Crown (The Manhunters Book 3)

by Jesse Teller

  “Lose them both. Assume the worst. Assume they are leading you,” Rayph said. “Dissonance, I want you to meet up with Smear. There might be a fight and I don’t want him alone. Radamuss is dangerous if he is there. I think your spear might be the only weapon we have that will cause him to slow. If he is there, watch his forms.”

  “Yes, Rayph. Smear, where are you?” Dissonance said. Her calm tone and unshakable demeanor soothed Rayph and made him focus on where he was and what he was being taken into.

  They entered a bar. It was unlike any place Rayph had seen before.

  This was no bar; this was a brothel. It was lush and soft in ways Rayph had never seen. Huge lamps burned some clean burning oil and lit the room in a hazy white glow. The carpets were dark in color and accented by the black painted walls and red finery that hung from the walls and ceilings. The slight aroma of perfume and sweat lingered here, but in a pleasant way that made Rayph think of sexual bliss. The room emanated a delicate, clean aura that eased Rayph’s mind and made him feel safe and powerful at the same time.

  The clientele was rich and plump with fine clothing and deep pockets. Jewelry and gold dripped off them and they spoke in low tones to the ladies who entertained them. Rayph was met at the stairs by a beautiful woman wearing a black veil that clung tight to her face, dripped over the right eye and cheek, and stopped at the jaw. She laughed, a slight tinkling thing that made Rayph’s crotch stir, and he cursed under his breath.

  “Rayph Ivoryfist. I cannot believe my luck in finding myself standing before you. My love for you is great, trimerian,” she said. Her skin was milk pale and peppered with faint freckles that at once made her seem young and playful. Her eyes were a sultry brown and deep. They were too much to look at for long, and Rayph knew he needed to concentrate on his wife and his mission and not spend too much time talking to this woman. Her lips were full and red. They looked delicate and tantalizing, and Rayph felt the urge to reach out and brush them with his fingertips. Her smile seemed to glow with the soft promise of sex and fulfillment.

  “How know you to love me?” Rayph asked.

  “You don’t remember me, do you, Ivoryfist?” She licked her lips and shook her head. “I have never met a man that has forgotten me. This is a delight.” She chuckled and Rayph wondered indeed how he had forgotten a woman like this.

  “What name do I call you, milady?”

  “I am Tawny. Simply Tawny, but you may call me anything you wish. You have earned that right.”

  “Tawny, is this where you work?” Rayph asked. Eloam had drifted away somewhere. Rayph looked around. He had been abandoned to this woman, and he wondered where she might be taking him.

  “Dear Rayph, I have not worked in a place like this in some time. I do not ply the trade of my establishment. I am a guardian, nothing more. I do not taste of the clientele. I have not taken in a man since you saved me from the fate many years ago.”

  How did he not remember this woman? He looked again at her eyes, feeling himself falling into them. “You are the madam here?”

  “I am.”

  “I saw no sign over the door. What do you call this place?”

  “Is there a sign over paradise?” She blessed him with a crooked smile and he knew her sly.

  “There is no name for heaven, no,” Rayph said.

  “Then how would I know what to call my business? Do you want me, Rayph?” Tawny said. She stepped toward him and opened in some way that was impossible for him to define.

  Rayph’s mouth dried up. He shook his head. “If ever there was a woman I did want who was not my wife, that woman might be you. But that is not the kind of man I am. My Archialore is far and away the owner of my heart.”

  “I never mentioned your heart, Rayph. I have sworn off the physical body, but I would tarry from my celibacy for a night with my savior.”

  “Tawny?” Rayph said.

  She eased slightly closer and licked her lips. “Rayph?”

  “Are you going to take me to him or are we staying here?”

  She stepped one tread closer and touched his lapel. He looked down at her and felt a growing desire to possess her. He realized he had been away from his wife for far too long.

  “I just wanted to see you first for myself. I know not the fate that awaits you when you leave this place. Are you certain I cannot serve you, anything, or everything I possess?”

  “Yes, Tawny, I am quite sure.”

  “Then I will send you on your way. Be careful, Rayph, and know that this place is safe for you should you ever need to hide.” She leaned closer and kissed his cheek. She whispered in his ear. “If you need safety from anyone at all, you come here.”

  Rayph nodded. He turned away and saw Eloam standing near a door on the far side of the room. Rayph followed. They made their way through a restaurant and a pub. They walked through a room with hookahs and incense. When they reached the alleyway in the back of the building, Eloam handed Rayph a bag.

  “Your head. Now.”

  Rayph nodded and pulled the bag over his head. He whispered a spell under his breath and waited for it to take effect, waited for the ability to see through the bag. He cursed many seconds later when it didn’t come.

  “I’m blindfolded and my spells can’t punch past it,” Rayph said.

  Nothing.

  “Can’t anyone hear me out there?”

  Nothing.

  The Lair of the Hood

  Rayph decided he would have to pay close attention to the paths and byways they took from this moment on, then he heard a rip upon the air and was slapped in the face with cooler air. A portal had been opened in front of him. He was shoved toward it. He stumbled in and the portal slammed closed.

  He was in a room with many people, though he could not tell whom. He was being walked down stairs. He stopped at the bottom of the flight and was pulled forward to a point on the ground. The bag was ripped from his head to a cacophony of hissing. His eyes adjusted to the light and Rayph looked around. He stood over a drop off on both sides, on a kind of bridge that led to a stage and a throne.

  The man sitting atop it had him.

  Rayph knew many things, knew he could not see what was really happening. There was an illusion in play here somewhere, and he knew he couldn’t reach the man before him. He knew this man was Silk. No one could have stood in for him. This was no trick. He had no decoy. This was the man who led Ty. This was Cable’s boss. He knew the man did not harness magic nor was he a great fighter. The sword hovering before the throne was for show. Silk was not a killer or a wizard, did not wield steel or bolt. He was a mind, nothing else. The smartest man in every room he stood in. And topmost of the things Rayph knew was this man had claimed him.

  A magic draining pearl was somewhere close. Rayph did not feel its effect, but he knew it was here. There were men in this room who would stop Rayph before he could close the distance and strike this man. Silk had thought of everything. Rayph could do nothing but assess his situation and think.

  The bridge he stood on spanned a deep pit filled with writhing snakes. The throne was made up of snakes, one huge cobra rising up with its hood open behind the seat, a snake held back and ready to strike as each arm. The tongue, forked and poised, hung over the man’s head, and Rayph suddenly wondered if the massive vipers Silk sat on came to life at the wave of a hand or the speaking of a word.

  Rayph turned his back on Silk, a risky endeavor, but he needed to see the forces arrayed against him. A rise of seats looked down on him, many people waiting for some word from Silk as to what to do.

  Ty sat beside an empty chair. He rested his dagger on his thigh and stared with rapt attention at Rayph and the rest of the room. He did not look friendly or dangerous. He looked ready for anything or anyone. Beside him sat a thug. He had no guile or mind to him at all. He was dirty as one might be who lived on the streets. He carried a steel bat that slapped his palm as he watched Rayph look at him. He had long brown hair and chewed something that might have been devil weed
. He wore a dark blue jacket, filthy black in places, and he looked tougher than almost anyone Rayph had ever seen. Not as hard as Dran, but close.

  “His name is Jon Jon. He is my muscle on the street.” Silk’s voice was smooth and dripped with power. “He will be the one to bring Shiv to his knees. He is young, angry, and hard, and I wouldn’t stare at him for too long were I you. He takes offense to almost everything.”

  Rayph looked at the boy, who snarled back at him, and Rayph turned to the next.

  “He is our devout member,” Silk said as Rayph looked upon a man dressed in glossy black robes. He wore a high hat that lifted like a spike into the air. His face was painted with the visage of a skull, and he carried a staff with a crow sitting atop it.

  “He is a member of the cloth, The Pale if I’m not guessing wrong,” Rayph said.

  “He is. We call him Dirge and he is here to bring Brody low. The Pale is not fond of the Mind. She wants him dead at all costs,” Silk said.

  That didn’t seem right to Rayph, but he did not stop to think on it long. He turned his eye to Lyceanias and his blood froze. The man’s hair was slicked back with blood that dripped from his shoulders and arms. He had a body draped over his back, and he seemed almost not to notice the weight of it.

  Rayph noticed Tawny sitting in a chair at the back of the room. She looked small in the company of these criminals, and Rayph decided he wanted to get her out of here as soon as possible. He fought back against the impulse, knowing her at home among these men.

  “There are more of us, of course,” Silk began, but Rayph knew it a lie. This group was seeping members. The ones who belonged here were either dead or had switched sides on Silk. “We are out and about. Moving amongst the people. We are here or there. We are—”

  “Dying,” Rayph said.

  Lyceanias dropped the body at his feet and stepped over it. Silk laughed.

  “Dying you say, I say growing. Our ranks on the street keep expanding. Jon Jon can’t keep track of all the men, women, and children who are coming out of the darkest spots of the city to flock to our arms.”

  “He better learn to keep track of them. They will bite him soon if they have not readied the chomp yet.”

  Jon Jon jumped to his feet and grabbed his bat. Rayph nodded and motioned for him to come.

  “Come on, kid, let’s get it going then,” Rayph said. “Bring your might and I will show you mine. Let’s see who survives who.”

  Silk laughed and motioned to Ty. Ty stood up and Jon Jon froze. He looked at Ty and stomped back to his chair. Ty sat down and Rayph turned to Silk.

  “I hope you are recruiting,” Rayph said.

  “We need a show of force,” Silk said. “Need to make a move against Chaos to display our supremacy.”

  “No, you need to hide,” Rayph said. Silk said nothing, he simply waited.

  Lyceanias stomped forward. “This man is a coward. Let me feed him to my bull,” the warrior said.

  Rayph ignored the statement.

  “The Pale is ready to bring the boy boss to the ground,” Dirge said. “Find a way to get me in the same room with him and I will—”

  “The Pale doesn’t work that way and you know it,” Rayph said. Dirge’s eyes exploded with hate, and his hand pulled back to slap Rayph.

  “If this man is telling you any different, then he is a fraud,” Rayph said to Silk.

  Dirge fumbled in his robes for something. Rayph shook his head. “Stop him or I will. I know his goddess. If that hat is real, then he should know her, too. I don’t like him. I don’t trust him.”

  Silk shook his head and Dirge dropped to the ground. Ty reached out and took back the dart he had thrown, and Silk seemed furious. “We are powerful beyond your imagination.”

  “Is that what we came here to do? Lie to one another?” Rayph asked. “We are wasting our time if you tell me you are going to fix this problem all by yourselves. The street is bladed with villains the likes of which you can barely understand. We can stand as one, or you can duck down and hide out the storm. I’m sure there are other syndicates out there doing the same thing. Wait for Chaos to be ruined by me and my people, and then you come slithering out of your hole.”

  “We will not do that,” Ty said.

  Silk nodded and put a hand up.

  “Cable was attacked. What did you do about it?” Rayph asked.

  “I was waiting until—”

  “He has done nothing,” Ty said. “I beg him to let me loose and he holds me back.”

  Rayph turned to Ty and nodded. “And he is right to do it. Alone you have no chance at taking Bedlam. You cannot make a stand against him and you can’t stealth him. He is expecting you, Ty. This reaction is why he did what he did. He can’t pull you out, so he has to come at you through her. Do not run to his beckon. Silk is right to hold you back.”

  “I can’t sit by and do nothing. I need blood!” Ty screamed, his dagger in his grip, his face screwed up in hate.

  “Can you heal her?” Silk asked. Rayph turned to the crime boss and shrugged.

  “I’m not sure. Maybe, though I haven’t healed anything in a long time.” He turned to Ty and shook his head. “She wouldn’t want you going out there with searing blood and revenge on your mind.”

  “Wouldn’t she?” Ty said. “How are we to know what she would or would not want when they took her damn jaw!”

  “Rayph will try to heal her. When she is back to full strength, I will send both of you after Brody,” Silk said. He stood as if that was it.

  “Wait a breath, you do not order me around,” Rayph said. “I am Rayph Ivoryfist, commander of the Manhunters. I am not to be issued commands by a criminal.” Rayph knew he was speaking in arrogance. He knew his pride was stirring him up again. His next plan had been to go to Cable, but he could not let this man tell him to do it. He could not let Silk think the Manhunters worked for him. Rayph’s crew possessed too much power and were far too strong.

  “You want to do something other than heal Cable?” Silk asked.

  “Rayph?” Ty said behind him. Rayph clenched his jaw.

  “That is not what I said.”

  “Then what is the issue? You have better things to do right now?” Silk said. “You want to spend your time plotting and planning. Maybe go have a rest, or go eat something. Maybe you would rather take Tawny off somewhere to talk. You have something more pressing that needs your attention. Other than healing an ally and a friend?”

  “No, I will attend to her now, but I want it to be noted I am not doing so because you told me to.” Rayph felt petty and slight. He knew words he meant to sound strong were coming out weak. Jon Jon laughed. Rayph decided he hated the kid.

  “Sure, Rayph, it was your idea. That is what we will go with. When you’re done healing her, come find me. I will listen to your plan and see if it is to my liking.” Silk turned around and was gone. Rayph growled. He looked up at Ty, knowing he had just lost this first exchange with the Hood Syndicate.

  Bridges of Skin

  Hours spread apart like rotting skin. They stretched and separated until time seemed endless. And all the while, the miles reached out. It seemed they walked on an arm grasping for more ground, as if the very landscape fumbled out before them with frantic fingers, never quite getting a hold. With every step, they seemed to move backward, as if slipping downhill as they walked.

  The land was flat, but Roth felt he was walking up a slight hill he could only perceive with exhaustion. The ground was brown and hard as if comprised of a single piece of rock, but as flat as it was, tiny spikes like teeth covered its entire surface. They were only noticeable when he stopped to take a knee or sit.

  Above them a great sun hung in the air, an odd kind of oval shape, and it seemed to have arms and legs that thrashed. As far as Roth could tell, it never went out or set. It appeared strapped to the roof of Hell, an unmoving, unflinching source of heat and light. Roth even felt as if he could sense the sun screaming.

  He fought not to think
about it.

  “Left,” Arcturus said.

  Roth spun, nothing but land flexing out as far as he could see.

  “What is that?” Burke said.

  A small faint line on the horizon was moving very slightly in their direction.

  “I can’t believe it,” Tate said in wonder.

  “What?” Roth said, more scared by the fact Tate knew what this might be than the idea of having to face it.

  “Just a hunch,” Tate said. “We should wait here. If I am right, then we have little to fear. If wrong, we are in for a fight.” Tate let himself relax, shaking his arms out at his sides and closing his eyes.

  Roth looked at the ground, knowing better than to sit or kneel, and he wished he could summon up a chair to sit in. “If I am wishing, it should be a bed.”

  Arcturus grunted.

  Roth looked at the man’s hand, the area around the missing finger still bleeding through the wrap Burke had given the warrior. The skin at the point of the cut was ragged, though it had been sliced with a steady hand and keen blade. It seemed the skin itself was fraying in some way. It was turning black, the bone in the middle of the wound becoming a slight yellow color.

  Roth turned away. He could not think of that anymore.

  “Tate, talk to me now. Tell me who you think this is. Why would you know to expect someone?”

  “The books spoke of a savior.”

  “What books? What savior?”

  “The books about Hell. The recent writings seem to indicate a man roams these wastes, a kind of aid to those in need.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “Hell has a guardian,” Tate said. “He seems to be drawn to those who come here for the purposes of good. Not much is known about him save he is an old warrior, a veteran of the land ready to do good.”

  “How do you know all these things? You knew to speak to the devil in the common tongue.”

  “I assumed such a powerful fiend would be civilized enough to speak our language.”