by Marie Hall
He threw a large nugget into the center of the table. Slayde had a flush. Not the best hand. But there wasn’t much that would beat it either, and he knew skinny didn’t have the goods. Why, because Hunter was doing a piss poor job of hiding his hand. Boy scout could have won the game four turns ago.
The other guy was hunched in his seat; he looked like a lawyer type with his slicked back hair and bowler hat. His suit was clean, spotless clean, and his hands didn’t look as if they’d seen a day’s hard labor in his life. Long sooty lashes framed bright green eyes. It made him look more pretty than masculine.
Whoever this guy was, he wasn’t from around here. You couldn’t avoid the dust. That he was so clean, was very telling.
Like Hunter, he wasn’t really in the game and probably didn’t have much of a hand. His eyes shifted from his cards to the ladies, paying particular attention to Sable who was surrounded by a varied group of sycophantic goons. She was laughing and twirling in that same red dress he’d slipped her out of yesterday.
Slayde gnashed his teeth hearing her trill of laughter and then she touched the bicep of the boy she’d been with last night, oohing over the non-existent muscle. His lip curled. She couldn’t honestly like them. The boy made a grab for her and he swore that if that bastard did that again he’d kill someone. His fingers clenched.
“Who’s the whore in red?” Monkey suit asked.
What Slayde couldn’t understand, was how city slicker seemed to take a genuine interest in her when it was obvious to anyone with half an eye the kid was gay.
City boy turned and looked square at Hunter who sat up, clearing his throat. He pretended to look over his shoulder as if he didn’t know who the bastard meant.
Slayde gave the tinniest shake of his head, a silent gesture that Hunter would keep her name private.
“Heard the ladies call her Bunny,” he said, never looking at Slayde.
Slayde’s nostrils flared.
“Bunny,” Monkey boy snorted, “the name’s these whore’s come up with.” He shook his head, chuckling, and Slayde’s breathing grew faster.
Slayde hated to lose at anything. Cards, girls, fights—even so—he threw his hand down, forfeiting his win.
The shaker whooped and threw his hand down a second later. Slayde growled when he scooped up five large nuggets. Winning what should have rightfully been his with a pathetic three of a kind.
Slayde pushed away from the table.
Hunter shook his head. “Stay.” The word was a command and not a request.
Slayde snarled. “I’m not doing anything here but losing money. I’m finding a girl and hitting the hay. This is bullsh—”
“You leave, we’ll never found out what we’re looking for,” Hunter said with slow deliberation.
The shaker and the lawyer glanced between them and Slayde wanted to throttle the bastard.
“What are ya looking for?” Shaker asked, rubbing the nuggets over his front tooth with a pleased smile.
The muscle in his jaw ticked. He would have walked off, snatched Sable and walked upstairs if it hadn’t been for the fact that she glanced at him at that exact moment. She frowned and shook her head.
It was enough to make him sit back down.
“My partner and I here,” Hunter nodded toward Slayde, “heard about a thief called the Bandit.”
Slayde slouched, elbow on the table and chin on his fist as his foot bounced.
“We’re aiming to do some panning tomorrow,” Hunter gave a goofy chuckle and shrugged, fiddling with the tie at his neck, “but you know...”
Against his will, he had to hand it to the boy scout. Knowing Hunter the way he did, Slayde knew he was no buffoon. But he played the roll to perfection.
The shaker laughed. “Don’t want to be nowhere the thief is.” He winked.
“Exactly.” Hunter nodded.
Sable glanced at him again and worry gleamed in her smoky eyes. He licked his teeth and shifted. Man she made him feel like a loser, he knew, they all blamed him for failing the last mission and expected him to screw this one up too.
He sat up. He’d show them he was capable of more than being a hothead. He jerked his head towards Monkey boy. “You heard anything about him?”
“First night here, I’m simply passing through. Docked at the harbor for supplies before we head home tomorrow. Was hoping to acquire a whore tonight.”
What was his deal with finding a bedmate? Desperation to assert his manhood, maybe?
“Heard the fat one there,” Slayde pointed to the shortest lady dressed in purple, “is a good lay.” He grinned.
City boy looked and shuddered. “You don’t say?”
Hunter rolled his eyes.
“Well I heard that them killings is happening farther in the hills,” the shaker interjected and raised his cup to his lips, taking a long drag of the dark brew within. He burped and then said, “Some folks were mentioning a vein been discovered in the fork by the river.”
Monkey boy narrowed his eyes, greed clearly burned in their bright green depths.
Hunter pursed his lips and glanced at Slayde.
Vein, as in gold vein cutting through the mountain? A potential cash cow and something a Lord might be protecting?
Shaker scratched his neck with dirt-impacted nails. “That’s where them killing’s taking place. Stream panning should be fine.” He shrugged, completely oblivious to the sudden shift in mood at the table. He gestured to the cards. “Another hand?”
“I’m out,” Hunter shook his head and so did Slayde. Monkey boy nodded agreement.
The man frowned and his shoulders slumped. It was obvious he wasn’t used to winning and had hoped to win another hand before calling it quits. With a growl he threw back his drink, shoved his hat on his head and got up, walking to another table.
Monkey boy stood. “I’m going to go snag me a whore.” He tipped his hat at them after putting it back on and headed in Sable’s direction.
Slayde jerked to his feet.
“Stay away from her tonight, Slayde,” Hunter warned, his blue eyes flat as cold steel.
“I’ll go where I please, Hunter. You heard shaky, that gold is probably where the Lord is at. Why keep the girls here another night?”
He nodded. “Likely so. But the suit,” he pointed his thumb over his shoulder at Monkey boy who was now smiling at Sable, “knows more than he’s letting on. If we give her a chance, I’d bet my soul she’ll learn more for us. You screwed us over last time, we can’t afford to make the same mistake again.”
Slayde laughed. “I’ll do whatever I damn well please,” he said, forgetting his resolution to play nice. The boy scout had a way of crawling under his skin and pressing every single one of his ‘screw you’ buttons.
Instead of hurling another insult at him, Hunter sat back with a pleased smirk. “Too late.”
He hadn’t even turned around, but Slayde knew she was gone. Somehow the bastard had known she’d left with the Darwinian throw back.
Hunter tapped his finger on the table. “Heard the fat one’s a good lay.” He nodded towards the purple dressed giggler as she walked past. “Still available.”
“Screw you.”
With a two fingered salute, Hunter stood and headed toward the bar, laughing softly to himself.
Chapter 8: The Bandit
He was young, but had a nice smile that put her instantly at ease. Sable had been doing her best to flirt and fawn over her sweaty admirers, while also keeping an eye on the tense atmosphere of Hunter’s and Slayde’s table. It’d been exhausting, and she’d still found out little, other than one boy was a virgin and tonight was his birthday. Apparently the group hoped she’d be his gift.
Yeah. Right.
She was getting ready to wiggle out of the crush when a man in a form fitting blue suit walked up to her. His eyes were the greenest she’d ever seen and the way they twinkled like cut gems when he grinned at her, had her forgetting everything.
“Ma’am.” He tippe
d his hat and for the first time tonight she wore a real smile in return.
She’d seen how most men approached the women, demanding and pushy. He was treating her like a lady, which she actually found endearing.
He wasn’t the most beautiful man she’d ever seen. He was soft, even kind of pretty, but there was a kindness in his face she found refreshing. He removed his hat, revealing a thick wave of brown hair.
“I’m looking for a bed fellow tonight and would be ever so grateful if you’d agree to accompany me.”
She giggled, she couldn’t help it. His eyes were round and sincere. He looked so out of place, he kept tugging at his too tight tie, but his friendly smile never wavered. He kind of reminded her of thumper the rabbit when he’d bumped into his lady rabbit in the meadow.
At no point had she ever wanted to engage in what was happening all around her, but his voice was so soft and lulling, that her fears were streamers gently falling to the ground.
He smiled a nice row of white teeth and there was something about him that she immediately liked. Maybe it was his smell. Sweet and spicy, like hot licorice, it beckoned to her and she surprised herself when she nodded her agreement.
He held out his hand and she placed hers in his. His thumb lightly grazed her knuckles. There was no heat like what she felt with Slayde. Everything was happening in a haze. In no time they’d made it up the flight of stairs and before she knew it, they were in her room.
Still, she felt at ease. Doubt tried to nag at her, tried to dig a hole through her subconscious into her conscious mind. A warning that this was so out of character for her, but it never came fully to fruition.
“I’m a painter,” he said, sitting down on Ari’s bed as he started to undo his black tie.
Sable leaned against the door. “What do you paint?”
In here his scent was even stronger. She inhaled, filling her lungs with the enticing aroma.
“Landscapes mostly.” The black ends of his tie dangled as he started to unbutton his jacket.
She watched his long, lean fingers work the buttons through the hole, then he shrugged the jacket off and began rolling up his white sleeves.
“But I’ve wanted to paint a portrait, and the striking contours of her your cheekbones beckoned me.”
She had a memory of herself at age five, driving through a tunnel with her car window down. The lights had rolled by in a blur, the wind had made her dizzy and lightheaded. That’s exactly what she felt now. She wondered if this was what it was like to be drunk. Was it possible to get drunk from fumes? Because it seemed like the more she inhaled his spicy cologne, the more weird she felt. Her knees wobbled.
“Is the floor moving?” she mumbled, gripping the doorjamb tight. The room was spinning, the walls were closing in. Like being in a fun house. How couldn’t he feel it?
She closed her eyes, trying to squelch the vertigo that was making her mouth go dry.
He shook his head. “No, of course not. Are you okay, Bunny?”
She bit her bottom lip, really feeling the rolling movement of the floor now. If she didn’t know better, she’d swear she was on a boat in the middle of a stormy ocean.
“I feel a little green around the gills.”
“Open your eyes,” he commanded.
She cracked open one eye.
“Good. Now,” he gestured, “come here. The room is not pitching.”
It was the weirdest thing, because the moment he said it, the waves stopped. Her stomach settled and she frowned. What had just happened to her? She hadn’t made it up. And yet, there were no lingering effects.
“Come,” he ordered again.
She felt compelled to please him. Which was strange. She wasn’t normally so docile. She knew this, but still she couldn’t seem to stop herself from following his command.
He pointed to the bed. “Lay.”
“Umm, I don’t know...”
He grinned. “Not to worry, Bunny. I mean you no harm.”
“So you don’t want to sleep with me?”
He shook his head. “I’ve certain proclivities, you see.”
His answer was a balm for ragged nerves. A high-pitched giggle rang in her ears. She frowned, glancing around and realized the sound had come from her. Again, something inside her head whispered to her that something was wrong here.
But he was so nice.
“So you’re gay?”
Long lashes covered his eyes; they were black spikes lying against the creamy smoothness of his skin. For the first time she noticed the light smattering of freckles lacing his nose.
“You’re nice to look at,” she drawled.
Jeez, where was her mute button? She wasn’t normally so uncensored.
“I’ll take that as a compliment.” He grinned and gestured to the bed again. “I could paint you laying down. I think that might be best for you.”
She swayed, he was right, the bed sounded like a lovely idea. She obliged with a delighted sigh and threw her arm over her face. A heavy weight of exhaustion enveloped her the moment her head touched the feather down pillow. A whiff of Slayde’s scent from the night before wafted under her nose warring with the spicy heat of licorice. She liked Slayde’s better.
“Lovely,” he said, “that pose is divine. Now, don’t move.”
“I don’t think I could even if I wanted to,” she slurred, she would have asked him where his paints and canvas were, if she wasn’t so tired. If she could only open her eyes, she might have asked him a lot of things, but they slammed shut.
She was in a foreign world. An ancient one. Full of trees that towered into the heavens with gnarled vines dragging fat fingers towards the ground. Blades of grass tickled her bare feet. She looked down. What happened to her shoes? And her dress, where had it gone? She was wearing a gauzy white toga that wrapped like sin around her body, giving her the illusion of curves and...were those breasts? She touched the large round mounds and squeaked.
She held out her arms. They were tanned and toned. Sable grabbed the thick braid lying over her shoulder, marveling at the deep rich brown, the color of liquid chocolate.
She frowned. Where was she? “Hello,” she called out.
No answer.
A monarch butterfly drew her eye. It danced around her head, its wings brushing her bare arms and then flitted over her cheeks as if in greeting.
The sun was warm. She titled her face up to accept its caress. Fluffy white clouds floated lazily through the bluest sky she’d ever seen.
It was a wonderland and she wanted to fly through it. She called her fire. But it didn’t come. She called it again. And again, it didn’t come.
“Welcome to my forest.” The voice was hauntingly beautiful, echoing with a roll of thunder.
Sable twirled on her heels and lost her ability to think as the loveliest being she’d ever seen stared back at her. She swung within a thick knot of vines, her legs were crossed and her feet were bare. Thousands of monarch butterflies draped her luscious body from her breasts to her toes, like a living gown.
She wore no adornments in her hair. If you could even call it that. More like red flames that danced in curls around her face.
Sable inhaled, stunned to silence by the otherworldly beauty. The land smelled heavily of wildflowers and honey. Black eyes full of ancient intelligence studied her and she didn’t need to ask, she knew who this was, had shared her body with this soul.
“You’re the phoenix.”
“I am.” Her hair swayed and danced around her face in a mesmerizing display. Her smile was beatific and Sable would swear that the sunlight grew suddenly ten times brighter.
“Why am I here?” she asked.
“Because you are in great danger, and you must wake up.”
But she didn’t want to wake up. She wanted to stay here. It was so beautiful. So peaceful and quiet. Perfect. “Is this heaven?”
She looked around. “It is my home.”
A shimmering curtain of translucence emanated from her body.
She wondered if that’s what she looked like when her fire danced. “I have so many questions.”
Black eyes filled with pinpricks of silver dust were laced with grief. “We haven’t much time. You must return. You must wake up.”
“I don’t want to go. I want to stay here with you.”
“But you must.” The words were cold, no longer comforting and she flinched. “Do not forget your purpose. Do not forget why we are here.” Her words whipped up a tempest that spilled a sea of green leaves from the branches. “He will not enslave me again.” Her last words were punctuated by a jagged tear of lightning that struck in a sulfur blast by her foot.
Sable hugged her arms to her chest.
“Wake. Up!” The face twisted into a mask of cruel intensity.
Sable screamed, slashing at the hands that gripped her neck.
“Move, and I’ll slit your neck.” A cold sharp object pressed against the pulse point in her neck.
The voice did not belong to a man, the hands were not man’s hands, but the smile was one she knew. A gap toothed grin with a Marilyn Monroe mole at the corner.
“Alice?” she squeaked, and then blinked when the face melted. Literally. It was like someone taking a flame to wax and watching it drip into a tallow puddle. It was macabre and then the puddle reformed into another face. It was the boy with the nice smile and wavy brown hair.
Horror squeezed a black grip on her heart. She couldn’t move. Couldn’t turn her gaze away from the absurd reality playing out before her.
That face melted, and she was staring into the grizzled features of a burned monstrosity with an eye patch. One Eyed Jack smiled two rows of brown and black teeth. “So I’ve been called before.”
He shoved the blade deeper into her neck. The need to swallow was overwhelming, but she didn’t dare.
“Who the hell are you?”
Hot spittle landed on her lips. Adrenaline buzzed so hard, kicking her into fight or flight mode. She called her fire. Beckoned her flames, and just like the dream, it didn’t come.
Terror was a bottomless cesspit in her soul. Sable clawed at his wrist and screamed at him. He didn’t even flinch at the sound.
