Page 37 of Wanted: Rogues and Bards

Fenric was pissed enough that he was half tempted to take a swing at Lirion, but he still had enough working brain cells to know the bard actually had a good point. If he killed Lance before he got his answers, he might never find his mother’s treasures. “Where are my mother’s things? Who has them now?” he barked.

“Wh-what?” Lance whimpered, so Fenric slugged him again, snapping his head in the other direction.

“My mother. Katrina Lowell. How dare you forget her? People worshipped her and you extinguished her light like she was nothing. Where are all the little treasures you stole? She was the most beautiful woman, with long dark hair and golden eyes. Do you remember her now? The woman you stabbed in the heart? Where is the sapphire necklace? And the treasure box? And the opal brooch? And the gold bracelet with the little charms?”

Each item he listed, he hit Lance. Flesh hitting flesh made an ugly, wet, thick sound, but Fenric barely noticed. Blood spilled over Lance’s lips and his right eye began to swell shut, but it wasn’t enough. Fenric wanted this bastard to suffer like his mother had suffered.

“What about⁠—”

“I don’t know!” Lance screamed before Fenric’s fist could land again.

Fenric lifted his fist to hit him again, but Lirion grabbed his arm with both hands, jerking him backward. Fenric snarled and fought against Lirion’s grip, ready to start pounding on the pink-haired man, but he stopped himself at the last second, as if waking from his furious fog to remember where he was.

“How about we try a follow-up question and then, if you don’t like the answer, you hit?”

Fenric glared at the man. Hitting made him feel somewhat better. Talking only made him more frustrated. “Fine.” He shifted his scowl to Lance. “Do you know anything that will keep me from killing you right here and now?”

“I-I-I…” the hero stammered. More blood poured down his face and dripped onto his bare chest.

“I’m going back to hitting him.”

“No!” Lance cried out, his voice cracking in his panic. “The fence! The fence! Gale found a guy earlier to buy some of the jewelry we hadn’t already sold. H-he’s still here in town.”

Fenric clenched his teeth until his jaw ached. Gale Reeve was in town, too? Just another slimy member of his old team. Should he believe this scumbag? Maybe he should just beat on him for a while longer.

“Name!” Lirion barked before Fenric could.

“Calder. Calder Rigs! He doesn’t have a shop here. Travels. But he’s here. Will be for a few days. He-he knows where the stuff is.” Lance’s one working eye blinked furiously as blood and sweat dripped into it. His breathing was ragged and thick between words thanks to his broken nose.

“Okay. Now it’s my turn. You got your information,” Lirion argued, his hands tightening on Fenric’s arm again and pulling him backward.

He wasn’t satisfied by half, but one look at Lirion’s face and Fenric felt as if he were looking into a mirror. He recognized those same lines of desperation and determination. Fear and sheer ruthlessness filled those bright eyes that were locked on Lance’s ruined face. As much as he wanted to grind up the last of Lance’s life, Lirion had gotten to the bastard first. At least Fenric had gotten something useful out of the man. The second Lirion had what he wanted, Fenric was killing Lance. No more talking.

“Fine. I—” Fenric stepped away from Lance when the door to the room swung open.

“Hey, Lance, are you done yet? The rest of us are getting bored, and…”

They all stood frozen as the slender black-haired man with the scar stretching down his left cheek strode into the room. The sword and rose emblazoned on his jerkin made Fenric’s blood run cold. The newcomer’s words trailed off as he took in the sight of Fenric, Lirion, and finally landed on a bloody and beaten Lance. It was Gale Reeve. Fenric sighed deep in his soul. Of course it was Gale. Lance never traveled anywhere without his so-called shadow. He was lucky Bash wasn’t there as well.

“Fuck,” Lirion swore, sounding as if his soul was being ripped from his body.

“Kill him! Kill ’em, Gale!” Lance bellowed, breaking everyone’s paralysis.

Fenric swung and hit Gale in the mouth, but it wasn’t even half of his strength because he’d first had to pull free of Lirion. The bard was tall and slender, but his clothes hid a surprising amount of muscle. Lirion darted away while Fenric lunged at Gale, burying an uppercut in the man’s gut, knocking the air from his lungs.

“Fen, down!” Lirion shouted.

He didn’t question it, just dropped flat on the ground a second before he heard pottery crashing above him. He glanced up in time to see broken clay from a wine bottle and wine pouring down the front of Gale as he stumbled backward into the hall. Lirion gracefully leapt over Fenric and slammed the door shut again.

Fenric shoved to his feet. “What are you doing? It’s the only way out of here.”

“Not the only way.” Lirion pulled Fenric over to a small window hidden behind some heavy velvet curtains. The entire time, Lance was shouting at the top of his lungs for someone to set him free and kill Fenric.

“We’re on the second floor,” Fenric argued as Lirion opened the window.

The door to the room slammed open again with enough force the entire room seemed to shake. Gale stood fuming in the doorway, his face streaked with wine and blood.

“Yeah, and I’m not going out door number one,” Lirion snapped.