David Dalglish - A Dance of Shadows

“Miss,” the barkeep said. “Please, you should go…”

“No men here to buy a whore,” Percy said, glancing back and seeing her. “That’s what we got Joanna for. Go on your way.”

The woman stepped around the two mutilated bodies, seeming unfazed by them. Carson narrowed his eyes, and then he began to laugh.

“My, my,” he said. “I think we’ve found our Widow.”

The woman did not sit at their table, but the one beside it, as if uncomfortable with their presence. She kept her hair low over her face, and when she talked, it was in a strained whisper that Carson had to struggle to hear.

“Laerek said I could find you here,” she said.

“Well, that’s the first thing Laerek’s been right about so far,” Percy said, but he was the only one to laugh.

“The city seems to know you well,” Nora said. Carson could tell his wife was examining her closely, trying to reach an opinion of some sort. He trusted her ability to read someone, and when their talk was done, he’d listen well to what she had to say. “Yet I wonder why. All you’ve done is kill a few members of a guild. Others do it all the time. Why are you so special to Laerek, or to us?”

“People die all the time,” the strange woman said. “I give the city something to remember, to both fear and enjoy.”

“What’s your real name?” Carson asked, putting aside his pipe.

“I’m the Widow, of course, and that is the only name I will tell you.”

The woman smiled, and something about it unsettled Carson’s stomach. He shifted in his seat, and his hand reached for the sword strapped to his belt.

“Keep your secrets, then,” Nora said. “But why are you here? What business do you have with us?”

“I’m here to help you,” she said.

Percy laughed, and even Carson had to fight to keep down a chuckle. “Is that so?” he asked. “Who are you to help us ? And help us do what, exactly?”

“I know this city,” the Widow said. “Know it far better than you. I’ve seen its gross underbelly, know its scabs and scars. If you want, I can draw the Watcher out. You’ll have a clean shot, all of you. All I ask is that you do me a favor as well.”

“And what is that?” Carson asked.

“Kill Lord Victor Kane at the same time. They’ll be together, and vulnerable. All you need to do is… well, do what your kind does best.”

Carson looked to the other two. Nora’s nod showed that her gut told her the Widow was to be believed. Percy merely shrugged. “It’s either the Watcher, or finishing off the Ash,” he said. “We need to stick together no matter who we go after.”

Carson nodded, but Percy’s remark about trusting no one still echoed in his head. He looked to this strange, nameless woman, then gestured for her to continue.

“Go ahead,” he said. “Let’s hear your plan.”

When she was done, and Carson had agreed to the plan, he ushered away the Widow, who left without a word. The four Bloodcrafts looked to one another, waiting for the first to speak.

“Well,” Percy said at last. “To say it’s a gamble is to be kind.”

“A gamble in our favor, though,” Nora said. “And though she is steeped in dishonesty, I believe that she believes in her plan.”

“So we throw in with the gamble,” said Carson, leaning forward toward Joanna. “But that doesn’t mean we can’t adjust things even more in our favor.”

Joanna swirled her finger along the top of her cup. “What are you thinking?” she asked him.

“I’m thinking,” he said, grinning, “that two traps might be better than one. How would you like a shot at the Watcher with those pretty little daggers of yours?”

Her blue eyes flicked upward at last, and he saw hunger sparkle in her irises.

“I’d like that,” she said. “I’d like that very much.”

The first night was terrible, but Nathaniel managed. Several times he woke up thinking he’d heard a noise, or that he’d seen movement in the shadows.

“Zusa?” he called out each time, squinting to see. Always nothing, but he couldn’t help but think monsters lurked within the dark corners of his room. Normally he told himself it was Zusa, but this time he knew it wasn’t. She’d left. Somehow, by the way his mother had kissed him good night, he knew she was gone. The night crawled along, until at long last daylight met his tired eyes.

The day came and went, Nathaniel sleepwalking through most of it. At one point he fell asleep at the table, his uneaten food beside his face. One of the servant women scolded him harshly for that, and he was able to offer only the most meager of apologies. All the while he waited for Zusa’s return. And waited. The servants whispered of how the previous night had been far safer, and that Victor was winning over the city. Nathaniel knew this should have made his mother happier, but it did not.

Night came again, and Zusa still hadn’t returned. Nathaniel once more tried to sleep alone in his room, but this time he heard monsters scratching inside the walls, and every shadow bore a blade. He squeezed his eyes shut and pushed his face into a pillow, but then they were all around him, stepping closer, mouths drooling, claws reaching. Zusa wasn’t there to protect him. His mother’s guards weren’t about to rescue him. It took all his courage to pull down his blankets and look, and no matter how many times he saw his room empty, he knew without a doubt they were there.

At last he got up and left. He felt like a thief sneaking through the dark halls, but at each corner stood a house guard, looking somber and dangerous in the lantern light. They watched him as he passed, and it made his skin crawl. At his mother’s room, he stopped and gently pushed open the door with his arm.

“Mother?” he called out. Then louder, “Mother?”

“I’m here, Nathan,” she said, and he saw a feminine form lean up from the pillows.

Nathaniel curled his shoulders together, and he grabbed his stump with his other hand, as if he were cold.

“I’m scared,” he said. The question within was implicit, and his mother heard it well.

“Come here,” she said. “The bed’s big enough.”

He climbed up and then crawled forward until he reached the top. His mother’s arms wrapped about him as he curled against her and laid his head on a pillow. Immediately he felt his fears ebbing, and his exhaustion clawed at him with pent-up fury.

“Getting too big for this,” Alyssa said as she moved to give him room.

“I’m sorry.”

She kissed the back of his neck to show she wasn’t angry. Nathaniel shifted and slid his legs underneath the blanket.

“Mom… when is Zusa coming back?”

For a long while she did not answer.

“I don’t know,” she said at last. Nathaniel closed his eyes, glad to be safe from the monsters, glad that he could rest. Still, the question nagged at him.

“She is coming back, isn’t she?” he asked.

An even longer pause. His mother sniffed, and he realized she was crying. It made his stomach queasy, and he pulled himself into a tighter ball to fight the uncomfortable feeling growing in his chest.

“I hope so,” his mother said. He felt her fingers brush against his face, lovingly touching his features with her fingertips. “Gods, I hope so.”

He didn’t know what to say, but he wanted to comfort her. He wanted to make her feel better.

“I hope so too,” he said.

He closed his eyes and slept. Come the morning, he awoke to find himself alone in the bed. Feeling embarrassed, he slid out from the blankets and hurried back to his room to change. On his way there, he passed by his grandmother’s room. The door was cracked open, and he heard voices from within. The past two nights had left him wary, and something about the hushed tones made him slow. Pressing against the wall, he peered inside to see Lord Gandrem talking with his grandmother. Melody sat on the bed, and he could just barely see her hands as they gestured along with her words. John stood before her, arms crossed. His face was turned away, so Nathaniel could not read his expression.