Duke of Midnight (Maiden Lane #6)(30)
Author: Elizabeth Hoyt

Transform it into a heat to engulf them both.

APOLLO LAY IN his filthy straw and listened to the boot heels of the approaching guards. It was too late for them to be making the rounds. The inmates of this dismal place had already been served a delicate meal of moldy bread and brackish water. The lights had been dimmed. There was no earthly reason for the guards to be here save in the name of mischief.

He sighed, his chains clinking as he shifted, trying to find a more comfortable position. A new inmate had been brought in yesterday, a young woman, he thought. Due to the construction of the cells, he couldn’t see any of his neighbors, except for the cell across the way from his own. That was occupied by a man whose diseased skin bore a striking resemblance to lichen on a rock.

Last night the new female inmate had sung well into the wee hours, the words of her song quite vulgar, yet her voice had been beautiful and somehow lost. Whether she was truly mad or simply the victim of relatives or a husband grown tired of her, he had no idea.

Not that it mattered here.

Light glowed in the corridor and the boot heels stopped.

“Ave ye something for me, pretty?” It was Ridley, a man both muscled and mean.

“Give us a kiss, then.” And that was Leech, Ridley’s favored henchman.

The woman moaned, low and hurt. Whatever they intended for her was probably quite grim. A chain rattled, as if she were trying to scurry out of their reach.

“Oi!” Apollo shouted. “Oi, Ridley!”

“Shut it, Kilbourne,” the guard yelled. He sounded distracted.

“You’ve hurt my feelings, Ridley,” Apollo shot back. “Why don’t you come over here to kiss it better?”

No reply this time, save for a sob from the woman. There was the sound of rending cloth.

Damn it.

Once upon a time Apollo had thought himself a man of the world. A gentleman inured to the black sin that lurked in the depths of London. He’d drank and gambled and even purchased the favors of pretty women once in a while, for such were the pursuits of boys fresh from university and full of themselves. He’d been so innocent. So naïve. Then he’d come to Bedlam and found what true venality was. Here things that called themselves men preyed upon those weaker than they solely for the sport of it. Solely to laugh in the despairing faces of their victims.

He’d lain through too many nights unable to do anything about it.

But perhaps today he could divert the jackals from their chosen prey.

“Oi, Leech, are you sucking upon Ridley’s prick for him?” Apollo made rude smacking sounds with his lips, leaning as far forward as his chains allowed. “That’s what you get up to when you’re lazing about instead of working, isn’t it? Do you like drinking his spunk? Bet he can’t get enough of your pretty tongue, Leech.”

“Shut his lordship’s mouth for him,” Ridley growled.

On cue Leech’s stubby form appeared at the mouth to Apollo’s cave, holding a short cudgel over his shoulder.

Apollo grinned and crossed his legs, as if lounging at some society lady’s salon instead of laying on reeking filth. “A good day to you, Mr. Leech. How kind of you to stop by. Will you be taking tea with me? Or is chocolate to your better liking?”

Leech growled. He wasn’t much for words, was Leech. Ridley had a tendency to do his talking for him. But Leech did have a sort of low intelligence, belied by his short, sloping brow. He didn’t bother coming close to Apollo, but stayed just out of the chain’s reach as he swung the cudgel viciously at Apollo’s legs.

There were rumors among the inmates that Leech’s cudgel had broken arms and even legs, but Apollo was more than ready. He pulled back his legs at the last minute and laughed up at Leech.

“Oh, no, no. That’s not how we play nicely.”

The wonderful thing about Leech was that he could be depended on. He made two more abortive swings before growing enraged and charging. Apollo caught a blow on his right arm that numbed it to the shoulder, but he was able to kick the cudgel from Leech’s arm.

The guard leaped back, scowling as he nursed his hand.

The woman was moaning now, steady and awful. The hair stood up on the back of Apollo’s arms at the hurt animal sound.

“Rid-ley, oh, darling Rid-ley!” Apollo sang through gritted teeth. “Leech is sulking. Come out, come out and play with me, sweet Rid-ley!”

A foul curse came from the next cell.

“Rid-ley! We all know how tiny your prick is—can’t you find it without Leech’s help?”

That did it. Heavy boots stomping down the hall heralded Ridley’s approach and then the big man loomed into view, his breeches only half-buttoned. Ridley was six feet of pure nastiness: broad, heavy shoulders, thick arms, and a boulder of a head squatting between. The guard’s lip curled in what passed for a smile, and then Apollo realized his mistake, for behind him lurked a third man. Tyne wasn’t nearly as big as Ridley—few men were—but he could be just as vicious given the chance.

Tyne and Leech spread out, circling to attack him from his sides, while Ridley smirked, waiting for his cohorts to position themselves.

Well, that wouldn’t do.

“Now gentlemen,” Apollo drawled, standing slowly, “you know I haven’t made myself presentable. I’m not used to so many visitors this late at night. Ridley, why not send your cronies away and you and I can settle this over a nice cup of tea.”

Both Tyne and Leech attacked at the same time. Tyne aimed a blow at his head from the left while Leech ducked in and went for his middle from the right. Apollo caught Tyne’s fist on his upraised left arm. His right was still not working properly, but he was able to elbow Leech in the face, sending the smaller man flying into the wall. Apollo half-turned to Tyne and backhanded the man with his left fist. Tyne staggered but remained upright, and Apollo was just about to follow with a kick when he realized his peril.

He’d lost track of Ridley.

His feet were yanked out from under him. Apollo’s head smacked the stone floor and for a moment he knew nothing but ringing light. When next he looked up, he saw Ridley, still holding the chains that bound his feet.

Leech staggered over, hand cupped over his bleeding nose, and kicked Apollo in the face. Apollo raised an arm—moving far too slowly, something was wrong—but Leech kicked him again, this time in the ribs. There was pain, but it was muffled somehow, and that should be causing him alarm, he knew. Apollo tried to curl into himself, protect his vulnerable middle, but Ridley yanked on the chains again, pulling his legs straight. Leech had his cudgel now, and was lifting it—