Requiem by Skye Knizley

Author:Skye Knizley [Knizley, Skye]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Vamptasy Publishing and Steamworks Ink
Published: 2016-01-15T06:00:00+00:00

CHASTITY CLIMBED TO where she’d last seen Moody and found her sword in a puddle of slime mixed with what looked like a layer of skin. She felt certain that it would smell to high heaven were it not for her rain-soaked mask and the smoke from a nearby chimney. She pulled her sword from the mess and cleaned it as best she could before slipping it back into the sheath at her hip. With it seated and a lecture from Herbert avoided, she sat in the lee of the chimney and bandaged her hand. It didn’t feel as if the bones were broken, but it was stiff and sore and probably would be for several days. If she was careful it shouldn’t impede her work.

When she was finished, she turned and started back toward Moody’s apartment. Though he was unlikely to return and it was a risk after the commotion she’d caused, his severed hand may yet provide some clues, at least to what he was. Herbert and Kyrie were miracle workers at identification.

Clocks were chiming the tenth hour when she reached the alleyway beside JW Reynolds. Everything was quiet save for the officer pacing outside, truncheon at the ready. Chastity wasn’t surprised to find an officer on duty, doubtless someone had called the police in once the cause of the fire, or lack of one, had been discovered. She watched him long enough to be certain he wasn’t going to notice her, then climbed the drainpipe she’d used to make her exit just a few hours before. The window Moody had broken was still open and she climbed over the sash, being careful of her injured hand. Now the adrenaline had faded, it was beginning to smart.

The room looked unchanged; the hole she’d made in the wall, the strange mucus left behind by Moody and the detritus of their short fight were all as she’d last seen them. But the door was closed and his hand, which had fallen just inside, was gone. Chastity crept to the spot where she was certain it lay and confirmed it had indeed left a patch of slime on the wooden floor, a patch that was now drying in the warmth from below.

From behind her she heard the ominous click of a revolver. She half turned to see a figure standing in the shadow beside the stove. He was wearing a Western hat and holding Moody’s hand in a piece of torn newspaper.

“Looking for this?” Inspector Price asked.

Chastity looked at him and again was grateful her features were obscured by her hood and mask. She hadn’t expected to find Price here, though she shouldn’t have been surprised. A bloodless, severed hand was the sort of case he would be interested in.

“I asked you a question,” Price said when she hesitated.

Chastity raised her hands and turned so she was facing him, but deeper in shadow. She couldn’t let him see her face or capture her, but she also didn’t want to be shot, and by all accounts Price was a skilled marksman.

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