No Rest For The Wicked [NaNo 2011]

Chapter Two - 3 - Gauche and Toothpicks

-3-

-Gauche and Toothpicks-

            “So, Cho, one thing you need to know before going inside,” Caanan stopped them at the front door.  He raised a finger in warning, catching her just below the chin.  “Be careful around Gauche,” he warned.  “Don’t speak more than you need to.”

            I don’t speak Caanan, Chomeske reminded him.

            “You know what I mean!” Caanan exclaimed, spinning around to open the door.  “Tono, Toki, you just go seat yourselves in the living room, I’ll meet you there in a moment, I’ll take Cho up first.”

            “Don’t leave her if he’s in a bad mood,” Tono waved, frowning as Chomeske’s back disappeared in the doorway, after Caanan.  He himself stepped inside, allowing Toki to enter before closing the door behind him and heading to the large living room, which was just as he remembered.

            Meanwhile, Caanan led Chomeske upstairs, his footsteps soundless.  Chomeske somehow managed to step on every creaking board, and she jumped every time.

            Caanan’s face was solemn, almost blank.  He merely waved at her to quiet down, holding her back in front of a grand oak door, knocking twice with the back of his hand.

            “Caanan?” a lucid voice came from the other side of the door.  “You’re late.”

            “A thousand pardons,” Caanan bowed his head.  “I’m sorry I’m late.  I brought the Riddler and his family... including the Rye girl.”

            “Let her in,” the voice spoke.  “And let us speak in private.”

            Cho, Caanan signed, something strange in his eyes.  Fear?  Pity?  It would do you well to be cautious, Gauche is a strange fellow.  He paused for a moment, hesitating.  Good luck, he pushed the door open, ducking back into the shadows of the long hallway with its creaking hardwood floors.

            Chomeske poked her head inside the room, unable to see through the thick smoke in the room.  She choked, grabbing at her throat, the sickly-sweet smoke stinging her eyes.

            Her footsteps were loud; louder than they would normally be.  Maybe it was her imagination, or maybe the smoke just made them seem louder, she was not sure.  The door was pulled shut form the outside behind her, presumably by Caanan.

            “Come forward,” Gauche spoke, from his seat in the corner of the rom, by the fireplace.  His armchair was facing away form the doorway, so Chomeske could only see the back of his head, black and combed back.

            Chomeske obeyed, her brow creased with worry.  Her arms were raised in front of her body, poised to either start signing, or to defend herself, whichever was necessary.

            “Come where I can see you,” he spoke, raising his left hand, a black ring on his pinky finger, getting her to come closer to the fireplace.  “You’re... Chomeske Rye, am I right?”

            Chomeske nodded as she stepped into his view, raising her shoulders nervously, shuffling her feet.  She found it hard to look into his dark eyes, darker than the abyss, seeming capable of swallowing the life in you if you weren’t careful.

            He stroked his goatee, a thin smirk on his lips.  “You know, I wasn’t supposed to collect you parents’ souls for a long time,” he said.  “I doubt you remember me, but I came in to collect them that summer evening,” he nodded, holding out a hand.