Series of Death, Draft 02, CH 29 (Patreon)

Afternoon gave way to evening.

The temperature dropped, and Marlot put his hand in his pockets, ignoring his fogging breath. Maybe the temperature would drop low enough it would put him out of his misery, although it was early for anything to freeze over. Freezing to death would be better than the pain of having his heart ripped out. Trembor had made no sense; except for that.

He felt eyes on him and tried to make himself as inviting as he could; so down on his luck, even the homeless could afford him. If he couldn’t freeze the pain away, maybe someone could eat it out of him.

His pad buzzed again.

Marlot kept on walking.

* * * * *

Marlot sat on the steps leading up to the building’s entrance. People came and went, even at this late house. By the scents they brought out; humid shampoo scented air, sweat, and blood. There was a gym inside. They ignored him; him and his half-empty bottle of alcohol.

He hadn’t wanted the noise of a bar; he’d have gone to the Watering Hole, if he’d know where it was from here, or cared to take his pad out and look up the address, but the eight missed called from the unknown number would glare at him. Accuse him of letting the hunter go. So he’d stopped at the corner store, bought the bottle, sat down, and drank.

The alcohol warmed him and attempted to numb the pain. It couldn’t do that; the pain was infinite, while there was only so much alcohol in the bottle.

The pad buzzed again. By reflex, he pulled it out, looked at the display; unknown number. It wasn’t unknown. It was the hunter calling him. Wanting to gloat at getting away. Marlot told himself at least Trembor had lived. It should be enough, except the lion had repaid him by shattering his heart.

He shouldn’t answer it. Let it go to his message center. Force the hunter to leave one if he wanted to say something so badly. It was his fault Marlot had no reasons to live anymore. The hare had forced him and Trembor together. He’d taken away whatever time Marlot had needed to figure out what was wrong. If he’d had time, he could have fixed this. He should let the hare stew.

“What do you want?” he yelled in the pad. Scream would feel better.

“What are you doing ignoring me!” the hunter yelled back. “How the fuck could you screw that up?”

“I? I screw that up?” Marlot stood. “I’m not the one who kidnapped him! I’m not the one who could bare his throat and let me finish him like you fucking claim you want me to!”

“I had you almost there! Your lion is the one who stopped you. And then you had to go and argue with him!”

“Don’t you fucking bring Trembor into this! He had nothing to do with it. You cause this. You want to be meat so fucking bad, come here and let me do it.”

“No. I don’t think you—”

“Oh, you don’t think I’m motivated enough?” Marlot looked around and almost tripped down the stairs. He straightened and found a reference point. “I’m at the Wolbore Community Center. Come here and test if I’m pissed enough to rip your throat out. I want this done with as badly as you right now.”

“You can barely stand straight,” the hare replied with a scoff. “You’ll probably break your neck before I reach you.”

“Where are you?” Marlot demanded, looking around, searching for the hunter.

“Why did you have to fight with him? I gave you the perfect opportunity to reconcile. You saved him, for fuck’s sake!”

“And do you know how he responded to that?” Marlot yelled. The people on the sidewalk gave him ample space. “He accused me of being behind all of it! He said I was sick! That he wasn’t my possession! Like I ever treated him like that! He’d the most important person in my life and because of you, now I’ll never be able to fix this!”

“Talk to him,” the hare said.

Marlot tried to form words. Was the hare serious? “Talk to him?” he asked in disbelief. He considered drinking from the bottle but decided the hare already made little sense, muddling his mind even more wouldn’t help.

“That’s how mates resolve their problems. You two keep avoiding each other.”

“What is your problem?” Marlot demanded. “You kill people. You want me to kill you. Why do you care what me and Trembor are going through?”

“You have to fix this!” the hare yelled. “You two are the only one I’ve met who want to—” The hare fell silent.

“What to what?” Marlot asked. The hare was crazy. Of course, he was, he was a hunter. But he was crazier than the others. “And for your information, since it sounds like you didn’t hang around to listen to the result of your oh so amazing help. I tried to talk with him. And do you know how he responded? He said that if he ever saw me again, he was going to turn me into meat.”

“No.” The word sounded panicked. “He won’t do that.”

Marlot laughed. “Oh, and you’re such an expert on us. You spy for a while, fight me, you probably fought him too, and suddenly you know all you have to so you can control our lives?”

“I don’t know that! That the point!” The hare made even less sense than Trembor.

Marlot stopped, noticing motion in the shadows of an alley on the other side of the road. Someone pacing agitatedly. Was that the hare?

“You know what,” Marlot said, forcing his voice to be steady. “I’m done with this. I’m going him and in the morning I’m telling the enforcers about you.”

The person in the shadow froze. “Don’t.” The threat was tinged with panic still. Marlot couldn’t understand why the hunter was afraid of more people being involved. “All you’re going to do is get more people killed.”

“So? I’m not the one who’s going to have to pay for them.” Marlot checked for the closest intersection. He’d have to walk past that alley to reach one, or away, and lose sight of the hunter to reach the other. Could he run across the road? There was little traffic, but all it took was one honking car and the hunter would know what he was doing.

“But you don’t want that meat to go to waste, do you?” the hare sounded like he was back in control of himself again. He didn’t have much time.

“It’s not like that’s going to affect me personally.” He prepared himself to run across the road.

“What if I go after the lion again?”

Marlot spring faltered before he was off the sidewalk; his rage slamming into the pain of his broken heart. His vision blurred as he tried to form words. “What’s the point?” he asked, looking in the alley’s direction. “So I kill you because you killed him and I’m alone. I save him and he accuses me of treating him like my possession.” He wiped at his eyes, he couldn’t lose sight of the hunter. “We were supposed to be together. I was going to fix this, but I wasn’t ready! I hadn’t figured out why Trem acted the way he did.” He searched the alley’s shadows from where he was. Wiping his eyes again. “It’s your fault,” he said weakly. In the silence, he finally saw again, and there was no one in the shadows anymore.

“You don’t know,” the hare whispered.

“That’s what I said,” Marlot growled. He ran across the street, not caring about the honking car. The hunter already knew he’d been spotted. Why else move deeper in the alley?

“I can still fix this.”

Marlot almost tripped. “What?” why couldn’t the hare make sense? He pushed the question away. “Just stop and let me end this.”

The hunter chuckled. “No, not yet. I still have something to do before I can give you another chance to kill me. I thought you knew. Mates are supposed to tell each other everything. I really thought you knew.”

“Knew what?” Marlot demanded as he entered the alley. A few feet and he was in complete darkness. “Knew what!” he yelled, and his voice came from further ahead. His eyes adjusted enough he could make out the alley was long. “Are you running, you coward?” again, his voice came from the darkness and he located the pad on the ground, face down.

When he turned it over, there was an unsent text on it to his number. I will fix this. Wait for my signal.

Marlot looked into the alley, tried to make out any motion, and form that didn’t belong. “Get back here!” he yelled. “Get back here and let me end you!”

With a growl, he shut down the hunter’s pad and pocketed it. “Coward,” he whispered and left the alley to find his car and go home.

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