Baker and Jones Pt. 02 Ch. 05

"This, this is private land!" He warns, his voice tired and hostile.

He'd never hit you with that poor tremble.

"Is that your campfire?" She asks, a pointing hand directing his gaze over the hill.

Annette is at her side again, cooly pleading, "Cordelia."

"You've got three seconds to go on back."

Cordelia ignores the threat, turning her focus to the area around her instead. His home seems to match him well - falling into disrepair with age. It sags into the earth, the thatched roof muddied and sprouting weeds, the door creaking with the breeze. It's not likely that he's regularly making trips up the large, strange hill to the west.

"Not your fire, then," Cordelia deduces, pacing to the side as the barrel of the rifle laggingly trails her. "Neighbor's fire?" The man makes a sour expression, his face folding into a deep scowl. "Not a fan of them?"

He makes a growling sound. "I said to-,"

"I'd like to take a closer look at it," she tells him, now turning on her heels to pace back the other direction. She tucks her hands behind her back unassumingly. "I'm a detective, and it may be relevant to a case I am working on."

He frowns. "Detective?"

The barrel of the gun dips slightly. "A quick look," she promises, "then we'll be off your property and out of the way."

Annette decides to add something more to offer. "We can pay you for the privilege."

The man accepts. Annette hands him a stash of folded bills into his palm, stepping back carefully and rolling her eyes to Cordelia when he can't see. Cordelia notices his glare flick up to Annette's short hair, but he wisely says nothing.

Debts settled, Cordelia sets off, only to have her progress halted by the old man cracking, "Beware the glas." He points his weary rifle towards the hill. "It doesn't like foreigners," he chuckles to himself.

Cordelia knits her brows together. "Temperamental, for a hilltop," she replies dismissively.

Annette jogs up a few steps to match Cordelia's departing pace, making an amused noise at their adventure. She makes a face at the detective, a sternly raised eyebrow and smirking grin, lightly mocking her for what Cordelia assumes is a moment where others would think her to be odd.

Have I done something strange?

And when she looks back at the cottage, Cordelia's heart freezes in her chest. The old man's rifle bares down at the two of them - no, not the two of them, at Annette. His hands no longer shake, his form no longer weary. He lowers his head to it, taking aim.

Without a word of warning, Cordelia seizes Annette's arm and yanks it, throwing Annette behind her and putting her own body between the two of them. She stands tall, glaring down at the man and preparing to feel his bullet break her skin.

It never comes.

Instead, the old man cackles wildly, blowing a kiss at Annette and storing his weapon against the side of the house, where it rests unthreateningly.

Cordelia keeps her gaze locked upon him, breath coming in heavy aches. Her heartbeat pounds in her temples, reminding her of the constant pain she'd had in them since the morning. She remains frozen, her mind spinning at a hundred miles an hour.

He would have killed her.

He could have killed her.

Annette could have died.

Annette.

Dead.

Because of you.

Gone.

You monster.

She's only here because you brought her.

You can't protect her.

You know what's after her.

You know she cannot survive it.

You cannot protect Annette.

"Cordelia."

She's only in danger because of you.

She deserves to know why she's in danger.

No - knowledge of it will only frighten her.

You have to protect her.

"Cordelia!" Annette's voice rings in her head, her hands waving in front of the detective's face. She feels as though the solidity of the world underneath her is now in question, as though the very ground could give out from under her at any moment.

Annette's hands grab hold of either arm, squeezing Cordelia with as much effort as she can summon. Cordelia shuts her eyes tightly, stepping backwards and almost falling.

Is it better or worse to know that it is only Annette who is at risk?

You'll survive.

You'll survive, and Annette won't.

You'll have to live in a world without Annette.

You'll live in a world without Annette, and you will have caused it.

Cordelia shakes her head, panting and pushing away from her companion. She forces her eyes open, the overcast sky blinding her with its dim light. Everything, for a moment, appears blurry and incomprehensible. She pushes it all away, marching towards the hill before her instead. The smoke still trickles out just beyond it.

You have to protect Annette.

She doesn't deserve to die.

Protect her.

You need to be smart enough to solve this.

There must be a way to stop it.

Shadow Woman waits for Cordelia at the crest of the hill, and she doesn't remember registering the dark presence. She doesn't remember deciding to head directly towards her, never mind the steep incline. She hardly notices herself chipperly tell Annette, "Let's go this way."

"Cordelia," Annette grabs her by the wrist, arresting her forward charge. She tries to shake it away, but her companion's grip is stronger. "Something's wrong. Will you please tell me what is going on?"

"I'm quite alright," she mutters back. Then, seeing the displeased glower on Annette's face, she more chipperly clicks the heels of her boots together and declares, "On the case!"

Annette is unamused. She squeezes Cordelia's wrist tighter, holding her in place at the base of the strange, pock-marked hill.

"Annette?"

"Talk," she demands.

"Must we?"

"Should you wish to share my bed tonight, yes."

"There's nothing to-," a deeper scowl from the redhead silences her. Cordelia lifts her head towards Shadow Woman, who has momentarily ceased to be. In her breast pocket, she feels a heavy weight.

You monster.

"Very well," Cordelia sighs, unsure of how to formulate any of her thoughts into something approaching speech. She opens and closes her mouth a few times, nothing forming.

"You seem distracted lately," Annette supplies, stringing together her observations, "burdened by something. And the whole time we've been in Kereland you've been distant with me."

Cordelia swallows.

You don't deserve her.

A low, heavy breath.

Try to.

"I... please understand that I love you most dearly," Cordelia stammers, finally pulling her wrist free of Annette's grasp. She tucks both of her hands into her pocket. "I never wish you to come to harm on account of me. Yet, I... erm, find myself quite constantly unsure of the proper way to go about loving a person, particularly one of your excellence." A nervous breath. "Annette, you..."

She's behind Annette.

The Shadow Woman hides in the middle distance behind Annette, looming over her shoulders, ethereal as ever. Unthreatening, for now, but with a sense of urgency.

Don't tell her. Protect her.

Shadow Woman's hand is raised, pointing back down the hill. Cordelia forces herself to ignore her - to ignore the churning, violent fear inside of her chest.

"Christ, I'm no good at this."

Annette looks at her softly. "I don't need you to be good at it. I simply need you to do it."

Cordelia nods, staring down at the ground. "There's... I've received..."

Shadow Woman points once more, just as insistent.

"I've placed you into danger, Annette."

"The old man was playing a sick joke," Annette shakes her head, unafraid. "And I don't come along with you for the safety."

"Not here," Cordelia murmurs, palm raising to massage the tension from her continual headache. Shadow Woman is closer now, pointing all the same. An impatient noise leaves Cordelia. "Fine," she gives in, glaring down the hill.

"Fine?"

Smoke is rising from the cottage chimney.

"The danger isn't the-," she scratches the back of her head. "It's not something I..."

One puff. Then two puffs.

Rhythmic.

"More smoke?" Cordelia mutters under her breath.

"It's a brisk morning," Annette says dismissively, desperately trying to keep the conversation on track. "Might we continue our-,"

One puff. Two puffs.

Pause.

One puff. Two puffs.

A signal.

"Christ!" Cordelia exclaims suddenly, the realization dawning on her. "We need to move!" She swipes up Annette's hand and pulls her along, racing up the hill towards the initial plume over its crest.

She pants heavily as they dash up the steep incline, her body quickly growing warm and uncomfortable from the effort. Her feet have to dodge pitholes and brambles - every foot of the hill is covered in obstacles.

Pine branch, drying out from a lack of-

"Why are we running?" Annette demands.

"He's signaled them!" Cordelia explains, releasing Annette's hand to point at the cottage far behind them. "If we don't move quickly they'll break away!"

"Signaled who?"

...Pine branch?

Cordelia races across the grassy incline without explanation - Annette will surely piece it all together in just a few moments. And, on the possibility that she does not, Cordelia will explain it once the necessity of the present has departed. For now, she sprints towards the crest of the glas, ignoring the burning in her thighs and calves, pushing past the increased stress this adds on her headache. All of those things can be tended to later.

She'd had a scattered array of predictions of what would lay on the far side of the hill, none of which bear any fruit as she stumbles over it. Instead of, say, a small campfire with dancing witches cavorting about, there lay a small, ruined village.

Moss and ivy overtake the rugged stone structures in the glen. Thatched roofs collapse in on themselves, sprouting the plants of decay. What were once small dirt streets between the homes now exist only as a pathway for weeds. Perhaps fifty or sixty people once lived here, but now, it's empty.

Empty, apart from the smoke rising from a single chimney.

"Do you intend on filling me in on any-,"

Cordelia's already working her way down the hill, hopping and skipping over the rugged terrain. An abandoned village is far more exciting as a prospect than anything else she might've predicted.

A sound like branches snapping underfoot surprises Cordelia, and suddenly she finds herself tumbling down to the ground. A hole emerges in the rough ground to swallow her up, and she finds her hands clawing at the grass, desperately trying to pull herself out as it falls deeper and deeper.

She nearly succeeds in heaving herself out, when the edge gives way completely, dropping her back into its depths, where her back lands against an entirely unexpected sensation.

Bark?

Annette arrives above her, peeking down from the now six or seven feet of distance between them. "Are you hurt?" Her voice flicks nervously.

Cordelia waves her concern away. "Leave me! Go find the source of the smoke!" She implores, waving her arms wildly, hoping Annette will grasp the necessity of the task.

"I'm not going to-,"

"Annette."

Annette grumbles, throwing her hands over her head with frustrated resignation. She pulls at her hair for a moment, then sighs and nods. She rises to her feet once more, preparing to march off, when Cordelia hears the crackling, sinking sound once more. Annette's boot collapses through the ground, followed by her leg, and then the whole precipice gives way.

She tumbles down as well, knocking into Cordelia.

A long pause holds them as they await any further structural failures of the hilltop. Nothing, so far.

"Miss Jones?"

"Yes, Miss Baker?"

Annette swallows dryly. "I'll not be able to investigate the fire for you."

Cordelia nods, shifting so that Annette's elbow is no longer entrapping her lungs. "Forgiven," she sighs, "given the circumstances. You're not hurt?"

Annette struggles to return to her feet, laying against Cordelia's back, but shakes her head, muttering a word of her status. She pushes up, grabbing hold of what ought to be the dirt and mud comprising the walls of their earthly tomb - only to struggle to make any headway amidst the tree branches holding them.

Tree branches.

"Why on Earth is there a branch in my ass?" Annette gripes.

"Under the Earth, as it were," the detective muses thoughtfully. Her fingers wrap around the nearest one - Kerish pine, it seems - and she slowly reacquaints herself and Annette into an upright position. Her eyes flick around, marveling at the unexpected position they've now found themselves in.

Damn the smoke, there's a forest under the glas.

Annette turns around, and Cordelia finds herself just as captivated by the ever-lovely shimmer in her round eyes. Chestnut irises, with a dark ring around their edges, so soft and precise. A delicate glow around the pupils, nearly hazel.

Cordelia, despite the circumstances, raises a hand to Annette's cheek.

She's yours. You get to love her, a wondrous part of herself marvels. Protect her.

Don't be possessive, another scolds.

Cordelia withdraws her hand quickly.

Don't be distant.

She leaves her palm hovering in the air, halfways between warm affection and cool detachment.

Annette raises her own hand to gently procure it, bringing the back of Cordelia's palm to rest against her smooth cheek. The chestnut glow in her eyes looks sweetly concerned. "My dear, will you please tell me what's gotten into you? Everytime your eyes meet mine it's like they're haunted by something."

Haunted.

Cordelia's gaze flicks upwards to the light above them. Shadow Woman hovers just above them, unassailing, undisturbed, but watchful. She casts no shadow, despite the angle, and does not disturb the light from reaching them. Incorporeal.

You are being haunted.

Cordelia sucks in a heavy breath, unwilling to accept such a premise. There's some other explanation to be seized upon, surely. It would be preposterous to let her mind convince her of something of the sort.

Haunted, or you're losing your sanity.

She shudders.

With a guilty pang in her chest, and resolving not to worry Annette with this sort of nonsense, Cordelia shuts it away past a stoic wall. She releases a long exhale. "Might I talk when ready, and not a moment before?"

Annette tenses, purses her lips. "But you will tell me."

A pause. "Yes."

And now you've lied to her, and deceived her, and placed her in danger-

Cordelia resolves not to make it a lie. She will tell Annette, when necessary. There's no sense in panicking her while so little is, at present, understandable. She will share the Letter in due time. She will explain... whatever the Shadow Woman is.

"Okay," Annette places a tender kiss on her forehead. She takes a breath to reset. "Now, shall we find our way out?"

Annette gazes up out of the hole, up towards the light, once more showing no awareness of the Shadow Woman. Cordelia, on the other hand, kicks her boots through some of the branches underfoot, clearing away the gray and drying fronds.

"Down, I believe."

Annette raises an eyebrow. "Down?"

Cordelia nods. "We are, if I'm not mistaken, about thirty feet above the forest floor."

The Twenty-Third Reply - Eight Years Prior

Dear Sonia, my fondest and farthest friend,

I must say, I wholeheartedly endorse your decision to be childless - it is one I have made for myself with some conviction. Our reasons might be rather different, your desire not to sire any until your husband demonstrates enough stability in his person to deserve an heir, compared to my simple acknowledgement that I could hardly imagine caring for another being, particularly one so vulnerable and prone to self-destruction; but I support both nonetheless.

I have an intellectual admiration for children, despite their obvious and frustrating shortcomings. I do not enjoy how sticky every surface they come into contact with becomes, nor do I appreciate the near-constant state of emotional distress. However, I greatly admire the aptly-named sense of childlike wonder; that eclectic ability to perceive the world beyond its ordinary nature, beyond those measures which we, as adults, come to take for granted.

I recall distinctly the occasion where I, as a young girl, believed with my whole heart that I had stumbled across the egg of a Dragon - one of those Hesstil beasts of legend. I located, upon the banks of the Fennes river, a stone so spherical it must have been made by design, or the product of something magical, hardly able to fit into my small palms. I brought it home to show off, first to the collar of my home, Susan, who greatly indulged my sense of wonder. She told me the story of the great Andlash dragon, Luklleiwiellaten, who legend insists was a great tyrant of the skies and mountains before some old hero slew him. Susan suggested my stone, the egg, might even house his great grandchild.

My mother quickly doused such imagination. She brought with her a large mallet, set the stone upon a large boulder, and split it asunder. I believe I must've cried at this sight, my young mind convinced she'd just slain my newfound aerial friend. Not so, she displayed to me that it was solid, through and through, a gorgeous and marbled stone of which I'd rarely seen the likes of before. She told me that one does not need to believe in mythology to still find something marvelous - that the natural, ordinary world is fascinating enough. I resented the lesson at the time; but now, I believe I find it rather comforting. Everything has its proper place, everything is explainable, if you can deduce and complete the complicated web of interactions between natural phenomena. A Detective, for the natural world. Or, as the more learned would simply call it - a scientist.

A self-professed scholar and imagined naturalist,

Cordelia Jones