Vengeance Upturned

Vengeance Upturned - Chapter 8

Etta sat on the same stool as the night before, leaning back and resting her elbows behind her, on the scarred wooden counter, while surveying the patrons, recognizing faces from the previous night and scrutinizing new ones. The dinner she had eaten was just as splendid and fulfilling as it had been yesterday. Karl, the drunk, stayed at bay, but glared at Etta every time their eyes met. She smirked in return and raised her mug of ale in a mocking salute.

Etta wondered if Noah would seek her out again. She’d caught a glimpse of him during the day, when she ventured outside, but she kept to the shadows, not wanting to distract him from his duties toward Martha. She avoided them all, for what was the point in bonding more if she were to leave them soon, or the other way around. And she hadn’t wanted to disrupt their routine.

Guilt and regret gnawed at her, that mayhap, she should have gone and wished them a good day. Martha deserved at least that much respect… Noah… Noah mayhap more after she had used him so last night. Even though he was willing, even though he knew Etta wasn’t able to give him more, he came to her willingly and Etta had seen the spark of hope in his eyes after their passionate encounter, hope that something more than a mere physical bond might come to be between them.

Etta allowed a faint smile when she realized that Noah harbored a romantic streak. A heroic romantic streak. And he was skilled; for someone as young as him, Noah was a very selfless lover.

Ah, sweet Noah…Etta’s smile waned and she sighed remorsefully, thinking how she would miss his innocent teasing and unabashed flirting.

A huddled man entered the inn, the hood of his cloak pulled low over his forehead. He scanned the room, eyes skimming over all the faces, even Etta’s. For a moment, she got a glimpse of those scrutinizing eyes, and they seemed familiar, with a deep scar cutting through his left eyebrow, over his eyelid, and down his sunken cheek.  Etta scraped her teeth over her own scar, an uneasy feeling raising the hairs on the back of her neck, tingling along her spine. The man gave an imperceptive nod in her direction and scuttled into a far corner of the inn.

Etta glanced over her shoulder at Harold. “Is that him?”

“No. Not him. Just a fella’ ordering a drink,” he said, and turned back to filling up some pints.

Releasing a sigh, Etta took a gulp of her own drink and faced forward again. She caught the hooded stranger stealing furtive glances at her. When she unconsciously wrapped her hand around the hilt of her tachi, the man suddenly became very interested in his own fingers, entwined and placed atop the table. Just as Etta was about to get up and approach him, the door swung open again, and another man stepped inside.

“That’s your guy,” Harold said behind her, and Etta nodded in acknowledgment.

The man turned his head toward the bar, and Etta guessed Harold pointed her out just before the man’s eyes settled on her. He essayed a laid-back and dimpled smile, but Etta read beyond his easygoing demeanor, stripping it away and finding only an unreadable and cold nature. When Etta narrowed her gaze at him, the smile faded and he gave a slight conceding bow. He moved toward Etta, and she couldn’t help but raise her eyebrows at his prominent limp. The grin he flashed at Etta’s surprise was very much honest, but Etta just shrugged in return.

“So,” the man said in a soothing, deep voice. Up close, Etta could see the creases at the corner of his slightly downturned eyes, speaking of a man easy to smile and with a love for a good laugh, and those warm dark orbs oozed with an aura of calmness. His gilded curly hair added to the whole easygoing and friendly demeanor.  

“So,” Etta responded as she sat straighter on her stool, cursing her short dangling legs, making her seem as if she were a mere child. But then again, it often worked to her advantage because people tended to underestimate her, even though her features spoke otherwise.