Mirkwood Manor
Chapter 4
Disclaimer in Chapter 1.
* * *
Charlita pushed herself from the wall and tried to stand on legs that had become rubbery with fear.
"I'm not your wife anymore. You signed the papers."
"In my heart, you will always be mine."
"Get out."
Quick as a flash he was across the room. He grabbed her by her throat and slammed her back against the wall.
"That's no way to greet someone whose just returned from three years in prison. Horrible place, prison. I'll have to tell you about it someday. A life sentence for someone like me is a frightening thought. So I found a way out. Back to the bosom of my family."
"Leave us alone, Val. I don't want you here. Your son doesn't want you here. Just go away and leave us alone!"
"Now you listen to me carefully, Charlita," Valgur said, tightening his grasp about her throat, enjoying the choking sounds the woman made. "You don't tell me what to do, where to go, or when. I tell YOU. You do as I say, and I let you live. You cross me, even mildly disappoint me, and I teach you the true meaning of suffering. Are we achieving an understanding here?"
Charlita nodded as best she could.
Valgur smiled and let her fall to the floor.
"Good! Now, where is my son?"
Charlita rub her sore throat and fought to get back her breath. She knew she'd be horribly bruised in the morning.
"At a friend's for the weekend."
"Pity. He must be rather tall by now."
"What do you want?"
"As I said, I want to bask in the bosom of my family. And I need a bit of money."
"Call next time. I'll send you a check."
"And miss an opportunity to see your lovely face? Nonsense."
Charlita used the wall to keep her balance, pulling herself back up to her feet. She moved to the sofa and reached for her purse. Valgur was there before her hand could touch the strap, yanking the purse from her grasp.
Valgur emptied the entire contents on the floor and kicked away what he did not want, until he found Charlita's small wallet. He quickly opened it and extracted all the paper money, tossed the wallet back to the floor and commenced counting.
"Is this all you have on hand?"
"I keep the twenties and fifties in a safe behind the Monet. Of course that's all the money I have."
"Out of work again, are we?"
"I have a son to raise! Rent and bills to pay! Not to mention the debts you left behind that I'm still paying off."
"You blame me for everything. Tell me, Charlita, what happened to us?"
"You happened to us. You convinced me to steal for you. You lied to me and you used me. You even tried to use our son. You made me think you were something special, but the only thing special about you is how despicable you are."
"Do you know what your problem is, Charlita dear? You're ungrateful. I went to prison for us. I never implicated you in our little scam."
"YOUR little scam. You never implicated me because you couldn't prove my complicity."
"You didn't exactly come screaming a confession to the police."
"Because I am innocent!"
"You arranged the introduction. Just because you didn't pull the trigger doesn't make you innocent. And I can still make a case for your involvement in the old man's murder. All it would require is one phone call to our conviction-happy District Attorney -"
"You'd be back behind bars and finishing that life sentence before you hang up the phone."
"Perhaps. But you'd lose the one thing that gives your life any meaning and purpose – your son. And I would live forever reveling in your pain."
Charlita shuttered. Tristan was her greatest joy, and the only weapon Valgur had against her.
"Live forever," she spat. "No one lives forever."
"Still don't believe what I told you?"
"About being nine thousand years old? Please."
This was his one sore spot. The one thing Charlita knew she could use to rattle him, to at least buy her time to get out the door or somehow warn Tristan to run. Something he called his elven pride.
"Every story I told you was true!" he demanded. now on the defensive. "About the first age. And later, the age of Man. Where part of that heritage of yours, springs forth, the ancient ways still lingering in your blood. You believed me then. Why do you refuse to believe me now?"
"I was young and foolish, an eighteen year old with an over active imagination and stupid romantic notions that superceded common sense."
"But you did love the stories. Even now, I can see the longing in your eyes. You deeply desire to hear more. About the race of elves."
Go hard for the pride, she told her self. If she can't kill him, she could at least wound his pride.
"Elves ... Santa's little helpers."
"WE WERE WARRIORS!" he screamed, "Assassins. Artisans. Philosophers. Healers. Kings. A higher, more beautiful race there has never been on this planet. Nor shall there ever be again."
"Stealing money from your ex-wife's purse. How the mighty races of elves have fallen."
Valgur reared back and struck Charlita. She flew across the floor and hit the wall. She was dazed, unable to stand, unable to focus her eyes, unable to distinguish whether the words coming from Valgur's mouth were real or imagined.
"I am what I am because of the race of man, and what they've turned this world into. A chaotic, roiling cauldron of sickness and depravity, greed and lust, filth and despair. I am exactly what you have forced me to become."
"Nobody's forcing you..." she began, but the pain in her mouth, the throb of her bleeding split lip, made her shudder and stop.
"The elves should never have given up this world. Should never have gone on to the undying lands. They should've listened to me. We should have stayed. We should have slit the throats of every weak willed man, annihilated his entire worthless race. We were a race of conquerors. We could have so easily obliterated your kind, wiped the memory of your futile existence from history, and laid claim to this world."
"You're crazy," she managed. "need help."
Valgur took a deep breath and calmed himself. He hated losing control this way. It interfered with his ability to scheme.
"What I need is money. More than you've provided here. You've applied for work again, haven't you? Archival work? I saw the newspaper on your coffee table, the ad circled several times in red. Tell me, did we get the job? Are we gainfully employed?"
Charlita said nothing.
Valgur grab her by the chin and squeezed. The pressure he exerted frightened her. She imagined her jaw crumbling under his force. No man should be this strong!
She nodded as best she could.
"Good," said Valgur, and released her. "I imagine he's some old geezer, with lots of old money tucked away in dusty, old places?"
"I'm not going to allow you to steal from him."
"You forget, darling. You're talking to ME. Besides, what will happen to Tristan if don't help me?"
"You leave my son alone."
"If you're dead, he won't be alone. He'll have me."
"Do what you want to me, but stay away from Tristan."
Valgur wandered to the window and looked out and down.
"There he is now."
Charlita hoped his was bluffing, but feared it was true.
"He has grown. Quite handsome, too. Tell me, does he still have his daddy's ears? Or have you taken him to some physician and had him 'fixed?'"
Charlita felt as if a heavy stone had been placed upon her chest. Her breathing had all but ceased.
"Please, Valgur...
"Oh, now it's please. I tell you what. You tell me what I need to know quickly, and I'll be gone before Tristan returns home. Refuse me..."
Valgur pulled a butterfly knife from his pocket and flipped it around several times. Charlita nearly screamed. He pressed the sharp point against her throat.
"...and I'll go looking for him when I'm done with you."
"Please, Val...I'll tell you anything you want."
"I know you will, darling. That's why I'm here. Now, tell me everything you know about your new employer. Starting with his name."
"Greenleaf. His name is Mr. Greenleaf."
* * *
End Chapter 4. Comments are welcomed. Don't forget to floss.
Chapter 4
Disclaimer in Chapter 1.
* * *
Charlita pushed herself from the wall and tried to stand on legs that had become rubbery with fear.
"I'm not your wife anymore. You signed the papers."
"In my heart, you will always be mine."
"Get out."
Quick as a flash he was across the room. He grabbed her by her throat and slammed her back against the wall.
"That's no way to greet someone whose just returned from three years in prison. Horrible place, prison. I'll have to tell you about it someday. A life sentence for someone like me is a frightening thought. So I found a way out. Back to the bosom of my family."
"Leave us alone, Val. I don't want you here. Your son doesn't want you here. Just go away and leave us alone!"
"Now you listen to me carefully, Charlita," Valgur said, tightening his grasp about her throat, enjoying the choking sounds the woman made. "You don't tell me what to do, where to go, or when. I tell YOU. You do as I say, and I let you live. You cross me, even mildly disappoint me, and I teach you the true meaning of suffering. Are we achieving an understanding here?"
Charlita nodded as best she could.
Valgur smiled and let her fall to the floor.
"Good! Now, where is my son?"
Charlita rub her sore throat and fought to get back her breath. She knew she'd be horribly bruised in the morning.
"At a friend's for the weekend."
"Pity. He must be rather tall by now."
"What do you want?"
"As I said, I want to bask in the bosom of my family. And I need a bit of money."
"Call next time. I'll send you a check."
"And miss an opportunity to see your lovely face? Nonsense."
Charlita used the wall to keep her balance, pulling herself back up to her feet. She moved to the sofa and reached for her purse. Valgur was there before her hand could touch the strap, yanking the purse from her grasp.
Valgur emptied the entire contents on the floor and kicked away what he did not want, until he found Charlita's small wallet. He quickly opened it and extracted all the paper money, tossed the wallet back to the floor and commenced counting.
"Is this all you have on hand?"
"I keep the twenties and fifties in a safe behind the Monet. Of course that's all the money I have."
"Out of work again, are we?"
"I have a son to raise! Rent and bills to pay! Not to mention the debts you left behind that I'm still paying off."
"You blame me for everything. Tell me, Charlita, what happened to us?"
"You happened to us. You convinced me to steal for you. You lied to me and you used me. You even tried to use our son. You made me think you were something special, but the only thing special about you is how despicable you are."
"Do you know what your problem is, Charlita dear? You're ungrateful. I went to prison for us. I never implicated you in our little scam."
"YOUR little scam. You never implicated me because you couldn't prove my complicity."
"You didn't exactly come screaming a confession to the police."
"Because I am innocent!"
"You arranged the introduction. Just because you didn't pull the trigger doesn't make you innocent. And I can still make a case for your involvement in the old man's murder. All it would require is one phone call to our conviction-happy District Attorney -"
"You'd be back behind bars and finishing that life sentence before you hang up the phone."
"Perhaps. But you'd lose the one thing that gives your life any meaning and purpose – your son. And I would live forever reveling in your pain."
Charlita shuttered. Tristan was her greatest joy, and the only weapon Valgur had against her.
"Live forever," she spat. "No one lives forever."
"Still don't believe what I told you?"
"About being nine thousand years old? Please."
This was his one sore spot. The one thing Charlita knew she could use to rattle him, to at least buy her time to get out the door or somehow warn Tristan to run. Something he called his elven pride.
"Every story I told you was true!" he demanded. now on the defensive. "About the first age. And later, the age of Man. Where part of that heritage of yours, springs forth, the ancient ways still lingering in your blood. You believed me then. Why do you refuse to believe me now?"
"I was young and foolish, an eighteen year old with an over active imagination and stupid romantic notions that superceded common sense."
"But you did love the stories. Even now, I can see the longing in your eyes. You deeply desire to hear more. About the race of elves."
Go hard for the pride, she told her self. If she can't kill him, she could at least wound his pride.
"Elves ... Santa's little helpers."
"WE WERE WARRIORS!" he screamed, "Assassins. Artisans. Philosophers. Healers. Kings. A higher, more beautiful race there has never been on this planet. Nor shall there ever be again."
"Stealing money from your ex-wife's purse. How the mighty races of elves have fallen."
Valgur reared back and struck Charlita. She flew across the floor and hit the wall. She was dazed, unable to stand, unable to focus her eyes, unable to distinguish whether the words coming from Valgur's mouth were real or imagined.
"I am what I am because of the race of man, and what they've turned this world into. A chaotic, roiling cauldron of sickness and depravity, greed and lust, filth and despair. I am exactly what you have forced me to become."
"Nobody's forcing you..." she began, but the pain in her mouth, the throb of her bleeding split lip, made her shudder and stop.
"The elves should never have given up this world. Should never have gone on to the undying lands. They should've listened to me. We should have stayed. We should have slit the throats of every weak willed man, annihilated his entire worthless race. We were a race of conquerors. We could have so easily obliterated your kind, wiped the memory of your futile existence from history, and laid claim to this world."
"You're crazy," she managed. "need help."
Valgur took a deep breath and calmed himself. He hated losing control this way. It interfered with his ability to scheme.
"What I need is money. More than you've provided here. You've applied for work again, haven't you? Archival work? I saw the newspaper on your coffee table, the ad circled several times in red. Tell me, did we get the job? Are we gainfully employed?"
Charlita said nothing.
Valgur grab her by the chin and squeezed. The pressure he exerted frightened her. She imagined her jaw crumbling under his force. No man should be this strong!
She nodded as best she could.
"Good," said Valgur, and released her. "I imagine he's some old geezer, with lots of old money tucked away in dusty, old places?"
"I'm not going to allow you to steal from him."
"You forget, darling. You're talking to ME. Besides, what will happen to Tristan if don't help me?"
"You leave my son alone."
"If you're dead, he won't be alone. He'll have me."
"Do what you want to me, but stay away from Tristan."
Valgur wandered to the window and looked out and down.
"There he is now."
Charlita hoped his was bluffing, but feared it was true.
"He has grown. Quite handsome, too. Tell me, does he still have his daddy's ears? Or have you taken him to some physician and had him 'fixed?'"
Charlita felt as if a heavy stone had been placed upon her chest. Her breathing had all but ceased.
"Please, Valgur...
"Oh, now it's please. I tell you what. You tell me what I need to know quickly, and I'll be gone before Tristan returns home. Refuse me..."
Valgur pulled a butterfly knife from his pocket and flipped it around several times. Charlita nearly screamed. He pressed the sharp point against her throat.
"...and I'll go looking for him when I'm done with you."
"Please, Val...I'll tell you anything you want."
"I know you will, darling. That's why I'm here. Now, tell me everything you know about your new employer. Starting with his name."
"Greenleaf. His name is Mr. Greenleaf."
* * *
End Chapter 4. Comments are welcomed. Don't forget to floss.