by Mike Smith
Crossing her arms immediately drew Alex’s attention to her clothes, or lack thereof, having been too busy to notice that she’d finally managed to unwrap herself from the bed sheet. For the thin white camisole and gauzy matching trousers that she wore, while covering her, left little to the imagination. Tearing his gaze from her, he crossed the room in a few long strides, catching her by the arm on the way and pulling her in the direction of the open balcony doors. “We’re leaving a different way,” he announced, pushing aside the thin gossamer curtain to reveal the small, private balcony.
“That doesn’t lead anywhere,” she insisted.
“Not true,” Alex disagreed, glancing over the side of the balcony into the dark. He could just make out the still waters, from the garden’s ornamental lake, as the moonlight illuminated the calm water. It was at least a thirty foot drop from the balcony. “Probably white wasn’t the best choice for sleepwear tonight,” he smirked. “I hope that you can swim.”
Jessica’s eyes went wide, when she finally caught on to his meaning. “You’re mad,” she exclaimed in disbelief, as awareness finally dawned. “If you think I’m going to jump off my own balcony, simply to facilitate your escape. Never going to happen. You will have to shoot me first,” she added belligerently, planting her feet firmly on the balcony.
Alex followed her gaze to his pistol, momentarily contemplating doing exactly that. Eventually he discarded the idea. She would be no use to him dead. So with a devilish grin he took a step forward, easily sweeping her up, into his arms.
“What are you doing?” she cried out in surprise, shocked by his actions.
“Just doing what you asked, Princess,” he laughed. “Seeing that you said you would never jump off your own balcony. I’ll just have to throw you. Now hold your breath.” With that he casually tossed her over the side. The ear-splitting scream from her on the way down that seemed to fade in-and-out in that strange Doppler affect, was abruptly cut-off by a splash from somewhere far below. Audibly proving that she hadn’t listened to his advice.
Alex shook his head in disbelief, briefly glancing at the two bodies, as he turned back into her bedroom. Snatching the bloodied leather bound book from her bed, slipping it inside his cloak and the lightweight tactical armour that he was wearing underneath. Fortunately, the fragmenting rounds that the assassin was firing, had failed to penetrate the armour. As he made his way back outside, the sound of cracking wood could be heard, as Lord Hadley’s guards finally broke down the bedroom door. Alex quickened his pace, hopping over the balcony railing and allowing darkness to engulf him.
*****
It wasn’t so much the impact of the water that shocked him, as the cold. It ran along his nerve endings, making him gasp in shock. A big mistake, as he was still several feet underwater. Eventually he broke the surface, with much coughing and spluttering. He managed to catch his breath, spitting out all the water that he had swallowed. He looked around, but the darkness was draped like a veil all around him and, therefore, with a shrug he swam forward, assuming that he would reach the shore eventually.
He arrived less than a minute later, gratefully dragging himself up the slippery slope, as the armour that he wore had become waterlogged and the heavy weight kept dragging him back under the dark waters. But now he was firmly on dry land his thoughts turned back to Lady Jessica, wondering where she might be. Struggling to his knees he frantically looked all round, but couldn’t make out anything. She did know how to swim, didn’t she?
He could feel the first traces of panic nipping at his thoughts, when a splash behind him caused him to swing around. Relief was the first thing to wash over him, as before him stood Lady Jessica, looking much like a drowned rat. With her hair plastered to her face and, as for her clothes, they were plastered to her like a second skin and were now almost transparent. She looked like a scene from Botticelli’s painting of Venus rising from the waves, in other words, spectacular.
“I told you white wasn’t a good idea, although I must say you look—”
Whatever else he was going to say was abruptly cut-off, as for the second time in the space of an hour, Lady Jessica Hadley slugged him. This time without the aid of a pistol. Still, the force of her fist, catching him under the jaw, was still strong enough to knock him backwards, back into the water.
“Would you stop hitting me,” Alex roared stumbling to his feet, dripping wet, again. “Otherwise I’ll take you back home and let you take your chances. I don’t know about you, but I think your personal security is a joke. As only tonight three strangers, two of whom are now dead, strolled unchallenged into your private apartment.”
“I’ll take my chances with the dead, thanks,” Jessica sniffed. Abruptly crossing her arms against her chest when she realised just how transparent her clothes now were. “Having just been thrown out of a window, I’m not going anywhere with you. What next?” She shook her head in disbelief, before turning her back on him.
“Oh no you don’t,” Alex exclaimed angrily, sending droplets of water flying everywhere. Taking a firm hold of her arm, again, before he lost her twice in one night. “I’ve gone through far too much trouble tonight, simply to allow you to wander off and get yourself killed. You’re staying with me until I find out who set me up.”
“I repeat,” she uttered contemptuously. “I’m not going anywhere with you. If you don’t release me this instant, I swear I’ll scream my head off, so long and loud that along with bursting your eardrums it’ll bring the entire Fifth Division, running.”
“You know your earlier offer, to just shoot you, is starting to sound really tempting right about now.”
“Go ahead,” she stared daggers at him. “For that’s the only way that I’ll ever accompany you.”
“Your choice,” he shrugged, drawing his pistol. He had a momentarily impression of her shocked, disbelieving face as he raised the pistol. With a piercing whine the beam engulfed her and she dropped to the floor, motionless.
Alex sighed, as he reached down, picking her up. Amazed that she seemed to weigh next to nothing, she was nothing but a waif. Knowing his luck she would wake up hungry and was probably going to expect him to feed her too.
His thoughts were as dark as the surrounding skies as he trudged, waterlogged, back to his concealed ship and then home.
Chapter Five
Interlude.
The crackling fire was the only illumination in the darkened room. The towering flames kept away the chill that engulfed the rest of the rooms. The result of the building’s advanced climate control system and nothing to do with the mild weather outside.
It amused the man, seated in the armchair positioned close to the roaring flames so as to absorb the heat from the fire. After all, was he not a God who had control over the basic elements—Earth, Wind, Fire and Water? As well as life and death, of course, all of which he held in the palm of his hand. Through the slightly ajar doors he observed, with some amusement, the naked woman shivering on his bed. She made no move to wrap her arms around herself or to move under the covers, as he’d expressly forbid either.
She wasn’t stupid enough to defy a God, unlike some others.
Anyway, at this rate she was likely to die from exposure, long before he arrived at that entertainment he had planned for the evening. For it wasn’t life that he was interested in this night, but death.
It was a long time later, when a firm banging on the door announced the arrival of his emissary. The man entered a few moments later, much to the annoyance of his master. The emissary smirked, standing tall, overly confident in his own strength and prowess. Many would have considered the man’s looks almost angelic, with his high cheekbones, sky-blue eyes and mop of curly, blond hair. It irked the master greatly, along with the man’s air of casual, arrogant, superiority. A reckoning was long overdue, a reminder of who was master and who was servant, but that lesson would have to wait for another day, as today the master was impatient for news.
“You’re late.”
&n
bsp; While only two words, they carried a massive subtext of information. From simple demands to know the reason for the delay, to the lethal repercussions in the event of failure. As tonight was the first step in a plan that had been decades in the making and nothing could afford to—
“—Gone wrong.”
The sudden flaring of the fire was in perfect symphony to its master’s rage. The broken shards of what once had been a whiskey sniffer-glass raining down onto the flames.
Javier reared back, his master’s wrath a terrible thing. “It’s not my fault, my Lord,” he blanched, cowering in the face of such fury. “The mercenary that we hired. He killed our man. Now he’s missing, along with Lady Jessica Hadley.”
“The mercenary that you hired,” his master swiftly corrected him.
“Yes, my Lord,” Javier humbly agreed. “With the girl missing, her family are working on the assumption that it was a kidnapping. They’re expecting a ransom—it’s usual in cases such as this.”
“Then I expect you to find them. First. It would hardly be the first time that such misadventures have ended, badly. Don’t return until you’ve found both of them.”
“Yes, my Lord. The mercenary was hired via an intermediary. We’ll follow up with him first. I’m sure he could be persuaded to give up the identity of the mercenary.”
“No loose ends.”
“Understood, my Lord.” Javier bowed deeply and, as he did so, caught sight of the raven-haired beauty, kneeling on his master’s bed, head bowed in subjugation. Javier’s eyes feasted hungrily on the naked, pale flesh, on display.
“I reward my loyal subjects for their successes, not their abject failures,” his master interrupted his thoughts, observing the direction of his gaze.
Once his servant had departed, closing the door firmly behind him, the master turned to face the flames thoughtfully once again. He had met the Hadley girl once before, much taken aback by her haughty attitude, aloofness and general sense of moral superiority. A large part of him had been looking forward to the news of her death with that grin wiped from her face, forever.
Well, if her death had to be postponed, then another could easily be arranged in its place, looking at his bed, towards his latest sacrifice, waiting patiently for his arrival. After all, sacrifices to Gods could only be made with blood.
Chapter Six
I’ve been to Hell and there is no fire, or brimstone. No screams of unending torture, or lost souls crying out for redemption. Hell is complete darkness, with no sight or sound. Just you, alone, with your thoughts, for all eternity.
—From the journal of Lord Alexander Greystone
Jessica was adrift on a sea of emotion. What was happening to her? Her control dissolved, knowing she had not lost it, but deliberately buried it. This man didn’t play by the rules; a man should not kiss like this, acting as if he could read her mind. As though he meant to express permanent, meaningful, devotion. She was utterly lost. A small voice warned she would be sorry if she surrendered to this man, but it was very weak and his mouth on hers burned hot, making her feel as if she was soaring.
As always she could never see her dream lover, his face shrouded by shadow, as if the very darkness itself clung to him, concealing him. Only his eyes were clearly visible. Dark brown, almost black, clouded with desire.
His lips moved away from her swollen lips, kissing her cheek, following a trail to her ear, biting gently, but hard enough to make her gasp. But he didn’t dwell for long there, kissing down her neck, making her arc her head to give him better access. But still he didn’t linger, instead kissing lower and lower until she felt branded by him, making her cry out loud.
She snapped her eyes open.
Her body trembled from the intensity of the dream. She could still feel her dream lover’s kisses, like warm silk against her breast. Suddenly, overheated, she pushed the heavy blanket away from her flushed body. Which revealed the second surprise—
The reason that she felt warm silk pressed to her skin, was because she wore a rose coloured silk negligee that she neither owned nor had ever seen before. It seemed to be tailored however for somebody a good few inches shorter than her, as it barley reached her thighs. It made her feel indecently exposed, even if the silk against her overheated flesh felt decadent.
A quick glance around revealed a bedroom, which she also failed to recognise, but thankfully she was the only occupant. Now that the blankets no longer covered her and her overheated body started to cool, she suddenly felt chilled. A small fire took up one length of the room, but it must have gone out some hours earlier, as it offered no warmth. Someone obviously had prepared for this eventuality, as she observed a matching satin dressing gown, in the same colour, lying on the back of a chair. She hurriedly donned it, somewhat disheartened to discover that it hardly covered much more skin, barely reaching her knees, but at least it afforded some warmth, if not modesty. Now dressed, somewhat, she took to exploring her immediate surroundings. The room was tastefully decorated, but in strong, masculine colours, with dark oak furniture, a worn beige carpet and dark green blankets covering the bed.
Peeking inside the large wardrobe, she found worn shirts and faded jackets, the drawers revealed rough-spun trousers, the kind perhaps worn by one of her family’s workers. She was about to close the wardrobe when a flash of black at the very back, drew her attention. Carefully pushing aside the other clothes, she was astonished to find a uniform of the very darkest black. Unlike the other rough clothes, this was made of the finest material, spotless. She recognised the silver oak leaf on the lapel, signifying the rank of Lieutenant-Colonel, as she’d met other officers at various balls and functions, but the other insignia on the uniform she didn’t recognise. Certainly the uniform didn’t belong to anybody in her father’s armed forces.
Having exhausted all other avenues of investigation, Jessica hesitantly made her way towards the only door in the room, and was more than a little surprised that it opened when she tried the handle. She had been sure that it would be locked. The open door revealed a long, empty corridor, again with faded carpets, but this time a navy-blue colour. Closing the door softly behind her, she had only taken a few steps when she heard the first growl.
It started low, almost below the range of human hearing, but rapidly increased both in pitch and volume. The sound sent a shiver of fear down her spine, it was instinctive, an evolutionary reminder that it wasn’t many generations ago that she might have been fleeing a pack of such vicious, hungry predators. A quick look down revealed what she’d missed at first glance. For there, lying on the floor, two massive paws extended, was the spawn of Satan. It couldn’t be a dog, as she had seen these before. Small meek little things, carried around by their owners, usually with little bonnets on their heads. This thing was massive. It was difficult to judge with it sitting on the floor, growling at her, but she guessed it must weigh almost three hundred pounds. The beast was about as tall as her, but it was his eyes that guaranteed that he’d escaped from the pits of hell, a sulphur yellow, with two black bottomless holes at the centre. From his gaping jaw, where the terrifying growl originated, she could see not so much teeth as fangs, obviously designed for tearing into young women and chewing them into bite-sized pieces.
She froze where she stood, a quick glance behind her showed that the door was now out of reach and anyway she would be dead before she could even get it half open. Therefore, there was no other option but to face the threat, head-on.
“Sit!”
The beast glanced up at her, before looking down at its paws stretched out on the carpet. It cocked his head sideways, with a puzzled expression on his face.
“Right, of course,” Jessica cleared her throat, embarrassed that she was being put in her place by a canine, or at least a distant relative to one. “Stay!” she ordered, putting as much authority in her voice as she could muster.
The multi-fanged monster continued to stare at her, before scratching behind its ear with a hind leg.
Je
ssica tried not to gasp at the size of the claws on display, before taking a hesitant step to one side. When nothing happened she took another tentative pace forward. This time when she took another step the hellhound shuffled around until he could observe her progress. A few more steps and she was alongside the creature, who was still looking at her. “Uh, well done,” she praised, not sure what else to say, having run out of her repertoire of canine instructions. Still, she felt that he deserved some sort of reward, you know, for not eating her. “Well, you can rollover now,” she relented; stunned to observe the beast did exactly that, showing his soft underbelly. Some instinct, long buried, made her self-consciously reach out and give his soft belly a rub, quickly snatching her hand back, before it was bitten off.
But instead, she was shocked to hear the growling had now changed to something softer, almost a purr of delight. So she did it again, this time bending down to tickle him on his soft belly. She was, in turn, rewarded by a long sloppy kiss on her face, from his rough tongue. “Well, you’re nothing but a big softy, aren't you?” and proceeded to vigorously rub his belly, giggling at the sloppy kisses that she received in return.
It was probably not the most dignified position to be found in, when some time later a loud cough interrupted the two of them. Looking up in surprise, Jessica observed a far older, kindly looking woman, dressed in a worn ankle length dress, with a white apron. It was about the last thing that she had expected to see.
“Lucifer, down,” the woman snapped. “How many times have I told you? You cannot go around mauling all of our guests. I’ll be cleaning those clothes for the next month, trying to get all your hairs out of them.” Astonishingly, the monster immediately withdrew, his head hanging low, as he sulked away. “I believe the master has a bone for you, left over from last night. He’s in the breakfast room,” the woman added after a momentarily hesitation, perhaps realising that she’d been too hard on him. The reaction was instantaneous as the four-legged hound shot off like an arrow fired from a bow.
