Sami was stumped.
’Ah... what to do... what to do...’
He couldn’t help but wonder if he had jinxed himself earlier when he said that this quest was going to be tough.
’Damn this mouth! I should learn how to control it.’
With a sigh, he looked down at himself. But after a few seconds, he smiled as a light bulb blinked on above his head.
What’s the best way to find a policeman who is hidden? Wasn’t it to commit a crime?
Turning to the old man who now looked drunk, he asked one last question.
"What happens to dead bodies in this town?"
The old man arched a brow, watching him out of the corner of his eye.
’He asks so many questions about death...’ He thought.
Not minding that though, he looked away and shrugged. "After the Emissaries of Death conduct their investigation, the corpses get taken to the central crypt. If no family comes for it after a day, it is then taken to the Graveyard dedicated to Death."
"Ah... I see."
A few seconds later, Sami suddenly reached out and wrapped his arm around the man’s shoulder.
"What’s your name, friend?"
Startled, the man tried to free himself, while slurring out his answer. "Garrick. It’s Garrick."
"Okay Garrick." Sami’s smile began to widen. "I have a confession to make."
For some reason, Garrick began to sweat as he stared into the stranger’s eyes.
Only now did he realize that he did not even know this stranger’s name.
"Wh—who are you really?" He couldn’t help but ask.
Sami didn’t respond immediately, causing Garrick to tense slightly.
Then, with an evil looking grin, he finally whispered, "A murderer who has found himself in Death’s town and wants to have some fun."
The old man trembled, suddenly filled with horror. But before he could shout, Sami released his shoulder, then gave him a solid chop to the side of his neck.
Garrick fell into Sami’s arms, and as his vision began to blur, he heard Sami say, "Forgive me, friend. Try not to trust strangers next time."
Quickly looking around, Sami confirmed that the other two homeless people in the alley were either sleeping or too passed out from cheap liquor to care.
He then leaned back against the wall and smiled. "Alright, Emissaries of Death. Let’s play a game. Find the killer." His smile widened. "The winner at the end of the game gets to keep a beautiful pair of shortswords."
***
The two moons began to retreat into the fading violet sky. At the same time, morning sun pierced through the darkness, bleeding a dull orange light through the gloom of the sleeping town.
As the noises of people waking up began to fill the streets, Garrick finally stirred awake. He rubbed the back of his neck that was still throbbing from the strike, while blinking sluggishly to steady his vision.
When he finally regained full control of his cognitive faculties, he quickly turned around to look for the bastard that knocked him out. However, what he saw on the ground beside him filled him with horror.
It was the corpse of a woman in her mid-thirties with long black hair, brown eyes that were open and staring into nothing, and a face frozen in quiet agony. There were lots of grotesque wounds on her body as if she had been stabbed several times. There was even a deep slash across her chest that cut right through to the bone.
On the ground beside her was a writing in her blood which stated:
"Find the killer."
Garrick scrambled backwards in panic, hyperventilating as high-pitched squeaks escaped his throat.
"That son of a bitch! He killed somebody!"
The face of the man that had been with him during the night flashed through his mind. How that face had gone from being gentle and inquisitive, to a sinister mask of pure madness filled him to the bone with terror.
Garrick clutched his head with his trembling hands like one that was going insane.
At this point, one of the other homeless men that had been sleeping not so far away woke up due to the noise Garrick was making.
When he saw the body on the ground, the homeless man’s eyes widened. He quickly stood up, picked up his few belongings and began running out of the alley.
He likely didn’t want to associate himself with whatever trouble that was brewing.
Meanwhile, the streets out of the alley had grown noisy. There were murmurs from people, growing louder, as if an important group were approaching.
Garrick’s eyes widened.
He knew who were approaching. In this town, when a person was murdered, the Guild would know and would send out their envoy to inspect the scene, which usually included an Emissary of Death.
How they figured out that a person died so quickly was a mystery to most, but based on the crowd outside, it was obvious they were the ones approaching.
’Shit!’
Garrick stood up, but before he could even pick up his things and make a run for it, a peculiar group entered the alley.
They were all women, with four dressed in long black dresses that flowed all the way to the dusty cobblestones, and their hair was covered in black veils. Their lips were painted black and they had a blank expression on their faces.
The last woman, who was likely the Emissary of Death, was dressed in fitted, dark leather armor wrapped in tattered cloth, but her face was shrouded completely under a deep hood that threw her features into shadow. Two shortswords were sheathed firmly at her hips.
Silently, all five walked up to the corpse before finally coming to a halt.
At that moment, Garrick didn’t even give any of them a chance to speak. He quickly shook his hands and yelled. "I swear I know nothing about this! It was that bastard! He did this!"
Even though he knew that they would eventually discover the truth on their own, the poor man was still very terrified.
However, none of the women said anything to him. The one who stood behind the leading elderly woman stepped forward and crouched, then touched the corpse. After a few seconds, she looked to the others and spoke. "She is dead."
The elderly woman, who looked to be in her late sixties, stared at the corpse blankly for a few seconds before finally speaking.
"Channel her soul."
The younger woman who was crouched nodded. She turned back to the corpse while dipping her hand into her leather pouch to retrieve an item.
The item, which gave off a foul odor was wrapped in a small black cloth. The woman then opened the cloth to reveal what looked like a finger.
No, actually, it was an index finger with a nail that was painted black.
The woman gently laid the finger on the dead corpse’s chest, then prayed. "O Death. Grant us an audience with this departed soul, that we may be able to give her spirit true rest."
She paused.
A second passed... then another. But nothing happened.
That caused a frown to creep up the woman’s face.
She turned to the others while looking deeply in thought. Three seconds passed, then she finally muttered, "There has been some kind of interference. I think that there’s a chance that her soul has been destroyed or trapped."
It was only at this moment that the expression on the women’s faces cracked.
A soul being destroyed or trapped?
That meant that the soul had not returned to Death’s embrace, hence why the channeling failed.
It was one thing to take the life of another, but it was a whole different level of cruelty to destroy that soul, denying the victim of Death’s eternal rest.
The elderly woman who led the group shifted her gaze to the writing on the ground and her brows furrowed even deeper.
"Find the Killer."