Page 69 of Mongrel
I gulp down a swallow of strong ruby-red wine; it’s dry and more bitter than I’d like but better than the nothing I brought with me. “Anyone got anything better?”
“Not I,” says Bowie. “Getting arrested should be swift, which is what we need. It’s unfortunate we might be recognized afterward, though. We’ll have to lie low until we find this castle court master, Benedikt Deseo, and see if he can’t guide us to Cecily and the others.”
Janos tucks the keys back into the special pocket in his sleeve. “Getting out without causing a ruckus might prove impossible.”
A dark look clouds Bowie’s handsome features. “I’m not opposed to a ruckus.”
Chapter 22
We approach Erzsébet Báthory’s castle at dusk to give us as much time as possible to find all the girls. No one wants to spend the day within its gloomy walls, so the plan is to be out before dawn.
The night is overcast, with thick, drooping gray clouds that threaten rain and thunder. My stomach roils with nerves. Not only must I act out a scene with the others to get us thrown in jail, but I also must be careful no guards notice my ears or tail.
I’m not often around humans, and never many at once. Thinking of everything that could go wrong helps no one, but my mind won’t stop tossing out every terrible possibility.
“Ready?” Bowie takes my elbow. I smell the wine on his breath. We’ve all swished it around our mouths, counting on the guards to assume we’re drunk.
We aren’t the only ones milling the streets of Trencin. People proceed with their tasks in the village at the base of the castle walls, coming and going: a man on horseback, a boy leading goats, women bringing in laundry from the lines. They’ll all be startled as our plan unfolds. Either they’ll watch, or they’ll duck away to avoid the castle guards.
I take a deep breath, let it out through my nose. “Ready.” I’m really not, but I’ve committed to this, so we may as well get it over with.
“Let’s go.” Bowie heads down the middle of the street most easily observed from Csejthe’s gates, and I follow along.
I’m carrying an obvious leather coin purse and toss a large flank of a butchered pig loosely over my shoulder. It’s Janos’s cue that we’re ready for him to rob us.
Quick enough, his stumbling steps pick up speed from behind. Bowie and I pretend not to notice, walking as if we’re just headed home from the shops.
Janos plows into me, snatching the purse and pig in a clumsy motion, then lunges to get away.
“Hey!” I yell loud enough the guards must surely hear. I grab the purse’s strap and yank.
Janos doesn’t let go. The tug sends him staggering off-balance. He really does look drunk.
A quick glance at the guards indicates they’ve noticed the ruckus. Now for the follow-through.
“Stop! Thief!” Bowie shouts, then joins the fray. He swings and lands a satisfying blow to Janos’s jaw.
Flailing backward, Janos falls to his rump and sends the pig flank flying.
“I’m no thief.” Janos clambers to his feet and stalks toward Bowie. “That’s my coin purse, and you know it. You’re the only thieves here!”
At this point, I’d expect the guards to intervene. That’s what we were counting on. One of them orders a command to another, but they’re far enough away I can’t hear what’s been said.
“Hey!” At least I know my line. I dart in front of Bowie and shove Janos back to the ground. They know not to tousle me much—it’s crucial my hat stays firmly on my head—so after this, I mostly leave the fighting to them.
Bowie kicks Janos while he’s down. “What’d you do to earn that much coin?”
“None of your business, cocksucker.” Janos latches onto Bowie’s ankle and bites.
Bowie gives a pained cry.
I grab him beneath the armpits and drag him from Janos’s rabid attack.
One of the guards yells from atop the battlements. “Ho there. Desist at once.”
Finally. It’s about time they get involved.
Janos flies to his feet and rams into us both, knocking all three of us to the ground. Our drunken brawl becomes a wrestling match.
