The Horror and the Wild

VII. Vicious Cycles

November 29, Sunday

The past couple days since the Thanksgiving Dinner at Owen's church, Cillian had buried himself in books so he wouldn't have to think about all the things he knew he needed to. And that was how he came to be up late enough on a Sunday night to notice the flash of green light that streamed through his kitchen windows. Curious, he stood up and went to look out at the street below.

He was just in time to see a figure in a hooded cloak he recognised well turn away from a sigil to look up at his window. From that distance, hidden by the darkness, Cillian could see nothing about the stranger except the silvery gleam of eyes catching the light like an animal's. Then the stranger stepped out of the light and was engulfed in shadow, leaving only the sigil and a crime scene behind.

Cillian was struck by how quiet it had all been. He wouldn't have even known until the morning if he hadn't seen the flash of light by chance.

Reluctantly, he made his way downstairs, taking his tea with him. He wasn't sure he wanted to see the crime scene he knew was waiting for him, but he didn't feel he had much choice in the matter. He steeled himself and pushed open the main door, stepping out into the cold night air as he dialled Sebastian's number. There would be no turning back from this.

Sebastian picked up on the second ring. "Cillian Llewelyn MacDuff. It is the middle of the night. I love you, but what could you possibly want at this hour?"

"There's been another murder. Across the street from my apartment. Kitchen side."

He took a sip of his tea and checked for traffic, even though he knew it was basically nonexistent at that hour, before crossing the street and facing the bloody mess that had been left for him. The large black dog he'd seen in Boston Common eyed him warily before slinking away into the night.

He took in the desecrated corpses, feeling his stomach turn. These murders weren't just means to an end. Cillian knew all too well that only an all-consuming hate could cause something like the scene before him.

"Cil?" Sebastian's voice crackled over the phone line as Cillian felt something wet hit his cheek.

He put the phone back to his ear and looked up to check for rain.

"The trees are bleeding," Cillian heard himself whisper from somewhere far away.

It wasn't quite what he'd meant to say, but Sebastian seemed to understand the sentiment regardless.

"Christ. Cillian, I'll be right there."

The line went dead and Cillian stepped back from the weeping tree.

He moved on autopilot to punch Owen's number into his phone. He put the sleek box to his ear, the dark seeming to crush in on him the longer the dial tone rang.

"Cillian, it's nearly midnight," the priest complained groggily.

"There was another murder," Cillian said, his voice flat as paper. "Outside my apartment."