“Bloody hell…” Freyja paused in the doorway, blocking it for a moment. “What happened to you?”
Wynter shoved the solid form of her friend aside and peered into the gloom of the Captain’s office. Captain Quinn Ameiko sat at her desk, bruised, battered and clearly aching as she rose unsteadily to her feet.
“Do you wish healing?” Wynter asked, her accent deepening in her concern.
“Hells yes.” Ameiko nodded gratefully. “I am glad you are all here. Things were picking up after you dealt with the goblins…I thought it was going to be quiet for a while.”
The deaths of two con men and a prostitute were outlined briefly as bruises faded to yellow.
Eli folded his arms. “What happened to you?”
“I informed the father of the death of his daughter. He has a temper.”
“Where is he now?” Wynter asked.
“In the cells. Cooling off.”
“We will head to the lumber mill then.” Wynter nodded.
“Well that was disgusting.” Wynter wiped her hands on a cloth and tossed it aside. She glanced down the riverbank at the form of Bryn scanning the rough sand and then up at Jarod upriver. When the heads shook in the negative, she frowned.
“We should talk to the partner of the guy in there. Ameiko has him locked up.” Eli grimaced as he tried to move aside the tattered remnants of cloth on the chest of the mutilated corpse hooked on the wall. He stilled.
“Hey. Check this out.”
Wynter walked back to the body. She went pale. “Damn. Another one.”
“This wouldn’t be the half demon bitch , would it?”
“When did she escape?”
“After the first two were killed.”
“Then I doubt it.”
“Well, hell.” Eli wiped his hand on his trousers.
“Do you smell that?” Wynter sniffed again.
“Yeah…I’m not taking in more of a breath than I have to.”
“Man up. Seriously. Take a breath.”
Eli huffed a breath as Bryn and Jarod re-entered.
“What’s going on?” Bryn asked, peering in the relative gloom.
“The witch thinks she smells something funky.”
“Aside from blood and guts?” Bryn lifted a russet brow.
“Just tell me what you smell,” Wynter growled in frustration.
No one spoke as deep breaths were taken.
“What the hell is that smell?” Jarod rubbed his nostrils, the stench cloying.
“Rotting meat,” Bryn confirmed.
Wynter stared at the two fresh kills. “These two shouldn’t smell that bad. Not yet.”
“We need to talk to the partner…now.” Eli reaffirmed.