Penitence : A Malifaux Murder Mystery

[Chucklemonkey]

Part 1

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Winter in Malifaux offered the same pretence as any of the Earth-side large cities thought Balthazar Johnson, as he wrapped the scarf around his neck and began to do up the toggles of his thick brown duffel-coat.

A dusting of white turned even the grimiest streets into an almost pleasing milieu of timbered gingerbread style houses, food carts, and children too busy pretending they had dragon’s breath to try to pick pockets for change.

Balthazar had lived in this City for long enough though. He knew better than most that no matter how it may appear to the casual observer, Malifaux was no place to wander lonely in the dark, and as the nights drew in it meant that careful planning was in order to make sure you were indoors and safe from the miscreants and monsters who lurked in the shadows. Luckily for him, organisation and planning were Balthazar’s specialty, and that is why he worked here, at the Guild Hall of Records, cataloguing and filing away any documents that were deemed important enough to store. The vast majority of his work was of course maintaining the large numbers of criminal records that seemed to present themselves on a daily basis. Luckily there was not a requirement for an extended storage period for such items.

Balthazar arranged his hat to the required angle, grabbed his ornate ivory handled walking cane from the stand to the left of the door, and took a moment to check himself in the mirror as he once again ran through in his mind the route he would be using to get home to his wife and that stupid, layabout son of his. He would turn left as he exited the building, walking past two junctions until he reached Markham Street, where he would turn right and continue – on the left side of the road – for a good ten minutes, before a left onto Oak Street quickly followed by another left onto Thatchley where he would pass the Church of St Michaels – a church he had heard had been going downhill rapidly since they had drafted in their new preacher – and finally, a right onto his street, Temple-green, where he would have a five minute walk before reaching the front of what he called, perhaps slightly generously, his house.

It was a journey that he only took during the Winter months as it allowed him to travel on some of the City’s main thoroughfares, and assuming the night would be like most others, the most danger he should encounter was the possibility of getting splashed by horses as they trampled through the melting snows by the roadsides. In Summer he would allow himself the luxury of passing Belsey Park, but at this time of year he would leave that to those who had yet to feel the cold steel of a mugger’s blade entering the base of their spine.

All in all it would take approximately twenty five minutes before he would be sitting, warming himself in front of an open fire, maybe with a glass of wine, and with that pleasant thought he pulled the door back and stepped into the frigid evening.

He reached Markham Street without drama, and by his reckoning thought that he may already be around a minute ahead of schedule. He checked his watch to find that he was entirely correct. Now he had the long walk to Oak Street, and despite the number of individuals trying to palm leaflets for the Star Theater’s new show – a blight on the landscape as far as he was concerned – he knew it offered relative safety as a result of the new lighting systems that had been put in place a number of years before.

A group of youths were approaching from further down the street and Balthazar found his pace slowing and his right hand gripping the ram’s head of his cane tighter, ready to strike out as they neared. He could feel the tension in his chest become near unbearable as the four teenage boys got to within five feet of him. And then they passed; ignoring him completely.

He removed a handkerchief from his coat pocket and mopped his brow before replacing it, next to his breath-mints. He was approaching forty-eight years old now and yet he knew that the last three years had not been kind to him. Not simply because of the incident itself, but what it had made him become. A withered old man living in fear and flirting only with the edges of society; a shadow himself.

At that moment he knew something would have to be done, but not now. In any event, the delay would have cost him precious time and he checked his watch again before making the two sharp turns onto Thatchley Street.

He was alone now, this being the quietest part of the journey, and he immediately felt the usual discomfort. He girded himself and strode forward.

It was then that he first heard the noise. A rhythmic heavy banging. He looked along the row of stone houses on his right and saw nothing that could be making such a sound. He moved forward warily, careful to check that nobody was approaching from behind. A further hundred yards onwards and the sound was still present, now though he was able to determine that its source had to be from St Michaels. He took a few more steps forward but was still not at an angle to see into the stone alcove that protected the main entrance from the worst of the elements. He knew that all was not right however, as he could now make out flickering amber lights from behind the stained glass windows. Candles in a church would not normally arouse his concerns but this was the first time he had seen such light emanating from the church on his commute homewards.

If not now, when? He thought to himself. If he allowed the fear to govern his actions for the remainder of his days he knew it would be a joyless life. With that thought, Balthazar approached the heavy oak door that he could now see was being smashed against its housing by the bitter winds.

Despite the fear, and the almost unbearably tight grip of his hand on the cane, Balthazar felt exhilarated as he climbed the three stone steps and entered the Church. He did not know if any genuine dangers lurked within, indeed, the logical part of his mind told him that there would be none. What he did know however, was that this was not normal behaviour for him; at least it had not been for the past three years.

He tilted his head to see past the drawn back velvet curtains guarding the entry to the auditorium. It was clear that the lights he had seen dancing from outside were indeed the standard white wax candles he had imagined, yet it was still too dark to make out much else.

“Hello..... Is anyone there?” He enquired of the darkness.

“Preacher.....anybody?” He was starting to regret being so bold and, had the slightest noise have emanated from within, would have turned tail and fled; but there was none.

Not knowing why, his left hand reached out to touch the curtains as he entered the auditorium and stepped past the back three rows of pews. He could hear something else now, barely audible, but it was there. A drip, and then another, and then another and a muffled sound, like someone in prayer.

“This isn’t funny you know! I don’t think anyone is supposed to be in here, show yourself” before quickly adding “I’m a member of the Guild you know.” He could hear the uncertainty in his own voice.

As he reached the middle of the aisle his field of vision cleared the top of the first pew in front of the sanctuary and his stomach both dropped to the floor and nearly exploded into his mouth simultaneously. The dim candle-light bleached out the colour of a liquid he knew would be a deep scarlet red staining the marbled floor, on either side of which was half of a grown man’s body fully cleaved.

His mind swam and he felt faint, instinctively reaching for the row of seats nearest him, the grip on his cane fell loose and he fell forward only just managing to grasp the oak pew and support himself.

He felt breathless, despite the fact he had not felt his chest work so hard in a considerable time. He raised his head slightly and it was then that he saw the dark hooded figure to his left in the front row, seated and head bowed as if in prayer.

Balthazar tried to speak but found himself unable to do so. As the figure began to rise from its seated position Balthazar’s eyes were locked upon it and yet he could not utter a sound and as it began to turn towards him, even Balthazar’s eyes would no longer obey him as all around him became black and he felt himself fall towards the cold stone floor.

Edited October 12, 2011 by Chucklemonkey

[Ebonstar]

Dun dun dun!!!

Great intro so far- it has really drawn me in.

[Chucklemonkey]

Dun dun dun!!!

Great intro so far- it has really drawn me in.

Thanks very much. Once I start one I do tend to rattle through a story quickly so it won't be long till part 2 is up.

[Thechosenone]

its written well. the thing that i appreciate most is the readability. you strike me as someone who reviews what they write and takes time to edit before posting.

[Chucklemonkey]

I had known Balthazar for years; or at least I thought I had. Standing with him now at the back of St Michaels it became clear how much he had changed. I had neglected our friendship, and now, seeing the fearful, frail old man before me, I was truly regretful.

It also made me realise how selfish I had been over the last few months, since my last job had ended so disastrously. It had taken me weeks to even leave the house following the funerals, and even then I have not been particularly good company; I found even Rosie my housekeeper had become increasingly short tempered with me. Through it all though one person had stood by me and it was for that very reason – and the fact that Balthazar’s name had come up in conversation – that I stood here now.

When Jackson had come calling at the door, my first instinct, and one I usually followed these days, had been to simply ignore it, but when he shouted that he had left the pub to come and fetch me then I knew that, at least for him, it had to be serious,.

So it would turn out to be.

He had told me that he had been in the Lion and Lamb and had been rudely interrupted by Henry, his department’s messenger and after hearing the reason he was being summoned on his day off, had raced to over to enquire if I was interested in getting back in the saddle. His pleadings and the mention of the witness had, as already detailed, caught my attention and so here I was, carefully watching what was taking place before me.

It was fairly clear that something had put the frighteners on the Guild. As we had arrived Jackson had been surprised to find his Captain and at least four rank and file guards on scene and had passed me the look that this must be important. He and the Captain were surveying the scene and in truth, I was surprised at how efficiently the pair seemed to be working and decided that I would get all the information I needed when Jackson returned. Taking a back-seat also allowed me to gently question Balthazar about what had occurred.

“And you definitely didn’t see the intruders face or anything that may help you identify him?” I prodded.

“I’m afraid not Stryder, as much as it shames me to admit, I was near paralysed by fear and I passed out before I could see anything” came the weary response.

“You mentioned that the figure started to make its way towards you, I take it he stood in order to do so?”

He took a moment to consider this.

“Yes, indeed so.”

“And could you tell how tall the intruder was?” I continued,

“Well, i’m not good with guessing heights but not tall. Certainly smaller than me, and I’m not very tall, what with the stoop.”

At that point Jackson interrupted. “Thanks you for staying so long and answering our questions Mr Johnson, you can go now.”

As Balthazar left I told him I would call in on him soon, the smile that was returned, while pleasant enough, indicated he believed no such thing would happen.

I turned back and addressed Jackson, “so what do we have?”

“An absolute bloody mess is what we have. Thank god I lined my stomach with Guinness” he chuckled. “The dead guy is the preacher, goes... or rather went...by the name of Creber. He’s been split clean in two. Buzzkill is trying to line it up as a nephilim attack, but I don’t think so.”

Buzzkill was the rather less than complimentary name he used to describe his Captain. “Why not?” I asked.

“Well, lots of reasons really. It looks like a saw did the job to me. Not a clean cut but it looks like the same tool was used the whole time. There certainly isn’t the mangled flesh you would expect with a beast attack.”

I let myself smile inwardly.

“What the hell are you laughing at Stryder?”

Evidently the smile had escaped. No matter how stupid Jackson pretended to be, it was clear he was learning, and learning fast. I was proud of that.

“No reason. Anyway, why is this guy so important that it brought your good friend the Captain down here.”

“Well, that’s the interesting part. Creber seems to be just an ordinary preacher, nothing particularly noteworthy about him.”

I’m not sure what made him so happy at this point but a grin had spread across his face.

“What is interesting is the fact that he seems to be the third or fourth victim of this Nephilim, the others all being at least moderately ranked members of my very own Guild.” He stated.

“Why hadn’t we heard about it till now?” I asked. “No wait; that much is obvious I suppose, can’t have the populous knowing that your Guild superiors are as vulnerable as anyone else in this hell-hole. Anyway, why are you smiling about this?”

Jackson’s grin grew wider still. “Well, I’ve never chased a serial killer before and besides, we are about to go and visit another victim, barely a block from here. He went by the name of Mo.”

With that Jackson left the church whistling as he made his way to my horse and carriage.

I had a feeling it was going to be a long night.

[Thechosenone]

I enjoy different perspectives and tenses in stories. Its why i usually write present tense. I like youre choice of first person narrative.

[edonil]

Hm. I like it. Didn't really like the original post, Balthazar isn't my kind of character...but I'm liking Jackson a good deal.

[Chucklemonkey]

The two men sat in deep, worn-green leather armchairs by a roaring fireplace in a private club of which they were both members. Between them was a low mahogany table, polished to the point where the reflection of their respective brandy glasses could be clearly seen.

Neither would describe the other man as a friend. Despite this, they were however work colleagues and as such it aroused the suspicions of no-one in the club that they should be seen together warming themselves and sharing some words of wisdom at the end of another long working day.

Of course if the casual observer were to delve a little deeper into the social dynamics taking place before them they would see an entirely different picture. Indeed one was deeply fearful of his companion; the corresponding emotion returned was something akin to contempt, and neither emotion was hidden particularly far behind the civilised facade.

The thinner of the two men, who was garbed in the crimson red uniform of only the most senior guild officer, sat, very aware of his body language, with his back firmly against the rear of his chair as he softly asked the question he had been dancing around since they had entered nearly ten minutes previously.

As he had thought, his companion, a portly man wearing the royal blue uniform of what essentially amounted to the Guild civil service together with a pair of horn-rimmed spectacles, had to lean forward in order to try to keep himself within earshot. “I’m sorry sir, I didn’t quite catch that.”

“What I said was that I suppose, as usual, you have very little explanation for your complete level of incompetence?”

The bespectacled man lowered his head until only his reflection from the drinking tale remained in his field of vision, but before he could utter a word of apology the more senior of the two – at least in terms of rank – continued speaking.

“I am so very disappointed in you. Granted, my expectations from the start were not particularly high, but considering your position, together with what I assumed was a relatively easy assignment, I did rather think you would be able to carry it out to a satisfactory level. What in the Governor’s name happened last night?”

“Well sir, I’m not entirely sure, the whole operation went slightly off-piste” came the reply; without eye contact.

“If I needed someone to state the bloody obvious, then that would have been in our contract would it not? What I need is someone with the ability to keep an operation on track, with skills such as leadership, flexibility and intelligence. So far, you are coming up short on all counts and I feel that I am already showing you a great deal of patience. It is lucky for you that when we made you the handler a bond seems to have developed or I would have you replaced in an instant.”

“Yes sir, I understand that completely sir. I can assure you that no such thing will happen again, lessons will be learnt. When the job is done we’ll make the snatch immediately to prevent such out of school activities.”

“See that you do Thompson. Still, if there was one plus point to last night at least the original re-mit was carried out. Our asset does seem quite capable all things considered?”

“Very capable sir”, replied Thompson quickly. Thompson, although he could never admit it to anyone had in the few months he had been in place on this operation had already grown quite fond of his charge, and against all of his logical judgements he felt a swell of pride at the compliment given.

The superior officer continued to address Thompson “I think, given last night’s events we will need to hasten our timescale somewhat, there is still plenty of work to be done after all” At that point he withdrew a manila envelope from his inside pocket and threw it down on the table where it slid over the waxed veneer, Thompson only just managing to catch it before it fell. “As usual everything that you need to know and do is clear. I would rather the operation goes exactly to plan this time. There will be consequences otherwise.”

“Yes sir, no further problems will be encountered, I can assure you of that.” Thompson replied.

“Somehow Thompson your assurance fills me with less confidence than I would like. Now please leave and get yourself familiar with the task at hand. I would rather enjoy sitting here drinking more if I did not have to look at you further.”

“Of course sir, I’ll be on my way.” With that Thompson raised himself from his chair, an action that seemed to take more and more effort with each passing week he thought to himself, and made his way towards the exit, which from the outside appeared as one of the many ordinary houses in this part of town.

..................................................................

The day had gone well for Edward Chapman, first year guard. Not only had he completed his latest assignment to the satisfaction of his instructing officer, but he also knew that the work he was carrying out was not standard procedure. After carefully working the conversation around with his superior, it had become clear that his assignment was of the highest importance, and that he would be personally ear-marked for great things should he manage to continue the quality of work he was carrying out.

Granted, he was not permitted to discuss these assignments with the friends he had gone through training with, but it was surely a small price to pay when he considered that success would surely mean he would become their superior officer double quick. He had carefully placed the documents he had been provided with in his leather satchel when his shift ended and decided that tonight would be a good evening to meet with those same friends in what had become their regular drinking haunt.

Just because he had made his first steps onto the ladder, didn’t mean he had to abandon them all just yet.

[edonil]

I know this is a cliche, but it's such a good one...

"And the plot thickens..."

I'm really enjoying this, Chucklemonkey. You're doing a masterful job of keeping me interested, and I'm no more a student of mystery novels than you are of scifi or fantasy. Keep it up, I've got a few guesses as to what's going on, and I'm eager to see if I'm proved wrong...

[Thechosenone]

I enjoy the fireside chat, its a good mix on innocent imagery with callous dialog. thank you sir. Good read