by Travis Bughi
“Um.” Emily cleared her throat. “We’re here to see Sir Mark O’Conner.”
Ogres were big. Not minotaur big, but certainly taller and heavier than any human. This one was no different, and he took a step forward to bear his height down upon Emily and Adelpha.
Emily barely resisted the urge to step back. The ogre’s fingernails, filed to a point, were close enough to touch, and she could smell its rotting breath. Yellow eyes shifted between the two of them with a hungry twinge, and Emily cleared her throat.
“What you want?” it finally said in a deep voice.
“I have a message for him,” Emily said, then clarified, “a personal one I must hand deliver.”
“Give it,” the ogre demanded, and took a purple hand off his weapon to open it towards her.
“I’m sorry,” Emily replied, “but I can’t do that. Really, I only need a moment of his time. It won’t be any trouble.”
Emily twisted her head away from the ogre to get a quick breath of fresh air. The rancid smell that seeped from its mouth was overbearing. In her quick glance away, Emily caught the eyes of a few passersby looking on in confusion, surprise, and worry. They were shocked, Emily realized, to see anyone daring to speak with the ogre.
“Give it,” the ogre said, growling, “or I throw you in a cell.”
The hand the ogre held out now closed into a fist, and Emily recoiled a bit. She knew all too well the power behind that fist. The last time an ogre had hit her, she’d been flung off her feet and knocked unconscious for hours. But there was no way she was going to give up Belen’s letter. That wasn’t going to happen.
“Look.” Emily held both her hands up to show she meant no harm. “There’s obviously a misunderstanding here. I’ll show you just as soon as I see Sir Mark and—”
Emily was cut short as the ogre’s balled fist slammed forward to strike her in the stomach. It was a blow meant to knock Emily to the ground gasping for air, and six months ago, it would have done just that.
But Emily was an amazon now, and the ogre’s muscled strike barely scraped her skin as she twisted her body to the side. Before the ogre retracted his fist, Adelpha drew her knife and slammed her shoulder into the brute’s ribs.
Adelpha was a big girl, and a blow like that would have sent anyone else reeling, but the ogre only grunted and took a single step back. Emily and Adelpha both backed up quickly, and the ogre roared. He grabbed up his weapon in both hands and lifted it for a mighty swing.
“STOP!” came a commanding voice from behind the ogre, cutting its bloodcurdling roar short.
The ogre snorted in frustration before curling its lips into a snarl, but it calmed down well enough and looked behind to the one who had shouted.
“Stop this at once!” the voice said again as the iron double door was pulled open.
Behind the door, a short man stepped out. He was obviously not a knight, but nonetheless produced an aura of self-worth. Emily recognized him as the man who had led the knights through the crowded streets and had once almost hit her and her brother for not getting out of the way in time.
“Doles!” Emily exclaimed. “Doles, do you remember me?”
“What is the meaning of this?” Doles demanded of the ogre, ignoring Emily.
Doles walked right up to the ogre without a drop of fear and stared straight up into the beast’s yellow eyes.
“Just following orders,” the ogre grumbled.
“I know the orders because I gave them to you!” Doles shouted. “And I specifically told you that you are NOT allowed to administer corporal punishment without a knight’s express permission!”
Doles barely came up to the ogre’s chest, and the ogre was obviously not taking its reprimanding well. It twisted the weapon in its hand and snorted again, but Doles did not retract from the overwhelming smell that was likely assaulting his nostrils.
“Umf,” the ogre conceded.
The ogre broke the gaze and look away, but Doles held the stare just a tad longer until the last bit of defiance had been stamped out. Then, he turned his harsh gaze on the amazons.
“Now, you two,” Doles snapped. “Follow me this instant!”
Emily smiled and followed the little man into the courtyard. Adelpha trailed behind Emily, giving the ogre a deathly glare as she passed by.
“Damnable ogres,” Doles said once the doors were closed and they were out of ear shot. “Temperamental creatures with no respect for authority.”
“Doles,” Emily tried again. “It’s me. Emily. Do you remember me?”
“Of course I remember you!” Doles whirled around, stopping Emily and causing Adelpha to walk into her. “You and your little brother both, and I should say your manners have not improved in the slightest!”
“What?” Emily balked. “My manners? It was the ogre who tried to hit me! And what is an ogre doing guarding the knights’ quarters anyway?”
“Apparently you’ve either been living under a rock,” Doles continued, pointing an accusing finger at Emily, “or you were raised by pirates! I’m shocked you haven’t been crushed by a minotaur yet.”
Emily’s gritted her teeth in anger. Doles was yelling at her for no apparent reason, and Emily took a breath to fight back with insults of her own. But then, Doles’ words slipped into her mind, and Emily made a connection. Crushed by a minotaur? she pondered. Oh! Manners, of course.
“Sorry.” Emily sighed, swallowing her fury. “Okay, let me try again. I’m sorry to have caused you trouble, Doles. And thank you for saving my friend and me.”
“Speak for yourself,” Adelpha muttered, then went quiet as Emily glared her way.
“That’s better,” Doles said. “Apology accepted, and you are welcome. Now, what business do you have here?”
Emily sighed, happy to be moving on but angry to be squashing her pride once again.
“I have a letter for Sir Mark O’Conner,” Emily said. “I must hand it to him directly. It’s from his wife.”
“His wife?” Doles looked surprised. “He’s married?”
* * *
“I would advise you, Emily Stout,” Mark said as he fiddled with the unopened letter, “not to mention my personal life to anyone—ever.”
Emily and Adelpha were in the old knight’s office, which was on the second floor of the knights’ quarters in the back of the complex, closest to the angels’ tower. He was dressed casually in a tunic and seated in a simple wooden chair, which huddled up to a table where a single candle burned steadily. There were windows in Mark’s office, but he had closed the wooden shutters upon Emily’s entrance, and now the only light came from the candle’s glow.
“I’m sorry,” Emily said. “I didn’t know you’d kept your marriage a secret.”
“It’s far too late for apologies,” Mark muttered, grabbing up a small dagger from his table. “I’ve come to expect the worst from you anyway.”
Emily clenched her teeth but held her tongue. She still needed information from the old knight—and possibly a meeting with the angels themselves if she could get it.
Mark took the dagger and slowly cut the letter’s seal. He then set the dagger down, quietly unfolded the letter, and held it in both hands towards the light. The candle flickered slightly as the paper was pushed towards it, casting a dancing yellow glow over the black words. Mark’s face remained placid and unresponsive as he read over Belen’s message, with only his eyes shifting as they scanned each line methodically.
What’s he thinking? Emily wondered. She tried to imagine a letter coming to her from Sir Gavin Shaw and the emotions that would sweep over her if she found out he’d become a werewolf. They’d only known each other briefly, sure, but her heart yearned for him, and she ached at just the thought of that situation.
Mark was going through the same thing right now, and Emily felt a pang of sympathy for him. Even though she thought Mark to be a detestable person, she did not believe him deserving of this pain.
Mark finished the letter and set it down on
the table. His eyes and expression had not changed, even as he looked up to Emily.
“Have you read this?” he asked.
“No, I have not,” Emily replied honestly.
Mark sighed and leaned back in his chair, putting his hands together and resting them on his belly.
“She wants me to come for her,” Mark explained, looking away, “and this I simply cannot do. Tell her I am sorry, but there is nothing I can do for her.”
He said all of this without pause or, from what Emily could tell, remorse. Emily’s jaw fell open, and she realized she’d forgotten to breathe.
“But, but she’s your wife,” Emily stammered.
Mark frowned slightly. “Yes, well, these things happen. And you’re just a mere child, so I don’t expect you to understand.”
Emily’s mouth fell open further, and then her lips pressed together tightly.
“I’m just a child?” Emily mocked, standing up from her chair. “You’d just abandon the woman you love because her situation isn’t convenient for you?”
“That’s enough,” Mark replied, eyes narrowing.
“You’re not worthy of being called a knight!”
“How dare you!” Mark stood up out of his chair and slammed his fists on the table.
The collision caused the candle to bounce, and the light danced as the flame flickered. When it settled, Mark met Emily’s eyes and leaned in. The new angle brought shadows across his wrinkled face, adding a sinister aura to his menacing gaze. Emily didn’t back away, though, and instead felt her hand instinctively reach for her knife.
“Please!” Adelpha shouted, grabbing Emily’s hand and standing up as well. “If we can have a written response from you, O’Conner, then we’ll be out of your hair . . . at least what’s left of it.”
Emily’s anger dispersed into shock, more from Adelpha’s calm response than anything else. Mark’s casual disregard for Belen should have provoked just as much anger from Adelpha, if not more. And, despite Adelpha’s comment on his balding head, Mark seemed to have calmed down enough to focus.
“You want a written response?” Mark clarified. “I will give you a written response.”
Mark took a seat, pulled out some blank parchment and began to scribe with his quill.
“Tell her,” Mark said, “that she is a werewolf now, and there is no cure for her condition. Therefore, I absolve her of all responsibility to me and wish her the best of luck. And you two are to leave this compound immediately, or I’ll have you arrested. Be thankful I have not done so already.”
Responsibility? Emily barely avoided scoffing. The letter he was writing sounded more like he was absolving himself of liability to damaged property. Belen didn’t deserve this. Not after what happened to her. No one deserved this.
Well, maybe Heliena.
Mark finished scribbling down the letter, signed it, and sealed it in wax with his personal emblem. He handed it to Emily, who snatched it up. She was tempted to hold it over the candle, but then she remembered her promise to Belen and decided that any response, even a horrible one, must be delivered.
“We are done here,” Mark decreed.
“One last thing,” Emily said. “I must speak with the angels.”
“You can’t.”
“And why not?”
Mark sighed and leaned back in his chair again. His fury was gone now, replaced with a touch of sorrow. He looked down at the desk, then back up at Emily.
“Because.” The knight paused. “The angels are gone.”
Chapter 4
Emily wasn’t sure when her heart started beating again. It had stopped when Mark said that and, sometime after, had begun to beat again, just fast enough to keep her alive.
Mark would answer no more questions. He’d had enough and demanded they leave. Emily and Adelpha were escorted out by Doles, who graciously explained what Emily had missed. What she had terribly and unfortunately missed.
First, Quartus had died.
He had dropped dead early one morning without explanation, bursting into light and leaving only his clothes behind. He’d simply ceased to be, and the other angels refused to explain why. His mysterious death was meant to be kept secret from the public, and it was for quite some time. Even when the colossi mysteriously exited the city to kneel, Quartus’ death remained a secret.
And then, some months later, strange things began occurring in the city. Vampires were found dead, laid out in the streets where their bodies disintegrated in the sun, leaving no evidence as to the cause of their demise. Then, during an investigation, the knights found a vampire’s body in the streets and were able to cover it just before the sun rose. On that body was a single, pitch-black cut—a mark like the one on Emily’s leg, which she now quickly turned away to avoid any questions from Doles. He noticed nothing, though, and continued to tell the dreadful story while watching the ground at his feet.
Experts, men of wide knowledge, were brought in to examine the vampire’s corpse. The angels themselves could not help, for the gaze of their eyes would disintegrate the body. Their vast experience was unnecessary though, for it was quickly confirmed that basilisk poison had been used. Someone was killing off the vampires.
At first, none were too concerned. The plight of such heartless creatures as vampires mattered little from the richest leprechaun pocketbook to the hungriest human belly—that was until the crime wars started. Vampires, the rulers of large crime syndicates, were dying left and right. This left huge gaps of power among rival mercenary gangs and thugs.
There was panic. Ogres, minotaurs, knights, even gnomes fought on the streets in broad daylight. Thieves risked the gargoyle protected banks and other buildings to steal wealth and gain power. Citizens were murdered and left to rot in the streets as a warning to others. After the guard was increased throughout the city, one too many people became involved for secrets to remain hidden, and rumors of Quartus’ death finally leaked out into the open. There was talk of a coup, of a shifting of power, and even of a coming apocalypse. The knights were run ragged as crime doubled, even tripled, throughout the city.
And then, two weeks ago, the angels disappeared. The large window in their tower lay shattered, and the angels were gone.
There was no preventing the spread of that knowledge. Overnight, the panic in the city became a flood, and the knights, the now de facto rulers, were forced to reach out to others for help.
“We now have to employ ogres because our forces are spread so thin,” Doles said to Emily and Adelpha as he escorted them back across the courtyard. “And what’s worse is how quickly it is draining our funds. Sure, minotaurs are more reliable, but they’re too expensive for us. We can’t even afford the ogres we’re already employing! Sir Mark has to borrow heavily just to keep this city together.”
“This is terrible,” Emily replied, wiping her eyes. “The angels just left? How could they do that?”
“It’s a question we’ve all had to face,” Doles replied in a consoling voice. “I suspect it had something to do with Quartus’ death, and there are many others who agree with me. Though, that doesn’t mean anything right now.”
Emily bit her lip and looked away from Doles. She didn’t want him to see the guilt that hung heavy in her soul just then, because Emily knew exactly why Quartus was dead.
He’d given his life to her.
All this time, Emily thought that Quartus had only restarted her life, as if it were a mere snap of his fingers. Before he had granted her life, Quartus had sighed as if the decision was a difficult one. Now, Emily knew why; the angel had ordered his own execution. Emily looked at her hands, and a surreal moment washed over her. It felt like they weren’t hers anymore. She was living a borrowed life, on borrowed time, and it was a debt she could never pay back.
Why me, Quartus? Emily blinked a tear loose from her eye. Why me?
“I’m sorry I have to be the bearer of such bad news, you two,” Doles said as they neared the exit. “I hope your next visit to Lucifan
proves more enjoyable. Please be careful out there. The thugs grow bolder every day. Some of our knights have been ambushed in broad daylight. Now, is there anything else I can help you with?”
“There is one thing,” Emily said. “Do you know where I can find Sir Gavin Shaw? He’s a close . . . friend of mine, and I’d like to see him again, especially now.”
“Yes, I remember your exchange with him,” Doles replied, obviously displeased but unable to deny Emily in this time of need. “He’s on patrol right now, but he and his friends will be celebrating Duncan Macalister’s recent promotion tonight.”
“Where?” Emily’s heart fluttered.
“I think they’re going to Banshee’s Wail Tavern,” Doles said. “Probably because they don’t want to deal with the pirates at The Kraken’s Eye.”
“Oh! What luck!” Emily smiled and gave Doles a quick hug. “Thank you, thank you, thank you!”
Doles went rigid at Emily’s touch, and as she pulled away, she saw his face ablaze. Emily smiled at him again and left with a wave of her hand. Doles blinked several times, still trying to rid himself of the surprise he’d had at Emily’s abandonment of formal manners. Though this time, it seemed, her rudeness was not entirely unpleasant.
On their way out, Adelpha glared at the ogre, who snarled back.
“So a knight, huh?” Adelpha teased Emily when they were back on the crowded streets. “Oh, Chara would be furious!”
Emily’s grandmother had hated knights, which was odd because Emily’s grandfather was a knight. Whom he was exactly, Emily did not know. Chara had never revealed that information and had insisted that he was likely long dead from old age. Emily suspected that things hadn’t ended well between them.
“Gavin is different,” Emily replied solidly. “And speaking of furious, why weren’t you angry at Mark? How in the world could you stay calm when he acted that way over Belen?”
