Chapter 23

"For the righteous falls seven times and rises again, but the wicked stumble in times of calamity." -Book of the Healing Church 24:18

"Good hunting, Fred?"

Fredricx stood a pace into the absurdly small library. Book shelves overfilled with the expected seemed they would topple over with the weight. There was a table in the middle, covered in scrolls and gold tinted scientific equipment and religious relics. The Hunter's hat and sword also rested on the table. Against the far wall, there was an open chest, tufts of cloth hung from the mouth. Finally, a dark ladder led to who knows where.

Near one of the bookshelves, the red coated Hunter was picking through reading material. The white frills of his shirt underneath were stained on both chest and sleeves. "Well?" Adullam asked again, tilting his head sideways, "Have you had good hunting?"

Fredricx began to nod and then to shake his head. "Where is Ettie?"

They made eye contact. "What do you mean?" Adullam returned the book haphazardly to a shelf.

"When I woke up, she wasn't there. I've been looking for her."

Adullam's head shook. "I'm sorry, Fredricx. I don't know. Doctor Iosefka does not allow Hunters in her clinic for fear of blood drunkenness. She sealed herself and presumably Ettie deeper inside. Did you check with the Doctor?"

"Of course," Fredricx wanted to spit.

"I'll keep an eye out for her," the Hunter smoothed.

Then, there was that noise again. The small sounding bell that seemed to haunt Fredricx. He gave a small grit to his teeth. However, Adullam seemed unphased.

"Didn't you hear that bell?" he asked, using one hand to knead his palm against the handle of the whip and the other to swipe his eyebrow.

"Yes," Adullam began, "It is a beckoning bell. They are passed around and only heard by fellow Hunters. It will bother you less as your senses adjust to the blood. Regardless, when one is rung, it is another Hunter asking for help."

"Should we go?"

"By the Great One, Kosm himself, no," he swore, "The size of your cranium must not be reflective of the brain matter inside. It could be a less than hospitable Hunters trying to lure you. You would be such easy picking." There was a snarl. "Apologies," Adullam breathed out, straightening his posture and giving himself a shake at the shoulders, "I'll show you what I mean." He recapped his hat and collected the sword, which seemed sticky against the table. The mask was brought about his mouth and nose.

Fredricx thought of Gehrman's warning. No, Fredricx thought of his hallucination's warning and decided to dismiss it. Between the piercing noises, overwhelming smells, and visual hallucinations, the blood was already costly. Would it get worse as time went on as his body could no longer fight it? Would it get better as time went on as he adjusted to its wiles?

They descended the ladder on the far side of the room. Not knowing what else to do, Fredricx looped the links of the whip around his collar like a scarf. It was precarious at best and lethal at worst. It was at least asking for a nasty infection.

Adullam's shoes hit water below with sloshing. It was water at best and who knows what at worst. It was at least asking for a nasty infection.

Thankfully, the water or not water didn't creep into Fredricx's boots. He hoped this would not be his only stroke of luck for the night.

"Where are we?"

"Not a religious man, Fred?" Adullam countered, "Don't leave flowers on the symbolic tomb of the beloved Oedon, the Great One that ascended and is now completely formless?"

Fredricx unhooked the whip from his neck, allowing the metal shards to clink against the ground. "Not in the slightest. Yourself?"

"I do believe," Adullam answered, "but I'm not going to gouge my own eyes to show my devotion. My loyalty is elsewhere."

From the low cistern, they emerged on Yharnam's streets once again. The moon was practically glistening, which lit up the coffins that vertically lined both sides of the walkway. These were not misshapen, salvaged wooden coffins for the poor, but metal casted, ornately inscribed ones for the wealthy as if money equated entrance to an afterlife.

The gate into the tomb and its courtyard were left wide open except it had likely not been that way at the start of the night. The gate had been locked and shut. Now, the lines of iron had stressed and bent, leaving it hinged open awkwardly. From the gateway, Fredricx could see tombstones poking every which way in the yard below.

They were not alone. A set of stairs separated them with another figure, who was seemingly wandering and creating small trenches in the ground with the blade of his ax. They watched for a moment as the Hunter stupored in between headstones with shoddy shoulders and neck bent far forward. His lips were moving, but he was not speaking to anyone.

"Just who I wanted to see tonight," Adullam muttered, sarcasm weighty in his voice, to Fredricx, who himself could have gone without seeing this particular Hunter again.

"Gascoigne," Adullam flamboyantly called toward him, sheathing his blade and spreading his arms in delight. He transversed the stairs with Fredricx slightly behind. "Good hunting, I presume? It is a nasty night, filled with all sorts of abominations, but it means the gold will be plentiful in the morning."

Adullam gave a bow at the waist as they approached and then signaled for Fredricx to do the same with a snap of his gloved fingers. Reluctantly, Fredricx did. The bow was not out of respect, but tension.

Resting the ax handle on his shoulder, Gascoigne snorted air through his nose. "Adullam," his head shook, shifting his blunderbuss as if inspecting its readiness. "You recruited another of your breed, I see?"

Gascoigne's smell was just as degrading as his words. He reeked of something far more sour than alcohol. On the other hand, the red coated Hunter seemed to take little offense to smell or comment. Instead, he laughed, and it was so convincingly not superficial. "Oh, come now. The Scourge is dissuaded by all manner of weapons."

"Do you have any blood?" Gascoigne interjected, but it was less of a question and more of an imperative.

Adullam, of all things, smiled. "Of course." He handed Fredricx his pistol and unbuttoned his coat. Digging about his inside pockets, the Hunter produced two vials, which glistened in the moonlight.

Greedily, Gascoigne snatched them up, but Adullam was unphased and rebuttoned the coat with white frills poking from the top. The pistol was returned to its owner.

"You?" The conversation turned to Fredricx, who eyed Adullam. There was a slight nod with a look of strikingly grave intensity. However, the look was gone as quickly as it came, and he went back to immediately beaming at Gascoigne.

"Well?" Gascoigne insisted, "Didn't you hear me?"

"Yes, I heard you," Fredricx suppressed his hiss as he shuffled about the inside of his coat's pockets. The leather crinkled and squeaked. He surrendered a single vial.

"Is that all you have?"

"Yes," Fredricx lied. Gascoigne glared at him, but Fredricx offered nothing, not even an explanation.

Then, it happened again. The beckoning bell seemed amplified off the stone around them, causing Gascoigne to smile. "Looks like my presence is requested," he laughed, bellowing it out as if the most comical situation had just played out before him.

In response, Adullam chuckled. "We are headed elsewhere. Good hunting, Gascoigne."

"He's been worse," was all Adullam offered as they watched the black coat and its Hunter disappear down a set of stairs into the belly of the city.

XXXX

The two of them stood idly for long moments before going after him. Gascoigne had gifted them with two freshly slew beasts, hacked into many illogical puzzle pieces. Red was the glue that would never fit them back together.

They crossed the obscenely large walkway. Fredricx had not been on this side of Yharham as work was toward the docks, and days off were spent inside, resting his back. Regardless, was the poor architectural choice due to pompiety or to unruly urban development?

Fredricx decided it was the second has the cobblestone dropped off into the aqueducts. The moon reflected off water that was less than drinkable, far less than potable.

Adullam led Fredricx to the far side, to a ledge that probably was not designed for full grown men. The ledge barely poked out from the wall and followed along the aqueducts below before jutting around a corner.

"If you fall," Adullam jested, "Hold tightly to that whip of yours. There are always unfriendly beasts at the bottom." On second thought, he was not joking.

They inched and inched. Well, Fredricx inched, while Adullam footed. His footing was relatively stable as Fredricx shimmied sideways. Cursing the small gravel locked in the traction of his boots, Fredricx let out a deep breath to calm his insides and outsides.

"Let's go," Adullam urged, having already rounded the corner.

Using his free hand to strangle the exterior corner, Fredricx shifted, willing his legs forward without casting glances other than toward the direction of Adullam's voice.

Thankfully, it ended far less dramatically than any other outcome. Hopefully, this would not be his last bit of luck for the night. There was obviously far more to go.

Instead of another wonderfully wide walkway, the ledge ended. The only thing that would break their fall into the aqueducts was a slightly larger platform with a ladder that seemed to kiss the moon at its peak.

Fredricx watched as Adullam sheathed his sword and holstered his gun, and he turned his head toward Fredricx. "Transform your weapon. The cane will be far friendlier."

"I haven't quite mastered it yet."

"It would have been a little more convenient if I knew this earlier," Adullam grimaced. He accepted the whip by its handle, and in one solid motion, lashed it directly out in front of him in a practical straight line. It recoiled and snapped together into the cane. The links jangled into place with small creaks of metal. It was returned to its rightful owner.

"Come on," Adullam said as if there was somewhere to go other than backwards. The Hunter jumped, pushing off the edge with arms extended. His feet scraped rungs, and hands coiled tightly around the ladder. Without hesitation and with merely a small grunt of trivial discomfort, he climbed. His shoes clomped against the metal rungs.

Air whistled through Fredricx's nostrils. This did little to relieve the tension growing in his shoulders. As carefully as Fredricx could and attempting not to loosen his balance, he slid the cane between his belt and trousers. If he fell, it would not kill him, but it would be an inconvenience to say the least. Adullam had stopped and was peering down at him, "We've got beasts to slay, Fredricx."

However, Fredricx's luck must have been short on supply. Despite his general fitness and reliable instincts, his jump was not so successful. He sprung and tumbled. He thanked the Queen when he looped an arm around one of the rungs of the ladder. This, sadly, was only temporary relief. The momentum swung the rest of him in one direction, which was too much for his elbow. Involuntarily, it released, and he continued to fall.

Fredricx palmed desperately. Instead of securing himself, he only managed to bruise his fingers and bend them too far past their preferred angles. If only it had ended there, Fredricx might have praised Odeon himself. Instead he landed on the platform below. "Land" was too generous of a descriptor. In fact, his body did not stop with this misfortune of tumbling. This was more than a mere inconvenience.

Fredricx struck one leg against the corner and continued his descent into the aqueducts. Tired fingers grappled the same edge that actively split his knee, which already bubbled with liquid. He gave several feeble attempts to propel himself forward, elbows protesting his own weight.

Fredricx, for the first time, surveyed his surroundings. There was a less precarious ladder just out of reach, but the drop did not seem nearly as far has he had already come. The water below could not have been that deep, so Fredricx let go.

XXXX

He was right about the water. It lapped at his calves. Unfortunately, the Hunter instantly regretted the decision. The water started to stir violently around him, and Fredricx was looking into the yellowed eyes of about a dozen sets.

"Queen's grace," he swore and jerked the cane from his belt. This was quite the inconvenience.