The Clockwork Melody

By The Lucy Nation

The world, characters and locations of Thief © Looking Glass Studios (rip) and Eidos. George Mifune, original locations and characters © The Lucy Nation

Chapter 3: An intruder of a different kind

          My sleep was marred with nagging regrets, that night after George put a stamp on my affairs – Let it never be assumed that Garrett likes to share. Or be touched. I could still feel his insolent grip on my arm. Things like that didn't happen often in my somewhat stable life, let alone from the whelps I usually considered prey. I'm not a man of sadistic tendencies when I think that, either. I think them prey in the same way they think of the poor… and women. Who's the monster there? Not this honest thief.

George had rattled my brain, that much I knew. It wasn't the spirits I ingested or even the jovial costume I was wearing at the time – it had been George, the stupid squire, who'd gotten into my mind. Him and his tomboy courage under fire… it would be a damn difficult job keeping him out of my way if we had to work together.

I slept all the next day, until evening, to heal up all the various problems occurring in my wiry old frame. If my ankle showed no improvement by next week, I would be forced to take myself to a physician.

That thought proved even less comforting that George's company, so I used it throughout the evening as an 'It could be worse' type motto. It helped.

***

I'd just finished packing my swag for our gallant adventure when a sharp rapping came at my door. It was only just past six bells, making me annoyed that George's desperation would interfere with my rapidly cooling supper. I had no intentions of sharing what pitiful meal I'd managed to roast with a halfwit noble.

I slipped a dagger up my sleeve, as a simple precaution, when I made my way to the dusty wooden entrance. Peering through a hidden knot-hole next to a silver hinge I saw that my visitor was anything but George.

It was a woman.

Wearing an eye patch.

I sighed. "What do you want?"

"Open up, Garrett. There's something you should know."

I grudgingly unlocked the heavy door and swung it open for her. Like I'd never heard that line before – there was always something someone else thought that I should know about a job or an employer; usually it was only the slightest bit of use to me. What I'd really like to know is how these people keep getting hold of my number.

"You're making a terribly mistake." She droned in a surprisingly deep tone of voice. The woman paced commandingly across the room and planted herself upon my couch, her damp chestnut cloak swooning out around her. While she surveyed my humble abode I took the opportunity to survey her. Brunette, pale and thin. Her lips were inked a cherry red, the same colour as the corset pushing up her tiny breasts. A long burgundy skirt puddled down to her feet – a wet stain ringed the bottom. I noticed the muddy tracks she'd brought in from the door…

"Aren't you curious about your folly?" She was staring directly into my eyes now, trying to gain the upper hand. I broke the contact and turned to lock the door, letting her simmer for a few minutes. I made sure to draw out the motion of walking back to my chair (though I hid my limp remarkable well) and pouring myself a drink. When next I looked in her direction she was biting her lip nervously and gazing at the floor. Perfect.

"Can I inquire as to why this is any of your business?" I grumbled over the top of my goblet. She brightened up.

"Well you're taking up Emily's case, are you not? I'm… a friend of hers, and Mr. Garrett… she doesn't wish to be found." She massaged her fingers as she spoke, a nervous gesture.

"Your point…?"

"My point is leave well enough alone! That husband of hers is a lying adulterer, and he's had this a long time coming – Emily wasn't kidnapped, she left! She couldn't stand that foppish oaf a second longer. If she wasn't such a lady she would have hired me to do away with him." She paused. "Tis a pity she didn't".

"Oh… so let me guess. You're the city's first and best female assassin. Should I be scared, Cherry Lips?' I pulled my lip up into a sneer. "Because I ain't."

She shot me a dirty look that narrowed her eyes into cat-like slits. "No, Thief, I'm not some disgusting shadow hugger like your kind – I have an unfavourable cousin with strong nefarious contacts. I believe you've heard of him."

          "Oh really… who?"

          "Goes by the name of Farkus, sneakiest bastard alive."

I let out a dry chuckle at this. "Wrong, Cherry. Farkus took an arrow to the throat years ago… and I'm the sneakiest bastard alive." She went rigid at this news, unable to process it all at once. Upset sorrow wasn't quite the word I'd use to describe the sudden swell of emotion grabbing her face – more like annoyance. This woman was more concerned about her future plans coming unwoven than her cousins murder. Either way, my wit flew right over her head.

"Were you present?" she finally asked in a flat monotone.

"If you're wondering if I killed him, I didn't… but yes, I was there. That arrow was meant for me."

"Then how terribly noble you were, Mr. Garrett, to allow my cousin to cop the sting of your troubles."

I was a breath away from ordering the lady out of my house, but when my emerald-amber eye managed to catch sight of the wicked grin parting her lips, my anger dropped like a stone. I recognised that toothy snarl…

          "Hmm hmm hmm" She tittered mildly. "I see you're finally waking up, lost boy." Her smile spread like a rip in red satin, revealing sharpened yellow fangs. I dropped my goblet. "Or should I say… MANFOOL!"

I flew out of my chair, knocking it sideways into the wall with a fantastic crack. The dagger up my sleeve became the dagger in my hand, as whatever beast exploded from that noblewoman's body gave off its first bloodcurdling shriek of laughter. Something green and sinewy was pushing its way out from where her eyes had been – the sight of which made me recoil and nearly wretch. Her body was pulsing as if filled with snakes… or vines…

Without thinking I threw the dagger hard and fast, straight for its forehead. I'd barely heard the blade's sickening crunch before I sat bolt upright in bed.

It'd been a dream. A horribly real dream.

I swung my legs over onto the cold carpet, bowing my head over my knees. My heart was still racing inside my ribs. I gazed over at the clock on my wall and saw that it was thirteen o'clock.

I blinked. "What the…?"

A cold, slimy finger caressed my injured ankle, making me catapult backwards over the bed and into the bathroom, locking myself in. My breath was coming in short sharp gasps. "What do you want?!" I yelled, grabbing my sword from its secret compartment. All I got in return was a rotting laugh and the squelch of something heavy and wet dragging itself across the carpet towards my door…

          "I just want what everyone wants, Garrett-t-t-t…" it stuttered the last of my name on purpose, like a drunken guard calling out for a stubborn housecat. "But I'm the one who intends to keep her… so Garrett has to be a good thief and leave my Emily alone." The movement stopped. "Can you do that, Garrett-t-t-t? Can you be a good thiefsie?"

Not knowing what else to say to such a request, I said I'd Try.

And then I woke up again… only this time I was alone in the dark reality of my modest room.

Two things I now knew – somebody was using cheap tricks against me, someone surprisingly good…

And George Mifune had some explaining to do.

Eh, if his conclusions and progressions seem horribly out of character, please wait till the next chapter.

A big Thank You to the Reviewers, for you tread such fine ground splendidly.