Read The Infernal Scribe :: The Jailer

Chapter Sixteen

"The Jailer"

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[Minerva's Log: The innkeeper directed me up the stairs.]

Elara and I heard the floorboards creak as she made her way up the stairs. They entered the hallway and seemed to come to a stop right outside my door.

We looked at each other, confused, when a new log entry appeared:

[Minerva's Log: I set my hand on the door and muttered the incantation.]

My eyes widened as I quickly realized—I'm the target.

I immediately pulled Quill out of its sheath, when the door began to glow. A blinding white light emanated from its surface, then began to spread across the boundaries of the room, covering the walls, floors and ceilings in a wash of white light.

I have to get out of here!

I ran for the open window, climbed through its wooden frames, and got a single breath of fresh air when my momentum suddenly halted—

—The light had reached the window and caught my foot at the ankle. Without warning, I felt a force sucking me back in, hurling my body into the room. I hit the wall and my head snapped backwards.

As I rubbed my head in pain, I saw Elara clench her teeth in an awkward smile. "Seems like you've got your hands full here. I'll hit you up later!"

She then vanished in a puff of fire and smoke.

Elara leaving me when I need her? What else is new?

I touched my hand against the wall, instantly recoiling back as it burned my skin. I stabbed and slashed at the walls with Quill, only for it to produce harmless sparks. The entire room was enveloped in the glowing light, which meant there was no escape. I was trapped.

This has to be a trait. But does it belong to an aberrant... or a demon?

A crease formed in the light-wrapped walls. It grew into the shape of a door. Then the light within the crease went slightly transparent so I could see a familiar figure with braided auburn hair wearing a cloak made of animal pelt.

Minerva stepped through the transparent section to enter the white space, then the doorway returned to its normal opacity.

I lunged towards her with Quill, but with a flick of her wrist, I found my body hurled against the luminescent walls. Minerva then lifted her hand and Quill shot straight into her grip.

She seemed mildly interested by the dagger, running her finger along the blade.

I lied on the ground, still reeling in pain from the burning sensation the walls caused. I pushed myself onto my knees and began to speak. Then I realized no sound was coming out. It was like I was speaking inside of a vacuum.

"You can't speak in here unless I allow it." Minerva said to me. "This is a prison, and I'm the warden. Understand?"

She walked up to me and bent over so we were eye-level. She held Quill against my throat, the tip pressing against my neck.

"I'll ask you a question and you'll answer it in a single sentence. If I'm not happy with your answer, then I kill you right here. Understand?"

I nodded.

"You encountered Ulrich Licht last night. He was accused of being a witch the very next morning. Explain."

I took a moment to consider the best way to phrase the sequence of events in a way that would satisfy her. After some time, I eventually said, "The butcher saw Ulrich stalking his shop and described him to the inquisitors."

Minerva gave me a long hard stare, studying me like a detective with a suspect.

"You're an aberrant?"

"Yes."

"What's your trait?"

I didn't want to give up too much, but I didn't have much leverage here.

"It's called Scribe. It lets me track events that I've encountered."

A confused look flashed across Minerva's eyes, "Like a journal?"

I didn't feel like explaining it again. "Can I just show you?" I asked. I held up my hands to show there was no threat.

Minerva nodded slowly, still holding Quill's point against my neck. I slowly flicked my wrist and summoned my log entries.

[Log Entry: I brought up my entries to show her.]

[Log Entry: She's giving me a weird look now.]

[Log Entry: She thinks my trait is useless.]

Minerva smirked, "They're accurate, at least."

I shrugged, "I'm making do."

"You almost escaped my prison. How did you know?"

I didn't want to give away my partnerships. At the very least, I needed to maintain that leverage. "I heard you coming up. Creaky floorboards."

Minerva glanced around the room, noticing the splintered floorboards and the leaky ceiling. My lie held some water.

I felt the tip of Quill's blade lowering a fraction of a hair. She was starting to believe me. Then I recalled Ulrich's last moments. He had looked to somebody in the crowd, silently communicating with them. "You already knew Ulrich, didn't you? How did you two connect? Did you enter the circle together?"

Minerva said nothing at first. She was still sizing me up. Then she said, "It was luck. The first day I arrived, I jailed Ulrich just like I'm doing with you. He told me everything, who he was, his trait. We started to work together after that."

I cocked my head at this, surprised. What are the odds they met the first day?

Then again, the same thing happened when I arrived. One of the first people I met was her, and I saw Ulrich later that night. It couldn't be a coincidence.

"The demon that designed this circle planned this," I said. "They wanted us to meet early on. That's why we met the first day, and why you encountered Ulrich."

I saw Minerva's eyes flicker as she turned this idea over in her head. She seemed to agree with my conclusion.

She asked me, "Then we should work together, is that what you're saying?"

"Ulrich's last words, right?"

Minerva's expression hardened. She knew I was right. Ulrich's final words were "we should have trusted each other." It must have been his way of telling us there was another aberrant we should seek out.

I said, "The witch has been beating us at every turn. Five people killed. We work together, or we lose here."

I watched as Quill slowly pulled away from my neck. Finally, Minerva flipped the blade and held the handle out to me. I took it from her and slid Quill back into its sheath.

Minerva leaned in to get a closer look at my displays. She seemed intrigued by them. "Your system is odd... It doesn't look like mine."

She must be from a different time... I wonder how long she's been dead.

"What does your system look like?" I asked.

From her bag, Minerva pulled out a leather-bound journal that was locked with a metal brace. "The pages will populate with information I need. My guide will also communicate with me through these pages at times."

"What did Ulrich's look like?" I asked out of curiosity.

"His was similar to mine. It was an endless scroll, with the words being written out as he unfurled it." She leaned in closer to my displays, studying them with suspicious eyes, "Yours is the odd one here."

I was suddenly self-conscious about my displays.

"So what have you logged so far?" she asked.

I proceeded to tell her all that I knew so far. I told her about the demons I encountered, the Beast of Gévaudan and Bloody Mary. Minerva took careful attention to their traits and what abilities they had. I mentioned the inquisitors' conversation at the inn, regarding the Malleus Maleficarum, and their concern for Edric Cotton, who was feeding the town's paranoia with its contents.

Then we got to the victims. Fortunately, my logs had a sort function, which allowed me to filter the entries into character sheets.

Age: 36

Occupation: Book-seller

Death: Execution

Notes:

- Worked at bookshop owned by his brother

Age: 46

Occupation: Carpenter

Death: Killed on Night 1 by the Beast of Gévaudan

Notes:

- (Almost) voted Not Guilty during Mathus Crowley's trial

Age: 47

Occupation: Butcher's Assistant

Death: Killed by Husband

Notes:

- Married to Walter Kemp

- Casualty of Bloody Mary attack

Age: 31

Occupation: Traveling Merchant (Aberrant)

Death: Execution

Demonic Trait: Homestead

Notes:

- Protected the butcher on Nights 1 and 2—why?

Age: 51

Occupation: Butcher

Marital Status: Married to Martha Kemp

Death: Execution

Notes:

- Targeted by the witch on Night 2

- Protected by Ulrich Licht (Aberrant)

- Death was set in motion by the demon Bloody Mary

The names hovered over us like a memorial.

"Anything you want to add?" I asked.

Minerva studied the character sheets closely. She paused at the notes underneath Ulrich's name. "Ulrich made a mistake. He shouldn't have protected the butcher both nights. It gave the witch three easy kills."

"How do you mean?"

Minerva nodded. "Ulrich protected the butcher the first night only as a guess. We had no leads at that point so he applied the seal randomly. But the second night was because of you. He sensed you nearby, thought it might be the witch or a demon, so he thought perhaps it would be best to apply the seal in the same location.

"But ultimately, that made things easier for the witch. They knew the butcher's shop was a point of interest, so they targeted it, resulting in three, almost four, easy kills from a single attack."

I replied, "Then the Kemps died for no reason?"

Minerva shrugged.

I considered what she was saying. She has a point... But I can't help but feel there's something we're missing there.

Minerva continued, "We need to focus our attention on Inquisitor Hawkthorne."

"Really, why?"

"You think it's a coincidence he rushed Ulrich's trial and caused the death of one of the few aberrants in this circle?"

There was some logic there, but if the Inquisitor was the witch, it didn't make sense that he would block Edric Cotton's distribution of the Malleus Maleficarum. It would only work in his favor to fuel the fear and paranoia within the town.

But when I expressed this to Minerva, she dismissed my concerns. "You can keep following dead-ends if you want, but I want to conquer this circle."

The way she said this, I could tell she didn't view me as an asset.

She wants to keep me on the sideline. That's fine with me.

Minerva could go after Inquisitor Hawkthorne if she wanted. The man was looking for a witch, it didn't make sense to put myself in his field-of-view. Besides, I wasn't confident I could form a handshake without drawing suspicion.

"Whatever happens, we're working together now." I extended my hand. "Partners?"

Minerva stared at my hand, somewhat wary of the idea. But out of politeness, she shook it.

[Would you like to continue your partnership with Minerva Aincroft for another 24 hours?]

(Yes/No)

The display hovered over Minerva's head, unbeknownst to her. At this point I had to ask myself—could I trust her?