“Why? Who would stop you?”
“You think it’s easy to rule Loom Island? Balancing the needs of my people and my ambitions is a never-ending juggle. Suffice to say, if word spreads before I’m ready, it will upset me.”
“You want the page back.”
She was gripping his hand tight. Squeezing. He fought the urge to pull away. Her hairpin began pressing into his wrist.
“Do you feel it?”
“It’s very sharp.”
“No, silly. Alive. Knowing that another ounce of pressure and I tear your artery open. Doesn’t each beat of your heart become precious? The air of each breath sweeter?”
“Yes. I feel alive and am glad to be.”
She pushed his hand away and giggled. “Off with you. Get my watch back. The page too, you dizzy goose. You’ve made me sad, and I’ll not allow anything to ruin tomorrow’s games.”
He nodded and thought it best not to say anything as he stumbled out into the hall. He hurried to find his horse and leave the castle. There would be no returning into his aunt’s good graces without both the watch and the page of plans. But even as the bleary-eyed stable attendant brought him his mount, Angel realized that he needed to reassess his future in Diregloom.
Because his rich aunt was hopelessly insane.
Chapter Twenty
DIREGLOOM RARELY INDULGED criminals by placing them in carts or on horseback after their arrest. But the sheriff seemed to be making an exception for Digger and Isabel. They were shackled and led to the dock, where they waited until a jail wagon arrived, drawn by a pair of stunted ponies.
Both horses had orange ribbons tied into their manes and the wagon driver wore a top hat with a patterned band. Was the wagon to keep their capture secret or did the sheriff want the extra security?
The guards shoved them inside the cramped space. There they waited as the sheriff and guards conferred with each other out of earshot.
The lump on Isabel’s forehead where the sheriff had struck her had grown large and red. Digger touched her shoulder and she jerked away from him.
“Why didn’t you fight?” she asked.
“I would have lost.”
“You barely tried. And what did you mean when you said ‘friends’ to the sheriff?”
“What?”
“You said you wanted his word that your friends won’t get hurt. What’s going on?”
“Lord Angel was at the Dragon and Rose,” he said. “Hellard and I fought his men. He captured my brother and took him.”
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
“Because I need your damn gold watch to get him back. So what is it about that thing? No thief would go through this much just for an expensive trinket. And don’t tell me you’re willing to risk your life on the chance a gangster will get your revenge on Lord Angel for you.”
She didn’t say anything for a while, just stared out the tiny barred window in the back of the wagon. “Remember I told you about Count Barca’s son Jamie? I received a letter at the Black Rock Mission that he’s coming here to Diregloom.”
“Of course I remember. His father’s out to kill you. And he’s Lord Angel’s brother. How’d he find out where you were?”
She sighed. “Jamie’s not a bad man. He just won’t stand up to his father. I wrote him secretly. Told him where he could reach me.”
“So you’re both stupid. Love does that, I’m told. There’s plenty of fel and pureblood that still live together.”
“Yeah, those who are rich or inconsequential can manage. It’s not just that Jamie wants to come here. We could have figured something out. But Jamie’s got it in his mind he’s going to win the catacombs. To show his father. He wrote he wants to become famous enough that he can defy the duke and marry me.”
“This boyfriend of yours is one of the contestants?”
“Yes. Supposedly he arrived this evening. So not only will taking that watch turn Angel’s gangsters against him, but I was going to give it to Jamie.”
“Why would you believe giving him a prize would change his mind about winning and becoming famous?”
“Maybe you haven’t been paying attention, but rumor has it this round of catacombs is going to be dangerous even for the contestants. I don’t want to see him die, okay? And then when I heard it wasn’t just any prize Angel had taken but the grand prize, I thought maybe if the queen never got it back, the games might be canceled.”
“Hmm. The games are going ahead as planned. Angel is now coming after you and me. And your Jamie is going to be a contestant. But there’s nothing we can do about it now. You should have told me everything a bit earlier.”
She thumped a fist against the wall of the wagon. “I’m sorry for you and your brother.”
“Yeah. Me too.”
THE RIDE UP TO THE stockade was rough and bumpy. With nothing to hang on to, Digger and Isabel were bounced and slammed against the walls and floor of the wagon. A duet of trumpets were playing a jaunty tune. The crowd was as loud as ever as the wagon was drawn through the throng to the stockade gate and into the courtyard.
The driver got down and spoke with someone, but the wagon remained sealed. Digger strained his ears and moved to peer out the window but could only see a wall. Some time passed. The trumpets were replaced with a cacophony of flutes and whistles. A chorus of a song began but this devolved into riotous laughter and shouting.
“The queen knows how to throw a party,” Isabel said.
Bootsteps approached. A guard unlocked the wagon and hands grabbed Digger and hauled him out. His legs were numb and he almost fell as he was shoved towards a doorway off the courtyard. He tried to look back at where they were taking Isabel, but one of the guards cuffed him across the head.
“Eyes forward!”
The tiny room was lit by a lantern on a writing desk with a pen and inkwell. His manacles were attached to a ring on the floor, so he could either sit or kneel. He tried to get comfortable as feeling returned to his legs.
Finally the sheriff arrived.
A guard closed the cell door behind him and then they were alone. The sheriff removed his green hat and hung it on a peg. Then he sat on a stool and began to scratch notes on a piece of paper. He filled half the sheet before he began tapping the pen against the desk and wiping its tip with a cloth. After a moment of fiddling with it, he dipped it into the ink and continued writing.
Digger watched in silence.
Finally the sheriff sat back and considered his prisoner. “This city has a flavor to it I can’t place. Your people are subjects under Lady Claudia. She demands obedience from fel and pureblood alike. Yet as is apparent from tonight, she is celebrated.”
“The people like their parties.”
“So it appears. I apologize for the cramped cell. It places the accused in a stress position. Anyone left chained like that for a few days will admit to most any crime. Unfortunately, it’s the only room I was provided for our conversation. May I fetch you water?”
“Maybe later.”
“Good. To the matter at hand, then.” He removed the watch and unwrapped it. “From Claudia’s collection. Stolen by the young lord, who had it taken from him. And it winds up in the Dragon and Rose at a poker game.”
“Yes.”
The sheriff tapped the pen on the paper. “Who brought it there in the first place?”
“One of Lord Angel’s men came to play and wasn’t put off by playing with fel. He lost his purse, then the watch. Got angry. Nearly wrecked the place before we threw him out. He was cursing us when he left. Said he’d return and we’d all be sorry. Then you arrived.”
“That explains the mess. So which one of you actually won the watch?”
“Isabel did.”
“What game?”
“Five card.”
The sheriff still wasn’t writing. “And what did you have to bet that would cause him to put up something so valuable?”
“Twenty silver tencoins. He was already broke and drunk. Had just
enough for the ante and didn’t want to lose to, what were his words? A filthy greenskin. The watch went on the table. He had no hand and lost. Tried to take the watch back. I didn’t let him.”
“More the fool you for getting yourself into your predicament.”
“A few hours ago, Lord Angel came and grabbed my brother from the Dragon and Rose. He’s holding him prisoner and told me to meet him here, watch in hand. The girl you arrested went along with me because Lord Angel threatened to burn down the bar if we didn’t bring him the watch.”
“Did he now?”
“You don’t have to believe me. That’s why we came for it. It’s not like the city guards were going to help a couple of fel recover a stolen piece of jewelry.”
“I suspect not. And how is it a menial worker who uses a shovel finds himself so flush with silver coins?”
“I know how to play cards.”
“But still, the law is the law. You shouldn’t have fought with the nobleman. And then you should never have come after me.”
“I understand. I can write a confession if that makes your job easier. But you need to let my friend go.”
The sheriff continued to tap the paper. “So it started with a showdown between you and this nobleman. Victor, I believe his name is. You don’t know what happened to him after he rampaged and left your bar?”
“Drank more and drowned his sorrows, I suspect.”
“Your winning hand—what was it?”
“Two pair, queens high.”
Rising, the sheriff pushed the desk to where Digger could reach the paper and pen. “I remind you that I’m not the law here. But perhaps I can give the city guard a push when it comes to your friend in custody. So write your confession and I’ll present it. Is there anything you’d like to add which might give me extra leverage in assisting you?”
“I don’t know what you mean. I admit to attacking a pureblood in the bar. And coming after you. Isn’t that enough?”
“It’s a trite expression, but it’s so often true: baring one’s sins lifts a weight off a man’s soul. This of course might be blasphemy to the ears of others, insinuating a fel possesses anything as sacred as a soul which comes from the Divine. But if you have more to tell, please do so.”
“Why are you here in Diregloom, Sheriff?”
“To solve a murder. It’s a matter which has fallen to the wayside of the city guard’s attention. They’re overtaxed when it comes to complex matters not involving suppressing fel dissent and breaking up fights among drunken tourists. But nothing which concerns you.”
“I’m curious.”
The sheriff took the hat from the peg and brushed it clean. “A magister and his two guards vanished. It was a month after the Thirteenth Edict some two years ago.”
Digger kept his expression neutral. The three men were in the ground not far away from where the missing nobleman from the Dragon and Rose was buried. The magister had been the one who had presided over the forfeiture of his parents’ restaurant. Near them in a neighboring plot rested the pureblood who had purchased the restaurant.
“Loom Island has always been a dangerous place,” Digger said.
“To body and soul both. I’m going to speak with your companion. Compare notes. You can write? Then put your words to the page and be specific. I’ll be back soon.”
Digger was left alone with the desk and paper. He realized his mistake in oversharing. Isabel wouldn’t know the cards of his winning hand or would come up with a different lie. They weren’t going to get out of this.
Then he noticed the crumpled page that had wrapped the watch. He stretched to grab it. It was covered with what at first appeared to be confused scribbles. But the longer he squinted to make out the chaotic notes and lines and labeled circles, the more he realized what he was staring at. It was plans for an expansion of the game vaults beneath the castle. He studied it for a moment longer before tucking the page away.
Someone was coming. From the opposite side of the door, the sheriff was speaking to another.
The second voice was Lord Angel, and he sounded angry.
Chapter Twenty-One
HIS MAD AUNT WAS GOING to kill him.
Her turn had been so sudden, her mood so fierce, that Angel found his hands were shaking as he rode towards the stockade.
Fleeing the island was still an option.
Get away from his aunt, let her rage about the missing watch. The accusation might make its way to the duke’s court, but he’d endured gossip before and the duke wouldn’t bother with such trivial squabbles. He left his extended family to solve their own personal crises.
But even back home he wouldn’t be out of reach of Red Eye. He didn’t believe there was a servant he could ever trust again to not have a vial of poison or a knife meant for him.
This was all that gravedigger’s fault. He and that fel girl of Jamie’s. Curse them both.
At first he hadn’t even recognized Isabel, the night she had stolen the watch. He had been too drunk, too happy, having taken the watch from its display, the end of his debt in reach. Why shouldn’t he have partied? No whore would steal from a customer who was going to spread silver coins her way and risk losing a good client. But then, even after realizing who she was, he had indulged in her presence and the possibilities of torments he might relate to his brother.
But she had been the one who had played him. Targeted him.
It was as if she had known he had his aunt’s prize. But how could she? He had just stolen it hours before. Rochus, the steward, might have discovered the theft. Angel’s companions knew, but they had been partying it up alongside him in their townhouse by the waterfront.
He was missing pieces of the puzzle. He hated puzzles.
The streets were still lively and well illuminated. Too many of the revelers were fel.
Time to focus his anger. Time for the cook he had taken from the dive bar to spill his guts about the gravedigger, Isabel, and anything else he might know that would lead Angel to the watch.
As he rode up to the stockade gate, the two guards out front stiffened. With ribbons on their helmets they looked stupid. He dismounted and wound his reins to a hitching post. Gavin and Hector were waiting for him but had nothing to report. Angel marched past the two guards and went into the stockade. The courtyard was filled with the sounds from the streets beyond but there was no one in the shadowy corridors. He headed for the far building where he had left Marisol and their prisoner.
“Lord Angel.”
It was the sheriff, still wearing his ridiculous hat. He hadn’t seen him there in the shadows. It was as if the man had materialized out of thin air.
Angel tried his best to conceal his ire. “I’m here for the report on my missing friend.”
“Ask the guard captain. I’ve heard no news. I’ve been making inquiries of a different nature. This bar—the Dragon and Rose—keeps coming up. I understand you brought in someone and have him held here.”
“The fel cook who works at the bar. I’m going to have him questioned.”
The sheriff appeared to perk up. “And what line of questions might you have for him? I ask because there may be some overlap with my own work. Missing property.”
“I don’t have time for this.”
“Of course not. It’s probably a minor matter. A bauble taken from someone’s jewelry collection. A watch, if the reports are correct. As you know, the lady of the island has a famous collection of watches. Didn’t we see some on her very arm as she showed them off to the crowd?”
Angel felt ice in his veins. What did the sheriff know? If he had a lead on the watch, then there was hope in Angel recovering it. But if the sheriff found it, it would spell disaster. Angel would lose all hope of returning to his aunt’s favor. And Red Eye would be out for blood.
“My aunt, the queen, entrusted me to handle this matter. A misplaced timepiece from her catacomb prizes.”
“Yes,” the sheriff said smoothly, “I heard something similar. Would you h
appen to know anything about it? Was this a theft? The guard captain assures me they’ve received no complaint from the castle. But my source says this particular prize appeared at the Dragon and Rose the same night your friend Victor disappeared.”
Who else could know about Isabel and what she had taken? None of the fel they had fought would dare talk to the lawman unless they wanted their friend killed. Perhaps the pureblood bar owner had come forward. He’d have to deal with all of them once he got the watch back.
The only other possibility was the gang member his companions had left bleeding out. But surely that wretch had perished. Was the sheriff looking to connect him to a murder?
“What’s the source of your information, Sheriff?”
“A separate crime completely, actually. An earlier assault. So this watch...?”
“I heard the same rumors but my aunt has me helping her. While her watch might turn up as merely being misplaced, if you have information, you’d do well to share. While you’re at it, ask your suspect about my companion. But right now, I can’t help you. I have my own business to attend to with the guard captain.”
“A pity you can’t help. Good luck in your investigations, Lord Angel. My best to Lady Claudia.”
Angel was glad to be free of the man as he entered the guard offices. Marisol was kicked back on a stool near the cell where they had the chef prisoner.
“Did the sheriff talk to the fel?” he asked.
Marisol got up to face him. “No.”
“What about you? Did he ask you anything? He wanted to know about the watch.”
“He didn’t. Angel, where were you? I’ve been here all night.”
“Mind your tone, cousin. This sheriff—he knows something. He’s going to be trouble.”
“We’ve been a little short on that tonight. Why not pick a fight with him and the guards? Maybe we should just hit the streets and start beating up every fel we run into?”
Midnight Monster Club Page 11