The Burial Club by Parker Foye

Author:Parker Foye
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Tenebrosity Press
Published: 2019-09-10T00:00:00+00:00

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"—and then he had the nerve to demand I return his engagement— You're awake, are you? Finally. I'd forgotten how delicate you can be."

Wakefulness came to Aggy like ripples spreading into a stream. He grunted to acknowledge the stranger's comment, not having any words available but not wanting to seem rude. He lifted his hands to rub sleep from his eyes, only to halt before the action could complete; moving his arms resulted in a metallic clank followed by a sibilant scraping sound. Further exploration revealed that chains bound Aggy's wrists and anchored him to a wooden chair, scarred around the arms as if people in his situation had been seated upon it before. Alarm moved sluggishly through Aggy's body and into his brain. His heart thudded sickly.

"This is not optimum," Aggy said, looking around himself. "Not optimum at all."

Low light disguised the truth of lumpy silhouettes bordering the large room, which comprised of a stained stone floor, a solitary door barred from the inside, and no windows. Light seeped beneath the door and flickered from a candle set upon an ornate side table acned with wax. Aggy sat on a matching chair, while his abductor stood behind another a few feet opposite, where they braced themselves on the high, carved back with one gloved hand. They held a pipe in the other. The smoke recalled Laurel's library and his companion, the one who had spied Aggy in Laurel's tree. Had Laurel given her name? Aggy couldn't recall, if even it were she.

Aggy slid his gaze past her, searching for another exit, but found none. He shuffled into a more comfortable position to ease the ache in his shoulders. At least his hangover had moved on, though a very similar headache had taken advantage of the vacancy—thankfully without the accompanying nausea.

"How long was I out?" he asked, returning his attention to his abductor.

"Minutes."

Some of the tension eased from Aggy's neck. Minutes were preferable to hours, though the brief time spoke loudly of the swiftness of his removal to the dank room: the work of professionals practised in such duties. Nerves coiled in Aggy's gut.

Steeling himself, he regarded his unwanted companion. "I don't think we've met. I'd offer my hand, but..." He clanked the chains pointedly.

She frowned. "We haven't met. Why is that relevant?"

"Regarding my delicacy. You can't forget what you don't know."

"Pardon? No." She waved her pipe dismissively. "Not relevant. Stop speaking about unimportant things. You're meant to be dead."

Aggy's head throbbed, exacerbated by the flickering candle. He closed his eyes. "I'm not dead. At present, I suppose I should say. The status is always subject to change."

"I see why John likes you," she said. She didn't sound like John's approval was a good thing.

Aggy couldn't be certain who John was, though he rather suspected him to be handsome, and annoying, and inconveniently absent.

Aggy shifted on his chair, the chains dragging with the motion. He opened his eyes. "Is there a reason I'm here? I don't mean to be rude, but I was rather in the middle of something.

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