The Shadow's Acid

III.

The pigeons dance for murder

TW: mentions of murder and blood

⚔

Of all the things Mumbo expected to wake up to, it was not an agitated pigeon careening about his room.

"Caspian!" he cried. What was Grian's pigeon doing in his house? Mumbo's own pigeon eyed Caspian with distaste. Apparently, it disliked the fact the Caspian was getting all the attention, and not him. Mumbo struggled to capture the whirlwind of a bird as it knocked over several paintings and a lamp. He finally managed to secure the bird, gently stroking its head to calm it. His pigeon, Dave, was having a hard time believing that Mumbo had a new feathered friend that wasn't him. He bit Mumbo's knee and pecked him, trying to capture his attention.

Abruptly, something clicked in Mumbo's mind. If Caspian was here, without a message, where was Grian? His pigeon never visited other people if he could help it. Anxiety bubbled inside of Mumbo, and he sprang out of bed, throwing on his suit and combing his hair. He bolted out of his door, barely remembering to lock it behind him. Caspian and Dave sat on his shoulders, giving each other jealous death glares.

In an attempt to appease them, Mumbo tried to give each a handful of seeds. However, since he was clumsy as a rule, the seeds fell off his shoulders and scattered on the cobbled roads. Dave and Caspian fluttered down and began pecking up the seeds, momentarily forgetting their rivalry. Mumbo chuckled and scattered more of the seeds he kept in one pocket. Soon, an entire flock had gathered, consisting of almost all the pigeons of the city.

With a start, Mumbo remembered what he had set out to do. He turned abruptly and rushed down the street. Turning the corner into the front garden, he nearly crashed into the man he had been looking for. Grian laughed out loud at Mumbo's flustered expression as he dusted himself off, trying to look like he hadn't just sprinted a block and a half.

"Looking for me, Mumbo?" A pigeon settled on Mumbo's shoulder, the gray bird frantically pecking at his black hair, which flopped over one eye.

"Yes, I was," Mumbo replied, plucking the bird off his shoulder and unscrewing the canister. "Caspian turned up at my house this morning and I panicked. Turns out he was just jealous, I guess."

Grian laughed again before his mood took a darker turn, seeing Mumbo reading the note. "An emergency meeting. Beef's place," he stated flatly.

"This is Peanut, though," Mumbo pointed out. "Why did X's pigeon come from Beef's?"

"Only one way to find out, my friend." Grian shrugged, offering seeds to Peanut. Surprisingly, the bird rejected his namesakes, devouring the sunflowers and poppies, but leaving the peanuts. Grian observed this peculiarity and shrugged, adjusting the tote bag he carried on his shoulder.

"What's in there?" Mumbo asked, gesturing at the bag.

"You'll see," his friend responded. "Let's get going. X was clear we needed to be there quickly."

He led the way down the street, going to the outskirts of the city near the towering marble walls. Mumbo trailed behind, stumped at his friend's sudden seriousness. The butcher's house appeared before them, the pens behind the building mysteriously empty. Grian strode around to the side, hopping over the fence and entering through the back door.

"Grian, shouldn't we use the front door?" Mumbo asked as he hopped the fence behind the red-sweatered hermit.

"I always use the back door when I come to see him," he replied, doing nothing to alleviate Mumbo's nerves about the whole matter. However, there was little he could do. Grian was already raising his fist to knock on the door. It swung open on loose hinges the second he touched the wood, giving way to a dimly lit hallway.