Part VII: The Evils Of Men

THE WICKEDLY

By

Louis M. Warde

Part VII: The Evils Of Men

             Curiosity was overridden by disgust as Victor reached for the note. Retracting his hand, he clutched his stomach, desperate to hold his meal. Though couldn't Rive tell, a great worry filled the mind of the gentleman before him. A worry for far more than the well being of the late Marcous Bernaduex. He needed to know what the note read, if anything at all. Pulling a book and Marcous' handkerchief from the desk, he folded the cloth carefully around the handle of the blade and set the half open book against the clavicle of the deceased. He was a perfect visage of a disgusted young man, determined not to come into direct contact with death. He thought for a second on the best way to pull the knife from his chest, but couldn't bear even the sounds imagined by his mind. He would do it quickly, and clench his eyes tight to distract and deafen himself as much as possible.

             Rive watched with his back against the door. He'd shut it after they discovered that Marcous was no longer among them. The last thing they needed would be for an employee to walk by and think that he and Victor had killed their employer. His legs felt loose and weak, but not because of the dead man so much as the situation. He'd found himself in increasingly dangerous and unusual places that left serious doubts about his cohort. Whatever was really going on, Rive didn't like it. He was a simple homeless boy who wanted nothing more than to be free from the bonds of poverty, perhaps to even find a real home. Despite the deal that Victor and him had struck, Rive felt that being with this man was far more detrimental than helpful to his situation. Several times while leaned firmly against the door, his body told him to flee, but he was smarter than a notion of panic. His mind held him in place like a statue or a piece on a chess board waiting to be moved by some unseen force. The boy's nerves came undone as Victor yanked the blade from the blood coated chest of Mr. Bernaduex. He watched as Victor lurched and heaved heavily before dropping the dagger and plunging his face into the waste receptacle next to the desk where the food and fluids of his gut found a new home. Rive didn't want to be here, but he couldn't shake the feeling that Victor was more dangerous than he knew.

             It took several minutes before Victor had finished vomiting, his nerves frayed completely. Sweat had built up on his brow as he spilled his guts into the trash basket. He felt ill. As if he were dying of too much exposure to the deceased. He knew another look at Marcous would be the usher to his untimely end as well. To his left, he reached carefully for the blade which now lay on the floor. Victor took in steady, therapeutic breaths as he wiped the blood from the cold, heavily nicked knife. He thought hard about happy, pretty things, like fields of flowers, mountains, lakes in the forests. Anything but where he was at this very moment. Whatever would take him away from what he was doing. Once it was clean, he threw the knife and now used handkerchief away from him and carefully examined the note.

             “Nicollo,

             So long have I been waiting for the day to come when your work would

be undone. You've spun such a careful web of lies that even those closest

to you are still ignorant to your ways.

             Marcous Bernaduex was a thief and an evil man, like you. Know that

your time is coming Nicollo. Your clever ruse is failing. One by one your

crimes will be exposed and soon, soon it is you who I will come for.

Until our most joyous reunion.”

             Victor studied the words as if they were some fascinating lost language. Wincing heavily, he struggled to focus on the paper in his hand in the dim light. The stifling, humid air made his symptoms worse in view of his recent experiences.

             Rive watched carefully as Victor read the note, his already clammy complexion turning paler with each passing second. He wanted to understand what the note said, but his tongue felt thick and unmovable, pressed firmly against his teeth.

             “We've another stop to make, Rive.” Victor said as he pulled himself from the floor making conscious effort to cast his gaze in any direction other than that of Marcous. Stepping shakily toward the door, he knelt down in front of Rive, placing his hands gently on his shoulders. “When we leave here, just pretend like everything is alright. When we get to the door I'll tell someone that I heard a loud noise from the back rooms somewhere and then we'll be off.”

             “Right, okay.” Replied Rive taking in a deep breath.

             They stepped out from the room stiffly at first, shaking off the moment that was now behind them, then they left. It was like they had come from a room filled with happy as they sauntered out from the halls to the front door. At the bar Victor leaned over the counter, calling the bartender forward. He whispered something into his ear before straightening up and pointing with his eyes to the back room. Without the slightest display of concern or suspect, the bartender whispered into another employees ear who quickly trotted off to the back hall and out of sight.

             Back outside, they were both relieved to be free from the filthy air inside. Victor shook, his skin feeling like a thousand tiny bugs crawling over him. Regaining his composure, his eyes fell on a silhouette across the street. He felt the gaze of whoever it was scrutinizing every aspect of him. Furrowing his brow, Victor pursed his lips.

             “At least we made it out safely.” Said the boy.

             “Yes, but something tells me this isn't over.” Replied Victor as he put his hand on his young companion's back as if to say 'come along now, there is much yet to do.'

            

             They arrived at Edmond Degafedon's home only a few blocks away. No answer when they knocked, but the door was unlocked. Inside they found another grisly scene. Edmond was slain as well, with another note in his back.

             Again the note referred to this Nicollo. And again it told of his crimes. Edmond had been a trader by nature, but as the note said, it was his trading of exceptionally young women that lead to his demise. But the contents of this note as well would be hidden from the boy at his side. Outside this place, Victor saw again the silhouette. Shrugging it off again they carried on.

             They moved down the line to Dimitri Cabenoja's abode who had met the same fate as the others. The crimes accused by the note placed, like the others, in his chest declared that he had been a 'collector' of sorts. Reclaiming what was owed with flesh and organs. The words of the paper spoke of his cruelty toward families. Any man caught with an outstanding debt was forced to watch as heinous crimes were done to their family members. Unspeakable acts that dare not be spoken. This as well was hidden from Rive.

             The boy may not have known what was going on, but he knew now, after somehow finding the whereabouts of three murders, that his friend Victor was not as innocent as he portrayed himself to be. It was high time he fled this place, but he needed the right moment. And that was presented to him as Victor, who had become more comfortable with it in only three tries, plucked the knife from poor dead Dimitri's breast bone. Slipping from the dining room where the body lay sprawled across the table, he moved into the hall and down to the door. His years on the street had graced him with the gift of silence. Out the door he went, his fear catching in his throat. He wanted to be free from things like this, free from the streets and the evil of wicked people. But somehow he found himself plunging deeper into the darker side of the world. He bounced down the steps of the home and turned to flee running headlong into a man twice the size of Victor. He looked up and recognized the man as the boss of the thugs from the night in the alley.

             “Well, well,” Said the thug, a demented smile revealing rotten teeth stretched on his face. “I told you we'd get you for what you done.”

             Behind the boy, another thug stepped up onto the sidewalk, and another from across the road. For only the second time since he'd found his life on the streets, Rive felt helpless.

If you enjoyed this writing, please look for the next installment on August 25th, 2013

Author's Note

Not sure how I missed the lack on Indents on this one, but I have fixed It and will pay closer attention in the future.