“Is the blood yours then? Someone attacked you? Where?” the giant barked, sliding one of his oversized hands over Laurent’s hips, only to slip it under the tails of his coat.
Laurent pushed at the giant’s arms, intent to at least signal that the indignity of being patted down like a cow was something he would not stand for, but it was like shoving a massive boulder.
Should he admit to his crime? Would he be rewarded for it in a place where skulls were decoration? He couldn’t confess until he was sure.
“N-no. I don’t think it’s mine. I don’t know. Is this hell?” he asked in exasperation when the huge hands of the giant were finally off him.
The man released a deep groan and stretched to his full height. He was so tall the tip of Laurent’s head barely reached his collarbones, and now that Laurent was close, he realized how odd the giant smelled, too. Without even a hint of sweat or sulphur, the man’s odor was one of ale, musk, and lemon peel. No man smelled this clean unless straight out of a bath.
“You will explain yourself to King,” the giant said sternly.
Laurent swallowed, suddenly self-conscious about his own state. Just hours ago, his biggest worry was if Mr. William Fane noticed his enameled pin, and now he was about to meet the king of hell, covered in blood. Maybe the king would like him that way.
“You will take me to your king?” Laurent tried to speak in a more confident manner, but it was hopeless next to the frightening dog and a man taller than any other Laurent’s ever met.
The giant stared at him in silence. “You know King?” he asked in the end.
Laurent swallowed. It seemed that the rules of language were different here. “I know of him.”
The giant sighed and pulled something out of a pocket in his trousers. The item, which looked very much like a small black notebook, was then pressed against his ear, and moments later, he spoke.
“King, we have an intruder in the clubhouse. Come to mine immediately. I’ll get him there,” the man said, already pulling Laurent back to the door.
Laurent took a deep breath, but it didn’t help at all when the giant dragged him along the corridor with the strength of a bull. “Please, don’t manhandle me. I was intending to meet King before you apprehended me.”
“You should have requested an audience then,” hissed the giant, walking back through the same corridor Laurent had run through earlier. “He doesn’t like to be surprised.”
Laurent wanted to speak but pushed his body against the giant when the humongous dog rushed past him, brushing its muscular body against Laurent’s legs.
“I didn’t mean any disrespect,” he tried, feeling so weak against the body that seemed to be made of pure muscle. All the creature needed was horns.
“I don’t care what you meant. You are on our property. You’ve come here covered in so much blood you might as well have skinned someone! You should be glad I didn’t blow your brains out. You’re not even local, are you?”
“I did not skin anyone!” Laurent raised his voice as panic seeped under his skin. Would he be tortured? Should he just admit to his crime and spare himself the pain? “I could say if I was local if I knew where I was,” he said, throwing the giant a bone that could either be his salvation or source of yet more antagonism, depending on how proficient the man was at detecting attempts at manipulation.
The giant stopped in the dusty corridor and looked at him. The dog barked from the end of the hallway, as if calling them over, but it went quiet when the giant shushed it with a gesture. “What do you mean? Did someone bring you here?”
Laurent swallowed, sizzling in the fire of the giant’s scrutiny. “I was sent here voluntarily.” Was that an agreeable answer though? Maybe he should pretend he was dumb and knew nothing? It could be easier to navigate that position until he understood this new realm better.
“By who?” asked the giant, walking Laurent down the hallway with less aggression to his movements.
“I don’t know. Please, I’m confused,” Laurent said, keeping the submissive posture and voice. The new tactic seemed to work much better than confrontation.
“What’s the last thing you remember? Do you know whose blood this is? Do you work at a living history museum?” the giant asked, taking Laurent into corridors he hadn’t seen yet. It was much darker here, and he struggled with the worry that he’d end up stumbling again. But the giant’s grip on Laurent’s arm was secure enough that he would keep Laurent upright if that happened.
“A museum… where you keep the living?” He didn’t like the sound of that at all. Damned souls locked behind glass for an eternity while demons came to gawp at their naked bodies. His mind was getting fuzzier by the moment.