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3:00 AM
Lara was only slightly relieved to realise that the screams she woke up to were her own. After a night of nightmares, followed by sleeplessness, occasionally interrupted by a few minutes of sleep, then more nightmares, she wasn’t surprised in the slightest. It had actually become a morbidly comforting habit lately, if she was being honest. A certainty in the insanity that her life had become in the past couple of months. A souvenir of an adventure gone horribly wrong four years ago.
She freed herself from sweat-covered sheets tangled in her limbs; her hands relaxed, letting go of a ledge that wasn’t there anymore. Swinging her legs over the bed, she strode squarely towards the bathroom. The obstacle course of the pitch-black hotel room was a lot easier to navigate after doing it at least a dozen times.
A withering look from a tired woman greeted her from the bathroom mirror. It wasn’t as bad as it looked. After all, she had survived a night on a demon-infested island in her teens, then two weeks in the Himalayas with nothing but her wits and tenacity. A few bad dreams weren’t gonna get to her. A resigned sigh escaped her tightened throat, and she dismissed the unwelcome teardrop from her bloodshot eye.
Sleep was no longer a possibility. Not while her heart was racing at the speed of someone fleeing from a pack of hungry raptors. And a gym, shooting range, or library she’d usually kill the time with, were not part of the amenities in the cheap, run-down Turkish hotel she had rented. She sighed wearily. At least she could get some fresh air on the balcony, though it had barely enough room for two people.
She stepped outside. Despite the breeze, there was an eerie stillness in the air; it smelled of nothing. Almost like an ancient, forgotten tomb, the usually crowded streets of Istanbul were now dead silent, haunted by the rattling remains of the previous day: an empty bag of potato crisps and a can of fizzy drink. The muffled music coming from the small nightclub across the hotel sounded almost out of place. Still, Lara had no doubt the partygoers inside looked and behaved indistinguishably from the undead ‘partying’ inside ancient crypts. She could not shake off the feeling that she wasn’t supposed to be there.
“Guess sleep’s for the dead,” came a voice from her right.
She jumped and spun in the voice’s direction. After spending most of her life travelling alone, it was difficult getting used to having someone accompany her. Taking him along was another one of her spur-of-the-moment decisions in a moment of desperation or curiosity, perhaps. Unlike a lot of her decisions as of late, this one at least hadn’t come back to bite her. Yet. If nothing else, her partner at least knew how to hold a gun and had her back in a fight.
“Kurtis. I didn’t see you there,” she muttered, rubbing her eyes.
The unruly mess on his head that was his hair and the dark circles under his eyes reassured her that his night had been just as restful as hers. It was also very clear that, with a pair of boxers and an unlit cigarette in his mouth as his outfit, he was expecting her company as much as she was. It didn't bother her at all. It’s not like her sports bra and underwear were any more modest, and he didn’t seem to mind her attire either.
He put down his partially disassembled gun on the ground as his eyes settled on her face. He raked his hand through his dark hair, making it even messier—if possible—while staring with the expression of one trying to decipher someone’s illegible handwriting.
“You okay? You are… pale. Another nightmare?”
The question hung in the air uncomfortably for several seconds.
“What are you doing out here, this late?” she asked.
He rolled his eyes. “I’m not deaf, Lara. All that moaning and thrashing? Nightmares or possession.” He lit his cigarette. “You’re not possessed, I checked.”
Lara wasn’t sure if she wanted to know how one goes about checking for possession.
“Look, these dreams of yours are none of my business, but—“
“You are correct, they are none of your business,” she snapped, crossing her arms.
His tone was something she was all too familiar with. But she needed neither advice nor looks of pity. Not from concerned friends trying to ‘understand’ or ‘talk’ to her, estranged parents who ‘tried to warn her’ or ‘told her so’ or from a guilt-ridden old mentor desperate for reconciliation. She’d had more than enough of that. And she was not in the mood to entertain any clever remarks from Kurtis either.
He took a deep drag from his cigarette, his face unreadable.
“Don’t know about you, but I could use a drink.” He nodded at the nightclub on the other side.
Well, certainly a more productive activity than another sappy therapy session, she thought.
“I don’t suppose they do room service, do they? I’m not exactly dressed for a party.”
“I disagree, but gotcha.”
She silently watched him stretch his neck, then raise his arm like he was reaching out for something behind the abandoned bar table. With narrowed eyes and a smooth flick of his wrist, a bottle of liquor came flying into his hand. Then, a subtle gesture with his index finger, and two glasses flew over on command. She snatched one reflexively; he seemed to be amused by her surprise. Of course, the resident spell caster. How could she forget? She hadn’t seen him use his abilities very often, though, so it was easy to forget he even had them in the first place.
“Quite the party trick. The girls must find it very impressive,” she said.
Something akin to a smile crossed his lips.
The first sip made Lara wince. The alcohol burnt her throat, nearly overpowering the sweet, citrusy taste of the liquor. It was a far stronger drink than what she usually preferred, although maybe a strong drink was what she needed right now. By her third sip, she had already begun to feel lightheaded; every muscle in her body relaxed. Her night terrors now seemed inconsequential in hindsight.
They leaned on the cold metal railing, drinking in silence. Minutes went by with them staring into the nothingness of the night sky, not saying anything. He did glance at her occasionally, only to avert his gaze when she caught him. But she was looking too. Numerous scars decorated his bare skin; the one above his ribcage looked noticeably recent, and—admittedly—fascinating. He had never told her where it came from, and she suspected that upon asking, she’d be met with a dry, dismissive answer, as per usual. Then, one particular tattoo on his forearm caught her attention.
“Are you really the last Lux Veritatis?”
He shrugged. “Probably.”
“Don’t you want to know?”
“Not really.”
“You certainly seem to be torn up about your order’s demise.”
He sighed wearily. “Lara, it was a creepy cult created to fight another creepy cult. The world’s not gonna miss either, trust me.”
“Didn’t that ‘creepy cult’ give you your fancy abilities? And as far as I’m aware, unlike the Cabal, it also hasn’t tried wiping out humanity.”
“No, but there’s a lot of horrific shit they did in the name of protecting humanity,” Kurtis scoffed. “And don’t get me started on how ‘fun’ it was to learn to use these party tricks.”
“Is that why you left the order?”
He shrugged again.
“And you?” he asked.
“What about me?”
“I doubt you learned your fancy skills at home.”
As ironic as it sounded, the past was not something Lara really enjoyed talking about. Partially because, for most people, it was difficult to grasp the whats and whys, and she didn’t have the patience, nor the inclination to explain herself to anyone. Essentially, however, it was because it simply did not concern them. She enjoyed her privacy like that. Not that it stopped anyone from cooking up the most ridiculous nonsense about her expeditions.
It could have been only the exhaustion catching up with her, or the alcohol made her head feel lighter and her lips looser, but in the dead of the night, something felt different in the confines of the small balcony. She saw no harm in sharing insignificant titbits about herself. Especially to someone so eager and willing to get himself killed to help her with her mission; he’d more than earned it.
She emptied her glass. “I suppose you could say I grew up in a ‘creepy cult’ as well…”
He raised an eyebrow.
She nodded. “But,” she said in a measured tone,” let’s just say two weeks alone in the snowy mountains does wonders to one’s mindset.” She paused to think for a moment. “You know, if it were up to my parents, right now I’d be sitting quietly in a castle with a pile of gold, playing housewife to a husband I hate.”
He burst out laughing so hard, he choked on his drink.
“You? Staying put?” He coughed.
She chuckled. “That’s what I thought.”
3:57 AM
Lara was never a people person. Not even in her teens, when she had made a modicum of effort to fit into high society. The endless vapid talk of money and affairs, and the mere idea of having to partake in these insipid conversations for the rest of her life, were about as enticing as a snake-infested pit. Frequently, she had snuck away to hide in the shooting range to enjoy the solitude. Until her parents banned her from there. Not that she didn’t enjoy talking with other people if they were interesting enough or had anything worthwhile to say, however. But an intact set of Canopic jars was easier to come by than that kind of person.
As their tete-a-tete went on, Kurtis turned out to be a surprisingly pleasant conversational partner. When he wasn’t preoccupied with antagonising her for his own amusement, that is. He was even smarter than she had first thought and showed himself to be an intriguing mixture of reserve, sincerity, and an almost performative cynicism. But above all, he had that rare, admirable quality of not putting her to sleep with incessant prattle and spoke only when he had something to say.
There was also something about the way he was sitting by her feet, cleaning his gun.
“…his idea was that there are a lot of people out there with our abilities, they just need training to use them.” A groan left his lips. “People like you,” he said.
He furrowed his brow in concentration as he inserted the bore brush into the barrel. With his slow, precise movements, he was very attentive, making sure no spot was left neglected.
“Me? I doubt any amount of training would let me use telekinesis.”
He gently wiped down the frame and trigger. Her mind wandered to the Louvre galleries.
“And the whole world’s grateful for that. But you’re smarter, more athletic, resourceful, and resilient than most people. And you managed to single-handedly take down an Atlantean ruler.” He glanced up at her. “Yes, I did my homework,” he said.
He tapped his slender fingers on the ground impatiently as he looked for the lubricant.
“Because I went out and made my own luck,” she said, handing the can to him, “not because I was born with special abilities.”
“Try and tell that to my father. It was all about fate and destiny and that kinda crap with him.” He started reassembling the gun with the same gentleness and smoothness he took it apart. “That’s why I walked away from the order,” he muttered.
“And why I see you use your abilities so rarely during a fight,” said Lara.
“C’mon, Lara, you know the challenge makes it fun. And besides”—he smirked—“you wouldn’t be able to keep up with me.”
She tilted her head. “Because stalking and ambushing an unsuspecting woman are fair play, aren’t they?”
She finally had his total attention. He froze and put down the pistol; One swing from his drink, then he got back on his feet and ambled towards her. He leaned in. She could now feel the heat radiating from his skin, with the clean scent of plain soap mixed with the earthy scent of gun oil lingering around him. The same oil she’d used to clean her own pair of Brownings years ago, before she lost them.
The last time they had been this close, he'd held that same gun jammed into her chin and robbed her blind.
“They’re means to an end,” he murmured in her ear. Her heart was in her throat.
His body shifted to leave, and her mind snapped back to reality. Her arm flew to the doorframe, blocking his way.
Kurtis stopped in his tracks and searched her face with a puzzled look. His striking blue eyes darted to the door, her mouth, chest, mouth again, then settled for her eyes, questioning. As if he didn't know what was coming for him.
Oh no, I’m not letting you off the hook that easily this time, she thought.
Her lips curled into an impish smile.
“Why were you stalking me in Paris?”
“There was no stalking, Lara. I needed the Painting. You had it.” He grabbed her shoulder and pushed to move her out of his way, but she held her ground.
“That doesn’t explain why you were following me around before I had it.”
He glanced in the direction of the door again.
“Then why not kill me?” he asked.
“You had my attention and”—she brought her hand to his face—“at any rate, it would have been a shame for something to happen to that pretty face of yours, wouldn’t it?” She caressed his cheekbone with the back of her hand.
“Cute.” Despite his dismissive tone, he cracked a smile.
Satisfied to see him being the flustered one for a change, she shifted her weight to let him go, and gasped in surprise when he gripped her shoulder tightly and held her in place.
“You were causing trouble,” he said.
“And yet, here you are with me. Birds of a feather, Kurtis.”
“More like suckers for punishment.”
Lara pursed her lips, the rhythmic tapping of her fingers on the doorframe filling the silence.
“I don’t know,” she replied with a smirk, “you’ve been alright so far. When you’re not being an insufferable prat, that is.”
He returned her smirk. “You too. When you’re not doing your fancy acrobatics on my nerves.”
She leaned in closer, until his breath brushed her lips.
“Where else should I perform them?” Her voice dropped.
He slid his hands down her arms, as his grip on her shoulder softened, leaving oil marks and goosebumps on her skin. Eyes darted to her lips again. She held her breath.
“You’re all bark no bite, Lara.”
His shoulder brushed against hers when he walked inside, leaving her and the gun undone.
5:00 AM
The night had nearly ended. Stars faded away, and the first rays of the morning sun mocked Lara’s sleeplessness, urging her to go back to bed, but she adamantly ignored them. Though her head and eyelids were made of lead, the only one who was any closer to falling asleep were her buttocks on the hard floor tiles. Besides, it was already too late—or early—to go back to bed now. She could get some sleep on the road anyway.
The cool morning air prompted her to scoot even closer to Kurtis, using his body as her personal space heater. Another advantage she’d discovered of having a partner. His warm hand rested on her knee; she made no effort to move it.
“I never thanked you,” he slurred.
She had stopped drinking a while ago, but that didn’t stop Kurtis from carrying on. On the contrary, actually. He'd been drinking and smoking dutifully, and the effects of drinking almost half a bottle of hard liquor were beginning to show very clearly.
“For what?” She yawned. She must have fallen asleep and missed out on an important context.
“You shouldn’t be here, but… you’re here,” he said.
She nodded. He was right, she really shouldn’t have been there. Despite her exploits over the last three months, she had been technically retired. And it wasn’t like he couldn’t handle things on his own perfectly fine. But her mantra of the past four years—that she would never set a foot again inside a tomb unless it was her own—had gradually grown quiet, and a drive she hadn’t felt in a long time replaced it. So no, she shouldn’t have been there. At the same time, she was never one for doing what she should be doing, so that was more than enough reason for her to be there.
“You've got better things to do than,” he said, gesticulating wildly, trying to hush an invisible fly away, “running ‘round here, hunting whatever and Nephilim and… whatever.”
“I reckon the same could be said about you, no?”
He shook his head. “No. This mess is my responsibility to clean up”—he pointed at himself—“or my father’s, dunno. He was a dumbass. But not yours. Not that I’m… y’know… not grateful, or anything.”
She could barely contain her smile. “I’m also grateful for your help.”
He gave her a look, his gaze unfocused.
“Lara, I know why you were in Paris… why you got nightmares,” he said, then lowered his voice, as if they were being listened in on, “you talk. In your sleep. And I did my you know what… homework.”
She was unsure if she wanted to respond to that or how she should even respond if she did. He was probably going to forget all this anyway. Was he?
He shushed her and continued.
“And it’s none of my business, I get it. I’m not gonna… y’know, pester. But Lara…” He paused. “It’s fine, trust me. You’re too good to just… stay put. Go out, get new nightmares. Fun ones...”
“What?”
“Worked for me…”
Lara was at a loss for words. She thought about all her decisions, everything that had led her up to this point in her life, where she was sitting on the cold balcony of a run-down Turkish hotel, taking advice from a drunk psychic. But their heart-to-heart in the past two hours and his barely coherent monologue had been more comforting than anything anyone had told her since she had returned from Egypt. She looked at him and then a sudden realisation struck her: no one had ever come as close to getting her as Kurtis did, drunk or sober. She never bothered to explain herself to him because she'd never need to.
Not even the liquor had hit her that strongly. She burst out laughing at the absurdity of it all. If he weren’t so sloshed, she would have kissed him.
“Don’t worry, I’ll thank you… If I get out of this alive,” he said.
She had to take a few deep breaths before she could talk again.
“’If’? If you want to be grateful, then stop following your father’s footsteps, and actually stay alive until we’re done with this, Love.” She put her hand on his. “Then maybe I can show you exactly how grateful I am for your help.”
He nodded. She saw on his face that her sentence was far too long for his inebriated mind. He stared at her with narrowed eyes for a bit before he shook his head.
“You woulda made a lousy housewife.”
“And you, a lousy Lux Veritatis.”
He nodded again with a knowing smile, then dropped his head onto her shoulder and promptly fell asleep.
The empty liquor bottle fell out of his hand, clinking on the tile as it rolled away. Bird chatter from the distance and a fresh morning breeze filled the empty streets again with life. All that remained from the previous night were them, a closed nightclub, and the taste of lemon still on her tongue. Even the balcony now felt larger in the oncoming daylight.
Lara wondered whether falling asleep would turn the night into a vague, nonsensical dream one forgot about upon waking up. Would have been a pleasant change from the usual nonsense her brain cooked up last night. It already felt like it had happened much longer ago than it actually had. It’s not like it mattered, though. In a few hours, everything would go back to normal. One of them was going to almost get themselves killed, act smug about it, the other one was going to try to instigate a fight for kicks. And with some luck, she’d be woken up by a more fun nightmare the next night.