As with most projects, not everything makes the cut. I’ve recently cut at least three characters and three to four chapters (I’ve lost count.)

I always want to put out my best work, but I thought it would be fun to show what didn’t make the cut. A little peek behind the curtain, if you will.

Things may change and I may Frankestein-cobble some bits together off the cutting room floor, but I wanted to share a character who only survived one draft, as I really liked her.

Her name is Gazi. She’s a mutant Leopard creature, known as changeling who roams a desert wasteland, forbidden to enter the city. But if that wasn’t bad enough, she has a delightfully chaotic, psionic squid named Darla keeping her alive after a failed lobotomy. Darla exists as “the voices in her head,” which was hilarious because no one believes her until they truly meet Darla/her mother Cuttles the giant squid.

But Gazi has a hard life. Rippers (thieves’ guild enforcers) employed her to catch runaways of the guild and to keep wild beasts and hyena-people tribes outside the city limits. Only if she catches the infamous Belladonna Bates can Darla’s true host go free and Gazi regain her sanity.

Why is she cut?

She’s being cut because she has two scenes and both of which hardly progress the plot, and I’ll share one in the end.

Other characters may progress the plot better and I designed her only to seam two other plot holes. I’ll share her chapter below, but there are a few others.

Originally I wrote Gazi as a regular bush walker guy with only one scene with plans to make him a love triangle, but that fizzled out, and I rewrote him as this new Gazi, giving her more substance with ties to the 38’s guild of our next clipped character.

Character two

Another character I’ve stewed on cutting is Copernicus, the glow gnome. I took inspiration from classic Sci-fi’s mole-men to make his kind and he was a tinker much like Leo from Lafonda and Leo Heroes of the Land. Sadly, unlike Leo, his plight goes far darker places.

Copernicus is a handler of a guild of steampunk mercs that on someone’s bad side. For decades he’s been imprisoned in a recently unearthed, missile-silo turned penitentiary known as Broken Arrow. The guards forced him to build fighting machines for the arena above the silo. Prisoners fought for spectacle. Countless died. Over and over, he’d build and rebuild before building again, until finally, he escaped.

Why is he being cut?

Firstly, this character defied the lore of the setting. Glow gnomes derive from select religious tribes known as the Faithful. The few religious minorities who escaped when the bombs dropped survived in the underground. The myst radiation made them the glow-gnomes. Or glow-nymphs, for the ladies.

Anyway, a true glow gnome would rather die than create instruments of war. This became a plot point in Vestige that Lot’s son joined Northstrand and it defied everything they stood for.

Copernicus also betrayed the lore of the setting in his kind’s scarcity. The mountains sit far from Narcopolis. While that could make more intrigue as to why, there are too many conflicts in hindsight. He needed more love that Psyche and Civez’s story couldn’t give him.

The second reason I cut him, I want glow gnomes to exist in their child-friendly form established within The Land of Magic. There is some bleed in the settings, but they aren’t exactly the same. This felt important to separate.

Thirdly, he seemed uninteresting. Sure, he’s a tinker, but that’s it. He had no backstory beyond being a handler who got caught. He needed more motivation to take on the final boss.

So what did I do?

I’m combining him with a new character I concocted. Copernicus made too many plot holes and I’m still patching those from Gazi. Darla/Cuttles’ true host will replace him.

This new character will combine Gazi and Copernicus in one tight package with a sweet motivation cherry on top, and I hope it will land well.

Sadly, I can’t settle on a name. Honestly, I may just name him Copper, short for Copernicus, but I loved the irony of naming him “Skips” as the main villain, his father, left him wheelchair bound.

One last Character 

I won’t keep you much longer, but I have one last character to share before giving my cut chapter. My point in all this is first drafts are messy and that is fine. Not everything we try the first go around comes out perfect. I thank God that Lafonda and Leo came out as good as it did, but it never happened over night.

I write as a “pantzer,” one who writes by the seat of their pants, and because of this, editing tends to come harder for me. In this phase I need to combine, adapt, and overcome any road blocks to the story, so I can keep my readers engaged and it’s hard. My point is this isn’t easy and it’s okay as an author to struggle with this once in a while. But in the struggle, don’t stay there. Work it out and maybe get some help from others more knowledgeable. I had to.

Anyways, this final character became a one-off villain. I planned on them returning as a mini-boss, but it never worked out. He stood like a cedar with one metallic eye and fearsome, half- man, half ancient machina. The problem? He had one scene! Ultimately, I could never justify it in this rewrite when another villainess would work some much better.

Her name’s Roxy the Mirage, a shapeshifter. She runs a ring of identity thieves conspiring with the other guilds for political power. She’s also the same succubae who threw this character in prison, so it’s all the more appropriate that she kills the woman he loves.

In conclusion,

I’m evil, I know, but this goes to show how pieces are flexible.

Given enough thought and prodding, everything can fall into place. Without further ado, here’s a chapter teetering on the chopping block. Gazi may have her one moment here, until she’s replaced by a new face. It feels bittersweet. A bit maddening too because I rewrote this chapter five times to find it’s best to cut Gazi for someone else. Again, I make cobble the second half into something usable, but here’s Gazi’s moment in the spotlight.

Full disclaimer – the following chapter has not been professionally edited and may contain the occasional typo. As such, this does not represent the final product.  

Chapter Sixteen: Morning Woes

The bush birds welcomed the dawn as the trio snored, sleeping in well into the morning. Filch rose first. The shrink stretched and leapt from his hammock to the pillows below. He arched his back and crept across Psyche’s covers pawing at her chest.

She rolled over and he leapt, squeaking. Filch licked her cheeks.

Psyche swatted. “Five more minutes.”

Filch squeaked in defiance. He scaled over her and tugged at her ear. “Filch, stop.”

She rolled over again on top of his tail before he cried and wriggled free. His tail tossed, fuming. His stomach roared, resembling a lioness on the prowl. Psyche left him no choice. This called for desperate measures.

Filch crept close to the edge of her pillow. Psyche’s pointed ear flicked and Filch sniffed. Target sighted. He spurted his tongue a like hummingbird giving her a wet willie.

Psyche flailed and squealed. “Alright, I’m up. I’m up!”

Filch chirped with delight and stood on her chest on his hind-legs.

“What is it?”

Filch pouted, giving her pitiful, puppy eyes while rubbing his tummy. His stomach growled.

Psyche groaned into her pillow. Filch inched for her face again and she caught him, his tongue part way out his snout. He combed her face instead.

Psyche smiled and set him on her shoulder. “Yeah, yeah I love you too, buddy.”

The humidity of the air set in, making her bed-head frizzle. She licked her thumb, fixing her part. She would like a good haircut one of these days, but for now it aided her disguise, she supposed. Throwing on the fur coat like a bathrobe, Filch paced shoulder to shoulder with anticipation.

Civez snorted like an ox sprawled on the cold dirt. Their fire glowed in embers.

Psyche bit her lip. Here he saved her and slept on the ground. She pulled off the covers, tucking him in, and as cutesy ears twitched in his sleep, she stroked back his mane, patting him on the shoulder. “Get some rest, you’ve earned it.”

She tiptoed over his body, pulling back the carpet over the door. Stepping outside, the light blinded her. Raucous savanna birds cawed beneath the scorching sun. Acacia and aloe dotted the hillside. And elephant grass bowed in a blind around their clearing. Filch’s stomach roared, and he whined.

“Ok, buddy. I’m working on it.”

She set him down. “What do you eat, love?”

Filch turned his head. He squeaked and gestured with two fingers, pointing to his mouth.

“Hungry?”

Filch nodded.

“Yes, but what for? Can you show me?”

Filch squeaked on his hind legs as if speaking to her.

Psyche shook her head. “Sorry, I can’t understand you. Maybe I did before, but now…”

Filch whined in disappointment.

“Aw, I’m sorry I wish I could.”

Filch sniffed his nose in the air. His eyes widened, and he darted into the eight-foot grass.

“Filch, where are you going? Hey, wait up.”

She rushed after him, pulling back the heavy stalks, cracking her in the face. She heard a whistle and yip, and when she broke free of the edge of the grass, Filch hung from a tree inside a net, nibbling on berries. Juices smeared and stuffed his cheeks. He waved casually.

“Great, now how do I get you down?”

Loose straw lay beneath him. If she jumped, she may reach him.

Psyche stepped for and a hear a brief creak. SNAP. The ground gave way. A trap. Psyche reached for her nonexistent daggers and skid down the pit wall. The hem of her coat stuck and tore on a bamboo pike before leaving her dangling, but unscathed. She slipped out and dropped to the floor.

Her heart raced and she pressed her back against the wall. The bungee pit had nearly skewered her alive. She patted for her pills and realized they were back at camp.

Filch whined above and dropped some of his berries.

Psyche sighed. “Great.”

She tried to climb but found no footings, sliding right back into the hole. Her shoulder blades bumped into a stake, and she retrieved her slit coat.

“Filch stay put. Civez will find us… eventually.”

She paced the bottom with barely any room to move. Whoever built it intended the trap as lethal. As she tested the spears, the bamboo bowed, planted firmly into the ground, and a cowbell rattled. A signal. Now someone would know the trap sprung. Psyche just hoped they were friendly.

Time passed with no end in sight. The midday sun blinded her eyes, kissing her skin. No doubt they were late for training. Ivi would murder them, but only if a trapper didn’t first.

Psyche kicked herself for not dressing for this. Now her stomach growled.

“Buddy, do you mind sharing? I wish I could understand you.”

Filch dropped another berry. They were black and oblong in shape and smelt like coffee, oddly enough. The texture squished firm in her hands. She sniffed one and took a bite before spitting it out. Bitter.

Filch squeaked with laughter. His squeaks reverberated in her head. She knew the noises. No, she UNDERSTOOD them.

“Better?” said Filch.

“Bleck. Yuck. What did you feed me?” Her eyes widened at the sudden realization. “Wait a moment, did you just speak?”

Filch nodded. “More hungry?” he squeaked.

The bean opened her eyes as she pieced his chirps together, yet his language limited him to only simple thoughts.

“Sorta. How can you speak?”

Filch turned his head back and forth. “Food?” He dropped another fermented black pulp. “Food? Filch eat breakfast. Filch’s good boy,” he said, dangling his fluffy tail.

Grass rustled, followed by footsteps ,and Filch’s ears rose like silver ice cream scoops. He squeezed, crawled out of his net, and shot up the rope.

“You could get out the whole time? Unbelievable!”

The trapper spoke in two voices, muttering and arguring with itself as she approached.

“Darla, may we keep this catch?” She asked cheerfully.

“Never, Gazi,” Darla hissed. “Stay in the bush. Safe in the bush.”

The creature trotted on all fours. She was a changeling, leopard, with majestic spots. Her clothes hung in demented tears with a spear riding her hunchback and a bandolier of tin canisters scraped the clay from her chest.

“Seems I made quite the catch,” she hissed. “You alright?”

Psyche fumed, pulling the coat tighter around her, hiding her panties. “I’m fine!” She shouted, stamping her foot.

“That so? Perhaps you don’t need our assistance then?”

“No, help me out please.”

The lady smiled; her teeth shone bone white. “This is good news. Right away, momma.”

She tossed off her hood and she squinted. Her left eye glowed in a foggy cloud like cataracts, bleeding hazy wisps of vapor. Stitchwork seams crowned her forehead with a pink bow clipping her ear. Her lips moved, but no words came.

“Lost?” she said in a cheery voice.

Psyche nodded. “It’s been a morning. Friend or foe?”

“That depends. Do the voices tell you to free the giant squids?”

Psyche took a step back. “No…? Do yours?”

The leopard snorted with laughter. “Of course. Name’s Gazi.”

The name set Psyche on edge. It danced on the tip of her tongue, but she couldn’t recall where she’d learned it. Was she another threat like Chance?

Psyche rattled the first false identity that came to mind. “Name’s Ivi,” she lied.

The Leopard’s eyes widened and she whimpered in pain.

“You okay?” called Psyche

“It knows our secret,” Gazi hissed to herself.

“Not yet,” she begged.

“We kill the changelings,” Gazi hissed at her shadow. “Bring many perfumes for Rippers.”

Gazi beat her head into the ground, scrambling her brain. “This is my body,” the polite Gazi said firmly. “You listen to me Darla. We help her.”

“You alright?” Psyche called, growing more concerned. “I really need out of here.”

Gazi laid on her stomach, stretching her arms out and pulled. Her muscles throbbed and with all her might Psyche collapsed out of the pit. Filch scurried and toppled, his head beside her.

“You’re lucky you’re cute,” she muttered to him.

Psyche smelt more “berries” and krocuta musk, looming off the trapper. It seemed not only had she lost her mind, but her hygiene.

Psyche crawled away the pit, paying close attention to not flash her undergarments. She swore next she’d get dressed before walking the shrink. He could starve or pee on the rug for all she cared.

Filch minced on another berry and offered it to Gazi. “Friend?”

Psyche batted it away.

Gazi’s good eye twitched as Psyche rose and dusted herself off.

Gazi wiped her brow. Up close, Psyche caught more scars tracing the leopard’s forehead. A lobotomy perhaps?

Gazi lowered her voice talking wildly and senile, “Say, if I didn’t have half a mind, I think you look familiar. I’m catching runaways. You didn’t see the Belladonna skirt by here, did you?” Polite Gazi admonished herself, “Please. Don’t ask that.”

“Quiet Gazi, Darla’s working.”

“Who’s Darla?” asked Psyche.

“Quiet Gazi,” she hissed as Darla to herself.

“Me?” Gazi piped softly. “You’re the one speaking.”

Psyche tucked her coat tighter, growing more uncomfortable. “Right… I’m gonna leave now.”

Gazi grabbed her arm. “Watch your step.”

Psyche leapt back from the pit and circled it.

“These your traps?” Psyche asked.

“Yes, tis mine. Laid them come sunrise to catch Tigrocs or whatever wild animals. Never thought I’d catch a shrink.”

“Those berries weren’t poisonous, were they?”

Gazi raised an eyebrow. “Berries? You mean the civet cherries.”

“So they are dung?” Psyche roared.

“What? You didn’t eat one, did you?”

Psyche remained silent.

“Did you?”

“Well…”

Gazi licked her paw and swapped voices, back to her sensitive than senile personality. “Everyone knows not to eat civet ‘cherries’ uncooked, changeling. Here in the myst, food contains raw magic. Sure, they make excellent coffee, as poly-tongue juice. But they’re volatile. You’ll grow a third arm or worse.”

Psyche crossed her arms, turning to Filch as he guiltily shriveled. That explained why only she understood Filch. Who knew how long it would last?

Psyche wished she could bury her head in the sand, embarrassed. “Much obliged.”

Gazi nodded and returned to her natural voice. “Should you need any help, anything at all, you can find me past the northern watering hole. I work the ferries with my husband. He’s a dreamboat,”

Psyche repeated her instructions to herself. She knew where to avoid now. “Pardon my prodding, but why do you seek the Belladonna?”

Gazi winced. Her limbs trembled. “What did you say?

Psyche grew tired of this. “You said you were looking for the Belladonna? Why?”

Gazi bent over and lurched as if Psyche punched her gut.

“Gazi?”

“Stay away,” she hissed. “We are not safe.”

Psyche nodded.

Filch hissed. “Danger.”

“Rippers seek her not us. If we catch her, my host goes free. Do you understand?”

Psyche swallowed. She had to get away.

Darla relinquished Gazi’s spirit and the leopard burst into tears. “Go. I’m not safe.”

Psyche wanted to leave with every bone in her body, but her feet remained glued to the clay.

“Are you okay?”

“I said go!” she shouted. “Leave before the voices find you.”

Psyche sprinted blindly through the elephant grass, unable to break the strange woman from her mind until several yards. Filch leapt and played around her legs.

“Chase. I love chase,” he cried.

Filch whimpered, and his tail tucked as she lifted him up. “Mommy still mad?”

“Sorta.”

Filch licked her face, and Psyche cringed. “First thing back to the guild, we’re brushing our teeth. Let’s scrape up Civez and get going.” Psyche shuddered. “Before squid-lady comes back.”

Unnerved, Psyche felt an itchy sensation crawling her like spiders between her wings.

The elephant grass rustled and as Psyche returned to the clearing, she found Civez crawling on his hands and knees out the den. He choked and gagged, coughing up jade vile mixed with blood.

“Civez, are you alright?”

He groaned waving her to look away before he vomited again.

“What happened?”

Civez shook, almost too feeble to stand. He wiped the slime from his mouth. His nostrils flushed raw from stomach acid. “The bond.”

Psyche reached to rub his back before pulling it away. “Did I do this?”

Civez swallowed and fought down another mouthful. His skin grew pale as he wrestled with his upset stomach. “Not in- — not in -den. “

Psyche understood what he meant. “Don’t hold it in.”

“Oh, thank heavens.”

He collapsed and let out his demons festering inside him.

“We need to see Ivi,” said Psyche.

Civez’s eyes watered and huffed out of breath. “No.”

“You’re getting worse. You need someone with connections.”

“She’ll give me a stitcher.”

“Which you need,” she said. “Look, at least it’s a doctor.”

Civez’s cheeks flushed green “You can’t make me go back.”

Psyche squatted to his level. “Hey, we’re team now. Remember what you told me?”

Civez wiped his jowls. “We can’t trust her.”

“You can’t, but my mother’s your only hope to leave this guild. Show her some respect… even if she’s a bit gruff.”

Civez smiled. Psyche helped him to his feet.

“We’ll fix you,” she said. “That’s a promise.”

He shook his head. “I’m dying.”

Psyche slapped him.

“Ow.”

“No, you’re not. Man up. With that attitude you will.”

Civez rubbed his cheek and slapped her back. Psyche held her face and Filch growled.

“Now we’re even,” he said.

Psyche fought the urge to slap him again. A few seconds later, green force struck Civez in the jaw. The bond pulsed and he shared her pain. The curse shared her feelings and leeched Psyche’s pain rippling on to him.

Psyche crossed her arms and held up her nose in indignation. “Hmph. Still think you don’t need momma’s help?”

Civez growled, then his gullet echoed him in garbled fashion. He burped and covered his lips too late before spewing again.

When he finished, Psyche held out a hankie. He reached and she cupped her other hand over his.

“Tell me you’ll ask Ivi for help.” She blinked her long lashes. “For me.”

Civez exhaled. “Fine.”

Psyche smiled, letting him keep the hankie. She got dressed and packed while he freshened up.

“This is only morning sickness just so you know. All cursed krocuta get this,” he called.

Meanwhile Civez stared emptily at the mass he created. It bubbled thick, soupy, and the stench prickled the back of his throat. He would die. Maybe two weeks. Maybe tomorrow, but he couldn’t live like this.

Psyche returned brushing her hair, finding him gazing into the abyss. She elbowed him playfully. “Ready to go, big guy?”

She followed his eyes. “I’m sorry I kissed you know.”

He avoided eye contact. “It’s not that. I don’t… blame you, but… what if I die?”

“Can’t we just bring you back like guild did me?” asked Psyche.

“I don’t think it works that way. I’m dispensable.”

Psyche scratched her head. “Aw, don’t say that. I’ll figure this out. Trust me.”

Civez exhaled, struggling to let it go.

“We have at least two weeks,” said Psyche. “We’ll just make you live your fullest. Let’s find you that girl. Where’s that smile?”

Civez breathed and started for the den. Psyche stepped in front of him. “Smile.”

Civez rolled his eyes and grit his teeth. He couldn’t help but laugh.

“There it is. What did you tell me? You’re not giving on…” Psyche gesture for him to finish her sentence.

“Okay, okay. Let’s go find Ivi.”

Psyche smiled. “Who knows? She may be your remedy. I’m sure she’ll be happy to see us.”

***

Ivy was not pleased.

“You’re late.”

Psyche followed the anxious elf on the rooftop. “Come on, momma. How many times do we have to apologize?”

“Can it, both of you.” She scolded Civez, “Why didn’t you bring her earlier like I told you?”

“I overslept, I’m sorry.”

“Sorry? Sorry, doesn’t keep the Rippers off our throats, now does it? Do you realize the deals I cut for them to back off?”

“Give him a break,” said Psyche. “It’s my fault.”

“Quiet you. Where did you go? Why was he up? What were you doing that he…” Ivi’s eyebrows raised. Her lips curled into a grin.

Civez turned red. “Now Ivi, it’s not what you think.”

“What did I warn you, Krocuta?”

Psyche stood in front of him. “It’s not his fault; it’s mine.”

A chuckle caught in Ivi’s throat. “You punched your ticket, Krocuta. Take it like a man.”

Civez barked, “I swear nothing happened.”

“Oh sure,” Ivi said rolling her eyes.

“Momma, I’m not like that. It was only a kiss. Can you fix him?”

Ivi studied his expression. She relented. “I know a place. I’ll pull some strings, but it may not be easy or healthy.”

“Anything,” said Civez.

“I’ll try,” said Ivi. “Until then, Emaye remains our only hope. Let me show you.”

They gathered around the abandoned rooftop in the open air. Ivi squatted on her knees and uncurled a map.

“All right, listen up. The sooner we find the phoenix, the sooner we escape. Got that?”

The two turned to each other in agreement.

“Here’s how this works. Six main gangs roam each district of the city. One has our bird. I’ve enlisted a series of jobs to train and grow your wit, strength, and charm.”

“Who’s the guys?” asked Psyche.

“First there’s the 38’s,”

“Machina wielders,” whispered Civez.

“The gang disassembles Sprites for weaponry. The religious sector worships them like gods. Those who grind their gears face the wrath of a cog wedged in their skin.”

“How do we know it’s them?” piped Psyche.

“We don’t,” said Ivi. “Anyone could be the bird-nappers and that’s the problem. Each has perfect motivation, and that’s what worries me.”

“Who else?” asked Civez.

“Then there’s the Pride: Succubus, Changelings and Krocuta castaways. They own and operate the warf under more aliases than fur on their backs, and those who don’t join, pay steep protection money. Pleasure, ecstasy and oddity lie in their bed and Pride members know how to satisfy.”

Civez tugged his collar at her sentiments.

“The Pride could easily seek the phoenix as an eccentric attraction. If not, the black-market sales on something like her could fetch a fortune.”

“You really think they would sell Emaye?” asked Psyche.

“Of course. The Blackbirds may hold a grudge, but they’re not stupid. They themselves would even try to steal it back. “

“Who else?”

“The Mirages, an all-succubae circle bent on power. They can shapeshift into nearly anyone.”

Psyche passed a glance at Civez. “Like him?”

“This is different. Only a few krocuta tribes can transform part of the time. Succubus change on a whim. Even fewer with voice included, obtaining power from what we know as ‘rakehells.’ Vox is half-rakehell. While your partner, incubus.

Civez took a step back. “M-me? No.”

Ivi smirked. “Don’t play coy. I knew why I chose you, and the risks it meant for her. Remember your blood test two months ago?”

“You said it was for mumps.”

“Nope. I have a file in my office if you ever need a looksie. You’re a walking test tube.”

Civez turned over his palms as if having an existential crisis. “Why don’t I know this?”

Ivi smiled. “Wouldn’t you like to know?”

Psyche and Civez shared looks of dread.

Ivi continued. “Anyway, there’s not a police district free of Mirages’ influence. Even the senate’s Spear is bound to entertain its share. Emaye’s just another stake for cut purses and identity theft to them. We can’t let that happen. It’ll topple Narcopolis’s entire political structure. Them—I fear the most.”

Civez interrupted. “Why don’t I know things like this? What did the guild do to me? What did you do to her?”

“I did nothing to her.” She pointed at Psyche. “Don’t you dare accuse me of such a thing.” Ivi stood up in his face. “Even if I explained you wouldn’t get it. So what’s the point?”

“Try us,” chimed Psyche.

Ultimately, Ivi remained silent. She bit her tongue and took a deep breath. “We’re getting sidetracked.”

“How much longer?” barked Civez.

“Only two more. Psyche, you already know the Blood Weevils.”

Psyche rubbed her head, taking another pill. “The name sounds familiar.”

“We burned down a crucial smuggling operation there together. They rival the Blackbirds in illicit and macabre goods, priding themselves in the forbidden meat market.”

Civez cringed. Psyche blinked, visibly clueless.

“They eat changelings, love.”

Psyche’s stomach churned.

Ivi nodded. “They only hold a foot in Narcopolis’s door, and since the two of us drove them out,” she said. “No doubt they have every desire for revenge. Maybe even try to eat Emaye if they’re that dimwitted.”

Psyche sat, trying to process all the gangs, and scrutinized the colorized map. Each section crossed like cogs in a wheel stacked on top of each other and a pointy spiked tower, the Spear in the center.

“And the last one?” asked Psyche.

Ivi pointed at the spear. “The Seraphs, our guild’s biggest rivals. The seraphs rule several seats of influence in the senate and two of the six districts as representatives. They are the most respected and powerful crime family.”

Civez stole a glance at Ivi and she rubbed the points in her ears.

“They hold the most reason to dick us over.”

Psyche adjusted her skirt over her knees. “Why?”

Ivi chose her words carefully. “Many reasons. Emaye gives them scrying without limits. Meaning more jobs rivaling the Mirages. Your biggest rival, Fia Wang Li, disappeared at your death, giving them revenge akin to the Blood Weevils, and Emaye bears forbidden lore and magics, much like the 38’s.”

“There’s more,” Civez stepped closer.

Ivi pulled a switchblade. “Bite. Your. Tongue.”

“If you don’t tell her, I will,” snipped Civez.

Ivi stabbed the map and stood up again. “Fine, jeopardize the mission. See if I care.”

The two turned their backs to each other leaving Psyche clueless in the center before reaching to tap Ivi’s shoulder.

“Momma?”

Ivi winced, turning around. “Yes, dear.”

“What’s he talking about?”

Ivi closed the blade, stuffing it away and rested a hand on her shoulder. “Sweetheart, people change. We grow up and learn to make the most from accidents and mistakes.”

“You’re saying you were born a seraph?”

Ivi curled her hair and for the first time the elf’s mask fell. “That was a long time ago. Many people will hurt you to get to me. That’s why we must be ready. We must train. Try the others first, and when we’re ready, we strike the Spear.”

Civez crossed his arms. Why the spear? Why hide something so valuable in plain sight? They would never hide it there, he thought.

Ivi continued, “We hit them where it hurts. They wouldn’t conceal it there. I know my family. Honestly, I hardly believe it’s them.” She turned to face Civez. “And if someone hadn’t seen that tattoo, maybe we could avoid tossing this to the Seers.”

Civez and Ivi argued over the lack of privacy the guild caused and who’s fault it was that they were in this job as Psyche sat on the sidelines as a third wheel. She had about enough of playing chaperone. She stepped between them again.

“So how do we train?” she asked.

Civez’s fur raised. He stood ready to trade blows.

Ivi’s glower dared him to try. “You relearn the tenants: talent, speed, cunning, charm, and aggression. The Belladonna embodies all elements. Master all five, and you’ll be ready in a month.”

“We don’t have a month,” Civez shot.

“Not my problem, loose-lips.”

Civez pushed Psyche aside. “You wanna go, lady?”

Ivi smirked, entertaining the idea. “Hmm, Tempting, but afraid I may pass. Doesn’t seem fair.”

“I assure you it isn’t,” he growled grinding his teeth.

Ivi raised an eyebrow. “Care for a demonstration, Psyche?”

“Um, no.”

Ivi clasped her hands behind her back. “It’ll only take a second.”

Without warning Civez swung first and sent Ivi reeling.

“Hey!” Psyche called out.

Civez dropped to grapple and Ivi called taking hit. “Aggression never quits even when it hurts.”

Civez headbutted her, and Ivi lay stunned. He drew his claws, and Psyche grabbed his arm.

Ivi shook herself and rolled to safety. “Speed keeps you alive.”

Civez pushed Psyche and stood. Ivi roundhoused Civez in the jaw. “Cunning plans your foe’s downfall,” she said.

Civez took the blow undeterred as Psyche begged them to stop.

Crushed two walnuts in her fists, Ivi sprouted two tendril vine whips. Her stems cracked Civez to spring backwards. She struck him behind the kneecaps and thrust him to the floor.

Her overgrowth enveloped him and tightened his sinewy muscles. She sat on his chest drumming her nails on her cheek.

“Get off me. Mmmhmm,” he cried before the tendrils wrapped his snout.

The belladonna drew a knife. “Don’t hurt him,” begged Psyche.

Ivi gave her a smile and unfanned her switchblade. “Relax. Just a demonstration. As you can see,” Ivi spread her arms wide. “Talents set you above the rest.”

She combed Civez’s ears back. Her fingers glowed bone white. He whimpered before she shushed him, planting a wet one between his eyes. Civez blinked, and Ivi gave a grin.

“Charm mends all wrongs right,” she cooed.

She sliced his gag as Civez ground his teeth. “Rematch. No magic,” he snarled.

“No can do. Rippers and thugs fight dirty. So neither will I do you that disservice. You’ve got the aggression though. Ancestors knows you never knew when to quit barking up my tree.”

Civez yanked his binds cracking the cords as fast as they could grow. “Untie me right now!”

“Calm down and I will.”

“Psyche cut me loose.”

Psyche stared at them in disbelief.

Ivi rolled her eyes and waved her off. “I got him. Hold still hyena or I’ll slice something on purpose.”

Civez sucked in his gut and Ivi shriveled her vines drying them tighter into his fur, and in one foul swipe, she cut him loose, holding her arm to help him up.

Civez pushed her aside, and Ivi raised an eyebrow.

“Rematch,” he growled.

Ivi chuckled. “Not now I have a headache. It’s only polite to give a girl a moment to recover… especially after bashing your face in,” she said with a snicker.

Psyche shook her head. “That wasn’t right.”

“Oh, lighten up love. It’s all in good fun. You used to do it too, remember?”

“No.”

“You will. Your first job’s tomorrow. Rest up, lovebirds. Read my book because tomorrow we hit the big time.”