by Feng Yue
The servant helped the weak Cullen out the room. Alone in the still library, Spencer activated the hidden door and walked into a small room. He sat on the chair and took a deep breath, closing his eyes. When he opened them again, he had become a bird of prey. A vulture flying in the sky.
—
When he arrived at the top of the clock tower, the secret meeting was already chaotic. The angry and panicking birds were all arguing and shouting at each other.
The vulture closed its wings. Landing in the center, he realized that those in attendance were all very familiar—they were all ‘partners’ he had worked with.
The weathered pelican was trying to maintain order, “Everyone, please calm down. Do not argue!”
“Pelican! Do you truly understand our state now?” the magpie screeched. “What’s the situation with the letter?”
The vulture flinched. He was not the only one to receive a letter. Making his way around, he discovered that a total of fourteen families had received a mysterious letter. Six families had already been visited by secret police.
“Where’s the green falcon?” the vulture asked.
“Taken away,” the owl answered coldly, descending from the sky. “I just received the news a few minutes ago.” The flock of birds fell silent, panic in their eyes.
“Please calm down.” The pelican was much more composed in comparison, “It’s obvious that our relationship with the Pyramid Scheme has been discovered. The records of our illegal trades have been revealed. There is no turning back at this point. We need to take care of the aftermath. The aftermath, do you understand?”
“Who can this Holmes fellow be?” The owl grit its teeth in anger, “I want this b*stard to die without a complete corpse! Where’s the robin? Isn’t he in charge of downtown?”
“Panic not, friend. I am here.” A blue robin descended from the sky, landing in the crowd. It said lightly, “My men are investigating.”
“F*ck, all they can do is investigate and investigate!” the vulture roared. “Those useless pieces of sh*t can’t find anything!”
The pelican nodded, “The only ones who are willing to work for us in downtown is the Pyramid Scheme, but are they still trustworthy? We must receive an explanation from Sam!”
“Sam has disappeared. He knows that we’ll look for him. Of course he’ll hide” someone said.
The robin had a worse thought, “Or maybe he had already fallen into the hands of this Holmes.”
Hesitating, the pelican said, “I can ask a musician from the School of Modifications for help. Maybe they can find some evidence from the letter.”
“There’s no use. We’ve already done so.” The owl shook his head, “The master Monet had already looked at the letter. There is nothing that can be traced—no fingerprints, no sweat, no body odor. The man wore gloves, and no medium can be used to trace his identity. He is skilled in this. He might even be a musician.”
“What about the paper? The paper is the best medium!”
“We’ve tried it.” The owl continued, “The things that the music score ‘Yesterday Once More’ found was too messy. It includes the breaths of many musicians, but we can’t find any matches. It’s as if the letters were written in the Musician’s Association!
“We don’t need the police either. Even a blind man can see that it was written by an elite…or the scribe of an elite family. Fellows, are your secretaries truly trustworthy?” The owl paused, his eyes flashing dangerously, “Or perhaps, is he one of us?”
119 A Letter from a Stranger 2
The birds exchanged glances in the silence. Finally, their gaze turned to the vulture. It was clear that, even here, the vulture was the least popular.
Sensing their eyes, the vulture froze, instantly furious, “You suspect me of betraying you all? You d*mned b*stards, I was part of the trade. Why would I make trouble for myself?!”
“I just want to remind everyone to not leave behind any complications” someone said.
“Of course there won’t be any!” The vulture’s voice was full of frustration, “What do we do now? Do we wait for the secret police to find us one by one and take us away?!” He continued, “The Royal family has been displeased with us for a long time. The Queen has been having some mental issues recently because of the curse. They are willing to seek outside help, to ask the Easterners for help. If they know that we’ve been messing around at this critical point, they’ll never let us go.”
“Calm down. The Fifth Division has only heard some rumors. The green falcon has just gone to cooperate with the investigation. He wasn’t arrested,” the blue robin said coolly. “If they really did have evidence, we would not be chatting here. At that point, the Fifth Division would kindly open a VIP room for us in the Arkham Asylum. We might be able to have a party there.”
“You mean they can’t do anything to us at the moment?” The vulture could not believe it.
“Do you still not understand? Why did Holmes choose to send you all the letter?” the blue robin asked mockingly. “He’s blackmailing you all, my friends! This is clearly to provoke parliament!”
The vulture panicked, “He can have as much money as he wants!”
“Are you kidding me?” The blue robin laughed, “Gentlemen, let me remind you. You might have met the most arrogant kidnapper in the history of Avalon! He has already put blackmail letters containing the fingers of captives into the mailboxes of fourteen families! He has declared war on half of Avalon! How can you satisfy a lunatic like that with money?”
The crowd remained silent. Everyone felt a chill go down their spine. Catching the attention of a lunatic was never a good thing, especially if the lunatic might be a dark musician! The scariest fact of the matter was that this dark musician had escaped past the Avalon Enchantment, hid from the Musician Association, and snuck into Avalon! No one knew what this crazy man could do!
“…What if we stop?” a weak voice sounded from the crowd.
—
The flock of birds rustled, and turned to the source of the voice. At the back of the crowd, the magpie flinched, obviously scared out of his wits. He said, “As long as we don’t get into the mess of Avalon’s Shadow and search for the Blood Path, the dark musician won’t become our enemy, right? And… and…” he could not continue.
The blue robin’s eyes had turned icy. “Do you think you’re still able to stop now?” he asked coldly. “We’ve put in so much effort to spark fights in downtown, and squash the Shaman’s comeback just to find the Blood Path. The Queen has been trying to reduce our power ever since she took the throne. She wants to turn the glorious bloodlines into nothing but a name.
“The Royal family is at its weakest point now. We can only take the initiative if we have the Blood Path. Because at that time, even the Queen will have to listen to us! A dark musician is just an obstacle! What are you all scared of?! Didn’t we work together and force the Shaman away before?”
“But what should we do now?” the owl asked. “Let that dark musician Holmes continue making a mess of things?”
“We don’t need to do anything,” the blue robin suddenly said. “Just wait patiently for Holmes to make a mistake. If he dares to leave any evidence behind, he will be dead.”
“If he reports us…”
“How?” The blue robin scoffed, “His biggest mistake was in writing the letter and giving us time to prepare. All we need to do is destroy all evidence and create a clear alibi. He won’t be able to do anything to us! And anyway, the elites of Avalon aren’t all perfect like Lancelot. Everyone has done something illegal. The Royals can’t kill all of us, can they?”
As the crowd fell silent, the pelican sighed, “But we must give up on the Pyramid Scheme.”
Hearing this, the vulture felt a pang in his heart. Giving up on a hundred-thousand pounds of monthly profit and the tools for dirty work felt as if he was slicing up his own heart to give away. The money was not the most important either. Without the Pyramid Scheme, their eyes, ears
, and influence in downtown would be wiped out. They would have to start all over. And the Shaman just had to come back. It was the worst timing!
“Don’t worry. If we can bring the Pyramid Scheme to power, naturally we can help others too. There are many in downtown who want to be connected to us.” The blue robin’s voice was sinister, “We’ve let the rednecks go free for too long. This is a good chance to clean them out. Just like nine years ago, the ones who are obedient can survive, but the Shaman, the Professor, and Holmes will die. At that time, all clues to the Blood Path would be in our hands.”
“And Sam,” someone added. “Get rid of Sam first. That guy knows too much. If he calls us out, things will be messy.”
“Don’t worry. Sam will die sooner or later,” the blue robin replied. “To prepare for this day, I hired a Blood Sorcerer long ago to curse him. So there shouldn’t be any problems if you take care of your own evidence.”
“Take care of…our evidence?” the vulture murmured to himself. When he opened his eyes, he was back in his own body. His eyes were ruthless.
—
“Cullen! Cullen!” Spencer pushed open the library door, calling for his housekeeper, “Tell Cullen to come see me!”
He paced in the library silently, his face dark, as he thought of every detail. But just as he was focused on his thoughts, faint crying and screams sounded. “What’s going on?” he yelled in frustration.
The servant outside the door said, “Master, it’s Young Master Edmund. He’s crying again.”
“That useless piece of trash! How is he shameless enough to cry?” Furious, Spencer grabbed an Eastern vase nearby and shattered it at the servant’s feet. “The family had such high expectations for him, but he’s nothing compared to Banner, or Banner’s brother, Gavin.”
Usually, Spencer’s voice was full of love when speaking of his youngest child, but now his heart was filled with anger he needed to vent.
“Stealing something so precious from his uncle is one thing. But then he dared to get destroyed by a redneck! And he’s crying?!”
The servant trembled, too afraid to reply. Seeing that Cullen had arrived, he retreated quietly.
All that could be heard in the silence was Edmund’s cries. One could vaguely hear, “I want him to die,““Where’s Father? I want to see Father!” adding to Spencer’s anger.
“Cullen, make him shut up,” Spencer spat, “or else he’ll be locked up!”
“Yes,” Cullen nodded, still shaken from earlier. He turned to leave but heard a voice behind him, “Bring me everything that the Pyramid Scheme had given. Nothing can remain.” He froze in disbelief, instinctively calculating the value of everything. “Everything?” Cullen confirmed.
“Everything.” Spencer nodded tersely, “Alert the workers in the boiler room. Tell them we’ll need to use it soon.”
—
Half an hour later, the boiler room had become a furnace. It was hard to believe that someone had started the boiler in such hot weather. Servants threw coal in continuously, raising the temperature. Every breath was like swallowing lava. The pain was like a fifth degree burn.
Spencer stood before the boiler, observing the giant thing that could heat up an entire manor in the winter. The door as tall as a man was wide open. Sparks flew in the blazing air, glowing red. Sweat rolled down his back. He held a handkerchief to his mouth, trying to breathe.
“Master, it’s ready,” Cullen reported quietly, walking in slowly. “Everything’s here.”
Spencer turned to look at the dozens of trolleys. They were filled with antiques, account books, Eastern silk, Burgundy wine, Asgardian tobacco, and ancient books. His heart in pain, he closed his eyes and waved, telling them to hurry.
Muscular servants pushed the trolleys toward the blazing boiler. Even from the distance, their hair curled, and their skin turned red. They did not dare get close to the boiler. They let the trolleys go from a distance, throwing them into the boiler. The precious items burned easily in the red fire and light that seemed to come from hell. Even the trolleys slowly melted before finally disappearing completely. Not even ash was left behind.
One trolley, another trolley, yet another, and another, and another f*cking trolley…Spencer felt his heart dripping with blood. “Are there more?” he asked.
Cullen shook his head, “Master, they’re all here.”
“All here?” Spencer seemed unconvinced, “Are you sure?”
“Yes, Master. They’re all here.” Cullen nodded blankly and suddenly felt pain in his chest. Lowering his head stiffly, he saw a silk gloved hand and the dagger in it. The dagger was Spencer’s favorite blade. It had been given to him by Sam, and could apparently slice through steel as if it were mud, but now it was in his heart.
“Ma…Master?” Cullen looked up in confusion, his eyes studying Spencer’s face hopelessly.
“You’ve worked for our family for three years. I thank you on behalf of my grandfather and my father,” Spencer pulled out the dagger, him bidding farewell. “Goodbye, my old friend.”
His ‘old friend’ could no longer speak. He collapsed on the floor, whispering something in despair before gradually closing his eyes. The blood dried quickly in the hot wind. It evaporated, leaving behind a dark red stain. It was hardly noticeable on the black floor.
“Get rid of it with the other things. With their company, old Cullen won’t be lonely in Heaven,” Spencer tossed the dagger and gloves onto the corpse and left.
The body fizzled and popped in the burner, and turned to coal. The coal gradually crumbled into powder, making small noises as if the soul was wailing in the fire of hell. Finally, the wails disappeared in the flames. Nothing was left behind.
With his back to the blazing light, Spencer stared into the sky outside, his eyes bloodshot. He murmured the d*mned name like a mantra, “Holmes, Holmes, Sherlock Holmes, that d*mn Sherlock Holmes…”
120 A Letter from a Stranger 3
Outside the boiler room, the weather was still burning as if it were an even bigger boiler. Even the ocean breeze had stopped at one point. The entire city seemed to be submerged in boiling glue. It was unbearable.
Above the dazzling, radiant, heavenly city, a cloud of polluted smoke rose among the tall uptown buildings. As the boiler room workers fervently created wind, the ashes flew with the flames. The remains of sins rode the hot wind, rising from the crude boiler, finally escaping its hold. They were free outside the boiler, and expanded like a drop of ink in water.
The black smoke seemed solid like metal in the windless air. It rose slow and thick as if it was determined to reach the stars. From afar, it looked like a black pillar reaching into the sky. Just like how one bird flying away in fright would lead to a flock of birds flying, a second cloud of black smoke rose soon after. And then a third, and a fourth…
Everyone in the city looked toward uptown in confusion, looking the smoke that seemed frozen in the air. The people discussed amongst themselves. Some counted the smoke stacks excitedly, “Five, six… eleven, twelve… sixteen, seventeen! Seventeen!” Under the blazing sun, between the ocean and the sky, above the dazzling city were seventeen clouds of black smoke. They rose from the earth to the air, like pillars holding up the sky. Just as the legends said, the glorious bloodlines were pillars that held up the empire…but these things were polluted to the bone.
Many looked at the angry and humiliated clouds of smoke and laughed gleefully, as if seeing faces swollen from being slapped, but the well-informed witnesses became cautious, ingraining in their mind the name of the man who had practically set uptown on fire—Sherlock Holmes. Who was Sherlock Holmes?
—
“This is a warning,” Shaman said in downtown. “A challenge and a warning to everyone.”
“Warning?” Ghosthand asked in confusion, “To whom?”
“To anyone who can see it.” The Shaman studied the smoke pillars as if observing an art masterpiece. His eyes were full of appreciation.
“Is this H
olmes getting interested in downtown as well?” Ghosthand refused to believe it, as if it were a joke.
“Why not? Every creature needs his own hunting ground, is that not true?” The Shaman chuckled in the darkness, “Those who have gone to the Dark World know that some fallen tribes like to put up a sign, marking their territory to show that they are sovereign. Some are delicate bones, others are dried corpses or wild totems. When you see them, you know that you should turn around and leave. They’re waving at you. And when you look at the sign… they are also looking at you.”
—
“What a great show. Amazing.” The white-haired youth stood before the window, studying the black smoke in the sky. He chuckled lightly, “Really, it looks much better than all your faces from before.” No one replied.
“Let’s just see this as an omen for the return of the wanderer.” As if studying those faces, he murmured, “This is just an offhand reminder. Someday, you’ll need to finish paying the debts…”
The shadows of times past flashed through the youth’s eyes. He closed the curtains slowly, moving on from the scene. In the dark room, he sat in a chair, feeling the endless strength leave him bit by bit. The pain and contradicting feelings in his heart, the confusion and frustrations that kept him awake at night finally seemed to disappear. What replaced them was the long-awaited exhaustion. It drowned him like a tidal wave.
Smiling, the youth closed his eyes. The nightmares of the past would not appear in his peaceful dream, right? Finally, he could sleep for a bit.
—
“F*ck, f*ck, f*ck!” someone swore in a hoarse on a small boat slowly leaving the port. Cursing, the man flipped a table in rage, “F*ck Holmes. F*ck Holmes!”
Glaring at the evil smoke snaking above Avalon, his eyes were wild and hopeless, “I should’ve killed you, you d*mned b*stard!”
As if he had serious malaria or a strange disease, the man’s skin was green and red, but his face was deathly pale and covered with chickenpox. He curled up in the corner of the ship, panic in his eyes. He was wrapped in a blanket, but his body shook uncontrollably. Under the blanket, his skin swelled, bubbling and rotted.
