Reena was still staring fiercely at the band of Warriors that had swarmed into the Tavern. Why the hell had they picked Marcus' tavern to descend upon? His was one of the meanest. The whores were few, and old and tired, a year or two at the most from being tossed out on the streets. The dancers were awkward and unlovely. Ciara was the single exception. The only reason she danced there was because Markus did not demand that she sell her body as well as dance. He was an idiot, but he understood that the young flame haired beauty drew customers. He'd have liked her to whore as well. Reena was the only reason he didn't whine longer and harder.
And because he was a coward who loved his pathetic life, his tavern was basically the single one that actually kept brawls and brutality against the dancers and the whores down to almost non existent.
But his ale was pure swill, and he couldn't even get the pigs he owned to eat the remains of the food he served the unknowing.
His tavern was a dark, smoky, stinking shit hole. So why the hell had this band of Warriors chosen to stop here? It was obvious they had been off warmongering for which ever little lord they'd sworn casual fealty to. She could smell the blood and the stink of old adrenaline, long since discharged with sword and arrow and simple brute force. She knew this group of some dozen had been long away from any town, how ever small and rude. She could smell it and see it and sense it. It coated her body with thrumming, nervous energy. It tried to choke her, sliding insidious and deadly into her nose and down her throat.
All she could think was, maybe it's just that this is the first tavern they crossed. If they had come from the north, Markus' tavern WAS the first. Perhaps all they wanted was to gulp down a few tankards of strong ale, regain a little humanity, before they moved on to a better place.
If that was the case, then she and Ciara simply needed to sit quiet. And if Markus called for Ciara dance, he would be the very first one that Reena would give to her darkness! If he called attention to Ciara!
"We have to get out of here!" Reena hissed softly to her trembling friend. "Before Markus regains consciousness! He'll call for you to dance! You know he will."
"Reena I can't leave!" Ciara whimpered softly. "He'll put me out on the streets if I do, especially tonight, with this band of Warriors leaving him pissing terrified. Any other tavern...I won't whore Reena. I won't! I can't leave!"
Reena wanted to scream. She wanted to let the darkness take her; give her the strength to fling the heavy oak table they sat at whirling and flipping, a diversion to distract while she darted and dashed and ripped and rent, dancing her body between and around the bodies that would bleed and tear and fall dead. She didn't need her knife. When the darkness came together they melded into a weapon that could not be stopped. Kill them! Kill them all. Every one, any one. Take them all! Then grab Ciara, and run away...
Run away? To what? Run away where? If she did this thing, even if she killed every living creature, the town would know. They would know she had done it. And then where would they go?
Suddenly she wanted to cry. But she hadn't cried since the day she'd found her mother's brutalized, dead body smoldering in cinders.
"Ciara..."
"Maybe he'll stay fainted. I'm off in two hours, maybe..."
"Ciara!"
It was Markus, conscious again.
Innocent wide blue eyes met wildly glittering green-gold feral eyes, and Ciara voiced what Geneve had never dared. "Don't kill them. It will be all right. Just sit here and be quiet. It will be ok. Markus won't let..."
Reena snarled, deep and savage, her throat hurting with the unaccustomed sound.
