by Lucy Appleby
She saw that dreadful man again. He was lounging by the wall outside the blacksmith's shop, staring at her as she approached from the opposite end of the village. His dark reptilian eyes glittered and his mouth curved into a mocking smile. She shuddered, determined not to acknowledge him as she passed. He made her feel uncomfortable. When he looked at her, it was as though he was seeing inside her head, scanning all her innermost thoughts and feelings, processing her weaknesses, storing them up for use against her. The villagers suspected him of having dark powers, but were too afraid to shun him outright in case he turned them into toads or dung beetles. There was certainly something oddly disturbing about Arkham Maksim, and as Kay hurried past him she kept her head down, eyes glued to the rough road beneath her feet.
"Mmmm, what a pretty little thing."
His voice was an appreciation of deep chocolate velvet. He barred her way, standing over her, a tall vital presence. Breaking her resolve, Kay looked up into an intensely expressive face framed by sleek dark hair. His eyes were mysterious and deep and brimming with surreptitious knowledge. At such close quarters he was an outstandingly handsome man.
She gaped at him, her surprise mirrored on her face. He took another step closer, and his wide sensual mouth curled into an appealing, welcoming smile. He reached out with his right hand and caressed the side of her face with his long tapering fingers, and with his other hand he stroked her dark waving hair, giving it a little tug so that she had to tilt her head back. Her blue eyed gaze was swamped within the darkness of his eyes, so deep brown as to be almost black. They penetrated her, searchingly teasing out all her secrets and fears.
"And if I am not mistaken, you are still a virgin," he added, dryly.
Kay blushed furiously. "How dare you make such a remark!"
"Oh I dare," he replied suavely. "I dare do anything." His eyes flared and then narrowed a little. "Anything," he whispered, surprising her by delivering a sudden hard spank on her bottom.
Kay squealed, outraged by his behaviour. She was so stunned she was at a loss for words. Her face beet red, she pushed passed him and practically ran along the road. His soft laughter followed her.
"We will meet again soon, you and I. Of that you can be certain, Miss Kay Archer."
Kay marched on without a backward glance, bristling at the effrontery of the man, and feeling a slight unease that he knew her name. Still, it was a small village; it would be relatively easy to find out who was who, especially if one happened to be a sorcerer. She would go home to her father and put all thoughts of Arkham Maksim out of her mind.
Kay's father sat at the table, eating bread and cheese, and drinking ale. There were two empty flagons of ale by his platter. Kay sighed; since Mother died almost a year ago, her father had taken to drinking and gambling in equal measure. It was his way of consoling himself of her loss. Alcohol dulled the pain, and nothing that Kay said could help assuage his grief and encourage him to mend his ways. But on the occasions when he smiled, his face radiated the old familiar brightness, and the bright periwinkle blue of his eyes greeted her with a twinkle.
"Greetings, daughter. Come and eat with me, and then I would like you to launder my best shirt, for I am going out this evening."
"Where are you off to?" she asked, already knowing the answer.
"I am meeting friends at the inn. I won't be in for supper tonight. Lock the door when I am gone, and be sure not to open it for anyone except me."
"I'm no longer a child, father. I am almost eighteen. I will be safe enough."
"Aye," his eyes misted. "You are grown into a lovely young woman - so like your dear mother."
The grief enveloped him again and his head sagged down on his chest, and he slipped into a fuddled stupor and slept for the rest of the afternoon. When he awoke, he washed and shaved, and put on the freshly laundered shirt that Kay had laid out for him on his bed.
"I will be late home, daughter. There is no need for you to wait up." He stooped and kissed Kay's cheek.
"Yes, father," she murmured, and gave him a hug.
After he left, Kay made a simple supper for herself and spent the rest of the evening reading and mending. Sitting in her chair close to the fire, her eyelids grew heavy and the needle and cloth fell from her fingers as she dozed in the warmth.
Shortly before midnight a loud noise woke her. It was the sound of a thud outside the front door of the house, as though something heavy had banged against it. Jerked rudely awake, Kay reached for the candle and stepped hesitantly towards the door.
"Who is there?" Silence. "Is that you, Father?"
There was no reply, but a new sound could be heard - the clatter of horses hooves growing ever fainter as the animal rode away from the house. With trembling fingers, Kay drew back the bolts from the door and turned the heavy iron key in the lock. She pushed the door. Something was blocking its passage. She pushed harder, and a faint groan sounded.
"Father?"
Feelings of panic surged as Kay shoved the door as hard as she could. The limp body of her father lay slumped on the doorstep. Kay's panic turned to anger as the tell tale smell of ale and sour wine assailed her nostrils. He was drunk again - reduced to an inert helpless lump on the floor. Tucking her hands underneath his shoulders, Kay struggled to drag him inside. The movements made him stir a little, and he mumbled something unintelligible and then began snoring.
Kay left him there and returned with a blanket. She was just about to throw it over her father's prone form when she noticed the note pinned to his coat. She retrieved it, tossed the blanket over her father, and returned to her chair by the fire. By the light of the flickering candle, she read the words on the parchment, penned with a bold hand in black ink.
Dear Miss Archer
Your father has incurred a substantial gambling debt. If this is not paid to me in full by midnight tonight, there will be dire consequences.
Yours in anticipation,
Arkham Maksim
Arkham Maksim! What hold had that man over her father? Kay jumped to her feet and shook her father roughly. He opened his eyes only long enough to mutter a few words and then went back to sleep. Angry and afraid, Kay unceremoniously tipped a pitcher of cold water over her father's head. He sat up at once, coughing, spluttering and cursing.
"What is the meaning of this, father?" She thrust the note at him.
"What?" he said groggily.
So Kay read the note out loud. "What have you done, father? How much do you owe this man?"
As lucidity returned, Thomas Archer paled as the events of the evening whirled around in his head.
"Kay. My dearest daughter. I - I have been extremely foolish. I - I had a wager and I lost. I lost." He shook his head in disbelief.
"What did you wager, father?"
"Three bags of gold coin."
"What?!"
Now it was Kay's turn to turn pale. "But - we only have half a bag left. How can we pay him? There must be something we can do."
Thomas bit his lip. He had a terrified expression on his face.
"Do you know what the dire consequences are that he refers to?"
Thomas nodded. His skin turned from white to a haggard grey colour.
"What are they? Tell me, father."
Thomas reached for Kay's hand and held it tightly. "Part of the wager was that if I cannot pay the money, he is to take you into his service for a year and a day, to do with as he will. Forgive me, Kay. I beg your forgiveness. I am truly sorry."
Kay reeled in shock. "You wagered ME? ... And if I refuse?"
"He will kill me and burn our home to the ground."
"Oh father," sobbed Kay. "How could you do this to me? How could you!"
Breaking free of his hold, she grabbed her shawl and ran out of the house into the night. Running blindly along the road, the thick black liquid darkness enveloped her, for the sky was cloudy and there was no moon or stars to light her way.
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