“Purse?” Nick whined. "I have no purse."
“Just gut ’im, Bobo. Dru put enough in his drink to take down two men at least.” The other man slid out from behind a brilliantly blooming bougainvillea in front of Nick.
Ah! The admirer of my buttons!Part of the man's form remained in the lengthening shadows, but Nick recognized him all the same.
“Take off the coat, toff,” the man coveting Nick's buttons announced to the alley. “Don't want to be getting blood on it.”
Obviously, these two did not have Nick's vast experience in gutting a man. Blood got on everything. The coat would most assuredly be ruined. Nick changed his mind and decided to kill Admirer of Buttons first.
“Are ye deaf? I said take off the coat. Wren wants it.” Bobo's irritated whisper came to Nick accompanied by another shaky push from the sword.
Wren.Nick watched the man in front of him. Yes, he'd have to teach Wren not to covet thy toff's buttons. Falling to one knee, he spread the long fingers of his hands, feeling the assurance of the Devil's ring on his thumb. He could twist easily from this position and kick Bobo, breaking the man's leg.
“Knew this would be easy as pie with him being one-eyed and all. Wren,” Bobo addressed the younger man, "find you a big rock over there to hit him with. Dru's potion is doing our work for us. He can't even stand.”
“Big man like that,” Wren mused with a snicker. “Thought he'd be more of a challenge.” He picked up a large rock, hefting the weight of the stone in his hand. “This will be an easy day's work.”
“Am I just to lounge here quietly then and allow you to beat me over the head?” Nick tried to keep the sarcasm out of his voice and failed. He'd had quite enough of these two idiots. He planned to be at the Governor’s in time for tea.
“Shut up, ye one-eyed bugger,” Wren snarled.
“Yes, terribly inconvenient, being one-eyed. But I am hardly a Cyclops and you, my friend are no Odysseus.” Nick turned slightly, lifting his head.
“Who's that?” Bobo sounded dumbfounded.
“Ah. You are decidedly uneducated and know nothing of mythology. What a pity. Well, I've no time to tell you the tale now.”
Wren strode confidently forward, the rock clutched in his hand. “I’m sick of listening to him talk. He shouldn't even beableto talk with what Dru gave ’im.” Wren stopped halfway to where Nick sat sniffing the air like a rodent who has sighted a mousetrap but still wishes the cheese.
“Ah! The barmaid with the fabulous pair of tits. Lovely girl,” Nick said thoughtfully. "Thought about fucking her, but she's a bit, well,usedfor my tastes. I'm sure most of the Royal Navy's had a go.”
“Youbastard!” Wren spat. “That's my sister you're talking about.” The rock fell from his hand to the ground. “Don't care no more about the damned coat. I'm just going to shoot you and leave you here to bleed.” He pulled an ancient pistol from his coat and cocked the weapon. “No one will hear the shot. The Parrot's got thick walls.”
Nick changed his position slightly, in light of the fact he had a pistol pointed at him. He'd turn and grab Bobo, throw the red-haired man over his shoulder like a filthy rag doll, snapping Bobo's neck as he did so. Wren's shot would go through Bobo and not Nick. Nick would then snap Wren's neck. He knew there was quicksand in the mangrove swamps. He could drag the bodies through there and—
A shot broke the silence of the alley followed by the smell of gunpowder.
Nick winced and grabbed his midsection, expecting the impatient Wren had fired.
Instead, Wren fell to the ground with a small thump.
Blood shot out like a spigot. “You!” Wren screamed at someone barely discernible in the shadows. “You shot my bloody knee!” Dropping his unfired pistol, he writhed on the ground in pain. Blood spurted from between his clasped fingers, splattering the grass and dirt around him.
“Drop the sword.” The sound of another pistol being cocked sounded from the depths of the mangrove swamp. “Now.”
The sword fell away from Nick's back.
“Don't shoot!” Bobo's frantic cry came from behind Nick.
A slight figure materialized at the edge of a line of mangroves, a slim lad holding a pistol. While he couldn’t have been but a year or two out of the schoolroom, he walked with authority and little fear as he neared Nick and the two thieves. Obscured by the large, broad brimmed hat he wore, Nick couldn’t make out the boy’s face. Shells crunched under the soles of the boy’s well worn leather boots as he approached. Nick did not miss the glimmer of the hilt of a knife tucked into the top of the left boot, nor a third pistol hanging from his belted waist.
As he approached Bobo and Wren, the boy acted as if he shot at men everyday in dark alleys, for he showed not the slightest hesitation or fear. He put his pistol even with Bobo’s temple.
“I beg you drop the sword.”
Bobo complied immediately and the sword fell to the ground, landing against Nick’s boots. The lad nodded towards the bleeding Wren. “Collect your friend and go.”
The aroma of chocolate filled the air as the boy moved closer to Nick. The scent certainly didn’t come from Bobo who reeked of grease and onions. Had the lad eaten a chocolate tart or other sweet before appearing to rescue Nick? The image of the boy with a cache of desserts hidden in the mangrove swamp would have made Nick smile if the current circumstances didn’t require him to be serious.
