Sao settled against a bank of wine-colored cushions by the window in the study. In his hand was a steaming cup. In the cup was hot water. Hands still gloved, holding his own, Rai did not look happy about their (only) choice of beverage. He sipped as if testing for poison and quickly lowered his cup.

“Carbonated?”

Art had been waiting for a comment. “I know you officers come to expect coffee or tea, but we don’t have that here. My father and I, we have heart palpitations. Caffeine is out of the question. Karik has something of an intolerance and Kris becomes hyper at the slightest… as for rest, well, health comes first, you know. You should learn to take care of yourselves.”

“Yeah,” Rai rasped and put the cup down.

He introduced himself briefly, under the title ‘Level 3 investigator’ to which the Flemings took little issue or notice. Sao was designated ‘assistant.’ This also garnered no attention.

“So what did you have to tell us about our son?” Art cut in as Rai was explaining their access rights.

“It’s actually about your brother, Chiro.” The Flemings’ faces fell, though it not so much to sadness as it was to distaste. Rai continued, “Though it could be relevant to figuring out what happened to Kuro too. Of course, without the full autopsy--”

“Oh, not this again.” Art drew back, armed to release another tide of disapproval. “Is it any wonder we haven’t wanted to speak to you people, always asking if you can cut up my brother--”

“There were some things found during the external assessment,” Rai said quickly. “Chiro’s body was looked over at the hospital and they found that his situation was surprisingly similar to that of your son. What we saw of your son from pictures. The blood found on Chiro wasn’t his - other than a bruise from the fall, he wasn’t injured. Which makes it hard to believe this was a simple attack.”

In response to this, Art Fleming sipped some carbonated water and slouched against into the velvet backrest.

“Oh, is that all?”

Rai’s glare could have sheared through concrete, but Art sat unscathed.

“We thought it from the start, didn’t we?” she said.

Sao watched Carion. He hoped to see a quick struggle to put on a front, throw together a story, but Carion nodded at his wife’s words and replied sadly, “We talked about it a little after the accident. Chiro wasn’t so good on his feet, his health was spotty too, runs in the family, unfortunately.” He laid a hand on Art’s shoulder. “It gets icy out there, all to likely that he slipped and fell. Or caught a chill and lay down and… well.”

“My father was rushed to hospital after a heart failure,” Art said. “He just got out. But nobody saw it coming. You never know when bad luck will strike.”

“Did Chiro go out for walks often?”

“No,” Art said.

“Sometimes I see him out when I’m heading out,” Carion said. “I think he likes looking at his mother’s old garden. I don’t think he liked going out in the snow, though. And of course, we don’t always watch him. He’s - he was - an adult.”

“And he was alone the night it happened.”

“We didn’t see him all night, his door was closed when we came home.” Art clicked her teeth. “He didn’t like us looking in on him while he was in his bedroom. Didn’t we tell you police already?”

“Wait - when you came home? You were out that day?” Rai was doing a decent job withstanding Art’s glare now.

“Yes. We were having another dinner with my father to celebrate his recovery. Me, Carion, the kids and my father -- Red. He’d been out of hospital a week. What does that have to do with anything? If you want to know when we got back, it was around 9. Late.”

“So I take it Chiro was never at that dinner,” Rai said. Sao noticed a strange flatness to his voice.

“He wasn’t. He wouldn’t - he didn’t want to come. We did invite him. He didn’t like going out to eat, he was a homebody,” Art said, suddenly protective.

She tilted forward, a fist clenched. She certainly was within assault distance, and Rai was the only prospective target. Sao watched the shift and said softly, “That’s understandable. That was the first week of snow, too. Cold.”

Art regarded him as if he were some strange smell, but leaned back into her seat. “Yes. And he offered to stay home to meet the courier. From the hospital.”

Rai frowned. “A courier was coming that day?”

“Came and went. They brought my father’s belongings from the hospital. Some clothes and his watch - well we forgot them the night we left because the doctors just rushed us out, and we weren’t just going to let the nurses claim them. But it took a week for the hospital to finally send it over. They said they’d mail it but the mailbox is down the hill by the front gate, we don’t like leaving things sitting there, so someone had to come, that’s why Chiro was here. He took the package in the late afternoon. It was in the kitchen when we got home.”

“So you didn’t meet this person. Is there any sign the courier came all the way to the house?”

“Chiro wouldn’t allow that,” she said.

“Could this courier have come onto the property?”

“Again, it’s not supposed to happen. Children, criminals, dim witted officers might sneak in, but the hospital has to be more professional than that.”

“We’ll check on this delivery,” Rai said.

“You think I’m lying?” Art hissed so suddenly that Rai fell back into his chair.

“Just the opposite, Mrs. Fleming,” Sao added quickly. “If the package was in the house then it’s confirmed. Every piece of information helps us fill in more of the timeline.”

“It means that this courier might have been the last person to see him alive.” Rai muttered. “Okay, say all that happened. Sometime between late afternoon to the morning after, he was alone and had an accident. What do you make of the blood?”

“Isn’t that your job to figure out?” Art snapped.

“We’ve been wondering if anyone had some reason to take revenge on us,” Carion offered, more for his wife than his visitors. “Some vicious prank. We get trespassers once in a while. Maybe they thought saw Chiro in the garden and… I’m not saying they killed him.. they coincidentally found him on the worst day of his life.” He shrugged, searching for someone to agree.

Sao smiled at him, knowing that Rai hated the idea of easy coincidences.

“Pretty elaborate prank,” Rai said. “Bringing a vat of blood all the way up this hill and-”

“You idiot, didn’t you say it was obvious we aren’t dealing with common street thugs?” Art interrupted shrilly. “The Flemings - my father - we’re one of the most influential families in the Central region. We have been for the longest time, though you don’t realize it because unlike those airheads on reality TV, we’ve managed to keep to ourselves, mostly. If we had any enemies, they’re people beyond your knowledge. International companies, syndicates, politicians. Things were awful at the hospital, we were at their mercy, and who knows what they said to make things worse. We thought things would settle down after my father got back, but every time we step out of the house, there’s irrational lunatics trying to tell us what to do, how to act, when to talk. And now that they know we’re vulnerable...”

“If your enemies really are that untouchable, you’d better lock up or start thinking about this a little harder, because there could be another ‘accident’ coming up,” Rai said. The small white fingernails of Art's right hand clawed at a pillowcase. With her other hand she dug into her husband’s arm. Carion was pointedly looking out the window.

Sao stood, his feet hitting the wood grain so abruptly that all heads snapped in his direction.

“Any doctors?” he said.

Art, Carion and Rai were staring at him now, waiting for the punchline. The combined gazes of Rai and Art nearly brought him to his knees.

“Private doctors,” Sao said. “The hospital has no record, so are there any associated with the family? No need for names just yet, confidential business I know, but-”

“I know what you’re doing. No, I don’t give you permission to look into any of our medical histories. How dare you, our children’s information is not open to the public-”

“- there was human blood found on Chiro’s body. And it wasn’t his.”

Despite talking over him line-for-line, Art heard him. She and Carion turned to stone. Sao heard television creak, sending a crackle up the wood foundation. Mimicking the fireplace that should have been set there. But there was no warmth.

“If all that blood came from somebody else,” Art said slowly, “Then you should be looking into whoever lost it, not bullying us over my brother.”

“The majority of it was animal blood,” Rai said. “But it happened that there were traces of human mixed in. And all we know of those humans, is that they were related to Chiro. But they did not match Chiro, or Red, who’s the only other member of your family with blood samples available - from the hospital.”

“Why, I don’t remember giving permission.” Art turned the Carion as if he’d done so behind her back. “Do you? Because if we didn’t and they dared-”

“What I should have asked is, are there any parties who may have access to your blood?” Sao said.

Art’s anger dissipated again, and the Flemings went silent. They looked very pale against the deep red loveseat. It was too late to fight for their privacy, Sao thought. Their own blood was spilled, over a dead family member. Their two guests weren’t worthy enemies anymore. Someone was out there, and if their enemies were as untouchable as was boasted, they had reason to be afraid. He hated to think how that fear would turn once Rai suggested these enemies had curses in their arsenal.

“We understand if you need some time to process this,” Sao said.

“But maybe you can tell us now, did Kuro have any marks or blood on him?” Rai could be awfully dense.

Art’s shadowed face tilted. “I’d rather not talk about my son with you.”

“And why is that?” Rai said.

“You people are all the same. You’re all against us without knowing a thing. I don’t want to start, you’ll just misunderstand everything."

“So whoever did this to your brother and son can just walk free?” Rai snorted. “These attacks are too complicated, and too personal considering that blood. If your family is so damn careful I would expect you to to be doing all you can to stop the next possible loss. But I’m not seeing that. You wouldn’t take calls from the hospital or police HQ, so you get me. If you really don’t want us to look into anything, if you really don’t care what happens to the kids you have left, then tell it to me straight and I’ll make sure nobody ever comes knocking again, and you can deal with whatever happens next--”

“There wasn’t,” Carion blurted, “there wasn’t any blood.”

Art blinked at his voice, but Sao saw now her face was without anger. She was tired. “Honey…”

“There’s nothing to hide,” Carion said clearly, though he was facing only the carpet. “Because there was nothing. Kuro had no blood on him, no injuries.”

“Yes…” Art’s tone had become misty. “We just have no idea what happened. One moment he was smiling at us, arguing over dinner as always and in just one night...“

Sao glanced at Rai, who finally caught one of his meaningful looks. Enough was enough. The pain in the room was becoming unbearable.

“So are there any medical providers who may have a grudge against your family?” Rai ask.

Sao could leapt out the window.

“Any estranged acquaintances with military backgrounds?”

“Maybe writing it down will help,” Sao offered. “Anyone you remember - and feel comfortable with us looking into, of course. We’ll give you a minute to discuss.” To Rai, he said, “Bathroom break.”

“You can use the restroom in the front,” Art said, getting up as Carion began searching for a pen and paper. She pointed Sao to small room by the front door, and he felt her eye him until the door was closed.

Sao flopped onto the ruffled seat cover. He did not really need the toilet, he just needed a break. From the strange, distorted atmosphere. It wrenched his heart to sit there listening - and that was odd. After years of police reports, he’d seen plenty of tragedies, but the Flemings had a specific, unnameable effect. In most cases he would conclude instantly that it was Rai’s callous treatment that put him in a contrarian mood, but there had been the archivist at HQ, the altercations at the hospital, all these enemies they laid claim to. They were difficult and tense - not his usual type. He wondered, then, if it was the house. After stepping through time to the old schoolhouse, he was a child again. Stern matrons and endless snow - he didn’t want to argue, he just wanted to curl up under one of the huge frost-lined windows and nap, insulated by warm wood and satin cushions.

Yes, it was the house.

Though the workmen’s bathroom he was now sitting in was not such a stunner. On the back of the bathroom door was a full-length mirror. The person he saw in the mirror was definitely not a child, and had a face that, while not awful, could never be taken back.

Sao ran the tap over his hand and smoothed the skin-colored covering on his face down. Snow called for a thicker coating of paint, perhaps Axelle had noticed the unusually smooth patches on his cheek and jaw when he visited the hospital. The Flemings didn’t seem as interested in his appearance.

As for Rai, he always noticed something. But after a confrontation and seeing the makeup off just once, he did not pry into that matter.

Presumably he’d speak up if anything were seriously wrong. Sao dried his hands and tried to take small comfort in that.

Art was no longer standing vigil when he opened the door. He heard her not-so-soft mutters from the study. No comebacks from Rai yet.

Small comfort.

To the side of the front door, there was a flicker in the sunlight. One of the curtains, long enough to pool on the ground, was swaying. Sao took a cautious step, his feet sinking into the carpet. “Hello?”

No response, but under the curtain he saw a sort of blob and a slip of brownish hair. A dog? Sao pulled the curtain aside quietly so as not to spook the animal, but instead saw a child, lying on his side in soft beige pajamas. Two burning yellow eyes tilted upward, but they only focused on him for a moment before shifting away, then elsewhere, unable to maintain a grip. The child’s hands were balled near his mouth, and Sao saw the glint of saliva. Clenched in the fingers was some sort of dirty plastic trinket, white pieces wound with string. The string was also wet with spit.

The child must have been eleven or twelve. One of the triplets. Sao assumed so from his size, but curled mutely in the sun, he resembled a large infant.

Sao took a mental survey of the family members and smiled. “You must be Karik.”

Recognizing his name, Karik Fleming lifted his head and gave a small coo, like a curious bird.

“I’m a policeman,” Sao said. It was an oversimplification, but Karik didn’t seem alarmed. “My friend and I are here to help your mother and father.”

No response.

“You have a sister, I hear.”

“Brother and grandfather.”

Sao was surprised, and could have kicked himself for assuming he’d get nothing but bird noises. Karik Fleming was almost a teenager. He spoke in a short burst but without struggle - a more adept speaker than he looked.

“Karik, how old are you?”

“Twelve.”

“That’s a good age. Almost grown up. Your brother and sister, they’re the same age as you?”

A blank stare, Sao’s smile softened. He had been wondering if the child had only been coached in specific lines. Not much, but something. That, or Karik was simply not playing this game. No child liked being interrogated.

“It’s nice, to have a brother and sister,” Sao rambled. “Your house is beautiful too. It’s very nice. Do you ever have friends over?”

“No.”

Again, a prompt response but Karik spoke absent of focus. Perhaps he’d had enough of Sao.

“It must be nice playing out in the garden,” Sao said. “I used to live in a house like this one. My friends and I… I suppose I only had one friend, we would go out in the snow and-”

“You stupid?”

Sao blinked and turned. Karik was not looking at him, but continued in a hollow tone, “Are you stupid? Do you want me to have a heart attack?”

“Excuse me?”

“You want me to die?” Karik continued. “You do not go outside, honey. If anyone comes near the house. You come to me or your uncle. If you see anybody. We’ll get rid of them. Now you stay inside and have some crackers.”

Echoes of Art. Finishing his recital, Karik sat up and stared at him impassively. Sao’s conscience took another hit. Though the words had been triggered, Karik clearly did not understand what he had said.

“I know,” Sao said. “It’s good to be careful.”

With that affirmation, Karik twittered.

“You’re sharp for a kid.” Sao kneeled to meet him levelly, and saw Karik was in some pricey looking silk pajamas. “Did you just wake up? I’ll let your mother and father know. You need breakfast.”

He was not graced with a response. After some thought and a total lack of recognition, he mimicked shoveling food in his mouth.

Karik held something up. It crinkled, sparkled in the sun. Though battered and a bit furred with pocket lint, it was one of the wrapped caramels from the hospital. He supposed Axelle handed them out to those in need, and a silent child at the foot of this (then) dying grandfather’s bed probably looked like he could use a treat.

“You’ve been saving that?” Sao asked. The Flemings got out of the hospital a week ago, and that the caramel was still in the wrapper was a genuine surprise.

Karik shrugged.

“It’s from the hospital.”

“Yes.”

“Did you get it when your grandfather was there? When he was in the hospital.”

“No…” Karik said without conviction, and made a dubious correction. “I went with mom. I’m saving it. Shh.”

“You have a lot of self control,” Sao said. “It's so hard to save food. I find it especially hard with sweets. Good job. But perhaps you would like something more for breakfast? Let’s get your mother.”

Karik put the treat back in his pocket and put the string in his mouth, slouching his arms to his lap to show just how unimpressed he was. He scratched his palm lazily. This was when Sao noticed one of two things.

“Karik, can I see your hand again?”

Sao reached out, thought about the skin and the spit and the condition on his own medical record, and opted instead to raise his hand fingers-up, as if awaiting a high five. As he’d hoped, Karik took enough interest in this and attempted to copy, raising his hand up palm forward.

Across the child’s palm was a long red scab, smearing at the end where he’d picked the skin.

“Karik, what happened to your hand?” Sao asked, then stopped. He now saw the necklace-like trinket, hanging from Karik’s mouth like a pacifier, was not just a string and plastic toy he thought it was. The ‘beads’ on the twine were tinged brown and yellow, some blackened, as if burnt. They were all different shapes, each one jagged or twisted in a different form. The longest piece Karik held in his mouth however, was gray and smooth, and pointed like a shark tooth.

Sao spent so long inspecting the item that he forgot about its owner, until Karik reared up and slapped his awaiting palm wetly, fulfilling the promised high five.

Sao yelped and teetered backward. He hit the carpet, landing on the woven creature Rai had called a devil and he had assumed was a fox.

Karik stood tall, as if he were in charge now. Nonplussed at this pathetic adult, but then his eyes began to widen and widen and then suddenly flipped upward and he squeaked. Sao became aware of the footsteps behind him, pattering at an rate to match his now thundering heart.

Art Fleming appeared in the doorway and stared down at him. Sao felt as if he’d joined the fated fox in the carpet hunting montage. “What,” Art hissed, and stopped for adjustment, with a deep breath.

“WHAT HAVE YOU DONE TO HIM?”

Sao fumbled to his feet. “Nothing, Mrs. Fleming. It’s all fine, I was just seeing-”

“FIRST, WE FIND YOU TRESPASSING! THEN YOU THREATEN MY IN MY OWN HOME AND NOW YOU’RE TRYING TO USE MY SON AGAINST ME, WHEN I’M NOT LOOKING YOU -- BEHIND MY BACK YOU--”

Rai and Carion rounded the corner and at that moment, Karik let out a massive bellow that sent the curtain flying around him and almost knocked Sao off his feet again. Every hinge, bolt and panel in the entryway was shuddering, reeling. Sao felt his insides rattling along with them. Karik’s incoherent howl drowned out his mother’s words, though her mouth continued to move with no sign of stopping.

Sao turned his head in a blinded frenzy. Someone had to help. Carion’s facade was earnest as always, though his eyes were glazed. This was something he was used to, but did not love.

Rai’s face was anything but calm. Sao was going to need help of a different kind once Rai got to him.

Karik’s seemingly endless wail wavered slightly, and for a second Sao hoped he was going to pause for breath. But he had only stopped due to a slight distraction from up the stairs. When he picked up on his mother’s voice again, he resumed, an otherworldly shriek that needed no air to keep going.

Sao turned to see what the distraction had been.

His eyes met a young girl was standing at the top of the staircase, in a pajama set that matched Karik’s perfectly. She was a near-identical mirror image in appearance, with their mother’s wild brown hair and their father’s scalding yellow eyes, though there was something more tuned. He wanted to say ‘reasonable.’ But then she took a deep breath, and another resemblance made itself clear. “WILL YOU ALL JUST SHUT UP!”

Art stopped first. Despite having just run her lungs for five minutes straight, her face was significantly less red than that of her husband, or Sao. She hurried to Karik’s side and began muttering, “It’s okay sweetie. This man won’t hurt you anymore. We’ll get rid of him. Don’t cry, baby.”

“Stop it, mom,” Kris called from her vantage point on the stairs. “He isn’t even crying. You’re just making things look bad. Again.”

“Kris, go to your room.”

“No! What are you doing here without me?” Kris shot Rai a dirty look that ground its way slowly to Sao. “You’re always telling me not to let strangers in, but I wake up and you let these weirdos--”

“Kris, be a good girl and go to your room!” Art’s voice grew shrill, Karik’s rising right behind her.

“I let them in by accident,” Carion said. “Kris, listen to your mother. We’ll talk about this later, all of us-”

“No! What if you get stabbed and die, you’re always saying that could happen. And you want me to just sit my room like nothing’s happening. Am I supposed to just trust these guys? I’ve never seen them before.” Narrowed yellow eyes fell on Rai again. He glared back. Then her eyes moved to Sao. He smiled weakly. Kris’s face went pink and she turned back toward her mother.

“They’re police,” Art said. She raised the last syllable to a pitch that made his jaw tense. “And they’re trying to let us know something about your poor uncle and brother until we were interrupted, do you know how important this is? They came all this way in the snow-”

“But why does he get to listen in, huh?” Krik jabbed a finger at Karik. “You don’t care that he’s listening. But what if he says something?”

“What would he say?” Rai asked, which was a mistake. Art came onto him like a lion.

“You mind your own business while I speak to my daughter! And don’t even think of speaking to my son!”

Rai appeared to be launching a verbal counterattack when Karik began shrieking again, hands balled by his side. Sao saw a dribble of blood on his fingers. The odd white necklace was cutting into his palm.

“God!” Kris shouted towards the rafters. “You’re all so embarrassing! You’re the worst! The worst!”

“You keep your mouth shut! You never know when to keep your mouth shut!” Art screamed.

Carion was stroking his wife’s arm ineffectually without speaking. He was within punching distance of Rai who looked ready to take advantage of that fact. Sao wondered if he should warn Carion, but it didn’t seem like he’d hear and the thought of crossing the threshold was-

“What’s all the noise first thing in the morning?”

Instant silence. The voice that had cut it all off was a human pitch, but somehow reverberating. Sao’s ears rang, though in all likelihood it was the yelling that had done it. Standing at the top of the grand staircase now, several feet up from Kris, was an elderly man in a brown robe. On his head was the Flemings’ signature wiry tangle and he sported an impressive beard, whorls of black and oak brown. Despite his flyaway hair and plain robe, he was immeasurably distinguished, and with this weight, considerably more menacing than the rest of the Flemings.

“Father! You should go back to bed,” Art said, but her commands were nowhere near as harsh as they had been before.

“Mr. Fleming, let me help you,” Carion said.

Red Fleming did not want help, as he stepped, then skipped, and leapt down the carpeted staircase. The air was punched from everybody in the room when he landed. Even Karik had stopped, and was smiling blindly.

“Who are you people?” Red asked, directing the question at Sao.

“Sorry to intrude this morning, Mr. Fleming. Important news from the police about the… recent incidents regarding your family.”

Red turned to his daughter. “Did you check for their identification?”

“I have it here,” Rai said.

“Fine, fine, as long as you did.” Red waved Rai off without looking at him, and turned back to Sao. “So what was this news? Have you found the culprit? Is there anything we can do to help? Anything at all? I was wondering if anyone was going to come back and have a look at the grounds...”

Sao wanted bow to the man for this offer alone, though he did wonder how Red Fleming was so vibrant just a week after emerging from a coma. “Headquarters were trying to get in touch for a while. The inspection of Chiro’s body revealed that he did not die in a way that caused the bloodstain at his scene. He was unharmed. The team did not see much of Kuro, but with the similarities, their deaths may be related.”

We wondered if he had spoken correctly. Rai was looking vaguely upset and envious, and opened his mouth to contribute, but Red spoke first. “What’s the theory then? What’s the cause? And the blood, if it wasn’t his then was it the killer?”

“They said it was animal blood, with some of ours. Our blood, father, someone threw our blood all over our own lawn, on Chiro when he died out there!” Art’s voice was shaking.

“Confirmed not to be Chiro’s, or yours though, Mr. Fleming. We came today specifically to see if there were any people you may suspect, who would also have access to your blood.” Sao hurried to add, “or anyone else you may suspect, for that matter.”

Red nodded. “Of course. The family doctors. They’ve been with us a while, but who knows what’s happening in their offices. Art, Carion, find those papers. They should be in the study. And Karik’s doctor?”

“We started the list. When we heard…” Carion shook his head. “We were asked to put down any others who may want to hurt us, or influence someone ot hurt us, but it’s difficult. I can’t imagine there are many serious--”

“Umbre,” Art muttered.

Red’s face hardened, his beard gathering in the disapproving wrinkles. “We haven’t heard from him in years.”

“That’s not true, I told you we saw him just a while back, remember?”

“I don’t, I don’t think he’d come over uninvited. Was I away from home?”

“No! I told you, we had to get him to leave, came to the hospital uninvited with this crazy idea that you were already-.”

All eyes turned to Sao. Rai was conveniently left free of scrutiny.

“What about the gang?” Kris said. “From the hospital.”

“Honey, the policemen said it wasn’t a stabbing. We would rather not get the attention of that sort of people.”

“Yeah, right. You don’t know anything.” Kris faced Sao, chin raised. “Gangs these days don’t just use knives and stuff. Sometimes they have wizards-”

“Kris!”

“And demons! They’re always talking about it online, they use demons, and the police don’t know how to catch those so--”

“What if it’s my fault?” Red mulled over himself. “The news are saying I shouldn’t have lived. When I came back something else tagged along, rode my shoulders out of hell... a demon, or a devil. No, the witch magazine said it was a curse for sure. I shouldn’t have come back, and something’s--”

“Mr. Fleming, please,” Carion begged, “those weren’t reputable papers.”

“Enough is enough,” Art said, “This is going nowhere, and these men aren’t helping. Carion, can you show these men out now--”

“Mom! Do you care about Kuro or not?” Krik shrieked. “You don’t really care about him! Or your own brother! You just want another reason to yell at us! But nothing you say helps, just look at what happened! They’re dead!”

There was a brief, awful moment where Karik began his mimicking whine again. Art did not retort. Red appeared to have denatured to his true age and was gazing at his wool carpet. Kris, realizing what she’d done, sniffled.

The fresh winter sun was still streaming in. Over Karik’s rising whine, Sao wracked his brain for a solution or an excuse, when Rai jumped in. “Mr. Fleming.”

“Who are you?” Red snapped.

“He’s my supervisor,” Sao said quietly.

“Is that so...” Red Flemming squinted as if he were being tricked. He scanned both of his visitors top to bottom, and shook his head. Sao always dressed better than Rai did. He did not tend to point it out, but he always managed to get on some work slacks and a pressed shirt under his coat. Rai was in threadbare olive. His coat was buttoned over his sweatshirt, hiding it, but it looked like the one he’d gotten from a UFO convention in ‘16 - one emblazoned with a cartoon alien.

“If you say so.” Red hung his head. Sao felt there were no winners here. Luckily, Rai did not care about this.

“Mr. Fleming, Miss Fleming,” he said, to Red and Kris, “interesting ideas you had. I think there’s something in the garden you’ll want to see.”

---

The little procession trudged through the fresh fallen snow, toward the garden. For Karik it was less trudging and more a slow drag, as his mother and father had to pull him by the arms in the right direction while he waded.

Art very loudly called out every garden feature as it came, “There’s the old rock garden and the old lantern tower, there’s the big old shed...” Karik ignored the sights. His white necklace, candy and smile were gone.

Sao wasn’t feeling so pleased with himself either. Sidling up behind Rai at the front of the pack he muttered, “Sorry.”

“For what?”

“Causing such a racket, almost getting us thrown out, and...”

“Getting mistaken for a head inspector, with your lowly intern in tow.”

Sao smiled weakly.

“Whatever. Funnier watching you getting grilled anyway. But now we’ve got this to handle. I didn’t get to ask before: did you notice anything by the gazebo? Did you smell anything weird? See anything weird on the ground? Kick into anything, hear anything?”

“I didn’t notice much before, other than the statues…”

“Okay.” Rai frowned.

The domed roof of the gazebo appeared before them, snowy peak crowned with some freshly fallen twigs.

Sao sighed a small cloud of vapor that drifted toward Rai’s bobbing head. “I’m sorry you had to cover for me. If you don’t see anything, just give me a minute or two, I’ll make an excuse and we can show ourselves out. I’ll think of something.”

Rai raised a brow at him. “Don’t bother. I didn’t bring us out here on a bluff.” He turned to the Flemings. “So, cardiac arrest. That’s currently what we have as the cause of death for both Kuro and Chiro.”

“Did you walk us all the way out just for a lecture? You know my father just got out of hospital.” Art shivered. “We shouldn’t be out here.”

Rai smirked as if invigorated by the cold. “But it’s suspicious, isnt it? Mr. Fleming, it sounds like you’ve heard some of the rumors from the news...”

“Is there a demon out here? Did I really bring something back with me?” Red moaned, and Sao got the sinking feeling that the Flemings had inherited their strong lungs from him.

“I don’t know about that, but I did see something unusual.” Rai homed in on Carion. “You say you saw Chiro out here sometimes. And you were out walking today. Chores, was it? Do you check on the yard often?”

“No, only when...” Carion took his wife’s hand. “When I need to clean up. Branches or dead animals. Or when we need something from the shed. But since the snow started, I haven’t...”

“Do you ever come out at night?”

Carion blinked, and Art’s hand tightened around his. “No, never. There are no lights out here. You see, my wife’s mother had an accident and she never finished construction...”

“That’s fine.” Rai stepped onto the flat plane of snow that covered the paving stones and knelt near the stairs. “We’ll just have to wonder who did this, then.”

Rai dug his glove into the snow on the stairs and took hold of something. He wrenched. There was dull crack.

Rai had broken off something that looked like a stone, but milk-white and rounded at one end. He held it up, handed it to Red Fleming. “Wax. From candles, maybe. Keep it, there’s more.”

He brushed another wave of snow off the platform below the stairs, revealing the red tiles and the thin line of melted wax hardened over them. The line arched to the edge of the paving, then split, split again near the middle. Along each line, there were a number of thinner ones, Sao saw, almost in the form of letters. “Looks like writing.”

“I can’t read it.” Rai shrugged. “Can we take some pictures? Mr-”

“Oh, God,” Red Fleming said to nobody in particular. Art dashed to his side, Carion in tow. Kris took Karik’s hand and pulled him back.

Rai continued his sweep. There was a full circle around the edge of the red-tiled platform now, with lines cutting inward, a star, and another star on top of it. Delicates symbols lining the edge.

Sao still could not read them. It was a bit frustrating, he had always prided himself in his interpreting skills when it came to obscure writing. It was, in fact, his work to transcribe old hand-written police notes. He hopped onto the gazebo’s short stairs to get a better look, and hopefully not interfere with Rai’s work.

He heard a small clatter above his head and looked up. Up the slender poles draped in dead ivy, into the painted iron lattice holding up the thatched roof - and stumbled back. He thought he saw a face, large dark eyes leering down. No, there were no eyes. He reached his arms up.

Art yowled like a cat and Carion called, “Careful!”

A yank and something dislodged itself from the straw, landing in on his shoulder with a hollow clack. He untangled the string twined around it and pulled the shape forward. He found himself face to face with a skull - not human, but that was little comfort. He couldn’t tell what it was. An elongated snout and emptied sockets gawked back in equal confusion.

“You found something after all,” Rai commented. He stood above the now fully-revealed ritual circle, a star, pentagram within a pentagram lined with wax runes, crusted and sealed to the paving. Exactly like he might see in a movie, or in the files of a cult.

Looking down the steps, under the dark snow roof, some creature’s elongated skull in hands, Sao felt like he’d walked onto some stage, all dressed up, and forgotten the script.

Rai was triumphant, but around him the Flemings were disintegrating. Carion couldn’t meet anyone’s eyes, Art’s face had lost its honed anger and was simply collapsing into agonized frustration, and her mouth ran without thought: “Don’t touch anything, don’t you dare, you’ll break it, you’re breaking it-- aaa--”

Kris had her small thin arm over her brother, who seemed prepared for a blow. Sao turned to the skull. No advice. He heard more rustling overhead, and a string of large, thin bones the length of kitchen knives toppled out of their hiding spot, clattering around his feet.

“It doesn’t look good, does it?” Sao said.

“YOU-” Art began, but then turned in terror to her father.

“It’s a CURSE!” Red howled, his voice far greater and more tremorous than any of his family before him. If there had been birds, they would have taken off from the trees, but it was winter, and all the group were simply left to soak in the anguished echoes.