Chapter Seven
It was approaching nine o'clock. Most people had their front porch lights on.
Roseline had no problem finding the place on Shady Mike's coffee-stained napkin. The house was nestled between other residential homes, with a small yard in the front. The house had its lights on. Someone was watching TV.
Ros parked her car a few blocks away. She climbed out and put on the chainmail shirt, letting it roll down to her knees. From the trunk, she pulled the metal pipe borrowed from Ox and swung it a few times.
She began her trek.
Ros was thankful that there weren't a lot of cars in the area. It helped her odd appearance go unnoticed.
She pulled the napkin out, just to double check this was the right place. Once she was satisfied it was her mark, she walked up to the front door. She flattened her back to the wall next to the door. She knocked, keeping her pipe at her side.
She heard rustling inside as she waited. Her breath sped up.
The door opened. There was silence for a moment, and then a man stepped out of the house.
She felt her hunter sneaking up on her.
Ros brought the pipe up and around the man's throat. She pulled him close to her, strangling him with the pipe.
The man gasped as he struggled. She made sure to dig her elbow into his side as she pinned him.
From behind him, she asked fiercely, "Are you the one who beat your kid to a pulp?"
The man thrashed and managed to spit out, "The fuck is this?"
Ros froze. She knew that voice.
She let go of the man, allowing him to fall forward away from her. In shock, she asked, "Mark?"
Mark rounded on her, holding his throat. He gasped for breath and caught sight of her.
"Ros? What the fuck was that?"
Her mind raced. She pulled out the napkin and checked the address a third time. It was correct.
There must be some mistake, she thought.
She tried to piece together what was happening, while her boss cursed some more. He said, "How'd you find my house? And … what the hell are you wearing?"
She stammered, "I was… I mean… I have to…"
It was then that she noticed Mark's knuckles. They were bruised and raw. She felt a sinking sensation in her stomach.
Her senses came back to her, reminding her of the job she had to do. She reached out and grabbed Mark by the shoulder.
"Mark, you have to tell me," she said. "Where is your son?"
Mark looked at her, rage in his eyes. For a second she didn't recognize him. She'd never seen him like this.
He snarled, "Why the fuck does that matter?"
She hissed, "Just tell me!"
Mark eyed her as he pulled his shoulder away. "He's in the hospital."
Shit.
"Mark. Why is he in the hospital?"
"Ros... If you know what's good for you, you'll leave right now." He pointed towards the street.
Her insides were in knots. Again, she asked, "Why is he in the hospital?"
"It's none of your business. Now, get the fuck out of here or you won't have a job tomorrow."
They're testing me, Ros realized.
The Tolltakers were making sure she was a woman of her word. They had dug up dirt on her boss. The man she had defended. The reason she was working for the Knights in the first place.
Makes it seem easy to be a good guy, Flynn had said. Ha.
"Mark," Ros asked as calmly as possible, "did you beat your son?"
Mark stood, made a fist and tried to stare her down.
"What if I did? Huh? Fucking kid needs to know who the boss is, right? And so do you. If you don't get your skinny ass off my front porch, I'm gonna—"
The pipe knocked the rest of the sentence out of his mouth.
Ros felt sick as Mark hit the ground.
She had made a pact… She had to follow through. Though the Wyrd compelled her, she wouldn't have squelched on her deal anyway. He was the bounty, after all.
He groaned, spitting blood.
Ros grabbed Mark by the shirt and lifted him. She got him to his feet, then shoved him back inside his house. He hit the wooden floor. She stepped inside and shut the door behind her.
A woman, horrified, screamed and ran for the phone. She followed Mark's wife and found her dialing 911. Ros couldn't have any of that.
She grabbed the phone cord and asked it politely to stop working. There wasn't even a dial tone for the woman to hear.
Ros ignored the shrieking woman as she saw Mark climbing back to his feet in the entryway. She strode up and drove her steel toed boot into his rib. She heard a satisfying crack.
Mark groaned and rolled over.
Ros loomed over him. She dropped to her knees, pressed the pipe against his throat, and pinned him to the floor.
"You beat your son so badly he's hospitalized right now. Correct?"
Mark sputtering, glaring at her.
Ros bellowed, "I said IS THAT CORRECT?"
Mark flinched and nodded.
There was a hint of laughter on her voice from the horror of her situation as she said, "Then I'm going to have to hospitalize you."
Ros stood up. She lifted her pipe high.
Behind her, the woman shrieked, cowering behind the couch.
Roz froze for a second. She thought, I'm really doing this.
It's my duty.
She brought the pipe down on Mark, hard, fracturing his right arm. He cried out in pain. Another blow to his torso prompted another sudden crack.
Ros dropped the pipe, and returned to her knees. She grabbed her boss by the shirt and lifted his head off the ground.
"Do you know why I am doing this?" She asked before punching him in the face. "Do you? Because someone was looking out for your son."
When she punched him again, blood began to roll down his chin.
"And because I made a promise," she spat, striking him once more.
Roseline let him drop.
She stood up, kicking him once more for good measure.
She grabbed her pipe, and glanced at the cowering woman in the living room. She thought with a sneer, You probably did nothing to help your son, either.
Ros looked down at Mark bleeding on the floor. She hung her head in silence for only a moment.
"I guess I won't be in to work tomorrow." She added, almost apologetically, "If you leave the cops out of this, you won't see me ever again."
She wasn't sure how vengeful Mark would be. Or how reliable the Changelings on the police force were at covering up things like this.
She opened the door.
Ros spat over her shoulder, "Remember tonight the next time you think about hitting your son."
As she stepped outside, the cold air that greeted her was a shock to her system. She hadn't realized how worked up and sweaty she had become from the brief tussle.
She shut the door behind her. She felt numb.
She started walking.
She woke up to snow the next morning.
