“He is ill at the moment,” he then added quickly. “I’m afraid that’s not possible.”
Zach thought he was lying, and one look at his brothers and he knew they saw it too.
“Will more money help with convincing you?”
The sheriff hesitated, and Gabe pulled out a wad of notes.
“I’ll see if he is well enough.”
“Do not mention our names, if you please, sir,” Gabe said.
The man didn’t say anything, just hurried out the door.
“My guess is that Falcon is paying him in some way,” Forrest said.
“Agreed. And as Falcon is a murderer, he should be chained to a wall with an open sewer running past him but I have a feeling that is not the case,” Gabe said.
“He also should have been hanged or wasted away from disease by now, considering the treatment other murderers have received inside these walls,” Nathan said. “I wonder who has assured that did not happen?”
“And yet we know he is not and is clearly still thriving if he is behind the theft of those papers from Lord Blackhall’s residence,” Forrest said.
“It’s all very smokey,” Zach said.
“Very. Someone is pulling the strings behind the scenes, or Falcon has become a diplomatic bargaining tool,” Gabe said. “I think we need to speak with Geraint again.”
“Agreed,” Zach said as the door opened.
“He will speak to Mr. Zachariel Deville only,” the sheriff said.
“Absolutely not,” Gabe said.
“No,” Nathan and Michael said.
“Do you think he’s asking for me because he knows I’m the youngest and therefore, in his eyes, the weakest?” Zach asked.
“Clearly you mentioned our names,” Gabe growled to the sheriff.
“Ah well, as to that—”
“Let’s go,” Zach said. “He can’t hurt me chained up. And we need to speak with him.”
“I forbid it,” Gabe said.
Zach walked around him and out the door behind the sheriff, closing it behind him.
Pulling out keys, the man opened another door, and they entered. The stench of decay and filthy bodies nearly caused Zach to gag, but he kept moving with a calm expression on his face. The cells were not huge, but many were jammed inside them, and the sounds of distress were everywhere. People humming, others singing, some rambling in madness. Men were chained like animals, eyes wild. Zach kept walking to the next door and left the madness behind.
He walked another hall. This one had more doors with barred windows, but he could not make out as much noise. It was the last the sheriff stopped at. He unlocked it and stepped inside. Zach followed.
Seated in a chair, at a desk, was Falcon. He was writing something and did not immediately turn to face them.
Zach looked at the furnishings in the cell. A bed was covered in a blanket not dissimilar to the one that he slept under, there was also a chamber pot, washing basin, and a rack for clothing. Plenty of books and a glass decanter filled with red liquid completed the picture.
“I can see all the murdering and maiming has caused you to live in hardship,” Zach said in an easy tone. “You have my condolences for living in such squalor when those around you are not, Falcon.”
Zach glanced at the sheriff, who was staring at his toes now.
“How kind of you to come and see me, sir. How are your dear brothers? Below, I believe. To my lasting regret, I never met any of the Devilles while they carried out their duties for Alexius. Very clever of you all to track me down.”
