Leo headed down to the main pub after his chat with Katarina. He felt great about her pregnancy, so he ordered himself a bottle of water and a plate of dinner to celebrate. It was some sort of stew on offer and it tasted good, particularly since he hadn't had anything to eat for around twelve hours.
He ate slowly, knowing fine well that if he just shoved it in his mouth in hunger, he'd regret it later. He washed down every third or fourth mouthful with a drink of spring water to give himself a moment to look around and see if he could spot anyone who might look like a good storyteller.
There was an old man in the corner, with a pipe hanging out his mouth, sitting by the fire. But he looked stern and, although he talked with two young boys who were eagerly listening to his story, he didn't look like the sort of person Leo wanted to deal with. His mission was already risky enough without trusting the wrong person.
By the time he was finished eating, he was more than pleased to see a man entering the pub and the barman beaming at him. It was the most expressive he had been with a customer all night; Leo hoped he was in luck.
He sat, mulling over his bottled water and a notepad, that he planned on using to take notes as a real writer or journalist would. And he waited.
The man spoke briefly with the barman and ordered his meal.
Leo waited for him to approach; he wasn't going to make the first move. He pretended to scribble something into his notebook.
A pint of beer clunked onto the table and the man slid into the seat opposite him. "I hear you're looking for me?" he asked, smiling pleasantly, as if he was willingly to help anyone.
Leo returned the smile. "That depends. Are you the man the barman says worked on the traveling show?" he wondered hopefully. Everything rested on this meeting going well, because if it didn't, if anyone found out he wasn't writing a book, he would be slung out of his only place of shelter and no one would trust him again.
The man nodded proudly, in the affirmative, and Leo let hope rise in his chest.
"Then you're the chap I'm looking for. I'm Leo," He held out his hand and introduced himself, as the waitress brought over the man's meal. He shook hands and tucked into his food.
"Donkor," he explained.
"Nice to meet you,"
Leo found Donkor to be quite an open, honest man, like the barman. He was hoping they would become good friends for however long it took him to find Angel's location. A man so closely connected to the traveling show was bound to know something useful.
"I'm writing a book about all the different carnivals of the world. I heard an interesting tale about your traveling show, having a young man who turned into a wolf?" he queried politely. He let his dinner guest know his cover story and just why he was asking questions about a show that no longer ran.
"That's right. Little Angel. I was dead sorry for him," Donkor lamented, before cutting into his stew.
Leo raised an eyebrow. He called him Little Angel; surely that suggested sympathy, possibly even a friendship that might have existed between the two. And if not, then it at least told him that his mate was cared for by at least one person.
"Chained up day and night, unless he was being put on show," Donkor sighed. "Don't know where they found him. Handsome kid when he started. Then...of course...his looks went a little downhill with all the traveling and the treatment," he claimed, as if it should have been obvious. But Leo didn't see anything wrong with how his mate looked now. If he was any more attractive, he wasn't sure his heart could handle it.
"Treatment?" he wondered curiously.
Donkor sighed and nodded sadly. "Oh yes. The boss-man said that he was deranged, upstairs, and he needed regular shock treatment to calm him down. Said the crowds got him all excited," he explained calmly, tapping his forehead with the end of his fork to emphasize his point.
Leo felt a stab of indignation rising at the very thought of Angel being 'deranged', but he pushed it down and tried to ignore it.
"Sad thing, he was," he sighed, sadly. "There was such life in his eyes at first. Then like everything else about him, it just faded away. In the end they had to stop showing him. He refused to turn into a wolf; he refused to do anything other than sit there,"
Leo was getting used to feeling sympathy and sadness for his mate now, but it was a strange relief to know that Donkor felt it for him too. That someone had witnessed the slow decline of health, the loss of hope and will to live.
"What a shame," he said, pretending to care much less than he really did.
"The boss said that he was 'broken' inside. That all his will was gone. Me?" he asked, rhetorically. "I think they did something to him with those shocks...sapped the life and soul right out of him," Donkor claimed with a slight whisper that had Leo convinced he had found his man. Whether he knew it or not, he had hit the nail on the head and discovered the truth. Now all he needed was to find out where Angel was and who was holding him captive. Why could wait for later.
"Is he still alive?" he asked, in an offhand sort of way, as if it would be an interesting notation to his book. In reality, he wanted to know how much Donkor knew and if he would talk.
The man across from him paused, and seemed to consider the question. "Last I heard, he was being kept locked up for his own good. And, of course, the safety of others. No telling what a deranged man/wolf thing will do to folks, is there?" he asked with a look that said it was obvious to one and all what would really happen.
"No. I suppose not," Leo agreed, though he felt a wave of nausea and fatigue sweep over him. He was exhausted and Donkor didn't have any new information. So he prodded further. "What about the man who ran the show? The boss? Who is he and where might I find him?" he wondered.
"Oh, now you stay away from him. He's not for the likes of you," he told him, with no uncertainty. "He's one of them rich folk from Spain or somewhere like that. Real piece of work too," Donkor scolded him for even asking such a question, his brow creasing. Then, to Leo's surprise, he leant over the table and whispered. "I heard that he once cut someone's tongue out, just because he was afraid they would tell the location of his secret hideout," he claimed.
He decided that he'd heard enough. "Really? How interesting. You won't even give me a name?" he smiled as he asked, playing the insistent journalist. But Donkor closed up.
"Nope. More than my life's worth to get mixed back in with that lot. You keep your nose clean, my boy. You're better than the likes of that," he warned him gently.
Leo decided to take that warning on board. It was never clear what was important and what wasn't these days. He rose from his seat and patted Donkor on the shoulder. "Thank you. You've been a real help," he said, with a smile.
"I've not told you anything useful," he protested, as if he still had much more to say. But Leo couldn't stay. His weariness was getting so bad that he half expected to drop where he was.
"Not tonight. I'm afraid I'm very tired...traveling, you know," he apologised. "Would you care to join me for dinner tomorrow night? My treat?" he made the offer, knowing fine well that the barman would talk of his generosity to such a close friend.
"Oh...well, I'm supposed to be meeting my brother for dinner tomorrow. But you might want to see him too," Donkor exclaimed suddenly, brightening to the idea. "He came to the show lots of times. He might have more information for you, from the customers point of view," he suggested a route that Leo hadn't really wanted to take.
There had been far too many customers to count, watching Angel suffering and not doing anything about it. But he guessed that couldn't be helped.
"That sounds like a plan. So tomorrow night, we'll all have dinner together, say around six?" he clarified the arrangements and Donkor nodded that it sounded fine. "Thank you," Leo smiled wearily and pulled out a few notes from his back pocket, before placing them into the top pocket of Donkor's shirt. "A little something to say thank you. This is such an important project to me. I appreciate you taking the time to talk to me. And I'll pay for your meal," he said, wanting nothing more than to get out of that room and into his bed.
"Well...thank you, Leo," Donkor beamed at him and he waved off the gratitude. The poor guy was being used, but didn't know it.
Leo figured it was better to be used to free someone than it was to be used to keep them in confinement. If Donkor had a problem with that, he would use the guilt card. But right now, he wanted bed, sleep and a dreamless night.