The Stars Askew Read Free

response, he finished her sentence. “Enjoying themselves too much.”
    Kata placed her ear against the wooden door and heard what sounded like a single knock, followed by a groaning sound. Images sprang to Kata’s mind of Aceline writhing with whomever she had met that day, her pretty face distended into a leer, groans escaping from her lips. But the sound also brought thoughts of violence to her mind.
    Kata turned the handle, but the door held fast. “Aceline—it’s Kata!” She knocked insistently. Anxiety gripped her. She turned to Rikard, who shook his head. They threw their weight against the door, but it didn’t budge.
    Kata said, “Wait. I’ll get Dexion.”
    Dexion had dried himself and was half dressed when she found him. He rapidly threw on his remaining clothes and followed her.
    Kata pressed her ear against the door again. There was a slight thudding clunk—perhaps someone banging against a table—then all was quiet.
    She stood back and nodded at the minotaur. He placed his immense hands against the doorway, which groaned briefly. There was a crack; shards of wood burst into the air; and the door broke open.
    One quick look into the room and Dexion stepped back, his nostrils flaring.
    A few feet in front of the door, the body of a short heavy man was sprawled facedown, the smell of burning flesh drifting from it. A second man lay on his back in the middle of the room, the skin of his face seemingly melted, white froth around where his mouth had once been. His arms lay above his head as if he were stretching. Both wore black suits, the traditional uniforms of the thaumaturgists.
    In the corner, Kata caught a glimpse of Aceline’s black hair, her skin whiter than ever.
    Kata raised her fingers to her lips. “Oh no,” she said. “Oh no.”
    Grief gripped her heart like a ghostly hand, for Aceline’s eyes were rolled back in her head. Death had taken her into the land of light.
    *   *   *
    Kata had cried only once in the last fifteen years. She did not cry now, though grief seemed to press her from her insides, threatening to erupt at any moment.
    Rikard turned and whistled. A moment later a grubby little urchin was at his side. “Ejan. Immediately.” The guttersnipe took a brief look into the room, his mouth as wide as his eyes. Rikard grabbed him by his torn jacket. “Keep that trap shut.”
    The urchin nodded—mouth still agape—and sped off through the mist. A couple, arms thrown around each other, staggered toward them along the steamy corridor.
    â€œCome on.” Rikard stepped lightly into the room. “Close the door.”
    Dexion forced the damaged door back into its frame, jamming it when it wouldn’t fit.
    Kata surveyed the scene. The door’s latch lay shattered on the ground. On the left side of the room, a large bath was cut into the stone floor. On the right side, three massage tables were lined up against the wall. The three bodies lay in between: the two men closest to them, and Aceline up against the far wall, near the edge of the bath.
    Kata stepped gently across the room to Aceline’s body. She avoided looking at the dead woman’s empty staring eyes. She needed to focus, to reconstruct events.
    â€œLook.” Rikard knelt beside the shorter man. He pointed to the ground near him. “There’s some kind of burned black powder on the floor.”
    â€œHere too.” Dexion pointed to a place nearer the center of the room, close to the thinner thaumaturgist. “His face has been completely melted.” Dexion’s nostrils flared again with distaste.
    Kata knelt beside her former friend and noticed several tiny black specks on the skin between her nostrils and mouth. A thin deep red mark encircled Aceline’s neck, bleeding slightly in places. “Aceline was strangled.” There were no cuts on her hands, though. It was almost as if she’d