The Carrion's Craft

Chapter 9

Bivan led us deeper into the home of the Hunters. Three pairs of feet walked in single file as we passed chambers of barracks, common areas and briefings. Random Hunters were clad in the same green uniforms as the Red Cap. Every now and then, one of them would greet Drenin. Either with a smile, a nod, or a pat on the shoulder. Strangely enough, none of them really questioned him, nor treated him with animosity. Even some of the hunters inside of the nearby rooms peered their heads around the door, waving at the Bogeyman.

He nodded back, his head cast down. Whether it was shame or embarrassment, I wasn't sure. Nor did I care to know truth be told. Instead my gaze caught a large pin board behind the hunters inside a briefing room. Images of locations and dead bodies scattered along the board. Some of them were familiar to me, a signpost of Carnival Road, and eyeless humans in bloody scenes. I could even make out Orly's apartment too. 

They were investigating the victims of the Soul Snatcher, and yet there was more to it - a glance, it was all I could gleam, but my eyes followed a thin red line of string, travelling to a different type of death, a gentrified passing befitting of our city. Two cadavers rested on the flat metal gurneys of the morgue. Their faces were as pale as the same vampire they had served in the campaign. Hiro and Fergus, politicians of the Far-Seers Party.

I couldn't see anything else, the distant photographs were plucked from my view as the Hunters said their goodbyes and closed the door shut behind them, leaving me with little choice but to file the information away in my cluttered mind, and continue to allow the Red Cap to whisk us further away. Eventually we came across a door. A sign read "Interview Room 1" on it. "Here you are, good luck in there, buddy." The goblinoid said to my partner, giving him a wink before stalking back down the corridor.

We entered. It was a small, dingy room with crumbling plastered walls. Three chairs sat in the centre, a small table separated two inquisitors dressed in black and the restrained politician. All eyes turned to us. One of the inquisitors, a Boggart, smiled up at us, a bellowing chuckle tumbled out of his crooked mouth as he got up and embraced Drenin. When they parted, a grey, clammy imprint was left on his brown jacket, leaving him to shoot me a look of disgust. It was similar to the look of the other inquisitor, a second Bogeyman, much slimmer, with navy blue eyes and claws the size of swords. 

The Bogeymen, they were a peculiar bunch, like those humans, they're diverse, coming in different shapes and colours. For instance, Drenin more-or-less resembled a beetle, big and bulky, whereas this man was more akin to a millipede; long and spindly with a number of arms stemming from his suit. "The hell is this?" The unnamed man demanded, stomping to his feet.  

"Oh, put a sock in it, Benny, Dren's a friend here." The Boggart said, his owl-shaped eyes narrowed as he turned towards me. The hairs on the back of my neck stood on their ends, making me squirm and tingle as he looked me up and down with a toothy grin. "Ah, Drenin, might you introduce us to your charming young friend?" Despite his short and stooped stature, I felt small and vulnerable, like prey under his predatory countenance.

Clearing his throat, my partner, introduced me to the eerie inquisitor, Gangerren and his partner Bennedrik. A hum emitted from the older man, "Your parents chose a fitting name - dashing." I felt the very nerves in my face contract in repulsion as the slimy man ran a bony hand through his thin wisps of hair.

"We're hear to talk to Stragard about a missing person." I said, levelling a steely glare.

"Impossible, Mrs Stragard is a key witness in an ongoing inves -"

"Certainly!" The Boggart's sharp voice cut the Bogeyman off before he could finish his sentence. "We can give you five minutes". Gangerren said, opening the door for his partner.