I guess I should talk to Margaret about this artifact.
In my hands was the small box that turned one of the crooks into that baby void spawn. Right now, it felt cold, all of its power drained. However, I got the nagging feeling that something about this one was weird.
I shoved the artifact into my pocket and grabbed the bloodied clothes. On the other side of the changing room were Margaret and Kelly. The former looked at me with a smile befitting a shopkeeper, as if what had happened mere moments ago had never happened. The latter, however, looked at me with a slightly bashful expression.
She was dressed in a plaid jacket that covered a white blouse. To complement it, she wore a small hat tilted to the side of her head. Around her torso was a lightweight pair of brass plates tightened together by leather straps. What caught my eye was a gun on her right thigh. It seemed to be a self-defense model that held just a single bullet.
"Umm…" Kelly said, while staring at my drifting gaze. "Why were you so adamant about me changing clothes?" She then followed up by tilting her head just a little. "And how come you are dressed exactly the same?"
As if on cue, Margaret walked towards me with a somewhat smug expression and grabbed the clothes from my hands. She wordlessly made her way towards a door that led to the storage room of the store.
"The simple answer," I turned back towards Kelly, "is that it's cheaper to repair than to buy new."
Honestly, that was a shot in the dark. Margaret had her reasons for everything, and I am not gonna question them. I was just grateful that my bill for clothing was no longer through the roof.
Still, Kelly no longer looked as suspicious as she once was dressed up like a generic old-school detective. Now it's more like a cuter, less obvious detective. How she was dressed was not the issue right now, though.
I narrowed my gaze toward her chest. I told Margaret I needed to confirm something, so why did she dress her in something that would make me seem like a criminal?
Kelly Frost. This woman was a reporter; that much was obvious from the late-night report. She had never entered this store before, but knew of Margaret; that much could be understandable. It would not be surprising that Kelly would have friends or coworkers who were customers. The part that bothers me was her actions upon entering the store.
She looked around the store as if expecting something in particular before immediately buying it. Said item was an artifact that I collected from the cult years ago. A sheath that had the power to control others whose blood was spilled into it with its blade. However, its powers were drained thanks to the efforts of the church.
To add to that, the responses to my questions back in the alley felt strange. She said that there were no bodies in that room. I would have called her out on that lie, but she spoke as if it were the truth. It would be impossible to clean up that mess from the time I left and when the public caught wind of the situation.
"Hmmm…You're staring kinda hard…" Kelly's voice pulled me out of my thoughts. She was squirming a little while covering her chest with both hands. "I get I said I'd do anything, but can it not be here? Rather, can it wait? I'm not fully mentally prepared."
Then there was this misunderstanding. Even if I had taken her job for the reward of doing anything I'd ask, why was she so focused on that part? Not only that, she seemed to behave completely differently on air than in person. The Kelly Frost I knew was bolder. She was able to dig deep into the cases I had brought to light. Hell, there were moments she tried to stalk out potential crime scenes to unmask the Golden Detective.
But this woman was timid. I can accept that people have their work sides and private sides, but she did not give off that impression. With how she behaved, it was a miracle that some other woman got killed in her place.
"H-hey!" Kelly's face turned a slight shade of red. "S-say something."
Goddess above, I hope I'm wrong about this.
"Sorry," I said while walking up to Kelly. "I can't hold myself back," I told a simple lie, but it seems like Kelly bought it. She lowered her arms and turned her head to the side.
"Just make it quick." She said.
Not sure what she was expecting, and honestly, I feel even more guilty about this than before, but a job is a job. She asked me to protect her, and I plan to do just that. I walked up to her and gently unbuttoned her blouse just enough so that I could see the top of her chest. Kelly's head was turned with her eyes squeezed shut.
On her chest was a set of bandages that seemed to reach from the top of her chest towards the bottom of her breasts. They were stained with fresh blood. I unwrapped them, revealing a deep gash that stretched from the top of both her breasts. The wound was so deep that I could see parts of the bone of her rib cage. I poked the wound with my finger, brushing it against each edge. She showed no reaction.
I redid her bandages and walked back a little.
"Was that all?" She said, somewhat disappointed.
"Yeah, I'm satisfied with what I saw. Looking forward to our deal." I forced a smile. She turned with a slightly bashful one of her own.
I felt sick toying with her emotions like this, but there was nothing I could do about her brainwashing.
"Hey, why do you wear those bandages around your chest?"
"Well," she spoke, shifting her gaze. "I got fed up with the men at work staring at me, so I wanted to make them seem smaller. Do you think it's unappealing?"
"KELLY!" Before I had the chance to answer that death trap of a question, Margaret called out from the storage room.
We both turned to see Margaret poke her head out from the door, dripping a bit of water below her.
"Could you be a dear and head to the front? I have a delivery of goodies coming in a few minutes, and this job is gonna take me a while," Kelly asked with one eye closed, looking apologetic.
"Sure," Kelly made her way towards the front, and Margaret motioned for me to come into the back with her.
"That act could have fooled me," I said, closing the door behind me.
"So, did you get what you wanted to see? I get you're lonely, but undressing her in my store is a bit much, you know," Margaret said while making her way towards a small washbasin.
She was cleaning the old shirt I wore; next to her was the pair of pants, drying on a rack placed above a heated vent.
"Could you not make it seem criminal? I asked you to put her in something other than that trench coat because I needed to check something, so why did you give her something that made it somehow worse for me?"
"Who could say?" She said while pulling the shirt out of the basin and placing it onto the rack to dry. Margaret dried her hands and turned to face me. "So, what bothers you?"
"She'd been brainwashed," I said, while Margaret looked at me with an unconvinced expression. To her, it must have looked like I was simply feeling her up. "On her chest is a deep gash caused by the dagger related to the artifact you sold her. She showed no signs of it hurting, not even a small flinch. To make it worse, it seems like she doesn't even know it's there. It's just like that old case."
"Do you think that's why she bought that artifact?"
"That one was hard to say without asking her directly. But I would assume so, given the evidence." I then dug around in my clothes and pulled out the artifact I had retrieved from that man in the alley. Before I had the chance to say anything, Margaret walked over, then snatched the box from my hands and examined it.
"Muller said that the alley where you killed the guy had some kind of cult relation. But I'd never thought it had an artifact tied to it." She said. Every minor detail was examined by her sharp eyes before she handed me back the artifact with a scowl.
"Something's wrong?"
"It's been reused."
I felt those words go in one ear and out the other. An artifact being reused was unheard of. Once the power was drained from either the church or by its own limitations, it was rendered dull. No human had the power to re-power them as they were collected from outside the brass walls that protected us from the endless wasteland.
Did the cult finally learn of a way to do that?
That being the case, it would explain the brainwashing. They might be using Kelly to retrieve the artifact they once had. But there was a contradiction: the man I killed was comparing the photo in the wallet to a sheet of paper. So if the cult was using her, why were they also trying to kill her?
"Golden Steam," Margaret said softly with a straight expression on her face. "What will be the name for this job? I assume by that expression on your worn face that you never told her you are Golden Steam."
Worn was taking it too far, but she was right. I never felt the need to tell her who I was. Looking back, that was a good decision on my part, as now there was a chance that she would leave to hand off that artifact and any information collected. Luckily, that chance might be low, as she seemed to be truly fearful for her life. That would explain why she wouldn't turn to the church.
Wait, was I being used or baited?
"How about Axien?" I spoke, saying the first name that came to mind.
"Axien?" She cocked her head a little. "Were you not just at P's last time? Why start from the beginning?" Margaret yawned. "On second thought, I don't care. Just tell me what you plan to do."
"Gee, I love you too," I said dismissively. I then told her my theory of how I believed she was being used as well as being hunted by the cult.
"So she was told to go fetch a bone in a forest of wolves. Could be a misunderstanding; she was a reporter. But even I know the cult ranks are not that dumb." Margaret then let out another yawn, this time covering her mouth. "For now, just get the things you need for Rinne and get some rest. I'll gather information later."