Drivas relaxed and took the offered bottle from Palrig. She coughed as it went down, but not as much as Raisa had, and Palrig laughed. She playfully punched his arm through the coughing.
“You delivered the message, right?” Raisa asked casually.
“Aye,” Drivas nodded. “Bird’s been sent to Kaliasma.”
“Good. So, how’s your investigation planning going?”
“It’s fine,” Drivas said. She glanced away, and Raisa caught the hint to let the conversation end.
“But?” she pressed regardless.
“I’ve just been making notes and ideas so far,” she shrugged again, “but I wanted to ask you about that man earlier actually.”
Raisa sobered almost instantly.
“What about him?” she asked trying to stay calm.
“Did you know him?”
“Not personally, but through a mutual … friend of ours,” Raisa gave.
“The one he was asking about? Arus?” Drivas asked.
“The friend he was looking for, yes.”
“You don’t like him, clearly.”
“Nope, but he’s dead anyway.” Bitterness crept into her voice.
“What did he do?” she asked.
“He tried to take the Ragged Wolves from under me. He would have succeeded if I hadn’t befriended people like Palrig first. They were able to see through him when I couldn’t.”
Palrig gave a small nod at the acknowledgement. “You would have seen it too, soon enough.”
“It could have been bad, though,” Raisa said, melancholy setting in. “He tricked me into trusting him.”
“So, what did this new man want?” Drivas asked, leaning forward.
“Just to find him, but I watched Arus hang for trying to kill the queen.”
“What?!”
“Your mother wasn’t involved with him at the time,” Palrig quickly added.
“No, he left a few months before then, and even that was years ago. He was always trying to make up his own rules,” Raisa stated.
“Well, I’m glad he’s gone,” Drivas said.
Raisa sat back, somber, unresponsive, and hoping Drivas wouldn’t notice.
Chapter Twenty Eight
Pen
Pen dug into her wrist as the woman wailed again. The younger man, Enochious, kept glaring at Pen as he comforted his mother.
“Again, I am so sorry for bringing this up like this,” Pen tried again, “but I just need to know when you last saw Carras.”
Carras’s mother, who had introduced herself as Despinae, sobbed into her handkerchief again.
“How is that important?” Enochious barked, rubbing his mother’s shoulder.
“I told you, because I’m trying to find the … one who’s doing this.” She stopped herself saying Fang at least. She didn’t want to reinforce that idea in the woman’s head.
“Then you should be out there,” Enochious pointed to the front door of the little house, “tracking him down.”
“I’m trying!” Pen barked back. “I need to start somewhere, and that’s usually with the victim—”
“Don’t call her that!” he rounded on Pen. “She’s not some nameless victim.”
“I wasn’t implying that,” Pen said, “and I did say Carras’s name a moment ago. We would get through this easier if you’d—”
“Don’t you fucking tell me to calm down,” he shouted an inch for her face. “My sister was murdered!”
“Eno,” a softer voice sounded.
Despinae took his arm. Her eyes were red and her brown hair was in a tangle, but there was more composure now.
“Don’t wake Nerita,” she said gesturing to a small hallway.
Pen didn’t know who Nerita was, but suspected it was a child napping in the day. Her wrist itched again.
Enochious took a step back, and Despinae asked, “What do you need to know?”
“I’m just trying to find a connection between Carras and the other women,” Pen explained again.
“The night it happened,” Despinae said quietly. “I actually had a fever, and Carras went to the well after dark, but she never …”
Her voice failed then.
“That’s perfect,” Pen said, “which well exactly?”
“The um … the one just east of here. It’s a good walk down, past a few gambling dens.”
Enochious took a seat at the kitchen table, rubbing his hands together.
“Was it the same for you? The last time you saw her?” Pen asked him, though she was nervous of his reaction.
“No,” he said not looking up. “It was a few days before that. I live a few blocks from here with my wife. She didn’t see anything either if that helps.”
He didn’t bother keeping the growl from his voice under control.
“You have my thanks, both of you,” Pen said. “I’ll be going, and again I am sorry about all this.”
“You just find him,” Enochious said.
With that, Pen gave one last nod and left their house. It was a nice private place, deeper in the residential district of the city.
The afternoon was chilly,. Pen headed for her own rooms, tugging her cloak tighter, but had to pause. Leaning on a stone wall, she stopped to get a hold of her shaking hands and pounding heart.
The raw welts on her wrist jumped out then. Fresh blood was streaked over the new scratches.
It felt like she’d just run the length of the city too; everything shook, and she was so tired.
She cursed at herself for not having any kind of bandage to use. If Raisa saw the scratches, she’d be worried and a little mad again. Not mad enough to raise a fuss, but Pen hated the concern in her eyes sometimes. She didn’t deserve it.
After a few forced breaths of the cool air, the shaking hadn’t stopped, but a numb calm fell over her. She was able to hide the shaking in her pockets at least. She pushed away from the wall and continued on.
She kept going over the little information Despinae gave, not wanting to forget it before she reached her rooms. There she had a journal where she could write down everything. She wished she could bring it, having bought it just that morning, but the quill and ink were annoying to carry. She was paranoid that the ink bottle would shatter or the quill would snap in her pocket. Charcoal would have been easier but also stain everything.
There was one thing to be thankful for, though she hated thinking of it that way. Rella didn’t have any family, which meant fewer people to talk to, but also fewer leads.
Pen made her way through the eastern market to reach the building her rooms were in. Keeping her hood up, she stuck to the edge of the street, close to the shops and other buildings. She considered taking a detour to the graveyard again, but it would just be a distraction.
People passed by in a blur. Her heart started pounding again when she passed a thick crowd. She focused on the next corner she needed, but it felt like everyone around her knew she was there. It was an odd feeling, like they were all staring, but her rational mind knew they weren’t. Not yet anyway.
One face emerged from the crowded blur, and she froze, her heart jumping to her throat.
A man ran into her back, cursing as he moved around her. He barked something, but she didn’t hear it.
Erenos had come out of the apothecary shop and started walking up the street towards her.
He tucked a small vial into his pocket as he glanced up. The average passerby would just assume he was tired, but Pen recognized the deep somber look in his eyes.
Pen ducked behind some wooden scaffolding holding up a partially constructed tailor shop before he could see her too.
Blood rushed in her ears as she hugged her stomach. The shaking grew worse.
After a few minutes, Pen peeked around the scaffolding. Erenos was gone. She left the scaffolding and hurried on to her rooms without further incident.
Aethra had found a nice building for her to stay, like an inn, but several families stayed inside the rooms on several floors perman
ently. Through a few hallways, Pen had access to her own kitchen space and bedroom.
Once inside and alone, Pen sank down on the bed. She wanted nothing more than to curl up under the blankets and wait for the dread to pass.
It wouldn’t, but it might lessen a little. The bed was comfortable too, practically calling her, but she had work to do.
She left the soft bed and sat on the hard wooden chair at the desk. Opening the journal to a fresh page, she recounted everything she could remember that Enochious and Despinae said. To her surprise, she remembered all of it, but the only new information was that Carras was heading to the well.
Pen flipped back through the pages. There was no one left to talk to. No one saw anything, not even their families. She wasn’t entirely surprised by that, and she was glad no one had to see the attacks, but she had nowhere else to go now.
She could only imagine what kind of actions would leave such bite marks on a woman’s throat, and she didn’t want to. Maybe she could talk to Biros again. He might have an idea from the wounds.
Pen sat back and looked to the map of Stymphalia pinned to the wall, glad she at least had the foresight to ask for one. Aethra had provided it and even marked down where the murders happened.
Problem was the locations didn’t help much. Adrienne, Carras, and Rella didn’t live near each other or even in the same general neighborhood, and the other women were similarly scattered. There was at least an hour walk between then. An hour wasn’t too long, but it was still a wide distance.
Her eyes wandered over to the street where Carras lived with her mother. She hoped her family would be okay.
Erenos and Lume entered her thoughts then. They couldn’t be in the best shape either, but they were in the city now at least. Aethra must have been allowing a few refugees in. Pen was glad for that, that they had a proper roof over their heads rather than a tent.
She wondered what Erenos was doing at the apothecary. It wasn’t any of her business, but Lume hadn’t been there.
Maybe she should check on them and make sure they were all right.
“So, we can sneak up on you.”
Pen’s heart lurched at the voice, and the chair clattered to the floor. Drawing a crimson knife as she stood, she faced the intruder.
Scythe leaned in the archway that led to the rest of the rooms with a kind grin, perfectly at ease.
“The fuck are you doing here?” Pen demanded. “How did you get in? The door was locked.”
“You have a nice little place here, Pen,” Dagger called.
She couldn’t see him yet, but his voice was behind Scythe in the living area.
She did catch a glimpse of him as he walked from one end of the room to the other. Inching closer, Pen peered around Scythe and saw he was admiring her stove and the stuffed furniture by the hearth. He opened the only other door in the apartment.
“You even have your own privy!” he exclaimed.
“Really?” Scythe asked equally surprised.
“It’s big enough for a wash basin in here,” Dagger said. He was inside the room now, probably admiring the layout.
Keeping the knife low, but still in hand, Pen pushed past Scythe and entered the living area. Dagger popped out of the privy, grinning.
“What’s the bedroom like?” he asked.
“It’s got its own little desk,” Scythe answered.
“Really?” Dagger joined Scythe by the archway. “Damn, this little place has everything.”
“What do you want?” Pen nearly shouted.
Turning to her again, Dagger’s grin slipped. “We wanted to know why you were in the Lion’s Den.”
“And why did you run off after seeing us?” Scythe added. “I know we haven’t been talking much, but I thought we were at least on greeting terms.”
“Oh,” Pen hesitated. “Um, I was in a hurry to just get back, that’s all. I’ve been looking into something, and I couldn’t really stop to chat.”
She hadn’t expected them to be offended. After the little wave at the Den, Pen went on her way and left. It had been a stressful enough day, and she hadn’t even thought about speaking to them.
“What are you looking into?” Scythe asked as she walked deeper into the bedroom.
She spotted the map and studied it for a moment, then smiled.
“Are you planning a coup?” she asked excitedly. “Oh, can we help? I’m sure there’s plenty of secret ways into the castle we can find. And imagine the chaos when the queen is dead.”
Shock left Pen speechless for a moment, horrified by the joy in her voice.
“We should take out the little king too,” Dagger said now beside Scythe. “Watch everyone else panic as the royalty ends up—”
“No!”
He stopped and looked at Pen confused and a little taken aback. Scythe turned to her too, wanting an explanation.
“I’m working with the queen to find a killer inside the city,” Pen explained. “Why would I want to take over?!”
“We can do the takeover if you want,” Scythe shrugged. “Wouldn’t be the first time taking down royalty anyway. And if there’s a killer out and about already, that would be our perfect scapegoat.”
“No,” Pen said with more conviction. “Neither of you will touch anyone here.”
“You don’t get to order us,” Dagger said calmly, “any more than your daddy did.”
“My father was human, my ancestor is Maniodes,” Pen clarified. “And you two took his throne, didn’t you? Down in Skiachora.”
“Oh yes,” Scythe said smiling again, as if reliving pleasant memories.
Pen really noticed them now. Their bodies angled towards her, hands drifting to their weapons. Madness lit in Scythe’s eye, and Dagger’s grin turned predatory.
“Okay, look,” Pen said too tired for a fight, knowing she might not win against these two anyway, “it’s not an order, but consider it a request. I owe this city, and it’s being threatened already. Queen Aethra wants me to find the bastard ripping women’s throats out. That’s all. This place has been through enough stress.”
She hoped they didn’t see the parallel to herself in that last bit, she was exhausted too.
Dagger drew back for a moment, as if considering her words. He touched Scythe’s wrist, and she glanced to him. The two shared an unspoken word, and the tension eased.
Pen let out a breath, glad she hadn’t offended anyone this time. Raisa would be proud.
“So,” Scythe said, “this newbie murderer is ripping throats out? With his bare hands? That’s impressive.”
Scythe touched Dagger’s arm again as she approached Pen’s desk. Dagger glanced back at the map.
“No, I don’t think he is,” Pen said in the archway now. The room was too small for the three of them. “No one’s seen this guy, and there are no other leads. And I wouldn’t say it’s impressive. He’s biting them enough to leave horrible wounds.”
Both Scythe and Dagger froze to stare at her again. Scythe’s eyes lit up with even more admiration.
“He’s using his teeth?” Scythe exclaimed.
“That must be a mess,” Dagger said.
“Can we not admire this lunatic, please?” Pen demanded.
Scythe shrugged, and Dagger held up a hand for peace. Neither of them seemed bothered this time.
“You said there’s been no other leads to finding him?” he asked.
“No, not yet,” Pen gave.
“You may have to wait for another body to show up,” Dagger suggested.
“What? No, I can’t just wait for another woman to die like this,” she protested, disgusted by the idea.
“You said you have nothing,” he shrugged. “The next body might provide something new.”
Pen fell silent. She hated the thought, but he had a point.
“Have you tried searching around where they died?” Scythe asked.
“Yes, but there was nothing to find. Some of them happened a while ago anyway,” Pen said.
“Wouldn’t hurt to look again,” Scythe said flipping through the journal.
At least it was a new plan, something that might provide a clue pointing to the Fang.
“How did you two get in here?” Pen asked, not letting go of her original question.
“Locked doors don’t bother us,” Scythe said closing the book. She looked to Pen, smiled, and vanished. “One of the perks of these powers.”
Pen jerked away from Scythe’s voice now behind her. The woman just stood there proudly in her black corseted dress.
Dagger snickered.
“So, that’s how you were in the Lion’s Den too,” Pen said more to herself. “You just appear there for a fun night.”
“It’s a regular haunt of ours,” Scythe said.
“But we walked there actually,” Dagger added. “It was a nice, clear night.”
“You walked from Skiachora?!” Pen asked stunned. “That takes weeks!”
“No, it doesn’t,” he said, confusion knitting his brow. “We just used the tree in the graveyard. Oh wait! You don’t actually know that trick. We’re able to open passages from dead trees to the underworld.”
“Any dead tree can be an entrance?” Pen exclaimed, surprised by the news.
“With the right key,” he said. “Our chosen weapons can open them.”
“Well, that would have been bloody useful when I had to find Nyx,” Pen threw her hands in the air.
“Actually,” Scythe said standing by Dagger again. “I wonder if you can open them.”
“How?” Pen asked.
“Our weapons are infused with that power because of Maniodes, to make traveling easier on his lackeys at the time. Your blood might have similar properties, because it’s basically half his,” Scythe explained.
“You think so?” Intrigue sparked.
“I’m almost sure of it,” she said.
“That might work,” Dagger added, equally interested.
“Take my hand.” Scythe held it out to Pen.
Pen paused but said, “You’re going to vanish again?”
“Yes, but I can take you with me. Remember when you and Tellus were down in Skiachora? We sent you home with the same magic.” Annoyance entered her red eyes at the explanation.
Grief of the Undying (The Ichorian Epics Book 3) Page 16
