The Scarecrow (Master of Malice Book 1) (32 page)

Seth just stared at him, disconcerted by the comment’s accuracy, although its meaning differed from his thought. The vagrant grinned wider. “Shoes?”

Seth pointed to the bundle. The girl dived for it, fishing out a pair of green satin court shoes. They were slightly too small, but she didn’t care. She tottered gleefully about the room in the high heels in a grotesque parody of a lady’s proud walk. It was as much as Seth could do to watch her and he was surprised at himself. He would never have thought he would care so much about the casual profaning of the social world he served.

The vagrant sifted through the material that had wrapped the gown and shoes. “Didn’t you bring any jewelry, man?”

The whore paused in her mime, her mouth falling open.

Seth glared at him. “I couldn’t get them without her noticing. You said to bring what she’d normally wear, but she always wears the same jewels. Most of them she never takes off, except to sleep.”

His companion dismissed Seth’s ire. “No matter, we can deal with that later.”

The whore flounced away, pouting.

“Stand still, girl,” the vagrant snapped, and she left off her posturing. He turned to Seth. “What do you think? Would she pass?”

Seth was still unsure of the charade’s ultimate purpose, but answered as best he could. “Her height and build are about right, and her hair’s the right color and length. If someone who didn’t know Jinella well saw this girl from the back—standing still—they might mistake her for the mistress. But no one who knows her would. It certainly wouldn’t fool that lover of hers. Not even from a distance. Her face is nothing like.”

The vagrant sneered. “I’ve already told you the face doesn’t matter. A general likeness is what we’re after, and it seems we’ve achieved that. Well then, on to the next stage.”

A peculiar expression came over the vagrant’s face and Seth’s stomach lurched. He felt uncomfortable, unsure what would be expected of him. He backed away a few steps, nearer the door.

The vagrant indicated the bed. The whore turned toward it, flouncing the gown’s skirt with her hands. The room was shabbily furnished, the carpeting worn and grimy, the distemper on the walls stained and damp. In contrast, the big bed was amply draped with sheets and blankets and, although faded and thin, they appeared relatively clean. A profusion of limp pillows, their covers marred by faded stains, lay at the head of the bed and the girl leaned back against them, stretching seductively on the creaking mattress. She pushed the gown’s wide neck farther down her shoulders to expose the junction of her breasts, and slowly slid the silky skirt higher up her legs, showing what was meant to be tantalizing glimpses of thigh. She smiled invitingly.

Seth’s heart beat uncomfortably fast; not with the stirrings of desire, which he definitely didn’t feel, but with the wary anticipation of what the vagrant might expect of him. He had no wish to explain himself in front of a whore, not least because it would be all around the brothel after they left. And now the filthy wastrel was turning to him, a nasty little smile quirking his lips.

“Well, my friend? Do you want her first?”

Seth’s eyes flicked to the undesirable flesh the girl flaunted. The sight of her grimy thighs and the tangle of hair between them did nothing to decrease Seth’s discomfort. He glanced back at his ragged companion, desperate for some excuse to refuse.

The man grinned savagely; his strange eyes alight with a faint ruby glow. Seth recoiled from the malice they contained.

“Oh, don’t worry, Seth!” The vagrant’s voice crawled sinuously from his mouth, altered, echoing. “I know your desires aren’t slaked by the likes of her. I know exactly what pleasures
you
enjoy! So you can relax and leave this to me. I’ll need your help again later, but for now your part is done.”

The charnel stench flooded the room, causing even the hardened whore to gag. The vagrant turned away from Seth and climbed atop the girl on the bed, his knees pushing between her wide-flung legs. She was still half-propped against the pillows and he leaned over her, a hand to either side of her head. She closed her eyes when he bent down as if to kiss her, but instead he whipped one of the pillows from behind her neck and slammed it hard over her face, holding it firmly.

Seth gasped as the girl struggled, her desperate, muffled cries dimly heard through the pillow. Her arms flailed wildly, tried to prize the pillow from her face, but her tormentor was too strong. Her legs kicked out, but she could do no more than batter his unresponsive flanks with her heels, unable to gain purchase on his body. Grinning all the while, he hung on until her struggles slowed.

Seth watched open-mouthed, appalled and frightened. Whatever he had imagined the vagrant wanted with Jinella’s clothing and jewelry, dressing a whore and then murdering her hadn’t figured anywhere in his conjecture. He stared dumbly as the man leaned on the pillow, his eyes glinting red and his lips fixed in a mindless grin.

Once all movement ceased he raised the pillow, tossing it carelessly to the floor. He glanced at Seth, a sardonic twist to his mouth, and climbed off the creaking bed, leaving the whore limp and straddle-legged.

“Well, my friend? Now’s your chance to see what you’ve been missing. Want to try her out? You never know, you might like it. Don’t worry, I won’t say anything to Nolah if you’re not quite up to the job. And it’s not as if
she’ll
tell any tales, is it?” He hooked his thumb at the lifeless whore.

Seth, aghast, stared at the grinning wastrel, disgusted to his very soul. The cold-blooded murder was shocking enough, but the filthy man’s suggestion, seriously meant, appalled Seth even more. He wouldn’t put it past the fellow to carry out the act himself.

“How could you—” He choked with disgust, unable to express his revulsion. Sickened, he turned away from the vagrant’s mocking laughter, wondering what he had let himself in for. He just prayed he would come out of it alive.

+ + + + +

“W
hat do you mean by accosting us like this? Where’s my coachman? How dare you waylay us! What the
hell
do you think you’re doing?”

Sir Regus tried his best, but it was only bravado. The situation was hopeless and the best he could hope for was a courageous showing in front of his lady. He had to make a gesture in defense of her honor.

The brigands could tell there was no steel behind his bluster. He waved his belt knife, but it was as blunt as a spade and held no edge. Even had it been sharp—even had it been a sword—Sir Regus knew he wouldn’t have impressed these hardened ruffians.

They ignored his posturing and loped around the coach, eyeing its rich fabrics and gold trimmings while their leader stood nonchalantly at the opened door. He pointed the tip of his sword at Sir Regus’s ample chest.

“Get down.”

Sir Regus couldn’t think of a reason to disobey. He had already given up on what gold he had left, as well as his and his wife’s jewelry, but he still had hope for their lives. The brigands’ faces were hidden beneath cavernous hoods, which implied their victims might be allowed to live if they gave no trouble. As far as Regus was concerned, penury was a better option than death. He got down.

“You too, Madam.”

Lady Corina opened her mouth to scream, but caught sight of her husband’s warning glance. She was trembling and fearful, but not yet hysterical. She was also intelligent enough to realize what her husband was doing. Furious and terrified though she was, she managed some semblance of dignity as she climbed from the carriage. She spurned the mocking hand extended to help her, looking scornfully from its filthy skin and ragged nails directly into its owner’s hooded eyes.

Sir Regus caught his breath. The brigands’ leader held Corina’s haughty gaze just long enough to see the pride falter, and turned away. Regus nearly fainted with relief.

“Search them.”

“You will
not
!”

The ruffian turned back at Corina’s shrill protest. “Lady, you will agree to be searched or you will be stripped. The choice is yours.”

Her mouth dropped open and Regus feared she would say something stupid. To forestall her, he reached for the limp pouch at his waist and pulled it free. He handed it to the nearest ruffian and then began removing his rings. He stared meaningfully at his wife until the set of her mouth relaxed and he knew the danger was past. She lowered her eyes and raised her hands to the diamond necklace at her throat.

The ruffian leader looked satisfied as he crouched to survey the small pile of gold and jewels. Another pile consisted of clothing, although he hadn’t carried out his threat to strip them. It was fearfully cold now and full darkness wasn’t far off. It wasn’t part of his instructions that they should freeze to death before they reached the city gates, so he had left them the basics. He glanced up as they stood shivering before him.

“It’s awful cold. I’d move about a bit if I were you. The walk back’ll warm you up. Come on, lads, someone get up on that coach. Those beasts’ll fetch a tidy sum and we’ll have us a cozy place to sleep tonight.”

Sir Regus gaped incredulously as the coach pulled away. The remaining brigands mounted their horses and he ran to their leader angrily. “Here, man, you can’t abandon us out here! Surely you don’t expect us to make our own way back to the city? My wife can’t possibly walk all that way!”

One of the ruffians gave a derisive snort. “Why not? She got two legs, ain’t she?”

The leader scratched his neck. “It’s not so far, and walkin’s good for you. Like I said, it’ll warm you up. Better get goin’ if you want to get there before nightfall. And just you take care, milord; there’s some mighty rough folks about in these woods, don’t y’know!”

Sir Regus heard the echoes of their laughter long after they had vanished into the trees.

+ + + + +

B
y the time Seth recovered from the immediate shock of witnessing a murder, the vagrant had straightened the dead girl’s limbs and clothing. He looked down at her critically, and then nodded. “No marks.”

He turned to Seth. Catching the revulsion lingering in his eyes, he grinned. “What’s the matter, my servile friend? Too squeamish for the dirty work? Well, that’s a pity, for we’re not finished yet.”

He showed no sign of remorse and Seth was pale with fear and disgust. “You never said we were going to kill her!”

The vagrant sneered nastily. “Oh, and what did you think we were going to do with her once we’d dressed her in your mistress’s clothes? Invite her out to dinner? Take her dancing? For the gods’ sake, man, use your brains. I know some of the things
you
like doing, my friend, and you’re not above a bit of rough stuff yourself. So stop your sanctimonious carping and help me. We’re not done yet.”

Bending, he picked up the length of material Seth had used to wrap Jinella’s gown and shoes and tossed it casually over the dead girl’s body. He pushed the limp form roughly onto its stomach and wrapped the folds tightly around it. He shot Seth a look over his shoulder. “Come and carry this.”

Seth felt like refusing, but he was committed now, a witness and accessory to murder. And it wasn’t over yet. He was afraid he would be deeply involved in at least one more violent act committed this night, if not two. Drawing a deep breath, he moved to the bed and accepted the heavy, limp burden over his shoulder, ignoring the sardonic look in his companion’s red-rimmed eyes.

Without thinking, he asked, “How will we get out without being seen?”

“You do like asking stupid questions, don’t you?” The wastrel glared at him. “First, I’ve paid Nolah enough gold to murder and carry off half her girls without her complaining, and second, I chose this particular house of dubious pleasure for one very good reason. There’s a tunnel running under the city that leads from the yard of this building right out past the castle and into the edges of Loxton Forest.”

Seth gasped. “What? How do you know that?”

“Oh, for pity’s sake!” The vagrant was now thoroughly incensed. “I’d have had less trouble from that whore than I’m getting from you! What the master ever saw in you, I can’t imagine. How do you
think
I know about it? And if you can’t work it out, you can stay ignorant. Now we’ve still got work to do, so keep your mind on the job, do as you’re told, and
shut up
!”

Cowed and humiliated by the vagrant’s manner, Seth hitched the whore’s body higher on his shoulder and followed his companion, determined not to speak another word. The wastrel went to the door and turned the key, peering out into the deserted corridor before stepping out and beckoning to Seth. The manservant obeyed and his ragged companion closed the door behind them, relocking it and pocketing the key.

He led the way out the back of the brothel, emerging through a rickety stable door into a small yard, dark and dingy. He bent down to a wooden hatch set into the cobbled yard and heaved on a large iron ring bolted through the wood. The hatch came up easily and Seth saw a set of wooden steps leading down into stygian darkness below.

“Set her down and get on that ladder.”

Seth did so, treading carefully on the damp, slippery rungs. He soon reached the bottom and found the tunnel was barely high enough for him to stand upright. He stared up at the circle of sky above him and saw it vanish as the girl’s body was lowered toward him. He caught her and moved out of the way as his rank companion descended the steps, pulling the hatchway closed after him.

They stood in total darkness, Seth completely at the other’s mercy. He felt the wastrel push past him and start off down the tunnel. Not wishing to be left behind in this light-deserted place, he hurried to follow. As he did so his foot caught on something that gave, and he nearly fell. A frightened curse burst unbidden from his mouth, the awful events of the evening and an overactive imagination overcoming any caution he might have felt.

“What the hell is it now?” the wastrel hissed furiously, a disembodied voice in the dark.

“Caught my foot on something,” Seth mumbled, hearing the nervous waver in his own voice and hating himself for betraying it.