Chapter 9:
Ivy felt the contents in her stomach spill as she heaved and hurled into the bucket once again. Valerie was to be sure that her hair would not touch her lips. Ivy moaned in pain and frustration, touching her forehead with the back of her palm. The poor thing, she's been having morning sickness all day. Her pregnancy furthered. Ivy thanked Valerie and returned to the kitchen. The heat hit them like a hammer on iron.
"Madame Alice will know. She'll know that you are pregnant, now." Valerie said frowning. "What are we going to do when she returns?"
Ivy narrowed her eyes at her "You haven't heard?"
"Heard what?"
Ivy took a moment to pause.
"Her son was murdered yesterday by the river. That's why that Sheriff came by and discussed about Madame Alice and her whereabouts. Her son went missing and now he was found attacked by some wild creature or murdered. It was in all the papers."
Valerie's heart stopped in her chest.
She thought about Papa.
She thought about murder.
"Where is Madame Alice? She hasn't returned in nearly a week."
"I do not know. But if you ask me, Charlotte, she and her lover are bound to hit the road running when her husband discovers her treacherous secret. What does she think? What goes around comes around, doesn't she know that much? Besides, she must be in bed bawling her eyes out. The poor Madame."
Valerie mourned with her. "Sheriff Williams will follow her puddles of tears all the way to the ocean."
"I doubt she'll return tomorrow. Which means…" she lifted her pouch full of bread and pork bundled together. "She won't know that some of her stores are missing."
Valerie gasped, smiling.
"Oh, Ivy! What a dreadful thing to do!"
"Charlotte, you need some food too! And so does Jacques! The city is panicking and everyone is planning for the worst. He's taking some as well. Besides, Madame Alice already has enough on her plate. She doesn't need more. With so much going on who knows when she'll return."
"I suppose."
"Charlotte, will you come with me?"
"Where?"
"To the market."
"What for?"
"What for? To shop for my babe of course! I'm nearly 2 months into my pregnancy and before we realize what happened—poof! The babe will be here crying and crawling everywhere. Besides, my husband gave me enough shillings to purchase some yarn and carriers for my use. He's earned so little in the factory. But he strongly insisted. Don't you think my babe deserves something warm?"
Valerie did care about Ivy and she wanted to be sure that she was safe! She was with child and who knows when that creature will show its hideous face again! So, for the sake of keeping her friend safe she'll go with her. A beautiful maiden with child would obviously be an easy target late at night. Even for thieves and murderers. Or whatever was crawling out in the shadows, hungry.
"Have you heard about the festival happening at the Square?"
"What festival?"
"Charlotte, you poor thing, you hardly get out at all do you? The Festival of Flags happening in 3 days! My husband and I are going and we're going to watch the flags rise upon the stake in the middle of the square to celebrate the yuletide celebration of the city's founding. Everyone will be there. You will come, won't you?" Ivy beamed, eyes glimmering like a beautiful child. She grabbed a hold of her hands and began to prance in a circle. "Charlotte, you must come! You simply must! There'll be dancing and singing and laughing and plays and actors-"
Valerie's eyes widened. "Actors? Did you say…"
"Actors? Yes! They're going to perform all my favorites! The Princess and the Frog! The Boy and the Sword! Oh, there's so much to see! "
Valerie blushed as she thought of Richard in his ridiculous costume prancing around wearing a green frog mask and stealing a kiss from an ugly man/princess and turning into a handsome prince wooing the crowd with his fake dashing smile. Celebration hung in the air but so did murder, too. But what would she do?
"I suppose I could ask my Papa but I doubt I'll leave my home single handed. With so much that's happened. He is a very protective father." She smiled softly, rubbing her hands together. "The whole reason we came to the city… the whole reason I'm here is because my father wanted the best for both of us."
"Might as well." She smiled, rolling the white dough in her sweaty palms. "It'll be fun, Charlotte! Just wait and see."
Valerie wanted to believe her but deep down she knew that something would turn up in this web of mystery. Madame Alice was missing. Her son was murdered. Sheriff Williams was beginning to have his suspicions. Papa was king of a fight club? She wondered what other secrets would be unraveled. Half of the city would be celebrating that night and if there really was a creature, then she would use every wolf instinct to protect the people. She only hoped that her father would track down the murderer and discover its whereabouts before someone else dies in 3 days.
Meanwhile:
Cesaire closed his eyes and inhaled.
Different aromas and strange scents assaulted him and he opened his eyes, pupils dilating. The fisherman was here and his scent covered the entire boat. He was definitely the owner of a fisherman's boat. The scent covered the blankets, clothes, and kitchenware. But another scent was here too. Apparently, the humans didn't do a very good job cleaning the scene of the crime. Cesaire could smell the dried blood in between the floorboards. There were little fragments of smells stretched across the air resting upon everything it touched inside the boat. With his hands he touched the door handles and gently touched his nose, softly and cautiously inhaling what was there. Eyes dilated again. His nose twitched alerting his senses that he's discovered something and he growled. He could smell someone.
He could smell the murderer.
"There you are…" he whispered to himself.
Cesaire leapt from the deck and soared onto the beach like a black bird.
His weight collided onto the earth and he sniffed the area intently, generally trying to search for something other than seaweeds and corral shells and fish. Something had happened here! There were too many scents and smells here. He could smell fear, obviously from the victim. He could smell something else, too. He could smell the murderer like a snake trail, fogged by the wind with little traces of blood. His fingers sunk deep, deep, deep into the sand and rubbing his fingers together carefully inhaling and success! He found the murderer's scent. From his pocket, he slipped out a small glass jar and scooped the beach sand into it. He pushed the cork in.
Cesaire vanished from the murder scene and ran back to his apartment window, jumping in and shutting the windows. He slipped the jar out and began to inhale, heaving in and out, in and out. He licked his lips.
The full moon was coming and he was sure that he would take care of this problem! Valerie had to be protected and she had to be trained. Becoming stronger was the key to their survival. Suddenly, there was a knock on his door. He placed the jar of beach sand beneath his bed and tucked a sheet over it. Predicting there was no danger, he opened the door to find April, his old acquaintance.
She stood there with her fingers weaved together like a statue, not sure what to do next. He could smell tears on her cheeks. He had been expecting her at his doorstep for quite a while now. He motioned his hand to let her in. She loosened her bonnet and entered through his door while her cloak swept across the boards as she seated herself in the living room.
"April."
"Cesaire."
She kissed him.
"Thank you for seeing me."
"You came alone?"
"Yes." She slipped a handkerchief from her apron. "As you requested."
"What do you want from me now?" he snarled.
She wasted no time.
"To help me save my youngest daughter, Vanessa."
Cesaire nodded his head. "From what?"
He nearly froze expecting her to say she feared the murderer too.
"She has the…" she sighed. "Plague."
Cesaire knew what the plague could do to human people. He's seen the bodies pile up like bricks and burned in a huge pile of fire. Torches were thrown on all of them while men covered their mouths with handkerchiefs. It's been a terrible business for a long, long, long time. Humans have dreaded the dangers and effects of such a disease. It could kill them within a month or faster, which only meant the clock was ticking and April had a few days to say goodbye.
"What about your other daughter?"
"She died." April pushed her hand onto her mouth, stopping a sob.
That was unexpected. Her eyes were glossy from so many tears. Her cheeks were pink from sobbing so much. He felt a pang of remorse for her as he was reminded of his own daughter, Lucy.
Cesaire looked at her. "I'm sorry. I really am, April." He squeezed her arm. "I know what that feels like."
His eldest daughter was dead, too.
And it was his fault.
But he couldn't tell her thought. But he could smell secrets upon her. Dangerous secrets. Something that involved him.
"Mr. Woodsten wants you back in the ring."
There it was.
Cesaire smirked at her. "He wants me back in the ring… or you?" he shook his head.
She sighed.
She leaned forward.
"I know that it's asking a lot." She frowned. "It's just… I don't know how to make so much money with so little time I have left. My daughter died within 10 days. 10 days! 10 days, Carlisle! Besides business has been awful these few days with a murderer on the loose and people are running in fear..."
"I'm sorry."
She couldn't hold it in any longer.
"Carlisle! You're the only man who can help me through this and you know that Mr. Woodsten would die to have you reclaim your crown as King of the Ring! I've got one daughter dead and another on the way to the grave as we speak! She'll die in 10 days or less! 10 days! 10 days! As a mother I am trying to do everything within my power to nurse her back to life before I sing my prayer to God and escort her in a casket to the church and say my goodbye's forever! I can't go through with that again! As a parent wouldn't you do anything you could do protect and help your child? Ever since the Mayor took office, everything is so much worse than it was! People don't realize how hard it is to work as a Lower Class citizen anymore! They are born with a silver spoon in their mouths while the rest of us try to deal with—" her voice cracked and her hand covered her mouth, catching a sob. Her shoulders softened and she shook her head. "I'm sorry…"
She sobbed.
"I'm so sorry…" she sobbed again. "I don't know what else to do…!"
Her trembling hands wiped against her apron as her soft sobs came through her mouth like whispers. Cesaire nodded, accepting her apology. He hated to see her like this which earned his compassion, but that didn't earn his complete trust.
But he understood her worries.
After all, he's experienced much worse. But that didn't make it okay for him to disappear back into the fight club underworld while his daughter was still out in the city. He had to protect her too.
"I'm so sorry…" she looked up at him. "But please… you have to help me. Vanessa is all I have left."
She sobbed, covering her hands with her face.
Cesaire leaned forward in his chair, "Listen to me very carefully. I will help you April, but my daughter comes first. She always comes first. I don't care what you say but I will let you know that your daughter will be fine. I will gain the money to purchase her medicine. Be patient. Meet me tonight. Come alone and tell no one. This is the last time that I will help you, April. After this we disappear from each other's lives forever." He leaned closer, eyes glaring dangerously as his knuckles turned white. "And if you try anything-anything—you're the one who's going to lose."
Venom dripped from that last word.
April trembled, nodded, thanked him one more time and then left. Cesaire locked it as soon as she left and he wondered what he was going to tell Valerie when she returned. He wondered how long it had been since he had seen Mr. Woodsten and the fight club brawlers. He wondered if his fight club nemesis still held a grudge against him.
Meanwhile:
Ivy tucked the balls of yarn into her pouch and she and Valerie walked from the store into the crowd of people. They pushed and shoved until Ivy came to her apartment door far from the Market and she slipped out a brazen key. They entered. Ivy hung their cloaks while she deposited the yarn onto her kitchen table. Valerie followed her into a room, cold and dusty from poor treatment.
Ivy pulled two chairs in front of a wooden table. She and Valerie seated themselves as she began to unweave the yarn talking about her husband's paranoid panic of the serial killer loose in the city. Valerie listened while she began to talk about her experience with paranoid suspicions and her dealings with the dark arts.
When Ivy and her family were in the countryside their county had been terrorized with wild rumors of a lurking evil hiding in the forest. But such wild rumors never frightened Ivy; she merely ignored them as folk lore and childish stories.
How wrong she was indeed! Valerie almost laughed when Ivy explained a ridiculous story about a young boy from the far country side, a prankster, who cried wolf and fooled his neighbors!
"I will begin making my babe a blanket. So when it is born I can wrap the angel in my arms forever. Thank you Charlotte for coming with me! I always have a difficult time picking out what colors. Besides my husband never likes me going anywhere without someone," Ivy smiled.
"Not at all! It's getting late. My father will be worried if I don't return soon."
"Alright, I will see you tomorrow morning?"
"Yes."
"Goodnight!"
"Goodnight!"
They embraced.
"Don't talk to strangers. Be quick! Be swift! Jump over shadows and ignore secret whispers! Or else the boogeyman will catch you!" Ivy teased.
Valerie smiled as she exited her home, feeling rather jostled by her last comment. But nevertheless she casually walked back home to find her father waiting for her. She could smell something on him that she didn't notice before. As if he was about to surprise her with something she was not ready for. She shut her door and joined him at the table for dinner. On her plate was a dead hare stripped of its fur and waiting to be devoured by her wolf appetite. He had the same.
"Papa, I'm back." She smiled.
"Valerie, my little one," he kissed her head. "I'm so glad you're home safe. Here, sit, sit. Eat."
"It smells so good." She hummed.
"Caught them as soon as I could." He grinned. "Far beyond the wall. The pastures are rich with critters. A dainty treat for wolves."
On most days she would have excused his strange façade of mystery, but she decided to come forth with her suspicion. She bit her lip, swinging her leg back and forth.
"Is something wrong?"
There was always something wrong whenever he was in one of his moods. As much as he tries to hide it, she can always sense when he's done something bad. He could fool her mother but he couldn't fool her. Cesaire pulled his chair and sat, gulping his drink and tapping his fingers on the table. Caught. There was no simple way to explain this to her. But honesty is what they needed. It's what keeps them alive as far as she knew.
He smiled.
"Eat first then we'll talk about it." He squeezes her hand.
A few minutes pass. She eats silently watching her father from the corner of her eye. He eats the dead hare, rolling the red flesh around in his mouth before swallowing it whole and repeating. She sees his plight. He wants to pretend this is a normal family dinner but they both know that they're not normal. It's like watching a tiger eat an apple. It's so odd, yet amusing. She eats her dinner too, pretending. She's always pretending.
They're both pretending.
His plate is clean and so is his conscious. "There is someone I want to talk about, my little one."
"Who?" she chews.
"Do you remember the woman I mentioned? April?"
Valerie pauses for a moment. "Yes."
"She's asked for my help." He scratches his nose, squirming under her gaze. "Today, in the late afternoon she visited. She tells me that my old boss want's me back."
"Boss?" she narrowed her eyes.
What on gods good green earth would ever—ever-ever have authority on a werewolf?
"What are you talking about, Papa?"
"Mr. Woodsten, my old boss. You've never met him before and I hope you never will. Nearly a year ago, when I came to the city, I had to find a way to make money so I can make a settlement. I couldn't be a wolf all the time. So I had to make my own money without robbing someone. The first I met Mr. Woodsten I was thrown behind bars and shackled in irons. For days I sat there in my cell. I was involved in a pub fight against 5 men when I had taken too many drinks. When I sat in my jail cell Mr. Woodsten arrived and complimented my strength and speed against those men. He said he was impressed and that a man could use that kind of specialty to his needs. He said he would help me. I never knew who he was or what he was capable of, but I was so desperate for a clean record that it was too tempting to refuse. So I accepted his help and found myself repaying my sentence in the ring. I've lead a double life here in the city."
Cesaire paused for a moment.
"It's so hard to have a clean record in the city, Valerie. It was a simple mistake and I thought that no harm would come of it. But I was wrong. In fact, Mr. Woodsten is a very interesting man. He is the master of many houses across the city. All with very different… talents. But his favorite is the Ring. So when he gave me an opportunity to earn my share of the promise, I fought those men every night. Every night I won. I never lost a fight. Now, April tells me that Woodsten knows I've returned back to the city and he requested to see me tonight."
"Papa, is this about money?"
"No. April's daughter is going to die unless I raise enough money to purchase her medicine. The only reason I've returning to the Ring is to save her daughter." He rose from his chair, shrugging on his coat. "She doesn't have a lot of time. She tells me that her daughter has the plague. In these parts, it is a very deadly disease. Contagious. Dangerous. I am the only who can help her because wolves are not affected by any human disease. You and I are immune."
Valerie jumped from her chair. "Papa! You can't! You can't! You told me that we can't draw any attention to ourselves! What happens when Sheriff Williams returns!? What about the murderer?"
"I can't let someone die knowing that I could've done something. Or else I would never be able to forgive myself." He paced back and forth. "I've got a woman counting on me to save her daughter and I can't let her down. If your mother asked someone to save Lu-" He paused, stopping. He restarted. "I've thought about this over and over in my head. I'm going to the ring, tonight. But you must come with me."
"What do you need me for?"
He kneeled down beside his bed. "I need you to take this." He gave her something.
"What is this?"
"I've found the scent of the murderer. In your hands is a jar of beach sand I've scooped from the scene of the slaughter. This is the one piece of evidence that no human authority possesses. This is your chance little one to use your wolf skills. The reason I want to bring you to the ring is because every thief, boss, gambler and master will be there places wages. It's the heart of the underworld…"
It dawned on her. "The murderer might be there…"
She climbed out the window after him.
"What about Sheriff Williams? What if he comes back?" she tugged on his sleeve, stopping him in his tracks. "What if he never stops looking? What if he calls another hunter like Father Solomon? Papa, I'm scared. I'm scared that this will be like Daggorhorn all over again. I'm scared we'll stop, drop everything, run away in the middle of the night a-a-and—"
He hushed her softly.
"I don't like pretending, Papa…" she whispered, leaning her head into his hand. "I don't want to pretend to be something I'm not."
Cesaire growled, "He'll never discover our secret, Valerie. I've had a lot of practice in keeping secrets. Besides, I can smell his scent and predict his every move." He moved the strands of hair from her face and he held her chin. "When the full moon comes, my little one, nothing will stop us. You will know what you are capable of. The full moon, she will show you the way. She will teach you. Knowing who you are is the best thing in the world, my little one. You won't have to pretend anymore."
He kissed her head lovingly, soothing all her fears. He embraced her feeling her trembling hands latch onto his coat the same way she did when she was a little girl. She was approaching the duties of womanhood and he would do everything in his power to nurse her into a healthy wolf adult. Petting her blonde head, Cesaire predicted that his daughter would fear the humans. She feared Solomon and the Sheriff. Cesaire's father never soothed his fears when he was a young boy. But this time… it'll be different.
"Shshshshshsh," he kissed her head. "My little girl is growing up so fast. But you have to know that wolves fear nothing. They love no one but their own kin and the fear no one but their own kin. You will learn this little one. Everything I have done has been for you. Everything I am and everything I will be… is for you."
Meanwhile:
The breeze floated in off the meadow, bringing in the faint odor of pine and soil and rain. Father Solomon and Henry stood together looking out into the darkness. Solomon tilted his head ever so slightly, taking a deep breath. His eyes closed, shutting out the world for, at most, a second or two. But it gave him just enough time to think, once again, how nice it would be to shut out the world for a much longer time. Like forever. Half of his face caught the brilliant luminous shine of the moon, half was cooled by the soft wind off the water. A vague confluence of words began to float through his brain. Then they crystalized, and he realized it was a prayer.
Without realizing it he whispered the prayer through his lips. "…though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death I shall fear no evil."
The prayer replayed in his head as he stepped forward into the darkness leaving the circle of light a torch provided. That's what was usually playing inside of him, like a haunting mournful song. Rough, ragged and smooth like the calm before the storm. Driving music fueled his strength and hunger to hunt dark entities and creatures for holy justice, yet overpowering him with an unusual sadness. He pushed the sadness out of his thoughts. Told himself to force some silence until he and Henry reached the bank of the forest where a cottage stood empty and dark.
"Solomon," Henry whispered softly, barely even audible. "…Crucifix…?"
He shook his head.
"…Holy water…?"
He shook his head.
The creature hunter slipped something from his bag, "Silver…"
Solomon's henchmen were surrounding the house, as well, and while they gathered closer to the cottage he communed with them. Who knows what evil lurks here. Once they were inside the house and once Father Solomon stepped beyond the frame of the door—a large black cloud erupted from every wall and everything!
"Get down!" he pushed back the boy.
Huge clouds of flies swarmed everywhere! Buzzing and buzzing like a thousand violins introducing both men to a true horror scene with blood wiped along the walls, different amputated limbs and arms lay here and there, intestines and tongues and eyes separated from each other in 20 different directions. Human hand prints spread across the floors and the walls, red and dry with blood. But the most horrid was the smell.
"…W-What in god's name happened here…!?" Henry gagged, heaving over and dumping his stomach outside, he covered his mouth, vomited, covered his mouth and tried to speak again. "God… take care of their souls!" he vomited and heaved.
"What happened here?"
"A creature I have seen before."
"A wolf?"
"Perhaps, but look here…" Father Solomon pointed to the floorboards. "This creature does not have paws or fur. It is not a wolf. But there is one thing that I do not understand."
"What is that?"
"It didn't eat these people."
"Of course it did! Look around you!"
"Calm yourself, boy! It didn't eat them! It just killed them." Father Solomon glanced at his gloves and brushed them together, making a considered face, as if about to laugh. "No. No. This creature was eager. Almost playful. The dominance hierarchy is preserved-"
"I mean when they're running down prey." Henry saw reticence draw over his face. "What was the creature thinking?"
Father Solomon laughed, a childish sound. "It was crazed."
"Tell me."
"Ever see a falcon swoop? Hear it screaming?"
Henry thought that was a silly question.
"You've seen them up close?"
"Once." Solomon said.
Henry paused as Solomon scanned the rooms. Each one was stained with blood. It was clear that Solomon was secretive about his knowledge about dark creatures, didn't talk to his henchman about them or allow them to read his notes. Henry said he was fearful of dark creature politics, but Solomon discerned another reason for his guardedness.
"Tell me about it."
He was insistent.
"Many years ago, it was twilight and my friends and I were eating. A parch charged into the middle of our camp, nine of them chasing a young caribou. They'd already hobbled him and they knew he was theirs."
Henry saw a glint in Solomon's eyes.
"They brought that caribou down right in front of us. We were standing 10 feet away, but they didn't see me. They were raving mad. Bloodlust is the only word for it. One of them had his hind legs in the campfire. I could smell his fur burning." Father Solomon walked out the cottage with Henry following, allowing his henchmen to investigate the inside. He slipped off his gloves and sat on a nearby log. "They tore his hams apart and ate his intestines. They were deep inside him. He was still grunting and struggling. It went on for 20 minutes. Finally when the caribou was dead and they'd eaten half his carcass… they woke up and realized where they were."
Henry shuddered, envisioning a man in the caribous place. Let alone a whole family inside that cottage.
"To say they take pleasure in it—that doesn't come close. Killing is like sex for them, a state of rapture. We're omnivores, we have a little of that in us, but-" Solomon shook his head. "The wolf's role in a sheep's world is…"
"Unorthodox." Henry finished for him.
Father Solomon patted his back, "Couldn't have said it better myself, son."
"So what do we do? Those poor souls back in the cottage…"
"Tonight we bury them. Captain!" he shouted," Grab a shovel. Dig graves. Tomorrow we make it to the city."
Meanwhile:
A tall man stood from his perch with two women under each arm as he gazed down upon the Ring watching his best soldier go one on one with a challenger! His darkened face watched as the two men swung and collided against each other like fierce mountain rams, punching and punching. The sheer brutal force of his favorite soldier always intrigued and fascinated him. Tonight, Master Woodsten was pleased.
They put the 'dog' in dog fight! The women under his arm watched as the brawlers fell to the ground, climbing for dominance, punching and choking for survival, roaring in defiance baring teeth and wide eyes. Mr. Woodsten separated himself from the women and called for a drink. Dismissed, the women were escorted out. As a man of any, he enjoyed a good fight.
Every man of a certain business did. Drunken men, cheating gamblers, vicious hustlers, unforgiving thieves, grossers, and dirty constables with their blonde dance hall girls stood behind the wooden stables roaring at the two men to kill each other. Show more blood. Pour their sweat. Break some bones! Down below, in the pit, a beaten and fierce Cesaire watched as his opponent fell onto his back in exhaustion, heaving gulps of breath through his mouth like a dragon. Cesaire coughed, spat on the dirt, and wiped his sweat. His opponent failed to rise to his feet. He turned his head over his shoulder and began to curse at his fierce unbeatable opponent.
"Finish 'em!"
"Oi, finish 'em!"
"Do it!"
"Kill!"
Cesaire, knowingly, glanced upwards to his latest employer with a stern and grim expression. He looked down to his defeated opponent, grabbed his neck, squeezed his air pipe, rolled his hand into a tight fist and delivered a bone cracking punch to his skull.
Lights out.
Sweat rolled down his face as he knelt up and threw both fists in the air, bathing in the audience's worship, pacing around in circles. Two men jumped into the ring and dragged the unconscious man out. There were no more challengers after that. Even Valerie watched as her father paced back and forth displaying his dominance, intimidating them with his fierce eyes and strength.
"King!
"King!"
"King!"
"King!"
"King!"
"King!"
The people of the underworld raised their glasses and punched the air with their fists in unison, chanting as Cesaire walked down the runway. The taste of victory did not satisfy him. He did none of this for applause. He did none of this for pleasure.
The heat of the torches—everyone screaming and yelling—the smell of ale—and the scent of blood made him dizzy. Exiting the ring gave him satisfaction. Quickly, he escaped into his private room and dabbed his face with a cloth, waiting for his daughter. As on cue, she opened the door and he smiled. She paused to look at his face and knuckles.
"Your hurt?"
"Not at all. A normal human would be in pain, but a wolf can withstand much worse."
"I couldn't find the scent of the murderer anywhere, Papa. I looked everywhere and no one matched the scent here. I tried and=="
Valerie quickly hushed as the door opened. April looked inside and entered carrying a small sack of coins with a smile on her face; she placed herself down and emptied the sack on the table. It was money from the fights. She looked almost happy and pitiful. Valerie could smell her despair, like a wet blanket on a cold morning. Her sadness was strong. Cesaire counted his share.
Or so Valerie thought.
Her father stood like a statue, stoic and strong and gave her everything and he watched her face change.
"I thought—"
"No share. We made a deal. I save your daughter. That's it. You and I go our separate ways. And that means that we cannot be connected by anything, especially money. Especially in this place." He whispered as if the walls were paper thin. "Just take the money and go."
She shook her head in disbelief.
"But wouldn't you like at least half—"
She jumped in fright as he moved lightning fast. He shook his head, gathered all the coins in the sack, placed it in her palm and closed her fingers with his. Valerie couldn't believe how… gracious and noble he was being. Back in Daggorhorn, her mother or father would've accepted any money for whatever reason. Especially her mother. But this was a new side of her father that she's never seen before.
"You take it all. It's a start…" he nodded his head. "Take it."
"Carlisle…"
"Just take it." He whispered, leading her to the door. "Go."
Valerie watched as April embraced Cesaire and walked out of the room, sobbing and thanking him 100 times and 100 times again. But before she exited, she whispered something to him that she could not hear. Whatever it was, Cesaire looked angry which meant it was something bad. Valerie could only think of a few people who would jeopardize their means of life. Father Solomon, Sheriff Williams, another hunter or even Mr. Woodsten. She didn't notice her father approaching her, carrying his bag and dabbing his face with a cloth and she froze as his hands touched her shoulder.
"We've got a big problem."
