Midnight Monster Club
Page 1
Contents
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-Two
Chapter Twenty-Three
Chapter Twenty-Four
Chapter Twenty-Five
Chapter Twenty-Six
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Chapter Thirty
Chapter Thirty-One
Chapter Thirty-Two
Chapter Thirty-Three
Chapter Thirty-Four
Chapter Thirty-Five
Chapter Thirty-Six
Chapter Thirty-Seven
Chapter Thirty-Eight
Chapter Thirty-Nine
Chapter Forty
Chapter Forty-One
Chapter Forty-Two
Chapter Forty-Three
Chapter Forty-Four
Chapter Forty-Five
Chapter Forty-Six
Chapter Forty-Seven
Chapter Forty-Eight
Epilogue
Copyright © 2020 Gerhard Gehrke
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, copied in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, or recording, or otherwise transmitted without written permission from the publisher. You must not circulate this book in any format.
Published by Lucas Ross Publishing.
Author website: gerhardgehrke.com
Edited by Brittany Dory at Blue Minerva Copyediting
Cover Design by Abbyanna.com
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, brands, media, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to similarly named places or to persons living or deceased is unintentional.
Midnight Monster Club
by
Gerhard Gehrke
Fallen Rogues Book One
Chapter One
Monsters Wanted!
Ogres, fel, and goblins welcome for poker game. Tonight only.
Dragon and Rose gastropub.
Ask for Monty.
DIGGER STARED AT THE crumpled bill in his hand in disbelief. The torn brown page had been posted on the market board between notices of workers needed and goods for sale. He squinted as he reread it.
What was Monty thinking? He stifled a curse. His brother was going to get himself killed.
He grabbed his two-wheeled cart and pushed it across the gravel lot as fast as he could. The wheels crunched as he maneuvered it towards the wide avenue that would take him from the slums to the Temperance District.
A card game? Really?
The more he thought about it, the angrier he became.
He and Monty had been safe for so long. What was Monty doing sticking his head up now?
He wasn’t thinking, that was certain, Digger decided. Not thinking had gotten them into trouble in the first place and had cost them everything.
The shovel in the cart bounced and rattled beneath the white tarp. The street transitioned to gray cobblestone damp with moisture from the thick fog that clung to the upper levels of the tenements.
Diregloom. The city lived up to its nickname, from its rooftops down to its sewers. On which level did its soul reside? All of them. None of them. The onetime haven was now a prison for his kind.
Voices up ahead. The five guards weren’t quiet as they headed towards him. They held lanterns and their faces were concealed by scarves or bandanas worn around their mouths. Their metal helmets and brooches for their cloaks shone orange in the light.
The first guard, a short man, raised a hand. “Halt. Where are you going with the cart? At this hour?”
A second guard who had his black bandana pulled down to his neck leaned in close. “Hey, you’re no pureblood. He’s fel.”
Another man of the watch was coughing and he spat before peering at Digger. “You’re right. Jawline. Brow. Show us your teeth.”
Digger sighed and opened his mouth.
“Are you sure?” the short guard asked.
The coughing guard circled Digger once before holding his lantern up. “Look at those lower teeth. And then the orange cast to eyes like a cat. Dead giveaway. See the hint of green on the skin? Hard to notice in this light. But it looks like we have a fel out after curfew.”
The guard with the black bandana prodded him in the chest. “It’s after second watch. Care to explain yourself?”
“Careful,” the short guard said with a snicker. “You’re going to make him mad.”
Digger stood dead still. “I’m on a job.”
The short guard slugged him in the gut. The blow wasn’t unexpected. He had been through the routine more times than he could count. He doubled over and groaned.
“You know how to address your betters.”
“I’m on a job, sir. Body down at the Thirsty Seven Club. On Prudence Street. A notice was served to the graveyard.”
Grunting, the guard threw back the tarp. “Grave duty?”
“That’s what the cart’s for. Sir.”
The others chuckled.
The guard slapped him. Digger took the blow and met the guard’s eyes for a moment before bowing his head. The guard wiped his gloved hand on the tarp before straightening his cloak.
“Mouthy wretch. Off with you. Next time identify yourself.”
Digger kept his head low for a moment before rising. He pushed the cart away. The Dragon and Rose wasn’t far from the Thirsty Seven. But the guards might follow. And having a body in his cart was an excellent way to avoid further harassment.
DIGGER CARRIED THE bundled corpse down the back stairway. The scrawny young man couldn’t weigh more than a hundred pounds. Even with the heavy makeup, Digger could see the signs of hunger, drugs, and abuse.
A sharp-eyed crone watched him as he shuffled past with his burden. She followed him to his cart. A few other women were peering out the windows but turned their heads when he looked up at them.
The crone gave him a tencoin and made no comment as he covered the body with the tarp. What else was there to say? Another unknown body for the pauper’s grave. If anyone would mourn, it would be in private. Few visited the place where Digger would take him. The poor soul was now invisible.
For the next few hours they would be invisible together.
The crone disappeared up the back steps. A distant bell tolled twelve.
He turned his cart and started to hurry. The job had taken too long. The Dragon and Rose was twenty minutes away if he hurried.
He had a card game to shut down.
Chapter Two
THE TAVERN SIGN DISPLAYED a dragon sniffing a rose. The two-story establishment was sandwiched between the burned skeleton of a house and a boarded-up bakery. The nearest streetlight either wasn’t lit or was broken. A piece of wood had been hammered beside the entryway which read CLOSED FOR REMODELING.
Digger threw open the door.
A long wooden bar dominated the room, upon which was spread an assortment of food with rich aromas of spices, garlic, and bacon. A scrawny greenskin fel wearing a vest and cravat was picking stuffed olives
off a plate and popping them into his mouth. Two others sat at a table with cards and chips in a carousel case. They held glasses of wine and had their own plates loaded with appetizers.
The vested man stuffing his face barely looked up as Digger approached.
Digger thrust his face down at him. “Place is closed. Get out.”
“What are you talking about?” he asked through a full mouth.
Digger grabbed him by the coat and hauled him to the front door. The man was shouting indignities as Digger turned to face the other two.
“Both of you. Leave!”
They stared with mouths agape for a moment. When Digger took a step towards them, they both hurried out of their seats and ran past him.
Digger followed them to the door. “Diregloom guards are out in force. It’s after second watch, so be careful.”
The three stood outside, bewildered, before fleeing in different directions.
He let the door close behind him and walked along the bar. He was taken in by the colorful platters and the meticulous offerings on each. Clams wrapped in bacon with a cocktail sauce. Cucumber hummus canapés. Tiny quiches. Stuffed peppers. Sprigs of herbs and carved citrus rinds acted as garnish on all the plates.
While he hadn’t eaten since his breakfast of cold day-old soup, the sight made his stomach uneasy. The last time he had seen food like this was at their parents’ bistro before it had been closed by order of the duke. Both parents were now gone. And after what had happened, he and his brother were supposed to be in hiding.
A fel of slight build wearing a lavender frilled shirt with pinned-up sleeves emerged from the swinging door to the back, carrying a tray of brie tartines. The crusted cheese resting on slabs of bread let off a whiff of steam. He set the tray down on the edge of the bar, pausing to push the other dishes to make room. He then spent a moment turning each platter until he appeared satisfied with the arrangement.
“Monty.”
Digger’s brother looked up at him and then at the table with the missing card players.
“Digger? What are you doing here? Where is everyone?”
“I sent them home. Your game night is over. What are you even thinking, posting signs and inviting people here?”
“I was planning on having some fun and making friends.”
“You’d risk your life for a card game?”
“I made food.”
Digger let out a sigh. “That’s what’s going to get you in trouble. How many fel chefs are out there preparing palmiers and endive cups?”
Monty deflated. “The good ones were when there were more of us.”
“Don’t mumble. I hate that. If word gets out that you’re still in the city...”
“I know.” Monty flopped down on a chair and spread the stack of cards around. “But the same goes for you. Why haven’t I seen you in so long?”
“Because I’ve been busy.”
“Doing what? So busy you can’t visit to let me know you’re alive? I kept expecting to see you at the gallows on any given Saturday getting a noose around your head.”
“I’m there every weekend. I just don’t show up on time. I thought you just cleaned up here after the bar closed. What’s going on?”
“The Dragon and Rose is out of business. Lady Sofia’s starting to remodel and doesn’t care what happens after hours. What do you think of the place?”
He hadn’t taken the time to notice that while the walls were partially bare of paneling, the bar itself was new. A massive stained oak slab shone from a fine finish, as did the corner scrollwork. A brass foot bar ran along the bottom. The liquor shelves above the back of the bar had also been redone. The tables and furniture, which had once been nothing but benches and a few long tables of splintering wood, were now worthy of any of the new places Diregloom’s pureblood tourists might patronize. A brass chandelier with a score of burning candles illuminated the bar.
Digger let out a frustrated sigh. “I think you advertising a card game and getting our people hurt is a bad plan.”
The front door smashed open.
Digger turned. “We’re closed. Game’s off. Get out of here.”
A woman with pale-green skin and wearing a dark blue cloak raced inside and vaulted the bar. Several plates spilled and shattered. She ducked down, her eyes wild with fear. She held a cloth package under an arm.
“You’ve got to hide me!”
Monty rushed behind the bar. “What are you doing?”
“You have a cellar?” She was yanking on a trapdoor with her one free arm but it wasn’t budging.
“Stop it. It doesn’t work like that. And you can’t go down there.”
“There’s people after me. I can’t let them catch me.”
“Then go out the back.”
Digger moved to bar or lock the front door, as a stiff breeze from outside was holding it open. As he reached for it, the door swung wide.
A man wearing leathers and a rapier on his hip stepped into the doorway. Not a soldier, Digger decided, but a mercenary or tourist pretending to be one. He gave Digger only brief consideration before pushing past him.
“We’re closed,” Monty said weakly.
“Where is she?”
The woman behind the counter didn’t make a sound.
Monty bowed his head as he approached the man. “No girl in here, master.”
The man backhanded Monty. Monty fell and held up his hands to ward off further punishment.
“She’s here. I can smell her perfume. Felkind lying? Your lives are forfeit if you don’t tell me where she is. Now!”
Digger went to the open door and scanned the street. There was no one else there. Only his cart waited.
He cleared his throat to get the man’s attention. “Back entrance, master.” He moved towards the door to the storeroom and held out an inviting arm.
The man strode towards him, his eyes narrowing.
“What did this woman do?” Digger asked.
“Not your concern, but she’s a thief.”
The back room had just enough light to reveal a few boxes of a food delivery along with a half-dozen wooden kegs of beer. Otherwise the shelves were mostly bare. The rear door had a steel bar across it and several latches.
The man stopped as he studied the door. “Is someone else here?”
“Just us.”
“I was right on her tail. You couldn’t have locked up after she left. I’ll ask you one more time, fel. Where is she hiding?”
“I’m sorry, sir. She’s hiding behind the bar.”
The man gave Digger a hard shove, but not hard enough to knock him down. He feigned a stumble as the man returned to the common room. Digger followed on his heels.
Monty was crouching with fear in his eyes.
The man drew his rapier and rounded the bar. The fel woman was gone. But the trapdoor was in plain sight.
The swordsman pointed at Monty. “You. Open it.”
Monty moved past Digger and opened the trapdoor, revealing the dark space of the bar’s cellar.
“Girl, don’t make me come down there. It’ll go worse for you.”
No one answered.
“Fetch a lantern. You fel are harboring a criminal. You’ll be dancing on a rope on Saturday.”
Monty was trembling. “We didn’t mean to. She just barged in here. Please.”
“You should have told me where she was in the first place. It would have gone well with you then. Bad enough we have to share the streets with you in this city. Share your air. But suffering with your lies? I say—”
Digger struck him across the head with a heavy pewter serving tray. The tray bent from the blow and the man sagged.
“You...dare?” he groaned.
Digger abandoned the tray and grabbed a cheese knife. He drove the short blade through the leather tunic and beneath the man’s sternum. The man let out a wheeze. He looked at Digger in disbelief as if seeing him for the first time. His rapier clattered. He collapsed to his knees and keeled ov
er.
Monty let out a whimper. “What did you do?”
“What I had to, brother. It’s plus one for my cart tonight.”
Chapter Three
“YOU CAN COME OUT.”
Digger waited until the greenskin woman climbed up the cellar ladder. Her eyes went wide when she saw the dead man.
“You killed him.”
“You brought him here.”
“You know what this means for you.”
“I know the law. All fel do. We’re reminded of it every weekend.”
She licked her lips and nodded. “I have to go. There’s a back way?”
“Not so fast.” He plucked the bundle from her arms.
“That belongs to me!”
Wrapped thick in a colorful scarf was another layer of plain paper wrapping. He unfolded it carefully and saw a large round watch made of gold. It had a shining face of pearly white and the numbers and arms were crusted with tiny sparkling gemstones. The second hand was turning and the watch appeared to be keeping time.
She held her hand out. “It’s worth a lot.”
“It’s gaudy. Who’d you steal it from? Who is this guy?”
“What does it matter? It’s mine now.”
When she tried to take the watch from him, he shoved her aside. “This isn’t any pocket piece from a nobleman’s wardrobe. Where’d you find this?”
She didn’t answer.
Monty had to lean on the bar to stand. He was staring at the body on the floor. “Digger? What are we going to do about him?”
“I’ll bring my cart around back. I’ll take care of it while the two of you clean up the mess.”
The woman raised a finger to interject. “Excuse me? I need to get out of here. Give me my watch and I’ll be on my way. I’ll give you a cut of this once I fence it.”
He wrapped the watch in the paper and shoved it into his cloak pocket. “As if we’d ever see you again. I’m holding on to this for now. You’re going to help scrub the blood off the floor. You brought this down on us and you don’t get to just disappear.”
She went for the rapier on the floor. Digger stepped on the blade end.
“You wanted our help hiding you? This is the deal. Once our problem goes away, you get your watch. What’s your name?”