The Death Dealer - The Complete Series Read online

  Hammer, Mac’s ill-tempered horse, and Mac had just returned from an early morning ride. Mac handed the reins over to Grace. “He needs looking after.”

  Mayhew had gone in for an early lunch and Grace hated the idea of looking after Hammer. Mayhew usually did it these days because he didn’t want Grace getting wounded again. Now it would have to be Grace who unsaddled and brushed down the stallion. She wanted to stall for time, but it didn’t seem to be a possibility.

  Mac stood by and watched as Grace went into the stall where Hammer was waiting for her to unhook the bridle. Grace looked around for a sympathetic face, but the only one she found was Pilgrim’s. The gelding was often tortured by nipping from Hammer and he fully understood what Grace was feeling.

  As she reached out for the bridle, Hammer neighed furiously and snapped at her. Grace drew her hands back and stepped against the stall door. “My horse needs looking after now.” Grace heard a mocking fury behind Mac’s words, even though she couldn’t see his expression.

  “Sir, your horse hates me. Perhaps it would be best if I went to fetch Master Mayhew.”

  Grace reached behind her and felt for the door to push it open and get out of the stall. Mac grabbed her by the wrist and spun her around. “You do it!” His breath reeked of whiskey and his pupils danced; a clear sign he’d been drinking too much. Perhaps this early morning ride was just him returning after a night-long bender.

  Mac let her go and pushed her backward toward Hammer.

  Grace sucked up her courage. She had already survived worse things in the world than an angry horse. Still, she reached up with shaking hands and reached once more for the bridle. Hammer snorted and stamped his hoof, and she closed her eyes and somehow managed to get the bridle off without the beast snapping at her. Pilgrim twitched nervously in his stall and looked past Grace and Mac to the door that led into the Angel. He whinnied and hung his head.

  “Now the saddle.”

  “Please sir, let me get Mayhew. He is much better at taming your horse than I.”

  “I told you to do it.” Grace moved to exit, but Mac closed the stall door on Grace and held it. “Or is the little noble girl afraid of a stallion? You used to geldings up at court?” The way Mac sneered, she knew he wasn’t talking about his horse so much as himself.

  Sighing but determined, she moved around Hammer and tried to unhook his saddle. The horse snorted and snapped at Grace’s fingers, almost getting a hold of one. She pushed herself against the wall and felt her heart banging inside her chest. She looked over at Mac and met his glaring eyes. “Please, sir.”

  “Afraid of his teeth, are you? Here’s somethin’ to be afraid of.” Mac whistled a high trill; the same that Calvin used to call the hounds in.

  The stallion’s ears flattened and he went mad at the noise; kicking angrily at the door and swinging his head back and forth. He kicked out his back hooves angrily and neighed loudly. It was all too close for comfort. Mac whistled again and Hammer continued his protest to the noise.

  “Try to unsaddle him now!” Mac said with a laugh. Grace was as scared of that laugh as she was of the maddened beast.

  Pilgrim neighed loudly in protest, as did a few other horses. Grace was afraid to turn her back on the raging Hammer, but she was even more terrified not to. She quickly turned and found a foothold in the wood of the wall and flung herself over into Pilgrim’s stall. The wall was about five feet in height, and she landed on her right knee in something that hadn’t yet been mucked out.

  Springing to her feet, she glared at Mac. “You could have gotten me killed!”

  She left Pilgrim’s stall and stood before Mac. Although Grace was much smaller in comparison, she puffed out her chest and drew her shoulders back. Mac simply looked down at her and laughed. Angry at what he had done and hurt by the laugh, Grace drew a fist and hauled off and stopped Mac’s laugh with one punch.

  Clearly the hit was harder than he expected from her. She caught him right in the nose and a few droplets of blood trickled down onto his lips. She went in for another punch, but Mac caught her fist this time. He twisted it behind her back, but Grace refused to cry out in pain. If she didn’t do something, she knew he would break it. Grace kept her glaring eyes on him, though; fighting back the tears and the scream. While he was distracted with making her cry, she used her free fist to hit his temple. Mac stumbled a little.

  “Trying to be brave?” Mac released her and took a more direct road to making Grace hurt. She couldn’t react in time to avoid Mac’s fist as it made contact with her face. She remembered seeing it come at her and then she remembered the blood rushing down her face. Still, she refused to cry out. Pilgrim did that for her. The gelding was kicking his stall door to get at Mac.

  The man threw her into the wall opposite Hammer’s stall and held her there with one hand on her throat while the other hand worked to deflect her slaps and punches. He closed the gap between their bodies; the stink of his breath burning her nose, mixing with the smell of blood.

  “You’ve a job to do. Take care of my horse or your final moments on this earth will consist of you struggling to breathe.” She continued to beat her hands against him.

  “It’s not polite to strike a lady,” Jack’s calm voice came from the door to the Angel’s common room. He always seemed to appear without making any noise.

  “I know you loner, and this is none of your concern. I’m simply disciplining Mayhew’s stable wench.” Mac stopped and removed his hand from Grace’s throat.

  “Disciplining her in what? The proper care of a mad horse owned by a drunken thief who would disrespect a young woman and put her in danger?” Jack retorted, and Mac snarled.

  “Jack.” Grace held her bleeding nose and staggered forward. “I can handle him.” She couldn’t let Mac best her again, and with her eyes she pleaded with Jack to understand. She was finally free of Mac’s grip, and if she made a move now, Mac would be unprepared.

  Jack knew what Grace was doing. She told him one morning over breakfast she planned to get Mac and beat him. She said it was because she thought he was going to kill Marcus, but Jack knew it was more than that. She wanted revenge for the wound Mac had given her. However, Grace knew Jack had little faith in her. Mac was huge, drunk and angry. Trained as he was in self-defense, Jack didn’t even know if he could best Mac. He was considered tall, but Mac was at least a head larger than he, with solid muscle packed in his body. There was no hope of Grace beating him, especially in a fist fight. Part of her knew it, but she was determined to try.

  “Shut up, girl!” Mac prepared to reach for Grace again, but Jack threw all his weight into a tackle.

  The two rolled around on the floor. The smart thing would have been for Grace to run and get help, but she didn’t want to seem weak in the eyes of anyone. Those who still distrusted her would see this as her attempt to throw punishment on one of their own, though Mac had tried to kill her with his horse. Instead, Grace took up a bucket of water and threw it on the two wrestling men.

  They stopped and Mac was the first to his feet. Grace was armed with the empty bucket, ready at any moment to hit him with it. He cast his eyes back to Jack. “I’ll get you soon enough, Mad Dog Anders! You and this wench you bed.” And he stormed out of the stables.

  Jack was instantly at Grace’s side. “Have you lost what little bit of sense you have left? He could have killed you, and for some reason you were stupidly content to let that happen!”

  “I can take care of myself!” Grace caught Jack in the stomach with the bucket and stated, “I have work to finish.” Jack didn’t budge, so she screamed, “Get out!”

  ~*~*~

  Mayhew returned to find a bruised and bloody-faced Grace. She explained that Mac’s horse had gone mad, but she left out the rest of the details of the story. She sat alone, eating dinner in the tavern, and sat as far from Jack’s usual table as possible. She even declined company from Ridley. She would have eaten in her room, but she wanted to hear if Mac said anything about the fig
ht. To her relief, Mac and Jack both kept quiet about the origins of their wounds.

  Grace pushed her plate away even though she’d barely touched any of her food. The fight with Mac left her disillusioned, yet again. He was strong; too strong for her. Still, Marcus’s life could be at stake. Deep down, Grace knew it would be in everyone’s best interest to have The Death Dealer visit Marcus again. However, that could prove to be as dangerous as going after Mac alone. She needed to get Mac’s intentions and plans right first. Then she could go to Marcus.

  Jack took a seat across from Grace and slid a bottle of ointment toward her. “For the bruises on your face and wrists.” Grace said nothing. “Be angry if you want, but you’re being stupid. Marcus already has people watching Mac. You need to focus your nightly energies elsewhere. You’re not going to get him unless you stab him in his sleep, and you know how foolish that would be.”

  “I can’t let him go unchecked.”

  “You concern yourself with Mac later – when you’re stronger and are prepared to fight dirty. Now give me your wrist.” Jack took Grace’s wrist and rubbed some ointment into it. It smelled similar to what the castle healer had given her after her first kill, and she shuddered at the thought. A sea of blood washed over her mind’s eye.

  Seeing that Grace was now entertaining guests, Marcus made his way over. Jack stopped what he was doing and gave his attention to the King of Thieves. He still held onto Grace’s wrist, though. “I heard there was a bit of an accident in the stables today.”

  “I am far too clumsy sometimes.” Grace gave Marcus a sheepish grin but he was unamused.

  “And what is your excuse, Anders?”

  “She’s far too clumsy for my own good.” Jack leaned back in his chair; finally letting go of Grace. He reached into his coat and retrieved his pipe.

  “If I guess correctly, a drunken Mac may have had a hand in Grace’s clumsiness.” Neither Jack nor Grace wanted to reveal to Marcus what happened, however the King of Thieves had already made his assumptions on the matter. “Wouldn’t be the first time he’s caused an ‘accident’, and I doubt it will be the last. I can understand your silences, but I assure you the matter is being handled. I’ll have no more ‘accidents’ among friends.”

  “How do you plan to stop them?” Jack said. “It’s hard to punish clumsiness.”

  “Never you mind. If it happens again, let me know.” And Marcus was gone.

  A silence settled between Grace and Jack. His expression was unreadable and Grace wondered if Jack’s mind was moving as fast as her own. “What do you think Marcus has planned?”

  “My guess is he’s rooting out Mac’s followers first. There’s no telling what kind of allies Mac has or what his intentions are. I suspect Marcus is like The Death Dealer. He’s waiting for the right time, because it could be dangerous to move too soon.” Grace nodded her agreement and Jack continued, “I’m going to caution you again to keep your nose clean. You’ve gained Mac’s attention in too many ways now.” Jack patted her hand before he rose and left.

  Nine

  At lunch the next day, Grace was completely exhausted. She tossed and turned most of the night, thinking of Mac, Marcus, and about Jack’s cautions. What little sleep she did get barely helped in getting her through her morning chores in the stable. When lunch finally came around, she sat at the table next to Jack’s and put her head down for a quick nap. She didn’t even care about eating.

  Jack put his feet up on the table and quietly watched Grace. He was not interested in company, but he said nothing. He just continued to smoke his pipe. If the girl wanted to sleep at his table, who was he to stop her?

  The tavern was relatively dead until Ridley burst through the door. She was out of breath, but there was an enormous smile on her face. “You’ll never guess what I just saw down at the pier!”

  A few regulars looked at Ridley and made some off-hand jokes, and then Jim Little emerged from the kitchen and slung a dish towel over his shoulder. “Don’t keep us guessing! What was down at the pier?”

  “A great ship with tattered flags from Nareroc.”

  Someone threw a half-eaten potato at Ridley. She dodged it and it slapped against the wall. “You got our hopes up for something that happens all the time?”

  “No, you fools! A Nareroc flag on a ship with a sea serpent’s head carved into the bow.” No one said anything. “Come on! The Fearless Dawn has returned!”

  Grace lifted her head at this. The Fearless Dawn was a legendary pirate ship. The captain changed every few years, but the ship was a sailor’s nightmare, or so she heard. Ravaging women, pillaging ships, fearing no Navy and holding the ability to create a mist to hide in, the stories grew every year. It raided the coast near Arganis more than once when she was growing up, but the incidents were not clear in her memory. Grace found the whole business exhilarating. She had kept The Death Dealer quiet recently because the Thieves Guild cleared out trouble, but with pirates abroad she could return to her beloved hood.

  Jack groaned in his corner. “That means Kay is back.”

  Ridley pulled up a chair and sat between Grace and Jack’s tables. “Don’t be so harsh about Captain Kay.”

  “That woman is absolutely insane. She comes in here and starts fights, then leaves the Angel and all of Glenbard in a mess. I would rather see a pack of wild dogs run through here. Dogs, at least, do their business outside.”

  “This is your lucky day then, because Kay and some of the men from her crew are on their way. I’m going to go meet them outside.” Ridley jumped up and rushed back out the door.

  “Is this Kay woman really all that bad?” Grace asked.

  “She can be. She comes in using Nareroc flags so the King’s guard and the Navy won’t bother her, and then she causes a big ruckus and leaves to plunder some helpless merchant ships or little coastline villages. She’s my age, has been captain for over three years, and the crew seems to have become even more bloodthirsty under her.”

  “Ridley seemed quite taken by her.”

  “Yes. Kay Lansa is a hero to Ridley because she’s unafraid. However, she’s often unafraid and reckless.”

  Grace sighed. “She sounds interesting enough. Maybe you should give her another chance. She cannot be as bad as you say.”

  “There was a time we used to be friends, then she took to the sea and changed. But you'll see for yourself.”

  The wooden door of the Angel was suddenly thrown open. A woman of medium height walked through the door, with Ridley following. She had the dusky complexion of native women of Nareroc. Her skin was darker than Sir Edmund’s was, because her blood wasn’t diluted with that of Cesernan’s nobility. She had thick, black hair tied back into a braid that fell to her mid-back. She kept a sword at her side, and Grace could make out the hilt of a dagger tied to her boot. About five men swarmed in behind her, each looking more grizzled and deadly than the last.

  “Jim!” the woman called. “Drinks all around! The boys of the Fearless Dawn have returned and they’re thirsty!”

  The crew members of the Fearless Dawn bustled in and sat here and there, but Kay, with Ridley at her side, made straight for Jack.

  “Jack Anders…still hanging around the Angel? Given any thought to my proposal?”

  “I have no wish to join you, or those dogs you travel with at sea. There’s no desire in me to be a pirate.” Jack put his pipe up to his lips and blew a smoke ring at Kay.

  “A fighter like you? I could use your bite on my crew. And I remember a time when you worked as an enforcer down by the docks. Busting skulls and breaking hands with the best.” Kay pulled up a chair and sat across from Jack, and Ridley returned to her chair between tables. Kay completely ignored Grace, but even Ridley wasn’t paying any mind to Grace.

  “Jack’s a lost cause, Kay. Me, on the other hand, I could be the best thing to happen to your ship,” Ridley said and sat straight up. She was a fierce enough looking youth, but Grace knew her better. She giggled at the thought of Ridley being
a bloodthirsty pirate.

  “And who are you?” Kay asked, turning her attention for the first time to Grace. “Who dares to sit so close to Mad Dog Anders? I’d like to say his bark is worse than his bite, but, well...” Kay motioned toward one of her men. A long, white scar ran down his left cheek.

  Grace was shocked that Jack dared to give such a mark to anyone. She knew he was a former rusher, but it was one thing to be told something and another to see the damage. She didn’t care if the victim was a pirate.

  Jack cleared his throat. “As I recall, Kay’s man there challenged me to a duel and lost.”

  “Who knew a stable boy was so good with swords?” Kay cut Jack a strange, almost seductive look, and Grace suddenly felt a bit jealous of the woman. She hated how her eyes looked Jack over as if he were something to be conquered.

  “Enough of that,” Kay said. “Tell me, girl, who are you?”

  “This is Grace Hilren, Kay,” Ridley cut in. “The one I told you about as we were walking.”

  “Ah yes, the noblewoman. You certainly are skinnier and shorter than I expected. I almost don’t believe you could lift a sword, much less duel with one.”

  “I have had a bit of training. Besides, looking at you, I judge you are not nearly as frightful as tales would have us believe.”

  Kay glared hard at Grace and a great deal of tension formed between them. There was a silent battle raging, and neither looked like she would back down. Jack looked over at Ridley and shrugged.

  “I can see you’re no coward,” Kay finally said. “Many a man has wet his trousers at a mere glance from me. I’m impressed; you have more gusto than I would have guessed.”

  “You have no idea.” Grace rose from her seat; never taking her eyes off Kay. “But it’s time I return to work. Those stalls aren’t going to clean themselves.”

  Grace bowed her head in acknowledgment to Ridley and Jack. To Kay, she didn’t even offer a goodbye. It was the sort of snub a noblewoman of Katherine’s caliber would give.