REVILED

Oria sauntered into the well-furnished instrument shop. All the instruments sparkled with fresh wax, and not a single speck of dust could be seen. The elderly shop keeper stepped out from the back room and stared at her.

“Mistress Oria,” Wilfried said with a nervous smile, “To what do I owe the pleasure?”

Oria smiled sweetly as she leaned on the counter, “I’m here to see you Wilfried,” she said pulling out a slip of paper from her pocket, “My boss has some merchandise he wants to sell.”

“My dear, I’m honored you thought of me,” Wilfried returned her pleasant smile, “But it’s against my better judgment to support my patron’s rival. I’m sorry.”

“Are you sure,” Oria slid the paper over.

Wilfried looked at the folded parchment, then quickly slipped it into his palm. His eyes scanned the contents of the notes, and his eyes grew large in shock. His eyes repeatedly glanced between Oria and the list.

“Is this accurate?”

“It is,” Oria said, running her finger over the desk, “My boss is sitting on a nice stock of cursed items that he wants to sell off, and I’m sure you could find the right buyers.”

Wilfried slipped the paper into his pocket, “If I was to do this, then I’ll need a thirty percent cut,”

“You usually take ten,” Oria scoffed.

“My dear,” Wilfried gently patted her hand, “If I do this, then I’ll need to flee the city. When Decker finds out, and he will, he’ll come after me and my family. It’s either thirty percent or nothing.”

“Fine, you can take thirty, but I’m expecting a list of your contacts.”

Wilfried held out his hand, “We have a deal,”

Strong hands held her down with the fingers digging into the flesh of her thighs and breasts. She wanted to scream, but the man forced his mouth against hers. She dug her nails into his back and sides, hoping the pain would make him stop, but it seemed to excite him more. When he broke away from the kiss, she could finally scream.

Meridith woke with her scream. Tears streamed down her cheeks, and she furiously wiped them away from her face, but she couldn't stop crying. Meridith buried herself in her sheets and tightly held onto her pillow. The pillow was crusty from the many nights she had cried into it.

A muffled knock came from the door, “Lady Meridith,” Vaera gently stepped inside, “I heard you scream, are you alright?”

“It was a bad dream,” Meridith said, unable to find the strength to pull back the covers, “Nothing to worry about.”

“Well…I brought you something to eat,” she heard the clattering of dishes, “I’ll leave it here on the desk for you. Also, mother, Ada and I are going to do some shopping, and everyone else is out running errands,” Meridith hissed in a breath as she tightened her grip on her pillow, “However, the master is in the basement. He said to call on him should you need anything.”

“Thank you, Vaera,” Meridith said as a small smile came to her lips, “Have a good time for me, will you.”

“I will, thank you,”

Meridith heard the door close, and Vaera’s footsteps disappeared. She slipped her fingers around the covers, but her strength quickly waned. Her heart slammed against her chest with each beat thundering in her ear. Breathing became difficult and Meridith was forced to take rapid shallow breaths. She pulled her hand back under the blankets.

“This…is pathetic,” Meridith whispered into her pillow.

She closed her eyes as her breathing calmed, then she quickly threw the blankets off. Slowly, she opened her eyes. Her bedroom had simple furnishings. A desk sat on the opposite side of the bed. A vanity and wardrobe sat next to the window with the daylight filling the room.

Meridith forced her breathing to remain calm as she pushed herself into a sitting position. She panted as her feet touched the floor. Meridith grunted and sneered as she pushed herself off the bed, and she stumbled over to the desk. A tray with a bowl of fruit sat on it. She popped a piece into her mouth, but it left no taste. As soon as she swallowed, her body tried to force it back up, and she fought the urge to vomit. Meridith panted heavily as drool seeped from her mouth, and she slowly ate the fruit. After the bowl was empty, she fell into the chair trying to catch her breath. Tears leaked from her eyes, and she covered her face with her hands. After a few seconds, she was able to calm herself. She let her hand fall onto the desk where it fell onto Ilan’s old spell book.

Meridith pulled the book closer and started to read. She had read it multiple times, and although she understood the part about the types of mana, she couldn’t quite grasp how to apply it. It mentioned how the air wasn’t empty. Instead, it was filled with aether, a solid substance that was so small that no one could see it, and that by using natural mana, this ether could be manipulated to perform magic.

“Next thing it’ll tell me is that lightning doesn’t come from the sky,” Meridith scoffed as she flipped the page.

She rolled her eyes as the book went into aether again, but a small note at the bottom caught her attention. Confused, she closed the book and tucked it under her arm. Meridith shuffled down the hall to the stairs and into the dining hall. The mess from that night no longer remained, but the ghosts of that night still lingered. She quickly made her way to the stairs leading to the basement. Inside, she found Reviled sitting in his booth. He had the six skeletal arms attached, each holding a piece of parchment, and he was reading all six at the same time. While doing that, he was writing down notes.

“What do you need from us, Meridith?” Reviled said, gently.

Meridith slowly walked into the room, “I was…hoping you could explain something for me. It’s about witchcraft.”

Reviled set the papers to the side and gestured for her to approach. Meridith sat to the side, but Reviled pulled her close, the skeletal arms gently wrapped around her. Meridith leaned against him as she handed the book over. The metal was surprisingly warm. Reviled scanned through the book, then its eyes dimmed for a few seconds.

“What do you want to know?”

“I don’t understand this line here,” Meridith pointed to a single sentence, “It mentions witchcraft as bending mana to fit the caster’s will.”

“From our memories, wizardry relies on an understanding of how the world works,” Reviled hummed in thought, but it came off as a growl, “For example, Produce Flame,” a small fire flickered over one of the right skeletal hands, “By gathering the aether in a small area and forcing the element to collide with itself, we can produce a small flame. We can then increase or decrease the size by changing the amount of mana we’re using.”

“But how is witchcraft different?”

“Witchcraft forces natural mana to conform to the witches’ desire,” Reviled looked at her, “We don’t know exactly how, since we haven’t devoured a witch, but it’s different enough since mages and wizards see it as inferior magic.”

“I see,” Meridith sighed in frustration.

“I’m back!” Oria’s voice echoed from the stairs. She stepped into the basement waving a thin sheet of parchment, “The deal’s going through boss,” her smile faded when she noticed Meridith, “How’re feeling Red?”

“I was doing well, until you showed up,” Meridith scoffed as she snuggled closer to Reviled.

Oria chuckled, “Same to you too, bitch,” she said crawling onto Reviled’s other side, “Wilfried’s going to set up the auction, boss.”

Reviled chuckled as it scooped Oria up with its other arms, “Excellent, when can we expect it to take place?”

“In a few weeks,” Oria smiled smugly at Meridith, who sneered in response, “He’ll send a messenger when he’s ready to hold it, and he’s willing to introduce us to his more prominent clients.”

“Well done, Oria,” Reviled said brushing her golden hair, “However, we’ll need you to do some shopping for us. Anonymity is our greatest weapon, and we’d hate to lose it.” He handed Oria a note, “Also, deliver this to Andren for us as well.”

Halligan stared down at the parchment in front of him. He’d been helping with the investigation into Maelon’s death, and these were the notes he had taken. His notes were practically illegible, each word sloppily written, and every other word misspelled. His sentences slopped downward, so a chunk of the page was left unused.

“Master Halligan,” the court mage’s call drew his attention, “Why don’t you leave the scribing to me.”

“I appreciate the offer Elizar, but I’d like to take my own notes,” Halligan said with a small smile, “Lady Priscilla was kind enough to teach me these skills, so I’d like to use them as much as possible.”

Elizar smiled and nodded, “Very admirable sir, I’m sure her ladyship would be pleased to know you value her teachings so much.”

“Have you found anything?”

Elizar flipped through his notes, “The only thing that was found was a letter addressed to his grace by ‘a friend,’ and magister Cromwell was able to find a record of the Decker estate booking the bath for the entire night.”

Halligan scratched at his chin, “Why would his grace go to a bathhouse when the castle already has impressive baths?”

“It’s not unusual,” Elizar said, “Sometimes, lesser nobles and supporters wish to earn the Duke’s favor, and there were many who wanted to get into Sir Maelon’s good graces, since he was the next in line. Not to mention, the Decker’s have been staunch supporters of the Duke and his family for decades. I’m more curious about the other body.”

“The bath attendant,” Halligan flipped through his notes, “It’s obvious that she died from a strike to her head. There were others who died of similar injuries correct?”

“Yes,” Elizar pulled out some documents, “According to these reports there have been a total of forty victims reported, but I’m certain there are more. Oddly enough, the last victims seen with these wounds were…”

“The arena owners,” Halligan finished.

“That was nearly a year ago,” Elizar scratched his head, “What has this person been doing since then?”

“Not sure. Is there anything that the victims have in common?”

Elizar scanned through records, and he stared in shock at Halligan, “Yes, more than half of them were associated with Bartholomew Decker.” Halligan hummed in thought, “What is it?”

“Baron was the one who told Solomon, Schybara, and me about the tome and where we could find it,” Halligan scrunched his nose, “That’s where we found the monster who had it. I…think the monster might be tied to these murders.”

“And to Bartholomew Decker,” Elizar said taking down notes, “I’ll bring this information to his Grace and magister Cromwell and see how they want to proceed. I’ll let you know what they say.”

Halligan nodded as he picked up his notes. The thought of the monster being tied to this made him nervous, but if he could find proof, then maybe the Duke couldn’t ignore it. It’s a shame that Maelon had to die though. He passed the librarian’s desk, a young man with a stout belly stood at it. It had been a month since Ema was last seen, and chances are she was dead, and they’d never know what happened to her. He turned towards the door and felt something run into him.

“Lady Priscilla,” Halligan said helping the girl to her feet, “I’m sorry, I didn’t see you.”

“It’s my fault for not paying attention,” Priscilla said giving him a sad smile. Her eyes were bloodshot and puffy, and her nose was a bright red.

“I’m sorry I haven’t had time to spend with you my lady,” Halligan kneeled to look her in the eye.

Priscilla nodded as cleared her throat, “You’re trying to find my brother’s killer,” she said with a steely gaze, “Have you…made any progress?”

“Some, Elizar is giving our report to the Duke,”

“May I ask you what you found?” She stared at him with glistening wide eyes.

Halligan’s heart throbbed, and he leaned in close to her ear, “We think it’s tied to the person whose been committing murders around the city,” he whispered, “And we think this person is somehow tied to Bartholomew Decker.”

“What…does Decker have to do with this?” she clung tightly to his arm.

“We’re not sure,” Halligan gently touched her hand, but her scared look made him worried, “What’s wrong, my lady?”

Priscilla quickly looked around before dragging him over to a secluded aisle within the bookshelves. She peeked at the librarian who was nodding off.

Priscilla whispered to him, “I think the Deckers are criminals,”

“What makes you think that?” Halligan kept his voice quiet.

“It’s the way I hear people talk about them,” she leaned in closer, “I often hear conversations I’m supposed to because people think I’m not in the area,” Halligan clenched his fist in frustration, “Lately, I’ve heard people talking about an auction taking place, and Bartholomew’s name was used several times. Their tone makes it sound…sinister.”

“Do you know when this auction is?”

“In a few days,” She said with a hard glare, “At a place they call the fairgrounds. I’m having my handmaid figure out where that is.”

Halligan took her hand, “You need to stay out of this my lady,” he said looking her in the eye, “It’s dangerous.”

Fury lit Priscilla’s eyes, “They may have been responsible for my brother’s murder,” she snapped.

“If they are, then I’ll bring them to justice,” Halligan gently rubbed the back of her hand, “Please, leave this to me.” Priscilla’s eyes grew watery as she nodded, “Thank you, I promise that I’ll avenge Sir Maelon.”

Priscilla tightly embraced him, “Thank you.”