Chapter fifty
Jeremy's frown never wavered. Instead, he cocked a brow with his tired, brown eyes studying his younger brother like he was out of his mind. "This is me trying to pretend I'm disturbed; the young girl clearly has her own back."
"I don't doubt that," the other man snarled rashly. He paused to gather an atom of his sanity and fill his lungs with air. When that didn't work, he slammed a hand against the post. "Dammit, she's weak compared to beings like Ozii. And without me there to control her, she has a bit of some temper that should not be snapped. I imagine her flooding the entire tavern already." He waved his arms like a child.
When all Jeremy Tonnel did was smirk at him, he felt color hit his cheeks shamefully. But soon after, the man placed both his hands on his brother's shoulders in a way only big brothers knew how.
"I'm glad you finally have someone to worry about," he started. "However Abraham, we've lost two of our brothers in the worst ways possible." His voice took a sad edge but he coughed it off and concluded. "So whatever has to be done needs to be done now or we're going to lose a third."
Abraham Tonnel was nodding to that, finally managing to bring his wits back in check. "Gather the rest…" he ordered, "…we're leaving now!"
Jeremy cast him a look of admiration, just before his smile returned. "Yes, Your Majesty."
***
It was all sin as always.
And of course… Italian Scotch.
But with the boss away, things got a little more heated. The tavern was a mess, using the best word. Drunk men with spilling drinks in their cups chased after half dressed lasses. The air hung with a stench of something mixed with alcohol, sweat and cheroot smoke. But nobody cared!
Until the door flung open rather carefully.
All eyes turned towards the direction just before some mouths dropped open in shock. Just by the doorway was one lady they shouldn't be there. Not because of her dainty, curvy features or menacing tattoos, but because of the feeling that came with her advent. Fear.
Razia tilted her head at them, studying the entire scene with glowing white eyes that held nothing but disgust.
A few steps closer from her side was all it took to force the rest our of their seats. And then, she stopped. From the corner of her left eye, she'd noticed at least four people slip out weapons. Someone behind the counter revealed an axe.
Only the women were sensible enough to scurry off rather quietly, leaving the drunk, armed men in her mercy.
As much as she'd have loved to draw a few organs out of each, a much better thought reached her mind.
"I need to speak with the owner of this tavern…" authority laced her voice, "…it'd be better for all of us if this happens very peacefully."
If she expected an answer, it was surely not being shown a few more weapons.
"The boss has gone on a trip," replied the man with the axe, giving her a look afterwards that meant _you can go now._
But of course not. Sighing, Razia Singh pulled out one of the blades at her hip and went forward fearlessly.
The men strangely paved way for her while she did so, only flinching slightly when her hair returned to its usual shade of ebony and her eyes the normal hazel. Certainly, that had to be some sort of magic dye!
When she arrived at the counter, she made a show of studying the surrounding around her, something like disgust fueling her face. "You all make a unique type of sack, don't you," she suddenly asked the bartender. "Well, two days ago, I received a note in it, which only mean it was sent from here. For the last time, where is your boss?"
At her words, a man shut the door. The rest began stalking around her in a way that was supposed to be threatening, but she remained still, just slipping her sword back into its sheath.
Just for sample purposes, she stretched a hand to the man with the axe, lowering it very slowly afterwards. Although her action sparked confusion, the effect came soon enough to clear it.
The man released a low, painful groan from the base of his throat just as his body lowered at the same pace with the lady's hand. As though…as though she was moving him.
Sweat poured down his reddening face, crossing the hard veins that showed like the blood in them had suddenly begun to push hard against their walls.
Razia closed a fist…and he fell to his fours, now screaming frustratingly. He might not have understood what was happening, but he was sure it felt like she was forcing his blood out of his body.
The sight caused others to gawk, awed and frightened to their toes. And instinctively, they stalked backwards.
But the water demon seemed to be enjoying this.
Suddenly, the door flung open to welcome a new set of strangers that was certainly about to add to the drama.
"I thought you were being metaphorical when you said she could bend blood," said Jeremy sounding impressed like a man wasn't about to die.
All Abraham did in response was smile arrogantly, his eyes taking in the most thrilling scene of his life.
The men dispersed fully to contain their newest guests…but their gawks never wavered.
The bartender was the only one who still managed discerning stare. "What do all of you want?"
Calpurnia pushed through her allies and walked forward, her young, deceptive features attracting a pair of eyes or two. With perfect grace, she stepped over Razia's victim and cast green eyes round her audience. "Allow me to introduce my nephews…" she gestured towards the King and his brother, "…Jeremy and Abraham, King of Decresh."
A few brows rose when she said _nephews_ but that was not important now, was it? They let her continue as she began her usually slow up and down pacing. "I'm Calpurnia…feel free to think me a witch if you care. Two days ago, we received a letter addressed from this particular sin shell. And we're just hoping you'd kindly say what you know about it."
"The bartender knows something," Zora thinned her lips to an angry line, brown eyes still scanning who she was talking about.
"Say the words, Your Majesty and I'll beat the answer out of his lips," flashing her usual, sarcastic smile.
Razia had finally freed her victim reluctantly, turning her attention to their leader as well. And at that moment, she found something like admiration flicker in those blue, beautiful eyes of his.
Soon after, he glanced from her to the bartender and the look turned cold. "Do you have a brother, dear fellow?"
The man's grim turned uncertain, almost like he'd been contemplating whether or not to speak. His tired eyes looked through the nine unwanted guests, just before he shook his head in response.
"I thought so," whispered Abraham. "Because if you did, you'd understand how much it hurts to lose three of them in a moment." When he heard his own voice grow shaky and crack, he coughed. And from deep down somewhere, he let the bad in him lead the way.