Read Online Noir by Jacqueline Garlick - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Jacqueline Garlick
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accosted.
“Well, well, look what we ’ave ’ere.” His gaze tugs through the holes in my chain-mail chemise. I look down and up, embarrassed. I pinch my collar shut, hot with the feeling of being violated.
He twirls one end of his glossy waxed moustache to a point matching the other, and winks at me. A swell of sickness rises in me. “’Oo’s the girl?” he says through fat, chafed, and freckled lips.
“None of your business,” C.L. snaps, gun still at his neck.
“Oh, come now. She cain’t be with the likes of you,” the ringmaster laughs. “So, hows about you tellin’ me who you protecting ’ere? What’s a little wanker like you doing with a slippery little sod like this?”
“Don’t call her that!” C.L.’s head spins.
I stumble back, feeling faint, weak in the knees. What did he just call me?
“Whatchu gonna do about it, ’it me?” The ringmaster pokes C.L. in the armpits with the end of his gun. “Wif these little stubs.” He laughs and spins him around, shoving him toward the freak train. “Go on, get over there with the others, where you belong.”
“No!” I shout, stepping in between them.
“ Oh , she can speak.” The ringmaster lowers his voice. “And she’s a feisty one, too.” He sashays toward me, wobbly smile pitching over his two remaining good teeth. Last night’s dinner takes a turn in my stomach. “I like that.”
The sleazy timbre of his voice crawls up my spine.
“Leave ’er alone!” C.L. shouts.
With a quick turn of his hips, he throws a leg into the air, clipping the ringmaster in the side of the chin with his heel. The ringmaster’s jaw rocks to one side. The freaks in the train jump to their feet and cheer, wagons rocking left and right as they whoop and yelp and moan. I can’t tell if they’re for or against us. Their gruesome, moonlit faces press out between the bars.
“Look out!” C.L. shouts at me as the ringmaster’s gun flies from his hand. It tumbles slowly through the air and hits the ground with a thump, dislodging a bullet I narrowly escape before it bounces erratically off Clementine’s gear and buries itself in a tree trunk behind me. The speed of the bullet has clipped the curl that hangs next to my cheek. I stare as the freshly sheared tuft flutters to rest on the ground at my feet.
The ringmaster’s head whips up, his eyes aglow with revenge. He lunges, snatching C.L. by the throat, lifting him slightly off the ground.
C.L. chokes and kicks. The ringmaster tightens his grip. “You dare to challenge me !” His eyes flash. “I should whip you for running off the way you did!” C.L. gags as the ringmaster locks on his windpipe. “In fact, I should kill you now I ’ave the chance!”
“Don’t!” I hit him. “Let him go! Let him go !” I jump on his back.
C.L. fights, trying to reach the ground with his toes, wriggling and gurgling, the skin on his face turning blue. I pound the ringmaster’s head from behind.
“Get off me !” He grabs for my knee and flings me aside.
I hit the ground hard and scramble to my feet, his hold still tight on C.L. Spying the gun on the ground, I stoop to get it, but the ringmaster kicks it away.
“Do you really think I’m that stupid?” he says in a low, scratchy voice, still strangling C.L. His gaze sweeps over my body. He ogles every slope and valley on the way down and up. “But perhaps I should reconsider.” He hesitates, leering at C.L. and then back at me. “After all, you did bring me a lovely gift. It’d be rude of me not to open it.”
His eyes meet my breasts, and I gag in my throat. I launch forward and spit in his face.
“You little—” He tosses C.L. aside and comes at me with the speed of a jaguar, twisting me into his arms. C.L. falls to the ground, gasping for air, his head connecting hard with a rock. “Now,” the ringmaster says, his breath at the back of my neck. “I think it’s time to unwrap me present.” He reaches for me and I duck, slamming us
“Well, well, look what we ’ave ’ere.” His gaze tugs through the holes in my chain-mail chemise. I look down and up, embarrassed. I pinch my collar shut, hot with the feeling of being violated.
He twirls one end of his glossy waxed moustache to a point matching the other, and winks at me. A swell of sickness rises in me. “’Oo’s the girl?” he says through fat, chafed, and freckled lips.
“None of your business,” C.L. snaps, gun still at his neck.
“Oh, come now. She cain’t be with the likes of you,” the ringmaster laughs. “So, hows about you tellin’ me who you protecting ’ere? What’s a little wanker like you doing with a slippery little sod like this?”
“Don’t call her that!” C.L.’s head spins.
I stumble back, feeling faint, weak in the knees. What did he just call me?
“Whatchu gonna do about it, ’it me?” The ringmaster pokes C.L. in the armpits with the end of his gun. “Wif these little stubs.” He laughs and spins him around, shoving him toward the freak train. “Go on, get over there with the others, where you belong.”
“No!” I shout, stepping in between them.
“ Oh , she can speak.” The ringmaster lowers his voice. “And she’s a feisty one, too.” He sashays toward me, wobbly smile pitching over his two remaining good teeth. Last night’s dinner takes a turn in my stomach. “I like that.”
The sleazy timbre of his voice crawls up my spine.
“Leave ’er alone!” C.L. shouts.
With a quick turn of his hips, he throws a leg into the air, clipping the ringmaster in the side of the chin with his heel. The ringmaster’s jaw rocks to one side. The freaks in the train jump to their feet and cheer, wagons rocking left and right as they whoop and yelp and moan. I can’t tell if they’re for or against us. Their gruesome, moonlit faces press out between the bars.
“Look out!” C.L. shouts at me as the ringmaster’s gun flies from his hand. It tumbles slowly through the air and hits the ground with a thump, dislodging a bullet I narrowly escape before it bounces erratically off Clementine’s gear and buries itself in a tree trunk behind me. The speed of the bullet has clipped the curl that hangs next to my cheek. I stare as the freshly sheared tuft flutters to rest on the ground at my feet.
The ringmaster’s head whips up, his eyes aglow with revenge. He lunges, snatching C.L. by the throat, lifting him slightly off the ground.
C.L. chokes and kicks. The ringmaster tightens his grip. “You dare to challenge me !” His eyes flash. “I should whip you for running off the way you did!” C.L. gags as the ringmaster locks on his windpipe. “In fact, I should kill you now I ’ave the chance!”
“Don’t!” I hit him. “Let him go! Let him go !” I jump on his back.
C.L. fights, trying to reach the ground with his toes, wriggling and gurgling, the skin on his face turning blue. I pound the ringmaster’s head from behind.
“Get off me !” He grabs for my knee and flings me aside.
I hit the ground hard and scramble to my feet, his hold still tight on C.L. Spying the gun on the ground, I stoop to get it, but the ringmaster kicks it away.
“Do you really think I’m that stupid?” he says in a low, scratchy voice, still strangling C.L. His gaze sweeps over my body. He ogles every slope and valley on the way down and up. “But perhaps I should reconsider.” He hesitates, leering at C.L. and then back at me. “After all, you did bring me a lovely gift. It’d be rude of me not to open it.”
His eyes meet my breasts, and I gag in my throat. I launch forward and spit in his face.
“You little—” He tosses C.L. aside and comes at me with the speed of a jaguar, twisting me into his arms. C.L. falls to the ground, gasping for air, his head connecting hard with a rock. “Now,” the ringmaster says, his breath at the back of my neck. “I think it’s time to unwrap me present.” He reaches for me and I duck, slamming us
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