The Death Dealer - The Complete Series

by Katie Roman

  She bit her lower lip at the suggestion and his smile hastened into a frown. “I am exhausted. You must be, too,” she said quietly.

  She tugged at her sleeve without thinking. She imagined her clothing would rebel and roll up on its own accord, revealing the linen underneath; irrefutable, glaring proof of the lie she lived in.

  “I wouldn’t insult you by claiming not to be, so I’ll leave you to enjoy a peaceful evening here.” He moved forward to embrace her. It wasn’t something that shocked her, but she backed up a step as though it did. Don’t be muddled, she told herself firmly.

  “Have I upset you in some way?” he inquired.

  “No, of course you haven’t. I suppose I’m just on edge with all the tension around the city.” She leaned forward and presented her cheek. Confused but slightly mollified, Nathaniel gave her a chaste peck.

  He left looking sullen. Not for the first time, Grace was reminded of how it was a miracle she managed to survive as she did. Without the executioner’s hood on she could be a fumbling, reckless mess. Things somehow managed to be vastly different when she slipped out at night. She shook her head clear of the awkward moment.

  Crossing the room to her desk, she began to root around in the drawer. Under letters from home, she caught the glint of gold. The necklace was of a winged star, the symbol of Diggery. There was no doubt in her mind that the dream from that afternoon was a gift from the goddess. It was appropriate to wear her symbol out tonight.

  The chain was a knotted mess, so Grace sat on the floor and set to work untangling it while she waited for Jack to come back. The necklace had been a gift from him the year before. When she found the letter he wrote that told of his leaving, she threw the necklace out of the window. Kit had retrieved it, insisting it was bad luck to punish the gods for the folly of man. Ever since, the necklace had been unceremoniously stuffed in the drawer; a lurking reminder of something Grace wanted to forget.

  Don’t let this muddle up your mind, she admonished herself when the feelings of hurt and betrayal bubbled up. It was over now and there was no reason to fight with Jack tonight. They could come to blows about his reckless abandonment after the business of Harris Atkins was settled.

  When Jack returned, the last of the knots was almost undone. He didn’t bother to knock; instead just let himself in. He had a loaf of bread and a small wheel of goat cheese. “Dinner,” he said, and held them up as evidence. He sat in the chair at her desk, cutting off slices of bread for them. “How are you feeling?”

  “Alright.” Grace worked out the knot and put the necklace on the desk. Jack looked at it with a certain gleam of satisfaction in his eye. “Any word on the street?”

  “Sergeant Moore didn’t say anything?”

  “No.”

  Jack passed her a slice of bread with a generous amount of cheese on it. She bit into it, happy to find it sweetened with honey, her favorite. “The captain of the Golden Road guardhouse sent for aid from the King’s army,” Jack started. “It mustn’t be a very big secret, because I overheard two guards discussing it at the bakery.”

  “That’s bad. Does Marcus know?” Jack cocked an eyebrow at her. “Of course he knows,” she corrected herself.

  “I know you have a single-minded goal of finding Harris, but I think you need to know that it won’t stop anything. You may succeed in having Ridley released from the lockup; however, this has gone well beyond just finding Harris. Sergeant Moore started something by rallying the Guard. And that Captain Ericson? This is just the opportunity he’s been waiting for.”

  “How did he do it? How did Nathaniel garner this much support so quickly?”

  The only answer she got was a noncommittal shrug. “You should have asked him yourself. Maybe Taylor was just the push they needed.”

  Grace fiddled with the necklace, letting the chain run through her fingers. Jack, tired of watching her unease, took her hands in his; the chain pressing hard into her skin. “Before I let you leave here, I need to know what you hope to accomplish. Harris isn’t worth the effort you’ve put into this.”

  “I told you. I’m trying to fix what I’ve done.”

  The hands that held Grace’s were warm, comforting, and a bit callused. “You didn’t kill Adam. If anyone did, it was Harris with his behavior.”

  “I set out to protect people, and maybe scare a few who saw fit to do harm. Not stand by while a man faces torture and death, not when he can still atone for what he’s done.”

  From the day he first met Grace, Jack knew she would latch onto something and pursue it with the single mindedness of a bloodhound with a scent. In that way she was very much like Sergeant Moore. It was no wonder they got on so well. They weren’t so far removed. But Moore had allies, brothers in arms. Grace stood alone on a precipice. It was an irksome superiority he saw in her when they first met, but now it was a terrifying prospect for them both. This was a fight that, deep in her heart, she knew she could never truly win.

  Jack released her hands and opened his arms to her. She didn’t move from her standing position, so he wrapped his arms around her waist and tilted her head downwards to look at his face. “What will you do if Harris doesn’t want to repent?”

  The thought was one that had never entered her mind. He could see it clearly as her face darkened, her brow furrowed, and she bit her lip thinking about it. “Then there’s nothing I can do.”

  “He ran the last time you encountered him alone. I want to go with you tonight to help.”

  Jack knew it was very important to word things carefully with Grace. Her pride was important to her. She wanted to remain fiercely independent, and she didn’t want help if she thought someone was second-guessing her abilities. Saying, “I want to help you” was safer than saying, “I want to protect you”. She knew what he meant, however, and she appreciated the effort he made to spare her all-too-fragile pride.

  She rested her hands on his shoulders. “Be at hand and I will call you when I need you.”

  Fifteen

  Grace went to sleep for a few hours, or at least she tried to. She tossed and turned, escaping bad dreams that she couldn’t remember when she woke. Jack finally got her up after the hour was called for midnight. She lit a candle and readied herself. Jack had put her Death Dealer garb on the desk for her while she slept.

  They had moved beyond the point of modesty and, though she wasn’t embarrassed by changing before him, the idea of sharing the intimacy of such a commonplace activity didn’t feel right yet.

  “Cover your eyes.”

  “If you insist,” he sighed. Jack faced the wall. “You only have a few hours before dawn. Marcus will be up tonight gathering a force.”

  “I know.” Grace put on trousers under her dress. “I’m going to make a stop to see him first.”

  “Is that really wise? He isn’t exactly pleased with you.”

  “And I’m not pleased with him.” She pulled her dress up over her head and ran a hand over her hair to smooth it back down. She bound her breasts and slipped into her shirt.

  “It’s too dangerous for you to go there alone.”

  “Glad you think so. I need you to go with me. I’ll explain why on the way.”

  “Oh, good.” The sarcasm in his voice cut through the air like a knife.

  Grace looked over at Jack to see his arms move up to cross over his chest. Let him be angry about it, she thought.

  “You can turn around now.”

  She picked up her leather jerkin. It felt unbelievably heavy in her hands tonight. Still, she put it on and allowed Jack to straighten it, and then she tucked her hair into her shirt. It kept the noticeable bump of a bun or ponytail from showing under the hood, but it made everything hot and itchy. She wiggled in her garb, unable to do anything but live with the discomfort. She tucked her knives into her belt, including a fine dagger. It had a dragon head hilt with rubies set as the eyes and script etched into the blade. Jack had given it to her shortly after they met. It was the first dagger she trained with
, and it felt the most natural in her hand. She’d need all the help she could get against the superior fighting skills of Harris.

  Under all the layers of black, there was the unmistakable glint of gold. Grace touched the necklace, comforted by her patron goddess’s symbol. “Do you think you’ll be able to make it to Marcus undetected?” Jack asked cautiously.

  “I can take the alleys after I explain my plan, and then I’ll meet you at his home. He’ll be there making his plans, since Jim barred him from the Angel.” She grabbed the hood, ready to put it on, when Jack held her hand on the desk.

  His free hand wrapped around her waist and pulled her to him. He pressed his lips against hers and she let her free hand touch his face, glad to have him in her confidence. Glad to have him helping. He broke the kiss, but the feel of it lingered on her lips.

  “I couldn’t let you go just yet.” Now he took her hood and gently placed it over her head, straightening it so only her eyes were visible. He took her face in his hands and kissed the forehead of the mask. She felt the heat of his lips through the fabric.

  “We’ll sneak out the back and discuss,” she finally said. She couldn’t wait any longer. Still, she hugged him quickly before they left.

  ~*~*~

  Marcus already had things in motion. It had been many long years since anyone dared to challenge the Thieves’ Guild, and he wouldn’t be unseated by some righteous brat. At dawn they’d swarm the Serenity Place guardhouse, and the next move would be up to the guards. He stayed awake long into the night, thinking.

  He wasn’t too startled by the knock at his door, as his men had been coming and going all night. But seeing Jack Anders there was a surprise. At one time he was ready to gut the man for the pain he caused Grace, but now with Grace the way she was, he no longer cared. Still, he stepped outside rather than let the man into his house.

  “Master Anders, to what do I owe this unscheduled visit?”

  “I’m not deaf to the things that happen in this city. I suppose you know about the call for help from the King’s army?”

  “I believe it’s merely a bluff of the Guard, but I am very much aware. Have you only come to give me common knowledge?”

  “No, I came to help a friend.”

  Grace might have been a cat in a past life. She didn’t make any sound as she dropped onto Marcus before he could fully react to what Jack said. With the handle of her dagger, she hit him in the back of the head. He went down face first, landing near Jack’s feet.

  She bent down and rolled him over with some effort. “He’s alive.”

  “Then let’s run before Thom comes to investigate.” They weren’t sure Thom was there, but wherever Marcus was, Thom was normally close at hand.

  If nothing else prompted Marcus to say Grace had broken her oath to him, this certainly would. The bump on his head wouldn’t stop Marcus but it would slow him down a bit, which was what was intended. It would give Grace time to get to Harris and make his public capture, thereby guaranteeing Ridley’s release and slowing the descent into chaos. That was her plan, at least.

  Grace again took to the alleys, running along back to the docks. Jack moved at a slower pace, working to not arouse any suspicion. He knew where she was bound. They would meet there soon enough.

  ~*~*~

  Grace’s progress was halted as she cut through the city to the docks. She saw a few unsavory men lurking about, but that didn’t come as a shock to her. A summons had gone out to all corners to bring men to Marcus’s aid, although there hadn’t been a call for the army in ages. What did surprise her was Captain Ericson. He stood alone, at the entrance to the alley she was trying to leave. He was waiting for her.

  “I had a man posted by Marcus’s,” he said, explaining himself before Grace had to ask.

  Stupid girl, she cursed herself silently. The Guard already knew there was going to be trouble. Why didn’t it occur to her that they’d have a man watching Marcus?

  “You dropped your ally, and yet you ran from our meeting.”

  “I don’t make it a habit of being thrown into a cell. You were going to lock me up unless I agreed to help you.”

  Ericson chuckled, and for the first time Grace noticed the sword he held. The steel caught the lamplight behind him when he shifted his position. She realized it was a mistake to have left hers at Jack’s. Ericson wouldn’t stand a chance if she carried a sword, but at the moment she was armed with only knives. She could throw them and lose valuable weapons, or she could try to duel with them. Either way did not entice her.

  “This isn’t a fair fight, captain,” she remarked.

  The third option was to run back the way she came, but she’d been followed this far. There could already be someone lying in wait to catch her retreating.

  “It doesn’t have to be a fight,” he said.

  “No, it doesn’t. Neither does this business with Marcus.”

  “You can’t possibly be siding with him!” Ericson laughed without humor. “You dropped the scoundrel on his doorstep!”

  The captain took a few steps forward and Grace took a few back. No one had come up to block her retreat yet, so the option was still somewhat open.

  “I’m not siding with anyone. I’m trying to stop the madness you foolish, prideful men put into motion.”

  Ericson advanced faster now. Instead of step once, stop, he took three steps before a brief, very brief pause.

  “I can’t let you obstruct justice,” he said, making his third step-stop. He was close enough now that if he chose to thrust with his sword, he could slice her clothes. Grace hadn’t moved an inch. She didn't want him to have the satisfaction of knowing she was afraid.

  “Do you plan to kill me?”

  “The Death Dealer won’t die. No, too many people look up to that hood. I won’t suffer a Dealer who isn’t on my side, though.” Ericson stayed in position, unmoving. “The people respond to the Dealer; respond to the idea that someone watches over them when the Guard and the King do not. No, I will not kill the Death Dealer, but you, on the other hand, are disposable.”

  Grace saw then that he’d construct his own Death Dealer. He would take a young, fit guard and force it on him. Grace was faceless to him. What use was she? She wouldn’t even bend a little to his rules.

  “I don’t want anyone to be hurt,” she said, suddenly breathless. Ericson was too close. “You both can’t have Harris.”

  Ericson wanted a safe city. While the ideal meant good things for Glenbard, the problem was that he meant to sacrifice lives and create chaos to bring about that order. In his eyes, there could be no peace without blood.

  “You’re a smart man,” she said and finally took a step back. “But why do you feel the need to wipe out and sacrifice men to have what you want? Work with the Guild to bring in Harris.”

  He laughed again, the same mirthless laugh as before, and Grace knew they were done with the talking portion of the evening. She jumped back a step. Knowing he couldn’t allow her to escape, he lunged toward her. Grace used the opportunity to rush forward, and she was able to catch him under the sword arm. Using all her weight and momentum, she drove herself into his midsection, one arm firmly in the armpit of his sword arm.

  She landed on top of him and the sword fell with a thud some feet away. He flailed about. Grace got off of him, making sure to step hard across his wrist as she went. She bent quickly to grab his sword while he lurched upwards.

  “Come back here!” he roared. The whistle all guards carried to signal trouble trilled loudly behind her.

  She bolted out of the alley where four guardsmen already waited; five, if Ericson was to be counted among them. Stupid! her mind scolded. She should have run back the way she came. The only upside for her was the sword she now had.

  She could never hope to fight them all. They advanced fast, closing a circle around her. The lamplight didn’t make things any easier to see, and her hood provided her with plenty of blind spots.

  Two of the guards were heavier, rou
nd from good food, while the other two were leaner with long legs. She charged the two fat guards. She used her elbow to smack the first one in the face and drove the pommel of the sword into the second one’s gut. She didn’t stop to assess the damage. They’d live; they might just be winded and maybe suffer a broken nose as a result.

  Grace ran on with screams of pursuit and whistles following her.

  ~*~*~

  Marcus came to on the floor of the kitchen. A very concerned looking Thom had put his head on a pillow. Anger filled the king’s limbs. “Damn him!”

  He tried to get up but Thom pushed him back down. “What happened?” His cool fingers brushed against Marcus's forehead, providing momentary relief from the ache.

  “I was out rallying the men, and when I came back you were out cold on the floor.”

  “Let me up, fool!” Marcus said angrily and pushed away from his man. His head ached, and when he felt around his skull he came across a good sized bump. It wasn’t an open wound, but it would smart for a while. “Anders…he tricked me.”

  Marcus got to his feet and sat down in a kitchen chair. As he was getting settled, Thom poured him some tea. “That little minx was waiting to strike me down while Anders distracted me. How long have I been out?”

  “I just arrived about fifteen minutes ago, so I can’t say how long you were there.”

  “What hour did the guard last call?”

  “Two.”

  Damn that girl! Marcus was unconscious for far too long. Grace had wanted to slow his progress and she did a fair job of it, too. “How do things fare in the rest of the city?”

  “Shaky. The men think the Death Dealer will side with the guards. Some will need you to coax them gently into action.” Thom smiled at his joke. “But I don’t think you should rouse yourself without seeing a healer.”

  Marcus could have screamed until the fury subsided, if he thought it would ever subside. Grace! She was against him from the beginning of this whole mess.

  Old Wulfric burst into the house. Remembering belatedly that this was his professed king, he bowed to Marcus. His face was covered in sweat and his shirt was open, revealing the sweaty, hair-covered chest and belly beneath.