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Aric already knew he failed.
He knew when he stalked after those bounty hunters and fired his crossbow, striking the man in the neck. It could have been seen as him killing off the competition, but deep down he understood his intentions were much different. He was protecting those in that room, and he couldn’t tell himself it was anything other than that.
Shooting another arrow just for good measure, he smiled as they fled. Making his way to the door, he listened for noises inside while keeping an eye out on the hallway. Whether the clientele were all downstairs, passed out from too much drink, or simply too scared or bored to see what the ruckus was all about, no doors opened. No nosy neighbors, no peering eyes; it would have all made for an easy kill.
But then he tried the door, heard the whispers—hers, to be exact—and he kind of lost himself after that. His pulse pounded in his ears, and despite trying to push the door against whatever barricade they had on the other side, he felt something terrible and longing that was making his breath shaky.
Hope.
“Jocelyn?” he called out, picturing her standing on the other side. When he didn’t hear a response, he pushed against the door again, needing to see she was there, hoping she was. He felt relentless, even dropping the crossbow in order to push harder, his grunts and deep breaths keeping time with the thumping of the door against the bookcase. But once he broke through the barricade, able to side step into the room, he found it empty.
Picking up his crossbow, he pushed the bookcase all the way over so he could step over it. He saw then the sheets tied to the bed leg and the window open, rain water spilling into the room. Although she was gone, he still sensed her, the ghost in the room.
Keeping his hood on, he marched to the window and leaned out, searching the streets. Nothing was there, no signs of life except for lights in the nearby windows. Stepping back into the room, Aric didn’t bother to take the hood off. He looked about him, even taking in a deep breath as if he’d be able to smell her. When nothing came, he made his way back to the door, feeling a little sorry for the owner who’d have to clean up the mess.
Shoving the bookcase a little more out of the way, he sat his crossbow on it and then proceeded to drag the dead body into the room by his legs. Thank God you weren’t the bigger guy, Aric thought as he walked backwards, a streak of blood trailing behind, staining the floor. He grunted as he worked, and once he had the man dragged into the corner, he dropped the legs and bent down to pull the arrow out of the man’s neck. Cleaning the blood off the arrow, he then searched through the man’s pockets, coming across some coins he stashed away in his own pocket.
“Nothing personal,” he told the body as he came to his feet and retrieved his crossbow. As he put his foot in the stirrup of the crossbow to help latch the arrow in place, he planned his next move. There was no point in running after them now; they would be long gone, and the storm would cover their tracks well. It was the same tactic he used on several occasions. The only saving grace was that their route was predictable and he'd ultimately be able to catch up to them.
First, he needed to find those three remaining bounty hunters. They were clearly amateurs, which would make things easy. Aric normally wouldn’t have cared and simply beat them to their competition, but something about having an extra threat lingering around Joss and Henrik wasn’t sitting well with him. Even if they gave up and went home, they’d still be a threat; the chances of them telling someone about their whereabouts might fall on more ambitious ears, and then Aric would really have his job cut out for him. No, he needed to be rid of these three, clean up their tracks so no other threats would follow later, even if it meant backtracking a little to do it.
Aric journeyed into the hallway, closing the bedroom door behind him. He walked the long hallway, moving in the direction those bounty hunters fled, when a door at the end opened, squeaking on its hinges. He held the crossbow down at his side, acting nonchalant though able to bring it up and fire if needed. Keeping his pace steady, he kept walking as someone short and stoutly meandered into the hallway. Seeing the man’s head, Aric came to a dead halt, his grip tight on his crossbow.
While the stranger was dressed in regular clothes—resembling that of a storekeeper or merchant—it was the black mask on his face that was very much out of character. Aric's mouth went dry as the stranger stumbled forward, unaware of what he was doing. He was saying something underneath the mask, slurring and running into the wall as he made his way to Aric.
Once the man was within reach, Aric pulled the mask off of him, revealing a very happy drunk whose words were nothing but muttering lyrics from some song he heard. Not realizing he had even been wearing a mask, the drunkard continued on, stumbling all the way to the stairs in which he used the wall to help himself down.
Eyeing him, Aric kept part of his attention on the door that still remained open at the end. Looking the mask over, he found no messages, no insights to what it might be besides a face covering. The problem was that he knew men who wore this, one that was after him.
Tossing the mask aside, Aric drew up his crossbow and proceeded on, aiming for the doorway. Reaching the room, he peered in, finding it was the same layout as the other room, though much more put together. However, no one was there; no open window, no tied sheets. Even the bed was still made. No signs showed that a masked drunkard had ever been there.
Aric gritted his teeth, the chill biting against his neck. It was a warning, his mind poked at him as he closed the door so that no one could surprise him, the door opening being his alarm. Checking under the bed and finding it bare, he crossed the room to check the window, finding no residue from the rain, the window never previously opened.
Leaning his shoulder against the window, he looked from the rain-drenched forest that backed against the building and then to the door. The Mask was somehow still keeping tabs on him, and the thought settled uncomfortably all the way down into his gut.
Looking down to check the crossbow for good measure, he happened to glance out the window right when something moved among the trees, the rain streaks against the glass helping to hide the passing shadow. Bending down on one knee, he lifted the window a little so he could see better. The rain splattered against his chin as he found it wasn’t just one figure, but two... and then three, a petite one following along behind.
They were traveling on foot, possibly off to gain their horses they tied up somewhere else. It was a hunch, but a good possibility given how many people frequented the tavern that night. Comparing their sizes, Aric assumed it was the bounty hunters, traveling in the direction he assumed Joss and the others would be going.
So they weren’t giving up, Aric thought, smiling at the opportunity of staying on track.
Good.
