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It was something of a fluke that Magnus heard the noise at all. It was a grating thing, but not so loud that his headphones wouldn’t have blocked it out. If they’d been on, that was. But he’d been adjusting them when the noise came from the door. Not a scratching sound as one might think. Or even a squeaking sound. No, the sound that Daniil Dubov’s rat made was something close to a scream.
But the rat wasn’t alone when Magnus opened the door. Instead it was Anish Giri’s lithe and beautiful clouded leopard that sat outside, holding the still wriggling rat in her mouth. She brushed past him with an easy silent grace, pressing up against Magnus’ leg as she did, and padding into Magnus’ hotel room.
It took a moment for Magnus to properly compute what had just happened. Anish’s daemon had showed up to his hotel room. With Daniil Dubov’s rat. Looking like she was planning on murdering said rat, though daemons were notoriously almost impossible to kill without killing their human. Then again, Anish Giri could be a determined foe at times. And while Magnus rather doubted that Olga had taken a bite - or several - out of Dubov himself when she had taken his rat, he knew better than most that something dark lurked beneath the surface of Anish’s innocent looking daemon.
When Magnus’ body finally catches up with his mind he does manage to close the door and turn around. Olga was halfway into the room, and she’d turned toward where Fenrir was lounging. Magnus’ own daemon looked like he was still more asleep than awake, while Olga seemed the very picture of a housecat that wanted to show off her hunting skills to her master by offering him an unfortunate small creature.
Fenrir wakes slowly, so Magnus does manage to snap a picture of Olga with the rat and send it to the group chat. As much as Anish Giri is more often the butt of jokes in that particular group chat, Daniil has a tendency to think he’s worth more than he is. So he rather deserves what’s coming to him.
Magnus’ phone starts buzzing with responses at just about the same time that the rat manages to scream again despite being rather firmly placed in Olga’s jaws. She clawed at it a bit, but could only do so much with the rat being where it was. So she dropped it, but before the rat could right itself or scurry off she whacked it repeatedly with her paw until it was only twitching, then picked it back up in her mouth.
The commotion had evidently woken Fenrir the rest of the way up, and now Magnus’ daemon’s eyes were resting heavily upon the clouded leopard and her offering to him. He didn’t have to wait for long before Olga dropped the rat once more and nudged it closer to the great panther, keeping a respectful distance as she did. For all Anish wasn’t always the most deferential, his daemon was more careful. Then again, Fenrir had given her good reason to be.
But for now his attention seems to be taken up by the rat, and he follows her lead and smacks it with his paw a few times before batting it back to Olga like the two cats were playing some perverse game of football. One that Fenrir was certainly enjoying. For all he liked to stalk Olga through tournament halls at times, now he seemed perfectly happy to be her accomplice in the torment of Dubov’s daemon.
Properly, Magnus should at least try to break up the game - letting one’s daemon torment other daemons was frowned upon - but it’s Dubov’s rat. No doubt both Dubov and the rat had done something to deserve it.
And Olga might not be Fenrir’s size, but Magnus had felt first hand just how sharp her claws could be. Not to mention he’d listened attentively as Anish boasted that his daemon was practically a miniature sabertoothed tiger in one of his interviews. So for all Anish’s daemon was the sort that could pretend to be a housecat, she most certainly wasn’t a housecat. She was a dangerous daemon, so Magnus was under no obligation to make any attempt to save the rat. Add to that Fenrir was enjoying himself, and he was not the sort that liked it when his toys were taken away.
Or when his playmates hid from him under the chairs of their masters during tournaments, but evidently he’d decided that he didn’t want to hold that particular grudge against Olga for the moment. He’d probably remember it after she left. Magnus’ daemon could be rather more single minded than he liked to admit.
Magnus isn’t sure exactly what changes to end the game of football, but evidently Olga had decided that it was over, because instead of batting the rat back to Fenrir she padded the rest of the way over to him, brushing her cheek against his at first before pressing along his side, purring as she did. Fenrir for his part was quick to chuff back, and soon the cats were circling each other in something that resembled a dance. One that was fluid and graceful and gave no indicators whatsoever at the rather brutal pastime the cats had been engaged in only moments prior.
If Magnus weren’t annoyed at the way his own daemon was acting like a lovesick idiot than he might have taken another picture to memorialize the fact that Anish’s daemon was practically throwing herself at Fenrir, but as it is his phone buzzes once more, and he opens the group chat.
The replies are mostly predictable. Laughing emojis. A few bad jokes about Dubov’s daemon perhaps getting amorous with a daemon that was way out of his league. Or else picking a fight with a daemon that was significantly above its weight class. Nothing from Dubov, though. Which could well mean that he’d be knocking on Magnus’ door in only a few moments. Or it could be that Daniil was drunk and dancing at a nightclub. In which case he probably wouldn't even read his messages until noon.
Peter also didn’t seem to have anything to say, though Magnus knew his coach well enough to know that his coach was on his phone just a little too often, and there was no way that the man had not been either the first or the second to see the original picture that Magnus had sent. Magnus gave a little snort. Perhaps the picture hit just a little too close for Peter. His hen was still giving Fenrir a rather wide berth, even when Fenrir was napping and dead to the world.
Magnus glanced up to see that the daemons had settled from their dance of sorts into a pile. Which was mostly that Fenrir had curled up around Olga. Magnus’ daemon was softly chuffing while Anish’s daemon purred in response. They both seemed totally oblivious to the rat that was still a meter or so away, twitching in the middle of the floor.
Magnus didn’t claim to be any great scholar of daemons, but he was pretty sure there was a good deal of rat blood on the carpet. And that if the rat hadn’t been a daemon it would be dead a hundred times over simply from the football game, not to mention whatever Olga had done to catch it in the first place. So even if Daniil didn’t show up anytime soon to reclaim his daemon the rat probably wouldn't be going anywhere.
Fenrir gave a particularly loud chuff and Magnus’ attention snapped back to the cats. They matched well despite the fact that Fenrir made Olga look more like a cub than a proper cat. Then again, Olga so often looked like an innocent little cub next to the other cats. It was part of her innocent act. But then when one’s back was turned she became a monster. Knocking over water bottles. Starting fights between some of the more temperamental daemons in a way that made Magnus think she just wanted to watch the fallout. And leading Fenrir on in a way that had led to Magnus’ daemon sitting dejectedly next to Anish Giri’s chair for an entire round at Wijk aan Zee once. And to add insult to injury, Magnus had lost that particular round.
But things hadn’t always been this way. Olga hadn’t been a clouded leopard when Magnus had met her. She’s been unsettled, as befitting the gangly boy Anish had been at the time. But on that occasion, she’d been a black panther. One that had been a good deal smaller than Fenrir, but still unmistakably a black panther.
It had been the first time Magnus had seen a young chess player’s daemon mimic his own that way. He was more used to it now, but there had been something unnerving about it that first time. When Magnus had been young Fenrir had dabbled with being a lion - just like Garry’s lion - before settling on a panther. So he’d known exactly what the faintly flickering panther that followed the boy Anish Giri had been around meant. It meant that just as Magnus tended toward hero worship of Garry, Anish Giri - only four years Magnus’ junior - tended toward some sort of hero worship of Magnus. Which had been unnerving to think about at the time.
Magnus had lost that first game in no small part because he’d been so distracted by the two panthers. They hadn’t been openly flirting as they were now, but they’d spent most of that first game so long ago circling each other curiously.
It had been a relief, then, when Anish Giri had grown out of that bit of hero worship and his daemon had settled on another creature. Magnus had personally thought Anish would end up with a little shrike of a songbird worthy of his tweets, but he could see Anish mirrored in the clouded leopard as well. An innocent looking little hunter, but one that was every bit as much of a hunter as Fenrir.
The knock that comes at the door is three raps. Not Dubov, then. Dubov would more punch the door than anything else, especially given that Magnus had texted the whole group chat instead of just Daniil.
Magnus finds himself blinking with surprise when he sees Anish outside the door after opening it. He hadn’t told Anish. How had Anish found out?
As Anish gave Magnus a little nod and stepped past him into the room, the answer came to Magnus. Jorden. Anish did so like to call him a traitor, and perhaps it made sense for him to be a traitor so many times over. He’d sent a laughing emoji, though he hadn’t tried to crack a joke. And presumably he’d sent the photo on to Anish. Who was responsible enough to come and retrieve his daemon, unlike a certain Russian Grandmaster.
“Olga.” Anish’s daemon hissed at first when Anish tried to call her, but as Anish’s hands went to his hips and his head tilted slightly to the side, she extracted herself from where she had been curled with Fenrir and reluctantly padded over to Anish. It reminded Magnus altogether of a parent summoning a recalcitrant child.
But once she had reached Anish’s feet and sat there, looking up at him, Anish subtly tapped his thigh.
Olga didn’t need a second invitation, and she was springing into his arms a moment later. Somewhat surprisingly given that he was a twig, Anish caught her. Part of Magnus was altogether jealous - Fenrir was much too large for Magnus to ever carry in such a way.
And knowing Fenrir, now that he’d seen Olga leap into Anish’s arms, Fenrir would probably try to leap into Magnus’ arms. So sometimes in the near future Magnus supposed he could look forward to his daemon bowling him over at an awkward moment.
Anish paused beside Magnus, giving a little nod of his head as he did. One that said ‘we will never speak of this again.’
Which Magnus supposed he could agree with. Olga gave a soft little sound, and her eyes looked even more innocent. Like she really was a cub and not a well trained mini murder tiger.
It probably was unwise of Magnus to reach out - he knew better than most that Olga didn’t give warnings most of the time, she just got her claws out. But on this occasion she gently pressed her cheek against Magnus’ hand for a moment and gave a soft purr.
Anish looked entirely scandalized, and before Magnus could so much as crack a joke at the Dutchman’s expense he practically bolted from the room, together with his daemon. Which left Magnus with a bereft and mopey Fenrir. One that probably wouldn’t let Magnus sleep now. And the rat, still twitching in the middle of the floor.
Magnus opened his phone again. DMs, this time. If Daniil wasn’t here in five minutes then Magnus was going to throw the rodent on the floor off the balcony.