Fear

Chapter 20

With the exception of Luke, Nigel, Bruce and Bess, the rest placed their right hand palm up on the table. Bess fumbled under her skirt and produced a box. She opened it. Curious, I watched as she carefully pulled out five black fabric pouches and placed them in the middle of the ring of hands. They moved. Something was inside each one. She stirred them with a finger then picked them up by the cord and placed one on each palm. I watched in fascination.

The pouches stayed immobile for a few seconds and then began to move again. The men watched their own pouch intently, their hands still. The pouches began to roll, some towards the fingers, some towards the wrist. One rolled off the side of a hand. Bess retrieved it and the hand left the ring. Charles left the table. A pouch reached the wrist of another and Bess removed it. Adam stood up. I watched the remainder of the pouches roll on palms. No hand moved. I gathered by the sheen of sweat on the brows of the participants that the contents of the pouches were something to be wary of. I heard a hiss from one man, although I could not tell who had reacted from the faces. Grant watched dispassionately. It seemed this was a regular occurrence. The fingers of one hand began to curl closed. Bess removed the pouch. Mark left the table, his hand a fist. Luke administered an ointment to Mark's palm.

Two hands remained. The pouches still moved but rolled in the centre, not travelling far enough to fall off or be removed. The strain was beginning to tell on the faces of the men, sweat beading on the brows and the hands beginning to shake. I heard another hiss. It wasn't long before another set of fingers began to curl. Bess removed the pouch and Matt stood. Charles tended to the palm with the ointment.

Bess removed the final pouch and John stood up unscathed with a satisfied grin. He bowed his head to Grant. "Talgen." He said.

"Well done, John. Lead accepted. Matt at the rear."

Bess sealed the box and it vanished into her skirt.

- What's in the pouches?

Deathstalkers. Scorpions.

- Dangerous?

Only painful. The sting paralyses - the ointment reverses it.

- Stupid.

It's a show of bravery. They enjoy the thrill. Usually the last one remaining is my personal guard for the day. Now they vie for second place too – to guard you. It makes being stung worth it.

As soon as his hand had uncurled, Matt bowed his head to me. "Sholry." He stated with pride. I decided to accept his bravery and his offer.

"Well done, Matt. You have my back."

He beamed. He was another whose face lit up when he smiled. He turned to congratulate John and then the rest joined in, hugging and clapping each other on the back. They were not quiet but were happy.

Charles and Adam returned to kitchen duty, washing up the used crockery and utensils. The rest began to pack boxes, emptying cupboards of anything not deemed essential. One or two items were queried to me as to their use, boxed or kept as appropriate. It seemed strange to see my stuff boxed away. It had taken a time to collect it all, some items moving with me several times. My kitchen seemed empty without them.

With the entertainment over for the evening, the men were content to knuckle down to the task set for them. Grant and I were in the way; Bess having taken herself into the main room again, to recline regally on my sofa. Grant took my hand, playfully kissed the knuckles and led me away to the bedroom. I heard a couple of male laughs at our expense as we closed the door.