Chapter Thirty-Four: The Attic Siren

“I told you, I was sent by the One-Eyed Lady Immortal. Isn’t that enough?”

The youth replied, “Listen, I run a business here, not a charity. That Dark Citizen gave me quite a bit of compensation—why would I betray him so easily?”

Salvador said, “We’re officers among the Rangers. If we work well together, you’ll have our gratitude in the future.”

The young man smiled. “Very well, I might want to get a few people out of prison someday.” He snapped his fingers, and a tall youth brought over a stack of photographs. “If you ever hear the name Boss Abi, you’ll know I’m the one coming to find you.”

I looked at the photos. Each was of a house, built from black coffin wood.

Abi explained, “That Dark Citizen wanted to find all the houses in Black Coffin Town rented out by the Blood Pact Gang, but there are simply too many. He said certain houses felt especially sinister, so I gave him these.”

There were quite a few photos—eight in all, each with a detailed map on the back.

I said, “We’ll split up. If anyone finds something suspicious, we’ll meet at the tavern in town…”

Abi interjected, “No need to make it so complicated. We have the most advanced communication devices—stuff even Rangers can’t always get their hands on.”

He handed us three Vagha-brand headsets. Their design had been improved, looking much different from before, yet still reminding me of the past.

Abi said, “These are very convenient. The three of you can talk instantly, and there’s no need to worry about being tapped. That’ll be six hundred gold coins, thank you for your business.”

I cursed inwardly, but had no choice but to pay. He taught us how to use them.

After leaving the small cabin, we gathered at a nearby tavern and divided up the locations from the photos. I said, “Sammy, don’t act rashly. Stay in touch with me and Miersai at all times.”

Salvador looked a bit disgruntled. “Lankey, I’m a Ranger elite, not some green rookie. If something happens, I’ll judge for myself.”

I said, “The last time you judged for yourself, you lured Lamia into an enemy trap. Remember?”

He flushed, then paled, and lowered his head in agreement.

We made our plans and set off separately.

…

I stared at a three-story building. It was built in the classical Eastern style. At first glance, there was nothing unusual compared to the previous two houses I’d checked. But as I drew closer, the Underworld Fire orb in my arms began to tremble faintly.

According to the Yaochi’s theory, someone here had left traces of Underworld Fire.

I swallowed an Odin’s Eye pill. My senses expanded—I sensed someone on the top floor, a woman, apparently crying. My sense of danger grew sharper. I instinctively drew Mjolnir, silent lightning forming a longsword. I crept up the stairs, the floorboards creaking beneath my feet. She knew I was coming, and that made me feel as if I’d swallowed a fly.

The corridor felt impossibly narrow, like a never-ending maze. At its end seemed to yawn an abyss straight to hell, making me want to turn and run.

This woman must be the murderer—the one who killed Rita. And she couldn’t have only one crime on her hands; who knows how many unspeakable acts could be laid at her feet.

She had to die—the sooner, the better.

I entered the room. She was a strange woman: short black hair, finely carved features, sad red eyes, lips like crimson tassels, skin white as snow, a slender figure dressed in antique military garb. She was beautiful, but made me feel sick, as if I were coming down with some contagious disease that would rot my flesh and kill me horribly if I so much as looked at her.

She knelt on the ground before the corpse of a man in his twenties, who had died a gruesome death—bitten alive, his body covered in tooth marks.

“Stay where you are! Hands up!” I barked.

She cried out urgently, “It wasn’t me!” There were still tears in her eyes, but she couldn’t fool me.

“I said don’t move!” I shouted, drawing my Ranger’s handcuffs.

She erupted in violence, hurling a wooden table at me. I sliced it cleanly in two with my lightning sword, not making a sound, and sent my shadow to attack her. She shouted, “It really wasn’t me, I’m sorry!” She leapt to the ceiling, springing back at me with a kick. I parried with “Cherry Blossom,” my shadow and I flanking her. Her skills were formidable, on par with Bella’s. We were at a standstill—she couldn’t hurt me, nor I her, and she seemed to be holding back.

Gradually, my head cleared. I realized something was wrong. I had no proof she was the killer; she was only involved because Underworld Fire emanated from her. I remembered what Yaochi had told me: Underworld Fire breeds prejudice, whether she’s innocent or not.

“Give yourself up,” I said. “You’ll get a fair trial.”

“For me, there is no such thing as justice,” she replied. Her fingers flashed, and in an instant, I saw streaks of fire fly toward me like shotgun blasts. I used Iron Lotus, spinning my lightning sword to block the flames. She bit her lip, Underworld Fire flaring around her until she seemed to flicker in and out of sight. If not for the clarity of Odin’s Eye, I’d have lost track of her movements.

Into the Vagha headset, I said, “I’ve encountered a powerful enemy—need backup!”

Her face changed. She tried to flee through the window, but at that moment, the dead man on the floor rose up, his wounds healing, his body sprouting thick, sharp feathers. He let out a chilling screech, turning into a harpy-like abomination.

“A malformed corpse?” I gasped.

She sobbed, “Beloved! No, no!” The creature lunged, sinking its teeth into her neck. She went limp, hoisted overhead like a rag doll, and the monster whipped its head back and forth as if mauling a rat.

I severed the abomination’s head with one stroke. The woman crashed onto a bookshelf, crying, “No, beloved! Don’t!”

“He’s not your—” I began, but before I could finish, the monster rose again, headless, emitting a hollow sound from its neck.

She said, “Damn, he’s calling his pack!”

“He has companions?” I asked.

Another harpy-thing crawled in through the window, jaws wide to bite. I killed it with a stroke of my lightning sword. Then the ceiling caved in and a third crashed through. It drove a talon into my side—white-hot pain radiated outward. I roared, repelled it with Iron Lotus, then killed it with Stone Fir.

She said, “Sorry I can’t help. Their fangs are deadly poison to me.”

More and more of the monsters appeared. I alternated Iron Lotus and Stone Fir, but still couldn’t avoid being slashed—my wounds itched and burned with blood. I fought with all my might, driving them back for now, but from the sounds outside, more were closing in.

“You need to help me—how do I counteract the poison?” I yelled.

She said, “Underworld Fire—I just need a bit.”

I threw her Lady Yaochi’s Underworld Fire orb, hoping it would work. She touched it. “Yes.” She hugged it tight, as if in prayer before a meal.

I fended off two more monsters, but was caught off-guard by the third and fourth. Knocked down, a monster stabbed its beak at my head. I had no time for last words, but the woman’s Underworld Fire burst forth like a rain of arrows, slaying the abominations at once.

She pulled me to my feet. “We have to get out of here.”

“Why are there so many?” I demanded.

“They never truly die. They just pretend to be statues,” she said.

I remembered how abandoned gardens in Black Coffin Town were full of hideous stone sculptures. So that’s what they really were. I watched as the pieces of the slain monsters reassembled, hardening into cold, lifeless stone—no doubt ready to become ferocious again in a few days.

She cast one last sorrowful look at the room, and we broke through the window. I saw a small flock of harpy-things hovering in midair.

“They can smell me from three hundred meters away. They’re born to feed on me—I must be hidden somewhere airtight,” she said.

“You don’t need to breathe?” I asked.

“No.”

“Are you a bloodkin? Or a revenant?”

She looked at me in surprise, then after a moment said, “A revenant.”

Suddenly it occurred to me—perhaps I could use my shadow, together with Helsing’s Shepherd, to shield her from leaking Underworld Fire.

I made a few feinting strokes around her; the psychic blade and shadow encircled her. She turned and studied it for a few seconds. “It’s working. Now let’s hide and slip away quietly.”

Into the Vagha headset, I said, “Situation’s changed—meet me at the tavern.”

Salvador asked, “Lankey, are you alright? Did you catch the suspect?”

“Maybe not a suspect—maybe a victim. In any case, don’t come,” I answered, injecting a medical stimulant into my arm. This was one of Black Coffin’s medical marvels, rapidly healing wounds and restoring strength.

Gritting my teeth, I shielded the revenant woman, as if holding onto someone dangling over a cliff. My fingers ached and tingled, tendons quivering, muscles on the verge of tearing. Only after we’d put five hundred meters between us and the harpy-creatures did I finally let the psychic blade dissipate.

She said, “Malformed corpses are our kin, but they’re monsters that feed on our Underworld Fire.”

I looked at her, still unable to suppress my disgust and suspicion, convinced that touching her would infect me with some horrific disease. But I forced down my revulsion and extended my hand.

“Fishbone Lankeynus, Captain of the Rangers.”

She shook my hand. It took all my willpower not to pull away.

“Solaise,” she said.

“The corpse in the house… was that Krolov’s work?” I asked.

She replied, “How did you know?”

“I was investigating that bastard—that’s what brought me here. He’s got at least two murders on his head now.”

Solaise shook her head. “He’s a ruthless killer. What you’ve seen is only the tip of the iceberg.”

“I don’t doubt it. The other victim was a Ranger major—Rita. Do you know her?”

“I’ve never seen her,” Solaise said, thinking a moment. “But I think I heard the name once from ‘Dead Bell.’”