Redemption (Page 4)

"It’s like any of the other countless taverns we’ve been in over the years."

William shrugged and took another sip of his ale. "I’m nowhere near as old as you my friend, or anywhere near as cynical."

Jack scowled at him as William smirked and lifted his pint in a salute. There had been a time in his life when he hadn’t been cynical, when even the routine beatings from his father hadn’t been enough to break him, but lately…

Lately he found little pleasure in anything outside of these taverns, some of their dealings with the people amongst these outer towns, and women. Those moments of pleasure were becoming fewer and farther between though.

Jack grabbed his tankard and downed the contents in one long swallow. He signaled to the waitress for another. Her portly figure reminded him of Kelly and had probably helped to trigger that distant memory of the first time he’d ever encountered David and Daniel. The woman grinned enough to reveal a mouth full of teeth as she placed a fresh drink in front of him. He returned her smile and admired her swaying hips as she walked to another table.

Though she was pretty enough and inviting enough, he wasn’t as tempted by her as he would have been last year or even six months ago. Leaning back in his chair, he listened to the ocean as he sipped at his ale again. There would be plenty of other women in the next town, at the next tavern. For now he simply wanted to be left alone with his drink and his friend.

***

The commotion outside brought Hannah’s head up as someone shouted again. She dropped a full mug of beer in front of old man Turner as she hurried toward the door. Her skin crawled as the distinct ringing of bells drifted through the air. Even though she wanted nothing to do with those bells, she opened the front door and stuck her head outside. The torches that had been lit to light the night flickered over the man riding down the street. Calvin sat straight and tall on the back of his horse, the bells attached to the saddle jingled as the bay horse trotted down the street.

Hannah’s hand clenched on the door as she spotted the rope twisted around Calvin’s hand. The rope dragged behind the horse and was tied around the hands of a boy about the age of ten. She didn’t recognize the boy that stumbled and ran to keep up with the horse. Hannah took a step forward but stopped when someone grabbed hold of her hand.

"Hannah don’t," Uncle Abe warned in a low voice.

She stared at her uncle’s weathered face; his brown eyes were troubled as they took in the scene outside. His salt and pepper hair had been recently cut short, but it still curled around his ears. Her gaze drifted back to the young boy as Calvin arrived at the stage where the stocks were set up.

"He’s just a boy Uncle Abe," she whispered.

"You’re already on Calvin’s radar Hannah; don’t put yourself into the bulls-eye."

She knew that he was right but she couldn’t stand the thought of the young boy being beaten and locked into those stocks for hours, if not days. Calvin may have been in charge here for the past four hundred years, his brutality may have even changed after the war last year, but she couldn’t stand by and watch this happen. Even if it meant that she had to speak with him, even if it meant that he started to pay more attention to her.

She shuddered at the thought. The young boy released a frightened cry; he tripped over the step and fell to the ground as he was pulled up the steps of the stage. Even beneath the layer of dirt coating him, she could count every one of his ribs as they stood out beneath his skin. She couldn’t simply stand here and watch the boy get beaten, nor could she close the door and pretend that nothing was wrong with this picture. She’d forced herself to turn a blind eye to this sort of thing when it involved adult men and women, but she couldn’t do that to a child.

"It will be ok Uncle Abe; I’m just going to talk to him."

"Hannah…"

She squeezed the soft, wrinkled hand on her shoulder before stepping out the door. A small crowd had already gathered, but most of them were Calvin’s men, eager for blood and despair. The disapproving mutters of a few of the people drifted over her but she knew they were all too terrified of incurring Calvin’s wrath to say anything. Though she was apprehensive of drawing more of Calvin’s attention to her, it wasn’t his wrath she was worried about. He’d begun to make his romantic intentions toward her abundantly clear when she’d reached maturity last year at the age of twenty-two.

From the wooden stores and houses lining the road, she saw curtains parting as vampires and humans peered out. Hannah could feel her courage waning as she moved through the mass of Calvin’s men gathered around the stocks. What am I doing? She pondered as she anxiously twisted her hands within the skirt of her faded blue dress. She was about to turn around and retreat to the relatively peaceful world of her family’s tavern when the boy began to cry.

She’d never considered herself overly brave, she’d never been one for confrontation or one who tried to get noticed, but she’d never been a coward either. No matter how badly she would like to slink back into her world of relative obscurity, she knew she simply couldn’t leave that child behind. Straightening her shoulders, she stopped at the edge of the stage.

She had no idea how Calvin was going to react to what she was about to say or do. He might just kill the boy. It may be an illegal action now, but aside from a few of the king’s soldiers that had passed through town over the past year, there was no one to really enforce the new laws. She didn’t know why Calvin had chosen to obey the new king’s laws after the war, but she suspected it was because he feared he might be turned in if he continued his old ways. Hannah had witnessed far too many men and women put to death over the years for crimes that hadn’t warranted such an action. Calvin wouldn’t have been able to keep up that kind of punishment without the risk of someone finally taking a stand against him now that they had a fairer king ruling the land.