Decimus Fate and the Butcher of Guile: (Decimus Fate - Book 2)

by Peter A Flannery

  ‘A necromancer?’ asked the Tutor.

  ‘A magic-user who makes use of the dead,’ said Fate.

  ‘I know what it is,’ replied the Tutor. ‘But what makes you think there’s one at work in the city?’

  ‘Bodies missing from morgues and mortuaries,’ said Vivienne. ‘Whisked away in the dead of night.’ He cocked his head in Fate’s direction. ‘Lord Fate believes there’s some kind of pattern.’

  ‘And you?’ asked the Tutor, and Vivienne gave a shrug.

  ‘There are other reasons for a body to go missing… relatives who can’t pay the undertaker’s fees… people selling body parts for use in dark magic spells.’

  The mortician’s tone suggested that he and Fate had discussed this matter before, but the sorcerer refused to be drawn.

  ‘What have we got here?’ asked Fate as he stepped forward to look at the body that Vivienne had been examining. The body’s limbs had been cut off, but Vivienne had laid them beside the body.

  Even though he was curious, the Tutor held back. It did not feel right to be examining the body of a dead person this way, but as Fate and Vivienne moved around the body, he noticed a distinctive tattoo on the man’s upper arm. It was the portcullis tattoo of the castle guard.

  ‘Is it the same as the others?’ asked Fate.

  ‘He’s older than the previous victims,’ said Vivienne. ‘But apart from that, yes.’ He moved to a nearby bench and held up a bundle of wet, knotted rope. ‘The body parts were tied together and the cuts were made with the same kind of heavy blade. It certainly looks like the work of the Butcher.’

  ‘But?’ said Fate, for he could tell that there was something else.

  ‘Well,’ said Vivienne, moving back to the body. ‘He’s been in the water for several hours so it’s difficult to say for certain, but I think some of these cuts were made while he was still alive.’

  ‘Oh?’ said Fate.

  ‘Yes, see here,’ said Vivienne. ‘Some of the cuts have taken several attempts, and there are defensive injuries that suggest he might have been struggling.’

  ‘Hmm,’ said Fate. ‘And the others were dismembered after death?’

  ‘I believe so,’ replied Vivienne and the Tutor frowned in distaste.

  The demon hunter had seen plenty of corpses in his time, but he had never heard people discuss them in such a matter of fact kind of way.

  ‘And there’s something else,’ added the mortician.

  ‘What?’ asked Fate, and Vivienne seemed amused that he had not noticed.

  ‘Look at the skin.’

  Fate’s eyes moved over the man’s deathly white skin. For a moment he frowned in confusion, but then he gave a soft sniff. ‘No sheen,’ he said and Vivienne smiled.

  ‘No sheen?’ queried the Tutor as if they were talking nonsense.

  ‘The bodies of the other victims were covered with a faint metallic sheen,’ Fate explained. ‘As if someone had rubbed a silvery lotion into the skin.’

  ‘It actually glows in the dark,’ said Vivienne. ‘Would you care to see?’

  ‘You’ve got other victims here?’ exclaimed the Tutor. ‘How many?’

  ‘Only two,’ said the mortician. ‘I’ve examined eight, but most of them had family who wanted to bury the body.’ He turned to Fate. ‘I can show you if you like.’

  ‘Not just now,’ said Fate. ‘We’re currently looking for someone and we thought this might be him.’

  ‘It’s not?’ said Vivienne.

  ‘No,’ said Fate. ‘But I think we know who this is.’

  ‘Madam de Lorni’s friend,’ said the Tutor.

  ‘Yes,’ said Fate. ‘This is the sergeant who tried to help her.’

  ‘So… if this isn’t the work of the Butcher,’ began the Tutor, ‘then this man was killed because he was looking for Luca.’

  ‘And if the Medicis are willing to kill people for simply poking around…’

  The two men exchanged a look of concern.

  ‘We should get back to Weasel,’ said the Tutor and Fate nodded.

  Offering Vivienne a quick goodbye, they left the mortician’s cutting room and headed back to the storm drain beside the river.

  *

  Weasel and Daisy had watched in frightened silence as the pale figure appeared in the storm drain and began pacing back and forth as if he was looking for something.

  ‘He looks like a ghost,’ whispered Daisy.

  Weasel waved her to be quiet, but it was true. In the shadowed ‘cave’ of the storm drain the strange figure was shining with a faint silvery glow. It continued searching the ground then stopped to pick something up. It was now too dark to see what it was, but Weasel saw the figure tuck it into some kind of pouch at its waist. Then the figure disappeared into the cave and they heard a faint splash.

  Hardly had the sound ceased when Weasel rushed out of the bushes and ran towards the storm drain.

  ‘Weasel, wait!’ hissed Daisy as she reluctantly moved to follow him. ‘What are you doing?’ she whispered as she hovered at the mouth of the storm drain, unwilling to proceed into the dark cave-like space.

  Inside the cave, Weasel was peering through the hole in the wall.

  ‘I can see him,’ he whispered. ‘He must have gone through the water into the cave on the other side of this hole.’

  ‘You’re not going to…’

  ‘Follow him, yes,’ said Weasel as he quickly lit his wayfinder lantern.

  ‘You’re mad!’ said Daisy.

  ‘I’ll just go a little way,’ said Weasel. ‘Just so I have something to tell Master Fate.’

  Daisy’s face was pale with fear.

  ‘It’s alright,’ said Weasel. ‘I can outrun a big fella like that. And I can get through this hole while he has to swim under the water.’

  The terrified girl looked from the hole in the wall to the dark pool of water lying against the wall of the cave. The thought of going into either place horrified her but, even as she watched, Weasel wormed his way through the hole until he was standing on the other side, his face illuminated by the faint glow of his lantern.

  ‘I’ll be back in a trice,’ he said with a nervous but excited smile and Daisy could only watch as the light of his lantern began to move away. In its faint light, she could now see that the pool of water continued for quite some way into the adjoining chamber, running alongside a natural passage that disappeared into darkness.

  ‘Weasel!’ hissed Daisy in a final entreaty.

  ‘Back in a trice,’ came the faint reply.

  And with that, the light of Weasel’s lantern disappeared beyond a bend in the tunnel.

  The young wayfinder felt terribly alone as she slowly backed her way out of the storm drain. She knew that she could not leave while Weasel was still in there, but just being near the sewers made her feel sick with fear, and she could not believe that Weasel could be so foolish.

  ‘Weasel, you idiot,’ she breathed to herself. ‘Why did you have to do that?’

  ‘Do what?’ said a rough voice behind her and Daisy turned to see two armed men standing in the gloom.

  Daisy made to run, but one of the men reached out and grabbed her skinny wrist.

  ‘Hold on a minute, missy,’ said the man, his lips parted in an unpleasant smile revealing a gold tooth that glinted in the darkness. ‘You ain’t goin nowhere till you tell us what you’re doing here.’

  Daisy struggled and kicked, and then the man gave a cry of pain as she sank her teeth into his hand.

  ‘You little bitch!’ cursed the man and Daisy felt the world tilt as he smacked her to the ground with a heavy-handed slap. ‘Now,’ said the man as he grabbed hold of Daisy’s hair and hauled her to her knees. ’Why don’t we start again?’

  15

  The Curse of a Feral Mage

  Sienna and Amos were in the sitting room of the lawyer that Amos had mentioned, but things were not going well. Sienna frowned as the lawyer shifted nervously, refusing to look at them as he poured himself a glass of
brandy.

  ‘I’m sorry,’ said the grey-haired man. ‘I’m afraid I cannot take the case.’

  ‘But you said you would,’ said Amos. ‘You said you’d be happy to take it.’

  ‘I know,’ said the lawyer. ‘But that was before I knew who was prosecuting.’ He held up his hands to forestall their objections. ‘I’m sorry,’ he said, ‘but I need to protect my family.’

  ‘Protect them from what?’ said Sienna.

  ‘Lo Spirito Divino,’ said the lawyer as if it were obvious. ‘Your friend isn’t the only magic-user to be threatened by the priests of the Divine Spirit.’

  ‘You’ve dealt with them before?’ asked Amos and the lawyer’s shoulders sagged.

  ‘My niece,’ he said with a shake of his head. ‘A gifted magic-user, forced to leave the city because she refused to acknowledge the “one true power” of the Divine.’

  ‘I’m sorry,’ said Amos.

  ‘And she wasn’t dangerous like your friend,’ continued the lawyer. ‘If he’s losing control of his powers then he might be going through the Scourge.’

  ‘The what?’ asked Sienna and the lawyer gave a sigh.

  ‘There are four stages in the life of a feral mage,’ he began. ‘It begins when a child is about four with a stage they call the Spark. Next, comes the Flame when the young mage learns to control their power. This continues until they reach their teenage years when their powers become unstable during a stage known as the Scourge, a dangerous period that only a few feral mages survive. And even if they survive the Scourge, most feral mages are destroyed by a process known as Consumption, they become consumed by power, ego and ambition. There’s a reason why feral mages are so rare and so feared.’

  ‘Some must manage to control it,’ said Sienna.

  ‘True, said the lawyer. ‘And that is why we know their names. They become figures of myth and legend. Arcenlade… Montadimus… Torvonius the Black… mages so powerful as to make a mark on history itself.’

  ‘So you think Isaac could survive the Scourge?’

  The lawyer shrugged.

  ‘I think your friend is beginning to realise that the gift of being a feral mage is actually a curse.’

  ‘But Oruthian Bohr is a feral mage,’ said Sienna.

  ‘Indeed he is,’ said the lawyer. ‘But he has formed an alliance with the priests of the Divine Spirit, and now he’s using them to hunt down anyone who could challenge his power.’

  ‘Then Isaac doesn’t stand a chance.’

  ‘I’m sorry,’ said the lawyer. ‘But if he killed a priest of the Divine Spirit then I‘m afraid your friend is doomed.’

  Once again Sienna tried to object, but Amos knew there was no point arguing. With a half-hearted word of thanks, he bade the lawyer goodnight and led Sienna out onto the street where she rounded on him once more.

  ‘We have to get Isaac out!’ she cried.

  ‘How?’ said Amos. ‘Any trial is sure to be a sham and the prison is guarded by priests who wield a magical burning fire.’

  Sienna chewed her nails in thought.

  ‘The window of his cell is level with the street…’

  ‘Yes…’ said Amos warily.

  ‘So we just need to cut through the bars and pull him out.’

  Amos gave a sigh. ‘It would take hours to cut through those bars.’

  ‘But he’ll die if we don’t get him out!’

  ‘I know,’ said Amos. His face was tight with frustration until something occurred to him. ‘There might be another way.’

  ‘What other way?’ demanded Sienna, but Amos just smiled.

  ‘I think it’s time I introduced you to Hector and Starke.’

  16

  The Sump

  Fate and the Tutor were just a few minutes from the mortician’s when the Tutor spoke.

  ‘We’re being followed,’ he said as they hurried through the streets on the way back to the storm drain.

  ‘I know,’ said Fate. ‘It’s the Don’Sha’Vir.’

  ‘Strange that we didn’t notice him earlier.’

  ‘He must have been concealing his presence,’ said Fate. ‘Not so easy now that we’re moving more quickly.’

  ‘Well, maybe we should move even faster,’ said the Tutor and, stepping into the street, he leapt onto a passing hire carriage.

  ‘Woah!’ cried the driver as the Tutor grabbed the reins and drew the horses to a halt. ‘What the ‘ell…’ he began, but the Tutor cut him off.

  ‘Time for a detour, my friend,’ he said as Fate climbed onto the light carriage.

  ‘I’m on my way to a client,’ protested the driver.

  ‘They can wait,’ said the Tutor, holding out a handful of silver coins.

  The driver’s eyes widened at the sight of the money.

  ‘Yes they can,’ he said, and the horse gave a whinny of protest as he drew it sharply about. ‘Eeyup!’ cried the driver and the light carriage lurched forward.

  ‘Look,’ said Fate, pointing behind them as they sped off.

  The Tutor looked back down the street where three men had now emerged from the corner of a building. Two were ordinary house guards, but the third was dressed in the crimson robes of a nomad. Even now, standing in the open, his form seemed to shimmer slightly as if he were partially obscured by shifting clouds of shadow.

  A few minutes later Fate and the Tutor alighted from the carriage.

  ‘Maybe Medici’s men were just following us,’ said the Tutor as they hurried down the bank towards the river. ‘Maybe they didn’t go to the storm drain.’

  ‘Let’s hope so,’ said Fate.

  They began making their way through the blackthorn bushes then stopped as they heard a young girl cry out in pain. It was almost dark now but the scene was lit by the faint glow of a wayfinder’s lantern. There, just in front of the storm drain, two of the Medici guards were standing over the sobbing form of Daisy. The girl gave a muffled cry and the Tutor reached for one of the throwing stars from the bandoleer across his chest.

  ‘Please,’ mumbled Daisy, her mouth swollen and filled with blood. ‘I’ve told you everything.’

  ‘I know,’ said one of the men and a gold tooth glinted in the darkness as his lips drew back in a smile. ‘We’re just entertaining ourselves until the desert freak gets here.’

  The guard with the gold tooth raised his arm to strike the girl once more then cried out as a pointed disk of steel stabbed into the flesh of his shoulder. The second man looked up in alarm then grunted as another throwing star struck him in the chest.

  Barely did they have time to realise what was happening before the Tutor was upon them. Charging forward, he winded the first guard with a kick to the stomach. However, ‘Gold Tooth’ managed to draw his sword and the Tutor was forced to recoil as the shortsword slashed towards him. The man was clearly a trained fighter, but he was no match for a demon hunter. Drawing his own sword, the Tutor parried a series of attacks before disarming the man with a sweep of his Hadean blade. He pressed forward until the point of his sword was resting against the man’s chest and then he stopped as the first guard spoke up.

  ‘Cut him and the girl dies.’

  The Tutor looked round to see the first guard standing over Daisy with a knife pressed to her throat.

  ‘The sword,’ said the man. ‘Why don’t you put down the sword?’

  ‘Easy there,’ said the Tutor.

  Raising a hand to calm the man he placed his sword on the ground as Gold Tooth now stepped forward to place his own dagger against the Tutor’s throat.

  ‘Pathetic!’ he breathed into the Tutor’s ear. ‘Giving up your sword to save a worthless street rat. Now you’re both going to die.’

  The guard holding Daisy laughed, but the humour died on his lips as he felt the cold steel of a dragon-handled dagger press against his throat.

  ‘Let the girl go,’ said Fate.

  With an angry snort the man shoved Daisy away before turning to slash at Fate, but the sorcerer had been ready for s
uch a move and he avoided the man’s attack before stabbing him quickly in the gut.

  In the same instant, the Tutor twisted quickly raising a hand to block Gold Tooth’s dagger before hammering his fist into the man’s jaw. Taken by surprise, the man staggered back. Once again, he struck out with his dagger, but the Tutor grabbed his wrist and flipped him onto his back before relieving him of his knife.

  ‘You’re dead,’ said Gold Tooth as he scrambled back to his feet.

  ‘No, we’re not,’ said Fate. ‘But your friend soon will be if you don’t tend to that wound.’

  With a baleful glare, Gold Tooth crossed the clearing to his injured companion.

  ‘Lord Medici’ll kill you for interfering in his business.’

  ‘Perhaps,’ said Fate as he moved to stand beside Daisy while the Tutor retrieved his sword. ‘And perhaps he will want to know what really happened to his niece.’

  Uncertainty crept into Gold Tooth’s gaze as he stared into Fate’s dark eyes.

  ‘Come on,’ gasped the guard that Fate had stabbed. ‘We have to tell the boss.’ With final hate-filled looks, the two men staggered off through the bushes. Gold Tooth’s injuries were purely superficial, but the other guard would be lucky to make it back to the Medici mansion alive.

  As the two men disappeared, Fate bent down to Daisy. ‘Are you all right?’ he asked, and the girl gave a dazed nod as he wiped away some of the blood from her mouth. ‘Where’s Weasel?’

  Clearly in pain, Daisy pointed back towards the storm drain. ‘He… went… through the hole in the wall,’ she managed. ‘He wanted… to follow the… bogeyman.’

  ‘Bogeyman?’ queried the Tutor.

  ‘Big man,’ said Daisy in a strained and drowsy voice. ‘Pale skin… glowing… like a ghost.’

  With great care, they lifted the girl and carried her into the mouth of the storm drain where they sat her down on a dry mound of earth. Taking a small bottle from a pouch at his waist, Fate poured a couple of drops of brown liquid into Daisy’s swollen mouth.

  ‘We’ll never fit through there,’ said the Tutor as he examined the hole in the wall.

  ‘The water,’ mumbled Daisy. ‘The Bogeyman… went through the water.’