CHAPTER 4
When they walked into the Black Swan at midnight, the old innkeeper took one look at Joxer, blinked, and then glanced swiftly at Xena and Gabrielle, his gaze lingering slightly on the chakram at the warrior’s waist. He grunted in a way that could’ve been a greeting or a complaint, but was difficult to tell which coming from such a wizened face, then snapped his fingers twice. A young boy appeared so quickly he seemed to have sprung from the shadows. Xena recognized him as the boy who had bumped into Joxer at the tavern. The innkeeper pointed his thumb down the hallway to their right and mumbled that young Makus would show them the way.
The boy led them to a room at the end of the hallway and left them at the door. Xena entered first, noticed Jett rising from a comfortable chair by the fire, and moved her gaze swiftly around the room before letting her friends enter after her.
Joxer quickly went to his brother, but hesitated at the cold look in the assassin’s eyes and shifted nervously on his feet for a long moment. “Um, hey Jett. I didn’t expect you to be here.” Joxer scratched at the back of his neck, “Aren’t you supposed to be in prison?”
Jett’s fist shot out and slammed across Joxer’s jaw, sending him crashing down into the chair.
Gabrielle gasped and stepped forward, only to be halted by Xena’s arm in front of her. Xena shook her head and signaled for her to wait, not taking her eyes from the assassin. Gabrielle scowled, but stepped back, her hands clenching and unclenching at her sides, her palms itching to grab her sais.
Jett lifted Joxer from the chair and pulled his head under his arm, giving him a rough noogie. “That’s for not expecting me, idiot.” Joxer squirmed and grunted, pushing futilely against his brother’s grip. Jett ground his knuckles one last time into Joxer’s head and released him, then pulled him into a hearty embrace.
“He’s alive,” Jett muttered and Joxer went very still, clutching tight handfuls of leather on his brother’s back, then sagged against him in relief. Jett pulled him away by the back of the neck and pushed him down into the chair.
Xena grinned wryly at the men and Gabrielle huffed impatiently. “Joxer, what’s going on?”
Jett’s eyes gleamed and his lips curved in a leer as he looked her up and down, drawling her name out slowly. Joxer scrambled up from the chair, pulled at Jett’s arm and found his throat in Jett’s lightning fast grip. “Th-they know, J-Jett,” he choked out. “They know!”
Jett’s attention was caught by the movement of Xena’s fingers tapping idly on her chakram. She raised one raised eyebrow as his gleaming eyes swept over her as well, but when she curled her fingers around the weapon Jett shrugged, releasing his brother and letting him fall to the floor.
Gabrielle rushed over to help Joxer to his feet. “What is wrong with you?” She glared at Jett then pushed Joxer’s hands away from his throat to assess any injury herself. Joxer stood very still and gulped painfully as she examined him, running her fingers gently across the skin of his throat and up over his bruised cheek.
“Jace is alive.” Joxer wheezed, then hissed as Gabrielle accidentally pressed a sore spot.
Jett looked at Xena as he spoke. “I was closer to home when I had the dream and found him beaten and half drowned in the stream that runs through the west end of our father’s property. I have a healer looking after him.”
Joxer grasped Gabrielle’s hands away from his face, holding them still. “Where?”
Jett answered without breaking eye contact with the warrior, a small smile curving his lips. “Down the hall, second door to the right. Grelkor is standing guard, but he’ll let you pass.”
Joxer was out the door in a flash, Gabrielle behind him.
The warrior and the assassin stared at each other for another long moment before Jett sighed and plopped down into the chair and rubbed hard at his forehead.
“How bad is he?”
Jett shook his head, “Bad. His face was so pummeled; I wouldn’t have recognized him if not for the ridiculous outfit he was wearing. Whipped, twenty lashes at least. Dragged, too, by the looks of him, but not too far or there wouldn’t be anything left to drown. Got a few cracked ribs and shattered knee from it. They went easy on him.”
“They?” Xena grasped neck of his leather tunic in her fists and lifted him up to her face. “They, WHO?”
Jett hung loosely in her grip, his eyes blank and cold. “The Punishers. My father’s select and highly trained group of thugs.”
To Be Continued!
