Vengeance Koshka had in spades, if not against Puck, then people who deserved it. She sought out people in need of succor for their rage and grief, whispering her name into their ears or leaving them something akin to a calling card so that they could invoke her, as the ancient laws of magic dictated. Coming to them in her demonic form and outright offering them vengeance – or whatever a magical being's provenance was – was breaking that law, but like Puck, she could work her way through the loopholes of the laws that bound magical folk.
A thirteen-year-old Thai girl, sold into prostitution by her father, had her vengeance against the men who imprisoned her, abused her, and rented her out to others for further abuse.
In Mexico near the border, a man who had lost his wife and several other family members in the crossfire of a war between rival drug lords left a swath of destruction behind him that so horrified the remaining drug lords in the area that they quickly saw the wisdom of moving their enterprises elsewhere.
A Japanese housewife whose successful, hard-working husband was murdered by Yakuza hired by his jealous brother, and who had endured threats against herself and her children by said brother-in-law, now no longer had to worry about her brother-in-law – or the rest of the men who had been involved in her husband's murder, in fact.
A father in Africa whose albino daughter had been attacked, her forearm amputated by black-market poachers, reaped the arms and legs of the ones responsible for his child's mutilation.
After several days of granting people an outlet to avenge their pain, she felt much better. She had spent herself in making the world a bit of a better place, and felt the cool shingles of the roof under her back as she stared up at the stars, listening to a distant scream. It was a relatively warm night here in Istanbul, and the scream mingled with the noise from nearby streets where cars sped around at this late hour.
The gecekondu bölgesi – essentially one of the slums of the largest city in Turkey – attracted refugees and poor folks alike, and unemployment furthered the desperate situations that often could – and did – exist. Crime was a natural consequence, and naturally there would be victims looking for redress. The siren of an ambulance cut through the general din that made up the noises of the slum. The smell of petrol, garbage, and cooking rode through the night air on an occasional breeze, and Koshka let out a slow breath.
The high of vengeance led to a crash, and though she knew it was time, it didn't make actually sitting down and thinking about Malcolm/Puck any easier. He was a man she had been prepared to share her life with, and finding out that the man she loved was the imp she'd had an on-and-off crush for centuries... well, she was certain that would fall in the category of a mind-fuck.
What was she supposed to do now? Simply forgive the imp for his deception – which he obviously hoped for – or shut him out of her life entirely? As angry as she was with him – justifiably so – she did not relish that idea. As much as she tried, she couldn't forget Puck's mournful, regretful expression. Knowing he was honestly sad about how he had hurt her annoyed her, because it would have been a lot easier to nurse the desire to rip his head off if this had simply been a game to him.
A year she had been with him. And a happy year it had been. Even though there had been certain aspects of herself she didn't share with Malcolm, she still had trusted him more than she'd trusted anybody else. If she believed in the whole idea of soul mates, she would have said he was the one.
"Damnit," she muttered to herself before pulling her smartphone out of her jacket. She'd barely glanced at it over the last few days, ignoring emails and messages from clients and acquaintances. A quick perusal of her inbox showed nothing had been sent from Malcolm's number. But then, as goofy as he could be, Puck was at least intelligent enough to know better than to try and contact her when she was so angry. That was definitely a point in his favor. A very small point, but a point nonetheless.
Spent from the wishes she'd granted over the last few days, she had no inclination to send the imp a message via magical means. Fortunately, in this day and age, she could contact him instantaneously by conventional means. Tapping the screen, she highlighted Malcolm's number, and her finger tapped the screen again in quick succession as she typed out a message.
'We need to talk'
She hit Send and sighed, resting the phone on her chest. Would he have the phone on him at that moment, or would he have set it aside for a time? She leaned her head back, staring at the night sky.
She startled as the phone buzzed against her chest. She lifted it, glancing at the screen. It was from him.
'Choose the time and place' was his simple reply.
'Here and now'
After several moments, she felt the buzz in the air as Puck teleported, shifting reality about a bit as he moved from nearly the other side of the world in two steps.
He was garbed in his usual rustic old fashion, although it looked like he had dressed up for her. His tunic was white silk, and his pants were dark green velvet, loose enough to be comfortable, but snug enough to outline his thighs and offer viewers a subtle hint to his endowment. She felt her heart skip a beat as she regarded him, and her head swam for a moment before she focused on him.
Before he could greet her, another siren cut through the air, and Puck glanced towards it casually as he sat near her on the roof, just out of reach.
Returning his attention to her, she saw a mixture of warmth, concern, and apprehension in his open gaze.
"Hello, Venjanca. I see you've been busy," he said softly. "I saw that article a couple of days ago about the Japanese woman, in a newspaper. And on TV, that father in Africa. And really nice job in Mexico. This one will make it to the media soon enough. Ah, the wonders of technology." He pulled Malcolm's smartphone from inside his shirt.
"How times have changed," she replied dryly. "I figured it was best to deal with my anger in a more productive way. And I made the world a bit of a better place. In my own unique way, of course."
"People say revenge's a bitch, but I know personally she can be a total sweetheart." He batted her eyes at her, and she had to fight back a smile. Quickly, she schooled her face into a frown.
"Before we go any further, there is one thing I must know," she stated. Puck's expression hardened slightly into a serious cant, and the eye-batting was replaced with a steady gaze before he nodded.
"Did you enjoy the things we did together as mundane folk? Or was that all a ploy to get close to me?"
He tapped his chin lightly. "I lied to you for long enough, and I'm not going to any more. Some of the museums we've been to could be boring, but I was much more focused on you. Yes, sometimes I felt stifled by having to be Malcolm, but that was more about deciding on a more... Malcolm-ish response or action than where we were or what we were doing. There was nothing we did that I had to force myself to do. I enjoyed being with you, and doing things we had a mutual interest in, or showing one another new things. Frankly, being with you has been incredible and while Malcolm may have been a disguise, everything else has been the truth."
She felt her lips quirking up in a small smile. "I'm impressed you pulled Malcolm off so well. All that neatness and OCD..."
Puck snorted at that. "It was a meticulous construct. Took me over a month to build the physical form. And it gave me time to think about what you said about me being silly and irresponsible and so I focused on just... aiming for the total opposite."
"Total opposite? That would have made Malcolm a shitty dancer," she reminded him.
