King of Swords [ Regulus Black ]

Chapter 19

I don't know what to do with the body. Jarrel Bennett cannot remain on the kitchen floor. I am not confident that anyone will come looking for him at a muggle's home, but Maslin or Haro could pop in unannounced.

First, I need to shower. No, actually, I need to cover him up. I can't keep looking at him. Nobody really prepares you for what comes after killing. It is a slow build to a painful climax. The adrenaline that courses through me is raw, but wrong. I am steady in my movements, dropping a throw blanket over his body. Yet, my mind can't seem to focus on anything at all.

A leaf rustles against the window and I nearly jump out of my skin. There is no time to shower. I only know one person that can do anything about this, and as reluctant as I am to find him, I must.

I run my hands under the sink for a moment, they will require thorough scrubbing to get the blood from beneath my fingernails. My cloak gallantly waits for me downstairs but my movements are suddenly sharp as I maneuver the steps. Jarrel really did a number on my ribs.

With careful breathing and much patience I make it to the foyer. As I rip the cloak from the wall, something rolls across the floor and thuds against my foot. A small, round, foil covered trick. I must have shoplifted one more smoke bomb than I thought. It's been sitting at the base of coat rack for days. It feels like manna from heaven, an impossibility afforded to the undeserving.

The alley behind the Three Crowns pub is where I once found Regulus. I keep my head low and bloody face cast down as I head there.
I realize upon leaving the flat block that if anyone sees me with trails of Jarell seeping down my bare legs, I will have bigger problems. I can't think, why can't I fucking think?

The alley is illuminated only by a singular orange bulb. I kick a trash can without thinking about the noise it will make. I rip the bomb from it's metal casing, pulling the stem to ignite. It shoots through the air in a puff of dark smoke, the serpent weaves over the white city. How long I wait in that alley, I cannot say. Moments pool together like passing days.

I have no idea how to get his attention if this doesn't work. The sky above is otherwise unclouded, a showcase of painted constellations. I look for the embers of Regulus and wish it were that easy.

I am turning in circles when the orange light flickers on the brick. As it does, a shadow crawls down the cobbled stones. Thick, dark tendrils reach out and caress my arm.

"Oh, little magpie," he says, taking in my blood spattered cheek, "what have you done?"

-

"A meat clever? I am going to call you the butcher," Regulus says, kicking Jarrels body.
The limp corpse jiggles in a way that makes me feel sick. Rigor is starting to set in on the extremities but the torso is still pliant.

"Please, dont," I reply from my seat on the sofa, "he said he had a change of employment before I stabbed him. Was he one of yours?"