Page 1 of The House of Whispers

Why, hello there.

The reflection of her swaying knife dancing in the night enthralled my attention. I carefully positioned myself, perching atop an aged vacant townhome, observing the scene as it unfolded before me. The rough material of my mask scratched against my skin as my head tilted in curiosity as my eyes peered further in the distant darkness, watching as a mysterious woman held the reflective knife against a tall young man’s throat. He floundered within her grasp, beaten and battered, too weak to defend himself.Oh what easy prey. My heart fluttered as the woman delicately dragged her knife across the fool’s neck, taking her time as the blade stretched from ear to ear. Dark crimson blood spewed from the man’s deep gash, glistening in the moonlight. His life wilted away within seconds.

Marvelous.

The young man’s lifeless body fell forward, slamming face first onto the wet, dirty gravel road, his rust-colored hair kissed lightly by the splatter of his blood. My eyes eagerly returned to the woman, briefly catching what appeared to be a faint smile flashing across the woman’s pale face. She wiped her forehead, unintentionally smearing the dead man’s blood across her skin.

I must see more.

A simple carriage turned a corner galloping along the vacant street, snatching the woman’s attention away. She quickly ducked further into the dark alley, her violet eyes glowing in the night. The carriage continued, trotting past the alley, oblivious to her crime. I quickly leaped from the roof of the townhome, silently landing onto another roof of a shorter, neighboring building with grace. My eyes remained locked on her as I carefully descended down the side of the crumbling, brick wall. I jumped onto the damp, gravel road below, ducking into the shadows of the night observing her in a curious, dead silence.

As the carriage neared the end of the street, the woman launched from the alley to kneel at the dead man’s side. She instinctively checked his pockets, frantically searching as her long raven-black hair fell forward with her haste. Her motions seemed too familiar—almost rehearsed.

Oh, you’ve done this before.

My grin grew beneath my mask. I quietly lurched closer, enthralled by her actions.

The woman quickly stuffed whatever treasures she had discovered into her black tailored pockets. She was distracted, paying no attention as I quietly slithered closer, undetected. As I crossed the street and neared the alley, a faint voice in the distance alerted me to someone approaching. Instinctively, I clung to the brick wall of the building, listening as the delicate voice drew near.

“What’s taking so long?”

A younger fairfolk female with dark hair emerged from further down the alley. Her silver wings held her weight as she hovered mere inches from the damp ground. She moved with a sense of innocence as her wings buzzed with each movement, fluttering and reflecting the silver cast of moonlight—same as the woman’s blade.

“Shhhh!” The woman quickly grabbed the fairfolk by her arms, whisking her to her feet and into the shadows. “Do you want us to get caught, again?!”

Again? Oh, now this is interesting.

My gloved hand rose, a vermillion glow bursting from the center of my palm.

Time to get a closer look.

My fingers snapped, instantly igniting my whole body in a quick flash of fiery light before my whole being became entirely invisible.

“What was that?” The fairy gasped, looking toward my presence. The two women froze, waiting and watching. Stepping around the wall, my being remained undetected as my feet paced along the damp, gravel street of the alley. Ineededto see her face.

“It’s nothing,” the violet eyed woman whispered harshly as she released the fairy. “Now come on, you need to get out of here before someone sees you.” The fairy fluttered her wings, a soft buzz filling the air. “Put those away, Min!” Her silver wings fell down along her back as she lowered her head.

“I’m sorry.” I inched closer as the two women remained facing away from me, completely unaware of who was closing in. Of me.

“It’s alright,” the woman sighed. “You just need to be more careful. There’s a reason I handle the bodies… You’re just not…capable. And that’s okay.”

Bodies?A seasoned killer. How intriguing. The distance between us was shrinking with each thought-out step.

“Can we please go home? I don’t like it out here.” The skittish fairy grabbed the woman’s hand, pleading. She was right to be afraid.

“You go ahead. I need to move his body.” She looked back at the man’s corpse. “Nathair has cleaned up too many of my messes.” The fairy nodded.

“Be careful.” She sprinted delicately down the alley, leaping into the air as her metallic wings carried her through the foggy night air, fading into darkness. The violet-eyed woman’s attention returned to the corpse at her feet. She grabbed the dead man’s arm and began dragging his body along the dirty street toward the dusty brick wall. A faint trail of his blood clinging to them both as she strained to move him. I shadowed her movements, peering through my mask as I observed her every move, enticed by her familiarity with such things.

She groaned through clenched teeth, roughly positioning the man’s body against the wall. The man’s blood had soaked into her dark clothing as she adjusted the position of his limbs. The scent of fresh death clung to her, singing to my senses and drawing me closer with each breath I took. As I stared at the beautiful, mysterious woman, something deep inside me had come alive. There was something about her that had me thirsting to know more.

She crouched next to the man, releasing a heavy sigh as she stared at his color-drained face. I, too, crouched on the other side of the man, inhaling the metallic aroma that covered her while I studied her face. Her eyes glowed like two vibrant, violet-dancing flames in the foggy night. She was a Dwimmer, possessing magik like myself.

The woman tucked her long, wild dark hair behind her ears, sighing as she spoke harshly to the dead man. “I didn’t have a choice, you know?”

Interesting.

“Had you just left,” a soft laugh escaped her ruby red lips, “then I wouldn’t have had to do this. It’syour fault.” Her voice was drenched in sarcasm, tainted with something else. Something dark and sinister. She lifted her knife toward her face, examining the blood-stained blade closely in the moonlight. “Number thirteen…a baker’s dozen. Lucky me.” She wiped the dirty blade across the man’s shirt that clung to his chest.

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