She stepped out of the low-slung sports car and straightened her jacket.
Pyr slammed her door and then stood beside her silently as she surveyed the
house before them. It had the air of a child's nightmare; twisted,
decrepit, and ominous to the point of absurdity. Somehow, the sun didn't
shine there. "Nice," she said finally.
Pyr grinned; it lit up his face. "I'm impressed, myself. Shall we go in?" He executed a mock bow, sweeping his long coat behind him as he peered up at her.
She rolled her eyes and headed for the house. "If he's not here, I'm going to be sorely disappointed."
"Oh, Thi. You're always disappointed, love." He shoved his hands in his pockets as he followed her, whistling.
Upon reaching the door, Thisbe kicked it in with one booted foot and then shouldered her way through the wooden splinters to go inside. She immediately ducked her head into the collar of her coat, eyes watering. "Oh, Jisoa. Do you smell that?" The stench was overwhelming, the unmistakable scent of rotting flesh, defecation and all that accompanied death. If it sat there for six months.
Pyramus glanced over her shoulder only to see a dim outline of the room. He rummaged around in his right hand pocket before pulling out a small flashlight. He shined it carefully around the room until it rested on the decayed remains of a body. "That's him!" he exclaimed cheerfully, as if Thisbe didn't already know.
She stepped over a seemingly well-loved butcher knife lying on the scratched wooden floor and reluctantly bent down by the body. Now, which part was his head? It was hard to tell. "Looks like we got our man."
Pyr was walking casually around the room, taking in the various hand held torture and death devices that lay scattered about. He knew the good stuff was downstairs. "Ah ha! A blood trail. Looks like our boy wasn't killed here."
He snapped his gum and followed the path of dried blood to where it widened into a large puddle. "Who or what dragged his dead ass over there?"
Thisbe, who had been listening to the scuttling in the corners, replied dryly: "Rats?"
Pyr flashed her a smile and offered his hand to help her up. He pulled her to her feet and tucked a piece of ebony hair behind her ear before she could duck away and slap him. She frowned.
"Shall we go to the basement?" he asked, as if she weren't glaring holes through him.
"That's why we're here." She pushed past him roughly and headed for the basement door.
"That time of the month, honey?" he called after her mockingly. She flicked him off without turning around, her black leather jacket near glowing in the faint light of his flashlight. From behind, it was hard to tell where hair ended and leather began. "Bitch," he said fondly.
She was already heading down the stairs. He hastened to follow.
Pyr grinned; it lit up his face. "I'm impressed, myself. Shall we go in?" He executed a mock bow, sweeping his long coat behind him as he peered up at her.
She rolled her eyes and headed for the house. "If he's not here, I'm going to be sorely disappointed."
"Oh, Thi. You're always disappointed, love." He shoved his hands in his pockets as he followed her, whistling.
Upon reaching the door, Thisbe kicked it in with one booted foot and then shouldered her way through the wooden splinters to go inside. She immediately ducked her head into the collar of her coat, eyes watering. "Oh, Jisoa. Do you smell that?" The stench was overwhelming, the unmistakable scent of rotting flesh, defecation and all that accompanied death. If it sat there for six months.
Pyramus glanced over her shoulder only to see a dim outline of the room. He rummaged around in his right hand pocket before pulling out a small flashlight. He shined it carefully around the room until it rested on the decayed remains of a body. "That's him!" he exclaimed cheerfully, as if Thisbe didn't already know.
She stepped over a seemingly well-loved butcher knife lying on the scratched wooden floor and reluctantly bent down by the body. Now, which part was his head? It was hard to tell. "Looks like we got our man."
Pyr was walking casually around the room, taking in the various hand held torture and death devices that lay scattered about. He knew the good stuff was downstairs. "Ah ha! A blood trail. Looks like our boy wasn't killed here."
He snapped his gum and followed the path of dried blood to where it widened into a large puddle. "Who or what dragged his dead ass over there?"
Thisbe, who had been listening to the scuttling in the corners, replied dryly: "Rats?"
Pyr flashed her a smile and offered his hand to help her up. He pulled her to her feet and tucked a piece of ebony hair behind her ear before she could duck away and slap him. She frowned.
"Shall we go to the basement?" he asked, as if she weren't glaring holes through him.
"That's why we're here." She pushed past him roughly and headed for the basement door.
"That time of the month, honey?" he called after her mockingly. She flicked him off without turning around, her black leather jacket near glowing in the faint light of his flashlight. From behind, it was hard to tell where hair ended and leather began. "Bitch," he said fondly.
She was already heading down the stairs. He hastened to follow.