Wicked Hunt

Chapter Sixteen; Part IV

Rafe: Conclusions

He looked fatter than Rafe remembered. The extra weight had made his gout flare up again, as he limped down the last few steps. Upon reaching the bottom, he grinned widely, revealing his brown and black teeth. A thin curtain of greasy hair dangled behind his scarred ears. His usual bandana was gone, and it only showed the thinness of the hair on top of his head. Five Fingers looked old, and he looked tired, but his eyes were as bright as ever. They darted around curiously, two blue orbs twisting and turning, missing nothing.

Rafe's gaze traveled to his stubbed left hand. He'd had it chopped off when he was an adolescent, years ago, for killing a man. Had the man not been a thug himself, Phineas would have surely been executed.

"New uniforms?" Five Fingers asked and gestured with his lone had at Rafe's cloak. "I suppose being the king's lackey did always have its fair share of rewards, eh Walsh?" The Commander released the trembling man in his grip, his fingers tingling just like they did before he punched something. Or someone. He wanted to take a swing at Phineas Five Fingers, knock some of his rotten teeth out of his fat head for making Rafe chase him all the way to Hawthorn. Instead, he decided to keep his hands down.

For now.

"You got fat," he remarked. This sent Five Fingers into a fit of howling laughter. Rafe just watched him, not a smile gracing his lips. "I wasn't making a joke."

"I've missed your candor."

"Nothing to miss," Rafe informed him. "We're not friends."

"Yet, you came all this way to speak with me." He wiped an invisible tear away. "Really, I'm touched." Behind him, the Commander heard Christopher snort.

"We need to talk," Rafe cut in, getting straight to the point. "In private." He eyed the two burly men that had materialized on either side of Five Fingers from the stairs, his body guards no doubt.

"Maybe tomorrow?" Five Fingers stretched dramatically, his stubbed arm extending upward. "I'm rather tired after a long day."

"No, we talk tonight. Right here. Right now."

Five Fingers snorted. "I don't-"

"I'm not here to arrest you," Rafe jabbed.

"Well," Five Fingers remarked, rubbing his scabbed chin. "That definitely changes things."

"Assuming you haven't done anything illegal recently." Rafe took another slow step closer.

"I've been a good boy," Five Fingers assured. He dropped his good hand from his chin. Rafe could see him running his tongue over his bottom teeth. He was curious.

"'So, I might be able to be persuaded to converse with you." He snapped his fingers and held his palm out.

"I'm not paying you," Rafe hissed, boots connecting with the upper level. He smacked Five Fingers' hand back. "Consider me not beating the shit out of you payment enough," he added sweetly. Five Fingers gulped, and Rafe's eyes narrowed.

"Five minutes," Five Fingers agreed languidly, the bravado turning back on. "My room. The boys come too. Rollo, Georgie." He clapped his hand on his thigh and turned away, walking down the hallway. The lantern swung precariously from the ceiling over his head.

"Suit yourself," Rafe said dryly, eyeing one of Five Fingers' bodyguards.

"After you," Rollo or Georgie said. Rafe caught Christopher's grimace as they were separated between the two thick bodies.

Five Fingers led them down to the end of the hall and turned right. His was the first room around the corner. The door was still cracked open, and he pushed it, disappearing behind the crooked wood. The whole inn was remarkably tasteful in its simplistic design. All beige walls and dark, hardwood floor. Considering the greasy hair, town clothing, and sharp scent of body odor, Rafe wondered how Phineas could afford a room here.

Must have stolen something.

"I know what you're thinking," Five Fingers declared, spinning round the spacious, well-lit room with stone fireplace, laced curtains, and expansive bookshelf that lined the whole opposite wall.

"I highly doubt it," Rafe countered, moving into the room and crossing his arms. He studied the man's crooked nose.

"All of this," the stump was waved around, "is mine for free."

"Liar," Rafe accused evenly.

"I am Lord Jamal's honored guest." Five Fingers' voice swelled with glowing pride. His chest puffed. Rollo and Georgie pushed past Rafe, both men sitting heavily on the light blue settee next to the large window. Rafe felt Christopher step in behind him. The door was closed, silencing the outside world. Physically, Five Fingers wilted slightly. All the bravado when there were people watching outside had simmered quite a bit.

"Because of the stag? Because of what happened to you in the Shadow Wood?" Rafe asked.

"He means to offer me comfort," Five Fingers explained, swallowing. "How did you-"

"And what exactly did happen?" Rafe pressed. Christopher tensed beside him. He, like the others, had not known their true meaning for coming to Hawthorn-only that they were in pursuit of Five Fingers. "Viktor Forest told me you had some sort of 'encounter.'" His words were laced with disbelief, a challenge. He was telling Five Fingers he did not believe him.

"There was a voice!" Five Fingers shrieked, taking offense just like Rafe knew he would. Men like Phineas Five Fingers were small, insignificant creatures. They thrived on crime and infamy because it was the only place they held power. Being a thug was all the man had. Having some mystic moment with the Black Stag of legend was Phineas's way of becoming more important. He would spill the details easily, gloating about a secret only he knew.

Christopher had told Rafe this once on one of their many pursuits of Five Fingers. You could get to some men, especially this one, by stroking his ego or appealing to his victimhood. Rafe would have never come to the conclusion himself, normally just going straight for the jugular. In this instance, however, he started to see exactly what Christopher had been talking about.