"Let him go," said Kynyr, a frown of irritation marring his handsome features. "And hope he walks it off without getting into trouble."
"Kynyr"
"No. Finn, he'd probably take a swing at you. Then you'd have to whip his ass and I'd have to order him flogged. None of us want that."
Ramsey stretched out on the bed and then popped back up. "Kynyr's right. Give him some space. I'm going down and see about getting us a bottle of whiskey."
Finn pulled his shirt on and headed for the door. "I'll go with you and see what Nainsi's got cooked. I'm hungry again."
"You're always hungry." Kynyr grinned at him as the mood faded.
"I'm still a growing cub."
"Well, growing cub, bring me something back to eat also."
"You'll tell us the rest of it, Kynyr?"
"Yeah. But I suggest eating first. You won't feel like it afterward."
Ramsey paused at the door beside Finn and turned back to glance at Kynyr. "That bad?"
"Worse."
* * * *
Eideard prowled the back streets, struggling with himself, trapped between his promise to Kynyr; and his unspoken vow of vengeance for Cullen. He could not put his finger upon the point when he had first begun to suspect that Ellie had played a role in Cullen's death; only that he had had a gut instinct about it long before they rode off to Hell's Widow. His anger pulsed hot and then cold and then hot again. He passed an abandoned house on Skull Road, turned back, and stood staring at it.
In an effort to distract himself, Eideard climbed the steps onto the porch of the house and peered through a window, wondering what had happened to the people there. His sharp lycan eyes made out the edges of the furniture. Whoever had once lived here must have departed suddenly, leaving with only the clothes on their backs because nothing looked out of order. Eideard found the door unlocked and stepped inside.
Only the thick layer of dust laying over everything and the odor of mold gave signs of the long absence of the inhabitants. He wandered into the kitchen and spied a pot on the wood stove. The contents of the pot had turned into a dry green dust that made his nose wrinkle.
Eideard made an idle search of the bedrooms. Children's toys lay in disarray upon the floor of the closest bedroom as if they had been whisked away on very little notice. The bed in the adults' room lay undisturbed, the comforters still smooth. He put his face to the spreads and sniffed them. The scents had faded to almost nothing, yet what traces he could catch suggested the people who had lived here had been humans. The bed had huge sturdy posts and a canopy.
A wisp of imagination stretched Ellie Remus on that bed, her wrists and ankles bound to the posts. He thought of how he could make her scream as Cullen must have. The silver spikes had still been lodged in Cullen's shoulder and hip bones when Pandeena brought the courier's remains home. The lycan customs held that friends or family prepared a body for burial. Cullen had had no surviving family; therefore his friends had prepared his remains: Kynyr, Eideard, Ramsey, and Finn. Seeing all of Cullen's broken bones had bothered him as much as the spikes. It sickened him to think about it, and yet he could not stop thinking and remembering both what he had seen and what he had heard concerning Cullen's death. The only comfort, slight as it was, lay in Pandeena's assurance that Cullen had not been rited, that his soul had gone home to the Mother.
"Wergeld is owed," Eideard muttered, recalling Kynyr's admonitions to stay away from Ellie. "You've no right to keep me from getting vengeance for Cullen and wergild for Cooley."
Eideard made his decision, walked two blocks up to Corbie Way, and four blocks west to the Crimson Lady. Lights gleamed in all the windows. The brothel was the only place still awake and busy at that midnight hour. He stared at the doors, picturing the suffering that Cullen must have gone through before he died, and little Cooley without a father. The Sinclairs were good to the cub, but it wasn't the same. Cullen had taught his son to ride; Eideard could see the similarities in the way they rode, now that Kynyr had revealed the facts of the matter to him. He wondered how he had missed it before.
Customers passed him, coming, and going, none of them making eye contact. Eideard sucked in a breath and entered the Crimson Lady. The two greeters in the foyer stood talking to other customers. Their filmy dresses left too little to the imagination, and the lycan's body reacted despite the fact that his taste did not run to dark females.
The scrawny clerk still sat at the desk, meticulously dressed in black and crimson silk, his copper-skin glistened, and a thick layer of kohl lined his large eyes. Flavio wore his long black hair in oiled braids that matched the current Waejontori fashion, and was so conspicuously coshorach that it made Eideard's skin crawl. He had no problem with most men who preferred men, so long as they kept their hands and suggestions away from him. Flavio, however, always had some lewd comment to make whenever Eideard showed up. He wondered if the clerk did the same to the other wolves, and resolved to ask his friends if they had been subjected to it also, or if Flavio simply singled him out for attention. If Flavio had been lycan, Eideard would have called him out, and either beaten him bloody or put a knife in him. As it was, the wolf had to take a strong hold on himself to deal with Flavio, since he had to go through the clerk to reach Ellie.
Eideard went to the desk.
Flavio grinned at him. "Back for more?" He winked at Eideard. "You know what they say about lycan dogs?"
"I don't want to hear it."
Flavio's grin widened, as if he enjoyed his bit of play. "That your appetites and stamina is second only to the sa'necari and that you have the biggest cocks of all."
The hair rose on Eideard's neck. After tonight, he would not dare to return to the Crimson Lady, and he yielded to a fey urge. "I'm here for the bitches not the dogs. One more remark from you and I'm going to break your bloody neck."
Flavio winced and went business-like. "Anyone in particular?"
"Ellie Remus. I was told she'd be available after midnight."
"You're in luck. Ellie is free. However, her prices have gone up."
Eideard reached in his pouch and brought out two gold nobles, four month's pay that he had managed to save up for this trip to Hell's Widow, and slid it across the desk at the clerk. If Kynyr had not been picking up the tab for their drinks, most of that would have already been spent. "That enough?"
"Certainly. Shall I have someone show you upstairs?"
"I know the way."
Eideard walked through the brothel, outwardly calm and easy, inwardly a spinning top of turmoil. He had arrived without a plan, but he had begun to formulate one since leaving the derelict house. The wolf rapped twice on the door, pushed it open, and walked inside. Ellie Remus stood near the window, gazing out, and turned at the sound of his arrival. "Hello, Eideard. I haven't seen you in a while."
"I've been busy." His gaze roved her fragile body, seeing how Cullen could have fallen for her so hard. All of his friends, including Kynyr, had been with her at least once. Ellie was popular with all the lycans, one of only four working at the Crimson Lady as whores, and it had not surprised Eideard that her prices had gone up.
She wore a filmy robe with a loosely-tied sash. The front gaped enough for Eideard to see the edges of her dark rose-colored nipples. Ellie tugged the sash and the robe fell open, revealing everything that so delighted the male eye. She sashayed up to him, pressed her body against his, and stroked his bone. "My, you're so big and hard."
Eideard closed his eyes, sucking air in long deep draws. His arm shot out, crushing her to him. "Make a sound, and I'll kill you."
"What have I done?"
Her eyes went wide, so like a frightened doe's that it shook Eideard. He clutched at his resolve to steady himself to the task. "You know what you did."
"This is about Cullen isn't it? Whatever Silkie told you, it's a lie."
"I haven't spoken to Silkie. Kynyr did."
"But"
"Claw sent us."
All the strength seemed to drain out of h
er; all the fight what little she possessed to begin with vanished, replaced by a helpless resignation. "I told them he would."
Eideard resisted asking the obvious question, wanting to get her out of the brothel first. He guided Ellie to a chair and sat her down. He took spellcords from his pouch and a gag.
"What are you doing, Eideard?" Ellie asked in a tiny voice thick with fear.
"Depends. You call out for help and I'll have a blade in your belly before they get here. It's an ugly way to die."
"I know." Ellie shuddered, but did not resist as Eideard spellcorded her wrists to prevent her shape changing, bound her hands behind her back, and shoved a gag in her mouth.
He went through her belongings. Several items of clothing must have cost more than a year's pay for a guardsmon like himself. It sharpened his belief that Ellie was being well-paid for more than just betraying Cullen. He spotted her jewelry box on the dresser and opened it. The wealth in gems and precious metals took his breath away. "What are you still doing here if you've got all that?"
Eideard dipped his hand into the treasures and started shoving it all into his pouches. This would provide for Cooley well. Toward the bottom he found two rings that made his stomach clench: Cullen's rings. "Damnit all, I was right."
Eideard shifted to his hybrid form, threw Ellie over his shoulder, and went to the window with her. He poked his head out and looked at the roof of the veranda that circled the brothel, gauging whether it would hold his weight.
As he climbed onto the roof, Eideard scanned the yard. Ellie's window faced the rear gardens and there was no one about on this side of the Crimson Lady at midnight. He edged along it and when he reached the end, he jumped to the ground and ran into the darkness with her. Half a block from the brothel, he slipped into an alley and kept off the streets until he reached the abandoned house on Skull Road.
He carried her into the bedroom, and threw her down on the bed. Untying her hands, he left her wrists spellcorded and fastened them to the posts. Eideard did the same with her ankles, and only after he had her securely bound did he take the gag out.
Ellie whimpered and Eideard could see the tears glistening on her cheeks in the moonlight.
Eideard pulled a chair up and sat down beside the bed. "How much did they pay you to drug Cullen?"
"I didn't" Ellie flinched at the rage in Eideard's eyes a moment before he backhanded her across the face.
"How much gold does a mon's life cost? You knew they were going to kill him."
"I didn't know. They said they wanted to talk to him."
"Bullshit." Eideard hit her again, splitting her upper lip. "Lie to me again and I'll cut you open. You're not stupid, Ellie. You stole Cullen's rings. You wouldn't have done that unless you knew he wasn't coming back."
"Damn you, Eideard!" Ellie's face crimsoned into a mask of anger. "Damn you! You think I liked opening my legs to that little bastard? I hated it when that undersized freak climbed onto me." She spat, landing a glob on Eideard's cheek.
Eideard wiped his cheek off and smashed her in the nose, breaking it. "Don't call him that!"
"That's what Cullen was! A goddamned freak. Yes, I knew they were going to kill him. I told them put the blade in his belly. Give him the Weems' Cure, I told them. Satisfied?"
The sheer hatred in Ellie's voice sent hair sprouting along Eideard's arms. "He was a good wolf."
"How can you say that? You didn't like him any better than I did. You told me so yourself."
Eideard flinched, guilt and shame flooding his face. "I learned different. Who killed him?"
"They'll kill me."
"I'll kill you." Eideard pulled his knife and pricked her belly.
Ellie released a long shriek, followed by broken sobbing. "Heironim Traxton."
"Who's that?" Eideard dragged the knife along her thigh, splitting the skin.
She flinched and writhed as Eideard cut her again. "Owns the Green Sheaf."
"Tell me how they killed him? About the spikes."
"They nailed him into a chair."
The encouragement of Eideard's blade brought the full description of the sordid affair from Ellie. It confirmed everything that Kynyr had told them. His face grew flush with rage.
Eideard unfastened his pants just enough to get his engorged bone out, without removing any of his clothing, not wishing to contend with unlacing his armor. "I paid for one last ride, whore, and I'm going to get it."
"They'll kill you, Eideard. They'll kill you for what you've done."
"Maybe." Eideard climbed onto the bed and settled between her legs. "Cullen loved you told me he wanted to marry you."
"I'm sorry, Eideard." Her tone softened, became pleading, filled with helpless femininity. "I'm sorry. Please believe me."
A haunted look entered Eideard's eyes. "Did he scream when they stuck him in the belly? Or was he too far gone already?"
Ellie whimpered and tears rolled from her eyes. "Please, don't."
He shoved his cock into her. Terror had left her vagina dry as a bone, but Eideard did not care. He hurt her, thrusting as hard and fierce as possible. "Did he scream?"
"Yes. Yes, he screamed. Oh, gahds, Eideard. Please stop."
Eideard pumped his way to a climax that did nothing to alleviate his rage. He pushed off her when he finished, and removed his tunic. Eideard tossed his tunic onto the floor, and drew his knives. It would be easier to wipe the blood off his chain than get it out of his tunic.
"Let me go, Eideard. Please let me go. I'm sorry. I'm very sorry about Cullen."
"Cooley's an orphan because of your treachery, whore."
"I'm sorry. I'm sorry." Her pleading broke off in a scream as Eideard plunged his knife into her belly with a yank to the side.
Eideard climbed off the bed, leaving the blade inside her. "Now you know how he felt."
"You bastard! Bastard!"
"You deserved it."
"Oh gahds gahds it hurts." Ellie writhed in pain, tears flowing harder over her face.
Eideard regarded her, his lips twisted in distaste. Part of him wanted to leave her there, let her die slowly. Caution demanded that he finish her. He had to get back to the inn before Kynyr sent the others looking for him.
He jerked his blade from her body, grabbed her nipple, and pulled her breast to the side to give him easy access to her heart. Eideard drove the blade into her and raked it around, ripping the organ. Blood spurted on him. Ellie shuddered and went still, her eyes staring sightlessly at the canopy of the bed.
Eideard pulled his knife, cleaned it on the bedspread, and used a corner of it to wipe his chain. He backed away from her, shaking so hard that it took him several tries to get his blade into the sheath. The enormity of what he had done caught up to him. He had never killed a bitch before and never killed except in self-defense. Regardless of what Ellie had done, this had been murder. Plain and simple.
He fumbled with his tunic, struggled into it, and fled out the back door into the alley behind the house. Disoriented and dizzy, swept up in a physical reaction worse than any he had ever had before to killing, Eideard found himself staggering and stumbling by the time he reached the yard of the Three Candles Inn.
Taking several deep breathes to steady himself, Eideard slipped in through the kitchen door and forced a steadiness into his stride that he did not feel. He reached the rented room, got undressed and slipped into bed with Ramsey.
* * * *
Dorjan's four units began slipping out of Hell's Widow at midnight. They would reach the rendezvous point by dawn and move into position from there.
CHAPTER EIGHT
WAYS OF RAGE
Caimbeul threw the blanket off and sat up. His back ached from sleeping wrong. One night on Pandeena's sofa, enduring her litanies about Kynyr Maguire, had convinced Caimbeul that the sooner he moved into the Lawgiver House the better. He had begun to fantasize about slamming his fist into Kynyr's face as soon as they were introduced. Time away from Pandeena would, he hoped, allow his temp
er to cool down before Maguire got back from Hell's Widow. Taking an apparently undeserved swing at someone as popular in the village as Kynyr Maguire would not help his reputation any.
He straightened his clothes as he stood up and crossed the room to dig in the cabinet where he had seen Pandeena put that bottle of whiskey last night. Jerking the door open, Caimbeul ran his gaze across stacks of plates, glasses, cups and saucers, but found no bottles of anything that resembled liquor.
"Damnit. She hid it." Annoyance fired his blood and he stomped out of the apartment into the little garden, rubbing at the sleep lingering in his eyes. He walked around the side of the shrine.
The broad dirt path into the center of the Sanctuary opened up before Caimbeul. Lycans who worked at the camp had already begun to arrive. He knew that some of them lived there, having been given food and shelter in addition to their meager wages. Fifteen young males were scattered across the open ground in little groups, some of them sitting under the trees, others standing. They all took note of him, sizing him up at a glance. The air felt pregnant with threats and suspicion.
Caimbeul's mind raced through all the possibilities for the attitude he perceived among them. It could have come from the fact that he was the new lawgiver. It might have been because he spent the night with Pandeena, although he doubted that they would credit it if he told them that he had slept on the sofa and not in her bed. Young wolves tended to think with their genitals instead of their brains at times especially those from the lower classes and all of those present were definitely members of the bottom rung of lycan society. The third possibility bothered him the most and he could not really say why: they knew he was the wolf who had been known as Fireborn Law in his youth. That double-edged sword called reputation cut two ways. Caimbeul knew that he needed to feel out people in the village, learn things, and become acquainted with the citizens discover the nature of the dichotomy he sensed at work in Wolffgard. He had to learn before he acted, pick his battlefields before he fought whatever he might find himself up against. There was still too much that Pandeena had not told him or perhaps it was simply that she was not aware of it.
Janrae Frank - [Lycan Blood 02] - Fireborn Law Page 12