Awake, and carving a pipe from a corncob, the next patient merely had two broken legs that were setting nicely. Sullivan set the bones himself, and made the cast from leather belts and kindling. Pretending to be a healer was his easiest disguise. It was impossible to torture people for years and not to learn something about how to keep them alive. Being zealous in the questioning was a beginner’s mistake. Cut off a man’s hand, and he would bleed to death in minutes. Ah, but bind the arm with twine to retard the circulation, then cut off the hand, and your patient could live for days. Any damn fool could stab to death a man chained to the wall, but it took an artist to teasingly peel off every inch of skin and still keep the prisoner alive and sane.
The door to the kitchen eased open, and a woman rushed into the dining room. Adjusting the moist bandage on a burned face, Sullivan noted her arrival with interest. Few of the locals seemed to be in any hurry these days. It was as if the war had drained them of not only their strength, but also their very will to live.
The newcomer was plump and full breasted, highly attractive for her species. She looked over the hospital with obvious distaste, nose wrinkling at the pungent stink. Sullivan didn’t like the smell, either. But it was either suffer the stink, or open the windows and have the patients freeze to death at night. Personally, he preferred the latter. Extremes of temperature meant little to his kind.
With a start, she saw him looming over a patient and hurried over, holding her skirts in a fist to keep the cloth from touching the dead and dying.
“Sullivan,” she whispered, coming close. “They know! Run for the hills.”
Placing aside the sharpened piece of reed he was using to drain a pus-filled wound, Sullivan slowly turned his head. Her eyes were lovely, and as cold and hard as his own.
“May I beg pardon?” he asked politely. “My name is Daniel Lissman and—”
“They know who you are, and why you are here!” she whispered urgently, coming closer. “They call me Terry and I work in the gaudy house. Last night I heard a couple of the troopers talking. They’re going to claim the baron’s wife, Tabitha, is feeling poorly, fell off a horse or something, and when you go into that room, you ain’t coming out!”
“Indeed,” Sullivan murmured, stuffing his hands into his pockets and thumbing back the hammers on the two snub-nosed revolvers. “And why do you call me, what was the name…Sylvester?”
Glancing over a shoulder, Terry spoke fast. “Cut the shit. I also fucked Overton’s men when they were here, and aside from Ryan, you were the only thing they feared. Big guy, no hair, likes to do the dead.”
“Really now!”
She sidled closer, the thick smell of stale perfume and sweat radiating from her body. “I saw you last night at the graveyard, so don’t tell me different.”
Calmly, Sullivan debated the possibilities. This could be a trap by the baron to trick him into revealing himself. Or it could be the truth, a whore looking to connect to somebody more powerful for a better life.
Slowly standing to his full height, the mutie looked down at the big woman and spread his arms in a friendly manner.
“This is an interesting tale,” Sullivan said, resting a hand on her shoulder. She trembled at the contact, as he increased the pressure until she thought the bones would break.
“We should discuss it in private,” he added, lifting the woman a few inches off the floor and carrying her away.
Terry tried to speak, but the pain was too great.
Moving quickly, Sullivan headed for the door to the basement. Once out of sight, he could question this Terry thoroughly and learn the truth.
“Wait, Healer!” a man shouted.
Only a yard from the door, Sullivan stopped and turned, hugging Terry close to him as if they were close friends.
Maneuvering through the maze of cots, a brown shirt was rushing toward them. He was armed, but the blaster was holstered. Sullivan relaxed a little and smiled, his mind racing with new possibilities. Unexpectedly, Terry slid her arm about his waist and shook her torso to make her ample breasts jiggle. She was playing his lover. How very interesting.
Page: 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17 18 19 20 21 22 23 24 25 26 27 28 29 30 31 32 33 34 35 36 37 38 39 40 41 42 43 44 45 46 47 48 49 50 51 52 53 54 55 56 57 58 59 60 61 62 63 64 65 66 67 68 69 70 71 72 73 74 75 76 77 78 79 80 81 82 83 84 85 86 87 88 89 90 91 92 93 94 95 96 97 98 99 100 101 102 103 104 105 106 107 108 109 110 111 112 113 114 115 116 117 118 119 120 121 122 123 124 125 126 127