Series of Death, Draft 02, CH 50 (Patreon)

Knowing the house belonged to a hunter gave it a different sense. It was no longer where someone lived; it was where someone operated from. That this hunter, this Nikal—he had trouble not thinking of him as Al’garinam still—had moved into his territory, near his house, unsettled him. Nearly a year ago, Marlot hadn’t received lost IDs yet. As far as he knew, the hunter hadn’t killed his first predator until months later. Was the closeness a coincidence? Had he already planned on involving Marlot? Al—Nikal—said he tried not to kill. Had he already known he wouldn’t be able to?

It scared Marlot how little he could make sense of the male still. At least he was now confident he and Trembor had nothing to do with the motivation to kill. It had come long before their problems occurred and as far as he could work out, even if the hunter had watched them from afar, it wasn’t until they broke up that he took an ‘interest’ in their relationship.

The house was still as empty as it had been when Marlot came to look at the body; he purposely refused to think of it as having been Gorrek. That male didn’t deserve to be acknowledged anymore. Now, though, the emptiness made a little more sense. Nikal was meticulous, and no matter how much time he’d spend here, Marlot was certain that anytime he left, he made sure no evidence of his presence remained.

Had the protectors made Nikal the hunter he was, or had he joined them hoping it would be an environment where his need to kill could be harnessed? He didn’t know if he’d ever find out. Nikal hadn’t been forthcoming on his past; Marlot didn’t expect that would change.

He returned to the kitchen after the walk around. It hadn’t told him anything new; now it was time for a more in-depth look. The enforcer had looked around too, but they had been looking for clues as to who the killer was, not who Nikal, a hunter, was.

The cooler was empty. No greens, no vegetables of any kind. Had there ever been some? Or had Nikal cleaned out after the body, knowing he wasn’t returning here? One plate in the cupboard, one glass, one set of utensils, all immaculate. The one clashing element was the table and chairs. They were old, dented and clawed. Something Marlot expected had been picked up from the curb. An element of pure practicality among the neatness of the house. Other than being old and used, the set was clean.

The living room was empty as well. The carpet had indentations where furniture had been, but it was matted so flat it could be from the previous occupants. The walls were… they weren’t an exact match in color to the hall, which matched the kitchen. Moving close, he could make out the scent of paint, something recent enough to still cling to the surface despite the air circulation system running strong until it was turned off after the body was found. Definitely not a year old.

He ran a hand over the wall. Why would Nikal bother repainting a living room he didn’t use? Leaning against it, took his pad and went over the enforcer reports. He searched for ‘out of the ordinary’ and came up with something that could explain the paint. A neighbor had seen drywall by the entrance a little more than a week ago. So repairs.

He looked at the room. Why would Nikal wait close to a year to fix something? Had it finally bothered him? Only Marlot didn’t get the sense the hare would have endured something wrong for long without doing something about it. So the reason had been recent. He checked the timing. Before when he’d received the body’s ID; unless the neighbor was off the scent about when he’d see the drywall.

The only thing Marlot could come up with was damage caused by a fight. Only the one fight he knew had happened here was in the bedroom. There was no visual evidence of one, but the drywall indicated wall repairs.

To be sure, he walked around the house again, sniffing each wall, and only the living room one had the faint scent of fresh paint. He placed his pad against the wall and turn its light on. He’d seen one of the RI do this during the hunt for Ruxul. They’d found where they thought he’d hid and a wall had been repainted. The light had caused inconsistent shadows where the walls had been patched up. Three had been old repairs, but one had been to cover up a cache of items from the victims. That find had been what had finally put them close to the hunter’s trail, and his end.

Here, Nikal had repainted the entire room, possibly to further hide the work, but Marlot found places where the wall had been repaired. He marked the shapes. Most were small; smaller than his fist. Large enough to be a hare’s fist? Possibly. But why would Nikal strike the wall? If he understood one thing about the hare was that he was controlled. He didn’t even scream when Marlot tried to anger him.

“No, that’s wrong,” he whispered. Nikal had become agitated after his attempt to get Marlot and Trembor to talk. Things hadn’t gone as he’d wanted. In a way, Nikal had lost control. Could this be another manifestation of that event?

Only he’d been calm again before he vanished, leaving only a pad for Marlot to find. Something in that conversation had let the hare find control again. Purpose? Marlot didn’t exactly recall what he’d said, but not long after that he’d received the body’s ID, and while he hadn’t realized it, his interaction with the lion had lead to his realization of why Trembor reacted the way he did.

The hunter had given him the key to fixing his relationship with Trembor.

What did it say about him that it took a hunter’s intervention for Marlot to understand his mate better?

One patch was a straight line, a rectangle. The one place that wasn’t what Marlot was thinking of as the hare striking the walls. He used a claw to score the shape in the paint, then dug deeper until he was halfway through the drywall. He broke an upper corner and carefully pulled the rest out.

Behind it, on a crossbeam, rested a picture of a young raccoon. Quite young. If he was of predation age, he’d just had a birthday. It was a printout and next to it was a newsies article, also printed, about the deplorable underage death of a raccoon at the hand of a predator. No names were mentioned; to protect the family and raise the odd the perpetrator would have his time in court.

There was an air of reverence to how the picture and article were arranged, but Marlot couldn’t understand why Nikal would have this. Why he would care about this one death, underage or not. A search on the network told him when it occurred, a little more than a week ago, so it lined up as being the reason for the repairs, the damage, the anger. But why would Nikal be angry about this?

“He’s crazy,” Marlot told the room. Only it was the simple answer. Hunters were insane, the research agreed, but Nikal felt more in control. He looked at all the marks he’d made where the hare had punched the wall.

“Usually.” He filed the article as something to investigate once he was done with the house.

And he found himself back in the room where the body had been found. The only other evidence of anger on Nikal’s part, but this one, Marlot felt he understood, now that he knew why the hunter had put him on the body’s scent.

There had been no intent on Nikal’s part for Marlot to become interested in the lion. The hare probably hadn’t even expected the lion to pursue him. It was clear now that interpersonal relationships weren’t something Nikal understood well. The hare had followed the lion. Possibly to see if Marlot got the message, or maybe just because the lion was going to die no matter what. He’d sent the ID to Marlot. The pattern was set. Nikal had to kill him.

The one exception to the pattern, Marlot realized, was Trembor. Nikal had sent him the ID and made a point of saying that even if the circumstances were usual, they would do.

Had the dead rhinoceros been how the hare was able to not kill Trembor?

Here he’d killed this lion because he had put Marlot’s relationship with Trembor in danger. Marlot was giving in. He’d lost hope of ever getting back with his lion; and even understanding this one was a difficult male. He would have taken him because at that point Marlot would eventually have said yes to just about anyone, to chase the pain away.

So here he was. With still more questions than answers, in this house where Nikal had lived. Where Nikal would know he’d come back as soon as Marlot worked out he lived here.

The sense of the house changed again and his hackles rose.

The hare had wanted him to come back. He’d wanted him to return and see… what? The living room? If so, why had the body been left here? In the one room, other than the kitchen, with furniture.

He searched the bed, pulling off the mattress, looking for cuts that had been sewed closed, for something taped under the box spring. Nothing. Short of clawing them open, they contained nothing.

He pulled the drawers open. They were also empty. He cursed, frowned, then pulled the second one open again. In the front left corner was a bloodstain. He knew he’d checked the dresser when he’d been there the first time. Had that been there?

He went back to the enforcer reports until he found the one about the bedroom. He found the picture of the dresser, the drawers, this drawer.

There was no stain. None of the drawers had stains.

No one other than the enforcers should have been in this house since the body was found. There was a lock on each door to ensure that, but Marlot knew how easy those were to bypass.

It could be some random person breaking into the house and rummaging for something, maybe some souvenir that a crime had been committed.

“Sure,” Marlot said sarcastically, pulling the drawer out. “And by the time this is over, Nikal’s name will be on my mating contract instead of Trembor’s.”

This was Nikal. The bastard had returned and left this message for Marlot. Checking the drawer revealed there was a compartment there, but after searching for a few minutes for how to open it, he had to break the underside to access it.

In it, he found folders, sixteen of them, each with a pair of people in them. Many of the same species, but not all. Most male and female pairs, but there were three female pairs and one male pair that unsettled him.

That they were couples, he realized on reading the second folder’s names. Poluk and Bradin Yelloweyes, both wolves. Wolves were strong on settling on one family name to represent their mating. His mother had taken on the Blackclaw name on mating with his father. He’d considered taking Goldenmane, even before they were mated, but he didn’t have a mane, so he’d decided to wait and see if Trembor would bring it up.

So, couples, most of which Nikal at killed one partner? Why? A quick read didn’t tell him, and he didn’t have the time to read through all of them. He found the names of the victims he knew of, and four he didn’t know. A search on the Yelloweyes brought up the breaking of their mating contract along with Poluk’s death, unclaimed body, almost a year old.

“Well, at least I know you didn’t start this with me in mind,” he whispered.

Two of the folders had all four still alive, and he looked the first one more carefully. Arbine Thinderhoof, female bison, in a relationship with Dalial Curvedhorns, female, antelope. Pictures of them together at a restaurant. Of them dancing at a club. Arguing; this picture through the window of a house.

“Quite the stalker, for a prey species, Nikal.” But it didn’t tell him why he had them marked as potential targets.

The last folder was the one that bothered him the most.

His and Trembor’s.

Like the others, there were pictures, including some in Low Valley. Now that he knew Nikal was a hare, not noticing him among the prey population there, made more sense. There were more pictures than any of the other couples. Something about them had interested the hare. Mix with them were articles about Ruxul’s capture, the part Marlot played in it, a vital one if they were to be believed.

“You are smarter than to believe anything you read, Nikal, so why me?”

He pulled a picture of him and Trembor, soaked in blood, resting against a tree. The coyote’s remains weren’t visible, but Marlot remembered that day; that meal. That moment, one of the last truly happy times he had.

“You had no business spying on us.”

Gorrek’s picture surprised him, but once he was over that surprise, the rest didn’t. Hospital files with Trembor’s name on them. He looked through each and every injury that lion gave to his and again it was a good thing he was a body already.

Knowing the extent of Trembor’s suffering, Marlot couldn’t imagine the strength he had taken Trembor to interact with other people again. To let anyone get close to him. To risk getting hurt like that again.

And Marlot had done just that.

His pad buzzed, then beeped, telling him he’d received a file.

The picture appeared first and Marlot was running out of the room. The hare had his lion tied to another chair, head help up by him grabbing a handful of mane. He reached the living room when he realized the mane was too golden to be Trembor, but he didn’t slow. The resemblance was there; it was one of his brothers. He had so many Marlot couldn’t tell which one.

His pad buzzed; a text this time.

I’m afraid our game has to come to an end. The pieces are taking their places. If you won’t end it, I will end them.

It buzzed again. This time it was an address.

Them, one was the brother, the other one had to be Trembor.

He wanted to call the enforcer; he’d promised himself he’d do this the right way. But the hare had made sure he couldn’t. If he even suspected Marlot brought in anyone else, he knew that lion was dead, and Trembor would never forgive him for playing a part in that.

Nikal had just made sure Marlot would kill him. Just like the hare wanted.

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