Midnight Monster Club

by Gerhard Gehrke

  He realized he didn’t have a key. The townhouse was locked. He went around the side, trampling the flowerbed so he could get to the backyard. The small yard in the rear of the townhouse was little more than a gazebo with a pair of benches. But the back window was the easiest to reach.

  He paused for a moment to press on his forehead. The throbbing felt like it might be abating. Once he got his stash, he’d be on a boat within an hour.

  He didn’t remember a handcart in the yard. Perhaps the owner had been by. It smelled of dirt. The flowerbed had been recently planted. No doubt the owner had been busy sprucing up the place. Angel would have to avoid him too in order to skip out on the month’s rent.

  The window slid open with ease. Philip or one of the others must have been careless and left it unlocked. Small blessings. It was only after he climbed inside that he saw the latch lying on the floor of the dark back bedroom. It was as if someone had forced it open, causing the latch to pop out of the window frame.

  He hadn’t seen any of his other companions recuperating in the ward. Had Hector died in the catacombs? Perhaps Cy or Philip had escaped from the ogre and had needed to break in through the window. But then again, maybe Red Eye had sent a leg breaker to lie in wait.

  Leaving would be the best option. With his pounding head and other injuries, he was slow. But then he saw he was in Gavin’s room. Gavin had brought a pair of rapiers with him. He’d worn the nicer of the two into the catacombs. But the second one still leaned on the wall behind the bedroom door.

  Whatever thug was waiting for him was in for a surprise. The thought of sending Red Eye a reminder that Angel wasn’t so easily pushed around almost made the banging in his head bearable.

  He drew the blade and kept the stiff scabbard in his left hand. It would prove useful for parrying.

  He opened the door to the front room. A set of stairs went up to the main bedrooms. Here was a small kitchen, dining nook, and what had been his companions’ party room. It smelled of spilled wine and beer. More than a few bottles littered the floor along with food wrappers. A table was covered with cards and scraps of partially eaten apples, a dish of bean dip, popcorn, and half of a cake on a broken plate.

  Someone was sitting on one of the couches.

  Angel had been quiet but not that quiet. But the figure appeared not to notice.

  He raised his rapier. “Hey. Philip, is that you?”

  The person didn’t answer.

  “Who’s there? Speak up or get hurt!”

  When he got no response, he jabbed the tip of the sword into the person’s arm. The figure leaned and toppled over. Stepping cautiously forward, Angel looked down and saw a scarred-face thug he thought he recognized from Red Eye’s bar. But a chill ran through him as he realized the thug had fallen forward and yet his half-open, dull eyes were looking at the ceiling. His head had been twisted.

  Angel’s breath caught. He began to back up. Heard a floorboard creak. Turned, his instincts screaming. He raised the scabbard, but not in time. He was too slow to stop the flat blade of the shovel from smashing him in his already broken face and sending him to unconsciousness.

  Chapter Forty-Six

  DIGGER’S SHOULDER AND side were hurting too much to try and get Lord Angel out the back window. He wheeled the cart around to the front door. In went Lord Angel, and after a moment’s deliberation he also brought out the mystery goon and lifted him into the cart. Using a bedsheet, he draped both men.

  Lord Angel was tied with a curtain cord and had a rag stuffed into his mouth.

  What had seemed so obvious when he had left Monty at the cemetery was now gnawing at him.

  Lord Angel was the main driver behind the attempts to reclaim the lost watch. With him out of the way, the nobleman’s companions were all who remained who knew their faces. And the sheriff. He didn’t know what Hellard had done with two of the companions. At least one had died in the catacombs. Perhaps all of them were dead, but he thought Marisol had still been breathing. Taking out their leader might distract them long enough for him and Monty to slip out of the city.

  It still left the queen’s wrath. His current course would place him squarely as a target of her vengeance, if he wasn’t already there by spoiling her games. He didn’t believe for a moment that he, Isabel, and Monty would be forgotten.

  But Digger wasn’t the only one after Angel. Digger had been surprised by the man inside the townhouse and they had fought briefly. Isabel had been right. Angel had someone out to collect from him or kill him for skipping out on a debt.

  Leaving Lord Angel alive would make the situation worse, he decided. He had seen in the nobleman the kind of resolve he knew too well. This kind didn’t forgive or forget.

  The evening streets remained busy. Another night without curfew brought the citizens out. Yet with his newly acquired black hood taken from the assassin and his wagon and its repellent cargo, he moved through Diregloom like a specter.

  By the time he made the graveyard gate and East Hill, his body cried for sleep. His limbs ached. He paused to look through the quilt of fog at the crescent moon. He decided not to get a lantern. Best the sisters and Monty didn’t know he had returned. He made his way to the top of the cemetery. Found his spot.

  Luana – Died in Winter – Beloved Daughter of Ellen and Pablo.

  Did this poor girl, whoever she was, deserve such company? But what was Diregloom but a city of strange bedfellows?

  He thought little as he dug. His body was an automaton, doing what it did even as the fires within him had burned down to embers. To think was to allow the pain in. He’d rest when his brother was safe.

  In the cart, Lord Angel began writhing. His boots banged on wood. Digger climbed from the pit. He dragged the nobleman off the cart and dropped him on the ground. The man landed hard. His eyes were wide and pleading. Digger was about to go back to his work when he paused and crouched.

  “I have nothing for you. You have nothing you can offer me.”

  Angel screamed through his gag. Digger could make out the word “please.”

  “This isn’t what you expected,” Digger said softly. “But I won’t waste a lesson on you in your last moments. Think on who you are. Pray, if it helps. But damn you and your kind for bringing us here.”

  He gave Angel a minute of quiet before finishing him off with the knife taken from the gangster. Digger then stepped back into the grave and dug the last of the dirt out before pulling Angel’s body in. When he was done filling the pit he sat on the packed earth. Thought of his parents and how he had been too late to save them.

  He took a moment to walk to their grave. In the silence broken only by the steady crash of distant waves, he plucked the few weeds sprouting next to the wooden grave marker.

  Time for tears later. His work here finished, he headed down the hill to collect his brother.

  The moon was gone but so was the fog. The wash of stars above him was a million eyes that looked past him and his world to some unseen place he would never know. He gathered the pick and his shovel and threw them onto the cart.

  Lanterns were making their way among the white grave markers and headstones. At first he thought someone was looking for him, but then he saw a pair of gravediggers he knew bringing a cart to the communal grave. Another laborer was already at work, clearing the ground for the latest additions.

  The dead from the catacombs, no doubt.

  He avoided them as he returned his borrowed tools. He knocked on the cottage door. The sisters opened the door but said nothing. Their father, Xavier, was visible in the main room. Digger handed over a coin purse taken from the assassin. The one-eyed sister took the time to count each coin and then pocketed it without comment. Digger knew he had overpaid. Perhaps it would buy sealed lips for another day.

  Monty came out of the cottage. He wore a thin blanket that he bundled around himself. He appeared cold but walked steadily as Digger led him away from the cemetery.

  They were passing through the slums. By now th
e streets were empty. They had made the fel market and Violet Avenue when Monty stopped.

  Digger frowned. “Keep up.” When his brother didn’t move, he held a hand out.

  Monty took a step back. “No. Not until you tell me where we’re heading.”

  “We’re stealing a boat down at the waterfront and getting out of here before dawn.”

  “I’m not going.”

  Digger let out a sigh. He tried to take his brother by the wrist but Monty slapped his hand away.

  “I said I’m not going.”

  Looking around to see if anyone was nearby, Digger saw they were mercifully still alone. But voices carried in the small hours.

  “This isn’t a discussion. If you want to live, you do what I say.”

  “No. You want to find some hole to hide in, go ahead. But that’s not what I’m going to do.”

  Digger tried to sound calm but it was impossible. “And what are you going to do? We wouldn’t have gotten into this trouble if you hadn’t decided to flex your cooking chops and announce a poker game with gourmet catering.”

  “Don’t pin this all on me. Lord Angel trying to kill Isabel started all this. But we’ve been pardoned. Queen Claudia said so.”

  “Don’t believe for a second that’s going to save us.”

  His brother crossed his arms. “I’m going back to the Dragon. And to Sofia.”

  “Don’t you think that’s the first place they’ll look? Don’t be an idiot.”

  “I love her. And I have a life I want to live. It’s not enough just to hide. What’s the point? How many more years are you going to live alone in your little apartment?”

  “You don’t even know where I live.”

  “Yes I do. I asked around. It took months. You’re up on the fifth floor in the slums. You leave your cart where anyone can find it. Not as smart as you think.”

  Digger felt his face grow hot. He had done everything in his power to watch over his little brother, and now this? His voice trembled with irritation. “Go on then.”

  Monty hesitated. “Are you still leaving?”

  “What does it matter?”

  “Maybe it doesn’t, at least not to you. But why couldn’t you have visited? You tell me to hide and stay hidden and leave me a few coins to live on, but can’t be bothered to spend an hour with me? Don’t say it was to avoid being caught. I know there’s a sheriff looking for you, maybe both of us. But it’s been two years.”

  “There’s a new sheriff in Diregloom. The duke of Bahia hasn’t forgotten about what we did.”

  How could his brother not remember? The image was still burned in Digger’s mind. He had returned to Loom Island after running for weeks from whatever provosts the Duke had sent after him and any others of his ranger unit who had fled instead of submitting to arrest. Digger had been too late to stop his parents from losing their lives to the gallows. He had found Monty standing over the blood-soaked corpse of the restaurant buyer. He’d had to pry the chef’s knife from Monty’s hand. Digger had taken his brother from there and hidden him away. Then Digger had gone after the magister who had colluded with the pureblood restaurateur in obtaining the property and business for a pittance.

  His brother had always been fragile. But that night his spirit had shattered. Now hearing Monty stand up to him was both infuriating and a matter of bad timing.

  “They’re after you as much as me,” Digger said, fighting to keep his voice even. “And after hundreds of spectators got a good look at us, we can’t remain anonymous in this city. This sheriff isn’t stupid.”

  “But you don’t know if he knows. Maybe we’ll get lucky. I became someone different. It’s time for you to do the same. You know where you can find me.”

  As if that settled the matter, Monty marched past him, taking a street that would lead to the Temperance District and the Dragon and Rose.

  Chapter Forty-Seven

  DIGGER DIDN’T THINK he’d miss the infernal curfew bells. At least they told him how much time he had before dawn but now he could only guess.

  He had trailed his brother through the early morning streets and down the back alley towards the bar. Monty left the back door open when he entered. Digger remained outside.

  He could hear Lady Sofia shouting and then laughing and crying. He shut the door softly and paced the alley, considering his options.

  How long before the queen’s guards, another cousin of Lord Angel, or the sheriff showed up? Did Monty have the night or a week before his fantasy life came crashing down? He’d give his brother until dawn. Then he’d get him to the waterfront, dragging him kicking and screaming if he had to. They hadn’t survived this long just so Monty could cook a last meal with their parents’ recipes.

  The laughter inside only got louder. Deeper, too. Someone was inside the bar that wasn’t Lady Sofia or Monty.

  Digger entered, storming through the storeroom. He snatched an empty wine bottle by the neck and stepped into the bar ready to pounce.

  Hellard was sitting at a table with Lady Sofia and Monty. The ogre appeared naked at first, but then Digger realized he was wearing underpants. Each held a frothing cup. A mostly empty bottle of brown liquor sat between them. They paused to look at Digger and burst out laughing.

  Digger felt the stomach acid building. “What is going on?”

  Monty gestured vaguely across the table at the ogre. His green cheeks were flushed a reddish brown. “Sprat’s here.”

  “I can see that. Hellard, why are you here and why aren’t you wearing pants?”

  Lady Sofia tried to make a serious face but couldn’t stop smirking. “Because he stinks to high heaven.”

  Hellard set his cup down. “I slipped through the sewers to get out of the castle.”

  “Why were you in the castle?”

  “I was trying to get you guys out of there. I made it as far as the catacombs but there were too many guards.”

  Hellard grabbed a few walnuts from a bowl and cracked them open with his hands.

  The ogre ate noisily. Digger waited for him to stop, which took a moment. “So why did you come back here?”

  “Because we never finished our discussion. Maybe we can do that tomorrow morning. Which is almost now, isn’t it? Sofia, honey, you need a clock in this place.”

  Lady Sofia shook her head. “Nope. Seeing the time spoils the mood.”

  “Hellard, there’s nothing to discuss,” Digger said. “Monty and I have to go into hiding. Lady Sofia, I know you and Monty love each other. Come with us. It’s not safe for any of us in Diregloom.”

  Sofia took a swig. “This is my bar. I’m not abandoning it.”

  “We’re staying,” Monty said. “We talked about it while you were outside sulking.”

  Digger raised his arms in frustration. “So what are you going to do when the sheriff comes in here with a dozen men to arrest us all?”

  “Why would that even happen?” Monty asked. “He came here looking for Lord Angel’s companion. Lord Angel isn’t around anymore. You made sure of that, didn’t you?”

  The table grew somber, with the three looking down into their cups.

  Digger couldn’t believe what he had heard. “You told them?”

  “I’m right, aren’t I? You didn’t say you had anything to do with the magister and his guards, either. But I know you. You had the same look in your eyes then that you did when you dropped me off at the graveyard. But Sofia and Hellard are involved. We all are. Together.”

  A thumping came from somewhere beneath the floor. Hellard raised a finger to his lips. The thumping stopped.

  “What was that?” Digger asked.

  Hellard grunted. Sipped, but there was nothing left in his mug but a residue of suds. “I wasn’t alone when I left the castle.”

  Digger went behind the bar to the trapdoor. A young girl was curled up asleep on a blanket. On top of the door was a bag with sticks that reeked of fish. He started to raise the trapdoor.

  “I wouldn’t do that,” Hellard said
.

  “What’s down there?”

  “A surprise for anyone looking for us.”

  “Two surprises,” Monty added. “Trolls.” Then he started laughing.

  Sofia’s face soured. “You still haven’t explained how it is that those things aren’t going to climb up here and kill us.”

  Hellard refilled her cup from a pitcher and then his own. “Simple. We keep them fed.”

  “And you’re okay with this?” Digger asked Sofia.

  “No. But right now I’m drunk. At noontime if the lot of you are still here, we’re going to have a conversation. I’ll probably do some yelling.”

  The front door flew open.

  “I thought you locked that,” Sofia said.

  Monty gave her a guilty look. “I thought I did too.”

  A gray-cloaked figure stepped inside and slid the deadbolt closed. Digger was preparing to hurl the bottle when he saw Isabel remove her hood.

  “You’re here?” was all he could think to ask.

  “And you didn’t wait for me in the castle.”

  “We got out of there as quickly as we could.”

  “I noticed. I had to face the queen alone. Things got a bit crazy. Apparently both of Queen Claudia’s trolls went missing. It didn’t stop her from continuing with her party. There was a ceremony for the winners. She asked about you.”

  “And what does she know?”

  “That you’re a laborer who assaulted the sheriff. She doesn’t know what you do, exactly. But she was hoping to talk to you.”

  “About what?”

  “Coming back. Fighting in her games. She said she would offer you more money than you could hope to make in a lifetime of toil.”

  Digger set the bottle down on the bar.

  “So she has no idea I’m a gravedigger? What about Monty?”

  “She didn’t ask about him. As far as I can tell, she doesn’t care about him or me. It’s only Lord Angel who knows about us, and he’s recovering in the castle ward. Once he’s able to stand, he’ll cause problems. With Jamie here, his father won’t be pleased. Jamie was recognized by more than a few people at the awards ceremony. Word will make it back to the mainland. But Angel is the one we’ll have to watch out for. He won’t forget.”