CHAPTER 9: DREAMS AND MYSTERIES
“Daru the Red, fourth of the Alukah, marched to battle. His cloak was made of souls, his armor made of bone. A thousand score Wights at his back. But he faced brave Acklion and bold Ocari on the fields of Golgido. Eyes alight with holy wrath, and lances tipped with starlight. The Seraphblood Champions brought fire and doom to Daru and his kin”- The Book of Miracles, Lamentations 14:10
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Coughing and spluttering, Natalie dragged herself out of a blood-stained river. Naked, shaky, and disoriented, she collapsed onto the riverbank. Staring up at the impossibly bright constellations above her, she let her fingers play with the red lilies surrounding her. Natalie was back in her internal world, and she didn’t know how she’d gotten there.
Sitting up, Natalie looked to the river bank and found the Angler standing there. A large net draped over one shoulder. Groaning slightly, Natalie got to her feet and looked down at herself. You were supposed to bare your soul to a God, but she didn’t think that meant nudity was required. Shutting her eyes, Natalie imagined her favorite dress and felt its fabric enfold her. This was her own bloody dream; she had some control over it.
Walking over to the Angler, Natalie let out a pained sigh. “We have to stop meeting like this.”
The Angler chuckled. “I wouldn’t wish that Ms. Striga; most mortals seem to prefer dreams to the other way they meet me.”
Accepting that, Natalie looked at the large net the Angler was repairing. It was a new addition to the persona Master Time wore when meeting with her. “What's with the net?”
The Angler looked down at the pile of woven rope as if he was only just noticing it. “Nothing good, Natalie, nothing good at all.”
Dropping the net onto the ground next to him, he faced Natalie and spoke. “I need to apologize to you.”
Confused and more than a little worried, Natalie crossed her arms and asked. “For manipulating my life and undeath to help Cole and the ‘greater good’ or something else?”
Giving her a sad smile, the Angler shrugged. “Yes, and yes. What is the last thing you remember?”
Memories came flooding back, and Natalie’s knees nearly buckled. As pleasure, and heady lust came with the memories. She’d been in bed with Cole; they’d just been about to… well, ‘have fun’ when she felt a bitter cold hit her, and everything went black.
Eyes wide with fury and cheeks crimson, Natalie sputtered. “Wh-What did you do?!”
Holding up his hands in a placating gesture, the Angler explained. “My followers in Vindabon invoked my power to track and bind the most powerful unmarked Undead in the city. They did this in the hunt for a murderer and caught you by accident. The binding is wearing off, and you should be conscious soon, but I felt the need to apologize for the discomfort.”
Slightly relieved that she didn’t have an actual God preventing her and Cole from making love, Natalie asked. “This murderer? It’s related to that alley Cole was sniffing around earlier?”
The Angler nodded. “My hands are tied in how much help I can give. The Oath of the Final Gates keeps me and my kin from directly intervening. But I can point Cole in the right direction through… various means.”
Sighing, Natalie grimaced. “Meaning me.”
The God nodded. “Meaning you.”
Glaring at the cosmic avatar of Death and Entropy, Natalie snapped. “I’m not a tool for you to use.”
The Angler let out a sad little laugh. “Oh Natalie, you and every other thing in your world are far more to me than a tool. You are also far less. I will be here when everything you’ve ever known is less than dust. But I still choose to help where I can.”
Chewing on that, Natalie asked, “So the Temple magically tracked me and found Cole. Cole being Cole, will find himself helping the Guards. What about me? Do I have any more role to play in this other than being Cole’s motivation?”
Shrugging, the Angler looked down at the net. “You will be in one of my largest Temples with a lot of spare time. A place with millennia of records, holy texts, and more are stored. There are things buried in the Temple archive you might find very interesting.”
Rolling her eyes, Natalie asked. “Are you intentionally being obtuse?”
A snort of laughter escaped the Angler. “You are quite brazen for one speaking to a God, Natalie. But yes, I must be… rather opaque in this matter. The Gates must be balanced.”
Frowning, Natalie asked. “Surely telling me where to look and what I’m looking for isn’t a violation of some cosmic order?”
The amused expression of the God faded away. “Three hundred and ninety-two years and forty-two days ago, the Lector of Woes, a Fell God, pointed one of its cultists in the direction of a certain magical text with as much detail as I’m using. That cultist found part of the text and used it to kill an entire city. Forty-nine thousand six hundred and two lives lost just from a few words to the wrong person.”
Looking up at the distant shimmering stars, The Angler continued. “Imagine what the Cultist could have done if he’d been told exactly how to find the text and use it. I’m using the imbalance the Lector created to help you. Don’t ask me to swing the pendulum in the opposite direction Natalie. A debt would be incurred, and you’d shudder to imagine what sort of things might collect on that debt.”
Strange fog started to boil up from the river and cover the field of lilies. The dream was ending. Reaching down, the Angler gripped the net and held it up. “I’ll leave you with this final thought, Natalie. Wonder why this mask would appear with a net instead of a pole.”
As the fog started to envelop Natalie, she understood. The Angler was the form a long-dead culture thought Death took. Viewing death as him fishing for souls. A fisherman catches fish one at a time with a pole. He catches dozens or hundreds with a net.”
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Natalie bolted upright with a gasp of pointless breath. A nervous scream filled her ears, and Natalie briefly wondered if it was her own. Drinking in her surroundings, she quickly realized it was not. Natalie was in a cell of some kind. A small stone room with dim lighting. Filled with a small bed she currently laid on. A desk in one corner and a number of chairs scattered about. In one of those chairs was a panicked-looking woman with short blond hair and bags under her eyes. The woman was scrabbling for an hourglass medallion, her chest heaving from the effort of screaming.
Holding up the medallion the woman’s eyes were wide in shock. “How are you awake? The binding should hold for another ten hours?”
Trying to sort through her memories, Natalie asked in an unnaturally dry voice. “W-where am I?”
Recovering herself somewhat, the woman said. “You are in the custody of the Tenth Temple of Vindabon. Under the watch and ward of Master Time and his clerics.”
Confirming what she suspected, Natalie asked the next important question. “Where’s Cole?”
The Priestess (Natalie assumed) looked to the chamber's door. “He’s with Senior Priest Morri and the Anchorite discussing… uh, discussing you.”
Looking down, Natalie realized she was clad in a loose oversized tunic. The thing was massively baggy on her. It lacked any smell, but Natalie knew who it belonged to; Cole had probably not even tried to get her into a dress while unconscious. Smiling at that, she looked to the Priestess. “So what can I call you?”
The Priestess narrowed her eyes and seemed to consider her options before answering. “Mina, I am Priestess Mina Vrock”
Getting up from the bed, Natalie held out a hand. “I’m Natalie.”
Mina didn’t respond automatically; keeping her talisman close, she carefully took Natalie’s hand. Half expecting the Vampire to attack her. Rolling her eyes, Natalie let out an exasperated sigh. “I’m not going to bite Mina. I’m a Vampire, not some wild animal.”
A cool expression covered Mina’s face. “I am very much aware.” a hint of venom in the words told Natalie Mina would prefer a wild animal’s company.
Sitting on the bed, Natalie wrapped herself up in a blanket. If she was to be stuck here with a paranoid Priestess, she might as well get comfortable. Mina watched this and, after a moment, said. “You are a Vampire”
Burrowing into the covers, thin as they were, Natalie gave Mina a droll stare. “We’ve established that.”
Chewing on her lip, Mina asked. “Then why are you using the blanket? Surely you aren’t cold?”
Shrugging, sending a sheet fluttering, Natalie said. “It's comfortable. I’ve spent too long on the road, and if I’m going to be stuck here, I might as well get cozy.”
A little put off by the very human answer, Mina asked. “The binding I cast, it should have held for hours more. How did you break free?”
Grunting in annoyance, Natalie thought back to the cold pain and her interrupted fun with Cole. “Oh, so I have you to thank for that?”
Mina froze for a second but quickly recovered. “We were hunting a Monster; we just caught the wrong one.”
Sighing, Natalie wrapped the blankets tighter. “And now you have Cole to help find the right one.”
Frowning, Mina replied. “Yes, how did you know that?”
Flopping against the wall, feeling the cold stone even through the blankets, Natalie chuckled to herself. “Your Master told me.”
Befuddled, Mina asked. “Priest Morri? But how? You’ve been bound all night?”
Amused at the Priestess’s confusion, Natalie chuckled. “Not your superior, I mean your Master. He talks to me sometimes in my dreams.”
All color drained from Mina’s face, and she scooted her chair back a little. Surprise turned to anger and incredulity. “Master Time would never speak to a Vampire! You are lying!”
Enjoying getting a rise out of Mina, Natalie cocked an eyebrow. “A Vampire would never normally travel with a Paladin. This entire situation isn't normal.”
Mina was about to object when the room’s door opened. A weary-looking Cole came in first. Behind him was an older man with a thick mustache and beard. The Priest Morri, Natalie guessed. The old Priest kept cold hard eyes on Natalie. Cole by contrast brightened in surprised joy on seeing Natalie. In three long strides, Cole reached Natalie and took her up in his arms. An undignified squeak escaped Natalie as Cole practically crushed her in an embrace. Letting go, Cole looked into her eyes and seemed visibly relieved.
“You awoke early. I’m sorry if I knew I’d never have left your bedside,” he apologized before loosening his hug and asking “How are you?”
Shrugging, Natalie gave a weak smile. “Decent. The magic they used wasn’t fun, but the Angler was in my dreams. He seems to think your help in solving the Murders will be crucial.”
Morri visibly twitched at the mention of ‘The Angler,’ something Natalie caught out of the corner of her eye. Cole made a pensive noise in his throat and considered Natalie’s words. “Is that so? I thought as much. You seem to be up to date on matters; did Master Time have anything else to say?”
Natalie’s eyes flicked to the two priests, and Cole got her meaning. “They are trustworthy. I’ve known Morri for close to a decade, and Mina is one of his former acolytes.”
Willing to take Cole’s word, Natalie said. “Something about these killings is going to lead to a lot of deaths. I don’t know what, but that was what he implied.”
Cole shut his eyes for a moment as he digested that information. “Tell us everything”
So Natalie did, with Cole occasionally interrupting to ask for details while Morri and Mina sat in silence. Morri seemed pensive while Mina toed the line between stunned and horrified. When she finished, Natalie asked. “Alright, your turn. What’s going on? Also, what's an Anchorite?”
Cole seemed momentarily uncomfortable with the question. He knew Natalie wasn’t going to like the answers. “We’ve reached an agreement with the other Temples and the City Court. You are to be sequestered in the Tenth Temple until your worth and word can be obtained. Their words, not mine.”
Scratching at one of his scars, Cole continued. “The Temples aren’t pleased with this arrangement, but they are willing to trust me for now. The City is interested in having me help with the Murders, and some of the acting leadership like the idea of a Paladin calling their city home. Hopefully, we can make this work.”
Narrowing her eyes in suspicion, Natalie asked. “What do you mean by ‘my worth and my word”
Morri spoke then. “We need to regularly give us some of your blood and make an oath to aid the city of Vindabon to the best of your abilities.”
Cole looked surprised by the older Priest’s words. “Hold on, the Watcher Ritual just needs a vial of her blood to work.”
Morri gave Cole a hard look. “She is perhaps one of the most dangerous beings on the continent. We need to learn everything we can from her. Not just to protect the city but to discover everything we can about the first Vampires. Her blood could help us cripple the curse of Vampirism”
Expression hardening, Cole retorted. “She’s a person, not a resource. I brought her here to keep her safe. I will honor that pledge Morri; you know I will.”
The cold intensity of the Paladin’s words made the old Priest recoil somewhat. Glancing at Natalie, he regained some of his resolve. “In any other situation, I’d agree with you, Cole. But she’s not simply some woman who was infected by accident. The power inside of her is not something the Temple or even the entire City is equipped to handle. We let the other Refugees stay because you and the other Rest-Bringers can keep them in line. No such guarantee exists for your Vampire. If she lets us study her to craft one, it will do much to ease tensions.”
Sinking down into the covers, Natalie let out a sigh. “So, to stay in the city, I need to let you poke and prod me? With the explicit goal of finding out how to kill or capture me?”
Morri nodded. “That puts it succinctly.” stepping towards her, the Priest continued. “. Natalie, do you mind if I call you Natalie?”
Nodding in tacit consent, Natalie let the Priest speak. “You were raised in the Blood Duchies. You know the threat of Vampires better than perhaps anyone here but Cole. Your protector insists the Curse hasn’t corrupted or altered you. That your mind is not warped beyond recognition. But he is also obviously biased. We cannot take his word as law. Actions must speak in the Paladin’s place.”
For a few long seconds, Natalie didn’t move. Her body was unnaturally still as she thought over the Priest’s words. When she found her answer, Natalie slipped out from under the blankets and stepped close to the Senior Priest. “I’ll give you more than my blood. I’ll go along with whatever needs to be done with one condition.”
Raising a bushy eyebrow, Morri remarked. “You aren’t exactly in the position to make demands, Natalie. But I am listening.”
Meeting the Priest’s eyes, living brown to cursed red, Natalie smiled, making sure her fangs were on display. “You can’t risk killing me, and if Mina’s binding wore off early, you don’t have many guarantees any stronger spell you might cast wouldn’t eventually break. So instead of making me an enemy. How about you agree to work with the Vampire who is receiving visions from your God and is very much willing to cooperate?”
Morri blinked first, a disadvantage of the living. “Lay out your terms then. But don't be so arrogant, Vampire. You are young and untested. Cole is the only reason I’ve not driven a stake through your heart, bound you in silver chains, and dumped you into the ocean.”
Natalie’s confidence cracked a little bit. She saw the same cold strength in Morri she associated with Cole but tempered with none of the affection for her. Still, she kept up the appearance of self-assurance. “Trust needs to flow both ways. I need to be informed of everything and anything you discover. I know less about my power than you probably do. Any discovery might help me keep control easier.”
Chewing on that idea, Morri was about to answer when Natalie held up a hand. “One last thing, I’d like total access to the Temple archives. I need to know more about the Curse and its origin.”
Glaring at her, Morri snapped. “You can’t be serious? The deepest sections of the library aren’t for outsiders. Let alone one like yourself. That’s out of the question.”
Returning his glare, Natalie snapped. “Did you listen to anything I told you? Master Time said there's something valuable in the archive. I need to find it.”
Morri ground his teeth together in annoyance. “I’m not deaf yet, Vampire, we will comb the archives for anything relevant. You need not be present.” calming slightly, the Priest adopted a conciliatory tone. “But I can agree to share our findings with you. Anything we learn from you or the archives related to the Alukah, I will share.”
Hesitating, Natalie made her choice. It wasn’t everything she wanted, but that was the point of compromises, right? “Fine, I accept.”
The Priest and Vampire shook hands, and only then did they notice Mina was plastered against the far wall, her eyes wide in fright. “Alukah?” she whispered.
Gently, Morri went over to his student and peeled her off the wall. “Deep breaths, child. Let us give the Paladin and the Alukah some privacy.”
Mina started to babble. “Alukah? That-that can’t be?” Morri took her by the shoulder, and the two Priests left the chamber.
A worried Cole went over to Natalie. “That might not have been the best idea, Love,” he whispered.
Confused, Natalie looked up at his scar-etched face. “Why? You think Morri won’t keep his word?”
Shaking his head in the negative, Cole looked to the door. “No, he will, and so will the Temple. That’s not what concerns me.”
“Then what does?” Natalie asked.
Cole chose his words carefully. “Knowledge is power, valuable knowledge especially. I worry any secrets they might uncover won’t stay within the Temple.”
“You make a good point… perhaps I was foolish?” Natalie asked.
Taking her in his arms and guiding them both towards the bed. A sad chuckle escaped Cole’s lips. “It might not have been the best choice, but I fail to see an alternative. Sometimes a bad choice is the only one available. We can only take it and live with the consequences.”
Snuggling into Cole’s side as they sat on the bed, Natalie let out an exhausted huff. “How are you so bloody wise sometimes?”
Snorting in amusement, the Paladin just hugged her close. “When you are on the road for months at a time without a beautiful and clever woman to keep you distracted, you have lots of time to think.”
Reaching up to trace his face, Natalie smiled. “Flattery will get you everywhere with me, Sir Cole. Would you like to continue where we left off?”
The stoic Paladin, slayer of monsters and horrors, audibly gulped. “I’d love to, but I’m utterly exhausted. I’ve not slept at all and spent nearly all night pleading with crotchety old Priests.” pausing for a second, Cole looked away from Natalie, a slight blush on his cheeks. “Let me sleep, and I’ll gladly resume our fun. Till then… I wouldn’t mind resting in your arms. If you don’t mind, that is.”
If her heart still beat, it would have skipped one at those words. Arms slithering around him, Natalie pounced on Cole. Knocked onto his back, he let out a surprised ‘Ooof’ and found smiling red eyes looking into his. After kissing him for a few wonderful seconds, Natalie said. “Gladly.”
Soon the weary Knight found sleep as Natalie nestled into him. As his breathing slowed, Natalie let out her own pointless breath. Cole trusted her; something about that made her heart melt. Even after everything, the silly, wonderful man got embarrassed asking for a little comfort from her. It almost danced the line between frustrating and endearing. Cole would oscillate from being bizarrely unsure of himself to unflappably confident. While the nervous Cole could be cute, Natalie wanted to draw the confident one out. Listening to his heartbeat, Natalie looked around the dim cell they occupied. She much preferred the Inn room. Maybe they’d let them stay there instead? This place doesn't even have any windows, and she couldn’t tell the time.
No sooner had she thought that than a sudden terrible way of exhaustion hit her. Dawn had come. Looking at Cole, Natalie wrapped her hand in her own and let the torpor take her. She was safe and loved. The past few months had done much to enforce the value of those things. So she would bloody well enjoy them.
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For the second time, Natalie found herself in the Lily Field of her soul. Thankfully this time, she wasn’t naked, nor did she need to haul herself from the river. Instead, she was seated in a familiar wrought iron chair. A small table in front of her and a furious Isabelle sitting across it.
Bloody red eyes were narrowed in anger as the half-dead Vampress glared at Natalie. Returning the glare with an innocent smile, Natalie asked. “So contacting Cole really took that much out of you?”
Isabelle said nothing, just continuing to stare at Natalie. Sighing in annoyance, Natalie leaned forward and put her elbows on the table, propping her head up on her hands. “Did you enter my dreams just to glare at me, or is there anything more to this?”
Words smooth and cold as steel broke Isabelle’s silence. “You slept with him.”
Shrugging, Natalie remarked. “Kind of, we were sort of interrupted.”
Natalie could see the older Vampire's hands flexing with contained rage as they gripped the chair. Isabelle had forced her way into Natalie’s dream, and Natalie was having none of this. “He’s moving on,” Natalie said with a shrug. “ Try and scrounge up what little bit of compassion you have left and accept that.”
Imaginary metal snapped, and Isabelle bolted up from her chair, its armrests still in her fingers. Leaning away from the furious phantom, Natalie could watch lunatic-anger and cold intellect war behind Isabelle’s eyes. Tense and preparing to leave the dream if the anger won, Natalie was surprised to see a third contender arise and beat the original two. Guilt and grief. Emotions Natalie recognized all too well.
A strange noise came from Isabelle as she slowly sat back down in the chair. As the noise repeated, Natalie recognized it. The dry sobs of a Vampire trying to cry. Covering her face, Isabelle shook in silent grief. Leaving Natalie stunned and uncertain. After maybe a minute, Isabelle recovered herself and looked at Natalie. No flushed skin or watery eyes marked her grief, another small price paid for Vampirism.
Recovering herself, Isabelle let out a shuddering useless breath. “I know, I jagging know. He should move on and have a life with you. I’m just a shadow who can’t let go of him. But I’m still here!”
The last sentence had an almost pleading tone to it that shocked Natalie. Events had more than cracked Isabelle’s cool veneer; they’d shattered it into dust. Leaving Natalie completely uncertain of what to do. She was torn between wanting to apologize and just running away. Before Natalie could do either, Isabelle seemed to find herself.
“Cole… he has a kind heart. More so than even he knows. Maybe… it has room for both of us in it?” shrugging, Isabelle let out a weak laugh. “Listen to me, squabbling with you over a man like a stupid village girl.”
As a former ‘stupid village girl Natalie took some offense to that statement. But she let it roll off her like raindrops. Instead, she could perhaps take this opportunity to change the dynamic between them. Natalie had thought of Isabelle as an enemy, and she bet the feeling was reciprocated. But maybe that didn’t have to be the case. Isabelle had shown weakness to Natalie. A true Monster would seize on that. So Natalie did the opposite. “He still loves you,” she whispered.
Isabelle’s face snapped up in surprise at Natalie’s words. “I think he feels guilty for our relationship. Which I guess makes sense. You might be dead, but you aren’t completely gone. Maybe it was wrong of us to fall in love, but that doesn’t change the fact we have.”
Getting up from the chair, feeling the damp, warm soil of the lily field beneath her bare feet, Natalie approached Isabelle. “It also doesn’t change the fact you love him. So…so maybe we can agree to share him?”
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Sudden embarrassment flared through Natalie. This whole thing felt like some saucy bard’s song, not a serious possibility. Still, she’d long past any threshold of normality. Perhaps the idea of some form of… mutual affection was possible. Maybe even something between her and Isabelle…? Shaking her head at that idea, Natalie rapidly retreated from those thoughts before her eros made a tricky situation even more complicated.
Isabelle reached out and took Natalie’s hand then. Startling the jittery younger Vampire from her thoughts. “Perhaps. But I need a body before we start thinking along those lines. Which is why I’ve brought you here, Natalie.”
Standing up, Isabelle adopted some of her old confidence. “It’s time for you to continue your training.”
Glad for the change of topic and the implied truce between them, Natalie nodded. “What’s next?”
Isabelle actually smiled. “We are going to jump a few steps into something more complicated. Your performance with the two familiars was… competent. I question the names, but I’ve heard worse. But that is neither here nor there. My goal with previous lessons was to simply keep you alive. Now I have a more specific goal.”
Cocking an eyebrow, Natalie asked. “And what would that be?”
A glint of avarice shone in Isabelle’s eyes. “The temple archive. I’m going to help you break into them.”
Returning to her chair, Isabelle tapped her fingers on the metal table. “I’ve caught enough of what is happening to know getting into those archives is key to understanding the true power of the Alukah.”
Interested but apprehensive, Natalie asked. “The Priests will tell me anything they find. Is breaking in necessary?”
Isabelle scoffed. “Do you think they will actually share their secrets with you? Even if they do, chances are the dottering dogmatic fools won’t know what information is valuable.” Smiling with all the warmth of a hungry wolf, Isabelle continued. “But I do. With my knowledge, you will be able to sift through the records and find the important information.”
Frowning, Natalie rejoined Isabelle at the table. “That seems risky. If they caught me, any chance of the Temple trusting me would disappear.”
Isabelle shrugged. “That’s assuming they’d ever trust you to begin with. You are a Vampire, Natalie, don’t forget that fact. The Temple certainly won’t.”
Natalie was torn. She’d received literal divine assistance telling her to seek out the Archive. But doing so would endanger her tenuous position in Vindabon. Mulling this over, she asked. “Is there any reason Master Time can’t just order the Priests to let me into the Archive?”
Isabelle visibly flinched at mention of Master Time but recovered quickly. “I suppose it's a matter of Balance. The Tenth God tends to be less proactive than its fellows. It fears opening a crack in the Gates, letting the Opposition influence things. Or maybe that God already has sent a message, and it's been misinterpreted or redirected.”
Shrugging, Isabelle continued. “The matters of Gods are complicated and curious things. Those beings dance on the knife-edge between omnipotence and uselessness. Wondering at their actions and motivations will drive you mad. The Anchorite my darling mentioned is plenty evidence of that.”
Making a mental note to ask Cole again about this ‘Anchorite’ and not let him change the subject again. Natalie made her choice. “Why don’t you teach me whatever you were going to teach me, and we keep our options open? The Temple might surprise you or disappoint me. Either way, I’ll have more tools to survive and honor our deal.”
Isabelle seemed to accept that. Offering her hand to Natalie, she said. “A… pragmatic choice fitting the current spirit of compromise.”
The two Vampires shook hands, and Natalie felt something had really changed between them. Isabelle had cracked and opened up to her. A shocking turn of events that left Natalie more than a little off-kilter.
Settling back into her chair, Isabelle asked. “Before we begin the lesson, one question.” Natalie raised her eyebrows in unspoken assent, which Isabelle took. “How was he?”
Natalie suddenly had the urge to dig a hole in the lily field and hide. Instead, she forced herself to keep a straight face. “Good, very good.”
Isabelle’s lips quivered for a split second. Her face undecided between smiling or frowning. “Well then, let us start the lesson. Cats, Bats, Rats, or Owls, what do you prefer?”
A little confused and off-put by the rapidly shifting conversation, Natalie cautiously replied. “Cat?”
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:: Two Days Later ::
Despite Natalie’s best arguments, the Temple refused to let her and Cole return to the Final Flagon. But they had moved them from the small cell to an unused apartment in the Temple set aside for visiting officials and dignitaries. Which Cole technically counted as. The Paladin slept much of his first night and second day in Vindabon away. His unnatural body healed from its injuries during that time. Leaving a bored Natalie alone.
She’d been scared to practice what Isabelle had taught her inside the Temple, fearing exposure. So she’d been reduced to wandering the Temples halls and scaring the Acolytes and Priests she encountered. Word of the “refugee Vampire” brought to the Temple by a mysterious Paladin had spread through the Tenth Temple like any good gossip. Sending packs of youthful Acolytes fleeing whenever Natalie got anywhere close. Leaving Natalie little entertainment but constantly walking through the labyrinthian halls of the Temple.
The Castle-sized complex was an odd mix of painfully dull and disturbingly beautiful. Natalie would traverse what felt like kilometers of cold stone hallways only to stumble into some shrine, tomb, or similar. Each decorated with breathtaking artistry, almost always depicting morbid topics. Natalie had never considered all the ways a skull could be used in murals, tapestries, carvings, and statuary. The followers of Master Time had a set style they ascribed to, and it seemed to glory in what others would find unsettling. Which did seem fitting for worshipers of Death, Time, and Cold.
Eventually, after enough scared Acolytes complained, an annoyed Morri decided Natalie needed a chaperon. Mina drew the short straw. The young Priestess had been overtaxing herself helping the Guards. So with Cole to replace her, Mina found herself in the unenviable position of keeping Natalie company. Which pretty much manifested as the two women sitting in the same room, Natalie trying and failing to make small talk. It was in this awkward situation Cole found himself as he prepared to meet with the Wienstadt Guards.
“Okay, then what is your favorite Color?” Natalie asked, almost pleading with Mina.
The Priestess shrugged. “Gray?”
Scoffing, Natalie waived her arms in exasperation. “Gray! No one’s favorite color is Gray! If you are going to stonewall me, then at least be more creative!”
Letting out an exhausted huff, Natalie uncoiled herself from the plush chair she’d been occupying and wrapped her arms around Cole. “Love, please don’t leave me alone with this Golem!” she begged.
Smiling beside himself, he gave her a quick kiss. “I’m sorry, Nat. Is there anything I can do for you?”
Pouting slightly, Natalie shrugged. “Besides freeing me? Maybe grab something to keep me sane from the market. A book or even a block of wood? I’ll pay you back when you return.”
Cole disentangled himself from Natalie’s comforting form and said. “I’ll keep that in mind. Love you, Natalie.”
As Cole left, he heard Natalie return the sentiment and direct something else at Mina. “I love you too, Cole. Thank yo-Hey! Don’t look so mortified.”
Chuckling under his breath, Cole left the Temple and headed towards the nearby market square. He had a little time before he was expected, so grabbing her something nice seemed like a good idea. Romantic gifts weren’t the only reason Cole visited the market. He needed to resupply and reequip. The entire disastrous Glockmire affair and the incident with the Werewolves had forced Cole to reconsider his general strategy. He couldn’t afford to be so blaise with his life anymore. A decade on the road fighting lesser Undead and rogue Vampires had made him sloppy and unmotivated. He’d become a shadow of the Homunculus Knight and never really grown into a proper Paladin. That stopped now.
His first two stops, at the apothecary and alchemist, filled his pack with a number of interesting tinctures and substances. He then grabbed three books from the local scrivener. A romance novella, a history of Vindabon, and a text on woodworking. Hopefully, Natalie would find some comfort in one of the three. After that, Cole counted his remaining coin and approached the sole Smith in the square.
Under a small pavilion, a short woman with an interesting mix of curves and muscle sat among racks of weapons and armor. Dirty blond hair streamed out from under a leather cap, and her bare arms were exposed to the cold weather. A curious fashion choice explained by the intricate tattoo marking her left upper arm. It was a Dwarven Guild badge. Marking the Smith as a member and listing her accolades. Cole guessed a bit of winter wind was worth the advertisement.
Getting up from her chair, the smith looked over Cole as he approached. Spitting a glob of pipeherb onto the ground, she remarked. “Oh, you are a big fucker aren’t you. Well, I think I’ve got something your size.”
Holding out her calloused hand to Cole, she introduced herself. “I’m Emma of Stonebone. Triple marked smith of Hakon Hold.”
Stonebone, that was the Gate town of Hakon Hold. The non-dwarven settlement that grew up around the Hold’s entrance. Emma probably had some Dwergaz blood in her, or at least enough of their attitude, it didn’t matter.
Shaking her hand, the Paladin said. “Cole of Atredia. I’m looking for something light but durable.”
Emma let go of Cole’s hand but reached up to feel his bicep experimentally. “You certain? A big fellow like you has enough meat to wear proper steel.”
A little surprised by her touch, Cole shrugged. “I travel too much for anything heavier than leather to be practical.”
Grabbing a measuring rope and a piece of charcoal, Emma got to work. “Aye? What are you, a Mercenary? Shouldn’t you be down south with the Prince and the Noble whelps?”
Shaking his head but realizing Emma couldn’t see, her eyes and hands busy marking something on her bare fore-arm. Cole explained. “I’m a Rest-Bringer, just leaving the south, actually.”
Cole saw little reason to spread his true title around the city and found the lesser title of Rest-Bringer more appropriate to his abilities honestly. Emma just nodded. “A Rest-Bringer, hm? I think I might have just the thing.”
Motioning for him to wait, Emma went deeper into the pavilion and rattled about with various bits of equipment. “I’ve equipped one or two of your kind in the past few weeks.” she remarked, barely audible over the market’s murmur and the clatter of moving metal. “They all wanted Plate, Scale, and other heavier types. But they were traveling with the Army, so I guess they could have someone carry it for them.”
Returning to Cole, Emma found an empty table and set down an eclectic mix of equipment. Two open fingered gauntlets of strong steel. An armored doublet and pants made from leather and metal. Two steel reinforced boots and a strange sash-like thing of leather covered in pouches and pockets.
Pointing at each item individually, Emma listed them off. “Albrich-style gauntlets made from Hakon Steel with leather underlay. Protect your forearms from biting Ghouls while keeping your hands free. Ciryonian Jack and Pants, strong enough to stop claws and fangs from most creatures. Light enough, you can run from what it won’t stop. Standard lace-up hobnailed boots with a bit of reinforcement courtesy of yours truly. And lastly, an interesting bit of leather work from Lusitania. They call it a Bandolier, drape it over your shoulder, and have an extra belt. Seems useful to me.”
Picking up and feeling the equipment, Cole was impressed. It was light but felt sturdy. “I’ll take it. How much will it cost?”
Emma smiled. “I’ll give it to you cheap if you promise to be a repeat customer. In my experience, Rest-Bringers are rough on their gear. Musty tombs and rotting bodies turn even the best equipment into junk.”
Lips quirked in amusement, Cole bought the gear. His coin purse was significantly lighter but not completely emptied. Emma packed up the equipment and gave Cole some tips on maintaining it. Leaving the pavilion, Cole looked to the fountain and noted the Fiddler wasn’t present. With his errands completed, Cole set out for the Guards. The Thirteenth District Guard-tower was easy to find. Its plain, unadorned bulk sat near the district center. A giant column of gray stone upholding order, like a lesser column might hold up a roof.
Entering the Guard-Tower, Cole found himself in a large room filled with people milling about. It was an eclectic mix. Puffed-up Nobles, ratty beggars, and everything in between competing for cramped space. The smell of stale sweat mixed with old leather and dried sick; filling the cold space with a nauseating sense of exhaustion and worry. Somewhere hidden by the crowd, a voice called out.
“ALRIGHT! WHO'S NEXT?!”
The throng of people surged forward slightly, and Cole followed behind them. Slowly but surely, he pressed his way through the crowd. Using his intimidating appearance and sheer size to part the mass of people. Eventually, finding the crowd’s focus. A trio of guards sitting at desks behind a wall of bars. The exhausted-looking guards were listening to a never-ending stream of people coming up to the bars and ranting various complaints and suggestions.
The middle guard was currently listening to a well-dressed Nobleman flanked by his own Footmen. Wiry thin with a prominent Adam's apple. The Noble waived a trembling hand at the listening guard as he spoke. “Resources of House Louon are at your disposal! Just say it, and my Men will gladly start patrolling the streets looking for any Mutts!”
A few nearby people murmured in agreement as the Noble continued. “This has gone on too long! Those rabid brutes have made the streets unsafe; let's drive them out into the stinking wilds where they belong!”
Shutting his eyes in momentary weariness, Cole pushed forward. He was tempted to tell these people the truth about the killings. That it was an Undead, not a Werefolk. The fact Captain Iron-Teeth hadn’t shared that fact stopped him. The Dwarf probably had his reasons, and Cole would respect them till he knew them. Still, he could put a stop to this high-born twit and his rabble-rousing.
Shouldering past the Noble’s footman and stepping past the ranting Aristocrat Cole reached the bars. The Noble stopped mid-tirade to sputter his surprise and outrage at Cole’s action. “You there! What do you think you are doing!”
Not bothering to turn away from the Guard’s desk, Cole answered. “Not wasting the City Guard’s time.” nodding to the suddenly nervous-looking Guard, he continued. “Captain Iron-Teeth should be expecting me.”
The Guard jumped up from his chair and nodded vigorously. His hands moved to salute while his head ducked in a bow. Uncertain but clearly aware of Cole’s identity, the Guard stopped his fumbled show of deference and went to a door in the wall of bars. Unbolting and swinging it open, the Guard ushered Cole deeper into the tower. All while the Noble squawked and protested this turn of events.
Guiding Cole to a staircase, they went to the third floor and passed down a long hallway to a small office. Barely decorated and built for a Dwarf. Even without an occupant, Cole could guess the office’s owner. The Guard gestured to a standard-sized chair. “Wait here; I’ll go find the Captain.”
It didn’t take long for Iron-Teeth to appear. Bags large enough to hold a month's worth of exhaustion hung under the Dwarf's eyes while his beard was greasy and matted. Cole suddenly wondered if Iron-Teeth had slept at all since their last encounter. Seeing Cole, the Guard-Captain gave a grunt of acknowledgment before sharing his bleak news.
“We found another body; follow me.”
Without a word between them, the Paladin and Guard-Captain left the Tower and slipped down side streets. Finding themselves in a small shrine hidden away in an alley. A quartet of nervous-looking Guards blocked the alley’s entrance, and the shrine itself was watched over by Cat-Eyes and a bandaged Darvy. Hidden between great buildings and unmarked on any common map, the Shrine was a small but cared-for thing. A crude but recognizable likeness of Saint Marin sitting in a wooden shack decorated with simple offerings and talismans. Aside from the brutalized corpse splayed out across the altar, it could be any Begger Shrine.
Dried blood covered the cobblestones, and the smell of cold death mixed with refuse in the alley. Softly, Cole reached the body, the nervous Guards and Officers letting him pass. Maybe twenty five in age, the Victim was a woman with a flat nose and brown hair. Bloody lips were split in an incongruous smile while glassy eyes stared vacantly at the Shrine’s tarpaulin roof. The Victim's chest was a mess of gore, and she leaned against the Shrine altar like it was a makeshift chair.
Gripping onto his medallion, Cole called on his power. Unnaturally pale blue eyes turned silver as holy light coursed through him. Looking into the victim’s eyes, he caught glimpses of his last moments. It was a confused jumble of thoughts and soporific sensations. Broken only by the muted pain of something sharp at work.
Blinking away the sensation, Cole asked the watching Iron-Teeth. “She was drugged? Were all of them?”
Nodding, Iron-Teeth elaborated. “Aye, everyone Mina could examine was not right when they died. I’ve shaken the local Dens and Dealers with little result. Did you find anything else?”
Cole got into his haunches and looked at the body. “No, whatever was used made my Corpse Sight near useless.”
Cat-Eyes scoffed then. “Mina could have told us that? Aren’t you supposed to be a Paladin? Shouldn’t you have found more?”
Ignoring the prickly Catblooded woman, Cole mused on his vision. Her death barely hurt, yet she was also conscious.”
Iron-Teeth grunted. “Yes, all the previous ones Mina examined were awake but not aware of the pain when they died.”
Standing up and looking over the body more closely, Cole remarked. “It's odd. Drugging the victim, so they don’t feel any pain almost seems merciful. Yet if that was the goal, why not knock them out? That would be easier than keeping the victim in this sort of stupor, right?”
Darvy made a noise of confirmation from beneath his bandaged mouth. Seeing the injured guard, Cole winced. “I’m sorry about the teeth.”
Darvy simply shrugged, pointed at Iron-Teeth, and made a noise half-way between a laugh and groan. Cat-Eyes sighed in annoyance. “Before they fixed his jaw and put in the new teeth, he said matching the Captain would be ‘fun.’ His word, not mine”
Scratching at his chin, Cole nodded to the corpse. “Having the victim awake for their death must have been important. Why, though? If the goal was cruelty, why drug them? If the goal was mercy, why let them be awake? It's a strange middle ground that makes little sense.”
Stroking his ill-kept beard in thought, Iron-Teeth asked. “Magic or madness seems the only reason I can think of. Is there some kind of Undead that does this? Anything you’ve encountered, Paladin?”
Shaking his head in the negative, Cole asked. “I need more details before I can say. How many dead, and is there anything linking them?”
Cole bent down and, with a gloved hand, prodded the torn-open victim as Iron-Teeth listed off the details. “This will be our tenth victim. Each killed the same way. Drugged, and their heart ripped out with bare teeth. Each murder has been at a shrine, grave, or similar. We found the first victims about a month ago but only realized there was a pattern by the fourth, nearly a week later. They all were fairly young humans. In their twenties and thirties. Each with a legitimate reason to be out at night and near where we found them.”
Frowning, Cole ran his finger along the victim’s chest cavity. A sharp blade had been used to open the chest, and then teeth were used to pull the heart free. Pointlessly messy and gruesome. While there were Undead who favored eating their victims' hearts, Cole had a hard time seeing any of them being responsible. It was time to take a closer look.
Shutting his eyes, Cole took a deep breath and drew upon his soul's connection to the divine. Whenever Cole used his Paladin abilities, he caught glimpses of the Aether. A side effect of using the tiny piece of divinity enmeshed in his soul. Now that he was using those abilities more, Cole was starting to think of new ways to use them. If he could peek into the Aether by accident, why not do it on purpose?
Cole opened his eyes and saw the Shrine as a spirit might. The residue of a violent death clung to the corpse like filth. While the sickly-sweet taint of a drugged mind muddied the Aether’s waters. Creating a murky mix of thoughts and feelings. Sifting through this, Cole hunted for the telltale signs of Dark Magic. But try as he might, no hint of Necromancy or Undeath stained the Shrine. Yet it wasn’t as if the Aether had been scrubbed clean. The Shrine was coated in faith and desperation like so many layers of paint. While the city's larger mix of emotions and actions pressed down on the small alley like some tidal current. Even in that tumultuous environment, the touch of Darkness should have been clear.
Deciding to try a different approach, Cole looked for more mundane traces. Magic left marks in the Aether, but so did emotion. Pushing through the cloying cloud of drugged-death, Cole hunted for anything abnormal. To his surprise, it didn’t take long. Small traces of something strange hid within the Aetheric mess the murder made. Flickers of carnal joy, obsessive devotion, and white-hot rage. The contradictory but commingling emotions were sickening in their intensity.
Pulling back, Cole let his Aetheric Sight end. Sucking in lungfuls of air he swore still tasted of sickly-sweet murder, Cole fell to his knees. The experience had been more than he expected, but for a first real attempt, it had worked remarkably well. Regaining his composure, Cole got up to see the nervous-looking guards staring at him.
Iron-Teeth cautiously asked. “What did you do?”
Cole shrugged. “Tried something new. I think it might have paid off.”
Cat-Eyes growled. “Trying something new? You shuffled around the alley like a drunk while your eyes lit up.” looking at Darvy, she asked. “Are we sure this guy is a Paladin? Shouldn’t he be more… impressive?”
Darvy just gave her a confused look and made a noncommittal grunt. Cole ignored the City Warden, uncertain of what he’d done to annoy her. He hadn’t even injured her; why was she so eager to cut him with words?
Gesturing at the body, Cole said. “I couldn’t find a trace of Undeath.” Cat-Eyes looked like she was about to say something, but Iron-Teeth cut her off with a glare, and Cole continued. “But I caught bits of strange emotions. Powerful, twisted feelings clinging to this place.”
Iron-Teeth made a noise of understanding. “You think they belonged to the Killer?”
Cole nodded. “Yes, but that's part of what’s so odd. Undeath tends to mute or simplify emotions. Vampires are the only breed of Higher Undead who retain anything like the complexity I’m seeing. And I find it doubtful the killer is a Vampire. There are no fang marks, and they’d have set off the Wards just as much as Natalie.”
A slightly more receptive Cat-Eyes came over towards the body, wrinkling her nose at the smell she asked. “So what does that mean?”
Cole looked at the beatific face of Saint Marin, splattered with frozen blood. “It means either this is some kind of Undead I’ve never encountered or even heard of. Or the killer is a living being.”
As that idea settled in everyone’s mind, Cole looked to Iron-Teeth. “Why did you think the killer was undead in the first place? Morri told me about the bite marks. Was there anything else?”
Darvy and Iron-Teeth looked at each other, their eyes widening in dawning horror. Iron-Teeth snarled. “Jag me! Mina saw the bite marks, and she assumed it was Undead. We were doubtful at first since the killings happened on hallowed ground. But Mina said some Undead can bypass those protections.”
Frowning in sudden concern, Iron-Teeth asked. “We’ve been operating under that assumption for more than a week. Are you saying Mina was wrong?”
Cat-Eyes stiffened at that. “What else eats raw human flesh? Even Pale Orcs cook their victims first!”
Collecting his thoughts and organizing them into a proper arrangement. Cole spoke. “It's an easy assumption to make. Priestess Mina is young, barely ordained but trained by a retired Rest-Bringer. She saw what her training taught her to see. I wouldn’t blame her for making a good guess with the given information.”
“And City-Warden?” he continued, a sad note to his voice. “The answers to your question are as varied as they are horrible.”Cat-Eyes blanched at that, her tanned skin losing a few shades of bronze at the implications.
Cole barely noticed, he just kept processing everything he’d learned. “The wards caught Natalie but nothing else. Those wards are specifically designed to catch Undead. If it was possible to bypass the wards enough to blatantly kill people for months, then the City would have long fallen to the Blood Duchies. The Refugees are magically marked and can’t spill innocent blood without alerting the entire Tenth Temple. It seems almost impossible for this to be an Undead.”
Grinding his replacement teeth together so hard they almost produced sparks, the Guard Captain asked. “So we have nothing? All this effort for jagging nothing?”
Shrugging, Cole gestured at the body. “No, we eliminated possibilities. It's progress, we can focus on other options now.”
Frowning, Cat-Eyes asked. “You still want to help us? But if this doesn’t involve Undead, you have no jurisdiction?”
Cole smiled weakly. “These people had their Time cut short by something twisted. Living or undead, the killer cannot go free. Also, I swore an oath to Captain Iron-Teeth and others besides. I’ll lend my skills to this investigation as long as you will have me.”
Iron-Teeth’s face tightened in a grimace. He didn’t particularly like the Paladin, but saw no reason not to accept his help. “Fine, we’ll put you to use, Sir Paladin. Do you have any suggestions?”
Looking at the desecrated shrine, Cole asked. “The use of holy places strikes me as important. Perhaps there is a pattern there. Would you mind sharing the details of each location?”
Iron-Teeth quickly rattled off all ten locations, the victims, and their professions from memory. His people's knack for memorization turned to grim use. Cole listened intently. Marking the locations in his mental map of Vindabon. Each murder had happened somewhere secluded but sacred. Family tombs, shrines to minor Saints, that sort of place. The seventh murder, the one at the Vindabon cemetery, was the only one at a prominent location, but that seemed to be an abnormality. As Iron-Teeth finished his grim list, Cole noted an absence.
“What about the murder near the docks?” he asked. Thinking back to the alley he’d visited upon first arriving in Vindabon. Master Time’s influence had practically dragged him there, and he’d sensed the pall of violent death upon it. But Iron-Teeth hadn’t listed the location.
The Guard-Captain looked at Cole with confusion. “What murder? None of the killings have been close to Doxwerva?”
The eastern part of the Canal went through multiple districts of Vindabon. With the Twelfth District, Doxwerva, taking up much of the port. The alley had been right near the border of the Twelfth and Thirteenth districts, and Cole wondered if the Doxwerva Guards had kept information from their Weinstadt counterparts.
“Strange, I sensed something… unpleasant there when I first arrived.” Cole mused out loud. Privately wondering what other reason could Master Time have directed him there if it didn’t connect to the murders.
Darvy then made a loud exclamation and started waving his hands. Once all eyes were on him, he fumbled through his belt and pulled out a notepad, and frantically scribbled something onto it. Cat-Eyes grabbed the pad then and read Darvy’s note.
“Apparently, there’s a recently discovered under-building near where the Paladin is describing. The Lieutenant has assigned people to guard the entrance and keep it clear of riff-raff.”
Confused, Cole asked. “Under-building?”
Iron-Teeth looked at Cole as if he was daft. “An Under-Building. You’ve never heard of them?”
At Cole’s confirmation, the Guard Captain explained. “Vindabon is an old city. It survived the Bloody Centuries, but not without difficulty. Some of the magic used to attack and defend the city was vicious. Whole sections of the city were flooded, crushed, burned, and worse. The old Vindabonites didn’t have the time to properly rebuild, so they often just built right on top of ruins. Some of those ruins are still somewhat usable; we call them Under-Buildings.”
Cat-Eyes piped up then. “They’re usually not much more than a partially caved-in cellar or something, but smugglers, thieves, and other Rats make good use of them. We try to document and seal them off to keep the city safe.”
Darvy grabbed his note-pad back from Cat-Eyes and scribbled something more. Annoyed to act as translator, Cat-Eyes took the pad back and sighed. She gave the lieutenant a look but still read the message. “Darvy wonders if the Under-Building connects into the warrens.”
Shrugging, Darvy pantomimed a bunch of tunnels crisscrossing each other in a mess of underground chambers. Cat-Eyes swatted at the Lieutenant with his own notepad. “Horse shit, the Warrens aren’t nearly that complicated.”
Darvy gestured wildly at the surrounding city, pointed downwards, and grunted. Cat-Eyes snapped back. “I’ve helped map them, you idiot! Sure they connect into the new and old sewers, but they aren’t some sprawling catacomb. Like you and every other gullible fool seem to believe.”
Feeling a little confused, Cole asked. “Warrens? Does the city have a catacomb system?”
Darvy shook his head in confirmation while Cat-Eyes interjected. “No, not really. Some of the Underbuildings are interconnected by some tunnels, but it's not like the Necropolis of Parilux or the Eternal City. The Warrens and Under-Buildings are just ruins criminals and beggars sometimes use, not a burial place.”
A tunnel system under the city. The idea sent shivers up Cole’s spine. He had years of experience navigating caverns and the like. But that didn’t mean he didn't hate every second below the surface. To be crushed under stone and buried alive… Few fates seemed worse to an Immortal. Still, he couldn’t let fear consume him; Master Time had pointed him toward this Under-Building for a reason.
Darvy and Cat-Eyes started to squabble about the nature and size of the Warrens, so Cole returned to the body. Hoping to do one final check in case he missed something. Iron-Teeth watched him, the Dwarf half-lost in worried thought. Taking a moment, Cole shut the victim’s eyes and started to pray. The victim’s soul wasn’t trapped in their body; dying on hallowed ground had released them. Still, this empty, desecrated husk deserved something to note its life.
Cole had been fully committed to investigating the murder when he first arrived. Shutting away that hunter side of himself, he looked at the victim as a person, not as a possible clue. Thin with a face unnaturally aged by stress, she looked like someone who’d lived a hard life. Still, it had been her life, not something to be stolen in such a bizarre and terrible fashion. Looking at the grisly wound where the woman’s chest should be, Cole could understand why the people of Vindabon had been so quick to assume a Monster had been behind this. A cursed Werecreature or an Undead horror. The idea something unnatural and warped was behind these murders could be as comforting as it was terrifying.
Years as a Paladin had taught Cole the ugly truth of the world. There are Monsters, truly terrible things born of dark magic and fell curses. But any evil of Demonic or Necromantic origin could be matched by mortalkind if given the opportunity. More than once, Cole had been called to towns and villages supposedly plagued by some Undead. Only to learn petty hatred and cruel stupidity were the cause of whatever deaths the town had experienced. Looking at the dead woman propped against the shrine, Cole had a sense the same thing was happening in Vindabon. Only on a much larger scale.
The killer had intentionally or accidentally bought themselves a pair of scapegoats in the form of the Werefolk and Undead. Distracting and delaying the Guards as the city’s people grew more and more restless. In those towns beset by fictional undead, Cole had seen more than one angry mob. In Vindabon, a metropolis of more than a million citizens, mob violence could cascade into bloodshed comparable to entire wars. Natalie had seen the Angler prepare his net, and Cole could now guess to why.
Grimacing, Cole looked at the murder site. Ten people, six women and four men brutally killed at holy sites, and still no good answers as to why or who was responsible. That thought stuck in Cole’s head, something about it itching at him. Six women and four men. Ten victims, each killed one after another. Six women and four men. Each murdered at a shrine or similar. Six women and four men…
Bolting upright, Cole whirled to face Iron-Teeth. “Captain, what was the order of the victims?” he asked, a sudden intensity to his voice that pulled all eyes onto him.
Iron-Teeth listed the victims in order. Woman, man, woman, man, woman, man, woman, man, woman…woman. A clear pattern for eight victims, only broken for the last two. Except, what if the pattern wasn’t broken? This murder had happened in a Beggar Shrine, somewhere far off the beaten path. Only discovered hours later by chance. What if there was another victim? Their body left somewhere hard to access or among people unlikely to report it.
Turning to Cat-Eyes, Cole asked. “Are there any religious sites in the Warrens? A shrine to an obscure Saint? Some sunken or broken temple? Anything like that?”
Confused, the City Warden answered. “No, not to my knowledge. Why?”
Comprehension dawned on Iron-Teeth’s face as he understood Cole’s line of thought. “You think we have missed a victim? A body down in the Warrens.”
Nodding, Cole let out a deep breath. If the pattern held true and Cat-Eyes was correct, they had another problem. A hidden shrine down in the Warrens was not something worshippers of the Pantheon would build. But it was something followers of a Darker God might.
Running a finger along his axe, Cole said. “Yes, and I think Vindabon might have a Cult problem.”