Chapter 11 - This Isn't Right

There had been rare occasions, in Castle's life, where he had absolutely no idea of what to do. Ever since he had left Kaer Morhen, at the prime age of twenty five years old, he had always had at least a semblance of a perspective on what he had in front of him, which options he had and what would happen if he acted in this or that way. He liked to take his risks, but never without some serious planning. After all, he had a daughter, and before her a mother, that he wanted to see at least a couple of times a year, he didn't really want to die.

But in that moment, as he paced up and down the courtyard of the Temple of Melitele, he didn't have a clue on what to do.

Had it be a normal monster, he'd simply put some apt oil on his silver blade and proceed to slay it and retrieve his payment, but in this case?

They had a mage, or maybe even a Source - which was even worse, in his opinion - with fanatical religious views that went diametrically against his very upbringing, or nature itself in case he was a Source, that kept two heavily bodyguards at his sides at all times. That alone was a terrible thing. But this man also was a ploughing psychopath that kept a vampire in his basement for his own pleasure!

By Melitele's ass, they were so fucked!

"Fuck… fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck!" he muttered. A ghost whiff of the scents he brought with him still lingered in his nostrils, and the mix of incense, sweat, cologne and blood made his throat constrict, to the point he thought he was about to gag. No matter how strong the inebriating scent of juniper in the garden was.

And the fact that he probably had already found another victim made him feel like crap. It was a race against time, if the poor fucker was still alive.

At least they had a name. With a name, an identity, they could at least dig out something, devise a plan and find a course of action. Yes, they were fucked, but they needed to get this bastard out of Vizima. He didn't deserve to live, he was more of a monster than the ghoul he had beheaded the other day. And while walking on the Path for so many years he had learned that often, very often, humans were worst than the actual monsters he was trained to slain. And Bracken was a monster, though not in the literal sense of the word.

Groaning, he took a deep breath and decided to take a walk. He needed to clear his head a little bit, so he headed down to the Hairy Bear, on instinct. He was so engrossed in his thoughts, in devising plans over plans to take down Bracken, that he had forgot what had happened the night before and his fresh ban from the barge.

He remembered only when he saw the owner hauling a destroyed table over a cart, right outside the door. Covered in sweat, red in the face, he was getting rid of all the broken furniture that he had contributed to render useless. Although he was protected by the magical spell Kate had placed on him, he didn't really want to cause more damage. Castle turned on his heels and headed to the other side of the small gravel square down to Carmen's brothel.

The small but otherwise neat whorehouse was already open and when he walked in, many clients were already deep into bargaining with the girls for a better price for the required services.

The Witcher sighed. In thirty seconds inside the waiting room with annexed bar, he saw more tits and flashes of cunts than in the previous year. He bitterly thought about how meager the last few months had been in that department, but then he pushed away the idea and went looking for Carmen. She was the Madame, maybe she had heard something about Bracken. He had already asked her about the black-clad man and she had no idea of who he was talking about, but with a name, maybe he'd be more fortunate.

A short, petite, barely legal girl with long wavy hair and a skimpy dress that left most of her chest bare, approached him.

"Hey stud…" she called, gently touching his arm. "Lookin' for something in particular?"

"I'm looking for Carmen." He pulled a couple of orens from his pouch and slid them in her hand. "Is she working?"

The blondie, smiling wide, pointed at a door, behind the bar. "In there. Bookkeeping. She's not on active duty today though."

"I'm not here for sex, I just need a friend."

The young prostitute smiled again, but he could tell she was about to laugh. After all, who goes looking for a friend in a whorehouse? But above all, who goes looking for a friend in the madame of said whorehouse?

He thanked the still snickering girl and then knocked on the door. Carmen's muffled voice called him in. When he opened the door, he found her sitting behind a simple makeshift desk built out of a slab of darkened wood and two sawhorses, their rusty hinges creaking every time she pressed the quill on the paper. "Carmen, do you have a moment?"

He had forgotten that he was still in disguise.

The fiery redhead looked up from her work. "Who are you?"

He mentally smacked himself. "I'm Rick Castle."

Her nose quirked in a puzzled expression. "No way."

Castle sighed. "I know I don't look pretty much like me, it's a spell a friend put on me so I wouldn't look like a Witcher."

"Eh… I have to say I prefer you the other way. But tell me. For you I always have time. But coming here twice in a week Rick? A girl could get used to it. Please, sit down."

He pulled a chair from a corner and sat in front of her. "But just like yesterday, I'm not here for taking advantage of your services."

She shook her head. "Still looking for that monster?"

Castle nodded. "Yes. I think I found it, or better, I think I found its owner."

The woman raised a skeptical eyebrow. "Owner?"

"Yes… you know I came here asking for a man dressed all in black? Well, from the marks and traces left on the latest victim I managed to understand what type of monster I'm looking for, but beyond that I found traces of a mild monster repellant on the face of the dead man. In fact the face was the only part of the body that wasn't mangled or half chewed was the face. Also, the clothes he wore retained a distinct masculine scent, so I'm sure I'm looking for a man. There were witnesses that saw the last two confirmed victims in the company of this tall, black clad man that has been seen hanging around the embassies dealing with people from the Church Of Eternal Fire. So I went looking for him there."

"And I guess you found him."

Again, Castle nodded. "Yes. William Bracken." Carmen's eyes widened when he mentioned the man's name, clearly in fear. "You know him?"

She shook her head. "No, I don't know him, I've never even seen him. I know of him. He's been living on and off in a huge villa just outside the city, on the other side of the lake. He also has a townhouse, in the upper quarters. He's the scourge of those who follow the traditional religion, the priestesses fear him, he's been advocating for the destruction of the Temple ever since he set foot in town and now that the Order of the Flaming Rose is here, he's even scarier. His power is limitless, only he acts from behind the scenes. People are scared of him, at the top floors."

Castle chuckled. "You seem to know quite a lot about this man!"

"Really, Rick?" she asked, with an annoyed expression on her face. "Some of my clients come from said top floors and you have no idea how talkative they get when they've just fucked and are downing a bottle of wine. Words get around and Bracken's name is always spoken with fearful voice!"

"I'm not surprised, he's creepy as fuck," he mused. "You said he lives outside the city?"

"Yes," asserted Carmen. "I'm not exactly sure where, but he lives outside the city. He has a townhouse near the embassy, or so one of his lackeys with a loose tongue said some time ago."

Pensive, Castle tapped his fingers on his knee. Everything he learned gave him a little bit more to work on, yet they were at square one if they wanted to bring him to justice the right way.

Truth was, he had little hope they'd manage to prove he was behind those murders, as Bracken was a highly intelligent, albeit sociopathic, person. He had left little tangible traces of his passage both on the secondary scenes and on the bodies, they had no way to prove he was actually there. It had taken a Witcher to find those details that had allowed him to track Bracken down, and he had been killing for more than twenty years.

If only he had found the contract earlier… But what Kate had said about the contract posted on the notice board was right. The piece of parchment was nearly blank after so much time exposed to the weather and buried beneath more recent notices and posts.

He had the feeling Bracken had a lot to do with the fact that no one had ever taken care to post a newer, more legible notice.

"Castle?" Carmen's voice brought him back from his thoughts. "You alright?"

A little startled, he nodded. "Yes Carmen, I was just thinking."

"Need anything else? I'm kind of busy at the moment, but if you need more information about Bracken I can try to dig something out. There's quite a lot of movement out there, maybe I can find someone from the embassies to fool and have him spill something."

He snorted, loud, trying not to burst into a heartfelt laugh. "No Carmen, thank you. I don't doubt you'd be more than capable to extort any information from anyone, I've tasted your abilities first hand. Truth is, I highly doubt you'd be able to find anything because he's extremely careful when he kills. But thank you for the offer."

She shrugged. "The offer stands. You just need to come here and ask me nicely."

"I'll keep that in mind." He stood. "Come on, time to go back out and keep investigating. My employer would want to know what I found out today."

The Madame stood herself and escorted him to the door, her arm hooked around his. "Color me curious, who's your employer?"

"Kate Beckett." She grasped his bicep with a little more strength. "You know her?"

"Of course I do. We all go to her when we need something for… you know… job's hazards."

"I understand perfectly well. I've been told she's a good healer."

"You have no idea. She's exceptional. Of all the healers that came and went to Vizima, she's the best, extraordinary. Kind, compassionate, never judges… she treats everyone, from the lowest whore to the richest noblewoman in town. If I were you, I'd keep her as a close friend, after you finished with the contract. In your line of work, a skilled healer as a friend could prove useful."

Didn't he know?

As usual, Carmen proved to be extremely useful. Her knowledge of the underground of Temeria's capital city was unmatched, and the information she had provided only consolidated his already strong conviction that Bracken was the responsible of those murders.

Time to report to Kate. She was still working, she'd be until mid afternoon, but she needed to know. And while on duty, she might be able to gather more about Bracken. But he needed to know where she was.

He found her location just inside the guard post, not too far from Carmen's brothel. By the door, a charming yet stern looking woman from Zerrikania, judging by her beautiful dark skin, sat behind a desk covered in parchment. "May I help you?" she asked, taking off the thick wooden framed glasses. Her voice was plain but full of authority. Was she Beckett's captain?

"Yes ma'am, I…"

She stopped him before he could finish his sentence. "You may call your mother ma'am, I'm Captain Victoria Gates, I share responsibility of the city guards with Captain Vincent Meys. You can either address me as Sir or Captain. Now tell me, who are you and what do you want?"

He extended his hand, slightly intimidated by how stern Captain Gates looked. "I'm Richard Castle. Witcher." They shook hands. "I'm looking for Kate Beckett. I have important things to discuss with her."

"Why does a Witcher need to talk to Officer Beckett?"

"I'm handling a contract issued by the City of Vizima and she helped me finding some information about a monster I'm tracking. Now I found more, but I need her to confirm what I learned."

The captain looked up at him, her stare so intense it creeped him out a little bit. "Alright Mister Castle. I'll bite and I'll tell you where she's stationed today. But if you distract her from her duty for too long, you're going to regret it."

Castle curtly bowed. "I'll take care not to steal too much time from her duty, Captain. Thank you."

Beckett was stationed to the Miller's Gate. It was the most used gate of the eastern side of the city, it gave straight on the road to the Outskirts, and at the moment, with the plague going on, it was one of the few open gates of Vizima. Guards were in charge of checking the health of those who entered and those who walked out, in order to avoid more contagious loci inside the city. It was a tough job, and he was lucky he was a Witcher, therefore immune to any type of diseases, and they had let him pass faster than the others in line with him.

When he arrived there, she was checking the documents of a travelling merchant, while Esposito and Ryan checked the members of the caravan for any early sign of the plague. When they were done with the small troop, Castle called her. "Beckett!"

She turned, swiping her long hair away from her face. "Hey Castle! What are you doing here?"

"I have news. I've found the man in black."

"What?" she shrieked, completely bewildered by the news. "So fast? How did you do it?"

"I followed the trail of death he left behind him," he joked. "No actually he came to me, at the Temple. I pulled out my best kaedweni accent and now I know his name. It's William Bracken."

Her eyes shot wide open in disbelief when he mentioned the name. "No, it can't be!"

"Trust me, I met him. He came close enough that I could pick up the very mix of scents I found on the last victim's clothes. And new blood. He's got a new victim somewhere."

Beckett cursed. Loud. It was a borderline blasphemy and it surprised him. He didn't think she had it in her. Usually sorceresses were poised and calm when in public. In private, in their own secluded laboratories, they could curse worse than Skellige's sailors, but in public they were taught to be nearly frigid. She probably hadn't attended that lecture.

"You sure?"

"I'll be sure when I'll find the fleder or the katakan chained or hibernated in his basement, but yes, I'm quite sure it's him. The mix of scents he brings with him is too unique to mistake it."

She heaved a sigh and rested her hands on her hips. "We're fucked."

"That's what I said. Would you mind take the spell off?"

She jolted, as if electrocuted by lightning. "Yes sure." She waved her hand and murmured a spell, then looked at him from head to toe. "There you go. No traces left, you're Richard Castle again."

"Thanks. But be ready to pull Richard Rogers out of your bag of tricks again, because I've been personally invited at the embassy for a private hearing with the priest of the Eternal Fire."

Beckett sighed again. "I don't even want to know how you did that. Bracken is a reclusive person, he travels with at least a bodyguard and his mansion is a fortress, no way in hell or heaven that you could sneak in."

Castle tapped his fingers on the hilt of the knife he kept tucked in his belt. "What if I get myself invited?"

She raised her eyebrow, skeptical. "At his mansion?"

"Exactly," he explained. "After all, he thinks I'm a kaedweni novelist and a devotee of the Church. He said his door is open, at the embassy, for private function. I could try to befriend him, I mean… I'm a good liar and I can keep the facade up for a night or two."

"Does he know you write about a Redanian Witcher turned spy that defected to the Temerians and is now a Blue Stripe special agent undercover with a knack for undermining the Church's criminal activities?"

"Oh, I just killed Derrick, I can always make up a lie about having killed him because I recently saw the light of the Eternal Fire!" He waved it off as if it was nothing.

Suddenly, Beckett went rigid on the spot. "You what? You killed Derrick?" she snapped, just as loud as she had cursed just a moment earlier once she had learned about Bracken. "Why the fuck would you even do that?"

"Because I got bored with him and…"

Something caught his eyes. A movement, in his peripheral vision, to his right. His monster slayer instinct kicked in and his right hand went straight to the hilt of his silver sword. He turned to his right and looked more closely towards the watermill, just down a ditch.

"Castle?" Beckett called to him, but he ignored her, as he kept his eyes trained on that spot where he had seen something move. Something greenish, translucent and oily.

"Castle what are you doing?" prodded Ryan behind him, but the Witcher ignored him too. He took a step towards the ditch and noticed another movement.

He barely had the time to push Beckett out of the way before the long tongue of a Water Hag, a monster typically found on riverbeds and bogs, wrapped around his neck and pulled. The strong drawing force made him lose his balance and he fell down the muddy ditch with a loud yelp. He slid on his back, the thick, slimy tongue cut off his breath and as the monster dragged him towards the water, he tried to pry it away but it was too strong and slippery. His fingers, no matter how strong, didn't have enough grip to grasp the muscle and detach it from his neck.

Faster than he could say I'm gonna cut your head off he landed in the murky waters with a splash and a gasp when the hag unwrapped its tongue off his neck. The cold water shocked him enough that he jolted on his feet so fast he still had to draw his first breath after the hag had let him go. As soon as he was standing again, the hag tried to grab him with its tongue again. This time, Castle was not caught off guard trying to protect something else. He raised his left, non dominant arm and the slippery muscle wrapped around it and not his neck. He grabbed it as best as he could to hold it in place then pulled, hard. The monster stumbled and fell to its knees with a pain-filled hiss, but Castle didn't stop. He unsheathed his hunting knife and cut the tongue with a swift downward blow. The monster cried in pain as the long tongue snapped back in its tongue, but the Witcher wasn't done with it. He threw the blood dripping knife at the monster, sticking the blade right between the eyes.

It wasn't nearly enough to kill it though. It was a normal steel blade, it would hurt it but it wasn't nearly enough to kill it. It took a second, brutal cleave with his silver sword between the head and the shoulder to get rid of it forever. Or at least until someone else with a strong resentment or will to live died in the murky waters of the river and turned into another hag.

It all happened in less than ten seconds, so fast Beckett hadn't had the time to stand up again and both Ryan and Esposito, along with the two other guards beside them, were still helplessly stuck like codfishes hung out to dry on a sunny day.

With a clean cloth he always kept in a water resistant pouch, Castle cleaned both the sword and the knife before sheathing them, then grabbed the severed head of the hag by its stringy, plastered hair with one hand and the lifeless body with the other. He dragged them on the riverbank, on a dry patch of sand and gravel, before igniting the corpse in order to burn it and avoid dangerous necrophagers looking for a fresh meal, then he walked back up the ditch to the stunned guards.

Dripping in muddy water, slightly cold and definitely in a bad moon, Castle sighed as he threw the soggy monster's head a couple of yards ahead of him. "What? You've never seen a water hag?"

Esposito and Ryan, mouths open wide in stupor, shook their heads. "Nope…"

His shoulders sagged. "Do you know if there's a contract posted for a water hag in this area? It would be nice to get wet for a reason."

"The villagers of the village on the other side of the bridge have been whining for a while about disappeared cattle," said one of the unnarmed guards that were helping with the sorting of documents for those who wanted to go in and out Vizima. "Maybe you can go and ask their mayor."

He looked towards the other end of the bridge. He knew the mayor, a racist prick more interested in extorting money from his subjects than anything else. Surely he would never pay the right price for a water hag, considering how he had tried to coerce a lower price than they had established for the pack of drowners only a week before.

He looked down at the head in his hand. Strange. Water hags usually were in command of pack of drowners, and this one looked fairly old, at least ten or fifteen years, considering the warts on the now burning body and the ruinous state of its teeth, but he had exterminated at least twenty, if not thirty drowners just seven days before and never saw the hag. Folks said Water Hags were drowner's wives, but in reality, they were more like their king. Or queen, considering the female appearance.

"Beckett, can you come with me? The mayor's a prick and we quarreled last week, official authority could help me."

The sorceress nodded. It would have taken less than an hour, threatening to kick the shit out of the mayor if needed included, and traffic wasn't that bad that day. They could have talked about Bracken and how to take him down on their way there.

"Want me to dry you up?" she asked when they were out of earshot from the other guards.

He raised an eyebrow. "Can you?"

"I made you look like a socially acceptable member of society. You don't think I can dry you up?"

His shoulders slumped and he pushed his drippy, floppy hair away from his eyes. "Go ahead. You've proven you're worthy."

He hadn't taken three steps and he was now clean and dry, as if he had never taken that plunge in the river. "There, better now?"

He nodded. "Thanks. I owe you one. Want to go somewhere fancy tonight?"

Beckett laughed, loud. A heartfelt laugh that lit her up like a match in the dark. That smile warmed his heart. "Thanks Castle, but no. I think we have more important things to discuss tonight."

"We could always discuss them in front of a nice dinner, some real wine and maybe dessert. You can pull that trick you did this morning with me, we could look like a normal couple and we could devise a plan together. Two minds are better than one, most of all if one of those two minds is a Sorceress' brain."

She giggled, suddenly shy. And a hint of blushing too. Compliments overwhelmed her a little. "We could… Listen, let's see how tired I am when my shift ends, alright? There's a place I've been dying to try, but going there alone is crazy. Toussant gourmet cuisine. You're in?"

Castle extended his hand and she took it, shaking it heartily. "I'm in."

That night, Beckett wasn't tired at all. She quickly washed the dirt of the day away and donned more comfortable clothes before working the spell she had invented on herself and then Castle.

She had chosen a gorgeous red dress with golden lace inserts and crystals. The dress was tight and allowed her to finally show off some curves as it highlighted them in the most gorgeous way. It was sexy but non excessive. Classy, like her. Castle smiled when she appeared at the top of the stairs, a beautiful hand-made coral and silver necklace. She sparkled.

For him, she had chosen a sober but elegant black suit. Tailored cotton trousers, boot cut again, black calfskin leather ceremonial boots, a shiny leather belt with a silver buckle decorated so it represented a hunting scene, a popular decorative element in Kaedwen, white starched shirt with silver cufflinks and a black and gray elegant jacket while beneath the illusion he had the same clothes he had been wearing since morning.

"Shall we go?" she asked.

He hooked his arm and offered it to her, like a real gentleman. "We shall. Lead the way, Katherine Beckett."

About two hours later they were sitting in a private booth on padded benches covered in red brocade, surrounded by a selection of the best food from Toussant, a duchy in Nilfgaard known for the exquisite wines and the food typically swimming in butter. And everything was delicious. They ate and drank their fill, apparently busy in a happy conversation about the beauties of Toussant and how great the weather was there, but in reality, they were conspiring to sneak in Bracken's mansion to gather the necessary evidence to frame him for the murders.

They were in the middle of trying to find a reasonable motive to drop by the villa, between a morsel of bread dipped in spiced butter and a sip of an amazing red wine which name they had forgotten, when a child, no older than twelve, approached their table.

"Mister Rogers?"

Castle needed a moment to realize the boy was calling him, since he wasn't so used to his given name and literary identity. "Yes?"

The boy handed him a piece of folded paper, signed with bright red sealing wax. "This is for you."

Castle nodded and pulled a couple of coins for the delivery boy. He also picked a bun from the basket on their table and handed him that too. "There you go. Go back home now."

As the boy walked away, happily chewing on the fresh bread, the Witcher in disguise broke the seal and unfolded the paper. It was thick, quality paper. It retained a strong scent of soap and cologne, mixed with soot, volcanic sand and lye. The mix assaulted his delicate nostrils and he knew who had sent it before even reading the short message.

Gritting his teeth, he read it top to bottom. "We've been conspiring for the whole evening for nothing," he stated.

Beckett leaned against the table, closer to him. "Why?"

"Bracken has invited us both to a private event in his mansion. Two days from now."

The sorceress grasped the letter. "No fuckin' way."

"Beckett, we're in a fancy venue, you can't cuss like a sailor."

"My mother's killer invites us in his mansion right when we're looking for him? This isn't right."

Castle nodded. "It isn't. I fear he might have not fallen for my lie this morning, but it's worth a try."

She heaved an exasperated sigh. "What should we do? Waltz in there like it's nothing and sneak into his basement."

He shrugged. "Been there, done that. Many times. We can pull it off, we just need to go shopping for some fitting clothes for the event."

"What, my magic isn't enough?"

"Bracken's paranoid, I'm pretty sure he has placed something that block, or at least detect magic. I also need hair dye."

"Anything else?"

"Are you religious?" he asked. At her silent negation, a minute gesture of her head, he replied with a stern but peremptory sentence. "Then all we need to do is avoiding pitchforks in the gut, then we should be fine."

And with this chapter, this story officially passed the 50k words mark! Yuppie!