Il Diavolo's Archives

Archives

Home

Credits

The Devil Went Down To...

He hadn't really finished his job threatening the Star of Order, but it was boring the hell out of him, and there was the nagging matter of that voice on the telephone, his voice...

Il Diavolo didn't like the idea of there being another Caine running around. A quick side-track couldn't hurt anything either. The man wouldn't still be in the Latticework, no Caines were that stupid, but it would be a good place to start looking for clues.

The Devil blinked out of Faolteth to Arigan's house.

The house appeared empty. The door slammed shut and then open, again and again, prevented full closure by the open deadbolt. The noose that hung from the upstairs balcony swung in the same wind. Upstairs, a light appeared to be on, the one pinpoint of amber light in the night-drenched place.

I.D. raised his eyebrows at the empty noose. He didn't figure anybody would still be here, aside probably from the body of Arigan, and while he understood the idea of fear tactics, the idea of using them on him made him chuckle.

He began to move about the place, searching it slowly and thoroughly for signs of what had befallen.

He started with the lower floor, since he was already there.

It was completely empty. The pantry had been unloaded of some foodstuffs, tobacco, a few other things. Arigan's diary lay open upon the chair near the fireplace. It spoke of finding the girl, of taking her to Il Diavolo, and then of hearing some odd noises at night and whether or not he should investigate, since he knew the town of Three was very haunted.

~Of taking her to Il Diavolo? Obviously the kid hadn't made it that far... Haunted...~ The Devil closed the diary, wondering if Arigan had investigated, or if the ghost had just found him. It didn't really matter.

He moved upstairs.

Arigan's body lay in the room from which the light had come. It was a lamp by his bedside. Arigan, obviously strangled or hanged, dead perhaps a day, had been arranged upon the made bed. Little girls' dresses, lacy and ruffled, were laid out all around him, and his hands had been folded over a small rag doll. The doll was missing an eye, and had what looked to be real hair. Red hair.

Il Diavolo chuckled. "And when I get excited," he sang, examing the scene in greater detail, checking the dresses, the hair, the color of the doll's remaining eye, and anything else of interest, "my little china girl says... baby, just you shut your mouth..."

The remaining eye was blue. The dresses seemed to be laid out as if someone expected a little girl to choose from them, but obviously the little girl was gone. The only other thing worth noting was that the window was open. Bits of fabric moved in a strong wind.

So... the girl had been here, but she was no longer. Perhaps his double had taken her. Perhaps she was dead. It was not really all that important. The important thing was to discover who had laid out this elaborate game - the other Caine... the little girl... or someone else? And what the hell was it supposed to mean?

Red hair - one blue eye... could be a reference to La Conta... but why?

He shrugged and moved on to check the rest of the upstairs.

All other evidences of the little girl were gone. There was something of a sign of a struggle in one of the bedrooms- adult clothing strewn about. There was also the faint imprint of transportation magic.

The Gentleman in Black stopped dead here, his smile vanishing. He drew in a breath, licked his lips, and focused...

The residue reminded him of Angrist.

Angrist. That just figured. Il Diavolo grinned, shaking his head in half amusement, half anger. He didn't have the time or inclination to pay another visit to Emberick, even if the other ghost was still there. He pulled out his trump of the Maestro and concentrated on it.

The Maestro did not answer.

Il Diavolo swore and tried to contact La Conta.

The contact, hazy, diluted with the mental query: ~Who?~

"Me," the Devil said aloud, flashing a jackal grin. "You got a minute?"

The contact opened. La Conta was standing in a lavish bedchamber, done mostly in sombre purples. The curled figure of an unconscious redheaded boy, surrounded by glowing red glyphs, was visible upon the bed next to him.

"Apparently so. What is it that you need?"

"Information. I'm checking in before I go back to Angrist." He glanced at the boy. "I take it things are pretty yar at home, especially if that's Rinaldo."

"It is," La Conta nodded, "however, not as well as might be imagined. The Maestro reports a problem at the primal pattern. It seems that someone has made a grab for power there. I am on my way to join him."

Il Diavolo scuffed his lizardskin boots on the floor. "If you and he are going, you probably don't need an extra hand, but if you'd like a pair of eyes, I've hit a dead end for the moment, and the trail's cold already. Shall I come with?"

"Why not? But wait till I get there, and I'll Trump you through. Unless there is something you'd like to ask me regarding this dead end?"

"Nah." Diablo shrugged. "There's another ghost of Caine wandering around and I'd rather... he not. He went to Angrist."

La Conta chuckled. "Then he's hardly likely to last long, is he? I'll contact you when I've reached the Primal Plane."

The contact fades.

Il Diavolo considered that. The Count had a point, but it was better to be cautious than dead.

He glanced around again, found the gramophone and put on the record.

"Oh where are you going? said the False Knight on the road..." The song crooned.

Oldies but goodies. Old Nick sat down, chuckling, and listened to the song, waiting for La Conta to call.

Copyrights & Credits

Designed by Aethereality.net
Images © Index Stock
Textures © The Blooming Effect and Hybrid Genesis
Brushes © Relished.net and Cirratus.org and Roshiweb.com