RAVEN

CHAPTER 9

Moonlit Affairs

   
              Friday night, five minutes past twelve. In the suburbs of Amberwick Duchy, Ingrid's Tavern. The loud clamor of liquor-induced conversations and clinking beers were carried by the evening wind into the back alley; yet the atmosphere remained quiet with an extra layer of eeriness.

              A woman in a dark-green trench coat shuttled back and forth between narrow walls. She looked up to see a faded black sign barring entry, before ducking her head to enter an abandoned three-storey building not far off from the bar.

              Along a dilapidated corridor, the brownish red rust mixed with mottled paint looked like splashes of dried blood on the walls. Everything appeared gloomy and silent as the moonlight penetrated through the window. She stopped by room 0105, raised her left hand and knocked five times, starting with one hard knock followed by a long pause in between.

             Swiftly, the small wooden board pulled open, and an eye appeared behind it. It examined the visitor from head to toe before a gruff voice was heard.

             "Madam Tilbury, we have been expecting you."

              Two or three seconds later, the door creaked open and a faint yellow light flowed out. The woman pulled down her hood, revealing a much younger face not unlike Ophelia's, and a tiny mole near the tip of her nose. Madison pursed her lips upon seeing the dusty office room she was led into by a two-meter tall attendant.

              "Mr. Dion! I demand an explanation!" She said in a shrill, irritated voice, addressing the hunchbacked man who was in the midst of popping off the cork of a wine bottle. A caramel tail waved teasingly as a weasel scampered across the wooden desk to climb around his forearm.

              "O for the love of wisdom's grace, Lady Tilbury. Have I not told you to keep your voice down? I'm running a business here, not a marketplace." Mr. Dion was hatchet-faced with dark circles beneath his eyes, but his manner of speech was breathy, like a faint whistle.

               "Then explain to me the meaning of this!" Madison slammed down the brown envelope she kept hidden underneath her coat.

              "Woman, what can't you understand? The money isn't worth the price of my life. Your older sister is the wife of Duke Bloodvich! He'll have my head should he find out what I've done."

               "You promised me that you'd take care of it."

               "And I said that I promised to take care of it; if it was within the limits of my connections." Mr. Dion raised his wine glass. "What you're asking me is way beyond what I'm capable of."

               A hint of a scoff erupted from Madison's lips. "Then you're useless. What's the point of paying you a hundred and twenty pound notes if you can't do it?" She clucked her tongue softly. "Whatever, this is a waste of time. Return my money by tomorrow morning—you know who to give it to."

              She promptly turned around, and headed to the door.

             "H-Hold on, I'm not done yet. Although, I can't investigate for you, Lady Tilbury. There is another way..."

              Madison paused, her hand hovering over the door knob.

              "Say it."