The Crime in Callahan's Morrow - being rewritten

Chapter 12: Ice sculptures

"I once knew a shadow-demon who was so much involved into her magic that it consumed her. She became a shadow. Quite a disturbing fate."

Daizee Allesium, the First Sergeant of the Battle Witch Forces

XII.

Unlike the clubbing parts of the establishment, this space was lighted up brightly, making Adrian's eyes water somewhat because of the stark contrast to half-shadows his photoreceptors had experienced up until now. It was also quiet. Only a slight tap of footgear was heard – mostly Nicole's, although Tucker was playing human again, so his too – as they walked in after Feargus' graceful, yet slow and silent gait.

As it was, he and Giuseppe had abandoned all the pretense of benignity, not even a sound was coming from their concealed presence. When one dealt with a bigger monster, they should make themselves as monstrous as they could be. Adrian knew Dariuss might just fall under that definition, no matter the lack of evidence about it.

The sight of weapons displayed in various glass containers, racks and mounts wouldn't be as strange as to garner raised eyebrows from anyone, much less Giuseppe. But seeing a bunch of long, bronze needles, silvery-metal hand fans, some kind of– yes, those were spatulas, Adrian's eyes were not deceiving him – then a sword that swirled into itself; well, that assembly of odd instruments managed to unmistakably scream eccentric even to the other vampire. Hell, Adrian couldn't recognize half of the collection and he was well versed in cold weaponry. As if fixation with anything blue wasn't enough.

If Dariuss' face wasn't as uninterested as one's face could get, he would think the fey was getting his kicks from observing their particular reactions. Adrian could hear Nicole gasping every other second as their party was taking in the decor.

This seemed to be a private residence inside the club, Adrian inferred from everything he saw. Bar the odd exhibition of weapons, judging by the seating arrangement, a mini-bar, a fridge, a fancy rug, and a sea of the color blue, it was obviously furnished for comfort. There were other doors in the room, one probably leading to sleeping quarters and at least one being another entrance/exit.

Dariuss sat on one of the grey bar-stools, one hand holding a glass of something Adrian's nose couldn't recognize, the other one folded near his body in a prim and proper way, and now in the light Adrian could see the full-length, fitting robe the fey wore was more elegant than he'd originally thought.

Next time he saw blue he was going to barf. Honestly. This really was too much—

Dariuss sprung up to his feet, pale blue-gray robes swishing around his figure making shadows dance around the room and long, loose sleeves flaring around his arms, his icy and sharp eyes flickering over, assessing and examining each of the investigators.

The dramatic edge of his conduct wasn't as unexpected. Adrian had met a few royal fey, some during his travels and some as an accomplished investigator, but all of them had been drama queens and the malicious sincerity dripping from their words just confirmed that rumors could hold a grain of truth in them. And those rumors said that fey couldn't outright lie without the backlash of their powers, and opted for half-truths, misdirection, and manipulation with words. As one of his old teachers had once put it - it made them harder to figure out than pathological liars.

His attention flickered to Feargus, who was ignoring the rigidly rising tension as he sauntered to the mini-bar, then shuffled through the contents grumbling about bad drinks under his breath, and then finally grabbed one of the bottles to pour a glass. The half-fey turned, scowling at them after taking a sip and then dragged himself to one of the stools, sighing and pulling fingers through his hair. It seemed like he didn't want to do this anymore than they did.