Quartet of Whiskers from the Abyss Within

By Frank Spreader

In the relentless pursuit of payback for the tragic demise of his parents, Wintie Rayado finds himself entangled with a mysterious quartet of bearded figures emerging from the shadows of the cave without a name. Bound by a common thirst for revenge against a formidable foe, their fates take a harrowing turn in this suspenseful tale that echoes the signature twists of a Frank Spreader’s thriller.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Frank Spreader
• Release date: Jan 11, 2024
• ISBN: 9798215881279

Frank Spreader

Incurable writer. Creator. Extreme reader. Travel fanatic. Introvert. Friendly coffee junkie. Music ninja. Internet nerd. Unapologetic entrepreneur. Thinker.

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QUARTET OF WHISKERS FROM THE ABYSS WITHIN

Copyright 2024 Frank Spreader

Published by Frank Spreader at Smashwords

Smashwords Edition License Notes

This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be resold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your enjoyment only, then please return to Smashwords.com or your favorite retailer and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, businesses, companies, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

PROLOGUE:

FURY

Pass that on to him, rasped the mustached guy. I need an answer from him today, Kalin. You catchin my drift?

Kalin, the individual in question, offered a nod of acknowledgment as he accepted the proffered letter.

If he’s yappin too much, said the mustached guy, just sort it out. Head out now if you gotta. Bring Sairy along if needed.

Kalin rose from his seat and departed the room.

And as he just vanished behind that door, Supreme, the thick-mustached man, muttered, Damn right, a cursed, forbidden woman. He balled up his right fist and delivered a blow to the teakwood table before him.

The tabletop splintered into pieces. The table’s four legs plunged three inches into the tiled floor, causing the tiles to crack and splinter.

Afterward, Supreme rose to his feet. He quivered with a rage he could scarcely rein in. And he mouth-yawned once more. Muttering to himself, A blind woman left on her own for a year, outta nowhere gets hitched and ends up pregnant, damn, and now she’s got a kid, damn it. He rose, his breath pounding against the window, and proceeded to stride toward another table situated in the room. He took a gulp of cool water from a pitcher.

Yet, only a pair of sips of water had traversed his throat. The pitcher had been depleted.

Dang it, Supreme said again. He hurled the jug to the ground, smashing it into a chaotic mess.

A middle-aged woman appeared at the adjacent door, but catching sight of him in a fit of rage, she promptly hushed and retreated out of view.

Finally, worn out on his own, Supreme continued to curse and fume in such a manner. He flung himself into a chair. And at this moment, he became acutely aware of the fatigue in his body. Wiltha! hollered he.

The middle-aged woman who had shown up at the entrance hurriedly replied, Yes, Master Supreme.

You’re damn too, barked Supreme at the woman. He spit and splattered, and Wiltha refrained from wiping the saliva that moistened her face. How many times I gotta say, don’t be callin me by that name? Are you goin crazy or you just keep forgettin, huh?

Wiltha fell into silence, her body shivering with fear. Once more, it slipped her mind.

Once more, Wiltha called Supreme Supreme, despite his frequent instructions to address him by the name Lyvonte Bicette.

Come on, I’m askin, you gone crazy or somethin with that answer, woman?

No, Master Supreme, I mean, Lyvonte Bicette.

If you ain’t gone crazy, you must be out of your mind. Fetch me some water. Hurry up.

Wiltha pivoted her body. Shortly after, she came back with a glass of clear water. The chilled water offered a slight soothing to Supreme’s troubled heart.

Subsequently, Supreme settled calmly into the chair, squinting his eyes. Hence, the images of the bygone year came flooding back.

Back then, Supreme had been familiar with Submit for quite a while. He was aware that the girl harbored no fondness for him, yet he persisted in encountering her by the riverside, where she did her laundry. He harbored the hope that, in time, he could soften the girl’s heart.

Certainly, eventually, Submit agreed to converse with and serve Supreme. Yet, it wasn’t due to any affection toward him, but solely out of sheer pity.

Regrettably, Supreme misinterpreted the situation. He had a hunch that Submit was now smitten with him.

Once upon a time, a sorcerer called upon Supreme at Guadalupe Peak.

Before hitting the road, Supreme caught up with Submit and said, Submit, I’m headin to Guadalupe Peak. Might be a whole year fore I’m back. I hope you’ll wait it out. If I return, I’ll make you my wife.

But, Supreme, Submit paused mid-sentence as, at that moment, Supreme stepped toward her, reaching out to give her a hug. She stepped away and said, Don’t, Supreme. People might see.

Subsequently, Supreme departed, leaving no further opportunity for Submit to clarify that she disliked the man and had previously rejected his proposal.

As he left, Submit eventually wed a young man she loved, who reciprocated that love. For her, her union with Ran was in no way a betrayal of Supreme, as she never harbored any love for him and never professed such feelings. And so it was. Should he return from his journey on that day, the initial news that reached him was... What infuriated him to the core was the fact that she had tied the knot with Ran. The married couple had even welcomed a baby boy. Their lives, while modest, were filled with joy, and he now held the position of village chief in Dimmitt.

If he, a man with a face and some dignity, was aware of her marriage, Supreme should gracefully retreat. It would be downright embarrassing if he persisted in pursuing Submit, especially when she had no affection for him, and, on top of that, she’d now married and had a child. However, he, not possessing a clear-headed mind, quickly lost his temper and became blindly enraged. Therefore, he promptly dispatched his underlings to Dimmitt with a letter of threat intended for Ran.

Lyvonte Bicette, formerly known as Supreme, stood up from his chair at the sound of thunderous hoofbeats in the courtyard. Approaching the window, he observed the departure of the two underlings. His fingers clenched the window frame.

I gotta get Submit, I gotta, Lyvonte Bicette muttered within the turmoil of his anger. If not, he didn’t finish his words.

In its place, his left hand moved, striking the window frame. And the wooden sill broke into a chaotic mess.

CHAPTER I:

THE SHADOWS’ WALTZ

They halted their steeds before an elderly gentleman engrossed in the act of uprooting the lawn’s greenery.

Without getting off the horse, Kalin asked gruffly, This here Ran’s place?

The old soul rose deliberately from the crouch. Upon standing, it became manifest that his form was compact and stooped.

He raised his head and shifted the bamboo hat that veiled his brow to get a better view of the person addressing him. The elderly figure held off on an immediate reply, instead casting a sidelong glance at Sairy, perched on the horse’s back to Kalin’s right.

Dang foolish old timer, Kalin spat. This lean fella ain’t got no patience. I asked if this here’s Ran’s place.

Yep, he answered. What you need, buddy?

The stout and diminutive Sairy was the one who broke the silence. His voice was raspy and grating to the ears.

No need to pry into our matters, you old coot, Sairy retorted, yanking on the horse’s reins.

With a single lunge forward, the old man was sent sprawling, caught by the hooves of Sairy’s mount. The elderly figure rose with deliberate slowness. His age-fogged eyes appeared to glint with a hint of vitality.

He casually kicked aside the bamboo hat with his left foot. The hat zipped toward Sairy’s face like a swift arrow, colliding with the steed’s groin beneath him. The male horse emitted a resounding whinny. Its forelimbs catapulted upward, sending him sprawling to the ground.

The old man took quiet pleasure in it. Displaying an unaffected demeanor, he twisted and crouched once more and resumed the task of uprooting grass in the yard. The orbs of the stout, short man gleamed brightly. For a brief spell, all things took on a somber hue in Sairy’s perspective.

What’s up with you, Sairy? Kalin asked, taken aback and curious.

I ain’t sure myself, Sairy responded, rising and giving his pants a few pats. He surveyed his surroundings.

There was nobody in sight except for the old man who had been tearing up the grass. Next, the man’s gaze met the bamboo hat lying nearby on the ground. Suspicion crept into his heart.

Yet, upon a second look, the old, thin, and stooped figure dispelled the suspicion.

Inconceivable, Sairy mused. It seemed implausible that the doting old man was the one who had tossed the