Side Story #1 - Colt - Page 16

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Colt still wasn't really interested, but out of impulse, he asked, 'How late last night did you overhear this?'

'Maybe about three in the morning or so,' said Bohwanox. 'I could be mistaken, though. I'm not great with time.'

'Who the hell did you overhear at three in the morning?'

'Some old guy who was out walking his dog. He wasn't gracious enough to say his name out loud for me, the random invisible being whom he didn't know was following him.'

'Was he by himself? Who was he talking to?'

'I just told you he was with his dog.'

Colt's expression flattened. 'He was talking to his dog?'

'Yeah. Is that so weird?'

'When it's some kind of historical lesson about an old ship, yeah, it's pretty fuckin' weird.'

'Maybe we just have different definitions of weird.'

'Maybe we do.' Colt stopped to think for a moment. 'This dog wouldn't happen to have been a Dantean Sherpherd, would it have?'

'No, it was a beagle.'

'Mm. Did you overhear anything else from this old guy?'

'Yeah. Apparently, the story goes, this giant ship just showed up here in Orden one day out of thin air. Shocked the townsfolk beyond belief. Then they worshiped it for a while as some sort of godly artifact.'

Colt squinted as he watched the kids. 'It just appeared out of nowhere, huh?'

'So they say. Spooky, right?'

'Says the fuckin' ghost.'

'Excuse me, but I happen to consider that term a racial slur, and I'll thank you not to use it from now on.'

'Go to hell.'

'No thanks. Anyway, I'd say that story implies some kind of supernatural involvement. Which is in our wheelhouse, eh?'

'Not necessarily,' said Colt.

'Oh no? Then how did that ship end up there?'

'An elaborate stunt.'

'What?'

'As long as you had enough personnel and made the right preparations, I could imagine that ship being built in a single night. Then, in the morning, it would look like it had just appeared there out of thin air.'

'Building an entire ship in one night? Are you serious?'

'Yes. And for all we know, it might not even be an entire ship. It's half-buried, remember? And it's not like the builders would have had to make it seaworthy.'

'If it was some kind of hoax like that, then someone would've noticed by now, surely.'

'I'm just saying, you shouldn't take things at face value. I doubt it would be that difficult to fool a bunch of unsuspecting townsfolk two hundred years ago.'

'Fine, but why would anyone do all that?'

Colt shrugged to himself and drew looks from the twins. 'I don't know. To make history? Why would some supernatural explanation be more plausible?'

'That's a fair point, I suppose.'

'Did you learn anything actually useful last night? Or were you too busy following old men and their dogs around?'

'As it so happens, I visited all of our current suspects last night. Even Keith Hopper again.'

'Oh. That was surprisingly smart of you.'

'Wow. You want to conduct this investigation on your own from now on? Because I've got other things I can be doing.'

'Do you really? Weren't you just complaining about how bored you were these last couple nights?'

'Yeah, but complaining about being bored and genuinely not having anything to do are two completely different things.'

Colt didn't even want to understand what the reaper was talking about. 'Whatever. You learn anything good or not?'

'Not.'

'Shit, really?'

'Yeah. Janet Beaumont, Keith Hopper, Leonard Pink. All asleep. Would've visited Robert Plenty, if we knew who that was. You should really get crackin' on that, by the way.'

'C'mon, you had to have noticed something of use. What were their homes like? Describe them.'

'It was dark. I couldn't see much.'

'Did any of them seem extra wealthy? Expensive cars in the driveway? New furniture or appliances?'

'I really wasn't paying attention to that sort of thing, Colt.'

'You're useless.'

'And yet without me, you'd be dead.'

'If you didn't find out anything useful, then why did you even bother to tell me that you visited all of them?'

'Because I wanted you to know how hardworking I am.'

Colt just sighed to himself.

'Anyway,' said Bohwanox, sounding not at all bothered by any of the insults that he'd just received, 'since there doesn't appear to be much movement on the case at the moment, I'm going to be spending most of the day reaping souls in Lagoroc.'

'Now? Why didn't you do that last night when you were bored?'

'I did, but there are still lots more souls to get to.'

Colt found that somewhat surprising. 'Are there normally that many?'

'In a big city like Lagoroc? Yeah, there's typically a few dozen deaths a day. And souls can wander aimlessly, which sometimes makes them a bit tricky to find among all of the still-living souls.'

'You're not the only reaper in the city, though, are you?'

'No. I've seen one more, and there are probably at least a couple others hanging around somewhere.'

'Hmm.'

'Last night, though, I found a rather large group of souls that had been passed over. Given the horrible condition they were in, they'd probably been dead for months. I expect that it'll take me a few days to reap them all.'

Colt hesitated at that news. 'So I won't be able to contact you for multiple days, then? That could seriously hamper the investigation. I don't have an entire police department backing me up, you know. You're the only real support I've got.'

There arrived a long pause. 'Why, Colt... I never expected to hear such warm words from you.'

Colt's expression soured. 'That is not what I meant, and you know it.'

'I know no such thing. And I'm incredibly flattered. Thank you, my friend.'

'Get bent, you son of a bitch.'

'My angry, angry friend.'

'You gonna answer me or not? I thought you considered this investigation important.'

'I won't be out of contact for multiple days. Just for much of today. I'll be working on that one group of souls intermittently for the next week or two. And I'll check in on the police station in between reapings, too. If anything significant happens, I should still be able to tell you about it.'

Colt wanted to argue with him. He wanted to tell him to just hold off on reaping until after the investigation was over, but that wouldn't be very reasonable, and Bohwanox might've already known as much. Depending on how things continued to develop, this investigation could drag on for a very long time, and given how little information the reaper had been able to uncover yesterday, Boh was probably feeling pretty antsy about just sitting around and watching a bunch of cops read files and do paperwork.

'Check on Keith Hopper again, too,' said Colt, 'not just the police.'

'Yeah, alright. I'm pretty sure he's not our guy, though.'

'Maybe, but it's too early to be thinking that.'

'Mmhmm. Anyway, I'm gonna get to work now. Try not to do anything too stupid while I'm gone.'

'Same to you.'

Colt relaxed with the kids for a while, then decided to go chop some more wood. He didn't need to. He had plenty still stockpiled up from the other day, but the simple rhythm of it helped him think. He needed to constantly reevaluate the case, as well as his approach to it.

This was so different to a normal investigation. Again, he found himself wanting to resort to conventional methods, even though he knew he couldn't. Now more than ever, he had to be careful. Taking the wrong action could expose him to any number of previously unforeseen problems.

He was starting to wonder if this whole thing was just a horrible idea.

Well. Of course it was. He'd known that from the beginning.

But it wasn't too late to stop. To just let the issue drop. Sure, a murderer might go free, but what responsibility of that was his? And Boh hadn't noticed anything yet about capital cops suspecting him as the culprit, so...

Oh, who was he kidding? Even if he were to "give up" on the investigation, he would still be thinking about it constantly. If nothing else, he wanted to know who the killer was. Even if he didn't bother to take action afterwards, he wanted to know who to be wary of.

And to that end, preparation was key. As always.

He stopped chopping and set his axe down.

He looked at his bare hand, making a fist, then opening it again.

His destruction ability was convenient for a few different things, but thus far, chopping wood hadn't been one of them. It was great for bringing trees down, sure, but trying to cut logs with it? He'd tried that a few times previously and only succeeded in reducing the logs into sharp chunks and splinters--which had been a pain in the ass to clean up. He couldn't very well let the kids play outside with so many sharp objects all over the ground. Using an axe, while a bit more work, was much cleaner and safer.

But Colt had the impression that, if he just honed his ability more, he could overcome that problem.

Exerting fine control with destruction was harder than it seemed, though. He would've expected it to be a simple matter, considering his ability started so weak in the first place. Why couldn't he just achieve that same level of weakness again? What was so difficult about doing something he'd already done before?

It was the path of destruction itself that was the problem. It was stubborn. It always wanted to adhere to the same shape and size. And when it grew more powerful, it wanted to remain grown.

With practice, he could at least tell that it was possible to shrink the path back down.

Colt supposed that this was the point when most servants would consult their reapers for advice regarding the development of their powers, but that wasn't an option for him. He'd learned early on that Bohwanox didn't know much about servant abilities.

Colt would just have to figure it out on his own.

He decided to give it another go, here and now. He grabbed the log and moved it farther away from the house, next to a small stream that babbled down a long row of large rocks. Typically, he used this place to handwash his clothes and dishes. He usually carried the twins over here with him while worked on those chores, but at this distance from the cabin, he could still see the makeshift playpen that they were in.

He set hunk of wood down in the front of the water and concentrated. On his power. On his intent. Then he put his hand forward and summoned the path of destruction.

The log exploded into pieces.

The stream caught the splinters for him, though, at least, and he watched the debris float away in the water. He dropped his hands to his sides and frowned.

It was discouraging, but he knew that he needed to keep practicing. He glanced back at the kids, then eyed the stream another time.

He had actually worked on this stream a bit previously, rearranging rocks and altering its path to make it flow as close to the cabin as it currently did. Practicing his destruction on wood was just a waste of resources at this point, so he decided to grab a few of the larger rocks that weren't affecting the stream's flow and use them, instead.

He spent the rest of the morning smashing rocks apart, trying to minimize the damage he was doing to them. He got it into his head that he would accomplish his goal if he managed to carve his initials into a rock that was a small enough to fit into the palm of his hand.

By the time lunch was rolling around, he had not succeeded, and he was even beginning to feel fatigued.

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