With
the diviner gone, the trio decided to spend the rest of the day
resting up for the night’s stakeout. Even still tired from the
blood loss, Santino insisted on going along, in case another zombie
showed up. Heimish also insisted on continuing to go, as his healing
abilities could be needed.
Even with the oil and other supplies Stein had procured for her, Natalya was glad to have the help. She was still a bit unnerved at the way her rapier had slid harmlessly into the foe’s rotten flesh.
That night, well after dark, the trio grabbed a quick breakfast of cheese and dried meat, then headed out. They weren’t too far from the manor when Santino stopped.
“What is it?” Natalya whispered.
“I think I found a clue. Something’s killing a dog. I’m going to go check it out.”
“I’m continuing on to the monument,” Natalya said. “Observe, don’t engage.”
Santino scoffed. “Like I’d ever stop someone from killing a dog.” He turned to Heimish. “Want to come along?”
Heimish shook his head. “I’d only slow you down. I’m better off where I can wait and watch.”
“Fair enough. Meet you guys there in a bit.” Santino moved quickly in the direction the sound had originated from, and arrived within minutes. But he found nothing. “I hope it’s not just my mind playing tricks on me,” he said, cursing as he suddenly heard the sound of a mosquito in his ear.
He waved his hand around his ear and looked around to make sure it wasn’t another giant stirge. But it was just a tiny mosquito after all. As he looked, he noticed something.
There weren’t any sounds. The night was deathly silent, without even the sound of an owl or the chirp of a cricket to break the unnatural stillness. “Well,” Santino said to himself. “That isn’t creepy at all.”
At the monument, Natalya and Heimish had just finished setting up their snares and noisemakers and were heading towards their hiding places when Heimish stopped. “Hey, we haven’t seen any guards yet,” he whispered. “I thought they were going to be stepping up patrols.”
Natalya considered it, then shrugged before crawling into a bush to hide.
“I’m not crazy,” Santino said to himself as he continued scouring for clues in the dark. Not that skulking around an alleyway, talking to himself in the early morning hours was helping his case. Then he spotted it. “Aha!” he whispered in triumph, carefully dabbing up the spot of blood with his handkerchief.
If nothing else, he could show it to the others to prove he hadn’t wasted his time. And maybe Stein had some way to prove that it was a dog that had been killed. He had a lab, after all.
His prize safely folded and in his pocket, Santino looked up just in time to see a figure walk by the far end of the alleyway. “Well, hello there,” he whispered, his interest piqued. He remembered Natalya’s words, and began carefully tailing the figure. Eventually he would lead to the dead dog, and he’d have his culprit.
The figure walked down the road and over the bridge leading to the temple. Then he suddenly stopped. In a panic, Santino dove behind a nearby building. When he peeked back out, he saw the man – that much was clear in the moonlight – putting a flask back into the pouch on his belt.
“What’s in the flask?” Santino whispered to himself. “Dog’s blood? Demon’s blood? The blood of a demonic dog?” He had to know who this person was. He had to get closer.
Over the course of the next fifteen minutes, Santino inched closer and closer, trying to make out the man’s face. He was less than sixty feet away when he finally got a look at the man in profile. His face was familiar, but Santino couldn’t quite place it.
But he could get a better look at the flask the man carried. It was rather large. “Must have been a big dog,” Santino thought. “Way more blood in there than you’d get from those little dogs noble ladies keep.”
They were getting further from buildings, so Santino backed off a bit, but kept following. When they reached the temple, the figure stopped again, looked around, then pulled out his flask and took a swig.
“That’s disgusting,” Santino whispered to himself, shaking his head at the thought of drinking dog’s blood. He’d done disgusting things before, but even he drew the line somewhere.
Back at the monument, Heimish was getting a bit of a cramp in his leg from having been crouched for well over an hour. Carefully, he moved and stretched his calf, which startled a bird that was also hiding in the bush. It chirped, which in turn, startled Heimish, causing him nearly to fall over.
Natalya, who had witnessed the whole thing, just shook her head. Moments later, she spotted something out of the corner of her eye. It was Santino, walking past the alley parallel to the one where Heimish and his bush were located. He looked right where she was hiding and made some hand motions that she took to indicate that he was following someone and would call for help if necessary.
He was at an angle where Heimish wouldn’t see him, so Natalya waited until he passed and motioned for Heimish to be ready.
Santino rounded the corner carefully, and spotted the figure leaning against a wall, flask in hand. His coat was open, and Santino spotted a glint on the man’s chest.
Santino sighed. “Nice night for a walk,” he said aloud.
Deputy Riff jumped at the sudden sound, dropping his thankfully still closed flask. “Pharasma!” he near-shouted. “You scared the heck out of me.” He bent down to pick up his flask.
“Sorry, Deputy,” came a voice from a nearby bush. Riff dropped his flask again, twitching even more as Heimish stood and a bird flew out, right past the deputy.
Riff finally managed to pick up the flask and took a big swig. Santino could smell the coffee from where he was standing.
Disgusted at all the noise they were making, Natalya carefully crawled out from underneath the bush she was hiding in and walked over. “Sorry,” Santino said. “I thought I had a suspect, but it turns out I was trailing a deputy all night.” He got a serious look on his face. “Though, that still doesn’t explain what else I found.” He pulled out his handkerchief. “Deputy, have you bled at all tonight?”
“No, I don’t think so,” Riff responded. The deputy pulled out a tindertwig, lit it and inspected the handkerchief. “This definitely looks like blood. Where did you find it?”
“It’s not too far from here. I can show you.”
“Give me a moment,” Natalya said. “Stakeout is a bust. I’ll clean up my snares and come with you.” She took only a couple minutes to do so then returned to the alley.
“And, so, if we find the mosquito, maybe it can lead us to the dog,” Santino was saying.
“Dare I ask?” Natalya whispered to Heimish.
“Don’t get him started again,” Heimish replied.
“Come on, let’s go!” Santino said, grabbing Riff by the hand and leading the beleaguered deputy towards the location where he had found the blood.
“You know what, you go ahead,” Natalya said. “There’s one more trap I just remembered. Gonna take me a bit and you look eager to get going.”
“Need some help?” Heimish asked.
“Sure.”
When they arrived, the deputy took back his hand and lit a torch. In the light, the blood was obvious, and it led in a distinctive trail. “Wow, how did I miss all of that?” Santino asked.
“Because it was dark?” Riff asked in reply.
“Maybe,” Santino agreed.
“The blood leads this way,” Riff said, following the trail.
The trail started heading towards the monument, but then suddenly veered off and headed in the opposite direction.
The trail continued on, eventually reaching a large home. “Sheriff’s not gonna like this,” Riff said. “We’ve got another clean up.”
There, on the wall of the home of Vashian Hearthmount was a giant ‘S’ written in the blood of a dog. The dog’s entrails were scattered all about. “Well, that’s not gonna be fun to clean,” Santino said. “Want me to run and get the other two?”
“Go ahead.”
“Alright, I’ll be right back. If you’re not here when I get back, I’m going to assume you’re the killer!” Santino called out as he hurried away.
“What?” Riff asked, but Santino was already out of earshot.
On the way back, Santino showed the others the trail of blood. From where it changed course, Natalya could get a good look at both her and Heimish’s positions, though the bushes still should have hidden them from view, unless they made a mistake in hiding that was only visible from here.
If they were spotted, it meant the stakeout wasn’t going to work. If this trail didn’t lead to the culprit, they would have to start making patrols instead. With her tiefling eyes, walking through town in the dark wouldn’t be a problem for Natalya, but she worried about how it would affect Santino and Heimish.
Riff was waiting when they returned. “It’s a definite mess, but I can’t tell where the vandal went after leaving here.”
Natalya scanned the area. “Deputy, did you walk over there while you were searching?”
“What?” Riff asked, looking where she pointed. “No, why?”
“There’s a bit of shine on the grass right there, about the size of a boot. I think someone stepped on the grass there.”
“I see it!” the deputy gasped. “Good eye.”
“There’s another just beyond it,” Santino noted.
“And several more beyond that,” Heimish said.
They followed the trail of footprints – and several drops of blood – until eventually coming to a shed behind someone’s home. The door was locked, but there was a small pool of blood on the floor next to it.
“Who lives here?” Natalya asked, happy to finally have a solid lead.
“This place belongs to Old Gibbs,” Riff answered.
That name sounded familiar, but Natalya couldn’t place it. Santino, on the other hand, recognized it. “Clever!” he said. “You never expect the asshole to be the killer!”
“Don’t jump to conclusions,” Riff said, taking a swig from his flask. “We’ll go knocking on his door, but let me do the talking.”
It took several minutes of loud banging before the door finally creaked open. An annoyed looking man in his bedclothes glared at the group. “What is it?” he asked.
“Sorry to wake you Gibbs,” Riff said. “But I need to ask you some questions about your shed.”
“My shed? What about my shed.”
“Does anyone else have a key to your shed?”
“What? No.” Natalya was watching him, trying to assess his responses for truthfulness. As far as she could tell, he was telling the truth, just confused and angry about being awoken. She asked the others about it later, and they agreed that was what they seemed to get from him as well.
“Okay, then we’re going to need you to open the shed for us.”
“What for?”
“Gibbs, just open the shed, please,” Riff said.
“Fine,” Gibbs grumbled. “Just let me put on some pants first.”
After he returned inside, Santino turned to Riff. “Maybe you should give him some of your coffee?”
Gibbs returned a few minutes later, dressed and key in hand. “I’d really like to know what you’re looking for,” he said as he pulled off the lock.
“I’m hoping it’s nothing,” Riff said. “But we have to be thorough.”
They didn’t have to look long. Immediately after the door was open, there, right before them, lay a blood covered straight razor of the type used by barbers. Santino inspected it. “The blood’s still moist,” he said.
“What the hell?” Gibbs asked. “Who put that there?” His eyes grew wide as he finally put two and two together. “It wasn’t me! It was these people! You’re going to take the word of these outsiders over mine?!”
“That’s for the sheriff to determine,” Riff said. “For now, I need to take you in.”
“You can’t! This is an outrage!”
Gibbs began to resist, but Heimish put a hand on his shoulder. “Friend, I understand you’re upset. But this isn’t the way. If you’re innocent, I have faith that the sheriff will see it. Fighting with the deputy only serves to make you look guilty.”
The fight went out of Gibbs and his shoulders slumped. “Fine, let’s get this over with.”
“Good man,” Riff said. “Will the three of you keep an eye on the crime scene until I can get the sheriff out there? I wouldn’t want anyone tampering with it.”
The trio returned to the scene of the crime and kept watch until Benjan Caellar finally arrived just after dawn. They were telling him about what had happened from their points of view when they heard the door to the home open. Turning, they saw a confused looking Vashian Hearthmount.
“What are you people doing out in front of my house this early in the morning?” he asked.
Benjan walked over to him. “Vashian, don’t be alarmed, but, well… there’s been another vandalism.”
“They struck the monument again?”
“Not exactly.”
“What do you mean by – oh my god.” Vashian stepped out from the doorway and looked at his home, the blood and gore quite visible in early morning light. “This is an outrage!” he shouted. “Benjan, you’d better have some leads, or so help me…”
Santino walked over and extended his hand. “Hi! I’m Santino, in case you’ve forgotten, and we’ve been helping the Sheriff look into this. I’m happy to say that we found-” He stopped suddenly when Benjan put his hand over Santino’s mouth.
“What he means to say is, yes, we’re looking into something,” Benjan interrupted. “But it’s far too early to say anything about it, for fear of damaging the investigation.”
“I can understand that,” Vashian said. “But make all haste with your investigation. People are getting restless and need answers.”
“For restless people, they seemed to be awful quiet last night,” Heimish noted. Natalya rolled her eyes at his joke.
“You three, give me a minute to speak with Councilor Hearthmount,” Benjan told the others, who went ahead and walked over to get a better look at the bloody graffiti in the day’s light.
“This is a really amateur job,” Santino critiqued.
“He probably couldn’t see,” Heimish responded.
“Fair enough.”
A few minutes later, Benjan came over to them. “I want to thank you for your help last night. We’ll take it from here, but we’ll keep you apprised of developments.”
“Actually, we may know a guy who can confirm that the blood on the razor is the same as the blood from the scene,” Santino offered.
Benjan sighed. “Fine, send him by my office and I’ll talk to him.”
The trio headed back to the manor for some well-earned rest. There, they found Kendra and Stein sitting in the living room. “Ah, there they are,” Stein said. “How’d it go?”
“Someone’s killing dogs now,” Santino answered. “Oh, and you’re joining the cops. Take your blood testing equipment, if you have any.”
“What?” Natalya interceded and explained the situation to him. “I see,” Stein said. “I’ll go in a little bit. But first, I’ll tend to breakfast.”
Santino’s ears perked up. “What’s for breakfast?”
“Waffles,” Stein answered. “And sausage. But you get soup.”
“What? Why?”
“It’s good for you.”
Santino rolled his eyes. “Fine. What kind of soup?”
“The good kind.”
“That’s not a flavor,” Santino whined. As soon as Stein was gone, he turned to Kendra and gave her puppy dog eyes. “Can I please have some waffles?” he begged.
“Sorry,” she said. “It’s probably for your own good.”
“Fine,” Santino pouted. “I’m gonna go get changed.”
At breakfast, Santino was certain he saw Stein smirking at him from behind his plate of waffles. So Santino did the only rational thing he could think of. He wolfed down his soup, drinking down even the large solid chunks without chewing, and went to the kitchen to make his own waffles.
He returned a few minutes later with a plate of the soggiest, saddest looking waffles anyone at the table had ever seen. Parts of them didn’t even look like they’d been cooked at all, other parts had scorch marks.
“You’re going to clean up whatever mess you made in the kitchen, right?” Kendra asked Santino, who was happily munching on what could only charitably be called a waffle.
“Are you telling me to?” Santino asked, his mouth full.
“…Yes.”
“Okay then,” he answered, going back to eating noisily.
As Santino ate and cleaned, Heimish fell asleep. He dreamed of blood and letters. He saw his name, or at least bits and pieces of it, in several places. Eventually, he awoke, sitting bolt upright and covered in sweat.
Santino, finally done cleaning the kitchen, joined Kendra for a bit before his nap. “So, how are things with Alvin?” he asked.
“What do you mean?” she asked.
“You know, dating?”
“Dating? I don’t really have time for that. Alvin’s just a friend.”
“Well, you should make time,” he said. “You, of all people, deserve to be happy.”
“I’ll consider it. Do I need to double check your work in the kitchen?”
“No, I did good,” Santino said, feigning outrage.
“Okay, then go get some sleep. You look pretty tired.” Santino bid her good night and obediently scurried off to bed, where his dreams were plagued with mosquitoes and terrible flute melodies.
Natalya tossed and turned for a bit before finally falling asleep. Her dreams were strange as well. She saw bars and chains, but a number of holy symbols. There seemed to be no rhyme or reason to the selection of the symbols, though she did recognize most major religions and one that matched the one Heimish seemed to favor.
A desk appeared, and on it was a journal. Curious, she walked over to investigate it. Upon opening the book, she suddenly felt a shiver down her spine as the warmth left the room.
The journal had been penned by a man named Sefick Corvin, who had been a con artist. His own words detailed his many cons. Most were run of the mill, involving things like selling fake holy water and miracle cures – she’d seen plenty of that kind of thing in the tiefling ghettos – but several were much more complex.
One even involved using holy symbols for The Black Butterfly and the Archdevil Belial to play a pair of nobles against each other, with the latter being a man who had wanted to ensnare and bed a young woman, and the former wanting to save the woman from her strict familial obligations. Sefick had made quite a bit of money doing so, and had great fun at the sport of it all.
Natalya wasn’t surprised to learn in one of the entries that Sefick Corvin had been a Sczarni. She’d never encountered one who hadn’t been trouble.
She woke up, still feeling terribly cold, but the surprise of that paled in comparison to the fact that sitting plain as day on the foot of her bed was the journal from her dream. “What in hell is this doing here?” she asked no one in particular.
It was early afternoon, just about time to wake up anyway, so she got up, dressed and took the book to show the others. “That’s a bit concerning,” Heimish said after hearing her tale.
“Yeah, definitely a little weird,” Santino agreed. “Should we go check in on the sheriff?” After all, her dreams were definitely a lot less horrifying than his, and he was coping just fine aside from the occasional twitch.
“Yeah, sure,” Natalya said with a shrug.
At the sheriff’s office, Gibbs glowered at them as they passed his cell on the way to meet with Benjan. “How goes the investigation, good sheriff?” Heimish asked in greeting.
“Not great,” the sheriff answered. “I’ve questioned Gibbs, and I think I believe him. Either he’s telling the truth and genuinely knows nothing, or he’s an incredible liar. I’ve known Gibbs for years, and trust me, he’s a terrible liar, so that leaves only the one possibility.”
Before anyone could respond, the door to the office opened. “It’s a match!” Stein said, holding up the now clean razor.
“I was hoping it wouldn’t be,” Benjan said with a sigh. “He won’t say anything about whether he owns the razor or not.”
“Did you follow up with the wife?” Santino asked.
“Yes. She didn’t say much. But I’m warning you to stay away from her, for your own good,” Benjan answered. “She’s much scarier than Gibbs could ever be.”
“Aww, you do care!” Santino exclaimed, holding his arms open and expecting a hug.
Benjan ignored him. “So that puts us back at square one.”
“Not necessarily,” Natalya said, looking at the razor. “That’s a pretty fine tool there.” It didn’t remotely compare to Faith, but not much could. Still, it was a well-made razor.
“I suppose so,” Benjan answered, not sure where she was going with this.
“I’d bet the smith who made it would remember such a thing, and quite possibly, who it was sold to.”
“Oh! That’s right!” Santino said, grabbing the razor. “That’s Jorfa’s mark right there. I bet she could tell us who it belongs to.”
Benjan nodded. “Fine. Look into it. But be discreet. We don’t need everyone knowing that we’ve arrested someone as part of the investigation.”
Stein cleared his throat. “If that’s all I’m needed for, I should probably get back. I have to check on the kitchen.”
Santino rolled his eyes. “Kitchen’s clean.” Then he got a devilish grin. “Privy, much less so.”
Stein shook his head, and noticed the other two’s faces. “You three look like hell. Did you not sleep?”
“Not well,” Natalya said, explaining her dream and showing everyone the journal.
“That’s very strange,” Stein agreed. “Not much I can do about that, but I do have some herbs that will help you three sleep. I’ll mix up a batch before you next go to bed.”
“Thanks,” Heimish said.
Jorfa was in the middle of smithing some barrel rings when they arrived, and refused to be interrupted. After about half an hour, she finally reached a stopping point and checked in on them. “So, what can I help you folks with today?”
Natalya pulled out the razor. “We found this on the street, and Santino says this is your mark. We were hoping you could tell us who it belongs to so we can return it and maybe see about getting a reward for doing so.”
Jorfa looked at the razor. “Yeah, I remember this. Let me check my ledger.”
She left the room and Santino turned to the others. “A reward? I’d rather just keep the razor. It’s a nice razor.”
“Returning it is the right thing to do,” Heimish said.
“Fine,” Santino said, pouting. “I’ll just get Jorfa to make me one of my very own.”
Jorfa returned and gave them what they needed, confirming that it was indeed Gibbs’ razor. They thanked her, and they set off again, after Santino had placed his own order, of course.
As they were on the road, Santino stopped. “It’s fitting together nicely. Too nicely, if you ask me.”
“What do you mean?” Heimish asked.
“Well, it’s just too easy. Like killing cats. You know, when you get your hands around their necks and squeeze. Just goes pop pop pop, and then they’re dead.”
Natalya and Heimish exchanged a worried look at his choice of metaphor, but they couldn’t disagree that things did seem a bit too tidy for their liking.
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