Children of Tragedy

AN: They’re back. Sorry folks Kendra and Azmaria aren’t dead yet (honestly we tried, they just won’t die!) Sorry for the delay in posting. Between school, work, family drama, and a convention we’ve been a little busy, plus my co-author and I gave birth to a new brainchild coming soon to a computer screen near you, The House of Tepes Series. Fear the spawn of Alucard.

Warning(s): Language, alcohol, other suggestive themes.



Chapter Four: In the Slums…

(The drunkard sleeps tonight.)



The place was dark and dank, reeking of alcohol and stale sweat. Smoke choked the air and clouded what little light that struggled to penetrate the darkness from ceiling lamps hanging down around the room. The loud mummer of voices blended together with the clinking of glasses from patrons lining the bar and the numerous tables.



Men sat around, some drinking, some talking with an occasional curse thrown in for good measure as they either lost or gained money at one of the many card tables and scantly clad women wandered about giggling trying to entice some pay from costumers for services rendered for their money hungry pimps lurking in the shadows, already calculating today’s profit. Needless to say, this was not the image the girls had of Rome prior to entering this bar.



‘I didn’t think there would be this many whores around. Damn and here I thought this was the “Holy City”,’ Kendra thought taking in her surroundings.



A few people turned to stare when she entered looking at her with hungry eyes. Some even had the audacity to even whistle. She grumbled heading deeper in to the bar with a still hesitant Azmaria in tow. The small girl had been nearly petrified with fear before entering; ranting about how father wouldn’t like these types of people and they weren’t the sorts to be dealing with, but as they stood at the bar and she looked about she seemed to grow at ease.



Her youthful face gleamed in recognition of her surroundings, as though she knew it from some far off former life. The panic stricken girl from a few minutes ago was no more instead in her place stood someone who seemed almost completely comfortable within the tiny, cramped bar, which was more then could be said for Kendra who stood ordering a drink, completely on guard. It was almost as if the rancid smell of stale sweat and alcohol with the clamor of curses spewing from the drunkards was nothing new to her making the small girl feel almost at home. It was not long after that, Azmaria drifted out away from her friend’s side unnoticed, swallowed by the crowd.



Kendra looked up from her drink, mouth poised to speak some reassurance to her small companion only to find her gone.



‘Where did that munchkin go now?’ Kendra pondered, looking out over the crowd trying to spot the red-eyed girl. ‘Hope she doesn’t get herself into trouble. Oh well she has that dumb cat with her, so she should be fine,’ she shrugged taking a sip of her drink trying once again to see if she could spot Azmaria or Mr. Whiskers within the crowd to no effect. She had completely disappeared.



Well, disappeared was a harsh word. The truth was, Azmaria was had only wandered a few feet away from Kendra to one of the tables where a loud game of poker was in progress, as if drawn to it. She stood behind one of the many players, staring over his shoulders at the cards he held in his hand with a strange curiosity. It was her that instinct took over and the little girl’s “father” had taught her to be took a back seat to a part of her that she couldn’t really remember but knew existed. And her instinct told her to take these suckers for all they were worth.



“What do the two cards with the red A’s mean?” Azmaria questioned in the most innocent tone she could muster. The man before her slammed his hand down in anger to the laughter of his fellow players.



“Why you little…,” he began, standing up. He towered over Azmaria’s small frame as he trembled in rage. “Do you have any idea how much that hand cost me?”



‘Crap, think fast Azmaria. Think!’



“Oh, I’m sorry. Did I do something wrong? I’m so sorry. I meant no harm, honestly. I was just curious. I swear it,” she stumbled in a meek voice, keeping her sharp eyes on the man before her. Mr. Whiskers sat at her feet waiting for a sign that his assistance would be required.



The other men at the table roared with laugher at the other’s behavior towards what they saw as nothing more then a mere child. Azmaria might be a full grown adult, but damn if she couldn’t pull off the child look unlike anyone else. If you didn’t know better you would have honestly have thought she was a naïve, innocent young girl that had happened upon this place by sheer accident, and that was exactly what that hidden part of her mind wanted you to think.



Looking about in an almost panic manner, Azmaria back pedaled as the man began to slowly close the gap between them “I swear Sir, I meant no harm.”



“Claudio, leave the poor girl alone,” an elder man looking about in his fifty or so with thinning black hair called out, “she’s just a curious little girl. I’m quite sure that she didn’t do it purposely.” The smile he gave her, or maybe it was the look in his eye, that sent a shiver down Azmaria’s spine. Somewhere in the back of her mind, she felt the prickling of memory about people like him but it was faded and she could recall no details of why that smile set off warning alarms. “Why don’t you come and join us and play a hand or two?”



“Oh, I would love to but you see, I don’t have the slightest idea how to play,” she cooed putting on a little pout, “so you would win all the time and that’s no fun.”



“Well that’s ok. Why don’t you come over here and sit on ol’ Antonio’s lap,” patting his knee “I would be happy to teach you a few things or two about the game.”



There it was again, that sick perverse tone sneaking its way into the man’s voice. It made Azmaria sick to her stomach as she mentally debated whether or not risk it though in truth she couldn’t really tell you what the risk was or why it was bad, it was just that unconscious part of her that kept sending out words or warning.



‘Hmm play or not to play? Do I honestly want to risk whatever his tone is implying? But we need the money, but I really don’t know how to play this game. Oh well, what could go wrong?’ the small girl debated before she skipped happily over to the elder gentleman’s side and sat down on his lap, a fake smile pasted on her face the entire way.



“That a girl. Claudio, deal the cards,” Antonio smiled helping Azmaria get situated on his lap comfortably.



Mr. Whiskers made a purring noise as he rubbed against her leg, only to receive a nod from his owner to begin his rounds about the table as the cards were dealt. Azmaria took a quick survey of the table occupants, sharp red eyes subconsciously calculating and formulating the best plan of attack for the cards in her small hands, all the while she listened to the quiet series of purrs and meows being issued from the giant cat.



“Remember boys take it easy on our new friend, else she might want to play later,” the sick tone oozed from his voice as he gave up trying to hide it as his eyes began to wander over the small girl in his lap.



‘We will see who is played in the end you sick bastard,’ a smug smirk spread across her lips as she took one last listen to the soft purrs at her feet, laying down her first winning hand of the night to the astonishment of all the occupants at the table.



“Beginners luck I guess,” she giggled collecting her winnings smirk bigger then ever.



All the while, Kendra stood at the bar having given up her search, was taking shots and talking with a few drunks around, flirting as she slipped her hand into their pockets taking whatever money they had, all unknown to them. Though as she made her way along the bar from drunk to drunk the number of shots she had to take started to grow exponentially seeing as each one turned out to be drunker and poorer from the last which translated sadly to it was going to be a long night.



‘Damn munchkin. Wasn’t the entire idea to gather money for food, not get lost? Why is it always left up to me, why me? We come here and she gets afraid, then she ups and leaves me, the nerve of her. Hope she gets kidnapped,’ the disgruntled woman mentally ranted downing another shot as she stepped across a man she had just been talking to who had had one drinks too many and was now sprawled out on the floor snoring loudly.



About three-fourths of the way down the bar Kendra had to come to a stop as one patron caught her attention from the corner of her eye. Sitting there at the end of the bad a lanky looking man sat fumbling with his drink looking completely uncomfortable in his surroundings. He seemed out of place here in this place of rambling drunkards and wannabe prostitutes who kept approaching him with swaying hips only to be turned away with a series of nervous hand gestures and sheepish grins.



Typically Kendra would of looked the other way shaking her head at the absurdity of the man’s presence, but there was something about the long flowing strands of silver that triggered flashes of blurred memories of days long since past. She recalled a scene with vivid detail. The swirl of dancers gliding about the grand hall in sweeping bows and dips to the rhythm of the sweet music coming from the orchestra set up along the far wall and the echo of murmured voices. It was through the colorful whirls of skirts and bodies moving to and fro that she first saw him from her master’s side. Across the room chatting quite enthusiastically with the elegant blonde woman on his arm and fellow quests, his back to her with his long silver strands bound low on his head swaying as he gestured passionately about whatever he was talking about.



This was Kendra’s first sight of the legend among the imprisoned, the man she had heard so many rumors of. It was a well known fact that this man was not fond of slavery in any form, and he himself would openly proclaim it to everyone no matter their own personal views on the subject which left many to wonder why a notorious slave owner had requested the young man’s company tonight for his grand gala. The servants whispered about rumors about the young silver haired gentleman saying that whenever he appeared, Master’s personal slaves would somehow mysteriously shrink in numbers. This said, it was no surprise to anyone that servants from all stations within the house struggled to catch the young noble’s eye in hope that they would be one of the ones to be swept away and smuggled out under the cover of day to freedoms open arms.



Kendra stood frozen in place as he turned around and their eyes met from across the room. She was floored, caught in his gaze that for some reason made her feel safe. In that brief second his blue eyes shone in recognition with a sadness that didn’t seem to fit his soft features and demeanor. A small smile formed on his lips as he curtly bowed and turned away again, whispering something to the woman on his right who turned to look at her with the same overwhelming warmth and sadness. It was here that she lost sight of the one face that she knew promised freedom, the one face that she would never see again for not long after her true hell would begin in a world of silent screams and seemingly never ending darkness.



A loud thump awoke Kendra from her musings, as the man who had been talking to her collapsed into another heap on the floor passed out drunk, no surprise there. Evidentially she had put her skill of looking like she was listening when you damn well knew she wasn’t, to work because she didn’t have the slightest idea what the man had said. A few feet away, sat the man who triggered that long forgotten memory. He looked like the man and acted like him in his off handed speech and gestures. Hell, even the warmth and sadness that seemed to swirl in his eyes were nearly the same but something was off though what she couldn’t say as she approached him.



~*~*~



Ice swam in the amber liquid occasionally clanking softly against the side of the glass, Abel swirled it about lazily. The priest was not of the drinking sort though on a few rare occasions he had dabbled in liquor and justly paid the price of rumors of his drunken antics reaching the ears of his superiors but at the moment that was not the thought on his mind. Right now he was bored out of his damned mind. He had been here for nearly two hours and nothing outside of the norm of raging drunks and pushy prostitutes had occurred. It was starting to make him wonder if there was in fact some dirty dealing going on here or if this was Caterina’s revenge for the outrageous tab he racked up on his last mission. In fact most of that wasn’t even his bill. It wasn’t his fault Father Tres had taken it upon himself to nearly level the city so why should he have to take the fall for the trigger happy boy bot.



Taking a sip, Abel sighed for the hundredth time that evening as he began to once again scan over the crowd looking for anything suspicious and finding none. As his eyes wandered over the occupants along the bar he stopped transfixed upon the figure advancing towards him. She was tall, just a little bit shorter than him, with the most interesting hair he had ever seen. It was a red of sort, but not the normal everyday red you saw walking around the street. The only word that could give justice to its appearance was blood. Dark and rich to the point of being black, it shimmered in the dim lighting highlighting the crimson as she made her way closer.



“You seem out of place,” a strong voice broke Abel from his daze. In front of him stood the young woman he had been admiring, leaving him to wonder when she had come to stand before him.



Realizing that an answer was required he just barely managed to stutter out, “Huh? What?”



She smiled at his awkwardness, “I said, you look a bit out of place. You ok?” Her voice was strong but still feminine, hinted by a slight ascent of someone of the Germanic origin.



“Oh yes, I’m quite fine thank you. Sorry, I’m just a little jumpy. I’m not used to these kinds of places if you know what I mean,” Abel stuttered out, still a bit star struck by the beauty before him.



“I can tell.”



“Is it that obvious?” he asked rubbing the back of his head sheepishly.



“Just a little. My name is Kendra. What’s yours?” she questioned extending her hand towards him in a friendly manner.



Abel could only smile as he took her hand in his, “Abel, Abel Nightroad.”



“Nice name.”



“Thank you. If you forgive my boldness, you yourself seem a bit out of place here as well,” Abel said having taken note of the awkwardness that she seemed to have as she moved across the bar.



“Is it that obvious,” she smiled mischievously.



“Just a little,” Abel laughed. “Again pardon my boldness, but you do seem to be a bit higher classed than many here so why are you associating with these ruffians in a place like this?”



She laughed again signaling to the bartender to bring her a drink, in an elegant manner of someone brought up in nobility. “I’ll take that as a compliment. Yeah, it’s true I am sort of out of place here.”



“Why are you here then?”



“My friend dragged me here.”



“Oh, where is you friend then?” Abel questioned staring at her amazed by the way she held herself among a crowd of rough necks.



“Dunno,” she shrugged, “she disappeared sometime ago. I haven’t seen her in about an hour. Got eaten by the crowd I guess.”



Abel was shocked in the nonchalant way she spoke. “Aren’t you worried? I mean this place is a little rough.”



Kendra shrugged again taking a sip of her drink. “Yeah a little but she’ll pop back up in a bit. Plus she’s a lot tougher than appearance would have you think.”



“Oh?”



“Just hope she isn’t being bothered by some perverted old men. They tend to flock to her like a moth to the flame. Sad, really considering she could and probably would eat them alive if they messed with her.”



“Really now?”



“Yeah,” the young woman sighed, “oh well. She’ll survive. She’s like a weed, you chop her down she pops right back up only with teeth and claws.” Kendra giggled slightly as she took another sip envisioning little Azmaria maiming some poor old farts arm off for something as simple as looking at her.



“Sounds pleasant,” the silver haired man gulped at the description of the woman’s friend. Evidently she was not a person to be messed with.



“Very. So what is you story?”



“Huh?’



“Why are you here?” Kendra repeated making it a little simpler for the poor man.



“Oh yes,” Abel blushed at his stupidity, “ Well, I’m a traveling priest and I just stopped by here for a moment while I was on my way to the Vatican,” he lied slightly.



“Oh really? How interesting,” the redhead responded. ‘Fuck, he’s a priest. No wonder he has no money,’ Kendra thought having already investigated his pockets without his knowledge. ‘But damn if priest can look like that? Maybe I should join the church….what the hell am I thinking I wouldn’t last one day.’



“Yes. Oh would you like me to help you find your friend,” the priest asked kindly.



“Would you be so kind? The faster I find her, the faster I can get the hell out of here. Oh sorry,” she gasped covering mouth at her foul language. It wasn’t the fact that she had cursed it was that she had just cursed before a priest. ‘Nice going Kendra that earns you another level in hell.’



Able laughed at Kendra‘s reaction. “Don’t worry about it. I might be a priest but I’ve heard much worse,” he said standing up and paying his tab before motioning to Kendra to follow him.



“Hey, buddy that’s my woman,” a slurred voice called out just as a well muscled arm wrapped around Kendra’s trim waist.



“Excuse me I don’t belong to anyone and if I do, I don’t remember being informed about it. Now let me go,” Kendra retorted trying to wiggle out of the arms of the large man who held her tightly to his broad chest. He was big, sweaty, and dirty, with breath that reeked of cheap liquor, not the biggest turn on for poor Kendra who got a good whiff of it every time he took a breath.



“Yeah baby,” he cooed in her ear nearly making her gag, “hush now. Let me deal with this bastard and we’ll be on our way.”



“Hell no,” Kendra began to struggle violently against her captor, “I’m not going any fucking where with you. Not in all nine levels of hell.”



“I said hush bitch,” he barked as he glared at the priest who stood before him with a look of disgust on his face at the large man’s treatment of the young woman.



“Bitch, you want to see what a bitch is,” the redhead roared digging her elbow back into the man’s gut so hard he gasped and let her go. As soon as she was free she raced to the priest’s side.



The man made a grab, trying to recapture his lost prize but the silver haired priest stepped in front of her blocking her from him. “I have a distinct feeling that she doesn’t want to go with you,” Abel remarked, voice completely different then the one Kendra has been listening to only moments before. This voice was much firmer and held a hint of something that she could not quite name, something that had not been there when he had been a bumbling man stumbling over his own words.



“Shut up! Who asked you, you four eyed emo asshole.” Abel’s jaw tightened at the man’s words.



“Hey, leave him alone he has nothing to do with this,” Kendra interjected not happy in the least about this drunken asshole insulting the silver haired priest. She didn’t know why but it just pissed her off.



“Fuck off bitch,” the drunkard shirked making another grab at her. This time he didn’t miss. He grabbed her arm and yanked her forward violently. The force was so great that Kendra ended up face first on the floor and somewhere deep within she felt it. She could already feel the blood boiling and the familiar feeling of something inside rising, scratching at the surface begging to be set free and make the drunkard into nothing but a sad blood stain on the floor.



“Leave her alone,” Abel growled, coming to aid Kendra up and place her behind himself and out of harms way again.



The drunkard smiled evilly. Taking a hold of the collar of the priest’s coat he lifted him up only inches from his face, “What if I don’t? What you gonna do about it?”



A loud sound of thrashing echoed from the other side of the bar. A small scuffle was taking place. Kendra looked over only to see four grown men trying to carry a tiny little girl upstairs. The girl was giving them hell. Flailing both arms and kicking out both tiny legs she was giving a fight for their lives. Her tiny heeled shoes collided with one man’s face causing him to fall slightly.



She appeared to of bitten the man who had his hand over her mouth because he quickly withdrew it giving her enough time to bark out at them. “Let go of me you perverted bastards,” the tiny girl cried, her voice thick with an Irish twinge. That was when it clicked in Kendra’s fuzzy head. The black spiked hair, tiny frayed Lolita dress, matching black stockings and teen black heels combined with the enormous attitude all equaled out to one thing.



‘Azmaria?’



“Oh there she is,” Kendra threw up her hands, now completely ignoring the poor priest and her drunken assailant.



“Let go of me damn it so I can castrate your ass,” the girl shrieked grabbing a fistful of the hair from the closest person.



“Yep, that’s her,” Kendra sighed, “wait a minute that’s my line. I’ve really been a bad influence on her.”



Just as she said that another loud crash erupted, this time from the front of the bar. The door had been slammed open with such force that it nearly shattered and in marched heavily armed soldiers lead by one of the biggest men Kendra had ever laid eyes on. Covered head to toe in the most interesting armor she had ever seen he marched into the crowded bar with a large lance like weapon in hand. His mere presence demanded respect.



And in a powerful voice that echoed he bluntly stated, “Everyone stay where you are. No one leaves…”