Total pages in book: 72
Estimated words: 69909 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 350(@200wpm)___ 280(@250wpm)___ 233(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 69909 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 350(@200wpm)___ 280(@250wpm)___ 233(@300wpm)
“I don’t think so,” Jericho says. “What the hell do you want?”
I pick up my mug and move to a chair, crossing one ankle over the opposite knee, purposefully casual, and drinking my now lukewarm coffee like it’s the most delicious thing on earth.
“Ezekiel St. James. You have turned out to be a thorn in my side. Like that girlfriend of yours. Where is she? Maybe we can invite her in.”
“Your business is with me, not her. What do you want?”
“Her father did some work for me. Work I paid for, but, sadly, never received.”
“How is this my problem or hers for that matter?”
“Lucky went and got himself arrested before he could deliver,” he continues as if I haven’t spoken. “But I always get what I pay for. One way or another. Lucky’s in town, did I mention?”
“Yeah, he left his calling card.”
“I’m not surprised. Discretion is certainly not his forte. That man has got some pent-up rage, let me tell you. If you ask me, he should talk to someone about it. It’s not healthy.”
“What do you want, Girard?”
“Antoine, please.” He smiles, runs his tongue over his teeth. “You stop interrupting and I’ll tell you.”
I gesture for him to go on.
“Now, Lucky is itching to see that blue-haired little girl of his. He mentioned she has a sister. Do you remember her name, Clyde?” he asks one of his soldiers who shakes his head. “Me either. Some sort of bird I think it was.” My hand fists around my mug. “Well, that’s neither here nor there and I stray off track. We’re talking about the one who has all her mental faculties. What I wanted to say is it’d be a shame for him to get his hands on her. Sweet thing, from what I remember. I bet she’s looking fine now. All grown up.”
“Hoxton thought she was a sweet thing, too. Didn’t bother him she was a kid.”
“Unfortunately, I cannot speak to the morals of those who work…” he pauses dramatically. “Who worked, for me. But I will help that little girl because I don’t like to see women brutalized.”
“How exactly will you help her?”
“I can make it so her father goes away. Forever. No skin off my nose. Wouldn’t cost me an arm or a leg,” he says, pointing his hand to the stump of his other arm and laughing a strange, cold laugh that turns my stomach. “Forgive me. That was in poor taste. Although I’m the butt of that joke, aren’t I?”
Jericho comes to sit down. “What are you doing there, Girard? In Councilor Augustus’s house? He did this to you. And from what I saw last night, you two haven’t made up.”
He shrugs a shoulder. “Ever watch a cat with a mouse? Mean things, they are. One second, they’re purring in your lap, sweet as can be, the next they’ve got a tiny little mouse pinned by the tail and tormenting the creature. Playing with it before they finally kill it. It’s not even for food much of the time. Did you know that?”
“I don’t have a cat.”
“I have half a dozen. You should get one. For your little girl. Teaches them responsibility.”
“You have kids?” I ask, knowing the answer. I am surprised to see the momentary downturn of his mouth.
“No.” There’s a long pause and I get the feeling he has some regret. “I truly am sorry for having scared your daughter. Like I said, I don’t like to brutalize girls or women. Now my old friend,” he starts, a smile he tries to play off casually turning ugly, his true face showing. His rage. “He has no qualms about taking something beautiful and pure and crushing it. A flower in his hand would wilt.” His lip curls and it takes him a long minute before he can continue. “His power goes unchecked. Has for too long. You asked why I was here. I’m here to right that wrong.”
“How will you do that?” I ask.
“By turning him in to The Tribunal, of course.”
“He is The Tribunal. And I’m guessing you don’t want to lose your other hand.”
He looks down at the stump, closes his left hand around it. “I still feel it, you know that? What a thing, phantom limb syndrome.”
He looks up to meet my gaze and I study him, trying to understand him. I think, in some ways, I do. I think, to some extent, over the years he’s gone a little mad.
He stands up, walks toward the desk and retrieves a business card from his pocket. He sets it down then goes to the door. One of his men opens it. “I will guarantee the blue-haired girl’s safety if you give me what I want.”
I stand, too. “Did you guarantee it when Hoxton had her strung up and whipped her? When he would have raped her had I not come?”