A Dance Of Death

For you, Taras.

It wasn’t hard, the drawing. It’d only been burned into her memory, only haunted her eyes every time she looked to the little baby girl left in her care.

Compared to that, tearing Laurie’s body to pieces was a simple but tiresome measure, especially with only a dagger to do the cutting. It had to match, she thought. Had to be perfect. Everything felt detached, her own actions that of a stranger. Was it really her twisting and pulling until an elbow joint snapped, and the bloody flesh tore free? Was it really her jamming a dagger into her husband’s eye sockets? The tears running down her face, dripping into the innards spilling across the carpet, were the only thing that convinced her she was still human.

At last she stood in the center of the room, her naked body hopelessly stained red, her arms coated up to the elbow with gore. The hours had passed, each one threatening to crush her completely. The heavy weight felt closer, more dangerous. It clung to her shoulders, dragged at her arms, and threatened to tear away her eyelids so she’d see everything she’d done in that horrible room. That detached feeling was gone, though she wished for it to return. Yes, it was her husband that lay before her.

Not done yet, she thought as panic clawed her throat. She slid underneath their bed, stabbed a hole into the feather mattress, and then shoved the dagger inside. In the darkness, she could barely see but for the dim glow of a single lamp she’d lit. Removing it from its hook upon the wall, she set it on the ground so its light would spread underneath the bed. Dipping her hands in her wash basin to clean them, she retrieved a needle and some thread from their closet, crawled underneath, and began the painstaking process of sewing the mattress shut.

No one could know. No one could ever know.

With that done, she put everything away. Taking her husband’s sword from the decorative crest above their dresser, she clutched the scabbard and breathed in deep. With three hits she smashed open a window, then put the sword back it in its place. At last, she was free. At last, she could invite the torment in, let the realization of what she’d done consume her like a brutal fire. Again and again she screamed, letting free every bit of her grief, fury, and loss.

In moments, the door burst open.

“He said he’d kill me if I made a noise,” Madelyn sobbed, Laurie’s horrific corpse held lovingly in her naked arms. “He said…he said…”

Her wail echoed throughout the mansion as guards poured in, once more baffled and furious at their inability to stop the Wraith from killing.

11

The captain’s quarters of the Ravenshade were even smaller than on the Fireheart, but they still had a bed, which was good enough for Darrel. Light streamed in as the whores opened the door to leave. Instead of shutting, and leaving him in blessed silence, the door pushed wide, and in stepped Lord Ulrich Blackwater.

“Least you waited until I was finished this time,” Darrel muttered.

“Two?” Ulrich asked, glancing behind him.

“Been a rough few days. Thought I deserved the indulgence.”

Ulrich chuckled.

“What’s so funny?” Darrel asked. “You think I can’t handle two women?”

“I’m amused you know the word indulgence.”

The captain grinned.

“Ulrich, if there’s ever a word I’m good friends with in this ugly world, it’s that one.”

“Fascinating. Put on some damn pants so we can talk. I’ll be waiting on the deck.”

He shut the door. Darrel scratched at his beard, waiting for his alcohol-filled brain to remember just where he’d tossed his pants before the two women worked their magic on his dick. Finding them behind him on the bed, he pulled them on, tightened the strings, and grabbed a nearby shirt. He was still looping his arms through it as he stepped out onto the deck of his new ship. New to him, anyway, for the diminutive vessel had sailed for many years, and only recently been purchased as a replacement for the Fireheart.

“A real beauty, ain’t she?” he said, seeing Ulrich looking over his ship.

“The best I could do at such short notice,” the merchant said, unimpressed with his sarcasm. “You’re lucky to even have a ship after what happened to my cargo.”

“You know damn well that wasn’t my fault. Three men keeping watch, and they died like they was still scabs. Every one of them knew how to kill, Ulrich, I assure you. Someone don’t want you getting the Violet. That Wraith fellow, maybe?”

“Maybe.” Ulrich bit at his lip, and the captain noticed the way the man’s hands were twitching.

“You need a drink?” he asked.

“I’m fine.”

He pulled a tiny sliver of something green from his pocket, popped it on his tongue, and then chewed.

“So what is it you’re here for?” Darrel asked, crossing his arms. He had no intention of watching his boss take little snippets of Violet, not when he couldn’t have any himself. Every shred of it had gone down with the Fireheart, burning away a fortune and nearly killing him in his sleep to boot. He’d woken by the sound of warning cries and dove into the water just in time.

“Laurie Keenan died last night,” Ulrich said, sniffing deeply. “Killed by the Wraith.”

“No shit? Who’s running the family now?”

“His wife.”

“Damn. What’s that got to do with me?”

Ulrich appeared to visibly calm, and he gave Darrel a wide grin.

“Things are coming to fruition, my dear captain, but we need to ensure everything goes our way. Madelyn’s scooping up every mercenary in the city, and throwing enough gold to break what little loyalty they had to us. We need a counter. I want you to start spreading orders to the rest of my ships, and my brother’s too.”

“What’s that?”

“No one leaves Angelport. I don’t care if the docks fill up, either. Beach along the coast if need be.”

Darrel tried to do the math, but knew that number was way beyond him.

“You’re talking a lot of waste and headaches,” he said. “Any foodstuffs will spoil, and that’s not touching the nonsense we’ll encounter in every damn port we arrive late to, assuming we arrive at all. The other merchants all right with this?”

“They will be. We need as many fighting men as possible, all loyal to us. It’s time this city learned who’s really in charge. Any friends you know, bring them on board. Plenty of men may not consider themselves sellswords, but they’ll still bleed and die for a bit of coin. I want them all.”

“What if someone leaves anyway?” Darrel asked.

Ulrich gave him a pleasant smile.

“Then all nearby ships are to board, tie up their crew, and burn them alive. No one leaves, Darrel. No one.”

Darrel shrugged.

“You’re in charge, so I’ll spread the word. What will you do in the meantime?”

“Why, give the Keenans my most heartfelt condolences for their loss, of course,” Ulrich said, smacking the captain on the shoulder before heading down the plank to the dock with a bounce in his step.

They’d scoured the entire mansion top to bottom, but of course the guards found no sign of the Wraith. Madelyn had spent the night among her servants, red-eyed and unable to sleep. They all thought she was in shock, and they were partly right. But one thing weighed on her mind, and she could discuss it with no one: what to do with Alyssa Gemcroft come morning.

When at last light shone through the windows, she bathed, dressed, and then met with Torgar outside her door. He grunted at her rough appearance.