Unleashed Fury (BloodRunes: Book 1) Page 4

  By the time Jezebel emerged, the tart had cooled and Layna shivered uncontrollably while hopping back and forth on her feet to keep them from turning numb. Jezebel snatched the tart and took a bite. Then, wrinkling her nose in disgust, she threw it over her shoulder into the gutter.

  “I never eat these,” she declared as she opened the door to the carriage and swept inside. Layna sighed, sadly gazing at the tart as it was ruined by the mud of the street, and hauled herself into the carriage after her mistress.

  *

  Jezebel laughed giddily to herself, ignoring the confused look the girl gave her. Joining the Order had been ridiculously easy for all their talk of great pains to protect their anonymity. A silly little hand signal and an oath of secrecy, and she was in. Devon had not been able to gather much more detail from the man they had spoken with the other night - apparently he had not been a very important figure within the society - but the name and signal were all she had needed to make contact.

  It was fortunate for her that the name she had been given was that of Francis, with whom she already did business. It had been easy to contrive a reason to go see him, and she'd end up with a newly decorated room too. He had refused to give her any other information except a time and place for a ceremony she was to attend, and this irritated her, but she shrugged it off. She could find out the rest as she went.

  The carriage jerked roughly into motion, but Jezebel hardly noticed she was so lost in her thoughts. There must be a lot of different levels of the Order, which I suppose is how they think they keep their secrets. You can hardly tell what you don't know. That would explain the lack of knowledge gleaned from last night's entertainment. So really, all I have to do is work myself up in rank and I'll be able to tell the lesser ones what to do. And if I tell them to do something for me rather than the Order, who would be the wiser? Such a convenient little arrangement. I will be powerful behind the scenes as well as in the open – no doubt I can manipulate their plans to include my rise in power. That, combined with the support they will have to give me as my brothers and sisters, will guarantee me a Council seat and perhaps even more.

  She paused a moment in reflection. This was a project on a much greater scale than she had ever attempted before. She would have to make sure that she kept track of it all. There certainly are circles within circles of information layered throughout its intrigues, but I'm sure I can unravel its mysteries and use them to my advantage.

  Already hundreds of possibilities were popping into her head at a rate she found difficult to keep up with. She poked her head out the carriage window to urge the driver faster so she could mull over the ideas at leisure in the comfort of her own home. Or perhaps she’d have a guest; she felt like a little gossip after all the excitement. It could be her first test for herself, keeping the secret of her newfound “friends” while entertaining herself by giving the person just enough information to entice them with curiosity while never actually telling them anything. As she settled back against the cushioned seat once more she let her mind wander, a smile permanently affixed to her face and completely oblivious to the rest of the world.

  *

  Two cloaked figures stood in the shadows, watching the carriage pull away. “Would you like me to have her disposed of, Master?” asked the smaller of the two.

  “No,” answered the other, with an other-worldly quality to his voice. “She is under the false impression that she will be invisible within our ranks. I will find it interesting to see what she will do under that belief.” The speaker watched the carriage for a moment more and then a hand snaked out from within the folds of fabric, extending a parchment towards the other. “Here, take this. You know where. I want you to keep an eye on this one. She's dangerous, but she may still be useful.”

  “Yes, Master,” the small one answered, taking the paper and hurrying off into the shadows. The lone figure watched for a moment longer before he murmured something to himself and he disappeared.

  Jonathan held tightly to the paper that he had been given and carefully side-stepped a group of people huddled around a small fire in a barrel in the alley. He was nervously glancing about, making sure that no one had witnessed the exchange or was following him, when he ran headlong into someone.

  “Oof,” said a deep voice and Jonathan scrambled to retrieve his precious parchment. The man he had run into bent down and picked it out of a puddle, shaking it dry before handing it back to him.

  He grabbed for it, briskly thanking the man as he tucked it safely away in the folds of his cloak and continued down the street. Jonathan was pleased that his work had been appreciated by his master, and already he was being given more information and responsibility. He wanted to make sure that he continued to impress Master as he had a request for the man. A request that he didn’t seem to be able to get off his mind.

  It wasn't far to the drop-off and Jonathan breathed a sigh of relief at having rid himself of his burden. That task completed, he made his way back home to carry out his newfound responsibilities.

  *

  Layna watched Jezebel as the woman yelled for the driver to hurry. As if he could move any faster on these crowded streets, Layna thought disgustedly. She resisted the urge to shake her head at the woman before spending the next few minutes imagining what the tart would have tasted like since Jezebel seemed content to ignore her.

  Unexpectedly, Jezebel giggled to herself. This time, Layna couldn't help but look at her strangely. Getting new furniture can't be that exciting. She just replaced the whole library last year. Layna added sarcastically to herself, Charged to her father's account, of course. Despite the look, the woman was still paying no attention to her whatsoever and that was fine with Layna. Hopefully, when they arrived back at the manor she would be able to catch up on the chores she'd missed during this little shopping trip.

  Neither of the women said a word for the remainder of the ride home, but Jezebel never lost her smile. As they pulled into the driveway, she turned to Layna and commanded, “Prepare the library for entertaining. I think tea and some light fare will do. The cook should be able to whip something right up. You come along too; I want you there in case my guest needs anything.”

  Inwardly Layna winced. It seemed that her chores would continue to pile up, but outwardly she simply nodded. It would be taken care of, somehow. As soon as the carriage came to a halt, Jezebel practically leaped out in her mysteriously excited state, and Layna followed suit, making a beeline for the kitchen. The cook would rant at her about the short notice, but Layna wouldn't have time to listen. There were chairs to move around, tea to heat, and a number of other preparations to be made. Jezebel was very particular about the arrangements when she had guests over: One single flower in a vase on the table, her nonfunctional – but prize winning! – sheepdog, long past its prime, must be lying like a statue by the foot of her chair – a feat which oftentimes took several tries to coax him there until Layna finally had to resort to dragging his limp form to the correct place – and wine must always be available, no matter the time of day.

  Sweat threatened to start dripping down her face by the time that she had everything ready, and it was barely in time. Just as she was taking her place next to the tea service tray, a knock sounded at the door and voices echoed through the hallway.

  “Jezebel, how are you?” asked a high pitched voice, and Layna wrinkled her nose as she recognized it as belonging to Renee. Renee was one of Jezebel's typical friends, with absolutely no backbone and no other friends. The perfect person for Jezebel to prey upon. Renee's favorite pastime was parroting Jezebel's words to anyone who would listen, even those people who had already heard it from Jezebel herself.

  The two of them swept into the room, their billowy dresses flowing around them as they seated themselves, pointedly ignoring Layna. She busied herself pouring them tea and adding the exact number of sugar cubes and milk that each liked. Jezebel didn't like to have her conversation interrupted by questions from the help. It was better that Layn
a memorized the preferences. Each took their teacup without even a look in her direction. Layna listened absently to their chatter, watching carefully for motions that might indicate that they wanted their tea refilled or to be brought a cake that the cook had miraculously baked in time.

  “I couldn't quite believe,” Jezebel was saying, “that he had the nerve to call me Jezebel, as if we were friends or even close to the same status.”

  Both women laughed, and Layna found it difficult not to laugh incredulously at the two of them. After initially ignoring her, Layna noticed that Renee kept glancing over at her, and she glued her eyes to the wall to make sure she never made eye contact. She could feel the woman's eyes scrutinizing every inch of her, and Layna wondered what she was thinking. She didn't have to wonder long.

  The next words out of the woman's mouth were, “What are you doing with this strumpet in your household? No offense to you, Jezebel, but really she looks like she could be one of the ladies down at the Golden Girls.”

  Jezebel took a sip of tea before answering, and when she did her voice was cold. “No, my dear Renee, she's not nearly pretty enough to be one of those girls. Are you, my dear? Nor do you have enough class.”

  She directed the last to Layna who brought her eyes to their conversation for just a moment, meeting the black beady eyes of Renee and then the deep brown of Jezebel, which laughed at her from beneath their depths, before she answered, “Of course not, ma’am. A simple peasant like me could never dream of the beauty that you ladies achieve, nor even come as close as the Golden Girls.”

  Gryffon was passing the room just then and stopped in to grab a cake. Taking a bite, he closed his eyes in mock ecstasy, and he shook the cake in Layna's direction. “You really will have to tell the cook how wonderful these are, simply delicious.”

  “Well hello, Gryffon. You know Renee, of course,” Jezebel greeted him, paying no heed to his comment.

  Renee stood and extended her hand to him. He took it gallantly. “Of course, how are you, Renee?” he asked politely.

  She giggled as he quickly passed his lips over her plump hand, bringing a flush to her cheeks.

  He humored her with a quick smile and asked, “And what's the gossip about today?”

  Renee opened her mouth to reply, but Jezebel cut her off, saying, “We were just discussing whether or not we think Devon took a trip down to the Golden Girls brothel to pick up this maid.” She gestured to Layna, narrowing her eyes, and asked, “What do you think?”

  Gryffon looked over at Layna and raised an eyebrow, “Well, if she was at the Golden Girls, I could hardly blame Devon for it. If she was there, that's where I'd be too.”

  Layna couldn't control the quirk of her lips into the tiniest of smiles as Gryffon winked at her, though she was incredulous that he would make such a comment. Luckily, he blocked her view of Jezebel and by the time he moved she had regained her solemn look of indifference.

  “Well, ta ta ladies, I'm off for the hunt. It's prime time for those big bucks to be out and I mean to bag myself a big rack,” he gave Renee a stiff bow and nodded to Jezebel.

  Layna fought hard to control the laughter that threatened to emerge. He turned his twinkling eyes towards her and winked again before whisking himself out of the room. Layna stole a glance at Jezebel, and could tell that the woman was raging underneath her cool exterior.

  A chill ran down Layna's spine, all thoughts of laughter disappearing.

  “That man is unruly; I really don't know why I keep him around,” Jezebel said icily into the silence that followed Gryffon's exit.

  Renee was still watching the door that Gryffon had left through. “He's quite a good looking man though, Jezebel, just that factor alone is pretty compelling.”

  Jezebel relaxed somewhat and laughed, but Layna could almost see the storm still roiling beneath her carefully controlled expression. “There is that,” she conceded. “There is that.”

  The rest of the visit went somewhat normally, with idle chit-chat and only a few nasty comments directed at Layna for her inability to read their minds when they wanted more of something. Much of their complaints consisted of how Gryffon wasn't doing enough of what Jezebel wanted him to or not fast enough. How life in general simply wasn't fair. She complained to Renee that even though she was the most undeserving of bad things and always trying to help other people, things just kept popping up at her.

  Like this woman Jezebel had come to the house a few times. Jezebel had lent her money to pay for one of her sons to have his talent trained – wasn’t that so very nice of me, Renee? - and then she’d had the audacity to get sick and die on her before Jezebel was repaid. What she conveniently forgot to mention was that it was Jezebel's father who had actually lent the money, and he had only done it because he thought that the woman's family would feel obligated to back him in a coming vote in the merchant guildhall. Not to mention she’s mad at her for dying…

  Jezebel also kept hinting – not so subtly, though Renee did not seem to be picking up on it – that she had something exciting in the works. Something that she wasn’t about to tell Renee about but obviously wanted her to know she wasn’t being told. Unfortunately for Jezebel, Renee was apparently too dull to pick up on it, and Layna could tell that Jezebel’s patience for her was waning as her more and more obvious comments continued to go unnoticed.

  Finally, after what seemed like hours of listening to Jezebel complain about her life to an eager-to-please Renee, Jezebel announced that she was tired and needed to get some rest before dinner. Renee almost immediately sprang out of her chair to comply with Jezebel's request and quickly showed herself out. When Renee had gone, Jezebel turned to Layna. “I'm going out for a while. When I come back, I expect that all your normal chores will be done. You've done quite enough idling about for one day.”

  Layna felt another chill at the look Jezebel gave her and she curtsied deeply, holding the position until Jezebel had stalked off. Fear crept into her and she wondered if perhaps Gryffon had done her an injustice by his comment. She could hear Jezebel screaming for Devon down the hallway, and by the sounds of it she was already working herself into a frenzy over his delay in answering.

  CHAPTER 4

  “Devon!” Jezebel growled at the man as he hurried up to her from outside. “I have been calling you for the longest time.”

  Devon bowed deeply. “My apologies, my lady, but I come from the temple and hope that some good news might brighten your demeanor?”

  Jezebel wasn't in the mood to be told she was in a bad one, but the prospect of news and what it most likely was concerning was tantalizing. She ushered him back inside the library.

  The little strumpet girl was clearing away the last of the remains from Renee's visit. Jezebel glared at her until she gathered up the last of the dishes and closed the door behind her. She waited until the footsteps faded before turning to Devon. “Well? What is it?”

  “After our little chat the other night with the brother, I took it upon myself to find out what these officiators of the event might be expecting of you at this ceremony you've been invited to.”

  Jezebel sat forward in her chair excitedly. “And?”

  “And, I can tell you that you'll be told about the society that you are joining, how it is designed to benefit the greater good of mankind and can help each of its individual members in exchange for complete secrecy and obedience.”

  Jezebel waved a hand impatiently, “Yes, yes, yes. I know all that, but what am I supposed to do?”

  Devon nodded his head once and grinned, sharing her excitement. “They'll read you the list of rules which you will swear an oath to uphold. My source was sketchy as to the details, but mainly they revolve around keeping it secret and carrying out orders that you'll be given. All you'll have to do is swear to it.”

  “As long as they don't mind me adding my own twist to their orders,” Jezebel sneered.

  Devon hesitated, and Jezebel thought she saw a flicker of concern flash across his features. “
I have no doubt that you can handle yourself, my lady,” he said carefully, “but do remember that these are not scheming merchants that we are dealing with. These people are dangerous.”

  Jezebel felt a stab of annoyance, but suppressed it. “Of course I will. Now, what else did you learn?”

  Devon was silent for another second. Jezebel was about ready to snap at him that she could take care of herself when he continued. “Next, you'll be asked to share your deepest secret in front of their witnesses. The purpose for this seems to be so that they gain a certain level of control over you by playing on your guilt.”

  “As if anything I might tell them would seriously give them the upper hand,” Jezebel scoffed. Devon had that look again so she sighed and made another impatient motion for him to go on.

  “Finally, they will ask you a question, and this is the most important step.” Jezebel drew her eyebrows together, waiting for him to elaborate. “Now the correct answer to this question was tricky to find out. They'll ask you if you will denounce the rule of the King to show your obedience to them. My source indicated that if you refuse to do so, they commend you for your loyalty. Interestingly though, these candidates are still accepted but they never rise any higher in the ranks of the Order. If, however, you denounce the King, they believe that it shows that you will be loyal to them above all else. They see this response as a sign of intelligence, that you possess enough knowledge to understand that the greater good of humanity doesn't always correspond with the whims of the King. The people who give this response often find themselves with invitations to additional ceremonies and consequently move to higher levels within the Order.”