Grave

La Sangsue

-- Le Passé --

Four cloaked figures helped carry a stranger's body through the basement of Sangsue Manor. It was almost eleven o' clock, and their elusive leader had not yet made an appearance.

They were not the first to arrive. A low hum of conversation had arisen between the members crowding the room. Zabros' absence was clearly allowing the vocalization of doubts that none dared to raise before.

"He was an esteemed entomologist before he moved here," a woman trailing after the laden figures was asserting, "so from what I gather, it must have something to do with-"
"Yes, yes. But that doesn't explain why we have to do this shit for him," the man holding the torso interrupted. "It's hard enough trying to get here unnoticed, especially when the whole lot of us are gathering."
The men dumped the limp form they were carrying onto the makeshift altar.
"In what way?"
"Well, Madeleine. It's a little obvious that we aren't fucking Christians."

Madeleine sighed, carefully swirling her coat and dress to enter the row of seats and find an empty seat. "There is, of course, always that risk – but you know how we are supposed to react if ever a suspicion is raised. We are expendable."

Nobody contested this. The man fell silent.

A single brass lamp lit the room. Its light flickered as hundreds of moths danced shadows around its globe. The seats were set up in rows facing a podium on a platform at the end of the room. Behind it a collection of empty cages were stacked beside an immense metal altar. Other figures, all clad in black, were maintaining a solemn procession into the room. They, too, helped each other set down motionless bodies, which by now formed a heap on the bulky altar. Madeleine watched them move back and forth like swooping crows, and began to drum her slender fingers on the empty seat to her right.

There had been a unanimous feeling of uncertainty when the meeting was finally announced. Zabros had cancelled their weekly assemblies in favour of commencing a series of tests to confirm that his captivating, rather grandiose theories were more than empty words. But the hiatus had lasted over four months. Now, he had called them back with a day's notice, expecting full attendance – spontaneity that opposed his usual tactfulness. His followers craved answers.

Madeleine finally caught sight of her brother. He was putting his offering onto the altar. To her horror, she saw that the body he had left there was tiny. It had to be a child. When he sat down she leaned towards him, almost unable to contain her panic.
"What the hell is that – are you crazy?" she hissed, "He's going to kill you!"

Dalziel sniffed, and stroked his neat, red beard as if deeply considering her proposition.

"No, I don't think so," he replied calmly, a smile curling the side of his lip. "So he's worried if the town found out they'd think that he's even more of a creep than they already do. You think it'll stop him drinking? Besides, they've a fat chance of finding anything, if what I've heard about his corpse...removal technique is correct."

At that moment their attention was swayed by the entrance of a tall, dark-haired man. A blonde woman  followed serenely in his path. The man swept past the rows of chairs without so much as a glance at the crowd, and hastily took the steps up the platform. With a curt wave of his hand, several hooded men came running out of nowhere and gathered the piled bodies, following him through a door previously hidden by a heavy black curtain behind the altar. All eyes in the room rested on the door.

A minute later, the man reappeared. Two of the acolytes followed him as he stumbled to the podium. He was wheezing and spluttering, and blood was streaming down his face. One of the acolytes gingerly held out a cloth to wipe it away. Another acolyte handed the man what looked like an ordinary puffer, which he proceeded to inhale with. Putting his arms out on the podium for support, the man took in a deep breath. Then he clutched at his throat, and, after his huffing eventually ceased, he smiled. His gaze was dark and hollow. The shining depths of his eyes bared no clues to the intentions beneath the surface. The crowd remembered why they were afraid.