Chapter 32. Pressure

  The Stonefists moved as a single raucous mass with Jeremiah at the center. He felt there was nothing he couldn't do. Bars were open to him, alleys no longer contained monsters. Monty had given him power over Cutter, power over fear, power over life itself.

  “Bar!” someone yelled. The horde cheered and stormed the nearest unfortunate establishment, The Frollicking Frog. They threw down some money, but soon started sneaking drinks from behind the counter.

  Jeremiah was sent to snag a bottle of brandy from the top shelf. He surprised himself by hurling an empty glass across the room, leaping the counter, seizing the bottle, and returning to the others before the harried bartender had even finished investigating the new crash.

  The horde exited as abruptly as it had entered. Monty lingered, speaking calmly with the furious proprietor.

  Monty rested a hand on Jeremiah’s shoulder as they caroused their way back onto the street. “Well done back there. It’s good to have you in the family .” Then he pointed down a side street. "That way.”

  It was the first direction he’d given since they’d left, and the subs cheered at their leader’s participation. They crashed bar after bar, sometimes downing a few drinks, sometimes staying only long enough to make everyone uncomfortable. Jeremiah was buoyed by the energy, by being part of something, by having fun . He felt invincible.

  Monty’s directions became more frequent, and more precise, dictating exactly where they would go. Jeremiah could sense Monty watching him, but he was enjoying himself too much to be concerned. What did it matter to him which bars the gang ransacked?

  It took several more bars for Jeremiah to realize they were nearing the safe house where Allison, Delilah, and Bruno lived. With every order from Monty, they were closing in. Jeremiah wasn’t sure if it was intentional or coincidence. His friends could be trusted to keep his cover safe, should he run into them, but…no, there was no danger.

  “This way,” said Monty, and the pack turned. Closer.

  Wait, what just happened ? Jeremiah tried to think back, but he was soon swept along to the next establishment, The Charging Bull. He was made to climb on the table of a couple and dance a jig without disturbing their drinks. The couple’s response, like most people’s to their antics, was to quietly suffer the injustice in the face of a ferocious looking gang.

  “Let’s go,” said Monty.

  The subs’ jubilation was briefly stunted. “But boss, we ain’t even got our drinks—” Dronkal’s truncheon corrected the complaint.

  They spilled back onto the street. Jeremiah looked towards Monty, and found Monty looking right back at him. A dozen paces away, arms folded, observing. “ I don’t know how you’re doing it, but I know what you’re doing, ” thought Jeremiah. He was determined not to give away any information.

  “That way,” said Monty.

  What? How? Jeremiah thought back as the group pushed him on, and it became clear. He glanced, he had definitely glanced just as he was thinking about where he didn’t want to go. Well, that was no problem.

  At the next cross road, and Jeremiah gave a surreptitious glance in the opposite direction.

  “Over here,” said Monty, indicating the correct way.

  Another bar, The Verbing Animal. Jeremiah found the lack of naming creativity particularly creative. Monty’s behavior was different in the bar—he was no longer watching Jeremiah, he now looked wherever Jeremiah was looking. Which, Jeremiah realized, was at the patrons to make sure Bruno, Delilah, or Allison weren’t there.

  “Drink this!” A sub shoved a tankard into Jeremiah’s hands. It swam with different hues and featured greasy film on the top and tiny mysterious particles bobbed upwards before disappearing back into obscurity. The horrible drink was a blessing—if he was too drunk to realize where he was, Monty wouldn’t be able to glean information from him.

  “The hell is that?” asked Dronkal.

  “Allsorts,” said the sub. Mix of all the leftovers people don’t drink.”

  “Veto,” said Monty. He snatched the tankard from Jeremiah just before he could down it. Monty sniffed allsorts and ventured a sip. “Not bad, though.”

  “ He’s keeping me sober, ” thought Jeremiah. “ There goes that idea. ”

  “Let’s go,” said Monty.

  Street by street, block by block, they closed in. Jeremiah tried every trick he could think of, to no avail. Closing his eyes, looking rapidly in all directions, trying to look the right way in the same way he had looked the opposite way didn’t work, and was also difficult.

  Soon, they were on the same block as the safe house.

  “In here,” said Monty. The Rambling Owl. They were across the street from the safe house, in the very bar Jeremiah had stopped in himself occasionally when he lived here. It was a spacious inn, more of a restaurant with a few rooms to rent upstairs. The subs spread out in their typical fashion while Jeremiah, his cell mates, and Monty grabbed a more central table.

  Jeremiah kept his head down, worried his reaction would be obvious if he spotted one of his friends. Then he realized keeping his head down was an obvious reaction. Monty was watching him from across the table, the tankard of allsorts still in his grip.

  “Something wrong, Jay?” asked Monty.

  Jeremiah panicked. What was the right answer? “No.”

  Definitely the wrong answer.

  “What do you think about that girl over there?” asked Monty, gesturing with his tankard.

  Jeremiah followed the motion, and it led him right to Delilah. She was seated by the window, a glass of wine and accompanying bottle her only company, and reading a stack of papers. Likely more legal correspondence.

  “She looks sad,” thought Jeremiah. Delilah was slumped on her hand. She picked up the wine glass and almost took a drink, but the wine glass never quite made it to her mouth.

  “What about her?” Jeremiah asked.

  “She’s pretty, ain’t she?” said Monty. Dronkal and Shugga were now looking as well.

  “Suppose so,” said Jeremiah. Didn’t have to lie about that at least.

  “Out of towner,” said Monty. “Like you.”

  “How do you figure?” asked Jeremiah. He tried to feign the perfect balance of curiosity and disinterest.

  “Skin’s too light,” said Monty. “She doesn’t have that healthy Elminian duskiness from the soot. Stains the skin like a tattoo.”

  “So what?” asked Jeremiah. “Want me to steal the wine? Rob her?”

  “Nah, I want you to bring her over here.” Monty kept nodding in her direction, like he was agreeing with a private thought of his own.

  This was bad, as bad as it got. “Doesn’t look like she’s in the mood to chat,” said Jeremiah, trying to hide his panic.

  “Convince her,” said Monty.

  “Get to it, Jay,” said Dronkal.

  “Yeah, you got the look,” said Shugga. “Go charm a little.”

  “ What do I say to her? ” wondered Jeremiah as he approached Delilah’s table. “ How do I explain the situation? How do I… ” Jeremiah caught his reflection in a mirror behind the bar. He looked good, he really did. A bruise on his face made him look daring. He was a made man now. He felt good. He flashed the mirror a winning smile.

  As Jeremiah neared her table, Delilah turned that same sad expression towards him. He flashed that smile again. “Now, what is—”

  “I don’t have any money,” she said. She gave no indication of anything besides wanting to be left alone.

  “Wow!” said Jeremiah. He collapsed in the other chair at her table like he’d been wounded. “You went right for the kill. You didn’t even hesitate. You must really want me to go away.”

  “Correct.” The look she fixed him with was ice cold.

  “Well, I came over because I thought you looked kinda miserable. We’re having a nice night over there, maybe you can join us, have a few drinks on us, relax a little. Maybe get your mind off of whatever has you looking so down.”

  “Not interested.”

  “Of course not. You’re by yourself with a bottle of wine. You’ve got letters, but you’re not really reading them. Bad news, but you already know what they say. Am I right?”

  “…Yes.”

  She answered a question! Despite the danger, this was surprisingly fun.

  Jeremiah leaned across the table. “Those words won’t change. If you want to let them ruin your night too, fine. Keep looking at them. But maybe, just maybe, you can still have a nice night, if you let yourself. So I’m inviting you to come be the center of attention for a while. I won’t keep you if you want to leave. What do you say?”

  Enjoying the story? Show your support by reading it on the official site.

  Delilah just stared at him, brow furrowing. “No, thank you.”

  Jeremiah held up his hands. “No problem. Hope the wine treats you well.” He left her table and returned to his own.

  “Hard luck,” said Dronkal.

  “Half-elves are a fickle lot, huh?” said Monty.

  “Can’t win ‘em all,” said Jeremiah a shrug.

  “Nah, you did good,” said Shugga. “Just wait…wait for it…don’t look…”

  “Offer still open?” asked Delilah. She appeared behind Jeremiah and placed a hand on his shoulder.

  He smiled up at her. “Just for you.”

  “I’m Delilah,” she said, sitting.

  “Beautiful name. I’m Jay, this is Dronkal, Shugga, and sourpus over there is Monty.”

  “And all these?” Delilah asked, gesturing to the frenzy of Subs.

  “Aspirants to a community organization,” said Jeremiah.

  “Oi! Jay!” yelled a Sub, “Come here and—”

  “Veto,” said Monty. The sub was smart enough to immediately turn away. They kept to themselves after that.

  “Tell us about yourself, Delilah, what brings you around here?” asked Jeremiah.

  “Studying to be a defense counselor, actually,” said Delilah. “Would I be wrong to assume I might see some of you or your ‘aspirants’ on a more professional basis someday?”

  “If jail time is what it would take to see you again, it'd be worth it,” said Jeremiah. She rolled her eyes, but smiled at the cheesy line. “But yeah, that might be true.”

  “On that note, can I run something by you, Counselor?” Shugga asked.

  “Oh, I’m not a Counselor yet,” said Delilah.

  “You’d be doing the Stonefists a service,” said Monty, “and we’d be sure to remember you. Wouldn’t we, Jay?”

  “She’s already worth remembering,” said Jeremiah. “But really, no pressure if you’d rather not.”

  Delilah hemmed and hawed, but finally relented. “Alright, what’s the problem?”

  “Okay, so I’ve got a friend whose considering a plea bargain to bring an assault charge down to a breaking and entering charge. But the thing is she did break into the place, but she didn’t assault the guy.”

  “Oh, hell no.” Delilah sat straight pivoted towards Shugga. “That prosecutor is overbidding and trying to get her to just accept the proper charge. Here’s what she needs to do…”

  It had been at least an hour, and all semblance of control had been ceded to the court of Delilah.

  “No, they're bullshitting you.” A dozen subs were gathered around Delilah. “The guard corp is not bound to any promises they make. Only prosecution can do that.

  “But they said if I don’t sign, it might be months before I can see a counselor!” He spoke with such fear Jeremiah felt a compulsion to help him. “My girl is at home alone, she cant take of herself without me.”

  “No! Never sign anything. All of you hear that? No matter what they say to you, never sign anything! They'll pin any case they want on you. And its legal, its all fucking legal!” Delilah slammed her glass and the stem snapped, sending wine across the table. “Shit!”

  A dozen hands jumped to her aid, mopping up wine with rags and sleeves before it could spill into her lap.

  Monty had been as enraptured as anyone, but he finally spoke up. “Would you be interested in work? My crew could use legal representation across the board.”

  “I can't, I'm not certified. Besides there are public barristers assigned to your area you can use,” said Delilah.

  “They're long since bought,” said Monty. “We can put you through law school and more besides.”

  Delilah shook her head, “Sorry. I really can't.”

  “Sure, sure, I understand. How long have you known Jay?”

  Jeremiah's heart leapt in his chest. He had been so at ease, and the question was asked so casually…

  “A few seconds longer than I've known you,” said Delilah.

  Right, that was never going to work on her. “Best few seconds I ever spent,” said Jeremiah.

  “You don’t mind coming on a strong, that’s for sure,” Delilah said. The crowd laughed at his expense.

  “I just think you’re worth the risk,” said Jeremiah.

  “Risk? What risk?” asked Delilah. She seemed genuinely puzzled.

  “It’s rough, getting embarrassed in front of all your friends. But I’d hate for pride to get between me and a girl like you.” Yeah, Delilah would be into the humble approach.

  “Oh? And what’s a girl to do with a man with no pride?”

  Not the direction he thought she’d go. He wasn’t even sure of the exact definition of pride. Time to improvise. “Let your guard down.”

  She raised her eyebrows. “Let my guard down?”

  The table went quiet.

  “That’s right. A guy who puts aside his pride for you will do what’s best for you. Even at his own expense.” Jeremiah hoped delivering that line with bravado would make up for it not making sense.

  Delilah rewarded him with a smile. “I’ll give you that it’s new. I deal with a lot of prideful men in my line of work.”

  “And tonight is certainly a night you deserve something new.”

  There were some snickers around the table.

  “Oh, so you think tonight is a good night for you, huh?” she asked.

  She gave him no choice. He leaned in and locked eyes with her. “Absolutely.”

  The playful smile dropped from her face for just a second before coming back. To Jeremiah’s delight, she squirmed a bit and pushed him back, “Get outta here with that!” she laughed.

  The crowd whooped and hollered.

  Jeremiah felt good. Actually, he felt great. Delilah was playing her part flawlessly and was proving very fun to flirt with.

  “So Jay, how long have you known Delilah?” asked Monty suddenly.

  “A few yinutes,” said Jeremiah. Years had almost left his mouth, almost.

  “You two are hitting it off well,” Monty continued, “I think you’ve got her hooked Jay.”

  Delilah fixed Monty with a cold glare. “It’s certainly not your place to say,”

  “And why shouldn’t it be?” said Monty. He was scowling at her now.

  “Uh, boss, don’t you think this is a little…weird?” said Shugga, looking apologetically at Delilah.

  “Not at all,” said Monty. He was overreaching, Jeremiah realized, frustrated his trap hadn’t sprung. Maybe even questioning if there was anything to trap in the first place.

  “I think we’re done here,” said Delilah. “It was a pleasure to meet you all.”

  “Indeed we are.” Jeremiah stood as well. “Goodnight, everyone.”

  “Excuse me?” Delilah’s voice carried a low threat.

  “I’m at least walking you home, it’s not safe out there right now.”

  “It’s really not,” said Dronkal.

  “I don’t want any part in your gang initiation, or whatever this is,” said Delilah.

  “Come on, boss, don’t scare the talent,” said another sub.

  “I-uh,” Monty stalled, he looked at the subs now willing to meet his gaze, and the cell members that wouldn’t. “I was making a joke. It was in poor taste. My apologies, Delilah. Jay.”

  “I don’t accept your apology, but thank you for offering it,” said Delilah.

  “May I still walk you home?” Jeremiah asked, offering an arm.

  “You may,” said Delilah, taking it.

  They walked to the door arm in arm, stoic and distinguished.

  “Oi, fellas! Jay’s gonna get him some!” screamed a sub. The bar erupted in a cheer and subs started getting up to follow them.

  “I…don’t live far,” said Delilah. She was trying to maintain a straight face despite the absurdity of their escort.

  “I’ll walk you every step of the way,” said Jeremiah. The subs were following them like ducklings, still cheering and shouting encouragement to Jay.

  Delilah lead Jeremiah, arm in arm still, to the door across the street.

  “Just here,” she said, “top floor.”

  “Every step,” said Jeremiah.

  A cute smile played over Delilah’s lips. They entered the building, the door bouncing behind them as the subs followed them through. A continuous stream of encouragement and lewd suggestions chased them up the stairs to Delilah’s door. They gathered on the landing and watched Delilah and Jar from the corner, their faces alight with anticipation.

  Delilah stood with her back to the door and faced Jeremiah. “Well, here we are.”

  “I think we’ve been followed,” said Jeremiah.

  Delilah giggled. Had he ever heard that before?

  “Seems like they’re laboring under some sort of assumption,” said Delilah.

  “Seems like a speculation to me,” said Jeremiah.

  They stood quietly together for a moment, the Subs raucous noise stilling in anticipation.

  Delilah started to turn. “Thanks for the-”

  Jeremiah put a hand around the small of Delilah’s back, pulled her in, and kissed her. It took every iota of courage he had. It felt like an awful, coercive thing to do, until he felt her kiss him back.

  Suddenly it was the right thing to do, maybe the rightest thing he had ever done. Delilah was an aggressive kisser. Very aggressive.

  The subs went wild.

  Without breaking the kiss, Jeremiah pushed her against the door. The breathy noise she let out on impact drove the last fragments of doubt from his mind. The kiss rapidly grew in intensity, becoming demanding, then frantic. He felt for the doorknob and twisted it. He and Delilah fell together through the doorway, hands too busy to arrest their fall, all while the subs cheered and chanted his name.

  “Ahem.”

  Sitting at the dinner table, the checkers board between them forgotten, were Bruno and Allison.

  “Told ya,” said Bruno.