Walking into the Crone’s shack was so much worse than he’d expected. The great weight in his gut shifted, and suddenly he felt untethered as it all caught up with him. A heady, bitter smoke tangled with the sharp metallic scent that already clung to him. It made him nauseous and his head spin. The floor reached out to him, but really it was him falling to his knees after only a few hesitant steps into the room. Bile burned the back of his throat. Clenching his eyes shut, he focused on his heartbeat. He couldn’t think of the smell, or the body outside, or the killer, or Dannette. It was too much, too fast and he had a job to do. One chime. Two. He lost count, but finally his mind was free to go beyond the thudding of his heart. For the moment at least, the turmoil within him had settled and he had control over the contents of his stomach. He opened his eyes, and took in the room around him, trying his best to ignore his sense of smell. Scanning the sparsely furnished room, nothing really stuck out to him save for the soft glow coming from the backroom. The woman did not have much of note at least in this main room, and he wondered what exactly he should be looking for. A couple tables and some lights. His eyes drifted to the backroom again. Hesitantly, he moved to the doorway, pausing at the threshold for a moment to catch his breath. He could just barely make out the general shapes of the room’s features through the gauzy cloth. Taking in a deep breath, he really hoped he wasn’t about to stumble across another body as he pulled back the sheets. The smoke hit him first, causing his eyes to water. He rubbed them with the heel of his hand and blinked several times to try to adjust to the thicker air. It helped, but not much. Through blurry eyes, he could make out the table and overturned chair. He blinked several more times, and finally he could see clear if he squinted. His stomach roiled as he saw the blood on the tablecloth, and the droplets that trailed towards him across his floor. The trail disappeared under his shoe and continued out the doorway he’d come through. As he turned around, he could faintly make out the darker spots trailing off, possibly out the door he came through, but it was harder to make out in the sparse light of the main room. He looked down at his feet again and sighing with disgust stepped out of the way of the blood trail, leaving a little smear behind. His mind itched to fret more over the shoe thing, so instead he focused on the table. His eyes avoided looking at the blood-stained tablecloth directly. On the table he saw two cups, and a strange deck of cards. Vaguely, he recalled seeing the occasional street peddler in Alvadas with a set of cards, but these were larger, and look like more time had been spent illustrating them. Had she been playing a game with her killer? Had it been interrupted? Neither thought seemed to fit right, but he didn’t know what he wasn’t seeing here. One cup was empty, the other full. One chair had been knocked over. The shelves seemed undisturbed but really, how would he know if anything was missing? Then there were the cards, which as he got a closer look seemed marred by blood in a few places. He hesitated. Had the killer taken these cards out after killing the Crone? If so, why had they done it? Biting his lip, he resolved to go find Madeira and Dev’Ania to see what they could make of the backroom. He turned to see Madeira standing on the threshold, and immediately relaxed. He’d been so caught up in events, he hadn’t even realized how tense he’d been just now, but the sight of a familiar face was enough to soothe his nerves. Her words hit him like lead and filled up the hollowness he’d created to survive this place. “I don’t know. I think that she probably sat with her killer, and it looks like she was playing a game when it happened. The only thing interesting I found was these cards that have blood on them. I think that could mean the killer handled them. Do they mean anything to you?” |