Burn the Ashes [DISCONTINUED]

= Ch 8: The Winter Hymnal =

I scrub a stubborn spot on the floor. My arm muscles burn from overuse. Above me, Ricky leans against the wall, focused on a bundle of wooden handles.

"No, not that one..." He measures the ends with a scored stick, trying to find one that'll fit a toolhead from the back. "Aha! This one might do the trick. Shortie, can you go grab it?"

"Sure. Who's this one for?" I toss the brush aside, springing up to a crouch.

"Kelgan. He's got the big flatheaded shovel head."

I nod. With that, I hurry to the back closet and shuffle through the clutter. Toolhead. Shovel toolhead. There, against the wall! Found it. I pick it up, feeling the rough rust that coats it. I wonder if there's a way to clean it off before we fix it up.

Fluttering from a faint draft, the curtain sections off that mysterious room. Abel lives back there. I wonder what it's like. No, I'm not going to look. That'd be an invasion of privacy, and he trusts us enough to use a curtain as a door. I shake it off and am about to leave the closet when a heavy knock sounds from the very front of the shop.

"Valens Police!" a man calls.

Fear hits me like a bullet. There is no time to feel it — I need to act. Through the closet doorway, I can see the shoulder of a tall man barely come into view. I need to get out of sight. I set down the shovel head and creep towards the curtain, silent as if my shoes were velvet.

"Does anyone by the name of Cado work here? Reports say that a girl under that name works here." A piece of paper ripples as it's pulled out. "Black hair, light blue eyes, and a right arm covered in burn scars."

"Excuse me, who called me a girl?" The other Cado growls.

Each breath is a whisper. I slip behind the curtain, trying to stop my heart from ripping out of my chest. I want to run, but there's nowhere else to go.

"No — no sir," the policeman stutters, "we're looking for —"

"I'm the only Cado that works here!" The brilliant bastard's voice cuts through the walls. "I'm a man, through and through. So unless there's somethin' you need to tell me about..."

"Thank you, sir. If you have any reports of her whereabouts, let us know immediately."

"We will," Abel hums. "Why are you looking for her?"

Paper crackles through the air. Silence. Then, Abel speaks up once more.

"I can't read," Abel states. "Nice picture, though."

"Oh, I'm so, so sorry. She has a federal charge for murder and high treason. They want her captured, dead or alive."

Murder? High treason? I only avoided reporting a self defense killing to the police! That's a local crime, I know it is! What about a trial?!

The policeman continues, "She's an assassin, they say. Tried to kill Tabler Logger, but ended up killing his son instead. Let us know if she's found."

"Leave that here," Abel says. "I'll pass the word around."

"Thank you, Mr..."

"Abel Smith."

"Mr. Smith." Paper rustles, changing hands. "Have a good day."

My blood freezes in my veins. No! I need to go, now! A pile of blankets on a straw mattress, a wall of drying clothes — no exit. Before I can find an out, the curtain tugs open. I step back into a fighting stance. My hand goes to my sword.

"Hey, hey — you're safe." Cado puts his hands in the air. "Hold your horses. We ain't letting 'em get you. We just want to know. Why didn't you tell us?"