasn't filthy, it didn't feel wrong.

Serenica waited for Helen's hand to reach her shoulder, and on that very moment she pulled the blonde woman into her lap and kissed her forehead.

She was the finest, softest and kindest thing Serenica had ever felt on her body.

"I love you," Serenica said when Helen drew back. "Stay safe."

"Of course."

Serenica had no money and since the city watch was after her, she didn't dare to think about going back home. No inn or tavern would take her in without any money. She went to the Blue Girl, but Theod had left already, and the rest of the customers eyed her in a very nasty way. She had nowhere to go.

Except, of course, the street.

Serenica found her way to the shack that served as a home for the poor witches thrown out of their homes. One could have thought that they were lucky to keep their lives, but Serenica was in a similar situation and she certainly didn't feel lucky.

"Oh, what are you after again? More booze?" someone snickered nearby.

Serenica jumped, but it was Ledula, perhaps the least threatening woman in all of Sennas.

"I've had enough of that sort," Serenica said. "Where's the tall man?"

"Izil is running errands."

It was a strange time to be running errands, but Serenica didn't care, witches lived different lives from the rest of the population and perhaps there was a certain herb that had to be collected at midnight or maybe it was about someone wanting to curse their landlord or their cheating spouse without anyone knowing, and it mattered so little. Izil, if that was his name, was a safe person. Ledula was safe as well, but in such a soft, yielding way that her presence failed to provide Serenica any real sense of comfort.

"I am both homeless and an outlaw now, and I have killed a man," Serenica said.

"Haven't we all? Come inside the shack. There might be covers and pillows there, and if there isn't, I'll get you something to eat."

Whatever the substance resembling jerky was, it was heavenly to Serenica, and she ate it in appropriate silence while arranging some very thin covers in the corner of the shack.

"You got yourself in deep trouble, huh?"

"It didn't require all that much effort on my part," Serenica replied and laid down. "Is it always going to be like this? Running away?"

"You could always stand your ground," Ledula suggested.

Serenica found this suggestion to be hypocritical. Ledula and her crowd had certainly not stood their ground. Perhaps it was a fantasy to the woman, that someone would stick it to Kinley and even succeed.

"All right, it's a hard thing to do," Ledula finally said.

"Where are the rest?"

"I don't know."

Suddenly whatever warmth and safety Serenica was feeling in this shack disappeared. If Ledula didn't know, it was entirely possible that the rest of the homeless witches had been caught. Or worse, they could be of the weak sort and ready to rat out their friends.

"Oh, calm yourself, will you, you little mouse of a woman," Ledula groaned and threw a stone at her.

Serenica was so shocked by this violent action that she couldn't even catch the stone. It hit her in the top of her head. Luckily Ledula had not put much force in the throw.

"What the hell?"

"Lick it and tell me if you still feel antsy!"

The suggestion was so absurd that Serenica smelled witchcraft. She licked the stone with the tip of her tongue.

Alcohol. The stone was sweating alcohol. It had a funny taste to it, Serenica had trouble naming the weird aromas. There were similarities to the homemade moonshine Serenica had bought. However, this was a purer, simpler taste. This was probably how the homeless always had a bottle ready for the next thirsty one.

"How did you people manage to do this?" Serenica asked.

"It's the stone. Not us."

Serenica wasn't satisfied with the answer, but she didn't feel like interrogating the woman. Ledula was nice and sassy and something about the soft, cheap scarves she wore made Serenica want to hug her.