Unforgivable Read online

  “Apologies, my Lord for the interruption,” the voice of his manservant said from the doorway.

  Carter scowled at the disruption so close to climax. “This had better be important, Josiah!”

  “I would not bother you if it was not, my Lord.”

  Carter inhaled deeply, his hand leaving the warmth of his groin as he turned back to his desk. “Well, out with it damn it!”

  Josiah coughed nervously. “Yes of course, my Lord. I have just received word that Markel Jones is dead.”

  Carter’s brow rose. “Really? How did that come to pass?”

  “Apparently his house caught fire several nights ago and he did not manage to escape the flames in time - or at least that is what authorities have concluded.”

  “The fat bastard was most likely drunk out of his wits and passed out.” Carter chuckled mildly in amusement. “No matter, Markel was of little use to me anymore.”

  “There is more to it, my Lord,” Josiah quickly continued. “Rumor has it a cloaked figure was seen prying around the house before it went ablaze. Also, the body of a servant was found outside the house with half his skull cleaved in.”

  “So Markel had enemies, doesn’t surprise me, he was a slimy cur,” Carter countered, his tone growing annoyed at this apparent waste of his time.

  “Yes, my Lord, that is what I thought at first too. But word is several folks seen the battered figure coming from the south, from Ever-Dale, the night after…” He trailed off, not wishing to repeat the truth.

  Carter’s eyes widened slightly, but he quickly shook the thought away. “That is ridiculous, no one could have survived - it must be mere coincidence. Besides, Jamus Willms was a nobody - a meager dirt farmer. Definitely not a revenge seeking killer, I bet the man had to have his wife cut the head off the chickens he fed his family.”

  “Yes of course, my Lord,” Josiah replied. “I just thought it was information you would want to know, one way or another.”

  “Yes, well next time do not waste my time with rumors of dark prowling figures,” Carter snapped back, his eyes lingering back toward the window where Sofia still sat next to the pond. “I think I will go to the market tomorrow morning with the girl. I do not want to be bothered by the peasants, so be sure to arrange a suitable escort to ensure such a thing. I want to lavish our guest with a few gifts to brighten her spirits and draw her closer.”

  “Yes, my Lord - I will have it all arranged by morning,” Josiah replied, nearly choking on the words.

  The door closed and Carter went back to the window, but Sofia was making her way back to the manor’s back door. He cursed bitterly at her timing as he tried to calm the stirring in his loins. He would give her a few more days then he would bring her to his bed; if she accepted him he would be gentle - if not he would take her regardless, just like the others.

  Unforgivable

  Part Seven

  Dockyard Slums

  The slums of Tri-Dale City were a gloomy, wicked place; if you dropped your guard for an instant you could find yourself face-down in the mud with a dagger in your back. More than one such body littered the slums - picked clean of all they possessed until all that remained was a filthy, naked, emaciated corpse.

  The smell of human waste and unwashed bodies choked the air within the slums but Jamus and Barbra did their best to ignore the stench as they moved through the streets. They had been within the city walls for two days now. They were staying at a low class inn, being wise in the coin they flashed around so not to draw any unwanted attention.

  Their days were spent out within the crowd of the slums looking for someone who knew the whereabouts of Nathan Belmark. At the mention of the name most quickly turned and left without word or warned them to avoid the man at all costs. Finally, they had been approached by a filth stained boy wearing nothing more than an old hemp sack as his clothing. He had informed them someone had the information they were seeking, but would not reveal it in the open and would meet with them at dusk near the docks.

  As Jamus and Barbra entered the dockyard, dusk was quickly approaching. All but a few random workers remained - most were quick to take their leave as their hard day was done and new coin burned a hole in their pockets for the warm thighs of a woman or the numbing effects of cheap ale. Jamus had told Barbra he would go alone in case things went badly, but she quickly dismissed the notion - she would help him see this through until his daughter was safe in his arms again. He did not have time to argue, so he had agreed.

  The sun slowly disappeared and the faint light of a half moon began its eerie glow down on the dockyard. Jamus and Barbra waited for the man who had sent for them. The boy had not told them of any coin that was needed for the exchange of information but Jamus knew nothing would be free in this and had brought with them only three silver, the remainder of Markel’s stolen coin secured safely within their room at the inn.

  “Ah, so you did receive my invite,” a raspy voice said to the side of them. They turned to see a lone figure emerge from the dark shadows of a two-story building.

  “Are you the one with information about Nathan Belmark?” Jamus asked, his tone hard under the shadow of his hood.

  The man walked closer to them. He was thin and lanky - his hair long and greasy, coiling in locks down his head. He grinned at them, showing several chipped and broken teeth behind his scabbed lips. “Right to the point of things, eh? I like that,” he replied, rubbing his dirt stained hands together. “I have the info you seek, I do I do.”

  “What do you want for it?” Jamus asked suspiciously.

  The man grinned again. “Well, you know nothing in the slums comes for free. The question is what might you have to offer that I would want?” He licked his lips, clearly enjoying his position of power.

  Jamus squared up with the lanky man. “We only have three silver to our names, but for the information, we are willing to part with them.”

  The man’s eyes lit up at the mention of the coin. “Three silver you say?” Again, he licked his lips in anticipation. “What if I were to tell you that is not enough?”

  “Then you have wasted our time, and we yours,” Jamus countered, motioning to Barbra to start walking as an eerie tension filled the air. He hated the thought of not getting the info that might take him closer to his daughter, but something was not right and he did not want Barbra in the middle of a fight.

  “Wait just a moment,” the man said too eagerly. “Just cause three isn’t enough doesn’t mean you have nothing else to offer.”

  “And what more do we have that you would want?” Barbra asked suspiciously.

  The man grinned again. “Three silver and a little time between your thighs should be about right for the information you so seek.”

  A growl escaped Jamus’ throat as he went forward and grabbed the greasy man by the front of his ratted tunic, lifting him onto his toes. “Tell me what I want to know or I swear to whatever gods you believe in I will crush your skull beneath my boot!” Jamus hood slowly slipped back a ways, revealing most of his cruel features in the growing moon light.

  The man did not even try to hide his gasp at Jamus’ horrid face. “I… I… there is no need for this!”

  “Tell me, you rat, tell me where Nathan Belmark is!” Jamus shook him roughly.

  “Jamus stop!” Barbra cried out.

  Jamus turned to see another man holding Barbra from behind - the glint of a blade near her throat alerted him to the true ruse and danger they were in. He turned back to the man he had within his grasp, his eyes seething with hate. The touch of a dagger point in his own chest made him release the slum informant.

  “Ah, now you see who’s really in charge,” the man said smugly. “Foolish outsider thinks he knows how things work in the slums.”

  “You are gonna taste real good,” the dirty man holding Barbra chuckled, licking her neck.

  “Now, how about you hand over those silver coins of yours before you learn how bad the slums can be for ignorant fools like yourself,
” the lanky man told Jamus.

  “If I give them to you, will you let her go?”

  “When we are done with her,” he sneered back. “Maybe.”

  Jamus’ hand snapped forward, grasping the man’s dagger hand, and forced it up with so much strength the man couldn’t stop it. The blade slammed up under his chin and into his brain, killing him instantly. Jamus wrenched the dagger free and turned back to the degenerate holding Barbra. “Let her go or join your wretched friend!”

  Fear coursed through his eyes and he pushed Barbra away and ran for his life. But Jamus had no intention of letting him leave with the information they had come for and was quick to chase. Jamus’ anger moved him faster than the man’s fear and he slammed the dagger into the cutthroat’s back, severing his spine. The man crumpled to the cobblestone in agony, his legs no longer holding any feeling within them.

  “No, no please do not kill me!” The man begged like a child.

  “Tell me where the man I seek is and I will spare your wretched life.”

  The man tried to push himself away. “I don’t know - Jake is the one that knew all that, not me - I am just a hired hand. I just come out if he needs me.”

  Jamus snarled, stomping his boot down onto the man’s wrist, crushing the bone, causing him to wail out in agony. “Where is Nathan Belmark, damn it?” Jamus glared down at the cutthroat. “I swear to you if you don’t tell me by the end of this night your face will look worse than mine!”

  “Okay, okay!” The man cried. “He lives in the big white mansion at the northern end of the city. You can’t miss it - it is the one with the statue of the King between its gates.”

  Jamus loomed over the whimpering cutthroat, all strength of his earlier position gone from his eyes and all that remain was a scared, pathetic coward.

  “What are you going to do?” Barbra asked fretfully, coming over to stand beside him.

  Jamus did not take his eyes off the man. “He is a creature that preys on the innocent. I wonder how many have fallen victim to their ploys.”

  “Oh gods no, please - please don’t kill me, I swear I will change!” The man’s pleas were cut short as Jamus ran the dagger across his throat without a moment of hesitation.

  “We should go back to the inn and wait until morning before going to find Nathan’s house. We can better see how we are going to get in when it’s light out.”

  Jamus was glaring off to the north. “I go tonight and I go alone.”

  “I told you I was in this with you until the end,” Barbra snapped back.

  “Go back to the inn - I cannot have you hinder my choices in this,” he countered coldly, wondering why she was even here with him at all.

  “Hinder you? How have I hindered you?”

  “I almost gave in to these bastards, because your life was on the line!” Jamus roared back. “I will not have your life stand in the balance of my choices again woman!”

  Barbra scoffed in anger. “How dare you speak to me like…”

  “Silence yourself!” Jamus hissed, his eyes burning dangerously as he stared at her. “My mission means more to me than your life.” His tone softened, “I do not want to see you hurt because of that fact, now go back to the inn, I will return by morning.”

  “And if you don’t?”

  “Then I am dead and you should leave.” He began walking toward the northern end of the city. The sounds of his footstep upon the cobblestone echoed softly in the darkening night.

  A set of dark beady eyes peered between a stack of salt barrels near the entrance of the dockyard. Watching the whole scene play out and the two strangers parting ways, he knew this information was worth a good deal of coin to those it implied.

  Scotty McRit stepped out from the shadows of his hiding place, once all was still again. He pulled his pipe from his pocket and struck a match to a metal ring holding one of the barrels together and drew the flame into his hornpipe, inhaling the sweet flavor of tobacco. All Scotty had wanted was a place to piss and smoke his pipe this night in silence and not with the usual crowd of drunks he found himself with by night’s end. He needed a place to think about his coming problem and his feet had led him here. He grinned as he exhaled the thick smoke - maybe the gods were casting their favor down upon him now.

  Unforgivable

  Part Eight

  Crushed Velvet

  Jamus stood across the road, looking at the tall stone wall the surrounded the large white wash mansion. The gate leading into the compound was guarded by two large, armed men who Jamus doubted he would be able to overtake - due to the open ground there was no way to plan a surprise attack. He continued on his way down the street and slipped through the shadows, making his way to the rear of the compound.

  The stone wall was nearly twice as high as a man and its smooth side would make it near impossible for a man of Jamus’ skills to climb it. He cursed at his lack of readiness for such a task. He would need a rope, but before he slipped away, he decided to try one thing. He took off his cloak and rolled it long and tight, leaving the hood open so it had a better chance of opening and catching one of the jagged metal spearheads lining the top of the stone.

  Within four tries, he had anchored his cloak above; he added half his weight to the material and heard the light sound of ripping and wondered if it would even hold his full weight for long enough. To his surprise, the tattered cloak held strong and he was over the wall quickly.

  He crouched behind several well-manicured bushes and listened for any indication that he had been heard. He heard nothing but the soft, rhythmic flow of water pouring into the large pond not far from where he stood.

  Jamus slowly moved through the shadow of the trees and shrubs that littered the large enclosure. He held his new dagger tightly - the blood of its previous owner from the dockyard still drying upon it. The blade would drink much more this night if all went his way. He fidgeted with the dagger as he made his way closer to the towering house. The weapon almost seemed insignificant compared to the weight and power of the axe he had used on Markel Jones, but a weapon was a weapon, and would do the job all the same.

  Jamus stopped in his tracks as he heard the coming voices of two men. He cursed silently as he quickly found cover within a thick cedar bush not far from the path.

  “I don’t know, Garth,” one of the men said. “I know she would say yes, but her father is such a hard ass and has already shown his distaste for me.”

  “Forget him - if you two are happy then that is all that matters,” Garth replied. “If the old bastard won’t give his blessing then who cares.”

  “If only it were that easy. She already told me she won’t go against her father’s wishes and that if I truly loved her I would find a way to win him over.”

  Garth whistled in surprise. “There is always an easier way, ya know.”

  “The only easier way is to kill the old coot.”

  “Might be your best option,” Garth replied with seriousness. “Think about it: him dead, his daughter yours AND all his property and livestock. Not a bad way to start a future if you ask me. Get you out of this job in a hurry.”

  The other guard seemed to consider it for a moment. “But if she ever found out, she would hate me forever.”

  “Then don’t let her ever find out.”

  Jamus’ knuckles were burning white as he gripped the bone handle of his dagger. His blood boiled within him at the thought of what these two men were discussing, so similar to his own past. His foot shifted and a loud snap echoed in the still night. Jamus cursed again at his clumsiness and hoped the men had been too busy in their plotting to notice.

  “What was that?” Garth asked, drawing his short sword from its sheath.

  “Likely nothing,” his friend laughed. “You’re always so eager for a fight - like you are on some epic quest.”

  “Come on, it came from over there - let’s have a look,” Garth whispered back, already moving toward the bush Jamus hid within.

  “Ya, ya, it is our job I
guess.”

  Jamus ducked himself lower; it was dark and if he kept himself still within the shaggy cedar, he might go unnoticed as the two patrol guards went by. His heart began to race in anticipation and he had to focus on keeping his breathing slow and quiet as the guards neared.

  “It was right around here that I heard it., Garth whispered to his friend, surveying the ground.

  “Likely just a stray cat or raccoon running around looking for scraps. Now let’s get back to talking about my problem. If I am going to kill her father I need a good plan - I don’t even know where to begin.”

  Garth sighed in defeat at finding nothing. “Look, I will help you plan something if you cut me in on some of the profits once the bastard is dead.”

  “Of course I will, Garth. We have been friends since we were old enough to walk - what’s good for me is good for you.”

  Jamus watched while the two guards plotted back and forth mere arm lengths away from him. His rage boiled within him as he listened to their conversation about killing this girl’s father. How dare they disregard a father’s choice so ruthlessly and instead of trying to prove ones worth, simply resort to murder? Jamus had to close his eyes so not to see the two bastards before him so he could contain himself, but that had been a mistake. Violent flashes rippled through him and haunting words assaulted him “You humiliated him and forgot your place, Jamus! You have no right to deny him!” Jamus eye’s snapped open, his breathing uncontrollable now as it escape his scabbed lips in ragged gasps.

  “What the hell was that?” The one guard said, turning his attention to the cedar.

  Jamus launched from the growth at the surprised guard - his dagger stabbed through the leather armor, repeatedly into the man’s guts with unmatched swiftness. Before the guard even realized the danger, he was on his knees, more than half a dozen deep stab wounds riddling his midsection.

  “You cunt!” Garth screamed, thrusting his short sword for Jamus.