The Death Dealer - The Complete Series Read online

  The constable was still rambling on, quite ignorant to her mounting anger, but Nathaniel stopped listening to Trenton to take in Grace’s reaction. “Constable,” Nathaniel cut him off. “We are trying to enjoy a quiet meal. Perhaps you should enjoy your own quiet meal? Away from us?”

  “Er…” The constable pushed back from his seat. “Miss Hilren,” he said, bowing to her. “Enjoy your meal.” It was a relief to see him go.

  “He seemed nice,” Grace said sarcastically. She put her roll down, suddenly less than hungry.

  “I apologize for his insulting behavior, Grace. I can see that you don’t want to talk about how you came to Glenbard, but the city knows and loves your story. Trenton can be a senseless bore, but please don’t let him damper the evening.”

  Grace looked around the room. Trenton was by the door, pointing in their direction, whispering excitedly to the other guards. “I suddenly feel very ill here.” The Lane may have accepted her, but obviously this was new territory.

  The sergeant’s face fell. “Grace, please don’t let him ruin the evening.”

  “Sergeant Moore, I said I feel ill. I would like to go home.”

  Grace got up and the patrons of the King’s Beard watched her walk to the exit. They pretended to carry on with their conversations, but everyone was interested in the goings of the fallen noblewoman. They all knew her by name and it was akin to having a princess in their tavern. A real noblewoman had eaten there! Disgraced though she may be, she was born higher than every single one of them. The gossip her mere presence caused would go on for weeks.

  The sun was completely gone when she went out. The lamplighters had already come around to light the streets and the pale lamplight cast everything in eerie shadows. She was bathed in the glow of the streetlamps now, but most of her walk home would be in darkness. She turned herself toward home and began to walk; looking forward to getting in a little sleep before going to the Emerald Rose.

  “Grace! Wait!” Sergeant Moore hurried up to her.

  Grace didn’t stop her stride; rather she picked it up, though she refused to run. People outside the Angel never looked at her without seeing a noble. She was never just Grace. Now an entirely different tavern on the other side of town saw only the same.

  “Wait!” From the sound of his voice Moore was further behind, not giving too much chase.

  “Stupid,” she cursed herself under her breath. When he first mentioned dining with ‘Glenbard’s noblewoman’ she should have turned him down, maybe even slapped him. She just wanted to go home and sleep this embarrassment off.

  Grace walked a few more blocks before turning to look behind her. The King’s Beard and Moore were nowhere to be seen. Grace lessened her pace and continued on home.

  ~*~*~

  Nathaniel turned back around when it became clear Grace wouldn’t stop for anyone. Returning to the King’s Beard, he was greeted with an array of cheers and jokes. He strode up to Trenton, eyes flashing, where the constable was seated with his mates.

  “Your father is a drunk who sleeps in the reek,” Nathaniel said crossly.

  “Something wrong?” Trenton asked innocently; putting his mug on the table and rising.

  “How do you feel about public embarrassment? I didn’t bring some common wench into this tavern! A fine lady deserves respect, and it’s impolite to bring up such unpleasant topics.”

  A serving girl of considerable height and swaying hips grumbled at him, “Common wench, indeed.” She grabbed the empty mugs from the tables around Trenton, his mates, and Nathaniel.

  “Apologies, Janice,” Nathaniel replied contritely.

  Janice bobbed a mock curtsey. “I’m sorry I can’t be a fancy noblewoman with a slender stick body, hips made for birthing more nobles, and no dirt under my nails.”

  “Look – the sergeant’s gone and made poor Janice mad!” Trenton teased.

  “I’m sorry, Janice,” Nathaniel repeated.

  Janice poked him in the chest with her finger. “She’s not so grand, you know! She’s as fallen as any of us ‘common wenches’ are. Everyone knows that prim little noblewoman used to gallivant around town with Jack Anders. Oh! Not so deserving of your respect now, is she?” she sneered when his frown deepened.

  “Anders?” Constable Trenton asked, and cocked his head to one side in thought. “He’s the one who gave you that, right?” The constable pointed to Nathaniel’s scar.

  “Could have been anyone in that brawl,” Nathaniel replied, running a finger over the scar.

  Nathaniel thought back to that night long ago. Jack Anders had been working with Nathaniel to break up a brawl in the Emerald that night. Plenty of sharp instruments had appeared, which everyone grabbed and used to fight everyone else. Nathaniel nearly lost an eye in the scuffle, and when the dust cleared, a towering Jack Anders was the only person left standing. Nathaniel was young at the time. The rusher probably didn’t even remember him.

  Still, it was surprising to hear that Grace had been involved with the man. He gave Trenton a shot to the arm anyway. “Keep the gossip to yourself in front of ladies. Especially before fine women such as Janice.” To show he meant well, he playfully tweaked her nose. She swatted at him but smiled anyway.

  ~*~*~

  Not far from the King’s Beard another guard stopped Grace. He had the scale of the Merchant’s Way guardhouse over his breast with a silver star under it, which meant he was a guard captain.

  “Miss Hilren, is it?” Although the captain was balding on top, he had a thick, gray beard that hung down onto his chest. In a fight it would be a liability, Grace thought. Anyone with fingers could grab and yank, but being a captain, he probably didn’t worry much about fights; not like the constables and sergeants did.

  “May I help you?” she asked; standing resolutely with her hands on her hips.

  “I understand you work at the Angel.” Good manners kept Grace from rolling her eyes up into her head. “A piece of advice – it would benefit you to help Sergeant Moore with his inquiries. Those who are willing to help such a fine young man are bound to be rewarded.”

  “I have nothing with which to help or hinder, Captain...?”

  “Ericson.” He proudly ran his fingers through his beard. Grace wanted very badly to pull on it, to yank his head down and box his ears for bothering her.

  “Captain Ericson, I am a barmaid, not a confidant. Do try and remember that.” She mocked him with a half-hearted curtsey and was off again.

  ~*~*~

  Grace dozed uncomfortably until the watch called the midnight hour. She had one hour to get ready and go. When she woke, she was more embarrassed by the events of the night than ever. Her temper had flared and gotten the best of her over dinner. She stormed out, which only showed her to be a silly little girl, and embarrassed a city guard, to boot. Even though that news would probably bring a smile to every patron of the Angel, she felt hot with shame about it. Moore had done nothing wrong and she had a fit. Grace sighed. There was nothing to be done about it now.

  One of the advantages of Mistress Fisher’s rooms was that there was a secret door out into the alley. Fisher’s house once belonged to the Queen of Thieves, prior to Marcus’s take over. There were secret holds all over the bottom floor and two secret exits. One was in the main hall and one opened onto the roof. The trick was to find the latch in the dark without making too much noise.

  Grace tucked the Death Dealer garb into a pack and slung it over her shoulder. Without the aid of a candle, Grace stole down the stairs. Fisher made sure all light was snuffed out by ten o’clock and no later. Any guests visiting after that hour were expected to pay, but being who he was, Marcus was usually offered light by the old battle axe herself, free of charge. Grace stopped at the bottom of the stairs and listened. All was quiet except for a snoring tenant. That was good. The snores would help cover any noise Grace made.

  Grace felt along the wall until she felt the small indentation. She pushed in and slid the door along. Fisher knew about the d
oor and Grace was sure some of the other tenants did too, but as long as no one saw her, it made no difference. Whomever Nathaniel had undoubtedly hired to watch the house didn’t know to watch the alley for trouble.

  Once out into the night air, Grace snaked her way through the back alleys. She never changed in the same place twice; instead, she looked out for a blind spot in an alley and undressed quickly. Tonight she positioned herself between two buildings. This was the most unpleasant part. She wore trousers under her dress, but for a few minutes she’d be exposed with only pants and a breast band on. After surveying the area one last time, she pulled the dress over her head and quickly put her black shirt on. The sleeves clung to her in the heated night air and she felt hot and sticky. With minimal grumbling, she got into her leather jerkin. She tied on her sword belt and put on the executioner’s hood.

  After I do this one thing for Thom, I will burn this damned hood, she told herself. This wasn’t what she was supposed to be doing, but the gods punished oath breakers and she wouldn’t have Thom or Marcus saying she was such a scoundrel. Secretly, she hoped Harris wasn’t even at the Emerald Rose. She didn’t want to be another accessory in anyone else’s death.

  No, this wasn’t about death; this was a simple tracking mission. She just had to watch. If she accidentally “missed” Harris, she wouldn’t have to report anything. If Harris ran and didn’t hurt anyone, there was no problem. So why was her stomach in knots if this was going to be such a simple mission?

  Grace shoved the dress into her sack to hide it as best she could. If it was stolen, no great loss. Checking her surroundings again, Grace crept silently away. She kept low and in the shadows, moving slowly in case any sleepless soul watched the alley from their home.

  The alleys of Glenbard created a large network where the savvy could get from one side of the city to the other without ever setting foot on a main road. Grace had learned the twists, turns, and dead ends of the maze over the last year. She had a map drawn up by Thom, and she’d taken a good look at it before setting out for the Emerald.

  The Emerald tavern was the roughest one in Glenbard, and the men who were paid to watch the doors and throw out the troublemakers usually didn’t last long. Some died, some were wounded beyond repair, and some simply went missing. Only a few ever walked away with merely a scratch. Anyone brave enough to tangle at the Emerald knew the risks. No doubt a drunken fool would love to get a bit of flesh off the Death Dealer.

  Grace hugged the shadows and spied the alley door to the Emerald. One rusher stood outside, enjoying a pipe while, by the sounds of it, a great brawl was going on inside. Grace wouldn’t get closer unless Harris came out. She wouldn’t dare tangle with an Emerald rusher.

  After a fair amount of time had passed, Grace became restless. Her headache returned, pounding anew in her temples. Her mind went back to the events during dinner, and under her hood she felt her face flush again. She owed the good sergeant an apology. It would be bad manners not to extend one. Then she thought about Marcus with his foolish and twisted code of honor. He should have just turned Adam over, thereby showing the Guard that the King of Thieves didn’t protect those who murdered. But no, he decided it was a Guild matter and therefore had taken it into his own hands. And where did that put them now?

  Grace was preparing to give up and go home when a man suddenly burst out of the Emerald’s back door. She caught only a glimpse, but she was certain it was Harris. No one ran from the Emerald, not like that. This man hadn’t been thrown out. He fled.

  Rushing away from her hiding spot, she tore off down the alley after him. He ran fast, fueled by fear. She pushed her legs harder to close the gap, to take away some of his lead, but strong arms wrapped around her middle and she went crashing to the ground; a great weight on top of her.

  “He’s drunk and crazy!” her attacker growled. “He’ll kill you!”

  The weight lifted off of her and someone pulled Grace back to her feet. She turned on her heel to box the person’s ear, but stopped when she saw who it was.

  “Jack!” He was the rusher at the door! Of course he had been there. He was one of the few to walk away unscathed, but that meant he must have been back in Glenbard for some time. He’d come back…and never even came to see her.

  Thoughts of pursuing Harris screeched to a halt as her mind tried to process the sudden reappearance of Jack. Behind him, she saw several men rushing out of the Emerald. They were trying to get to Harris. Her legs were frozen in place; her mind stopped working entirely.

  “Run,” Jack hissed. “Get out of here!”

  The command kicked Grace into gear again and she set off in the same direction as Harris. She took the first turn and followed the winding alleyways until they swung her back to Mistress Fisher’s; barely remembering to get her sack on the way. Though when she did get it, it smelled like a tom cat had sprayed it with his mark. She changed into the dress once more and stomached the smell long enough to get upstairs. She dumped the sack and dress into the hall. Let the stench burn into Fisher’s nostrils for a while.

  He was back. Jack Anders was back in Glenbard. The man who said he loved Grace and then jumped on a trade ship with barely a good-bye. Now he was back, and without even a hello. Finally home, Grace succumbed to her grief. She cried into her pillow until there was nothing left to cry, and then she stared helplessly at the wall.

  Thom knew. Of course Thom would know! It was his job to know things like that. He’d sent her to the Emerald, knowing Jack worked there. Grace’s temper flared. She sat up in her bed and waited impatiently for the sun to rise.

  Seven

  The morning dawned bright and hot. The gray of the dawn sky hadn’t been completely chased away and the moon was visible opposite the rising sun, but a determined Grace left her lodging and made for Rogue’s Lane. Thom lived with Marcus and Ridley in their home on the edge of the Lane and Serenity Place.

  The house was two stories; an uncommon occurrence for a Lane house not boarding more than one family. It even had a garden kept up by Thom, which was also unusual for Lane life. There wasn’t much time or space for gardens. Grace marched up the little path and resisted the urge to stamp on Thom’s stupid flowers. Instead she banged on the front door, hoping she was waking up the entire household.

  Marcus’s cook, Ginger, opened the door. She was a tall, lanky woman who had lost much of her hair due to an illness in her youth. Now she wore a bright orange wig, which earned her the name ‘Ginger’. No one really remembered her true name anymore.

  “Miss Grace!” she exclaimed. “It’s awfully early.”

  “I need to see Thom!”

  “Well he’s not up yet, and neither is Ridley. I’ll make you some tea and breakfast. You can wait-”

  “Now, Ginger.” The cook looked hurt and Grace suddenly felt bad. “Please, it’s very important to me that you get him.”

  Ginger looked unsure, but she still did as she was asked. Grace was left on the doorstep. Her body was tired from lack of sleep, but her mind raged. Each time she closed her eyes, she saw Jack. He had left so suddenly without even an explanation, and everyone had seen how hurt she was. Thom sent her to the Emerald on purpose, and if anyone knew Jack Anders was back in Glenbard, it would be him.

  He came out of the house looking guilty. Before her palm made contact with his cheek, she had no notion that she was going to slap him. Thom stared at her, his hand against his cheek, almost as stunned as she was. He closed the door behind him.

  “Met Jack, did you?” This time Thom was prepared and grabbed her wrist before she had the chance to land the blow.

  “How could you do that to me?” she hissed; working hard not to scream in his face. There was no need to draw any unwanted attention their way. Still, she struggled against Thom’s grip.

  “I didn’t think he’d be there last night. Stop twisting, you crazy wench!” Thom pulled Grace into a great bear hug and pinned her arms to her side. “He’s been in the city for about a week. I told him to leave you
be when I discovered he’d returned. You didn’t need to see him. It’d only muddle your brain, and you’re no good to anyone upset.”

  “No good to you, you mean.” The only thing Thom and Marcus cared about was that she continued to follow their instructions. She wriggled free of his grasp. “I thought we were supposed to be friends.” She thought about spitting on his shoes, but decided that was too undignified for her. She stormed off instead.

  ~*~*~

  She blew into the Angel like a hurricane, prepared to sweep any who got in her way into the very eye of the storm. No one raised a finger to stop her from going into the stables. If she had taken a minute to look around, she’d see that everyone avoided eye contact and whispered about her. She might have stopped her fury long enough to puzzle as to why she didn’t get the usual, “Little Gracie is all up in arms. Best hide the breakables.” If she’d stopped for even a moment, she might not have gone into the stables.

  She intended to work in the stables for Mayhew today, as the hard labor always served to clear away some of her anger. But it seemed she wouldn’t have the chance to be rid of her foul mood. Jack waited for her.

  He was dressed in dirt-stained trousers and a blood-stained white shirt. His beard hadn’t been trimmed in some time and he’d let his brown hair grow out; hanging down past his ears now. Grace gritted her teeth, ready to slap him if he got too close.

  “Thom told me to stay away.”

  “How long were you in Glenbard before he told you that?”

  Jack lowered his head in shame. “About three days.” His admission didn’t surprise Grace. He could have been in the city for a month and never come to see her. He was only there now because he got caught.

  “Get out of here,” she snapped.