Burn Me Deadly: An Eddie LaCrosse Novel (23 page)

Again I said, “Sure.”

She touched my tunic. “Would you like a dry shirt?”

I shook my head. “I’ll be all right.”

She started to turn away, then abruptly swung back and kissed me on the cheek. “A lot of girls like her get hurt and no one helps them. She’s lucky to have you looking out for her.” Then she scampered off.

I went back into the room. I closed the door, and except for the starlight through the open window, it was dark. I pulled off my tunic and draped it on the windowsill to dry. I moved the chair near the door, sat and leaned it back. No one could open the door without waking me.

I tried to connect the dots between Lockett’s information and what I knew. Marantz’s presence now made total sense: by putting up the geld for Tempcott, he had the scions of the region’s most influential families and the crown prince of Muscodia under his thumb. Tempcott made sense, too: a true believer willing to do anything, climb into bed with anyone, to further the cause. If Laura Lesperitt had something Tempcott wanted but wouldn’t give it up, what could be more natural than that he’d ask his partner to take care of the problem?

But who killed Hank Pinster? And Mother Bennings? And who was the old guy with gloves, and why had Liz lied about him?

God, I wanted to lie down in my own bed, snuggle close to Liz and inhale that atmosphere of safety and contentment. But for all I knew, Liz was off with the old man with gloves, doing who knew what. Was it her father? Some old (
really
old) lover?

I closed my eyes and was asleep in moments. I dreamed of a huge, befanged mouth bathing me in agonizing flames as Liz laughed.

chapter

TWENTY

E

ddie,” a voice softly said.

I opened my eyes. Gray pre-dawn light filled the room. Nicky smiled wearily at me. Dark eye circles and the pallor of illness still marked her, but her gaze was clear. The vise around my chest loosened a few turns.

She looked at me for a long time before she croaked, “Where’s your shirt?”

“Where’s yours?” I replied, and rocked the chair forward until all four legs touched the floor.

She put a hand to her head. “I feel like I’ve been tossed over a waterfall in a barrel.”

I went to the windowsill and pulled on my now-dry tunic. “You were poisoned.”

She nodded and stretched, twining her hands together over her head. Her bare feet poked out the bottom of the sheet, toes spread wide. “Doug took me upstairs ‘just to talk.’ He got mad when I wouldn’t put out. I tried to fight him, but he made me drink something he said would make me ‘more agreeable.’ That’s the last I remember.”

“You weren’t that agreeable. He didn’t get what he wanted.”

She looked at me steadily for a long time. “Then I’m still . . . I mean, he didn’t . . . so . . .”

“Yes,” I said.

She sighed with relief, then winced as she sat up, holding the sheet against her. Her hair had dried in a frightening bird’s-nest tangle. “I can’t wait to see him again. Things will be very different.”

“You’re not in any condition for revenge,” I said firmly. I’d have to get started soon as well, to warn Bella Lou and Buddy that Candora was coming after them. I had no doubt they could protect themselves in a fair fight, but Candora had shown no indication that he played by the rules.

“He’s not getting out of my sight again,” she said with as much certainty as she could muster. “Not alive, at any rate.” She swung her legs over the edge of the bed and tried to stand, but ended up in an undignified pile on the floor. Oblivious to her nudity she snapped, “Don’t just stand there; help me up.”

I did not move. “I don’t think you—”

“Did I ask you to think?” she snarled. She pulled herself to her feet by clinging to the bed, but her legs still wouldn’t support her weight and she fell again. Fresh sweat gleamed on her skin.

I lifted her under her arms, sat her back on the edge of the bed and wrapped the blankets around her. “You should be a little more polite to us peasants,” I said.

She looked up sharply, her eyes flashing with new fury, but it faded quickly. She took a deep breath and said contritely, “I’m sorry, Eddie. You saved my life, and I start acting like I own you.”

“Yes,” I agreed. I sat down beside her. “Now, about this revenge thing—”

“He poisoned me, Eddie. I can’t just let that pass.”

“You’ll get your chance, I’m sure. In the meantime,
I’m
going after him now. Mother Mallory will be along shortly to check on you, and I suggest you listen to her.
She
was the one smart enough to save you, not me.”

She looked surprised. “Why are you going after him?”

“He did something I can’t let pass, either.”

“Do you know where he is?”

“No,” I lied. “And you need to rest until I get back.”

I expected a protest, but she nodded and yawned. “I can barely keep my eyes open anyway.”

I helped her lie down and covered her with the sheet. She may have planned to fake me out, but she was so tired she quickly fell asleep for real. When she was again peacefully snoring, I slipped out the door.

In the hall I met Mother Mallory. She said softly, “Since you’re leaving I assume the crisis has passed?”

“Seems to,” I agreed. “But could you do me a favor? She wants to find the man who poisoned her and teach him a lesson. He’s bad news, and I’d just as soon she stay here until he’s long gone.”

Mother Mallory nodded. “And will you search for him instead?”

“Me? Nah. I never look for trouble.”

“But it finds you.”

“Like it’s got my itinerary,” I agreed. “And one more thing. On the day she died, Mother Bennings left word with a friend that she was looking for me. I never had a chance to find out why. Do you know?”

“Yes. She’d put together some new herbs for your head. I think she wanted to give them to you.”

I could say nothing for a moment. “Well. I wish I’d had the chance to thank her.”

Mother Mallory smiled sadly. “Her loss touched us all.”

IT
threatened to be another hot summer day, and I needed a bath almost as bad as Nicky had the night before. There would be no time for that, though. I was being generous in my assessment of Candora’s professionalism and assumed he was the kind of guy who slept late. Since here I was, on the move at sunrise, I should have no trouble getting out of town ahead of him. Except, of course, that I was on foot, my horse still tied at Long Billy’s tavern.

Neceda waited at the bottom of the hill, although the morning mist risen from the Gusay hid it. The fog would disperse once the sun cleared the top of the forest, but for now it was easy to imagine there was no town at all, just an empty little clear space along the river. No burned-down stable, no former whorehouse filled with dragon worshippers. No lying girlfriends.

I stepped off the road and went behind a tree to relieve myself. First, I had to retrieve Pansy, assuming no one had stolen the beast during the night. Then I’d have to feed and water her, hard to do with the stable gone. Then I should probably feed and water myself. I finished peeing, refastened my trousers and stepped back onto the road.

I’ve had some serious luck in my life, from surviving the massacre that ended my days as a mercenary to having Prince Frederick stumble out just in time to save my ass the night before. But the universe has a way of balancing things, and it’s easy to forget that. Which is why I was surprised, even though I shouldn’t have been, when I came around the tree and almost walked smack into Gordon Marantz.

His horse whinnied and backed up into the one behind it. At the same moment I recognized Marantz, the man behind him screamed, “
That’s him! That’s the guy!
”

I held up my hands. “Whoa, guys, I was just on my way to Neceda and got lost in this fog. Am I anywhere close?”

“That’s the guy who busted in and kicked me in the head!” the other guy insisted, pointing at me with a frantic waving finger. Well, that was even more luck.

I kept up the innocent act. “Buddy, maybe it’s the fog, but you’re mista—”

“Shut up,” Marantz said calmly, and I realized he had a small crossbow pointed casually in my direction. It wouldn’t be accurate for more than a short distance, but in this situation that was plenty. There seemed to be no other bodyguards with him, which was a small blessing at least. Guess Gordon wasn’t expecting a fight, although he certainly wasn’t thrown off by it. “Who are you?”

I smiled. “Lance Thrower.”

“Well, Mr. Thrower, you busted into an establishment owned by me and beat up an employee and one of my guests. Care to tell me why?”

God, I was too tired for this. No useful lie came to mind, so I just shrugged.

Marantz’s expression didn’t change. “Get his sword, Vinnie.”

Vinnie dismounted and strode over to me. A bruise roughly the size of my foot colored one cheek and temple. “You are going to
so
regret this,” he hissed, pointing his finger right in my face.

“I already do,” I assured him.

He drew my sword, gave me a smug your-ass-is-mine look and turned to Marantz. “Let’s take this guy and—”

When he turned the blade upright, the spikes shot from the hilt through his hand. They were two inches long, needle sharp and (because I’m devious that way) coated with dried lemon juice. Vinnie stared at the tips poking through the back of his hand for about five seconds before letting loose with a howl that was probably heard in Sevlow.

I didn’t wait for his scream. As soon as I heard the mechanism click, I jumped past him and grabbed a handful of Marantz’s clothes. The crossbow bolt shot harmlessly into the trunk of a nearby tree. I yanked him from the saddle and threw him to the ground. Before he knew it I had my knee on his chest and the dragon knife from my boot at his throat.

Vinnie reflexively opened his fingers, but the spikes held the sword in place. Without his grip to control it, though, the weight of the blade made it fall over suddenly, and I heard the crack of a wrist bone. Lockett had been right; the Shadow Slasher III
was
top-heavy, for just that reason. Vinnie howled again.

I saw none of this, though, because I wasn’t dumb enough to take my eyes off Marantz. He was completely unruffled. “Now what?” he asked calmly as he looked up at me.

“How about you tell me what you’re after here,” I said.

He laughed. “You gotta work a lot harder to scare things out of me, bucko.”

I put more weight on his sternum and he grunted. “Not that much harder,” I said, fighting to stay calm. Rage would do me no good.

“Oh, God,” Vinnie sobbed behind us. “My arm . . .”

“It’s a business investment,” Marantz said, his voice tight. “Tempcott controls Prince Frederick, and I control Tempcott.”

“And what’re your people looking for in the Black River Hills?”

He laughed again. “You do get around. My people are looking for a long shot. If they find it, then I’ll have something any king in the world would give his trea sury and firstborn daughter to obtain. If not . . . no harm done.”

“Boss . . . ,” Vinnie pleaded.

“I’m
occupied
!” Marantz snarled.

“No harm except for Laura Lesperitt,” I said. “What
is
it?” I knew, but I wanted to hear him say it, to have his words give it a tangible reality.

Instead he smiled. “The fire dreams are made of.”

“Are you suddenly a poet?” Now I grinned. “You think there’s no harm telling me about your setup because I’ll be dead before I can pass it on, don’t you?”

“Pretty sure,” he agreed.

I pulled my knife away, slipped it back in my boot and stood. Marantz stared at me, puzzled, but didn’t move. I went to Vinnie, took his limp hand and pressed the catch on my sword. The spikes retracted, and he moaned in both relief and fresh pain. He fell flat on his face as I put the sword back in its sheath.

Marantz slowly sat up. “What are you doing?”

“Walking away,” I said. “I have no real quarrel with you. You can send your boys after me if you want, and eventually I’m sure they’ll get me. But I’ll take a few of them down first, and word would get around that you’re wasting time and manpower trying to get revenge on someone who had a knife to your throat and didn’t slice it.”

Amused and bewildered, he said, “You’re counting on my sense of
honor
?”

“No, your vanity. You have a lot of pies on your fingers because you don’t make silly decisions. No one knows about this little run-in except you, me and Vinnie.
I
won’t tell anyone, and I don’t have any illusions about how you’ll deal with Vinnie. So unless
you
start talking, no one will ever know.”

He stood and brushed dirt from his clothes. “Who are you, soldier?”

I shook my head. “The less you know, the safer I am.”

He laughed again. He laughed a lot, for a guy with so much blood on his hands. “I can find out any time I want, you know. And every shadow you pass might have a knife with your name on it.”

I shrugged. “I could say the same thing to you. Except I already know who you are.” With that I turned and walked away into the mist; I couldn’t ask for a much more dramatic exit. Marantz’s chuckling followed me down the hill.

chapter

TWENTY-ONE

I

t’s hard to be nonchalant when you’re expecting a crossbow bolt in your back at any moment, but I managed it. Only time would tell if Marantz called my bluff, because bluff it surely was.

I’d gone quite a ways down the hill when wheels rattled in the mist behind me. I stopped and waited as a single-horse wagon came into view. It carried a farmer and his wife on the seat, and four children in the back. They were dressed up and looked very grim. The farmer reined up beside me and looked me over. “You hurt?” he asked with no urgency.

“No, just heading into town. Is this the right way? Hard to tell with this fog.”

“We’re going into Neceda for the hanging. We could give you a ride.”