The Legend of the Red Specter (The Adventures of the Red Specter Book 1)

by M. A. Wisniewski

  “You ain’t paid for shit,” said Shiori. “Seriously, do you idiots think you can stiff Boss Fang and get away with it?”

  “We did not stiff you guys!” said MacInroy. “We delivered it to your boys right where we were supposed to—“

  “—Like hell you did,” said Yang. “More like you jumped ‘em, kept the money, dumped the bodies somewhere, and come to us with—“

  “So, they disappeared?” countered MacInroy. “Just vanished into the night, huh? With six crates of gold bars. Sounds like your own people decided to cut and run to me. That’s your own discipline problem, and no way are the Sleywie Anden gonna foot the bill for—“

  “Enough!” snapped Chief Gallach. MacInroy shut up and stood to attention.

  Joy’s mind raced as she tried to catch up with what was happening. She needed to figure it out quick if she was going to have a chance of getting her and Hsiu Mei out of this. The City Guard was buying girls and weapons from the Triad, but the deal had gone sour because the payment had gone missing, and both sides blamed the other. Chen had said something about that: “Things going wrong, people disappearing.” And where was Chen, anyway? Why hadn’t he shown up yet?

  “Yeah, enough of your yapping,” said Shiori. “I’m fed up with it. Those girls are ours. You want them, you can pay for them. Otherwise, scram. And you’re lucky we’re leaving it at that. Boss Fang is way more patient than I. I’d have carved you all up and put your heads on pikes the first time you crossed us.”

  The Guardsmen tensed, but Chief Gallach kept his cool. Guardsmen had to remain calm when dealing with agitated, potentially violent people. Chief Gallach might’ve been a decent cop once—well, good at his job, anyway.

  “Well, that only shows why Mr. Fang is the boss,” he said. “You should learn from him. You should realize that he didn’t earn a nickname like ‘Benny the Shark’ for being squeamish. He didn’t try that because he knew there would be consequences. We’re the Dodona City Guard. Kill any one of us and uproar will be like nothing you’ve ever seen.”

  Shiori narrowed her eyes, but didn’t say anything. The Chief pressed on.

  “This deal, the original deal, is a good deal,” he said. “We both stand to profit, and we both want it to go through. We both want the same thing.”

  Joy watched the Chief defuse the situation, and realized that the last thing she wanted was for the two sides to come to terms. Neither side would let her walk away with Hsiu Mei. Their only chance was if the two sides came to blows, letting them slip away in the chaos.

  “The money is out there somewhere,” said the Chief. “If it’s really true that your men disappeared with the gold, then the City Guard has methods of tracking them down that the Triad doesn’t. If we pool our—”

  “Don’t believe him,” said Joy. “It’s just more lies. He’s trying to trick you like he tricked me.”

  “No one’s talking to you, girl,” said the Chief. “Now, like I was saying—”

  “No! They’re… they’re fanatics!” Joy remembered how touchy the Guardsmen had been about their religion. Maybe honing in on that could piss them off. “They’re all part of some weird cult. Sleywie whatever. And they won’t even say what god they worship—maybe it’s really Skakul. They could be a bunch of evil Skakul cultists.”

  Of course, that was a ridiculous accusation. Despite occasional bouts of hysteria in publications like the Gazette, Joy doubted that Skakul cultists really existed outside of pulp fiction and comics like the Red Specter. It was just the most insulting thing she could think of to say about them.

  None of the looks the Guardsmen gave her were friendly, and Brannock was trying to murder her with his gaze, but they didn’t explode like she’d hoped.

  But Shiori chuckled and said, “Nah, nothing that interesting. Their god’s some weird little small fry from up north named Nibiru.”

  That got a reaction. All of the Guardsmen flinched, save for Brannock, who started screaming, “Blasphemy! Blasphemy! You dare invoke the King of the Deep by name, you infidel?” He said more, but it was in some weird language Joy didn’t know. Was it Vannish? Was that the actual name of their language?

  Chief Gallach yelled something in the other language that shut him up, and Joy seized the opportunity to fan the flames some more.

  “Nibiru? What’s a Nibiru?” she said. “I’ve never heard of it.”

  “Of course you haven’t heard of Nibiru,” said Shiori. “Like I said, Nibiru is some insignificant, minor sea god from the Vannin islands. He’s not even the main sea god, that’s somebody else. So even Vannish sailors don’t bother with Nibiru, that’s how unimportant Nibiru is—”

  “Excuse me,” said Chief Gallach, crisp and controlled. But it was overly controlled, requiring considerable effort. It was working. “In our culture, it is considered very inappropriate, very disrespectful, very unlucky, to refer to the Lord of the Depths by name. It’s—”

  “Really? Well, I ain’t part of your silly Sleywie cult, so I can say Nibiru as much as I like, I think. Nibiru, Nibiru, Nibiru,” she said, enjoying the twitchy reaction of the Guard.

  Joy noticed the Chief’s neck muscles turning into hard cords from the effort of keeping a straight face. “Childish taunts are beneath you,” he managed. “Our culture—”

  “Yah, yah, culture whatever,” said Shiori, who turned to Joy and said. “Don’t let ‘em fool you. You know why there are so many Sleywie bastards all the way down in Dodona? Because everybody else in Vannin hates their fucking guts. Can’t stand ‘em.”

  The Chief glared. “It’s true that Kallistrate’s principle of tolerance—”

  “Yah, tolerance,” Shiori snorted. “Don’t buy it. They’ll go on about tolerance as long as it suits them, but the instant they get a whiff of power, they’ll use it to force Nibiru on everyone. Make everybody bow to Nibiru, every waking moment, and suck all the joy out of life. It’s true—I heard it from a Vannish sailor just the other night. A Sleywie town has no smoking, drinking, whoring, dancing, music—some of them even ban laughing. He couldn’t believe we let any of ‘those Sleywie cunts’ sign up to the City Guard, much less run it. Thought we were crazy. Said the only solution to a Sleywie infestation is to burn it out, like roaches—”

  “That’s enough! That’s more than enough,” said the Chief. The entire City Guard had their hackles up and Chief Gallach laid his baton across Brannock’s chest, in the manner of a dog trainer preventing a charge. But even the Chief wasn’t looking so calm right now. She had to keep pushing.

  “Wow, that’s crazy,” said Joy. “Who ever heard of banning laughing? Nibiru is the weirdest god I ever heard of.”

  “Looks weird, too,” said Shiori. “Bizarre fish-octopus-crab-looking motherfucker with a huge swinging dong.”

  “That thing?” Joy said, remembering the figure on Madame Zenovia’s trinket, and on all of the crates. “I think I’ve seen it. On the… um…”

  Joy cut herself off before she could remind everyone that she’d seen all the illegal merchandise, but Shiori didn’t pay any mind to that.

  “Course you have,” said Shiori. “These whackos put images of their ‘secret god’ on every damn thing they own. And I mean everything, including her.”

  Shiori pointed at Hsiu Mei, and Joy noticed something about her shackles, something she’d missed before. The chain link right below the collar wasn’t a chain link at all, but a solid piece of metal about the size of an egg, and the image of Nibiru embossed on the outside.

  Joy leaned in to get a closer look at it, and Hsiu Mei whispered, “Big Sister, what’s going on?”

  Joy straightened up and murmured in her ear, as she did. “I’m goading them into fighting each other. We’ll have a chance to run when they do.”

  “Yeah, those aren’t ours, those chains,” Shiori continued, turning back to Joy and Hsiu Mei. “Some local member of their cult met the seller in Gancheol with them and insisted that all the girls get cuffed before they went aboard. Said it was ceremo
nial. Wouldn’t even give us the keys.”

  “Ceremonial shackles?” Joy said, taking another look at Hsiu Mei’s chains, noting that they didn’t actually restrict her movement all that much. “Do they have some bondage fetish? Now that’s creepy. Don’t you think that’s creepy?”

  “Yah, sure. Creepy, perverted, deranged—”

  “Enough! Woman, you test my patience,” said Chief Gallach. “You seem to mistake my restraint for a license to toss out endless insults. That’s a mistake you’ll come to regret.”

  Shiori just grinned at him. “Oh, I’ll regret it? How’s that gonna work? You gonna do something about it?”

  “Yes, I will,” said the Chief. The Guardsmen, picking up on some unspoken cue, raised their batons and shields, and began to fan out, looking to surround the Caliburn knight, who just grinned, not bothering to go into any sort of defensive stance.

  “We will be taking the girl, the one we paid for,” he said. “You will keep the reporter, to question as you like. We each get something. Very fair, yes?”

  Shiori snickered, her eyes glittering. “Ah, Chief—you’re so sweet, it’s almost cute. Like watching mice dictate terms to a tiger.”

  "So arrogant," said the Chief. “Shows what happens when you let a woman carry a blade.” The guards had her and Yang surrounded on all sides now, though they kept their distance. Shiori still hadn't bothered to go into any kind of fighting stance, and she frowned as Yang went back-to-back with her.

  "Hey, Yang," she said. "No crowding. Give me space, here."

  Yang grimaced, but he followed orders. He kept his guard up and shuffled out through the widest gap in the circle of guards, who let him pass after a nod from the Chief. Yang stood outside the circle, weapon lowered, demoted to a spectator. Shiori faced the guards alone.

  "You've made a huge mistake, woman,” said Chief Gallach. “Killing any of us would cause an uproar, but there’s nobody who will mourn your death, war criminal. That’s the fate of a cowardly poisoner. The survivors of the Brentonsville eviction will cheer us. They’ll give us medals. We’ll be heroes.”

  “…Said the mouse to the tiger, before being eaten,” said Shiori.

  “You know, I have a daughter,” said the Chief. “In fact, by the ineffable will of the Deep King, I have no child but that daughter.”

  “So it’s Nibiru’s fault you’re firing blanks?” Shiori said. “Weird reason to keep wor—”

  “And you know what else,” he said, talking over her provocation even as he glared murder at her. “My daughter is a widow, widowed before she could bear me a grandson. Because of you. Because of what you did, I had a useless burden move back in with me. Because of you, I’ll be stuck with her, for the rest of my days. But the machinations of the Fathomless One are mysterious and profound, and today He has seen fit to grant me the gift of revenge. I will give my family satisfaction. I will bring my daughter your head!”

  Joy tensed and grabbed onto Hsiu Mei. “Get ready,” she whispered.

  “Bring it,” said Shiori.

  Chief Gallach flicked his baton, and all the guardsmen rushed her at once.

  "Now!" said Joy, and yanked Hsiu Mei's arm. Both of them bolted toward the street full-tilt. But Joy had barely taken three steps when a foot-long sliver of black steel whistled by to lodge itself in the wall of cargo crates in front of her, bare inches from her face. It stuck fast, vibrating from the shock, and Joy nearly ran into it face-first. She shrieked, stopped short, and Hsiu-Mei crashed into her from behind. The two of them had to cling together to keep each other from falling.

  "And where do think you're going?" said Shiori. "You're not going anywhere. You're going to stay where you are and behave, or the next one goes in your skull."

  Joy stared at the razor-sharp piece of steel half-buried in the wood. It was a slim and simple design, like a needle with an iron ring for an “eye.” No guard at the hilt, with red cord wrapped around the grip. You couldn't help notice details like these about something that was a few inches away from your eyes. But Joy’s favorite feature of the throwing-knife was how it was not imbedded in her temple. She absolutely did not want that to change.

  Her whole body trembled and her breath was coming short and fast. She had to tamp that down. She might scare Hsiu Mei. And just what had happened? Shiori was supposed to be distracted. Joy followed the trajectory of the throwing knife back to Shiori's outstretched hand, and gasped at what she saw.

  The guards were in complete disarray. MacInroy crouched protectively over Brannock. MacInroy's helmet was missing, and one side of his face was covered in the blood oozing from from a huge gash in his scalp. Brannock was whimpering and clutching at his arm, also leaking red all over the place. What happened to it? It looked odd. Oh—that was because it was missing below the elbow. No, check that--it wasn't missing. It was right over there, lying on the ground a few feet away, still clutching its official City Guard baton. Joy fought down a wave of nausea because she did not have time for that right now, dammit.

  The other guard, whatshisname, groaned and tried to push himself to his hands and knees, but Yang swept up behind him, put the point of his long-knife to the back of his neck, pushed him to his belly, and collected his buckler and baton. And then there was Chief Gallach, lying flat on his back at Shiori's feet, gloved hands around the curved blade of Shiori's polearm, trying to push it away from his throat, and failing at that task. Joy felt like the victim of some kind of an illusion, like one of the Great Phantasmo's sleight-of-hand card tricks. She'd taken her eyes off them for a mere second. How could the fight be over already? That just wasn't possible. It wasn't!

  There was a rustle of activity, and the men Shiori had sent off for reinforcements returned, each with a dozen Triad members trailing behind them. Everyone else had cleared the area, apparently sensing trouble. The railyard section of the docks was free of the usual worker activity, although--oddly enough--the crane golem was still going, as it lifted a massive cargo container aloft. Apparently no one had bothered to climb the ladder and tell the operator to clear out.

  "'Bout time you idiots showed up," Yang barked at the reinforcements. "Not that we needed you, with Ah Nei Wei hogging all the fun to herself." He hauled his captive to his feet and shoved him over to join MacInroy and Brannock.

  "Chief, Brannock's really hurt, said MacInroy, trying to wipe the blood from his face. "He's not... I can't get him to answer questions."

  "Pack the stump, put pressure on—urk!" The Chief's voice sounded strange with Shiori's blade pressed up against his throat. "Okay, you can stop—guhhh... enough! You've won already."

  "Oh? Have I?" Shiori's eyes were wide enough that Joy could see the whites above the pupils. She had a manic expression as she gazed down at her captive. "Seems like my enemies are still breathing. Does that count as victory, I wonder?"

  "Ahhh… fine, You… won. I… I was wrong. You keep the girls, we get nothing. No… reason to—uck!"

  "No reason? What do you know about it, pig-mouse?" Shiori snarled, baring her teeth at him. "You want me to forgive you? Well, I don’t feel like it. That's all the reason a tiger needs."

  "Insane... you—I'm Chief of the City Guard. Kiill me and… consequences would be—"

  "Consequences!" Shiori howled. "You don't get it, do you? Bitch, I'm Shiori Rosewing! The Hemlock Witch. The Terror of Yaolun. Shiori the City-Killer. You think I give a fuck about your petty politics? You think I give a fuck at all?"

  The Chief went pale, as did the rest of the Guard. Even Yang did a double-take. "Uh, Ah Nei Wei," he said. "Maybe we oughta ease up a bit. Killing a guardsman really does cause a lot of problems, so—"

  "Yang!" Shiori fixed him with a vicious glare, making him shrink back a step. "You questioning my orders?"

  "Oh, no, Ah Nei Wei. I wouldn't do that."

  "Great. So shut your mouth while I handle this." A clatter of boots hitting gravel and concrete drew her attention. "Oh my, look who's here."

  The Guardsmen's shield-bashing
signal from the very beginning of the confrontation had finally worked, as two squads of four came running up from the street, with a third squad rounding the corner coming from the other direction.

  "Chief!" said the leader. "What's going on—"

  "Everyone! Hold… positions and stay calm! That's… order--urk."

  "Actually, I'm giving the orders here," said Shiori. "And I was just deciding whether killing your commander would be fun enough to be worth the hassle. What do you think?"

  There was a loud click, audible even over the chugging of the crane golem's steam-engine, as two of the city guard produced heavy black revolvers and leveled them at Shiori. Joy's jaw dropped open. Since when did the City Guard carry guns? Then she remembered the huge cache of weapons and realized she shouldn't be surprised.

  "I think it won't be fun for you at all," said the guard leader. "Now, drop your spear and put your hands on your head."

  "You know, when you say that, it just makes me want to swing my spear even more. This just gets more fun by the minute. I'm so torn." Shiori shifted just a bit, and Joy noticed she had a sheath on her wrist with more of her deadly throwing knives. She showed no signs that she was willing to drop her polearm. Joy stared at Shiori's feral expression and the full realization hit her—of the type of person it took to create the legend of Shiori Rosewing, and she was not what you'd call sane. Except Shiori just might have the skills to make reality bend to fit her insanity. Joy wondered if Shiori could actually dodge bullets or if she only thought she could. She wasn't sure which possibility scared her more.

  The two factions stared each other down from opposite ends of the rail yard, each poised on a hair trigger, as the arms of the crane golem swung overhead, oblivious to everything else going on.

  “Everybody, wait,” gasped Captain Gallach. “Just… Knight Rosewing, why are you doing this? What do you want? Right now, just tell us that, and maybe we can… we can work—“

  “Oh, you think so?” said Shiori. “Work things out? But what if what I want is your head on a platter?”

  A ripple of tension ran through the City Guard. “Chief, we’ve got a clear shot—”