Deathmatch

Part 1.4

I scoffed. How did he know that? I grabbed the collar of his hoodie. "What are you, some kind of spy?"

"No, buddy. I'm just a guy with eyes and ears. And from one Bleeder to another, don't let your tall friend have any drinks at the tavern tonight."

I stared at him. "You think they're gonna drug him, or poison him, or something?"

He put his hands on mine, which were clutched into the fabric of his hoodie. "I think...Leo and David are the kind of men who happen to things. They don't let things happen to them. Ever." He pried my hands off, and I released him. "See ya' later, Corporal."

***

EVERETT

I sprinted back to the inn. It was almost noon.

When I stormed through the doors, Ramsey glanced back at me from the tavern bar, where he was eating lunch by himself. He had a nearly empty beer bottle next to his plate.

The look on my face made him do a double-take.

"Throw that up right now," I said, eyes bugging.

I didn't have to tell him twice. He trotted out the doors, already gagging from sticking his long fingers down his throat.

I followed him outside, making sure he heaved it all up and watching his surroundings as he did.

"Where the fuck is Anderson?" I growled.

Ramsey wiped his hand on his pants. "He said he had to go gather intel."

"Fucking useless horny bastard," I muttered. "He just left you unprotected?"

"I'm sequestered in the tavern, what more do you want? Why do you think I'm gonna be poisoned?"

"Someone tipped me off. Someone...sympathetic to our opinions. Your little musician friend."

"No shit? Fuck." He looked at his vomit on the ground, rueful. "But...I'm hungry."

I snorted. "We'll get you some food from the vendors, fatass. And no more drinking until after the fight. It'll slow your reflexes, even if it's not poisoned."

"Yeah, yeah." He perked up. "Vendors, you say?"

"Uh huh. But Ramsey, we need to find Anderson. And we all need to stay tight. The kid said Leo and David have no intention of letting you win. They moved it to a bigger venue and opened the gates so everyone could come watch. They are suddenly positive you're going to lose. They're up to no good."

Ramsey scrubbed a hand over his dark brown hair, pacing a little half-circle. Then, he smiled a smile I knew well, a smile that meant he was up to no good too. "Then let's let them think they've already won."

"What'd you have in mind?" I asked.

"You stupid fucking ginger prick!" he shouted.

I jumped in surprise.

He stomped back inside the tavern and strode up to the bar, where a barkeeper was standing. She had heard me tell Ramsey to throw up.

"Bottle of whiskey, please, miss," he said irritably.

"Ramsey, you need to stop drinking, seriously--"

"Shut the fuck up!" Ramsey cut me off.

The barkeeper grabbed a whole bottle of whiskey from behind the counter and gave it to Ramsey with shaking hands.

He fled up the stairs with it and slammed the door of his suite.

I followed. "Ramsey! What the fuck!"