Midnight Monster Club

by Gerhard Gehrke

  “About that. Lord Angel won’t be looking for anyone.”

  Hellard let out a laugh.

  “And how is that, exactly?” Isabel asked.

  “It doesn’t matter. He’s gone and won’t bother any of us. It’s only the rest of his family we need to worry about. What about your Jamie? Won’t he help you?”

  She was silent for a moment. “I couldn’t risk his life by showing we knew each other. He kept trying to make eye contact. I can only hope the queen and nobles didn’t see. He tried to talk to me but I avoided him. The queen was keeping him close. She has something in mind with him, I can feel it. He’s in danger. I still love him. I have to save him. But that castle—that woman—today wasn’t the time. So I got out of there with my winnings. But now you tell me Angel is dead. When Jamie finds out about his brother...”

  “Angel had an assassin waiting for him at his townhouse. No one will ever find either of them. No one will know what happened. But you knew he had gangsters chasing him. Others might too.”

  Hellard nudged a chair out with his foot. “Grab a chair.”

  She stood awkwardly and looked back at the door. “I didn’t mean to get you all in so much trouble.”

  “You have your gold watch now,” Digger said. “Congratulations. Be careful out there.”

  She hesitated. “I didn’t buy the watch. At least not that one.”

  Digger noticed she had a large purse clutched under one arm.

  Hellard snorted. “And you brought your loot here? With this gang of criminals?”

  “Why are you here, Isabel?” Digger asked.

  “I wanted to thank you. All of you. I would have died if Angel had caught me. But I was also thinking about what Hellard was saying earlier. There’s nowhere to go but this island for our kind. We can do good if we work together. I bought as many pieces of gold jewelry from the queen’s stash as I could. Those will be easier to sell. The money will help our kind.”

  “You said you worked at the Black Rock Mission. Why aren’t you there instead of talking to me?”

  “I’m not here to talk to you, Digger. I didn’t even know you’d be here. I wanted to speak with Lady Sofia about her bar.”

  Hellard and Monty both started laughing. Digger wondered not only how drunk they were, but whether he was going to need to help his brother breathe.

  Something under the floor thumped.

  Isabel looked down at the floor. “What was that?”

  Digger shook his head with disgust. “The queen’s missing trolls.”

  “They’re here? Those monsters are vicious.”

  “Hey!” Hellard said, grinning. “Watch who you’re calling a monster. Those trolls are quite docile once you feed them.”

  “And what did you feed them?”

  “You remember Angel’s two companions who we grabbed?”

  “You didn’t.”

  The ogre’s grin only got wider.

  Lady Sofia cleared her throat and got up. “I’ve got a fresh basket of eggs in back, some peppers and onions. Monty, let’s go make some omelets. That’ll soak up some of the booze. After we eat, I’m taking Isabel up to my office where we can speak in private away from you clowns.”

  She took Monty back through the swinging door to the kitchen.

  Hellard drained his beer and then did the same with Monty’s abandoned, half-finished cup. “I don’t know if that was a euphemism or not, but I hope they’re actually making something to eat.”

  Isabel peered behind the bar where the stable girl slept.

  “That’s Vinca,” Hellard said. “She’s with me. Poor little thing is all tuckered out.”

  “I see. Actually I’m surprised to find both of you here. I thought perhaps Lady Sofia wouldn’t like having you back in her place after everything that happened.”

  The ogre appeared to sober up. “Maybe it’s time for a change of venue. We’re doing a lot of talking with a pureblood listening in.”

  Digger sat between them. “My brother trusts Sofia. That’s good enough for me.”

  Isabel joined them and leaned back on her chair. “Where does that leave you guys? Are both of you staying on the island?”

  “It’s a terrible idea,” Digger said. “If what you say is true, you’ll have a family of nobles who want to see you punished. Hellard here has the Karanog gang looking to kill him. My brother and I both barely escaped the catacombs. I don’t believe the queen or the sheriff is going to forget about us and leave us alone. And now there’s two trolls in the cellar.”

  Isabel shook her head. “How did they even get down there?”

  “There’s a reason you’re sitting next to a half-naked ogre.”

  “I thought I smelled fish and maybe...something else. I just didn’t want to comment. Why are you sticking around, Hellard? It doesn’t sound like anyone wants to join your rebellion.”

  The ogre grinned. “I’ve got some things to think about. Maybe I just came here for the card game. Sit tight. I’ll refill the pitcher and then we can solve all our problems.”

  Chapter Forty-Eight

  DIGGER FELT LIKE HE had anvils attached to his legs as he trudged up the steps towards the fifth floor of his apartment building. The dirty nickel, indeed. He ached. The events stretching from when he had interrupted Monty’s card game at the Dragon and Rose up to his early-morning sit-down with Monty, Hellard, and Isabel kept replaying in his mind.

  “Fools. We’re all fools.”

  He hadn’t realized he had stopped until someone brushed past him heading downstairs. Two someones.

  “Hi Digger!” one of the two boys said. It was one of his neighbor’s sons, a dark-green youth with black eyes and a bright smile.

  He offered a wave. Their mother wouldn’t like them talking to him.

  “Mama says you owe her two silver.”

  “And why is that?”

  “She cleaned up your place, did your wash, and left you some beans and hominy. She also wanted me to tell you not to leave your cart by the stairs.”

  “Thank her for me, Adan.”

  But Adan was already gone, shouting after his brother. It was Sunday, so no work at the factory for either boy. As he approached his door he could see sunlight illuminating the tops of the nearest tenements.

  Stumpy waited for him. The crow cawed once and stared intently.

  Digger fished a pair of walnuts from his pocket. He cracked them and laid the nutmeat out for the crow to pick at. He watched the bird for a moment as it messily tore at the offering.

  “You’re going to have to learn to care for yourself.”

  The crow ignored him until it was finished eating. Then it took off and flew to the top of the closest building where it landed near several other crows.

  People were moving in the courtyard below. Digger looked down, expecting to see more children out or neighbors on their way to Sunday worship, but instead saw Diregloom guards.

  The bootsteps coming up the stairs weren’t hurried and it only sounded like one person. Digger waited by the front door of his apartment. At least out in the hallway there’d be room to maneuver.

  The sheriff appeared. He wore his signature green hat and cudgel and was alone. He spoke softly as if not to be overheard. “By the by, you did quite well for yourself yesterday.”

  “You were there?”

  “I wasn’t provided tickets. Besides, the games aren’t my cup of tea.”

  Digger kept an eye on the sheriff’s every movement. “It’s your system of justice. Shouldn’t you witness the outcome?”

  “This island sees an interesting intersection of the duke’s law and whatever Queen Claudia decrees.”

  “You handed me over to be executed in her games. Sounds like you’re on board with it.”

  The sheriff raised an eyebrow. “You would have faced the rope for attacking me.”

  “And now I’ve been pardoned. What do you want?”

  “Your pardon covers your assault on a pureblood. Not murder.”

&n
bsp; “What murder are you talking about?”

  “Do you have more than one to confess to?”

  Digger spread his arms wide. Gestured towards his apartment door. “If you have an accusation, you’d be arresting me. This is my place if you want to search it.”

  “Don’t mind if I do.”

  The sheriff led the way inside. He made a cursory inspection of the apartment, which took only a minute. He lingered as he examined Digger’s stringless mandolin.

  Digger leaned in the doorway. “Maybe if you tell me what you’re looking for, I can help.”

  “The magister that vanished two years ago—one of his last signatures was on a forfeiture order to a restaurant. Two owners, one fel, one pureblood, but the pureblood wouldn’t sign off on the new title so the property was seized. There was an incident of not quitting the property and resisting arrest. The magister’s notes were vague. Apparently there was a buyer who also went missing. The magister mentions two sons of tainted blood. Halfbloods. Like yourself.”

  The sheriff paused, perhaps expecting Digger to fill in any blanks. But Digger knew this game. He kept quiet.

  “Stockade records show both the owners were executed for assaulting the city guards who served the eviction. I could only imagine how upsetting this would be to their sons, watching their parents hang, and then losing what sounds like a successful restaurant business because of the duke’s edict on fel property ownership. Seems like it would have been simple for the fel party to sign over to the pureblood spouse, but the notes don’t go into such detail.”

  Digger was clenching his jaw.

  “Unfortunately the Loom Island guards aren’t fond of record-keeping. For most of the guards it’s hard to tell who is who among your kind. They view your people as one homogenized problem to be handled. The law, however, treats everyone as an individual.”

  “Is there a question here for me?”

  The sheriff had the mandolin in his hands and was continuing to admire it. “These two boys would have motive to carry out an act of vengeance on the official who caused their parents’ death. I seem to recall at the bar where we first met that someone there knew how to cook.”

  “Plenty of people do. You say this magister is missing. But then you say he was murdered.”

  “A court official who might or might not have been involved in suspicious activity disappearing along with his two guards, all preceded by the pureblood owner of a restaurant also vanishing? This smacks of foul play. Your pardon doesn’t cover you for capital crimes you haven’t yet been charged with.”

  “I’m but a humble citizen at your disposal. If I’m to be arrested, then I’m not resisting.”

  The sheriff studied him for a moment. “Of course. But if you were, I wonder if I would be able to do much about it. I also wonder, judging by your footwork displayed during our altercation, what would have happened if you had been armed with something more potent than a shovel. Would we even be having this conversation? But I digress. My investigation is ongoing. Now I know where to find you. And your brother? Did I hear right that he was one of the contestants and he also survived?”

  “He and I don’t see much of each other.”

  “Fair enough. I’m sure I’ll turn him up.” He produced a handkerchief and coughed. “The bad air does tend to cling to this level. Maybe if you had retained some of your winnings, you could afford better accommodations. I’m sure I’ll be seeing you again, Mister...?”

  “Digger. Call me Digger. Surely you already figured out where I work. And don’t worry, I’ll be around. Because everyone sees me eventually.”

  Epilogue

  QUEEN CLAUDIA THE SECOND relieved her attendant of the makeup pad and tried her own hand at blending the foundation over the lines at the sides of her eyes. The dark marks beneath them were suitably covered, but bad sleep after a week’s preparation for the games and two long days presiding over the festivities had taken their toll on her skin. She checked her face a final time and put the pad back in its gold case.

  Sunday wasn’t fun day.

  She had guests to see off, mundane duties she had postponed. But first, church.

  The bells tolled. These were her least favorite, brightly melodic but tinny. The tune the chimes in the Loom Island steeple played was set to a dreadful Third Scripture parable about a pair of birds which abandoned their fledgling baby that refused to learn to fly. Paying the clock keeper to change the song was on her to-do list.

  But not today.

  She hurried down the stairs. Her dutiful steward fell in behind her. Whether he ever slept, she didn’t know.

  “My queen...” he prompted.

  “No time, Rochus. I managed to oversleep and I’m late.”

  “Viscount Ilario was hoping to speak with you before he departed.”

  She stopped at the bottom newel and cocked her head. “What? He’s supposed to accompany me this morning to church. Where is he?”

  “I persuaded him to wait in the tearoom. He almost left at dawn.”

  “Why didn’t you wake me?”

  Rochus dipped his head. “My apologies. Your orders.”

  Her Sunday gown wasn’t made for hurrying. Her outfits from the previous days’ activities had been surprisingly lightweight and able to handle the many stairs of the catacombs. But today she hadn’t been expecting to do more than step in and out of her carriage.

  “My dear viscount,” she said as she glided into the tearoom.

  Viscount Ilario was dressed in a stark black suit with a white shirt and dangling black bowtie. His face was ashen and stern. He offered her a slight bow, the kind of deference one shows an equal who happens to be sitting in a higher chair.

  She grabbed his arm and led him to a couch. “What’s this about you skipping out early? We were to go to church together this morning.”

  “I’m afraid I need to cancel our plans. I must return to the duke with my report.”

  “But that’s too early. You haven’t had the opportunity to experience everything Loom Island has to offer its visitors.”

  He sniffed. “I’ve experienced quite enough.”

  “What’s changed? My dear Ilario, you can talk to me.”

  “The bloodshed yesterday. It was too much.”

  “You weren’t at the games.”

  “I heard the reports in detail from those who were,” he said sharply. “A lady of the House of Afonso told me about a pair of noblemen getting their brains battered in by a fel, others dying by sword or club. Something you could have put a hold to the first day of such madness. This is what you have to offer our duke?”

  She dropped her voice. “I was clear with what I have to offer. Some come for the sport, others the story they’ll tell their whispering circles at court, but most come for what they can’t have in Duke Tito’s land. And it’s nothing he has to approve of. But he’ll see a profit from this. I saw the books last night. And before you mourn any of those who lost their lives at the games’ series of upsets, know that I was sure to vet all those who came through. None of them were anyone the duke would ever miss. He’ll have to soothe the spirits of a few mothers and fathers who lost their errant boys to the iniquities of my island. He can rail about it, about the fel who drew the blood of the pure, about me. But Tito’s no fool. Neither are you. Diregloom has a place in his kingdom. And, lest he believe we’ve completely lost our way, you can report that we pray for our souls and honor the sabbath. You can witness this firsthand.”

  He blushed. Had this pious man not heard the bells?

  She continued. “I was hoping you could accompany me to church, my dear. We’re already running late.”

  “I respectfully decline. I’ll be returning to Bahia this morning.”

  “Oh, such a pity. I do enjoy your company. Tell your wife Trisha I send my greetings. She’s a lamb, isn’t she?”

  “You know my wife?”

  “I just finished writing her. Two letters, actually. You and I, we’ve had such a visit together. I’m sur
e Trisha will want to hear all about it. Which letter, I wonder, will be delivered?”

  Ilario was completely flummoxed. He stammered. “You...you can’t.”

  “I’ll tell you what will help me decide which letter will be handed her. Seeing you in church.”

  The viscount didn’t protest when she stood up and led him down the grand hallway to the front steps. The guest carriage awaited. Attendants helped him up and closed the door, and the carriage rode off. Her own carriage pulled up, drawn by a team of piebald horses. The mystery of the missing trolls had yet to be answered and the city watch was searching. But she had only used the trolls for her more dramatic events revolving around the games. Her horses wouldn’t scare the devout, although the thought of it almost made her titter. The decorations had all been removed from the carriage. Wasn’t the sabbath a day for humble reflection and modesty?

  The windows to the carriage were drawn. She accepted Rochus’s hand as she stepped up into the compartment. Across from her sat a red-haired young man in a peach-and-cream suit and polished buckled shoes. He closed his eyes and bowed his head. Claudia peered out the curtain as the carriage got underway.

  “Not too fast,” she called up to the driver.

  The young man across from her appeared uncomfortable as she switched seats to join him.

  “My nephew?” she prompted.

  “Is still missing. One of our agents was waiting at his townhouse and vanished. There was some evidence of a fight. But our spies on the waterfront saw no signs of him or any of the other contestants you told us to watch out for who might be fleeing the city.”

  “The docks are a big place.”

  He nodded. “But Red Eye knew how important this was to you.”

  She patted his hand. “Did my Angel kill your agent?”

  “It’s possible. But if so he managed to hide the body.”

  “That doesn’t sound like my sweet Angel.”