Strike at Midnight(30)

He was a little over four feet tall with a pointed nose and large eyes that looked almost unnatural. He moved around like a weasel on the lookout for payout, and you always had to watch your back—and pocket—when working with Pinocchio. Or “Pino,” which I preferred to call him. “Pinocchio” was too much of a mouthful when he was being pushed against a wall with my hand against his throat. That tended to happen more often than you would think.

He liked to drink in The Pirate Ship because for some reason they looked out for him there. It may have been because it was owned by the one person who Pinocchio would never dream of double-crossing, and I understood why.

Imelda Hook was the daughter of the renowned pirate, Captain Hook. He was known as such because of the hook he had in place of a hand, and because of his reputation of gutting people with it. Thankfully he was now dead, but his daughter, Imelda, had capitalized on his rep and opened The Pirate Ship. The apple didn’t fall far from the tree if you know what I mean…

It was an actual ship, believe it or not, but it was permanently docked for drinkers to frequent as a bar. It had been done out as such, and you kind of got used to the subtle movement of it after a few tankards of ale.

The noise from the bar hit me as soon as I pulled Ginger to a stop in front of it. Marcel would kill me if he found out I had brought her down here, but what he didn’t know wouldn’t hurt him. He would hurt me if anything happened to her, though—or at least try—so I whistled to a couple of kids who were out way past their bedtime.

They came running over, all scruffy and dirty in clothes that barely fit them. They were most likely strays, like Rem, but then I knew the caliber of some of the parents down here, so I couldn’t be certain. They were probably drinking in the ship and had left their kids outside. To them, it was the norm.

The kids’ hungry eyes were hooked on the silver coin I had taken out of my pocket and tossed into the air. I continued to throw it up and catch it as I spoke.

“If my horse is still out here and happy when I return, then I’ll give you one of these. Each.”

“Deal!” they shouted in unison, and I put the coin back into my pocket.

“Good,” I said, handing them the reins. “And that’s all I have” —it wasn’t, but they didn’t need to know that— “so don’t go giving anyone the idea that I’m flush. Otherwise, no money for you, and they will get hurt. Got it?”

“Got it,” they said excitedly.

“And don’t touch the crossbow,” I said as I remembered I had mounted that onto the harness before I’d left. “It’s enchanted to kill anyone other than me.” It wasn’t, but they didn’t need to know that, either.

“Got it, lady,” they said, their attention already on Ginger. They had started to pet her and talk to her in silly voices, and she was reveling in it.

There was a ramp at the entrance to the ship, so I walked up it and into a wooden abundance of drunken revelry. Ahoy and all that crap.

Pinocchio wasn’t hard to find, and I took the vacant seat opposite him at a table in the corner. He didn’t notice me do so, as he was too busy watching a serving wench dance on a table with a guy who could barely stand. He was laughing and cheering them on, until the point where he caught me out of the corner of his eye.

He jumped so hard when he realized I was there that some of his beer spilled onto the table.

“Rella!” he said, trying to look happy to see me. He wasn’t, which was good. He was still scared of me. A girl could use that.

“Hey, Pino. What’s up?”

“The usual, you know. Not much.”

The serving wench and her partner had crashed down onto the floor, helpless with laughter.

“I can see that.”

“H-How can I h-help?” he stammered, holding onto his beer with both hands. He took a big gulp of it while keeping those wide eyes on me.

“Do you know of a guy who may go by the name of Billy? Dark hair, tanned skin, a scar on his hand in the shape of an X?”

“No,” he said straight away, and I saw a rare honesty in his eyes.

“Then ask around for me, will you? I need to find this guy, and I’ll pay for any information I can get.”

“How much?” he asked, and all innocence was lost from his face as the greed took over. I just raised my eyebrow in reply. “All in good time, of course,” he said, all innocence once again. He took another gulp of his beer. “I’ll ask around.”

“Thanks,” I said, standing up. The rocking motion of the boat just wasn’t the same when I was sober. “Get word to me at Melodies if you hear anything.”

“Will do, will do!” he said, putting up his thumbs, and I could practically see his mind trying to work out how he could screw me over on this.

“You remember your arm, Pino?” I asked, and his face paled as I mimicked holding his arm and snapping it in half. “Craaaaack,” I drew out, and then winked at him. “I don’t fuck around, and I don’t expect to be fucked around. Are we clear?”

“As crystal,” he said, looking a bit green now. It was either the rocking of the ship, my threat, or a bit of both. But it was enough to convince me that my threat had gotten through to him.

“See you around.”

“Yeah,” he said distractedly as he went back to his drink. “See you.”