Chapter 2: Cards and Cigarettes

It turned into a long day at the morgue. A tram crashed into a large, motorized carrier truck and the coroner got chained to the morgue for hours. Edwina pinched her cheeks to create the essence of rouge, freshening up on the way since she hadn’t gone home to do so before her walk to the card club began. The rain drizzled black water down the sides of the red brick, marking every building with a dull gray tone. It was the constant daily battle of the town washers to keep the building from turning completely black as the ink rained down from indigo clouds.

Her heels clopped against the street bricks as she crossed towards the adjacent pausing for a moment in the street to wait for a motorcar to travel past. She looked through the dim windows of the car and noticed a man on the sidewalk, tall and stiff. Her heart clenched as the car went by and the man stepped into the street. As the man bounded towards her, she startled as she saw Benton in the man’s face. She stepped back and a loud honk sounded in her ear as she nearly bounced off a car behind her. The man quickly reached out and grabbed her arm protectively pulling her away from the car.

“You alright miss?” He asked, his face concerned. He looked nothing like Benton.

“Yes, yes I’m fine, should probably watch where I’m going.” She painted on a fake smile and reassured the stranger before picking up her pace towards the Marrin Delight Card Club.

The familiar scent of the card club washed over her as Edwina passed through the heavy mahogany doors. The doors closed safely, separating her from the tensions that were following her from beyond them. Chamberlin met her in foyer, he was a burly man with a deep red beard, which he kept cropped and neatly groomed, and matching long locks of wavy hair pulled back into a tight braid and wound into a bun. Edwina once asked him why he never let his hair hang freely, and he had said, “Can’t have someone be able to pull your hair while you’re throwing them out.”

“Miss Edwina, it is a blessing to see you, straight from work I see,” Chamberlin noted as he slid her raincoat from her shoulders.

“You as well, Chamberlin. I had a rather stressful day.” She said, waving her hand in passive dismissal. Chamberlin gripped her arm in a kind, delicate touch, nestling her forearm in his large grasp. She silently cursed the obvious black sigils giving her away. “I almost got hit by a motorcar on the way here.”

Chamberlin hummed, the Fear sigil branched wildly over her other statuses, making it more than just a simple scare. Their expressions conveyed as much as any spoken conversation could have, her deep brown eyes flicking between his concerned gaze. He caressed the debuff that coiled beneath her skin with his thumb. His eyes narrowed with worry, but Edwina shook her head. She hoped it would go away soon.

He outfitted her with a sigil sleeve and let her into the main room of the card club to collect her chips from the cashier. She tugged the sleeve up to the hem of her cream-colored blouse and tucked it in. The opaque fabric fit like a second skin and made it such that no one could peek at the stirring inkwell, and it was tight enough that no one could hide cards.

The main room opened before her. The small card club had a total of five felt tables arranged in a circular pattern around the room. Dealers sat towards the center while the patrons lined the outer sides. Bright swooping chandeliers, lit up by the gas that flowed through the copper pipes. Each pipe fitting kept a small flame, dancing within an orb of colored glass that encased it. The room was warm and smelt of fresh lilacs arranged in vases sat on shelves that housed hefty leather-bound books. The proprietor of this establishment went to great lengths to avoid the dingy smoke-filled card rooms that bred an air of suspicion and unsavory patrons.

“Edwina!” A man burst out with a joyous shout. He was a plump sort, a face always red with delight and would keep a handkerchief handy to whip the sweat that gathered at his brow. Edwina returned the smile to the man, it was impossible not to. She’d first met Sam two years ago after he identified the body of his deceased wife. He had spiraled into a deep depression, and at times would come to the morgue, confused and distressed. Edwina did the only thing she knew how to do, and they played cards over one of her workstations. Sam was a wealthy man, and he eventually turned his energies towards something more constructive, so he invested in the card house.

“Sam,” Edwina greeted him warmly with a polite kiss on the cheek. “Winning?”

“I won’t be now that you’re here.” He belly laughed at himself and the enjoyment prompted another smile from the coroner. She sat in the plush chair and sorted out her chips.

“Rough day?” The dealer, Finn, spread the cards over the table and swirled them around before pulling them all back together to shuffle. Finn was a tall man, even sitting down, his lengthy arms hardly had to stretch to reach all edges of the card table. He had tight mousy blond curls atop a fine face that offered a kind smile as he met Edwina’s gaze.

“I handled the tram crash today.” She felt terrible for her relief for having a different excuse for the somber mood that hung off her like cobwebs, other than what happened with Benton. She couldn’t help but think about how much the incident had rattled her.

“I heard it was a nasty sort, three dead. Drunk man in one of those new large carrier trucks. Shame in or little town.” A man at the far end of the table puffed a little orange cigarette.

“Layla—Layla my dear,” Sam called over one of the servers, her long black hair brushed to one side, fitting with her off the shoulder dress. “Can you get Edwina here one of your Voile cigarettes?”

“Voile cigarettes?” Edwina’s voice rose in surprise. “What do they do?”

“All sorts of things. She’s got all kinds of flavors that do different things from sharpen your mind, to calm your nerves.” Sam spoke animatedly as Layla came back with an ornate wooden box. It smelled of tobacco with hints of floral and citrus notes. Felt indents perfectly lined each cigarette, like miniature soldiers on parade. “The little orange ones taste like sherbet, they, erm, wake up all your senses.”

“Layla, do you know about someone who is selling something stronger than these? Shreds?” Edwina picked out a soft blue colored cigarette and placed it in her mouth. Layla responded by taping the end with a small metal stick wrapped in Voile and stamped with the sigil to ignite. Edwina coaxed the cigarette until she could draw in the taste of vanilla and blueberries. She felt a foggy haze come over her mind, stirring with her and pulling away her stresses.

“No, I—“ Layla stumbled in surprise at the odd question.

“No, no, no, not that I believe you would— I had a Shreds user in the morgue today. I’m not experienced in the matter, and I just wondered if you knew anything at all, or someone I could talk to. I—“ Edwina sighed and pinched the bridge of her nose, the Voile cigarette muddied her thoughts as it fought against her anxieties.

“The action’s on you.” Finn spoke up, signaling Edwina that it was her turn. She cupped her hands and tipped the corner of her cards to check, before throwing some chips into the center and calling.

“It’s alright, Edwina. No, my manufacturer does not deal in Shreds. These are all manufactured safely, in a reputable shop in Ebonport.” Layla’s beautiful voice was disarming, she spoke with singsong notes. “The blue ones are my favorite. That one’s on me.”

Edwina shook her head mid draw and slipped a few chips into Laylas cigarette box before the server could protest. The dealer shot another concerned as he had to remind Edwina again that the round came back to her. She thought for a moment, her hand went unimproved with the second card, and she didn’t have a very good hand to start with. She pinched the cards' edges, making them flip up and flutter down in a flourish as she folded them.

Each consecutive hand dealt to her became worse. She knew her current cards were bad before she even dared to peek. Her mood was bringing down the table. Sam laughed and told the same story twice, attempting to pull the attention away from the card-dead coroner. She mourned the thing that always brought her joy, she knew she was sucking the life out of the room.

Finn paused and looked at Edwina as he slowed his shuffling. She felt the expectation seep into her, it made her inkwell itch, the fear hadn’t left her. The coroner had reached her threshold for losing, she would either go to a different table or call it a night. She grabbed her chips and sorted them into her chip tray. Polite apologies as she left her friends to go cash out. Sam gave her knuckles a cheerful kiss, telling her she was an absolute delight. They both knew he was lying, but cheerful words may be believed if one repeats them enough.

The cashier exchanged the tray of coins for a much smaller stack of bills the coroner had come in with. Layla came up behind her and slipped two voile cigarettes into Edwina’s pocket.

“Don’t think I’d let you get away with that.” She smirked that disarming look of hers. Layla studied the coroner with a keen eye. Her smile softened and the music in her voice faded. “Edwina what’s wrong?”

“I just need to sleep this day off.” Edwina wouldn’t meet the woman’s eyes as she clicked her cash against the table and replaced it into her pocketbook. She shrugged and slipped her pocketbook under her arm.

“You never sleep.” Layla’s voice clipped in a soft but serious tone. She stood taller than the coroner, had an elegance to her as she walked with lithe grace. Edwina had met her years ago, during a criminal investigation. Layla had been in the room when a man was stabbed to death. She had been his companion for the night, and Edwina was the one who processed her for the investigation. At the time she’d told the prostitute, that after the investigation was over, she could remove the sigil brand that declared her property. The scar lay over the woman’s left breast, just above the hem of her off-the-shoulder dress. They never talked about Layla’s previous employment again.

“I know, but perhaps I should this time.” Edwina gave Layla a look of appreciation as she left the card club.

Edwina entered the empty flat, shaking herself off from the rain and shuttering from the cold. She kicked her shoes off and placed the food on the counter. She always appreciated the diner on the corner being open all night. Plates, silverware, and cups lay in order on the table. A moment passed as the dinner for two taunted her. The image of a relationship, two people sitting at a table, was this strange phantom dream that seemed to always lay just outside her reach. She resigned herself and put the dishes away, opting to just eat straight from the carton, a bite into the meal she thought maybe she would wait. It wouldn’t be long before he came home.

She got up and cleaned, as it was an easy repetitive task that helped her think. Her flat often mirrored her office. Clean, sterile, and with everything in its place. This flat looked and felt lived in. Dust lined the shelves, clothes sat haphazardly in the laundry bin, papers and mail strewn about the side table. A comfortable feeling of home. A home that was not hers. She cleared the table, finding a stack of envelopes marked harshly with red ink. She squinted her eyes to look closer but the door opened with the jingle of metal keys, and Finn greeted Edwina with a smile. She shoved the overdue bill notices away and returned the smile.

“I had a hunch I would see you tonight.” He made no time to drop his things to cross the room tilting Edwina’s chin with his pointer finger and gave her a kiss.

“I had a bad day.” She replied, her eyes closed as she let his kiss melt over her lips.

“Why is it I never get to see you on a good day?” He asked, his voice turning down as it wove with disappointment.

“Because if I was having a good day, I would still be at the card club.” She chuckled a smile. A smile that he returned with a despondent thinning of his lips. “Finn—“ The words died on her tongue.

“What did you bring to eat?” He changed the subject and turned away from Edwina grabbing one of the cartons of food, picking through the meal with a fork.

“Finn, I don’t want to do this tonight.”

“You don’t want to do this any night.” The words came out sharply, he sighed and pulled himself back. He didn’t mean to. “I’m sorry.”

Silence hung between them.

“Finn, are you paying for your sister's debts again?” She asked and his eyes snapped back up to meet hers. “If you’re having trouble keeping up with your bills. I’ll supplement your rent—”

“And what? Not live here? You already pay for a flat you never sleep at. You stay here, but you don’t really sleep here either. I would like to know that I’m coming home to you, not as a surprise, but because you live here.” He sat down and continued to pick at the food, but didn’t take a bite. Edwina had hit a nerve mentioning his sister, but she had already committed to the idiocy of conflict and she didn’t know how to dig herself out.

“What do you want?” She exasperated. “To make me a bride, have children, and move out to the countryside? You know why that doesn’t work for us.”

Finn’s heart sunk to the bottom of a frigid pool, like a stone. “I thought you didn’t want to do this tonight.”

“That’s not fair.”

“I love you, Winnie. I know you weren’t ready to say it back and I have been fine with that, but I’ve waited a year.” He placed the food on the low center table and stood up to meet her. His body language softened, his fingers trailed up her arm until his hand cupped her face. “I love you; I’ll always love you. One day you will either say it back or let me go. Because I know I can’t let you go.”

She knew she was torturing him, but she couldn’t let him go either. Her heart fell into her stomach as he peppered her face with delicate kisses. They were falling into the same pattern, curing heartache with wandering fingers breaching the hems of their clothes. It wasn’t long before the pair were strewn across Finn’s bed, tangled naked between cotton sheets. Her heart was quilted onto him, repeating this pattern with familiar stitches.

She stirred from her restful trance when he got up to a knock at the door. Edwina didn’t know how long had passed, the food long gone cold, the knocks became more insistent. Finn muttered frustrations as he pulled his robe over his body and went to the door. Edwina curled herself deeper into the bed waiting for the disruption to leave.

“Winnie, get dressed.” Finn’s voice sounded rushed.

“What happened?” She was instantly alert.

“There’s been a break-in at the morgue. Something’s been taken.”