A Strange Affair - Prologue

It was a dark evening in early October; the sun had set hours before, leaving a pale half-moon in its place, and the customary biting cold was beginning to descend on the quiet streets of Tinton. In one of the dilapidated old houses that lined the cobbled streets of this secluded village, there was a room full of people; cloaked, hooded figures whose features swam in and out of focus in the faint light from the fire. The flames were contained within an elaborately decorated fireplace. At first glance it might have been mahogany but, when victim to closer inspection, appeared to be made of a curious wood slightly darker and more dense, with thick veins of deep crimson running through it.1

It was in this room, with its intricate detail and its refined décor – so different from its ramshackle exterior – that a man was soon to die. The cloaked figures would make sure of that. That was their purpose – to deny it would be considered the height of bad manners.2

They stood in a circle facing the centre of the room, an expectant silence enveloping the shadowy group. They seemed to be waiting for someone, yet there were no timepieces in the room to indicate that a member of the sombre congregation might be late.3

One of the party, an unknown face amongst a sea of nameless forms, spoke in the half-light.4

"Tardiness must not be tolerated," it said, its voice, though barely a whisper, spilled across the high-ceilinged room as though it were silk.5

"No," said another, the same authoritative tone skimming the smooth walls and bouncing off the curtained windows. "Tardiness is at the root of lethargy."6

"And it is this which we cannot afford," intoned the first, its voice barely distinguishable from the second. Silence once again fell upon the figures as they waited.7

After several minutes of razor-sharp silence a small cloud of dust appeared in the middle of the room. Soon the cloud had swelled to the size of a man, then two men, then -8

"You are late, Na'ric," said one of the silhouettes, speaking for the first time. Its voice was higher and colder than its predecessors had been and it was distinctly more feminine. One of the men who had appeared in the middle of the room pushed back the hood of his thick travelling cloak and nodded stoically in the direction of the voice. His face was pale and drawn and his features were indistinct in the dim light.9

"I apologise – it could not be helped. Mr Higgins was quite uncooperative." The man at his feet let out a whining moan, which was put to an immediate halt by a sharp kick to the stomach. One of the assembly stepped forward, their footsteps echoing in the fresh silence that followed the newcomer's words. Now that were standing directly before the firelight it was easy to see that this was a woman. Her long black hair tumbled over her shoulders in loose curls and her ice-blue eyes glinted with barely concealed malice.10

"Nonetheless, rules are rules…" she said with unnecessary vigour, reaching behind her head to pull up her hood. There was a quiet rustling of material as the circle of people followed suit. The man named Na'ric nodded solemnly.11

"I understand." He straightened slightly and let his travelling cloak fall to the floor, which it hit with a soft clunk. He then closed his eyes and waited patiently for what was to come. The woman who had addressed Na'ric stepped back, merging once again with the faceless crowd.12

Something went 'click' in the darkened room.13

There was a sudden burst of blinding light, which caused the circle of figures to recoil slightly, then there was nothing. Na'ric was no longer standing in the centre of the room. Where the man had been, there was now a small pile of smoking ashes and a travelling cloak.14

There was an uneasy silence following the incident, punctured only by the occasional muted swish of fabric as hoods were reluctantly lowered. Then a shaky voice spoke through the gloom.15

"Who are you people?" Mr Higgins had stood up and was now pointing an accusatory, if shaky, finger in the direction of the general mass. "You just… you…" Words failed the young man as another creature stepped leisurely towards him, lowering his hood as he went. This one was clearly male. His eyes were the same blue as his associate and he had a pale face and sharp features.16

And when he smiled, Mr Higgins trembled. Because those teeth were sharp too, and they glinted menacingly in the flickering light.17

"We, Mr Higgins," he said, his smile widening as he spoke, "are the law's most elusive clients…"18

Nobody heard his scream.