CHAPTER NINETEEN - DESTINITES BEGINNING

"Tough luck stupid." Victor chuckled, "Better luck next time."

Victor gave Malcolm a sly smile and then returned back into the building closing the gates behind him.

Malcolm glared intently at the building which he just came from and huffed to himself. "Petty little man, think he can threaten people in that manner," he uttered with hate.

He turned around on his feels and walked straight into Iris who was walking towards him.

"I'm sorry," Malcolm quickly apologised, "my fault."

Malcolm started to hurry away sharpish as Iris made a reply. He didn't know what was happening and he didn't know why it was happening but the tattoo was obviously the answer and he needed to know why if he was to live.

The sun shone down brightly in the streets of Koravox which brought out the public by the score. Buying, selling or simply socialising, the streets were lively with the chattering of the local folk.

Malcolm quickly realised that the town was small, very small. He stopped to catch his breath.

"You look lost," a voice commented behind him.

Not really sure who the person was talking to Malcolm turned around

"Are you alright?" a voman asked Malcolm as he turned his gaze towards her.

"I'm just fine," Malcolm replied after a couple of moment. "I've just got a few things on my mind."

"Ahh," the woman replied softly. "You know, people with too much on their minds can miss the inherient beauty of the more simplistic things in life." The woman looked around herself and pulled out a single red rose from a vase and turning back stepped forward and pinned it to the lapel of Malcolm's jacket. "My name is Rose, I own this shop. If you wish to talk about them things on your mind, feel free to stop by."

"Emm, thank you Rose," Malcolm replied, a little taken back by the openness and friendly gesture made by Rose.

They both smiled as Malcolm slowly moved on through the cobbled streets of Koravox in search of answers he didn't know of.

Time seemed to drag on for Malcolm and he'd gotten no new information. Passing by a fairly largeish home he didn't pay attention to the man standing outside who seemed oddly interested in his presence.

"Ahh, you again," the man commented towards Malcolm.

Malcolm, vaguely recognising the voice walked back a little and turned his head to the sound of the voice.

"I recognise the vice a little," Malcolm replied, "were you the man in the jail cell."

"Yes," the man replied with a smile, "call me Anthony. Please come into my home."

Malcolm looked up for a moment at the elegant design of the house before accepting Anthony's offer and stepped inside his house. The inside of the house was pretty much the same style as the outside, very much leaning towards the victorian era of design with lavish comfortable looking chairs and a dark stained bookcase filled with pictures and ordaments.

The one thing that stuck out from the rest of the décor was the number of picture frames dotted around the walls with butterflies where pictures should have normally gone. This sight brought a slight shiver down Malcolm's neck, who would go to the bother of collecting butterflies.

"Welcome to my home," Anthony announced as he closed the door gently behind him, "much better then prison ... yes." Anthony watch out of the corner of his eye as Malcolm took in the room he was in and a small smile played on his lips. "Perfect specimens each and every one," he commented, not taking his eyes of Malcolm.

"I ... suppose," Malcolm replied after a couple of moments, not really sure what to say to something like this.

Anthony, still smiling walked forwards to a nearby wall and stared screnely at a small collection of his bufferflies. "Butterflys are God's creatures, each one contains the soul of a re-incarnated hunan."

"Really?" Malsolm replied softly.

"Human spirits that are pure return as butterflys. How lovely to collect and preserve them. I learn much about nature through this work. Does all this sound strange to you?"

"Everybody has their own hobbies," Malcolm answered choosing his words a little carefully as to not offend Anthony who was clearly passionate about his hobby, or perhaps just a little eccentric.

As Malcolm finished gazing at the butterflies, he turned his gaze just as Anthony opened a door at the rear of the room which seemed to lead into another part of the town. "Please come visit my house whenever you like," Anthony said as he stepped through the doorway and half close the door. "You're alright Malcolm."

The door closed and Malcolm was left alone in Anthony's house.

"What was all that about?" Malcolm commented to himself. "More to the point, why has he gone out and left me here alone, in his home."

Malcolm turned and made a beeline towards the front entrance he originally came in from. Opening the door he stepped through and took one more glance back.

"Yes, definitely a little on the eccentric side." Malcolm muttered before walking out and closing the door behind him.

The mid-day sun that was shining brightly earlier had fast been replace by the glowing red embers of dusk as evening greeted the town of Koravox. Malcolm had started growing wiery after all the walking about he had done during the day and decided he needed to rest, preferably out of the sight of Governor Braithwaite and the lackey Virtor.

He had soon found a quiet looking cemetery that had a welcoming looking bench situated in the middle. So, taking his tired feed he walked over and sat down with a deep resonating and relaxing sigh.

Taking in his surroundings, he noted, with little surprise, the cemetery was as clean and well preserved as the buildings and the streets in the rest of the town. The grass was a rich green and was emcaulately tidy. The tomb stones were both clean and well preserved and it had looked like all the graves had a nice assortment of flowers resting nearby them, all that is, except for one which was just off to his right. That didn't have any flowers at all.

Malcolm looked at it for a couple of moments wondering why that grave had no flowers. Perhaps their family members no longer lived in town. After a couple of seconds, a smile crossed Malcolms face. He unpinned the rose that he was given and standing up walked slowly to the grave and knelt down by it's side.

"How sad," Malcolm softly whispered. "You seem to be forgotten."

He placed the rose gently on top of the grave and took a small breath before standing up, his eyes not moving from the rose which laid on the ground.

In fhs space of a mere heart beat Malcolm lept back in sheer shock at what was occurring in front of his very eyes. Seemingly out of nowhere a ring of pure brilliant light encompassed the rose which started to ride up ever so slightly. His eyes fixed on what was happening he could see mere small points of a brighter light withing the light flowing gently upwards in the stream. Yet Malcolm wasn't scared or frightened, but just mesmerised.

Then just as the phenomenon occurred, it had disappeared, only now, the rose had also disappeared.

"What's going on here?" a voice came seemingly from nowhere.

Malcolm shot his gaze up and saw a fairly tall man, middle aged with a fairly thick moustache and receeding hairline. He had his arms by his side and a firm gaze at Malcolm.

Not knowing what to say that that moment, Malcolm momentarily had to think. "I ... er ... I just wanted to place a flower on this grave."

"And it just disappeared. Didn't it," the man replied taking a couple of steps towards the grave.

"Why ... er ... yes." Malcolm said, a little surprised.

"Sweet Louisa's grave," the man said softly looking down at the grave, "my daughter. Every day I put a flower there, and everyday it disappears. I .. didn't ask your name yet."

"My name is Malcolm."

"My name is Gary, thank you for the Rose," he replied extending his hand.

Malcolm looked at it and extended his own, shaking Gary's hand.

"You look tired," Gary commented looking at Malcolm's wiery face. "Why don't you stop by my home and rest up for a little while."

First Anthony and now this gentleman. Malcolm couldn't understand the open and friendliness of the town's people. It was a refreshing change for sure, he just wondered if Gary will vanish as quickly as Anthony did.

"Thank you," Malcolm accepted with a smile.

Gary turned towards the entrance and both Malcolm and Gary made their way out of the cemetery.

Their walk was peaceful and in silence. They never stepped foot through the town but rather took a small lane which ran just on the outskirts. After a little bit, their travels led them to a small, homely house, which compared to the other buildings was in complete opposite with a large thatched roof which had a chimney on top blowing light puffs of smoke.

Gary opened the door and let Malcolm inside before walking inside himself and closing the door behind him.

"You look like you have quite a story to tell Malcolm," Gary commented as he gestured to take his coat. "What brings you to Koraox?"

Malcolm wasn't really sure what to say or where to begin, he knew for sure that he had a past and the person who had any idea wasn't saying anything. Just to lead him in a vicious game. "I'm searching for my past," Malcolm finally replied. "I have not idea who I am. But I'm sure someone in this town knows me."

"You seem desparate," Gary commented as he gestured to Malcolm to make himself comfortable.

"I am," Malcolm replied sitting down and feeling the softness of the chair surround him welcomingly. "I was told that if I don't find the City of Moons I'll lose my life."

While Malcolm was talking Gary was busying himself pouring a couple of glasses of water. He came back to where Malcolm was sitting and handed him a glass.

"Mmm, that must be the illustrious Governor Braithwaite."

"Yes," Malcolm replied a little startled that Gary knew who he was talking about.

"He, destroyed my daughter," Gary continued, speaking in a low solemn voice.

"The Governor?" Malcolm replied, not able to hide the shock in the tone of his voice.

"Yes, but this was before he became Governor. Four years ago he decided he wanted her for his wife, but she hated him. So she disappeared. I started an investigation into her disappearance, taking photographs and keeping a journal I keep locked in my private study, but I could never get the proof I needed."

"Did he kill her?" Malcolm asked as he listened to every word Gary spoke with interest.

"Braithwaite said it was a suicide but her grave is empty. At least that's what he told me."

"That's horrible." Malcolm spoke gently.

Gary looked lost into the empty glass that he held delicately in his fingertips and muttered softly, "Yes it is." He glanced up at Malcolm, his eyes not showing much in a way of emotion. "Maybe somehow we can help one another. You look tired, stay here if you want."

With that comment Gary rose from his chair and walked into the next room.

"Well," Malcolm whispered to himself after a moment, "least he never left the house."