Читать книгу Den of Smoke: Absolutely gripping fantasy page turner filled with magic and betrayal - Christopher Byford - Страница 9

Returning to Esquelle with additional woes, Jackdaw hungered to blow off steam. Dusk-soaked tawny streets seemed maze-like to the visitor but Jack’s feet knew full well where they travelled. He crossed the district, weaving past warehouses and small factories before emerging out on the cusp of the tailors’ square. A water fountain, once built by the founders as a symbol of self-congratulation, was being slowly eroded by both time and the elements. Its depiction of the Holy Sorceress, gown in frozen motion and sword raised high, was tarnished with gentle pitting.

He wandered over and cupped the tepid water in his hands, freshening his face and wrangling his beard back into design. When content at the reflection staring back, Jack paced between buildings until the space extended out into a loading yard.

Except it was anything but.

The yard was free of crates, free from anything of substance apart from the fire escape that spidered up the red-brick building side. Women hung over the railings, beautiful women in fact, wrapped up in fashions both bright and fair. Those who lived at the Ten of Hearts were sirens to the dockhands who passed, working girls but selective ones, for their tastes were far too exotic for just anyone to accommodate.

As Jackdaw strolled into the yard, the figures clad in satin and silk eased their conversations. The ones entangled with men broke from their embraces, looking down the line to one of their own in particular.

She draped herself over the fire escape, letting her cyan satin hang quite elegantly. Raised to her cherry red lips, pinched between fingers, was a cigarette, the smoke initially restrained and then eased away gently. Her voice was rich and sweet, confectionery for any red-blooded man.

‘Well looky here. Howdy, trouble. Are you causing mischief again?’

‘Perish the thought, Bounty,’ Jack answered.

Already he had begun to ascend the green fire escape that clenched onto the red-brick premises like a hungry lover. Each woman he passed received a nod of respect. As he moved past silk and skin and satin the women batted hypnotizing eyes and pursed inviting lips. They each cooed and offered saccharine smiles. They knew Jack by reputation, though only the good parts and even most of them were embellished.

‘And I suppose you’re just sniffing around this here premises on the way to church, right?’ Bounty called, dangling her hair over the railing as he approached. He paid the same courtesy as they came toe to toe. Hazel-brown eyes flicked to Jack, who met them with his own blues.

‘I prefer to talk to those who are willing to answer me,’ he quipped, ‘but between the pair of us, and correct this if it’s a falsehood of mine, I believe you’re the one who prays on her knees now.’

Bounty curled her mouth, teething the cigarette. The gaggle of accompanying women chuckled at the banter. It was a show they had witnessed many times previously, though it never got old.

‘Ever the clever bastard. I’ve not seen you around for some time, Jacky boy. I was afraid you was getting bored of me.’

‘I’ve been busy.’

‘Too much or too little trouble?’

A smirk erupted. ‘That’d be telling. Ruins the surprise of finding out somewhat, don’t it?’

* * *

Bounty paused, finding delight in this little run-around between them. Times had been boring and in truth she missed his company more than his patronage.

‘So what brings you around talking to us working girls?’

‘Is it a crime talking to a working girl?’

‘Crime? No. Suspicious? Most certainly. It’ll make folks think that you want something.’

Jack withheld his tongue this time, baiting her to encourage the conversation. Lazily she gestured in a circle to the space around him. ‘I remember when you used to bring me flowers.’

‘It wouldn’t be a treat if I brought them every time now, would it?’

‘No entourage in tow this time?’

‘I told them to take the long way home. It was with the best of intentions considering we have some mighty catching up to do.’

Bounty tapped the ash from her cigarette with a charmed grin, letting him wait for her attention. And wait he did.

‘That we do,’ she finally agreed.

Bounty was known, in the common tongue, as a Rose, reflecting her profession. Now this would be easy to mistake as a glamorous venture, but the truth of the matter was that she was no different from any other whore who made their trade in the various cathouses and brothels across the Sand Sea. What made a woman who had adopted the Rose namesake unique was that she was able to choose her clientele. As such, a Rose, and those who surrounded her, didn’t have to deal with violent, uncouth brutes who sought a five-minute rough and tumble.

Bounty Rose had regulars, a rather short list of wealthy, though respectable folks that she entertained at this establishment. Each Rose would rent a room for a week at a time, though it was here, at the Ten of Hearts, where Bounty preferred to stay. She was unlike some of the more nomadic girls, who found excitement moving from place to place. Bounty preferred routine and regularity and, as such, Room 13 was practically her home. For the time being at least.

Room 13 was adorned with hanging red silks, vases of fresh flowers and gifts from many satisfied suitors. Bounty was used to luxuries, many and unique; though favoured the unexpected more than anything else. It’s for this reason that she had a certain affection for Jackdaw. Whilst her regular clientele were a mix of officials and well-off folk, Jackdaw provided a roguish distraction. A danger.

And nothing fluttered the senses quite like danger.

* * *

Bounty lay drawing her fingers over Jackdaw’s head. Their post-coitus routine normally wound up with one being attentive to the other. Wisps of smoke haunted the ceiling from the cigarette stuck to his bottom lip.

‘You’re not relaxed in the slightest are you?’

Jack nodded slowly.

‘You always were a tough one to keep settled, I’ll tell you that.’ She sighed. ‘A restless sleeper is a sign of a restless mind.’

He puffed smoke between them, declining to confirm or deny this accusation.

‘So what is it? Woman troubles?’

‘Nah. I don’t have any of them. Haven’t had them in a long time. Wouldn’t be here if I did, right?’

‘Scoundrel.’ Bounty plucked the cigarette from his lips and took her turn, painting the paper with her lipstick.

He wheezed a dishevelled reply. ‘Ain’t that the truth.’

‘So it’s over business?’

‘Somewhat. We’ve got a new recruit now by the name of Cole.’

‘And how is he turning out?’

‘The kid’s interesting. Knowledgeable, very smart like. Comes from money. Worked for a mining company from what he says, if he’s speaking true.’ Jack knew that Cole’s potential would be revealed with time yet felt the pangs of impatience. ‘Following orders like he’s supposed to. Hasn’t swung at me yet so that’s a plus. Figure it’s early days to assume anything else. To say any more would be a folly. A boredom too.’

‘Quite.’

‘I’m just protecting your interests. I wouldn’t want my favourite girl to mistake me for a bore.’

‘Perish the thought. When are you going to do good on your word and take me away from all this?’ She slipped the cigarette back between Jackdaw’s teeth. ‘You used to woo me with tales of grand scores and a never-ending horizon to race to. Never a Bluecoat could catch me, you’d boast. You would make a decent woman out of me, you promised. Fancy that. Me. Decent.’

Bounty’s voice trailed off in thought, dwelling on such a thing. It would have been indulged in further if he didn’t playfully strike her backside. Claiming a thin red robe that clung to her sweat-covered skin, she sat at her dresser, watching the man observe her in a hilariously opulent mirror. She took a hairbrush from within reach and began to ease her hair back into some sort of presentable shape.

‘The minute I have an equally decent amount to my name, good lady. I need to keep you in the lifestyle that you’re accustomed to. Fine foods, hot water, satin sheets, soft beds. Those things don’t come cheap. Money woes seem to be arising of late. Not my choice, mind.’

‘I am an expense to maintain for sure,’ she purred, brushing her hair that shimmered in the lamp’s luminescence. ‘Wouldn’t you agree I was worth it?’

‘Not a doubt in my being.’