The Devil You Know2

"A whorehouse?"

John snorted his amusement as the men dismounted and tied their horses to the post outside the building. It was sequestered amid a line of various businesses, all catering to travelers of various sorts. It was too small to be called a town.

Snow fell from the heavy sky. The large flakes were swirling on a cold breeze, covering the dirt and the fancy awning of the building. Rodney swallowed his doubts and followed John into the establishment. He could ignore his misgivings when he needed the warmth of a fire and maybe, just maybe a good meal.

He tried not to think of the other items on the menu.

Red and gold predominated in the parlor. Heavy curtains lined the windows. Chairs and couches were plush invitations, and a winding stairway led up to the more private entertainments. Women were lounging or standing, all eying the two men as they entered with a flurry of snow at their backs.

John doffed his hat, giving them his best winning smile. "Ladies." He glanced at Rodney, elbowed him. The scientist was staring round with wide blue eyes, frozen in place. He had even forgotten to doff his hat. John suppressed a laugh and turned, stepping to the bar. He could feel the assessing and admiring gazes of the women upon him. "Whiskey, straight up, please." He watched the scrawny man pour the drink. "McKay, over here."

Rodney hadn't moved. He stood, staring round at the display of female flesh and ostentatious furnishings as if he had never been in a whorehouse, which in fact he had not.

John downed the drink in a quick swallow. It burned its way along his throat to his stomach, warming his blood. "Thanks." He licked his lips.

"John Sheppard, to what do I owe the pleasure?"

John turned at the Southern, female voice and watched an attractive, plump woman approach. Her scarlet skirts whispered as she neared, and her breasts were nearly toppling out of the black corset she wore. Auburn ringlets bounced with her every step. "Is he here?"

Suzanna Thompson scowled and nodded. "Of course. Isn't it Tuesday?" She jerked a thumb towards the stairs.

John nodded and moved to the foot of the stairs. "Dex! Dex! DEX!" he bellowed. His voice reverberated through the building in an almost musical cadence.

"I would ask you not to cause a disturbance," Suzanna reprimanded, watching him. She mourned that the long duster he wore obscured some of his finer assets.

John ignored her. He took a few steps up the stairs but paused as a man appeared at the head of them. He was naked except for a silken white pillow he held over his private parts. He was tanned, muscles bulging and curious tattoos encircling his arms. His long thick hair was gathered into braids although his mustache and beard were finely trimmed.

John didn't bat an eye. "We got a killer to track. We move in five. And this time you git to kill him." Ronon Dex grinned in response. John glanced past the tracker to see two young women giggling behind him. He shook his head and headed back for the bar, but he paused as Rodney was still standing like a statue. He smirked. "What's the problem, McKay? Never seen a woman before?"

"What? No, no no no no of course I've seen a woman before!" Rodney stammered, blushing. "Just not in such a state of undress." Seeing John's amusement Rodney bristled, adjusting his hat and scarf. "I will have you know, sir, that back in Chicago I am very well-known in the more socially acceptable gatherings and I have even been on a dance card or two. If you will excuse me I will see to the horses." He headed for the door, turned and strode to the bar. He downed some whiskey, coughed and spluttered.

John was trying not to laugh even as some of the women were tittering behind their hands. He walked over and thumped Rodney on the back. "Easy there, fancy man. Don't drown."

"Thank you." Rodney wiped his mouth and eyed the women. "Ladies." He exited the building, face red from the alcohol and from the embarrassment.

"Where did you pick up that greenhorn?" Suzanna asked, linking her arm through John's and pressing her ample bosom to it.

"He's an expert in these matters," John evaded, trying to extricate his arm.

"John, are you sure you don't wanna stay for a little entertainment? I'm sure I could arrange something to your liking. I still have the velvet bindings and the feather teaser."

John smiled, freeing his arm. "Not this time, Suzanna. Sorry. Business to attend. Dex, get a leg up! Ma'am, ladies." John restored his hat and exited the building.

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Carson was watching over his patient like a hawk, as he stood to one side of the bed. Evan Lorne was a mere whisper of a man, clinging stubbornly to life although he was losing the battle. He was aged beyond his years and looked it. His face was wrinkled and his skin dry. His hair was now gray and his blue eyes were filmed over with shock and the depletion of his vitality.

Although he had not been drained to the point of death he was near it nonetheless.

Richard stood, eying the hapless deputy. Compassion lined his face, but not surprise and Carson took note of it. Richard shook his head, adjusting his spectacles. "I am so sorry this happened to you, deputy. Believe me when I say that if there was anything that could be done we would be doing it to help you. I must know…this man that attacked you, had you ever seen him before?"

"It weren't no man." Evan's voice was a gasping breath, barely audible even in the silence of the small room.

Richard stepped closer, leaning in to hear. "And what makes you say that? What did you see? How did it attack you and render you into this horrible state?"

"It weren't no man…the hand…" Evan tried to raise his hand but his arm shook so badly he let it drop next to him.

"That's enough," Carson intervened, seeing his patient was near exhaustion already.

"But I must know what he—"

"If you question him further he may die. He has little strength left to him." Carson stepped in front of Richard, blocking access to Evan.

"Very well. May I see the other victims?"

Carson drew the Pinkerton away from Evan. "No. That is to say they are in cold storage until they can be buried once the ground thaws. There's not much left to see anyway, as you already know. I think your business here is concluded."

"It is not concluded. I assume that you performed an autopsy on each victim. I need whatever you collected from the bodies and your analysis. Plus I need whatever you found on the deputy, particularly around his wound."

"And what exactly is it you are looking for, or should I ask what are the nature of these inquiries as you seem to know far more about these murders than I do."

"Believe it or not, Doctor Beckett, I am trying to help. Regardless of our last encounter I am here solely to aid this town in the apprehension of this criminal."

"If that was so you would be out there with a posse hunting him down," Carson countered.

"Like your sheriff?"

"Yes. Now kindly take your leave, sir. You are not welcome here." Carson folded his arms across his chest, scowling.

"Very well. I will be in town, pending any further developments. I will expect your findings tomorrow. And I wish to speak to Deputy Lorne again, once he has the strength for a conversation. Good day to you, doctor."

Carson watched the Pinkerton leave. He shook his head, glancing back at his patient. Evan had fallen into a fitful doze. "He may not even survive the next conversation," he muttered.