Nocturnal

An Offer Aggie Can’t Refuse

Hands shook Aggie James awake.

He was old, recovering from addiction, hadn’t slept worth a crap in days, but there was no grogginess, no confusion.

He knew exactly where he was.

He knew what the hands meant.

The masked men had come for him.

Aggie jerked upright, his threadbare blanket flying away, his hands waving about in total panic without direction or purpose. He started to scream, but only managed to take in a big breath before a hand smacked him in the face, smacked him hard, snapping his head back as he fell to his ass. The room spun. His face stung like someone had pressed a hot iron against it. He blinked a few times, feet automatically pushing him away, sliding his butt across the floor until his back hit the white wall.

A flash of pink fabric with white spots, a hand clamping on the back of his head, another across his mouth. He smelled household cleaners and faded smoke. In an instant, he registered her raw power — her hands were steel skeletons covered with warm flesh, hands that could snap his neck with no effort at all.

Aggie stopped struggling. He stared at the old woman who held his head tight.

“You be quiet,” Hillary whispered. A pink scarf with the white polka dots covered her thin gray hair. The scarf’s tied ends dangled below her chin. So many wrinkles on that face. Aggie thought about striking out, but she held him so hard he couldn’t move his head, couldn’t even open his mouth.

“You be quiet. I can kill you, easy-peasy, you understand?”

“Mm-mm,” Aggie said.

“Good,” she said. “Tomorrow night, we come for the Chinaman.”

She turned his head so he could see the Chinaman, who was sound asleep.

“I let you go now,” she said. “You make any trouble for me, they will take you instead. Understand?”

“Mm-mmm,” Aggie said.

She let go of his head, but her face stayed close to his. “After the ouvriers come for the Chinaman, I will come for you. I will show you what happens if you do not do what I ask.”

Aggie shivered, both in fear and in hope. “You mean … you mean maybe I don’t die?”

Hillary nodded. “Maybe. If you do what I say.”

Aggie nodded violently. “Anything,” he whispered. “Anything you want. What do I gotta do?”

She stood and stared down at him. “You help save the life of a king,” she said. “You do this, maybe you live.”

She walked away. Aggie couldn’t stop shivering. He’d resigned himself to a brutal end where those freakish masked men dragged him out of the cell. But now, her words allowed a sliver of hope to pierce his soul. He gently fingered his jaw. It was already swelling.

Maybe he could get out of this insane dungeon.

Maybe … maybe he could live.

All he had to do was help save a king.