Midnight Monster Club: Fallen Rogues, #1

Chapter One

Monsters Wanted!

Ogres, fel, and goblins welcome for poker game. Tonight only.

Dragon and Rose gastropub.

Ask for Monty.

DIGGER STARED AT THE crumpled bill in his hand in disbelief. The torn brown page had been posted on the market board between notices of workers needed and goods for sale. He squinted as he reread it.

What was Monty thinking? He stifled a curse. His brother was going to get himself killed.

He grabbed his two-wheeled cart and pushed it across the gravel lot as fast as he could. The wheels crunched as he maneuvered it towards the wide avenue that would take him from the slums to the Temperance District.

A card game? Really?

The more he thought about it, the angrier he became.

He and Monty had been safe for so long. What was Monty doing sticking his head up now?

He wasn’t thinking, that was certain, Digger decided. Not thinking had gotten them into trouble in the first place and had cost them everything.

The shovel in the cart bounced and rattled beneath the white tarp. The street transitioned to gray cobblestone damp with moisture from the thick fog that clung to the upper levels of the tenements.

Diregloom. The city lived up to its nickname, from its rooftops down to its sewers. On which level did its soul reside? All of them. None of them. The onetime haven was now a prison for his kind.

Voices up ahead. The five guards weren’t quiet as they headed towards him. They held lanterns and their faces were concealed by scarves or bandanas worn around their mouths. Their metal helmets and brooches for their cloaks shone orange in the light.

The first guard, a short man, raised a hand. Halt. Where are you going with the cart? At this hour?

A second guard who had his black bandana pulled down to his neck leaned in close. Hey, you’re no pureblood. He’s fel.

Another man of the watch was coughing and he spat before peering at Digger. You’re right. Jawline. Brow. Show us your teeth.

Digger sighed and opened his mouth.

Are you sure? the short guard asked.

The coughing guard circled Digger once before holding his lantern up. Look at those lower teeth. And then the orange cast to eyes like a cat. Dead giveaway. See the hint of green on the skin? Hard to notice in this light. But it looks like we have a fel out after curfew.

The guard with the black bandana prodded him in the chest. It’s after second watch. Care to explain yourself?

Careful, the short guard said with a snicker. You’re going to make him mad.

Digger stood dead still. I’m on a job.

The short guard slugged him in the gut. The blow wasn’t unexpected. He had been through the routine more times than he could count. He doubled over and groaned.

You know how to address your betters.

"I’m on a job, sir. Body down at the Thirsty Seven Club. On Prudence Street. A notice was served to the graveyard."

Grunting, the guard threw back the tarp. Grave duty?

"That’s what the cart’s for. Sir."

The others chuckled.

The guard slapped him. Digger took the blow and met the guard’s eyes for a moment before bowing his head. The guard wiped his gloved hand on the tarp before straightening his cloak.

Mouthy wretch. Off with you. Next time identify yourself.

Digger kept his head low for a moment before rising. He pushed the cart away. The Dragon and Rose wasn’t far from the Thirsty Seven. But the guards might follow. And having a body in his cart was an excellent way to avoid further harassment.

DIGGER CARRIED THE bundled corpse down the back stairway. The scrawny young man couldn’t weigh more than a hundred pounds. Even with the heavy makeup, Digger could see the signs of hunger, drugs, and abuse.

A sharp-eyed crone watched him as he shuffled past with his burden. She followed him to his cart. A few other women were peering out the windows but turned their heads when he looked up at them.

The crone gave him a tencoin and made no comment as he covered the body with the tarp. What else was there to say? Another unknown body for the pauper’s grave. If anyone would mourn, it would be in private. Few visited the place where Digger would take him. The poor soul was now invisible.

For the next few hours they would be invisible together.

The crone disappeared up the back steps. A distant bell tolled twelve.

He turned his cart and started to hurry. The job had taken too long. The Dragon and Rose was twenty minutes away if he hurried.

He had a card game to shut down.

Chapter Two

THE TAVERN SIGN DISPLAYED a dragon sniffing a rose. The two-story establishment was sandwiched between the burned skeleton of a house and a boarded-up bakery. The nearest streetlight either wasn’t lit or was broken. A piece of wood had been hammered beside the entryway which read CLOSED FOR REMODELING.

Digger threw open the door.

A long wooden bar dominated the room, upon which was spread an assortment of food with rich aromas of spices, garlic, and bacon. A scrawny greenskin fel wearing a vest and cravat was picking stuffed olives off a plate and popping them into his mouth. Two others sat at a table with cards and chips in a carousel case. They held glasses of wine and had their own plates loaded with appetizers.

The vested man stuffing his face barely looked up as Digger approached.

Digger thrust his face down at him. Place is closed. Get out.

What are you talking about? he asked through a full mouth.

Digger grabbed him by the coat and hauled him to the front door. The man was shouting indignities as Digger turned to face the other two.

Both of you. Leave!

They stared with mouths agape for a moment. When Digger took a step towards them, they both hurried out of their seats and ran past him.

Digger followed them to the door. Diregloom guards are out in force. It’s after second watch, so be careful.

The three stood outside, bewildered, before fleeing in different directions.

He let the door close behind him and walked along the bar. He was taken in by the colorful platters and the meticulous offerings on each. Clams wrapped in bacon with a cocktail sauce. Cucumber hummus canapés. Tiny quiches. Stuffed peppers. Sprigs of herbs and carved citrus rinds acted as garnish on all the plates.

While he hadn’t eaten since his breakfast of cold day-old soup, the sight made his stomach uneasy. The last time he had seen food like this was at their parents’ bistro before it had been closed by order of the duke. Both parents were now gone. And after what had happened, he and his brother were supposed to be in hiding.

A fel of slight build wearing a lavender frilled shirt with pinned-up sleeves emerged from the swinging door to the back, carrying a tray of brie tartines. The crusted cheese resting on slabs of bread let off a whiff of steam. He set the tray down on the edge of the bar, pausing to push the other dishes to make room. He then spent a moment turning each platter until he appeared satisfied with the arrangement.

Monty.

Digger’s brother looked up at him and then at the table with the missing card players.

Digger? What are you doing here? Where is everyone?

I sent them home. Your game night is over. What are you even thinking, posting signs and inviting people here?

I was planning on having some fun and making friends.

You’d risk your life for a card game?

I made food.

Digger let out a sigh. That’s what’s going to get you in trouble. How many fel chefs are out there preparing palmiers and endive cups?

Monty deflated. The good ones were when there were more of us.

Don’t mumble. I hate that. If word gets out that you’re still in the city...

I know. Monty flopped down on a chair and spread the stack of cards around. But the same goes for you. Why haven’t I seen you in so long?

Because I’ve been busy.

Doing what? So busy you can’t visit to let me know you’re alive? I kept expecting to see you at the gallows on any given Saturday getting a noose around your head.

I’m there every weekend. I just don’t show up on time. I thought you just cleaned up here after the bar closed. What’s going on?

The Dragon and Rose is out of business. Lady Sofia’s starting to remodel and doesn’t care what happens after hours. What do you think of the place?

He hadn’t taken the time to notice that while the walls were partially bare of paneling, the bar itself was new. A massive stained oak slab shone from a fine finish, as did the corner scrollwork. A brass foot bar ran along the bottom. The liquor shelves above the back of the bar had also been redone. The tables and furniture, which had once been nothing but benches and a few long tables of splintering wood, were now worthy of any of the new places Diregloom’s pureblood tourists might patronize. A brass chandelier with a score of burning candles illuminated the bar.

Digger let out a frustrated sigh. I think you advertising a card game and getting our people hurt is a bad plan.

The front door smashed open.

Digger turned. We’re closed. Game’s off. Get out of here.

A woman with pale-green skin and wearing a dark blue cloak raced inside and vaulted the bar. Several plates spilled and shattered. She ducked down, her eyes wild with fear. She held a cloth package under an arm.

You’ve got to hide me!

Monty rushed behind the bar. What are you doing?

You have a cellar? She was yanking on a trapdoor with her one free arm but it wasn’t budging.

Stop it. It doesn’t work like that. And you can’t go down there.

There’s people after me. I can’t let them catch me.

Then go out the back.

Digger moved to bar or lock the front door, as a stiff breeze from outside was holding it open. As he reached for it, the door swung wide.

A man wearing leathers and a rapier on his hip stepped into the doorway. Not a soldier, Digger decided, but a mercenary or tourist pretending to be one. He gave Digger only brief consideration before pushing past him.

We’re closed, Monty said weakly.

Where is she?

The woman behind the counter didn’t make a sound.

Monty bowed his head as he approached the man. No girl in here, master.

The man backhanded Monty. Monty fell and held up his hands to ward off further punishment.

She’s here. I can smell her perfume. Felkind lying? Your lives are forfeit if you don’t tell me where she is. Now!

Digger went to the open door and scanned the street. There was no one else there. Only his cart waited.

He cleared his throat to get the man’s attention. Back entrance, master. He moved towards the door to the storeroom and held out an inviting arm.

The man strode towards him, his eyes narrowing.

What did this woman do? Digger asked.

Not your concern, but she’s a thief.

The back room had just enough light to reveal a few boxes of a food delivery along with a half-dozen wooden kegs of beer. Otherwise the shelves were mostly bare. The rear door had a steel bar across it and several latches.

The man stopped as he studied the door. Is someone else here?

Just us.

I was right on her tail. You couldn’t have locked up after she left. I’ll ask you one more time, fel. Where is she hiding?

I’m sorry, sir. She’s hiding behind the bar.

The man gave Digger a hard shove, but not hard enough to knock him down. He feigned a stumble as the man returned to the common room. Digger followed on his heels.

Monty was crouching with fear in his eyes.

The man drew his rapier and rounded the bar. The fel woman was gone. But the trapdoor was in plain sight.

The swordsman pointed at Monty. You. Open it.

Monty moved past Digger and opened the trapdoor, revealing the dark space of the bar’s cellar.

Girl, don’t make me come down there. It’ll go worse for you.

No one answered.

Fetch a lantern. You fel are harboring a criminal. You’ll be dancing on a rope on Saturday.

Monty was trembling. We didn’t mean to. She just barged in here. Please.

You should have told me where she was in the first place. It would have gone well with you then. Bad enough we have to share the streets with you in this city. Share your air. But suffering with your lies? I say—

Digger struck him across the head with a heavy pewter serving tray. The tray bent from the blow and the man sagged.

You...dare? he groaned.

Digger abandoned the tray and grabbed a cheese knife. He drove the short blade through the leather tunic and beneath the man’s sternum. The man let out a wheeze. He looked at Digger in disbelief as if seeing him for the first time. His rapier clattered. He collapsed to his knees and keeled over.

Monty let out a whimper. What did you do?

What I had to, brother. It’s plus one for my cart tonight.

Chapter Three

YOU CAN COME OUT.

Digger waited until the greenskin woman climbed up the cellar ladder. Her eyes went wide when she saw the dead man.

You killed him.

You brought him here.

You know what this means for you.

I know the law. All fel do. We’re reminded of it every weekend.

She licked her lips and nodded. I have to go. There’s a back way?

Not so fast. He plucked the bundle from her arms.

That belongs to me!

Wrapped thick in a colorful scarf was another layer of plain paper wrapping. He unfolded it carefully and saw a large round watch made of gold. It had a shining face of pearly white and the numbers and arms were crusted with tiny sparkling gemstones. The second hand was turning and the watch appeared to be keeping time.

She held her hand out. It’s worth a lot.

It’s gaudy. Who’d you steal it from? Who is this guy?

What does it matter? It’s mine now.

When she tried to take the watch from him, he shoved her aside. This isn’t any pocket piece from a nobleman’s wardrobe. Where’d you find this?

She didn’t answer.

Monty had to lean on the bar to stand. He was staring at the body on the floor. Digger? What are we going to do about him?

I’ll bring my cart around back. I’ll take care of it while the two of you clean up the mess.

The woman raised a finger to interject. Excuse me? I need to get out of here. Give me my watch and I’ll be on my way. I’ll give you a cut of this once I fence it.

He wrapped the watch in the paper and shoved it into his cloak pocket. As if we’d ever see you again. I’m holding on to this for now. You’re going to help scrub the blood off the floor. You brought this down on us and you don’t get to just disappear.

She went for the rapier on the floor. Digger stepped on the blade end.

You wanted our help hiding you? This is the deal. Once our problem goes away, you get your watch. What’s your name?

They call me Sprite.

No handles. What’s your real name?

She sighed. Isabel.

Isabel? That’s my brother Monty. I’m Digger.

I thought we were sharing real names.

He ignored the comment. We’ll need an hour of your time, Isabel, and then you can run off and we can all pretend none of this ever happened.

Monty’s face was pale. Then he threw up on the floor.

Digger sighed. Make it two hours.

DIGGER WAS GRATEFUL to discover back alley access next to the burned building. He paused to listen and watch the alley. It was quiet and empty. He wheeled the cart to the back door of the tavern and uncovered the body he had taken from the brothel. The faster he could get the corpse of the tourist away the better.

Inside, Isabel had already wrapped the body up in a dusty rug taken from the center of the common room.

Monty was staring slack-jawed at the mess. Half the dishes were spilled behind the bar and now there was blood on the dark wood floor.

Digger snapped his fingers to get his attention. Hey. Get soapy water and a stiff brush. We’re going to need a lot of it. Grab every rag you can.

Monty nodded but then he hesitated, looking freshly horrified by the rolled-up body.

Snap out of it. Get the water.

Isabel’s honey-colored eyes narrowed. Leave him alone. He’s in shock.

Fear and shock are different. If we want to avoid getting caught, he’s going to have to do what I say.

She moved to pick up one side of the body. Monty will be fine. He just needs a minute. Grab the other end.

They shuffled with the body through the back room and into the alley, where they flopped it into the cart. Digger replaced the tarp and tucked it in around the sides.

The sword has to go too, he said.

As he followed her back inside, he saw she had the tourist’s coin purse slipped into her belt.

Really think having a dead man’s purse on you is a good idea?

He won’t need it. Now give me my watch.

Digger picked up the sword and pushed it into Monty’s arms. Put it in my cart under the tarp.

Sword in hand, Monty moved unsteadily out the back.

Isabel held her hand out. That takes care of that. My watch?

We’re not done. You’re going to help clean first.

You’re just a bully, aren’t you? Have you always treated your brother this way?

It’s none of your business. We wouldn’t be in this mess if it wasn’t for you.

I didn’t kill anyone. I would have slipped away. But you had to stab him with a...what was that thing?

A cheese knife.

Cheese knife. Right. Give me the watch and I’ll start cleaning. But not before.

Scrub first. Then you get your spoils. He removed the watch from his pocket and peeled the paper away. The poor lighting didn’t do it justice. He imagined how much it would sparkle in sunlight. Imagined how much it must be worth. It was still gaudy, though.

Don’t get any ideas, she warned.

As a show of good faith, he set the watch on the counter. She pushed through the swinging kitchen door and then emerged with a bucket and water. With so much food on the floor, it would be impossible to mop until it was swept up.

Again, the front door banged open. Digger was expecting to see another fel ready for a card game who he’d have to shoo away, or perhaps Monty, having come around from the back.

His stomach gave a squeeze.

Standing in the doorway was a man he had seen every Saturday at the gallows but had avoided for many months.

Apologies for slamming the door, the sheriff said, but I saw this notice about a card game.

Chapter Four

I THOUGHT YOU LOCKED the door, Isabel said softly.

Digger realized he hadn’t. With all the excitement, he had forgotten and now he had a new problem to deal with.

The sheriff had dark hair and darker eyes beneath a broad-rimmed green felt hat. On his belt he wore a cudgel and a dagger, even though presumably he was noble-born and could have kept a sword on him. His piercing gaze took in the room as he stepped into the light. With curfew, a game where your kind is invited at an hour like this is courting trouble.

Digger cleared his throat. Yes sir, we know that now. The game’s canceled. Everyone has gone home and we’re cleaning up the establishment for the owner.

And the owner of the place is...?

Lady Sofia. She’s asleep.

There’s no problem here, sir, Isabel said and gave a curtsy.

Oh, my, did I say there was? The sheriff paused and closed his eyes. Smelled the air. Is that bacon?

He hovered over the bar and the remaining intact dishes. He sniffed before selecting one of the bacon-wrapped clams, which he dipped into the red sauce before popping it in his mouth.

Delicious. He ate another. My compliments to the chef.

Isabel was trying to mouth something to Digger but he ignored her.

Fetch you something to drink, sir? Digger asked.

The sheriff took a cloth napkin from a stack and dabbed his lips. I thought this establishment was closed.

Under renovation. The cook is new and wanted to try out some recipes.

Digger made a quick assessment of what was available. One shelf had a few bottles of spirits. On the back counter sat a small keg with a tap dripping foam.

A glass of beer then? For you and your men?

I’m alone. And no, not while on duty. Have to keep a clear head. So what was the game tonight?

Dealer’s choice.

The sheriff peered over the bar. Looks like a waste of food on the floor. What happened here?

Isabel kept her head low as she placed the bucket down on the worst of the bloodstains. There was a mishap and a small disagreement. It was settled, but the mood was spoiled.

Best thing, then. I’d hate to be the one who casts a shadow on your festivities by sending you all home. Shame, really. Your kind deserves to enjoy yourselves from time to time. A game night is better than a bacchanal, which will catch the ire of those more faithful pureblood neighbors. But not many neighbors here to offend, are there?

No, there aren’t, Digger said. He watched the sheriff carefully. We’re cleaning up. We’re not making noise. There’s been no complaint.

"Yes, yes. ‘So why is this lawman here,’ you’re thinking. Curfew is for the city watch to handle. As you may have heard, the duke