BREAKER: MONSTER TAMER BOOK ONE

by Hooke, Isaac

  “I hear monks are the best in bed!”

  “When you’ve grown sick of those two, perhaps you’d like to try me? I do everything!”

  Most of the harlots were middle aged, with the premature wrinkles that seemed to come with their line of work, though they made up for that by painting their faces with enough makeup to suit a clown. That said, there were a few younger hotties among them.

  A few years ago, the Darkness had left him alone for six months, so long that Malem thought he had finally broken free of it. During that time, he had found welcome relief from his troubles here. It had been a pleasant diversion for him, seeing which of the beauties he could bed without paying. He even fell in love with one of them and tried to “save” her from the industry. It hadn’t worked out.

  Some of the women attempted to grab his crotch, a behavior that was new; they must have learned that from the ladies from the east. Come to think of it, there were more easterners among them than he remembered, their olive colored skin easily standing out among the others. Anyway, after the first painful occurrence, he quickly learned to keep his groin area guarded.

  One woman, an easterner by her looks, simply gestured with her hands and mouth, forcing her tongue in and out of the inside of her cheek as she slid her fist up and down in front of her mouth. Then she lifted three fingers on the same hand to indicate the price. She repeated the act three times as he passed.

  Soon it became obvious that Malem and the others weren’t customers, and the harlots let up.

  “You like it here?” Abigail asked Gwen after things calmed down a bit.

  “Why would I like it?” Gwen replied warily.

  “Because you fit right in!” Abigail retorted gleefully.

  Gwen scowled at her. “I’m wearing a robe now.”

  “Abigail,” Malem said. “Can you ease off on her? She just lost her whole village. Show some pity.”

  “Sorry,” Abigail said. Her voice sounded suddenly remorseful. She glanced at Gwen. “I’m a crude ass sometimes, despite my upbringing. I hope you’ll forgive me. You’re very exotic, very beautiful. I’m just... I guess I’m jealous of that.”

  Gwen seemed to regard her in a new light. As did Malem: it took quite the woman to admit when she was wrong, especially when it came to something as innate to a woman’s nature as jealousy. Not that men couldn’t experience something similar.

  “Thank you,” Gwen said. “Though I’m not sure why you’d feel jealous. You have no reason to. Not in the least. I feel so very ugly beside you. I wish I had your blonde hair, and your pale skin, and your sparkling eyes.”

  Abigail smiled brightly, and reached out to grab Gwen reassuringly on her robed arm.

  That particular tension diffused, at least for the moment, the party continued.

  They arrived at a ramshackle looking inn shortly. It seemed little bigger than the bawdy houses nearby. And in fact, at first Malem thought it was one of them, until he saw the name. The Rutting Cat Inn And Diner. Beneath the name there was, appropriately, an image of a tomcat mounted atop a molly.

  “The rutting cat, lovely,” Malem said.

  “I’ve stayed here before,” Abigail said. “They have good prices.”

  Malem frowned. “It’s next to a bar.”

  “Exactly why the price is so good,” Abigail said. “You can book by the hour.”

  Malem suspected she had other reasons to book a room here, namely that she had her own network of spies, or at least King Goldenthall did, and the owner of this particular establishment was one of them.

  “Wait here.” Abigail went inside and returned several minutes later.

  “So, I got a room,” she said.

  “Just one?” Malem said.

  “Gwen rooms with me,” Abigail said. “As promised, you get to stay in the stable with your animals.”

  He crossed his arms. “I was hoping you were joking about that.”

  Abigail smiled sweetly, and shrugged. “I thought you’d prefer it. You want to be close to your animals, after all, right? Come on Gwen.”

  Malem headed toward the back of the inn. He instructed Bounder to walk ahead of him, and once Gwen transferred her hold on the horse’s mane to him, he gently led the animal forward. He didn’t feel like Breaking the animal, and while it continued to obey him, he wouldn’t bother.

  Abigail tossed him a small ring containing two keys. “You’ll need that to open the outside entrance. Neeme gets his own stall, your animals and yourself another. I’ll send Gwen down to fetch you once we’ve cleaned up.”

  10

  Malem led the animals inside the stable. He left Bounder covered up so as not to spook the horses in the other stalls. Still, a few of them were jittery and bobbed their heads, neighing loudly when they saw Malem leading the large form—no doubt they didn’t like the iguanid’s unfamiliar smell.

  He boarded Bounder in a stall well-removed from the other horses, and put Neeme in the next. He ordered Felipe, meanwhile, to proceed to the top of the inn and keep watch.

  Some of the other horses were still spooked, so he moved between their stalls in turn and issued soothing words while relaying calming vibes with his mind. That got the horses settled.

  After locking the gates, he approached the inn-side exit to the stable. He had no intention of waiting for Gwen to come “fetch” him.

  He paused at the opening to transfer his dagger from his ankle sheath to the back of his robe, where he tucked the weapon in blade first inside the tying cord that belted the robe. Then he left the stable and stepped into the common room of The Rutting Cat.

  The room served as a tavern, like most inns in this part of the country. It was empty. Most of the patrons would be upstairs, taking advantage of the hourly rooms.

  Malem lowered the hood of his robe to reveal his face and approached the barkeep who stood behind the main counter, a man who couldn’t be more than thirty, but whose hair was already thinning and going gray. Running a business in this part of town certainly had to be stressful. Malem was about to ratchet up those stress levels a couple of notches.

  The man gave him a fake smile as he approached. “Hello, I’m Hank. The proprietor of this here fine establishment. What can I do for you?”

  “I’m with the two girls who just came in,” Malem said. Presumably Abigail had checked them in under fake names. Too bad he didn’t know what those names were.

  Hank frowned. “She did say there was three of you. But I heard you was sleeping in the stable.”

  “Change of plans,” Malem said. “What room number?”

  Hank shook his head. “She only paid for double occupancy.”

  “I won’t be sleeping overnight,” he said.

  Hank frowned. “You do know this is an hourly inn, right? Doesn’t matter if you’re not sleeping overnight, you pay by the hour.”

  “Fine, add it to our bill,” Malem said. “Now which room?”

  Hank stepped back slightly, as if preparing to reach under the counter for some weapon. “Sorry. I can’t give out the room number until I’m sure you actually know her. How do I know you didn’t follow her in from the street? You spied a girl you fancied, and here you are?”

  Hank’s reluctance to help him out was a good sign, but Malem wondered how far the man would go to protect his clientele.

  Malem casually scratched his side for a moment, pretending he had a sudden terrible itch; Hank glanced suspiciously at the movement. When the man’s eyes returned to his face, Malem shot his arm behind his back and wrapped his fingers around the hilt of the dagger he’d shoved inside the tie belt before coming inside.

  He brought the dagger forward as the man produced a crossbow from behind the counter, but Malem held the blade to Hank’s chin before the proprietor could raise the weapon.

  “Put it back,” Malem said. “That’s right.”

  Hank lowered the weapon, and then raised both hands in surrender.

  “You’re one of her spies?” Malem asked. He still didn’t want to u
se Abigail’s real name, just in case she kept that from the man. Then again, maybe the name she had told Malem wasn’t the real one, either.

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Hank said.

  “Doesn’t matter,” Malem said. “I want the room number. Now.” He pressed the dagger slightly, not enough to draw blood, but enough to make his point.

  “Twenty-three,” Hank said.

  “Second floor?” Malem asked.

  Hank nodded. “That’s right.”

  Malem offered his own fake smile. “Thank you. Back up. Go on.”

  The man stepped away from the counter and Malem reached around to the other side and grabbed the crossbow.

  “I’ll be taking this for now,” he told Hank. Malem stuffed the dagger into the back of his breeches and retreated toward the far side of the tavern. He kept the crossbow pointed at Hank the whole way.

  When he reached the stairs, Malem turned around and took them two at a time. At the top, he bounded out of view of the common room entirely.

  He found room twenty-three, held the crossbow behind his back, and knocked.

  “Open up, it’s me,” Malem said.

  He knocked again. He kept an eye on the stairs as he waited.

  The door finally opened. Wasn’t Abigail, but an elderly man dressed in partially open button-up pajamas. Behind him, lying on the bed, was quite the vixen.

  The owner hadn’t betrayed her room. Another good sign.

  “Sorry, wrong room,” Malem said.

  The man slammed the door.

  A pair of strongmen came rushing up the stairs.

  “That was quick,” Malem muttered.

  He recognized the pair from the bawdy house across the street, where they had been standing guard out front. Apparently Hank had a security agreement with them.

  Malem turned the crossbow on the pair. “All right, that’s close enough, boys.”

  One of the doors on the other side of the hall, beyond the strongmen, opened and Abigail peaked out. “What the hell are you doing? I told you to wait!” She had removed her robe to reveal her form-fitting red dress.

  “Do you know him, ma’am?” one of the strongmen asked.

  “Yes,” Abigail replied. “He went to the wrong room.”

  “That’s right,” Malem said. He ambled forward, and squeezed past the men. “Excuse me, gents.” He paused. “Oh, could you give this to Hank for me?” He shoved the crossbow toward the closest strongman, who accepted it in confusion. “Thanks!”

  When he reached Abigail, she hissed: “I told you to wait!”

  “Just testing the security of the place,” Malem said, and forced himself past her.

  Gwen stood inside a washtub in the center of the room, holding a towel in front of her naked body. Soapy water trailed down the parts of her skin she had not managed to cover. What she didn’t realize was that a mirror on the nightstand behind her gave him a fine view of the goods. Her body had a perfect hourglass shape, and her green back was so silky smooth, from the two scrumptiously round buttocks to the nape of her neck where her damp hair wound down in a thick, silky mass. Her wet skin glistened under the dim light that seeped past the curtained window, nicely highlighting her curves, including the pleasant humps of her breasts protruding from either side of her chest as her raised arms held the towel in front of her.

  Gwen suddenly realized that he was gazing at something past her, and when she glanced over her shoulder and spotted the mirror, she shrieked and frantically struggled to readjust the towel.

  Feeling like a kid caught with his hand in the honey jar, Malem reddened and quickly turned around. “These rooms don’t have proper wash areas?”

  “No,” Abigail said. “It’s a budget inn.”

  “Usually there’s at least a curtain hanging from the ceiling,” he muttered sheepishly as he brushed past. “Guess I’ll be waiting in the stable after all.”

  The door slammed behind him.

  He thought of those fine buttocks all the way down the stairs. He could only imagine what it would be like to have them riding him.

  Why am I turned on by a monster girl?

  He smiled.

  Half monster, he corrected himself.

  He reached the common room, where the strongmen were conversing with the proprietor.

  Hank gave Malem a scowl as he walked past. “You’re lucky she’s a good friend of mine. Otherwise, I’d be involving the city guard.” Hank flicked the crossbow dangerously. At least he wasn’t pointing it at him.

  Malem considered making his way to one of the finer gambling establishments in the area to win some coin with Felipe’s help, like he usually would do, but he was worried about leaving the two women unattended. What if the Black Sword had tracked them down and decided to attack after all?

  Well, said Black Sword was more likely to attack during the night anyway. But even so, Malem felt reluctant to leave them.

  So he went to Bounder’s stall and fed the animal a bale of straw, which Bounder gulped down in a few bites—the creature was omnivorous, like most iguanids. Then he seated himself against the door. As Bounder slept, Malem released his hold to seize control of a bird in the area, and had it replace Felipe on the rooftop. Then he ordered the monkey to steal him a snack, and the monkey delivered the order a few minutes later: salted beef jerky.

  The animal had sated himself on several pieces of the meat before arriving, judging from the smell of his breath and the burp that followed shortly after his arrival.

  “Good job,” Malem said, and ordered Felipe back to his post.

  About half an hour later Abigail finally appeared. She was wearing her robe once more.

  “Finally, you deign to fetch me,” Malem said. “I thought you were sending Gwen? Or is she too shy to talk to me now that I’ve seen her naked?”

  She ignored the question. “We’re going out for dinner, want to come?”

  “I ate already,” Malem said. “But I’ll accompany you anyway. I’m your protector now, after all.”

  “Actually, I only really needed you in the forest because of your mount,” Abigail said. “Now that we’re in the city, I can take care of myself, thank you very much. If you don’t want to eat, then…”

  He got up.

  Abigail frowned. “You’re inviting yourself along anyway?”

  He smiled widely. “Yep.”

  It was late evening by then, and he sensed Felipe’s tiredness; he could have forced the monkey to stay awake, like he had done before, but it was time for the animal to have a rest. He ordered Felipe to the stable, and within moments the monkey was leaping off the roof of the stable and swinging inside the stall where Bounder slept. Felipe curled up next to the iguanid’s maw, and Bounder nuzzled him slightly in his sleep.

  “Cute,” Abigail said.

  Malem raised his hood and followed Abigail out of the stable and onto the street, where Gwen waited. She turned away as soon as she saw him. He couldn’t see much underneath her raised hood, but guessed she was blushing furiously. Then again, maybe she didn’t care. Somehow, from the way she had shrieked earlier, he doubted that.

  When he came to her side, Gwen looked at him and wrinkled her nose. “I hadn’t realized before how much you smelled, but now that I’ve taken a bath…”

  So she didn’t care that he’d seen her after all. Go figure. Either that, or she was just trying to distract his mind from what had happened and pretend nothing out of the ordinary had occurred. Probably a good idea.

  Malem released his hold on the bird he had caught in his mental vise, and freed Felipe as well. He sought out two owls to serve as night watches to make sure that a bunch of Black Sword guards didn’t decide to take up residence in the common room to ambush his team when they returned. He placed one owl on the northern overlook to the building, to watch the front approach, and the other on the southern. The east and west sides had other buildings abutting against them, and were the least likely to serve as approaches.

  He co
nsidered having one of the birds follow the party to watch for unwanted pursuers, but that was always difficult in the city. Owls were designed to remain stationary during their nighttime waking hours, and hunted mostly by sound; they could pinpoint the softest rustling to within one point five meters in both the horizontal and vertical planes, and used their night vision to home in on targets for the final leg.

  In the woods, where everything was quiet, the owls would have been perfect for spotting pursuers, but in a noisy city like Redbridge, especially in a neighborhood like this one that became even more boisterous by night, owls had to rely almost exclusively on night vision. They could detect intruders with great success while stationary, but when moving from perch to perch to follow Malem, they could very easily miss a pursuer; he was better off keeping an eye on the back streets himself. Eagles were another option, but they had their own set of problems.

  So Malem followed behind Gwen and Abigail as they made their way out of the bordello district, and into a neighboring party quarter. He kept an eye on the way they had come, but didn’t see any obvious pursuers. He reached out to the animals active in the vicinity, but most were asleep. Well, except for a few rats crawling in the gutters, but those were relatively useless when it came to spying, mostly because of the terribly low viewing angle.

  Malem paused beside a particularly lively tavern. He got good vibes from the place: he heard raucous singing and laughter. It was a place where people went to drink away their troubles. Something that he had certainly done enough of himself in the past. A sign read: The Happy Grout.

  “We stop here,” Malem said.

  “But I have a different place in mind,” Abigail said.

  “Fine, you can continue on your own,” he told her. “I’ll be here, if you want my sword arm.”

  “They won’t let you bring your sword in there,” Gwen said.

  “Then we’ll find a place to stow it,” he replied.

  Malem backtracked to a side alley and went inside. He found a bunch of weapons lying along the edge of the building where it met the road. “Seems others had the same idea.”