Chapter One-To Make Time One Must First Kill It
Robert was getting impatient, he took a last gulp of tea, which was now stone cold and looked around once more for the Doctor. However he saw nothing. His brow creased, he did not mind waiting in the shadows for hours on end, but twenty minuets in the rich district of the city made him nervous. No cloak here, no hood covering his face and nothing to do but wait. He called to the waitress and asked for another tea.
“Would your like to try some Earl Grey that we just got in?” asked the young girl. Robert looked at her with his deep sunken brown eyes.
“No, Russian Caravan will do fine.” He answered; personally he had never been a fan of new blends and was a fan of this particular green tea. How this place managed to make money from selling just one drink he would never know, given that people just sat and drank doing little else. He felt that people in the rich district must have too much time on their hands to spend a day drinking tea.
Two cups of Russian Caravan later, he saw the Doctor make his way through the crowd, dressed in a dirty white suit and a brown leather shoes holding a folder under his left arm. His right arm carried an oak walking stick, with a gold head in the shape of a haws beak. It was once attractive but now it was battered and chipped. Doctor Myseff Morati was a man of foreign parents who had spent many years in the Jungle of Passam. However he spoke with a public school boy accent due to his English education. He had worked with Robert for a great many years and was one of the most intelligent men that Robert had met. Unfortunately he failed to do anything without great motivation and was, Robert thought looking at the cups on his table, annoyingly disorganised. However some of Roberts’s annoyance seeped out as he looked upon the face of his friend, his countenance was one of fear and excitement.
“Sorry I’m late I missed the train.” Apologised Myseff.
“Train, what did you need a train for.” Asked Robert confused.
“Look at this.” The Doctor laid in front of Robot the folder; Robert picked it up and began to read. It was Entitled Post-mortem of the Body of Luke Smith it continued with many longwinded words. “Look at the pencilled bit” encouraged Myseff. And so it would seem that in fact the victim was not injured, apart from superficially by the cut, however, strangely and without explanation, the blood stopped flowing within minuets of the injury. Not only did it stop flowing the blood also started to dry and become solid. The process continues even now and as it does the skin around the areas develops a deep red rash.
Cause of death-Unknown (Suspected poison)
Doctor Freidhart Bennett Key
“Why didn’t you do the post-mortem?” Asked Robert.
“I needed a second opinion to see if I missed anything.”
“Did you”
“No. And yes. Freidhart was as fascinated as I have been. He drew the same conclusions, suspected poison the blood drying and so on. Then he looked at the eyes and saw they were purple. Then he looked in the mouth and” here Myseff paused for dramatic effect “he had no tongue.”
“What.”
“I know, and from what you said he didn’t have time to chew it off or anything, but there was no evidence he ever had one. Yet from the fact he never bloody shut up he definitely had one.”
“Why didn’t you notice it?”
“Well I was somewhat distracted by the red rashes, frozen blood and purple eyes. Even Freidhart didn’t notice till’ morning that’s why it’s not in the report.”
“Then why did you make me read the report Myseff?”
“Just so you know I was right about everything else, the thing is,” Myseff looked straight at Robert eyes wide, fearful “this thing just gets stranger and stranger. There is a power here we don’t understand and I’m not sure how much longer we can protect and hide ourselves from it.” He got up and made to leave.
“Where are you going?” Asked Robert
“To check the other mouths, make sure its constant.” He nodded at Robert and left. Robert’s eyes followed him until he disappeared into the crowd, his heart grew somewhat heavy as he saw the way the Doctors back seemed more bent than usual and how his eyes had been so scared, how his age was showing and how he had seemed so much more tired. This was his fault, he had brought Myseff into it and now its strain was telling. It was telling on Robert to, yet he showed it less and the Doctor had always been so strong. Robert decided to thank his friend sincerely the next time he saw him. The tea had been drunk long ago; Robert rose fumbled money onto the table and left swiftly to his next appointment.
The rich district had always worried Robert, the crowds were large but they moved more slowly, especially in the day when the women were out and the men working, they watched more closely as they had little else to do. The people in Café’s had little to do but drink tea and watch the people who passed them. Few noticed Robert, he could carry himself well enough and had clothes suitable for the occasion, yet he knew that if they cared to look closely enough they would see the scares of the face, and the knockoff nature of his clothes. It wasn’t that Robert was ill bred but he had lived a life these people would never understand and would never care to.
Yet despite the worry and snobbery, Robert loved the buildings and the whole feeling. The poorer districts and bigger parts of the city stunk, the people where uneducated and selfish, the buildings were falling apart and rotting at the foundations and the crowds had eyes only for themselves and the few pence they would earn that day. Robert new well enough that for one to exist so must the other and he saw the lack of fairness yet each time he came here he forget social justice and thought that all of it was worth it for the beautiful buildings and grand architecture that surrounded him. Yes they were precocious; yes the stinking worker attempting to feed his family, whom he so unfairly despised, built the buildings he so admired. The buildings were built upon the broken backs on the workers, when he wasn’t here he hated that fact, when here he felt guilty for ignoring it.
Suddenly Robert stopped. He felt eyes on the back of his head, and had a cold feeling in his heart. He looked left and right to check for escapes and diversions, he noticed an ally between two buildings on his right. On his left was the bank of the river. He could escape on his left or he could fight and kill on the right. His anger at the deaths of his allies and the innocents this faction had killed whelmed inside him. He moved to the right and entered the ally. It was darker here but he could se fine despite the shadows of the massive buildings to either side.
He knew he was right about being followed as two people dressed in black entered after him. One smiled at him sadistically. His face was craggy with a nose to big for it. The other was younger, attractive and scared to death. Robert attacked first, he knew he had to or they would toy with him. He kicked the craggy one in the chest and fell forward onto the younger one. He heard a thick thud as the boy’s head hit the pavement. He could be dead, but the other one had barley been hurt as he rose to tower over Robert.
The man pulled out a sword and smiled once again at Robert, time slowed as the man took his time, enjoying the absolute terror Robert felt.
obviously we will find out more about appearance later on?
