Confession

Keera had been reading in the front room for almost half an hour while Liddy and Celia were in the back with Kole, but she hadn’t absorbed a word.  She had too much on her mind.  Keera looked up as Tibias and the others entered the fortune teller’s shop.  She briskly closed the book and stood up.

Hello, Ms. Trean,” Tibias said in greeting.  “I assume that Mr. Tarrent is in the back.”  He started to move towards the back room, but the angel stopped him before he had taken more than a few steps.

“We need to talk,” she said quietly.  She met his eyes for a moment, before she grabbed his wrist and led him back towards the door.

“Careful, Keera,” Royal warned.  “Tibs got pretty beat up fighting Mammon.  Don’t get too aggressive during your little ‘talk’.”  The elf made air quotes as he said the last word and started to snicker.

“Stuff it, Royal,” she replied as she pushed him out of the doorway, more gently than she would have liked.  She released Tibias’ wrist as soon as he was outside; the door swung closed behind them.  Keera moved a few feet down the street before she stopped under a streetlight.

“What is it, Ms. Trean?”  He walked towards her into the pool of yellow light.  He grabbed her shoulders gently and turned her to face him.  His brow crinkled in concern.  “Are you all right?”

“I’m fine.”  Keera paused for a moment dropping her gaze.  “The after effects aren’t nearly as bad for supernatural creatures as they are for humans.”  Tibias dropped his hands from her shoulders.  She didn’t dare to look him in the face, which she was sure was marked with disappointment.  The ensuing silence was tense and uncomfortable.  The angel knew what she needed to say, but she wasn’t sure how to say it.

“Tibias,” Keera finally began, glancing hesitantly up at him.  “I think that the assassin was sent by Deus Ignegena.”

“I always knew you were clever, Ms. Trean,” he replied with a small, sad smile.  “I’d come to the same conclusion.  Sadly, we know nothing about it.  All we have is a name, a book, and a corpse.  For all we know, it could be a tea manufacturer.”

“It’s a cult,” the young woman whispered, “a demon worshiping cult.”  The older man paused for a moment, too stunned to speak.

“How on earth do you know that?”  he asked, incredulously.  He could hardly believe that she had discovered the answer where he had failed, but he knew that the red head wouldn’t lie to him, especially not about something so serious.  Keera closed her green eyes as she looked away from him.

“Please,” she begged.  “Don’t ask me that.”  Sharpe gently cupped her chin in his hand, raising her head to look her in the eyes.

“Ms. Trean,” he began softly.  Shaking her head, she pulled away from him and turned her back.

“Sometimes, I wonder if that’s all I’ll ever be to you.”  Her wings ruffled agitatedly as she spoke.  Keera stopped to wipe away a few tears that were slipping down her face.  “I got the information off of a substance dealer in North Adams.”  Everything slowly slipped into place.  It was no wonder the angel knew so much about demon blood; she must have used it herself once, on a fairly regular basis.  “Deus Ignegena is the source of a lot of powerful demon blood that’s been hitting the market.  I also got a name: Mortimer Slater.”

Deduction

                Tibias waited a while before picking up the phone. He disliked immediately answering the phone, he preferred to make the person on the other end wait a bit. He took a sip of his tea, taking small comfort in the pleasure that since his partner was bedridden he could enjoy what little pleasure he had left in his life. On the fourth ring, he picked the phone up.

                “Hello, Council representative Tibias Sharpe speaking.”  He stated in a monotone manner.

                “Tibias, it’s Keera.” He heard from the other line. She sounded a bit confused. “We just almost got attacked. A mortal was just at the door attempting to perform a poorly executed assassination. When I tried to apprehend him, he took off and fled with the help of demon blood. “

                “What?” Tibias asked incredulously.

                “I think someone was trying to kill Kole.” Keera said. “I’m worried that the man might try to come back, only this time better prepared. At the very least, we should move Kole to another place where he might not know where he is. I contacted Celia and she said that he can stay in her shop for now. ”

                “I will be right over. Have you already left?” He asked 

                "No. We were preparing to make the trip now."

                 “I'll meet you there." Tibias said. "Call me on my cell phone if anything else happens.”

                “Keera murmured her assent before Tibias hung up the phone. He rushed over to grab his jacket and cane. After receiving plenty of bruises and scratches in the recent fight, Tibias was glad that he could use the cane again without anyone asking any questions.  Even though Liddy managed to heal up his broken ribs and fingers, he still ached all over. While fetching his things, he thought about what Keera just told him. Why would an assassin turn up now to take Mr. Tarrant out? He pondered. Let us think about these things calmly for a second Tibias. Well, the assassin was a human, which means that whoever sent him was confident that a mortal could kill Kole. Yet, if the assassin was that powerful, then why did he flee when Keera tried to take him. Certainly someone powerful enough to take down Mr. Tarrant could take her down as well, or at least not need the help of demon blood to flee from her.

                After Tibias got his things together, his next task was to round up Mr. Holligan and Ms. Faroth. They were in the kitchen at the end of the hallway engaged in a subdued conversation,  both holding mugs of hot chocolate. This was a first for Tibias; Royal had never been calm and quiet, and Carahya seemed to never shut up. Tibias didn’t have time to figure out why they were unusually peaceful. “We need to head on out” Tibias told the two. “Something just came up.”

                “Is everything okay?”  Royal asked.

                “For now it is.” Tibias replied. “Now finish up your mugs and let us be on our way. “ Tibias let the two finish their cocoa as he moved back to place a closed sign over the office door and lock up. If that mortal  fled from Keera, yet expected to be able to handle Kole, then he must have expected Kole to be easier to defeat than her. The only reason the assassin would have to expect that was because he knew Kole was injured. So therefore, someone must have known that. Tibias shuddered. Now, the only question then is who would have known that? Only the Council knows about Kole's injuries. A name came to Tibias’s mind. Deus Ignegena. Whatever that was, Tibias could assume that it was somehow behind this recent attempt. It was responsible for the distribution of that book that summoned Mammon here, and no one had been able to extract anything from Cathburne while he was alive. Although Tibias knew this was a stretch, he could think of no other possible explanations as to who could be responsible for the assassination attempt. It was time that they finally get to the bottom of whatever Deus Ignegena was.

                Royal and Carahya caught up with him within a minute. “What’s going on Tibs?” Carahya asked.

                “There was a recent attempt on Mr. Tarrants life. Luckily it failed, but Keera was unable to catch the assassin. We are currently meeting Keera and Mr. Tarrant at Madam Gkika's shop.”

                Royals eyes widened. Carahya smirked a bit. “I guess Shadowass is awfully popular afterall.” She said.

                Tibias shook his head. “Mrs. Faroth, this is no time for jokes. Come along now, it will take us a good forty-five minutes  to get there with the current rush hour traffic. And no gimmicks while in the car. I am still aching from the fight and if I have to deal with either of your shenanigans, I will be forced to beat you both repeatedly with my cane at the end of drive.”

                Royal chuckled a bit. “Glad to know that you still have enough energy to beat us. But don’t worry Tibs, I know when to behave.”

                “You better.” Tibias growled.

Burgundy Man Meets the Woman in Red

                The man in the burgundy suit slipped out of the apartment complex and into the crowded Boston street. He walked away at a brisk pace, emulating the flow of sidewalk traffic, all trying to get to some meeting or another. He found his way to the car he had parked a few blocks away, a silver 2005 Toyota Corolla. He pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose and put his keys into the ignition. The engine started with a low roar, and he began to drum his fingers nervously on the wheel as he drove away.

                “Shit…” he muttered. The car was silent, but for the rumble of the engine. The demon blood was still surging through him. They’d have thought he was long gone by now, run off on foot with the extra strength and speed that the substance had given him. Now, he was just jittery…jittery and pissed. With a grumble, he drove into the suburbs of the city, eventually stopping outside his residence.

                Obviously, his assassination attempt had more than failed. Now the Reaper’s angelic underling was completely aware that something was amiss in Boston. Even if he could pass it all off as a simple assassination attempt from a Mundane human, it was plain that Mammon was not the only threat to Kole and the Council. Assassins were assassins. This was supposed to be his moment, his redemption. Now, it had all gone horribly wrong. As soon as he had heard that the Reaper was weak, his plan was set in motion. He knew for certain that he’d never be able to take on the Reaper at full power, not even with the dark Shadowrend blade he had stolen from his superior specifically to do the job. After seeing the ad for a vacancy in the newspaper, he thought he would have a solid alibi. Now Kole would be back on his feet soon enough, and he’d just lost his window of opportunity. He thought that he’d imagined every possible scenario, from the Reaper being up and moving to him not even being strong enough to get up from his bed. Clearly, he’d been wrong. In the face of an unplanned option, he’d panicked. His words had become stammered, and his actions were risky.

                “I could have just said, ‘Oh, no, I’ll not bother him at work,’ or something like that. I mean, really.  Stupid… God, Damian, you just spoiled everything. The plan is ruined. You are ruined.”

He had wanted this operation to be secret; if for some reason the rest of his fellows were questioned about it, they’d have plausible deniability. He was prepared in case he had to die for the cause of the assassination. He was in possession of a suicide pill – a small, thin-walled glass capsule filled with concentrated potassium cyanide and covered with a protective layer of rubber. It sat idly in the compartment of a ring on his right index finger, easy to access if need be.

He stopped in his driveway and parked and locked his car before heading inside. He dropped his keys in the ceramic bowl by the door and sighed, grumbling to himself. The demon blood was slowly wearing off, and he could feel himself being completely drained.

“What a waste…” He slumped into his favorite easy chair to rest. He closed his eyes, and did not hear the gentle footsteps behind him.

“Funny, that’s just what I was going to say, Damian.”

He whirled around in his chair with what little strength he still had and nearly screamed in surprise. Standing casually behind him, silk-gloved arms resting on the chair back, was a stunning woman in a red cloak, hood pulled up to conceal her face. Despite this fact, Damian knew from the red cloak and the sound of her voice exactly who she was.

“Forgive me…to what do I owe this special visit, mistress?” Damian stuttered, not knowing whether to be pleased or terrified.

“I think you know why I am here, Damian. What you have done today was valiant, yes, but it was risky. It was careless. You remember what happened to Reggie, do you not?”

Damian thought back to what had occurred in the past few weeks. Reginald was killed by the woman before him for “making a careless mistake” and potentially leading the Council of Draelin straight to their operation. Heart thumping, his blood barely contained within his veins, Damian nodded. “I remember.”

“Good. Now, you know what happens when someone threatens our safety and secrecy, don’t you?” She walked slowly around the chair and put her hands on the arms, leaning over and trapping him. “We will not be discovered, Damian Moore, and will not let anyone jeopardize us.” Damian began to shake; slender though the woman in red was, she was strong and frightening, and Damian didn’t dare try anything foolish again, particularly while the after-effects of the demon blood were still present.

She glared, eyes shining through the shadow caused by her cloak. From the folds of her cloak she drew a small capsule. With one gloved hand, she grasped Damian’s throat and forced his mouth open, and with the other she took the capsule and crushed it against his molars. Damian had no choice but to swallow, shaking in fear. His death was upon him, he could see that.

“As brave and valiant as that attempt was, Damian Moore, you were careless. And now you’ve made the Council suspicious, yet again.” She watched him writhe as the poison took hold. His skin grew red, and his shaking only grew worse. “We only just got them off of our backs with Reggie’s blunder, and here you are, arousing suspicion again. It was a careless mistake, Damian, and Deus Ignegena cannot tolerate careless mistakes.”

Unable to move out of weakness, Damian sat helpless, shaking in his chair as the potassium cyanide stopped his body’s oxygen flow. The woman in red stepped casually away from the chair, carefully removing her gloves as she walked out the front door. She put them into a plastic bag and stowed them within the folds of her cloak. Nobody would find the traces of potassium cyanide on the glove, or the fingerprints from the inner glove fingers, as she would burn them in an alley with the hobos’ firewood. Nobody would assume anything but suicide; after finding the other capsule hidden within the ring, authorities would assume that he had killed himself. And with that, the only trace of the assassination attempt blinked out of existence.