Preta peeks behind her.
Clist, leaning against a three-story apartment building brick wall, legs and arms crossed, brow arched, is scowling at her.
Preta spins back toward the walk of life. “Shoot, he saw.”
Yaz lowers his head, eying her. “What did you say?”
Preta shrugs him off. “Nothing,” and she glances back toward Clist, who is no longer in the same spot. Shit. Where’d he go? He saw me. He knows. I have to find out where he went.
Preta steps away from Yaz.
Yaz reaches back to grab her. “Stay close to me.”
“I just need some fresh air,” Preta says, taking another step away from her brother. “It’s all right, I’m right here.” She scans the wall.
Clist runs and turns into the alley leading to the main road.
Preta touches Yaz on the side, letting him know she’s still there.
Yaz gives her a tender smile and then turns back toward the crowd.
Deet and Lurrus approach the end of the walkway, and the congregation continues showering them with love and cheers and flowers.
Preta creeps away from Yaz. She lifts the bottom of her yellow dress off the ground and runs after Clist.
At the main road, Preta stops and searches both directions.
Clist ducks into a dark alley across the street, and Preta follows him.
At the entrance, she spins against the wall, takes a few quick breaths, and peeks around the corner.
Clist is near the other end of the alley, talking to a hooded man.
Barrels and stacked crates filled with straw line the wall, impeding Preta’s view. She crouches and creeps forward.
The tight shaded alley masks Preta’s movements. She peeks over the barrel top, and the hooded man comes into view. The whistler. I need to get closer. Preta crawls on all fours over the chipped brick and moist, rocky ground. Approaching the crates, Preta’s left knee sinks into a wet, muddy hole, soiling her new yellow dress. Behind the stack of crates, Preta peers through a crack along the wall and listens.
The whistler jams his finger into Clist’s chest, poking him with light, quick jabs. “You did good, my boy, you’ll get what you’re owed soon enough.”
“Thank you, sir, thank you so much. Whatever you need, I’d be glad to help, damn those Penters.”
The whistler nods down the alley. “Now back to the party, and watch them closely. You know what to do next. Remember, if you can’t get the one, get the other one.”
The whistler disappears, and Clist turns back toward Preta.
Preta ducks between the wall and the crate, wedging herself deep into the crack.
Clist giggles racing by her. “Preta Preta Penter, you’re the one that will get what you’re owed.”
Preta sucks in a breath and scoots to the opposite side of the crates. Her back bumps into a small scrap of wood tilted against the wall and it bounces and scrapes against the stone.
Clist stops at the noise and turns back and stares. He skips backward as he smiles, pivots, and laughs until he disappears, exiting the alley.
NOT ALL LOVE AVAILS
Preta huddles behind the crates as she counts to a hundred. She tries to put together Clist’s and the whistler’s conversation and their meaning. What did he mean one or the other? She peeks around the edge, looking for any movement. Her and who else?
Preta pushes off a crate and hugs the wall in shadow until she reaches the main road. She scans both directions and sprints to the alley leading back to the wedding.
With open arms and head tilted to the side, Yaz strolls toward Preta. “Where the heck have you been?”
“Sorry, I went to the privy, I couldn’t hold it any longer. I had to go right away.”
Yaz sneers at her. “And you couldn’t tell me? What are you trying to do, get me killed?”
Preta talks with her hands. “It’s not like that, it’s just… I didn’t want you to have to leave the wedding.”
“Dang.” Yaz points at Preta’s yellow dress. “You roll in crap at the privy too? Look at you, you’re a total mess.” He wipes his eyes in frustration and shakes his head. “Nala’s going to kill you—then she’s going to kill me.”
Preta inspects the wet, muddy stains caked on the yellow fabric. “Right, I fell. My foot got caught on the bottom of my dress when I was running to the privy because I was in a hurry to get back.”
“Nala’s so going to kill us.” Yaz rubs his hair and messes it up. He grunts and turns away from Preta.
Preta pats Yaz’s arm. “It won’t happen again, I promise. But I saw him, the whistler. He was talking to a boy in my class. I overheard him say ‘if he can’t get one then get the other.’”
Yaz quickly spins back toward Preta. “What did you say?”
“He said ‘if he can’t get one get the other.’”
Yaz squints, focusing on her every word. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“I think they may grab me or someone else at the party.”
With a tinge of anxiety in his touch, Yaz places his hand on Preta’s back and guides her back to the wedding. “Stick close to me and keep your eyes open. No need to tell anyone yet. Though no more running off.”
The musicians thump away, and the courtyard is alive with ale and feast and frivolity.
Deet and Lurrus dance slow in a tight embrace while others jig and jive around them.
Camped out by the pig, Grandpa and Lurrus’s father knock tin pints together in cheers.
With a pretty brunette girl in each arm, Dix smugly nods at Yaz.
One girl raises a pint to Dix’s mouth, and he drinks.
The other girl raises a piece of pig dangling from a knife and feeds him.
Dix rips off half the meat, chewing it with a grin and half-open mouth. “You’ve got work cut out for you if you’re gonna catch up to me, Penter.”
Yaz curls his lip. “Just giving you a head start, Ix, you need it.”
The girls giggle, and again one of them raises the pint to Dix’s mouth.
“As you can see, I’m far from just getting started.”
Yaz sneers at him, scanning him from head to waist. “I’d say you’re still far from finishing.”
“I’m not that far from the finish, right, ladies?”
The girls giggle and look at each other, seeking the other’s approval.
Yaz smirks at the girls and then winks at them. “So, ladies, how much did he pay you to feed him?”
Offended, Dix bobs his head. “Pay? Dix doesn’t need to pay for the company of lovely women.”
“I guess there’s a first time for everything.” Yaz eyes Preta. “Come with me, Sis, back to the party.”
Dix pushes away the girls and opens his arms. “Come on now, Yaz, let’s have some fun.”
“Can’t, Dix, family first. Seriously, just take the girls and get out of here. Maybe I’ll catch up with you later.” He nods at Preta. “Stay close.”
Preta sticks to her brother’s hip as they approach the feast table.
Yaz loads Preta’s plate with pork, bread, and cheese. “No more running off,” he says, glaring at her and handing her the plate. “And I mean it this time. I promised Deet I’d look out for you and keep you safe.”
“I won’t go anywhere without you, I promise.” She takes a bite of meat then gulps ale from a tin pint.
“What?” Yaz says, standing up straight taken aback. “You drink ale?”
“And why not?” Preta doesn’t look at him, instead she scans the walls for any sign of Clist.
“Just saying. But only one though, I don’t need a drunk sister while there’s a plot to capture you in motion.”
Preta swigs the pint’s entire contents then sets the cup on the table. She smacks her lips, sways to the side, then burps.
Nala, near the pavilion, waves at someone near the far alley which leads out of town and to the fruit orchards.
Lurrus stands one step behind Clist. She waves for Nala to come to her.
<
br /> Nala sets a red bouquet on a bench and strolls across the square.
“Lurrus and Nala, Yaz.” Preta tugs Yaz’s shirt. “Lurrus and Nala, they got them.”
“What?” Yaz frantically scans the party. “Where?”
Preta points toward the alley. “Over there, the boy in my class led Lurrus and Nala toward the orchards.”
“You absolutely sure this time? I can’t be attacking people on one of your hunches if you’re wrong, especially at Deet’s wedding.”
“Yes! We need to go after them; we’re wasting time.”
Yaz lets go of Preta’s arm. “Stay here.”
Grandpa leans forward toward Yaz. “What’s the rush?”
“The alley—they have the girls.”
“Excuse me, Agna.” Grandpa presses off the table with one hand and balances himself with a cane in the other. “Get Deet, and I’ll meet you in the alley.”
“I’m coming with you,” Agna says, getting out of her chair.
Yaz sprints to Deet, who is in a conversation with an older hunched over gentleman. Yaz butts in and talks with exaggerated arm movements.
Deet points at the cart and then sprints toward the alley.
Yaz reaches the cart and draws his sword and slings his bow. He turns toward Preta. “Let’s go.”
Preta and Yaz reach the shaded alley’s entrance as Deet passes through the bright opening at the other end.
Yaz catches up to Grandpa then runs on ahead.
Preta exits the alley right behind Yaz, and they come to an abrupt stop on the dry dirt road skirting the apple and peach orchards.
Yaz surveys the scene while creeping to the right side of Deet. He grazes the back of Deet’s shirt with a spike and keeps moving forward to the other side of the road.
“That’s far enough, Yaz Penter,” Lomasie says with a cool voice and standing tall under an almost barren peach tree. “And now you can place your bow and sword on the ground and take five steps forward.”
Grandpa and Agna emerge from the alley and freeze for a second as they take in the players.
Grandpa moves to the left side of Deet.
Agna stands behind Preta, who is still in the same spot.
Lomasie points his long, boney finger toward Grandpa. “And you can stop right there, Mr. Penter.”
Preta takes it all in; the town’s orchard is in front of her, row upon row of peach, apple, and pear trees, mostly bare after the recent harvest and the change in the weather. No other townsfolk are in sight, all either at work or at the wedding behind them. To her left along the road is a young man, barely twenty, black hair and cocky grin, dressed in a black suit with a grey armband. He stands near a strawberry patch. Straight ahead fifty paces away, another similarly dressed man, much older and with a short white beard stands next to Lomasie.
Lomasie stands behind Lurrus, and his hand squeezes her shoulder. About thirty paces to the right of Lomasie stands Nala, behind her, Clist, and another young man, tall and blond and also wearing a black suit, and next to both the whistler in his black leather duster. To the far right along the road, another one of Lomasie’s men at the ready, ugly, pitted face and scowling with a pistol in hand.
The whistler’s black duster flutters as he tosses a gold coin to Clist and flicks his chin to the right. “You did well, now leave us and not a word to anyone.”
With a gleam in his eye, Clist catches the gold coin with both hands. He raises the coin in front of his face. He grins, then glances at Preta and sneers. Clist kisses the shiny gold, holds it toward Preta then slides it into his pocket, and he scurries away down the road and disappears back into the town.
Deet sternly points at Lomasie with a shaky finger. “Let them go.”
“And why should I do that, Deet?” Lomasie says in a cool, calculated tone. “Besides, you’re in no position to demand anything.”
“What do you want from us?” Deet says with a slight crack in his voice.
“You know what I want.”
“You can’t have her!”
Lomasie smiles and strokes Lurrus’s hair. He raises his cane, a silver owl fixed on the end for a handle. Lomasie tilts the handle toward Lurrus and presses the owl to her cheek, making it appear as though it is giving her a kiss. “Then we have a predicament. But if it makes you feel any better, I promise she won’t die by my hands. Though if you don’t give her to me right now, I can’t promise the same fate for the other two ladies standing next to me.” He bends over and smells Lurrus’s silk-like blonde hair. He glances up at Deet. “Who, I must confess, both look absolutely stunning today.” Lomasie stands straight and points the owl toward Deet. “By the way, congratulations, I heard it was a riveting service. I would’ve loved to attend, but I had more important matters to take care of earlier before our little get together here today.”
Yaz steps forward and scowls, spit flies out of his mouth as he speaks. “You’re a dead man!”
On the whistler’s face, his wrinkles accentuate the deep-red scar piercing through his thick black beard from just under his right eye and running down to the bottom of his neck. He raises a blade to Nala’s throat, and blood trickles down her neck. “Far enough, now put the bow and sword on the ground as Mr. Lovaine said, or she dies.”
Lomasie gives a cocky smile and nods. “Ah yes, Yaz Penter, anger problems, notorious fool, somewhat skilled with a bow, and a penchant for attacking men at the washhouses in the nude. I agree, I am indeed a dead man, though not by your hands, and definitely not today. Now you on the other hand, that may be a different story, my boy. As I said before, put the bow on the ground, and take five steps forward. I won’t ask again.”
“Awfully confident, you are,” Yaz says, conceding and dropping his bow and stepping forward.
“I am confident, Yaz Penter, great men often are.” Lomasie chuckles. “And my men told me you were supposed to be the stupid one. Very observant, boy, seems you’re much smarter than I was led on to believe, I’ll have to have a talk with my informants.”
“Let them go,” Deet says, pointing and shaking his finger again.
Lomasie sways the owl handle side to side, teasing Deet. “The girl.”
Preta steps forward. “I’ll go.”
Deet thrusts his arm out to block her. “Don’t you move.”
Yaz, losing his patience, eyes Deet.
Deet shakes his head no, and Yaz shakes his head no back with raised eyebrows.
“Enough,” the whistler says. “Hand over the girl, or these two die,” and he shakes Nala’s body.
Lomasie holds his finger out toward the whistler while he still glares at Deet. “I told you, you can’t win them all, Penter, and this one you’ll most definitely lose. One way or the other, you choose.”
Preta takes a step ahead of Deet.
Deet grabs Preta and yanks her back behind him, then he stares at Yaz and shakes his head no.
Again, Yaz shakes his head no, but this time his eyes narrow, and his brow arches as his anger and impatience grows.
Deet glances from Lurrus to Nala and then back to Lurrus.
Lurrus cries though is composed. She tries to smile at Deet, and Deet slightly tilts his head to the side, apologizing to her with his eyes.
Nala stands strong with a stone face that would kill.
Yaz stares at Nala and rests his chin on his chest while keeping his eyes locked on hers.
Nala’s eyes lower and then snap up a second later.
They both look to Nala’s left at the same time.
Yaz slides one foot back while slightly bending his front knee. He gracefully drops his arms to his side with hands open.
Deet sees what’s happening and reaches behind him, gripping the pistol stuck in his belt.
Both of Yaz’s hands turn into his body and shoot out in one motion, releasing two spikes.
Nala stomps on the whistler’s foot, and she dives to the left into a somersault.
A spike strikes Lomasie’s white-bearded man in the center of his
chest, and he falls backward—dead.
The whistler dips left in reaction to Nala’s foot stomp, and Yaz’s other spike grazes the whistler’s right shoulder.
Lomasie calmly cocks his head to the left, his mouth curls into a sinister grin. He winks at Deet as he twists the owl head of his cane, producing a silver dagger. Lomasie slides it behind Lurrus’s back, and he slightly shrugs while never taking his eyes off Deet.
Deet extends his arm toward Lurrus. “No!”
Lurrus lurches forward, still held up by Lomasie. Her sad eyes plead to Deet to save her. Her face turns into a frown. Blood trickles out of her mouth, and she gags.
Lomasie opens his arms wide, letting Lurrus drop.
She falls forward, limp, shaking on the ground.
“No, no, no!” Deet steps forward with his arm still extended toward Lurrus. He growls and raises his pistol and fires at Lomasie.
Lomasie doesn’t flinch, and the shot misses. He raises his cane toward Deet and a small orb of bright-red light shoots out the silver metal tip.
Deet dives to the side, and the orb barely nicks him in the shoulder. His momentum carries him forward to the ground, and he hits his head on a medium-sized flat rock. His pocket watch tumbles out of his pants, clicks open, and the glass shatters.
“Deet?” Preta says, staring at her brother lying motionless.
Lomasie raises his cane into the air and fires a red orb into the sky. “Praetors, engage!”
Lomasie’s man on the left, black hair, young and cocky, runs for Preta.
Grandpa steps in front and trips the praetor with his walking stick while simultaneously twirling his cane over onto the falling man, knocking him out. Grandpa glares at Lomasie, fury in his eyes and his lip quivers.
Lomasie, calm, professional, raises his cane, aiming it at Grandpa. The cane’s tip emits a faint-red glow. The glow intensifies with each passing second. “Goodbye, Mr. Penter.” A red lightning bolt arcs out the tip and strikes Grandpa’s chest.
The crimson lightning webs around his body and propels Grandpa off his feet and onto his back. His charred body hits the ground with a faint groan and a puff of air—then silent—gone.
Yaz drops to a knee, flipping out a spike, nicking a praetor in the arm and sending him to the ground.
Wintermore (Aeon of Light Book 1) Page 14