“Let’s hurry,” Melanie said.
“No,” Solomon replied. “We need to see what this is. As distasteful as it may be, we can’t go on not knowing what we’re leaving behind us.”
“Let’s get it over with, then,” Thaddeus said.
The stench grew as they walked down the hallway. Halfway down, on the left side, one of the doors was open. Solomon strode forward, hand on the hilt of his sword and looked inside. He grimaced and stepped away.
“What is it?” Thaddeus asked.
“Someone in a black robe, dead on a thin cot.” Solomon’s voice was flat.
Thaddeus forced himself forward, fighting down the urge to retch. It was exactly as Solomon described. A young man, dressed in the black robes of House Subtle Hemlock, was sprawled on his cot, his throat gaping wide open. Dried blood had pooled beneath him.
“I wonder what he did?” he said.
“Malachi?” Solomon asked.
Thaddeus shrugged. “I would assume so. Although for a punishment like that, it must have been something pretty bad.”
“Hey.” Melanie’s voice came from a few doors back. “There’s more.”
She had opened a door and now stood back from the opening, her eyes wide.
Inside were two more bodies, a man and woman, interrupted in an intimate moment. A hole was bored through his back, straight through her, and judging by the dried pool of blood on the floor below, through the cot beneath them as well.
It was the same in every room. Bodies in black robes, men and women, young and old, all killed in some gruesome fashion.
Thaddeus recognized a few of the faces.
“What was this place?” Solomon asked.
“Where we lived,” Thaddeus answered. “Unless you were one of Malachi’s favorites, you had a room here. There’s another section, with even smaller chambers that you have to live in when you first come here. For all his talking about the unfairness of the Greenweald, Malachi was doing the same thing.”
“These are all members of your House?”
Melanie nodded, her face pale.
“Then whatever happened here could have killed Malachi, also,” Solomon said.
“Or he did it,” Thaddeus replied. “Maybe he finally snapped.”
He could see it happening. The man was on the brink of madness and paranoia the entire time that Thaddeus had been in Subtle Hemlock. Maybe he finally broke all the way.
A cold dread settled over him as he thought about the meaning of all this, and his throat went dry.
“Mel,” he said. “If Malachi killed all of them, and no one could stop him, how are we…?”
“He took them by surprise,” she answered. “He must have. Not even Malachi is that strong.”
“I hope you’re right,” Thaddeus said.
“All right,” Solomon said. “We’re not going to get the answers standing here. Let’s get out of this stench and do what we came for.”
“You’re awful callous about this,” Melanie said, heading for the stairs.
Solomon shrugged. “I’ve seen death a lot. Too much. Besides, this is the House that caused all the problems. That killed Florian and Jediah. Do you really expect much sympathy from me?”
It was cold, and startling coming from Solomon, but Thaddeus found that he couldn’t disagree with him.
♦ ♦ ♦
They came across Jamshir’s body on one of the upper floors, still warm, the blood sluggishly flowing around the dagger in his throat.
“Jocasta,” Solomon said, squatting down and touching the hilt. “This is hers.”
He reached out and grabbed the knife.
“What are you doing?” Thaddeus asked.
“She might need it,” he replied and pulled it free.
Disturbed by the motion, Jamshir’s body slid sideways to slump onto the floor. Solomon reached out and closed his eyes.
“He wasn’t always like this, you know.” His eyes were sad. “At one time, he had the promise to be great.”
“Florian spoke highly of him for a long time,” Thaddeus said. “After that, he simply never spoke of him at all.”
“Great. Well, he’s dead now,” Melanie said. “Can we go? If he’s still warm, the others must be just ahead.”
Solomon stood, closed his eye and stood over Jamshir’s body for a few seconds before moving away.
“Two floors up from here,” Thaddeus said. “That’s where Malachi’s office is. We should find him there, hopefully.”
They made their way up the stairs, coming out on the top floor.
In front of them stood Darius, Willow and Jocasta, all staring at the ornate wooden door at the other end of the hall.
A door that was swinging open.
“Come in,” came Malachi’s voice. “I insist.”
Chapter 82
Jocasta glanced over her shoulder at the slight noise she’d heard. The others were coming out of the stairwell. Solomon nodded to her once, then his attention was on the open doorway at the end of the hall.
He started to move forward, but Thaddeus grabbed his arm and leaned in close, whispering something in his ear. Solomon grimaced, but nodded and stepped to the side allowing the other two to pass.
“You go on.” Thaddeus whispered to Darius so quietly that Jocasta could barely hear him. “I don’t think he knows we’re here. Get him distracted, then I’ll roast him and Mel can try to scramble his brains.”
Darius nodded, not answering out loud, then turned toward the door.
“Malachi,” he called, his voice sounding fake to Jocasta’s ears. “I brought you a surprise. Two, actually.”
Malachi didn’t answer. The door gaped open, revealing a well-lit room beyond.
“All right,” Darius said. “Let’s go, you two.”
Before they moved, Solomon wordlessly handed Jocasta her second dagger. The one she left in Jamshir’s throat took it with a nod and stuck it in her belt.
She stepped forward to join Willow and they took the lead, Darius
