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“Boys,” Beatrice barked. Drawers and sewing boxes rattled and clinked with the sound of shears and pins and needles hungry for blood. Behind her, along the shelves and counters, lengths of thread and bolts of cloth shivered and rippled as they threatened to come to life and obey their mistress. “Enough. I am not going to stand here and mediate this pissing contest all day. I have far better things to do. I don’t expect you to kiss and make up, but if you want to fight, don’t do it in here.”
Quill and I exchanged a last set of cutting glares. I scowled at him, then placed my hands across the top of Beatrice’s counter. He did the same, his fingers worrying at the leather book belt still waiting to be wrapped up and purchased.
Beatrice’s shop went still, no longer responding to her anger. “That’s better.”
“Peasant,” Quilliam muttered under his breath.
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“Fucking mama’s boy,” I mumbled back.
Beatrice curled her fingers around thin air, squeezing her hands into fists. “What I wouldn’t give to throttle the both of you.” Her hands flew to her old-timey register, the machine clanking as she punched in numbers. “Quill, I’m ringing you up right now. The sooner I get you out of here, the better.”
Quill smiled like he hadn’t just been insulted, then bowed his head politely. “Appreciated as always, Beatrice.”
Beatrice grumbled to herself as she swept Quill’s purchases into a couple of paper bags.
Florian cleared his throat. “Couldn’t you just slip everything into one of those bags that holds lots of things? One of those pocket dimensions.”
I scoffed. “You mean like the one that Quill exploded on us?”
Quilliam ignored me, smiling genuinely at Florian as he explained. “Actually, putting one inside the other could be potentially catastrophic. Causes dimensional collapse, and stuff in a wide radius begins to implode. I think I read that somewhere. Is it true, Beatrice?”
It was weird seeing the shift in his personality. Suddenly he was being so nice and polite. It didn’t change the fact that I still wanted to crush his windpipe. The Jekyll and Hyde act made me dislike him even more.
Beatrice finished the last of the wrapping up, sliding Quilliam’s wares across the counter. “It’s true, actually. It’s written in our warranty policy. We’re not liable for dimensional tears and breaches of any size. It’s a customer’s responsibility to handle our products with care. It’s also their responsibility to handle whatever steps through any rifts they might open in space-time.”
My eyebrows furrowed as I searched her store for the thing I’d ordered myself. “Does that – that doesn’t apply to the bracer I ordered, does it? I mean it’s not just going to spontaneously explode and take my hand off at the wrist, is it?”
Beatrice opened her mouth to answer when Quilliam let out a braying laugh. “Mason Albrecht is buying something from the great Beatrice Rex? I didn’t know you could afford such luxuries. What did you do, sell a kidney?”
“That’s it.” Beatrice stamped her foot and pointed at the door. It flew open, the bell above ringing ominously. “Out, Quilliam. I asked you to play nice. I’ll put everything on your account. Thanks for your custom, now get the hell out.”
Quill flipped his hair over his shoulder and sauntered towards the door. “Always a pleasure, Beatrice,” he sang out, his voice laced with mirth and malice.
I glared daggers – no, full-on spears into his back as he disappeared through the doorway. “God. Why is he such an asshole?”
Florian shook his head. “Dunno. You gotta admit, though, the boy’s got style.”
“Traitor,” I shot at him. Florian shrugged apologetically.
Beatrice sighed and shook her head. “You know, it’s strange. People talk, and Quilliam doesn’t exactly have the squeaky-cleanest reputation in the underground. But he’s been nothing but pleasant to basically everyone I know. Present company exempted.”
“He’s a sociopath. He knows just how to behave to please and charm people.” I pointed at the empty doorway. “Didn’t you see how his personality just shifted on a dime? The guy probably strangles kittens for fun.”
Beatrice Rex’s eyes narrowed at me. “I’m starting to understand what he was saying about slander. Gotta admit, I’m impressed by how vitriolic you get around him. It’s like you aren’t at all afraid about his connections to the Seven.”
I slid my thumb across the side of my nose and sniffed. “I’m not scared of him.” Note how I referred specifically to Quill, and not the Seven. “He’s just a spoiled brat living in his mom’s shadow. Under her skirts. Whatever, probably both.”
“Whoever that is,” Florian said. “Remember what Raziel told us before? Quill’s parentage isn’t exactly public knowledge.”
Beatrice cupped her chin, humming. “Interesting, isn’t it? How everyone seems to know that he’s connected to the demon princes, yet nobody has a firm idea of who actually spawned him. How convenient. He might even just be making it up. Makes you wonder.”
“Oh. I may have one or two ideas.”
The three of us turned as one towards the sound of the new voice. There, nonchalantly poking at one of the handbags, was Maharani, chronomancer and a Scion of the Lorica.
“How long have you been standing there?” Florian asked.
