Oath

by K. J. Jackson

  He lifted a hand to touch the black mark on Viola’s cheek. “The bastard?”

  Viola’s eyes dropped as she nodded.

  “No bother on that—he will get his due, me lovey.” The man turned to Liv and the girl, slipping his arm behind Viola’s waist as he pulled her as close to his side as his belly would allow. “And look at what you have brought me. This is the girl you spoke of?” He pointed to the girl. “The present I can sell?”

  Viola smiled up at him. “It is, Bear.”

  “She is a delight, just as you described her, a crystal doll indeed. But you did not say you would bring me two.” His squinty eyes landed on Liv, looking her up and down.

  Viola glanced at Liv. “I did not—this is Livia, and she is not for auction.”

  “Then why bring her, me lovey?” He glanced down to Viola before looking to Liv. “I do think there may be fine options with this one.”

  “No, Bear.” Viola’s hand went to his chest. “She is my friend.”

  His face twisted as though he didn’t understand the concept of “friend.” A chuckle escaped his greasy lips. “You play with fire you know nothing about, me lovey, bringing her here.”

  He dropped his arm from around Viola’s waist, starting toward Liv.

  Viola grabbed his shoulder, stopping his motion. “Bear, no.”

  “Just inspecting what you have brought, me lovey.” He shrugged off her hand and moved to Liv, pushing her aside to stand in front of the girl on the bed, assessing her as she cowered from him. “That crowd below be randy for the auction tonight, and this little one—the crystal doll, you say? Superb. She be ripe for a high price.”

  “I knew you would like her, Bear.”

  “Aye. You done well, me lovey.” He glanced back to Viola, and then pulled a watch from his vest pocket, twirling the gold chain around his forefinger as he looked to the time. “As it is, I have to check to decide if the crowd below be ready for the auction—I had thought to just sell the virgin crystal doll tonight, but this one…”

  He took a step to Liv, his hand snaking out to grasp her face between his thumb and forefinger, squeezing, tilting her head back and forth as he studied her. “This one caused a stir downstairs. And I am not one to pass up a stir. Virgin or not, there be plenty o’ men that be wanting to fuck a proper lady like this—maybe I’ll be selling up a line for her—five or six spots, top bidder goes first. How long cin ye keep yer legs spread, ducky?”

  Bile hit Liv’s throat. She tried to yank away.

  His grip tightened on her face, squeezing to pain. “Yea, yer a pretty one, and will fetch a pretty coin, over and over, not just tonight.”

  “But not as pretty as me, Bear?” Viola set her hand upon his shoulder, the bottom lip of her heart-shaped mouth jutting out.

  “Aye. I don’t like the scrawn of her.”

  Viola rubbed his shoulder. “I did not bring Livia here to be sold, Bear—she stays off the stage.”

  He instantly dropped Liv’s face, the back of his hand swinging out to smack Viola across the cheek. “Don’t tell me what I can and can’t be selling in me brothel, bitch.”

  Viola cowered, her head ducking down for a long moment.

  “Don’t hide from me, me lovey.” He grabbed her chin, yanking it up. “Ye still be me favorite.”

  Viola blinked, her eyes crinkling in pain as she conjured a smile for him. Liv watched in fascination as, somehow, Viola’s green eyes shifted to nearly glow at him.

  He nodded toward the girl. “Try to clean up the doll while I’m gone. I be selling her without the hood if you can stop the tears. Leave the binder in her mouth, though—don’t want her bellowing down there.” He glanced at Liv, his eyes raking her over. “Your friend there, she goes to the stage as well. But no hood on her—she don’t look like she be shedding even a tear over this place, and her face be fetching me some extra coin.”

  He dropped his hand from Viola’s chin, exiting the room.

  Just as the door closed, Liv saw the three brutes line up outside the room.

  No escape.

  Liv waited a long second to be sure the man was gone before running across the room to the window, ripping wide the drapes. Ragged boards crisscrossed where glass should have been.

  No escape.

  Liv exhaled a bitter breath, turning back to Viola, fire in her eyes. “That man—he is how you got the list of buyers, isn’t it? Tell me I am wrong, Viola. Tell me you haven’t whored yourself out.”

  Viola shrugged. “I did what I needed to, to get that list, Livia. You never asked—you always thought the investigator produced it. You should never have assumed—if you had paid better attention, you might not be minutes away from being sold again.”

  Liv’s hands flew up. “This is my fault? The devil, Viola, why are you doing this? Why is working through the list not enough for you—why go to this madness?”

  Viola shook her head. “I thought the list would be enough, Livia, the revenge. And it was, for a time.”

  “But not now? Look at how many of those men we have stopped, Viola. This here tonight is nothing but cruelty you unleash.”

  “Cruelty? You know nothing of the cruelty I’ve endured.” Viola bent, gathering up her grey wool skirt. “Look at this, Livia, look at it.” She hiked her skirt high, past her tall boots, past her stockings, exposing her bare thighs. Scars, too many to count—some new, tinged red, some old, wrinkled lines of white—twisted haphazardly across her skin. From her stockings to the top of her thighs, a mangled mess. “This is cruelty, this is what I endure at the hands of my husband—years of it.”

  Her eyes wide, Liv stared at the horror. “Viola, I—”

  “You escaped to a good marriage, Livia. I did not. Look at what he’s done to me. And it doesn’t stop—it never stops. I have been waiting years for the old bastard to die, years for him to at least pay me no mind. I whored myself out in marrying that odious man—but a prostitute with a title and money is still a prostitute.” Viola let her skirts fall from her fingers, the fabric dropping to the rough wooden floor. “So being Bear’s mistress is tolerable. He owns this place and as I was already accustomed to whoring myself out—it got us what we needed—the list.”

  The girl whimpered on the bed, crumbling into herself. She looked as though she just realized her fate was under control of a madwoman. Liv could only move to her and clutch the girl’s shoulder, giving it a squeeze.

  Liv inhaled, sucking in the stale air of the room. Of the thousand directions her mind flew—heartbreak for her friend, panic for her own safety, confusion on how her life had managed to, once again, be destroyed in a matter of minutes—getting this girl out of the brothel unhurt remained forefront.

  Shoving everything except that one goal from her mind, Liv stepped to the side, putting herself between Viola and the girl again. She leveled her look at her friend, trying to gain a semblance of calm in her voice. “So let us go back to that, Viola, the list. We have so many more to stop—you do not have to do this. I swear we will find another way to destroy Sir Bishman—one that doesn’t involve sacrificing an innocent girl.”

  “No. This is the way, Livia, this is how it needs to happen.”

  “But why, Viola? I am begging you, please, please, you can still get that man to let us go.” She stepped toward her friend. “At least let the girl go—I will stay.” Her words choked in her throat, but she forced them out. “I will do whatever he wishes. Whatever.”

  Viola’s head tilted as she stared at Liv. “Admirable of you, Livia. I did not think you had that in you.” She clasped her hands together. “No. We all stay.”

  “Viola…please.”

  Viola leaned towards Liv, a sudden smile on her face as her voice dropped to a whisper. “The base of the walls on the main floor, Livia. I had them soak it in oil—all of it, all of them are going up in flames tonight.”

  “What?” Liv moved to within inches of Viola, knowing she had not heard correctly.

  “They don’t even smell it
, the fools.” Viola’s green eyes glowed. “Too drunk. Too lecherous. It is everywhere.”

  Her head shaking, the reality of Viola’s words sank into Liv’s mind. She had thought her friend had gone mad, but this—this was beyond all insanity. “Hell, Viola, what have you done?”

  “The line of it goes all around the foundation.” Viola clapped her hands. “Flames, Livia. Flames for everyone.”

  Liv reeled backward, dropping to the bed next to the girl, her body trembling. She stared at the tips of Viola’s boots, having no basis for comprehending the horrors running through Viola’s mind. “You planned this all.”

  She looked up at Viola, her voice stunned to a whisper. “You planned to take us all with it, didn’t you, Viola? To kill us all.”

  Viola didn’t answer, just looked at Liv, glee carving a wicked smile on her face.

  { Chapter 23 }

  Liv sat in silence, staring at her friend for minutes, for an hour—she wasn’t sure how long. She sat, unable to comfort the sobbing girl next to her, unable to lift even a pinky.

  When had it all descended into so much torment—so much pain—for Viola, that this lunacy was all she had been left with? At what moment in time had the need for vengeance eaten away so much of Viola’s soul that she cared no more for her own life? And how had Liv not recognized it—not stopped it?

  The door swung open, the owner of the brothel stepping into the room again. He glanced about the room, his beady eyes pinning Viola. “Why is the crystal doll not readied? She looks like a drowned rat with all the tears.” He stepped back to the open door, addressing one of the brutes standing guard. “Get a hood for her head—and be quick about it, the crowd is ready.”

  The shortest of the guards disappeared.

  Shutting the door, the owner stepped back into the room, stopping in front of Liv. “Stand, ducky.”

  Liv tilted her head, her look travelling up the bright blue of his jacket, her eyes hurting at the garish shine of the threads. Past the greasy double chin. The fat nose. His beady eyes.

  “Ye think to defy me, wench?” He sneered down at her.

  “Bear, no.” Viola jumped forward, pulling on her lover’s shoulder. “She will go. She will do whatever you want. She told me she would.”

  He shook Viola off, leaning forward to grip Liv’s arms, yanking her to standing. “Yer not ready for the stage, bitch.”

  Liv stared down at him, using her height for all it was worth. For once, she didn’t mind being taller than a man.

  He chuckled. “That bitter look will only feed the frenzy, ducky. Them boys below like a filly they cin break.” He gripped the front edges of Liv’s carriage dress, ripping it wide, the line of small jet buttons holding it closed popping from the wool fabric, scattering to the ground.

  He smirked, taking in her bosom now only covered by her white shift and her stays. “There. That be what they be lookin’ fer. Leave the jacket on yer arms—they be wanting to see the quality ye come with. But they be wanting to see more of yer diddeys.”

  He reached for her stays, yanking the binding fabric downward.

  Liv’s shocked stupor fell from her in waves, rage expanding in her belly, sending fire outward along her arms. She lifted her hand, gathering angle to strike him. Strike him with all her might, consequences be dammed.

  His grubby fingers went to her shift, gripping, tearing wide the fine cloth. Her breasts spilled forth, her nipples bare to the air.

  Liv swung, cuffing the side of the owner’s head just as a crash on the other side of the door thundered into the room.

  The owner staggered to the side from the blow, but it didn’t topple him off his feet. “Bitch.” He looked to Viola. “Give me your knife.”

  Her eyes wide, Viola shook her head.

  The owner advanced on Viola. “Give me yer fuckin’ dagger, me lovey, and ye’ll be spared.”

  Viola gripped her reticule to her belly, the hilt of the dagger hanging from the opening of the bag. She stepped backward, her head swinging back and forth.

  Another crash on the door, and the wood shook on its hinges. The girl screamed with the sound, scooting herself backward on the bed.

  “Don’t worry, me lovey, I would never hurt ye.” Cornering Viola, the owner’s hands went slowly forward toward the black hilt of the blade, a cat trying to catch a mouse.

  Liv grasped her jacket, trying to cover herself with one hand while reaching downward to drag her stays back upward over her breasts.

  With a grunt, the owner ripped the dagger from Viola’s bag just as the door swung open, slamming into the wall.

  “Liv.”

  Tieran filled the doorway, his face savage, fists bloody.

  A warrior unleashed. A warrior with the blood of a hundred warriors before him pumping through his veins. A warrior determined to save what was his.

  For one gasped breath, fear cut through her heart. Not fear at Tieran. Fear that he would think the worst of what she was doing here in a brothel. Fear that he would think she had willingly brought this girl here to be sold.

  Fear that he would believe her vengeance was more important than him.

  Tieran’s blue eyes met hers, her dread vanishing in the next breath.

  His eyes held no questions, no suspicion—just chilling rage that swirled with desperate relief as his eyes swept up and down her body. Satisfied she was unharmed, his blue eyes locked with hers. Only brutal determination to get her out of there remained, burning in his eyes.

  He rushed into the room and Liv spotted a mess of limbs and inert bodies on the hallway floor behind him. He filled the space and reached for her with Lord Lockston on his heels and Mr. Niles stopping at the doorway.

  Her legs going weak in relief, Liv exhaled a short cry. She didn’t know how or why they had just appeared, but she would thank fate a thousand times over for not leaving her to the rabid wolves.

  Viola screamed and Liv spun to her, watching in horror as the owner twisted Viola in front of him, the dagger at Viola’s neck.

  “Viola, don’t move,” Liv screamed.

  A pistol appeared to her left, drawn and cocked. Liv looked up at Tieran, shocked that he had moved so quickly.

  “No, Tieran, don’t—you’ll hit Viola.”

  “Does it matter, Liv?”

  “Don’t even think it, ye bastard.” The owner spat the words out, hiding behind Viola’s head. “Ye make a move and I slice her neck.”

  Liv turned her head, her voice a whisper as she went to her toes to reach Tieran’s ear. “Tieran, no, we have to get out of here—I don’t know where she put it.”

  “Put what?” he asked, his eyes trained on the owner.

  “The oil.” Liv had to fight to keep the screech out of her whisper. “Viola said it’s everywhere. She’s gone mad, Tieran—she means to torch the place. It could go with one dropped match.”

  He whispered out the side of his mouth to her, his eyes never leaving Viola and the owner. “We ripped this floor to shreds, Liv—not a man standing. Who is setting it off?”

  “I don’t know. Her? Someone she hired?”

  “Hell, Liv,” he muttered under his breath.

  Liv dropped to her flat feet, looking behind Tieran’s shoulders. “Mr. Niles—take this girl—get her out of here—get her out of the East End as fast as you can—she can tell you where she lives.”

  Mr. Niles stepped into the room, sliding behind Lockston, Tieran, and Liv to get to the girl on the bed. “Yes, my lady. But I should wait for you.” He pulled free a knife, quickly sawing through the rope binding the girl’s wrists together.

  “No. Go. I have a carriage,” Lockston said.

  “You take the girl and I’ll slit this one’s neck, I will.” The owner jerked Viola backward, tightening his grip around her.

  “You will do no such thing, because the second she drops from you is the second I have a clear shot to your skull.” Tieran’s threat was laced with brutal efficiency. His eyes not veering from Viola and her captor, his voice
dropped to a whisper. “Liv—tell Lockston what you just told me.”

  Liv scooted behind Tieran, moving to whisper into Lockston’s ear. Tieran’s friend had a bloody cut along his cheek and his fists were dripping with smears of blood. Tieran clearly wasn’t the only one that knew how to fight.

  She quickly repeated the words. Lockston looked down at her, his eyes narrowing. He looked up at the back of Tieran’s head. “Hell, Reggard.”

  “Exactly.” Tieran didn’t twitch, steadfast with his aim on the owner cowering behind Viola. “Clear the place, every floor, Lockston. Go.”

  Lockston didn’t hesitate, turning and running out the door.

  “Liv. Get yourself out of here,” Tieran said, his voice steel. “Go downstairs and two blocks to the south. You’ll see my horse by a coach with two guards at the back. Tell them who you are. They will get you out of here.”

  Her feet ached to twitch toward the door, wanting nothing more than to run from this place. Run as fast and as far as she could. But her heels dug in. “No. I’m not leaving without Viola.” She wanted to grab Tieran’s arm, but didn’t want to jostle the pistol. “And I’m not leaving without you.”

  “Liv. Go.” Growled, Tieran’s two words shook the air around him.

  The floor above them started to thump, feet running along the boards, rattling the building.

  “What the hell is that?” The owner looked up, his slimy hand twisting the blade on Viola’s neck.

  Viola smiled, seemingly unaware that the dagger had drawn blood, two lines dripping down her neck. “They know, don’t they? They are all running. Running like rats. They won’t make it.”

  “What did you do, bitch?” The owner snarled the question in Viola’s ear.

  “Viola—no—don’t say a word.” Liv took a step toward her friend.

  “Liv.” Tieran reached out to grab her arm, yanking her to a stop.

  Viola laughed. “The flames of hell are here for you, Bear. Here for all of you—all of us. They are going to light them—light them right now.”

  “Bitch.” The owner screeched, an animal trapped.

  He slit Viola’s throat in one quick motion, the knife digging deep, separating skin.