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Chapter Twenty-Five

Writer's picture: MissMortuaryMissMortuary

Knight’s wheezing could be heard before Spade opened the door to the make-shift infirmary of X. He hesitated, dreading the sight of his brother once again bed-ridden and unwell.


For a time, Spade allowed himself to hope Knight’s health would continue to improve. Working with Norma gave Knight an invigorating purpose, making him seem more alive. He smiled more easily. He was finally free to move his body and do the things he had always wanted; the sort of things Spade took for granted—like breathing without the weight of phlegm blocking his throat or walking on legs that didn’t feel leaden.


But Knight was back in bed after pushing himself too hard for the opening day of Hari’s Grill. His good health turned out to be short-lived. Nothing more than a spark of fortune, brief and unhelpful. The kind that inspired hope and then crushed it. Nothing could ever last.


Spade pushed open the door.


Rather than being a proper room, the infirmary was merely a corner of Norma’s lab. Norma carried out her normal duties in the main area with her plants, beakers, and burners, while Knight fitfully slept in an impromptu cot pushed into the corner. A thin blanket encased his shivering form, barely enough to keep him warm.


Norma wasn’t exactly a medical doctor. She applied her limited knowledge of medicine to Knight’s well-being, for all the good it might do. Her knowledge hardly extended past standard medicines and herbal balms. Although Norma was remarkably compassionate for a poisoner, she was far better at killing people than curing them.


Spade walked past Norma to the corner where Knight slept. Norma paid him little mind as she sketched out the image of a vibrant orange fern in a notebook, likely part of her research.


Knight’s breath whistled from his lips as he slumbered. Phlegm gurgled deep in his throat, the sound bubbling from his mouth. Spade sat on the edge of the cot, listening to his brother’s labored breathing. He debated whether to wake him up.


Knight opened his eyes before Spade could decide. His voice was reedy and thin. “Hey.”


“Go back to sleep.” Spade adjusted the blanket around Knight’s shoulders. “I’ll get you something better than this rag.”


“Stop, I’m fine.” Knight sat up, propping his weight on his arms. He refused to get settled, as stubborn as he was. Spade could tell that his brother wanted to talk, surely to have a conversation Spade would rather avoid. “I heard about the Grill. I’m sorry, Spade.”


“It’s not that bad,” Spade replied curtly. “Who cares about that slop house?”


“Don’t you?” Knight’s question was cutting, getting right at the heart of the matter. He could always smell Spade’s lies. “You worked hard for it.”


“It’s part of the job. I’ve already moved on.”


“You might feel better if you admit you’re upset. Other people are hurt, too. We’re all disappointed.”


Spade rolled his eyes. “You think I’m upset about losing some greasy pit? As if that was the entire point?”


“Okay, so what is it?”


“Toby,” Spade said. “The point was to get one over him. Let people know that they shouldn’t mess with me. But the old man is sneaky. He’s made me look like an idiot.”


“Sneaky?” Knight’s tone rose in curiosity.


“Toby snuck around in the dark and poured gas on everything. That motherfucker started the fire.”


Knight leaned back against the mattress, taking in the information with a puzzled expression. “Seems extreme.”


“I did go behind his back and—” Spade abruptly changed course, stopping himself from revealing the fate of Louis. “I did some stuff to annoy him. So, it was his way of getting back.”


Knight narrowed his eyes in suspicion. “You killed someone close to him, didn't you? That’s why he retaliated." Spade's silence confirmed it. "Aroth, Spade. What’s wrong with you?”


“Do we really need to go over this again? Look around, Knight. You know how I make money.”

Knight glared at him, but didn't argue. There was no point.


Spade stretched his arms high in the air and cracked his shoulder joints. He yawned, exhaustion creeping up on him. He could almost lie down in Knight’s spot, if not for his brother’s accusatory expression.


“It’s a shame it’s gone,” Knight said. “I hope Sav’s okay. I think she actually enjoyed working there. It got her away from X, gave her something to do. She’s a natural at running a kitchen.”


“It’s because she’s bossy.” Spade shrugged, not caring about Sav’s feelings on the matter. “Nobody’s more upset than Silas. He named the place after his dead boyfriend.”


Knight’s eyes widened. “That’s who Hari is! I thought the name was strange. Poor Silas…”


“Silas never told me he lost someone like that before. He would have kept his mouth shut if the place hadn’t burned down. He was bawling his eyes out like a baby.”


“People do that when they lose important things,” Knight said, admonishment verging on sarcasm. “Did you comfort him?”


“I listened to him yap, but what could I do? It was all gone.”


“It's better than doing nothing," Knight said, although Spade got the sense his brother expected more of him. "At least we had a great opening day. Silas gave us a generous cut of the profits.”


“Who’s ‘us’?”


“Sav and I,” Knight responded. “Didn’t he give you anything?”


“Cheap bastard,” Spade mumbled. “After everything I did for him.”


“You did leave early," Knight pointed out. "You could always ask him about it.”


“He’s probably gambled it away,” Spade said. “He’ll gamble with anything that moves. I saw him stop for a game of dice these street kids were playing. They didn’t even have real kraks. Just rocks. It’s like he can’t stop himself.”


“He should get help.”


Spade laughed. It was funny how many of Silas’s problems began and ended with gambling, especially considering the man’s unfortunate brand of luck. Spade’s life would be easier if Silas could simply snap out of it, but it was unlikely. Gambling put Silas in a haze of impulse and pleasure like nothing else, perhaps even more than sex. There was no helping a guy like that.

Knight frowned. Spade knew his brother wished he'd take him more seriously, but it was hard when he was so naive to the world. If Knight went out, experienced the things Spade did, maybe he would understand.


But wasn't the whole point of going through all of this so that Knight didn't have to experience the extent of those hardships? It was a conundrum, one that Spade didn't like to think too hard about. He needed something in his life to be easy, and his relationship to his brother was the closest familiarity he had.


“How are you doing?” Knight asked.


"I should be asking you that."


Knight shook his head, adjusting his pillow so he could sit up more. “I worry about you sometimes. You seem wound up, like you’re going to explode.”


“You’re the one in bed. I’m still going.”


"I'm serious." Knight reached out to touch Spade’s shoulder, but Spade shook him off. Knight withdrew his hand with irritation.


“Fine, I’ll leave you in a ditch next time,” Knight said.


“You can't even stand. Good luck leaving me anywhere.”


The barbs would have carried on if Norma hadn’t turned her attention to the brothers. She occasionally looked up from her notebook, but otherwise kept her eyes pointed down. Spade suspected she was more comfortable buried in work than talking to people.


“I would take Knight to a real doctor, but it’s not easy,” she said. She spoke with crisp, professional inflection. “We’re criminals. We have to be careful about revealing ourselves to authorities and leaving paper trails.”


“So, you shove him in the corner?” Spade pressed. “That’s really the best you can do?”


“For now, at least.” Norma’s eyes returned to the pen writing across the page. “I have a friend I’m trying to get in touch with. A doctor known to see patients off the books. You might call him a back-alley doctor, well-known in the Gate. But he’s very busy, as you can imagine.”


“Then hurry it up,” Spade snapped. “We’re murderers and criminals. Think of something.”


“Death doesn’t solve every problem,” she replied. “In fact, it usually creates more. I assure you; I am doing everything I can for your brother. Knight is a very good assistant. I certainly don’t want to lose him.”


Knight smiled at the compliment, but it vanished when the door opened. Charien walked into the room, closing the door behind him with fastidious care. He nodded at Spade in polite greeting. Spade knew this fleeting show of politeness was where Charien’s good will ended. If Charien was in Norma’s lab, he had purpose to be there.  


Norma threw the notebook aside on the desk. She faced Charien with a rigid back, her posture too upright, like a soldier at attention. Only her hands fidgeting with the pen gave away her fear. “Charien, how rare to see you here. I wasn’t prepared for—”


Charien held up a delicate hand and Norma ceased speaking entirely. He wore a long coat that reached his ankles, giving him the clean silhouette of a dictator. The coat enshrouded him in grey wool so that he appeared as a shadow with a pale face. A dark green scarf was tied around his neck. The slight flare of his nostrils revealed his distaste for the dingy lab.


“I am not here for you, poisoner,” Charien said, his eyes focused on the corner of the room where the cot was.


Spade glared at Charien from under his brows, hoping he could set the man on fire with a look alone. Charien was undeterred, his quick steps carrying him toward the brothers. Spade scooted in front of Knight, shielding him from Charien’s approach.


Charien towered above them, his height magnified by the low ceilings that made up the tunnels of X. His gaze flickered to Knight, peering over Spade’s head.


“Is he well?” Charien asked.


Silence.


“I believe you didn’t hear me,” Charien said. “How is he?”


Spade refused to answer, offering Charien stony reticence. Charien’s brow quirked, indicating displeasure, until Norma stepped in.


“He’s doing better,” Norma said. “He’ll be back in the lab with me soon.”


“We can only hope,” Charien said. “He looks to be in the last stages of life. I’ve seen it many times before.”


“Fuck you,” Spade spat.


Charien placed his hand on his heart. “What did I do to merit such harsh words?”


Spade stood so their heights were more equal, but Charien still loomed. The top of Spade’s head almost reached Charien’s shoulders. Spade’s muscles tensed as he whiffed Charien’s musky cologne.


Spade was waiting for a growth spurt, so he could bully these bastards. Just wait until he was bigger, these fuckers would regret it. 


“Fuck off,” Spade said. “Nobody wants you here.”


Charien’s lips curled. “I only tell the truth. Your brother will never make it out of here alive.”


“You don’t know shit.”


“I know more than you give me credit for. Move.” Charien pushed past Spade and leaned over the cot. Knight clutched the covers around his neck with the child’s hope of hiding from a monster.


Charien clicked his tongue as he studied Knight. “Oh my, not good at all. Yes, this is dire.”


With fingers flexed like claws, Charien lashed out, his hands wrapped around Knight’s neck. Knight gasped, exhaling the last air in his lungs. He weakly grabbed Charien’s arms. Charien tightened his hold. His cold regard never left Knight’s face.


“How easy it would be to snap his neck,” Charien goaded. “And I wonder what you would do? Would you be strong enough to stop it, Spade?”


Spade reared back, ready to lunge. Charien released Knight. Knight gasped, trying to catch his breath, and rubbed the fingerprints left on his neck.


“Believe it or not, I’m not your enemy,” Charien said, turning abruptly toward Spade.

“I’ll be the judge of that, you fuck.”


“I am here with advice. You forget that I am technically your boss. Consider it a performance review. You should train more, especially if you are so set on picking fights with the Lenores.”


A strangled laugh escaped Spade. “What, are you going to train me?”


The curl of Charien’s lips pulled into a genuine smile. “That is my intention.”


Spade struggled to keep his words from coming out as a surprised stutter.  “Why would you do that?”


“Is it really so shocking? I have trained many of the best. Did you know that I trained Jason Rath?”


Charien clasped his hands behind his back, a gesture calculated to be nonthreatening. Spade saw through the ploy. This was a threat.


“How stupid do you think I am? Rath is dead.”


“Perhaps if he hadn’t let himself become so distracted, he might be with us today. But he let his guard down and paid for it. Dearly.”


Ashe sprang to mind. She spoke of Rath as her first love. Jason she called him, an intimate name for a man everyone else called Rath. Rath was known to be ruthless, which made sense as Charien’s pupil. How different Ashe’s and Rath’s tutelage must have been, a thought Spade couldn’t dwell on.


“I don’t need you,” Spade growled.


“Are you certain?” Charien said, glancing back at Knight. "If something were to happen to your brother now, there is nothing you could do to stop it. Wouldn't it be nice to sleep at night with the knowledge that you could protect him on your own?"


Spade hesitated. He stared at his brother, at the marks on his neck. He would lose if he fought Charien. And Charien wouldn't be the only enemy he made. There would always be more in this line of work. How long before someone found out about Knight and took fate into their own hands?


Charien cocked his head, like a hawk examining his prey. "Despite your brusque manner, I see hunger in you that would be better served with killing than carnal desires.”


Spade blinked. “What?”


“Oh dear, how do I explain this? Take the way you look at Ashe. You hardly look at her face.”


“I look at her face!” Spade burst out. “Most of the time. Depends on what she’s wearing.”


Knight managed to snort derisively despiteCharien's dominating presence. Spade shot him an annoyed glance.


“As if you wouldn’t be doing the same,” Spade grumbled.


“Not with girls,” Knight hissed. “And not with her.”


“Are you two quite finished?” Charien said. “I will keep my eye on you, so my protégé doesn’t have to do it for me.”


Spade scoffed. “You’re spying on me. You’re scared I’ll make a move on Ashe. Too late.”


“I can be a forgiving man. I like to keep my enemies close.”


“So you can stab them in the back,” Spade said. “Fuck off. I don’t want your help.”


“Your temper is truly a marvel,” Charien mused. “You should reconsider. You won’t find anyone with greater skill or aptitude.”


Spade folded his arms. “Too bad.”


“You won’t beat Toby the Hound without me. I used to be acquainted with Toby long ago. I know quite a lot about him,” Charien said. “There are far stronger men in the Gate—and beyond. Why think so small? Toby has lost his touch in recent years. There are greater prizes than dilapidated barbecues.”


Charien had trained many fine killers, and Ashe was one of them. Spade had seen Ashe slice Dral’s throat with expert precision that Charien must have taught her. Spade was a hack butcher by comparison.


“You gonna train me the same way you train Ashe?”


Charien coughed, choking down a guffaw of disbelief. “Of course not. You wouldn’t be fit for what she does.”


“Why not? You think nobody wants me?”


“Killing in bed is not your style. You’re something else. A hungry, craven dog. A scavenger of the dead. Your place is in the streets with the filth. Not silken sheets.”


Spade clenched his teeth. “That’s behind me. I’m not a guts cutter anymore.”


”Yes, you’re beyond panting over the dead with a scalpel.”


The way Charien emphasized panting made Spade nervous. Was the extent of Spade’s depravity that obvious? Could Charien read it on Spade’s face that sometimes his fantasies turned morbid? He fought the blush spreading across his skin. 


“I’m a killer now,” Spade said.


“Is that so?”


“You should see who I’ve taken out. Dral was my first kill.”


“I know you didn’t kill Dral, boy.”


“Shut up.”


“Ashe killed Dral. You should see her list of kills. Too many to count, and yet they keep hiring her! What can I say? She is quite good.”


Charien’s words impacted Spade right on target. Worse, Charien spoke the truth. Spade couldn’t collect himself enough to retort. His old, nervous habit of stuttering returned. 


“I-I killed Dral.”


“Please, you don’t even believe it,” Charien responded. “I know Ashe better than anyone. I know how she kills, how she wields a knife . You would never be so clean. That’s not your strength. Let me show you what you are good at.”


Charien understood Ashe’s strengths and trained her accordingly, no matter how loathsome his lessons were. The cruelty he inflicted on her was not without purpose. It was required for a woman like her to thrive in the Gate.


As much as Spade hated to admit it, he needed Charien if he was ever to best a man like Toby. He swallowed the bitter, distasteful idea, but the lump in his throat remained.


Spade fixed a piercing glare on Charien. “You’ll train me? This isn’t a trick?”


“No trick,” Charien said evenly. “I truly believe you could be a terrifying killer. But not without training. You’re unfocused now. Sloppy, messy, haphazard. I can give you the discipline you need.”


“If you think you have something to teach me, then do it,” Spade said. “Train me.”


“Very good. You’ll find this a most beneficial arrangement. I promise you that.”


Charien offered a gloved hand and clasped Spade’s fingers lightly. The handshake was a perfunctory formality. Charien ended it quickly and made a point of wiping his covered hand with a kerchief.


Spade missed Toby’s robust handshake, even if it was a prelude to him screwing Spade over. It was honest. Charien shook hands like a dead, limp fish.


Knight’s cheeks were drained of color, a sallow shade to his already sickly appearance. The shock of what Spade had agreed to settled in.


This was another of those things Knight couldn’t understand. Everyone had to sell themselves for something or they didn’t survive. Knight never left the bed enough to experience the hard truths Spade understood by instinct.


“You better be worth it,” Spade snarled. “And you better keep your hands off Knight.”


“Don’t worry about that little display earlier,” Charien said. “I was simply proving a point. I look forward to our training sessions.”


“Sure,” Spade responded without excitement. He already dreaded having to spend time with this cretin. Charien talked as much as Silas but without the warmth and charm. Silas had grown on Spade, for better or worse. He doubted the same could ever be said for Charien.


“Training is important,” Charien explained. “Especially if you want to take things from me that are mine. I advise you to be able to match me first, at the very least.”


“I can’t wait for the day I turn this around on you,” Spade said. “You’ll eat your words.”


Charien laughed. “I look forward to your attempt. Many have tried. Even the best have died.”


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