The Enterprise of Death - Jesse Bullington [113]
She must have been laughing or crying, for each bed she passed on the third floor went quiet, and then she had gained the stair, banging on Monique’s door until it swung open. Awa pushed the pistol away as she barged in, Monique cursing as she stepped back and removed the sizzling matchcord she had almost used to fire the gun into her friend’s face. A newer whore was sitting up in Monique’s bed, her open mouth growing wider as Awa approached her.
“—fuck?!”
“Out, please.” Awa ignored Monique, addressing the harlot. “I need to discuss some life-and-death business with the lady.”
“Mo?” The whore looked over Awa’s shoulder, and whatever she saw encouraged her to hop quickly out of bed, the sheet wrapped around her ample form.
“Wait in the hall, I don’t wanna go an’ find ya,” Monique was telling the girl as Awa went to the table and picked up a half-full mug of wine. Then the door shut and they were alone. “Life-an’-death it better fuckin be, Awa, I was—”
“I’m leaving,” said Awa, emptying the cup. “Now. Apologies for not giving you more notice, but time’s a fickle bitch, yeah?”
“That she is.” Monique’s wide shoulders slumped and she pulled her robe tighter around her. “An’ she ain’t the only one, apparently. If you’ve been fightin with that mink of yours again—”
“You know you mean minx, right?”
“Mink’s soft an’ pretty an’ bites if ya ain’t careful, an’ I can’t say what the fuck a minx is, so no, I mean fuckin mink. Rhymes with pink. But point is, ya been yellin again?”
“Monique.” Awa smiled, knowing she never would have made so happy a home without the madam’s help. “You’ve been a grand friend, grand, but I’m away, and that’s it.”
“That’s it?”
“That’s it.” Awa poured another cup from the bottle, handed it to Monique, and hefted the bottle to her own lips. “Away.”
“Why? Where’re ya goin? What’s so fuckin urgent?”
“Better not to know.” Awa winked, tugging her ear. “Witch business.”
“Ah.” Monique set her gun on the table and swished the mug in her hand. “This witch business might allow ya ta pop in from time ta time, let us know you’re well?”
“I don’t know,” said Awa. “I very much hope so.”
“Me too,” said Monique, putting the wine down beside her gun. “Me too, little sister.”
They stood facing each other for a time, and then Monique turned and went to her trunk. She unlocked it with a key she kept on a necklace around her bull neck and removed a purse. She started to untie it but then thought better of it and tossed it to Awa. The necromancer caught the pouch, the weight of the coins stinging her palm.
“Takin that prime mink with ya?” Monique was perfectly lousy at faking a smile. “If she stayed behind I’d ’old a brighter ’ope of ya comin back.”
“I don’t know,” said Awa, the thought she had kept at bay now barking in her face. “I hope so, but she’s a free woman.”
“Aren’t we fuckin all,” said Monique, her smile becoming more genuine.
“Oh! Oh, Monique, I have something for you—but you have to make me a promise, alright?” Awa had set down the satchel she had hastily packed with the portrait of Chloé and all her other treasures. She took out the hawthorn box as Monique lit a second candle from the nub burning on the table. “Now, your word, Monique!”
“My word, right enough,” said Monique. “I’ll do as ya wish … but what’re those, rocks?”
“Salamander eggs,” said Awa. “I’m going to keep one in case I need it, but the other five are yours, so long as you promise to let them go when you’re done with them.”
“Eggs?” Monique looked suspiciously at them, perhaps worried they were about to hatch. “What do I do with’em?”
“Whatever you wish. You’re smarter than you let on.”
“That’s a little outta order!”
“Listen, when you’re done with them, or if you don’t find