Page 126 of Summer of Sacrifice

THUD

A form slammed against the door, a head of filthy, greasy hair visible through the window, obscuring the face.

Seleste peered in.

Waiting.

Cal tugged at her arm.

The head flung up, curtain of matted hair parting to reveal cracked and blackened teeth. “Tagattttttt,” the woman hissed in the ancient tongue Seleste’s father used in his journals, and her breath caught.

Witch.

Cal’s hand tightened around her bicep. The mad woman smiled, head tilting at odd angles, at disturbing intervals. “Beware the door.,” she sang. “Do not let her through, tagat. She wants the blood. She wants to go home.”

“Seleste!” Cal barked under his breath, tugging her fiercely until her feet unstuck from whatever enchantment held her captive.”

In the next corridor, Madame Durand, visibly shaking, gestured toward an office. Cal and Seleste walked in, pushing the troubling incident in the hallway aside.

“Apologies, Inspector,” Dr. Auclair said once the introductions were made and seats were taken, “but how did you know of Lord Nicolas’ demise? He is resting in our on-site morgue, awaiting his family to be notified.”

“Ah, yes. Well, it turns out Lord Nicolas is not in your morgue. He was found dead in a basement, and what he was awaiting was his turn to be wheeled out onto the platform of the Open Air Anatomical Symposium this morning.”

They didn’t know that Lord Nicolas was next to be experimented on in the open, but the half-truth had its intended effect.

Dr. Auclair sputtered a cough. “Pardon me,” he said when he’d gathered his wits. “I’m afraid that cannot be.”

“Our future Duke of Rochbury was to be slit right open, his heart pulled from his chest and used for unsanctioned and vile experimentation. Before a gathered public audience, no less.”

“I say… I say…” the rotund doctor blubbered.

“Now,” Cal scooted forward in his seat, eyeing Dr. Auclair across his desk, “I don’t know what sort of arrangement you have with the Anatomical Society concerning the purchase of bodies from your morgue, but I assume it’s a good one since you have so many unwanted patients here. However, I don’t believe the peerage will be glad to know one of their own was bought and dissected like a lab rat for all of Merveille to see.”

Sweat dotted the doctor’s brow, and he mopped at it with a handkerchief. “I assure you, I had no knowledge of this.”

“When did Lord Nicolas pass, Doctor?”

“Just this morning.” The answer came too swiftly. A rehearsed lie.

“Mm. That seems very little time to sell him off, doesn’t it? Did he perhaps die a day or two ago, and a new moon is arriving shortly, so you thought you could manage to eke out just one more payment from the Duke of Rochbury?”

“I– I–” Dr. Auclair was quite versed in stuttering, it would seem.

“It’s not uncommon in asylums such as these,” Cal said, reciting the information Seleste had shared on the way to Sager. “It is theft, of course, but unless you have already received such a payment, I see no harm in letting it slide as long as you tell us everything we need to know.”

Dr. Auclair adjusted himself in his chair, a drop of sweat slipping down his temple “Yes. Yes, of course. No payment has yet been received.”

“Fantastic.” Cal clapped his hands together. “There was something else peculiar about the body, Dr. Auclair. He was rather emaciated. Now, that is not so very uncommon here, I’m sure. But I would like to know the full nature of Lord Nicolas’ death, medically speaking.”

“Of course. I can pull his paperwork for you.”

Dr. Auclair jumped from his chair as swiftly as his rotund belly would allow and bustled out of the office shouting for Madame Durand.

When the door shut, Cal turned to Seleste with wide eyes. “My goddess, I’m shaking!” he whispered.

Seleste pushed his shoulder. “You’re unbelievable! He’s terrified!”

Adjusting his collar, Cal blew out a breath. “Keep it together old boy,” he said to himself and Seleste chuckled.

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