The Carrion's Craft

Chapter 11

Drifting through the void, the world began to come back to me with an easy motion. There was a scent of citrusy lemon reeking the atmosphere. It dragged me back to reality, like coming down from the weightlessness of sleep and into the searing embrace of a viscous headache. Instead of crawling out of bed at my own volition, I found that my body refused to listen to my dreary commands. "Ma'am, he's waking." A voice echoed somewhere nearby. It was then that I found the strength to open my eyes.

I was no longer in Margaret's Square. No, this was somewhere completely different. I found myself restrained to a small chair, my wrists burned against the frayed surface of rope whilst my knees jutted out at an uncomfortable angle. It was an office, bare, with rotten floorboards struggling and croaking beneath my weight. Some of them were even missing, leaving sizeable holes leading to the aether. A wide floor-to-ceiling window dominated the wall before me. It's dusty glass was almost impossible to peer through from where I sat, especially with a large desk adorned with candles situating itself in the way. "So he is. Wait outside". The smoky voice of a woman said from beyond the candle light.

By her orders, a door shrieked on it's hinges. Footsteps trotted passed, just out of sight. Was this what happened to Simon? "So, your name is Fethis Iriuin. The same one the boy threatened us with?" The voice muttered. I demanded to know where he was? A brief bout of fear flared up inside me. Was he even alive? A high standing chair scraped against the floor, allowing me to pinpoint the owner of the voice.

She was a human, short black hair hung over her eyes. Her pale face scrunched up into a constant scowl, with a crooked mouth and flaring nostrils, it was as if she were disgusted by everything around her. "It would appear that the young lad thought he was more capable than he thought." She said.

"What did you to him?" I demanded, the very muscles quaked beneath my restraints.

"Same thing we did to you. Brought you here for a chat, you see. If you want to see him again, then you'd best behave." Her voice remained level as she slunk along the shadows.

I tried to let the words sink in, but my mind wouldn't slow, "How do you know my name?"

"Because," A new light flared in sparks as she struck a match and lit a pipe, "I took your wallet. You don't keep much cash - smart. But you do keep a few interesting effects." At the sound of her voice through my aching ears, I felt my heart drop into the pit of my stomach, like a penny falling endlessly into the depths of a cavern. I had information in there, my business card, address, a photo of Gorby, myself, and Drenin, and even -

Before I could blink, the woman produced a photograph of a family sitting around a dinner table. A man with a thick moustache sat at the head, front and centre, with a stern look in his eye. A woman sat to his left, there was a small smile on her lips. She was the only one who could melt away the cold exterior of her husband. Three sons accompanied them, all unsmiling, with the eldest kept close to the patriarch, and the youngest still attached to his mother's lap. Each of them had blue skin and white hair, traits which solely belonged to the Wisps. "Your family, I presume?" The woman said before taking a long drag on her pipe.

"What do you want?" I demanded, my wrists tugged at the ropes, trying to escape. She was right, that was my family. My younger self stared directly at me, or more accurately, the camera. I had been so fascinated by the machine that it was perhaps my only motivator in joining the Gazette. Was this the kind of treatment Drenin had to go through, kidnappings and unspoken threats?

At the sound of my shaky voice, the human withdrew by an inch, her eyes regarded me with an unreadable emotion. "What business do you have meddling with my operations?" She said, the scent of dead herbs wafted from her breath causing me to grimace.