them. The passing years had not been kind to him, I noted. His muscle had run to fat, his matted hair was thinner, greyer, and alive with vermin, as was the ratty beard that failed to cover his sagging jowls. I merely shrugged and turned away to continue my conversation with one of the lads frequenting the place, but that was enough to let an astute pander guess where my interests lay. He wandered off, but watched me speculatively as I later left the crowded room.
More than three years had passed since we left England. I had had a surfeit of traveling, longing to return to my native land and to embark upon my overdue revenge, so we had returned to Blackavar, leased to us for an indeterminate length of time. I had been well coached in the royal role of Geoffrey’s younger brother, our presentation at court being imminent, but vengeance drove me to my old haunts, some of the more disreputable taverns and inns of London. At Geoffrey’s request I prowled incognito, for, he said, while such disreputable occupations were not uncommon in royal younger brothers, as he had reason to know, they were still an embarrassment. Within three months I had succeeded in tracing the first of my murderers.
It was several nights later that I returned to Skeres’ den. I caught him eyeing me, and gave the lout a good look at the heavy purse I carried. The ugly man drew a thin, pretty youth into a dark corner, speaking to him earnestly, gesturing towards me, the mysterious man with the heavy purse. The boy looked defiant, then scared, finally nodding in apparent resignation before making his way through the smoky room. His invitation to entertain me was given sulkily and obviously under duress, but I feigned not to notice and followed the young man from the inn. Lige, Elijah Lyly, as he had introduced himself, explained that the dark and twisting alley was a short cut to his lodgings and drew me after him into the darkness.
“This is not the way to your lodgings, is it, Elijah?” I said softly, turning the starveling boy to face me. I had not fed in almost a week and the awareness of his pulsing blood was all but overpowering. “I will not hurt you,” I breathed, and drew the young man into a kiss. Lyly resisted, but only for a moment, then the fascination overtook him and he relaxed—I had learned my lessons well. My teeth found the vein and his sweet blood filled my mouth. I forced myself to take but a little, then withdrew, speaking to the dazed youth in a low and lulling murmur.
The sounds of pursuit echoed in the alley’s mouth, and I turned to face the hounds, placing young Lyly safely behind me. Skeres and two companions spread out to flank me in the small yard at the alley’s end. One man, a ruffian called Thomas Cully, laughed and showed a rusty blade, while the other, a stranger to me, hefted a short but weighty club. Skeres stood back and set the lantern he carried carefully on the ground then motioned the other two forward. He leant against the wall to watch the fun.
I lazily drew the Italian snaphaunce pistol from beneath my cloak and leveled it at Cully’s head. The two stopped and glanced uncertainly at Skeres, who cursed softly at the sudden appearance of the pistol. Too swiftly for mortal eyes to follow, I smashed the gun’s long barrel against Cully’s skull, dropping him, and caught the second knave with the rebound before aiming the pistol at Skeres. His face pale under the dirt, he tried to plead with me, but fell silent at an abrupt movement of the pistol.
“Elijah,” I said softly, “go to sleep until I bid you wake,” and Skeres’ eyes widened to see the youth close his eyes obediently, although he remained standing against the alley wall.
“And now, Nick, it is time for the reckoning,” I murmured. I pulled off the eye-patch I wore and turned so the lantern light fell on the puckered, purple scar. “Do you not know me, Nick? No? Marlowe, who paid so many reckonings for you, whom you repaid with treachery and murder?” I ignored the strangled sound Skeres made. “Yes, I died, but I yet live, or at least after a fashion. How?” Keeping the pistol level, I pulled the boy to me, sinking my pointed canine teeth into his throat again,