Chapter 8

AS VIVIENNE continued to remind him about the pressing issue of her engagement, Blake decided it was time to act on the problem of Monsieur Nicolet. It wasn't just her nagging; Blake knew he would eventually have to answer to why he was holding another man's fiancée hostage. The only way to resolve it was by sitting down and having a heart-to-heart talk with the good duke himself.

Blake started by having a couple of his contacts look into Mighell's background and finances. Duke Mighell Nicolet of Jehan, was a relatively distant relation of the King of Nivarrin but had worked his way into the royal court by carrying out seedy acts. He had his fingers in sex trafficking, drug and arms trading, organized crime, and – not to mention – murder and rape. In short, he was exactly like the sort of fellow that Blake had experience working with.

Vivienne had been right that Blake had plenty of secrets he would have preferred to keep from Gabriel Balan. Although it was well known that his father had profited off distributing a drug called Nectar that was made from Dark Waters to the Manna City populace, what most didn't know was that Blake had continued his father's work. Blake had made billions off refining Dark Waters and selling it for both medical uses and on the black market for recreational purposes. His company held factories and warehouses all over the world. Shortly before Blake had left Tercel, he had a batch of potent pills made in his Shanghai factory. Those were not for medical or recreation; rather they were a weaponized form of the product. They could turn the imbiber into a weaker demon with a simple pill.

The Shanghai pills created demons with all of the weaknesses – photophobia, madness, blood-lust with few of the strengths such as physical strength, rapid healing, and beauty. Blake had kept that batch in his own private warehouses along with his array of enchanted weapons.

As an outlaw himself, Blake felt a natural camaraderie with criminals such as Duke Nicolet. Blake had reason to believe Duke Nicolet arranged the distribution of kidnapped women to the rest of the royal family. In return, Nicolet collected a small fee which he often gambled away and squandered on various illicit drugs. Interestingly, the duke had frequented numerous sex clubs in Manna City in the past weeks. That must be due to the fact that Gabriel was breathing down his neck about him having premarital sex with his daughter.

Blake decided to pay Mighell a visit that Friday night. Shortly after sundown, Blake sat down at the bar with a glass of scotch and waited for the duke's arrival. As he watched women in fluorescent underwear and cheap fishnet stockings dance in decorative cages, he had to admit he missed Namura. This was precisely the type of scene, Julian would have excelled at. He knew Vivienne thought he was a sociopath for his propensity to knock off his friends, but in Namura's case, it was absolutely necessary. All the same, he found himself wishing he didn't have to. Sometimes, Blake wondered if it would have been best for him to have died young. There were days when he realized he committed so many crimes he could barely keep track of them all.

Mighell appeared around midnight, with two girls in his arms. He was alone, but Blake knew he had bodyguards nearby. He also knew Mighell was probably armed. That wouldn't be a problem that night. Shortly after sitting down at the bar, Mighell became belligerently drunk. He began cursing at the crowd and immediately scared his prostitutes away. That was his chance, while the duke was muttering angrily to himself and sitting unsteadily on his bar stool.

Blake showed up beside him with two glasses of Japanese whiskey of the Yamazaki variety. Snapping his fingers, Blake signaled over two girls who he had paid off for the night. He placed one glass in front of the greasy Frenchman and offered the disgruntled man one of the busty brunettes with numerous chest tattoos.

"I believe we've met before," Blake said. "Do you remember?"

A grin appeared in Mighell's mouth as he waved one shaky finger at Blake. "Yes, now I remember. You're a lord here?"

"I'm more than a lord now," Blake said as he patted one of his prostitutes on the bottom. He flexed his hand and wished for hand sanitizer. "Can I offer you a drink?"

Mighell lifted his glass and took a deep swing. "This is good stuff. Expensive."

"Yes," Blake said. "A toast to your upcoming nuptials."

"Oh, that little cunt?" Mighell said with a laugh. "Haven't seen her, not in days. Her heart is cold, like witch's tits. They say she has reputation for being whore."

Blake laughed and drank from his glass, motioning for Mighell to do the same. The thirsty duke didn't need much encouragement. "Does she do that often? Look at other men? I wonder why."

Mighell blinked rapidly, trying to keep himself from passing off into a drunken stupor. He had enough wits about him to down the rest of his scotch. Blake ordered him another glass. The bartender immediately appeared and generously poured a glass. The stack of hundred-dollar bills Blake had tipped earlier had made an impression.

Mighell reached out and wrapped his arm around Blake's shoulders. "You sure you're treating?"

"Yes," Blake said with a strained smile and tipped his glass to Mighell. "Friends?"

"You're all right, Lord Thorne," Mighell said. "You're not a stuck-up branleur like I took you for."

"Tell me," Blake said. "How much would you charge me for one night with your little bird?"

"One night?" Mighell said with a laugh. "I'll sell you her body for five hundred if you promise to spit on her afterward."

"Oh?" Blake asked as he drew a silver chain of Javier metal from his pocket and absently dangled it over the back of Mighell's neck. Little did Mighell know, the scotch he had been feeding him had been full of dissolved pills of Dark Water from his stock from Tercel's Shanghai factory. As Mighell continued to drink his tainted cocktail, slowly the silver chain began to turn gold.

Blake had to scuff at how easy this was. Ever since the royal objects turned to gold in his hands at Sjena Heim Castle, he was able to do things he never had before. Just like that, he had bound the nearly demonic Duke Nicolet to his will.

"When I finally get my hands on that little bitch, I'm going to cut her with my knife," Mighell said laughing as he pointed to his prostitute's chest. "That will teach her to whore around. After that, she'll never go around behind my back again."

"Really?" Blake asked absently, as he wrapped the gold chain around his wrist and placed his hand back in his pocket. "Fascinating, I feel like I have much to learn from you."

"If you want, I'll be happy to give you some pointers. You seem like a man of means."

"I have plenty of money if that's what you mean," Blake said and then paused. "How much in debt are you?"

"I'll sell you little cunt for five grand."

"How's this?" Blake asked as he leaned into the Frenchman whose eyes were fluttering drowsily. "I'll pay you five hundred grand a week to work for me. You'll spy on the Balans for me; you'll report your findings to me. But, if you dare to have a single thought in your head I consider vulgar, I'll cut off your testicles and sew them into your eye sockets."

Mighell swallowed hard and seemed to wake up. He glared at Blake at a sudden loss for words. "Dégage!" He said. "Excuse me?"

"Do you understand what I said or do I have to repeat myself?" Blake stood up and motioned for Mighell to follow him outside. Mighell tried to resist but was compelled to follow. By the time he was stumbling through the street he was pissing himself out of fear.

Blake raised his wrist and showed Mighell the chain. "Do you know what this is?"

"You're a witch," Mighell said while spatting at the ground at Blake's feet.

"Yes, not my preferred term, but fine. This means I've bonded you to me, to my life force. You're now my servant to command."

"How is that possible?" Mighell demanded as he clutched his throat with both hands, slowly coming to understand what his drinking partner had offered him.

"It is possible," Blake said. "You are involved in the drug trade aren't you?" He chuckled and turned away. "Be careful, if you get too involved, you might find you've turned into a demon."

"You asshole!" Mighell screamed. "I'm going to kill you."

"You're not going to do anything," Blake said. "Come on, old chap, it's not so bad. I'm still going to throw in the five hundred grand if you don't piss me off. You can still buy your prostitutes and get your dick wet. Just not with the Balan girl. She's mine."

"Casse-toi!" Mighell yelled. "You rich mother fu-"

"You're going to make me teach you a lesson aren't you?" Blake asked. He walked over to the sobbing aristocrat and patted him on the shoulder. He leaned in and whispered in his ear, "I want you to bend over and bite your toes off."

Mighell started screaming and crying as his head began thrusting downward in the direction of his feet. His teeth snapped at the laces of his shoes. Blake crouched down by the duke's side and placed a flask of blood by his side. Mighell was sobbing desperately as he chewed through the leather of his shoes and the fabric of his socks. Blood was drenching his entire foot.

"After your bite off your toes, I want you to drink this blood to heal," Blake said. "And from now on, if you ever think of speaking to anyone about what happened tonight or about defying any of my commands, I want you to have an overwhelming urge to do this again. Except, next time you will set yourself on fire once you are done."

Blake pressed a handkerchief to his wrist and went to the waiting town car. As he sat down inside, Glenn pulled away from the curb. The chauffeur was laughing softly as he drove.

"Very flexible, isn't he?" Glenn said with barely restrained laughter. "There isn't an asshole alive who deserved that more than this one."