Phil Dumas
DEATH by MADNESS
Copyright 2011 Phil Dumas at Smashwords
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CHAPTER ONE
Twisted Willow
Roaring across an eerie barren land a horse-drawn carriage heads towards a horizon of bright city lights. Onboard, a young college lecturer reads the latest entry of his personal diary:
‘JULY 16TH 1790. My services have been called upon by the Queen of a large and wealthy community suffering from what I can only describe as Paranormal Terrorism. There has been much loss of life and the reports of unnatural behaviour are simply quite shocking!’
Following an avenue of Twisted Willow, the carriage entered the heart of Bakiste: a city where everyone comes and anything goes ... with choice of colour, shape and size ... Get pissed, fucked and stoned, in any order was the only order of the day.
‘Make way!’ hailed the coachman, narrowly avoiding the rowdy revellers – Binge-drinking nobles paired with ripe, money-grabbing whores came as no surprise to the visitor of this open-minded society.
The carriage neared the palace, slowly passing the bursting taverns of overindulgent gents and their fine-feathered wives – business as usual but for a grieving widow who had evoked the shadow of her dearly departed.
‘Welcome to Bakiste, Mr Sneet,’ announced the coachman unlatching the carriage door. The tired and weary visitor started to his feet, suddenly refreshed by the architectural brilliance that was the Queen’s palace. A glimmer of hope had arrived in the form of Oro Sneet: a fine spoken man of thought-provoking philosophies spanning the boundaries of Science and the controversial subject of Paranormal Phenomena, notoriously well-known by religious extremists and those who opposed them.
‘Take Mr Sneet’s luggage to the coaching-house!’ A broad figure appeared. His grey military uniform gave a voice of importance to his youthful looks. ‘My name is Kale,’ he announced. ‘Head of the Queen’s Guard.’ He declined Sneet’s offer to shake hands. ‘Follow me.’
Through the well-stocked grounds of innocent whites and loyal blues a path led them to the entrance of the palace. There was an unnatural crunch under the foot.
‘They are the bones of our enemies,’ informed the grumpy guard as they reached a huge oak door manned by uneasy guards. They entered a gallery of oil-painted portraits … images of Bakiste’s monarch captured by the fortunate eye of the artist, although, the work of art was SHE: her jewel encrusted robes debased by her beauty.
‘I don’t know why Her Majesty called you here,’ moaned the guard. ‘The vast majority of Bakiste are deeply religious including the Queen herself. Your science is evil and truly the work of the devil. Science will be the downfall of all the good we have come to believe.’ Sneet remained silent but was tempted to mention that on his way to the palace he had noticed a priest propositioning a homeless, adolescent boy. The boy shook his head with worry as the priest, unable to control the cock under his frock, flashed a shiny coin.
Walking a corridor of polished marble, Sneet followed the guard to the entrance of a darkened room. The guard held out his arm bringing them to a sudden halt. ‘Mr Sneet, Your Majesty,’ he announced with a glare of disapproval.
‘Thank you, Mr Kale. You may leave us now.’ Sneet strained his eyes to see beyond the dark. ‘I am Latarn,’ she spoke. ‘Queen of Bakiste.’ Her voice was seductive, smooth to the ear and warm to the heart, her appearance hidden from light. ‘I hear great tales of your pioneering work, Mr Sneet,’ she said. ‘You dare to tread where others destroy.’ And from the darkness she appeared – a vision from a dream of sensual passion. He bowed before her exceptional presence.
‘A generous choice of words, Your Majesty. It would be an honour to bear a hand to one of such excellence.’ She smiled with unholy thoughts of his worded content. Sneet was a charmer, although he never knew it, his distinguishing good looks and ice-blue eyes had bed many a demanding woman to a frenzied state of pleasure.
‘Come, Mr Sneet.’ It was music to his ears. ‘Let us walk the grounds ... Only darkness can bring out the beauty of the stars.’ The poetry of her words repaid the softness of her voice.
Meanwhile, a commotion had developed in what was Bakiste’s most frequented eatery: A tall, hooded man – his neck weighted by a necklace of ten metal crucifixes – spat obscenities at the diners.
‘Look at you fat sinners with your stuck-up, unfaithful, cock-sucking sluts you call wives!’ He snarled with the voice of a beast. ‘You will all perish as my life begins!’‘Get out!’ demanded a Black noble who owned more than half the outskirts of this sought after land. ‘Get out, before we have you removed!’ The hooded man unbuttoned his fly; whipped-out his cock then urinated on the floor. The innkeeper stormed towards him as the urine burnt deep into the carpet. The hooded man spat in the Black man’s face before barging-out into the street where an audience mocked a teasing farewell. The persecuted noble wiped away the phlegm, ordered a further bottle of the finest wine then settled back into his conversational self:
‘Weirdo,’ he laughed. ‘That’s the trouble with people today: That cheap cider turns them mad!’
‘I don’t need this,’ said the innkeeper noticing that the word DEAD had burnt into his carpet. ‘I’d better call the authorities.’
‘And a good cleaner,’ remarked the Black noble to the delight of fellow diners.
Outside, galloping thumps pounded the ground. The hooded man had returned with a carriage drawn by a horse of the apocalypse, picking up speed with every raging thrust.
‘I told you, you will die!’ laughed the hooded man. ‘You will all die!’
In a moment of madness, innocent limbs buckled and snapped under the wheels of the suicidal maniac as the express train from hell raged towards the busy Inn. Cries of disbelief and piercing screams drew attention to the doomed within but their time had come. A huge explosion blew the heart from its soul as the carriage hit the inn. Bodies were thrown and ripped apart by rocketing debris. The silence was short as the last pieces fell...
Then, incisions of pain – slashed with terror – screamed through the surrounding streets. Flames of serpent-tongues licked away at the finely crafted timber spitting molten embers into the face of Bakiste. The heat was intense as it bit deep into those inside, taken by surprise.‘Fetch water!’ yelled a quick-thinking woman as plumes of smoke bellowed from the upper floors throwing undraped lovers from their nests. A young servant prayed silently as the stairwell gave-way under his melting shoes, a waitress fizzled in front of the Black noble whose clothes burnt and fell from his body.
‘I don’t want to die,’ sobbed a woman enveloped by licking flames.
‘Nor I,’ cried the Black noble, pushing her outside and quickly following off behind. For a brief moment, the inquisitive amongst the water-bearers turned their attention towards him – his future looked bright – he was to be a popular man amongst those who had caught sight of his defined, pert, naked self.
The alerted Kale, closely followed by Sneet, arrived at the scene of carnage quickly joining the human chain of unity driving water through the flaming Satan and his feeding crew.
‘God help us all,’ wept an old man as his blistering wife breathed her final breath.
The fire was soon extinguished but not quickly enough. The damage was severe … Sneet's experience told him that there would be no recognisable evidence left amongst the ashes of these incinerated souls.
‘Welcome to Bakiste,’ said Kale with a grin.
‘Yes. Quite the welcome.’ Kale replied with another glare of disapproval. Sneet was calm, cool, and collected, and that worried the guard – having spent so many years in the company of his grovelling men. ‘Would you show me to my quarters?’ The guard looked towards the gutted inn. ‘But my luggage!’ cried Sneet. ‘This violence has really got to stop!’
The overspent traveller booked-in to a nearby alternative. The four-poster bed was a welcome sight…
That night, his naked body lay restless in a deep and sensual dream of Queen Latarn – her groans of aroused pleasure sending pulsating warmth to his royal urge:
The untouchable Queen … her soft supple lips whispering his name. ‘Rise before me, Oro, and satisfy your need.’
‘But, the danger. Ma’am?’
‘Forget the danger, Oro… Make love to me,’ she cries, untying her mane of long, dark ringlets.
Her almond coloured eyes lure him in.
‘You feel so good.’
‘Send me where no man has sent me before. Send me happy …’
‘… and glorious!’ cries Sneet in his first wet dream.
Suddenly, he awoke! The curtains rustled before coming to rest.
‘Is everything okay in there, Mr Sneet?’ cried the landlord.
‘Yes, everything is fine thank you. Go back to bed.’
The next morning, from his room, Sneet observed a street-corner of congregating gents and a bunch of gossiping, well-to-do ladies clenching their comforting crucifixes.
‘Sneet!’ came a voice with a rap at the door.
‘Enter, Mr Kale. It is open.’
‘I bring grave news, Sneet.’
‘And what cunning hand have we been dealt today?’
‘My men have found two decapitated bodies at the theatre,’ he replied.
‘Then we must leave at once,’ demanded Sneet donning his coat.
‘You look like you’ve had a hard night, Sneet?’
‘You could say that,’ he replied.
‘And what’s the idea of cleaning your own sheets?’ He noticed them hanging to dry in the bathroom. ‘You’ve only slept in them for one night?’
‘Shall we go?’
With the theatre secured, guards stood at ease to avoid suspicion.
‘Good work, men,’ praised Kale as he and Sneet entered with care. The linger of butchered flesh strengthened with the fear of what their eyes would behold ...
‘What was that!’ cried Kale – ‘That creaking noise?’
‘Only noises,’ replied Sneet.
‘Only noises,’ mocked Kale. ‘Such the man, aren’t you!’
‘We have just let the warm air outside into a relatively cold area, it’s just the wood expanding.’
‘Nonsense, there’s something unholy about this.’
They both fell silent as the stage came in sight. Two headless bodies lay in a pool of blood. Kale remained in the aisle as Sneet climbed the stage to investigate the horrific scene.
‘These are puncture marks,’ he informed, lifting a cold limb closer for his analysis. ‘With the heavy, surrounding bruising I would say that these people were savaged by a large, powerful dog.’ He walked the area, then like a well-rehearsed actor he began:
‘These victims were savaged by a blood-thirsty dog, about where you stand.’ Kale looked-on as Sneet continued. ‘Then, in a state of semi-consciousness, were dragged back to the stage where they fully awoke to their fate.’
‘Who do you think is responsible?’ asked Kale.
Sneet shook his head. ‘In many cases, one who leaves no claim of such atrocities is neither political nor religious. They have a point to make.’
‘So?’
‘So, until we can pinpoint the reason for such a sadistic act, we are no nearer to revealing who the perpetrator may be.’
‘Is that it?’ snapped Kale.
‘If you have anything to air, I am all ears,’ replied Sneet heading for the exit.
‘Okay, here's one for you, if you think you’re so clever… How can you be so sure it was a dog?’
Sneet smiled. ‘Has anyone ever told you, you have extraordinary large feet?’ The guard was not amused as he raised his leg to view a soiled underside of his boot. ‘Left boot, Mr Kale,’ cried Sneet. ‘Left boot.’
On exit from the theatre, a funeral possession crawled its way towards their place of rest. Cries of sorrow followed carts of coffins as a cheerless bell announced its presence to awaiting gods. Sneet stood silent in respect as a red-haired, buxom woman, in her late-thirties, hurried towards him:
‘Mr Sneet? Mr Oro Sneet?’ It was Lady Filair, a wealthy widow from his hometown of Ingidor.
‘Hello, m’Lady. What brings you to Bakiste?’
‘I’m here for the Queen’s Anniversary to the throne,’ she announced. ‘I have an invitation to this evenings’ Ball, and signed by the Queen herself … O’ the palace,’ she teased, ‘the fine food, wealthy men and—’
‘Excuse me for interrupting, m’ Lady, but is there a retreat from this leafless hell?’
‘Leafless hell,’ she laughed. ‘A tonic of wild and wicked Bakiste is the order of any good doctor, Mr Sneet.’ Her cunning smile was that of many a promiscuous visitor to this land of satisfaction. ‘Come,’ she excitedly invited. ‘I do know a place.’
Walking the streets of trading business, Sneet admired the evident reputation of Bakiste’s female elite; His fetish for women in bosom-busting basques and ringlets awash were in vogue, and fortunately for him, at a time of his most virile need.
‘Hello,’ said one as her friend stopped Sneet in his tracks.
‘Good day, ladies,’ replied Sneet.
‘He’s with me!’ snapped Filair. ‘I am a Lady! What, if anything, are you!’ Filair looked them up and down in disgust.
‘I am the daughter and heiress to the largest producer of wine in the land – as a matter of fact.’
‘Oh?’ said Sneet showing sudden interest.
‘Come, Oro, we must move on!’ Filair took his arm and gave him a tug.
‘But…’ uttered Sneet.
‘We are almost there!’ cried the Lady, pulling him through a mass of tall, glossy laurels.
The scene had suddenly changed from urban mass to enlivening acres. Sneet took a deep breath and held it with rejuvenating respect.
‘Come on, Mr Sneet. There is a lake!’ The Lady had not lost the roots of her infancy as she raced to beat him to the tranquil mirror. ‘Can we walk the perimeter?’ she begged as Sneet finished a very poor second. ‘Our return will be less than an hour.’
‘But I have work,’ he panted, ‘to complete.’
‘Explain as we walk,’ she insisted, preparing to clear a murky puddle.
‘Less than an hour!’ thought Sneet as he watched her fall in.
Kale had returned to the palace, voicing his concern to the Queen. He paced up and down like a caged big cat.
‘Please stand still when you address me, Mr Kale!’ said the Queen.
‘The killings at the theatre were the work of The Atheist Movement: it has all the right hallmarks. Sneet knows nothing!’ He calmed himself then asked: ‘With all respect, Ma’am, why did you call him here?’
‘Must you question my actions?’
‘I beg your pardon, Ma’am.’
She walked to the window. ‘If you are positive that the Atheist Movement are responsible, then what would you do? Have them all arrested?’
‘I know where to find their leader,’ he offered.
‘Then I leave it in your capable hands.’ He bowed. ‘But I am warning you.’
‘Ma’am?’
‘Don’t interfere with Mr Sneet: He is free to do as he wishes. And our resources which includes yourself, are at his disposal.’
‘At his disposal?’ Kale felt sick.
‘Enjoy the remainder of the day, Mr Kale.’ she said abruptly. He buttoned his lip and left the room. “Oro Sneet,” she thought. “Pleasure me with more than just your good company.”
After a demanding hour of Filair’s pretentious claims and inquisitive-to-his-availability questions, Sneet noticed a field of golden wheat, and as it swayed in the breeze, revealed a four-foot, wooden crucifix. ‘Follow me,’ he said.
‘We make a great pair, don’t we, Oro?’
‘Quite!’ he noticed, pulling her up over a dry-stone wall (Her ladyship had been blessed with an overdose of Mother Nature’s prize-winning formula).
The weather had so far been favourable; just a dilute haze of weakening vapour eased the heat as the intrepid pair stood before the cross.
‘Now what?’ asked the Lady.
‘Keep your hands where we can see them!’ came a voice from behind. ‘Don’t move a muscle!’ Sneet remained calm as Filair longed to be elsewhere. ‘Who are you, and why are you here?’ A triggerman approached from the left, then another from the right.
‘We are just walking.’ explained Sneet with a stiff upper-lip.
‘We are just walking,’ mocked one.
‘Wanker!’ spat another.
‘We mean no harm,’ uttered the Lady, who had a secret fantasy of herself as a cock-hungry Vixen raped by a gang of religious men who had to fuck the devil out of her.
‘What have we here?’
‘Leave her!’ An old man appeared. His frail body jittered under his well-weathered robe. ‘You must leave Bakiste, Mr Sneet,’ he said.
‘Do I know you, sir?’
‘Under authoritative clothes does a false prophet hide.’
‘Who do you speak of, sir?’ In the same moment, an unearthly wind raged through the trees like a bastard-beast unchained. Sneet grabbed the Lady and fought through the rampaging gale. The sky turned black; the men yelled in horror as rocks of ice spewed from the belly of the bulging canopy.
‘Take cover, m’ Lady!’ yelled Sneet, pulling her to the ground as the defenceless cross stood exposed to the elements: With an earth-rendering Crack, a solid beam of bright light shot from the sky and lampooned its existence. Then, as swiftly as it arrived, the demonic cloud returned to its infernal abode … The gang had vanished and so had the cross.
‘Who were those religious freaks?’ sobbed the Lady.
‘Moreover,’ he replied. ‘Why does religion always have something to do with violence?’ He gazed at the scorched crop as a digesting rumble belched across the clear blue sky. ‘I am not quite sure who they were but the powers of their enemy are somewhat immense and looked upon us most favourably.’
‘You, probably,’ sulked the Lady. ‘You’re renowned for being involved in weird shit like this.’
‘You may have something there, m’Lady.’
‘I do?’
The moistureless streets of the city greeted them with genial invitation – alive with good-time folk who had slept-off brain-swelling hangovers for another night of hard drinking and sexual pursuit.
‘What a pleasing sight,’ said Lady Filair, breathing the fumes of brimming oil-filled lamps. ‘Normality, at last.’
‘I will escort you to the safety of your quarters, m’Lady,’ insisted Sneet.
‘No thank you, Oro. I should be cursing the day you were born after what I have just experienced, but I’m not, and it’s just a short walk from here.’ A scene flashed through her head: her and him, fucking in her quarters like a pair of dirty dogs on heat.
‘Are you quite sure?’ confirmed Sneet.
She hesitated as her clitoris begged for pleasure in its dampening burrow. ‘I’m quite sure, thank you.’ She imagined him to be the best fuck ever … having to grip his back with the aid of her long, painted nails – digging in for dear life as he bangs her senseless. ‘I … I …’ Soaked in multiple orgasms she would be taken in every position. ‘I …’
‘Are you all right?’ asked Sneet.
‘No… I mean yes, I am fine! And no, I mean yes! I’ll walk back… on my own.’ She kicked herself mentally: Sex played an enormous part in her razzle-dazzle – “I own a massive great mansion” – life, but there were two types of gain to this not-so-dumb-and-vulnerable-as-I-act Lady: The first was obvious: Gain every inch and enjoy a mile. The second was financial gain: Fuck for the money! The latter she had learnt well, and had trebled her fortune to date – She found it impossible to mix the two: the rich were usually grotesque and crap in bed, whereas, the poor were trim and shagged Ladies as if their lives depended on it. ‘Maybe I’ll call in on you after the Ball,’ she smiled, heading down the road.
On his return, Sneet was greeted by a royal footman who presented him with a trendy, tailor-made outfit and an invitation to the Queen’s Ball. ‘Her Majesty has told me to inform you that she will not take “no” for an answer,’ he said.
‘Splendid,’ he replied, admiring the suit. ‘I will be there, my good man.’ Sneet’s heart thumped as it absorbed the fact that the Queen had demanded the presence of his company.
That evening, a mass of splendid carriages had besieged the palace grounds as the Queen called upon the most rich and powerful to share in her celebrations.
Passing the heavily guarded gates, Sneet entered the palace to the allure of orchestral strings. A stunning display of cultured queens and polished Ladies danced the Dance of Feathers as the men relished in their own outstanding nobility.
‘My Lords, Ladies, and Gentlemen!’ yelled the crier as the orchestra prepared to play Bakiste’s National Anthem. ‘Please stand and pray silence for Her Majesty the Queen of Bakiste!’ The Queen entered with majestic presence; the mellifluous anthem guiding her every elegant step. Her violet gown complimented her beauty, slicing through the hot-blooded hearts of the drooling pack.
‘You’re here,’ whispered Lady Filair in Sneet’s ear, happy that Sneet was there but slightly peed-off that she had been assured that invitation was exclusive to VIPs only. ‘Be very careful,’ she said. ‘If caught in the act, so to speak, the Queen will have no authority in which to save you from certain execution.’
‘What do you imply, m’Lady?’ Sneet loosened his neckerchief and swallowed the lump in his throat.
‘There is a guard named Kale. Have you heard of him?’
‘Yes?’
‘He spreads rumour of you and the Queen sharing close friendship in the palace grounds under the cover of night.’
‘Absurd!’ protested Sneet. ‘We did walk the palace grounds but we didn’t share close friendship! We merely walked the way and found we had much in common.’
‘With all respect, Oro, how could a lecturer have anything in common with Royalty?’
‘She is different to the others I have met. There is something about her.’
‘So Kale was right.’
‘Please, m’Lady!’ He raised his voice. ‘Whether I did or did not,’ The orchestra finished their piece, ‘share close friendship with the Queen—’ The guests looked towards them, speechless. Surprisingly, the Queen did not feel awkward at the least. Sneet lowered his head in embarrassment as the conductor abruptly broke the silence and cued the orchestra. ‘With all respect, m’Lady,’ spat Sneet in a raging whisper, ‘you would be suited to a job with the Sunday rag!’
‘Speak of the devil,’ said the Lady. ‘Queenie is heading your way.’ Sneet’s magnetism rejoiced as the Queen walked his tunnel vision; her lilac hair-ribbon failing to tame-down her smouldering looks.
‘Would you excuse us?’ spoke the authoritative monarch. Filair reluctantly backed away. ‘Who is that ghastly woman?’
‘Lady Filair, Your Majesty.’
‘Never heard of her.’
‘She claims to have received an invite from your most gracious self, Ma’am.’
‘Oh yes … Servants,’ she blamed, ‘invite who the hell they want, why don’t they.’
‘And she told me it was signed, personally, by—’
‘Let us not waste time talking about her,’ she smiled. ‘How does your suit feel against the skin?’ She ran her hand down his arm.
‘Such quality change of clothing,’ replied the nervous Sneet. ‘Thank you, Ma’am.’
‘I am glad you like it, Mr Sneet … May I call you Oro?’
‘Yes, Ma’am. Yes, of course.’
‘I must say, you look very fetching.’ She smiled and twiddled her occasional ringlets of hair – clear as day she found it difficult to play-down her attraction towards him: She would have fucked him there and then if it weren’t for the two hundred pairs of eyes that burnt into her back. ‘I was informed that your luggage fell victim to the flames,’ she spoke – infatuated by the thinking-woman’s man.
‘Yes, I lost my diary as well.’
‘Personal memoirs?’
‘Some … I am thinking of writing a book, you see.’
‘Oh, how interesting,’ she smiled. The chemistry between them was dangerously evident to the tongue-wagging guests:
‘—Kale says they shared intimate moments in the palace gardens—’
‘—She seems different since the last time I met her—’
‘—They’ve definitely slept together—’
‘—I would love to shag the bitch ... and him—’
‘—With unroyal blood, he is either bravely suicidal, foolish, or both.’
The Queen had her goblet refilled. ‘Is there a certain woman at home, Oro?’ she asked. ‘Or are there many?’
‘No, Ma’am.’ He blushed. ‘There is no-one at home who has stolen my heart ... everything else mind.’ The Queen’s pearl-white teeth outshone the highly buffed gold of the palace as she giggled like a terribly amused young girl. She was in her mid-thirties but had the complexion of a teenager. ‘Oh, how I love a man with a good sense of humour.’
‘With the women I've dated, Ma’am, one needs one.’
Again, she laughed. ‘So there is no-one?’ He shook his head. ‘Then she lives further afield, then?’
‘No, there is no-one, Ma’am.’
‘Maybe you can tell me, Oro, in your opinion, why men come to Bakiste and pay for it? Have you ever paid for it?’
‘In reply to your first question, Ma’am, they probably haven’t the time to enjoy a full-time relationship but have clearly held on to nature’s way of being a man.’
‘Very diplomatic, Mr Sneet,’ she said. ‘And, the answer to my second question? Have you ever paid for it?’
Sneet smiled. It was a strange but exciting situation to have suddenly found himself in. And stranger than the situation and definitely more exciting was how a queen known for her innocence and professional stature could speak in such a seductive, prick-teasing manner. ‘I suppose I have indirectly paid for it ... gifts, drink …’
‘What if a woman were to pay you?’‘
‘Me?’ he laughed. ‘What woman in their right mind would pay to … with me, Ma’am?’ She winked. He froze. Everything around him was not there anymore: Just her … and him: an aroused, speechless wreck. Then, her attention was taken and drawn towards two hooded priests lurking amongst the guests.
‘Give me a moment, Oro.’
‘Certainly, Ma’am,’ he bowed.
‘Remember what I told you,’ warned Filair. ‘Perhaps you and I could…’
‘Pardon me, m’Lady, but I need to breathe a few moments of air,’ he excused as Filair failed to pull-off the bachelor snatch of the eighteenth century.
Outside, the grounds lay peaceful whilst the fireside guests basked in spirited jubilation.
‘You still here, Sneet!’
‘Not now, Mr Kale. The guard staggered towards him. ‘Let us put aside our differences, whatever they may be, and save our anger for the enemy.’
‘The enemy? You are the enemy, Sneet! An enemy to Bakiste and the Queen!’ His aggression suggested a cocktail of alcohol and bitter rivalry. ‘I have been watching you with her! What are you playing at!’
‘Hey, hang on a minute, Mr Kale.’ It suddenly dawned upon him. ‘You have feelings for her, don’t you?’
‘Bastard!’ he raged. ‘You are not needed here! It was I who came to her aid when that devil-woman attacked her whilst she slept.’
‘Devil-woman?’
‘That’s right. I found the evil bitch crying at the foot of the Queen’s bed … Crying, I ask you. Do I look that merciful?’
Sneet raised his brows. ‘I can hardly believe that a so-called devil-woman would be capable of crying.’
‘Well, she did.’
‘Where is this woman now?’
‘I threw her devil-buggered-ass in prison.’
‘Have you taken the time to question her further?’
‘You talk of her as if she were normal!’
‘Normal? And how would someone like yourself describe Normal?’
‘Normal? And how would someone like yourself describe Normal?’
‘Unlike her! Anyway,’ he burped. ‘I couldn’t give a flying knob-sucker’s shit-box what she says! God has told me what to do with her.’
‘Quite,’ uttered Sneet. ‘So how did you become alerted to the devil-woman being in the Queen’s sleeping quarters?’
‘I watched the Queen all night.’ He hiccuped. ‘It was when I returned, after relieving myself, that I was alerted.’
‘Is it your duty or just an uncontrollable urge to watch the Queen as she sleeps?’
Bang! Without warning, the infuriated guard swung a punch. Sneet fell to the ground.
‘Let’s see if the Queen finds you attractive with no front teeth, Sneet!’ But as Kale raised his boot over Sneet’s face a ghostly branch of Twisted Willow wrapped itself around the guard’s neck. ‘Help me, Sneet,’ he croaked as it tightened its grip – Sneet lay unconscious. The unearthly branch bowed with increasing strain as it prepared to take Kale’s life. Then, suddenly, it released, catapulting his body across the ground.
‘KALE!’ yelled the Queen. ‘Leave us! Now!’
‘Me?’ he cried, spread-eagled on the lawn. He stumbled to his feet and brushed himself down. ‘Didn’t you see what happened? Sneet got some tree to attack me!’
‘Don’t be so absurd! I didn’t see a thing,’ replied the Queen. ‘You have clearly had too much to drink. Now go.’
‘Paranormal my ass,’ voiced the shaken, grass-stained guard. ‘Sneet is no more than a suave, self-assured imitation of the Devil himself!’
‘Ma’am!’ she reminded. ‘And watch your tongue! Have you forgotten that you are in the presence of royalty at its most highest!’
‘Ma’am,’ he bowed. ‘Please forgive me.’ He was instantly made sober.
‘Go!’ she ordered. ‘Get out of my sight!’
‘Yes, Ma’am.’ He was gone at once.
The Queen lifted Sneet’s head. He awoke, confused. ‘I apologise for Kale’s common behaviour,’ she offered. ‘I will have someone show you to my boudoir. You will find some fresh towels and clean water there.’
Helped to his feet, Sneet followed a servant to the Queen’s private room. ‘This way, sir,’ invited the menial, opening the door. The aroma of Woman overpowered the smell of the recently lit fire. Romantic candles and polished antiques gave a sense of interior tranquillity.
He stripped to the waist and picked a towel from her dressing table of many fragrant liquids.
‘It looks deep,’ spoke the Queen. She had been standing there for a while, doting on his masculine frame.
‘Ma’am.’ He noticed that she had somehow closed the door without him knowing so. ‘I am fine, thank you. It is but a mere scratch.’ Blood trickled down his finely chiselled face.
Like a stalking feline, she prowled towards him; the glow of the fire propelling her breathtaking beauty to perfection. She held out her hand to his wound, touched it, then seductively licked her blooded claw. Sneet perspired under the growing mutiny of his own self-control, his heart pounding like a lecherous brute as she read his illicit thoughts, his mind taking heavy casualties against the overwhelming force that was Forbidden Lust. You desire for me, Oro,’ she purred, caressing his persuasion with notable effect. ‘I can feel it.’ He imagined himself, hanged, drawn, and quartered. ‘I want you as much as you do me.’ She could have been talking directly to his fully aroused penis as it throbbed with an ache to be inside her. Sneet was losing the plot and the respect of staying alive, and all because of what lay between this beautiful woman’s legs. ‘Well?’ she whispered. ‘Do you want me?’
‘Yes ... Yes, Ma’am, I do.’
‘Then, kiss me,’ she ordered. Her heaving breasts smothered her deep hollow cleavage with each passionate breath. Their lips met as she tormented him with gentle kisses. Sneet looked towards the door. ‘It’s locked,’ she whispered, thrusting her yearning body into his hesitant but willing arms.
‘Hang me for a sheep not a lamb,’ he upheld. She giggled under his devouring hunger as the distant sound of the orchestra carried the chatter of guests oblivious to each discarded garment. The Queen stood before him in nothing more than a white corset, his eyes distracted by her crowned glory. She positioned herself on a polished mahogany bureau; the whites of her buttocks mirrored like a shrine to sex itself. ‘I have made love to you in your absence,’ said Sneet.
‘And I you.’ She gasped as he gently entered her.
‘I’m sorry,’ he said. She was moist but tight.
‘No,’ she hushed. ‘Do it … hard.’ And with her word, the gallant voyager began to ride the waves of uncharted waters, pounding her senseless, back-and-forth, up-and-down – do-and-die.
‘Come,’ she cried as her dark locks clung to the manly sweat of his naked torso. Sneet was close to shore, and as the distant sound of the orchestra reached its climax, the brace of resisting separation erupted to the sound of rapturous applause ...
‘Thank you,’ sighed the Queen, stinking of spent sex.
‘Mr Sneet!’ came a voice at the door. The Queen leapt to her feet, quickly gathering her clothes. Sneet pulled up his breeches. ‘Mr Sneet. I know you are in there ... It is I, Lady Filair.’
‘In the name of scientific certitude,’ he cursed in a whisper. ‘This woman doesn’t give me a moment’s peace!’
Suddenly, with a thump, the door flew open bringing Sneet to the seat of his briefs.
‘What are you doing?’ she giggled.
‘It is not what it may seem, m’Lady.’
‘And what may it seem?’ she chuckled. Sneet turned to face the Queen. She had vanished! He started to his feet – curious to her whereabouts. Lady Filair could not help but to notice Sneet’s inflexible throb. ‘Mmm,’ she smiled, cocksure and licking her lips. ‘I knew I should have taken you up on that offer to walk me home.’ She locked the door, untied her fiery-red hair and shook it loose.
‘I must return to the celebrations, m’Lady.’ She wore a black velvet dress that was pulled so deep into her waistline that her bust seemed unreal. Suddenly, the Queen entered with a glare that sent Filair fleeing with nothing but an unfulfilling tail between her legs.
‘Will you join us, Mr Sneet?’ smiled the Queen – pleased with her secretive catch.
‘Come,’ she cried as her dark locks clung to the manly sweat of his naked torso. Sneet was close to shore, and as the distant sound of the orchestra reached its climax, the brace of resisting separation erupted to the sound of rapturous applause ...
‘Thank you,’ sighed the Queen, stinking of spent sex.
‘Mr Sneet!’ came a voice at the door. The Queen leapt to her feet, quickly gathering her clothes. Sneet pulled up his breeches. ‘Mr Sneet. I know you are in there ... It is I, Lady Filair.’
‘In the name of scientific certitude,’ he cursed in a whisper. ‘This woman doesn’t give me a moment’s peace!’
Suddenly, with a thump, the door flew open bringing Sneet to the seat of his briefs.
‘What are you doing?’ she giggled.
‘It is not what it may seem, m’Lady.’
‘And what may it seem?’ she chuckled. Sneet turned to face the Queen. She had vanished! He started to his feet – curious to her whereabouts. Lady Filair could not help but to notice Sneet’s inflexible throb. ‘Mmm,’ she smiled, cocksure and licking her lips. ‘I knew I should have taken you up on that offer to walk me home.’ She locked the door, untied her fiery-red hair and shook it loose.
‘I must return to the celebrations, m’Lady.’ She wore a black velvet dress that was pulled so deep into her waistline that her bust seemed unreal. Suddenly, the Queen entered with a glare that sent Filair fleeing with nothing but an unfulfilling tail between her legs.
‘Will you join us, Mr Sneet?’ smiled the Queen – pleased with her secretive catch.
‘I think I will retire for the night, Ma’am,’ he announced, donning his shirt and waistcoat. ‘It has been a most eventful day.’
‘I will pay you tomorrow.’
‘Payment? Payment for what?’
‘For your services,’ she said. ‘I will pay you in kind.’ She kissed him on the cheek.
‘It’s much too risky,’ he said. She did not care. Sneet eased himself away and bid her goodnight.
She smoothed her stomach. ‘Come to me tomorrow at noon, Oro. My people need only see my face until then.’
CHAPTER TWO
Darkness Evoked
The Queen’s big day had arrived. Parades of celebrational colour danced and sang bringing joy to her troubled land. She waved in gratitude as her carriage rode the streets of loyal subjects. Sneet kept a low profile behind an ecstatic crowd, anxiously awaiting his rendezvous at noon.
As her entourage drew near, his heart tried making a dash for freedom – pounding like a tribal war drum. She was only moments away and had mystically homed-in on his presence. Hell-bent in lust, Sneet was close to vomit. He needed her more than anything he had ever known – in his arms, and at that very moment ... but the trigger-at-the-ready guards would blow his brains out he came within twenty-foot of her.
Suddenly, a warm glowing light beamed upon him as her pouting lips blew him a magical kiss. No-one but he, could see the entrancing light … His eyes fell drowsy to a dream of angelic fantasy:
The Queen – a vision in white – reaches-out from a heavenly cloud as a halo of tiny stars cradles a child over a pastel-coloured field of wild scented flowers. Sneet, slowed by dreamy animation runs towards the infant weeping from its ice-blue eyes.
‘Yes, Oro,’ cries the Queen. ‘The child is yours.’ But suddenly, the sky turns a wash of blood red; spiralling clouds roar towards the Queen and child, and from the clouds come two dark priests. ‘Don’t let them take our child, Oro?’ begs the Queen. The priests bellow with laughter as the screaming cherub is sucked into a violent funnel of spiralling wind—
‘Are you all right, Sir?’ Sneet opened his eyes: A blind man stood before him. His forehead bore the scars of a braided crown of thorns. He took Sneet’s hand and held it to his unseeing eyes. ‘There are trying times ahead, my son,’ he spoke. Sneet leapt as a single gunshot sent the crowd charging in every direction, screaming and pushing like a stampede of lunatics fleeing a blazing asylum. The Queen’s carriage sped-off in a well-trained escape. Sneet bolted to the palace, fuelled by a rush of suped-up adrenaline.
“Had she been shot? Was she dying? Or was she already dead!”
‘How is she?’ he panted – doubled over at the heavily guarded gates.
‘Go on in, Mr Sneet,’ said one, ushering him through. ‘She has instructed us that only you are to enter.’
Running through the halls, Sneet swung-open doors in a tormented state of worry. ‘Your Majesty! Where are you!’ he cried.
He reached her boudoir and entered. A blonde goddess, sat in a chic, figure-hugging dress of deep-red velvet wept at the Queen’s dresser.
‘Oh. Excuse my intrusion, madam, for I seek the Queen.’ He began to exit.
He reached her boudoir and entered. A blonde goddess, sat in a chic, figure-hugging dress of deep-red velvet wept at the Queen’s dresser.
‘Oh. Excuse my intrusion, madam, for I seek the Queen.’ He began to exit.
‘Wait!’ cried the woman. She slowly stood up; walked towards him, then kissed his lips.
‘Your Majesty? Why are you dressed in this way?’
‘Do you like it?’ she asked with a snivel. She wiped her eyes to reveal a brave-ish face then twirled like a ballerina.
‘You are amazing,’ uttered Sneet as she pulled the hem of her dress up to her breasts, exposing her native buff. ‘But, why do you cry?’
She corrected her dress. ‘After fleeing from the scene, I was welcomed by terrible news regarding my family.’
‘Is there anything I can do?’
She nodded her head and drew him in with her seductive doe-eyes to a point where no man could possibly refuse her any request. ‘Would you show me the city through the eyes of my people?’
‘I can’t!’
‘Please, Oro. It is something I could only do with the aid of yourself. News of my loss has made me realise how important it is to live life.’ She kissed his neck and breathed heavily on his vulnerable senses. ‘We only live once.’ Her breath was warm and sweet. ‘Please?’ He nodded like a naughty schoolboy. ‘And would you call me Syreena?’ she asked. ‘Addressing me as ‘Ma’am’ may expose my person.’ He smiled at the thought.
The cold afternoon warmed with the sizzling secret affair. Courteous commoners acknowledged delight as the loving brace walked a carpet of used confetti.
‘Shall we? Syreena,’ invited a proud Sneet, opening the door of a busy tavern.
‘This is wonderful,’ smiled the elated blonde, ‘and in the company of such great wisdom.’ An obese man, dining on his own, ogled at her shapely figure then wiped his eyes to confirm the magnificent sight. ‘Are we any nearer to ending the troubles?’ she inquired, taking Sneet’s hand.
‘It seems, a small group of religious fanatics are none too pleased with how your subjects choose to spend their social time,’ he claimed. ‘Moreover, a dark force opposes them ... I am uncertain of what it is and why it is here, and without the two missing heads taken from the bodies found at the theatre we cannot even begin to guess to whom this force favours.’ The Queen retracted her hand as her face filled with grief. A single tear emerged. ‘What is it?’ asked Sneet. ‘You seem disturbed by what I have told you.’
‘It is nothing,’ she sighed, wiping her eyes. ‘Let us drink!’
‘Good idea,’ replied Sneet with a kiss to her effeminate neck.
Hours passed, in deep conversation and shared laughter. The disguised Queen sat pensive as Sneet retired to the Gentlemen’s Room.
‘Hello, darlin.’ The fat man approached with a face full of food. ‘How much for the night?’ He dribbled as his greasy hands groped her firm thigh. Bewitched, she dug into his eyes with a penetrating stare. He clenched his chest in agony as an inner-grasp squeezed away at his fat-ridden heart.
‘SYREENA!’ hollered Sneet. The tavern fell silent under a group of men who whispered wildly. Sneet rushed over to her. ‘Are you all right? What did he do to you?’
‘We must leave, Oro,’ she advised – seemingly more worried by the group of bickering whisperers than the dying slob slumped at her feet.
‘Do you know these people?’ asked Sneet escorting her safely from the premises. She shook her head but clearly had something on her mind.
Once outside, Sneet pulled her into a darkened alley.
‘Oro? You’re hurting my arm.’
‘What has happened?’ he persisted. ‘And why did that group of men sound so surprised when I called your name?’ Tears streamed from her face. He took her in his arms, deciding not to pursue the matter any further, for the moment. ‘Come on,’ he calmed. ‘Let’s return to the palace.’
On their arrival, the gate-guards muttered and joked. To them, the Queen was still in residence, so Sneet, returning with a blonde goddess, made for a mind-fill of pornographic fantasy.
‘A threesome, eh?’ whispered one, clearly overheard by the couple.
‘Ignore them,’ said Sneet, walking her to the front door.
‘Any chance of a foursome, Mr Sneet?’ giggled another. Sneet made a lewd gesture before closing the door behind him.
The jeering guards soon fell silent as the sky filled with a deafening hum. Suddenly, tiny winged-serpents stooped at their cowering bodies as two dark priests marched towards them. Mortified with horror the guards fled from the palace leaving the gates wide-open.
‘Have you ever loved someone you couldn’t have?’ asked the Queen, reclaiming her natural look.
‘Excluding you, Ma’am?’
‘My dearest Oro,’ she smiled. ‘How can you be in love with me? You have only known me for a few days … I’m flattered but I’m what common people call a bitch.’
‘You? No.’
‘Don’t fall for me? I mean, fall in love with me.’
‘That is easy for you to say.’
‘It would be, if I could say it properly.’ She smiled. ‘Apart from me, then: Have you ever loved someone you couldn’t have?’
‘There was someone,’ he said.
‘Oh, tell me about her, Oro? What was she like?’
‘Much like you really ... not to look at … but strangely, you have some of her ways.’
‘In what way?’
‘Sense of humour. I love a woman who laughs at my jokes … The ability to hold a conversation. Your yearning eyes …’
‘Where did you meet her?’
Sneet sighed in a way that he did not know where to start explaining. It was clearly a subject he found difficult to talk about. He knocked back a goblet of wine, refilled it, and polished-off another. ‘I stumbled on a case where a housemaid – supposedly possessed by the devil – had been accused of murdering her employee – a very wealthy man. The authorities – the Church – sentenced her to life in the dungeons of darkness – four days north of Ingidor.’ Sneet filled another goblet; handed it to the Queen and plied another on himself. ‘My evidence, however, proved that her actions were purely in self-defence. The man was a woman beater … a yellow bellied coward. It was no use though. They were not going to listen ... The victim had promised to leave his entire estate to the Church. They loved him, no less.
I had reached a dead-end. There was no hope for her but I carried-on making regular visits. She captivated me ... like you do. It was to be the turning point of my faith in him.’
‘Him?’
‘God... He had lost my vote of confidence. Mind you, it was already touch-and-go.’
‘Did you love her?’
‘At the time, I would say I had strong emotions for her … yes ... it was not until she had gone that I realised that I loved her.’
‘You did?’
‘Oh yes ... I ...’
‘You truly loved her?’
Sneet nodded his head. ‘They say she escaped,’ he smiled. ‘I hope she is happy wherever she is.’
‘I’m sure she is,’ reassured the Queen, taking his hand and placing it to her breast. ‘I’m sure she is.’
‘I would give anything to see her again.’ Sneet gazed into the distance. ‘Oh yes, and I loved my ex-wife as well.’
‘Quiet,’ calmed the Queen, anxiously waiting to pounce. ‘The poor, imprisoned woman has probably changed since you knew her.’ It was a strange thing to say but Sneet’s mind was far too over-taxed and wine-ridden to read into it. ‘I need you inside me,’ she begged as the fire mystically awoke.
‘My endeavour has no mercy upon your personage,’ he warned, pouncing on her ravenous lips – their bodies entombed in a solitude of carnal want.
As the midnight hour approached, Sneet awoke to the comforting sight of his sleeping Queen. The exhausted fire shed soft silhouettes of her curvaceous slender body upon the dimly lit walls.
Bang! A shot rang out. A pool of lanterns entered the room. The men from the tavern had joined forces with the gang from the field of wheat.
‘There she is!’ yelled one. ‘It is she! Syreena, the devil-bitch!’
‘Get back!’ warned Sneet. ‘I will protect her with my life!’ The Queen awoke. Sneet grabbed a sheet. ‘Cover yourself, Your Majesty.’ Her body tightened and quivered as smoke poured from the men’s bodies as her penetrating glare burnt deep into their souls.
‘Stop her, Sneet!’ cried one of the ringleaders. ‘Can’t you see, man? The woman is a ...’ He fell to his knees. ‘Is a ...’
‘Take them!’ It was Kale. His guards opened fire. The gangs dropped like flies in a cloud of gunfire and smouldering flesh. The Queen turned her back on the litter of dead.
Through the settling smoke, Kale slowly walked towards them. ‘I have longed for this moment, Sneet,’ he hissed. ‘Lock him up!’
‘No!’ cried the Queen.
Kale looked her up-and-down in disgust as she held a single sheet to her love-bitten body. ‘I am in my rights to overrule you on this one,’ he voiced. ‘May the laws of Bakiste prevail,’ he uttered.
The prison oozed with uncaring rot as Sneet sat in a grime of despair.
‘Why are you here?’ came a woman’s voice, behind the wall of the neighbouring cell.
‘I fell in love with the Queen.’
‘The Queen?’ she harked. ‘I am the Queen! She is a fake!’
‘Fake?’ Sneet stood with his ear to the wall.
‘Yes. She infiltrated the palace security and came to my room! Kale, the fool, couldn’t understand a thing and arrested me!’
‘But the portraits in the palace clearly show that she is the Queen?’ upheld Sneet.
‘She stole my body! … God, I have served this land and I served it well ... until I awoke to a woman who sucked me in and spat me out ... She cast me into hers!’
‘She speaks the truth!’ It was the Queen – or so it seemed. ‘I took her body and claimed the crown, but not for that reason.’ Her expression begged forgiveness.
‘Then why?’ asked Sneet.
‘The housemaid you told me of last night?’ The one you loved so dearly? His face dropped. ‘Yes, Oro … That was I,’ she claimed. ‘I made a deal with two dark priests in return for my freedom.’
‘A deal?’ harked Sneet. ‘What deal?’
‘I gave them my word that I would bear them a child to sacrifice upon their altar ... They would drink its blood to lengthen their stay in this world.’
‘What!’ exclaimed Sneet. ‘You expected me to give you a child that would be sacrificed the moment it was born? You are sick! Why me?’
‘You are an Atheist… the father had to be an atheist ... You were chosen.’
‘Oh, I am deeply indebted to you!’
‘Please, Oro,’ she cried, collapsing on her knees. Her glossy mane curtained her face over a pool of tears.
‘Oh, please!’ stormed Sneet. ‘You have taken my life … tears mean nothing! I will be executed for sure.’ He felt totally empty.
‘Not if I return the Queen’s body. You had sex with me not her.’
‘What!’ cried the imprisoned woman.
‘I am so sorry, Ma’am,’ replied Sneet.
‘It was my parents who were decapitated at the theatre,’ uttered the woman on her knees before him. ‘A warning from the two priests that if I was not pregnant upon their next visit, my sister would be next ... She is all I have left ... although I haven’t seen her since we were five … I was blackmailed.’
‘And what of the gangs that attacked us at the palace?’ he questioned.
‘Those god-loving animals have hunted me down since the day the priests set me free ... Syreena was the first of many I possessed ... and she got pregnant!’ She wept. ‘But as my luck would have it, the wimpy bastard who did the deed turned out to be a closet God lover! The priests were furious, but I somehow managed to worm my way out of it. How foolish I was to have used Syreena’s name! If I had gone by another, none of this would have happened.’ She rose to her feet and stroked the bars like an insane Being.
‘Any child of mine would not have been harmed by anyone,’ informed Sneet. ‘You used me ... Not only am I to be executed but I also go to the grave as a man cheated!’
‘It was not supposed to be this way, Oro. I had to escape! The guards continually raped me just as my wealthy employer did.’ Sneet grabbed her by the waist and pulled her towards him.
‘I could have helped you if I had known? Why didn’t you tell me?’
‘Why would they listen to you? They hated you … for your lack of belief … After every one of your visits they made me pay for it.’
‘But … you should have told me?’
‘Come on, Oro … I was sentenced to life! I wasn’t going anywhere? I couldn’t put you through a lifetime of abuse as well as me?’ She turned her head towards the neighbouring cell. ‘Goodbye, Oro’ she uttered. He weakened his hold and let her slip away ...
In the adjoining cell came a shriek of pain followed by scurrying footsteps departing. Sneet’s door slowly opened. The fugitive had returned the body to the rightful Queen.
‘Are you all right, Your Majesty?’
‘Yes, I think so ... at least I have my body back.’ She prodded her limbs and felt her body – checking to see if all was intact. ‘Go on. Go after her.’ Sneet headed for the exit.
Across the way, a coachman ranted-and-raved as a crowd gathered around his toppled coach. ‘She came from nowhere!’ he cried. Sneet crossed the road: The battered body of “Syreena’s” last hold lay lifeless at the coachman’s feet. ‘She came out of nowhere.’
Sneet gazed along the busy street. “Did she possess another in her final moment?” he wondered. “If she had, then who was she now? Was she the old woman who stood outside the coffee shop selling bottles of nipple growth potion? On the other hand, was she the woman inside the coffee shop who had just purchased a bottle, and out of curiosity, applied it to her tongue so later that day she could, hopefully, lick herself out? … Maybe Syreena was now possessing the body of the mother with two children who picked their noses and exchanged bogies as she ogled at the spectacle?”
Lady Filair’s carriage pulled away, ready to begin her journey back to her and Sneet’s homeland of Ingidor. A large, powerful dog raged behind it, snarling and foaming at the mouth, then gave up the chase as the carriage disappeared into the avenue of Twisted Willow.
Captured by the tragic scene, the audience gasped in surprise as their Queen stepped from the prison. Sneet walked towards her through a watchful silence as cold as the grave. His mind fought corners to accept that the woman before him was not the love he had lost.
‘Your Majesty,’ he bowed.
‘What is your name?’ Thankfully, her refined vocal had remained.
‘Oro—’
‘SNEET!’ Kale had arrived with his guards. ‘I am arresting you on suspicion of witchery; breaking out of prison, and having unlawful sex with the—’
‘Enough!’ The Queen held up her hand. ‘One must have the authority to carry-out such orders, Mr Kale. For now, and until Mr Sneet reaches his home safely, you are suspended from duty.’ The guards withdrew as Kale submitted to the Queen’s tactical move.
‘Go about your business!’ cried the second in charge. The crowd moaned but hesitantly dispersed.
‘I will forward my findings on my return, Ma’am.’
‘Oh? You leave today? We must meet again, Mr Sneet.’
‘It would be an honour, Ma’am,’ he bowed. ‘May your shadow never grow less, and may I again, offer my deepest apology for …’
‘Guards,’ she cried, not breaking eye contact with the likewise Sneet. ‘Have my carriage prepared for Mr Sneet’s return.’ Kale boiled with sworn revenge.
CHAPTER THREE
A Splatter of Heart
Ingidor’s unhurried lifestyle paired wonderfully with its leafy setting: There were no crowded taverns, gambling houses or whores. Life was simple, slow – but real.
Sneet’s abode – a small wing of a converted Manor – lay in the heart of Ingidor’s only residential area. Here, he would collect his thoughts and extract the cream from his knowledgeable churn.
“It’s good to be back home,” he sighed. The curtains twitched as inquisitive neighbours watched the royal coach depart, and as it did, a horse approached under the helm of a woman in her late teens. Her unkempt appearance cast doubt upon her means to enjoy the luxury of a horse.
‘Mr Sneet?’ she asked, anxiously. ‘I have been awaiting your return for days. Where have you been?’
‘What have I done now?’ he replied. ‘It’s been a long time since my days of returning home to a woman asking where I’ve been.’ She smiled but it was soon lost. ‘You are gone from home?’ he inquired.
She dismounted. ‘I am.’
‘My dear,’ he calmed, taken by her troubled look. ‘Is it a matter of heart?’
‘Your words could not be further from the truth,’ she replied.
‘Then come,’ invited Sneet. ‘I have a bottle of wine that more than fulfils its vintage.’ She followed him inside.
‘Please, take a seat, Miss…?’
‘Palore. Halen Palore. Thank you, but I will stand.’
‘Palore, Palore,’ mumbled Sneet. ‘The name is familiar.’
‘Yes ... I am the niece of Count Owlner Palore. Have you heard of Palore Shipping Company?’
‘Ah, yes,’ he nodded. ‘Who hasn’t? A story of rags-to-riches, no less … and richly deserved, I must say—’
‘No!’ protested the woman. ‘He is a cold, shallow, shameless killer! Rotten to the core!’
‘This is news to me, Miss Palore. Your uncle’s attributes do not read well … but a killer?’
‘He is.’
‘But this sounds like a matter for the law? I only deal with supernatural cases. You know … Things that go bump in the night.’
‘Things went bump in his castle, alright.’
‘Castle?’ Sneet loved castles.
‘You must help us, Mr Sneet,’ she begged, ‘for I know of none to whom I can trust?’ The troubled woman stood at the window, gazing into the garden.
‘Us?’ asked Sneet. ‘You said, help us?’
‘Yes. The greasy bastard has killed many … Excuse my language.’
‘That’s okay … Carry on.’
‘He has been infected by…’ She paused, unable to find the right words.
‘By what?’
‘I don’t know what … Just that he’s a ruthless murderer!’ She stomped her feet. ‘Need I say any more?’
Sneet paced the room. ‘If your claim is correct –’ She huffed loudly. ‘And I’m not saying that it isn’t ... then, why didn’t you inform the relevant authorities?’
‘You jest!’ she cried. ‘Them? Believe my far-fetched story over the word of a very powerful and highly respected pillar of their society? He is their leader. A law unto himself!’
Sneet sighed. ‘What is it with these Lords, Counts and Barons?’ She agreed with a slow nod of the head. ‘Priests, Presidents and Ministers: All men, you will notice,’ he tactfully added.
“What?” thought the woman. “I am in the presence of a male who isn’t chauvinistic?”
‘Although … there is a woman.’ He referred to Syreena – AKA Filair – with certain uncertainty. ‘Sorry, Miss Palore … Carry on.’
‘Two years ago – 1788,’ she began as Sneet uncorked the wine, ‘my parents died of natural causes.’
‘In the same year?’
‘On the same day,’ she painfully recalled.
‘On the same day?’
‘And the same morning.’
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