Perfidy Part 5

First, I’d like to say two things. As soon as I finish Perfidy I’ll be removing it from the blog. Secondly, a lot of things are changing with the story and worldbuilding, so plot holes will exist. Those will be fixed in later drafts of the book. Thanks for understanding.

The entirety of Rowhux knew that Jael had saved him. It had been all over the news. No cameras were allowed inside the assembly, but they waited outside. They always waited outside. So of course they were there as Jael drug Mocha from the ruins of the building. He hated her for that. Not even two hours had passed and a dozen media posts already highlighted her heroic actions and called him to renounce his anti-nor stance. He chucked his phone across the room and sat on his bed. 

“Mo?” His mother wrapped on his door lightly. “Son, are you in there?’

“Yes, Bala, I’m here.” 

“May I come in?” 

“Yes, Bala.” he sighed as his mother walked in. 

Her brilliant auburn hair rippled down her back, the silver streaks shining. Mocha had first seen his mother when he was nine. She had journed from Rowhux to Farnai, his birth land, where everything was bold, including the people with their ebony hair and almond-shaped eyes. He had never seen anyone with red hair before, so before the papers were signed and sealed to bring him back to her country, he had already given her the name Bala. red. It had turned into a synonym for mother in their household. 

“What’s wrong, Mocha?”

“Have you seen the news?”

“You know I never pay attention to those things, dear.” She shook her head. “They bore me to death.” 

“Someone assassinated Lord Cactus.” Tears stung Mocha’s eyes, but he wouldn’t cry. Not now. 

“Oh, Mocha.” Her long fingers caressed his cheek. “Oh my son, I’m so sorry. Do they know who did it?” 

Mocha hesitated. He knew who it was– who it must have been. And because it had happened, there needed to be a retaliation. Those who committed the crime must be put back in their place. “It was Jael and her nors.” 

“Jael? The pretty brunette?” 

Mocha sighed. “Yes, Bala, that one.” 

“Such a pity. She was a beautiful girl.” 

“Yes. Bala, you’ve wanted to go visit Anniotter, right?”

“Of course.” She smiled. “It seems like a lovely place.” 

“How would you like to go visit right now? You and Blit?”

His mother’s face wrinkled. “You want us to go away? You think it’s not safe here.”

“Yes. Just for a little while. I have to stay back, but you don’t need to be in the middle of all of this. I don’t want you hurt.” 

She sighed, resigned. “Alright. I’ll have the servants pack immediately. We’ll leave at daybreak.” 

“Thank you, Bala.” 

She stood and ruffled her long gown. “Will I see you before we go?” 

Mocha’s eyes flickered across the room to his dark coat draped across the chair. He should get out. If he could go to where the nors congregated, he might have a chance to gather more information. He already had a small army on his side, according to the general. Rowhux itself didn’t have much military force. “No, you will not. Have a safe trip.” 

“Be strong, Mocha. Lead your people with pride.” 

* * *

The automobile pulled in front of the run-down-bar. It had taken Mocha over an hour to reach the building, on the south outskirts of the city. He tipped his driver and stepped from the cab. The building was tall, nearly as tall as his mansion, but with a flat front and board up windows. The sounds floating from the upper floors insinuated that more than drinking was going on in the upper rooms. Mocha ran a hand through his hair, already more rumpled than normal. This was going to be successful. This part of town was predominately nors. All he had to do was hide his power and he’d get what he needed. 

The music and sound overwhelmed him the moment he stepped through the door. Only dinkey neon signs illuminated the room. And Mocha suddenly realized that a long trench coat was very out of place when ninety percent of the customers were fifty-percent dressed or less. 

A dark-skinned waitress appeared at his side and mouthed something. She was short, her head full of intricate blue-and-black braids barely hitting Mocha’s shoulder. With the noise and height difference, Mocha made out approximately none of the words. He shrugged and leaned down. He could tell she was yelling, but he could still hardly hear her. 

“Can I help ya, sweetcheeks?” 

He internally cringed at the nickname. Dirty nor and their stupid slang. He tried to imitate her poor accent, but each word felt goopy in his mouth. “Yeah, ya can.”

“Beer? Aulderfruit wine?”

It was hard to keep his eyes off her body. A bra decorated with blue and silver studs was all that covered her torso. Her midriff was fully exposed, and only a flashy short skirt covered her waist. “I… I need to talk to someone.”

“What kind of someone, love?” 

“Anyone. A nor. Someone— The rebellion.” Mocha cursed himself. Blasted accents

“Ohh.” She winked. “Well I can set that up for you, hon. We got lotsa rebellious girls ’round these parts. Give me just a second.”

Mocha huddled in the corner and watched the couples on the dance floor, dancing too close. The music blasted in his ears, and even in the dull light of the neon signs, the worn interior of the building was still evident. 

A girl appeared at his arm, her sleek silver hair pulled into a ponytail. He frowned at the heavy makeup around her eyes. Nors needed to find better jobs. The girl put her hand on his chest. “Sali said you wanted to talk to me?” 

He stepped back, pulled away. He didn’t want to talk to her in here. He didn’t want to talk to her at all. The fog of the bar seemed to choke him. “Yeah.” 

“Do you want to get a room? There’s a few open.”

A room? He shook his head. “Can we go outside to talk?”

“Outside…” She hesitated. “Sure, we can go outside.” 

It was a relief to step back into the cool night air. Mocha took deep breaths, attempting to ignore the pulsing stench of the slums. The girl guided him by the arm, behind the building, into the shadows beside a dumpster. Mocha stepped back as a  rat scurried across his path. The girl purchased lightly on the edge of a dumpster. “You know, the rooms upstairs are  a little cleaner.” 

“I do not want a room upstairs. I want to talk to you back here.” 

“Alright, you’re the customer, Mister.” She pulled the strap of her flashy shirt off her shoulder. 

Mocha realized in an instant what she thought they were doing. “No, no. Stop. I just need to talk to you.” 

Confusion knit the girl’s eyebrows. “You don’t want my services? Wait, is this about Cassandra and the secr–” 

“What do you know about the revolution?” 

“The– Hold on, sir, you’re going kind of fast.” She curled her hair around her finger. “Revolution?”

“Yes, nor rebellions. To take over the government.” 

“Nors are taking over?” The girl giggled. “Thank goodness, finally the people will have a say and all that.” 

Rage flared in Mocha’s chest, but the girl didn’t seem to notice the emerald tendrils flickering between his fingers. How dare she insult the government. How dare she, an ignorant nor making money from prositution, think that her people could rule a country. Think that her people deserved to rule a country. Still, that was exactly why Mocha was there. To stop it. 

“So,” Mocha leaned against the dumpster beside her. “What do you know about the revolution?”

“Nothing. First I’ve heard about it is from you.” 

“No, you’re kidding me.” He let his mouth slide into an easy smirk. “Come on, girl. What do you know about it?” 

She scooted away slightly. “Mister, I don’t know anything. What are you, a recruiter or something?”

“Something.” He winked. “Are you sure you’ve heard nothing?”

“Well,” She smoothed her hair behind her ear. “I might have heard a little something.” 

Mocha stood up a little straighter. “What have you heard?” 

She grinned. “You’re the one taking up my time, so you’re gonna have to pay for that information.” 

Mocha grabbed her wrist. She wasn’t going to get away for something like this. “Tell me,” he hissed. “Tell me if you value your life.” 

The girl’s eyes were wide, and she twisted her wrist, trying to squirm out of his grip. “No, mister. I’m not gonna tell you unless you pay me. And take your hands off of me.”

Mocha did so, slowly releasing his grip from her hand. He expected her to dart away like the coward she was, but she stayed. The hand he had gripped reached out, opening and closing for money. 

No, she wasn’t going to get money. She wasn’t’ going to get anything, but she would provide him information. He thrust his hand forward, shoving an emerald  burst of light into her chest. The girl flew backwards, pinned between the wall and the magic. Her eyes widened and she screamed. With his other hand, Mocha lifted the dumpster and thrust it against the girl, over and over again. She wouldn’t get away with this disrespect. He refused to let her. War was about to start and if she wouldn’t get information, he would force it out of her. 

“Stop!” The cry was strangled. “Stop, please.” 

He slammed the dumpster against her one more time, then let both drop to the ground. He strutted over to her. She’d have learned her lesson now. Except she was crumpled on the ground, bloody, limbs twisted at unnatural angles. Her eyes stared lifelessly at the light-polluted sky. He’d just killed a girl. He’d freaking killed a girl. 

Why did he feel so powerful from it?

“She wasn’t a nor, you know.” 

Mocha jumped, spun around. Nadia stood behind him, the dull glow of neon signs illuminating the smirk on her face. 

Mocha ran a hand through his hair. “Gosh, Nads. What are you doing here.” 

“You just killed someone,” Her voice was smooth. She licked her lips. “And you’re asking what I’m doing here?”

“I had business here.” 

“Killing someone?” She strutted over to examine the body. “That’s a form of business, I guess.” 

“I didn’t mean to kill her.” 

“Sure you didn’t.” Nadia boosted herself up onto the dumpster, crossing her legs at the knees. “Sure you didn’t. You know, Jael was talking a lot about you tonight. She’s got plans.” 

“Of course she’s got plans, she’s Jael.” 

“Plans you won’t like.” 

“Against me?” 

Nadia’s smile crawled across her lips. “Well, I guess I shall leave you to your murdering anyone you think is a nor business. I’m sure Jael’s somewhere on your list. Don’t get caught.” 

She slid off the dumpster and landed on high-heeled feet with the agility of a cat and disappeared onto the shadows.

Jael on the list? Mocha hadn’t considered Jael being on the list. He heard noise at the front of the shop. They would find the girl and they’d find him standing over her. He’d be arrested. It would stir the nor sentament. 

He fled.