Chapter 47: Chapter 47: Full House

Chapter 47: Full House

“And that’s the last one,” said Razia, pulling the final stitch tight. After the brawl, Quentin’s everything was battered and sore. Only the wound on his forehead needed attention. Razia, after some prodding and coaching, stitched him up. Now that she was done, her hands shook. She took a knife and cut the excess thread away. Then she grabbed her drink and took a nervous sip. “I don’t know how you just sat there and took it. Didn’t it hurt?”

They were in Quentin’s room, on his bed. Quentin sat there grimacing, neither moving nor making a sound as she worked. Now that the stitches were done, he let himself relax and his shoulders droop. “Yes, it hurt. A lot. But you were nervous enough without me wincing when you pushed the needle through too slowly.”

Razia winced. “You’re scary sometimes, you know that? Just sitting there like that, like it was nothing.”

Quentin shook his head, chuckling. “It’s not nothing. I’m just used to the pain. Do you have any idea how many times I’ve had to stitch myself up? Now that’s hard.”

She made a distressed sound. “Do you also lose teeth all the time?” She brought her fingers to her lips and shuddered. “If I lost a tooth, I’d be crying. For hours and hours.”

It wasn’t something he thought about, and now that Razia mentioned it, Quentin felt vaguely guilty about it. Like he did something wrong without knowing exactly what. “It’s happened. Brawls, accidents during training, a prisoner gets lucky. They’ve always grown back after a couple weeks.”

Razia stared at him. “Quentin? That’s not normal. Teeth don’t grow back. How do you not know this?”

He shrugged, looking away. “This is all I’ve ever known, yeah?”

“Have you ever had a wound that didn’t heal? How often do you get sick?”

“What’s with all the questions?” Quentin scoffed. “I’m covered in scars, so most of them don’t heal all the way. I guess I don’t really get sick often. Could we just…drop it?”

Razia sighed but nodded. “Okay. But only because tonight’s been rough. For some of us more than others. If you’re doing okay, I’m going to check on the girls, okay? I recommend you do the same in a while. They’re pretty shaken up about Lucy.” She grabbed the rag they’d used to clear away his blood and wiped around his stitches, then leaned forward and kissed his forehead above the wound.

Quentin watched her leave, not quite ready to get up himself. Razia couldn’t know how much her questions bugged him. He’d always been surprisingly healthy, given how much of his early life he spent indoors, or getting kicked around by the bigger kids. Illnesses seemed to roll off of him without touching him, and he healed quickly and cleanly. It wasn’t something he let himself think about often. Thinking about it made him question it, and he didn’t like the only answers that came to mind.

No matter what people said, there was no curse, no being touched by the gods, nothing like that. He was just an ordinary man with a strange condition. Nothing more, nothing less. Anything else was unacceptable. Quentin tongued the new space in his teeth thoughtfully. Two, maybe three weeks from now there would be another one there as if nothing happened. Unless it didn't happen this time. Maybe it wouldn’t.

Sighing, Quentin stood and stretched. Half a dozen places cracked and groaned. Fast healer or not, he still felt every cut and bruise. He twisted at the hip and enjoyed another few pops. Satisfied, he left the quiet of his room for the clamor of the rest of the house.

All of the girls were still there, including Lynne who sat with Samantha and Tricia. The three of them looked as thick as thieves and were talking together on the lounger. Isa and Jenna stood nearby with one of Quentin’s remaining bottles of wine. When Isa met his gaze she brought the bottle to her lips and took a long pull from it, nodding at him in a way that could’ve been friendly. If he squinted. She handed the bottle to Jenna.

Now that it was well into the night, his home was dimly lit by lamps and a ray of moonlight coming in from the skylight. Quentin couldn’t recall having this many people in his home at one time ever, let alone all beautiful women who more or less looked up to him. Seeing them just relaxing and enjoying themselves in his gloomy home was surreal. He walked up to Isa and Jenna. “You, uh, find everything okay?”

Jenna nodded, smiling uneasily at him. Watching him brutalize another man probably didn’t sit well with her. “Yeah, you’ve got a really nice…Well, everything,” she said, looking around. “I didn’t expect you to have such a nice home. It is yours, right?”

Quentin snorted. “You don’t have to worry about some rightful owners barging in on us. This has been my home for seven years now.”

“You’ve been holding out on us,” Isa said neutrally. “What else have you been keeping from us?”

“Well, I made my fortune by killing people who had a contract on their life,” said Quentin, throwing caution to the wind and hiding in plain sight. He took the bottle from Jenna and took a drink. “It paid really well, and here we are.”

“Here we are,” Isa echoed. She took the bottle back from him. “I knew that story about being a bodyguard was shit. You’re too vicious to be a bodyguard. Killer sounds way more likely.”

“Isa!” Jenna smacked her shoulder, side-eyeing Quentin. He could hardly blame her for it. “I’m sorry, she’s had a lot to drink and she’s…”

“She’s spot on.”

Isa smirked at Jenna, who did her best to ignore it. “What the hell are you doing with us, then?” Jenna asked. “I’m guessing killing people probably pays a lot better than being a pimp.”

Way, way more. Their best night out ended with him making about a quarter as much as he did for one night’s work in the Colosseum. “Razia,” he said, shrugging. “She got her talons into me and convinced me to go out with her one night. She’s persuasive.”

“You mean she annoyed you into doing what she wanted,” Isa corrected.

Quentin didn’t deny it. “I’d tell you to help yourself to whatever you want in the kitchen, but I think you already have.”

Jenna flashed a guilty smile. “In my defense, it was Samantha who started it.”

He shook his head smiling and left them behind. Next up he paid a visit to the three of them on the lounger. Tricia was the first to look up at his approach, her face unreadable. Quentin supposed he couldn’t really blame her for not knowing how to act around him. He’d offered her shelter, her mother died, and then he spent a week feeling sorry for himself while she was left to more or less fend for herself. He’d thoroughly failed her too.

“Hey. Everything good here? Everyone comfortable?”

“Mr. Q, I have a question for you!” said Samantha in a voice just a little too loud and enthusiastic. Whether it was not registering how bad things had been or just bouncing back quickly, Samantha seemed the only one more or less fine.

“What’s that?” he asked, giving a pleasant enough nod to Lynne. She looked down at his feet. If Lucy allowed her to stay, they’d need to do something to make her relax. Then again, Quentin was hardly the person to throw stones when it came to moping over guilt.

“Can I take Tricia home with me?”

Quentin blinked. “What?”

“Well, I’ve got tons of brothers and sisters, right?” Samantha started, hands wringing the edge of her dress. “Now that daddy’s not deep in debt, it wouldn’t be too hard to take care of one more kid. And she’d have people her own age to spend time with, and would get her out of your hair.”

“She’s not in my hair much,” said Quentin absentmindedly. Tricia had her eyes on him but was silent. “Is that what you want, Tricia?”

Tricia nodded. “Yeah. Your house is nice and all, but the kids in the courtyard are assholes. I like Samantha, and…” she trailed off.

And it would be nice to live somewhere without the man who promised and failed to save her mother’s life. “Yes, of course,” said Quentin. “Tomorrow if you want, we’ll take your things over there. It’s probably a much better place for a young woman like you anyway. But I promise I’ll always be here if you need me. I mean it.”

Tricia smiled at him, but it was tinged with sadness. He’d be surprised if she ever took him up on it. If nothing else Quentin would make sure to pay Samantha for anything Tricia needed. It was the least he could do to honor Maria.

Samantha let out a squeal and pulled Tricia into a big hug. “It’s going to be great! You’re gonna love my brothers and sisters. They’re all good kids and they’ll make you feel perfectly at home and welcome. Or else!” She let out a big laugh.

“I’m going to check on Lucy,” said Quentin. Lynne perked up at that, finally looking him in the eye. “I might not talk to her about anything serious yet, but you’re welcome here for tonight at least.”

Lynne shrunk in on herself. “Isa doesn’t think so. Samantha’s been great and all,” Samantha beamed at that, “but I don’t know if me staying is a good idea.”

Quentin didn’t really have the energy to comfort her much. Between the fight and a week long bender, he was a mess and was looking forward to sleeping for a full day or so. So all he did was shrug and say, “Do you want to be part of the group?”

She blinked. “Yes. I think so. You seem like good people, and you’re clearly tougher than Darriq. And less of a bastard.”

“Only until you get to know me.”

She paused, laughing only when he let himself smile to show her it was a joke. “You really don’t hate me for being responsible for all this?”

“Of course he doesn’t,” Samantha said, looking up to make sure she was right.

Did you know this story is from Royal Road? Read the official version for free and support the author.

Quentin shook his head. “Darriq showed he was willing to do horrible things tonight. Just don’t let it happen again. It still depends on Lucy.” He looked over his shoulder towards Razia’s room. He gave them one last nod and went that way.

This was the part he was least looking forward to. Lynne may have gathered them all there for Darriq and his men, but it was Quentin’s absence that allowed it to happen. Lucy had every reason to hate him for not being there. No amount of beating the crap out of bad men would undo the pain she went through. Quentin thought about knocking, but on the chance Lucy was asleep he just slipped inside.

Razia sat on the side of the bed, holding Lucy’s hand. Lucy was laying down, propped up by pillows into a comfortable position half sitting, half laying down. Even after being cleaned up she looked like absolute hell. Quentin could only remember getting beaten that savagely once or twice. Even when the wounds healed, the experience changed you.

“Hey,” Razia said. “She’s been asking for you.” She let go of Lucy’s hand and stood up. With a lingering look that seemed to say ‘be careful’ she left the two of them alone.

After a moment’s hesitation, Quentin took Razia’s place on the bed. The dim room made her face look worse than it might have. Lucy’s face was puffed up, with one eye swollen shut and cuts all over her lips where angry fists split them open against her teeth. She was wrapped up in a blanket for some semblance of modesty. Slowly, he gathered up the nerve to take her hand and give a squeeze. After a second, Lucy squeezed back.

“So, uh. Are the painkillers working? I have the good stuff.” Quentin bit back a wince. He had no idea what he was doing. She was going to see through him and hate him any second.

Lucy nodded. When she spoke, she spoke slowly and with bit of a slur but it was still understandable. “Yess. Still hurtss, but it feels far away. Mostly I’m tired. Did you…?” Lucy made a fist and smacked it into her other palm. She let both hands flop into her lap.

Quentin nodded. He pointed to the stitches on his head with a crooked smile. “Yes. None of them are going to be happy for a while. The bastard who had this done to you? I broke his other arm. He won’t be able to wipe his own ass for a couple months.”

She laughed then, sudden and hard until it stopped with a painful wince. Quentin grimaced and was about to apologize when she held a finger up. “Good,” she got out, still smiling out of one side of her mouth. “What about me? Did you mean it when you said…about the flesh sculptorss?”

This was the part all of them seemed surprised at. Everyone seemed to take the savage beating as an unfortunate and preventable part of the job, but no one seemed willing to believe Quentin would go the extra mile. “This is my fault,” he said. “This shouldn’t have happened to you. I don’t care what it costs, we’ll make sure you heal. And in the meantime, you can stay here and rest. I’ll make sure you have whatever you need. You have my word.”

And why not? All of them were in his house anyway. There was no more separation of his night life and his personal life. Hell, his biggest secret was all but ripped away from him and after a week spent as a mopey fool it took the youngest of the group getting hurt to remind him he still had this. He owed all of them an apology, and the only thing better than an apology was putting in the work.

“There’s just one more thing,” he said. “Take your time if you need to, no one will blame you. Lynne is here with us tonight. She’s sorry about her role in it. If you want her gone, she’ll be gone, no questions asked. If you’re willing to give her another chance…”

Lucy’s breathing quickened. She shifted in her bed, trying to sit up straighter and wincing for her effort. Quentin reached out and gently put his hand on her shoulder and pushed her back down into the pillows. Out of her good eye, there was anger and distress in equal measures there. He grabbed a nearby cup of water and held it up to her lips.

Slowly, Lucy sipped from it, closing her eyes and focusing on the water. Several long, slow seconds of continuous drinking and she pulled away. “Do you think I should?” she asked, sounding more tired than ever.

“Honestly?” Quentin made a face. “I think there’s no should or shouldn’t. Only what you prefer. She’s responsible for this almost as much as I am. I deserve your forgiveness even less than she does, but like me she’s willing to try and make things better. It’s up to you, and I won’t judge you either way.”

Lucy took her time in answering. Slumping against the pillows, her breathing grew more even until Quentin thought her asleep. He nearly jumped when she finally said, “Okay.”

“Okay?” Quentin smiled. “How about this? She’ll wait on you hand and foot while you’re recovering. Be your personal nurse.”

“Ooh,” said Lucy, smiling from the corner of her mouth. “I think I like that.” And then she really did fall asleep. Quentin waited a couple of minutes until she started snoring before getting up. He thought about touching her hand again, or even kissing her forehead the way Razia liked to do when reassuring him. He thought better of it and went back into the main room.

Most of the girls were nowhere to be seen. There on the lounger was Isa, now sharing her bottle of wine with Tricia. Quentin looked around for them. Isa called out, “they’re in the bathroom. Razia told them about your bath and they had to see it for themselves. Razia said to not expect them for at least half an hour, and to come by if you want.”

“Why aren’t you with them?” Quentin asked.

Isa made a disgusted face. “I’m not in the habit of shared public nudity,” she said. “And someone had to watch over the brat.”

“Hey!” Tricia protested, swiping the bottle and taking a drink. “I’m not a brat. And I don’t need watching.”

“Sure,” Isa sniffed, hiding a smile.

Quentin was honestly surprised to hear about Isa’s reluctance to be nude around others, given her line of work. But he more than understood, given his own issues. Coming by the bath sounded like a potential trap. Razia was probably just going to try to make him blush or be uncomfortable for a laugh. Well, he wasn’t going to back down. But first…

“Actually, I had a few questions for you, Isa. About the flesh sculptors down at the temple.”

Isa tilted her head to the side, and motioned with her hand for him to speak.

He chose his words carefully. “I’ve heard you say you’ve had work done there. I fully mean to get Lucy whatever help we can from them. If you don’t mind talking about it, what have you had done and what did it cost?”

She pursed her lips thoughtfully. For a moment, Quentin honestly expected her to change her mind and tell him to go fuck himself. She didn’t. Isa took a deep breath and answered, “I’ve had a decent amount of work done. My breasts cost thirty aquilos. My face was another ten, to help soften it and make my voice higher. Another ten for my hips and ass. When I have my cock removed, it’ll take a full fifty.

“I’m saving that for last. Half the reason people pay me is to be fucked by a woman.” There was no mistaking the contempt in her voice. Quentin felt a renewed kinship with the dusk-girl. He knew all too well what it was like to make money off of the part of himself he hated. “It’s worth noting that dusk-girls and dawn-boys get a discount on their services. It’s seen as honoring the god/ess of in between.”

Quentin’s eyes widened as he considered the prices. One hundred aquilos for Isa to fully transition. And that was at a discount. If it took her ten for her face, reconstructive work and regrowing teeth would probably cost more. He could guess ten to twenty for Lucy, maybe. “Thank you,” he said. “Taking care of Lucy will be no problem, then.”

Isa looked surprised. “You really have no issue paying that much for her?”

“Really,” said Quentin. “Hell, if you wanted, I’d cover what you needed. Or at least lend you the money.”

That was the wrong thing to say. Isa’s face warped into a scowl. “I don’t need your charity or your help. If I do this, I’m going to do it on my own. I won’t have you or anyone else holding that over my head.”

Quentin held his hands up. “Okay. I respect that.” That seemed to do the trick, and Isa relaxed. Maybe it was in his imagination, but dealing with her was getting easier and easier. She was hotheaded, prideful, and acidic. So were half the gladiators he used to spend his time near. He turned to Tricia. “How are you doing, Trish? Can I get you anything?”

“Sure,” she said, a bit of a slur in her voice. “I’ll take fifty aquilos if you’re offering.” She grinned at him. It was good to see after a week of mourning.

He didn’t respond save for a smile. Taking a deep breath he headed for the bathroom. In the ten minutes or so he’d spent with Lucy, they’d filled it, heated it, and all gotten in it. He had to step over several dresses and kick some sandals to the side to clear a path to the bath. The girls let out a cheer as he got close, stopping just shy of the lip of the tub.

It was sunken into the ground, and all of the girls were under the water. That didn’t stop Quentin from getting an eyeful, but none of them seemed to care. “Mr. Q!” Samantha called out. “Come in here with us! We’ll make room.”

Samantha pulled Lynne into her lap, making the blonde woman laugh and exposing more of her above the water. Razia smirked at him and patted the surface of the water next to her. She was daring him to refuse, pushing on his insecurity there. He wasn’t sure if it was her usual teasing, or if it was something of a punishment for the evening. One last reminder he messed up.

Well, the joke was on her. He kicked his sandals off and a chorus of cheers erupted. Samantha’s eyes widened and she looked eager, while Jenna and Lynne mostly looked curious. Quentin locked eyes with Razia as he entered the hot bath, fully clothed. He sank down into the seat built in and spread his arms along the lip, smiling smugly at Razia. She inclined her head in acknowledgement.

“I’m officially jealous,” Jenna said, dunking her head under and slicking her long brown hair back. “I’d kill for my own private bath.” If any of them thought it odd that he was still clothed, no one said anything.

“That’s what I said,” Razia exclaimed. “Since moving in I use it at least every other day. Poor Quentin’s gonna run out of ember chips because of me.” She put her hand on his arm and left it there, smiling. Quentin fought to keep his eyes level with hers.

Nobody said anything for a second, and Quentin realized they were all watching and waiting on him. He wasn’t just dumb muscle. He was nominally in charge. If he continued to say nothing, maybe they’d ignore him and let him just sit nearby, but he realized he couldn’t do that anymore. “The way I see it, there’s plenty of floor space and three surfaces to sleep on. Anyone who wishes to stay the night is welcome. I think we could all use a quiet rest after today.”

“Absolutely,” said Razia, backing him up. “If nothing else, it will help having people check in on Lucy.”

“That reminds me,” said Quentin, turning to Lynne. “Lucy says you get a second chance, but you’re going to be in charge of taking care of her while she recovers.”

Lynne made a surprised sound. Her cheeks turned pink. “So she can guilt me over it the whole time?”

Razia shook her head. “Lucy isn’t like that.”

“Well, okay then,” said Lynne, looking away. “But what am I going to do at night when I’m working?”

Quentin was surprised to find he had an easy answer waiting. He hadn’t planned the idea, or even thought of it. It popped into his head and immediately felt like the logical solution. “You’re not going to be working for a few days. None of you are.”

“Look, I would love to take a few days off and relax,” Jenna said, laughing nervously. “But food and shelter aren’t free. Not all of us live in huge houses with full pantries.”

Razia understood what he meant at once. She spoke up for him and he was equal parts amused and disturbed at her willingness to freely spend his shards. “You’ll be paid to not work during that time. We could all use a break while we think ahead to our next move.”

Samantha brightened up at once. “That’s a fantastic idea! Gods know I could use the time to bring Tricia home and make sure she’s doing okay. I haven’t been spending enough time with my siblings anyway,” she said fondly. “Thanks Mr. Q!”

Quentin shrugged off the compliment. He wasn’t about to tell him that he could probably fund all of them off his Blooming winnings for months. They needed time to breathe, and he needed time to go out and search for a solution to their safety problem. He could be there every night from now on, but if his opponents had muscle and outnumbered him, they were in for trouble. The only reason he won the fight against Darriq’s hired thugs was a deliberate decision to strike first and fight dirty.

“I’ll have some more beds and furniture brought in. I’ll send some of you out for groceries tomorrow, if you care to stay. My only rule is you don’t go in either of my two rooms. Do that and you’re gone.” His storage room had enough weapons, armor, and tattered wall coverings from the Colosseum that it wouldn’t be hard to put two and two together about who he was.

That left one more thing to talk about before he could let himself relax. “Today showed that keeping you all safe and the bastards out there contained isn’t easy, and we could wind up with enemies. So far we’ve been going to different places, but that’s not sustainable. But we don’t want to stick to just one tavern either, right?”

Around the bath, the girls responded with nods or shrugs. Razia nodded slowly. She looked curious now, suspicious even. Quentin fought back the smile that threatened to take over his whole face. This was the one idea he’d taken time on. It was the only logical conclusion to their problem. They needed stability and control. They needed safety. They needed a chance to let the girls thrive..

“I think it’s time for us to get a place of our own.”