Strike at Midnight(89)

His address had led me to a three-story building that stood on the borders of a cobbled road. It was a white house with black timber that supported the structure from the outside, and it had shutters on each of the windows. They were either there for decoration, or they had been left behind from the original build of the house because the windows now had glass in them. I stepped up to the wooden door to bang on it hard enough to wake the dead.

After a few attempts of knocking and waiting, it was pretty evident that no one was rousing to answer the door. It was strange, because even if Lord Peacock wasn’t here or being a lazy ass, he should have some live-in staff who would be up and getting ready for the day. Where the hell is everyone?

I checked the latch and lifted it to see if the door was unlocked, and I was surprised when it jolted forward slightly in my hand. It was indeed open and ready for someone to walk through uninvited or not, and I stayed where I was as I tentatively pushed the door open.

“Lord Peacock?” I shouted into the shadowed hallway, but no sound came back to me. “Anyone?” Still no answer. Great. I was going to have to walk into a house that looked way too eager to take me into its fold of silent creepiness.

I glanced back at the street, and it bolstered me a little when I saw a few people walking about. There weren’t many, but at least there were some live bodies around to hear me if I screamed the place down. Feeling a little bit more confident, I stepped into the house.

“Lord Peacock?” I shouted again, not wanting to be caught in his home if he was just sleeping in. But still no reply.

There was a door to the left of me, so I opened it and popped my head in. The early morning light lit up the room enough to show that it was a sitting room of some sort, but there was no one in there. I closed the door and stepped back to see another door just past the stairs on my right.

My slow steps made the floor creak beneath me, and the sound of it added to the tension that was building up from the silence inside the house. I rolled my eyes at my own reaction to it, then I quickened my pace to try and shake off the irrational fear that was starting to rise up inside of me. I pushed the second door open.

“Lord Peacock?” I asked as I popped my head in, but the drapes were drawn in this room. “Hello?”

No reply. Not good when I was standing on the brink of entering a dark room with a feeling of eeriness stroking the back of my neck like a seasoned lover.

A stench of something familiar hit me before I went to close the door and the dread of what that smell meant made me take a few deep breaths before I decided on what action to take.

The metallic scent of blood made me want to run from this house and bring in someone else to deal with what was waiting to be found, but that would just ruin my rep. All I needed to do was find my own metaphorical balls, get into the room without tripping over anything—or anyone—and open the drapes. That was all. Easy peasy, pudding and pie.

Before I could change my mind, I stepped into the room and used the wall as my guide as I walked to the back of the room where the drapes were. I worked fast, not wanting the anticipation to build this time, and I was glad that Marcel wasn’t here to see me shit myself and make fun of me for it. But seriously, who would enjoy doing something like this?

My eyes squinted at the sudden blast of light that entered the room from me opening the drapes, and I dared to turn around and see what waited for me.

“Crap,” I said as I looked at the figure lying face down on the floor. A large bloody puddle had spread out from the head and soaked into the light brown rug that was lying beneath the body. I could tell from the color of the unstained locks that it wasn’t Lord Peacock because he had black hair, whereas this poor fellow had a lighter shade. It looked like someone had smashed him over the head and crushed his skull with the bloody poker that I could now see lying by his side. Damn it.

With the bottom of my tunic now covering my nose and mouth to protect me from the smell, I leaned down and used my other hand to lift up his head to see who the dead man lying on Lord Peacock’s floor was.

“Dumpty,” I heard myself whisper as a pair of glassy eyes stared back at me from Dumpty’s features. “Shit.”

I didn’t mean to drop him back down on the floor with such little care, and the thud of his face hitting the floor made me feel a little bit sick at what I’d done. “Sorry, sorry,” I blurted out, and I didn’t know the hell why. It wasn’t like he could feel it anymore. But oh my bloody hell. This was bad.

It wasn’t the first dead body I’d seen—not in my line of work—but it was the first time I’d actually touched one who I’d met when they had been alive. It made me experience a weird feeling of sorrow and regret, emotions that didn’t feel quite right without any affection attached to them. Dumpty hadn’t exactly been in my good books on the two occasions we had run into one another, but no one deserved an end such as this one.

I stood up and wiped my brow, which had started to perspire. I needed to get the hell out of here and find out what had happened. Not forgetting that Lord Peacock wasn’t here, pointing the finger of suspicion right in his direction.

The bastard needed to be found, and I had to get to him before he could get any more of a head start. I also needed to get out of this room before the smell made me pass out. Jeez, it was gross.

“Stay where you are,” a voice shouted from behind me, and I yelped in surprise.