The Zombie Knight Saga 8 Viii. | 'Where An Aberration Doth Grow...'

The guards at the entrance stood upon his arrival and searched him, relieving him of his firearm and three knives.

Colt didn't much care for the way Rofal's men looked at him as he pa.s.sed them in the hall. Whenever he caught one staring, he would meet their gaze evenly until they averted their eyes. Geoffrey was a different story, however.

"Mr. Colt! I was hoping to see you!" Geoffrey was a strange creature. Not yet a grown man, but he often wore tailored black suits and ties with even blacker undershirts. His dark hair was always sharply cut and combed, and his pointed eyebrows made him look perpetually and indignantly attentive.

Colt wondered if ignoring him would make him go away.

"I heard you killed five people the other day," said Geoffrey. "How was it? Did they scream a lot?"

He figured not. "No. They didn't even know what happened."

"Ah. I see. Efficiency. That's less fun, but I can appreciate the preference."

Colt squinted at him as they walked. "What do you want, kid?"

Geoffrey's brow receded a little. "Only to get to know you better, Mr. Colt. I like you. We're kindred spirits, I feel. You're not like the dullards my uncle usually has working for him."

"The dullards I used to make a habit of killing, you mean."

Geoffrey's smile was full of teeth. "My uncle says you're a true savage."

"You should hear what he says about you."

"Oh? Do tell."

"That you're an irreverent pain in the a.s.s with no mind for the consequences of your actions."

Geoffrey laughed. "He worries too much. Still doesn't trust me to handle my own affairs. Well, he's only human, I suppose."

It was then that Colt noticed Geoffrey was carrying something.

A severed human hand.

Colt at once remembered why he loathed this person. "Whose hand is that?"

"Oh, do you want it? I was thinking about giving it to you, actually. I have the other one, as well."

It was a small hand, thin fingers with long nails and pallid skin, preserved, likely taken from a corpse. "Who does it belong to?" he said, even less patient now.

"The girl you killed. Melissa Mallory."

Colt ground his teeth and glowered. "Why do you have it?"

Geoffrey tilted his head, confused. "Because I wanted it, obviously. It makes a nice souvenir, don't you think?"

"How did you even get it? You're not allowed out of the building."

"That would be telling."

"A year ago, I would have killed you where you stood for this."

Geoffrey smiled, and his eyes widened manically. Eagerly. "Perhaps we are not as similar as I thought, Mr. Colt. But then, I can't say I am disappointed. This may be even better."

"And people think I'm psychotic."

"You should be glad," said Geoffrey. "I wouldn't let you talk to me that way if I did not like you, Mr. Colt."

"I'm not afraid of your uncle, idiot."

"Oh, I know. Honestly, that is the most annoying thing about being his nephew. Everyone thinks they should be afraid of him. It tries my patience, sometimes. People are afraid of you, though, aren't they? How do you manage that, exactly?"

"Get the f.u.c.k away from me before I break both your legs and throw you in your uncle's pool."

"Intimidation. Charming. I'll keep that in mind." Surprisingly, he actually left Colt alone. The other people in the hallway were quick to get out of Geoffrey's way.

Joseph Rofal's chamber was just ahead, two guards at the door, Molester-stache and Baldie, as Colt remembered them. He entered after they patted him down.

Rofal and Sw.a.n.k were having a heated conversation. Rofal ripped the gla.s.s lamp off his desk and threw it against the wall. "That money was for a seat at the table!" He saw Colt approaching. "You! This is your fault! You said you killed that a.s.shole!"

Colt raised an eyebrow and looked at the swollen-faced Sw.a.n.k. "What a.s.shole?"
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"A guy in a mask showed up and stole seventy grand earlier tonight. Same guy I saw before."

"How do you know it was the same guy?" Colt asked.

"Well, I guess I don't, but he was definitely wearing the same welding mask. I saw the bullet hole that I put in it."

"Bullet hole." Colt thought back. "Yeah, I remember that, too. Bottom of the mask?"

"Yeah."

"Couldn't be the same guy, though. I definitely killed him."

"I don't know," said Sw.a.n.k, rubbing his purple cheek. "That guy ain't human. We must have shot him at least five times, stabbed him like six. He had knives sticking out of his f.u.c.king chest, man! Didn't even slow him down. I have twenty men out of commission. Broken arms, legs, ribs. f.u.c.ker gave Rogers a concussion the other day."

Rofal glared at him. "This is your responsibility, Colt."

"What the f.u.c.k do you want me to do?" said Colt. "Do you even know where he is?"

Sw.a.n.k shook his head and looked at their boss. "He said he was coming for you. And no disrespect to Colt, but I'm not sure he'd stand much of a chance, anyhow. The guy took down, what, an eighth of all our muscle? In the span of a few days?"

Rofal sat down. "Leave us," he told Sw.a.n.k, who promptly exited. He took a deep breath and ran a hand through his red and gray hair. The weathered lines of his face made his expression all the more foul.

"You sure Sw.a.n.k wasn't followed?"

"He said he wasn't, but who knows. Do you remember anything about this person? You said he was young."

"Looked like a teenager. Seemed really intimidated by me. Before he started beating the s.h.i.t out of everyone, anyway. But it can't be the same guy. He must have had a partner."

"Then what's their objective?"

Colt shrugged. He couldn't help grinning. "Can you think of any reason why someone would want to hurt you?"

Rofal did not look amused. "You are obviously not the person to discuss this with. Tell me how your a.s.signment went."

"I contacted some of my old colleagues in the department. Told them I was innocent, like you said. I'm pretty sure none of them believed me."

"I didn't expect them to. But now they will be conflicted. And perhaps more malleable."

Colt furrowed his brow. "You mean to coerce them."

"Empires are not built on alliances. They are built on conquests."

Colt just looked disgusted.

"Three of your fellow officers and two teenagers," Rofal reminded him. "And you felt nothing when you killed them, no? I'm sure a bit of surreption won't pose too much of a moral dilemma for you."

He stared back coldly. "I expect I'll feel something when I kill you."

"Careful, Colt. Do not jeopardize the understanding we have."

"I apologize," he said through his teeth.

"I'm aware of your current hatred for me," Rofal said. "But in time, I believe you will see the situation as I do."

"Fat chance," said Colt.

"Is it really so ridiculous? With you, I finally have someone reliable who can never betray me. With me, you finally have an employer who appreciates your finer talents. An employer who will not hesitate to show his generosity."

"You have a strange idea of generosity."

"I like guarantees, Colt. A man in my position shouldn't trust anyone when he has the opportunity not to. I'm sure you can understand that. But when I have my guarantee--" He placed a briefcase on the desk. It was full of cash. "--I am free to show my grat.i.tude."

Colt eyed the money. By the size of the bills, there must have been at least five thousand troas. "Money isn't enough," he said.

"Of course. I believe you have earned another two hours."

Colt took the briefcase. "Where are they?"

"Today, they're here." Rofal motioned toward the broad double doors behind him, ornately wooden with bra.s.s lamps on either side. "Tomorrow, they'll be somewhere else."

Colt proceeded through into what could only be Rofal's bedchamber. Four guards looked up as he entered, and then put away their cards, book, and newspaper in order to watch him in silence. He approached the crib in the middle of the room.

Two babies lay sleeping, twins boy and girl. Colt took a relieved breath. He could not smile at them. Not here. He touched his son's forehead and then his daughter's.

Two hours, he had. It wasn't enough. He wanted to spend it as efficiently as possible, but he didn't know how to do that. So before it drove him mad, he decided to just sit down and watch them sleep.

Garovel merely continued observing.