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XXXVII
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The air around them was filled with a sharp misty cold, that blurred the edges of Aiyla's vision and nipped at her nose.
She looked forwards at the huge iron gates, unkempt with grown ivy, encapsulating the derelict forgotten mansion.
"This is where Garett Gates lived," Aiyla sighed, letting her eyes flicker to Wednesday who started at her drawing for comparison, before folding and pocketing it.
Wednesday nodded, "The boy my father was accused of murdering. The sheriff told me that his family died, along with their legacy of hate."
Aiyla rose her eyebrows as they slipped past the creaky gates and began to walk towards the mansion. "But ghosts don't kill the living." Onyx cawed in agreement. "Goody showed you this house for a reason; we need to unlock its secrets."
"Or die trying," Wednesday added.
They walked as silently as they could, trying not to disturb the strange aura that embraced the place. In truth, the cold that Aiyla could feel was not just because of the weather. Her heart was beating faster with anticipation - not fear, but something else; wrath.
Find whatever is in that house, and kill it.
Aiyla clenched her jaw and tried to push it to the back of her mind.
Wednesday's eyes flickered to her best friend and she regarded her for a moment, before deciding against saying anything and instead walking towards the door.
She reached towards the handle...
A shadow flickered behind the glass.
Instantly, the two girls jumped back, and scampered away, trying to remain hidden from whomsoever it was that was exiting the abandoned compound.
They breathed as silently as they could, hearing out for the turning of a key and click of a lock as they hid behind the side wall of the house. Whoever it was, they had access to this place.
And Aiyla's eyes widened as she registered who it was, walking out of the compound.
The Mayor.
"We need a distraction," Wednesday told Thing and Onyx, and the hand gestured in agreement as Onyx thrilled quietly.
Without further a due, the bird and hand scampered/flew away.
Aiyla and Wednesday watched as the Mayor nervously paced in front of the gate, on his phone with someone. "Sheriff, pick up the damn phone, it's Noble. Listen, I might have figured out who's behind all of this."
An indistinct rattling shook the trees as Thing and Onyx threw rocks at the Mayor and the area around him. It caused him to pause for a moment and turn towards the tree and away from the car.
That allowed Wednesday and Aiyla to quickly and quietly sprint behind him and towards the back of his car.
"We'll do it over pie at the Weathervane, just like the old days. See you soon," the Mayor ended the voicemail and put away his phone.
Aiyla opened the door of the boot and let Wednesday climb in. She scampered in after her, quietly shutting it as Onyx and Thing jumped in and the Mayor looked at the tree again to see what had been causing the commotion.
Finally deciding it wasn't worth it, he got into his car and began to drive.
Trying to breathe steadily, Aiyla and Wednesday lay in the boot of the car both trying to talk silently with their eyes.
'He knows something,' Wednesday stressed.
'Maybe he's involved too,' Aiyla added.
Onyx rolled her eyes.
The drive was agonising, and Aiyla and Wednesday only allowed themselves to straighten up once the Mayor had gotten out of the car. He'd parked at the road opposite the Weathervane, giving them a nice view of their booth through the windows of the café.
And that was when she felt it.
It gave off similar energy to the Hyde, a similar anger - but less primal. This anger was potent and lethal, like a arrow with its accuracy. But it was also so strong that it made Wrath awake within her so strongly that her head span.
And then a blue Cadillac sped across the road and hit the Mayor.
Wednesday jumped back in shock horror and Aiyla's eyes widened. The Sheriff was running out of the Weathervane now and a crowd was forming around the convulsing, bloody Mayor.
Wednesday and Aiyla jumped out of the car and sped towards the scene.
Even though that same anger had gone now, the scene was left with a burning residue she could feel at the back of her throat. Like kerosene - it was fuel to a fire.
The sheriff looked up, and grit his teeth when he saw the two girls standing in front of him.
...
With the flashing lights of an ambulance disappearing down the street, Aiyla, Wednesday and the Sheriff sat in the almost empty Weathervane, still giddy with the shock of the event that had just occurred.
The Mayor had just been run over.
He may as well be dead.
"He's alive," Galpin stated, "Barely." He turned to the two of them and sighed, "I'll take you home right after I get your statement."
"We already gave it to your deputy," Aiyla started.
"Blue Cadillac with no license plates," Wednesday finished.
"Yeah, I know," Galpin took out a tape recorder from his pocket and switched it on, "I want a better one."
"What were you doing in the back of the Mayor's SUV?" Galpin interrogated, leaning forwards and narrowing his eyes.
"We saw him coming out of the Gates mansion," Wednesday answered.
"The Gates mansion?" he scoffed, "What the hell were you doing there?"
"House hunting," Aiyla replied sarcastically. Galpin rolled his eyes, "We overheard the voicemail he left you. We were inturuiged."
"Back when the Mayor was sheriff, he used to have a lot of wild theories on cases that he couldn't solve. So, we'd dissect them over pie, sitting right there in that back booth," Galpin gestured to the last booth in the row. "Most of the time, they went nowhere."
"Call us old fashioned, but when someone is run over on their way to give the police key information, it usually means they were onto something," Wednesday declared. "And all signs point to the Gates family and that house."
"The Gates family," the Sheriff shook his head, "How? They're all dead, every last one of them. And I don't believe in ghosts."
"Maybe you should," the two girls chorused.
Wednesday clicked the recorder shut and Aiyla shoved it back towards Galpin.
They stood, exiting the booth, and walked away.
But before they could leave, Galpin called after her, "Demir. What type of Outcast is your brother?"
She stopped, her blood freezing in her veins, as her hand clenched around the handle of the door. "A sharpshooter. Like me." She narrowed her eyes, "Why?"
"He doesn't use a bow," Gaplin countered.
"It's all kinds of accuracy. Arrows, knives, axes," Aiyla turned to him and glared, "If you want to go digging up some family history - don't. You've seen enough already and I doubt you could stomach any more."
Galpin's eyes landed on the badly concealed scar marring her throat, and silently agreed.