Midnight Monster Club

by Gerhard Gehrke

  “Is there a reason you’re not being helpful? A noble is missing and not only will you not lift a finger, but now you’re being obstinate.”

  The sheriff waved a hand. “Not my intention. I apologize for my poor manners. It’s been a long day and night. Yes, I was in the Temperance District. No, I did not see your friend or anything else of interest. I’m still trying to get a feel for the city. The waterfront is where you and your friends should focus your efforts. It’s well patrolled. The brothels there are clean, the bars full and safe, the fel are kept out of the district while your aunt the queen does her renovations. Your friend is probably holed up in a room with a whore.”

  “But that’s not where you were, or where Victor vanished.”

  The sheriff sighed. “Temperance is old Diregloom. It hasn’t been blessed with the traffic the businesses on the waterfront enjoy.”

  “A gravedigger picked up a body at the Thirsty Seven.”

  “I heard. The city guard responded. Nothing which required my attention.”

  “Was there anything else? Any fel out after curfew?”

  “That’s a city watch issue.”

  “Answer the question.”

  “It was a quiet night, Lord Angel. The only fel I saw were inside a bar under renovation. I did my duty and reminded them of curfew.”

  “What bar? We searched all the Temperance bars.”

  “This one is still closed. I believe it’s called the Dragon and Rose.”

  Chapter Thirteen

  ANGEL AND HIS COMPANIONS rode through the narrow streets. He led, urging his horse through the crowded bottlenecks. For some reason late afternoon brought everyone out. He shouted, cursed, and lost his riding crop trying to smack a pedestrian blocking his path. The good people of Diregloom moved when given encouragement. Still, carts and wagons choked the busy avenues at every major intersection, and merchant stands were set up in the most obstruent locations. The ride between Stockade Square and the Temperance District was taking too long.

  His aunt would be looking for him, but he put her out of his mind.

  The tip from the florist was the best lead Angel had heard since the hunt for Sprite had begun. The gravedigger matched the rogue’s description. And now the sheriff had given them a location where the missing Victor might have gone.

  Was the Dragon and Rose where Isabel had met this gravedigger?

  They rode up Prudence Street. Compared to the waterfront, the district was broken-down. There were few businesses open. The street bore marks of a fire that had burned some time before his arrival. Many of the singed structures hadn’t been torn down.

  The bar lay ahead.

  A woman stepped out of a doorway beneath an overhanging shingle bearing a dragon intertwined with a thorny rose vine. The creature in the sign was holding a faded red flower to its nose. The woman emptied a bucket of water before vanishing inside.

  Angel must have ridden past the establishment several times and never noticed it. Compared to the bars on the waterfront, the Dragon and Rose was a decrepit place that should have been put to the torch like its next-door neighbor. Angel knew dive bars and tried to avoid them. He wanted clean whores and intelligent bartenders who knew more than how to sling flat beer.

  He dismounted and, not finding a hitch, tied off his horse to the burned-out structure next door. His companions followed suit. They didn’t ask questions, no doubt sensing his tense mood.

  The door to the Dragon and Rose was locked. He pounded on it. After no one immediately came, he kicked the door. The hard wood shuddered.

  A lock clicked. A bar slid. A round-cheeked, red-haired woman peered out and squinted.

  “We’re closed.”

  Angel shoved the door and woman back and he and his companions forced themselves inside.

  “Hey! We’re not open! Get out of here!”

  Marisol closed the door and locked it.

  Angel took a moment to survey the place. It smelled as if someone had been cooking. And the woman smelled of boozy sweat.

  “We’re looking for someone. A couple of someones. They were here last night. Are you the manager?”

  The woman scowled. “I’m the owner. It’s Lady Sofia to you.”

  He let out a laugh. “A noblewoman? Running a bar?”

  “Not that it’s any of your business. No one was here last night. We’re months from opening. Now leave!”

  Without prompting, his companions spread out and searched the common room. One found a trapdoor behind the bar and went down into a cellar, while Marisol went into the back. She returned a moment later with a pasty greenskin wearing a stained apron. The fel was trembling as she plopped him on the floor in front of Angel.

  “Leave him alone!” Sofia said.

  Marisol ignored her. “That’s it for the kitchen. Looks like they’re cleaning up after a party.”

  Angel was suddenly very interested. “A party? I thought you said this place was closed.”

  “We’re under renovation,” Sofia said. “We’re trying out some recipes. What’s this all about? Who are you people?”

  Angel paced before her, his hand casually resting on the pommel of his rapier. On the floor lay what looked like a piece of lettuce and bits of other food. Whatever cleanup they were doing had been hasty. He crouched to inspect the floor behind the bar. The wood was damp as if it had been mopped.

  “Must have been a messy party. Does testing the kitchen involve throwing food about? Looks like you’ve done more than prepare recipes. Tell me, Lady Sofia, who was here last night? We have a friend who vanished. Victor. A little taller than me. Handsome fellow. There was also a girl who calls herself Sprite, but she might have gone by Isabel. He’s pureblood and noble. She’s a greenskin, like your wash boy here. A pretty thing. There might have been another fel, too. A gravedigger.”

  “I don’t know anything about them.”

  “No? Well, someone was here. Why don’t we start there? Who was in your bar last night?”

  When Sofia didn’t answer, he made a fist.

  She raised a defiant chin. “You wouldn’t dare.”

  He stepped aside as Marisol struck her. Sofia went down. Marisol had wrapped her right hand into a steel knuckleduster. She was crouching to hit her again when the fel shouted, “Stop it!”

  Angel motioned for Marisol. His cousin paused, looking disappointed.

  “A loyal slave pleads for his master?” Angel asked.

  The fel swallowed as if he had too much spit in his mouth. Licked his lips. “They were here, the people you were looking for. Lady Sofia didn’t see them, but I did.”

  When Angel motioned for him to continue, the fel looked like he was about to piss himself.

  “The girl came in here first. She had someone after her.”

  The wash boy stalled out again. Angel felt his patience waning.

  “Then the man with the sword came in looking for her,” the fel said. “There was a fight. One of the patrons killed him.”

  It was as if something in the room shifted. Angel’s companions looked like they were ready to murder the fel. Angel knew they wouldn’t do anything until he told them to, but even their patience would have limits now that they’d heard about Victor’s fate.

  “Who murdered the noble?” Angel asked.

  “He was...a stranger. One of the visitors who came to play cards. I...I didn’t know any of them.”

  “Describe him.”

  The wash boy’s eyes darted from companion to companion. “He was fel.”

  “You’re lying. There was a curfew. No fel would defy the edict for a card game.”

  “I posted notices,” the fel blurted. “I was going to cook. I didn’t think anyone would actually come.”

  Marisol let out a laugh.

  Angel glared at her. “So a stranger killed a nobleman last night. A fel stranger. Here. You know what hiding this means?”

  The fel wash boy who was also a cook didn’t answer.

  “The rope. You and every
other greenskin at your party will pay with your lives. But perhaps you might find mercy if you tell me what happened to the girl.”

  Philip, one of his companions, scratched his neck. “Angel...”

  “Not now. What’s your name, fel?”

  “Monty.”

  “Monty. Right now, Monty, your life is forfeit unless you tell me where she went.”

  “She went with the one who killed the noble. I don’t know where.”

  “Our friend Victor’s body isn’t here. So maybe we can start there. What happened to it?”

  Lady Sofia was staring at Monty with naked disbelief.

  Monty hesitated. When Marisol grabbed Sofia’s hair, he cried, “They took him with them to the cart out back.”

  “A cart? A gravedigger’s cart?”

  Monty nodded. Marisol released the noblewoman. She looked ready to go out back to resume the hunt. But Angel knew there had to be more.

  “Thank you, Monty, that’s helpful. But you’re still keeping something from me. Last night you cooked for your greenskin friends, spread a feast, played cards, and then joined in killing a pureblood noble. But you never exchanged names? Please. What’s this murderer’s name?”

  “Digger. That’s what he called himself.”

  He stared at Monty, but the fel looked too terrified to be making up such a silly name.

  “Digger, you say. A fel who collects the dead is named Digger. I’m sure that will narrow it down. We’ll find him even if we have to bring every cemetery worker in for questioning. Anything else I need to know about, Monty?”

  Monty shook his head.

  Lady Sofia spoke up. “I didn’t know about any of this. We’ll cooperate with the city guard. This is all a big mess, but I’ll get to the bottom of what happened here last night.”

  “Hmm,” Angel purred. “Lady Sofia. There must be a reason you’re on Loom Island away from your own kind and running a failed bar. What is it the homilies say? We reap what we sow? I’m afraid the time for calling the watch is over. Our companion is murdered and Diregloom has a pair of fugitives on its streets. And while my aunt, the queen, has her own form of justice, I believe we’re well in our rights to mete it out right here.”

  He gave Marisol a nod. She drew her sword and walked behind the fel cook. He closed his eyes and began muttering.

  Angel found himself trying to guess what the greenskin was saying.

  It sounded like an apology.

  Chapter Fourteen

  MONTY’S APARTMENT WAS located off a lot connected to the back alley behind the Dragon and Rose. It was a single room up a rear flight of stairs over a shop that manufactured buttons for garments.

  Digger had found him the place when they’d both needed to go into hiding. It had been perfect, with few neighbors, a pureblood landlord who was mostly blind and completely deaf, and an entry where no one could see his brother’s comings and goings. He had paid Monty’s rent months ahead, using up most of his savings earned before returning to Loom Island. His brother had no reason to go out and do anything that might endanger him.

  Somehow, it had all gone wrong.

  Monty had gotten a job with Lady Sofia, and not just any job. He had to become a cook. And then he had invited every fel in Diregloom to a card game.

  Digger paused at the corner to survey the lot to be sure no one was around. The afternoon sun was shining directly on the stairway. He could only hope Monty had gone home and was there now.

  “You look angry,” Isabel said.

  “I’m just thinking. Keep quiet. Your voice carries.”

  “We lost the people who were after us. Those tourists have no idea who we are.”

  “Well, there’s still the bandits who have it out for you. All they’ll have to do is spread some silver around and word will move quickly.”

  “Not everyone is evil.”

  He continued to watch. But there were few places worth hiding in daytime. “It’s clear.”

  He led her to the stairs and went up ahead of her. The door was locked. He tapped the wood with a fingernail. Waited. Knocked lightly.

  “Monty, it’s me,” he hissed.

  No answer.

  The time for subtlety was over. He was readying to kick the door in when Isabel stopped him.

  She produced a hairpin from a braid. “May I?”

  He stepped aside and watched as she bent the pin and made short work of the simple lock. With a click, they were inside.

  The curtains were drawn, which was good. The cluttered room had a lumpy bedroll in one corner and a sawed-down table next to a nest of pillows. There were a few lamps and stacks of books and notepaper. Digger felt renewed anxiety as he lit a candle.

  Isabel crouched and began to sift through the closest stack. “Cookbooks?”

  Digger saw a few of the titles and recognized the colorful covers. Some of these had been from their parents’ collection. The only way Monty could even have them was if he had returned to their restaurant and taken them.

  He felt his stomach grow tight. “Wait here.”

  “What am I supposed to do?”

  “Nothing. Stay put. Monty’s probably still at the bar. I’ll be back in five minutes.”

  All he could think about was how Monty had spoiled a perfect situation. With the current laws, it would be harder to find a new place to conceal him. They were back to square one. His brother was both talented and limited. Their father had said Monty was a natural, their mother had called him gifted. But outside of the kitchen, Monty was lost.

  Clutching the shovel, Digger crossed the lot and followed the alley. The back door to the Dragon and Rose was unlocked. Voices came from the common room. Digger’s breath caught as he eased across the storeroom floor and strained his ears.

  He heard a crisp voice talking, someone used to people listening. Educated. Patronizing. His brother answered, sounding desperate. Lady Sofia also spoke.

  Digger peered out and saw a group of tourists. But this wasn’t the band who had chased Isabel and him through the streets. The group standing over Monty and Sofia were the same ones who had confronted the sheriff.

  He felt a chill in his blood.

  These were the friends of the man Digger had killed. Their leader was Lord Angel.

  One of them, a woman with braided hair, drew her sword. She moved behind Monty.

  There was no time to plan or think. Digger stepped out into the common room. He swung the shovel into the face of the nearest tourist. The metal head smashed into the man’s nose with a crunch. Not stopping, Digger charged the next man and brought the shovel up into a high arc.

  But the man was quick and rolled out of the way. His sword was out in a flash and he spun, assuming a low fighting stance. The others moved, shoving chairs and tables aside. Shouting. Spreading out.

  Monty and Sofia scrambled behind the bar.

  Digger ran for the closest man, who was fumbling to clear his sword from the long cape he wore. Digger drove his fist into the man and he went down. He turned in time to see another charging, his sword out and slicing through the air. Digger flipped a chair across the man’s path and he stumbled, but Digger almost tripped as he stepped out of the way of the clumsy blow.

  “That’s him!” Angel said.

  The remaining three did as ordered. The woman was closing in. Her sword was poised behind her and her gloved hand was outstretched as if she were feeling the air. The other two followed suit, one to Digger’s left and one to his right. All of them were trained. The clumsy tourists he had faced earlier were amateurs in comparison.

  Digger had nowhere to go. There was nothing but stacked chairs, tables, and a wall behind him.

  Angel pulled his own rapier. His ringed fingers clicked on the weapon’s grip. “Drop the shovel. You can salvage this with your life if you surrender.”

  “It didn’t look like you were taking prisoners.”

  “You’re surrounded. You’ve murdered a pureblood. I commend you for coming forward. Now give yourself up
before you and anyone you might know pay the price for your crime.”

  The woman lunged at him, the sword’s tip zigzagging though the air. Digger swung his shovel but she was too quick. She drew back and again thrust her blade, making him lose his balance as he moved to block her. But her sword was everywhere. She was laughing. Toying with him. She was a cat with a mouse.

  The other two were holding back. Angel remained behind them.

  If all three came for him, Digger might catch any one of them with his shovel as they got in each other’s way. But this woman commanded the floor. One mistake and he was dead. A trained fighter like her only needed a single opening.

  “Lord Angel, is it?” Digger called while keeping his eyes on his opponent.

  Angel smirked. “Have we been introduced?”

  The woman smacked the nearest chair with her sword. “You don’t address him. Your kind doesn’t speak unless spoken to.”

  “Tut-tut, Marisol. Perhaps our gravedigger friend wishes to know if I’ll honor his surrender. Of course I will. You’ll see justice. But more importantly, you’ll save whatever family you have from a date with the gallows.”

  “I’m listening,” Digger said. The sweat on his brow began to sting his eyes. He fought to blink it away.

  “Are you expecting more terms? Drop that ridiculous shovel.”

  “I don’t think so. I’ll take one of you with me. But you want something, and I want to know what. If it’s revenge, you’d just kill me.”

  This only appeared to amuse Angel. But his face went stern. “I don’t have time to waste, gravedigger. By your admission you killed one of us. That demands justice. But you had a woman with you. My dear Sprite. She had in her possession something I want back.”

  So they were here for the watch. “What are you looking for, exactly?”

  “This is your life on the line, and you ask stupid questions. You were with her. Tell me where she is, and you still have a chance at mercy. Otherwise you die by inches and days. My aunt’s tournament will have a new side attraction with you as the star.”

  “Claudia’s your aunt?”

  “Queen Claudia to you, fel. Now where’s the girl?”