Clocks In A Spiral
Dani seeks to preform an exorcism in a town that loves its demons.
A room full of clocks and compasses that all point in every direction all at once.
A blot of cloudy black-purple ink spreading out in a puddle of water.
All of the clocks chime at once, the ring and blare and scream but no one comes to answer.
In another time and place it is raining quite heavily, fat droplets pummel the cobblestone path as thunder rocks the clouds. Dani McAleighen plucks a pocket watch from her waistcoat. Just past midnight. And just as well, she isn’t due to be at the count’s manor for another hour. She motions for the carriage driver to halt.
“I’ll walk the rest of the way.”
“In this weather?” The man’s voice is a pitch or two higher than when she’d spoken to him prior.
“Indeed.” She offers a firm nod.
“At least take ye a lantern!”
“Not necessary.” She declines. Not necessary and rather quite a disservice where elusiveness is concerned. And stealth is a top priority when the aura of the village twists and distorts itself in the ominous way that it so often likes to do.
She steps down from the carriage, her boots sink into the mud, at the hems, her skirts grow damp already.
She slings her mauser over her shoulder and crooks her hat. “Good night and travel well.” She drops a handful of coins into his tip tin. “Avoid Cranecloud Rode.”
“The shortcut is much more treacherous in this weather than Cranecloud…”
Dani holds up a hand, dark purple polish glints under the moon. “Not tonight, it isn’t. But do what you will.” She hefts her mauser one more time and, finding the position satisfactory, starts on her way into Philipe’s Forest.