Who: Ethan Jordan, Nicodemo Penrose & Larkin Whitby
What: RUNNING SECRETS FEELS AHH!
Where: a bazaar! Istanbul!
When: today!
Larkin was in the process of making a show concerning the largest eggplant she had possibly ever seen for Nico, when she noticed that her friend’s attention was elsewhere. Specifically, somewhere behind her, which wasn’t much help because this was a bazaar, and many attention-worthy things tended to be in places like this. Her hands dropped to her sides, and she turned to glance over her shoulder.
“What is it?” she asked lightly, thinking it might be a potential dispute brewing, or free
samples--- her eyes went wide as she saw something much worse, and much more panic-inducing.
No, no, no, no,
no!
Turning back quickly, Larkin ducked her head and busied herself with organizing the large purple vegetable in her hands back on its display properly. How could they have possibly--- her heart caught in her throat as she
realized that that idiotic quidditch gossip rag had mentioned her name in its article about Seth and Michal last week. Those stupid drunk boys! Look what their shenanigans had done
now!
“I’m going to find Ethan,“ she announced casually, inspite of her heart racing and her hair standing on its ends while she spoke. She hadn’t mentioned a
lick of this to Nico yet, how she had spent her spring last year, being thoroughly embarrassed about it that bringing it up never had seemed like a good time. And now? Well, maybe there was still hope to escape.
Merlin if they did, she
swore she would come clean! What a well-played wake-up call, irony gods! Lesson learned! She would tell everyone about her Jordanian indiscretions!
Instead of thinking about how quickly and efficiently she could explain the potential situation unfolding in front of them, Larkin left Nico to find their friend within the stands. Maybe she would be able to easily usher the three of them out of there before it was too late.
Nicodemo had been vigilant for the last few days. It started at a bazaar, much like this one. Nothing certain, simply a tugging feeling in the pit of his stomach, but all he could find were two men in rather plain black thawb, occupying a small, dusty cafe table for a long period of time, though they hadn't ordered anything. He studied them for a moment, but their keffiyeh and dark glasses obscured their faces to the same degree as the other similarly garbed men dotting the crowds. He'd simply shrugged and gone about his business as usual.
But then he began to see them everywhere, even the Quidditch games. The pair hid in the crowd well enough, but made no effort to become a part of the thrumming mass of people surrounding them.
Nicodemo and Larkin were being tailed.
At first, he thought it reasonable to assume they were Ministry agents, sent to watch the troublesome group that had landed in jail and likely broken a gaggle of Secrecy Statutes to get there (wasn't he jealous he'd missed out on
that), but he hadn't noticed tails on any of the other mischief makers. Today, he openly watched them, a cool expression on his face as he gave Larkin's eggplant routine his split attention, waiting patiently for her to make them as well. And when she did, felt gratified by her stiffness, since that meant he had been right on the nose.
They had found them.
The corners of his mouth lifted in a fierce, hard grin. There was nothing he liked better than a chance to dance with the illustrious duo of the East. Nicodemo supposed the score had yet to be evened between them, but that was too bad. Larkin and he were just barely ahead, and he intended to stay that way. But his curiosity was piqued; he'd long ago stopped wondering how they were so efficient at tracking the two of them, and instead focused on 'why.' If it was to recover some property Nicodemo had helpfully lifted off their hands last March, that would stay their loss. By now they had to realise this was solely a pleasure trip for the curse-breakers, so he wondered if they were exploiting this opportunity to move on some leads that had escaped either his or Larkin's reach.
Trusting the goons would continue to act in their capacity as watchdogs, but unwilling to let Larkin out of his sight, he just as casually tugged her back enough to sling his arm around her shoulders. Resuming their search for Ethan, he tossed his hair out of his face for a quick look back at the men. "Tell me, have you recently heard from our good friends, the Petrovs?"
The Petrovs? Larkin straightened a bit, her mind moving quick. Yes, that would be an excellent cover! For the time being, she added hastily within her own thoughts. The Petrovs, her and Nico’s archenemies that seemed to be everywhere with endless power,
they could be following them with the intent of making contact. Or other worser things.
She would continue to let Nico operate under these pretenses until it was no longer convenient. Very good plan.
“I have not,” Larkin said, her head tilting and her lips forming into a small smile. That, was true. The last contact she had had with either one of the twins had been.... oh Merlin’s left saggy ball, in
Jordan. Her stomach dropped, and in an attempt to hide her paling face, Larkin turned her head away for a moment. But, her pretense of cooling observation was ruined, for upon her quick glance, she spotted two more darkly dressed men making their way onto the main road from a side street.
That--- was not--- she ducked her head, letting her hair cascade over the sides of her face. And, despite feeling nothing but a deep will to maintain her current status, Larkin shifted under Nico’s arm to press a bit closer to him to feel comforted. Perhaps the thought of what these men could achieve did frighten her a bit.
“Where is Ethan?” Her voice came out demanding, now feeling the invisible clock weighing heavy. If she could
just get a hold of him, then they could apparate out of this anxiety-inducing mess.
Ethan smiled sweetly at the girl behind the stand, who was blushing furiously and avoiding his eyes. He held out the few lira he was willing to spare for the rather large bag of strawberries he’d packed up. She had already allowed him to taste test several with a few choice words and phrases that he’d perfected from his English to Turkish dictionary. He jingled the coins of lira in his hand one more time, and finally with a great laugh and sigh, she reached out and accepted his payment.
“Brilliant!” he exclaimed, swiping up his bag of strawberries. Ethan grinned triumphantly and tucking his bag of strawberries under his arm, he tipped his hat with a final goodbye to the girl. She shooed him away and he went back to eating the most delicious strawberries he had ever tasted. This world traveling business was going to ruin his figure, or find himself in heaps of trouble with a variety of farmers because of their daughter’s indiscretions. It was far more exciting than the year and a half he’d spent in a deep depression and physical therapy, that was for sure, and Ethan was going to enjoy it for as long as he could.
He spotted Larkin and Nico coming toward him through the crowd and he stopped walking to let them meet him while he munched on his recent purchase. Istanbul was really a beautiful city; he’d been here before for dueling tournaments, but his schedule had always been too packed to really explore. Merlin, he didn’t even know what day it was; soon, he was sure, he would be living in a tent like Nico. One with a guest flap for his mother, of course, but. Ethan was ready to show them his winnings, but the frustrated expression on Larkin’s face made him falter. He tried to finish chewing to ask her what was wrong, but he was grabbed by his fellow curse breaker rather roughly and pulled back through the crowd.
“My strawberries!” Ethan let out in a whine as he watched his beautiful bag fall to the ground. “I’ve got one good arm Larkin,
one!” he yelled as he struggled to pull it out of her vice like grip.
For the love of--- “Hush up!” Larkin hissed, doing her best to secure a firm grip on Ethan’s arm. What little desire she’d previously had for keeping a nonchalant facade vanished after the few minutes in had taken her and Nico to physically find Ethan, leaving her patience thin and her fear obvious. He kept moving, slipping through her fingers, preventing her from safely--- how in the world was she supposed to apparate the three of them out of this situation if he kept twisting out of a tight grasp? Did he
want them to become surrounded by the now
six wrapped in black persons, all making their ways quite effortlessly through the crowd. Far too effortlessly for her liking, actually.
A seized feeling took a tight hold of her, and before she could stop herself, Larkin shook herself from Nico and let her mouth run. “It’s not the Petrovs!” she blurted, facing him while releasing Ethan to only seconds later promptly push him forward. Running usually worked, didn’t it? She supposed she could apparate herself out, since this team’s target was her, but she couldn’t... leave her friends. They had been spotted too, and time was running thin--- Larkin shook her head, and swung her flying hair over her shoulder.
“RUN!” she let out, unable to give any kind of further explanation. Larkin pulled Nico, and pushed Ethan, before letting go and breaking out into a sprint of the opposite direction of their followers.
What the fuck? was all Nicodemo had time to think before he was racing to keep up with Larkin. They were practically flying out of the bazaar, until the colourful vendors and produce stands dwindled to nothing, and the large, dusty buildings with their narrow, deserted alleys loomed before them. Half-way there, he'd managed to splutter, "
Not the Petrovs?" but not much else. But his mind was working furiously as they ran, wondering who the hell else it would be. What sort of intelligence did Larkin have that he didn't, to know this?
He'd managed a few looks over his shoulder and saw they were being pursued by no less than six of the garbed men, and Nicodemo was willing to stake a fair amount on the fact that they were all of a Wizarding persuasion. As they had fired no spells, nor visibly drawn their wands yet, he assumed everyone was similarly agreed that they needed to hide themselves from prying Muggle eyes before properly facing off—or Apparating. He knew Larkin certainly couldn't afford to violate more Secrecy Statutes, and he had no intention of placing her in that kind of situation.
Unlike his best friend, however, he was much less concerned with Apparating to apparent safety, and much more concerned with launching a few hexes and possibly even bloodying a few noses if they were Disarmed fast enough. And, most of all, getting some damn answers. Which, he decided, now was as good a time as any to get. Drawing his wand, he slowed and wheeled around, arms outspread in a careless gesture.
He wasn't concerned about the odds. He knew Larkin and he had taken on more than a handful of any number of angry mobs, natives, rivals, etc., individually (not always with the best results, but) as well as together, and Ethan, one-armed or not, had been a dueler. The odds, in point of fact, were almost criminally easy. But he cared more about who he was facing off with, and why.
"I don't
quite recall being finished with my browsing," he said, fixing his features into an unimpressed expression. "I find that a bit
rude."
“What the fuck!”
Ethan had not been expecting to get chased through the street market and with his strawberries far behind him he was beginning to wonder if Larkin had. This didn’t just
happen, there had to be a
reason they were being hounded by these dark robed figures. He’d been filled in with quite a few marvelous stories about the curse-breaker duo’s encounters with The Petrovs, but he had clearly heard Larkin state that those chasing them were
not their infamous rivals. If Larkin knew who they
weren’t, Ethan thought, there was a good chance that she knew who they
were.
Breathing heavily, Ethan grabbed Larkin’s arm to make a turn into a small alleyway. It would have potentially made for a quick escape, but that was when he saw Nico confronting the masked men. His chest was pounding, but he couldn’t figure out if it was with fear or excitement. This sort of high-risk situation was what Ethan thrived for, why he’d gone into professional dueling---he
craved the bolt of adrenaline that pulsated through him when he was about to start a match, a duel, a
fight. It was what kept him focused, he could feel his blood already beginning to boil with anticipation, all of his senses were going
mad.
But this wasn’t a match where rules and guidelines were set. This wasn’t even a tomb where they’d been expecting to run into dangers that may call for wands to be drawn and hexes to be hurled. Whatever was going on, whoever was chasing them, whatever
this was, Ethan knew one thing for sure: Larkin was the one they were after.
“Get out of here! Go!” he said, pushing her further down the alleyway. From their time spent together he knew that this would probably be a fruitless attempt at getting her to leave, but Ethan could try and help Nico put some space between them and their pursuers. He sent her a hard glare before running back toward Nico, trying to swiftly count how many men now had them surrounded as he whipped out his wand. Bloody hell.
“Very rude,” Ethan said, taking a stance beside Nico. His heart was beating madly, and even with being outnumbered, a small grin crossed his lips, “Reckon’ they owe me some strawberries.”
His foot tapped, a habit he’d never been able to get rid of as he prepared for a duel. All those years of discipline with Professor Flitwick had only
nearly eliminated the hyperactivity his younger self had been plagued with. But, oh well.
He’d been itching for a fight.
Larkin stumbled as Ethan pushed her forward, and by the time she whipped back around he had disappeared behind the corner. These!
Stupid! Boys! They had no idea what they were dealing with! Or what this team was capable of, or even what they would do if-- her hands shot to her head, palms digging into her temples in an attempt stop this blossoming panic attack. Momentarily paralyzed, Larkin’s knees locked and she leaned awkwardly against the wall behind her as her mind raced.
This couldn’t be happening, this
really couldn’t be happening! Here, in a random street corner in
Istanbul. She had avoided them for so long, avoided
him that she had thought it would be safe to--- was he here? Could he be here? Would he be--- Nico! Ethan! She couldn’t leave them, wouldn’t leave them, and not just because they were her friends, but because this was entirely her problem and she couldn’t let them get mixed in the middle of it. Bad results, this could all end very badly---
She really, really,
really wished she was a self-preserving Slytherin, wouldn't that be easy? Just pop away from her clear impending doom to let her friends deal with this disaster. That would be
wonderful. But she wasn’t. She was a foolhardy, brave Gryffindor (which was arguably the reason why this mess existed in the first place), and that was why with ease Larkin unlocked her knees, picked up her head, and charged back out onto the main street.
“Stop!” she yelled, throwing her hands up into the air. The volleying of spells had begun, and to avoid getting hit, Larkin quickly ducked down to the ground. It seemed that no one had heard her. Pursing her lips together (she was
trying to offer herself
up here), she moved to pull out her wand but a long, cold, and bony hand wrapped around her wrist tightly before her fingers could even brush against it.
Him. Not the one she was most dreading, but certainly should be for the power he held. Even now, without his stately garb, the Royal Vizier of Jordan could not hide away his unappealing nature, general disdainfulness, and downright evil manner. He was tall, and thin, with dark hair that had immediately made Larkin think of sludge. His fingers curled tighter around her wrist as she looked at him with horror.
“Stop,” the man spoke clearly through his accent, raising his free hand lightly. An amused smile formed on his lips as he watched Larkin closely, never taking his eyes off her face. “You have heard the
ameera.”
Larkin’s eyes widened, for even with what Arabic she had obtained over the past year,
that word would be forever familiar. And, because of it, she began to twist wildly. “Let go of me!” she hissed, jerking unsuccessfully within his iron grasp.
Nicodemo had long since been Disarmed, but he didn't need his wand, he merely needed
a wand. After a very satisfying
crunch of his knuckles against one of the goons' face, he ripped the wand out of the staggering man's grasp, cracked his elbow soundly into the fellow's nose, and resumed dueling, not noticeably bothered by the supremely inferior instrument he now worked with. He wasn't sure, exactly, what he was caught up in the middle of, but if it wasn't the Petrovs, and it was bad enough to make Larkin run outright, he gathered it was quite bad.
Good. His lips turned up in a humourless smile as he zapped someone charging toward him. Ethan and he were managing just fine, but he and Whitby were going to be having words soon. A lot of words.
At Larkin's cry, however, his head snapped toward the sound. Feeling his blood, already heated from the rush of the fight, begin to boil beneath his skin, he tore away from two wizards he was grappling with. "Let go of her," he growled, surging toward Larkin and the man who had caught hold of her. He'd called her something, what was it? The language was unfamiliar to him, but it made Larkin's face more distressed and she squirmed unsuccessfully out of his grasp, making the boiling blood rush in Nicodemo's ears. He was running.
Steps away from them, just steps, he could feel obstacles stopping him, restraints tugging him back, but he fought against them distractedly, spitting mad. "Get your fucking hands
off her."
It was startling, how quickly his dueling instincts came roaring back. This was the first time he’d fired spells at another wizard since his accident, and the motions, the fluid movements he’d perfected over the many years of intense training, were as smooth as if he’d just stepped off the dueling strip. All sound but the whizzing and zap of the hexes seemed to be eliminated as he kept arms up with two assailants, pushing them back to where they had run from. Knocking one out swiftly into a wall, Ethan made to send the other soaring into an abandoned clothing stand. He was ready for the final strike when Larkin’s shout broke through his concentration, causing him to falter. He jerked his head back, fearing the worst, and was greeted with a purple bolt of a jinx to the gut.
Ethan stumbled forward, recognizing the
conjunctivitus curse immediately as his vision blurred. All he could see were the bare, fuzzy outlines of those around him, and though he threw up a shield to stall any other spells from connecting, the shout of
INCARCEROUS told him that he was a goner. The ropes wrapped around his chest and arms, tugging him forward. Ethan struggled, blinking furiously as he tried to straighten out his vision, and he was pushed down to his knees.
He shut his eyes tightly, and when he opened them his vision had adjusted nearly back to normal. In front of him was Larkin in the grasp of a man who exuded power. Ethan gaped, unable to struggle against his binds like his fellow curse-breaker was. Who
was this guy and what did he want with her? His robes were ornate and distinguished, and the man didn’t move from his spot beside Larkin, his grip on her looking painful.
“Take the ameera to the embassy,” he commanded, his deep voice booming over the now silent alleyway, “A princess should not be held like a common street rat.”
“A
princess---” Ethan yelped, capturing the leader’s gaze. He sneered, his eyes flickering between the two restrained men with vicious intent. Lips upturned, the leader sent a quick nod to someone Ethan couldn’t see.
“Take care of these other annoyances.”
Before Ethan could
blink, his head was covered by a thick fabric and he was pulled to the ground. He shouted in alarm, but his voice was drowned out as a wand pressed into his shoulder and sent an electric shock coursing throughout his entire body. With a groan, he lost consciousness, his last lucid thought being of how bloody pissed off he was going to be when he woke up.
Larkin felt feverish, and before she knew what was happening, Ethan had slumped to the ground. No, no, no, this was all wrong, she couldn’t let them get
taken care of! Her breath quickened, and she watched in fear as they approached Nico. Her eyes widened as she looked at him, her stomach shifting so violently it felt like she was going to hurl. This couldn’t--- this couldn’t---
“Enough!” she blurted, dragging her anchor along as much as she could as she struggled toward Nico. Her foot dug into the ground. “I
command you to stop!” Her voice rang in time to stop the wizard behind Nico from knocking him out, which eased Larkin greatly. She then turned violently on the vizier, speaking fiercely. “You shall not harm them!”
A sneer formed on the older man’s face, but it quickly disappeared to make room for an unsettling smile. “I am glad you are at last taking to your role, Ameera Larkin,” he replied smoothly, leaning forward as he spoke. His smile widened, and he pulled her close to whisper hotly in her ear.
“The prince patiently waits for your return. And return you shall. I have learned from our last encounters.” Larkin jerked back as he brushed a piece of hair out of her face, and with a smile, lightly pressed the tip of his wand to her ribcage. “You will not escape this time.”
This time. This time, because last time, in Egypt, when he had almost gotten her, she had escaped at the last second by--- knowing what was coming, Larkin began to fight against him again, but it was to no avail.
“No, no, n---” she let out, until he deftly knocked her unconscious with a quick flick. Larkin fell smoothly into the man’s arms, and then was quickly passed onto another to hold.
