226. Friend for Sale (I)

Heather hung around her neck. She didn’t let go until Snow pulled her off.

“Hello, best friend.” Snow chuckled, looking at her friend happily.

“Hello, evil bastard!” Heather lightly punched Snow again. She then laughed. “I’m so glad that you are back. You don’t understand what I had to suffer through to pretend to be you. It was god awful.”

“Was it that bad?”

“Yes.”

“Oh, really.” Snow crossed her arm in front of her. “Well, it's you. You know me too well to know what it's like to live my day-to-day life.”

“Yep, I never want to do that again. I thought the fake skin would become my own skin.”

“Right….you’re exaggerating.”

“I know.” Heather smugly smiled. “I’m glad you’re back, Snow.”

“Me too.”

The two of them lightly laughed among each other and spoke a bit longer. Until finally, Mr. Rogers coughed to break their happy reunion.

“As much as I am happy for your reunion, we have a few things that need our attention.”

Snow turned around, wondering what else Mr. Rogers was going to say.

“We need to get the Church under control. After that spill out with Dairen, White Phoenix will be under fire.”

“Yes, that is correct.”

“Which in itself isn’t a good thing for your guild and their allies.”

“So, are you suggesting we break our ties with you?” Snow carefully answered. Her voice was slightly strained. She should have known that Mr. Rogers was more in it for profit. He wasn’t the type to move without a good reason.

“Absolutely not.” Mr. Rogers said with a big smile. He had a mischievous look on his face as he straightened up. “From this day forward, the house of Drazkonzel will be the Saintess’ close ally.”

“Why?” Snow blurted out. Why did he suddenly want to move closer to her and offer up his service? Vampires were notorious for being selfish and secluded, but Mr. Rogers threw that out the window altogether. “There is no benefit for you in this.”

“Who said there isn’t?”

“What else were you thinking of?”

Mr. Rogers didn’t answer. He shrugged. “That is not of any importance. My kind will help with the search of Dairen and the possible fight against the Church.”

“We aren’t going to war.” Snow quickly said she had hoped this was not true. Going to war against the people when they have so much trouble with the dungeon was a terrible idea.

“We don’t know that, Ms. Snow. Things can change on the dime. We must be ready for when it happens.”

“I’ll make an effort that it doesn’t.” Snow quickly said. She hoped such a future never came.

Mr. Rogers nodded. “Now, I must go. Please send me some of your blood at the residence. I’ll take my leave.” He bowed and went out, leaving them all alone.

“Wait, what is he talking about, your blood?” Mike asked, turning toward her.

Unauthorized duplication: this tale has been taken without consent. Report sightings.

“A debt that needs to be paid back.”

“Your blood was the price?”

“Yes.”

Mike was silent. He couldn’t say anymore but nodded his head at her with understanding. They left the room in silence.

*****

Snow woke up early in the morning to go through a few things that she needed to do before heading out. The list of things that needed her immediate attention slammed her for the past few days, completely overworking her through the night.

Heather did a fantastic job of keeping everything in check, allowing Snow to transition through the notes without much trouble. There were a few things Heather couldn't touch upon as she didn’t know the exact decisions that Snow would make.

For a few days, they couldn’t find either Dairen or get a reply from the Pope because of the tight security that had happened recently. It took another three more days for the person to appear to give Snow a notice that the Pope would like to hear from them. Followed quickly behind that was a message from Dairen not to look for him.

Things went over smoothly as the clock hit 4:20 pm for Snow’s dedicated time to meet the Pope. She calmly walked to her own car that she had bought. It was a simple, sleek blue sports car. It wasn’t terribly expensive, but it was a step above her old car that she had kept with her for a long time. Her last one was totaled when the outbreaks happened.

It didn’t take long for her to arrive in front of the building. To come back here again made her a bit worried, but she didn’t look entirely like the fake persona that she was under during that time.

Now, with her white hair and gold eyes, she looked completely different. Almost everyone who saw her recognized her face. Snow stepped out of her car in front of the building as a valet ran up to her.

“Saintess!” The young valet called out in surprise when he saw her step out. Quickly, he changed his demeanor, gently bowing. “We were expecting you.”

Snow reached over and handed him the keys.

“The Pope is expecting you on the seventh floor.”

“Understood. Thanks.” Snow walked past him.

“Saintess!” The valet called after her.

Snow stopped, looking over her shoulders, wondering why he had called her.

“Could you sign….” The Valley was quickly looking for something in his pocket and the black jacket that he was wearing. He eventually pulled out a handkerchief and a black pen that he kept in his front pocket. “My handkerchief for me?” He asked with a shy expression.

Stupefied, she temporarily froze for a moment. Then she nodded, walking over. She grabbed the pen and the handkerchief and scribbled her name quickly. Giving it back, the Valley squealed in delight as he repetitively bowed and thanked her.

Snow headed straight into the building.

The moment she stepped inside, she could hear the constant whispers of the people, who stopped to look over. They were all excited at her appearance. Many of them followed her as if she was some kind of shepherd leading a flock of sheep.

Snow didn’t pay any attention. A few people came up to her to direct her toward her destination. She didn’t need their help, but she knew that she couldn’t act like she knew her way around.

It took a bit longer than she expected to get to where she needed to go as they talked about everything, which she returned their questions. There was a brief moment when she thought she had seen a few that she knew, but they disappeared out of her sight just as quickly as they appeared.

Eventually, they made it to the seventh floor, where the Pope was waiting with a handful of others. She entered confidently.

“Welcome, Ms. Snow.” The Pope's deep voice spoke out. He had his hand crossed in front of him, staring at her with curiosity. There was a heavy air around him that Snow couldn’t quite figure out.

The Pope’s sharp gaze looked at her up and down until she finally spoke again. “Take a seat.”

Snow went to the exact opposite side of the Pope. She gracefully sat down and sat up straight, matching his intensity.

“I am glad to see that you are here on my request.”

“What exactly are you looking for or asking me about?”

“Dairen.”

“What about him?”

“I would like you to give him up.”

“Why do you think I have him near me?” Snow was confused. She wasn’t even able to contact him or find him.

“Because I heard you are his lover.”

Snow went silent. They weren’t lovers. She was interested in Darien, but the next level didn’t happen any time soon. Was she waiting for him to ask? No. She had too many things to do in this life to figure out how to mesh relationships together. The world was being invaded by multiple dungeons, and keeping the Players, Hunters, and the Native in harmony was not an easy job to do.

Her main job in Dragon Express always required her to balance between the three, giving her headaches.

“We aren’t lovers.” Snow quickly injected. “But, he is someone I care about.”

The Pope was contemplating what she had said.

“Then you wouldn’t mind giving him up.”

“Did you not understand what I said the first time?”

“I did, but he isn’t your lover.”

“What does that have to do with giving up a good friend?” Snow was appalled at what the Pope was asking of her.

“Then what if I give you a few artifacts for his information?”

“I’m not going to throw any of my friends under the bus!” Snow’s voice went up an octave, greatly offended by how persistent the Pope was asked to give up her friend for a couple of artifacts.

“Do not worry, we will take good care of him.”

Snow slammed her hand onto the table. She glared at him. “My friend is not for sale.” She was seething in anger. Her fist was clenching and unclenching.