Chapter One
Cigarette smoke hung in the air like a cancerous fog. The stink of old sweat and stale ale thickened the already stagnant air. The old pub was scattered with its usual mix of degenerates and lowlifes. Farmers, blacksmiths, and masons with a penchant for too much drink mingled with thieves, bandits, and bounty hunters with a predilection for mayhem, each drowning in alcohol to forget the fact that their country was on the brink of war. With whom, no one knew, and their people starved from too few harvests. The fact that the nobles did nothing but satisfy their own desires while their people died also added to the forlorn and empty looks on their weathered faces.
Red sat in the darkened corner and breathed it all in. The rotting country was not of her concern. She loved nothing more than the stench of Harry’s Pub.
This was her home. She traveled more than not, never sleeping in the same place for long. But when she was in the wooded village, she always came back here.
Mary, the portly waitress, set another glass of vodka on Red’s table. She cleared away the empties and collected her money without a word. She carried on without a glance at Red, knowing the girl’s drinking habits well enough to leave her alone.
Red picked up the short glass and slammed back the drink, setting the empty back on the table.
“Another," her voice low and gravelly, barely audible above the murmur of the other patrons.
This time, Mary did look down. Red’s eyes were half closed and she leaned slightly to the left. Her short-cropped scarlet hair stuck up in places where she had been running her hands absently through it.
“I think you’ve had enough.”
Red raised her head and stared back at the woman, her sea-green eyes penetrating deep into her soul, and someplace even more private.
“I didn’t ask for your opinion. I told you to bring me another f**king drink.”
She tore her gaze away from Red’s unwavering stare. The girl never backed down. Mary should have learned that by now. She set the other empty on her tray and waddled back to the bar to fill it without another word.
* * *
Red slid a cigarette into her mouth and lit it. Stupid cow, she thought. The old broad should learn to mind her business. She definitely did not need a caretaker.
Not now, after surviving on her own for the last seven years. She didn’t need anybody.
She glanced back to the bar. She really needed that drink. She noticed a young man with light, tussled hair sitting on a stool at the bar. He was staring at her, and lifted his glass in salute.
Red looked away. She’d seen him around before.
He was always looking at her, watching her. His name was Jack. That was all she knew, or cared to know. She was not looking for companions or friends.
A shadow passed over her. A short glass of vodka was set by her hand. She looked up and found Jack staring down at her, a smile spreading across his boyish face.
“You looked thirsty.”
Without acknowledgment, Red picked up the glass and took a sip. She looked away from his eager face.
“Can I join you?”
Red blew smoke in his direction. Coughing, he sat down across from her.
“My name’s Jack.” He stuck out his hand. Red looked at it like it was encrusted with shit. He dropped his hand and laughed nervously.
“I guess you’re not much of a talker. I heard that about you.”
Red pounded back the rest of her drink. She slid her hand across the table and took Jack’s glass. She pounded that back too. She set the empty down sharply beside his hand staring blankly into his soft blue eyes.
He laughed again. “I could get us more drinks.”
“What do you want?”
“I just wanted to meet you.”
“Why?”
“Because you’re famous.”
“Infamous, you mean.” She rubbed her thumb absently over the thin pink scar that marred half her face. It ran from her left eyebrow down over her cheek to her chin. A souvenir from the past. It was a painful reminder of her failure.
“Same thing. You’re a legend.”
“Look, boy, are you here to blow smoke up my ass, or are you asking me something?”
“What do you mean?”
“Well, you seem to know something about me, so you obviously know what I do for money.” She slid a long knife out of the sheath strapped to her leg. She set it on the table. It glinted menacingly in the soft light. “Do you want me to kill someone for you?”
“Goodness, no.” Jack sat back in his chair; his eyes round with shock.
“Then f**k off. I’m in no mood to pu**yfoot around with some snot-nosed brat looking for a thrill.”
“You have me all wrong.” He put his hand up in defense.
“Do I?” She leaned forward, grinning.
The pub door slammed open. A cold wind blew across the room. Three large men stumbled in disheveled and dirty.
Red grabbed her knife and sat back in her chair bringing the knife down under the table. She looked over at the men as they lumbered up to the bar. She had better be prepared. The Pig brothers were always looking for trouble.
“Barkeep. Three pints.” Joe Pig slammed his beefy hand down on the counter. His brothers John and Jimmy took up stools next to him.
Red turned herself in her chair so she was facing the bar. She learned a long time ago never to leave her back open. Lessons learned the hard way.
Jack glanced over at the boys. “Who are they?”
“The Pig brothers.”
“Why do they look like that?”
“They’re albinos. Triplets.”
Joe glanced around the bar. His small pink eyes rested on Red. He smiled, his pointy little teeth brown from rot. “Well, looky here, boys. It’s Red, the fearless bounty hunter.”
They all turned to face her, smiling the same hungry grin.
Other patrons moved to the far corners with their drinks. They could sense trouble, but didn’t want to leave just yet. They didn’t want to miss the action. A good pub brawl was just the form of entertainment they were all hoping for, and the reason they came out night after night after night.
Red slid another cigarette out of her pack and put it in her mouth, struck a match and lit it. She blew the smoke up lazily, never taking her eyes off the brothers.
The barkeep set their beer in front of them, then retreated into a corner. Joe picked up his glass and chugged half it back. Beer dribbled down his dimpled double chin and stained his already grimy shirt. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand.
“Why, we were just thinking about you, Red, weren’t we, boys?”
“Oh, yeah,” John said, his eyes alight with lust. He rubbed a chubby hand over his crotch.
Joe picked up his beer and wandered closer to where Red sat. “We were thinking, what will Red do when The Wolf comes back to town?”
Red flinched and clenched her jaw. She flicked her cigarette butt toward Joe. It bounced off his chest and landed at his feet. He grinned evilly as he crushed it under his filth-encrusted boot.
“Ah, I see that the cold-hearted bitch does have some feelings after all.”
Jack jumped up from his chair, pointing his finger at Joe. “Watch what you say about her!”
Joe laughed. “I’d put a leash on your boy-toy, Red.
He’s bound to get hurt.”
“Do not threaten me, sir. I will have you arrested,”
Jack said, his voice cracking.
Everyone in the bar burst out laughing.
“Sit down,” Red demanded through clenched teeth.
Jack looked around at the laughing crowd. He huffed, then sat down obediently in his chair.
Joe chugged back the rest of his beer. He tossed the glass to Jack, who caught it clumsily fumbled it and dropped it. It shattered into pieces on the floor.
“That’s quite the watchdog you got there, girl. I wonder if he’ll protect you when The Wolf comes a-hunting. I hear he’s coming back to tie up some loose ends. And you, my dear, are a very loose end.”
John and Jimmy got off their stools and stood on either side of Joe. They were all smiling maliciously.
“So what, the three little Pigs are his warm up act?
You come to deliver a stern warning? Surely I’m more of a threat than that.”
Joe clenched his fists. “You talk tough, bitch. But you won’t be talking shit when we hand-deliver you to the big bad Wolf.”
“I hear he’s got something special for you. Maybe he’ll finish where he left off with that ugly mug of yours,” John said, eagerly bouncing from foot to foot.
“Tell you what,” she said sniffing the air, “Why don’t you crawl back into the shit pile you crawled out of, and I might let you live.”
“I don’t think so.” Joe spat mucus onto the floor.
“Your funeral.”
“We’ll see,” Joe stammered as he rushed forward.
Red pushed back in her chair. She slid backwards and kicked the table forward. The table flew ahead and hit Joe in the stomach. She twirled her knife around in her hand and flung it through the air.
It landed squarely into John’s forehead, killing him instantly. He fell backward, eyes still wide in shock, and landed with a thud onto the floor.
Joe and Jimmy looked back briefly to see their brother dead. “I’ll kill you, bitch!” Joe grunted as he launched toward Red. Jimmy was right behind him.
Red sprung up from the chair. She jumped high into the air and spun her leg around. She caught Joe sharply in the jaw. He stumbled back from the blow.
Jimmy dodged out of the way from his stumbling brother. He swung his arm, and landed a wild punch into Red’s face. Her lips split open. Ducking his next punch, she came up and landed her own blow to his soft belly.
Jimmy grunted and doubled over. She grabbed the back of his head and pushed him down as her knee came up right into his face. She heard his nose break.
It had a distinctive crunching sound. He fell over, clutching his crushed nose, blood seeping through his chunky fingers.
Joe grabbed her around the neck. His beefy hand squeezed hard on her throat. He quickly backed her up into the wall. She punched at his thick head. But every blow seemed weak against the strength of his brutal hand at her throat.