The Feral Spirit Calls

Bound by Blood

His knife held steady at the man's neck, piercing a superficial slice through the thick folds of fat, guarding vital routes of blood supply as he gathered a fist full of Wright's sweaty, thinning hair.

"Are you lost, Mr. Wright?" he growled. "This is no place for you at this hour."

Blood trickled from the crease of the man's neck. "You have just made a costly mistake, Delaney," Wright gurgled through the spittle seeping from his jowls. "I will see you hanged."

James had come to find Andrew Wright was just as crooked as Stuart Strange, but with much less power.

Yet, wielded power nonetheless.

America had proven to be just as corrupt as England. Human greed knew no boundaries.

And the 'honorable' Andrew Wright was rotten with greed. Coveting James' amassed wealth to the point of unlawful seizure unless he was incorporated into his dealings.

He was a thorn in James' side that had to be removed. Coupled with the attack on the hauntingly intriguing Mrs. Thorpe... and the decision to end his life couldn't have been more certain.

"Mr. Wright, you aren't going to live long enough to see the light of day. Let alone, see me hang."

He moved his knife to the man's belly, preparing to gut him like a fattened calf...

"No!" Mrs. Thorpe cried, falling from the table, her body dropping to the floor in a heap, then dragged herself toward the men, determination fiercely stamped across her face. "No. No, you mustn't." she breathed, grabbing at James' arm.

He did not falter, hooking the tip of the knife below the gold button of Wright's vest. "Look away, Mrs. Thorpe. This is no sight for a woman."

She yanked James' arm. "You don't understand, Mr. Delaney," she grit her teeth, blood gently filling the cut on her lip. "You mustn't..."

His eyes met hers, bewildered as Wright began to chuckle beneath his grasp. "The woman knows her loyalties, Delaney..."

James responded to him with a quick punch to his portly face, then looked back to her. Her green eyes were as rich as the jungles of Africa. "I will not hang, Mrs. Thorpe... and you will no longer be of service to him."

She shook her head, bringing her hand to his, wrapping it around the fist holding the knife. "You don't understand, Mr. Delaney," she whispered. "You cannot kill this man... I must do it."

Her gaze held his, momentarily taking his wonderment captive. The light in her eyes had changed. Something beyond civil humanity dwelled in them. A feral spirit danced within her that he'd only ever seen in the eyes of beasts... and himself.

As if under her spell, his hand released his grip on the knife, allowing her to take it in her grasp and watched on as she turned those eyes to the Judge, slumped against the wall.

She slapped the man's face, encouraging him back to consciousness. "Look at me." she seethed, squeezing his fleshy cheeks between her thumb and fingers, jerking his head to her.

Wright stirred awake, eyes swimming in fear when he spotted the knife in her hand.

"Look at me!" she shouted, slamming his head against the brick.

The moment his eyes came to her, his condemnation was delivered.

The knife sliced through his clothing and sunk into his flesh like warmed lard. A gutteral noise came from the man as she held his face steady, watching the terror and pain overwhelm him as if she were stealing his soul.