Downtown Druid (Book 2 Complete) - Ch 67: Fell into my knife
Dantes shot up, breathing heavily and covered in sweat. He looked around the room, sensed the flowers on his windowsill, Jacopo stirring beneath the bed, and a solitary roach nibbling on some small crumbs he must’ve spilled as he’d snacked.
Tieara gave him a light kick with a short but shapely leg before turning back over and swiftly returning to heavy snoring.
He silently left the bed and navigated to the bowl and mirror at the far end of the room. He took a small cloth, soaked it in cold water and pressed it against his face for nearly a full minute. He removed it, letting out a deep breath, and looked at his wrist. A few inches above his roach mark were two bat wings which were segmented into three pieces each. One of those segments was filled in completely with gold. Below that his rat and roach marks were roughly half full. He ran his fingers along the raised skin of each mark. Words, gold, violence, those used to be the only tools at his disposal. They were enough more often than not, but his druid abilities…real tangible power…that was something to be grateful for. He found himself muttering a short prayer to the mother, something he’d heard some woman mutter while he passed her watering some flowers years and years ago.
“The dirt, the seed, the Mother. The life, the growth, the Mother. The withering, the rebirth, the Mother.”
‘`You talking to yourself over there?” asked Tieara as she stretched and yawned. “I know the weed we shared was strong, but if it makes you talk to yourself I’ll keep it ta myself next time, Eddy”
Dantes chuckled. “I think the real trick would be to let me smoke more so that I get used to it.”
She smiled and pulled a pipe from somewhere within the curls of her hair, and some weed from the pile of clothes she’d left by the bed. “I mean, I don’t mind having an excuse to start the day right.”
He grabbed Tel’s finger from the nightstand and lit her pipe while she took a long inhale. He smiled, Tel would’ve definitely appreciated being used in this situation.
Dantes went about his usual business after that. Tending his gardens before returning to man the door at the Vixen until Decker arrived. He ate a particularly robust breakfast which between the smell that radiated off of him and the slight red tinge to his eyes, drew him some judgemental glares from Vera. He gave her a wide smile back in return. He certainly remembered her smoking more than her fair share of what was then referred to as Delirium’s Delight, but he decided not to bring that up in her house.
Once he was done, he fell back into his usual routine as a bouncer. Shifting his focus between Jacopo and the rats he had watching Gaspard’s old haunts. In the middle of a particularly slow hour, his hunt bore fruit.
He was older, and far rougher than Dantes remembered. His dark brown hair had spots of gray, and his boyish halfling features seemed to have given way to a fresh batch of wrinkles. His clothing was dirty and full of holes, but that was nothing new. Even when they’d made money from a job he’d always preferred to spend it on booze, dust, women, and weed rather than anything more permanent. His eyes darted back and forth as he approached the “Drowned Rat”, an aptly named bar in a low part of midtown near the docks that flooded every typhoon season. Gaspard looked like shit, reeked of fear and desperation, and didn’t even know that at that moment, his death was sealed.
Dantes broke contact with the other rats he was using to monitor Gaspard’s other possible locations, and focused his attention on that one, willing the rat to follow Gaspard inside.
Gaspard pushed open the front door slowly, and assessed the bar. There were a few people passed out in pools of their own filth, and the bartender himself sipped straight from a bottle as he plucked on a small, out of tune, lute. He saw a rat run in behind him, and attempted to kick it, but missed and could swear the damned thing made a rude gesture as it ran under a table.
Stolen content alert: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences.
Gaspard sat in front of the bartender, still glancing right and left, as if a guard would suddenly appear to throw him directly into the Pit.
“Want some booze?’ asked the bartender, not looking up from his lute as he spoke.
“Uh, yeah. Whatever you have that’s strong and cheap.”
“That’s everything here man.” The bartender looked up from his lute and raised his eyebrows. “Oh shit! Gaspard! It’s been awhile you piece of shit. Where’ve you been?” He took a dirty glass from under the bar and filled it with something brown and strong.
“Just uh, laying low.”
The bartender placed the drink in front of himself, but didn’t slide it forward.
Gaspard gave him a look.
“Come on. We both know I can’t have a tab for you. You’re a fucking dead man.”
Gaspard ran a shaking hand through his hair and pulled two copper from one of his pockets. The bartender took the coin and slid the booze over to him.
Gaspard drank the entire glass in a single motion, then slid another two coins toward the bartender for another.
The bartender shook his head as he poured. “Killing a highborn woman. Bad fucking idea man.”
Gaspard swiped the full glass from the bartender, spilling a good third of it, and threw it back. When he was done he wiped his face with the dirty sleeve of his jacket.
“I fucking know that. I had a scam. A really fucking good one. It wasn’t supposed to go that way. I was finally going to be fucking rich!”
“Oh yeah?”
“Yeah. I got a few different young noblemen to hire me. I’d scare the woman they wanted to court, maybe steal a bit of jewelry, and they’d swoop in and save them. I’d earn a few gold, not to mention what I stole, and they’d get a better chance at getting some highborn skirt.”
“Guess it didn’t go right that last time?”
Gaspard slid more copper his way. “No. She fucking struggled, the dumb bitch. Basically fell into my knife.”
“All twenty times?”
“Well, the first one was her fault. Who gives a shit about the next sixteen.”
“Nineteen.”
“Whatever.” He slid more coin across the bar and slammed another drink, his nerves seeming to calm as he stopped looking left and right fearfully.
The bartender served him a few more drinks, and gave him some gruel so vile looking that Dantes was sure that feeding it to the rats would cost him favor rather than gain it for him. Once he was done eating, the bartender spoke one more time.
“You probably want to clear out before the main crowd gets here. There’s a bounty out for you. Those knuckledraggers will sell you out the moment they see you.”
Gaspard nodded. “Yeah… good idea. Thanks Bierten.”
“No problem, you’ve always been a good customer. Come back tomorrow at this same time. I’ll feed you again.”
Gaspard pushed himself away from the bar, and nearly fell off his stool. He steadied himself and walked slowly out and back onto the streets.
The rat Dantes had been controlling wasn’t quick enough to follow Gaspard out, so he switched his focus to a different one that he’d moved to monitor the outside of the “Drowned Rat”, and had it follow Gaspard. In the midst of that the bartender moved to one of the passed out regulars and gave him a firm kick to the ribs.
“You want free booze for the night?”
The man, bleary eyed and unfocused as he was, still managed a desperate nodding to the question.
“Go down to the Midtown guard station and tell the guard there, Pacha, to meet me here.”
Dantes broke his connection to that rat. Bierten was going to sell out Gaspard for the bounty. He seemed like a clever sort, Dantes made a mental note to remember that as he watched Gaspard slowly slink through the emptiest streets and alleys possible until he reached a seemingly abandoned building. He moved some board in front of it upward and crawled through a window.
Dantes had the rat follow him. Inside Gaspard drunkenly stumbled through a few dusty rooms filled with broken furniture before collapsing on a dirty old mattress in the corner next to which was a half used candle and a small bag. He quickly passed out.
Dantes smiled, his heart pounding. He had him. One of those that had betrayed him was within his grasp. As long as he struck that night, he’d have him long before Pacha had any idea that he’d missed him.
“Why are you smiling?” asked Sera, with a raised eyebrow. She was manning the door with Dantes as she waited on a client.
“Oh, I just thought of a funny joke.”
Sera looked like she wouldn’t bite for moment, then she let out a sigh when after another minute no one had walked through the door. “What’s the joke?”
He chuckled. “Well, a dwarven priest, an orcish carpenter, and a gnome sailor walk into a whorehouse early in the morning…”
