Book 2 Chapter 49 - The Torment of Tantalus

We still don’t fully understand the nature of the mist.
Or the crystal.

Or the headmaster of this damn school, but that’s a separate matter.

What we do understand is simple.
There are paths to power that shouldn’t exist,
and the mist is what makes that possible.

We may all love our callings.
But honestly? I wish they never existed.
—Virgil Clay, Lecture

Violet watched the fountain as she waited for Samuel. 

It didn't irritate her nearly as much this time. It was kind of nice, actually. The flowing water made a soothing noise, and she almost wanted to take a nap while listening to it. It would offer an excellent ambiance while sleeping. She supposed she understood why it was there. Given the clarity necessary to keep it running and clean, it likely wasn't quite the expense it would have been in the old world. 

She didn't feel the urge to piss in it anymore. And not only because that would leave evidence. She also didn't need to pee at the moment, but that was largely unrelated to her updated appraisal of the decor. Largely.

She was simply in an excellent mood. 

Kiera was trusting her. More than she’d expected anyone ever would. Not just her value based on her rapid advancement. And not just the mask she wore all the time. This one time... this one night... Kiera was relying on Violet the Reaper.

A man who tried to control and lie to Violet was going to die. The same man who tried to take Kiera's freedom. Chase was stuck in the lobby, which was amusing. The annoying boy had had next to no subtlety while following her, and she'd spotted him nearly immediately. But he didn't know the code she’d been given for the elevator. So he’d be sitting in a lobby while the murder he wanted to record happened upstairs.

It was going to be a delicious evening.

She smiled as the door opened, and Samuel walked inside. His brow was beaded with sweat, and his breathing was heavier than it should have been. 

“How was dinner, sweetheart?” Violet asked.

Samuel took a heavy breath, and his eyes tracked the room wildly before landing on Violet. They widened when they did, but he didn't respond. Instead, he made an immediate right turn and stumbled into the next room of the suite.

“Oh, noooo, what are you looking for?” Violet called in a sing-song voice. “Did something happen to your medicine while you were at dinner? God, I hope it didn't get replaced with cocktail sauce while you weren't looking!”

She heard the cabinets opening and closing, and the clattering of empty flasks. It was frantic and musical to Violet's ears.

“Oh, shit! I’m sorry, Mr. Mulberry! I actually poured all of those out. I guess they just didn't seem important! And you know me, always fucking with the potions I find. It's a sickness, really. Honest to God,” Violet apologized.

Samuel somehow looked even worse when he emerged. Damp hair was sticking to his head, and his arms had started shaking. Symptoms he’d managed to hold back while he thought a cure was nearby. But as he failed to find a replacement flask, his control seemed to be slipping.

Violet smiled at the near-confirmation that Kiera had done her part. But near wasn't enough. So as Samuel rushed across the room and toward his bedroom, she fed clarity to Fatal Flaws. And she saw exactly what she expected.

His perception was even weaker than it had been the last time. It was still fluctuating from moment to moment by the same range, but its upper limit had drastically fallen. Combined with his panic, the story was clear. During dinner, his perception had fallen below the threshold that Kiera could fool him with her illusions. And once that happened? Well. He stood no chance of protecting his flask from his daughter this time.

And this time, Violet knew the truth. There was no need to mix poison into it. Taking it away would be enough. Especially if he didn't notice until Kiera was well on her way back to Chromatic.

“You won't find any in your room, either, I’m afraid. I may have been irresponsible in my handling of it, but I was thorough, at least. It seems I’ve scrubbed this entire hotel of even a single dose. But that's alright, isn't it? I mean. You made it the first time, right?” Violet teased.

Samuel ignored her and charged into his room anyway. He obviously wouldn't believe it was all gone until he’d confirmed it himself. There was always a possibility she'd missed something. Or at least, he clearly thought there was. She heard drawers thrown from his dresser and hangers torn from his closet. 

He had to believe he had at least one dose left. He needed to.

“Where is it?” he demanded, marching back into the main room where Violet lounged. “I know you saved at least one. Where did you hide it?”

“What's wrong?” Violet asked. “You're an apothecary, aren't you? If you need a certain potion, simply make more? What's the issue?”

Samuel started storming towards her in rage, but lost his balance and collided with an end table as he did. He knocked a lamp off the table as he barely caught himself. The shattering sound of the glass seemed to punctuate his fall, although he remained uninjured. 

The fall had broken him all the same.

“Please. Please, I need my medicine,” he begged.

“‘Medicine’ is a pretty strong word for it, isn't it?” Violet asked. “I mean. I don't know exactly how it works, of course. My new talent doesn't actually tell me such specific details. It only tells me what your current weaknesses are. And how to exploit them, of course. But with the report I got from my uncle, I think I can put the pieces together. This may not be an entirely accurate guess, so feel free to stop me if I’m wrong.”

“I’ll just tell you! But please, I need whatever is left!” Samuel interrupted with a shout. As he did, he lost his balance on the table and collapsed over it. The way he faceplanted into the sofa on the other end made Violet audibly giggle. She kicked her feet in amusement before rocking on her haunches, then pushing herself to a standing position in a single motion.

She strolled towards the sick man with her hands clasped behind her back, leaning over him when she reached the couch. 

“I think, when this all started, you knew your wife wasn't sick. Maybe she nagged you too much. Maybe she got too old for your taste. Maybe you never really liked her much, and she was just a convenient target. I suppose there could be some genetic requirement for your victims, and this was the reason you married her in the first place. That would certainly explain why you came all this way for Kiera. Rather than simply picking a new victim in town,” she mused.

Samuel tried to respond, but he was apparently losing strength in his limbs. All he managed was a muffled noise against a cushion. Violet crouched and picked up a piece of the glass lamp. She gently pressed it against Samuel’s neck as she sat down next to him.

“It doesn't really matter. What matters is that you knew what you were doing. You see, my cousins were watching you pretty closely. Your philanthropy was bad for business in Flag, I suppose. In any case, they were certain you were poisoning your family. They didn't know why, but they knew you were. That's not all they didn't know, though,” Violet ranted.

She pressed the glass into his skin, but failed to cut him with it. His constitution, endurance, and resistance were significant, apparently. Even after his deterioration. Perception, dexterity, and agility had taken the worst hit, it seemed. That was as expected, however, and Violet tossed the shard of glass to the side like an old bottle.

“Pretty thick skin, interesting. I’m looking forward to that, when I hit green. Speaking of which, my dear family couldn't figure out how you managed it yourself. Making it to Category Green, that is. There isn't a lot of clarity near Flag. There isn't much in any mountain town, in fact. Flag isn’t right on the bay like Prism is. Compared to the clarity here, you must have been breathing through a straw back there. It's the trade-off for relative safety from the mist. Yet you made it, somehow. Impressive. Or, it would be, anyway,” Violet continued. 

She created a shining orange knife in one hand. Large with a serrated edge. She held this against the same spot the glass had touched. She paused as she thought she saw something, but even Samuel’s muffled complaining had stopped. So she shrugged and continued to speak.

“I put it together when I understood your weakness. The way your life depends on your own potions. And not just any potions, in fact. A very specific kind I’m told you always have on you. And look at you without it! You look like a dead fish, but somehow more clammy. But I’m guessing it’s not a treatment for an illness with these symptoms, am I right? That’s not the impression I get from Fatal Flaws, anyway. You don’t have a potion designed to keep you healthy. Rather, it is the lack of the so-called medicine that’s making you sick, isn’t it? This is withdrawal,” Violet guessed.

Violet pushed the orange knife against Samuel’s artery. It broke the skin, but only barely. That was interesting, but not unexpected. His constitution must have been one of his best attributes. Or... at least one his potions had the greatest impact on. Either way, it was clear she wasn’t going to slit his throat. Not without great effort, anyway. She idly wondered what would happen if she could create a weapon with more leverage. Something that could collapse on itself and sever his head with enough pressure. It was possible. She’d killed a yellow with red needles, after all. A green with orange weapons shouldn’t have been too significant a difference. 

It didn’t matter, though. That would be far too messy, anyway. She dropped the knife on the ground and shrugged. She was about to speak again when she paused. Her talent was feeding her some... unexpected information. Irritating information, in fact. But she would deal with it. She always found a way to handle everything. She eyed the fountain in the middle of the room and grinned.

“At first, I assumed you’d been weakened by the poison. Kiera had dosed you with enough to knock you out, after all. Enough that she thought you were dead. That was an accident, by the way. She just wanted to get away from you—as women often do, I bet. Not me, though. Don’t worry about that. You and I will be together ‘til death do us part, I promise,” she continued in a saccharine tone. “But that didn't make sense. Kassie and her team are fine. Even Kiera is fine. They all have excellent attributes. But you? You're far too weak for your category. Perhaps you burned through too much of your advantage just... surviving the poison? That would make sense.”

She rose to her feet and brushed herself off. It was only now that she finally reached up to her hair and pulled the ribbon out. She shook her head a little, then grabbed her hair on either side to smooth it out and push it over her shoulders. She sniffed as she looked around the room, then nodded. Once she was comfortable, she rested her hand in Samuel’s hair, caressing it a few times before she closed her fist. With a solid grip on his scalp, she began to walk. She heard a gasp as his body was yanked from the sofa and he could finally take a decent breath.

“W–What the fuck are you doing?” he said through panting breaths.

Violet lifted his scalp so he could see her looking down, and she held one finger up. She wagged it back and forth and shook her head at him. “Profanity is the resource of a small mind, Mr. Mulberry. None of that now! I’m a young and impressionable girl, after all. Anyway, what were we talking about?” she asked. “Oh, that’s right. Your potions. Kind of gross, don’t you think? I’m not certain exactly how they work, but you obviously use your family as an ingredient, don’t you? Or do you simply cultivate the ingredient inside of them? Is that why you need them so sick all the time? I’m so interested in how it works. How you manage to systemically murder my best friend and her mom, just so you can reach a higher category without moving somewhere dangerous, like Prism. There are so many little details I am missing. But I’m right, aren’t I? About the basics. You use your family to create. It helps you advance. You get praise, and they get sick. And so long as your daughter doesn’t run away with her boyfriend, you get everything you want. The withdrawal is nasty, and it makes you weak when you have to ration. But it works. Come on. I’m right, aren’t I?” 

“I... I would never...” Samuel was struggling to speak. Not shocking, considering he couldn’t even move. Anyone would struggle while being dragged across the room by the head, but the withdrawal was also getting worse with each passing second. 

“I don’t know if you believe that now. But you did. And you will never be hurting Kiera again. Sorry, sweetheart. But I don’t think you’ll be doing much at all again. Not even breathing. Which is a mild shame. I would love some answers to my questions. Like how you avoided the draft before with your calling. I suppose I’ll ask Bouvier about that. I’m afraid our conversation is over,” Violet replied with a pout. 

She’d made it to the fountain, and she lifted Samuel as she did. She was much shorter than him, so even with her hand raised, his legs dangled as she held him. Having a strength attribute was incredible. Once upon a time, she’d have struggled to lift this man with both hands. She examined his face. It had an amusing pattern printed on it. One that matched the lattice of the sofa. It was affecting the path his tears took as they ran down his cheeks. Violet tilted her head as she examined him. It was fascinating how easy it was from this close. To tell the difference between tears, snot, and sweat. Each had a unique quality to it as they decorated his face.

“This might be a little slow, I’m afraid,” Violet apologized. “But I don’t have a knife that can cut deep enough to finish the job quickly. Oh, well.”

Finally, she dropped him and allowed his head to submerge in the fountain.