The Price of a Head

The central hub of Bristol is a booming metropolis as well as a dilapidated cesspool--the perfect breeding ground for the dead and the damned. One man seeks to end the unwanted infestation.

The taste of ash and death coated his mouth as if he had just rinsed it out with an old, dirty sock. The brown trench coat that hung around his shoulders was more than a little tattered, and his matted red hair hung in clumps over his forehead, just long enough to cover his eyes in shadow. His boots clattered heavily across the cobblestone of Bristol, and as he exhaled the cigarette smoke, he could feel the taste grow ever more potent.

The man walked with purpose as he moved through the city--people bustling around him even though the evening had long since fallen. The ports that controlled the trading traffic from Bristol to the New World (as well as countless other locations) were so loud with voices and ships that the din could be heard almost citywide. The man’s eyes glinted in the evening light as he walked through the busy crowds of people. The green orbs held a mysterious light within them that just barely shone through the shroud of his hair. He effortlessly shifted his body, twisting his shoulders in precise measures to slide past every person that approached him or slowed him down. He was a man that some people would catch a glimpse of as he moved, but few would ever remember seeing--a master of disappearing in plain sight.

The tip of his cigarette flared as he took another long drag, and the smoke wafted upwards and into his eyes. He cursed as he ducked towards an alley and rubbed at them vigorously in a futile attempt to staunch the burning sensation. He hurled his cigarette into the stones at his feet and stomped it out, glaring down at the broken object as if it had offended him before his ears perked up. There was some sort of commotion rising up over the sound of the busy streets. He smirked to himself as he identified where it was coming from, forgetting about the thrumming pain in the backs of his eyes as he whirled on his heel and stalked off down the alley into the gutters of the city.

“No! Henry! Run!”

“Where are you goin’ sweetheart, we’ve just started having fun.”

There was a loud snarl--either a battle cry or a sign of being attacked--and a woman’s scream echoed through the alleyway as the red-haired man rounded the corner. He moved silently, now, even in the heavy coat and boots. He lifted a hand to brush his tangled hair from his face, the bright red (obviously colored) locks parted to the sides and his vibrant green eyes seemed to pierce the dim light of the alley as he approached the kerfuffle. One man was holding another in a suit and tie against the wall of the alley. The victim’s feet were dangling and the assailant had his face buried into the dapper man’s neck.

Two other men were pursuing a woman in an evening dress and a fur boa around her neck. Her diamond rings and bracelets flashed in the miniscule amounts of light, but the red-haired man knew that these beasts weren’t after her jewellery. He walked toward the group of them and placed a hand to his mouth, balling it into a fist and coughing into it. The thug who had been holding the man against the wall immediately dropped his captive and he turned in a flash, whipping around to see the man’s green eyes locked directly onto his. Blood dripped from the thug’s mouth, and a savage bite wound could be seen in his victim’s neck, still pumping out surges of crimson like a fountain with its trigger stuck.

The red-haired man reached into his pocket and he pulled out a half-crumpled pack of cigarettes. He carefully removed one of them from the pack and then looked at the empty, crumpled package with disdain as he tossed it to the alley floor. He continued to walk forward, noticing that the two accomplices that had been following the woman had stopped their chase, looking from side to side as if she had vanished. The red-haired man stopped a foot in front of the thug with the bloodied mouth, and he could almost smell the copper on the man’s lips. His hand flashed downward in a blur and when it came back up, he was holding a silver tube in his hand. He flicked his thumb and a lid popped off of it, revealing an interior packed with matches. The man plucked one of them out and he struck it off of his pants, bringing the fire up slowly to the tip of the cigarette and taking a long drag. He flicked the match so it went out and dropped it at his feet before pulling the cigarette from his mouth and breathing a long stream of smoke into the thug’s face.

“Evening, Gents,” the red-haired man spoke, winking at the man he’d just blown smoke at. “Quite a lovely time for a snack, eh?”

At first the thug seemed completely shocked, but he licked the blood around his lips as he stared the red-headed man down and burst into uproarious laughter as the thin, unassuming male attempted to act like a tough guy.

“Kill this fool,” one of the other men spoke. The two of them now merely stood in the alley, leaning against the wall, snickering.

“I’m sorry, little man, but you wound up in the wrong place, at the worst possible time,” the thug spoke, his mouth splitting in to a vicious grin.

The green eyes snapped to the man’s teeth, catching the points gleaming in the light of the overhead lamps, and a grin spread over the red-haired man’s features as well. “No, no, no. You see, this is exactly where I needed to be, and there is no better time than the present. For me at least,” he stated, the grin never wavering. “Please, allow me to make a wager.”

“A wager? And exactly what is this wager?”

“I bet your life that by the end of this cigarette, all three of you will be dead.”

At first the thug laughed, but when the man stared seriously back at him, the thug’s laughter faded into a vicious snarl. The crazy son of a b***h was actually serious. The thug’s fists balled up in frustration as he cocked back his hand, throwing a powerful right hook at the man in front of him. The red-headed man seemed to dodge effortlessly. His cigarette still hung from his mouth and both of his hands were in his pockets as he ducked low and swung his body beneath the lightning fast punch. The thug’s hand landed on the brick wall of the alley and exploded through it, leaving a crater in its wake.

“My, my. You must work out. That, right there, is almost…inhuman. Be careful though, you’re running out of time. I smoke fast.”

The thug’s face contorted with rage as his fingernails began to grow, extending into a savage point. He blasted forward, closing to gap between him and the red-haired stranger in the blink of an eye, swinging his clawed hand downward towards him. With each subsequent strike, the man with the red hair would move just enough to avoid the blow and simultaneously make the enemy think that he was close enough that he would land the next strike.

“You could use some work on those hands of yours, too. Golly, they look atrocious. I bet you’re single. I’m sure a nice girl to warm your bed could do wonders for you.”

“Shut up!” the thug roared as he hopped backward, putting some extra space between them before suddenly blasting forward.

The thug dashed the ten feet that separated the two of them so fast that his body seemed to leave a trail behind him, but as he charged forward, using nothing but blind speed, the red-haired man heaved a bored sigh. He reached into his left sleeve and pulled at his wrist as the thug approached him, skillfully side-stepping at the last second to avoid the charge. However, he immediately stepped back in behind him, his hands gripping tightly around the silver wire that he had pulled from his sleeve, and he looped it around the man’s neck as he charged. As soon as there was tension on the wire, and the man knew he had caught his target, he yanked the wire in opposite directions. With a swift jerk the man’s head was removed from his body, and the flesh began to ignite almost instantly, burning away as if it had been soaked in gasoline.

The two men who had been laughing and waiting for their comrade to finish the smaller man off stopped their jests as they watched their friend fall to the ground. They looked on in fear as the man grabbed their friend’s skull and rotated the blackened bone in his hand.

“Well, looks like there’s not much left to hide, huh? It’s been a while since I’ve seen vampires moving this far into the city.”

“You Crusader dogs are all the same. You believe that you’re the heaven sent exterminators of evil. That you are infallible. Well, I have news for you. Your whole world is about to crumble down around you, boy. You might kill a few of us, but this world’s oceans are going to run red with your kind’s blood. A force you’ve never seen is coming, and it is going to drink your planet dry.”

“Always the prophecy of doom with you guys. We’re coming for you! We’ll win next time. We have a secret, scary, weapon that is going to crush your whole world. It really gets old after a while. I mean, you could probably come up with something more original, no? Perhaps an apology, or a plea for your life. It’s much more likely to save your life than hollow threats.” He took the cigarette out of his mouth and examined the half-smoked dart, regarding it with a simple, confident, set of nods.

The vampires began to snicker as they stood up, their bodies seeming to bulge against their street clothes unnaturally. The hunter’s eyes widened as he looked at them and he knew that these two were the real problems. Physical manipulation was an ability that most vampires had, though to be able to control it to the degree that you could enhance your muscular system across your entire body was something that no peon could handle. These vampires were here for something other than a midnight meal.

The vampire on the left was the first to reach full size. He had grown at least a foot taller, and his limbs were easily double their original muscular capacity. The vampire blasted forward, kicking off of the cobblestone so hard that many of the bricks either cracked beneath the pressure or were torn up and thrown backwards from the sheer force. The hunter’s green eyes darted to and fro, analysing his surroundings and attempting to find an escape, but there was nowhere to go. The vampire’s fist landed in the center of the hunter’s gut and sent the man rocketing into the air, the breath taken clean out of his lungs as he spiralled back downward, slamming hard into the alley floor. As soon as he had hit the ground the vampire’s massive fist came slamming down toward him and the hunter was only just able to roll out of the way of the strike.

Even as he rolled, however, he could feel the splintered ribs from the initial strike screaming in agony. He bit his lip as he sprung to his feet, still managing a cocky smirk as he rolled his shoulders. He felt the bent cigarette in his mouth, having damaged it while rolling across the cobblestone, but he gave it a few experimental puffs and felt the smoke fill his lungs--it was still lit. He reached into his jacket once again, slipping a vial off of his belt and holding it tightly in his hand as the vampire prepared to strike once again. The vampire’s speed was something that the hunter could not keep up with in their present form, and he knew that the next strike could cause enough damage that he could no longer fight back. He bit his lip and he hoped to dear god that Raimey hadn’t skimped on the equipment that he had bought from him.

As soon as the vampire poised to launch forward, the hunter slammed the vial down onto the ground and it blasted outward in a cloud of mist. If he could not track the beast’s movements, he would have to anticipate them instead. As soon as the vampire realized that he had fallen into a trap, he jumped backwards and looked from side to side frantically, trying to use his keen sense of smell to find the hunter. However, as soon as the vampire took a strong whiff of the air around him, his nose began to violently burn with the scent of garlic. It was everywhere, and he realized too late that the man had laced pressurized water vapor with garlic.

The vampire felt weak immediately--his senses failing him as he was overwhelmed by the powerful scent. The monster fell to his knees, gasping for breath, and in the enemy’s moment of weakness, the hunter appeared beside him like a phantom and drove a stake down through the top of his shoulder. The red-haired man kept pushing until he had buried it all the way down into the vampire’s heart. The vampire moaned in pain as his skin began to ignite around the oak stake and the hunter pulled the weapon free, allowing the fire to consume the vampire’s body as he turned to the last of them. The third man had been halfway through changing his body when the garlic mist hit his nose as well, and he was coughing when the hunter approached him.

“Who the hell are you?” the monster growled.

“The name’s Ellis Carter. Son of the late Christopher Carter. I believe a few of your friends in hell should know who we are.”

Ellis’ body seemed to disappear, fading into the dark of the alley like an illusion. As he walked out of the darkness behind the last man and slammed the stake through his back, the creature coughed violently, though it sounded eerily like laugher. Ellis left the tip of oak protruding from his chest as the man’s body was consumed by flames, leaving nothing but a smoldering skeleton. Ellis grabbed a shoddy burlap sack from a nearby trash can and began to toss the three fanged skulls into it, using one hand to sling the bag over his shoulder while the other gently gripped his cracked ribcage. He took one last drag of the cigarette and he immediately spit it out, choking and spluttering as he attempted to remove the taste of the burnt filter from his tongue.

“I know someone who would just love to meet you folks,” Ellis stated with a sigh as he began to walk back towards the main streets of Bristol. He needed to figure out if anyone else knew about the problem that this city was facing.

Everyone went about their business in the city, unaware of the dark backdrop that tainted their lives without ever touching them directly. This pleasant ignorance was what allowed them to ignore the street dwellers that went missing, or the neighbor that they never heard from again. ‘Well, it has nothing to do with me. I am sure someone will figure out where they’ve gone,’ they would say. Ellis snorted in disgust as he moved through the groups of people, the sack still slung over his shoulder. He felt throbs of pain issuing through his side, where he knew at least three of his ribs had been fractured. Nothing too serious, but enough to make his breathing that much more labored, and slipping through the crowds that much more difficult.

The burlap sack bounced off of a man’s shoulder and he stopped in the crowd to turn and shout at Ellis. However, by the time that the man was talking to him, Ellis was long gone, and he was left with his mouth half open as the crowd swept him away. Ellis grinned as he walked, holding the pack of pilfered cigarettes tightly. The man he had passed would notice when he got home that night that the cigarettes were missing. He would ponder where he possibly could have left them, but eventually he would pass it off to having left them at work. When he did not find them there, he would curse himself for being so forgetful and buy himself another pack. That was the way of the world now. Nothing held true value to people anymore. Everything could be replaced.

There were always at least two faces to a city. Bristol was no different--it has many. There was the section of town that you would bring your wife or woman of interest. This section of town had windows full of gleaming bobbles and restaurants with candles illuminating their mysteriously alluring interiors. It had little children running through the streets, avoiding horse carriages and laughing all the way, while their parents chased after them, their grins equally disarming.

Then there was the side of town that you wouldn’t bring anyone to. The side of town that you slunk off to alone at night. This place would have windows full of old newspaper clippings and boards. It would have restaurants here and there, where the main food was liquid, and if you ate too much you ended up unconscious and robbed more blind than you were before you toppled over the curb into the street. It had children running through the streets, picking the pockets of anyone who didn’t seem to belong there, and laughing as they threw eggs at carriages and dawdled off to whatever alley had a warm barrel fire to sit by. Their parents were either dead or just didn’t have the money to support another mouth to feed. These streets were louder, dirtier, scarier, and most importantly of all: they were a hell of a lot more fun.

Ellis strolled through the filth that made up the western side of the city, the alleys seeming to grow narrower with each corner he rounded. However, the closer the walls got to each other, the louder the noises that came from the inevitable exit to the pathway. It was as if these back alleys and passageways were leading him to a new place altogether, outside of the great walls of Bristol. He exited the stretch into a full blown street, a long time ago it probably had a designated name, like most others, but everyone just called it ‘Dead End Way’ now. It earned the name when the people of the slums had created a makeshift gate out of old trash and debris from broken homes and carriages to separate themselves from the ‘well off’ side of town. The gate would still function, sure, if you managed to clear a whole lot of crap out of the way first, but the city authorities and the people who lived in the Piss Paths were happy to keep it as it was. There weren’t many people from the east side of the city that wanted to see this side of things anyways.

The smell of urine was thick in the air as Ellis crossed the street to a few nods and shouts of acknowledgement from the people who he knew or who had heard stories about his demon hunts. None of them really believed that it was true, but everyone here needed something to gossip about while they watched their tankards empty and the room begin to spin. He made his way through the Piss Paths, following the gutters as far as they would take him before the lights went out and the pitch black streets became a maze to anyone who didn’t know where they were going. The first red light was located on the roof of an old broken down mill, long since put out of service for a better, more efficient company’s outpost across the harbor on the other side of the River Avon.

Ellis took a deep breath as he hopped onto a rusted out garbage bin and jumped to a low-hanging ladder, using his teeth to hold the burlap sack as he climbed. His ribs issued pins and needles up his side with each wrung passed. When he reached the roof of the old mill, the bright red light was flashing down on him as he took the sack out of his mouth and spat at the red-brown metal sheeting.

“I’m going to need to get checked out after that,” he muttered to himself as he walked along the precariously sloped roof until the next red light appeared in the distance. The beacon shined from the other side of a sealed alleyway that you could only reach by scaling the rooftops until you could bypass it.

He made it to the other side of the alley, and after almost an hour, and another solid thirteen red, flashing, indicators, he arrived at the part of town that not even most people from the Piss Paths knew about. This was the third face that Bristol donned. The face that few could see but many dreamed about, not knowing their fantasies were only a few blocks away. It was one of the few places for miles around that you could find such a diverse grouping of the stinking rich and even fouler poor. Here, you could see a man with a top hat and golden watch losing his money in a game of dice to a man with a four foot beard coated in things so questionable people stopped asking. You could see a child with more money than a retiree, and you could satisfy any desire that ever crossed your perverse mind.

However, in the midst of all the chaos and glorious gluttony, Ellis had only a single location that he wished to visit. The C**k’s Caper. It was--perhaps--the most well-known location in the red light district, and it brought people from every city around Bristol, as long as they knew someone on the inside that would let them in. The women were three things: sexy, shameless, and insatiable; they would do anything you wanted if you had the coin for it. As the haggard doors swung open they seemed to tilt and bang against each other as if they were threatening to fall off, but somehow never did. He strolled into the thick smoke from hundreds of lit cigars, and the clamor of countless flesh-hungry men drowned out the outside world.

A buxom woman strode toward him, lust glimmering in her eyes, though Ellis knew far before she reached him that her lust was for coin, not c**k. She slid an arm around his neck, pressing her breasts against him and cooing into his ear.

“You’re looking a little lonely, there, stud. I got a room with a king size bed and a queen size c**t if you want to get out of this racket.” Her lips traced along his ear, and her hand began to dive below his belt when Ellis grabbed her wrist with very little restraint, his other hand still dangling the sack of skulls beside him.

“Sorry sweetheart, but this jack doesn’t pay for his women,” he stated, his voice gruff, but playful all in the same time. He had never seen her before--that meant she was new. He could tell by the way the other girls glanced at them and chuckled behind their backs. They knew what the girl was in for.

Her cheeks flushed as she pulled away from him, snapping her arm back and holding her wrist, glaring at him in offense. “Probably some kinda queer,” she spat as she went to turn away.

Ellis whistled to get her attention as she walked away and she turned to glare at him one last time, though her flushed cheeks showed more interest than just money, now. As she turned to look his hand flashed forward and a golden light darted up into the air, spinning through the bright lit room. As any woman of her trade, she recognized the color of gold, but when she caught the piece with a coy smile, her hands tightened harder around it. The sharp edges of the ornate design that embellished the golden coin was something that every girl that worked at the Caper was forced to commit to memory, and it was obviously this woman’s first time actually seeing one.

“I didn’t mean to scare you off before, just having a bit of fun, love. Now, if you wouldn’t mind taking a rascal like me upstairs, I would truly love a round or two between the sheets with such a beautiful woman,” he stated, winking at her.

Even though she knew that it was just him playing his part, her cheeks remained a deep pink and she nodded shyly to him. Be it the glint in his green eyes or the flare of his bright red hair, she couldn’t tell what it was that stirred her so. “Of course, sir. I’ve a few tricks I’d love to show you,” she stated, being sure to say it loud enough for anyone around them to hear before grabbing his hand and walking him up the stairs.

“Great job training the new girl, ladies. I’ll be sure to let Raimey know you’ve done such an exemplary job on detailing your regular clientele,” Ellis whispered as he passed a group of the gossiping brothel workers.

“F**k you, Carter,” came the overwhelming response, and Ellis laughed as he followed his partner in crime up and into her bedroom.

When she closed the door behind them, Ellis smiled as he tossed her real gold this time. It was not a must, but he always felt better about himself, giving the women a little something. After all, they covered his a*s, and had to spend as long as it took him and Raimey to have their sit down pretending to f**k someone who wasn’t even there.

“What’s your name?” Ellis asked.

“It’s Rosalita, but everyone here just calls me Rose,” her voice shook with nervousness as she eyed the coins that he had thrown on the bed.

“Well, Rose. Thank you for your service, and keep up the good work. Tell your co-workers that they’re a bunch of b*****s and if they don’t tip you off when a Crusader comes in, next time, I’ll have their asses,” he stated with another wink.

She nodded meekly and smiled, her cheeks seemingly stuck in their bright red pigment as she picked up the pieces of gold from the bed and pocketed them. She thanked him as she lay down on the bed and began to issue soft moans, allowing the outsiders to hear well what ‘they’ were up to. Hell, if she had been any other kind of girl, Ellis might have been persuaded by those noises to grab a hold of her shoulder length brown hair and show her a good time after all. But, he had business to attend to, and he knew Raimey was a busy man. He walked over to the wall and he knocked on a panel of the wood, then another, waiting to hear the hollow thud as he got the right one. With one last heavy shove, the half-foot wide panel slid forward and to the side, revealing a switch that caused an entire section of the wall to slide out of the way, opening up into a spiral staircase leading down into the belly of the whorehouse.

The staircase was only wide enough to walk two people abreast, and it was so dimly lit that it would be no surprise if a few people had fallen to their early demise. At the end of the staircase there was a thick, oaken door with a massive crucifix that was bolted into it, reaching all four sides of the entrance. The center of the crucifix had a small hanging miniature cross as a knocker and Ellis grabbed hold of it and slammed it against the iron cross behind it. The bang was almost deafening in the closed quarters of the stairwell, and Ellis winced as he held one of his ears with his empty hand before a grumbling issued from behind the door.

“What the hell do you wan--” Raimey began to bellow as he swung the door open to see Ellis standing there. “Oh! It’s you! Well, I certainly didn’t expect you back so soon! Did your search in Bath yield anything interesting?”

“As a matter of fact, it did. They’ve begun tearing down Bath Abbey, and all sorts of unsavory types have begun to move in on it. It’s going to take a whole lot more than just me to crack that case open.”

“Tearing it down?” Raimey exclaimed, sitting down in his leather chair with a loud whump. “They’ve known that building has been a s**t-hole for years. Why tear it down now? It’s been there since Christ hisself was walking on water.”

“I’d ease down the blasphemy before he comes and walks all over your dead body instead.”

“Right. Well, if that’s a bust, what do you have for me?”

Ellis slammed the burlap sack onto Raimey’s desk and one of the vampire’s skulls came tumbling out onto it, while the others seemed to hide in the darkness of the sack--afraid of the candlelight. Raimey grabbed the skull that had fallen out and he palmed it in his grizzled, old hands. His bushy moustache quivered as he looked at it and he looked back to Ellis. “It’s still warm.”

“Astute observation, my dear old man. Because I just found this pack of wolves hiding in our streets, feeding off of our people not a hundred yards away from Main Street.”

Raimey breathed a sigh as he sat back in his chair and his hand stroked across his bald scalp, entering the thick gray hair that lined the sides and back of his head. “Well, I’ll be damned. I haven’t heard of them getting this far into the city as of late.”

“And that’s not the worst of it either, Raimey. Two of the b******s had complete control over their muscular and bone structures. One of them got to the point where he was another foot taller and built like a brick shithouse. These weren’t just hungry vamps, they were scouts on a mission. They said that something was coming. A force that we’ve never seen that is going to drink our planet dry.”

“Oh bollox. You know how they are. Always the prophecy of doom and destruction with those types,” Raimey stated with a dismissive wave.

Ellis eyed the man with scrutiny for a moment, but he let the comment pass. “Aye, and I would side with you on that one any other day, but I think something is going on. It might not be here and now, but it is close, and it is coming. I can feel it as sure as my father felt it before they came for his head. Have you heard of anything at all?”

Raimey seemed to stroke his chin pensively for a good, long, while before he heaved a sigh and he looked at Ellis in the eye. “Damnit, alright. I heard that there’s bad business in Whitehall. A group of radicals out there been talking about demons and the like, but nobody knows exactly where they are. You’d spend weeks scouring the area if you really wanted to find anything.”

“Great. Sounds really promising.” Sarcasm dripped from each word that came out of his mouth. “Well, if you can afford to pay me, I’ll stick around a while and deal with the problems around Bristol, but I’m not taking less than fifty gold pieces a head.”

“Fifty!? Are you mad? I’ll give you twenty five.”

“Forty.”

“Twenty-eight.”

“Forty-five. I can keep playing this game if you like.”

“Thirty.”

“Forty.”

Raimey scrunched up his face in frustration as he slammed the skull back into the bag with the other two and he hurled the sack of them at the back of the room. “Fine, you miserly little s**t. Put me out of business why don’t you. If you weren’t a damn Crusader I wouldn’t give you a quarter of that.”

“Well, then, I suppose it’s a good thing that you’ve hired reliable help, then isn’t it.” The grin on his face would evoke most men to just punch him in the nose, but Raimey knew that Ellis was just a go get ’em type. He came on strong, but in the end he always meant well.

“Alright, kid. If you want info on where to find the fangs in Whitehall, there’s only one person I’ve heard of that has details on where they are. But, there’s a catch. He’s on the other side of the river, and he’s been prisoned in an old asylum. It’d be easy enough if that was all there was to it, but apparently this place has been out of business for decades. The only people who know the damn thing exists have been dead for years, or have long since forgotten where it is, save for ‘in the woods’. ‘Parently the vamps have locked up one of their own for not cooperating with their plans in Whitehall. They thought that he’d rot there for the rest of his miserable days, but if you can get to him, you might just be able to get some more concrete facts on where his friends are hiding out.”

“Okay…but even if you know he’s there, how exactly do we find out how to get there?”

“Hold yer damn horses, I was just getting’ to that part. There was a scholar of some kind that frequented the asylum during its last years in business. His journal has been kept here in Bristol’s library, and it is the only way you’re going to find your way to that building. It’s not much, but it’s something.”

“Well, it’s definitely more than we had before, so I’ll take it.”

“Good. Now get the hell out of my office, and don’t come back unless you’re dying…or have something worth my while.”

Ellis quirked a brow at the man as he stood there, folding his arms across his chest.

“What?” Raimey asked, furrowing his brows as he looked at the young hunter.

Ellis motioned to the bag of skulls with his eyes and Raimey rolled his own and sighed.

“Fine, fine. You win. Here’s your money, now get the hell out of here,” he growled, slamming a bag of coins on the table.

Ellis smiled as he palmed the coins and then he looked around the room really quickly as he remembered the equipment he had used. “Before I go,” he started as he looked about. “I could use a few more of those garlic mist grenades if you have any.”

Raimey smirked as he looked at him and nodded. “Well, now you’re talking my language, boy. For thirty gold coins a piece I can get you a couple, if you like.”

“I’ll take two.” Ellis dumped the coins out on the table and he divvied half of them off to the side, keeping the sixty left over and stuffing them back into the bag as Raimey put down two more of the silver vials for Ellis to grab. Ellis nodded and he took his rewards as he walked toward the exit.

“And, Ellis,” Raimey called, causing Ellis to turn and look over his shoulder. “Be careful, out there, alright?”

Ellis wanted nothing more than to chide the older man for his sentimentality, but something in Raimey’s eyes made him bite his tongue. He nodded as he turned around, and he gnawed on his lip, trying to figure out what the man was so worried about as he climbed the stairs. Rose was still going about her business when he came back up through the wall, and he smiled kindly at her as he slid the secret door closed behind him. He began to groan alongside her, and as he raised his voice, she followed suit until they were crying out in false orgasm together. He undid his pants and he splashed some water on his face and hers before they left, her hair a mess and him doing up his belt and zipping his pants as he walked down the stairs to the sound of people cheering for them.

He was almost sad to see the doors close behind him as he made his way back out into the streets. It was time for him to put his weapons down and hit some books for a change.

Oh joy.

Author's Note

Alright, so this second chapter has had a good few changes put into place during my period of revision and further plot development that has set me in motion to really begin digging in deep with the book.
So, if you have read it, I implore you to re-read or you might just miss a few things that will be important later on in the story. As always, this is a work in progress, and I know it might be moving slowly right now, but it is definitely going to pick up speed. I hope you will follow along and leave your comments as I go. It would be greatly appreciated. Thank you all for reading.