Chaos Lives in Everything - 3. Chapter 3

Skold peeked through the blinds. The orc was sitting handcuffed to the chair. His filthy, greasy black hair hung before his great hooked nose, where nasty, puss-filled boils had formed, the fat, white head so old that they had a yellowish tint to them. His skin was the color of dark mold and his eyes were the color of blood. The orc caught Skold watching him and grinned, showing his rotting, sharp, triangular teeth. He raised his fist and gave him the finger.

He turned towards Reynolds. “I take it the orc mafia is getting worse.”

“Everyday.”

Roc City was known for its plethora of clubs and high crime rates. It was how the Orc Mafia who made their profits dealing drugs to both humans and fae alike. Though the Roc City Police Department did their best to bring the orc mafia down the orcs were ruthless thanks to their leader, Bajork. Sixty-five percent of the crime that took place throughout the city was due to them.

Reynolds’ desk was a mess of warrants and MISSING ads. “We ended up have to do a raid earlier today. We think he might be able to get a hold of Bajork finally, but then we’ve been saying that for weeks and we’ve spent hours with him in the interrogation room and he won’t fuckin’ talk. Months. They’re getting more and more pushy. Robbing banks and convenient stores, selling drugs, terrorism, stealing children right from their homes and turning them into sex slave. Today has just been a fucking mess. It doesn’t help that you made a crater in the middle of the city. I told you to kill the troll not cause any more damage than what was already done.” Reynold winced inwardly. It was not a good idea to yell at Skold, not if he wanted to keep his life.

Skold gave him his crooked half grin. “I did what you told me to do: kill the troll. You didn’t tell me how. If the beast had gotten to the surface there would have been a lot more deaths. You know that.” He folded his arms and added, “Not that it makes any difference to me.”

“Well it’s a damned miracle that it didn’t get aboveground. That could have been bad.” Reynolds bit at a fingernail, something he did only when he was nervous, which being alone in his office with Skold was apt to do.

“Trolls haven’t been sighted near cities in thousands of years, since the Paladin Wars ended. I can’t think of any reason why one would come to Roc City of all places. And it had to come from underground or else we would have known of its presence much sooner.”

“Then it should be looked into. Immediately. We can’t leave anything to chance. I have another job for you.”

“Someone else that you need me to kill?”

Reynolds did not miss the hopeful sound in Skold’s voice. “No, it’s a different kind of assignment. You have contacts and more leverage in the fae world than I do. Ask around the city, see if they’ve heard anything. That’s all.”

“I’m a bounty hunter not a private investigator.”

“It’s an easy job.”

“I loathe easy jobs. The more difficult it is the better.”

“I’ll pay you well.”

Skold laughed at Reynolds mockingly. “You think I’m a bounty hunter for the money? You insult me with your idiotic assumptions, human. I have more money than you could obtain in a thousand of your lifetimes. Money is irrelevant to me. I’m a bounty hunter because I love to kill. Seeing the life seep out of someone’s eyes, tasting their blood on my tongue gives me an almost orgasmic pleasure. It’s almost better than sex. It’s what I’m good at. It’s what I was born to do.” His head bowed down for a moment of consideration; his face was hidden by a long of silver hair. When he looked up he said, “I’ll look into it when I have time to do so. But my bounty hunting comes first, understand?”

Reynolds nodded, knowing that it was best not to disagree.

On his way out of the building Skold hovered over the orc who was still handcuffed to the chair. He said nothing as he grabbed the orcs head with both hands. The sharp sound of bone snapping was audible as Skold twisted the orc’s head so that it was facing the other direction.

The rain and thunder had not yet subsided. People were hurrying to get to their cars, umbrellas doing little to protect them from the fat droplets of water. Skold headed for the alley where his mustang was parked. Beads of water dripped from his hair and plopped down on the shoulders of his glistening trench coat. He could hear sirens wailing through the night and the honking of horns. The city had awoken as if it had never been asleep.

Skold reached his car. He was about to insert the key into the lock when the sudden feeling of being followed crept over him. Just as a figure rounded the corner, whistling, Skold leapt into the shadows, back pressed against the wall. Midway the figure stopped in his tracks, silent.

Skold stood stalk still, watching.

The elf was extremely tall, his shoulders and chest broad with a thick bulky build that could only be pure muscle; the lower half of his face was covered with a shaggy beard that ended at the edge of his neck. Gold and beads had been woven into the beard. The hair on both sides of his head had been shaved off; the top was long and tied into a short ponytail. The sharp tips of his ears were pierced with silver hoops. He wore a long sleeve cream colored shirt, the sleeves rolled up to show his thick, muscled forearms and leather pants. His eyes were a bright pumpkin orange and glowed faintly in the dark.

He turned his head, looked directly into Skold’s eyes.

“There you are,” he said in a voice that was so deep that it sounded like gravel grinding together.

Skold let out a deep, throaty snarl that almost sounded like a yowl and leapt out of the shadows. The elf tried to back out of the way but Skold was quicker. He clamped a hand around his throat and slammed him up against the wall, pressing the sharp tip his dagger to the elf’s throat. Even though the elf was much taller than Skold and outweighed him he made no move to resist or fight back.

“Who are you?” he demanded. “Why are you following me around?”

“Why don’t you ease up on the knife a little and then I’ll answer some questions,” the elf said.

“How about not.” Skold put pressure on the blade. Another millionth of centimeter and he would draw blood.

“I mean you no harm.” The elf held up his hands in surrender, palms turned upward. “I swear.” His voice was calm. Assuring. “My name is Dominyc. Please, Skold. Put down the knife.”

“So you know who I am?”

“Everyone know who you are. Commander of Yaldon’s army, ender of the Paladin Wars, criminal exile, bounty hunter. Your reputation is notorious.”

“Then you also know that I’m a cold-blooded killer who likes to kill for pleasure. I have no conscience, no remorse.” Skold could already feel the temptation. The temptation to slide the blade across the elf’s throat and watch the blood pour out over his hand, warm and sweet; to watch the life force that made the elf’s eyes glow extinguish itself like the flame of a candle.

“Sorry,” Dominyc apologized, rubbing at his throat with a massive hand. “I guess next time I should just find you in the phone book. You are in the phone book right?”

Skold frowned at what was clearly meant to be friendly banter. “What do you want?”

“To tell you that the troll is just the beginning of something much bigger. A war is brewing and it's just on the horizon. Chaos is rising and when it does it will reign over everything.”

“How do you know this?” Skold demanded.

“It matters not. What matters is that you stop it. You saw what Paladin’s war did to this world. The human race was on the brink of extinction, the black plague killing everything. This war will be worse.”

“If what you say is true what makes you think that I would want to stop it? What makes you think that I would care?”

Dom started to walk towards the mouth of the alley. Before he disappeared around the corner he said, “Then we are all doomed.”

When Reynolds came home at six o’clock in the morning Anne was still asleep, dressed in her light pink nightgown that Reynolds had gotten her one very-snowy Christmas. Anne wore it every night. Reynolds was too tired to change out of his uniform. He crawled into bed and settled next to her.

He could smell the shampoo and conditioner in Anne’s hair. It was Suave’s Ocean Breeze. It was the smell of home, the smell of love. Anne sudden rolled over and smiled at Reynolds, a sweet, sleepy smile. “Hey, babe. When did you get home?”

He yawned. “Just now.”

“You must be tired.”

“I’m very tired. But I don’t know if I’ll be able to sleep.”

“That bad, huh?”

“Yeah. That bad.”

“C’mon. I’ll fix you some tea and honey.”

Reynolds groaned in protest.

Anne climbed out from underneath of the sheets and stood up. Her blonde hair glowed in the pale light seeping through the window. Outside Reynolds could hear the annoying yet familiar buzz of the street lamp outside. “On your feet soldier,” Anne teased. She ran a hand slowly down the length of Reynolds’ thigh. This coaxed Reynolds to get out of bed. He followed Anne into the kitchen.

They lived in a tiny cramped little duplex on Talbott Street. They lived right next to the train tracks and had entire cabinet full of bug spray and balms. For Anne it was a full time job just to keep the roaches down. It was in a bad neighborhood but in spite of this they loved living there. They’d moved into this house right after their honeymoon; their children had grown up in this house and when they’d grown up they left this house.

They sat at the kitchen table, drinking warm milk and honey together. The sky had gone from velvety black to navy blue, the first sign that night was starting to turn into day.

“You want to talk about it?” Anne asked.

“There was a troll attack in the city.”

She immediately looked shocked. “A troll, here, in the city?”

He nodded. “It was in one of the subway tunnels. All of the people inside...they were slaughtered. We’re lucky to have survived. I lost three of my team members. I would say that’s a blessing.”

“How...how did you kill it?”

“Skold,” was all he said. It was all he had to say. Though Anne had never met the elf that Reynolds so often consulted she had listened to her husband talk about him much for the last year and a half. The stories he’d told her were always grotesque. And whenever he spoke of him there was always a sliver of fear in his voice. Anne didn’t like it. Reynolds was not easy to scare and was good at keeping his vulnerabilities guarded. It was only within their twenty years of marriage that Anne knew how to find it, and even then doing so could be a difficult task.

She reached across the table and squeezed his hand. “Well let’s climb back into bed. You’ll feel better once you get some sleep. And when we get up I’ll fix you a big, big meal.”

Reynolds smiled at her gratefully. Together they went back to bed.