A Death At Hand

"Twist of Shadows"

By Nozomi

Zero jumped up, ready for a fight if it came down to it. "Hiead!"

"Zero Enna."

Grr. How DARE the murderer call him by that name! It was HIS, to share with only certain people. Especially not HIM!

Waitaminute-

"WHAT? What are you talking about, Hiead?!" Zero cried, outraged. Accusingly, "This is YOUR dagger! YOU killed him!"

"A pathetic attempt to frame me, Zero Enna. That dagger was stolen from me three days ago. And, if I'm not mistaken, right after we were introduced. Besides, you're the one with the knife clutched in your bloodstained hands."

A smirk, even as his voice trailed off to an accusing, vehement whisper.

Damn him, anyway. He was right. But Zero certainly wasn't going to take that from Hiead Gner, of all people!

He dropped the dagger, lunging at the ruby-eyed youth and fisting his collar, lifting him off of the ground and slamming him against the wall. "You-! You were in here! It has to be you!"

A fist slammed into his stomach, and he reeled, releasing Hiead from his grip. The silver-haired boy's feet connected with the floor, and he gestured, smiling maliciously, at a second door into the room, across from where Zero and Clay had entered- it was wide open.

He hadn't heard the door being opened! Hiead was obviously lying!

… Then again, he hadn't heard OR seen the ruby-eyed boy approach him until he had actually set foot on the shattered glass fragments.

As Clay would say, 'Interesting'. But it was no help in locating the murderer. It could have been Hiead; it could have been someone else, for all he knew.

From a few feet away, Zero thought he could hear the cur actually begin to chuckle. To laugh! How could he? How could he, at a time-

… at a time like this?

As if of their own volition, Zero felt his eyes wander towards the… the body lying sprawled, bruised and broken, across the floor, and he could barely suppress the wave of nausea that threatened to overwhelm him. Dead! Someone had died here!

No, it was more than that. Someone had been killed. Deliberately murdered in cold blood.

Hiead's maniacal laughter seemed to stretch on for an eternity. Finally, though, even he had to pause for breath, and as he did so he uttered words that seemed so fitting and yet so strange, thrust out into this fragmented reality. "I come here to locate an errant servant, and stumble across this mess. Who would have guessed Zero Enna, the carefree idiot known for miles around as a prankster, a jester, would ever have the guts to commit such a crime."

Zero didn't even spare a glance at him. His eyes were riveted now on his bloodied hands. Stained. His hands burned. The blood splashed across them burned, as if the thick liquid would burst into flame at any moment. He expected it to, expected the red to leave scars on his hands. So red… almost crimson in color. It couldn't be actual blood, could it? It was too vibrant. Nothing was that vibrant. Nothing dead.

Dead.

"I didn't do it!" he cried out suddenly, voice full of inner torment. "I didn't! I didn't kill him! I DIDN'T!" a desperate plea. His hands were shaking. Trembling violently. He couldn't keep his grip, and the bloodstained dagger fell softly, silently to the floor, a dull sound as it hit the floor the only mark of its descent. The noise registered in Zero's twisted, broken awareness only vaguely. He swallowed thickly, eyes darting around. Wildly. Madly. He wanted to bury his face in his hands, but the blood… the blood…

"I didn't…" it was a chant now, a mantra falling from his lips like drops of rain from swollen clouds. "…kill him… didn't… didn't kill…"

Everything was happening too fast; too slow.

Zero's head jerked up, dark brown hair flopping in front of his wild eyes, as he thought his ears picked up the sound of someone calling his name.

"…Mother…?" tentatively. Was she…?

"Rei!"

"Mother!" he cried, dry, empty sobs suddenly wracking his body. It could have been her! It could have been him! His crimson hands gripped the indigo carpet as if to rip it out. Mother…

She appeared in the doorway then, cobalt eyes alighting upon her son almost immediately. So. It hadn't been just his imagination. With a cry, his mother raced towards him, skirts billowing out behind her, and wrapped Zero in a comforting embrace. His hands automatically came up to fist at the front of her blouse, as if to hold her to him; as if she would vanish in an instant. In her arms… he felt safe, protected from all things evil as her silver-blonde hair curtained them both.

"What is the meaning of this?!" his father's authoritative voice. Yes. His father would make it all better, make it all go away, someplace where it couldn't touch him.

But he was already stained, as surely and deeply as if he'd been burned by acid.

The blood on his hands was soaking into her pure white dress; marring it. He couldn't make himself let go.

Zero felt his mother's head turn, and he gripped tighter to her shirt. No, Mother… Don't go… But his body felt numb, and he couldn't force the words out.

"Be careful, there's glass!" came his mother's voice. A collective gasp rose from the direction of the doorway, and Zero could only assume the other attendants of the party had all crowded around the small opening to the room, and had all just spotted the desecrated figure lying on the floor.

"Lord Rupert!"

"It is!"

"Oh, my god…"

"He's dead!"

"Murder!"

The words; too many words. They were mixing together; he couldn't make sense of them. It was all just one big jumble of sounds. They didn't matter. Nothing mattered.

He was vaguely aware of his mother urging him to stand on shaky legs, and of being led out of that room. It had suddenly seemed too small; too small to breathe in.

Not too small to die in, it seemed.

Oh, god. The young Enna squeezed his eyes tight, trying to rid himself of the image that thought brought forth. But he doubted he'd ever be rid of it; as long as he lived, it would follow him, plague him in his worst nightmares and deepest fears. It would haunt him.

Like a ghost of time.

-----

It was surprising to run into Zero Enna outside of the party. It was even more so to find him clutching a bloody knife; his dagger.

Then he saw the body. Hiead recognized it immediately, of course. It was the broken corpse of none other than Lord Ian Rupert, the very same one that was such a high acquaintance of Lord Enna. The sight wasn't overly disturbing, though it did catch him by surprise for a moment; he had, of course, seen many a dead body before. His father hadn't gained his wealth simply by playing nice, after all.

No, what really disturbed Hiead was that he had felt anything at all, seeing Zero Enna with blood on his hands. Since childhood, he had trained himself to block everything out, to feel emotions through a mental wall, per say. It was easier, not to mention safer, that way. Emotions and the, sometimes violent, reactions they caused made you vulnerable to attack. Hiead had sworn never to be beaten at anything, and so far he had succeeded. Of course, every few years an event occurred that broke through the self-constructed defense Hiead had built around himself; like the day, eight years ago, when his mother had died, killed in the marketplace by a runaway horse.

That day had been the last time Hiead had ever fully and truly felt anything, and he was better off for it.

He had announced his presence by deliberately walking across the spilled glass and chinaware from the overturned wooden shelves. Zero had been too wrapped up in the body to notice he was there up until then. Thence followed the predictable display of viscous anger from Enna.

Hiead had found the whole situation humorous, though not entirely because he was a twisted S.OB. Due to the fact that he felt muddled emotions, he tended to view currently occurring events as if they were happening in someone else's life, and he was just along for the ride. This had gained him many curious glances over the years, quizzical as to why he wasn't as predictable as others of his age.

He had no answer for Zero's sudden outburst.

Zero. He had called the boy that because he knew it would anger him. Rei was what he should have called him, or even Enna. But Hiead was an antagonist at heart. It was why he had been in the room in the first place; looking for one of his servants. The silly girl had actually been insulted by something he had said, when it was clearly obvious he was only stating the truth. She had disappeared soon after Hiead had spotted that annoying Clay Cliff Fortran leave the ballroom, following Zero Enna.

Speak of the devil. There was Clay now, standing just outside the door. Why, the boy looked positively green. He must have been the one that brought the whole party down on top of them.

Hiead took advantage of the fact that everyone's attention was focused on the murder site to take his leave, sending the linked hands of Clay and Ikhny a scathing look as he passed. Pathetic boy actually needed a girl's comfort.

Did Zero kill the guy? Hiead doubted it now. The total breakdown Enna had gone through was hard to fake, though it had been interesting to watch. Right now, however, Zero was the only suspect besides Clay that he had, and he seriously doubted Fortran had the guts to do anything remotely connected with murder. Zero probably had at least *something* to do with the murder, whether directly or indirectly Hiead wasn't sure.

There was one thing for sure, however; he was going to find out if it killed him.

-----

Clay stood outside the door in the aftermath of the discovery, refusing to enter the room. His mind was whirling in an attempt to locate all the new information that needed to be processed and filed in its rightful place, but he doubted his thoughts would settle down anytime soon. His first reaction to practically tripping over a corpse hadn't quite passed yet; he was still feeling very much nauseous. His fingers tingled as if anything he touched would send sparks shooting straight through him, and his head ached. He didn't even have the energy to push up his glasses from where they were slowly slipping down his nose.

Ikhny stood next to him. The quiet girl had been the first to rush to him when he had stumbled, in shock, into the ballroom just minutes before. With some effort, he had finally managed to convey the horrible, shocking news to his father, Lord Cameron Fortran of England. He suspected they hadn't quiet believed him at first; he hung around Zero Enna, after all, and Zero was known for his practical jokes.

Christine Enna had believed his story, at least. She had convinced the others to go and validate Clay's story, and she had gone on a bit ahead of everyone else to make sure Zero was safe; her son was in the room where a murder had just taken place, and maybe where a murderer was still lurking in wait for their next victim.

Standing there, trying not to imagine the scene in that room, he almost broke down. It was a great struggle to hold his pose, even with the support of the wall behind him. His hands fell limply at his sides, and his head fell back against the wall. As if disconnected from his own body, he felt a cool hand that could only be Ikhny's catch hold of his own, offering silent strength and support from their interlocked hands. He was grateful, though he could not show it.

Clay heard the tearful reunion of mother and son from his place beside the door. Zero… he hoped his friend would be all right. He had abandoned him in that horrible room, all alone.

Apparently not quite alone, it seemed, as Hiead Gner passed by. The boy hadn't been at the party last time he had checked, so couldn't have heard the news so quickly; he had to have already been there. With Zero. In that room.

Hiead… Why was he in the room in the first place?

A glimmer of an idea began to form in Clay's mind, but he was just too exhausted, both mentally and physically, to complete it at that moment. He would let it run its course later, when he had more time to think.

For now… he needed to sleep.

With a bit of help from Ikhny, Clay pushed himself off of the wall and began to make his way down the hall towards his room, and a rest he desperately needed.

-----

He couldn't sleep.

The events of that day kept playing over and over in his mind, and he was powerless to stop them from taking center-stage in his brain.

With a sigh, Clay turned over, eyes fixed on some blank spot on his wall. He stayed in the Enna mansion so frequently that half of his worldly belongings resided here. He practically lived here. And usually, after a long day such as this, he would fall into the embrace of sleep almost instantly.

But tonight was different, in more than one way.

He still had that headache. And it didn't seem like it would let him sleep anytime soon.

There was nothing for it. Throwing back his sheets, Clay sat up, tentatively reaching down one foot to poke at the ground. Ew. Ice cold.

Deciding to brave it, he stood and made his way towards his door, opening and closing it, careful not to make too much noise. Down the hall a ways was Zero's room, and Clay headed towards it, pausing just outside the door.

He doubted Zero would mind if…

Of course not. He wouldn't mind.

Mind made up, Clay slowly pushed the door open, slipping inside. He made sure to close the door behind him, lest he let in drafts, then peered over at where he knew lay Zero's bed. The chocolate-haired boy was sprawled, per usual, across the bed. He looked like he didn't posses a care in the world, but Clay knew better. He was just too deep in sleep for any type of thought to reach him, including the nightmares that would indubitably come.

Years ago, barely two weeks after Clay had first met Zero, the young Fortran had spent the night. Unused to the unknown room he had been made to sleep in, Clay had lain awake most of the night due to the fact that he had begged to hear a ghost tale from the cook, finally building up enough courage to make his way to where he knew Zero's room to be. Zero had been awakened by his knocking, and had invited Clay to come in. The blonde had confessed to his fears, fearing that Zero would laugh and make fun of him, but the boy instead had told him he could stay the night in his bed, if he wanted. That night, Clay had found the peace of sleep not long after he lay down next to Zero. The feeling of a warm body next to his comforted him as he slept.

Of course, Clay had stopped the nightly ritual years before; 11-year-old boys did not need to be afraid of the dark, they were almost men!

But tonight was different. Just this once wouldn't hurt.

He smiled and approached the bed, lifting up the sheets and gently nudging Zero over. "Move over, you big idiot…" he whispered, knowing Zero couldn't hear him. His friend mumbled something inarticulate and rolled over, burying his face in the pillow, his messy brown hair splayed across it. Clay slipped in next to him, and lay on his side, watching Zero sleep. And soon, he too fell into the deep reaches of oblivion.

-----

C&C greatly appreciated! See you in the next chapter!

Nozomi