Rosa's body ached, and her eyes burned. The lamp light above the bar bathed everything in a yellowish hue, making things hard to see. She understood the appeal of this tiny bar: a place to find quiet and forget. It had been a challenging ride from Alhambra to the small town of Perdido, and as usual, she was already too late. Rosa thought of the perpetrator as a male, given the physical brutality of each attack. It could have also been a woman, but it didn't feel like that. Did gender matter for a monster? Waving the bartender over, she slid a shiny gold coin on the bar top. "More light, por favor, and refills."
The bartender sighed as he reached up and increased the flame in the small lamp. He would have given a more "colorful" response if anyone else had asked for more light. However, the pistols at her hips and the long gun against the bar spoke volumes. The tattoo on the right side of her face identified her as an Alguacila, a law officer of the Imperium. While he didn't recognize her, there was no sense in making a fuss about it. Besides, it was the middle of the week and a slow night. She was only one of two customers; the other was quietly drinking their night away. Pouring another double of mezcal, he placed the tiny glass and the refilled ale in front of her and scooped up the coin from the bar top before heading back into the kitchen.
"Gracias," she said. Sipping the mezcal, she opened the notebook and reviewed the notes again. Two days ago, Martin Rojas was reported dead in his home in Alhambra. Rojas had put up a fight as neighbors reported multiple shots fired in the middle of the night, just after midnight. "Same as the last three," she said to herself, "always after midnight." She shook her head and continued reading. Someone or something had slammed Rojas from one end of the room to the other. The walls and the plaster were broken and blood-stained. The attacker threw him around like a rag doll. The inspection of the remains revealed that limbs and ribs were broken and shattered. She grimaced as she looked at the last detail: the victim's heart was pulled out of the chest and put in their left hand with a single bite taken out of it. Scattered on his chest were a handful of coins. Like the others, the wound was just below the ribcage and was too rough to have been done with a blade. The onsite officers believed it was the work of someone with inhumanly sharpened nails or a special bladed glove, but both seemed out of place.
This murder was the third of its kind.
There had to be a connection.
"Thank you for the light, Alguacila," said an unfamiliar voice.
Looking up, Rosa saw that a skinny man at the end of the bar was addressing her. Like her, he looked tired, but he had a pleasant smile. In his hand, he was holding a dog-eared letter.
"Good news, I hope?" she asked.
The smile faded slightly. "A goodbye letter, unfortunately," the man said.
"How long?" Rosa asked.
"Three years," he said simply.
She nodded her head. The man looked to be in his late thirties. At that age, one no longer benefited from youth and stupidity. In your thirties, you threw yourself into your job or found someone your age who did not want to be alone. Three years was an investment of time; depending on the person, it was not an investment they could afford to lose. She saw this story time and time again. He seemed to take it better, or maybe he was just numb. Either way, he raised his mug to her in thanks and took a drink.
Returning the gesture, Rosa raised the glass of mezcal to him and drank the glass down.
"If you don't mind me asking, what was 'always after midnight'? You were speaking out loud to yourself," he asked.
She blamed the mezcal for her loose tongue and quick reply. It was her third glass, and the hour was late. Her usual reserved self had already checked out for the evening. "I'm looking for a monster," she said.
The man raised his eyebrows in shock. "An honest-to-gods monster? Here in Perdido?! I thought we were in a safe zone?"
She shook her head. "No, he's gone already. They have already done the damage."
"Did it ...did it kill someone?" he asked with a bit of hesitation.
"Family man. Murdered him in his own home," she said as she looked into the mug. Part of her brain was yelling at her to shut up, but she was too tired to care. The case wasn't a secret. Half the village had been whispering about it by sundown. He certainly wouldn't report her.
The skinny man's face held a mixture of both horror and sadness. "What about the family?"
Rosa shook her head. "They were fine. The monster only wanted the man. We would not have a description if it weren't for the wife."
The man's eyes widened. "She saw the creature? What was it?" he asked.
Rosa smiled and quietly said, "Tenebroso."
The skinny man twitched. "The Dark Rider? But that's a boogeyman story the Guild tells at bars when they want to spook locals. He's not real, is he?"
Rosa chuckled. "He would like us to think he is a creature of legend. He is the lone rider who trades souls for gold, a skeletal vaquero who stalks the moonless nights for helpless travelers. He is not Tenebroso, but he would like us to believe it. The wife's description was of a man dressed similar to a vaquero but all in black. I can't tell you the details, but the murder was brutal enough to make us think of Tenebroso as a monster." She took another drink. "Full details will be released in a day or two, but can I trust you to keep that to yourself?"
The skinny man nodded nervously and quietly said, "Of course, Alguacila, I will say nothing about it."
She took another drink and asked, "So, is Perdido your home?"
This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report.
"No, I just got here yesterday. I'm on my way to Alhambra to see my sister and her wife, though I think I might stay a day more, given your news," he said as he looked at his drink.
"You should be fine; Lune is already peeking in the night sky. Like the stories, the bastard only strikes during the moonless nights. Besides, you don't look like the type to sell your soul for gold, eh?" she said with a bit of a chuckle. "My name is Rosa Delgado, stalwart Alguacila of Their Majesty's Imperium."
"Javi," he said simply, "And no, Alguacila, that isn't me," he said, shaking his head, "but the person who died, they sold their soul for gold?"
Rosa shook her head. "Oh no, that is all legend bullshit. This Tenebroso is killing without reason, though to him, I am sure there is. Thankfully, all his victims have been adults, but I worry for the day that he looks for younger targets."
Rosa noticed Javi wince at the remark while staring at his glass. She changed the subject because he looked like he wasn't built for such harsh concepts. "Your family, just the one sister?"
The shaky smile returned, "Yes, just her and I. Our mother passed last year, and our father a while back. So now it's just us." Drinking down the last of his mug's contents, "Thank you for the company, Alguacila," he said as he stood. "I wish you luck on your hunt and safety for yourself."
Rosa nodded, "Thank you, Javi, be safe out there."
"Buenas noches, Alguacila," he said, walking out the door.
A moment later, there was a shout at the door, "Move your ass flaco! Go be drunk elsewhere!"
Rosa recognized the voice and silently cursed.
The door opened, and a short, barrel-chested man walked in and scanned the empty bar.
"She's here."
Stepping out of the way, a taller woman entered and took off her wide-brimmed hat. Her face was harsh and decorated with more than a few scars. The pendant around her neck swung low, making her affiliation known: The Inquisition of Hil. Walking toward the bar, she took the seat next to Rosa.
"No monsters here, Inquisitor, except the ones you find in a bottle," Rosa said.
"I'm surprised you aren't already floating in one Peacekeeper," the woman said.
Rosa took one last drink and slowly turned to get up. "Peacekeepers are a designation exclusive to the Reach. That title is a holdover from their days before the Imperium, and The Reach is all about its traditions. This is the Imperium proper, and I am addressed as Alguacila. So excuse me, as I have a hard bed calling my name Inquisitor. Have a good evening." Looking toward the door, she could see the short man glaring at her while blocking the doorway. "You mind moving out of the way, gordo?"
"My name is Brother Martinez," he said as he continued to stand in front of the door.
"I don't give a f..." Rosa said when she suddenly felt something poking into her back. The buzz of alcohol instantly faded as she did a quick mental count and swore silently; it was her long gun.
"Manners Alguacila, manners. Brother Martinez is only doing his job and standing watch. Besides, we still have to discuss Alhambra," the Inquisitor said.
"You know as much as I do, Inquisitor Torres," Rosa said.
"How did you know the attack would be in Alhambra?" the Inquisitor pressed.
"I guessed," she said, but she felt the barrel of the long gun jab her hard in the back and pushed her forward. Catching herself from stumbling, she slowly turned around and faced Torres. "You have no right to question me! I am an Alguacila of the Imperium..." she started, but Torres cut her off.
"Correction - you are an Alguacila of Puente, not Perdido or Alhambra. You are outside of your given jurisdiction by over a hundred miles. You have no business here, Delgado," Torres said as she sat at the bar.
Rosa's long gun was pointed toward the floor. It wasn't cocked, but she didn't know how adept Torres was with a firearm. From the corner of her eye, she could see Martinez moving slowly. This was going to end badly for her.
"Cities," she said. "Alhambra was the next major city heading westward. There have been no reports from local towns or villages. The previous attacks have always happened in cities, and Alhambra seemed like the likely bet. Like I said, I guessed."
"See, Alguacila, that wasn't so hard now, was it? A little cooperation goes a long way," Torres said. "Where do you guess he will head next?"
Rosa shrugged. "Your guess is as good as mine. Perdido is a small stop before the Wolfram River. He could head to Wolfram or pass through to get to Recinos, Casper, or even Warchol. I didn't have enough time to research the scene before 'Shorty' over there started causing a fuss at the scene."
"A place where you had no business being Alguacila," he said.
"Don't you have innocents to torture or public officials to suck..." Rosa started.
"ENOUGH DELGADO!" the Inquisitor roared. "Your disrespect aside, Brother Martinez is right; you had no business being there. Your superiors have a wonderful message for you," Torres said as she reached into her long coat and pulled out an envelope. "I'm sure it is interesting reading," she said, placing it on the bar with Rosa's rifle. "The Light of Hil will take care of this from now on. Enjoy your trip back," she said as she rose from the bar seat.
The short man turned and opened the door as Torres made her way to the door. "If you think of any more good guesses, we will be at the Shrine until ten in the morning, and then we'll leave for Wolfram. Safe journey, Alguacila. May Hil's Guidance bring you peace."
The door closed and was soon followed by horses being urged to move. Rosa's hand shook in anger. Part of her wanted to take the long gun and beat Torres until she stopped moving. Instead, she moved back to the bar. "HEY! Quit hiding back there and give us a refill!" she said as she knocked her knuckles on the bar.
Slowly, the kitchen door opened. "I'm sorry, Alguacila, but it's almost midnight. I should have closed an hour ago," the bartender said.
She could see the nervous look on his face. "Fuck," was all she could say. Reaching into her pocket, she pulled out several silver pieces and put them on the bar. "For your trouble," she said. She picked up her rifle and the letter and left the bar. The night had already been cold, but now she could smell moisture. It was going to rain soon. She needed sleep and a clear head, neither of which would be found outside. Sighing deeply, she crossed the road to the Perdido's only inn.
Sighing deeply, she crossed the road to the Perdido's only inn [https://img.wattpad.com/4cb2be823b8a09ddba9a276859c3ea1ad6cb811f/68747470733a2f2f73332e616d617a6f6e6177732e636f6d2f776174747061642d6d656469612d736572766963652f53746f7279496d6167652f52427342524754745275696a37773d3d2d313430393536383734302e313761353637393930613634326162353338303239343634383734352e706e67?s=fit&w=1280&h=1280]
Javi watched as Rosa slowly made her way to the tiny inn. He had hidden himself behind a few packing crates that populated the alleyway created by the bar and the general store. He could feel his heart pounding in his head, and despite the chill in the air, he could feel the sweat coming off the top of his head.
"Mátala ahora," a voice hissed in his mind.
"No," he shot back mentally.
Once Rosa had entered the building, Javi slowly stood up and continued to walk down the alleyway. A flash of movement caught his eye off to the side and froze him in place. Slowly turning, he saw that the side door to the general store had a small window. The movement he caught was his reflection. What stared back was not Javi's skinny, tired face. Instead, a skeletal face with dark red eyes stared back. Tenebroso's displeasure could be felt throughout his being.
"No," he said again, "She's only doing her job."
He could hear the reflection suck its tooth in disapproval. "Pendejo."
"If we hadn't stopped here, we would not have known who was following us. Now we know who to avoid. So how about you shut up for the rest of the night? We have a long ride to Wolfram. I want to be across the river before those Inquisitors leave tomorrow," Javi said back.
Tenebroso grinned, "Then move your ass, pendejo. There is evil to consume."