Greykin Mountain

| 29 | Arrangements

⥐ ⋞ ☽ ⋟ ⥐

Eric's office didn't live up to the excitement its locks and prohibited entry had ensued. Old, tattered books rested on the towering shelves; peeling paintings of people in old-fashioned clothing clung to the black, wood-panelled walls. And of course, each corner possessed a display cabinet full of strange, shiny weapons Jackson's stepfather collected.

          Boring.

          Jackson wasn't naïve, though. Maybe something interesting was hidden inside one of the drawers in Eric's desk.

          He crept over there, moved behind the antique, oak desk and sat in Eric's leather chair. Unsure of how long he had, he immediately pulled open the first drawer.

          Pens, feathers, ink bottles, and stamps.

          Lame.

          He pulled open the next.

          Plain paper, envelopes, stamps, and tools to make wax seals.

          Even lamer.

          The third drawer didn't budge, though. Jackson frowned and pulled a little harder, but the small keyhole made it evident it was locked. Whatever was inside had to be worth it. So, he reached across the desk for a paperclip.

          As he reached, a flicker of gold snatched his attention. He looked down at the papers, locating the source of the shimmer, which sat on the bottom right of a beige piece of paper as a gold-foil sigil, which looked like a swirled A entwined with a Z. He'd never seen it before, but its shimmer and the fact it was on a piece of the thick, beige card Eric was so protective of made it evident it was important.

          And just as any detective-in-training would do, he read it.

          Dear Mr Eric Kingsly,

          I am writing to you on behalf of your benefactors regarding your recent information request.

          The Nosferatu do not investigate the deaths of every Caeleste unless there is cause for concern. Our systems show that in this case, there is no such concern.

          However, all HG-caused deaths are recorded. You will find any and all information in the Citadel's archive, public record division. Please contact them on 1-000-000-0027, or alternatively, you may write to them at the address provided on the back of this letter.

          My deepest apologies that I could not be of any more assistance. I hope our colleagues can help you.

          Sincerely,

          Norman Grant, Nosferatu Liaison Officer.

          Jackson's curious eyes widened with each sentence. Deaths, Caeleste, HG, Nosferatu—what was Eric up to? Whose death was he looking into?

          He pushed the paper aside, revealing several other beige, gold sigil-adorned letters, and as he skim-read them, he saw that they all repeated Caeleste, Nosferatu, and HG. They seemed to be about the death of one person or another, too. Jackson knew his stepfather wasn't a good man—he knew his work involved hurting people, but he never really understood why.