A Game of Chess, Chapter 23 - PG-13

[librarian_7]

Dear Friends, as usual, it’s been far too long since I updated this. I always like to post on New Year’s Day, in hopes that my activities on that day will signify what I’ll be doing throughout the year. So, here’s a new chapter, in hopes that others will appear more rapidly!

A Game of Chess

Chapter 23


“Madigan!” Cat exclaimed, twitching her hips to slide between the crowded tables of the Aerie. “I thought you’d forgotten us!”

Josef glanced up, putting the tumbler of whiskey he’d been sipping from down on the unsteady table in front of him. The outline of the girl’s approaching form was softened by the smoky atmosphere, the swaying shadows from the hanging lamps casting dim and shifting light. He’d spent a long afternoon listening to a series of reports from the docks, of thefts, vandalism, and general mayhem. All the things he was paying good money to the Eagle Boys to prevent. In the long haul it was minor, but he always held it as a point of pride that his businesses should prosper. In wartime economy, he should be making money hand over fist in all his endeavors, and Night Wind Trading should be leading the way. This nonsense was cutting into profits. That was not acceptable.

“Well, that was quick,” he said as she slipped into his lap. He wrinkled his nose. “Jesus, Kitten,” he added, “how many men have had you tonight?”

She turned her face away, but not before he caught the wounded look in her eyes. “You met me on the street, Madigan. I’ve got to get by.” She made as if to rise, but his arm around her waist was like an iron band.

He reached out with his other hand to pick up his whiskey and take a hard slug. “Settle down,” he growled. “You don’t get to run away just because I’m in a mood.”

Cat forced herself to relax, painting on a smile and walking her fingers at the front of his vest, flirting. “Aww, Madigan, what can I do to cheer you up?” she asked.

“Don’t be coy,” he replied for the benefit of anyone who might be listening, “you know what I like.”

Cat giggled, a false sound that grated on Josef’s ears. “You know that I do, Madigan,” she said. Leaning closer she murmured in his ear, “The Eagle told me to keep you here.”

He gave her a sharp look. “He knew I’d be here tonight?”

She smiled and shook her head. “No. He told me days ago. Whenever you came in, keep you here.”

“What happens if I walk out now?” He asked, curious to see her reaction.

She swallowed, and Josef could smell the fear. “Nothing, to you,” she laughed, a sound as brittle as breaking glass.

Josef considered. What was this girl to him, that he should waste a moment’s concern on her? It wasn’t as though he’d fed on her, wasn’t as though she’d been anything but a spy for the Eagle, ever since she first brought him here. His sire had cautioned him, strongly and unforgettably, about the unwisdom of what he referred to as a “soft spot for the mortal ones.” And among vampires, he tried to overcome even the least tendency in that direction. And yet – as he grew older, he found that it was the humans that touched him, that made immortality bearable. It was more than the simple need for fang on flesh, more than the living sustenance of their blood. If it were only that, he could live as well on cattle or lesser beasts. But he’d tried it, and found that would not serve. He needed the contact of mind and mind, the challenge of matching his intellect with others. Human, vampire…the strategies and stakes were different, but the rewards of victory were the same. Kitten was a tool, he told himself, a means to an end. Nothing more.

“Hey, Madigan, you in there?” Kitten said quietly.

Josef turned to speak directly to her, and controlled the flinch at her odor. He raised his whiskey glass and put it to her lips. “Rinse your mouth,” he said. She took a mouthful, and he set the glass down and put a remorseless finger under her chin. “Don’t swallow until I tell you.” He waited until tears were starting in her eyes, before he relented.

She swallowed, and coughed. “You’re cruel, Madigan,” she said, all traces of her habitual coquettishness gone.

He smiled. “You wouldn’t say that if you really thought so,” he replied. The arm he had looped around her waist tightened, and he splayed his fingers against her side. Through the layers of fabric, he could feel the flat discs of the gold pieces sewn into the lining of her corset. He put his lips closer to her ear. “I’ve paid for your time, and your person, and I haven’t asked much in return, have I?”

She shook her head and tried to smile at him.

He glanced around under the cover of taking a swallow of the whiskey he was pretending to drink. If anyone was listening to them, or watching them, they were doing a damn fine job of being unobtrusive about it. He spoke again, softly, so that only she could hear. “Laugh, little cat,” he said. “and listen to what I’m going to tell you.”

She complied, wrinkling her nose a little bit and making a face at him. It was much closer to her usual demeanor, and he was pleased.

“What I want,” he said, smiling himself as though the subject were the lightest of all possible subjects, “is for you not to waste your time at your usual pursuits. I’ll give you one of those shiny five dollar gold pieces every week to sew into your stays, and as much again in smaller coins for you to live on. That ought to pay for food and drink and a room.” He looked at her narrowly. “That means you stay off your knees, and away from all those quick jobs up against the wall. Do you accept?”

Kitten squirmed at the last and made a little squeak as though he were tickling her. She tapped him lightly on the shoulder, and put her lips close to his ear. “It’s a good offer, but –”

“But what?”

“Sometimes I can’t say no. The Eagle – he wants me once or twice a week.”

Josef nodded, as though the information were expected. “Does he, now? Well, I think I can make an exception for that.”

Kitten pouted. “I don’t always see you every week, Madigan.”

Josef smiled indulgently. “Monday mornings, go to my – my boss’s house. I’ll leave your money with Mrs. Davidson. Tell her I said to feed you a good meal, too.”

“Hot?”

“Hot.”

Kitten’s grin was genuine.

“But you’re going to behave yourself in that house, little cat, or I’ll hear about it. And you won’t like the consequences.”

The girl laughed. “Me? I’m always well-behaved. All the tutors at my finishing school say so.”

Josef laugh was more sincere, this time. “You always surprise me, Kitten,” he said. His brown eyes narrowed. “Now, tell me what’s going on tonight.”

“I’m not supposed to know –”

“But you do.” She shifted uncomfortably on his lap. “What can I say? People talk, and they don’t pay attention to a nobody like me.”

“That’s part of your value.” He accompanied the comment with a quick caress. “So what have you heard?”

Kitten glanced around. “The Eagle don’t trust you.”

“That is not news.”

“No, but he’s been talking about taking you down a peg. He thinks if he can take you down, it’ll make Night Wind look weak.”

“Dammit, he’s being paid – well – to look out for Night Wind’s interests.” Josef’s voice was hard, and Kitten flinched at the intensity. “It doesn’t make sense,” he continued, “unless someone else is paying him.”

“I wouldn’t know about that,” Kitten said, nervous.

Josef gave her a little grin to reassure her. “I wouldn’t expect you to, Kitten,” he said, “but I need you to find out what’s planned for this evening. Up for a little playacting?” He slipped a hand up under her skirt, his cool fingers grazing the bare skin above her stockings at the same time as he jogged his knee, bouncing her.

Cat squealed, her surprise not entirely unfeigned, and threw her arms around his neck again. “You wouldn’t leave me now, Madigan, would you?” she asked desperately. “If you leave, the Eagle’ll beat me something fierce.”

“I’m paying you,” he responded. “I’m not going to leave until I get that report.”

She nodded, forcing herself to giggle and put on a bright smile, and slipped off his knee into the crowd. Josef called out for another whiskey, and watched her go. What she’d said about the Eagle beating her bothered him. And it bothered him that it bothered him. He always disliked letting mortals get under his skin, but here was, happening again.

It wasn’t just Kitten, either. All this nonsense with Sky Smith and the Marshall family baying at his heels, as though he were some kind of consultant on business and social affairs. And then there was Tessa. Ned, not so much of a problem. The boy was good, steady, received his bites like a man, without any fuss or fainting spells. But he felt like Tessa was more responsibility than he’d bargained for, and he knew he had only himself to blame for that. And himself. He always ultimately had himself to blame for these situations.

He sighed, and surveyed the room. There seemed to be the usual crowd in attendance, drinking their paychecks and generally having a raucous good time. Underlying the general merriment, though, there was a current of excitement, running around the tavern. He didn’t know quite what to make of it, but it felt like…an air of expectation.

Josef considered, briefly, cutting his losses and heading out into the night. He took another sip of whiskey. He didn’t want for Kitten to face any punishment on his behalf. Not to mention, if the Eagle was that interested in keeping him there, it was certain that two or three Eagle boys would have been detailed to follow him if he did leave. And while he was just about in the right mood to break a couple of heads in the first convenient dark alley that came to hand, even in Five Points, it was getting so that that sort of thing ended up causing a lot of questions. Might as well stick around, and see what the Eagle had up his none-too-subtle sleeve.

Josef didn’t have to wait for long. He spent a few minutes covertly watching Kitten’s progress around the room, as she laughed with one man, tossed a flirting remark out to another, and generally behaved like the seasoned saloon girl that she was. Soon enough, she was sliding back into his lap, a broad grin on her little pointed face. She leaned forward, as if to smack him on the cheek with a kiss, and whispered, “Boxing. He’s going to trap you into boxing him.”

Josef laughed as if he had not a care in the world, but his mind was racing. This is about the last thing he needed. “He’s a good fighter, the Eagle,” he commented. “Guess I’d best to be on my toes.”

Kitten nodded, her eyes wide. “I’ve never seen him lose.”

Josef quirked an eyebrow. “Then you might want to stick around,” he said.

Looking in his face, something she saw in his eyes caused her to bite back any retort she might have made. She looked carefully, left and right, and said, “He fights dirty.”

Josef gave her a lopsided smile. “And what makes you think I don’t?” He shook his head. “Don’t worry about me, Kitten,” he said. “The Eagle is the one who’s in trouble here.”

A commotion at the front of the room drew Josef’s attention. Four men, who Josef recognized as cronies of the Eagle, began moving tables and chairs away from the bar, forming an open space in the form of a rough square. They were not particularly gentle with those their efforts displaced, but no one protested. Entertainment promised, and for that they were willing to put up with the small inconvenience of changing their seats. A low rumble of excitement ran around the tavern, the noise echoing off the low beams of the ceiling and magnifying the sounds of glassware on the tables.

The Aerie exploded in yells and applause as the Eagle strutted into the room. He was already stripped to the waist, a red, white, and blue sash wrapped snugly around his midsection. He raised both arms and roared, and the crowd roared with him. Dropping into a boxer’s stance, he threw a few punches against an imaginary opponent. “Do you want to see a fight tonight?” He bawled over the crowd noise. “Do you want to see some blood?”

He took the resulting tumult as an affirmative. Prowling around the open area, he surveyed the men in the saloon, clearly seeking out his opponent of choice.

Josef was dismayed. There would be no opportunity to avoid this, gracefully or not. He was utterly unsurprised when, on his second circuit of the improvised ring, the Eagle paused and lifted a hand in Josef’s direction.

“Oliver Madigan,” the Eagle exclaimed, “are you game?”

No, Josef thought, I am most definitely not game. Suppressing a sigh, he moved Kitten from his knee, and rose. “If it’s a fight you’re wanting, Eagle,” he said, “then I’m your man.” He put aside his cap, and began removing his jacket, vest and shirt, depositing them on his chair.

“I’ll see to your things,” Kitten said, quietly, and he nodded to her. “Kick his ass,” she added, her voice intense.

He gave her a half-smile, and turned to the Eagle. Tables and chairs slid out of the way to let him move forward, although he could not help thinking he was walking into a trap.

Once in the open area, Josef danced a few steps, bringing his fists up and cocked, a simple demonstration that he was no novice. Deliberately though, he made this display a trifle clumsy, and at the same time a mimicry of the more mannered postures of the prize fighting ring. These men surrounding him were dockside scrappers, tavern brawlers, and not one of them but harbored a secret opinion that they can take on any of the perfumed dandies of the prize ring, should they happen to meet such a creature on the streets of Five Points. Josef knew better than to think he could sway the crowd to his side, here in the Eagle’s home nest. He was still debating whether to try and lose gracefully, or win the bout while preserving a modicum of the Eagle’s dignity.

He sighed. What he wanted to do – and was perfectly capable of doing – was to pick up the Eagle and heave him through the wall, with just enough spin to ensure that he’d hit face first. A pleasant thought to entertain, but one he had no intention of realizing. Letting this crowd of thugs know he was anything out of the ordinary had – ramifications – for his business that would echo far outside the Aerie. He moved his feet, as though the metaphorical shifting ground on which he stood were a reality.

His opponent seemed ready to begin at once, but Josef held up a hand. “Before we start, what rules to follow? London prize?”

The Eagle laughed. “Does this look like some sporting a palace to you, Madigan?” he asked. “I’ll give you this: no biting, kicking, nothing below the belt. If you need more rules than that, you’re not the sport I took you for.”

Josef let a slow, knowing smile spread across his face, and it was to Sullivan’s credit that he recoiled slightly. Somehow, when fully clothed Madigan seemed slightly built; nothing to be feared. With his shirt off, a set of broad shoulders were revealed, the arms and tapered torso corded with muscle.

“I can agree to that,” Josef said. “How far do you want this to go?”

“I think we’ll know we’re done.” The Eagle spoke flatly. He was accustomed to ending a fight when his opponent was either unconscious or incapable of getting back up. This time, he thought it might be wise to leave himself an out.

The men began to circle each other warily, to the accompaniment of hoots and cheers from the crowd. From the many shouts of “Give it to him, Eagle!” and “Watch his eyes, Sullivan!” it was clear that the sympathies of the audience were not with the outsider. Occasionally, Josef could hear Kitten’s voice, shrill against the background of male rumbling, calling out, “Hit ‘im, Madigan!” He smiled slightly, at her partisanship. Nice to know the entire crowd wasn’t against him.

Meanwhile, he was getting tired of the endless, careful circling. He didn’t want to throw the first punch, and all he was reading in the Eagle’s pale blue eyes was wary caution. Finally, though, finally there was a flicker of movement, and Sullivan’s fist lashed out in his direction. Josef, taking care not to move at full speed, sidestepped the blow, blocking it with an arm. He ducked in under the Eagle’s guard, and laid a sharp right to his ribs, then danced away.

Sullivan staggered for a step, then whipped around to aim another blow at Josef’s back. Josef let this one land, twisting away from the force of Sullivan’s fist, staggering forward himself as though caught unawares. The crowd roared, beer mugs thumping against the tables.

The fight took on a rhythm, after that. A few wary circles, then a rush and a flurry of blows. Breaking apart, to begin circling anew. Josef noted that Sullivan had begun to sweat, and, aware that his lack of perspiration would be noticed, even in the low and flickering light of the lanterns, he made a point, during the next pass, to fall away and into a table of drinkers. The spray of spilled beer across his face and chest glistened like droplets of sweat on his skin, and he made a false pass of his hand over his face, as though wiping the moisture away. Deliberately, he gave a few hard pants, as though winded. The Eagle hadn’t mentioned rounds; Josef supposed they were going to continue until one of them dropped, or cried for quarter.

He sighed to himself. At this rate, he’d be here all night, trading right crosses and left jabs, and accomplishing nothing. He began to hit a trifle harder, a trifle faster, and moved in, head down, to lay a quartet of punishing blows to the Eagle’s ribs.

“Dammit,” Sullivan roared, shoving him away. Josef could see the rage fall across the Eagle’s face, as he gasped from the assault and snarled. “Get ready, Madigan, I’m done playing around!”
He launched himself at Josef, fists flailing. He landed a hit just below Josef’s eye, hard enough to open a cut on his cheekbone.

Josef could smell his own blood welling out, and managed to swipe a quick hand across the cut, smearing the blood so the disappearance of the wound would not be noticeable. Firing back, he caught the Eagle in the mouth, splitting the man’s lip and driving him back a few feet. Holding up a hand for a break, Josef doubled over, as though recovering his breath, and thought furiously. This had gone on about long enough, although he was still debating whether to feign defeat or claim victory. He took a covert glance at the crowd. The Eagle, taking advantage of the lull to demonstrate his superiority to his followers, was striding around the edge of the makeshift ring, shouting and gesticulating.

Damn, Josef thought. A whipped up crowd like this, and he’d have a hard time surviving a loss without revealing himself. Once he went down, unless the Eagle called them off, they’d tear him to pieces. They might do that if he won, but there was a chance that Sullivan would choose to be a magnanimous loser, to salvage what he could of his hold on the crowd.

He could see that the Eagle was tiring. Sheened with sweat, his bruised ribs heaving, Sullivan was putting on a good front, but Josef wasn’t fooled. It was time to end this, now. He straightened up, and shifted once more into the fighter’s stance, his battered fists cocked. He could have attacked from behind, while Sullivan wooed his crowd, but that wouldn’t do. It had to be straight up and sportsmanlike. “Eagle!” he shouted. “Enough palavering. Don’t be celebrating your victory before the game is won!”

As he’d expected, Sullivan turned to him, bringing his fists up. “Right you are, then,” he snarled. He moved forward, although his step was not as quick as it had been, and the sheen of sweat on his face and chest was heavier. He was tiring, and his guard not as tight as when they had started.

Josef smiled a little, and moved in, feinting with his right fist at Sullivan’s midsection, and following through with a left uppercut to the jaw. He put a little more force into the punch than he’d allowed himself before, and had the satisfaction of seeing the Eagle stumble backwards, falling to the floor. Josef stepped away, watching closely, but he knew that Sullivan was unlikely to be getting up soon.

The crowd was roaring, and one of the Eagle’s lieutenants jumped into the ring area to assist him to his feet, sending glares at Josef. He slapped Sullivan’s face, and called for a bucket of water, but before one could be handed to him, the Eagle shook his head groggily, and began to struggle to his feet.

Josef, shouldering through the crowd, extended a hand, and Sullivan took it, letting Josef pull him up.

Smiling, the Eagle said, in a loud enough voice to carry through the room, “A fair fight, boys, and well won.” Josef noticed, however, that Sullivan’s eyes were wintry, and the hearty boom of his words was not reflected in his expression.

“No hard feelings, then, Eagle,” Josef said with a smile. “A lucky punch, to be sure.”

The Eagle rubbed at his jaw, where a bruise was already beginning to bloom. “To be sure,” he repeated. “Although I never knew I had a glass jaw.” He narrowed his eyes. “And you’ve barely broken a sweat.”

Josef passed a hand over his bare chest. “The exercise warmed me well enough,” he said. It was time to be leaving, he thought, and looked around for Kitten and his things.

On cue, she came through the crowd, eyes shining. “Oh, Madigan, I should have had more faith.”

He laughed at her. “That you should, dolly.” Taking his shirt from the pile of cloth in her arms, he slipped it on. The sooner he covered his lack of bruises, the better. “I’ll be going now, Eagle, if you don’t mind.”

“Surely you’ll stay for a toast to your victory?” Sullivan responded, another challenge in his eyes.

Josef had no interest in competitive drunkenness, but he forced a smile. “Indeed,” he replied. “I’ll stand a round for the house.” He pulled his notecase from the pocket of the jacket he’d just donned, and laid a ten dollar bill on the bar with a decisive slap. “This should cover it.”

Eyes widened around the room. That should cover the first round handsomely, and the second as well, if the reckoning was honest. As the men crowded forward, bellying up to the bar, Josef faded back. He tipped a nod to Sullivan, who was watching him, and lifted one side of his mouth in a sardonic grin. With that, he slipped from the room, leaving the Eagle to ponder his defeat.

A few steps down the street, and he became aware that he was being followed. He recognized the footsteps, though, and turned to face the bedraggled girl in cheap finery.

“The Eagle tell you to follow me?”

She shook her head. “No, but someone needs to watch your back. He ain’t going to like you beating him like that.”

Josef barked out a harsh laugh. “I expect not. But taking the dive to him would have lost me all his respect.”

Kitten pondered this for a second. “True. But if I were you, Madigan, I’d stay out of Five Points for a time.” She peered around her into the dim murk of the night street, and sauntered up to catch at his arm. “There’ll be those watching, even now.”

Josef dug a small coin out of his pocket, and gave it to her. “I’m done with you for the night, Kitten,” he said for the benefit of any listening ears. “Be on with you.” The coin was accompanied, however, with a wink, and the girl understood what he meant.

“We had a deal,” she said with false peevishness.

“Oh, no, sweetheart,” he replied. “We have a deal.” And with that, he turned, and was out of sight in seconds, leaving her to stand on the dirty boardwalk, all alone.

[allegrita]

Oh, yay!! A great, long chapter of my favorite story! Thank you so much for the New Year's gift, Lucky. And you've given us lots of different kinds of gifts in this one. First and foremost, Josef stripped to the waist, kicking the Eagle's ass? Oh yes. And you've brought back Kitten, too! I was wondering what she'd been up to. It's about time Madigan paid attention to his dockside interests. But oh man, when he says he's "in a mood", he's not kidding. Kitten has a hard life, and Josef didn't make it any easier in this chapter. It's a good thing she's so resilient, because a lesser woman would have been pretty wounded by the way Josef treated her. Then again, she's way too used to being, well, used by men. I really hope she comes out of this story with a better life than she's got now. She could really make something of her life, with a little help.

Thank you for this wonderful chapter. It may take you a while between chapters, but when you deliver, you really deliver!

[LadyAilith]

To say that I was thrilled when I got a notification of a new chapter would be an understatement! How marvelous to get a new chapter with one of my favorite vampires as the star. *sigh* It was everything I'd hoped it would be. Thanks so much Lucky! Here's to more of them in this new year!

LadyAilith

[francis]

I love the description of the fight and how Josef thinks about things. It seems he needs to paymore attention to his trade now.
Love the story!

[darkstarrising]

Wonderful continuation of the story, Lucky!

As Josef ponders the failings of his enterprises, he finds himself roped into a fight he didn't want. Lose the fight, and he'd lose respect. Win the fight and he might just be bringing even more trouble on his head.

Your description of the fight itself and its audience paid great attention to detail, yet allows the reader to fill in any 'blanks' as they will. I could hear the roar of the raucous crowd, and smell the sweat of the combatants. Yet it was your descriptions of Cat's hardships that got to me. She is used and abused at times, with nothing but her body to get her by. Yet still, she has a heart, even if it comes with a price.