Tainted Blood

Chapter 10

The road was bright with moonlight as the sewer-soaked cobblestones "glistened." There were no words exchanged between the two companions as they stalked in the shadows of the buildings. The night still offered cover for a few hours yet; just enough time to infiltrate the master's Territory and be questioned. Spencer knew she was walking into the lion's den with little protection and no weapons. There was someone in the Pit who did not want her to reach Jonathon and help him, hear what he has to say. She wondered if her father's informants had more of a pull in this hell hole then she had thought. Perhaps her disappearance had sparked something in the community that gave them more power to fight back. It was no doubt rumours of her trips to the Favela had earned her the title of traitor or sympathiser. It was a sacrifice she had prepared for before leaving, that her family was likely to hunt her as an enemy then a loved one.

Elias' hand raised behind him and he signalled for a stop, his head jutting towards the main building of the south quadrant. Guards lined the stone walls and doors, some pacing along the perimeter while others stood still in front of the broken windows. The building stood four stories high, each littered with shattered windows and chimneys that perturded from the roof. Vines climbed the cobblestone walls while shrubs and weeds weaved through balconies and doorways. Spencer's hand travelled to her knives, safely stashed beneath her cloak. The mask she wore tightened around her face as they shuffled towards the door. The movement causing all personnel to snap to attention.

"State your name." one spat, their firing arm focussed on us as they stalked towards us, further from the mansion.

"Elias Turner," he began, "escorting an asset per the master's request."

The guard looked towards the man standing beside him, a device lay in his hand as he talked to it. A radio. A static voice was heard from the other end as the man nodded to the guard and the aim fixed on them was lowered. The guard jutted his head as he moved towards the man door, Elias following close behind. The building was more intact than that of the compound. The walls held together with floral wallpaper and paint, small light dangled from the ceiling as they walked further in. The sewage stench replaced with linen and faint musk. The floors were lined with stained wood and the stairs accompanied by an oak banister. This was not the house of an ordinary mercenary turned leader, this was the house of someone who once lived in wealth.

The group stopped in front of a double door pathway, white paint chipped from the small French planes as other appeared smashed, some glass littering the now checkerboard floor. A small, stained window of a sunset sat intact above the doorway, the now rising run glistening against the colours. Across the threshold stood an archway held by two large pillars, worn with age and dust. A small stair case sat to the right as a large one stood Infront of the Spencer, the path leading towards what used to be a ball room, know sat a hooded figure lounging in a throne. Beside them, a man, his torso exposed; ribs protruding and collarbone sticking out. Around his neck was a leather collar connected to a rope that sat in the hooded figures twirling hands. A blood-soaked cloth was wrapped around his waist; his feet bare and torn. Above them, people stood around the balcony, watching. More guards posted either side of the throne, their faces stone. Elias stopped at the bottom of the staircase, each muscle in his body rigid as he looked towards the pet on the ground. A sinister smile of pearl white teeth could be seen beneath the hood as more people surrounded the two.

"Ah, Elias Turner," the hooded figure purred, "so glad you could make it."

"Elizabeth." He regarded, with a slight bow of his head. Long slender fingers encircled the hood as it was pulled back, Spencer's eyes connected with hers as her smile faltered. One eye was piercing blue while the other white, a long scar ran down the woman's face through her eye, an ugly stain against her fair complexion. Spencer felt the need to look away as a snarl replaced the woman's sneer.