The High Priestess - The Darkest Desires Series

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cQueen hadn't slept for hours. He'd suddenly awoken in the middle of the night, a cold sweat pooling in his sheets. Shaking away the fears of years gone, he'd paced in his room where he still resided. It was simple, plain but clean. The Spindle and Thread was central to Rippling; too the left a quaint Café called Grannies, and to the right a bookshop that never seemed open. The rest of Rippling was a scattering of restaurants, shops, pubs and bars. Everything had a style however, as if anything modern wasn't allowed to be built within twenty miles of the central Market. Ancient, heavy stone-work or dark wood; no plastic or glass monstrosities here. Yet saying that, McQueen hadn't had much of a chance to explore.

Walking the nine feet from his room door to the window that overlooked the street below, but despite his best efforts McQueen's eyes were drawn to the flawlessly round pebble that sat on the table besides his bed. It was small, no bigger than a bottle cap, perfectly smooth and dove grey in colour. His fingers itched to touch it. To clench it in his fist. But he hadn't done that since he was a rowdy preteen. He didn't need that childish coping mechanism any more.

Unable to sedate the memories, McQueen grabbed a cold shower and took a brisk car ride to the Station. His mind pushed away what he didn't want to remember, and he intended to burry himself in paperwork, fact checking and making any headway he could with this case.

McQueen typed in 'Cardinal House'. It was the biggest house in the town and held the most land. It seemed far enough away, but as the locals had expanded, the town had simply grown around it. There would be records of it: bank statements, land ownership, employment history if they run it as a business. And yet, when McQueen hit search, all that popped up were old newspapers; clippings taken from Seventeen-seventy-seven.

The House, back then known as Heartly Manor, belonged to the very long line of Eastaughffe, which McQueen didn't even try to pronounce out loud and had held the house in their name for generations. The newspaper was very much a fluff piece, back when the newspapers could be bought with wealth and money, while the truth was left for the gutter. It went on about the prestige of the family, the reputation of their stature and good nature to the local community. It then briefly stated news of the untimely deaths of the family, how; it didn't say, but they were all laid to rest in the family plot.

And that was it. McQueen couldn't believe it. Not name of business, no registry of tax or income for Cardinal House. It only stated, in a simple document that the house had changed hands and it took him three different historical data bases and even a phone call to confirm that the House now belonged to Archer Hellion. That was it. It didn't even say how the man had acquired the House, just that it was his.

Switching back to the search engine, he ran through his list. They had a long one. "Summer, Sydney." He muttered, typing quickly. An easy, background check was needed of everyone when involved in a murder of this brutality. McQueen hadn't started yesterday, the victims taking priority, but it was unlikely they were killed by someone random. No, someone local was much more likely. "Sydney Elizabeth Summers, aged nineteen, born Summit Hospital, seven thirteen in the morning. An early bird," Scrolling through mostly useless information, McQueen focused on more recent entries "Address: sub-basement room, Genève Cottage... the same address as her parents, how sweet. Employment status; beverage attendant, location- unknown..." That made McQueen pause. Hitting print, he made a note on the paper, slipping it into a new folder. Unknown wasn't a status you came across often on the data-base.