Death's Reckoning (17 page)

A flash of annoyance crossed Unri’s face, and his features turned darker. Yuri put a restraining hand on his arm, and they spoke for a few moments in their own tongue. Their conversation was terse and heated. After they finished, Unri turned to Muldor and tried to smile, but it came across as a grim frown.

“Please, if you can, tell where is this police location?”

Muldor bowed. “Of course. Right this way.”

They walked towards the lay about group of gawkers, and Muldor pointed out George. “George, if you would be so kind as to escort these gentlemen to the police precinct, I would appreciate it. Master Unri, ask for Captain Cubbins, and I’m certain he will help you with your inquiries. Good day to you all.”

After a slight incline of his head, Muldor was off. George would fidget in front of the foreigners, but he would do the job. To hell with these men anyway. This would be a little revenge against the rude actions of Captain Cubbins. More trouble for him would make Muldor feel better about what happened in his office. Cubbins deserved nothing less.

Chapter Eleven

The pillows and sheets always felt softer and more inviting after sex. Madam Dreary knew she was spoiled by the rich silk under her back and around her body but decided long ago to run with it and not care. People got what they deserved, and she deserved this and more.

Her current client, an older man with a surprising libido, sat on the edge of the bed panting. His lust spent, and his body shuddered. Dreary ran a finger along his spine, and he shivered.

“A bit sensitive are we, dearie?” she said.

The man laughed, but it was strained and awkward. “Yes, yes. Always that way… after.” He took a deep breath and went to the table with the wash basin to refresh with warm water.

Madam Dreary lay on her back. Her toes curled, and her neck craning. She felt a few bones pop in release. Sometime later, a soft knock at the door sounded, and she stretched again and blinked. Her girls would not disturb her without good reason. “Come in, darlings. Come in.”

A girl named Marilyn entered. She was young and petite with curly blond hair. She wore a peach colored nightgown and stood in front of Dreary’s luxurious bed.

“Sorry to disturb you, Madam, but some of the girls are getting worried about our new charge, this young man.”

“Hmmm? Yes, Jon is his name.” She sat up. “Don’t you look adorable, Mary. I love this color on you, dear. Wonderful.”

“Jon hasn’t left his room since he got here.”

Madam dreary yawned. Annoyance flickered in her mind. She scratched behind one ear, a very unladylike habit her mother would disapprove of, and she waved the young girl away. “Scoot, girl. I’ll see to him. Perhaps all the boy needs is a spot of attention. Thank you.”

Madam Dreary tied a silk belt around her robe as she walked the hallways to Jon’s room. After knocking, there was a soft shuffling behind the walls as if the occupant was startled.

“Yes?”

“May I come in, love? It’s Madam Dreary, Jon.”

“Um, sure.”

The young man sat on his bed, staring like a frightened rabbit. She sat beside him and smiled. “Having some trouble, dear one? My girls are worried about you. They’d like to see a bit more of ye in the common area.”

Jon smiled but looked battered and tired. “Haven’t been feeling very sociable the last few days, I’m afraid. Sorry about that, Madam Dreary. I mean no offence. The girls are lovely and very nice. I appreciate you having me here.”

Madam Dreary smiled and put a gentle hand on his face. “How precious. I see why they like you so. There is no reason to apologize. Master Muldor has told me to give you the best possible service while you are our guest.”

“Oh, I am quite comfortable, thank you.” He shook his head and sighed. Her heart went out to him. “For the first time in my life, death has stalked me. I’ve never even been in a fight before I came to this city. My mortality has been made apparent. I don’t like it.”

She patted his thigh. “You are safe here, Jon. No one can hurt ye. I promise you that. Do you believe me?”

He looked her in the eyes and nodded. “Of course I do. I appreciate everything you and Muldor have done for me.”

“Good. I think it might be good for you to get out and walk around a little bit. Your body and mind will heal faster if you do.”

Jon agreed and made a pledge to leave his room more and get some exercise with the girls in the house. She stayed with him a few more minutes, and they spoke of other things, nicer subjects such as his family. It was heartening to hear of his political ties due to his brother’s position, and she surprised him by her knowledge of governments and history.

The madam left, feeling good about the visit knowing she had helped him a bit. She visited the common area and was pleased to see it busy already. A multitude of men and women drank together, laughed together, did business together.

A tall, well-dressed man with a wide black cape streaming down his shoulders socialized under a wide brimmed hat. It froze her feet to the floor. He was a phantom, a ghost, a specter come to destroy them all, but they spoke with him as if they were the oldest of friends bonded together for all time.

The man burned into her soul like the pulse of the blood through her veins. He locked gazes with her, and she was powerless to turn away. Madam Dreary felt faint as she walked to the table and sat down.

Malthus Benaire smiled as he sat beside her, and the world grew dark. “It is my great pleasure to be here with you, Madam. I see both the clientele and girls are in a joyous mood this evening. They are attractive and willing. How wonderful.”

“Yes,” she said in a dead voice, mind numb, “wonderful.”

His hidden eyes penetrated deep into every crevice of her mind. Her soul laid bare. She shivered, and her skin crawled around her bones.

“How interesting. You know, I could feel his great pain. He is a man unaccustomed to this type of physical torture, but he has strength enough to fight. How lovely. He has built up both physical and mental endurance in the past few weeks. He has great resilience but is tormented by it. Fantastic. And you care for him a great deal. He represents something special to you and to many here in this town.”

Had she possessed the willpower, she would have turned from his influence, but few humans could, and Madam Dreary was too susceptible to his charms. Being as he was in the guise of a man, she could not fight him.

“I will have him, this man close to you, the one you are guarding here with such jealousy.”

A heaving sob wracked her frame, and a terrible sadness overcame her mind.

“No,” she said as tears streaked down her face. “Please! You can’t have him.” Her voice was a strained whisper, but her volume didn’t matter. Nobody noticed her. There should’ve been men or girls coming to her aid, but none came.

“Now, now, my dear. There is no need to get excited.” Benaire chuckled, and she was torn apart. “I will have this Jon, and you will give him to me.”

Madam Dreary wept.

* * * * *

Giorgio sat alone at a table, a pariah among his people and outright shunned to the fringe of society. Other eyes in the room alighted toward him every so often. His eyes bore back into theirs until they blanched and glanced away.

The dog sat on its backside. Its devilish nature obvious to any that would bother to look, but it allowed them to interact in a limited way with the tavern dwellers. The animal’s baleful gaze swept back and forth across the room like a lighthouse beacon. It frightened even the heartiest man. They would think twice about approaching.

A serving girl took his drink order, looking scared when he told her straight whiskey. She had a bus boy deliver the drink. He held a broom in his other hand like a club. Giorgio sipped at his drink, tasting nothing. He went through the motions of a former mortal life. His forearms propped on the table. Veins stood out in stark relief like earth worms, the skin a ghastly pale grey like bleached paper. His hair was falling out in clumps. Pieces of bald skull showed through, and the rest a premature light grey. His eyes streaked with red as if a sickness invaded his skull.

Time passed, and the tavern denizens went about their business per normal. They did their best to ignore him, yet nervous glances came his way every so often. A group of five men arrived deeper into the night. They were dark, swarthy men dressed in black leather and stood by the bar. The dog shifted to them as they were obvious strangers, and although outsiders were known to frequent the tavern, they were exotic enough to stand out.

Giorgio watched them speak to the manager at the bar. They conversed for a few moments, and then the manager pointed over their shoulders in Giorgio’s direction. The men turned their gaze upon him.

They were grim faced, serious and professional men. They looked at Giorgio through the crowd. The dog growled as they came towards their table, plowing through the throng of people. Giorgio sat straighter, feeling a legitimate threat from their demeanor and stances.

They surrounded his table, and Giorgio bade the dog to stand down with his mental ability out of pure curiosity. The men studied him for a few moments. They were straight and strong, hands at their belts and their faces dark.

One of them, short but confident, spoke to another in a foreign language, and the others answered. One or two pointing to him and his dog. The animal grew agitated and barked. The shorter one grew curious and knelt down to study the dog better.

Giorgio steadied himself. He coiled his legs underneath his chair, sending a mental signal to the dog to be prepared to strike.

“You, please to come with us,” another man said, older. His black beard streaked with grey.

Giorgio regarded him, fingering a knife under his shirt. They had to notice, but he could’ve flicked it out and plant it in the man’s eye so fast it couldn’t be stopped.

“I’m not going anywhere,” he said.

“Please, I ask very nice. We must talk with you. No trouble.” His tone of voice softened, and his features grew sincere.

Giorgio rubbed the dog’s neck. For the first time in his life he could control the fate of others. It was intoxicating. They lived at his whim.

He went back to his drink, ignoring them. The older man frowned. His sun baked features tightened around the crow’s feet at the corners of his eyes. The shorter man bent his ear to him, and they spoke again. The three that didn’t talk were fierce looking men, with muscular builds and calloused hands. They did nothing but stare at Giorgio.

The two leaders came to an agreement fast because the older one nodded to Giorgio and indicated the table. “We to join you, please.”

Giorgio snickered. “Whatever makes you happy.”

Chairs scraped as the older man and the shorter one sat. The other three remained on their feet. An awkward moment of silence followed as the two men studied Giorgio with the attention of a surgeon peering at a wound.

“I am called Unri,” the older man said. “This my brother Yuri. You understand please we come to help. These men are cousins. We all to help you.”

Giorgio smirked and pulled out one of his daggers and plopped it hilt first down on the table. “What makes you think I need any help?”

The three cousins tensed and breathed in, ready to act, but Unri raised a hand. He said something quick in their language, and they relaxed. “We no come here to fight you. I see all before, all of us have.” He indicated Yuri and the others. “Our whole family killed by scourge. Taken by evil man. You contact with him. See it in you. We know what happen to you, can help you leave his thrall. Please to listen to me.”

“I don’t need your help. Doing fine right here. But you need to leave. Do it before someone gets hurt.”

The older man gave a slight nod. His face looked serious but sad. He barked a word in their foreign tongue, and the three men around the table exploded into action. As one act, the three cousins grabbed the edge of the table and heaved it over towards Giorgio. The two other men scattered to the side at the same time.

The table came down, but Giorgio wasn’t there. Instead, he was off to the side, already moving, already throwing a dagger. There was a satisfying grunt of pain after his first throw. The dog bit and gnashed at one of the men while another came straight for Giorgio.

He brought up another dagger, but the shorter man was faster than appeared, and he came at him while Unri circled behind him. They had their swords drawn. Giorgio could tell they were well trained with heavy experience. They were unconcerned with the instant chaos of battle.

Shouts and screams of confusion erupted within the tavern, and though it wasn’t uncommon for a fight to break out, everyone there knew this was different. Several bouncers came to them, and all of a sudden Giorgio was outmatched, even with the dog and his new abilities.

But his assailants focused on him and him alone. Two of the cousins kicked three bouncers away from their circle with hard, coordinated blows. It sent the men reeling in pain.

The dog snapped at the other cousin, but that still left Giorgio facing Yuri in front of him while Unri moved around the back. The two cousins handling the crowd had them cowed in the blink of an eye, and both came straight for Giorgio. He was running out of space and options.

One of them might’ve been a match for him alone, but with four of them working as a well-practiced team it was futile. They carried their curved swords with practiced calm. There was no way to win this way. There was only one choice.

Turning on his heels and calling the dog to him at the same time, Giorgio made a quick slash through the crowd and headed for the closest window. His assailants yelled. He shoved people behind him, hoping to buy himself some time. He threw up his arms smashing into glass and wood, tumbling into the alley and springing to his feet.

The dog turned around to bark at the tavern’s innards, but Giorgio called it off. Together they raced down the alley at a dead sprint.

* * * * *

Jerrod hated boats. The irony of the situation was not lost to him, considering he decided to live in a sea side city. Larger boats weren’t too bad. At least there was room to stretch one’s legs and move around. He and Zandor occupied a twelve foot skiff, which wasn’t much of a ship at all. More like a big piece of wood that happened to float enough to carry two men.