Act Fifteen - Scene One: Failure

    ‘The hastiest alliances, for whatever period, made in whatever situation, are still alliances, and allies cannot be brushed aside like a piece of tissue used to blot lipstick. Even though Michael does tend to remind me of one sometimes. I just wish he’d take off the damn bandages and look me in the eye.’

    “So, my pretty pawn, what caused you to turn on your master and aide the Negotiator after so much work against him?”

    “I don’t consider what we did as aiding the Negotiator, Schwarzwald, I consider it working against Alex Rosewater.”

    “Any way you slice it you irrevocably stepped out of your job at Paradigm, sweetheart. There must be a reason. Neither of us is leaving here until I find out why.” His voice is taunting, jeering as it echoes around the two of us.

    I stand in the tunnel and stare at Schwarzwald. I know more about that man than he knows about himself, and yet he still has the gall to stand here and demand answers from me. Oh pity the poor man who thinks he can truly know or corner any woman.

    “Then it looks like the two of us will be here for a very long time.”

    “You don’t intend to let me in on anything, Fallen One?”

    I glare at him, eyes narrowing dangerously. My hand twitches and I want ever so much to grab the pistol I carry and put a slug right between his eyes. But now is not the time to loose my calm. If I am careful, Alex will never know it was me who betrayed him. But that will require Schwarzwald alive, breathing, and boasting further about the Memories he has discovered about the Incident forty years ago.

    “Not today, Professor.” He winces, probably thought I didn’t know about that. “But just know that Rosewater and I don’t always play for the same team.”

    “A comforting thought. Rather than waste our time then, let’s be on our way.”

    I nod.

    “But don’t be stupid enough to think the Negotiator will change his plans just because of a silly job coming to an end.”

    “What?”

    “Dear, dear Patricia… Casey… Angel,” he lets the last name roll off his tongue, tasting it and then continuing, “Don’t pretend to be so naïve. It doesn’t fit you, my dear. Even I am aware of the Negotiator’s reasons for attending the Saint’s Day gallantries.”

    I pull the gun, my temper short and his taunting not helping the slight headache I feel building in my temples, “Tell me why, then.”

    “Simple,” he laughs, a mocking, bitter sound, “Look to the lady, dear Angel. Look to the lady.”

    I growl and he cackles as he heads off down his own fork in the subway tunnels. No doubt he’ll pick some uselessly complex route to throw off any supposed pursuit he thinks I may give him, but that is of no matter. I frown and it turns to a scowl, which, accompanied by my gaze, is enough to make me, almost, want to go and put a stop to the reigning Rosewater’s snare for the Negotiator personally, but calmness gets the better of my enraged spirit, and I think again.

    How to convince Dorothy not to go to the Ball… With only two days remaining until it’s eve…

    There’s a better thing to concentrate my energies on than all this useless violence I seem trapped in at the moment. Keeping the pistol in hand I turn and head off down my own fork in the tunnels. It’s no secret where I’m going, nor need it be. I have to stop by the tailor’s and pick up my gown for the ball.

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