Strike at Midnight(19)

The back gate to the shooting gallery was open, and I walked the edge of the grounds where people were already practicing archery outside. Lanes had been roped off on the grass with targets positioned at the ends, and those who were more seasoned—or just cocky—were drawn to the lanes where the targets were a good hundred meters away.

Theodore himself was on duty today, and I found him trying to help a bunch of rowdy-looking gents in loading up their crossbows.

“Hey Ted,” I said in greeting, and he looked at me as if to say I had timed this visit as bad as a donkey’s ass after breakfast.

“Hey Rella,” he replied, walking over to me. It looked like he was trying to get me away from the three guys who had just realized a female was in their midst. “Not a good time.”

“They’re here early.”

“I don’t think they’ve even been to bed yet,” he said with a sigh. “I can still smell the drink on them.”

“And you’re letting them be armed with a crossbow?”

“Hey, they paid. If they want to shoot themselves, let them carry on.”

The questions I had for Theodore were just about to leave my mouth when one of the guys came stumbling up to me and nudged Theodore out of the way.

“Hello, beautiful,” the young guy said while making a grab for my left boob. I subtly sidestepped out of his reach. “Stop moving,” he whined, then he went to grab my arms so he could pull me close. He tried to be arrogant and thrust a hand in between my legs, but the stupid bastard didn’t quite make it. Bad move.

“Yooow!” he yelped as I grabbed his hand and twisted it backward. He stumbled back when I pushed him, and that gave me the opportunity to lean across to snatch a loaded crossbow out of Theodore’s hands. I aimed it right at Gropy Boy’s head.

“I’m not very good with this thing,” I said, pretending to shake a little. All three of the younger guys stopped in their tracks and put their hands up in the air. Theodore wisely stepped out of the way. He knew exactly how good I was with it. “I’m a mere female, and I don’t know what I’m supposed to do with this,” I cried.

The crossbow dropped to the right a little and they all yelped and moved in the other direction. Then it dropped to the left and they weaved the other way. Oh, this is hilarious.

“Whoa,” I said, moving it from side to side. “I don’t know what I’m doing. It could release at any time.”

A yelp of fear came from the one on the right, and I had to bite down on my lip to stop myself from laughing. Instead, I faked tears as I dropped the crossbow enough to aim it at their family jewels. “Oh no,” I said, shaking my hand harder. “What do I do? What do I do?”

An array of shouts of “put it down,” or “point it elsewhere” escalated into a harmony of fear, and I almost lost it. The one guy looked like he was about to cry, and the other two were watching my hand like a hawk.

“I could release this catch here, maybe?”

“No!” they all three shouted in unison, and I fired the arrow so it would miss their heads by a few inches.

The one who had tried to feel me up fainted between his friends, and even they looked down in shock that he had actually done so. I handed the crossbow to Theodore and stepped closer to the two young guys still standing. The one who had cried earlier yelped and stepped backward, while the other one at least tried to pull back some of his dignity and dropped his hands.

“Do either of you know the Duke of York?” I asked them, figuring that I may as well take advantage of the fact that I had come across these idiots who were dressed well enough to move within the duke’s circles.

“Who?” the wussy one practically screamed, and I had to take a breath to curb my patience. His pitch was close to breaking my eardrums.

“The Duke of York?” I asked, very slowly this time, just in case I was speaking in a different language.

“We know of him,” the other one said. He was now looking at me like he wanted to punch me in the face. “He’s a popular guy.”

“He dropped off the scene for a while,” I said, taking a step over the guy who had fainted. “Did you notice any change in him when he returned?”

“Not really,” the angry guy said, but the other one started to stutter beside him with his hands still in the air.

“He-He was a b-bit more vocal about t-the ladies,” he said, trying to push his fear aside. I looked at his hands that were still up and he quickly pulled them down.

“What do you mean?” I asked, crossing my arms over my chest and taking another step closer.

“He always liked the ladies,” the other guy answered for him. “But this time he was more vocal about it. More than usual.”

“And you didn’t find that suspicious?”

“Look, lady,” he replied, “we all talk like that when we’re in our cups. It’s what guys do.”

“Finally found his foul mouth to fit in with you lot then, I suppose,” I said. “I’m not surprised you didn’t raise any concerns.”

“He seemed the same,” he said in weak defense.

“When was the last time you saw him?”

“We’re not his keeper, lady.”

“I never said you were. I asked you a simple question.” I tapped my head. “Did the crossbow being aimed at your face affect your brain?”