Entry #37: Indigo

365 4 1
                                    

The night is dangerous, no matter where you go. It is the time when those of the underworld come out to play, using the darkness as a protective shroud. Camouflaged in black clothing to blend in with the shadows, they skulk about with malicious intent. While the rest of the world sleeps and dreams, thieves take what is not theirs and assassins slit the throats of the unaware. The night belongs to the stalkers of shadows. So, it doesn’t surprise me when I see several gathered in an alley.

I recognize James speaking with the two beside him. The dim light of a torch down the street lets me get a good look at them. One is a young girl, perhaps no more than sixteen. She is rather short and scrawny, with a dirty round face and scraggly ginger hair. The other man is far older than her, perhaps in his late twenties. He towers over both of them, broad shouldered and muscular. He isn’t quite what one would picture when they think of a thief. Both wear similar black leather armor to James. Are they part of a guild?

James speaks to them in a low voice with a sly smile on his face and fire in his eyes. They’re plotting something alright. It is pitch black outside and they are huddled in an alleyway, so they are definitely up to no good. I walk in closer to hear what he is saying.

He reaches in to his pocket and pulls out the bottle of poison he bought from the apothecary earlier. The girl’s face lights up with excitement when she sees it. “Oh you must have gotten the good stuff this time, boss!” she whispers, sounding as though she is struggling to keep quiet.

“What’s in it?” the man beside her mutters, crossing his arms.

“Indigo mushrooms. This stuff will knock him down the instant he eats it!” The instant who eats it? Who are they trying to kill?

I’ve seen indigo mushrooms in the forest before. My father used to take me into the woods to show me what was dangerous to touch. They’re highly poisonous and can kill quickly when ingested. Because of this, there really is no antidote. They’re also somewhat rare, coming only in the summer and taking years to fully grow. James must have paid a lot of coin for this poison. He must really want this person dead.

The girl cackles in grim delight, having to be shushed by the man. “Sorry, sorry. Ha, this guy will never know what hit him!”

“Oh he’ll know. I want to teach him what it means to mess with my gang. By morning, the guard will find Captain Byrd dead and they’ll know who did it,” James replies while twirling the bottle in his fingers. Makes sense; thieves wanting to get rid of their enemies. This Captain must have learned too much about James’s gang or did something to aggravate him.

“And then they won’t mess with us no more!” the girl agrees.

“Don’t get a big head,” the man warns. He has good sense, for a thief. That over-confidence James seems to possess could be the end of him.

“Save it. I want that bastard to pay for poisoning half our gang. We’ll be weakened while they’re fighting disease. We gotta take out the big guy before he makes a move.”

“What do you want us to do?”

“Ryn, go stand watch outside the front door,” he says to the man, who nods in compliance and ambles off to his position. To the girl, James continues, “Jazz, go with him. Come warn me if something changes.”

“Right. Get him good, boss,” she responds enthusiastically before sprinting after Ryn. The two disappear into the darkness, leaving James by himself in the dimly lit alley.

“I will get him good,” he mutters to himself as he draws his hood over his head. It hides his face completely from view; the true appearance of any shadow stalker. He hides the poison in his pocket and steps over to a house beside him.

From his pocket he pulls out a simple lock pick. He bends down beside the house’s back door and sticks the pick in the keyhole. With practiced skill, he moves the pick until a soft click comes from the locking mechanism. He jimmies the knob and the door swings open. James stops it before it can slam and shuts it quietly behind him.

The house is dead silent but its inhabitants must be still awake. James has entered into the rear of the living room. Burning candles rest on a coffee table and in sconces on the walls. Cushioned chairs rest beside a hearth, with a large warm fire glowing from within. I smell food cooking from the kitchen, which is adjacent to this room. Overall, this place seems rather cozy. I wouldn’t mind curling up by that fire and reading a good book.

Suddenly, I am alarmed when I notice someone sitting in a chair. His back is turned so he doesn’t notice James and he doesn’t hear him either. He is too involved with whatever he is doing. James glances at him once before slinking off towards the kitchen.

There is no one in here, leaving a boiling pot unattended. Some form of soup is stewing within. My goodness, does it look good! My stomach rumbles when I examine it. Sacks of flour, a few barrels of vegetables, and crates filled with fruit rest in a corner of the room. Strings of garlic and herbs hang from the ceiling.

James pauses to listen for a moment before he gets to work. He silently creeps up to the stew pot, reaches into his pocket, and pulls out the vial of poison. With his teeth, he rips the cork out of the top and spits it out onto the floor. With care he pours the blue-violet liquid into the soup. He stirs it a bit until the substance vanishes from sight, blending into the food. In moments, it looks as though there was never any poison dumped in it to begin with.

Footsteps echo from the room outside the kitchen. James grabs the cork from the bottle, pops it back into the top, slides it in his pocket, and ducks into the storage closet to hide. A cook steps into the kitchen, carrying some spices in his hands. He sprinkles them into the soup and stirs it a bit. I start to hope that he doesn’t taste it. That would be unfortunate….

Thankfully, he doesn’t. He ladles the soup into a bowl and sets it on a tray with a few slices of bread and a mug of apple cider. James and I watch as he carries it off into the living room, to where the man was sitting. James creeps into the doorway and observes his handiwork.

The cook places the tray on the table in front of the man, who sets aside his work to eat his late dinner. He smiles at the cook, thanking him for the meal, and spoons some into his mouth. I hold my breath as I watch him eat, waiting for what will happen next.

Moments after he takes his second bite, he starts coughing. The cook frowns and asks him if he is alright. The man shakes his head as he erupts in a fit of choking and gasping. He falls to the ground, convulsing and frothing at the mouth. Panicked, the cook runs outside, perhaps to seek help for his dying master.

He doesn’t get far though. As soon as he leaves, I hear a shout followed by a thump on the ground that could only be attributed to a body falling. Jazz and Ryn lurk in the doorway. The girl gives her leader a thumbs-up while Ryn stares blankly at the cook’s body. His throat is slit by Jazz’s dagger, as she is holding a bloody one in her right hand.

James’s work is done, as the man’s body falls still. His murderer stands beside him, checking his pulse to ensure that he is dead. I assume this man is Byrd, the man James claimed to have a vendetta against. His eyes are glassy, staring lifelessly up at his killer.

“Hurry up boss! I think someone’s comin’!” Jazz calls. Why is he lingering beside this dead man?

James pulls out a small piece of parchment, rolled up and held together by a simple string. He sets it on the dead man’s chest and darts out the door after his companions, never looking back.

To be continued in theme #38....

------------------------

A/N: I kinda had to get creative with this one too. I wasn't sure how to include 'indigo' into this portion of the story. After a while, I came up with using it to describe the poison James uses. There is actually a mushroom that is indigo, called "Lactarius indigo". But, unlike in my story, this real life mushroom is totally edible and not poisonous. (Guess who did her research? :D)

I hope you listened to the song I put with this! I feel like it describes James perfectly. xD

Well, thanks for reading and leave a comment! I know you're out there, silent readers.

Every Little MemoryWhere stories live. Discover now