by Gavin Magson
Aiko had not shown any resentment for being absent from Ajax’s burial, in fact these were the first emotions he had seen from her since Duke had brought Aiko to the Haven for Ajax's wake; it amazed him she had held them at bay for so long.
Sal had insisted that they drank in private, dusting out the long disused function room to the taverns rear, and he had called in several favours to find staff to cover the kitchen and dining area whilst he and his daughters took the night off.
The innkeeper had brought in two kegs, resting them on an old table for everyone to drink from, and already one had been drained dry. Duke had never seen the innkeeper so drunk before, and the same could be said for Lev.
“I’ve already been over this with you, she and Henry will be lightyears out of range by now. My message might not get to her until they are already back on Konar, which for all we know could be weeks away. I’m sure she will show up, given time, and we will be there for her like all of us are here for each other today.” said Greg, his speech slurred by the excessive amount of ale he had quaffed.
“Was there any kind of report, anything to say what happened to him?” asked Duke, his eyes struggling to focus on the sombre face of Aiko.
“I found his location from the monitoring system we use. He was in the middle of Sector Seven when his signal disappeared, along with several others. I contacted some mercenaries he had worked alongside when working in Six, as they were nearby, and they went in search of him. Whoever is responsible had access to high-end explosives, which Miles, that team’s leader, thinks was probably dropped by aircraft. I’ve tried to identify who in Seven might have those kind of resources, but since the weaponry took out over a dozen mercenaries and whoever they were fighting at the time I doubt that Ajax was the target.” Aiko went silent, her eyes focused on the tankard she was rotating between her hands. “He didn’t stand a chance.” said Aiko, her voice full of hate and hurt.
“He may not have been some fairy-tale hero, but Ajax was a real man who stood up for what he believed in, and he was humble enough that he wouldn’t believe it when I told him. I've seen every type of person pass through my tavern, never once seen someone stand up for a helpless soul in the way Ajax did for my Maria. Did I tell you all what he did before that stint in prison?” Sal asked, his own voice slurred and full of sorrow.
“No, I don't think you ever told them, uncle.” said Maria, nursing a glass of red wine that matched the colour of her puffy eyes.
“We had a customer send back some food, claiming his steak was practically cold and the dressing foul. I really pride myself on my cooking, I made sure it went back to him cooked to perfection. He still didn't like it so I came out of the kitchen, during our rush hour, to see what the problem was.
“He was obviously looking for a free meal, mouthing off that it was the worst food he had ever tried. When I told him to settle his bill and take his custom elsewhere the man became enraged, he started screaming like a man possessed. He picked up his steak knife and lunged at me, damn near tore my throat out.
“It was only because of Ajax's fast reactions that the man didn't end me right there and then, blocking the slash and disarming the man. I’ve never seen someone move that fast. Ajax must have seen the attack coming as he had walked over just in time to stop him. The man’s wife appeared to calm him down after that, he even apologised for his actions; I was stupid to forgive him and not inform the police. That night he came back, and not alone. Four men tried to jump me as I was closing up, but Ajax was there yet again.
“Ajax beat them all, unarmed against four men with knives and a cudgel. I was convinced a blow broke his collar bone, the scream of pain that came from him was unnerving. Despite this he fought on, even when a blade was plunge almost straight through his shoulder. I wish I could say that I was any help to him, but there was barely time for me to react. The best I could do was to stich him up afterwards. Ajax was truly selfless, such a thing is so rare in our city. I will always miss him.”
As Sal finished talking he drained his tankard in one noisy gulp, the gesture mirrored by all sat at the wide table, and it rattled gently when he lowered it to the wooden surface.
“I always wondered what happened; that scar was horrendous,” said Aiko, a puzzled look on her face. “He said that he didn't want to discuss it whenever I mentioned the scar, always tried to cover it up if he could. There are so many things I don't know about him, and I never will.” her voice trailed off, quickly replaced by gentle, silent sobs that shook her shoulders.
Duke reached his arm around the woman, squeezing her reassuringly as Aiko cried for her loss. She did not want to admit it in front of Ajax's closest friends, but she had quickly come to love the man, even if they had only been together for a short time. Aiko had known him far longer than that and felt such affinity with Ajax, even more so when the truth of his amnesia had come out before the union. She did not care about Lev’s claims of Ilya’s love, Aiko knew nothing had happened between the pair and she was not the type to resent someone caring about her lover.
“What do we do now?” asked Greg, chewing on his lip absent minded, trying to change the subject and lighten the mood.
“There isn't much that we can do but carry on with life. When you are both ready the Illicit Jane will be waiting for you; we still have a job to do. I doubt if Ilya will be in contact before we depart,” said Duke, gripping Aiko tighter as her shoulder shook with more vigour. “We have to soldier on, Ajax would not want his money wasted on us drinking our sorrows away. Let us remember Ajax for who he was, he would have wanted all of us to be happy.”
“Duke is right; we all need to move on.” said Aiko. “But I am not going to rest until whoever is responsible for his death is dead. I have every resource at my disposal looking for information; trust me when I say his death will be avenged.”
“Do you think she really meant it?” asked Lev.
Greg rolled over on the bed, the frame creaking as he moved around. His head was still swimming, even after emptying his stomach twice since Lev had dragged him away to their room. Despite his drunkenness Aiko’s words were still fresh in his mind; who else could Lev be talking about?
“A woman in her position probably doesn’t make empty threats. So yes, I do think she meant it. If there is someone out there alive who, in whatever way, can be found to be responsible for his death I wouldn’t be surprised if she saw them dead. I wouldn’t want to piss anyone off in Rine’s organisation.”
“No, I definitely wouldn’t want to do that. The way Ilya was talking when Duke and Ajax were arrested I thought they were never coming back. To think back then I would have been happy to see Duke returned at the cost of the stranger Ajax was, now it’s like a brother has been lost.”
Greg reached up with his right hand and placed his thumb between Lev’s eyebrows, moving it slowly along his tanned skin to stroke the fine hairs. It was something he had done every time Lev was angry, sad, sick, or in any way emotional. It always seemed to calm the giant, but Greg could still see the lines of worry on his lover’s face.
“I don’t know how I feel about her going after his killer. Ajax was a strong man, and he made the choice to go into the slums of his own volition. Duke tried his best to reject the money, and when that didn’t work he tried to convince him against such a dangerous life. A life like Ajax’s burns bright, and fades faster than that of you or me. It makes me so incredibly angry that he is dead, because he was such a rare friend. But I am also angry at him for wasting the life he was given when we rescued him. In a way I blame Ajax for his death, not whoever dropped a bomb on him.” Greg let the tears roll from his face, no more could he hold them at bay.
“Did you really mean it? Will you see his killer’s dead?” asked Sarah.
Aiko looked up from the tankards surface into those pain filled eyes, they were little different than the reflection full of guilt, sadness, and anger that she had been staring at.
“Of course I did; I would not make an empty t
hreat like that when a man I…I care so much for is dead.”
Duke and Sal were stood by the near empty keg, whatever they were talking about kept at a hushed whisper. Neither man seemed interested in Aiko, Sarah, or Maria, but then they were so drunk both were swaying on the spot and spilling what remained of their drinks. Infrequently a sudden raised word could be heard by the women, but the men were doing their best to remain secretive.
“I don’t know if violence is the answer.” said Maria, her wine bottle long since finished. “If you do find who is responsible, and kill them, then someone might come for you one day; do you think Ajax would want you to risk yourself because of him? And what if they are already dead? I bet that wouldn’t take away your pain, or our pain; killing them would just be the same. We need to move on, and you need to move on too. By remembering him we honour his memory, but by avenging him you will only cause more hurt in the world.”
Duke and Sal pulled up seats at the table, their tankards once more full and shaking precariously. Maria reached out her hand and patted that of her uncles, the different in size causing Aiko to smile for the first time that night.
“I know what you are saying is right; avenging Ajax won’t bring me any happiness. No, I am going to do it because that is what I promised him I would do if this ever happened.”
“You and Ajax talked about that kind of thing?” asked Duke.
“Yes, it sounds strange, but we discussed what would happen if he died whilst working for Rine. I was concerned when he first went to Six, and that increased a thousand-fold when he got shot up and was out of contact for four days. He didn’t seem on-board with the idea when I mentioned it, but I insisted that if anything happened to him I would make sure that the person, or persons, responsible share his fate. Mark my words, his killers time will soon come to an end.”
Chapter 7
The crack of the whip was amplified by the small room, it’s boom echoing on as Ilya screamed so loud into the cloth gag that her throat burned in agony. She no longer heard the crack, every part of her felt it as it peeled and split her flesh with ease. Her wrists were raw and bloody from the rope that rubbed against them, gone now was the strength she once had to pull against the restraints.
Henry did not show her mercy, he had not done for weeks and would never do so; he made a point of reminding her each time he stopped the days punishment. Ilya had betrayed him, a single kiss with Ajax that stoked his rage every time the betrayal came to his mind. He knew that her pain would never equal that of his own, but Henry would do whatever it took to punish her.
Blood was running freely from the naked woman's ruined back, soaking the fresh sheets Henry had laid down under Ilya's feet. It was erotic, every drop of crimson, every pain filled scream; it was his biggest desire come true. In a way Henry was happy she had cheated; all of this was justified the second Ilya broke his trust.
“All I want to hear is your apology, beg my forgiveness and it will be granted to you.” he said, coiling up the whip whilst Ilya tried to recover. “I will take out your gag, all you have to do is apologise and admit that Ajax was a piece of slum scum, a waste of life who deserved to be torn apart and discarded, and I will absolve you of your sins.”
Henry stepped around her sagging body, careful not to get too close as he pulled out the strip of cloth that gagged Ilya. He had learnt the hard way that she had not yet accepted her punishment, the savage teeth marks on his hand testament to this.
Those eyes, almost dead and lifeless, looked into his as Ilya struggled to raise her head. At some time during the whipping she had soiled herself, her bowels releasing as the pain mounted up and passed her threshold. Old tears had dried after streaking down her face, every last drop long extinguished from her body. Ilya closed her mouth, mustered up what little saliva she had left and spat, the thick globule of bloodied spit hitting Henry straight in the eye. She smiled with satisfaction.
His palm was swift, even if she could move Ilya would not have been able to avoid the blow. The noise rang out around the room, yet this time it was not joined by a cry of pain. The whip she could never get used to, the first time Ilya had not shown her pain Henry had whipped her until he hit bone; that was a pain Ilya never wanted to experience again. The gag was soon back in her mouth, Henry moving around her as Ilya tensed for the next crack of his whip. Instead of the sharp pain she expected two hands lifted her body, forcing her to stand up and not sag on the ropes suspended above.
Someone wiped her down carefully, removing the waste before another cloth cleaned her bleeding wounds. Whatever was soaked on the cloth only made her pain increase, yet it soon subsided as the healing began. It had been like this every day since Ajax's death, confined to this room until Henry returned from work and would tie her up once again.
Once Henry was done for the day Rowan would be sent in to clean up the mess and tend to Ilya. The man must be fast approaching seventy, judging by his white hair, multitude of wrinkles, and curved spine, yet he lifted her frail body from the floor with increasing ease each day.
Rowan would only untie the rope when he had finished cleaning and dressing her wounds, knowing full well that Ilya would not be able to support her own weight when she was released. He caught Ilya as her limp body fell towards the floor, a muffled curse coming from the wizened man as his joints creaked and struggled to lift the dead weight.
Ilya had to give it to the man, despite the many times he had carried her naked, bloody body to the bed he had never once taken advantage of the opportunity. She would have been powerless if the man was anything but kind. Ilya could see in his eyes just how much his master’s actions hurt him, but for fear of being overheard by Henry she had never asked Rowan what he thought of this torture. It may not have been physical pain like hers, but Rowan was equally wounded, betrayed by someone he should trust and respect.
Ilya lay still as he wrapped the bandages around her wounds and tied them on her stomach; to move was to hurt. She was drifting out of focus as her body relaxed on the bed, but Ilya fought it for the moment. She was all too aware of the soft, comfortable mattress underneath her and the soothing voice as a hand stroked her face. Ilya opened her eyes to see Rowan, a short knife held in his free hand, uttering soft words to her.
“You just have to say the words, my dear, and I will end this suffering for you.”
Ilya could not be sure, since she had long since lost count of the days in her windowless prison, but it had taken at least a full week before Rowan had first made such an offer. Every day since then he offered her a way out, and each time Ilya replied, “No, Henry will never break me.”
Today was no different, and something changed in Rowan’s stern face as she whispered those words. He was glad that Ilya still wished to carry on living, yet a part of him hoped that one day she would take him up on the offer.
Rowan had planned for that day. He would not stand a chance of escape, Henry would track him down and do to him what Ilya had suffered for weeks on end. Perhaps his heart would give out first, though hoping for such a thing was futile. No, Rowan would take his life after Ilya’s and rob Henry of carrying out his perversion any longer.
“You need to rest, Ilya, I’ll bring you whatever food I can in an hour. I’ll also check the bandages in case they need changing.”
Rowan leant forward and kissed Ilya on the forehead, when he leant back she gave him one of those rare smiles of hers. He stood up from the bed and pulled the covers over her; almost immediately her eyes drooped, and he heard Ilya’s breathing settle as exhaustion took her.
There was no need to sneak around whilst tidying the room, Ilya would not wake if he dropped the entire kitchens contents of pans next to her. Rowan used the sheets Henry had laid down to mop up the blood splatters that dotted the wooden floorboards, before he resorted to soap and water to remove what remained.
Since the night Ajax had come in search of Ilya almost all of the mansions staff had been let go, only the few that Henry deemed trustworthy, or too
easily intimidated, had he allowed to stay. Now Rowan had been given extra duties, cleaning after the masters’ sessions was far from the most exhausting.
When the last of the blood, piss, and shit had been wiped away Rowan gathered everything he had brought into the room, as well as the heavily soiled sheets, and made his way down to the laundry room.
Rowan took his time on the stairs, he struggled with the equipment he had to carry but would not rush; he had seen a co-worker fall down the spiral staircase once before. Henry had made a donation to their family to help with funeral arrangements, but Rowan knew the sum of money had been insignificantly small, compared with the Mayor’s wealth, yet enough to silence the grieving relatives left behind.
By the time he reached the ground floor Rowan was out of breath, wheezing as he struggled to catch his breath. He set down the bag he held in his right hand and the full bucket in the left, only then could he begin to breathe easier.
At the base of the staircase was a tall entrance hall, intersected by one long corridor that would give you access to any of the numerous ground floor rooms, or the short walkway ahead to the mansion’s front doors.
It was nearing four weeks since Ajax had stepped foot through those doors in search of Ilya, four weeks since Henry had the man killed. Rowan had heard the story from Ilya, the parts she knew at least. The rest he had gathered over time, piecing it together from the extra security that now guarded the mansion and its grounds.
Henry had not anticipated a second person coming to the mansion in search of her, so sure he was that Ilya meant little to anyone but the dead man. Rowan was commanded to deter the man and remind him both Henry and Ilya would be out of the system for many weeks. Duke had left a note with Rowan and asked the servant to hand it to Ilya personally as soon as she arrived back on the planet. Thankfully Henry had ensured he was nowhere in sight, which allowed Rowan to stow the note away.
