Page 9 of The House of Whispers

Tick-tock. His voice echoed in my head.

Leave me be.My thoughts replied.

Never.

“You look terrible.” Nathier sat across from me on a tufted lounge chair and adjusted his scratchy police uniform. I had just finished my shift and was trying to keep myself functioning with a hot cup of bitter coffee in hand. I had spent most of the night replaying everything, worried that Jakkal would surprise me with another hauntingly unexpected visit.

“The glorious perks of my job, Nathier.” I raised my eyebrows, toasting my cup at him before taking another sip. “Bet you wish you had my job,” I teased.

Nathair nervously chuckled. Nathair and I had an interesting friendship—if that’s what one could call it. We both shared an unwavering amount of love for Min, willing to do anything to protect her, including working together to hide my crimes. Outside of my sister, our friendship fell flat.

“Min said you wanted to talk to me. Is everything alright? You’ve been noticeably absent these past few weeks, missing work entirely for days at a time. That’s not like you, Casper.” His hunter green eyes watched me as I silently took another swig of the hot coffee.

“Casper, what’s going on?” He reached his left hand out, touching mine. Olive scales covered his bay-colored hand, reflecting the warm candle light from the burning chandelier above. The sentiment was odd, but I knew he was worried for Min. And I was going to use that fear to puppet him to do what I needed.

I sighed heavily.Time to play my own games.

“I’m worried about Min and the Whisps.” He seemed taken back by my statement.

“Why would you be worried? With the use of your dark magik, you’ve always been able to protect them—no matter the costs.” He looked around the room, leaning his head forward as he whispered the last part with a raised eyebrow. “And I’ve always helped keepyouout of trouble.” I tugged my hand back from beneath his.

“Not that I asked for it.” I huffed under my breath. “I could easily handle things myself.” I took another sip.

“You never have been one to ask for help, always playing the hero, thinking you can carry that weight upon your back. Alone.” I was no hero. I was a murderer. I’d murdered people as a child and all through my life. And now I was a murderer on command, killing at Madame Chepi’s behest. And over the years, Detective Nathier had become my accomplice helping to cover my crimes as long as it meant protecting Min. If anyone ever found out that he’d helped me hide my crimes, he’d burn alongside me.

“Madame Chepi doesn’t want me speaking of it, but—”

“Then don’t.” Nathair stopped me before I could finish my sentence. His voice turned brittle, knowing the risk of upsetting our Madame.

“Nathier, please,” I begged, leaning across the table, “I’m worried we’re not doing enough to protect the Whisps. Or Min. There’s more we could be doing to keep the house safe from The Ripper.”

Nathair watched me closely, his posture hardening as he spoke. “You needn’t worry about The Ripper much longer.”

My eyes studied him as he fumbled the police cap in his hands, refusing to make eye contact.

He knew something. “Why would you say that?” He cleared his throat, obviously trying to keep his mouth shut. “What do you know?” I pressed him, narrowing my eyes as his met mine.

Nathier quickly peeled his gaze away and stood up, adjusting the collar buttoned tightly around his neck. Scales peaked from beneath the thick collar, his skin clashing against the faded, dull blue fabric.

“I shouldn’t be discussing it as it’s an ongoing case, but…”

“But what?” I rushed to my feet, placing my coffee cup on a small end table.

Nathair sighed. “The Ripper? Whoever it is, they sent a handwritten note to the Bedeville police.”

“What did it say?” I followed Nathair as he adjusted his coat and began toward the front doors of the brothel.

“I haven’t been able to see it myself, but from what I’m told, they confessed to numerous murders that have occurred here in Bedeville. Something about ‘clipping a lady’s ear.’ The note is being examined and looked over by another detective as we speak. He’s checking for fingerprints and comparing the handwriting to samples we’ve gathered from suspects. If we can match a fingerprint or the handwriting, then we might actually have a chance to catch this killer.” He wiggled his scale-covered hands into his weathered leather gloves.

A note? Why would Jakkal leave a note if he was worried about getting caught? Was this a new game of his?

“Don’t fear, this nightmare will be over soon, Casper. I promise.” He patted my shoulder, exiting the brothel and turning onto the busy street. The front door swung shut, leaving me mind-boggled.

No one else knew it, but this nightmare had only just begun.

I returned to my chair, finishing off my coffee as I glanced around the dimly lit parlor of the brothel. Deep ruby-colored, floral damask wallpaper plastered the faded wooden walls, peeling from time and the lack of proper upkeep. Thick, heavy maroon curtains draped along the large curved windows blocking out any light from the world outside. Velvet-tufted couches and lounge chairs filled the room, partnered with dark mahogany tables, all topped with burning candles and fresh bouquets of flowers. Madame Chepi’s personal touch.

Exhaustion had caught up with me. I rose from the lounge chair and turned, slamming into a young woman spilling her tray of wine all over my ivory blouse as my cup shattered around me.

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