The Horror and the Wild

III. Two is a Question

November 15, Sunday

Cillian felt as though he had been leafing through dusty, old books and finding nothing useful for a lifetime. Though, it had really only been about a week. The only thing to break up the monotony was that priest who managed to make being annoying somehow endearing. Though, that could've easily just been Cillian's soft spot for his resemblance to someone else. Cillian sneezed after shutting a particularly dusty volume and took a sip of his tea, but spit it back in the cup when he found it had gone cold. He was in the process of reheating it when his phone buzzed with an incoming call.

Checking the screen, he saw that it was Sebastian and answered.

"Who are you an' how did you get this number?" he said playfully as he propped the phone between his shoulder and his ear so he'd have his hands free to fetch his tea from the microwave.

"Hello to you, too, Cillian," Sebastian said dryly. "How has your weekend been?"

"Ais only went back tae Cambridge 'bout an hour ago. So not bad."

Sebastian sighed. "Hate to ruin it, then. There's been another murder. Two bodies, this time. Even worse than the first. I thought I'd give you a call to come check it out since we're wrapping up our end."

"Jesus fuck," Cillian muttered, pouring his tea into a thermos. "Where are you? I'll collect the Preacher Man an' meet you."

"Lederman Park," Sebastian said. "Don't stress yourself out too much. I'll wait."

"Thanks," Cillian said. "See you in a few."

He hung up so he could lace his boots without having to juggle the phone. Then he grabbed his jacket, tucking the thermos into one of the inside pockets, and both motorcycle helmets. He didn't love the idea of wandering into a church to try and find a priest he barely knew, but calling and making the guy walk for half an hour seemed a little rude. It would be one thing if the crime scene was on Owen's side of town, but Lederman Park was a bit out of his way.

He went outside and turned his bike on to warm it up and lit a cigarette while he waited. The possibilities swirled back and forth through his mind.

Two bodies.

Did that mean they would increase exponentially or sequentially? Was one week between murders going to be the standard? He hated not having any real information to work off of. Murder mysteries were fun until a person found themselves in one.

Sighing, he dropped the cigarette, using the toe of his boot to put it out before picking up the filter and putting it in a pocket to throw out later. He swung a leg over the bike and pulled on his gloves. Then he tugged on his helmet and put the mirrored visor down.