Rushing back to the house, Cleo immediately walked past the two girls and curled up on the pallet furthest from the door. She hugged her legs and shook quietly, with the folder wrapped around her shins. It was hard, realising someone you had admired, even for a moment, was not what they seemed to be. She was angry at herself, and had no way to vent other than shut Law down. She had to stop him from hunting Rose ever again.
She had to find out more, so she grabbed the folder and wrenched it open. She took a deep breath and began reading. The folder contained the compiled work that the men under Robert Anvale had done over the last year, since the festival of the dead. It was heavy, detailed and came down to five points; First, that there were two major figures during the deaths of that day, both children, and both were considered extremely dangerous. Second, unfortunately due to trauma by the survivors there were no real descriptions of either child. The only thing that was known was that two parts of the city were hit at the same time, so there was no way that all three events were done by the same person. Third, the child that attacked Panwood Lane was the one that fit Rose’s description of the devourer, but the one that had committed the massacre in Rodah Vale and Spring Street was a much more physical killer. Unlike the charred husks that had been left behind, the corpses were all reminiscent of people having been crushed by trees. The two killers were on different ends of the spectrum when it came to death. Fourth, while the devourer had struck several more times since the festival, the other child had not shown up at all. There were many possible ideas about this, ranging from the idea that it was a massive reaction to a gang war, to an experiment by one of the clans that got out of control. They had no way of knowing, as the gangs themselves refused to co-operate whenever the bobbies tried. There was even a note from Captain Mallory about how his source inside Spring Street was unable to tell him anything. They simply could not give out information on that particular case. The final point that was made clear in the folder was that there was definitely some involvement with the clans. They had stuck their hands in the pie that was the run down areas of Spirit, and now the less desirable members of society were paying for it.
She was about to delve deeper into the hoard of information when Winoa called over. “Cleo!” she yelled, “Rose seems to be having a panic attack, give me a hand!” the girl was shaking far harder than Cleo had been earlier, her breathing was irregular and short. She had a far-away look in her eyes, and tears were streaming down her face. It was not pretty, but trauma never was. The two girls surrounded Rose and whispered calmly and quietly, making sure that there was nothing too intense for Rose to have to deal with.
Cleo left Rose with Winoa for a moment, to grab a kettle and teapot. She had no idea why, but redweed tea had a much greater effect on Rose than it had on a normal person, so she grabbed a handful, threw it in the pot and summoned her flame to begin boiling some water. She poured some tea into a cup, then pulled some heat out of the cup and presented it to Rose. The girl took the cup and held it, absentmindedly holding it, she took a couple of sips before some colour returned to her face. For the rest of the night, the two girls took turns looking over Rose to make sure she was alright. When the morning rolled around, both of them were tired from being so attentive, but Rose was a lot better.
As soon as she was able, Cleo got up and stormed off to the Empty Throne school. The entire way there, she was fuming with a rage that had gestated over an entire night of stressful work. After hammering against the door, a very surprised groundskeeper of the school came to meet her.
“Where is Jim?” Cleo demanded.
“Who? I’m afraid I don’t know who you’re talking about”. Cleo could not tell if the man was telling the truth or stonewalling her. She channelled mana into her fist and then slammed it into the door, making the whole thing shake with her Saint level strength.
“Jim, the guy with the pieces of paper near the arena yesterday”.
“Oh the betting boy?” The groundskeeper responded, flinching slightly at the girl after she hit the door. “I believe he lives in Spring Street, do you want to leave a message? I could give it to his friend who goes here, Law”.
Cleo gave the man a glare before saying “Don’t bother. I’ll meet him myself”. She walked off, ignoring anything else that the groundskeeper had to say. She knew she could not take on Law, he was simply too strong, so instead she would give his friend a piece of her mind. She walked briskly towards Spring Street. It was a long walk, but she would still get there comfortably for around midday. Each stride allowed the rage to fester even more. She was fuming. How could they? She thought. How could they lie like that? How could they treat another human being like that? How could they chase Rose like she was some sort of prize to be hunted and won?
The sun rose to its apex, and by the time it was a little past one in the afternoon, she had reached the street. She walked down the road, pounding on each door and questioning the people coming out of each home or building until finally she reached an abandoned bakery. She pounded against the door and there was no answer, but she heard movement behind the door. Taking a step back she shouted “I know you’re behind the door. If you do not open this door in the next ten seconds I will blow it up. I am in no mood to argue”. She gritted her teeth and waited, then after there was no response, she began counting out loud. “One. Two. Three...”
“Alright, alright,” said a voice behind the door. The door creaked open and a child a few years older than Cleo stood to answer her. “What do you want?”
“Jim. Does he live here?”
The boy swore. “What’s Jim done now?” He pressed against a symbol on the side of the door and began speaking into it. “Jim, come to the front entrance of the HQ, there’s a very angry young girl outside who wants to talk to you. Will that be everything?”
“Yes”.
After about five minutes, Jim walked out of the building and a flash of confusion streaked across his face when he saw Cleo. “Hi Cleo, I thought you were going to wait until I got back to you?”
“That was before I met Law in the street and discovered he is the monster we were looking for. How could you do that to us? To Rose? It makes me sick”.
“Look, Cleo, I don’t know what you’re talking about. I can vouch for the fact that Law is not the devourer. Sure he’s monstrously powerful, sure he’s a bit crazy, and sure he’s remorseless, but he’s not the devourer. I know because I met him six months before the devourer’s attacks began happening, and he was with me for the biggest one. Now calm down. I will help you, but Laurence is not your target”.
“Is that his real name?” Cleo said, slightly taken aback. She was not sure how to really react to Jim. In just a couple of sentences, he had taken the wind from her sails, and completely drained her anger towards Law. She could only really smooth her dress and hope that Jim would still help her.
“Yeah. He’s Laurence Absolution, my best friend, and a very broken human being, but definitely not the devourer”.
“He’s an Absolution clansman?” Cleo frowned. It did not make him any less likely to be the killer, but it did make her more hesitant to believe that he would kill in the way that the devourer had. Everyone had heard the tales of the great killer of the Absolution clan, and how he had killed. She rubbed her temples, now she really had no leads. She had no idea who it could have been. She could do nothing but apologise to Jim and return home. It was infuriating to her, but she was no closer to the answer to the problem than she had been at the beginning of the day.
She sat back down on her bedding and sighed as she began flicking through the folder once more. She ran through what Captain Mallory had written about the devourer, the nature of each corpse, and what had actually happened to them, and she could not help but gasp. The killer was sucking the very souls out of each of his targets, an abhorrent act to Cleo. She flicked to the final page and looked at Mallory’s notes. Immediately she gasped, the last line of the section was ‘I cannot help but assume that the perpetrator is one of Mephisto origin. A golden child, which means we can only give this to the clan itself and let them deal with it. The only clue we have to go on is the red hair”. Immediately a face and a name sprang to mind. She growled in fury as she thought of the person, the child who had once defended her from the person she was trying to save now. Peter, golden child of the Mephisto clan.
No comments:
Post a Comment