The man smiles, but this time in a way that’s even more dangerous than before.
He extends his arm for me to take. “Allow me.”
The stranger leads me down the street and into a dark alleyway. Lining the narrow road are tall houses made of crumbling grey brick and decorated with the occasional broken window. It smells musky too, and even though the dimly lit street is obviously abandoned, I can’t shake the feeling that we’re being watched. Even the shadows move mysteriously as we walk.
Instinctively, I tighten my grip on my companion’s arm.
“It’s alright,” he mutters, patting my hand. “We’re here now.”
He stops us outside an abandoned-looking house with missing windows and a black front door, no different from the other fifty or so down this street.
For a moment, I want to slap myself. I’ve just allowed a stranger to lead me to the middle of nowhere to do Stars knows what – blindly trusting him like a fool.
I’m weighing up running when a huge man steps out of the shadows.
I yelp, smacking my hand against my mouth. The man is bigger than huge. He’s enormous! Moonlight reflects off his bald scalp while the rest of his giant body is covered in black armour and bandages. Strapped to his side is a sword almost bigger than me, which his hand rests on as he charges straight for us.
“Bertie!” my companion grins at the monster of a man. “I have a new client here. Would you please be a gem and unlock the door so I can escort the young lady inside?”
My heart leaps. Is Bertie the Scorpion? Now he’s closer, I can make out the scars that line his face. With his huge frame and missing eye, he’d certainly be scary enough to frighten Prince Hugo off. My sisters will be overjoyed!
Before I can work up the courage to ask, Bertie grunts, then shuffles over to the door. A lock clicks, and the door creaks open as light spills onto the street.
“In you go,” I hear my companion say. His hand nudges the small of my back.
Cautiously, I step into the light.
Inside the terraced house is like a different world to the grubby exterior. My head tips back to take it all in.
The floors are covered with thick burgundy carpets, while the walls are painted and lined with gilded paintings. To my left, a dark wooden bannister follows carpeted stairs to a second floor, and straight ahead is a panelled hallway leading off to different closed doors, each one carved from rich brown wood. Suspended from the ceiling are several glowing crystal chandeliers that give everything inside a warm, rosy hue. Of course, it’s no palace, but it’s warm, inviting, and completely different from the grimy street outside.
Behind me, I hear my companion follow me in and the door swing shut.
“Impressed?” he asks.
I nod, in awe of how an interior as beautiful as this could exist in such an abandoned-looking terraced house.
The stranger chuckles, then heads off down the hallway. “The Scorpion will see you now,” he announces. “I’ll take you to his office. Follow me, please.”
My heart thunders in my chest. What if the real Scorpion is even more terrifying than the huge man outside? At least he must get a lot of business to be able to afford to decorate his house as nicely as this, even if the street outside is in dire need of some landscaping.
My green-eyed companion reaches the door at the end of the hallway and slowly pushes it open. Hands shaking, I let him lead the way before following him through the wooden doorway.
Inside, the office is small and windowless, yet the overflowing bookshelves fill the walls with warm stacks of colour. In the centre of the room is a thick, darkwood desk covered with papers and inkpots, lit up by the glowing crystal chandelier above.
Either side of the desk are two leather chairs – one far more impressive and well-worn than the other. Although I’m surprised to see them both empty. Or at least I was, until the man who led me here confidently moves around the desk and takes a seat in the larger, more impressive one.
His desk. His chair. Of course.Heis the Scorpion.
“So,” the dark-haired stranger grins, “please take a seat and tell me, how can I help you?”
4
KASIMIR
It’s been a long time since someone other than a beat-up drunk or jaded ex-husband has sat in that chair. Night Alley is crawling with bitter men, and somehow they all manage to find their way here – each one loaded with jewels and coin, ready to pay me anything to ‘dispose’ of an even more bitter man who’s caused them trouble.
But nowshe’shere. A young, violet-eyed woman with hair redder than rubies and narrow shoulders that shudder as she pulls out the leather chair and hesitantly takes a seat opposite me.
