When the carriage came to a halt before Melo’s offshoot path, Thursday had been the first to the door and the first out. The path had small torches lining it. Beacons for whoever may have gone out for dinner and ended up coming back drunk. A few men still hung out on the porch, smoking, talking, enjoying the crisp night air. It never ended up raining. The sky had cleared and the stars were out, the moon was illuminating the forest beautifully. It was the type of night Thursday would’ve enjoyed walking in. Instead, she reeked of death. Blood caked on her arms and face, she stared at Melo as he got out, watching him step from the carriage to the ground without assistance, yet suddenly use his cane upon taking steps toward her.
“You did very well tonight, Thursday.” Melo told her, nodding his head at her in respect
“Thanks.” she said, feeling suddenly very guilty. While in the process of killing Hellion and Tony Pitstone she really felt good. She felt like she was back doing what she was always meant to do. Now that it was over, the arena back in Serenti, she was reminded of Daisy and the promise she broke just to make some money. She felt, in the pit of her stomach, that she had done something bad. Ironic in that killing two people, she didn’t really care, but a simple promise could tear her apart.
“Come inside with us. I shall have a bath prepared.” Melo said, snapping his fingers. Aaron sped past them, heading inside the massive house with determination. “Though you may not have seen them before, I have several beautiful women that I employ to do several things. Make meals, clean clothes, and so on. I suppose it is my way of substituting for my lost wife.”
“How did she die?” Thursday asked as they started down the path. She had an idea. Any man who had the title of Dark Knight before his name and worked with such unsavory characters as Marcus Shadow had to bring misfortune down upon those he grew close to simply by association.
“She took ill, died in her sleep. This was about ten years ago.” Melo said simply. That was all it seemed he wanted to say about her. They continued inside in silence. Without needing to be told she slipped her shoes off on her own, Melo doing the same right next to her.
“Continue to the main hall, go right, and to the far end on the left. It will be made certain nobody disturbs you.” Melo said softly, shuffing toward the hall and going left. Thursday followed, looking down the left hall to see Melo step into another room. She wanted to ask how he earned his title ominous title and what his past with Karl truly was, merely out of curiosity, but it would have to wait. She started toward the right and, somewhere midway down the hall began to smell flowers. It was strong enough to be noticeable, but not enough to be stifling. At the far end to her left she found a door open and waiting. A pale woman was inside, kneeling besides a marble pit in the floor. It was massive, enough to hold probably all of Melo’s entourage if needed.
“Hello, you must be here for bath?” the little woman asked, her almond shaped eyes dull and empty like those on a doll. She spoke with an accent Thursday had never heard before.
“Yes. What are you here for?” she asked, staring at the seemingly confused woman intently. She held out a cloth and made a motion as though she were wiping an invisible window.
“I… wash?”
Thursday approached and snatched the cloth away.
“Get out.”
The woman gave an odd bow at the waist and shuffled to the door. She closed it behind her and Thursday finally felt as though she could relax. Alone at last, she let her cold face express the feelings that wrenched her gut. Guilt, paranoia, and some sort of sadness all vied for her full attention and release, but she didn’t let them have it. She undressed, leaving her shorts and nearly non-existant top where they lay. Approaching the water, she found it was the source of the smell, some sort of perfume having been mixed into it at some point, perhaps magically. Balancing on one foot, she dipped a white toe into the water, testing it. She couldn’t see any obvious fire or any other means of warming the water, yet it was hot. Not scalding, but not tepid either. Without an ounce of restraint, Thursday let herself slip into the depths of the enormous bath. She found it looked much more shallow than it was and she broke the surface of the water, letting it envelope her entire body. As she sank, she opened her eyes and crossed her legs sitting at the bottom of the bath sitting on the warm marble listlessly. She watched the faint torchlight from under the water, her hair writhing around her like black snakes. When she needed air she returned to the surface and stood. The bath, at it’s deepest, stopped just below her collarbone.
“What am I going to do?” she asked herself, staring at the reflection in the water. Something behind her head caught her eyes and she craned her neck upward. The entire ceiling seemed composed of a glass dome. She was thankful to find that there were no people staring in at her, but the moon was. Looking like a half-shut, judging eye it bore into her, reminding her of what she’d done. She grabbed the cloth and began to scrub vigorously at her fingers and arms. A red, watery mist began to float around her, slowly dissipating into non-existence. With it, so did some of her guilt and anxiety. The evidence was gone, but the lie still remained. Thursday let herself sink once again, the water washing over her face and hair until she was enveloped in it. She fingered her scalp thoroughly, scratching at it and removing knots in her hair. When she came up, Melo was sitting at the edge of the bathing pool, legs crossed. His gray hair hung over his face and he looked tired, moreso than a man his age should have.
“My wife… she did not die from illness.” he said simply.
“I figured. Do you watch all of your fighters bathe or just me?” Thursday asked, sounding truly uncaring about the matter.
“No. You have nothing I desire, nothing I haven’t seen before.”
Drip by drip, Thursday’s hair cut the silence.
“How did she die?”
“Marcus Shadow killed her.” Melo said, his voice devoid of emotion.
“What?! Why is he still-”
“He killed her in the ring.”
She suddenly knew why Melo had come to see her.
“She got involved when a son of ours was killed by one of his men. She challenged him to a duel. My dear… she was quite a warrior. Quite a fierce rogue before I had met her. Shadow was better.”
Thursday stared at him for a moment before finally asking, “Why are you telling me this?”
“I tell you this because I wonder… are you sure you’re ready to do what this job requires? You may very well die or, even worse, a vengeful widower or Boss may try to hurt someone you care about. No, the only person you care about. Daisy.”
“If I wasn’t sure about this I wouldn’t be here.” Thursday said, finding his worry unnecessary and offensive. “Maybe you’d forgotten, but you pressured me to do this. Why the sudden concern?”
“I see the love in your eyes. The same love I once saw in the eyes of my old friend and his wife.”
“Karl and Joyce?”
“Indeed. But that is another story.”
Thursday sighed, her hair had nearly gone completely dry.
“Why haven’t you gotten Shadow for your son and wife?”
Melo grinned, the type of grin that would fit a Dark Knight.
“I have. I took his son and his wife. My men have made his life very unpleasant as far as his dealings and the Sinful Cellar goes, but now that Brutus and Aaron are out of comission, I expect you to keep up in their stead.”
“You know I will.” Thursday said resolutely. She clenched her fists beneath the water, the mere thought of Daisy being harmed because of her turning her stomach inside out.
“Well, then this old man is going to retire for the night.” Melo said, standing with a grunt. He headed for the door but stopped before opening it. “There is another bout tomorrow night, but beforehand I would like you and yours to join Aaron and I for dinner.”
“Sounds nice. We’ll stop in then.”
He took his leave and Thursday let herself sink beneath the water once again, staring at the wavy moon as it judged her from above.
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