“I know you’re in here,” a woman they guessed to be Lorella said. “And if I find you, you’re gonna get a beating, so get out!” Anger edged out fear in her voice, but Ridge heard a slight waver.
She moved between them, just as they had hoped. Ridge stepped forward. “We want to talk with you,” he said. “It doesn’t have to go badly.”
Lorella raised a long, thin, dark object defensively. “Leave me alone.” She was slender and scarcely as tall as Rett’s shoulder, and her black hair hung in loose curls around a heart-shaped face with large, dark eyes. Right now, those eyes looked daggers at them, and her lips curled in a defiant sneer.
“Drop the weapon,” Ridge ordered.
Rett moved out of his hiding place along the wall behind Lorella, and the tip of his sword nudged her in the back. “Drop it.”
Lorella flung the weapon at Ridge with a curse. She took in their shadowy forms, and the glint of the knives clear in their grip. “I don’t have anything to steal. Go away. Don’t hurt me.”
“Light some lamps. We’re going to ask you questions. How it goes after that depends on what you have to say,” Ridge said.
“Who are you? Why are you here? I’ve done nothing wrong.” Even facing down two armed men, Lorella remained defiant.
“First, light. Then, we’ll talk.”
Rett remained close behind Lorella as she went to light two lanterns. They illuminated the cramped space, and Lorella took advantage of the glow to glare at both assassins.
“Now what?” Although she had dropped her weapon, everything about her stance suggested she would not go down without a fight.
“Sit down,” Ridge ordered. “We have questions.”
Glowering, Lorella sat in the high-backed chair. Rett remained close to one side. He had a glazed look in his eyes, and Ridge guessed he scanned with his Sight. When he blinked, his expression looked puzzled, and the shrug he gave vexed Ridge.
“Tell us about Duke Barton. What does he hear from his children?” Ridge kept his knife down, but it remained in his hand, easy enough for her to see the threat.
“None of your business.”
“It’s our business now,” Rett replied quietly. “And it will go better if you answer us honestly.”
“Who are you?”
“Trouble,” Ridge said. “Now…tell us about the Duke.” He glanced at Rett and gave a subtle hand signal to indicate that Rett should take the lead while he opened his Sight. Turning his magic on the woman who sat ready for a fight, he understood why Rett had looked confused. The touch of the Witch Lord left a stain, yet it was not the taint of those who had sold themselves for profit. Nor did it feel like the wagon driver or the other willing lackeys they had encountered. Lorella bore the Witch Lord’s touch, but on her, it felt more like a bruise.
“I don’t break confidences,” Lorella countered. “What the spirits tell me, what my customers ask…it’s private.”
Ridge opened his mouth to respond when a crash of glass stole his words. A sturdy pottery jar with a burning fuse rolled across the floor where it landed after breaking the window.
“Run!” Rett yelled, grabbing Lorella by the wrist and pulling her with them. They reached the back room just as the crude bomb exploded, and Ridge got the door most of the way shut in time to block the hail of pottery shards that drove themselves deep into the wood.
“Keep her here!” Ridge hissed and slipped out the door into the alley. He saw two shadowy objects flying toward him, each trailing a tail of fire. He leaped behind a pile of garbage to shield from the blast as they smashed on the cobblestones, bursting into flame and spewing broken bits to strike against the walls. The night stank of gunpowder and sulfur, overlaying the smell of old garbage and piss. Smoke hung in the air, obscuring Ridge’s view as he peered warily around the garbage, checking to see if the attacker was waiting to flush him out.
He dodged from cover, throwing knives ready, but the alley was empty. Ridge ran toward the front of the shop. When he reached the street, no one was in sight, and no footsteps pointed him in the direction of the attacker. He turned back to the store and saw flames leaping from the front room, as smoke billowed through the broken window.
Ridge ran back and pulled open the door to find Rett still holding Lorella by the wrist, staring down her murderous glare. “The front’s on fire! Let’s go.”
Lorella struggled to pull free. “I can’t leave! Everything I own is upstairs.”
“Sorry, but there’s a fire between you and the steps,” Ridge said, grabbing her other wrist. “We’re going now.”
Lorella looked at Ridge and lost focus for an instant. When she returned to herself, she paled. “Shadows. Assassins. You came to kill me!”
“We obviously weren’t the only one,” Ridge shot back. “You have a lot of enemies?”
Lorella threw herself forward, trying to break away from Rett’s grip. She fought like a wild thing, twisting and bucking, and striking out with a kick that barely missed Ridge’s nuts.
“That does it,” Ridge said, yanking a length of rope from beneath his jacket. Lorella’s eyes went wide, and she began to scream as he tied her wrists together. Rett clapped a hand over her mouth and swore in pain as she bit down on his palm.
“She sank her teeth into me!” he protested.
Ridge grabbed a rag and stuffed it into her mouth, as Lorella’s glare promised him a slow death.
“Yes, we’re King’s Shadows. But someone else is trying to kill you. So unless you want to be handed over to them, your best bet is with us. Understand?”
Lorella nodded reluctantly. Rett grabbed her bound wrists. “Run or walk with us, or I tie your ankles and throw you over my shoulder,” he growled.
Ridge led the way into the darkened alley. Behind them, the old shop went up in flames, and Lorella sobbed through her gag. They began to run, trying to put distance between them and the burning embers that fell around them as the fire burst through the sagging roof.
Neighbors turned out to see what was going on, and the quiet night quickly became chaos. Ridge ducked down a dark ginnel. Dragging a prisoner through the growing crowd seemed certain to attract the wrong kind of attention, and they had no desire to involve the town guards.
“Stay here,” Ridge ordered, and Rett responded with a nod, drawing Lorella deeper into the gloom.
Ridge sprinted off, moving through the crowd quickly enough to make haste without looking suspicious. He found what he needed a few blocks away, and returned with a horse and wagon stolen from the stable at the end of the street.
“Get in,” he ordered.
Lorella jerked her arm loose from Rett’s hold and climbed into the wagon with the imperiousness of a queen, despite her bound hands. The look in her eye that made it clear she blamed them for everything.
“We didn’t blow up your shop,” Rett said, as Ridge snapped the reins and the wagon jolted away. Ridge couldn’t make out her muffled response, but he assumed it cursed them soundly and suggested that their mothers made poor—and possibly illegal—choices in bedmates.
“In fact, we probably just saved your life.”
This time, Lorella twisted and managed to dig her knee into Rett’s thigh, barely missing his groin.
“Stop kicking for the plums!” he chided, shoving her back with one hand while keeping a firm grip on her arm.
The wagon clattered through the dark streets, a rough ride that sent Rett and Lorella sliding from one side to the other and rattled Ridge’s teeth. They didn’t dare head back to the inn where they had lodged the night before, not with a captive. And with Lorella’s attacker on the loose, that complicated where they might be safe.
Ridge drove to an abandoned barn he had spotted on the outskirts of town. He sighed, thinking about the cold night ahead of them. Steam rose from the horses, and Ridge could see his own breath cloud in the frigid air. He drove them inside the barn, then lit a lantern and got down to take a closer look at their questionable sanctuary. A quick walk of th
e barn’s interior revealed that the previous owners left nothing of value behind. Ridge came around to help Rett with their unwilling guest.
“I’m going to take out the gag, and you’re not going to scream,” he warned Lorella. “Because there’s no one around to hear you, and it annoys the shit out of me. We’ve got questions. Give us answers, and everything might be all right.”
Lorella responded with a grudging nod. Rett removed her gag, being careful to keep his fingers well away from her teeth. He glared at her, and Ridge saw a fresh red bite on Rett’s hand.
“Any idea who set your house on fire?” Ridge asked.
Lorella slumped against the back of the wagon as if the fight had gone out of her. Ridge took a good look at the medium. She might have been a few years older than he was. Her face was pretty in a sharp-featured way, and her eyes reflected worry and exhaustion. Soot streaked her cheeks, and a few ashes lodged in her hair. Lorella’s nightdress was ripped and stained, and her bare feet looked cold.
“No. No idea,” Lorella replied. “Maybe someone who didn’t like what the ghosts had to say.”
“We’re not the town guards. You can be honest with us. Do you really talk to ghosts?” Ridge pressed.
Lorella’s glare came back, full force. “I don’t care whether you believe or not. It’s true.”
Ridge let that argument go for the moment. “Tell us about the Duke.”
Lorella remained silent, then let out a long breath. “What do you want to know? He lost two children, and it cost his wife her sanity. She shrieks like a mad woman, locked up in a room. The same fever nearly killed Duke Barton, and he wishes he had joined his children instead of recovering.”
“Tell us what messages his children give.” Rett urged.
A flash of fear and wariness crossed Lorella’s face. “The children—Lorn and Betta—pass on wisdom from the other side, as well as their own wishes for their father.”
Ridge shook his head. “That’s the story the Duke wants to hear. Now tell us the truth.”
“Lorn and Betta died when they were small. They miss their parents. They want to come home or have their parents come to them. What did you expect?” Lorella snapped.
“But that’s not good enough to keep the Duke coming back again and again,” Ridge probed. “What about the ‘wisdom from the other side’?”
Lorella looked away. “Sometimes other spirits have messages for the Duke. His children share them.”
“I don’t think that’s how it works,” Rett said, earning a glare. “Why don’t you tell us who’s actually giving you those messages, and what they want with Duke Barton.”
Lorella’s fear was clear in her eyes. “I can’t. They’ll kill me.”
“We’re Shadows,” Ridge reminded her. “I have a warrant for you, on suspicion of treason.” She flinched at the word and swallowed hard. “The only reason we haven’t read it out and done our job is because I think there’s more to the story. And someone else just tried to kill you. So…we’re your best bet for staying alive.”
“You have a warrant,” Lorella said bitterly. “It doesn’t matter what I say or don’t say. I’m already dead.”
Ridge shook his head. “That’s not the way we work. Help us, and we have some leeway to help you.”
She looked at him suspiciously. “Sard it all, guess there’s no reason not to,” she sighed. “The Duke came to me about a year after his children died. He was desperate to hear from them, to know they had found peace. That’s how it started.”
“And you actually contacted his children? Or did you make it all up?”
“I’ve told you. My gift is real. What you believe about it changes nothing. The Duke wanted reassurance. The children wanted to talk to their father.”
“Then something changed,” Rett nudged.
Lorella swallowed hard and nodded. “The Duke’s brother came to me. He wanted me to pass along other messages, advice on business matters, suggestions of who to trust and which friends to let go. He said that he’d report me to the guards for theft, make it look like I was stealing from the Duke if I didn’t go along with it. I believed he would do it. He wasn’t a nice man.”
“So the Duke’s brother told you what to say?”
Lorella nodded again, looking down. “If he’d have gone to the guards, lied to the Duke, I’d have been ruined. Jailed, maybe even hanged. I didn’t have a choice.”
Her confession rang of sincerity, and Rett gave an imperceptible nod, suggesting that he also found her story convincing.
“And you have no idea who tried to kill us back there? Because whoever it was, came around to the back and threw a couple more of those little ‘surprises,’ waiting for you to go out that way.”
“Think about who you’ve talked with lately,” Rett said. “Was someone angry with you?”
Lorella raised her bound wrists to cover her face with her hands. “Let me think,” she begged. “There’s been too much—”
They stood in silence for a few minutes as she recovered her composure. Lorella lowered her hands and looked up. “I can think of a couple of people. Maybe. A woman wanted to speak to her dead husband. She wanted to know if he’d cheated on her. His spirit refused to come. She cursed me and told me I was a fraud.” Lorella gave a harsh laugh. “If I’d been a fraud, I would have pretended her husband’s ghost told me whatever she wanted to hear. I can’t win.”
“And someone else?” Rett nudged.
“A man came to ask the ghost of his mother where she had hidden money. Her spirit did come, but she told him there was no money, that she had spent it long ago, and that she had nothing left. He got angry—with her and then with me. He cursed her and screamed at me, said I was lying, that the ghost had told me where the money was and I meant to steal it from him.” She gave a weary shrug. “I told him exactly what the ghost said. He was so angry, I was afraid, and I pulled out the knife I keep under my chair, just in case. Told him to leave and not come back. He left, but he spat on my front step and cursed me.”
Ridge met Rett’s gaze. “Offhand, I’d say he’s a likely suspect.”
Lorella looked at Ridge and frowned. “You’ve lost a daughter…” she murmured, her gaze fixed on something only she could see. Before he could refute her comment, she shook her head. “No. A sister. Young enough that you could have a daughter her age. Long ago. She says the others went on without her, but she stayed because she didn’t want you to still be angry with her.”
Ridge felt his heart thud but kept his face blank. “Why would I be angry?”
Lorella stared at the empty space, glancing at Ridge now and again as if she were having a silent conversation with someone who mentioned him. “She says the two of you fought before she got sick. She took something you wanted, and you were angry with her. Then she went to sleep. She’s sorry.”
Ridge knew Rett watched him carefully, questioningly. The incident lingered on the edge of Ridge’s memories before he had been dragged off to the orphanage. The last night before everything went to shit was spotty, such a long time ago, but he did remember arguing with Melly over chores, and she had snatched the last of the berries to get back at him. They’d had words, and by morning, Melly and the rest of the family had come down with fever. All but Ridge. And then they were gone.
“Lucky guess,” he said, though his throat was tight.
Lorella tilted her head as if to catch a whispered reply. “Melly. Her name was Melly, and she had a rope doll she called Tariann.”
Ridge’s eyes widened. That bit of information was too spot on, something he had never even confided to Rett, details no one else alive would have known. “She’s here? You can talk to her?”
“She’s beside you. And just so you know, she says that she’s scared for you. You should be more careful.” Despite their rocky introduction, Lorella’s lips twitched in an almost-smile.
Ridge groaned inwardly. An assassin’s life definitely wasn’t suitable for his little sister to have a front row seat.
“I’ll do my best,” he replied in a strangled voice. “And tell her I’m not angry. It didn’t matter. I’m sorry she went away. And I miss her.” He knew a chance existed that Lorella had pried the details from his mind with sly magic, but he doubted it. And if Melly had stuck close all this time, then it was time to make amends and set her free.
“She misses you, too,” Lorella replied. “And she’s tired, so she says the new brother can watch out for you.” Her eyes flickered toward Rett, who chuckled.
“Tell her that he does. We watch out for each other,” Ridge replied quietly. “Goodbye, Melly.”
Lorella watched the empty space just a bit longer, then looked to Rett, and a little behind him. “You look like her.”
“Melly?” Rett countered. “No relation—”
“No, the woman. She’s hardly older than a girl. Sister?” Lorella shook her head. “No. Mother. So young.” Her head inclined as if listening to whispers. “She died birthing you. Thought the others would take better care. Tries to watch over you. She’s sorry she had to leave.”
“So am I,” Rett said, his voice barely a whisper. Ridge watched his friend struggle to hide the emotions roiled by the medium’s words.
If I find out this is all a game, I’ll hand her over to the guards, warrant or not, Ridge promised.
“She’s glad you found a friend,” Lorella continued. “A brother. She just wanted you to know that she didn’t want to leave.”
“I figured,” Rett said, staring off, blinking. “Thought it must have been something like that.”
From what little Rett said about his time before the orphanage, Ridge gathered life had been hard and hungry. Whoever had sheltered Rett as an infant had put him out to fend for himself practically as soon as he could hold a cup. If Rett remembered anyone fondly from those years—or much at all about that time—he had never said so to Ridge, not even in the throes of fever or drunk off his ass.
“You’ve proved your point.” Ridge’s voice sounded like gravel, but he’d had enough emotional exposure. “Maybe your abilities aren’t a sham.”
Lorella gave a derisive snort in response. “Would you like me to call up some of the ghosts of the men you’ve murdered? I imagine they’d like to pass along a message or two.”
Assassin's Honor (Assassins of Landria Book 1) Page 9
