The Carrion's Craft

Chapter 6

Daylight passed into night without further issue, well aside from the occasional bang of the window pane from the bird haunting me. At some point it stopped, and I was able to rest on the fold - out bed in the office. Darkness met me beneath my eyelids whilst Gorby busied himself with some monotonous work in the other room, puzzles or something. Such is how life had progressed for the past year. 

Speaking of life, where the hell was Drenin? The time was like a formless void at night, one that could only be pierced by the clanging of church bells. Eleven chimes rung out a while ago and yet the Bogeyman was yet to return. It was starting to unnerve me, keeping me from embracing the inner peace of sleep. My mind was always too active.

It was this reason that kept me grounded to reality, locked to the springy mattress in the cramped apartment. An apartment that was only growing more constrictive with the passing of time. I had to move, the blanket around me felt like a cage. It burned, like fire ants marching over my body. Discomfort gnawed at me, I don't know what it was but something kept me from a peaceful sleep - overheating, cold sweats, nightmares, or insomnia. There was no such thing as a good night's rest.

My throat was dry and scratchy. An unbearable thirst demanded satiating. With a stretch, I clambered to my feet and started to cross the room. My feet padded against the floor seamlessly as my eyes adjusted to the darkness. Ahead of me, the warm glow of Gorby's lamp protruded from the bottom of the kitchen door, standing guard against the darkness without. 

Passing the desk I felt a cool breeze blow through my hair, a draft that cut through me and fizzle my initial high temperature away. It caused me to stop, I was certain the window had shut before I retired for the night. Marching over, I lifted the blinds to peek at the window. A curse breathed out of my lips as I traced an empty circle in the window, a portal leading to the abyssal city ablaze with neon.

We had been broken in! I shouted out, calling for Gorby and Drenin as I turned away from the vandalised property. Preparing to rush towards the door, my reawakened eyes caught a glimpse of something - a movement, as if a part of a picture had shifted with its own conscience. As was my role, I investigated. Crouching low, a violent growl emanated from the cavity under the desk. It was angry, threatened.

"Come out of there." my voice barked as I reached out to this intruder. As soon as I moved however, two white hot circles glowered at me from the void. The low growl turned into a shriek, blades swiped over my knuckles and seared my flesh, and before I knew it a small weight had latched onto me, sending me into a panic whilst my body stung from the impact.

I tried to flee, to peel away this furry attacker as it stuck its claws into me. Light began to flood the room, something rustled beyond the glowing cone and Gorby's muffled gasps elevated the chaos. Something dark charged through the empty space, passing me and knocking Gorby to the ground. "My bagel!" Gorby cried out with a sputtered cough.

Looking down, I identified that damned cat from before attempting to chew its way through my pyjama shirt. As I sat there, wrestling with this creature I decided that my conversion to a dog lover was pending. Was I really going to have to slap a cat? I could hear Gorby struggling behind me. Another voice was calling out, it was indistinguishable and hollow, as if it were a distance away. Gratefully, the answer to my cat dilemma would be solved. The front door swung open and the office lights flicked on. Swiftly emerging from around the door was the man of the hour, Drenin, his clothes were soaked through and an enraged look infected his eye.

With a roar, the Bogeyman broke us up, slamming the door shut as the far-off voice called out, peaking the cat's interest. It calmed down, and after prying its claws out of me, it pranced off of me in a jolly manner. "Gorby, come to us" Drenin ordered while I got to my feet, nursing the stinging claw marks on my chest. A hundred questions flew in my head. But the most pressing stood before us, the cat standing guard as a rather small individual clad in black rags and a white mask, reminiscent to the old plague doctor's garb from the dark ages, stood in the kitchen.