Den of the Wolfman

Chapter 8: Into the Den

A parade of images flashed through Bandas's mind. The totem was not tied to any particular memory, so everything flowed outward in a jumble. Bandas saw faces...places, some of them in Wild River...work...carousing...prostitutes...food.

He stopped at one image. He was staring into the mirror, but the face that he saw was not his own. The man had pale skin—a few shades lighter than Bandas—with black hair, a black beard, and blue eyes. This man was likely in his early forties, and he was missing one of his canine teeth.

The images blew by again. Work...walking...carousing...prostitutes...

Murder.

Bandas felt the soft tissue give way as he sank his teeth into Elaya Trencher's calf, ripping the meat away as one would with a poultry leg.

Bandas dropped the necklace.

"Riverman, are you alright?"

Bandas sat in the grass for a moment. "Yes, yes," he said. "Sorry. I'm just a bit fatigued, I think." He put his glove back on and handed the necklace back to Cartman.

"Don't overwork yourself," said Cartman. "You're no good to anyone if you're dead too."

"Right. Yes."

"Do you know anything about this thing, then?"

"No, I do not," said Bandas. "I wish I did."

"Well, let's stay in touch. Let me know if you find anything else." Cartman walked back toward the brick building. "Pardon me now, but I have some more notes to take."

It took a moment for Bandas to recover, but once he had, he got to his feet and started walking. He was not entirely sure where he was going, but he had a strong suspicion that he needed to get back to the Voler quarter. As he walked, his mind raced, piecing together the mass of images that he had just experienced.

There was one image that he was specifically trying to focus upon. It was difficult, like when someone is trying to recall a specific word that one knows to exist but cannot specifically remember. As he continued to walk, though, it gradually coalesced within his mind. It was a specific building that he had seen in the Voler quarter, with broad sliding doors opening onto multiple levels of wraparound balconies, as was characteristic of old Voler buildings.

As the corner of the building came into view, he knew immediately that this was, in fact, the building from his vision.

Bandas passed the cart of a street vendor who was selling jelly fritters. His stomach rumbled with hunger, and he considered stopping for a bit to eat, but he figured that likely would not be a good idea if he was about to either get into a fight or find some putrid remains.

He walked by a knife shop and saw its wares in the window. Something suddenly caught his eye: some brass knuckles. Feeling a sudden need for some weaponry beyond just the cane that he carried, he went in and bought the piece, slipping it into his pocket.

Reaching the building in question, Bandas saw that the front door and windows were boarded up. This was not a surprise, though. He circled around to the back and found a small door to the alleyway that was similarly boarded up. Looking around, he tried to find something that he could use to pry away the boards. But then, he had a thought. Noticing that there was space enough to crawl between the boards, he reached past them and tried the doorknob. The door opened easily.

After looking around one more time and seeing no one, Bandas took his hat into his hand and crawled through the opening, into the darkness.

He left the door open, as there was little light in the place. He tried his best to walk quietly, but between the heavy heels of his boots and the dilapidated state of the boards under his feet, that proved a vain endeavor. He surveyed the room, blinking in the darkness, and took in the shapes of furniture covered in white sheets. It was as if a convocation of phantasms watched him.