Narrative Nocturnes

Julian laughed and swiped the waving book out of her hand, lifting a brow when he saw the title.  "Dante's inferno? The story we’re not supposed to read? Put that away before Acantha catches you! Anyway, I found something more interesting in her tent while she wasn’t looking. It’s in some weird writing, though, so I brought it to you.” Meri sat up and looked at him, her brown eyes sparkling, and held out both hands. “Let me see! Did anybody see you go in there? And what's wrong with the writing? Can't you read her script?" She narrowed her eyes.  “Also, why are you lecturing me about Dante’s Inferno when you brought me something you stole? Talk about the pot calling the kettle black….” Julian grinned and shrugged. “You know nobody saw me.  And I can read it, but all these curlicues hurt my eyes.  You’ll like it; it’s some kind of murder mystery.  I saw something in there about death and blood, but I didn’t have time to look every long because I was ...

Candles flickered at the edges of Meri’s vision as someone carried her through the doorway and into the parlor.  Half-conscious and cradled against a broad chest, his cool touch was closer than death. Silk brushed against her cheek as pain wracked her body.  Her long dress torn, her hands sticky and wet with blood, she reached out, searching.  A ruby droplet slid from a slender finger, quivering on her skin for a moment before falling away to the depths of the dark carpet.  "Julian...." "We're still looking for Julian," said Antonio's familiar voice. "Can you tell us what happened? Who attacked you?" His voice seemed far away, and Meri opened her eyes.  She struggled to answer the question, but only remembered the sounds -- screaming -- wild, inhuman screaming from creatures who shouldn't have existed at all. "It had...four arms," she whispered. "The one that got away...we were fighting them off. We were so fast! It ...

Only Old Joe was near, curled up in his sleeping bag and smelling like southern comfort. The empty bottle lay beside him. Meri tucked an extra blanket around him to stave off the cavern's chill, and went to find her own little space. Settling atop her sleeping bag, she pulled the ancient wooden box from her satchel to inspect it -- a strange thing with letters in a language she didn't know. It glowed redly from inside, and as she ran slender fingers along the edges, she searched for some kind of opening. No visible line hinted at a lid or even a hinge, but the thing had to open somehow. The red glow pulsed, and a shiver ran down her spine. She had to know what was in there! Had she stopped for a moment to consider, she might have realized her wild curiosity was unnatural even for her. Where was Old Joe's sledgehammer? Just as she was about to go look for it, her thumbs slid over the right spots and part of the box lifted. Inside, nestled in a soft red cushion, a bri...