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My eyes survey the porch, drawn to her swing and cheery flowers. I tried to call her the previous night but hadn’t gotten an answer. While this isn’t cause for serious alarm, it hasn’t set right with me. Living in the city of Cloverdale has been a step away from the life here. Lillian has always insisted that she is fine. She likes the quiet, the peace, and the solitude of her life, but I’ve always known that is a bunch of bullshit. She has her business pursuits, although she has always been vague about what those were. I know only that she engaged in some kind of trade that kept her accounts full. She issupposed to be retired, but I know she is dabbling lightly.
Now, instead of the usual tidy offerings, there looks to be a pot turned over, and the door swung wide, hitting the casing with the wind that gusts in her small, secluded valley. My throat goes dry as I think back to the incident with the werewolf and the warning from the ogre. Maybe letting the bodyguards go wasn’t the best choice.
Throwing my vehicle in park, I eye the cottage. There has obviously been a disturbance. Getting out of the car I take the safety off the handgun and keep my grip firm as I move forward. I try to keep the litany of thoughts clear as I step forward, sweeping the area for any sort of assailants. It’s empty. The wind rattles the door eerily, but that is all. I’d like to bolt for the cottage and take the stairs two at a time, heedless to the danger, but I make myself go slowly — cautiously. The copper-tinged air is unmistakable as I push the door inward, but it is the splash of color on the walls of the living room, the drip-drip-drip that is sliding into a pool somewhere that makes me hesitate on the threshold.
I make my feet move forward, my eyes scanning as I go, taking in the red blood spatter. I swallow hard knowing what I’m going to find already. Lillian’s body lays like a tiny forgotten doll curled next to thefireplace, her flesh tattered in giant strips.
“No, no, no ….” My voice breaks on a scream as I rush to her, taking her papery thin hand in mine, cataloging her injuries as I do. Tears slide down my cheeks and my heart (what I had left of one) breaks. Someone has hurt her. She hadn’t had a painless death in her sleep, the one she wanted. I’m not sure if it was the one she deserved, but I had wished it for her. The quiet and peaceful drifting visit by the Sandman. No, this was brutal and terrible. Filled with terror and suffering. As I smooth her hands in I note her broken nails, her forearms where she raised them to protect herself. My heart hardens.
I run my fingers down her cheeks and lay a last kiss on her forehead. If someone thinks they’re going to get away with this, they are mistaken. I’ll find out who is responsible, and they’re going to pay. There is really only one way that I can think of that I can accomplish that. It won’t be on my own. I need to call the one man I swore I’d never speak to again, Riven Dalmatius.
Chapter Six
RIVEN
Rising above Cloverdale, just on the west side of the square, is the Fortuna District. Massive buildings of rock and stone. Towers that hang in the sky, some by design and some obviously employing magical means to keep them there hovering on the edges of the clouds. The district is unique in Cloverdale for many reasons, but it is where one goes when you have any sort of legitimate business to conduct. The business isn’t legitimate, but one can’t quibble.
The criminal network that I operate spreads over the entire Kingdom of Bathos from one edge to the other. Primarily my business involves smuggling items that aren’t readily available in Cloverdale. Supply and demand so to speak. It could be gourmet items, potion ingredients, gold —whatever is required. While there are still a few lines I won’t ever cross, I have set most of them by the wayside long ago. In a kingdom like Bathos, these things take on many forms — many of them aren’t always so legal. While I may have begun my life without a pot to piss in, I have clawed my way up the ranks through blood, sweat and tears. (Well, let’s not lie–I’ve used other people's blood and tears too.)
Nobody can ever say that I didn’t earn my place leading the Gallego Syndicate. Certainly, I made sacrifices along the way for the position. I tighten my fist just thinking of having to give up Red. It was necessary to remind myself. Mainly for her safety, but also because the previous head of the Gallego Syndicate was Red’s guardian and grandmother. Lillian Gallego didn’t have any interest in anyone having a relationship with her granddaughter who was in the business. I can’t say that I blamed her in that regard. Still the thought of that moment burns and has fueled me in my fight to gain control of the Syndicate in the years that have followed.
Releasing the hold on my fist, I smooth my fingers over the edges of my trouser pocket and take a breath. What has gotten into me today? Typically, I am not so melancholy. I have issues to focus on that are far more important in the present than keeping my head in the past. We have been hearing stories of some transactions that are happening along routes that havenothing to do with the Syndicate. I frown slightly as I walk. Initially, the disturbances in the business were small, but my right hand, James picked up on them right away. Then violence started occurring around the areas where we have warehouses, safe-houses, or route transports. James and I agreed that we’d needed to go investigate and either settle some scores or find the culprit. I scowl, contemplating the idea of someone considering moving into our territory. Heads will roll for that offense. Not only will they cost us money, but they will hurt our reputation as well. The Syndicate lives and dies by its reputation — as a front I also run other businesses, including one that works over the more elite clientele in Cloverdale. The royals. Without a solid track record all of that becomes a house of cards.
During the morning I like to walk to my office building. Walking in the district where I once had not been welcome always gave me great satisfaction. I chuckle sardonically to myself as I make my way across the pedestrian bridge that hangs over the roadway on Parkview Passage. It is busy this morning with commuters. Most of them steer clear of me, which I accept as the price of doing business. I understand the leery looks. They know who I am and the businesses that I run. Even those that have no inkling who I am can sense there is something to be wary of because the people part from me like water around a rock. It probably shouldn’t please me like it does.
People and creatures alike are bustling through the district and into the town square with their foamed lattes and bags of frosted treats. Those that frequent Fortuna live in Sudora Heights or even Castle Hill. Certainly, they don’t live over in Murkwood, Fabled or the Port Districts. Those citizens are a little shabbier, rougher around the edges.
It is hard to guess who you might see on a street in Cloverdale, but normal citizens bustle about on the day-to-day, some on two feet, some on four. Some have magic and some, like me, are something else. As a shifter, I have additional gifts. A wolf shifter by birth, my strengths of speed, power, and enhanced senses have repeatedly proven helpful. Survival has depended on those things more than once in my line of work. Initially, I had grown my business on just my physical abilities, but then gradually I branched out into more lucrative areas — then I joined Lillian Gallegos and worked my way up in her organization.
Talks with James are planned for later, so I table the thoughts of people moving into our territory as I near the building that houses BB Solutions. James and I will work on those later. I toss my Cloverdale Gazette into a nearby bin as I reach it. It is a giant silver and ivory tower that seems to stretch well above the clouds. Contemporary and sleek - it is no Rapunzel’s Tower cut from rough stone. There is no way that they didn’t hire somemagical help to get it built. I also know for a fact that the place is witch-warded, besides the regular guardsmen that were hired. The entire building is intimidating and impressive, which is just why I picked it to be my home office.
BB Solutions looks like it is thriving and well-protected, from the huge doors to the well-dressed guardsmen standing watch at them, anyone who wants to get in would have a difficult time doing it without permission. I mean the location to impress for a reason; however, I don’t always conduct business here. This is just for the clients like Charming or the Red Queen who need the pomp and the show. For other clients, I have offices with a little less flair down in the port. Not all my clients like so much … exposure, or to operate during daytime hours. BB Solutions is my little front, and a little joke that I enjoy.
“Good morning, Simon,” I say as I come through the doors. The guard gives me a grin. I know all the employees that work for me or are connected to me. Loyalty is earned, and I make it a point to connect with each person. This tactic has served me well since I was in short pants.
“Mr. Dalmatius. Good to see you, sir.” Simon sweeps his cap off with a smile. “Hope you had a nice walk this morning.”
“I did, yes.” I stopfor a minute in the doorway remembering something I had meant to ask him. “Did your brother get his position over on Drury Island alright?” Simon’s brother had lost a position as a boat captain. I had sent him over to someone that I knew who had a vacancy. Simon’s grin widens, showing a missing tooth. “He did, sir. Can’t thank you enough.”
“Of course.” I remember vividly the pinch of a belly that didn’t have enough food, the worry of how I could find work, and the plague of holes in my shoes. Now that I am lucky enough to have fair fortune, I can help here and there. With a final nod I move on towards the elevator and press the ‘up’ button for the floor to my office.
Arriving at the office, I steel myself for my receptionist. I really need to speak with James about her. Why in the kingdom I allowed her to stay I do not know. The pixie is constantly trying to get into my pants and has no interest in doing the job we hired her for.
Right on cue, as the doors sweep open with a chime, she moves forward. It isn’t a lie that she is gorgeous, with shimmering gold hair and curves for days. Today she is arranged into some sort of outfit that I’m sure she thinks will draw my eye (and pocketbook). In my early days, I would have fucked her over my desk and thought nothing of it. However, now that my pocketbook is heavier,the consequences are bigger, and the business is doing so well I have grown tired of such premeditated advances.
“Good morning Mr. Dalmatius,” she says breathlessly. “How are you today?” Her tone is so sickly sweet I almost have a toothache.
“Hello Neila. Do you have the reports I asked Mr. Atkinson to send me?” Maintaining eye contact is an effort, but I manage. She flutters her eyelashes. I wait.
“Yes. Of course.” She finally says and tucks strands of golden hair behind her shell of an ear. Neila is visual perfection, it is true. Beautiful, but I am not tempted. Her beauty is as cold and dangerous as the sea.
“Reports Neila. Now would be nice.” I grind my teeth. “Please.” I make myself add at the end. The sanctity of my office beckons.
She starts, “I’m sorry. Of course.” Rushing around the back of her desk she shuffles papers and then hands me a stack of folders. “Mr. Atkinson also says you’d want to see this one. The red folder.” She put that one on top as she hands me the stack.
“Thanks.” With a growl, I take the folders and start my walk towards my office without another glance.
“Mr. Dalmatius,” she begins, her hands twisting.
