Chapter 39 - Beatrice and Maya

After determining their plan, they went and slept at the Holden Hotel, nearly unable to book Alanis and Peter's rooms rooms due to reaching capacity.

They didn't feast as hard as the other guests, due to needing to be at tip top shape when the fighting broke out. They did, however, get a nice grub going, especially Peter. Their roles in the plan were simple: Peter would take all the attention once he grabbed the gem, Maya and Claire would support, and Alanis would stand by to help due to her relative inexperience. A simple plan, but it could work. And if Peter needed to be extracted, at least Beatrice would make it out first.

After a couple of hours, they turned in for the night. He entered the domain, this time testing how he could take people down non-lethally. He formed a blood rope of sorts and wrapped it around a stalagmite; it held its shape, but didn't cut through. He nodded. That was enough confirmation for him. If he couldn't do that, then it would've been a lot more difficult to execute the plan.

Suddenly, he heard someone knocking on the door, sending him out of his domain. He woke up and answered, seeing Maya stand in front of him.

"Not sleepy?" He asked.

"Yeah. I guess so. Would you be fine talking with me for a bit?"

"Sure, why not?"

"Alright. Follow me."

He followed her, all the way to the bookstore. They entered, going upstairs and to the left. There, they entered Beatrice's bedroom. He didn't have much time to explore; at first glance, he gathered the room was extremely nice, but that was about it. A ladder to the roof stood to the left of the bed. She pointed upwards, then climbed the ladder, opening the roof hatch and climbing through. He followed her, squeezing through the latch. He watched his step as he made his way over to Maya, who sat comfortably on the bookstore's roof tiles. He sat down next to her, watching the moon as it hovered in the sky.

"So, what did you need to talk to me about?" He asked.

"I've been thinking about my childhood a lot. About my mother. About Beatrice. And tonight, I've been thinking extra hard about them. So I wanted to get it off my chest before tomorrow, I guess."

"Alright then."

She sighed, rubbing her arms to warm herself up. "It all began when Mr. Hayabushi died, and my mother tried to take away his rifle from me. I had disliked my mother before. She made me food, yes, but she never did anything with me. She hadn't always been like that; she took me to the circus, took me on walks, stuff like that. But she got worse. I don't remember when it happened, but I do remember the life slowly fading from her face. It's like she had given up at some point. Maybe something happened with her family? I don't think she ever told me.

"But that night, when I argued with her, that was when I started to really hate her. I still loved her, but I started wishing I could move away, get away from her. I even wished she was dead a couple of times. It sounds rude, but it's true."

"I get that. It was the same way for me. My parents... I knew they wanted the best for me, but it felt suffocating being in their presence."

"Ah. I don't recall if my mother wanted 'the best for me', but I guess that's not the point. Whatever the case, I started spending almost all my time outdoors, holding my rifle close to me. I'd sleep outdoors sometimes. I'd come back, and she wouldn't even pay me any attention. A quick glance, with no words. It made me want to leave even more, but something kept bringing me back. But one day, she stopped making me food. Of course, that meant I had to source and make my own food. As a fourteen year old at the time, it got a little tough, but I always managed to make it through by hunting in the forest.

"And on one of those days, I met Beatrice. Back then, people called her Edith, the Lockpick of Burnan. She made her living as a thief, constantly grabbing bread when no one was looking and selling valuables taken from others. She was very good at it, too. She could crack all sorts of locks, from the most simple locks to even the most secured ones. She could even break magical locks, which is most likely the reason why she was taken. But because of that, nobody wanted to help her, and nobody wanted her.

"When I met her, she wasn't anything like she is today. Her clothes were rags, her body beaten and bruised, her personality angry and vengeful. A few folks managed to catch up to her and beat her senseless, leaving her to rot away in the forest. She was tired, hungry, and most importantly, alone. I'd been walking in the forest for a couple of days at that point. I had a few berries and a canteen on me, and I was also quite hungry. When I saw her on the ground, she yelled at me. Swore at me, told me to leave her alone. But something in me couldn't leave her alone. How could I, when she couldn't even move her body? I hadn't known about her reputation at the time, so all I saw was someone suffering. So, because of that, I fed her my berries and let her drink my water. She ended up drinking all of it."

"How long had she been there?" He asked.

"About two days. If I hadn't met her, she probably would've died there."

"Damn."

She nodded. "After that, I managed to find new food in time. The next time I went to the forest, she found me again. Her bruises still showed, but she seemed a lot happier. That made me happy too. And that was the start of everything. At first, it started off with simple banter, showing off items she'd stolen and asking me for food. I didn't know how to feel about her then, but I stuck around because she was someone to talk to. And then, she started changing. Maybe it was when I talked about my mother. I'm not sure. But she started stealing less, tried to give me food, gave me advice that, admittedly, was completely wrong. But I didn't care. I started seeing her as my own mom, and I think it started rubbing off on her.

"Eventually, I made up my mind. I went to my mother and I told her that I was going to leave, whether she liked it or not. She went berserk, in a way I never saw her before. I think it was when I told her Beatrice was a better mother than she ever would be. She attacked me. Stabbed me in the eye and chopped off my fingers, told me I was an ungrateful brat and that she needed me because she had no one else. I wanted her to stop. I wanted her to stop so badly, but she didn't, and..." Tears welled up in her eyes, her voice wavering a bit. "And because she didn't, I went for the closest weapon I had, my rifle. And that's when I killed her. Shot her right in the chest. I don't even think she registered it. She just fell over, motionless.

"I sat down on the ground and cried, half from the pain and half from what I did to my mom. Beatrice found me in the house after that gunshot. She cradled me, wrapped up my wounds, told me everything was going to be alright. We left that very same night. I feared we'd be tailed, or someone would be chasing us. Nothing like that happened. I wonder if anyone even cared that she died. But ever since then, Beatrice did her best to raise me, like I was her own daughter. And now that she's gone... if I lose her, I'll have nobody. I don't want that, I don't..."

She sobbed quietly, trying to wipe away the tears. Peter, unsure of what to do, hugged her gently. She hugged him back, gripping the back of his tunic as she buried her face in his shoulder, unable to hold herself back. "We'll get her back," He said, patting her back. "We aren't going to let her die."

It took her a while to let everything out. They climbed down to the bedroom, where they said their goodbyes to each other. He left the bookstore, going back to his hotel room, and as he fell asleep, he affirmed himself of what he said to her.

They weren't going to let Beatrice die, no matter what it took to get her back.