Featured by @fright for AAPIHM.
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A librarian gets sucked into a web of horror as she investigates a century-old disappearance in the new town she has moved into.
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Yvaine Agan had always led a quiet life and had expected to do the same when sh...
Gritting her teeth and looking one last time at the boiling flagon, Paisley Rose took the lamp from the table and walked towards the stairs. She had made her decision. This was the way she had chosen.
There was no turning back, no turning back at all.
***
The hall was pitch black when Paisley descended down the stairs with the lamp in her hand. Its little orb of light did next to nothing to illuminate the dismal place but made it look even more haunting.
An eerily calm smile was etched on Paisley's lips. The hood she had worn whilst following Jonathan the other day was back again, covering her face till a little above her nose. In one of her hands was clutched the handle of the lamp while in the other was a white handkerchief laced with a strong sedative potion.
She came to a halt in front of the door, only its woody outline visible in the dark. Putting the lamp on a hangar adjacent to it, she moved away slightly before turning around the knob. With an audible the door sprung open, bringing with it bits of snow and icy winds.
Two men stood upon the threshold, one quite lanky and the other quite burly. They were the same men from back at the inn, the ones with whom Jonathan had conversed. Even in the lack of luminescence, Paisley was certain that these were those two men. The smile on her lips turned into a full-fledged smirk.
That day after Jonathan had left the inn, Paisley in disguise had gone to the inn and given a tip to those two to arrive at her home in the late hours of the night. A hefty job with a hefty prize was what she had promised.
These two would bear the testimony to Jonathan's crimes. After all, they had murdered Felicity and played some role in the disappearance of Wilhelmina, this she knew from the conversation she had overheard in the inn. And in exchange for the gruesome service, they had demanded an increased sum of money from Jonathan. Also, they were perhaps the only ones who could convince Johansson of his brother's guilt.
Minutes fled in silence. Neither the men nor Paisley made the first move, both scrutinising the other. In the silence the winds blew emitting low, moaning sounds whilst them rustling past the windows felt as if someone was tapping on them.
"Ahem..is this the Rose 'state?" the lanky man said, clearing his throat. "Does a Miss Paisley Rose live here?"
"Yes, this the place," Paisley's voice was low and almost coquettish. "You have come to the right place, men." she flashed her brightest smile.
"So...uh...umm what is the task, ma'am?" asked the lanky man.
"What is the hurry?" Paisley answered. "Come inside." She held the door a little wider.
"Alright, alright," muttered the lanky man, subsequently motioning his accomplice to follow suit. Their eyes were upon the ground, their pupils bearing a dazed expression. Accompanied by the cold and Paisley's voice the dizzy effect became only much clearer as they stumbled to take the first step.
But even before the two could come close to the threshold, Paisley moved forward and hit the lanky man under his right ear, incapacitating him on spot. Emitting a low growl of pain he fell down on the hard concrete, busting his lip in the process.
The burly man froze in shock for a moment. Then, as he turned to attack Paisley she moved towards him with swift, languid steps and put the handkerchief against his nose, suffocating him. He struggled for barely a few minutes until at last he too fell on the ground joining his mate, unconscious.
Paisley threw open her hood. Sweat dribbled down her face, drenching the top of the dress underneath. She put a hand upon a stitch on her chest, breathing hard. Then looking once at either side of the empty lanes down the house, Paisley exerting all her force pulled both the men in the dark hall and closed the door with her heel.
Securing the bolt, she ran inside the house and returned with a bunch of ropes and gag clothes. Bending down, Paisley bound the ropes around men tightly and jammed the clothes into their mouths.
"Let these flea-bitten yokels rot here!" With a triumphant huff, she rose up, and harshly kicked the unconscious men in the shins. Their insentient bodies moved ever so slightly. They lay over each other, drool dripping down the corner of their lips.
Yet another part of her work was done. Perhaps the bane brewing in the flagon upstairs had boiled completely, meaning that two of Paisley's most vital tasks were done.
Now killing the killer was the only task left to be done.
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