Read Online The Eleventh Plague by Darren Craske - Free Book Online
Authors: Darren Craske
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feeling the knife nestled within his jacket. Its blade would taste blood before the night was through.
Cornelius Quaint steadied himself against the ship’s railings. He was looking forward to getting back to his cabin – if only he could remember where he had left it.
He fought against the wind to open the door that led inside, tripping over the raised step. He found himself at the end of a long corridor with rows of identical doors on both sides. Feeling inside his trouser pocket, he pulled out his door key and squinted at it whilst his inebriated vision tried its best to decipher the numbers embossed upon the key’s tag.
‘Is that a five…or a six?’ he mumbled to himself.
Those ales were stronger than he had thought – or perhaps it was merely the number of them that he had consumed. He thumbed his lips, bringing the tag closer to his beleaguered eyes. He decided to wait until his vision remembered what gravity looked like, and he propped himself against the corridor’s wall.
The ship was quiet. It was the early hours and most of the passengers were tucked up nicely in their bunks, the rocking of the ship sending them quickly to sleep. Only a few crewmembers were drifting around the ship like ghosts, tidying their stations, locking doors, checking safety equipment. Away from the ballroom and dining saloon and a lot closer to the passengers’ cabins, the occupation was scant – a fact that Heinrich Nadir clung to. He lurked in the shadows just beyond Quaint’s sight. He couldhear the conjuror mumbling to himself, drunkenly chastising the world for all its ills, promising to set them right in the morning.
The German smiled at how easy this was going to be.
After finding his sense of balance, Quaint then discovered that his key wouldn’t work, but when he turned the handle, he was relieved to find that he had left it unlocked. He opened the door, bouncing off the doorframe and into the cabin.
Nadir rounded the corner just as the cabin door closed shut. He grinned. Now his target was caged, in a drunken haze with nowhere to run. It almost seemed unsporting to kill him in such a state – but then he was reminded of the reward he would receive from his employers and all pity went out the window. For some reason that he was not party to, the Hades Consortium had targeted Cornelius Quaint. The order to kill had come from very high up, possibly from the inner stratum itself. That spoke volumes to the German. Killing such a high profile target gave him a chance to make a name for himself, and he would not let this moment slip through his fingers. Cornelius Quaint was going to die this night – even if Nadir had to drag him to hell himself.
Arriving outside the cabin door, he pressed his ear to it, hearing the rumbling of heavy snoring from within. His target had already fallen asleep or, more accurately, passed out. Removing his knife from his jacket, Nadir silently turned the handle and pushed open the door. He hovered in the doorway for a moment, not wanting to broadcast his entry into the room. Not that it would have mattered. His arrival could have been announced by a trumpeting fanfare and still the snoring beast would not have woken. He pushed the door closed, wincing as the latch snapped noisily into place. Stepping towards his mark, he raised his knife into the air.
‘ Guten Nacht , Herr Quaint,’ he said.
And then he launched himself.
The blade struck its target, closely followed by the German’s bodyweight. Again and again he brought the knife down, feeling his quarry flinch beneath him. Nadir thrust a pillow over his target’s head to smother the screams, and then stabbed the man’s heart to finish him off. Soon, the room was silent and still.
Silent that was apart from Nadir’s heavy panting, stringy spit clinging to his lips.
Still that was apart from the nervous twitching of the man beneath him.
Nadir lifted the pillow to take one final look at the man that would cement his name in
Cornelius Quaint steadied himself against the ship’s railings. He was looking forward to getting back to his cabin – if only he could remember where he had left it.
He fought against the wind to open the door that led inside, tripping over the raised step. He found himself at the end of a long corridor with rows of identical doors on both sides. Feeling inside his trouser pocket, he pulled out his door key and squinted at it whilst his inebriated vision tried its best to decipher the numbers embossed upon the key’s tag.
‘Is that a five…or a six?’ he mumbled to himself.
Those ales were stronger than he had thought – or perhaps it was merely the number of them that he had consumed. He thumbed his lips, bringing the tag closer to his beleaguered eyes. He decided to wait until his vision remembered what gravity looked like, and he propped himself against the corridor’s wall.
The ship was quiet. It was the early hours and most of the passengers were tucked up nicely in their bunks, the rocking of the ship sending them quickly to sleep. Only a few crewmembers were drifting around the ship like ghosts, tidying their stations, locking doors, checking safety equipment. Away from the ballroom and dining saloon and a lot closer to the passengers’ cabins, the occupation was scant – a fact that Heinrich Nadir clung to. He lurked in the shadows just beyond Quaint’s sight. He couldhear the conjuror mumbling to himself, drunkenly chastising the world for all its ills, promising to set them right in the morning.
The German smiled at how easy this was going to be.
After finding his sense of balance, Quaint then discovered that his key wouldn’t work, but when he turned the handle, he was relieved to find that he had left it unlocked. He opened the door, bouncing off the doorframe and into the cabin.
Nadir rounded the corner just as the cabin door closed shut. He grinned. Now his target was caged, in a drunken haze with nowhere to run. It almost seemed unsporting to kill him in such a state – but then he was reminded of the reward he would receive from his employers and all pity went out the window. For some reason that he was not party to, the Hades Consortium had targeted Cornelius Quaint. The order to kill had come from very high up, possibly from the inner stratum itself. That spoke volumes to the German. Killing such a high profile target gave him a chance to make a name for himself, and he would not let this moment slip through his fingers. Cornelius Quaint was going to die this night – even if Nadir had to drag him to hell himself.
Arriving outside the cabin door, he pressed his ear to it, hearing the rumbling of heavy snoring from within. His target had already fallen asleep or, more accurately, passed out. Removing his knife from his jacket, Nadir silently turned the handle and pushed open the door. He hovered in the doorway for a moment, not wanting to broadcast his entry into the room. Not that it would have mattered. His arrival could have been announced by a trumpeting fanfare and still the snoring beast would not have woken. He pushed the door closed, wincing as the latch snapped noisily into place. Stepping towards his mark, he raised his knife into the air.
‘ Guten Nacht , Herr Quaint,’ he said.
And then he launched himself.
The blade struck its target, closely followed by the German’s bodyweight. Again and again he brought the knife down, feeling his quarry flinch beneath him. Nadir thrust a pillow over his target’s head to smother the screams, and then stabbed the man’s heart to finish him off. Soon, the room was silent and still.
Silent that was apart from Nadir’s heavy panting, stringy spit clinging to his lips.
Still that was apart from the nervous twitching of the man beneath him.
Nadir lifted the pillow to take one final look at the man that would cement his name in
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