[IC] Ianus Congreatio: Secret societies, horror, and mystery in the shadows of Prague.

[ConteAmarula]

Optional Reading

Lucie McClellen and Lucie Ruzicka in:
The Cedar Chest

Lillian McClellen stood as stark naked as the day she was born, but for a golden fox mask affixed to her face. A carefully placed arm covered her breasts, and a hand covered her womanhood; she felt very uncomfortable, very vulnerable, and very seen. Despite the fact that everyone in the room but her was currently in a pile on the ground, very dead, and not paying attention to anyone's nakedness.

A few weeks prior Lily was snooping around a neighbors house while they were away; She was under the suspicion that said neighbor possessed several stolen pieces of important art. She had in fact found the art, but also found a secret room with a demonic shrine hidden within. A large statue of a multi-horned bipedal bull with an unfamiliar symbol carved on its forehead took up most of the space. At the foot of the statue was a series of occult related items and accoutrement, and a tapestry on the floor depicting various demons fornicating with humans and then presenting them with gold or power served as a place to kneel and worship based on wear marks. Among the items in the hidden room was a small book detailing numerous practices and methods for paying tribute to various dark deities and even summoning them. Within the pages of the book she found a letter that served as invitation to a party hosted by a noble within the city that Lily was familiar with, and had had suspicions of for some time. The letter wasn't addressed to anyone specific, so naturally Lily went to the party and presented the invite as though it were her own. The gentleman at the door had been very suspicions; Lily was known around the city, as was her penitent for finding her way into private events. He asked a few questions that he must have assumed only certain people would know and received the appropriate answers; answers known to Lillian only because she made a point to read the book she had found at the shrine. The night started off rather normal and boring with a lot of rich people eating expensive food and chattering on about the woes of being rich. Lily did her best to fit in. At some point in the night the whole house was locked down, and the entire serving staff for the whole house left and, according to the host, would not be returning until the next morning.

Golden masks were passed out, and everyone was ushered into the ball room which had a large pile of pillows set up in the center, and a long table covered in cups filled with a dark red liquid was set up against one wall. It was around then that Lily had initially become a tad concerned as none of what she saw matched anything in the book she read. Her concerns were temporarily elevated when the host began speaking about pacts with demons, power, and how they were all mere hours away from becoming the most powerful humans on the planet. There was much cheering at that, with several of the guests yelling out thanks to various entities with difficult to pronounce names. Lillian was sure she heard the same named said four different ways.

The night took a turn however when the host pulled out a much larger version of the book Lily had read, and it was then that she realized she might not have known as much about the cult and it's practices as she had originally thought. A point that was proven immediately correct as everyone was directed to strip their clothes and begin fornicating on the pillows as part of preparation for a ritual. The quests were informed there were rooms at the back that had been built for those who wished to undress in some privacy, though few seemed to take the host up on the offer and began stripping right out in the open. Lillian had very much not been prepared for such a turn; she had mentally prepared for nonsense speech's, depictions of gore, perhaps even an animal sacrifice. But a full out orgy was well outside her comfort zone, so she immediately turned and ran towards the closest of the changing rooms, elbowing an older woman out of the way as she did so. The room was small, but had an oil lamp to provide light and a latch on the door to prevent others from entering.

Lillian sat on a velvet covered bench inside the room for several minutes contemplating her next course of action. She had gotten herself into quite the pickle and needed to react in a sensible way. Secret occult societies were not ones to let outsiders know about them and their practices, so running away held a lot of risks even if she got away; plus that plan relied on the house not being locked down. She could have simply stayed in the room and waited things out, hope none of them noticed her absence. But that meant staying in a small poorly lit room for god only knew how long, willingly cornering herself in the event things went south. And the final option, strip and get back out there. Which was as appealing as trying to fight a hive of bee's with one's face.

In the end she concluded she should leave the room, devoid of her clothing, and make an appearance. She wasn't comfortable participating but reasoned out the others would be too distracted to notice she was on the side lines. Decision wearily made she hung her pouches on a hook, which immediately broke causing all her personal effects clang loudly on the floor, and began to stip. As she started she could hear the beginnings of moaning, and the unmistakable sound of flesh slapping against flesh as the pre-ritual orgy got under way. The sounds made her second guess her decision and her undressing slowed to a crawl.

It took her several minutes to de-clothe, and she was so flustered and fixated on the process she failed to notice the sounds outside had stopped. Once she was naked, she spent several more minutes trying to decide if she should focus on covering her breasts or her womanhood, as she would need a hand to open the door, leaving one of those spots vulnerable to lascivious eyes. She eventually decided on covering her breasts as they were the most overt and noticeable part when unhidden. When she opened the door and stepped out her face burned red hot from embarrassment, a feeling that did not go away as she found the entire group of quests dead in various positions and stages of coitous. The heat in her face traveled down her neck as she noticed several pairs of lifeless eyes looking in her direction and she instantly moved her spare hand to cover the rest of herself. There she stood for a solid minute, unmoving, struggling to understand what it was that had had happened and trying to cope with the fact she felt very uncomfortable.

She eventually managed to snap back to reality enough to realize she needed to get dressed and get to the bottom of what had happened. She turned quickly, moving the hand from her breasts to cover her bottom and went back to the changing room. She tried to open the door, but found that it was thoroughly stuck.

"...oh heavens no..." she said aloud as she realized the latch on the door must have activated on it's own. She turned around, moving her hands to covering the correct spots, and looked around the room at all the clothing laying about. She desperately wanted to steal some so she could focus on what needed to be done, but every article of clothing had become evidence and were unusable. She came to the same conclusion as she looked at a table cloth and contemplated a toga. No, if she wanted cloths she either needed to get her hands on some tools to get the door open, or she had to find some clothing elsewhere in the house. The thought of walking around the house in the nude, even one that was empty, made the redness in her face and neck travel to her ears. She decided instead to search the house using her power, and began looking for a place to hide her body. The other changing rooms were an option, but she was once again worried about contaminating evidence, and additionally, she was worried the faulty latches would leave her trapped. It was quickly decided to stow her body in an ottoman tucked into the corner of the room that appeared to have an internal compartment. The ballroom was not all that large so she had to get rather close to the body pile to get where she needed, and it was very difficult dodging all the errant articles of clothing strewn about. At one point she almost fell and had to throw a hand out to keep her balance. She quickly returned the hand to where it was as soon as she was safe, but couldn't help lookin to see if any of the bodies might have seen her. Only one pair of eyes was on her, belonging to an elderly man who had died midway through pleasuring himself. Lillian just about passed out from embarrassment, but managed to pull herself together and accepted that a dead man had seen her bottom.

Once at the ottoman she found that it did indeed have an internal compartment, which was thankfully empty. Lillian stepped inside and curled up as small as she could to fit into the space, letting the lid close on it's own. It was not the most comfortable position, but she felt safer, and comfortable enough to search the house with her power. She activated her ability, and climbed out of her hiding spot. She took a brief moment to look down at her naked form and couldn't help but feel that she looked like a babe in the womb with the way she had tucked herself in. Something about the sight was both odd and comforting at the same time.

She closed the lid and turned to take in the room, double checking that she had not missed anything immediately important before she went hunting for untainted clothes. She quickly discovered however that she had in fact missed something important: counting herself and the host their were twenty people who were at the party, and yet there were only eighteen bodies in the pile. A quick check confirmed there wasn't a lost body hidden under the others. Someone was alive elsewhere in the house and might have very well been the killer.

The house was large, and it's room numerous. The missing corpse could be anywhere, and there wasn't time to search methodically. Instead, Lillian made the logical conclusion that if the missing person were still in the house the most likely place they would be, was the master bedroom.

It didn't take her long to get to her destination, her legs carrying her far and fast when they didn't need to obey physical laws so strictly. She quickly found the room and peered through the keyhole. Sure enough on the other side was, to her knowledge, the only other living person in the house. It was a man, and he was quite tall with rather plain pants but a brilliant indigo tail coat that was hard to miss. She had seen the man at the pre-cult activities fraternizing with the other quests; she had not had a chance to speak with him before.

It was very difficult to make out what he was up to, the keyhole providing a poor window. She watched for a moment, biding her time, until the man's back was turned, and carefully opened the door. Thankfully did not creek, or squeak, or five any other signs of operation allowing her to slip inside without too much issue, contorting her form so she didn't have to open the door too far. Unfortunately despite her efforts, and confidence she'd be quiet enough, the man turned almost immediately and rushed to the door. Lillian deftly leapt out of the way, landing on a wall sconce. The man flung open the door, peered out for a moment, then closed the door; taking a moment to test the handle. He had most likely assumed the door came open on it's own. A reasonable assumption in the face of the evidence; invisible women where, after all, not a likely occurrence.

The gentleman got back to what he had been doing, which was apparently robbing the place. He had a medium sized satchel, something large enough to carry a lot of valuables but not so large as to attract suspicion, and was filling it with various expensive items around the room. Lillian rushed over to the man and begin to take in his features. Like everyone else at the party he wore a simple gold mask -a homage to a bird of some sort- that covered the top half of his face. Up close it was clear his suit wasn't just well made, but very expensive, though that was hardly most noteworthy part of it: the entire suit from vest to pants, had been altered in rather strange ways. Certain places had been taken in, taken out, and had something added to the inner lining to make the area stiffer. To the unobservant onlooker everything would appear fine, but Lily could tell from the way the fabric moved, and interacted with the body, that the suit did not match the form of the wearer.

It seemed strange to disguise one's body in such a manner, so Lillian quickly applied her detail oriented eye to the rest of the man. It did not take long for her to discover, to her great surprise, the man was in fact a woman in disguise. The first obvious clue was the rather obvious lack of and Adam's Apple. However there were other details as well, on close inspection many of the facial features that could be seen had been expertly falsified with makeup. The work was so impressive Lily briefly wondered if it was worth learning some tips from her mother if only to test the lengths of how much one could do with simple face paints.

The other give away were the eyes, as bit difficult to see through the mask, but she could just make out the higher brow and more exaugurated archs that were traits typically found on women. Additionally, based on the woman's glabella and supercillary arches, were she not done up like a man she would most likely had been strikingly beautiful. The eyes especially, which were a rather gorgeous ember, would have made the woman look rather stunning. Only around five-percent of the entire worlds population possessed Ember eyes, so naturally Lily was quite enamored and lamented how, under better circumstances, she would have liked to have spent an afternoon with the woman.

There were various other clues as to the person's identity, at least gender wise. A more rounded mandible, a skull that was more vertical than wide, slimmer wrists than would be expected for someone who actually fit into the suit being worn; and there were several discrepancies in the measurements of the individuals cricoid girth and lateral neck length were they a man of similar height. Not that any of that helped Lilly with her current issue. What did help, was that there was a carefulness to how the woman was looting the room. Most people would have taken anything shinny that appeared expensive. The woman was picking things rather carefully, as if she had some innate sense as to what was more worth her time. She didn't have the air of someone who had all the time in the world to pick through their murder victims belongings, instead she had the appearance of someone making big decisions. Trying to maximize how much wealth they could pilfer without having to take things that would be hard to fence or carry. Lily was quite sure the woman was not the murderer, however she still needed to be stopped as she might have been stealing important clues.

Unsure of what to do but knowing something had to be done, Lily returned to her body. In an instant she was out of her hiding spot and running naked down the hall towards the master bedroom. Along the way she stopped for a moment to pull a saber out of a scabbard that was hung up on display. As she approached the door she slowed so as to not alert the woman on the other side and carefully approached, sword at the ready, and woefully underdressed for a possible life or death encounter. She moved to place her hand on the door, but felt a subtle shift in the wood beneath her feet. Someone, was on the other side of the door.

Perhaps she should have slowed her run sooner, perhaps she wasn't as stealthy as she thought. Regardless of what specific failure lead to her reveal was unimportant, she had a potentially dangerous criminal on the other side of the door. Her grip on the sword tightened, she was unsure if she could kill another person even in self-defense. There were so many ways things could go, many of them bad. Part of her wondered if it was worth it, if she should just walk away, accept she might loose some clues. Lillian thought back to the woman who was tall enough to tower over most men, thought about how much skill and training and discipline goes into being as adept a criminal as the other woman clearly was. But she also thought of the woman's ember eyes, and the careful way she plucked certain items for her bag. Lillian decided to make a gamble.

"H-hello Ma'am. I mean sir. Did you kill all those people down stairs?" There was a long silence. Lillian expected the door to fling open at any moment and unleash a life or death struggle. Her arms shook, her grip on her weapon tightened so much she began to hurt her own hand. Then, quietly, a feminine voice came through the door.

"No." And Lilly believed her.

"Right...well, that's good. Now that that is out of the way, I am going to have to ask you to s-stop your acquisition of the hosts personal possessions, there might be a vital clue that could lead to the culprit of the murders hidden in them. "She paused a moment, thought back to the carful collection of items once more, and what she remembered of what was left in the room. "Except for the box of jewels on the credenza," she added "I am reasonably sure those won't be of importance to my case. " She wasn't actually entirely sure about that, but had enough reason to suspect the box was unimportant enough to offer it as a sort of bribe, or more accurately a sort of conciliatory prize. There were only so many jewels in the world that would warrant killing eighteen people over, and Lilly knew for a fact not one of them was in the Czech Republic at that time.

There was a long time of silence. Lilly stood still for almost 5 minutes, her hand going numb from squeezing the hilt of the sword so tight for so long. She waited for a response, waited for the floor beneath her to shift to indicate the other woman moved away from the door. Unable to stand it any longer Lillian threw open the door, sword at the ready, utterly terrified, and totally mortified all at once.

Inside she found a room devoid of mysterious women. The satchel of stolen items remained on the floor, and the box of jewels which Lily had offered up were gone. The only clue as to how the woman got away was that one of the windows in the room was every so slightly ajar, and the storm shutters - which should have been thoroughly closed from the lock down- were wide open and flapping in the wind.

Lillian let out a breath she had been holding, the breath turning into a sigh of relief. The sword in her hand clattered to the floor and an unpleasant prickling took its place as blood rushed back into the vein's and vessels. She dropped to her knees and leaned forward, one hand supporting her weight, the other covering herself. She allowed herself a few moments to simply breath.

[kapuchu]

Optional Reading

Lucie McClellen and Lucie Ruzicka in:
The Cedar Chest

An opportunity had presented itself.

It was the kind of opportunity that did not come often, and which one would be a fool not to make use of. It was also the kind of opportunity that Lucie Ruzicka did not know she had been searching for.

She looked down at the letter in her hand, reading the words over again. It was an invitation to a clandestine soiré of sorts, in which a sixteen year old girl such as herself had no place. That is, were she the daughter of a respectable, normal family, but any who knew her could say with certainty that Lucie was anything but ordinary, and her way of life anything but respectable.

She failed to suppress a smile, and turned her direction to the woman in front of her. “Thank you,” she said, twisting her voice into something it was not. “This is appreciated.” She let her eyes rove over the smaller woman. Though an adult, the top of her head barely made it to Lucie’s nose. An adult who could barely afford clean clothes. She held back a sigh and flicked a few coins free of her sleeve, pressing them into her hand—payment for a job well done.

The woman beamed, a week’s wages clasped between her fingers, and profusely thanked Lucie while reasserting her future loyalty. She turned and ran off, presumably home to hide the pocket change that Lucie had given her.

The letter in her hands drew Lucie’s attention again, as she read over the contents. Already there were ideas for entrance, exit, and half-formulated plans forming in her mind. She would have to secure a way out once inside, perhaps a gardener could be persuaded to leave a ladder by a window?

---

Lucie had returned to one of her current hideouts; a small apartment ostensibly owned by a young boy who’d ran from home. She sat on a stool in front of her vanity, puzzling over the best approach to her new goal. The host of this soiré she had discovered, was one rather wealthy individual, and one who her circles did not watch as closely as they perhaps should. Lightening his proverbial pockets, and starting a new secret stash of her own, would go a long way to help her in the future. She glanced at a picture on the vanity of Filip Beran, and immediately felt her mood drop. The sooner she could get away from that man, the better. She needed a lot of funds first, however, and the likes of the ones organising such an event, weren’t the type to be austere. She would not be surprised if she could get away with enough funds to buy a small house.

There was the matter of a disguise, though, and the in’s and out’s. She was fortunate enough that it was an anonymous invitation, the kind where you need only know the time and place to show up, so no one would look into whatever name she gave them. She looked at herself in the mirror, realising that perhaps going as herself was not the best option. She wanted to be attractive enough that no one would second guess her presence, and any suspicion of an unknown individual showing up would be alleviated, but not so much that they would come looking for her specifically once the festivities began.

“A boy, then?” she said to herself. She had decided almost as soon as the words left her lips. It would certainly make her height less conspicuous.

As for the escape route, she knew the mansion had an extensive garden, and a fair number of very tall bushes. That necessitated gardeners and ladders. She would approach one of them, pay them to leave a ladder near the master bedroom’s window before going home for the day. From there, slip out between guard rotations which she would have to learn—even if the invitation guaranteed no interference from the serving staff, they would still remain.

The entrance was easy enough, but slipping away from the gathering was another matter. The invitation alone provided very little details about the schedule of the event, so she would have to play that one by ear.

“As for tools,” she murmured and untied the knot around a roll of fabric, opening it on the vanity desk. She pulled out a number of small items such as lock picks, a sharpened and reinforced fruit knife, and a length of wire recently purchased from a craftsman of stringed instruments. “For locks, inconspicuous weapon, and last-resort if someone is too troublesome,” she said while pointing to each of the three main items. She would also need to bring a proper weapon just in case. Perhaps two. And a tube of lipstick of course. No woman, not even when disguised as a man, would go without one.

Satisfied with her preparations for the moment, she went about tidying up, while deciding what clothes to wear for the event. A visit to her tailor was definitely a necessity.

---

A young man stepped out of the carriage and calmly approached the double doors leading to the mansion. He wore a powder blue dress shirt under a cream coloured vest, and over that an indigo tail coat; as well as a pair of off-white loose pants and black shoes. His hair was long, to the point of being feminine, and held together by a simple ribbon as it fall down his back. A white tie tucked under the vest completed the ensemble that, while perhaps a few years out of fashion, was still a style held in high regard by the wearer.

He adjusted the padding of his shirt and vest as he walked, making sure that the very feminine figure underneath did not show. He was, in fact, a she. Lucie Ruzicka had used almost every trick in her book, to turn herself into a young man by the name of Tuomas; a recent immigrant from Finland, but deeply enamoured by the works of the lord of the mansion he was currently visiting.

“Good evening,” Lucie said to the manservant guarding the door, deepening her voice and twisting it enough to sound like a boyish young man. She handed him the folded piece of paper that was the invitation, offering a genuine smile as his eyes flicked between her face and the invitation.

“Your name, please?”

“Tuomas,” Lucie replied.

The manservant nodded. “Everything seems to be in order,” he said. “Welcome Master Tuomas. Enjoy the festivities.”

The room beyond was a grand foyer, designed to impress and awe those who entered. Expensive artworks lined the walls, busts of important historical figures, interspersed with those depicting the members of the house, were evenly distributed along the halls, and flanking each of the doors.

Up ahead were a grand set of stairs leading to a second floor where she knew the event was to take place. She directed her mind towards the house as a whole as she walked—absentmindedly leaving her jacket with a servant—and queried about the master bedroom and personal office. Each step she took towards the stairs coincided with an image flashing in her mind, and before long she had the precise locations of each room.

She let an easy, comfortable smile spread across her lips as she let a servant lead her to where the other guests were assembling. By the looks of it, none were even close to her age, and most looked easily twice that, maybe three times. Still, she didn’t let that dampen her mood. She was here for valuables, not company after all. Even still, it made her happy to have made the decision of dressing as a man. When compared to the other women—with some exceptions, particularly the fiery haired one who looked both bored and perpetually annoyed—she knew she would have garnered far too much attention.

A woman some three or four times her age, wearing enough jewellery to rattle as she walked, approached Lucie, holding a pair of spectacles in front of her eyes and smiled brightly. “Welcome, welcome!” She said enthusiastically. “I am Mrs Severa, and you must be…” She let the sentence hang in the air, waiting for an answer.

“Tuomas,” Lucie replied. Even with the half foot difference in height, Lucie could smell the smoke and alcohol on her breath, which told her that this soiré was to be as ostentatious and decadent as the decor of the foyer. She immediately decided that this woman would be a good companion for the night, if only because her weak eyesight would keep her from seeing through the disguise. She offered an arm to the older lady, and laughed politely at some tired old joke. “Shall we?” she asked and gestured towards the tables stacked with small, expensive foods and drinks.

“Of course!” Mrs Severa said, and excitedly took the offered arm. “Have you seen the gallery here?” She asked, to which Lucie had to admit that she had not. “Oh you should! The collection is marvellous, containing pieces from every corner of the world! Although, and let this be between the two of us, he does sport a few paintings of… questionable quality.” She snorted, and sipped heavily from a glass of champagne she had plucked from the table. “There was this painter, he lives in Paris now as I understand, whom he is terribly impressed by. He owns a painting of his, some Van Gogh I think he called him? Truth be told, I do not quite comprehend this infatuation, his paintings are not anything I have not seen before.”

Lucie let her talk. She knew this kind of woman; the kind who would latch unto younger men, fawn over them and shower them in attention. When your husband was no longer as interesting as he was twenty years ago, and his interest in you lessened in favour of work, brandy, and cigars, there were often young men in search of connections, and who would live with the indignity of drunk, old women on their arm.

She entertained the woman for a time, pretended to listen intently to her stories, asking questions, and laughing at jokes twenty years out of fashion when she wasn’t trading flirtatious touches. However, the evening’s main event approached with every tick of the clock, and soon enough an announcement was made that they were to gather in the ballroom.

A man by the door had a collection of golden masks, asking each guest to choose one. Lucie glanced over the collection and quickly zeroed in on one. A half-mask in the shape of a hawk, its beak curving over her nose, and feathers flaring out on either side in a mimicry of wings. If nothing else, her own eyes would match well with the bird’s own.

The room was mostly bare, save for a single table upon which stood a score of goblets, one for each of the guests, and in the centre of the room a pile of pillows of various shapes and sizes.

The final guests entered, and the doors locked. Lucie stepped to the back of the group that gathered around the host, her eyes scanning the room. The servants had left and—she turned her Talent and thoughts towards the room—locked the doors it seemed. The intent truly was to let the carnal event happen behind these doors, in this pile of cushions and pillows. Vulgar, but an effective distraction. It certainly would keep everyone preoccupied while she removed the host’s unnecessary valuables from his personal rooms.

She turned her talent to the room again, and quickly found one of a few hidden servant entrances. While everyone else was occupied by the mention of demons, rituals, power, and other such nonsense that only lesser people could come up with, she extracted herself from the group and snuck through one of the pathways, shutting it with a nigh inaudible click.

She could hear the muted cheers as she made her way through the servant halls, which was soon followed by sounds much less palatable to the young woman. She grimaced at the obvious going-ons and hurried on, knowing there would be no servants to catch her.

---

She shut the door behind her with a muted click and turned around to look at the personal office of the dear host. She undid the buttons on her coat and reached under her vest, pulling out a thin, folded satchel.

“Now what to take,” she said to herself, smiling with genuine excitement for the first time that night. It was always a thrill to be where she shouldn’t, taking things that didn’t belong to her. Yet, anyway.

She unleashed her talent, bathing the entire room in her will. She hadn’t had close access to her host, so she had been unable to learn what he treasured the most, forcing her to instead rely on the question of; What cost the most?

What returned to her was an odd sense of emptiness. Like something had been here that was exceedingly expensive to get hold of, but which was no longer here. That she could sense the absence of an object, spoke of how important it had been. She queried its location, and was led to an empty spot underneath in the corner. Indeed, there was a noticeable lack of any dust or discolourations on that part of the floor, as if something large had stood there for a long time.

There was another curiosity with that part of the corner, for above it there seemed to have hung something. Empty hooks were still stuck in the wall, and there was a slight discolouration to the wall as well. Judging by the size and square shape, it was a carpet or tapestry of sorts.

“Curious,” she said to herself. However it wasn’t exactly unheard of for people to move their most beloved valuables to a different place, when they had guests over. That way they could remain safe in the knowledge that the location of their riches remained unknown. She would have to look for them later, if she had time.

For the time being however, she went about searching through the other valuables. There were a few pocket watches that caught her interest, as well as a beautiful, silver-and-gold fountain pen. She turned it over in her hands, smiling. It was indeed beautiful, and would fetch a hefty price on its own, but perhaps she would keep this on.

She went on to other things, using her talent to guide her. Without going to extremes, or specifics that would garner little results, she could only get estimates of the worth of certain items, and discarded many of them when her own, mundane inspection revealed some of the items to be forgeries, or overpriced when initially bought. Digging through the drawers on the large desk fortunately proved a lot more fruitful. A bejewelled letter opener was perhaps the most interesting single object, alongside a few intricate tools of some sort, and as luck would have it, a number of deeds and titles. The titles weren’t for anything too impressive, but a small property was still a property, and with a little forgery, or the right buyer, could become very handy. They were unfortunately also risky, as this was not a man without influence, and robbing him of titles to property could bring too much attention.

She reluctantly let the papers lie, and went on to the next drawer, finding a number of pieces of fabric with detailed embroidery, and of very high quality. Either the man had very feminine hobbies, or he was hiding a gift from his wife. Nevertheless, she placed the silks in her satchel.

A handful of minutes passed, and the satchel was getting close to being full, when Lucie happened to look up, and happened to notice something odd in the reflection of the window. The door behind her was cracked open, and she was certain that she had closed it when she entered.

Her hand was in her jacket before she had even reached the door. Her fingers wrapped around the handle of a hidden knife as she ripped open the door, expecting an intruder. There was no one, not even in the hallway, and the handle proved solid enough when she tried it. Had it opened on its own? Unlikely. Was there something else here? Someone skilled enough to hide from her trained ears?

She sent a pulse of her talent through the room and into the hallway, searching for people, but found none. Uncertainty still clawed at the edge of her thoughts, for while she knew her own capabilities, it wasn’t impossible that someone had snuck to the door, and away from it, without her noticing. She hesitantly returned to collecting valuables, all the while sending out the occasional search with her talent.

It turned out to not even be necessary to use her talent, as it seemed the twinkle-toed individual had decided to abandon all pretence of sneaking when they returned. With no sound other than Lucie’s own rummaging, the gentle thudding of feet against the carpeted hallway floor was easy enough to hear, even before they slowed down and the attempt at being silent was resumed.

Lucie stepped up to the door, close enough to rush in if it opened, but far enough away to not get hit by it. Her hand found a hidden knife in her vest, pulling it free with a nigh inaudible whistle of scraping cloth.

But then, the intruder spoke. "H-hello Ma'am. I mean sir. Did you kill all those people down stairs?"

Lucie started, for a moment shocked into inaction. Murder? Never, unless necessary, or when forced to on a job. She had no reason to kill them, and had not even considered it an option. She sent her talent out to the building they were in, asking the simple question of ’corpses’. An image of naked bodies flashed in her mind, and she had to suppress a gag.

That was when another detail struck her. The woman—for it had been a very soft, feminine voice speaking through the door—had called her Ma’am, only later correcting it to Sir. Had she seen through her disguise? How? No one else had noticed a thing, and she knew how detailed it was. Her eyes narrowed, there was something about this stranger.

“No,” she said quietly, not bothering to alter her voice.

"Right...well, that's good. Now that that is out of the way, I am going to have to ask you to s-stop your acquisition of the hosts personal possessions, there might be a vital clue that could lead to the culprit of the murders hidden in them." The woman paused for a moment. "Except for the box of jewels on the credenza, I am reasonably sure those won't be of importance to my case."

Case, clue, culprit, credenza. She looked down at her satchel, filled with everything she had found so far. Was she to give it all up because some person with delusions of intellectual grandeur asked her nicely? She thought back to the image of dead eyes, frozen expressions of people who had been very much alive just moments earlier. She suppressed a sigh and set the satchel on the floor, removing from it only the fountain pen which she had found. It was too nice to sell, and the initials, belonging to the lord of the mansion, could be filed off.

She let her talent flow into the floor, telling her where her footsteps would make the least sound, and made her way to the jewellery box. She had been spied upon, evidently, it hadn’t just been a loose lock. It took only a little more work to open the windows and storm shutters, and climbed out with nary a sound. The gardener had been good to his word, and she found the ladder placed to the side of the window. A little act of rudimentary acrobatics later, and she was on the ground, jewellery box tucked under her arm.

---

She sat in the shadow of one of the tall bushes, waiting for the time when the guards would rotate. Judging by the hands on her pocket watch, one of her own ones, it wouldn’t be much longer. Every tick led her closer to getting back home and catching up on some sleep.

She looked up at the moon, its crescent much like a sideways smile. It looked almost taunting, in the way it smirked down at her.

”Don’t you want to find out?” it seemed to ask her. ”Why was that chest, and that carpet, so important that eighteen people had to die for it?”

“Aren’t you the least bit curious?” Lucie finished, whispering the words to herself. The lights from inside the mansion drew her eyes, hinting at the party that was supposed to still be going on within. A party that had been reduced to something of a wake, with only a single living person that she knew of. Likely more than just one, though. Unless the twinkle-toed woman was the culprit, there had to be at least one more person within its walls.

Was she going to let a mass murder take place, and not try to catch the culprit? She snorted. She was a thief, a saboteur, and at times an assassin herself. She didn’t have a moral high ground. She flicked open the latch of the jewellery box, peering inside. No, moral high ground there was none of, when she had run away with something this precious.

She took out one piece, a necklace with a sapphire of truly ridiculous size. If it was real, and her intuition told her it was, it would fetch a hefty enough price on its own. Her thoughts turned to the pile of corpses her mind had conjured, and wondered if perhaps there was a high ground to stand on. She hadn’t killed for wealth, at least. Not her own anyway. The box locked shut with a click, the sapphire went into her pocket, and the box she slid under the bush. Moral high ground or not, she at least wanted to see who the culprits were.

The shadows covered her return to the mansion walls, not that there were any to see her. She unceremoniously slapped both hands against the whitewashed cobble, her mind already demanding answers from it before she even touched.

How many people were alive inside? An image of three silhouettes emerged.

How many entrances and exits were there? The number 1 flashed in her mind.

What is the location of that entrance? A series of images flashed before her inner eye; River, back of the garden, sewer, and a door atop a set of stairs within a concrete tunnel.

She stepped back from the wall, staring hard at it. Three people, one of whom was the woman. The other two must then be the thieves, and they were heading for the single entrance into the mansion, which seemed to be located within the sewers, and connected to a river. But only one entrance? That meant everything had been locked down and closed, and that the culprits weren’t amateurs. They knew what they wanted, and had gone to great lengths to get it. They had been prepared, too. She couldn’t underestimate them.

Her thoughts directed towards the ground underneath her, and the garden of the mansion itself, she demanded the location of a river. South west, and tangentially connected to the estate only enough, that it could be used as a port, and for sewage.

Two murderers inside, to exit through a river, meant that there would likely be a boat. That meant guards, at least two, probably three. One to watch the boat, one look-out, and one to cover the gaps.

Her fingers traced along the coarse lines of the wall, and she knew the location of the individuals within. The woman wasn’t too far away from the murderers, but they were closer to the exit. Were they moving? Her skills told her no, they weren’t, but if not then what were they waiting for?

The answer became clearer when she neared the river, and saw the size of it. It was a tidal river, and the waters had risen high. The sewer tunnel was likely flooded. The thought made her grimace. That was a concern for later, however, as the sound of a rustling tree alerted her to the presence of someone else. She darted into the space between two bushes, using their shadows to hide herself. It was the look-out, and he seemed to have grown bored, evident by his vigorous attempt at shaking apples out of the tree.

The boat could not be far away yet, and a cursory use of her ability told her much the same. She looked up from her hiding spot, seeing the building under which she knew the sewer exit was. The river curved by its corner, and with no visible connection from here, meant it would be around the corner of the building. Good, then her soon-to-be acquaintance was out of line of sight from them.

”Well, perhaps there’s one amateur among them,” she privately criticised as she watched the distracted thief shake loose an apple, only for it to fall and land on his head.

She used the distraction to move, closing the distance fast enough that he didn’t look up until she was already too close.

“Wha—”

She didn’t bother with niceties, and silenced him with a dirty, but effective, blow between the legs. She caught him as he crumbled forward with a whimper, and drove her knee into his midsection, robbing him of his breath, then locked her arms around his neck and squeezed.

A matter of seconds later, and she had an unconscious idiot held in her arms. She let him drop like a sack of flour, caring little for his well being. He would regain consciousness soon, however, so she took her chance to pull out a length of wire and set about hogtying him. Her used sock became a substitute for a gag, stuffed into his mouth when he started to regain consciousness.

She left before he was fully back to his senses, taking it slow and cautious. Even she would have difficulty with two men attacking her at once. Once she reached the corner of the building, she stayed low to the ground and peeked around it. Sure enough, there was the boat, a simple one with two oars, and just as many men about it, anchored to a simple pole hammered into the riverbank. It looked rudimentary, like they had brought it as a temporary anchor point.

As opposed to their companion, these two were properly on guard. One stood by the boat, watching the sewer entrance which she now also could see, and the other had his back to her, keeping watch the other way. Not a bad plan overall, but their reliance on a buffoon was coming to haunt them.

She would have to approach carefully, but quickly. There was precious little cover, and though the second thief was on the other side of the small waterway connecting the sewer tunnel to the river proper, it was but a short jump for anyone who wasn’t in bad shape. She could not afford to take any chances here. Even if she took down the first one quickly, chances were the scuffle would be heard by the other, and it would become a brawl.

She dug a hand into her coat, and pulled out a set of brass knuckles.

Her steps carried her quietly forwards, taking a curving path so she didn’t come straight from the side. Another five steps and she would be within striking range, but even her best efforts weren’t enough this time.

“You’re back, Da—” He turned as he spoke, but when he saw a face that wasn’t his friend, he swung.

The knife whistled past Lucie’s face, missing her by a hair’s breadth only because she had stopped.

“JACOB!” He yelled and stabbed at her.

This time Lucie was ready. She danced to the side, grabbed his arm in passing and swung at his elbow. He pulled away, not enough to avoid getting hit, but no bones broke. She rushed in after him, not giving him time to rest. Her brass knuckles found one of his ribs, but he still held his knife and stabbed at her side.

His rib cracked, the wind going out of him, just as the knife found purchase. The blow hurt, but the padding filling out her waist stopped the blade. She kicked up, her foot once more finding purchase on a man. Another strike at his jaw while he was distracted, and he crumbled.

Jacob tackled her just as she looked up, sending them both tumbling to the ground. Jacob was a small man, as evidenced by his tackle being centred around her chest, but the hail of flows that followed painfully informed Lucie of his strength. She blocked one going for her face, turned her head so another hit the ground under her, but the third rattled her jaw and set stars circling her eyes.

“Okay, fuck you,” she growled, and aimed a blow of her own. He grabbed her arm and pinned it, and did the same when she struck with her left.

“Gotcha now,” Jacob growled, leering at her from far too close, and for Lucie’s purposes just close enough.

She threw her head forward, shattering the mask between them as her forehead broke his nose. His grip loosened as he yowled in pain, and using the opportunity, she struck with her brass, shattering his clavicle and knocking him off of her.

Gathering her feet under her, she made certain to knock the last of the resistance out of them. The first one was still out, but Jacob was still awake. One kick, then two, and all resistance and consciousness had left him.

“Way too close,” she grunted, inspecting the hole in her coat. If not for the padding, that knife might have found a kidney, or at least caused so much internal bleeding her life might have been in serious danger.

A quick inspection of the boat rewarded her with a length of rope, which she readily applied to hogtying her two new acquaintances as well—adult men tied like pigs for slaughter. She sacrificed her remaining sock to muffle the two of them, splitting it between them.

The company taken care of, her attention was drawn towards the boat and the sewer entrance. She had little intention of staying around while a self-proclaimed investigator, possibly with law enforcement connections, saw her, but she could at least make certain that they couldn’t get away.

There was still the door that exited into the sewer tunnel which, she saw, was still flooded. If she wanted to trap that one, she would have to get wet.

“I need a shower after today anyway,” she said to herself, and discarded both the vest and coat. She grabbed her remaining wire from her hidden pockets, and took the plunge.

The water was wet, cold, and thoroughly uncomfortable, but at least the flooding from the river meant the water was as clean as river water could be. She half-swam half-walked through the tunnel, using her talent to guide her. There was just enough of a gap to keep her head out of the water and not much else, but thankfully the trip was short and she soon found the stairs, and an old, worn door atop them, just barely a handspan higher than the water.

Much as she had hoped, there were rails on either side of the door, and even a pair of positively ancient oil lamps, nearly rusting off the hinges.

”And,” she thought, ”perfect neck height for the average adult man.”

A minute later, she had tied a piece of wire to either side of the rails at ankle height, and another between the ancient lamps. The last one one likely wouldn’t survive more than one impact, but hopefully the low wire would survive both of them tumbling over it. It would be a painful fall down the stairs, but with even just a little water, and the soft muck on the floor, the victim would have to be exceedingly unlucky to get seriously wounded.

Satisfied with her handiwork, Lucie turned and was about to leave, when a thought occurred to her. Why not leave a small present behind?

She took the oversized sapphire necklace from her pocket, and a tube of lipstick. She scribbled a quick word on the sapphire, and left it to hang over the rusting lamp as well.

“There,” she said, now properly satisfied. She threw one last look at the door, smirked, and swam back the way she had come. She had a boat to take care of before going home with tonight’s income.

[ConteAmarula]

Optional Reading Continued

Lillian held within her hands another woman's undergarments, contemplating if she was more comfortable wearing a stranger's unmentionables than simply wearing nothing under her clothes at all. It was a tough choice to be sure, but the longer she took on it the less time she had to catch a killer. With that in mind she opted to wear the undergarments as they were obviously clean. She then assembled an outfit using different pieces of maid's uniforms. The end result was something that looked exactly like a maid's uniform, but one that fit her relatively well. Her petite upper body mixed with a muscular and defined lower body made it difficult to get clothing that fit, which was why everything Lillian owned was made special for her.

She found herself shockingly taken by the uniform and how it looked on her. All black, with a high lace collar, lace trim, and a white apron with a large pouch. It was tight fitting around the neck and arms, but not uncomfortably so, and the leather work boots she had found were mercifully designed for being on one's feet a lot. Surprised as she was by how much she liked the outfit she was the most happy about being clothed.

After she had calmed down from her run in with the thief, she started looking around for some clothing -or some semblance of tools to open the stuck door to her own clothes- and stumbled across the maid's quarters. She found some tools to help with her investigation there, and some clothing, but nothing that would help with the door. She would have preferred her own clothes and her own, proper, tools; but there was simply no time to waste on the task as she had no idea how long that endeavor would last.

Clothed and feeling more herself Lillian returned to ballroom with the piles of corpses. She hoped to determine the cause of death as that might give her some insight into the workings of the killer. Despite having only been gone a few minutes the room had begun to smell rather terrible as over a dozen bodies began to release the various fluids and gases within them that needed to make their way out. Even if she could get her clothes back Lillian feared the maids would never be able to get the smell out.

Taking deep breaths flooded her smell receptors with the foul odor rapidly, allowing every other smell to drown the foulness out. It was a trick she had discovered some time ago and was helpful for situations where the odor was bad, but not dangerous. Stench dealt with to some degree she began to walk around the corpse pile, deftly avoiding the discarded clothing even as he eyes remained on the bodies. There were no visible wounds, and the no obvious discoloration of the bodies; there were some scratch marks but Lillian was reasonably sure they had nothing to do with the murder. It was as if they all dropped dead at the same time, which left the only likely cause. Lillian walked over to the table covered in cups and had a look, finding out very quickly many of the cups were in various states of being empty, each holding the same dark purple drink. Poison was by all accounts the most reasonable option given the relatively unmarred nature of the bodies, however very odd that they all were effected by what ever poisons was used, almost simultaneously, as if they had all drank from the cups at the same time. Lillian did not recall that happening at any point proceeding the orgy, nor at the start of it. She had been in the changing room for some time and her nervousness had been quite the distraction from the goings on so it was entirely possible they stopped what they were doing to have a toast of some kind.

She decided determining the poison might shed some light on the events and grabbed a cup that was only half full. She sloshed it around to kick up some aromas but found the smells of the room made it nigh impossible to tell, even with her trick, so left the room cup in hand to try again. Lillian then lifted the cup close to her nose and held it there a moment, gently sloshing it back and forth, allowing the aroma to waft into her nostrils without her having to breath in and risk poison finding its way into her lungs. There was an odd odor of unripen tomato's; as soon as she identified the smell Lillian threw the cup as far away from her as she could. The cup hit a wall and liquid exploded out of the cup before it fell to the ground and toppled over, spilling what remained all over the floor. Suddenly the colouration of the odd drink, and the effectiveness of the poison made complete sense. The drinks had been spiked with Belladonna, or possibly even completely made out of it's berries as they had a sweet enough taste a drink made with them could pass for wine. While in small doses it was possible to survive ingestion of Nightshade, if one were to use the plant's roots and refined the active poison down it would create a dose so large it could kill in minutes. Not to mention the advanced age of the members of the orgy meant they were all far more likely to be effected by even a small dose of poison. Belladonna was known to cause hallucinations, so it was likely the licentious cult members simply thought what ever spell or incantation they were invoking was working and pressed on till they all died. Hallucinations would also explain the appetent simultaneous death; it was likely each member died at different times and no one else noticed. Too enthralled by the supposed magic and their own lust.

Lillian frowned at her own thought. While highly plausible it did not account for how every member of the orgy had been effected. Surely not ever single person became thirsty at roughly the same time. The most reasonable explanation was a toast of some kind had been called while Lillian was getting changed. To test this theory she re-entered the ballroom, taking deep breaths, and made her way over to the large book the host had been reading from. It was still wide open on the page he had been reading, and after a quick perusal Lily found that part of the orgy's ritual called for a toast where each member drank at the same time. The drink was even meant to be mixed with a plant, though it was not Belladonna, but Mandrake. A plant well known to be used in occult practices for it's hallucinogenic effects. Every member of the party did in fact drank at the same time and had even been expecting to hallucinate to some degree.

While anyone with means and motive could poison some drinks, only someone with advanced knowledge of the cult and it's practices would know which poison to use and how to use it. It was that line of thinking that allowed Lillian to create a fairly confident hypothesis as to who the culprit was. All she needed at that point was to locate some solid evidence to support her theory, then she would be able to take off after the killer. In search of that evidence she returned to the master bedroom and the satchel of goods the thief had left lying on the floor. She grabbed the bag and emptied the contents onto the bed and began to sift through it. There was nothing of note, just a great deal of expensive items that anyone incline to do so would want to steal. Lillian briefly lamented that the thief lost out on a big hall for nothing, but quickly pushed the thought aside, believing she would meet the woman again someday and could make up for her mistake then. In the meantime she began to search around the room, checking the usual spots people liked to hide important items in. She found a small box of pictures filled with photos of woman from around around the world in various states of de-dress, as well as a talisman of sorts that had been placed under the mattress. Neither were terribly helpful, though she pocketed the box of photos to dispose of later.

She gave the room one more search, and found that as she walked over a specific section of flooring she could feel it dip ever so slightly. A closer inspection reveled the floorboards in one corner of the room, dipped, slightly downward. She also found four indentations and a small series of scratch marks that abruptly ended. Lillian was very confident the item in question was an extremely heavy chest, and that it must have been the item in question the killer was after. The scratch marks, or more accurately their sudden disappearance, was rather clear as well. Some minor discoloration on the wall indicated there used to be a large piece of drapery or carpet hanging up at one point, but no longer was. The killer likely found the chest difficult to carry and took the carpet or drapery down to drag the chest along with.

Once again Lillian frowned at her own thought. Based on the markings left in the wood, and the fact that there was deformation of the floor boards at all, indicated the chest was likely too heavy even when being dragged with a carpet. The most reasonable explanation as to how the chest was being moved, was the killer had at least one other accomplice. A secondary implication of that realization caused Lillian to run and pick up the sword she had left on the ground. The entire manor had been locked down, and there was no way to easily get out with a large heavy chest. Which meant the killer or killers, were likely sill in the building.

[ConteAmarula]

Optional Reading Concluded

A sword was violently jiggled around in an attempt to force the blade between a door and its' frame. Lillian had given up on trying to find the proper tools for the job and had become quite reasonably desperate to get her tools back. The sword was however proving ineffective and the distressed woman had had enough at that point.

"To hell with this, time to wreck the gaff." With a quick look to the door of the ballroom to ensure no one was sneaking up behind her, she took a step back, lifted a booted foot, and kicked at the door near the latch with all her might. The door burst open as the small latch gave way and came partially off it's hinges. The door slammed into the oil lantern within, breaking it, and spilling a lanterns worth of oil all over her discarded clothes. It hardly mattered, there was no time to change anyway, she simply wanted her tools.

Another glance to the door, then Lillian reached past the broken door and grabbed her kit. She quickly belted it on and fetched one of her specimen pistols. Once armed with a sword and gun she was feeling more confident, more so after she switched the pistol to her dominant hand and held the sword in her off hand. A swordsman she was not, but she had plenty of experience with her special weapon.

There was no time to search the whole house, and less time to fetch the authorities. Or rather she did not know how much time she did or did not have so haste was default. For all she knew she was already too late, but that wasn't about to stop her. She needed to figure out where in the house the killers could have gone.

Taking a deep breath Lillian filtered all the facts she knew about the case through her head. The only piece of information she knew for certain, is the killers had a heavy chest that most likely would have been very difficult to move. Meaning they would have dragged it quite a bit, and had to put it down for rests. With the weight of the chest both of those likelyhoods meant there would be evidence if she simply looked for it.

Entering the hall once more she better took in her surroundings to see what she had to work with. The floor was carpeted, at least on the second story, and the stairs down where halfway between the ballroom and the master bedroom. Lillian walked to the stairs, stopping a few meters from it, and bent low to the ground. She looked down towards the master bedroom, and tilted her head back and forth until she saw what she had expected to see. Very subtle drag marks in the carpet left behind when the killers forced the fibers of the carpeted floor to all go in one direction. It was difficult to see unless you were looking for it, but once you did it was extremely noticeable, especially when compared to the other end of the hall which had undisturbed carpet.

The drag marks stopped at the stairs, and a quick inspection of a few of the steps revealed fresh gouges and scrapes. The stairs lead right into the foyer, however it was clear the killers had not used it -not that Lillian expected they would-. The first floor was not carpeted, however it was clear which direction the murderers had gone as the fools had smashed the chest into an archway and took a sizeable chunk out. Lillian even spotted the piece of wood that had been removed underneath a table.

She was able to follow more subtle clues until she found herself in the kitchen where the trail unfortunately went cold. The floor was tiled, so no scratches or drag-marks to follow, and the kitchen in any household was always a high traffic area so it was difficult to spot any fresh marks in a sea of worn-wood, scratches, gouges, and stains.

There were multiple directions to go, though she was able to narrow down two as one was where she had just entered from, and the other was a door that lead outside and was quite clearly still secured up tight. That left three directions, none of which made much sense for the killers to go. Down to the cellar, into the dinning room, or into a service hall for the staff.

A nagging sensation at the back of her mind was drawing her to the cellar. She appalled operating on instinct however and so focused her mind on reasons why the cellar made sense. She quickly had an idea as to why, and put her sword down. Fishing on her her journals out of a pouch she placed it on the counter and flipped through it with one hand till she found a map she had been working on that detailed the sewers and underground water ways of the city. It was incomplete, but there was enough done to show there was in fact at least one waterway that went under the manor. It was not unlikely to think there might be an entrance to that path via the cellar. The book also had several notes, one of extreme interest was a reminder she had written for herself that certain paths could only be explored at low tide when the tunnels were empty. A quick look at a clock on the wall revealed that the tide would have gone out enough that any one who didn't have an issue getting their knees wet could traverse the tunnels safely.

Lillian snapped the book shut, stuffed it into a pouch, fetched her sword, and took off down into the cellar.

As far as cellars went it was fairly normal for the size of the manor and the wealth of its deceased owner. Something that immediately stuck out was a tun barrel in the corner that took up far too much room. There was no way such a barrel could have been carried down, and another quick look around revealed no exits to the outside to allow for easy delivery of an healthy amount of drink.

Lillian walked up to the barrel, placed an ear against it, and gave a gentle tap. She was unsurprised to hear a hollow thud. Lillian walked to the front of the barrel, leaned her sword against the wall, and grabbed hold of the spigot; turning it like a door knob. There was an audible click, and she found she could pull the front open like a door. She listened a moment and heard the voices of several men echoing from much farther away than one would expect given the size of the barrel. She opened it enough to see inside and found an empty interior, and a large opening in the brick foundation that lead to a tunnel.

Lillian retrieved her sword and slowly venture in towards the voices.

The tunnel she ventured down smelled of damp, and the brick work was made of strange haphazard pieces. As far as Lillian could tell the tunnel was formed using left over bricks from the construction of the manor. The steps that lead downward were formed straight out of a hard clay, with large obvious gouges from what ever tool was used for form it, and a noticeable trail of deformed clay obviously compressed by the chest being dragged down the stairs.

The voices grew louder to the point Lillian was confident whoever it was was just at the bottom. Her breathing picked up, and the grip on her weapons tightened. She was armed, and she had the element of surprise, the only thing to worry about was whether or not she would be able to potentially kill another human being, even if they were a murderer. Part of her screamed no at the thought, but the more logical side of her made it clear that if she was unwilling to use force, then she might as well be marching to her grave.

Deep breath.

Lillian rushed down the last few steps, weapons at the ready. "Don't move!" she screamed as she entered into the halo of lantern light that illuminated three men and a large cedar chest atop a worn carpet. All three men were suitably surprised, with one who had been sitting on the chest falling over off it. Of the trio, she recognized but one, and it was the face of the man she had expected to find behind everything. It was the neighbor whose house she had broken into a few weeks prior, who had a secret room for practicing the occult, and a bevy of stolen art works. He was also invited to the part, and one of the few people who would have even known about it.

Lillian slowly stepped to the side, keeping her weapons poised to strike, and trying to position herself so there was no easy way for any of the three to get the jump on her. "Now, all three of you are going to march back up those steps, o-one of you will tie the other two to some chairs, and then I will tie you to a chair. At that point I will be fetching the authorities." The slight tremble in her voice gave her away and when of the men reached for a pistol that was resting atop the chest. Lillian reacted quickly and fired her pistol, launching a storm of small pins into the man's hand. The human pin cushion screamed out in pain and managed a series of curse words and gender specific insults. Lillian ignored him and dropped the now empty gun so she could grab her next one, but as she let go her neighbor leapt forwards, spurred to action with the misguided confidence of someone who over estimated their odds. Trained swordsman or not, it took very little to stave off an unarmed foe with a blade; a quick flick of her wrist introduced a large slash to her attackers face and drove him back. "Would anyone else like to try that? Or has my tied to a chair plan perhaps become more appealing?" Her words dripped with self-assurance, but it was a well played farce; Lillian was terrified and desperately hoping none of the men could see her struggling to pull out her next pistol. When her hand finally managed to get itself around the grip of her pistol she attempted to yank it out of her pouch quickly, but it became snagged on a strap. Her neighbor noticed this and took the opportunity to turn and run; his fallen comrade made for his pistol again but with his uninjured hand while the remaining man stood stunned, looking at the fleeing neighbor as if he wasn't sure if he should run too.

Just as the pin cushion of a man got his hand on his piece Lillian managed to get her own pistol free and immediately fired a shot at the man's hand. Her weapon now empty the only other standing man took off down the tunnel after the neighbor. Lillian dropped her pistol and rushed over to the chest, grabbing the one that laid on top and took off after the fleeing pair, ignoring the blubbering fool on the ground with both hands full of pins. She had managed to maintain control of the situation without having to kill anyone, which pleased her, but the situation had changed drastically and Lillian was convinced her only options then were to kill or allow the pair to escape. Neither seemed like good options, and the surprising weight of a proper pistol in her hand felt very fitting considering the seriousness of the situation.

Even in more reasonable boots, Lillian was having a great amount of troubles keeping up with the fleeing men and they quickly fell out of her line of sight. There was barely any light so far into the tunnel, and Lillian felt like she should give up the chase. Just as she slowed to a stop however she hear a strange sound; like something being pulled out of a wall followed, by a strangled gasp, and a large thud. A moment later there was a scream of surprise and another large thud. Just up ahead was an opening and a short staircase that lead into the drain tunnel proper. At the bottom of the stairs was her neighbor and his thug, both in a crumpled mess, and both very unconscious. She carefully made her way down the steps and made a small hop to get over both bodies quickly. She then gave each a few jabs in the side with her foot, and even gave a small quick to the nether regions of her neighbor. When there was no reaction of any kind she felt satisfied enough they were out cold to put down her weapons. A short length of rope was fetched from one of her pouches and cut in half so she could hog tie the pair, an action which gave her an odd sensation of nostalgia for the simple days of being a farmers daughter in Ireland.

It wasn't quite as dark in the tunnel where she was as light from the outside was reflecting it's way down provided just enough illumination for her to see the glistening wounds on each of the men's heads. She quickly checked the pair's pulses to ensure they were simply unconscious, which they were, before she returned to the stairs to figure out what happened. She didn't need much light to spot a rusty lantern hanging from another rust lantern, connected by a length of wire. It was clear the dangling lantern used to be attached to the wall on the other side of the opening, easily verified by the holes in the wall for mounting nails. The wire would have been roughly neck height for the average man, which would have given anyone exiting into the tunnel a nasty surprise. The other trap was a bit harder to find in the low light, but Lillian did eventually find a second length of wire at the bottom of the stairs attached to either side a set of rails. The wire was in two pieces, broken when one of the fleeing men's ankles got caught on it. While inspecting the tripping hazard, Lillian was surprised to find a sapphire necklace on the ground just under the pair of rusting lanterns. She picked it up and noticed immediately something was written on it, but there wasn't quite enough light to read it.

After double checking her knots Lillian returned to the chest and the lantern. The pinned man was still there, quietly sobbing, and using his teeth to pull the pins out one at a time. He had managed to get a good chunk of them out. Lillian did not want to have to deal with a conscious criminal, so took advantage of the back the man was facing away from her. She snuck up as best she could, a task made easier by the man being rather distracted, hoisted her stolen pistol into the air, and brought the butt of the gun down hard on the mans skull between the spinal Axis and the Superior Nuchal Line. The man crumpled forwards and Lillian had to act quick to stop him falling on his hands and making the damage worse. She then uncaringly pulled all the pins out as quick as she could and precured the man's belt to hog time him as well.

Thugs taken care of, and now with a light source, Lillian pulled the sapphire necklace back out and examined it. Written on the back in what was easy to determine to be lipstick were the words 'You're Welcome.' Lillian was not entirely certain who was responsible, though she had a pretty good idea. She pocketed the necklace, intent on keeping it for herself, and turned her attention to the cedar chest. The criminals had been caught, but her curiosity was flaring up quiet fiercely; what could be in the chest worth killing over. Her mind immediately went to objects of wealth, as that seemed to be what the rich often killed over.

The chest was locked tight with four sperate locks, each of which was deftly dealt with by Lillian thanks to the reclamation of her kit. She threw the lid open and was rather confused and surprised to find the entire chest seemed to be filled with rather coarse salt, or at least it appeared to be salt. Lillian leaned forwards and took a large whiff; the was the unmistakable smell of salt to be sure, but there was a stranger smell as well that she could not quite figure out.

Fetching and donning a pair of gloves from one of her pouches Lillian began to sift through the salt. It didn't take her long before she found something. At first she couldn't be sure what she was looking at so began to take large handfuls of salt out of the chest and dump it on the floor. A few minutes later she had revealed the naked body of a woman with the multihorned head of a bull, and a matching set of gentiles. Lillian's mouth fell agape, in utter shock at what she was seeing. She stood and moved backwards till she pressed against the wall, using it to keep her grounded. She was not, for one moment, fooled by what she was seeing. There was not a doubt in her mind that the creature was a farce, a fabrication meant to look like some occult figure akin to the statue she found in her neighbors home. Fake or not was irrelevant, it was the mutilation of a persons body to form such a monstrosity that had shaken her so. In the name of science and medicine she could accept, and even encourage, all forms of alterations that some might consider desecration. But the woman was not deformed to aid humanity, she was deformed to appease some religious zealot and have her body kept in a chest close by like some kind of trophy.

It was many minutes before Lillian found the will to move. An examination of the body revealed she had been correct, it was a fake; all be it a rather good one. The extra parts had been attached very methodically then blended in with waxes and make-up. There was perhaps a time when it might have looked convincing to even someone who knew what to look for, but that time passed long ago. The natural discoloration of the decaying skin contrasted very noticeably with what had been done to blend the disparate parts together. Lillian was able to determine both the woman's body and the bulls had been fully and properly embalmed, which made her question the purpose of the salt. The only reasonable conclusion was it was included by whoever made the farce to try and hide the trickery as long as possible. Anyone able to properly embalm someone and convincingly graft different parts onto a corpse like some kind of real-life Frankenstein would have known the couldn't fool someone forever.

Lillian carefully closed the lid on the chest and left the tunnels. She found her way back to the foyer of the manor, and with the help of her many tools, managed to bust open the front doors. It did not take long to find an officer as they often patrolled the more wealthy parts of town. An army of soldiers lead by a constable showed up twenty minutes later.

Lillian lead the officers around the house and explained the events that transpired with very few details altered. She left out the thief, and the part about her running around naked. Instead she explained she had simply broken in operating on a hunch; it was a blessing sometimes when her reputation proceeded her as she did not need to elaborate on that particular part of the story. The time it took for the authorities to arrive had given her plenty of time to hide her oil stained clothes, and put the master bedroom back into some semblance of order.

After she informed them of the underground tunnel and explained there must have been some mode of escape at the end it was searched by a few officers. They reported back that they found a boat and four more unconscious and tied up men. Every one of the officers was impressed such a petite woman was able to take on seven men and come out on top. She did not correct them that she had nothing to do with the four at the boat as she did not see what good that would do, and was not entirely certain what had happened herself. She figured she might as well take the credit, having her reputation expand to include being a woman not to trifle with had it's advantages.

On her recommendation, only the constable looked into the chest. He had a similar reaction to Lillian, though it was because unlike her he was unable to recognize it for what it was. When he finally clamed down enough for Lillian to get a word in she pointed out the obvious flaws, which the constable, thankfully, accepted right away. Whether or not it was because her evidence was compelling, or because any evidence would have worked in the face of a demon was unclear. Either way the constable thanked Lillian for her work, and then thanked her again for making sure only he saw what was in the chest. It went unspoken but she was sure it was because he feared what would happen if rumors had the chance to spread. He was grateful enough that he allowed Lillian to assist with the autopsy at her request, which was a rarity indeed. The autopsy revealed the bull head, which had four horns, was completely natural, and that both bodies had been decaying for a few years.

Lillian would spend the next four months of her life trying to track down the identity of the woman in the chest, and the person or persons responsible for her desecration. To everyone's surprise but her own, Lillian did in fact find the answer to both of those questions. After a four month long search she found herself in Castle Combe, Wiltshire, a small town in Britain. The man responsible was the town's mortician, whose brother owned a cow farm. The pair of them had come up with the plan together, and were both hung a few weeks later for their crimes. Lillian refused to attend, though the constable who had seen what was in the chest -and whom Lillian had kept in contact with- made a point to make his way to Britain so he could see the brothers hang with his own eyes. Lillian mused it was some kind of closure, or perhaps a desperate attempt to gather more proof what he saw in the chest was a ruse.

Upon her return to Prague Lillian took a special interest in the occult, and any other magical practices, feeling it was a dark part of society that needed to be kept an eye on.

[Astarael42]

Adam greeted Lily with a quick nod then strode on out of the building without looking back. He heard Lily catch up with him but didn't slow until he reached the carriage and opened the door. Only then did he turn and gracefully assist Lily up into the carriage, leaping lightly in after her.

“What was that all about a nurse?” asked Adam once they were underway. He had only been half paying attention and caught a few words but not the conversation proper. His distaste of the doctor had only increased as he spent time with the man and he had stopped listening to the man by the time they had returned to the parlor area.

“Nevermind” said Adam quickly “if it is important you can tell me later. Right now we need to get to Lucie. Fast will be better than slow. I fear I have miscalculated.”

He rapped on the roof of the carriage and the carriage came to a stop. Adam opened the door and looked around, nodding. They hadn't gone far but it was enough to not be seen from the manor and that would do.

“I hope you can ride” he said to Lily as he stepped out. He was distracted enough he forgot his manners and left her to fend for herself as he hopped up to talk in hurried whispers to the driver. The driver nodded and guided the carriage further off the road. Then he and Adam unhitched the horses and quickly rigged up riding bridles on both. A large pouch of coins changed hands and the driver took the coins and wandered off into the streets to find “trustworthy” urchins to help guard the carriage while he went home and fetched another team of horses. Adam's carriage would be waiting at the manor when he returned, cleaned and ready for the next time it would be needed. Adam tried to keep quality staff on his payroll and the driver was no exception.

Adam dismissed the issue of the horseless carriage from his thoughts and turned to the next problem. They would need to ride bareback with only a bridle. It wasn't ideal but his Talent was flaring in his mind urging him to hurry. He couldn't even quite place why he felt it was so urgent but he trusted what he knew even if he didn't quite know why he knew.

When he turned to go get Lily he found she was already there, correctly guessing what their new plan was, she had hitched her skirts up into skirt lifters so she could ride easier. Not for the first time was Adam glad he fully embraced the freedom of masculine attire, though quality dresses did, admittedly, enhance the beauty of the wearer.

“Good” he said nodding “a carriage will slow us down. Just let me get” he blinked once and stopped talking as he realized that Lily was also holding his sword that he had left in the carriage. He nodded, she was indeed prepared, and quickly belted it on.

Adam was uncertain if Lily would be comfortable riding alone and bareback but she assured him she was more than capable and he took her at her word. He quickly led one of the horses to her, helping her mount, before easily pulling himself onto the other.

He didn't speak further, just nodded quickly at Lily and turned and headed down the road. He was looking for the eastern cutoff road he remembered from his study of the maps of the area. Once they were one the right road he pushed them into a canter, watching both sides of the road as the horse's easy stride ate up the ground. Adam spared a moment to check behind him to be sure that Lily was doing fine and he spared a minute to be grateful carriage horses were often picked for the smoothness of their stride. This was actually rather easy riding.

*****



Olivia wandered the corridors of the mansion with ease, despite the dark. She never even stopped to wonder about how she managed to get here so easy or wandered the house so perfectly. Edward was always with her and it was his house after all. He talked to her constantly, telling her stories and playing games with her. It was really her only escape, here she was safe. She knew it because he told her she was. Oh he was a bit older, he said he had gone to war. She couldn't remember hearing about a war at the asylum, any of the asylums her parents had left her in, but then the folk there rarely talked to little children. She had been at her current “caregivers” the longest; yet sometimes she wondered if they even knew her name. But despite Edward's age he played with her like she was his baby sister. He protected her too; even at the hospital. He wasn't able to do a lot from his house but he could help her bear the pain. If it weren't for the fact that he never had any food and the beds were uncomfortably filthy she might have just stayed there. She tried it once, even brought a blanket from her room to sleep on the couch, but got too hungry. When she woke up she was so weak from hunger she felt like she was almost nothing, frail as a cobweb. That day she hadn't made it back to the asylum in time but she had lucked into farmers barn; she ended up eating horse oats soaked in fresh milk from the cow. Utterly disgusting but she was certain with every fiber of her small being that if she hadn't eaten she would have died.

Edward couldn't leave and she couldn't stay no matter how much he begged her.

She loved her days at his house though, listening to stories, playing games. “People are coming looking for you Livvy” Edward suddenly said, interrupting her thoughts. She had just been about to shoot her marble, that was what they were playing to day, and she looked up uncomprehending for a moment. No one ever looked for her.

It took a second for the panic to hit but when it did she stood up quickly scattering her marbles around the wood floor. Had the Doctor finally found her hiding place? Did she have to run...she wasn't sure how far she could get. She was so tired, she was always tired when she first go to the house, and running seemed like an overwhelming concept.

“Hide” said Edward firmly. He knew she'd never be able to run right now, he would have to keep her safe in his home. Fortunately it was -his- home, he had power here. “Hide!” he all but shouted at her, the command clear in his voice.

It was the first time she had heard him sound like a grown up. He talked to her like she was a distraction, it was almost scary. “I'll deal with this. They are...different.”

Olivia didn't waste any more time. Dropping Edwards's hand she heard him clatter to the ground as she took off running up to the second floor. Edward's directions on how to get to a good hiding spot were clear in her mind...helping her avoid broken and squeaky floors, dangerous stairs, and crumbling furniture to quickly squirrel herself inside an old chest made of some really strong smelling wood. She pulled the lid shut behind her and tried to keep her shivers and sniffles contained as she curled in the darkness waiting. She was tired, not as much as usual, but still quite tired, and in the dankness with the exhaustion of tears and other things weighing on her, she fell into a fitful sleep.

It was so hard, so tiring, to feel everything so intensely. She was a psychic sponge, and even those people with the tiniest bit of psychic ability rubbed off on her. It was like constantly having weights added into her pockets. It got so hard some days that she couldn't bear it. Until she met Edward. He was able to take the weight from her, actually seemed eager to do so, and every time she visited burdened with all the energy she absorbed at the asylum, he happily took that energy and each time he grew a little more able to help her, sometimes she could even feel him at the asylum. Usually when she was in great pain. He was there to help her bear it.

Of course she didn't understand any of this, or even really know anything about it. No one was around to explain psychic Talents, or help her understand why any of this was happening to her. All she knew was that she rapidly grew tired, worn down, and heavy at the asylum and when she visited Edward her whole existence grew lighter. It was such a relief. Edward kept wanting her to stay but after she almost died of starvation he insisted she return to the asylum every morning. She never understood why but she always felt it was a good idea to follow his instructions.

***

Adam took the lead on the horses, riding easily he didn't have to focus on anything but the problem at hand, that gave him a slight advantage. He fully opened his mind, letting his psychical senses view the problem from all angles. It was his Talent that told him where to go, his Talent that guided him. He didn't even try to understand why he knew what he knew. He trusted that what he knew was correct. Giving himself over to be solely guided by his psychic power was the only way he knew of getting to Lucie in time. It was clear as a glittering gem in mud...if she used her Talent to touch the wrong thing in that mansion she would probably die. Or go mad. Which was basically the same thing. He didn't actually have time to think; only trust and react.

He kept an even pace, guiding them down a side track that was almost invisible until they passed it, he looked back occasionally to be sure Lily was keeping pace, but he did not speak. Out of the corner of his eye he registered a crumbling brick wall, almost completely overgrown and lost in the foliage. He slowed automatically before he even realized what he was doing. Looking back and forth he slid down and looped the horses reigns over a branch. He didn't see Lucie but he knew he was where he needed to be. He quickly tied up Lily's horse as she slid off it.

“Come on” he said in a low voice “we go on foot from here”. Making sure his sword was comfortably settled he started jogging down Lucie's trail, a feeling of foreboding growing inside him. The psychic energy was getting strong enough that anyone sensitive to such things would know there was something wrong fairly close by. He spotted Lucie ahead in the shadows, a pattern that didn't fit, and quickened his pace. He didn't want to shout out to her, mostly because he didn't want to attract attention, but he quickened his pace. “Wait” he said softly as he and Lily joined her in the shadows. “I don't think it would be wise to use your talent on anything we find in there. It wants to be touched....” He handed Lucie the stuffed toy he had pocketed instead. “If you find the girl maybe this will convince her you mean her no harm, and if not, well we need to examine it later at the House Ianus anyway. Whatever we do I think it would be best if we made it clear we do not intend to harm the girl. Something is protecting her, and I'm not entirely sure the three of us are a match for it.”

He looked over the mansion ahead of them. He'd never seen it before in his life. And it looked like it had been abandoned for longer than he had been alive. It was the quintessential “ghost house” half rotting, dark, old, and forgotten. But he knew with perfect certainty that the girl was in there. He also knew that there was something in there that was not the girl; it was that “something” that was giving him pause.

“Well, I'm pretty sure this is some sort of trap.” He looked to the two ladies beside him. “Shall we go in?”

He kept his tone light but every nerve, natural and psychical, tingled within him. There was so much wrong here he couldn't process it all consciously but his Talent told him more than his non-psychical thoughts did...the girl was inside, so too was her friend, her friend was not a “friend,” it was not human, it was old, and it was strong enough on the psychic realm to protect and aid the girl, and it would likely kill them if they tried to hurt her. The part he was really struggling with was that he also sensed that if they tried to harm the friend it would be history.

“History doesn't make any sense” he muttered very quietly to himself as he steeled himself to move forward and face whatever they found inside.

[kapuchu]

The sound of approaching footsteps warned Lucie of their presence before Adam’s words did. She glanced over her shoulder, nodding as he spoke and he and Lillian settled down beside her.

“I experienced something like Babaroga’s teeth tearing at my mind earlier—I attempted to search for Olivia’s location—after using my talent on the entirety of Prague.” She winced at the memory, her finger trailing the line of dried blood by her hairline. “Good to know it’s this… thing, then, and not my limits. Probably. And hello to you, Lillian.”

The doll she accepted otherwise wordlessly, turning it over and inspecting it, as Adam laid out their goals. It was not entirely comforting to know they were up against something superhuman, especially not when she could not reliably punch it into submission. Even so, the directions aligned with Lucie’s own intentions and priorities. She wanted to give Olivia a chance at a new life, and even if she couldn’t be the perfect mother, she—no, those thoughts would come later. She had to focus on the task at hand. She stuffed the toy inside of her jacket, close to her heart.

*************************************************************************

Lilian stared intently at the manor, taking in every detail, hoping for something resembling a clue. She heard Lucie's greeting but was rather distracted and barely managed to respond, simply turning her head slightly and nodding . The house was old for certain, dilapidated by all metrics of the word, however she would not have described it as unkempt, or even abandoned. It was the small details; both the roof and the porch were devoid of any kind of foliage or other such fauna that tended to accumulate in places that had been abandoned; the flower beds, though only sporting the bloomless skeletal remains of rose bushes that had long ago given up on life, were devoid of weeds and the normal underbrush a gardener would busy themselves removing; the windows that were intact, of which there were few, were as clean and transparent as glass could be. By all accounts someone was doing their best to maintain some semblance of a home.

The information was not terribly surprising, but also not terribly helpful. Either the girl was simply keeping her hideaway as tidy as a child could manage, or the entity was. Either way it didn’t tell her much beyond that the illusion of a home was important to one of them. Her mind leaned more towards the entity as whatever it was was clearly tied to the house in some way.

“I have…” Lillian began, but stopped. Her hand was buried deep into one of her pockets and was grasping a palm sized device made of brass. “That is to say… I believe I have a course of action in mind.” She didn’t wait for a reply for genuine concern any distraction would lead to her changing her mind. “We have little information, therefore we must proceed assuming the worst case scenario possible and work backwards with the information we do have to make things… less worse.

This is clearly not human, which opens up a world of dangers. A being of pure psionic energy is a being with near limitless capabilities. Especially if it has reached a point where it has not only the ability to influence the physical world, but reach far distances. Adam, you say this is a trap, and I tend to agree. Such a being would in all likelihood know we are here.
Now…” Lillian pulled the device out of her pocket but kept it in her hand and did not reveal it. “There are some assumptions we can make. The first being, though likely powerful, if it knew for certain we were here, and where we were, we would have been dealt with already. So it most likely isn’t fully aware of our presence. Whether that means specific location, specific numbers, both or neither, is hard to say. Regardless of specifics, I think we can take advantage of that small detail by splitting into groups, divide its attention.”

She turned to look at her companions who waited intently for her to finish. “The next thing we know is that it is likely tied to this location, otherwise it wouldn’t need to have lured the girl out here, and it wouldn’t make a point to keep things as well kept as they are.” A twinge of confusion on Lucie’s face made it clear she didn’t see what Lillian saw, but she pressed on “so, destroying the house is likely a suitable means to remove the entity. Fire should do the trick, even when the wood is moist, a house as old as this burns like kindling.

Lastly, this thing feeds on psionic energy, meaning it needs it or at the very least wants it. Which is where this comes into play.” Lillian revealed the brass device. Cylindrical and well polished with a filigree design etched into it by someone who clearly had no idea how to do such a task. Both the top and bottom of the tube were plugged with brass caps, with the top cap possessing a protruding ring. “This is my Ionic Propagator, it is a device I made to-” Lillian cut herself off, realising there was no time for a proper explanation, and the look on Lucie’s face made her feel like she was speaking another language. “To spare a long explanation, it can absorb Psionic energy. I couldn’t say how much however, as to date I have been unable to properly create a suitable metric of measurement. Regardless, it works, and a lot or a little, this thing should notice a piece of itself missing.” She looked down at the device, praying in the privacy of her own mind that her assumptions on the entity were at least half right.

”My plan is to make myself known with this device, and attempt to bluff it. It has no idea what this is, or its limitations. But it will know it can steal what it has. I only need to keep it distracted long enough for you two to find the girl. You leave, signal me, I leave, and we burn this place to the ground. Thoughts?” Lillian turned to look at the manor again, not wanting to see her companions' faces. Technically speaking her plan was likely less dangerous than sparring with a large ogre was, but the unknowns in the equation made her skittish and she didn’t wish the others to take note. She was pragmatic, not a hero, were there other options she’d have suggested them. Were she to base it on her own preferences, she’d have sent one of the other two in with the device to dupe the inhuman creature. However Adam was by all accounts still run down from their last encounter, and Lucie’s desire to adopt the young girl meant it would do the most good to have Lucie be the one to find her. Lillian knew how the device worked, had not a motherly bone in her body, and between her and Adam she was the least worse for wear. Pragmatism, not heroism.

Lucie stared at the strange device for a moment, her thoughts racing. There was definitely a chance that it could work, she figured. Her previous experience left her still cautious however. “I think the idea has merit, Lillian, but if what Master Adam says is true, then we are at a disadvantage. This… thing is arcane and esoteric in ways I cannot begin to comprehend yet. I recommend caution.” She looked towards the manor, her expression one of consternation. “Promise me something,” she said and fixed Lillian with a stare. “If it gets dangerous, you run. I would rather have to bolt for my and Olivia’s life, than an extra ten seconds of head start at the cost of your health. Or life.”

For just a moment their eyes met, a curious look of mild consternation flashed across Lillian’s face, before she directed her attention towards the manor. She didn’t say anything, but gave a single, quick nod. It didn’t quite convince Lucie that her warning and request had been taken seriously, but there was a buzzing at the edge of her senses that told her that they were on a time limit so she decided to let it go. She released her grip and directed her own attention towards the grounds. Lillian was a resourceful woman, she would not get herself into unnecessary trouble. Hopefully.

Lucie glanced at her other companion. “Adam, you said to not try to ‘touch’ the entity within the manor, correct?”

“Yes. It feeds off of psychic talents, and would be inadvisable.”

A faint smirk, tinged with uncertainty at the edges, appeared on Lucie’s face. “Nothing about the grounds, then. Give me a moment.” She put her hands to the ground, and let her mind probe the area they were on. She made a point to avoid the building itself, only letting her field of ‘insight’ creep up close to the walls. Fortunately, that was all she needed. ’Where did Olivia approach the manor?’ she queried, and as soon as the thought formed, it was like glowing footprints appeared on the ground, visible only to her mind’s eye. Her attention fell on a pair of trees to the north-west of the manor, ordinary but for the fact that they were leaning against each other and creating an angled archway of sorts. Experience told her that it was an animal trail; a common road that deer and other critters likely used. And it was where Olivia had approached from, and walked directly towards the manor in a straight line.

“There,” she pointed towards where she now knew was an entrance. “If we follow Lillian’s plan, that would be our best entrance point. It’s where Olivia came in, and there’s a good chance she’ll still be relatively near it.” She glanced at Adam and cocked her head, then headed that way, expecting him to follow—or voice complaints.