Catheris tip-toed towards the main lounge's entrance. He hid behind the door and peeked from the side. It was the same opulent spectacle— beautiful women with their lavish, flowy, attire in their own little cloud nine.
All those perfumes dulled his sense of smell, the air was starting to become a stale mess.
Catheris edged over to get a look at the commotion. A high-pitched scream rang out from the center of the room, its strained cracks echoing through the vicinity. A trembling vibration settled uncomfortably in his chest. The madness of the scene reflected in his dull obsidian irises, his eyes widening like a cat's pupils.
The isolated figure stood like a disease amongst the crowd. Her short blonde hair was a manic mess. She choked herself, hugging her neck in a death grip as if it was about to fall to the side and snap. She shivered like a caged animal.
Maisie's blown-out yellow eyes resembled dandelions. Her petal-like irises monstrously fanned out in a hypnotic trance.
The grandiose double doors at the other side of the room opened. A saggy, but imposing old man limped in with his cane with a sly looking aide right beside him. Silence swept across the room in an instant, tension so thick a knife could cut through. Intriguingly enough, both wore the necromancer insignia.
The saggy grandpa was muttering gibberish to the aide. He looked so gentle — nobody would suspect a sweet word he's said. With the aide in tow, he approached Maisie.
The old man had a pitiful, saccharine voice.
"So they've begun to bloom in winter. Handle this dear lady."
He turned to the aide to take care of the matter and creaked off.
When the aide's eyes met hers, Maisie's wracked composure softened upon the sight of him. He gave her an arm for support and began walking her to the flower den. The casualness of the situation was like handling a drunk person.
Catheris fiddled with the underside of his nails, feigning ignorance.
Catheris: (¬_¬")
"Shhhh… there, there, Ms. Maisie."
The aide gently patted her shoulders.
She gasped in a sharp huff of air. Her deep breaths eased towards a moment of clarity. For a brief second, she snapped her head towards Catheris, meeting eyes with him. Her restless eyes had that peculiar glaze. The aide took the chance to push her into her room, using the master key at his side to lock her in.
….
Awkward.
Just as Catheris settled in—the only person he got along with was out of the picture already. Why did things have to get more complicated than they already were? Give it a rest.
He stared down the hallway for the right moment to leave. He breathed in and out. It was time for his little getaway.
"And where do you think you're going?"
The aide's big, muscular forearm dragged Catheris' neck. Blinking in sheer confusion, Catheris deadpanned. He accepted it, staring off into the distance.
He snapped back to reality when a tingle pulse through his wrists. He looked down to see the aide pressing his palm.
Ink.
Oh…
….
Catheris didn't have the energy to react—he huffed and nodded.
At the end of the hall was a grand spiral staircase that went down. Catheris was dragged down and cornered behind the stairs.
The bureau agent looked around the room before forcing Catheris into a one-sided conversation. He went on about his stupid dog—but never said the dog was stupid outright.
Tilting his head in a degrading manner, Catheris finally responded.
"So, what's the name of your dog?" Catheris glared.
"Beo—isn't it cute?" The white-haired bureau member stated so… emotionlessly.
Like anyone would ever think you meant it with that voice. Tsk.
'Beo' was apparently a dumb husky with red streaks across his fur. Was it bad Catheris couldn't tell if he was talking about a dog Beo or Mr. Beo Beo. He'd heard of some serious coworker low-blows in the BoPA before, so... being that petty was a possibility.
The Bureau of Paranormal Activity had all sorts of crazy stories. It wouldn't be too surprising if there were a Romeo and Juliet scenario.
"Do you have any pets?" The man asked, the tone in his voice asking something different.
Straight to business, huh? Cat-theris… was, well, too obvious to use as his code-name.
"My girl Athaca… She recently had a playdate, but all the other kitties kind of ignored her and played together as usual. You see, the others have known each other since they were kittens."
"I've seen that before. The owners began spoiling the new kitty because it looked lonely, while the other kitties played in blissful ignorance. It was a dangerously cute cat."
"A dangerously cute kitty." Catheris found himself mentally stumbling over the words for his next question—a bit at a loss for words (dangerously cute?).
"Is that why they brought the new kitty over?"
"Yes. They wanted to see it more often."
"I see, so how did the baby react?"
"It didn't have a moment to. The poor thing was caught up in cuteness aggression. They just wanted to eat him right up."
…
Definitely not the best thing to hear when, apparently, a crazy cannibalism cult was involved. Of course, Catheris should've expected this, but for the saintesses' sake—why was he involved?
"Apparently, they were really cute playdates. They even made lots of cat-shaped treats for all the kitties to eat."
Catheris' face sunk, his face growing dark and his lips taut.
…
"Mhm, that could be fun for our playdates."
"Luckily, that dangerously cute kitty had all the time to explore when it wasn't being spoiled. So it wasn't all bad."
"I see. I'll keep that in mind."
"It's important to supervise the cats. If I were you, I wouldn't want mine getting into a dangerous situation."
The bureau member gestured to the end of the hall — there was a door.
"Of course, I would never."
A vibration came from the bureau member's breast pocket, and he left through the door he had warned Catheris of.
'Huuuu…'
He looked up the stairwell and dreaded the number of steps he had to go up. At least he had flats.
Just catch your breath, Catheris. That's right. Take a few breaks — that makes going back up seem more manageable, hm? What a headache this whole situation was.
So far, his only findings were that poem (though he had no idea what that had to do with all of this,) the cannibal cult insignia, and the mermaid decor that pointed to Naeda being involved somehow.
He'd have to talk to that bureau member later—a little guidance would be nice. Were the widows oblivious to everything, or were they influenced by the cult? It was hard to say with insufficient evidence.
BANG! BANG! BANG!
Someone was banging on the other side of the door, practically screaming to get in.
Catheris' hair flew across his face as he quickly pulled his long skirt off the floor and ran up the stairs.
The door slammed open with a final blow.
He glanced down for a second. Catheris paused, pushing himself up against the wall as he tiptoed up the steps.
The old man's saggy skin hung off bare bones. His eyes were fogged up, and his every movement was aimless. He was like a zombie that moved with the aching stiffness of rigor mortis. And flashing on that guy's lapel was that damned rotten insignia.
Not wanting to risk it, Catheris slowly made his way upstairs. Today was not his day.