2. The Rake – Elias
The Rake
ELIAS
Two Weeks Ago
Ugh, I thought, wrinkling my lip as I stepped through the murky road, my boots will be good and ruined at this rate.
The recent rain had created nothing but mud and muck from the horses that traversed this path.
Looking up, I spied what appeared to be a house of ill repute and smiled.
This was just my kind of place. Even if it held only mortals within, I'd be in much better company than out here with the mud and stench.
I entered the establishment, venturing into the dimly lit room illuminated by scattered lanterns.
A mixture of new smells assaulted my senses—liquor, unwashed bodies, and general uncleanliness clung to the interior like a thick blanket.
I pulled my sleeve up to my face, briefly shielding myself from the pungent scent.
Around me, mortals sat engrossed at their tables, seemingly oblivious to the olfactory assault.
Fae senses were undeniably sharper than theirs.
My eyes roved over the bustling room until I saw him.
Claude, a Bohgie, nestled in a dim corner where shadows clung like a shroud.
His glamor shimmered around him, keeping mortal eyes turned away.
He appeared as a short, stout, bald man huddled over a tankard of ale.
His reddened eyes lifted to meet mine as I stood in the entrance, and he jerked his chin to the unoccupied chair across from him.
One never approached a Bohgie without their approval.
"Claude," I said as I sat in the filthy chair, reluctantly resting my fisted hands on the sticky table. Hopefully I'd be out of these lands soon and back in fae territory where things were nicer, cleaner.
"You should glamor those," Claude grumbled, nodding toward my ears.
I sat back with a grin. "Why would I do that when I so enjoy the look of terror on their faces?”
"They don't like your kind here," he answered in that deep voice of otherness, so deep it almost sounded like rocks grinding together.
"You mean our kind," I replied, leaning forward.
"No, I mean your kind." He slammed his empty tankard down, splashing liquid onto my hands.
I pulled them back, trying to disguise my discomfort.
"Lest you forget, Claude, we are much the same," I warned, my patience already wearing thin.
We locked eyes for a moment, the tavern's clamor wrapping around us. I let my carefree expression slip, showing the vicious side of myself as I leveled Claude with a heavy glare.
"I'll have you know–”
I stopped his words before he could finish, my voice lowering to a deathly calm.
"There is only one reason I won't teach you a valuable lesson right now.
You have exactly what I want, and you will give me the information I seek.
" I leaned forward, staring into his widened eyes until I could see through the glamor into the darkened sockets beneath. "Be smart, Claude. You know who I am."
He sighed, placing his knobby hands on the tabletop, fingers digging into the edge as if physically holding himself back. "There is talk of a healer in this village."
A growl curled up my throat. "I'm not looking for a healer."
I'd been searching for so long, my irritation stood on a cliff's edge, ready to dive into madness. She finally felt close, and soon I would be free of this damn curse.
"Oh," Claude replied, his slurred words heavy with innuendo, "but this one you are."
At his words, a memory flitted through my mind.
The last time I’d seen her, she’d been young, her strawberry hair braided tightly.
I remember tugging on it and finding myself on the ground, teeth rattling from impact.
She’d loomed over me, eyes blazing with fury, commanding me to stay away.
Oh, she’d been furious but all I’d seen was beauty, and being the curious boy I had been, I’d ignored her warning.
Her image had never faded from my mind. In those early years of her absence, I’d almost unraveled under the weight of her loss.
I no longer deserved to be in her presence.
The things I had done. The things I would do, but I had to find her. I could endure the curse no longer.
"You're certain?" I asked.
"I'm certain. She lives just outside this village, right on the border of the magical barrier," Claude replied, lifting his tankard for a refill.
"Have you told anyone else?" I asked, pausing when a barmaid stopped to refill his mug. When she glanced at me, I shook my head.
"No. I've no need. What interest do I have in a seelie whore?" he replied with a frown, lifting his tankard to his lips.
Something settled in my gut at his movements. He was good, using the large rim of his mug to hide his expressions. Perhaps he’d had no use for the seelie before I'd shown interest, but now… at first chance, he'd inform the unseelie queen and claim his reward. I couldn't have that.
With deliberate movements, I stood, smiling down at him.
"Thank you for the information, friend." I turned to leave, grinning at the sound of his expelled breath.
Poor creature. He thought the danger had passed.
Swiftly, I slammed my dagger into the soft spot above his left ear, my movements faster than any mortal eye could track.
Claude's head slipped to the tabletop, cradled in his arms as if he'd drunk himself to sleep. Beneath the shadows in this dark corner, it could be quite a while before anybody discovered his true state.
I made sure the wound bled into the thick sleeve of his tunic before I tucked my bloody dagger beneath my cloak and left the tavern with my chin held high, moving in the direction he had indicated, toward my destiny, toward her.