“We need to be quick with this,” Psylaiso muttered, voice heavy. “By tomorrow, we start the trial. Otherwise that poor girl will be maggots.” She turned to Jeremiah. “What do you think happened?”
“She was stabbed in her sleep,” Jeremiah replied, licking his lollipop. His eyes gleamed with something unreadable. “By somebody she trusted. Maybe a Saint… or the riskier route.”
Saraline tilted her head. “Which is?”
Jeremiah’s horns glowed a deep, bloody crimson. His lips curled into a grin.
“She was killed by a friend.”
Zero’s tail twitched eagerly.
Meanwhile, Famine crouched in Roxanne’s room, observing every corner. He used his mind to lift her bed and found a small pack of notes wedged underneath. His hollow eyes shimmered. He snatched the stack and strolled outside.
“What do you got?” Richard’s voice cut through the air as he approached, eyes spiraling.
“Evidence. Pack of notes. Use your gloves so you don’t contaminate it, boy.” The ghoul chuckled, handing them over.
Richard began to read aloud, voice trembling.
“I’m so upset, my journal is left in the Cathedral so I cannot write properly— I feel like I’ll be sad the entire time without it. I had to deny, deny, deny other boys before dropping down here— because I really love Richard. Richard is my favourite boy in the world— I love him. He must live for me.”
He passed the notes back, eyes wet.
If you spot this tale on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.
Famine grinned, smug. “You really found a keeper. Too bad she was taken so soon.” He strolled off, and Richard silently flipped him off.
“You’re all forgetting something.” Zero hissed. “The killer wasn’t sent back to their home. They didn’t need to worry about doors. Unless they went inside after, to grab something.”
Jeremiah laughed—again, grating. “I never tried using my powers on the doors. Maybe someone imagined them open. Like Famine.”
“The poison,” Gloxer muttered, eyes narrowing, “I’ve never seen anything like it. But its properties are clear—it spreads through the skin. Roxanne could adapt to anything… even the knife wound. Maybe she chose not to.”
“You’re suggesting she let herself die?” Saraline frowned.
“Whoever the culprit was… they knew what they were doing. Educated in killing. It has to be Famine,” Gloxer growled.
“Don’t count out the others yet. If he never entered, maybe he handed something off.” Saraline folded her arms.
Jeremiah snapped his fingers, eyes glinting. “Wait. What if Paris gave the culprit the weapon? A vial, poison, something only they could use. Zero—go find Paris. Now.” He jabbed his finger like a general.
Zero’s grin spread ear-to-ear. They obeyed, dripping bloodlust.
Outside, night cloaked the sky in glittering stars. Paris stood alone by the stake, overlooking Roxanne’s corpse as the flies hollowed her further. Zero crept up behind and laid a finger on his shoulder.
“Paris. Question.”
“Make it quick.” Paris groaned, gaze fixed skyward. The starlight illuminated his face like a holy portrait.
“Could you give anyone a weapon to murder?”
“The time for that is closed. Only the one I picked had the chance. Whether they used it? That’s up to them. A pillow. A gun. Even poison.”
“How about poison?”
Paris smirked faintly. “That depends on the person, not the victim. I won’t elaborate.”
And then he faded into the night.
Zero’s grin sharpened.
They tilted their head back and screamed at the stars:
“Tomorrow is the trial! I’ve chosen it!”
And then they skipped back toward Psylaiso’s home.