Dangerous and Beautiful

She was the very image of grace and beauty: her slender body writhing like a serpent’s to the flutes and drums. The mink’s short, lowcut dress was a bright red that contrasted with the mink’s white fur. The bar of the tavern was full of all manner of creatures, all of whom were inebriated in some way. Some were drunk on Veilwinter wines and ales, others lay in a stupor from smoking much stronger stuff: their minds beyond the mortal realms. 

For those that weren’t too far gone, their eyes were fixed on the mink as she twirled and gyrated, giving the patrons generous views of her body. The spectators were enraptured, unable to take their eyes from her. 

It was what she lived for: Her special gift, her charm over all others, even those that weren’t mustelids themselves. 

When the music ended the mink dancer bowed low before standing up and blowing a kiss to the patrons, earning shouts for her to do an encore. 

“Now, now, wait till the next show,” she chided her audience before she slipped behind the curtain to her dressing room. 

The mink sighed softly as she sank into the comfy chair before the mirror. She admired her good looks for a time before her fur began to stand up. Whirling she grabbed a stiletto from its hiding spot only to stop and sigh in relief. 

“Oh, it’s just you, mistress Margot. I hate it when you sneak up on me like that.”

A female lynx stood but a few feet from the mink her muzzle set in an unsettling smile as she approached. 

“My dear Spinrave, it is good to see you enjoying yourself. Vulane will always provide for us, wouldn’t you agree?”

The lynx was but a few feet from Spinrave, her eyes glowing with a manic light. Spinrave twitched her ears. 

“Indeed, but to what do I owe this pleasure?” 

Margot looked distant suddenly, her eyes unfocusing. “Always asking questions, questions, questions, questions. But answers are overrated, yes overrated indeed. Hmm-hmm.” 

It was another of one of her nonsensical ramblings, Spinrave had grown used to them but they still made her shudder. No one in Vulane was truly sane, but Margot was insane by even Vulane’s standards. Spinrave wisely waited till Margot was done with her rants and snatches of song before she asked. 

“Surely you have something you want from me? Or did you stop by for a chat?” 

“Yes yes yes,” Margot replied as she suddenly had Spinrave’s chin in her paw forcing the mink to look up into her eyes. “No mere chat, oh no no no. Our mistress Selthia has informed me that the rat is sniffing after me again. Oh, he just can’t let the past go, can he? He’s becoming focused again thanks to his new friends.” 

Spinrave’s tail twitched as she chuckled, “Oh, Mr. Rask? Yes I remember him quite well from when he stumbled into the house of the moon.”

Margot chuckled, “Rask, is what he was calling himself? Oh that IS funny. His name is actually Skreet. Detective Skreet Snickertooth.” 

Spinrave swallowed as Margot went from holding her chin to stroking the side of her face. Margot gave a deep, strange chuckle before she continued, releasing Spinrave’s soft face and plumping herself down on one of the large cushions in the room.

“I need you to work your charms on him again, show him a good time, go for drinks, whatever tickles your fancy. He needs... another setback. Something truly devastating. ...For amusement purposes, if nothing else.”

Spinrave nodded, “It shall be done, for you, and for our mistress, the witch queen.” 

Margot laughed once more. “Yes, Selthia and her partners are growing tired of these interlopers, especially after the sword incident. Perhaps with a little nudge toward madness, they shall all find their way under the living eyes of Veilwinter.” 

The two shared a laugh as the patrons outside continued to cavort.    

Skreet Snickertooth groggily got himself to his slender, clawed feet and began to pace. He was in the backroom of an alchemist shop he had woken up in. He and his companions had had a run in in the undercity, and had made even more enemies. 

Not what Skreet needed. 

He found the rest of his companions talking with the blind hyena shaman who was the proprietor. Draknor the reptiloid former gladiator, Farah the infamous ferret thief, and Amber the persistent meerkat journalist. What a crew he found himself with these days.

The ferret had noticed that the date was ‘wrong’ - she had been asleep for a few days while Grisha the shaman had administered the cure. Skreet had taken to the bottle again from the nearby tavern out of boredom and was just now coming back to consciousness.

Draknor was doing what he did best, looking intimidating without even trying as he tended to his swords, his own, as well as the longsword from the gladiator pits. The imposing reptiloid said nothing, merely surveyed the room as if waiting for his chance to spring. 

Amber was scrawling in her journals with a quill pin, completely absorbed in writing her latest scandalous stories.  

Farah got to her feet and started asking all sorts of questions: questions Skreet had already asked.

“So you do know the witch queen!” Farah said accusingly after a short conversation. “And you are in league with her?”

“If by ‘in league with her’ you mean ‘am paid occasionally by her’ then yes,” the old hyena said going through her bottles.

Skreet wiped his long nose on his sleeve. “I don’t suppose you know any lynxes who are ‘in league with her’ too, do you?”

Grisha slowed as she put a bottle back on a high shelf. Suddenly Skreet was sober. Grisha paused but then turned back to Farah.

“You will be okay,” the old hyena said to the ferret. “My relationship with the witch queen is but the occasional business transaction. Ingredients trading and the like.”   

Skreet started forward towards the old hyena, his detective instincts taking over, “I’m sorry ma’am, but I couldn’t help but notice you avoided the question pertaining to a certain lynx.” 

Draknor was barely listening, but stopped running his whetstone across the blade and eyed the group of mammals - his interest perked. Amber was still engrossed in her work, but Skreet was sure it was but a ruse and the meerkat was hearing every word.

Grisha sighed, weary of becoming involved with the group of wanted creatures, “Not long ago a female Lynx came to me. She was wounded and had coin to pay. That one I remember. I can not see as you do, but I could feel her whole aura was off and she spoke like a madbeast. I did not think much of it. She paid well, and as a courtesy I did not ask for a name.”  

Skreet grit his teeth. “Margot! It has to be!” 

Farah stepped back from Grisha. “What were the odds of this happening? Pretty sure the wound was from yours truly,” the ferret said, pointing at herself with a sly smirk. 

“We’re getting close now,” Skreet grunted. “I feel it.” 

Draknor spoke then, his tail thumping against the floor as his boulder-scraping voice resonated against the walls. 

“Yet once again we are a few steps behind, everytime we get close we’re always a bit behind.” 

Farah looked at Draknor, “Hey, hey, no pessimistic tones big guy! Don’t you want to get even with her for capturing you?” 

“Of course I do!” Draknor rumbled, “Why do you think I grow impatient? My very honor compels me to find her, and then... I must embark on another search.”

Farah tilted her head, “Just how many enemies do you have, Drak?”

“Many,” Draknor rumbled. “But this one is not a foe, I was told she perished in the raid… but so much of what mammals tell me is falsehood. I must know for myself.”

Skreet sighed, “For what it’s worth, I’ll help you in that search. But first we’ve got to finally catch that infuriating lynx.”   

Draknor growled. “The three of you helped me regain my sword. For that I am grateful. But in all my years I have never felt my patience grow so thin.”

“They must be very important to you.” Skreet observed. 

“Indeed.” Draknor grumbled.

Amber had stopped writing, right about the time Draknor had mentioned his ‘honor’. “Ooh, interesting! Do tell me more Draknor! In fact I want to hear your story of how you ended up here.” 

Draknor sighed. “Very well.” 

Skreet headed for the door. “You can tell me about it later friend. I want to hear it with my own ears... without Amber interjecting all the time.” 

Amber rolled her eyes. “Skreet, always the dour sort. No wonder you two get along so well, Draknor! No offense meant, of course.”

Skreet pushed the door of the shop open and pulled his coat around himself as the usual rains pelted him, he checked his fighting sticks hidden beneath his coat.  

He needed time to think, but he didn’t get very far from the shop before a familiar voice stopped him. 

“Rask? Rask, is that you? Oh, Rask! How wonderful to see you again!” 

‘Rask’? Oh, yes - he’d used a false name his first few nights in Vulane. 

Skreet turned to see a familiar mink running up to him, a broad grin on her muzzle. The dancer. Yes he remembered the mink and her deep, brown eyes well. 

“Spinrave isn’t it? Well, fancy meeting you here.” 

Spinrave smiled as she took his arm, “Fancy indeed. You’ve been making quite a name for yourself. I was hoping we would meet again. Come with me.” 

“A ‘name for myself’?”

“Yes, you and your little... and large... friends. Some very... interesting creatures wish to speak to you, but I think it best if you come out of the rain. If you trust me, that is.”

Skreet looked at her, did he trust her? He barely knew her. But despite this thought he found himself going along with her, lost in the sweet perfume of her fur.