Hemlock (The Manhunters Book 2)

by Jesse Teller

  He looked for faces he knew but, to his relief, could not find any. The crumbling wall built over one hundred thousand years ago dropped behind them, and the great city rose up before them. Rayph settled his heart and looked at his trembling hands. He stopped at a line outside the gate, waiting for the guards to inspect them.

  “If only they took this sort of care when letting in the scum off the sea,” Rayph muttered. If anyone heard, no one said as much.

  Rayph met the guard with a smile and a spell. The man’s sour mood warped to jovial in the breath of an instant, and he smiled up at Rayph. “What ya got today?” he said. “What are you bringing us?”

  “Got hay and a few scraps of leather that could make a saddle or two.”

  “Hoping to deal with a livery?”

  “I am. You got any mind as to who I might look for?” Rayph said.

  “Go to the eastern edge of town to a buddy of mine named Grillet. Runs the livery there. Good guy. Tell him Brand sent you. Tell him to take care of you.”

  “I will. Thank you,” Rayph said.

  “Hey, friend, have I met you before?” Brand said.

  Rayph felt a kick of panic, and he shook his head. “Don’t think so. You been to Narlamac in the last ten years?”

  “Oh no, those Lathian ports give me the creeps. Too many strange types to be found there. Too much foreign blood, and I have no taste for any wine save that which is brewed here.”

  “Lockian wine?” Rayph looked the man over closer, the yellowing of the eyes and the shadows under them. Rayph whispered the words to a spell and shook his head as the man’s eyes glazed over. “Lockian wine will kill you eventually if you let it. You might want to branch out and try other brews.”

  The man slowly nodded before a ranking guard yelled his name. He started and seemed about to cry.

  He waved them through. Rayph hoped the spell held, and he snapped his horses and entered the city. He passed the wall decorated to look as if waves were coming over the top. He rode the main road, open inns and brothels calling to passing traffic. An avelen hooker stepped out on a gilded balcony and spread her wings. Her naked body was painted with gaudy feathers. It quivered before Rayph and he could not help but look. He thought of his wife and the way her warrior form was cut and chiseled to hard abs and lean muscle, and he longed to hold her again.

  “See something you like?” Drelis chimed, and Rayph turned away.

  “Winged women remind me of her, that’s all. This woman herself does little to entice.”

  “Her naked body helps.”

  Rayph shook his head and stopped at the first large intersection he found. Smear leapt off the side of the cart and disappeared into the crowd. Rayph continued on. He turned his cart for the fine merchants’ section of town and stopped before a store specializing in magic and its basic components. Drelis elegantly stepped from her seat beside him and turned to go.

  “Do not mention my name,” Rayph whispered as he touched his fetish.

  Drelis ignored him, and he knew at once he had said something stupid. He snapped the reins and headed to the eastern livery.

  The deal had been made and Rayph was happy to be rid of the hay and leather. He enchanted the cart with an image of him driving it and, with intricate spells, taught the cart how to drive itself. He walked behind the cart as his magic drove it down the road just before sunset. It stopped at the gate, and Rayph ducked into an alley. His spell opened in front of him so he could see through his illusion’s eyes. His luck stayed with him as Brand walked to the side of the cart and looked inside. “Looks like my friend saw to you well,” he said.

  Rayph smiled, knowing the man could see his smile while looking into the face of his illusion.

  “Seems like a good man. I gave him an excellent deal on my goods. Next time through, I will have to buy you both a drink,” Rayph said.

  “Been thinking I might give the drinking up for a while. Draws me kinda haggard, to be honest. And Lockian prices are only going up.”

  Rayph smiled and nodded. “I must be moving on. I need to get home before the wife goes wild,” Rayph’s illusion said. “Never marry a mean woman, Brand.”

  “Seems that would have been good advice for you to listen to,” he said.

  “None of the nice ones would have anything to do with me.” They shook hands and Rayph’s illusion drove out of town.

  The cart would get as far as the end of the road before it stopped and the enchantment went out of it. Dreark would need it to get his men in the next day. Rayph turned to the streets growing dark behind him, and he made his way deeper into the city. He had to get indoors before the sun disappeared.

  Tristan would have been expecting to feel Rayph open a portal into the city. He had bought a few days sneaking in the way he had. Trysliana was already burrowing deep into the city’s underbelly, as she had been doing for the last two days. Most of the work she had to do without her fetish at first. No way to join a crew without them knowing every magical item on your person. She would be without a way to talk to them for at least another week. Rayph closed his eyes as he walked the familiar streets of the port, and he tried to sense her out there amongst the rot of the city. It was impossible to do, and he gave up after a small bit of time. No way to track an expert like her. No, he wouldn’t hear from her until she wanted him to. Until then, Rayph had to see the city. He directed himself to the largest inn the town could boast.

  The Speckled Lady stood three stories with many balconies and a large barn in the back. The massive wooden sign that hung down the top two stories depicted a naked woman covered in leopard print. She stood beside a signpost, arching her back and gripping a breast. The sign had been repainted recently, and as Rayph looked at the provocative image, his mind traveled back to his time spent with that woman, and he sighed.

  Rayph slipped into a crease in the buildings and whispered his spell as he pulled off his cloak. He dropped it in a pocket of air and stepped out of the crease a half a foot taller with white hair and a dapper suit of felt and velvet. His ring now held the fetish he hid, and he stroked the jewel, sensing the crew within reach.

  “Do you have me?” he asked.

  “Yeah, I’m right above you, boss. Second building to your right,” Smear said.

  “Been detected?”

  “No, but all this darkness will help. You’re covered. Don’t do anything stupid.”

  “I’m sure I don’t know what you mean,” Rayph said.

  He entered the bar, seeing hundreds of patrons and dozens of serving girls. The ceiling of the first floor had been removed and a massive balcony marked the second floor. Scores of prostitutes leaned over the balcony rail, naked or partially naked, groping each other and whistling at the crowd below. Men stood in lines to climb the stairs that led to the second level, and Rayph thought he saw a gleam of something out the corner of his eye.

  He closed his eyes and extended his aura, searching for any sign of what had passed him. Something had seen him. Something had recognized him. With the number of enemies he had in this town, he did not know to what extent he was in danger or how he would stifle it. He made his way across the floor, weaving through tables and stepping around drunken bodies until he reached the bar.

  A beautiful woman turned to him, with expectation on her face, and smiled at him. “What can I get ya, cutie?”

  “Lockian and a water.”

  Her face darkened. She nodded and scurried away. The man beside him touched his shoulder, and Rayph turned to see a man deep in his cups with a red, shining face and a large bloodshot nose. He seemed to be crying, and he stunk of Lockian ale.

  “All of them, that one included.” He pointed his finger at the woman who had just left to get Rayph’s drink.

  Rayph shook his head. “I’m sorry, I don’t follow.”

  “Harpies,” the man said, spitting on himself and Rayph with the speaking. “Every woman becomes a harpy when she climbs off her daddy’s knee. Once they are in their blood, they become vil
e to the core. Even that one with the tight ass and the beautiful smile.” He patted a huge, dirty knife hanging on his hip. “The only reason she is safe is because she keeps bringing me ale. S’all they’re good for.”

  The woman returned, and Rayph handed her a silver.

  “You have change coming,” she said.

  “Keep it,” Rayph said. “Kinda busy tonight, huh?”

  “Nah, really dead for this time of year, expecting bigger crowds. Kinda got the boss down.”

  “The lady on the sign? Any chance I could meet her?”

  The girl’s eyes flashed warning before she nodded. “She’s working tonight. Might be able to get you in.”

  “Try for me. I’ll be in the back,” he said.

  She nodded and turned to the next customer.

  Rayph turned to go, slipping the huge knife from the man’s side as he walked away. He crossed the room, making his way to a window. He slipped the knife out the window and let it fall to the street below. Rayph made his way to a corner booth. He set his drink on a table and snatched up a glass of wine that had been left unattended. He wiped the rim and dropped into the booth.

  “What did you ditch?” Smear asked.

  “Drunk man’s stupidity. Saw a murder in his future,” Rayph said as he wiped at his ring.

  “Any luck?”

  “We will see. She is here. Whether she is seeing anyone is another matter. Whether she will see me goes unknown.”

  “Do you think she is expecting you?”

  “Most likely.”

  “Is that a good thing?” Smear asked.

  “That’s why I have you out there.”

  In about an hour, a short scruffy man with a filthy vest and grease in his hair stopped at Rayph’s table. He looked him up and down, grunted something, and turned to go. Rayph followed.

  The portly man walked with a bit of a waddle. Rayph watched his hands sway at his sides, and the way his bulk rested on his body, and he knew the man could fight. He walked up a set of stairs leading past the second level of the inn and up to the third. He moved past doors half-ajar with different smelling tobacco pouring from them, the gurgle of the hooka in the distance. Rayph made his way past these doors, into a lobby set in the back of the building. The man motioned to a chair, and Rayph sat.

  “Can’t see you,” Smear said.

  Rayph looked around at the four other people waiting in this lobby, and he knew he couldn’t respond. He tapped the jewel on his ring and hoped it was enough of a sign. A large set of double doors stood at the end of the lobby, and Rayph watched, fascinated as they slowly opened to betray a smoke-filled room and purple, gauzy curtains blocking all sight of the inside.

  A woman carrying a sleeping child parted the curtain and left the room, leaving the doors open behind her. A thin merchant with a jeweled cane and a leather bag rose from his seat in the lobby and entered the room beyond the curtain. The doors slowly closed as if on their own.

  Time seemed to stand still, and Rayph waited with growing concerns and rising questions. The last time he had been here, the lobby had been packed to the walls with standing room only to see the Speckled Lady. Two had come in since he had, and only four had been here when he arrived. People were missing—powerful, important people. Her clients had started disappearing. It would be them first. Rayph had guessed that. This stood as proof enough that Tristan and Kat were in Hemlock.

  The door opened at last. The man before him stumbled out into the lobby and out the door. He seemed to be bleeding from the arm he gripped, and he made his way out of the lobby, back into the hall they had come from.

  “Enter,” he heard her say. Rayph rose and pushed his way through the purple curtains.

  The opulence of the room was breathtaking. Golden spun curtains hung from the windows, thrown open and exposing the night streets and the moon-studded sky. The carpet was a rich purple and brown, depicting persons with animal heads devouring humans. They dripped blood and gnashed gore-filled jaws, and Rayph knew the rug was there for a reason. He could not help but feel threatened and scared when staring at it.

  The furniture had been over-stuffed and draped with expensive coverings. The chandelier that hung the ceiling was crafted of crystal and contained softly glowing spheres of light instead of candles. Rayph saw a boy of maybe fifteen, bound and kneeling on the floor beside a massive marble tub, and within reclined the lady of the house. She rose from the bubbles and turned to expose her naked body, soapy and dripping. Her leopard fur was matted and wet, her breasts firm with hard nipples. Her long nails traced a circle around her belly button, and she smiled.

  “Hello, Dimeias. It has been far too long since my old lover came to see me,” she purred. Her leopard mouth turned up in a smile as her cat eyes flashed hot lust and a small taste of hate.

  “It has been a long time since we were lovers, Jetula. Fond times to be sure, but those days are behind us,” Rayph said. She snarled and curled her fist tight. She roared and fear leapt up in him.

  “What’s with the boy?” Rayph asked.

  She turned to the young man with a snarl. “He dies by my own jaws.”

  The boy sneered through wild blond hair, sewing a thread of panic into Rayph’s heart. A thick black scar crossed his left cheek like a dark smile. He wore the scars of claws that had been dragged down the right side of his neck and down below his collar. The left side of his neck had been branded. The boy’s eyes held rage at a level that hinted at madness.

  “By the gods, Jetula, what have you ensnared?” Rayph said.

  “He is a murderer and a coward and will be dealt with when I tire of his begging.”

  “I have yet to beg you for a scrap, bitch. I want nothing from you that I won’t take by the edge of a blade,” the boy said.

  Jetula laughed, and Rayph shook his head. “I would leave this one alone, Jetula. Something about him scares me.”

  She seemed to falter a bit in her confidence, but she masked it with a laugh and turned back to the boy. She strode slowly to his side and gripped him by his filthy hair, jerking his head back and placing a clawed finger at his throat.

  “I will teach you to beg, you worthless human. You killed someone dear to me. For that, you will be punished.”

  “Who is he?” Rayph asked.

  “They call him Aaron the Marked. He is from a northern city far to the east called Tergor. His people are a ragged bunch, nearly extinct now and largely enslaved. He will never see his home again.”

  Rayph looked the boy in the eye and doubted the words. “Let me buy him from you,” Rayph said. “I will pay you in any form you wish.”

  “No,” she snarled. “He dies by my hand. Pull your thoughts from him. I will speak of him no more.”

  Rayph took one more look at the boy, seeing Jetula’s death in his eyes, and he turned away. She had called him Dimeias. She still did not know him. How many years ago had he entered her life in this disguise, and never had she puzzled out his real identity? He nodded to her and smiled.

  “I am here to present myself to you. You are the mightiest wizardess in this city, and I will be here for quite a while. I wanted you to know I work in your domain.”

  “You will pay tribute,” she said.

  “I will not,” he replied. “That is not our relationship, and it never will be. We are rivals in power, but never in contest. If you have a problem with my presence here, you will meet me in combat, where I will display just what I have learned in our time apart.”

  “You were always the more powerful of us, Dimeias. Let’s not play at anything else. Why are you here?”

  “You know why,” he said, gambling she did indeed know the situation that brought him here.

  “I guess I do.” She slipped a silk robe on her body and lay back on a couch. She poured herself a glass of wine and offered one to Rayph. He shook his head.

  “How long have they been here?” Rayph asked.

  “No more than two weeks. Maybe less. They infest the upper crust. My clie
nts dwindle.”

  “What will you do about it?” Rayph asked.

  “I will leave. I am selling the bar to an interested party. I will take my belongings and charter a ship.”

  “You are going back to your home?”

  “No, foolish one, I am going to Syphere. I have contacts there who I can persuade to give me shelter. I will set up myself in the City of the Jinn.”

  “So you will run?”

  “And what else is there to do?” she said.

  “I’m not sure why I expected any more than this of you.”

  “She will not run,” Aaron said.

  “Shut your mouth, you cur.”

  “She will burn, right here in her seat of power,” Aaron said. “She will burn alive after my brothers and I have sliced her to ribbons. While she bleeds out, she will feel the delicious agony of flames devouring her. And while she prays for death, she will hear me laughing over the sounds of her screams.”

  “Delightful, isn’t he?” she said.

  “My king is coming. And when he gets here, you will be dealt with.”

  “Who is your king?” Rayph asked.

  “My king is Peter Redfist, son of Flak, King of the Nation of Four,” Aaron said.

  Jetula flicked her hand and a whip of lightning materialized in the air, slashing across Aaron’s chest. He snapped back, his neck standing out in strain, his eyes rolling back in his head. He loosed a moan until the shock passed, then he spat in her direction and laughed.

  Rayph pulled back, horrified.

  “This king of his is some boy of no consequence,” Jetula said, though Rayph could see a spark of fear in her eyes.

  “Seems you are busy with vendettas and fleeing for your life, Jetula,” Rayph said. “I will not keep you from your cruelty and cowardice.”

  She snarled again and parted her robe just enough for Rayph to see her naked fur-covered crotch. “Sure you must be running off?”