Familiar Bonds Part 2

The late afternoon sun cast a rare, honeyed glow over the twisting streets and towering facades of Dûrnarn’s upper reaches. Golden light spilled into the market square, catching in the glass cases and crystal trinkets, igniting them with fleeting brilliance. Bell trailed behind Ava, taking in the bustling scene. The square was alive, teeming with voices and laughter, the air thick with scents of spiced tea, old parchment, and smouldering incense that mingled with the underlying, metallic tang of the city.

Ava was in her element, striding ahead with a feline grace, the faintest smirk playing on her lips as she deftly navigated the labyrinthine rows of stalls and carts. She moved as if she were a part of the place itself, her fingers brushing over charms and tokens, crystal vials, and strange metal contraptions, handling each with a practised ease that spoke of familiarity with this world of haggling merchants and sly, darting eyes. Bell, however, found herself slightly out of step, drawn to everything and nothing in particular, the endless assortment of items dizzying her with choice.

They passed a stall where a hawker advertised enchanted fabrics that shimmered in every colour under the sun. Another stall nearby boasted skeletal relics, the pale bones arranged in intricate, otherworldly patterns. Bell caught snippets of conversation—the rush of foreign dialects, the clipped accents of nobles bartering for silks, and the rich, thick laughter of miners fresh from the depths, eyes gleaming with the satisfaction of a hard day’s labour. Everything was overwhelming and beautiful, a chaotic tapestry of lives that seemed to breathe with the city’s pulse.

Ava moved with such confidence that Bell felt a strange comfort despite the whirlwind around them. Her friend’s laughter rang out as she snatched up a handful of polished stones and examined them, holding one up to the light before tossing it back with a playful scoff.

“Ava, what are you even looking for?” Bell finally asked, struggling to keep up with her friend’s pace as they moved further down the row of vendors.

“Oh, Bell, you have to try these,” Ava insisted, holding up a pair of dazzlingly sharp stilettos. “Nothing says confidence like a pair of shoes that could double as a weapon.”

Bell took the shoes gingerly, doubtful they’d survive a walk through Dûrnarn’s cobblestone streets. She was just about to try one on when a sudden hush fell over the marketplace, as though a chilling gust had silenced the usual hubbub. Bell glanced up to see a striking figure standing at the entrance of the market, and Ava groaned, her eyes narrowing.

“Wonderful,” Ava muttered under her breath. “It’s Vivienne.”

The woman stepped forward with the kind of poise that didn’t simply request attention; it demanded it. She moved with a graceful, predatory ease, her every step purposeful, her gaze sharp and assessing as it swept over the room like a blade, missing nothing. She was tall, statuesque, her frame encased in a leather ensemble that clung to her curves and seemed to glimmer under the dim lights, a strange mix of the impractical and the deadly. Each piece of her attire was carefully selected—polished, glinting buckles at her wrists, silver embellishments tracing her collarbones, the fabric catching the faint glow from the street lamps in a way that made her look as if she were draped in shadows.

Bell felt her breath catch as she took in the woman’s bearing, her aura, which seemed to simmer with barely restrained power. It wasn’t the vibrant, playful energy that Ava carried, wild and reckless. No, this was something colder, sharper—a refined cruelty honed with years of calculated purpose. Dark hair cascaded down her back in waves, glossy and unmarred, catching the lamplight like silk. Her eyes, dark and unyielding, held a glint that Bell recognized immediately; it was the look of someone who thrived on danger, who sought it out the way others might seek warmth, and found thrill in that dance with risk.

The woman’s face held a severity that didn’t soften, even as she curved her lips into a smirk. It was a smile devoid of warmth, more an acknowledgment of her own power than any outward friendliness. Her gaze swept over Bell, assessing, dissecting, as though she were measuring her worth with the merest glance. There was an energy about her that made the air feel charged, as if merely standing in her presence could set something ablaze.

Bell’s mind flickered, unbidden, to Ava. There was a similar fire in Ava’s eyes, a chaotic allure that drew people in, but this woman’s was entirely different—a refined sort of malice, as though she had stripped away all the frills and trappings of pleasantries, leaving only the cold mechanics of her purpose. It was the confidence of someone who knew her strengths intimately and wasn’t afraid to wield them.

The woman took in Bell’s reaction with an air of amusement, one dark brow arching slightly, as if she were already one step ahead.

“Is that—?” Bell stammered, clutching the stiletto shoes closer.

“My arch-nemesis,” Ava grumbled, tossing her hair back with an indignant flick. “Vivienne LaFleur, demon-hunting stripper extraordinaire. Don’t let her sparkly outfit fool you—she’s just as likely to break a nail as she is to break a demon’s neck.”

“Ava,” Vivienne purred as she approached, flashing a dangerously charming smile. “I thought I smelled sulphur.”

Ava bristled, rolling her eyes. “I thought they banned you from public places, Vivienne. Demons have sensitive noses, you know.”

Vivienne’s eyes flicked over to Bell, sly grin widening. “And who’s this? Picking up mortals now, Ava? How delightfully cliché.”

Bell’s cheeks turned a faint shade of pink as she mustered a small wave. “Uh, hi, I’m Bell. Just… shopping.”

“Shopping?” Vivienne chuckled. “With her?” She turned back to Ava, her tone dripping with condescension. “Do you think this is going to win you points with the council?”

Ava’s eyes narrowed dangerously. “I don’t need points with the council. And I certainly don’t need advice from a glorified pole-dancer with a crossbow.”

Vivienne leaned in close, whispering in a voice Bell could barely hear, “Be careful, little mortal. Shopping with Ava isn’t just bad for your taste—it’s bad for your health.”

Before Bell could respond, Vivienne twirled around and walked off, leaving Ava fuming.

“Unbelievable,” Ava muttered, hands on her hips. “I can’t believe I used to have a truce with that woman. As if she’s ever saved anyone from a demon.” 

Bell raised an eyebrow, trying to hide her amusement. “She seemed… pretty intense.”

“Oh, she’s intense, alright. Intense about eyeliner, maybe. Look, forget her, Bell,” Ava said, suddenly tugging her away. “We’ve got real shopping to do. How about a nice potion for courage? I think you could use it after that little encounter.”

Bell laughed, relaxing as they continued through the market, the lingering tension replaced by Ava’s typical sass. And as they left the stall behind, she couldn’t help but wonder if demon-hunting strippers were the strangest thing she’d encounter today—or if, with Ava, that was just the start.

Bell moved through the market as if in a trance, her senses ensnared by the vivid tapestry around her. Stalls lined the cobbled street, spilling over with glinting trinkets and strange, mesmerising curiosities that seemed to hum with untold stories. She barely registered the people milling about, each engrossed in their own pursuit of bargains and treasures. Bell’s fingers brushed over a silver bracelet displayed on a weathered velvet cushion, its intricate etchings twisting and curling in designs she didn’t recognize. Each stroke of her hand revealed another hidden symbol, and she felt a strange thrill, wondering if the bracelet itself might carry secrets too deep for a novice like her to understand.

The air hung heavy with the scent of spiced meats sizzling on open grills, mingling with the sweetness of candied fruits. Every breath she took was laden with the exotic richness of Dûrnarn, each aroma intensifying the spellbinding allure of the marketplace. Bright fabrics were draped across tables, embroidered with gold thread that caught the light and shimmered like liquid fire, while rows of glistening crystals threw fragmented rainbows onto her skin, casting her in flashes of colour as she moved.

Ava walked just ahead, glancing back over her shoulder every so often, her green eyes sharp, darting around the crowd. There was a tension in Ava’s gaze, a careful watchfulness that contrasted sharply with her usual nonchalance. Bell couldn’t help but wonder if she was still thinking of Vivienne. Each of Ava’s glances was calculated, almost protective, and it left Bell with a faint unease that threaded through her own excitement, pulling her back to the present.

Bell tried to shake off the strange feeling, allowing herself to linger at a stall overflowing with leather-bound books and jars filled with preserved herbs. The merchant’s voice, deep and gravelly, recited the uses of each herb with a reverent tone, but her mind barely registered his words. Her gaze drifted back to Ava, who now looked more like a cat on the prowl than a woman shopping for charms. Ava’s steps were languid, yet her posture radiated alertness, her head tilting subtly as she scanned the crowd, her every movement laced with an almost predatory grace.

“Ava, are you expecting someone?” Bell asked, noticing the way Ava’s eyes kept flicking over her shoulder. But Ava only gave a sly smile and waved her off.

Ava finally tugged her into a narrow, dimly lit shop that seemed to emerge from the shadows, half hidden behind a cascade of mismatched fabrics. The cloth hung like heavy drapery, creating an illusion of secrecy as if the shop itself were reluctant to be discovered. Bell felt her skin prickle as they crossed the threshold, a faint metallic scent mingling with the pervasive aroma of sage. The air was thick and cloying, pressing against her senses and making her stomach twist uneasily. A distant, cold draft seemed to hum through the room, hinting at some other, unknown presence within.

As her eyes adjusted to the murky interior, Bell took in the rows of glass jars lining the shelves, each one casting a pale, morbid glow in the scant light. Inside, grotesque specimens floated in murky liquid, preserved pieces of creatures that seemed dredged from nightmares rather than reality. A tiny, withered hand, fingers curled as if grasping some unseen thread of life, hung suspended in a viscous fluid. Beside it, a delicate, feathered wing, tinged with an iridescent green, seemed to twitch in the shadows, though Bell knew it was long dead. She shuddered, instinctively shrinking closer to Ava, who was watching her with barely concealed amusement.

A dry chuckle, like parchment rubbed against stone, echoed from a darkened corner of the shop. Bell’s eyes were drawn to the source of the sound, where an ancient man perched on a low stool behind a counter strewn with strange artefacts, his silhouette almost melting into the cluttered background. His skin was ashen and papery, his thin, silver hair falling in wisps around his face. Eyes sharp as dagger points peered out at her from beneath heavy lids, glinting with something that might have been mischief—or malice.

“Well, well, what do we have here?” he murmured, his voice thin and cracked, yet laced with an unsettling vitality. He regarded Bell with an amused grin, clearly savouring her unease. His gaze flicked to Ava with a look of familiarity, a raised eyebrow that hinted at years of shared secrets.

“Brought me fresh company, have you, Ava?” His voice was a raspy whisper, and Bell felt it curl around her like smoke, setting her nerves on edge.

“The usual, Ozren,” Ava replied with a casual wave, though Bell could sense a guarded tension beneath her words. The old man chuckled again, reaching under the counter with fingers as thin and knotted as tree roots. He withdrew two small glass vials, each filled with a thick, electric-blue potion that seemed to pulse faintly in the gloom, as if alive.

Bell watched in morbid fascination as Ava exchanged a pair of blood-red garnet beads for the vials, which the old man handed over with a smile that was half grin, half grimace. She couldn’t shake the sense that those vials held something far more dangerous than they seemed, and she eyed Ava sceptically as they turned to leave.

As they made their way back to the street, Bell could still feel the old man’s gaze lingering on her, a cold weight pressing between her shoulder blades. Ava’s grip on her arm was firm, almost pulling her along, and Bell glanced back, half-expecting to see the man watching them from the doorway. But only shadows remained, draped in fabric, the shop already fading back into obscurity as though it had never truly been there at all.

“What was that?” Bell asked. Ava ignored her, pressing through the bustling market and weaving toward the old metal elevator, her movements quick and purposeful like a thief in the night.

“Ava, what did you buy?” Bell persisted once they were safely enclosed in the lift, the hum of machinery vibrating beneath their feet. Ava turned to her with a mischievous glint in her eyes, her lips curling into a sly smile.

“Just a little lesson from Elspeth,” Ava replied. “She thinks it’s time you learn a bit more about the creatures beyond our world… the window creatures.”

Bell rolled her eyes, not fooled. She could tell Ava was only invoking Elspeth’s name to ease her into whatever dangerous or dubious task lay ahead. Still, curiosity gnawed at her. “Fine,” Bell muttered. “What are window creatures?”

Ava leaned against the side of the lift, still smiling as if Bell had asked the question she’d been waiting for. “Well, you’ve already met one,” Ava said, her voice low and mysterious. “But Elspeth took that memory from you.”

Bell’s stomach twisted, and she looked away, feeling a surge of unease. She knew Elspeth had taken certain memories—ones Bell had been all too grateful to forget. Ava continued, clearly savoring the suspense.

“There are all kinds of window creatures,” Ava said as they exited the lift and made their way through the bustling lower levels back toward the shop. “Most can only be encountered by chance, or if you know what you’re looking for. Demons, like me, are window creatures, but not all of us can be summoned so easily. Some, however, you might be able to encounter if you have the right magic or if you know the right rituals. These creatures tend to slip through the cracks, appearing in places where reality is thin—like the mines.”

Bell pondered this as they walked. She’d heard rumours about strange sightings down in the mines, whispers of unsettling things lurking in the depths. She thought back to the old gardener and his planchette. As they arrived at the shop, Ava placed the two electric-blue potions on the counter, the glass bottles glinting under the shop’s dim light.

Ava tapped the bottles and continued, “In the mines, your chances of meeting these creatures increase. But there’s one in particular that people have seen consistently. You’re guaranteed to see him if you use a very old alchemical mixture.” Ava paused, her eyes glinting with a hint of satisfaction.

Bell arched an eyebrow, intrigued and slightly uneasy. “Who?”

Ava’s gaze grew intense, her voice dropping to a whisper. “The Hat Man.”