Vaurien Scapegrace stepped out of the pumpkin carriage and into the falling snow.
Ever since the ice cream van ran out of petrol, Thrasher has been searching for an alternative transportation mode. It took him and his master ages, but at last, they managed to meet a sorcerer who was understanding and patient enough to hear them out.
"A pumpkin carriage." Thrasher had whispered to the sorcerer, Duqein, when his master was distracted.
"I'm sorry? A pumpkin carriage?" Duqein's eyes widened in disbelief and something in them made Thrasher think that the sorcerer was regretting his life choices of meeting them.
"That's right." Thrasher grinned. It was, after all, only fit that they travelled using a unique and eye-catching transportation mode. His master was the zombie king, and everyone ought to know that. His master had mentioned something about his skin peeling off too, and pumpkins, Thrasher thought, was definitely beneficial to skin. Well, he read that somewhere.
"Thrasher." Scapegrace said in a low voice.
Thrasher trotted over.
"Yes master!"
"Do you know how wonderful I smell now?"
Thrasher took a sniff and his eyes widened.
"You smell just like the jasmine flowers that bloomed in the garden, the ever so sweet honey, the lavender body soap-"
Scapegrace whacked him. "The smell emitting from me now is a combination of rotten flesh and pumpkin. Do you know how awful and horrible and horrendous that is how dare you make decisions without-"
Thrasher grabbed his master and pulled him down, a hand clamped over Scapegrace's mouth.
"Muh ah oo ooing!" Scapegrace thrashed around, trying to escape Thrasher's clutches.
"We are trying to break into the skeleton detective's house, master. We have to keep quiet!"
Scapegrace stopped struggling for a moment, and Thrasher released him, only to get hit on the head again.
"I know." Scapegrace told him, his voice lowered drastically. "Of course I know. I haven't forgotten about that. Now, would you kindly warn me before you grab me again, you idiot?"
Thrasher whimpered. Scapegrace sighed in frustration and looked around. The detective's car was not in sight, which meant that he was out, and that in itself is a good sign. He shivered and wrapped his hands around himself in the cold weather. Scapegrace signalled to Thrasher, just as how they have practised countless times before, and started crawling on all fours.
It was not a short crawl, though. In order to avoid suspicions, Scapegrace had ordered Thrasher to stop at the funeral parlours. The thick snow made it hard for them to progress, and to make things worse, Thrasher kept losing his shoe on the way.
"Throw that shoe away, you idiot." Scapegrace muttered.
"But Master, this is the only shoe that you got for me!" Thrasher gasped.
"I did not get it for you, dimwit. I threw it in the dustbin and you picked it up yourself."
"But Master-"
"Shut up."
Thrasher whimpered.
When they finally arrived at the detective's doorstep, Thrasher was panting, while Scapegrace tried to regain his composure.
"Ready?" Scapegrace whispered. He knew it was equivalent to walking straight into the lion's den but he had to find information about turning into human again. Nobody welcomes zombies anymore, and the only way they could think of is sneaking into the detective's house. Surely there would be valuable information.
Thrasher gulped in nervousness and nodded.
Scapegrace carefully took a pin out from his pocket and held it as if it was a newborn baby. He had no confidence in picking locks, but he had had at least some experience when he was the Killer Supreme.
A good five minutes passed by before Thrasher's excitement and nervousness got the better of him. "Why should we pick the lock, when we can just knock the door down?" he thought. Planning to give his master a surprise, he took a few steps back. "Master will definitely praise me." Thrasher grinned.
"Nearly done." Scapegrace muttered to himself. It was only then that he saw Thrasher in a fighter stance.
"What are you doing, you idiot?" Scapegrace narrowed his eyes.
"Preparing, Master." Thrasher lowered his head.
A sudden realization hit Scapegrace. "Oh no. Oh no you don't." He got up as fast as he could but Thrasher was already a blurred form rushing towards the door.
A loud bam could be heard, but as Thrasher backed off, the door was unscathed. In fact, it was Thrasher who was holding his head and whimpering in pain.
And to make matters worse, Scapegrace caught sight of the Bentley driving into Cemetery Road.
P.s. It's been a really long time since I've last written a fanfic. Pardon the grammar mistakes and if the story is too boring! And I do not own any of the characters in this chapter!