“Did you?” Ella looked surprised by his confession. “Did you want to talk about it?”
“Aye. My mother was a whore. She'd bring all sorts of men to our home at all hours of the day. My father was a drunk and a murderer. He wasn't around much. And when he was around, he beat me. It really broke this boy's heart.”
“Really?” Ella offered a sympathetic frown. “That's so sad.”
“Yeah... it would be sad... if it wasn't a complete and total load of bollocks.”
“Kieran!” She gasped his name. “How is someone supposed to know when you're telling the truth? You shouldn't lie about things like that!”
“Sorry.” His half-hearted apology couldn't have sounded less genuine. “Not everyone can have a sob story, right? To be honest, I probably had it easier than most kids. My mother was an engineer and my father owned a mining company. I was a spoiled little shit. I have no idea how I turned out this way. I guess I'm just an asshole.”
When a firefly flashed a few inches from Ella's face, her body jolted with alarm. The songs of nighttime insects were already making her wish she never stepped outside. It didn't help that there was a giant spider dangling from the inn's roof—and it cast an even larger shadow.
“Let's go back in!” Ella suddenly seized Kieran's arm and dragged him to the inn's front door.
“Well, that was a depressingly short stroll, Miss Clark. Did I say something to upset you?”
“No. There were... bugs.” Ella winced at the word. “And when I saw the spider, it was more than I could handle.”
When they arrived at the inn's entrance, Kieran held the door for her. “I'm probably the biggest bug of all, no?”
“Not quite. Spiders are worse. Spiders are heinous!”
“I'm pretty heinous myself, though,” Kieran claimed as he followed her up the staircase. “I'm sure I'll work my way up your list.”
When she reached the top step, Ella paused and turned in Kieran's direction. “Actually,” she said, “your company was surprisingly pleasant.”
“Nooo! I never wanted to be pleasant. You're ruining my perception of myself, Ella. I'm so ashamed right now.”
“Well... I'm telling you the truth. You were pleasant! Sorry.” Ella flashed another smile before resuming the march to her room. With a resolute nod, she added, “I'm glad I got to know you better.”
Twenty Nine
“And so... the question is... who would like to go first?”
The father was trying to stay calm for his children, but the youngest two were crying. The eldest boy, who was barely eighteen, tried to stare down the man in black, but it was false bravado. Like his siblings, he was terrified.
“Is it you?” Callum chuckled as he leaned closer to one of the youngest. “Would you like to be the brave one? The middle child is often the neglected one, isn't he? Would you like a chance to shine, child?” Callum ruffled the boy's hair and patted his cheek. “What's your name, little boy?”
“Da-David, sir,” the young man stuttered.
“Sir! So respectful! I like it!” Callum turned to his two friends, Jackal and Noah, and gave them a wink. “How old are you Da-David?”
“Fourteen.”
“Fourteen. Aww. Still a baby! But you have to be strong for your little brother, right?” Callum pointed at the smaller boy next to David. “Come on. Be brave. Step forward.”
As Callum pulled David out of the line-up, the father shouted, “No! You bastard, don't hurt him!” His outburst earned him a whack in the head from Jackal's rifle. When he fell, Noah dragged him back to his feet.
“I think you need a little history lesson, David. I'll tell you a story. Do you like stories?” Callum's teeth were bared by a grin. “Eversio. Have you heard of us before? Because if you haven't, you should learn. A long, long time ago, your daddy supported the wrong people. He sided with the emperor. And because the emperor had no heart, bad things happened to a lot of decent folks. And now the only answer to violence... is more violence. That's the only way to get the message across. Do you know what that means, David?”
“I... I don't know, sir.” David scratched his cheek as he answered the question.
“Aww, do you have an itch? Let me take care of that for you!” Callum scratched David's cheek with the barrel of his pistol. Tears flooded the boy's eyes as the gun was slowly dragged across his face. “There? Is that all better?”
“No.” Every time he spoke, David's voice trembled.
When Callum saw the dark patch on the front of the boy's breeches, he laughed. “Did you piss yourself? God. I don't think I've ever made someone piss themselves before! That's amazing!”
A deeper voice suddenly demanded, “Stop messing with the boy, Callum. Unlike the emperor, we're not child torturers.”
Callum turned in the direction of the hooded figure who spoke. “I'm sorry, sir... sorry,” he said with a bow. When he faced the boy again, Callum raked a hand through his own messy black hair. Callum's eyes, which were already small and seedy, were narrowed. Callum was lanky, almost skeletal, and as pale as corpses. He couldn't look friendly if he tried. “You know, I almost wish I would've picked your dad or big brother. I could've had a little fun with them first... but oh well.” Callum raised the pistol and fired, giving the boy a quick execution. Behind him, he could hear the rest of the family bellowing their pain.
“Do the older brother next,” demanded the hooded figure. “Then the father. We'll save the small one for the end, and I'll make it painless for him.”
As Noah shoved the eldest brother forward, he was chuckling. “I don't know, sir. The boy's going to see the rest of his family executed and tortured in front of him. I'd say that's pretty painful.”
“Blindfold him, then,” the hooded figure demanded. “I don't want him to suffer as we have suffered.”
As Callum tied a bandana around the youngest brother's eyes, Noah pulled out a knife and ran it across the oldest brother's collarbone. “So, how do you want to die?” he asked. “Slowly... quickly? Do you want a knife through the throat or a bullet in the head?” In a whisper, he added, “I'd go with bullet, myself.”
The oldest brother spat on Noah's shoes and replied, “Go to hell.”
“Well... shit. That's about the worst thing you could've done!” Noah slapped his head. “Get down on your knees.”
“Don't listen to him, Will!” the father screamed. “You don't have to do anything he says!”
“Get down on your knees... pretty please?” Noah batted his eyelashes, but when that didn't work, he gave a nod to Jackal. “Cut one off.”
Jackal's eyes were lit with anticipation as he lifted the man's hand. He whooped with animal-like laughter—which was how he earned his nickname—as he severed the father's ring finger. “You didn't need that one, did you?” a cackling Jackal asked.
“Give it to me,” Callum demanded. When he held out his hand, Jackal dropped the severed finger into his palm. Callum brought the finger to his lips, as if he was smoking a cigar. “How do I look?”
“Very posh,” Jackal matter-of-factly stated. “I like your finger-cigar.”
Noah's blue eyes rolled as he watched his friend's antics. All three of them were of a similar age, somewhere in their twenties, but they made him feel like an old man sometimes. Noah was the sane one, or so he believed. “So... I'll ask you again,” Noah addressed the eldest brother. “Will you get down on your knees?”
Because he didn't want his father to suffer more, Will obeyed. His eyes were filled with tears, but he hoped they wouldn't notice. He didn't want to be teased for succumbing to his fear.
“I have a thing for Native Columbigans,” Noah told him. “Their culture, their history... their women. Especially their women.” Noah winked. “They have this thing about scalping, and well... I've always wanted to try it.”
When Noah grabbed the young man's hair and started sawing away at his scalp, Callum and Jackal had to work together to hold back his screaming father. Noah whistled as he cut, a
nd when he was done, he pitched the bloody scalp over his shoulder. “That was messier than I thought,” Noah said with a sigh. “And it wasn't that fun, actually. What a shame.”
Will was still alive, and heaving with sobs, so Noah put him out of his misery with a knife to the forehead.
Finally, Jackal and Callum dragged the father forward. The youngest boy, still blindfolded, was calling out for him.
“It's okay, Timothy!” the father cried, even though his face was flooded with tears. “It's okay... it'll all be over soon.”
“Indeed it will! And it's my turn!” Jackal exclaimed. He yanked Noah's knife from his hand and wiped the bloody blade across his forehead. He ran the other side of the knife down his cheek, coating his face in the son's blood. When his entire face was covered, Jackal howled with laughter and kicked the father's legs.
“Get on with it, Jackal!” demanded the hooded man. “This is taking too long. There are other things we need to finish tonight.”
“Do you know who that is?” Jackal pointed his knife at the hooded man. “That's Gareth Harriot. He's our leader. I'd tell you to remember that name, but you're going to die in a few minutes, so you'd really just be wasting your time.”
“How long have you been the Mayor of Durby? Twenty years? Twenty-five years?” Callum leaned toward the man's ear and whispered, “You made some bad, bad decisions back then, and now they're coming back to haunt you. Because of the emperor, families suffered. Harriot's entire family suffered. And now your family's suffering. Do you see how that works?”
When the Mayor of Durby tried to look back at his remaining son, Noah whacked his head and forced his eyes forward. “Do you know what's going to happen?” Noah asked. “Jackal is going to gouge your eyes. All those years ago, you looked the other way. You chose not to see the suffering of anyone else. So this seems like a fitting punishment.”
“No!” The mayor screamed as the tip of Jackal's blade drifted toward his eyes. “No... please!”
“One...” Jackal shoved the knife into his eye, just enough to blind him, but not to kill him. “And... two!” He smiled as his blade sank into the man's second eye.
Blood cascaded from the mayor's freshly-gouged eyes. Jackal wiped some of the blood and smeared it on his own face.
“And now...” Callum gently stroked the man's shoulder. “Now you're going to apologize to Mr. Harriot. Can you do that?”
“If you do, we'll spare your son,” Noah added. “Just a little apology is all we need. And make it sound genuine!”
“I-I-I'm sorry...” The mayor's voice quivered as he spoke. “I'm sorry. I'm sorry!”
“Say... I'm sorry, Mr. Harriot,” Callum quietly requested. “Grovel. Come on. You can do better.”
The man clasped his trembling hands together in a prayer-like position. “I'm sorry, Mr. Harriot. I'm so... so sorry! Please don't hurt my son!”
Gareth Harriot stepped forward and lowered his hood, since there was no one left to see his wizened face. His white hair was pulled back in a tiny ponytail, and his lips were tugged by a crooked grin. “I'll spare your son,” Gareth promised him, “because I'm more merciful than the emperor was to my sons.” Gareth raised his gun and pressed it to the man's temple. “If I was really cruel, I'd let you live. I'd make you live with the knowledge that you failed them, because failing your family is far worse than death, I assure you. But I'm not that cruel.”
Gareth pulled the trigger, ending the father's life. To his three subordinates, he said, “Let the little boy live, but don't untie him. If he's meant to be saved, someone will come along and save him. Bring out the next family, but before you do... burn the houses. Nothing and no one in Durby should survive this night.”
Thirty
Kieran had barely drifted to sleep before his eyes popped open again. The acrid smell of smoke filled his nostrils, as well as the strangely pleasant scent of scorched wood. His head was still dizzy with spirits when he rose from bed to rouse the prince.
“Nico.” With the butt of his shotgun, Kieran jabbed him awake. “Wake up. I think there's something wrong.”
“Waaaaah!” Nico sat up in bed with a gasp. “What's going on? Are you going to shoot me?”
Kieran lowered his shotgun and dragged the prince from bed. “No. But you need to listen to me. There's something very wrong.” He pulled Nico to the window and cautiously peered outside. “Yeah... the town's on fire.”
“The town's on fire?” When Nico shrieked the words, he sounded considerably less calm than Kieran did. “Why's the town on fire and how can you sound so calm about it?”
“Because someone needs to stay calm in situations like this. Now... get your coat and move your legs.” Kieran was already heading out the door, and he was halfway down the stairs before Nico followed him out.
“Wait!” Nico shoved his arms through the sleeves of his coat as he stumbled down the stairs after Kieran. “Wait, don't leave me behind!”
“I'm not leaving you behind, you idiot, I'm trying to encourage you to move faster.” Kieran paused in front of the ladies' room and rapped with a knuckle. When Mae answered, her eyes were swollen from lack of sleep.
“Kieran?” Her small nose wrinkled at the sight of him. “What are you doing? It's three in the morning!”
“The town's on fire,” Kieran calmly stated. “Where's Ella?”
As soon as he asked the question, they heard a distant scream. Mae didn't smell the smoke, but the scream was convincing enough. “Ella! Wake up!” Mae ran to Ella's bed and started to drag her out of it. “We need to go, or something bad is going to happen!”
“I'm pretty sure something bad is happening. As in, it's already underway,” Kieran corrected her with a snort. “Which is why you need to get up and move, Ella. Now.”
Ella didn't ask questions, not when Kieran and Mae both sounded extremely serious. When everyone was reunited, they followed Kieran downstairs to the lobby, where the old innkeeper's dead body was sprawled across the floor. His murderer was nowhere to be seen, but Kieran tightened his grip on his pistol, just to be safe.
“Oh god! Oh god!” Ella murmured frantically as she studied the innkeeper's corpse. “Who would kill an old man?”
“Plenty of people, unfortunately,” Kieran said. He crept to the inn's front entrance and cautiously peered out. When the door was open, it was much easier to hear the nearby pandemonium. Victorious yelps and terror-stricken screams flooded their ears.
“What do you see?” Ella hissed the question.
“People running. Men in black, chasing them. Fires. Lots of fires, actually,” Kieran answered placidly, as if it was part of his everyday life.
“How many men in black?” Ella tried to peek under Kieran's arm, but he was too large to see around, so she tried to shove him out of the way. “Oh god... there are a lot of them!”
“I didn't want to alarm you, love.”
Kieran and Ella watched in horror as one of the men in black leapt on a fleeing woman and split her head with an ax.
“This is terrible!” Looking down at the shotgun in Kieran's arm, Ella shrilled, “You have to help them!”
“By myself?” Kieran chuckled at the thought. “I think not.”
“But we've seen you fight! You're really good at what you do!” Ella tried to convince him. “You can't just stand around and do nothing, can you?”
“We won't be standing. We'll be running,” Kieran corrected her. “Running away. We need to get to the motocarriage and--”
“But we can't just leave these poor people!” Ella squeaked. She pointed at one of the burning houses, where a mother escaped with her children. As flames devoured their home, the family was mercilessly bludgeoned by hatchets. “Kieran, please!”
Kieran firmly shook his head. “No. Do you want to die? We have to run away this time, Ella. I'm not going to get myself killed doing charity work.” He turned to Nico and Mae. He hoped they were more sensible than overeager Ella. “Follow me to the motocarriage, and stay as low t
o the ground as possible. We don't want anyone to spot us, but if they do, I'll shoot them.” He shouldered his shotgun and raised his pistol. “Let's go.”
The four of them crept outside, as quickly and soundlessly as possible. The motocarriage wasn't far, and thankfully, it hadn't been damaged yet. Kieran practically shoved Nico and Ella into the carriage's interior, then he climbed into the front seat with Mae, as usual.
Unfortunately, the engine started loudly, which attracted the attention of Gareth's men. “Don't let anyone get away!” someone screamed as Kieran's motocarriage roared away from the inn.
“Shit!” Kieran's heart was brutally beating its way out of his chest. He wasn't often afraid or flustered, but the night was getting worse. “I think they're sending someone after us.”
“What?” Mae shrieked. “Are you serious?”
“I wouldn't lie about this. See for yourself.” When Kieran thrust a thumb over his shoulder, Mae cautiously turned around. “It looks like they've got three motocarriages chasing us. For whatever reason, they really don't want us to get away.”
“Oh shit!” When a shot was fired in their direction, Mae ducked and screamed again, “Oh shit, Kieran! What are we supposed to do now?”
“You drive.” Kieran grabbed Mae's hand and forced her fingers around the wheel. “I'm going to see what I can do about getting these bastards off of us.”
“What? But Kieran... I don't know how to drive this thing! Not that well anyway! I'll crash! Kieran!”
“Push the pedal hard and keep the wheel steady. It's not that difficult.” Kieran shoved his pistol into Mae's free hand. “If you have a chance, fire some shots. I trust you not to put a bullet in my back, love.”
“Kieraaaaan!” Mae whined as he climbed on top of the motocarriage. Her hands were already sweating as she scooted firmly into the driver's seat. “Kieran, I swear to god, if I end up killing us, it's not going to be my fault!”
Kieran flattened himself on top of the motocarriage, hoping it would make him a harder target to hit. While laying on his stomach, he aimed the double barrel shotgun at one of the incoming carriages. His first shot hit the driver's leg, and his second shot hit their wheel, which was exactly where Kieran was aiming. The enemy carriage wobbled unsteadily before crashing onto its side.
The Lady Captain (Belles & Bullets Book 4) Page 20
