A Dance Of Death s-3 Read online

  The tip sank further in. He tried to scream, but all he could do was let out a quiet gurgle as he choked. He shifted his weight, but if there was any part of her stronger than her husband, it was her thighs, and she straddled him as she had only moments ago. His whole body began to shake violently. His eyes met hers, and she refused to look away despite the horror she saw. Despite the betrayal.

  “I’m sorry,” she whispered as his strength faded, and he could no longer stop the blade from sinking another inch. Her lips brushed his ear as blood smeared across her bare breasts. “But you aren’t strong enough to save us. Tori needs better. I need better.”

  She stabbed again and again, turning and shredding flesh. I do this for Taras, she thought. I do this for his child. When her dagger revealed bone, she finally stopped. All at once, it seemed the room was painfully quiet. Only her breath broke the silence, that and the soft patter of blood dripping from the drenched sheets to the floor. Madelyn felt something lurking heavy above her, like an animal ready to pounce, but she could not relent. She had to be strong, stronger than Laurie had ever been. Steeling herself, she took the dagger, knelt on the floor, and began to draw.

  Taras, she thought, even as she scrawled the symbol left by his killer. 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’r
e 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.

  “You look like shit,” he said.

  “You look little better,” she snapped back. It was true, too. Despite his apparent lack of care, the mercenary had been a veritable demon ordering around the house guards, and to her shock, he’d even gutted two that dared mouth off, or slacken at their duties in searching the grounds. Both sported dark circles under their eyes, Madelyn from tears, him from lack of sleep.

  “Sorry,” Torgar mumbled, and she could tell he was finally realizing she was the head of the household now. “He can’t be close, but we’ll keep looking, keep searching. I’ll find out how he got in, how he killed Laurie. That’s a promise.”

  The certainty gave her a shiver, and she hid it with a half-hearted sob.

  “Forgive me,” she said. “I have much to do.”

  “Like what?”

  Madelyn took a deep breath.

  “Why, I must inform our guests of Laurie’s passing.”

  She started walking down the hallway, and Torgar joined her in step. He reached for her elbow, to stop her, but pulled back at the last moment.

  “Sorry for the boldness, Madelyn, but you should be resting. Alyssa’s already aware of what happened, I assure you. The whole damn city probably knows by now.”

  Her glare made him take a step back.

  “Hold your tongue,” she said. “I will do as I please, do you understand me?”

  Absently he nodded, and he looked to her as if seeing her for the first time. Scowling, she continued onward. She felt herself balancing on a knife’s edge, and her outburst was a dangerous misstep. If she didn’t play the grieving widow just right, people might start asking questions, might come to certain realizations that would end with her head on a pike, or in chains before the other leaders of the Trifect. Given the respect Laurie commanded from their house guards, even they might turn on her if they knew the truth.

  “Forgive me,” Madelyn said, trying to soothe things over. “I’m still not comfortable with the thought of replacing Laurie, especially when it comes to the Trifect.”

  “Of course,” Torgar said, but he didn’t sound too understanding. Forcing him out of her mind, she continued to Alyssa’s room. She felt her anger rise as she pushed open the door. It was these three who had caused everything, who had forced her to do such…terrible things to her husband. Inside, she saw Alyssa already awake. She sat on the edge of her bed, with the other female servant of hers beside her. Blankets covered up to her neck, and immediately Madelyn could tell she was with fever by the way sweat covered her forehead and the pale color of her skin.

  “Madelyn,” Alyssa said, standing at her entrance. “I heard and…please, I’m so sorry. Laurie was a great man.”

  Madelyn nodded, unsure of what to say to that. Was her husband a great man? Perhaps once. But it wasn’t a great man she’d stabbed and torn to pieces. That was a shell, a disgrace to the strength she’d married. As she paused, she noticed Haern leaning against a wall, his arm and shoulder bandaged. It was him, she thought. He was the criminal, the killer. More than anyone, he was to blame for the Wraith’s ire against her family. Did his symbol, left at Taras’s room, not prove that?

  “Lord Ingram will still be looking for you,” she told him.

  “Let him,” said Haern.

  “I only say this because it was my husband’s last command. He sought to protect you, and so I shall honor that, no matter how much it might sicken me. Angelport is a dangerous place, but at least here, you’ll be safe.”

  “Safe?” said Alyssa. Her face was a calm facade, but Madelyn knew her mind was whirring behind it, trying to understand. It wouldn’t take her long, but still she had to put on the show. It was for neither of them, after all, but the rest of the household, if not all of Dezrel. The Trifect could not be seen killing one another.

  “Yes, safe. All three of you should be safe here.”

  “After last night, forgive me for wondering,” said Haern. “Besides, we must fetch a healer for Zusa.”

  For such a comment, Madelyn wanted to strangle him, but she let it slide over her.

  “I will send for someone,” she said. “Now if you’ll forgive me, I must be going.”

  “And I as well,” said Alyssa. “I have plenty of coin, and I’m sure I can find someone who will not betray…”

  “No,” Madelyn said, her voice firm. Behind her, Torgar reached for his sword, as if he could read her mind. “No, you must stay. I will not have you endanger yourself out in the streets, not when Ingram is looking for any way to strike at us. All three of you must stay here. The Wraith will not get to you, I promise.”

  “Is that so?” Alyssa asked. “How kind of you.”

  “Torgar, assign a guard to watch over them,” she said, her orders as much for Alyssa as the mercenary. “I’d hate for anything to happen.”

  “May I still wander the mansion?” Alyssa asked, but her words were dripping with false sympathy. Madelyn smiled, let the tiniest bit of her victory seep into her voice.

  “I don’t think that’d be a good idea.”

  She shut the door, and Torgar followed her as she left.

  “They’re dangerous,” he said, glancing back.

  “Alyssa is but a child, and the other two are wounded.”

  “Wounded animals tend to be the most dangerous.”

  She whirled on him.

  “Then I expect your men to do their job,” she said. “They don’t leave. Gods know why I don’t just cut off their heads and be done with all three.”

  Torgar stepped closer, and he lowered his voice.

  “So much for honoring your husband’s final wishes,” he said.

  Dangerous ground, Madelyn realized, but she could not do it. Not when it came to that harlot, Alyssa.

  “He’s dead, and I’m in charge,” she said softly. “And Alyssa’s a disease rotting away at the Trifect’s core. They don’t leave that room, for any reason. Have I made myself clear?”

  “Perfectly clear,” said Torgar. He saluted her, his motions stiff and lacking any fluidity. “And may I ask just how long they will not be leaving that room?”

  “For now, just a day or two,” she said. “Once night comes…forever.”

  A guard came from the front door, and he paused while waiting for acknowledgement.

  “What?” asked Torgar.

  “A man at the gate wishes to speak with you,” he said.

  “Go,” said Madelyn. “And remember, I want a guard in there at all times.”

  “I’ll handle it,” Torgar said, suddenly grinning at her. It was so wolfish, so disgusting, she shivered. “Trust me, I got all this under control. What about all the various stuffshirts wishing to give their sympathy? I’ve got them corralled up at the front.”

  “Let them wait,” she said. “I have no time for their false sorrow.”

  Glad to be away from the mercenary, Madelyn hurried to Taras’s old room to once more join her servants. More than anything, she wanted to hold Tori in her arms, shut her eyes, and cry away the last memories of her husband, until nothing remained inside her but a faded shadow.

  The entire estate looked to be on lockdown when Ulrich arrived at the front gate.

  “Let me through,” he said to one of the five guards t
hat stood watch on the other side.

  “No one enters.”

  “I am Ulrich Blackwater, and I am no commoner for you to turn away. Send for someone I may speak with if you insist I remain outside.”

  The guard sent someone off running, and a few minutes later they returned with a giant sellsword in tow.

  “Ulrich, you bastard, what are you here for?” asked Torgar.

  “I heard the grim news,” Ulrich said. “I’ve come to offer my condolences.”

  Torgar turned and spat.

  “How long did I work for you?”

  “Three years, if I remember. It was so long ago…”

  “Aye, three years. How many times, in those three years, did you ever feel sorry for anyone but yourself? You were more likely to cry over your spilled ale than a dead child lying at your feet.”

  Ulrich clenched his teeth, but he kept his face calm.

  “I’ll forgive such rudeness if you let me in. It would be impolite of me to deny respect to such a man as Laurie.”

  Despite the rolling of his eyes, Torgar grumbled an order to the guards. They unlatched the gate and swung it open, slamming it shut behind Ulrich after he entered.

  “Keep it short and sweet,” said Torgar. “As you can see, we’re not in the mood for guests.”

  “I’ve noticed,” Ulrich said, glancing at the guards as Torgar escorted him toward the front door. Every section of the wall was guarded by mercenaries, many who had, until recently, been in his employ. The front door had a man on each side, standing with their swords drawn. Even when he looked to the windows, he swore he saw men with crossbows.

  “Fearing an invasion?” he asked. He’d told Darrel that the Keenans were rounding up every mercenary they could find, but actually seeing it in person was another thing entirely. The place was crawling with them.

  “Something like that. Between Lord Ingram and the Wraith, we’re needing much as we can get.”

  They came inside, and Ulrich found himself on the receiving end of several glares from petty nobles gathered in the front parlor. In return, he bowed low.

  “Gentlemen,” he said, giving them a mocking grin.