Chapter Text
Days started to blend when sleep was as elusive as coin, and just as difficult to earn. He looked forward to the times he had enough brass for the booze it would take to let him sleep through one of these endless days. Sleep were even rarer when he’d first come back, but at least then he’d been content to hide away during the daylight hours. He knew he no longer belonged among the folk who thrive under the bright yellow sun, but he had to step into their world. He weren’t one of them anymore, but he had a duty to help and protect them. His penance.
He spent most of his days wandering; his nights hunting.
When the sun turned its punishing gaze away, he’d shift back into his comfortable home amid the shadows, his perfect hunting perch where he could strike to avenge those he hadn’t protected. That was where he belonged: in darkness, like a Ghost.
Ghost had been back long enough to blend in with a crowd; long enough to practice pretending. As much as someone of his pallor could blend in, anyway. He walked along the packed street, the sweltering afternoon heat pushing down on him like a heavy weight. His pockets were getting low, but while coin might be hard to come by, scumbags worth nicking it from certainly weren’t.
He wasn’t alone in thinking so. A commotion broke out several yards ahead as a man’s shrill voice yelled, “Thief!”
Ghost paused as the throng of people carried on, business as usual. A small halfling child in a raggedy cap pulled low bowled past him into a nearby alleyway.
“Stop that pickpocketing brat!”
The thief’s victim pushed through the uncooperative crowd a moment later, eyes darting around and landing on the alley.
Ghost discreetly caught the man’s ankle with his foot as he ran towards his target. He took a bit of satisfaction at the pained grunt that escaped the nobleman when he hit the cobblestone. No doubt, anyone dressed so finely in a neighborhood like this was up to nowt good and could stand to lose their pocket money.
Ghost helpfully grabbed the nobleman’s elbow. “Tha alright, my lord?” he feigned concern as he hauled him to his feet.
The nobleman gave Ghost a sharp shove as he regained his balance. “Get your filthy hands off of me! Where did that snot-nosed thief run?”
Ghost did his best to seem thoroughly scolded and intimidated, lowering his head submissively and pointing down the street, away from the alley. The nobleman gave a weak push to Ghost’s shoulder before moving in the direction he’d indicated. Ghost watched him limp away, slipping into the alleyway only when he was sure the man was gone.
The alley appeared empty at first glance, but after a moment’s investigation, he noticed a wee bare foot visible behind a pile of broken crates. Ghost approached deliberately and softly asked, “Tha alright?”
The tiny foot jerked back from view quickly and a soft gasp could be heard.
“Nowt to worry about. He’s gone. I sent him off t’other way.”
A small face peaked from its hiding place, eyes impossibly wide and calculating. “Ya sure he’s gone?” she asked in a hushed voice.
“Sure as today’s light.” Ghost grinned, stooping to his haunches to meet her eyes. “How much tha nick off ‘im?”
The bairn squinted her eyes in mistrust.
Ghost held up his hands in a gesture of innocence, leaning back to emphasize the distance between them. “I’m not here to take owt,” he smiled fondly. “Just wanna make sure tha’s alright, and won’t have to snatch nowt for a few days, at least.”
The halfling abandoned her hiding place cautiously. Her slow movements would have been silent even without the noise of the distant crowd or the flapping of fabric from the clotheslines above the street. Keeping her eyes locked on him as she came within his reach, the lass pulled out the leather pouch she’d snatched from the dandy. She tipped the coins into her wee palm and they counted it together. Eight silver and three copper pieces.
The scattered light of the alley revealed stark irritation on her freckled face. “That cheapskate chased me down for this?” she scoffed.
Ghost could not hold back his startled laughter; he’d have expected disappointment or despair. Her hostility was a breath of fresh air. Reminded him that some folk kept enough fire to stand up for themselves. But he had to agree with her sentiment—what a greedy toff.
While this would be enough to buy her a few days’ worth of food, he reckoned he could do more. A full belly’d do her more good than a bout of drunken sleep would do him.
He reached for the coin purse he’d taken from his latest target—weren’t missed where that’n was—and gave it to her. “It’s only a few silver, but I hope tha’ll use it wisely. And don’t go for folks as temptin’ as that nobleman. Types like him keep their eyes peeled in places like this.”
The lass nodded with a wide-eyed expression as she took the pouch carefully from his hand. He gave her a nod, smiling as he turned back the way he’d come. “Thank you!” she rushed to say before he rounded the corner. He gave a half turn and a friendly salute and disappeared into the crowded street.
Since his financial woes had gone from bleak to void, Ghost thought it best to find a venture that might lead to some coin. He weren’t opposed to honest work, but he never wanted to stick around in one place long enough for true gainful employment. It was easier to live off what he could take from those who proved they didn’t deserve it, but he’d found no such target in his search so far.
Ghost had a tried and true method for earning a meager pay and helping some folk in the process—aside from his nightly hunt, of course—that brought him as close as he was liable to get to returning to his medical studies. Many apothecaries were willing to purchase herbs and foragables they could use in their practice, so he asked for directions to the closest one and headed that way.
His pouch of herbs wasn’t as sparse as his coin pouch had been; he’d spent the better part of the day gathering them the last time he’d been outside the city… taking out some trash. He was sure they’d fetch enough coin to at least replace what he’d lost today.
The apothecary was a humble building in the Southern Ward, close to the city wall. The sign was weather worn and the roof had seen better days; it drew his eye as a place in need of a helping hand.
He entered quickly, knowing the owner was probably getting ready to close up shop for the evening. There was already a customer inside, however. “Please, doctor, her condition is bad; I’m ‘fraid soon it’ll be too late!” An older man was pleading before the counter in the shop’s entryway. He was balding as if his hat had worn his hair as much as his hands were now wearing the hat.
“My supply is depleted, Kal, I’m sorry! There’s nothing I can do without the ingredients for her tincture. I know Ewens will have some in stock, but I can’t make something out of nothing.”
Kal lowered his head morosely. “I ain’t got the gold for the medicine at Ewens, and the herbalist refuses any bargain that ain’t coin.”
The apothecary pushed her large bifocals up her nose with a regretful sigh, “She’s stolen away all my suppliers at this point, as well. I can’t afford to match her pay, and I can’t go out foraging and gathering on my own at my age.”
Kal looked up hopefully at that. “I could go out to collect the ingredients!”
“It’s too dangerous for someone untrained, to collect medicinal herbs; too many are poisonous,” she replied.
Ghost’s throat closed with a familiar anger. He never were happy to abide seeing desperate folk helpless at the mercy of others’ greed.
“Aye,” Ghost interjected, “maybe I could lend a hand?”
Kal turned in surprise as if he hadn’t noticed Ghost enter in the first place. The apothecary eyed him curiously. “How so, young friend?”
Ghost approached the counter with his herb pouch in hand. “I have some medical trainin’ and plenty of foragin’ experience. I’m not sure if owt here’ll be helpful, but if not, I’m happy to head out ‘nd gather whatever you need.”
The old woman eyed him warily for a moment before taking a quick inventory of the contents of his bag. She let out a slight breath of delight. “These will be most useful, sir!”
The distraught man looked over Ghost’s shoulder with unbridled hope, “He’s got what you need?”
“Almost everything for your wife’s tincture, plus some extra herbs I’m running low on.” Her eyes found Ghost once more. “Young man, how much will you be needing for this?”
Ghost gave a small bow and smiled sweetly. “I’d be most grateful for owt you think is fair. And, if tha gie me a list, I’d be more’n happy to gather ingredients tha’s runnin’ low on. I can’t promise I’ll be in the city long but I’ll gladly lend a hand while I’m here.”
The woman readily set about making a list and gathering his payment. She sent the customer on his way, promising to have his wife’s medicine ready as soon as possible. She returned Ghost’s empty pouch to him as well as a handful of coins, “You really don’t know what a blessing you are, my dear boy. I can’t thank you enough.”
“This is thanks aplenty, ma’am. I’m just happy to help out where I can.” Ghost walked out of the apothecary twelve silver pieces richer. His spirits were lifted enough that he thought he might go ahead and get a room to go with his whiskey. Sleeping in a bed was always a nice change of pace, and he’d make the money back after filling the old apothecary’s list.
The crowds had started to thin as night began to fall; the bustle on the street found its way indoors. Lanterns lit windows and cheers and laughter spilled out from the gathering places around the Southern Ward. Ghost made his way toward one such inn: Benny’s. The tavern there didn’t seem as ruckus as the one closer to the center of the Ward. Maybe this weren’t the best hunting ground, but he weren’t yet Hungry enough to let it steer him.
The inn was just as Ghost had expected from the outside. Not shabby nor well-kept, the place looked like it was kept afloat by regular guests but didn’t put much effort into drawin’ in new customers.
Patronage was sparse and the keeper at the bar seemed bored. An unenthused bard in an ill-fittin’ jerkin was picking rather poorly at their lute as they slumped in a chair near the entrance. A couple of figures hunched over their drinks at the bar, one of them of average build with a cloak covering them fully and the other a hulking brute of a man with a head of tousled brown curls.
The only ruckus at this particular dive was coming from the three men in the farthest corner of the room. Their volume and slurred words suggested they’d probably been in their cups more than a short while. Ghost always kept an extra close eye on rowdy drunks; stirrin’ trouble seemed to be their favored hobby and greatest talent.
“Evenin’, sir,” Ghost approached the bar with an open smile. “I was hopin’ you might have a room available.”
The bartender studied him for just a moment longer than what was comfortable before apparently deeming him a worthy customer, grunting simply, “Two silver.”
“Grand! And what say I add a bottle o’ whiskey to take to it?”
“‘Nother five.”
Ghost took out the coins and slid them over, “Aye, I thank you, gracious sir.” The bartender gave an unamused hum, then took out a key with a number attached, passing it across the bar. He disappeared into a door behind him without another word or gesture.
“You got one ugly mug,” Ghost heard a gruff voice further down the bar, “anyone ever told you that? I’ll bet they have.” One of the drunkards had approached the big guy sitting alone— truly the amazing shit-stirrin’ capabilities never cease to satisfy! The other two gave out great guffaws as the big guy gave the drunkard no attention whatsoever.
The drunk didn’t like that his provocations were making him look foolish. “Hey!” He placed his hand roughly on the big guy’s shoulder. “Where do you get off ignoring me?”
The large man inclined his head in a gesture that must have been annoyance. “Please, leave me alone,” he responded simply in a deep, calm tone.
“Come on.” The drunk pulled on the other man’s shoulder harshly. “You look like a mean son of a bitch. Why don’t you make me leave you alone? I promise I put up more of a fight than sick old ladies,” he sneered.
Ghost tuned in sharper to their conversation. Gaze flitting back and forth between the stoic giant and the drunken bully, he wondered if his quarry weren’t so easy to pick out this time around.
All at once, the big guy turned with a killing glare and the drunkard threw a wild sucker punch. Ghost braced to retreat from the fight that was about to break out, but the chaos he expected hadn’t come. The big guy had simply caught the clumsily thrown fist and rose to his very impressive height. The drunkard had the good sense to look a little shaken while his pose had ceased their cackling entirely.
“Alright, gentleman,” Ghost found himself intervening—when the fuck had he decided to do that? Perhaps he was Hungrier than he thought—and forcing himself bodily in between the two men, facing toward the assailant. “Ain’t it best to keep interactions civil in a fine establishment such as this?”
The man moved back a step and the big guy let his fist go. “This don’t concern you, pretty boy. Mind your business,” the drunk man spat on the ground next to Ghost’s feet. The alcohol on his breath made Ghost ache.
“I find,” Ghost responded with an easy smile, “that my business is whatever I make it. And I believe he asked the to leave ‘im be.” He let Her ever-present cold rage slip forward to seep into his chest a small amount—not fully. Not enough to change him except the grotesque crunch of his jaw widening to make room for a mouth full of dagger-sharp teeth. His friendly smile quickly transformed into something gruesome and dangerous.
The man’s expression crumpled in terror and he tripped over a chair in his hurried retreat. The other two men jerked back in their seats, appearing much more sober now. “What’s the matter?” Ghost’s voice sounded like a quiet cacophony. “I thought you wanted a fight? Don’t want to play with someone who enjoys hitting back?” He gave a faux pout.
“Alright, men, that’s enough,” the bartender said calmly when he entered the tavern. “O’Connell, walk it off. Rin, time for you to go.”
Ghost straightened his face back into its signature charming grin, teeth as straight—and blunt—as they were before, and turned back to the innkeeper. “Apologies, sir.”
“Just take your whiskey and go to your room.”
“Ey up, that I’ll do!” Ghost turned to face the big guy—Rin. He looked up and up and found green eyes staring back at him intently. “Hope your night improves from here, my friend.” He reached up to give a friendly pat to Rin’s shoulder, careful to touch his jerkin and not his skin. He half expected the Rin to flinch after what he’d seen of Ghost’s… performance. Rin just stayed motionless, seemingly arrested by the sight before him.
Ghost took a few steps back to grab his whiskey. “Well, gentlemen, thanks for the entertainment. Have a good night!” He gave a shallow bow and then retired down the hall to his room. As much as he regretted sleeping through the peace and comfort of night, foraging was much easier during the day. He supposed it was a fair trade—a bed and drink to ease his way down into slumber.
He took a deep, satisfying pull from his whiskey bottle.