Chapter 51

Chapter 51

More than a dozen corpses lay neatly in a row on mobile cots, each one covered by a clean white sheet.

There was no reason to ever see so many dead bodies at once in ordinary life; the sight of them lying side by side wasn’t just unsettling—it was enough to make the hair on the back of the neck stand on end.

After offering a moment of silent respect, Rose and James approached the line of shrouded corpses.

“Rose. Are you afraid?” James asked quietly.

“What do you think my job is? I’m a necromancer. It means I’m always working alongside death.”

James gave her a skeptical look. “You don’t actually summon real spirits, though.”

“Well, sure, but let’s just say I do.”

She tried to sound dismissive, but her voice and her steps were both far too tense; her act of easy deception with the guard earlier was nowhere to be seen now.

James watched her with a small frown. “If you really can’t do it, I’ll find Betty myself.”

“No, it’s fine. I said I’d do it, so I will.”

Rose reached into her pocket and pulled out the Revis detection kit. Even before she’d fully activated it, an intense blue light began to shine.

“Hm. I didn’t expect this.” She turned to James with a troubled look. “It’s showing four Revises within a five-meter radius.”

The slim wand-like device displayed the number 4 clearly on its surface.

James raised an eyebrow. “Is that thing working properly?”

“Of course it is! Do you know who made it?” Rose’s lips pushed out in a sullen pout as she exhaled deeply, glancing at the shrouded bodies. “One of them is you, so that means three of the corpses here are Revises.”

“Three among them… seems like Revises aren’t as rare as I thought.”

“No. That’s not it at all. Statistically this shouldn’t be possible.”

She forced herself to calm down as she moved from cot to cot, waving the detector over each corpse.

Logos. Logos. This one too—Logos.

James’s suspicion about the kit’s reliability started to feel contagious; Rose nearly questioned it herself before she finally pinpointed two responses from an unidentified male and a city laborer’s corpse.

After methodically checking every cot in the row, she finally reached the last one.

“…Betty.”

The pale foot sticking out carried a tag listing her name, age, and cause of death.

Heart damage and massive blood loss.

Rose closed her eyes tightly; even though they’d only spoken briefly, Betty’s living face came rushing back to her in painful detail.

James placed his large hands gently on her shoulders. “You all right?”

She drew in a shuddering breath. “Yes. I’m okay. I can do this.”

She forced herself to take a long, steady inhale, then activated the detector. Soon enough, the word ‘Revis’ lit up unmistakably on the device’s surface.

“As I thought. Betty was a Revis.”

Her theory had been correct, but there was no triumph in it; she couldn’t rejoice, not when there were three Revis among the bodies in this room alone. The odds were far too slim to be mere coincidence.

Rose tucked the kit back into her pocket, turning to James with a somber expression. “We need to check the autopsy logs.”

When they stepped back into the dimly lit hallway, the glow from weak bulbs cast a sickly pall over the rows of closed doors on either side. Rose and James opened them one by one, peering in quickly.

“Found it. Autopsy log.”

In the last autopsy room they checked, James pulled a file folder from a table drawer. Its thick cardboard cover was clearly marked with the week’s date and the words ‘Autopsy Log.’

Flipping quickly through the pages, they soon found Betty’s record. James handed it to Rose so she could read more easily.

Betty Jones. 25. Maid. Cause of death: massive blood loss due to heart injury. Evidence of a stab wound from behind with a sharp implement.

Rose read the dry, clinical phrasing aloud, her mouth uncomfortably dry, then her eyes caught something that made them sharpen.

Note: white powder found on clothing. Presumed to be chalk dust.

James’s voice was low but urgent. “Rose—the hour’s almost up.”

“Wait! Just a bit more!”

She flipped hurriedly through more pages, paper rustling as she searched.

“Found it! Unidentified male, estimated 40s. Heart. Both upper and lower garments had chalk dust. City laborer, male, 43. Also heart. Chalk dust on shoe soles and trousers…”

All three victims, including Betty, shared the same cause of death and the same strange residue.

As I suspected.

Rose lifted her eyes, brimming with certainty, to meet James’s gaze.

“The circumstances point to a serial killing by a Mythos.”

James’s voice was measured. “Like Robert Burns.”

“Yes. Exactly.”

He replaced the autopsy log carefully in the drawer, then looked at her steadily. “Be honest with me. Does it seem like they’re connected to that cult?”

Rose hesitated, her gaze flickering before she answered softly. “…I can’t say no. But I can’t be sure either.”

“Don’t hedge.”

“It’s not a lie,” she protested, meeting his eyes with quiet stubbornness. “I really don’t know yet. We’d have to question a suspect first…”

She looked up at him, eyes just slightly wide, voice cautious. “I’m not lying.”

Really. It wasn’t technically a lie.

Let’s say there’s about a 99% chance they’re involved?

She swallowed down the guilt rising in her throat. For now, she would let that 1% of doubt carry her conscience.

Thick fog lay over Frehen Street in the late afternoon two days later. In the middle of the street, James—disguised with a shaggy brown wig and a neat false mustache—was setting up a fortune-telling tent. The waterproof canopy was trimmed with cheap, glittering tassels, and stars and moons dangled from the edges.

“James, you have to thread that on the left.”

“Understood.”

“Ah, the post is leaning to the right.”

“…”

Rose smiled brightly.

“Yes! Perfect! Good job.”

James groaned quietly as she ordered him around.

“Do people really come here for readings when it looks this slapdash?”

“Of course they do.”

James looked skeptical.

“The tent is one thing, but why do I have to change clothes?”

“So you’ll look the part. It’s no different from a police uniform or nurse’s uniform.”

Rose wore a gaudy purple satin costume with a sheer veil. James thought it looked cheap, and whenever her pale skin showed through, he wanted to cover her up with something darker and more modest.

“I’ve even built up a good list of regulars in this outfit.”

The jangling accessories added to his discomfort.

“Whether it’s fortune-telling or necromancy, it’s all show business. You know how important a convincing costume is for trust, don’t you?”

She looked him over slowly. James’s robe was made from the same cheap fabric as hers but clearly too small for him. The sleeves were short, and the hem hit oddly high.

“What’s with that look?” James asked stiffly.

“It suits you.”

James was so surprised he nearly broke a tent pole.

“I’ll handle the customers myself. You focus on spreading the word and asking around.”

“Will you be all right alone?”

“Do you think I’ve been working this line of business for nothing all these years?”

Rose believed Grace was tied to this case somehow. Betty had said she first met Grace here, through a free reading. Rose hoped other vendors might have seen her.

Her plan was to lure Grace out by making her come looking for Rose.

“Hold on.”

James pulled her inside the tent and draped his oversized robe around her shoulders.

“Hey! What are you doing?”

“This looks better. I doubt anyone wants to see a fortune-teller with bare shoulders.”