Serving Lant Agriche

Chapter 5 - Taking Responsibility for Some Deaths

Dion blinked and sheathed his sword. A drop of the dead man's blood dripped from his fringe.

"I was wrong, Sir," Dion said. He was not used to failing.

His mind felt lighter now, more focused. Instead of feeling a dull sense of boredom that his mind commonly fell back on, he was curious to see what would happen next.

His father was right. Life was more interesting when other people were involved.

"I am sorry for your loss," Lant Agriche lowered his head to the Baron.

"M-my nephew," Ashby said. His silent tears continued to fall as his gaze shifted between the dead man and his dead beloved dog. Chess, he wordlessly said his dog's name.

"Yes, it may be hard to take in but Wally is dead," Lant Agriche said, not unkindly. "Of course, I will compensate."

Ashby's fat face turned a mottled pink. Whatever kinship he had felt towards Lant Agriche before had vanished like smoke. He did not dare move from his seat. He crossed his legs to hide the wet stain on the front of his pants.

"I will settle the affair myself," Ashby said. His upper lip trembled in terror when he glanced at Dion. He shrunk away from the adolescent demon and focused his gaze on Lant Agriche. "I-I will be occupied with cleaning up the scene. I don't want the wife and child to see the upset before they come home." His eyes pleaded at Lant Agrice to go and take the hell child with him.

"You're too kind, Ashby. I'm afraid I can't take advantage of you to that extent," Lant Agriche stood. "At the very least, I shall return Wally's body to his father. If I remember correctly, his mother is already deceased."

"My sister, his aunt, died from typhus," Ashby muttered.

"Even more so that Dion should make a formal apology to the young man's father. I remember Wally was an only child. His father is now without family," Lant Agriche said.

"No! No, please," Ashby was sweating bullets. "I like my brother-in-law." Keep that thing away from him! Away from me! He's the one that should be dead! His panicked thoughts easily showed on his face. He kept his eyes averted from Dion.

"I insist," Lant Agriche said amiably.

On the surface, it was only two words between friends, but Dion heard the command behind his father's voice. Ashby gulped. He had heard the message, too.

"Dennis has retreated to one of his rural properties to relax from business," Ashby drew his wobbly chin to his chest. "He's in his little cabin tucked away in M---shire until summer end. My valet will write down directions for you."

"Thank you, Ashby," Lant Agriche said. "If there's anything I can do to repay you, send word."

The Baron gulped, noticing that Dion's blood-red eyes were the spitting image of his father's. Dion was still only thirteen years old. The Baron's mouth opened in horror as he realised who was truly Satan. The boy was only the devil's spawn.

"Dion, grab Wally and have him in the back," Lant Agriche lighted a cigar. He took a slow drag. "Take the dog carcass too. We may have use of it."

"Yes, Sir," Dion said. Wally's dead body was still bleeding freely on the ground.

Although Dion's body looked as thin as a toothpick, he hauled the young man's body over his shoulder as if he were grabbing a light sack of potatoes. Ignoring the additional blood seeping into his clothes, Dion carried the body over to the horseless carriage and had the body sit on the bench on the back. The footman would have a companion to hold onto during their return to the Agriche mansion.

Dion went back to retrieve the dog's body and then went to the stables to tell the carriage driver that it was time to leave.

 

"It was a fine tea," Lant Agriche doffed his hat to the host. "Good day to you then, Ashby."