Chapter 49: Kidnapping
Month 1, Day 17, 8:30PM
Cory
Cory, slinking through the edges of the streets in the city’s gloom — while wrapped in a dark green dress and wearing green-antlers pin — patrolled the streets between the Stag territory, and the Morrows.
She possessed neither the strength, nor the magic, to fight. But, everyone in the Verdant Stags had a role to play. While regular enforcers had teamed up with Pack members to prepare to attack the Morrows deep within their own territory. Cory did not have any experience with battle wands or fighting. But that wasn’t the point. The Stags had spread every available associate along the borders of their territory to signal if any Morrows crossed the line.
Her patrol had been picked for her to place her near Poe’s detective agency. It sat close to the edge of the Stag territory, so she could keep an eye out for Morrows and her unique surveillance of Poe and Marie, if nothing else, made her familiar with the locals. So, if the Morrows disguised themselves—or didn’t wear their typical armbands—she would still probably spot them.
At the appointed time, Cory saw the green and gold sparks flash over the city. The assault had begun. Cory knew, that the Stags had already been out covertly for hours, but now the bid attack was coming. Cory felt relief, excitement, and dread all at once. Lord Morrow would finally get what was coming to them.
Since she wasn’t fighting, she tried to remain unnoticed on her patrol. There weren’t enough people to work in pairs this far away from the main fight, but a quick pull at the flags on the corner, and a specialized team would be dispatched to handle any Morrow’s incursion.
So far, it was working.
Until, striding down the street, a group of four Morrows, three of them with wands out, had crossed that invisible line between the two territories. Cory recognized the smallest of the group, Jemnie, who lead the way. But the other three had the look of very dangerous men.
Aside from the aura of intimidation and grim look, and all but Cory looked like they’d survived a fight. Their clothes were bloodied and torn, and one had a scorch mark on his sleeve. As they strode down the sidewalk, the best dressed of the squad furiously shouted at Jemnie.
Since they were coming straight at Cory, she darted into a deep doorway. She was plenty close to hear the man’s rant.
“Boy, you’d better be right about this. We have to salvage something from this mess; we need to secure his heirs. Lord Morrow will have our heads for what just happened at the Manor. If we can secure the last one, then we’ll at least have a chance to survive the night.”
“Kett, go easy,” a calm voiced man said, “we don’t know who might be listening.”
“Let’s keep our …” A rough voice in the group started to interject.
At that moment the group walked past Cory’s hiding place. ‘Don’t see me. Don’t see me.’ She thought furiously. It seemed like it would work, Jemnie and the irate man striding past without a glance. The speaking man, however, was on Cory in a flash, dragging her out of the doorway.
“Who are you?” he demanded. “Were you listening?”
“No. No one.” Cory stuttered. Her arm felt like the grabbing man was going to pull out of its socket, and his grip was deeply painful. She thrashed against the grip.
“Nevermind, be still.” He pointed his wand inches from Cory’s eyes. She stopped struggling — heart hammering and lungs struggling to find breath.
“What now?” Kett demanded.
“This one is a Stag.” Her captor tapped his wand on Cory’s pin. “We can’t let her alert any of the others. I can do her right now.” He put his wand under Cory’s chin.
“On the street?” The calm one asked skeptically. “Where anyone could see us?”
“Why don’t we take her with us?” Jemnie squeaked. “Uh, a hostage? Could be useful.”
Cory didn’t feel relief, but Jemnie might be buying her some time to escape, or alert the Stags. She was about to speak, but her captor pushed the tip of the wand into the tender flesh under her jaw.
Cory whimpered. She hated that she did, but she couldn’t help it.
“You’re soft.” Kett replied to Jemnie. “You haven’t had a proper induction, have you? Now’s your chance.” Kett switched hands with the wand, and pulled a serrated dagger from his waistband. He handed the wicked-looking thing to Jemnie. “Stick her quick. We don’t want to waste a wand’s charge on a scout.”
Jemnie looked down at the knife, pale and shaking.
“Jemnie” Cory pleaded. “It’s me. We’re friends, aren’t we?”
Kett flashed forward, grabbed Cory’s hair, and shoved a red pocket kerchief into her mouth. The gag had been perfumed with something, so her mouth and nose filled the scent of sweet flowers mixed with the acrid bitterness of the soap or oil that carried the perfume. He let her hair go, and waved Cory forward.
“So, you’ve made friends with a Stag whore.” Kett said. It wasn’t a question; Kett didn’t care. “Better prove yourself boy, or I’ll take that knife back and there’ll be two bodies bleeding out.”
“Like he said, though,” Jemnie quivered, waving to the calm Morrow, and taking the time to look pointedly around at buildings on the street, “We should get her into a less public spot.” Still, Jemnie shook so hard with fear and adrenaline, blinking through tears, Cory thought he looked like he would pass out from the stress.
“Quiet or in the open, doesn’t matter to a true Morrow.” Kett replied coldly. His blue eyes were as dead as a fish.
“Boss, the kid’s got a point.” Cory’s captor said. “Don’t want to alert a patrol.”
“It was your suggestion in the first place,” Kett muttered. “Fine. We’ll go a few blocks and look for a likely spot.” Kett smiled, then whipped around and punched Cory in the nose.
Everything had been happening so fast, but the punch felt like honey pouring from a jug. She’d seen it all, her body’s adrenaline pushing her to move out of the way, but her captor’s grip tightening like a screw vise on too soft wood and crushing it. She’d not moved at all when Kett’s fist hit her between the eyes. At first, it was just the impact that surprised her, then she felt dizzy. Her nose blossomed with incredible pain. She couldn’t suck air through the gag, so her mouth filled with blood from her bleeding nose. As she struggled to breathe, the man gripping her began dragging her down the street; wand still firmly placed under her chin.
‘I’m going to die.’ She realized, terrified. The Morrows drug her past the flag on the corner, and although she thrashed to try to reach the fluttering green ribbon, all she got was another strong punch in the face, this time from the grabbing man who was dragging her by the arm.
“Be quiet. It will all be over soon.” The calm one murmured to Cory.
The group dragged her around another corner and came upon a lightless street. The lamps had gone out; either from lack of maintenance or just bad luck.
“This street’s nice and dark.” Kett said.
“Uh, we’re not far from the August Agency here.” Jemnie said. “Maybe we should …”
“Don’t care what you think kid. We don’t want to waste too much time on this whore anyway. We got to get going.” Kett pushed Jemnie toward Cory. “Kill her quick, and we’ll go secure Lord Morrow’s bastard.”
“But …” Jemnie began to protest, but Kett punched him in the gut, which sent him sprawling. On the ground, he mixed crying with coughing, as he writhed in pain.
“You want to be a Morrow? Be one. I don’t have time for weaklings.” Kett pointed his wand at Jemnie. “Kill or be killed. Pick one.”
“I’ll do it. Don’t … I’ll do it.” The terrified boy rasped. He forced himself up, and picked the knife up from where he’d dropped it. Even in the shadowed alley, it seemed to gleam. Jemnie limped over to Cory. The man holding Cory twisted her arm behind her and gripped her hair, making her face her friend. Her probable killer.
“You want to stab her hard in the throat.” The quiet one advised Cory. “That’ll be quickest.”
“Sorry.” Jemnie whispered toward Cory, looking away from her pleading eyes and bloody face. He stared down at the knife and gripped it tight.
“Lady Raven Queen,’ Cory prayed as she blinked tears from her eyes. ‘Save me now, and I will be your servant. Save me and I’ll never waiver in my love for you.’
In her terror, she must have been hallucinating, because she smelt something like burn cinnamon and coriander.
Perhaps it wasn’t all just thoughts, because Cory had apparently made noises through the gag.
“What’s she saying?” The calm Morrow said. “Sounds like …” He reached and loosened the gag. Cory tried to shove it from her mouth with her tongue.
A figure appeared on the far end of the street, like a shadow that rose from out of the darkness. Kett noticed her first.
“Little Marie?” Kett asked. Four wands raised toward the newcomer. Cory wanted to scream, to warn Marie to run.
The black-clothed figure carried a black staff and she seemed to swirl with eldritch power. Her black cloak rippled. Her raven-black hair floated in loose halo around her head. A conduit flashed in her hand. She pounded the end of the midnight black stick into the street, and the harsh sound of a raven’s call answered Kett’s question.
“The Raven Queen?” Cory heard the calm one exclaim, but now he sounded considerably less calm.