Thief: A Fantasy Hardboiled (Ratcatchers Book 2) (22 page)

“Where is Violet?”

The count lit a cigar, sat back in the velvet upholstered chair and crossed his legs. He smoothed his blonde mustache with one hand after taking a drag on the cigar. The flames from the back of the building were not yet visible, but smoke seeped in from under the doors.

Miss Elowen coughed, and spat up blood.

“Heden’s got her,” she said. She tried to get comfortable, but the leather straps holding her to the chair prevented much movement.

The count raised his eyebrows and looked at Garth.

“The priest,” Garth said from his position behind Miss Elowen.

“Right,” the count said, nodding.

“She was with Heden,” Garth explained. “She’s not now.”

“Where is Violet?” the count asked again in exactly the same sing-song voice he used the first time.

“I don’t know,” Miss Elowen said.

The count took a drag on his cigar.

“Where is Violet?” he asked again, this time smiling.

“I did what you asked,” Elowen said. “You wanted Violet gone, I took care of it. I waited until she had a fit, I went and got the church, and they took her away. They said the exorcism would kill her. That’s what you wanted, right? That’s the last I saw of her. She’s nothing to do with me now, go ask the church.”

Garth looked at the count expectantly. Not only did Elowen do what the count asked, she did what the count wanted, which was harder. Making sure people died when they needed to with no direct connection to the master of the guild was not easy. Garth knew this better than anyone.

As though reciting from a prepared script, which for all Garth knew he was, the count continued as though Elowen hadn’t said anything.

“We are currently without a wizard,” the count said, “so alas we have no access to the
Aduro Vera
. But!” he said, flourishing his cigar, “I think a more common fire may urge you to tell the truth.

“I am telling the truth,” Elowen said. Garth held his tongue. Talking would just make it worse for her.

“Well, that’s the benefit of the wizard’s fire. It removes all doubt.  Forgive me,” the count said with a little bow from his seated position. “I don’t mean to say I doubt you, I don’t really. It’s just that I’m not certain and, also, I enjoy the idea of burning down the only thing you’ve ever cared about,” he gestured to the Rose Petal. It was very warm now. They could hear screaming upstairs.

Garth took a deep breath, but held his tongue. Miss Elowen and the Rose Petal had been a useful front, an easy way to scrub their income clean, a font of information.  The count was getting reckless thanks to his newfound power, and he knew it, and he didn’t care if Garth knew it and bringing it up would just cause this woman more pain.

“I’m in a position now, you understand, to indulge myself,” the count continued. “Also, I wanted Garth here to witness the fact that I did not rape you, in spite of the fact that many in the guild assumed I would.”

Elowen shrugged. Her years of refusing the count were going to catch up to her someday, she knew, and this was a better end than many she’d imagined.
At least
, she though
, Bann got the girls out
. It never occurred to the count that Elowen might not care about the building, only the girls.

“What is it about her?” Elowen wondered. “I gave you a dozen girls, you don’t care about any of them, you never cared about Violet. What is it about her? What does she have over…,” Elowen’s eyes narrowed. “What does she
know
?” Elowen asked, one corner of her mouth curling with a knowing smile.

The count took a drag on his cigar again. Theater. Then repeated, “Where is Violet?”

Elowen sniffed again, blood from her nose flooded into her mouth. She spat it out, one huge bolus of snot and spit colored almost black with blood smacked into the count’s right eyebrow, spattering all over his face.

The count surged to his feet with a snarl. Stood over Elowen seething.

Garth suppressed a grin.
She won
, he thought. In the decade-long contest between Elowen and the count to see which could finally provoke the other to anger, Elowen had the last word. Garth regretted she had to die.

The count produced a kerchief to wipe his face. Once used, he threw it to the ground and produced a dagger. Pressed it against her cheek, drew a little blood. Elowen didn’t flinch.

“I could ruin your face,” the count said, “but what would be the point. It will be a melted pile of boiling fat in a few moments anyway.”

He turned, strode to the table next to his chair, picked up his drink, tossed it onto the expensive, imported tapestry, and lit it with his cigar, then dropped the cigar, turned, and walked out.

“Come on,” he said to Garth as he walked past.

Garth and the count stood on the street while the Rose Petal burned, lighting up the night sky.

“That felt very good,” the count said, smoothing his hair back. “She always thought she’d get the best of me. Stupid bitch.”

She did get the best of you
, Garth thought.
Wasn’t difficult
.

He thought about what Elowen had said. About why the count had his horn up so bad for the girl. There was something there.

She was smarter than the count. Smart enough to have thought ahead.

“Come,” the count said. “We must away. It’s still early for us to be seen outside.”

Garth hesitated. The count frowned.

“I need to check on something,” Garth said, and walked back up to the door of the burning Rose.

He opened the door. Miss Elowen was standing, rubbing her wrists. Coughing in the smoke. Next to her, the explanation for how she got free.

Bann. The seven foot tall war breed stood, unflinching, facing Garth. He pressed Miss Elowen behind him, and she ran. Back through the flames. There’d be a window, a door she could exit through.

Garth turned to the count. “You go back,” he said, raising his voice above the sound of flames. From the street, the count could not see that Miss Elowen was escaping. “I’m going to make sure the job is done.”

The count bowed sharply. “Very well,” he said, and walked away crisply, his cloak flowing.

Garth entered the room with Bann. It was like the inside of an oven. The rear wall was on fire. Soon the whole room would be on fire, like the upstairs, and then the building would collapse on them.

Bann didn’t run. He was buying time for Miss Elowen.

“This is stupid,” Garth said.

“As stupid as burning the building?” Bann growled. “As stupid as slicing up Miss Elowen, who never did nothin’ but what the count asked?”

Garth gritted his teeth, in tacit agreement with the war-breed.

“Why waste your life too?”

Bann grunted. “Not a waste if Miss Elowen gets away.”

Garth looked through flames. There was nowhere she could run to that he couldn’t follow. But maybe he didn’t have to.

“Alright,” Garth nodded, “your life for hers.”

Bann relaxed a little. His death would not be in vain.

He drew his massive two-hander. Garth drew
Apostate
.

The contest was short. Bann took one roundhouse swing. Garth stepped neatly back. Bann swung overhand, Garth stepped to the side. The massive broadsword slammed into the floorboard, buckling them. A blow that would have split Garth in two, if it had landed.

Bann feinted, swinging his broadsword in one hand. When Garth leaned out of the way, Bann grabbed him with the other hand.

Bann sneered. His yellow eyes sparking in the fire. His white teeth and tusks practically glowing against his black skin. He’d been able to give Garth a surprise.

But Garth didn’t mind surprises. Once grabbed, he let Bann pull him closer and while the war breed opened his mouth to tear at Garth’s head and shoulders with teeth and needle-sharp fangs, Garth simply stabbed him. Once. Through the heart. With
Apostate
.

Bann froze, sucked a final breath in. Dropped his sword, put a hand on the blade in his heart. He looked down in confusion at Garth.

His legs buckled. Garth didn’t have the strength to hold him up on the sword, and so let him drop, pulling
Apostate
from the war breed’s chest.

“Sorry, Bann,” Garth said to the gurgling, gasping figure at his feet. “This wasn’t your fault.”

He finished the job, wiped off his blade, and turned his back on Miss Elowen, and the Rose.

When Heden returned from dinner with Hapax Legomenon, he found a packed inn. Standing room only. Something was happening. Something he wasn't in the mood for.

There were something like 30 girls, all sitting and standing around. In and amidst another 20 customers. There was a low roar as they all talked and frittered. They were shaken. Something had happened. None of them seemed to notice Heden.

He pushed his way through them and noticed they were all young, and all dressed...dressed very nicely. Dressed like Martlyn and Caerys.

"Oh no," he said out loud.

One of the girls turned around. Caerys. He hadn't noticed her.

"Your lordship!" she called out, putting one hand on Heden's chest as the other flew to her mouth.

"What in the horny hells is going on in here?" Heden asked.

"Uh, well," Caerys said, looking around, her pretty face pinched in a worried frown, "there was a ...something happened," she said, trying to answer him without saying anything.

"The count burned down the Rose Petal," a voice said. Heden turned to see Martlyn, looking older.

Heden slumped a little more and put one hand to his forehead. "Gods," he said. "Cavall."

He looked around the inn at all the girls. Now he knew why they were here and so desperately afraid.

"'It's not safe to be your friend,'" he quoted under his breath.

"What?" Caerys asked, it was hard to hear with the noise in the inn.

He looked at her. She looked back at him. Without saying it, he read the expression on her face. 'What are we going to do?' it said.

"Is everyone alright?" Heden asked.

Caerys looked around. "No!" she said. "They're terrified. Bann...no one knows what happened to him."

"He stayed behind," Martlyn said flatly. "To give us time to get out. I don't think he made it."

"Now they're afraid the count's coming for all of us," Caerys said.

Heden shook his head. He gestured and the girls stepped closer.

"That's not going to happen. He won't come in here. He won't attack this place. He tried and it cost him three men. Everyone's safe here, do you understand?"

The girls listened, looked at the others milling around in the common room. Many had stopped talking and were watching Heden, aware the man was someone important.

"Can they stay?" Caerys asked.

"I don't know," Heden said straightening up. "I don't...,"

"We want to tell them they can stay the night," Martlyn said. There was something in her voice. 

Heden looked at her. She was going to leave. If Heden didn’t agree to this, Martlyn would leave and then  Caerys would leave. What would Vanora do, he wondered. Stupid question.

“Alright,” he said. “They can stay. For now.”

Caerys clapped her hands together. Martlyn just nodded.

“Where’s Vanora?” Caerys asked. “We need her.”

“No we don’t,” Martlyn said.

“She’s safe,” Heden said. “For now. I have to work fast. I need to find an alchemist named Tam. You’ll be safe here while I look. The count wants Vanora, not you.”

“We can help!” Caerys said, but Heden wasn’t paying attention. Something had distracted him. Someone in the inn.

The press of bodies randomly parted and closed, revealing a woman sitting at a table by the fire. She was alone. She held a small glass of uske beet as if the glass itself gave her warmth and sustenance.

She was pretty, but plain. Her hair was long and brown, she was Heden's age, and wore no makeup. Her eyebrows looked thin and her lips almost non-existent. She was wearing a plain brown cloak.

Heden looked around. None of the girls recognized her. Without her magically enhanced hair coloring, her makeup, her finery, they didn't realize Elowen was sitting right there with them. The woman under whose roof they had worked and lived for years. Now as anonymous as any other patron.

"Take care of the girls," Heden said. “Keep the place open, serving customers. Give them something to do.” Caerys and Martlyn nodded as Heden walked away.

He approached Elowen's table, pushing his way past the girls and occasional patron.

He stood in front of her. She looked up at him. Her eyes were red from crying and, seeing Heden, it seemed all about to start again.

Heden's hands balled into fists as his restrained his anger at the count.

"Meet me at the bridge," he said.

Elowen looked up at him, and then back down at her drink. She nodded.

He retreated and went to the door to the cellar.