by Alan Scott
Lying on his back, Aaron unfolded the velvet to reveal the brooch that he had removed from Sergeant Guardian Aaron Braken’s dead body. Placing one arm behind his back to use as a pillow, Aaron held the brooch up and watched the hypnotic florescent colours of the stones shimmering within the brooch. Aaron smiled. The colours always reminded him of the colours of death: purples, greys, reds, white, ivory, yellows, and browns.
Aaron’s eyes closed and his mother’s pasty white dead face leered out of the darkness at him. Her yellow stained ivory teeth snapped at him. “Hello, Mum,” whispered Aaron.
His mum shrieked at him.
“I love you.”
At those words, his mother’s face started to fold in, as if someone was hitting it with a large stone. Black blood began to ooze from the ruptured skin.
“I love you,” repeated Aaron.
His mother shrieked one last time as the top of her head caved in, before lying still. In his dream, Aaron stood up and went to kneel next to the woman’s body. Her head had been badly smashed and her legs were missing – just stumps above the knee.
“Mum,” said Aaron in a small childlike voice as he gave his mum a push on her shoulder. “Mum, I love you,” - another, stronger shove - “Mum, please! I love you! Please!”
The corpse remained unmoving and still. Aaron leaned over and put his head on his mother’s back, wrapped his arms around her torso, and started to slowly rock. “Please, Mum.”
In the darkness, time slowed until Aaron heard the voice he had been waiting for. “Hello, son.”
Standing, Aaron Power turned round to see a dark figure emerge from the pitch black. “Hello, Father. Have you found her?”
“Yes, son, I have finally found her.”
Aaron’s voice shook slightly. “You have found my angel of death with the emerald green eyes?”
“Yes, for I am the Midnight Man and I am strong, unlike some.”
“Where… where is she, Dad?”
In the darkness an image came into being of a woman with wild eyes and hair.
“That is not her,” stated Aaron.
“Yes, it is,” whispered the Midnight Man. “Your memories have been twisted and dulled by that fool Warsmith. This is Joanna Harris, your angel of death, the woman you have longed for all these years.”
“Is it? Can it be?”
“Look at her, son.”
“I am not too sure.”
“How long have we been talking, son?” asked the Midnight Man.
“Over five years, Father.”
“Have I ever lied to you?”
“No,” said Aaron.
“Have I ever led you astray?”
“No.”
“Have I ever tried to hold you back – like Warsmith?”
“No.”
“Then, son, look upon this woman’s face. Do you not see a love of death that matches your own? Do you not see beauty in her madness? Look at her, son; look at her. Do you not see an angel of death?”
Aaron Power looked at the image of the woman. Could it be she was the one he had searched for? Could it be the angel from Castle Black that had killed so effortlessly and so wonderfully? Could it be? Aaron gasped as Joanna Harris’s eyes locked onto his – they were emerald green. Confused, Aaron tried to remember what colour they had been a few moments ago. He was sure they were not emerald green… They had been… they had been…
“Emerald green,” whispered the Midnight Man in his ear.
They had been… emerald green; of course, they had. All doubt vanished from Aaron as he gazed upon the face of his true love. “Where is she?”
The Midnight Man laughed gently. “Don’t worry, son, she will find you soon and take you away from all this.”
“I would like that.”
“But first, we need you to be patient and to keep an eye on Bruce Warsmith for us.”
“Us?”
“Yes, your lover and I.”
“My lover – I like the sound of that.”
“I bet you do. Anyway, Warsmith is becoming weak and old.”
“I have noticed. He is making mistakes.”
“Yes, he is. You must make sure that his mistakes increase and become worse.”
“How?”
“Ah, let us talk, my child.”
***
Aaron Power opened his eyes to the early morning dawn. He looked down at the cross burned into his chest and saw it glowing an angry red. The light drizzle hissed as it hit the inflamed area.
Sitting upright, Aaron looked down at the brooch in his hand and its shimmering florescent colours. He remembered the Midnight Man’s voice. “She loves you, son; make her proud. Joanna Harris loves you.” He remembered the wild woman who came to him in his dream. He remembered the violence of their lovemaking. He remembered what she had whispered in his ear, the promises she had made, and, finally, he remembered the ecstasy of the pain and the euphoria of the pleasure he had endured in his dream.
Standing slowly and painfully, Aaron rolled his shoulders and neck, trying to work out the kinks in his muscles after sleeping in the cold air. Swinging his arms, he looked across camp to where Brother Bruce Warsmith’s tent would be, if he could see it through the tents. Power’s eyes narrowed as he thought back to what the Midnight Man had said about the aging man. Had Warsmith really saved him? Did Warsmith really care about him, or was he just ‘a good deed’ to show off to his friends? Does Warsmith understand him like the Midnight Man does? Could Warsmith learn to embrace the beauty that is in death?
Aaron Power let his arms drop to his sides before looking down at the brooch he still had in his hand. The colours of death were beautiful, and when you mixed them all up, they became one. They became black, a deep midnight black.
Suddenly, everything made sense and Aaron Power knew exactly what he wanted and how to get it. He wanted the woman with the emerald green eyes and the Midnight Man could give her to him, because the Midnight Man was powerful. The Midnight Man would come to him. The Midnight Man would show him the way.
Aaron looked round, taking in the early morning vista before saying quietly and with a smile, “The Midnight Man cometh.”
Chapter Four
Blood Money
One year later
Rab Cregg whistled tunelessly as he walked through the palace corridors on his way to a business meeting with the representatives of the Red Bank. If they could come to some sort of agreement, it would significantly help the financial problems the Twin Kingdoms was currently facing.
Ahead, he saw Shadow Killer striding towards him with a dark scowl on his face. Rab rolled his eyes, took a deep breath, and lowered his head.
“Cregg!” called out Shadow Killer.
“Shadow Killer,” acknowledged Rab, as he tried to walk past.
“Did you not get my message?”
“I did, indeed, and I thank you for it,” said Rab as he passed.
Shadow Killer reached out, grabbed Rab by the shoulder, and hauled him back. “Your father is dead.”
“Yes, I know. Thank you for telling me. Now, I have a meeting to go to.”
“Do you not care?” Shadow Killer growled.
Rab looked around as people passing in the corridor turned to watch the two men. “We are being watched making a scene. I suggest we retire to that room there, if it’s empty.”
“Very well.”
Rab knocked on the door. When there was no reply, he opened the door and led Shadow Killer into the room. “Now, what....”
Shadow Killer pinned Rab to the wall with his only hand. “Your father is dead and you do not even mourn.”
“Arrghhh,” managed Rab as he tried to break Shadow Killer’s hold. Shadow Killer gave Rab a look of disgust and released him. Rab fell to the floor, gasping as he tried to catch his breath.
“You just don’t care,” stated Shadow Killer as he strode to the opposite wall.
Standing, Rab rubbed his throat and glowered at Shadow Killer. “Do you know what? You are
most likely right.”
Shadow Killer spun on his heel and stared at Rab in disbelief.
“I only saw him, what? – three times in the last twenty-five or six years.”
“But...”
“NO! No, Shadow Killer! You dragged me into this room; now, listen to what I have to say! He and Belinda raised me, and for that, I am thankful. Yes, I am very much aware that he saved me from being killed by Nathanial West when I was very small, and yes, I am very much aware that I nearly got them both killed over that sword. However, the sword incident was over twenty-five years ago and I am a different man now. I have a wife, grown kids, and an important job.”
“You could have seen him more often. Why did you not see him more often?” demanded Shadow Killer.
“Work, and just... I just never had the time, you know...”
“No, I don’t know. It’s because you were ashamed of him, wasn’t it? It was because you were ashamed of him.”
Rab looked at the floor. “No. No, of course not. I was never ashamed of him or Belinda.”
Shadow Killer smiled a cold hard smile. “I never mentioned your mother.”
“Foster mother,” corrected Rab. Shadow Killer said nothing and waited.
“I was not ashamed of them. I wasn’t! It’s just not easy knowing that your foster mother ran a brothel and your foster father was gay.”
Shadow Killer continued to wait and stare.
“I know what you are doing, Shadow Killer. I do! Do you want to hear the truth, then? Do you?” said Rab, angrily.
“Yes.”
“Then yes, I was ashamed of him! He was gay! He... he did unnatural things with other men.” Rab ran his hand through his hair and over his face. “I just could not understand that. How can a man want to have sex with another man? It’s just not right.”
“Did he not always accept you for who you were?” asked Shadow Killer.
“Yes.”
“Then why could you have not accepted him?”
“Because it was different.”
“Different how?”
“He was a better man than me.” Rab slumped against the wall. “There, I said it. He was a better man than me.”
“He was a better man than most of us. He never judged and he always helped,” added Shadow Killer.
“I was going to go and see him three years ago with the kids, but I changed my mind.”
“Why?”
“Because I was worried that he would act gay, that he would upset the kids, that he would embarrass me.”
“Act gay?” queried Shadow Killer.
“You know – the hands and the fussing and the... the... other things.”
“Had he ever ‘acted gay’ before in front of the children?”
“No,” said Rab, guiltily.
“Then why did you think he would on your next visit?”
“I was just scared.”
“Of being embarrassed.”
“Yes.”
Shadow Killer snorted and walked to the opposite end of the room.
“Look,” said Rab, “what do you want me to say, eh? I was raised by a gay man and a prostitute. They loved me, looked after me, and raised me as best they could. I am thankful for that, and I try and live my life in a way that would make them be proud of me. However, I can’t cry nor be very upset over the death of a man I have barely seen in twenty-five years.”
Shadow Killer gave Rab another disgusted look.
“What? Do you want me to lie, beg, or show false sorrow? Well, do you?”
Shadow Killer remained silent.
“I did not visit either of them because I was embarrassed by what they were, and I did not want my children to find out. Sorry, I am only human.”
Shadow Killer said nothing.
“Now, if you will excuse me, I have a meeting with a Senior Banker Tania Stone of the Red Bank.” Rab Cregg looked at Shadow Killer. “I am sorry your friend is dead. Right, I need to go.” With that, Rab opened the door and stepped into the corridor.
***
Senior Banker Tania Stone of the Red Bank held the warm cup of tea in both her hands as she stood in one of the palace’s many meeting rooms and looked out the window at the winter scene before her. Although it was mid-winter, the palace and the surrounding lands had been spared the worst of the bad weather and only a light covering of snow could be seen on the distant mountains. Tania sipped at her tea. “This will be all mine soon,” she said, quietly.
Three firm knocks on the door broke the silence of the room.
“Enter,” called out Tania.
The door opened and in walked Rab Cregg, “I am so sorry for being late. There was some unforeseen business.”
“I totally understand,” smiled Tania.
“Thank you.” Rab returned the smile, and indicated the table in the centre of the room with his left hand. “Shall we sit?”
“Yes, let’s sit,” said Tania, making her way to the table.
“I see you have been taken care of.”
“Yes, the palace staff has offered me hospitality.”
“Good.” Rab pulled out a chair for Tania.
“Thank you,” said Stone as she sat down.
“You’re welcome.” Rab made his way round to the opposite side of the table, sat down, and made himself comfortable. “Right, to business.” He smiled.
“Yes, to business.” Tania smiled back. “The crown is late with its payments to the Red Bank.”
“Ah, yes; however…”
“There is no ‘however’, Mr Cregg. The crown owes the Red Bank money and we would like it within the next seven days, or we will have no option other than to request our full loan back within thirty days.”
“WHAT... What?” gasped Rab.
“Pay what you owe us or we will ask for the full loan back within thirty days.” Tania sipped her tea.
“Tania...”
“This is official business. Let’s use official terms, Master Cregg.”
Rab looked at the beautiful woman before him and rubbed his chin, thoughtfully. “As you say, Senior Banker Stone.”
“Better.” Another sip of tea.
Rab gave a small non-committal smile. “Senior Banker Stone, we have had a bad harvest in the north of our country. The wheat fields of the east are only just recovering from the war. Also, bandit attacks have been higher and more savage of late…”
“Yes, I have heard the werewolves are growing bold…”
“We are not totally sure that they are Dev’ver attacks …”
“Really!” Tania Stone raised her immaculate eyebrows.
“Yes, really. Anyway, as I was saying, we have had bad luck this year and, hence, have been unable to meet the repayments. All we ask is a grace of three months so that we find our feet, and for that three month grace, we are willing to pay an additional six months of payments.”
“No,” said Tania.
“Sorry?” asked Rab in disbelief.
“No.”
“Why?”
“The Red Bank now feels that the Twin Kingdoms is a poor risk.”
“A poor risk.”
“Yes, we worry that since you have now missed two full payments…”
“Due to unforeseen circumstances and…”
“As you say, but that does not change the fact that you are now a risk.” Tania Stone’s voice became very business-like, “As a gesture of good will, we have given you seven days. I would strongly recommend that you do not abuse our good will.” Tania stood up and made her way to the door. “Pay and all will be well; if you don’t … well...” Tania left the sentence unfinished.
“You dare threaten the Twin Kingdoms?”
Tania opened the door and half-turned to Rab. “You dare take on the Red Bank?” With that, she left the room and closed the door.
Rab sat unmoving at the desk for a few moments, before placing his head in his hands. “Damn it.”
***
Tania Stone strode down the palace corridor as if
she owned it. A bright smile danced on her lips as she walked. The plan was going well. Soon, the Twin Kingdoms would fall and the land plunged into anarchy. Then, with the Church destroyed (the Church was Alicia Saunt’s problem), she, Tania Stone would own this palace and all the minions that called it home.
Tania laughed out loud. People in the corridor turned to look at her as they continued to walk past her. Tania placed a hand over her mouth, as her eyes grew wide in fake shock at what she had done. “Sorry,” she murmured, “sorry.”
It took her another ten minutes to make her way to the palace guest rooms. Opening the door to her room, she called out, “Hi, honey! I’m home.”
A man dressed only in trousers walked in from the bedroom. He was tall, powerfully built, bronzed, with piercing green eyes and raven-dark hair.
“Ah, Plaything, there you are.”
“I am, Mistress.”
“As am I, Tania,” a female voice added, as a woman appeared from the bedroom, adjusting her red robe.
“Ah, Maria,” said Tania, “I see you have been making yourself… at home in my absence.”
Maria Clough glanced at the man before her with a wicked smile and a raised eyebrow. “I have partaken of your… hospitality.”
Tania walked over and ran a finger along Plaything’s rock hard abs. “Yes, well, my hospitality is quite impressive; however, we must take care of business first. Wine?”
“Please,” replied Maria.
“Plaything, wine! We will be on the balcony.” Tania turned to Maria. “Shall we?”