Part VI: Darker Still

THE WICKEDLY

By

Louis M. Warde

Part VI: Darker Still

        Victor sat alone on his apartment floor, eyes wide with shock. His mind raced through what felt to him like several lifetimes of missing information. His body trembled as adrenaline coursed through his veins.

        “Hey, Victor!” Shouted Rive from the other side of the apartment door. “Let me in already. What are you doing in there?”

         Looking around, The gentleman collected his thoughts and stood to his feet. His legs wobbled like limp noodles as he turned the latches and unlocked the door. With one hand he grabbed his coat as he turned the knob with his other. Opening the door he saw Rive standing there eyes wide with a mixture of confusion and concern.

         “A change of plans, my friend. I would be most appreciative if you would join me for a stroll. There is, after all, so much that we need do.” Victor brushed past Rive. The young boy shuffled back to make room, trying to make sense of what had happened since he'd been gone. Victor shut and locked the door behind him and the two of them were off. Only one of them certain of where.

         Outside, Victor marched with a gate that Rive was unfamiliar with. The young boy now found it difficult to keep up with his cohort. This is a stroll? He thought as he bobbed between jogging and speed walking.

         “Where are we going?” Asked the boy.

         “Sh, hush boy, you'll see.” Replied Victor.

         Everything about the gentleman before him seemed different to Rive. The way he moved, the way he talked. The way he carried himself was almost entirely different. Before, he walked as one who was afraid of the world, scared of what someone might do to him if only he'd offend them. Now, though, he moved like a man who was confident that he had nothing to be afraid of. He was like a different man altogether.

         Their walk was short, taking them to a building behind the theater. It was a dirty and dilapidated structure. None-the-less, Victor plunged in headlong, undeterred by what surely would have rendered him with quivering nervousness before today.

         As they entered, Rive carefully observed the rooms around him. Grungy floors with tattered wallpaper. The air felt dank and heavy. To his surprise, the rooms were filled with people shuffling and talking. Women clinging to men and other other women, carelessly spilling wine and booze on the floor. Rive studied for a moment the view. It all felt wrong to the boy. His mind began to light up with a flurry of questions. What happened while he was gone; why are they in what looked to be a brothel of some sort; why does Victor seem so different? Thoughts he couldn't answer gnawed at his comfort. As Victor stepped into the open chamber, grabbing a woman by the arm, Rive backed slowly toward the door. He watched carefully as Victor whispered something in her ear. Her eyes widened, then she nodded and trotted off quickly.

         Rive could feel a sense of danger lurking. Not from the brothel, but from Victor. More and more things about the man didn't seem to be able to add up. He wanted to uphold his end of the deal with the man, but the more he saw, the less he was willing to risk to find his freedom from the streets. His mind had already been hard at work to justify his running away right that very moment, to await the next chance to find freedom. As he turned to leave, he felt a tug on his arm.

         “Wait! Where are you going, Rive?”

         “You seem to know plenty well where to go from here, no need for me. I think it's time we went our separate ways, friend.” Rive tugged to free his arm, but Victor was much stronger than he appeared to be.

         “No, no. I'm sorry for rushing like this, I'm excited is all. I've only ideas. I had a sudden revelation while you were gone. I believe I know where we should begin our search. I remember a man named Marcous Bernadeux. He was with me that night at the theater. I think he can give us some answers, and if not, I think he can at least point us in the right direction. The girl I sent you to talk to knows nothing, I'm sorry to have wasted your time there. Don't lose faith in me my friend, I will set you free from this place when my good name is cleared, I swear it to you.”

         Rive listened carefully, Victor certainly did seem different, but perhaps this was who he truly was. The boy hadn't ever seen him very excited. It was possible that this was merely how his demeanor changed when his adrenaline began to flow. Rive wanted to believe his friend, but doubt was filling his mind; though, if he was telling the truth, no-one stood a better chance of helping him find a way off the streets. He had little other choice.

         “Alright.” He said.

         “Thank you, Rive.” Said Victor, as a smile crawled across his face. “When we find Marcous, I will distract him. I need you to pick his pockets, we're running a little low on cash. Marcous owns this building, so if anyone here will have money, it will be him.”

         Victor stood up as the woman he'd spoken to before returned. Whispering something to him, she quickly bounced back to work, acting as though nothing had ever happened.

“This way.” Said Victor.

         The two of them dodged in and out of groups of people as they moved through the rooms to what appeared to be a section of back offices. Victor scanned the area carefully before moving once more, as if he needed time to remember where he was going. They arrived at the end of a hall with a single door in it. A sign posted on the door read: “Marcous Bernadeux.”

         --knock, knock

         Victor waited, but there was no response. He tried to listen for sounds of movement, but it was difficult to hear with the bustling people in the other rooms, and in the lobby.

         “Marcous, we need to speak with you. If you have a moment, I would be most grateful.” Victor urged.

         Still there was nothing.

         “Rive, we need to find a way into this room. If Marcous is in there, we need to speak to him.”

         Rive stood for a moment, as if considering his options. Nodding, he pulled a small bag from his back pocket and went to work. Inserting two small metal objects into the lock, he twisted for merely seconds before the latch unlocked.

         “You never cease to surprise me, my young friend.” Victor said, placing his hand gently on the door knob.

         Pushing it slowly, the door creaked as it slid open. The two stepped in to a disorganized, messy office. Papers strewn across a desk. Dim light stabbed through thick curtains, sending thin bands of light through the room. One such beam was cast on the back of a man sitting at the desk. His back to the door. Large in stature, he was a man clearly consumed with alcoholic tendencies. His long, matted hair hung over his shoulders and back in clumps, having gone excessively long periods of time without a thorough cleansing.

         Victor let out a relieved sigh to see the man he searched for. As if this was the point when things could begin to get better. He stepped forward, smile on his face. What he saw forced the air from his lungs.

         Marcous Bernaduex was newly deceased. A knife thrust in his chest, a small piece of paper wrapped around the base of the blade, set intentionally away from the blood that oozed down the man's striped shirt. Flies buzzing around his body, both Victor and Rive were immediately clutched by overwhelming feelings of nausea and complete disgust. Whoever Marcous Bernaduex was, he could no longer be as much service to Victor as the gentleman had dreamed he would be. No secrets would be spilled from his mouth, only what was left of his life fluids dripped through parted lips.

If you enjoyed this writing, please look for the next installment on August 18th, 2013