Best Laid Plans by D. P. Prior

Author:D. P. Prior
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub
Tags: Sword & Sorcery, Science Fiction & Fantasy, Horror, Dark Fantasy, Fantasy, Epic, Genre Fiction, Literature & Fiction
ISBN: 1466417412
Publisher: Homunculus Books
Published: 2013-12-03T00:00:00+00:00

A HARMONICA IN THE NIGHT

The rumble of distant thunder woke her. It was dank and cold, the air thick with must. Rhiannon winced at the thumping in her head that kept time to the regular drip-drip of water upon the hard stone floor. Her throat felt bruised and constricted. She coughed to ease it, gingerly touching the skin and wincing at the pain. Judging by the stiffness in her back and hips she had been there for some time. She forced herself into a sitting position and swept her hair out of her eyes.

The last thing she recalled was Pater Limus pulling her away from the ghoul. She’d been shocked at his strength, the easy way he ripped the creature limb from limb. She’d been frozen, rooted to the spot as he slung her over his shoulder and carried her off. She’d struggled against his cold, ungiving grip, the skin of hands waxy and tinged with blue. He’d set her down so that he could throttle her with icy fingers, a single tear leaving its trail down his bloodless cheek. She’d tried to scream as her vision blurred and then darkness had taken her.

Her eyes adjusted to the gloom and she saw that she was in a circular room with an uneven floor. Puddles of inky water collected in the depressions and damp climbed the windowless walls. A wooden ladder led to a trapdoor in the ceiling.

A muffled sound —was it a harmonica?—reached her from outside. She tilted her head at each successive note, recognizing the lilting melody of the wedding jig she’d been forced to learn as a child. The music stopped abruptly. There was a creak and a thud, footfalls from above. The trap in the ceiling rattled and a crack appeared allowing dirty yellowish light to filter through. Whispers were exchanged and then the trap opened fully. A young woman backed down the ladder, her arse sticking out like it was on display. She turned and squinted at Rhiannon, a mass of chestnut hair framing a sultry face. She was dressed in a starchy white blouse and dowdy pleated skirt. Both were stained with sweat and dirt. An overpowering perfume wafted in with her.

A man clambered down behind her. He was wearing a black leather jacket with the faded emblem of a lightning bolt on the back. There was no mistaking the lank greasy hair, the spindly legs clad in patched denim.

‘Elias!’ Rhiannon rasped. Her throat felt like she’d swallowed glass.

The bard held a finger to his lips and squatted down beside her. ‘Ol’ fatty’s upstairs. I kid you not, every time he came to the window it was like an eclipse.’

The woman with the chestnut hair was glancing from Rhiannon to the open trap. ‘Can she move? We need to go.’

‘Course I can move.’ Rhiannon forced the words out through the pain. She pushed herself to her feet and swooned. She would have fallen had Elias not caught her.

‘What the clanging bell is that?’ Elias peered at the back of her neck.

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