Return to Me - By Morgan O'Neill Page 0,11

brought a heavier cloak! He stamped the ground, cursed, and shivered, but kept his gaze on the front door and continued to wait.

He hazarded a glance at the shimmering stars, glad of the deep, moonless night, then looked at the inn’s third story. A few shuttered windows still had light coming through the slats, and the waiting dragged on. More moments, endless moments, and he imagined the occupants undressing, snuffing out their oil lamps, taking to their beds, and … perhaps fucking. He’d seen a whore enter the inn earlier, the last person to go inside, and, since she hadn’t reappeared, he assumed she was spending the night. That would certainly be costly play! He smiled to himself, then scratched his balls and felt for his coin pouch. When this night’s work was done, he vowed to do the same and hire his favorite meretrix for some all-night play of his own.

Eventually, the remaining lights went out, and the inn lay shadowed in the night’s black depths. Several heartbeats passed and then Bassa heard the squeak of door hinges. Through the gloom, he could see a darker crack appear, the door open, his invitation.

He withdrew his knife and crept forward.

• • •

Gigi snuggled against Magnus, seeking his warmth. The window was heavily curtained and shuttered, but the night air seeped in nonetheless, the brazier by their bed banked and low. She pulled the blanket up and over her head, until it covered everything but her nose, and listened to Magnus’s soft snoring. She was glad he could sleep, wishing she could do the same.

Tomorrow they would set sail for Spain. If they could just reach Placidia and Athaulf in time, if they could just save their baby, if …

No! No ifs. They would succeed.

She opened her eyes and searched the darkness, the world quiet and peaceful, then whispered to the air, “We’re coming, Placidia.”

• • •

Bassa slipped through the front door. The innkeeper had made himself scarce, wanting no further part in the night’s events.

He climbed the steps, satisfied in the way things had turned out. The innkeeper had also agreed to drug his quarry’s wine, so the man and his wife were certainly sound asleep by now.

Easy pickings, he thought.

Bassa reached the third-floor landing and searched the hall, getting his bearings. Harbor side. The door to the room stood ajar. He treaded softly. The brazier’s coals gave off a feeble glow; just enough to see two forms nestled beneath the covers. They were still, their breathing deep, even. He closed the door, moved to the bed, and stared down at the larger figure.

Bassa raised his blade, made sure of his angle, and plunged it into the man’s flesh. Luck was with him and it hit true, causing instant death.

He pulled out the knife and raised it once more, but the woman suddenly thrashed to life and let out a shriek. Bassa leapt upon her, covering her mouth with one hand, his knife piercing her eye and brain with the other.

Her body went limp. He threw the blanket over the corpses and raced out the door. The coins banged against his balls as he left the inn and headed for the whorehouse.

• • •

Gigi held Placidia’s infant son. He was so sweet, a little peanut with big, blue eyes and a smile that reminded her of Athaulf’s youngest daughter, Rosenda …

A scream of terror rent the air and was cut short.

Awakening with a start, Gigi sat upright, breathing hard, and tried to make sense of the sound.

Magnus yanked her out of bed. “That was meant for us. The window — open the window!”

Gigi threw back the curtains and opened the shutters as Magnus grabbed their gear and leaned out, letting their leather knapsacks and cloaks drop onto the stable roof.

Damn! The .45 was in her bag, so was the stun gun. They would do her no good for the moment. Thank goodness they’d kept their blades in their belts!

Magnus held onto the window ledge and lowered himself outside, then dropped the few feet to the tiled roof below. Gigi did the same, easing into his outstretched arms before her feet touched down. They sat and slipped to the edge, then repeated what they’d done at the window.

The stable boy opened the door a crack and hoarsely whispered, “Who’s there?”

Magnus wedged his foot into the doorway before the boy could shut himself in, and spoke softly, “There has been a murder inside tonight, and I hope to the gods you did

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