Say a Prayer Ch. 05

And for what seemed to be hours, he continued. It was as if he was a high priest lecturing a group of children. The subjects changed from children, to abortions, to what a man should be like in order for him to grant any sort of respect, and even to how much finery a woman should wear on certain occasions. Delma couldn't say that she disagreed with him, for the most part. What bothered her was how unnecessary his lecturing was. She hadn't asked for advice, barely even spoke, but this man just went on and on as if she was completely uneducated in life and needed several short lessons.

But ... at least the man seemed to have compatible outlooks on life. This was fine.

And ... well ... once she mentally drowned out the most irritating sections of his speech, she was able to concentrate on his physical appearance. He truly was an invigorating creature to behold. His nose often wrinkled in a playful way. His lips, as frightening as they could be, had a sensual promise in them. His fingers were deliberate and commanding as they moved around.

What would a sweet touch from him be like?

Delma nearly choked on her tea. Mr. Roiters reached over to pat her back. "Are you alright?" His hand was heavy. Each clap of his palm against her body had her bounce in her seat. When her throat was calm again, she weakly squeaked out, "I'm fine, thank you."

But ... his hand was lingering, sending heat through her clothing.

Delma shifted her body a little, hoping he'd understand the hint and remove his hand. He didn't right away. He seemed to intentionally caress her a few seconds more, and then he dragged his hand away.

"You should be careful. You could burn your throat." He frowned in a way that was almost angry.

"Yes, Sir." Delma didn't know what else to say.

***

There were links, thin but useful links!

Between the deaths of Marchioness Lillitu Masen and Rotemna Dufan the links remained. Esther was very glad to have them. After interviewing several people that lived and worked in the areas the bodies were discovered in, Esther learned of an odd man. He was only odd because of a certain action he took, and nothing else seemed strange about him.

For the first death, a flower selling girl told Esther, "Now that you ask, I think I did see someone acting off. I saw a tall man walking out of an alley. I couldn't see his face. He had something on his head, but it was too dark to tell much about it. He put his hands on his head and pulled that thing off."

"What did his face look like?" Esther asked.

"I can't rightly tell you, Miss. It was too dark. There were too many shadows, but I think he was probably not like you." The flower seller blushed and lowered her head. "What I mean is, I don't think he was from where you're probably from. I think his skin was lighter than yours, but I don't know, really. It was a good while ago, and I wasn't trying to look hard."

For the second death, a maid told Esther, "The Master's littlest one threw his food at a window, and I had to wipe it clean. I saw a man coming from an alley, and I can't say what he looked like, not to every detail, but I know he seemed tall, and there was something on his head, like a hood or something. He took that off, but it was so dark, and he was so far off. I don't know what his face is like, except that maybe it was average? I mean, he was probably not from one of the desert countries, or the tropical countries."

Esther was so happy to have these pieces of information. A mask wearing man who made a point of removing his mask in the dark of the night, how delightfully peculiar.

There was also the simple fact that both of the deaths were, according to Esther's logic, murders that were disguised as suicides. Deception, that was certainly at play. A masked person overflows with deception. This person could be involved, certainly. It was also possible that more people were involved, especially when one considers all possible motives for the murders, and none of them seemed evident.

In fact ... the motives were still out of Esther's reach.

As Esther looked over her papers, rereading the interviews, she wondered about something.

Assuming the masked man was guilty of something, why would he wait until he was out of a dark alley to remove his mask, and why would he do it at least twice?

Certainly, he would understand that someone would see him.

Certainly ...

Did he purposely remove his masks each time ... did he want to be seen? If so, who did he want to see him? Someone involved with the murders? Why, though? There were more reasonable and subtle ways to let someone know you committed a murder ...

Esther dropped her papers as she thought about the concept of mercenary assassination. Someone could have been paid money to kill these two women. The reasons why could really be anything.

But, that still didn't explain why the masked man would unmask himself so publicly! If anything, he'd be even more discreet if he was an assassin. It was likely that he wasn't even an independent agent. He could be a part of a larger group of assassins. Goodness, he might not even like his job. He might even hate the group he worked for.

Or maybe this man was just stupid.

***

The morning was saturated in rain. Even in the prayer room, Delma heard the wind and water beat against the temple. A black cloak of wool was around her shoulders even though she was indoors. She wanted to feel covered, protected, even loved.

A fairly wealthy man, a highly desired man, a man of great strength and skill, he was trying to court her, and all she could think of was Mr. Kuno. It was so miserable, terribly miserable. Delma knew she should have been dreamy, but she was hurting instead.

She made a small, whiny sniff.

Then the door behind her opened.

She twisted her torso around to look up at the guest.

Clothed in grays and browns, it was a man with fabric wrapped around his head and face. A black leather glove moved to close and lock the door. Then both gloves folded into each other as the hands inside them came together at the man's front.

"Good morning, Angel."

She scrambled around and up, practically stepping on her own skirt. "Where have you been?! Why haven't you come to me?!" She tripped over nothing, and her body fell forward, but Mr. Kuno dutifully caught her, his fingertips sinking into her arms. Pleased to be touched by him, Delma put her palms against his chest and gazed up at the cold mask, imagining that it wasn't really cold at all. "I've missed you! I've yearned for you!"

"Have you? Truly?" His gloves slid from her arms to her back. Delma thought they belonged there. She smiled as he spoke again. "You're a gentle little thing. Have you been eating well?"

For a moment, Delma put her weight on the balls of her feet, pushing her body up, leading her bare face closer to his hidden one. "I've eaten well. My only complaint is that I haven't seen you."

She heard his sigh. The covered head lowered a bit. Then she listened to his oddly sad voice. "Angel, I came to congratulate you. I've heard you're being courted by the famous Maino Roiters. He'd make a fine husband."

A thick coldness spread out in her body. Her lips imitated a fish as she tried to gather up a response. Then, she whimpered as Mr. Kuno stepped away from her, removing his hands. He said, "I'm so happy, unbelievably happy, Angel."

Her voice came. It scraped against her throat, but it came. "You're supposed to tell me to cut him away! You're supposed to tell me you're the only man for me! You're supposed to be so angry that you'd shove me into a wall and make love to me!" That last statement came out in a high pitched rush.

He gave her a bow, and then he said, "This an excellent fate for a Child of Hope. So please, for your own sake, hold this fighter close and love him."

One of her feet stomped forward. Her fingers clawed at her skirt. "Kuno!"

Very swiftly, he turned around and unlocked the door.

"Kuno! Wait!" She reached out to him. Her fingertips grazed his cloak as he left the prayer room. She followed as soon as she was able to, rushing out and reaching for him again. "Kuno!"

He didn't respond, didn't even turn to look back at her. His back was straight. There was no stumbling. He was fast, not giving her another opportunity to touch him. He left the hallway. Then his shoes made mild little thuds against the long rug in the center of the ceremony hall.

"Kuno! Kuno! Where are you going? Please! Tell me where you live! Tell me what to do! I can't take this!" Uncaring of the concerned expressions everyone else in the temple aimed at her, uncaring of the gossip that might bloom from this, Delma begged and pleaded for him to do anything, anything at all to comfort her.

She stopped at the temple's exit, her fingers pressing into the door frame. She watched Mr. Kuno walk onto the street and disappear among the crowds, knowing that she couldn't stop him, knowing that she couldn't do anything else to bring him back.

Her face grew pink. Her sinuses swelled. Wanting safety and privacy, Delma darted towards where she believed the highest ranking priest was. She found him, and then she told him she needed to go home. It was a personal emergency.

Once she was home, she dropped onto her bed and wept so much that when she was finally done with it she felt dry and shriveled.

***