Erik cursed himself violently. Damn. Damn, damn, damn. The girl had seen him. Now gods knew who she would tell. Giry's daughter or not, she was still gossipy he was sure. Well, there was nothing for it now. He had to focus on finding more information. There was still at least three more hours before sunrise. Sighing, he headed off for the police headquarters, riding Creaser's trot stiffly. His jaw clenched as he thought over what he was about to do. Talk to police… the men that had once attempted to hunt him down and kill him. But then, he was not just going to walk up and ask outright about the Kingrea group. No, it would have to be the head man.
"Go back to my room, Charlotte," Lamar had ordered her quietly in her ear. She had shaken her head violently in turn.
"I won't leave you alone with him," she whispered back sharply.
"Do you think me so unmoralized that I might sell you to him?" Lamar asked gently. She shook her head again.
"He is a dangerous man, can't you see, you thick headed son of a dog?" she answered coldly, glaring at the towering man that stood a short distance away. Lamar placed an assuring hand on her upper arm gently. He thought to comfort her; but there was no comforting her. He was unaware of the memories that this man brought flooding back to her. He did not know of the pain this man had caused her.
"If he does anything there would be nothing you could do," he said firmly. "He is my brother… I know him well enough. I will be fine, Charlotte; now please, go back to my room."
"Yes," Andrew's chilling, drawl-like voice sounded, his yellow teeth gleaming beneath the hood that covered his face. "Go back to dear Christopher's room. He and I need some alone time."
Charlotte shot darts through her eyes at Andrew as Lamar's face closed over with a stone-like vengeance. For one reason or another, Lamar hated the use of his first name- and Andrew knew that reason. He knew it and he used it to his advantage. Charlotte gripped Lamar's shirt front desperately, forcing him to stare her in the face, some head lower then his own.
"I am not leaving your side, damn you," she muttered, searing her mahogany eyes into his grey ones.
"Such a mouth on so little a creature, eh?" Andrew slithered out. Lamar has turned sharply on his heal at these words, twisting out of Charlotte's grasp. "That was the only little dear's vice: her tongue was a sharp one that very often got her into trouble. Not like that half-bitch sister of hers; now there was a prize. Beauty already at her tender age and a completely silent mouth." Charlotte's insides ran cold as fiery ice, her heart beginning to pump furiously in rage. Her sister had only been six the last time she had seen her- six and as beaten and ravaged as the older women of thirty that were kept in that shit-hole shack. She swallowed painfully, wondering what had ever happened to her half-sister, but not daring to ask.
"You should watch your own tongue, brother," Lamar bit out sharply. He turned his head slightly to speak over his shoulder at Charlotte. "Fine. Stay. But if anything goes wrong I want you out of there, do you understand me?"
"Unfortunately," she snapped back, never taking her eyes from Andrew's menacing form. Lamar snapped his gaze back to his brother in the most unloving fashion one could imagine, his eyes filled with the loathing of this man that stood before him like a higher being.
"Make you way to my office, Andrew," he said icily. Andrew's slimy smile beneath the hood turned into a broad sneer.
"Surly you wish to lead the way?"
"I do not trust you at my back," Lamar answered forwardly, his body so tense charlotte was sure that he would break if he moved. "Last time I left you at my back, a blade bit into me." Andrew chuckled lightly, clearly enjoying the memory.
"Yes, well brother," he said venomously. "I would not trust myself at my own back." He turned on his heal and entered Lamar's office without ay farther preamble; there had already been too much so far as charlotte was concerned. She shivered at the thought of being in an enclosed room with this man again, but shook herself; if she failed to protect Lamar from Andrew it would not be for lack of trying.
The three entered Lamar's rich-wooded office, Andrew immediately throwing off his hood and making himself at home with the box of cigars on the desk. Lamar growled lightly, snatching the box away as Andrew lit one, breathing in a drag leisurely His dark brown hair was obviously naturally curly, but the grease that shone in its locks made it stringy; he had charlotte's eyes however. Wide and would have been a beautiful mahogany brown if it were not for the dull evil that lay vivid in their coloring. Lamar tossed the box of cigars to the far side of the desk and sat stiffly in his chair on the opposite side of the desk, Charlotte standing by him tensely.
"What do you want, Andrew?" Lamar lanced straight and true, waiting impatiently for a reason to kick the man squarely in the arse and send him on his way.
"No," Andrew drawled. "It's what you want that matters." Lamar's eyes turned into hating slits.
"What are you talking about?"
'I hear tell that you're looking for information on the Kingrea group," Andrew spoke softly, dangerously. Charlotte's jaw twitched in unease; she didn't like the tone that leaked from his mouth.
"And if I have been?" Lamar asked suspiciously, eyes glittering sharp flint-grey. "Do you know of them?"
"First off, dear Christopher," he grinned maliciously at the way Lamar's eyes twitched, ignoring his second question, "I want to know why your looking for information about them when you obviously have quite the little pleasure bitch right here," his cold, mud-like eyes glanced at Charlotte. Charlotte made a sharp move words the man, but was restrained by Lamar's hand on her wrist behind the table. He squeezed it gently, warning her to stay her ground. Andrew's smile wrinkled his nose as it widened into the baring of teeth as he trailed his dirty eyes upon her. "She seems to care for you a great deal, Christopher. Tell me, exactly how do you use the little wench?"
"How I use my women is none of your business, Andrew," Lamar spat. Andrew's attention was drawn back to his brother, whose vein stood prominent on his neck.
"Yes, well I suppose it isn't," Andrew answered. 'However if you ever wish to sell her…" his voice trailed off lustfully. Lamar's voice was a deep grumble as he spoke.
"She is not now nor will she ever be for sale." Andrew's mouth closed only to quirk up in a knowing smile that made charlotte sick.
"Very well, brother, very well," Andrew said calmingly to no avail. "Now, do you wish to tell me why you're questioning about the Kingrea Group?"
"Two of my women have disappeared; I want them back," Lamar answer roughly. Charlotte's body was trembling slightly now; the air I the room was thick with hate ad malice. "I've hear an ear bit that they take unaccompanied women off the street. Thought perhaps they might have them."
"That depends," Andrew answered. "The Kingrea only take the best off the streets; we've no use for maggoty sluts barely earning their food."
"We?" Lamar's voice was sharp at this word. "You mean to tell me that you're part of it?" Andrew nodded, his sneer returning, along with his wrinkled nose; charlotte resisted the urge to strike the man senseless for simply making such an obscene face.
"Quite so, brother," Andrew said, nodding. Lamar clenched Charlotte's wrist painfully, not realizing just how hard he squeezed in his anger towards his brother. Charlotte squeaked slightly as a sharp pain speared momentarily through her arm. She could still use the wrist after it had been broken, but it was still easily pained if pressured or worked too much. She it her lip, immediately regretting her let on to the small pang of pain. Lamar glanced up at her, then down at her wrist and relinquished his hold quickly. Andrew smirked as he laughed heartily.
"Ah, the wrist still pains you now and again does it?" his voice slithered up her spine as he focused al of his slimy attention upon her. She shivered drastically as a flash of memeory blocked her vision mometarily. A sharp backhand across her face as punishment for biting. An iron-strong grip upon her wrist and a searing pain as he snapped the bone and the sickening, wet sound as the bones cracked and splintered.
"You," Lamar's voice was no long restrained. All of his anger, hate and loathing was given its head as he stood violently, the chair falling backwards with a clatter, causing Charlotte to jump. She grasped his arm desperately.
"Lamar," she said in a begging tone. "Don't." Andrew chuckled, still laxing in the chair easily.
"Yes, Christopher," he said. "Don't cause uproar now."
"I'll cause all the uproar I damn well please, you sack of horse shit!" Lamar shouted, making to round the table, shouldering past Charlotte and snatching his arm from her grasp. He strode to the still apparently defenseless Andrew, who remained seated. Lamar raised his fist, his breath ragged and angry, preparing to swing a punch with all of his being. He was stopped short was something round and cold pressed against his chest.
Erik strode into the candle-lit lobby, its gleaming wooden floors and panels resonating with the low mumble of mummers. He tugged his cloak closer about him, hanging his head under the hood, hiding away from the candle light. Even now, after all this time, and after many a trip to the outside world under his hood, he still felt his heart thump heavily around other citizens. He stopped at the main desk behind which sat an older woman, her hair in a tight bun, strands sticking out in odd places, her clothes slightly wrinkled.
"May I help you Monsieur?" she asked in a bored tone, uninterested even in what lay beneath the heavy black hood that his face.
"I wish to speak to your Sergeant of Police," he answered shortly, blood racing. He hated being but among people. Crude, evil bunch, the lot of them.
"Fifth door from the bottom of the stairs," the woman answered, pointing aimlessly in the direction of the office.
Erik did not even nod, but simply strode to his destination. His breath was short as he neared the door labeled "Sergeant Lamar" in large black letters. Gods knew there was a possibility that he was still a wanted creature. Would they arrest him on the spot-?
He paused as he heard the muffled shouting of a man's voice, and the small cry of a woman- and then the click of a gun being cocked. He froze, heart seeming to stop momentarily, painfully starting up again when he heard another cry form a girl, not a woman, and it was scared, but not hurt. He almost sighed to himself and he strode determinedly to the door. How did he manage to get himself into these predicaments?
He opened the door without a single knock, taking in the scene before him. A young girl, a dark blond, almost strawberry blond, watched as two men, the one in the chair slightly larger in build then the other, however he was the one defending, the somewhat smaller man creating the assault. The girl looked at him with wide mahogany eyes that struck him momentarily senseless. Perhaps only a shade lighter, but Marguerite's eyes stared at him from the girl's face. Shaking himself, Erik grasped his Punjab lasso, preparing himself to through it around the assaulting man's neck. The two men struggled, unaware of his presence, the gun caught between the two hands, both men baring their teeth in utter hate.
Erik aimed his rope with his eyes, his wrist ready to flick the lasso around the top-man's head, but froze when the gun rang out loud and clear.
Charlotte's vision was obstructed momentarily by a pure white wall of fear. Her mouth tasted salty, and she realized she had clamped down upon her bottom lip, a thin film of blood running into her mouth. She heard a groan that brought her back to her senses. Her eyesight cleared and she gasped, flinging herself to the ground next to the laden man.
"Lamar!" the man looked up at her with confused eyes, they're warm grey coloring pained, but not dull. She scanned his body frantically with her eyes, heart pounding. Blood seeped from a wound on his side, but it was not yet pooling on the ground about him.
"Stupid bastard," Andrew's voice rasped to her left. Her head snapped up at him, glaring.
"You're the bastard, Andrew," she spat. "You're nothin' but a slimy snake that's more a cowardly bag of shit then a man!" She stood in pure rage, taking a step towards Lamar's brother, but stopped when she heard the gun click in cocking again.
"Do you want to face the same fate as your dear Lamar?" Andrew drawled, lazily aiming the gun towards her.
"Not if you don't meet it first, Monsieur," a smooth, melodious voice answered. Andrew had apparently been unaware o the intruder. His head snapped about, only to cry out in surprise as a robe bound itself about his neck. He was still for a moment, but then he began to laugh.
"You forget I am the one with the gun, monsieur," he smirked. The rope tightened, causing him to gag. The heat of the intruder's face came close to his own, but then something cold and smooth touched his cheek as the man whispered in his ear,
"Yes, but I am also the one with your neck in my mercy."
Erik pulled the rope tightly with the all of his arms' strength, listening to the man gag, just as the man in the alleyway had six months ago. He was loath to admit it, and a cold stone dropped into his stomach at the thought, but it was a sweet sound to hear one choking again in his grasp. The man fumbled distractedly with the gun, his choking causing him to be unsure of his hands. Growling, Erik looked at the girl sharply.
"Take it from him, child!"
The girl looked at him with wide eyes that still caught him off guard when he looked directly into them. They were so like Margareite's! His hands slackened, and then ma beneath his Punjab lasso took a desperate breath. Erik immediately jerked the rope taunt again, snapping at the girl,
"Take the gun now! Do you want us to get shot?"
Finally, the girl regained her wits and lunged forward, grasping the gun and snatching it away from the large man. Erik pulled the rope even tighter, if it was possible, surprised the man had stayed conscious this long. Pressing his hand to the back of the man's head, he pressed it forward, forcing more pressure on the man's Adam's apple. It was then that the large man finally fainted, limp and heavy.
Erik quickly made his way to the fallen man, placing two fingers against his neck. The heartbeat was fast; good, that meant he wasn't dying. However, he could need care.
"Charlotte?" the man's neck rumbled beneath his fingers as he looked about the room. The girl immediately knelt to her knees at his side.
"I'm here Lamar."
Erik almost smiled when he recognized the connection these two shared. It was like watching himself and Margareite. He looked at the girl now, taking in her detail. Young, but older the Margareite; perhaps twelve or thirteen. Blond hair, almost a red tint to it. Strawberry blond. And those big, brown eyes. Not quite Oak eyes, but Mahogany Eyes.
"He'll be fine, mademoiselle, but he needs care," Erik said soothingly. "Let me take him where I can care for him."
"I'm not leaving him," the girl- charlotte- said with a sharp tone. Erik smiled.
"I wasn't implying as such," he said gently. "You are welcome to come with him, but his wound needs to be cleaned soon before infection can set in." Charlotte looked at him with uncertain eyes, but then nodded.