Disclaimer: (holds up signboard) I wish I owned God Child. But I don't.
Author's Notes: Chapter two up! (happy dance) Constructive criticism is welcome. Flames will be ignored. And please read and review—reviews make me very happy. :)
Inficio
Chapter 2
God Child Fanfiction
By: Hypnotic Prism
Cain stayed at the funeral only until he had heard all that he needed to hear. Besides the fact that the people were raving about this news of an evil nymph stealing men and killing them, he heard that Godfrey had been staying at their manor overlooking the river when he had apparently leapt down two stories off his balcony and wandered into the forest where he was last seen alive. They found him in the morning, a floating corpse in the river, with fishes swimming around him curiously.
So there was really nothing there that Cain did not already know about. Or so he thought. He had a look at the body and saw something unusual. Apparently, no matter how hard the undertaker tried, he could not completely cover up the ravage done to Godfrey's face and neck. His lips were terrifying blue black—as though they rotted away—and veins from his mouth, over his jaw, down to his neck and wrists, had been of the same color, like so many roots.
Cain stared for as long as he could, and then he left, mulling this over. Riff watched him in the carriage. "What do you think, Master Cain?"
"He obviously ingested something venomous…" Cain said in deep consideration. "His mouth…no amount of makeup could cover it up. And his veins… He took in something that corroded his whole circulatory system."
"A poisonous plant, or an animal poison, you think?"
"That was my first idea, seeing that it all happened in the forest and by the river, but that effect was too strong. He must've died almost instantly. No simple poison could do that… It must've been a mix. This was done on purpose."
He looked up now. "However, it wouldn't hurt to get a second opinion while we know so little. And seeing that Merryweather has an interesting friend…why not let's ask her about it?"
Riff blinked, and nodded. Cain brooded out the window on the way to where Merryweather was, until the scenery caught him. It was further out the town than he thought. They passed green and yellow rushes down a dirt path, and he saw the long winding river a hundred yards off, bordered by a fearsome guard of the forest trees. The river soon vanished into the growth, and Cain turned to the other side to see what Merryweather meant.
Under the biggest willow he'd ever seen—albeit the most gnarled and strange-looking—was a small cottage. Cottage was kind word for it, as the little one-storey dwelling was little more than a hut. The thatch roof was dilapidated, aged yellow and the walls were only painted in whitewash, and one could see the sloppy bricking in some places. From the wood windows flew faded yellow curtains. But the striking thing about it was the garden. It was twice the length of the house in every direction, bordered by a crude wood fence which had also been whitewashed, but a spectacular variety of plants greeted the onlooker like so many soldiers of an army. Within the fence was a giant black cauldron simmering over a fire, and from there he could see the little figure of Merryweather peeking excitedly in.
Cain smiled. This was the place.
He stepped out of the carriage to get a better look of the place. The willow looked like a giant umbrella over the old cottage. He walked up to the fence—a little taller than his knees—and pushed open the gate. He stared at all the plants, in a mix of amazement. How all these plants could grow here was amazing. They were all over the place, and some of them were extremely rare. His gaze darkened as he saw one area of the plot where he saw some of the deadliest poison plants he knew, raw and ready to be harvested. This garden was both a wonder and a danger, and began to consider if it would be wise to let Merryweather return.
Merryweather looked up as he came in, looking delighted. "You came!" she exclaimed, waving, making Cain smile.
And at this moment, a figure he did not even see—so blended to the earth and plants—got up from where it was hunched over, picking plants. Dressed in a dingy, soiled brown dress, a dirty apron and a milkmaid bonnet as brown as the earth and stained with plants, was a girl. Her hands were covered in earth and leaf stains, and she had a wicker basket at one elbow.
Cain had jumped when she moved. "Pardon, miss—I did not see you there."
If anything, she was more stunned—as well as somehow scandalized—to see him. "Do you always enter so boldly into residences, sir?" she said, once she had gotten her wits back.
She was Irish—and couldn't have been older than he was. He shook his head. "Pardon again. I came for my sister Merryweather."
She stared all the more. "So you are the brother she speaks of?" And here he had to wonder why she said that so incredulously.
Merryweather came bounding up to him and hugged him. "Brother, I'm glad you came! This is Julianna—the one I told you about! Julianna, this is my brother Cain."
Cain stared at her, and then at the earth-decked girl, who stared back at him with a strange dark look in her eyes. Perhaps now was not the time to mention that he imagined that Julianna was an old hunched crone. Perhaps she knew what he was thinking, because she seemed to get slightly annoyed, "Why do you stare at me?"
"No reason…" he looked at Merryweather. "What have you been up to?"
"She's been teaching me how to make perfume," she grinned. "It's really nice!" she jutted a wrist right up to his nose and the strong sweet scent wafted into his nostrils. His eyes widened slightly. "Misselin?" he murmured before he could stop himself.
Julianna's eyes narrowed just the slightest bit. "You have a good sense for it…" she said before turning away and heading for the pot. "You are fond of brews, Count?"
"Poisons, miss. But I'm sure Merry's already told you." He raised an eyebrow as he felt slight irritation rise. She was obviously making no effort at all to even try and be hospitable. Her voice remained flat and almost rehearsed.
"So I hear…" she said. She stirred the pot—looking for all the world like the haughty old crone that Cain imagined her to be—and waved a hand to Merry absently. "Merryweather, would you be so kind as to see if there is madder inside the house? I need it for this one."
"Oh! Of course!" Merry hopped forward, obviously liking being inside the house by the way she glanced so curiously at it. "Brother, come see!"
"Merry…" Cain stared at her as he took a few steps forward, and Merry vanished into the rickety doorway. There was a moment of silence and then Julianna lowered the stick and wiped her hands on the apron before going up to him. "Some tea, Count?" she asked. "'Tis all I have for now."
"Oh—there's no need to—"
"Please—your sister has already invited you in." She stared at him with that steady dark gaze that was, more than anything, a cage of hate. But he had no idea why this would be so. Turning away from the gaze, he affected his usual composure. "I suppose so."
He headed for the house with her leading. He asked, "Has Merry been imposing?"
"Not at all—your sister is very…eager to learn." She paused. "…her psychic powers are too strong."
Cain looked up. "You know?"
She glanced at him sideways. "How could I not? Am I not a witch?"
Cain smirked. "You seem proud of that fact."
"I am what I am—same as you are you. You are an infamous count. Yet you don't care either. You, count, are more entangled than I, who stays out of society."
"So you really are a witch…" Cain smirked.
"Sometimes. One cannot live on witching alone." She motioned to clothesline, and Cain looked to it, and nearly laughed. On the clothesline were rows of sheets and cloaks all drying in the wind, their colors deeply stained to the fabric. And Cain realized what a good number of the plants and the pot were for.
"You're a dyer," he said, eyeing her red-stained hands.
"It keeps me from starving. Some women from town come to me with cloths or threads, and I dye them. Or sometimes I weave with what I've dyed and sell it in town." She said this flatly, with no attempt to gain sympathy whatsoever. In fact, she seems to almost resent this fact—and that resentment was turned to him. Was it perhaps because he and Merry lived their lives in luxury?
"You have taken offense—for Merry bringing you food," he said bluntly.
"Why should I be? I'm grateful to her."
Cain felt irritation rise again. There was simply no understanding this girl. He strode after her into the house where he was greeted by a surprising sight.
The walls were naked and unpainted, covered with shelves. A big table was in the middle for preparing food, probably, but in this case, it was covered in roots, petals, stems, leaves and every part of an herb or flower conceivable. Some were meticulously arranged, dried and ready for use while others are still in a haphazard pile. On the shelves around the room were countless books of worn covers and yellowed pages, and under them were hundreds of multicolored bottles, all filled with all sorts of liquid and powder. Still others contained some specimens like frogs and other animal parts.
At the table, Merry was picking out dried madder roots and laying them out. She looked up and waved at them. "I got the roots, Julianna!"
"You have a fine memory for this sort of thing, Merryweather…" Julianna gave her a small smile. "Thank you. I'll make you both tea."
Cain would have moved against it—it was highly doubtful that they should remain in her company for much longer, but Merry was too happy to notice anything. And if he didn't know any better, he'd swear that Julianna was actually more civil to Merry than she was to him—which might not have been too far from the truth at all.
"Don't you find it lonely living here by yourself?" Merry inquired as the tea arrived. The dirt-streaked girl did not glance at her as she replied, "This home is enough for just one—I have no complaints. And you? Do you not find it lonely in such a massive house? Full of empty rooms and bad memories?"
Cain was correct in assuming that the question was more pointed at him than at the little girl next to him. Julianna had glanced at him for the barest fraction of a moment before turning back to the herbs she was arranging on the table. She obviously must know more than she let on, and seemed to be using it at some sort of subtle attack.
Merry would have answered, but Cain replied, "Well we do have each other for company, at the very least. And the senseless social parties… You would seem to have a lot of time on your hands, miss, living on your own."
"I don't spend my time in leisure, if that's what you're trying to say…" Julianna set down a jar of frog eyes.
"I have no doubt you do. And in the matter of your work, I remember that I came here originally to ask you something."
Julianna stopped and glanced at him. "What would that be?"
Merryweather eyed her brother apprehensively all throughout this exchange. She could now sense the growing tension between the two of them. They clearly had no liking for one another, and/or they were trying to match wits in a game, challenging each other and seeing who would take the bait. Why they had to do this, she had no idea.
Cain did not break from the steely gaze. "The people who have been found in the river. The river couldn't be more than half a mile down the road from here. For sure, you've heard of it. They died of poison."
Julianna opened her mouth to speak but Cain interrupted. "I didn't come to accuse you. I came to ask if you knew what kind of poison might have killed them."
There was a terse pause that followed this. Merry's eye twitched as she stared at her brother.
The girl looked sufficiently awkward before she had managed to speak again, and replied, "I'd have thought you can do that on your own."
Cain's gaze was one of challenge. "It never hurts to get a second opinion."
"What were you trying to do there, brother?" Merry asked Cain the moment they were on their way home. "I should think you might have offended her…"
"Might? I don't mean to sound childish, Merry, but she rather began it all." Cain rolled his eyes and leaned on the window, going deep in thought. A witch in the woods… And half a mile from the river… It sounds too easy…
"Well…she did seem to act differently around you," Merry supplied, fidgeting. "I can't imagine for the world why not. I suppose she doesn't get very many male visitors, maybe? She had said she used to live with her mother in that house. She hadn't a father."
"Could have fooled me—she could've passed for a boy."
"What was that?"
"Nothing. I asked if you intended to go back sometime."
Merry blinked up at him, puzzled. "Perhaps. Why?"
Cain said nothing and kept frowning out the window. Too easy. Especially if she would have some sort of grudge against men… But there has got to be a bigger motive besides that… Why so suddenly? And how could she have killed able bodied men so easily?
He lifted a glass vial to eye level. In it was a sample of flesh he had retrieved, corroded black with poison. It had to be examined, and the poison determined. It seemed familiar in its components at any rate. He should be able to determine what it was soon.
Too many unanswered questions were still in the air. There had to be something missing. There was still something else to consider before making any drastic assumptions.
Cain then looked up. He decided that he was going to have to pay a visit to the river.
The case does seem too easy, doesn't it? But come on—it's only chapter two! Thing's will take a turn the next chapter. Please review! Reviews keep writers happy!
