The Whorehouse Devil

First thing he noticed was that Silkie had hired a new girl: Nidera Takeri. The name sounded foreign. Over the years, Cullen had carried letters and dispatches for the Redhand chieftain to the various clan lands, as well as Creeya, Waejontor, and Shaurone. The name did not match up to any he had been to. That had been on the fifteenth, the day after he last came through. It did not make sense that Silkie would hire a new girl when she intended to pull up stakes.

He flipped the page over and saw that a girl's name had been scratched out. It took him a second to decipher whose it was, it seemed as if that stupid clerk's hand must have been shaking, and instead of drawing a neat line through it he had scribbled across it.

"Battista." One of the Waejontori girls, and the most popular of them. She could suck and swallow as well as the best Cullen had ever been with. "Why'd you leave? Or did you?"

Cullen felt that tightening in his gut, the spasming of instinct that said something happened to her.

He kept scanning the pages, and found that three names were scratched out before someone had drawn a long diagonal line through the rest and then wrote in big letters: Closed.

Silkie did not seem like the type to just leave the books. Cullen blew out the lamp and waited a few minutes for his eyes to become accustomed to the dark again before moving on. The door banged shut behind him. He leaped to the side, landed in a crouch, and faced the door with his knives drawn.

"Just the wind. Just the bloody wind." He sheathed his blades, straightened and crossed into the main hall. His gaze went first to the broad curve of the stairway, its polished balustrade glimmering in the moonlight from those windows humans put in the ceilings and called skylights. Stupid looking things. His people were appropriating all kinds of weird architecture and this was one he hoped they ignored. Just cause humans thought of it, did not make it right.

The hall had been given the illusion of privacy with skillfully arranged alcoves of clustered furniture. That at least made sense to Cullen, and he had never objected when he saw the furry aristocrats adopting it.

"Nothing out of place. Damnit."

He thought back to the clerk's books, and wondered if Silkie's records might still be in her office. The banging of the shutters grew louder as Cullen started up the stairs, but he ignored that, his ears listening for sounds that the wind could not make. He was not some wet-tailed cub to be spooked by such noises.

Cullen had been to Silkie's office several times over the years, mostly for a tongue-lashing when he got too rowdy with several drinks in him. So he headed down the north corridor when he reached the second floor. The wind carried a whiff of something that raised his hackles again, but he could not identify it beyond that fact that it was definitely cat-like. He could not remember whether Silkie had kept cats, and Cullen did not want to jump to the wrong conclusions. In Cullen's experience, there were cats and then there were CATS. Lycans did not think with their noses like true wolves, and got into the habit of disregarding stray scents very young to avoid the sensory clutter.

The door to Silkie's office looked thick and strong enough to withstand several whacks with a big axe, and he hoped she had not locked it as he put his hand on the knob. Cullen heard the rustle of satin telling him someone was inside – a female someone.

Cullen pushed the door open and ducked as something passed over his head and hit the wall behind him with a thunk. A lamp unshielded and a flash of steel sent Cullen into a roll across the floor to avoid the thrown blade.

He gained his feet and stared for a second at the dark-skinned woman sitting behind the desk with an array of blades in front of her. "Aiming for something taller, Silkie?"

"Cullen! You little sawed off shit, what are you doing here?"

The courier flicked his knives back into their sheaths and shrugged. "What I always do."

"We're closed."

"I see that. What're you doing sitting in the dark with an armory on your desk for?"

Silkie glared at him. "I pray for the likes of Lokynen the Battle-Master, and what do I get? A dwarf lycan."

"You're not making any sense… so I'll forgive that last remark." Cullen strolled over to the desk. "If you want to apologize, just lift your skirts."

"Get out of here." Silkie slapped her hand down on the hilt of a knife.

"And leave you alone with whatever you was aiming at?" Cullen gave another shrug.

Silkie flinched, and sank into her chair. "Stay."

He dragged a chair up next to hers and settled into it. "Tell me what's going on?"

"Something killed six of my girls."

"Any idea what?"

Silkie shook her head, looking suddenly weary. "It's got claws."

"Lot's a things got claws, Silkie." Cullen flicked his hands at her, displaying his claws, the backs of his hands coated in thick golden hair. "Did you send to the garrison?"

"They stay out of this district if they can avoid it." The bitterness in her voice was thick enough to slice.

"Bouncers?"

"Said they were paid to handle myn, not monsters." Silkie sucked in a deep breath. "No one helps a whore, Cullen."

"I do."

"You're hoping for free rides."

"I won't deny it."

"I need a warrior."

"My blades ain't virgins."

"I appreciate the offer … but…"

"I make ya a deal." Cullen's brogue thickened in a betraying manner. "I kill it; ya give me a year's worth."

Silkie looked askance at the lycan who barely came up to her chin. "That could get expensive. The girls…"

"Don't want tha girls. I want a year's worth a you."

GODWAR CENTRAL

The Whorehouse Devil