Chapter 7

Precis Neumann was the first to the main hallway. Before anyone else could catch up to her, she managed to fumble for a light switch and peer over the railing at the carnage below. There, she saw not one, but two bodies, both looking quite dead. Slumped on the floor near the front door lay a thin figure with red hair and a nightgown. Hanging directly below Precis was a man with a thin rope around his neck.

"Chisato! Ernest!" Precis involuntarily hopped a foot in the air, half out of shock and half out of horror. "Chisato!"

She rushed down to the door and bent over her fallen friend, sobbing like she herself had been stabbed and beating her mechanical punching hand against the floor. After a crack appeared in the woodwork, she put her weapon away and cradled Chisato's head. It pressed limply against her torso. Running her hand across the face, she could feel a night's worth of tears still damp on Chisato's face.

"No," she managed to say. "And Ernest…"

Precis risked a glance at the swinging corpse, but she managed only a second before the gruesome spectacle overpowered her senses and sent her into a fresh fit of tears – not just for the newly dead, but also for the previous victims, her friends and allies, all taken much too soon for her comfort. In her frustration, she bit her tongue. As her mouth filled with the warm, bitter taste of blood, she imagined herself in the room when the killer struck. She imagined the grisly scene being played out in front of her. She imagined herself the victim, left to die for no reason other than to satisfy the bloodlust of some crazed maniac. Precis began to feel very cold, and very, very alone.

She felt alone enough, in fact, to be thoroughly spooked at the sound of the footsteps at the top of the stairs. She jumped up and gave a short, shrill cry when she saw Ashton standing above her. She felt her fear morph into a rage and then a hatred. Ashton, who could not protect her, had also failed to protect Opera and Ernest. Ashton, the worthless.

Without saying another word, and before anyone else could arrive at the scene, Precis bounded up the stairs, pushed Ashton aside, dashed into her room, and locked the door behind her.

XXX

Even the most battled-hardened of the rest of the crew could not help but flinch at the gristly sight of two new dead comrades. Bowman stumbled slightly when he noticed Ernest for the first time, and Ashton had to grab his arm to keep him from falling down the stairs. Celine looked to everyone else like she was about ready to vomit.

Ashton felt the worst of anyone. He could hardly tell that he had slept at all, and he couldn't get over the fact that he had been in the room with the killer on at least two occasions – when he had gotten past him and Precis earlier, and when he had poisoned Opera. Making matters worse was the expression he had just seen on Precis's face. While he had been dying to see her, he wanted it to be under slightly better circumstances; when she passed by, she had looked as though she had nearly been killed herself. She looked, Ashton thought, as fragile as he had imagined when his worst fear danced through his head: Precis being the one dead on the floor.

What made everything worse was that she didn't even want him to protect her anymore. She wanted so badly to get away from him that she would put herself at risk by sleeping alone and undefended. She only trusted in her Bobot.

I swear I'll smash that Bobot if I get out of this alive, he thought. I'll smash Bobot into pieces! That thing could very well be the reason everyone's dying, and she won't even trust me over it. I… hate it.

When Ashton snapped to attention, he noticed that he had, without thinking, drawn his swords, as if expecting another attack in the middle of a crowded and well-lit room. Grinning sheepishly, he put them away.

"Two more?" Celine asked Bowman. She looked almost sickly with her sleep-mangled hair and slightly bloodshot eyes. "I don't think I can take this much longer."

"Neither can I," said Bowman, "but luckily, you're wrong."

"Wrong about what?"

"Chisato is still alive."

Everyone fell silent. Bowman pressed his fingers against Chisato's neck.

"Yep," he said, "there's a pulse, and I caught her breathing. I think she's just catatonic. I can't really say why."

"Will she be okay?" said Celine.

"I think so, but let's get her up to her room and lay her down on her bed. You can watch her there. Ashton, fetch me some water from the kitchen."

Ashton stood numbly for a few seconds, but then he carried out Bowman's orders, wondering all the while what could have happened to Chisato and why it didn't seem to fit with the rest of the incidents. He couldn't seem to find any connections between the killings, but then, everyone else was at least dead. Why would the killer leave Chisato alive?

By the time he got back to the others, Celine and Bowman were already lifting Chisato by the arms and moving her toward the stairs. Claude offered to help, too, so Ashton, not needed, stood back and transported only the water bottles.

"Rena," said Bowman, "can you take this for me?"

"Sure," Rena said.

"Good. I want to have a look at Ernest. Everyone but Celine, please meet me back here as soon as possible. I want to go over everything before morning. Where is Precis, by the way?"

"I saw her a bit ago," said Ashton. "She was the first to get downstairs, but she looked a little too disturbed by everything to stick around. I think she's back in her room."

"Well, I hope she locked the door," said Bowman. "And I hope more than anything else she doesn't have Bobot in working order right now."

XXX

"Ernest was hanged with his own whip," said Bowman. "That much is beyond obvious, but I can't seem to figure out what else happened here. I don't see any sign of a struggle, but I'm going to want to inspect the body."

Rena edged closer to Claude. "He died that quickly?"

"I think so," said Bowman. "It's like someone was hiding and waiting for him. That's the only way I can think of to hang someone as tough as Ernest was without making a lot of noise."

"Do you think Chisato saw what happened?" said Claude.

"Doubtful," replied Bowman. "I don't have to look very hard to see that Ernest has been dead for a while. Rigor mortis, you see. Chisato was conscious enough to let something scare her just a few minutes ago."

"Strange," said Claude. "I don't really know what to make of it."

"There isn't much to go on. I haven't seen anything of interest lying around on the floor. I think I'll look through Ernest's room next, just to be safe. I can't rule out the possibility that he was killed elsewhere and thrown over the edge to make it look like a hanging."

"That makes more sense," said Claude. "I mean, how do you hang someone against their will?"

"Not this easily," said Bowman.

"It's like magic," said Rena.

"No," said Bowman, "it's just another riddle for us to solve."

"For what it's worth," said Ashton, "I didn't notice anything suspicious back in the room. I was there all night, asleep for most of it."

Bowman scratched his chin. "Were you?"

"Uh huh. Where else would I be?"

"I was hoping you might have some idea as to why Ernest wasn't around. He's not given to midnight walks, is he?"

"Well," said Ashton, "I can't really answer that. For all I know, he was killed right in front of me, and I didn't notice because of that amplified Silence crest."

Gyroro and Ururun hissed.

"These guys didn't hear anything, either."

"I see," said Bowman. "Or rather, I don't see. I don't see how any of this could have happened. I'm afraid I'm even more in the dark than I was before tonight, and that's with more to go on."

"Chisato was practically running the investigation," said Rena. "Maybe she'll be more help when she wakes up."

"I hope so," said Bowman. "I'm good for examining things, but I'm not as talented as she is at coming up with explanatory theories."

"She'll be fine," said Rena, sounding like she wanted to convince herself of what she was saying

Ashton noticed that Claude and Rena were leaning on each other, and he began to feel even more lonely than ever.