“He was circling around, trying to get in front of the bastard.” Dunkeld jerked his head towards the next alley. “Onward?”
Max took a deep breath and forced his legs to move. It shouldn’t be this hard to run down an aging man. But fear had the uncanny ability to make people stronger. Men could run faster and jump higher in moments of great distress. And being chased down by five angry men would distress anyone.
They converged as one. It would have been beautiful, if it hadn’t been so deadly. Like a pack of wolves running down their prey. Their man darted down the wrong back alley, one without an exit, and Max and his four friends met at the alley’s entrance. They watched as their target jumped at the far wall, his hands stretching for the top edge, but never able to grasp it.
Summerset, Montague, and Rothchild dismounted and tied their horses’ ribbons together. Grimly, Max strode towards the panicked man, his friends flanking him.
The man jumped again, his fingers scrambling for purchase on the rough-hewn wood. When he slid to the ground, he left finger trails of blood streaking down the wall.
“Give it up.” Max stopped ten feet away from him. “It’s over.”
The man’s shoulders heaved. Slowly, he turned to face them. “What do you want?”
“You know what we want.” Rothchild stepped beside Max. “Zed.”
“You ask the impossible.” The suspect shook his salt-and-pepper head. Pulling a knife from an inside pocket, he pointed the blade at their group. “You will never stop Zed. Zed is eternal.”
Max darted a look at his friends, his stomach growing tense. “Zed is flesh and bone, just like all men.” Stepping closer, he raised his hands, trying to look as unthreatening as possible.
“That’s where you’re wrong.” He brandished the knife, his hand shaking. “Zed is indestructible.”
“Put the weapon down and let’s talk.” Max took another step forward. “The game is over for you, but we can come to some arrangement. We’ll make a deal.”
“A deal! A deal with the devils who dare offend Zed.” An unholy light gleamed in the man’s eyes before his gaze went dreamy. “Zed seeks revenge. And what Zed seeks, Zed finds.”
Max wasn’t sure what the man saw, but he didn’t think it was himself or his friends. A chill whispered down his spine. Something about the man’s behavior struck a chord, reminding Max of something. The scents of sandalwood and saffron …. Hot and humid nights …
“There is no deal for me. I will never betray Zed.” The man pressed his back to the wall.
“He’ll never know.” Max inched even closer. If he leaned forwards, he would just be able to touch the man’s hand. Or impale himself on the knife.
“Zed knows everything. Zed is everything. Betrayal is not an option.”
Max’s heart slowed to a sluggish pace. This man wasn’t just loyal; he was a fanatic, mad in his devotion. He would be a hard man to turn against his master.
But he and his friends could be persuasive. Painfully so, if called upon. Max prayed it wouldn’t come to that. He didn’t think pressing a couple meridian points was going to cut it this time.
“Come now, man.” Montague shifted to Max’s left, creating a semi-circle around their foe. “It’s over. Put down the knife and come quietly.”
The man’s eyes shifted, and a pit opened in Max’s stomach. He tensed his legs. Something was about to happen. He could always see it in their eyes.
“Betrayal isn’t an option.” The man dropped his shoulders, his body relaxing, his face becoming as tranquil as the surface of a pond on a windless day. He looked up at the sky. “But I’m weak. I would break. I can’t let that happen.”
Before Max inhaled his next breath, the man raised his knife and cut a red line across his throat.
The blood was bright, stark against the man’s pale flesh. The thin line grew, bursting wide, large spurts of blood turning his neckcloth red.
“Jesus!” Montague leapt forwards, grabbed him as he staggered. The dying man blinked, opened his mouth and collapsed into the duke’s arms. By the time Montague lowered him to the ground, he was dead.
“What the sweet fucking arse was that?!” Summerset yelled.
Blood streamed from the gaping wound, soaking into the ground and wending in their direction. Summerset jumped back and raked a hand through his hair. “I mean, what the fucking hell?”
Montague pulled out a handkerchief and wiped blood from his hands. “The man was more terrified of Zed than he was of death.”
“I think it’s worse than that.” Max eyed the body that used to house a soul. A man with hopes and dreams and fears and faults. Soon it would be nothing more than rotting flesh. “I don’t think he slit his throat because of fear. I think he did it for love.”
“Love?” Dunkeld shrugged off his coat and covered the man’s upper body. “You think he was a molly?”
