Haldred Chronicles: Alyssa (11 page)

“Maybe she
didn't man handle him at all.  Maybe she got him to charge her and he brained
himself?”

Malak cast a
look around the alleys.  “He'd need a good run up though surely?”

He indicated by
looking up and down the lane.  “Lane's not wide enough for a proper run, and
neither are the alleys.  It would take a while for a lad that big to gain
speed.”

True
Victoria admitted to
herself, quietly impressed with Malak's deduction. 
Not enough room here. 
Whatever they did, it would have had to have been at close quarters.

Their statements
said the drunk had pulled Katy into an alley.  So one of these alleys was where
things took place.

“Malak, start
checking the alleys.”

“For what?”

“Signs of
struggle.”

Malak shook his
head but moved to comply  “You really think we'll find anything this long
afterwards?”

He was right, it
was a long shot but to Victoria's mind, worth a try.  With Malak moving to the
right, she moved to the left.

The first alley
was a definite no go.  It was stacked with wooden crates and they looked as if
they had been there for a while, their surfaces worn and damp.  The second
alley was no better, with wine barrels and long planks of wood haphazardly
placed around it.  Frozen cobwebs indicated none of the stuff had been
disturbed in a long time.

The third alley
though, looked more promising.  It was muddy like the rest but relatively clear
of anything that would get in the way.  There were plenty of footprints in the
mud but she saw various doors off to the left and right and suspected any
evidence from the ground on the night in question would been destroyed by now. 
Despite the head-through-wall idea not having much merit she checked the walls
regardless.

And found
something.

Hello

Several wooden
crates were stacked up by the entrance of the alleyway, just inside it.  At
just around head height one of the crate’s sides had caved in, the timber
broken inwards as if something heavy had impacted it.  Something roughly
circular.

“Malak, over
here.” she called.

He trotted over
and blinked when he saw the rather obvious impact point.

“Interesting.”
he mused.

“Put your head
in it.” she said.

“What?”

She nodded at
the cracked crate’s side.  “Your head's around the same width as the drunk's
skull.  See if you fit.”

Confusion was
again on his face but he knew better than to argue.  He moved in front of her
and steadied himself with his hands on the wall.  He set his forehead carefully
into the broken timbers.  He fitted convincingly, at least as far as Victoria
could see.

“We have our
knock-out blow.” she said.

“But how the
hell did they manage that?” Malak said, straightening up.  “She would have
needed the strength of ten men.”

“Two girls not
enough?” Victoria asked with a rare smile.

“Hardly,” he
snorted.  “I've knocked out men before.  You need a hell of a strength. 
Besides, it's easy to stop.”

“How you
figure?”

He held up his
hands, then, head down, he leaned his palms on the wall again.

“As long as I
put my hands out to stop you, you can't bash me.”

“But if we
immobilize his hands...” Victoria mused.

She checked the
report but there was no mention of the drunk's arms or hands.  No wounds or
bruising visible.

“How would you
have done it?” she asked again as she looked up.

Malak shrugged
again.  “Grab his arm, put it up his back, then wallop.  Down they go.”

She slipped the
reports into the inside pocket of her cloak and presented her arms.

“Show me.”

He gave her a
sideways look.

“Well show me
carefully, obviously.”

He carefully
took hold of one of her arms and motioned for her to turn round.  Slowly, with
deliberate care he pulled her arm up, so that it was held at an uncomfortable
angle up her spine.  She grimaced.

“You alright?”
he said, a touch nervous.  His breathing on the back of her neck was a little
laboured.

He's scared
of hurting me.  Good.

“I'm fine.” she
said reassuringly.  “Can't move the arm so that works.  Now what?”

“Well, I'd just
use my other hand and shove you forward.” 

“Ok.”

He paused.

“Ah...you sure?”

“Malak, hell’s
depths man, I thought you were a soldier!  Besides,” she teased.  “thought
you'd like having a woman at your mercy?”

That got him. 
He took the back of her head in the palm of his hand and pushed her forward. 
She flinched, her eyes involuntarily shutting.  When no impact registered, she
opened them to find Malak had stopped just as she was about to impact on the
wall beside the crates.

“Like that.” he
said, with a certain professional satisfaction in his voice.  “Real quick,
giving them no time to stop themselves with the one hand.  Best they could do
would be to cushion the blow with their free hand, but that would probably just
break a few fingers.”

He let go.  She
loosened her arm in its socket, letting the feeling return.

“So, she'd need
a lot of strength to both immobilize him
and
smack him into something. 
Technically, what they said is true.”  She pulled out the girls’ statements
again.

“Our problem is
we just don't know how an eighteen year old girl managed to do that to a guy
three times her weight and size.”

Malak looked at
the wrecked crate again.  “I've no idea.” he admitted.  “If she were any other
race, maybe dwarf, even some elves or fey.  But she's human.”

He looked to
find Victoria staring off into the distance.  He knew that look.  She was
thinking again.

“Aye.” Victoria
said presently.  “So she says.”

* * * * *

* * * * *

Alyssa had a
look of grave concern on her face.  Grave concern.  She and Katy exchanged
looks.

“That's the best
you could find?” Katy said with eyebrows raised.  Alyssa nodded solemnly.

Originally,
things had actually gone rather well. 

First, in her
wardrobe she had found a fine, dull-green skirt that was tight around her hips,
but not embarrassingly so.  It emphasised her figure but not to the degree that
she'd spend the whole night with her cheeks red. 

Then, she had
successfully broken into one of the local clothes shops shortly after closing
time, slipping in without knocking into too many things or otherwise alerting
people, and quickly heading over to the corsets section.  With her enhanced
night vision she had descended on a haphazard pile of corsets (the shop she'd
entered didn't seem to be the most organised of places) and grabbed one of
them.  It was only when she got home (after leaving a donation in the money
desk of the shop) that the colour, material and indeed function of the corset,
had become apparent under the lantern light.

The corset was
black, and made of leather and of a very particular style she'd not noticed
when she had hastily acquired it; a style that suggested that this corset was
not an undergarment.   The rather more sensible tunic Alyssa had chosen to go
with her skirt was now made redundant.

“There's just
something...wrong about it.” Katy concluded, casting 'it' another anxious look
and not liking the images being conjured up in her mind's eye.

“Well it's what
Gretna wants,” lamented Alyssa.  “And what Gretna wants, Gretna gets.”

Katy gave Alyssa
an expression that suggested she didn't think the design in front of them was
quite what Gretna was expecting.

“Then again,”
Katy said.  “maybe she'll not like it?”

Well, that was
true.  The thing looked hideous so maybe Gretna would think the whole idea was
a bad one and not insist she wear it again.  It was a small hope but a
comforting one.

“Suppose.”

“Right then,”
Katy's voice was heavy with resignation as she crossed the room to where the
corset lay on Alyssa's bed.  “Let's see what we can do.”

* *
* * *

“Ah Katy” said
Gretna.  “There you are.  Good to see you again.”

“Hello.” said
Katy.  It was a few hours later and Katy had just slipped shyly into the
kitchen from the outside, her eyes darting about.  Five other barmaids were in
the extensive kitchen all busy doing their jobs.  That was a few more than she
would have liked.

“You alright?”
asked Gretna, frowning up at the girl.

“Fine.” Katy
said immediately, but she continued to look rather distracted.  “Ah, it's
just...”

“Out with it
girl.” ordered Gretna, hands moving to hips in her trademark impatient
posture.  “I don't have time, we've a busy night ahead.  Militia are holding a
retirement party for one of their number so the place is going to be packed.”

Katy paled
visibly, and not for herself.  

“Oh.” she
managed. “Great.”

“Alyssa's
outside,” Katy went on.  “in a corset.”

Gretna's frown
changed from impatience to confusion.

“And?”

“Well, she'd
rather you inspected it...before anyone else does.”

Gretna's frown
remained but she nonetheless marched to the door and opened it, closely
followed by Katy.

Outside, she
found Alyssa, her eyes darting about like Katy's had before, with her grey
cloak pulled tightly round her.

“You can stop
doing that,” grunted the dwarf, her impatience increasing.  “What's the
matter?”

“Well,” began
Alyssa.  “I got a corset like you said.  It's just...it's...”

“For the love of
all Gods,” muttered Gretna,  “just show me!”

Alyssa
apprehensively opened her cloak and revealed what was underneath.

It took a long
few seconds for Gretna to reply after simply staring at what Alyssa was
wearing.  It took a lot to surprise a dwarf, especially Gretna, but she was
indeed surprised by the barely-legal spectacle before her.  She looked from
Alyssa's immensely embarrassed expression to Katy's wide eyes and then back to
Alyssa.

Gretna sighed. 
“Grograg’s name, when I said corset.” She began, massaging her forehead with
her thumb and index finger.  “I did not mean one of those...things!”

“Please tell me
you brought a change of clothes.” She said next, casting Alyssa a uniquely
dwarfen exasperated look.

Alyssa quelled
before the dwarf’s eyes, shaking her head slowly.

“Told you.” Said
Katy with her head in her hand, having suggested a change of clothes earlier.

“Can I go home
and change please?” Alyssa said pleadingly, taking Gretna's reaction as an
excuse to wrap up again.

“Course not,”
grunted the dwarf.  “You're on the clock and I can't spare you.  There's a
militia retirement do tonight, a lot of hungry men going to be about the
place!”

“Wouldn't that
be even more of a reason for her to change?” Katy interjected.  “After all,
that corset...kind of puts a lot on display.”

Alyssa flushed
and pulled her cloak tighter round her.

“We'll keep you
in the kitchens,” Gretna said after a moment's thought, tapping her chin “make
sure none of them see you.”

“In fact make
damn sure they don't see you.” Gretna went on, suddenly looking particularly
concerned.  “They'll think I'm running a brothel otherwise!”

“Thanks,” Alyssa
said with a heavy dose of sarcasm.  “that makes me feel so much better.”

Reluctantly they
went inside, Alyssa still keeping her cloak wrapped round her.

“Right you lot,”
bellowed Gretna at the girls in the kitchen.  All work immediately ceased at
her call, all eyes turning in her direction.

“Alyssa will be
working in here for the night.  For reasons that will shortly...” She cast a
look back at Alyssa who was already starting to go red again.  “...become
apparent.”

Gretna nudged
Alyssa and with much reluctance, Alyssa took off her cloak and hung it on the
cloak hook.

There was at
first a deathly silence, followed by collective gasps, stares and more than a
few open mouths.  Sarah promptly fainted.

“Alright, quit
it the lot of you!”  growled Gretna next, asserting her authority again.  “Get
back to work.”

Gretna started
barking orders

“Katy you'll
fill in for Alyssa on the tables.”

Katy nodded,
almost finding herself saluting before thinking better of it.

“Alyssa, you'll
take over at the vegetables from Sarah.”

“Ok.” said
Alyssa, hugging her chest as she side stepped to the counter, over the
unconscious body of Sarah.

“Carean, wake
Sarah up and make sure she does the floor.”

Gretna shook her
head, looking over at the unconscious form of the Elf.

“Hayley, make a
note in the ledger.  When staff are asked to wear corsets they shall be of the
traditional undergarment style.”

She looked
across at Alyssa and felt her eyebrows raising again.

“Lest we
encourage the wrong type of customer.” she concluded.

* * * * *

“Awfully
packed.”

Victoria didn't
liked what she was seeing.  What she saw, was a lot of militia round the front
of the Elk’s Horn tavern looking like they were at a party of some kind,
probably some lucky sod's retirement.  She'd rather not be going into that lot
and retrieving a crossbow from across a busy bar.

They had spent
the remainder of the afternoon checking in with the Archives section of the
Council of Peace in the Larrick City.  Fortunately the department was in the
same building as their office.  Unfortunately, getting any information from
Archives was difficult and time consuming.  After waiting more than an hour to
even see an archiver, they were told that the information they had requested
would take at least a day to retrieve as it was highly classified.  Anything to
do with vampires was; they were logged as 'definite threat to peace'.

It was odd to
have an entire race under that category, but history spoke volumes.  Any
references to vampires from the past few centuries had always been bad;
Massacres, rampages, wars.  True, such references had become less and less over
the years as vampires were hunted down and killed off, until only Igor Regorash
remained.  The vampires had always worked from the same motive.  One of pure,
undeniable evil.  When you look at it like that the classification was entirely
justified.

The specific
information Victoria had requested wasn't history though, but vampire
abilities.  Strength, skills, spells, anything unusual.  Anything that could be
categorised as super human.

The thing was,
she didn't believe Alyssa was a vampire.  She did however believe there was
something about the girl that warranted further investigation.  It was
too...convenient to simply label her
vampire
.  It wasn't the kind of
thing you just accused someone of or you might end up making an idiot of
yourself.  The worst scenario was people believing you and then you could end
up sending someone completely innocent to their death.

There were
aspects that didn't fit.

The girl was far
too shy and nervous.  True, it could be an act, but if it was, it was a damn
good one.  Victoria was veteran enough to have a certain sense for liars and
actors, (she'd met her fair share of them) and whilst she had her doubts about
Alyssa, the girl just didn't fit the stereotype Victoria had in her head. 
She'd expected even a vampire in hiding to be somehow...tougher.  More
forthright, perhaps, more alien.  Alyssa was none of these things.  It just
didn't seem right.

The plan had
been to be forearmed with the best information about vampires they could lay
their hands on, then start again and try and discover fresh suspects or leads. 
They were not to necessarily disregard Alyssa as a potential suspect.  Just go
looking for more.

Regardless of
the plan, Archives had other ideas.  Malak and Victoria had been told to come
back to the Archives the next day for the information.  It was a delay in her
investigation, but you couldn't expect everyone to work at her rate.  So,
seeing as nothing else could be gained, they had travelled to the Elk's Horn
again.    Now they stood beside their coach, looking at the crowds around the
building.

“We'll go round
the back and get it through the kitchen.” Victoria suggested.

Malak's
expression of expectation (at the return of his beloved crossbow) turned to
concern.

“The kitchen?”
he asked.

“Yes, the
kitchen Malak.”

There was a
pause.

“Where the food
comes from.”

He rolled his
eyes.  “I know that woman.  Just.  The kitchen?  The tavern’s kitchen?”

“What's the
problem?”

“Well it's
just,” he rubbed the back of his neck.  He seemed oddly nervous.

What the
hell's wrong with him now?

“It wouldn't be
right me entering.”

Victoria raised
her eyebrow in a confused manner.

“What do you
mean?  We'll go in, ask for the crossbow, job done.  Heck they'll probably just
hand it to us through the door.”

Plus there's
no danger.  It's not as if I'm going to inform Alyssa that I'm investigating
her.  That's if the girl's even here tonight.

Ignoring Malak's
looks of disquiet, she led him round the back, looking for the kitchen
entrance.  She soon found it, a sturdy looking oakwood door set into the side
of the tavern wall with a
staff only
sign hammered onto it above head
height.  There was a vision slit just below the sign.  Malak continued to look
uncomfortable.

“What's wrong
with you?” she demanded.  In certain situations, Victoria could be extremely
patient, but she had very little patience for situation as frivolous as this.

“It's a Tornar
thing.” he sheepishly admitted.  “Men don't enter tavern kitchens, it's a
respect thing.”

Or a sexist
thing
,
Victoria didn't reply. 
You like to keep your women in the kitchen. 
She
blatantly rolled her eyes.

“Fine, I'll get
it for you.”

She knocked on
the door

“But you owe
me.” she added.

 Presently the
vision slit slid across, revealing a pair of green eyes.  The background noise
of a busy kitchen was immediately apparent.  The eyes blinked with confusion.