by DA Chaney
Softening, Ed shrugged, “I’m a no one. Wouldn’t have been a need.” It didn’t stop her from being jealous that he’d been able to get some shut-eye though. The flaming prick.
“Perhaps not, though it might have at least been a polite thing to have done.” He leaned forward and peered out of the carriage. Almost immediately the door came open and the driver’s form filled the space carrying a lantern. “Mr. Swicker, something doesn’t seem right.”
Swicker frowned and exited quickly. Wanting nothing more than to leave the carriage, Ed was only a step behind him and she nearly fell on him when he stopped directly in her path. Swicker’s hand shot out and grabbed her shoulder before she could topple onto him.
Ed looked around the grounds and felt a cold feeling settle over her. She’d never been into religion one way or the other, belief never put food on her table, but she didn’t like the sensation in the slightest. Something didn’t seem right. The most disturbing part was why the door to a fancy estate would be wide open in the middle of the night for anyone to walk right in. With no one to guard it or come to see who’d arrived. Their carriage would have been viewable from at least half a mile off, and yet there was no one. It was no warm welcome, whatever Swicker had believed to be true upon their arrival. She’d never seen any place like this; both great and terrifying at the same time.
With a grim look on his face, he spoke to the driver. “Mr. Barlowe, seeing as though it is the very dead of night, please escort this young man to the servants’ quarters off of the stables for the night.” Ed opened her mouth to start to ask about Brock, but Swicker held up a finger and inclined his head toward her. “I understand your desire to find your companion, but I have no intention to wake everyone for a cheery late night reunion. Besides, you could use the sleep and probably something to eat before dawn breaks. And I need to...” he trailed off, “see about the manner to which I’ve returned to.”
The rain cooled her heated skin as swayed on her feet. She was wary to let Swicker know how much she was dying to close her eyes and fall asleep. She could have gleefully curled up into a ball in the middle of the courtyard and slept with the rain making her shrivel like pruned fruit if Swicker hadn’t been there. The swelling of her face when they first met didn’t add to her case either. She did not want to show him anymore weakness. He’d already seen her rump get handed to her by a bunch of street kids and the thought didn’t settle well in her stomach. It galled her to have needed help from the tangle of dirty street kids.
Catching herself in a stumble that she tried to pass off as moving away from Swicker, she forced herself to shrug as if she didn’t care one way or the other. Whether the movement was noticed or not was hard to tell since her eyes felt as though they were ready to crawl out of her sockets and cheerfully soak up the rain.
“Now, Ed, please follow Mr. Barlowe and he will see you put up for the night.” Swicker gave her a small push in the man’s direction. Barlowe was tall, with a thick bulging waistline that implied he ate well regularly. He stared down at her with an annoyed look on his face. He had perhaps expected disheveled men from Lock’s Landing, but not a skinny kid to journey with Swicker. He looked unsure as to why this boy had been brought along to begin with. Ed mirrored his expression as she looked back at him.
“This way,” Barlowe said, a corner of his mouth upturned in a sneer. When they moved away from Swicker, who was watching them as they walked away, Barlowe whispered down at Ed, “I have my eye on you, kid. If anything goes missing around here, I’m coming after you.”
Ed yawned, unimpressed with his threat, and so exhausted that the large boots on her feet caused her to misstep and lurch forward. “Other than people, you mean?” Barlowe grunted when Ed gestured around the courtyard. Glaring down at her, he pushed her small form ahead of him. If only I was bigger...no one would push me around, she thought bitterly.
Barlowe opened the stable door and motioned for Ed to go first. The room behind the stables was no prize, and it smelled of wet hay and horse manure, but it was still better than some places that Ed had been forced to find sleep in. That awful goat shack. At least the rain could not get through the roof of this place…and that was a big plus. Rain was most definitely on her naughty list. Barlowe motioned to the back of the stables as Ed trudged along, boots dragging, with a mix of pride and exhaustion marching her forward. Just a little farther...
She glanced at Barlowe who gestured impatiently at a door off to the side of the large stables and rolled his eyes as if she should have known where they were going. Sliding the door the door aside, she peeked in. A lamp was burning low and three cots with blankets were spread around the room. In the center of the room, bread and cheese had fallen on the floor while a mug remained upright on the table. Throwing a disgusted look at Barlowe, she stepped inside. Of course she would need to eat her meal off the ground. Why would she have expected to find it sitting upright on the table? Factoring in the cots, and counting the bread and cheese on the floor, it was obvious that they had been expecting more men to arrive with Swicker.
Barlowe grunted at her and, without another word, closed the door behind him. Quickly, she crossed to the table and squatted near the food collecting it all and placing it on the table. Finding a cheese knife near a table leg on the floor, she picked it up and looked it over. It wasn’t very sharp but the blade was new and of fine quality as far as she could tell. Until she could get it sharpened better, the tip would do. Or she’d have to press real hard to cut anything. She glanced around and upon seeing no one, slipped it into her pocket.
Ed reached for the mug and found it half full. She barely tasted the bitter ale. Then Ed attacked the dirty cheese and bread using her fingers, with the mind set of a person who had been on the borderline of starvation. The bread was rough because it’d been left out in the air but her teeth tore through it not wanting to waste time to soften it. She swallowed and pushed a whole wedge of cheese in her mouth next and moaned at the sharp taste bursting in her mouth. Regardless of how she’d found it, it was far better food than she’d eaten in weeks and she began chewing faster, stuffing her mouth rapidly. No wonder Brock had volunteered his services. He must have known the estate had good digs.
Slurping the ale from the mug, she looked around the dim room and she wondered if Brock was right now, sleeping in a similar room somewhere on the grounds.
Not long after she ate, she realized that her bladder was begging for release. She looked for some place private. She wasn’t accustomed to using chamber pots, given that the majority of places that she slept in were public, so she wasn’t sure where she should look for one. She’d always found a quiet place away from prying eyes and used nature’s toilet.
She wondered if Barlowe was guarding the door. The problem with finding a suitable place to urinate was the possibility of someone coming in through the door at the wrong moment. She had, years ago, perfected urinating standing up, but it still required some finesse and privacy. The idea was, in the extreme circumstances where she couldn’t squat, to do so standing up. Over time she had started to do it all the time to help keep with the role of being male. The risk was still high that she could be seen, but not as high as if she squatted when she thought no one was around.
Walking to an empty corner nearest the door, her boots kicked something on the floor. The clatter startled her momentarily, but the tinny sound assured her that someone somewhere had known it was a good place to put a chamber pot. Luckily it hadn’t seemed to have been used yet. Otherwise, in the best case scenario, right now she’d have had urine all over her boots.
As she watched the door like a hawk, she quickly untied the double-knot in her trousers, pushed the material aside, stuck two fingers inside to position herself to help guide the stream of urine. Then she pushed out hard with her stomach muscles. Exhaling with a sense of satisfaction at the pressure diminishing in her bowels, she finished abruptly before she could drip. Stepping back, she retied her trousers feeling much better. It had been
a messy experience to learn, but such things were necessary when men were around.
Feeling ten times better, she returned to the table and took a long, deep drink. It sent her into a coughing fit as her lungs protested against the intrusion of ale, having swallowed the wrong way. The coughing fit, while mild, sent her to her knees as they gave out from absolute exhaustion. Leaning her forehead against the floor, she coughed until her lungs were appeased.
Cracking open her protesting eyes, she reached up to the table to grab a hunk of bread and a wedge of cheese and mindlessly crawled toward an abandoned cot. Pushing her body onto it, she curled around her food and fell asleep without eating them, but kept them close…just in case.
9
Ed woke reluctantly to the sound of thumping.
Bleary eyed, she unfurled from her ball and looked around. She almost didn’t remember where she was, but the lantern was still burning which helped her to bring the room into focus. Clutched against her chest, she found the cheese and bread and immediately began shoving pieces into her mouth. She was starving again. What time was it anyway? How much time had passed?
Pushing herself into a sitting position, she swung her legs out and off of the bed as she chewed. Her eyes locked onto the table in the center of the room. Since the ale was gone, thanks to her overkill, her mouth was dry. The thumping noise came again and she glanced toward the sliding door. Someone seemed to be banging against it. Was it time to get up already? She knew that she could easily have slept longer if she hadn’t been interrupted.
She finished the food and acknowledged the person knocking. “Coming.” Quickly, she crossed to the chamber pot to make use of it one more time. She didn’t know what the day might hold for her. She suspected meeting up with Brock and hunting down the animals that were loose would be an all-male priority; and who knew when she’d get another chance to go. Afterwards, Ed stretched her back muscles and rolled her neck.
Moving to the door, she slid it open, and jumped back when a figure fell to the floor inside the door. Squinting to make it out, she realized that it was Barlowe. “Have too much to drink or what?” Ed allowed herself a laugh, but then stopped as her new wounds compounded with old ones made the movement painful. She looked past the door and wasn’t overly surprised to see that it was still dark out considering how tired she still was. She might have gotten a few hours in, but it was hard to tell. It seemed as though the rain had stopped though.
“Know where I can find Mr. Swicker?” She was walking from the room when Barlowe grabbed a hold of her boot, scratching at it like he wanted to burrow his fingers into her foot. Frowning down at him, she shook his grip off and moved away from him to get a better look.
He was groaning at her from the ground, his mouth working as if trying to talk to her and his eyes roaming her body. The sight gave her goose bumps and she walked away from him down into the stables. It hadn’t occurred to her earlier, but it was odd that there were any cattle or horses in the stables, just the smell of wet hay. Had the group of men taken all the horses for the hunt? They obviously weren’t back yet or they would have found her holed up in their accommodations for the night.
The stalls were all darkened since there were no lights lit in the stables. Spotting a box full of ready-to-use torches meant for the grounds, she pulled one up and crossed back into the room. Barlowe lay on the floor unmoving as she walked around him. Opening the lantern, she let the end touch the flame inside. If she was going to walk around, she’d need to be able to see. The lantern was dying anyway and she had no way of knowing where additional candles were to keep it lit.
Leaving Barlowe in his drunken stupor, she exited the stables and crossed the courtyard and began lighting the torches along some of the structures so that she could see better. The carriage was gone and the door to the manor was still open, looking dark and creepy inside. Something just didn’t seem right about the place. She didn’t see any lights lit through the windows there either. Wouldn’t somebody have lit the lights themselves? There was no one to be seen, which struck her as just as odd as when they’d first arrived. Where was Swicker? For that matter, where was Brock?
Avoiding the front door she moved along the courtyard and walked off toward the gardens with their tall hedges, lighting torches to see along the way. She had no intentions of going into them, since they served no purpose, but a noise behind her made her turn and look back the way she’d come. Barlowe stood in the stable’s doorway. Cocking an eyebrow, she was about to call out an insult in his direction about being drunk on the job when something odd shocked her.
Jaw dropping, she took a step forward and was confused with what she saw. Then, realizing he was watching her, she turned and ran into the gardens without a word. Did she just see what she thought she saw? She wanted to drop the torch, but it was the only way that she could see where she was going so she continued to run, flame sputtering as she did so.
Her mind raced as the horror of the situation fell over her. What the bloody hell was going on around here? She wondered. Barlowe’s stomach had been torn out, and most of the left side of his face—that had been completely hidden from her before—had been missing. Thick ropy insides had been spilling from the hole in his gut and his neck was crooked as if it’d been broken. She’d seen plenty of dead bodies in her life to know that Barlowe should not be upright, let alone standing in a doorway watching her like that. There was no way. She’d seen corpses with lesser injuries who’d met their maker. Barlowe was far worse off. Her instinct had warned her when they arrived that something was wrong, but she’d forgotten it in a haze of sleep and food.
She cringed when she remembered him grabbing onto her boot earlier. Had he been trying to ask for help and she shook him off? She felt no remorse for the man since she had no real liking of him, but the idea that she hadn’t even noticed his condition bothered her. She ran past the middle of the garden unable to marvel, as was intended, at the small prayer chapel that had been built there. Darting past it, she found another path leading away from the center and out into another path. Here she was, running again. After tonight, she was done with this twisted whole place. This was the last time that she would step a foot in or around Lock’s Landing.
When she met a dead end of shrubs, she skidded to a halt and swore at the greenery. Who built something like this? Did rich people sit around and dream up ways to keep from getting bored? Oh, let’s build a game where no one can get out. Brilliant idea. She hoped that she could meet these people to tell them what a stupid idea it was. Heart pounding in her throat, she backtracked long enough to choose a new one and to realize that Barlowe was chasing after her. She hadn’t been sure at first, but there was no mistaking it now. Ed wasn’t able to tell how quickly he was able to move, but the grunting and groaning sounds that he made announced his presence within the gardens. A place he shouldn’t have been able to get to with those kinds of wounds.
At least he’s noisy, she consoled herself. I can hear him coming.
Heart racing, she reached the end of the gardens and burst out of them wondering if this whole week had been punishment for poaching bodies and selling them to a sawbones. It had been nothing but one bad moment to the next and now she was being chased by, from what she could tell, a dead man. Perfect. Really, she could now go and find a job telling fanciful tales to visitors who traveled along the sea at this rate. And people still wouldn’t believe her.
Ed ran toward a large tree and braced against it trying to catch her breath, watching the garden. Would he find the way out or stay trapped in there? When a wall of shrubs began to shake like it was in a windstorm, she shook her head realizing that Barlowe was trying to walk directly through the hedge instead of following the path to reach her. The thought hadn’t crossed her mind, but at the way he beat at the hedge, she wondered if it’d really been an option anyway.
Pushing past the tree, she saw that there was no way to get back to the front of the courtyard, and that the manor ran in a straight wall along the l
and. Her only option would be to go the way she’d come or follow the wall along the back of the manor and hope for an entrance to get inside. Running along the wall seemed to be the wisest decision currently, seeing as though she didn’t want to get into a fight with a dead man.
The wall continued on and it seemed like she ran forever. Every once in a while she would almost seem to catch a glimpse of someone in a window as she passed, torch in hand. At one point, she heard the sound of breaking glass but did not stop to investigate. She didn’t dare.
Sweat ran in rivulets down her back as she finally came to a corner. She quickly followed along the back side of the manor and saw a door with a wood awning over it. Ed sagged in relief and went to it, her legs feeling as though they might give out. Reaching the door, she tugged on it. It came open easily in her hand but she jumped back in shock as two bodies fell out through the door at her.
It looked as if they had reached the door on the inside, intent on making it outside, and almost made it when they had been attacked. The person doing the attacking resembled what Barlowe had looked like except she was missing an entire arm and her chest was ripped open. Bloody strips of flesh and clothing hung limply as Ed was able to see the makings of ribs.
Her feast was a tall man that looked to be in his twenties who was missing most of the right side of his face. Somehow, through the deadly onslaught, he seemed to reach out for her, begging for help. Ed stumbled backwards and almost tripped over her own feet. The smell rolling off them was clogging her nose. Sweat and blood mingled like a thick soup. That’s when she noticed that two more figures were running toward her from the corner of the manor; Barlowe and another person that she didn’t recognize.
Ed groaned and turned, forcing herself run away from the door and the figures striding toward her while she heard terrified yelping from somewhere behind her. She didn’t dare turn around and look.
