I was still lost in thought when Temperance finally shepherded us out of the sprawling labyrinth and right to the doorstep of the Muzzle and Mast. With a name like Ajax, I’d half-expected the place to resemble a Thunderdome-esque murder arena, where post-apocalyptic warriors battled each other for sport in front of a cheering crowd of bloodthirsty spectators. But nope. The Muzzle and Mast turned out to be the Hold’s only tavern, and it sat in the belly of a bonafide pirate ship.
The ship looked like something ripped straight off the high seas and stranded on a sandbar. Except the sandbar in question was an enormous high school gymnasium in a backwards Alice in Wonderland murder world.
The planks were graying and weathered as though the ship had seen long years on the tossing waves and dried barnacles peppered the worn hull. Three huge masts jutted upward like skeletal fingers, nearly brushing the ceiling high above. There was no sign of the sails or rigging, but a giant masthead, carved to resemble a snarling wolf’s head, protruded from the prow.
Where in the hell they’d found a pirate ship was a mystery I couldn’t even begin to hazard a guess at. How they’d managed to get the damned thing in here was an even bigger head scratcher. Though, I supposed, it couldn’t have been much tougher than moving in all the shipping containers.
A wide variety of Howlers partied on the ship’s upper deck, dancing and drinking as thumping music blared from a pair of huge speakers affixed to the various masts. There was no obvious way to get to the upper deck from the outside, so instead I shouldered my way into the lower hull through a pair of wooden batwing doors that looked like they’d been pilfered from the ol’ West Saloon Shoot Out in the Jungle Gym Arcade.
The air inside stopped me dead in my tracks.
The whole place was musky and eye-wateringly sour.
The reek of pungent hookah smoke, stale beer, and overwhelming body odor hit me like a fist to the nose. I staggered at the reek, actively suppressing the urge to throw up in my mouth. A flash of regret washed over me and suddenly I had a desperate and intense desire to turn around and go anywhere else. Someone needed to air drop a bathtub worth of Febreze into this place.
Not that I had much room to talk. Even after all that scrubbing and a fresh coat of deodorant, I still smelled like a North-West Pacific fishing boat left too long in the sun.
“I think something might’ve died in here, Dan,” Croc whispered, just loud enough to be heard over murmur of the crowd and the lonely twang of a guitar. “It smells worse than the sewers on the second floor.”
I shuddered just thinking about the claustrophobic and disgusting jumble of tunnels that comprised the second floor, which I’d affectionately labeled the Devil’s Asshole.
The whole level was dank, gross, filled with suffering, and overflowing with literal shit. I’d contracted a nasty case of Sludge Lung while tromping around in the pungent waterways, and the disease had damn-near killed me. I’d spent the better part of day in a nightmarish delirium, vacillating between a blazing fever and teeth-chattering chills, all while projectile vomiting and hallucinating my ass off.
Fuck that whole level.
“It’s not that bad,” I muttered, eyeballing the crowd. “Now let’s just stay focused and get this over with.”
Nearly a dozen Howlers lounged on giant bean bags or stuffed couches, both of which looked wildly out of place inside of the hold of a sixteenth century pirate ship. Several were smoking Hookah pipes, unleashing plumes of blue-gray smoke so thick they clouded the air and made it difficult to see. The skunky scent of weed also lingered, warring with the sweeter aroma of tobacco. There were a handful of Howlers clustered around a circular table, where another pair sat across from each other locked in a fervent battle of… Magic the Gathering.
I was in no way shocked.
A woman wearing a pair of cat ears and a skintight body suit sat on the stage, picking at a battle-worn acoustic guitar that had seen better days. She plucked out a slow and melodic version of Hotel California. Her sultry voice was almost as smokey as the air.
Temperance sauntered up beside me and hooked one arm through mine, then pointed across the crowded interior to a lone figure, loitering behind a polished, hard-wood bar that ran along the length of the far wall. The man wore a shaggy crimson fox suit with large ears, black forearms, and a tuft of black hair that resembled a mohawk.
“That would be Ajax, proprietor of the Muzzle and Mast, and one third of the Tribunal of Howler’s Hold. All we need to do is win him over to lock down the vote and cement the alliance. Wraith is right about him. He’s a drama queen of the highest order and a bit of an ass, but as long as you know that going in, we should be fine.”
I had my doubts about that.
Knowing how these things tended to go, I had a strong suspicion that securing his vote wouldn’t be as easy as it sounded. These things never were. If Ajax really was as selfish and self-serving as Wraith made him out to be, it almost certainly meant he was going to ask me to do something stupid and or dangerous—probably both—to secure his support.
“Great. Perfect. Awesome,” I grumbled. “I’m sure this is not at all going to be a herculean task of hellish proportions.” Taking a deep breath, which I immediately regretted, I squared my shoulders and strode toward the bar with the others in tow.
There were a couple of Howlers lurking at the counter. Both offered me questioning glances as I approached, but quickly moved away with beer mugs in hand. More of the tavern goers had finally taken notice of our arrival, and there was a palpable tension gathering in the air which hadn’t been there before. Almost as though they suspected violence might break out at any moment and they were all collectively preparing to break for cover.
Couldn’t say I blamed them.
As the most infamous and wanted man in the Backrooms, I was sure there were a lot of rumors flying around about me. Some of them were probably true, and others were undoubtedly false. These people wouldn’t know the difference, though. All they would know for sure was that I was dangerous with a capital D. After all, if the Skinless Court was willing to pay top dollar for my head, then surely there had to be a damned good reason.
A quick scan with Researcher’s Codex also revealed that none of the bargoers were above level 13—save Ajax who was level 19—which also helped explain their obvious apprehension. If we had a mind to, we could kill everyone in here and it wouldn’t even be hard.
I sidled up to the bar and slipped onto one of the stools, while Croc wedged its body between the counter and my legs. Then the mimic spun in a tight circle and plopped down, staying silent but facing the crowd, which gave me some small measure of comfort. I didn’t much like having my back exposed to a room full of potentially hostile Delvers—even if they were all relatively weak. Knowing Croc had my six eased my worry.
Jakob slipped onto a stool on my right, and swiveled, so he too had eyes on the bar’s patrons. Temperance took the stool to my left and leaned up against the bar, a wide grin spreading across her face.
“I’ll take a gin and tonic,” she ordered without a preamble.
The fox pulled a glass from beneath the bar, then fished out a bottle filled with sapphire blue liquor from the shelf behind him. The bar was surprisingly well stocked, the shelves loaded with Rum and Vodka, Tequila and Bourbon, Gin and Whiskey of a dozen different varieties.
“It’s good to see you survived your excommunication, darling,” the fox replied, sliding the drink to Temperance. “Jakob,” he said, nodding respectfully at the Cendral.
“Ajax,” Jakob replied with a curt dip of his head, though he kept one eye glued on the crowd.
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“It’s been years,” Ajax said to the Cendral. “And you’ve made it to Level 26. Impressive. It seems your time away has served you well. Any chance you’ve finally decided to put down roots? Last time you were here, they offered you a job as a Tribune to get you to stay. It’s a shame you turned them down. Jackson has become an unbelievably pretentious twat since he took the post. Absolutely unbearable.”
“Das ist sehr net. I appreciate the sentiment,” Jakob replied evenly, “but I never was one for local politics. Besides, there are still so many answers yet to find and I’m not ready to stop looking.”
Ajax harrumphed and crossed furry arms across his chest. “I forgot how boring you are. So polite and well-mannered. Like watching wet paint dry.” He turned his gaze on me. “And who are your new friends, hmm?” The fox gave me a once over, then stole a look at Croc. “They look… interesting.”
Temperance rolled her eyes. “Do we really need to do this song and dance, Ajax? We both know you have eyes and ears everywhere. Nothing happens in the Hold that you don’t already know about.”
“That’s true, dear, but the least you could do is play along and let me have a little fun.” He sighed and sniffed in disapproval. “Since our dearest Temperance insists on sucking all the joy out of everything. Allow me to introduce myself, I’m Ajax the Fabulous, proprietor of the Muzzle and Mast, the finest bar and club in Howlers Hold—”
“—the only bar and club in Howler’s Hold,” Jakob corrected.
Ajax ignored him, completely unphased, “Charmed to meet you,” he finished, extending a paw.
Not wanting to be rude, I accepted and gave it a shake. “Good to meet you, I’m—”
“Discount Dan,” the fox interjected before I could get my name out. “It doesn’t take a genius to see who you are, especially in that delightful ensemble you’re wearing. You might not be aware, Daniel, but you’re the buzz of the Hold. From what I hear, our dearest leader Wraith even decided to play diplomatic envoy and personally paid you a visit. You should feel honored. Plus, Jackson positively loathes you, which is another mark in your favor. I dare say, you might end up being quite a lot of fun.”
“Oh, he’s loads of fun,” Croc said from the floor. “Have you ever been on the big slide at the Jungle Gym Jamboree? The one that takes you from the Big Tent all the way to the exit? Well, Dan took me and honestly, it’s the closest thing to heaven on earth I’ve ever experienced. He also lets me eat as much Froyo as I want and, eventually, we’re going to visit one of the water parks on the lower floors. Plus, he’s a big fan of the Twilight books series, just like me—”
“—Big fan is an overstatement,” I grumbled. “I only read the first one. And only because I was on deployment and there was nothing else to read.”
“Well look at you,” Ajax beamed. “Aren’t you just the sweetest, dumbest creature on God’s green earth. You must be Croc.” He scanned the dog, taking in the rubbery pockmarked texture of the mimic’s skin and its huge googly eyes. “I’ve heard about you too, though you are much less… murdery than I was expecting.”
“Yeah, that’s what pretty much everyone says about me,” Croc replied. “Usually, people scream when they see me and call me things like ‘an Eldritch Nightmare’ or a ‘fleshy Abomination unto the Lord’ before trying to kill me with fire. But not Dan! He saw that I’m really a good boy, who occasionally gets a little peckish for the flesh of my enemies.”
“Oh my god, you’re so adorable it’s physically painful,” the fox gushed at the mimic. Then he shot a sideways glance at me. “I always did like a man who can look past an entire dump truck worth of red flags.”
“Sorry buddy, there’s not enough booze in the world to make me look past all the red flags you’re waiving,” I said. “But, Temperance did mention that we might be able to cut a business deal.”
“Great banter,” the fox said, rubbing at his chin thoughtfully. “I’m a slut for good banter. Yes, you might be a little fun indeed, Daniel.”
“—Just Dan,” I tried to say, but Ajax had already moved on.
The barkeep turned toward the crowd and raised his voice. “Out, all of you.” The playful tone of moments before was gone. These were the words of a man who expected to be obeyed. The music from the stage cut off with a sharp jangle and the words died in the singer’s throat.
Although there were a few muttered protests, the bargoers packed up their belongings and shuffled out, leaving the place empty, save for us and Ajax. I could still hear the thump of EDM flowing down from a set of rough-hewn stairs that led to the upper deck, but Ajax didn’t seem to notice.
Once Ajax was sure there was no one else around, he pulled the fox head off and set it on the countertop with a long sigh of relief.
“That thing gets positively stifling without AC.” He paused, a dreamy look flickering across his face. “God, I’d give my left nut for proper a fan inside this thing.”
After dealing with Wraith, I was half-expecting Ajax to be an actual fox or some other kind of Transmog, but he was human—although he did have surprisingly fox-ish features. The man had a swath of sweaty red hair that drooped onto his forehead, a pale complexion dusted with freckles, and high cheekbones sharp enough to cut glass. Green eyes regarded me with strange intensity.
“Now, let’s not beat around the bush,” Ajex said, leaning against the edge of the bartop, “you’re here, gracing my lowly doorstep because you need my blessing if you want to open shop here in the Hold.”
“I’m assuming that means Wraith has already paid you a visit?” Temperance asked, idly swirling her Gin and Tonic.
“He didn’t need to,” Ajax replied. “He announced that he was supporting your endeavor over the PA system. Everyone and their brother knows exactly where he stands. Say what you will about Wraith, but the man has conviction. Someone else did come stomping by, however. I’ll give you one guess who it was.” He sounded supremely unamused.
“Jackson,” Temperance replied flatly.
“Indeed, darling. And he wasn’t alone. He came with a whole troop of his goons. They broke one of my tables, by ‘accident,’ of course.” He air quoted the word. “They also strongly implied that more misfortune might befall my humble establishment unless I cast my vote against a certain bathrobed entrepreneur. I’ve never seen Jackson this worked up." He paused and stole a knowing glance at Temperance. "I suspect it has far less to do with Daniel here”—he reached over and patted me on the hand—“and far more to do with getting back at you. He is very upset that you managed to worm your way back in here, after what you did to him.”
“As far as I’m concerned, he did it to himself,” Temperance said. “I told him more than once not to touch. He should’ve listened.”
“Wait, I’m sorry. So let me see if I have this right,” I said. “This douchebag assaults Temperance, and she’s the one who gets kicked out, and now he’s actively trying to shake you down and everyone is just… okay with it?”
“It’s complicated,” Ajax replied, “and political. For better or worse, this is like one of those CW shows where everything boils down to one big popularity contest. Unfortunately, Jackson is popular. And maybe you should climb down off your high horse, Daniel. Unless I am very much mistaken, you’re here to actively bribe me. You and Jackson are both trying to accomplish the same thing, even if you’re going about it in different ways.”
As much as I wanted to refute his point, I couldn’t. Not really. Much as it pained me to admit, Ajax was right. Not that it mattered. This was about survival and although there were certainly some ethical lines I wasn’t willing to cross, a little bribery wasn’t one of ’em.
“It just turns out,” Ajax continued after a beat, “that I respond better to honey than to vinegar—especially because I happen to think this little enterprise of yours is absolutely fabulous. I sent out one of my retainers, and he’s been singing your praises ever since he got back. Honestly, having one of your doorways here will make my life so much easier. With that said, even though I think a potential partnership is great for the Hold and for me personally, it’s still going to cost you.”
“Why?” I asked instead, brow furrowed in confusion. “You said it yourself, this benefits both of us.”
“Yes, but it doesn’t benefit both of us equally, Daniel,” Ajax replied with a mischievous smile. “You’re still quite new here, so perhaps you haven’t learned this lesson yet. Please allow me to be your sensi: in the Backrooms, there is no free lunch. You want something, and I have the power to give it to you. You need me far more than I need you in this equation, which is why you’re going to do a few things to guarantee my cooperation.”
I ground my teeth in frustration but nodded. This was just the cost of doing business, I reminded myself.
“So glad you’re amendable. First, I will need someone to help protect me and my establishment until this all blows over. Jackson doesn’t have the manpower to bully me indefinitely, but he can certainly make a nuisance of himself for a few weeks. If you want my vote, you’ll need to keep Jackson and band of miscreants off my back until you take care of my other requests.”
“I’d be happy to handle that,” Temperance replied, a malevolent smile spreading across her face. “Jackson is a lost cause, but maybe I can beat a little common into the others.”
“I thought you might be open to helping,” Ajax said with a lopsided smile. “But a little extra protection isn’t all I require. I also want a fifty-percent discount on all in store purchases.”
“Nope,” I shot back straight away. “Not going to happen. If I let you do that, what’s to stop you from coming in, buying everything you can carry at steep discount, then reselling here and undercutting my prices. What I can do is offer you a ten percent personal discount, plus I’d be willing to negotiate a cheaper wholesale price for certain goods, but only if you buy in bulk.”
Ajax pouted and drummed his fingers on the countertop. “Fine, I suppose I would be amenable to those terms. I don’t suppose you’d be willing to discuss selling some items on consignment?”
“Yeah, we could work out an arrangement,” I said, “though I’m not ready to nail down commission percentages just yet.”
“Of course,” Ajax replied, waving away the comment as though things were already decided. “Then there’s just one other tiny little thing. A small favor really.” The man steepled his fingers like a Bond villain.
The way he said small favor, made me think it would be anything but.
“What else do you need?” I asked, already bracing for impact.
A feverish light washed across Ajax’s face as he leaned closer. “I want access to laundry services.”
“Laundry services?”
“Oh yes, Daniel, laundry services…”