The Marradith Ryder Series, The Art of Shadows—-Part  3

Rafael was being drugged.

He couldn’t tell how long he’d been in this place now, only that it felt like an eternity. He remembered being injected with something. And then a litany of questions. Some that he could answer. Others that his mind was too fuzzy to grasp.

Don’t tell them anything, he thought. All his training had prepared him for the day that something like this might happen.

It was a different thing to be told what torture was like,  as opposed to feeling steel put to flesh.

He screamed, feeling the hot poker as it touched his back. Tears flowed down his face as he closed his eyes.

The woman stood above him. In the darkness, he could not see her. A pale glow from a light bulb in the next room cast her in shadow.

“How long have you known the Ryders?” she asked.

She toyed with the poker . Tapping it against the wall, she waited for his answer.

“You will tell me,” she hissed. “Because very soon, you won’t be able to stop. How long have you known them?”

“Many years. I knew the Father first. Paul Ryder.”

“How did you know him?”

“He…. he was my superior.”

“He ranked above you in the Sojourners?”

“Yes.”

“Tell me about that.”

*********

It had been years, but as Rafael spoke, he recalled it vivdly.

“There was a prisoner being held for questioning. I came in early one night to deal with her. I’d asked a guard to have her prepared before I got there.  As I instructed, they’d already begun to beat her. The woman had red brown hair. It was long, and she’d asked for something to pull it up with. She didn’t want her hair sticking to her bloody back. It wouldn’t be good to let it lay against her wounds. One of my men found a rubber band and tied her hair up in a ball.”

Rafael paused in his telling of the story, drawing in a long, ragged breath. “She bit her lip when they laid the whip into her back, until her lips began to bleed. When she finally did scream, I …I remember the sound.”

“ You tell me where Percival is, and this all stops, ”  I told her.

“I would tell you … if … I knew!” she spat, shivering. She was on her knees, tied at either side by the wrists.

Her bare back bled profusely.

“He always came to me. I never sought him out. Sometimes he’d leave instructions… in an envelope…. At my door. And even that, I’m sure he had someone else bring.”

“You said you were his lover. So how did that work?”

“He came for me, when he wanted me.”

“Leny. Why should I believe you?”

“Because, it’s the truth. I have no reason to lie. Please!”

I paused when I heard footsteps coming.

Paul Ryder came around the corner. His eyes lit with fury when he saw the condition that Leny was in.

“Why is my prisoner being tortured?” he growled. “Castillo, we’re going to have a talk.” He looked at the guard who stood by with the whip. “You will untie her. Get a matron in here to help her get cleaned up.”

“Sir?” the man looked confused, looking from one of us to the other.

“Do as he says, Adams,” I told him.

“This will only take a minute,” Paul said to Leny.

She shivered, and nodded yes.

******

Paul took me to his office. He slammed the door.

“First of all, you’ve no right to go above me. You will not interrogate my prisoner, or anyone else’s, without my permission. What is it exactly that you hope to gain?”

“Sir. She has been here for several weeks, and we haven’t gotten any information. A different tactic would be in order to obtain information from her.”

“I have plans in the works that you don’t know about. And you don’t need to know about them, because it’s not your place. Understood?”

“Mr. Ryder….”

“Don’t you Mr. Ryder me. You need a vacation. How’s seven weeks without pay sound?”

“We’re wasting time, handling that woman with kid gloves.” I said.

“If you say anything else, Castillo, I swear to God, I will have you called before the Council for insubordination of a superior officer.”

“Would you really? I might have a story to tell them about how you seem to have a…. soft spot for our prisoner. Lenora Rubidoux has been wanted for a long time. Isn’t it strange how easy you’ve been on her? That we’re not any closer to getting Percival than the day you brought her in?”

“Fourteen weeks, without pay,” Paul yelled. “And you’re not saying anything, to anyone. Now. Get out of my office.”

******

The woman put a hand on her hip. “Interesting,” she said softly. “So you and Ryder weren’t the best of friends.”

“No.”

“This woman, Leny. Who is she?”

“She’s Paul’s wife. They got married, a few years later.”

“Maybe,” the woman said , “you can be of some use after all.”

 _____

©2010 Lori Titus

Lori is currently writing a new book about Lazarus and the dead things that dwell therein. Meanwhile, her nightmares are haunted by zombies, werewolves, and a teenager named Marradith.

Lori’s book, Green Water Lullaby, is available here:  http://www.sonar4publications.com/green.html

Vote for The Marradith Ryder Series on Web Fiction Guide:  http://topwebfiction.com/vote.php?for=the-marradith-ryder-series.

For more about the author, read her blog: http://loribeth215.wordpress.com

Coffee, black please.” Rafael said.

Miranda wasn’t looking, but that deep growl of a voice made her stop in her tracks.

All these years, and Rafael Castillo had not changed. She knew why that was, but it never failed to amaze her. What it did was make her angry. Pablo was gone, and this thing still drew breath?

In the back, the cook, Terrance, noticed a change in Miranda’s stance and looked up.

“What are you doing here?” she hissed. She glanced around. No one else was in the restaurant. It was late, only fifteen minutes to closing time.

“You’re looking well, Miranda.”

“I am not well. If you came here for apologies, or to ask for something, you might as well go back to whatever hole you just crawled up from.”

He shook his head. “You have my very deepest sympathy about Pablo.”

“Weren’t your people supposed to keep those things away from here? Where were you when they started running the streets again?”

“Is there a problem Miranda?”

The cook stood at the far end of the counter. He held a butcher knife in his hands.

“Terrance, there’s not,” she said, half turning to him.

“You sure?” the burly man drawled. “Because if there were a problem,” he fixed his eyes on Rafael. “I’d be prepared to handle it for you.”

“Mejo,” she said sternly. “I need you to finish what you were working on back there.”

“Sure.”

Terrance slipped back into the kitchen. He knew what that meant. That line was just as good as his grandmother saying, stay out of grown folks’ business. He stood, listening to what snatches of conversation he could catch, never once putting down his knife.

 *****

“We were not aware that there was any…activity in the area,” Rafael said carefully. “You know how that works. People see things, but they are afraid to say so. And those that do have their sanity questioned.”

“It’s your job to make sure,” she spat. “So why didn’t you?”

“I am not omniscient.”

“Obviously.”

“May I have that coffee?”

She poured him a cup, and then stood there. “We will be closing soon, so you might as well hurry it along.”

He took his time, stirring the coffee even though there was nothing in it.

“You should be proud. Your husband did a great service to the Sojourners, and at great personal cost to himself, you, and the rest of his family.” He reached into his coat pocket and drew out a piece of paper.

He leaned forward. “You will find this amount available in your bank account tomorrow.”

“I don’t want your money. You think that fixes everything?”

“You and I are worldly people,” he replied evenly. “Of course money does not fix the fact that you find yourself a widow. But it does make a great many things easier. That young man in the back, for instance. Wouldn’t it be nice if you had the money to give him a raise? Or perhaps fund his courses at culinary school? That would keep him out of trouble. Tax season is guaranteed to roll around again, and you’ll need to pay for that. Maybe update some equipment in your kitchen? Perhaps your own sons have student loans that need paying off? Or mortgages?”

“While you’re busy researching me for your bribes, there are Wolves out there.”

Rafael furrowed his brow, the first sign of true impatience. “Look at this as money that we owed Pablo, for services rendered. There are not many humans that know our secrets, but we considered him one of our best people. And I knew very well you’d accept nothing from me, that’s why I didn’t bring a check.”

“So one hand brings money. What does the other hand bring?” she asked.

“A simple request.”

“Well lets hear it. I’ll be damned if you expect me to promise you anything, money or not.”

“You have influence over this community. I’d appreciate if you kept things quiet with the people here. Of course, some of them know. We don’t want vigilantes going out, trying to solve this problem. Meting out the law to Wolves is our sole territory. We are the law.”

“You’re not doing anything.”

“We will,” Rafael said. He buttoned up his coat. “This cannot be allowed to escalate. Wolves have no regard for human law, and when their own are taken, regardless of the reason, they feel justified in waging war. And you don’t want that. Down here, they will come and kill as many as they wish. And the human authorities, seeing no better explanation, will call it gang violence.”

“Some of us still believe in an eye for an eye,” she said coldly.

“Yes, well,” Rafael said, standing. “I don’t have time to debate all night, but we understand each other. Keep your men out of the alleys. Make sure they leave their knives and blow torches at home.”

___________________________ 

© 2009 Lori Titus