The Forest Bull (24 page)

             
“Did you notice anyone else who came in with them? Anyone on the edges, a bodyguard, maybe?” I was quizzing Blue about Elizabeth’s trips to the Corral. She paused, thinking. I could hear a floor buffer in the background, meaning she was at the club early. It wasn’t quite nine in the morning, an uncivilized hour to be holed up in a garish nudie bar, even if it was your primary source of income.

             
“I hire a lot of one-and-done girls, they’ll work a shift and I don’t see them again. There have been three who stood out, only because they were really fresh faced, model pretty . . . they seemed cut from a different cloth, you know? They all applied in the morning before we opened, sober, clean, friendly. It was hard to say no to them. I gave ‘em a shot, all three vanished. Two of them were hired the day before Elizabeth showed. How’s that for coincidence?” The floor buffer whined to a stop. The silence in the phone was jarring.

             
“I’ll be right over. I have a present for you. Something you just can’t do without.” Blue chuckled low and told me to keep my shirt on. I would, but only because it was part of my plan, and I don’t do nudity without proper enticement. I’m cheap, but not free.

             
I didn’t wait long, considering. On the second day, with Wally and Risa watching through cameras in the Corral’s office, a hopeful applicant walked in, paying me no attention and walking straight towards Blue, who sat at the bar, eating takeout and assembling the liquor order. My earpiece buzzed
is that her
in a small, tinny voice. I nodded once and bent back to my task as a young woman shook Blue’s hand confidently before taking a seat. She was dressed in jeans and a white shirt, her honey-blonde hair pulled back from a face with high cheekbones, naturally beautiful and abuzz with confidence. She reminded me of a European version of Wally, although she seemed a bit less likely to point a gun at someone in traffic. Call it a hunch. After a few moments of quiet conversation, punctuated by mutual laughs, she stood, shook Blue’s hand again, and walked past me without even acknowledging my presence, just as I had hoped. I continued mopping, even, long strokes, back and forth. Blue wasn’t paying me, but I wanted her gift of free labor to be worth her while. Any task worth doing is worth doing well, especially if it’s for the owner of a club crowded with nude women. I know who butters my bread.

             
Blue brandished a paper application at me. “Meet my newest employee, Petra. Lovely girl. I told her that she could start tonight, but, because my net is down for repair, I can’t check references until Monday. She was kind enough to give me three. Fancy a peek?” She was triumphant and deserving of an award. She really knew how to think on her feet. I took the application as her office door opened and the girls came spilling out to join in our exposition.

             
“Well, looky, looky. A name we know and two we don’t. Christmas is early.” I handed the sheet to Risa, who held it up for Wally to see.
Stacia
.
Karolina
.
Elizabeth
. Three of the most beautiful names I’d ever seen put to paper.

             
“We must search these names this afternoon and be back here, ready, tonight. Flats, not heels. I think we are fighting.” Wally relished a good brawl ,but only in proper footwear.

             
Restless and nervous, we hovered in each other’s way throughout the afternoon, even to the point that Gyro went outside to seek a quiet place to nap. Our only diversion was a delivery from Jim, a heavy envelope brought by courier that could only be the results of his search for weapons to fit the girls’ hands. For now, they could wait, because Wally stalked out into the living room clad only in her underwear. She was either confused or pissed, emotions which have an interchangeable role for her.

             
“After we handle that woman tonight, what about the Baron? Have we made plans for him, or his staff? What if they are human, after all?  Are we putting them in the way of harm?” She had a point. We were waging a war on two continents. With immortals, there was no after, there was only an end. Humans, who might be innocent? It was a new consideration for us and a moral issue that we had not encountered.

             
Risa shook her head. “Cazimir is a ghost. His staff, unknown, beyond glimpses of Ilsa and . . . Sandor, is it? I think that’s the name he used once. We don’t really even know how many people are in his home. Short of visiting, which is insanity until this is over, I don’t know how to help them. I’m open to suggestions. I don’t want innocents to die, not after all the murder that has gone unchecked for so long.” Her humanitarian side was well developed, and she took the ethical breach of murder seriously. “Let’s consider the red flags here. Cazimir Byk, keeper of forest bulls, tinkerer, and possibly Satan. Am I on track so far?”

             
“His last name
does
mean bull or something like that” Wally explained. “It could be taken as he is the master of bulls, the master of the horned beasts of the forest. Or maybe this man
is
the horned beast in the forest, but I have a problem with that.”

             
I agreed. And I was dubious about something so obvious in a tapestry of half-truths, lies, and partial answers. “We’re thinking only in modern terms if we assume that Satan is some horned beast. The notion of an evil being goes far back before the Church arrived.” I pointed at Risa. “No eye rolling, I know what I’m saying. You’re not the only historian, and I’m at least as versed in Catholicism as you are, Wally, and I don’t ogle the priest, either.” They both looked slightly abashed, but only a bit. “This character, Satan--who can say if he has horns? Or is real? This isn’t some cartoonish creation from the minds of puritanical apologists who were busy making women into crones to subvert their power in the early Church.”

             
“I hate admitting you’re right. And a feminist, apparently.” Risa patted my arm patronizingly as Wally clapped. My depths are underappreciated, even by the loves of my life. “The Baron likes giant cows that live in the depths of a European forest. So what? It doesn’t mean he’s some evil warlord, does it? We know Delphine wants Elizabeth gone. We know that they think of their positions as fluid. Why not women? Why not one of them, trying to play on us, on Ring, and get us off balance, confused. But lethal to whomever they choose to direct us towards, by lies. False trails.”

             
“The Prince of Lies may be the Princess of Lies, right?” I was open to it. After seeing what Sandrine could do, I was ready to believe anything.

             
Risa disagreed, I could tell before she spoke. “Let’s stop thinking about an immortal as having gender. Think about their disguise as camouflage adapted to their situation. Ring, you’re our muscle. The killer, the final step. What appeals to you?”

             
“You mean other than Delphine’s tits?” I ducked Wally’s punch, but Risa clipped me on the shoulder. I had it coming. “Okay, seriously. Anyone could look at us and see what I crave. I’m living a life anyone would be jealous of. I have the physical, the mental, emotional satisfaction, too. Leisure time, income. I have it easy, except for the whole immortals-trying-to-kill-me thing. But aren’t you making the same assumption that we made about Satan, just applying it to me? That, because I’m an incredibly desirable, virile male, all I would want is physical pleasure in the form of beautiful women? Who is being predictable now?” I raised a brow at Risa.

             
Sighing, she got up from the table. “I’m not suggesting that immortals are always that subtle. Not at all. Let me ask you, what did you find intriguing about your flirtation with Suma? Or better still; tell us what made you so enthusiastic about engaging in play with Delphine? Other than her tits, of course.” Wally snickered at my discomfiture, but I considered the question.

             
“The thrill? With Suma, the forbidden nature of it, maybe, because of Boon and Pan? Maybe the same reasons for Delphine. Like a sexual chess match where I knew I was badly outplayed before I sat down at the table, but I thought that there was more to it than just, I don’t know, withstanding her onslaught, her experience? So that we would win?” There was more to this than I could articulate. I could feel it.

             
“What about us?” Wally asked. “Did thinking about us make it dangerous?”

             
Saying yes meant that I had considered far more than just their ire at my connection with Delphine or how I would react to Elizabeth or any other women connected with Cazimir. The truth was I had, and my face told of it.

             
Honesty first, I decided. “Of course I had. I couldn’t deny that line of thinking. I mean, what if I didn’t come home as the same man? Would we still have a home? I didn’t want to admit my own weakness. Not fear, just uncertainty. I didn’t know if I could be changed beyond recognition, and, if that happened and neither of you were there, would you be left behind? How could we turn back the clock?”

             
Wally was standing next to me now. I could feel her possessiveness like a firm grasp on my arm. “I do not think you understand how much we already have changed, Ring. We are closer, yes? So, how could you be pulled away from us if we are holding on that much tighter? I do not think that we need to worry about this Elizabeth or Delphine or even the Baron in his lonely outpost. I think that they need to start worrying about us.”

             
Risa nodded, forcefully. “We’ve already taken the fight to them, and, now, we will meet Elizabeth. If she is not the end, then we find Karolina or Stacia. Maybe we visit the forest one day. But don’t worry about losing us because we aren’t worried about losing you, okay?”

             
It was just the right tonic for me. I knew we were on solid ground and that my risks were physical, not emotional. At heart, I am a soldier, and we always fight better knowing we can go home. It was time to go to the Corral. It was time to close the circle. We would leave with Elizabeth, or she would be leaving in a torrent of blue motes. The choice would be hers.

             
This time, my knife stays close
. I was going into friendly ground, and I meant to be armed, in position, and ready. All on my own terms. Delphine taught me a valuable lesson about beautiful distractions. I would not repeat the mistake, no matter what manner of flesh drifted across my line of sight. We were collectively ensconced in the Corral before the post work throng began to fill every spare seat. And, occupy every girl. Petra emerged from the back, attired in a tuxedo vest that barely covered her small, high breasts. A thong hugged her bottom and displayed her legs for maximum effect. If she was trying to make money, she would need a dump truck to carry it away, but her purpose lay elsewhere. For an acting job, it wasn’t bad, I decided, as I watched her navigate the sexual minefield of handsy mechanics, attorneys and other nameless men who reached for her with each pass. Her attention was split between her surroundings and the door, which meant that we were in the right place at the right time.

             
Elizabeth walked in like a wall of ice--beautiful, impenetrable, and frigid. I had sorely undersold her magnetism and beauty because, even in the dim light of the club, she glittered with the light of an approaching star. She was magnificent in the same way I can admire a sword, or a falcon, or a stalking cat. Her purpose, to anyone who would look closely, was clear, and her design, flawless. She flowed onto a stool and motioned once to the bartender, who was instantly at her service. The seat next to her was conveniently empty, and Petra had gone to the front, called by Blue upon seeing my movement towards the bar.

             
Risa and Wally watched from the office, silent save their breathing in my earpiece. There was no need for talking now, only me, and the decision before me. Kill her here, or elsewhere under a pretense I would create. I had little faith in my ability to charm the devil, so I took two steps across the carpet, negotiating an oblique path to her side.

             
Elizabeth then quelled any notion I had of being her equal in that moment. Turning to me, across the crowd, she patted the stool next to her and waved me over, playfully, without fear, totally aware of my intent before I had formed my plan in my own mind. Her prescience was disturbing, her mockery complete, but I went to her and took a seat next to the mistress who seemed to know entirely too much about my own thoughts.

             
I sat without greeting as she poured champagne for me and herself, tapping our glasses together in solidarity. I was too stunned to drink, but she smiled and implored me.

             
“Taste the wine, Ring. It’s excellent. Not the usual fare for such a colorful purveyor as your friend, Blue.” The layers of her knowledge seemed limitless after that simple invitation. I proceeded carefully.

             
“I won’t insult you by reaching for my knife, but it is most certainly close enough for me to use if I feel pressured. You’re visiting my friend’s establishment, and, more importantly, my home. What can I do for you, Elizabeth?” I asked as I sipped. She was right; the wine was crisp.

             
She focused on me, turning in her seat. Her charisma was nearly oppressive, despite her cool reserve. She said, “You have to imagine my confusion over your predicament. On the one hand, you’re helping a seemingly caring father who seeks to return his heir to her place at his side. And, along the way, you’ve been asked to bring his collection of baubles, which is scattered to the winds, but still manages to end up in your hands by some twist of fate. Then, there is the jealous sister, a jumped-up streetwalker whose accent and concept of taste are both, let’s say- -recently acquired. Her framing of me as the penultimate evil is petty, but not unforeseen. She has quite a taste for men, doesn’t she?
And
a truly dreadful collection of occupations over the centuries, but always returning to her roots as a camp whore, on her knees in smoky tents for bread and protection. You’ve been asked to kill me based on what evidence, may I ask?” Elizabeth was composed and in good humor, both of which made me nervous.

             
“I don’t care about Delphine. She isn’t new to me, just a different name, a different accent, but always the same greed accompanied by the same pride. No, I find myself having a difficult time not killing you because of three little acorns. The ones that you seeded me with, that nearly killed me? Those make me so much less forgiving. In fact, my good manners are nearly extinguished, just like you will be soon because of something as simple as a good, old-fashioned murder attempt on your part. Unfortunately for you, my resistance is quite high, even to such unusual methods as you used. So you see, Elizabeth, despite the fact that you’ve given me this truly lovely wine,” and I saluted her with my glass, “I find that I’m not in the forgiving mood tonight.”

             
Pouting was not her style. Her eyes took on a steelier shade, and she held out her phone to me, the image causing me to stop short of reaching for my knife.

             
Suma.
She was spread-eagle on a table, nude, with livid red marks on her stomach and thighs. I could guess what from, and my stomach flipped, curdling with impotent rage. Bile hit my tongue, and I sat very still, waiting for the moment to stabilize until the floating motes in my sight drifted away and I could once again focus on Elizabeth’s perfectly beautiful, evil face. I examined the picture again. On a chair next to Suma crowded two knives, their blades dull and smeared. An ashtray, with cigarette butts strewn about it, and a lighter. In the picture was a new player in our ugly drama--female, tall, thin, with long dark hair and intelligent eyes. She was waving shyly at the camera.
You caught me!
  Her casual embarrassment was jarring, given the background of Suma.

             
Elizabeth tucked the phone in her purse, watching me for motion. It was the first reasonable thing she had done since arriving because I was on a knife edge and leaning towards killing her right there.

“Ring, I’m afraid we’ve started our discussion
on a sour note. I apologize for inconveniencing your friend, but I had to guarantee that you would listen to reason.”

             
“Reason?” I was apoplectic. I shook in my seat, my hands on the bar and the skin of my knuckles ghost-white. She was so close to her end.

             
“Let me say something once, and I want you to remember this when I leave here tonight-and I will leave, no matter your plans for my demise. I am
not
who, or what, you think I am. I am a woman who is surrounded with a family that diverged from this world long ago. I am made from their thread, but I am not of their cloth. Remember that when you try to kill me, won’t you? Now, on to other matters. I can see by your reaction that I’ve misjudged your opinion about asserting my safety. When I am in my car, safe, I will make one call. One. Suma will be freed. She will call you immediately, and Karolina will help her to her vehicle, to come home to you and her family.” She rose, brushed her lips over my stony face and patted my hand. “A good friend knows when to let pride lose a battle. Let’s hope you are a true friend to Suma. Goodbye, Ring. Leave my family alone, or don’t. The choice is yours, but know that, eventually, you are going to lose to an undying soul who will
not
kill you, and then you will begin to understand what real sacrifice can be.”

Even in the clatter of the bar, her heels sounded like the nails in my coffin, pounding with mockery at my weakness as
Suma, Suma, I am sorry, forgive me
looped in my head, unending and without care for my shame.

We sat in my truck, mute. Risa and Wally waited for some sign from me that I was going to take action, but I was paralyzed with my failure. Watching Elizabeth leave the Corral unmolested was close to castration for me, but watch her I did, hating every step she took with a ferocity borne of fear. A moment later, my phone rang.
Elizabeth
.

             
“Ring, I’m sending you a picture. Pay attention to detail this time, and I’ll see you soon, I’m sure. A storm is coming to your home, which means trouble for my family.” She delivered this news as fact.

             
“Does this picture have anything to do with Suma’s freedom? Because if it doesn’t . . . ,” I let the threat hang, no matter how empty.

             
Elizabeth laughed, patronizing and cold. “You fear someone who you have already dispatched. A slip on your part, to be sure, but understandable, given your excitability. I may choose to travel soon, since it will shortly become very unpleasant here. Or don’t you pay attention to the weather? I would think a mariner like you would at least be aware of an oncoming hurricane, which causes such problems with my family’s dinner plans. So many tourists taking wing, it makes other venues seem more attractive. Batten your hatches, Ring. Perhaps we’ll talk before I leave.”

             
With a click, she was gone. I looked at the image she sent to my phone, closely. It was the same scene as she had shown me in the Corral. Suma, a victim. Karolina, the torturer. There were two small differences. My stomach fell a thousand yards, crushed by the deception of the picture.

             
“What is it?” Risa asked, as Wally leaned in from the back seat.

             
“Suma. Her hand. I’m such a fucking idiot, look at her hand! Elizabeth won, and I didn’t even fight her.” I handed my phone to Risa, burying my head in my hands, awash with relief and anger. Suma was fine. Safe, and had been all along. The picture showed a woman with a hand that was slightly deformed, cast in shadow, a single extra knuckle pushing outward due to a momentary loss of control. It was not Suma in the image.
Finn
, who was now ashes in the water, dead by my hand. The scene was staged by Elizabeth, no doubt days before I discovered Finn’s true nature. She used the picture as a trump card, knowing that we would tighten our noose around her neck, but fear for Suma’s life would cut the rope clean.

             
And I let Elizabeth walk past me to safety, freed by a lie.