#carisa

Carisa and Nikole

(The Sacrifice Of Callirhoe, Jean-Honoré Fragonard)

As a retainer and, admittedly, a woman who thrives on being needed, it has been my ultimate goal to do all but predict the future in service to my masters. I think of what you need before you need it. I know where you’ll be, I know what you’ll be doing and with whom; I know what you’ll be eating, where you’ll be seated, the view out the window nearest to your meal setting, and even who will be preparing your food. I am the tangible hands of fate guiding you along invisibly through meticulously-planned schedules and the intimate knowledge of your preferences such that you never have to think about them.

This is power I can harness. It’s power I thrive on wielding behind my back, that nourishes me. But sometimes I get an immense humbling, a plan that was so ill-conceived, so steeped in godawful calculation that it was doomed to fail from the start. Something so unbelievably fucked that there’s no clever retainer magic in the world that can fix it. Such as when Ezen was murdered before I could fake his death and buy myself some time before dealing with the real problem—Luther.

You see, we had an agreement. He was going to take some time to explain to Miyasuke that he needed to “die” before I...pulled the trigger, if you will. In the meantime, I was going to get back to work with Luther as though nothing were amiss. And that’s where it both began and ended.

“Morning,” I chime as I enter his office, ignoring the disturbing, tainted fog that seemed to follow his every step these days. I cradle a clipboard and prattle on, easy as you please. “I’ve got a shipment scheduled aaat...” A peek down the list. “Approximately 11 bells, as I recall, but we’ll see if they manage to make it. The usual guy fell ill, so they’ve got a replacement. You know how that goes.”

Luther doesn’t respond, but instead beckons me forward to plant my chin between his thumb and forefinger in an affectionate gesture that I’m all too familiar with. “Come here, Carisa.” That name still doesn’t sit right. At this point, I've insisted that he call me elsewise enough that I know he doesn't because he chooses not to. What can I do? Cry about it?

Once I meet his hand with a warm smile, he steadies my chin and strokes my hair. Ours has always been a relationship that crossed professional boundaries in admittedly very expected ways, and this was no exception. His wife knows what we do and turns the other cheek because she's got it made; a baby, a huge mansion, and an endless stream of champagne even when there's nothing to celebrate. I guess that’s your prize for selling your soul. When his rough fingers make contact with the fuzz of my ears, I’m immediately sure our morning meeting will wind up with my face held down to a desk while I wonder for the thousandth time if this would finally be the time I wouldn't walk right ever again.

"Good mood today, huh?"

"You've always been my favorite kitten; you know that."

My heart thumps shamefully. I’m a simple bitch. "Yeah, it's never been a question, I think..."

"Which is why it pains me to tell you that I have used you." He delivers the news at the same time he draws his hand back, leaving me caught woefully unprepared. "But that's alright," he continues. "Betrayal for betrayal."

My ears flatten and I take a half-step away. My mouth summons the only words it can, dumb as I am. "Excuse me?"

"You didn't think I thought you would actually kill Ezen, did you...?" He rises for what feels like forever, unfolding upward in his impossible height. My stomach rises in kind into my throat. I'm dead. I'm surely dead.

"It seemed a little obvious for you, but you've asked me to do stranger things than that. Why not?"

"I needed someone to give him a false sense of security about the situation and assumed you wouldn't defy me openly..." He moves his attention to the window nearby and frowns. "A distraction while I sent another to take care of it. You're fired."

I turn to stone, frozen or paralyzed or both, the distinction between the two blurred in one swipe. The world holds its breath as I shuffle through so many different ways to respond, and finally settle on a truth that won’t change a thing. "I do love you, Luther."

"I love you too, Carisa, but I can't trust you. I'm sorry about Ezen, but it had to be done. We'll see eye to eye again eventually, I'm sure of it...but not now. Please go."

Ezen had this talk with me some time ago, about doing the right thing. He wanted me to give up the one redeeming quality I have, which is my loyalty, and all I could muster in response was that it hurt too much. That doing the right thing felt like shit, and it did, and does. I made excuses. I wanted to save face. Gods, I want to save face. I can’t this time. I don't want to die, but I’m ready. I’m ready to be good, I think.

"I don't think it did have to be done." Too late to turn back. "I think if that were the case, I would have seen it by now. I know you better than most. I really miss you, you know?"

He moves his attention back to me and shakes his head slowly. "It's us or them."

"There isn't a lot of 'us' in this one. It's you and...the others. The ones who made the pact. My name isn't on that list. I'm not 'us'." It feels unsettling to be talking about it so openly. To just say to his face what so many others have noticed but couldn’t vocalize: he’s not like other people anymore. He’s not even a people at all, not now.

"Are you so sure...? You're marked by the River. You don't belong here any more than the rest of us."

"I didn't make the deal with the Lobby. You know that. You know what I did." I want to be right. I really, really want to be right.

"Are you so certain it matters?"

"If it doesn't matter, then what purpose is it?"

"There's a good chance that you'll be forced to submit your new life with all the rest. If the Lobby goes, so does the River, Carisa."

"I don't want to die." I look away finally, pull my eyes from his inescapable, intimidating presence. I was reborn in that place, in that darkness, and by his will and Ezen’s resilience, I got to see sunlight again. Who did I even owe anymore? Whose debts were steeper? How could I possibly calculate? Have I paid enough? "I didn't want to die the first time and I sure as hell don't want to now. But I love these people, too, and you don't."

"Ezen is already dead, but Khagatai was spared for it. Can't you appreciate that...?"

I am so stupid. How arrogant am I that I thought I could outmaneuver? He knows me just as well as I do him. Loyalty, baby. My godsdamned undoing. I trade one man for another like cards in my hand. "There's no way this wasn't going to hurt no matter what, huh?"

Carisa

(Alexander Cutting the Gordian Knot, Jean-Simon Berthélemy)

I’ve got a gift for talking too much, and having a seasoned hunter reach for his sword with the intent to kill me didn’t preclude me from accessing it. My mouth was moving before I could even think about the words, the exact sentences that would spill out. I’d pacified tyrants so many times before, but they all had similar impulses; they wanted to be soothed, to be made right, to have their righteous indignation validated and echoed. This was new. This was scary.

“See, I was thinking you might come to that conclusion, and unfortunately I’m going to have to decline,” I said smoothly, hoping my nerve wouldn’t shatter. I gestured at the gleaming blade of his katana and swallowed the lump in my throat. “Put it away. You’re going to regret it if you don’t.” As if I could maneuver my puny daggers against this man. Such hubris.

“There are no choices here, Carisa.”

“I know you’re not going to give this up, but I’m also not planning on dying. Bit of a stalemate, mm?”

“You could run,” he offered peaceably, and although that was my exact inclination in the moment, to turn and flee far, unfortunately greater machinations were still at hand.

“If I do, you know we’re going to need to have this conversation again.”

“Is it a conversation we need to have...?”

“I can’t go back to Luther until you’re dead. Or ‘dead’. This thing is much bigger than either of us, Ez. But you have to trust that I haven’t forgotten you. Or anything we talked about.”

“He will know if you lie.” I didn’t want to admit it, but I knew he was right.

“How?”

“It isn’t how, it just is.”

“Unless you’ve got a better idea, that’s what I’m banking on right now—can you just put the damn sword away already? Honestly.” I let out an uneasy huff of air, unable to focus any longer with the executioner looming fulms from my face. Who could blame me? “Just...you lay low until I have time to finish my work, and then he won’t be a problem to either of us anymore. Or...until he comes back.”

His next question caught me by surprise. “Did you do this?”

“Do what?”

“Him.”

The implication loomed heavy. Luther was a monster and we both knew it. Had known it for some time, in my case. Deep down, I was happy to be free of him when he died...or when I thought he had. I mourned, I moved on. And when he made contact out of the blue, it was with...both elation and dread that I accepted the invitation. I had quietly been dreaming of a return to older times. Never in a thousand years would I have guessed what he had become. Or had yet to become.

“What...he is? No. No, I didn’t.” Emotion finally made a clean crack into my bravado. “Come on, Ezen, you know what I was up to after he died. I was with you. I didn’t wait six months and then go take a deep dive into the fucking River for him. Liana told me herself, in a prison cell, that he was, you know...gone gone. I figured that if anyone knew if he was in that place or not, it was her. And he wasn’t.”

Finally, fucking finally, the weapon went back into its sheath. I felt the pressure release from my chest so suddenly I could’ve cried. “He must’ve made it to the Lobby himself, then...”

“There’s not really another explanation, right? And if we kill him, well...he just goes back and takes a little vacation.”

“I’m aiming higher than that. I’m going to cut the knot clean. The link must be severed.”

“What do you mean? How do you plan do to that? I...have got some wheels in motion and it would be good to know...” I paused without warning as impulse welled up like an overtaking wave. “Hang on. First, can I, like...have a fucking hug or something? It’s been awhile, and...honestly, I’ve missed you.”

I could see the wheels turning in his head. Despite whatever mystic force had filled his head and set him on this strange mission, I could see a glimmer of familiarity. The hard-ass who got me back on my feet when I was too busy moping was still there. The nod precludes the words. “I trust you. Come here.”

Despite the assurance, I kept my hands up and approached him like a wild predator. No sudden motions. This is how some fools die, and anyone with half a brain knows a sheathed katana is still a perfectly deadly one. But I did the calculations and determined that if I was going to get cut in half, it may as well be attempting something honest for once in my life. When I got within close range, I threw caution to the wind and flung myself around his middle. No tricks. No daggers to the back. Just sweet relief. “I dunno what the fuck that fall out of the mansion window did to you, but it’s still good to see your face.”