Chaos Bound Page 8

  ‘Yeah? If you find him, tell him he’d better not show his face at work ever again.’

  ‘Did he do something wrong?’ I asked, still examining the fascinating black mould, high up on the ceiling.

  ‘He hasn’t shown up the last two weeks. Left me in the lurch, he did. Had to hire someone to take his place. That takes time and money, you know.’

  ‘Is it out of character for him to disappear like this?’ Crowhurst asked. I lowered my eyes from the ceiling to check Veerdot’s reaction.

  He swiped at his glistening forehead and shrugged. ‘Jonas was reliable enough, I suppose. As much as anyone can be. Sometimes he’d turn up for work looking like he’d been brawling. But he always got the job done.’ He squinted at us through the steam. ‘Who are you fellas anyway?’

  ‘We’re from Blackgoat Watch.’ Crowhurst said. ‘We’ve been hired to find him.’

  ‘And I'm not a fella,’ I added helpfully.

  We walked out of the place after it was clear Veerdot had nothing more useful to share. A cool breeze dried the sweat on my brow and I turned to Crowhurst expectantly. ‘What’s the plan now?’

  Crowhurst rubbed his forehead like he had a headache. ‘I've got an uncle who runs a butcher’s shop not far from here. Let’s pay him a visit.’

  Someone yelled Crowhurst’s name from behind us. I looked over my shoulder, searching the street. ‘Did you hear that?’

  Crowhurst walked faster. ‘I didn’t hear anything.’

  ‘Reuben Crowhurst. You piece of shit.’ A man strode towards us, face thunderous and eyes pinned on Crowhurst. He wore a cloth cap and a baggy shirt with red suspenders. I didn’t see any weapons on him, but noted people around us drawing back, their eyes cautious.

  Crowhurst’s shoulders slumped. He turned. ‘What do you want, Eli?’

  ‘What do I want?’ Eli’s face slid into a sneer as he stopped, a wee bit close to us for comfort. ‘Fancy you thinking you could show your face around here.’ He hooked his thumbs around his braces. ‘Considering the shame you brought on your family.’

  Crowhurst fiddled with the ruby in his ear, looking uncomfortable. ‘It’s in the past, Eli. Let’s leave it there.’

  A few other men appeared and formed a loose ring around us. Eli’s eyes ran carelessly over me, then back to Crowhurst. Seems I had been dismissed as being of no consequence. Fine by me.

  ‘I'm here on business,’ Crowhurst said. ‘I don’t have time to rehash old grudges.’

  Eli nodded slowly, and with a showman’s flare. ‘Of course. Let’s leave things in the past. If you’re wondering though, Sophia is doing just fine. She quite enjoys the life I've provided her, as my wife.’

  Crowhurst’s hands curled into fists. Picking up on his cue, I shifted one of my hands closer to my pouch of Sucker Punch Special.

  ‘What happened between Sophia and me is history,’ Crowhurst said darkly.

  ‘You don’t belong here, Reuben. Not anymore.’ Eli leant forward, voice low. ‘You know you’re going to have to take a beating for showing your face here.’

  ‘Enough.’ I drew my sword and the rasp of metal drew everyone’s attention.

  ‘Are you out of your mind, Lora?’ Crowhurst snapped. ‘Put that away.’

  Eli grinned. ‘Your Witch Hunter friend has drawn steel against me. I believe she has it in her mind to challenge me. Should I be scared?’

  ‘If you make me take this blade to you, you’ll be worse than scared and a long time dying.’ I threw him some dimples and whirled my sword a couple of times. ‘We didn’t come here to fight, but if you touch my friend, I'll start slicing your limbs off.’

  ‘I'm your friend?’ Crowhurst asked, sounding amused. ‘Thought I was a moron.’

  ‘Guess you grew on me,’ I muttered. ‘Like fungus.’

  Eli clicked his fingers a few times. ‘Hello? Attention back here. What business are you here about?’

  ‘We’re investigating the disappearance of Jonas Grundler.’ I stopped twirling my sword before I accidently dropped it. ‘His mother hired us to find him. You know anything about it?’

  Eli exchanged a look with his friends. ‘I know Jonas. It makes no sense for him to disappear.’

  ‘How well do you know him?’ I asked.

  ‘We have a few drinks together now and then.’

  ‘Had he been acting strange of late? Any information you give us could help find him.’

  Eli rolled his thumbs under his suspenders, looking thoughtful. ‘No. I can’t think of anything out of the ordinary he might have said, or done. He’s a good drinker. A good fighter. The last time I saw him, we had a good knock-down fight with a couple of Reapers.’

  Tension drained from the air and pedestrians, who had paused to watch the potential fight, started drifting off with bored expressions. I snapped my sword back into its sheath with a frustrated sound. Another dead end. ‘What was the fight about with the Reapers?’ I pressed.

  Eli frowned. ‘We caught them trying to peddle drugs outside the tavern we were drinking in. The Reaper’s have been trying to infiltrate the Quarter more and more lately, pushing a new drug called rapture.’ His frown deepened. ‘We don’t tolerate that kind of thing here.’

  ‘Why not?’ I leant on my cane. ‘A person wants to get high, they’ll find a way.’

  ‘Not here,’ Eli growled.

  ‘At least, not on your watch, right?’

  Eli threw his head back, barking a laugh. ‘You’re a pretty gutsy woman.’

  I narrowed my eyes. ‘You calling me fat?’

  He laughed some more at this, like I'd been joking. I hadn’t, but him laughing was an improvement on him threatening to pummel us for Crowhurst’s seedy sounding past sins.

  ‘Look. I'm going to let you pass this time.’ Eli was smiling, even when he stabbed a finger at Crowhurst. ‘But next time you show your face, it won’t matter how funny your companion is, you will get beaten.’

  I pulled on Crowhurst’s arm and he came reluctantly, but I knew it was time to get out of the Quarter, while we could still use our legs.

  ‘He’s not going to attack us when our backs are turned, is he?’ I murmured as we hurried down the street.

  ‘Probably not.’

  ‘Didn’t think the Quarter would have such staunch rules about drug taking,’ I said.

  ‘Griorwolf blood doesn’t mix well with drugs.’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘A griorwolf’s control is centred here.’ Crowhurst tapped his temple as we strode on. ‘Loosen your control and you risk releasing the beast. I heard about this drug, rapture. Apparently, it kicks you into the change, but you shift so fast the muscle turns wrong. The body deforms and turns the brain to mush. Not something you come back from easily.’

  Seeing Crowhurst as a griorwolf once was enough for me. I had difficulty imagining that drooling, crazed beast as even more dangerous and out of control. ‘Did you really sleep with his wife?’ I asked as we rounded a corner.

  ‘She wasn’t his wife at the time, and no, I didn’t sleep with her,’ Crowhurst growled.

  ‘What did you do?’

  Crowhurst shot me a sly look. ‘Want to tell me why you were in such a good mood this morning? You were almost humming in the car before.’

  ‘Eh? What?’

  ‘Maybe because of a hot date with a certain Regulator?’

  ‘That’s none of your business.’ I heard my defensive tone and winced.

  ‘There you go.’ Crowhurst sounded smug.

  ‘No fair, changing the subject.’

  ‘Then just drop it.’

  ‘Sure, I will.’

  ‘I mean it, Lora.’

  ‘Fine.’

  Chapter 12

  Gideon arrived early in the afternoon with a dress for me and grandiose claims of once being an accomplished hairdresser. To that point, I hadn’t given Nicola’s party much thought, and had been relieved when Gideon offered to take care of the details. My relief departed after I spied the mutant bridesmaid
number he wanted me to wear. A monstrous vision of frills and lace, its skirt was a flurry of some wretched shiny material that tripped my feet when I walked.

  Now, swaying with the movement of the rented coach as we made our way to the party, I plucked at the eggplant coloured material, feeling breathless thanks to being stuffed ungraciously into a rigid, steel-boned corset. If I had to look on the bright side, at least I didn’t need to suck in my stomach, though black spots danced across my vision when I took deep breaths. The mask was plain and covered half my face. Considering what Gideon had done to my hair, I was thankful for small favours. My fingers crept up to touch the monstrosity of corkscrew curls the satyr had wrought upon me, all topped off with a small hat, adorned with pink bows. I'd left my cane at home, my bad leg strapped tight in a brace I'd smuggled back from the Outlands. As a precaution, I had stuffed a salt pouch down my cleavage, and two throwing knives were tucked securely into the leg-brace.

  ‘You look lovely, Lora.’

  Gideon sat across from me, dressed in a slimline suit with lace ruffles spilling from his sleeves and a mask that bore two horns curled into twin spires above his head. He seemed sincere in his compliment, and it occurred to me that Gideon was completely fashion-blind. I sighed and stared out the window. My vanity had taken worse beatings, so I figured I could withstand the night.

  Ivor Grogan’s country estate sprawled north of the city walls, a half-hour by coach. We slowed as we approached the estate, lining up behind other coaches and the occasional clockwork engine car. A mansion with white pillars hunkered behind the limestone walls, circled by a man-made lake. A lowered drawbridge spanned the water, allowing access to the open front gates, and floating lanterns lit the moat, dots of light bobbing on the water. Our coach rolled through the gatehouse, and from the windows up high, I caught a glint of steel in the waning light. We stopped out the front of the main building, the cabin bouncing on well-greased springs. A porter in a white suit opened my door. He blinked when he spied my dress, then bowed and took a large step back. No doubt he worried bad fashion might be contagious. Gideon stepped out first, then helped me out. My hat bobbed as I stepped down, and the gown escaped from my clutches, tangling around my legs.

  ‘Try to pretend you’re a lady,’ Gideon murmured as I stumbled into him.

  I snatched up my skirts and flounced towards the marble stairs, which led up to the mansions elaborately carved façade and arched doors. Gideon caught up with me and offered the crook of his arm, and I grabbed it for practical reasons. If I tripped down the stairs, the old goat was coming with me.

  We entered a sweeping reception room where the sounds of merriment and clinking glasses drifted through an open archway. Following the flow of masked guests, we spilled into an expansive sunken ballroom. Two women in floating silk dresses immediately offered us sparkling wine. Gideon and I each took one, then descended the stairs and paused to get our bearings.

  The interior was breathtaking. The ceiling was vaulted, with elaborate marble arches yawning towards the sky. A sea of crystal chandeliers showered the crowd below with sparks of light, the warm air a heady mixture of perfume and roasted meat. Soft music was being played by a band of musicians from a low-set platform and feathers and finery swayed on the dance floor. Some guests wore elaborate frocks and suits, while others were in costume, and everyone wore masks of some description. Some masks were grotesque things, with sloping noses and leering grins, while other masks were almost pieces of fine art. I spied some guests dressed in the symbolic clothing of various pagan gods or supposed mythological beasts and it kind of reminded me of a night in Applecross in the festival season.

  A long table was piled with exotic foods: stuffed quail, glistening venison, fleshy calves' heads, oysters steamed in almond milk, and bowls of crimson dragon fruit. Servants carted platters in the crooks of their arms, offering other delicacies to guests.

  Gideon threw back his sparkling wine and rubbed his stomach. ‘I'll go get us something to eat then, shall I?’

  ‘Watch how much bubbly you drink,’ I warned. ‘You know how quick it gets you drunk. Remember last time?’

  ‘I have no idea what you’re talking about.’

  ‘Let me refresh your memory. It was Orella’s birthday and you were doing nude cartwheels by the night’s end, thanks to one glass too many of the sparkling. Something in it makes you nuts.’

  Gideon, proud of his ability to handle his drink, looked offended at the reminder and strode over to the buffet.

  I sipped my drink, and surveyed the crowd. One person I wanted to avoid was Lander, Grogan’s bodyguard. The rat stunt was hopefully the end of it, since I wasn’t working the job with Nicola anymore. The crowd moved like a swelling sea, making me giddy. I didn’t like crowds, and liked masked crowds even less.

  ‘Lora?’

  I turned to see Nicola behind me. Her blonde hair was plaited in tiny rows and a pale gown skimmed the floor. She wore a simple half mask and looked genuinely pleased to see me. Her smile faltered when she took in my dress, but brightened again when she met my eyes.

  ‘Happy birthday,’ I said. ‘Everything looks amazing.’

  Her smile turned shy. ‘Daddy always said he’d throw me the most expensive party when I came of age.’

  ‘Great.’ I didn’t know what else to say. My coming of age party had involved pints of beer and fried chicken at the local saloon. Someone called to Nicola, and she turned to wave.

  ‘I'd better go,’ she said apologetically. ‘I'd love to talk more later.’

  Then she was gone in a swish of material, leaving a lingering scent of jasmine. I sipped at my drink and tried to locate Gideon, finally spying him ravaging a plate of quail eggs and talking to someone dressed as a gorgon.

  The hair on the back of my neck prickled and I knew I was being watched. A man emerged from the crowd, dressed in a cloak with silver stitching and a wolf mask. As he came closer, my mouth tugged into a surprised smile. I recognised those ebony eyes that moved over me like a gentle caress.

  ‘What are you doing here?’ I asked when Roman came in close.

  He was wearing dark civilian clothing and tugged awkwardly at the high collar of his coat. ‘I wanted to see you.’

  ‘I didn’t realise Regulators had so much free time.’ I frowned. ‘I don’t want to get you in trouble.’

  Roman gave an easy laugh. ‘My new role affords me more time and freedom, though I'll admit I had to sneak out for this little adventure.’ He leaned forward to brush his lips against mine, then straightened with a satisfied smile, seemingly happy he’d surprised me.

  A chime sounded, and the music stopped, the crowd falling silent. A porter stood by the entrance, arms raised for everyone’s attention. Ivor Grogan joined him, a glass in one hand, Nicola in the other. Her mask was gone, and she looked radiant as she watched her father. Lander, Grogan’s snaggle-lipped psychopath bodyguard, lurked to one side.

  ‘Ladies and gentlemen. Thank you for your illustrious company.’ Grogan’s voice was loud and strong, the kind that was used to issuing commands and having them followed. ‘Tonight we are here to celebrate my only child, Nicola Augustina Grogan, coming of age.’ A few spontaneous cheers erupted and Nicola blushed. Grogan continued, ‘As you all know, this is a special time in any girl’s life. A time when she no longer requires her guardians, or perhaps…even her father.’

  Nicola swiped at her eyes with a hand, then touched her father’s arm and whispered something in his ear that made him smile. It was difficult for me to understand their relationship. Grogan’s aura hadn’t shown me a good man. I had little doubt he was a bloodthirsty cutthroat, and while Nicola wasn’t the sharpest pencil around, she didn’t openly fear him, which meant it was unlikely he beat her. The fact she was holding down her own job, dubious as it was, said that he at least saw her as a person with desires and wants. I sipped my drink, wondering if I'd misjudged him.

  As Grogan’s speech about his daughter wound down, he inclined his head to someo
ne in the crowd.

  ‘Tonight is twice special for me,’ he continued, as a masked man joined him on stage. ‘For I have lived long enough to see my lovely daughter blossom into the beauty she is today.’ He raised his glass to the crowd. ‘It is with the greatest pleasure that I announce her engagement to my old friend, the greatly esteemed Master Elmore Deckkart.’

  The man removed his mask, revealing a skull-head tattoo that overlaid half his own face, and eyes that were chips of ice. Old and mean, he stared hungrily at Nicola, who had gone pale.

  Oblivious to Nicola’s distress, cheers erupted around the ballroom, and Grogan and Deckkart clapped each other on the back. My neck prickled again and I tore my eyes from Nicola’s devastated face to see Lander staring at me. He gave me a happy smile, suggesting he hadn’t forgotten about me. I looked away. I'd dealt with enough bullies to not wet my pants every time someone threatened me, dead rats or not.

  ‘His daughter doesn’t look too pleased,’ Roman murmured.

  ‘I'm not surprised. Deckkart is the leader of the Reaper Street Gang,’ I said. Conversation around us resumed and the band started up a jaunty tune. ‘Gideon told me Deckkart was retiring soon and Grogan was pursuing the role. Guess this marriage would help seal the deal.’

  Roman touched my arm. ‘What do you think your benefactor is up to? He has a very strange look on his face.’

  I followed Roman’s gaze until I found Gideon, who was striding purposely across the ballroom, a bottle of bubbly in his hands. Tracking his line of sight, I found his point of interest. The Mayor of Harken stood near the musicians, clasping a large wine goblet. He was dressed as Anon, the God of War, complete with a leather tunic and a green crown of frilly oak leaves, and was lording over a knot of people, all hanging off his every word.

  A nasty thought popped into my mind. ‘We’ve got to stop him.’

  ‘Why?’ Roman tracked the swiftly moving satyr.

  ‘He’s heading for the Mayor.’

  ‘What does that matter?’

  ‘Trust me. It matters.’

  Dodging a servant carrying a tray of glazed duck, and tossing my glass to a passing server, I hurried to head Gideon off, Roman close behind me. Stepping directly in his path, Gideon was forced to skid to a halt. A guilty look slid over his face.