“It seems that the big shots in charge have decided to get involved in this hidden fortune business.”
“We understand that the person who watched the safe of the hidden fortune was a close confidant of Gregory, the guildmaster.”
“And the amount is so large that even split between two, it’s quite a massive sum.”
“That’s not all. Supposedly, there are records of the Devil’s Alliance’s misdeeds. Some say there’s dirt on the other senior members there.”
“They’re checking every location that April is known to visit. There’s someone on the inside at the orphanage, I hear.”
“It’s gotten the Devil’s Alliance on edge, too. They’re looking for a fight.”
“We saw a number of unsavory types near this street, in fact.”
“Probably only a matter of time until she’s found.”
“Of course, all Gregory needs to do is fess up, but he refuses to talk.”
“I guess he doesn’t care what happens to his dear granddaughter.”
After all that, Tan looked me up and down and said, “I don’t suppose you heard any of what we just said…”
I gave him an awkward smile and shrugged. “I’ve been going hard of hearing lately. No idea what you’re saying.”
“Good,” he said, satisfied, then gave me a letter. It even had an unbroken seal on it. “This is a different matter. We were asked to deliver it on the way here.”
“So long. Give the girl our regards.”
They spoke in a dreadful monotone, like performing bad theater, but I could feel the warmth behind it.
The content of their message, however, was very bad news. Even April was wanted by the authorities now. I took it as a sign that they weren’t getting anywhere in striking a deal with the old man. They wanted to take her hostage to get him to play along. They’d be raiding this house soon.
We were running out of time. Dez was one thing, but his wife and son didn’t deserve this. The only other option left was one of my hideouts, but if the mobsters started using every last man to search and they found us, we’d be screwed.
“Going down the drain at last…”
Heather’s hidden treasure was more than just riches. Even the old man’s buried fortune wouldn’t be a satisfactory substitute for them.
“So…what now?”
I opened the seal of the letter. A message from someone, perhaps?
“Maybe it’s an offer to go on a date with some beautiful lady or another.”
I opened it up—and my jaw dropped.
Then I crumpled up the paper and shoved it into my pocket.
“I’ve got to leave. Keep watch over April. If you need to, run out the back door,” I told Ralph before leaving Dez’s house.
I made my way carefully, keeping out of sight. Partially because I was nervous about being outside alone, but also because this wasn’t something other people should be privy to.
Once I had some privacy, I unfolded the letter to examine it closely.
Dear Matthew,
I write you this letter to inform you of a matter I wish to discuss.
Please come to the Golden Stagecoach tonight.
If you do not, it might result in the downfall of the woman you treasure so much.
Do ensure that you come alone.
In short, it was a threat.
While the handwriting was nice, I did not recognize it. I could not guess who the sender was. Ignoring it would be an option if not for the curious content. If it were a summons from the Devil’s Alliance, say, they would indicate the threat more directly by saying, She’ll die, she won’t live to see the morning, or Say hello to the guildmaster’s little girl for us. But the threat used the word downfall. What caused a person’s downfall varied based on the individual, but in Arwin’s case, it could refer to only one thing. And it meant I couldn’t lean on Dez or anyone else for help. Naturally, I would be prepared.
The sun was setting by the time I arrived at the Golden Stagecoach. I did a lap around the building just in case, but I didn’t sense an ambush. Through the window, I saw the proprietress wiping off dishes by herself. No one else was inside. Are they upstairs?
I steeled myself and went through the door. It was my first time going inside; a long counter ran along the right side from the entrance, with four tables on the left. In the back was a staircase going up. So it was basically the same layout as the Iron Bear Archer before it. The only differences were that there was a sign saying the stairs were off-limits, and the bar featured a wider selection of booze.
“Oh, welcome.”
And one other change: The owner was now a beautiful woman instead of an old man.
“Please, come and sit,” she said, motioning to the seat in front of her. I ordered an ale to start.
“What do you recommend to go with it?”
“The salted fish and pickled greens.”
“I’ll go with that, then.”
I drained the flagon of ale and kept waiting, but no one else was coming by. No one was walking around upstairs who might come down, either. Many people walked past the bar on the street, but no one came inside. It was unnatural. It would be one thing if the service and beer were awful, but I knew from experience they weren’t.
“Is it always like this?”
“No. The place is rented out today.”
“To whom?”
“Me,” the proprietress said with a little smile. “I’ve been hoping to have a longer chat with you. I wrote you that letter. I put out a sign saying we’re closed.”
She stepped out from behind the counter and began shuttering the windows. Lights blinking out, just like a glowfly. Then she returned to her spot behind the bar, the faint smell of perfume following her.
“I have a proposition for you,” she said.
“Is this for an affair? Or a paid evening? I’m afraid I’m under contract at the moment. And believe it or not, I’m rather busy. So if that’s all…”
“Pardon me,” she said, smiling gracefully, and hid farther behind the counter. It was a simple hanging curtain partition. I heard cloth rustling; she seemed to be undressing. By the light of the candles behind the curtain, I could see her silhouette in shadow, getting naked.
“You wanted to start right here? Wouldn’t a bed upstairs be nicer?”
Not that I wasn’t tempted.
“I’m sorry, but this isn’t the kind of topic you’re thinking of.”
From the shadow, she extended a pale and enticing arm. It was holding a small, white paper bundle. She ripped it open, revealing white pills. The silhouette against the curtain appeared to put them in its mouth.
I heard her exhale, then saw something like smoke erupt from her mouth. It had to be, because I could see it rising past the curtain. Before I knew what was happening, the white smoke covered the woman entirely, shrouding her like an enormous cocoon.
Moments later, the cocoon broke, and the silhouette that emerged from it did not belong to the woman…or any human being.
“Thank you for your patience.”
I was speechless at the figure that appeared.
It had a long, narrow body that was covered in black-and-white spotted patterns like a tattoo. Its long face had small golden eyes that shone. I didn’t see a nose or a mouth, but arms bearing huge pincers extended from its sides. It was the black-and-white mottled crayfish thing. The preacher who had killed Donald.
“Please be calm,” it said when I tried to take out the temporary sun. “I don’t intend to fight you. I just wanted to talk.”
The voice was undoubtedly that of the proprietress. It sounded and acted like a woman, but all I saw was a black-and-white spotted crayfish monstrosity. The disconnect was extreme.
“Who are you?”
“I suppose I never told you my name, did I?” It put a hand to its face and giggled. “My name is Samantha. And as you can tell, I’m a preacher of the sun god.”
Her voice was bewitching and seductive.
“But you can call me Sam.”