Seducing the Sheriff of Nottingham, page 34
part #5 of A Kinda Fairytale Series
All in all, it was a logical plan.
Except a natural consequence of ruining Marion’s reputation was Marion’s reputation got ruined. Watching the hypocritical Nottinghamers silently judge her pissed him off. Marion had done nothing wrong. Nothing at all. If they wanted to see someone actually committing Badness in the world, he’d be happy to offer up-close and personal demonstrations with a rope and gallows.
As a result, his execution list just got longer and longer.
And the trials were happening faster and faster.
“I just love pissing these bastards off.” Marion said gleefully. Her arm was once again looped through his, as they walked. Nicholas didn’t do a thing to dissuade her. Why should he? “I think I’ve ruined the kingdom’s whole notion of Maidenhood.”
Nicholas grunted, his gaze on a cobbler who was watching Marion intently. Imagining all the things Nicholas was doing to her, up at the castle. No doubt liking the idea that she was being forced to submit to a rock-monster. It was all over his face. The cobbler rubbed at the front of his apron, where an erection was forming, watching Marion’s ass in her stolen pants. Wanting what belonged to Nicholas.
The cobbler suddenly realized he was being watched by the Sheriff of Nottingham. He paled and quickly tried to dart away, down a dirty alleyway. Too late. His name was on the list.
Nicholas glanced at Quarry over his shoulder.
Twenty seconds later, the cobbler was being yanked off the street, with stone hands wrapped around his neck. Another guilty verdict.
Marion had no clue justice was happening all around her. “I don’t like birds.” She said with the randomness that he loved about her. She was always so unpredictable. The May Day Queen crown was perched on her head, the rhinestones twinkling. Nicholas loved that, too. She looked adorable in hats. “Well, except for the parrot sommelier I’ve hired for our reception. He wears a little tuxedo and picks incredible wine pairings. Isn’t that cute? He’s expensive, but so worth it.”
“I’m sure King Richard would agree, if he was alive to get the bill.”
Marion nodded happily. “But anyway, ordinary birds are not my thing. I don’t get why the people of this neighborhood don’t do something about all the damn owls.”
She had a point. The buildings in the Barn Owl District were, unsurprisingly, covered in barn owls. The creatures nested in the damaged rooflines and the crumbling facades of the ancient structures, filling the street with feathers and droppings. The smell was rancid, even for Nottingham.
“There’s no money to get rid of them.” He told her. “There’s no money for anything in the whole kingdom, but this is one of the poorest spots of all. All the taxes that would’ve been used to capture the birds went into Hood’s pockets.”
“Speaking of which… Did you know Richard gave the gardens at my house a special tax exemption? I wanted to ask you about it yesterday. It helped sell the estate really fast, but I never technically applied for that thing. I didn’t even know it was a thing, before I got a letter telling me I didn’t have to pay.”
“There are a lot of arcane tax laws in Nottingham.” He shrugged, watching the barn owls. "And your gardens are lovely, Marion.”
“I know, but… it’s strange, right?”
“Not as strange as you dragging me to this birdcage to speak to a man I hate.” He’d been complaining about the trip all morning, but she wasn’t listening. “Pinocchio is a liar. Anything he tells you, believe the opposite. This whole thing is a waste of time.”
“What does he lie about?”
“Everything important.” Nicholas shook his head, hating this whole plan. “He’s a heartless, soulless beast.”
“Because he was originally carved from wood? That’s not fair, Nick. You were originally carved from rock, and you have a heart and a soul.”
Maybe I don’t. Maybe that’s why I never found my purpose. Maybe I’m just rock, with no heart and soul to commit to anything, at all.
Nicholas shook aside the depressing thoughts. His reverse conscience was feeling morose now. Lately, it hadn’t been sure what to tell him or how to feel. It was odd. “It’s not that Pinocchio had to work to become really real. It’s how he did it. That’s what makes him heartless and soulless.”
“What did he do that was so Bad?”
Boulder met Nicholas’ eyes and he gave a small shake of his head, dissuading him from telling Marion all the details. He was right. Those images didn’t need to be in her head.
What Pinocchio did was… terrible. Beyond terrible. The gargoyles at least partially understood why he’d done it, though, which made it even more terrible.
If there was one bedtime dream of every gargoyle child, it was to become a real boy. Nicholas had researched the idea well into adulthood, the same way he’d researched ways to break True Love bonds. With frantic desperation and false hope. For a time, he’d convinced himself that if he could only turn into a human, he’d have a shot with Marion.
It had been a doomed idea, for many reasons. Not the least of which was the amount of distilled Badness it took to enact such a powerful spell. And the deals you had to make to acquire that kind of dark magic. And the devastation it inevitably wrought in its wake.
To get a wish that big granted, you had to give things up. Things that you couldn’t get back again. The things that meant the very most to you. There was always a price. And Nicholas had instinctively known it would be far too high.
Pinocchio had willingly paid it, though.
He’d gained humanity through inhuman means. Because of that, the gargoyles were both repelled and fascinated by the man. Pinocchio went farther than any of them were prepared to go. Seeing him reminded them of why they chose to remain as they were. But it also made them question what they would be willing to trade, if they were ever offered the opportunity.
In the abstract, it was easy to say you’d never give into temptation. That you were too smart to be fooled by some evil-doer offering a bargain. That you would never risk what you loved the most. …But, there was always that kernel of doubt.
None of the men liked to visit Pinocchio, because he made them question what choices they’d make, if they ever had the chance to choose a new destiny.
Marion’s eyes traced over Nicholas’ expression and whatever she saw there must have told her enough. “I see.” She said quietly.
She didn’t. Not fully. Nicholas hoped she never did.
Marion cleared her throat, glancing around her protective ring of gargoyles. They were all abnormally quiet, brooding about Pinocchio.
With the Wraith still on the loose, Nicholas was taking no chances with Marion’s safety. He’d brought all six of his top lieutenants on this mission. Not that he could’ve left them behind, even if he’d wanted to. The gargoyles had just shown up this morning, like it was understood they were coming along.
They formed a loose circle around Marion, as they moved through the streets. Clearing her path, without any orders being given. The townsfolk might glare and mutter, but none of them got within four yards of her. All the men knew Marion was the only priority now. Their loyalty and strength had swung behind the woman faster than Nicholas could ever have imagined. Anything that came at Marion would have to get through all of them.
She didn’t seem to notice that she was shielded by a wall of living stone. “You know,” she said casually, as if trying to lighten the mood, “tomorrow you’re going to marry a rich woman, Nick. I have the low-down on every fad and invention coming out, for a long time. Time travel seriously helps with stock picks.”
“And sports gambling. Marvin Wolf is the player to bet on, as I recall. He’s very handsome and charming.” Nicholas was still disgruntled over her praise of the man.
“Marrok, not Marvin. And yes, the Big, Bad Wolf is probably the best looking guy in the Four Kingdoms.”
Nicholas grunted.
“Otherwise, Marrok’s not my type, at all, though.” Marion went on, wrinkling her nose. “Always smiling and talking and making people like him…” She gave a mock shudder. “It’s just a nightmare. I could never be serious about a handsome man who isn’t adorably antisocial and into hanging peasants as a hobby. I have standards, you know.”
Against his will, Nicholas’ mouth curved.
“Anyway, I was thinking that my burgeoning fortune should buy us the nicest house on Neverland Beach. We need a place of our own, right?”
Nicholas would die for just the chance of that.
“So, as long as we avoid that rabid bitch Tinkerbelle and her blood feud with Thumbelina, everything should be great.” She frowned a bit, momentarily lost in thought. “Actually, we might be able to pick up property cheaper, after the massacre. Shit. When does that happen? Like two years from now?”
“Massacre?”
Marion shrugged and kept talking. “Anyway, we’ll soon be swimming in money and covered in sand, precious-pie. I have it all figured out. We just gotta catch a murderer first.” She paused, looking around the Barn Owl District. “Oh, and I have to eviscerate this fucking kingdom, of course. But, that shouldn’t take long.”
All the gargoyles were listening, now. They didn’t care about Nottingham, but they certainly cared that Nicholas might be leaving Nottingham. He could see it in their faces and it surprised him. He’d stayed distant from them, but they liked him anyway.
…And he was fairly sure he liked them back.
Marion casually looked around at the other men, as if their worried expressions were only to be expected. “You guys are coming with us, right?” She offered, like she already knew the answer. “It’s going to be a big house. Plenty of room for Nick’s family. I have it all planned.”
As a chorus, the gargoyles exhaled in relief.
“We’re coming.” Rockwell said, happiness in his voice. “I did a visualization exercise about this and willed it into being, you know.”
The others were already muttering amongst themselves about what they should pack for life in a tropical paradise.
Nicholas blinked.
“Awesome.” Marion shined a smile at all of them. It was brighter than the fake gems in her beloved plastic crown. “Hey, should we get a pool? Do you need one at the beach?”
“We need one.” Oore told her with total surety.
“We’ll have the ocean.” Boulder argued, probably just to argue. “Why do we need a pool?”
“Salt water. Fresh water.” Oore retorted, weighing his hands up and down like a scale. “Do you only want to have one?”
Boulder frowned, as if that possibility did indeed sound like a tragic fate.
“Both.” Marion nodded wisely, also persuaded by Oore’s logic.
Everyone else seemed to agree.
Gravol slung an arm around Marion’s shoulder, nearly crushing her with his puppy-like exuberance and sheer size. Nicholas started to push him away, but Marion just laughed and let Gravol drag her along. Cragg began expounding on the virtues of personal bowling alleys in a house. Rockwell was brainstorming landscaping options for their new island estate. Quarry grabbed some other son of a bitch who looked at Marion wrong, not even waiting for Nicholas to give the command.
This was either very Good or very Bad.
If Marion changed her mind and broke the engagement, it wouldn’t just be Nicholas’ heart she shattered. There would be no recovery for any of them. Marion gave all the gargoyles hope. Taking that away would be catastrophic and Nicholas wasn’t sure he could stop it from happening.
He didn’t fully understand why she was with him in the first place. So, how could he convince her to stay?
“Maid Marion!” Alan A. Dale came jogging up, trying to worm his way through the barrier of gargoyles surrounding her. Cragg shoved him back. Alan didn’t let it dissuade him. Weasels were agile creatures. “Can I get a comment from you about the rumors?” He called, his beady eyes fixed on her.
“What rumors?” Marion shot him a frown.
“About your mother and King Jonathan.” Alan adjusted his glasses on his furry nose, his phone at the ready to jot down notes. “Speculation about their affair has resurfaced, now that we know King Jonathan had a lovechild…”
Marion cut him off. “My mother did not have an affair with Jonathan! Are you out of your mind? She and my father were True Loves! No one sleeps with another man when they have a True Love.”
Nicholas winced.
“It’s well known the former duchess and King Jonathan were ‘best friends.’” Alan added air quotes around the words. “She advised him about everything. I have pictures to prove how much time they spent together. Holidays. Birthdays. Picnics. He’s always there at the Huntingdon estate.”
“Jonathan was my father’s cousin, you moron. Of course, he was in family photos.”
Nicholas didn’t like the reporter bothering Marion, but he also didn’t want to slaughter the weasel right in front of her. It didn’t seem like something even a creatively villainous groom should do the day before the wedding. “Do you want me to arrest him for harassment?” He asked quietly. “The dungeon is getting full, but I can always make room.”
One way or another.
She shook her head, because she only ever counted on herself to solve problems. The idiot other-Nicholas and his words of wisdom at the altar were apparently to blame for that. No matter the timeline, Nicholas could be relied on to say the wrong thing. “I can handle this, turnip blossom. I’ll give him a quote, if it keeps him from making up lies about my mother.”
“Nottingham’s Naughtiest News doesn’t print lies!” Alan objected, still trying to get closer to her. This time Rockwell kept him at bay. Alan darted around to the other side of the gargoyle wall. “We thoroughly vet sources and investigate every detail of our stories.”
“You once did an exposé on how Cinderella was really a zombie stripper.”
Alan glanced right, then left, then leaned in closer. “Off the record? I’ve heard things about Cindy and those mice.” He told her meaningfully. “That stripper story is completely plausible.”
Marion rolled her eyes. “Look, my mother was never pregnant with King Jonathan’s secret lovechild, if that’s what you’re insinuating. She was faithful to my father. They were very much in love. I am her only offspring. That’s my response to the so-called rumors. Are we done?”
Alan readied his pen. “So, you’re denying that the old duke hid your mother’s illegitimate affair-baby away? That he forged a teeny iron mask to prevent the kid from ever taking the throne?”
Marion’s lips pressed together and she glanced up at the mountainous gargoyle beside her. “Gravol, would you do me a favor?”
“Sure, Marion!”
“Smoosh that annoying weasel if he ever publishes a word of that nonsense, okay?”
Gravol smiled guilelessly. “Heck, I can smoosh him right now.” He took a step towards Alan and the whole sidewalk seemed to shift under his colossal weight.
Alan’s gaze widened behind the lens of his glasses and he took off running.
Gravol pouted. “He got away. Want me to chase him?”
“No thanks, buddy. You dealt with him perfectly.” Marion patted his arm and grinned up at Nicholas. See? Handled.”
“It would be no problem to hang Alan.” Nicholas assured her, because it really was a better option. “I already have the gallows.”
“Nope, I believe in freedom of the press. …So long as they’re writing mean stories about other people.” She stopped in front of Pinocchio’s magical relics shop. “Ah, here we are!”
The large sign over the door read, “The Terrible Dogfish.” It still shocked Nicholas that Pinocchio had chosen that name. The little wooden fucker truly was demented. The dogfish had stolen away everything that should’ve mattered to him. You’d think he’d want to avoid remembering it, every time he passed through the door.
Or maybe he refused to forget it, because it would mean forgetting them, too.
Nicholas suppressed a shudder.
Marion was oblivious to the sign’s deeper meaning. “Cute whale.” She decided easily, glancing up at the painted logo, which must have haunted Pinocchio’s every waking moment. “Okay, you guy’s wait here. I’ll be right back.” She headed into the store, like she really expected the gargoyles to leave her alone with a heartless, soulless beast who’d fed his family to a sea monster.
Nicholas glanced at the others and they instantly began encircling the building, scanning for possible threats.
“What the hell are we even doing here?” Oore muttered, eyeing the sign with palpable distaste. “Pinocchio’s a liar and this place gives me the creeps.”
“She was asking about buying a gun the other night.” Cragg shrugged. “Said she wanted to protect the commander. Let her get one, if she wants. She’s too small to carry a broadsword, like a normal person.”
Not even Oore could disagree with that analysis.
Nicholas frowned and followed Marion into the shop. He’d known Marion had come to The Terrible Dogfish as part of her investigation into the other-Nicholas’ death, but he hadn’t realized it was related to a weapon.
What was she up to?
Unlike the others, he doubted she wanted a gun to protect him. If that was the case, she wouldn’t have put the Oak Major 1000 in the armory. She’d be lugging it around, because that enormous crossbow could do more damage than a sledgehammer. No, she must want a gun for some other reason, related to the first-Nicholas’ demise.
People generally thought Nicholas was big and dumb, but he was surprisingly good at puzzles. It was why he excelled at being the Sheriff of Nottingham. He examined the evidence and reached logical conclusions. Thinking it over, he quickly understood Marion’s actual intentions.
According to her, he’d be shot early Thursday morning. Guns were rare in Nottingham. Pinocchio was one of the few black market dealers around. The killer probably bought it from him.
She was looking for the gun that killed the other-Nicholas.
