David Dalglish - A Dance Of Death

Madelyn crushed the bag in shaking hands, and she heard the sound of crinkling leaves.

“All three of you deserve nothing but the noose,” she said. “One day, my husband will see that.”

Alyssa slammed the door shut in her face.

At first Madelyn wanted to find Tori and hold her to her chest, to cry out all her anger and frustration, but she knew she could not. Not yet. Despite his subtle request for privacy, Madelyn went to their room. It was dark inside, heavy curtains blotting out the little light given off by the setting sun. Laurie lay half-naked across the bed, staring up at the ceiling. He didn’t look at her when he spoke.

“I wish to be alone.”

“I know.”

Her dress fell to the floor. When she climbed into the bed, he tried to resist. She grabbed his wrists, pressed her mouth to his, and straddled him, ending the protest. She let the fire within her take over, riding out her fury as her husband moaned. When he climaxed, she lay atop him, her lips beside his ear.

“We’re losing control,” she whispered in the dark.

“I know.”

“How did it happen? You were feared among even the Trifect. Your cruelty was legendary.”

“Seven long years happened. I never enjoyed it, and here in Angelport, I thought the fear unnecessary. You know that.”

She nestled closer to him, resting a hand atop his chest.

“Your cruelty was a tool, and we need it back. Everyone is against us: Ingram, the Merchant Lords, the elves, that murderous Wraith; even Alyssa. We can’t trust them, not any of them. We were meant to rule. You were meant to rule. Can you not do so?”

Laurie sighed, and she could tell he was staring at the ceiling, searching through his thoughts for the right words to say. That alone told her she wouldn’t like what she would hear.

“Alyssa is one of the few left we can trust, Madelyn. And the elves are helping us, just as we are helping them. Did you not know?”

Madelyn felt her blood run cold.

“We help the elves? How?”

“Alyssa helped pay, but I secured places for the elves to stay within the city. We need their aid in stopping the Violet from spreading across Dezrel. If the merchants ever gained access to their forests, and start growing it in crops…”

Madelyn felt a chill run through her as she thought of what Ingram would do if he ever discovered their involvement. She thought to challenge Laurie over this, but then bit her tongue. Her hand reached under her pillow, to where she kept her dagger.

“You’re not the man I married,” she said.

“I suppose not, but neither are you the wife I once knew.”

She plunged the dagger into his throat. He caught her wrists when it was an inch in, blood pooling about the tip. His neck tightened, and his eyes flared wide as he fought against her.

“Just stop,” Madelyn said as she flung all her weight into the thrust. Tears ran down her face. “Please, stop, just stop, just let it go.”

The tip sank further in. He tried to scream, but all he could do was let out a quiet gurgle as he choked. He shifted his weight, but if there was any part of her stronger than her husband, it was her thighs, and she straddled him as she had only moments ago. His whole body began to shake violently. His eyes met hers, and she refused to look away despite the horror she saw. Despite the betrayal.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered as his strength faded, and he could no longer stop the blade from sinking another inch. Her lips brushed his ear as blood smeared across her bare breasts. “But you aren’t strong enough to save us. Tori needs better. I need better.”

She stabbed again and again, turning and shredding flesh. I do this for Taras, she thought. I do this for his child. When her dagger revealed bone, she finally stopped. All at once, it seemed the room was painfully quiet. Only her breath broke the silence, that and the soft patter of blood dripping from the drenched sheets to the floor. Madelyn felt something lurking heavy above her, like an animal ready to pounce, but she could not relent. She had to be strong, stronger than Laurie had ever been. Steeling herself, she took the dagger, knelt on the floor, and began to draw.

Taras, she thought, even as she scrawled the symbol left by his killer. For you, Taras.

It wasn’t hard, the drawing. It’d only been burned into her memory, only haunted her eyes every time she looked to the little baby girl left in her care.

Compared to that, tearing Laurie’s body to pieces was a simple but tiresome measure, especially with only a dagger to do the cutting. It had to match, she thought. Had to be perfect. Everything felt detached, her own actions that of a stranger. Was it really her twisting and pulling until an elbow joint snapped, and the bloody flesh tore free? Was it really her jamming a dagger into her husband’s eye sockets? The tears running down her face, dripping into the innards spilling across the carpet, were the only thing that convinced her she was still human.

At last she stood in the center of the room, her naked body hopelessly stained red, her arms coated up to the elbow with gore. The hours had passed, each one threatening to crush her completely. The heavy weight felt closer, more dangerous. It clung to her shoulders, dragged at her arms, and threatened to tear away her eyelids so she’d see everything she’d done in that horrible room. That detached feeling was gone, though she wished for it to return. Yes, it was her husband that lay before her.

Not done yet, she thought as panic clawed her throat. She slid underneath their bed, stabbed a hole into the feather mattress, and then shoved the dagger inside. In the darkness, she could barely see but for the dim glow of a single lamp she’d lit. Removing it from its hook upon the wall, she set it on the ground so its light would spread underneath the bed. Dipping her hands in her wash basin to clean them, she retrieved a needle and some thread from their closet, crawled underneath, and began the painstaking process of sewing the mattress shut.

No one could know. No one could ever know.

With that done, she put everything away. Taking her husband’s sword from the decorative crest above their dresser, she clutched the scabbard and breathed in deep. With three hits she smashed open a window, then put the sword back it in its place. At last, she was free. At last, she could invite the torment in, let the realization of what she’d done consume her like a brutal fire. Again and again she screamed, letting free every bit of her grief, fury, and loss.

In moments, the door burst open.

“He said he’d kill me if I made a noise,” Madelyn sobbed, Laurie’s horrific corpse held lovingly in her naked arms. “He said…he said…”

Her wail echoed throughout the mansion as guards poured in, once more baffled and furious at their inability to stop the Wraith from killing.

The captain’s quarters of the Ravenshade were even smaller than on the Fireheart, but they still had a bed, which was good enough for Darrel. Light streamed in as the whores opened the door to leave. Instead of shutting, and leaving him in blessed silence, the door pushed wide, and in stepped Lord Ulrich Blackwater.

“Least you waited until I was finished this time,” Darrel muttered.

“Two?” Ulrich asked, glancing behind him.

“Been a rough few days. Thought I deserved the indulgence.”

Ulrich chuckled.

“What’s so funny?” Darrel asked. “You think I can’t handle two women?”

“I’m amused you know the word indulgence.”

The captain grinned.

“Ulrich, if there’s ever a word I’m good friends with in this ugly world, it’s that one.”