“Yes. The card says that too. I’m glad the Elysium Order doesn’t stifle the budget for reading lessons.”
The white-robed nun didn’t appear to be listening. Her eyes flared white and she started glancing around.
Devon hopped back, worried she might actually attack.
“Where’s your demon,” she growled. It wasn’t a question. Lightning crackled at her fingertips.
“What?” Devon quickly let out a snorting laugh. “Oh no, you have me confused with a diabolist. It’s an easy mistake to make.” He laughed again, slapping his knee. “They both start with ‘d’ and end in ‘ist.’ I see the Elysium Order’s reading budget isn’t as high as I thought.”
“I should strike you down where you stand.”
“I am an officially sanctioned demonologist. Striking me down would be a crime and your order,” he said as she shook his finger at her, “is in hot enough water as it is, young lady.”
The light in her eyes seethed before being extinguished to a pair of light brown eyes. “I don’t care what the card says. I can’t let you in.” She tossed the paper over her shoulder without a second glance.
Devon followed it as it fluttered to the ground. He pressed his fake glasses up the bridge of his nose. “Ahhh,” he added as much nasally tone to his voice as he dared without sounding fake, “I’m afraid that isn’t your decision to make. I was hired as an independent contractor by the administrators of Brakket city to investigate any possible demonic activity. Given that you are squatting in this building rather than owning it properly, you have absolutely no authority.”
From his pocket, Devon pulled a bundle of folded up papers. He thrust the very realistic looking documents in front of the nun’s face. Something told him they would be wasted on the illiterate girl.
“As you can see,” he laughed with a snort, trying not to groan at himself as he did so, “anyone who interferes with my duties will be, ahha,” he pressed his glasses up his nose one more time, “jailed.”
The gears almost audibly ticked away inside her head. Her eyes scanned over the papers. What was visible of her forehead crinkled away as she got further down. She shoved the papers back into Devon’s chest.
He stumbled backwards as if she’d punched him.
“I’ll need to contact my superiors.” She started to pull out a cellphone.
“You do that,” Devon said as he adjusted his glasses once again; he was adjusting them less for show and more because they irritated him. “I’ll get started. I ah, hope the trail hasn’t run cold because of your delay.”
He shuffled past her. Despite her moving to block the way, Devon slunk around her arm. He hopped up to the front door and, inside and out of the nun’s sight, stepped straight from the bottom of the stairs to the top.
The master bedroom looked like a drunk tornado spent the night. Not a single piece of furniture looked intact. Large stains of dried blood pooled near the door, the center of the room, and the bathroom entrance. Smaller trails connected the three points.
Between them all, and several other spots in the room, were ashen hoof prints. They had burned into the hardwood flooring.
Devon knelt down and brushed some of the ash onto his finger. He brought it up to his nose and took a brief sniff. Using all the air in his lungs, Devon quickly expelled the foul scent from his nostrils.
He walked back out of the room to the staircase.
No tracks led up. Just a few paces away from the doorway, two hoof marks appeared side by side. The entire surrounding area had been scorched around ankle height. The walls and floorboards looked like someone had done a poor job spray painting them black.
The footprints had a huge distance between them. Either the demon took large lunges for steps or he had legs up to Devon’s chest. The ceiling wasn’t that high. He’d be hunched over the entire time.
Not very intimidating.
Devon stalked back to the bathroom.
Slumped against the door seemed to be the end of whatever guarded the room. The body had been removed. The telltale signs of a body hitting the door and sliding down were left behind.
The bathroom wasn’t large. A closet and a small bathtub sat inside one wall, a counter with a single sink and a toilet against the other wall. There was a small aisle between.
The footsteps did something odd. They stopped. Two others, facing the opposite direction, were burned into the floor against the wall opposite of the door.
Clothes lay crumpled against the counter and water filled the tub.
