by Kyle Prue
Chapter Fifty-Four
ARKNEY
DARIUS TAURLUM
Barlow Venator was different from the Marksman in every observable mannerism. He was funny and lighthearted in a way that Victor never was. They’d been offered cots to sleep in above his bar. Darius was tired of sleeping in bars, but luckily no longer had to worry about being caught by the Empire. Here he was a fugitive, but so was everyone else. “I’m heading out for the night,” Barlow said to the group the night after their arrival. “I’ll bring us a new spy.”
“Perfect,” Anastasia said. “This needs to get done quickly.”
“I’m curious,” Barlow said. “I know Ms. Bianca Blackmore is part of the revolution, but why are you all so intent on finding the Bookkeeper? He’s not exactly the most important figure in the Imperial military.”
“No, but he’s the key to finding the Imperial Doctor,” Darius said.
Barlow’s smile fell and he stared at the group. Darius got the feeling that he’d said something he shouldn’t have. “I see,” Barlow said. “What makes you think the Bookkeeper can lead you to the Doctor?”
“The Bookkeeper is in charge of getting the Doctor his money. He manages every coin the Empire spends on assassinations. He sends money by courier to the Imperial Doctor. It stands to reason that he’ll know where to find him,” Anastasia said. “This plan is well thought out.”
“I’ve seen a lot of people go after the Doctor,” Barlow said. He didn’t need to say the rest. They didn’t come back.
“We don’t have a choice,” Darius said. “He’s captured one of our best friends.”
Barlow stared at them. “How much do you know about the Doctor?” he asked. His voice was quivering.
“We know enough,” Bianca said. “He’s a monster and he’s methodical.”
“He’s also superstitious,” Barlow said. “If this is what I think it is, your friend is in grave danger.”
“What do you mean?” Darius asked.
Barlow dropped his bag and walked over to his table. He sat down and pulled out his cards. It made Darius nervous, but all he did was shuffle them. “The Doctor used to be a part of the official Venator Lodge. He was expelled for torturing students that he’d kidnapped from the libraries around Volteria.”
“Why would he do that?” Darius asked, concern welling up in his throat.
“He used to be a scholar but was tortured into insanity,” Barlow said. “I’ve always assumed he was just insane, but he told everyone that would listen that the experiments had turned him into something else. He thought that the spirit of the man who tortured him had become his own.”
“That’s unsettling,” Bianca said.
“It’s also not the worst part,” Barlow said. “He thinks he can transfer the spirit to someone else.”
“That doesn’t make any sense,” Darius said.
“Tell that to him,” Barlow muttered. “He’s always believed that by torturing someone with an especially strong mind he can make them into the new Doctor.”
An unnatural silence covered the room as the group imagined the horrors that Rhys must be going through. “We have to get there,” Bianca said. “We have to stop him.”
“I’ve always thought the Doctor was insane but he’s been known to commit medical miracles in the name of scientific advancement,” Barlow said. “You have to get there before he can break your friend.”
“You don’t actually believe that, do you?” Darius accused. “You don’t believe he can transfer his spirit?”
“No,” Barlow said, “of course not.” He paused and gulped. “It’s just… I’ve learned not to underestimate evil.”
He waited for someone to respond. When no one did he pocketed his cards. “I’m going out to find a spy. You need every second on your side.”
He descended the stairs and left the others to dread what might be happening to Rhys. To dread the small possibility that the Doctor might have found the supernatural powers he’d been seeking.
Everyone was asleep except for Darius. He usually waited for everyone to nod off and then he would attempt to finish A Rough History of Lightborns. He’d managed to convince Bianca and Anastasia that bringing it on their journey would be helpful. He was getting quicker but still had to sound out the words one at a time. Barlow was out hunting spies and the Blackmore sisters were asleep. Darius flipped through the pages to find a Taurlum to read about. There were nearly a dozen pages on Nikolai Taurlum that detailed his life up until his assassination of the old emperor. Darius picked an entry at random. “After his fallout with Charles Vapros (See page: ninety-four.) Nikolai Taurlum thought it best to lock himself inside the mansion.”
Darius thought hard. He’d heard a lot about Charles Vapros but he didn’t remember exactly who that was. He flipped to page ninety-four and read through Charles Vapros’s aliases and connections. The Wolf had recently scribbled in Neil’s name, along with another one that he couldn’t read. It dawned on him that Charles Vapros was Neil and Rhys’s father. He wrinkled his nose. Sir Vapros certainly didn’t look like a Charles. To Darius he didn’t look like anything other than an assassination machine. There were quite a few pages dedicated to Sir Vapros. Apparently he and Nikolai had tried to kill each other many times as a result of a dispute at a ball. Neither had succeeded. Darius wished there was something after his uncle Nikolai had escaped into the sewers. That was the greatest question in all of Altryon and the subject of many Taurlum dinner discussions. Where was Nikolai Taurlum?
Darius scanned the pages about Nikolai. He’d known the man in life. Maybe the Wolf knew things he didn’t. Maybe there was something he could add to the book. Darius envied Nikolai’s advanced ability. As he’d grown bigger and stronger, the weak points on his body had disappeared one by one. Darius would kill for that ability. The Wolf estimated that Nikolai only had one weak point left, but he didn’t know where it was.
Darius brought the candle closer to stare at the sketch of his uncle. Nikolai’s battle armor was incredible. His helmet had giant curved horns that made him look like a metal bull. Darius’s brother, Michael, once wore a similar one. Although Michael’s didn’t cover his neck and chin like Nikolai’s did. It must have been hard to breathe in that thing.
“So you really can read,” someone said behind him.
Darius tried to act like his heart wasn’t beating out of his chest. He closed the book. “Of course I can.”
Anastasia sat across from him and gave a knowing smile. “Rhys sure is a great teacher.”
“I wouldn’t know,” Darius said. “I was taught by a Taurlum tutor.”
“How long ago?” she asked.
“When I was around five years old.”
“Then why do you still move your lips when you read and sound out letters?” she asked.
He stared at her, trying not to sweat. “I’m a light sleeper,” she said.
Darius drummed his fingers on the book. “Got me,” he said. “Laugh if you want to.”
She cocked her head. “I only learned to read a few years ago, when I went off on my own and left my father. It took me years to get it.”
He didn’t know what to say. She noticed and continued. “Lilly and the Vapros might make fun of you, but they were born nobles. Not everyone out here is a scholar.”
“What did it for you?” he asked. “Did something click?”
She went into her bag by the cots and pulled out a small book. “I kept this,” she said. “They don’t teach you that every letter has several different pronunciations. So I wrote down every word that used a letter differently than I was used to. It really helped to read through this every day.”
“I’ll have to make one of those,” Darius mused.
She tossed hers to him. “I can read all right now. You can have mine.”
“Really?” he asked.
She passed it to him as a way of answering. He couldn’t believe that less than a year ago this girl had attempted to assassinate him three times. S
he looked to be thinking the same thing. “Is there anything you want help with?” she asked. “We could go through the Lightborn book. It would go faster if I was there to help you.”
“Why are you doing this?” he asked.
“Guilt, probably,” she said candidly.
“For helping Michael?”
“Yes.”
He stared at her and she stared back unwaveringly. “All right,” he said. “Pick any page. Let’s read something.”
Maybe it was minutes or maybe it was hours, but they took turns educating themselves on the family history in hushed tones, careful not to wake Bianca. She actually laughed when he made quips or told stories that weren’t included in the book. “Your friend Barlow is in here,” Darius said as he curled up the edge of the page to show her.
She peered at it expectantly. “Apparently he and the Wolf trained together. He’s got a lot to say.”
Darius was interested in hearing what the Wolf had to say about their new friend and landlord. Darius wasn’t exactly a reading prodigy, but he knew how to spell “arrogant.” It was written all over the page. “He’s made an impression on the Wolf,” Darius said. “That can be said for sure.”
“The only thing stronger than his affinity for alcohol is his affinity for liberty. He is a drunk and an idealist of the highest caliber,” Anastasia read. “That’s true.” She continued on, “However, he is the one thing keeping Arkney from slipping into Imperial hands. He believes in the people’s ability to govern themselves above all else. He’s not a rebel. He’s a libertarian.”
“Is he really that much of a drinker?” Darius asked.
Anastasia gave him a look that said: You have no idea. “He’s actually constantly under the effects of it. He thinks it’s the only way he can aim perfectly.”
“He’s an alcoholic who owns a bar?” Darius asked.
“That’s the thing about Arkney. No one judges here. People just go about their business. If he wants to drink himself to death, that’s his business.”
“A Venator does not indulge,” Darius said. “That means no alcohol right?”
“It means no getting drunk,” Anastasia said. “Barlow takes about one serving per hour. He’s constantly buzzed and somehow that doesn’t stop his powers from working.”
Darius tried to sound casual as he posed his next question. He even leaned back slightly to show how uninterested he was in his own words. “How do you know him so well anyway?”
She looked at him the way she always did, as if she saw right through every game and every wall. “Arkney has always been a good place to lay low in-between jobs. Or it was.”
“It’s not anymore?”
“Once the Doctor has you in his service things change,” she said. “You don’t ever stop moving. He’s always in control. You’re always on a clock.”
Darius took his hands off the book. “How are you on a clock?”
“I don’t want to discuss it,” she said a little too quickly for Darius to be comfortable. “I’m nervous about Rhys. I don’t want to speak about the Doctor right now.”
Darius realized his reading light was getting brighter and brighter and noticed that they had been up all night. The sun was rising. “You’re up early,” Barlow the Dealer said as he lugged a hogtied body up the stairs.
Darius noticed what the Wolf had been talking about. He hadn’t been looking for it earlier, but now he saw that Barlow swayed slightly with every step. His eyes also drooped in a clear indication of intoxication. He hid it well, like a man who had never been away from the bottle for more than an hour. “Darius was reading me a story,” Anastasia said through a yawn.
“Well, guess who else is gonna tell us a story?” Barlow whispered as if he were telling a ghost story of his own. He pushed the man into a chair and ungagged him.
“Please, I don’t know…. I don’t know what you’ve been talking about…” the man said.
At this Bianca awoke. “What’s happening?” she groaned. “It’s early.”
The Dealer pulled a card from his deck. “Any knowledge of card throwing, friend?” he asked. The man just stared at him. “You’ve gotta throw it just right. It helps that my deck has been specially made with steel tips. I reckon that I could hit the back of the chair through your head. I’ve done it before.”
“Please!” he screamed. “I’ll do anything!”
“Where’s Quintus, the Bookkeeper? I won’t ask twice,” Barlow said.
The spy looked around the room fearfully as if the Bookkeeper were with them. “Quintus knows everything. He’ll know if I rat him out.”
“You’re in the right place to be a fugitive of the Empire,” Barlow said.
The spy was on the verge of tears. “He’s running the boxing parlor!” the spy screamed as Barlow pulled his hand back to throw a card. “He’s rigging fights.”
Barlow stared at him. “No way.”
The spy’s lower lip quivered. “He puts spies in the ring and weights their gloves. It’s how he gets rid of anyone who’s onto him.”
“What do weighted gloves do?” Darius asked.
“They make it easier to beat people to death,” Anastasia said.
Barlow looked beyond upset. “But I fight there every other night,” he said to himself.
“You’ve been fighting men with weighted gloves for weeks. No one can hit you.”
Barlow grinned at Darius. “Guess I really am the best.”
Anastasia laughed. “It’s just like you to not even realize you’re fighting a losing fight.”
“It’s me,” Barlow said. “I don’t lose fights. Right, spy?” The spy wept like a small child. “That’s the Imperial way of saying ‘Right.’”
The spy didn’t seem to get the joke. Barlow turned to face his friends. “So we’ve got a place, who’s got a plan?”
The room was silent for a moment as the fugitives collectively rubbed their chins. Anastasia leaned back and a smile ghosted over her face. “I’ve got an idea,” she said. “Darius remember when you were talking about your sister?”
“Cassie? What about her?” he asked.
“You said she used to infiltrate boxing competitions. I recommend you do the same.”
“Yeah,” Barlow said. “Skin of steel probably helps a good deal in a dust-up. Right, Blondie?”
Darius wanted to flex but didn’t. “I don’t know of anyone who could beat a Taurlum in a fist fight. But I don’t see how me winning fights does anything for us.”
Barlow was getting excited. He seized Anastasia’s idea and ran with it. “No, no this is perfect.” He laughed like a mad man, but stifled it when he realized his compatriots were staring. “You get in the ring, Darius. You’ll win a few fights and they’ll send in some guys to cheat. You’ll keep knocking them down. Quintus won’t take that. He’ll either pull you into the back room to kill you or offer you a job. Doesn’t matter. We’ll know who he is. What he looks like, and that’ll be enough.”
“So I’m bait,” Darius concluded.
“You’re bait with iron flesh,” Anastasia said. “Stop whining.”
“So what happens when I get in front of the Bookkeeper?” Darius asked.
“We’ll be there,” Barlow said. “We can capture him, take him wherever and have a little fun. You’ll find out where the Imperial Doctor is.”
Darius tilted his head back and forth as if weighing the options. He looked over at Anastasia and she met his eyes. She trusted Barlow and it looked like she trusted this haphazardly assembled plan. He looked next to Bianca. She’d been quiet through most of this and he couldn’t tell if it was because she was concerned about the logistics of the plan, concerned about Neil, or that she was still waking up.
“What do you think?” he asked her.
“We can’t waste time,” Bianca said. “It took us ten days just to get to Arkney. I’m going to be at Misty Hollow in twenty days and ideally Rhys will be there too. If this is the quickest solution I’m all for it. How soon can we go t
o the Boxing Parlor?”
Barlow absentmindedly pulled a card from his pack and spun it between his pointer finger and thumb. “The next fight is… tomorrow?”
“Tonight,” the spy whimpered.
“Thanks buddy,” Barlow said. “We can go tonight unless you all want to stick around and check out the sights.” Bianca opened her mouth to protest. “That was a joke,” he interrupted.
Darius could see her patience running thin by the way her jawline tightened. She was gritting her teeth hard. “I’m stressed,” she mumbled. “Jokes are not appreciated.”
“I’m very sorry about your boy toy,” Barlow said. “But if you don’t have humor what do you have?”
“Killer aim and about seven knives,” Bianca said almost too quietly for anyone to hear.
He held his card up. “I wonder whose aim is better.”
He was being condescending and as a Venator he was probably used to getting away with it. However, if Darius had learned anything about seeing Bianca interact with Neil, he knew that she didn’t care if someone came with superhuman powers. She certainly didn’t take to being talked down to either. “So do I,” she said unwaveringly.
“I hate to interrupt,” Anastasia said. “But we have one last problem to deal with.” She pointed her head to the hogtied spy.
The spy realized what she was saying and dissolved into a miserable mess. He curled up further into his own self-pity. Barlow looked at the card in his hand and spun it between his fingers once more. “I’ve got fifty-two solutions to that problem. Don’t you worry.”
“Hold up,” Bianca said. “There are fifty-three solutions by my count. What will the Bookkeeper do to you if he knew that you sold him out?” she asked the spy.
The man was sobbing too hard to answer. “Come on,” Barlow said. “This is easier. He looks like a five of clubs guy, right?”
“Let him talk,” Bianca said with more force this time.
“He’d kill me,” the Spy slobbered. “He’d have me beaten to death.”
