Page 34 of Any More Questions for the Corpse?

“I … I … opened the bag, then purple, and I couldn’t move. Then someone came out of the bag and …” He brought his hand up to his left ear and felt the handle of the knife that had killed him. “What is this?”

“It’s a stiletto,” Yu said, “a type of medieval blade common in …” Yu trailed off. “… Italy.”

“Those Medici fucks,” Erik said, frantically looking around the room. “Where is he?”

“We don’t know,” Mal said. “Just take it easy.”

“He could be anything!” Erik screamed. He went to move his hand. Mal couldn’t let that happen; Mal let go. Erik hit the floor like a sack of potatoes, clattering and folding as he slammed into the woodwork. Mal’s world swayed again beneath him, he’d been so close. He walked over and propped himself up against a wall and tried to slow his breathing.

“That could have gone better,” Yu said, inspecting the crumpled body. “What did he say? Someone came out of the bag? Must have been a shrinker; look at that thing, it’s tiny.” Yu pointed to the money bag by the window.

“Maybe,” Hala said, “That or the guy went mad on the return trip.”

“We didn’t even find out why he was here,” Des said, frustrated.

“We can always try again later,” Mal said. “Give him a bit of time, he might be less fiery.”

“What now?” Yu said.

“We keep looking,” Des said. “There’s still a killer somewhere close and I’d prefer to find them before we have to explain to the cops what happened here.”

It took Mal a moment to understand the implication of what Des was saying; that they themselves could be implicated in this crime if they weren’t careful. They did seem to have a bad knack for finding trouble—or looking for trouble? Either way, where they went trouble also went, like the pair were riding a tandem bicycle.

Mal took stock of the crime scene. Erik had entered, killed the pair with the burnt eyes, gone to take the money, was hit by a magical blast that fucked up the room, then according to Erik, a man came out of the bag and killed him. This lined up with what Mal felt with his death sense, the blasts of pain in his mind; two in quick succession, then another. But Des had burst in just seconds later, and there had been no one else in the room. So where had the killer gone? Had he shrunk back down and scurried away? Mal stared at the bag of money by the window, and was struck by a question. How did the money move after Erik died? Someone must have moved it, but who? He looked up from the bag and saw that out the window was a metal fire escape that climbed up and down the side of the building. Had the killer left via the fire escape? Surely they would have heard that window opening. And why would they leave the money? Mal stared and stared. “He could be anything” was a very odd choice of words. Like what, the desk? The fireplace? The lamp?

He stared at the lamp, and another question formed. How is that lamp still standing? Everything else in the room was pushed back or knocked about, even the chairs had toppled, but somehow this thin lamp had remained upright? He remembered how he’d tried to turn it on a moment ago, and as he looked down to see if it was plugged in, he realized something. The lamp didn’t have a power cable. It wasn’t that the lamp wasn’t plugged in, it was that it had no wire at all. It wasn’t a magic lamp, was it? If it was, it didn’t work. A lamp that wouldn’t turn on and couldn’t be plugged in. “He could be anything” rang through Mal’s mind. Was this insane? Mal knew transfiguration existed, but accusing random objects of murder seemed like a sign of madness. What would he tell the others? “Hey guys, I think the lamp is the murderer.” Would they laugh at him? He knew he would laugh at someone if they’d said that. Well, maybe not in this situation, but in general. In basically any other situation than this one, he would most certainly laugh. He realized now that he had been staring at the lamp for a good few minutes, and as he watched he thought he saw something. A small, drop of water, running down the side of the lamp shade. Was the lamp watching him watch it? Was he making the lamp nervous?

Des walked up to the lamp to try and grab Mal’s attention. Apparently, the group had been talking this whole time while Mal had zoned off staring at the lamp.

Without thinking Mal, blurted out, “GET AWAY FROM THE LAMP!”

Mal lunged forward and pulled Des away as a face appeared on the lampshade. Arms sprouted from the thin stand, which split in two from the bottom up, turning into legs. The strange lamp creature grabbed the bag of money in one hand and smashed the window with the other, then vaulted out onto the fire escape. Mal yelled out:

“GET THAT LAMP!”

15A Shade Too Dark

The lamp-man ran, light of foot and shaded in darkness. Des was through the window first, then Yu, then Mal, then Hala, all clambering out onto the rickety fire escape. The metal dinged and wobbled as they put their weight on it. Mal choked back his fear of heights; he was only a few floors up, but it was still enough to set him off. As the lamp-man descended down the metal stairs, his form changed: He fleshed out through his spindly arms and legs; his once-thin torso bulged back to normal size; his head, however, remained a lampshade with a face. Mal had never seen such drastic transfiguration before. They were a secretive lot, transfigurators, even when compared to other schools of magic who were secretive by reputation. Mal clambered carefully down the first set of metal steps. He could only see the lamp-man through the bars beneath his feet. He couldn’t let him get away. Whatever Erik had been up to, this man knew, and must have killed him for it. Whatever conspiracy was afoot, this man was part of the cover-up. Mal was thankful Des was leading the chase; she was hot on the lamp-man’s heels while they all lagged behind.

The lamp-man jumped from the bottom rungs of the fire escape and made off down the dingy back alley. Des followed suit, jumping from slightly higher up. Mal found himself saying “Fuck that” as he picked up his pace. Ahead of him, Yu expressed a similar worry; they’d gotten to the bottom of the fire escape and needed to jump the final part. Yu plummeted clumsily, but landed with a surprising grace, like a cat falling from a tree. Mal’s turn. He pushed his feet to the edge of the metal bars, and looked down. He was the highest any man had ever been. He was in fact, less than a story from the floor. He braced his body, and winced his face. He took a deep breath, and didn’t move. He didn’t think he’d ever be able to move again.

CRASH.

Hala fell into him with her full weight. She wasn’t heavy, but at speed she had enough force to barrel them both over the waterfall. Mal flew for less than a second. The wind rushing past his ears, his stomach lurching with—

The ground got up to meet him. The hard, crumbly concrete stuck to his face and hands where they’d embraced. All the wind had left him, and something painful was digging into his back. Hala seemed to have softened her fall with his body. She got up quickly and with greater ease than Mal could muster. She hoisted Mal to his feet and they continued their chase. Des and Yu disappeared around the corner in front of them. Hala tried encouragingly to get Mal to run, which Mal did, if reluctantly. He scraped the rocks and dirt from his hands as he made after them. Fortunately, when they rounded the corner, Des and Yu were stopped still, looking down at the ground. Only as Mal got closer did he realize that they weren’t staring mindlessly at the floor; they were in fact looking into an open manhole.

Mal peered over into the hole and was accosted by the smell. This wasn’t a complicated bouquet of nauseous odors, this was a singular, unwavering smell: excrement. Rusted metal bars stuck out of the sewer shaft wall, forming a sickly looking ladder into the darkness. The group exchanged grimaced looks as the putrid smell overwhelmed their expressions. Des brushed off some of the gravel that was still stuck to Mal’s face and gave him a look that said, How did you manage that? This was the shortest foot-chase in history? Mal remained silent. Des changed her eyes to the golden glow and peered down; the light illuminated more of the ladder, but not enough to see the bottom.

“Let’s get to it then,” Des said, getting herself positioned onto the ladder. Mal took a deep breath, happy to have regained that ability, and followed. One by one, the group descended down the slimy ladder into the darkness.

Tainted and cold was the water that soaked Mal’s shoes. He would have to throw them out once this was all done. The sewer was somehow less pleasant than Mal had expected. Redbrick walls curved above him, hideous dank water sloshed below him. It was cramped, but he could still stand. When Des blinked, the sewer grew impossibly dark, so Mal got out his phone to help light the way. Mal thought everything seemed more terrifying when using a flashlight; even a place as familiar as your own home seemed creepy. Like someone’s lurking in the darkness at the very edge of the light, but when you go to check, they’ve already gone. Mal thought that he’d seen scenes like this in horror films and decided this is when he would normally be shutting his eyes.

The group was jumpy, and the sound of their footsteps echoing through the thick, brick tunnel seemed to be making it worse. Des, as always, led the way; it made sense, since she could see the best and had her tracking magic doing its thing. Mal was quite grateful he wasn’t in the lead. He worried his courage would fail him. It’s much easier to follow a vampire than lead one, that’s what he always said. Well, would have to start saying.

They slopped through the sewer water for a few minutes. They found no one, except for a few rats and bugs, all of which seemed much worse for wear. Eventually, Des lead them to a dead end. It was a flat wall with a small circle at the bottom, the water clogged and pooled around its tiny entrance. Des turned around, confused.

“He should be here,” Des said, turning to face the group. “He can’t have gone through that?”