Ezra Bloom liked to write. Well, no. The remnant inside of Ezra Bloom liked to write. That was what she was doing right now. Writing her day, a diary as such. It had been so long since she had had the chance to just sit and enjoy words. The feeling of pencil on paper. It was nice. It perhaps wasn't the time or place to indulge on old habits, but Ezra had every confidence in Dexter and Anton to get the house. They had gotten the car, after all. Was killing involved? Yes. Did any of them view that as a problem? Not particularly. So, there Ezra sat, writing in a little journal she had stolen from the petrol station, on the stairs that lead to the front door of a very large, very nice house. She heard screams and the occasional bang but she just continued her writing, enjoying the crisp, cold afternoon sun. A little while later and Anton sauntered out the front door.
"You coming in or what?" He asked. He had blood spatters on his face and clothes.
Ezra looked up, closing the book and tucking the pencil behind her ear, smiling.
"That took a while." She observed. Anton shrugged.
"It's no fun when it's fast." He said, grinning. Ezra followed him inside, observing the smears on the walls, the bloodied... bits that littered the floor. It was a very nice house, immaculate and decorated in a very stylish, lavish manner. Dexter was lounged on one of the many couches, his eyes closed, not as much blood on him. Ezra sat beside him and he smiled, sitting up to wrap his arms around her.
"I could get used to this life style." He said, opening his black eyes.
"What do we do now?" Anton asked, sitting across from them. Dexter shrugged.
"I'm content with this." He said, still smiling lazily. Ezra shrugged him off.
"We need to know what the others know." She said, sitting forward, resting her elbows on her knees.
"Meaning?" Dexter asked, leaning back.
"We got rid of the sensitive. Now we need to eliminate other possible problems. The skeleton probably knows too much, but we would never get close enough to him. I suspect the Elders don't know anything, as they would be forced to do something to prevent it."
"So that leaves the other guy." Anton said, the last piece of a messy puzzle. Ezra nodded.
"We need to get Rue."
Getting Rue was surprisingly easy, all things considered. He was the only Dead Man without an offensive, or indeed defensive, discipline. And he was a heavy sleeper. And he lived alone. The remnants were less than impressed, to put it simply. They were expecting a full on fight, blood, sweat, tears. But instead all they got was loud, strangely rhythmic, snoring. Rue woke up, but Dexter already had the damp cloth over his mouth and nose. They bound him and dragged him out, shoving him in the boot of the car. When Saracen woke up, he was tied to a dining room table. He grunted, trying to ignore the thick grogginess in his head. He looked around the room, fidgeting to see how strong and tight the ropes were. Strong and tight enough.
"Ezra?" He asked, seeing the small golden haired girl. Her lips turned black as she smirked.
"Guess again dear." She said softly.
"We heard that you know things." Dexter said. Saracen turned his head to look at him, frowning.
"What do you know?" Anton asked. He was standing at Saracen's head.
"What?" Saracen asked, trying to ignore the pounding in his chest and ringing in his ears.
"Darquesse. Who is she?" Ezra asked bluntly. Saracen shook his head, his frown deepening.
"I don't know; no one does." Saracen said.
"Cassandra knew." Anton said. Saracen felt the color drain from his face.
"That's why you killed her?" He asked in a small voice.
"They weren't kidding when they said you were a clever boy, were they?" Dexter patronized.
"I'm not a sensitive, how would I know who she is? Why do you care?" Saracen asked, refusing to let on how scared he actually was.
"Because we know who she is. And we need to protect her at all costs. Which includes anyone who might harm her." Anton said.
"Ah, I get it. If I know, I might say something, and then the problem is eliminated before it's a real problem." Saracen mused.
"You know what they say; snitches get stitches." Dexter chided.
"That's all well and good, except I genuinely don't know who she is." Saracen said.
"We'll see." Ezra said. She nodded to her companions and suddenly a towel was covering Saracen's face, Anton holding it tightly. Dexter unceremoniously started pouring a bucket of water over Rue. Saracen tried to stay calm, but he had heard of this form of torture, and panic set in quickly, and he started thrashing as he felt his chest start to burn. He couldn't breathe. He screamed, but it was muffled, and when he opened his mouth water filled his mouth and swallowing seemed impossible. Then the water stopped, and the towel was taken off, and Saracen was gasping, big, huge, heaving breaths. Dexter disappeared and Ezra sat on the table, facing Saracen.
"As much as I enjoy doing that, it is a pity to see you in such distress. Anything you'd like to add?" Ezra asked, in such a soothing voice. Dexter was back, with two more buckets of water. Saracen shook his head.
"I don't know, I really don't know, please-" But Anton covered his face again and Dexter started pouring and Saracen was screaming, thrashing and lurching, trying to catch and breath or escape or pass out, whatever came first, he just needed it to stop because it was too much and he was scared, so, so scared. He felt his wrist dislocate and he screamed louder, his lungs burning, his pulse roaring in his ears. Then it stopped and the cloth was removed.
"Please, please, I don't know anything, really, please, please stop." Saracen slurred. He was crying, his voice was hoarse and raw, his wrist throbbed as the pain traveled up his arm.
"I want to believe you. Really, I do. But I just... need to be sure. 100% positive. You understand, I'm sure." Ezra chided.
"Ezra, I know you're in there, please!" Saracen begged. Pride and dignity and stoicism were long forgotten. All that mattered was that that towel never touched him again. But Anton covered him again and Dexter was pouring and Saracen was sure his heart was going to give out. Then it was over, and Saracen was choking and convulsing but that was okay because at that moment Skulduggery Pleasant and Valkyrie Cain broke the door down and rushed in, followed by Ghastly Bespoke, Erskine Ravel and China Sorrows.