Retta
When he looked back again, she was closer than he expected. She had been gaining on him for the last hour. It was a well-traveled road, but still, you never know with these kinds of people. In all likelihood, she was just another traveler who was in a bigger hurry than he was, but you can't be too careful.
Again, he glanced over his shoulder, and continued to do so every few minutes until she was within shouting distance. He started to pick up his pace, when she spoke:
"Hollo Stranger."
"Hello?" The middle aged man's tone made clear that he had little interest in continuing the conversation.
"Are you headed to Berkeso? Want some company?" The man looked at her with a mix of shock and muted aversion.
"Oh no, I'm sorry. I didn't mean THAT kind of company. Just someone to jabber to for the next day or so until we get to Berkeso, if that is where you’re going." As she got closer, the man studied the girl, trying to determine what kind of threat she was.
On her face, along with her dark eyes and reddish skin, sat a wide, closed mouthed smile. It made him feel a little bit more comfortable. As she bobbed her head, lazily glancing along the tree line, she seemed to take delight in the birds and small creatures that occasionally darted into view.
Of course, her upbeat and lighthearted attitude stood in stark contrast to the woman's appearance. She had a lean, athletic figure. Despite the hood covering most of her head, she was clearly young, 20 at most. Of course, who doesn't have a nice figure at that age, thought the man.
"Tell me your name, friend. I promise I won't tell a soul." He gave her a sideways glance, and wondered if she was baiting him that kind of comment. Her face showed no awareness of his feelings on the matter.
"Marat."
"My name is Retta. It's more of a nickname because my real name is long. Too long to say all the time. Do you want to know my real name?"
"Not particularly." Retta seemed unfazed by the rudeness, but then Marat had a thought. Despite the girl obviously being involved in some sort of criminal activity, she didn't seem interested in him and probably knew how to fight. If there was trouble between here and Berkeso, she would be useful. "Uh, I mean, since we aren't going to be traveling together that long, we don't need to get into details. But if you want to talk until we get there, I guess I can listen. Just don't start talking that jibber jabber to me."
"Oh no, I don't even speak it. Once Mother disappeared, Father would never let us speak in those 'damnable words' again. That’s what he called them. He said that's what got her killed. I've pretty much forgotten it all now. "
"I thought you said she disappeared?" Marat thought he caught Retta in a lie.
"We don't know for sure. Father insisted something bad happened to her. But where we lived, nobody would have done anything, not to her at least. The people in our town loved her, in spite of, you know."
"So, she was like you? Your Father too? Not all of you are like that." The man blurted out. He immediately regretted it.
"Both my parents were. Father eventually just gave up. The town loved Mother, but no one really liked Father. He was always just a little too grumpy for them, and with how we look, people get the wrong idea. The town turned on him pretty fast. Eventually he couldn't leave the house without rocks and bottles being thrown at him.
“I used to say all the time, 'Father, just smile and be nice. Its not that hard, and then they will like you.' But of course, he couldn’t, not after what happened to Mother. Eventually, he stopped leaving the house. Then stopped getting out of bed...But he made his choice, right? Nothing to be done about it."
"Um, yeah, I guess." Marat actually agreed with Retta, but it felt strange to hear it coming from her.
"I was 12 years old.” Retta continued unprompted, “It wasn't long before some of the townsfolk came along and ran me off so they could have my house for a 'better sort of people'. That's what they were saying to each other as they were chasing me away. My parents were poor, and also not exactly the right kind of people, know what I mean?" Retta gave a sly wink.
"Uh, I don't know...I mean, no, you're..." Marat stammered.
"It's okay. I know YOU aren't like that, but a lot of people are. I learned that pretty quick after living on the streets for a few weeks. I got caught a few times, but generally I’m faster than most, and had to get faster in order to survive. Of course, that only gets you out of so many scrapes." Across Retta's face flashed a moment of mingled anger and fear, but it was gone so fast Marat thought he imagined it.
“This one time I got cornered by a group of men. They were yelling awful things at me, saying they were going to send me ‘back home’. They had every intention of it too. In fact, one of them was swinging his rusty old sword straight for my head when Nic came along and saved me. That's person I am going to see.
“You should have seen it Marat. He took out 4 grown men with a waive of his hand. He didn't even look scared. ” Retta was waiving her arms around like she was fighting a horde of goblins, acting out the scene. She paused, a little out of breath. “At the time he looked so cool. Turns out, he's just kind of an asshole and doesn't get worked up about anything except his stupid books. And, of course, every man was drunk as skunks. But still, if he hadn't shown up, I wouldn't be here today to tell you this story."
“He was a Warlock. You know what that is?" Retta didn't even pause for him to answer, but Marat nodded anyway. "And for some reason, he saw something in me. As you know, our kind often has similar ‘situations’ to Warlocks. My family has a similar, uh, ‘situation’. Luckily, our ‘situation’ doesn’t come with the same kind of obligations as Nic's. Our 'situation' gets passed down Mother to daughter, kinda like your blue eyes Marat. You probably got them from your Mother...wait, Father, right? Oh, wait, no details, right? Sorry.
Marat stopped, "I'm getting hungry. I'm going to stop and eat. You can wait, but I don't have extra, so please don't ask."
"Oh, that's fine. I actually have something for myself anyway. I would never expect anyone else to watch out for me. Not unless I returned the favor first, right?" Retta plopped straight down on the dirt and opened her bag. Marat, on the other hand, found a mossy log just off the road and took out a blanket to lay over the log. He proceeded to lay out a meal of bread, cheese, and nuts.
"I just have dried meat. It's easier to carry and usually it's all I need." Retta grabbed a chunk of dried meat from her bag and began gnawing.
"I heard that about you...kind of...people...persons..."
Retta aimed a closed mouthed smile at Marat, "It does have some benefits looking like me. It's great when I need information. Usually, people will just tell me whatever I want know just so I'll go away.
"Maybe that's why Nicodemus kept me with him," Retta wondered, speaking more to herself than Marat. "He made sure I was fed and I was safe. Eventually he decided to start teaching me some things. Maybe he thought it would make me more useful to him. Or maybe he didn't want to keep looking after me, and if I could take care of myself, you know.
“Once he thought I could handle myself, he started asking me to go on small errands. Usually to pick up books, sometimes other things." Marat glanced in her bag and saw 5 books poking out, each with old, leathery bindings. “I have been following his somber ass around ever since. I don't mean to sound ungrateful. Once you get past his apathy to pretty much everything except his books, he is a good man.
“I owe him everything.” Retta reflected. “But of course, Nic never acted that way and he was always generous with what little he had. Not even when He was asking me to run all over mountains and forge rivers to find his stupid books. Nic showed me as much gratitude as he was capable of, you know, given his condition."
"Condition?" Marat was actually getting drawn into her stories, but was having difficulty keeping track of the details.
"His pact with Mephistopheles."
"Meph..., oh my…, I...” Marat looked scared.
Retta explained, "See, there's this book, and it's a whole thing. I knew about it because..." Retta gestures at herself and removes her hood to reveal two curled horns, small and jet black, "well, we ‘persons’ pass that kind of information down in our families, even when we don't keep much else of our history."
Marat shifted, nervous at the sight of her horns. Why do they have to shove it in your face, he thought?
"Nic actually suggested my name change, since most of us change our name when we reach adolescence. Nic's always good about respecting my heritage, even when I'm not. Then again, you know the sort of persons out type spends time with: thieves, rapists, and murderers. So maybe Nic’s a creep, who knows. I am drawn to those people. It’s just in my nature." Retta finally stopped talking and watched Marat for a long time, her expression giving away nothing.
"Well, I think I'll be heading down the road now. You can come along or not." Marat was trying to sound casual, but his tone had shifted. He began to pack up his things, placing them in his bag hurriedly, but for no particular reason he could understand.
Before he took his first step down the road, he felt a sudden coldness in his chest. He paused, a little stunned. At first he thought he felt pain, but then realized it was just cold, cold all the way through.
"See, like I said, people tell me things just to make me go away.” Retta whispered in his ear, moving up behind him with surprising speed. “All those errands I went on. I asked a lot of questions. I learned a lot of things." Retta's voice had changed from affable to pure grizzled hatred.
Marat tried to struggle, but Retta put her hand firmly on his shoulder, "I wouldn't do that. I currently have a ‘Dagger of Last Rites’ in your back. You can only use it once, and I've been saving it.”
Marat froze. “You should know, if you move, you die. Also, when it comes out, you will die. In fact, nothing is going to save you now. I wanted to make sure you knew, your mind unclouded by pain or disfigurement, that you are all alone and will die in terror as I whisper hateful things in your ear. Just like you did to my mother."
Suddenly Marat remembered that night. They were obviously evil, and yet everyone was suppose to tolerate them like they were just another race. It seemed like forever ago that she was talking that jibber-jabber. Marat had just had enough and wanted to teach one of them a lesson. She probably enjoyed being sent back where she belonged. Clearly this girl was better off without her lowlife parents. In some ways, it worked out for everyone. Marat almost said so out loud.
Retta continued to whisper in a low, growling voice, "I've been following you for a few years, always just behind you, missing you by a few days or hours. Imagine how amused I was when I found out your trail went right along my path. It really was very lucky that Nic got word to me to meet him in Berkeso.
"And you really do move around a lot Marat, but you know what? I don't care why. I don’t want to know your story. You may be a noble, priest, or criminal. I don't care. Your story doesn't matter. This is my story, and you are just the end of my first chapter."
"By the way, my full name is Retribution." Retta was no longer speaking in a whisper, and slowly pulled out the knife.
Marat fell to the ground, eyes open to the sky. Retta kicked dirt in Marat's empty face before she continued down the road. She didn't bother to look in Marat's bag before she left. She got what she wanted, and she needed to get to Berkeso.
