POE MUST DIE by Marc Olden Read Free Book Online Page B

lantern’s deadly light directly from his eyes, still on one knee as though tired, fumbling, indecisive.
    His eyes never left the ground, never left Rosehearty’s growing shadow.
    Then he heard Rosehearty, heard the hissing noise as the assassin breathed through tightly clenched teeth, saw the killer’s shadow almost on him and that’s when Figg, back still to Rosehearty, savagely drove the end of the quarterst off into the pit of Rosehearty’s stomach.
    All of the breath left the tall man in one long, harsh sigh. His eyes bulged and the pressure against his stomach was massive, destructive, and Rosehearty doubled over, his tall beaver hat tumbling from his long, gray head. Figg scampered to his feet and was merciless; in his large hands, the quarterstaff was a blur, a seven foot length of oak wielded with swift and vicious skill. He thought of his own dead, of what would happen to Dickens’ children if Rosehearty were to live. For Will, for Althea.
    Figg used both ends of the quarterstaff to kill Rosehearty.
    A powerful blow broke the tall man’s left wrist, sending his lamp to the rain-soaked ground. A second blow crushed his right kneecap. Rosehearty’s scream echoed in the rainy night as the agony raced up the right side of his body. And as Rosehearty fell towards the ground, his arm and leg on fire with pain, Figg delivered the third blow with his full strength behind it, crushing Rosehearty’s left temple, instantly killing him and driving the tall man into the wet grass with sickening speed.
    Figg never again looked at Rosehearty. He knew the man was dead.
    Stubbs, face knotted with pain, looked up at the lantern and small sword in Figg’s hands. “Kill me, you bastard and be done with it.”
    Figg listened to the rain, eyes narrowed and on the albino. “Some words with you first.”
    “First? What the bleedin’ ’ell is first? You plan to do me, so do me. You will be gettin’ no words from me.” Stubbs closed his eyes and clenched his teeth, hands pressing hard on his thigh wound.
    Figg, down on one knee, held the lantern close to Stubbs’s face. “I shall kill you, this is a fact and I shall not deceive you on that score. But I can kill you quickly or I can make a right bloody mess of it. You do not have much time in which to consider.”
    Stubbs frowned. Beads of rain clung to his unshaven chin and darkened his clothing. “Dyin’ or dyin’. What kind of choice is that?”
    “Not much. I do not mean for you to have much choice Stubbs, and you try my patience. You came for my life and now I mean to have yours.”
    “I gots a woman, you know. And kids.”
    “You are scum, Stubbs. They will be right pleased to be quits of you. Jonathan sent you to do me. Why?”
    “ Scairt of you. Never says so but we know he is. Says you are a primitive and terrible force.” The albino used blood covered fingers to squeeze rain from his eyes.
    Figg frowned. Jonathan afraid of him? “Well paid were you?” he asked.
    “A guinea each.”
    Figg snorted. “Not very dear, am I.” Money you will spend in hell, he thought.
    Stubbs licked rainwater from his lips and tried to sit up. “You are cursed. Jonathan has a spell on you.”
    For the first time that night, Figg felt the cold. “Curse?”
    “We saw him. A nail in your footprint. He had us follow you, then Timothy Buck he runs to get Jonathan and he brings him to one of your footprints and Jonathan he drives a nail in it, a nail what comes from a coffin. And he curses you that you be harmed until he pulls the nail from the footprint.” Stubbs stiffened with pain, falling backwards into a greasy puddle.
    “Why is Jonathan goin’ to New York?”
    Stubbs’s lips were pressed tightly together against pain and his eyes were closed and he did not see the quick movement as Figg flicked his wrist and slashed the albino’s cheek.
    Stubbs squealed, flopping to his right, both hands on the right side of his face. Blood trickled through his fingers to mingle with