The Husband Poisoning Society, Chapter 11

The bat-thing folded its wings and drew out a pair of daggers from sheaths of its belt. 

“At last,” Fiona said, shaking glass shards from the backs of her hands, “Something tangible. Something real.”

I looked at Fiona. She wore her favorite royal blue evening gown. The dress was sleeveless with a plunging neckline that touched her bellybutton. She wore a cream sash bound with a silver cylindrical clasp. She wasn’t dressed for battle. As I watched, Fiona reached down and clicked a hidden button on the clasp. She drew the concealed dagger from the cylinder. Her sash drifted to the ground like settling fog. I grimaced and did the same with my clasp, identical to her own save for being gold. I wasn’t much of a fighter, but I knew how I could help.

“Lover. Fiona. Here, catch.” I threw my dagger. 

Fiona caught the dagger in her left hand without looking. She stepped to place herself between her two fiancées and the assassin. Vincent threw an end table into the bat-thing’s face, staggering it. And then he stepped to join Fiona between us and it. Vincent looked back at me and gestured with his hand.

“Ren. Cane.”

I nodded and tossed my cane to him. The cane is carved from wyvern ivory and is adamant sturdy. Vincent was a virtuoso with improvised weapons. In effect he was never unarmed. Fiona, was a master of her chosen weapons, which were many. I’d never seen her lose a fight. Still, they were under equipped and unarmored. And that was an immortal. Immortals combined traits of werewolves and vampires from European folklore. Werewolves were young immortals. That this immortal could shift into something bat-like meant that it was older. And that meant it had a wider array of powers than a fledgling. That meant it was dangerous. 

The creature recovered from Vincent’s thrown table. It lunged at Vincent, arms wide and claws barred. Vincent thrust forward, using my cane like a rapier. He rammed the point of the cane into the immortal’s wide and monstrous nose. The thing’s head snapped back and the immortal stumbled. Fiona lunged in and stabbed with both daggers into the exposed left leg of the immortal. The beast staggered and dropped to one knee. 

I noted that Vincent and Fiona didn’t have to say a word to coordinate their assault. They just knew each other. They had been lovers before Fiona met Amy and myself. And they were still close. 

Vincent spun the cane and used the peacock shaped crook to hook the right leg of the immortal. He ripped the leg out from under it. The immortal landed on its tail bone and shrieked in pain and alarm. Fiona lunged in a second time and slashed at the immortal’s left tricep. A wound opened that sizzled and hissed from the silver on her blade. 

The immortal glared at Fiona, and its eye flashed a glowing crimson. Fiona shook her head. 

“I have trained well. Your hypnosis is useless against me.”

The assassin snarled and scrambled back. Fiona threw her dagger, burying the blade in the immortal’s throat. The thing gurgled and clawed at the hissing and bubbling wound. 

The thing sneered, and then turned to look at me. We stared into each other’s eyes and then its eyes flashed red again. I felt dizzy and abruptly the thing began to look utterly trustworthy.

“Oh no you don’t.” Vincent said and flung my cane, crook first in the immortal’s face, knocking its head backward. 

I shook my head and the dizziness passed. Fiona leaped at the assassin and slammed a double leg drop kick into its chest, forcing the air from its lungs. Contrary to folklore, immortals still breathed. They were not undead. Fiona landed on her side and rolled immediately back to her feet. Before Vincent could act, she stepped in and jammed my dagger deep into the thing’s eye. Blood squirted around the wound and the immortal flailed. The flailing weakened and, as Fiona released the dagger, its limbs went slack. 

I waited, but it didn’t move.

“It’s dead, right?” Amy asked. 

“Indeed. Even immortals do not do well if you jam a blade in their brain.” Fiona answered. 

“What does this mean?” Amy asked. “Why are they targeting us? Because we’re investigating?”

“We’d better assume yes.” I said. 

“It could be the murderer. Yes.” Fiona said.

Fiona knelt and retrieved the daggers and my cane. She passed me back my dagger and my cane. Then she returned to examining the body.

“These daggers are poisoned.” Fiona announced.

“Giant scorpion venom?” Amy asked. 

“Arsenic.” Fiona answered.

“So, not the murderer.” I said. 

“Nothing says that they have to use the same poison.” Vincent said. 

“Why switch though?” Amy asked. “Let me look at the dagger dearest. I can see more that may be helpful.”

Amy performed a reading on the dagger. Again her nose began to bleed as she pushed against alchemical wards. She finished her reading and retrieved a handkerchief.

“The dagger itself was warded. Which makes sense for an assassin doesn’t it? I didn’t get much. But the duke’s killer did not handle the blade. I’m sure of it.”

“Is there anything on this beast that isn’t warded?” I asked.

“I’ll check. It will take some time. Is everyone okay with that?” Amy asked. 

We all nodded. And Amy set to work. It took more than an hour for Amy to search the assassin’s belongings. And time and time again the answer was that the item was warded. I couldn’t imagine the expense to ward so much equipment. Finally as Amy was about to give up, she developed the smile of a smug kitten.

I was about to ask what she had found, when she plucked the stud earring from the enormous bat ear and closed her eyes. A few minutes later, with no bloody noses, she opened her eyes.

“Oh dear.” She said. “Duke Xander sent this assassin. They want to pin the blame on Ren. They are afraid her visions will expose the real killer.”

“They know who killed the duke?”

Amy shook her head. “They fear that it is a Hyperborean. But they don’t know. They are afraid that us solving things will bring Hyperborea into disgrace. They are trying to bury things, and frame Ren for the crime.”

“Why Ren?” Vincent asked.

“The She-Wolf of Ys?” Amy said. “The woman who exposed their last attempted invasion? The woman they blame for the death of their crown prince?”

“Wulfric wasn’t my fault.”

“It was your silver potion dear.” Amy said. 

A knock sounded at the door. Lynn’s voice came from the other side. “Is everything alright?”

“Hide the body.” I said.

Vincent looked around, “Where?”