Chapter Seven

"Room 207"

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The sun began to rise over the town of Honeywell. The people stirred and their days began. Soon they would emerge from their homes and discover one of their own, slain and mutilated, while a traveling merchant, soaked in blood, hid in a nearby alleyway.

Doesn't matter that I've got the same claw marks on me as the victim. I'll be an easy scapegoat for their damn witch trial. 

I had to get out of there. 

Let's look for an inn. Once I'm safe indoors I can come up with a plan. 

First, I had to change my clothes, which were torn to shreds and covered in blood.

The streets were still mostly empty. If I was going to move, it would have to be now. I quickly ripped a strip of fabric from my sleeve and wrapped it tightly around the gash on my forearm. Then, I spirited my way through the town, clinging to the walls and shadows.

I passed a window where clothes were hanging to dry, snatched a black cloak off the line, then wrapped myself in the thick fabric to hide most of the blood. 

Bundled up, I traveled through the town undetected.

I arrived at the town's inn, safe and sound. It was located on the edge of town. I could even see the top of the canopy of trees from the surrounding forest.

I nearly entered through the front entrance, when I noticed in the window's reflection that there were specks of blood on my neck and my hair was a messy tangle of sweat and blood.

Oops. That could've been really bad. I need to clean up.

I looked around desperately, and found a sign posted to a stand in front of the inn: "Well Water Out Back—Guests Only".

I breathed a sigh of relief and slipped around to the rear of the inn, where I found a small grassy area. Tucked in the corner, by the wooden fences, sat an old well made of weathered gray stones.

I hobbled over to the well, practically collapsing before it, lowered the bucked, and pulled up some fresh well water. Just a sip of the cool, refreshing water rejuvenated me, washing away my exhaustion. Once satisfied, I poured the water onto my hands and wiped the blood off my neck and hands. 

As I used the water to make my hair even slightly presentable, I heard the rustling of leaves. My eyes darted over and I saw a young boy, not older than ten with sandy-brown hair standing before me. His eyes were wide with terror at the sight of me. 

Shit... How much did he see?

I put on a friendly smile, "Hey, buddy..."

'Hey, buddy'? That doesn't sound creepy at all.

I noticed he was holding a woven laundry basket. Maybe he worked for the inn.

"Sorry about the well. I was going to get a room first, but I was dying of thirst. Just got in from a long trip."

The boy's fear eased a little, but his suspicions were unwavering. 

"You have to check in first," he said, putting on a strong front. "Talk to my father. He's inside."

His father? Oh, he must be the innkeeper's kid.

"Thanks, I'll do just that."

The boy stole one more suspicious glance from me, then scurried off with his basket of laundry in hand. 

* * * * * * * * * * *

"That'll be fifty crowns." The innkeeper said, his face stern and unmoving like a statue. "Per night."

His name was Baldwin Beaumont. He had gray hair cropped short to hide the thinning. He had the air of a shrewd businessman that had learned many hard lessons and was determined not to repeat his mistakes.

I rifled through my pockets for the money I had pulled from the inventory. I had only the few coins that I took off the Beast's victim and some antique coins that had come with my role as a traveling merchant.

When I set them on the counter, Beaumont pushed the antique coins back to me. "We don't accept these."

I leaned forward, putting on my best salesman front, "Those are worth a lot of money though. And they're only going up in value."

Beaumont took a second look at the coins, studying them closely. "What else do you have?"

I've got him.

I left to retrieve more antique items from my inventory, then set them carefully on the counter. The innkeeper studied each piece closely, then lingered on a stack of books and an old map of the world. 

"I'll take these," he said, already pulling them in. "That'll buy you two nights."

I set my hand on the map. "You can take the books. And I want three nights."

The innkeeper's face scrunched as he did some internal calculations. After a moment he gave in, "Fine. Your room is on the second floor. Third room on the right. There's a well outside if you need water. Dinner's at sundown and it'll cost an extra ten crowns."

I started towards the room, then doubled back. "Oh, and could I get some bandages?"

Beaumont reached below the desk, grabbed a wooden first-aid kit, and removed a roll of bandages. When I reached for it, he snatched it back "It's a crown per inch."

As I unrolled the bandages, he kept careful track on a piece of paper, making a mark for every inch. I couldn't help but respect the hustle.

* * * * * * * * * * *

The stairs creaked with every step I took. The walls had been painted with an intricate design that had long since faded. The inn must have been at least several generations old. 

I began to wonder how things worked in this Circle. For example, the innkeeper, Beaumont, must have chosen that role at some point during his journey and now he's forced to play out this role for eternity. But what about his child? Does the age of the aberrant affect the roles he can play? 

I considered asking Elara. I doubt she would give me a straight answer though. She conveniently forgot to tell me anything unless it was immediately important.

I arrived at my room. It was a humble space, with only a twin-sized mattress filled with hay and a wobbly trestle table in the corner. There was a distinct musty smell, and the warped, water-stained floorboards suggested a leaky roof was the probable cause.

Still, I was exhausted and the soft wool bedsheets were calling for me. I removed the cloak, peeled the blood-soaked shirt off my skin, then bandaged the wounds tightly until the bleeding had stopped. Then I collapsed onto the bed and the wave of fatigue I had been holding back washed over me all at once.

My eyelids grew heavy and just as the warm embrace of sleep lulled me in, I caught a glimpse of something that sent shivers down my spine...

... Dark, melancholic eyes peering at me from a narrow crack in the door. 

I slowly turned over, careful not to give away what I saw. With my back to the stranger, I pulled the demon bone from the inventory. 

A moment to collect my composure, then I sprang to my feet, bolting towards the door in a swift motion. Just as the eyes pulled away from the crack, my hand shot forward, grabbing hold of what felt like fabric. 

I yanked the figure through the doorway and slammed them against the wall. I had the demon bone in hand, prepared to strike, when I finally saw who I was threatening. 

The intruder was a girl, just barely in her twenties. A sleeved black dress fell over her thin, skeleton-like frame. The dress was patched in certain places with a similar, but markedly different fabric. Wavy locks of gray hair fell over her face, but large, gloomy eyes peeked through the gaps.

The faint scent of ammonia wafted over me. I scrunched my nose as it stung my nostrils.

She looked petrified, her shoulders trembling.

"I-I'm sorry," she stammered in a soft, mousy voice. "If you want the room, you can take it..."

My eyebrow raised in confusion. "What do you mean?"

"This is my room, but you can have it if you want..."

Confused, I poked my head out the door and checked the number on the room.

"No, this is my room... Room 205." I said. 

The girl's eyes widened as she realized. I thought they were big before, but now they seemed like two bottomless abysses. 

"Oh, I'm so sorry..." she muttered. "I got the numbers wrong..." 

I studied her reaction and it seemed genuine. I stepped aside to let her pass. She scurried out of the room to the one across from mine. She tapped the room 207 sign with her finger, then escaped to her own room. 

As she shut the door behind her, I noticed something odd—sitting atop her bed was a row of small, hand-sewn dolls made of what looked like hemp. They each had buttons for eyes and their own assortment of clothes and accessories.

In that short moment before the door shut, I came to a decision.

Okay, she's definitely the witch.