Midnight Monster Club

by Gerhard Gehrke

  Diregloom’s sheltered bay on the south shore of the island had become a crowded place during the past few years. The harbor was chock-full of boats, a hodgepodge of barges, sailing vessels, prams, and cargo ships. A few were little more than shanties on pontoons. Many of the vessels were home to new arrivals along with those who couldn’t afford the rising rents and refused to live near the slums. Planks connected several by common accord, shared easements that were often wide enough to accommodate handcarts.

  Digger had collected his share of corpses from the harbor and still found the place confusing.

  The district held the poorest of the city alongside the newly wealthy and newcomers in search of profit or catacomb fame. The Wharf Rats and other gangs competed for customers for their drug and prostitution business, and more than a few brawls had broken out across the boat decks. Because of its makeup it remained less patrolled than the rest of the city.

  The sheriff was walking onto one of the fixed docks that led to the heart of the harbor. Normally by this time of the evening the boats would be bright with lamplight, but many vessels remained dark. The sounds of renewed music from the festivities carried down to the water.

  Isabel led Digger to the corner of a dock house out on the pier. Here on the wooden planks her shoes made too much noise. He walked gingerly across the groaning planks after her. Fortunately the boats made their own regular bumps and creaks and the dock was far from lifeless. Voices and sounds of evening chores came from all around them, along with children laughing, a few dogs barking, and a baby or seven crying.

  The sheriff headed up a gangway that ran across the bows of several barges. The raised passageway allowed no place to hide.

  Digger nudged Isabel. “Hold back.”

  She nodded and then broke cover, scurrying towards the gangway. He muttered a curse and followed. They moved up onto the walkway. But up ahead the sheriff had vanished from sight.

  Had they lost him?

  There were several intercepting planks leading every direction off the gangway. None were lit. The locals must have realized that anyone that belonged there would know where they were going. Or, more likely, no one wanted to pay for a lamp and oil. Plus, the last thing boat dwellers would want was an unattended fire, no matter how small.

  The footing was precarious as the gangway extended beyond a second row of lashed-together boats and along a row of pilings before passing between a few larger vessels.

  Isabel paused at the rope ladder to a barge. She put a finger to her lips before climbing up and vanishing. Digger hurried after her. At least the barge would afford them a better view.

  The dark vessel had activity on its deck. A nearby man with a knit cap and apron was crouched over a brazier loaded with glowing hot coals. Small fish sizzled before him.

  There were several other grills on deck, as if more than one cook might work his trade at any given time. Against the far railing were nets, poles, and other equipment lashed to racks. Laundry dried on clotheslines. Inside a hut at the far end of the barge, a curtain snapped closed.

  Even as Digger’s eyes adjusted, he knew there were too many places to hide. They were vulnerable. This was a perfect ambush point and they were backlit by the lights spilling across the docks from the city.

  Just as he was about to get Isabel to retreat down the ladder, he spied another gangway on the opposite side of the barge connecting to a single sloop.

  “You saw him come up here?” he whispered.

  She nodded and approached the cook. He glanced up at her as he turned his fish. Then he picked up a metal bowl and began to remove them from the grill with a set of tongs.

  “Any food for sale?” she asked.

  He waved his hand dismissively and shook his head.

  “Too bad. I have coins and I’m hungry.”

  The cook paused. He reached into a pouch and produced a sheet of dried seaweed, then filled the wrapper with one of the fish. “Two pennies.”

  Isabel fumbled with her clothes.

  Digger saw scrip in her hand but no coin. He went to his own coin pouch and paid the man. He then nodded towards the sloop.

  “Is that boat for rent?”

  “Nuh. She’s occupied.”

  “Are they home?”

  The cook shrugged. Using the tongs, he pulled a solid lid across the coals.

  Digger handed over two more coins. “I’m going to have a word with your neighbor. If that’s okay with you, of course.”

  The cook appeared to not have heard. But he took the money.

  Digger and Isabel moved past him and prepared to descend the gangway to the sloop. It was a precarious balance. But Isabel didn’t hesitate, hurrying along its length to the deck of the other boat. The wood bowed as Digger placed his weight on it. He inched forward. The sloop began to bob in the water as he got close.

  If the sheriff was on board, he would surely know they were there.

  Digger got his shovel ready and used it to keep his balance as he prepared to finish his crossing.

  Isabel was waiting for him. “Come on,” she whispered.

  Behind them, the cook banged his tongs in a rapid staccato beat.

  Tap-tappity-tap-tap. Tap. Tap.

  Digger swore. He knew a signal when he heard one.

  The sheriff appeared on the deck of the barge, his cudgel and knife out. “There are advantages to knowing your neighbors. And I saw you following me. Can I help the two of you with something?”

  Digger pivoted carefully while struggling to keep the plank beneath him from wobbling. “The watch you took from the Dragon and Rose. We know its owner. We’d like to get it back.”

  “And what makes you think I still have it?”

  “Do you?” Isabel asked. “It’s important.”

  “I can see that. Fel are practically ordered to attend when the queen speaks, and yet the two of you are here, and on an open night without curfew.”

  “We have coin,” Digger said. “We can pay. A fair reward for finding it, which we’re happy to share.”

  “And is that what you had in mind with your visit? What’s the shovel for?”

  “My work. I didn’t want to leave it anywhere to be stolen.”

  “Of course you wouldn’t. But two fel coming in the night...it’s like a story my mother would tell us as children about how it used to be. When your kind ruled. A cautious man would be concerned about your intentions.”

  “I’m here to make a deal. The watch is nothing but trouble. You give it to us and we pay you and go our separate ways.”

  The sheriff casually rapped his cudgel against his leg. “How interesting. I imagine that’s how things are done with the city watch. A pity, really. Once folks believe that they need coin to get their city servants to do their job, so begins the spiral of corruption. But I’d meet this watch owner. I have questions. How about you two come with me to the stockade where we can have our discussion?”

  “We’d rather not. Time is an issue. That watch belongs to a noble who doesn’t want to get embarrassed.”

  “Well, now you’ve just stirred my imagination. Did this noble lose it, perhaps, in your card game? Then why didn’t the winner claim it?”

  “I won it,” Isabel said. “I was showing it off. But when you came into the bar I thought you’d arrest me if I tried to stop you from taking it.”

  “I see. I still think it’s best if you come along with me. This will get sorted. Your noble will get his watch. Everyone will be happy. Agreed?”

  The sheriff stepped aside and gestured for Digger and Isabel to return to the barge. As Digger got close, the man held his hand out.

  “Your shovel, please?”

  Digger handed it over. As Isabel stepped past, she jumped at the sheriff. She was wielding a leather blackjack, which she swung at his head. He was ready. He blocked the blow with the cudgel and knocked her in the forehead with the knife hilt, sending her to the deck. Digger tried for the shovel but the sheriff sidestepped and slashed with his dagger, for
cing Digger back.

  Isabel groaned. She was having trouble standing.

  Digger picked up a boat pole. It was heavy but too long. For the moment it would have to do.

  The cook went charging past them and scurried off the barge. He was screaming for help.

  Digger got his footing and watched the sheriff. The man wasn’t going to attack. All he had to do was wait until more guards came. Digger could only hope they were all busy with the queen’s party.

  He swung the pole down but the sheriff edged away out of range. Digger thrust the end of the pole and advanced, trying to get the man off-balance while careful of his own footing. The sheriff moved deftly around the metal brazier and didn’t allow himself to get hemmed in.

  The sheriff hopped over another grill. “So how is it a menial laborer learns to move so quickly? It’s as if you had training. Were you a copper before the edict?”

  Digger refused to be distracted. He shoved the pole forward. The sheriff chopped into it with his dagger and grabbed it. They both tugged. Digger proved stronger, but in yanking the pole free he lost his balance. The sheriff took the opening and moved inside the pole’s reach. He swiped at Digger’s leg with the cudgel and smacked him on the thigh. Pain exploded up his leg. If it had been his knee he would have been crippled.

  Digger punched him. The sheriff shifted so the blow landed on his shoulder, but it made the man back off. Digger threw the clumsy pole away with the dagger still stuck in it. But before he could press forward, the sheriff surprised him by launching at him while swinging the club. It was Digger’s turn to retreat. He quickly found himself at the edge of the barge, where the railing was missing.

  The black water waited.

  If he fell in, it would be over. He would either drown, be crushed by the shifting boats, or get captured. Or the sheriff might just kill him. No questions would be asked. Another dead fel for the communal grave. Angel would kill his brother and it would be as if his family had never existed.

  Someone began blowing a metal whistle. Whatever guard detail patrolled the harbor was now coming.

  The sheriff was poised to strike again, his cudgel firm in hand.

  “You keep the gold watch,” Digger said. “No other guard needs to know about it.”

  “What they know and don’t know matters little to me. But we both seem to know what this watch really is. It doesn’t belong to any nobleman, does it? Rather, it appears to be from the collection of the lady of the island. Queen Claudia is renowned for her love of timepieces. You still expect me to believe it showed up at a fel poker game?”

  The sheriff backed away and hauled Isabel to her feet. He gave her a quick pat-down and tossed aside a knife. Guards were climbing onto the barge.

  Digger took a last look at the water. There was a chance he might make it by leaving Isabel, but then he’d have the guards hunting him, assuming he survived the swim. The alternative was getting arrested. He and Isabel had assaulted the sheriff, so it was likely they’d face the noose in the morning.

  But this sheriff wasn’t part of the city guard. He wanted information from them. Digger tried to get a read on the man. If the sheriff wasn’t interested in working with him, he’d take his chances in the water.

  “I’ll tell you about the watch, Sheriff. You’re right to be concerned. Because the people who are after it will do anything to get it back. You’ll need our help in making this problem go away.”

  As the group of guards clomped across the barge deck towards him, the sheriff raised a hand for them to wait.

  “Explain yourself.”

  “You’re no nobleman, judging by the fact you’re living in the harbor. I saw you earlier today dealing with the princeling who lost the timepiece. My kind has gotten good at seeing what purebloods do when they lose face. How much more so when it’s a noble.”

  The sheriff gave the smallest smile.

  “I have to be the one who gives him the watch,” Digger continued. “He’s threatened others. He won’t care who you are once he finds out you have it.”

  The sheriff scoffed. “You’d do that for me?”

  One of the guards had a bow and he proceeded to nock an arrow. Approaching below, two guards in a narrow rowboat closed in as they rounded the barge.

  “I’m not worried about you, Sheriff. What I want is your word that none of my friends who were at the bar will get hurt. They had nothing to do with this. But this Lord Angel will go through them to get to you.”

  “That’s something I’ll deal with. You want a promise from me? Okay, fel. I give you my promise. We’ll settle this matter between ourselves. I have so many questions and you, it seems, have answers. But I warn you not to waste my time. Because if it turns out you two are nothing more than a pair of thieves, I’ll be sure it doesn’t go easy with either of you.”

  Chapter Nineteen

  “WAKE UP,” ANGEL’S AUNT said.

  She was working a series of hairpins out of her elaborate coiffure and setting them on the display case.

  He wiped spittle from the corner of his mouth and almost fell out of the chair. He rose and looked about. They were alone. He resisted the urge to ask what time it was.

  The sounds of the queen’s big bash had faded. The clocks struck one.

  He hadn’t meant to sleep. He was well past overdue for his meeting with the gravedigger. If he could only get his aunt to forgive him. Convince her that he was going to make everything better. Make her see that her favorite nephew Angel was there to take care of her.

  She lit a lamp at the desk. “Come here, Angel.”

  He stepped closer and looked down at the desk as if there was something there to capture his attention. They were alone. He didn’t see the long ivory hairpin in her hand until it was too late. She grabbed him by the shirt and yanked hard, pulling him down to his knees. Before he could react, she pressed the hairpin against his cheek, the tip poking him below his left eyelid.

  He gripped her hand but couldn’t dislodge it.

  “Be still, my sweet. You wouldn’t want me to have to take out both eyes to make my point?”

  “Please! No! Aunt Claudia, don’t!”

  “Shush. Shhh. No more talk out of you. No more excuses. No more acting the boy when you want to be a man. Boys sometimes give in to foolishness. You’re no fool, Angel. I have many a bore in my family but we raise no dullards. Unless you believe you’re the exception?”

  She shook him when he didn’t answer.

  “I’m no fool,” he said.

  “Good. Then I won’t repeat myself. You stole from me something more precious than you can imagine.”

  “Yes. The watch. I know who took it from me. I was getting it back when you summoned me.”

  He screamed as the blade prodded the skin.

  “Stop sniveling. My patience is spent. My night is ruined. I planned for this for so long, and with one act you put my games at risk.”

  “I’m going to make it right!”

  She let out a sharp sigh. “You still don’t know what you’ve done.”

  The hairpin lifted and she released him. He caught the desk to keep from falling to the floor.

  “You have a minute to explain.”

  He looked up at her and the clocks. Tick, tick, tick. The sound was once again oppressive.

  “I took credit from a gangster and then lost big. I needed the watch to pay my debt. But then a girl stole it from me before I could do it.”

  She pulled one of her sleeves back and her arm sparkled. She was wearing her collection of wristwatches. These were all smaller than the centerpiece he had taken, but each must have been worth enough to cover what he owed Red Eye.

  “So you broke into the case and took the watch,” she prompted.

  He nodded. “This gangster is going to kill me. But the girl and her friends...I’m supposed to meet them at the square. I’ll get the watch back. I’ll bring it to you. I’ll find another way to pay off the gangster.”

  She was scowling. Didn’t appear
to care about a word he was saying. What did she want from him?

  “You have seconds left, and still you don’t understand what you’ve done.”

  He fell to his knees. “I violated your trust. I sinned against God.”

  “And what did you do after you removed my prize from the case?”

  He reviewed the event in the moments he had left. She was almost done with him. What else was there besides the stolen watch that could infuriate her so?

  “Your steward Rochus came in. I wrapped the watch with a piece of paper so he wouldn’t see.”

  “Yes!” She punctuated the air with her hairpin, causing him to flinch. “Oh, my sweet nephew, you make me crazy sometimes.” She raised the rolltop desk and moved the lamp. When she next spoke, her voice was eerily placid. “You took a piece of paper from here?”

  “Yes. I thought the desk might have a key in it to the case.”

  “Of all my treasures, what I have in my desk is most precious.”

  He realized she was talking about the paper. “What was on that page?”

  She was smiling now as she tidied a stack of notes and paused to admire the one on top. It was a scribbled diagram or chart with labels. She showed it to him. There were so many notes running slapdash up and along the sides of the page that it made no sense. He could barely read her disorderly script. But as he peered closer he made out a few of the labels.

  Frog Room. Chamber of Riddles. Skeleton Ambush.

  What madness? What fiction was she writing? Not fiction—there were dimensions to the geometric shapes, and he understood then that these were rough blueprints, along with notes upon notes. But this couldn’t be the castle. Her white keep had no more room within its walls, unless she was planning to demolish it.

  He continued to study the page.

  Catacomb West Wing, the top of the page read.

  “It’s your games,” he said. “The rooms of the catacombs which you haven’t let me see.”

  She took his hand in hers. “You know this is my passion. But no one else gets to peek at this, not even you. Especially not even family. If the surprise is ruined, it will spoil the fun. This is for the next season. I have such plans. So much work to do. But if word of the expansion gets out, it could create an obstacle which might cause delay.”