Page 32 of The Fury She Holds
The thug must have been living in squalor for weeks. The beginnings of a beard covered his usually clean-shaven face, and his greasy salt-and-pepper hair stuck out at odd angles. His blue suit was unrecognizable. Scrapes and cuts covered his exposed skin. He breathed heavily, clutching the wound as blood seeped through his fingers.
“Looks like you haven’t got much time,” Tal said matter-of-factly.
“They’ll find you sooner or later,” he rasped.
Tal rolled her eyes. “Are you going to share who these friends of yours are, or should I open up that side pocket a little more?” She gestured to the wound.
Duncan grimaced. “Mages,” he said with difficulty. “They wear dark cloaks with the hood pulled up.”
“Have you seen their faces?” Carrick pushed off the wall and took two steps into the alley.
Duncan nodded.
“How many?” Tal crossed her arms.
“I don’t know. I don’t know!” he repeated frantically when Tal stepped closer, her knife aimed at his wound. “There was a new one every time—always one of their creations.”
“How long did Pochette know about them?” Copper filled her nostrils and Tal flicked blood off her knife. If Duncan spoke the truth, she had no way of knowing how many mages were involved. She knew nothing about her enemy.
“Since he started at the docks, but they’ve been here longer,” Duncan replied, his voice weak. His skin paled, and blood pooled beneath him.
Tal narrowed her eyes at the new development. “Why haven’t they made their presence known until now?”
“Biding their time.” Duncan slouched against the wall, and his hand fell to the ground, unable to press against the wound. He didn’t have long.
She changed up her line of questioning. “Where did you meet them? Where can we find them?”
“Everywhere. They come to you.” His speech began to slur.
“No hideouts? No underground crypts to hold prisoners?” Faron spoke this time.
Duncan offered a sardonic smile. “If there were any, the only ones who knew about them are dead,” he said darkly, and his body slumped the rest of the way to the ground. He breathed heavily, closing his eyes against the pain in his side.
Tal swore. If she thought she could get any more information, she would have attempted to save the criminal, but he didn’t even have ten minutes. She knelt beside his head and whispered, “You’re getting what’s coming to you, Duncan. The families you’ve stolen from, the women you’ve kidnapped and raped, the people you’ve sent floating down the Taralin, your punishment is nigh. Save a seat at the fiery table for me.”
When he took his last breath, Tal wiped her knife on his sleeve and stood as she placed it back in its sheath.
“I take it you two knew each other.” Faron used his sword to gesture to the body.
She turned to him then, noting his height and how tightly his leather suit hugged his muscular frame. She swallowed. “He was the bodyguard of a crime lord here at the docks. We had a few run-ins over the years.”
“And this crime lord?”
“Sent to the hells.”
Faron paused for a moment. “I would ask how he met his undoing, but I have a feeling I’m looking at her.”
“Pochette reigned over the docks for decades. He stole, kidnapped, raped, murdered, you name it. His power and money kept eyes off him. He got less than he deserved.”
The hooded figure nodded in response. His reaction gave away none of his thoughts on the matter, but she felt no remorse over her part in Pochette’s demise. She only wished it had happened sooner. Life in the docks had hardened her against that sort of thing.
“I have some news,” Faron interrupted the silence. “Is there somewhere we can talk?”
The three of them sat at a table in the back of a tavern near the south entrance of the tunnels. Faron grabbed an ale for each of them plus two more and sat opposite Tal and Carrick. His hood still concealed his face from other patrons, but Tal could see him clearly. Carrick insisted that Tal take the inside seat, and she rolled her eyes, but chose not to argue. She grabbed the ale from Faron and curled her hands around it, not sure she wanted any tonight. Her fury roiled in her chest, and she had plans to release it.
Tal eyed the two pints yet unspoken for, but Faron jumped right to business. “A servant girl at the palace went missing.”
Carrick nodded. “We’re aware. She never showed up for the king’s masquerade yesterday.”
