"How do you speak to the dead?" Asorotany says. He lunges forward, grabbing her forearms. "What must I do?"
Are clicks her tongue, hauling the his shirt collar. She tips her head down to his eye level. The sun dips under the horizon, last stray daylight skim over the white hull of her ram skull.
Her eyes. Scarlet. Not the clear rosy colour he saw on the roof of the shrine, but the shade deeper than blood. Like greed. Consuming everything and nothing itself.
Her pupils are tight, narrow circles, almost disappear from the sea of red.
"Kill for me." She snarls. Her breath fans his cheeks. So hot yet send a cold shudder through his body.
He closes his eyes. And when he opens them, slick, warm blood coating his hands. He looks past the space between his lanky fingers. Fische. Sprawling at his feet. Wild brown eyes accusing. Pale knuckles and teeth and lips contrasts the red pool ingesting him.
Asorotany screams, scrambling away.
He falls to his ass, arms flailing, trying to brush the filthy substance away. His eyes glue to the place Fische is supposed to be.
Nothing.
"Satisfied?" Are mocks above him.
His skin is on fire. Millions of tiny ants biting down.
"You don't know what you're diving into." She says, bending down and using her forefinger to lift his chin.
She pats his cheeks and straighten.
"I'll give you my life." He says. He wants to stand up, but he doesn't trust his legs. His inside coils when the words left his mouth. He clenches his fists. "I'll die in honour of you. You're picking sacrifices, right? I will be yours this year."
"You're a self-centre brat if you think that's enough."
"Just a glimpse. Just let me see my brother for a few seconds. Please." His voice cracks at the end.
Her fur cloak brushes against his bare arm as she walks past. She pauses at the astrew branch of Kanhizakura, sidesteps, and carries on.
"Please, Are."
She stops for a second. "Be a good boy and listen to your uncle. I've already promise Tarrow not to touch his remaining nephew." She says, then resumes. Her padding fades into the lazy wing beatings of the sparrows.
.......
Asorotany bangs into Uncle Tarrow's shaggy rented house.
"What the fuck?" Uncle Tarrow jumps from the windowsill where he's leaning against, a cigarette falls out from his teeth. He yelps as it lands on his foot, scowling when he realizes it's Asorotany.
Asorotany inhales deeply and slowly, controlling his breathing as he slams the door behind him. Turning the lock.
It's nine o'clock. He has been gone for two hours and fifteen minutes. The distance between the outskirt and downtown is at least three hours walking, there and back. Asorotany decides not to ponder how.
Outside, the world has fully submerged in the purplish darkness. Whoops and motorcycle sputters rise above the cricket singing. Shadows lurk under the sloped eaves, withdrawing behind hidden alleys. The street lights illuminate small, weak pale circles on the battered walkway.
"Where the fuck were you?" Tarrow says.
Asorotany drops his bag on the floor.
Tarrow stubs the cigarette out, deliberately flicking it out of the window. "I saw you tailing that woman."
Asorotany stares back at his Uncle. "Were you there as Are killed Fische?"
Tarrow's shoulders jerk at the question. An odd look fleets across his face. Not a confused expression at the abrupt change to a dangerous topic, it's a alerted, guilty one.
"Fische committed suicide. Nobody killed him." Tarrow says. His eyes dissecting Asorotany's movements.
It takes all he has to not sneer and lunge forward. "Were you there when she killed Fische, Uncle?" He repeats, quieter.
"What the hell did she tell you?" Tarrow pushes himself upright, stretching to his full height.
"Fuck it. Answer me." Asorotany snaps. Anger spilling over the calm facade he's trying hard to hold back. "Answer me." Asorotany snarls.
"You ain't thinking straight, Asoro." Tarrow stalks up. His Uncle's beefy hands raise in defence. Asorotany knocks them aside, jumping back to avoid being caged.
"Fine. How about we talk about how you and Are, then? How long did you know her? No, scratch that, what're you doing for her?"
"Are you suspecting me a murder? Me, your uncle?"
Asorotany doesn't answer.
Tarrow's front teeth skim over his bottom lip before his chin tucks out like a boxer about to enter the ring. "You think I can kill my nephews? Oi, am I that cold-hearted? Am I a monster to you?"
"Maybe," Asorotany says. He doesn't know anymore. Too many new, vague variables that jumble up this whole case. Fische's death isn't just a suicide, nor it's a simple murder anymore. Suddenly there are magic and God and his only relative holding back secrets.
"Did Fische's death related to the sacrifice thing?"
Tarrow averts his eyes.
"It is." Asorotany breaths. He suddenly feels light-headed. A nausea washes over him. He shoves Tarrow aside with his shoulder and swoops for his bag.
"Asoro, what're you doing?"
"What do I look I'm doing? I'm going to fucking kill that woman." Asorotany spins. His fist connects to Uncle Tarrow's midsection. Tarrow stumbles back, but doesn't lose his balance. He grabs Asorotany's shoulders, pressing down, crushing the bones.
"Fische did committed suicide, okay? He wasn't murdered, okay? It's complicated."
"Like hell it is." He yells in Tarrow's face.
"I cannot tell you much else, I've pledge myself to secrecy. But please, it's not what you think."
Asorotany grunts, wrenching, pain screams where the old man grips him. He swings his leg, his knee rams into Tarrow's groin. Tarrow hisses through clenched teeth, doubling over. Asorotany bolts for the exit. His sneakers stomps across the threshold.
"Asoro, don't."
He doesn't look back at Tarrow.
A warm breeze kisses his cheeks as he rushes out. He kicks a broken chunk of concrete with his foot, accidentally steps onto a puddle of piss.
Flanking the graffiti-degraded walls, hiding under the meek streetlight, are tight group of teenagers and men perching on motorcycles or bikes. They are talking in hushed tone, sometimes will howl in unison. Some throw him a look as he storms past, others call out if he wants a night, hooting as they say it.
He grits his teeth to not bark out a rebuke.
A moan catches his attention.
Asorotany slows, still, listening for the muffled cry. On the left. He tiptoes over and flattens himself against a cement electric pole, peering into the hooded darkness of a ginnel. He eases his bag off his shoulders, careful not to make a sound when he set it down.
He squints. The light doesn't reach in far, only enough so him can make out two moving shadows, leaning against a stack of wooden framed boxes. A couple. The girl rolls her head back while her boyfriend, a grizzled bear in human skin, pounding away. The atmosphere is musky with sex and semen and a harsh, bitter smell of beer. Her glasses slips off the bridge of her nose, tears and sweat slick the side of her face.
Asorotany shakes his head and about to leave when their eyes lock.
"Help," She whispers. Her plead comes out no more than a squeak.
The guy guffaws as he pumps faster. "Scream louder, babydoll. My buds would definitely want to joy the fun."
Asorotany frowns, scanning the ground. A purple bag lays astrew on the ground, its content half-exposed. The boyfriend's outfit, factory worker canvas clothes, contrasts the girl's three-piece suit.
His body moves the same second his head clicks everything in place.
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