Chapter 1
Mary had two problems, the moon and her eyelash. The moon, because it was a rather sad shade of yellow that was providing atrocious lighting for the conversation she was going to have with the Black Tips in…right about now.
The eyelash in her eye was truly annoying as well, almost as annoying as the fact that something as small as that could kill her – or worse, ruin her career as the bastard of the barrel.
She furiously blinked as they stood, waiting for the Black Tips to show up in the square. She had brought Sirius and Brian with her as her seconds that night, they were annoyingly gossiping behind her about some Shu shipments. Her eyes found Lily’s, up in the shadows. She nodded, and Lily flipped down and walked over.
“This feels like a trap,” she said as she joined the group, startling Brian. “Geels is up to something.”
“Of course he is,” Mary said.
“Then why are we here?” Sirius questioned, fidgeting with his guns.
“Because Malfoy wants us to be,” Mary replied, shrugging. She had other reasons, of course, but they would have to wait to be revealed at the right moment.
Lucius Malfoy was the nominal leader of the Phoenixes. He spent his days holed up in his office with bottles of liquor, long stories of exaggerated exploits, reading mystery novels and building model ships, pretending he actually mattered. Mary had all the power with the Phoenixes and she and everybody else knew it.
“Well, he’s going to get us all killed,” Lily said.
“Statistically speaking, he’ll only get some of us killed,” Sirius replied with a shining grin.
Lily rolled her eyes. Someone wasn’t in the mood for Sirius’s jokes tonight, although they weren’t really jokes in this case. Sirius was just evaluating the odds, but unlike at the gambling table, he was very accurate in his guessing tonight.
Brian laughed and cracked his knuckles, “Well I’ve got coffee and pizza waiting for me at the Kooperom, so I better not be the one dying tonight.”
“Care to place a wager?” asked Sirius.
“I am not betting on my own death,” said Brian, incredulous.
“What’s so different about tonight, Brian?” Mary asked. “We basically do just that every day.”
Brian was saved from having to reply by the bells ringing. It was time. She rubbed her eye one last time.
“Ok, now listen up,” Mary whispered to the group, “Dolohov is no genius, but he’s smart enough to be trouble. So, no matter what you hear, do not start a fight or join the fray unless I explicitly tell you to do so. Just…stay sharp,” she turned her gaze to Lily, “and stay hidden.”
She didn’t dare add stay safe to the list.
“No mourners,” Lily said with a smirk, holding her hands out for Sirius’s guns.
“No funerals,” the rest of them replied. It was their cheerful equivalent to break a leg! or good luck!
“But if anything happens to my guns, Lily, I’ll spell forgive me on your chest in bullets,” said Sirius as he begrudgingly handed them over.
“You wouldn’t waste all that ammo.”
“She’d be dead halfway through ‘forgive’ anyways,” added Brian.
“It’s not about the ammo or how fast she dies, Brian, it’s about the message.”
“You and your flair for the dramatics.”
“Toujours,” said Sirius, winking.
“How about a compromise,” Mary piped in, “I’m sorry says the same thing with fewer bullets.”
Sirius shook his head solemnly, “It’s not the same.”
Lily chuckled and made a show of safely tucking the revolvers away in her belt as if she were tucking them in for bed, then she disappeared to wherever she’d watch over them.
A minute and a half later, the Black Tips finally arrived. Dolohov had brought Yaxley and Rookwood with him. Dolohov himself looked to be in his forties, with streaks of gray highlighting his sawdust hair and stubble and smile lines already on their way to being prominent. His green eyes were set on Mary, looking a little glazed over. He wore a green and gold pinstripe suit, matching his egregious fake gold watch studded with more fake jewels.
“MacDonald,” Dolohov said.
“Dolohov,” Mary said, echoing Dolohov’s monotone voice.
Brian walked forward to pat down Dolohov, Yaxley, and Rookwood for weapons. Yaxley patted Mary, Sirius, and Brian down.
Dolohov and Mary made small talk about the abysmal weather while their seconds did this. It was an agonizing few minutes.
“Well then,” Mary said once they had finished, tightening her hands on the head of her cane – a little keepsake from a bad fall off a roof when she was thirteen, “What do you want?”
“Let’s be fair, ok? We just want a little more scrub. It isn’t all that fair for you to snatch up every tourist that steps off a pleasure-boat in Fifth Harbor.”
Mary resisted pointing out that it probably was, considering that Fifth Harbor had been all but abandoned by Ketterdam until she had taken over and tore it down then rebuilt it from scratch. Malfoy had been furious at her for it, thinking it to be a deathly and useless expense and asking her to “take that rope and hang herself”, but it had paid for itself in less than a year once completed. Now, Fifth Harbor was the docking place of many mercher ships, and more importantly boats carrying tourists and soldiers who were eager to get a taste of Ketterdam’s many sights and pleasures. The Phoenixes got first pick on all of them, steering them and their wallets into the clubs, taverns, brothels, and gambling dens owned by them. Fifth Harbor had made their gang quite rich, cementing them as main players of the barrel in ways that not even the Phoenix Club had been able to do. Unfortunately, being main players of the barrel meant…well that they were main players of the barrel. Wanted money came with unwanted attention – the Black Tips making trouble for the Phoenixes and plucking pigeons that weren’t theirs.
“Fifth Harbor belongs to us, Dolohov. It’s not up for negotiation. You’ve been cutting into our traffic from the docks and intercepted a shipment of felix that should’ve been here two days ago.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“I know how easy it is for you, but I must ask that you don’t play dumb with me.”
A muscle in Dolohov’s jaw quivered. He took a step forward.
“Don’t tempt me, girl,” Dolohov said very slowly, “We both know the old man doesn’t have the stomach for a brawl.”
“But the old man’s not here, is he? I am, and I promise my stomach is perfectly okay with war.”
She batted her eyelashes for effect.
“And what if you weren’t here, MacDonald? It’s no secret that you’re the spine of Malfoy’s operation. I snap it, and the Phoenixes go with you.”
“Sounds like you’re threatening me, Dolohov.”
“Maybe I am. Maybe there are two aurors with city-issue rifles pointed at you and your boys right now.”
“Well that’s quite an expensive endeavor. I’m not entirely sure the coffers of a gang like the Black Tips could support it.”
“Yes, well, the prize is more than worth it,” Dolohov said with a creepy chuckle, “and I’m sure it’ll pay for itself in no time.”
“The prize being me?”
“You know it, sweetheart.”
“Do you like your tongue?”
“The Phoenixes won’t last a week without you.”
“Oh, I’d give them a month off of sheer momentum. I’d make a great martyr.”
Dolohov laughed. “You smug little barrel rat, it’s about time someone shut you up.”
“Then what are you waiting for?”
“A bullet in your good leg first, perhaps?”
Perhaps was right, “Do you ever shut up, Geels,” Mary asked as she rolled her eyes, “Just give the order, get it over with.” She made her voice as soft as she could, like teaching the most idiotic student in the world.
“Um, Mary–” Sirius whispered nervously from behind her.
“Come on, Geels. The anticipation is killing me. Find your balls and do it? Or are they just that microscopic?”
Dolohov turned beet red and shouted, “Fire!”
Poor Brian shouted in pain and surprise, then crumpled to the ground.
“Are you insane, Dolohov!” shouted Sirius, “You just violated neutral territory!”
“Who’s to say you didn’t shoot first? It’ll be my word against yours, and I think people are more inclined to believe the person who’s still living,” Dolohov replied, but there was a new anxiety in his voice that hadn’t been there a minute ago. Everything was going exactly as she planned.
“Are you okay, Dolohov? You sound a little…flustered?”
“I’m fine,” Dolohov practically barked back.
“Are you,” Mary asked, “I mean, things can’t be going how you planned, can they?”
“What the hell are you talking about?” shouted Dolohov, holding onto his composure with his teeth.
“Mary,” Sirius was saying behind her, “Brian’s bleeding pretty badly.”
“And?”
“He needs a medic.”
“No, he needs to be glad I didn’t have Fletcher take him down with a head shot.”
Dolohov flinched. Mary couldn’t stop the corners of her lips from turning upwards.
“What? Mundungus Fletcher and Daedalus Diggle are the two aurors on duty tonight, they’re the ones you emptied the Black Tips’ coffers to bribe, remember?”
Dolohov didn’t reply.
She kept going, “Let’s recap, Diggle likes to gamble as much as Sirius does, so your money was very appealing to him. But Fletcher, on the other hand, has much bigger problems…or should we call them urges? I won’t bore you with the details, secrets don’t keep their value in the spending anyways. Just trust me when I say that this secret would turn even your stomach. Am I right, Fletcher?”
A gunshot striking the cobblestone near Dolohov’s feet was all the reply they needed.
Dolohov looked up in desperation. “Just shoot her, Fletcher! Make it a headshot!”
Mary followed Dolohov’s gaze to the rooftop, “Do you really think your secret will die with me, Fletcher? Fire that rifle and there will be messengers at your wife, your parents, and your captain’s doors before the bullet even touches my skull.”
He didn’t fire.
Mary waited for Dolohov to speak first, she needed the time and was curious what his next, unplanned move would be.
“How?” Dolohov said, glaring at Mary in desperation and anger, “How could you even know who’d be on duty tonight? I had to pay half my weight in galleons to get the roster. You couldn’t have outbid me.”
“I suppose my currency carries more sway.”
“Money is money,” Dolohov scoffed.
“You’d think you didn’t even live in the barrel, Dolohov! I trade in information, in all the things men do when they think no one is watching. Shame holds more value than coin ever could.”
Mary waited a moment before making her next move. Time to take some fun risks, grandstand a little. Why not?
“Are you worried about the second guard, too? He’s probably up there right now, wondering and agonizing over what his next move should be,” she enunciated each word for effect, “Shoot me? Shoot Fletcher? Maybe I got to him, too, and he’s getting ready to put your brain on display,” she leaned in a little, like they were just two elementary school kids getting ready to play mermaids or monopoly and share secrets, “Why don’t you give good old Daedalus the order and we can all find out?”
Dolohov looked her up and down, studied the cobblestone, bit his cheek, then called, “Diggle!”
Mary tensed, but no shot came. Lily was right on time.
Dolohov called for Diggle to fire again, but there was just silence. He sighed and turned back to Mary, but before he could say anything, she said, “Yes, Dolohov, I know. I am always one step ahead, or in your case, I’ve already finished the race, and gone home, and then took a nice, long shower and read all of Crime and Punishment by Fyodor Dostoevsky.”
Then Dolohov took out his gun, “Who’s cocky now?”
“Still you, Antonin. Thanks for the big reveal, now Sirius can stop crying over Brian like you killed his cat.”
“Wait what,” Sirius blurted out incredulously, his bright blue eyes darting from Dolohov to Mary to Brian on the floor, “But he–Brian…” he hung his head and slapped Brian’s bloody cheek before standing.
“Great! You’ve outed your little traitor!” Dolohov said, dripping with sarcasm, “Now, how are you going to wriggle your way out of this one, or are they exaggerating when they say you’re the great escape artist?”
“No exaggerations were made, at least none that I know of.” She prodded Brian’s bullet wound with her cane, turning her attention to him. “Do you know what your biggest problem is?”
No answer.
“That was not a rhetorical question. What is your biggest problem?”
“I don’t know…” Brian said, starting to cry.
Mary sighed, “Fine. I’ll tell you. You’re a lazy piece of shit. You’re too fucking lazy and everyone knows it. So when you started getting up early twice a week to walk two extra miles to the Hog’s Head for breakfast when the coffee at the Kooperom is infinitely better, it’s not even comparable really, I made the easiest connection on the planet. Brian is getting up early for some mediocre coffee, the Black Tips start messing around in Fifth Harbor and intercept our biggest shipment of felix, and there you have it. Idiot.”
Dolohov rolled his eyes. “This doesn’t even matter anymore, MacDonald. I’m firing at close range here, you’re not dodging this bullet.”
“Oh, but I am,” and she stepped forwards so that the barrel of the gun was on her chest. The sirens started.
“Fifteen rue du parc,” Mary whispered.
Dolohov flinched again, the gun traveling slightly away from Mary’s chest.
“Is your boyfriend doing okay?” she asked in mock concern.
“Don’t have one.”
“Mm I’m pretty sure you do. And he’s a pretty one, way out of your league. Truly, I have no idea what the poor guy sees in you, but I suppose love is strange that way. And you do love him, don’t you? I mean, how could you not? Tell me, Toni, does he like to rest his head on your shoulder as you watch nature documentaries, ask you about your day?”
Dolohov opened his mouth as if he was going to say something, but it seemed he was beyond words.
“I know he lives at fifteen rue du parc,” Mary rasped, “and if I don’t leave our meeting in righteous glory, then two of my phoenixes are going to set him and his lovely gardenias on fire. I wonder if there’ll be anything left to bury once they clear out all the fire.”
“You’re bluffing,” Dolohov said, but his voice cracked.
“Am I? You heard the siren heading in his direction, and,” she took a deep breath, “I think the air’s getting a tad smokey, don’t you?”
Dolohov’s eyes were darting around, as he thought frantically, his gun completely off of Mary’s chest now.
“Look, you can think I’m bluffing, kill me, and have poor Edgar’s death on you. You’ll spend the rest of your life in solitude with no money thinking about how badly you fucked up just for the sad satisfaction of putting a bullet in my heart-”
“If you even have one,” interjected Dolohov.
Mary laughed, which only scared Dolohov more, “Or we all walk out of here. You stay out of Fifth Harbor and get to live your life as happy as you can be with Edgar and dream of getting revenge on a new, brighter day. It’s your decision, Dolohov. Are we going home tonight?”
Dolohov dropped his pistol. “You’ll get what’s coming to you one day, MacDonald.”
“Sure I will, Dolohov, if there’s any justice in this world, and we all know the answer to that. Now tell your boss to keep the Black Tips out of Fifth Harbor and that we expect repayment for the felix shipment you intercepted, plus five percent for drawing your gun on neutral ground and another five for being complete and utter assholes.”
She was going to walk away, but then she got a silly little idea, and you can’t really blame her for that. Mary swung her cane in one swift arc that was sure to shatter most of the bones in Dolohov’s wrist.
“What the hell! I stood down,” shouted Dolohov as he fell to his knees.
“Draw a weapon on me again, and I break the other hand and you’ll have to spend what little money you have on hiring someone to help you piss. Or maybe you can ask Edgar to do that, if that’s the kinda thing you’re into.”
“Oh, and Brian,” she said as she walked away, “assuming you don’t bleed out tonight, if I find out you’re in the city after sunset tomorrow, they’ll find you stuffed in a keg at the Hog’s Head. And if you help him, Dolohov, or if he’s running with the Black Tips at all, don’t think your fate will be any different.”
“Mary!” Brian cried, “Please!”
“You had a home, Brian, and then you blew it up without a second thought. Don’t think you’re ever getting sympathy from me.”
Despite – or rather in spite of – the loaded gun at the Black Tips’ feet, Mary turned her back and walked out of the Exchange. Sirius at her heels, and Dolohov shaking his head in disbelief.